The Roadtrip Sessions: Installment #2

Especially as a woman in recovery from religious trauma, self-loathing, perfectionism, opiates and alcohol, the ability to walk around with the experience that “I am absolutely OK just as I am” is nothing less than a miracle.

It’s been 10 consecutive days camping, hiking, swimming and posting up in driveways. The evidence is indisputable:

  • I have not changed out of my Olakai sandals, except for ONCE when I used the local Planet Fitness in Eureka California. My feet are toughened up for the barefoot season, to put it nicely. (I did book a pedicure today. I’m camping, but a girl still has needs.)
  • I’ve not worn a bra once, only occasional tank top like sports bras. If you’ve been reading for awhile, you know I probably don’t NEED a bra. (refer to this early blog. Fair warning: not my best material. Raw, genuine, but pre-writing course and I’m not taking the time to edit.) From the looks of the locals, I don’t think this part of Oregon requires the undergarment.
  • My skin is glowing with summer tan. And by tan, I mean my freckles have grown together close enough that from a distance, if you squint your eyes, I appear to have a mild bronze sheen. I’ll take it, it’s the best I can ask for.
  • My eyes are sparkling, my gait nonchalant and my face relaxed. (Ok, that could be the botox I got right before the trip…) Schedules/plans/obligations are beginning to feel like a thing of the past.

It’s official. I’m in vacation mode. After a week of reveling in the foggy western coastline and brilliant green shade of Northern California’s Redwoods, it was time to head inland for sunnier times.

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Sunny spot just outside Eagle Point, Oregon

Meandering northeast, I stopped for the night in Eagle Point, Oregon where I met a charismatic, van-owning woman whom impacted my life significantly in a matter of hours. She gifted me a homemade smudge stick, added me to a women’s only online van community, and generously shared the journey of her grief/healing process when our conversation turned to aging dogs and loss of parents. She introduced me to Laurie Anderson’s documentary “Heart of a Dog”,  and showed me mementos such as a healing candle from her mother’s service, and gorgeous glass pendant created from her beloved dog’s ashes by Psyche Cremation Jewelry in Bend, Oregon (which as you know was my next stop!) Cassie – my own special canine soulmate  – is still very much alive, but a large part of my trip’s purpose has been to celebrate her life and prepare for inevitable loss as she begins to slow down at 14 years old. And always, in the back of my mind, are thoughts of how and when I’ll begin to deal with my father’s passing in 2017. So much occurred in one brief night at Eagle Point, it’s hard to explain in a paragraph. Just trust me; I was meant to meet this woman.

Tuesday allowed for a detour through Umpqua Hot Springs. I love hot springs! Growing up, I had a foggy sense of their existence as there are some near Baker Lake at our family’s annual camping location. But I only came to appreciate the rich, sultry liquid when my former partner and I visited Ainsworth Hot Springs in BC Canada (GO! there are caves to swim through. It’s breathtaking). Later, we enjoyed both primitive and man-made hot spring stops in Utah. I fell so in love with them, I have a future road trip planned entirely around hot pool destinations.

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Umpqua!

After soaking in nature’s steamy mineral bath (Cassie accidentally soaked for a second herself, thinking it was an individual dog-sized lake) we continued to Bend.

Bend, Oregon. Outdoor Utopia.

Every time I visit I resolve to relocating, along with thousands of other visitors who are searching for the perfect combination of city/country/mountains/nature/metro/hipster/family friendly/dog loving/sunshine/snow sports/progressive paradise.

But don’t tell anyone. If too many migrate, it won’t stay this way! (at least that’s what many of the locals will say if you mention interest in transferring your life to their precinct.)

Nowhere is perfect, but Bend is close. The downside is it’s verrryyy expensive, so I’ll have to find a longterm “Driveway Host” and live out of my van if I’m going to make the move. It’s not a completely preposterous scheme.

  • “Driveway Host”: A van owner who offers other van owners a driveway, curb side parking, guest room or lawn to camp in. They may also provide access to shower, shore power, laundry, mechanical assistance, and if you’re really lucky, as I was – morning lattes and late evening dog-sitting.
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    Outside my Driveway Host’s house, with their pup and mine!

Turning the corner in my van, Bend’s city proper welcomed us. The sun shone, freshly filtered through tall evergreens; the Deschutes river burbled in the distance and mixed with a buskers ukulele, composed a uniquely local melody; the subtle smell of coffee, organic gardens, kombucha, hops, and cannabis (all types – CBD, THC, whole hemp) wafted through the air.

Between the the mountainous atmosphere and the eclectic yet cozy culture, I feel at home in this region of Oregon. Free to live my truth without judgment, criticism or dismissal, I feel at home in my mind, skin, and van. My quirky vehicle weighted down with a SUP, bike, wetsuit filled rubbermaid totes and a big-eared cattledog perched in the passenger seat is only one of many on the road. Walking through town sporting overalls, bikini top, and tattoos perpetually attached to a dog at the end of a leash could make me the town’s poster model.

This notion was verified at a food truck lot when I asked the bartender “Do you have anything non-alcoholic?” She smiled widely and listed 4 delicious options besides water, cola, or iced tea. When I googled “non alcoholic beer, Bend” about 5 articles popped up. This is my place, you guys.

The ultimate display of my comfort level occurred at Sparks Lake when I opted to sunbathe topless, completely unprovoked.

If you know me, you know this habit to be opposite my personality. Skinny dipping with friends? Sounds awesome! You go in the buff, I’ll wear prudish undies. Women’s only, clothing-optional spa? I option for clothing, thank you very much! And politely avert my eyes from those choosing otherwise. Not because I judge them; because I judge myself and my own thoughts. I often joke about refusing to go naked in my own sauna at home.  Raised in a conservative household, bodies were invariably covered with clothing. Which is fine. But I’ve had a bit of envy mixed with confusion and uncertainty around people who let it all hang out, in public no less than private. For instance, the free spirited nakeds at Umpqua hot springs. I myself was in a bold bikini, but the uninhibited confidence of those in the nude left me longing for even a hint of that character trait. Turns out, I’m not lacking it altogether. It simply took 24 hours in a safe environment before I could start expressing it.

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Rare sighting of Tiffany in her natural state

Of course, I kept my top within reach and every time a voice or footsteps got too close, I hurriedly clutched it against the “R” rated parts of my chest. My risk taking behavior was worth it – not a tan line in site.

Cassie and I have been hard at work trying to fit as many activities as possible in our time in Bend. We splashed in the river at Tumalo State Park. We jogged lazily around Mirror Pond, stopping to greet the geese. We bought hipster sunglasses and a variety of “Be nice, you’re in Bend” and “Ride Oregon” stickers. I drank many coffees at many shops and Cassie lapped up water from the plethora of dog bowls available around the city. We ate the best fried chicken po’boy I’ve ever had at ‘The Lot’ food truck park. And there, as if planted right in the middle of a Warner Bros rom-Com, we met the nicest boy with striking light green eyes and his sweet 10 month old puppy, Rolf. (names have been changed to protect the innocent)

Here’s what happens when people feel at home; we become relaxed, confident, at ease and at peace. Self-doubt and self-judgment slips away. We can begin to act without obsessively over-analyzing each move.

As I continue to mature in my late 30’s, I grow less concerned with anyone else’s opinion. But as a human, I have to admit I still fear judgment. I long for acceptance.

Especially as a woman in recovery from religious trauma, self-loathing, perfectionism, opiates and alcohol, the ability to walk around with the inner wisdom that “I am absolutely OK just as I am” is nothing less than a miracle.

When I initially entered into a contract with the state department of health, I lived a double life for about one full year. Desperate to preserve my reputation through anonymity, I went to great lengths to hide the fact I was on anti-addiction medication and attending weekly therapy and support groups. I spent a lot of that time considering whether my life was worth living.

Coming out as a sober, recovering individual gave me the freedom to learn to love myself. I started, of course with a blog. Eternally a work in progress, my confidences waxes and wanes. Many times, prior to meeting a new person or entering unfamiliar territory, I have a debate with myself: “Do I share about sobriety? How much is enough, how much is too much? Will I be judged for my addiction? Will I be dismissed for my past mistakes?” Recovery is not the only factor in my self-imposed deliberation. There’s also my fervent liberal views, Buddhist inspired meditation practice, advocacy for LGBTQ….and Oh Yeah, my passion for hippy van-living.

For four days last week, in Bend, I was nearly 100% free from the inner conflict of how much “myself” I “should” be. I shed my armor and glowed with authenticity. I gathered courage and seized the idea that this roadtrip was welcoming me home to myself.

Find the place that makes you feel most at home and allow yourself to practice being you. Once you encounter the joy and liberation this brings, you can’t settle for anything less. You’ll discover acceptance is defined only by you; those that can’t or won’t accept your truth – even if you love them – have no say in the matter.

I feel exceptionally lucky that traveling landed me in a community that called for me to come as I am. Looking forward to a She Recovers Retreat as my next stop on this adventure, I realize I have many of these spaces. It’s not just luck though, it’s a choice to engage with others who are authentic, seeking transformation and letting go of old shame, stories and habits that poison their perceptions.

It’s a life I’m deliberately cultivating, filled with strong women, opportunities for growth and endless possibilities to experience intrinsic wholeness.

Where are you most yourself? Where can you shed armor and glow authentic?

Where do you feel you need to dampen your shine, or conform to the “norm”?

I challenge you to push yourself to glow more often, more places, regardless of opinion or circumstance!

Looking for support, structure and accountability to make this a reality in your life? I would love to accompany you on your journey.

Cheers and Gratitude,

Tiffany

Email me: tiffany@recoverandrise.com or make an appointment for a FREE Discovery Call here! 

Recover and Rise: Life and Recovery Coaching for your highest well-being

Warming Up to Hot Yoga

The sign on the door warned ominously: “Do not enter until you are prepared to settle in and stay the whole time.” Running late, I didn’t have time to think twice. Prepared or not, I was going in.

People LOVE hot yoga. It’s one of those things where if you’re in, you’re IN. People claim it works for everything from stress detox to curing cancer.

I’ve not been one of those people. Firstly, I’m a skeptic when it comes to cure-alls. Secondly, I prefer Iceland to Costa Rica. I own a beautiful cedar sauna, but that’s mostly ironic. I have to sit in a low chair near the floor to escape the heat.

In spite of my preference for exercising in temperatures that don’t cause heat stroke; and my disdain for humidity (my hair will not behave in it), I am always open to adventure. So when the opportunity arose to join a class while traveling in B.C., I accepted with a (sort of) open mind.

Besides, it’s been on my radar for some time after watching an acquaintance on Instagram attribute her ripped abs to a year of this practice. (I never said my motives were all pure!)

After paying the drop in fee to the extra friendly employee at the desk (Did yoga make her so amicable? Or her good natured Canadian blood?) I was shown the studio where I’d spend the next 75 minutes getting intimate with my sweat glands and bodily odors.

The sign on the door warned ominously: “Do not enter until you are prepared to settle in and stay the whole time.” Running late, I didn’t have time to think twice. Prepared or not, I was going in.

As I made my way in to the aptly named “Sun Room”, I was overcome by two memories:

  1. Running out the door to play at my grandparent’s “over 55” mobile home park in Vegas. In July. In no time at all, my plastic rubber flip flops were melting to the asphalt, and my eyes, nose, mouth – anything previously fortified with natural moisture – were instantly parched. I lasted about 3.5 minutes before submerging myself in a pool.
  2. Eighteen years old and rushing from the baggage claim area in the New Orleans airport. I was a smoker then, and needed to get outside for a cigarette. Once out of the chilly air-conditioned lobby into the sweltering marsh climate, breathing- much less inhaling tobacco I had set on fire- was not an option. My lungs rejected the 100% humidity and I choked on the hot air. Suddenly going without nicotine wasn’t quite so difficult.

In neither one of those situations did I think; “You know what would be really refreshing right now? A long, intense yoga session!”

Yet, there in the “Sun Room”  – 99 Fahrenheit, 40% humidity, 30 human bodies exhaling hot breath – I lay on a mat and hoped to Buddha I was prepared to settle in and stay.

Taking a peek around, I noticed very little clothing. Women were clad in shorts and tank tops or sports bras and briefs. Most men were topless – shorts only. A couple wore loose cotton shirts, which I thought was smart. They could suffice as a towel, in case one didn’t have one to wipe one’s sweaty face. Which I didn’t. And that was unfortunate, because within seconds I was pouring buckets of it.

Since it was winter vacation, I hadn’t really planned ahead for this scenario. My luggage contained one exercise outfit: long, black leggings, and a thick, double layered top – also black. At least it wasn’t long sleeved. This was the type of outfit you’d pack if you planned to power walk outdoors in near freezing weather. An outfit you would layer under a sweater and match with gloves and boots- not proper attire for doing push-ups in a sauna.

So there I was. Bending, stretching, downward-dogging in my black ninja suit, with no towel to wipe the sweat rivers pouring off my forehead onto the mat. “Reach your arms up like branches. Become the tree that you are.” How apropos. As I became the tree, I realized I wasn’t sweating, I was oozing tan colored tree sap.

OK it wasn’t really sap. It was just the ONE day that week I chose to slather my face in a layer of “natural ivory” foundation. Only to have it seep off me into creamy puddles on my blue mat.

The instructor’s voice rose “As you inhale…” (This was a chore in itself, as inhaling meant sucking in hot air. See New Orleans, #2 above). “…plant your hands in front of you on your mat, and raise your hips high into the air.”

I planted my hands and used them to frantically rub the makeup/sap into the mat, in a desperate attempt to keep people from noticing and thinking

  • A) I’m so vain I do my makeup just to attend hot yoga

OR

  • B) I wasn’t perspiring but in fact exuding a tan liquid dangerously close to the color of pus and likely due to an infectious process

I don’t know which of those is worse. Either way, all I managed to do was spread it around like finger painting.

“Hold your pose. Embrace the stillness as you enhance your posture.”

Hold the pose!? I was slip sliding all over! Was everyone else holding still? I peered around, and sure enough, most of them were “embracing the stillness”. Not because they were expert yogis, or suffered from anhidrosis, but because all of them – every single one – had a large, thin towel laying over top of their mats, collecting the sweat and creating a textured, non-skid surface for their hands and feet.

You know who didn’t have one of these magic mats?

Me. The tree-sap leaking, makeup melting, yoga ninja. The puddle was growing, and I was non-too gracefully gliding through it. My head hung down between my lubricated hands, my eyes burned, blinded by sweat, and my butt perched high in the air. Every limb wiggled in different directions. Sort of like a newborn fawn might look on an ice rink. Only less graceful. And less cute. img_2329

I guess when I told the uber-friendly Canadian employee it was my first time and I’d need to rent a mat, she forgot the all too important hot yoga accessory: the “non-slip towel”. I forgave her though. She really was super nice.

I managed to slide my way into puppy pose without breaking my neck. As others dabbed translucent beads of perspiration off their foreheads with towels, I balled up the hem of my thick black shirt to wipe my face. When I stretched it back out, it was ivory tie dyed.

I was hot, thirsty and drenched.

And…

I felt unexpectedly good.

My body acclimated to the heat, like it’s meant to. And my thoughts, feelings and sensations all stayed right where they should – in the present moment – despite being somewhat uncomfortable.

One pose was particularly challenging: Standing on tip toes, then squatting down as far as my butt would go towards the ground, while keeping heels up and staying on tip toes. My hands held in prayer then stretched up toward the sky as my thighs squeezed tighter and my butt lowered further.

It started to hurt like a mother…

The instructor encouraged: “You can stay here, just a moment longer. For 3….2….1…and now stand and allow your arms to fall, as you take the biggest deepest breath. Feel all those sensations fade away.”

And they did. I watched myself in the mirror experience the magic of impermanence…the burning “pain” sensations in my quads faded at the exact moment she said they would. We gently moved to the next pose, the tightness in my legs long forgotten.

For 75 minutes I was fully immersed in the practice of healing yoga (and my own  aqueous material. Ew.) All my focus was directed at balance and breath; there was no brain room left for anything else. For 75 minutes, I was able to release everything in life but the Now.

Hot Yoga was mindfulness in motion. Maybe with enough practice, I could glide through the movements without thinking; distractions like dinner plans, work woes, or family drama could consume me while I posed. But I think the temperature truly helps counteract this. The heat couldn’t be ignored – it served as a constant reminder that I was right there, not in the past or future.

And after all, noticing distraction is the practice. Thoughts won’t go away, but we can learn to bring ourselves back to NOW over and over. As an activity becomes more familiar and automaticity takes over, it’s an opportunity to stretch our limits and push the edges to continue cultivating deep mindful presence.

When class ended, I was so tired, soaked, and buzzed from vasodilation and mild dehydration I could hardly carry my water bottle. I definitely could not pull my denim jeans up over my legs, and was grateful for the dark color as I wore very wet leggings home.

But as we left I had an unanticipated thought:

“I want to do that again.”

I expected to mostly hate it. I thought I’d spend much of the time in “corpse pose”, flat on the ground wishing it would end. Like the heat of Vegas or New Orleans – it was alluring, unfamiliar and initially intolerable. But I adapted. And unlike visiting those areas, when it was over I felt invigorated – not wasted.

I felt the best kind of tired. The kind of tired you get after a day of bright sunshine, swimming in a glacial lake, or belly laughing with your girl friends.

Not weary or lethargic. Just healthily wrung out, grateful, and content.

Two days later, I really did go back! (No abs yet though. Hm.) And I’ve been marking the days on my calendar that I can start attending regularly at my local studio.

This is not an advertisement for a hot yoga studio by the way (the one I went to though, is MODO in Kelowna BC and obviously they were Ahhh Mazing 😁) It’s not even a suggestion to do hot yoga at all. I know it’s not for everyone, and even physically dangerous for some.

I’m simply sharing an experience I expected to leave me high and dry, yet found surprisingly refreshing.

I’m encouraging you to try something new, even if you don’t have the right clothes, the right moves or the right towel. Attempt the unfamiliar and totally drench yourself in the moment. Your body is brilliant – it will adapt to surroundings, even if your mind doesn’t agree.

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And those stretching, pulling, tugging, burning, and even uncomfortable sensations you’re feeling? Take a deep breath; they will always fade and pass.

If you do decide to give it a try – skip the makeup that day. Trust me.

I’d love to hear YOUR experience. Are you a Hot Yogi? Or do you prefer your baby cobra in cooler climates? Comment below! Or email me

Tiffany@recoverandrise.com

 

Cheers and Gratitude,

Tiffany

New Year’s Eve Reflection: Top 5 Ways I Stayed Sober in 2018 (and 3 things I won’t do next year)

My current goals aren’t that different from my childhood resolutions, but my outlook is much healthier. The difference is I don’t beat myself up over perceived “failure”, and I focus on moving toward balance with simple daily intentions vs. rigorous long term requirements. I also don’t write the list in glitter pen on cardstock and tape it to my wall.

New Year’s Eve is one holiday I love, even sober. (Especially Sober!) As a kid, my BFF Jenny and I celebrated with a sleepover. We made our favorite bean dip (literally just canned refried beans topped with melted cheese), then rang in the new year by clanging pots and pans with wooden spoons on the front porch. Our poor neighbors!

But I’ve never taken New Year’s resolutions too seriously. The last time I officially set them I was probably 12. They undoubtedly went like this:

  • Talk to ____ ASAP and get him to like me
  • Eat 1000 calories a day MAX (no more PIZZA!)
  • Write in diary every day

I would then immediately scarf down pizza (still my fav food!) and write in my diary for about 3 consecutive days before getting distracted. I did follow through with passing a note to the boy I liked, after which he promptly let me know how much I repulsed him.

My current life goals aren’t that different, but my outlook is much healthier. You could still call me boy crazy, I struggle with emotional eating, and I aim to write daily in a journal yet fall short frequently. The difference is I don’t beat myself up over perceived “failure”. I focus on moving toward balance with simple daily intentions vs. rigorous long term requirements. I also don’t write the list in glitter pen on cardstock and tape it to my wall.

(But I do get nostalgic for that big dish filled with bean dip, and the vibration of pots and pans under my spoon as Jenny and I whacked away, our pajama clad legs chilled by the night air.)

This New Year’s Eve, I’m reflecting on my decisions from 2018 – my second full year in active recovery – to see what worked and what I want to avoid in the future.

Top 5 tools that helped me stay sober in 2018:

Meditation/Mindfulness

  • Mindfulness is not just a buzzword (though when I first heard it I rolled my eyes painfully). Diagnostics such as MRI (detailed brain scans) prove that a consistent meditation practice can improve the brain in a number of ways – including decreasing addictive habits. I’m proof this is true. Mindfulness is the concept that has become my lifestyle and source of spirituality. Meditation is the tool, or exercise, to sustain it. What I love about this custom is that it’s inherently positive, with core values of loving kindness, gratitude and compassion. It keeps the focus calmly on the present, not anxiously tied up in the past or future. My routine involves attending/facilitating meetings with guided group meditations and a fairly consistent home practice, though it’s always a work in progress! Mindfulness helps me cultivate self-awareness and observe my thoughts vs. being a victim of them. My mind can be chaotic, negative, and limiting; I get to choose whether or not to get attached to that. (I have really exciting news about how I’m furthering my meditation education in 2019 to be of even more service to others!! Info coming soon!!)

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Connection/Community

  • As an extroverted introvert, I recharge alone. I thrive for hours (days even???) with my face in a book, lost in my own world. That doesn’t mean I don’t genuinely value, cherish and need intimate connections. I’ve self-medicated to numb loneliness and rejection for a long time. Recovery gives me the gift of connection, and She Recovers is a blessing of highest proportions. I used to feel like a lost speck of space dust hurling aimlessly through the sky. Now it’s as though I’m energetically connected to countless other stars; threaded into a tapestry of constellations, each of us with a significant and solid place in the universe. Face to face events like this one are examples of how we support one another. There’s also a secret Facebook group – it’s open to all women, just secret for privacy. (Are you a woman who wants to join? Email me!) Locally, I stay connected through meetings with others who share similar struggles (My program is Refuge Recovery). Staying close with friends and family who aren’t in the sober squad is fulfilling as well. When I lose connection, and feel (or create) isolation, it’s easy to revert to negative, selfish thinking. Supported, empowered and encouraged within a community, I’ve got a much higher chance of sober success.
  • The opposite of addiction is connection. – Johann Hari

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Shout out to Hannah! Connection is essential.

Accountability

  • If I’m only accountable to myself, I abandon my ambitions. Alone with my thoughts and schemes, I rationalize unhealthy habits, justifying how it’s perfectly OK to “drink just one”, skip meetings or be a “just a little” dishonest. To avoid this pitfall, I stay accountable in a number of ways. The most formal is random drug tests to maintain my nursing license. So as much as I hate someone watching me pee, I’m very grateful for this commitment! Involvement in a recovery community – including local meetings and social media – plays a major role in reliability. I want to be an example that recovery is possible. I want to represent a drug and alcohol free way of life and do everything possible to end stigma. Being of service, volunteering, and partnering with clients keeps my focus outward and forward; helping others ultimately helps me.

Physical Health

  • Lifting in the gym (THANK YOU to my trainer @Onerepatatime_ !), running outside, or skiing in the winter…frequent physical activity boosts my mood. I find myself craving it in the best way and consider it necessary for sober success. Initially, I had to drag myself to get going. With time and consistency, I really look forward to moving and sweating. It’s especially useful to turn around negative, triggered, anxious or depressed thoughts. Yoga is more than a physical survival tool, it’s holistically healing and an integral part of my exercise/spiritual routine. Nutrition plays a big role in mood, memory, libido, and energy level, so abstaining from toxic substances like alcohol and drugs is a given, but keeping sugar to a minimum and eating whole healthy food has proven to be a challenge for me in 2018. I’ve struggled with sugar cravings even this far into sobriety. Room for growth in the upcoming year!

Failing

  • In 2018 I founded my business, completed a business mentorship and 6 month writing program, wrote a book proposal, built up a social media platform, traveled to Iceland, Paris, & France, drove my Van thousands of miles with a dog as my sidekick, dated a handful of idiots and a few nice guys, published a bunch of articles, and had a bunch more rejected. I overcame obstacles, enforced boundaries, and lost some relationships. I succeeded at many things, and “failed” at many more. In my experience, failure is a necessary part of the adventure. It’s so cliche!! But it means I tried something that was scary and out of my comfort zone requiring courage. Some of you may remember my blog was initially named “Tiffany Tries Again”. Before I disclosed my addiction, I was simply sharing a series of challenging and often humorous undertakings, hoping it would inspire you to keep trying, regardless of outcomes. This is one of my early blogs discussing just that. (And it isn’t one of my best. But that’s really OK.) If I don’t fail a whole bunch in 2019, it’s because I’ve given up and gone to bed. Please break down my door if this happens. (Refer to importance of “connection” and “accountability” above!)
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2018 was a BUSY year!

 

And….3 things I want to avoid…..

Placing others on a pedestal

  • My internal compass generally steers me right. But I’m not exempt from disregarding it completely and taking over navigation. Sometimes I make decisions based on ego and selfish motivation and it hurts when I’m forced to recognize it.I learned the HARD way this year that regardless of years of sobriety, or status in the media, publishing world, or recovery community….every one of us is flawed. We are capable of letting others down. I let someone shine a little too bright in my Universe this last year, and it was painful when the light went dim. My goal in 2019 is to stay on course and use discernment. This means making an effort to view all with balance and compassion; admiring without setting outlandish and admittedly selfish expectations. (I apologize for the ambiguity of this paragraph, but the details of who/what are not nearly as important as the overarching message.)

Saying Yes when the answer is obviously “NO”

  • There were wayyyy too many times last year I ignored my gut and went full speed ahead into disaster and disappointment. This is NOT to be confused with taking healthy risks and going on adventures! I’m talking about saying yes when I absolutely know I should avoid something. Ignoring that internal compass again! This includes saying yes to fun things when the smarter self care is take a bath, go to the gym, or even work (to pay for the fun stuff!) Another example is saying yes to a date even when I was too tired, too grumpy, too triggered, or too vulnerable. There were too many shopping excursions frantically looking for a date outfit; too much time on hair, makeup and sending selfies checking for my girlfriends’ approval. Meanwhile my heart and gut were urging me to STAY the HELL HOME. I’d show up for the date and immediately regret it, feeling like a fool for my day of pampering. My plan in 2019? You got it. Stay the hell home and relish every minute of Netflix and pajamas. I also think maybe I should plan a garage sale….seriously, I can’t believe the amount of pointless clothes I bought this year.
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Dressed up for one of those dates I wish I had skipped altogether…..

OK, I sort of lied.

  • I thought I’d have a definite 3rd thing I don’t want to repeat in 2019. Last year was a roller coaster of joyous, painful, even embarrassing experiences. But thinking back over mistakes I made and chances I took, I don’t think I’d change much. Even if I’m not in love with every bit of 2018’s reflection, I’m honestly satisfied with my current station in life. All of there is what got me here. I hope to say that again at the end of 2019.

Thank you for encouraging, supporting and sharing with me in this journey. I hope it’s inspired you to love yourself and believe you can overcome anything. Or at the least, showed you what not to do and saved you some heartache.

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Cheers to a happy, healthy and bright 2019!

Is a SOBER lifestyle your goal? I wish you complete success!

If you would like accountability, support and structure with addiction recovery or life transition, I would love to help!

Check out my website for program details, or schedule a FREE call with me here!

***I’M HOSTING A FREE ONLINE VISION BOARD WORKSHOP JANUARY 19TH! EMAIL ME TO SIGN UP ASAP! REGISTRATION ENDS JANUARY 9TH.***

Tiffany@recoverandrise.com