Injury Won't Stop Me

Last week I injured my foot pretty bad. I had one friend who was a former paramedic tell me it was probably broken, reiterated by my brother-in-law who is an orthopedic assistant. So you can imagine my relief when I went to the doctor and was told it was only a really bad sprain. Still not great, especially since I have to wear a big orthopedic boot, but it beats having a broken foot and wearing a cast.

So since I haven't been able to work out at the gym (which I joined a little over a week ago), I've been feeling really lethargic, not motivated to do anything but go to church. I realized it must be because I’m not working out like I was before. Even before I joined the gym, I speed walked around my neighborhood at least three times a week. So I realized that if I was going to get motivated to do anything, I would have to find a way to exercise with the orthopedic boot on my foot.

I remembered that after my fibroid surgery, I could do little walking, going up and down the steps without pain, etc. I had begun doing simple leg lifts from my bed, similar to ones I did with weights when I worked out at Curves once. Amazingly, the simple exercises made me feel better and more energetic. So I’ve begun doing the same exercises while waiting for my foot to heal.

Of course these exercises don’t give me the lift that working out at the gym does, but they do give me some energy to get up and move. I was in decent shape when I joined the gym, but nothing like I wanted to be. And since I could be in this boot for up to a month, I am determined not to gain weight or lose the little bit of strength I gained when I exercised on a regular basis.

This injury has also taught me not to waste time. Before I hurt my foot, I wanted to take a Zumba class, but because of my need to be perfect at everything, I didn’t take the class out of fear I might not be as good as all the others in the class. This is crazy because I kicked butt in every dance class I took at VCU. I mean the fact I wasn’t afraid to take a Krav Maga class after surgery, but too scared to take a Zumba class perfectly healthy is CRAZY. If I were to have permanent damage to my foot and never had taken the class, I'd be really upset with myself.

So, hopefully, once my foot heals, I will stop being a scaredy cat and take the Zumba class. But one thing is for sure, I will keep moving no matter what. I wasted enough time in my 20s and 30s when I was stronger, and now that I don’t have youth on my side, I am determined to feel and be strong regardless of surgery, injury or anything else that comes along. Because I don’t want to just be strong now, I want to be strong at 40, 50,60 and even 70. I read an article in the The Washington Post Magazine about a 72 year old female weight lifter. I know it can be done.

After all the pain and loss I’ve dealt with in my life, I am just ready to be not only be strong, not just happy, I want to be fabulous. Like Paul said in Philippians 3:14, "I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me." What's the prize I'm striving for? Feeling victory instead of fear and regret. I've had enough of that. Now I'm ready to kick fear and regret's butt. And look and feel fabulous doing it.

Giving Up My Macy's Card

Recently I had trouble deciding whether or not I should cancel my Macy's card account. Much of the reason I didn't want to cancel was sentimental, but it was also the usual - not wanting to give up a card that I can use when I'm too broke to buy something with cash.

I've had my Macy's card for 20 years, and it's hard to give up something you've had that long, especially when it's been there for you time and time again. For instance:

• When I needed a dress and shoes for my 10th year high school reunion, my Macy's card was there;
• When I needed an Easter dress that I couldn't afford to pay with cash, my Macy's card was there;
• When I had no money for a suit to wear to important interviews, Macy's was there; and
• When I needed Timberland boots for Snowmageddon 2010, my Macy's card was there.

So, after realizing that canceling my card would be good practice in letting things go, because I hang on to everything (I have books on my bookshelf that I bought 10 years ago and have never read), I decided I would let my treasured Macy's card go.

But then something great happened! At brunch one weekend, a good friend of mine informed me that it is actually better to keep a credit card account open if I am trying to build up my credit. That it actually looks better on my credit report if I'm making my payments on time, which I am. I remembered that I had heard a credit professional say the exact same thing in a credit seminar I had attended some years ago, so I decided to keep the card. And all was well in my world.

Thing is, I know that credit cards are pretty much the work of satan - at least their outrageous percentages on purchases are - but I still can't help but to be happy that I still have my Macy's card. Now I can buy myself a treat every now and then. I mean, who doesn't deserve a good lip gloss now and then? Or a citrus-y perfume to give you a little lift, or a concealer with salicylic acid that covers up an enormous pimple that lands on your face a day before a big date?

This is why my Macy's card is necessary. For life's little emergencies and those days when I need a little pick-me-up. Because it's either shopping with my Macy's card or downing a pint of Häagen-Dazs on those days. And since shopping doesn't add 5 pounds to my thighs, I'm going to say using my Macy's card is the best option.

Besides, a little retail therapy never hurt anyone. At least not me. At least not in the last decade. I'll see how this next one goes. But I'm confident my Macy's card won't let me down.

Common Sense Isn't So Common

Common sense must be dead. Or maybe, as the familiar saying goes, common sense ain't that common. That must be true because there is a rise in people doing ridiculously stupid things that they should know will get them in trouble. I read two articles last week that are examples of people doing ridiculous things that got them into trouble. Both relate to people being excessively uninhibited in public. Of course, I'm talking about Rep. Anthony Weiner of New York. But sadly, he's not the only idiot in our midst.

Before I begin on Weiner, I feel the need to tell about a faux pas one couple committed in a graveyard. Yeah, you read correctly. A graveyard. The couple was having sex when the woman got injured after a headstone fell on her leg (http://weirdnews.aol.com/2011/06/03/new-jersey-tombstone-woman-injured_n_870890.html).

My first thought when I read the headline was how stupid can you be? Apparently pretty damn stupid. And creepy. Someone please explain to me what is exciting about having sex around a bunch of dead people? Are people that starved for excitement in their sex lives? Not only is it creepy, but incredibly disrespectful. I would be highly upset if I found out someone was having sex by my grandmother's grave. So not only is common sense dead, but common courtesy seems to be also. I won't say that the woman deserved what she got, but she certainly brought it on herself.

So back to Weiner. The latest is he now wants to go get "treatment" for his problem. What problem is that? Stupidity? There ain't no treatment for that bub. What he needs to do is to take on the strategy he did when he ran for the office he now refuses to give up. He obviously was intelligent and clever enough to get himself elected; now he needs to use that bit of intelligence to keep from getting booted out of the House of Representatives.

It is quite possible, however that Weiner is working a strategy. All political scandals eventually blow over, and this one will be no exception. Perhaps Weiner believes that he will be able to get back the respect of the American people once the smoke settles. And that is possible, because anything is possible in politics. DC Ward 8 Councilman Marion Barry is proof of that. In 1990, Barry was involved in a drug scandal and was arrested by the FBI for cocaine possession and caught on tape using drugs (www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/local/longterm/tours/scandal/barry.htm). Barry suffered a short setback, but he bounced back just two short years later winning a seat on city council in 1992 and then as the city's mayor once again in 1994 (http://www.dccouncil.us/Marion_Barry_Bio).

So maybe Weiner is smart to refuse to resign. Maybe he knows something we don't - that America is so obsessed with scandal that we will forget about his gaffe as soon as another one pops up. And he's probably right. Kind of makes America look more stupid than him. Both sad and scary.

The truth is, America does have an obsession with scandal. Proof of that is the fact that Weiner’s gaffe made national news, when there was nothing newsworthy or political about what he did. He didn't make a politcal faux pas, he made a personal faux pas. It was a masssively idiotic thing to do, but I don’t think he should have to resign because of it. He should apologize to his wife, go get some marriage counseling and start acting like a mature, married man – not a college kid who gets off on sending immature pictures to would-be admirers. But I don't think he should resign.

I’m not saying I admire the guy, I’m saying that Democrats need to ask themselves, do they want him to resign because he’s an embarrassment or because he’s a bad legislator? If the answer is the former, that’s a stupid reason to send him packing. All men who fool around, be it physically or via a computer do stupid things. He just got caught. So do we want him to resign because he got caught? I hope not. Because no one should have to give up a career because a scandal obsessed society cares more about who's screwing who, rather than who's helping who.

America should care more about what Weiner has done for the 9^th district of the state of New York. Not who Weiner showed a photo of his clothed crotch to. In my opinion, it is just as ridiculous to make him leave office as it was for him to do what he did. If he's made a difference in his district, and to his constituents, he will keep making a difference. This mistake does not change that. Bill Clinton was a good president regardless of his indescretion, and I believe Anthony Weiner could be too-even after this scandal. Just as long as in the future, he keeps it in his pants - (pun intended) or in this case, off the Internet.

Nieces are a Joy

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately with my nine year-old niece Christen, who is a real joy. She has my father's confident, larger than life personality, with a whole lot of diva mixed in. She's like a mini Raven Symone, in that one minute she's primping her hair, and the next minute she’s saying things like her sugar meter is low and she needs some candy. The best part about her is that she is completely confident in who she is. She knows she's a little over the top, but she doesn't apologize for it. She is completely comfortable in her own skin. If only I had had her confidence at nine years old, who knows how different life could have been for me.

What I also love about Christen is her desire to learn. She actually looks forward to going to school each day and gets very excited when the National Geographic Kids magazine comes in the mail. One morning I woke up and went downstairs to get some breakfast, and she was sitting at the dining table across from my mother, reading the newspaper, just like my mother. Generally when my sister drops Christen off for my mother to walk her to school, Christen watches TV in the family room. On this particular day however, she was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper, like an adult. Who would have ever thought that that the silly little two-year old who bounced around wearing her cousin's football helmet would have grown up to be a an academic AND a little diva?

Another treasured Christen moment is when I took her to a local arts festival last Fall. She took part in every art activity that we passed including painting a pumpkin and helping to paint a mural outside an elementary school. After the festival, while waiting at the subway for her mother to pick us up, Christen asked me if she could use my mirror to see how her hair looked. I busted out in laughter and asked her why, because it was dark outside and there were no boys her age around. She simply replied that she wanted to make sure she looked okay. I realized that it had nothing to do with impressing anyone. She just wanted to make sure she looked good for herself. Go figure.

Like all my nieces and nephews (I have over 10), Christen’s humor, honesty and zest for life have been a blessing and I just look forward to even more days that I spend with her. Because in today’s society of deadly tsunamis and tornados, terrorists and nuclear spills, I need all the silly, quirky, fun moments I can get so that I don’t go coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs.

Life After Surgery

Getting ready for church Sunday I tried on three different pairs of pants because surprisingly, pants I couldn’t get into comfortably four weeks ago are now slouching on me. I wanna give myself a high five I’m so happy! It really feels good to see that hard work does pay off! I’ve been eating better and doing a lot of exercising and I'm happy to say that I don’t just look better, I feel better, and stronger!

The best thing about my recuperation has been being able to exercise regularly without pain, and without having to take a three hour nap after 30 measly minutes of exercise. That was life before the surgery. I’m still unable to pick up my two year-old nephew without having pain that requires taking two Advil. He’s only two years old, but about 40 pounds, and guess lifting heavy things is the only regular thing I’m not able to do yet. But, it’s only been two months since the surgery and the doctors said it may take up to six months for the fibroids to completely shrink. So that means not lifting anything heavy for now, including my adorable nephew, for another four more months.

Before what I like to call “fibroid hell” began, I always took my health, stamina, and quite frankly, my uterus for granted. Had I known this was going to happen, I would have tried harder to find a husband and have some little rascals of my own! But I've made peace with the fact that I may not ever have children. I've always been open to adoption, and as a person of faith, I believe that if it's in God's plan for me to have children, I'll have them. And if it's not in the plan, I'll still have more than 10 beautiful nieces and nephews that bring me a lot of joy.

Having the surgery, being close to turning 40, and especially losing my father last year has reminded me that I really can't take life for granted, and to make the best of every moment. In our crazy busy, always on-the-move lives, we too often forget that we don't have forever to make an impact in this world, and I want to make my mark. I intend to make the best of my time while I'm here, and I'm starting today.

Krav Maga Self-Defense Rocks! If I Can Do It, So Can You!

This past Saturday I took a Krav Maga self-defense workshop after seeing an ad in The Washington Citypaper for a free workshop. If you aren’t familiar with the technique, the KravMagaDC.com website describes it as “the self-defense and fighting system of the Israeli Defense Forces ... based on instinctive movements that are quickly learned and easily remembered." If you've ever watched NCIS and seen Cote de Pablo's character Ziva David kick ass, you have a good idea of what the technique is like.

It's been over 10 years since I took a self defense class, so I was nervous going in, but my nerves subsided a little when I got to the studio and saw that there were more women waiting to take the class than there was men, many of which looked as nervous as I felt. The workshop consisted of about six drills, that I did with my partner Bob.

The first drill was relatively easy, so I was feeling pretty confident, but then came a drill that required Bob and I practice punches with a large pad called a tombstone, which we held at our chests while the other punched as hard as they could. The impact of Bob's punches at first knocked me off balance. But once an instructor showed me how to hold the tombstone to gain better control, the impact of the punches weren't so bad. I got through the rest of the drills without having to use my asthma inhaler and I realized that I had a lot more endurance than I thought.

Along with my newfound confidence I learned two really important things. The first was how to hold my head while blocking punches. I was told to keep my head down, not up, in order to avoid getting my eyes or nose hit. The second thing was how to grab someone’s shoulders when trying to hit them in the groin. I instinctively wanted to put one hand on each of my partners shoulders, but learned that it's better to put two hands on an attacker's shoulder, then kick.

What I liked most was that the things I learned actually made sense and didn't feel unnatural, unlike some of the dance moves I learned in my dance classes in college. I also liked that the instructors would come over and tell me what I was doing well, in addition to telling me what I needed to improve on.

I came out of the class feeling empowered, like I could do anything! While that was probably the endorphins kicking in, I still signed up for two more classes, the first of which I will take this Thursday. I'm still nervous about if this is something I can do well, but the only way to know is to do it, so I'm just going to give it my best shot.

I'm reminded of how a good friend who I was just getting to know at the time once told a fellow church member who wanted someone to do AIDS prevention outreach to "get April to do it. She's not afraid of anything." I remember looking at her wanting to say "Are you smoking crack? I'm afraid of EVERYTHING. I just do it anyway."

So that's what I'm doing with this Krav Maga thing. I'm scared that I might fail at it, but I'm going to do it anyway. If I fall down, I fall down. And then I'll just get back up, and in the words of Tupac Shakur I'll "stand tall and come back for more."

Nothing Like Häagen-Dazs and a Paid Gig

Just when I was about to get REALLY down about being broke and not being able to pay all my bills this month, I get a call from a family friend who told me that he needs his resume revised and that he's got co-workers who will also need their resumes edited that he will refer to me. All I can say is PRAISE THE LORD!

I've been keeping busy lately by writing proposals for contracting work with a colleague, and we actually just got a pro bono gig for a 10th anniversary 9/11 campaign, but there's nothing like having paid work to keep your spirits up.

So I think I'm going to celebrate tomorrow by going and getting some Häagen-Dazs Swiss Vanilla Almond ice cream. I don't eat it often because while it's pure heaven, it's also pure fat. And just so the pure heaven fat doesn't seep down into my thighs, I'm gonna take a nice long walk afterwards.

Normally I'd complain about having to take time to work off calories, but not so much now. It was only just a month and a half ago that I couldn't even walk 3 blocks without feeling pain. So, not only will I be thankful for my upcoming freelance work, and the yummy ice cream I'll eat to reward myself, I'm going to be pretty happy that I have the ability to walk a mile or more without enduring unending pain. Who would have thought ice cream could provide such clarity? Looks like Häagen-Dazs isn't so bad for me after all! Who would've known?

Healing from Loss

When someone you love dies, the sadness consumes you. Nothing can prepare you for the pain and for a while, nothing can comfort you. Fortunately, the pain does eventually stop paralyzing you and life begins again. Monday marks a year since my father died, and I can honestly say that I'm doing much better than a year ago. However I woke up this morning at 6:33 am, about two hours earlier than I usually do on a Saturday, and all I could do is think about my father and how I miss him.

Losing my father, felt like I had just entered the Twilight Zone. Because someone I had loved for over 35 years, who took care of me and protected me my entire life, was gone, and wasn't coming back. I did a lot of sleeping after he passed, because when I slept, I didn't feel any pain. Sometimes I still feel like I'm living in an alternate reality. Like he's stuck somewhere between the planets and I'm stuck here, without him.

The first three months were the worst. I didn't want to talk to anyone, and I didn't want anyone to talk to me. I was consumed by pain, and then anger. I was angry that people expected me to go on with life as usual. And while I knew it was meant to comfort me, I would get more angry when people told me "it's okay, he's with God." While I believed that he was with God, things certainly were not okay. My father was gone, and I was in so much pain, sometimes I felt like I was dying. Eventually though, I realized that I did have to move on with my life. It’s easier said than done, but fortunately for me, God stepped in and pulled me out of my sadness.

After having a meltdown at work a month prior, I was riding the subway to work one day, reading the Sophie Kinsella book "Remember Me?" It had been my only escape from the pain but I had never really laughed while reading it until that day. I was on the part of the book where the main character is finally comfortable enough to have sex with the husband she doesn't remember. Until he asks her a very awkward, robotic question. The scene was so hysterical that I literally belted laughter out loud, and couldn't stop laughing. If I had been drinking something, I would have spit out the drink and possibly had some come through my nose. For the first time in months, I actually felt joy.

It was at that moment of joy that I heard God's voice. I heard him say "this is the April I know and love. Funny and full of life. This is the way you have to be again." I remember feeling emotional, but still happy, realizing that my father would speak the same words to me if he were here. It was then that I knew I had to let the pain go, stop mourning his life, and start living mine again.

Now when I feel like crying, sometimes I do, but sometimes instead, I reminisce about how fun he was to be around. He had a ton of crazy expressions that always made me laugh. For instance, he would refer to people as "jokers" and call money "duckets" instead of cash, like normal people. Or he would say that he'd "be back in a few shakes" when he would go out. I sometimes find myself using these same phrases and laugh out loud, and it turns my sadness to joy. Joy knowing that I was blessed to have a father with such an animated and entertaining spirit.

So while this upcoming Monday marks a year since he’s been gone, I choose to celebrate his life, rather than mourn it. I know my father would want for me to be happy and go on with my life. And while my life sometimes feels very empty without him, it’s the only life I have, and I’ve got to keep pushing on. As an adult, I’ve come to learn that those things in life that are the hardest for us to do, usually are the things we need to do most. They are painful, and sometimes take all the strength we have, but they are the decisions that make life easier in the long run. They help us to move on to live the life we are meant to live. It’s not easy, but God never said this life would be easy; he did however say that he would never leave us; and that’s something I can definitely live with.