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Self-Healing - Empowerment - Evolution

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Sunday Thoughts on Blenders, Budgets and Options

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I make smoothies every day with a 6-year-old magic bullet from Costco.

OK, it’s my second one in 6 years. A year into buying the first one I overfilled the blender and the juice got into the motor and toasted it, so I returned it for a new one.

Unethical? Maybe a little. But an old drinking buddy of mine once returned a 6 pack of broken wine glasses for store credit so I feel OK about my choice. Costco’s return policy is pretty lax, though they really don’t like having to look up your purchase without a receipt. They will – you just end up with store credit AND attitude.

So I got a new magic bullet and have been blending up a storm pretty consistently for the past year or so. Lot’s of Hawaiian Spirulina, blueberries, and bananas get consumed in liquid form on my watch. It’s not the most graceful process as the device has its limitations.

For instance, I have to cup the spout with my hand to keep the juice from spewing out on occasion. The blender container is nothing close to the size you get with a $500 ninja (I think that’s what the fancy ones are called?) but it does the job for a writer who has passed up writing for clients to go all in on creating my own online self-care offerings (sign up for my newsletter here to stay in the loop on what’s rolling out.)

I have a nice little budget to adhere to these days because of my choice which means that unnecessary stuff, like pricey blenders, isn’t on the docket at present.

But I still make time to look after me because self-care is about doing what you can within time and financial budgets.

I have options. For example, I could go out and buy a new blender and juicer on my line of credit right now. Or, I could keep blending smoothies and straining my celery juice every morning via a $45 magic bullet from Costco because even though it’s not glamorous, it works.

I could say fuck it when I get that creeping desire to try to look like I’m rolling in dollar bills instead of being honest: quitting all your part-time gigs so you can go all in on your dreams comes with a budget. A tight one.

I could keep my eye on the prize via gratitude for the moments when I have to cup the spout of an overzealous blender that can only be pulsed for 6 seconds at a time or the motor will blow because it feels better that way.

Or if I’m really stuck in the “need bigger, better, blender – now” thought process, I can remind myself how silly it is to throw away something that works – that still serves a purpose – all because I don’t look as well off as the 10-year-old in me thinks I need to look right now.

I could stop trying to do things the way everyone else thinks I need to do things.

The idea of doing that sounds like freedom.

I might not have everything tied up in a neat little bow; I might not have things perfectly laid out and organized; I might not have all the things and stuff I’ve always wanted, or be living up to societal and familial standards of success.

But I’m doing what I love and I’m going after my dream.

And I’m helping other people and healing myself in the process.

I don’t need a $500 blender to do that. 😳

xo

A

Why You Don’t Need To Forgive Just Yet

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There are some things I’m not ready to forgive. And because of that, I’ve found myself guilty of a lot of things:

  • Of being dismissive and cavalier.
  • Of not wanting to be nice.
  • Of feeling pressured to hug people I don’t want to hug, and being angry about it.
  • Of not wanting to get over it just yet – of wanting to feel and process the anger I never let myself acknowledge.
  • Of rehashing hurt from many years ago because at the time, I never saw it for what it was. I thought what went on was OK.
  • Of not noticing that someone’s concern was toxicity in a fancy dress.
  • Of letting someone use my pain as a way to fuel their hate, and not letting myself feel the anger associated with that betrayal until now.

But my biggest issue in all of this is in identifying and acknowledging the truth of how I feel and learning to live with it and by it, under the watchful eye of a wounded society.

Trying to live in this realm that allows me to feel, even though it would be more convenient and “appropriate” if I just hugged someone I don’t want to hug, is tricky territory. And here’s what I’ve learned in meandering it:

We don’t have to let it go just yet. In fact, it’s not up to us. Our hearts choose when it’s time to forgive.

As long as we are aware of the anger and resentment, let ourselves feel it, and acknowledge that it comes from a pain that needs to be felt, we’re going to be ok. One day the anger will dissipate, and we’ll be able to move on without the weight on our hearts.

Again, it’s not up to us. All we can do is continue to allow ourselves to feel how we feel.

And when we do forgive, it doesn’t mean we’ll have to want to hug someone we don’t want to hug.

Forgiveness doesn’t mean welcoming someone who violated our health and heart with open arms back into our lives. No enabling required.

It means one day being able to think of them without clamping your heart shut. And until your body, mind and soul are ready to do that, let yourself be pissed off.

Give yourself the freedom to feel what you feel. Give yourself permission to not be ready to forgive.

Lessons On Using Your Voice From The Deli Counter

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I had an interesting interaction at the local deli yesterday.

There were a lot of people in the store, so I was keeping tabs on my position. When it was my turn, I stepped forward to place my order.

Shortly thereafter I heard the woman who had just completed her transaction say to the next person in line, “I thought you were next.”

To which I automatically responded to her, “Busybody.”

The line-up dictator left. And the woman behind me said, “Well, I guess some people just know more than the rest of us, hey?”

We both gave each other a smile, and life went on.

Here’s why I’m sharing the details of this seemingly superficial deli counter interaction with you today:

I used to be really scared to speak up in real-time, choosing to relentlessly fester on unsavoury interactions instead.

Maybe you can relate: I would think about what I should or could have said, and get increasingly pissed off in the process.

It felt safer not to speak, even though not speaking caused so much internal chaos – Chaos that manifested into me being unnecessarily aggressive towards other people.

The words that came out of my mouth yesterday provided the first scenario in my life in which I’ve spoken up for myself without guilt or shame or over-the-top anger consuming me.

I didn’t feel the need to lash out- the words just came out, void of hyper-aggression.

Prior to this interaction I always felt bad about standing up for myself. I’d witnessed a lot of people affirm that it wasn’t OK to speak. Variations of the belief that it’s best not to, like “best to keep quiet” have been the norm throughout my life.

These statements affirmed the validity of the shame and guilt that kept me from using my voice in a productive way. And the aggression that festered from reliving unsavoury interactions fuelled a hyper-aggressive self-protective mode, which led to a lot of suffering. 

You never get the outcome you’re looking for when you approach an interaction with heightened aggression. But it’s hard not to, especially when it’s ingrained in our psyches that speaking out is something to be ashamed of.

We are human – we crave connection. Logic tells us we will never connect with people if they disapprove of us, and disapprove they will if we speak. How can we not turn speaking out into an aggressive tirade when we deny ourselves, through no fault of our own, the right to stand up for ourselves? That festering energy needs to go somewhere.

It’s super scary to use your voice. More often than not women get labelled overly dramatic, ridiculous, or some variation of inadequate.

Some women will even embrace the patriarchy and turn on those who are being assertive with their rights and needs as human beings.

We have women trying to shame other women in a desperate attempt for power. They are so committed to distracting themselves from their own insecurities and pain that they choose judgement because it feels safer.

I used to be one of those women (learn about that here.) And there are days I catch glimpses of her in my behaviours and beliefs.

Compassion is the only viable response to judgement. It’s the only offering that will lead to anything positive. (Here’s an amazing example.)

It’s not easy and it’s tough to get right. For example, I’m well aware of the judgment not-so-subtly hidden in my “busybody” comment. I’m also aware that it makes me sound like I’m from the early 1900s.

In a perfect world, I’d have been more honest with the woman at the deli counter. I’d have told her I see her and know what she’s trying to do, and that I have compassion for her struggle because I live it, too

But I know that interaction, in all its imperfection, provided a huge opportunity for me. It offered me a chance to be assertive and stand up for myself.

It offered me a chance to speak. 

Even though it was on a small-scale, it was a chance for me to communicate without taking a hyper-aggressive stance. That’s a win for me.

Many of us don’t know how to speak. We were never taught how to or that it was OK to do so.

So we need to start practicing how to use our voices. And for me, the deli counter provided a great opportunity to do just that.

Thanks for reading. ❤ If you liked this post, sign up for my monthly newsletter below where I share stories and insights from my wellness journey.

Why Your Parents Are Jerks and That’s OK

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About 10 years ago I got arrested for being drunk in public.

Long story short, I was in a really bad state. I was severely depressed, drinking heavily, and couldn’t see past the bottle in front of me.

No one in my family was capable of helping during this time: they didn’t know how to deal with me. Neither did the psych nurse that came to see me in jail when I’d sobered up. She basically told me that if I did it again there would be charges pressed. No offers for counseling or help.

So it was all on my own shoulders, to heal and get better. It was like, “You’re fucked up and there is no reason why you should be because none of us are fucked up. So it’s on you to figure out your issues and get over them.”

Do I think I deserved better treatment? If I was eager to jump on the self-pity train I’d say yes. But I’ll repeat what I said previously: no one in my life was capable of helping me. They didn’t know how to deal with me. And I think I scared the shit out of them because I was like this volatile fucking rocket that was ready to go off at any time.

I learned a lot from my experience. One being that generally as a society, we lack compassion for scenarios and people we don’t understand. We get so scared, and default to simplifying and minimizing another person’s struggle.

So we say “You fucking loser drunk” instead of “You deeply troubled girl who doesn’t know how to love herself.”

And obviously, it takes less time and energy to call someone a loser, or a fuck up, and wipe your hands of them. No one wants to take ownership of a shitty scenario so they just blame it away.

Parents do it too.

And egos don’t like compassion or empathy. They are horny for power and control, and there’s a ton of that in the judgment process. So generally, our ego-dominated society digs judgment, because it boosts people up, albeit under dirty, false pretenses.

What am I saying? I’m saying I wouldn’t change a thing. I got better on my own and I’m proud of that fact. It didn’t happen right away – not even after that night in jail – but it happened. And through the process of recovering and discovering some love for myself, I learned a lot of stuff, particularly about my family.

I learned it takes two to tango. That just because someone does something shitty doesn’t mean it warrants them a lifetime of judgment and ostracization. And I’m not talking about myself here, though of course, it is relatable to my scenario.

I’ve realized that the avoidance of any and all responsibility for one’s actions causes great imbalance. I’ve long held one parent responsible for all the issues in our family, sheltering the other from any ownership. When in fact it takes two to create a shitty situation.

To capitalize on the other’s mistakes and use it as fuel, in order to dismiss ownership of the unsightly, and proclaim “I didn’t do anything wrong; I am innocent” is to create an imbalance that causes much discontent — for all parties involved.

Blame is high-grade procrastination — it’s like the THC in weed. It keeps you from seeing your own contributions to the discontent you feel. For whatever reason, my journey has entailed blaming others and outside sources for all the shitty stuff that went on in my life. I was taught how to blame away my problems, and now I’m teaching myself how to release the need to do that.

Because I am hyper-cognizant of the fact that blame is a recipe for suffering.

Truth: if you find yourself in a shitty interaction, you had a hand in it. You are not innocent.

However, This does not mean you are a piece of shit and unworthy of love.

It means that to say you had no hand in the events surrounding your discontent is to avoid the lesson. And I don’t know about you, but I WANT TO KNOW ALL THE LESSONS.

I want to make sense of the struggle, and come out of it like a fucking phoenix rising from the ashes.

I think my hope for what I wanted my parents to be was so intense that I couldn’t see who they actually were: flawed humans. 

That’s not a slight, it just is what it is. Yes, they have talents and abilities and positive qualities — but they are human, and to be human is to be flawed.

Part of my journey has entailed realizing that they will not always be right, or kind, or compassionate, or loving.

They are capable of being jerks, just like me and every other person walking the planet.

And they weren’t and will not be capable of being my saviors. They won’t be able to fix me or teach me to appreciate myself; they won’t be the ones leading me towards enlightenment. Though through their dysfunction and perceived failures, I have learned to love who I am, and function at a higher state.

So even though they aren’t good with apologies; even though they judged me and gossiped about me in the past; even though they may not consider the repercussions of their comments and behaviors — each moment of disappointment I feel is actually an opportunity for me to just accept them, as is, for who they are.

Because when I do that, I open the door for me to accept myself. 

xo

A

Why I Use Pessimism as a Survival Tactic

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I’ve been slightly obsessed with the idea of pessimism lately.

I keep thinking about how it harms us, but also how it serves us. Lot’s of note jotting and talking to Siri about it.

I used to be a hard-core pessimist. Things are better these days, and I’m generally quite capable of swapping out negatives narratives for positives ones. But there are still times when I struggle to think positively about others and myself.

I acknowledge that my self-directed pessimism does me little to no good. It’s caused me heaps of world-ending anxiety over the years, which as of recently has led to some rather severe health issues (you can read about them here.)

So overall, I’m trying to focus all my activities and thoughts on positive things, with the exception of a bit of what I’m calling healthy, outwardly directed pessimism.

Because sure, it doesn’t serve me to berate myself with thoughts like, “you’re going to screw this up and no one will like you anymore.”

But it does serve me to think, “He’s going to be difficult to deal with so I better take a moment to prepare myself for how I will respond to any hostility, so as not to make the situation any worse.” Do you see how this might help a sister out?

I think this whole idea of pessimism as a survival tactic is extremely valuable.

I started thinking about it when I saw this YouTube video on pessimism by School of Life a few months ago. The idea that it could be used to my benefit was fascinating to me.

Because I harmed myself for years by being pessimistic. And then I beat myself up by harshly judged myself for doing it. Now, to find a way to use it to my advantage – that’s some cool shit right there.

And talk about empowering: the very thing that caused me heaps of problems can be refurbed into something that makes my life easier.

Needless to say, I’ve tossed out a lot of emotional baggage over the years. I overhauled the contents of my belief system and started afresh. Many steps forward were taken. Many fear-laced steps were taken back. And lot’s of tears and mini emotional break downs were had.

But here we are today: today is good. Save for some soon to be sorted out health issues, I am solid. And I’m here because I decided to let go of all of my past beliefs.

Save for my buddy pessimism.

Here’s the logic: in order for me to be the bad ass boss woman I am today, I can’t be pessimistic about my skills, my drive, or my abilities. No room or time for that.

But what has served me so very well over the past few years has been a dose of pessimism when I’m dealing with other people.

Case in point:

  • an ego-centric employer who is incapable of thinking of anyone but himself (True story. Read about it here)
  • a family member who flings his insecurities onto others via heavy snark
  • a friend who got a pink slip for shaming me (yep, this happened too – and I wrote about it here)

The common denominator in all three of these scenarios is that everyone was struggling with their ego. That sucker was running the show and keeping them from one incredibly valuable act: connection with others. Because who the hell wants to hang out with people who are mean and unsupportive?

And their eg-sponsored unkindness was reliable. So after many a repeated acts of ego, and dealing with my exhausting emotional response to it (“Why is he/she doing this? Why are they being so mean? Waaaahhhhhh!!”) I realized I needed to get reliable with my use of pessimism.

I needed to start assuming they were going to act shitty, and amp myself up to set a good example. I needed to not respond to their aggression (well, sadness is what it really is) with more aggression.

So I needed to not give them what they unknowingly wanted: more fuel to keep their pain fire burning.

The way I use pessimism these days is in a diluted, based-in-kindness form. So I think stuff like:

“I know this guy is struggling to function, so I’ll commit to calling out the rudeness in a calm and kind way, if and/or when something comes up that’s not appropriate.”

Rather than:

“This guy is a righteous asshole and I know he is going to f*** with me today – so I’m going to get myself jacked up with come backs for his inevitable insults to my character.”

Harsh, yes. But not far off from the old me.

The past is the past. So I do my damnedest to stick to the first scenario these days and wow, does it work well for me when I do. I can focus on doing my best, and not get so rattled or obsessed with other people’s perceived inefficiencies. ‘Cause we all got ’em.

Which brings me to another act that makes life easier: accepting that I will never be perfect. That I make mistakes. That I do not always get things right, but that I’m doing my very best, and that has to be enough.

And that’s one of the reasons why I’ve been able to use pessimism in such a healthy way. Because I am hyper accepting of the fact that as humans, we were made to be flawed.

Some days my best is just not my best. And I sure as hell don’t have it all figured out. But when I do struggle or screw up, I’ve always got writing to help me make sense of it all. Storytelling heals, so cheers to that!

And cheers to pessimism, in all its tarnished glory. It might have a bad rap, but when you use it to your benefit, it really is a top-notch survival tactic.

(PS: there was a bit of pessimism over whether or not the hubby would get the boat ready for floating today – so I snapped a pic of my relieved face upon finding he had!)

Why You Need To Keep Putting Yourself Out There, Spelling Mistakes and All

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Part of the reason why I’m happy today is that in spite of the fear of how I might be perceived or what may be said about me, I put myself out there.

Pressing post on my first article for my blog on Dec 31st, 2015 was the catalyst for drastic change in my life. It was also what propelled me towards this idea that I might be really awesome in my inherent state.

Me as is, was something to be celebrated, not frowned upon.

It also taught me that it was OK to be me on a global scale, on any scale for that matter, and that I had a talent, of which I didn’t have to feel bad about celebrating.

I could stop minimizing my worth.

In putting myself out there, I was able to get myself into a state of wellness.

But it was really hard to do in the beginning.The reason I was so scared was that I was so deeply concerned about what others might say or think of me – the underlying issue to that being that I craved perfection.

And without an editor, the perfect amount of sleep, a peer review and the clarity of a Buddhist monk, it wasn’t going to happen.

I mean heck, perfection just doesn’t exist. And it’s in correcting the errors that we find greatness.

I believe in the process of life. I trust it. So when I find an error days later and gasp in horror, I look at it as a chance to give myself a pep talk.

“Andrea – just because you made an error doesn’t mean you suck. It means you were in the zone and your eyes skimmed over it.”

You also never know where that edit and update may take you. After I update something I usually share it on social media again. And who knows who might come across that post? Maybe they will find some common ground in what I’ve written? Maybe it will help them face something they have been scared to admit to or talk about?

I believe we need to do our best, all the time. But sometimes my best isn’t the best of the best. For example, when I’ve had a rough sleep, but I wake up with this idea for an article and it just pours out of me like syrup.

The idea might be amazing, but the packaging might not be that great. That day, the article as a whole might not be my all-time best. But because I’m feeling it, and I follow the goosebumps, I post it.

I believe those pulls to do something are things we must listen to. So I do. And every-time I do I get better at being me.

Days later I often find an error or two. But you know what? That’s inevitable. It’s gonna happen. The eyes that are reading it two days later aren’t the eyes that skimmed it two days earlier at 6 am.

Plus, with clients, dishes, and laundry I don’t have time to take my posts through a rigid editing process. So I choose to post it and move past the fear of judgment or shame that sits on my shoulder telling me I should be scared to share my words with the world.

So to one and all: put yourself out there. Do your best. Just know that your best isn’t going to be Harper Collins editing team quality, at all times. And don’t hate on yourself when you inevitably realize that.

The world needs you to be you, so keep putting yourself out there.

xo

A

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