I think about blogging nearly every day of my life, and the truth is I’ve been in a really long journey of rearranging elements of my life, my body, my home . . .

For instance, since November 2022 I’ve been in a longass process of getting myself re-enrolled in PT and OT — yes, more on this later — and there is finally light at the end of the tunnel. I’m on the schedule! (But not until late August.)

Since transition times require the most intention and mindfulness, I am not going to commit to writing in here with any sort of definable regularity quite yet. However! I am willing to show up when the energy is available and in the form it wants to come through.

What that means is the format may change; I may not sit down and write out a 10,000-word essay every time I post. Some posts will be in micro form; some will be photographic, perhaps a simple video here or there. I haven’t yet gone into detail on this on any of my blogs but for a few years now I’ve been in a deep dive around living my Human Design, which is an ongoing experiment. 

The piece I’m looking to play with here is around my undefined throat and how she needs a variety of ways to express!

Now that I’ve completed my little preamble, I’ll drop the one thing I came in here to bring to you today:

The medical model is pretty problematic; I’ve seen this everywhere in the US, I’ve seen it in Taiwan, I’ve even experienced it in Italy and witnessed it in the UK. It was alarming to me what went on in Australia during the height of the pandemic. Even in the countries that everyone projects has it so “great,” in my opinion that is still rooted in a foundation of a highly flawed system. Chances are if you’re a reader of this blog you have a lived experience of what I’m talking about.

But as much as the system sucks, there are small ways you can exercise your own sovreignty and agency.

The example most alive for me in this moment is in the arena of supplements.

If you’re concerned about the quality of your supplements (as I am), in an unregulated industry — a general rule of thumb is to only purchase your supplements either directly from the website of the company that makes them or from your medical provider. (If you’ve got access to a Full Script store, or another reputable dispensary, that could work, too.)

The irony of the fact that it is Prime Day today is not lost on me when I say this — but that same rule of thumb says to avoid ordering supplements on Amazon, because as of yet they haven’t really regulated who can and can’t sell supplements (and there can be a lot of dupes).

We generally try not to rely on Amazon for absolutely everything because we would rather invest in our local businesses when possible, but sometimes — under time or monetary constraints — Amazon can be of service.

What I did this week was I put my investigator hat on and found the “store” within Amazon that sells me a probiotic that I’ve been taking. I went on the official website of the company and contacted them asking them if this Amazon store was theirs.

They wrote me back right away and confirmed that it was in fact their store. This allowed me to relax and continue my subscribe & save with peace of mind. (And of course, come the day that our situation changes for the better, we can always make the swap back to ordering directly from the company.)

It may not be a groundbreaking, life-altering shift, but remember: We are only victims to navigating our lives if we choose to be.

Warmly,

Pamela

I’m finally back from my 16 days in SoCal — it feels to me like I was gone for far longer because of the energetic toll that hit me in body, mind, spirit. It also feels like I’ve slept about 20 hours a day since I’ve been back.

The re-entry process back into regular life when I no longer feel like a “regular me” has always been a tricky one. As a policy, I never book flights immediately before or after out-of-state live events like most do; I know my body well enough to know that I require some serious aftercare to come back down to Earth.

It’s not because I’m a diva or because I’m rolling in mega-riches — it’s because I’ve developed a relationship to my body of respect and love. What that means is when I haven’t taken care to make sure I’ve got the space I need after going really hard, I would end up paying for it.

Can’t even tell you the number of times I’ve absentmindedly lost something valuable (a passport, a purse, about four different iPods) or got physically lost because my brain was offline and I didn’t realize it. And this isn’t just a post-stroke symptom; it’s just become about 1500% amplified since the injury.

To deny that this shit happens only guarantees that it will happen in fuller force. It’s a part of me, and I’m getting better with it all the time, but denying it definitely wasn’t helping.

Can you love the body you’ve got as it already is, now?

Like, not just “warts and all,” but for serious — warts, rolls, freckles, moles, grey hairs, wrinkles, whatever — plus all its other “defects”? How about all its ways it tries to get your attention?

A lot of those “defects” can feel like wasted time in the moment to try and prevent, but can I just point out how much time, money, energy is spent trying to recover from losing track of important stuff/things/people etc. after the fact?

Although beauty is important, this goes way beyond aesthetics. This touches everything about you and your experience. So you’ve had a stroke; maybe one side of your body, like mine, feels a little “behind.”

Can you let that be okay? Can you, despite any impatience around how slow progress may feel, still hug yourself and send love to yourself, let your body know that you see it’s been hurt somewhere very profound — because it has been! — and that it’s okay as it is, right now?

I remember the first time I ever sent loving energy to my left arm. I released tears I didn’t even know I’d been holding onto for a decade. The experience changed my life.

Try it for five minutes today.

And five minutes tomorrow.

The relationship to your body takes time and nurturing to build — and if you can do it (I know you can), it will change your life for the better.

This will be hard if you have never given yourself permission to give yourself what you need, and all you know is to fight that you have any needs at all.

How has that been working for you?

You know what to do. Incorporate, comment, share. Because I care about you, and you do too.

Warmly,

Pamela

The thing is, everyone has these sides to them, and when we aren’t willing to express them, we aren’t being truthful. This doesn’t mean we should all willy-nilly go on rampages attacking innocent bystanders (though clearly the American collective especially has been moving through that for a long time); it comes with personal responsibility. It comes with knowing our impact.

And so even though I can play a masterful long game of pretending I’m all love and light all the time (and I have), the truth is I’m not. When I chronically hide my more unsavory feelings, it is an act of violence against myself.

When we aren’t being truthful about who we are, we are inherently un-trustable. We are engaging in a subtle manipulation rooted in the fawning trauma response in an attempt to find safety in our audience. Yes, trauma responses make sense given our histories — but the kicker is, when we do that, we inevitably become the one who is unsafe for others.

So I’m going to experiment with a series here called “Feeling Spicy.” Please take care of yourselves and don’t read the posts about topics you know you don’t have the capacity to stay grounded in and hold yourself in. I’ll be mindful of informing you of what I’m about to talk about on those posts.

A note, too, about this series: It is likely that conditioned “stuff” will come up for you. You may want to rebut or argue with me or convince me.

This is not the place for that. This is my digital space that I pay for, care for, and put my love into creating out of generosity.

If you become so activated you cannot tolerate reading my words without jumping into my comments section to try and put me in my place, know that I will definitely delete it.

The Internet can be a magical place where we are able to share ourselves, and I am so fucking thankful for it. And, it’s also a place where lots of people have developed the cowardly habit of hiding behind anonymity to dump their vitriol.

This was something my friends and I would do as 14-year-olds discovering chatrooms for the first time. I’ll rephrase this: Hiding behind anonymity on the Internet in an attempt to antagonize another is a behavior appropriate for young teenagers dealing with the confusion and turmoil of puberty without a healthy outlet.

So as much as I accept I haven’t always been “above it,” I encourage anyone who may find strong issue with hating on what I have to say to take it to their space. Their journals. Their art. Their therapist. Their blog. Their social media.

That said, being a human is complex and nuanced. There is only hope to heal rifts within ourselves and others through connection and personal responsibility.**

What that might look like is this: if you are able to stay in your body, to breathe and ground, with your heart open, any entitlement to my time/attention/energy in check, and there is something you’d like to say in response, you are welcome to write to me from that place.

Here we go!

Pamela

*For those of you who are familiar with Human Design, I’m a 5/1 emotional generator with the full Channel of Mating that includes Gate 6 (friction). If you aren’t familiar with HD, I will eventually post either some resources or a full article on this very important system I live in experimentation with.

I’ve had quite the journey with my AFO (ankle-foot orthotic), which was custom made for me when I was 19. I had cast it aside out of pride and stubbornness (and vanity) when I was maybe 21, also because I didn’t want to encourage atrophy in those muscles. But I’m in the clumsiest phase of my cycle right now, and when we strapped that AFO back on yesterday I basically felt the hallelujah chorus radiate through my body.

There’s more to this I want to dig into and write about for this blog, but for now I am just so thrilled to what is possible for me in the arena of outdoor play these days. I’ll also share a bit later on about my experience on an adult tricycle last summer at Mackinac Island!

After yesterday’s activities, today’s big restorative practice is to reset the heart of the home (the kitchen), which took a huge hit during our hurricane of prep for the park.

Let’s talk about transitions.

I was once at a hot yoga class, where I changed postures and suddenly I experienced some sharp pain in my knee! I’d never had that before and I was concerned I’d done something incorrectly. I’d done it very quickly, aiming to keep myself at pace with everyone else.

At the end of the class, I approached the teacher and shared what had happened. What she said next has remained with me for years:

“We must be the most mindful during transitions.”

I don’t know about you, but I often get myself in the most amount of trouble when I do things quickly out of trying to keep pace with the rest of the world (or what I perceive as the rest of the world). It’s the easiest time for me to self-abandon, and the best safeguard I have found in 15 years against this is to deeply ground into my body and slow everything the heck down.

Transitions are any pockets of time between one activity and the next — for me, they’re non-negotiable. I don’t do anything back-to-back. The more activity I outwardly do, the more of a rest period I build in in between that and the next thing. This could be a game changer for most people post-stroke.

The tricky part is even if I’m doing something that energizes me, I still need at least a brief interlude between activities to get back into my body and get present once more. The trappings of engaging in high-energy-taking-as-well-as-giving activities for me is I can fool myself into believing I can just go, go, go endlessly.

Energy management is a skill developed mindfully and with great devotion to presence to your body and what it needs from you. It is an unlearning of wider societal habits and a re-learning of getting in touch with how your body communicates with you.

The cool thing about presence is that it’s got this funky ability to bend time, and the more present I am — the more paradoxical my experience becomes.

The more present I am, the slower I can move, yet the more efficient I become.

The more present I am, the more deliberate my movements, yet the more free of tension I am.

The more present I am, the more I occupy my entire body, yet the more connected to Spirit I am.

The more present I am, the more loving I become towards myself, yet the more I love others.

I’ve found that the more I integrate deeper and deeper presence to my transitions, ironically — the less I need all that time to transition! I make such a regular practice of becoming present with myself (through meditation, dance, journaling, among other things) that dropping in and fully inhabiting everything I am takes just a moment. Not even five minutes. Sometimes, just a deep breath will do it.

That kind of deep love for yourself will always be there for you — but first you must be there for it.

I invite you to start a practice of getting present. Of stopping all the doing and just being for a change, of dropping all the judgments and the stories of what “should” be and being kind enough to yourself to create much-needed spaciousness in your life.

Begin with just five minutes at a time. A timer can be one of your best friends!

Notice whatever comes through for you, in your body, whether that’s emotion or even numbness. Do your best to remain neutral about what you feel/see. You can even name the sensations aloud: “I feel tingling in my foot, and a warmth in my belly. A small constriction in my throat, and my eyebrow feels a bit itchy.” There’s no way to do it wrong besides not doing it at all.

I promise, the more presence you bring into your life, the less frantic you’ll feel, the less inclined to succumbing to outside pressure. There’s nothing better than true groundedness in who you are and honoring exactly what it is you need to do you, boo.

Leave a comment and share your experience with getting present — and share this with someone who’d benefit from this!

Enjoy your weekends, all.

Love you.

Pamela

Sudden, unexpected bodily needs. Family stuff. I had to take things waaaay slower than “high achiever” me would’ve liked, but it was an amazing call. I’ll fill you in on the quantum leap I made by doing so (hopefully later today).My only regret is I didn’t say anything here. I’d had every intention to post as usual (and I had a great one on deck for you all!), but the call to tend to family and personal matters was stronger than my will. For that, I apologize.

That said, I never apologize for taking care of myself and heeding the call of my body. Guess what? This is an excellent time to refer back to my February mantra: I’m doing the best I can, and that is enough. Because sometimes you gotta let Life have you. You were never in control in the first place.

I used to hate my last name because almost no one could read it properly, and the various misspellings were creative at best and horrendous at worst.

(For the record, it’s more or less pronounced “shay” — like shea butter.)

But in recent years I’ve really come to love it, because what is it they say? That it’s impossible to be angry and grateful at the same time? Turns out, it’s the perfect gift to have such a constant reminder.

We live in a scarcity culture, where nothing is ever enough.

I literally practice reminding myself, via writing, every single night of everything I’ve gotten to do that day (whether it’s getting dressed, having taken a walk around the neighborhood, or created something kickass) and what that achieved so that I don’t fall into a rabbit hole of scarcity. I also list out random things I appreciate about myself and as a practice, share appreciations with Anthony verbally before bed. Some days it feels like swimming upstream and most other days I feel freeeeeee.

The other day, someone close to me was feeling down on himself, like “the day was a wash.”

Though I totally understood where they were coming from (I’ve been there many times), that’s an insidious habit that’ll send you plummeting into the world of never enough. Something I ended up saying in response to them moved me to tears as I spoke.

I told them that every single day they got to open their eyes, take a breath, and start the day was a gift. That there were countless other people who tomorrow couldn’t do the same. And then I pointed out that every single day they get to move their body all day long in ways I still dream of, in ways I haven’t moved mine in 15 years. That that was a miracle, and that I wished they could see it.

I didn’t share this at all to disparage them, but to gently point out that this is something we all do sometimes. Being a human is hard.

Carrying on after a stroke is hard. Damn hard. And there’s no manual.

But if you are well enough to be reading these words right now, then you are blessed with so much more than you are seeing when you’re having one of those moments. Swap scaricity out for gratitude, and really let it into your heart.

Watch your life transform.

Did this resonate? Drop a comment and tell me why — or share with a friend who needs to hear it.

Love,

Pamela

Impatience.

We all slip into it once in a while — some more than others.

There’s this thing with our energy, when it’s charged up in a flurry to meet some sort of outcome, that the last thing it wants is to be still.

I had a flashback during my meditation today, where I suddenly remembered that when I was in preschool, my class had a mandatory nap break in the middle of the day.

I usually never wanted the nap, because I wanted to do stuff! I wanted to connect with people, play games, anything but nap. So they spoke to my parents. Told them I wasn’t allowed to bring my pillow to school anymore because all I did during nap time was play with it and it was disruptive to the other kids who were actually trying to rest.

Though I did eventually end up hiding behind my writing especially in my teen years, and then the stroke hit at 19 and turned my entire life upside-down, this energetic and active, magical child that I once was is still alive and well.

Regardless, for a long time post-stroke, because suddenly doing anything took way longer than I felt it should, I reeeeally had to develop a capacity for generosity towards myself and the time I needed.

A few years ago, I traveled out of state with a small group of women on my business team at the time. There was supposed to be a shuttle to pick us up from the airport to take us to our hotel, and for some reason, the shuttle was running behind. We were to wait another 45 minutes to catch the next one.

I remember just how upset the entire group became at this news. Instantly, like awakening a sleeping dragon, the complaining began, and I stood beside them. I, however, was silent, and had to excuse myself to the bathrooms to find peace and quiet again.

Because for me, on any given day, 45 minutes can be how long it takes me to meditate and feel decent enough to get out of the house. I could take an entire 45 minutes to eat a meal — probably more.

The stroke taught me a lot of things, but above all, it forced me to sloooooow down.

Of course, I fought the slowness at first, but now, I sometimes will take myself to a coffee shop just to order a tea and enjoy my own company.

Not everything must be done so quickly, at all times. Of course, there are times I feel impatient too, but most of the time — and I’d venture to say even, every time — impatience is just a complete waste of energy.

It’s not kind; it’s not generous. It’s not all that effective, and it takes away the gift of the moment.

So when you feel tempted to rage at someone or something that’s taking longer than you’d prefer, take a breather. Do your best to take in what’s all around you. It’s here for you, supporting you, all around.

All is well. I promise.

You guys, I loved going live yesterday. I was a #hotdangmess — furreal, my surroundings looked like they’d exploded and the only presentable place I could find to record myself was in front of my white curtains, and then I was over 10 minutes late to the redo after I had to delete the abruptly ended broadcast I originally did — and since I had to do it twice, I got to watch a whole lot of me rambling to see what worked and what didn’t.

This was me leaning into my own yes: Inspiration had hit on my way home in the snowstorm to doing a livestream instead of writing a post, and though going live is always intimidating, I knew that challenging myself to do so would change things up in an interesting way and build up a muscle that I’d like to develop.

I’m extraverted by nature and loooved performing as a child and young adult. But because I began to hide from the world post-stroke, mainly because for a long time having had the stroke was a source of shame for me, I really stopped doing a lot of things I actually loved. It wasn’t necessarily conscious, of course, but I stopped dancing, theatre, sports. Stopped wearing things I wanted to wear so that I could feel safer walking around or safer being seen.

So doing a live broadcast is actually exciting for me. There’s no one making me do it, but it’s aligned with the way I enjoy expressing myself. That’s where my yes lay.

Hiding out is no fun. It feels . . . flat, uneventful. Like I’ve purchased a front-row seat to someone else’s show, someone else’s life. I don’t get to participate, be an active creator in what’s going on.

To be sure, hiding is a useful tool at times. Hiding out from the Inquisition in 1500s Spain when you’re secretly a Jew? Probably an actual lifesaver. But hiding who I really am from the world when there are people who need to hear some truth told to them in the way I deliver it? Who’s that in service to? My inner scaredy cat, and no one else.

Part of this yes naturally comes with a sense of danger, of thrill. There was no real voice of resistance, other than, “I don’t want to have to do this every single week. I know how you are.”

Ha. By the way, did I forget to mention that the voice of resistance (i.e., the ego) is very tricky, and VERY clever? Of course she is. She’s you, designed to protect you by holding you back — and if she weren’t a tricky trickster, you’d get the best of her every time.

Give thanks to her. Acknowledge her for trying to protect you, and then work with her to find a win/win.

So I’ll address the elephant in the room: Am I going to do FB Lives on the regular now that I’ve had this win? Now that I’ve done two in one day(!)?

I don’t know yet. I still need to have a chat with my Resistance, but I can’t say for sure. I’ll keep you posted.

This week, I got sick.

I almost never get sick.

I think there was a part of me that actually wanted the excuse to slow things down and refocus on me again. Instead of either pushing ahead, blinders on, or completely shutting down and becoming a total couch potato for two weeks (what I might’ve done in the past), I did my best to find a sweet spot between the two. I’ve slept good amounts and watched a few hours of Gilmore Girls reruns, but I’ve also kept focus on my goals all week without exhausting myself.

Guess what — what normally would’ve dragged out for two long weeks, I can already tell, is having its chance to work its way out of my body, and even though I’m not yet 100% to my normal energetic best, I feel pretty damn good for someone with the sniffles!

I share this because it is so. important. to listen to your body. So important to intentionally slow down when you’re running on fumes, and equally important(!!), to pick up the reins on necessary structure and direction when you’ve been flailing.

By the way, most people in our society regularly run on fumes. Which means most of them expect you to, too.

I historically have received a lot of flak for the pace I live my life at. It’s upsetting to a lot of hardworking people who hate to slow down, and especially since by appearance alone I can “pass” for one of them, I become an easy target.

It’s kinda like when I was an undergrad and all my roommates (where were always science majors!) would be like, “Do you ever study?” and I’d laugh — because my version of “studying” looked more like staring at my surroundings. (I majored in creative writing and Italian.)

I vastly prefer to live my life with plenty of space to do my own thing. It doesn’t mean what I’m doing is less valuable than what “the scientists” are doing, just that it’s different.

As a matter of fact — the other day I stumbled across this meme with statistics around Australia’s “working age” (18-65) stroke survivors and felt really validated:

Of the interviewed, the number one unmet need for these survivors was “psycho-emotional and cognitive support.”

The validation and joy I experienced wasn’t because I’m happy to see there are stroke survivors strongly in need of more emotional support (#duh), but because sometimes I wonder if what I’m sharing here is useful. If it’s needed.

Of course it’s needed. I write what I frickin’ wish I had had access to after I experienced my stroke.

But here’s an opportunity. Where else in my life am I seeking validation for what I am doing? That, just because it’s not popular, I feel like I have to defend or justify?

For me, it’s often around slowing down or speeding up. Every day I experiment with different doses of this.

We’ve discussed how I’ll sometimes get honked at while crossing the street “too slowly” for some impatient drivers. When that happens, I shake it off. (What am I going to do, chase them down the street to have a meaningful conversation about the virtues of compassion and patience?)

“How you do one thing is how you do everything” is a blanket statement, for sure, but oftentimes is also true. I get “honked at” for crossing streets “too slowly” all over the place.

I take “too long” to eat.

“Too long” to say what I want to say.

Often, I take a long time to even process what I’m feeling in real time.

It’s taken me 15 years to get to the point where now? I know that I just need the space I need. I don’t schedule calls and meetings back to back because I’d rather set myself up to win. I do my best not to agree to things I’ll inevitably disappoint people over. (“Can you be there two hours early?” Uh, have you met me?)

It’s a question of self-esteem and valuing what it is you need in order to be effective.

I don’t go a day without ensuring I’ve got “me” time to replenish my own energy before (and during, if I’m honest) energetically demanding circumstances. Ideally, I’ve got a couple hours in the morning to meditate, dance, and talk a walk (yes, even in the snow). And at night, I complete the day with journaling and energetic practices.

I do this often, so that on the days I don’t, it’s okay; I’m already loaded up, like a bank balance with a $1000 buffer. I’m making regular, daily deposits.

If you’re apologizing for taking care of yourself and/or people are accusing you of being too selfish for doing so, stop apologizing. Stand your ground and bask in it.

Guaranteed, without these practices I’d be Bridezilla, where my entire life is my wedding.

You may lose people you love, perhaps for a time, but I assure you, life feels far better when you’re surrounded by people who at least respect your needs. Where one person may leave you, there then becomes space for someone more aligned with you to fill. We live in a world of plenty — don’t be too attached to things looking a certain way. Better to have fewer, higher quality people in your life than a boatload of nasty shade-throwers.

On a very quick, but related, aside, the poet Mary Oliver passed away today, and I’d love to leave you with her poem “Wild Geese.”

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rainare moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

Mary Oliver, “Wild Geese”

Your homework for today is to find one thing you need to provide yourself that you haven’t been (until now), such as finding a pocket of your own “me time” or half an hour to read a good book — and claim it for yourself.

Meanwhile, the world goes on.

It always will. And as long as you live, you will have needs. Isn’t it about time to drop the judgments around having them — and start getting them met?

Stand your ground; it’s your job.

Did this resonate with you? Confuse you? Inspire you? Let me know in the comments, and share with someone who could use it!

Warmly,

Pamela