sick day

Hello, my lovely friends!

Unfortunately, toliveboldly is taking a sick day today -- we've been hit with a bug!

Back next week with a brand new year!

xo

letting go of Hollywood

A couple of weeks ago, I finally conned my honey into watching "Christmas Vacation".  (I know what you're thinking, who has to con someone into watching that masterpiece of a Christmas movie?!  But my dear sweetheart is a die-hard reality fan and so it takes time to convince him to watch a holiday flick rather than the latest episode of "Amazing Race".)  And, as things often do, the movie set off some holiday reflection for me. 

Basically, it comes down to this: I am Clark Griswold.

Ok, a younger, prettier, much more feminine (and probably not so angry) version of Clark Griswold.  Thanks to all of the perfect Hollywood Christmases I've watched year-after-year and, honestly, a really hilarious, joy-filled childhood (that would be me you see in that photo above wearing the always-fashionable tree-skirt... yes, the tree-skirt was a part of my traditional holiday garb), I have in my head what the holidays are supposed to look like.  The perfect tree.  The warm lights.  The perfect family photo.  The smells and sounds and traditions (all with their own Christmas soundtrack playing in the background... cue the Bing Crosby). 

But, like Ellen Griswold says to Clark, the pictures in my head, the "perfect" Christmas, well, they are ideals that no family could live up to... it's a myth.  Those high (and ridiculously unrealistic) expectations lead to disappointment and heartbreak (and sometimes tears), rather than the joy and gratitude that I so wish to cultivate.  Time and time again, I build pictures in my mind, all of my hopes and wishes and expectations thrown into one red and green basket.  And time and time again, my reality looks different. 

But, the coolest thing is that, if I put aside those idyllic Hollywood moments, the reality is better than anything I could conjure up.  Being present to my family, friends and partner creates moments that could never be replicated on the big screen.  Should my parents have attempted to plan the perfect Hollywood Christmas moments, I am sure they would have never included their daughters donning their tree skirt (a tradition that was passed down to my youngest sister just a few short years ago... the tree skirt is in well-loved tatters at this point).  Or those times when we dressed up in matching Christmas outfits and lipsyched to the Spice Girls.  Or sleepovers in each other's rooms on Christmas Eve, only to be jolted awake on Christmas morning by my brother and sister blasting Mariah Carey's Christmas album. 

The reality is that putting up the tree has always been a pain, and our family photos always have at least one moment of awkwardness in them.  Christmas morning has always been messy, the wrapping paper filling up nooks and crannies for days to follow.  And we never get enough sleep.  But the reality is so much better than anything that I could possibly imagine.  I work to remember that as I create new traditions, spend new holiday moments with my wonderful (and incredibly patient) sweetheart.

This morning, as I step off the plane in Seattle, ready for a much-too-short weekend of family and friends, I am actively working to be present, to not let myself get wrapped up in hopes and wishes but to let myself be grateful for the moment.

brilliant words

... from a brilliant woman.

.:wishing you love and light:.

voice of my childhood

"When I was a boy, and I would see scary things in the news, 

my mother would say to me,

'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.'

To this day, especially in times of disaster,

I remember my mother's words,

and I am always comforted by realizing that there are

still so many helpers - so many caring people in this world."

-Mister Rogers-

for a day with no words.

To my beautiful friends:

To be completely, brutally, authentically and vulnerably honest,

today I don't have words.

I wrote a post, deleted it.

All because nothing quite right can be said.

My most healing thoughts, prayers and love go out to

the victims, big, small and in-between, of today's shooting.

And to all of us, who live in a culture where fear,

sadness, isolation, self-protection and hatred

have created a generation of trauma.

Today, I am working hard to sit in a place of gratitude,

peace and compassion.

Each night, at dinner, my honey and I spend a moment

speaking gratitude to one another.

Today, I am grateful for more than I could possibly

begin to explain.

May the little anxieties fall away

and make room for appreciation,

love, joy, hope and healing.

the anxiety closet

For many of us, the holiday season is filled with stress and anxiety, family expectations and painful traditions.  Here's an beautiful, authentic article about how to move past our anxiety this holiday season.  Hint: it has something to do with seeing past ourselves.

beautiful, adored, true.



As this week began, I was certain that I knew what I was going to be blogging about for today's post. 

In moving to Flagstaff, I had made a commitment to wellness and had, for the first few months, carved out a sacred daily ritual, dedicated to healthy eating, daily exercise and soaking up every bit of emotional and spiritual inspiration that I could.  Blessed with the temporary gift of unemployment, I had all the time in the world to dedicate to this new passion.  I felt stronger, empowered. 

A few weeks ago, I began in a new position working for a local non-profit working with families in crisis. Honestly, I love it.  Beyond the true blessing of employment, it is challenging, heart-breaking, inspiring, educational and impactful.  Most days, I drive home inspired to learn more, connect deeply, and engage with everyone I meet in a more authentic way.

However, after months of creating daily rituals, I was jolted by the reality that my routine would completely change.  No longer would I have those long afternoons to read.  No longer could I wake up and workout.  No longer could I count on the basic daily rituals that I had fallen so deeply in love with. As my honey can attest, it was a bit of an emotional speed-bump for me, as I tested the waters of this new reality, missing my most beloved routines and forced to create new ones.  I could not figure out how to get past the loss of my much-loved routines and rituals, could not figure out how to move forward and create new habits.

This past weekend, after weeks of unhealthy, convenience-based eating and a complete lack of exercise, I hit a low point.  I found myself staring at my body in the mirror, thinking thoughts that I would not think about my worst enemies (not that I have any), and feeling like a true failure.  Where I had once felt strong and empowered, I now held tightly to the soft skin on my sides, feeling disgusted and discouraged.  My sweetheart held me, whispering softly that he wished that I loved myself as much as he did.

As the days passed and I slowly climbed out of that darkeness, struggling to remember my worth, I thought that I would be writing today about failure, redemption, starting over.

But then...

Victoria's Secret reminded me that I am beautiful, worthy, whole.

Let me explain.

Until Wednesday night, I had never seen the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show.  Honestly, I'm not sure that I even really knew that it existed until a few weeks ago, when my sweetheart and I were talking about one of his classroom discussions.  Many of the women had expressed how deeply affected they were each year when watching the VS Fashion Show, the skantily-clad and unrealistically skinny models convincing them year after year that they were less-than-enough, unworthy in comparison to our society's vision of perfection.  As the event approached, I saw similar sentiments expressed through social networks, Facebook statuses and tweets of women preparing themselves for the self-esteem smack-down they expected to receive.

And so, it was with a true psychological interest that I tuned in.  I am not sure what I expected to experience, but all I could think, the models strutting down the runway, was this...

I am beautiful. The women on TV, they too are beautiful. But my worth is not defined by their proportions. Watching the models, decked out in angel wings and lacy lingerie, I was remind that I am real, I am whole. When my sweetheart wraps his arms around me, love-handles and all, it is not my measurements that define his love.  While it's nice to hear, I don't need anyone else to remind me of my worth. My body, while cushioned and curvy, is beautiful, real, authentically me.  And to wish that I was anyone else is to deny that I am beautiful, adored, true.

"love your body the way your mother loved your baby feet
and brother, arm wrapping shoulders, and remember,
this is important:
you are worth more than who you f*ck
you are worth more than a waistline
you are worth more than any naked body could proclaim
in the shadows, more than a man's whim
or your father's mistake
you are no less valuable as a size 16, than a size 4
you are no less valuable as a 32A than a 36C,
your sexiness is defined by concentric circles within your wood;
wisdom."

 

-mary lambert, i know girls (bodylove) -

the family drama

For many of us, rather than Hollywood's version of idyllic family togetherness, the holiday season means awkward, stressful and sometimes painful family interactions... even just the anticipation of those family get-togethers can be anxiety-producing.

Here's a great article about how to work through those tough family moments during the holiday season!

Wishing you joy and peace.

xx