Eyes

A new acquaintance recently asked me, “What personal quality of yours do you hope your child will adopt?”  Surprisingly, with all the great qualities I possess (cough), it didn’t take long to come up with the (as in the royal “the”, not the American “the”) answer.  As a side note, what was surprising was being able to condense my response into one SMALL paragraph!

My first thought was that of kindness. Then I thought about my uh, ummmm, let’s just call it, ‘superior multi-tasking and attention to detail’ skills. (You can read anal-retentiveness but I’m not writing it.) Then it hit me; I’d like for my daughter to adopt the gift of understanding why a person, including herself, reacts the way they do.

How did I arrive at choosing this particular personal quality over so many others? Let me weave a story that spans a decade.

I’m going to take you back to my Fate part I and Fate part II blogs. These are the blogs chronicling how my forever husband and I met, how he dumped me and how Susie saw, with her spiritual eyes, what was going on spiritually.  Even back then, when I was in such intense emotional pain, Susie was teaching me new ways of adapting and looking at things.

These conversations showed me that often a different set of eyes is needed in order to see what’s going on behind the scenes. What I mean by this is seeing why a person lashes out at you or why you lash out at them. And it doesn’t have to be lashing out (anger) either; it may be avoidance, sorrow or animosity.

A few years after Susie guided me through that emotional abyss and several instances later, I began noticing I often had a knowing or an intuitive ‘hit’ as to how a situation was different from what we saw with our physical eyes.

For instance, a client recently told me she was angry with a friend who had distanced herself without any explanation. I ‘looked’ into this and saw that the friend was trying to be supportive of my client’s busy life.  She wanted to give my client some space in order for her to accomplish all that she wanted to do. I also saw that this friend would be there for my client when my client was ready to reconnect. This took the hot air right out of my client’s anger balloon.

In another instance, my client was confused when a romantic relationship ended prematurely. She didn’t know what happened as everything appeared to be going well.  I ‘saw’ that this guy was very afraid of his intense feelings for her and bailed. This allowed her to understand she didn’t do anything wrong, she didn’t cause this and it helped her figure out what she wanted to do next. Hummm, this scenario sounds familiar, right Fate I and Fate II blog readers???!

One more example would be a client who was having extreme anxiety over how a coworker was treating her. I saw that this coworker was trying to help my client grow spiritually by putting some fuel on the proverbial low self-worth fire.  This person was trying to give my client opportunities to say no and to stand up for herself.   After hearing this, my client told me this was a life-long issue for her and something she wanted to work on. She emailed me a week later stating she had set some boundaries for herself, her friends, coworkers and others.

Developing this gift has allowed me to step into another person’s emotional shoes and better understand why a particularly painful or reactive response was triggered. It has helped me calm nerves and soothe anger. It has also helped me deal with my own emotional pain. But you don’t need to be an Intuitive to do this, you just need to be perceptive and open to looking at things in a different light.

What if we all practiced seeing each other’s pain with compassion and empathy instead of with anger and hostility? What if we all calmly said, ‘Wow, it looks like you’re having a strong reaction to what I said. Can you tell me why?”  Or, what if you internally said, “Wow, I am having a strong reaction to that. What do I need to look at and work on in order to try and heal the pain inside of me so this doesn’t happen again?”

By holding off on reacting to what we think is true and looking at things from a slightly different angle, it may help all of us to heal old wounds. And that, for me, is why I chose this particular trait or gift for my daughter to adopt. I believe it can literally change the world into a better place.

Tanning

“Oh, you got some sun!  You look SO good!”  Or, said with an enviable voice, “You’re soooooo tan.” I have overheard these and similar comments being said and I’m finding I’m having a very strong reaction to them…so….a blog is born.

A tan is NOT healthy, it is NOT good for you and it is NOT to be envied. Do you know what a tan is? It’s your body’s innate reaction of trying to protect you…your skin… from further damage. So let’s tweak the above statements.  “Oh, you got some sun DAMAGE! Your poor skin!” or “You’re soooo tan. I’m so sorry!”

Yeah, I’m having a little fun with this but I do speak from experience.  You see, when I was a teenager and a young adult, I remember racing home from work so I could lay in the sun, even for a half hour.  I would bake in my early to mid-twenties by applying baby oil or Hawaiian Tropic Tan Accelerator.  Then something changed and I started applying sunSCREEN.  That was also about the same I started washing the make up off of my face at night, but that’s another story.

As a child, I was lucky enough to be at several lakes throughout ND, MN and SD. I used sunscreen, but I don’t remember reapplying.  I loved being in the water, and my pale Norwegian/Austrian/Mutt skin had many, many severe sunburns. I remember one, in particular, that caused me to throw up several times.

In my mid to late twenties, I visited my parents while they wintered in Arizona.  It was a cloudy day but I was in Arizona and I wanted to get a suntan, dang it!  Oh my LORD! I’d been warned that the Arizona sun was much different than the North Dakota sun but I didn’t listen. Sans sunscreen, my face became so badly burned that my eyelids swelled shut.

When I was in my late thirties, I worked at a skin and laser clinic.  I learned much about our skin and how to take better care of mine. I also learned that the cosmetic industry was capitalizing on the fact that women were willing to pay big bucks in order to reverse the damaging effects of their days of fun in the sun.

My oldest niece (she was 38 at the time) was diagnosed with Melanoma. For those of you who don’t know, Melanoma is the mack daddy of skin cancers. It is scary stuff and it takes lives. Based on my childhood/early adult sun life, I’m a prime candidate for melanoma, as well.

So how did we get our love for tanning?  Here’s a little tanning history; back in the olden days, you were considered ‘lower class’ if you had a tan because that meant you had to work outdoors.  Conversely, those without a tan were considered ‘upper class’ because they didn’t have to work in the sun.

Then, in the 1920’s the designer, Coco Channel, became sunburned while on vacation and well, that was the start of our sun tanning love affair1.

It doesn’t matter if you choose to get your tan on from a tanning bed or the sun; both give off UVA (aging) and UVB (burning) radiation. In fact, tanning beds emit concentrated doses. I can usually spot a tanning bed user as they tend to give off a weird glow, kind of like a neon bulb.

And don’t think you can’t get burned on a cloudy day. I asked my 14 year old bonus son to apply sunscreen the other day and he looked at me like I was spouting a second head (he IS a teenager, after all!). He said, ‘It’s cloudy outside! You can’t get burned when it’s cloudy!!”  Ohhhhh…chil’….I have the same argument with your dad.  YES, yes you can. The sun’s rays penetrate through the clouds.

When I was younger, I didn’t take aging very seriously. Who does?! Back then my attitude was ‘get a bronzing tan today, feel/look good and don’t worry about tomorrow.’  As a teenager/young adult, you never think about your own mortality because you are invincible. Plus you know more than your parents, right?

Now that I am older, I am trying to reverse the damage. I’m fighting the odds of skin cancer and aging. I am proud to be pale. You’ll not hear me apologizing for being un-tanned either, as that would be like me apologizing for trying to stay healthy. “I hope my white legs don’t blind you. I’m trying to remain cancer-free.”

So here I am, years later and much wiser, a self-proclaimed ‘sun-safety girl.’  I wear sunscreen almost all of the time (I’m not perfect!) and I wear hats. I seek shade whenever possible, I wear UVA/UVB protective sun glasses and I am rarely out during the hottest part of the day. I watch my moles and have my doctor check them once a year.

I hope this blog causes you to rethink, even for a moment, how we aggrandize a tan. It is nothing more than our body trying to protect ourselves from harm. The rays, whether they are from the sun or a UV lamp, are NOT healthy; they CAUSE CANCER.

Vermin

Many, MANY years ago in a what seems like a different lifetime, I lived in a home that was located within a budding new development (read: open lots/fields). I was trying to be domestic by planting flowers (ewwww…shutter!) and I was truly the ultimate Attila the Mom with my new plantings.

That’s where God’s little creatures and I butted heads for the first time. Let’s just say I had to do a tango with some chipmunks who were nesting under our front porch. They were eating my ’ittle baby budding flowers, for pity sake! You can mess with me, but when you eat my precious flowers (again, I HATE planting flowers!) then you’re gonna get the horns, my friend.

I seem to vividly remember chasing these little chipmunks from their hidey hole with my teeth bared and a broom (or was it a shovel?) over my head while producing a feral scream in the back of my throat. And yes, I performed this little dog and pony show in broad daylight. 

I cornered a couple of them in downspouts and thought I was so smart. Then, when I’d try to raise the downspout and capture them inside, they’d move, scratch their little claws on the metal and I’d let out a little girl scream and drop the downspout.  Some warrior, huh?

And let’s not leave out the time I tried to ‘drown’ them when they were nesting under our front step. That was before I realized it was all sand underneath the steps and the tons of water I was pumping into it was just being soaked up and spit out by our sump pump.

I was consumed by these little machines of mass (flower) destruction. I don’t remember quite how I did it, but I got them all into a 5 gallon bucket and they were either too cute to kill or I didn’t have the chops, so I took them to an empty field about ¾ of a mile away and released them.  They didn’t come back and we didn’t have any more ‘renters’ under our front porch step, either.

I wish I could tell you my flowers survived, but they didn’t. Alas, to add insult to injury, my well-meaning (ex)husband thought my flowers were weeds and he pulled them. ALL of them. I kid you not.

Fast forward 17 years. New husband, new house and critters again, this time voles.  The first year I was all like, “Oooh, they’re so cute! We can’t kill them!”  Wait, that was like the first week or maybe the first day.  Then, the little shits started eating our house, literally, and our window screens AND to top it off, our new landscaping!! 

Well, that’s the proverbial kiss of death right there.  Landscaping is expensive and now you’re eating our HOUSE?! Something changed inside of me and I hardened, if you will. It’s primal. It’s like, “Me or you, buddy and it ain’t gonna be me. This is MY turf and you are not welcome here.”  Picture me beating on my chest with closed fists, because that’s the energy I was exuding.

Trinity was on it. In fact, he was waiting for me to give him the approval. He was much more effective and efficient in dispatching the ravenous rodents in our window wells. Granted, he didn’t try to use a two iron or a basketball as my starter husband tried to do, but he got the job done in a humane way.  

By the way, interesting fact about voles (who look like mice but are smaller), they can have 100 babies a year.  Yes, ONE vole can have 100 babies. They have a three week gestation period and can start breeding at one month. 

In 2013, Trinity started, evidently, evolving into the bird whisperer and built two bird houses. One was for a wren and one was for a robin. We got our wren who is really a fabulously polite renter and instead of the robin, we got a black bird that is so damn high strung she flies out of her nest when I sneeze INSIDE the house with the windows CLOSED.  Oy! We call her Nelly, as in Nervous Nelly.

So now I’ve noticed barn swallows around our home. I don’t recall seeing them around here before and today one of them flew into our garage. I investigate and the bird flies out. Ok, that’s weird, but whatever. 

Then, THEN! I walk to the end of the garage and about 6 of the little aerialists dive at me. Oh hell no. HELL NO! I see what is going on here and I won’t have it. I look for nests inside the garage and I don’t see any. I shut the garage door (I really wanted to type ‘down’ after that but refrained myself!) and immediately hear a racket of excited chirping. Then I see the posse land by our front door and on the eaves above it.  Nope. Not going to have it.

I grab a broom. I have visions of my Grandma Jessie doing this at the lake and have an instant flashback to the chipmunks. I pray nobody is outside when I open the door.  There is (of course!). I start shouting (as if the birds can understand the lunatic woman), “Get out! Get the hell out of here!” and wave a broom around.  My neighbor looks up and I justifyingly and righteously stammer, “They’re trying to build a nest in MY garage!”  He smiles and says, “Oh.” And I’m thinking, with one eyebrow raised, your garage door is open too, buddy, I’d be on my guard if I were you.

After repeated failed attempts  (doi!) to use the broom as a baseball bat and the birds as the baseball, I slunk back inside with my head low. Then, my friends, sadly I quietly shut the garage door. For now.

You may have won the battle, barn swallows, but I WILL win the war. 

Giving

My girl, Karla Winandy of Bell State Bank, asked my husband and me if we would like to give away $1000 of Bell State Bank’s Pay It Forward money.  For those of you who know us, we often do random acts of kindnesses. They range from leaving a generous tip, to buying someone else’s coffee/meal to reducing the price or not charging for our professional services.  We aren’t looking for thanks. We’re looking for the feeling…the high we get by doing these little, seemingly insignificant random acts of kindnesses.

Karla remembered the “Mother’s Day” story the Fargo Forum ran last year about Trinity and our daughter handing out flowers to moms who were unluckily/luckily grocery shopping on Mother’s Day. She thought Trinity and I “would be the perfect recipients” and that we’d “do something truly heartfelt.”

I was overjoyed to be given this honor.  And of course, I really wanted to find a good cause for this money.  I didn’t want it to go to a well known or large non-profit or charity, I wanted something smaller, something local, something within our community.

My first selection came easily and was somewhat a no-brainer. I chose the NOW Project which is a charity that has a chapter right here in Fargo.  My girl, Mariah Prussia, told me The NOW Project is a world-wide non-profit organization that is designed to prevent, empower, protect and restore the health and well-being of all women and children.

This organization teaches women/children how to fight an attacker by teaching them warning signals (verbal and non-verbal), how to engage in combat that may save their lives (several scenarios are taught) and how to deal with verbal/emotional abuse.   Mariah said she is working with the Rape and Abuse Crisis Center, NDSU and local schools to bring this curriculum to them.

I’ve had female clients who have been sexually harassed in the workplace and they didn’t have any idea how to deal with it. I am a survivor of emotional/verbal abuse and a large part of my Work is to empower others, soooooo you can see why this one was an easy choice for me.

The second selection had me scouring the internet for local non-profits/charities that dealt with infants/children’s needs (diapers, blankets, books, clothing, milk).  Nothing fit. Nothing was clicking. I’d let it rest and then search some more.  Nothing.

Then, as I was leaving a local grocery store earlier this week, it ‘hit’ me like a ton of bricks who the rest of the money should go to. I literally rolled my eyes and said, “DOI!” It was right there all along, I just couldn’t see it.

The second recipient is a mom and grandmother whom, over the span of several months, took good, watchful care of our newborn daughter. She allowed this new momma to feel confident we made the right decision to entrust our precious cargo to a local daycare. Even after Ceta had transitioned to another room, and then another, DeeAnn would check in on Ceta and visit with us.

DeeAnn’s husband was in a car accident around Christmas 2013 where he sustained a debilitating brain injury.  Surgeons removed a portion of his brain dealing with memory and because of this he needs 24-hour care. DeeAnn took a leave of absence from her beloved newborns and became a full-time care taker for her husband.  I can only guess at the emotional and financial strain this has placed on her and her family. Because of the kindness she showed to this exhausted first-time momma and the devotion she shows to her ‘babies’ and her family, we chose DeeAnn as our second recipient.

A huge THANK YOU to Bell State Bank for offering this program, to the Fargo Forum for running the story about Trinity giving away flowers, to Karla for remembering the story and thinking of us to Mariah for overcoming her own emotional obstacles to bring The Now Project to Fargo to DeeAnn for being DeeAnn.  I could go on, but I’m hoping you get the picture of how interconnected we REALLY are (insert sly smile here).

A fortune cookie saying.

SQUIRREL!

“Oh, dear GOD, I am a lunatic!” I wasn’t belittling or abasing myself. No, this was more of an acknowledgement. Dear God, I am a LUNATIC.

I caught myself saying this while doing what so many kazillion of us do; multi-tasking. Although for me, ‘multi’ doesn’t cut it anymore. I came up with a new phrase (feel free to copy it!); MEGA-tasking.

Sometime after having a baby, I morphed into Dr. Bruce Banner’s version of a bad gamma radiation accident; I became a (dum dee dum dum DUM) MEGA-tasker. Unfortunately, I’m so busy starting and stopping these tasks that I’m not sure what I’m actually getting done.

Here’s a typical 10 minutes in my morning: Oooh coffee, yes please (turn on the previously prepared coffee pot and open the fridge to get the dark chocolate almond milk.) Hey, who put the salsa on that shelf? Trinity! Better move that or I won’t be able to concentrate. Oh, we’re almost of out of eggs, I need to write that on the grocery list (shut the fridge door leaving the almond milk in it).

(Open drawer behind the fridge, rifling through the millions of pens/pencils) Geez, why can’t I find ‘my’ pen when I want it? Where is it? Well damn it, did Trinity take it? Should I text him? That’s a bit extreme, Melissa. Just use another pen and make a mental note to ask the pen stealer later. You’ve wasted enough time looking for this one.

(As I’m grabbing a pencil, I look at the spot where our daughter eats) Ewww, gross. I forgot to wipe up the counter after dolly’s breakfast. Well, better get that done (put the pencil on the counter and turn towards the kitchen sink) but first I’ll put these dirty dishes in the dishwasher and WHAT is that smell? Egads! Is that ME?! No, it has to be Ceta. “Ceta, honey. Did you go potty?” “No poop momma.”  ‘No poop momma’ my ass. I NEED to stop what I’m doing and change her diapers (I leave the dishwasher door wide open).

Three steps outside the kitchen, with child in arms, I see a puzzle in the middle of the hallway and know I need to put it away or I’ll be doing mach 2, step on it and pull a groiny. As I squat to put it away, I notice the recycling bin is overflowing. I put the child down, leave the puzzle and take the recycling outside.

On my way back into the house I stop to turn off the bathroom light and I see I didn’t put away the puzzle. I start towards it but then I glance into Ceta’s room where I see her clean laundry. I zip into her room, put away her clothes, pick up the multitude of blankets on the floor, refill her diapers and then remember to grab some clothes hangers.

As I’m leaving her room, I see the chaos that remains; the puzzle, the open dishwasher, the crumbs, yogurt and pencil on the counter. I realize I haven’t had my coffee and I haven’t changed my daughter’s diapers. I’ve also completely forgotten to write ‘eggs’ on the grocery list and chances are I won’t remember to do that. Instead, I’ll look at the pencil like it’s an alien and then blame Trinity for not putting it away.

Ok. Where was I? Oh yes, I have to corral my daughter again. Just follow the smell, Melissa. Stay on task. Don’t stop to pick up the socks or move the ‘beep beep’ toy out of the way. I may pay for that decision later when I’m not looking where I’m going, but for now, I leave it.

That, my friends, is literally about 10 minutes in my life. On a good day.

I’ve always been an efficient worker but lately it seems as if I get bright-shiny-objected (BSO) way too much.  I always think it won’t take me long to pick up this or put away that but inevitably, it leads to something else that I feel needs my immediate attention NOW.

I’m also realizing that if I have five or ten minutes to myself, I don’t do something FOR myself. Nope. I opt to do menial chores or prep items for the following day. I’ve tried to sit for 3 minutes without pulling a Jack-In-The-Box and it doesn’t work. I think the longest I was able to sit still was about 90 seconds.  Curses! It’s like an addiction!   I try to see how long I CAN sit still, especially while I’m helping my daughter eat, but inevitably, I can’t sit still. Something needs my immediate attention (or so my brain thinks).

One of the very last things I want my daughter to inherit is my OCD. I don’t want her to think she has to fly around the house like a madwoman picking up this and putting away that. I want her to know that it’s perfectly fine to rest and do NOTHING. I want her to know the dust bunny by her feet will still be there when she’s done with her down time. I’m trying. I really, really am but this is a tough nut (pun intended!) to crack.

(What do you do to stop BSO’ing? I’d love to know and I’m sure other readers would be interested, too. Please post what works for you in the comment section.)

Coconut Oil

I’m a relative newcomer to the coconut oil bandwagon.  A few years ago, Charmaine told me how I could evenly substitute coconut oil for butter when making cookies or while cooking.  It took me a while to warm up to the idea but once I did, it was bub-bye butter.

Shannon has told me she uses organic, unrefined coconut oil for almost everything. She takes tablespoons of it each day to help with her Fibromyalgia, reduce her sugar cravings and allow her to feel satisfyingly full. She uses it as a facial/body moisturizer and mixes essential oils with it for a deodorant. She tells me it’s the MacGyver of oils. If she can’t use coconut oil with or for something, it’s not worth doing. Connie, who has a strong background in cosmetology, tells me she uses coconut oil as a deep conditioner for her hair and a moisturizer for her lips and cuticles.

Ahhhhh, the humble coconut; so unassuming and yet so multi-dimensional. According to Mercola.com, these two gals are spot on with their uses. In fact, here’s a few more:

·         Shaving lotion: Just apply a thin layer and shave as usual. The lauric acid in the coconut oil will also act as an antiseptic for shaving nicks and cuts. Good to know for people like me who, um, like to get the most out of their disposable razor.

·         Insect Repellant: Mixing coconut oil with a high-quality essential oil(s) such as peppermint, lemon, rosemary, tea tree, citronella or catnip oil can help repel those little buggers. Wait. Catnip oil? Really? Yep. According to one study, catnip oil is 10 times more effective than DEET. Well, shizzle my dizzle! I wonder if you’ll have all the kitties in the neighborhood after your milkshake?? I also wonder if this study was done on ND/MN mosquitos!

·         Head Lice: LICE?! Yep. Combine coconut oil and anise to create a treatment that is nearly twice as effective as the prescription Permethrin.

It can also be used alone, or in some cases, in combination with a high quality essential oil for cold sores, ear infections, bug bites/stings, athlete’s foot, chicken pox and eczema.  I can attest to the eczema part as my daughter is prone to bouts of eczema during the winter months. This year I am using organic, unrefined coconut oil on her and her eczema is almost non-existent. In contrast, last winter we went through a tube of (sparingly used) hydrocortisone.

It’s also said that coconut oil destroys free radicals and can help your skin look more youthful by diminishing fine lines and wrinkles.  If looks aren’t your thing, how about your health? Coconut oil contains 50% of a ‘miracle’ ingredient called lauric acid. This acid can actually destroy viruses such as measles, HIV/herpes, influenza, pneumonia, UTI’s and vaginitis.

What are some of the physical benefits to using coconut oil over others? Well, a HUGE one is organic coconut oil isn’t genetically modified, however over 90% of soy, corn and canola oils are. Zoinkies Scoob!  Organic coconut oil promotes weight loss, metabolism, immune system and heart health as well as providing immediate energy.  Yes, you read right: immediate energy. That’s because coconut oil is immediately converted to energy, via your liver, instead of being stored as fat. No kidding.

I was curious about the difference between refined and unrefined (virgin) coconut oil. Refined is good for baking and cooking as it can withstand higher temperatures (450 degrees). It also doesn’t have any coconut smell.  The reason for this is because unrefined coconut meat is often dried in open air and, because of this drying method, can result in salmonella poisoning. To ensure this doesn’t happen, the coconut meat needs to be purified and is put through a bleach filtration system. Once that’s done, it’s heat treated to remove any odor.1

Unrefined (virgin) coconut oil uses fresh, not dried, coconut meat. This ensures the oil is sanitary and doesn’t need additional purification, however it can only withstand 350 degree heat. To produce unrefined coconut oil, there are two methods used and while I’m not going to go into detail (you’re welcome), I will say that both methods result in a coconut oil that wasn’t purified by bleach. Because of this, it does maintain some (mild) coconut odor.

Through personal experience, I find the unrefined coconut oil to be a better choice for lotion as it melts like buttahhh when rubbed between your palms. The refined is more difficult to melt and now that I know bleach is used to purify it…well….. (gulp).

And what coconut oil blog would be complete without dispelling what you think you know about the saturated fats in coconut oil? Pishaw, my faithful readers! Not this blog!  It’s not the enemy you may believe it to be. The saturated fats in coconut oil are naturally occurring. Ding ding! The key words here, in the saturated fat fight are, ‘naturally occurring.’ You see, again according to Dr. Mercola,2  there are  other fats which are “artificially manipulated into a saturated state through the man-made process called hydrogenation.”  If this is the case, it will result in trans-fats which actually contribute to heart disease.  Fair warning! Some of the coconut oils on the market contain hydrogenated oils and trans-fats.  Blasphemy!

I guess the long and the short of it is coconut oil is a dynamo. It has healing, healthful properties and is safe to use both internally and externally. Be sure to read labels (check for trans-fat, hydrogenated oil and even ‘animal byproducts’ – euwwwww) and buy a good quality organic coconut oil; don’t just go for the cheapest.

Maybe make the switch in cooking first and then baking. Then, maybe think about switching your expensive facial moisturizer or maybe even your methyl paraben’d body lotion for plain old coconut oil. Why stop there?  Toothpaste? Sure! Polish furniture? Yes! Oil rusty door hinges? You bet!  Moisturize leather, including the interior of your car? Yes, Yes, YES!  Coconut oil could quite possibly become your MacGyver, too.

IET

What’s IET? It’s Integrated Energy Therapy. Ok, so what’s Integrated Energy Therapy? The long and the short of it is IET is energy work that is specifically designed to help heal emotions, negative beliefs and/or karmic problems.

My friend Shannon performs IET and told me it was created by a Reiki Master so there are a lot of similarities to Reiki. IET differs because it specifically uses a cellular release/imprint method as well as 9 Healing angels. During my session, Shannon explained she’d be using trigger points to release the old and imprint the new. A couple examples of this would be to say, release heartache from the heart and imprint it with love or release fear from the kidneys and imprint safety. She told me how, in IET, angels were associated with different parts of your body (i.e. throat, heart, liver, kidneys, etc.) and would assist with each clearing/imprinting.

I expected this to be a lot like Body Talk where there is a continuous dialog between myself and the practitioner. I also thought I’d be an active participant by saying affirmations with each release.  That was not the case (for my session, anyway) and I kind of liked the silence. I found myself internally repeating, “I easily release all that is no longer for my highest good.”

As with Reiki, I was fully clothed and lying on a massage table. I was peacefully floating along and feeling the gentle energy course through my body. While Shannon was at my throat area, I had an interesting physical reaction. My heartbeat increased, my breathing became shallow and I felt something close to panic. My eyes fluttered open and I said, “Shanny. I’m having a very physical reaction to what you’re doing” and I told her my symptoms. She said she was currently releasing trauma or shame from my throat area.

I didn’t know what this trauma or shame was about but I once again internally repeated, “It is safe for me to let go all that which is no longer for my highest good.”  I did not have a reaction like this again, although I did have a boat load of deep inhalations/exhalations, some leg/foot twitches and a weird on again/off again itchy sensation in the palm of my right hand.

Once our session was finished, Shannon said memories or ‘stuff’ might come up for me to examine.  Boy howdy! I didn’t have to wait long. My first painful memory was about two hours after our session. I was minding my own business, doing my own thing when whammo!  At the time, I didn’t know what this was about as I hadn’t thought about this person or the event in years.   Then another memory not 24 hours later and this one was even more painful and happened years prior to the first one. Upon reflection, both these memories harbored shame and betrayal.

Why did I schedule an IET session in the first place? Because I wanted to see if it would help me get rid of my processed sugar cravings and help me break the addiction cycle. This was also my intention when I went into session so I know the return of these shelved memories are somehow tied to my addiction.

One of the websites I researched said all the clearing/imprinting is done while IN session so a client doesn’t have to do any ‘work’ once they leave the session. But for me, I found myself examining these memories with a different set of eyes. I was left wondering why I hadn’t let the pain/shame/betrayal associated with them go as I believed I had. Perhaps these memories briefly reappeared to let me know the trauma surrounding them is leaving. Only time will tell.

(Melissa’s Note: Want more info on IET? You can contact, Shannon via FB or click on the website link above).

Jonesing

It occurred to me just the other day, after years and years and YEARS of bingeing on processed sugar (most specifically, anything chocolate), that I am an addict. I actually said those words out loud two weeks ago and I know it’s true.  I was out of control with my sugar consumption and when I say ‘out of control,’ I mean there is no earthly way I shouldn’t be in a sugar-induced coma.

Yes, processed sugar is HIGHLY addictive and highly dangerous. Some websites call it a major player in the spread of cancer. Evidently cancer cells thrive on processed sugar. Soon there will be a test that scans the body for accumulation of sugar and that will be a predictor of cancer. Oh my GOD. What am I DOING to my body?!

Sugar is my crutch. It’s my go to. It’s my energy when I’m exhausted, overly tired or stressed. It’s my salve when I’m in pain (emotional or physical). I tell myself I can stop with just one cookie and end up eating a BOX. Most recently I was on a junior mints and peanut turtles tangent. I found myself skipping meals and eating chocolate instead. I would justify my turtle consumption by telling myself it contained peanuts so I was getting something healthy, but I know better. I AM educated on this but I am also an addict whose hormones, routines and/or daily stressors get the better of me. When they do, I turn to my old comforting friend; processed, refined sugar.

As a child I remember eating sugar in the form of Kool-Aid, chocolate pudding and Pixy Stix candy. Some websites say I may have inherited my love (lust) for processed sugar while in the womb. I don’t doubt it. When I was born, I probably asked the doctor for a spoonful of sugar.

Here are some interesting facts about processed sugar (Huffpost Healthy Living):

  • 1.    It’s a major player in cancer growth.
  • 2.    Sugar can affect the pumping mechanism of your heart and brings about muscle protein changes that could lead to heart failure. Humm…so when I was stuffing my maw full of processed sugar and alcohol after a bad breakup, I was actually adding insult to injury to my broken heart.
  • 3.    Sugar can affect the aging of your brain AND body.
  • 4.    It targets your belly and adds fat directly to it.
  • 5.    Sugar can create chronic inflammation which is responsible for a host of medical issues ranging from arthritis, Alzheimer’s and heart attacks.

I was never much of a soda drinker, but I loved my sweets. Back in the day, I could eat all I wanted and remain the weight I desired to be. It was because I did some form of a workout (cardio and/or weights) 6 to 7 days a week and I didn’t eat all that well. It’s no fun cooking for one. Then came husband, baby and breastfeeding and I got used to eating extra (sugar) calories a day. When breastfeeding ended, my extra calorie consumption did not, my exercise was not like it was pre-baby and I gained weight.

The additional weight isn’t what bothers me; it’s what I’m doing to my body by uncontrollably eating this crap. I am a vegetarian for ethical and health reasons.  I take known inflammation reducers like pharmaceutical grade fish oil and extra vitamin C to combat the self-inflicted punishment. I’m trying to trick my mind into believing my sugar consumption will be less damaging because of this, but I know better.  It’s the same mentality I use to justify bingeing on chocolate that contain nuts.

I am keeping a daily diary this time around to document when I want chocolate and how I’m feeling when I do.  I’ve started my detox during a time when my body does not normally crave processed sugar in order to be past the intense cravings by the time it does crave sugar. I’ll journal for 30 days and I may publish it with the hopes others can read about my journey and recognize themselves in me.

I noticed the first two days I was off processed sugar, I had a hard time with my memory. I carried my water bottle into my gym class, sat it down and walked out to do something. Before returning to the room I thought, “Oh crap! I don’t have my water bottle. Is it in the car?” So I bundled up and went out to my car. Not there. Well, what the hell. Did I leave it at home? Crap. Double CRAP! As I was grousing inside my head, I had reentered the class and there was my water bottle, exactly where I had left it, right by my yoga mat. Hello!!!

My friend Shannon has offered some suggestions as to how to get through my sugar cravings. I guess cinnamon bark oil is a great help as is using healthy fats (coconut oil/avocados, etc.).  I don’t know. When I want chocolate, I want CHOCOLATE, not just something sweet.  I’m willing to give her suggestions a try, though. She’s been down this road a time or two as well.

I’m going to break routines I’ve established and create new ones. I’m going to watch my inclinations to turn to sugary food when I’m stressed, agitated or mentally bored and opt for something else.  I’ve got to take care of my body; it’s the only one I have and I need it to stay healthy. I’m not saying I wont eat processed sugar again as that’s completely unrealistic.  I’m saying I’ll introduce the word ‘moderation’ into my vocabulary and faze out the word ‘bingeing’.

Morning

As my two year old daughter lay sleeping, I was thrilled to be able use the potty ALONE. It’s a total luxury and one that doesn’t often happen (right, moms?!). Most of the time my daughter is chasing me as fast as her little legs will allow. Sometimes I’m quicker and get to the bathroom in time to shut the door without my shadow.  But let’s face it; it’s really just a bluff because you know I’m going to open the door.  If I don’t, she throws herself against it, pummels it with her open hands and wails, “Momma! Mommyyyyyyy!” 

If I still insist on punishing myself and compromising my future hearing, my Tasmanian devil will fall to the ground (dramahhhhh) and start kicking the door. The truth be told, I can’t get ANY business done with all that business going on.  

Letting her in does not end my pain. Oh no. In fact, a whole new world of hurt has just been unleased. Once my little learning sponge is inside the bathroom, SHE shuts the door (gee, thanks honey), smiles (help me) and toddles confidently towards me (dry mouth gulp). She’ll smile, look at me and say, “see?” meaning she wants to SEE what I’m doing on the toidy! 

I blame her dad for that. He does his business standing up and she loves to watch the, uh, ok what the hell, stream go into the toilet.  In fact, there have been several times where he hasn’t been quick enough or is off in LaLa land and she’s put her hand IN his urine stream.  She giggles. He does not.

So she’s sizing me up and wants to ‘see’ what I’m going. She actually is trying to pry my legs apart. “No” is not a deterrent, it’s simply a tactic changer for her and she barely misses a beat.  She sidles to the side of the toilet and touches my bum with her cold fingers. When I don’t react (inside I’m TOTALLY SCREAMING!), she tries to shut the toilet lid on my back. Now, pardon me but EEEEUUUUWWW!!!  Gross! Do you know what crap, LITERALLY, is on the inside of a toilet lid?! I DO and I’m beyond yucked out by it!

While I try not to flinch, I am holding my breath waiting for the next onslaught. I don’t have to wait long. “Poop? Poooop?”  Truly, it’s only the sweetest, clearest, purest voice that can make the word ‘poop?’ sound like the finest crafted bell, but she does it.  Every time she utters, ‘pooOOOP?’ whether it’s to me, her doll or her favorite stuffed animal (of the week), I smile.

And I was going to be one of those parents who never taught her child that word. I hate that word. I wanted to teach her ‘ish’ as it was called in my family but my husband busted a gut laughing every time I used it. So the somehow more humane ‘ish’ is replaced by the baser ‘poop’ in our house.  Now, in my defense, I try to say ‘pooH’ but really, potatO/pOtato.

It’s about this time she hands me 17 feet of toilet paper. I take the toilet paper and say, ‘thank you honey’. That seems to appease her and she briefly looks the other way. I think, “OMG! It’s my opportunity! HURRY!!! Do it NOW!” Not to go potty, no my friends…that ship has sailed, but to pull up my pants AND shut the toilet lid.  I’m never quick enough. Oh dear Lord, I’m never quick enough. The little stinker just knows. The slightest forward movement from me has her quickly returning to the toilet (but it’s not like she was really away from it, either).

“POOOOP? POOOOP?!!” she excitedly says while she gazes into the nearly empty toilet bowl. “I-yucky’ she’ll say even if there is nothing in the bowl. Sorry to disappoint you lil’ missy, but momma can’t do her business if she’s permanently kegeling.

If her attempt to touch the used toilet paper fails (and it does, I’m SO on to her, but GADS she is FAST), she’ll slam the toilet lid down and attempt to flush the toilet (“momma do it”).  Once flushed (“momma did it”), she’ll lift up the entire toilet seat, peer inside, say, ‘i-yucky’ and let the seat slam shut once more.

I digress. As any parent knows, it’s easy to get caught up talking about pooh. Right?! So let me continue with the rest of my story. After feeling jubilant by my success at using the toidy without a child glommed on to my side, I decided to tempt fate (suckaahhh!) and try a shower. I no sooner entered the warm shower when I hear the pitter patter of little feet and, “Yo go? “Yo GO?”  I, behind the shower curtain sweetly say, “Yes, honey. You can have some yogurt. Wait for mommy to get out of the shower.” What a colossal waste of my breath. In addition, I barely started this sentence when the shower curtain (liner and all) is whipped back exposing me to a blast of cold air. The sleepy, big blue eyed blond with morning Nick Nolte (think mug shot) hair smiles at me. Sigh. Time for a power shower.  

In the 68 seconds it took me to shower, she had removed all the contents from the bathroom cupboards, including a newly opened box of 500 Q-tips (!!!!) and scattered them around the bathroom floor. She unwound the toilet paper, checked the toilet for ‘i-yuckies’ and had put on my um, well an article of clothing that is often stolen in college dorm raids.  Get it?

I tried to do my ‘after shower’ routine which includes, but is not limited to, putting on lotion, deodorant, brushing my teeth and combing my hair. Lavish, I know. Today I was going for broke by trying to squirt some toner on a cotton ball and applying it to my face. Sadly though, by this time she is squealing in delight and pointing at my naked bum. Oh boy. She’s saying, “Poop? Poop?”  Yes, honey, that’s where we go potty. More squeals followed by a pointed finger that gets a little bit too close to my hiney for this mommy’s liking.  Meanwhile, she’s smiling and giddily prancing around like she’s a pretty, pretty pony.

But the fun doesn’t stop there.  Now it’s time for a ‘girl’ show. She is fascinated with my little B-Cups (I was going to type “A-Cups” but why not embellish a little. It’s MY blog!). She squeals, claps her hands and points at them as well.  What’s a mom to do? I mean SERIOUSLY!

I’ve learned from past, um, educational explorations, not to let her get anywhere close to my girls as she likes to pinch and pull certain parts that don’t LIKE to be pinched or pulled. Today is no different. Visions of the abuse my girls suffered while I was breast feeding still haunt me. I turn away and put on another part of my delicate unmentionables that she likes to wear as proudly as Madonna (the singer, not the Virgin) did with her metal cone bra.

And thusly, this is my morning and I haven’t even left the bedroom. What surprises await for me today?  I suppose it’ll be more of my daughter excitedly wanting to look at the contents of her soiled diaper. Maybe she’ll pull at the waist band of my pants and exclaim, “Poop? Poop mommy?”  Maybe she’ll even try to give me the child’s version of a titty twister.

One thing is for sure; these scenarios will play out again and again and when it stops, when she outgrows it, I’m going to miss it. 

Predator

neonpsychic“You’ve got some bad past life energy around you and you need to get rid of it or you’re not going to find love. I have some (insert: bath salts, oils, crystals, candles, etc.) that can help. You need to purchase this. It’s $1,000 and I take credit cards. If you don’t buy it today, the price goes up” said a local, transplanted psychic to me.

I knew the second I walked into her office that I shouldn’t be there. I knew it.  It felt wrong. It felt slimy somehow. Maybe it was my emerging spidey sense that set me off; maybe it was because she ate her (smelly) fast food hamburger and fries during my session. Maybe it was because she raised the price of the tarot reading when she discovered I was interested in learning about love. Or maybe it was because she put an egg timer – a TICKING egg timer – on her desk. Whatever it was, I was put off by her conduct and attitude. It wasn’t friendly or welcoming; it was cold and aloof.

“Uhhhhh” I stammered, as my eyes opened wider, “I, I don’t have that kind of money.” She replied, “Your choice, but you won’t get rid of this energy without it” thus playing into my fear that I wouldn’t find love (without her help, that is).  I left without purchasing whatever product she was selling but I had allowed her word arrow to hit its mark; I believed I wouldn’t find love even though, on some level, I knew better.

While I no longer believed a certain ‘energy infused’ candle, bath salt, etc., was the key to my happiness nor would it remove negative energy, I was still bothered by what was said. I turned to the only person I trusted with stuff like this; Susie.

Susie, with her gentle, calming, loving voice that was full of compassion said, “Oh honey. No. Please don’t buy into any of that. You WILL find love. There is no potion you need to drink or any type of elixir you need to buy. You’re fine. Just keep believing, trusting and walking your path.”

I felt, even back then when I was just beginning to be cognitively aware of my spiritual journey, the difference in their energy. One dealt in fear, the other in compassion. But, as with all things that change one’s life, that encounter helped shape how I would relate to my future clients.

Prior to this experience and prior to me finding Susie, I had gone to another local, but transplanted psychic. I had been seeing her for about a year when she suggested I buy a crystal she had found especially for me. She said how she knew saving money was important to me but that this crystal would help with so much. I had built a relationship with her, or so I thought, and did what she suggested. I paid, gulp, an embarrassingly large amount of money for a crystal that was probably worth $20. All because I believed in her and believed in what she was telling me.

My gut was telling me not to buy the nauseatingly expensive crystal, but I trusted this psychic and thought she had my best interests in mind. At the time I was in a lot of emotional pain and was reaching, blindly, for any port in the storm. Sadly, she was reaching for her pocket book.

In the following months, she suggested I spend $1000 on two white tapered candles that she had meditated over and infused with psychic healing energy. That’s where I drew the line even though she was saying all the right things. The ridiculously priced crystal was supposed to be the end all of end all so why would I need candles?  When I asked that exact question, her eyes widened and she said, “Oh! The crystal will take care of everything but these candles are in addition. They are issue specific.” That’s when our ‘relationship’ ended.  I felt betrayed and worse, I felt like a fool.

As with any profession, or in nature itself for that matter, there are predators. Some are obvious, like the psychic I described in the beginning of this story and some are not so obvious or even insidious, if you will, like the last one I described.  I can’t blame a person for trying to make a buck but I have a real problem with others using intuitive gifts to exploit people’s vulnerabilities/dreams/wishes/desires. I have a HUGE ethical and moral problem with that.

People who seek the wisdom/services of psychics or intuitives are usually searching for answers and may be in deep emotional pain; they are often very vulnerable. They may easily trust in those that seem to have accurate information they (psychics) have no reasonable or comprehensive way of knowing.

How do you know if your psychic or intuitive is ethical, morally responsible and/or has integrity? One way might be to see if they use fear or manipulation to motivate you into buying services or products. Are they pushy? Do they say, “If you don’t return for x number of visits, the bad karma won’t be lifted” or “If you don’t buy this, your problems will continue.”  If so, the proverbial shoe may fit.

But it wasn’t all a head slap moment for me. I came to realize it wasn’t the crystal that helped me; it was believing the crystal would help. That belief changed my thought pattern and helped attract a different, lighter energy. Geez though, talk about an expensive placebo or in my case, an expensive paper weight!