Serving My Marriage

                                                                                                                          *Photo by the amazing Kara Stewart

I do not want to be a part of the disintegration of my marriage.

I want to build what I could easily destroy.  Love what I could hate.  Serve when my expectations would want to be served.  Be present when I want to avoid. 

This man I married, may I always love him, encourage, protect, speak well of, give wholeheartedly, demand less, thank more, and always delight and arouse him.

This is my heart as a wife. 

They say it takes two to break a marriage.  I don't want any part in it.  I don't want a list of reasons or excuses.  When he fails me, may I remember his destiny.  Let my words always see ten steps ahead.  I don't want to be a woman pointing at what is before me, but one who reminds him of where he is going.  I don't want a list of reasons or excuses, why I deserve different.  There is no better than what I have.  I promised my life to this union and each day I want to live fully committed to this man.

So when we lie in bed and I remember we haven't taken the kids to the bathroom, I jump up and take them, without pushing the equally exhausted man out to do it for me.  His joy that it's taken care of, is more than reward enough.  Even when it's a close cuddle, kiss in the hair, and half asleep whispered thank you.  He is important and every way I can, I want to show him.

When our children are bickering, let me be the first to put my book or email away and stand to parent.  Despite how easy it feels in a moment to call from the other room.  Even when it feels like what I am doing is more important.  Let me not live fully dependent on him to fix every broken thing, but enjoy that when he is there he is quick to rush to fill any need.

When he acts in a way I don't agree, may I be found silent.  When I need to speak let it be privately with gentleness, love, and encouragement.  Remembering that 'a soft word turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger'.

May I always believe the best.  When I start to worry or doubt, let my heart trust what I cannot prove.  May I push my fear aside, knowing that he is all he claims to be and let my heart rest, believing he is even better.

I want to see the man he is called to be and let him work out his journey while I stand beside cheering him on.  May I never point out his flaws or weaknesses.  Simply call out his strengths, reminding him of his great destiny. 

When he is tired, may I be a place of rest.

When he is hungry, let the work of my hands nourish him.

When he needs me, may I satisfy him.

I have found that the more I pour into our marriage, the more I am blessed with in return.  He is quick to surround and encourage me.  As we strive for the other’s best we each reap so great a reward.  It is not in the desperation of personal need that achieves gain, but the delight in serving what is not asked or expected.  We each are the others best defense and greatest support.

It takes two, but you won't find my hands pulling this apart.  I want to give my life to be the best choice he has ever made.  He is the best decision of my life.  So, when you see me building and strengthening, it is because I'm shoring us up for all the storms that life brings.  That when they come we are safe in a house built on a solid foundation.

Let grace sustain, faith lead, hope direct, and trust surround this tender journey of two becoming one.

New Years Day.

Happy New Year!

What an exciting day.  I love the start of the new year, the freshness that comes from a blank slate.  I plot out my goals and hopes for how I want the year to go.

This start is the most interesting I've yet to experience.  My house has been placed in storage, my husband is 4 hours away, and we have no idea what is going to come next.  We thought we had everything lined up and then all of the doors that seemed wide open, shut in our faces.

It's an adventure and I am looking forward to enjoying every moment.  My children and I are up at my parents house, enjoying the fresh mountain air, and the soul cleansing that comes from being in the country.

We have no idea what this year holds, but we plan to find a landing place, to settle, to cultivate deep roots.  There's a lot of blind faith and trust happening in our hearts.

I am not clouding my new year with resolutions.   I don't want to tip the scales toward failure.  I've set some goals that I look forward to reaching and I hope to take you along the journey.  I'll be blogging regularly about health and wellness, reaching goals, posting recipes, and living a rich and satisfying life.

I'm excited for this year and I hope that you are, too.  I wish you well, the fulfilling of your dreams.

Figs and Death

So, about the time my mother tried to kill me. . .

We were riding our horses home from the rodeo and cut through the apple orchard growing along the road.  My mom grabbed a couple figs off of this mammoth tree, that grew in the corner of the orchard.  It seemed harmless enough.  We were all plodding along, tired from a full day, racing barrels and chasing pigs.  (Did I mention I grew up in the country?  I'm a small town girl, in every way.)  Then my step sister, who just happened to be sitting behind me on our old palamino pony, decided that she wanted to try a fig.  My mom nosed her horse until she was next to us and just as she reached out her hand to offer the rich purple fruit, her horse bit mine, and my little pony who was more fire than nice took off like a shot.  This may seem harmless enough, but I had begged my mom to keep her horse away.  You see, I knew my horse hated my mom's and that this would end in tragedy.  Luckily it was my hand and not my life. My sweet dad, raced his horse to stop the charging little beast, only to have her come to an abrupt stop and send both of us tumbling over her head.  Not my best moment in horsemanship.  We both sent up a howl of agony, someone twisted a finger, another smashed their head against a rock.  No one ate the offered fig.  We climbed back on the damned pony, more tired and sore than before.  It was many years before I ate an offered fig.

Now, that I have survived my childhood, I find them to be one of my most favorite treats.  I don't eat them often, but when they come in season, I must fill my plate with their delectable goodness.

Today I enjoyed a fig salad.

~recipe

I mixed about two cups of mixed greens with about 2T cherry vinaigrette. (3/4cup cherry balsamic vinegar, 1/4cup olive oil, salt and pepper to taste, blend in a blender.  Store in the refrigerator.)  I chopped up about three figs and mixed them with the lettuce and dressing, then topped with a tablespoon goat cheese, two tablespoons roasted pistachios, and two more chopped figs.  It was heaven.  If you are wondering what to do with those beautiful little fruits, please try this.  You will not regret it.  :)

Cotton Candy and Kids

"Mom?!  Is this cotton candy good for my body?"

"Nope."

"Oh.  I guess I don't want it."  

"You may have it sweetheart, just don't eat it all.  Sweets are okay sometimes."

Teaching your children how to enjoy treats is not easy.

Some parents are much better at this than I.  If there is candy within a 100ft radius, I will sniff it out, and eat every bite.  I do not have a grid for when to stop.  I always want to believe that I will stop tomorrow, but that is a lie.  I love treats and sweets too much, I think that I will always desperately crave them.  And yes, I am eyeing your dessert, please don't ask if I'd like a bite, I will eat it all.

I am a health nut who longs to put only the best things in her body and craves snickers like a crack addict.  Many out there talk about when the desire for sweets subsides, and it does, but for some of us it is really just lurking out of sight.  You never know when, after my day of eggs, avocados, nuts, and countless tons of veggies you'll come home to find me face down in an empty ice cream container.  It's a sneaky bugger.

And I am the person who is supposed to teach her kids about self control.  Me.  It's like a bad joke.  Or tell them not to eat sweets.  When in actuality I want to say, "Yes, cotton candy is hell on your body, but who cares, lets see who can finish their bag first."  I don't do that, I think it, I want to say it, but I just stand there, sharing as much truth as a normal, sane, adult would and let them make their own decisions.

Sometimes they choose to go for the treat and other days they reach for a banana instead.  It's not because I am a great role model.  I'm not, but I do try really, really hard to teach them to make healthy, unemotional choices.  I do my best to do the same.

No, I will not ever be a parent with a candy drawer.  I won't have a candy dish, and if there is ice cream in the freezer, it's only because I haven't found it yet.

I wish that I was wildly controlled.  That I didn't stare too long at the candy next to the check out counter.  That when my son says, "hey mom, we should get ice cream" I wouldn't hesitate before saying no.

I don't always say no.  I just try very hard to say no a few times a week.  I love junk food.  It seems painfully unfair that it should wreak such wretched havoc on my body.  I know it is doing the same to my children and that makes me want to push harder, to be stronger.  

I never want my daughter to think we don't eat certain foods because they will make us fat.  That has never been and will never be the reason.  We are not afraid or concerned with fat.  We are very aware of loving and treating our bodies with value and respect.  We believe that food is medicine and if you want to be healthy, look young, and feel good you need to be careful what you consume.  

While I'd rather be racing you through a banana split, I'm going to sit here, eat my carrots, and try and find as many ways as possible to make vegetables more appealing.  Maybe sneak a hunk of dark chocolate now and then.

Living with Food.

We all have a relationship with food.

Regardless of whether you could label yourself with an eating disorder, if food makes you anxious, if you feel guilt when you eat, if food brings you pleasure, if you diet, if it's a way to show you care, you have a relationship with food.  We all eat and live with varying degrees of satisfaction, pleasure, guilt, or shame for what we've put in our bodies.

In overcoming eating issues, I have had to learn to accept food.  You cannot abstain from food as you would alcohol or cigarettes.  Food is not something to be worked off.  It is fuel for your mind, for your muscles, for your soul.  My body, especially my mind, is incredibly sensitive to what I eat.  If I consume gluten or processed foods, it sends instant messages telling me I need more.  It doesn't matter how long I have abstained from those foods, eating just one bite sends my mind into hyper drive and I will make myself sick before I stop eating the oreos.  Because I know this, I am responsible to do my best to eat the foods that fuel my body, without making me desperate for more.  

I choose to eat mostly raw, fresh foods.  I am not a big meat eater, because I don't have any desire for it.  I fuel myself with fruits, vegetables, and nuts.  I cannot diet.  Dieting has always been an excuse for me to binge.  When I come to a meal, I do my best to be grateful that I can enjoy healthy foods and I settle myself in a place to enjoy each bite.  Food is both nourishment and pleasure.  If you are eating with guilt and shame you aren't enjoying anything you put in your mouth.  I can't tell you how often I would sit in front of the computer reading health blogs, while shoveling a pint of ice cream in my face.  I didn't taste the treat, felt sick when I was done, and more than a little guilty.  Now when I choose ice cream, I like to make it myself, with young coconuts and agave nectar.  Then, I sit with my family and eat out of the bowl, interacting with them and enjoying my treat.

I have been starting the last few days with a big cup of coffee, my favorite thing, and fresh fruit until noon.  I try to drink a cup of hot water with lemon before my coffee, but that doesn't always happen.  I have been drinking lots of water throughout the day.  The other day I spent the whole day out with different friends.  I was not in control of my food choices, so I did the best I could.  Even eating mostly fruits and veggies, by the end of the day, the processed foods I had consumed had my mind imagining all of the other things I could eat.  "Well, I already had chips, a little ice cream won't hurt. . . "  

Knowing this to be something I have to work through I brushed my teeth, drank some water, and bugged my husband until he connected with me and helped keep my mind off the monster in my head.  

I don't like to say that I will never eat certain foods, or label my style of eating.  A few of the hardest things when learning to eat well are being okay if you mess up and not allowing that to mean you fell of the wagon, because you aren't in a wagon in the first place.  I'm not a raw foodist, vegan, paleo, etc, etc.  I'm just trying to be healthy.  There are times I need a treat.  There are times that I will indulge.  Eating and connecting are beautiful parts of life.  They should neither fill you with shame, regret, or fear.  They should be enjoyed and embraced.  

I hope to encourage everyone out there, whether they have ever had issues with food, have felt uncomfortable in their bodies, or not known when to stop; what true freedom with food looks like.  It's more yeses than noes, more pleasure than pain.  

We all have to live with food, let's enjoy it.

An Honest Revealing of Self.

Hi, thanks for stopping by my blog.  I’m wild, passionate, spontaneous, and I’m pensive, poetic, and emotional.  It depends on the day, the level of quality time I’ve shared with friends, and the weather, and probably the food I’ve eaten.

I am a mom.  A wife.  A daughter.  A friend.  

My life has been a mix of pain and joy.  There have been seasons of perfection and times of tragic pain.  I come from a long line of women with eating disorders.  Women who, while amazing, strong, and vibrant, couldn’t seem to find peace with food.

I have been afraid of food since I was 12.  I was in seventh grade when I first learned that girls were supposed to diet, eat less, take diet pills, anything to be thin.  I tried to stop eating so much.  Not easy for a farm girl raised on horses, constant activity, and huge platters of steak, with apple pie for dessert.  I didn’t make it a constant focus, I was just aware that I should always be skinny.  

My weight would go back and forth, but not too much.  I had this friend and every time we were together she would tell me we should exercise so we could lose 15 pounds.  I learned there is always weight to be lost.

My sister dabbled in bulimia.  She tried, it wasn’t for her and she continued life, tall, thin, and model perfect.  At 5 inches shorter, you see a bit more of what I eat on my body.  When I tried, I didn’t just dabble.  I went at it like I do life, full throttle.  

In my early twenties, I was in a painful relationship that dragged on for too many years, I just stopped eating.  I was trying desperately to control a world that had me trapped between my first love and family and friends who couldn’t stand him.  I lied, I was ashamed, and I avoided food like the plague.  

When the relationship finally ended and I found myself in a small midwest town, alone.  I ate and I purged.  It felt so good to let my world slip wildly out of control in boxes of donuts, tubs of ice cream, and mounds of chocolate, then right itself again head down, over the toilet, puking my guts out.

Figuring I needed a break, I went home for a few months, to heal, to find balance.  Because of a painful childhood I had spent most of my life in counseling, I knew all the tools I needed to work through what I was struggling, but I couldn’t quite find my way.  I went to a woman who terrified the life out of me and she walked me through the emotional side.  I read Geneen Roth’s books.  I gobbled up everything I could to try and find freedom.  My sister wanted to institutionalize me.  She’s a little short on compassion and because she is in total control of herself had no concept for my needing to work it out.  She wanted me better right then.  So, I stopped throwing up.  I would eat as much as I could hold and punish myself with fasting the next day, barely any food the next few, and as much exercise as I could handle.  I still started to gain weight.  I also slowly started to stop punishing myself quite so extensively.  I started to look a bit like a chipmunk.  I was a little okay with that.  I just desperately wanted to be okay with food.  To not fear every time dinner was served.  

A good friend of mine had been a raw foodist at that time, for a few years.  I remember being overwhelmed by the idea of eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  I usually ate one big meal and a party size bag of m&ms.  I started experimenting more with food.  Trying out flavors and combinations.  For a born baker whose family hails from the south this was definitely new ground for me.  Though my mom has always been on the forefront of nutrition and the health movement, this was taking it to new heights.

Really I just started eating raw cookies.

I found a job back in my hometown and I started to find freedom.  I was at my heaviest weight.  I met the man who in a few months would be my husband.  There is something precious for a girl who fears fat like the plague to meet a guy who thinks she’s beautiful when she’s at her highest weight.  

Nine months later we were married and living in Madison, WI.  I had managed to find a sort of peace with my weight and was focused on life in a new city married to an amazing man.  Then I got pregnant.  It wasn’t the plan and it took me a while to reconcile to this new turn that life had taken.  I gained weight.  I was pregnant with an amazing boy and he just turned my narrow hips to thunder thighs, gave me a triple chin, and had me looking a bit like an oompa loompa.  When he was born I was determined to be the best mom I could be.  Part of that was not being overweight.  

I monitored what I ate.  I focused on small servings and because I was constantly attending to my baby, food became a very small thing in my world.  I rarely finished meals because I would need to nurse or change a diaper.  There was always something and I threw myself in to being a mom.  I got thin.  Very, very thin.  We moved back to California and life was full and beautiful.  I was thin because I nursed, because everything was so good I didn’t need food to fill any voids.  I was happy and part of a sweet little life.

When I got pregnant with my daughter, I grew a big belly and kept my skinny arms and legs.  I looked like a spider.  Food wasn’t an issue for me.  I lost my baby weight in the first month of having my daughter.  She nursed, I shrank and it was good.

Then we sold our first house at a loss and bought a second older home, needing quite a bit of work. I started to stress a little.  Eat a little more.  My son was 2 1/2 and a handful.  I had well meaning individuals telling me I needed to have him tested, he could be on the spectrum.  I was panicked that I was doing something wrong.  We cut out gluten, dairy, and sugar.  It felt incredible.  Our lives were calm and peaceful.  We were figuring things out.  I was highly controlled by our diet, but there was a visible change I could see so we kept going.  Then we went on vacation and we cheated.  I would try to get us back to our ‘healthy’ ways of eating, but it felt like constant try and fail.  

We moved, again.  To the northern California coast.  It was 55 dgerees and grey all the time.  I had a three year old and a one year old.  I needed family, friends, and lots of support and I lost them all.  I was lonely and struggling.  So, I turned to food.  I would try to restrict everything we ate to find some control, only to fall back in to popcorn and wine the moment the kids were in bed.  I’d go gluten free, until I didn’t.  It was constant back and forth.  Which was a lot like my childhood.  I was allergic to everything, so my mom would restrict me for a week and then she wouldn’t.  So I would learn to not eat pie or eat the whole pie.  I had lost all boundaries and connections with food except as a means to fill my lonely life.  We moved two years later to the bay area and the cycles I had begun to overcome came right back.  I eat when I’m lonely, when life gets too quiet, when I feel lost.  

It’s taken a while, but I’ve found a measure of peace with food.  I know that when I’m lonely I want to eat.  I know that if I try to restrict myself, I will binge.  It is best for me to avoid any and all dieting.  I’m working out my food allergies and finding what works and what doesn’t.  I did the whole 30 diet for a little over a week and I felt amazing.  Diet’s however aren’t sustainable for me and are mostly a chance to binge the day before.  I’ve had to make them off limits.  I simply try to eat the best I can.  Without fear.  

I am doing my best  as a wife, a mother, a friend, a woman.  There is so much that I have learned on this life journey.  I hope that through my successes and failures I can encourage you.  I will be sharing more about my relationship with food and I hope that you find encouragement.

T

 The bottom picture was taken by Kara Stewart.  It is our most recent family picture.  I am 31.
The top was taken by my husband on our journey across the country.  I was 24.

So much life has happened in between.

An imperfect life.

I am a wannabe perfectionist.  I like the idea of doing everything perfectly.  I like order.  I like things to be exactly correct all of the time.

I find that I am often obsessing about how to pull myself more completely together.  How I should be better.  How I should actually stick to those lists I love to make.

In reality, I am shamefully imperfect.  I try.  And try.  And try.  And fail.

Then I feel discouraged and sad.

I really ought to be better.  But, I'm not.

I should admit here that I find the post "Messy house, but we have love, laughter, life" - thoroughly annoying.  I know that's' not exactly how it goes, but you get the drift.   I like a clean house with love, laughter, life.

I have two children.  I am a stay at home mom.  This is very feasible.  Yet, I've found that very often I am pushing my children away so I can clean.  I'm working so tirelessly at something that really doesn't matter that much.

I know it's not perfect, but I've let my house go.  My husband is amazing, he simply smiles and tells me it looks like a lot of life has been lived in our home.  And it has.

We live.  Sometimes it's perfectly clean, but usually there is a line of toys from one room to another.  There is a stack of books that need to be mended and there is always laundry.

I am not perfect.

I'm not even a perfect mom.  Sometimes I get frustrated.  I have found it's easier to react than teach.  I try very hard to teach.  Sometimes I react.

When I go out, I look like a mom.  There are moments I look like a woman, but mostly it's just this mom look that hangs like a shroud.

I probably would have been mortified when I was 14 or even 21 to know that this is what I would grow in to.

I should probably be mortified to admit to you that I like me.

I like my imperfection and my messy house.  I like my kids with watermelon dripping down their chins and running to give me hugs when they're dripping wet and I'm not.

I want to be perfect.  I'm not.

I guess I'm embracing my imperfections.  Enjoying the moments of my life that grab and shake and rattle me, until I can't breathe, then collapse in the aftermath.

This is not a giving up.  Rather it's the freedom to fully enjoy this masterpiece of a life.

I don't like failures.  I would rather be imperfect than worry about failing.

My perfect little ship has sailed.  It was never really mine to begin with, just the illusion others used to whisper in my ear.  But, they are long gone and now it's the dawning of a life lived with handprints on the window.

Cause really.   Who got time for that?!

Making a Change.

I sat out, under the pomegranate tree the other day.   It was early morning and the air still held the chill and mystery of the night.  I held a hot cup of coffee, laced with cream.  My children sat in front of  me, bowls of oatmeal, just the way they liked it.  One with sucanot and milk, the other raisins and milk.  They took small bites.  I leaned my head back enjoying the moment.  The calm before the rush of the day took over.  Then it came, more suddenly than I expected.

"I don't want to eat anymore.  I just want to drink coffee, like you, mom."  Judah stared at his bowl as if it had suddenly landed from the moon.  His spoon dripping clumps of oatmeal back into the bowl.  Disgust lined his face.  

I didn't know what to say.  Obviously my example was wrong and I was setting it deep into the still permeable stone of youth.  

I hate breakfast.  Really, I do.  It rarely fills me up and I find that I'm still starving at twelve.  I just don't want to teach my kids that coffee is the way to start their day.  

I'm not vowing that I will eat breakfast every day.  I am going to try.  Today was the first and I managed to wait on my coffee and eat a whole bloody egg.  Thanking God for his bounty and praying my heart would shift.

You see I am not a good example in regards to food.  I don't mean to be, but I have my own issues handed down from my parents who received the same from theirs.  It's a complicated generation of eaters I come from.  But, I know one thing for certain.  I want to hand something better to my children. I want to teach them to enjoy, to eat to satisfaction, to appreciate what they are given.  I just wish it didn't have to start with me.  That somehow they could come to this on their own and I wouldn't have to undo thirty or so years of eating disfunction to teach them something better.

I am going to try.

I am quickly discovering that I am something of a closet eater.  I almost never sit while I eat.  I pick while I make my children plates, then I assist them through their meals, eating when they're finished.  I should admit that at this point I'm rarely picking on a salad, rather I'm munching a handful of corn chips, while I clean up the kitchen.  Or I'm too full from taste testing dinner to eat at the table with my family.  A glass of wine is probably not what I want my kids to think makes a healthy meal.  I eat, though.  A lot.  They just don't see me eat.  Okay and I do hide in my room with the door locked eating a bowl of ice cream while scouring the internet.  Hmmm.  Time for a shift?  I should say so.

In every way, except hiding with my bowl of ice cream.  If my children knew how many treats that I eat every day, they would refuse to consume a healthy morsel of food ever again.  Some things are better kept in hiding.  (yes, I know nothing is ever really secret)

Food is important.  Meal time is a special place to pause and enjoy while hearing all about the thoughts and dreams that run rampant through my children's minds.  It is a ritual that I want to train them to value and appreciate.  Learning that they are important and how they fill their bodies is an essential key to long and healthy life.  I know too much about health and nutrition to not hand my children the same keys, the same road map to success.  With it, I'll have to sacrifice my own bad habits, in pursuit of teaching them to love and value themselves.

Never Enough.

I have to admit that I put myself under quite a bit of stress.  I'm always certain that I should be better, perform harder, do more, be more.  It is very rare that I am able to just rest in the reality that this is who I am.  That I am exactly the me I should be.  That who I am, what I am, brings value to the world and those around me.

I bought the Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred DVD a few months back.  I have to be honest, I didn't expect it to literally destroy me, punch me in the face, telling me I've believed a false message of lethargy!  What the heck!  I thought taking the stairs was a good idea.  Regardless, I've been exercising.  Fully loving how it feels to get back in shape.  It's been a while.  My kids were too little, I had too much milk to deal with, etc.  The excuses were endless.  Until I was finally dissatisfied enough to pursue a change.   Getting stronger just feels good.

However. . . I signed up for Jillian's health and wellness emails and suddenly I was inundated with the idea that I need to eat less, eat low fat foods, cut out sugar, only drink water, don't breathe, don't frown (you'll wrinkle), be less, do more.  And.  Well.  It's easy to jump into that.  Especially when you're unhappy with how you see yourself and you want the change to happen right now.

I could feel myself stressing, 'OH NO! I ate after eight, I didn't stop when I was full, I had a peace of chocolate cake!  I am now going to be fat and I will never look like the hard bodies on pinterest!'  Sob.  Sob.  Gulp.

And yeah, bummer.

Law will destroy you.  Every time!

Yes, there are times that you need to be a little strict and push for a change.  However, if you are constantly living under negative self talk, stressing about everything you eat, you're probably not going to be successful, or you will - only to put it all right back on.

I thought I'd share a couple tools that have hugely helped me reach a happy, healthy place with my eating, my body, my weight.

I pursue loving myself.  It isn't easy for me to find the good in my looks or my body.  I tend to be uber critical.  But, when I start to focus on what I am good at, even if I can't see it, that I am beautiful.  Some of that judgement starts to fall off.

Live in GRACE!!  Don't stress if you binge, or you ate past a certain time, if you had one of your I'll 'never' foods.  It can be so easy to jump on a wagon and then devastating when you fall off.  Rather walk as close to the wagon as you can, then one day you'll realize you've been riding in it and it's no longer scary or forced.

I am absolutely not an expert in any way.  I mostly have a healthy diet.  I am aware of foods that I struggle with and I try to avoid them, but I'm learning sometimes I won't and that's okay.  I am okay.

After having my kids, I could feel the stress of trying to get all of the weight off.  Striving to instantly be back in shape.  Every article, person, doctor said to take my time.  I constantly heard 'you took 9 months to put this weight on, give yourself that long to take it off'.  It can be discouraging when the scale seems to move so slowly, but as you choose to continue changing habits and focus more on living fully, being healthy, and exercising - that number will move.  Don't worry.

I hope that everyone who is pursuing their health is able to enjoy each and every accomplishment without the weight of any little failures holding them back.  Enjoy your life, your day, you.




I was hoping to post my granola recipe - which is a little bit of heaven.  But, I realized last minute I need a couple things.  I'll do my best to have it up tomorrow.

Blessings.  Cherylyn

Living with sugar. or without.

We all know that I love sugar.  I do, I do, I do.  

I wish my husband shared my addiction.  

I wish I could eat one cupcake.  (not all the cupcakes)

I wish vanilla cream and chocolate did not have a voice.

I wish that snickers were health food.

I wish that donuts grew on trees.  I would be sure to eat only the organic ones. 

I wish that sugar didn't override my 'off' switch.

I wish that sugar could be banned, not sold at stores, not sitting in my pantry, not wafting through the air at the fair.

If only my wishes could be reality.

Unfortunately, I am one of millions of people who live fully addicted to sugar and sweets.

About a year ago I wrote a post, confessions of a sugar addict.  I have to admit I've been shocked at the amount of views that one post gets.  Since so many of us seem to struggle with this, I thought I'd share more about what I am doing to free myself of this addiction.

Last year, I tried ridding my diet of all sugars/sweets.  I managed to do so for about 2-3 weeks, but then fell into a bowl of ice cream and just had to take a bite.

After being off of sugar, reintroducing it to my diet, at first, is met with complete rejection.  I usually can't eat much and it makes me feel pretty sick.  Then, slowly it begins to build -  the need for more.  Until I'm once more groaning on the floor, pulling one more powdered sugar coated eclair into my mouth, barely finding the strength to chew.  Not even tasting it's delicious sweetness.

Have you seen Something About Mary?  No?  Well, I won't recommend it, but there's a sub story about a guy who was off of coke and his friend gets him to take a drink of a beer, telling him of course this won't restart your addiction.  Which it does, because we are all just a moment away from being coke heads - duh!  (Don't do drugs - you will be addicted to heroin if you smoke pot!  yes, I believe this.  It's kept me drug free.)  

Anyway, back to the coke guy - who is also one of my favorite actors - he eventually gets eaten by his python.  

And that, folks, is what sugar will do to you.  It's just one bite between you and python crushing death.

I'd rather live! and be beautiful while doing it.  There is nothing more toxic for my complexion than sweets.  Even knowing this and just imagining what it must be doing on a cellular level, it's been incredibly difficult to keep away from them.

As of today I have been off of refined sugar for 5 days.  Yay for me!!  However, unlike last year I am not doing a complete ban of all sweets.  I will happily indulge in any treat made with honey, grade B maple syrup, molasses, sucanot, rhapadura, or agave.   (I am careful with agave and maple syrup, because both of these tend to cause me to overeat - just not quite to the caramel dripping off my chin - eyes glazed over - state.)

I think we need treats.  They're like medicine to a long day or a special splurge for a job well done.  However, choosing to eat only the best sweets helps hold them in higher regard and keeps us from those very embarrassing moments, such as when you're husband comes downstairs at 2am only to find you in the middle of the kitchen, pie tin in hand with the whole carton of ice cream in the middle.  Oh, that hasn't happened to you?  

Here's to my quest for a healthy body, beautiful skin, organic energy, and invitations to more events - now that everyone knows I won't be writhing ecstatically in the middle of the dessert table.  It's always a little awkward when that happens.

And. . . yesterday at our small group get together - I didn't eat a brownie or lick the pan or sneak one when no one was looking or come home and have a giant bowl of ice cream or take a bite of the whipped cream and chocolate on my husband's frappaccino.  Can you believe my level of self control?!  I am amazing.   If only I knew I were invincible.  But I know I'm really just a sip away from that python's stomach. 

saying hello to change.

There's a shift happening.  A firm wind is blowing.  I can feel it swirling around me.  A shudder of anticipation mixed with fear shakes me.  Change.  It's staring me in the face and I cannot look away.  No matter how desperately I wish that I could.

I love change.  The way most of us do.  When it's happening to anyone else.  Unless, your shift effects my life, then let's be frank, not such a fan.

Even good change takes work.  Settling in, learning a new way.  Forming different habits.  I am a creature of habit.  Truly.  When I wake up, I want to stumble half blind to the kitchen where I brew a big cup of coffee and spend the next hour shooing my kids away.  This is not fully realistic.  In actuality I have to carry two growing children down the stairs, make them breakfast, get them settled, then have my coffee.  Which at this point I typically feel I deserve, and to enjoy it without having balls thrown at my head.

Have you ever been committed to something, to the point that even when it's causing you pain you'll continue?  There have been many harmful things in my life, that I've struggled to walk away from.  I have to say, the biggest for me swirls around food.  I LOVE junk food.  I can barely make it out of the grocery store without raiding the candy next to the checkout.  I'll fill up on ice cream then moan on the couch.  My poor husband often wonders why I continue when it makes me so sick.  I guess the truth is that it wasn't making me sick enough.  Until lately.

Suddenly, or maybe it's been getting worse the last few months, or years, my kidneys ache, my body can barely function, I'm crippled with exhaustion, my skin is broken out, and now if I even touch wheat my stomach cramps for hours.  sigh.

You know how people can be too educated?  This is one of those areas that I knew too much, but didn't want to change my diet.  I knew that how I ate was hurting me, but I just didn't care.  I could eat junk without gaining weight and while I frowned at my complexion I wasn't motivated by it.

My mom is a health food nut.  Though her education in food and vitamins and minerals stemmed from a need to heal herself, she raised us knowing how to protect and care for our bodies.   I hit 18, bought a couple spray cans of whipped cream, some coke, a few snickers and ate myself silly.  As, I have continued for the last 11 years.

Since having children, I am much more careful about eating junk food and prefer the closet approach to letting my kids in on my binge.  There've been some moments as an adult that my family has been g/f, s/f, and d/f, but after a few months of clean living and even feeling amazing I've found myself returning to my old habits.    Mainly because I haven't seen (or felt) the absolute value and necessity in it, until recently.  As I feel the pain from every bite so distinctly, I'm losing all desire to continue in my ways.

For a long time it was just about restriction.  How, I was never going to eat such and such foods again, usually after a late night ice cream feast.  This is more of a plan on what I will eat.  How I'm going to do things differently.  Carefully choosing how I'll nourish my body and the growing bodies around my table.

And so change blows itself through the door of my house and we square off in the kitchen.  I can feel the fear of failure, the sense that it's going to be harder than I realize.  I could just give up, but that option is no longer on the table.  I want to have complete health, I want to be the best version of myself, I want to live long, because this life is no longer about me.

I thought I'd share with all of you, as I will probably be posting more about this new adventure.  I'm scared.  But, I'm more desperate than I've ever been and that's exciting.

Welcoming change.  It's a deep breath.  A shift that has to happen.  A blank page of adventure.

Blessings.

Raw goodness.

Just a quick recipe post.  

Because I am not eating any form of sugar.  yes, I know.  tears.  I have been making raw cookies.  They are an excellent treat and perfectly accompanied with a cup of unsweetened earl grey.  

2 handfuls soaked almonds

2 handfuls soaked pecans

1-2 t vanilla

2 t cinnamon

1/4 t salt

1/2 a lemon juiced

3/4 c soaked dates

a small handful raisins

I cook to taste, so my measurements are approximations.  I was out of lemon when I made this batch, but I usually add it at the same time as the vanilla. I also hadn't planned to make this so I didn't soak my nuts, usually I soak them over night.

put in your food processor and mix until completely combined.  You may have to add a little purified water to aid in the mixing, but not too much you don't want them to be very wet.  Sometimes I let them mix until there is not any nut texture left and when frozen they taste a lot like bon bons.  After mixing I shape into balls and freeze.  You could just throw into a container and freeze.  I've just found that the balls are easy to hand my kids and perfectly sized portions for them.