Attachment Issues



Hoodie and a Fist Bump - Happy and cool...

 I’m logging back into blogger after an almost two month hiatus. While it wasn’t necessarily on purpose, I have published at least one blog entry every month since September 2005. Wll, there was August 2008 that I missed for some reason and June and July of 2009 that got neglected for some other reason. I bet if I looked back on those dates I’d find that I was either too depressed to write or having too much fun to write. The extremes are usually the culprit when my motivation takes a vacation. Either way, somewhere in the back of my head, it’s been my intention to post a blog entry every single month. I never set out to do that. It just became that.  And it stresses me out a little when I don't.


The fact that I know and recognize this fully confirms my Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) IV diagnosis (300.3) of obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). Or to put it in spiritual terms – it confirms my attachment issues.

Thanks to the big screen, we’re all familiar with OCD. Think Jack Nicholson as Melvin Udall in As Good as it Gets. Hand washing, refusing to use restaurant silverware, not stepping on cracks, and counting the number of times he locked his door. I’ve never watched the television show Monk but apparently that character suffers from OCD as well. You get the picture. All of these “must dos” interfere with one’s ability to focus, to get along in life and to connect with people. We all probably have some sort of routine that we just have to follow…or else…or else it messes us up.

That’s pretty much my view of what attachment issues are – a lesser (or not?) level of OCD. What do we have in our lives and our daily routines, that if it gets interfered with, screws us up, plays with our heads, keeps us in our heads, and makes us anxious or depressed? We all know that nothing stays the same and that we have no control over most things in our life. Becoming attached to things, routines, people, and life in general is normal. Recognizing these attachments, noticing what’s happening in our minds when our attachments get knocked around, acknowledging what’s happening, and letting it move along, is not as easy as it sounds.

So what am I attached to besides writing a blog entry at least once per month?

• Being happy and cool - see above.

• The weather channel – I must know the forecast, especially when I’m vacationing or walking to MARTA.

• My two favorite places to lay down my yoga mat at Yoga Samadhi – it messes me up when I have to practice in a different spot!

• Stephanie’s spot in the yoga studio – it takes me time to get over it when someone else takes her spot!

• Sleep – loving this extra hour this morning!

• Olives and popcorn - enougj said.

• Glenn Campbell’s latest version of Wichita Lineman.

• Religious handouts – see below.

• My hairdresser – see below

• Speaking of Pam, Michigan accents.

• My good health – this getting old thing sucks.

• Pet names that co-workers, friends and family call me - such as sweetie, honey, boo, Carrie O, Care O., little bunny fu fu, and Care Care.

• My pets

• Doc. B.

• Going to yoga everyday

• Being predictable and non-impulsive – thus the reason I’m purposefully skipping yoga today – working on my attachment issues – it’s not going so well. I keep thinking I should be there instead of drinking coffee while sitting on my butt in front of the computer!

Hair Salon "hoodie" and a beer - Happy and cool.

Diary of a Wimpy Adult

Wimp Yourself

I’ve always known it, and yesterday confirmed it, I’m a wimp. Have been since I can remember and there’s no reason to believe I won’t remain that way. It’s caused me grief in the past and probably will in the future, but at my age, I’d say that’s just the way it’s going to be. I’m okay with it.  And I'm okay with my gravestone marker including the quote "she was so nice"...though it would be cool if someone would just go ahead and add "bless her heart" just to humor me.


But why did yesterday confirm it? It was the ten year anniversary of the September 11, 2001 massacre and I couldn’t bring myself to watch any of the reminiscing specials on television. Too much for this nervous, skittish, unassertive, girl who, ironically, was glued to the television back in September of 2001.

So yesterday I avoided the radio and the TV all day long. Despite that, it didn’t stop the world from putting my wimpiness right in front of my face.

We started off the morning with our yoga practice on the porch. It was so peaceful with the birds chirping and splashing around in the fountain. The hummingbirds and honey bees were the only things dive-bombing in the clear blue sky.  Well, that and an angry blue jay.  While I was supposed to be lying still in savasana, I instead watched a squirrel run away from blue jay.  Wimp.

After yoga, we went out to breakfast at Java Jive and sat next to a family of 4 - Mom, Dad, 12 year old daughter and 10 year old son. Daughter had on a fitted t-shirt that said “Be Aggressive!”. Son had a mohawk and a muscle shirt that said “Punish with Power”. Where do they sell these childrens' shirts? Did they make them back in the early 70’s when I was having my first and only fist fight with the neighborhood bully? Nope. I doubt it. I'm pretty sure I lost that fight.  Wimp.

Then we hit the Whole Foods for a few items to get us through the week. I made sure to park us strategically so we wouldn’t have to walk past Pet Smart where they would no doubt have a parade of free puppies, dogs, kittens and cats lined up at the front door on floats worthy of Macy's at Thanksgiving. I just can’t walk past those furry babies without feeling sad and guilty. Wimp.

So after breakfast we came home to again relax on the back porch with those hummingbirds and honey bees. And relaxing it was…until a plane flew overhead. Planes are a normal occurrence since we live only a few miles from the busiest airport in the world - but I swear this plane was flying way too low. I could hear the sputtering engine and all sorts of noises you don’t usually notice. As my blood pressure and heart rate were spiking, I looked up.  Turns out it was just a bi-plane, flying at its typical altitude, out for a Sunday saunter. Wimp!

The rest of the day I moved mushroom logs, used a power drill, raked leaves, pulled weeds by hand, chopped up the rest with the weed eater, and drank a beer.  Not so wimpy I guess! 

Hope your day balanced out like mine did and that you embrace your wimpiness, bitchiness, strength or orneriness - whatever suits you!

Does Matter Matter?

Urdhva Dhanurasana (Wheel)

Due to the love/hate relationship I have with MARTA, I’ve often referred to it as my “inconvenient truth.” This past Friday, I found myself in one of the love phases. Not because it was actually on time. It wasn’t. Not because nobody had their pants so low to the ground that there were Calvin Klein underware in my face. They did. Not because the train was on autopilot (versus the stop and go, jerking motion, throw-up inducing ride caused by the Conductor actually operating the train). It wasn’t. So what was it that put my heart in the I love MARTA zone? Drum roll please… I was the thinnest person in my train car.


Normally I don’t pay much attention to my size in comparison to the rest of the world. I just figure my figure is full, I can be skinny if I want to be hard on myself, and my BMI is under the overweight category of 25 – 29.9 (so what if it’s just barely under, right?). But doing Ashtanga/Mysore yoga for the past 2 months has been a cause for pause on the matter matter. I would bet my first born child, okay - the money I would have spent on a first born child during its lifetime - that I weigh more than anyone in the class, male or female. I have to admit that it’s been a little disconcerting to see myself in this way. Yeah, yeah, I’ve had my weight issues, but for the most part I’ve been able to stay at my current weight, give or take a few pounds, for about ten years. Do I feel better when I’m at the lower end of those few pounds? Sure I do. Am I usually okay with being at the upper end of those few pounds? Sure I am. From what I know, I haven’t lost any sleep, friends, money or happiness over the issue.

And this isn’t really about comparing myself to the people with whom I practice Ashtanga. It’s just a fact that I didn’t really think about or acknowledge until good old MARTA put it in my face like a smelly armpit. It is what it is.

That being said, one more thanks to my Ashtanga Yoga Atlanta teachers. It’s where I spend most of my energy right now so bear with me. Then I promise to go back to my old frivolous blog-writing modus operandi.  Todd and Stephanie treat me just like any other new person that comes into the studio. They put up with smelly armpits as they help people (me) into Marichyasana C and D (a scrunched up kind of twist). They believe even chunky girls can do Urdhva Dhanurasana (picured above, that I could never do as a little girl let alone an adult - but all those University of Michigan-bound gymnastics girls COULD do it while simultaneously skipping rope, doing cartwheels and playing jacks). It's clear that my new teachers just flat out seem to believe in and support everyone whether they are new, experienced, thin, fat, or somewhere in between.

I’ve paid for month 3 in advance – so no turning back until at least September!

Wish me luck.  Or better yet, join me?