Sugar: White or Black?

I’m an all-or-nothing kind of gal.  If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing 110%.  And if I can’t give it 110%, then more often or not, I blow it off completely.  Sometimes, I’ll tell myself I’m a failure in the process of doing so.

As I get older, however, I can see where this all-or-nothing thinking has not served me so well.  If I’m not at the top of my field, it doesn’t mean I’m a fuck up.  It simply means I might have to settle for being second-best.  I see how my younger son’s perfectionism causes him (and us) more stress than he needs to experience, and while my older son’s lackadaisical attitude toward his obligations sometimes makes us grind our teeth, he usually winds up doing fine without killing himself in the process.

Someone whose opinion I trust advised me to move toward life’s gray areas and away from black and white thinking.  This means that when I eat something that’s not on my plan for the day, I don’t have to let it ruin my eating for the whole day.  When I have a bad workout or injure myself, it doesn’t mean that I have to bail on the gym for a week to recover from my psychic trauma.  And sometimes, it’s okay to say “no” when you want to, even if it means that you risk no longer being the perfect wife or mother or daughter in someone else’s eyes.

Kohlrabi Greens

A few weeks ago, I read an article online about how the “tail to snout” philosophy of using every part of an animal for food has spread to vegetables.   Chefs and home cooks alike are using carrot tops, watermelon rinds, and less-than-perfect berries to make pestos, soups, pickles and braises.  The very next day, I saw bundles of kohlrabi at my farmers’ market and was inspired.  I love kohlrabi bulbs but never thought about eating the leaves.  When the vendor asked me if I wanted the leaves cut off before she bagged my vegetables, I said no, already planning how I’d cook them.

They were even better than I dared to hope.

Ahimsa? I Hardly Know Ya.

I was sweating, twisting, and flowing in a room filled with dozens of other yoga students.  We were there for a day-long intensive led by a moderately well-known Midwestern teacher who, from the moment he arrived, seemed overly smug for his stature and reputation.  However, I was looking forward to a day of learning new techniques, sequences, and cues, so I let go of my first impressions and was having a good time until halfway into the practice, the teacher said, “Picture a raw, slimy piece of chicken in one hand and a fresh, crisp bunch of greens in the other.  Which would you choose?”

Who am I?

I am a mom. I am a wife. I am a yoga teacher. I do my best to eat a paleo/primal diet. And I am working my way through recovery from an eating disorder. I’ve always loved to write and wanted to share my life with others who might find my struggles interesting, inspiring, or simply entertaining.