Every moment is an opportunity for inquiry…not just the “exciting” ones.
I don’t judge books by their covers.
I don’t judge people by their clothes.
And I don’t judge moments by their drama.
In fact, I don’t judge – when I can help it.
When I can help it, I choose to value.
I value books by their content, value people by their substance, and value moments by their wholeness. Like right now:
I’m sitting at CC’s Coffee Shop, surrounded by people I don’t know.
Or do I?
Our souls must be connected on some level, or we would not be here together in this moment. If we weren’t connected before, we are connected now, simply by sharing space.
I am in a silver metal chair. It’s no antique chair.
Or is it?
I don’t know the story behind this chair.
All I know is that it currently supports my gluteus maximus, and that it has supported countless glutei maximi before mine.
In fact, I wonder just how many glutei maximi it has supported. Has it held the glutei maximi of people that I know?
Oh, Dear Chair, what moments have you witnessed? What reconciliation, what heartache, what sparring between foes?
This chair has a story. And now my butt is part of it.
Oh, my butt. How I love my butt. How I used to not love my butt. What a miracle, to love my butt.
I tell you, Folks, the mundane matters.
Every moment warrants inquiry.
Every moment is a miracle.
Every moment is a gift.
At the very least, every moment can let you appreciate your butt!
Every moment presents two options: self-abandon, or self-care. Brushing my teeth can be a victory in a moment of exhaustion. The more I care for myself in the “mundane” moments, the less likely I am to relapse.
Small victories build on each other to create a solid foundation. Eating breakfast on a boring day prepares me to eat breakfast on a busy day.
My nutritionist once told me that I need to take restriction out of my vocabulary. Entirely. I can’t discriminate moment to moment. I can’t take care of myself on some days.
That recovery is conditional.
That recovery is half-baked.
I’m not looking for this.
I’m not looking for this.
I’m looking for THIS: moist – succulent – JUICY.
W H O L E – B A K E D!
That’s right, Friends, I have a whole-baked recovery – and YOU can, TOO!
Here’s one example of my whole-baked recovery…
…and now I will show you two more.
On July 16th, 2019, I did something absurd.
I didn’t something new.
I meal prepped!
Just before midnight, after detox-ing from my day with some yogi tea and meditation, I made a Nutzo-and-banana sandwich on Ezekiel bread, boiled an egg, and placed both items in the fridge, along with a Kind bar.
Why, you ask? Because I had plans: plans to get up early in the morning, drive 20 minutes to PJ’s Coffee on Maple, and resume the writing project I’d begun earlier that evening.
My “flow” had kicked in. I could have lasted all night, riding that adrenaline rush. But my healthy voice also kicked in and said, “Bella. Stop. You need rest. Resume tomorrow.” So, I dropped the pen, made breakfast, and set an early alarm.
Why the early alarm? I had back-to-back appointments, a phone call at 10:30 and therapy at noon on Maple Street (hence my choice in coffee shops). I needed to economize my time.
Enter, my meal prep – my glorious meal prep – which birthed a recovery triumph.
First, I obsessed over nut butters: Nutzo or Cashew? Nutzo or cashew? Which will be the healthiest? Will this one make me lose weight? Will this one make me gain? Will one of them better meet my needs?
If I recall, I mixed the two.
Then came the egg question. Too much protein? Not enough protein? Should I nix it? Is that restrictive?
“Bella,” I decided, “Keep the egg. It’s just extra fuel for your writing.”
Then came the bread. Ezekiel, of course! But which loaf will I pull two slices from? Sesame Seed or Flax? Sesame Seed or Flax?!
The Flax Seed loaf had 2 pieces left. 2 measly ends. Certainly too small to meet my needs, and I knew that. So, I opened the brand new sesame loaf and pulled two hearty slices from the middle.
Then, to be sustainable, I consolidated the two loaves, tossing the flax slices in with the sesame. The bag had some loose flax seeds floating around in it, and I poured those into my Mixed-Nut bin. Who knows? They might come in handy for my next yogurt parfait. Why waste?
THEN, there was the banana – the real reason I’m writing.
The fruit bowl held 2 bunches: a pale green bunch with several nanners, and an overripe bunch that held just one. Of course, I should have opted for the remaining overripe one, lest it go to waste – and at first I did – but THEN I remembered 2 different friends telling me bananas are most sugary at their ripest.
are most sugary
Immediately, I reconsidered and reached for the barely-ripe green thing before me. However, the almost-ripe bananas, though less sugary, were bigger – and in addition to the hassle of cutting them in half – lest I overeat – I wanted to honor the life of the overripe banana that had waited its turn so patiently.
Imagine, after all that time, simply going to waste! I could not – in healthy, recovered, loving conscience – choose the younger, barely-ripe banana.
What should have been a simple choice was over-complicated by the obsessive-compulsive, eating-disordered brain. You cannot tell me anything about food, especially health benefits, or I will take that information and run. The “high” kicks in almost instantly.
Annyway. I made my breakfast, took a sea-salt shower (click here for more info about this energy-healing technique), and fell asleep to a Yoga Nidra.
I was present for most of my dreams.
And I woke at 7, naturally.
I’d planned to hop in the car and take my breakfast to PJ’s, but I was ravenous – I believe my period is coming! – so I ate in my kitchen whilst listening to Louise Hay’s morning meditation.
I finished breakfast, thanking myself for making it the night before. In addition to saving time, it was fun to find it waiting. I hopped in the car celebrating this fact and turned on the radio. First song I heard? “Joy to the World” by Three Dog Night. It accompanied my Joy to Bananas.
Joy to the World for the little victories – the tiny moments where you say, ‘Shut up, ED.’ Moment by moment I can rewire my brain, if I pay attention to my choices.
In closing, I’d like to remind you that these thoughts and opinions are my own, and not meant to be forced upon anyone. They’ve been filtered through my own experience.
Keep tuning in, keep sharing, keep coming back – but most importantly, keep being you. That’s all that truly matters.