Happy And Healthy Lifestyle

Dear pain-in-my-feet: I’m sorry we ever met. Remind me where I made your acquaintance? Oh, yes—on my February trip to Death Valley, where I assumed long days of hiking had caused a rock bruise. Instead of healing, you got worse and jumped to the other foot, too. Thanks for the reminder. It helps. Because I was there in the Valley to grieve my dead sweetheart, Tony, with rituals and tears and a personal funeral. I hate being forced to walk this earth without him. So I see you now for what you really are—grief and longing and fury that my soles keep on treading. Let me cry—okay, wail—for a while. Again. More grief to work through—endless, it seems. Repeatedly over my life, I’ve suffered bodily pain caused more by stress, anger, or grief than by anything physical. The first time, in my thirties, back pain stabbed at me for a year, through treatments ranging from drugs to physical therapy. The more I tried to fix it, the more it hurt. It disappeared like magic three days after I read

“Our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance.” ~ Brené Brown Sitting there watching The Greatest Showman , with tears pouring down my face, I asked myself why does this song, in fact this whole film, make me cry so much? Why does it evoke so much emotion in me? “I am brave, I am bruised, I am who I’m meant to be. This is ME.” “Look out cos here I come, And I’m marching on to the beat I drum, I’m not scared to be seen, I make no apologies. This is ME.” I am brave, I am bruised, and I know, after many years of working on myself, that I am who I am meant to be. But if I am honest, I am still not marching to the beat of my drum, I am still scared to be seen, and I am still apologizing. The reason why this film makes me so emotional is because it brings up emotional scars that have still not fully healed. It highlights a part of me that still needs work. I watch these people who have lived their lives as outcasts and have never before found som

“It’s okay to let go of those who couldn’t love you. Those who didn’t know how to. Those who failed to even try. It’s okay to outgrow them, because that means you filled the empty space in you with self-love instead. You’re outgrowing them because you’re growing into you. And that’s more than okay, that’s something to celebrate.” ~Angelica Moone Once upon a time, I met and fell in love with the man of my dreams. He was the most romantic, loving, amazing person I had ever met and for some reason, he wanted to be with me. I was a nobody. I was the little girl who had lost her mommy and had control issues. I was the princess needing to be rescued by a prince. And I was rescued, whisked away to a whole other state, and loved and adored by this wonderful man whom I eventually married. We were together for almost nine years. But my history of eating disorders caused a disconnect. I obsessed over food, exercise, and the slightest interference in my perfectly planned day. We no longer co

“Have a little faith in your ability to handle whatever’s coming down the road. Believe that you have the strength and resourcefulness required to tackle whatever challenges come your way. And know that you always have the capacity to make the best of anything. Even if you didn’t want it or ask for it, even if seems scary or hard or unfair, you can make something good of any loss or hardship. You can learn from it, grow from it, help others through it, and maybe even thrive because of it. The future is unknown, but you can know this for sure: Whatever’s coming, you got this.” ~Lori Deschene As an obstetrician in Manhattan, I see the following scene often… A woman who is newly pregnant walks into my office, her eyes wide, her fingers clutched around her phone or a notebook and pen. She has just come from her first ultrasound and is now looking at me in total fear and anxiety . Not because she was told she has had a miscarriage—there is a beautiful heartbeat noted. Not because she ha

“I really believe in the philosophy that you create your own universe. I’m just trying to create a good one for myself.” ~Jim Carrey If someone had told me years ago I’d one day be serving mushroom mafalda to a former VIP client, I’d have laughed in their face. Not an “I wouldn’t be caught dead doing this” type of cackle; more with an “I haven’t waited tables in twenty-five years, why would I start now?” kind of incredulity. But it’s true. I’ve gone from defining myself as “Career Girl Sam”—toiling in an industry that was killing me—to a far simpler existence. Literally pulled from my laughable one-page resume: giving people a positive dining experience. Now this trope may seem overdone. People quit their highfalutin jobs every day. Maybe they’re sick of the rat race. Maybe they wake up and realize the lifestyle they’re trying to maintain is unnecessary. Or maybe their mental health is under attack (mine was). Whatever the reason, walking away from a pressure-cooker job is not a n

“Beauty doesn’t come from physical perfection. It comes from the light in our eyes, the spark in our hearts, and the radiance we exude when we’re comfortable enough in our skin to focus less on how we look and more on how we love.” ~Lori Deschene For as long as I can remember, my mom had long shiny silky black hair down to her knees. It was magical in the way that it attracted people and inspired curiosity and connection. Everywhere we went, strangers approached her, usually timidly at first with a brief compliment, and then, after receiving her signature friendly head nod and open smile, they relaxed and the questions and comments would pour in as if an unspoken invitation to connect was made and accepted. “How long did it take you to grow your hair?” “How long does it take to wash it?” “It must take forever to dry.” “Can I touch it?” “Wow, it feels like silk! Annie, come feel her hair!” “Does it ever get caught in anything?” “You must spend a lot of money on shampoo.” Rega

“The way we treat our children directly impacts what they believe about themselves.” ~Ariadne Brill Growing up, I always felt odd. I often wondered what was wrong with me. I compared myself to my friends and always thought they had a better life than me. They had both parents still together, went on family vacations. It was not that I was jealous or bitter, it was just that they seemed to be ‘normal’ and happy. Whatever that means. I never remember my parents being together. My parents divorced when I was two. I lived with my mother and older sister, who was eight years older than me. My mother was a nurse, and we grew up in various nurses’ residences, as she did not have money to buy a house. She was diagnosed with depression, and I remember nights and weekends with her being totally detached from us. She often seemed like a statue just sitting in the lounge chair or lying on her bed watching TV. She was morbidly obese and ate to control her emotions. She never went out except t

“You are not too old and it is not too late.” ~Unknown In less than a month, I’ll be hitting a major “milestone” birthday. I quit my full-time job six months ago, ending a twenty-plus year career in education, and have spent time thinking about what I want the next chapter of my life to look like. I found myself thinking back to a drawing exercise I did a few years ago that has made such an impact on my being willing to make major changes in my life. Entering my mid-forties, I had come to a point where something just felt “off.” I wasn’t sleeping well, often waking at 3am with anxiety about real or imagined catastrophes. I was often stressed and short-tempered. I was gaining weight and my health wasn’t in the top-notch condition the way it had always been. I felt directionless and unmotivated, but wasn’t sure what I would rather be doing. I recalled a TED talk I had seen in which Patti Dobrowolski discussed the power of “drawing your future.” While the concept seemed a little sill

“Sit with it. Sit with it. Sit with it. Sit with it. Even though you want to run. Even when it’s heavy and difficult. Even though you’re not quite sure of the way through. Healing happens by feeling.” ~Dr. Rebecca Ray When my husband died from terminal brain cancer in 2014, I learned all about deep grief . The kind of grief that plunges you into a valley of pain so vast it takes years to claw your way out. In the beginning, I didn’t want to deal with grief because the pain was too intense. So, I dodged grief and circled around the pit of despair, trying to outrun or outwit it. My biggest grief fault was imagining an end. In my naiveté I figured I’d reach a point where I could wash my hands of it and claim, “Whew, I’m done!” But that’s not how grief and living with monumental loss works. Grief doesn’t like to be ignored. The hardest lesson for any griever is learning that grief never goes away. You just figure out how to make room for it. A few years after my husband died, I kept s

f “Patriarchy is the expression of the immature masculine. It is the expression of Boy psychology, and, in part, the shadow—or crazy—side of masculinity. It expresses the stunted masculine, fixated at immature levels.” ~ Robert Moore & Doug Gillette Seventy eggs, packs of bacon, and multiple types of beer filled the fridge. On the counter lay handles of liquor and energy drinks. The dining table was lined with snacks galore: chips, Cheese-its, popcorn, Oreos, Doritos, and dozens of Fireball nips. I’ve been to many bachelor parties, and it’s not surprising that health is never a priority. Yet this time, things felt different, or at least they should have. Most of the men present were fathers approaching forty. Everyone was married, had highly respectable careers, and lived in nice homes across the US. It was clear that this weekend wouldn’t be a free-for-all of strip clubs. We no longer had the beer guzzling metabolism of our twenties or the naivete of our youth. But if not late