This has been the summer of complete fucketry, basically translated as "fuck it all."
We have literally been non-stop since the beginning of June. We have been balls-out with work, new side projects, school, social events, family visiting, weddings, graduations, a very sad attempt at a garden, and maybe, just maybe a day here or there for a second to catch our breath, or catch up on sleep before we start all over again on Monday.
I feel like this summer just started and yet it is over. Wahhh. Someone even said the four-letter "S" word today. I killed them with my eyes. It's going too fast!! We have worked too hard and WAY too much this summer.
We have also had social obligations every weekend since June. With socialization, comes food and booze, and then more food and booze. I have eaten and drank everything in sight for pretty much the last 2.5 months. And by everything, I mean e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. Meat, yep, cheese, you betcha, sugar, sweets, potato chips, lobster, and even some gluten in there too (!!). And booze... I am secretly/publicly considering that I might have a problem (which I am only half joking), but seriously I have consumed unhealthy amounts of alcohol for 2.5 months straight. (Hey! It's summer - don't judge!) Like I said, it has been the summer of debauchery and fucketry, and I am doing it up proper. Hallelujah-er.
I said fuck it all over a month ago. Prior to that I was debauching partially and feeling guilty. Then one day I was tired of not eating at social events, and worrying, and trying to be "good," all the while trying to figure out what the hell I am doing with my life. Being on a "diet" while contemplating your life's purpose is kind of suicidal, just saying.
It is really hard to be stressed all the time and try to watch everything and anything that passed my lips, over analyzing my poops and perpetually more frequent gas. I think going to nutrition school makes you a crazy person. Try this. Try that. Don't eat this. Eat lots of that. Oh you know you really should.... no shouldn't..... AHHHHH.....all the while being super stressed about pretty much everything in my life and the directions I am taking, blahedy blah, blah. FUCK. IT. ALL!!
Said middle finger and all-consuming-debauchery has led to me feeling like an old, hungover, stiff, gassy, bloated, pooping problem, pimple-y, moody hag. Yewlp, that's me. All I do is eat, en masse and everything ever made, and drinking. Any excuse for a cocktail I will indulge (which is normally the case, but phew, I have even outdid myself) and oh yeah, I stopped working out consistently back in June too. I know, I know...recipe for disaster. Hi, my name is Recipe-for-Disaster.
I think honestly it was a valve waiting to burst. Between the strict diets corresponding with my course load, the multiple temptations at summer BBQs, insane amount of stress at work, training a new employee, going to school, starting a new business with a friend, while attempting to maintain some semblance of a social and family life, has led to this moment. Our garden is an embarrassment, divert your eyes, we were so defeated we just mowed the sucker down yesterday. To it all, I say fuck thee.
But you know what, I think this is natural. This is a huge, transitional, pivotal phase in my life. I have finally identified what I want to be doing with my life. I have 6 months left of school before I am a health coach. I will start working with an organization in the fall that I really believe in and feel I will make a huge difference in my community. I have given my current boss notice of my departure no later than the end of the year. My trainee will be done in a few weeks (phew!). I am starting another business on the side as supplement as well. And I know all my ups and downs with diet, and health, and nutrition, and exercise makes me human.
People assume health coaches are perfect green juice drinking, kale chewing, yogi-crazed, finger-waggers at those who are "bad," but let me tell you, that is not what a health coach is. I will never wave my finger at you. If anything, I will empathize with you and help you to learn to be easier on yourself. Because sometimes shit hits the fan and you feel you are running 800 miles an hour in a circle and you just grab what is around, and that is probably wine and potato chips (at least for me). We have to learn to forgive ourselves. To allow ourselves debauchery and fucketry (and maybe the gaining of 10 lbs. in 2 months, which will go away!), there is no sense to beat yourself over the reality of life.
Sometimes when it feels like a whirlwind, embrace it, let it happen, be part of it, even if drunk, and chubby, and zitty, because we all know what our individual equilibrium is. We all strive to maintain it, going off kilter is what makes us human, makes us real, and if anything should alert you to cut yourself some slack, because big things are a-comin' and a-changin'.
So here's a cheers to acknowledging what is real and to a few more weeks of the inevitably fucketry.
Showing posts with label LOLs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LOLs. Show all posts
Monday, August 17, 2015
Sunday, June 7, 2015
OMG I Didn't Die!
Last weekend was A's birthday and we decided to head to Portland to celebrate. We always talk about going, yet manage to watch months/years pass by before we make it down there. We manage a beach trip around my birthday at least once a year to Old Orchard, typically only stopping in Whole Foods, right off 295, for our coffees and snacks for the 3 hour ride home.
This time we went to Portland to do Portland proper. We stayed right in town, biting the bullet and paying the extra $100-ish to be within walking distance of everything, and have a water view! Oooo snazzy, right?! A man only turns 36 once!
A and I had not been to Portland in the proper-do-it-up-Portland-way since the food scene really burst. If you do not know, or have not heard (do you live in a cave?) Portland is food heaven. I want enough time, money and a-not-give-a-shit-attitude to get gargantuan fat on all the deliciousness that Portland has to offer. And in all my attempts to hit the best rated places and stay up to date with mutual foodie drooling friends, I always manage to be somewhat behind the newest gotta-go-there-place. Le sigh! If only someone wanted to fund my gluttonous happy growth into obesity. Any takers?
It is probably good we don't live in Portland. All income would go to food and booze. We love trying new food, seeing new restaurants. We love people watching with good cocktails and the options in Portland are endless.
There are my go-to favs that I had not had the chance to take A to yet. Like I said we are normally passing through, so either it is convenience over waiting in line, say at Duckfat (Drool! He STILL doesn't know what he is missing. I have tried to make him stand in the around-the-block-line 3 times now, each time he complains and doesn't want to wait....if ONLY he knew!!! How can anything ever not be worth a wait when it is fried/grilled in duck fat? Duck fat?! And Belgium fries, with sauces you want to slather all over your body and a cold brew...I can't! But apparently A can't wait in line long enough to get to the point of drooling, which inevitably happens when the name is even mentioned. If only he knew! And if only he would wait in the damn line!)
So although we didn't make it to Duckfat yet again, we made it our mission to gallivant around, try a drink and a nibble, at the places I wanted to take him to or those that caught our eye along the way. We were fat (in a reasonable, still gluttonous, but not protruding sort of a way. I realize gargantuan doesn't happen in one night (try as I might).) and well boozed by the end of the night.
It was SO much fun. Everything, as always, was amazing. Walter's calamari - oh yeah - "best calamari [he's] ever had!" Zapoteca's habanero watermelon margaritas, die! Salsas, so different and cool. Guac! ::drooly face:: Local 188 is always a great venue, great for people watching, awesome, quirky bartenders, AHmazing drinks (and food, which we didn't have this time). We visited so many other places they're starting to blend together. Mmmmm.
Oh and PS Portland has food trucks now, after last call, more gluttonous gluttony available all hours of the night. But I had one place in mind to fill the late night munchies - Otto's pizza. Drool. Sigh. Let me pause while I wipe my chin. I haven't been to Otto's since I went gluten free 4 years ago and even then, there was a lull between the cutting out of gluten and eating a slice of Otto's. If I had planned better, I would have gorged myself on a whole pie, probably died from suffocation or constipation, or both, but man I would have died happy.
Otto's pizza is my idea of a perfect slice, to which they serve into the wee hours of the night, after boozy people flood the streets of Portland. It is cracker thin crust, with just enough chew that you gotta pull, the dough is slightly sour, the toppings range from typical to amazeballs. Every slice I have ever had is delicious. We hoofed it up to Otto's just as bars we pushing people out and A ordered 4 slices as I audibly sighed and moaned, bitterly living vicariously through him. I watched as he bit into his slices, cheese squish noises emanating with each bite, a dribble of grease down his chin, crispy pepperoni......I. Was. Dieing. It was torture watching him. All night long I watched him eat things I couldn't. Things I knew how good they tasted, because since the first time I ever tried them, all I wanted to do was take A so he could enjoy in all my food salivating glory. And here we were doing exactly what I wanted to experience with him as I sent death rays into his forehead as he ate my delicious, my lovable, MY amazing Otto's pizza! How. Dare. He. What the F was I thinking??
OOOOhhh AND to top it all off he didn't like the potato, bacon, scallion pizza!!! WHHAAAaa!!?? I don't like you! (I actually think I said that to him.) Sure bacon, garlic mashed potato and scallion pizza sounds weird (I had the same initial thoughts) but no, it is truly amazing! It is all I ever want whenever we pass Otto's. And he didn't like it!! Enough was enough, the torture was killing me and the dagger to my heart that "those ingredients don't belong on a pizza" BS I ripped it out of his hands and took 2 very large, perfectly greasy, potato-y, bacon-y, cheese-yum bites and closed my eyes. It was just as delicious as I had remembered. Only better. It took everything in my mind to not eat the whole damn slice. I was horrified and slightly concerned I might keel over and die right outside Otto's. I took one last bite, knowing full well I was going to be hating myself within the next few hours, if not definitely by morning.
But here is the thing.....I didn't die! I didn't even have breathing problems. Or a lump in my throat. Nor was I constipated in the morning. I ate gluten and I didn't die!?! Holy crap! I don't know if it was the booze that buffered my typical reaction. Or the fact that is was the pizza of the gods. Or all the walking, who the hell knows?? Either way the inevitable doom I anticipated never came.
That by no means means I started shoveling gluten down my throat left and right (thank god we left Portland the next morning). But I took my non-reaction as a sign from the Otto's pizza gods that I was supposed to eat 3 bites of their pizza, so all would be right in the world again. And also so the potato, bacon, scallion pizza would not be insulted by A's lame "it doesn't belong on pizza" comment! Shhh, Otto's pizza I still love you (queue petting motion). You don't know until you know and apparently A just doesn't get it.
The reality is I didn't die probably because I have not had gluten in 4 years. My villi are happy. My gut is happy. By bowels like me (most of the time) and the experts say every once in a while, when your gut flora and GI tract are super healthy, even for extremely gluten sensitive people, a wee bit of gluten won't hurt you. And by wee I mean probably no more than the 3 bites I had. I cannot tell you how desperately I wanted to eat the whole slice. But even through my boozy haze I knew better and my strong will stuck by me as I put down the slice of amazingness, still glaring at A due to his sheer stupidity. But at least he had Otto's amazing pizza and got to enjoy the glory of Portland food heaven with me in all proper birthday gluttony (even though I secretly resented him most of the night). Love you dear, happy 36th!
This time we went to Portland to do Portland proper. We stayed right in town, biting the bullet and paying the extra $100-ish to be within walking distance of everything, and have a water view! Oooo snazzy, right?! A man only turns 36 once!
A and I had not been to Portland in the proper-do-it-up-Portland-way since the food scene really burst. If you do not know, or have not heard (do you live in a cave?) Portland is food heaven. I want enough time, money and a-not-give-a-shit-attitude to get gargantuan fat on all the deliciousness that Portland has to offer. And in all my attempts to hit the best rated places and stay up to date with mutual foodie drooling friends, I always manage to be somewhat behind the newest gotta-go-there-place. Le sigh! If only someone wanted to fund my gluttonous happy growth into obesity. Any takers?
It is probably good we don't live in Portland. All income would go to food and booze. We love trying new food, seeing new restaurants. We love people watching with good cocktails and the options in Portland are endless.
There are my go-to favs that I had not had the chance to take A to yet. Like I said we are normally passing through, so either it is convenience over waiting in line, say at Duckfat (Drool! He STILL doesn't know what he is missing. I have tried to make him stand in the around-the-block-line 3 times now, each time he complains and doesn't want to wait....if ONLY he knew!!! How can anything ever not be worth a wait when it is fried/grilled in duck fat? Duck fat?! And Belgium fries, with sauces you want to slather all over your body and a cold brew...I can't! But apparently A can't wait in line long enough to get to the point of drooling, which inevitably happens when the name is even mentioned. If only he knew! And if only he would wait in the damn line!)
 |
| Duckfat deliciousness. Photo courtesy of justaddcheese.com. |
So although we didn't make it to Duckfat yet again, we made it our mission to gallivant around, try a drink and a nibble, at the places I wanted to take him to or those that caught our eye along the way. We were fat (in a reasonable, still gluttonous, but not protruding sort of a way. I realize gargantuan doesn't happen in one night (try as I might).) and well boozed by the end of the night.
 |
| Walter's calamari |
It was SO much fun. Everything, as always, was amazing. Walter's calamari - oh yeah - "best calamari [he's] ever had!" Zapoteca's habanero watermelon margaritas, die! Salsas, so different and cool. Guac! ::drooly face:: Local 188 is always a great venue, great for people watching, awesome, quirky bartenders, AHmazing drinks (and food, which we didn't have this time). We visited so many other places they're starting to blend together. Mmmmm.
 |
| Zapoteca quac |
Otto's pizza is my idea of a perfect slice, to which they serve into the wee hours of the night, after boozy people flood the streets of Portland. It is cracker thin crust, with just enough chew that you gotta pull, the dough is slightly sour, the toppings range from typical to amazeballs. Every slice I have ever had is delicious. We hoofed it up to Otto's just as bars we pushing people out and A ordered 4 slices as I audibly sighed and moaned, bitterly living vicariously through him. I watched as he bit into his slices, cheese squish noises emanating with each bite, a dribble of grease down his chin, crispy pepperoni......I. Was. Dieing. It was torture watching him. All night long I watched him eat things I couldn't. Things I knew how good they tasted, because since the first time I ever tried them, all I wanted to do was take A so he could enjoy in all my food salivating glory. And here we were doing exactly what I wanted to experience with him as I sent death rays into his forehead as he ate my delicious, my lovable, MY amazing Otto's pizza! How. Dare. He. What the F was I thinking??
OOOOhhh AND to top it all off he didn't like the potato, bacon, scallion pizza!!! WHHAAAaa!!?? I don't like you! (I actually think I said that to him.) Sure bacon, garlic mashed potato and scallion pizza sounds weird (I had the same initial thoughts) but no, it is truly amazing! It is all I ever want whenever we pass Otto's. And he didn't like it!! Enough was enough, the torture was killing me and the dagger to my heart that "those ingredients don't belong on a pizza" BS I ripped it out of his hands and took 2 very large, perfectly greasy, potato-y, bacon-y, cheese-yum bites and closed my eyes. It was just as delicious as I had remembered. Only better. It took everything in my mind to not eat the whole damn slice. I was horrified and slightly concerned I might keel over and die right outside Otto's. I took one last bite, knowing full well I was going to be hating myself within the next few hours, if not definitely by morning.
But here is the thing.....I didn't die! I didn't even have breathing problems. Or a lump in my throat. Nor was I constipated in the morning. I ate gluten and I didn't die!?! Holy crap! I don't know if it was the booze that buffered my typical reaction. Or the fact that is was the pizza of the gods. Or all the walking, who the hell knows?? Either way the inevitable doom I anticipated never came.
 |
| The famous Otto's bacon, scallion, potato pizza. |
That by no means means I started shoveling gluten down my throat left and right (thank god we left Portland the next morning). But I took my non-reaction as a sign from the Otto's pizza gods that I was supposed to eat 3 bites of their pizza, so all would be right in the world again. And also so the potato, bacon, scallion pizza would not be insulted by A's lame "it doesn't belong on pizza" comment! Shhh, Otto's pizza I still love you (queue petting motion). You don't know until you know and apparently A just doesn't get it.
The reality is I didn't die probably because I have not had gluten in 4 years. My villi are happy. My gut is happy. By bowels like me (most of the time) and the experts say every once in a while, when your gut flora and GI tract are super healthy, even for extremely gluten sensitive people, a wee bit of gluten won't hurt you. And by wee I mean probably no more than the 3 bites I had. I cannot tell you how desperately I wanted to eat the whole slice. But even through my boozy haze I knew better and my strong will stuck by me as I put down the slice of amazingness, still glaring at A due to his sheer stupidity. But at least he had Otto's amazing pizza and got to enjoy the glory of Portland food heaven with me in all proper birthday gluttony (even though I secretly resented him most of the night). Love you dear, happy 36th!
 |
| Zapoteca watermelon habanero rita. Ole! |
Friday, May 15, 2015
Bad Timing to Cut Out Wine and Potato Chips When You are PMSing
These last two weeks have been chaotic, emotional, exhausting, frustrating, tumultuous and libated beyond healthy. For lack of any better word these last two weeks I have been on a bender. And no, relax, I don't need help, I don't need to check into a rehab facility. I am talking about my type of bender which is most people's typical weekend nights.
For the last two weeks I have eaten everything and anything in sight, in mass qualities (minus gluten, I still chose to breathe) not giving a care what it was, if it nourished me or if it made me feel like shit. Potato chips, meat, dairy, Doritos (!), french fries, pie, fried chicken, fajitas, Irish nachos (lots of eating out), times 2 and then all over again. Yeah, there has been a couple of green things in there, but not much, and probably just as a garnish or in a "salad." And I am still taking my vitamins and probiotics like somehow they're going to offset this indulgent eat-whatever-bender I have been on. Ha! And don't even get me started on my alcohol consumption. Let's just say it is WAY too frequent and too much. And now my body hates me. I have lovely puss-y pimples (which I never get), my skin is dry, I am irritable, I am anywhere between constipated and having diarrhea, and now my hemorrhoids from years ago are screaming at me. My body pretty much is saying F-YOU to all the damage I have decided to force upon it these last 2 weeks.
Why you might ask? Because of a multitude of things - mostly a shitty job I hate. I want to run screaming from the building most days of the week. The fact that I am still at said job, when I wanted to leave over a year ago. That at said job my boss who has come in, stirred the pot and left it to overflow, boiling scalding hot, spewing all over the stove, is now leaving because the company has "sucked the chi" out of him and he has "other callings."(Don't we all!?) Leaving us to deal with the mess and frustrations and loose ends of the many things that never got accomplished or straightened out. Also on his second to last day he felt the need to criticize that I did not handle a situation as he would have and that I was "too emotional" Who? Me? Nahhh...not this week buddy.... This also means that owner, ie boss's Dad, comes back in full swing, in all micro-managing glory. It is also because it is officially spring and all I want to do is be outside in my garden with my dogs and my man, getting dirty, growing beauty and creating life and nourishment for us and our home.
But no I am stuck in a stupid office, doing a stupid job that sucks every iota of life out of me. Also I have yet to muster up the courage to tell owner/boss that I cannot and will not be working Friday's anymore because I need to focus on my health coach certification (I know the hypocrisy given my recent misgivings, hey, I'm only human). And the anticipation and fear of that conversation is filling me with terror, frustration and anxiety. Because really all I want to do is march in there and quit tomorrow. And OF COURSE they keep asking when am I going to start working Fridays again.
Oh and top it all I am PMSing like no one's business. I want to punch everyone in the throat and ugly cry all at the same time - mostly everyone at work, the poor cashier lady, the driver of the car in front of me, my man, my mom, you name it, I am on a Doritos cheese fingers-covered-wine-induced hormonal war path and you best get the fuck out of my way.
I know, I know, I know.....not healthy, not addressing the "true" problems, not rising above, not finding peace, and knowledge in "the master plan" (of which there is one. Trust, I do not plan to wallow in this misery forever. It fucking sucks and I want to get on with my life.) and all in all not being very namas-fucking-te. But honestly I don't know what to do, except wallow and eat and drink. All I want to do is run away from all of it, which is not realistic. I want to quit tomorrow and spend the rest of my summer doing what I want - which is gardening, writing, doing yoga outside, painting, playing with my dogs, working out, cooking delicious healthy yummy meals, teaching myself how to cook more vegetarian/vegan foods, try a raw diet, have more time for my health coach courses, start taking on health coaching clients, swimming in the ocean, taking the boat out, maybe becoming a certified yoga instructor, but no, I am wallowing, throwing a tantrum and hurting my body instead. AND even though I know better I can't seem to stop this vicious cycle.
It is such bullshit that something so simple as a "job" can effect so much else in our lives. It makes sense intuitively, but I have never gotten it until now. But if you spend 30-40 hours of your 168 hours in a week doing something that you hate, that kills you, that sucks the life force out of you, that you know is broken, can't fix, don't want to fix and don't believe in, then let me tell you that 24% of your weekly life royally sucks.
I need to do better, find peace, have my period start (and yes I know the wallowing and binging and booze and bad eating has brought on the raging bitch PMS), drink less, eat more veggies, eat less dairy and meat, do more yoga, find that peaceful head space about work again and continue on, because there isn't much more time for "the master plan" to unfold I am just getting antsy and I want my way out now!
My body and digestive tract is yelling at me and I must listen or it will only get worse. Sometimes I get so tired of being sensitive because I can't "do what everyone else can do," I can't drown my sorrows in booze and junk food. No matter how hard I force it. I only get a few days before I get aggravated, constipated, my sleep is effected, my mood is effected, the zits appear and the bitch comes out. So two weeks is pushing it WAY too far (sorry to those loved ones around me, thanks for loving me still).
So I am going to be good, eat better, stop drinking alcohol for a while, stop buying potato chips, make my green juice (gagging right now just thinking about it), start getting up earlier in the morning to meditate, practice healing yoga and be nicer to myself, my heart, my emotions, my head space and my body. I am using the wallow as my excuse and work as the evil monster, which it may be, but it is my reality and I can't blame it, when I am working towards a better, brighter, more fulfilling, healthy future.
"Patience my dear, patience."
PS Muster up the balls to ask for Fridays off. Stop with the game and the anxiety.
Love,
Me (your better knowing conscious self)
For the last two weeks I have eaten everything and anything in sight, in mass qualities (minus gluten, I still chose to breathe) not giving a care what it was, if it nourished me or if it made me feel like shit. Potato chips, meat, dairy, Doritos (!), french fries, pie, fried chicken, fajitas, Irish nachos (lots of eating out), times 2 and then all over again. Yeah, there has been a couple of green things in there, but not much, and probably just as a garnish or in a "salad." And I am still taking my vitamins and probiotics like somehow they're going to offset this indulgent eat-whatever-bender I have been on. Ha! And don't even get me started on my alcohol consumption. Let's just say it is WAY too frequent and too much. And now my body hates me. I have lovely puss-y pimples (which I never get), my skin is dry, I am irritable, I am anywhere between constipated and having diarrhea, and now my hemorrhoids from years ago are screaming at me. My body pretty much is saying F-YOU to all the damage I have decided to force upon it these last 2 weeks.
Why you might ask? Because of a multitude of things - mostly a shitty job I hate. I want to run screaming from the building most days of the week. The fact that I am still at said job, when I wanted to leave over a year ago. That at said job my boss who has come in, stirred the pot and left it to overflow, boiling scalding hot, spewing all over the stove, is now leaving because the company has "sucked the chi" out of him and he has "other callings."(Don't we all!?) Leaving us to deal with the mess and frustrations and loose ends of the many things that never got accomplished or straightened out. Also on his second to last day he felt the need to criticize that I did not handle a situation as he would have and that I was "too emotional" Who? Me? Nahhh...not this week buddy.... This also means that owner, ie boss's Dad, comes back in full swing, in all micro-managing glory. It is also because it is officially spring and all I want to do is be outside in my garden with my dogs and my man, getting dirty, growing beauty and creating life and nourishment for us and our home.
But no I am stuck in a stupid office, doing a stupid job that sucks every iota of life out of me. Also I have yet to muster up the courage to tell owner/boss that I cannot and will not be working Friday's anymore because I need to focus on my health coach certification (I know the hypocrisy given my recent misgivings, hey, I'm only human). And the anticipation and fear of that conversation is filling me with terror, frustration and anxiety. Because really all I want to do is march in there and quit tomorrow. And OF COURSE they keep asking when am I going to start working Fridays again.
Oh and top it all I am PMSing like no one's business. I want to punch everyone in the throat and ugly cry all at the same time - mostly everyone at work, the poor cashier lady, the driver of the car in front of me, my man, my mom, you name it, I am on a Doritos cheese fingers-covered-wine-induced hormonal war path and you best get the fuck out of my way.
I know, I know, I know.....not healthy, not addressing the "true" problems, not rising above, not finding peace, and knowledge in "the master plan" (of which there is one. Trust, I do not plan to wallow in this misery forever. It fucking sucks and I want to get on with my life.) and all in all not being very namas-fucking-te. But honestly I don't know what to do, except wallow and eat and drink. All I want to do is run away from all of it, which is not realistic. I want to quit tomorrow and spend the rest of my summer doing what I want - which is gardening, writing, doing yoga outside, painting, playing with my dogs, working out, cooking delicious healthy yummy meals, teaching myself how to cook more vegetarian/vegan foods, try a raw diet, have more time for my health coach courses, start taking on health coaching clients, swimming in the ocean, taking the boat out, maybe becoming a certified yoga instructor, but no, I am wallowing, throwing a tantrum and hurting my body instead. AND even though I know better I can't seem to stop this vicious cycle.
It is such bullshit that something so simple as a "job" can effect so much else in our lives. It makes sense intuitively, but I have never gotten it until now. But if you spend 30-40 hours of your 168 hours in a week doing something that you hate, that kills you, that sucks the life force out of you, that you know is broken, can't fix, don't want to fix and don't believe in, then let me tell you that 24% of your weekly life royally sucks.
I need to do better, find peace, have my period start (and yes I know the wallowing and binging and booze and bad eating has brought on the raging bitch PMS), drink less, eat more veggies, eat less dairy and meat, do more yoga, find that peaceful head space about work again and continue on, because there isn't much more time for "the master plan" to unfold I am just getting antsy and I want my way out now!
My body and digestive tract is yelling at me and I must listen or it will only get worse. Sometimes I get so tired of being sensitive because I can't "do what everyone else can do," I can't drown my sorrows in booze and junk food. No matter how hard I force it. I only get a few days before I get aggravated, constipated, my sleep is effected, my mood is effected, the zits appear and the bitch comes out. So two weeks is pushing it WAY too far (sorry to those loved ones around me, thanks for loving me still).
So I am going to be good, eat better, stop drinking alcohol for a while, stop buying potato chips, make my green juice (gagging right now just thinking about it), start getting up earlier in the morning to meditate, practice healing yoga and be nicer to myself, my heart, my emotions, my head space and my body. I am using the wallow as my excuse and work as the evil monster, which it may be, but it is my reality and I can't blame it, when I am working towards a better, brighter, more fulfilling, healthy future.
"Patience my dear, patience."
PS Muster up the balls to ask for Fridays off. Stop with the game and the anxiety.
Love,
Me (your better knowing conscious self)
Friday, May 1, 2015
Poop Patrol
Our lives are centered around poop. Thinking about poop. Cleaning up poop. Observing the signs of needing to poop. No we are not new parents to a pooping bundle of baby-joy, we are the parents of fur babies, two of them and they poop A LOT!
I know our dog's pooping schedule as well as mine and I spend a most of my day concerned with their poop. And yes I do pay that much attention to my dog's buttholes! Don't judge. They have nub-tails (which are the cutest, I can't imagine having a dog with a tail!), the butthole is prominent and obvious, especially when it is puckering out or winking at you (both of which, we have the joy of seeing on a semi-regular basis). You notice! Actually it is hard to not notice. (When we saw that video of a dog barking and his butthole opening and closing synchronized with his barking, circulating around, we laughed not because it was funny, which it was, but because of the all-to-familiar vision - we just never thought to video it and make it go viral).
No one warned us about the amount of poop two dogs produce. I guess we could have intuited by the amount of food they eat, but I had no idea how quickly two dogs would go through a 30lb bag of dog food! They say, "Oh two is no more than one." "Two is just the same amount of work as one." Liars! I swear they say the same thing about children. But two dogs is not the same as one, anymore than two children is the same as one.
It's out there, I said it, if dogs are any indication of children, 2 ≠ 1, period, dot!
It's out there, I said it, if dogs are any indication of children, 2 ≠ 1, period, dot!
It is twice the amount of food, twice the amount of water, twice the amount of attention, twice the amount of poop, twice the amount of poop scooping and twice the amount of time spent making sure both dogs poop when they are supposed to before you have to go back to work. Not. The. Same.
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| Nub-tails and lots-o-toys - rough life! ;) |
These are what you call nub-tails!
And see the opportunity for butthole observation??
You can't not look!
We are very conscious of never leaving them too long between potty breaks. Neither have ever had an accident in the house and we never force them to go longer than we could go. We just feel awful to do that. To this end we are hyper aware of their schedule. They poop in the morning when we all get up, they poop at lunch time, sometimes around or before dinner time, and normally before bed. That is a shit-ton of shit.
It never occurred to me that they might NOT need to poop at the same time?? What a crazy idea, right?! Why in God's name I thought two dog buttholes would be synchronized is ridiculous I know. You know what though, they are actually pretty much on the same scheduled. Phew! They both go on the occasional poop protest especially when it is cold or wet out. But they pretty much have the same scheduled, which is nice. However, when they don't, it ALWAYS is when they know we are leaving. One will dilly-dally, but eventually poop, while the other one walks around, walks around, gets distracted by a bug, or a noise, or a rain drop, or the wind, as the pucker in the butthole protrudes further and further out, to the point you are pretty convinced you just saw the poop. It becomes a game of "I don't need to poop, even though you can see my poop."
It never occurred to me that they might NOT need to poop at the same time?? What a crazy idea, right?! Why in God's name I thought two dog buttholes would be synchronized is ridiculous I know. You know what though, they are actually pretty much on the same scheduled. Phew! They both go on the occasional poop protest especially when it is cold or wet out. But they pretty much have the same scheduled, which is nice. However, when they don't, it ALWAYS is when they know we are leaving. One will dilly-dally, but eventually poop, while the other one walks around, walks around, gets distracted by a bug, or a noise, or a rain drop, or the wind, as the pucker in the butthole protrudes further and further out, to the point you are pretty convinced you just saw the poop. It becomes a game of "I don't need to poop, even though you can see my poop."
When we first got Oli he would immediately whimper at the door, run out do his business, run back in. For whatever reason he has picked up Addi's wonderful habit of holding his poop to enjoy all the curious splendors of the world, where the point of protrusion is inevitable. And for you non-dog owners, with puckering buttholes comes stinky-ass dog farts, which are nostril burning, eye watering and frequent, especially when said dog needs to poop and has been playing the I-don't-need-to-poop-game for longer than is funny anymore.
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| Oli's squishy face in his fav place on the back of the couch. |
We joke about the poop game, but then secretly wonder if it is dog mind-poop-control over their humans; which, if is the case, our dogs have mastered it! Although they typically poop when they are supposed to and pretty much on command (because we are so hyper-aware of their schedule) they seem to get a twisted, albeit uncomfortable, pleasure of holding their poop if the conditions do not meet their standards. Full fledged poop protest that we cannot create a soothing zen-spa like poop sanctuary. Bad humans, bad humans.
Addi has a knee injury right now, which we are babying and forcing her to be still (you try to tell a hyper active dog to not run and play and jump, IN SPRING, yeah right! I laughed at the vet when he told us to force her to stay indoors, but we are trying). Typically at lunch time I let them out in the fenced yard to run, and sniff, and play, and pee and poop. Right now they have to go out separately to avoid any chance of running and playing. I don't know about you, but rationalizing with two very rambunctious dogs that they cannot play or run or even go outside together is pointless. Our back door pretty much is a revolving door of "oh please, oh please let me out side," but as the other one comes in, the pleading one, immediately wants in too.
They no longer can pee on each other's pee. They can no longer poop together and that adds a WHOLE new level of poop protest. God forbid the neighbor's dog is outside, or the wind picks up, or a bumblebee flies by, because then the whole poop-brigade-game continues of pleading to go in or out, farting as they run up or down the outside stairs, butthole winking, protruding and awaiting for the inevitable turd that has been held way too long.
It makes you wonder who is the master here, the mind-poop-control masters or the poop-scooper-humans? Dogs 1, humans 0.
Addi has a knee injury right now, which we are babying and forcing her to be still (you try to tell a hyper active dog to not run and play and jump, IN SPRING, yeah right! I laughed at the vet when he told us to force her to stay indoors, but we are trying). Typically at lunch time I let them out in the fenced yard to run, and sniff, and play, and pee and poop. Right now they have to go out separately to avoid any chance of running and playing. I don't know about you, but rationalizing with two very rambunctious dogs that they cannot play or run or even go outside together is pointless. Our back door pretty much is a revolving door of "oh please, oh please let me out side," but as the other one comes in, the pleading one, immediately wants in too.
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| Addi as a puppy. Look at the nub-tail, awwww! |
It makes you wonder who is the master here, the mind-poop-control masters or the poop-scooper-humans? Dogs 1, humans 0.
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| Our babies! |
Sunday, April 20, 2014
An Ode to He Who Can Eat it All
The ire of loving someone who can eat it all and in very large amounts:
Most mornings I wake and have my usual cup of green tea, he has coffee with enough cream to turn it a milky tan. He consumes the entire pot of coffee as I enjoy my one cup of tea.
I make my typical morning smoothie, but slightly more indulgent today (hey it's the weekend) dates, almonds, raw sunflower seeds, lecithin, bee pollen, homegrown wheat grass, spirulina, flax seeds, psyllium husk, liquid minerals, cinnamon and organic almond milk. He eats leftovers from dinner out the night before of a half a steak, pepper jack cheese, mushroom, peppers and onions sandwich (mind you the half is the size of his face, you should have seen the whole!) and left over, crisped in the oven fries, 2 large glasses of local organic (at least something is!) 2% milk, as a slowly sip my health-nut smoothie.
I can not tell you how many times we go out to eat and he orders all to his heart's content, greasy, meaty, cheese oozy-yumminess and I get a salad. Yay salad (sarcastic font here). Oh the glory of choices, I think to myself. The joy of eating that which sounds good (and looks good), not what is good for you or really only what is available to you due to allergies.
Oh, and did I mention he never gains weight! (Yes, I do love him)
Of course, he knows, and I remind him that he should watch what he eats, but right now, at this point in his life he doesn't and decides to not worry. Although I certainly have rubbed off on him. He graciously and enthusiastically eats my vegetarian and often vegan weeknight dinners, sure he might add cheese, but at least he is getting a more balanced diet. Plus he takes his vitamins and drinks green juice when I make it for him, but I always have to laugh at our eating differences.
One of the more prominent moments from our recent travels just makes me smile: he sits in a overstuffed chair reading the morning newspaper, drinking a full-fat, double latte, eating a bacon, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich on a fresh made New York bagel, the buttery-greasy-bacony-yummness runs down his arm and permeates the room as I transition into a crescent lunge. I did my full morning yoga practice in a bacon, gluten-y, cheese smelling room and gladly went and made my morning smoothie after. Talk about strong will (namaste, mf-ing bacon!).
Our consumption choices are different, but so is our physical makeup. He has no obvious food allergies. He burns an obscene amount of calories a day being a construction worker. And subsequently can eat that which he chooses, which is meat, fat, cheese, dairy and gluten galore. And yes there are days I am gloriously envious. But hey, I get to live vicariously through him. I can smell it, whatever it might be in all it's oozy, gluten-y, dairy goodness, enjoy watching him eat it (of which he makes looks very enjoyable), but my strong will always kicks in. I can't and choose to not consume like that. I choose health, wellness and feeling good as more important that oozy cheesy gluten, well that and I am a little partial to breathing....
He knows better and is including a more balanced consumption into his daily life (perhaps thanks to me) and maybe one day he will come fully over to my "crunchy" "rabbit food" side, but for now I will continue to practice self-control as I watch him take a bite of cheesy, meaty, gluten-y goodness, while I casually slip good, wellness food practices into his daily life.
Most mornings I wake and have my usual cup of green tea, he has coffee with enough cream to turn it a milky tan. He consumes the entire pot of coffee as I enjoy my one cup of tea.
I make my typical morning smoothie, but slightly more indulgent today (hey it's the weekend) dates, almonds, raw sunflower seeds, lecithin, bee pollen, homegrown wheat grass, spirulina, flax seeds, psyllium husk, liquid minerals, cinnamon and organic almond milk. He eats leftovers from dinner out the night before of a half a steak, pepper jack cheese, mushroom, peppers and onions sandwich (mind you the half is the size of his face, you should have seen the whole!) and left over, crisped in the oven fries, 2 large glasses of local organic (at least something is!) 2% milk, as a slowly sip my health-nut smoothie.
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| Photo courtesy of two-views.com |
I can not tell you how many times we go out to eat and he orders all to his heart's content, greasy, meaty, cheese oozy-yumminess and I get a salad. Yay salad (sarcastic font here). Oh the glory of choices, I think to myself. The joy of eating that which sounds good (and looks good), not what is good for you or really only what is available to you due to allergies.
Oh, and did I mention he never gains weight! (Yes, I do love him)
Of course, he knows, and I remind him that he should watch what he eats, but right now, at this point in his life he doesn't and decides to not worry. Although I certainly have rubbed off on him. He graciously and enthusiastically eats my vegetarian and often vegan weeknight dinners, sure he might add cheese, but at least he is getting a more balanced diet. Plus he takes his vitamins and drinks green juice when I make it for him, but I always have to laugh at our eating differences.
One of the more prominent moments from our recent travels just makes me smile: he sits in a overstuffed chair reading the morning newspaper, drinking a full-fat, double latte, eating a bacon, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich on a fresh made New York bagel, the buttery-greasy-bacony-yummness runs down his arm and permeates the room as I transition into a crescent lunge. I did my full morning yoga practice in a bacon, gluten-y, cheese smelling room and gladly went and made my morning smoothie after. Talk about strong will (namaste, mf-ing bacon!).
Our consumption choices are different, but so is our physical makeup. He has no obvious food allergies. He burns an obscene amount of calories a day being a construction worker. And subsequently can eat that which he chooses, which is meat, fat, cheese, dairy and gluten galore. And yes there are days I am gloriously envious. But hey, I get to live vicariously through him. I can smell it, whatever it might be in all it's oozy, gluten-y, dairy goodness, enjoy watching him eat it (of which he makes looks very enjoyable), but my strong will always kicks in. I can't and choose to not consume like that. I choose health, wellness and feeling good as more important that oozy cheesy gluten, well that and I am a little partial to breathing....
He knows better and is including a more balanced consumption into his daily life (perhaps thanks to me) and maybe one day he will come fully over to my "crunchy" "rabbit food" side, but for now I will continue to practice self-control as I watch him take a bite of cheesy, meaty, gluten-y goodness, while I casually slip good, wellness food practices into his daily life.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Yay You are Getting Married....................(right, that means I don't get to eat)
We have gone to a plethora of weddings in the last 8 months. Apparently I am at that age where all my friends are getting married, which is super exciting and I couldn't be more happy for my friends and their embracing of holy matrimony. I am all for celebrating in their wedded bliss, but do I always have to be starving and consequently drunk at all weddings? (Because there is no food, not because it is wedding, mind you!)
Going to weddings, or any large function for that matter, when you have food allergies sucks! There is never food you can eat. When people try to feed a large crowd it is always food that our gluten, dairy loving society thinks we all love to eat, like casseroles which ALWAYS contain gluten and dairy. Case in point last night's wedding meal included meat lasagna, veggie lasagna (at least they attempted to think of the vegetarians, one win....ish), Israeli couscous (which are not gf), spanikopita (which I SO miss and I forgot how much I miss it until I saw it staring up at me in all it's flaky, butter goodness! I am determined to find a gf phyllo dough just to make spanikopita), scalloped potatoes (which are a risky choice, you can very well make scalloped potatoes with no flour, but commonly flour is sprinkled in with the potatoes and mounds of cheese to help it all stick together) and salad, oh and green beans, with an unidentifiable cream sauce. The wedding before that, had more veggie options (thank gosh! But it was a friend with similar food preferences), but still there were croutons in the the salad, more cheese than anyone could ever attempt escaping and still only 3 things I could eat, but even then it was a limited supply, by the time I went up for seconds I got the last few cold charred veggie cubes and the meal was over. And don't even mention desserts, ha, just don't even bother with the dessert table.
It is the same at any wedding meal, I get up to stand on line to be polite and secretly hoping, that maybe, just maybe there will be something for me to eat, and more times that not, I get salad. Don't get me wrong, I love my salads, but come on people, if you are going to have a open bar a girl cannot subsist on salad alone!
Even at company parties, showers, funerals, you name the function, even traveling and attempting to rely on airport food options, the food choices are so limited that a gf, lf, veggie girl like me must leave early due to stomach pangs or sneak into the bathroom from time to time to eat the nuts in my purse.
So what's a girl to do?
The only way to go to a large function is preparedness. Assume for all events that there will be nothing you can eat, unless you count salad, but then again there is never enough salad with the understanding that it will be your entire meal; and it most likely has cheese in it, and dreaded croutons (aren't those so 90s, who even eats croutons anymore?) and you always toy with the gf and sugar demons if the salad is pre-dressed, but when you have no other options and your second glass of wine is starting to hit, you take that risk and hope for the best as you feverishly inhale your green leafs.
I eat before I go to anything, taking into account if I know the people and the function. And I pack snacks. Bring a larger than necessary and fashionably-paired-with-your-cocktail-dress purse so you can nibble on nuts, fruit and whatever else is easily portable that you can eat, while others mow on their glutenous, lactose-y crowd-pleasing torture-to-watch-them-eat food. Watch the open bar alcohol flow because that always poses a dangerous situation, and after the function rush to your car and eat the friendly meal you packed for yourself, go out to eat to a place that embraces you and all your food allergies or head home and cook something you know you couldn't have possibly found at the event, unless you intended on needing an EpiPen on the dance floor.
Another thing that really helps, is to know your food. If you know how something is commonly made or better yet, you have made it yourself in the past, it is easier to spot the glutenous and lactose-laden culprits at the buffet table. I know so many of us don't cook anymore and that makes it hard to know the components of scalloped potatoes or meatloaf or that any cream sauce was started with a roux and will inevitably have gluten in it. Loving to cook and experimenting with foods has allowed me to stand at a buffet table and breakdown the components of how a dish was made. There of course are always the 'could be' 'could not be' dishes that are tricky, you can either risk it, if you know the common preparation doesn't include gluten or lactose, you can pass it up or you can have an all-food-eating partner try it for you, to help you identify the flavors before you risk it yourself. But when in doubt pass it up.
Lastly, although I choose to eat very limited meat in my daily life, and if then it is only wild caught fish or organic, antibiotic free chicken, but even that is only a few times a month, unfortunately, meat is often a safe bet when attending a function or even going out to eat in a restaurant. Fish and chicken, however, are not wise choices because our gluten-loving compadres feel that gluten and cream needs to be added to all fish and chicken to somehow make it taste better. I say if you were more inventive with your cooking methods gluten nor lactose would have to be used to sell fish and chicken to the masses. Which leaves you with beef. I almost never eat beef, pork or lamb, but when eating out they are often safe bets. Again you have to look out for cream sauces and breading, but often if it is a nice cut of meat, the establishment doesn't want to do much to hide the fact that you are paying for a nice slab of meat. You have to look out for is soy sauce which is often used a flavor enhancer and tenderizer for many beef cuts. A piece of wisdom I have learned over the years, if you are like me and don't eat read meat often, I would highly recommend getting a slow cooked option, like slow cooked ribs, or pulled pork, any meat that the cooking process already started to breakdown the protein fibers. The slow cooking starts to "digest" the hard to digest meat fibers making it easier on your stomach. I would not recommend this if you never eat meat and have been a vegetarian for years, but if you choose meat, because of limited options, go with something that is pull-apart tender, your stomach and digestive tract will thank you. Just be careful of cooking methods, again looking out for soy sauce and brown sauces. So while I choose to not eat meat in my day to day life, sometimes the red meat options are safer when it comes to balancing out my food allergies to my preference of eating a vegetarian diet.
So while I am more than happy to celebrate with anyone, I am all for a party, even to celebrate your dog's birthday, but can you please, please start considering those of us with food allergies and not put gluten and dairy in everything, so that again I am only left to eat salad. There is only so much salad a girl can eat (and that is normally because salad is considered a side and there isn't enough to get seconds). Thank you and congrats in all your wedded bliss.
Going to weddings, or any large function for that matter, when you have food allergies sucks! There is never food you can eat. When people try to feed a large crowd it is always food that our gluten, dairy loving society thinks we all love to eat, like casseroles which ALWAYS contain gluten and dairy. Case in point last night's wedding meal included meat lasagna, veggie lasagna (at least they attempted to think of the vegetarians, one win....ish), Israeli couscous (which are not gf), spanikopita (which I SO miss and I forgot how much I miss it until I saw it staring up at me in all it's flaky, butter goodness! I am determined to find a gf phyllo dough just to make spanikopita), scalloped potatoes (which are a risky choice, you can very well make scalloped potatoes with no flour, but commonly flour is sprinkled in with the potatoes and mounds of cheese to help it all stick together) and salad, oh and green beans, with an unidentifiable cream sauce. The wedding before that, had more veggie options (thank gosh! But it was a friend with similar food preferences), but still there were croutons in the the salad, more cheese than anyone could ever attempt escaping and still only 3 things I could eat, but even then it was a limited supply, by the time I went up for seconds I got the last few cold charred veggie cubes and the meal was over. And don't even mention desserts, ha, just don't even bother with the dessert table.
It is the same at any wedding meal, I get up to stand on line to be polite and secretly hoping, that maybe, just maybe there will be something for me to eat, and more times that not, I get salad. Don't get me wrong, I love my salads, but come on people, if you are going to have a open bar a girl cannot subsist on salad alone!
Even at company parties, showers, funerals, you name the function, even traveling and attempting to rely on airport food options, the food choices are so limited that a gf, lf, veggie girl like me must leave early due to stomach pangs or sneak into the bathroom from time to time to eat the nuts in my purse.
So what's a girl to do?
The only way to go to a large function is preparedness. Assume for all events that there will be nothing you can eat, unless you count salad, but then again there is never enough salad with the understanding that it will be your entire meal; and it most likely has cheese in it, and dreaded croutons (aren't those so 90s, who even eats croutons anymore?) and you always toy with the gf and sugar demons if the salad is pre-dressed, but when you have no other options and your second glass of wine is starting to hit, you take that risk and hope for the best as you feverishly inhale your green leafs.
I eat before I go to anything, taking into account if I know the people and the function. And I pack snacks. Bring a larger than necessary and fashionably-paired-with-your-cocktail-dress purse so you can nibble on nuts, fruit and whatever else is easily portable that you can eat, while others mow on their glutenous, lactose-y crowd-pleasing torture-to-watch-them-eat food. Watch the open bar alcohol flow because that always poses a dangerous situation, and after the function rush to your car and eat the friendly meal you packed for yourself, go out to eat to a place that embraces you and all your food allergies or head home and cook something you know you couldn't have possibly found at the event, unless you intended on needing an EpiPen on the dance floor.
Another thing that really helps, is to know your food. If you know how something is commonly made or better yet, you have made it yourself in the past, it is easier to spot the glutenous and lactose-laden culprits at the buffet table. I know so many of us don't cook anymore and that makes it hard to know the components of scalloped potatoes or meatloaf or that any cream sauce was started with a roux and will inevitably have gluten in it. Loving to cook and experimenting with foods has allowed me to stand at a buffet table and breakdown the components of how a dish was made. There of course are always the 'could be' 'could not be' dishes that are tricky, you can either risk it, if you know the common preparation doesn't include gluten or lactose, you can pass it up or you can have an all-food-eating partner try it for you, to help you identify the flavors before you risk it yourself. But when in doubt pass it up.
Lastly, although I choose to eat very limited meat in my daily life, and if then it is only wild caught fish or organic, antibiotic free chicken, but even that is only a few times a month, unfortunately, meat is often a safe bet when attending a function or even going out to eat in a restaurant. Fish and chicken, however, are not wise choices because our gluten-loving compadres feel that gluten and cream needs to be added to all fish and chicken to somehow make it taste better. I say if you were more inventive with your cooking methods gluten nor lactose would have to be used to sell fish and chicken to the masses. Which leaves you with beef. I almost never eat beef, pork or lamb, but when eating out they are often safe bets. Again you have to look out for cream sauces and breading, but often if it is a nice cut of meat, the establishment doesn't want to do much to hide the fact that you are paying for a nice slab of meat. You have to look out for is soy sauce which is often used a flavor enhancer and tenderizer for many beef cuts. A piece of wisdom I have learned over the years, if you are like me and don't eat read meat often, I would highly recommend getting a slow cooked option, like slow cooked ribs, or pulled pork, any meat that the cooking process already started to breakdown the protein fibers. The slow cooking starts to "digest" the hard to digest meat fibers making it easier on your stomach. I would not recommend this if you never eat meat and have been a vegetarian for years, but if you choose meat, because of limited options, go with something that is pull-apart tender, your stomach and digestive tract will thank you. Just be careful of cooking methods, again looking out for soy sauce and brown sauces. So while I choose to not eat meat in my day to day life, sometimes the red meat options are safer when it comes to balancing out my food allergies to my preference of eating a vegetarian diet.
So while I am more than happy to celebrate with anyone, I am all for a party, even to celebrate your dog's birthday, but can you please, please start considering those of us with food allergies and not put gluten and dairy in everything, so that again I am only left to eat salad. There is only so much salad a girl can eat (and that is normally because salad is considered a side and there isn't enough to get seconds). Thank you and congrats in all your wedded bliss.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Yoga, Wine or Sweat?
Stress management is a life challenge. Everyone is different and everyone handles stress in their own way, but management is a critical part to making it through the many stresses of life.
Lately my day job seems to effect every part of my life. I head to work each morning, waning optimism of a new day that fades entirely by dinner time, only to wake and do it all over again the next day. With all the huge changes, personnel issues, management issues, new software installations, new programs and the generational divide between the old staff and the new, and old and new systems, I leave with my head throbbing, shoulders sore, and deep breathing attempts manifesting to a guttural moan that only perpetuates into getting worked up again, when kindly asked as I walk in the door 2 hours later than I would normally get off work, "Hey Babe, how was your day?" Unfortunately my job, at this point in time, is all consuming.
We all know we need to manage our stress. Stress kills. Cortisol and adrenaline are the body's hormonal defense mechanisms in times of stress, be it temporary or long term. They are produced as part of the body's fight-or-flight reaction to stressful situations. The problem with prolonged stress, your cortisol levels don't drop. Cortisol curbs functions that would be nonessential in a fight-or-flight situation such as immune system responses, suppressing the digestive system, the reproductive system and growth processes. This complex natural alarm system also communicates with regions of your brain that control mood, motivation and fear. In a prolonged state, cortisol causes weight gain in the abdominal area, which left ignored can cause a multitude of health problems, such as stress on internal organs by the increased abdominal fat, trouble sleeping, heart problems, digestive issues, anxiety and depression, to name a few. We have a natural alarm system that is great for one-off intense instances, but the majority of us live in a more semi-regular fluctuation of stress, often triggering our fight-or-flight system more than it was ever intended to be needed.
So it is clear that temporary stress management is important to alleviate the long term ramifications of stress because there are some major health concerns that come by ignoring stress symptoms in the short term. There are clearly more healthy ways than others to help one manage stress and we all have our preferences depending on the type of shit dealt that day. Recommendations range from stress reduction (but who really has much control over that, especially when dealing with the overhaul of a company), exercise (makes sense), eating well (I don't know about you, but when I am stressed I want to eat all my food vices at once), thinking positively (ya OK!?) and being social (this too makes sense). For my daily stress management it comes down to 3 choices; two are on the "recommended list" (yay, me), the other, not so much.
Lately, my question to myself on my drive home from work is, 'yoga, wine or sweat?'
While the default for many is often booze, it is probably the worst choice for stress management, but we all turn to it. The running joke around the office right now is, "Is it whiskey time?," which basically is any time, minus some stupid no alcohol policy while on the clock, grumble, grumble. What happened to the good-ole-days of the Mad Men era when booze was permitted and encouraged for the daily workings of an office? So, we often blow off steam after work, saddling up to the local bar, bitching about the inner-workings, or current lack thereof, in the office. It momentarily helps. And trust me, there are days, and as any office-based TV show will reiterate; a favorite line in particular - Marty Kaan from House of Lies, "I need to drunk." And some days that is just the case, drunkenness helps alleviate the stress for the evening, or at least makes the bitching more tolerable for those around you. Bitching is always more amusing and bonding when encouraged by some alcohol, you come together over a buzz, a common enemy and the camaraderie of "us against them."
But then there is the good side that kicks in, the better conscious side, on my other shoulder saying, "Well now, I know that wine sounds good, but yoga is better for you. It will calm your mind and release the tension of the day." As I say to myself, "I know, I know, I know," and suit up in my yoga gear. Yoga has amazing powers to calm my mind. The stress relief and inversions, deep breathing, all really works wonders. The clarity of mind is more than any number of glasses of wine can create, well then again, wine does the exact opposite, fuzzing the clarity of mind (but that's the purpose, right?). Sometimes I will resist the know-better of yoga practice after a long, stressful day, but every single time my better conscious wins, I am happier, calmer, relieved, less tense throughout my entire body, more than any amount of bitching or wine drinking could ever fix. So while I resist the initial "zen-Buddha," of which some days I want to say fuck zen-Buddha, the difference for me is untouchable. More often than not, my reluctance gives way to the best form of stress management I have ever known.
Sweat. Sweat for me has been a stress management tool I have relied on my whole life. When I was a frustrated teenager, I would put on my running shoes and head out the front door to run along the beach for as long as my legs would carry me. I turned to sports to alleviate some of the stresses in school, and in college my gym routine was just a valuable as my study routine. Sweating to me always meant a hardcore workout that teetered on the side of slightly masochistic. I love the labored breathing, the slow but gradual burn of working muscles, the beats blasting in my ears, the itchy trickle of sweat running down my face and back, and the residual post-workout ache the next day. Working out is one of the few times in my life that my brain completely turns off. Somehow the accomplishment of kicking my own ass to a point of exhaustion where I can't think of anything else, other than how badass I feel, makes the shitty, frustrating, pain-in-the-ass day melt away. There are just some days that no form of yoga nor massive glass of wine will do what the endorphin rush of a hardcore workout will produce, (well that and maybe getting laid, but I am not sure that sex is on the "professionally recommended stress-reducing list," but it should be!).
So drink, mediate, breathe, sweat, be positive, get laid, be zen-Buddha, eat junk, get drunk, whatever it may be, because we all have shitty days and stressful weeks, and one way or another we have to get through (just maybe have most of your stress management tools be good for you than bad, but we all have to have a few bad).
Lately my day job seems to effect every part of my life. I head to work each morning, waning optimism of a new day that fades entirely by dinner time, only to wake and do it all over again the next day. With all the huge changes, personnel issues, management issues, new software installations, new programs and the generational divide between the old staff and the new, and old and new systems, I leave with my head throbbing, shoulders sore, and deep breathing attempts manifesting to a guttural moan that only perpetuates into getting worked up again, when kindly asked as I walk in the door 2 hours later than I would normally get off work, "Hey Babe, how was your day?" Unfortunately my job, at this point in time, is all consuming.
We all know we need to manage our stress. Stress kills. Cortisol and adrenaline are the body's hormonal defense mechanisms in times of stress, be it temporary or long term. They are produced as part of the body's fight-or-flight reaction to stressful situations. The problem with prolonged stress, your cortisol levels don't drop. Cortisol curbs functions that would be nonessential in a fight-or-flight situation such as immune system responses, suppressing the digestive system, the reproductive system and growth processes. This complex natural alarm system also communicates with regions of your brain that control mood, motivation and fear. In a prolonged state, cortisol causes weight gain in the abdominal area, which left ignored can cause a multitude of health problems, such as stress on internal organs by the increased abdominal fat, trouble sleeping, heart problems, digestive issues, anxiety and depression, to name a few. We have a natural alarm system that is great for one-off intense instances, but the majority of us live in a more semi-regular fluctuation of stress, often triggering our fight-or-flight system more than it was ever intended to be needed.
So it is clear that temporary stress management is important to alleviate the long term ramifications of stress because there are some major health concerns that come by ignoring stress symptoms in the short term. There are clearly more healthy ways than others to help one manage stress and we all have our preferences depending on the type of shit dealt that day. Recommendations range from stress reduction (but who really has much control over that, especially when dealing with the overhaul of a company), exercise (makes sense), eating well (I don't know about you, but when I am stressed I want to eat all my food vices at once), thinking positively (ya OK!?) and being social (this too makes sense). For my daily stress management it comes down to 3 choices; two are on the "recommended list" (yay, me), the other, not so much.
Lately, my question to myself on my drive home from work is, 'yoga, wine or sweat?'
While the default for many is often booze, it is probably the worst choice for stress management, but we all turn to it. The running joke around the office right now is, "Is it whiskey time?," which basically is any time, minus some stupid no alcohol policy while on the clock, grumble, grumble. What happened to the good-ole-days of the Mad Men era when booze was permitted and encouraged for the daily workings of an office? So, we often blow off steam after work, saddling up to the local bar, bitching about the inner-workings, or current lack thereof, in the office. It momentarily helps. And trust me, there are days, and as any office-based TV show will reiterate; a favorite line in particular - Marty Kaan from House of Lies, "I need to drunk." And some days that is just the case, drunkenness helps alleviate the stress for the evening, or at least makes the bitching more tolerable for those around you. Bitching is always more amusing and bonding when encouraged by some alcohol, you come together over a buzz, a common enemy and the camaraderie of "us against them."
But then there is the good side that kicks in, the better conscious side, on my other shoulder saying, "Well now, I know that wine sounds good, but yoga is better for you. It will calm your mind and release the tension of the day." As I say to myself, "I know, I know, I know," and suit up in my yoga gear. Yoga has amazing powers to calm my mind. The stress relief and inversions, deep breathing, all really works wonders. The clarity of mind is more than any number of glasses of wine can create, well then again, wine does the exact opposite, fuzzing the clarity of mind (but that's the purpose, right?). Sometimes I will resist the know-better of yoga practice after a long, stressful day, but every single time my better conscious wins, I am happier, calmer, relieved, less tense throughout my entire body, more than any amount of bitching or wine drinking could ever fix. So while I resist the initial "zen-Buddha," of which some days I want to say fuck zen-Buddha, the difference for me is untouchable. More often than not, my reluctance gives way to the best form of stress management I have ever known.
Sweat. Sweat for me has been a stress management tool I have relied on my whole life. When I was a frustrated teenager, I would put on my running shoes and head out the front door to run along the beach for as long as my legs would carry me. I turned to sports to alleviate some of the stresses in school, and in college my gym routine was just a valuable as my study routine. Sweating to me always meant a hardcore workout that teetered on the side of slightly masochistic. I love the labored breathing, the slow but gradual burn of working muscles, the beats blasting in my ears, the itchy trickle of sweat running down my face and back, and the residual post-workout ache the next day. Working out is one of the few times in my life that my brain completely turns off. Somehow the accomplishment of kicking my own ass to a point of exhaustion where I can't think of anything else, other than how badass I feel, makes the shitty, frustrating, pain-in-the-ass day melt away. There are just some days that no form of yoga nor massive glass of wine will do what the endorphin rush of a hardcore workout will produce, (well that and maybe getting laid, but I am not sure that sex is on the "professionally recommended stress-reducing list," but it should be!).
So drink, mediate, breathe, sweat, be positive, get laid, be zen-Buddha, eat junk, get drunk, whatever it may be, because we all have shitty days and stressful weeks, and one way or another we have to get through (just maybe have most of your stress management tools be good for you than bad, but we all have to have a few bad).
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Blah Humbug
This time of year is challenging. No matter how hard you try, those delectable holiday treats sneak in, no matter your good intentions and hold-strong self-control, you (i.e. me) will inevitably fail.
My self-control is very good all year round, even other holidays and special occasions, I can easily say no to the sweets, meats, dairy and certain delectables I choose not to consume on an almost-never basis. My food allergies, gluten and lactose intolerance, make it a simple choice, no one wants to engage in birthday festivities with the belching, stinky-farting birthday girl, nor the grumpy, bathroom-bound, one-year-older-cranky-next-day-birthday-girl either. So I kindly say, "No thanks."
But there is something about the holidays! It starts with Thanksgiving and snowballs from there into a zitty, gassy, bloated, chapped lips, irregular pooping (read irritable and oh-so lovely) me. I have the zits, raw private bits and irritability to prove it. Concluding thoughts, the holidays are evil.
Thanksgiving I did well, as I hosted, so I had most control. I made everything vegan, except, well the turkey. I proposed the idea of a turkey-less Turkey Day and that did not go over well. How could I resist the herb and lemon, crispy skin, dark meat that I have long loved, so I indulged slightly. Other than that Thanksgiving was easy. I didn't over eat, didn't eat the desserts others brought and thought to myself I can handle this.
Ha, nice try...then there is my Mom's birthday, which is overindulgent by nature. We went to Boston (hello yumminess). Between the long sitting/traveling time (i.e. traveling gas and bloating) to the overindulgence of yumminess and mucho vino, I was constipated and achey all over. My yoga sessions in our hotel room hoedown space helped, as did some intestinal massage and probiotics, but the entire weekend, I was not a happy camper.
I came home and immediately started a juice cleanse. Knowing Christmas was around the corner, my system needed a break. After my 4-day cleanse, my body, poops, discomfort and irritability finally balanced out.
Not consuming alcohol during the holidays is a nearly impossible feat, it seems. I swear the holidays are the only socially acceptable time to be drunk continuously for days, hey "it's festive!"
I was good, happy, pooping regularly and balanced until Christmas Day. Christmas Day is filled with family traditions that have been modified to fit my dietary restrictions yet still, is so far from my normal eating habits; mimosas, lots-o-coffee, bagels, lox, goat cheese a plenty. Then the following days is chocolates, more champagne, more, more. Hence poop, fart, poop, zits.
Oh wait, and Then there is New Years Eve!! More booze, more gooie-yumminess....Ahhhh....I'm too sore to keep wiping!
How do you do it? How do you celebrate without celebrating with food? Each childhood holiday was surrounded in celebratory foods, meals, drinks that marked and made that specific holiday special. Letting go of those family traditions is hard and somehow the idea of a holiday without them is less festive.
I think this time of year wouldn't be so hard except for the fact that there is 5 holiday celebrations for me, back to back with little to no break in between. It is also amazing to me how quickly our bodies get confused and tell us we crave things that we don't normally. It goes to show you the power of processed foods, sugars and fats, and their addictive properties. So rarely eating such things, this little dose is making my body go, "give me more, give me more."
My body can't handle that much irregularity and I normally don't subject it to so much hatred. It is ironic that the holidays are celebrating family and the holiday spirit, yet somehow I forget to celebrate me, my body and my health. I need to learn to merge the two, be celebratory and involved, while still celebrating my normally happy-healthy body.
I am mesmerized by people like @Yoga_Girl, Rachel, a girl on Instagram I follow, she is so inspirational in her practice, positive thoughts and uplifting posts. She posted a pic the day after Christmas of a smoothie that she made from leftovers. I know, sounds gross, but it is beautiful and is rather amazing, because she eats so clean and mostly raw (Even on Christmas!!!), the mix included fruit, nuts, and a raw cinnamon roll thing. I was inspired and amazed.
How does she do it? How can I do it?
My self-control is very good all year round, even other holidays and special occasions, I can easily say no to the sweets, meats, dairy and certain delectables I choose not to consume on an almost-never basis. My food allergies, gluten and lactose intolerance, make it a simple choice, no one wants to engage in birthday festivities with the belching, stinky-farting birthday girl, nor the grumpy, bathroom-bound, one-year-older-cranky-next-day-birthday-girl either. So I kindly say, "No thanks."
But there is something about the holidays! It starts with Thanksgiving and snowballs from there into a zitty, gassy, bloated, chapped lips, irregular pooping (read irritable and oh-so lovely) me. I have the zits, raw private bits and irritability to prove it. Concluding thoughts, the holidays are evil.
Thanksgiving I did well, as I hosted, so I had most control. I made everything vegan, except, well the turkey. I proposed the idea of a turkey-less Turkey Day and that did not go over well. How could I resist the herb and lemon, crispy skin, dark meat that I have long loved, so I indulged slightly. Other than that Thanksgiving was easy. I didn't over eat, didn't eat the desserts others brought and thought to myself I can handle this.
Ha, nice try...then there is my Mom's birthday, which is overindulgent by nature. We went to Boston (hello yumminess). Between the long sitting/traveling time (i.e. traveling gas and bloating) to the overindulgence of yumminess and mucho vino, I was constipated and achey all over. My yoga sessions in our hotel room hoedown space helped, as did some intestinal massage and probiotics, but the entire weekend, I was not a happy camper.
I came home and immediately started a juice cleanse. Knowing Christmas was around the corner, my system needed a break. After my 4-day cleanse, my body, poops, discomfort and irritability finally balanced out.
Not consuming alcohol during the holidays is a nearly impossible feat, it seems. I swear the holidays are the only socially acceptable time to be drunk continuously for days, hey "it's festive!"
I was good, happy, pooping regularly and balanced until Christmas Day. Christmas Day is filled with family traditions that have been modified to fit my dietary restrictions yet still, is so far from my normal eating habits; mimosas, lots-o-coffee, bagels, lox, goat cheese a plenty. Then the following days is chocolates, more champagne, more, more. Hence poop, fart, poop, zits.
Oh wait, and Then there is New Years Eve!! More booze, more gooie-yumminess....Ahhhh....I'm too sore to keep wiping!
How do you do it? How do you celebrate without celebrating with food? Each childhood holiday was surrounded in celebratory foods, meals, drinks that marked and made that specific holiday special. Letting go of those family traditions is hard and somehow the idea of a holiday without them is less festive.
I think this time of year wouldn't be so hard except for the fact that there is 5 holiday celebrations for me, back to back with little to no break in between. It is also amazing to me how quickly our bodies get confused and tell us we crave things that we don't normally. It goes to show you the power of processed foods, sugars and fats, and their addictive properties. So rarely eating such things, this little dose is making my body go, "give me more, give me more."
My body can't handle that much irregularity and I normally don't subject it to so much hatred. It is ironic that the holidays are celebrating family and the holiday spirit, yet somehow I forget to celebrate me, my body and my health. I need to learn to merge the two, be celebratory and involved, while still celebrating my normally happy-healthy body.
 |
| @yoga_girl after Christmas smoothie |
How does she do it? How can I do it?
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