I recently started writing a series in which I told the story of how I reconnected with my past love. If you haven’t read them, you can find parts 1-6 linked at the bottom of this post. This piece picks up just after we reconnected for the first time and discovered neither of us had been able to let go.

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I looked out the window of the plane and watched the clouds blur through my welling tears. I missed him already.

Saying goodbye to him that morning was heartbreaking, but at the same time filled with such promise and hope.  The two-day business trip was not nearly enough time make up for over a year apart or communicate enough to make certain that we were both on the same page.  We knew we’d be talking every day and both agreed that a visit South as soon as possible was the plan. I was a little weirded out that I was crying and a lot baffled by how tired I was. I didn’t mean to conk out on the flight, but I totally did.

By the time my flight landed, my fatigue had evolved into the full-blown flu. The kind of fuzzy-headed, feverish, body-aching and bone-crushing fatigue flu that saps all coherence and ability to cope with stress. After weakly trudging through the airport and multiple football field’s distance to my car, I didn’t notice the stunningly gorgeous coral sunset hues… I just knew I felt like roadkill.

As I was driving off the airport property I was full-body shivering with chills and the oncoming headlights felt like needles through my eyes. It took every ounce of effort my body could summon to drive myself safely home. When I gratefully walked through my door I dumped my overnight bags and purse at the door, stripped my travel clothes off mid-stride and bee-lined to my beloved bed. I only paused long enough to thumb out a quick text to my love that I was home and then promptly passed out.

I awoke 10 hours later to the sound of a text message. Jolting upright, I realized I was late for work. The pain stabbed through my face and I flopped back down onto the pillows with a groan. I weakly grabbed my phone, held it up over my face while blinking through my crusty contacts and typed a quick “I’m sick” email to my boss.  Then I hobbled to the bathroom to peel the contacts off my dry eyeballs and scan my medicine stash for anything useful. Afrin? No, my sinuses are clear. Advil? YES, GOD MY HEAD HURTS. TheraFlu? YES!! Wait… it’s expired??? Bullshit. That should be illegal. Motherfucker. And that was the extent of my stash. Finding my thermometer among the bottles, I popped that bad boy under my tongue to assess the damage.

102.5.  Oh, boy.

I popped three Advil and whimpered as I crawled back into bed, praying to whatever was out there to magically bring me soft food and medicine.  Times like these is when it really sucks to live alone.

A few hours later, my sister-in-law called. Hers had been the text I didn’t answer that morning. Being a mom herself, she quickly assessed how sick I was and asked me for my status was on food and meds. “None and Advil.” Her response was “Screw that. I’ll be there after work with supplies. Sleep and hydrate until then. Love you.” Prayer answered.  Like an angel, she came through with TheraFlu, cough drops, Jello, applesauce, Gatorade, bendy straws, chicken soup and aspirin. That’s love, people.

The sustenance revived me enough to check my phone again. Shit, two missed calls from him. I hit “Call Back” and felt the zing in my belly when he answered, “Hello, gorgeous.”.

He too, quickly assessed the extent of my illness and when I told him that I’d had help from my sister-in-law he said, “Aw. I hate that I’m so far away. That’s my job…. I want to be the one to take care of you.”  The tears started again, much to my astonishment. Because as much as we hate to admit it, all any of us strong, independent, hard-headed women want sometimes is to NOT have to take care of ourselves. To feel as completely rotten as I did and then to hear him say that? It completely undid me.

Of course with him being a male, hearing female tears over the line and being unable to comfort me made his head explode with helplessness. I quickly reassured him that no, these were good tears. That I missed him so much already and wished he was there, too. I told him how much it meant to me to hear him say that. But after we hung up, I pouted. Because I missed him, yes. But I also wanted to enjoy reliving the past two days in my mind and over-analyze and worry over every detail until it became a polished stone, like every other normal girl, but my poor body left me no choice other than to rest and recover. So I did.

Three days later, the flu was almost gone and he had purchased a plane ticket to come visit me. On Valentine’s Day. Under a month away.

Maybe it was the flu that made him buy the flight so quickly. Maybe it was my pitiful tears. Or maybe, just maybe…… he’s serious about us.

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The Unfinished (Part One)

Sharp Edges (Part Two)

Jugular Exposed (Part Three)

The Answer (Part Four)

Lost and Found (Part Five)

Pink is a Choice (Part Six)

So just now, I was laying in bed at 3pm on a Saturday after brunching and boozing it up with a friend, trying in vain to nap off the copious amount of carbs I just consumed. Did I ever tell y’all that I cannot nap to save my life? I never learned how, which is bollocks. And while I was laying there unable to sleep, I decided to roll my buzzed self out of bed and write this post instead. So excuse the ADD-ness of my writing. Blame the Bloody Mary and 2 mimosas. Moving on…

I met Shannon here on the interwebs, through Yeah Write. They hosted a grid for NaBloPoMo, where you have to write a blog post every day for 30 days. We at the Yeah Write grid were assigned rowmates, or “rowmies” as we called ourselves, and that let us get to know each other very well. When you read the words of one person every day for 30 days, you learn a lot. Shannon and I have kept up with each other since. She’s kinda awesome.

Well, Shannon’s recent post about body image as it relates to ourselves and our offspring (current or future) inspired me. Oh, and if you really want some bravery and aren’t too uppity about bodily functions, she wrote about pooping in front of your spouse, too. F’ing hysterical.

But back on track, Peach… along the lines of loving yourself as you are, I’ve gotten a lot of inquiries lately about how I’ve been handling the adjustment to showing my face on this here blog.

I must say, it’s been wonderful. Freeing. Not only do I no longer have to chop my head off of every pic I post here or on Instagram or Twitter, but y’all for some reason think I’m not horrific-looking. Yay for moi.

No, seriously. I cannot thank my readers enough for the support you’ve shown me. It goes a long long way with me that you loved me for my words when I was anonymous, but you love me even more now that you can put a face to the stories. I’m happy I had the courage to do the big reveal and have no regrets. Here are some more of me lately, just for good measure, and because Shannon gave me the ladyballs to post em. This is me. Dorkiness and sweatiness and all.

Last night I was watching the Super Soul Sunday that featured Brene Brown appeared. She and Oprah were speaking of identifying the most terrifying emotion out there… JOY. Why joy? Joy is happy. But with utter, incredible, mind-blowing joy comes fear. Fear that this indescribable joy is short-lived or undeserved, and will end as suddenly as it appeared. It’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, because there’s no way in hell anyone deserves to be this happy.

Remember my post when I thanked the Universe in shouty capitals for all the good things hitting me lately? Yep – after I wrote that, so many of you commented how happy you were for me and I was flying on the high. Well, like Brene said to Oprah, you have to grab onto those moments of joy and be grateful in the moment. Do not take them for granted, not even a little bit. And I did appreciate them. For a little while. But I crash-landed pretty soon after that.

This cannot possibly last. 

Something bad will happen soon.

What if everything falls apart, when I’ve worked so hard to get here?  

Brene calls it “foreboding joy”. It’s when we try to self-destruct our own happiness because we think we don’t deserve it.

And it’s bullshit. We have to live our lives and BE NEKKID. We need to put ourselves out there, exactly as we are, into the unknown, living through the unexpected and dealing with the messes as they come. We should be posting pictures on our blogs of our faces and bodies despite our ridiculous insecurities of our physical makeups, because what matters more is who we are and what we have to say. We should be saying and doing exactly what makes us happy. And we should be finding the love and the laughter in our people that truly see us, each and every day.

Yes, I was pretty down in my last post. But I’m not the type to wallow for long. Instead, I’m focusing on the whos and the whats that are most important, instead of what judgments may or may not be passed down. To be happy. Right now.

Brene says to show up and be seen.

I say to show up and be seen, and while you’re at it… be nekkid. It’s more fun.

I could see the contempt in her eyes. She only half-listened to me telling the story of how I’d reconnected with my past love. As I continued to speak, I didn’t let on that I noticed her shifting eye contact every so often from mine to stare pointedly at another friend across the table who’d already heard the news. If her capital-L Look could talk, it would’ve screamed with disdain, “Can you BELIEVE this shit? Why is she being such an idiot?!?”.

After spotting her Look two more times, I kept my face neutral and wrapped the story without much detail. Her forced congratulations and smile had only the faintest tinge of restrained sarcasm.

It’s that Look that still haunts me.

I know I should not care. I should float onward in my pink cloud of happiness. I should tell myself to dismiss the opinions of assholes someone who does not truly know me or the extent of our story. I should laugh at the ridiculousness of small people with big attitudes.

But the hurt still lingers.

She wasn’t the first to fling cynicism in my direction and I know she won’t be the last. It would’ve been impractical to expect 100% support from everyone in my circle when I revealed this plot twist. I counted on some backlash. I knew there’d be raised eyebrows, a few snide comments, and more than a little rehashing of the relationship’s blemishes. Those with whom I was most afraid of sharing the news? They shocked me with their immediate acceptance and genuine delight in my joy. Others that I didn’t even fathom as a potential risk have been the ones to blindside me with sarcasm, negativity or in worst cases, both.  Luckily, the latter of the reactions have been the exception.

But as exciting as it’s been to tell everyone the news, it’s also fucking exhausting to feel like I have to don medieval armor and go to war to convince people that I’m sure our love is what I want. I shouldn’t have to do that. Not for anyone.

The most difficult days have been when my emotional shield is not very strong. In those times, when I’m feeling vulnerable and don’t have the ability to raise my heart-fists for protection, I simply want someone to say (and mean) that they are happy for me. When my feelings receive yet another unasked-for slap, that is when I struggle the most with this entire scenario. On these very bad days, I’m lucky that I only have to pick up the phone to feel the balm of his love cover my bruised heart.

We, as humans, we judge. We size up one another’s lives, loves, jobs and kids. And for what? To compare their stuff with our stuff? To make ourselves feel better (or worse) about what we have (or don’t have)?  To voice our own assessment of someone else’s life choices, so that we can be “right” by our own definition of the word? At the end of the day, what is the end result of all this comparison, other than unneeded and utterly destructive self-criticism? Or on the flip side, is it belittling others purely for personal pride?  It’s absurd, yet we are all guilty to some extent.  I only wish I were brave enough in the moment to ask these judgy people if their love stories were completely without trials and tests. If they managed to somehow never screw up a day in their lives. Or if they’d never gone through a period in which they struggled mightily with their own demons.  Because I’m damn sure that they are no better or worse than I. No one is immune from life’s face-plants.

The only conclusion that I keep landing on is this: I cannot live my life or make my decisions simply to please others.  I need to accept that in what should be a time of celebration, not everyone will be genuinely happy for me. Instead, I should focus on how blessed I am to have the love and support of the large majority of my crew. And of course, revel in the love of a very good man who feels like he’s won the lottery every time he makes me laugh. Which is often. Lucky me.

Judge me if you want. I still win.

Look, we all try. We try to get to Whole Foods to buy the grass-fed beef and pasture-raised chicken eggs and organic raw unsalted almonds.  But let’s be real.

Ain’t nobody got time for that.

We’re all busy. And sometimes no matter how hard we try, we’re faced with let’s say, less than optimal food choices. The next thing you know, you’re elbow deep in a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch at 10pm because that’s all that’s in the house.  And also, SO GOOD.

That’s where this post comes in.  Sometimes you just don’t feel like cooking a crazy elaborate dish. Or you didn’t have time to throw together a crock-pot meal that morning. Or you’ve just returned from the gym after a hard workout and YOU. ARE. HANGRY.  <–Me, most of the time.  What can you throw together that 1. has ingredients that don’t require a trip to a specialty store 2. is affordable 3. easy to throw together and 4. is a healthy and tasty *nutritious* meal?  It’s not impossible.  Trust me.

Let’s start with two recent discoveries: Thin ‘n Trim Italian Chicken Sausage and Rao’s Homemade Marinara.

2 links = 24g protein? Awesome.

No junk, preservatives, added sugar or chemicals up in here!

These two products turned out to be quite delicious and highly versatile!  I love that they are both mostly (if not all) free from a chemical shit-storm of preservatives. Yes, the chicken has a bit of sugar (less than 2%) but does not have added nitrates. I compared the sodium count of these to another brand that starts with a J and it was 4 times less. Less bloating and water retention? Yes, please. And Rao’s is amazingly free of anything non-natural – check out the ingredients on the label!

Here are a few examples with these bad boys:

Italian Chicken Sausage and Veggies Bowl [Paleo, Gluten Free, Optional Dairy Free]

1. Slice 2 links sausage, throw in a large saute pan to heat both sides through and brown.
2. Add 1 TBSP olive oil, 1 zucchini squash and 1 yellow squash, sliced. Cook until veggies are done to your liking.
3. Place sausage and veggies in your favorite bowl.
4. Top with 1/4 cup warmed Rao’s Marinara.
5. (Optional) add 2tsp grated parmesan

Italian Chicken Sausage with Kale [Paleo, Gluten Free, Optional Dairy Free]

1. Follow all steps above, except use 2 cups frozen kale instead of squash/zucchini

 Italian Chicken Sausage Breakfast Scramble [Paleo, Gluten Free, Dairy Free]

1.  Slice 1 link sausage, throw in a large saute pan to heat both sides through and brown.
2. Add 1 serving of leftover veggies into the pan. This morning I had a combo of squash, zucchini, mushroom and onion.
3. When those are heated, scoot the veggies to one side of the pan and add 1/3 cup All Whites and 1 whole organic egg.
4. Let the eggs set up a little before you mix everything together. Cook to desired doneness.
5. Serve with 1/4 avocado and 2TBSP organic salsa

340 calories, 31g protein. BOOM.

Another new addition in my repertoire are Laughing Cows. Previously, I’d only used them as a topping on an English muffin. But Carrotsncake posted a recipe that inspired me to try them as an ingredient in veggie and meat combos… and whoa, I’m glad I did. I’ve been adding a little bit of dairy back into my diet and these really help fill that craving for something cheesy/creamy. Thanks, Tina!

Cheesy Beef and Veggie Bowl [Gluten Free]

1. Brown 1lb grass-fed beef. My local Kroger carries Maverick Ranch 91/9%. If you can’t find grass-fed, use the highest quality organic beef you can find. This beef is super lean and needs seasoning, but don’t go overboard with the salt shaker. I used Mrs. Dash’s table seasoning and a few shakes of good sea salt. 
2. Do a quick sautee of some veggies or microwave a package of Steamfresh Broccoli Florets. I did both for this one.
3. Combine beef and veggies in your favorite bowl. Are you seeing my trend towards bowls? I really am a large child. Or I just prefer to shovel my food in.
4. Top with 1/4 avocado and 1 wedge of Laughing Cow Light Swiss and mix well
5. (Optional) 2tsp grated parmesan

Turkey Burger Veggie Spaghetti “Alfredo” [Gluten Free]

1. With a knife, stab some holes in a small to medium spaghetti squash. Rrawrrr, stabby!
2. Pop in the microwave and cook on high, 6-7 minute on each side. Squash should “give” when it’s done. 
3. In a small skillet, cook one frozen turkey burger until completely done. I use Jennie-O’s. Are these the “cleanest” turkey burger out there? I’m sure not. However, big picture? It’s not like we’re speeding to Five Guys. Less-than-clean is way better than completely derailing. Give me something better to beat myself up about. Sheesh.
4. When squash is cooked, cut in half and dethread with a fork.
5. Put about 1-1.5 cups spaghetti squash into a bowl.
6. Top with any leftover veggies or nuke up some frozen veggies from the freezer.
7. Add sliced turkey burger
8. Throw in a wedge of Laughing Cow – any flavor of your choice. Mix until cheese is all melty. MMMM.
9. I topped with avocado and a teeny bit of parmesan.

Not so pretty, but so so tasty.

Hey, how did THAT get in here? These were my Cake Batter Birthday Pancakes. I guess they’ll serve as the “dirty” in this post.

Lastly, MIX IT UP! These combos above can be altered in any way, depending on what your taste buds are asking for and what you have readily handy in your kitchen. Get used to using your staples (quick/lean protein, easily prepared veggies), then play with the flavor combos. Example: I had a tiny bit of Rao’s left, a serving of veggie saute and some leftover roasted Brussels Sprouts. All I had to do was cook one turkey burger, combine all ingredients, and dinner was done. But I could have also subbed a Laughing Cow for marinara, OR made a turkey burger and veggie egg scramble.

Hope these recipes help some of you busy bees out! It’s been a huge help to me in avoiding my sugar binges late at night. Don’t let this be you.

What’s your go-to quick and dirty meal? 

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever had for dinner? (Like Cinnamon Toast Crunch…) 

The office’s ugly chair was as uncomfortable as always. All the better to provoke emotional spillage.

“So, how was your trip up North?”

I stopped myself from fidgeting.

“Surprising. I reconnected with my former boyfriend. We hadn’t spoken in over a year.”

My therapist’s frazzled eyebrows lifted. “That’s big! Did you intend to see him, or was it accidental?”

I thought of the moment in the car. “No, I reached out. I had things I needed to say to him.”

“I see. And what did you tell him?”

I grinned at the still-vivid memories of our dinner. ”Everything. I told him the truth and held nothing back. He listened and he heard me. It was such a relief!”

“Well, I think that’s a wonderful step in your healing process! How did you leave things with him?”

I felt the grin fade. I hesitated for a moment, then the scary words spilled out. “We didn’t really “leave things”. It turns out, he still loves me. Even after I moved here, he never let go. He waited for me. I’m still in shock from that.”

“Okay, and you’re thinking about trying again with him?”

Steeling myself, I said quietly but firmly, “All I know is that what I have with him, I’ve not found with anyone else. Ever. Not before him. Not since him. I haven’t been able to move on any more than he has.”

I waited for her reaction as a child fears a fist.

She looked at me for a long moment before she spoke. “I believe you. It’s all over your face how much he still means to you. So, what are your next steps?”

Safer now. “We’re going to start slowly. He’s coming to visit me here. He arrives next week.”

“How exciting for you! What’s the plan for his visit?”

The smile cautiously returned. “Eat barbecue. Drink beer. Just be with each other. We need to re-learn each other and figure out if the ‘new us’ will work.”

“I think that’s a very good plan. Just enjoy your time together.”  She clasped her hands over her polyester’ed crossed legs and smiled at me pleasantly.

That’s it?

“Wait, you’re not going to be judgy and tell me I’m making a mistake and that this will never work and I’m an idiot girl for trying again with an ex?”

“Peach, that’s not what I do. I’m here and I’m listening and I’m on your side. If other people in your life are being overly critical, I’m sorry. They shouldn’t. This is your life and your choice. And if he makes you as happy as what I’m witnessing here in front of me, it’s a good choice.”

My mouth was still open when she continued. “Speaking of which, our time is about up. I have to be honest, you’re not much good to me right now from a therapist’s point of view.” She winked at me. “You’re just floating around in one big pink cloud and you’re going to be there for awhile. It’s really lovely to see, but why don’t you come back sometime next month?”

The baffled amusement stuck as I rode the elevator to the lobby.

Floating around in one big pink cloud? Yep, that about sums it up.

But I left that day more surprised at my own anticipatory self-preservation than by her unblinking acceptance of my choice. She was right.  My life. My choice.

I choose to be happy.

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The rest of this series can be found here:

The Unfinished (Part One)

Sharp Edges (Part Two)

Jugular Exposed (Part Three)

The Answer (Part Four)

Lost and Found (Part Five)