The Inconvenient Truth Behind My Sugar Addiction

Hi, my name is Heather and I am addicted to sugar. Not just any kind of sugar; sugar in the form of any type of chocolate. Except Hershey's. That shit tastes like plastic to me. But give me Snickers, brownies, Lindt truffles, homemade chocolate chip cookies, and chocolate raspberry cake and I'll be happy. Temporarily, anyway.

At the height of my addiction, I was having something sweet after every meal. Yes, even after breakfast. Sometimes it was my breakfast. I also had sugary sweetness in between meals as my snacks. And during the holidays? Hell, double that. The scary thing is, I was able to justify it all with the fact that I eat relatively healthy (lots of greens and veggies), I don't care about alcohol or weed, and I've never done any hard drugs, nor do I want to. But sugar? Why the hell not? It's socially acceptable and hidden in foods you'd never think to put it in. And to put the cherry on top, you won't ever kill anyone from gorging and driving.

While I may not kill anyone else, though, I can sure as day kill myself. One day, I noticed my joints were beginning to feel really inflamed, which didn't make any sense to me since I'd been practicing yoga religiously for about three months. Other issues then started surfacing so I decided to Google my symptoms. Want to know what I found? I was on the road to early on-set diabetes, arthritis, and I definitely had full fledged candidiasis. Wonderful. I was slowly but surely sabotaging my youthful health. While I do know that the internet can sometimes blow things out of proportion, it scared me nevertheless and I knew something seriously had to change.

I've done a lot of work into understanding this addiction, and over the years I've discovered many of the reasons why I choose to numb out with sugar. My relationship with this substance started at a very young age: I grew up with chocolate constantly lying around the house, made easier by the fact that my grandma on my dad's side owned a chocolate shop up in Rexburg, Idaho. This meant unlimited access to free goodies, especially on each major holiday, which all of us always looked forward to.

[Side note: seriously though, they are the best damn chocolates I have ever had the pleasure of tasting. They are all hand-dipped and ten times better than See's, in my opinion--and I love See's. If you want to try them for yourself or give a delicious gift to your loved ones for the holidays, check them out here]

Aside from simply having it around, I often times had to sneak it, seeing as I'd get in trouble with my parents by being too much of a pig. Countless nights I would stay awake until everyone else was asleep, quietly slink down the top bunk, and claw my way through the dessert drawer, careful not to make any noise. It became habitual, and something I could claim all to myself. It felt like a triumph to get away with eating the last of the mouth-watering Reisens without anyone knowing or calling me out on it.

Once I developed into my later teenage years and started becoming more spiritual, the deeper and more emotional reasons began making themselves more clear to me. Back then, I hated myself, never felt like I fit in, and was wildly insecure, so I used sugar to avoid feeling or thinking about my pain. It was an escape, a temporary high to make me forget my problems. But they would always come back, and I'd start all over again to try and fill the gaping holes inside of me.

I've come a long way since I first began my journey to wholeness, but I've not yet been truly able to let go of my attachments to this affliction. After a short ebb, it has once again reared it's ugly head in full flow, and I'm now left with two choices: truly get to the bottom of why I have cravings and stop eating so much of it, or continue the way I've been going and end up fat, sick, and nearly dead--hah.

Naturally, I've chosen to make it my focus to heal this part of my psyche, even though mostly out of necessity. This choice led me to ask for help: help with better understanding myself, help with letting go and surrendering whatever it is that keeps me in this vicious cycle, help with being gentler with myself when I slip up and binge, and help with accepting myself exactly as I am, right now.

Like it always does, the Universe beautifully provides exactly what I need, in it's own divinely timed fashion. This past week, I had a conversation with a friend who has battled an alcohol and drug addiction, and has been through years of AA and soul searching in order to get back to a healthy, balanced lifestyle. She had so many amazing nuggets to share, and though she was speaking of her own experience with a different substance, her words struck me profoundly and shed a much needed light on my own. I was finally able to make a connection between my greatest fear and my greatest frustration.

She helped me realize that I abuse sugar when I feel two things in particular: when I feel unworthy, and when I feel fear. Not just any kind of fear; fear regarding opening myself up to be vulnerable with a man, fear regarding loving and being loved, fear of being hurt the same way I was in my past, fear of being seen for all of my beauty and all of my flaws, and the fear of eventually losing that love and not being enough. The thought of falling deeply in love with someone scares me more than anything else in this world. I can no longer deny (with additional help from the signs my body has given me) that I am absolutely, positively terrified...more than I was willing to admit to myself before that fateful chat.

Uncovering this fear led to the realization that I harshly judge the men I'm attracted to, finding every possible thing I can wrong so that I write off all possibility of dating them. It keeps me safe: if I judge them first, they can't get close enough to hurt me or leave me. I also noticed that I judge other people's relationships, only paying attention to the dysfunctions they appear to have and wondering why on Earth they stay together. The problem with this way of looking at it (other than being a plain ol' dick), is that it feeds into my own dysfunctional belief that I have to be perfect in order to be loved, and that I must hold a man to an unreasonable and impossible standard of perfection to match my own. I will never be perfect, and I can't expect my future man to be, either.

I sometimes get caught in the trap of thinking that I've overcome all of my issues, never to have to deal with them again. But life is wise and usually tends to find a way to bring me to my knees when my ego gets the best of me. I am reminded (not always so gracefully) that I am never completely done, but that at the very least it will never be quite as intense as it was the last go round. With each cycle, I become stronger and cultivate better tools to deal with the demons that resurface, but that's it.

I'm done lying to myself. I'll never have everything figured out, and I might not ever be completely rid of my core triggers. All I can ask of myself is an acute awareness of when they show up, and the softness to love away each new layer. My friend graced me with two incredible gifts; the gift of understanding myself more profoundly, and the gift of a new perspective on life: progress, not perfection.

Right now, my addiction is real, but so is my ability to surrender and choose something else. I'm taking it one day at a time. I don't know what tomorrow will hold, but today, I choose freedom.

                                                        Photo credit: Beloved Festival

Broken & Beautiful

Relationships and people of all kinds and depths can sometimes be really, really difficult (which is putting it mildly), because they can show you without a whole lot of grace, where you need to grow and do some serious soul searching.

I will begin by prefacing this to the best of my abilities, by admitting that I have always, always wanted to present myself to the world as someone who has it all together...as someone who is constantly grounded and at peace with themselves, as someone whose confidence never waivers, as someone who knows everything and has all the answers for every situation that arises, whether it's mine or someone else's, and especially as someone who isn't broken in any way, shape, or form. So much of my suffering in this life has come from this overwhelming need to keep myself "safe" and appear perfect in the eyes of others at all costs.

A beautiful angel in human form recently came into my life to help wake me up from the illusion of perfection I've tried so hard all my life to maintain with a resounding, painful slap to the face. After the shock of said slap, nauseating anger welled up inside of my belly like molten lava, about ready to erupt and cause irreparable damage to everyone and every thing in its path. I hadn't felt anger like this since I was a teenager, which angered me even further because I thought I had surpassed all of it. I was angry for many reasons; for being reminded of childhood hurts, for feeling underestimated and patronized, but most of all, I was angry for being seen for who I actually was instead of who I wanted to project, and this person triggered one of my deepest and most powerful insecurities--the belief that I am not good enough.

Then came the shame, because I realized that I have participated in this type of dynamic for my entire life, all the while being blind and unable to understand why none of the boys I liked ever liked me back. Until now, I had always blamed it on the other person for not seeing my greatness, but this whole time it has been me not seeing or believing my own. I can now see with painful clarity how this one deep-seeded belief has shaped my entire world...all the not-so-graceful experiences and how I reacted to them. Because of this belief, I have tried over and over again with embarrassing desperation to prove my worth and "lovability" to absolutely no avail. On the flip side, because of this belief I have used my body as a way to gain a twisted sense of power over people who were attracted to me and not vice versa. I said yes to people I wanted and needed to say no to, all because it was enough to feel like someone wanted me. Now I know it was only just one more way of trying to prove my worth to myself and the world. "See guys?? Someone wants me...I AM lovable!" Sigh.

There's been lots of breaking happening in my life these days; an angel in England broke my heart open, and now another angel has seen right through my walls and broken them down from the outside in, so that I may begin to heal myself from the inside out. The truth is, there are parts of me that are undeniably broken. My room is often in a state of chaos, I use sugar to mask my emotional pain, I sometimes try too hard and search for outside validation to make myself feel better. I often procrastinate and ignore my soul's urges to express itself through art in any of its forms, I sometimes smudge the truth of how I feel in the presence of others, I greatly fear intimacy and vulnerability, and I just flat out have daddy issues. I'm so tired; tired of being angry, tired of blaming others, tired of feeling the need to shove all of my accomplishments and positive attributes in people's faces, tired of feeling unlovable, and above all, I'm tired of using so much precious energy to maintain a facade that is inauthentic in order to avoid the pain of someone judging my brokenness. I surrender...I don't want this anymore,

After ruminating over this for a while and finally having acknowledged and accepted the darkest parts of myself, ironically I feel just a little less broken...that maybe there is a certain beauty and strength in admitting my deepest fears out loud where everyone can see and hear them. I feel much more grounded in my authentic self now that I know I don't have to try so damn hard and have started to let go of my walls and all the pain that made me put them there. I feel naked and bare and raw and scared, but I know that this feels right. My work is far from being done, but this little bud is beginning to bloom and shine a little bit brighter.

I don't always have it all together and I don't always feel grounded or at peace, and I sometimes doubt myself and the extent of my true capabilities. But here's to daring to believe that I am enough, exactly as I am...broken and beautiful.

Usually the words inspire the art, but this time the art inspired the words. 

Mixed media, November 2014

The Consequences of Having an Open Heart

Every single one of us on this beautiful Earth of ours goes through painful experiences, whether it's pain caused by family, friends, a boyfriend or girlfriend, bullies, or a mixture of all of these and more, no one escapes this life unscathed. As a result, most of us learn to start guarding our hearts and to withdraw by either isolating ourselves or lashing out, finding any way possible to dull the pain and prevent it from ever hurting to the same degree it did the first time.

As I grew up, I did a bit (ok...a lot) of both. I became very withdrawn emotionally, never letting anyone get too close, and I lashed out at the very people I should have been seeking comfort from. I continued to isolate myself by concealing my pain with lying, stealing, cheating on my tests at school (and getting caught), forging my parent's signatures, overeating, and making myself very unpopular by having absolutely no tact when speaking to others. This is how I chose to guard my heart as a young girl. Instead of letting life open me up to the world, I shrunk down and hid in fear of further pain.  

As I became older, I started attracting people, things and experiences that slowly but surely started helping me see things from a different perspective…that maybe the way I’d been doing things was causing myself and others more harm than good. One day I came across one of the most beautiful quotes I have ever read, by way of a simple yet gorgeous painting done my by stepmother. It read:

“And the day came when the pain of remaining tight in a bud was greater than the risk it took to open.” –Anais Nin. 

This quote shook me to my very core and I resonated with its meaning in such a profound way, that it has remained in the forefront of my mind ever since I first lay eyes on it. It was one of the catalysts that made me realize that I was in more pain by cutting myself off from the world around me and staying safe than I was by adventuring out into it with open arms.

Although this quote (among other beautiful pieces of writing) inspired me to become more open, the change wasn’t about to happen overnight. I started branching out as best I knew how to other people by way of school activities, youth groups, being on sports teams...and then onto studying abroad and traveling to places I’d only ever read about, meeting people from various parts of the world and learning a new language, and eventually falling in love with a different country than the one I grew up in. All of this helped me slowly start to trust that not everything would go to hell if I had a genuine feeling or two.  

This year, however, has been a milestone year for me in the sense that I’ve consistently attracted people and experiences that have pushed me far beyond the comfort zones I’ve surrounded myself with since I was a little girl. I’ve been forced to grow, change, and bare my soul to others in ways that I never thought I would, and to become more comfortable with the uncomfortable. While I’ve had a lot of practice this year and have improved tremendously, I still have a long way to go. I do feel, though, that I made some impressive progress this past week while visiting a friend in England.

Before leaving for this beautiful place, I was in huge resistance for reasons I will refrain from mentioning, but no matter what was going on on the surface of this resistance, I think deep down my ego subconsciously knew that something major was about to happen. When I arrived in the very lush, green, southwest part of England, the resistance had faded away, and what awaited me was a group of some of the most amazing individuals I have yet come across in this lifetime.

I don’t quite understand what happened on an intellectual level or why it happened when it did, but all I know is that this group of people cracked my heart wide open and nestled themselves snugly into the very depths of the chasm they unknowingly created. I explored and reveled in these connections with an openness unparalleled to anything I’ve ever let myself experience, and I felt with an intensity I never thought possible. I laughed and cried and listened and shared and laughed some more. I was incomprehensibly open, open to feel every single emotion that went through me: surprise, happiness, lust, love, joy, gratitude, twinges of jealousy, judgment, confusion, awe, fear, embarrassment, upset, attachment, discomfort, and intrigue…And I let myself feel without needing to feel anything other than what I was feeling in that moment. I almost didn’t recognize myself, and it still feels a bit surreal to have watched myself fall in love with these people without more than a second’s notice.

And then I left them, as is custom when you are only visiting, and it wasn’t until I made my departure that I realized how much of myself I had left behind with them…that I left a piece of my heart with every single one of those gorgeous people, and for the first time in a really long time, my heart broke. And the thing about heartbreak is that it hurts like a bitch. These things called tears trickled down my cheeks at random times throughout the day as I thought about how much I already missed them, and for a short time I was angry for allowing myself to become so attached.

This…this is what I realized I have always been afraid of, and why I have continually kept most people at an arm’s distance. I’ve been terrified of making extremely meaningful connections and falling in love with someone, only to then feel their absence so profoundly when you or the other person leaves (either by force or by choice). It is incredibly scary to give your heart to someone and surrender a life of comfort, not knowing whether or not it will last, because it makes you vulnerable and incredibly susceptible to copious amounts of pain and heartbreak. Until now, I didn’t think I would be able to handle it…but that’s part of what makes this so important; I learned that I can feel both joy and pain deeply and still come out alive, if not more so, on the other side. I learned that while I’ve always resented the fact that I’ve attracted emotionally unavailable men, it’s me who’s been emotionally unavailable this whole entire time.

So here’s the most important thing I learned in England this time around, in a nutshell: there are consequences to living life with an open heart, and those consequences hurt…big time. But here’s the clincher—it’s worth it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. If I would have kept my heart twice as guarded to avoid the pain, I would have felt half the joy, half the passion, and half the happiness, and what’s the fun in that? Now that I’ve experienced life like this, I can never truly go back to being as guarded and hesitant as I once was…it just wouldn’t be good enough. I want to fully embrace everything this life has to offer…the good and the bad, the ups and the downs, the triumphs and the losses. I want to give the world my whole heart and soul, even when it doesn’t make any sense, and risk looking like a fool for love. I want to be able to look back when I'm old and grey and take solace in knowing that I truly lived. I know now that my heart is strong enough to brave the calm and the storms of this life.

The day has come; I no longer want to remain tight in a bud.

Alone & ...Happy?

I've believed for a while now that true happiness is cultivated from the foundation of being able to be completely alone and truly like the company you keep in the empty moments. While I've always thought this to be logical and true on an intellectual level, I was recently forced to put this belief to the test when my family went on a ten-day road trip, leaving me by myself to tend to all the responsibilities of running a household. Not only did they leave me with all the chores, they also left me to meet myself for in essence, the first time.

Before they left, I was flying high. I thought to myself, I'll be fine..I've traveled alone, explored different countries, lived with complete strangers, this will be great! But then the day of their departure came and a flood of fear washed into my stomach, especially after the realization that I had never actually been on my own for longer than three or four days. With this in tow, ten days seemed like an eternity. I knew I was going to spend a LOT of time watering our jungle-like garden and taking care of the family chickens (and little Meesha), but aside from working night shifts, I was freaking out about how to fill in the cracks when the responsibilities weren't consuming my focus. I've always thought of myself as a highly independent person, so these fears completely blindsided me.

For the first three days, I have to admit that I was a little bit miserable. I blasted music throughout the house to drown out the silence, spent as much time at work as possible without seeming completely needy, and watched movies in my down time. I tried my best to invite friends over to fill the void of my family being gone, but only one plan followed through, so ultimately I was forced to face my days alone. I did essentially everything possible to distract myself, and I felt so pathetic. I've always liked my space and alone time...why did this feel so different? What was I trying so hard not to look at?

After day four, my fears began to subside and I started enjoying the fact that I had the whole house to myself. By day six, I was on cloud nine. I stopped blasting music, chose to stay away from the computer most of the time, and happily came home after work to an empty house. I felt like I could finally be completely present and tap into the spirit of the experience. By day eight I was looking up and interviewing for apartments/rooms for rent in Pasadena, and getting excited about the idea of moving out to expand on these new found feelings of control and freedom. By day ten, I was bummed that I didn't have more time to hang out by myself, but also happy that I could share everything that had happened with my family.

I don't really know what changed between day three and day four, but all I know is that I came face to face with myself and I liked what I saw in the reflection. I learned so much about myself and how I function when I'm on my own, and I have so much respect for that person. I developed a humorous relationship with myself and the Universe, and as a result, I feel like those relationships became more profound.

Some of my favorite memories during those ten days were singing at the top of my lungs and laughing like a maniac whenever my voice broke or I hit a wrong note, and dancing like a dork in front of the mirror with my skivvies on only to erupt in boisterous laughter at how ridiculous I was making myself look. I loved finding out that I can crack myself up even if there isn't anyone else around to laugh with me (or at me ;) ), and that I can shake my head and snicker when the Universe decides to throw me a curve ball. I became hyper-responsible with my duties around the house, and it permeated into the other areas of my life as well. I got out of bed at 7am or earlier (a normally very rare occurrence) every morning to feed the chickens and the pup, water the garden, keep track of Mom's bills, cook myself healthy vegan meals, do my homework for the TEFL course, exercise, write in my journal, meditate, and get ahead of things. I could not believe how focused I could be if I really set my mind to it, even though this time around it was mostly out of necessity.

Life flowed during those ten days, and it continues to flow easily even now because I've tasted how freedom feels and the flavor hasn't yet faded. Those mere ten days have prepared me to fly the coop and see how well my newbie wings can handle the blustery winds change can sometimes bring. Am I scared and nervous to finally move out and live pretty much on my own? Absolutely. But I know this is something I have (and want) to do for the person I'm meant to become.

I realize in hindsight that I wasn't just taking care of the house, but that I was also cultivating a home inside of myself. For the first time in my life, I feel at home in my own body, in my own being. Home isn't just where my family is, or just in Italy; it's wherever I go. I know now in the deepest part of my soul that in order to be truly present and unconditionally loving with others, I have to be present and unconditionally loving with myself first.

And just like that, happiness alighted itself softly onto my shoulders like a butterfly and revealed it's incomprehensible beauty in the still, still silence.

Out of the Closet

There has been a lot going on lately regarding gay rights and the resistance that's come along with deciding whether or not it should be allowed (again). After what happened with Chik-Fil-A, I was inspired to write about gay rights in general, seeing as I've never written about it for fear of being thought gay myself by others...but then I realized that what others think of me is really none of my business.

Before I dive in, however, I want to make a disclaimer. By writing this blog, I am only stating my own truth and sharing what my personal beliefs are. My intention is not to bash anyone else's or make them wrong or bad. I am here to express myself creatively from a place of love. If you agree with me, that's great; if not, that's okay too--we all have a right to our own thoughts and feelings.

Now that that's been said, I will begin. This topic hits close to home, and when I say close, I mean an asteroid just blew up our house. As most of my peers from high school and beyond know, my mom is lesbian. Yes boys and girls, she likes women. She has been with her partner since I was three years old, so the gay issue has been an ongoing steady presence in my life. In the beginning, it was normal to me and felt completely normal, other than the fact that my father was heartbroken, angry and uptight whenever we (my sisters and I) mentioned the two of them. In my inner world, I couldn't see a problem because I loved them both, and I didn't have the capacity at that time to fully understand the situation.

The first problems I remember encountering in my external world started happening from 6th grade on. Certain people from school started making lude comments about my mom being gay, and that's when  shame welcomed itself into my conscious emotions, and made me feel like who my mom was, was wrong. I thought I had been secretive and selective of who I told along the way, but when 8th grade came around and a popular girl caught wind of this, it spread like wildfire. This shame and anger made me say and do things that I was not proud of to the people that made fun of my mom and of me. Some of those actions made me really unpopular with my peers, and I understand why. I was really mean and lashed out, all because I was scared of people thinking that I was the same way and liked girls.

It wasn't until junior and senior year of high school that my inner world started to calm down around the issue. Once I was fully capable of understanding what was going on and feeling a little more comfortable in my own skin, I accepted my mom and her partner for who they were, individually and as a couple. I knew deep down that just because my mom loved a woman didn't mean that I was the same way. Ironically, the minute I became comfortable with the idea, external comments started to fade, because I didn't give them any emotional power. It also helped that my sisters were there the last two years of my high school career; I didn't have to brave it completely alone :)

Needless to say, my journey to acceptance of this issue wasn't an easy one, even when my own mother was part of it, so I understand that not everyone will have or has had an easy time with it. Nowadays, if anyone asks what my family life is like, I'll tell them; I don't have any more qualms regarding my mother's sexual orientation. And as a side note, I'm proud to say that my mom and her partner are still together after 18 years, and are better than ever :) I think that's more than most hetero marriages can account for...just a guess.

When the whole drama with Chik-Fil-A first came out (no pun intended), I have to admit: I was really angry...angrier than I've been with most other anti-gay campaigns. I've never given too much emotional thought to the battle of gay rights in the past, since both of my moms never really gave a hoot about all the hooyah. But I guess this particular campaign caught me at a weak moment, because I was MAD. I thought, seriously? Thousands of people are buying greasy, fatty foods to support this anti-gay company (or rather, the CEO who is anti-gay marriage)?! It just didn't make any sense to me, and I was especially offended by "friends" on Facebook, posting statuses such as, "isn't their leadership great?", blah blah blah. This lead to making feisty comments and loud posts stating my beliefs (which I hardly ever do), which brought me to some intense self-reflection and deep thought. If I had never been this wound up over things of this manner, why was this time different?

I started thinking in terms of the world, not limited to gay rights, because throughout our whole history, we've had uprisings and suppressors of every kind: battle with women's rights and chauvinistic males, abolishment of slavery and slave holders, battle with black rights (after they were no longer slaves on a wide scale) against whites, and now we have moved on to gay rights against religious leaders and politicians. The thing that made my anger fizzle out was the realization that every single one of these battles was won at some point: women received rights, slavery was abolished, blacks eventually ceased to be segregated, and I'm confident that gay's right to marriage will no longer be an issue in the near future.

What each of these groups in the past were doing, was fighting for freedom and the chance to live like they wanted to live without being told what they could and couldn't do, where they could or couldn't go, or who they could or couldn't be. And the worst part is, hate is learned. We are not born hating others, we are taught to do so by our families, our peers, our leaders, etc. to hate certain things, groups of people, and ideas through stereotypes, personal experience, and fear. The best part is, because we learn it, we can also un-learn it.

I heard someone say once that one of the reasons they promote hating certain groups (like gays), is because hate brings people together. While that is obviously true on some level (I mean, just look at how many people went to buy some chicken), the part that bothers me is that people are being "brought together" at the expense of another; someone has to be left out in order for this to happen. Love, on the other hand, leaves out no one. Love is the only force that truly brings people together of every gender, race, sexual orientation, and class.

I get it; it's a lot easier to hate than it is to love for most people, because when you're hating, you're not paying attention to how you're really feeling, which is probably scared, hurt, confused, jealous, or something close to it. Have I hated on certain people and groups before? Yes. I'm not perfect. But what I realized is that whatever or whoever I was hating on only reflected my own fears, insecurities and anger (which all go hand in hand, by the way). We are all human and trying to find our way through this world as best as we know how.

At the end of the day, I don't really believe it's about gay marriage, women vs. men or black vs. white. I believe those are all just surface issues, concealing the core issue of humanity. I believe the core issue we all face is deciding how to live our lives in the most true, authentic way, where we are following our passions, and knowing that that is enough; that WE are enough, exactly the way we are. I have found that when I am happy and living my life the way I want to, I don't have the time nor desire to hate anybody or make people's choices in life my business. It's only when I feel trapped or stuck or inferior that I turn to that stuff to try and make my ego feel better, even though it doesn't really work in the long run.

Having a gay mom has had it's ups and downs, just like every family has, but I appreciate what life lessons it's taught me. Instead of screwing up my life and making me gay, contrary to popular belief, it has made me more accepting and open-minded to those different from myself. I strive to be more accepting every day, especially of myself. I don't always agree with everybody or approve of what they do, but it's THEIR life to live, not mine; their life is none of my business and doesn't affect me unless I let it.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to live more and more in love, and less and less in fear. I want to live more as my authentic self on my own unique life path, and let others do the same, wherever they are on theirs. I choose freedom, and all responsibility that comes with it.

The beauty of humanity is this: the human spirit cannot be suppressed forever. Control and hate may be powerful for a while, but it never wins in the end. Humans will always fight to be free, and free they will be.

Breaking Point

Sometimes, in the quiet moments of the days that pass by, I think about how surreal my life is. I ask myself, is this it? Is this really my life? When I look back on everything I've been through and done, it somehow doesn't feel real. It's almost as if I've been watching myself play out a character in a movie, completely detached.

This feeling all seemed to start when, back in January, I decided to stay home for the summer, instead of going back to Italy to work for the family I lived with last year. This was a monumentally life-changing decision, one that I still don't fully understand, but for some reason it felt like the right thing to do. Just because it feels right in my heart, however, doesn't mean that it was an easy choice, and in fact it is still hard knowing that I let someone else take my place. I grew unbelievably attached to the family, the atmosphere, the language, and everything  else about Italy, essentially, and I feel like it's now slowly slipping away.

I realize now that I attached my whole sense of self to this beautiful place, without having established a foundation to build on here in the states. And although it is, without a doubt in my mind, my ultimate dream to live there one day, fully immersed in all that is Italy, I was using it in part, as an escape from the issues I was afraid to face here. When I ripped Italy away from myself, all that remained were those issues, right where I left them, waiting for some serious confrontation.

So here I am, starting over. Who am I without the "ciao bella's" and the "buongiorno's" and the "ma che dici's!?" and of course, the infamous cappuccini? What is Heather made of when she's not getting herself to Italy, being in Italy, or coming home from Italy, only to then repeat the cycle? Who is she when the one dream she's ever been sure of has seemingly been stripped away?

The hardest and most surreal part about all of this is that, what I have discovered so far, I don't necessarily like. I don't like who I am without Italy: I'm lazy, lacking in integrity, confused, unfocused, and filled with doubt. Why was it so easy for me to trust the process of life when it was for Italy, but when it's for myself, I doubt and fear at every turn? I hardly recognize the person I've become in the past few months.

People always say that sometimes it has to get worse before it gets better, and that has definitely rung true for me throughout this process. At some point, though, it either: a) literally can't get any worse, or b) you reach the breaking point, where you absolutely cannot continue they way you've been going (unless you want your life to become even more complicated), whether this is due to external circumstances, ones solely internal, or a combination of both.

My breaking point happened about a week ago, when all of the consequences of my actions (or lack thereof) smacked me in the face, hard as a brick. In that moment, I had one of two choices: 1) continue on a downward spiral, or 2) face my fears and change. There was really only one choice for me, and after making the decision to change, things quickly started to shift. The other day, my moment of freedom arrived on a silver platter, perfectly assembled for my mental and emotional health, during a business meeting. While one of the team leaders was speaking to us, a small, quiet voice inside my head, randomly said: it's okay, you can be happy here.

An intense feeling of relief washed over me, because now I could recognize part of why I've been holding myself back for the past few months. I was afraid that if I was happy here, or anywhere else besides Italy for that matter, I would be "giving up" on my dream, or being disloyal. I feared that it would become less and less important to me as my happiness grew elsewhere, and I was too attached to the way Italy made me feel: happy, light, care-free, positive, and courageous--feelings that I've never yet truly allowed myself to experience here in the States. And then I realized how silly this fear was. Why would I limit myself to being happy in only one place? Since at this point I don't know when I'll return to my beloved country, why would I want to spend years and years of my life unhappy, just because I'm living on the "wrong" continent? It doesn't make any sense.

As much as I love Italy and feel at home within it's borders, I need to fall in love with life even within the confines of California, within the confines of the little city I reside in. I want to fall in love with life wherever I am in the world and create a solid foundation from which to build--no dream can be made real on shaky ground. So, here is to discovering who I am and what I'm made of, with no attachments to anything or anyone; stripped down to the very core of my existence, naked to the world.

Living in Peace

Lately I've been having more and more conversations that involve issues going on in our world today and differing views on whether or not we can ever live in a peaceful world. While many parts of these conversations have been extremely frustrating and mind-boggling to me, I am so happy that I'm having them because they are helping to refine my own beliefs about the world. There is one person in particular that has been essential to this refinement, and while almost all of his views are incredibly right-wing (pro-war, pro-nuclear bombs, no one can touch America, etc.), he has really pushed me past my own comfort zones and helped me to become much more convicted in my own beliefs.

One of the biggest topics we've been discussing is world peace, and whether or not it's truly possible. Let me start off by saying that I absolutely believe it to be, without any doubt in my mind. Now, the thing about world peace is that it's received a bit of a bad reputation. I mean, what do you think of when you hear the words, world and peace in the same sentence? Exactly...all of those pageant girls in the movies saying they want "long walks on the beach, happiness, oh...and world peace," just because it sounds good and gives them a better chance of winning over the judges with a "heartfelt" response. The movie industry (as well as other media sources) has done a fantastic job of making the concept of world peace seem like a dreamy, overly feminine joke. The contestants might as well have said that they want a world filled with fluffy bunnies, rainbows, and bubbles to break with their fingertips. At least this one might seem more believable.

One of the objections my friend had against world peace was that there are some people who truly like hurting others and don't have any feelings of guilt after an act of hate. At first, I was troubled because I didn't know how to dispute this. After a short period of silence and only a scoff and wrinkled brow to show my disagreement, my friend proposed me with this question to help clarify his point:
"What is one of your hobbies?" he asked.
"Painting," I replied.
"Why do you like to paint?"
I smile with enlightenment because I know what he's getting at, and at this point he closes his side of the argument by saying that there are some people in this world that just like to kill or cause injury as one of their hobbies. Just as where my creativity comes from cannot be explained, where someone's instinct to kill also cannot be explained. But there is one main problem that I have with this theory after thinking about it: I believe that EVERYONE is born good, and that evil is learned along the way. Do you really think newborn babies are thinking about harming or killing someone? NO! Somewhere along the way they learn from either their parents, peers or their environment--or all three--that it's okay to kill or that violent feelings are acceptable and that acting upon them is nothing out of the norm. Simply put, if you love inflicting pain upon others, you are extensively broken, and most likely grew up around others who were just as broken with seemingly no other way to release emotion. I refuse to believe that people are born with evil inside of them.

I can't say I blame him for thinking this way, or anyone else who thinks similarly, seeing as almost all of us are brought up to believe that violence and competition are the natural order of things. Just think about it: Darwin gave us survival of the fittest, which, if taken on a basic level only promotes the illusion of scarcity and lack; only the strongest, smartest, most capable ones win. And because no one wants to be left out, we fight, and hoard, and fear that our peers will have more than we do...and then we become separate. We no longer work together to create a symbiotic community where everyone has enough.

It came to me that many people laugh at the idea of world peace because they think we're talking about a perfect world, a utopia. I have to admit that at first I also had this idea in my head, which is why I was having such a hard time "selling" and making sense of it. After ruminating over this for a while, it hit me that living in peace does not mean being perfect. There are people in this world who are committed to peace (monks, youth leaders, meditation gurus, Reiki healers, etc.) who still make mistakes and go through tough times. A perfect world cannot exist because we humans are not perfect. When this realization came to me I breathed a sigh of relief because now I could completely get behind my belief and articulate it more completely.

Let me reiterate this: peace does not mean perfection. Peace means acceptance of the things, people, and situations that are imperfect. Peace means knowing that even if you make mistakes, you did the best you could with what you knew and followed your heart. Peace means that you no longer hold any long-standing grudges or resentments against anyone or anything, because you know that you also had a part to play in the situation; you take full responsibility for your own actions. Peace means knowing that you create your own reality, and that you have the power to change your own life through setting intentions and letting go of attachment. Peace means letting go of fear and trusting that everything happens for a reason, and that there is a bigger and better plan in store for us. Peace comes from loving yourself and being undeniably true to who you are, and knowing that you are enough exactly the way you are.

At the end of the day we all create our own little realities, each of them being right. If my friend believes that everyone will always want to fight and that war is the only answer, he is right. He will attract a life filled with experiences that prove this to be true based on what he wants to see. If I believe that world peace is possible, I am right too. Based on the intentions I hold, the thoughts I have, and the actions I take, I will attract more and more peace into my life and people who are committed to the same goal.

Even if I am completely delusional and may never live to see the day when peace becomes the universal reality, I would rather believe in something that brings me happiness on a daily basis than in something that brings me pain and suffering. Wouldn't you? I am committed to holding a vision where the world resolves conflict without feeling the need to inflict pain on the other, or by dropping bombs that kill millions of innocent people caught in the crossfire. I am committed to maintaining a balance of energy by meditating on a daily basis, grounding myself so that I may be a better human being. I am committed to peace in my own day to day life, and being gentle with myself even when I have moments of anger, judgment and fear.

I realize that if we continue the way we've been going, there is no way world peace is possible. That's why a major upheaval to the system is required, all of us who are broken need to become whole, and a commitment to being our true selves needs to be made...things I know won't happen overnight. I realize that people will still fight over things and people and stupid issues. I realize that people will disagree with each other and have moments of resentment, jealousy, anger, fear, and sadness. I also realize that it may need to get worse before it gets better and that negativity will always be present on some level, but I believe that all of this will have much less power over the individual, therefore the world in the long run. 

That's why it all starts with me and you. If you are waiting around hoping for peace while you're sitting on your ass, thinking that you can tear other people down or hold resentment in your heart, you will be waiting for a very long time; it will not come. Living in peace is not a given, it is a choice. When you intend it, think it, then be it, peace will be yours. What are you going to choose?

In the Spotlight

When we're babies and mere toddlers, we don't care anything at all about what the outside world thinks of us. All we're doing is learning, observing, playing, and giving love. It's completely natural for the world to revolve around us; we accept the attention gladly and without a thought, especially because we didn't have to work very hard at all to receive it. And then for some reason some of us lose sight of that, and we grow up thinking that it's wrong and scary and selfish to be in the spotlight. After a while it becomes so normal to be out of it that you start feeling unworthy of letting your light shine and gracing everyone with your presence.

Well, this is me. I am afraid of the spotlight, of attention, recognition, you name it. Somewhere along the way I started distrusting the attention and praise I was getting, and I'm not exactly sure why. It could be due to who I was getting it from or the way in which the attention was given, but in any case I learned to shy away from my true self and play it small in most areas of my life. Now, for those of you who know what my physical attributes are, this will seem a little counter-intuitive. I am incredibly tall and not afraid to wear heels, and due to this fact I command attention when I walk into a room. I can't help it, heads turn. The thing is, I give away that power as soon as I open my mouth; the two just don't sync up.

The thing about fear of self-worth is, if you feel unworthy in one area of your life, chances are that there's some of that energy going on in every other area. I can personally count the ways, and I'll start with the physical. Let's face it: I do not have a "perfect" body. I like to keep a protective layer (or two) of padding around my waist to keep people at an arm's distance, men especially. I cannot tell you how many guys I've "written off" right away because I just know that they're the kind of guy who needs a woman of physical perfection by their side. I cannot tell you how many people have told me I should model due to my height, but I make sure to shut down and deny any possibility of that happening because of my love-handles. Not that I would ever want to make a career out of it, but the truth is, I wouldn't mind being involved in a few photo shoots here and there.  There have been so many exciting experiences that I've missed out on all because it's been my belief that only people with perfect bodies are allowed to be the center of attention.

Next is romantic love. Oh man, I keep away from this at all costs, and have done so for my entire life. It's so much easier to be alone and tell yourself and the world that you don't need anyone to make you happy. While I do believe that you absolutely have to know happiness with yourself as a single person, there's a certain point where that becomes an excuse and a reason to push relationships away. It's scary to be in a relationship, to be in love. Why? Because eventually, that person will see all of your dark sides and realize that you are not perfect and leave; you are completely vulnerable to them, giving them the power to take your heart in their hands and crush it. This has happened to me without even being in a serious relationship, why would I risk it actually being in one? Ironically, I've done some really stupid things and made a complete fool out of myself many times in my quest to love and be loved.

Then there's finances and business. This has been the most prominent area of my life lately, which has actually been the reason I started thinking critically about this topic. In my line of work, it is all effort-based. There is no "security" of an hourly wage, no risk of getting fired, but definitely no guarantee of success if you don't fight for it. The thing about being a business owner is that it's a lot like a relationship: it will unabashedly show you all of the areas in which you need to improve and change. You cannot get away without growing into a different person, and you definitely can't make it to the other side unscathed.

One of the main features of this particular business is recognition. This is one of the biggest areas in which I have been pushed out of my comfort zone many times over. I have had to get up in front of a room of 20-30 people and bring up the energy, tell stories and maintain that energy. I've been forced to speak in front of 80-100 people to set the tone for the night, introduce highly successful people, and exude confidence even when it's non-existent. When I'm up there, I cannot escape the spotlight; all eyes are on me, and that is an extremely uncomfortable place for me to be. While I've been forced to improve in this area, I'm still not where I want to be. I have been keeping success at bay for fear of receiving even more recognition than I'm comfortable with. I still feel unworthy of claiming financial independence for myself, and it's a feeling that isn't serving me in any way, shape, or form.

The point of all of this transparency is to say that I've had enough. I'm tired of shrinking away from the light and denying who I really am. I'm tired of settling for less and letting excuses and small victories be enough. I'm tired of being the one that's never truly risked having her heart broken for a chance at love with the right person. I'm tired of always having just barely enough money to get by and travel to a couple of places. I'm tired of giving away my power to people who don't deserve it, and I'm especially tired of putting my own health at risk just because I'm scared of someone else feeling insecure around me. I'm tired of feeling unworthy, period.

With that being said, I'm reclaiming the little girl inside of me that didn't care what anyone said or thought, and letting her inspire my young-adult self. I deserve all the success and love in the world. My dreams and my happiness are worth fighting for; I am worth fighting for. I won't be an easy target for interested suitors. If you're intimidated or feel insecure around me, I refuse to take any further responsibility for that; it's your issue, not mine. I won't do that guilt trip shit to myself anymore. I'm a tall amazon woman, and I absolutely love being one! I don't care how long it takes me to become financially independent--I will get there.

I'm not perfect, nor will I ever be...but that's part of the fun ;) It's time for me to get out of my own way and claim my rightful place in the spotlight.

Childhood Nostalgia

When you're growing up, it's easy to think that you're the only one in the world going through what you're going through (and even as adults, now that I think about it), that you're the only one in so much pain, and that no one could ever possibly understand you. And because you think this way, everything and everyone is such...a huge..deal. It's only until you start getting out there in the world and seeing different things, different people, different families, that makes you begin to realize that you're not so alone...that maybe someone will be able to understand you, and that some people have it even worse than you do. I don't know about everyone else, but this is how the process went for me.

In the past three or four years I've held onto only the pain of my childhood, remembering only the things that hurt me or the people/situations from whom or where I picked up all of my bad habits and dysfunctional thinking. Besides a few different occasions, I've never really chosen to remember all of the good things that happened to me or the fun things and events I was a part of growing up. Being with this particular family in Italy has shown a light on how much better my childhood was than I have remembered it to be, because I see so much of my own past-family-life in this one.

When I first arrived, I realized almost immediately some of the same patterns I experienced as a little girl (some of them being not so great) and I was overly sensitive in seeing them take place. I would internally react in a negative way when I felt Cecilia was being wronged: when I felt she was being treated unfairly, when I felt like her parents would overreact to some small, insignificant, rebellious action, or when I felt she wasn't being accepted by her own parents. It was an intense emotion, feeling useless and angry and sad whenever one of these "events" popped up. I felt like I had to defend her, not in front of them, but afterwards when I went to comfort her, to try and make her know that she was loved. And then I realized that I reacted so intensely because I was projecting who I was as a little girl on her: the one who never felt accepted, the one who never felt she could do anything right, the one who never felt loved.

The funny thing is, after I processed, acknowledged and released this feeling of injustice and grief, the projections stopped, the intensity subsided, and I could finally see her as her own person...someone who is on this particular life path for a reason and will become who she is meant to become, just like I am, just like everyone is. She might in fact feel some of the same things I felt growing up, but we are not the same person, and I know that now.

One of the fun things I remember thanks to this family is whistling. Giacomo, the father of Cecilia, whistles (very well, I might add) while he cuts fruit, hangs up laundry, cleans a room, etc. and I feel at home when I hear him whistle. One of the most vivid memories I have is of my dad constantly whistling, and remembering how much I loved it, how much it was a part of my life, and how it made me feel like everything was okay. It was a comforting sound for me growing up, and apparently it still is; I smile every time!

Another similarity is that Giacomo likes to be neat, just like my dad. He will spend a few hours whenever he's home, attentively scrubbing the kitchen counters and other things of this nature, and it makes me chuckle to myself. Almost every guy I know in my life besides these two live like slobs, not giving a damn if their rooms are messy, if their bathrooms have crap caked on the edge of the sink, or if the dishes are piled up like a mountain. I'm not saying that orderly men don't exist, but for now these are the two men I know personally that value a clean home enough to do some work on it themselves. I can't remember a time when my dad's house was a mess for longer than an hour or so, actually. Funny how this is one of the habits I didn't pick up from him growing up ;) I chose to learn that one the hard way much later.

The fact that this family gets together often with their friends and family makes me remember how much my family did when we were younger. Growing up, we were almost always with our cousins, aunt and uncles, grandparents, friends of the family, etc. and we would play fun games and spend our traditional vacation to Indian Cove together. Not to say that we never fought, because believe me, I was the cause of a lot of them back then, but for the most part we got along famously. Even though now we all have our own lives and are not very close anymore, there are some moments and places I will never forget and that will forever have a special place in my heart.

I've also noticed that some of the names I call Cecilia are the exact names my dad used to call my sisters and I as kids. They come out naturally, as if I had transported myself back in time and heard them all over again. Some of these names consist of: bugnut, bugaloo, silly goober, little stinker, etc. I haven't been called these names in ages, and I've never called anyone but her these names, and it made me wonder why. And then it hit me that since I have such a strong bond with this girl, I see her as I would my own daughter, therefore taking on the role of a parent or guardian.

I've heard it said that we recreate our childhoods, but I've never truly understood it until now. This knowledge has always scared me in the past, because I've never wanted to recreate the childhood I had if I were to ever choose to have my own family. But now I'm not so scared. It seems as if I’ve recreated it without having done the work of raising a family myself, and this is the part that I find the most interesting: it doesn’t negatively affect me anymore. After staying with this Italian family, I realize how much they have helped shift my perspective. The best example I can give to explain this is that Giacomo is almost exactly like my father; he is stubborn, short-tempered and impatient, and at first this was all I saw in him, just like this was all that I saw in my father. Now I can see that while he is indeed all of these things, he is also good-hearted, playful and honest, just like mine. He knows how to entertain and keep a conversation going, just like mine. He does the best he can with what he is given, and loves his daughter the way he knows how to love, just like mine.  

I’m no longer triggered in the same way when I see or experience an injustice from my childhood, which is how I know that I’ve undergone a major healing. I’ve become quite attached to this family, not only because I feel at home with them, but because they have been essential to my growth as a human being. They have unknowingly showed me what I needed to work on, and now thanks to them, I have a new perspective on my life as a child. These days, not everything is such a huge deal, and in fact, my life flows better than it ever has before. There will probably be more layers of my childhood to peel back and process in the future, but right now I am in a beautiful place. Now I can look back nostalgically and say, “yeah, those were some good times.”

                         My favorite little Italian girl...the one who's made this whole thing possible :)