personal stories

For many years I wore a string of prayer beads on my left wrist, to act as a reminder of the important and powerful practice of gratitude.  There were 27 beads and each morning upon awakening, I would touch a bead and be grateful for something -- my kids, my health, the antics of our small zoo of animals.   Most mornings the first dozen things would come easily, but often the last ten were more of a stretch -- chocolate, cappuccino, my silk dressing robe.   It always, always felt good to start my day reflecting upon abundance.

I want to be kind, I really do. Kindness matters, I know this, I coach this, I speak about the power of kindness, and yet – yes there is a yet. In my primary relationship with my husband, being kind seems to be in a wrestling match with being right. Being right just feels so good. It is a lustful emotion, an instinctual one, a need that can be an addictive one. It goes a little bit like this. My husband is opening every kitchen drawer in search of the cheese slicer and as he opens the bottom drawer and finds the slicer, he jumps up and bangs his head on the top drawer.

Four years ago, I shared my struggles with anorexia and disordered eating by writing a book, Unsinkable. Journalists in the following weeks expressed disappointment that another athlete had an eating disorder. They had held me up as a strong woman who went after her dreams, and suddenly I was sharing one of my weaknesses.

As we race breathlessly through January, energized by our resolutions, we may find ourselves sliding rather rapidly into February. Where did the month go? More importantly where are we in relation to all those resolutions? You know, the fitness programme, the commitment to eat no sugar, the giant wall of sticky notes promising more productivity. 

I want to be kind, I really do. Kindness matters, I know this, I coach this, I speak about the power of kindness, and yet -- yes, and yet.

In my primary relationship (you know, that relationship with my husband), being kind seems to be in a wrestling match with being right. Being right just feels so good. It is a lustful emotion, an instinctual one, a need that can be sort of addiction.