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The Coffee Break: It Cracked Today And So Did I

Aug22

I lost it this morning over a coffee maker.  Not just any coffee maker, a broken one.  One that was a gift because coffee in the morning is something to enjoy and to breathe in and to slow the minutes.  It’s something I do on purpose.

I’d filled my cup pushing the button with the rim just as gently as every other time.  This time, though, it stuck.  Suddenly, I’m calculating, “How much did I make?” as I’m watching 5 cups of beautifully roasted morning peace spread itself across the counter.  I laughed.  Holly’s dad comes around the corner to find me next to a mountain of Bounty hoping for the best.  He helped me dry the mess and went back to bed before another trip out of state today.  I went to get the baby, admittedly quite pleased with my ability to laugh this one off so well.

I fed Holly her usual breakfast and returned to the kitchen to refill mine.  I pushed the button.  It broke.  This time, so did I.  In one fluid move, I reached for the paper towels to dry the counter and quickly found myself bringing them to my face instead.  I let out one of the most heartbreakingly long sighs I’d ever given and hung my head along with it.  The baby was happily playing in her crib as I could see her tiny feet kicking with glee at the sight of her own warped face in the plastic mirror.  I looked up and found my own surrounded by the frame of my favorite $12 mirror on the kitchen wall.

I had officially lost my shit.  I sobbed as quietly as possible as I dried my face and reached down to clean the other mess.  I found my way to the tool box, pleading with the powers that be to let the power of a Black & Decker screwdriver save the day.  Each twist of the Phillips head felt strangely exhausting.  Soon, I gave up and left the pieces, collected my own, and returned to a cheerful Holly peering up at me from her crib.

I lost it over a coffee maker.  Packed into a few minutes of silent chaos, it was so much more.

It was new motherhood and navigating it like it’s the darkest forrest intertwined with beautifully sun-lit trails.  It was forgetting the meeting last week and forgetting what day this one is.  It was balancing the challenges of parenting life along with the fun of it.  It was finding energy to work and energy to take time away from it.  It was looking in the mirror to find a messy pile of once-styled hair atop a bewildered face wondering if I accidentally gave the baby an extra drop of D3.  It was wondering what that might do if I had.  It was glancing into her room to make sure she was safe and looking into the next to make sure her daddy was still asleep after the thunderous tumble of the hairbrush into the fiberglass tub.  It was standing in the kitchen losing my damn marbles over plastic and metal representing my only purposeful break of the day.

It was the moment I realized that this tiny human, our tiny human, was looking at me- tear-stained face and all.  While I’m doing all I can to stop the world for a minute, she’s looking at me to make it turn.  And suddenly, I forgot everything.

 

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Dear Girl: A letter to my yesterday.

Jan17

You’ll be ok, dear girl. You’ll find things you never knew existed. Like the feeling you’ll have of knowing yourself. You’ll find that you’re the only one who truly does, flaws and all, and that’s ok.

You’ll be accepted, dear girl. But they won’t hear you until you speak. You won’t know yourself until you do, either. So speak, sweet one, and let them know why you choose to.

You’ll be in pain, dear girl. You’ll find the depth of loss which is ironic. But once you do, you’ll feel the power of it. You’ll use it. And you’ll find so much more under a torturous void created to strengthen you and the wisdom to finally use it.

You’ll be tired, dear girl. You’ll feel the drain of excitement and the ache of what you think is certain death. But you’ll be replenished. You, your entire being will meticulously fill every space left of what has felt so empty.

You’ll be loved, dear girl. Sometimes you won’t know it and sometimes you’ll vehemently deny such a thing. You’ll fight your own mind until one side gives up. For you, sweet one, you’ll know when it fell to the side meant for you.

You’ll be happy, dear girl. And you’ll know exactly what lets you be.

7 Years – 7 Letters – 7 Truths

Sep27
7 years ago today, I took the first of many chances.
Chances–  7 letters spell the outline of what your life could be.  I’ve had to figure out how to spell it for my world.  Here’s what 7 years and 7 letters have taught me:
C– Change–  This has been the most challenging aspect for me.  The decision to change comes first.  The struggle to keep it stays the whole time.
H– Help–  Helping myself became the key to helping anyone else.  After realizing the difference between doing it selfishly and doing it productively, it has become one of my most valuable resources.  It is often the first word of advice I share with anyone struggling through a personal transformation.  Breathe in your own oxygen first in order to share your energy with others.
A– Ambition–  Setting goals can be overwhelming.  If you’re anything like me, you’re totally not OK with waiting for them.  This is where the smallest goals are the biggest.  I’ve found that setting small, seemingly mundane goals throughout my day or week has been the only way to keep the long-term ones from burning up in a cloud of flames..
N– New– We have all heard about the days being new and how we’re supposed to magically forget our troubles along with the last one.  Here’s what I’ve learned in 7 years of trying to convince myself that it’s possible.  It isn’t.  New, to me, means accepting new perspectives from wherever they show.  New means appreciating a pair of thrift store jeans you couldn’t ever wear before because there weren’t many size 28 Talls around.  New, to me, means looking back and finding the experiences of yesterday becoming an avenue for tomorrow.
C– Challenge–  Challenge comes in many forms.  One of my favorite and most loathed-  Running.  I love it.  I despise it.  It’s agony some days and pure bliss through others.  It’s a challenge and it’s ever-changing.
E– Experience–  We all have it.  How do we share it?  The point is-  We get to.  My scars tell mine quite literally.  My Frankenbody is the paper and I am the pen.
S– Silent Stories–  7 years of transforming physically, mentally, and emotionally has taught me something I never knew I’d need.  I’ve finally applied a term to this.  These are the stories your experiences tell without words.  No one may know where our past started or how it ended up to be our present.  They may judge us before they know.  Even once they do, they may still.  But our silent stories are worth more than we can ever imagine as long as we tell them each day in our actions.
7 years have given me my life back in more ways than I thought possible.  Mostly, they have handed me an infinite amount of chances. 
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(Ok.. And a sweet pair of bat wings I’ve grown to love.)  

How do you spell your chances?

The One With The Food: Quick, Clean, and A No-Bake Guarantee.

Sep18

As the weather cools off and the evenings free up, I have found myself starting to cook more often.  There’s something about Fall that makes it one of the most peaceful and gratifying things for me to do!

I get asked quite a bit about my favorite go-to recipes and things to keep on hand.  So here we go!  I love to stay with a gluten-free, whole-food approach to anything I make at home.  These are three of my quick and easy favorites!

 

 

Grilled Pineapple, Onions, & Jalapeno

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Stay with me here.. It LOOKS very strange.  It’s actually very good and as a bonus, it’s adjustable!

Slice a fresh pineapple however you like it.  I prefer chopped.  Add a sliced jalapeno and chopped onion and grill until it’s slightly browned.  Trust me on this one.

 

 

Who doesn’t love pancakes?!  On to the next one:

Easy Egg-Banana Pancackes

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This one is just as easy!  I take two fresh eggs and mix them with a banana until it’s a relatively smooth consistency.  The eggs will allow the banana to set.  I grill mine over a little bit of coconut oil until they’re cooked through and drizzle with raw, unfiltered honey.  Perfection in the form of protein and potassium for breakfast.

 

The next one comes with a disclaimer:  These will be gone before they hit the counter.  It may be best to make these under cover of night before the other house mates catch wind of it.

 

 

Reptar Bars 

(Hey.. I had to think of something besides “Magic”..)

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Ground Almonds

Pumpkin Seeds

Pecans

Flaxseeds

Dried Cranberries

Honey

Coconut Oil

You can adjust this however you’d prefer.  I like to take a little of each in a bowl and add the honey and coconut oil until it’s pliable but holds together.  Spread the resulting mixture into a thinly oiled pan until they’re a little over an inch thick.  I cover them with wax paper and let them set for about an hour in the fridge.  This is one that may take some trial and error.  I cannot tell you how many times I’ve ended up with something more like granola cereal instead.  No matter what, it will be just as good!

 

I hope you’ll try these and enjoy!

Translating Transformation- A Different Point Of View

Sep11
How do you take on something that overwhelms you?
How do you turn doubt into determination?
How do you translate someone’s perception of you or your actions?
These are questions I’ve asked myself as I go through yet another shift in my Darah-fied life.  I keep coming back to the same conclusion:
Transformation isn’t about your image.  It’s about the image of everything else to you.
Let’s break it on down now!
Transformation isn’t about your image.  
How are we presenting ourselves as authentically as possible?  The truth of the matter is this-  Our ability to be authentic requires us to do some ridiculously tough but valuable work in looking at ourselves.  Human nature is to run from discomfort and one of the most uncomfortable things in life is to look at our own flaws while simultaneously displaying our own vulnerability in the form of.. well.. every bit of what makes us who we are.
Transformation is about the image of everything else to you.
It’s about perception. It’s all in the approach and how you choose to navigate things you see and experience. This is where the aforementioned questions come in for me.  Allow me to present a super detailed info-graphic**:
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**Not an accurate depiction of how it looks in my mind.***
*** Note to self: Work on design skills.
If you’re anything like me, an idea can quickly become a challenge.  This can be a good thing!  The problem is this:  If I don’t focus on how I personally approach that challenge, it can then become an obstacle.  The obstacle starts to seem insurmountable.  I start to realize how done I am with stressing over it and I’m back to where I started before I even began.
Lately, I’ve shifted my focus to small changes instead of giant ones.  This strategy allows me to maintain some balance while everything else is shifting.  While I have undergone some pretty sizable transformations in my 33 years, none of them have been without self-doubt, outright failures, and numerous “restarts”-  You know those Mondays where you promise yourself you’ll start fresh right after you enjoy a ridiculously lazy and gluttonous Sunday night.  I have done this using three key thoughts.
*Missing a personal goal isn’t failing as long as I’ve successfully tried.
*Try again.
*Smaller goals in daily life can be as simple as drinking more water than you did yesterday.
True transformation begins with looking at that line between our own view and theirs.  
True transformation shows us our strengths, weaknesses, and willingness to challenge them.

The Power Of Progress: Using A Changing Life

Aug14
September 27, 2010-  I was a nervous wreck.  I woke up after about 2 hours of sleep and thought about the day ahead.  Mostly, how much of it I wouldn’t remember.  My joints ached and my thoughts raced as I pulled on my 3x pajama bottoms and 4x tee shirt.  This was the day I’d cross the point of no return.  Really, the point of no more binges and nights alone with just Papa John’s and me.  No more thoughts of what someone would shout as I crossed the street.  I spent countless nights sinking deeper into a cage I’d created for myself.  I wouldn’t look forward to spending nights alone in my own thoughts.  I’d look forward to the relief of knowing I wouldn’t have to be seen or share them with anyone else.
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“How am I going to lead these girls up a mountain hike?”-  Me

September 27 was the day I went in for a life changer called a Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy.  I’d tried numerous methods of weight loss and, as statistics seem to reflect, I spun the needle on the scale back and forth all while exhibiting symptoms of early heart failure and diabetes.  I was 26.  I was not ready to die so young.
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9-27-10-  The day of no return-  Still clearly not into looking at cameras.

I was told countless times all the ins and outs of the procedure and what it would require going forward.  I was excited and so completely ready.  Soon after recovery, I was able to start walking more comfortably and slowly began reintroducing healthier foods in smaller quantities.  I took any chance I got to keep moving as the excitement of melting out of my clothes took hold.  Once I could walk a full mile, I decided to try running a lap.  Then 3.  Then more.  I had the support of my friends and family and a particularly headstrong coworker who ran with me.  I felt lighter and physically able to do much more.  I started buying all of my clothes in thrift shops because I actually could now.  Gone were the days of hiding and fielding unsolicited rude comments by anyone who felt entitled to share.
For a while.
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Two months of progress- Two more months of still avoiding cameras.

I had a new body still covered in the skin from a 200 pound prison that had disappeared.  I learned to dress myself differently to highlight what felt good to me.  Most of all, I learned to embrace that I was about to become a patchwork quilt and a story in organic form.  I named it my Franken-body.
Still-  The comments trickled but still existed.  One particular evening, I approached my car post-grocery shopping and a lady with short blonde hair, a blue Geo Metro and a camel between her teeth urgently requests to me, “Walk faster, fatty!” as she waited for my front row parking spot.  I obliged without saying a word.  It didn’t hurt so much as it shocked me.  I was no longer a size 28.  I was a size 12- One size smaller than the national average.  From that moment, I started to really pay attention to how differently people treat others based on appearance only.  My size no longer mattered to me as much as my reflection of how one should be treated did.  I vowed at that moment to always pay attention in every way I could.
A year passed and I had entered the world of dating.  I was 28 and hadn’t ever experienced such a thing.  It was exciting and uncomfortable in the best way!  I learned more than I ever thought I could about life through stepping all over the edge of my comfort zone.  I’d been hidden away by several in the previous years only to be acknowledged privately.  I was relieved I didn’t have to hide.. But more relieved I didn’t have to be hidden.   It was an interesting experiment in the handling personal relationships.  I learned to forgive more and stand up for myself to those who suddenly treated me differently than they had before.  I learned to develop what I wanted and how I wanted to achieve it.  I learned that it was okay to trip and fall all over my decisions because they didn’t hurt so badly anymore.  They were supposed to be there to teach me.
In the past 7 years, my life has introduced me to greater love than I ever imagined, greater loss than I was prepared to experience, and the greatest lessons along the way.  While I’ve lost count of how many scars I have or how much weight I’ve gained or lost, I have started to view it all as a part of exactly who I am and who I’ll become.  I embrace each curve these scars take just as I embrace the new ones that fluctuate with the weight I gain and lose.  Through heartbreak or happiness, they are still there changing right along with me.  I’ve had numerous doctors ask if I’d like something to lighten the dark lines where the stitches were or to cover them up.  I knew I’d reached my purpose when my first question back to them started being a genuinely confused yet poignant, “Why?”
I’m reminded of them each time I pull on my favorite dress and actually like that it reveals part of the patchwork quilt I’ve become.  I’m reminded of how far things have come each time I wave and my beloved bat wings keep waving long after my hands have.  I have my moments of regret and insecurity.  Somehow though, I’ve been able to use my experience to pull away from the dark pages and into the silver lining of the entire book.  I have no idea how I got so lucky, but I’m constantly learning why I did.
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I’m reminded that I have a story to tell and I’m reminded of how lucky I am to tell it.  I am still judged harshly just as we all are in different ways.  I’m surprised, though, at how beautiful our imperfections can be.  The jagged edge of what used to be a fuller body is now quite literally the signature on the work of art.  We don’t often get those opportunities in life.  The body I had once created as protection has become one I’ve gotten to remake as a canvas.  It serves as a personal daily testament to the power of progress and it’s a constant reminder to keep using that.
Thank you for being a part of my story.  How do you tell yours?