Heather L. Barmore
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Heather Barmore
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    Change In Action at Babble Voices


    Please Call Me Bossy. I've Earned It. 

    "To free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves - there lies the great, singular power of self-respect."  ~Joan Didion


    I went through a terrible phase of being the weakest link. I was the girl who was teased and called names. I was too black or not black enough. I was chubby. I was the girl everyone disliked yet I continued to make overtures to please those who wanted for me to simply disappear. Offerings were made if only to get me a seat a certain table or to have a certain person utter three words to me. If there is one thing I remember from the mid-90’s it’s that being a perpetual people pleaser will bring you nothing but ridicule. There was a quick turnaround come high school when I decided to be mean, nasty, angry, sometimes menacing. For what exactly? To prove that I wasn’t someone for my peers to walk upon or to prove that I could be just as mean as the others.


    Thankfully, I’ve settled into a happy-ish place but it took until well into my 20’s to sincerely believe that expressing my opinion will not end in disaster. I’m aware of my limitations and abilities which allows me to speak up. Of course people think I’m scary, mean, bitchy and...wait for it...BOSSY. What I deem to be hard earned assertiveness, others took the wrong way. I am not going to stop talking simply because others are uncomfortable. Furthermore it took my entire life to grow a pair and get a backbone. Why on earth would I quit now?

    ‘Bossy’ is the word du jour thanks to Sheryl Sandberg who, when not running Facebook, is telling women how to feel and think in order to be taken seriously or to achieve her vision of success. Never mind the sheer awfulness of attempting to mold young women and girls into one’s own idea of what they should be though I have to wonder if I’m the only one who hears these stories and thinks ick.


    The word 'bossy' is now some sort of pejorative to describe and demean young women and girls. It's also something I haven't thought much about until today. Why can't we simply take back the word without a massive campaign to have ti removed from our lexicon? When someone points out that I'm intimidating (or anything synonymous to 'bossy'), I don't cower and question my behaviors. I smile because I am. I used to be the person who others ignored and it took everything out of me to attain some semblance of self-acceptance. I want to be someone who others listen to and I hope that if I ever have daughters, I am able to instill the same confidence in them. There are plenty of things preventing younger generations from leading, I disagree that being referred to as 'bossy' is one of those things. Instead teach your daughters (nieces/friends' kids) to say 'thank you'. If you are that child's parent, give yourself a pat on the back for doing such becuase you are soon to have a strong woman.





    Hi. How Are You?

    "Online writers: the most important thing we can do is to help people improve their lives by telling the stories of our own attempts." - Asha Dornfest

    I should be reading about how to harness my creativity. The tagline of The War of Art is “break through the blocks and win your inner creative battles”. You know what feels like a block? My head. God, that was terrible. I apologize. I am neither funny nor witty. But now you see where I am creatively. Or shall I say, “creatively”.

    Favorite Yoga Teacher likes to tell me how great of a writer I am. I’m not saying this for head pats or affirmation it’s just that every time anyone comments positively about my writing I get nervous. My heart begins to race, I might even be starting to sweat a bit. I cannot recite my exact reactions what with the unrelenting pressure I put on myself. Oh goodie! The pressure is followed up by the anxiety and now each tap of the keyboard feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest. I am going to have a panic attack due to writing five sentences. In case you were wondering, life? It’s going well. Can you tell? Don’t I seem so together?

    Anyway, I thank her - Favorite Yoga Teacher - and make a half-assed attempt to get out of my head. All I have ever wanted to do is write. If I had written a list at age 11 of things I wanted in my life it would have said: “1. Watch the State of the Union in-person, 2. Have a member of Congress learn my name” and then in giant bold letters, underlined nine times would be “3. WRITE”.


    Are you bored? If you aren’t just yet might I direct you to my archives? There is positively nothing more riveting than a reclusive 21 year old with an undiagnosed mental illness and an addiction to cheap pinot grigio, spewing her every thought on the Internet. At 30, I have the gift of hindsight and (more) self-awareness but my God, early 20-somethings are the most vapid and narcissistic bunch. Not only did I believe that I was the first person to ever graduate from college but the first person on the planet to ever get a job. And have to go to work. And deal with life and, you know, COPE.

    I can only shake my head and laugh now at the absurdity of my actions. I smirk because now I know that what I thought was the worst was nowhere near the worst. Every time I was only confident in my failing spectacularly with arms outstretched, I wasn’t. It was simply life.


    There are pages of an unfinished book proposal across a number of hard drives because I fear failure. I don’t do well with change and I second-guess every sentence as it comes across the screen. But that’s the whole point right? To use my words and own them. To develop, embrace, scream, tear up and cringe. Sometimes I feel like unable to breathe it’s imperative that I allow these feelings to come, to acknowledge them and then brush them aside. I can continue to note my reactions and feelings from the utter internal despair to the outward glee. Stories can and should be passed along knowing that what is true for me is not true for all involved.

    Apparently not everything is about me. Did you know that?


    I enjoy writing. Even at my worst I have been able to put out my best. Right now I am shaky and flinching because this stream of consciousness isn’t great. After months - OK, years - of deep suffering from FOMO, I have acknowledged that while I can put a paragraph together I will never be design blogger or a lifestyle blogger and at the rate I’m going “mommyblogger” isn’t looking too good either. Months have been lost trying to be something that I have never wanted to be. I don’t really want to be the leading resource on polka dots being the new stripes or 149 ways to use a mason jar. There are stories to tell that cause my heart rate to quicken not out of panic but out of the sheer anticipation of figuring out how to best tell the tale. That is who I am.

    Can we move on? I will write and post though not as frequently because I like beefy paragraphs and to let a sentence sit for a day or three before spinning it around on its head. I love Eden’s approach to blogging which is to do so sparingly, about once a month. If you are dying to know what I’m wearing or the color of my nail polish there is Instagram. There’s also Twitter and Facebook because WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT BOURBON. ALL BOURBON AND YOGA. AND YELLING! Tomorrow I’ll talk about politics. It will be good.


    I used a lot of “I” statements. I’m so rude. How have you been?

    How to Become a Yogi in 25 Easy Steps

    "I would like for people to realize that yoga is not about touching your toes. ~Gary Kraftsow"

    1. Decide to go to your first yoga class ever. Buy a mat, buy cute clothes that cover your ever expanding ass but show off your boobs because at least the weight is going somewhere besides your hips.


    2. Attend your first yoga class.


    3. Spend the entire hour hating everything including the yoga teacher you just met for the very first time. Hate your body, your belly, your inability to find downdog a “resting position” because EFF THAT NOISE.


    4. Try again because it probably was just the teacher or the space.


    5. Realize that you still really hate yoga but because everyone else is doing it then you should be doing it too, right? Right.


    6. Make four more attempts. Realize four more times that you hate everything about yoga. While everyone parrots back “Namaste” to the teacher, you resist the urge to throw up your middle finger.


    7. Another realization: you are an angry, bitter person. But that’s just you. Own it and be the brat that everyone is loathe to talk to. That’s totally going to get you far in life. (No, no. NO.)


    8. Hark! A new yoga studio? HOT YOGA? What is this?


    9. Wait a year to try it because remember, you HATE yoga.


    10. Step on the scale and take note that you are at your highest weight ever. You are miserable and sad and nothing is working. Your doctor prescribes more medication which works in its own chemical laden way but is that only helps with the brain what about the rest of the body? You look at yourself in the mirror and that only makes everything worse.


    11. Yoga? Sure. Fine. Let’s try this thing again.


    12. Go to your first hot yoga class. It’s 80 degrees and you manage not to die. Pat yourself on the back.


    13. Attend a few more classes taught by the owner of the studio. Admit to yourself that her soothing voice and excellent taste in music makes you feel better. She says that yoga is meant to be done at your own speed so focus on yourself and not on what others are doing. Remember that last part. You don’t know it yet but it will come in handy.


    14. Your initial trial period ends and you keep going anyway. Notice how you manage to live through multiple flows involving multiple downdogs and planks. Once again pat yourself on the back for not dying and note how much easier it is to reach your back.


    15. Notice that there is now a Bikram class being offered and so you read up on the popular method of yoga. You mostly do the reading so that you can tell people that while Bikram yoga is hot yoga, not all hot yoga is Bikram yoga. Make sure you say this in a really condescending manner because despite the yoga you can still be kind of a jerk. But it’s true.


    16. Go to Bikram. HOLY DEAR JESUS LORD IN HEAVEN IT IS HOT. What fresh hell is this? It’s so hot that the second you walk into the room every inch of your body begins to sweat. It’s 105 degrees with 40% humidity. During the first breathing exercise where all you do is practice breathing you notice that your upper lip, shoulders and back are already sweating. As you move through the first four postures a pool of sweat starts to form at your feet because IT IS HOT. SO HOT. As you get to the end of the standing series to the floor series you are thankful that it’s already over. How wonderful! And you’re not dead (yet). Oh but wait there’s more? Yes. There is more. There is an entire series on the floor. This isn’t some lovely savasana where you can close your eyes and get your om on. No, it’s a savasana where you are expected to work. EFF IT ALL. Silently curse the teacher (or guide). You hate her with a passion. Somewhere in the middle of the floor series a panic starts to set because you need to get the hell out of this hell. Somehow you endure. You don’t die (you will spend a lot of time thinking that this is how you’re going to die. Right here on this yoga mat. Don’t worry. You won’t).


    17. Sign up for another Bikram class. There are poses that leave you miserable and bring up aches and pains you didn’t know existed. Though your teacher/guide tells you not to pay attention to what others are doing you cannot help but notice how others can be in standing bow pose and not topple over. Meanwhile you can barely get your right ankle into your hand without falling into a heap. When you arrive at bow pose on the floor? Yeah right. You can only get to one ankle. You spend the entire minute wriggling to reach your other foot and then there is some sort of lifting mechanism. Yeah. Fucking. Right.


    18. This is where things get interesting: You can’t stop going to yoga. You want to resist and go back to your evening ritual of making it to the bar before $2 draft beers ends and yet you plan your life around evening yoga classes. You’re still embarrassed by your inability to stand upright and be like everyone else but and yet you go back over and over and over again because it feels so damn good.


    19. Tell your friends about hot yoga and Bikram. Talk about it endlessly. Your friends look at you like you’re insane because three to four times a week you willingly stand in 80 to 105 degree heat for fun.


    20. Yup. You are now having fun. You are enjoying yourself. You love every sweaty minute of it. You leave each class happy that you’ve not only managed to escape death once again but bit by bit, vertebrae by vertebrae you are feeling yourself getting stronger and able to dig deep and reach further. Remember how before you couldn’t reach your other foot in bow pose during the floor series? Remember when doing a downdog was a new form of torture? Remember when your butt didn’t reach your heels? Yeah. Now you can reach.


    21. Have the following conversation with friends and family:

    You: “I LOVE HOT YOGA! OMG!!!11!!!”

    Your friends/family: “You're nuts. That's how people DIE”

    You: “JOIN ME!!!111!!!”

    Your friends/family: “Girl. Bye”


    22. One day a random co-worker notices something...different. She can’t quite put her finger on it but comments on your appearance and general demeanor to another co-worker. She notes that you seem kinder and nicer. While that change is apparent you still struggle at the being nice all of the time/namaste/be chill thing because you are still human. But the approach is different. Remember back in those early days when your yoga teacher said to pay attention to what you’re doing on your own mat and not on whatever else is going on in the room and what others are doing/aren’t doing? You bring what you’ve learned while on your mat to your life off of the mat. You find yourself smiling because you have stopped worrying about what other people are doing. It’s not that you don’t care it’s just that you have to focus on you because that is the only thing you are able to change.


    23. Fast forward several months: You now have a favorite yoga teacher who you talk about all. the damn. time. You have a favorite spot in the room. You have a ritual. You can balance for a minute and when it’s a balmy 87 degrees outside you don’t mind because no one is screaming “BODY DOWN, LEG UP” at you while you teeter forward onto one leg in a balancing stick pose that is supposed to be good for the heart but again with the feeling like death because you’re planning your funeral as you pull your body apart (or as Favorite Yoga Teacher says, “PULL YOUR BODY APART”)


    24. “Take what you need and leave the rest” is another Favorite Yoga Teacher gem. One day you’re in your Bikram class and the panic that you haven’t felt in months starts to set. Your body tenses up as the heat gets heavy. You breathe deeper on your mat but seriously, this is it. This is the time that you’re going to die in yoga. All of those other incidences were just practice. This is not a drill. As much as you want to run out of the room forever, you focus on the ceiling and remember “take what you need and leave the rest”. You decide to take a break during the next few poses and that’s OK.


    25. Favorite Yoga Teacher tells you that you’re looking good in a certain pose. You scrunch up your face because that’s one that you hate the most and brings on the aches and pains. She tells you how strong you look as you become compact and balance. You thank her and remember another gem: “It’s always when you are ready to get out of the room or the pose when your practice really begins”. It’s always darkest before you see the light, it’s always when you want to give up that you find that you should push forward, it’s always at the end of the post when you pile on the cliches. All of this is true. You realize that yoga has changed everything for the better. You still have those imperfections and sometimes you want to bow down and namaste someone while kicking them in the baby maker. You are still you after all. But you are a different, stronger, more balanced person than you were 52 weeks ago.


    You take what you need, you focus on yourself and the rest? The rest is always there for another day.

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