Do you ever have those times when there are so many thoughts running through your head that you can’t put them to page fast enough? It’s as though your brain is working on over-drive and trying to compute the data seems as though it’s an impossible task? Oh and forget shutting it down, or even slowing it down. Once your brain gets like this, all you can do is strap in and hold on for dear-life.
As previously mentioned on this blog, nutrition was never something that I knew a lot about. Though I still don’t know a ton, I am learning each and every day how to make smarter choices with my food. No longer am I someone who is going to eat a bowl of frosted flakes for dinner and call it a day.
In an effort to be more cognizant of the food that I am eating, particularly the food I am eating at night, I am going to start taking photos of it and sharing them on my blog so that I can have it to look back on for inspiration in future recipe planning. I’m going to title these all “What’s for dinner?”
Tonight is a ‘Quinoa-Kale Power Salad‘.
- Cherry Tomatoes
- Red Pepper
- 1 cooked, cajun chicken breast
- 2 tablespoons balsamic vinaigrette dressing
With respect to nutrition, portion sizes and amounts of food that one should intake per meal will differ from person to person. It’s completely individualized and there is no ‘one size fits all’ method. What may look like a lot to someone might look quite small to someone else. What is healthy to someone, and might be the right nutrients they need might not work for someone else.
I’m consistently learning more each day, and want to ensure that I am keeping track of what I do, how I change and what I make of this.
Honestly, my thoughts make a lot more sense inside my head then on the page in front of me. Nevertheless, here I go:
It’s funny, you know… putting your faith in someone. You work so hard to keep the walls up for so long and someone waltzes into your life convincing you to let your guard down. And they abuse that. And they abuse the trust you put in them. That’s how it always happens, right? And instead of finding yourself back at square, it’s almost as though you’ve reverted back to step negative four. You’re worse off than before and that’s just how it goes.
I truly believe that there are people in this world who will opt to believe you’re a bad person in order to shed the guilt they feel for how they treat you.
‘If someone tears you down, that’s a reflection on them, not you.’
I have to keep telling myself this. And truthfully, it’s not easy task convincing myself. But, it’s a really good reminder, every day. Good people don’t tear other people down. Good people don’t convince you to trust them and then fuck that up. (Excuse my language)
It’s easy to think that you’re the problem. It’s extremely easy for me to think that I am the cause, that this is my fault and that I deserve the poor behaviour, language and attitude being sent my direction.
I deserve more. Good people do not tear others down. I deserve good people in my life and so do you. Don’t ever settle for anything less than what you know you deserve.
You’re not the problem. They are. If they screw with your trust, don’t give it back to them.
Okay, I think I’m done for now. I might add more to this later, but right now that’s where my head is at.
Stress eating is a real issue for me. I’m sad to even say that out loud. When I get stressed I start to eat. And when I start eating, I don’t stop.
Last night I ate an entire bag of fuzzy peach candies at 2 am. Why? I can’t tell you why as I don’t even know myself.
After I was unceremoniously fired on New Year’s Eve, I remember going home and eating an entire pie. The feeling of stress that I felt that day hasn’t really gone away, or even lessened for that matter. I would say that, if anything, it’s increased.
On paper I have an extremely strong resume. In person I am an even stronger candidate. Somehow, though, I can’t seem to figure this job market out. And I’m noticing that I really like to stress eat. Most times not even realizing that I am doing so.
My mom, bless her heart is going through chemotherapy treatments right now, has been continually trying to pump up my mood, every day. Every day. I do have some incredibly loving and wonderful people in my life. I do. And when I am around them, it’s a welcome distraction and what I need to keep myself moving forward.
Those moments when I am alone, though… those are the moments I don’t trust myself. Those are the moments when the stress eating happens.
I wish that I could retrain my psyche to tell me I need to spend 5 hours in the gym every time I get stressed. I wish I could retrain my mind to stop reaching for food. Oh, we’re all a little flawed somehow. Me, I have no will power. When things go wrong, I reach for food.
It’s not good. I know. I’ve been lectured on it enough in my life. But hey, at least it’s not cocaine or something stupid like that. That’s all I’m telling myself for now. At least until life calms down a little…. until my mom’s cancer is in remission, until I’m a member of the working class once again… until I can wake up in the morning and be excited for the day ahead.
For now, in the words of Dory, I ‘just keep swimming’.
Gabe, the three legged chihuahua is giving me some hardcore side-eye right now. How dare I sit on this bed without allowing him to sit on my lap.
It’s been a little more than one month since I created a wordpress account and subsequently, this blog. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the sincere and genuine kindness that I would have come across just by making a blog ‘on-the-line’. (Shout out to anyone who has seen ‘The Intern’) I’ve come to find that the interwebs are filled with incredibly kind and genuine people with nothing but love to share and provide total strangers. It’s a nice feeling to know that there are so many of you out there. It gives me hope. Thank you to each and every one of you who has shown me kindness. Especially to those of you who left me suggestions on how to help with my anxiety.
In other news, on February 11th I placed an order for earrings on a boutique website. I’d been eyeing them up for a while, deciding whether or not I could justify spending the money on them, and finally decided to pull the trigger. I paid for express shipping in hopes that the ‘2-3 Business days’ promised under the express column meant there might be a slight chance that I could have them for Valentine’s Day. When I hadn’t received a shipping notification by February 14th I sent an email to the boutique to ask where my earrings were. Apparently, unbeknownst to anyone, there’s a 5-10 business day handling period prior to shipping. So paying for express shipping would be 2-3 to ship following the 5-10 handling period at the boutique. As a small business, I can understand a need for time to process orders. What I cannot understand is why you don’t tell your customers that. Had I known that there was a handling period, I would not have paid for express shipping. Perhaps it’s just my needing to rant, but as a small business, you should be willing to be transparent with your customers about things like that. It’s good business and it’s good for survival.
My anxiety has gone down considerable amounts since yesterday. I think that I was overly nervous for my cat-scan last night. Being confined to small spaces, especially a cat scan machine, wasn’t sitting well with me. It’s nerve-wracking thinking something could be wrong with me. I’m trying to practice patience, though. And also, to find solace in the fact that they are trying to figure out what’s wrong and not just leaving me be. Knight and I went to the gym today t blow off some steam and that helped considerably. I’m going to take some of the suggestions that were left in the comments of my last post and try to start working them into my days. The way I figure, it’s worth a shot.
Plans for tomorrow include sending off my resume to a few more leads. Also – there’s apparently a coffee shop in town that has a wall of old books you can sit and read while you’re in there. Perhaps I’ll take my laptop and spend a few hours outside of the house.
Reminder to self: just breathe.
It’s time to find a job. A job that furthers my career. Just waiting on someone to realize what a badass addition I would be to their office.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Sending love ❤
Every time that I let my mind fall blank for a moment… every time… I am overcome with anxious thoughts, an anxious heart and an extremely anxious soul.
I can’t control my thoughts.
I’ve had two clonazepams today and my heart is still racing. This is the feeling I wish that I could explain to those that don’t struggle with anxiety. This is what I wish they could understand. Nothing needs to be overly wrong, it’s just… some days are worse than others. Some days it’s harder to leave your room. Some days it’s all you can do to just be alive.
I know this. I do. And I know that if I jut give myself some time I will eventually calm down. At least I hope that I will. But for the time being, I need a distraction. I need something to put my mind towards. I need a project. I need to make myself busy so that my mind doesn’t have time to get the better of me.
It makes me angry when I hear people say things like “don’t be such a girl” or “you fight like a girl” or “you throw like a girl”. As a female it gets thrown your direction so dang much that eventually you just start to believe that being female is a bad thing. You just accept it. You know what it means and you don’t argue with it because arguing would take far too much time and effort on someone who doesn’t want to understand.
I am a girl. I have a short stature, and long hair, curvy hips and small hands. I’m proud to be a girl. I do fight like a girl – because I am a girl. Fighting like a girl doesn’t mean that I’m a bad fighter, or that I’m weak, or that I’m incompetent. I’m extremely competent and if it came down to a physical fight I could hold my own with many men.
I do throw like a girl. It might not be as far as my male counterparts, but that doesn’t stop me from sinking baskets, or clinching that out at home plate. It doesn’t stop me from hitting the waste basket EVERY…SINGLE…TIME.
Being a girl is not a bad thing. It pisses me off when people throw it around as though it’s an insult. Just because I was born female does not mean that I am slower, dumber, weaker and not as good as a man. I make my own money, I pay my own bills, I work, I work out, I fix broken pipes, change flat tires, lift heavy boxes, and can turn around and put on a dress and heels after it’s all done.
I am not weak. And being who I am is not less than anyone else in this world.
Being female is not a bad thing. It’s not a weak thing. It’s not something that we should be ashamed of, sad about, or made to feel as though we’re not good enough when a man wants to put down another man. And women do it to, don’t get me wrong. I would say that infuriates me even more – when women say it to one another. I just want to hold a playback button to their ears and ask ‘do you her yourself right now?’
As a gender, we should not be treated as though we’re lesser than because we don’t grow up to play in the NBA. ‘You throw like a girl’ is not an insult and should not be used as such. ‘Don’t be such a pussy’ should never be used as a means to make someone look weak.
Firstly, do you really need to insult this person? Could your efforts be put forth to something more positive? Secondly, if your insulting someone is coming at the cost of degrading or demeaning an entire gender then you need to work on your insults. Tearing other people down is not a way to get your point across.
You know what, save the insults all together. When your girlfriend beats you in an arm wrestle, I hope you’re proud of her. When you’re daughter hits a home-run at bat, I hope you’re extremely proud of her. If you really, genuinely, must make reference to someone you know as being weak, just use the term weak. That’s it. Nothing more. Leave women and girls out of it.
Let us throw how we want to throw and live how we want to live. The world is a much nicer place when we’re not verbally or physically beating up on one another for the gender which we’re born into.