Month: September 2016

Fall Is Back, It’s Time To Look Forward

fall-dayI’m a few days behind on my autumnal equinox recognition, but like its meaning, it gave me time to reflect on the past season’s abundance, of which there was plenty. Traditionally this changing of the season from summer to fall was celebrated as the second harvest, extolling gratitude for our blessings before the stillness of winter…horns of plenty and all that jazz.

Astrologically this is the time of balance – between light and dark, space and time, ego and soul – a time to remove old limiting patterns and Divinely renew intentions and desires for manifestations. Or simply put, work on our dreams coming true.

victoryFunny thing is, we don’t often realize a dream has come true until hindsight reveals it as such. Sure we have those jump-up-and-down moments when we get some acknowledgment we’re on our way, or validation that we’re on the right path. Those celebratory moments feel good – like baby dreams coming true.

dream-is-realBut if you’re anything like me you dream big – real big. And you start out on the path ready to face and embrace the miracles as they occur. And you have no doubt that there will be miracles because you believe in them. Even in those doubting moments you still keep the faith, keeping the dream alive.

Whether we use vision boards or gratitude lists or just share our dreams out loud, sometimes in the back of our minds we wonder, will this dream ever come true? So we plug away, invested, determined, focused, trying to execute whatever we think will help us reach our heartfelt goal. Every day we try to “get there,” on that road to success. Or we think it’s the road to success.

change-your-thoughtsWhile thoughts become things according to Universal Law, we don’t always know if what we’re thinking is right, let alone what we’re doing, when we don’t see tangible results. Are we on the right path? Or do we need to make a U-turn, better yet get on a new road?

Those answers may or may not clearly come. Ultimately we’re getting somewhere, this is just life. But we have to pay attention to the invisible-visible signs. When the confirmation is confusing, our dreams can take a detour, and we can feel quite off-balance.

still-growingAlthough we may be on our yellow brick road, it’s hard not to depend on others to help lay the bricks. That’s when we get into trouble of course – pinning our hopes on others. But in some cases it’s the actions of others that help make our dreams come true. Like writing a successful blog – it takes readers to excel. I’m nearly 950 posts in, but its growth is going slow.

I invest a lot of time and energy, but is a daily post too much? I get deep satisfaction from doing my soul’s work – I know I came here to write, and it feels completely good. But the perfect recipe or secret of success? I just have no idea.

keep-goingMaybe I’m missing the point. While I’m waiting for the miracle, I’ll look to the end-result…the big picture.

“You can’t expect to see the miracles during the journey,” Mike Dooley says. “You don’t see them until after you arrive.”

We have arrived at the autumnal equinox and I’m grateful for so much. But as the seasons change, so must we. Maybe my focus needs to shift toward fulfilling another dream of writing a book. I’ve thought about this since I was young and who knows if it will fly. But I guess while we’re here, all we can do is try.

horn-of-plentyI’ll still post at least once a week and please weigh in anytime ~ any thoughts, suggestions and ideas are welcome. Thanks to all of you who read, from the bottom of my heart. Abundant blessings to you all, and while I mention it, welcome fall.

 

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Society’s Concept of Custody Leaves Dads Without A Chance

branjelinaBranjelina is hitting a little close to home for Sir Husband and me. First let me say we are not movie star gazers or Hollywood followers,  but we do perk up when we hear something that resonates with our plight.

Accusations from a mother against a father that perpetuate a societal perception that 1. the accusations are unalterably true, and 2. the mother is the victim and thus the better parent, leave us quite perturbed.

Sir Husband is himself a victim – of this ongoing perception. We learned quickly that lawyers usually stand with mothers in defense of a father regardless of what is truly happening in the parents’ private world. In other words – the mother is supported as always right no matter how wrong she may be.

I’m not saying Angelina Jolie is wrong because I do not know. And that’s the point – no one can know no matter what is brought to the public’s eye. The only people who know the truth are the parents and usually the children. But that doesn’t always stop the inaccurate version from permeating the external world. The question is, who is right? Against our perceived accepted norm, it’s not always the mom.

let-go-copyWhen Sir Husband and I reconnected after more than twenty years, we knew our reunion was meant to be and it totally changed our lives. But our happiness at finally being together – this time as more than friends like we were in our teens and 20s – was naturally not well-received by our spouses at the time. Although our marriages were exceedingly miserable, Sir Husband’s Mrs. refused to accept the parting of their ways.

So we found ourselves on the receiving end of her distorted perception about Sir Husband’s rights and ability to be their children’s father. She decided because she was hurt, she would do whatever she could to try to  destroy us – and said so – proceeding on her mission to take away the kids.

fullsizerender-4With zero regard to their children or mine, let alone the participating adults – our extended families too,  she publicly and violently twisted the truth about both Sir Husband and me so vehemently that it was impossible to fight. Her unyielding insistence that her story was completely accurate when it could not be more wrong, was simply accepted because she so whole-heartedly embraced her self-serving victim-role.

I’m not saying Angelina Jolie is a victim or self-serving, our case may be extreme. But when The Mother has spoken, and affirms her version by trying to take away the kids, why do we always just assume the mother is indefensibly right?

I find it interesting that seemingly by nature, divorcing mothers automatically want to remove fathers from their children’s lives. To me that stems from some deep internal hurt in a mother’s own personal vault. She cannot or will not separate from her misery enough to see by doing that it’s the children who are paying for her hurt. Tragically, the children become the weapons in her personal battle.

Sometimes it’s warranted, such as in cases of abuse. Abuse is a big word. What about when mothers claim something that isn’t true? And worse, why do a mother’s destructive actions against a father go unrecognized as her abuse?

Branjelina’s case is spotlighted now and will either justify or alter the trend. In the meantime, “regular” exceptional dads like Sir Husband are left in the vaporous dust.

 

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Can Healing Be Reduced To A Saying On A Shirt?

thats-not-sweatUnlike my children, or even my husband, I own two t-shirts. Two with words on them I mean. Yoga Now Wine Later and Act As If.  T-shirts are no big deal to me, but their messages sure as heck are. They reveal a lot about us, what we believe, how we live, what makes us tick.

yoganowMost people wear their t-shirts, but I use mine as inspirational art – in my dresser drawer. Sure that may be strange, but their words matter to me. Yoga Now Wine Later  describes my daily routine. It’s tangible – I yoga in the morning, I drink wine in the evening. Act as if  is different. It’s conceptual, more like a way of life.

actasifPerfectly folded so I can see the words when I open in my drawer, normally I don’t pay much attention to my clothes until I’m about to put them on. Kind of like our surroundings, we get used to our environment and don’t consciously notice it – especially what’s in our drawers.

But the pumpkin-orange Act As If  caught my eye this morning. And I’m glad it did, because I have been fairly jittery these last few weeks…ok these last few years. I don’t mean to be anxious, in fact by now I should be pretty zen.

suck-it-up-buttlercup-teeNot just because life is finally good, but because I have spent years working hard in what I call “wisdom school,” learning how to navigate my life. I’ve worked with counselors, clinicians, gurus and healers trying to feel better on every level physically and emotionally, heal from trauma, neutralize drama, decrease stress, assimilate existence and live peacefully, from a deeper soul level.

dying-men-darkBut my body and mind remember everything I’ve gone through, even if I don’t. Some of my history is blocked out, some is whole-heartedly embraced. I’ve evolved quite a bit – and p.s. there’s no set scale for how we stack up in our quest. My mind still moves a mile a minute, and my body has a mind of its own. I go from joyful calm to physical symptoms that freak me out.

yoga-crazyWhat brings on the nervous-system buzz? Aside from frequent changes that came with their own levels of intensity, after all these years I hoped wisdom-school work would totally integrate into my life. It has to a point, oftentimes I feel it and am thankful my schooling has paid off. But when my body starts acting up, it sets me down a path. I’m sure it’s just PTSD and “let-down” now that we’re finally settling in.

I was tempted to reach for a valium when I saw my little orange shirt. When we can’t figure out what to do, we have to just act as if, believe it, and get out of our own way.

After all, life is a bowl of cherries, stress is just a myth. (Play along!)

A wise woman once said, “Ride the waves of life, knowing that no matter what comes your way, you’ll be ok. Then deep joy just keeps showing up for Happily Ever After.”

Where do I get that shirt.

attraction-t you-create-your-own-calm

*images courtesy of teespring.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes We Don’t Realize Just How Far We’ve Come

Don’t you love when you stop what you’re doing and notice you’ve accomplished a lot? I can squeeze in a whole day before noon – and let’s cut right to the chase – daily life can be a lot of work so it’s good to knock it down.

Besides my usual routine, yesterday I had to scan nearly 200 pages of my former medical records one slow page at a time, for my new – old – medical team. I’m going back to doctors I saw a long time ago, before I moved away. And sheesh, those 200 pages were only the records from the previous three years.

going-placesIt’s easy to take for granted when we stay settled in one place and our life remains compact. As simple as we want to make it, it’s not easy to move, although I have embraced it over and over as a opportunity to recalibrate, welcoming fresh starts as a vital part of healing from whatever wounds I may have. Clean slates are refreshing.

But this was the first time I moved back to someplace I’ve already been. I didn’t try to or plan it, it just simply worked out. I was thrilled of course and had some expectations which without a doubt were normal. I assumed I would see people who never left, whose lives just went on peacefully while I was participating in my own ongoing drama. I tried not to think about going back in time to a life that used to be, but how could I not?

fought-to-be-meThen it occurred to me. In the years I have been gone I have moved in and out of three states, gotten divorced and remarried, my children have grown up, I have changed my name three times, my hair color a lot, I’ve lost an internal organ, grew and removed a (thankfully) benign breast mass, gotten glasses, become a professional writer, I am not the same.

When I look in the mirror sometimes I don’t even recognize myself. I still feel like me I guess, a little bit, but the image continues to change. Which I just decided should work in my favor. I realized as I was scanning all those records, I have actually reinvented myself. And not just once. Then I started thinking – do we all do that anyway? Is that just part of steadily (or not steadily) advancing through our lives?

processWhen I go see my old doctors they probably won’t recognize me at all. Will I tell them it’s me and throw in a “how have you been all these years?”

I saw a story about past lives online as I was contemplating my old-new self. It said “the question isn’t who are you, but who were you?” This of course was relative to examining lifetimes. I believe in that, but it seems I’ve had plenty of lifetimes in this very one. Then it asked a fundamental question. “Why are you here now?”

fullsizerender-1“It is best not to trudge through the remnants of a distant past, slogging through random moments in order to discover little gems from bygone eras. Rather it is good to know that somewhere buried in your subconsciousness lies the memories of pivotal moments which have shaped your personality and have guided you toward the lessons that you are encountering in this life.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself. It’s about making peace with our past.

Don’t you love when when you stop what you’re doing and notice you’ve accomplished a lot?

 

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Our Comfort Zone Lies Somewhere Between Our Body And The Bus

Three nearly-grown babies and a whole lot of changes in life, I finally got some big news that for many years I thought I would dread. I officially hit the M-word. It’s like a big accomplishment – I would like a commemorative cake.

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unknownWhen I texted Sir Husband to tell him I finally crossed into the No More Babies On Board zone, he sent me a text of happy, celebration emojis. That’s because he has seen how uncomfortable I have been inside my own skin. No need to list all the symptoms of the post-childbearing years, but I have not fared too well.

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Discomfort by definition can span the gamut from body to mind and everything in between – it’s all interconnected. So when something is off balance we feel it, and it often shows. That goes for anyone – comfort zones are personal, life changes or not. Our comfort can be challenged, sometimes every day just interacting in life, our job, or simply out in the world.

red-lineThe other day we headed to a city festival where parking is tricky, so we took the subway. It’s not that I never liked the train, I just found driving more comfortable. I’m in my own little space, I can control the music, the temperature or stopping if I need to pee. But the other day we took the train as far as we could to get to this festival, then we had to hop a bus.

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I never rode a city busy in my life. Sir Husband on the other hand, loves public transportation and uses it a lot. So I did the best I could. I got my bus ticket (they don’t take cash,) I tried to put it in the right slot on the bus (the driver had to help,) I grabbed two seats in the front and pretended to be fine. I had no idea where we were going or where to get off, or even what to do.

To make matters worse, we had gotten on the wrong bus, and by the time we figured that out, we were in another part of the city. I maneuvered toward ear-shot range of the driver (are you even allowed to get up on a moving bus?) and asked her where we should go.

“You’re on the wrong bus honey,” she said. “You need to go the other way.”

tstopSir Husband of course was fine, but cringed at my expressions trying to stay calm. We got off at the next corner and walked several blocks to another stop. While we waited there for what felt like forever, we talked about my strain. I’m not going to lie – I was uncomfortable. Riding a public bus was outside of my comfort zone.

When the right bus finally pulled up and we got on, I acted like I knew what I was doing. But before I even had my ticket in the slot (this time I got it right,) the driver looked at me and said, “Well hello again!”

It was the same driver as our wrong bus. She had made a big loop around the city and was headed back.

I don’t know what happened, but she made me laugh and smile. We chatted all the way to our stop – and she didn’t make me sit down. I was actually kind of bummed when it was time to get off.

See how feeling comfortable works? Even when it’s something we dread? You just never know. Discomfort may be in our body, but it’s also in our head.

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You Don’t Like Me Being Myself? That’s A Shame, I Am Who I Am

Is it just me, or is anyone else noticing that people around them are quick to defend their thinking, quantify their judgements, and sometimes even shut another person down. I don’t know if it’s the political season that has people all stirred up, an overall shift in society that culturalists will eventually sort out, or if it’s simply about myself.

I’ve noticed this for a while now, and it came to a head for me when the other day I ran into a former BFF. I say former because many years ago, eight to be exact, she “broke up” with me. I was in the thick of my earlier life’s drama, and honestly it was bad. So although it was heartbreaking at the time I did the grown-up thing and accepted it.

hemingway-quoteShe wasn’t the only one, over the course of the next few years I lost almost all of my best-friend tribe. On the fringes of understanding it, I tried to sort it out. My life was a disaster, so I was who I was at the time.

Although a few things nudged at me about how I came across, the bottom line was I was dumped essentially for being me. Looking back through my life though, I hate to admit it was a common theme, sometimes even I found it tough to be around me.

So the other day I accidentally ran into my old “friend,” and she was fairly shocked. She knew I had moved away, but didn’t know I recently moved back. It was a strained conversation but pleasant enough, more than I thought it would be. So I casually asked her if she might want to get coffee or lunch and this was her reply ~

“Hmmm. Let me think about it.”

prove-worthOoooh. Ouch. That’s how I took it anyway, because it’s been a lot of years. Life has a way of changing people for the better or the worse. In my case I know I’m different and better – evolved and grown – in fact I may have totally changed. I told her that in not so many words but apparently it wasn’t enough.

I got this sick feeling in my gut which was a telltale sign. I have let all my old baggage go, but it was clear that she has not.

But it’s not just her response that is on my mind, it is in several places I turn. What is it that people don’t like about someone just being themselves? It must challenge comfort levels, something I know I do.

no-one-is-youI just love how honest and raw you are, not trying to be anything but yourself, a friend recently said to me. Her words meant so much, they were the acceptance of who I am.

That seems rare these days as she also pointed out – It’s so refreshing in a universe where everyone is addicted to the theater of social media.

Is that what is perpetuating the prevalent “I am right and you are wrong” rigid, uncaring attitude?

Hmmm.

Let me think about it.

 

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If My Walls Could Talk They’d Ask For Fresh Paint

old-paintbrushesEvery day I look around our new house – well new-to-us old condo – and cringe at the tired paint on the walls. In fact, I’m not sure it’s been painted in decades. It borderlines hideous to me.

I’m not ashamed to admit that – or maybe a little I am. I grew up with an interior decorator mother who made everywhere we lived look good. Maybe sometimes it wasn’t my taste, but it was the finest in decorating style.

Combine that with 24 moves in my life…24 moves…and I have learned a lot about myself figure-out-at-onceand my surroundings, and what matters most to me. Paint of course is one of them. That’s fairly easy to rectify – it’s the time and effort involved. So until I can muster up the energy, I’m trying to deal with the drab.

But it’s gotten me to think a lot about our essentials for comfort and style. For most of those 24 moves I hauled around all my furniture moving truck after moving truck across numerous state and city lines carefully packing then unpacking and precisely placing everything so it looked and felt perfect. It never seemed silly to me to utilize my nurtured ability to create a magazine-photo-worthy space. After all, we want to feel good in our surroundings.

live-in-possibilityI don’t know if it’s midlife, or hormones, or exhaustion, or burn out, the lack of budget, the fact that we have decided to rent for a while or all of the above, but our last move has changed my perspective. We had to super downsize, which at first seemed fairly hard. There’s a lot of emotion involved in getting rid of most of your things. But the longer I live without my stuff, the more I want to ditch. The simplicity or lightness associated with being surrounded by no more than a few key things is revealing an interesting freedom.

Now I realize these are the necessary items for a happy home life (besides special people of course) — a comfortable couch, a solid kitchen table, and an awesome bed. Really, what else do we need? I’m not talking about dishes or lamps, or even a TV. Those things are accessories to the most important items at hand.

couchsoft-bedNothing feels better than stretching out or curling up on a completely comfortable couch. The kind that fits perfectly to our body, so we sit down and don’t want to get up. Whether we are reading, watching TV, napping or anything else we do on a couch, that wonderful feeling of sighing “ahhh” is the only key. Same with our bed – it should feel like the safest place on earth. The warmest when we are cold, the softest when we snooze, like wearing our most comfortable pair of shoes. A kitchen table is multi-functional, we can do anything there – eat, work, iron, create, whatever we may need.

distressed-table

Sure it’s about aesthetics as much as comfort too, furniture makes a statement about all kinds of things. Who we are, what we like, our personality flare, what we value…like art it’s intrinsically in the eyes of the beholder. It’s a matter of what we want around us, what we feel matters most.

Furniture has lost some of its pertinence to me. But fresh paint I can’t do without.

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Toxic People Feel A Lot Like Getting A Nasty Flu

flu-seasonHere we are at flu season again, when all of those toxic germs decide to invade. It comes on strong some years, jumping in before we’ve even gotten our flu shot. This happened to both a friend and my son – the flu virus before fall rolls around sounds pretty toxic to me.

I am quite familiar with toxicity. Not just from years of my own health’s invasions, but from being around emotional toxicity too. That’s the worst form because it can latch on and never quit. Not like a sickness that eventually goes away, emotionally toxicity when it’s in our airspace can cause some serious harm.

toxic

Nobody can really identify what causes a toxic personality – whether it’s short lived from some temporary circumstance or if it’s truly inborn – but it’s identifiable and real because it’s something when we’re around it we feel. It’s as draining and debilitating as a virus or the flu. And like that, everybody encounters it at some point in their lives.

its-about-themSir Husband and I were recently exposed to an invasion of emotional toxicity from someone, and for years during each interaction with her we got sucked into a dark place.

That feeling of being pulled into a pit that makes us feel sick, that’s what is referred to as toxic. We don’t need a Merriam-Webster definition, what defines toxic is strictly personal. We know it when we feel it, like getting an unwelcome shot.

It doesn’t matter the reasons or the rationale, realistically dealing with a toxic personality is hard, ugly, it’s stressful and it hurts. But how do we get away from it when an unhealthy entanglement runs deep? It’s not so easy to do. Or is it?

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We go through life with our belief system of what is or isn’t right, what should or shouldn’t be, we feel good or bad based on our situations, we work to balance our external world with our internal one – it’s a ongoing process at best. But when someone tries to manipulate or force their beliefs on us, or tries to make us be someone we’re not, demand we comply with them, judge us for being ourselves, and our lives conflict to the point we feel sick, something has to change.

When they won’t shift their perception – and usually they won’t – we have to. I might add that to them it’s us who won’t shift ours, and that’s perfectly fine. So how do we deal with people who feel toxic? We change the way we think.

We can’t reverse time or the relationships we’ve had, but we can change the story that reels through our head about whatever doesn’t feel right. We don’t have to keep reading old pages and chapters that don’t feel good, instead we can close the book. They may keep the old story going, but we don’t have to engage.

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When it comes to people in our lives, it’s up to us how we proceed, and when necessary, even opt out. There is no antidote, no shot, no medicine that will remove someone who feels emotionally toxic to us, we have to do it ourselves. We always choose to fight the flu, but toxic people? That’s up to you.

 

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Hey Rich People, There’s More To Life Than Money

I’ve come to accept I will probably not drive a Porsche, or travel the world, or even at this point retire. My bucket list now includes things that may not sound like a bucket list:  genuine happiness. Perfect health. Joyful times. And although a tropical sunset sounds great, I’d really love true inner peace.

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But I don’t know if I’m on the right track when it seems so many people just revolve around money.

I’ve written about my status before – poor little rich girl who has traveled a rocky financial road. After the ups and downs of first having a lot then unexpectedly losing it later, we work hard and hope each month we are able to make ends meet. But here’s where that reality has changed my thinking.

I’m not sure money really does buy happiness. That’s not to say I don’t wrestle with the discomfort of paying the bills. But I’ve listened to friends who never worry about cash, and it’s actually not too pretty. Prestige is always on their minds, status, image – they base their self-value on that. Their worlds revolve around the size of their house or what kind of car they drive.

focus-on-the-goodI know someone who recently paid cash for her custom-designed European car, then had it shipped overseas and delivered right to her door. This luxury mobile cost more than a small house but she yells at her family for using too much toilet paper. (Because toilet paper is expensive you know.) Doesn’t sound like she’s too happy to me, even with that big, fancy car.

Or a father I know complains about his son’s college roommate’s family’s wealth, because he worries his son feels bad. The catch to this complaint is that he makes so much money himself he even has his own plane. But it’s allegedly less than his son’s roommate, so I guess he’s feeling poor.

We just watched a documentary about a father in India who sells chocolate bars on a train to feed his family. But it’s 100 degrees there so his chocolates melted and travelers didn’t buy them. It took him two years to save for a cooler to store his chocolates. A cooler. Something we all have in our basement or garage, or can afford to go out and buy. I wanted to send some coolers to India because guess what, I can.

wealth-is-a-mindsetI got a chain email the other day that said to spend all your money while you are alive so your children and grandchildren don’t inherit it and spend it for you. I found it offensive because I would be thrilled if I had money to leave for my kids and would give them both the shirt off my back, as well as my last dime.

So my status quo has nothing to do with a bank account. I am grateful for my place in life, whatever that place may be. I give to the homeless frequently because I have a home. I went for years without a car so my son could have mine for work. I use as much toilet paper as I need and am beyond happy about that. I am able to buy food and also keep it cold.

Gratitude is my wealth, because money is never free.

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Being Extreme Can Feel Uncomfortable Until We Balance Out

bathroom-wisdomDon’t you hate when you are hanging out with your husband, having a glass of wine and relaxing because your kid is on a sleepover and you finally get some alone time…then you get a text from your kid that he hasn’t pooped in seven days and now he’s suddenly freaking out?

Don’t be grossed out, everybody poops. And sometimes of course, they don’t. He has been on a ketosis diet, an all-protein plan for several weeks now, without my confident support. It’s not that I didn’t think he could do it – it’s that cutting out all carbs and only eating protein seems a bit extreme and potentially unsafe. Not to mention he didn’t tell me his dilemma before he was emergency room bound.

teaSo I told him to immediately drink some warm laxative tea. I’m not into chemical anything – food, beverages, medicine, toiletries – I prefer the more natural stuff. But I’m not a barefoot hippie either, I think there’s a middle ground. Eventually we had to level up with a chemical brand so the poor kid could go. But the whole thing reminded me that extremity is not the best idea.

I can speak to this, because around his same age I was pretty extreme too. I tried so many radical diets I ended up with a whopping case of bulimia that changed extrememy digestive tract forever. It took years for my body to readjust, and it’s still not right, so I take extreme things pretty seriously. Of course he thinks he’s smarter than I, and that may very well be the case. He’s not alone, we all try extreme things, that’s just a part of life.

All-nighters, speed driving, alcohol binging, crazy exercise, shopping sprees, the list goes on and on. We even do extreme things that are “healthy,” like high mileage marathon running or that hot/cold plunge technique where we go from a sauna to an icy cold shower. Liquid cleanses…colonoscopy preps…how can these be good?

What do we really get out of extreming it besides some hard-earned lessons? Isn’t life supposed to be about balance and walking a neutral fine line? This goes for emotions too – extreme anger, extreme fear, I suppose even extreme happiness can’t be all that good. What happens to our body’s cellular state when we are swinging on the edge? What happens to our mind? It’s connected too.

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My kid has lost weight on this un-balanced diet, but he has also thrown off his colon and even his emotions a bit. He’s fairly irritable and jumpy – of course – he needs a few healthy carbs.

When we spend too much time focused on one particular way of doing things, one concept or idea, one path – even when it’s good it might lead to something bad. Sure we can redirect our course, but some damage may already be done.

Although my son’s situation resolved, he’s back on his all-protein kick. At this point there’s not much I can do except stay neutral while he figures it out. Sometimes it takes something extreme to see that we’re being extreme, like a belly of piled up poop. Life has a way of showing us how to find our balance too.

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