Stumbling into Sobriety for my Thirty-Fifth Year

A plan. I needed a plan if I was going to at least attempt abstaining from alcohol for any significant length of time.

This is probably a good time to mention that I am not much of a planner, much to my husband’s delight.

The desire to stop drinking was there. The knowing that it was necessary was there. But the how remained elusive.

I am quite sure that I did, in fact, drink again after that fateful morning. The specifics on that are not entirely clear within my memory, whether that is a result of shame or alcohol-induced amnesia is hard to say.

As I ruminated over the idea of leaving alcohol behind, I was faced with the stark realization that nearly all of my social interactions featured alcohol in the leading role. Outside of work and children’s activities, hanging out with friends or date night always involved alcohol.

Was this a problem? I’m not sure. Maybe? Probably. I did not black out every time I drank but I hated stopping after just one.

I hated stopping when I could start to feel that buzz, when I felt my shoulders relax, and when my confidence and lightheartedness started to swing up. I loved that feeling. One especially fond memory is tossing cheeseballs in the mouth in kitchen and having the kids count how many I could make in a row (14, for those wondering).

I was a fun drunk… until I wasn’t.

A memory with a little less sparkle? Probably when my husband and I had a big fight while our family of 5 was on vacation in a cabin by the river (not to be confused with a van down by the river). I was probably 5 White Claws in and his joke didn’t land right. I got angry, there were words, and then I started crying. What was the joke? What were the words? As any good drinker can tell you, alcohol isn’t known to improve your memory. Did I mention that my husband’s older brother was there? Or that when we fought I acted like I was going to up and leave him? Classic Mean Drunk Brandi move.

Eventually, a plan fell into my mind. I would make my 35th year on earth be a year of sobriety. I was going to turn 35 in September of 2019. I felt pretty confident in my abilities to follow through, as I was able to go 40 days alcohol free during the summer of 2018 after a particularly embarrassing evening while out drinking with college friends.

There was still some confusion on how this could work with our social life. How would I interact with neighbors while everyone else was drinking? What about when coworkers met for after work drinks? How would I explain that I am not drinking for awhile? Do I tell them I am nervous I am losing control? Will they judge me when I say that? Probably, I thought. Then what was the alternative? To say nothing? Do I not leave the house?

I decided to wing it. A brilliant plan indeed.

My birthday came and went, with the celebration involving a gluten free strawberry birthday cake instead of champagne or Stella Rosa. I stocked our fridge with carbonated, flavored water and kept alcohol out of reach. I requested my husband not drink in our home for the time being, as I knew that his drinking (in front of me) would make my abstinence more difficult.

A week came and went. The habit started to lessen a bit. I would come home and grab a flavored water instead of a White Claw. I was doing okay without alcohol.

And then we were invited to our next door neighbor’s surprise 40th birthday party, 13 days after I started my year of sobriety. It was at a bar and grill in Sioux Falls, not too far from our house. I liked this neighbor. She was kind and friendly, I wanted to go.

We took family photos that day at dusk in a town an hour away. We missed the “Surprise!” but stopped by the birthday party on our way back. All of our neighbors were there and, as expected, everyone had a drink in hand.

“Do you want a drink?” My neighbor asked, the question I knew was coming.

I looked around and said, “Yeah. I’ll take a cider. Thanks.”

Brandon looked at me, but said nothing about it. He was not entirely sure why I thought I needed to stop drinking for a year… as I had never told him about the aforementioned Margarita Morning. He ordered a Blue Moon, no orange.

I walked around and socialized, drink in hand. I felt dirty. I had broken the promise I had made to myself. But I couldn’t do it. I didn’t know how to be there and not drink. If I didn’t drink, they would all assume I was pregnant again, which I wasn’t. Having them believe that falsehood is certainly not the worst thing that could happen, but… it bothered me. I didn’t want my ‘friends’ to think I was lying when I wasn’t. (opportunity to add message about how many feel the need to be perceived as authentic more than the need to be authentic to self)

I drank most of the cider, leaving a few drinks behind. We left the party and headed home with our 3 kids. I had a mix of feelings. Somewhat proud that I had limited myself to only one, but also somewhat shattered at giving in so early and so easily.

The next day, I started it over again. I just was not going to drink anymore. For a month, I became a bit of shut in. I did not really want to socialize because I was still unsure how to navigate that setting.

A few weeks later, my husband was running a half marathon in Minnesota (rather Nebraska). Our neighbor was also running. We (our neighbor, his wife, my husband, and me) decided to all ride together, the wives in the cheering section while the husbands ran. We had traveled like this before, but that time I had been running as well.

The night before the race, we went out to eat together. My second test. Jess, our neighbor, ordered a Michelob Ultra. My husband ordered a Guinness (?). Jess’s husband, Gerald, never drank before races, so he got a water. I placed my order for a Diet Mountain Dew and proceeded to tell them that I was taking a break from drinking. They were surprised but okay with it.

“I just feel like I need a break. It’s really hard for me to just have one or two, and I was getting nervous that I was losing control.” I explained.

“Yeah. I drink more in the summer, too. But I can usually stop after 1 beer,” said Jess. “You and Tay were drinking quite a bit for a while there,” she added.

“Yeah. I know that now. I don’t know if this is a forever thing, but it feels good to reset.” I responded.

Gerald nodded and said, “I think it’s cool. Good for you.”

The dinner proceeded without further discussion on it. I felt a little more sturdy in my plan.

The next morning, we were up early to drop the men off and then get to the appointed cheering areas. After they crossed the finish line, we chatted for a while. Eventually, we decided to grab something to eat.

We walked around a few different places until the runners found something on the menu that they liked. It was a Sunday during football season in Lincoln, therefore everywhere we went there were football games on the TV and places to sit, drink, and eat.

This time, everyone got a beer but me. Again, it felt a little weird. But maybe a little bad-ass, too? Like I was sticking it to the proverbial man? Ha. Maybe? But I made it, again. With each small victory, I gained a bit more confidence. Felt a bit more sure of myself without the crutch of alcohol.

The next test arrived in the form of a Halloween Party at another neighbor’s house. My friend Tay and her husband loved Halloween. They went all out with decorations, costumes, and awards for best costumes. It was a big deal.

This would be my first time going sober. I was nervous and did not really want to go. I knew that one neighbor in particular would be fairly vocal about my not drinking. To shield the questions, I grabbed my trusty mint Yeti mug and filled it with sparkling water. I then hid more of that water in the cooler holding my husband’s beer. I would pretend to drink. Another fool proof (zero proof) plan.

Until I needed to refill the mug… and failed to morph into my more sassy counterpart, whom we shall refer to as ***.

“Are you not drinking?” the outspoken neighbor asked, loud enough for all to hear.

“Yeah, no. I am taking a little break from drinking.” I responded.

I heard a “Hmph” and saw raised eyebrows as people looked at one another.

“Also, I am not pregnant. For anyone believing that that is the reason.” I added quickly, wanting to leave already.

Silence. Until a whispered, “Yeah, we’ll see.”

I took a deep breath and tried to shake off my anger and the rising discomfort. Why do I feel embarrassed? I asked myself. I’m doing nothing wrong here. Why is this an expectation? Why is it weird to not drink?

Honestly, I could not be too angry. Before deciding to get sober, I would have been the one encouraging everyone else to drink and have a good time. I would have been the one egging people on, thinking I was helping them relax to have a good time.

I went to stand by my husband and laid my head on his shoulder. He was in a red sweatshirt and dressed as Coco. I was in a black cat onesie/costume that matched my daughter’s. She was at home in bed, as were her brothers. We had hired a babysitter. I tried to decide how long I needed to stay in order to not be perceived as rude or bitchy.

That was October 2019 and after that awkward evening I started staying home more. I started missing more of the neighborhood get-togethers. I was feeling a bit lost, but wanted to stay true to myself and my word.

My friend, V, from a few hours away sent me a book called Sober Curious. I was already a few months into my sober experiment by the time this arrived, but Ruby Warrington’s words were like salve to my bruised soul. I felt calmer and understood. Knowing someone else had stumbled through the beginning sobriety was comforting.

I found that the farther I got away from drinking, the easier it was to not drink. After a few weeks, I would have a bad day at work and not even consider drowning that discomfort with alcohol. I would hit a goal (like lead my first group meditation) and not need a drink.

Nacho Cheese Doritos were a common bandaid for emotional pain, but I tried to enjoy those in moderation.

And then the Coronavirus hit. A little less than 6 months into my year long experiment.

Some days, when homeschooling was hard and it was too cold to send the kids outside, I really, really wanted a drink. But I didn’t. I had built up my ability to say no to that societal fix that didn’t really fix anything. And I didn’t want my kids to think I drank because of them. Because they’re kids. And they’re supposed to drive their mother crazy sometimes, right?

It’s been 18 months now without alcohol. My husband has pretty much cut out drinking, too. Some of that is because of me, but he’s seen benefits, too. The hangovers were real and the emotional toll of COVID could have really expedited a drinking problem. So while I may have chosen the hardest time to be sober, it was probably also the best time.

I do not envision alcohol going away. I do not envision everyone getting sober. But I do hope we can all reflect upon why we drink, and how much we drink.

Is it because we’re happy? Or sad? Or lonely?

Is it really helping, or just masking the pain? Or the joy?

I think it’s probably both.

Will I drink alcohol again?

I’m not sure. Maybe, maybe not. I do not really have much desire to drink at this point. I want to fully experience life and remember each and every moment. I have been to some amazing concerts (The Weeknd, Garth Brooks) and can only remember bits and pieces of those events. That feels like such a shame now.

Alas, shame is a worthless emotion. The past cannot be changed and I am excited for my, for our, future.

Cheers to you, with my NA brew!

Personal Story, Wellness
Oct, 07, 2021

The Margarita Morning

I stood at the kitchen sink with a mint-green Yeti mug in my hand. I had intended to pour out the remnants found within, but found myself frozen in an unfamiliar, uncomfortable situation. I was internally fighting the urge to drink it.

‘It’ being a leftover margarita from the night before.

Did I mention that it was also 8:30 in the morning?

Good moms don’t drink alcohol at 8:30 in the morning, I told myself. Especially when there are zero plans for any kind of neighborhood festivities or parades or any other normal excuse for drinking.

Another part of myself whispered silently, But it smells good and it tastes good. Plus, I am so fun when I drink! The kids will probably like me more if I drink this.

The pull is strong. I can almost feel my shoulders relax with the thought of drinking it.

And no one would have to know…

Nope, Brandi, don’t drink this, my rational mind again urges. Alcoholics drink secret margaritas at 8:30 in the morning on a seemingly normal Sunday. You are not an alcoholic.

I inhaled sharply at that last statement.

Was I an alcoholic? This situation certainly did not seem to bode well for my future with alcohol.

I pieced together the previous evening. My husband and I had been drinking at our neighbor’s house. I had taken our three children over there before my husband, Brandon, had gotten home from work. I was half tuned-up by the time he arrived.

I continued to drink after he got there. My friend, Tay, and I always had a great time talking about life and found countless reasons to laugh. It had been a fun evening. I probably had had at least 4 margaritas and 2 or 3 White Claws in total.

I think I had supported myself with the stroller as we walked home. Our sons were 7 and 5, our daughter was 2. I had asked my husband to carry our daughter upstairs while I fumbled through the boys’ bedtime routine. Quick snack and vitamins, brush teeth and bed. Then tried not to pass out on the floor of their room.

I had woken up in bed that morning, not entirely sure of how I had gotten down the stairs. Things were hazy and my head had been hurting but I was, embarrassingly, surprised I did not feel worse.

Looking further back, I realized I had been buzzed, if not drunk, at least three other days that week. I worked part time and had started drinking on the evenings before my days off. We typically drank with our neighbors every weekend, one or two nights. Four houses took turns hosting, the kids would play while the adults would drink.

It was not uncommon for me to black out a couple times per month, but at the time it did not seem like a big deal. Sometimes one of our neighbors would puke after a get-together. I had not puked in years. Although maybe it would have prevented some of the brutal hangovers I had been experiencing, I thought.

Am I an alcoholic? I wondered again, concerned. Maybe I can just drink one or two instead of 5, or 6, or more.

Now you’re lying to yourself. You know you can never stop after one or two, the snarky inner voice reminded me.

“Hey, what are you doing?” My husband asked, pulling me back to the present moment.

I dumped out the margarita before I could change my mind.

“Just doing some dishes,” I replied, keeping that internal assessment to myself.

“Okay, we should be leaving soon.” He responded.

I looked at him in confusion.

“Rome’s football game.”

“Oh, right. Okay. I’ll finish this and get ready.” I said and smiled at him

Thank God I had poured that margarita out, I thought. It was Saturday. I did not need to be buzzing at my kid’s football game on a Saturday at 9am.

After the frenzy of getting the whole family ready and loaded in the minivan, we took the short drive to the field. My dad was meeting us there. My mom was out of town.

My dad is what I consider a functional alcoholic. For as long as I could remember, he drank every day. The only exception had been when he was on parole for one of his DUIs when I was in high school. I figured if anyone could understand what had happened that morning, it would be him.

My son was only 7, which meant he played flag football. There were no bleachers around the fields, so the spectators were spread out on the sidelines. With my husband coaching and my two younger kids running around on an open field, I took a deep breath and started the conversation that I had been both dreading and looking forward to. Maybe this would make me feel better. Maybe he would tell me it was fine, that I was fine, and that I didn’t need to worry.

“Dad,” I said.

He looked up and furrowed his brow when he noticed the serious tone, “Yeah, honey.”

“So. I know you have had some issues with alcohol. But do you feel like you can control it?”

His eyes opened a little wider. I had surprised him with the topic.

He answered with a question, “What do you mean?”

I explained what had happened that morning with the leftover margarita, how difficult it had been to fight the urge to drink it.

He tried to hide his shock. “Whoa.” He paused. “No. I have never had that happen.”

“Oh.” I said, feeling ashamed and stunned. “I guess I need to be careful then.”

“I guess so,” he replied and turned his eyes back to the football field.

Shit, I thought. That certainly did not go how I thought it was going to. I had come to him looking for wisdom and all I did was freak him out. Shit.

Now I knew. I was losing control of drinking, or perhaps had already lost control. I was worried about the impact I could be having on my kids now that they were older and observing my slurred speech and occasional stumbling. I had some less than glamorous memories of my dad’s drinking as a child, and as an adult.

I wanted to change this path I was on but how could I do that? And was I strong enough to change when I lived in a neighborhood that bonded over alcohol? I wondered.

Probably, but I would need a plan. And some backbone to see it through.

Read the follow up article here.

Personal Story, Wellness
Sep, 16, 2021

It’s Not What You’re Eating, It’s Who You’re Being

I spent a lot of years worrying about every bite I put in my mouth. I carefully counted my calories and sometimes, even measured my food. It was a science and the experts told me it would work, that if I was diligent, I would lose weight. Calories in, calories out. Simple. Easy. It took me a long time to admit that, in fact, it wasn’t working. And it definitely wasn’t easy.

I finally reached my breaking point and I couldn’t go on obsessing about food. It was all I ever thought about. I felt like I wasn’t reaching my full potential because I didn’t have any energy at the end of the day to chase my dreams. I threw in the towel and vowed never to diet again. That is the day my Intuitive Eating journey began.

I went all in. I hired a coach. I read all the books I could get my hands on and filled my social media feed with inspiring accounts. Compared to what I had been doing, Intuitive Eating was relatively easy. Identifying my hunger and fullness took some work, but in the grand scheme of things life was way more peaceful than it had been in a long time.

The interesting thing about honoring your hunger and fullness is that you have to be very aware of what’s going on in your body. This was challenging because I had spent years ignoring her, punishing her and making her the enemy. She was something to be controlled, not my partner in health. I was so busy listening to the experts who had all the answers, that it never occurred to me to listen to what my body wanted.

The shift didn’t happen overnight. And rightfully so. I had used and abused my body for so long, it took some time for us to rebuild the trust. Because the truth is, my relationship with my body is like any other and I needed to prove that I could honor and cherish her again. Throughout this process I learned that only I have the answers. What works for others doesn’t work for me and that’s why I struggled for as long as I did. I was looking for answers in the wrong place.

Now that I was paying attention, I could focus on what I was eating. I had to make peace with food. I spent decades making every food decision a moral judgement. This food is “good” and therefore, I am good. But every time I ate something I believed was “bad”, I was a horrible person with no willpower. Every bite was loaded with guilt and shame. I desperately wanted to only desire “healthy” foods. So instead of enjoying whatever it was I was eating, I was focused on feeling like a failure and barely tasting what was on my plate.

Upon reflection, these thoughts and beliefs were a product of years living in diet culture. I know now that there are no good or bad foods, but I also recognized that the more I restrict or make off limits, the more I want it. This is human nature. I am not broken, the system that supports these ideas is broken. Enjoying food is our birthright! And I now approach meal time from a peaceful place, with enjoyment as the main ingredient.

When I reflect on my relationship with food now, it is kind of an afterthought. In fact, I get annoyed with how neutral food is. Some days I struggle trying to decide what to eat, like it’s a chore. That right there blows my mind. At the height of my food obsession, I could never have imagined being here. And it makes me realize, it wasn’t about the food at all. It was about who I was being.

I was looking outside of myself for the answers. I wasn’t connected to my body, to my inner knowing that now supports me in more ways than I could have ever imagined. I was eating under duress, making myself wrong for every “bad” choice and feeling like a failure when it was the diets that failed me.

I’m grateful for the peace and freedom I now experience, not to mention the energy and brain space to live a life I love. What I’ve learned is food can be fuel, it can be pleasurable and should be enjoyed, but it’s also just food. The real power comes from my mindset and what I know to be true for me.

Personal Story, Self-Love
Apr, 29, 2021

Healing From Chronic Illness: Why Mindset Matters

True healing is multidimensional and includes more than the physical body. It’s a combination of nutrition, movement, self-care, sleep, etc. all of which work together to create an environment for the human body to reach optimal health. Mindset is a huge component of healing that is often overlooked in the treatment of chronic illness, yet it is the foundation of healing and it is the foundation of igniting your inner strength.

When I first became bedridden, more often than not, I was frustrated, resistant, negative, and hopeless. I was exhausted from fighting to survive, every single day. Fighting for my health was a constant challenge, from the second I woke up to the second I closed my eyes for bed (and if it was a night with high symptoms or insomnia, well that was even more exhausting). I was so depleted that it was extremely difficult to laugh, joke, or even smile most days. At the time, my mindset was most often negative – it was just my default. I felt like it took too much energy to be positive, energy that I didn’t have. I accepted positivity from others, sometimes, but I rarely truly internalized it. Slowly, I started to gain awareness of how this negativity was affecting my everyday life, my relationships, and my own healing. One day, albeit years deep into the journey (better late than never), I said enough is enough, and I decided that I was going to flip the script. It was time to start cultivating a healthier mindset.

Of course, this didn’t come easy and it surely did not happen overnight. It took a great amount of time, learning, and effort to shift to a healthier mindset, and truthfully, I believe it is a lifelong process. Throughout this journey, I have used many tools to move through difficult emotions and to cultivate a healthier mindset, such as meditation, gratitude, and journaling. I even sought help from a therapist who helped me work through deep rooted emotions and traumas. Slowly but surely, I started to feel different, a little bit lighter, a little bit more hopeful, a little bit more joy, and a lot more empowered to fight for the life I knew I deserved. Although I had already been in treatment for years, it felt like I was finally starting to heal.

Now, when I am asked what I would do differently on my health journey, I say “the number one thing I wish I had gotten a handle on sooner was my mindset.” Because in hindsight, all those years with an unhealthy mindset made my journey more difficult, more painful, more isolating, and I’ll even venture to say that it significantly increased the time it took me to heal. I’ll explain why.

Why Does Mindset Matter?

The mind and body are so deeply connected. Our bodies have a physical response to what we hear and say, out loud and to ourselves. When we are dealing with difficult situations in life, like chronic illness, it is likely that we will feel overwhelmed, upset, angry, and we might even start saying to ourselves, “this will never get better.” When persistent and if not handled properly, this type of thinking can overcome us, becoming a consistent negative mindset. Then the snowball effect begins.

A persistent negative mindset leads to excess stress, which causes the sympathetic nervous system to fire up, putting us into fight or flight mode. This fight or flight mode is great at protecting us from immediate threats and danger, but it is meant to be a short term stress response. When the nervous system is fired up like this consistently, the body thinks it is always in danger, stress hormones remain high, and the body’s normal functioning gets disrupted. In other words, healing is the body’s last priority.

For healing, especially from chronic illness, it is important that we activate our parasympathetic nervous system, also known as rest and digest mode. Our heart and respiratory rates decrease, digestion increases, and our bodies are in a relaxed, resting state. This tells us we are safe and our body has the space to do the work to heal rather than dealing with excess stress.

In my experience, I noticed that the more I cultivated a healthier mindset, the more often my body was in a restful state and the better I felt. There is great impact in shifting the mindset from negative to positive, and this shift plays a direct role in activating the parasympathetic nervous system. Healing is an inside job as much as it is an outside job; when we do the inner work to move through difficult emotions and shift towards a healthier perspective, it creates noticeable shifts in the physical body, including relieving tension, reducing physical pain, and of course reducing emotional pain. This isn’t to say that you should never feel negative feelings or think negative thoughts again. It is normal to shift back and forth, but what is most important is choosing not to stay in the negative. When we no longer let the negativity live in our body, we experience a greater sense of peace, calm, and freedom, all of which allow the body more space to heal. When we believe we can feel better, we do better. This is why mindset matters.

How to Start the Shift

The first step towards a healthier mindset is to embrace our situation. When times get tough, we often try to push the discomfort and pain away. We might feel like a victim or get stuck in the “life is unfair,” “why is this happening to me?” and “I will never get better” mindset. We disapprove of ourselves and our situation. To some extent, I think this is a normal human response, but at a certain point, our body is going to believe our thoughts. When we stay here, we are giving our situation the power and allowing it to control us, and it can cause feelings of hopelessness as opposed to feelings of empowerment.

What flips the script is when you allow yourself to feel all of these feelings, make the conscious decision not to stay there and then move through them. Here, you can embrace your current situation without all the negativity and judgement of yourself. Embracing your situation can reduce overwhelm and resistance, which in turn will reduce stress. Embracing your situation takes the power away from your illness and puts the power back in your hands. In this space, you will feel empowered to make positive shifts in your life so you can live the life you know you deserve and ignite your inner strength.

Personal Story, Wellness
Apr, 08, 2021

Creating in the Time of Corona

Re(de)fined
On the inside looking out.
An undefined space yet to be discovered.
The clock on the wall ticks and the window is just a window.
On the outside searching within.
A defined square feet of space.
Time is defined.
Before and after.
Past and Future.
Then and eventually.
The world beyond the window has changed.
Peering through to the outside.
Witnessing.
How to redefine?
The window is no longer a window.
The clock on the wall has stopped ticking.

My name is Julee Mahon and I am a dance artist. Yes, I spell my name with two e’s and no i’s, which is pretty much the perfect amount of drama and efficiency I tend to surround myself with. I took my first dance class at the age of two and a half and from then on have always described myself as a dancer.

Julee the dancer, that’s me.

As a teen I was at the dance studio 5 nights a week training and getting ready for competitions. I was then accepted into a dance performing arts program in my hometown for my final two years in high school. In fall of 2009 I moved to Philadelphia to start off my college career as a BFA Dance major at Temple University. Over my four years at Temple I met wonderful dancers, and had many performance opportunities all over the city, so come graduation I decided to stay and immerse myself into the small yet fierce arts and dance community of Philadelphia.

Now it is 2021 and I am still here. But where are the arts?

As a creative, 2020 looked very different than the one I had imagined. 2019 was full of energy and inspiration, ideas and performances. New opportunities were awaiting for 2020.

As I look back on 2020 creatively speaking it was bleak. Bleak in terms of motivation and inspiration, energy, and exploration. I found myself asking the questions:

How do I create when I am not inspired?
How do I create when I am not motivated?
How do I create when I have no energy?
Who do I create for?
Where do I find my audience?
Who is my audience?

And finally the big one; How do I create?

I felt like I lost a sense of myself. That part of me that was curious and looks to discover and move. When I dance, I have this feeling of freedom but it went away when I stopped creating. Some days I moved because I felt I had to. Other days I moved because I needed to. But most days I moved from my bedroom to the kitchen and vice versa. In 2020, I forgot what it was like to move as an artist. I felt human again, like superman without his strength. I felt I lost the part of myself that made me a dancer and an artist.

At first it was fatigue. Then it was a failure. And finally fear, that kept me from dancing.

The fatigue came when I lost sense of time. My full-time job had no start or end time. I would work until I fell asleep and I would wake up and get right back to work. The feeling of failure came when I chose to not take a virtual dance class because I couldn’t bear to stare at a screen any longer. I took one class from a teacher I admired, but staring at the screen and moving made me nauseous. It was as if my body was rejecting dance. What previously brought me immense joy was now making me sick. In order to keep my body safe I said ‘no’ to dance. That was the first time I have ever done that. I have always chosen dance. I chose dance over going to school football games. I chose dance over prom. I chose dance over boyfriends. It was always there for me, until it wasn’t.

Then came the fear. I couldn’t fail at something I didn’t even try for, right? Would I even remember how to move? That was my biggest fear.

Through journaling and support from friends, I have been able to work through my fear and my unrealistic expectations of what I think dance means to me. Now that it has reached 2021 and we are almost one year into the Corona Virus pandemic, I am looking into the new year with some clarity.

It is okay to feel fatigued, everyone does. You are not alone. It is okay to give yourself what your body needs. Failure is a myth you tell yourself out of fear. My mind was making up excuses for me to not even put in any effort. Instead of just saying NO and give myself time to rest, I said NO and then burdened myself with the guilt of it.

I needed to let go of my expectations and not be so hard on myself. I was bullying myself and didn’t even realize it. When I came to this realization I felt such a relief. I was able to think clearer and felt more confident in continuing my creative process and working my way back to Julee the dancer.

My solutions:

Buying a journal

This journal is only for dance. I like knowing that, other than my body, this journal is also a tool. A sacred tool that will hold any idea or piece of inspiration that will keep my creativity alive. Writing everything down will make it real and will get it all out of my head. This book has one rule, and that rule is there is no judgment. No matter the idea, write it down. Just write anything and everything!

Moving is moving

I was upset with myself for not dancing but at the same time shaming myself for engaging in other forms of movement. I started congratulating myself for all the movement I did. Running: you go girl! Zumba: yassss! Yoga: you stretched today! I started to teach creative movement to kids, so I could share my love of dance with the next generation! Celebrate all movements no matter how big or small. Even though it may not be a modern dance class I was still moving my body!

Prioritize dance

It is no secret I love to dance, so why not prioritize it in my life. Make time to take a class. With the online options, give yourself time to get used to it and do what you can. You can go at your own pace in your home, that is judgement free! Work your way up to masking up and taking class in person, if your community offers that. But know there is no reason to rush your own process.

getting creative

Right now with technology at our fingertips nothing is off limits. Now is the time to rewrite all the rules and expand your mind to think even farther out of the box. Art has no limit. No one and everyone is your audience. Putting work on social media platforms expands your reach and brings art to your community and beyond!

2020 has been a year like no other. I have learned a great deal about myself and about my art. I can honestly say I look forward to what the rest of 2021 will bring. I know I am not alone, I deserve to be kind to myself, and dance will always be there no matter what.

Cheers to more dancing and creating.

Creativity, Personal Story
Mar, 10, 2021

Reflecting On Pregnancy Loss

He looked over at the table where our two children sat, “Do you ever imagine what it would be like if that table was full over there?”

At first I didn’t grasp his meaning.

And then he continued, “You know, if the three babies we lost were sitting at that table too. Do you ever imagine what that would be like if they were all here—5 in total?”

This caught me completely off guard and I immediately started tearing up.

My husband doesn’t talk about those three babies a lot. In fact, it’s easy to assume that I carried the majority of that pain. But in that moment, I felt incredibly connected with him. Connected to my children, to the ones I have with me and the ones I’ve lost. Which is a rare moment… when I feel us all connected at the same time.

Meghan Markle recently released an article articulating her experience with pregnancy loss and I couldn’t help but feel empathy for her. Anyone who has suffered this unimaginable loss knows that you immediately feel connected to another who has gone through the same thing. It becomes this quiet pact; where if you’ve experienced the same thing, you can’t help but say, “Hey, I’ve been through that too.” Because it’s a loss that feels completely isolating and vast and never ending.

I felt the largest brunt of that pain with my first loss. I was consumed with depression, and it took me months to even call it that. I was quiet about the loss at first… and then I began to tell everyone who would listen, word vomiting my story, really, in order to feel some sort of connection to my lost baby and our experience.

After you experience a loss like that every pregnancy after is different. You guard yourself, afraid to let yourself hope, afraid to give that baby too much love, to give him or her too much of a future because you’re scared that it will shatter at any moment.

You get angry when you see expectant mothers glowing as they shop for their bundle of joy. Jealous when you see new mothers pushing strollers down the sidewalk with a smile on their face. You want to scream at women who get pregnant by “accident” and complain about not feeling well.

I’ve been pregnant 5 times, but only have two children here with me today.

My first baby would have been 8 years old. And the other two would have been 6 and 5. I lost the first one at 12 weeks and the next two both around 6 weeks.

For the most part I’ve moved on with my life. How can you not? But then I’ll have moments like the one I just shared where it feels like yesterday. Suddenly all the memories flood in with speed and clarity…

When the doctor told me that there was no heartbeat.

When the contractions started coming.

When I spotted the beginning of blood flow.

The never-ending tears and my husband’s face searching and not knowing what to do.

I have lost more babies than I have been able to keep… and this something that will always startle me.

Personal Story
Sep, 01, 2020

Don’t Feed The Fear

Do not feed your fear.

Fear is a low-vibration energy. And the energy you put out, you attract — whether that is low-vibration or high-vibration. So by giving into your fears, you’re inviting more of the same low-vibration frequencies. Which can show up as more fear, as anxiety, as worry and doubt.

If you’re giving into fear over and over, it is time to shift your focus. Shift your fear to excitement. Instead of being fearful of the worst case scenario, change the narrative to be excited for the best. Imagine what that best looks like. Feel what it feels like. Call it in. And allow it to come.

What am I fearful of?

I’ve been fearful of receiving harsh judgement if I fully step into my authentic self (especially by loved ones) if I pursue what interests me and what fills me up. Because the things that fill me up, that excite me, aren’t “traditional” in any mainstream sense. And to be honest, I’ll admit that they can take some getting used to, but in order to do that, you must be open. And I’m fearful that the people I love will have harsh and critical judgement against me with a complete lack of an open mind. Which makes me want to shrink and hide…

Fear doesn’t sit well in our bodies. It rots. It feels yucky. It’s no way to live. In order to switch the fear, I’m trying to focus, instead, on the possibilities.

By stepping into the life, the path, the interests that truly light me up — I will be free. Exactly the way I am. Happy. Fulfilled. And by being exactly who I was meant to be, I’ll call forth the support of a community that DOES accept me exactly as I am with no exceptions. Such a better perspective right?

Don’t focus on the fear, my dear. There is power in your thoughts.

Personal Story
Aug, 20, 2020

Breathing Through Trauma

As I breathed I was brought back to a time when I felt completely unsupported, unwanted, unneeded, unworthy of anything good… and the flood gates opened.

Your shadows and traumas are not your fault, but they are your responsibility.

If you know me, you would know that I’m pretty open to trying any holistic, natural, or alternative wellness practice or therapy. I’ve enjoyed plenty of celery juices, I collect crystals, I started learning about tarot, and have been exploring how to deepen my intuition on a spiritual level.

So, when I heard Erin was offering breathwork sessions, I was all in. Breathwork is a way to access your fight or flight response and the past traumas you have associated with that response in order to process those emotions in a safe and healthy environment. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to address when I first scheduled my session, but I have my fair share of traumas, so knew any number of things could have been brought forth.

My breathwork session with @erin was exactly what I needed. It was the safe space my body and soul needed in order to process my past traumas and see clearly how they are connected to my current triggers.

For the past week or so (prior to my session) I have felt extremely stressed and triggered. I felt this constant need to cry, but was unable to bring my full emotion forward. There was clearly a block there.

Quickly after my session started I was sobbing. Transported to one of the most difficult times of my life. It brought to light how I am allowing my present situations to control me in much of the same ways I felt controlled or stifled as a child.

The work served as a reminder that I am not that sad, angry, scared, alone little girl anymore.
I have worth. And I can take care of that little girl — my inner child — by taking care of me.
I can comfort her by comforting myself.

I can bring her joy allowing myself to feel joy.

I was reminded that I am never alone. That I can ask for help and support when I need it. That I am protected and safe and can call upon the angels and my soul team at any moment.
The thing about triggers is that they can sneak up on you in unexpected ways. In ways you would never even link back to your original trauma. Which makes this work that much more important. We all have our own shadows, traumas, demons — whatever you want to call them — and unless you face them head on and truly process them in order to cut the cords, you can never move on.

They quite literally hold you back.

At the very end of my breathwork session, I felt an energy approach, which eventually appeared as a crab. Afterwards I looked up the spiritual meaning of the crab totem —

“A sign of protection. The crab symbolizes emotions, trust, and the cyclical nature of life. At some point in a crab’s life, it dumps one shell in exchange for another, symbolizing a point of rebirth in their life cycle. By dumping excess emotional baggage, we take an active role in achieving our own happiness.”

Damn.

Personal Story
Aug, 04, 2020

Rethinking Kindness

Isn’t it ironic how often we tell our children to be kind? As a mother, I know I tell my children at least 3 times a day to be kind in one way or another.

“Please be kind.”

“Please make kind choices.”

“Be kind to your sister.”

“Be kind to your brother.”

“Was that a kind thing to do?”

You’ll notice here, that these kindness suggestions are pointing outside oneself, rather than in. A showing of kindness to another person. And while being kind to other humans is certainly a worthy attribute, I wonder if we are not missing a crucial piece here. Or maybe it is just me and my parenting habits. Do we frequently remind our children to be kind to themselves? Do we remind ourselves to be kind to ourselves?

Self-care is everywhere right now. While it is important and I am grateful that people are discussing it, maybe we should start this whole process a little earlier. Like, in childhood. Both on good days and challenging days.

How to Rethink Kindness

How do we do this? The same way we taught outward kindness, I suppose. Here’s how I attempted to do this today.

Prior to heading to a local parade, my middle child attempted to fill his water bottle by himself. While I appreciate the attempt, he ended up spilling at least 30 oz of water all over the kitchen island, which proceeded to drip onto the chairs and floor.

Now, it was just water. Not a huge deal, right? Right.

But—this happens fairly frequently. We have water puddles most days of the week with infrequent clean-up afterward. Additionally, my middle and his siblings had been quite rambunctious prior to the big spill. So Mama came in a little intense, as she is wont to do

[She being me, is still a work-in-progress, but I digress].

He was upset and struggling to clean up all the water. Seeing this, I grabbed a bath towel and began to help while requesting some information about the events that occurred prior to the spill. His siblings claimed innocence, which seemed both convenient and unlikely. I began to discuss ways to prevent this from continuing to occur (as in, ask for help or fill it directly from the faucet).

He was soon tearful. I knelt down to his level and asked him if he wanted a hug. He said yes.

I considered releasing the hug after 15 seconds or so, but decided to wait him out. During that embrace, I envisioned pouring my love into him. I also envisioned clearing any negativity from the both of us. By the end, it felt as though we were in a cocoon of safety and love. One that we could carry along with us.

After about a minute, he pulled away. I stayed down at his level and asked him what he was feeling. He shook his head and would not meet my eyes. Knowing that he tends to bottle up his emotions, I asked again and then scooped him up and carried him to the couch. I asked once more.

He replied, tearfully, “it’s all my fault.”

“What is? The water?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you think spilling water is a big deal?”

He shook his head no.

I said, “You are always allowed to feel sad or mad or whatever, but spilling water is not a huge deal. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I was just hoping to help prevent it from continuing to happen.” I looked into his eyes and then tapped his temple as I asked. “Is that voice in your head being mean?”

He nodded.

I said, “Will you repeat after me?”

He nodded again.

I used the Mel Robbins 5-second method. “5-4-3-2-1. I am allowed to make mistakes.”

He repeated, “5-4-3-2-1. I am allowed to make mistakes.”

I said. “I am loved when I make mistakes. I am forgiven when I make mistakes. Nothing is unforgivable.”

He repeated each word as I had, then breathed a bit easier.

I said, “You can do that whenever that voice in your head gets mean. Just count backward and introduce a new thought. Like ‘I am loved’ or ‘I am worthy of forgiveness.’”

He nodded.

I then said, “You know you’re not that voice, right? That voice tries to keep you safe and maybe keep you from taking risks, but that voice can also be pretty mean. You’re not that voice. You’re the one hearing it, observing it. And know that you can let those thoughts go. Right?”

“Yeah. I love you, Mom.” He said he hugged me tightly again.

I certainly am not an expert in parenting. I certainly make mistakes and get intense more often than I’d like. But I think this is an important reminder for both adults and children.

Are we being kind to ourselves? Sometimes being kind is eating an apple instead of Cheetos. Sometimes being kind is drinking water instead of wine. Sometimes being kind is going for a walk instead of playing PS4. Sometimes being kind is journaling about that trigger rather than numbing with social media scrolling. Sometimes being kind is walking away from a relationship that leaves you feeling unworthy or unlovable. Sometimes being kind is eating Oreos with your kids and laughing at chocolate-covered teeth. Sometimes being kind is forgiving yourself for mistakes, whether 7, 37, or any age at all.

I hope this can serve as a reminder that outward kindness will become much easier when we’ve been practicing inward kindness as well. Just as self-criticism can often lead to being hypercritical to those around you, I have an inkling that self-kindness would have a similar effect.

So today choose kindness—not just outward facing kindness, but inward facing kindness as well.

Love,

Parenting, Personal Story
Jul, 15, 2020

How I Beat Binge Eating

The first time that I can remember having binged, I was eight years old. I couldn’t find anyone to play with during lunch hour (the girls in my class had a habit of hiding from me), so instead, I bought a few chocolate bars from the vending machine and sat in a corner on my own. As each bar was devoured, I felt less and less upset and a sense of numbness overcame me. Food became my best friend and for over a decade, I binged every single day, if not multiple times a day.

At the age of twenty-one, I finally hit my breaking point. My binge eating had become all consuming and had stolen everything from me: my happiness, my relationships, my academic success, and so much more. I finally found the courage to speak to my doctor and to open up about the behaviours that I had been keeping a secret for so long. I was officially diagnosed with a binge eating disorder and it was then that I began the extremely challenging but equally rewarding road to recovery.

You may be asking yourself, what exactly is binge eating anyways? Common symptoms can include: eating an unusually large amount of food rapidly in a small amount of time, feeling that your eating behaviour is out of control, eating even when you’re full or not hungry, eating alone or in secret, and feeling depressed, disgusted, ashamed, guilty, or upset about your eating.

Another question that I am commonly asked is: what causes someone to binge eat? The answer varies greatly from person to person, but binge eating is commonly linked to trauma, difficult emotions, and difficult memories. Binge eating is also often the result of physical or mental restriction. Engaging in binge eating is not a choice or something that you can blame yourself for. It is simply your body’s innate way of coping and trying to keep you alive. Binge eating does not discriminate and can affect people of all ages, genders, and ethnicities. The good news is that with the right knowledge and support, you CAN stop binge eating and heal your relationship with food (even if you’ve tried a hundred different times, a hundred different ways, and aren’t feeling very optimistic).

Here is an oversimplified explanation of how to stop bingeing:⁣

STEP 1 — STOP DIETING & EMBRACE INTUITIVE EATING

It is very likely that you have been, or still are, dieting. In Western culture, there is immense pressure for women to maintain a certain weight and shape. Diets are often marketed as a way to achieve the thinness that is idealised and to avoid the fatness that is stigmatised in society. Unfortunately however, dieting does not work in the long term and actually increases your risk of gaining even more weight than you lost initially. The main reason why diets don’t work is that they prescribe far too little food. When we do not eat enough from all food groups, the body tips into a state of semi-starvation. If we do not respond to this hunger by eating, the physiological pressure to eat builds up until we are driven to eat. When we are physically and psychologically driven to eat, we often eat more than we had planned, eat foods that we had previously tried to avoid, or lose control to the point of binge eating. When this happens, we may worry about how this eating will impact our weight, diet more strictly than ever before to ‘make up’ for it, and set ourselves up for a vicious cycle to overeat or binge again. In contrast to dieting, intuitive eating is all about embracing internal cues of hunger, fullness and satisfaction. By embracing intuitive eating, you will learn to reject the diet mentality, make peace with food, and truly honour your body.

STEP 2 — LET GO OF ALL OR NOTHING THINKING

It is common for those who struggle with binge eating to think in terms of black and white. For example, you may tell yourself that you aren’t allowed any chocolate at all. As a result, when you inevitably end up eating a piece of chocolate, you will feel as though you have completely failed. Once you feel this way, it’s easy to think, “now that I have broken the rule, I may as well eat all the chocolate in my house.” The truth is that one piece of chocolate won’t change your body or impact your health in any measurable way and therefore, the most successful and sustainable approach that you can take is to accept the existence of a grey zone.

STEP 3 — COPE WITH YOUR EMOTIONS WITHOUT USING FOOD

Distress is part of life and you cannot avoid experiencing it. Among those who binge eat, it is common to be especially sensitive to intense emotions. Therefore, they utilize food as a means to manage their moods, and achieve short-term relief by avoiding or getting rid of negative feelings. It is essential to learn to tolerate and bear up under pain and distress. This means that you become aware of, and accept, yourself and your current situation in a non-judgemental way. This is when distress tolerance and emotion regulation skills are needed.

STEP 4 — IDENTIFY YOUR TRIGGERS

In order to stop bingeing, it’s critical to determine what triggers the binges in the first place. Firstly, consider what your favourite binge foods are. Next, think about what individual purpose they might be serving. What are you feeling when you’re bingeing? Are you feeling frustrated? Anxious? Are you feeling empty? Bored? Once you’ve determined why you’re bingeing, think about ways that you can meet those needs other than with food. For example, if you’re feeling anxious, you could meditate or if you’re feeling bored, you could call up a friend and go for a walk with them.

STEP 5 — GET BACK ON TRACK

It’s unrealistic to think that if you’ve struggled with binge eating for any amount of time, that you’ll be able to stop cold turkey and that it’ll never happen again. If you do experience a lapse and binge, the most important thing that you can do is be compassionate with yourself. Imagine how you would treat a friend if they confided in you that they had binged, and treat yourself with the same kindness and understanding. The second most important thing that you can do is plan your next meal and ensure that it’ll be balanced with a source of protein, carb, and healthy fat. Lastly, take some time to engage in deliberate self care whether it be physical (ex. getting enough sleep), emotional (ex. creating healthy boundaries for yourself), psychological (ex. learning something new), or spiritual (ex. connecting with nature).

Please remember that no matter what your challenges are or how insignificant they may seem at times, they are valid. You deserve to free yourself from obsessive thoughts and worries about food and your body. If you’ve been looking for a sign, this is it. This is the nudge you’ve needed to seek help and to take back control of your life. I offer a 12 week 1:1 coaching program and I have created a course designed to help you beat binge eating & find food freedom. If you have any questions or would like to learn more, please feel free to connect with me on social media or check out my website! I look forward to hearing from you.

Nutrition, Personal Story
Jul, 07, 2020

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