First Ourselves

How to Stop Procrastinating: Try the Ten Minute Rule

Do you have a should list? A list of things that you'd like to do, you intend to do, but aren't doing?

Here's a should list that speaks to many women:  I should exercise. I should eat breakfast. I should stop drinking so much Diet Coke. I should get more sleep. I should meditate. I should tackle the garage/the hall closet/the kid's outgrown toys/the laundry that I've been putting off for days/weeks/months.

Okay:  You're frustrated by your inability to act on your desires. So why aren't you doing these things? (I'm assuming that they are something you truly want to do, and not something you are doing out of obligation, that you think you have to do.)

We could spend months on this question, but here's something that I've noticed at play in my own life:  I  create mental barriers to my success. My mind creates mental obstacles so steep that I fatigue myself before I've even had a chance to act. Here's an example:  We're in the throes of winter, the darkest month of the year. When the wind is howling, and the sun is barely up, the last thing I want to do is put on my running clothes and go outside. My monkey mind starts going crazy, complaining, bitching, griping, moaning and groaning, feeding my lethargy with self-doubt:  "It's cold. Listen to the wind! You don't want to go out in that, do you? It's okay if you skip your exercise today." This goes on and on until I finally cave in, and trade my running pants for jeans.

But what if I gave myself 10 minutes? What if I quieted my mind with a bargain:  I'll try running for ten minutes, and if I'm still miserable, I'll turn back. 99.9% of the time, after ten minutes, I'm warm, feeling good, and ready to run for another thirty. Then, when I get back home, sweaty and spent, my positive mood transforms my entire day.

How can you apply the 10 minute rule to your own life?

The next time you feel like you'll die without a Diet Coke/chocolate cake/a new pair of shoes/having the last word, pause. Give yourself 10 minutes, and see if you're still craving.

If you feel like meditation or prayer is too hard, just try it for ten minutes.

If you're feeling afraid---let's say you want to take a class, make a new friend, or learn a new skill---try it for ten minutes, and see if the fear ebbs. 

If you feel pulled to buy something you don't need/can't afford, take a ten minute break. Do you still want to buy it?

If you feel like running away from home, are fed up with your family, or you're in the pit of despair, breathe through your feelings, and then see how you feel in ten minutes. Emotions are like waves, and they come and go. How might you feel in ten minutes?

When we're uncomfortable, anxious, restless, or stuck, it's all we can do to sit with our feelings. We want to make them go away, which is why we have so many crutches; so many mindless escapes. But if we can hold the course for ten minutes, the discomfort gives way, the anxiety ebbs, and we relax, recognizing that our mind was making a problem out of something that never was a problem to begin with.

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Want to read more on this topic? Check out this article at the Executive Assistant, a personal and professional development blog, about doing, versus thinking about doing something.

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Give Yourself Comfort

"Some of us learn early in our lives to sit with a geat deal of discomfort...and now we just do it 'naturally.'"
-Eleanor Wiley, There Are No Mistakes

Fall, for me, is a time of contemplation, of slowing down; a transition from the outdoor, carefree play of summer, to the still quiet of winter. My internal musings, and external behaviors, mirror the seasons. At this time of year, my silk nighties give way to flannel pajamas; raw salads to warm soups; long walks to long books. I feel a tremendous nesting urge, a desire to curl up in front of a fire with a cup of tea, a blanket, and a Netflix pick.

I am like a bear, readying its cave for winter. While I can stand the heat of summer, and even relish in its sticky warmth, the cold of winter makes me crave even more comfort than usual. In fall and winter, I will go out of my way to add comfort to my life; I turn up the heat, take long, hot showers, and splurge on cashmere and wool.

One of the nicest things I can do for myself is to use my money, my time, and my talents to add comfort to my life. (This is also one of the nicest things I can do for others.) A cuddly throw on the sofa, a thick historical novel, Smartwool socks:  these small comforts add tremendous joy and ease to my life.

A life without comfort is possible, and there are times when discomfort is beneficial. I don't have to be comfortable all of the time, in every season. In fact, I regularly push myself out of my comfort zone, whether it's running a tough speed workout, or making a difficult phone call. But, just as there is a time to tackle a challenge, and to be uncomfortable, there is also a time to slow down, take it easy, and give yourself exactly what you need.

Sometimes, I need to be challenged. If I'm heeding my intuition, I'll give myself one. But sometimes, I need rest, comfort and ease. If I'm heeding my intuition, I'll offer myself that gift, too.

How Do You Deny Your Good?

I'm nearing the end of my 30 day experiment, where I'm using 30 days of positive thinking to transform my thoughts about myself. This experiment, while initially intended to uproot any remaining negativity about my body image, has turned out to be an exploration of how I think about myself, and my life, in general.

One interesting observation that I've uncovered is how often I deny my good. There are many ways of denying our good, but a biggy for me is being unwilling to ask others for help. Often, my fear stems from a desire to appear strong and independent; because being in need implies vulnerability, loss, or lack.

In her book There Are No Mistakes, Eleanor Wiley writes about the importance of vulnerability. One of the dangers of acting as if we have it all together is that we disallow others to help us when we're hurting. It's like the line in the classic song, "Lean on Me:"  no one can fill those of your needs/that you won't let show.

For much of my life, it was very difficult for me to be vulnerable, or to ask for help when I needed it. Asking for help made me feel weak, and also afraid:  What if I ask for help and someone says no? What if I ask for something inappropriate and I look like a social misfit? What if I look, well, needy?

I had this sense that something was wrong with me, that I had all of these huge, insatiable needs that could never be filled. If I asked for help in meeting them, others would reject me for the very neediness I sought to remedy. I felt that I, and my needs, were just too much.

This, my friends, is another version of the lie that I am not okay, just as I am; that there is something about me that is inherently flawed or unacceptable. The key is it is a lie.

I think of all of the ways God was trying to help me, through the munifence and generosity of other people, and yet, because of these fears and deepseated feelings of unworthiness, I was unable to accept these gifts. I speak not just about material assistance; even more importantly, I rejected offers of friendship, encouragement, and kindness---even something as simple as a compliment. ("This old thing? I got it at the thrift store.")

When I stopped and tracked the many ways I denied my good, it was staggering. But illuminating, too. Now that I'm aware of this little mind trick, I can spot it, and render it powerless with the power of mindfulness. The next time I catch myself refusing a compliment, I can pause, take a deep breath, and say, "Thank you." Or, when someone offers to pick up my children for me, I can say, "That would be great," instead of trying to run away from that feeling of dependence that makes me squirm and counter with, "Oh, you don't have to."

How do you deny your good? As an experiment, keep track of the times you reject offers of assistance or don't ask for help when you need it. Here are more examples from my life:

1. Instead of asking another mom to help me with school pick up, I wake my sleeping toddler to do it myself.
2. I minimize a talent/skill/something that comes naturally to me.
3. When someone compliments me, I try to minimize it, discount it, or deny it. (I can't tell you how many women I know, who, when you say how beautiful they look, will literally reply with, "No.")
4. I carry my own groceries when the clerk offers to carry them out for me.
5. I don't delegate to an assistant or employee.
6. If someone offers to help me, I don't feel right about it until I have an opportunity to return the favor and help them.
7. I spend my birthday money on my children instead of using it for my own enjoyment.

One thing that has helped me change my beliefs about accepting help is to use affirmations that support my new way of thinking. Here are some that have helped me:

It feels good to have others help me.
I am an excellent receiver.
I am worthy of help.
I am willing to have people help me.
I am available to my good.

Everyone has needs. We all need help from one another. Learning how to give, and receive, help is one of the reasons why we're here. Are you grateful for your opportunities to practice this essential art?

How to Be Honest and Reduce Your Commitments

David Allen, productivity and organization expert extraordinaire, has a fantastic way of explaining why modern workers and mothers (who are managers of the home and family) feel stressed, overwhelmed, and as if their work is never done. He calls them open loops. An open loop is anything that hasn't been completed or that still awaits further action. And modern life is overflowing with them.

An open loop can be as simple as remembering to forward an email address onto a friend or as complex as planning a vacation. The challenge, in today's information age, is that we're constantly being bombarded with open loops:  your children's backpack can create four or five open loops in itself, with a note about school pictures, another about a fundraiser, a homework assisgnment, or a form that needs signed. Your email inbox and your voicemail dump more open loops into your lap. A child needs a new coat; the washing machine is on its last legs; a window needs caulked. These are open loops, too. This is on top of the continual tide of housework:  the cooking, cleaning, shopping, and laundry that is, literally, never done.

David Allen's system is fantastic for organizing and completing open loops and the multitude of tasks that accompany family, home, and work. His system eliminates that stressful feeling that you're forgetting something important.

But aside from organizing your open loops so that you feel like you have a handle on what needs done, when, I think it's also important to think about how we create open loops and cause ourselves stress:  the open loops we create when we promise to do things we don't intend on doing.

I read this today on DailyOM: "When we make a promise, a subtle yet powerful shift takes place in our souls where intentions are housed. A vow is both a tool we employ in order to facilitate transformation within ourselves and an expression of will. Thus, to make an oath is to communicate to the universe and our deeper selves our commitment to the principles most important to us."

Vows aren't just for weddings or contracts. I make a vow when I say I'll call someone, agree to a dinner, or commit to a project. This creates an open loop:  and until that loop is closed, it will create stress every time I think about it. The problem is that I often make these vows without the intention of keeping them. I'm lying, even if I'm lying out of politeness, to look good and amenable, or to protect someone's feelings. I'm following the direction of my social self, as Martha Beck calls it in her book Finding Your Own North Star:  the part of me that wants to be polite, kind, and keep people happy (by liking me, of course.) But if my essential self---my true self---doesn't want to do these things, it will raise holy hell, either internally, by making me feel resentful and irritable, or externally, by making me sick or unavailable, if I'm forced to own up to my agreement.

This creates a conflict:  either I heed my essential self, decline, and look unreliable, or I follow my social self, follow through on the task I committed to, while feeling resentful and angry at myself for agreeing to do it in the first place. With both choices, my integrity suffers. My integrity suffers when my promises turn hollow, and I don't do what I agreed to do, and my integrity also suffers when I ignore my internal guidance to say, "No."

There's a way out of this conundrum. The problem is that it's very difficult for me to implement:  honesty. What if, instead of agreeing to something I really don't wish to follow through on, I said, "No?" My social self is quivering. It wants to be liked---by everybody. It's greatest fear is having someone dislike me or think I'm an unkind person.

But I appease my social self at a high personal cost:  my integrity, and the strength that comes from aligning my behavior with my essential self. What if, instead, I endured the temporary discomfort of someone else's displeasure? Gary King, a lecturer who speaks about "The Power of Truth," has this to say:  "If you speak the truth, feelings may get hurt. That is okay---humans are not weak. You do people no favors by trying to protect them from the truth. If you honor the people around you, be honest with them." Gary encourages people to undergo a 24 hour honesty challenge:  where you tell the truth to everyone, including yourself, for 24 hours.

I'll admit:  this sounds impossible. The, "Yes, buts," are going ballistic in my mind:  Yes, but what about family? Isn't it kinder to protect someone's feelings than to hurt them with the truth? What about my children? What about my friends?

I suppose the only way I'll be able to answer my, "Yes, buts," is by experiencing them. And I have to think that it's better than saying "Yes" when I don't mean it. Others can sense my hesitation, and know when I'm insincere. I'm probably fooling no one. I'm up for the honesty challenge. Are you?

Be On Time

Are you always five or ten minutes late, while intending to be on time?  Do you love crossing off tasks from lists? Do you thrive on a busy schedule? If this describes you, then, according to an article in Reader's Digest, you're a producer.

What's a producer? Someone who is trying to do too much. To a producer, a day is an opportunity to tackle a to-do list. If you're a producer, and you have an extra five minutes before heading out the door to an appointment, what do you do? You squeeze in a load of laundry.

Being a producer isn't "bad," in itself. But it can make you late and frazzled. Producers create problems when they squeeze tasks into every available minute, because they don't leave in any margin for error. Stuff happens, and you're late:  If the laundry takes more than five minutes, or if the baby needs a diaper change before heading out the door, you won't make it to the dentist's office on time.

The sources of overproduction
I think many women underestimate just how much they do in an average day. In Finding the Deep River Within, author Abby Sexias, feeling frustrated one night before bed, wrote down everything she had accomplished that day. Her list amazed her:  She thought she hadn't done much of anything; her list said otherwise.

Modern life is full of conveniences:  microwaves, dishwashers, computers, cell phones, and drive-throughs. But conveniences aren't time savers as much as they are time allowers:  they enable us to get more done. We don't collect the time we save from a dishwasher---we use it to clean the kitchen, or call a friend, in addition to washing the dishes. No wonder women are exhausted.

If you're like me, being late feels yucky. It creates stress, from the urgency in trying to be on time when you're behind; it stirs up anxiety and overwhelment from rushing; it leads to guilt from letting others down.   

So what's the solution?

1. Appreciate all that you are doing. Make your list:  What did you do today? Does your list amaze you? Is your list mammoth in size, and scope?
2. Recognize how much time it really takes to accomplish something. Part of the reason you squeeze in little tasks throughout the day is that you underestimate how long it takes to do something. Does cleaning up the kitchen after dinner take ten minutes, or thirty? How about a trip to the post office? It may take five minutes if it's empty, but twenty when there's a line. With this knowledge, you can more accurately plan what is possible in any given 24 hours.
3. Factor in transitions. It takes me ten minutes to get all of my children out the door to run an errand; fifteen in the winter with coats, boots and cold weather gear. However, I wasn't factoring in that time into my day; so I was always late. We transition between tasks, and that takes both time and energy. Give yourself mental and physical space to do so, and your day will flow in a gentler rhythm.
4. Give yourself margin. Allow time for error, and accept the inevitability of delays. If you give yourself extra time for trains, potty trips, and bad weather, then you won't be rushed. Likewise, if you leave open windows of time between tasks, you'll have a break; your day won't seem like an endless errand or chore list.
   
5. Recognize the value in being early. Think of how nice it feels to arrive somewhere unrushed, unhurried, and with ten minutes to spare.
6. Mollify your inner producer. If you dislike the idea of "wasting time" because you're early, bring something with you:  a book, thank you notes, or your checking account statement, so you can reassure your inner producer that you can use those extra ten minutes to your advantage, if you really, really want to. Chances are, you may enjoy your downtime, and use it for relaxing or reading a magazine, instead.

Life is busy; we have full lives. Manage yours with a "mind like water," as productivity guru David Allen says, and you'll feel pleasurably, not stressfully, full.

My Rules for Happiness

One of my favorite blogs is the Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin's quest for the whys of happiness. It got me thinking:  what are my rules for happiness?

Happiness implies joy. It implies comfort, and satisfaction. It implies a framework of self care:  a foundation that enables you to soar to the lofty heights of joy and bliss. How do you create this framework?  Here's my answer:  care for yourself as well as you care for your children.   

How do you treat your kids? That's how you should treat yourself. And if you're not treating yourself with the same compassion, kindness, and consideration, that's a red flag that you need to endow your habits with greater grace and respect.

Are you dubious? Think of all the nutty things you've done to yourself that were really punishments in disguise:  forcing yourself to wear too small clothing when you'd gone up a size; not buying yourself clothing until you lost weight or reached some other milestone; restricting your diet to a few chosen foods; skipping meals; omitting your wants from the family budget; offering to do a chore or errand that you detest; skimping on sleep, rest and other basic care. Would you treat your child that way? No.

So how do you treat your children? Here's how I treat mine. Likewise, here's how I treat myself: 

1. When you're hungry, get a snack. This makes me think of a quip by Christiane Northrup:  "You will achieve enlightenment much faster with stable blood sugar."
2. Eat vegetables. We need healthy food to feel our best. We don't feed our children junk all day long; why do we do that to ourselves? That being said....
3. Leave room for dessert. There's a time to celebrate and enjoy a treat.
4. Rest when you're tired. When our toddlers are cranky, we put them down for a nap. When they're worn out at the end of a day, we tuck them into bed. Simple, but it works wonders for a calm disposition.
5. Play. When's the last time you did something just for fun?
6. Take a recess when you need a break. Why do we expect adults to work for eight, nine, or ten hours straight (with lunch usually eaten at a desk) without a break? Why do we spend so much of our lives inside, away from the glory of the outdoors? I know that when I'm inside out, and my kids are cranky and picking on each other, a twenty minute romp outside will dissipate said foul mood rather quickly.
7. When you're feeling frustrated, take a time out. When we're at our wits end, some physical (and mental) distance can be a great help. We all need solitude and time alone.
8. Use your words when you want something. Learning how to tell people what we like---and what we dislike---is a valuable tool. Who said that if someone really loves us, they'll know what we want? Not in this world:  we have to let them know.
9. Say you're sorry when you've hurt someone. Perfection doesn't occur on this planet. We forgive ourselves, as we forgive others. We forgive others, as we forgive ourselves.
10. It's only spilled milk. Most mistakes are not the end of the world; for your children, or yourself.
11. You don't have to go to every party. An invitation is not an obligation. I am careful to plan for leisure time for my children, which means picking and choosing activities---even parties and "fun" things. Too much activity and too little rest makes for a cranky child, and a cranky adult, too.
12. Daydream. Hope, dream, and dawdle; are lives are not just about productivity.
13. Support yourself during transitions. My children's worst moments come during transitions---when we're transitioning between one place and another (school and home, for example), or when we're navigating an internal transition (a growth spurt, a change in routine, or a change in seasons.) I am no different. This is the time for extra kindness and compassion, towards yourself, and others.
14. Feel your emotions. When my children are mad, I let them be mad. When they're sad, I let them be sad. How often do I offer myself the same consideration? Hmmm.....
15. Follow your own path. This is a doozy for me. I've lived by others' rules, expectations and guidelines for years, even if those rules were only in my head. The first time I heard the idea that I could have what I want, that life doesn't have to be drudgery, I found it heretical. How many of us dare to believe that how we really, really want to live and what we really, really want to do is possible? By contrast, how many of us brush aside our greatest hopes and dreams with a flippant, "Not in this lifetime?" The greatest gift I can give my children is the belief that their dreams and hopes are both valid and attainable. But that is also the greatest gift I can give myself:  permission to follow the beat of my own internal drummer, as far fetched and high reaching as it may be. Dear reader, that is also the greatest gift you can give yourself.

Day One: Learning How to Honor My Needs

I began my 30 days to breakthrough experiment yesterday, where I'm transforming my thoughts about my body by spending 30 days meditating on 30 things I appreciate about myself.

My first day was a doozy:  I find it hilarious that yesterday's meditation was appreciating how I honor my needs. The universe, in its perfect timing, gave me a day full of experiences where it showed me the many ways I don't honor my needs. I won't give you my entire sob story, but let's just say that my day was filled with those tough choices mothers often face:  Do I do want honors me, and my needs, or do I make the choice that honors my child's, or my husband's needs? And is there a way to honor both?

It took me all day to arrive at a point where I found a way to honor both. I even treated myself to an early bedtime, something that I desperately needed, even though it meant saying no to my son's request for a back scratch.

It got me thinking about how often I say yes to my children's requests, when it means sacrificing myself in the process. Yes, I know that this is part of the deal of being a Mom:  we give of ourselves from the moment of conception. And yet, there is only so much I can do, or any Mom can do, as a mother.

I have to accept that as a parent, I can't meet all of my children's needs. Likewise, I also have to accept that my children may not like this, especially because as babies and small children, I do meet most of their needs. Just as I, as a parent, have to embrace my children's growing independence, they do, too. And that process can make them sad, frustrated, angry, or upset. I have to be willing to bear the discomfort of their emotions, and of mine, too:  because it's not comfortable for me, either:  I want to run in and fix it and make it all better.

Yesterday, I realized that this is the hidden motivation behind my superMom tendencies. My inability to say "No," to my children's demands on my time doesn't stem so much from guilt as from misguided love:  I wanted to protect my children from the hurt that comes from knowing that our loved ones can't always be there for us----even Mom.

I had never thought of it that way.

So maybe I do honor my needs, after all. Maybe I honor my needs by recognizing that the true limits I'm running into aren't limits on what I can or can't accomplish in a day, or about trying to squeeze in another item onto my to do list. The true limits I'm facing are those of my humanity; they come from living in a world populated with billions of other well meaning, but imperfect human beings, just like myself. I can't be everything for my children. I won't always be there. I won't be able to give them everything they need.

And yet they will be okay, as I am okay.

I thought this experiment was going to be about loving my body. But, really, like anything, it's about so much more.

Putting the Law of Attraction in Action: The Thirty Days to Breakthrough Experiment

I've been reading Excuse Me, Your Life is Waiting by the late Lynn Grabhorn, a book about using your feelings and the law of attraction to manifest your desires. The law of attraction is everywhere:  the movie and book the Secret brought the idea into the mainstream; Oprah had a show about it; Esther and Jerry Hicks have been teaching its principles for years; and a slew of life coaches and authors are all saying the same thing:  you co-create your life with your thoughts, emotions, and beliefs. 

You can apply these ideas to any arena of your life. I've been applying them to my quest to love my body, and have found much success:  I feel better about my body than I have in years. And yet, I still feel the ghosts of those lies that try and convince me that I'm not lovable and acceptable unless I have a perfect body.

I've got a plan to flush them out, and I'm really excited about it. Here it is:

In Lynn's book, she offers her 30 days to breakthrough plan to help you transform your habitual negative thinking.

My plan is to use myself as a human guinea pig, and follow Lynn's plan. For the next 30 days, I will follow her suggestions to break through the remaining vestiges of negativity that I feel about my body. Coincidentally, my experiment will end on October 18, Love Your Body Day:  quite fitting. I'll post regularly on how I'm doing, the changes I experience, how I feel, and what transformations I notice. I'd love for you to join me and share your experiences, as well.

Here are the rules of the experiment:

1. Remove your attention/focus/thoughts from any big issue or problem that is causing you painful, stressful feelings, such as stress, worry, anxiety, anger, fear, hatred, or disgust. Now, this doesn't mean removing your attention from every negative issue; it simply means to remove the biggies:  the boulders in your path. For my experiment, I'm going to focus on my thoughts about my body.

2. Have a new, "flip-switch" topic for each of the 30 days as something to meditate on and switch to when those negative feelings arise. But there's a catch:  not just any topic will do. While being grateful for your children, a sunny day, or a great deal on a pair of boots is all well and good, for the sake of the experiment, your flip switch must be something you appreciate about yourself.

That's it. Sounds easy, doesn't it? Join me, email your friends, pass it along to your co-workers, digg it, spread the word, and let's transform our thinking together. 

You Can Change Your Mind and Ask For What You Want

For weeks, my family and I had planned an outing to an outdoor performance of a Shakespeare play. I looked forward to it with great anticipation, and even talked to a girlfriend about meeting up with her family there. But the day of the play, I was worn to a raveling. Even though I normally love being with people, I craved an evening of quiet, free from social interaction.

So I changed my mind. My family went to the play without me, while I stayed home with my baby, puttering around the house and recharging:  bliss.

Now, yes, I could've forced myself to go to the play. And once I was there, I probably would've had a good time. But I would've missed an opportunity:  an opportunity to stand up for myself and put my needs first.

The next day, I felt refreshed; strong enough to venture into the world, once again. This feeling was amplified by the well deserved pride I felt in taking excellent care of myself the preceding evening. I had surrendered to my spirit, and its inner prompting for rest, instead of following my will, with its demands that I stick with my plans.

What a freeing thing:  to know that I can change my mind. For most of my life, I forced myself to do things I didn't want to do while I suffered in silence, seething. When I made a plan, I stuck to it, unless I was sick, ill, or incapacitated. Sometimes, I even unconsciously caused myself to become sick so that I would have a reason to bow out.

We are a funny lot, we human beings. One of my teachers, my wise friend Jeannie, talks about how people will do anything---even cut off their own legs---to keep from changing their minds. It's one of the consequences of living in a dense, physical world:  we see things as fixed, rigid, and inflexible.

Here are some of the reasons that make me feel like I can't change my mind:
I'll look like a bad mother/wife/friend.
I have to.
They won't have anyone else to help.
People will think I'm flaky or unreliable if I back out.
It's tradition.
They may get angry at me.
I should stick with a decision.

When I look at the lot of them, together, I realize the ridiculousness of these rules. They are either a.) Untrue (How do I know they'll be angry?) b.) Out of my control (I can't and shouldn't feel responsible for another person's feelings) or c.)  Based on someone else's expectations. (What a proper wife/friend/daughter is to them.)

I now also understand why I'd rather be ill and miss something fun than be healthy and admit that I don't want to do something:  it's more socially accepted. Illness or another "legitimate" excuse takes the pressure of me; I can still look "good" in someone else's eyes. But saying "No," for no other reason than I don't want to:  that takes some cajones. It may mean that I won't get asked again. It may mean that someone will reject me, or horrors, not like me. (This is a big deal to a former people pleaser.) It may mean that I'll feel awkward or unkind. It may mean a spot of embarrassment.

But, over the long run, these brief moments of discomfort pale in comparison to the pain that comes from ignoring your inner voice. If you are constantly telling your spirit, "No," when it calls; if your will continually overrides your true desires, if you bully yourself into shoulds and have tos, your spirit will shrivel. A shrivled spirit is one that has lost its voice, and its power. Here's what this looks like: one day, you will wake up and have no clue about who you really are, what you like, or what you want to do with the most precious of gifts, your life.

I was there. And I can say that giving myself permission to change my mind, to say no, to set boundaries, while, yes, initially discomfitting, is infinitely more pleasant. And the more you do it, the easier it gets, until caring for yourself---asking what you want to do in a given situation---becomes your habitual pattern of living.

What a beautiful way to celebrate a life.

Taming Self-Expectations

I am pleased to introduce you to Abby Seixas, licensed mental health counselor, workshop leader, and author of Finding the Deep River Within:  A Woman's Guide to Recovering Balance and Meaning in Everyday Life, one of my favorite books I've read this year.

Do you feel overwhelmed by your life? Do you feel caught up in the treadmill of too much to do, too many expectations to meet, and too little self care? Abby Seixas has answers. Her wise words encourage us to dive into ourselves, into the quiet waters within; to change what can be changed; to surrender what can't, and to balance the line where surrender and acceptance co-exist.

I love her message because it's applicable to all women, to all areas of their lives. Here, Abby shares an excerpt from her book Finding the Deep River Within on taming self expectations:

Although it was probably ten years ago, I still remember vividly an image shared by a woman in a Deep River group whose life was feeling unmanageable. She said she was bothered that her daily life seemed to her like a quilt with random squares missing, especially at the edges. She wanted her life to look like the quilts she made for a hobby: no missing squares, beautifully designed, everything lined up and symmetrical. 

We may not all carry such a clear image of how we want our lives to look, but most of us, whether we’re aware of it or not, are measuring ourselves and our lives according to some picture we have of “how it’s supposed to be.” These idealized images, standards or expectations can be helpful in defining and reaching our goals, gaining skills and mastery in our chosen endeavors, and making choices that match our values. But expectations can also get us into trouble.  When our expectations are too high or are held too tightly, the resulting pressure can make us feel driven, fragmented, and cut off from ourselves and others, not to mention unhappy.   This is not an atmosphere that invites the Deep River to flow into our lives!  Instead, when we have too many expectations of who we should be or what we should do, we chain ourselves to the treadmill of endless striving and doing. By lightening up on demands we put on ourselves, we not only allow for a more flexible, creative approach to life, but we begin to create an inner environment that is more friendly toward balance, depth and ease.

Holding expectations more loosely doesn’t mean giving them up altogether. It means letting go of urgency, rigidity and the need for things to be “just so” when those qualities are not warranted.  This is a key to slowing down and having less stress in our lives.    

The first step in loosening up is becoming aware of tightly-held expectations.  Look for “shoulds” or “have-to’s” that have a sense of life-or-death urgency but actually aren’t matters of life or death. (For example, “I have to clean the oven before the in-laws arrive!!”)  Once you are aware of holding an expectation tightly, try some of the following suggestions for how to lighten up. You can figure out what works for you by trial and error.

• Try humor:  Exaggerate your expectation to the point of absurdity. Make a caricature of yourself. Imagine how you would look or what you would say if you were a character in a cartoon, sitcom, comic strip.
• Try compassion: See your self-expectation from the perspective of a very trusted and loving friend, teacher or family member.  What does this compassionate person say to you?  Try saying it to yourself. Or try seeing your expectation as if it was someone else’s--someone you care about. What would you say to that person? Try saying it to yourself. Or have a compassionate conversation with the part of you that is holding on so tightly.  Lovingly acknowledge it for trying so hard to...be more this, less that, etc.
• Try expanding time: Ask yourself, “Will this matter 10 years from now?”
• Try expanding space: Look, even briefly, at a star-filled night sky, or the vastness of an ocean or prairie or clear blue sky. See if your expectation loosens.
• Try breathing : Feel where and how you are holding this expectation in your body.  Imagine breathing into it, around it. Let your breath make space around the tightness, helping it to soften. Or just take three slow, deep breaths.
• Try coming up with a reminder phrase that you can say to yourself: You might tell yourself, for example, “Don’t sweat the small stuff––and it’s all small stuff.” Or you might say, “Que  sera sera; whatever will be will be.” If you can sing your phrase, all the better!  Or, if you prefer more Buddhist phrasing, try these: “Things are as they are,” or “This is what is.”
• Try telling yourself “I’ll still be a good person if...I don’t get the oven cleaned before the in-laws arrive or “if I go to bed and read instead of cleaning up the kitchen…”
• Have a friend remind you that you’re still a good person even if _____________ (fill in the blank)  when you forget it or doubt it.
• Try asking yourself “Who says?” With a little introspection, you might trace your self-expectation to someone else (Mom? Dad? The religious or other belief system you grew up with?) or simply to one of your own internal voices. Even if you can’t identify the source of your expectation, asking the question provides a pause and the possibility of choice about how and whether to meet that expectation.

How Sometimes You Feel Worse Before You Feel Better

I've been thinking about change and transitions a lot these past few weeks, as children slip back into school, and the long, untethered days of summer give way to the rigor of fall's schedules and routines. On a personal level, I am currently undergoing about ten different transitions, all at the same time. Everything is undergoing a huge change, from my family, to my children, to my working situation, to my own internal growth. To say I feel unmoored is understatement.

After undergoing enough years of changes now, I'm beginning to understand that these feelings are perfectly normal and expected:  that they are the growing pains of evolution.

I think of how my children grow:   how they spend weeks in an oinky phase, where they regress into old behaviors, pick on their siblings, bounce from one emotional extreme to another, and lash out in frustration. They sleep more, eat more, and cry more. And then, seemingly overnight, whammo:  they wake up one day, and they're in an entirely different place, with new emotions and behaviors, added maturity, and an extra three inches.

This is how we grow, too. I'm reminded of childbirth, and how transition was always the stage of labor when I felt like giving up; when I felt like I couldn't go on anymore---at least without a few illegal mind altering substances. But my midwife always reminded me that the moment when you feel like you can't go on:  that's a good thing. It's your body's way of telling you it's almost over; that the end is near.

If you are growing and evolving out of old, outdated behaviors, beliefs, habits, or pain, if you are climbing up the next rung on the ladder, then you may feel worse before you feel better. Growth creates turbulence. It stirs things up. Imagine your journey as a wagon, with the wheels following a well worn path. As those wheels climb out of the wagon ruts, it's going to make for a bumpy ride.

If we're unaware of this, we can get sidetracked when change comes at a slow, painful march. We can mistake turbulence as a sign that we're not changing; that we're going backwards, instead of forwards. But just like fear doesn't mean stop, but go; turbulence is a sign that you're progressing, not regressing.

Here are some things that I notice about myself when I'm growing out of an old stage: I need more time to myself, or insulate myself from too many social outings. I need more sleep. I'm weepier, as if my heart has softened:  everything touches me. I cry more. I am more easily angered. I lash out over little things. I experience powerful negative feelings and emotions that I haven't experienced in months or years---I call this "the last hurrah" before they are (hopefully) surrendered for good. I am especially tender, vulnerable and sensitive to other people's comments or opinions. I want my Mom. I dream vividly. I feel like my heart is walking outside my body, like my body is walking around without skin, like I am watching myself outside of myself. I often feel so scared and terrified by this turmoil that I want to run back to the way things were, just because their familiarity made them comfortable.

But discomfort is a sign of progress. It's a sign to keep going; not to give up.

Transitions are a time to shower ourselves with extra support, compassion, and lovingkindness. Keep asking yourself, "What do I most need right now?" as you go about your days. Maybe you need more sleep. Maybe you need more solitude. Maybe you need more reflective time---time for writing, journaling, creating art, or praying. Give yourself the tools you need to navigate your rocky road; treating yourself kindly is one way of loving yourself.

No matter your goal, whether it be loving your body, nixing a bad habit, finding forgiveness, or climbing out of a depression, if you're feeling turbulent and unmoored, be of good cheer:  it means your end is near.

Just like my children, you're going to wake up one morning and find yourself in a completely different place. And you'll be very glad you did.

Eat Like a Normal Person

Do you want to eat like a “normal” person: to sit down to a satisfying, filling meal that offers pleasure and nourishment? Do you long to exit the diet/binge roller coaster? Do you want to have a healthy relationship with food?

Navigating the literature on nutrition can make the most easygoing woman neurotic. Everyone has their pet theory on how to eat: low carb, low fat, vegan, macrobiotic, raw, whole foods, no laws (eat whatever you want.) It’s bad enough that there are 20 different approaches to diet and nutrition; worse when the experts start contradicting one another.

At some point, you have to lighten up. As a wellness consultant told me, “It’s only food.” We’re not talking about nuclear war here. Yet the foods we eat have a direct bearing on how we feel: our energy, mood, appearance, and body image are all influence by our dietary choices.

I’ve tried many different ways of eating: vegan, vegetarian, low carb, high protein, low sugar, whole foods, and the junk food/eat whatever I want diet. I’ve been bulimic, an undereater, an overeater, and a chronic dieter. From my experiences, I’ve come up with an eating plan that works for me. It’s simple, easy to follow, yet life changing in its application. Here are my five rules for normal eating:

1. I eat when I’m hungry; I stop when I’m full. Being hungry or irritable from low blood sugar feels terrible. Too much food makes me feel bloated, stuffed, and sick. So I eat enough food to give me energy, health, and enjoyment. And the next time I feel hungry I eat again.
2. I eat three meals a day, everyday, including breakfast. When I was overeating, a huge part of   my bingeing stemmed from undereating: I would eat as little as possible during the day (because I was on a perpetual quest to lose ten pounds) only to be starving by dinnertime. Then I would overeat, not because I had poor willpower, but because I was hungry. Eating food at regular intervals makes me feel grounded, stable, and satisfied. (As Christiane Northrup quips:  "You'll achieve enlightenment much faster with stable blood sugar.")
3. I eat foods that make me feel good. I like a steak every now and then. A pizza is a favorite treat. I love colorful salads. Risotto is my idea of heaven. These things make me feel good, so I eat them. Sugar makes me depressed and wacks me out. Fried eggs give me the willies. Too many fake foods—think lots of processing and packaging—make me feel icky. So I usually abstain.
4. I eat what I really want. What I want to eat today may be different tomorrow. What I want in the winter may be different than what I crave in the summer. How nice that I can choose; that I don’t have to eat the same four things from a “good foods” list over and over again. In the summer I eat tons of raw vegetables, but as the weather cools I crave warm, cooked vegetables and hearty soups. A few weeks ago, when my baby was going through a growth spurt (I’m a nursing mother), I had a hankering for nuts and nut butter. I followed my craving, got a spoon, and dove into the almond butter, without any guilt, shame, remorse or thoughts of calories.
5. I enjoy my food. I love food. I always have. And I’ve come to glory in that, rather than feel ashamed by it. Who started the lie, anyway, that women shouldn’t have an appetite? I’ve always had a hearty appetite, especially when I’m running and nursing, as I am now. I have no qualms about getting a second helping, rather than undereating to be socially acceptable.
   

   That’s it. This is how I eat (most of the time, anyway; I still occasionally overeat or eat something gross because I’m too lazy to cook.) The best part about my rules is their flexibility: the foods or quantities of foods that make me feel good now may not work for me at a different time. The foods I prefer may not be ones you like, either. The rules still apply.

   In some ways, following a rigid eating plan would be easier. Freedom is frightening (Will I get fat if I eat carbs? If I can eat whatever I want, will I eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner?) But giving myself choices is what ultimately removed wacky food obsession from my life. Many experts on food addiction, overeating, and eating disorders share my belief that learning how to eat intuitively is what ultimately cures negative beliefs about food. (Click here for a book list.)

   But eating normally is more than freeing yourself from food: it’s adding trust, an inner knowing that you’ll care for your body excellently in your food choices. It’s trusting that if you give yourself permission to have dessert, you’ll still eat vegetables.

   Food obsession is overwhelming, because you face it several times a day, every day; every time you eat, want to eat, or think about eating. Remove this obstacle from your life, and I guarantee you’ll feel your spirit soar. You’ll be free and clear to redirect the energy you devoted to food towards the deeper dreams, goals, and aspirations that abide within.

      

Can You Release Your Sense of Urgency?

"Stress is an ignorant state. It believes that everything is an emergency. Nothing is that important."
-Natalie Goldberg

Do you live like everything is an emergency:  always in a rush, a hurry, or multitasking? Do you turn small problems into big ones? I felt this way last week, with the transition into a back to school schedule. The sudden jolt from the relaxed pace of summer into the school year routine had me running around like a madwoman. I forgot to bring my son's slippers for school; the phone broke for an entire day; I burned two dinners; and I missed a work meeting.

I had that frazzled "I'm not doing anything right" feeling that accompanies overwhelment; when you feel like you've got so much going on that every area of your life is shortchanged.

This feeling is common to modern women.

But we don't have to live this way. 99.9% of the time, we aren't in the midst of an emergency. Much of the time, what we make to be a big deal---our partner arriving late; our children's forgetfulness with chores; five pounds---isn't. When we morph small inconveniences into emergencies, we create stress. When we create impossible standards for ourselves, we create stress, as we strive and rush to maintain them.

Thank goodness there's an alternative.

This is where acceptance, and surrender comes in:  to change what you can change, and let go of what you can't. I think it's common to think about surrendering the big issues:  control over our children's behavior; the weather; or accepting an accident, the death of a loved one, or other life changing circumstance.

But you can surrender the little things, too.

If you're running late, you can surrender your anxiety and hurry:  worrying about being late won't get you where you need to go any sooner, or change your tardiness.

If you're feeling inside out, irritable, depressed, or critical, beating yourself up for feeling bad (and then make yourself feel even worse) won't change the underlying reasons for your feelings.

If your computer or refrigerator breaks, stressing won't get them running again.

If your jeans are tight, you have two choices:  you can relax and find something more comfortable to wear (the jeans are the problem here; not your body), or you can become worried and anxious that you're gaining weight and ruin your whole day.

Stress, or surrender. Which is it going to be?

Be Kind to Yourself

"Treating myself like a precious object will only make me stronger."
-Julia Cameron

A huge part of loving and accepting myself has been learning how to treat myself kindly. Sadly, this form of kindness hasn't always come naturally to me. I harbor an inner taskmaster/critic who drives me in a quest for perfection, to be always on the ball; to act as if I have it all together.

This taskmaster goes haywire when I'm grumpy, emotional, weepy, or self critical. What do you do when you're feeling lousy? Do you treat yourself kindly when you mess up? How do you treat yourself when you're not on your "best behavior?" Do you honor your body when it calls for rest, fun, coddling, or a break?

I spent years depressed and bitter. A huge contributing factor to my unhappiness was meanness:  meanness towards myself. I treated myself with so little compassion and tenderness:  pushing myself past my limits; ignoring my still, small voice; criticizing myself harshly for mistakes. When I changed my habits, and made self care a priority, I found myself again. At first, this manifested in physical, tangible means:  spending money on my wishes, desires, and wants. But at some point self care goes beyond buying a new pair of shoes or getting a massage.

Real self care is about treating yourself as tenderly and compassionately as you would treat a small child. We mistakenly think that growing up means becoming tough, stern, and a taskmaster. It's no wonder we love the confidence and uninhibited freedom of childhood:  your internal critic has yet to surface. If I want to reclaim my unselfconsciousness, if I want to feel that same ease in my skin, then I must abide in kindness, and its cousin, grace.

Yelling at children doesn't cause them to behave...at least, not for the right reasons, and not permanently. Discipline and punishment don't work in the long run, either. Those same tactics fail on ourselves. Yet think of how many times we as women engage in such behavior:   squeezing into too small clothing, or not buying new clothes until we've lost weight. Think of eating too little, eating too much. Think of too much work, not enough rest, not enough play.

We are all such tender creatures. Plato said it best:  "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." Women's strength---our ability to tread through the slings and arrows of life, with our courage intact---is only surpassed by our fragility:  our willingness to open our hearts wide, to love, and loss. It's the blessing, and curse, of being human:  our very vulnerability is also what makes us so powerful.

When you're feeling vulnerable, lost, scared, frustrated, angry, tired, worn out, inside out, instead of pushing yourself forward, or labeling your feelings as "bad," offer yourself the gift of kindness. Quiet your mind, and ask yourself, "What do I most need right now?" And then find a way to meet it.

Do you have a question?

I talk about, and think about, how to help women (and how to help myself!) love and accept themselves:  their bodies; their quirks; their humanness. One of the reasons I read so much is for validation:  to find others who have experienced similar feelings, or who've traveled a similar path. Doesn't it make you feel so much better to know that you're not alone? Don't you feel gratified when you find someone who expressed just what you felt, or what you experienced?

Let's keep the conversation going. Do you have a burning question that you'd like an answer to? Do you want to know if I've experienced what you're going through? Ask away. I'd love to hear from you:  karlyp@firstourselves.com.

I respect all requests for anonymity. And I will never sell your email address. I promise.

How Your Intuition Makes Life Easy

We all have an internal guide, a gentle voice whose sole purpose is to help us navigate our way through the myriad of choices that we face. This guide is our intuition. Our intuition speaks to us through inner prompting, hunches, coincidences, suggestions, or feelings. It can tell us what to do, by offering good feelings, and what not to do, by creating negative feelings, such as joylessness, or resistance.

The universe wants to make your life as joyful and your lessons as easy as possible. It doesn't want your problems to be any more difficult and challenging than necessary. It helps us by giving us direction, a compass.

Heed that wisdom, and life will be easier. Ignore it, and life will be harder.

Trusting and acting upon your intuition is what Sonia Choquette calls "six sensory living." Six sensory living helps you achieve what you want in the quickest, fastest, most expedient way possible.

Have you ever had a hunch to call someone, read a certain book, or attend an event, to later discover that following that hunch resulted in a new friendship, or a solution to a longstanding problem? By contrast, have you ever ignored a hunch---that voice that told you to choose a different housepainter, or to take a different route home---only to find yourself in the middle of an accident induced traffic jam, or spending months hounding your painter to finish your home on time?

We live in a dense physical world. It's easy, when surrounded by tangible, material things, to dismiss the spiritual or ephemeral, something as insubstantive as a hunch. Other people may think you're woo woo if you try and justify your behavior with gut feelings.

Sonia Choquette related a story about how trusting her gut meant backing out of a house purchase at the 9th hour. The house was perfect; it met every criteria on her wish list. And yet her vibes kept insisting that she not buy the house. Her husband thought she was nuts; her real estate agent was annoyed, and yet a year later, that very house that she almost bought? It was completely flooded, underwater.

Heeding your intuition is being kind to yourself:  If I'm feeling resistant to writing, I don't force myself to hash something out. If a certain movie, book, or magazine makes me feel badly, I put it aside or leave the theater. I've left parties because of bad vibes, too.

I know this sounds heretical. I know this sounds rude. I bet Sonia Choquette felt really flaky backing out of a house deal at the last minute. Yet trusting her instincts saved her the future misery of owning a flooded home. Trusting your vibes means being willing to suffer short term scrutiny in exchange for long term integrity:  the integrity that comes from following your own internal compass.

When you follow your own guidance, accept that other people might be angry at you. Accept that others may not understand your choices. They may criticize you:  "Who does she think she is?"

Here's who I think you are:  a woman who knows how to take care of herself, excellently. Honoring your truth over being socially acceptable is self love, in action.

As one of my favorite authors, Victoria Moran wrote, when you honor your internal wisdom, "you may at times appear selfish, ungrateful, antisocial, and like the proverbial stick-in-the-mud. From those also being true to themselves, expect empathy and respect."

Heeding your intuition fosters self love. Trusting your gut is honesty, flipped inside out. It's being honest to yourself; not with yourself. It's giving your intuition the time, care and attention it deserves. Think of children, and how much they want a parent's attention; to be listened to. It's what makes them feel loved and cherished. Your spirit is no different. It feels loved and cherished as it is honored, respected and listened to.

As you listen to your still small voice, your respect for yourself grows, as well. It's love in action. And as your self love grows, your ability to live by your own internal drummer---to say yes to your intuition---grows stronger, too. It becomes a mutually symbiotic circle, that propels you forward, to greater joy, and greater esteem.

Standing up for What You Like

One tangible way you can demonstrate your worthiness is by honoring your likes:  those things that you love; that bring you joy.

What do you like?

If, as I did, you spent years denying your wants and desires, you may not even remember what you like. You may be like Julia Roberts' character in The Runaway Bride, who didn't know how she liked her eggs. She had gone along with what her boyfriend's preferences for so long that she was out of touch with her own.

This scenario is common with women, especially mothers, because many of us were trained from infancy to think more about other people's needs than our own. As one woman said to me this week, "Why do women feel as if they need someone's permission before doing something?"

So true. I've found that men don't suffer from this need for an external authority. My husband just tells me when he's going to play volleyball, or attend an evening event. So do my friend's husbands. Yet, as empowered and as liberated of a woman as I think I am, I still think that I need to ask permission before going out with girlfriends or signing up for a class.

This can stem from our traditional role as caregivers. In our absence, someone else has to watch the children, cook the meals, and clean up the kitchen.

But I think we shortchange our partners, and ourselves, when we remain tied to those traditional expectations. We have so many options today; options that weren't available to our mothers and grandmothers. And yet that ancient voice, the one that says a proper woman puts her needs last, or that a mother isn't entitled to a life of her own, still lingers.

I silence that voice by exercising my power:  the power of choice.

Although my husband chooses some of our date movies, I pick movies that I want to watch, too. I buy itunes songs just for me. I give myself a monthly allowance that I spend on whatever strikes my fancy. There's something empowering about using money for your joy, free from explanations or rationalizations of why you spent it.

I have two daughters, and I'm thrilled when they use their voice and exercise their right to say, "No." When my daughter was asked to help teach a ballet class for younger girls, she gave it some thought, and decided she didn't want to do it. She told her teacher, "Thanks, but I'd rather not."

To me this is remarkable. As a girl, I was the penultimate people pleaser. I would have cared more about my teacher liking me---by my helping her---than my own wish to spend my free time elsewhere.

Bravo, I say. And even when my daughter refused to share her dessert with her grandmother, while she could have stated her refusal in a kinder manner, in retrospect, I was proud of her:  Good for her for standing up for her wish to enjoy her trifle.

Yes, there is a time to share; and a time to give generously to others. Yes, there is a time to put your needs and wants aside and go with the flow. Yes, there is a time to put someone else's desires above your own.

But there is also a time to honor your needs and wishes. There is a time to cook your eggs how you like them. There is a time to paint your walls a color that makes you happy. There is a time to wear the clothing that you like best. There is a time to make a dinner that pleases you, and not just your children.

What do you like? Are you waiting for permission?

Go ahead. Permission granted.

Those Pesky Bad Habits

Why are bad habits so painful? Why are they so harmful? And, most importantly, how do you break the cycle?

One of my bad habits is sugar bingeing. Sugar addiction held me in its grip for years, keeping me isolated from the world. It was my self protection against vulnerablity. (In the short term, food comforts easily; with other people, it's not so neat and tidy.) Sugar addiction was my way of placing my life on hold:  I couldn't love my body while I was abusing my body. It was also a form of abuse:  a manifestation of self hatred turned outward.

When I gave up sugar for good this spring, I gained better health. But, more importantly, I found self respect.

The pain of negative habits isn't solely from the habits themselves. Any addiction causes damage, whether it's to food, shopping, cigarettes, gambling, alcohol, or drugs. When I was addicted to sugar, I had extreme bouts of anger and irritability, vacillating blood sugar, yo-yoing weight, and chronic depression. But even more harmful then the physical effects were the spiritual effects:  the pain sugar bingeing caused my spirit. No one wants to be addicted. No one wants to feel out of control. No one wants to feel powerless.

What hurt the most weren't the consequences of my sugar addiction:  neither weight gain nor the upset stomach nor the depression. What hurt the most was the cause of my sugar addiction:  my inability to care for myself with love, tenderness and respect. That lack of self love appeared every time I dove into the granola instead of choosing a more nurturing path. It's the same pain that accompanies other self-denials:  choosing to go along with something I don't approve of or want to do; keeping the peace instead of speaking my mind; embracing feelings of unworthiness instead of accepting my divinity. It's the pain of denying my wants, needs and desires. It's the pain that comes from a lack of courage:  from avoiding an opportunity to stand up for myself.

When you act in ways that go against your beliefs, it hurts. If you think that you are a worthy, divine creature, it will hurt when you treat yourself in ways that belie that. Shame and sadness accompany any choice that goes against our values. And shame short circuits self love every time.

That is why it's necessary to tackle destructive behaviors. Yes, we need to accept ourselves as we are, and that means accepting all of our behaviors, good and bad. But while we start at acceptance, we don't stop there. It's very difficult to love and accept ourselves when we're wallowing in the shame and guilt from treating ourselves unkindly. We need to move to a space where we practice self love and self care, so we feel good from the inside, out.

Great. But how? Transforming these pesky habits can feel like a Catch-22:  bad habits feed our low self esteem and feelings of unworthiness; yet, until we change these habits, it's very difficult to raise our self esteem or feel good about ourselves.

So where do you begin?
1. Acceptance. For me, I had to accept that I couldn't eat sugar normally. I had to accept that when I eat sugar, I binge on it. This means that I can't eat birthday cake, Christmas cookies, or ice cream. Accepting this fact about myself was the first step in creating change:  for me, abstaining from sugar isn't deprivation, but evidence of self care and nurturing.
2. Forgiveness. Since the most destructive part of a bad habit is the guilt and shame that usually accompanies it, it's important to separate the habit from the shame. This is brilliantly discussed in Overcoming Overeating, a guide to freeing yourself from food abuse. If you're going to overeat, smoke, or indulge in some other harmful activity, the first step to healing is to bring compassionate awareness to your habit. Accept that you are caring for yourself in a harmful way, and refuse to beat yourself up about it. This is also helpful as you work at healing your habit:  you will probably have times when you slip up and fall. That's okay:  drop the guilt.
3. Compassion. Loving yourself means accepting all of who you are---including your bad habits. When you can look at your habits and see how they were an attempt to nurture yourself, you can forgive yourself. As you know better, you do better. Marshall Rosenberg's work with nonviolent communication is an excellent tool for approaching yourself and others with compassion.
4. Self care. When I have cravings for sugar, I stop to ask myself, "What is really going on here?" Sugar cravings are cravings for comfort, care, rest, and relaxation. They are signals that I'm feeling deprived. The key is to find ways to soothe that deprivation without turning to food. Usually, what I'm really wanting is one of two things:  1. Connection---with God, my spirit, friends, or loved ones. or 2. Comfort:  sleep, a recharge (I'm known to push myself too hard), time to myself, or time outside. We call this filling the tank in our home. A walk, a nap, a break from my children, or a crafty activity usually does the trick.
5. Find help. It's hard to admit that you don't have it all together. But admitting your need for help softens your heart, so that others can reach in, and offer their support. Counselors, friends, support groups, books, prayer:  I've used it all.
6. Believe you can change. I'm an ardent believer of the power of the mind (our thoughts) to create change. When I'm trying to change a negative thought pattern or belief, I support myself by surrounding myself with tangible reminders:  quotes, affirmations, and symbols that feed positive thoughts. I give myself an affirmation, such as, "Every day I grow and evolve," or, "I choose to support myself with excellent care," or, "I eat foods that nourish me." I couple this approach with prayer and self care:  my way of using my body, mind and spirit as a means to change.

Ultimately, I am not my habits. You are not your habits, either. Our frailties and stumbling blocks were given to us, on purpose, to feed our growth and development. There are no mistakes; that includes your greatest painful habit. Embrace it as an opportunity:  accept it as God's way of calling you home, to the discovery of your wonderful, incredible self.

How the Truth Sets You Free: Are You Willing to be Vulnerable?

One of those insidious little lies that keeps us blocked says that if people knew us as we really are, if they saw us without any filters, they wouldn't accept us.

This is cousin to the lie that says your body isn't acceptable unless it's perfect:  at a thin, ideal weight, unwrinkled, unblemished, hairless, toned, muscled, and polished.

Another version of the lie is that your children must be well behaved at all times. Or that you must be well behaved at all times.

This lie can make you insane:  Your dinners must be Food Network worthy; your house, like Martha's. Your body, a model's; your spirituality, Mother Teresa's.

It's a lie that keeps you from accepting yourself. It's a lie that keeps you from life, itself.

I'm inviting you to drop the lie. Be willing to be vulnerable. Be honest. Be real. Strip off the mask, and let people see who you really are.

I'll warn you:  this is life changing.

Honesty and vulnerability, you see, are excellent bedfellows; each is influenced by the other. As you become more honest, revealing the whole truth about yourself, you also become more vulnerable. You're stripping off your armor, exposing yourself to others' slings and arrows. 

When I began First Ourselves, I was initially uncomfortable being so open. My honesty felt like walking around without skin. But it's that very willingness to be real that has generated a connection and response with other women. I'm not rejected by others because of my honesty; I'm accepted because of it. This is true not only for me. Think of the relief you feel when someone whom you've always admired, someone that you look to as the epitome of the perfect mom, woman, wife, reveals her weaknesses. Doesn't her vulnerability make you like her more, not less?

We all have mean thoughts. We all judge others. We all can be petty, unforgiving and self absorbed. What a relief to know that we're not alone; that we're not the only ones who think this way. How nice to know that we're all in this, together.

On the other side of vulnerabilty awaits a precious commodity:  freedom. The truth sets you free in many ways. On a practical level, honesty creates freedom because you aren't expending time and energy constructing a false front. You don't have to remember your story, or prop up your lies with backup.

But, more importantly, the truth sets you free by releasing you from shame. We hide the truth of ourselves because we're ashamed by it. We're ashamed of our secret corners; those dark habits that mar our divinity. It's why we hide our addictions, our fears, and even our hopes and dreams. But putting those habits and dreams out in the open, where everyone can see them, is what releases the shame. When you own all of who you are---the good, and the bad---shame disappears.

I've revealed it all; my eating disorder, my depression, my overeating, my body hatred. I reveal it all because I own it all. I hold no shame against myself. And because I hold no shame, I don't feel vulnerable in sharing my story. You can call me on anything, any piece of my past or present, and I won't flinch. I don't run from who I am.

You see, in owning who I am, in accepting the truth about myself, I also accept a greater truth:  The real me, the real Karly, isn't the overeater, the body hater, the depressive. The real me, my spirit, is so much greater than that. I am not my habits. I am not my thoughts. I am not my behavior.

You aren't either.

I'm free to accept my stumbling blocks, just as I am free to accept my divinity. I'm free to love others unconditionally; to accept their stumbling blocks, and their divinity.

Being vulnerable, you see, will change your world. It will split your heart wide open, it will tear down the wall that separates you from others. Sometimes, the tenderness of this world, of all of those aching, lovely souls that cross your path, will bring you to tears. Being vulnerable will mean you'll cry more, you'll laugh more, and you'll experience everything in greater depth. Being vulnerable is really about one thing: being willing to love.

Are you ready? Dive in.

Tackle a Challenge

Over the weekend, I spontaneously turned an early morning jog into a speedwork session; my first in over a year, since becoming pregnant last spring. I ran down to a park, and ran 600 hundred meter repeats.

At one point, a woman walking her dog exclaimed, "Man, you're fast."

I'll be totally honest:  I felt like She-Ra. Granted, I probably had a nice steady stream of endorphins pumping through my system, but I think my good feelings stemmed from more than just hormones.

I felt good because I tackled a challenge:  I willingly took on something hard. I could have gone for an easy jog. But I followed my intuitive impulse, and pushed myself. It makes me think of something I saw on a coffee cup in a gift store yesterday:  "May you have enough challenges to keep you strong."

Yes.

I'm all for making life easier than it needs to be. Alan Cohen's message of making success easy had a profound effect on me, a completely different philosophy from the "No pain, no gain," mentality I'd previously harbored.

But sometimes a challenge is a good thing. It gives you the opportunity to flex your muscles, to rise to the occasion. It provides an opportunity to align your integrity with your behavior:  to put your beliefs into action.

I thought of this last week when I faced a difficult conversation with an employee. Rather than fearing it (assertion hasn't been my historical strong suit), I embraced it as a growth opportunity. I was scared and afraid, but I made the phone call, anyway. And afterwords? I felt just as empowered as I had after running sprints. I also realized that the conversation wasn't that hard to do, after all.

And this is how we grow:  every time we confront something difficult or fearful. We move up a notch, so that the next time we face a similar situation, we're unfazed. When life throws you huge obstacles, it's really a compliment in disguise:  it means your ready for the next level.

What challenge can you tackle this week? Maybe there's a difficult conversation that you've been avoiding. Maybe you want to call about that job offer. Maybe you want to face that addiction that holds you back. Maybe it's time to wear a bathing suit and going swimming.

The challenge itself doesn't matter; it can be anything. Victory, in all its forms, tastes the same:  sweet.

Your Frequently Asked Question: "What Should I Do First?" See Yourself Free

I've written extensively about my battle with sugar addiction. Connie Bennett battled sugar addiction, too. Her experiences led her to write a bestselling book, Sugar Shock, that helps free others from addiction to sugar and refined carbohydrates. I love her approach; her wise advice and focus on positive change can be applied to any arena, whether it be food, loving your body, or standing up for your life. For more information on Sugar Shock, visit her site here.

What Should I Do First

by Connie Bennett, C.H.H.C.

One of the very first questions that most people have when they want to stomp out their pesky sugar habit is: "What's the very first thing that I should do to kick or cut back on sugar or refined carbs?"

After conquering my own horrible habit in 1998, inspiring thousands of "sugar sufferers," and studying or receiving input from many medical and self-actualization experts, I've found that the most important first step is to see yourself free, feel your sugar-free success, and happily revel in it.

Here are 10 easy, effective tips and tactics to help you to begin to break free:

1. First off, congratulate yourself that you've even asked this question. Yes, really pat yourself on the back. You see, many sugar addicts, I've found, beat up on themselves for having eaten so many high-calorie, nutrient-poor sweets over the years. Instead, I contend, they should be excited, much like a runner is who made it to the starting gate. So begin right now to lavish some praise and much-needed applause on yoruself, whether it's in a letter or poem to yourself or in a heart-to-heart conversation with a really good friend or loved one, who will support you in your endeavor.

2. Begin your day -- and go through your day -- with the firm belief in your heart that you can finally lick this annoying, if not horrifying, unhealthy sugar habit. Know without a doubt in the depth of your being that you will accomplish this. (If you're having some trouble believing this, then move to Tip # 3.)

3. Create a sugar-free affirmation or mantra that rings true for you. You could go for something simple like: "I am free of this sugar habit." Perhaps you'd like to try: "I succeeded! I am free of sugar cravings." Or you might like to try: "I only eat healthy, nourishing foods." And if you want to peel off some pounds, you may wish to say something like: "I, [your name], choose only nourishing foods that will help me reach my ideal weight."

4. State your sugar-free mantra out loud at least 20 times in the morning, 20 times midday and 20 times in the evening. Repeat them either inwardly (if people are around) or out loud (if you're alone) whenever sweets or simple carbs "call out" to you.

5. Write your mantra at least 20 times a day in a notebook. As you take pen to paper, feel yourself actually licking this pesky habit.

6. Play and replay "a movie in your mind" where you're the heroine or hero, and guess what you're doing? That's right, you are easily, gracefully and happily turning away from sugar and towards more healthy foods or activities. You can find literature galore that attests to the power and effectiveness of visualization.

7. Now select one, two or even three people who have wildly succeeded at something, and study their amazing stories. Anytime you're discouraged, just think how they overcame tremendous odds, and if they did it, so can you.

8. Read inspirational books and passages daily. "As a Man Thinketh" by James Allen, "You Can if You Think You Can" by Norman Vincent Peale, and "The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success" by Deepak Chopra were among the many books that helped me become sugar-free years ago. I still like to read them for inspiration about other matters. If the Bible is special to you, by all means select choice sections to study often, too.

9. Find and hang out with positive, like-minded people who also share this optimistic, glass-is-almost-full point of view.

10. Make sure to acknowledge, and maybe even celebrate each accomplishment such as making it through a day without sweets or eating less of them. Naturally, by this I mean that you should do something special that's sugar-free. You decide what works for you. It could be as simple as breathing deeply, filling up with pride and saying, "Congratulations, [State Your Name], I made it through the day." But applaud yourself each step of the way, because those steps can add up to a week, two weeks, etc. without sweets, where you lose weight, get more energy, feel more focused, and geet along better with other. So happily revel in your small successes now.

And bear in mind: I have confidence in you. You can do it! I know it!

© Copyright 2007. Connie Bennett, C.H.H.C., Sugar-Freedom Coach & Author, SUGAR SHOCK! (Berkley Books, Penguin Group), www.SugarShock.com. Learn more about how you can purge sugar from your life.

Earning Your Keep vs. Accepting Your Worthiness

I spent several years diving into myself, uncovering why I hated my body. Through this process, I realized that my body bashing had very little to do with the outer, physical shell. My poor body was merely the scapegoat:  the outlet for my internal frustration. My body image issues were a symptom of my low self esteem and feelings of unworthiness; not the cause.  As I unraveled my hairball, I uncovered several false beliefs about myself as a person---stinking thinking, it's called---that led to my negative body image.

One of those beliefs was the idea that I had to earn my keep. This idea has many stepsisters:  that I must always be working towards a task, accomplishing something. That I can only ask for help if I have something to offer in return. That idleness or pleasure is indulgent and selfish. That success only comes with a struggle, and lots, and lots of hard work.

This false belief that we have to earn our keep can manifest in numerous ways. Here's how this translates into everyday life:

• As a stay at home mom, you feel guilty for spending money on your personal pleasure---a manicure, beautiful clothes, or books---because you're not a breadwinner.
• You feel guilty asking your spouse for help because it means extra work for him, in addition to his 9 to 5 job.
• If someone helps you out in a pinch, you feel obligated to return the favor.
• You feel undeserving of help unless you are in dire straights:  sick, facing hardship, or unemployed.
• If someone gives you a gift, you want to reciprocate.
• You only feel comfortable spending money on practical items---necessities---and feel as if you have to justify purchases that are merely wants.
• You spend money on your children, home, and spouse, but not on yourself.
• You give up time set aside for yourself---exercise, a night out with girlfriends, a morning meditation time---to attend to the needs of others.

This is not a fun way to live. (I know:  I lived this way for years.)

Contrast this experience with the opposite belief of earning your keep; an internal knowing that you are a worthy and divine human being, created in the image of God:

• You give yourself permission to rest and relax.
• You set aside money for fun, enjoyment, and pleasure.
• You graciously accept offers of help.
• When someone offers a compliment, you say, "Thank you," and mean it.
• You are an excellent receiver of gifts, both tangible and intangible.
• You approach life with joy.
• You make self care a priority.
• You create your own happiness, in the here and now, rather than waiting for someday (when I lose ten pounds, when the children are grown, when I meet my partner, when I'm out of debt...)

Doesn't that sound better? When you are conscious of your worthiness, you live without that desire to prove your worthiness. It's inherent, unrelated to your behavior, your thoughts, or your beliefs. You can deeply and completely accept yourself, at your best and at your worst.

Appreciating your worthiness creates joy, as you give yourself permission to engage in activities solely for your pleasure.

It creates an open heart, because you are an open, willing, and gracious receiver of the munificence of the universe, whether that comes in the form of an unexpected gift, an offer for help, or a compliment.

It gives you roots, a support system whereby you know that you can ask for help and count on others in your time of need.

It inspires gratitude, as you focus more on what's working in your life instead of what isn't.

It increases your self esteem, as your self worth is no longer tied to what you do (your behavior), what you look like (your appearance), or what you accomplish (your tasks).

If you have internal beliefs that doubt your sense of worthiness, you need to rewrite the script. When your inner voice offers criticism, or implies that you need to earn your keep: stop. Question it. Ask yourself, "Who says so?" If you believe that being a good mom means being a self-sacrificing one, ask, "Who says?" Do you say so? I'm guessing no. I'm guessing that you are adopting someone else's beliefs:  your mom's, tradition's, society's. But is it your belief?

Try this for a week:  monitor the voice that prompts you to earn your keep. Keep a notebook handy, and when you feel the whip from your internal taskmaster, write it down. Do you see any patterns? When does the voice come up? Where do you believe you aren't worthy of care, love and feeding?

That's the first step:  uncovering the when and where. Now let's look at changing the why. Why do you believe thoughts of unworthiness? Where do these thoughts come from? Where did you receive your programming?

Now, let it go. No matter where it came from:  a church, your family, society, let it go. They only gave you what they knew. But now you know better, and you can choose better. Can you think of a new belief that is more empowering? Can you frame it in an affirmation or mantra that you can use as a reminder, when those old, false beliefs pop up?

Here are some that have worked for me:

• I deeply and completely love and accept myself.
• I am worthy of pleasure.
• I ask for what I need.
• I am an excellent receiver.

I use these prompts when I need encouragement or a reminder, when I'm feeling scared and uncomfortable (growth can do that) and I want to slip back into old beliefs, because they're familiar.  Over time, as I outwardly practice doing things that support my worthiness, it strengthens my new belief. It grows stronger, and stronger, until my old way of thinking is the exception, and not the norm.

Just last week I was ordering new glasses and I faced a choice:  do I buy the ones I really, really love, even though they're the most expensive, or do I save the $100 and buy ones that will suffice, but don't make my heart sing? I chose joy. My glasses arrived yesterday. When I put them on, I felt so good:  not just because I really, really liked them, but because they served as a reminder of how I stood up for myself and honored my worthiness. The best part? They will remind me of this every time I wear them:  compounding my joy with every use. 

Creating Body Ease: Step 8: Adopt Feel Good Habits

"If I could change one thing for women, it would be helping them to believe they have the inner strength they need to make their lives better."
                                -Alice Domar, Ph. D.

In step six, we spoke about finding physical activities that help you appreciate your body as an instrument, versus an ornament. In many ways, step seven, adopting feel good habits, is a natural extension.

What makes you feel good? What brings your body joy and delight? I'll share some of my bodily pleasures:  running; long walks with my husband; doing a handstand, a pull up, or a difficult yoga pose; a leisurely bike ride; sitting outside in the sun; a perfectly grilled steak; raspberries, right off the bush; tomatoes and fresh basil; roast turkey and gravy; macadamia nut butter; creamy risotto with spring vegetables. A perfect balance of food:  where I'm full, but not stuffed. Dancing with my husband in the kitchen. Nursing my baby. Hugging my kids. Making love. Painting my toes. Getting dressed up for a night on the town. The high after giving birth. Trying a new lipstick.

That's my list. What's yours?

It's important to know what makes you feel good, because without this knowlege, your habits are at the mercy of your inner taskmaster. You'll do things because you should:  eat certain foods because they're healthy; exercise because your doctor says so; take supplements because an expert recommends them. Or you'll exercise and eat certain foods, not for the pleasure that they give you, but because you believe they'll bestow a thinner or more beautiful body.

The problem with these scenarios is thus:  duty is a terrible motivator. So is vanity.

If our habits are motivated by fear, duty, or vanity, will they stick for the long haul? Probably not. But if our habits are motivated by joy and delight, will they remain long term ones? Probably. Why? Because joy and delight have intrinsic motivation:  your reward comes from doing them, not from some future benefit.

Adopting feel good habits increases our integrity, because they align our external behaviors with our internal desire to love ourselves. When we chose poor habits:  undereating, overeating, eating food that makes us feel icky, saying yes to obligations that we don't want to do, we feel bad. Why? Because we're experiencing the dissonance that accompanies a lack of alignment.

Here's how this plays out in real life:  instead of eating the pasta that you really want for dinner, you have a salad. Then, feeling unsatisfied, you root around the kitchen, nibbling on some fruit, maybe a cracker, until you finally give into the pasta that you wanted in the first place. But, at this point, you're overstuffed and you feel terrible. By contrast, if you would've given yourself permission to eat the pasta, most likely, you would have enjoyed a bowl, and then stopped when you were full.

The destructiveness of bad habits isn't derived so much from the habits themselves as the damage they leave in their wake. When I was in the throes of overeating, the extra calories weren't as ruinous as the mental and emotional anguish that accompanied my binges. It was afterwards, when I berated myself for overeating, that I felt such pain. Why? Because I was ignoring my inner voice, who wanted kindness towards my body, not abuse. I was in turmoil because of my inability to stand up for myself and treat my body in ways that made me, and it, feel good.

Feel good habits, by contrast, do what their name implies:  they help you feel good. They're a way of putting your desire to love your body into action. It grounds your intention into something tangible:  a physical landmark on your journey. As you create more and more landmarks, they serve as reminders of the ways you are loving your body. This feeds upon itself, until destructive habits are the exception, and not the rule.

Do I have you convinced? Great. Now for the scary part:  I can't tell you what will make you feel good. No other expert can, either. You're the one with the answers.

My role, you see, is to support you on your journey. I am not the food, exercise, or body police. Your external behavior doesn't matter to me:  anything can arise from good, or bad, intentions. Are you eating broccoli because you enjoy the taste and it gives you energy? Or are you eating it as punishment, because you believe it's good for you and you should eat it? Do you get a facial because it feels relaxing and pampering? Or is it fueled by anxiety about ageing? Do you go to the gym because a sweaty workout refreshes and energizes you? Or do you go to the gym to cancel out the calories you ate last night at dinner?

See:  anything can be construed as a good, or bad, habit. That's why, at some point, you have to stop reading the latest diet book, fitness magazine, and even this website and dive into yourself. While others can serve as guides, you are the only one who knows what does and doesn't work for your body. You are the only one who knows the motivations behind your behavior.

Loving your body means believing that you have the ability to be an excellent caretaker of yourself. As  Alice Domar said, it's believing that you have the strength to do what needs doing. It's trusting that you can say no to requests that don't mesh with your values. It's believing that you will know when to exercise and when to rest; when to celebrate and enjoy the birthday cake, and when to chose more vegetables.

One way of doing this is by creating space in your life for connection. Give yourself moments of stillness, when you can reconnect your body with your mind. Before you fix yourself something to eat, stop and ask yourself:  What do I want to eat right now? What sounds good to me? Before you say yes to a party invitation, stop and ask yourself:  Do I want to go? Before you do your usual routine at the gym, ask yourself: What exercise do I want to do today? Do I want to exercise at all?

I know this sounds scary. We're afraid that if we relax our standards that we'll adopt no standards at all, and end up obese, unhealthy, and lazy. But loving our bodies means trusting that as we bring all ourselves into alignment, we'll balance our needs, finding a way to meet them all. So we'll meet our fashionista's need for pretty clothes. We'll meet our body's need for rest, good food, and physical activity. We'll meet our inner child's need for play and fun. We'll meet our spirit's need for quiet and solitude.   

This is what coming home looks like:  becoming your own best friend.

The Self Care/Loving your Body Connection

As I see it, self care and loving your body are not that far apart. How are they related? Their appearance or absence in your life are primarily influenced by how you feel about yourself:  your value and self worth as a person. Self care and body love are merely behaviors; the effect, not the cause. They are following your internal belief system, not guiding it.

What's guiding your behavior is your internal beliefs. If you want to love your body, if you want to say no to obligations that leave you drained, if you want to add more joy to your life, if you want to honor your needs, you must first and foremost believe that you are worthy of these things. And you believe that you are worthy of pleasure, joy, love and acceptance by embracing that you are worthy, joyful, beloved, and accepted.

Yes, it's primarily an inside job. If you believe you are a worthy, lovable human being, then you will most likely believe your body is worthy and lovable, too. If you believe you are worthy and lovable, then you will treat yourself as someone who is worthy of love and care. By contrast, if you are harsh, critical and demanding towards your body, I will bet that you are also harsh, critical, and demanding towards yourself. Believing that you need to be a size four to be worthy is just one more version of the lie that your entire being needs to be perfect to be worthy.

If you beat yourself up for gaining ten pounds, you'll probably beat yourself up for burning a dinner or losing your temper with your children. Why? These thoughts are all the work of our inner critic, which feeds off our unworthiness until it seeps into every area of our lives:  home, work, family, and health.

I think about the years that I spent dieting, desperately trying to lose fifteen pounds. While I exercised punitively (one mile for every indulgence the preceding night), and punished myself with stringent food restrictions, I also denied myself comfort, care, friendship, and nurturing. I treated my body as I treated myself:  harshly. I treated others as I treated myself:  harshly. I was prickly with my family and loved ones, because the same criticism I directed towards myself I directed towards others.

Thank goodness for the grace of change. Today, I can see correlations, the varied offspring of my journey of self love:  as I give myself permission to relish and enjoy food, I've given myself permission to relish and enjoy my other earthy, lusty desires for sexual connection, pleasure, and joy.

As I relax about my weight and the number on the scale, I relax about money and the number in my bank account.

As I relax my expectations for what I should look like, I relax my expectations for what my house should look like.

As I've relaxed my perfectionist standards for myself, I've also relaxed my standards for my children, my husband, and my family.

As I let myself feel beautiful, I let other women be beautiful, without the jealousy I'd previously felt.

As I nurture my body with good food, exercise, fabulous, flattering clothes, and pampering, I likewise nurture myself with juicy novels, afternoon naps, girlfriend time, and window shopping.

As I deeply and completely love and accept my body, with its quirks, imperfections, and blemishes, I am also able to completely love and accept others with their quirks and imperfections. As I've loved my body, I've loved myself; as I've loved myself, I've extended that love outward, to others. It's a spiral of change that softened my ego, quieted my judgments, and created peaceful relationships where heretofore was friction.

As I love myself, I love my body. As I love my body, I love myself. As I love myself, I love others; I love my life. It's a mutally reciprocal road, that extends inward, outward, and eventually, upward, reawakening each of us to our true, divine nature.

Are You a Producer?

Bliss Blocker #2:  Are You a Producer?

Are you always five or ten minutes late, while intending to be on time?  Do you love crossing off tasks from lists? Do you thrive on a busy schedule? If this describes you, then, according to an article in Reader's Digest, you're a producer.

What's a producer? Someone who is trying to do too much. To a producer, a day is an opportunity to tackle a to-do list. If you're a producer, and you have an extra five minutes before heading out the door to an appointment, what do you do? You squeeze in a load of laundry.

Being a producer isn't "bad," in itself. But it can make you late and frazzled. Producers create problems when they squeeze tasks into every available minute, because they don't leave in any margin for error. Stuff happens, and you're late:  If the laundry takes more than five minutes, or if the baby needs a diaper change before heading out the door, you won't make it to the dentist's office on time.

The sources of overproduction
I think many women underestimate just how much they do in an average day. In Finding the Deep River Within, author Abby Sexias, feeling frustrated one night before bed, wrote down everything she had accomplished that day. Her list amazed her:  She thought she hadn't done much of anything; her list said otherwise.

Modern life is full of conveniences:  microwaves, dishwashers, computers, cell phones, and drive-throughs. But conveniences aren't time savers as much as they are time allowers:  they enable us to get more done. We don't collect the time we save from a dishwasher---we use it to clean the kitchen, or call a friend, in addition to washing the dishes. No wonder women are exhausted.

If you're like me, being late feels yucky. It creates stress, from the urgency in trying to be on time when you're behind; it stirs up anxiety and overwhelment from rushing; it leads to guilt from letting others down.   

So what's the solution?

1. Appreciate all that you are doing. Make your list:  What did you do today? Does your list amaze you? Is your list mammoth in size, and scope?
2. Recognize how much time it really takes to accomplish something. Part of the reason you squeeze in little tasks throughout the day is that you underestimate how long it takes to do something. Does cleaning up the kitchen after dinner take ten minutes, or thirty? How about a trip to the post office? It may take five minutes if it's empty, but twenty when there's a line. With this knowledge, you can more accurately plan what is possible in any given 24 hours.
3. Factor in transitions. It takes me ten minutes to get all of my children out the door to run an errand; fifteen in the winter with coats, boots and cold weather gear. However, I wasn't factoring in that time into my day; so I was always late. We transition between tasks, and that takes both time and energy. Give yourself mental and physical space to do so, and your day will flow in a gentler rhythm.
4. Give yourself margin. Allow time for error, and accept the inevitability of delays. If you give yourself extra time for trains, potty trips, and bad weather, then you won't be rushed. Likewise, if you leave open windows of time between tasks, you'll have a break; your day won't seem like an endless errand or chore list.
   
5. Recognize the value in being early. Think of how nice it feels to arrive somewhere unrushed, unhurried, and with ten minutes to spare.
6. Mollify your inner producer. If you dislike the idea of "wasting time" because you're early, bring something with you:  a book, thank you notes, or your checking account statement, so you can reassure your inner producer that you can use those extra ten minutes to your advantage, if you really, really want to. Chances are, you may enjoy your downtime, and use it for relaxing or reading a magazine, instead.

Life is busy; we have full lives. Manage yours with a "mind like water," as productivity guru David Allen says, and you'll feel pleasurably, not stressfully, full.

Change Your Thoughts

If loving our bodies is simply a matter of altering our thoughts, that's great. But how? How do you change your thoughts? If you've been stewing in body hatred for years, there's a lot of power and momentum in that negativity. It takes vigilance to switch gears. Changing your thoughts may feel like trying not to think.

I don't try to control my thoughts as much as I choose thoughts that make me feel better. So when I feel frumpy, I can find a new thought like, "I am beautiful, even without make up." Or, if that feels too far fetched (and sometimes it does), I can say, "I am okay, just the way I am." Or, "Even though I'm feeling frumpy right now, I accept myself." I can be honest; I can find a more positive thought even if I'm not harboring loving thoughts about my body at the moment.

In their book Ask and It is Given, Esther and Jerry Hicks say that the key to changing your thoughts is to reach for the next higher thought. We make the mistake of trying to go from, "I'm so fat and ugly," to "I'm a beautiful goddess." The problem with such a giant leap is that we don't believe it. It's trying to do too much at once.

Changing your thoughts is like working your way up a spiral. Start where you are, at this moment:  Maybe you woke up this morning and feel icky because your pants are tight. Or maybe you're regretting the three bowls of ice cream you ate last night. So you're not where you want to be. We all have these feelings; we all have moments when we're not feeling our best.

Start there, and try to find a thought that feels even a little bit better. So instead of, "I'm a fat pig," say, "I can make healthier choices today." Doesn't that feel better? Then you can move to, "Even though I ate three bowls of ice cream last night, I deeply and completely love and accept myself." Then you can go one more step up the spiral to, "I make choices that support my body." Then take one more step to, "I love and accept my body."

Imagine your mental patterns like a wagon wheel, forming deep ruts in the road from miles and miles of use. You're trying to form a new pattern, to shape a new set of tracks. But getting out of your current rut will feel bumpy, rocky, and uncomfortable while you make the transition. Knowing this is one way of supporting yourself while you adopt any change, including your thoughts. Over time, your new way of thinking will get easier and easier. Over time, your old patterns will feel like speaking a foreign language, and your new way of thinking will be second nature. One day, you will wake up and your thoughts won't criticize your body, but celebrate it.

That's a worthy vision. I'm willing to work towards that. Are you?

Create Your Tribe

"Remember the dignity of your womanhood."

-Christabel Pankhurst

Last night, I spoke to my best friend for hours on the phone. I was feeling inside out:  worn out from Mommying four children, tired of the hard work involved in writing every day, and detached from the me that isn't the Mom and wife. Our talk made me laugh, reconnect with my femininity, and lighten up:  I went to bed with a full heart. This morning I went for a walk with a friend; and then I connected with another acquiantance at the pool:  two more opportunities to nurture and be nurtured. Each woman offered her own, unique version of levity, advice, and encouragement. And each woman reminded me of the importance of sisterhood.

One of my favorite novels is Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, a story of four lifelong friends who share each other's ups and downs. I love this book because it gleefully recounts the camaraderie of women. I also love it because I, too, long for a group of friends like the Ya Yas. What women doesn't want a tribe, a circle of friends?

Every woman deserves a tribe:  A best friend who knows your soul, inside and out. A childhood friend who remembers you as a girl, and reminds you of who you've been. An aunt, a mother, or a mentor who reminds you of who you want to be. A fashionista who can tell you what colors, hairstyle, make-up and clothes make you look your best. A cheerleader, to keep you going when you're feeling discouraged. A rowdy, crazy, fun pal, who takes you out of your comfort zone and can always be counted on for a good story. A mother friend, who loves watching your kids when you want to run away from home.

Who's in your tribe? Who do you wish was in your tribe?

Do you want to learn how to knit, vacation in Mexico, jitterbug, cook from scratch, garden, paint? Do you want to know how to dress stylishly, to stop emotionally eating, to run a marathon? I guarantee there's a women who would love to help you.

Too often we let intimidation prevent us from reaching out to other women. I know many women who have lots and lots of acquaintances, but few close friends. Moving from acquiantanceship to friendship implies a willingness for intimacy; an expression of your desire for increased closeness. This is scary, and risky; because not every acquiantance wants to be a best friend.

But what's even riskier, and scarier, is to miss an opportunity for an incredible source of support, kinship, and fun. Other women can be our strongest allies. Other women can be our greatest teachers. Other women can be our greatest asset. We aren't meant to mother alone. We aren't meant to work alone. We aren't meant to journey through womanhood alone.

Where's your tribe? How can you create one, today?

No More Frump Moms

"I don't design clothes. I design dreams."
-Ralph Lauren

In my 20s, I wrote about fashion for a metropolitan newspaper, devoured Vogue and InStyle, and, at one time, even harbored a desire to design clothing. I loved frou-frou shoes, jewelry, and would favor a skirt over jeans any day. For me, assembling outfits was like playing dress up for grown ups:  fun.

Two things changed this:  1. Moving to Montana, where weather and practicality trump style, and  2. becoming a mother. I gave away my pretty clothes, traded sandals and funky boots for clunky shoes (the fact that my feet grew after my first pregnancy meant I couldn't wear many of my old shoes, anyway), and dressed up less and less. Sweats, a baseball hat, and exercise clothes became my uniform.

This was not good for my spirit.

I'm from the Midwest, where girls cared about their appearance, but not overly so. Then I went to college in Nashville, where I was surrounded by Southern girls who groomed themselves impeccably, even when working out at the gym. They were like beautiful thoroughbreds, and they knew how to be stylish, wear make-up and look their best. I was filled with awe, admiration, and a little bit of intimidation.  But it taught me an important lesson:  that it's okay to be well groomed.

Yes, you can argue that too much focus on appearance leads to self-absorption and vanity. But too little isn't healthy, either. I think personal style is one of motherhood's first victims. After all, the consuming task of caring for a newborn doesn't leave much time for a shower, let alone a manicure or make-up. Cashmere sweaters don't like spit-up and sticky fingers. And it's hard to justify fashion expenses when contrasted with college tuition, a wedding, and eighteen years of groceries, doctor visits, and piano lessons.

But a frumpy Mommmy is not a happy Mommy. And it's hard to have happy children with an unhappy Mom. (I speak from years of experience here.) I know some women love being comfortable, and prefer jeans and a natural look. I like jeans and a natural look, too. But if I wear jeans, I want cute ones; a natural look that is intentional, and not from a four day shower lapse. I can spend a day or two in casual mode, but if it becomes a habit, frump Mom takes over, and I feel cranky and resentful. 

Here's what it comes down to for me:  I like feeling pretty. I like expressing my creativity in my dress. I love dressing up, and I love to feel smashing. And even though I'm a mom to four children, including a baby, I can still find ways to express this part of my spirit.

My inner fashionista didn't die when I became a Mom. She's still there. And the thing of it is, if she doesn't have a creative outlet, she finds insidious, less positive ways to do so:  depression, resentment, or eating way too many chips.

If you could dress in any style, what would it be? For just a moment, ignore the spit-up, the exploding cost of gas and housing, the weather, and all those other "buts" from your practical self. What makes you feel smashing?

Obstacles, you see, can be overcome. You can be pretty, and practical. Being stylish doesn't necessitate designer clothes (I find delightful things at Target) or a complicated make-up routine (mine takes four minutes, but makes a huge difference in my mood.) One of the best things I ever did for my appearance was get a haircut that works with my hair. Having hair that looks great with very little styling is a life saver for any Mom who wants to steer away from the slippery slide into frumpdom.

You can be casual and cute, too. If you wear sweats, find a flattering pair, with a matching jacket and pants, a funky trainer, and maybe even a little camisole to go with them. After my son was born, and I couldn't fit into any of my old clothes, I splurged on stretchy, knit separates and sweats that made me feel good.

If you still think it can't be done, think about the woman who most intimidates you, the one who always looks incredible. (I guarantee you know at least one happening Momma who has your admiration.) Ask her how she does it. She'll be flattered you asked, and you'll find an ally to support your cause.

Fashion doesn't have to be frivolous. Your personal style is not an indulgence. As Ralph Lauren reminds us, clothes are more than just clothes. They are like curtains for our soul, the window dressing of our wildest dreams. Wrap these gifts with care, and delight.

Dreamblockers and Crutches

"Whatever you are meant to do, move toward it and it will come to you."

-Gloria Dunn

I believe that writing and encouraging women is my purpose. Yet, sometimes I sit in front of the computer to work on First Ourselves and feel nothing but fear. I'm afraid to expose myself, to be vulnerable, to believe that I can be successful. When I'm feeling fearful, I have an arsenal of delay tactics that I use. I procrastinate, surf the web, tackle housework, or overcommit myself so that I don't have time to write.

I even use my children as a dreamblocker, because I can blame my family obligations as the reason why I can't succeed. Just last night I offered to do more work for my other job, working in my husband's company, because it's less risky than baring my soul.

Why am I afraid? I'm afraid that I'll write and write and write and never reach more women than a handful of friends. I'm afraid of sharing my heart with the world, only to be ignored. I'm afraid that I'll get discouraged and give up.

Following your dreams can be scary. It's terrifying to put yourself out on the line; to share your heart and deepest dreams with the world, and then await the response. Poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti describes that vulnerability as walking naked on the rooftops. You're exposed for all the world to see. What if they laugh? Or, worse, what if you're ignored?

Doreen Virtue says that one of the reasons women binge eat is to avoid their life purpose. Reading that was an a-ha moment for me, the last knot in unraveling why I sabatoge myself whenever I get clear about food. As long I'm focused on healing my overeating, I can avoid healing the other stuff. I can avoid writing, or sharing my story with the world. I can avoid feeling beautiful, which can also be scary. Food is my insulation; it comforts me without forcing me to be real, or vulnerable. It's my crutch; the justification I use so that I don't have to begin (I'll help women after I've fixed this.) So as long as I'm overeating, I can delay my dreams into infinity.

Food is my crutch. Fear is another. What is a crutch? A crutch is whatever keeps you from doing the work that really matters: tackling your deepest longings. A crutch can even be something good for you, like exercise or reading. (I spent years devouring novels as an escape from my depression.) Even pain can be a crutch---poverty, obesity, overspending---because it also keeps you distracted and focused on survival, instead of digging for gold.

What keeps you from your dreams? What obstacles do you place in your path? Do you think of your goals in this way:  I'll start ______ once I ______?

But just start; now. Productivity guru David Allen says that all you have to do is take the first step; and then the next one will appear. Every moment is ripe with possibility, because it holds the opportunity to act. You don't have to wait until the New Year, Monday, or when you have it all together to begin.  You can take the first step towards your purpose, today.

Structure without Neuroticism

I recently took an assessment from a life coach that gave me a surprising insight about myself. I've always been one of those odd birds who actually enjoys organizing closets, tidying up the house, and making lists. So I was surprised to read that, while my behaviors may demonstrate an appreciation for structure and order, I resist it in my mind.

The more I thought about this, I realized its truth. I'm a stay at home mom, a homeschooler, a mother of an infant, and I also work part time from home. All these different roles, without structure, blend from one into the other, until I feel like I work all day long without ceasing. Or I feel that, in trying to serve so many masters, I'm not doing any one thing well.

I could benefit from more structure in my life:  Finding ways to compartamentalize my roles so that I accomplish what I need to do each day. Building routines so that I tackle the most important tasks first, before the inevitable issues that arise that need my attention. Creating regular times for exercise, so that the day doesn't get sucked into other tasks while my exercise goes by the wayside. As an overeater, structure is crucial in my eating habits; otherwise I end up grazing all day or inhaling junk food because I've waited too long to eat and I'm starving.

I used to think of structure as an imposition; as someone telling me what to do, which drove my ego into hypersensitive overdrive. I would resist structure, even when it would greatly benefit me, because I rallied against "authority."

Now, I look at structure in this way. Structure is my roots:  the framework around which I organize my time, my behavior, and my relationships. My roots ground me. They connect my earth---my humanity---with my sky---my spirituality. It's the channel whereby one flows freely to the other. Structure gives me grace to function in all my myriad roles; to shelter time each day for my self care---exercise, healthy food, alone time, and fun. Otherwise the to do list takes over.

Structure gives me boundaries; discipline that shapes my choices. This actually makes my life easier, not more difficult, because I have a set framework in which to act. For example, I don't eat sugar. I've made a choice to be disciplined in that area of my life, because I feel so much better when I don't eat it. But there's a huge difference between being relaxed in my discipline, and being neurotic.

It's no fun being neurotic, for both yourself, and those around you. A few years ago, I went completely off sugar, and I was incredibly stringent and uptight about my abstinenance. I was a sugar Nazi, mentally chastising anyone who ate the sweet stuff. Because I chose not to eat it, I thought I knew what was best for others, too. And if I couldn't eat it, you shouldn't eat it, either.

My sugar abstinenance didn't last long; how could it? My neuroticism stifled my spirit, until it rebelled with a sugar overdose. Who wants to live with an internal critic, wagging their finger at every opportunity? Who wants to be around a neurotic, feeling like every choice you make is scrutinized?

Today, my external behavior is the same---I'm choosing to be abstinent from sugar---but my attitude is different. I've chosen to relax in my abstinenance, to laugh about it, to embrace it with joy, not with fear and rigidity. I celebrate others' ability to enjoy sugar, because I would lap it up if I could eat it, too.

And my spirit? Instead of feeling rebuked or rebellious, it feels coddled and comforted, freeing me to focus on my joy and abundance, and not my abstinenance.

Loving your teachers

I find it amazing how serene I feel while I'm meditating, enjoying my quiet morning reading time, or while I'm out on a walk by myself. Yet when I come downstairs and hear my children bickering, my serenity takes a nosedive in about ten seconds. Inner peace fades quickly in the presence of the never-ending argument over Polly Pockets.

That's when I take a deep breath and remind myself that, even though I may think that running away to Tahiti is the solution to restoring my equilibrium, my children are my greatest teachers. So is my husband, my mother, and all my family and loved ones. While my ego may believe that our relationships would be perfect if only they changed a habit or two, the truth is they are simply doing their job:  showing me where I still need to grow.

I thought of this yesterday when my husband cautioned me as I dove into a bag of tortilla chips. He was trying to be helpful, suggesting that I take a serving and put them on a plate, lest I eat half the bag and feel terrible later. However, I let my ego take over and interpret his helpfulness as telling me what to do. Instead of embracing his wise insight, I let myself feel like I was being interrogated by the food police.

But he was simply doing his job:  being my teacher; pointing out how I could help myself.

I once heard someone say that the true test of spirtituality is the status of your relationships. I think this is because our relationships are like mirrors; they shine light on our dark spots with greater intensity. What we may be able to hide from casual acquiantances are brought into a spotlight with our parents, spouses, children, and siblings. They trigger our buttons in ways a store clerk or waitress won't, or can't.

The next time someone pushes your buttons, be grateful. It's an opportunity to see deeply inside, to illuminate the shadows that want to come into the light.

How I Kicked My Sugar Habit

I'm a sugar sensitive person. While my husband can enjoy a bowl of ice cream, and feel great, here's what happens when I eat sweets:  I eat the whole gallon, bag of candy, or cake until it's gone. Like an alcholic, once I start, I can't stop:  I crave sugar incessantly, desiring more and more of my "fix," while riding an emotional roller coaster of mood swings and depression.

Not fun.

For many years, I've known this truth about myself. I'll abstain from sugar for months, and then give in to a pie or cookie and start binging all over again.

When I don't eat sugar, I feel fantastic:  my moods, blood sugar, and emotions are stable. I don't suffer from cravings. So why do I eat it, besides the fact that sugar is ingrained in every holiday, outing, or celebration? Because I feel deprived; or I want to join others in a birthday celebration. Or I justify that I can handle sugar, just this time, because I feel so good (forgetting that the reason why I feel so good is because I'm not eating sugar.)

So I'll have a piece of cake. And then cake turns into granola the next day, to raisins the next, to ice cream, brownies, and candy the next, until, months later, I feel so awful and am so thoroughly disgusted that I resolve to stop eating sugar again. Then I go through the trying, painful detox period until I'm finally sugar free.

I have gone on and off sugar so many times that I've lost count; at least a dozen times over the past 8 years. But this spring, after one too many sugar binges, I embraced a new truth about myself:  I can't eat sugar. Ever.

I didn't want to accept this. I tried eating sugar moderately for years, without success. I wanted to think that, like a normal person, I could enjoy a sweet treat every now and then. But this is not my truth. I had to get to the point that my sugar binges were making me so miserable that the alternative, abstinence, looked appealing.

Here's what woke me up: 

I can't live the life I want to create for myself if I'm binging on sugar. I can't be the parent (my children joke how sugar turns me into witch Mommy), wife, woman (it's really hard to feel good about your body and your femininity when you feel sick and bloated from overeating), writer, or friend that I want to be while I'm depressed and eating sugar out of control.

It became a question of sugar, or my life.

I chose life.

I don't crave sugar now. Really. It's a no brainer for me.  When we made chocoloate cupcakes for my son's birthday a few weeks ago, the sickeningly sweet smell of the cupcakes made me sick.

Abstaining from sugar doesn't deprive my spirit, but nurtures it. Avoiding my life purpose because I'm sugar addicted, however, does. An easy choice, after all.

Create a vacuum.

This past January, I felt inspired to rekindle my love for fashion. I read several books by stylists and makeover gurus to help me rediscover my style. Based on their recommendations, I ruthlessly purged my closet of clothes that were unflattering, the wrong color or the wrong style for me. I willlowed my closet down to a sliver of its former self:  two pairs of jeans, four pairs of pants, a few skirts, shirts, sweaters, and tees.

Now I'm putting together a simple, elegant, mix and match wardrobe that makes me feel fantastic. I take my time, waiting to buy what I really want, as I find pieces and can afford them, as opposed to buying something because it's on sale. (Nearly all my sale items ended up in the give away pile, anyway.) As unexpected gifts arrive in my life---a purse from a friend; a gift certificate; the perfect dress for a bargain price---I add them to my closet, filling the gap.

Right now I'm reading books by Catherine Ponder, one of the pioneers of prosperity thinking. She speaks about the importance of creating a vacuum:  getting rid of the stuff in your life that no longer serves you in order to make room for what you do want.

It feels scary to create a vacuum. When I emptied my closet, I panicked, wondering what I would have left to wear. (It ultimately didn't matter, as I wore my yoga pants day in and day out while caring for my newborn son.) I also reminded myself that I never wore 80% of the clothes that I gave away, and I didn't feel great when I wore the remaining 20%. 

Now that I'm out of my yoga pants, I have yet to walk around town naked; I have plenty of options. It's actually easier to get dressed because my closet only has my favorites; not the compromise purchases.

Cleaning out my closet has snowballed into other areas of my life. I gave away four boxes of books to the library; books that helped me at one time, but that I no longer needed or referenced. Someone might be looking for the very same book that is gathering dust on my bookshelf.

I found new homes for knick knacks and decorative items that I had grown tired of or no longer used. My mother-in-law was looking for nearly the very same mirror that I'd stored in my basement. Even things I had bought as tokens of my spirituality---a Namaste stone I had bought from a catalog---I passed onto someone else. I no longer felt attached to them.

When I hold onto things too tightly, it's an indication that I'm acting out of fear:  Instead of trusting in the abundance of the universe to supply what I need, I'm adopting a scarcity belief that there's not enough to go around. Or I'm fearing that I'll feel lost, like I have nothing to wear, or a plain house, without a zillion options.

But there is enough to go around. I've never lacked for clothes or a comfortable home.

There is nothing wrong with wanting beautiful things. In fact, I cleaned out my closet precisely because I love beautiful things, and I want a closet teeming with them. The paradox, though, is thus:  the more content I am with what I own, the less attached I am to my stuff. And the less attached I am to my stuff, the easier it is for me to manifest what I want.

The lag effect

I'm an avid reader of self help and spirituality books. One theme that I've been hearing over and over again is the law of attraction:  how what you focus on and think about expands. (This idea was most famously expressed in the film The Secret, although many others have been espousing the same principles for decades.)

I find much comfort in the idea that your thoughts co-create your reality. I embrace this idea because it means that my life isn't a passive endeavor, something that merely happens to me. Rather, I am a positive, proactive force who can alter the circumstances of my life.

When I was depressed and in the pit, I resisited taking anti-depressants because I intuitively knew that my problem wasn't just biochemical. I knew that my thinking and my beliefs were contributing to, if not causing, my unhappiness. I wanted to dig.

I read, and I read, searching for ways to change my thinking. I filled up a multitude of pages in my journal, because putting my thoughts on paper allows me to see my life as an observer, not as a participant. I found a counselor whose thougthful ear acted as a great sieve, filtering my beliefs so that I could choose new, more empowering attitudes.

As my thinking changed, my beliefs changed. As my beliefs changed, my behaviors changed. And as my behaviors changed, my life changed.

Very, very slowly.

I was puzzled by this, because I assumed all the unraveling I had done on my body image, self esteem, self worth, and shame would make a huge dent in my unhappiness. Instead, I felt exhausted from facing so many of my demons, without any tangible benefit.

Only later, in retrospect, was I able to appreciate what I've termed the lag effect:  the distance between a new set of beliefs and the resulting changes in your physical life. While I had uncovered the seeds of my unhappiness, I hadn't given my new beliefs enough time to take root. In their book "Ask and It Is Given," Esther and Jerry Hicks point out that what you're seeing in your life today was created by your thoughts from yesterday. In other words, what you're seeing now in your health, happiness, abundance, or beauty is due to your thoughts and resulting behaviors from a year, six months, or a week ago. Your current thoughts are creating your future.

Why? Because we live in a physical universe. Change takes time.

When I decided to love my body, it took years for me to attain the self acceptance I desired. Changing my self-sacrificing behaviors took many months, as well. When I'm discouraged about my present circumstances, I remind myself that it wasn't that long ago that I could barely get out of bed in the morning.

I've come a long way.

And the best part? There's so much more up ahead.

Be the leader of your life

"The way you treat yourself sets the standard for others."

- Sonya Friedman

Yesterday evening my husband took the baby for a ride in the bike trailer while my other children attended a library program. I relished the idea of an hour to myself to browse through magazines or look for a novel to read. I settled into a chair only to be interrupted ten minutes later by a friend of my husband's. We ended up talking for 20 minutes, and then I introduced him to a neighbor, and then my son wanted help finding a library book. Before I knew it, the library was closing; my reading time, over.

Instead of feeling invigorated by an opportunity to care for myself, I left the library feeling angry and irritated at myself. Why did I engage others in conversation when I wanted quiet time to read? (I didn't want to appear rude.) Why didn't I say, "No" when my son asked for help? (It felt too selfish.) Why didn't I protect and harbor my alone time? (I didn't feel like it mattered enough to say no to other tasks.)

Living inauthentically hurts. When I say "Yes" when I want to say "No,"  when I commit to things out of a sense of duty or obligation, when I put others' needs above my own on a consistent basis, I feel icky inside, as if I am slowly killing my spirit. It feels like the death of a thousand knives, one tiny pinprick at a time; until one day I wake up, seething with resentment for giving, giving, giving without honoring my needs.

I'm reading Christiane Northrup's book Mother Daughter Wisdom right now. Her common refrain is that suppressing your true feelings, and sacrificing yourself for others, causes a festering that eventually manifests in the physical body as illness or depression.

I know this is true for me. Depression is often referred to as anger turned inward. When I woke up from my depression a few years ago, I had to uncover and face all the anger that I had buried. I had to write a new script for my role as wife, mother, daughter, and friend. It was hard to stand up for myself, especially since I had taught the people in my life how to treat me. They were content to keep things as they were, with my self sacrificing.

One component of self care is being the leader of your life:  setting boundaries of what you will and won't do for others. I thought I had made significant progress in this area, but my experience yesterday evening demonstrated that, while I may say "No" with the big things, I still need help guarding my spirit on the little things.

Today I will flex my "No" muscle on the little things. I am not selfish, rude, inconsiderate, uncompassionate, or a bad Mommy/friend/neighbor when I protect my spirit, even on something as minute as choosing to converse with an acquaintance. I am merely recognizing that minutes add up to hours, hours to days, days to years. If I'm not careful, betraying myself in tiny ways adds up to a lifetime. 

Give yourself a day off.

Yesterday was Sunday, a traditional day of rest for many. Too often, though, my Sundays aren't restful, but serve as a catch-all, make-up day for the tasks that I didn't accomplish during the week. I tackle the laundry pile, change sheets, bathe children, make spreadsheets for my husband's business, or weed the garden. The problem with this scenario is that I never have a respite from my to do list:  there is never time to just be; to rest.

As an experiment, I decided to change the tone of my Sundays. There are some tasks that I need to do everyday, no matter the day of the week:  nurse my baby, cook/eat, and put my children to bed.

But most of the chores that I was tackling on Sundays---like grocery shopping, yard work, and bill paying---could easily wait until Monday, even if the fridge is getting bare. I can also alter some tasks to make them simpler. Yes, I have to eat, but instead of cooking major meals, my family can eat leftovers, cook for themselves, or have grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner.

I notice a different tempo to my weeks when I use Sundays as a rest day. Yesterday I took a long nap with my baby, spent an afternoon with friends at a barbeque, and talked to my family on the phone. Except for making my bed and assembling a salad for the party, I didn't tackle any housework. I even took a break from the computer; which meant abstaining from writing or checking my email.

My internal taskmaster was trying it's best to push me towards something more practical, but I woke up refreshed and full of energy this morning, instead of feeling worn out at the beginning of the week.

As a Mom, and my family's household manager, it's hard to get a day off. Yet, why can't I give myself a vacation? My children will not suffer if I take 24 hours to rest. They will survive if they don't get a bedtime story, a home cooked meal, or a bath.

Give yourself a day off. Take a sabbath, a day of rest. Reserve one day a week for self-care, relaxation, and fun.

The world won't end. I promise.

 

Get dressed.

I work from home, I homeschool, and I am nursing a baby:  three valid reasons why many days I don't get dressed. Yes, I put on clothes, but that usually consists of sweats and a baseball hat. I rarely take the time to shower, style my hair, and put on make-up.

This past weekend I was in Las Vegas. While I was there, I showered and groomed myself every morning. I didn't think much about it until I got home, and slipped back into my old sweats routine.

I noticed a significant nosedive in my attitude and confidence. As much as I'd like to think that I'm becoming unattached to my appearance, I feel better when I take an extra twenty minutes to present my best self to the world.

This reminds me of a comment a woman said to me, when we were talking about feeling like frump Mom:  "No one sees me anyway, so I don't bother."

This winter I read Nothing to Wear, by Joe Lupo and Jesse Garza, when I decided to overhaul my closet. They pointed out why feeling fabulous does matter, even when you're alone:  "The self you see in the mirror...will affect how you feel about yourself, and life in general, all day long."

Just as we decorate our homes for beauty, style and comfort, as a refuge from the stresses of living, it's okay to decorate our bodies, the haven of our most important asset: our spirit.

So get dressed. Make your bed. (Staying in a hotel also reminded me of the joy of living in a tidy environment, where the beds are made, the bathroom clean, and the clutter tucked away into suitcases and closets.) Set the table when you eat, with a linen napkin, instead of eating in the car or standing up in the kitchen. Paint your nails. Find an outfit that makes you feel smashing. You'll feel better. I guarantee it.

Mothering the Mother, Mothering Ourselves

"A loving, nurturing mother tends to become the very center of her family's health and happiness...This nurturing role can be enormously fulfilling. It can also deteriorate into martyrdom if a mother gives her children and spouse the love and care she doesn't feel that she herself is worthy of receiving."
                                -Christiane Northrup, "Mother-Daughter Wisdom"

I am a grown woman, with four children of my own, and yet their are times when I say outloud, "I want my Mom." This is usually when I'm sick, overwhelmed, exhausted, or worn to a raveling, as Beatrix Potter put it. This is often when I announce to my family, like Alexander and his terrible, no good, very bad day, that I am moving to Australia. Or Tahiti. Somewhere where no one says, "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy..."

When I'm pining for my mom, it's a sign that I need nurturing. I want someone to take care of me. I want sympathy. I want to feel like a sick seven year old who is indulged with attention.

It has taken me many years to learn that the only person who can mother me is me.

This weekend, we honor and celebrate the gift of motherhood. Being a mom is a privilege. But it is also a lot of work.

As we embark on the task of helping along those young souls that have been entrusted to our care, let us remember to mother ourselves. Nurturing myself isn't solely about making sure that my tank is full, so that I have a reservoir from which to help others. That's a part of it. But my children are more than empty vessels to be filled.

Rather, I can only give to others what I have inside myself. Author Wayne Dyer, in his book "Real Magic," uses this analogy:  squeezing an orange will only give you orange juice. No matter how hard you try, you can't make lemonade, or apple juice.

I will not have patience with my children's shortcoming unless I am patient with my own. I can't give my children unconditional love unless I give myself unconditional love. I can't be empathetic with my children's pain unless I show myself empathy, too.

Mothering myself means honoring my needs, from the inside out, so that I can endow those gifts---kindness, joy, compassion, tenderness, love---both to my children, and to myself.

I am worthy of praise.

"Your playing small does not serve the world."

-Marianne Williamson

Historically, I am terrible at accepting compliments. I've deflected praise with self deprecating comments (Yes, but you should see how bad I am at ______); justifications (It's just a thrift store bargain); an aside (The house only looks this nice when the cleaning guys come); or even an insult (Thank God for Spanx:  they cover up the fat rolls.)

These are all insidious little ways of denying my goodness; of proclaiming myself unworthy of love or admiration. As Marianne Williamson points out, what good comes out of false humility? Who am I serving by putting myself down?

It is not vain or egoic to thank someone for complimenting your house, your outfit, your beauty, your children, your dinner, your talents, your success, your body, or your creativity. You can even agree with them. Celebrate when your gifts are noticed:  it's the universe saying, "Thank you for sharing." Let your light shine.

Backtracking your way to change

I recently made an effort to get to bed earlier. As I have an infant who sleeps and nurses with me for most of the night, it's crucial that I get as many hours of sleep as possible. Lately, I'd been feeling overwhelmed, cranky, short tempered, and despaired:  all signs of sleep deprivation.

Last Monday, I was determined to be in bed before 10:30. But after reading my children stories, tucking them into bed, and getting my baby to sleep, it was nearly 10 p.m. I didn't climb into bed until nearly 11:00, and then spent 30 minutes reading a magazine. I woke up tired again the next morning.

I tried again the next day. This time I did a little better----stories and snuggles were done by 9:30. But that still didn't leave me enough time to read and enjoy my bedtime routine before 10:30. Strike two.

Then I thought about why I wasn't succeeding in my goal. The problem wasn't getting to bed earlier; the problem was getting my children to bed sooner so that I could have some alone time to myself and still get to bed at a decent hour. But getting my children to bed on time wasn't the problem; it was getting dinner served by 6 p.m. so there was adequate time for stories, snuggles, and connecting as a family before bed. But serving dinner earlier wasn't the real problem; it was stopping work by 4:30 so that I could have ample time to cook.

If I wanted to get to bed by 10:30, I had to stop working by 4:30. That was the beginning of the chain that led to late bed times:  I had to backtrack my way to change. Since that a ha moment, I've implemented several steps that help me finish working by 4:30:  I set a timer for an end of the work day. I shortened my to do list, lowering my expectations for what I could reasonably accomplish in one day. I set up routines for my older children, whom I homeschool, so they could work without my guidance.

I haven't made it to bed by 10:30 every night, and dinner isn't on the table every night by 6:00, but I'm getting there, one step at a time.

I am open to loving guidance.

As a child, my mom used to joke that our house was filled with four Chiefs, and no Indians. None of us---my mom, dad, brother, or myself---liked following orders. I think this is true of everyone:  who does like being told what to do?

Today, years later, I still prefer to be a chief. When my husband or mom gives me advice or instruction, I often bristle and overreact. Why? For years, I let strong willed people override my intuition, ideas, and preferences. I let people verbally abuse me; I committed myself to things I didn't want to do, and I went along with things I didn't like, even over something as simple as what movie to rent.

Now that I've taken back my power, and I make my desires known, sometimes I let the pendulum swing too far the other way. There are times when friends, family or a counselor has an idea that could help me. But if I am feeling hypersensitive about being corrected, or my autonomy feels threatened, I will resist their advice or help----simply because they are telling me what to do.

Why is this? In Eckhart Tolle's latest book, "A New Earth," he blames our ego:  it feels threatened by any loss of power, and will assert itself to make sure that it is "fed."

I've had several lessons in the past few weeks that have illustrated how important it is for me to relax when others are trying to help me. I was complaining to my husband about my inability to lose my baby weight, when he offered his plan to tone up and trim down:  two exercise sessions a day, no snacking at night, eating breakfast first thing in the morning, adding push ups, pull ups, squats, and ab work into my daily activities, and so on. Instead of feeling encouraged by his help, I was resistant:  How would I find the time to do so much exercise? How would I be able to eat breakfast right away and still get my son to school on time, the baby nursed, and my other children fed? It felt overwhelming; just thinking about his plan made me exhausted. I had 10,000 excuses why I couldn't do it.

Louise Hay says that resistance is the first step in adopting any change. If you're resisting an idea, it's a good indicator that it could help you.

Remembering this, and realizing that I had nothing to lose, I decided to try my husband's plan. All went well until I stepped on the scale a week later:  no progress. I was so frustrated I cried. My husband gently reminded me that change takes time. Give it a month, he said, and then see where you are. He was vindicated a week later when I saw a two pound loss.

This was a great reminder to allow changes to manifest over time. To give ideas a chance before rejecting them. To follow through on a suggestion, even if I don't like it.

The world is full of good ideas. Many could help me, if my heart is open to listen.

Your Pit Kit

I spent seven years in various stages of depression, resentment, and unhappiness. I describe my depression in this way:  "being in the pit." Imagine an overwhelming sense of despair, sadness, and hatred of my life. That's the prison I built for myself.

There are other names for the pit:  the dark night of the soul, the dumps, the blues, wanting to run away from home. I think we all have a place of discouragement, frustration, unhappiness, or anger that keeps us from living joyfully. I think we all tend to revisit the same place, in the way that we repeat our story (the same mistake over and over again) until we create a new one.

My journey out of depression was the standard two steps forward, one step back. I would make significant progress only to feel myself sliding back towards the pit. When I felt those heavy, dark clouds descending, I panicked, knowing what was to come.

During that time of transition, I assembled an "emergency pit kit." Just as I keep emergency supplies in my car in case of a flat tire or breakdown, I stash tools for when my equilibrium slips, and I need extra support. Here's what I have in my kit:

• A homeopath, chiropractor, and my midwife/OB. I prefer to use natural remedies instead of prescription medicines, yet I use professionals to help me find the right mixture and dosage of supplements.
  
• Bach flower remedies. These flower essences are tailored to specific problems; there's a remedy for body acceptance (Crab apple) as well as one for quieting the mind (White chestnut)--39 in all. I feel instant relief when I take them.
• A girlfriend chat or pep talk with my husband. Sometimes what I most need is getting out of my own head. It's usually my thinking that causes me pain, and talking out my problems, or just enjoying a good laugh, is the surest way to steer my thinking onto a more positive course.
• Movie therapy. A feel good movie is another way to escape my mind for a while.
• Exercise. Like our dog, I always feel better after a run, even if it's only a quick 10 minute loop. I relieve stress, stir up some endorphins, and enjoy the fresh air.
• Time away from my children. If I'm feeling really desperate, a night away from my children is usually in order.
• Sleep. Everything is better in the morning.
• Self care. This can be a massage, going out for dinner, or any treat that makes me feel nurtured and supported.
• A counselor. Jeannie's wise and objective listening ear has gotten me out of many funks.

Over time, the pit has exerted less and less power over me. I am able to relax when I feel sad or unhappy:  a bad mood doesn't mean I'm depressed, only that I'm having a bad day. This is partially due to having backup, my kit. I know I won't fall into despair again, because I can prevent a bad day from worsening into a bad year.

Writing a New Money Script

"One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats."

-Iris Murdoch

I knew a woman in Georgia who was the daughter of sharecroppers. She spent the first years of her life wearing clothes made out of flour sacks and living in a one room tin shack. Gradually, her parents' hard work pulled the family out of poverty, and they purchased a small home. One day, her father surprised her with a very expensive set of encyclopedias. When she questioned him, he said, "Edith, money is supposed to make your life better. It doesn't do you any good if you don't spend it."

That story has stayed with me over the years because of its contrast:  a man who had little, yet who felt rich. Why? Because he used his money to bring himself joy.

One of my biggest issues about money is releasing my obligation to be practical. For many years, my husband and I struggled to cover the basics while we built our business. I couldn't afford to indulge my desires for beautiful clothes or new furniture; I was trying to cover the rent and groceries.

The problem is that as my financial circumstances changed, I held onto my outdated beliefs. The truth was I could use money to bring myself pleasure:  a manicure, fresh flowers, or a new purse. But I wasn't giving myself permission to do so. I was using an outdated script.

I know there are some women who overspend or use shopping as a way to ease life's pain. But in my experience, that is the exception, and not the rule. Most women I know need to relax and give themselves freedom to spend their money in ways that brings them joy.

My solution was to give myself a monthly allowance that I could use however I wanted. Now I don't have to wait for my birthday or Christmas to get something new. The irony is that I usually don't spend it all. Giving myself permission to buy just for fun has relaxed my approach towards money, in the same way that giving yourself permission to enjoy "forbidden" foods stops overeating.

What would you do with $50, or $100? How can you treat yourself? Would you like to rewrite your money script?

The Mommy fund

"...The best way to teach my children to live a fulfilling life is not by sacrificing my life. It's through living a fulfilling life myself."

-Christiane Northrup

In my last post I wrote about supporting yourself. I have found that supporting yourself takes two forms: creating a supportive environment in your choices and asking others to help you fill in the gaps.

Here are some ways I make my environment supportive:

• I set boundaries on certain tasks. I work from home and homeschool my two oldest children. This makes for a flexible day, but if I'm not careful, I end up schooling at 5 p.m and working at midnight. So I set a rule that I stop working at 5:30 p.m. I am also unavailable for tutoring and school help after 3 p.m. This gives me a sense of closure on certain tasks:  what is unfinished can be completed tomorrow, not after dinner.
• I exercise alone. I love being with people, but I need time alone to recharge my batteries. If I exercise with others I miss the meditative space that I get from a run.
• I keep healthy "treat" food in the house. I feel terrible when I eat sugar, yet will eat it when I'm feeling deprived if I don't have an alternative. I keep my pantry stashed with nut butters, nuts, and popcorn so I have a healthier option for my body.

But most importantly:  recognize that all rules are flexible. Last night I worked at 11 p.m., because the project was critical. If you have to break the rules, break them, but be relaxed about it:  you're supporting yourself by making an exception. 

I guarantee that making self care your top priority will change your life. Here's my newest idea for self care:  I think all mothers should set up a "Mommy fund." Just as you invest for your children's education, or retirement, invest in yourself. Why? If mom isn't happy, no one's happy. A mother is the hub of the family:  everything revolves around her well being.

So set aside money for your care:  cleaning help, take out meals when you need a break from cooking, babysitters so you can exercise or take a nap, or an errand runner. What do you really dislike doing? Is there someone you can hire to help you do it?

If your spouse resists, or if you feel unworthy of spending money on yourself because you're not "working," think of it this way:  People spend money to make their working life more comfortable (clothes for the office, dry cleaning, a briefcase for transporting materials to the office, homey office decor, and take out lunches.) Why shouldn't you spend money to make your life easier?

If you feel that you can't afford a Mommy fund, barter, trade and seek out creative solutions that don't require much money:  Is there a Mom's day out service at a church that you can use? Can you trade childcare with a friend for alone time? Would you be willing to cook for a college student in exhange for babysitting?

I've cooked for Montessori tuition. I do bookkeeping and accounting work in exhange for housecleaning. I pay my children to do extra chores:  they love the extra money and I get help. 

The key is the intention: let the universe know that you are looking for support, and keep your eyes open for opportunities. Then, when you get a hunch, act on it:  "always be on the lookout for the big idea that can change your life." (Noman Vincent Peale)

Two ways to ask for help

Asking others for help can be tricky. We feel vulnerable when we ask for support. We are afraid the other person will say no. We feel guilty for burdening someone else with our needs.

Here's my favorite way to ask for support:  "You can say yes or you can say no. I need help with _______. Can you help me?"

I love this because it gives the other person an option to say no. By giving them an out, you are able to relax and know that if they say yes, they mean it. I'll go one step further and say something that sounded blasphemous the first time I thought it:  if you ask for help, and someone says yes, only to regret it later, that is their issue, not yours. It is not your job to manage other people's feelings or lives. Your job is to be an excellent receiver of the help that comes your way.

I also use this tip (from Marshall Rosenberg's work with NVC, non violent communication):  Are you willing to_________? This way of asking also gives someone room to choose. The catch, though, is to be unattached to the outcome:  you have to be as accepting of a yes as a no. Otherwise, it's not a request; it's a demand. If they say no, you can follow up with this question: What are you willing to do?

A friend can't watch your children tomorrow, but she can watch them next week. Or maybe she can't help with childcare but is willing to run an errand for you.

You'll never know, though, unless you ask.

Asking for help

I had scheduled a dentist appointment for myself that was a 45 minute drive away, over a mountain pass. As I would also be combining other errands on my trip---Target, the health food co-op, spring clothes shopping for my girls---I loaded the car the night before so I would have plenty of time in the morning.

Yet with getting my son to school, making breakfast, and nursing my baby, I was running behind schedule. I had the thought that I should ask my husband to run my son to school so that I could have an extra 15 minutes to get dressed and eat breakfast. But I didn't want to bother him.

Needlless to say, the drive over the mountains was icy and slow, and then I got lost trying to remember how to get to the dentist's office. I rushed in the door, stressed and agitated, only to find that they couldn't clean my teeth because I was late.

I nearly cried I felt so discouraged. I had made this huge effort only to fall short. Since my son's birth, I often feel as if I am pulled in too many directions:  the feeling that everything is only half finished, or done badly. I feel rushed, late, tired, irritable, snappy, and spacey. I think of my dear friend who is juggling three children under five and said of her recent sickness, "I"m so tired I was hoping my doctor would put me in the hospital just so I could rest."

It's obvious that we both need support.

Today I can laugh about my dentist fiasco. I can also think of several things I could have done differently:

• I could've asked my husband to take my son to school.
• I could've arranged for another mom to take my son that morning in order to give myself some extra time.
• I could schedule an appointment later in the day.
• I could find a dentist in my town so I don't have to drive.
• I could get my teeth cleaned less often.
• I could've skipped breakfast so that I had more time.
• I could've forgetten a shower and worn a baseball hat.

Now, the last three choices are a bit silly. I like having clean teeth, I feel better when I eat breakfast, and I prefer having a shower when I'm going out. But I include them as options to prove a point:

We always have a choice. We often tell ourselves we don't have a choice, but we do. Choices makes us feel powerful, because they demonstrate that we are able to find ways to support ourselves:

• You can create your own entree at a restaurant.
• You can send your children outside to play to garner 10 minutes peace.
• You can buy bigger clothing when you gain weight.
• You can let the answering machine get the phone.
• You can buy take out when you don't feel like cooking.
• You can say no to a party invitation.

So, why didn't I ask my husband for help yesterday? I was afraid he would say no. I knew he had a full plate and I didn't want to overburden him. I thought I could do it all.

But, as I learned, I couldn't. None of us can.

We are worthy of support, just as we are worthy of joy, love, or abundance. We deserve help just because
we are alive on planet Earth:  we don't have to be sick, or in a difficult circumstance (a new baby, or financial hardship, for example) to "deserve" it. How can you support yourself today?

Is your environment supportive for change?

I believe that loving your body is primarily an inside job. But we also live in a physical universe. While you are changing the internal environment of your mind, I think it's just as important to make your external environment as supportive as possible.

Why? Ignoring your inner critic is hard enough without giving it ammunition. As you move from body hatred to body love, your newfound acceptance will be a fragile, delicate thing. It will be like a young plant in need of sheltering and care. So in the beginning, treat yourself kindly, and don't make accepting your body any harder than it needs to be. Over time, you can relax in your confidence.

Here are some things that supported me in my journey towards body love:

1. Redirect talk about dieting or body bashing with your girlfriends. You can change the subject. You can find someone else to talk to. Or you can kindly say, "I'm trying to accept my body. Talking about dieting makes me a little neurotic right now. Can we talk about something else?" Who knows? Maybe you'll find a source of support.

2. Throw away fashion magazines or catalogs that endorse emaciated women as the beauty ideal. If you're an alcoholic in recovery, it makes sense to limit your exposure to alcohol. Similiary, if looking at skinny, airbrushed women makes you nuts, let them go for now.

3. Weigh yourself less. When the number's up, you feel bad. When it's down, you feel good. I want you to feel good all the time, no matter the number.

4. Eat until you’re satisfied. It’s hard to be your best self if you’re starving. Julia Ross’ book "The Diet Cure" is an excellent discussion of how dieting disrupts all of your body’s systems, and not just your metabolism. Dieting can lead to food obsession, depression, eating disorders, and a negative body image. Contrast that list with the benefits of honoring your body’s needs for nourishment: energy, self care, health, stable moods, clarity of thought, and satiation.

5. Buy clothing that fits. Have you, like me, bought something a size too small, because you don’t want to buy a larger size and change your perception of yourself? Or you buy a smaller size with the intention of dieting to fit into it? If you’re wearing clothing that pinches, you're going to feel fat. Your body isn't the wrong size; your clothes are.

6. Channel your childhood. Remember that feeling of being completely at home in your body? Not being concerned about sucking in this or that body part? Running or playing simply because it was fun? Find a beautiful picture of yourself as a little girl and use it as a reminder of those carefree feelings.

7. Ignore the latest fad diets. There’s something magnetic about the women’s magazine at the grocery store checkout line that proclaims, “Lose 10 pounds in 10 days.” Resist taking a peek.

8. Focus on your body's abilities instead of its size. I know I feel more loving toward my body when I am enjoying its physical pleasures:  going for a run, taking a bike ride with my children, or making love with my husband.

9. Limit mirror exposure. If you are constantly checking your appearance throughout the day, you will most likely end up obsessing about gray hairs, a bad hair day, and the size of your butt. Looking at your butt in a mirror doesn't make it any smaller:  I know. I've tried.

10. Shop for need. Clothes shopping can be fun, unless you end up berating yourself for your big hips, flabby thighs, or the five extra pounds you're carrying this spring. Try spending less time in dressing rooms until you can brave the flourescent lights with confidence.

And above all, recognize when you need to call in the troops. A real turning point came for me when I asked God to remove my desire to be skinny. Is there a burden that you want to surrender? Ask. There's a universe of support waiting to help.

Accepting our humanness

"The best bridge between hope and despair is a good night's sleep."

-E. Joseph Cossman

For the past ten days I've been up until 1 a.m., writing for First Ourselves, developing a new product, and working for my husband's e-commerce company. Then, upon climbing into bed, my infant son would wake up, wanting to nurse. It's no wonder that several days of this pattern preceded a huge attitude dive. I felt overwhelmed, stressed, and anxious. I was irritable at my children, resentful towards my baby, and anxious about money. My relaxed attitude about my extra baby weight gave way to feelings of fat and dumpiness.

What was going on? I questioned myself, wondering how I had lost my equilibrium. I spent several days in this funk, until I realized that what I needed was pretty simple:  a good night's sleep. After two nights of an earlier bed time, I felt like myself again.

I share my story because I think women often neglect their basic needs for healthy food, sleep, alone time, and exercise, and then beat themselves up when they feel funky and inside out. I know that if I neglect my body's physical needs, I can fake it for a while. But, ignoring my body for too long only leads to disharmony:  an illness, a sugar binge, stress, cold sores, irritability, and a negative attitude.

I hadn't intended to abuse my body by working late; I was trying to find time free from the interruptions of family, co-workers, and children. Yet my solution backfired. I had to accept that there will always be another thing to do, and that working into the wee hours of the morning won't change this. My to do list will never be done. I may finish one project only to have two more take its place. Tomorrow is another day: will the world end if I do it later? 99% of the time, it won't.

We are human beings. Our beingness means that we respond to spiritual laws. Our humanness means that we respond to physical laws. I believe in using the power of the mind to attract what you want; to focus on the positive; to use gratitude and appreciation to attract your best life. But it's really, really hard to do those things when you are exhausted, tired or hungry.

The next time you are having a fat day, or are losing it with your kids, or feel like running away from home, maybe you don't need an attitude adjustment. Maybe you just need a nap.

I give myself the tools I need to succeed.

"No day is so bad it can't be fixed with a nap."

-Carrie Snow

One aspect of being kind to yourself is giving yourself tools to support your growth and well-being. Just as an electric drill turns installing closet shelving from an overwhelming chore to a manageable one (I speak from experience), the right tools also save you time, energy and frustration.

I do accounting work for our e-commerce business. When I had my son, it became difficult to nurse and work at the same time. I thought of buying myself a Boppy, a nursing pillow, but resisted for several weeks. I didn't want to waste the money if I didn't end up using it. I finally bought the $30 pillow and don't know what I did without it. I can prop my son on it, nurse away, and have both hands free for typing.

I think of other times I've thought, 'I don't really need help," like waiting to call the chiropractor until I was in my-back-hurts-so-bad-now-I-can't-walk pain. Or refusing to order take out because it was too expensive (yet feeling resentful about cooking without a break.) Denying myself support wasn't good discipline, but unneeded punishment.

I had a turning point when my son was two months old and I was washing cloth diapers. Maximized with taking care of a fussy baby, three other children, working in two businesses, and homeschooling, I realized that I didn't want to do cloth diapers. I felt so free when I bought a pack of disposables, because I was making a decision to treat myself kindly, even though my mom gave me the diapers as a generous baby gift.

Here are my new guidelines for living:  It's okay to make choices that add ease to my daily life. (Who says my potluck contribution has to be homemade?) I can hire people to help me with tasks I detest. (I love having cleaning help, especially since mopping floors turns me into witch mommy.) I give myself permission to spend money simply for convenience. (I'd much rather pay $15 in shipping costs than go clothes shopping with four children.) I seek out solutions that minimize those daily, pesky aggravations. (A garage bench for putting on shoes has made a huge difference in getting six people in and out of our house.)

Sometimes, I choose unwisely. I bought a colic remedy for my baby when he was six weeks old, and it didn't help his tummy problems. I've hired home contractors that did poor work. But that's okay. Sometimes it takes several tries to find a solution.

It feels good to make decisions that support myself. I feel nourished having books, health care providers, and counselors I can turn to when I need help. I feel rich and abundant when I choose joy over drudgery. These feelings allow me to be my best self with my circle of influence:  my family, co-workers, neighbors and friends. And that is doing all I can.

Are you living lightly?

There's a line in an Indigo Girls' song, "and the best thing you've ever done for me/is to help me take my life less seriously/it's only life after all."

I have a tender heart, thin skin, and am sensitive about being sensitive. Which means I'm not always able to laugh at myself. The other day, when my daughter told me that my belly still looks pregnant, my first instinct was to cry. Is my stomach really that big?

Then I realized:  so what. Do I love myself any less for having a tummy? No. Am I ugly because I have a tummy? No. Am I going to let my imperfections, shortcomings, and peccadilloes ruin my day? No.

In that case, I can laugh. I can laugh and tell her that I earned my tummy with four pregnancies. I can be proud of my badge of honor, proof that I cared to bring four wonderful people into the world.

Life is a comedy of errors. When you lock your keys in the car while the car is running, it's funny. When your son spills five pounds of frozen blueberries on the carpet, it's funny. When you're mad and slam the bread down on the counter, making a big mess of a fantastic loaf of ciabatta, it's funny.

And when I find myself making the same mistake, over and over again, I can dissolve into tears, regret, shame and guilt, or I can chuckle:  Ha! I did it again.

Louise Hay writes in her book, You Can Heal Your Life, that cleaning out your "stuff" (your issues), should be no different than cleaning your house. Do you get angry at the dust on the bookshelves? Do you berate the sinkful of dirty dishes? No. You just clean them. Similarly, clean your stuff with a sense of lightness and ease.

The rewards of living lightly are many:  joy, mirth, stress relief, and connection with others. People who are able to laugh at themselves are a pleasure to be around. They have an ease and unselfconsciousness that makes others feel comfortable in their presence. Their acceptance of themselves, foibles included, implies acceptance of others' faults, too.

Laughing at my neuroses was like throwing water on the wicked witch. Their power to beat me up with thoughts of shoulda, coulda, woulda shrank and dissipated. I'm not always able to take myself lightly. Taking myself too seriously is a good indicator that I need a nap, a walk, or a chat with a friend. If I'm still feeling inside out, I can remember two things:  this, too, shall pass. And tomorrow is another day. Hopefully, I can laugh about it in the morning.

I am open to my good.

I spent years as a Mommy martyr, putting my needs below everyone else's (including the dog's.) My husband would encourage me to go out with friends, take a run, or ask for help. But I always had a reason why I couldn't. Here is just a partial list of the excuses I've used to deny myself support and joy:

• I may not have fun.
• I'm too tired.
• The baby will cry if I'm gone.
• I feel guilty accepting help without reciprocating.
• I don't have the time.
• Other women don't like me.
• It's too expensive.
• It's not that important. I can make do. I can do without.
• I'd rather stay home.
• That book is too "woo woo." It makes me uncomfortable.
• I'm afraid.
• I don't feel worthy.

This was not a fun way to live. I was depressed, resentful, and restless. Family and friends wanted to help, but I was uncomfortable accepting their love, denying myself the very thing I needed. I was attracted to Buddhist and New Thought writers, yoga, and chanting. But my Christian roots held me back. I was betwixt and between:  uncomfortable with Christianity and uncomfortable with the New Age ideas I was exploring. Once I gave myself permission to release beliefs that no longer served me, I was able to embrace my new spirituality, and my healing.

Accepting my good means that I am open to all good that comes my way. It doesn't mean I adopt every belief/book that I read (I chew up the meat and spit out the bones), accept every invitation; or buy everything I want. But if my knee jerk reaction is always a "No," that makes for a miserable and stifled life.

Having an open mind to new ideas and experiences means that sometimes I won't have fun. I may be uncomfortable. I may be disappointed. A healing method may not work for me. But, on the flip side, I may have a great time. I could meet a new friend. I may discover a new author. And I will gain a better sense for what I do want, by perhaps experiencing what I don't.

Today, my tendency is to ask how. How can I squeeze in some exercise today? How can I afford those expensive sandals I'm eyeing? How can I get over this hurdle? By asking how, I'm opening myself up to endless possibilities. I don't have to know the answer. Instead, I'm making myself available to receive the help that the universe wants to give me, as it wants to give to everyone.

What should I eat?

While I was on the diet/binge roller coaster, I pined to eat like a "normal" person:  to sit down to a satisfying, filling meal that brought both pleasure and nourishment. But what is normal? What does a healthy relationship with food look like?

Navigating the literature on nutrition can make the most easy going woman neurotic. Everyone has their pet theory on how to eat:  low carb, low fat, vegan, macrobiotic, raw, whole foods, no laws (eat whatever you want.) It's bad enough that there are 20 different approaches to diet and nutrition; worse when the experts start contradicting one another.

At some point, you have to laugh. As a wellness consultant once told me, "It's only food." We are not talking about nuclear war here. Yet the foods we eat have a direct bearing on how we feel:  our energy, mood, appearance, and body image are all influence by our dietary choices.

I've tried many different ways of eating:  vegan, vegetarian, low carb, high protein, low sugar, whole foods, and the junk food/eat whatever I want diet. From my experiments, I have come up with an eating plan that works for me. Here are my rules for healthy eating:

1. I eat when I'm hungry; I stop when I'm full. Being hungry or wacked out from low blood sugar feels terrible. Too much food makes me feel bloated, stuffed, and sick. So I eat enough food to give me energy, health, and enjoyment. And the next time I feel hungry I eat again.
2. I eat foods that make me feel good. I like a steak every now and then. I like fruits and vegetables. A pizza is a nice treat. I love colorful salads. These things make me feel good, so I eat them. Sugar makes me depressed. Fried eggs give me the willies. Too much corn makes me bloated. So I don't eat them.
3. I eat what I really want. What I want to eat today may be different tomorrow. What I want n the winter may be different than what I crave in the summer. How nice that I can choose; that I don't have to eat the same four things over and over again.
   

That's it. This is how I eat (most of the time, anyway; I still overeat sometimes or eat something gross because I'm too lazy to cook.) The best part about my rules is their flexibility:  the foods that make me feel good now make not work for me at a different time. The foods I prefer may not be ones you like. The rules still apply.

In some ways, following a rigid eating plan would be easier. Freedom is frightening (Will I get fat if I eat carbs? If I can eat what I want, will I eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner?) But giving myself choices is what ultimately removed wacky food obsession from my life. Many experts on food addiction, overeating, and eating disorders share my belief that learning how to eat intuitively is what ultimately cures negative beliefs about food. (See the links and resources page for a book list.)

I hope you find your "normal," and make peace with food. Food obsession is overwhelming, because you face it several times a day, every day, every time you eat, want to eat, or think about eating. Remove this obstacle from your life, and I guarantee you'll feel your spirit soar.

I am releasing my need to control.

I spent years controlling my body and spirit; its appetites (for food, friendship, or love); its appearance (shaving, plucking, overexercising); its curiosities (for spiritual connection and growth.) I was terrified that if I let go---if I gave myself permission to read the New Age spiritual books that called to me; if I ate whenever I was hungry instead of dieting; if I relaxed my parenting standards and allowed my children to fail---then all hell would break lose. I would be obese, join a woo woo cult, and have deadbeat children living in the streets.

Fear kept me bound to perfectionist standards, tied to rigidity. My ego had me convinced that if I gave myself choices, then I would always pick the easy, comfortable route (brownies vs. broccoli): choices that didn't serve me.

But while a lack of choices made decision making easier in the short term (Which is it going to be---salad or salad with that bunless burger?), all it led me to was rebellion and a sugar binge.

Life is just a series of choices, and life will not end (99.9% of the time) if I make a bad one. I will just learn a different lesson.

I release my fear and trust myself to make wise choices.

I am willing to be uncomfortable.

 This is my mantra for 2007. But let me clarify my intention:  by uncomfortable, I am not speaking of pain or suffering. I am speaking of the discomfort of growth.

I began my year with a blow out, painful fight with my mother. Talk about uncomfortable. But while I would have preferred a different venue for change, that argument has cleared the path for a new relationship. After facing that behemoth, I asked myself, "Well, what else can you face this year?"

Shame about my sexuality was the first thing that popped in my mind. (It's a long, private story, so I'll spare you the details.) So I logged onto amazon and bought three sex books. I figure the only way to get over that shame is by facing it, regularly. (My husband, of course, is thrilled.)

Then I saw an ad in the paper advertising an OE (Overeaters Anonymous) meeting. As I still haven't nailed my habit of using sugar for comfort, I decided to be uncomfortable and go. I'm thinking this will lead me to huge breakthroughs in conquering my sugar addiction once and for all.

My mantra has even helped in mundane ways. Last week, I was invited to a girls night out, but my day went horribly, and I couldn't find anything to wear due to 15 extra pregnancy pounds. I nearly gave up and stayed home. Instead, I told myself to be uncomfortable and go. I ended up laughing so hard that night I nearly peed my pants (easy to do after four children) and made a connection with several old friends whom I hadn't seen in several months.

My wise counselor Jeannie says change is initially difficult because it's like "trying to put your pants on backwards." Until new habits or beliefs become routine, you feel anxious and awkward. Being uncomfortable doesn't mean giving up, but is a positive sign that I am moving forward. Or, as author Susan Jeffers said, "Feel the fear and do it anyway."

Daily Acts of Courage: Setting Yourself up for Success

"A most insidious form of fear is that which masquerades as common sense or even wisdom, condemning as foolish, reckless, insignificant, or futile the small, daily acts of courage which help to preserve man’s self respect and inherent human dignity."
-Daw Aung San Suu Kyi

What are your daily acts of courage? How do your honor your truth? How do you set yourself up for success?

Here is what I know about myself:

• I can't have certain foods in the house (sugar!) or I will overeat them. If I buy granola, my daughter hides it so my family can enjoy it without me knowing where it is.
  
• Shopping with children makes me cranky. Shopping in Wal-Mart makes me really cranky.
• I become very irritable when I don't have time to myself.
  
• I need "down time" to connect with my husband and children. Overscheduling my family life with too many activities, lessons, or outings leaves me frazzled.
• If I nurture myself everyday, even if it's as simple as a long shower and shaving my legs, then I am able to maintain a brighter perspective.
• Exercise is my stress reliever. Missing too many walks is disastrous to my mental health (and my patience.)

These are just some of my limits. Recognizing my weaknesses isn't self criticism, but self awareness. By honoring my needs, I pave the way for success. For example, I am trying to be abstinent from sugar. Limiting my exposure to sweet temptations supports me in doing something that is very challenging. It's also okay to recognize that I would rather spend an extra $10 and buy light bulbs and batteries at my local hardware store than shop at a store that makes me irritable.

In Buddha Never Raised Kids & Jesus Didn't Drive Carpool, author Vicki Falcone suggests writing a "happy mommy" list. What things make you a better mother? How do you nurture yourself so that you are available to your children? Sleep, exercise, abstinence from sugar, the outdoors, time with my husband, time with myself, spiritual connection, reading, connecting with friends, one on one time with my children, and taking a shower (actually getting dressed for the day versus hanging out in my sweats or pajamas) are my list.

The first step is recognizing your needs. Then use your courage and your creativity to meet them. It takes courage for me to admit that my willpower sucks when it comes to sugar. I plan for success by avoiding the candy aisle in the grocery store or finding alternatives for those times when I want a "treat" (macadamia nut butter is sinfully yummy.) It takes creativity to figure out how I can exercise when I have a high need baby who wants his Mommy 24/7. My solution? I wear him in a baby carrier and go for walks. It takes compromise to mesh my needs with the rest of my family's. So I meet four needs at once when I walk, as I am outside, exercising, by myself, and connecting with my spirit (I pray and meditate as I wander.)

I don't serve anyone, myself included, when I am cranky, out of sorts, and irritable because I am neglecting my needs. I want to be successful:  to live my best life. I can not live my best life when I am addicted to sugar. I can not live my best life when I am witch Mommy. I can not live my best life when I say yes to everyone else and no to myself.

I am a success every time I honor my needs.

I am an excellent receiver.

The credit for this affirmation goes to T.Harv Ecker,  the author of Secrets of the Millionaire Mind: Mastering the Inner Game of Wealth. My husband and I read (and reread) his book when we were navigating a sea of financial turmoil and change last spring. Ecker's mantra, "I am an excellent receiver," can be applied to more than finances. It's an invitation to accept and honor all good that comes your way, whether it be a penny on the ground, an unexpected rebate, a friend's offer to babysit your children, or a compliment from a stranger.

Giving Generously to Yourself

“One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats.”
-Iris Murdoch

I’m a busy mother of four who works from home. I often go three or four days without “getting dressed,” spending my time in sweats with a baseball cap on my head. After four days of this routine, I feel desperate for a shower, a stylish outfit, a bit of make up and a real hairdo.

I know I’m not alone in feeling dowdy. As a friend and fellow mom said to me once, “No one ever sees me, so I don’t bother.”

Women’s lives have many seasons, and the time of childraising brings adjustments and sacrifices. One of the first things to go, after free time and sleep, is your wardrobe. It’s hard to justify the expense of beautiful clothing when there’s no workplace that requires looking nice, and you have new priorities for your money: college tuition, doctor bills and piano lessons.

It’s not only that you have fewer opportunities for dressing up. Taking care of small children also means your clothing will take a beating --stains are part of the territory.

Yet can I be honest and expose my frivolity? I adore beautiful clothes. And I haven’t stopped adoring them just because I’ve become a mom. Admitting this makes me think of a quote from author Victoria Moran: “I think most of us look at personal delights as somewhere between minimally important and borderline immoral. We like them, but we’re not sure we ought to.”

In the past, I’ve felt guilty for wanting nice things: a cashmere sweater, a massage, or natural beauty products that cost twice as much as the generic Target brands. How do these things compete with “real” priorities like groceries and the mortgage? Or I compare myself to mothers in third world countries, where food and clean water are luxuries, and shame myself for wanting a $100 blouse. I attempt to persuade myself that I don’t need beautiful things. But desire doesn’t evaporate; it moves underground to fester into dissatisfaction.

Women are nurturers and caregivers. We are enthusiastic givers, but lousy receivers. We can be stingy with our self love, so that even when we have money for a treat, we opt for practicality (How far can I make this money stretch? Can I find a cheap Target version?) rather than indulgence, where we buy one thing that makes our heart sing.

For years I denied myself my love of beautiful clothes, often out of necessity as our budget didn’t allow it. But continual sacrifice didn’t make me happy, only cranky and deprived. I think of times when my husband and I were invited to fancy parties, and we stayed home because I didn’t have anything to wear.

I recognize, that on the grand scale of things, a new dress doesn’t rank up there with fighting world hunger, or even teaching kindness to my children. But as a wise woman told me, “True generosity begins with yourself.”

This past winter I broke my pattern of self-denial. I had $200 set aside for a winter coat. I searched for weeks: I didn’t want to settle for something ordinary. Then I found a floor length, plum colored wool and cashmere coat, trimmed in real fur, at 75% off. When it came in the mail, I sat in my living room and cried it was so elegant. I tried it on and felt like a Russian princess.

I’ve gotten more compliments on my coat than on any piece of clothing I’ve ever owned. Every time I wear it I feel fabulous. Therein lies the power of generosity, of giving to oneself: I spent money --a lot of money, for me -- on my coat. I could’ve scrimped and saved and made it stretch as far as possible. I could’ve put the money towards something more practical. But, with each wearing, my coat’s value doesn’t diminish. It expands, to fill my life with beauty and appreciation until my cup overflows.