Health & Lifestyle · Healthy Habits · Mental Health

How to be Happy

While organizing my digital files, I stumbled across a document titled How to be Happy. The memory of creating that document rushed back to me and gave my heart a less than gentle squeeze.

Once again, I was seated at our Ikea table in our Williamsburg apartment, trying to grasp any sort of hold on joy. I was working in a job that made me unhappy, living in a city that was someone else’s dream home, and had lost pretty much all touch with my creativity.

The list I wrote called out the dreams, the have nots, the wants. Some items were simple such as move to an apartment with laundry access. Some were more difficult like find a new job in a creative or educational field, live by the water, or get back into writing. I’d wandered off the marked trail and was lost amid a dense forest of skyscrapers, high rises, brownstones, and warehouses- all my breadcrumbs scattered at my feet, awaiting someone to find and rescue me.

There’s a line from Trampled by Turtles’ Widower’s Heart that resonates with me every time I hear it, “New York was a rough place that treated me well.” Sometimes it makes me feel a little guilty for having wanted to leave.

I did a lot of growing up in New York. It was a haven from Baltimore throughout college and it was home afterwards. It facilitated me meeting a group of friends that I can’t imagine my future without. Though grimy, tough, and loud, New York was good to me and I will always love it deeply. It’s not home anymore, however, and I’ve got to admit I prefer it that way.

Live by the water.

We were deep into searching for a new apartment in Brooklyn in January 2020 when a home that we’d been eyeing just for fun dropped in price on Zillow. We scheduled a viewing, rented a car from JFK, and took a drive out to New Jersey just to see it. The pictures hadn’t done the view justice, an observation since echoed by every new visitor we’ve ever had.

We went for drinks at a local brewery to think the idea over knowing it would be crazy if we bought the first place we ever looked at after having looked exclusively at apartments for rent in New York. We were renters. Renters didn’t have to deal with home repairs. Renters didn’t have to pay property taxes. Renters lived in tiny apartments in Brooklyn hoping to be able to afford a miniscule view of the East River.

The idea of buying seemed more sensical as we talked and sipped, but often harkened back to but it would be crazy… right?

It all came down to happiness. While New York was good to me and Mike would never feel the need to live anywhere else, he knew, more than I did, that I’d be much happier living by the water and, as is often the case, he was right.

I am a person who puts myself last in most situations. Why? Because I don’t like putting other people in a place where they have to experience discomfort. I’d rather be the uncomfortable one. It’s fucked up, yes, but it’s true and I’m working on it. Sometimes it takes someone else looking in to notice the effect of constant self-pressure. Sometimes it takes someone else to open their mouth and say it’s ok; we can leave New York. Sometimes it takes someone who loves you a whole lot to make you feel worthy of the change you know is necessary.

So we did something crazy. We bought the first and only home we’d thought about purchasing and moved to New Jersey. We escaped living through the pandemic in New York and instead lived in a place with fresh air and quiet outside the door. I like to think that that wasn’t a terrible consolation for Mike.

My love for New Jersey has very deep roots. There was something about coming home that was instantly calming- something about the water and the moonrise and the trees. I started to write again even though I didn’t feel confident in it. Confidence comes from practice. Confidence comes from having the courage to try.

I thought I’d make a new list to stumble across sometime in the future, perhaps a more general one in case you happen to stumble across it too.

How to be Happy:

  1. Be kind to your body. You’ve only got one.
  2. Prioritize sleep.
  3. Take difficult responsibilities one day or one step or one micro-step at a time.
  4. Move your body every day in a way that works for you.
  5. Commit to exercising good bodily and dental hygiene practices.
  6. Don’t overspend on finances, time, and energy.
  7. End each day with a positive thought or reflection. If you can’t think of one, look up positive affirmations online to jog your memory.
  8. Don’t bury your emotions. Listen to them. Voice them. Address them. You feel them for a reason.
  9. Forgive yourself for your mistakes. You are human. Erring is inevitable, but you are capable of learning and improving.
  10. Know that change is possible, no matter how difficult.
  11. Keep empty space on your calendar. It’s ok to say no to social engagements.
  12. Take a break from screens. Read, go for a walk, listen to music, work on a puzzle, make a new recipe, whatever puts a smile on your face and keeps your brain occupied.
  13. Stop comparing yourself to others. Your uniqueness is amazing and beautiful. Anyone who says otherwise doesn’t deserve an ounce of your attention.
  14. Don’t expect the worst of people. Chances are you are harder on yourself than anyone else would dare to be.
  15. Know that someone, somewhere loves you exactly as you are (likely lots of someones in lots of somewheres).

I hope this post helps you if you are feeling lost in the forest like I was. Your happiness is a worthy cause and it is possible. Breathe. Allow yourself to feel everything, even the difficult things. Give yourself a break. Scatter your breadcrumbs at your feet. You are capable of your own rescue.

Health & Lifestyle · Mental Health

Not So Cozy

This one’s not so cozy. For that, I apologize.

I am craving joy and coziness and am having trouble finding them amidst this sticky July heat on the east coast and the healthy habits that I’ve started to get used to. My reading material of late evokes feelings opposite of coziness thanks to the haunting story-spinning of the talented Stephen King. His images seep into my dreams in the quiet, dark night and rest upon my chest like the Nightmare in Henry Fuseli’s painting.

The family house in rental season is reminding me of past triggers that have caused my brain wires to overheat and shut down, but at least the place won’t actually try to devour me- right? I, myself, am ravenous for a cold breeze that lasts a week or more and a sweater that’s (hopefully) a little too big now.

I want to shut off the overactive mode of my imagination for a while and get a sense of what it’s like to feel calm in my own head for a prolonged period of time. I have a surplus of time and should be calm. And somehow, I seem to collect disquietude as a hobby in the summer.

Movement and fresh, dry air are the best medicine, but the air is wet and stagnant outside and hums with curious insects. Walking inland is endurable but not pleasant in this heat and walking by the ocean coaxes the sand fleas from where they’ve burrowed in the cemented shoreline as each new wave draws close.

Inside there is AC and writing to be done, tea to be brewed, and books Stephen King didn’t write. I’ll crack one of those open tonight like a cold drink and lock the nightmares out of the bedroom before my head sinks to the pillow. A healthy dose of sleep and sweet enough dreams- all I need to lighten the irrational burdens of summer.

Nostalgic Posts · Poetry

Sixteen

Seventeen was sweeter than sixteen

But sixteen wasn’t half bad

Carefree and alive

Attempting to drive

Converse on the clutch

Bubblegum on the breath

Sargent at the Met

TAI… at the Bowery

Broadway Diner and Nautilus

Fries dipped in gravy

Magic Blends from the fountain

Tiny tastes of independence

Experimental fashion sense

Mini skirts and long sweaters

Julie Taymor directing our lives

Manya’s mannequin in the basement

Some controlled mayhem

Pouring sand on melted plastic in the driveway

Once the last knot burned

Movies on the weekend

Cross-legged in the seats

Peach Schnapps in the basement and The Virgin Suicides

A few sips could buzz our minds

Skylights, fireflies, and finding space on the couch

Sleeping in non-sleeping places

Light as a feather, stiff as a board

Stalled in a cornfield

Chainless saws in the distance

Squeals and laughter- fear’s resistance

Molly, Ally, Emilio, Judd, and Anthony

Stillwater and Doris

Grapes and wishes on New Year’s

With the friends turned family

In the beautiful days of sixteen

Poetry

Abandoned Character

I walked by the bay and disposed of treasure

Without taking care to measure

The value at the time,

What I held as mine-

Now gone,

A passing thought,

A character erased,

The plot debased,

Left on the porch of History House

In a rocker beside the door-

The words no more,

Retained only in memory.

Characters suited to different tales,

Creative concept – doomed to fail,

Flightless birds,

Deleted words,

Debris of fate,

A breath exhaled,

Destruction mode on,

Eliminated pawns,

The Queen- exposed, unknowing.

Protect the protector-

That little defender

Who fell asleep on the job.

Health & Lifestyle · Healthy Habits

Testing Healthier Habits

My focus for the past couple of weeks, during a break from my big writing project, has shifted to healthier habits and how to establish their foundations. The main issue for me is hunger, or rather “hunger” and not knowing when my sensation of being hungry is true or masking some other physical need or emotion.

I have come to learn that people experience hunger and fullness in a spectrum of ways and at different intensities. Some lucky people have an automatic physical cue mid-meal that tells them to stop eating while some people don’t feel full until well after finishing a meal and may suffer the uncomfortable effects of overeating. Some people feel “hungry” on a constant basis when really they may be thirsty, bored, anxious, tired, or sad. For as long as I can remember, I belong to this last camp, but I’ve been working on questioning my hunger and emotional cues to better recognize them for what they actually are. It’s not easy; I’ll tell you that, but it is getting less hard each day.

It’s uncomfortable to feel hungry all of the time, even when you are “fake hungry”. Your brain wants you to feel happy and eating releases dopamine to make you feel good. It’s not cozy to be uncomfortable and you all know that being cozy is a high priority of mine. Comfort is a necessity for coziness, in my opinion. And yet, I am sitting here now feeling cozy despite adopting healthier habits that I’ll get into more in a little bit.

Feeling my own emotions is one thing; they are a mauling bear sometimes. Food is a quick fix. I am great at multitasking when it comes to being emotional and hungry. Fun, right? My sense of empathy takes things over the top though. If I am in proximity to someone who is anxious or sad, it’s a little contagious and guess what? I feel hungry. Yay empathy!

My brain often tells me that I’m hungry when I’m not and because of it, I have a seasoned history of overindulging on things like groceries, eating out, calories, energy, and time. Hunger can be distracting and irritating for me. Satisfying a craving offers immediate, albeit temporary, gratification and relief.

I have learned that when I am truly hungry, I am not picky. The craving for true hunger is for nourishment, not for a particular taste. Certain foods do a better job at filling up real hunger while others trick you into eating more without providing the nutrients that your real hunger craves, so you will keep feeling hungry. Put the chips away! Those crunchy tricksters.

I haven’t had a drop of coffee since my last post and if you are a dedicated reader, you know it’s been a while since I’ve shared here, and you also know that I was a coffee addict. I feel better without coffee, honestly- less anxious. I am sleeping well and wake up energized as opposed to reliant on my next caffeine fix. Besides, my taste perception of coffee has changed from finding it delicious to finding it unpalatably bitter. It was my cue to lay off the bean juice for a while.

I am drinking less alcohol too and more water and am feeling and seeing the effects. My skin feels cleaner and brighter, my sleep – less interrupted, my scalp- less dry and itchy. Who knew that all this time relief for dandruff could be a side effect of proper nourishment? Let’s be real, probably many, many people. It just took me a while to trip over the wisdom and notice it.

Adopting healthy habits can feel like an insurmountable chore from the onset. This is the first time it hasn’t felt like that for me. I’m not “on a diet” and I’m not cutting out any foods for good. I am asking myself questions about how I feel when my body signals hunger. I am making choices based on that assessment. I am slowly figuring out my own hunger cues knowing that mine might be different from other people’s. I am sharing with you, because seeing it in my own writing always helps me to make sense of things.

If you are someone who struggles with frequent, false hunger and food cravings, I feel you. I understand the sense that achieving a healthier lifestyle can feel like a hopeless dream sometimes. Let me be one to remind you that the perfect body type doesn’t exist. Beauty and healthy bodies take many shapes and forms. Focus on baby steps and you’ll notice they can take you much further than you think. Talk with your “hunger” cues. Ask them if they are real and maybe your body will get back on speaking terms with you.

Here are a few strategies that I have practiced in order to assess my state of hunger before reaching for food.

  1. Take a short walk or move around.
  2. Talk to or text a friend or family member.
  3. Have a glass of water.
  4. Watch a YouTube video on a subject you enjoy.
  5. Complete something on your to-do list.
  6. Don’t deny yourself foods you love; they make you happy. You deserve to be happy, not deprived.
  7. Try reaching for 3/4 or 1/2 of the portion of a snack you would normally have and save the rest for later.
  8. Settle into the discomfort and hangriness of being hungry so you can recognize it for what it really means. Feel it and question it. Are you bored? Are you anxious? Thirsty? Needs and emotions like this can manifest as hunger.
  9. Have a cup of tea or seltzer; it may feel more substantial than plain water.
  10. Take it one meal at a time and don’t get discouraged if the first few days are really difficult. It gets easier.
  11. Put your typical portion size on your plate and see if eating without distractions of television or phones quiets down the world enough for your body to hear you question if you are full. No one is making you throw the food away. Get some foil or Tupperware and put the rest away for a snack later on. You will be glad for it then!

I am not a medical professional so these tips are simply based on exercises that I have found helpful in my own experiment with adopting healthy habits. I want to feel good in my body because I’ve only got this one and there are people out there who care about me that I want to be around for for a long, long time.

I want to say thank you so much for reading my posts. Writing this was a nice distraction from false hunger this morning.

On another note, some friends alerted me to the difficulties of commenting on these blog posts so I have updated the comment settings for anyone so inclined (Thank you Jean and Darlene!). You all inspire me to be creative and I would love to hear from you. Hope you all have a beautiful, fulfilling, and filling day!

Poetry

Dream on the Cusp

Woke up today feeling small-

Not weak or defeated,

Just not much at all,

A speck on a marble that spins round and round,

In a bed, in a house, on the ground.

You couldn’t see me from space,

Head up in the clouds

Of fog fallen from grace,

Looking up towards the gray to peel and reveal,

And wonder why Earth’s a big deal.

Dreams circle black holes

Drawn to depths un-suspect,

Stretched like melted shoe soles,

Till I can’t recognize, translate, or surmise,

Stars extinguished from sparkling skies.

Wake to reason sipped on the porch-

Ground elixir of addicts

That can’t hold a torch

To the infinite warps of spacetime, sublime

That inspired this wandering rhyme.

Poetry

Baby Bear’s Porridge

I taste a sense of possibility and capability that is new to me today.

It’s the most delicious thing I’ve tasted so far

And I wonder why I put off making it for so long.

Perhaps the steps of the recipe were too daunting.

Perhaps it required a long list of ingredients from a hundred different places

Or the kitchen was too cluttered to get to the cabinets, sink, and stove.

Perhaps the recipe looked very long on the page

Or parts of it were torn from the cookbook

Or stuck together with once-edible, mystery adhesive.

I peeled apart the pages with an unfamiliar determination

And wiped away the weakened cement of grime so they wouldn’t stick together again.

I read the recipe through for the first time.

I let the overwhelm sink in and chose to ignore it

Then sourced the called-for ingredients –

Turns out I had most of them on hand already.

I prepared them at my own pace and came to realize

That I craved exactly this at many points in life:

All those times when I was ravenous

And snacked on something else that didn’t satisfy.

The recipe always seemed too difficult to attempt,

The estimated cook time-too long.

And once I got going, I was overzealous

And some of the magic splashed out of the pot,

But I’ve adjusted the heat and thrown in some spices.

It’s simmering now- just needs a little longer-

A few more spices here and there, maybe.

I want to get it just right.

Travel

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Today has been written off as a travel recovery day. We got home from the airport around 2:30AM due to a delay on our flight home from the sunshine state, but we were happy to have gotten home by then at all. The flight at the neighboring gate to ours in Tampa was canceled after 3+ hours of delays which resulted in one of the disappointed LaGuardia-bound passengers going full Hulk in the terminal, such that he had to be escorted out by eight police officers. We felt lucky in comparison to only be delayed two hours and not to have to spend the night in some airport hotel by the Bay in return-limbo.

Once we deplaned in Newark, the trek from our gate to our car felt long. We were racing against an unknown grace-period beyond the length of our pre-paid parking. We rolled our carry-ons along the waxed tile floors of the shiny new-ish terminal, down an escalator, up an escalator, down an escalator again. We slugged along the acid-washed, blue passage connecting Terminal A to the Airtrain station, passing a man who had lost all care for his luggage and was scraping his bags along the passage wall. We transferred on the Airtrain and finally arrived at our unreliable little car that decided to be reliable this morning, the little angel. We were pleasantly surprised to still be within the parking grace-period when driving through the exit toll of the garage and that put a smile on our faces.

We decided that, despite being dead tired, a stop at Wawa seemed necessary on the way home. Mike expertly navigated the confusing start to our journey as I pointed out all the ways we would have taken a wrong turn and ended up somewhere in Elizabeth if I were navigating.

We enjoyed the empty highways characteristic of the early morning hours when most of New Jersey’s dwellers are nestled in their beds. The hour offered quiet, cool relief compared with the Florida heat and Wawa was a bright, quick respite. We stocked up on a few snacks and we were home soon enough.

Typically, I unpack everything as soon as we get home, but hunger and sleepiness delayed this process. We ate our “meal” in groggy, happy silence, brushed our teeth and fell asleep before we even realized it.

Today, my muscles and bones feel like they were replaced with wet sand and my hair could use a wash but that would certainly be overextending for the day. The grocery shopping is done, the bags are unpacked, and a load of laundry needs to be folded, but that can wait until tomorrow. I preferred to sit here and catch up with you, to move my fingers, and pretend the day was somewhat productive even though I may still be a little bit asleep. I will relish 2:00AM tomorrow from my dreams, tucked comfortably up in warm sheets and a quilt, unconscious to the stress and uncertainties of planes, trains, and automobiles.

Health & Lifestyle · Mental Health

Henry, Jack, John, and Jo

When I left work on the last day of my old job last summer, I cried on my short drive home, parked, composed myself, and that was that.

Last year was a rollercoaster that sort of coasted on the downs for more than was amusing and had me fighting for my misvalued worth for months in reaction to changes in salary structure for roles like mine at my place of work – a battle that I ultimately lost. Let’s just say there was a lot of crying in the shower. I was already down when the final kick came, but it was time to go and I was braced for it so it didn’t hurt too bad and the bruising was minimal.

Despite the low points, I still loved that place and it was rough to say goodbye.

Rewind to about a week and a half before that last day. I had just had a meeting to plead my final case, which you now know did not yield the desired outcome. It just wasn’t in the cards. I sort of expected that already, but I had to try everything. After work, I went to my family’s shore house to see relatives visiting from California and my cousin, having been pre-warned that I was probably going to have a difficult day at work, took my drink order in advance.

“What do you want when you get here?” she asked.

“An Old Fashioned,” I said.

“You got it,” she said.

I walked in the back door of the house and she handed me two, one for each hand, with a look of determination to make the night fun. That is love and that is what my family is like. They will pick you up when you are down and they will match your level, sip for sip the entire way.

The bottle of Jack Daniels was pretty full when I arrived that evening. It sat in the middle of the dark stained wooden buffet in the dining room. My uncle, aunts, mom, husband, cousin and her fiancée soon each had an Old Fashioned in front of them too. The glasses were warm honey in the glow of the chandelier fixture, adorned with delicately peeled orange rinds. We reviewed my day together. We bolstered my self confidence to the point where I could smile instead of just look worried and unsettled. I told them what I’d stay for and they increased the amount as the conversation continued until we came to a mutual agreement on what was a reasonable full time salary for a person of my skill.

As the night wore on, the purple Five Crowns box made its way to the table and we began to play. The bottle of Jack grew increasingly dehydrated. We grew increasingly giddy. We listened to a John Denver inspired Spotify playlist.

“Country Roads, Take me home, To the place I belong…”

My unease lessened. I laughed a lot. There is no medicine better than being with your people. Whatever was going to happen would happen and it was out of my hands. I’d given it my best effort. I’d given it every effort. I wouldn’t let the fight take more from me than it already had. It didn’t really matter anyway because I had these amazing people, a glass full of topaz, and cheeks that were sore from laughing.

I think in my head I knew how it would go. If it was in the cards, it wasn’t in my hand and I wasn’t ready for another round.

When I got in my car on my last day of work, I allowed myself to cry for the drive home. I got home and watched Little Women. I met Jo March. Jo was a writer. She was brave and she was told no. I was brave and I was told no for other things. So, might as well write like Jo.

Poetry

Metallic Lurex Shine

Sometimes it can be tough to remember that you are pink champagne, red lipstick, and fizzing sparklers when it’s late and the spiral’s poised on the projector just about to unwind.

Letting it run would be less than wise,

Besides you’ve already seen the reel, time and again.

Don’t you remember?

Open the closet and the drawers before hitting the pillow.

You didn’t think it fitting to represent yourself with neutrals.

You are far from beige.

That’s not your kind of minimalism.

You are flower patterns and faux fur.

Silk and embroidery.

Red shoes and lurex.

You gleam and shine for everyone.

You gleam and shine for you.

Why can’t you see it at this hour?

Embrace the beauty that you choose everyday.

Maybe get rid of the mini dresses though? You’re over thirty now, love.

Then again, maybe not.

You are long legs and lashes, soulful pipes and the biggest smile.

Remember?

You are witty and sweet.

You relish really atrocious puns and dad jokes and you’ve absolutely no right, hear?

You are worth a lot to a lot.

You are worth a lot to you too.

You are nostalgia and seasonal stamps on long-winded greeting cards sent through snail mail.

You are passionate about the littlest things.

Your imagination can create a fictional reality from an image, word, or idea.

Sometimes you can’t stop laughing, to the point of pain.

You love all your kiddos to bits.

You shine for them too and it takes a decade off you.

You are sparkly magic.

You think dancing means jumping about, assuming it’s convincing enough in a fancy enough dress.

And you love a fancy dress.

You are pearls and gold hoops and tall, loud boots.

You are an encyclopedia of book, movie, and music trivia.

You are made of stardust,

Of family and friends.

You sprinkle dreams every day, hoping they grow tall as sunflowers.

You are blind to the point that lights shine like glowing K’nex Connectors.

You are a loveable nerd and an acceptable weirdo.

You make your loved ones laugh.

You are doing better than fine, better than beige.

You are my dream girl.

Now go get to dreaming.