​I am choosing a different way.
 
Choosing to change before I collapse.
 
This is the time for courage, for drastic life changes, in service of breaking a pattern that has had me in it’s clutches. No more.
 
My belief and story that I must constantly do, accomplish, and perform to make my mark. To help. To have influence. To be of service. To feel I have value and worth.
 
I am painfully aware that just being feels like failure.
 
This insidious pattern has reared its head again. And I am choosing to do things differently. I refuse to collapse again.
 
Instead, I’m going to move to Hawaii. Yup, seriously, moving to Hawaii.
 
Let me be clear, this is not a “geographical intervention.” I mean, it is, but it’s not. I am moving. And it is a very intentional reasons, with eyes wide open.
 
Stress is the worst. It wears me down, my body screams at me to stop, and often it is too late before I hear my body’s pleas. So, it’s time to try something new. I am saying, not just saying but shouting out loud to the heavens: I choose my health.
 
I choose a life worthy of being present to, of remembering, of not missing. I am not dropping out, I am dropping in. I am showing up to be rather than do.
 
And I am giving the system of my body a break. It’s been working hard, but I’ve crossed a line of business that cannot continue. So it’s time to slow down, and soak up the potentially uncomfortable slowness, and space, to bring my pacing back to a healthy place.
 
This time it’s not because I’m sick and have to, but because I choose to preventatively.
 
What in your life feels like is asking to happen to support your health that you have not been willing to change? How do you move from talking about doing it, to having the bravery to step into the fire of change? 

I look at my iCal calendar on my computer, all organized in bright vibrant color-coded blocks of time from 5:30a to 10p each day, to-dos at the top of each day at least 10 long and I choke on my inhale. Slow down. Breathe. Have patience.
 
But I should know better.
 
A few weeks ago I was doing better. I had days, whole days, that had nothing written on them… well actually, maybe one day. And, well, really that was in December. No, wait, in February I had 3 days off! Good job. Okay, well actually it was because I got the flu and couldn’t go to the 3 day training I was supposed to be at. I remember feeling so relieved I had a 102 degree fever so that I could take those days off to be at home. What’s wrong with this picture? 
 
I am exhausted. My liver aches. One thing gets added to my schedule unexpectedly and I feel overwhelmed, like I’m going to throw up, like I want to hide forever from the world and let go of all responsibilities. But I can’t, I’m committed,.  I did this to myself. 
 
My alarm clock goes off at 4:30am again.
 
I’m making myself sick by being busy. Being busy is my addiction.
 
And right now I’m relapsing. I’m consciously watching myself do my addiction, feeling powerless to stop it. Like I’m a victim of my calendar and all the things I have said “yes” to. Feeling like I need to do all these things in order to cope with what’s going on in my personal life, to cope with not wanting to feel. I’m too busy to have time to feel. How convenient.
 
And the world says: you’re amazing that you can do all of that, it’s inspiring. And I’m justified. Validated. Empowered. To keep doing my addiction. To "get shit done." To use my calendar to avoid living my life.
 
And then I’m fatigued. I’m exhausted. My abdomen aches.
 
You know better. This is how you got sick in the first place. Change your lifestyle. You have to.  And I judge myself. And my alarm goes off at 4:30a again.
 
STOP.  Just stop... Slow down sweet girl. You pace is dizzying, running around in a circle. Listen deep within. Grown up Zina has you now, and is rocking you. It’s okay. Just feel. Feel your precious heart and this moment of life that will not come back again. Who do you want to be when you grow up into this moment? Who do you want to be with? How does that time look, feel, and taste? Don’t miss your life.
 
Sometimes we relapse on our own toxic behavior. Even when we know our lives and health depend on us staying sober. And we suffer as we watch ourselves. And it’s okay… hand on heart, breath in belly. I caught myself sooner this time. I see my pain and frustration. I’m going to be okay, and I’m moving in the right direction.
 
I look at my calendar, start taking out blocks of color, make a few phone calls, sigh into the blank spaces. Alarm goes off at 7a.
 
I can choose to be busy, but less busy, and be aware and awake. I can have self-compassion. I can feel a little. I can be in community. I can do the counter-cultural thing. I can say yes, but also no. I can change. I can honor my health.
 
Does any of this feel true for you? Comment below:

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day.
 
Today I think about how people struggle, and triumph.  How one person is able to be the voice for many who are disenfranchised.  And I feel the potential power that we all have to take our lived experience, share it, make a difference, and, literally, change everything. 
 
And then I instantly feel bad. I feel guilty.  I hear the little voice, well today, of all days, you should be grateful.  You should sit down and write a message about hope, just like every other blog I received in my email today.  So suck it up and get on the bandwagon of poetic encouragement!
 
When really, today, I’m feeling a bit down.  Yup, I’m actually feeling pretty sorry for myself. Oh geez, am I actually writing this right now? What the heck does this have to do with MLK, freedom, and dreams?
 
Freedom means gaining the privilege of more choice, and the opportunity of more responsibility. 
 
Having a dream means having the ability to look beneath what is on the surface, and see the possibility and magic of the underbelly. 
 
Here’s my ugly truth about freedom: today I’m choosing to admit that I’m having a rough day.  And about dreams: today I’m having a hard time seeing them, or when I do, that they could ever be achievable. 
 
I can feel my false-self (you know, the one that stands in front looking pretty, healthy, perfect, and in control on the outside all the time) freaking out right now… you can’t write that, remember, be an inspiration, be a posterchild for living successfully with illness. 
 
And I say… how about I be a posterchild for being genuine, messy, and human? Some days are hard.  Some days you find out someone you’ve known your whole life just died.  And that a family member who has been intensively struggling with cancer may need another invasive medical procedure.  You realize you have your appointment with your hematologist/oncologist in a couple of days (never not nerve-wrecking, never sure when another bomb might potentially drop regardless of how well you’ve been feeling). The relationship you are most invested in has potentially heartbreaking complications.  And you’re fatigued, really fatigued. So that when you come to the end of your day, and first have time to do the things you love and have been looking forward to do all day, you’re so tired that you can’t even comprehend it.  Freedom, dreams… maybe tomorrow. 
 
No, maybe freedom and dreams today, right now.  These ones.  Because maybe there is room for these not-so-pretty truths to be part of our freedom and dreams too.  Maybe freedom provides us a greater spectrum of choice in how we perceive our lives… both the challenging parts and the joy-filled parts.  Maybe it’s an inspiration to others to be who you are, and how you are, without editing.  Maybe it actually all counts.  And it’s all part of our human experience.  Maybe my dream is that each of us can speak our present moment truth, and be in a the company of others that can say, thank you for being you, for being real.  And when someone else is vulnerably taking a chance to share their real truth, we can tolerate it, and say, ya, I can see how sometimes things suck, instead of just jumping in and trying to make them feel better.  
 
So for me right now, my truth is to connect with those I love, and then curl up with an episode of Downtown Abbey.  Because today was difficult.  But as my dad responded to me earlier, you’re not dead yet.  Well, I suppose that’s true too.