A choice.

Happiness is a choice. Once I realized that, I realized that every day is an opportunity to live full of love and joy.  Being conscious of that has changed my life. I’m becoming the person I want to be simply by choosing to be that person.

Meditation, nutrition, chiropractic, exercise, gratitude… these are all tools to put my choice into action.

I’ve been in really low places a couple of times in my life. I’ve had periods when I’ve been self-destructive. I don’t ever want to go back there. (That place scares me.) So much so that any dip in my mood makes me analyze what’s going on in my life.  

Why am I feeling this way?

What do I need to change? Do I need to cut out alcohol? Tell my friends I love them more often? Meditate on opening my heart? Go for a long run with my dog? Cut out the junk that's slipped into my diet? Get adjusted?

(Yes.)

But then I find myself being so hard on myself. I don’t even let myself experience the negative. Lately I’ve been stressed and sad. Maybe I have good reason to be. Maybe I’m blessed beyond belief and I should recognize that. Maybe I can make the choice to feel this without the fear of slipping down too deep?

 I just might be big enough.

I want to sit in my melancholy. I want to let it take me over. (Not forever, but for now.)  I want to feel the converse of joy. The opposite of bliss. I want to know that it’s okay to be human. And that humans feel deep grief and sorrow. And cry. And mourn.

 And for once, not to be afraid of it.

My heart aches. Right now, that feels appropriate and satisfying.

My Handsome Man

I met Johnson on June 14^th, 2005. He was a funny looking dog. Half basset hound, half lab, and beautiful golden brown eyes. I was newly married and we had been talking and dreaming about a dog. We saw him. We fell in love when he flopped over in the grass with his long ears, short legs, and rub-my-belly grin. We put in our adoption application, nervous about being adequate doggy parents. I was so excited. But I never knew what I was getting myself into.

I never knew that learning to train him would lead me to teaching dog training classes. Those were hours and hours filled with joy. (And a little frustration.)

I never knew that my interest in canine behavior and nutrition would lead me to become a veterinary technician where I met a couple of my very best friends, and my little terrier.

I never knew that when he wouldn’t walk, and I sat next to him on the sidewalk in tears, that chiropractic would be the answer.

I never knew that chiropractic would be my future. That I would have this focus and drive. A purpose that I was unaware of until he showed me one little aspect of what chiropractic is.

I never knew that when my husband and I broke up that Johnson would stay in Madison with him while I came to Davenport. I never knew that I would be without them. I never knew that broken hearts heal or that broken dreams are replaced by larger aspirations.

I never knew that when I received a text from my ex at 9:28 am informing me Johnson was taken to the emergency vet that he wouldn’t come home again. That we wouldn’t have answers as to why he had almost no platelets in order to stop the internal bleeding. That I would receive a phone call from the vet while I was in the school cafeteria and that the tears streaming down my cheeks would be so hot. 

I know that I will never throw balls for him again. I know that I will never bury my face in his neck and smell his stink again. I know that I won’t ever fight him for space on the couch again. It hurts so much to know those things.

And now I know, as I type in tears, that some of the most wonderful and beautiful things in life are those that I never knew.

Called.

Atlas is my favorite :)

I know that I am meant to be a chiropractor, and I know that through chiropractic I will serve humanity.

It sounds so lofty, righteous even, that sometimes I laugh over it. But it’s a fact. I own that truth deep in my heart, in my bones, in each cell, in each molecule, in each atom. And in the stuff that those atoms are made of. And the stuff that stuff is made of. See? I’m a little melodramatic about it all.

But the more I learn, the more I realize how powerful chiropractic is. It’s as simple as getting someone out of pain. That’s powerful. It’s as huge as a person’s vibrational tone within the universe. That’s powerful.

And the more I learn, the more I realize how powerful I am.

But I doubt so much.

Sometimes, I listen to outside voices. I should do a high volume practice. I should be doing screenings. This technique is better. Philosophy is the most important, no wait!, evidence is the most important! Do anything that helps your patient. Don’t mix. A kind heart will get taken advantage of.

Sometimes, I listen to inside voices. I’m not smart enough. I don’t read enough. I don’t know my anatomy well enough. I’m fat. I'm ugly.  I’m not intuitive enough. Why can’t I feel that? I'm wrong. I’ll never get this!  I should relax. Don't ever let up.

Sometimes, I listen to the universe. That’s when I hear the truth. The truth is, it’s okay to be quiet about my philosophy. It’s there and it’s strong. It’s okay to not know just how I will do a not-for-profit practice. It will happen.  It’s okay to feel alone and doubtful. My heart and my determination are right where they need to be- the details will fall into place.

So many things in life I roll my eyes at, shrug my shoulders to, or laugh off. But I take this journey so seriously. I keep walls up and people out for fear that I’ll get off track. Then I’m upset because I feel alone. I don’t tell the whole truth for fear that I’ll get talked out of my dreams. Then I’m upset because I’m misunderstood.  And I wonder why I struggle and fight to be big when others seem to be so content in mediocrity.  

(It’s scary and it’s lonely and it’s hard.)

But, even in the mist of my doubts, I trust my place within the universe. This is what I am meant to do and to be. I am certain in my calling and in my aspiration.

I’m really lucky that way.

Sacrifice

My church is doing a series on Gandhi’s Seven Social Sins. This week covered “Religion Without Sacrifice”.  Sacrifice is giving up something of value. Its opposite is holding onto something. The result of religion without sacrifice? Life without integrity.

That struck a chord. I don’t have a problem giving of myself. I’m not overly attached to money or material objects. Sacrifice isn’t something I thought I struggled with. But I do like to hold onto certain things. Mistakes I’ve made. Unreasonable expectations of myself. I keep old wounds close at hand so they can be easily revisited. Then, I build up walls to protect myself and safeguard my things. I’ve gotten in the habit of living this way.

It’s comfortable.

But I’ve started noticing that hoarding such things is preventing me from living the life I claim I want. It’s preventing me from living with integrity. It’s preventing me from being the person I know I am meant to be.

I no longer question if I can be big. I will be. I will make a difference in the lives of my patients. I will serve my community. I will contribute to the art, science, and philosophy of chiropractic. But to continue working towards this bigness, I need to live with integrity and honesty within my own self. That’s going to get uncomfortable.

But it’s not about me and my comfort. It’s about service. It’s about fulfilling my potential. Anything less would be a lie.

 Dictionary.com defines sacrifice as “the surrender or destruction of something prized or desirable for the sake of something considered as having a higher or more pressing claim.”

This is pressing. There is a higher claim. To be big… to follow my path… to have faith in my journey… Sacrifices will have to be made.

I Heart Wisconsin

I <3 Wisconsin.

I believe that happiness is a choice. I believe that gratitude and love are the keys to putting that choice into action. But I might be way too hard on myself.

Walker won Wisconsin.

My mom cried.

What did I do? I tried to talk her out of it. I tried to tell her that we can’t know the bigger picture and that things will work out. The universe will provide. She will be okay. My sister’s health insurance will be okay. Gay rights will be okay. Reproductive rights will be okay. And the fact that outside interests can buy an election in the state that I love will be okay. Then I went outside to cry where no one would see what a big hypocrite I am.

And today I’m punishing myself for being upset when what I should be is grateful that we have the right to vote. I should love thy neighbor, even thy Walker voting neighbor. I should trust that the universe will provide. I should remember the world is bigger and more complex than I can possibly understand.

I read Tolle, Strand, and Dyer and want to live by their messages. I am awed by humans like Jesus, Gandhi, and the Buddha. So I set goals for myself that focus on love, forgiveness, honesty, gratitude, and trust.

I aim for graciousness to the point I am disgusted with myself for ever wanting. I can’t forgive myself when I can’t let something go.  I hate myself when I struggle to love others. I am honest in so many arenas, but lie about some of the most basic aspects of myself.

I am human. I was created perfectly and am loved completely. So maybe it’s okay to cry sometimes? Maybe I need to love myself as well? Forgive myself? And if I could trust myself as well as the universe…

These are all great aspirations. Now the hard part is to not to be so hard on myself.

Liar Liar

The people that are closest to us have the ability to hurt us the most. They know what to say, they know where to poke, they know how to best salt a wound. That sucks.

But, so much worse than that, is when we are our own worst enemy. The things the outside world says and does can hurt, but the things we tell ourselves can be so much worse. When it comes to talking to me, I’m a big liar.

Lie #1: I am fat and ugly.

Lie #2: That mean note I wrote to Jennifer in middle school makes me a bad person for the rest of my life.

Lie #3: A box on the wall chiropractic practice will never work.

Lie #4: If it’s hard and scary I should just give up.

Lie #5:  I’m a huge failure because I couldn’t keep my marriage together.

Lie #6: I will just make the same mistakes over and over again.

Lie #7: What other people think matters.

Lie #8: I’m not smart enough.

Lie #9: I’m too little to be big.

Lie #10: I am anything less than love.

I’m not sure how to work with this. I know that identifying these as lies is a step in the right direction… And I know everyone speaks to themselves in damaging ways.  So how to stop? I’m not sure.

I am sure of many truths about myself. Is it a matter of the truths out weighing the lies? Or is there a way to really stop lying to ourselves?

I do know that I’m learning from my mistakes. I’m working every day at being big. And I know in my heart that I am love. Those are important truths.

Box on the Wall

Almost a year ago I was talking with a friend in the library about accepting insurance as a chiropractor. I’m not a fan of insurance and I’d rather not have it be part of my practice. But that leaves me with the issue of affordability. Her answer to my concerns? A box on the wall.

The seed was planted… and left alone as I listened to what other chiropractors were doing and why. Chiropractors have their reasons for accepting insurance; they have their reasons for a cash only practice. They have their reasons for signing up a patient for a yearlong care plan; they have their reasons for not. And all the while I feel a terrible unease about the disparity in health care access along socioeconomic lines.

Then last week in philosophy club “box on the wall” was brought up as a measure of the value patients place on chiropractic and the care they are receiving. It was argued that if patients are educated in what chiropractic is and are seeing results in their life then they will be willing to compensate the doctor appropriately. And the seed sprouted.

In that moment I decided to go for it. Will I be able to pay my rent? My student loans? Dr. Wayne Dyer says, “Don’t ever let money be a reason you don’t fulfill your destiny.” And when I told a professor of my decision he told me to be prepared to get paid in pies sometimes. As if I needed any more convincing.

Bartering would only make me more connected to the larger community. And a box on the wall would allow people to pay it forward (or backwards). It would allow others to pay as they are able. And yes, there will be people that take advantage of it. But it’s not about that.

If I have a problem with the disparity in health care along socioeconomic lines, if I want to be more fully incorporated into the community, if I believe that the universe will provide, if I live congruently… Then I will put a box up on the wall and allow each person I serve to value chiropractic.

As Dr. Joe Strauss put it, "Basically the use of this system has nothing to do with the character, the honesty, or the commitment of the patient. It depends upon the character and the love for humanity of the chiropractor."