Select Page
Good Morning, Good Day

Good Morning, Good Day

Good mornings are the catalyst to good days. 

Let me elaborate.
In saying good I don’t mean the birds are chirping, the sun in shining, your clothes are magically laid out, Mary P is serving you a pour over and your kid doesn’t shit their pants while getting in their car seat (Hi!)
I’m talking about fluidity
Structure
Routine without strict schedules.
Something I have experienced this year was a morning routine that shifted.
Initially the shift felt “wrong” and I spent some time clawing the walls to regain control.
Knock, knock? It’s not always about you.
Shocking, I know.
Shifts are not wrong, they are part of life and for a control-freak like me, hardly come easy.
Same for you? Continue.
A possible scenario:
You wake up to the sound of your kid (your dog, your cat, the UPS man, whatever) asking for something.
You have 1 hour to get everyone fed, brushed, watered, planned, packed, buckled.
“I forgot to make my overnight oats! FUCK”!
“Where’s my bra”?
“No, you cannot eat mayonnaise for breakfast.”
“Ugh, I left my lunchbox at the office.”
It’s cool, you’ll skip breakfast this one time (c’mon)
You don’t need a clean shirt.
You’ll just get lunch out today.
When’s the last time I drank water?
Fuck, I have a meeting.
I guess I’ll wait to cook and eat when I get home at 8 pm.
(Plot Twist: by the time you get home you’re so ravenous that the laminate flooring oddly resembles a hoagie.
You stare into the open refrigerator, fingering the bag of shredded cheese while simultaneously managing to fit in some Triscuits.
You grab a Diet Coke on your way to bed where your spend the next two hours caffeinating and falling into the Pinterest abyss.
Then, somehow you’ll eventually fall asleep around midnight.
Sound familiar?
I know.

A possible scenario:
Scarlett wakes up between 6:30-7:00 am.
In order to not feel like I am waking to an earthquake happening, it suits me to set my alarm for 5 am.
I open my eyes and immediately grab my notebook on my nightstand.
I really love writing (playing video games, scrapbooking, bird-watching, whatever you’re into).
I spend 20 minutes just writing. Sometimes for work, sometimes I plan out our day if I haven’t already. Sometimes I write what I dreamt about, sometimes I make a grocery list.
WHO CARES.
I drink water before I have any coffee or tea.
“Fuck. I forgot to make my overnight oats”!
That’s cool, I have plenty of time to get breakfast for her and I together.
I wash my face, find my clothes, grab an outfit for Moonie.
I assess the damage from yesterday. Did I get those clothes put away? That’s cool, I can do that really quick. Am I about to step on a truck or tiara? It’s cool, I have time to pick up.
I check our schedule.
If I know we’re going to be on the road for lunch, I grab our lunches I assembled the night before. Didn’t assemble lunches the night before? No bigs, I still have about 45 minutes before my kid wakes.
I pack our belongings.
I make our breakfast.
Then, I open my computer and begin working while I wait for her to wake.

Do I still sometimes press snooze? Sometimes. Do I still stub my toe on the side of the bed? Occasionally. Do I still spill coffee on my notebook? Absolutely.

This is not a cure all but it’s also not rocket science.
If you start your day off a SHAMBLES, consistently, every single day.
Frazzled, tired, dehydrated, pissed off, no plan
ETCETERA
What is going to be the voice that STOPS you when you say, “Ah, Fuck It.”
On that note, HOW MANY TIMES A WEEK ARE YOU SAYING AH, FUCK IT?

I have written about this before and I will continue doing so until friends, family, clients, ANYONE doesn’t continue asking themselves why it is they continue to fall short.
Or, resort to binge eating. Again.
Or, hate the morning with their kids, as usual.
Or, become so overwhelmed by all the shit that’s everywhere that they can’t even enjoy their own home.

You matter.
This isn’t some fad or movement.
This is about handling your business so that you don’t fall to pieces before 9 am.
This is so you actually enjoy the breakfast table with the people you share it with.
This is about having a plan so that even when things come up (because they will) you don’t feel screwed or defeated.

You matter.
Taking time for yourself does not make you selfish, it makes you A. Human B. A better partner/parent/employee/friend.
If I rise from bed all hair-brained, or I’m jolted awake or I don’t have my life pieces inside my life box, I AM SHAMBLEY.
I am quick to frustration.
I am quick to eat like a knucklehead.
And I’m quick to be an asshole to myself.

AND THEN, when your career changes, you move, you suddenly have a toddler, you XYZ (I did all of that in 4 months) your world doesn’t comes shattering down around you because you’ve been there, done that.
Does my life and routine look the same as when I ran a one-man-show meal prep and delivery service? No.
Does is look the same as when I had a newborn? Not even close.
Does it look the same as when I lived in a bubble and had everything I did/wanted/needed in a 5 block radius?
FUCK NO.
And to be honest, that was hard for me to cope with initially because I kept trying to force the puzzle pieces together instead of
ADAPTING.
The magic word.
I adapted. I shifted with my life.
I made a routine that works for us in the here and now.
And we survived.

From the depths of my guts, I believe that this is where is starts.
Anything.
No longer feeling weighed down.
Creating momentum in your day.
Less overwhelm.
Consistency with nutrition.
Finally reading that book you’ve wanted to.
Moving your body.
Not screaming at your kids.
Setting the tone.

Just TRY.
What is the worst that could happen?
You wake up 30 minutes to sit there and stare down at your hands? WHO CARES! Those are YOUR 30 minutes that you spent doing what YOU wanted to do.
Set the tone (a tone you thrive in) for your day and let it be the catalyst.

Dear Can’t Motivate,

Dear Can’t Motivate,

There’s this common misconception that in order to be successful at anything you need to be “that person.”
The person that is hardwired to be motivated every single day.
Motivated to wake up early.
Motivated to have a plan, to move our bodies, to feed ourselves a certain way.
We go through seasons where our motivation comes easy.
We spend our time with intention.
We’re calculated in our decision making, training feels like an escape rather than a chore.
Adherence isn’t even a question because your soul feels so good, why would you want to do anything else?
The first time I lost a significant amount of weight I do so in a way that I would now deem unhealthy. Not necessarily from a physical standpoint either. People admired my commitment, my “healthy eating”, the fact that I trained 6 days a week, sometimes twice in one day.
I made it to my first big goal of hitting 175 and I booked a real vacation.
Because I had solely focused on the physical aspect and hadn’t yet done any heart or brain work, I went N U T S.
I ate with reckless abandon after having restricted so much. I binge drank every day, only to follow it up with excessive amounts of food and then even more booze.
I came home after 12 days and I saw the scale up 11 lbs.
I locked myself in the bathroom that day, abusing myself and telling myself what a failure I was.
Had I known that the majority of it was water weight.
Had I reminded myself that I went from over-exercising to doing half-assed, hungover work a couple times while I was gone.
Had I known what I know today.

I didn’t wake up the next day “motivated” to get back out there and seize the day.
Instead I let my first vacation tell me stories of what a failure I was and I clung to that.
For almost 4 years, actually.
I told myself I wasn’t worth it.
Or capable.
I said I didn’t know how.
“You can’t even go on vacation and keep it together.”
I sat around and waited
And waited
And waited to feel that spark.
That Magical Motivation I once had.
I treated it like it was someone that had abandoned me.
It took me 4 years of starting over countless times and the birth of my daughter to understand that motivation doesn’t happen to me. It’s not a Unicorn Feeling that only happens to some people.
Motivation was deciding that I was done allowing my life happen to me.
The first time I turned the tables and motivated myself Scarlett was 3 months old, the worst sleeper in the free-world, I was running on 4 hours of broken sleep, years of negative self-talk and a broken ego. I did end up gaining all of the 50 lbs and then some and I wasn’t exactly excited to step into a gym that felt like alien territory to me after all this time.
But I motivated myself to put Scarlett to bed, laced up my old Reeboks and I did what I could at the gym that night.
Then I went home and I made a plan for the next day.
I physically wrote down my grocery list, what I was going to do at the gym, and I pre-logged all of my meals into my tracking app.
And I took my ass to bed.
After another sleepless night I headed to a job that no loner served me and wasn’t exactly “motivating” to go to if you know what I mean.
But I took my food for the day.
I went to the gym after I put my baby girl to bed.
And I started to gain MOMENTUM.
See, we aren’t chasing that motivated feeling, we just want to be on our proverbial roll.
Sometimes it requires doing EXACTLY what you don’t necessarily want to do.
Hate going to the gym? Find a new one! Find a workout pal! Go outside! Check out a CrossFit gym and create some community and accountability in your life.
Hate meal prepping? Are you eating the same thing tirelessly? Do you only do it once so that by Friday you’re eating sad-broccoli? Do you think you don’t have time? Change it up! Find a new recipe. Experiment with some new produce. MAKE the time (I’m talking to you, mass majority, scrolling on social media for several hours a day#NotSayingJustSaying).
My point is that it’s not going to find you, that much I know.
I spent too much time filling my head with bullshit instead of honoring the goals I set for myself years ago. I let my life happen to me, I tried various diets, intermittent fasting, gym programs.
When in reality I just needed to pick myself up and motivate myself.
And in doing so I realized it was the momentum I was craving.
The way my body felt and treated me when I am fueling, hydrating and resting well.
The progress I see physically and mentally.
That fuzzy feeling you get when you tackle your days.
And now I know.
That even when I’m in a rut, that I’m over my gym setting, that when I’m tired of tracking, it’s on me.
There may be an intentional amount of time I take to allow myself to recharge but ultimately I know that it’s up to me to lace up my sneaks, commit to myself and create some momentum for myself.

Intention Setter

Intention Setter

What do you dream about?

What is something that you feel so pulled to that you’re not yet doing/having/saying/feeling?

There have been two major things about my life that I have felt this way about.
Living inside a body that didn’t feel like mine.
Raising Scarlett at home with me.

I’ve talked a lot about how so much of my life was spent inside a body that felt alien to me. I desperately wanted to change it, not so I could finally love it but so I could finally feel like “me.”
It wasn’t until January 2017 that it became a non-negotiable for me. It was finally something that I was going to do instead of talking about doing.

Long before Scarlett was here, I knew that I was destined to care for her full time. There is nothing wrong with putting children in daycare or having a nanny etc.

But being with her pulled on my heart so heavily, I knew very quickly that being away from her when I returned back to work was not for me. I tried, and after weeks of crying and a certain sequence of events, I pulled the plug.

For 10 years I was a hairstylist. 7 of those years were spent at a company I had originally imagined I would be with until I retired. I didn’t want a barbershop of my own, I never imagined myself to be an entrepreneur.
But then there was her.
And there was me.
I started saying, “Why the fuck not” instead of “Why would I”?

Everything happened rather quickly once I moved my ass. From the time I decided that I wanted to start a meal prep and delivery service to the first delivery was about 3 weeks.
I went back to work after maternity leave the Monday after Thanksgiving. I produced and delivered my first menu the first week of January, and February 25th was my last day as a manager. For months I worked 7 days a week. I cut hair, I created menus, I cooked, packaged, delivered, cried, exhausted myself, fought with my husband, felt like a shitty mom, doubted myself, went to the gym, cooked for myself, planned, cried some more, cooked some more, felt proud, scared, doubtful, hopeful.
And then I woke up and did it again.
And again.
And I loved it.

To this day, I would not change the decisions I have made. Not for more money, less fear, or more stability. I walked from a rather nice salary to pursue the things that pulled on my heart.
I took a lot of risk once I took action.
I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

When you decide to become an entrepreneur and also transform your body and your mind, a lot of shit happens.
A lot of really amazing shit and also some shitty shit.
In a matter of 5 months, I gave birth, navigated newborn life, decided to start my own business and set out to make my health a priority.
As aforementioned, it was hard.
It still is.
I would do it the exact same way all over again.
There is something rather empowering about doing the scary shit.
It might not always make sense, you might be tired sometimes, but it lights you up.
I loved my job.
I loved it until I no longer loved it, until it didn’t align with my values and then I stepped away.

What do you value?
I intend on touching on values another time but I think it’s really important to sort of sit with that from time to time.

What are the things that you do because you just do them? You don’t necessarily hate doing them but you do them because you always have and it’s part of your routine?
I drank more than I should.
I didn’t plan my meals.
I didn’t take the time to cook nutrient dense foods because “I didn’t have time.”
I didn’t meditate because I didn’t know how.
I didn’t practice gratitude because “I had what I needed and not what I wanted.”
I didn’t go to the gym because “I didn’t have time.”
I didn’t read because “I was too tired.”

All these stories we tell ourselves.
All these things we participate in even though they don’t feel like us.
I KNEW when I felt GOOD.
When I moved my body, when I fed my brain, when my space wasn’t cluttered.
So why didn’t I make those things values, or non-negotiables?

There’s a million reasons I’m sure but they’re not important.
The truth is, last year I just decided I would.
I decided I could and that I was going to.
The rest is history.

Who knew almost 365 days later, I would be coaching alongside my mentor and my personal coach?
I did.
I did because I dreamed about it and put my thoughts into action.
Who knew that I would be almost 100 lbs lighter?
I did because I imagined myself that way.
And so it is.
Who knew that I would be here for all of Scarlett’s firsts? That we would have picnics most days, eat popcorn together in bed after naps and take baths on Friday mornings aka Spa/Pizza Day?
I did.
I knew it because I knew this is right where I’m supposed to be.
Who knew that here I would sit on a Monday afternoon, drinking hot tea, reading, writing, staring out into the cold, feeling all sorts of grateful I didn’t have anywhere to be.
But right here.
I knew it because I felt all of these things inside my bones.

This shit isn’t luck, my friends.
This shit is the product of setting the intentions and then moving my ass.

What do you want so bad you can’t taste it?
You know why you can taste it?
Because it’s already yours.
You’ve just got to set the intention and then you’ve got to move that ass.

Sometimes, I am messy…

Sometimes, I am messy…

Sometimes I am messy.
I love hard.
I cry hard.
I am passionate.
I am impatient.
I am hard on myself.

So much I have learned in the last year.
About love, about business, about friendships, relationships, hardships. I have gained traction in my life. Dug my nails deep into the things I want. l’ve become intentional with my time, my thoughts, my actions and my words.
I have become deliberate.

Make no mistake, I am still fully capable of being a mess.
I am overcome with self doubt, I speak harshly of myself and to myself, I’m impatient with my progress. I get overwhelmed, I question myself, I shut down, I become distracted

 

I’m okay with my mess. Oftentimes it stems from how much I care about what it is that I’m doing. I took all of 2017 to sit inside my mess, splash around in it before carving my way out.
That’s right.
I said it’s okay to be a mess but you’ve got to turn that fucker around at some point.
You’ve got to co-create with God/The Universe/The Moon/Your Mom (not your mom) to live FULL.
Allow yourself to cry, to rage, to FEEL.
Live ALL. UP. IN. YOUR. MESS.
Crawl up in it, make a nest, have your mail delivered there.
Then, when you’re done, get yourself a
cup of cold water
A glass of wine
A shot of whiskey
Put on some lipstick or throw on some sweats and remember why you started in the first place.
Why did you start? If you’re going to question yourself, simply let it be a reminder.

I am not ashamed of my mess and neither should you. I am an emotional woman and I’m proud of that. Maybe you’re not emotional. Maybe you just get hung-up and moments turn into days. Maybe you’re so anti-mess that allowing yourself to feel makes you cringe.
Whatever your story is, be a mess.
Get back up.
Do it over
And over
And over.

Acknowledge your messes and learn from them. Show yourself some grace and then muster up all your lady-magic and clean it up, sister.
Don’t be afraid to make messes. If you’re making a mess chances are you’re creating.
Who the hell knows.
Maybe you just starting menstruating only to find you’re out of peanut butter. You want to shamble over that? Fair.
But then put your boots on and get some more.
At the very least GrubHub that shit like the Queen you are.

It’s going to be okay.
Messes are okay.
You are okay.

The Quest for Self Love

The Quest for Self Love

The Quests.
The quest to lose weight, to gain weight, to “finally get healthy”, the quest to improve performance or the quest for gains. The self-development quest, the career change quest, ALL THE QUESTS.
There’s nothing wrong with them, we’ve all had journeys of our own.

However chances are if you’re unfulfilled, struggling or never satisfied (and not in a “hungry for more” type of way) you’re not approaching your quest with your heart.
Perhaps your heart is broken.
You better get your glue stick out because I promise, until you start doing the heart work, the rest is going to feel like an uphill battle
Against the current
Through mud
With a weighted vest.

My heart has been broken before, I get it.
I’ve been lied to
Cheated on
Abandoned
Stolen from
Raped
Experienced a miscarriage
Wrestled with addiction
I’ve hurt myself, I’ve hurt other people.
The list goes on.
Your list goes on, I get it.

All these experiences and things and people had left an insurmountable amount of pain on my heart. I retreated, deemed myself unworthy of love. I put on a mask of false security and confidence and declared, “This is it. This is just WHO I AM.”

I call bullshit.

The birth of Scarlett was a sort of rebirth of myself. I know, I know…
Not immediately and not like the movies.
I starting picking things apart, really inspecting parts of my life.
What was serving me? What did I love? What did I NOT love? What did I want?Sometimes I thought about being an entrepreneur. I thought about it for years, sort of day dreaming but then decided it was careless so I dismissed it.
I thought about losing weight.
I was physically uncomfortable in my body and I imagined what I might feel like if I wasn’t so overweight.
What would I look like? How would I feel? Truth is, I attempted it several times over the years. Once I was temporarily successful but I gained it all back.
I thought about running a race.
Doing a ropes course.
Riding a bike.
Hiking a 14er.
Was I physically unable to do these things? I don’t necessarily think so. I might not have been the most efficient but I reckon I could’ve done them.
I wasn’t physically unable to do them but I thought I was because I was physically paralyzed by my lack of self love. That mask I hid behind? It was more like a blanket.

If you’re reading this thinking that you have to lose weight or accomplish XYZ before you love yourself, you’re REALLY missing the mark, my friend.
Go back and read from the beginning.

For so long I allowed my past experiences to write my story. Remember my mention of THOSE people? I was THOSE people.
My mother was a drug addict so, me too.
My parents had unhealthy relationships so, me too.
My body was already trashed so why not continue to trash it? For so long I watched women that I admired with their confidence, their experiences and thought, “Man, if I could just lose the weight or (insert here), THEN I could finally love myself.”

You see, it wasn’t the weight-loss that made me fall in love with myself, it’s when I made the CHOICE to.
When I started dissecting my life and declaring, “Why the fuck not”?
When I stopped settling in my career because being an entrepreneur was “too risky.”
When I stopped telling myself that my life script was already determined.
When I took action.

I made the CHOICE to love myself. What was I supposed to tell Scarlett when she was older? That I loved myself when she turned 3 because I finally deserved it?
I don’t think so.
The cool thing about loving yourself is that it’s like a muscle, and the more you work it, the more efficient it becomes.
Hey, I’d be lying if I said that each pound lost wasn’t a victory for me because it absolutely was. But it was more than seeing the scale trend down.
It was a celebration of “Look what I can do. Look what I can accomplish.”
If I could commit to that, what else could I commit to and accomplish?
I could leave a career I no longer loved.
Check.
I could cut ties with people and things that no longer served me.
Check.
I could expand my knowledge, skill-set, job title etc
The bottom line? I could literally do, have and be anything or anybody I want to.
Why? Because I took action.
I insisted upon loving myself. On the good days, the shitty days and all the days in between.
Loving myself became non-negotiable.
I operated different when I made the choice and took action.
It was and still is like a domino effect.
I demand more for myself in all the best ways.

The Bitch is still around, you know the one.
My critic, my negative self-talk, my doubter.
What’s different now is that in those moments, I insist and expect myself to check in with my heart.

I don’t love myself because I lost some weight or because I left my job or because I started a business.
I was able to do all those things when I decided to love myself. The lumps, bumps, grey hairs, freckles, the potty-mouth, the impatient, the anxious ME.
Some days are harder than others. Sometimes I throw my hands in the air and declare tomorrow to be better. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I throw fits.
But I rewrote my fucking story.
I am actively changing my legacy.
The legacy I was so caught up in for so long.
I’m changing my legacy for my family, for my daughter and for every person that needs a daily reminder of “Yes the fuck you can.”
You want to lose weight? Start by loving yourself. Change the way you talk to yourself.
You want to leave your job? Start by loving yourself. Remind yourself all the things you’re capable of.
You want to be in a healthy relationship? Start by loving yourself and don’t let anyone have you unless they love themselves just as much.

(SELF) Love is all you need.

Living in Gratitude

Living in Gratitude

When is the last time you said thank you and really meant it?
Not “thank you” in passing, mumbled under your breath when a door was held for you. Not a sarcastic, “thanks” when you were given a speeding ticket either.

When is the last time you REALLY said Thank You like you and your entire life meant it?
If you can’t remember, we ought to do something about that.
When did you stop being grateful?
Perhaps we never were all that grateful to begin with.

Make no mistake, desiring more for yourself, your life, your bank account, your family etc doesn’t mean that you don’t live in gratitude.
I’m talking about THOSE people.
You know…
THOSE ones.
The ones with the worst luck.
The ones that can’t ever seem to get it together.
The ones that swear that the entire world is genuinely out to get them.
They have the case studies to prove it, just ask them.

I started digging up my own bones sometimes last year. A self-help book here, a podcast there. I figured, “What the hell did I have to lose”? The answer was nothing. Or was it?

I read the woo-woo, the “what the fuck did I just read”, the too cheese-ball and in between, some really solid stuff. What if we started saying Thank You when we got hurt?
What if I said Thank You when I received another bill? Got stuck in traffic? Got sick?
I gave it a go.

Turns out, it’s really hard to feel lack when you sit and say (or write) out-loud, all that you’re thankful for. No matter how small or trivial YOU think they are.
My home.
My fireplace.
Pens to write with.
A shower.
My health.
Sunglasses.
Books.
A bed.
A washing machine.
Soap.
The list goes on…
My point exactly.

You know when you stub your toe and then it just seems like you get kicked in the dick the remainder of the day?
I had one of those days not too long ago.
I smacked my head on the edge of my dresser, I burnt my forearm taking a pan out of the oven, I sliced the corner of my mouth open eating almond butter out of a to-go pouch.
Literally, in the span of 2 hours.
After screaming, “OKAY” loud enough that Scarlett then started yelling “KAY” I stopped what I was doing and I just said Thank You.
I just said it and it shifted my focus inward where I was then met with my really kind and gentle inner voice saying, “What the fuck is your problem”?
Aside from the corner of my mouth bleeding, not a whole lot.
My point exactly.

It’s sort of like when your kid screams as if someone is plucking out her eyelashes, one at a time, when you’re putting her clothes on (just me?)
Your eye starts to twitch, your brow may even get a little sweaty and mid-scream, she suddenly get hiccups.
The hiccups then cause your baby girl to fall into hysteric laughter, almost as if she’s in total disbelief herself.
Naturally, the sheer ridiculousness of the last 3 minutes then causes you to join in on the laughter.
You’ve both forgotten all about how you “Just couldn’t even” a mere 18 seconds ago.

Living in gratitude, which I’ve come to believe is as an art, has become an active practice in my life. Every morning I spend roughly 10 minutes writing down everything I’m grateful for. The big, the small and the not yet here. I say Thank You for my coffee, Thank You for my lungs, Thank You for my life, Thank You for my clients, you get the idea.

If this sounds like a bunch of Burning Man, washed up, hokey bullshit, you might be one of THOSE people. Maybe you’re not but I encourage you to be honest with yourself. Is your world falling to pieces every five seconds? I can ask that question because I was that person at one point. If it is, and you are, start being grateful. If your constantly butting heads with God/The Universe, take the 10 minutes out of your day to learn the lesson and move on already. Rewrite your story by changing it instead of wallowing in it. There’s no coincidence that you’re shambles everyday and saying Thank You just might be your ticket out of Shamblesville.

Nothin’ but (tough) love, baby.
That, and all the gratitude.