Bringing The Happy Back World Tour

I spent a lot of years in active addiction, wearing yesterday's clothes and grime. When I first got clean, I did a lot of dressing up so that the outside looked good, in hopes that you wouldn't see past the facade to realize that the inside was a fucked-up, shitty mess.

Today my outside is more of a reflection of what's going on inside. I feel whole, I feel worthwhile, and I feel good, therefore I try to look good.

There's something to be said about the feel of a well-made cashmere sweater or pair of silk sweatpants, or even an uber-comfortable cotton t-shirt that fits like it was made for me. There's just something nice about wearing fancy pants and fancy shoes to go grocery shopping. I lived too long in the filth and desperation of addiction to deny myself some little luxuries today. 

Now, looking good doesn't have to be expensive. Yes, I wear a lot of high-end brands because I'm worth it, but here's a secret--I never pay full price. There is something thrilling about finding a pair of Armani pants on a clearance rack for $25 (yes, it happens). Must be endorphins, because it's quite pleasant like a good buzz.

I digress.

Well, today I am riding one serious endorphin-based high. I got new shoes. Not just any new shoes. Jimmy Choo shoes. Nude patent leather sandals on cork platform wedges. Brand New In Box. For $85. And? They feel really good on my feet--great arch support, heel and ball of foot cushioning, and light as feathers. My first pair of Jimmy Choo shoes!

Tell me that's not a dose of happy.

You wouldn't know it to look at me now, but I used to be a runner.

Not a very good one, mind you.

Back in 2007 I was living in Wisconsin and training for the Danskin Women's Triathlon. Yes, despite my fear of putting my face into the water, and fears of falling over on a bike, I found myself training for the damn thing.

And liking it.

Okay, so maybe I was more comfortable on the bikes we used for spinning class. And maybe I could only swim a half mile on my back wearing goggles and a nose clip. You'd be right.

But the point is that I was trying - and succeeding - in my own way.

The one thing I didn't need accommodation for was the running. Initially it was the part I hated most about training. Quickly, running became my favorite thing. The treadmill bored me to death so I ran on the bumpy, uneven indoor track where the cold air made my lungs burn pleasantly.

I started by running half a mile, congratulating myself afterward. Little by little, I worked my way up to three miles, then four. Before I knew it, I was running four miles most days in addition to swimming and spinning. I couldn't believe I was actually running, but I was.

I was never a very fast runner - my best time for a 5K hovered around 30 minutes - but I loved it. Even when the routes took me out to the lighthouse where my hair whipped my cheeks like crazy, or to the Shamrock Shuffle in Madison where there was still snow on the streets, I loved every minute.

I miss that now.

Living in Chicago, I spent all my time walking to and from places so I gradually stopped running. I missed running, but there just never seemed to be any time. Also, part of me thought that if I was going to be outside moving around, I should go do something productive, like walk to the store and drag back a 35-pound tub of cat litter.

(Unless the cat litter in question was on sale, then I borrowed a friend's car because I'm a cat lady and we can never resist buying seven or eight tubs when they're cheap.)

This year, I decided to stop missing running. I'm doing the Couch to 5K running plan, and so far it's kicking my chubby butt. The treadmill is incredibly dull and my cardiovascular stamina is very low, but I keep after it because I want to feel the way I did back then.

Confident.

Powerful.

Strong.

I'm going to run a 5K this year.

I'm going to make it across the finish line and I'm going to raise my arms above my head and say with what air is left in my lungs that I did it. For myself and for Misty, gone far too soon, who inspired me to take back that feeling.

Thanks, Misty.

February is all about The Happy.

We here at Band Back Together know that winter and the holidays can feel overwhelming, The Depression starts rearing its ugly head.

We're saying goodbye to depression and hello to Project Happy.

So, The Band, what makes you happy?

What brings a smile to your face? Is it a memory? The thought of the future? The brilliance of a sunset? We want to know!

Last summer, Mr. E went outside and I caught a whiff of the air on the porch. It smelled like rain, which means that six drops probably hit someone's windshield and the weatherman as calling it the storm of the century. My olfactory memories kicked into high gear and the next thing I knew I was awash in the relatively distant past and thinking about camp.

SUMMER CAMP!

For four or five years when I was a wee'un, I went to Camp El Tesoro. Those were some of the best times of my life.

When I was very wee, I was allowed to be out of the house for several hours a day via Camp Fire's day camp program. It was fun, I earned beads and patches that I then sewed on my little red vest. When I reached fourth or fifth grade, I was able to go to El Tesoro, the overnight camp for two sessions a year.

If it hadn't been for summer band camp, I would have happily continued until 11th grade, at which time I would have become a Counselor in Training and taken all kinds of shit from campers. I might have gone to school in North Texas and been a counselor until I graduated.

Thinking back, I wish I had.

You see, I don't have bad memories from summer camp.

Everything I remember fondly: drinking gallons of Kool-Aid, singing camp songs as the sun went down, the cicadas outside, being certain I had poison oak (they were mosquito bites).

I remember all the buildings; the Health House where I laid down with migraines, the main lodge where we all ate and sang and had our talent show, the screened cabins where I started my camp career, the larger cabin that was the venue for my middle school Rocky Horror Picture Show medley. The Horizon Lodge where I spent my last summer before I entered high school. The building we used for arts and crafts, the stables, the camp store, everything.

And judging from recent photos of the camp, not much has changed.

I did things at camp I would never be able, allowed to do at home. Horseback riding, canoeing, and learning to take and develop my own photographs. As blurry as those black and whites were, I was so proud of them. I made beaded bracelets that looked like daisy chains, learned riddles, and tried to learn to swim.

Unsuccessfully.

Memories just keep coming.

Getting letters from Big D, shopping at the camp store, wearing my Campfire vest with its beads and badges at the closing ceremony, telling the younger kids that someone had drowned in the deep end of the pool by the lodge because it was a story we all heard as younger campers.

I remember having a crush on one of the counselors when I was in 8th grade, becoming a vegetarian for part of the summer after talking to one of the counselors, keeping some of the other kids from teasing my special-needs friends, swearing I saw ghosts. The smell of the ear drops they used to keep us from getting swimmer's ear - we all had to stand in line to get them after we got out of the pool.

And on the rare occasions when Texas allowed it to rain, it smelled just like it did outside this summer. That smell, humidity and earth and the very slight coolness that accompanies it, sends me back to the trails between our cabin and the main lodge every time.

Sometimes I dream about camp.

Not as a kid going to camp - more like driving to the front gates just to get out and walk around and remember. I wonder if they allow tours for alumni, or if they would allow an old lady like me to be a counselor.

Then I remember that time's gone.

This was the bridge that separated the real world from our world at camp.

To many, it just looks like a bridge joining the parking lot to the main camp but, even now, it looks like a bridge to another world to me.

Dreams.

We all have them. Some dreams are as simple as getting a full night's sleep or getting an extra twenty minutes in at the gym. Others are more complicated - going back to school, making partner at your firm, taking that dream cruise through Alaska.

But we all have them. Sometimes, our dreams are what keep us going through the very darkest of times.

So what are your dreams, The Band? What will you do one day?

There are so many places in this world I want to see. So many dreams I have of hopping on a plane to a random destination and opening my eyes to a whole new way of life.

Recently The Band lost a very special person, a dear friend and incredible Band Mate, our friend Misty. I so want to travel the world and carry Misty with me in my heart.

So, some of the places I'm going to go ... or at least I want to go to are ...

* Barcelona

I've been to Spain, but all I've ever heard is how amazing Barcelona is. Plus, my Spanish is way too rusty!

* Israel

My dad spent many years there as a child and one day - I mean it - I'm gonna get there. I just have to. It's in my soul.

* The Top of the Statue of Liberty

Yes, I grew up in New York. In Brooklyn, right outside of the city. I even lived in the city (for non NYCers, Manhattan is what I mean, obviously!) but I never made it up there. It's closed now, I think, so maybe it'll reopen someday and I'll get my chance. 

* Each and every one of the United States. 

I've got a pretty good batch of them crossed off already. But I've never been to places like Colorado or Vermont, or Washington state. 

* Specifically, Seattle.

I don't know why, I've just always wanted to go there. 

* New Orleans

I'm working on this and have plans to attend a conference there in October. Fingers crossed!

* Ireland

I've been, but I would love to go with my husband. It's beautiful there. And green. Very green. 

* London

Been there, too, but I'd like to take my daughter someday. And my mom. She's never been outside the US and I SO want to make that happen somehow.

And speaking of Mom, she's also never been to ...

* Disney World. 

And she has to go. At least once. 

Or

* Washington, DC

And I promised her a trip there a long time ago. I need to pay up. 

* Costa Rica

Ziplining in Costa Rica is a real thing. I could cross two things off of my life list at once!

So there you have it, one day I'll travel the world. Or maybe I'll conquer it a little bit at a time. It's not easy to make and act on such great plans, but it's wonderful to dream about them. 

So, Misty, I dream for you, too.

One Day I'm Gonna ... and I'll thank you for the inspiration. 

Dreams.

We all have them. Some dreams are as simple as getting a full night's sleep or getting an extra twenty minutes in at the gym. Others are more complicated - going back to school, making partner at your firm, taking that dream cruise through Alaska.

But we all have them. Sometimes, our dreams are what keep us going through the very darkest of times.

So what are your dreams, The Band? What will you do one day?

I have a lot of fear.

Fear of failure. Fear of not living up to others expectations. Fear of not being enough. Fear of embarrassment. I let those fears hold me back from doing so many things. 

I am tired of letting fear dictate my life. 

This will be my year of action. I am going to confront some of those fears and make changes in my life. No more waiting and holding back.

I want to be me.

I want to go after my dreams.

I want to make a difference in this world.

I want to truly live.

Who's with me?