SheLoves Magazine

Wellness Wednesday: The One Decision I Regret Most

“I wanted to forget that I’d ever felt that momentary joy preceding the horrifying loss of my one and only pregnancy.”

By Tara Rodden Robinson |Twitter: @tararodden 

When I went to church this past Sunday, I grew a little tense. It was Mother’s Day and I usually avoid any public observances that include motherhood. It’s not that I have a bad relationship with my mom—in fact, quite the opposite. It’s that Mother’s Day reminds me of an inescapable fact: I am not a mom.

Just the other day, I got treated to big dose of all the mom-ness that I am not privy to. I had been invited to a mid-week happy hour–a drinks with the girls evening. I arrived at the bar early so I could sit and sip my wine in peace for a while, just to enjoy the sensation of having nothing to do and nowhere to go.

When my friend arrived, another woman rose from a table across the room to intercept her. I knew this was going to happen—my friend had told me that she’d invited others to join us—and I knew that probably all these other women were going to be complete strangers to me. No big deal: I’m good at meeting new people. What I didn’t know was that all the women at the table had kids in the same Montessori school. Yep, it was a Mommy’s Night Out.

To be honest, my non-mommyness didn’t phase me. At least not at first. The conversation didn’t revolve entirely around kids. We talked about other topics, like one woman’s impending divorce and her soon-to-be-ex-husband’s complete meltdown. And when they learned that I am a productivity coach, the group became positively enraptured, asking me all sorts of questions about time management and such. But then the dreaded moment arrived.

“How old are your kids?”

I paused. Swallowed.

“I don’t have any kids,” I replied.

Cue the crickets.

“Oh!” she said, finally.

I didn’t realize how truly awkward that moment was until a few days later when I received—no lie—a handwritten letter of apology from the person who’d invited me.

Damn.

Looking Back

It’s not that I never wanted children. I was just very ambivalent for a long time. Plus I was waiting for the right time: the time when we had a stable income and health insurance. When we finally got around to trying, I was 38 years old. It took me three years to get pregnant. And in my eighth week, I miscarried.

It felt as if my heart had been ripped from my body. I spent weeks doubled over with grief. And when I wasn’t howling in pain, I was in my office, working as usual, trying to pretend that nothing had happened. I didn’t (and still don’t) understand the shame that came with the sadness. Why should I be ashamed of myself? I hadn’t done anything wrong. And yet for the longest time, I wanted to forget that I’d ever felt that momentary joy preceding the horrifying loss of my one and only pregnancy.

My aunt, one of my mom’s younger sisters, tried to comfort me. The little book she sent told me, “never doubt that you are a mother.” Of course, I know this is bull****. Mommies have actual children. For me, no child equalled not a mommy.

Do I sound bitter? I don’t mean to. There are many things about my life that I love. I have a lot of happiness, joy, abundance. There is only this one thing that is missing.

In Hindsight

I wish I could go back and talk to my still-ovulating younger self.

I’d tell her that there is never a right time to have a baby. I’d kick her butt and tell her to stop second-guessing her heart’s desire. And I would tell her to throw out her birth control pills and get herself pregnant.

When I look at my younger friends, the ones wrestling with the same ambivalence about being a mom, juggling the same timing issues and looking for that just-right moment, I want to take them by their shoulders and shake them until their teeth rattle. I want to yell, “When you’re fifty and menopausal and highly accomplished, the only thing that will matter to you is your family. Please, for goodness sake, have one!” If they didn’t call the cops first, would they get the message?

I wonder how my cocky twenty-something self would have reacted to such a visit.

I hope with all my heart I would have listened to me.

______________________________

Dear SheLoves readers, take a few moments to consider these questions:

• If I got a visit from my twenty years older self, what would she most want me to know?
• The heart’s desire I am second-guessing right now is …

______________________________

About Tara:

Tara Rodden Robinson is an author, coach, and educator. Known as The Productivity Maven, she blogs at tararobinson and tweets @tararodden. She lives in Corvallis, Oregon, with her husband and their two dogs. She is working on mastering complex yoga poses and searching for the perfect gluten-free bread recipe. When she’s not writing, coaching, or teaching, she’s out in the wilderness hiking and watching birds.

This time, I’m running

“I’m running for the freedom and wholeness of our beautiful women right here in Canada, for the physically and sexually abused, the sex trafficked, the prostitute.”

By Sarah Bessey | Twitter: @sarahbessey

When you all ran the SheLoves Half-Marathon for Living Hope last year, I felt so ripped off.

Just afterwards, I wrote on my own blog:

I had a chance to be a part of something really amazing, to tell a very cool story of love and sweat and work, and I said no.

So much of life is like that, isn’t it? We feel a nudge, an invitation, a passion, a burning, a bothering. I once heard that if you want to know where you’re called, take an honest look at what makes you angry. If something makes you angry–an injustice, in particular–that is as good as an engraved invitation to do something about it. And oh, I admit it, sometimes I’m so angry about women’s issues (in the church and the world) that I want to burn down the Internet for every lie told to keep women down, to placate and patronize and neuter the strong voices of women, for every injustice done to our sisters and our own selves from the daily mundane lies to the violent abuses.

But we all have a long list of reasons for not stepping out, speaking out, writing it out, singing it out, running it out, confronting, praying, laying on hands, working it out, being bold and courageous. It’s risky. I might fail. People may not like me. I may irritate people. I might be called names or receive a bit more nasty email. (People don’t like it when someone else gets out of the boat, do they?)

It’s easier to stay home and write tweets celebrating the ones actually doing something. And even though I want to live boldly, speak truthfully, love madly, work for justice, sometimes when I hear the Voice, the invitation, I shrug, “Meh – I’m tired” and I’ll just cheer on the women and men actually doing something instead and convince myself that it’s enough.

I work a few hours a week for Mercy Ministries of Canada. Every year, we hold our main fundraiser, the Run for Mercy. And every year, I organize and plan, set up tables and lend my hand to the undertaking. I hand out sandwiches or sign people up at the registration, I write letters and recruit. And I love it. I love gathering together with the Mercy family, with our residents, our graduates, our supporters, our churches, our friends.

But this year, I’m running.

This time, I want to sweat, I want to hurt, I want to be physically there, every step of the way, my heart focused on the long journey of our brave girls.

My sister downloaded that Coach to 5K app on her iPhone, and she’s doggedly walking beside me while I wheeze and hobble around our small city track three nights a week. (I believe that runners call this “training” but that might be a bit ambitious in my case. My feet are moving though and that counts for something, I hope.) It won’t be pretty, but it will be done.

I’m running for the freedom and wholeness of our beautiful women right here in Canada, for the physically and sexually abused, the sex trafficked, the prostitute.

I am running for the drug and alcohol addicted, the broken, the hurting.

I am running for the anorexic, the bulimic, the depressed, the frightened, the anxious, the self-harming.

I am running for my daughters, for our mothers, our sisters, our friends. I am running for you.

I am running for our current residents, for the girls still in our application process, for the girl sitting there with an unfinished application absolutely terrified of change but more scared of staying the same.

I am running for our graduates, for our most recent graduates, Christina and Jessica, because all of our graduates are my heroes.

I am running because I believe that God has a plan and a purpose for each one, and that it is a plan for good and not evil, a plan of hope and freedom.

I’m running for Mercy because it matters for Mercy Ministries of Canada, of course. But I’m also running because, now I know, it matters to me, too.

There are three ways to support Run for Mercy:

1. Join us. Register here, recruit a team from your church or neighbourhood, volunteer or fundraise, show up on Race Day

2. Spread the word for us.

3. Donate or sponsor the Run for Mercy.

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About Sarah:

Sarah Styles Bessey lives in Abbotsford, BC with her husband and three tinies. She’s a happy clappy Jesus-lover, an advocate for Mercy Ministries of Canada, a blogger, writer and simple living/social justice wannabe. She blogs at www.emergingmummy.com and tweets from @sarahbessey.

Wellness Wednesday: Awakening to Peace During My Season of Insomnia

“It was as if God led me down a long corridor of memories and invited me to talk about them.”

By Tara Rodden Robinson |Twitter: @tararodden 

On the morning of November 6, 2011, I crawled out of bed and while waiting for the coffee to brew, I tuned in to my Twitter stream and saw this:

David Allen is an oft-quoted, super-famous, productivity guru. As a bit of a productivity guru myself, I faithfully use his method, Getting Things Done—GTD for short—day in and day out, year after year.

Being curious and sleepless and (at the time) into the whole “med-drug scene,” I clicked over to the NY Times article: Sleep Medication: Mother’s New Little Helper

A brief summary: Women (particularly moms) suffering from anxiety, depression, and insomnia: pharmaceutical industry delighted to help.

I promptly got spitting mad at David Allen. From my sleep-deprived point of view, he was misguided, insensitive and misinformed. Let me tell you (and Mr. Allen, too), no productivity method in the world can make a dent in a full blown, middle of the night, heebie-jeebie producing anxiety attack.

At the time, I was pulling out every trick in the book and slurping down plenty of Ambien and Celexa to boot. But those weren’t what ultimately brought me some much needed healing.

For that, I needed divine intervention. Literally.

A change in perspective

It was my pastor friend, James, who mentioned that maybe my sleepless nights were actually opportunities in disguise. (I met James, somewhat ironically, because of the Getting-Things-Done-themed podcast I host.)

What if, James asked, these times can be night watches for you? Maybe the Lord is awakening you for some reason. Next time it happens, talk to Him. Listen for what He has to say to you.

I went cold turkey on the Ambien the very next night. At around 3am, I woke up and thought, “Ok, I’m awake. Lord, I’m listening. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Yearning to stay awake

The experience was harrowing. And amazing. It was as if God led me down a long corridor of memories and invited me to talk about them. I went deeper and deeper into my past. I felt more and more loved and comforted. Suddenly, I popped out of the hallway of memory and into my body. I was calm and aware of my breathing and totally at peace. Wow.

As crazy as it sounds, I started looking forward to awakening in the middle of the night. It’s hard to put into words what my late night conversations with God were like. Sometimes I talked. Sometimes I listened. Sometimes, we just sat together quietly in the dark. I found myself feeling slightly disappointed if I slept uninterrupted until morning.

When I’m hurting, it’s so tempting to look outside myself to a method or a tool or a medication to try to “fix” me. But I’ve found that embracing my brokenness, like reveling in the sleepless nights, to be a surer, straighter path to healing.

_______________________

So, dear SheLoves reader, what about you?

• How are you sleeping?
• If you wake up in the middle of the night, what do you tell yourself?

_________________________

About Tara: 

Tara Rodden Robinson is an author, coach, and educator. Known as The Productivity Maven, she blogs at tararobinson and tweets @tararodden. She lives in Corvallis, Oregon, with her husband and their two dogs. She is working on mastering complex yoga poses and searching for the perfect gluten-free bread recipe. When she’s not writing, coaching, or teaching, she’s out in the wilderness hiking and watching birds.

Wellness Wednesday: My Journey with Weight Control

By Claire De Boer | Twitter: @Britchic19

“It’s not okay that women live bound by the chains of what society expects from our bodies.”

 42,720. The approximate number of times I have weighed myself in my life.

68,352. The approximate number of minutes I have spent counting calories.

That’s 1140 hours—47.5 days— of non-stop calorie counting and more than two weeks of standing on the scale day and night.

Those are some big numbers. It’s hard for me to share them with you. I am embarrassed to have wasted so much of my time on such a fruitless pursuit.

But I need to talk about this subject, because as women we so often refer to this unnatural relationship with our bodies as though it’s normal. To me, it’s a form of an eating disorder. Not in the same way that anorexia or bulimia are eating disorders, but in the sense that so many women like myself grapple with this “disordered” way of eating on a daily basis. I’m talking about it because it’s not okay that women live bound by the chains of what society expects from our bodies.

I can’t count the number of times I have sat around a table with girlfriends, a delicious selection of mouthwatering finger foods under our noses, and listened as most of us have justified our decision to eat or not eat the food.

“I went for a run today.”

“I didn’t eat dinner, so I can indulge.”

“I’ve been good all week, so I deserve a night off.”

“I shouldn’t … I really need to lose a few pounds.”

Whatever the response, so many of us are sitting around that table justifying our decision to eat or not eat. I have never heard the same conversation around a table of men.

The journey

I have been dieting since the age of 12. I remember the day I went to my mother and told her I thought I was fat. She thought she was helping me when she put me on a calorie-controlled diet.

I can’t remember if I actually lost any weight on that first diet, but I do remember learning a lot about the energy values of basic food items, and experiencing the joy of watching the scale move in a downward direction. It was addictive. If I lost any weight then, it didn’t matter—I had begun the agonizing journey of feast or famine.

I am now 38. I would estimate that I have begun a diet at least six times a year since that first time. This means I’ve been on a diet over 156 times. I’ve probably lost three times my current body weight in my lifetime, yet I’ve never been more than 20 pounds overweight. I’ve been losing and gaining the same weight over and over again all this time.

What a waste of time and energy.

Out of balance

And somehow I seem unable to break the cycle—after all, I have lived with it for 26 years. When it began, it was about the extra pounds; I used food to get through my parents’ destructive divorce. Food became something I relied on for comfort. Then it became an obsession, a way of controlling my life. Now it’s a state of mind that is so deeply ingrained, I struggle with it every day.

It’s also about control. Letting go means losing control. When I have control over my food intake, I somehow have control over my life. Perhaps that’s why this battle with my body has gone on for so long.

Where do I go from here?

This is not what I want for my future.

This is not what I want for my daughter’s future.

The thought that I may pass on such a negative cycle to my daughter scares me. I try to teach her about making healthy choices, to focus on how beautiful she is from the inside out. I want to protect her from a world that objectifies women and expects us to look a certain way. I know the best I can do is to let her know she is worth so much more.

And I have to let go, both for her sake and for mine. I want to walk the path that God purposed for my life without being held back by the chains of a negative body image. One day I will stand before my Father and he will ask me to account for my life. I don’t want to tell Him I spent every day obsessing about my calorie intake.

I want to tell Him that I loved well and that I made a difference in the lives of others.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” Matthew 6:25

By faith and through prayer, I am standing for a future where my relationship with food and with my body is the one that God intended for me.

_______________________________

Dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear your thoughts:

• Do you struggle with the same issue?
• Do you think it’s becoming easier or harder for us as women to be happy with their bodies?
• What holds you back from stepping into your true light?
• What has helped you in finding your balance?

Born and raised in the UK, Claire De Boer is a writer, woman of God, mother and wife. She is currently working on her first women’s fiction novel and a collection of short stories. Claire is a graduate of The Writer’s Studio at Simon Fraser University. She blogs at clairejdeboer and tweets @britchic19.

Wednesday Wellness: My Green Valentine

“The real love affair should have always been with my health—celebrating God’s creation by enjoying it in its natural unadulterated state.”

By Ali Valdez

I am on day 32 of a 40-Day Challenge I developed at our yoga studio this year. The challenge is designed to radically change your body and awaken every participant to a new way of being.

I intentionally planned the challenge to end on Valentine’s Day. My idea was there would be some food elimination and quarantining of habits and on that final day, participants would want to go back home to their sweeties, eager for bear hugs, heart-shaped boxes of chocolates and maybe another type of indulgence or two … (nudge-nudge, wink-wink.)

Instead they wanted to extend the program.

The original 40-day challenge was developed by Power Yoga guru, Baron Baptiste. Although I appreciate this movement,  I felt the original program gives a boost but lacks a sense of destiny. So I did it differently and yielded some interesting insights.

Now, as I approach the big V-Day, my idea of what a love affair can be, has already been transformed.

Disconnected

After my daughter was born, my eating habits created a “toxic” relationship with my body and I have known for a while this needed to end. The disconnect seemed so innocent at first— a quick run through the drive-through, that extra square of brownie at the baby shower, seconds at Thanksgiving. I later apologized profusely and promised myself never to do it again: no more Pringles, Frosties on a hot day or whipped cream on the hot chocolate.

The real love affair should have always been with my health—celebrating God’s creation by enjoying it in its natural unadulterated state. That means a profound reconnection with the vitality required of my body to pursue my life purpose.

No more sodas. No more poisons to pollute my system. These foods were the apple in the Garden, banishing me from my best possible health.

The more I allowed random, thoughtless consumption to turn my body into a living breathing trash compactor, the more I realized I was not able to be as capable, healthy and strong as I need to be. That’s where the co-dependence to snacking came into play.

The juicing stopped; the compost bin went dry.

Looking back, I’ve lost some weight–whatever–and the unction to eat meat. But more importantly: what have I gained? New insights.

I will celebrate this Valentines’ Day in the green: healthy financially, physically and emotionally. I have re-embraced sacred time for self-care. Bath salts and dry-brushing, the weekly massage.

Awakening

This morning, I awoke to sunshine, its dusty slivers peeking through my windows and settling against my skin. I observed my body after weeks of not visiting my reflection in a mirror (one of our suggestions on this 40-day challenge). I awoke to a new-found appreciation for the journey we , corpus and humanis, have taken together.

I smiled. The only culprit to blame for anything I see critically in that mirror is my state of mind. But to be entirely truthful: anything I see about my body that I do not like is a derivative of my old eating habits– “low-fat” cookies and pre-made meals. If my focus was to shift to the quality of the food, the time I spend preparing and eating it, as well as  the quantity, not only would I look better, I would probably live longer and feel better.

The sacred vehicle of mine–no, not the Volvo V50–but my blubber and bones, the thick muscles on my shoulders and back, my still skinny ankles have been invigorated by my rekindled love affair with the crudité, the salad and the unsung hero, the braised green.

Anyone who owns a car knows not to pull up to the gas station and pump fruit punch into the gas tank. When my car is in distress I get it serviced, its oil changed … not pump more junk into it.

Truth

For the past few years, I got into thinking that I had the choice to indulge my senses, without consequences. The 40-Day challenge has helped me once again realize how my body is the vehicle to my soul.  I started thinking hard about what I was putting into my body,  for what reasons and when. Then I calculated what I actually needed and when. My teacher always says in regard to mindful eating that Hunger is the Truth; Appetite the Lie.

Today I am taking a two-hour lunch, savoring my food and eating it slowly. I avoid drinking anything with my meal so the food can digest and I am chewing thoroughly. I am having an organic greens salad with a walnut vinaigrette, a marinated portabello mushroom sandwich with sweet onion marmalade and a quinoa green onion side salad with some chopped arugula. I am full, I am happy, the tastebuds are zipping. The food is delicious!

Now as I make my way to the gym to swim, teach one hot yoga class and then a Yin, I know I have the energy I need to teach excellent classes.

Here’s what I’ve learned: it’s great to love my body on the outside, but it’s best to love it from the inside.

_________________________

My dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear:

• Has the new year inspired you to make any heath and wellness changes?
• How is it going for you?
• When you take care of your body, do you also feel like it also affects your spiritual wellness?

About Ali:

My name is Ali Valdez and I live between Seattle and Houston. I am a Christian yoga instructor, academic and writer, and devote most of my time in servitude to my students, who are yoga teachers or studio owners developing yoga communities in their cities and towns. I have also worked and led Kindergarten and small groups at my church. I love religion, philosophy and man’s inquiry on all things of higher order. I have devoted my life to study and am versed in the metaphysical, philosophical and topics of comparative religion. Practically, I love wellness, nutrition, the gross and subtle energy bodies, healing, alternative medicine, fitness, exercise, and healthful levels on many levels. I have done crazy things like marathons, sky-diving and state-of-the-art spa treatments. I look forward to connecting with you all and sharing whatever insights I may have that serve you in your aspirations. For fun, I travel the world, host retreats globally, read and write on my blog, the Gadabout. I also party with my Bun, a little five-year-old named Mathilde. You can learn more about what I do at sattvayogaonline.com

TGIF: 3 Important Lessons a Car Wash Taught Me About Life

On yellow submarines, high pressure washes and weathering life’s storms.

by Tina Francis | Twitter: @teenbug
____________________________________________________________

My sister and I loved going to the car wash when we were kids. We would hold hands and squeal in anticipation as the tires slowly clicked onto the conveyor belt. For five minutes we could pretend that our car was a submarine. We’d even hum, “We all live in a yellow submarine” in a trance-like state as our dilated pupils soaked up the aquatic Cirque de Soleil production unfolding 360°around us.

“Again-Again!” I wanted to yell when we were done.

Now that I’m an adult, I find the exercise of washing a car in a rainy city like Vancouver utterly futile. You wash your muddy car, it’s shiny for twenty seconds, you take a right turn at the McDonalds and boom before you can say “Game on, Windex!” it starts to rain. Just like that, you’re back to square one. Muddy Car 2.0.

Having said that, I was meeting a new friend who I couldn’t afford to scare off (just yet), and since my car looked like it rolled off the set of Jurassic Park, I drove to the closest car wash.

I’m still not sure why, but that particular Saturday, I felt like a kid again. I let the soapy magic wash over my muddy car and myself as I documented the whole thing on my iPhone.

Strong chemical pre-soak ….

Blinding soft cloth wraparounds …

Low-hanging, ribboned cloth curtains …

High pressure wash …

Foggy … so foggy …

Pretty rivulets of water …

Finally, the forced air-dry …

Is it just me, or is the car wash a great analogy for life?

How many times have we gone through:

• Strong chemical pre-soak – Harsh words, criticism, negativity, etc.
• Blinding Wraparounds - Bad news, curve balls, unexpected disappointments, etc. 
• Low-hanging ribboned cloth curtains – Easily accessible distractions to numb the pain like food, TV, shopping, Facebook, etc.
• High pressure wash – You think you’ve hit rock bottom and then it gets worse. Losing a loved one, job, health, etc.
• Foggy … so foggy - Self-explanatory.
• Pretty rivulets of water – Traces of hope: an encouraging phone call from a friend, getting approved for a loan, finding a part-time job until you get your dream job.
• Forced air dry – Crossing the threshold, walking on fire and finally passing the test.

The fabulous news? There ‘s light at the end of the tunnel.

Here are three important lessons a car wash taught me about life:

1. Be still - The first instruction you receive at a car wash is:

“Put the vehicle into neutral, release brakes and refrain from steering. Failure to do so can cause an accident on the conveyor.”

I thought this was poignant. When chocolate pudding hits the fan, don’t we always do the opposite? We go into overdrive. We clench up. We swerve like maniacs. We fight the current. We spit into the wind. And it achieves absolutely nothing. “Failure to do so can cause an accident on the conveyor.” Hello, can I get an Amen?

This “being still” can be particularly difficult for those of us who are doers who need to cross things off to-do lists. The reason we are incapacitated in a crisis is because the old rules don’t apply. There are new variables and we don’t have a 10-step list that will take away the pain. 

When nothing in life makes sense, we need to quieten down and listen for God’s voice. In other words, we need to breathe deeply (go into neutral), relax (release brakes) and give control to God (refrain from steering). *cue Carrie Underwood song “Jesus take the wheel.”* Ha-ha.

2. Move Forward: Okay, I know what you’re thinking, “How can I be still and move forward at the same time?” Wait, hear me out. One of the things that struck me about the car wash was the steady pace at which the car moved forward. The car didn’t accelerate during pre-soak or the high pressure wash or the forced air-dry. It simply stayed on course through each stage.

When I look back at the stormy seasons of my life, it was a slow and steady process of waking up, getting dressed and facing the day. There was never a quick-fix resolution.  Regardless of how heavy-hearted and overwhelmed I felt, I put one foot in front of the other. I mastered the art of baby steps.

Real life is the opposite of a movie trailer. There are no fast cuts with whooshing sounds and action packed scenes. Sometimes it feels like the same boring scene. Over and over again. Nothing changes. No new characters. No music. #worstmovieever #whofundedthis

Real life is like planting a seed, giving it sunlight, watering it every day and seeing nothing. Then on a random Tuesday when you’re rushing out the door to catch the bus, you spot a tiny blade of green peeking through the soil and your heart leaps, your blood flows, your face beams. Suddenly, it was all worth it.

3. Give Thanks –I smiled when I saw the green signal flashing “Thank you” at the end of the car wash. The year 2011 has been incredibly kind to me. I made beautiful friends, read life-changing books, fought hard for things I care about and had a deep sense of forward motion. It is easy to give thanks in a place of abundance, fruitfulness and joy.

A Different Time

Earlier this week in a conversation with a dear friend, I was reminded of a barren time in my life. The Job season of my life. The earth was spinning madly and I had nothing to hold onto. My heart had been betrayed, my bank account depleted, my career prospects were bleak, my loved ones were suffering physically and financially.  I was angry, livid and furious with God. How do you dig up gratitude in a place of emotional fatigue and famine?

I remember a particularly embarrassing meltdown after helping a friend with a garage sale a couple of summers ago. She asked the question, “How is the job search going?” and I lost it. Maybe I was just exhausted from carrying boxes, or maybe it was the hot summer sun, but I spewed tears, mucous and swear words for 15 minutes straight. I was a hot mess. Once the emotional explosion (tantrum) subsided, I crawled onto a sunlit spot on her couch and closed my eyes. The warm sun on my face, felt like a kiss from heaven and I went into neutral, released brakes and stopped steering. Just before falling asleep I whispered the words, “I’m sorry, God. I know you haven’t forgotten about me. Thank you for loving me even when I am an idiot.”

My life was still a mess when I woke up from that nap, but there was something about giving thanks in the midst of the pain that gave me enough strength for the next day.

I think Joe Bunting is onto something when he says, “Choose to be thankful for both the beauty and the pain.” 

_______________________________________________

So when life feels crazy just remember to:

Be Still + Move Forward + Give Thanks

We’re gonna be okay. *rubs back* No really. We are.

______________________________________________________

So, dear friends …

1. Which one of these three lessons is the hardest for you?

2. What practice have you found to be most helpful in the storms of life?

3. Does the carwash metaphor resonate with you?

Love you more than Chicken Corn Chowder and Buttered Biscuits, (<- Recipe)

xoxo,
Teen

To read more TGIFs from Tina: Click here.

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My name is Tina. Loved ones call me: Teen.

Words are my chocolate. Music, my caramel. Photography, my bread. Girlfriends, my butter.

Confession: Some girls dream about Manolo Blahniks or their next Hermes bag. Not me. I dream of freshly baked bread, perfectly barbecued meat & steaming bowls of Pho. My dream lover *cue Mariah Carey song* is someone who would read out a menu to me in Barry White’s baritone voice.

I celebrate food, ask for help, interrupt conversations, laugh and cry hard, acknowledge the elephant in most rooms, fight for the underdog and believe in the power of storytelling.

My word for the year is “leap.” If something scares me, I do it.

I was born and raised in Dubai and currently live in the beautiful city of Vancouver, known for some of the best sushi in the world.

Intoxicating: The Fragrant Life

“Thankfully, I know how to soak in Sweeter Perfume than what I store in my dresser.”

By Amy Englemark

I love to smell good.

The scent of my fragrant rose bushes sends me through the roof. I love to linger over my favourite perfume.

Still, personally, I want my whole being to smell good. I want to be noticed for the right reasons, for a Greater Purpose. I want to bring honor to Someone Greater. I want to exude sweetness and in order to do so, this lusciousness must first come from within. People will clue in pretty quickly if the sweetness they smell on me is only skin deep.

I’ve determined that for my life to carry this scent, I need to be a woman of integrity. I want to smell good in public as well as at home. I don’t like faking it.

Here’s three things I do for my life to smell good:

1. Listening and Learning (I clean my ears.)

I have a hard time listening to certain people in my life. (I won’t reveal names here!) I’m not quite sure why I find it easier to listen to some people and not others. Maybe it’s the way advice is given or maybe I feel like my way is good enough or I know enough already. Whatever the case, I miss out on opportunities to learn and grow when I close myself off. I’m making an effort to be open to others’ counsel. I’m finding that my effort results in my relationships growing deeper … probably because I smell better to them.

2. Believing the Truth (Bathe regularly.)

I am beautiful and no matter how old, how studied, how experienced or even what others think of me, I can do all things because of the strength and power within me. Now, I may not smell good to all people, but I am learning that doesn’t matter.

3. Walk the Talk (Brush my teeth.)

I do love talking about personal growth. I love talking about the meaty things in life. The weather can wait. Why waste time on that? Let’s get right to the point. That’s my personality.

Sometimes what I find difficult is taking action on what I’ve spoken about. I’m aware of the step I want to take, but mustering up the commitment to stick with my decision is another matter. I’m becoming aware that my follow through is equally important to my initial “great idea.”

The more I walk my talk the more authentic, trustworthy and reliable I am.

Oh, to smell good all the time! That is my aim but, I don’t always hit the mark.  Sometimes I forget my personal value and start living a life way below my potential. Sometimes I devalue others which creates friction in my relationships.

If only a gentle mist of my favourite perfume would cover these issues. Thankfully, I know how to soak in Sweeter Perfume than what I store in my dresser. It’s a heady scent that soaks deep into my bones and helps me focus on Beauty that comes from way down deep and resonates outward.

I hope all of you who read this are aware that your smell is different from anyone else’s in the whole world. I really mean it. Our uniquenesses smell up a room like nobody else can … even after running a marathon!

I’d love to hear from you:

• What small change you can make to smell more beautiful today?
• Have you noticed any unwelcome odours lately? Where’s it coming from?
• What perfume do you choose? What do you choose to smell like today?

Amy

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About Amy:

I am currently studying at the International Coach Academy to become a professional certified coach. I could spend 90% of my life outside. I love hiking, mountain biking, travelling and any sort of adventure. I like to jump from the highest rock into the deepest water. I like to shout for joy.

Wellness: One Way to Infuse Your Life with Purpose

On stamina, stillness and the wisdom of Steve Jobs.

By Ali Valdez

Last week, the world was saddened and stunned by the death of technology savant, Steve Jobs. His Stanford University commencement speech, circulated prodigiously on the Internet, inspired millions. Its topic? Death. Not woe-is-me, cold-death-beckons-a-poor-Silicon-Valley-billionaire, but as a mentor and instrument of meaning, infusing his life with purpose:

“No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life.

My story

One Good Friday, my pastor challenged the congregation to contemplate Jesus’ death on the cross. The room was dark and quiet. This ties back to Peter who makes claims of loyalty for Christ, but indeed Jesus knew in advance his limitations. I lasted about ten minutes, gravely humbled by my lack of endurance. Instead, my leg went to sleep, my stomach hurt because I overate, my mind was distracted.

I realized I didn’t have the mental stamina, yet alone the physical stamina to be wholly present for more than ten minutes.

Stillness is something I have worked hard to cultivate. It is just me-and-God time, no one sees it, but it was a call to action. Wellness requires focus, discipline and health in the body and mind. Then the spiritual work can commence and be sustained.

Believing in the promise of Christ’s resurrection should diminish all concerns of death, right?  In 2 Corinthians 5:8 it states: Yes, we are fully confident, and we would rather be away from these earthly bodies, for then we will be at home with the Lord. (NLT). Beyond stating the body is a temple, or “earthly,” Christians typically tend to regard the body in its most practical day-to-day existence, not as a sacred, divine mystery. The Sufi mystic, Rumi, writes of Adam, “when he was given his body and his made of watery clay and fiery wind, the qualities inside the names became that; a human life being lived.”

As a student of comparative religion, I see death take many figurative forms but always  as star attraction. The Upanishads say “even as a heavy-laden cart moves on groaning, even so the cart of the human body, wherein lives the Spirit, moves on groaning when a man is giving up the breath of life.” Believers simultaneously feign diffidence and shake in fear at the reality of death’s encroachment on their conditioned way of life. It is never easy to let go, practice non-attachment and still feel human. We work through illness, aging, battling our genetics or lifestyle choices. Most of us have not lived through the egregious assault of death when it plays its hand in its harshest forms such as living through revolution, civil war, or famine.

In the Western world we have a choice.

Philippians 1:22-23 says: But if I live, I can do more fruitful work for Christ. So I really don’t know which is better. I’m torn between two desires: I long to go and be with Christ, which would be far better for me. (NLT) Paul knows that his work stands to benefit many. He understands duty and works whole-heartedly. Still, what we have accepted is a gift: Christ’s sacrifice of his material self.  To act in wellness is to operate in the fullness of the Christian life; physically, mentally and spiritually acquiescing to the graceful acknowledgement that there is work to do and fearlessness of death whilst doing it, even if that includes death of ego, prestige, or status.

“Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. There is no reason not to follow your heart.” –Steve Jobs

I believe living from the heart requires single-minded focus, discipline and health in the body and mind. Then the spiritual work can commence and be sustained. Now I understand that my body is indeed a temple on many levels. Sometimes I feel like God conducts my life like a conductor of a Stravinsky symphony.  Mine tends to be a temple frenetically in motion, like a whirling dervish. But now my body can also be a temple made of stone, cemented in bedrock capable of sitting, listening and learning for days on end.

This has become my barometer of wellness: when I can sit undeterred in the presence of God.

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So, dear SheLoves sisters, I’d love to hear your thoughts:

• Like Paul and Steve Jobs, do you think about death and allow it to inspire you towards clarity of purpose?
• What is your relationship with your body? Do you think of it in its most practical day-to-day existence, or as a sacred, divine mystery?
• Or: Do you have any questions?

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About Ali:

My name is Ali Valdez and I live between Seattle and Houston. I am a Christian yoga instructor, academic and writer, and devote most of my time in servitude to my students, who are yoga teachers or studio owners developing yoga communities in their cities and towns. I have also worked and led Kindergarten and small groups at my church. I love religion, philosophy and man’s inquiry on all things of higher order. I have devoted my life to study and am versed in the metaphysical, philosophical and topics of comparative religion. Practically, I love wellness, nutrition, the gross and subtle energy bodies, healing, alternative medicine, fitness, exercise, and healthful levels on many levels. I have done crazy things like marathons, sky-diving and state-of-the-art spa treatments. I look forward to connecting with you all and sharing whatever insights I may have that serve you in your aspirations. For fun, I travel the world, host retreats globally, read and write on my blog, the Gadabout. I also party with my Bun, a little five-year-old named Mathilde. You can learn more about what I do at sattvayogaonline.com

Closure: Saying Goodbye

On grieving what was to make space for what lies ahead.

By Natasha Files | Twitter: @natashafiles

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Reflecting on what I have learned during this journey of writing a SheLoves wellness post on Wednesdays, it has come to my attention that everything is as it should be. Yes, I will miss sharing my passion with a community of equally passionate women, but closure for this piece means space for other amazing women to share, and room for me to learn.

Until recently I regarded the word “closure” to be very negative. How can a word used to describe the termination of something good, be anything but depressing? I focused on what I was losing, rather than what would fill the new space and negated to acknowledge my need to grieve transitions in a healthy way.

Growing & Grieving

With a few big transitions in the past eight months, I have become a bit accustomed to moving and grieving. Becoming accustomed doesn’t make me a pro, but I feel that all this change has forced me to sink or swim in the land of growth.

Embracing the unfamiliar seems daunting, especially when it means saying goodbye to everything comfortable. These last two weeks I have needed to remind myself that being sad is a valid emotion during times of closure, even when tears come unexpectedly at inconvenient times. For example: in the middle of a class discussion about government policy on the second day of school. Yep.

Recognizing the many reasons I have loved writing for SheLoves magazine, leaves me wanting to “cut and run” in order to avoid the pain of leaving. “Cut and run,” to me, would mean I isolate from the community in order to forget the reasons I love it so much. I know this isn’t healthy, but I also know I am not the only individual who would rather isolate from a love rather than acknowledge the pain. I took time to journal the healthy ways I will process this closure and hope you will also find them helpful, if you ever find yourself in a place of termination.

Here’s how I processed:

1) I defined the painful situation.

2) I acknowledged my emotions and their significance.

3) I identified the aspects of my life that require extra attention this season.

4) I brainstormed ways to address the grief that will inevitably follow.

5) I reminded myself that this pain is normal, valid, and will not last forever.

I sit here slightly dazed. Processing the many aspects of how this space has empowered me, I can’t help but be grateful for a community of participants who are willing to be real. Someone once encouraged me with these words: “Life and time will continue ticking, but it is up to you whether you genuinely participate in each moment and make it count.”

It is obvious that the women of SheLoves (both readers and writers) are individuals who have chosen to participate in each moment. We recognize the importance of walking with arms linked, calling affirmations to those ahead and behind, because it is by working together that we can surpass any potential hurdles to life.

Thank you for being a part of something more powerful than any of us can understand. I am honoured to be a participant in this community and look forward to following others as they continue to share Truth with the world wide web.

Much love always and forever,

Tash xo

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–>>Editor’s note: I have treasured these weekly posts from Natasha. She was one of our first regular SheLoves contributors and helped give momentum and a hearbeat to our site. I will always be grateful for that.

Love you, Natasha, and catch you on the other side of your Masters degree! –idelette xoxo

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About Natasha:
Natasha Files is Case Manager with a Mental Health and Addictions Team. She has experience working with youth and adults struggling with a variety of life-controlling issues and she specializes in eating disorders. Natasha’s passion for mental wellness began when she personally experienced the impact of a genuinely caring professional. That passion is paired with a love of espresso, only to be overshadowed by her desire to see women set free from life-controlling issues.

Image credit: Untitled, by  Adam Piggott

My Cure for Feeling Overwhelmed: The Three P’s

On nine ballerinas, moving to Calgary and prioritizing my life

By Natasha Files | Twitter: @natashafiles

A few days after settling into my new life amidst the flames and cowboys of Calgary, I found myself slightly overwhelmed. It’s not the fact that I am the main house parent to nine quirky ballerinas, nor that I am in a full-time Masters program that requires countless pages of paper writing. No, I think the pressure is coming from my lack of organization and an inability to conceptualize the coming weeks.

Have you ever had a moment where you felt completely engulfed in confusion, but knew you would eventually work it out? This past week has been like that, where I had seen the light at the end of the tunnel, but running to it was equitable to running through thick air during a nightmare. Well, I finally figured out how to cut that air and reach the light: patience, prioritizing & planning.

Or: PPP.

I know, so corny, but I find it easier having acronyms or fun sayings to remind myself about healthy coping. Here is how I unpackaged and found my three P’s were most helpful:

1)   Patience – I asked myself to identify my specific stressors and divide the factors I can control vs the ones I can’t. After realizing that not everything in my bundle of stress is within my power to change, I acknowledged my need to trust and focus on the process rather than chomp at the bit for an end result.

Reflect: Feeling overwhelmed? Can you make a list of the main contributors to your stress? Within that list, what is in your power to change? Which parts do you need to eliminate? Which parts do you need to hand over to God?

2)   Prioritization – this is a big one for me because I get so excited about opportunities to get involved. This week I had to remind myself that I am a full-time mother and a full-time student, so maybe I need to step back from a few responsibilities this season. I highlighted my personal goals (spiritual, physical, relational, financial and educational) and decided what is at the top of my list and what might need to be paused or stopped.

Reflect: What are your current personal goals? How do your current responsibilities line up with these desires? Can anything be shifted or decreased?

3)   Planning – Once I recognized the most important commitments for this season, I made a schedule. I ensured I will have enough time to fully embrace my current responsibilities and passions, and reminded myself that stepping back from certain areas does not make me less of a woman.

Reflect: How can you schedule your life so that important commitments and passions do not become overwhelming burdens?

Making Room

A bittersweet aspect of my current 3 P’s is that some of my favourite activities are being paused or stopped. When I planned, I chose to focus on allowing more room for the most precious commitments of this season and, unfortunately, had strong boundaries with giving those commitments enough space. The end result? Certain passions are currently paused. Despite the heartache of this decision, I have peace and know I am honoring myself and avoiding burn out.

One of the commitments that will soon go on pause is my weekly wellness piece with SheLoves magazine. As mentioned above, I have had to have strong boundaries with myself to avoid burnout in this new season and am no less passionate about SheLoves or wellness because of this decision. I am honoured to have had space to share my experiences and a forum to offer resources in such a supportive community. I will still be following other entries and sharing this site with as many people as possible, and hope to eventually return with a fresh perspective. I so love SheLoves magazine <3

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With this, my beautifully powerful SheLoves sisters, I am curious to hear your thoughts:

1) How is your current life situation? Does it need a do-over with the 3 P’s?

2) What is an area where you could benefit from being a little more patient?

3) What areas of your life would you prioritize in this season and how can you plan to ensure they have space?

About Natasha:
Natasha Files is Case Manager with a Mental Health and Addictions Team. She has experience working with youth and adults struggling with a variety of life-controlling issues and she specializes in eating disorders. Natasha’s passion for mental wellness began when she personally experienced the impact of a genuinely caring professional. That passion is paired with a love of espresso, only to be overshadowed by her desire to see women set free from life-controlling issues.