Guilty Pleasures

Have you ever noticed that children do not understand the concept of a guilty pleasure?

Sunday afternoon found me in the bath tub after the completion of a daunting to-do list. I decided to do this bath right – I had the window open to listen to the rain, a glass of wine and a newly downloaded Kindle book. I had no rush, no worries.

As I lay back into the scented bubbles, enjoying the feeling of my arms floating, cradled by the warm water, I was taken back to my childhood.

I used to spend hours in tubs – both of the hot and bath varieties – savoring the slippery denseness surrounding my buoyant frame. I would stay in the waters until hunger or a completed book drove me out, never feeling guilty for wasted time or feeling pressure to accomplish something more meaningful. On the nights I spent at my dad’s apartment in my childhood, he would knock on the bathroom door to check on me about every 30 minutes. Many nights, he made it to four knocks before I finally emerged from the tub.

I understood the concept of pleasure. But I never thought to associate it with guilt.

So why does that change? Why do I now feel guilty or lazy when I indulge? Why do I judge myself?

Part of it is out of necessity. When we are young, our parents and guardians act as our voice of reason, limiting our overindulgences (“You can only have two cookies”). We do not have to self-limit; it is done for us.

But, at some point, that regulation has to shift to us. We have to learn how to work before play and eat our broccoli before our ice cream. We become the care takers and the needs of others are placed before our own. Without that mental management, we would all be living in our parent’s homes, eating Oreo’s all day and playing video games. Well, except for me. I’d be in a bath tub with a book. And probably broccoli.

The problem is that, at some point, many of us get too good at using that internal voice. Not that we always obey it (Ever had an internal argument about if you should eat that dessert? Yeah, who won?) but that we usually feel guilty when we do not.

We indulge. But we don’t necessarily enjoy.

That dessert tastes much better when you’re not berating yourself for eating it. The hope is that the internal monologue of guilt will keep your willpower in check. That if you feel bad about the behavior, you will avoid it in the future. Reality doesn’t work that way. Rarely does guilt about an indulgence keep us in check. We just act as though it does. The reality is that our cravings for whatever the indulgence are more fully satisfied when we fully give in to the experience.

So what’s the answer? How do we balance our need for self-regulation and yet still enjoy our indulgences without guilt?

I know that I am going to let my parental mind set my guidelines and then turn control over to my inner child to enjoy the experience.

All I can say is that it’s good my Kindle has limited battery power. Otherwise, I may never get out of the bath:)

Do You Ever Hear That Voice?

Do you ever hear that voice? The one that tells you that you’re not (good/smart/strong/thin/pretty/rich) enough?

The voice that finds your insecurities and broadcasts them back to you?

The voice that makes you question your choices. Your life. Your worth.

Do you ever hear it? Do you listen?

I’ve been listening to it lately.

It started innocently enough. I needed to buy a new pair of sandals to replace a pair that self-destructed. I made a stop at the shoe store on my way to gym. At the store, I took off my gym shoes and peeled off my socks only to discover that the polish on my toenails was chipped and half rubbed off (the natural consequence of spending more time running than on toe painting).

I looked up and noticed that all of the other women in the store were perfectly polished – nails and otherwise.

I felt embarrassed. I felt ashamed.

The voice whispered to me that I was not good enough.

I got over it enough to locate a pair of sandals and escape to gym, where I thought I would be safe.

But the voice followed.

It watched the other women in the gym and was quick to point out comparisons.

“Look at that! She can squat 140 pounds. You can’t do that!”

“Oh, look. She’s wearing that cute Athleta outfit you wanted. Too bad you only have your old race t-shirt on.”

“Look at her form on leg lifts! You’ll never be flexible enough to do that.”

Over the next couple weeks, the voice was like a malignant parrot on my shoulder. I’d shake it off for a time, but it kept coming home to roost. It seemed to feel the need to comment on every area of my life:

When a pair of shorts I wore last summer wouldn’t quite make the journey over my hips, “Well, look at that. Getting a little chunky there, are we?”

When one of my students complained about a boring lesson, “Wow, you can’t even make M&Ms entertaining. That’s pretty bad.”

When I looked at my book sales and saw that they had slipped, “What did you expect? It’s not like you’re any good at this.”

When another week went by and I hadn’t finished a piece I started for Huffpo, “You’re just a fraud anyways. Just give up on it.”

Yesterday, after more than a week of this verbal abuse by my own critical mind, I decided I would take some action. I stopped at Walmart on the way to yoga, thinking that some new makeup would do the trick. Maybe eye liner has some magical gag order action. The eyeliner is nice (and much easier to apply than the broken, stubby pencil I had been using that always threatened to leave splinters along with its color) but it didn’t shut up the voice.

That’s because I was allowing the voice to distract me from the true insecurities.

I wasn’t really upset about unpainted toenails or curvier hips.

It’s bigger than that.

The life of a teacher has a rhythm: frantic action in August and September settle into a routine that slowly builds in intensity until it peaks in May. And then we breathe.

Except I’m not content to simply breathe.

I’m not content to simply be a teacher.

I want more.

But I don’t know how.

Last summer, I was singularly focused on finishing the book and getting the wellness coaching business up and running.

I succeeded on both fronts.

This year, I have so much I want to do.

But I also have doubts. Am I wasting my time and energy? Which paths do I explore and which should I ignore?

Last summer, I posted four small bulletin boards above my desk, labeled body (marathon training), book (notes, etc. for writing it), blog (goals and post ideas) and business (goals and info for the coaching). I have not altered the boards much since the summer. As I look through the pages tacked to the squares, I realize that I am accomplished most of what I intended last summer.

So why is it not enough?

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Change is scary. Risk is scarier still. My inner critic is telling me to maintain the status quo, to not dare to post bigger goals and intentions. The voice tells me not to try so that I do not risk failure.

Today, I am telling my inner voice to shove it.

I am dedicating today to rebuilding my boards. I am committing to posting bigger goals and aspirations than before. I am pledging to sort through my ideas and clarify my paths. I am promising to use those boards as inspiration and motivation this summer.

So, yeah, I hear that voice. But today, I’m telling it to shut up. After I paint my toenails, that is:)

(This post makes me think of that old SNL skit with Stewart Smally: “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me.” 🙂 )

Don’t Miss Out!

book saleAvailable on Kindle for only $2.99 for a limited time!

5.0 out of 5 stars Incredible story of loss and growth, February 22, 2013
Amazon Verified Purchase(What’s this?)
This review is from: Lessons From the End of a Marriage (Kindle Edition)

I purchased this book after reading an article by the author about having symptoms of PTSD after sudden and unexpected spousal abandonment, something that I was unfortunate enough to experience a few months ago. The article really slow to me and I decided to buy the book to read the author’s story.

The book is beautifully written and extremely engrossing. I couldn’t put it down. Although it is written from a female perspective, I found a lot to relate to as a man. In the end, this book validated my feelings and offered me great hope for the future.

5.0 out of 5 stars Phoenix Rising, November 21, 2012
Amazon Verified Purchase(What’s this?)

Phoenix rising from the ashes is a myth conveying an inherent message. “LESSONS…” is a true story. It is poignant story, yet the lessons herald inspiration and hope. It is the bona fide story of a real Phoenix who, in the crux of tsunamic devastation, determined to transcend that moment! “LESSONS From the End of a Marriage” is FOR ANY and EVERY ONE who seeks to know that it is possible to sift through cataclysmic debris, and not only rise and walk… YES! You can even run through mud and fire!

The author’s writing style is raw gut honest, laced with sparks of wit and ever-growing wisdom. You’ll find out that it’s ok to crumble, cry, rage, curse… because then you will also find yourself able to laugh, hope, believe, love and live — stronger, better, healthier and more fully alive than before!

Read Lisa Arends story and realize that it is indeed possible to metamorphose tragedy into triumphs!

Read “LESSONS…” and learn more about what Lisa has to offer you! She not only tells a riveting story, she walks her talk and wants nothing more than for you to be encouraged to actualize your full potential. You will see that it is possible to not only survive, you can soar by learning to see life from perspectives that will empower you to live your life with a vibrance and appreciation like never before! And you don’t have to turn into a vampire 🙂

4 of 4 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Couldn’t Put It Down, October 17, 2012
Amazon Verified Purchase(What’s this?)

This is an extraordinarily well written book that looks into the mind and heart of a woman whose life topples, but who finds the strength to not only get it back, but learn from it and thrive. One doesn’t have to have a troubled marriage, or a marriage on the brink, to be captivated by this book. I took away many insights that remain with me. GREAT BOOK; GREAT READ.

Read about the journey behind the book: Adventures In Publishing

Thought Patterns

The way we pattern our thoughts has an enormous impact on our mental health and happiness. Thought patterns can be divided into two main categories. I’m going to call these recursive and input-output. A note to those who are math-phobic: I am going to use some math concepts to explain these thinking patterns. Stay with me; I promise I’ll make it simple:)

Recursive Thinking

In math, we can look at functions (think of these like a rule or pattern) recursively by only considering the output. The rule ignores the input completely and only considers the starting output and the pattern to get from one term to the next. For example, in the table below, the rule would say, “Start with 12 and add 3 each time.” Recursive rules feed upon themselves, with each output based on the one before. They are like a chain, with each term linked to the one before and the one after.

InputIn recursive thinking, your thought pattern is initiated by something: a memory, a trauma, a comment. Your thoughts then feed upon themselves with no regard for any external input. This type of thinking can lead to depression or anxiety as the brain simply continues the emotionally equivalent of “plus 3” with no end in sight. When you feel stuck emotionally, this is the type of pattern you are experiencing. When your reaction builds well beyond the initial stimulus, you are thinking recursively. When you feel sad or angry or anxious even in the face of calm, you are allowing the chain of thought to continue unbroken.

Input-Output Thinking

An input-output rule in math relates the output to the input. For example, in the (identical) table below, the input-output rule would say, “Multiply the input by 3 and add 9.” The output is dependent upon the input. Change the input, and you alter the output.

In input-output thinking, your reactions are based upon the external stimulus rather than your previous thoughts. You may be sad, but the emotion and associated thought patterns are due to your situation. You may respond in anger or feel fear but these are due to the inputs you experience. If you change the input, the associated thoughts will change with it.

Recursion is easy, effortless – which is why it is so valuable in computer programming. Its endless loops create the self-similarity needed for programs to run unaltered. Recursive thinking can be beneficial when it is positive in nature, but all too often it is the negative thoughts that pull us into its pattern.

Recursion has a weakness. Since each output is dependent upon the one before, if you break the chain, you break the pattern. If you catch yourself in this cycling thought pattern, find a way to interrupt the flow. Do something differently to break the cycle. Whatever you normally do or say, don’t. Recursion requires a hands-off approach to survive. So get your hands dirty and change it.

Then, consciously shift your thinking to input-output and deliberately choose positive inputs to encourage positive outputs. Surround yourself with nature, connect with friends, do something that feels good. Change the input and your thoughts will follow.

Input

Nourishment

In my former life, I viewed eating as a purely functional act.  I was not concerned with the quality of food that entered my mouth, as long as it contained the proper macronutrients at the proper time. For almost ten years, my lunch consisted of a premixed protein shake because it was high in protein, low in calories, and could be sucked down in 15 minutes while I tutored struggling students in the school cafeteria.  For ten years, I was content with that lunch.

Then something changed.  I realized that not only did I not look forward to lunch, but that I had even begun to dread it.  The shakes met my nourishment in the most basic sense, but that was all.  At this point, I had already begun to visit my kitchen for more than a chat with the microwave, so I decided to restructure my lunches to incorporate what I was learning in the kitchen.

I had to start with the practical: my hours as a teacher are long and my lunch times are short.  I needed to be able to find foods that could be cooked and prepped on Sunday and reheated quickly at school. I started by collecting recipes and cookbooks (about the only kind of book that didn’t fill the shelves in my old life).  I found I enjoyed seeking out ideas and combinations, always seeking to maximize my veggie intake and ensure that I would get substantial protein and fiber with each meal.  I learned that raw veggies have to be limited; there simply is not enough time to eat them all.  Likewise, finger foods are a no-go in the germ laden land of a middle school.  Even with those limitations, the options seemed endless.

An amazing metamorphosis occurs in my fridge every weekend.  Mounds of greens and veggies are chopped and cooked into submission and divided into color-coded containers ready for the week ahead. The house fills with the aromas of a variety of spices, as the sounds of the food processor echo through the house.  The island is the scene of assembly line style food preparation.

The consequences of the change in my lunch menu were astounding.  My health improved; I no longer caught every cold that came through the school.  My attitude improved, as I had a lunch I looked forward to (this is especially a motivator on Monday mornings).  My afternoon workouts improved, now that I had enough fuel in my system to support the training.  I became a de facto educator about plant-based diets as teachers and students began to inquire about my lunch.

But, most of all, I found nourishment.  For my body.  And for my soul.

I send the message to myself every weekend that I am worth the effort. That I matter. That feeding my needs is just as important as feeding the needs of those around me.

I kept the menu for this week simple; it is a short week and I don’t want to dedicate much of my time off to cook.  I decided to make Hottie Black-Eyed Peas & Greens from Appetite for Reduction, one of my go-to cookbooks for healthy, easy, vegetarian meals. I always try to incorporate fruits and veggies of different colors in every meal, so I’m adding sweet potatoes mashed with almond milk and vanilla rice protein along with some blackberries, since they were on sale;)

Here’s the food ready to cook.

And here, after 45 minutes of preparation (barring the work the ol’ trusty slow cooker did overnight on the beans), is the final product.

I’m waiting to pack the blackberries until Wednesday morning, so that is why they are absent.  Now, I can enjoy the rest of my time off knowing that I have healthy, nourishing food to get me through the week.