Candida

I am still recovering from my junk food bender a few weeks ago. For years food has been my numbing tool of choice. I had a rather extended relationship with shopping, a brief fling with different drugs, another extended relationship with social media/the internet.. The one constant has been food though. Problematic relationships with other numbing tools may come and go but food, food is always there, riding shot gun, just waiting for the cue from me to step in and provide the void needed to consume whatever overwhelm I do not want to feel.

This is not one of my prettier truths. A truth it is though, and this truth belongs to me. To love myself here I have to first own it, and with reluctance and shame I do.

For the moment food and I are okay again and our relationship is balanced; I am not trying to control food and food is not stepping in to numb/control me. That balance is about to experience another shift.

As a result of the two week long binge I went on last month my gut is now completely out of whack.

Last year my allergies became so intolerable I finally broke down and went to a specialist. I have had allergy issues since I was at the end of high school, in recent years it has been hard to manage. The year I got married it was so bad I thought there was a chance I would not be able to wear make-up on my wedding day due to my constantly itchy watery eyes.

So I saw the allergist, did the scratch test and some blood work, and discovered the underlying issue was candida overgrowth in my gut. The solution: 1 year of allergy shots once a week (no thanks!) or 3 months on the candida diet to rebalance my gut. I chose the latter.

The candida diet sucked. It felt super complicated, I went through terrible withdrawals, my mood was over all over the place. It was not fun AND it absolutely did the trick.

My allergies cleared up, my symptoms of IBS (that I would never talk about out of embarrassment) went away, my mood improved, and I felt more alert/clear headed.

I went off the diet and started reintroducing certain foods to my diet while others I have given up permanently because of the way they make me feel. Mushrooms for example, I have a major mold allergy – mushrooms are no good for me.

In the last few weeks I have seen the signs that my candida issue is an issue again. The texture of my nails, my mood, bloat, craving certain foods that I know cause a reaction/overgrowth issue, and most of all severe allergy symptoms even with my meds.

So I am restarting my efforts to bring down the overgrowth and restore my gut to healthy functioning. I am not hitting the issue full force like I did last time. This time I am doing it for about a month, compared to 3 months last time. I am not going to be completely rigid about following “the rules”, I am just going to be mindful about avoiding foods that feed the candida in my gut.

When I was spiraling last month I allowed myself to have my moment with food because I knew I could stop. I knew I was struggling AND I knew I would not continue to struggle. I believe that I will get to a point where I can experience overwhelm, and struggle, and pain AND not feel the need to rely on numbing to get me through. I am not there yet and that is okay. I can see my progress. I am aware of my emotions, I am aware of my numbing, AND I am making a conscience effort to avoid judgment for how I take care of myself.

I am still figuring this out and these are darker parts of myself that I am working with. What is important is that I am showing up and trying to work with them. Rather than shutting down in my shame and judging myself for this numbing behavior, I am showing up in compassion and curiosity and trying to get know myself better here so I can love myself well in this space.

At the end of the day eating well or not eating well is not the thing that will make me feel better or worse. I cannot cure this with kale the same way I cannot cure it with chocolate. It is not about the food, it is about me and my relationship with myself. It is about showing up for the piece of me that is suffering instead of abandoning her in her pain. Loving myself well is the only cure to what ails me, that is my truth. Nothing from the outside can make this feel better; whether that be love/validation from another person, food of any kind, medication, my career, having children, my material possessions. That is just not how it works. It is inside work.

So I will mend the parts of my body that need mending, once again find my balance, and travel into that dark emotional space of pain to find whoever is hiding there needing to be seen and loved. So often self-love is a rescue mission, and today I am here to do that work.

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I Will Never Cut Another Dress

That’s a good look.

I lifted my head and peered out at my husband from behind the scarf that was covering the majority of my face.

Oh yeah, think I should leave it like this?

Oh definitely.

We both laughed as I continued to tie my head scarf and put my glasses back on.

My husband and I have a rule in our relationship: no body policing.

That means I am allowed to be in my body however feels comfortable without worry of non-acceptance and so is he. This is one area in our relationship where acceptance is not conditional.

So I can shave or not, wear make up or not, do my hair or put on a hat or scarf, dress however I feel etc etc.
He can shave or not, get a haircut or not, dress however he feels etc etc.

This is an important rule to each of us in our relationship because we have both been in relationships where we did not feel this freedom and we agreed that not having this freedom makes for an unhealthy relationship. We have to belong to ourselves first and one of that fastest ways to autonomy is through feeling full ownership of one’s body.

That is not to say that we never say anything about one another’s body/appearance. When my husband’s finger nails start to get long he sometimes scratches me on accident, I let him know so either:

A. He can choose to trim his nails OR
B. He is more mindful when embracing me.

Me saying something about his finger nails does not mean he has to cut them, he can make that choice, I am allowed to set a boundary stating: Hey that hurts please be careful how you touch me when your nails are that length.

This morning as I got ready and was thinking about this aspect of our relationship and silently counting my gratitude for it I thought of the times in my life when I did not feel in control of my body/appearance and acceptance was conditional on meeting the expectations of someone else.

As children we experience this all the time. For me it was my mother doing my hair the way she wanted it done while I cried under her comb that was piercing my scalp.

I started shaving my legs in 5th grade because two of the boys in class made fun of the hair on my legs. I had never given it any thought until suddenly I was made to feel ashamed for something my body does naturally.

As a teen it was all about trying to fit in order to stay invisible and survive. My face was marked with noticeable scarring after my car accident freshman year so I was already getting some harsh unwanted attention, I did my best not to stick out by way of appearance.

And in my twenties when my identity was usually wrapped up in whoever I was dating I followed their lead. My boyfriend said he likes brunettes better than blondes so for the first time in my life I dyed my hair and played the role of brunette for a few years.

There is one instance that always come to mind first when I think of why this (whole body ownership/autonomy) is so important to me: my ex and the dress.

I have a few great loves when it comes to dresses over the years. In high school I had this denim jumper dress that I loved so much I have it saved in a box to hopefully give to my one day daughter. In my twenties it was the Joni Mitchell dress, so named by my then boyfriend. Now it is my long blue wrap dress.

These dresses were my go-to dresses during these periods of my life because they all possessed the same magic: no matter how I was feeling before putting the dress on, the second I was wearing it I felt beautiful and grounded and myself.

I remember when I bought the Joni Mitchell dress, I got home and put it on to go out with my boyfriend that night. I felt invincible, like the most luminous, stunning version of myself. I got to his house, walked in surrounded by the energetic light I was feeling, and was immediately verbally shit on.

What are you wearing? You look ridiculous. You look like a hippy. You look like Joni Mitchell (which was totally meant as a dig – but she is fucking fabulous so jokes on him)Did you bring a change of clothes? I hate that dress. Never wear that around me again.

Honestly I loved it so much that as hurt as I was in that moment I still felt beautiful. And this was during a very insecure time in my existence, so for me to be able to rebound so easily from this verbal attack when my feelings about myself were completely wrapped up in how others feel about me.. that just further speaks to the power of this dress.

I was faced with a dilemma though. My boyfriend hates the dress and never wants to be seen with me wearing it again and I love the dress and never want to take it off. I was desperate to find a way to make this work. I was desperate. Those three words pretty much sum me up back then.

Acting on this feeling of desperation I did something that I immediately regretted, I cut the dress. The dress was long, white, and flowy with explosions of color splashed all over. It looked like art on a blank canvas. When I cut it all the magic was gone. I was Delilah cutting Samson’s hair. It was awful.

My boyfriend loved it. He thought I looked amazing. I suddenly realized just how much that does not matter. I did not like it and every time I saw myself in it all I could think was how I ruined this amazing piece of art. I think what I was truly feeling but was not ready to see was how I had once again abandoned myself. No amount of outside love and validation will fill the void created when we abandon ourselves.

I kept the dress for a very short period after the alteration before gifting it to a friend with the condition that I never have to see her wear it, ironically enough. I did not want the reminder.

Clearly that relationship did not pan out and I had time to myself before meeting my husband. That time was spent getting to know who I am outside of other people, that time is when I took myself back to my foundation and started rebuilding. My husband has only ever known me as a builder, as a woman under construction, as a being of growth and transformation.

Certain boundaries were set very early on in our relationship to ensure we would always belong to ourselves first:

No body policing.
Our books will have their own bookshelves.
Time apart is every bit as important as time together.

More boundaries were added as the years went on and adjustments are made as needed. One of the underlying messages in our relationship being: freedom to be exactly who we are and that be enough. And with that freedom I hold this truth sacred: Never in my life will I cut another dress.

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Jasmine Tea and The Silver Witch

This last week I added two new favorites to my ever growing list of favorite things:

Jasmine Tea and The Silver Witch by Paula Brackston.

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I was at a women’s group last weekend and was perusing the tea selection when I found a sensuality tea that boasted being equivalent to romance in a cup. It was. It was INCREDIBLE. It was a green tea that had strong jasmine notes along with other flavors. Every time I lifted my cup to my lips to take a sip I was overwhelmed (in the best possible way) by the seductive smell of jasmine. It did kind of make me want to go home and make out with my husband I am not going to lie. Strong stuff.

Monday I met a former social work colleague turned friend for tea and found a jasmine white tea on the massive tea list. It was rather expensive compared to many of the other teas, I was curious to see how it compared to the other jasmine green tea. It was phenomenal as well! Jasmine tea is a top three tea for me now.

My plan is to go back to the tea shop near our home where I met my friend last Monday and buy a bag of the loose leaf jasmine tea. It is close to 35.00 a bag though and I am broke social worker. To be conservative I looked for jasmine tea while at the grocery today with my husband. I found one for 3.50 a box and decided I would give it a try. If I liked it I just saved myself 30.00, if I don’t I am only out 3.50.

Verdict: it is just okay. The other two were fragrant and smooth. This one has only the slightest hint of jasmine present and is rather bitter. A disappointment that was honestly half expected.

Moving on to the novel. I loved it. More so than The Sparrow Sisters by Ellen Herrick which I read first thinking I would like it better. I liked that one too, Silver Witch was special though. I really identified with the main characters in the book, as I so often do in my witchy novels, and with good reason! I think maybe I have said this before so at the risk of redundancy; these books are about women who have a deep connection to themselves, the earth/nature, and the greater unknown. They are introverts and highly sensitive/intuitive and embrace their shadows in love without being consumed by their own darkness. Of course I relate to the women/witches of these books.

Where I struggled with Silver Witch was in the editing. I feel like too much was missed. With that said, there may be another answer for this other than poor editing, the writer is not American so it may just be a matter of me not understanding the slight differences in dialect. I loved the character development so much the errors did not bother me. The ending was a bit weak in my opinion as well, yet again, I loved the women so much little else mattered much to me.

I don’t know my next move, in terms of what to read. I have plenty here and none of it is speaking to me. I could pick Red Tent back up and maybe I will. OR I could get a new book at the bookstore by way of the tea shop to pick up the sensational tea I cannot stop thinking about.

Labeling

light and dark

This theme has come up quite a bit within the last week or so. This might be the first of multiple posts on this topic because I feel the direction I want to go is only half-baked, I may have further insights at a later date. Let’s call this a first draft.

It came up first when discussing an ex with other women who were also discussing ex’s. One of the women labels her ex a narcissist and while she and I discovered similarities in how we both experienced our ex’s this is one place where we differ. I do not label my ex anything other than an ex. Maybe that is not true. I label him a liar, and a manipulator, and a betrayer of sacred trust, and a phony, and insecure – AND at the end of that sentence I say: Me too. If I label my ex I do so knowing that anything he is, I am too.

I did not express this to her because I felt no need to. People have different reasons for why they do or do not choose to use labels, my truth about this belongs to me and I felt no real need to voice it in this instance.

Later we talked one on one in further detail, her separation from the ex is recent so I know she is still processing. My separation occurred over a decade ago. I am still processing as well but my processing is coming from a different place. My processing is less about him and more about me. There are unresolved emotional wounds from that relationship that have been left unresolved because:

  1. In the moments where I was experiencing his darkness I abandoned myself.
  2. I was not yet ready to experience my own darkness that I brought to the relationship.

So now my work is going back and picking up all those pieces of myself that I left behind and have not wanted to see because they feel/felt unlovable AND now loving those parts of myself well.

It is not about the other person, it is about the pieces of you that you left behind. This is my truth and my first reason for not labeling him in this way. Because at this point it is not about him so what difference would a label make? None.

Here is my bigger underlying truth about labeling:

Labels are used for lots of different reasons. For example it feels to me (I could have this wrong) that the woman I have been speaking with is using a label with her ex because it is helping her detach and make sense of what she experienced with him. Labels can absolutely help understand something that feels confusing.

Related to that detachment is another reason I believe people use labels, to create a sense of separation. Us and them. In this case narcissist and empath.

This is where I get uncomfortable. I do not believe in us versus them. That concept eliminates all the possibilities that exist in between and that is just not my truth about the world at this point.

I do identify as an empath. That is a label I choose for myself, that does not automatically make this person who I was emotionally wounded by a narcissist though. He is no more narcissist than I am and I am no more empath than he. We both possesses qualities of each.

In that relationship we both experienced the darkness of the other. Empaths are not just beings of light. They are not only as capable of manipulation as narcissists, they are masters of it. That is what comes with the power of feeling others on this level, you can misuse that power and go into a shadow space with it. There is this notion of a divide between empath and narcissist..

That divide says:
One of us is good and the other is bad.
One of us is the abuser, the other is the victim.
One of us is light while the other is dark.

I am sorry but I call bullshit on all that. It is just not my truth. Narcissism is a real thing, absolutely. And if you have ever been the victim of a narcissist than you know how painful their darkness can feel. I am not meaning to minimize anyone’s trauma or experiences. I only mean to underline one of my personal truths and that is: in adult relationships we ALL show up in both shadow and light, some of us lean more one way than the other, sure, it is always both though. I know individuals who have been emotionally wounded by diagnosed narcissists, I am not trying to take that experience away or make it invalid; I am merely trying to bring to light a fuller picture which includes those who have been emotionally victimized by empaths as well. If you think that is not a thing I know my ex would disagree with you.

Another place where labeling has come up recently relates to how labels can make us invisible. I am going to continue with this example of my ex and the label narcissist to avoid outing the other people I spoke to about other labels they experience in their lives. It all applies just the same regardless of the example I use.

So relating to labels and how they make us invisible:

Calling someone a narcissist allows us to strip them of their humanity rendering them invisible. He is no longer (insert name here) he is my ex the narcissist. The moment I say that I no longer have to experience him as a complex human being made up of both shadow and light, I get to detach all of that truth and see him just as a monster. Well I do not believe in monsters. And my truth is if one person in this world is a monster than we all are. Whatever one person is capable of, we are all capable of.

The reason labels exist in the first place is to help sort and understand commonalities. It is not black and white though and that is why it is so important to never lose sight of the person.

Think about all the different labels you identify with- truly take a minute and bring these labels up in your mind – now imagine if you were only seen by everyone else through that lens:

I am someone’s wife AND I am not just someone’s wife.
I am a social worker AND I am not just a social worker.
I am someone’s sister AND I am not just someone’s sister.
I am manipulative AND I am not just manipulative.

I am light AND shadow.
I am grateful AND entitled.
I am you and you are me AND we are no different AND we are completely different.

It’s all of it, everything in between and then some. There is more than one way to add to nine, the possibilities are infinite, and one measly little label will never be able to contain the vastness of a human being. That is my truth.

 

Trash Boob and Swamp Ass

The title of this post makes it sound like it is going to be about some weird erotic super duo. Well it is not I am sorry to say (those super heroes would be strange to say the least) and while I will be talking about tits and ass, it is not in those ways.

So while all that spiritual soul searching stuff was going on in the background this week, I showed up in my humaness and had some weird moments.

Examples of weird human moments this week:

I shut my right boob in a trash can. Yeah, that happened. How you ask?

Well technically it was not a trash can, it was a large recycling bin with a lid, the one outside that we put at the curb once a week. I was taking some recycles out at dusk and it was a beautiful sunset which led to my total distraction while unloading the recycles from the reusable bag I transported them in. I dropped the bag in the bin as well and in order to retrieve it I had to almost completely crawl inside the thing because I am not very big and this bin IS. When I was crawling back out I bumped the lid that had been standing open and it closed on my right boob. It totally left a mark too which I noticed when changing for bed later.

I battled swamp ass all week. Swamp ass is when it is so hot/humid that your ass literally starts to sweat. Yeah, gross I know. I do in home therapy which means I am in and out of my car all day, which means I am in and out of 90+ degree weather all day. That will get you right there. Other contributing factors include having black leather interior in a car with no sunshade and most of my clients do not have working A/C in the home. My entire body feels like a swamp by the time I get home most days. Swamp ass bothers me the most though so I have started wearing dresses and it seems to help.

To top off all this gross weirdness, today when I arrived at my last client’s home I got out of the car and heard a loud hissing. Upon further investigation I discovered a substantial piece of metal protruding from the rear right tire. I was well on my way to a flat. THANKFULLY my husband has run-flat tires on the car so I knew I would not be stranded. I called my husband after my session when I was driving home to make him aware and he confirmed it upon inspection once I arrived home.

So that was my week. Trash tits, swamp ass, and a flat tire. To top all of this mayhem off we are dog sitting a chocolate lab with separation anxiety this weekend. So far that has translated to a lot of howling and whining and an over crowded bed between me, my husband, our boxer, and now the lab. At 1:30am I threw in the towel and headed for the quiet solitude of the guestroom by way of the office to grab a lap top to write with.

It wasn’t a bad week, it was exhausting though, and kinda weird at times. I am definitely worn out AND I am super excited to have a little space to myself right now. Thank goodness for spare rooms to hide out in when escaping an unwanted dog party.

 

Spiritual Undercurrent

I am writing from my husband’s old laptop that for quite sometime acted as my primary writing device. That is, until that sweet man bought me my very first, very own laptop at graduation because he knows how much I love/need to write. He was thoughtful in his choice and picked me a device that is matched to my needs. Now being back on this dinosaur I am really feeling the difference. Still, there is a familiar comfort to this old keyboard and right now I am so happy to be writing I would take a stick to cave wall if that was my only option.

I am exhausted. I am exhausted on almost all levels. It has been a week, not a bad one mind you, exhausting though. Spiritually I have been sitting with some big stuff and processing, then on a more human level it has just been – well exhausting.

In terms of my practice I had moments this week of real connection, mainly with my clients and a former colleague turned friend that I met for lunch. I also experienced a bit of disconnection that I handled better than previous versions of myself would have, yet was still unpleasant.

To elaborate briefly; I find that for individuals who are quite traditional and conservative my approach to practice along with my general way of being, is maybe (I am not quite sure what word to put here..) – confusing- too much- unnerving.. Nothing feels quite right. What I sense is that they do not know what to do with me. This does not always feel negative necessarily, it is just an energy shift I notice. One minute I have them and the next I don’t.

I felt this shift twice this week for sure and while I would prefer to be understood both times it gave me the opportunity to practice what my therapist and I discussed earlier in the week: allowing myself to be seen as I am and not retreating when others do not understand it.

It is not a matter of misunderstanding or miscommunication. That is not what I am talking about when I say I feel misunderstood. It is more a feeling of them seeing me and not valuing my way or my words or who I am authentically. This is where I am practicing being seen without expectations from those around me. This is who I am and who I am belongs to me and I value my ways and my truth, I do not need to be understood to feel worthy and valued.

Them not understanding me is for them to sit with and figure out, that is not my work. My work is holding myself worthy to be seen and know my value inherently exists.

 

 

Counting Gratitude

I am not ready to do any deep writing. I am still processing quite a bit on my own. I do feel the need to express my gratitude though so I will take a little time and space for that.

I am grateful for my job. I am grateful that today when I developed a migraine I did not have to “come home from work” cutting my day short, I got to listen to and honor my body by taking the break I needed. Once I felt rested and ready I picked up where I left off from the comfort of a cold, quiet, dark room.

I am grateful for the little family my husband and I have created. This morning laying in bed together we expressed our love for one another in an authentic way where all parts of ourselves are being shown love from one another. You are messy and you fart in bed AND I love you. I love your messy and your smelly as much as I love your clean and pretty. The message here is so important: messy AND smelly AND clean AND pretty are all loved and welcome in this relationship.

I am grateful for the rest of this little family of ours, Lu. I am grateful to look over and see her lying next to me while I work.

I am grateful for this period of time in my life. This time I am being given is priceless to me. Not having to worry if I am leaving Lu in the crate too long, having time to work AND do a load of laundry, time to take a break and a nap as needed.. The work is important and very emotionally charged, doing it this way makes the balance so much easier so I am not overwhelmed. I am able to honor the space I hold for my clients because I take time to honor myself.

I am grateful for connection, both inside and outside.

I am grateful for stormy weather. Our Florida summers would be too much for me to handle if it was not for the glorious storms we get every afternoon. I am an overcast-70-degree-weather kind of person. 99 degrees and sunny is torture. I have to keep my blinds drawn and create a cave within my home to manage the relentless heat and light. Then come 3 or 4 o’clock I get the much needed break via a dark cloudy storm.

I am grateful for my path and my truth and the woman I am and the woman I was and all the women I have ever been or will ever be. This life and all things in it that I have so much gratitude for are here and possible because one day I woke up and decided I was ready. I was ready to be me, and do my work, and hold myself sacred. For this and every good thing that has come from it, I am grateful.

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