Recovery: The Re Emergence and Death of my Perfectionism

This may seem like an obvious statement, but for this individual in recovery, it’s a revelation that has left me dumbfounded. Here goes: I, am not.... perfect. That’s right. I am not perfect.  I make mistakes. I have flaws and character defects. I slack off, I give up, I lose interest. I can be selfish and self seeking, dishonest, and fearful. I’ve got scars on my body and my heart, and I’ve given out my fair share of scars to others. I’m not your standard beach babe in a bikini, I get B’s on tests, I’m socially awkward and I mess up at work. I’ve been known to snap at my mother on the phone and shoot a dirty look to a stranger. Sometimes, I fall from crow pose in yoga and can’t hold hip openers. I’m just not perfect, in fact I’m far from it.

In my drinking and drug using days, this didn’t matter. I kept up the illusion of perfection to the best of my ability, and although those around me probably didn’t buy it, I did. I never admitted fault. I strived for perfection and if I didn’t get it, I got defensive, I made excuses and divided up the blame, leaving none for me. If the excuses didn’t work, I’d lie, sometimes not even realizing that what I was saying was false. I’d wallow in a pool of self pity, and when the defenses and excuses failed, I’d drink, I’d use. Nothing could bust my impenetrable ego. So when I finally put down the substances, I was alone without my biggest lifeline, my go-to disguise. I felt utterly defeated. My ego was a balloon abruptly popped by the needle of my sobriety. Suddenly, I was at fault, I had done wrong. This knowledge seemed unbearable, so at first, I ran from it swiftly. My perfectionism told me I couldn’t be a perfectionist, much like my alcoholism had told me I couldn’t be an alcoholic. Sure, I didn’t hold others to the standards I held myself to, but that was to be expected. I was supposed to do better, be better, illuminate with success, right? Everyone was watching and waiting for me to be someone, to do something!

So, a few weeks sober.... I took control, or so I thought, of everything I possibly could around me. I criticized my partner, I obsessed over grades. I abandoned hobbies I wasn’t the best at. I thought I should feel better NOW and I hustled to therapy, anticipating instant results. I even tried to be the best at recovery, bragging about how many 12 step meetings I had made it to that week.

Recently, however, something has shifted. Perhaps this shift emerged from my ongoing step work, or my ever-evolving yoga practice. Whatever the catalyst, I am grateful, because my perfectionism was absolutely exhausting. I figured out that within my expectations, was the decision that I should be great at things by default, at the start. I didn’t account for the necessity of practice or reality of living. Ok, so practice yields skills and success, yes...but then more realizations roll in. There simply isn’t enough time in the day for total life excellence! I can’t be the best at everything. I have to prioritize. I have to decide what values and paths deserve the majority of my attention. So, I made a list of what I’m not, and embraced it: I’m not a perfect student, I’m not the best test taker, I’m not a perfect daughter, and at times I’m a crummy partner. I can’t fix bikes or cars and I’m seemingly over the age of one hundred when I’m dealing with computers. I fail at realism and when I create art, sometimes it’s awful. No matter how hard I try, I can’t hold a handstand for more than 3 seconds.  I could be a better listener, and I could certainly be a lot less selfish.

Then I made a list of what I am, and embraced that too: I’m a hard worker and a loyal friend. I do my best to call my mother every Sunday, and I send check-in texts to other addicts.  When I paint, my emotions are translated into thick acrylic streaks that catch eyes and interest. I rock at arm balances and back bends on the mat, and I make killer yoga playlists. I’m passionate. I’m creative. I’m clever. I’m thoughtful. I'm working on being more compassionate and kind. I’m me, I’m not perfect, and that’s okay.

Life is short- I don’t have the time for perfection, and even if I did, I don’t need it. My faults make me more interesting, as does the mess of life. Letting go of perfection means embracing acceptance, healing, and relaxation. It means I can sit back and enjoy myself. It looks like  loving and being present in what I’m doing, not using my actions to impress others. It’s nourishing myself with activities that help me grow, not feeding myself with pure ego fuel. It’s not being the best automatically, it’s striving to be better.

The only perfect thing in my life today, is the sheer fact that I and my life, are utterly imperfect.  

How the hell did I get here?

Do you ever have those moments in life where you stop suddenly and say to yourself, how the hell did I get here? Tonight yielded one of those moments. Two particular events prompted this abrupt realization- both directly related to my personal journey in recovery. Tomorrow marks 9 months clean and sober from drugs and alcohol for me. Tonight, I taught a naked yoga class. So what do these events have to do with each other? 

I am in recovery from my own addictive behaviors and habits, alcoholism and bulimia. 

I don't know why I was bulimic. My mother was a feminist and I had a big sister who was a dear role model. I didn't witness either of these women in my life binge, purge, or practice other harmful eating behaviors. I read all the body positive books my mother gifted me. I was active and not over weight. Sure I was bullied in middle school, but no more so than anyone else. Yes, my parents were divorced, but I still had a loving family. I threw up everyday none the less. I would sit in my family's shower to cover the sound and puke until I was devoid of food and thought. I'd push all the chunks down the drain and clean the shower so no one would suspect a thing. I'd be the first to use the restroom in restaurants after dinner and make sure no one followed. Sometimes I wouldn't eat all day, but I'd binge and purge at night. I hated my body. I thought my stomach should be flatter. My thighs thinner. I figured no one could ever love me. I was miserable. Uncomfortable in this human suit. Confused, depressed, lonely. All I wanted was an escape from my suffocating insecurities. 

Then I discovered alcohol, and I had been saved. Saved from having to feel like I wasn't pretty, sexy or smart. Saved from my own obsessive thoughts, and saved from having to feel my emotions. I ran with it. I blacked out in high school and giddily kissed everyone I could find except my boyfriend. Then my behavior quickly turned from innocent and fun to dark and dangerous. My vomiting shifted from choice, to alcohol poisoning. I took a shot, I took off my clothes. I forgot I had to give consent and began to mark up my body and heart with deep, irreversible wounds. 

After high school, I found drugs. I let a lover test his experimental DMT on my developing brain. I snorted cocaine in bathrooms and spent college refunds on copious amounts of synthetic ecstasy. I lied, I cheated, stole... I disrespected my body and mind. I became a horrible role model for my younger sisters, abandoning all the older women in my life had taught me. I slept with men to steal their prescriptions. People used me and took advantage of me, and I them. I threw up in my sleep. I overdosed at concerts. I looked at death with an apathetic eye. I spat in the face of anyone who tried to save me. I got violent. I got sick. I got sexually assaulted. I failed classes. I dropped out of school. I moved across the country, again...and again. I ran from place to place, relationship to relationship, drug to drug.

And yet, no matter how hard I tried, I could never truly escape.

No matter what I took, no matter where I went, there I was. 

Crawling out of these fiercely ingrained habits was not easy. Yoga and therapy helped me to stop throwing up, and today, I can happily say I have not engaged in bulimic behavior in over 3 years.

Letting go of alcohol and drugs was an even harder struggle. I detoxed for days after putting down the drink. I shook, I felt dizzy, I even hallucinated a bit. A few weeks sober, my partner at the time decided he had to let me go. My heart was beyond broken, but I didn't drink. A few months sober, one of my oldest and dearest friends died in a tragic car accident, but I didn't drink. I struggled with new and old emotions. I felt like that little girl who started throwing up just to get outside of herself. But instead of binging and purging, instead of drinking or drugging, I sat with my truth. I sat in my pain. I felt anger. I tasted sadness. I let it run through me...and I was ok.

Today- I taught a naked yoga class. And I didn't care how I looked. I didn't think about my belly or my thighs. I didn't wish I was different or someone else. I felt confident and beautiful. I felt strong. I adjusted the music and gave verbal cues. I flowed through vinyasas with grace beside other people, in their naked human suits. I felt at home in my body. I felt at peace.

I came home, sober, and stayed sober. I didn't have to drink. I wasn't trying to escape myself and my thoughts weren't too much to handle. I made dinner, I played with my dog, I felt at peace.

I've gone from madness to miracles. Chaos to comfort. Spinning to stillness. I went from hating myself and destroying my body, to celebrating my sacred vessel. I've moved from destruction to creation.  From addiction, to yoga. I am forging a new way of living in this body, as myself. And I feel at peace.

A letter to Roxanne

      This summer, a very good friend of mine passed. I've been struggling with how to say goodbye to her. Folks keep telling me to pray to her, and to be honest... and that's been infuriating. I know they mean well... but I don't want to pray to her. Praying to her means she's really not here, she's really gone. That's been impossible for me to accept. But I think it's time.

      I might not be able to pray exactly to Roxanne at this point- but the last time I saw her in June I promised her I would write her a letter. Back in the day, we all wrote notes when we lived close, and letters when we were far apart. Often they'd include mundane quirky details of our lives, and eventually some of the deep, raw, true stuff. Here is my letter Roxanne,  some of it as it would have been were she still alive-some of it with the recognition of reality- she has passed.  I'm finally fulfilling that last promise.

Dear Roxanne (aka Pappykens/ Cracker):
       I'm so sorry I didn't write sooner. This summer's been a complete disaster. Currently, I'm sitting listening to a mix that Sarah made for me. It's helping. You'd love it. I wish I could send it to you, along with a few other mixes I've made lately. I'd send you all the songs I think would warm your beautiful  heart and make you sing out with eccentric joy as you do.
      I feel the need as per usual to get and give a love life update. I would have absolutely LOVED to see you get married this fall. You have been through so much with past partners, I'm so glad you found that person who truly understood you and made you happy. I never got the chance to tell you I was proud, and happy for the beautiful life you had cultivated with Shawn. I finally got the chance to talk to Shawn a bit a few days before your funeral. I wanted you to know that I can totally see why you two worked. He seems brilliant, a "button" as we used to say (one who understands the deep intricacies of the Universe and is Sarah- Jennie-Dave-Roxanne approved). I could tell how much he loved you. Sarah, Shawn and I that night talked about the workings of the galaxy, atoms, and stared up at the moon thinking of you. You chose so well.  I'm so glad you found him before this summer.
      Update from me: I got dumped. My heart is a hot mess from it all. You met Keagan a few times and gave me your vague approval.  My complex-J-fo self was just too much for him, and he left. My heart has been aching, desperately. My whole projection of my future has taken a sharp turn. In the past, when my heart has been in such a state- you were one of the only people who could help me put it back together. You'd so cleverly trick me into seeing my own awesomeness and light. Thank you. I wish I could take you to lunch now and give you all the gruesome details, but I guess you'll be spared from that. I am also SO glad you got to meet my current partner Mea before you passed. He and I will always remember that last afternoon at Thai Siam with you this spring, you telling stories and being your absurdly hilarious self. I want you to know that he truly helps  me be better. He's been helping me grow, learn, and feel loved. I think you'd approve. I also want you to know that in my mind, I've planned my own hypothetical wedding. And you were there, one of my bridesmaids... helping me on the day I committed myself to loving and caring for that one special person. I know somehow, on that day.... you'll still be there.
      The other thing I wanted to tell you is...I'm getting sober. Well, I've been sober for a few months now - but I'm also getting well. I'm going through the 12 steps and talking to other alcoholics. I wanted you to know this because you saw me at some of my darkest moments of addiction throughout our young lives . And the very last time I saw you at the beginning of this summer, my disease had truly got the best of me. I was completely drunk, in a haze, and blacked out for most of our conversation. I can't remember what you said, or even how you looked. After you and your light left the bar, my night got even grimmer. In fact, it darkened to such a deep black- I fell into a tunnel of despair that ultimately lead to the discovery of my addiction. All I can remember from the last time I saw you is this:

      That night, I was reminded of how much I loved you, and how loved I felt by you. I remembered that you were one of the only people in my life who really knew me. And you actually accepted me for who I was, good and bad, dark and light. You were one of a few who I also knew would always be there, even when you couldn't be physically. And, that I truly valued you as a human. I valued how utterly honest we had always been to each other. I valued the support you gave me for nearly 10 years. I felt so grateful for that. And, I promised you I'd write.

    So, here it is. My letter to you. I know you're probably insanely busy and you definitely can't write back. But, I'll be patient. It's the least I can do. When you're done making your rounds in other's dreams, after you've placed your hand on many shoulders who need your touch- I know you'll find some time for me. In one way or another, you'll answer my letter. You always did.

I love you Roxanne, I'll never stop. And I'll  definitely never forget you- that's for sure. But it's finally time for me to really say goodbye.

 Goodbye, Roxanne Papken.

Your Dear friend,
Jennie (aka J-fo or Vegan)

   

A letter to God

Dear God,  
While making an apple crisp in my 3rd floor apartment kitchen... with these lovely red counter-tops, and Native American flute music seeping sound waves from my iPod speakers to my ears... I dropped to my knees to thank you. I prayed on my knees with my hands clasped together, for the first time since childhood.

God, there are a lot of people in my life with a mosaic of idea’s about you. Since birth  people have been telling me who or what they think you are. As a kid, I spent a lot of time panickingly fearing you god, and frankly, it sucked. I thought a curse from my lips meant eternal damnation. I thought sex outside of wedlock would place me in a pit of pain, fire and evil. And God, I desperately loved my family and still do. We were a down to earth, loving Christian family on a self-sustaining farm. I wanted no harm or suffering to come to any of us and I wanted us all to stay together forever. But that idea of you caused me great suffering, overbearing guilt, and feelings of betrayal. Because  God, in that church, with those stories, I couldn't see you. I couldn't feel you, and I by no means could decipher your glory or importance in my life. I didn’t know you there.
Well God, my family couldn't have stayed as it was because family is meant to grow and change and hold together in ways that transcend geography. But before I knew that, in a crisp perfect story house with my big family, in a field at sunset, at Christmas snuggled on the couch, after seeing my mother cry from overwhelming happiness, at the peak of a magnificent summer day, and in a heartwarmingly delicious homemade meal, that’s where I felt you. Those moments in my life that called for all my attention to their holiness, God...that’s where I found you.

In a fierce fit of teenage emotion and a flurry of anger, I turned my back from you. I spit at the idea of your existence, I thought the answer was Nothing, zero connection, no such thing as real love, goodness or selflessness. And wow, was this an miserable world to live in. Without you God, I went astray. Not only did I stray away from your love, but I left that little child who loved you and the world alone, robbing her of her spirit. I let her be convinced that she was ugly, unworthy, and bad natured. She picked apart her body and coiled at the thought of salvation. She collected sadness and fear at school and at home and let them stew in her heart. She questioned whether she could make it in this world, or if she deserved to. God I did many things I am not proud of, but the worst of those things was turning from that little girl, turning from myself.

So God, here’s the thing. I don’t think you reign over me. I don’t think you would demand I slaughter my only child or that being gay is wrong. I don’t think sex will set me aflame and I don’t believe the people we have lost from suicide go to hell. I see no reason to believe you would like us to continue outdated rituals, and I think that one text that so many people say holds your word, does, but it’s a chip in the iceberg. I think Dharma Bum’s and a few poems I’ve heard also come close. I think some of my yoga teachers have as much knowledge of you as a priest. There’s no way in hell women were created from the rib of a man because we are all your children regardless of sex and gender, or race or even popularity... no life more worthy than the other.  God I don’t believe members of my family know you better than I, nor do I know you better than them. God... I’m done with other people telling me who you are. There are so many paths to you God, an infinite amount. Some people find your presence on top of a mountain and not in a church. Some people find you in a temple, a chapel or sweat lodge, and others find you in a forgiving hug or a perfectly timed smile from a stranger. God, I don’t think you are a boy or a girl. I think you are something and someone much bigger than a gender could even begin to describe. God I don’t think you prefer any person over another. Or species over others.  I think you are forgiving, soft, strong, joyful, compassionate and brave. I think in a sense I am you, that your light is in all of us and every living thing, from bugs in soil, to towering trees, to antelope. Your light can be in the ugliest of things. And if you look deep enough in the darkest of caves, your light will shine through. I find you in moment of ecstatic dance. I've felt you in a lover’s touch and at the end of sentence in an incredible book. I hear you in music. I feel you in savasana and when I  really find my breathe. Your influence is  there when I stop myself from speaking when I’m too angry, and when I do a good deed. You’re by my side when I meditate and I don’t think you are ashamed when I have sex. I swear I can taste your love in garden veggies and tea.  I've seen you in my  baby sister’s eyes and I felt you in the air at my big sister’s wedding. I find you in support from a  friend. God I see you even in the eyes of my enemies or those who say I can’t see you at all.

So God. I am done with other people telling me I don’t know you. I want our relationship to keep growing, I think this is just the beginning of my journey. I think you are accessible to everyone, at every walk of life, and I know you have plans for me.

Today when I knelt down and prayed, I ended with “Namaste God”. God, you know this but Namaste is:

“an ancient Sanskrit greeting still in everyday use in India. Translated roughly, it means "I bow to the God within you", or "The Spirit within me salutes the Spirit in you" - a knowing that we are all made from the same One Divine Consciousness.”

When I spoke those words to myself for the first time in prayer, I felt your love and your light shining down on me. But, God... I also felt it radiating in my own heart. I may never speak or fear you like some. I may do asana more than I pray.  I’m gonna keep chanting all your names in my bedroom and the studio, even on the sidewalk once in a while. Strolling down the street to  “Hare Rama, Hare Krishna”. I might be awkward or sloppy and from time to time, I know I’ll mess up. It might be hard for you to find me in my darkest moments or for me to find you, but I know we will be reunited. I’ll find you because I have faith that everyone is connected. That I exist for a reason and so does every being in this Universe. That I am worthy of love.  I have faith that we are all at origin, good. And sometimes, we just need to be reminded of the light inside our souls.

So God, there’s my prayer.

I pray for love. I pray for health. I pray with overflowing gratitude. I pray for my family and friends. I pray for the animals in the forest , the damn seagulls on the beach and the pumpkins in their patches. I pray for children, hustling adults, and old, withering wise folks.  I pray to say I feel you in the sunshine and in my own smile.

I pray that I can forgive and be forgiven.

I pray that the world becomes a more fair, loving place.

I ask you to help us see the beauty in each other and ourselves.

I ask for the strength to be the best version of myself I can be. I pray to love with endless devotion, and to let go of my insecurities and reveal my strength. God I know that the light inside of me is warm, good, loving, and kind. I know it’s the same light in you and in

the stars. I know this light is in every, single, soul. God I believe it is  your light...and so, we are one.

Namaste, God

Sincerely,

Jennie

ASHRAM 101: What to Bring to a Sivananda Ashram!

What I thought to Bring:

1. Sarah, my long time friend.

2. A tent, flashlight, etc.

3. 10-15 different pairs of yoga pants/ shirts/ leggings

4. A tiny water bottle

5. Caffeinated tea in case of minor headaches

6. Large, bulky boots with laces

7. A yoga mat 

8. A sleeping bag

9. A journal

10. A book on 300 + Asanas

11. A readiness to Relax

In actuality; one should bring:

1. A friend, yes. This can be an emotional experience and it was very helpful to have a close friend to debrief all we were learning with.

2. A tent- but also a tarp! It rains a lot in the winter in Northern California! Also an umbrella, poncho...these things would have made life much drier!

3. A few pairs of yoga clothes, washing and hanging things out to dry is better than over packing and lacking space in your tent!

4. A large water bottle, and perhaps a travel mug for herbal teas. One cannot get enough herbal teas when you are washing out toxins from your body, eating such a pure diet, eliminating caffeine, and meditating frequently.  Caffeine quickly becomes unnecessary with a little determination, quality sleep, specific asanas, and other energy-enriched practices.

5. CLOGS! My strappy boots were a pain when you are required to practice cleanliness and remove shoes in every building, including outside bathrooms! You need something that slips on and off!

6. A yoga mat might seem obvious; but ashrams have so many, I would suggest using the extra packing space for something more useful like a quality sleeping pad. Quality sleep was essential to be in the right mind  set and to achieve continual patience required for learning and meditation.

7. A journal, or several, was a great idea. I wrote and learned more than I have in years, and even felt the need to write down conversations with other yogis along the way. In such an inspiring environment-  a place to record your amazing experience is essential. 

8. Books aren't necessary. Although I read a lot during my time on the ashram ; there was a library of beautiful yogi literature I didn't want to miss out on- as I could read my own books anytime. As far as a collection of asanas- 300 was too much. In the Sivananda practice, only 12 basic poses are practiced and easy to memorize quickly, especially with rapid repetition and practice. 

9. Relaxation...well.. yes, this is experience was relaxing. But a better attitude might be complete openness, humility,  a readiness to learn, possibly work hard and stretch mental and physical limits, and no matter what skill level you are at or where your practice is, the willingness to let go, surrender to your teachers, and look deeply inward. 

My happiness recipe.

Here's my HAPPINESS RECIPE & PLAN:
What's yours?

TO strive towards happiness, not as a goal but as part of your JOURNEY! Jennie Foley:

1.       Exercise often and in creative ways- Do yoga, walk, jog, bike, hike, DANCE, hula hoop, play basketball, Frisbee, Field Hockey? Roller Derby? Swimming, Zumba, CLIMB ROCKS!

2.       Eat healthy, foods that make you happy, light, guilt free! COOK!

3.       Quit smoking!

4.       Read more!

5.       Paint what you feel.

6.       Play the ukelele!

7.       Don’t get stuck in routines

8.       Always be down to make new friends.

9.       Love yourself / body

10.   Stop thinking about what you want to find or what you need, think about what you HAVE!

11.   Stop obsessing and fantasizing about people and things that aren't where you are. 

12.   Spend more time with friends and family, but also take time alone when you need it.

13.   LAUGH- as much as you can! Also, do LAUGHTER YOGA!

14.   MEDITATE

15.   Experiment, mix things up, create change, adapt.

16.   Wear whatever you want.

17.   Say what  need to say. Go where you need to go.

18.    SING, make music, play music, blast music.

19.   BE OPEN to learning.

20.   Be open to love, LOVE people, get to know them.
21. Practice kindness and compassion, on both a small and large scale. 

Search for INNER LIGHT! Both in yourself and in others.

I can attribute most of these discoveries to self-reflection and my new daily AM/PM yoga practice, but additionally, if it were not for the incredible people in my life, I would be nothing but entirely lost.

In the past few months…

I have learned more about who I am.

I have gotten better at deep, forward bends.

I can breathe deeper.

I can love more.

I know my desires, needs, and wants more than ever.

I am more comfortable with myself.

I do more sun salutations.

I treat people better.

I know that despite stereotypical hate, religious misreading, and media- my family will love me for whomever I am.

I know being gay is OK!!!

I know Maine is ready for gay marriage.

I know the best moments in life are spent with those you love.

I know I can control my own suffering and pain.

I know I can conquer anything.

I know I want nothing more than to help anyone in need.

I know I’m in need too.

And I know, it gets better.

Thanks, world ....

-J