Give up the Shoulds. Give up the Guilt.

A couple of days ago I was talking to my mom, who had had a particularly rotten day. “I ate fries and a frosty. I told myself no, but I did it anyway. Then we had birthday cake for a co-worker,” she said. The following day a dear friend lamented that she felt guilty for not blogging with consistency. “I don’t ever read like I should,” I commiserated. My very first thoughts this morning as my brain fluttered to consciousness and my hand slipped over my belly were I should not have eaten that whole plate of nachos last night. Way to keep a fat belly, CK. It was followed with regret for staying in bed until 6:00 instead of rising at 5:00 and for opting to watch TV instead of working out last night.

Then I got angry.

I don’t want to beat myself up anymore for what I ate, or the books I haven’t read, or the meditation and yoga I haven’t been practicing. And I don’t want my mother or my friends to be down on themselves because of frosties and an inconsistent blogging habit. Their worth is measured by far more than that. I don’t think any less of my mom for eating French fries for lunch on a stressful day. To me it will not register any difference in the way she looks; she will still be the most beautiful woman I know. I don’t think she is weak, fat, or pathetic. All it means to me is that an awesome woman ate a side of potatoes cooked in oil for lunch and nothing more. I don’t think my friend lacks discipline or is a failure because she doesn’t blog consistently. She’s still one of the smartest, witty people I know. I marvel at the fact that she attempts to blog at all while caring for two children, settling into a new home, working a full time job, and chairing at least two community clubs. Inconsistent blogging does not diminish her super woman status.

Why is it that we beat ourselves up over these things? Clearly, those things that we feel guilty over are the ones that hold great importance to us. My mother and I think it’s important to avoid fast food and eat whole foods for optimal health. My friend and I were born with a talent for and need to write, therefore blogging (or any outlet of creative writing) is important to us. The guilt for slipping up on a diet or not honing your talent is understandable, but is it necessary?

Think about how much energy we waste feeling guilty and beating ourselves up for choices we make and things we do or don’t do. Think about all the things you could accomplish if you refocused that energy into positive thoughts and actions. What if when you have a bad day and you find yourself at Wendy’s for lunch you say, “I want fries and a frosty. I want them because it’s a stressful day and because they will taste delicious.” And what if you just ate them and said, “Damn, that was good,” and let that be the end of it. What if when you start to despair because you haven’t written anything in a while you acknowledge your life is crazy and then write one single sentence, the most beautifully creative sentence you can craft, and post it (and be proud of it!). What if we realized that we are human. We are fallible. We aren’t going to eat perfectly all the time. In fact there will be periods of time where we may eat junk consistently. We aren’t going to meet every standard we set for ourselves. There will be times when we simply can’t keep the house clean, don’t have time to make a home cooked meal, avoid exercise or our yoga practice. There will be times when we watch too much TV, don’t call stay in touch with our grandmothers regularly, and feed the dog half of our bowl of chili because we are too lazy to get up and mix the canned and dry dog food together.

And guess what? IT’S OK. We are imperfect beings, but that does not make a single one of us any less extraordinary, nor does it devalue our worth.

Here’s my suggestion, and it’s advice that I need to practice and keep close to my own heart. Evaluate those things for which you feel guilty and beat yourself up. Decide if they are truly important to you or if they are just “shoulds” placed in your life by society, your family, your friends, etc. Then make conscious and deliberate choices to pursue those important things. So…it’s really important to me that I write consistently—I have a talent for it. I got my degree in it. I want to have a career in it—therefore I need to be adamant in my writing. Or take yoga for example. As a yoga teacher it is very important that I have my own yoga practice, and I feel really guilty that I don’t practice on my own very often. If I want to grow and improve as a teacher I’ve got to practice yoga. I decide it’s important so I make the commitment to do it. Then there’s something like reading. I feel like I should be devouring books. Indeed, to be a good writer, you need to be an avid reader. But my days are jam packed from 5:15am when I wake up to 7:30pm when I get home, and, frankly, I enjoy flopping on the couch and vegging to Desperate Housewives. Sure, I’d benefit more from picking up a book, but most nights I just need to switch to autopilot and crash. So I’m not gonna feel guilty anymore for not reading a lot.

 It’s far easier said than done, but it boils down to this. Be mindful in your choices and actions, and then cut yourself some slack. Focus your energies on the positives in life and your small achievements. So you ate fries at lunch? Who cares? You came home and walked on the treadmill for 30 minutes. Find pride in that. You didn’t blog today? So what. You snuggled up to your kiddos and read them a story. You’re their hero. Didn’t read a chapter in that book? It’s ok; you spent the last hour laughing with your husband while watching the antics on Wisteria Lane. Those are good things. They are the little moments that make life grand. Sets your sights on them. Cultivate more of them and let go of the rest. Your life is far too precious to be spent laden with guilt over the “shoulds” and “should nots”. Remember that.

Love to you all.

Chocolate Caramel Coffee Bars- Unprocessed and Paleo Approved! (Well the dark chocolate part is debatable...)

My hubby has long entertained the idea of working for the Feds. The very first time he mentioned his interest, I made a promise to myself that if he ever was accepted to the FBI Academy, I'd spend the duration of his training in Paris, Now, I don't know how long Federal agent training lasts, but his State training took eight months. Since he was still in Georgia we were able to see each other roughly every two weeks, but with the FBI training head quarters being in Virginia, our visits would be fewer and farther in between. I'd be so lonely at home all by myself for that extended period of time, but the cost of traveling to see him would be considerable. I think another good use of that money would be an extended trip to Paris. It would be the perfect distraction for my love sick heart. Writing in front of an open window, crips white curtains fluttering in the breeze. Strolling through the city in the afternoons, nibbling bon bons and sipping fine wine. I'd be saturated in inspiration for my creative craft.

I'm not counting any chickens before they hatch or fretting over the future. Heck no! I'm just indulging in some heady wishful thinking. Those decisions are somewhere far down the road and will come in due time, but I do enjoy dreaming of the possibilities.

Speaking of bon bons, sometimes all a girl needs is some chocolate. In fact, I think you should savor a bit of chocolate every day if it suits you and helps you foster a bit of happiness or balance. Is that investing too much emotion into a food? Probably, but let's face it, chocolate will always be tied to emotion, so we might as well enjoy it. But make sure you enjoy the good stuff. M&Ms may be good in a pinch, but they pale in comparison to a rich homemade chocolate dessert, like these:

Chocolate Caramel Coffee Bars from Paleomg.com.

How decadent do those look? The best part is that aside from a little dark chocolate these are made with 100% whole, unprocessed ingredients. No preservatives and sweetened with dates and a tiny bit of honey (ok and the chocolate), these babies are a perfect alternative to typical sweet treat fare. I made them last night, and they were amazing! They're extremely rich so a small square should satisfy even your most vicious cravings. I used 70% dark chocolate, and that paired with the dates (I love dates, even if they look like cockroaches) was just a touch too tangy for me. Next time I'll try 55% dark chocolate or maybe milk chocolate and see if that makes a difference. Regardless, these will be a party in your mouth. (And they aren't troublesome to make at all.) Enjoy!

Chocolate Coffee Caramel Bars

Prep time: 15 mins

Total time: 15 mins

 

Serves: 3-4 (these are way too rich to just serve 3-4! Cut them into small squares and savor.)

 

Ingredients

For the crust

• 12 dried figs (or dates, if you prefer), stems removed
• ½ cup almond butter
• ¼ cup Unsweetended Shredded Coconut
• 2 tablespoons Raw Honey
• 3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• pinch of salt

For the caramel

• 12-14 medjool dates, pitted and soaked in water for an hour
• 5-6 tablespoons canned coconut milk (I only used 5 tbsps and could have used slightly less still- or use less of the water below)
• 3 tablespoons water
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• pinch of salt

For the topping

• 1 cup Enjoy Life Chocolate Chips or dark chocolate, melted
• ¼ cup canned coconut milk
• 2 teaspoons ground coffee
• coarse sea salt, to top

Instructions

1. First make your crust. Add all of your crust ingredients into a food processor and mix until well combined. Add the crust mixture to a bread pan and push down until the mixture is flat. Like a crust. Duh.
2. Now add your dates and pulse until dates have broken down (less than a minute) then add your coconut milk tablespoon by tablespoon to the dates while the food processor is still running. Then add your water as well.
3. And add your vanilla extract and pinch of salt.
4. Process until you get a caramel. BOOM. May take 3-5 minutes, tops.
5. Pour caramel over your crust and spread evenly.
6. Now you will want to melt your chocolate. You could do this in a double boiler or just the microwave. I chose the latter.
7. Melt chocolate and coconut milk together in the microwave. Heating for 30 seconds then mixing well and reheating when necessary.
8. Once your chocolate is completely melted, add your ground coffee and mix well.
9. Pour melted chocolate over your caramel and spread evenly.
10. Add coarse sea salt on top of the chocolate.
11. Put in freezer to let chocolate harden. Around 10+ minutes.
12. Eat!!

A Reluctant Affair

I confess; I live a half-life. Much of my time I spend wondering and worrying about what my life will look like in the next 6 months. Will my husband be promoted or transferred? Where will we live? Will we still be North Georgia? Should I look for another job? Or do I stick it out where I am? Does my husband even want to move? Will there be resentment if we leave North Georgia? We’ve lived in Ringgold now for two and a half years, and it has taken me exactly that amount of time to form a bond with the area. I’ve finally admitted to my crush on Chattanooga, and it wants to blossom into a full on love affair. Yet, I keep myself at arms’ length. I can’t get too attached, not if we’ll be leaving by the time the year is through (if being the operative word).

I spend at least 6 days of my week in Chattanooga. My resistance to her charms was futile. The breeze off the river whispered secrets in my ear every time I walked across the Market Street Bridge. The windowed angles of the Aquarium glistened like diamonds. Chattanooga invited me to stroll her sidewalks lined with the shops of hardworking yet laid back owners. She coerced me to play barefoot in the waterfall stairs of the River Walk and slide down her broad grassy banks. We grew close over weekends in the North Shore practicing yoga and lunching at Greenlife.
 

Centennial Park, The Delta Queen, Walnut St. Bridge,
and the Aquarium in the background

I’ve imagined our future together. I pretend I am one of the more recognizable names around town when it comes to writing and fitness. I see myself volunteering my time and executing large fund raisers for mental and physical health awareness. I see myself teaching large yoga classes in Centennial Park and writing columns for Get Out and Chattanooga Magazine. I see the smiles of the people I'd help and my network of colleagues and peers. They are active, easy-going, resourceful, and mindful. The crave balance like I do and create it for themselves. They inspire me.  Like a teenager with her first love, I have Chattanooga's and my whole life planned out.
 

But like in most relationships, I’ve built my walls, and I’m not keen on dismantling them. To become anymore attached to Chattanooga while the details of my home life are up in the air would be inviting pain. I will already miss the city whenever we leave. I don’t want to miss it any more than is necessary. Here again, we come to the problem of living the half-life. I choose not to fully integrate myself in order to not hurt in the future, but that leaves the present lackluster and wanting. My days are extraordinarily busy, but they are packed with the mundane “have to do” responsibilities of life, not the things that set me on fire. I’ve already taken a few steps to make the time outside of my 9 to 5 the life I live for, but I am the point in my life where I need more change. I need to actively pursue those things I love with all my energies. I know it’s possible to achieve what I desire, but I stall. What’s the point in finding a job more suited to my talents and integrating myself into something (even if I’ll love it) if we are only going to uproot within the next few months or year?

Were I talking to a friend, I’d tell them that the point of pursuing those things now is to make the most of your life in this present moment because (warning: cliché coming) the present is all we have. This very moment- that’s it. And if you’re miserable, but refuse to change things because there’s a possibility you might not be in this place in the next few months, then you’re only cheating yourself, honey. What’s the worst that could happen? You find your dream job and then move 3 months later? Yes, that would suck, but wouldn’t it suck worse to slog out those 3 months in a place (warning: drama queen mode kicking in) that makes you feel dead inside?

I can’t decide if that sounds too idealistic- “follow your heart and dreams now”- and if I need to counter it with a spoonful of practicality- “it is responsible to stay where you are now, until you know what you’re plans are. Don’t give up a good paying job for uncertainty”. My idealist and rationalist are always at war (but that taps into a whole other post about dual nature I’ve got simmering). I guess the best advice I can give myself is to not worry so much about the future and things that are not yet decided. Yes, I’ve waited a long time for concrete direction and will have to wait a bit longer, but the answers are coming. When they do I can spring into action. Until then, I must shed the worry and live as mindfully as possible in this present moment, being content with my circumstances as they are but still pursuing those things that light me up so I can spill that light onto others. God has everything in control. All I have to do is let Him drive.

Dust free= avoidance

My house is spotless. I dusted every slat of every blind, behind the fridge, and under the washing machine and dryer. I vacuumed under every piece of furniture, inside the window sills full of decaying bugs. I even scrubbed the baseboards and door fronts in the livingroom and hall. God bless the creator of the Magic Eraser for making that task infinitely easier.

I always prefer a clean house, and with the aroma of sping riding on the breeze it seems like a good time to brighten everything up. Honestly, though, I clean to avoid. There's always something dirty or cluttered around the house which always offers me the perfect excuse to avoid, say, writing my blog, or finding new music for cycling class, or prepping my meals for the week, or working out even. During the week I have no down time to make excuses to procrastinate. From 5:00 am when I wake up to 8:00pm when I usually get home I am on the go. For the breif hour before I pass our at 9:00, I'm usually already crashed on the couch, trying and failing to reduce a little stress, or I'm making a last ditch attempt to get myself ahead of the game for tomottow. The weekend is wide open. I successfully schedule my mornings to keep me occupied and our of danger of a food fest, but the afternoons are more difficult. I want to do something fun, like explore Chattanooga, so I put off the writing and the class prepping, and the next week food prepping. Or I want to nap, or I don't want to live my entire life scheduled out to the minute. I may need to do that because it helps keeps me on the many tracks I needs to be on, but my defiant inner child doesn't like it. I wanna do, what I wanna do, when I wanna, do it, and I don't want to do THAT.

Sparkling base boards are definitely a reward for hard work, and I know I did not waste my time, but I did avoid my responsibilities and the other things I needed to do to keep me in balance this week. Why do we humans do that? Why do we avoid the things that we know are good for us, the things that will bring us health, balance, and even extra time on our hands? I need to know your secrets because right now I'm at a loss. How do you shut up your bratty inner child and do the things that will benefit you? Like I've said the key for me is structure. It's what gets me throught the week with my head above water and would get me through my weekend with out fear of bingeing, but take effort, commitment, and planning- things I loike to go light on during the weekend.

Anyway, that's all I've got this morning. Share with me your motivation to keep it going when your inner kid is kicking and screaming. Hope you all had a lovely weekend and a super week ahead! Love to you all!

The most awesome Valentine gift

Look at the new toy my super sweet weekend valentine bought me!

Cue happy dance.
 

For its inaugural use, I whipped up a double batch of homemade mayo. No longer will I waste precious minutes and tire my forearm while slowly drizzling olive oil into a blender! This baby gets the job done in 60 seconds flat. I just tossed all the ingredients in a bowl, pressed power, and the emulsion blossomed before my eyes.

Momma and I decided last weekend that we are doing another Whole30 (starting yesterday). Neither of us followed the reintroduction process as outlined. I've been going hog wild with sugar consumption in all its obvious and hidden forms, which is probably why every part of my body that had slimmed down in January has plumped up again. Yep, it's true. Those jeans from Christmas 2011 are once again in the back of the closet because they won't slide over my hips. Am I going to beat myself up over it? Ha, I already have. Nope, I'm just going to jump back into the Whole30, cleanse my body with whole foods, and learn from the stumbles I've experienced in the last couple of weeks.

More importantly, we have booked our summer vacation. June 22 will arrive in a hurry so mom and I want to get a jump start on our smokin' bikini bods. Plus, my daddy, who did the Whole30 with us in January lost a disgusting unbelievable 20 pounds! Genuinely giddy, he glowed as he announced on Monday that he is back to his high school weight. Ugh, men....

So back to the Whole30 it is. However, I'm doing it more for the structure and the peace that structure brings to my life than for shedding body fat for summer. As I reread posts from just a few short weeks ago, the happiness and balance I experienced leaps from the page and smacks me in the face. I've felt like my life tailspinned into a mess once the Whole30 was over. So why not go back to it and reclaim that happiness and balance? It only makes sense. (And please note that my situation is a bit unique. If you're in the middle of a Whole30 or thinking about doing one, don't think that you are doomed to rebound or yoyo back to your old habits or old body. You have the control, and you can make it successful. So can I; I just have to quash Ed.)

I won't blog about this second go 'round, unless I experience some huge revelation. But I will make an effort to continue posting something everyday (whether you like it or not, muhahaha). I think Thursday posts will be yoga focused and Fridays will be a bit more creative in nature. Maybe Tuesdays or Wednesdays will feature a recipe; not of my own creation though, unless you crave something burned and inedible. But I do see lots of creamy soups and purees in my future now that I have my new toy. I want to make an effort to be more positive on Mondays and start the week off on an uplifting note. My brother Morgan suggested "MoMo Mondays", which (since coming from his mind) would be a hilarious rapid fire of insanity. Hmmm...we'll see.

Homemade mayo (in case you never clicked any of the links to this recipe I posted before):
From Theclothesmakethegirl.com

Ingredients:
1 egg @ room temp
2 tablespoons lemon juice @ room temp
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup plus 1 cup olive oil (light, not extra virgin) @ room temp

Directions:
1. Place the egg and lemon juice in a blender or food processor. Let them come to room temperature together, about 30-60 minutes. Add the dry mustard, salt, and 1/4 cup of the oil. Whirl until well mixed – about 20 to 30 seconds.
THIS IS THE IMPORTANT PART!
2. The only remaining job is to incorporate the remaining 1 cup oil into the mixture. To do this, you must pour very slowly… the skinniest drizzle you can manage and still have movement in the oil. This takes about three minutes or so. Breathe. Relax. Drizzle slowly.
If you’re using a blender, you’ll hear the pitch change as the liquid starts to form the emulsion. Eventually, the substance inside the blender will start to look like regular mayonnaise, only far more beautiful. Do not lose your nerve and consider dumping! Continue to drizzle.
If your ingredients were all at room temperature and you were patient, you will be rewarded!

OR...dump everything into a bowl, take your precious immersion blender, and go to town. Woohoo!

Tybee Time

Vacations, especially those to the beach, never last long enough. The last four days back home in Statesboro and at Tybee passed as quickly as a mere couple of hours. But it was a wonderful weekend. Mom and I celebrated our successful completion of the Whole30 with a trip to Tybee Island. I anticipated wearing light jackets and lounging on a blanket on the beach, soaking up Vitamin D while catching up on reading. However, it was so cold and windy that we only stepped foot onto the sand one time. Though bundled in layers, gloves, and scarves, our bones still froze.

So what’s the alternative when it’s too cold to enjoy the beach? Shopping, of course! Our first stop was the Southern Women’s Show at the Savannah Convention Center. The auditorium overflowed with Southern belles and vendors desperate to make a sale. It only took .5 seconds for momma and me to become overwhelmed, but we methodically made our way up and down the aisles of booths, politely declining invitations to try magic mops and pheromone sprays. Just when I thought we’d make it through without having to adamantly refuse a vendor’s advances, a man with long, whispy gray hair and clothed in mud splotched duds grabbed momma’s arm.

He slathered her hand in moist volcanic ash, touting its detoxifying effects. Mom tried to recoil, but the man caked on more mud and commented on the gorgeous light radiating from her eyes. I giggled, and he noticed me for the first time. “Oh, are you with her? I guess yours do too if you’re with her.” He grabbed a warm wash cloth and wiped the mud off mom’s hands. I won’t lie; the difference in her two hands was pretty astonishing. The ash cleansed hand was bright and glowing. Her fingers were slim, natural puffiness gone, and the line and wrinkles of her palm had evaporated.

“You see. You don’t have to believe what I say. You can see it for yourself. It works. You can use it all over your body. Face. Belly. Legs. Butt,” he said and started quoting prices. Mom was ready to walk away, but I was hooked (sucker that I am). “Here, I’ll do yours,” he said grabbing my hand, “since you’re with her.”

We walked away from the booth with a jar of volcanic ash each.

We made another great find of flavored olive oils and balsamic vinegars at another booth. We sampled blood orange olive oil with chocolate balsamic vinegar, garlic mushroom olive oil with pecan praline balsamic vinegar, and basil olive oil with strawberry balsamic vinegar. We both could have died happy right then and there. I have never tasted anything so delicious in my life as those oil and vinegar combos. We insisted to every passerby that they try a sample too. Those who refused, we tackled and forced it down their throats (not really, but I thought about it). We left that booth with a bottle of all six flavors.

Though we were celebrating the Whole30, we definitely did not eat according to the Whole30 while on vacation. We enjoyed creamy shrimp and corn cakes, balsamic glazed sweet potato fries, crab cake sandwiches, rich steak “Oscar”, and crème brule. And for breakfast each morning we had chocolate.


Breakfast of champions

 On our last night momma and I decided to try the North Beach Grill near the lighthouse. I could’ve sworn I’d eaten there before, and that it was a nice place with a charming, breezy atmosphere perfect for tourists. Instead it was a run down dive frequented by locals (and we think several lesbians, too, as one woman told mom- with a much too mischievous grin- that she was so hot she was about to take her shirt off). The shack was dimly lit and loud, and a server rushed by saying he’d be right with us and that we’d “better get a drink”. Blue paint flaked off the table tops, and our uneven chairs were undoubtedly salvaged from the dump. Christmas lights and neon beer signs decorated the knotty wood walls. Steps away from the screened porch door the waves rippled up the sand. With every sip of my Reisling, I became more and more chatty, spilling to my momma all the inside jokes and mundane memories that make me smile most.

I adored every minute of that dinner in that lopsided beach shanty.  The food was delicious and the company, my favorite. I’ve always had a silly longing to eat at a rundown coastal dive favored only by local hodads. It seemed like an essential part of beach life, and I couldn’t call myself a true beach bum until I’d experienced it. And finally, with my momma, there on Tybee Island, I did. Laugh if you will, but it was everything I’d hoped it’d be.

Time spent with my momma and sister (who dropped by on Sunday) keeps me young at heart, but unfortunately I realized this weekend that I have crossed the threshold into “old” territory. I submit as evidence:

1.      Getting in the bed at 8:00 and falling asleep by 8:30, despite being on vacation.

2.      Achieving a hangover after consuming only two 5oz glasses of wine.

3.      Waking, showering, packing, and being ready to head out the door 4 hours before checkout (without being prompted!).

There’s no room for dispute; I’m an old fart at 28.

Yeah, vacations aren’t ever long enough. Neither are trips home. I always return to North Georgia homesick and yearning for flat cotton fields, gnat kisses, early morning TV with mom in her bed, an afternoon hour spent on Mamaw’s couch, a Cracker Barrel breakfast with my sister-in-law, my daddy’s infectious smile, and conversations with my often inappropriate siblings. But I’m thankful for the time I do get to spend down there and for opportunities like this weekend that bring me closer to my mom and remind me of what an extraordinary lady she is. She’s my idol, and I love her.

I hope you all had a lovely weekend too. See you back in the grind!  



It's Tybee time, Dah'ling.





Insert smart ass caption here. (Anything I say will make Gracie mad, hehe).





Channeling Dwayne Wayne.

 


These pants looked amazing on Mom. She refused to buy them!



Mom loves a rotating door almost as much as a round about. We had to limit her to only three loops around at a time.



It looks deceivingly warm, doesn't it?



Happy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day, dear readers. I hope this day overflows with love and connection to those you hold dear, and I hope that you cultivate those things every day following as well. Open your heart both emotionally and physically and embrace the vulnerability that comes with it. Pour out compassion and generosity without thought to what may happen or what you may get in return. Love, in all its forms is powerful stuff and really does have the capacity to heal people and change lives, even the world. So practice it, grow it, and revel in it.

Today is my Friday for the week. Momma, my sister, and I are headed to Tybee Island this weekend as our reward for completing the Whole30. Not bad, huh? As a result I'll be off the grid until Tuesday, soaking up sun and simmering my creative juices. Until then, I leave you with this.

Smiles and much love to you all!

The 5 Ingredients of Habit Change

I’m a slow reader. It takes me a good while to wade through most books. If I didn’t care so much about sleep, I would stay awake all night reading, but out of compassion for those who spend their day with me I opt to get my zzz’s. As a result, I’ve only completed a third of The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg; however, I now have a clear understanding of how habits work and what is required to change them.

As I mentioned in a previous post, habits follow a loop consisting of a cue, a routine, and a reward. Duhigg explains that you cannot eradicate an old habit, but you can change it. All you have to do is change your routine. Sounds far too easy, doesn’t it? Indeed, it’s easier said than done, but with our focus being solely on changing the routine, it makes the process a tad more plausible. Our cue will remain the same, and our reward will remain the same. How we go about achieving that reward will change.

Take my bingeing for example. Say I’m angry because someone knocked over my dumpster and spilled trash all over my driveway. I need an outlet to release and soothe my anger so I turn to my routine of bingeing. Through the crunching and rapid movement of my jaw and the surge of endorphins from excess sugar I become calm and soothed. After that reward comes a punishment of more anger, guilt, bloating, and an upset stomach. Clearly nothing about this current habit is beneficial, and I desperately want to change it. The thing is anger will always be a cue, and finding calm will always be the reward so I do my work with the routine. The next time anger arises, instead of bingeing I make a conscious decision to go beat the tar out of the punching bag at the gym. Or I meditate and breathe, sitting with the anger until it subsides.



Inner circle says "Craving for relief"

Changing habits takes deliberate action, and deliberate action can seem daunting (to me, at least) Then I realized I’d already exercised this recently in my own life. When I started the Whole30, I didn’t want to look at my body’s reflection so I covered all the mirrors in my home except for the one in my husband’s bathroom. I avoided that room for the most part, but some mornings I needed something out of there (my husband hoards all the q-tips). Every time I stepped into the bathroom I purposely took my gaze to the floor and avoided the mirror. It was tempting to lift my head and look, but I never once did. That’s what habit change requires: commitment to an action or new routine and executing it with focused intention.

There are two other necessities for habit change aside from the cue, routine, and reward. The first is the belief that you can change. It is essential to know that changing your habits is possible and to cling to hope that you will succeed in that change no matter how many times you get derailed. Visualization also helps and is touted by everyone from weight loss experts to Olympic athletes. See yourself engaging in the new habit. Imagine how it feels completing the actions and what emotions rise as you do. Visualizing your success helps you to achieve success. Second, you need support. You need someone or several someones who can encourage and motivate you and can relate to what you’re trying to do.

Duhigg cites the success of Alcoholics Anonymous when discussing these last two necessities. The second step of the 12 step program states, “[We] Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” This is a key factor to the sobriety of many an alcoholic so is the support from individual sponsors and peers who attend the meetings. Likewise changing your own habits, whether they be as small as no longer biting your finger nails or as large as quitting smoking, require belief and support to be mastered.

Do you feel like you just read a high school research paper? I'm sorry. But now you've got the ingredients so go whip up some positive change in your life! Have a wonderful Wednesday.

 Gratitude30: Today I'm thankful for:

• co-workers that make 9-5 bearable
• green tea
• people willing to listen to me ramble about the same thing several times over
• dedicated spin students who show up every week.
• reminiscing with an old friend

The life and times of a former wallflower (and perpetual introvert)

The other day I was asked by a friend if I had written a post about shyness yet. It hadn't occurred to me as material worth writing because I haven't felt shy in quite awhile. That got me wondering; why? What's changed in me that I'm no longer the silent chic at get-togethers, sitting alone, desperately trying to quash my social anxiety?

As a child I remember hiding behind my mother when anyone over the age of 12 tried to talk to me. Through grade school and middle school I never talked much. In fact the one time I distinctly remember being a Chatty Cathy was at recess one day while walking to the four square court with a friend. Half way there, she turned to me and said, "No offense, but shut up." I immediately zipped my mouth. I wasn't really angry or hurt by what she said. I simply didn't want to annoy her, or anyone else for that matter. That fear of annoying people stuck with me through high school and into college. I'd go to hangouts and parties and listen to people play verbal ping pong, bouncing topics and opinions back and forth. Sometimes, I had opinions too, but they never seemed worth interjecting into the conversation. Other times, I simply couldn't think of anything to say. Most things that popped into my head I shot down as stupid or not important enough. Almost always the conversations were so fast-paced, I felt as if speaking would be stepping into a busy freeway. I was bound to get stares or cause a wreck.

I was an introvert and the queen of wallflowers. I was always a bystander listening to people laugh and watching them have fun. That suited me. I wasn't trying to be a snob or condescending to anybody. I felt quite unequal to everyone else, and my biggest fear was being deemed as the girl with no personality. But how can you prove to people you've got personality when you rarely talk? And how can you force yourself to talk when the anxiety of speaking, even in mere groups of three persons,  nearly causes a panic attack?

I enjoy being an introvert. I like quiet moments with myself, taking time to center or tap into my creativity. I don't mind staying at home on a Friday night or spending long stretches of time alone. But growing up my introversion seemed like a punishment. I didn't want to be so quiet and solitary; it just didn't feel like that was who I really was. And I felt like I was missing out on lots of fun experiences. How many times had I wanted to get out on the dance floor at a middle school party or prom but didn't because I was too afraid to look like a fool?

I can recall periods of time throughout my adolescence where I blossomed a bit. Our high school youth group was close knit and lead by the best youth leader out there. In that group I felt relaxed and among equals (which is funny because I grew up with this group from birth so timing and age must have had a lot to do with it). But the beginning of college marked a bad breakup and a particularly unwise rebound (that spiraled way out of control), and through the course of those events, I retreated into my quiet and safe introverted world. Fast forward a few semesters to when I started working at the Hen House in the Statesboro Mall. For once in my life I had a solid group of girlfriends. We did everything together, and for one long semester I was the life of the party. I danced. I chatted up strangers. I made jokes and commanded the spotlight...I drank A LOT of alcohol. Then I met Blake, and I quit drinking and partying so much. And then I learned that one of our group felt that, "We can't do anything without Christan. She always has to be there. She always wants to be in on everything." Just like in grade school, I didn't want to annoy anybody so I quit hanging out with them so much. I had a new boyfriend so it was easy to politely decline an invite out and use him as an excuse. (Ah, so glad those college drama days are gone.)

Those instances in grade school and college where I opened up a bit only to be shot down may have hurt a bit at the time, but my bruised ego quickly healed, and I moved on. What really hurt was in 6th grade when our teacher had us list everyone's names on a sheet of paper and beside them write a favorable quality about that person. Meant as an encouragement and ego booster, my heart fell when I received my list and found that 5 of my fellow classmates could think of no better descriptor for me than "quiet". Something bland and generic like "nice" would have been fine, but "quiet" just made me feel like a loser. For some reason I saw it as a cut down, not a compliment. In September of last year, we did the same thing on the last weekend of our yoga training. We ladies had been together for nine long weekends, learning numerous, intimate details about each other and knitting unbreakable bonds. I was touched by all the generous descriptors people chose for me. And then, there, at the very bottom of the list, that five letter word mocked me. Quiet. Really? Really?! Granted,  I can't deny that I was quiet. I didn't run off at the mouth every weekend, but I did open up numerous times, and the best this person could muster was "quiet"? I wanted to toss my blocks in the air, knock over the incense with my mat, and pad, barefoot, out of there. It's silly that something so little can sting so much, but I guess in a way (now with a more grown up perspective) I took it as, "You have no personality. After all this time the best I can say about you is that you don't talk much." I know that's reading a lot into just one word, and I know that is probably not at all how it was meant, but that's how my convoluted ego took it.

Ok so let's recap. I've been shy since birth, painfully so as a youngster, and waffling in and out of it during middle, high school, and college. I was a wallflower, content to observe (unless, of course, alcohol was involved). If you looked up "introvert" in the dictionary, my picture would be there. Apparently, my picture is also by the word "quiet".

As the last couple of years have gone by, I find myself opening up more and more. With age I've realized that it's more fun to be out on the dance floor than sipping punch alone at a table, in fact, now, you can't drag me away if there's music playing. I'm more confident in who I am and what I believe, making it easier to use my voice. But in addition to more candles on my cake, one of the key factors to shedding my shyness has been teaching spin and yoga.

For years I showed up religiously for spin classes at 180Fitness down in the 'Boro. The music, and beats, and sweat made me come alive. I felt empowered and carefree climbing imaginary hills and coasting over flat plains. Eventually, just taking the class wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed to teach. So when I was laid off from Regions Bank in 2011, I took the opportunity to go get certified. The very next weekend after spin training, I dipped my toes into a level one yoga training. Yoga hadn't been on my radar, but the gym owner in Ringgold said he desperately needed a yoga teacher, and if I wanted guaranteed classes, that's what I needed to get certified in. Two months later walked into the gym prepared to teach my very first classes. I had never been so nervous in my life. I, the silent introvert (who quite possibly chose my creative writing major because it was the only one that didn't require public speaking courses), was about to get in front of several strange faces and have every pair of eyes on me for the next two hours. I was terrified, and I was sick as a dog with a vicious cold. My voice lasted through spin class but disappeared when it was time for yoga. I rasped alignment cues into the mic, but by the look of amusement on my husband's face and the look of pity on my cousin's face, it was evident that speaking was useless. All I could do was perform the poses and hope that the students could follow along as much as possible. Believe it or not, people came back for the second week.

It took a solid 9 months for the anxiety of teaching to subside. Getting on the bike and mat were never a problem. Just as when I took the classes as a student, I come alive when I teach. I whoop and holler, sing and dance, make jokes, growl. In yoga, I try to shed any preconceived notions of how I should teach and what I should say and just go in with the hope of helping someone find serenity, or courage, or strength, or release. Still, the hours before class fill me with nervousness. In those first 9 months it was almost debilitating, and I debated quitting several times. Now, I realize the person I am when I teach is the person who is closest to my true self. And the more I teach, the more that person branches out into other areas of my life. I talk a bit more in groups. I instigate conversations. I laugh loudly. I share my opinions. I still keep to myself at times. I still crawl inside and enjoy my own little world, but I realize that there's so much to enjoy in the outside world too. There's much to experience and much to enjoy, and I don't want to miss out. So I take a step or two outside of my comfort zone. As a result, the zone begins to grow, and so I take another step outside, over and over. The things that I love and am most comfortable with now, I couldn't have fathomed doing ten years ago. Just imagine what I'll be doing in another ten years. Giving author's lectures? Running my own gym? Leading mass yoga practices in Coolidge Park? I can't wait to find out.

Gratitude 30:

• Small, unexpected, just because gifts
• Dogs in yoga poses. Seriously hilarious.
• Being bitten by the DIY bug. 4th chakra charm bracelets anyone?
• 4 for a $1 packets of seeds. My spring garden's gonna rock.
• Being able to make someone's day (actually she said I made her year!). That one seems a little selfish, but it felt really good to see that huge smile on her face.

All or Nothing

Sometimes I feel as if I have two separate selves. The first is methodical, organized, constantly on the go from the moment I wake up until the moment I fall asleep. No minute of the day is unplanned. The second is a lot less ambitious. The second likes to lay on the couch, eat lots of chocolate, and procrastinate on things I need to do (and things I enjoy doing). The second is pretty much a sloth. No surprise that doer self takes charge during the week and my lazier self rules the weekend. Neither is inherently bad, but both go to such extremes that I really do feel like two completely different people.

I prefer my weekday self. I get boodles of items checked off my list and feel like my life is "together". But by the end of the week, I'm tired and irritated that I have no down time on week days to just sit and breathe. I guess I make up for it on the weekends because just about all I do is sit and breathe (and eat), and by the end of the weekend I'm disgusted that I've been so lazy and kicking myself for not working on class routines or getting a jump on blogging.

For awhile I've known the structure of the weekdays, centered around working full time, keeps me in accomplisher mode. Weekends, with their hours of free time are dangerous territory. The simple answer then is to just structure my weekends like I structure my weekdays, but there's something about micromanaging ever minute of my weekend that sends my inner child (or maybe my weekend sloth) into a tantrum. Scheduled weekend mornings aren't so bad. I can knock out cleaning, laundry, and walking the dog or going to the grocery store, but the afternoons are tougher. Who wants to say "Saturday afternoon. At 1:00 I will do yoga prep. At 2:00- spin prep. 3:00- read/nap. 4:00- wash and clean my car. 5:00- Blog. 6:00 ???"

Granted it doesn't sound so bad written out, but I don't want to live my whole life by a schedule. Then again a little structure on the weekends my help me to find that balance I crave. Maybe my weekend self is more like a little child who wants to be able to whatever I want whenever I want, and maybe my weekday self is more the over taxed mom who knows best. When I have a more slothful weekend, it makes for a miserable Monday. When I add a little structure (not going overboard, but keeping myself on track), I'm much happier come the start of the week.

See, dangit. I know what I need to do. I know the things that work for me and that keep me on an even keel. Why then is it so hard to do them? I know I'm not alone. I'm sure everyone struggles with this to some degree whether over time management, or health, or just general happiness. I guess it's another stage of growing up. Or at least I hope it is. Maybe once I hit my 30's I won't be so stubborn and resistant to doing what's best for me. Or maybe it's something that evolves as I grow older. Maybe one day, I'll find the balance of my two selves by adding a little structure during the weekend and adding a little play during the week, but something else prove to be a booger.

Oh, I feel whiny today, and I don't like it so let's end this on a positive note.

Gratitude30- not sure of the day

• my hardworking hubby passing swat school! YAY!!!!!!
• getting to spend lots of quality time with a very happy hubby
• subbing for the favorite teachers at the gym. Their classes are always full so it gives me a chance to get my name out to a lot of new people
• a vacuum that thankfully can dominate all the hair my dog sheds.
• the pleasure derived from buying a book, a real book from a bookstore, and that musty new book smell

Have a great Monday!

Avocado- the other green goddess

It's Friday!!!! No other words are needed. The song says it all :)

 

 

When I was young the only thing about avocados I cared for was the pit. I loved rolling the smooth orb between my palms and across my lips. Now, I've cornered the market on avocados. Every week I buy a huge bag and devour them as they ripen during the week. My preferred method of eating is slicing one in half and eating spoonfuls, scraping the rind the rind when I'm done, but I think it's time I branch out a bit. Here's what I'll be eating this weekend:

 

BAKED EGGS IN AVOCADOS

 

I found this on Pinterest, but the link was to a Tumblr, and after scrolling several pages and not finding a recipe I gave up. I know, I'm lazy. However, I have heard of cooking eggs in muffin tins so I'm going to use the same heat and time used for those to cook these babies.

 

Ingredients:

1 avocado sliced in half, pit removed

2 eggs

Seasonings of choice

 

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Break eggs and dump one into each center of the avocado halves.

Season to your liking.

Bake in oven 8-10 mintes until eggs are cooked as desired.

Too easy!

 

BAKED AVOCADO FRIES

 



 

Another Pinterest find, but this one did have a recipe (Yay!)

 

Ingredients:

1/4 cup flour

1 tsp salt

2 large eggs, beaten

1 1/4 cups panko (Japanese bread crumbs)
2 firm-ripe medium avocados, pitted, peeled, and sliced into 1/2-in. wedges
Grated parmesan for serving (optional) Mary Note: Not optional in my opinion

Directions:
Preheat oven to 450.
Coat avocado slices in the four, then egg, then panko. Spread on a cooling rack that has been sprayed with non-stick spray, then place on a cookie sheet. Spray the top of the wedges with olive oil and sprinkle with salt, then bake for about 20 minutes at 450, or until they are golden brown (I turned my oven up to 500 for the last 5 minutes).

To make these Paleo/Whole30 friendly substitue almond flour for the regular flour (I found Bob's Red Mill brand at Walmart). I'm also going to substitute the panko with finely shredded unsweeted coconut. It should give the fries the same texture and a little extra tang.

Weekend mornings aren't complete without a comforting breakfast. I'm a huge fan of these almond butter pancakes from Detoxinista.com (Swap the the applesauce with pureed pumkin for a twist or add a touch of honey if you want them a tad sweeter.) But lately I've been jonesing for some granola. I picked up some slivered almonds, chopped pecans, sunflower seeds, and macadamia from the store and plan on mixing those with coconut flakes, unsweetened banana chips, and a few raisins. I'm thinking a half a cup of each item (except for the raisins) stirred together and lightly toasted in the oven. Maybe a small drizzle of honey on top. Served with almond or coconut milk. A high fat meal it may be, but remember plant based fats such as nuts, seed, and coconut are extremely beneficial for our bodies and health. Also this dish is very low in sugar, depending, of course, on the amount of raisins and honey you use. Most importantly though, it's a satisfying breakfast with the crunch of granola and it's 100% whole, unprocessed. Doesn't get any better than that.

Hope you all have a great day. Groove. Dance. Try a new recipe this weekend a let me know about it.  Here's my list for Gratitude30 day 4:

• Budding yogis who are eager to learn and leave class with visibly relaxed bodies and peaceful smiles.
• Sales on items I need that coincide with a $10 off coupon I've got. Saving beaucoups is always a treat.
• Hot showers
• Friendly neighbors who are always willing to help us out, whether it be moving a couch or checking on the dog.
• Really comfy yoga pants, which are going to double as tights with boots pulled over them tomorrow.

The perpetual student- never stop learning

One of my readers wrote, "Dear Weezy, please come back and post on Wednesday's. I love your wit and charm. Christan's cool and all, but I want to know more about you! Please keep writing, Weezy."

Ok, that was really me, but I know you feel the same way! And I kind of like the mid-week blogging break. It gives me a chance to come up with some meaty content  rather than just dashing something off quick, like in the case of this morning (sorry, peeps.).

So I had sushi with a dear, rockin' yogi friend last night, and she let me in on a great yogi blog/vlog idea she's been mulling over in her head for the last several months. I won't reveal anything more except to say that there's nothing of this kind in the yoga industry yet, and we have just the right resources to get it off the ground and (fingers crossed) make it something big. I've always had the sense that my purpose in life would involve something on the grand scale. Not like being rich or famous but creating and doing something that affects a lot of people. Maybe, just maybe this idea is the venue for that purpose.

I was so stoked listening to her speak last night, that I didn't remember sushi is made with rice (duh!). The word and images it brings are so clean and simple that my brain just didn't catch it. (Note: After last weekend's smorgasbord and the resulting dark pit of sorrow I found myself in Monday morning, I decided it was best for me to stick to Paleo/Whole30 principles, but more on that in a sec.)
When my plate arrived, piled high with California Roll (I'm too chicken to try the real stuff) I finally registered the rice. Crap, was my first thought, and then I decided to use it as a introduction experiment. So I ate it, every last bit of it including the wasabi, and afterwards and this morning I feel totally fine. Bonus, I've got completely clear sinus cavities.

I haven't followed the reintroduction plan I gave you at all, which, to be honest, I'm not really worried about. After eating so many off plan foods all together this weekend, I couldn't help but notice that physically I didn't feel different at all. I ate a bit of everything-- peanuts, ice cream, dried fruit, other sugary confections, bread and croutons, blue cheese dressing, some chips and hot dogs, etc, etc. The only food group I didn't touch was beans, and that was because we don't have any in the house. I'd assume that spread would give anyone a serious belly ache, but for some reason I was spared. I can't decide if that's good or bad. Good, maybe, because I can probably eat these things in moderation and my body and health would be ok. Bad, maybe, because I have no control when it comes to these foods, and the green light to eat them could become a trigger for more binges.

What I wasn't spared was onslaught of guilt, shame, and depression (as evidenced by Monday's post, whew!) If I had any sick leave stored up, I would have called in so I could lie in my bed all day. It's crazy that something like a binge can knock a person down so low. It doesn't make sense even to me, but maybe it gives you a small idea of the strangling death grip an eating disorder can have on a person.

Anyway, later that afternoon, on the same lovely jog I posted about yesterday, I decided I don't want to experience those debilitating emotions anymore. I want to live my life with happiness, centered peace, energy, and health. It's my choice. The guilt and shame is not forced on me, and I've got all the tools I need to live in the balanced state that I want. I just spent all of January finding that place. Following the Whole30 got me there so I think the best, most logical thing for me to do is to continue following those principles. I felt my best when doing the Whole30 so why stop it now? Granted, like momma said before, there will be birthdays, dinner dates, and other occasions where I want to enjoy things off plan, and that will be ok. The key will be guarding myself from falling for my triggers.

Fighting the triggers will take work. It will require changing my habits, but as I am learning from reading The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg, changing those habits is absolutely possible. May not be easy peasy, but it can be done. All habits run a cycle of cue, routine, and reward. The triggers (certain foods, situations, emotions) are my cues. The bingeing is my routine, and the reward is the momentary relief from stress, boredom, anxiety, emptiness (my list could go on forever). The work will require developing new habits based on new cues and routines for the reward of centered-ness, happiness, and energy. As these new habits grow and become ingrained in my basal ganglia (don't I sound smart?) the old habits will undergo extinction (which is a tricky term because they don't actually disappear from my habit warehouse, they just get stuffed in the far back corner)....You should really read the book. It's pretty fascinating.

I'll leave you to your Wednesday, but first :
Today, I'm grateful for:

• Four hours of sleep last night. Hey, it's better than none!
• Chic glasses that correct my blurry vision and help me read the computer screen. I bet optometrists are very thankful that our noses are in technology screens all day.
• Dinner dates with Ms. Jimmie. That girl can get anyone excited with her infectious energy.
• Again, my husband for all the texts, Facebook posts, and phone calls during the day that let me know I'm on his mind.
• My kick a**, rockin', nutty family. Mom, Dad, Mamaw, Papa, my brothers and their beautiful wives, my perfect new niece, my sister who writes this sassy blog (God broke the mold after her), every aunt and uncle and cousin who, frankly, are beyond compare. Yes, I am a homebody, a family girl, and these people are the reason why :)

The body speaks

The soles of my sneakers skim the gravel, scuffing my slow pace down the river trail. My legs scissor back and forth, and heat rises from my core. Exhales escape my lips in tiny, visible puffs. I follow Landi's lead through the congregation of naked trees. A cardinal and black bird duo inspect the vacant twig and twine homes nestled in the highest branches. The sky, veiled in a low gray mist, dulls neither the shock of green moss on the river bank nor the turquoise lichen ruffled around the skinny oak trunks. We slide through mud and plod over patches of clover; the gurgle of the river our play list.

Here, my mind quiets for a moment and allows my body to voice that which needs to be spoken. Emotions-- anger, sorrow, shame-- rise to be acknowledged, then quietly fall away. Peace and clarity take root and bud within me. Answers aren't revealed, but the path to follow is lit, and the underbrush is cut.

For a brief two miles I am able to get outside of my head. I bypass the rushing thoughts and just am. I exist. I move through nature, and for the moment that is all there is and all I need. Often this is the solution my body and soul crave, yet it is always my last resort. For me, movement is the key to accessing this solution. A walking meditation, slow run, or languid yin yoga centers my soul and quiets my mind. The organic movement finds my body's foundation and reinforces its structure. I emerge with solace, comforted and connected.

Why am I so resistant to this way of healing even though I know it will work? I think there's a discomfort in the thought of slowing down. Our fast paced, instant gratification society has us going 90 to nothing nearly every moment of our day. Even when lounge on the couch watching TV, most of us are eating, texting, and checking Facebook at the same time. Multi-tasking is encouraged. "On the go" is a requirement for meals. Work bleeds into our off time. Our off time is reigned by "To do" lists. We all want to be healthy and stay in shape, but most of us are so wound up that a leisurely walk or slow, deep yoga won't cut it. Where's the workout in that? We need to burn as many calories as possible, and we've only got one hour to do it so bring on the spin, the kickboxing, the cardioblast fat attack! I'm guilty of this. Even after a life changing 200 hour yoga training course, I would still rather curl dumbbells than flow around on my mat.

When we choose to slow our bodies down for yin yoga or meditation, a walk or slow run, two things can happen. Either our thoughts fail to get the memo and keep running the hamster wheel or they follow suit...and things start to come up. Emotions that we've buried deep into the recesses of our bodies dig their way to the surface. We recall situations that we thought were long behind us and relive the hurt, the guilt, the anger, awkwardness, or even happiness of that moment. I know several yogis who have a love/hate relationship with their mat. It's where all your crap comes back to haunt you but also where you acknowledge, work through, and make peace with that crap too. It's where you find you-- all the good, bad, and ugly of you.

Slowing down and embracing the largo tempo with our bodies will eventually train our minds to do so as well. When that happens we find the solace of stillness. In that stillness your body and soul will speak, and your mind will be ready to listen.

During my quiet jog, I realized I don't want to do a Fitness30. Not right now anyway. Instead I need to focus on meditation and gratitude. I need to train my mind to see all the beauty in life and the silver linings present on even the darkest days. I need to shed the ego that wrecks my attitude, peel back my layers, and quiet my mind, and I need to be constantly conscious and thankful of all the many blessings in my life. So my goal is 5 minutes of meditation each morning and writing down 5 things I'm grateful for each night. Every day for 30 days. You are welcome to join me. When you wake in the morning, simply sit up in your bed, place a pillow under your hips, and sit, with eyes closed, in stillness and silence. Breathe. Acknowledge any thoughts and then let them pass on. Or pray (I almost always start with focus on my breath and somehow end up in prayer). At the end of the day, take a journal and list 5 things you're grateful for. Or post them in the comments of that day's blog. I'd love for you to share them with me.

Today, I am grateful for:

• a precious pup, who gives me stinky kisses, smiles and twirls in mid air at the word "walk", and prances effortlessly down the trail while I huff and puff.
• strong legs and enough lung capacity to keep me moving for 2 miles when I've done nothing physical but teach for the last several weeks.
• a husband who continuously tries to better himself in his career. Some endeavors may scare me, but he distinguishes himself daily, and when the time comes his talents and abilities will serve him well
• nature. Gorgeous, peaceful, bright, breath-taking nature created by God. Such beauty does not just happen, nor does the healing and rejuvenating of the soul it brings.
• the fluffy towel, fresh from the dryer, that I dried my face with this morning. It seriously felt like angel wings were whisping against my cheeks. Ahhhh....

Love to you all.
Christan

"Beyonce has thunder thighs": Things that piss me off

I know some of you think that I'm too hard on myself, and that I beat myself up too much. Ok, I'll give that to you, but I have to confess that I feel like a fraud. Saturday night and the entirity of yesterday were one long food fest, not on olives and fruit this time, but on all the junk I just spent 30 days cleaning out of my system. It's like the Whole30 was a dream, and I'm right back where I started. That includes picking myself back up this fine Monday morning, eating 100% paleo (or Whole30 compliant), and getting back to my workouts, but what about next weekend? I was afraid I would just fall back into the same patterns. Did I sabotage myself with that fear, making it a reality? Was it inevitable? Somewhere in the midst of the Whole30 I found hope that I could be normal, and that this eating disorder bull shit might be behind me. But I was wrong. I was so wrong.

It's mornings like these that I think I need to go back into treatment. Every time I slide back, it just gets harder and harder to climb back up the mountain. I get down on my hands and knees inthe dirt and mud, clawing to the top. I put on a brave face and a fake smile, and I go about my day like I'm ok, but I don't feel ok. I feel forever damned to deal with this, and it's wearing me down. One has to eat to live. Every dams day we have to eat, and every day I am either proud of myself for eating "well" or hating myself for letting Ed get the better of me.

I can't go on because... because it's just food. It's just damn food. And people, no matter their best intentions, simply don't understand. Damnit, I don't understand. And if I continue you might realize that I'm not so put together and inspirational as you thought. That I'm sitting at this computer sobbing because my demons continue to get the better of me, and on this morning I just feel hopeless. (NOT harmful! but hopeless).

But I will take a moment and get angry. After Beyonce's performance last night (and let's be honest: in today's world of entertainment which is driven solely by $ signs, that performance was the most talent filled, least sleazy you're going to find. She may have been scantily clad, but calling her a "whore" or "stripper", which several Facebook members did, is uncalled for. She could have had much less on and gotten far more raunchy with her dance moves. The Super Bowl half time show is not going to one that your 5 year old can watch. They tried having "The Who" and other bands of the like play before, and the half time ratings tanked. You know what happened last year when Madonna performed? 3 million more people tuned in to watch the half time show than did the game. I can guarantee you even more than that tuned in to watch Beyonce. Which means lots and lots of money for all those bigwigs. And Beyonce gave you a show without any middle fingers flying up at the camera, without any wardrobe malfunctions, and she even reunited Destiny's Child! 90's girls' lives are complete! Maybe it wasn't your cup of tea, and I understand that, but all this hate being slung Beyonce's way is ridiculous and disrespectful. Personally, I think she killed it....Ok, wow, end that rant, haha.) Anyway, as I was saying, after Beyonce's performance last night, one of my Facebook friends posted, "Beyonce got out with her Thunder Thighs. Not a bad thing, but she better watch it. Those things could get out of hand fast" (he has since removed the post).

These are "thunder thighs". Ladies, we are screwed.

 I did not see an ounce of fat on Beyonce's thighs, and we got to see the entire freaking thigh. I didn't see any jiggle or any reason why her thighs could be termed "Thunder Thighs". Are you kidding me? If those are thunder thighs, then I have elephant hocks. And compare a photo of Beyonce from last night to photos of her from a few years ago, and you can tell that the girl has lost some weight and tightened and toned those legs already. It probably wasn't easy for her to do. Legs aren't known for their willingness to shape up easily. But now, according to this insensitive pig, she's got to keep patrol on her thighs because heaven forbid they get out of hand? You are pathetic, sir. You are the reason that women every where are eaten alive with body image issues. Why numerous women don't feel secure with their bodies and could never dream of flaunting their shit like Ms. B. Because assholes like you are out there critiquing every inch of our bodies. EVEN when we look damn good. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Beyonce's body last night, and she still got an ultimatum. Not from media, not from magazines, but from an idiotic, home grown, corn in his blood, (supposed to be a) good ol' country boy. Watch out sir, I come home to Statesboro in two weeks, and I'm bringing a bathing suit, and I will parade my dimply, jiggly thighs all over the place just to terrorize you. Mine are definitly "out of hand" compared to Beyonce's. They will give you nightmares.

Ok. I'm done. I went from sobbing to seething in .05 seconds. That's probably why my hubbby thinks I'm nuts (in a loving way, of course)....

Whole30 and Beyond: Keep the challenges coming

For the next two weeks my hubby will hone his innate talent for running straight toward danger. Why he wants to tango with the craziest of the crazies is beyond me. He tries to convince me that this new endeavor is far safer than his day job, but I'm not easily swayed. "Out of sight, out of mind" is the only way I can make it through the day without the paralyzing fear that he won't come home. So while he's training and getting verbally abused by NCOs with pent up aggression, I've decided to do a TV cleanse. No tube for two weeks. That means a Netflix marathon is in store. I have to plow through the first season of Scandal before Monday!

For the past year we've only had Netflix, but back around the holidays I got wrangled into buying DirectTV (missing an entire season of Walking Dead left a void in my husband's soul). The petite blond behind the table in the middle of the Walmart aisle buttered me up like a steamy cornbread muffin. Compliments oozed from her lips as did laments that she hadn't met her quota for the day. Sucker that I am, I signed the contract.

Now I come home in the evenings and instead of pampering myself by reading a book or slipping into a bubble bath, I plop down on the couch and mindlessly flip through the channels. There's never anything that I particularly care to watch, unless of course it's Tuesday or Wednesday when back to back Castle is on (I blame my mother-in-law for getting me hooked).

Ok, ok. It was Nathan Fillion that got me hooked.

I've been staying up later and later each night vegging when I should be sleeping, or reading, writing, and prepping for my classes so I think a TV detox is in order. I want to see just how much I can accomplish and how much I can enrich my life without the constant murmur of sitcoms in the background. Of course I won't start until after the Superbowl tomorrow night!

So I was thinking....
I thoroughly enjoyed the Whole30. I found the structure of the program easy to follow and extremely helpful for trying to improve old habits and ingrain new ones. The principles aren't limited to just nutrition. We can take the Whole30 premise and apply it to any goal or habit we want to achieve. It may seem a bit ambitious, but I want to hone a new habit every month. The beauty of tailoring the program to other challenges is that they won't be nearly as intense or quite the overhaul as the original Whole30.

For example, after revamping our nutrition, the next most logical goal to achieve would be a daily fitness habit. Start a Fitness30 and commit to 15 minutes of heart pumping movement for 30 days. You could exercise for 30 minutes or an hour if you wanted to, but keep the base goal small and attainable. Trust me, on days you want to be a total slug, 30 minutes will seem like an eternity, whereas 15 is doable. Shoot for engaging in as many different types of exercise as possible. Walk. Run. Dance. Practice yoga or pilates. Do plyometrics. Take a spin class. Lift weights. Swing kettle bells. Kick box. Swim. Stretch. Take advantage of gyms and studios that offer a free first class. Hike. Kayak. Climb a rock wall. Practice agility drills. Pretend you're in boot camp. Dabble in Crossfit. Try a barre class, and aerial acrobatics class, or stand up paddle boarding. Look on YouTube for videos of just about any exercise fad you can think of. Try the quickie workouts pinned on Pinterest. Search Meetup.com for active groups in your city....That's enough suggestions to have you doing something different every single day. You'll never get bored!

We don't have to limit ourselves to improving our bodies and health. Here are some other 30 day challenges you could try:

• Meditation30- 5 minutes of meditation every day
• Reading30- read for 15 minutes every day
• DIY30- work on a DIY project or some other creative venture for 15 minutes a day
• Yoga30- 5 yoga poses a day
• Gratitude30- Keep a gratitude journal and write down 3 things you are grateful for every day.
• Giving30- 30 days of simple acts of giving (not limited just to gifts- think giving of your time, a hug, a listening ear)
• Contact30- write a letter, make a call, send a text, meet a friend every day (with the same person every day or different people every day)
• Savings30- Stash $5 in a jar every day or buy only the absolute necessities for a month. See how much you save.
• Pamper30- love and pamper yourself every day for 30 days. It doesn't have to cost money. Take bubble bath, paint your nails, slather your hair in coconut oil as a moisturizing mask, exfoliate with a coffee grinds/coconut oil mixture (my own concoction- I like to think that the caffeine in the coffee helps with cellulite!), read, go to bed early, eat some decadent dark chocolate....
• Sleep30- get your 8 hours every night. No excuses.

I've become very curious about habits. What causes them? How can we break them? How can we develop and stick to new ones? There's a lot more to it than just invoking a little will power. I haven't done much research yet, but I do want to read The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg. Zenhabits.net also offers a wealth of info on ways to develop and stick to habits, all while staying calm and centered. Check out this post and this post, and I'll keep you updated as I learn more about all the inner workings of habits.

So now that I've committed to a Fitness30 in front of all of you, I better get my booty out there and get moving! Have a wonderful weekend, loves.

Christan