First Impressions: How Posture Speaks Before We Do
The first step to change is to change your first step.
The moment someone walks into a room, before a single word is spoken, we already know something about them. How? Posture.
Our brains process body language in milliseconds—assessing confidence, emotional state, safety, and even potential danger. This isn’t just social intuition; it’s neurological survival. The nervous system is constantly scanning, adjusting, and reading the silent signals of movement and stance.
What Posture Communicates at First Glance
Before we even think about words, our posture conveys:
Confidence vs. Submission (expansive chest vs. hunched shoulders)
Openness vs. Defense (relaxed stance vs. crossed arms)
Vitality vs. Fatigue (upright energy vs. slumped weight)
Safety vs. Threat (fluid movement vs. rigid stance)
This rapid analysis happens through a multi-sensory process—our eyes track alignment, our gut registers movement patterns, our nervous system reacts before logic kicks in.
Postural Assessment: What Does Your Body Say?
Take a moment to assess your posture in a mirror or ask a friend for feedback. Look for these key indicators:
Head Position: Is your head upright or tilted forward?
Shoulders: Are they rounded forward or pulled back?
Spine: Is your back straight or slouched?
Weight Distribution: Are you evenly balanced or leaning to one side?
Arms: Are they relaxed or crossed defensively?
Quick Questionnaire: What Does Your Posture Communicate?
Posture isn’t static—it’s a spectrum that shifts throughout the day, reflecting your emotions, intentions, and circumstances. Answer these questions to explore the range of signals your posture might be sending.
1. When you stand in a group, how do you typically position your arms?
☐ Crossed over your chest
☐ Relaxed at your sides
☐ Hands on your hips
☐ Fidgeting or holding an object
→ What it means: Crossed arms can signal defensiveness, relaxed arms show openness, hands on hips suggest confidence, and fidgeting may indicate nervousness.
2. How do you hold your head when walking into a room?
☐ Chin up, looking straight ahead
☐ Chin slightly down, avoiding eye contact
☐ Tilting your head to one side
☐ Looking around quickly, scanning the room
→ What it means: A chin-up position conveys confidence, a lowered chin may suggest shyness, and scanning the room can indicate alertness or nervousness.
3. What is your typical stance when standing still?
☐ Feet close together, weight on one leg
☐ Feet shoulder-width apart, evenly balanced
☐ Leaning against a wall or object
☐ Shifting weight frequently between legs
→ What it means: A balanced stance signals stability, close feet may suggest insecurity, and frequent shifting can indicate restlessness.
4. How do you typically hold your shoulders?
☐ Pulled back and relaxed
☐ Rounded forward
☐ Lifted up toward your ears
☐ One shoulder higher than the other
→ What it means: Relaxed shoulders pulled back convey confidence and openness. Rounded shoulders may indicate stress or fatigue, while lifted shoulders suggest tension.
5. When sitting, how do you usually position your body?
☐ Leaning forward with elbows on the table
☐ Sitting upright with feet flat on the floor
☐ Slouching back in the chair
☐ Crossing your legs tightly
→ What it means: Sitting upright with feet flat on the floor conveys attentiveness and confidence. Leaning forward can show engagement but may also seem intense, while slouching suggests disinterest.
Reclaiming Your Posture & Presence
Since posture shapes perception, it’s worth using it intentionally—not just for impressions, but for overall well-being.
Here’s how:
Ground yourself: Stand tall, feet planted, breath steady.
Open up: Uncross arms, widen stance, release tension in jaw and shoulders.
Breathe deeper: Shallow breathing tightens the body, deep breath expands it.
Move with awareness: Fluid movement signals confidence and ease.
Taking Control: Own Your Posture, Own Your Presence
Your posture is more than just how you stand—it’s how you show up in the world. Make sure you are showing UP and not down. It’s your unspoken introduction, the energy you radiate before a single word leaves your lips. And whether you realize it or not, it’s communicating something to everyone around you.
So what message are you sending? Confidence? Strength? Openness? Or maybe hesitation, retreat, or uncertainty?
Here’s the truth:
You are being judged at first glance. But to be fair, you’re constantly judging everyone and everything around you as well. It’s human nature—an instinct, a survival mechanism, a subconscious way to assess and respond. And while you can’t control how others interpret you, you can control what you project.
Start Communicating Through Your Posture—Right Now.
1. Check In: Where’s your head? Your shoulders? Your stance? The first step is awareness.
2. Ground Yourself: Stand tall, distribute weight evenly, and breathe deep. Stability breeds presence.
3. Expand: Open your chest, unshrink yourself. The world responds to space, not contraction.
4. Stay Fluid: Tension is readable. Ease in movement signals confidence and comfort.
5. Align With Your Core Values: If posture is a reflection of you, then let it be intentional.
This isn’t just about standing taller—it’s about moving with purpose. About embodying the energy you want to project.
Your posture is your signature. Own it. Claim it. Practice makes permanent. Repetition makes habit.
‼️Disclaimer: Touch Aversion
When meeting people, remember that touch isn’t universally welcomed. While a handshake or a friendly pat on the back might seem like second nature, for some, physical contact can feel intrusive, uncomfortable, or overwhelming.
Social cues aren’t one-size-fits-all, and true connection starts with respecting boundaries. Tune into body language, honor personal space, and recognize that presence alone—without touch—can communicate just as much warmth and intention.
If your body takes the shape of the position you are in most of the time, then so would the mind.
The Shape We Hold: How Our Body Molds Our Mind—and How Our Mind Molds Our Body
Ever notice how life physically presses us into shapes? Stress tightens shoulders, folding us inward. Confidence stretches the ribs, lifts the chin, takes up space like it belongs there. And exhaustion? That one turns the spine into something vaguely resembling a neglected Slinky.
But here’s the kicker: Our body isn’t just reacting to life—it’s narrating it.
The positions we hold most often become the stories we tell—physically, mentally, emotionally. The slouch of self-doubt, the collapsed chest of defeat, the curled-in posture of hesitation—all reinforcing, repeating, locking in place. But here’s the plot twist: It works both ways.
Straighten the spine, and suddenly the breath is deeper.
Expand the chest, and confidence inches forward.
Shift the stance, and somehow, the mind follows suit.
And then there’s the fascinating phenomenon of shape shifting—the unconscious ways we adapt to the spaces we inhabit and the people we’re near. Ever notice how, mid-conversation, you subtly start mirroring someone's arm position? Or how a single deep inhale from a teacher can remind a whole room to breathe?
We all have a little chameleon in us—our brains rapidly process and learn through all senses, absorbing the world in real time (and even slightly in the past as we gather and interpret information). Studies show that mirror neurons play a crucial role in imitation and empathy, helping us absorb and replicate behaviors subconsciously.
We instinctively mirror body language and behaviors, embedding ourselves in observation and communication. Facial mimicry has been linked to emotional contagion, reinforcing the idea that we tune into and reflect the emotions of those around us. It’s not just yawning that’s contagious; the more empathetic we are, the more signals we tune into, pick up on, and—before we even realize it—subconsciously replicate.
That’s because movement is contagious. We don’t just hold shapes—we absorb them. The way we carry ourselves, the way we breathe, the posture we settle into isn’t just ours—it’s influenced, mirrored, passed along.
So if the shape we hold determines the way we feel, then what are we unconsciously absorbing? And more importantly—how can we shape the spaces around us to reinforce strength, curiosity, and openness instead of rigidity and depletion?
Let’s take up space like we mean it.
UP LIFT: Be the Person Who Starts the Shape-Shifting
Everything starts somewhere. A ripple in a pond. A first step forward. A single lifted breath.
And here’s the thing—we’re not just shaped by what we hold within us. We’re shaped by what we offer to those around us.
A smile shifts the energy in a room.
An open posture invites connection.
A single deep breath reminds others to breathe.
This isn’t just physical movement. It’s social movement. Emotional movement. UP LIFT is resistance—the refusal to shrink under stress, to cave inward, to let gravity pull us into stagnation. UP LIFT is momentum—expanding, unfolding, encouraging.
What if we became the person who started the shape shifting?
What if, through movement, through presence, through intention—we lifted each other up?
This month, Summit Some Ain’t isn’t just about personal transformation. It’s about shaping the space around us. UP LIFT is contagious—so let’s start the shift.
Everything at the Core: Movement, Healing & Nourishment
Some things in life feel separate at first—disjointed, compartmentalized, categorized into bullet points. Walking. Core. Nutrition. Hydration.
But here’s what I’ve learned—not just through study, but through experience: these things were NEVER separate.
Walking: How Movement Became My Lifeline
Walking was how I coped with the divorce era. It was never just about exercise—it was about processing, breathing, taking steps forward when life felt uncertain.
Movement became communication. Sometimes with myself, sometimes with friends navigating their own hardships. Walking and running outdoors was—and still is—sustaining. It’s a rhythm, a way to reset the mind while feeding the body.
That’s why walking is a pillar of this July Challenge—it’s not just movement, it’s a tool for navigating life.
Core: Healing First, Then Strength
It took me a decade after having kids to truly understand how to heal my pelvic floor, restore my deep core, and repair my gut health.
And once I did? It was rapid fire—the abs, definition, and strength you see today were built on a foundation of healing.
I CANNOT SAY IT ENOUGH: You cannot build on top of trauma, dysfunction, or injury. Heal, then build.
This goes hand in hand with…
Nutrition & Hydration: Fueling the Core Inside & Out
The gut is very much part of the core. What we put inside our bodies 100% affects what’s reflected in the mirror—it influences:
💡 Skin, hair, and senses
💡 Mood, energy, and sleep
💡 Digestion, cognitive function, and overall vitality
Hydration is non-negotiable—we are 60% water, and everything flows through that sustenance. From our tissues to our brain power, how we hydrate directly impacts our ability to move, recover, and thrive.
Stepping Away & Stepping Into Creativity
A year ago, I made the decision to step away from alcohol completely—and two months ago, I took a break from social media.
Not because I was disappearing—but because I was stepping deeper into my work. I’ve been channeling more energy into creating, refining, and offering the most badass trainings and classes than ever before.
I’m still here, and I’m more inspired than ever. The space I’ve created for clarity and creativity has allowed SUMMIT SOME AIN’T, UPSIDE DOWN, YouTube, and my website to evolve in new, powerful ways—without distraction, with full intention.
Yoga Medicine: Where Movement Meets Wisdom
Another exciting piece of this journey—I'll be crafting more classes for Yoga Medicine!
This work is something I truly believe in. Movement and cognition were never separate—our ability to think, process, and adapt is deeply shaped by how we move, breathe, and engage with the body.
Yoga isn’t just physical—it’s neurological. It's about rewiring how we move, feel, and understand ourselves in the moments of challenge, transition, and deep presence.
Conclusion: It’s ALL Connected
We try to separate these elements—we give them categories and bullet points. But the gut is part of the core, is part of our happiness, is part of our energy.
Movement is part of our appetite, is part of our gut, is part of our composition, is part of our cognition.
Your brain is more positively affected by movement than anything else you can do (or don’t do).
Your hydration is part of your skin, tissues, and brain power.
Everything is connected—to the core, around the core, at the core. Everything in the periphery is fed inward, and everything within feeds outward.
Join the July Challenge
This month, we focus on walking, core, nutrition, and hydration—not as separate elements, but as a complete system that supports every layer of well-being.
🚀 Join The July Challenge inside Summit Some Ain’t
📢 Let’s move, heal, and thrive—together.
GesunTIGHT! Your Pelvic Floor is Calling—Time to Take Your Power Back!
Yo Mama! This one is for YOU. The new HEY MA WASSUP section of the website is a “plethOURA” of resources for women and moms.
Make it stand out
📞 Hey Ma, Wassup? Your core called… It said you got disconnected—but it would really like to get together sometime and reconnect.
Gesundheit!
💡Fun Fact: Gesundheit literally means “health”; it was formed by a combination of gesund ("healthy") and -heit ("-hood").
If you ask me that stands for HEALTHY motherHOOD!
Let’s be real—your body has been through some things. It’s carried life, endured sleepless nights, lifted tiny humans (the one-handed life), and somehow still keeps going.
But here’s the wild part: You don’t have to just “deal” with feeling drained, achy, or disconnected from your body. You do not have to accept that this is just life after kids…we are just going to pee every time we sneeze now! Instead of saying gesundheit let’s say gesun…TIGHT. That’s right, the pelvic floor is taking its POWER BACK!
Knowledge Bombs That’ll Make You Say “Whoa”
💡 Your gut and brain are in constant conversation.
Ever had a “gut feeling”? That’s because your gut has its own nervous system, sending signals to your brain all the time. This gut-brain axis affects everything—your mood, energy, digestion, and even motivation.
💡 Exercise literally changes your gut microbiome.
Moderate movement increases microbial diversity, which helps digestion, reduces inflammation, and even supports mental clarity. A strong gut means a strong brain, and a strong brain means you feel unstoppable.
💡 Straighten before you strengthen.
Your body takes the shape of the positions you hold the most. If you slouch, your muscles adapt. If you lean, your core compensates. Before strength comes alignment—when your body is positioned well, it functions better and builds strength the right way.
💡 Your core is connected to your mood.
Your deep core muscles—including your diaphragm—are directly linked to your nervous system. When your core is weak or misaligned, it can affect your breathing, stress levels, and even anxiety. Strengthening it can literally help you feel calmer and more energized.
💡 Your posture and gut health affect your confidence.
Standing tall with a strong core and lifted posture can boost mood and self-esteem. Plus, a healthy gut microbiome supports serotonin production—the “feel-good” neurotransmitter.
💡 Your body is designed to heal and thrive.
Movement isn’t just about fitness—it’s about reclaiming your energy, confidence, and longevity. When you move with intention, your body responds by giving you more energy, better digestion, and even improved sleep.
You are not just a mom. You are a force. A leader. A powerhouse. And when you take care of yourself, you set the tone for everything else in your life. Healing your core, strengthening your body, and reclaiming your movement—it’s not selfish. It’s necessary.
Ready to flip the script? Dive into Hey Ma Wassup—a space built for moms and women who refuse to settle. Let’s heal, build, and rise together.
Laugh Your Abs Off—Because Laughter Is a Core Workout!
Did you know laughing engages your diaphragm, deep core muscles, and even boosts circulation? It’s basically an ab workout disguised as joy. So go ahead—laugh a little louder, because every giggle is a step toward stronger abs and a happier gut!
😂 “It’s spicy” is the universal mom code for “I don’t want to share.”
😂 Good moms let their kids lick the beaters. Great moms turn them off first.
😂 Motherhood is like a fairy tale in reverse—you start in a ball gown and end up in stained yoga pants.
💡 Pro tip: Add these to your Mom Joke Bag—because strong cores and strong punchlines go hand in hand!
What’s Behind a Sunrise Post?
Moments before…
What’s behind a sunrise post?
It has taken me 11 years to tell this story. It is a tragedy.
It starts on Maui at our home, built on a sand dune just enough streets up to be out of the tsunami insurance zone and to have a 180-degree ocean view. One of our first nights sleeping in our first and only home we have ever owned we woke up startled by repeated loud slapping noises. After a cautious investigation around the dark corners of the house we made our way to the backyard where the moon was dancing on the water. We heard the loud slapping again but this time we could see the culprit. A humpback whale slapping its tail, playing in our paradise.
Because the ocean was yard side, after many failed attempts I realized the windy salty air was no environment for a garden. So I took it to the driveway side of the house and we built boxed beds on the sloped pavement. The houses next door were so close together that my neighbor and I could do a middle school slow dance at the border aka arms distance away.
One sunny morning as I was watering my driveway garden my neighbor unexpectedly and enthusiastically (and that was why it was unexpected – because he rarely made eye contact and never conversation) said, “Hey Holly! Look I was inspired by your garden and made my own box bed!”
Shortly thereafter, my husband was heading to Aspen, Colorado for a job at length. The employer put us up in our own condo, which was mostly for my six-month pregnant self and two-year-old because on these jobs, my husband worked non-stop. We stayed in Colorado for a few weeks, then flew home.
Our first morning back from Aspen, up early per usual with my toddler and growing belly I was excited to go watch the sunrise over the ocean from our windward paradise. Sitting on a bench close to my neighbors fence I felt so happy staring at this beautiful land and my beautiful son playing in the colors of the new day.
I took a photo.
I posted it to Instagram.
It said “Happy to be home to another beautiful sunrise.”
I hit post and then our little world exploded.
READ THE REST OF THIS BLA BLA BLOG POST WITHIN THE PORTAL (member’s only).
How It’s Going
They say don’t bite the hand that feeds you. But I say my feed is what truly bit. It has been one month since I quietly cleared my figurative desk, grabbed my backpack and casually exited the gram.
The Good: All of that time I spent 1) absorbing news 2) creating content 3) trying to connect 4) sharing intimate moments of my life 5) straight up marketing for my online yoga school and workshop - all of that time I channeled into my website. One of the things I loved about the gram was creating. So, I didn’t stop. I just put it somewhere really productive. I created “The Portal,” a member’s only $5 site within my website. It already has over 200 videos within it. I created a video podcast “I Spent My 30’s on Instagram,” to document what it was like and some of the shit that went down behind upside down footage. And I picked up an in person managing position in town!
The Unexpected: I stopped whipping my phone out to document most things. I started seeing a different reflection in the mirror. I more worthy one. I heard from one of those connections I had made from the early gram days and I’d lost touch with because she chose to leave the gram in 2020. We’ve reconnected like pen pals and she is the first person to join The Portal! She joined for the entire year, so I’m even more inspired to make amazing content for this yoga medicine teacher.
The Sweaty: It is a little stressful that I have had zero new online yoga teacher training students, BUT I am still teaching quite a few at the moment so I will exercise patience. The Portal hasn’t really been explored yet, but again, patience grasshopper…you’re in the big open field now. These things are stressful like suddenly getting laid off, however, it’s in a new and exciting way because you know this pivotal moment will be the best thing for you and your future.
The New: Managing for a business in town is brand new! Something I would never have felt I could fit into my life until I shifted the dynamic. It’s that in person interaction and a set of responsibilities that I feel I can excel at. Grad school is around the corner and I attend orientation this evening. I guess when I cleared my desk and grabbed my backpack and walked out the door of Instagram I immediately entered a new more hopeful room of learning and career potential.
The Ugly: This part is why it was all fake anyways. The people I thought were connections, friends, or students (beyond the free stuff)…well, it’s been all crickets for this grasshopper. That’s part of why I made my video podcast part of The Portal. By episode five I’m sharing pretty personal and intense things I navigated through while having my life open to the public on the gram. I’m not putting myself back in a fishbowl while everyone else stares from outside. You have to dive in here with me!
The Future: Is a gift. It is not granted. A lot of the times we stay in our lane to avoid the scary instability and unknown conclusion of change. But that is scarier than anything else if you ask me! I’m scared of a boring, predictable life where the one thing you can count on is aging exponentially. I do not simply want to through the paces of life. I want to FEEL ALIVE…whether that is feel peace, feeling joy, feeling scared of the unknown. I want to feel this life and not drown it out.
Let’s do this thing…
Off to work, then to other work, and a quick workout, then to school orientation and of course my favorite part when the kids are out of school, motherhood.
I Quit You!
I quit social media like I quit alcohol
A dark, but necessary venting session to detox and cleanse after a decade of using.
Social media is alcohol. Marketed pretty poison. Addictive and soul sucking. It makes you think you need it and that you can’t socialize without it. It promises success if you hold its hand or rather, it in your hand always. It is a façade. It makes you swim through the weeds to arrive on an empty shore. Forcing you to view whatever it wants along the way. Sometimes you regret what you said or did when you were “on it” triggering self-deprecation and deleting what others deemed not good enough. It traps you into being the jester of its courts. Entertaining the royalty that have their way, depleting their community of value, time, and free thought at any price. Demanding you pay taxes to the king as you beg for food. It is a trap. Come here my pretty it taunts. Who is holding the strings? Making you dance? Who is reaping the benefits as you fall down the rabbit hole? Voices telling you what to think, what to do, how to look as you plummet deeper and deeper. A vast darkness consuming anyone it can lure into its depths. Laughter along the way as you bang your head against the fishbowl you put yourself inside of. Popcorn spraying from rotten teeth, cackling mouths, and pointing fingers as they watch you fall into darkness. It is an apocalypse and virus. And in this way, we feed the monster our own minds.
Dial Tone
It wasn’t one thing. It was the final straw. Perhaps I was waiting on pins and needles for that final straw as well. Maybe because I had felt like a needle in a haystack for quite some time. I’m in the business of balance. When you spend time, energy, education and resources to share information and the response is hundreds of saves but only two comments with one about the lighting…that’s a lot of take and very little give. There is no reciprocity. That is imbalance. And I’m in the business of correcting imbalances.
It doesn’t feel like it matters enough anymore. It takes so much more than it gives now. The community is mostly silent. The connections are dial tones. The feed is like the fuzz on a TV after the show has long ended (90’s child).
I really do not want to keep up with the latest hook. I have always been passion driven. Passion fuels my posts. Passion was enough to form and grow a community. My love of the human body, learning and teaching. My love of motherhood and the outdoors. And even sometimes the hard times…those felt like walking a tightrope above a canyon. Carefully placed steps, sometimes I lost my balance and started dramatically wavering side to side. I always came back with beads of sweat and steady breath to keep walking that thin line until I got to the other side.
And though it was personal and I put myself out there it was okay because I thought ultimately it was good. Sometimes I tried to stand up for things. Things I thought were right, like a truly eco and ethical company from the fibers. Sometimes it was to stand up for mistreatment of others. I gave a few people a nudge when I had the power to do so, just because. I always tried to use my reach to support my friends whenever I thought it would help. I grew a thick skin at times to the online bullies…but the truth is I prefer the ones that troll to your face versus “friends” that chatter behind your back.
But now I feel like friends are the least likely to speak up and reach out. Some family chooses to avoid me on social media as a statement.
A lot of the community wants pure crafted entertainment, not connection and growth. I won’t let such a big window to the world leave me behind my small one feeling so empty. There is no point if there is no reciprocity.
It’s all about balance. It always was. If the water is only ever running out and never being filled back up, the well runs dry.
It’s time to close the curtains for a while. Put my passion in the drivers seat of a different vehicle. I don’t know what that will look like yet. It starts here. My website, this will be my corner of the web for now. The crickets are chirping here as well, but at least it is my home…page.
Forever seeking homeostasis,
Holly aka @upsidedownmama
My Mother's Daughter
My mother was a teacher. My sister is a teacher. My aunts are teachers. My grandmother was an employee of the University of Washington for 23 years. Teaching might just be in my DNA and that took me a long time to accept. As much as I craved to walk in my mother’s footsteps, I have also made it a life mission to avoid her path completely.
How ironic it is that I am fully committing to becoming a teacher at the age she was taken from me in a portable classroom while teaching my class.
Though I have been a Yoga Teacher for over a decade, I have never committed to consistently teaching inside of a studio. Instead, I will visit studios to teach workshops, teach at retreats, teach online and via different platforms and create books and programs to use as teaching mediums (books, programs, app). Committing to consistently being inside the same room to teach I naturally avoided. I now teach teachers online, providing them an at home way to receive their Yoga Teacher certification (The Yoga Teacher Training).
With a bachelor’s degree and over 1,000 hours of teaching certificates in yoga, health, fitness, and wellness, plus a few years under my belt as a basketball coach for youth…the inevitable next step surprisingly seems healing more than daunting. So, with a deep breath, I take a step down my mother’s path as I pursue my master’s degree in education.
My mother was 41 years old and my preschool teacher when Sudden Cardiac Arrest would take her life before my very eyes for no apparent reason in an isolated location where she was the only adult. Not only did this leave me without a mother that I spent every single second of my 4-year-old life with, but it left me with a lifetime of trauma and clinical PTSD to cope with. As I write this at the age her life was taken, I realize how young she still was.
Perhaps I am not walking down her same path as much as picking up where she left off.
I do practice what I preach or more accurately practice what I TEACH - when I tell my students that we are sometimes the teacher but ALWAYS the student. I am also currently taking Yoga Medicine’s Trauma Informed teacher training in pursuit of my 1,000 hours with Yoga Medicine alone and to maintain my Yoga Medicine Therapeutic Specialist license. I look forward to bringing more classes to you via the Yoga Medicine Online platform this winter as well.
Do not back burner life. Live it. The time is RIGHT now.
Rough Waters
When I was 26 years old, I was in a bad surfing accident. I mean, really bad (graphic photo warning). I had just returned from six weeks traveling in Ethiopia of which four weeks I was incredibly sick with a sky rocketing temperature of 104 and a state of delusion with physical hives. At 5’7” I weighed an all time low of 110 pounds. A weight unheard of for me as a strength-based athlete. I remember feeling like a rag doll on dog walks with my 70-pound yellow lab. A feeling unheard of for me as a strength-based mentality.
Before the accident in Ethiopia
In retrospect, like a slow-motion scene where everything is already in play and you’re forced to watch without being able to stop it like water slipping through the cracks of a clenched fist, I can see how the events were bound to play out that day. Hindsight is 20/20 they say.
Day of the accident about an hour before.
Location is everything they say when it comes to business. Location was part of the inevitable dominos of this accident as I paddled out over low waters and high reef. Patience is a virtue they say. Patience I lacked as I eagerly took a wave too soon, too shallow.
Back to our slow-motion scene…I turn too eager to catch the first wave. I’m not ready. I’m not in the right spot. If I miss it, no big deal, it is small, I’ll just turn again and resume paddling out. They also say most accidents happen within five miles of your home because that’s when you lose present focus and let automatic focus take over. It makes us go through the familiar motions without complete conscious awareness. So things that feel familiar and easy become things where accidents can slip in. A difference between defensively driving and cruising.
When a wave peaks and creates the slide on which we surf, we say that the wave breaks. Well, that wave break broke me. Let me throw a bunch of surf language at you really fast and you can imagine the surfer accent “dude” and such for fun. I got tossed by that wave (I think you can imagine what that means). I pearled, meaning my board took a nosedive straight down into the reef. The nose of the board is the front point. As my board dives into the water, I am attached to it by the leash. I’m trying to stay horizontal and protect my head, so I don’t hurt myself on the reef. Isn’t it ironic that my board was the one hurt on the reef instead and in turn it was my board that hurt me? I suppose by a chain of events the reef hurt me as well? Choice and consequence and like I said and they say, hindsight is 20/20.
Flash back to our slow-motion scene, I’m in the water with white wash and chaos. I feel the tug of the leash as my board ricochets off the reef flying back towards the sky as if desperately seeking a gulp of air. Then, like a plunging bungee jumper the force of the ricochet and the whipping pull of the leash yanked the board back in the direction of the attachment. That would be me and my leg. The board struck me hard. I didn’t know yet how severe the strike was as I had rational thoughts and dialogue running through my head. I remember the specific thought and words I put to it, “that’s going to leave a bruise.” Sever physical trauma and adrenaline have a way of masking the pain after a certain point.
And scene! Slow motion subsides with the break of the wave and I come up to find my board during the lull. I place my hands, arms and chest on and against the board. I’m about to use my upper body strength to lift and haul my lower body back on my board but a strange thing happens. I can’t move my leg. That’s strange I think, I know I’m going to have a massive bruise and all but I cannot even connect to my leg to get it to move. The rest of my body did the work and dragged my leg along with it.
I’m back on my board, belly down like in sphinx pose. I look behind me to assess the damage. Shit. My right thigh is filleted open. I’m a perfect medical study to show students the layers from skin, through adipose to the clean shine of the muscle. I look forward, the broken pointed nose of my fiberglass board is the perfect destructive weapon.
I am not alone that day. My future ex-husband and babies daddy is a ways over paddling out. You should know that he is cursed and if you snowboard or surf with him you might get injured though there is no way that I can prove it has anything to do with him at all. But I do know that a decade later in a completely different state another friend will go surfing with him, have a different accident happen to them and they will be left with a similar scar to my own.
I yell his name. He doesn’t hear me. I try again…and again. He looks over. I’m waving for him to come and yelling. He’s looking at me and then looking out at the surf. He yells to me to come towards him. I yell, NO COME HERE. Again he looks out at the water like a dog that really wants to go run but its owner is sternly telling him to come here now. I see the defeat in the slump of his head and he comes my way. As he gets closer he is talking, I hear words being thrown out like come this way bla bla bla. I hear annoyance that I’m not reacting to those requests. Finally, he is in front of me.
Here is the other thing about severe physical trauma; our brain protects us from what it cannot handle or things we cannot handle. I was the calmest person in the chain of events that day. I tell him, listen, I need you to help paddle me in. He’s looking really confused with a hint of bewilder. I continue, before you get behind me, I need you to not freak out. Okay okay, roll of eyes, so over this already I can see his face but not his mouth saying. Okay, go behind and help push and I’ll paddle.
He is defeated at this point, so he paddles behind me and immediately forgets my one instruction not to freak out. He is yelling and frantic and telling me what has happened to which I say, “I know! I know! Just push me.” I can feel my upper body getting weak as I attempt to help with my paddling. My entire body is sinking into shock. But not enough shock to prevent reflexive reaction. As he gives the final push to float me onto shore and sand, without thinking and with him yelling, “Don’t stand up!” I attempt to stand up and collapse. There are only a few tourists on this particular beach and they are all watching and one is yelling, “She was attacked by a shark! She was attacked by a shark!” Isn’t it funny how we repeat exclamations? I mean it makes sense; you want to be heard because it is really important.
Now I’m being carried and set in the back of a Honda Element, a box like vehicle. We didn’t call the ambulance because we had a single lane road with a mountain on one side and cliff on the other in between us and the hospital and service was scarce. The ambulance would have to travel both directions to get me to the emergency room, or we drive the one direction straight there. We have taken every beach towel in the vehicle and wrapped them around my one leg. The entire drive he is talking to me and trying to get me to talk back so I won’t pass out from the shock. I’m actually in a pretty calm albite loopy state at this point.
We pull up to the emergency room and he runs inside to get someone and tells them to bring a wheelchair. They open the back double doors and I’m sitting there casually with a ton of towels but no signs of emergency. No visible blood seeping through, no thriving and screaming. So, they all look at me and each other and someone says, “So you need the wheel chair?” Implying, here you go…you can come out and sit in it now. “Yes,” I say, “But I need you to put me in it.”
They wheeled me inside and placed me in a waiting space. It felt like a long time before someone wheeled me into a room to ask questions. It felt like they seemed bored. I remember their back to me as they stood at a computer asking me basic questions about information like my name etc. I remember she finally turned around, looks down at me and says, “I assume the wound is under the towels?” To which I say, “Yes.” She responds, “Can I take a look?” To which I say, “Yes BUT, I’m going to look away because I’m trying to stay calm.” She says, “Okay…” and I mean every one of those ellipsis periods. It sounded like, “Oooooookaaaaayyyyyyyyy.” And though she didn’t roll her eyes, it sure sounded like it.
I look away. She removes the towels and finally joins the party. “OH MY GOD! I AM SO SORRY! TAKE HER TO TRAUMA TWO! TAKE HER TO TRAUMA TWO!” Again, that repetitive exclamation. There was no illusion of an unnecessary cry for help after this point. Another thing that can happen is that in the face of severe trauma to oneself, you can remain the calmest person in the mix and on top of that even laugh and stay patiently polite.
Things became rapid, no more slow-motion scenes from here on out. Instead, fast clips split together. “Will she lose her leg?”
“Don’t ask me that right now.”
“Can we let the nursing students observe, this is the worst longboarding accident I’ve seen at Maui Memorial Hospital.”
“Sure.”
A room full of students (I think their scrubs were a shade of burgundy).
A grey-haired older woman with a lamb puppet.
“Mind if I come in? Could you use a smile?”
“I’m fine, but he could probably use some cheering up.”
“Can you call my dad, let him know you’re my boyfriend and tell him what happened?”
“We need to pressure wash out the wound to make sure there isn’t fiberglass left inside before we sew it up.”
They gave me two doses of morphine. I still felt the pressure washing.
I would still end up with a gnarly infection I’d fight through pregnant in the weeks to follow.
No, I didn’t know I was pregnant.
I named him Calder, which means rough waters.
The car ride home.
Pull over.
Puke.
Pull over.
Puke.
Roommate helps boyfriend carry me up the stairs and put me in bed.
Now the opposite of hindsight and slow motion, we fast forward.
My son is now 12 years old which means this accident happened about 13 years ago. The lasting damage is nerve damage which has residual effects, requires constant maintenance and one incredibly annoying and perpetual side effect: restless leg syndrome.
This accident was a catalyst for so many things. For those who believe in things happening for a reason, fate, God’s plan or meant to be you’ll find the feel good, hallmark part of the story here. I don’t know if I believe all of that. I think I believe everything and nothing at the same time which probably makes little sense. I do believe in butterfly effects and forks in roads. I love the idea of parallel universes and pick your own story by what you do with what has happened to you.
I chose to heal from the injury while simultaneously building a baby by training for a full triathlon. I spent a lot of time on Baby Beach on Maui, swimming laps in the lagoon, up and down booty hill, running the beach and biking the airport road in Spreckelsville. First my leg would become infected, I would overcome that and then I would train. Six months after my son was born, I completed the Maui Triathlon. On the way home, sore and walking funny I would stop by the Maui Yoga Shala in Paia and that would be the true start of my Yoga practice. That is a story for another day and a day that has come and gone because I wrote that story already.
“ It could be said that the things that define me today blossomed from the trauma of yesterday.”
It could be said that the struggle with my leg led me to my hands. Standing on my hands led to so much more. It could be said that the struggle with my leg led to my obsession and education in therapeutics. It could be said that the things that define me today blossomed from the trauma of yesterday. I could say that the nerve damage on my inner thigh makes me have to work harder to stabilize my knee and that actively working on stabilizing my joints has changed the way I look at maintaining my body for longevity.
Now to the reason why I was inspired to share this story. Restless Leg Syndrome. It is the most annoying syndrome in existence if you ask me. If you know, you know. Restless legs lead to restless nights. Another annoying element is that you don’t know when it is going to hit. It can’t even be consistent so you can prepare. If I had to give a face to Restless Leg Syndrome it would be a mischievous court jester.
There are different treatments for Restless Leg Syndrome from supplements to medications and from self-care to lifestyle changes. For me there is one method that works beyond all the others and if I use it, I completely avoid restless leg. Usually, if I’m active enough in the day time, I do not struggle with this at night. But I run and walk and cycle daily, so inactivity is not the only culprit.
After an unusually rough week of restless leg, I used a couple of my own Myofascial Release methods before bed one night and had an amazing night of sleep. A couple days later and a couple nights of not using the MFR method, the mischievous court jester was back laughing at me. So again, I used the same method and jailed the jester!
Restless Leg Syndrome is not uncommon, though for different reasons than my own. I think most people that experience it understand the annoying frustration of it. That is why I want to share these methods with you because they truly work, and they are sleep changing! The prevalence of RLS is roughly between 4% and 15% of the general population. As many as 1 in 10 people are affected by RLS at some point in their life and the likely hood increases with age.
This action, trauma, hallmark story was brought to you today with the hopes to propose a self-care, at home solution to the most annoying syndrome keeping us up at night.
MFR Techniques for Restless Leg Syndrome using MFR balls and roller.
Place the ball between the hamstring and calf. Apply the appropriate amount of pressure that still allows you to release the muscles and breathe into the space. Move up and down the region but stay off of direct bone contact, ligaments, joints and any wounds. Being able to release the muscle under pressure is the goal. Stay in one spot for up to one minute then move to a new spot.
Place the ball on top of the roller. Work one leg at a time.
Using your hands roll the roller up and down the calf moving the ball along with it.
Keep the roller still and shift the leg side to side to cross fiber at location. Roll to a slightly new location and repeat.
My Wild Father's Wild Daughter
This is a bio that you can’t google on me. And it is the root and core of who I am. As much as I hated this story in its making, I wouldn’t trade it for any other story out there. It is unique, it is rare and it is truly wild.
My Wild Father’s Wild Daughter
I have been described by one of my sisters as “especially feral” and I do not mind that at all. I never felt like I fit into a box but always took pride in the typical black sheep mentality; a rebel with a cause. I was a scrappy little kid raised wild out in the country near Mt. Rainier. It is no wonder, since where I grew up was once a lot of forest land my dad bought for his dog to have space to run around. He eventually chopped down trees on that same plot of land and built a small log cabin. As the youngest of three girls, luckily I don’t remember the “out house” days too well. Plumbing existed when my memories really kicked in. That is where I was raised. He eventually built pastures, barns and a shop for his woodworking. As a child I would explain my dad, who by no means fit into any normal society as “the last true mountain man.”
We raised a lot of livestock on the property over the years. I remember the horses but not as engrained and deeply as the llamas. See my dad wanted to spend long periods of time in the mountains. He didn’t like normal trails where he would see other people. He bushwacked his own and we would travel deep into the mountains in the PNW and spend lengthy amounts of time. That is where the llamas came in. We raised them and trained them to be pack animals and haul a lot of gear up to our camp.
I know this camp so well. I can see the twists and turns of the trail only we knew about. I can see the giant rock with moss along the right front side that told me we were probably about a mile out. I can see camp with the steep ravine up we would take to get to what we named moon meadows to tether and water the llamas. How long did we stay out there? Long enough to build a water siphon system from a cold high creek down to camp. Long enough to chop down some small trees and build a corral for the llamas to stay in. Long enough to keep our tents and goods stored away when we would leave. Sometimes I hated it. When it was cold, when the hikes were hard, when the packs were heavy. When I was scared – a cougar screamed and my sister and I one time when we were taking the llamas to moon meadows. But sometimes it was quite literally simple magic. When I’d find a patch of sun between trees on a mossy bed and my little imagination would run wild. When my sisters and I would go to sit on a boulder field next to camp we named “Pika Rock” to quietly observe and count Pikas as they’d pop up in the morning. To me, a Pika looks like a squirrel sized Koala Bear.
I didn’t know how abnormal my childhood was because it was the only normal I knew. It became more obvious as I grew older. My youth was filled with the presence of my father and the loss of my mother. I was only four years old when she passed away and it was up to this very wild man to raise three little girls. For fun sometimes, I would go “flint knap” with him. That means that we would take the obsidian that we had purposely went and gathered and we would hit the obsidian with a specific technique, chipping away at it in the same way Native Americans would have to make arrow heads. He would then take the arrowheads and make arrows from other gathered goods. He would also make Long Bows out of gathered wood.
If I felt like spending time with my dad it might look like going to sit in his tack room as he skinned animals or it might smell like trying to handle the stench of being around when he would brain tan. Sometimes it was more artistic and we would weave porcupine quills into little leather satchels we made. He wanted to do everything himself from scratch. This included living off the land be it livestock, gardens or crafting from what the land provided. If I had to give my dad a religion he lived by it is definitely even to this day as he approaches 80 years old: work. He respects work, work ethic and believes that if you stop working that your body and mind will stop working too.
He was a hard man at times, but also funny, smart and surprising. I remember this red and white truck we would always see around our neck of the woods with “NEED WORK” roughly painted along the side and I remember the day I saw that truck parked in our driveway because my dad hired him to paint pasture fences. I remember that incredibly difficult time after my mom died when he would commute an hour away to the Naval Shipyard where he worked as an engineer. He’d come home and cook us something like slop gew or stew and he would play monopoly with us and read us Lord of the Rings. Those are great memories. We did not have access to television my entire upbringing though we had a TV and could sometimes watch a VHS. My love of books and writing comes from that parental choice.
My love of nature and need for the outdoors comes from my upbringing as well. My respect for people that work hard and persevere through hardships also comes from my dad’s example. I often talk about my love of my mother, the devastation of that loss and how it has taught me to seize the day and not take a single one for granted. But this story is about the wild man who raised me.
I know that you do not need fancy things to go far in life. I have a shoe box full of offers from colleges in storage for basketball and pole vaulting. I grew up shooting on a dirt path to a hoop drilled onto a tree and windmill pitching into a tire hanging from a pasture fence. But I still played four varsity sports every year of high school and went to state every year for basketball and pole vaulting for a 4A Highschool in Washington State (that we traveled 45 minutes to get to). And though it’s been broken since, I broke the school record for pole vaulting the first year I tried it and made first team all league my senior year of high school for my all time favorite sport: basketball. I also had the most fouls and steals in the league (super scrappy).
I was raised a dirty savage mountain girl and I was taught that material things don’t stand for much, but your word, your honor, your respect and especially your work ethic do. I was taught by a seriously rough around the edges dad who desperately wanted a boy but instead had to raise three girls on his own that girls can do anything boys can. I was taught to stand up for myself, speak up for myself and never give up. Like any story there are so many other sides to this one. Nothing is black and white and I am nothing if not multi-faceted.
But this is a segment of my story that I haven’t shared deeply yet. This is a bio that you can’t google on me. And it is the root and core of who I am. As much as I hated this story in its making, I wouldn’t trade it for any other story out there. It is unique, it is rare and it is truly wild. Just like me – especially feral.