7 quick takes. Or maybe not so quick.

1.       Today I am feeling EXTRA tired, and therefore my filter has collapsed. Maybe this is why I decided finally to blog. So your welcome. Or watch out. I’m not sure which way this is gonna go.

Food:

2.       So, food. Right now I am eating a salmon patty, sautéed yellow pepper and zoodles cooked in butter, chai tea with a huge tablespoon of whole fat coconut milk, a jar of home brewed kombucha and a bowl of Kellogg’s Rice Krispies with homo milk because I poured the milk before my two year old could tell me she would prefer almond milk. And I’m too tired to fight this morning.

The first things in my list are Whole30-ish, Paleo-mostly. Kellogg’s Rice Krispies. Not so much. In fact, I haven’t settled in my heart how exactly I am going to deal with (phase out?) some of those big brand names because the food industry is seriously broken. They don’t care about feeding people. But, I guess the point is that there is always juxtaposition in our lives. Sometimes things are squeaky clean. Sometimes I eat Chinese food smorg. Probably not this Lent, you know, the fasting and whatnot, and I haven’t eaten Chinese since October when I started a Whole30 reset, but I do see it in my future. I’m a little scared and a little excitedly expectant. Sort of like knowing I am going to ride a roller coaster that is going to be so incredibly fun and will most likely make me vomit after. That kind of good time.

3.       In the food vein, I just want to say that one day, a few years ago, I sat in my living room and cried on my couch after watching Julie and Julia because I was so excited about the idea of food and writing and how I could combine the two and my faith and write a cookbook about how amazingly these three things go together and it was going to be brilliant and the best thing I could ever do forever and ever amen.

I still love food. And writing. And Jesus. But I have seen some of those food bloggers on the internets and in the Instagrams who really have their shiz together. They GO for it, and this cooking/writing/Jesus project of mine never took any shape beyond the tears on my couch and a few impassioned discussions. Food is POWERFUL! I could tell you all about it some time.

I haven’t developed any recipes. I haven’t taken any food styling courses. I haven’t even done any serious writing. Obviously without some serious changes to my life course, this little project is not going to materialize. I mean, check out Cristina at The Castaway Kitchen. This girl deserves all the props. She obviously works her tail off running after her food dream, and it is amazeballs. I especially love how real and raw she can be, and her energy is contagious. And I don’t even know her. And her recipes are delicious, and so good for a body. Another amazing food person I follow is Danielle Kartes of Rustic. Joyful. Food. This gal is SO FUNNY! I can’t handle her Instagram stories. I wish we were best friends.

  

Now. This is not to say that I feel like the competition is too intense for me to jump into it. I mean, I would probably have moments where I’d feel like this were the case, because let’s be honest, the Competition. Is. Staggering. But I also listened to a podcast recently (Among the Lillies - I think, but I don’t know which episode because I don’t listen to them in order) and in the episode the girls were talking about how there can never be enough beauty in the world, so don’t be scared to contribute what I feel like God is calling me to contribute. Amen to that.

 

However I don’t think I’ll be throwing my hat into the food blogging ring. I think putting all that pressure on food would maybe ruin my relationship with it. And I’m just starting to figure that out. So I’ll borrow some recepies from Cristina and Danielle and from @thefeedfeed and Jaime Oliver and post a couple of pics to Insta when I feel like oversharing my life. The end.

4.       Whole30. I just have to talk about it for a minute. I sort of don’t want to because I feel like I am about to join a fad or reveal how trendy I am or how much of a crazy-control person I am (anyone who knows me knows how OUT of control I usually am! Yikes.) but I still need to confess. I did one. A Whole30. And at first I thought, “This sucks balls.” I was scared to start. As mentioned above, food has power, and I was under sugar’s spell. I am a full blown sugar addict and I could not stop myself from eating it out of control. If I had a bad day with the girls, I’d hide in the corner of the kitchen and eat seven packages of fruit snacks, just shoving them in by the packetful to try to sooth my angst. I used to hide mini Toblerone bars in my dresser and eat four of them at night after everyone went to sleep - or any time I got to leave the house solo I would stop at Walmart for a disgustingly dry package of $1 powdered mini donuts and eat the whole package in the five minute drive from the store to my house. Or get Twinkies at 7-11. Ew. The thing is I wasn’t even happy eating these things. I’d feel gross after, I would only enjoy the first bite or two, and then I would feel guilty about eating them. Hence the hiding. Emotionally, I had a tough autumn, and I finally got to the place where I decided I didn’t want to be controlled by junk food, and I wanted my mental health to improve. I needed to get a handle on something. So I was doing some reading, and everything was pointing to gut health and the things I ate affecting EVERYTHING about me. From the obvious things like weight and cardiovascular health, to mental health, infections, inflammation and all other aspects of life. So I wanted to figure it out.

Whole30 didn’t require any purchasing of anything. No supplements, no shakes, no meetings or communities to join. No monthly fee. I didn’t even have to buy a book. I got them from the Library. (Win!) And in fact, all the necessary information is on the website, so really, there is nothing they are trying to hide. It is honestly just straight up food. So after being in mourning for a couple of weeks at the prospect of not being able to binge on whatever, whenever, and feeling like I could never be happy with a restrictive food diet - even if it was just temporary - I decided that this thinking was pretty messed up. Food should not - and in actuality does not - determine if I have joy in my life. So I obviously needed to get this under control. I bit the bullet. I did some food and sauce prep. I committed to 60 days instead of 30. Because honestly. I was sneaking around eating disgusting donuts. 30 days of rehab wasn’t about to break this habit. It wasn’t the revelation that many people claim it to be. As the first 30 days wore on, I still felt angst-y, I still had huge sugar cravings, zits, and I have no way to measure how well I sleep because I have small kids. Sleeping through the night is non-existent in my world. By day 25 I was ready to quit. But since there were only five more days until I would measure and weigh myself, I decided to hold on for those next five days. On day 31, I stepped on the scale to see if anything had actually changed. To my great surprise, I had lost 16 lbs. What? I didn’t even feel like I looked different. And that made me feel self-conscience because if my pants were still fitting me 16 lbs lighter, I must have been stuffing myself into these things sausage-style all this time. Yikes. Also, how could I have lost 16 lbs on a diet that didn’t count calories, and let me eat ALL the fats I wanted? You guys. I was cooking everything in ghee, spreading it on all my veggies, eating tablespoons of mayonnaise, and putting coconut cream into my tea all the time. ALL THE TIME. 

So I decided to keep going and stick out the next month. Actually, I was going to do 66 days total, but Christmas stuff started happening December 6 and that marked 60 days, so I kind of said, I’m just going to do Christmas. I had clean meals in between days of feasting, and I enjoyed myself, but by December 28^th my tummy was in knots and I went back to W30 full force for two weeks to recover. I meant to do a reintroduction carefully and scientifically so I would know how things affect me, but I failed at that. It was really hard to introduce grains without also introducing dairy and sugar and Oh My! I obviously still don’t have the Food Freedom that Melissa Hartwig talks about, but I have learned that I feel better when I eat more veggies and protein and less grains - especially wheat - and dairy. So I am kind of right there. Where I eat food. But I listen to my body and if it doesn’t feel good, I eat a W30 type of meal and snacks for the next while until I feel good again. I don’t have the exact information that I could have gained, but I do have some valuable knowledge in my easily accessible repertoire which I access frequently. And I have a strategy that I can easily get back to if I am feeling out of control. Good things.

As for overall what my results were - since October 9, I have lost about 28 pounds. My emotional state is much more even keel. I also started tracking my menstrual cycle when I started W30 and I have found that I am a nut job on the second last day of my period, and knowing that that is just a bad day overall, I can get through it easier knowing it is just hormones and not “me” or my failures that is making the day so BAD! My energy level has also improved. I am able to get more of the stuff done around my home. More laundry gets done. I vacuum now. The kitchen counters aren’t such an insurmountable task, and getting out for walks and adventure is easier - if the weather permits, which has been a whole thing for us this winter. Sometimes (usually) I still struggle with sugar. Like those Welch’s Fruit Snacks have trapped me in the kitchen once or twice since I started back to eating food with added sugar, but now I recognize disordered eating patterns AND I don’t have to feel guilty about them, I just use tools I have to move back in the direction of food as fuel instead of crappy comfort for a crappy moment. I had a phrase kind of hit me a couple of days ago - well, I don’t really remember exactly how it went, but it was along the lines of there being no sense in allowing a food choice to make me feel crappier on an already crappy day. Very eloquent. I should really be a writer. Must have been the second last day of my period.

Ok. That was more than a minute. I guess it depends on how quickly one reads. Maybe I’ll make it one post on its own.

Not Food:

5.       So I’ve also wanted to write about being a Creative. What is a Creative (with a capital C) and how does one become one? How does one know if one is one? How many times can one use one to describe oneself in sentence anyway?

I have often felt a bit like I have serviceable skills in a number of areas and no real exceptional skills in any particular area. This might be true. For some reason I have this idea that there should be SOMETHING that is my one incredible exceptional talent. I don’t know where I picked it up. Maybe the same place “they” try to teach us that there is only one true love out there for each person. The B.S. factory.

What does this have to do with being a Creative? Well, I guess it is thinking that I should have one kind of art that I do and do well. Like make it a career well. I often lay awake fantasizing about how I will make a job out of my creative pursuits. Here is the thing. I don’t have a specialization, and so I often doubt that I will be able to ACTUALLY sell any of the things I make. I like to make. I like it a lot. I make all kinds of things, but I am an amateur at all the things I make. I took up knitting a few years ago, but I don’t make my own patterns I just make ones I find for free online. And I haven’t even finished a project bigger than a toque. For a baby. But I’m close. I don’t think I could sell knitting anyway.

I’ve been making cloth dolls for my girls. I like to bind leather covered books. I write. Making things makes me happy. It is a life giving thing.

I have been falling in obsessive love with pottery. Like I think about it all the time. I stress out about glaze fires to the point of glazing and re-glazing pieces after laying awake at night thinking about how I did it wrong. But I am still an amateur. Just learning the ropes. The thing is, I will always be an amateur if I don’t put the work into something. The woman at my pottery guild who inspires me said there is a book out there that says it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert at something. That is five years of full time work. Will it take me the equivalent of five years of full time work to become a Creative? Do I need to settle down and just work on ONE kind of creativity?

One of the things I really want to do is start selling pottery because I honestly don’t have room to keep it, and I’d like for this obsessive habit to cost me zero money. But am I good enough to do it? This makes also makes me sound cheap. I am. I want to be generous and give pieces to everyone I know, but I only know so many people. And they might not want my attempts at pottery in their homes. SO if I sell it, people will pick pieces they actually want and I will feel accomplished. Like I’m a real Creative.

Is being a Creative equivalent to selling one’s work? Probably not. If the statement I mentioned above, “there can never be too much beauty in the world” is true, just the act of making, or the way in which we “do” the things we do should be the definition of being a Creative. I guess by our nature, we are all Creatives, styled after the greatest Creator of All.

Perhaps the lesson for me here is to worry less (stop worrying and wondering completely) about defining myself by my own means or by how saleable I am or by some social construct. There is a deeper, truer truth about who I am. Help me settle into that. And maybe sell a few pots. And maybe a doll. Or a book. How does one create and Etsy shop anyway?

6.       Often when I am writing, I am tempted to use the pronoun “you.” As if I can define you all by my experiences or by some general statement or universal feeling. I am trying real hard to stop it. When I write word “you” in my pieces now, I go back and try to change the pronoun to “I”. This is my story anyway. And, I don’t need to project onto you how you feel or what you should do when really, these writings are mostly cathartic exercises for me and a chance to analyze and come to terms with some aspect of my life. Anyway. I feel a bit like it is rude and presumptuous to put you into my head.

7.       I don’t know if any of this has been useful, but I have been thinking about all of these things for months and it was finally time to put them out there. If you made it to the end, you are a champion! God bless you, heal you and free you.

Peace.

The Dreadliest Catch

Dread Update!

Let me start by saying that I just wasn’t cool enough to rep the dreads to their full potential.

It was a struggle. I knew it was going to be. I knew they were a lot of work. I knew they needed some serious love and attention if I wanted them to look tidy and tight and kempt - yes, I do believe dreads can look kempt. Alas, the vision of tight, ropy, waist-length dreads, adorned with shells and coloured twine skyrocketing my coolness level to unimaginable heights was not to be. I cut them off.

I had one dread that was two years old, and it was beautiful. It fell nicely, it was tight, it had a big ass bead on it. It was the example I knew could be achieved if I dedicated two solid years to allow the dreads to mature. Fuzzy, loopy, and I had a bunch of rogue hairs lose all over the place.  This would be my hair reality for dos anos unless I put in some serious maintenance or had serious patience. Or went blind. The issue was multiplied because I have just experienced postpartum hair loss. It’s a thing. I have thousands of fine downy hairs all over my head. New growth from the molting event that recently occurred. And believe it or not, all those new hairs don’t know they are supposed to tuck themselves nicely into dreads. As a result they just stick out everywhere. Its really attractive. Trust me.

I had honestly considered cutting them off around Christmas, but I had some encouraging people who helped me rally for a few more months.  I thought I could hold on until two years. I really did. I thought I had set my resolve. But one Sunday night, after a shower, I was lamenting the ability to scratch my whole scalp at once and as I crawled into bed with my family for some down time before we went to sleep, I voiced the unimaginable:

“Should I cut these dreads off?”

“Yes!” - my husband hates the dreads.

He patiently let me run where my hippy heart would, but he did not like the mass of snarls and scratchy ropy tresses that now graced my noggin. I mentioned when I started this journey, that I am a short haired girl. I haven’t looked like myself in almost 4 years. Neither of us thought so.

Not Me. (2016)

Me. (2006)

The hubs didn’t just immediately jump on the “hack off the dreads” band wagon. He actually questioned me first. Was this a knee jerk moment? Was this something I was going to regret doing? Was this the first moment I had thought about cutting the dreads? I appreciate that he gave me space to make my own decision here instead of pushing his anti-dread agenda.

After waffling back and forth for a few minutes, I just went and did it. One at a time I used a pair of dull scissors and literally hacked each one off. I had all kinds of longish strands that were sticking out all over. Nothing was even. It looked like a huge mess. And then I had another shower to wash all the extra shorties and loose hair out. And it felt amazing. A.MAZE.ING!

Take a minute to drink in this masterpiece.
Like a train-wreck, it is hard to look away from.

I’ve got to be honest - the dreads were just not jiving with me and my lifestyle. In fact, because I am a short haired girl at heart, I didn’t like the way the dreads looked when they were hanging down around my face. As a result I kept them up most of the time and the extra weight sticking out from the back of my head made my neck hurt. And it bumped into the headrest in my car. I had to pile them up on top of my head or take my messy dread bun out to drive. When a hairstyle starts causing one pain, it is probably time to give up on it.

Also, they weren’t working with being a mom for me. They would get in the kids’ faces, and they weren’t nice to cuddle with. Not to mention how I would sprawl them across my pillow at night. It doesn’t really create space for kids or spouses to come close and cuddle. (Not that I am opposed to the space - I am not a cuddler - but they all are, and they all need some of that physical attention from me.)

So Monday I called a hair salon to see if I could get the hack job cleaned up, and I was fit in that afternoon. And finally after years growing my hair and about 10 months of dreads, I am a short haired girl again.

I LOVE IT. I was a little worried that I wouldn’t look right - maybe I was too chubby now for short hair. But for real. I feel like a babe. I am so happy to be back to me. And my husband has been enjoying rubbing my short hair head and snuggling up closer than he has been able to since my thick hair started getting some serious length.

I talked with some of the girls I have met since moving - they only know me with long hair/dreads so this is a big change for them. Everyone has been super enthusiastic about the hair, but I was talking to a girl about how we both tend to start projects or skills or whatever and not finish them. She jokingly said that she had failed herself so many times that she didn't want to start something new. I am not looking at this as a failure. I tried something that many people won't try. It was a long term commitment - growing my hair and putting in the dreads and letting them mature as much as I could - and I did it. No one helped me. I gave it my best shot. And in the end I found out it wasn't me. That I already knew who me was in the hair department and I am back there. Do I regret the time I spent doing this thing? Not at all. It was a rad journey that I can talk about and gave me some insights I would have never gotten if I hadn't walked this road. Try things out. Even if in the end you revert back to what you knew before - it isn't actually regression. It is an experience and a stretching. And my hair might be back to "normal" now - but I KNOW more about who I am because I walked out a different image for a while.

Thus ends a narcissistic chapter of my life in hair.

Peace.

Discontent Part 2

Contributing Factors

So feeling discontented has got to be coming from somewhere. Last post I outlined areas in my life I feel discontent with. I don't want to be a person who lives with an uneasy feeling, packing it around like whiny child and pretending that this is how it's supposed to be. I want resolution! Where are some of these feelings coming from? Let's break it down.

1.     Pinterest Stress. I Admit it. It is an embarrassing thing to admit to, and I loathe the title: Pinterest Stress. I wish there was something more dignified to call it - but there it is. This awful phrase is an over simplification of a sort of over arching problem of too much social media. There are just so many AMAZING things going on in people’s lives, I get excited about them all and I think I should be doing ALL THE THINGS. Here is a brief glimpse of all the things that inspire parts of my heart mind or soul:

a.    Living with no furniture! This is an article about Katy Bowman and her family and how they have no chairs and they basically sleep on the floor and go barefoot all the time in the name of good health!  Love.

b.   Living in a Tent! While building a homestead! You can check out this super rad adventure at firsttimefarmers.com

Figure 1: Photo credits to @firsttimefarmers via Instagram

Figure 1: Photo credits to @firsttimefarmers via Instagram

c.    Giving my kids adventurous, outdoor exploration and appreciation like Wild Explorers Club

Figure 2 Photo Credit to @nicolebianchi_ Instagram - via @wildexplorersclub

d.    Getting rid of basically everything we own and living a minimalist lifestyle.  Amanda Gregory is maxing minimalism in a beautiful way @mytinytribe on Instagram.

Figure 3: Photo Creds to @mytinytribe via Instagram

All her kids’ toys fit in that one basket. I kid you not. #my_minimalist_mondays

e.    Jumping into a van/bus/air-stream/tin-can/old motor-home and driving across the planet experiencing all there is to take in in this wild wide world. Check out one such adventure at www.americanfrolic.com

Figure 4: Photo Creds to @americanfrolic via Instagram

All of these examples are just a small smattering of the amazing things I have been reading about and wanting to do. I could list about 10 other things here - many of which are diametrically opposed to each other - that catch my attention and my heart. I mean, how can I travel the world and have a homestead? It ain’t gonna happen. In fact, as I was beginning to identify this as a thing in my brain, the Holy Spirit spoke some very profound words to me: “Mind your own business and do your laundry.” Touché.

2.    I am into year two of my life being drastically different than it has been in the past 10 years. The past ever, actually. I’ve never been a stay at home mom before, and “busy” for me used to mean I ran from one activity to the next, visiting with friends, teaching high school or running youth ministry. Suppers with people, movie dates, marking, planning retreats, meetings with fellow teachers or youth ministers who were excited about doing rad and creative things for kids. These days “busy” means that life moves so slowly, that once you take out meals and naps and the prep and time each involves, we can only do two other things in a day - if we are lucky. Clean. Take the dog for a walk. Go to a parent link activity. Visit friends. Bake. Pick up dog poo. Garden (if the kids allow it). Do something creative like write or sew or knit (if the kids allow it). Go to a park. Go to the backyard. And if I want to go do something myself - well that happens on Wednesday evening for 75 minutes. I go to an exercise class. If the kids allow.

These are pretty simple things. These things are my life. On the one hand, THESE THINGS ARE MY LIFE!!!!!! On the other hand, these things are my life.

This is what I like t call, the lack of the “Big Show.” I used to be a player in the “Big Show.” Now I am stage directing a “Little Show.”

I could list more things I guess, but really it comes down to these things. Actually it seems to all boil down to one thing now that I have it written out: lack of perceived adventure.

Perceived because I am on a journey right now that I have never been on before - so this season is inherently adventurous. Hmmmmmm. - I was expecting this post to take a different route. I was going to lay out a whole bunch of things and solve each problem. Funny how when I write things down through the course of a few weeks there is unexpected revelation.

Stay tuned for part three which I can see taking shape in my mind’s eye as I type: ways I am truly living adventure - a mind shift.

Peace.