A few weeks ago, while at Grounds for Pleasure in downtown Tipp City, I ended up trying my first cup of bulletproof coffee, kind of by accident. I needed a restroom and ran inside, then felt awkward when the barista charmed me with her sweet smile and asked what I’d like to drink. She didn’t know I only happened to run in to use the restroom, but I think it’s because I subconsciously cannot go inside this magic shop and not order coffee. I’m an addict, after all.

So, this coffee may seem bizarre at first, because it’s made with brewed coffee, brain octane oil, and…. unsalted, grass-fed butter. Yep. BUTTER. These ingredients are mixed together in a blender until it gets the texture of a foamy latte. After hearing the talk about this stuff, I took my chance and tried it and have never been so happy with a spontaneous decision made…whilst suppressing a full bladder. It’s not only delicious, it’s also way more energizing than your standard cup of coffee. I loved that coffee. I miss that coffee. I need more of that coffee.

I’m here today to talk about how I’m learning to guard myself in this great big world full of diverse personality types. Oftentimes it’s easy to lose our identities by letting other peoples’ behaviors affect our self-worth.

For empaths and highly sensitive people, compassion can sting. When you feel so intricately connected to everything, you also feel responsible for everything and it’s almost impossible to turn away. This is because our hearts are practically leaving no room for any other organs because they’re so big and so… passionate. Sometimes it’s like your destiny is bound with the destinies of others. This is called codependency.

Therapy has taught me that many, many personal problems stem from being dependent on something, alcohol, prescription drugs, social media, technology or a relationship. But codependency mostly has to do with one person needing to feed off another person or object for emotional support, mental stability, or control. I’ve battled this with family members and friends, and whether things are perfect and peachy with them 100% of the time. I’ve been codependent on my coworkers and management. It’s a strange thing, yet, kind of normalized and ignored in today’s non-mindful, shallow world.

Being codependent has only brought on burden upon burden and heartache upon heartache. Bullet upon bullet.

Depression, anxiety, self-doubt, rejection.

Each of these bullets will march straight into your heart as if your body is hosting an open house party. They will take off their shoes, grab a cold one or brew some tea, plop down on the couch and kick their feet up, because they’ve been welcomed so freely. And welcoming them freely is never the original intention. Nobody wants these horrors! However, suffering from depression, anxiety, self-doubt and an overwhelming feeling of rejection let me realize that depending on a situation, depending on your relationship with others, is self-slaughter.

Being empathetic comes with a free package of the weight of the world. Does anybody ever consider the heaviness of the world’s weight and all of the difficulties it entails? Every person’s life, and every person’s grief, celebrations, passions, affairs, losses, trials, everything. That’s a lot of stress for a sensitive soul to carry in a backpack while trying to just make it through her own life.

Education is everything. Once I learned about narcissism, I spotted narcissists among crowds, sometimes easily, and other times, they were right under my nose and I didn’t notice at first.

I also realized I was codependent on a relationship with someone who demonstrated a few narcissistic traits. I let myself get so weak that I chased for a friendship with someone who loved to watch me beg. Even through rejection, heartache and confusion, I continued to reach out for that connection because of, well, because of my darned Mt. Everest-sized heart. I lost sleep while pondering my many faults and which combinations of them had been offensive. I let my weekends get ruined and I almost drowned in self rejection. I had to be done with all that. Talk about tiresome.

After deciding that stress doesn’t really go with my outfit, I decided to retaliate and build up boundaries. I fought back by learning and educating myself more and more about types of energy draining and toxic people, and how to ween yourself away from those who don’t care about you.

There’s a quote which says you should not cross oceans for those who wouldn’t cross puddles for you, and then there’s the opposition to that quote which states that you should cross oceans for people even if they do not care about you. I think the ocean crossing is a different task for different people. I believe in crossing oceans for those who may not cross a puddle for me but there needs to be balance in doing so. There’s much to be said about such a journey and I’m not qualified to discuss it tremendously in depth. If you wanna grab lunch or tea and talk about your ocean crossing views, I’d absolutely love to hear them and discuss. ❤

So after starting my stress-ditching trek, I chose to pick myself up, bandage my gashes, and dress in armor strong enough to defend me from the bullets, the emotional abuse of the world. To thrive, you need three bones; a wish bone, a funny bone, and a back bone. Managing wishes and humor has been my forte, (uhhhhh I think I can be funny sometimes) but the back bone has needed some extensive work. I created a little list which has helped me become more bulletproof and hope maybe it can help others struggling with their blessing/curse of sensitivity.

To effectively use the armor you dress in to defend yourself from emotional abuse, here’s a list of tactics to master:

  1. Build that backbone. You know how praying for patience means you will go through trying events which will test your patience in order to practice patience? Similarly, praying for a backbone will require encounters which test your ability to stand strong.
  2. Refuse to let anyone rent a space in your head unless they’re a good tenant. This will involve getting to know people on a deeper basis than the occasional drink or lunch date. Don’t trust people too quickly, don’t share too much with people too quickly, and don’t develop attachment to people too quickly (or at all, that’s not healthy.)
  3. Learn how to quit being codependent! Let every situation and person be exactly what or who they are rather than what you think they should be. Strive for independence in all areas, as a human in general. To fight codependency, you need to be in a healthy state mentally at all times, regardless of others and other circumstances.
  4. Differentiate between how you do and do not deserve to be treated. When you are not being talked to right or respectfully, recognize this as wrong and voice your refusal to be treated as such.

Your people-pleasing habits will deteriorate once you unlock the power within, once you don your armor and steer through life bulletproof. Sometimes this means casually covering your chest and heart area with your arm while witnessing or being involved in a heated discussion. Sometimes it means saying words such as, “No thank you,” “Excuse me, but I was next,” “I don’t appreciate that,” “Stop,” “That’s offensive,” “That’s not nice,” “I don’t want that,” “That’s unacceptable,” and being blunt in general, with grace. Sometimes it means confronting someone who drowns you in negativity and destruction and explaining your feelings directly and clearly. Sometimes it means refusing to let a conversation escalate to an argument by simply walking away. These habits are the armor. These habits are your bulletproof coffee.

I want to emphasize this does not mean abandoning those who need a friend’s shoulder to cry on during a rough time because you’re busy, this does not mean cutting ties entirely with people who need you or want you around. Each situation is different because each person is different and that’s okay. 🙂

Becoming bulletproof does not mean becoming the gun, it is simply not allowing the shots to harm you.

All the love and buttery coffee I can offer,

Lindsay

Bulletproof

The morning glow from the sparkles of the snow blanket outside, the taste of black mango tea, and this mantra: you can start over today. It doesn’t have to be a Monday or a new year to recreate yourself.

How many times have you cleared the cache in your phone, reboot factory settings, changed its theme, your ringtone, cleared out and replaced apps, to freshen things up a bit? It’s almost a ritual for me. Not only is it good for storage and organization, it’s mentally satisfying. Or maybe even like you got a brand new phone?

We need factory reset as well, regularly, and especially after an illness, as winter has graced us with the full force of a freight train. Stock up on tissues, slippery elm bark tea and vapor rub at both home and your office because, tis the season. And for the love of humanity, wash your hands regularly!

Anyway, a few ways we need reset include spiritually, socially, emotionally, physically, and educationally. Society pushes that New Year New Me vibe, but you can reset anywhere at any time. It doesn’t need to be book by book or immediate, it can be one simple change or one tiny effort at a time. Mindfulness. Choices. Health. Mindset. Environment.

Light a few candles, open the windows and welcome in the outdoor air, even if it’s cold. Clean out your closet and organize the clothing. Clean under the bed, clean out the dresser drawers, the refrigerator and cupboards. Straighten your bookshelf, dust. Wipe everything down and then sweep. This can allow for some peace of mind and even help you sleep better. When I try to sleep in my apartment and dirty dishes sit out or clutter lingers, I am unsettled. I don’t rest. Also, this is just something standard to do for when someone who loves you decides to pay an unexpected visit; no worries or embarrassment. Although they wouldn’t judge. 🙂

Prone to a bitter heart? I’ve been there, I’ve struggled with bitterness and sometimes I still do, but learning to take that demon by the horns and redirect it has been the most prosperous reward of my life. Bitterness is the root of hatred. Who do you struggle to love or accept? A particular person? A group or persons? A culture or another religion? Opposing political viewers? Stop. You’re better than that lowliness. Travel to another country. Try the food. Attend a ceremony. Force fascination and appreciation for others within your heart. Look at her! She has lungs, limbs, a nose, eyes, toes, just like you. And see him? He has veins, delicate organs, lips, fingers and pores, just like you. They’ve endured hardships you have no idea about or could hardly fathom, they have risen victorious against monsters you cannot understand. Life is but a vapor, live it lovingly.

Is your battle with nourishment? The food we eat is the fuel we give ourselves. Let food be thy medicine. The most challenging part of this is willpower. In a nation where McDonald’s is open 24 hours and meat is mass produced for those impulsive cravings of ours, it’s all too easy to kill ourselves. Yes, kill. Take care of yourself by feeding your body with foods that make it happy, berries, greens, humanely raised and local meats, almond milk. Make small changes to your grocery list. And, if you’re someone who finds cooking to be a struggle due to life’s complications, seek out a healthy meal from a smart place. Chipotle. Soup from the market. Chipotle. Salads. Salmon. Chipotle. Choose nourishment over the instant satisfaction of a Big Mac.

Are you drinking enough water? Invest in a sturdy water bottle and keep yourself and IT filled. No less than 8 cups a day. Go for a gallon a day.

Get the gym membership. Keep a gym bag in your car which consists of socks, sneakers, pants or shorts, a few shirts, sports bras, and a lock with a key for the lockeroom. Stop by on your way home from work, pop those headphones in and let loose.

Sunlight. It is hard to keep up your vitamin D levels this time of year, so check out depression lamps, pop in a tanning salon once or twice, go visit Florida for the weekend.

Fellowship. Get coffee with your friends, the right kind of friends, not those toxic people who suck the soul out of you and prey on your tender personality. Find and spend time with people who have your very best interest at heart. Have dinner with your family. Attend trivia night, volunteer, take up a pottery class. Ladies night. Invite people over or to go out. This is challenging for me because I’ve taken a major turn in who I am and blossomed into an introvert. But check in with others regularly. You are loved, your family and friends need you. Society needs you. Depression and anxiety will hold you nailed to your bed, I know this. Try anyway. If it doesn’t work, it’s okay, try again, try again. Keep trying. We need each other.

As long as we are breathing, we are capable of setting ourselves into a routine of wellness. It doesn’t have to be Monday or 01/01/2018.

Fresh Brewed Life

Every weekday morning, around 7:45 am, I drive to work. I can take the highway or the scenic route but either way, I drive directly past Dayton International Airport. And every single time all I want to do is drive in, park, and go purchase a last minute ticket.

I anticipate driving by the airport exit, it gives me goosebumps because all I want to do is take it. Take the exit! Go seek out a destination.

I have recently been visiting with a therapist on a regular basis who is nothing short of amazing. I simply go to see her to engage in talking and learning, and she’s become someone very important to me. She mentioned last week that the average ideal work schedule is 20 hours a week and that it’s highly recommended to travel often. Vacation. Relaxation. Exploration.

I have to actually restrain myself from taking the exit. Sometimes I talk myself through it! You have to go to work. You are needed. You can travel and have adventures when time allows. What if time never allows? No. No. It will allow. It will happen again.

I believe that it’s important we make it happen, not just trust that it will eventually happen. Save up. Plan. Take time off when the odds are in your favor.

I’m coming for you sometime soon, world! It just has to be when I don’t do a no-call, no-show! 😉

Another technique whichmakes it easier to drive by the airport exit… airplane coffee is terrible. Stop by Starbucks instead and get your work day started. Discipline brings reward in the future.

Away, away

The crossroads of America, circa 1999 around 7:00 pm on a Friday evening:

A mother of two washes the remains of spaghetti o’s and broccoli off the dinner plates and wipes the table clean.

“Go get your shoes on, let’s go pick out some movies,” she says to her daughters.

Their faces light up. One of them has a reddish smudge on her upper lip. They grab their grass-stained slip on’s and jump in the back seats of Mom’s mini-van, bickering about what to pick out.

It’s a three minute drive at most. The neon blue ticket stub sign with “Blockbuster” written in bold yellow letters appears, and they pull into a parking spot. The latest film releases are advertised on the window doors: Saving Private Ryan, The Wedding Singer, A Bug’s Life.

A young guy with long hair pulled back into a low ponytail sits on the curb outside and flicks the ashes off the end of his cigarette onto the ground. He pulls he antenna on his black Nokia mobile phone and calls his roommate to chat about which video game he’ll rent to play on their PlayStation.

Mom opens the door for her two little daughters and she follows in behind them. The poignant scent of plastic VHS cases subdues the faint trail of old carpet lingering inside. They each split in their own direction and search through the many aisles. Drama, action, fantasy, romance, horror, comedy, the options seem endless! DVD players were introduced about two to three years ago, but they didn’t own one so they ignored the new fad and went for what they’ve always used.

Clueless, Aladdin, Matlida, Forest Gump, Toy Story, Home Alone, Edward Scissorhands, Mrs. Doubtfire, Hocus Pocus.

How is anyone supposed to choose?

The older sister holds a handful of selected favorites. She plops on the floor, paying no mind to the soda stain she’s sitting near, and plays Eenie Meenie Minie Mo until deciding on The Sand Lot. She had first seen it at a friend’s birthday party last year, but was too distracted by Hungry, Hungry Hippos and an excess amount of ring pops to fully appreciate its baseball merit. The case was a little sticky. She didn’t care.

The younger sister found The Care Bears Movie and held on tight, nothing else caught her eye, nothing else mattered.

Mom approaches the desk and asks the manager (who wore a pin that said “BooYah”) for Hope Floats, but it wasn’t available just yet. She figured a night in with the girls watching something they picked out would be perfect anyway.

The snacks and candy are 20% off, and everyone ate their broccoli at super so a treat would definitely be in order. Tomorrow would be Saturday, so Mom didn’t mind if sugar kept them awake for an extra hour or two. Never during the weeknights though, as waking up early for school was crucial.

After grabbing Baby Bottle Pops and Wonder Balls, Mom sets everything on the counter, pulls out her Blockbuster membership card and checks out.

A magnificent pink and crimson sunset settles in on the I 70 West horizon. Before returning home, they make a quick run into Cub Foods to grab some microwavable popcorn, because, of course, savory goes perfect with sweet.

 

 

 

 

A Video Rental Recollective

“No time for temporary people.”

Settle in on the couch and take your first taste of java. Let’s meditate on that statement for a minute. How does it strike you?

To some, it may be a mantra of strength, something they tell themselves as a way to forget fleeting friends. To others, like me…this doesn’t compute. I understand that sometimes we want to forget people, maybe people who have harmed us or betrayed us. However, simply being “temporary” isn’t a good enough reason to not say, “Come in, enter! Let’s enjoy the time we have together.”

Everyone has had different experiences; some much more dismal and brooding than others. Experiences shape and change us. They change our perception of people. Situations which may alter our views on society can include trauma and tragedy, betrayal, deception, loss, harassment and intimidation.

I’m no counselor, but I simply want to express the idea that maybe seeing “temporary” people as invaluable or unimportant isn’t such a good viewpoint. All viewpoints are considered valid, but changing your viewpoint can change your overall quality of life. Talk about powerful!

Okay, so. “No time for temporary people.” What is it that makes a person temporary?

Maybe you’re traveling to another country and decide to stay in a hostel. Your fellow bunkers are temporary in your life because you’ll all go your separate ways after the trip. Perhaps you’re an exchange student living with a host family for a period of time. You’ll pack up your books and bags and head back to your home country when the time comes along.

I’ll share an example from my recent years: I did two Disney college programs, migrated down to Orlando and worked with groups of people and roomed with some fantastic ladies, and all the while I dreaded departing them. Our time was limited so for the most part, we all made the effort to indulge in loving each other, having fun together, making memories and taking pictures together.

Unless you’re Patrick Star and live under a rock, you’re going to come across all sorts of people who can be considered temporary in your lifetime. Schoolmates. Coworkers and colleagues. Gosh, even the baristas who serve your favorite drink at all the different Starbucks’ you’ll visit along your road trips and the New Yorkers who will point you in the right direction when you’re lost on the NYC subway. They’re temporary but they’re shaping our experiences!

Friends come and friends go. Some friendships last forever and some die quickly or end badly. I’m guessing the phrase “No time for temporary people” is more geared towards the friends who leave us in a flash, the ones who things don’t work out with. Sometimes friends can be so toxic and draining that it’s a relief to break ties with them. Freedom from toxicity is divine.

We tend to forget this one reminder: each person who enters and/or exits your life is either a blessing or a lesson, either way, extremely precious.

And what is time, anyway? Do we think of time as money? It’s a common saying and a common mindset…but, then, if we see time as money, and we have no time for temporary people, we must believe that we can put a cash value on humans. How disgusting is that?

Shameful, honestly.

Time is not money unless you’re working to get paid. Time is a concept that none of us have ultimate control over; we don’t decide when we are born, and we don’t know when we will die.

In conclusion, I don’t think being temporary is a reason to dismiss a person’s value to you. Nobody is truly permanent, we will all end up returning to the earth as part of the circle of life. Cue Lion King music. And you never know when the last time you’ll hug your mother’s neck will be, or when you hear your grandpa’s final cackling laugh. WE are ultimately temporary. So let us value each other and the time we have together.

Lindsay

transient

Posted in adulting, coffee, cold, learning, reading

Prologues and Coffee from Connecticut

Posted on by Coffee With Lindsay

“As Katie wound her way among the tables, a breeze from the Atlantic rippled through her hair.” 

The first sentence of a new book I started this morning. It’s gonna be a good one, a total page-turner. That first sentence just promises me so, it sends a surge of “wanting more” through to my core. (The book is Safe Haven by Nicholas Sparks, by the way. Yes, I’ve already seen the movie, yes I broke my own law of book first, movie second… but his writings are captivating, especially since I am a young woman drawn to romance!) 

As I open the cover and spot the Acknowledgements, I’m tempted to rush past and ignore them since it’s human nature to not care about anything behind the scenes. I stop, suddenly aware of how fast-paced our lives are, that we don’t stop to credit the composer or learn about the mastermind behind the discovery, goodness people, as cliche as it sounds, we do not stop to smell the roses. I prefer sunflowers, but anyway, why  not take the opportunity to gain more out of what it is you are doing by connecting with the artist, the creator? 
By reading, we are introduced to new stories, new vocabulary, greater knowledge and insight, adventure. By reading the prologue, Acknowledgements, and forwards, we learn about the influences in the author’s journey of writing their book, their struggles, the people who supported, encouraged, and taught them along the way. We learn that maybe a fictional character stems from someone who affected the writer’s daily life or childhood. We connect with the maker. 

I taste the Vanilla almond cream in my hot, Saturday morning coffee and take the few minutes to understand and appreciate the effort involved in creating the next adventure to which I entertain my soul. And I am thankful for another day. (And also for electric blankets and friends from Middle school who sent one to you because her love is unconditional.) 

🙂

Xoxo, 

Lindsay 

You ruin your life by desensitizing yourself. We are all afraid to say too much, to feel too deeply, to let people know what they mean to us. Caring is not synonymous with crazy. Expressing to someone how special they are to you will make you vulnerable. There is no denying that. However, that is nothing to be ashamed of. There is something breathtakingly beautiful in the moments of smaller magic that occur when you strip down and are honest with those who are important to you. Let that girl know that she inspires you. Tell your mother you love her in front of your friends. Express, express, express. Open yourself up, do not harden yourself to the world, and be bold in who, and how you love. There is courage in that.

  • Bianca Sparacino

Feels.

Posted in acceptance, adulting, chronic illness, coffee, spoonie

Mourning the loss of my former self

Posted on by Coffee With Lindsay


I am sick. I know I don’t look sick, but I am.

I’ve hardly been around – anywhere. I was social, very interactive with all the faces of people I love and hold dear. Internally, I’m still the same, but now I’m hindered a great deal from doing what I want and love.

While living in Florida, over a small length of time, I noticed something strange creeping it’s way into the joints of my hands. I visited an orthopedic and mentioned some concern of potential fibromayalgia, a chronic pain disorder. He laughed it off and responded with, “No, no, you’re too young for anything like that.” Phew. Okay, cool. I followed his instructions of treating discomfort with ibuprofen and wearing wrist braces as needed.

Life went on and we moved back to Ohio. My aches and pains came and went and I bottled them up and buried them deep, hidden away. I began dropping things and there were moments when my hands would feel non-existent due to the numbness. I began to cry while shifting positions in bed as I slept at night. I began losing hair, having trouble concentrating, experiencing shortness of breath and difficulty simply going about my day. Something was wrong and I knew it.

When winter came along, I suddenly could no longer walk without help, I could not button my shirts, turn on the water faucet, or open toothpaste. This was the scariest feeling, an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

I went to a new orthopedic who referred me to a rheumatologist. I prayed constantly during my long wait of getting an appointment, and the fear of the unknown was smothering.

In January, I was introduced to an angel. I sat in the office of Dr. Maria Thomas-John. After having blood work done and reviewing the results, Dr. Thomas-John looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “Your rheumatoid factor has come back positive, and I am so very sorry.” I was also, funnily enough, diagnosed with fibromayalgia. I hold a deep, bitter grudge towards that orthopedic who laughed it off when I asked about that, and I still hold that grudge and I’m still trying to just let that go and move forward with treatment.

There is no cure for rheumatoid arthritis, commonly known as rheumatoid disease, since it is way more than arthritis. It’s a chronic, inflammatory disorder affecting the joints, skin, eyes, lungs, heart and blood vessels. RA is an autoimmune disease; my immune system mistakenly attacks my own body tissues.

Suddenly, I became defined by “suffers from chronic illness” rather than “writes stories, cooks, plays the flute, travels the globe” and all the other things that should define me.

It’s so hard to articulate the frustration of chronic pain. So many conversations with doctors focus on relief and ways to cope. I hate being in pain but even more, I hate that it stops me. It limits me. I have to stop whatever I’m doing while it sends me off to bed, clutching at heating pads and feeling deeply, deeply unfulfilled. The emotional impact of pain can often be worse than the pain itself.

Nobody really talks about what happens when you’re sick and you don’t get better but you don’t die, either. You get to live in the margins. There’s no getting better, no room for the chronically ill. Getting overwhelmed by little things like showering or cleaning is not how I want to spend my life. Sometimes the weight of the things I am no longer able to do hits me in the chest. Illness has taken so much from me. There is no way I could work at Disney and endure all that comes with being a high energy, over the top, enthusiastic cast member while on 9 medications and bones that fail me.

However, I bleed optimism, and being stricken with something as traumatizing as an incurable chronic pain disorder will not cloud my cheerful heart. Life is good. People are good. God gave us animals.

I know there will still be pain even after treatment and lifestyle changes. It can be managed, just not cured. It impacts your ability to follow career dreams, to interact the way you want with people, to do the simplest of tasks. It does not play fair. I need to become stronger and learn my limits. Family and friends won’t always understand the emotional impact fibromayalgia and RA has on my life. I literally mourn the loss of my former self.

I get tired of seeing disappointment in the eyes of others so I often force myself to use all my energy into making people happy. I want to be there. To support and congratulate you. To admire, encourage, catch up and have fun with you. However, my bones tell me otherwise. It’s very heavy balancing work, friend’s expectations, and family responsibilities without triggering a flare.

As I sit here staring down my newly prescribed bottle of methotrexate, a chemotherapy pill, for those who don’t know, I wait for my next appointment. I wait for the next step, I pray for answers. Lately, my favorite form of therapy has been when I catch a glimpse of children hop on their school bus and head off to a land of learning and growing. I can see myself at that age again, as a little girl, and I talk to her. I tell her all about life’s unexpected road blocks, and I let her know it is going to be okay.

Sometimes living with chronic illness means surviving off a steady diet of blind hope and patience.