About Me:

Aloha! I'm Wendy Kennar. I'm the mother of a seven-year-old son and a wife living in Los Angeles. I was a public school teacher for twelve years until a chronic medical condition made it necessary to leave my teaching career.

I've always been described as "quiet" - really, I'm just biting my tongue. I've got lots to say, and lots of thoughts to share, I just prefer to write them. That's the purpose of this blog. Each Wednesday, I post a personal essay offering my observations and thoughts.

A few fun facts about me: I've wanted to be a writer since second grade, when my teacher, Mrs. Jones, made me a "book" with a yellow construction paper cover. I have never learned to whistle, have always preferred sunflowers to roses, and have spent my life living within the same zip code.

Through the years, my writing has been published in the Los Angeles Times, Christian Science Monitor, United Teacher, GreenPrints, L.A. Parent, DivineCaroline.com, RoleReboot.org, XOJane, and Brain, Child Magazine. Additionally, my personal essays have been included in several anthologies, including: The Barefoot Review, Beyond the Diaper Bag, Lessons From My Parents, Write for Light, Being a Grown-Up: A User's Manual for the Real World, Ka-Pow!, How Writing Can Get You Through Tough Times, Breath and Shadow, The Grey Wolfe Storybook, and Sisters Born, Sisters Found.
I am a regular contributor at MomsLA.com, and you can also find me at Goodreads.

Thanks for stopping by and reading my blog. Feel free to comment and share my blog with others!

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Stilling My Body and Mind

   A few months ago, I ordered a foam roller from Amazon.com.  I had first used a foam roller during the physical therapy aspect of my chronic pain group.  Turns out that when people are in pain, they have a tendency to curl up and assume a fetal-like position.  And while curling up in this way may seem self-soothing or self-protecting, it’s really an unnatural position for a body to be in.  Which means while my body is in pain, I’m making it worse when I’m all curled up.

   The foam roller is not comfortable.  It’s hard and unforgiving.  But the longer I’m using it, the more I’m getting used to it.  I started off trying to lie on it for 3 minutes at a time.  The other night, I had a personal best of 11 minutes.  

   I lie on the foam roller, eyes closed, and facing away from my bedroom clock.  I don’t want to be tempted to steal glances, checking to see how many minutes I’ve accomplished so far.

   While I’m on the foam roller, that’s all I’m doing.  No music.  No reading.  Just breathing.  I’m even trying not to think -- which isn’t easy for me at all.  But when I feel my mind wandering, I try to bring it back to my breathing.  Focusing on what I’m feeling or hearing at the moment.  

   Using a foam roller is supposed to increase blood flow, help you stretch muscles, improve range of motion, and decrease pain.  I don’t know if it’s doing that or not.  But I do know that the foam roller is getting me to do something I’m generally not good at -- being still and doing nothing.  

   And I see that as an unmistakable benefit and a healthy way for me to wind down at the end of a day.


  1. I would love the foam roller to take away your pain;but since it isn't doing that I am thankful it is letting you rest for a few minutes with a clear mind.It seems you and I have the same problem of not being able to just clear our minds and think of nothing.My mind seems to go non stop.I love you and I am so proud of you.

  2. I look forward to reading your blog each week. Your mother & I are proud of you.
    Love, dad

  3. Honey,
    You are a very dedicated woman and I am proud of you. I am glad that the foam roller gives you a chance to unplug and focus on the moment. I Love You!
    Love, me