Amy Passantino is one of 10 people to partake in a human experiment: An interior designer, born and raised in New Jersey, puts herself to the ultimate test surviving in the wild. Before going back int0 the paleolithic era Amy had to survive many things, including losing her own mother to cancer. This quest became more of a personal challenge for her: returning back to our cavemen roots, learning the land, adjusting to the elements, and functioning from a new level of self – her animal self.
Were we better off as cavemen? Morgan Spurlock (“Super Size Me”) joins nine
ordinary men and women in an attempt to survive in the wild using only stone-age technology. Cold, dehydration, and hunger threaten to derail the experiment from the start. Morgan Spurlock (“Super Size Me”) and his group continue their experiment to live in the wild only stone-age technology. Hunger and deprivation push the group to the brink of failure. Can a successful elk hunt save them?
I am proud of myself for taking part in this experiment and I’m honored to have been among such amazing castmates, including Morgan Spurlock from such projects as “30 Days” and “Super Size Me.”
To witness this amazing journey tune into “I, Caveman” on Discovery Channel airing this Sunday, October 2, at 8:00 pm.
I am all about positive thinking and a big fan of Mike Dooley. Here is an excerpt from his book Infinite Possibilities, The Art of Living Your Dreams.
“All the answers you seek like within. Daily, in moments of quiet, ask yourself for the direction you seek, and look for the answers in your feelings and intuitions. Feel with your heart and your mind; the “right” way will always feel good and make sense. Your mission in life-your purpose-is simply to be-to be yourself. And the only way you can be yourself is to begin listening to yourself-to your desires and dreams, and to your heavenly inspired feelings.”
I love his work and I receive his inspiring notes from the universe every day for an extra positive boost. It’s so important to embrace who you are including what makes you different.
Check out his site www.tut.com to sign up for your own notes of the universe. Here is another amazing book of his, Manifesting Change.
Mike you always keep me positive and remind me I can follow my dreams.
Well, here it is! The first 3 pages of my book. I wrote a memoir and it is finally completed. This will be the first time I have actually shared any of it publicly, baby steps…I am currently seeking a publisher. For more info: Fix You
I believe this book was something I was supposed to write. I look forward to hearing any of your feedback. Prior to this memoir I had not written anything, but through my writings I was able to come to terms with the loss of my mother and in turn “fix” myself. We are all in some way fixing ourselves. My hopes for this book would be for you to take away some of the lessons I have learned through my own loss, gaining a bigger perspective on life. Sometimes by looking back you can change your steps forward…
INTRO
How do we come to terms with the decisions we’ve made in our lives, decisions in our career, friendships, and relationships? I’m the kind of person who is always searching for answers. But what if the answers aren’t there when you need them? When we’re “in it,” in that specific moment, weird place, your present, you are “in it.”
I have found that you must first leave that chapter in life in order to make sense of it. I get frustrated sometimes because there are no answers yet, but I’ve learned to be patient, and experience the wild turns, surprises, and everyday emotions, until one day something clicks, and you see why it happened all along; the unraveling of your life.
My mother died from cancer. To this day, I still rub my shins if I get a bruise for fear it may turn into a cancerous tumor; it’s always in the back of my mind. Am I destined to become my mother? It’s my deepest fear. She was deserted by her husband, and defeated by her worst enemy, cancer. Her last words “I was an idiot,” left more questions than answers. Every ache, bruise, and pain I feel, I now associate with death.
I could die tomorrow, this I know. So my instinct is to run. I run, and I run, to try and escape these thoughts, but I realize there’s nowhere to go. There are songs that have guided me through the most difficult times; “Fix You” by Coldplay is one of them. It represents a crucial turning point in my life, the act of fixing. How do you fix someone who is broken inside or better yet, how do you fix yourself? When I started writing this book I thought the story was about my mother dying, but what I realize now is that it’s about the girl she left behind.
My mother’s story was never told. She never had the chance. Pictures and stories are all we have left, unveiling themselves like little wrapped gifts from a forgotten time. I watched a black and white video of my mother’s wedding the other day. She came running out of the church with a big smile on her face. A glimpse into her life…a photo of her engagement party, her happiness before it all faded. I know I will never fully understand my mother, but I still have to try. This story is my chance. I write it not only for me, but for my mother as well.
Chapter 1 – Denial
I wake from a deep restful sleep, stretching both arms out in front of me. The
crisp autumn air has finally settled in. It’s the season I looked forward to
most every year as a little girl growing up in northern New Jersey. How I loved
the pumpkin picking, the bumpy hayrides, and the taste of homemade apple butter sold at the local fall festivals. I have fond memories of playing in the large
pile of leaves in the front yard of my home wearing the old, hooded navy blue
sweatshirt that was handed down to me. I remember the smell of the morning dew enveloping each leaf as I grab a massive armful, tossing them around playfully. My two older brothers and I would take turns throwing ourselves into the fluffy, neat pile my father had just raked. We’d carelessly scatter them
around, giggling without a care in the world.
It’s 2002, on the first cool day of the year in Virginia. The brisk air seeps in through the windows. The once summery green leaves are mixed with golden yellows, ochre browns, cherry reds, and burnt orange, my favorite colors. I’d slept like a baby feeling amazingly refreshed as I lay in bed, a warm smile on my face. That’s when I then notice that the alarm didn’t go off. I glance at the time, it’s 10:30 am, and then I try to remember what day it is. Is it a workday? I take another look at the clock. Did I oversleep?I mentally retrace my steps from the night before, of setting my alarm and collapsing onto my bed. I think back on the evening I spent at the Weidermier’s the night before having dinner with my boyfriend David and his parents, Ronnie and Grace. David wore the baby blue polo I bought him that matched his eyes. The sleeves hugged his muscles when he bent his arms. He’d just gotten home from work and his father handed him a beer.
“Son, did you get any new accounts for us today?”
David’s thick dark hair is neatly parted to the side. He stands tall and confident. “I think I closed the deal on one of them. I have to follow-up again tomorrow.”
“Good job son.” Ronnie says, patting him on the back.
David nods, then walks with his father out onto the porch while his mother and I make small talk in the kitchen. She’s preparing one of her delicious and healthy meals. Her kitchen is welcoming like her smile. The red walls are a rich statement against the deep mahogany cabinets. I can see my reflection in the sleek black island cook top.
I’ve sat here many nights sipping a glass of red wine, watching her prepare dinner. Her tidy kitchen is blessed with ivory Corian countertops, while the southern decor of rooster ceramics and spider plants dance along the windowsill. She loves her plants and trees in their clay pots, strategically placed around her home. As I drink, she waters each of them while maintaining our conversation. The house sits on a lake and is custom designed with private balconies and an outdoor deck that overlooks the pool and the gracious landscaping. Grace spends endless hours planting her homegrown gardens with bird feeders and flowers that emulate the warm colors of her home.
The weekends usually consist of David’s father taking us on their pontoon boat for a late night cruise. The front headlights guiding us through the fog reflect the mist that sits just above the water. Under the parasol of trees, the sounds of frogs and crickets become the background to our laughter. An after dinner cocktail rests in everyone’s hand as Ronnie amuses us with stories of David’s childhood. I proudly look over at him, at my hand lying casually across his shoulder.
Their house is the home I never had growing up, the one I always wanted. I marvel as I watch Grace selflessly prepare a meal for her family after working a full day and then running to the gym. She is the perfect housewife; a sweet, gracious homemaker who somehow manages to maintain her petite, toned physique and her perfectly styled blonde hair. Grace has that special ability to make you feel special, and to cater to your every need while staying calm and put together. She took an immediate liking to me when David first brought me home. I liked Grace right away. I felt privileged to be a guest in her warm and inviting home.
I look back at the clock again, 10:45. It’s slowly beginning to set in; I’m late for work. I’m supposed to be at work at 9:00. I don’t know why I’m not jumping out of bed, running to the bathroom, and throwing on some clothes. Instead I break into laughter. I look down at the sheets and notice my cell phone. It’s turned off. I never turn off my cell phone. Then I pause, taking notice to the silence in my apartment, the hazy light from the sun peaking through the blinds. All of a sudden, I begin to connect the dots looking back at my alarm clock. An ironic sequence of events allowed me to completely and utterly sleep in. My gut, my intuition speaks loudly putting it all together for me: the pain and suffering, I don’t feel it anymore. This can only mean one thing, my mother is gone.
When I turned 30 my life finally became about me. I was no longer concerned with what others thought I should be doing, pleasing everyone but myself. For the first time I was following my own heart, my own impulses, and as scary as this new territory was – it was also the only thing that felt right…
Dreams I thought were long gone became stronger inside finally surrendering to the ride, freeing my fears with each baby step, each audition, blog posting, and recipe I poured my heart into. I began to share my soul with the world, which to most can be the scariest step of all. I looked back at my work history and saw a resume that meant nothing to me. I had a portfolio of zero and no experience in what I wanted to do. I flashed back to all the signs I saw along the way, but chose to ignore out of fear. Fear of failing, fear of not being good enough…
All the while, I was like a deer in headlights frozen, knowing I couldn’t waste any more time and go backwards and I was too damn scared to move forward knowing the world was coming at me like a speeding car. Bills were piling up…mortgage payments, and those people, my friends and family, the ones who were closest to me kept trying to push me back into the box I had been trying to climb out of for so many years. It was quite simply because – it was all they knew of me. Some grew frustrated, some even jealous of my tenacity, and others simply just faded away. It was at that time I realized the only person who believed in me was well, me.
And times get even tougher falling like a child to my knees screaming on the floor of an empty apartment. No one said letting go was easy. You begin to doubt yourself feeling lost without a compass on a raft without an oar sailing upstream, but in actuality I was learning, growing, and surviving. To believe in yourself, to really prevail, the word persevere takes on new meaning, digging into the depths
of your soul to find an undeniable confidence that ceased to exist before. “I
can do this. I will do this.”
I was in a stage of discovery – re-defining who I was without my degree shifting into anew appearing “lost” on the outside. I literally watched the past slip through my fingers – everything gone, along with the people who had mysteriously vanished out of my life. My body became riddled with fear, because nothing about my life was familiar. My neighborhood, my home, crying myself to sleep at night. Like a bad dream washed over me and when I awoke the sun was finally shining down upon my face. The clouds began to clear –the old disintegrating and new people began to appear, creeping out of an unknown abyss, presenting themselves like birds flocking toward me, supporting me, and rooting me on like they had been there the entire time… I still can’t figure out how I ever missed them – or couldn’t even see them at the time.
Old friends began to reappear, and for the first time they saw me as I truly was
and I realized…I had finally arrived.
