Category Archives: self improved
Hearing the most important voice
14 CommentsI did something yesterday that I sincerely hope I remember to never do again – I bought a fully processed and synthetic lunch because I had failed to prepare my own. What seemed like a good idea at the time came back to haunt me a few hours later when every part of my body screamed in disgust.
Recently I have been very smart about my food choices. With only the occasional “treat”, I have been preparing all of my own meals so I know exactly what my body is ingesting and I have really enjoyed cooking again and experimenting in the kitchen. The only processed items that have passed my lips are the ones that I have processed myself so I know what kind of food is in my food. My body made it abundantly clear today that it will no longer put up with my bad choices and laziness when it comes to preparing my own meals.
It is simple to adhere to a proper diet when you take a few moments to prepare in advance. I love when I have a full day in the kitchen and am able to think ahead about what I want to use to fuel my body for the coming week. I make all of my own soups and freeze them so I am not overwhelmed by the hidden sodium and preservatives in canned soups. I make ‘Salad-in-a-Jar’ for each day of the week and sometimes even prepare sectioned grapefruit or ‘Refrigerator Oatmeal’ for breakfasts. It takes the guess-work and stress out of having to prepare meals each morning for the work day ahead and it can prevent those bad choices when you are hungry and pressed for time.
Salad in a jar was an amazing discovery for me. I bought a case of Mason Jars and made a week’s worth of salads for lunch. Each day I opened a jar onto a plate, the lettuce was still crisp and it was a quick way to have a healthy lunch. For those of you who may have heard of these but never tried them, I urge you to buy some jars and spend and hour on the weekend making your lunches for a week. Knowing those go-to lunches are always there during your work week will alleviate the stress of wondering what you will eat at the office and you can add any ingredients you like to your salad.
I listened to my body today and got the message loud and clear. I’m not 25 anymore. I can’t just eat what is available and go about my day without ever giving it a second thought.
Your body’s voice is the most important voice you will ever hear and you should heed its advice. It will be more honest with you than any of your friends or your family and only has its best interest at heart.
I chose, but then I chose to choose again
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Life is about making choices. Every day we are presented with numerous situations in which we have to decide the outcome of the situation by using our instincts to make those choices.
I am certain I have made many choices that, given the chance to go back and do again, I would change at the drop of a hat. But making those choices has made me who I am today, warts and all. I learned a great deal about life and especially about myself by choosing the way I did. And I learned even more about me by giving myself permission to make the choice to choose again.
I chose to get married. It was a bad choice for me, given the circumstances, but it was a choice I needed to make to learn a very valuable lesson. After that lesson had a chance to penetrate my brain, I made the choice to not be married anymore. Some frowned on my choice without having understood how much that life was not meant for me. It was a road I needed to venture down, but it was also the path that showed me who I could be if I chose to finally put myself first. That was probably one of the first choices I ever made with only me in mind. I didn’t gauge how many others would be affected by my choice. I just chose to make myself happy without putting anyone else’s needs ahead of my own.
Just because you’ve chosen, doesn’t mean you can’t choose again. While your first choice may have seemed to be the one that was best for you, perhaps making the choice to choose again will be the choice that will make you the happiest. Life is not predictable and giving yourself permission to choose what is best for you should always be your first choice.
A little dab’ll do ya
12 CommentsAlthough this cute little catch phrase was originally used for Bryl Cream, it came rushing to the forefront of my mind when I passed a young man on his way into the grocery store as I was heading out. He was wearing SO much cologne that I actually began to gag on the way to my car. The scent permeated, not only my nostrils but, my taste buds and it eventually began to burn my throat. It was overwhelming. I guess he was never taught the old adage – a little goes a long way.
I may have a slightly tarnished view of this because I am allergic to perfume and cologne so any slight whiff affects my delicate sensibilities, but, even so, it was like watching the well-groomed version of Pig Pen from the Peanuts cartoon except the cloud was a film of cologne instead of his usual dust cloud.
I think Axe Body Spray for men, and any perfume or cologne companies for that matter, should adopt a new advertising campaign – commercials showing women and men running in horror from the noxious cloud created by those who don’t know when to say enough is enough when it comes to “dabbing” on that bit of fragrance.
For those of you fortunate enough to be able to wear your favorite scents, please remember – everything in moderation. A little dab really will do ya.
Getting to the root of the question
16 CommentsI am a natural brunette, or at least I was a natural brunette until sometime in my twenties. Like my grandmother, my hair started to age before its time and I began to notice more salt than pepper at the roots surrounding my face. I have been dying my hair since then because I refuse to go down the path of “aging gracefully” without a hearty fight.
Someone recently asked me what my natural hair color was and, after I finished giggling, I responded with “I’m guessing somewhere between alabaster and egg-shell white”. I still like to think the hair color that I have paid for on numerous occasions reflects the age I feel and not the age I should look when I am eighty.
When I was younger I remember hearing the belief that grey hair made men look distinguished but made women look old. Along with every other changing belief, this is an outdated way of thinking and there are many women disproving this theory at an alarming rate. One stand-out woman who takes grey hair to a new level of sexy is this woman.
Jamie Lee Curtis is 56 years old, a mere 10 years old than I am and she looks absolutely stunning having allowed herself to embrace the natural greying process. Since the length of my hair in the summer months is very similar to her pixie cut, I have been tempted many times to put the box of “natural” color back on the shelf and see just what color my hair really is at this stage in my life. Somehow those ‘Natural Instincts’ make their way to the counter every time.
Maybe when I hit that magic number, the big 5-0, perhaps then I will be ready to leave the color in the box, but until then it’s time to put those gloves back on and keep fighting the good fight.
The monsters in the closet of my mind
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There have been many writers before me who have been driven by the same demon. I love words. I love using them like paint and creating a wall of graffiti that truly represents me. I love to dip my fingers in those words and rub them on the wall with the freedom of a child learning how to paint.
Writing this blog has been such a wonderful experience for me. I can write each day about whatever my brain sees fit to write about that day. But the more time I spend with my blog, the less time I spend trying to struggle through that painful illness of writing my book.
Maybe this blog is teaching me something. Perhaps knowing I can devote time each day to my blog means that I am capable of changing that focus and spending the time trying to bring the characters of my novel to the finish line of their bizarre journey.
I get you, George. Time to face that Demon head-on!!
Who’s hiding behind your walls?
2 CommentsToday I have contributed a post at Stories That Must Not Die. It is a brief synopsis of alcoholism and growing up with two parents who were haunted by that very beast. Click here to read the story. My post here was prompted by the post at STMND combined with a conversation I had yesterday.
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There are moments that sneak up on you and make you realize how much a life growing up with two alcoholic parents has insidiously ingrained itself into your way of being. My endearing character traits and my flaws are directly related to the life I lived as a teenager and a young adult. If you read my post, you’ll understand that ours was a very loving home but I grew up much more quickly than I should have and learned, very young, how to build walls around myself. I created a hard outer shell to keep myself soft and emotional on the inside but tough on the outside.
It was during a very interesting conversation with a male friend yesterday that the subject of dating came up, specifically dating websites and the basic instincts of humans regarding the laws of attraction. He had taken a rudimentary stab at what qualities I would say I look for in a man and he was off the mark, but he was also guessing from a man’s perspective on what he thinks a woman would want based on the opposite of what a man would want.
I had all-but forgotten about the primal instincts of men and I am not saying that in a negative way. In my quest to protect myself and build my walls, I had potentially buried the softer, more feminine side of myself and let the tomboy be the dominant, protective personality. It was how a teenage mind dealt with a difficult situation and potentially how I have removed myself from the desirable end of the dating pool. That simple awareness was like an awakening. It is a rare but divine twist of fate that can take an outside force and use it to help you discover an inner truth.
Our conversation really opened my eyes. I will never try to be someone I am not just to go on a date but perhaps that little girl inside of me is a part of who I really am and I just never gave her a chance. I built my walls so high that she had no choice but to peer over them and wonder what was on the other side.
Walls are only effective if you know who you are protecting and who the real enemy is and, in this case, I became my own worst enemy. I may have protected myself from a big part of who I was really meant to be but at least there is still time to find her and give her a chance.
Removing the obstacles – a lesson in housekeeping
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I would never describe myself as a minimalist. I do love some of the comforts I have afforded myself. But the bits of collected stuff that seemed to have congested my life have been eradicated, tossed, vanquished.
I live in a small home that suits my needs and the needs of my dog. We have a vast amount of space outside and ample room inside to be quite comfortable. I have never been one to have rooms just for the sake of having rooms. Our life is simple, our life is comfortable and our life is manageable.
The largest room in our 600-square-foot home is the kitchen. This is why I chose this house. I remember standing on very high snow banks to peer into the windows before I began renting. As soon as I saw the kitchen, I knew this was meant to be my home. My kitchen is my haven. I love to bake and I love to cook. And even though I am currently cooking for one, creating food is a passion and not just a necessity. When I finally bought this home from my landlord, my renovation money was easily focused on the kitchen.
Over the years the clutter began to accumulate but, it wasn’t just the physical pieces that had been stashed into the corners, it was the collected bits of memories and regrets that had also been piling up in the invisible spaces in my house. These piles of intangible things had been standing between me and the life I was willing to move towards. It took a small dumpster and a great deal of courage to rid myself of the physical and mental obstacles in my life and be able to live free of the clutter that had been threatening to topple over and bury me under its weight.
After a few hundred dollars and several hours of intense labor, I was finally free of the clutter – all of the clutter. The physical reminders of a life that had failed and the mental reminders of things that were never meant to be were finally gone. For the first time in a long time, I felt free. I truly felt that the life I wanted now had a way to find me without having to circumvent all of the barriers I had created.
A little Spring cleaning can go a very long way and it can eventually clear the path that you were meant to follow.
If I lived in Boston, I would say Buddha is ‘wicked smaht’
19 CommentsI’m sure we can all recall the many times in our childhood we were told to treat people the way we would like to be treated. Do unto others. It made a great deal of sense, it still does, and made us all (hopefully) more socially responsible and more polite human beings.
But somewhere along the path of treating others with respect and courtesy we may have drained our personal well of kindness and empathy and saved very little compassion for ourselves. We spend so much time worrying about how we treat others that we fail to treat ourselves with the same dignity that we would impart to a stranger.
It is instinctual to be concerned for others, to help those who need our help, but how often do we reflect on our own needs and drink from our own well of compassion? We need our own help just as much as others may count on us for support. There is a vast difference between wallowing in self-pity and allowing yourself a few moments to feel the pain of what is bothering you, to process it and to understand that giving yourself time to heal is, not just okay but, a necessity.
We need to do unto ourselves and give the same common courtesy to ourselves that we were taught to give others. To do anything less would be a grave injustice. As Buddha so wisely says, it would make us incomplete. Denying ourselves that level of self-compassion makes us unworthy of being able to understand the message behind the emotion and renders us unable to truly share the gift of empathy.
It is better to give than to receive. But it is acceptable and necessary to give to ourselves as well as give to others. Compassion is not something you can only share with those around you. Compassion is meant to encompass everyone, including you.
Screw the other two percent!
15 CommentsI’ve finally gotten to the point in my life that I can be proud of my accomplishments instead of picking them apart to find the most minute flaw. My cake decorating days were rough! I would spend hours putting together a three-tier cake designed specifically to match the request of the bride and, although she thought it was perfect, I always found the tiniest blemish and was disappointed in myself for not making it perfect.
At least I know I came by this mental mutation honestly. When I was in high school I was a good student, especially in math. I would bring home a test with 98 percent and my dad thought it was funny to ask “what happened to the other 2 percent?” Despite the fact it was said as a joke, to an impressionable fourteen year old girl, it felt like a failure to me. Unfortunately I have carried this with me along the way and although it has made me strive for that 100 percent even more, it has also made me extremely self-critical.
With my writing, something is different. I have more confidence in my words than I have had in any other area of my life. Perhaps with age really does come a sort of wisdom, or just maybe that elusive two percent was never meant to cause me so much concern. Either way, I give myself that little punch on the arm when I’m really proud of something I’ve written, and not just in theory, I really punch myself in the arm…….
I hope you are able to be proud of your accomplishments. Your successes should never be measured by anyone other than yourself.
polysyllabic profundities 