Self hate and Chiropractors.

I went to the chiropractor today to diagnosis and treat a backache Ive had for 6 months. The diagnosis ? Low self esteem.

For as long as I can remember Ive been told to “pick my head up” to “show my face to the world” and for as long as I remember, Ive turned my face downward and curled my shoulders in. This is my signature posture…. shoulders slumped, and head down, where I belong.. do not take up too much space. It is not uncommon for me to historically run into people at work because I was looking at the ground while walking. What I learned today is that, believing the lie that I wasn’t worthy has caused my spine to grow in strange ways and arthritis to form. I have never more than now believed that what we tell ourselves causes our disease. I have literally caused my body to do this by what I have been telling myself for 40 years.

Heres the good news. For the past year, I have been learning to hold my head up (literally and figuratively ) so the repair has already been occurring. The doctor today showed me how when I curl in the way I have all my life, I cant even breathe right, my nerves don’t work right, my blood doesn’t flow correctly and my nerves cant function the way they are supposed to…. all because of what I am telling myself in my mind. I need to open my chest, my chakras, I need to hold my head back and back straight for my body to function to its full capacity. I am so sad that I have done this to myself and been so mean to myself for all of these years, but I am so grateful to have discovered it and excited to treat my body well. I am excited to do yoga and to put my phone down and be present to what is going on around me. I am looking forward to treating the outside as well as I have been the inside the past year. The next frontier is on the horizon.


The Long Road to Freedom.

The earliest memory I have of having issues with food is having my mom and Grandma drive me to a Weight Watchers meeting at the age of 12 years old. I had no idea why I was there, or what I was doing, but all I knew is when you got on the scale in the front of the room and if you lost weight that week, everyone applauded. Applause felt nice. It was warm. I sat in rows among women 30 and 40 years my senior who had been battling themselves for years, you could see it through their eyes all the way down to their souls. Through those same tired eyes, they kept encouraging me and telling me I was good as if my success meant one day they might be ok too. Little did I know; this was my initiation to join them and think of little else for the next 3 decades.

From ages 12-22 I had a small reprieve from food because alcohol took precedence. Who cares about food when you have the elixir from heaven (tongue in cheek) . After I got sober, at age 21, I turned full bore to food. Food was my best friend, my confidante, it was always there, it never let me down. When those childhood memories started creeping up….. it was there. When I felt ashamed and afraid – food. The good thing about food , it was completely socially acceptable, more so than alcohol. When you are in a food coma, its less obvious than being fall down drunk. You could even attend self help meetings with a sugar high, completely ok ! No one suspected a thing. I could continue presenting to the world that everything was just fine and soothe the inner demons at the same time. Ive heard it been said that the only thing that happens to someone who overeats is “they become fat”. HA. That one makes me laugh and cry from the deepest parts of my being. Because the deepest parts of my being is where the pain is at. It may seem like “fat” is my problem and I “should just put down the fork” but the truth is, food is my only solution… Underneath that fat is a world of pain and confusion.

As the years crept on, the weight did too. Now here is where being a food addict and a human being get tricky. I need food to feel ok in my skin, but Im also self-obsessed and need to “look like Im ok” I had previously tried to experiment with vomiting, but I have never been good at that. I have aspired to be the best bulimic out there, but Im not a real classy puker ~ enter laxatives. These pretty little BFFs were now the key to allowing me to medicate what ails me and stay thin, never mind I sometimes got heart palpitations. I would tell myself Im not really that bad because I would never ever take diet pills. Diet pills terrified me as these turned on my mom and took her down years prior. I totally had this under control. Food and laxatives, laxatives and food. My best friends forever. Us against the world….. for a little while. Over the years I had tried every diet you known to man as well. Drinking only shakes, drinking only juice so much that I would canker sores in my mouth from the acid, eating only vegetables eating only protein, allowing myself to only eat at certain times, never eating in resteraunts, eating only organic foods, counting calories, counting carbs, intuitively eating, the list goes on and on. As I had mentioned earlier, I was in recovery from alcohol and the more I recovered through the years , the more I started to see , little by little, what I was doing to myself and what I was doing exactly was dying inside each bite I took, every macronutrient I counted and each time I stepped on a scale to measure my worth. Each step was a step closer to death… perhaps not a physical death, but a death of my soul for sure.


Be still.

Sitting on my hands tonight. Sitting. Not sure where I fit. The people around me are young and laughing and flirting with one another. They can eat pizza and drink beer tonight after class and tomorrow they can make it to their 8:00 AM class. I am alone among them. I feel old , and large and tired. I want to go home where i am comfortable. I am mom. I am wife. Where I am safe. Be still. I question the decisions I made today at work. I question the decisions I make with myself. I wonder if i am accepting myself or letting myself go. I smile at the cashier when I buy my tea. I relate to her. I understand her. We are one. Now I am in class.
I come to class. I am the first one here because i enjoy the quiet. I enjoy the time to just be. I question if I will pass this class. Deduction and Hypothesis. Be still.
A youngish man, meh perhaps 24 , comes in and joins me. He asks me what I think of the class. He tells me he is struggling. He wonders if anyone else is and he fears he will fail. We share. We are are two. I am thankful. I am still.


I’ve been struggling the past week or so ~ as I do sometimes … Well, like clockwork actually- every 21 days.. I struggle. I struggle to feel good and hopeful and faithful and joyful. And I’m so grateful for authors and other beautiful souls ~ this is what saved me today – 

The Erasing


7 year itch 

Happy 7 year anniversary to my husband. Seven year itch you say? Meh. I think we would both agree the past year has been our best yet. Not because we got a long so perfectly and don’t struggle, not because we came into a ton of money, or we achieved great material things… Not because our kids are perfect, our jobs are perfect and our home is perfect ~
Truthfully we had a few material upsets the past year, truthfully we annoy each other daily, truthfully we take turns being selfish, truthfully we live in a humble home , truthfully we have both spent sleepless nights worrying about a child or two but it’s been our best year yet because we are both achieving clarity inside. We are learning more and more that we do not belong to the other. We are learning what it means that no human power can save us, including and (especially) one another. We are learning that faith on something bigger than us is the only way through. We are learning the art of sharing our fears, defects and selfishness every day and inviting God into our lives all day long to help us get it better. We are learning that if the other one walked away, we wouldn’t die. We may be sad, we may even be angry, but we wouldn’t die, and it wouldn’t even be about us. We are learning not to take anything personal. We are learning that if the grass looks greener, it’s totally because we have weeds in our own yard. If we hop the fence, we are sure to have brought our wagon full of delusions right with us. We are learning what it means that to truly love someone else, you have to accept and remember how much you are loved by God and once you realize that, you get to carry that outside of you and see it in others. And once you believe that, you get to let down your guard and let people be who they are. No matter how hormonal and irrational they can be or how loudly they chew their cereal. its been the best year yet…. soley because this is the year we surrendered the most. Happy Anniversary ❤️


Open letter to my loved ones 

An open letter to my loved ones

 (if you’re reading this, that means you)

I come from a long line of disordered eating & diet obsession ~ were talking 

DIS-frickinORDERED – with a capital D (confused , not normal, really messed up)

Historically it’s taken the life of my very own mom at 46 years old as many of you know & I’ve personally taken it to EXTREMES.  Such extremes, I’ll never discuss them with many. The reason I tell you this, is to maybe help understand why I get so petrified  to discuss diets , to discuss  weight gain or loss  , what everyones eating , whether or not I am in ketosis etc.. Because when i do that, it runs me & when it runs me, it ruins me.. I then focus on nothing else.  And often times I even initiate the conversation , that is , when I’m not spiritually grounded, not doing well, when my focus is elsewhere … I focus on the thing that really isn’t my solution. When I want to run from life it turns into obsession ~ When I focus on the food and the diet, I’m in trouble.  When I focus on how I’m doing spiritually ,on if I’m being of service ,  if I’m treating you and the world right, I soar – Please don’t think this doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you & your success ! I am !  I LOVE to hear your successes ! I’m SO happy for you ..I love you ~ but for me, and my process, I have to do my own thing , quietly .. Inside … Me & God , or it will kill me.  This is fact. So if I’m not joining in the conversation , it’s me quietly caring for myself in the only way I can.  I have worked incredibly hard to get here & been through much sorrow & pain and I hope you understand, I trust you do, for that is why I am letting you see me 150 % right now. ☮


We all have our weird- airport musing

So I’ve learned that we all have our weird. We all have our dysfunction, our beefs, our quirks, our issues. They just look different. Mine might look crazy, chaotic and loud where others might be more quiet and reserved.
Some weird may be in a mansion and a big fancy title and other weird might be in a run down house with no electricity and hand me down clothes. Perhaps the president of the United States, perhaps homeless.

We all have our weird.

We also all have our loved ones. I think we all look at others and think , ” I wish I had what they have”. “I’m a loser for not having that job, that car, that opportunity, those clothes .” But when you really get to be in it , when you really see it right in the middle, you want your own dysfunction and crazy. You miss your weird people. You miss the loudness and dysfunction of your own.
Because when it really comes down to it, to the core… We really are the same. We really are. We come from one source , and were all just branched out differently. No one is better or worse, just different. Just living our gifts in different ways. The smartest person in the room and the one who is judged for being dumb or uncool – All the same, all from the same maker… I love it when I remember that. Sigh.