What are you… selling?

I have long resisted any kind of sales position.  I was a teller in college.  That didn’t sell any stocks.  I was a event manager… that didn’t sell banking relationships.  I was a development associate… that didn’t sell theater tickets.  I have long resisted any job that relied on me selling anything.  Anything that relied on myself.

Today my hubbend reminded me that I don’t sell weight loss.  I sell health counseling.  Clients (and I) get caught up in our goals, but really, when some hires me who wants to lose weight they are buying something I can’t deliver.  I cannot lose weight for someone else.  They have to do it themselves.  Weight loss isn’t easy.  It isn’t simple.  It takes hard work, a dedication to a goal, and a prioritization that many don’t have.  (which is why so many fail)

So I wonder why I am doing this rather sales related job (something I have long denied doing) when it is something that has such a high failure rate?  It is something I finally believe in.  Something that is so important.  Something that our lives depend on.

I don’t want to live my life in ill health.  I want to thrive.  I want to live a life of being, feeling, thinking and doing.  All within the harmony of living.

Don’t you?

Body Ownership

Recently someone told me that I was the only person in his life that he didn’t hug.  Now, I have to imagine that is an exaggeration, but still, that hit a mark.  Shocking for me to hear this as I used to consider myself an excellent hugger (still do actually, just don’t do it much).  In truth though, I stopped hugging because I didn’t want to.  I found myself uncomfortable with the whole act.  Hugs often feel dishonest to me and that very statement means I that I am carrying some story there.

So, I thought I’d look through my hugging history:

-High school – chubby, mom-figure to my soccer team hugged and carried everyone (resultant back pain ensued)

-College still loved hugging, especially the feeling of hugging big guys so I could feel enveloped.  Began to notice people that were especially bad huggers.  You know, the ones that either pat or lean and keep their body from touching you?

-Post college friends – there is too much drama there that I don’t choose to go into, but this is definitely when I stopped trusting hugs.  Yes, I said trusting.  Because this is when I stopped trusting people.  Stopped trusting them to be true and honest and good.  So I stopped wanting to touch people, because a hug was too intimate and I didn’t want a hug to be a lie.

-So I finally had a child and having this child meant that I had to be touched.  Constantly.  And this really put the nail in the coffin of hugging.  I certainly didn’t want to be touched by anyone else because I never got to choose the touching.  I began to resent this touching and it took many years to get over it.

-I think I got cats again last fall because I was ready for touch again, I think, but I definitely want my space.  I want to choose my touches, but I am ready for more contact in my life.  (I think there will be more on this later.)

So this person wasn’t the first person to notice it in my life, but they certainly have me thinking.  I have been trying to hug more.  But honestly and only when it feels real.  I won’t hug everyone, but I will hug people who I care about just to remind them in an unspoken way that I do care.  I love to hug my son and my husband (who are both exceptionally good huggers), and I go in for good hugs with my friends.  No half assing it here.

In a time where I don’t necessarily feel like I have a ton of ownership in my life, it is nice to feel this.  A good hug goes a long way.

Food Grouch

I have recently become a large fan of this blog written by someone who calls herself the Wellness Bitch.  And yesterday after ready a post on FB where someone totally attacked this person for her food choices (she had started a detox) I went to the WB and read something that resonated. 

Why do you think being negative would be productive in getting someone to change their eating habits?  Because I surely turn inward when someone attacks me.  The WB talked about how you sometimes feel like you are the only one standing up for your food choices.  That you feel weird.  And outside.  I don’t feel that way all the time, but I do sometimes.

Sure, it would be lovely if I had grown up a completely different person who didn’t care about food and just blithely went along making good food choices.  Doesn’t that sound great?  But I didn’t and I don’t.  I work hard at this.  I made great food (and horrible food) in this experiment of life that I call eating food that sustains me.  I shop in the bulk and produces sections solely these days in my vegan eating choices with an occasional trip down Tofu Way.

My son doesn’t like the look of these foods understandably (they don’t look at all like a grilled cheese sandwich), but I have to hope that what I am doing will positively impact him.  I don’t want him to struggle like I have.  I am proud that he knows all the vegetables by name in the house and knows food by the glass jar in the pantry, not by the packaging.

I am sorry if I’m a grouch, but this food thing isn’t easy.  The body changes as do the seasons and with that change comes a new set of foods to eat and learn how to cook.  I want to help people (my son, my husband, my family, my clients) make good food choices so they can be healthy for them.  I want people to understand that food isn’t always about hunger, but emotion and the past.  And this is ok.  I am doing the work so I can help others as well as myself.  And to make the decision to finally choose themselves.  Fully.

We all liked Oscar anyway, right?

Self Healing

I have recently become more and more infatuated with Ayurvedic Medicine.  I can even spell it properly now.  I really liked it from the moment I heard about it last fall, but it was a bit more complex than I could grasp in an overview.  Last week’s lesson was dedicated to Ayurveda and after listening to a 2.5 hour lecture and all the attendant research I feel like I have a decent handle on it. 

What do I like about it?  I like that you take ownership of your life through self knowledge.  I love that by knowing your type you can look at what ails you through that lens and find ways to fix the problem.  I can’t sleep at night, well, as a vata it clearly states that I need more grounding activities and should eat warming, grounding foods.  I didn’t have this information before but I knew something was wrong.  It all makes sense now.

It makes sense that I fly around like a crazy person and when I do this in the winter (vata time of year) in combination with eating raw I am feeling unsettled.  I just love it.  I love the power I feel in the potential to heal my own ills. 

I have always admired my hubbend so for how he took control of his illness through western medicine.  Now I have that power too.   Reading a new age-y book recently the author talked about creating your own present and future by talking positively.  This is generally the type of book I would throw across the room, but I loved the idea that the next time hubbend has to go into that surgery room I can bring a little bit of eastern love and ask them to speak positively so we can make sure that we do all we can to heal ourselves.

Self-Care, Self-Healing.  What’s next?  Self-Love!

What is Important to You?

We all live our lives by our own values.  I think it is important to know what those values are thereby living our lives more meaningfully.  For most, values change over time.  I know that by living with my hubbend I now value recycling more.  I know that living in Portland as a mother has made me more aware of the green movement and buying sustainable toys for my son.

I have also turned into somewhat of a locavore.  I have realized that while I value organic foods, I am going to pick a local product over an organic product should I be forced to do so.

Having this recent piano/moving fiasco has made me realize how important music is to my life.  I grew up with music.  The hubbend did not.  And while he has learned to appreciate music and is a super rad dancer, he has no idea about the theory of music. I missed having instruments in my home.  I want those things in my life and for my son.

So.  Back to food nutrition.  It is important to me.  Probably partially due to where we live, but I have developed into a local eating, mostly organic, mostly vegetarian, physically moving woman.  I am not interested in politics (although I know I should be).  I would rather read a book on nutrition and food politics.  I would rather read a book about emotional eating and why there seem to be two “me”s.  The me who eats well and the me who will stop at nothing to get.that.sugar.

What are your values?  Think about it.  It is important. 

Then smile.

Projections

I need a project.  Something meaningful.  I think Christmas decorating will be fun, but I don’t think that will be enough.  With the advent of January I will begin my month-long cleanse.  This year's iteration will contain a whole body cleanse… different than years past projects in that I mostly removed items from my diet.  Or last year when I tested out various diets.  This year has been one big long experiment in diet and eating and to end the year I need something to end it meaningfully.  Winter isn’t the time for intense tri training so that can’t be it either.  See, I have rather thought it through.
The thing that seems fitting is introspection.  But how is that a project?  At a time of year lent to parties, consumption of treats/alcohol,  and gift giving/receiving, how do I spend it introspecting without coming out feeling like I’ve missed out on the joy of the season?
So, my project.  Something calming, warming, honoring of the season of fires, hibernating,  yet filled with holiday cheer.  I love a challenge .

What makes you happy

I finished reading a book that made me happy this morning.  Thus combining two things that make me happy: reading and quiet early mornings.  This book was written by a slow food adapter who gave serenity to every eating experience in the book.

I thought about what makes me happy this week, asking friends and FBers alike.  I thought myself for a while that it would be reading.  Often I answer that question with “reading a good book in a hammock”.  And while this definitely ranks way up there in my list of favorite things to do, the thing that makes me happy, the thing I do for me is yoga.

 

Yoga makes me happy.  I took teacher training about five years ago.  I thought I would teach and then I became afraid.  Not of teaching, but of missing out on my own practice.  Now.  I have even less time to myself and for myself and that concern remains.

 

But.  It might be time.

 

I think it is.

 

But will they come?

Colors

We spend so much time bitching about horrible Oregon summers that we forget about what Oregon does best.  FALL.  I love the colors of fall.  It is my favorite season.  I love the crisp air, the beautiful leaves and the grounding you feel from the blue skies, wet earth, and increased dark.  I find it ironic then that I woke up yesterday morning feeling a lack of color in my life.  I ended up feeling blue.  A little sad. 

Perhaps it is cyclical.  The leaves are falling, the dead of winter approaching and people are leaving right now.  Friends and family are taking on new adventures and exciting life changes.  I am left here.  So.  I feel blue.  A little empty.  Perhaps that is part of the season.  A grounding and awaking of what happens in life.  People go and in the spring the rains return, life comes forth from the earth and I will start on new adventures.  Maybe by then I will have clients and will be able to help them live a life of adventure and live it with vitality and wellness.  Perhaps the grounding I need this winter is to spend it healing me.  Then when the springs come I will be able to give to others.

Right now I am loving the cats playing on my lap.  Talk about primary food!

Today I am looking forward to a run in this beautiful weather.  And while I am out in this day I can enjoy the falling leaves, the wondrous colors and the possibilities life may yet have in store.

Roles

I play a few roles in my life: woman, mother, wife, daughter, student, and friend.  I have a hard time balancing them.  Am wondering if right now, what is stopping me is the fear of adding another - working woman - and failing at it.  I am already a failure at it, but starting again when I already feel like I barely get the other things done competetently.  Maybe a part of my brain stops me from trying.  Maybe part of me knows that adding something else in and failing would be too much for me.  And it isn't like I am doing any of my roles very well right now.  I frankly kinda suck. 

I feel like so much is wrong right now with my life.  Sure, everything is fine, but it is held on by a string.  Maybe I need the opposite - a total life overhaul - I don't know, but it can't be just adding one more thing.  That won't work.  There isn't that much of me left.  It is like that point where you pull and pull at silly putty where everything is finefinefine... OH! it broke.  Toooo far. 

Tooo far. 

Something needs to change.  Maybe that something is me.

Really?

Am I the only one that thinks of parenthood as work?  I don't think so, it just seems like I am the only one who talks about it.  That makes sense in a way.  I have always been the voice of pessismism or reason (depending on your perspective).  The public voice (the voice everyone portrays on FB, at group outings, to their groups of people) is one of happiness and how wonderful their children are.  Sometimes I feel like I am the only who who truly needs to communicate when I feel the opposite is true.  My son is a pain in the ass.  He back talks constantly, has massive attitude (high school level) and whines to the point of whinging by the end of most days.  He is also beautiful, articulate, soooo scary intelligent, and oddly adult-like in his ability to know what you are talking about even when you can't say it.

But is that what I think about most days?  Nope.  Most days I live in the muck, the shit (sometimes literally) and piss of being a parent.  Parenting isn't fun.  It isn't nice.  It's a job.  A job with ridiculously long hours and little pay.  A job where at the annual review you get told you need to spend less time talking to other people (or you will get head-butted) and more time playing legos.  A job so tiring that at the end of each day I can barely talk.

Which means life sucks most days.  Is it worth it?  That is debatable.  Will I endure?  That I will.  Not always for me.  But for my husband and son and mother.  Because they love me.  support me.  and know what I am talking about.  right now.

First

I completed my first health history Tuesday night.  I was concerned and excited about doing it, but was so glad I did it.  I learned quite a bit about myself as well as a whole ton about someone else.

What did I learn (or was reminded of)?
- I am shy about asking highly personal data (even though most of this is highly personal)
- Most people love to talk about themselves
- Listening well is hard, but rewarding
- Apparently I have a soothing phone voice (could have used that in other potential careers?)
- This job is going to rock
- My own life experience, while quite unique, can lead me to the same place as others
- It is fun learning/meeting new people
- I'll stop here - this list is starting to get inane

Cyclical

I just finished reading a great book by Isabel Allende (who I love) about Haiti and Louisiana in the late 1700 and early 1800s.  Slavery of course was a main theme in the book as the characters were mostly slaves, free blacks and slave owners.  That isn't the point of this post though.

What I find interesting is when they mention the fact that slaves would wear their babies on their back and breastfeed their children, keeping them attached to them for the first 3-6 months until they were cared for by an older women on the plantation.  Meanwhile the white people would birth a baby and it would almost immediately be taken away to a slave who would breastfeed it.  If the the baby wouldn't take the milk then it would be given a rice or amaranth grain milk.

And this separation between mother and child of the upper classes continued through the revolution, the 1800s and 1900s until the 50s or 60s when the La Leche League and other groups of mothers got together and changed it. 

Now what is in vogue?  Attachment parenting, increased preference given to breastfeeding and if that doesn't work, a grain-based formula... How interesting that we are now living in a time that is trying to get back to what was natural in the 16, 17 and 1800s!  From locavores to urban farming to attachment parenting we are trying to simplify our lives and stop being so detached from the cycle of life.

Good for us, but what has taken us so long?

I need to be more childish

In the last few days I've noticed my son getting really excited for corn. We saw corn at the grocery store and he really wanted me to spell corn for him. It is crazy. It has been 9 months since he ate corn? And he is SOOOO excited to eat corn again. It made me realize that I should appreciate things like corn in my life.

So, here are my simple pleasures or corn-list if you will:
-Balancing a handstand for longer than 15 seconds
-Balancing elbow stand for as long as I feel like being there
-Listening to my son's crazy laugh
-Hearing my hubbend laugh (it is rare, but awesome)
-Sitting in the sun reading a really good book
-Reading a really good book
-A wonderful evening with a friend when we truly engage in dialogue
-Large raucous family gatherings
-Playing rummikub with my parents
-12 minute conversations with mamaw

There are more. I just need to appreciate my simple pleasures more often I think. Take a lesson from the son. And just laugh like crazy.


Oh, and yes I know the title should be "child-like", but I liked my title better :)

Storybored

Everyone has stories that make up who they are. Stories they may or may not tell others, but most definitely tell themselves. Some are broad - about your upbringing. Others are more specific - they explain why you behave a certain way in certain circumstances.

I have stories about moving a lot as a kid (no, my dad wasn't in the army). I have stories about my mom not eating food in front of me. I also have stories about friends, friends that fucked me over so bad that I'm a bit fucked up about friends.

But here's the thing. These stories are only pieces of me. It seems that when someone has a problem they look outside themselves and blame others. Often, they attribute the problems to some fundamental characteristic of that other person. Often they attribute their own responsibilities to something outside themselves or their control.

So, my story about moving a lot. I started out a shy kid. I have always loved to read, play soccer and play the piano. These aren't necessarily things that made me outgoing. So, we moved a lot and I stayed shy. It manifests itself differently these days. I am still shy, but probably most people don't know that. It looks awkward and trust me, I feel awkward. But, true to my upbringing I try my best to be polite and kind. I can be catty, but that is another story :).

Story two - I don't actually recall my mom eating with us. She was always serving us great, healthy food and I know she sat down and I know she ate, but I just didn't see it. I began at a very early age to hide the "bad foods" that I ate. I would hear someone come down the stairs and I would take my cookies and run. Of course, when my dad asked why all the cookies were gone I guiltily denied it. I didn't know until years later that my mom was doing the same thing.

Is it my mom's fault I have eating issues? Nope. Well, maybe it was, but it is mine now. I just can't stop thinking about those cookies in the pantry. And as much as I want to have a smooth calm life, mine is destined differently.

OK. The last one. It kind of relates to the first in a way, but in the teens and twenties I really got fucked over by friends. Not once, not twice, but three times were people (I mean women) horrendous friends in an increasingly almost evil manner. I've actually been semi-stalked by a woman. How creepy is that? So, it might not surprise you to find out I have friend issues.

Except - wait a second. These stories are beginning to sound old. Hubbend and I moved to Oregon, started clean, hunkered down for a few years and stuck to ourselves. But in the past few years we have started to come out of our shells, make friends and surround ourselves solely with good people. Good friends. I made a list earlier this week of people I truly care about expecting it to have three people on it. It was WAYYYYY longer than that.

So, not to get too Landmark-y on you, I think I need to stand in the clearing and declare my stories dead. I am a good friend and I no longer need to stand behind an old story. I have lost a lot of weight and no longer need to apologize for my size. I have lived in Oregon longer than I have anywhere in my entire life and I now feel I belong.

Goodbye old stories. Hello new ones. And thank you for being in my life. And thank you for leaving my past out of it. Oh, and if you want to be on my list, please let me know, I'd love to add you to it. Chances are though, you probably already are.