How Cutting All Animal Products Helped Me Regain Balance

Going back through my blog's history, I've found there are a TON of "Hey look I"m starting a new diet" posts, and nothing ever really stuck. I would start, full throttle on something, survive a few weeks (if that) and then fall off whatever bandwagon I'd been hitched to. I wanted to write about this one right away as well, but decided to hold off until I could actually report my findings, and not just my excitement for a new way of living. But here I am ready to report on my 5 months in on eating a whole foods, plant based diet....aka a vegan diet.

Kyle and I started after a particularly binge ridden few weeks, in an effort to detox our poor bodies, and shed a few extra pounds. We wanted to incorporate more vegetables, and after watching one Netflix documentary or another about the dangers of animal products, we decided to take a break. At the time, we didn't put a time limit on it, we just wanted to try something new.

While many people (myself included before making this change) see veganism as the equivalent of eating rabbit food with no flavor, I've found that this has worked for us. We eat a wide range of foods, even some of our favorites - just modified a little. The benefits range from clearer skin, more energy, reduced inflammation (aka no more sciatica pain for Kyle), weight-loss, and regulated hormones. (no more mood swings for me!) The biggest benefit I've found, however, is that my relationship with food has changed for the better.

As someone who struggles with binge eating, and has some dangerous food habits, this lifestyle change has made a tremendous difference in the way that I see and think about food. I've started to eat "intuitively," which pretty much means I eat when I'm hungry, and stop when I'm full. I rarely overindulge, and when I do, I don't sit there bemoaning myself for hours afterward. When we do eat vegan junk (trust me, there is plenty) we almost always follow it up with a big bowl of vegetables at our next meal. We no longer eat fast food, or out at restaurants at all really, and our meals are 95% fruits, vegetables, and whole grains.

I no longer feel the need to restrict anything because I've learned to listen to my body, and actually hear what it's saying. I eat as many carbs as I can get my hands on, and I still feel great at the end of the day. I have clarity when it comes to seeing what my body needs, and it's awesome. I no longer feel the need to calorie count, or "watch what I eat," because I've found the balance I've been craving. Ironic that cutting out over 30% of the average American diet lead to feeling balanced, but here we are.

I think part of this balance comes from the fact that a lot of the junk food we used to eat is no longer an option. By making these clear cut boundaries, it helps make choices for me. I no longer fight the urge to grab every cookie in the break room because I know they will make me sick for the rest of the day. Kyle made the point the other day, he doesn't even feel the need to get candy any more because all the good stuff is off limits (chocolate mostly.) There's nothing like the threat of debilitating stomach cramps to ward off any pesky cravings.

I would like to clarify: hold no judgement for anyone who eats animal products. Animal rights, reducing my carbon footprint, and lowering our grocery bill are all just nice side effects to me taking control of my own health, rather than the ultimate goal. I still get annoyed with vegans who feel the need to make other people feel bad for eating cheese. I understand that this lifestyle is not for everyone, and will cheer you on as you eat you bacon cheeseburger! You do you!

There are definitely things I still miss, but overall the benefits outweigh the downsides. I can get over not being able to have eggs for breakfast when it means I won't be a cranky pants all day. It's been a great experience for me, and while I can't say that I'll be doing this forever, I can say I'll be maintaining for the foreseeable future.

And to get even more new age and hippy on you, stay tuned for my next post about essential oils!

5 Things To Do When You're Stuck In A Rut

Every once in a while I get stuck in a rut. I feel my world creeping up around me, and can't seem to find the next step to break out. My creativity falls short, my health goes by the way side, and eventually dissatisfaction and negative attitudes are daily accessories.
Sometimes it takes moving across the country (cough cough) to kick those out of the way, but that shouldn't be my answer for everything (despite it sounding incredibly appealing sometimes.)
Most of the time, I have to find a way to break out of the rut right where I am, and with the resources I have in front of me.
I've recently broken free from a space like this, and I'd like to share a few things I did to help kick that negativity to the curb.

1. Unplug
Ironically this was prompted by plugging into a new podcast, but regardless I stand by it.
I started listening to a podcast on minimalism (The Minimalists) and in the first few episodes, they touch on how we are bombarded with technology, and have so much of it all the time. They mentioned cleaning out your phone (getting rid of apps you haven't used in the last month) and actively choosing to unplug. I tried this for a few days in a desperate attempt to break my candy crush habit. I tried to limit how much I was on my phone by setting limits at work, as well as at home. I pushed myself to set mini goals like "don't check your phone until lunchtime," or " no phone time for an hour before bed."
I noticed the effects almost immediately. I was sleeping better, could engage more fully in conversations, and was finding other ways to use all of that time. I became more productive, and felt the tingle of creativity starting to ignite again.

2. Stimulate
Related to the previous point, I find it's incredibly helpful to stimulate the parts of your brain that haven't been used in a while. Before last week, I couldn't tell you the last book I picked up to read. That's a little ridiculous. I'M A READER. It's what I do! Unfortunately, I'd let the every day tasks in life (as well as some Netflix and candy crush) replace something so precious to me. My books.
For some, stimulating your brain may be crafting, or painting, or doing puzzles. For me, it's reading. I've renewed my love for the library and plan to go every few weeks for some new books. The idea that there are new ideas out there just waiting to be discovered is incredibly exciting, and I am ready for it.
I've also picked up my writing again. Honestly, the first few days were filling out journal prompts from this book: 300 Writing Prompts. It was rough at first, and honestly I struggled. The prompts seemed boring, and it felt like I wasn't doing anything to further my pursuit in writing a book, so why try? Well, those journal entries turned into an article that I got published last week (If you missed it you can find it here) as well as a few pages started on a new creative projects (eeek!) Stimulating that part of my brain felt impossible. When creativity isn't readily available, I'm the first person to throw my hands in the air (And wave...wait) and act like I'll never get there, so why try? Sometimes a little (boring) stimulation can help get those creative juices flowing again.

3. Sweat
It doesn't have to be much, even just a walk around the block (or around Sprint Festival Plaza....heyyyo) can pluck you right out of that rut your digging. The other day I went running for the first time in who know how long. I took the dogs for a walk, and about 5 minutes in, decided I needed to push myself a little further. My body was craving that activity I'd denied it for so long. I ran for almost an hour, and it was refreshing. It was like I was pushing the sludge out of my muscles. That run turned into one gym session, and then another, and now I have set goals, and look forward to pushing my body to new limits. Getting outside, or to the gym, or even to your living room floor to get your heart pumping, and I promise you'll start to see the edge of that rut.

4. Cleanse
Your house, your face, your hard drive. Clean it all out. Taking the time to curate your belongings, and cut down to more of the essentials, as well as focusing on clearing out the dust and grime from all those nooks and crannies helps give way for fresh ideas, and new thinking. Having clean and tidy surroundings, helps motivate me to be my best self. If I have a clean house, I feel more put together and adult. I recently started doing facials again, and my skin feels amazing. These small things lead to making me feel like I can do anything.

5. Laugh
I'm really lucky in that I have a VERY funny husband. He can get me laughing in a matter of minutes. Sometimes, however, when I'm feeling stuck, or depressed, I don't let myself laugh. I scowl and get upset at something trivial and it ruins the moment. Letting go, and letting myself laugh at all of Kyle's rather silly antics helps loosen things up, and change my perspective. Whether it's a funny friend, or a funny movie, go find time to let yourself laugh.

Grief

Grief is an odd thing.
On one hand, it is an incredibly personal experience, and each person deals with it in their own way. It's unique to each situation, and the way we experience it can change day to day. On the other hand it's something to be expected. While each person may be dealing with it differently, there are life experiences where people expect to grieve. The loss of a parent is one of these experiences.
For those of you who do not know, or are not close to my family, my dad, Garrett Smith was diagnosed with stage 4 terminal cancer in May of this year. At that time, the doctors gave him six months to a year to live. He chose to forgo any kind of formal treatment, other than pain management, to help his quality of life.
After receiving the phone call that he was sick, and going to die, I was rather surprised at the way it affected me. I was overcome with a tidal wave of emotions. I struggled with the fact that there would be no reconciliation after this year. For the past 23 years of my life, I have not been close with him, and have done my part to keep my distance. There were feelings, thoughts, emotions, and dramas in that relationship that have colored the way I view him, and really everything surrounding him. But the picture in my head of us eventually making up, and finding that relationship every one talked about, was shattered.
At that point in time, Kyle and I decided together, to forget the past and focus on the time we had left. There was a man in Seattle who I knew virtually nothing about, but who had given me half of who I am. It was time to try and fix whatever I could.
While I cannot say the relationship is where I imagined it would be, I feel like it's in a better place than it was 6 months ago. I've said my piece, and feel like I've changed dramatically as a person. My thoughts and attitudes towards Garrett have improved. I'm no longer bitter about the relationship we never had, however, I am saddened by the relationship we will be unable to have.
As I've made my way through this grieving process, I've experienced a multitude of emotions. I've been angry, heartbroken, embarrassed, hopeful, depressed, and numb. I've felt multiple emotions at once, and none at all, within the same day.
Grieving a parent or loved one who has a terminal illness is a slow and painful experience. It doesn't go away, and it seems to get better, only for it to get worse. I've had days where all I say to Kyle is, "I'm fine." and other days when I cry standing in front of the produce aisle at the grocery store. There are days when I want every update I can get my hands on, and other days when I don't want to know anything, and just ignore the whole thing.
Most of the time, I'm uncomfortable, and trying to figure my way through all of this, and because it's such a weird experience, I don't talk about it. Yes, there are times I will share, but usually my day to day emotions are just mine (and shared with Kyle.) I have found, however, that writing my way through this, or at least some of it has helped untangle the mess.
As part of my grieving process, I've been making a list. This list is composed of things that I'll remember, as well as things I feel I've gotten from Garrett, despite our lacking relationship. Somehow I think things are passed along genetically, and I would like to share a few of those with you today.

1. My love of a good cup of coffee
A few weeks after we found out he was sick, Kyle and I made our way up to see him and Cyndi for the day. We spent the day chatting, and catching up, and while we were there, learned that Garrett has a unique fascination with the art of brewing coffee. He has every contraption you could possibly think of for grinding, brewing, and serving coffee. He gave us tips on making the best pot, and has forever changed me from typical coffee pots to french press coffee. It really does brew a superior cup, if done correctly.

2. My love of a good play on words
While I don't have many memories with him, one thing I remember distinctly is Garrett sitting in his truck, repeating, and chuckling over a good pun, or a well-crafted joke. I remember one time we were talking about the beauty of words, and he introduced me to the word "Winsome." It's a beautiful sounding word, with a matching definition. It's been a word I've looked to use, but have never quite found the right occasion, though it has stuck with me since.

3. My inability to finish every project I start
While I'm sure it irritated Cyndi to no end, I remember Garrett having a torn apart, half-built tractor in the driveway for YEARS. As I've grown older, I've come to realize that I have that same gusto for starting projects, but get distracted with other things before I have a chance to finish. Just ask Kyle, we have about 4 DIY projects sitting on our front porch, just waiting for me to go back and pick them up again.

4. My artistic sensibilities
Going hand in hand with the half finished projects, Garrett and I share a love for hand crafted goods and creative works. While we often focus them in different ways, I feel we both have a tendency to lean towards the artistic and creative side of things. I remember he was always working on some project, and it saddens me a great deal to know that he is in a space now where he cannot work on those projects, or artistic endeavors.

5. My sense of humor
We have a very similar sense of humor, and I'm pleased to say Kyle has a little bit of it too. As a teenager I remember he'd make a joke, and as angst-y as I was, I would try to muffle a laugh. He's got a way with jokes, and is quick on his feet.

6. My height
While I haven't always appreciated it, I know that it was always impressive for me to be able to say "my dad is 6'9"." I still get a kick out of the look on people's faces when they imagine just how tall that really is.

7. My affinity for good (foreign) food.
I do need to give credit to both parents for this one, but Garrett was the first person to introduce me to Thai, Vietnamese, and Indian food. I remember him taking me to the pink and teal Vietnamese place in Bremerton, and ordering spring rolls and coconut juice. Also, Bubble tea. Before it was the cool thing to drink he was ordering me a mango tea, and him a durian fruit bubble tea. (Said it tasted like floor wax.) I remember him telling me stories about how he used to eat avocado in Brazil with sugar on it. (Still haven't tried that one.)
To go along with this one, I remember one Tuesday night we drove around and got ice cream cones from every McDonald's in town, to see which one had the best large cones.

While this is definitely not a complete list, it has many of the things I've thought about in the past few months. I know as the days pass, his illness is growing, and there aren't many days left. He's a good man, and has done a lot of good in this world. It's hard to watch him fade, and harder to know that he won't be around much longer. I know the grieving process has only started , and that it will get so much worse before it gets better again. But it's also sort of comforting to know that in some small way, be it a large ice cream cone from McDonald's, or a fresh cup of coffee, he won't really be gone.
I think it's important to remember that the people we love can still be a part of our lives if we remember to remember.

Why Moving Across The Country With No Job Was the Best Decision I've Ever Made

I've been mulling over this blog post for some time. I knew I needed wanted to write a post about our move...(you know, because I know all of you are chomping at the bit to hear all the gory details of our crazy flight from the PNW...)...but I couldn't get the angle quite right. Until I realized this crazy, fling it all to the wind move, was exactly what Kyle and I needed.

About a year ago, Kyle and I decided to get married because we loved each other and couldn't live without each other....but also we wanted to move across the country, and have a new adventure. I wanted to be married before we left and while that sounds way more practical than romantic, I'm incredibly happy with the way our timeline fell into place. I knew I wanted to marry him, and I didn't need the big fancy wedding to make it work. So there we were, newly married (still are but whateves) and saving all extra income. We saved our wedding funds, our tax returns, and any overtime, or cashed out vacation from work. I was babysitting every once in a while, and saving that as well. As we were planning, I really felt like we would be pinching pennies, and giving up so much. But in reality, we were able to splurge on some things, and after selling some extra household stuff, we made our savings goal fairly easily. 

Before we even knew where we wanted to move, we set a deadline for June 20. We did this for two reasons. 1.) Because it would hold us accountable to save. We really wanted to get a cushy savings account before we took off away from our families and any security. And 2.) For job applications. I knew that while job hunting, very few companies would even take a second glance at my resume coming from Washington, when they are hiring in, Raleigh NC for example. Having the date, as my research told me, would give employers a better sense of security about my intentions when moving. it wasn't just some pipe dream. 

Well, the months FLEW by and May rolled around with June just out of reach, and there we were with no job prospects, no landlord to rent to us, and palpable disappointment. We'd moved out of our apartment, and were living with the in-laws, which as great as they were, was feeling like a step backwards, when all we really wanted was progress. 

On the morning of May 24th, I was in the car driving with Kyle to work. and I expressed just how frustrated I was about not having ANY prospects. We'd set our sights on Raleigh, NC and things we not panning out. We had no more than a rejection from one job who'd given me a chance, and a stack of applications for hundreds of positions. This is about how the conversation went. (It was raining)

H "I hate this rain. I'm sick of everything here and I just want to GO."

K "Yeah, me too."

H "I'm just so tired of trying, and I feel like NC isn't working."

K "Yeah, me too."

H "Can we just go somewhere? Drop everything and go?"

K "Ummmmm."

H "We have our savings....if we have a place to stay, that will last us a while."

K "If you can find a job or a place to live by next week, I will move."

H "Really??"

K "Yes."

H "How do you feel about Missouri? I have an aunt there who's been begging me to move there for YEARS."

K "uhhhhh, Why not?"

That very day, I got a hold of Sara and we worked out a place for us to live (The Sherrick Shack as we call it now) and she had a few job leads for me. I applied for a few jobs, Kyle did some research and applied for some jobs and the next day we both had voicemail's about interview possibilities. 

Since then, it's been practically smooth sailing. We put in notice at our respective jobs, reserved the Uhaul, packed it up, and loaded our car on a trailer. We pulled out on June 20, our original move date, and found ourselves in Missouri four days later. We had no problems with the truck, or trailer, or the move at all. The last few hours through Iowa were tough, but we pulled through. We moved into our house, and have had plenty of time and money to last us. Within a month of being here, we've both secured employment and found little things about this place that simply work for us. 

Had you asked me two years ago, where I saw myself today, Missouri would not have even made the list. (Ok, maybe a visit to Sara....) And living in the Midwest, selling group tickets in a train station/museum would have NEVER crossed my mind. But, this job is everything I've needed, and then some. I feel at home, and I (not to brag or anything) feel I do a good job. And while I never thought working in a cubicle would be good enough for my creative spirit, I'm LOVING it. I feel more inspired to get home and write, and dream in my free time about all my other projects. The structure I'm given here, is just enough to help my freak flag fly when I'm not clocked in. 

Feeling at home in a place, is important to me, and I feel more at home in our little Sherrick Shack, out in the Midwest, than I ever have before. While we are sad to be so far from family, I can feel us building a network of people who I can tell will be important to us for a long, long time. We're testing new boundaries in our relationship, and while a month of unemployment and constant companionship may be tough for a new marriage, it's helped us develop in ways I didn't think were possible.

In short, moving to Missouri, with out any sort of security blanket to help us along the way, has been the best decision we've made together as a couple...except maybe when we have pizza for dinner..... 

I was telling a new friend the other day that I've only ever felt this feeling of "home" one or two other times in my life. The most significant, was while I was dating Kyle, and I knew, despite my worries and anxieties, that everything would be fine. It would all work out, and I just needed to trust. So I did...and here we are. 

Life is crazy, friends, and my recommendation is to trust your gut, and go with the way life pulls you. Missouri wasn't my first choice, but it was the right choice, and I wouldn't trade this feeling for the world. 

Weighing In.

Body image is a big deal in today's culture. Stand in line at any grocery store for long enough, and you will see article topics ranging from the shock and awe about which celebrity gained, to what diet trend helped a celebrity lose X number of pounds. Women and girls of all shapes and sizes are bombarded with comments, pictures, and expectations, all about weight and body image. While there are bigger issues to resolve (see racism, sexism, etc.) body shaming has

GOT. TO. STOP. 

I consider myself a fairly positive, self-loving person. I see the value in my talents and abilities. I do however, have some serious issues with my body image, and all that is affiliated. (eating habits, exercising, etc.) I've been working through my issues, and with the help of my loving husband, have worked to identify the root of a number of my issues. I've learned (or remembered) that many of my issues stem from comments from other people. Here I would like to explore those comments, and respond to them, in case someone somewhere may be struggling with the same issues I do. 

Also, before I get started... The content of this post is real life, and sometimes real life sucks. I am not, however, looking for pity or comfort. The entire purpose behind this post is to explore the issues I'm working through, and prove to myself that I'm a bad ass woman regardless of my size. Also, to provide some solidarity to anyone struggling with the same issues. 

To the wide eyed looks in reference to my pant size when I was 13

I've always been tall. I've also always had a little more chub than my peers. While this was probably totally normal, I remember a specific time when I was talking about my pant size with some friends. I was the biggest pant size, coming in at an 8. While this could have been totally healthy for a girl who had just hit puberty, I remember getting a wide-eyed stare after saying something. I went home that day and thought about how I could lose enough weight to fit in. I told myself that I was a fat cow, and that I didn't deserve to be friends with such pretty, skinny girls.

After that I did my best to hide my belly, while simultaneously squeezing into pants that were WAY too small. I kept that habit up for a while, and it eventually back fired on me in an Old Navy dressing room. I went shopping with my sister, and we were looking for some things to wear to an interview. I tried on a size that was clearly too small. She mentioned I should go for something looser. In terms of business attire, she was totally right. In my brain, she was calling me fat. (she totally wasn't, but I burst into tears, ruining that shopping trip.)

Looking back, I wish I would have known to tell my 13 year old self, that pant size is not a reflection of my personality, self worth, talents, or over all awesomeness. IT'S JUST A NUMBER. It's not a place to start comparing myself to other awesome women who happen to have a smaller number on their tag. Also, self induced muffin tops are not cute. Ever. Buy the bigger size. You aren't a lesser person for it. 

To the boy who told me more boys would love me if I lost a few pounds:

You're a really nice person. Really. We were friends, and I would not have spent time with you if you weren't. That comment, however, has stuck with me for YEARS. I'm now happily married, but still have issues with letting my husband see me in the way a husband should. I still have issues with accepting my husband's love, no matter what the scale says. 

While this isn't the single comment that sent me spiraling in self-loathing, it did help propel it. At the point in time when you made that comment, I'd been struggling with that exact sentiment, in my own head, for years. It probably started when I noticed that certain girls had boyfriends, and I didn't...and that those girls looked different from me.  You're comment did cemented it in my brain. Logically I knew it was false, but to the insecure little girl inside, hearing a boy tell me that more boys would love me if I was smaller, was devastating.

Part of me hopes that you read this and part of me doesn't. If you do, I hope that you realize that comment was hurtful, and that you shouldn't ever say anything like that ever again. I also hope you realize that while your comment was hurtful, I still value you as a person, and think you are awesome. I also know that you probably didn't mean to say something that would cause me to think that way. I do not hold this against you. 

I wish I would have had the skills to process, this, realize it was total bullshit and throw it out. I didn't, and I'm still working on it. 

To the *smaller* girls who complained about their weight.

When I heard comments about how "fat" a girl was, especially when she was smaller than me, made me question every curve on my body. I would wonder if she saw me as some kind of hippo, because I was obviously fatter. 

Anyone who has made comments about how *fat* they are:

PLEASE STOP. 

Girls with lots of fat, and girls with less fat, we all need to learn how to love our bodies for the amazing, healthy machines that they are. Why don't we talk about how we love our bodies as much as we talk about the things we hate. Or even better, talk about skills we want to develop or they type of women we want to become. Let's focus our conversations on the type of people we are, rather than the size pants we wear. You can still talk about your shortcomings, but don't ever think that your weight is somehow a shortcoming. 

To my mother, who bless her heart, had me finish everything on my plate. NO MATTER WHAT. 

My mom and I have since talked about this, so I feel okay about writing it. 

When I was growing up, we had a rule in our house: You eat what's on your plate, and you eat until it's gone. 

As a toddler and growing child, that was fine. I ate well balanced meals, and my parents regulated portions. As a teenager, who was struggling with emotional eating, and now dishing her own portions, this was an equation for disaster. I ate WAY more than I needed, and it got especially bad when I did a stint as a vegetarian. Rather than crafting well balanced veggie meals, I just filled the protein portion of my plate with carbs. Around this time, the rule became an excuse to eat anything that touched my plate. 

While this wasn't my mother's fault, I can point to the rule of finishing everything on my plate, as a starting place for my binge eating habits. Even now, I hear my inner voice telling me to finish what's in front of me, regardless of how full I am. On multiple occasions Kyle has given me "permission" to leave leftovers on my plate, or at a restaurant. I'm 23, and just learning that it's okay to leave 5 bites on my plate, regardless of the money or time that went into putting it there. I hope that one day I'll be able to teach my children the same thing much earlier. 

To the comment on how much I'm eating. 

This one is related to the point above, but in essence, it's own issue. It's no secret that I struggle with binge eating. I hide wrappers, and eat a ridiculous amount of junk when I'm depressed, anxious, angry, or stressed. I use food as a drug to numb the uncomfortable emotions I'm feeling. 

I've done this for a long time, and I remember on multiple occasions, comments about how much food I was shoveling away. While I am sure these comments were more often than not, well meant, they still threw a wrench in an already dysfunctional cycle. 

Imagine for a moment that you struggle with eating to cope with uncomfortable emotions. You are standing at a party, and feeling uncomfortable because your friend brought you to her friend's party. You don't know anyone. You automatically start looking for the snacks, and find a table with large amounts of food just sitting there waiting to be used as a security blanket. You begin to eat, and suddenly your brain shuts off. You continue to eat, but then your well meaning friend mentions that you've eaten almost all the Doritos yourself. After that, not only are you uncomfortable because you don't know anyone, you are embarrassed and angry with yourself for eating all the Doritos. Now you begin to eat, in secret so your friend doesn't see, for three emotions, rather than just one. 

I've been that person. I've been the one eating as fast as I can to shut up the emotions inside, and console my hurt feelings. My response to two fold. 

First, to the well meaning friend:

While your comment about eating too much is well meant, it doesn't land well. Rather than commenting on the food, I would recommend redirecting your binge eating friend. Try distracting, or even physically removing them from the food (but even then be gentle.) Help introduce them to someone at the party, or get them involved with other people in another way. I understand that if you aren't close, you might not realize they are a binge eater, and it might not even be as easy as seeing them eat copious amounts of food. In those cases I have one piece of advice: 

When you are tempted to comment on how much food anyone is eating, don't. No matter where they are on the body image scale, the comment isn't necessary. It's more likely to hurt than help, and for all you know that person really is that hungry, and isn't just eating for the sake of eating. 

The first time I remember this comment, I hadn't eaten all day, and was stuffing my face with totally normal foods. Nothing junky, and in perspective, not too much. I was just eating it ridiculously fast. Someone commented on how much I was eating and it started a terrible cycle of weight management issues. I still struggle with figuring out what normal portions are, and have struggled through stints of starvation, only to binge bad after a day or two. 

My advice to the Doritos bringer: 

Get help. Educate yourself. Figure out if you are an emotional eater, or what else could be causing you to mindlessly graze. I didn't even know binging, without purging, was a thing. Find ways to cope with your emotions that aren't food. Also, therapy isn't a terrible choice. In fact, it could really help you identify the issues you are trying to numb with food. There is something awesome about telling another person (who doesn't know you) about what you are feeling. 

And finally, to the first person to suggest a diet to my 13 year old self. 

Honestly, I don't remember if this was a person, or a magazine article. All I remember is it was the start of a vicious cycle that I'm still working every day to break.  I wish I could throw the word diet out of the English language, just so the girls (or boys) younger than me won't learn it. It's a terrible sentiment, and I hate it. 

Diets (I'm cringing as I use the word) provide the fast-fashion solution to weight issues. They parade around sounding super bourgie, and easy. In reality, they will wear out faster than a Forever 21 NYE dress, leaving you cold, unsatisfied, and angry with yourself for trying (and failing) it again. 

Dieting is the worst possible solution to weight gain. ESPECIALLY in children. 

While it sounds uber woo-woo and hippy-ish, I prefer lifestyle. Changing your lifestyle, and the way you think about food, goes beyond a diet. 

While this is the ultimate goal, I still struggle DAILY with this. Embarrassingly enough my search history from last week will confirm that I still seek out the fast fixes to weight issues. I'm a sucker for the articles claiming to have the next best Dr. Oz fat flush figured out. When all is said and done, however, I've done enough juice fasts to know that physical healthy goes beyond just what you eat, or choose not to eat. 

All in all, my issues with body image, will be a lifelong battle. I will probably always struggle with saying no to cake, even when my stomach is full. But at least finding the root of these issues is a start. I'm working, one day at a time, to regulate my weight, and find a healthy balance between kale and cookies. 

How I’m Learning to Kick Anxiety’s Ass

For most of my adolescent and early adult life, I’ve lived with an almost dilapidating case of anxiety. I carry around with me a sense of impending doom, the feeling that something terrible will happen at any given moment. I have good days and bad days, but the bad days are dark, and happen frequently. While most people feel this fear or stomach turning anxiety during times of uncertainty, I feel it more days than not, and in situations that don’t call for it.  The week leading up to my wedding (and incredibly joyous occasion which I do not regret one bit) I felt this anxiety so strongly, that I seriously questioned my choice. Looking back, this questioning was a normal case of doubt, that most people would deal with by kissing their fiance, and letting the irrational questions wash away with the love of their significant other.

Recently I’ve been working to reevaluate my life, and where I stand in reference to the values and ideals I grew up with. I think this is something everyone should do a time or two, because if there is anything I’ve learned in my short 23 years on this planet, it’s that I am my own person and have different needs than my parents, siblings, and friends; that it’s okay to change.

During this reevaluation, I’ve come to realize that my anxiety stems from a large heaping portion of guilt. I’ve been walking around doubting my decisions, and hoping nothing bad happens because I feel as though I’ve been doing something wrong. Let me state right here that while I do believe in a set of morals that guide my life, I also believe that the scale of right and wrong is more fluid than we realize.

Think for a moment about a two women who both have babies the same age. One may breastfeed while the other uses formula. We may believe that formula is wrong for a child, but that doesn’t mean it’s the case for everyone. It is not anyone’s place to tell that mother she’s doing something wrong when it comes to her child. For all we know, one child has allergies, so severe, breastmilk isn’t an option. And it’s more than likely that mother feels immense guilt for feeding her child formula, because the mom’s in her baby yoga class shun, or judge her for dealing with a situation the best she knows how.

Now, not every decision we make in life is going to be as trivial as what to feed your baby (though I sympathize with moms who struggle with that issue, and by no means am I trying to downplay the headache it causes.) Most of the time, when we are feeling guilt, it is because of something much larger, and more “serious” in the eyes of society or ourselves.

In my case, I’ve been struggling with appeasing this heavy load of guilt, caused by living my life in a way that is different from that of my family and friends. I am the personification of the stories I was told about people who have “fallen away.” Now this could be the point at which I explain that and confess all my difference or wrongdoings, but I’m not going to. What I am going to do is say that this heavy load of guilt has got to go.

My life is beginning to look very different from what I ever imagined, but I am incredibly excited, and even happy about that. By letting go of this guilt, I’ve found I’m able to chase after experiences that otherwise I would have shied away from, for fear of being wrong. I’m in the process of interviewing for a job that excites me and will fulfill many of my life-long dreams. I can tell you right now, if this guilt monster had its way, I wouldn’t have even applied to this job. I wouldn’t have wanted to play into the appearance of evil, regardless of me actually doing anything “wrong.” I have issue with that because to me that gives the power to other people, and excuses their choice to judge my life and choices. As far as I remember, no one on this earth has the right to judge our decisions, and what is “in our hearts” is more important than what other people think of us.

Throughout this transformation of sorts, I’ve learned that it’s okay to question anything that is placed in front of you. And I don’t mean ask the right questions, that will lead you to the “only” answer. I mean question in a way that challenges you, and pushes you think bigger than the solution in front of you. I’ve always been known as a curious person, but until recently I’ve only asked the “right” questions, never the wrong ones. As a naturally curious person, I am discouraged by there being such thing as a “wrong” question. What does that even mean?

In science, there is no wrong question, because the point of putting a hypothesis out there is hoping people try to poke holes in it. If you have something more than a hypothesis, and it’s stood the test of being questioned with the intent of disproving, then it moves into being a theory. As a scientist, looking for more information, it would be fruitless to have “right” and “wrong” questions, because the quest for understanding would be halted.

So what does all this have to do with anxiety? Well, by learning there are no wrong questions, and learning that it’s okay to change, I’ve seen my anxiety melt away.  I no longer feel bound by guilt, and can move on into a life full of discovery, and learning. I no longer feel fear in pursuing the pipe dreams I’ve been holding on to for years. I’ve opened myself up to developing relationships with people that otherwise I would have avoided, and I’ve opened up to stronger relationships with those people because my definition of what is right, and what is wrong, have changed. By learning it’s okay to ask any question, my fear of the unknown (AKA my anxiety) has for all intents and purposes disappeared. Sure, I still get nervous going into an interview, or contemplating what would happen if I lost my job. But I’ve also come to realize that I can make it out of those situations because I’m a capable human being who can build back up from just about any loss. I am reminded of the poem by Ernest Hemingway, and I’ll leave you here with that quote. It’s a good reminder.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.”
― William Ernest Henley, Echoes of Life and Death;

Controversy Alert: Feminism Is Not Selfish

I saw a response to a video the other day that said something along the lines of “choosing not to have children is selfish, and feminism is a tool of the devil.” My heart sank, and I wondered why that person was equating childless couples with tools in the devil’s Craftsman box.

To be fair, this was from a very conservative person, whose religious views are dear to their heart, and are the basis for all values this person lives by. That’s fine. Live your life the way you choose. It’s your life and your choice. (See that? That’s feminism.)

My problem isn’t that this person is living their life like this, but is also choosing to dishonor the good name of feminism, something that isn’t inherently selfish.

Feminism is believing in, and working for a world where men and women are treated as equals. It’s a world where a woman’s choice to not have children, or have children, is scrutinized as much or as little as a man’s. (or not at all) It’s believing a place where our choices are valued and respected because we are human, not because we are women (or men.) It’s a place where having children is a personal choice, not a society driven expectation.

This response to feminism sprouted from a video entitled “having children is anti-feminist.” I get it. That title sounds like it’s going to judge you for your choice to have children. But hear me out.

It has been proven that women who have children make 5% less than her male counter-part for every child. If you are looking at this from a working-girl’s perspective, having children is anti-feminist, not inherently, but because we live in a society where a women’s role is determined for her. She is running the risk of being devalued at a corporate level because she chooses to have a baby. But she’s also being judged if she chooses a career, because that’s obviously a selfish thing to do.

We live in a world where newlyweds are questioned about when they are having children, as if it isn’t even an option to do otherwise. We live in a world where little girls are given baby dolls, and learn to be mothers, but need special support clubs and groups when they want to study engineering. We live in a world where it is assumed how a person will live their life, before they are given the option.

Now, to stray away from childbearing, because that is an incredibly personal choice, let’s talk about the fact that “feminism is a tool of the devil.”

Riiiiiiiight.

So, the devil wants us to live in a world where we are encouraging of both men and women, and learn to respect others’ choices because we are decent human beings? And it’s the devil who wants equal pay? That’s not the devil I learned about in Sunday school.

Now, to give credit where credit is due, I can see where the extreme, stereotypical (possibly fictional) FEMINIST we all think of could be a tool of the devil. Every conservative-raised teenager has heard about this feminist. You know, the one who doesn’t shave her armpits, and is a self-proclaimed “man-hater.” 

How many of those, aside from maybe the armpit hair, have you come across?

My count is a big fat ZERO.

All of the feminists I’ve come across have promoted love, acceptance, and a desire for change. They want to fight THE man, not all men. They want women to be educated, self-loving, and all in all good people who play nice with the men in the sandbox. In other words, they want a society where women’s choices and desires are valued as much as her male counterpart, and vice versa.

I’ve also spoken with a number of conservative, anti-feminists (you know the not selfish ones) who feel it’s their right to limit what their friends, neighbors and colleagues rights and abilities are, because it’s what they personally believe.  It’s their right to tell a woman she shouldn’t work “outside of the home,” because it would be selfish to do so and her unborn children need her doing other things. These women also see men as a way of being taken care of, and that's an entirely new beast. Men shouldn't be locked into anything either. 

See, I have a problem here. Not in the fact that some people want to be stay-at-home moms, because that’s totally cool. I have a really great one. My issue is that those same women judge me for having a career, and wanting to be well versed in skills outside of the home. My issue is that while my husband and I are working on our careers, and learning to establish ourselves, people are whispering about how selfish we are for not having kids yet. My issue is with people who question why a couple hasn’t had kids after 5+ years of being married, and wonder what else could be more important.

NEWS FLASH: We are all individuals, and have different needs and desires. Personally, because I believe in complete transparency, I want kids someday. I see that glowy image of picket fences and Sunday pot-roasts and it’s not gross to me. But it is gross to some people, and THAT’S OKAY. I have no right to judge them for wanting to work on their career for the rest of their lives, and be fulfilled in that way.

I’m learning to be very suspicious of people, and institutions, who tell me that “I don’t know how to be happy,” if I’m doing things differently than they are. I’m sorry, but that’s a load of bull shit. I don’t believe in a world where we would all be happy doing exactly the same thing. The fact that my husband loves math, and thinks it’s awesome, but can’t write worth beans (sorry honey) and I am the complete opposite of him, is proof of that. OH RIGHT, he’s a man, and I, a woman.

Okay, woman to woman. I have a sister who is a vet. She worked her ass off to get through vet school, and is really great at it. She’s happy doing that, but when I think about all the animal poop she has to deal with, I’m good with just my dog.

All this really boils down to is the fact that we all have lives to lead, and choices to make, and I don’t think it’s okay for one person to judge another for that choice. But, you know if that’s what you want to do, no judgement here, it’s your life. I’m just going to continue living selfish, devilish life. But I am going to shave my armpits.