For The Love Of Creamer

It’s no secret. I love coffee.

And yet, interestingly enough ~ I’ve only ever been to a coffee shop maybe five times in the last five years, and I only ever buy a basic decaf pour-over when I have been there. I’ve never gone through a drive through coffee window, other than once at a McDonalds while on vacation, after we arrived and I had such a headache I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. (I don’t drink coffee, or anything else, while I travel, you know that annoyingly small bladder thing some of us have, at the great annoyance of the others who don’t.)

Oh I’m sure I would love some of those fancy coffees - lattes, frappes, cappuccino… Do I even admit out loud that I don’t actually know what any of those really are, like if I were to order one I would have no idea what I would be given when my order came up. Are they hot? Cold? Milk? Creamer? Caramel? Cinnamon? Espresso? Oh goodness I get a little overwhelmed just thinking about it all.

So what’s keeping me from trying them… well it’s the fact that I am sure I would in fact love them. And I don’t have the extra money, the extra time, or the extra weight watchers daily points available to allow me to even tiptoe into that kind of splurge. So - I steer clear. Entirely. It’s just better that way. Easier. What I don’t even know I’m missing out on will never hurt me, right?

But, back to my love of coffee, errr basic coffee anyway...  I’m not sure if it’s so much the taste of the coffee I’m in love with, or the simple act of making it, smelling it, holding it, drinking it, sharing it. It’s the act of coffee I’m more in love with I’m fairly certain. But beyond that, I basically will only drink McCafe brand French Roast flavor right now. I enjoy a little taste of a different creamer every now and then, but it’s pretty much McCafe French Roast coffee with French Vanilla creamer, a tad on the heavy side.

And to me, that is heavenly delicious.

And that is also where I have found myself stumbling over myself time and time again throughout the last two years. Coffee. Creamer. Coffee and creamer. Ugh. In fact just this morning, my husband turned to me and asked point blank why in the world there is so much creamer in the fridge. There are currently two large bottles of french vanilla and two smaller bottles of french vanilla. I almost burst into tears. I told him he would never understand. And I told him that right there, that was going to be the death of me one of these days.

I’m going to come back to this plethora of creamers shortly, bear with me, I promise you I’ll bring you back full circle so this makes a tiny bit a sense and gives you a tiny peek into my window of crazy.

Coffee. Creamer. Coffee and creamer. Is it healthy? Well, probably not. Am I currently on a quite serious health journey? Well, probably yes. Have I struggled with what to do about this whole coffee and creamer thing? You bet your bottom dollar I have.

Shortly after I got pregnant with Faith I actually had this odd thing where I began to hate coffee. I kept trying, but I just could not drink it. I had no idea I was pregnant, and no idea why I was suddenly utterly unable to drink coffee, but the taste and smell made me sick, on top of all the other inner unexplainable sickness I was feeling… The bad taste coffee left in my mouth lasted well over a year.

In fact, it took me three and a half years before I was able to drink the brand and flavor of coffee I used to only drink. Duncan Donuts French Vanilla. My husband brought home some from Walmart last week, bless his heart, and I totally went off on him. It was of course a gut emotional reaction to memories of Faith and being pregnant and all that we lost and don’t have. Here he thought he was doing something special and I held that bag in my hands with hot tears in my eyes and bitterness in my heart and angry tart words coming out of my mouth about how much I hated that coffee and that he obviously never listens to me or he would have surly known that. Phew. It took me two days to come to grips with that and muster up enough nerve to apologize to him and attempt to explain my reaction. He had taped the receipt to the bag of coffee and had told me I could return it and left it sitting next to my coffee maker.

And then I ran out of my McCafe French Roast. It was 5:00 am and I stood in the dark in my kitchen with that still unreturned bag of Duncan Donuts French Vanilla in my hands. For five minutes I stood there trying to decide what to do. And then I opened it. And as the smell of the freshly opened bag of coffee slowly filled the air around me, I wept. Deep, heavy, sad tears.

I poured a serving into my little coffee maker and I hit start. I watched it perk. I slowly poured some creamer in. I sat down at the table, only a dim lamp in the corner whispering it’s soft morning glow, and I lifted it to my mouth. I expected it to taste as bad as it had the last time I had tried it about two years ago.

But it didn’t. It actually tasted quite good again, I was actually quite surprised. Perhaps one more step in my healing journey with Faith…

But, as always, I digress. Coffee. Creamer. Coffee and creamer. Back to the initial question - is this something healthy or not? Two years ago I made a conscious decision to take back my health, and have been attempting to still stay on course two years later. There are good days and not as good days. There are good weeks and not as good weeks. For me, eating and exercise and healthy choices are always going to be an all encompassing task at hand, a battle of will vs want. I really wrested initially if I should give up coffee entirely, and decided to cut back to only one cup per day. Then I went through a battle if I should give up coffee creamer entirely… and that has been a battle I have been fighting every day since.

I go back and forth between justifying that it’s ok to drink coffee with creamer in it every day. I tell myself that if that is one of the worst “bad habits” I have with my health journey right now, surely that is acceptable. And creamer… Oh I have tried, honestly I have tried. I have tried sweet and low, and sugar free flavored syrups, and unsweetened almond milk, and fat free, and sugar free, and pb2, and splenda, and then stevia. And that is when I said enough was enough.

If I was going to allow myself the luxury of still drinking coffee, I was going to use the regular french vanilla creamer as well.

So why this battle over creamer? Regular creamer has (weight watchers) “points” in every tablespoon. You are only allowed a certain total number of points per day and I didn’t know if I should justify “wasting” those points every day, because I did count and record them. Fat free had half the points, and sugar free was actually “free” or “zero points” But they just did not taste good.  I threw a lot of coffee away that I just could not finish. The sugar substitutes and sugar free syrups were also “free” or “zero points.” I starting substituting and given up eating and drinking a whole lot of things without batting an eye, but coffee creamer was a whole other beast.

And I think for me honestly, it wasn’t really even about the points (heck I never use all my "weeklies" [extra above and beyond points you are given each week in addition to your "dailies"], I have more than enough room to not even bother counting them if I didn’t want to) I think it was about the justification that it was ok that I was allowing myself to still continue to divulge in this one major daily splurge. 

Like coffee and creamer was suddenly... a sin.

I would listen and read about people who quit drinking pop… their mountain dew, their dr pepper, their diet coke and about how hard it was and how much better they felt and how much weight they lost. It was an unhealthy daily addiction that they had to struggle through, battle beyond, and I would continually argue with myself that by not giving up my cup of coffee and my creamer every day that I lacked that willpower, that I was still strapped by that addiction. And then I would remind myself of all the things I have given up, all the things I’ve stopped eating daily and all the exercise I have been doing.

Coffee. Creamer. Coffee and creamer has been a war of validation and justification within my mind now for two years, dragging along with it a huge emotional suitcase full of bitterness and anger and memories associated with losing Faith and that incredibly painful season of being pregnant at the age of forty after nearly double digits of infertility, knowing she would never get to come home with us. How can one simple “cup o' joe” carry all that weight and all that emotional power day in and day out?!?

About three weeks ago I was at the grocery store, with my points scanner up on my phone. I was scanning different creamer flavors and brands and trying to find something with low points that wasn’t fat free or sugar free. Of course, french vanilla was the winner… so I put one in my cart with a heavy sigh. Was I being weak by allowing myself to continue to drink coffee with regular creamer, or was I being logical and smart and justifying one tiny splurge? Was this really one of my life’s largest strongholds, or was this all just a ridiculous mind game?

And then I looked over at the sugar free bottle next to it and put it in my cart and put the other one back. And then I had a bit of an ahh-haa moment, and ended up bringing them both home. I took one of my nearly empty small bottles and filled it with half regular and half sugar free, so it would actually offset each other and only be one point per tablespoon. And… then I decided to even allow myself just a tiny extra (since it was now technically only half what it was) and it was pretty darn close to perfect.

So cycling back to the beginning - we now have two large bottles of French Vanilla creamer and two smaller bottles of French Vanilla creamer in the fridge. One goes to the camper, one is for home, and there’s a third one in the little fridge at work. The hubs asked me “they aren’t all the same? French Vanilla isn’t French Vanilla??”

Nope. No it is not the same. Some things are just not the same, and some things are just non-negotiable. And for me, this is one of them. After two years, I seem to have come to an amicable agreement with my taste buds and my points calculator… but I still can’t quite let go of the fact that I fight with myself over the issue of if this is really a stronghold over me or not.

Am I addicted to coffee… probably not. Will I have a headache if I don’t have coffee… probably. Is it unhealthy to be running it through my body every day… probably. Am I going to finally win the battle in my mind and attempt to finally give it up entirely… probably not.

I enjoy the taste, I enjoy the experience, I enjoy the quiet time with my devotions or sitting outside in nature with my coffee in hand as I start each day, watching the world awaken around me. I relish the conversations and friendships I share over cups of hot coffee together, whether at work, or at the campground, or in my living room, or in their living room, or in rare occasion even, at the coffee shop together.

So perhaps it is a stronghold, perhaps I do hold it as an excuse to not have to go through the hardship and difficulty of actually trying to give it up, but coffee brings me joy, and my coffee mugs bring me joy, and so many moments and memories over the sharing of coffee, and my personal silence with coffee that brings me joy.

So I think I shall just continue on with my mixie-matchie flavors, continue on counting and using those precious little points daily from my allotment, and continue to just enjoy the warmth in my hands and the warmth within me as I slowly sip and savor as I commune with God, myself, and with others.

Life will always be filled with decisions of good and bad, right and wrong, easy and hard. I think on the grand scheme of all things I’m battling and dealing with on a daily basis, a cup of coffee and two tablespoons of creamer is probably the least of that which I should be concerned about.

And I guess (for today) that's my story and I'm sticking to it. ;-)

{ Previous Blog Post "Taking A Personal Day" HERE }

Taking A Personal Day

You know what, I gave myself a personal day today.  A me day.

I needed just one day to hide out at home, where I don’t have to talk to anyone (except myself), I don’t have to prepare any food for anyone (except myself), I don't have to argue with anyone, I don't have to be yelled at, sassed back at, eyes rolled at, angry words flung at. I don’t have to get anyone up, I don’t have to bring anyone anywhere, wrangle anyone to the shower or put anyone to bed. I don’t have to make breakfast or administer meds and argue with about brushing teeth and making beds and not eating chips for breakfast. I don’t have to people, because frankly sometimes peopling is just plain hard for me.

I need a day to do the things that fill me, that I enjoy, that bring me joy.  I stayed up late (you know 10pm) I slept in (7:30am, say what?!?! Ms 4am seven days a week). I ran during daylight, in the sunshine, on one of my favorite running trails that I never get to run on in the 4am darkness. Things are all just so much more beautiful with the sun shining on them aren't they?!?  I’m going to blog a little, read a little, drink some coffee, pick raspberries (and not share with anyone), perhaps nap a little, maybe take a bath in the jet tub.  I will not turn the tv on and I might turn my phone off entirely.  I will mow the lawn and put some laundry away, and I will clean the bathroom. But just the bathroom ~ one room, not the whole house.  And I probably am not going to give both dogs a bath like they asked me to, sorry, just not.

These hours today are mine and I intend to fully enjoy them and the gift I know that they are. And I already know they will slip by in the blink of an eye, which makes me sad. 

Yup, I cashed in a whole bunch of cards and asked (prayed, begged, pleaded, cried) for a mere twenty four hours at home, by myself, all alone.  My husband and ten year old went to the lake last night, and I stayed home. I stayed home, and honestly could not wait to watch them drive away. This is the first Friday night and Saturday that I have been in town since the end of April.

The lake has always been my happy place, my special place, my place of rest and refill and healing. My sanctuary. But last week I came home from the lake broken and empty, so so empty. When the one place that fills you is suddenly leaving you an emotional wreck, it’s time to stop. It’s time to put on the brakes of life and ask the bigger question as to why.

A year ago I was ten pounds lighter and training to run a full marathon. Twenty six point two freaking miles people, and I did it. I completed it. And this morning, I went out and could barely make it to my three mile mark when I went from running to walking for the last three miles. How in the world does life change so much in such a short amount of time?

This summer has just been different for me. I’m at a new job, different hours, different days, and so much to learn. No more Thursday nights and Fridays at the lake with the ten year old this year. And with the job change comes insurance changes and all the time and headache that goes into dealing with that. Prescription issues and pharmacy changes and prior authorization forms. We’ve got medical bills from MRI’s and X-rays from tendons torn in my husbands knee, and an almost broken foot from earlier this summer. I’m trying to drastically cut back on the time I’m on my phone and on social media this summer. I’m not going all gangbusters and disconnecting entirely (although I have completely logged out of snap chat for a while), as I really enjoy social media, but just working on scaling back, be on it less. So if you’ve messaged me and not heard back, my apologies. I have replied in my mind, I just am a little behind on the actual sending of them via my fingers electronically.  And if I've missed your birthday or big announcements, I'm sorry... but I just can't right now. We’re struggling with the ten year old and how to best fill his summer days while he’s in this awkward and grumpy stage of not being responsible enough to be home alone but also wanting some independence. The dog isn’t well and now has a hole in her iris and is going blind, and needing more meds and more trips to the vet. I’ve gained back ten pounds of the weight I’d worked so hard to loose and maintain during my health and wellness journey over the last (almost) two years. There’s a lot of tension within the walls of our lives this summer, or at least in my life, I probably shouldn’t speak for the others living with me.

Things are different, and some of the things that were working just aren’t anymore. I’m still getting up every morning and getting my exercise in, I’m still trying really hard to eat healthy and track my points, and yet I’m still creeping right back up on the scale. I’ve plateaued and apparently my heart and soul are not quite as in the game as they once were. And the lake, well the lake hasn’t brought me the joy and rest and recharge that it has in the summer’s past. I still enjoy going there, I still love the sunsets and sunrises and laughter with friends, don’t get me wrong… it’s just, well… it’s just different this summer for me.

How often do we find ourselves going through the motions over and over doing things that once worked, once was the answer, once was making a difference, once was exactly what we needed, even though they no longer are working as well as they once did, are as needed, as useful, as helpful as they once were? But we’re comfortable with them, in a routine with them, familiar with them… so we continue on either oblivious to it, or in denial or avoidance in knowing something needs to change.

I am beginning to realize this is a little where I might be right now. I’ve gotten caught up in the chaos of life, busy surviving the day-to-day tasks involved in being the wife, the mom, the employee and allowed myself to slowly slide back to the shadows again. It’s so easy to do, and it’s the socially expected (and accepted) thing to do. I’ve stopped listening to what I need, what my body needs, what my soul needs. I’ve been emptying faster than I’ve been able to refill, and last week I reached a bit of rock bottom (for the nine hundredth and forty-seven millionth time in my life ~insert eye roll).

It’s nothing new in my life, I’ve spent the majority of my life with an empty tank while I tend to all the needs and details of everything and everyone else, all while I fall victim to the unrealistic expectations and perfectionism whispering away in my mind, leaving me always struggling for validation and never feeling enough.

I listened to the garage door close last night and immediately walked over to the thermostat and bumped it up five degrees, and turned off the ceiling fan that is always whirring on high (it seriously sounds like small helicopter is about to take off in our living room). I’m always cold at work, and I’m always cold (really cold) at my house. The temperature is always a little too cold and the noise volume is always a little too loud. When you share your space with others, it’s a game of compromise and just learning to deal with things not exactly how you wish they’d be. The messy level of my house is over the top unacceptable to me. I find inner peace within the walls of a clean and tidy house. I have long given up on that quest, and am just always in a constant state of utter “weary” and “well whatever.”

I cook, I clean, I mow, I wife, I mom, I laundry, I dishes, I groceries, I errands, I work full time. I’m no one special and I’m not worthy of any special rewards or shout outs. There are a ton of us that do all of these things, and I’m convinced there are a ton of us all feeling lost in this same boat of being overworked and under appreciated. Tiz but a season, yes I know world, yes I know. But I still can’t help but feel a little lost, a lot overwhelmed, and extremely empty at times. Just being honest with you, and with myself.

We wished for this, we chose this, we got swept up and along with this. And by “this” I mean life, all of it. We all started out with a grand hope and dream for our little lives, and on our quest to find and achieve those dreams we put one foot in front of the other, one choice after another and got swept up in the ebb and flow of the good and bad, the happy and sad, the beautiful and the ugly of all the moments and details of the life we are living. We stand today living a life entirely different than that what we once envisioned and hoped for. Life dealt us so many unexpected turns and whammies along the way, and yet we all know it’s still just a beautiful part of God’s journey for all of our lives. We smile and endure to the best of our abilities.

I picked up a new book last night and started it. Grace Not Perfection by Emily Ley. I was met with these words on page 1… “Somewhere along the way, someone told us we weren’t good enough. We weren’t pretty enough, creative enough, crafty enough, or dedicated enough. Social media feeds, blogs, magazines, and other people began to set the standard for us. And they set it high - unreachably high. We mashed together other people’s highlights and best moments and created this standard of perfection we’re all after. Once I reach it, we tell ourselves, I’ll be good enough. I’ll be a good mom, a good friend, a good spouse, a good professional…” She goes on to say “Somewhere between three and twenty-, thirty-, forty something, we lost that joy. And now we’re all trying to find it again. Our grown up circumstances, mortgages, taxes, jobs and social media comparison have sucked the wind right out of our sails and made us all a little bit unhappy inside. And here we are, convinced that getting down to our college weight and maintaining a spotless home sounds like a pretty good way to be unabashedly happy again. The truth is, if we take care of ourselves the same way we’re nurturing everyone else, we’ll find all sorts of joy and be better for everyone we love. I realized I needed to take care of myself or I’d have nothing left to give my little ones. It wasn’t an indulgence or a pat on the back. It was do or die. If my heart was going to keep on going, it was going to need attention. It was time to give myself permission to be a priority again - starting now.”

Bamb. And the Lord spoke. Queue the thunder and lightening please. Wowsa.

Crazy that I would pick up a book that had written in it exactly the words to which I was needing to hear, what I was feeling, struggling with, and needing confirmation on. This was the very reason I was home alone right now, in dire need of a personal day to myself, by myself, for myself. Actually it's not crazy, that's exactly how God works in my life.

On Monday I am also going to be starting something completely new and different for me on the a health and fitness side of things. I’m signed up to run another half marathon in October, but between now and then I am actually going to attempt to embark on something I’ve never done before. I know I need to change it up and juggle it up a little with my diet and exercise. I have no idea how this affect my running, but there is a distinct possibility that I will be taking a season off from running, and who knows, I may never enter this season again.  I have mixed feeling about this. Running is hard for me - mentally and physically. Although, I’m fairly certain what’s next is going to be even worse. Maybe not worse, just different. And change is good sometimes, so we shall see. I’m just ready to dive back into myself, dive back into something new and a little different, even through that is also scary and hard. I guess I’m ready to head back to the start line and pick myself back up and start again. 

It’s not starting over, it’s simply starting again. 

And today I will take the gift of these precious selfish hours of silence and alone time, and I will fill them with things I enjoy doing in hopes of filing my tank again, just a tiny bit. And as I promised, I will pack myself up and head to the lake after twenty four hours at home and re-enter the world of reality and responsibility… but hopefully I'll arrive filled with a little more grace, a little more peace, a little more happiness, and a lot more hope in my tomorrow.

{ Previous blog "First Day of the 2nd Half of the Year" HERE }

First Day of the 2nd Half of the Year

It’s July 1st. It's the first day of the second half of the year.

I look back at the goals, hopes, dreams, and expectations I entered the year with six months ago. Somehow I’ve kind of kept holding on, and at the same time I know I’ve also started to allow myself to start to slip backward.  And not just in my health and weight, but in several areas across the board.  Not a complete fall off the bandwagon, but a slow but steady veering off to the left.

I’ve allowed myself to coast just a little, cheat just a little, listen to the whispers of unworthiness just a little more, while requiring myself to care and count and track just a little less. I’ve allowed my drive and my passion to start to wain and let myself slide ever so slightly in the wake of unexpected change and prescheduled chaos.

I'm still allowing myself to buy in to the unrealistic reality of unattainable perfection, while also navigating the lapping waters of unexpected change.  Perfectionism and change - two things that can single handedly bring us to our knees, bring us right back to square one time and time again.

It is exhausting trying to be perfect all the time isn't it?  None of us are "required" to be perfect, none of us ever can or will be perfect.  And yet, here it is, this illusion of "perfection" left lying in our outstretched hand, this standard we hold out and dangle in front of us every single day, every single hour of our lives.  Always in sight and always just outside of our reach.

Why is it we place perfection on such a high pedestal?  Why is it so hard to accept that we are perfectly imperfect and that is exactly how we were made, how we were intended?  It is in our trials and imperfections that we are challenged, that we grow, that we find that fight and strength needed from deep within us.

And then there's change.  Funny how we rarely actually schedule and plan for changes in our lives, and yet they are always arriving, always popping up unexpectedly.  Doors opening, door closing, unexpected plans and realities, diagnosis and emergencies.

Life. What a tricky thing to navigate. What a roller coaster ride to endure day in and day out. The delicate balance living all in, all out, while juggling expectations, reality, and meet-in-the-middle compromises on the fly.  Every day is new, every day is different, every day is unknown and try as we might to control, every day is filled with things we didn't have penciled, typed, or sharpied into our day planners.

We flip the calendar today. July. Whether you look at the year as half done, half lost, half gone, or as having another six months yet to conquer, to achieve, to accomplish - the truth of the matter is that 163 days are behind us and 162 days are still before us. This is a black and white fact. The black and white truth of the matter.  Time is marching away from us to the beat of it's own drum at a rate no one can keep up with any longer.

Today is a day to take the time to slow, to stop, and to take stock in our days and moments thus far this year. Today we need to allow ourselves the time to re-evaluate, to re-align, to re-establish. Today is the day to turn around if we must, get ourselves set back straight on our course and figure out how to just keep going. Keep going forward, keep looking towards tomorrow, continue on with determination and intentionality... even when we think we just don't have the stamina, the wherewithal, the ability to fit one more thing in, or take one more step forward.

Oh such wise words and principles these are that I type, words and actions I need to do in my very own life. It’s time to wipe the dust off, clear the webs out, suck it up buttercup, shove out the bits of negatively that have crept back in, confront again all that’s holding us back, tripping us up, guiding us off course.

Today I look at what I’ve tackled and what I’ve yet to take on. Today it’s time to pick ourselves back up and give ourselves the pep talk we need to re-tweak those goals and ambitions and get back at it with all we have in us.

And I'm not talking about just fitness and health goals here.  Not just the number on the scale, the number inside your jeans, the number of miles on your running app, the number of pounds on your weights, or the number of minutes on your exercise video.  I'm also talking about the goals and ambitions we have set for ourselves in the areas of our families and friends, in our spiritual growth and development, in our ability to grant ourselves rest and healing and soulcare, in not allowing ourselves to numb and continue on skirting through life on autopilot.  Health and fitness, yes absolutely weave magically throughout all of those areas, but I've learned that it does in fact need to be woven into, incorporated throughout, bringing in and binding together separates into a strong and beautiful wholeness.  Life is a joint venture of needs, wants, dreams, goals, wishes, and expectations that all need to be delicately braided together.

Let's breathe deep and take stock in the accomplishments, the good, the whoop-whoop's of the first six months of this year.  Let's evaluate, but not dwell too long on the areas fallen short. Let's be real with ourselves, be honest, and then we need to somehow pick ourselves up and continue on. Move forward.  Don't just jump ship and throw it all away if you aren't quite where you thought, hoped, expected to be today.  Look at all that you have done, hang on desperately to that, and look ahead and let's march ourselves boldly into the next six months remaining of this fantastic year.

The year is half over.  But that leaves another half a year still for the taking and making, for the holding and folding, for the dream setting and the goal smashing.  Are you a glass half empty or glass half full type person?  Cuz today my friends, is merely a day of glass half empty, there's still a whole lot of days, weeks, months left to continue to find and polish our greatness and our strengths.  Let's flip those calendars and keep on a going.

{ Previous Blog Post "Touch of Heaviness" HERE }

{ Next Blog Post "Taking a Personal Day" HERE }