Blogging by Beth

On Aging

Well, it happened. My first “I can’t believe you’re still doing that at your age,” comment. I’m only 35, but when someone pointed out that it is impressive that I currently play in three kickball leagues “at my age,” it made me feel 70.

After taking a step back from the conversation (and dyeing my hair again to cover up the few extra grays that popped up), I tried to let the interaction roll off my shoulders. Since I am now writing a blog about the situation, I bet you can guess that it was much easier said than done.

In my daily life, I do not feel old. I am very physically active, I have a big social circle, and I have plans on most nights of the week. But then I step into a loud, crowded bar and start complaining about the noise, and instantly feel like I’ve turned into a grandmother. Or I’ll be engaged in a conversation with someone who I think is a peer until they let it drop that they were born the same year my first car was made, and I swear I can feel the calcium draining out of my bones.

I’m starting to feel dirty when I find uber-young celebrities attractive (here’s look at you, Shawn Mendes). A few weeks ago, a friend said he thinks it’s okay to date a much younger person as long as you couldn’t biologically be their parent, but I’m not sure I’m on board with that logic. I don’t want to be walking with a cane next to an Adonis with whispers of “cougar,” following in our path.

I say most of this in jest, but mid-thirties is a weird time. You’re in this in-between where you aren’t really young anymore, but you aren’t old either. And when do you officially cross that threshold into “old?” Is there a big neon sign you see as you move into that next phase of life? Or do you just wake up one day with another pain in some new part of your body and realize your youth is as far away as your ability to stay up all night and still function the next day?

I’m sure these answers are pretty subjective, but all I can say is I’m glad that I still look young enough for people to (sometimes) guess I’m in my twenties.

Little Things

Yesterday my dog and I went for a walk along the river. I was enjoying myself, but my thoughts were wandering, and I wasn’t completely focused on my surroundings. The leash dragged a bit behind me so I stopped and looked back at Madigan to see what caught her attention.

She had her sweet white face pressed into a plant right at the edge of a bridge and she voraciously inhaled. I gave her a few moments to enjoy it, and as we stepped away, she smiled so completely that I instantly felt my mood elevate.

The look of pure, unadulterated joy on her face from the scent lit me up from the inside. The simple act of smelling a plant, one that she has probably sniffed many times before, made her happier than some of my favorite life moments have made me.

As we continued walking, I paid more attention to the blissful day around me. The fact that at the end of May, the temperature is still flirting around 85 instead of the normal 100 degrees we have at this time of year. The light breeze ruffling through my shirt and hair. The sight of Madigan’s little tail waddling in front of me.

It was a pretty perfect moment.

When I first started to write this post, I was post walk and feeling good and positive. I woke up today, however, feeling grumpy. I tried to shake it off at the gym to no avail. Cleaning my house did not give me the instant gratification I thought it would. Even chatting with friends hasn’t improved my mood as quickly as it normally does.

But reading back through this post and thinking about that look on Maddie’s face is doing the trick. It’s inspiring me to take more time to notice and appreciate the little things. So even though I sat down at this table with a coffee, a to-do list, and a small scowl on my face, now I’m taking the time to enjoy the amazing view of the mountains to my right and the palm trees blowing in the wind in front of me. I’m appreciative of the fact that I’m having a good hair day, and I’m ready to finish the rest of my day more like Madigan.

I’ll even try to smile!

Setbacks

One Step Forward

I’ve been thinking a lot about setbacks. We all experience them, obviously, but I’m beginning to realize that they can be monumental for some and mere blips on the course for others.

When I really sit and reflect on myself, I think I’m a little bit of both of those people. I can stumble briefly over a setback and keep going on my path with a laugh. Sometimes, though, setbacks paralyze me from moving forward. It feels like there’s a concrete wall in front of me and the only way to move is to retreat backwards.

I saw a meme one time that said something to the effect of “you wouldn’t slash your other three tires just because one was flat, would you?” In terms like that, it seems silly to let a little bump derail you. It’s not always that easy to have that much self-awareness in the moment, however.

Railroad tracks leading into a giant storm cloud

And All the King’s Horses

After years and years of paying really careful attention to my PCOS and making some important strides, I recently suffered a major hormonal setback. I left the comfort of a remote job and took a different position that requires me to go to the office every day. I know this is reality for most people, but it was a big change for me, and it was very jarring to my body.

Because I have a lot less control over my time, I have not been able to make myself work out consistently since I started the job in November. I started drinking coffee every morning as a little ritual to ease the new feeling of being around people at 8AM. I also used my larger paycheck to get gel manicures for three months.

None of these things might seem like big deals to other people, but for someone who is already hormonally compromised, these seemingly insignificant details created some large cracks in the progress I made. Since November, I’ve basically had the shortest cycle imaginable. As in its so short, there’s basically no end to it.

I know what I need to do to steady myself and return to the hormonal homeostasis I had before, but this setback has affected me more than most. I already watch every drop of food that goes into my body. I actively avoid wheat, dairy, and sugar, which, in case you didn’t know, are ingredients that are in practically everything. I don’t drink very much. I don’t smoke. I try to minimize stress and get enough rest. I take a bajillion supplements.

And yet, a few small things like going into an office every day, drinking coffee in the morning, and treating myself to biweekly manicures resulted in me getting my period for over a month. It does not give me a lot of inspiration to keep working so hard.

There have been moments where I’ve honestly considered slashing the other three tires and just eating whatever I want each day.

A flower grows from cracks in the ground

What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger

As tempting as it is, I’m not actually going to drown myself in a sea of bread and cheese. I’ve done a loooooooot of research, and I’m making some strides back toward balancing my hormones. And this time I want to do it in a way that they’re strong enough to resist a few attacks from the stressors of daily life.

My friend is really good at reminding me about how far I’ve come. She suffers from food allergies, too, and we’ve helped each other make a lot of progress when it comes to avoiding foods that disagree with our bodies. She pointed out the other day that it’s easy for her to be forgiving of me when I have setbacks, but that she realizes that she’s just as hard on herself about hers.

So here’s my attempt at turning setbacks into insignificant moments to which I hardly give a second thought: I’m going to try to talk to myself like I would talk to one of my friends. As I sit here and type this blog, I’m at Starbucks drinking a cup of coffee. And I had another coffee in the middle of the week. But I also took the time to make a liver detoxing smoothie every morning before work (to help my body get rid of some of its excess estrogen), and I ate a crap ton of leafy greens and sunflower seeds to actually help my hormones do what they want to do.

So I’m not going to be mad at myself about the coffee. I’m just going to try to keep moving forward and making the best choices I can make in the moment.

I also plan to keep a metaphorical spare tire on hand that I can use the next time I have a flat.

The sun rises over the water and shines through the clouds

Change

Have you ever woken up one day and realized you’ve changed? That all of a sudden you no longer appreciate things that once made you whole?

That happened to me over the past few weeks, and now I’m not sure I recognize myself.

I just took an epic trip to the East Coast full of amazing friends and experiences. In just a little over a week, I officiated a wedding, met a host of lovely new people, and saw a Broadway play. I walked along the beach, had deep, important conversations, and actually started to like Connecticut (which is a really big deal because it was one of my least favorite states before this trip).

Most importantly, though, I realized some very important things about myself. Firstly, I have incredible people in my life. No, seriously. They are truly marvelous.

Friends I hadn’t seen in years asked me to perform their wedding ceremony. And instead of allowing me to be endlessly appreciative of extending me this vast honor, they kept thanking me for doing it! One of my closest friends and I finally got to travel together after twelve years of friendship. Another friend flew all the way across the country just because I was going to be out there so we could spend the week together.

Friends at home kept texting me because they missed me and wanted me to come back. The entire week made me feel loved, valued, and appreciated in a way that I would feel every day if I spent more time being grateful and less time worrying about silly things.

The second thing I learned on this trip is that I do not want the same things I used to want. Since I was 19, traveling was a huge part of me. In fact, “traveler” was a term I used to describe myself on many occasions. Even though this recent trip was amazing, I didn’t love the act of traveling as much as I once did.

Every flight I took landed early. There were no particularly annoying passengers on any of the planes. I watched movies or television shows to make the time go by faster. All in all, these were some of the best flights I’d ever had, but I still wished I was doing anything else.

I stayed in some crappy hotels and some really nice places, and I just wanted to be sleeping in my own bed. I had a continental breakfast that someone else prepared, but I just wanted to be in my own kitchen whipping up some eggs and fruit.

I took a commuter train and the subway. I used to love sitting on trains and listen to music while watching the scenery and other passengers. It never bothered me to have to take the subway and walk a bit instead of getting in my car and driving to my destination. Maybe it was the fact that I had a cold for a large part of the trip, but I found myself missing my vehicle any time I rode a train.

I’ve always considered myself very adaptable and could picture myself living in most places I visited, but this time I realized that I don’t want city life to be my daily experience. I’m much more interested in a simpler existence.

And lastly, I realized that I have built a life I love. All the pieces might not be exactly in place yet, but it was a life to which I was very eager to return. Maybe that’s why traveling wasn’t as invigorating as it once was; before traveling was a break from the humdrum of my lackluster daily experiences. They gave me a chance to do something exciting and be around people instead of spending too much time alone.

This time, though, traveling just made me even more grateful for what I have and excited to get back to start my next chapter of it. And that’s something very special and important will live in my mind next to all of the other amazing experiences from this trip.

How Sweet It Isn’t

A few weeks ago I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and took a scissor to some annoying hairs at the nape of the neck. Just to be safe, I clipped another small section of hair. I gathered the locks into an envelope, sealed it, and drove it right over to a mailbox to ensure it sent that day.

You might think it’s weird that I was excited to mail off pieces of my hair, but I promise there was an important reason why I did it. The hair was on its way to a lab in New York where some very smart scientists would test it to find out exactly what I’m allergic to.

Even as I write that, I realize that most people *still* wouldn’t be excited about it, but for me, it was huge. So huge, in fact, that in the moment I mailed the envelope was on par with massive life events like moving to a different country and getting my first real job.

Before you think I’m crazy and have too little excitement in my life, I started to get hives right after I turned 30. They weren’t just the occasional itchy spot, either. I’m talking full-body hives, uncomfortable swelling of hands and lips, and the constant need to take Benadryl to try to keep myself from scratching my skin off. I soon realized that dairy seemed to make the hives worse. I got hives almost every single day for five months straight.

Now do you see why I was so excited for this allergy test?

Anyway, after I gave up dairy, I noticed my sinuses were more congested than they should have been. Some quick research showed that an allergy to wheat could cause this issue.

Sigh, really? I had already sacrificed dairy and now I had to give up wheat, too? I begrudgingly eliminated wheat from my diet and my sinuses cleared up almost instantly. For the past three years or so, I lived a mostly dairy and wheat-free life. I noticed that I felt a lot better without those foods, but I was still having skin issues. And my body was not cooperating even after vigorous workouts.

Because I never had these “allergies” medically confirmed, though, I almost felt like a fraud claiming them. I tried to make simple substitutions in restaurants without being too annoying. But I never went as far as to ask whether or not something was cooked in butter or if it had any gluten in the sauce.

So back to this allergy test. I was really afraid to get it. Part of me was afraid the results would come back that I was allergic to literally everything. The other part of me was (maybe more) afraid that it would come back and say I was allergic to nothing.

About a week and a half after I sent off the envelope, the results showed up in my inbox. My hands shook as I downloaded the PDF. I scanned through the introductory section until I finally got the food intolerances page: anise bay leaf, castor bean, cow’s milk, red currant, sheep’s whey milk, veal, and wheat.

I took a few deep breaths and read the list over again. Okay, that didn’t seem too bad. There wasn’t anything on that list that I was eating in excess and I had already somewhat figured out wheat and dairy. I read through the non-food intolerances and one in particular caught my eye: sugar beet seed.

After a quick Google search, I realized that sugar beet seed is used to make most table sugar.

Wait, what? I’m allergic to sugar?

In case you didn’t know, wheat and dairy are in basically everything. And sugar is in most of the things that don’t have the other two ingredients.

I think a lot of people would have read these results and been very upset, but I almost felt relieved. It felt good to know I figured out my wheat and dairy sensitivities on my own. And since I’d already been living mostly without them, it didn’t seem overwhelming to remove them totally from my diet. The sugar thing seemed somewhat difficult, but it almost made me excited.

Is that weird?

For years I wondered if there were certain kinds of food I should or shouldn’t be eating. Could I decrease my PCOS symptoms by just avoiding certain foods? Now I have a real, tangible answer. Yes, it’ll be hard, but at least I know what I need to do now.

In just the two weeks since I got my allergy results and cut these things from my diet, I have not gotten any headaches, my sinuses are totally clear, and some scars I’ve had for years are getting so light that you can hardly even see them.

It might not be convenient avoiding wheat, dairy, and sugar, but it makes me feel so much better. And I’m excited to see what else changes with my body when they fully leave my system.

And, at least I can still have pho.

Standing Out

When I was in sixth grade, I got a perm.

I have curly hair.

I also very distinctly remember the moment I realized I have green eyes. I was sitting in the passenger seat of my mom’s 1999 Toyota Camry (which means this was either in 1999 or later) and I opened the visor mirror. For the first time in my life, I looked past my glasses and realized I really liked my eye color.

I was at least 15 at the time.

Why is any of this relevant? Because I spent much of my life not really *seeing* myself. It took me a long time to even look close enough at my own reflection to realize basic physical traits

I suspect it might be different for younger generations who have grown up with cell phones that make it easy to take 80 pouting pictures of yourself a day, but this was my reality. Although I am very aware of how I look now, I think there are still other ways that I don’t see myself.

For example, it surprised me to find out that not one, but two of my friends dreamt of me in the same night this week. In one dream, my friend and I got pedicures in Connecticut and called them “Connectitures.” In the other, that friend and I worked at a grocery store for a man we know and dislike in real life. Both dreams are hilarious for different reasons.

Another friend told me last week that regardless of how much time passes between our conversations, I’ll always be her “soulmate” friend.

No matter how isolated we make ourselves feel or how little we think we pop up in other people’s thoughts, our connections are stronger than we think. Any time you meet someone, you make a ripple in the timeline of their life. I don’t think any of us give ourselves enough credit for being memorable beings who can actually change the course of someone else’s life.

Seemingly simple conversations, suggestions about new restaurants, and even inside jokes weave together to form a piece of who we each are as individuals. These pieces creative connective threads between us and the people who have touched our lives. They might not realize we hold a piece of them inside just as we do not realize they do as well.

Basically, the point I am trying to get at is try not to be afraid of being yourself. Because who you are matters more than you know to the people around you.

Why Didn’t We Start the Fire?

Fire is powerful—it is strong and energetic and ever changing. It is also completely terrifying and unpredictable. Basically, it is the perfect metaphor for life.

I spent yesterday afternoon and evening with a small group of friends enjoying life and each other’s company. We ate, we sat in an inflatable pool in the front yard, and we talked around a fire after the sun went down. Our conversation ranged from becoming ex-pats on an olive farm in Spain to giving up toxic friendships that held us back in the past. It wasn’t a huge, crazy party, but it was the perfect way to spend a Sunday.

And it set my soul on fire.

As I sat watching the flames crackle across the broken pieces of wood and old mail used to create the fire, I though about how much I want to do that in my daily life. Too often we are taught to put out our own fires. We aren’t supposed to want certain things or be unhappy when life is going at least moderately well.

When you have an experience that ignites you, though, it fills your veins with passion. It makes you feel like that’s exactly how life should be.

And why can’t it be that way? Why do we have to be so scared to try the things we really want to do? Why do people stay at jobs they hate and dread waking up each day of the week? Why do we hide our talents and dreams from others?

A lot of the conversation yesterday afternoon centered around a wedding. Two of my closest friends recently got engaged and their excitement quickly overtook the rest of us. For an entire week, the betrothed couple had no idea what they wanted for their wedding. Then within a day, we were able to plan a good portion of it. I think once they finally let themselves admit that they wanted nothing to do with a “traditional” wedding, they had the freedom to express their deepest desires.

Fire cannot be caged. It does not bow and bend to meet the wishes of others. It lives and breathes exactly as it wants to. It swallows up anything in its path and even when it’s put out, it simply changes form and evaporates into the atmosphere.

Fire is beauty. It is raw and dangerous and an absolute life force. It is also a role model for those who want to escape the confines of an average life.

Taking the Self Out of Sabotage

I actually got my butt out of bed at 5:30 this morning and took my dog to the river for a walk/run. We traveled four miles total, but most of it was walking. The few bouts of jogging (definitely not running) had me coughing and trying to catch my breath.

Just a few days ago, we went along the same pathway and jogged most of a 5K. Why was it almost impossible for me to repeat that performance today? Well, much like Oprah, I love bread. But bread does not love me.

I discovered recently that wheat goes straight to my sinuses and causes unnecessary congestion. If I don’t eat it, I hardly ever even have a runny nose. If I eat it a few times in a week, I get a few sniffles, but I can usually bounce back just fine. If I pass the point of no return, however, I get headaches, major post-nasal drip, and lots of phlegm.

Long story long, I ate too much bread this week and basically couldn’t breathe when I tried to run today.

I’ve been thinking a lot about self-sabotaging lately and the reason behind it. I’m aware I’m not alone in doing things I know aren’t good for me. Sure, sometimes the motivation is simply that it is much easier to eat a piece of bread than to try to find some gluten-free alternative. But sometimes I think I practice destructive behavior because I feel like that’s what I deserve.

If I’m having a day where I feel sorry for myself, I crave unhealthy food. Since my self-esteem is already on the low side, it’s almost like I’m proving myself right by eating things I shouldn’t.

Eating something filled with delicious wheat or dairy (which I can’t really have either) is not the only way I self-sabotage. Sometimes I won’t work out even though I have time to or I decide to watch three more episodes of a show instead of take my dog for a walk.

The thing is, when I actually do these things, I feel so amazing. And I’m way less likely to have those feel-sorry-for-myself thoughts. I don’t even really know where the self-sabotage cycle starts, I just know that it is vicious when it does.

I don’t think simple awareness is enough to stop the sabotage steam engine, but I do think it’s a start.

It is probably a good idea to avoid beating myself up any time I eat wheat, or skip a workout, or watch more Netflix, though, or I might jump into a sabotaging cycle that is even harder to escape.

The PCOS Chronicles

Last night I learned of another girl who has PCOS. She just found out she has it and, without knowing much about the disease, she could only ask her doctor questions based on the small tidbits she’s heard.

One of her first questions was, “will this make me gain weight?” This girl is very skinny, but she has a lot of problem with inflammation after she eats—so much so, in fact, that people have asked her if she’s pregnant.

“No. PCOS doesn’t make you gain weight. That’s just an excuse that fat girls use,” her doctor told her. Yes, her doctor. A medical professional. Then the doctor wrote a prescription for birth control so the girl would start getting her period again (which she hadn’t seen in about a year).

There are so many things that infuriate me about this interaction. First of all, the fact that doctors know SO little about PCOS. Second of all, how dare someone who is supposed to help people cure their health issues tell a patient that people use this disorder as an excuse to be fat?

I am also upset that the doctor merely prescribed birth control and expects that to solve all hormonal problems. Sure, birth control will make this girl get her period, but it’s not a solution. It will actually just cover up her issues without treating them.

I’m definitely more frustrated about this interaction than this girl was because she doesn’t know that she should be. Why shouldn’t she listen to her doctor? Why shouldn’t she do some research on the effects of birth control on her hormones and on her PCOS? As of right now, she has no reason not to believe the doctor.

I spent so. Many. Years. blindly listening to doctors and trusting their diagnoses and treatments. When none of these methods worked for my issues, it made me feel like I was the problem.

They made me feel like I was the problem.

I went to a gynecologist one time, a female, by the way, and she gave me suggestions on losing weight based on what her FIFTY-YEAR-OLD HUSBAND was doing. When I told her how I ate and how much I worked out, I could tell she didn’t believe me. She took one look at my body and, much like the doctor this girl saw, assumed I was using my diagnosis as an “excuse.”

It makes me so incredibly sad how many women go to doctors and leave feeling more dejected and hopeless than they felt when they got there. When they spend hours sweating at the gym and trying to eat as little as possible to work past the roadblocks their body is giving them.

I’ve gone to doctors who honestly recommended eating only 500 calories in a day to lose weight. Others basically shrugged and told me I was doing whatever I could and they didn’t know why it wasn’t working.

PCOS is a condition that causes inflammation. It makes it difficult (but not impossible) for your body to regulate insulin. It makes it harder to lose weight and very easy to gain it (contrary to what this doctor said). It presents differently in everyone.

The chemicals found in our daily lives trick our bodies into thinking we have more estrogen in our systems and the rest of our hormones try to compensate for that. Most of us are in constant states of adrenal fatigue. Even really thin people who have “normal” blood sugar levels are sending their blood sugar soaring and crashing on a daily basis. Our bodies are just doing what they can to keep up with our modern lifestyle.

But doing something as simple as eating right for your hormones can help you get your body functioning better. I promise. Don’t completely overlook the things your doctor says, but try to do your own research to make sure you are finding the right solution for yourself and for your health.

Fate

“Can you make a mistake and miss your fate?”

My freshman roommate had this Sex and the City quote hanging up in our dorm room and I’ve thought about it many times over the years. Whenever I feel really rudderless, it pops into my mind and I wonder if I made a wrong turn somewhere and totally missed the big, flashing sign that says FATE in 72-point font.

The older I get, though, the more I see how much these mistakes make our fate.

After I went to Italy, I wrote about the trip in my travel journal and one of the lines that still stands out to me is, “The best parts of our trip happened by accident.”

That particular line has always resonated because it was so true—the most memorable experiences of that trip were the parts that weren’t planned. The days when we got lost and stumbled onto an adventure or met a fellow traveler and allowed them to alter our itinerary. Did we know that we were going to meet a guy from Argentina and take a day trip with him to Pisa and Cortona? No, but that was a great experience.

When I take a larger step back and think about the course of my life in the same fashion, I see that a lot of the “mistakes” were what led me to big revelations. A conversation with a grumpy customer at my high school job eventually led me to take a trip to Israel. A night full of interesting dreams inspired me to pitch a dissertation about dreams in romantic literature for my MA.

During my MFA program, a teacher asked us to create a short piece on our path to writing. I crafted something about how I fell onto all of these different paths that led me to that particular creative writing program and framed it in the sense that I left the entire decision up to fate.

“It sounds like you did know what you were doing,” my teacher said when I finished reading the piece to the class. I remember getting quiet for a second as I thought about what he said.

“You’re right,” I finally admitted. And you know what? He was .

I’m not saying I don’t believe that certain things are meant to be. On the contrary, I definitely think things happen for a reason. But I also think we have more of an active role in the choice than most of us give ourselves credit for.

With that in mind, I’m sure I will still have days where I succumb to wondering if I made a mistake and totally bypassed my fate, but on the whole, I’m going to try to realize that the entire journey is important for the destination—even if there are a few bumps, detours, and mixed exits along the way.