Monday was hard. And I didn’t handle it well. Which is par for my course.
But what is also par for my course? Every time I fall flat on my face, I pick myself up, examine WHY, and move onward and upward. Every. Single. Time.
Tuesday. Tuesday involved so much self-care, (which really is a product and a producer of self-love) that I can hardly stand myself.
There was walking, yoga, reading, writing, communicating, connecting, and, there. was. cooking.
There’s a story here. Isn’t there always? I was raised a devout Mormon. (seriously, click the link, it’s pretty informative). Devout. I was one of six children, and my mother did not work outside of the home. I spent 17 years as a stay-at-home mother until my divorce almost 8 years ago. Mormon women tend to define themselves by their devotion to God, family, and all things traditional and domestic. (NOTE, I said TEND, I have many amazing female Mormon friends who do not fit this paradigm).
I was my high school salutatorian, attended college on a full scholarship, obtained my master’s at age 40, while working fulltime and raising two teen age children, and am ALMOST done with a very rigorous 2-year post grad program to become a certified academic language and dyslexia therapist. I consider myself to be somewhat of a forward and feminist thinker.
All that being said, one does not spend 35+ years as a devout Mormon woman and not pick up some skills in the kitchen. I can cook. I can bake. I can hang with the best.
AND. I. HATE. IT.
- I hate doing anything just because that is what my GENDER is SUPPOSED to do.
- I hate spending time and effort on something that is gone 20 minutes later. (or less, depending upon how fast I inhale my food)
- I hate doing anything that feels forced upon me. (do we see a pattern here??)
- I hate cooking for just myself. It’s more fun to share.
So, imagine my surprise, when yesterday, I researched recipes, used the Real Plans meal planning site and app (which is phenomenal) , picked up some supplies, and came up with THESE:
I came home at noon from yoga and grocery shopping, and I was hungry. I discovered something.
HUNGER IS NOT AN EMERGENCY.
RATHER than inhale some nuts, fruit, and almond butter. I chose to drink some water, brew some tea, put on some tunes, and prepare a pretty damn awesome meal. There were greens! There was organic happy chicken. There were seasonings and spices. There was laughter, music, and dancing. (yes, I tend to bust a move. A LOT) AND THEN, I proceeded to sit at the table, and consume this amazing meal with relative mindfulness. Whoa. Holy fuck. This was somewhat mind blowing.
I have always had a difficult time feeling Worthy. Enough. Deserving. (well, I deserved abuse and pain, but nothing good, so there’s that). And taking the time, putting forth the effort, spending a bit of money, for beautiful, nourishing, and delicious food, and actually ENJOYING the experience of consuming it? It was exciting and new. Like the Love Boat, but better. And it felt good.
So, I did it again at dinner.
Then, I ate an RX bar, a Lara Bar, and a bunch of dates with almond butter.
Giggle and Sigh, I’m SUCH a work in progress.
Eat your greens. Bathe your cells in antioxidants. Eat your happy protein. Eat some fat. Put the best the world has to offer into your body, mind, and soul. Nourish yourself in every possible way, so you can turn around and nourish the world.
Light and Love,