I used to hate dinner time. Frustration would build up as I looked through my kitchen cabinets with anxiety over what to prepare.

You see, as a Yoga practitioner and a teacher my options were pretty limited, or so I thought. Quinoa with greens? or tofu and greens? or greens and greens? Was mustard okay? Would coconut oil add more flavor? Digging through my fridge to find something with flavor became a nightly chore.

I rationalized, I pondered and then I told myself as long as it came from Whole Foods then it must be okay, right?

I had completed my Yoga teacher training and saw most of teachers and fellow students munching on mostly greens followed by a splash of Kombucha so I knew the drill. In an effort to become more like them I nixed meat from my diet, ditched dairy, and said good bye to my beloved desserts (I LOVE chocolate). Next I went and stocked up on greens, chia seeds and nut butters.

I even acquired a taste for the very fermented Kombucha drinks, which I actually still like today.

A few months into my new diet I noticed my skin looking paler, hair a little dull and my sleep cycles were off. I used to doze off minutes after my head hit the pillow like the sound sleeper I have been my entire life, but now I would toss and turn waking  at night staring at the ceiling.

Its no biggie I told myself as I noshed on some Ezekiel toast with cashew butter the next morning, longing for my days of a yogurt smoothie or caramel macchiato.



What’s a girl to do? Drink more green juices? Yes – that must be it. I probably wasn’t getting enough greens. Nevermind that my stomach always seemed a little bloated afterwards. It was good for me. At least that’s what all the articles said and everyone around me drank them constantly so back to Whole Foods I went to stock up on more green juices.

More is better. Right?

Fast forward another month. I was at an Italian restaurant with my boyfriend at the time and I had a bite of his steak. He did the little incoming airplane move and I’m pretty sure I stopped him midair with a giant chomp. I even took a few more bites until guilt made me stop. I was actually afraid someone might see me. So I made a deal with myself that I wouldn’t eat any more meat that night but I would indulge in a little dessert.

My sweet tooth has never been sweeter. I inhaled tiramisu and even allowed myself some gelato. This must be what heaven is like I thought as I sipped an after dinner espresso in taste bud bliss.

So I fell off the wagon once. It happens.

I rationalized all the guilt away with promises to myself of more green juices and seeds to come. The only problem was my body refused to comply with me. My willpower was nowhere to be found and my taste buds had developed hulk like strength.

I was having such a hard time trying to figure out what to do that I found myself absentmindedly going through the McDonald’s drive thru for a hot fudge sundae. How did I get here? It’s like my body had been hijacked, but it demanded dairy and there was no way around it. So more guilt piled on along with more promises of a better tomorrow.

If you have ever been on a diet then you know how exhausting it is to have to think about food, portions, labels, organic, cage free, grass fed, gluten free, free free free.

I was sick and tired of thinking about it. I wanted sushi, pizza, and ice cream damnit.

So I gave in.

My jars of nut butters, chia seeds, and wild grains sat in my pantry collecting dust for weeks while I indulged in exactly what I wanted.

Chocolate – Check

Jif Peanut Butter and Jelly – Check

Oreos – Check

Twizzlers – Yes please!

I can’t pinpoint exactly when but I woke up one morning realizing I had slept through the entire night and felt rested. My energy was up and my muscles felt a  less achy than usual.

More importantly, I wasn’t thinking about food. In fact my entire eating schedule had changed without me even orchestrating it. I was barely hungry in the morning, usually satisfied with coffee until about 11am, after my daily practice, when I would have some yogurt and honey.

If I felt really hungry by 2 or 3pm then I would have lunch and dinner might be a hot soup and some toasted garlic bread. I was satisfied and my cravings were gone along with my bloated tummy.  I discovered that what I really liked were cooked vegetables, not raw.

Yoga is supposed to be about listening to your body. It took me months of a lot of humble listening to restore harmony in my system. I am in no way mocking a healthy diet and I absolutely understand the importance of food labels especially when it comes to food allergies. I’m allergic to almonds so I still have to pay attention to ingredients especially in certain baked goods.

Balance is a tricky thing. The best advice I have gotten when I find myself out of balance is to slow down and pay attention. Your body has infinite wisdom so if you slow down and pay attention it will let you know exactly what it needs. It may not come packaged in what current trends are advertising but you will be a lot happier and healthier by following your truth and acknowledging your  body’s needs.

Love your body and it will love you back. Namaste.








Fountain or Drain?

Sometimes it feels like there is no space in my life for me. My goals, my dreams – everything has to sit on the backburner because I am busy cleaning up someone else’s mess.


Whether it’s the dogs or my boyfriend, I might as well be a 24 hour maid. Occasionally I find extra pill crushers too, or a rolled up dollar bill. So why is everything such a struggle? I ask myself this question more and more often. Don’t we want the same things? Because if we do, then shouldn’t this relationship be easier?

Life is messy when you are on drugs. Things get lost, things are easily forgotten, and procrastination becomes a daily habit. He takes the pills to numb himself even though he says he doesn’t need them. He just wants to ‘have fun’.

So where do we meet? And how do we connect? What binds us? I ask myself these questions every day. Is it love? We are in love, yes. But is love enough to sustain this relationship forever? Who gets worn down first? Because surely I am picking up more than half the slack.

It takes more than love to sustain a relationship. It takes patience, understanding, making adjustments and compassion. Sometimes tough love is necessary but without meanness. It has to come from a good place.

But if he is in love than he must be happy so why the drugs? What is making his life so unbearable? At times the confusion is so overwhelming and I know he feels it too but his way of dealing with it is simply to NOT.

This has forced me to reexamine my life and my relationship with God or my Higher Power. I used to have more time to nurture myself and my relationship with something greater than myself but that voice has been silent for a long time. It has been a tough lesson in evaluating where I am and where I want to be.

Carving out even ten minutes a day to sit in silence has become crucial at this point. I need the stillness to reflect and reassess. I can’t be a fountain forever can I? And he can’t be a drug addict forever can he? Doesn’t it get old? Doesn’t he want a live a life free of depending on something that is slowly destroying his body?

There has been some progress but when you are the only sober person in someone’s life who has addiction issues you are biting off more than you can chew.  I realize I may not get all my answers right way, but asking the questions are a release just as taking the time to nourish my mind and body is important.



Boyfriend 2.0

Did I mention I have the perfect boyfriend? My boyfriend rocks – literally. Every morning and every night he tells me he loves me. He is a great parent to our three dogs and dinner is always served when I get home from work.

But when he’s on coke he’s an A +++ PLUS boyfriend. In addition to his usual routine, he vacuums, spit shines the house until its sparkling and organizes his closet like someone with OCD.

I barely recognize him on coke. In fact the difference is remarkable and I have seen a lot of people at both at parties and clubs on coke. Coke has the opposite effect on him and is nothing like the painkillers.

He is serious, quiet, introspective and almost docile on cocaine.  This is why I am convinced that addiction is a mental disease. Even if I try to press all his buttons and act like the kind of girlfriend that would make you cringe, he is still the perfect gentleman. Never once does he lose his temper and he is overly protective of me to the point where I have to tell him to relax.

Go figure.

When he’s sober he teases me for being a square. I don’t take it personally because it has always been my anxiety that has prevented me from dabbling in drugs. My fear of committing to a drug that could hold me prisoner for hours on end terrifies me.

I always like to know exactly where the EXIT signs are and I have yet to come across a drug that has a five minute life span. Something I could literally sample or dip my toe into the pool and test the temperature before diving in.

My fear is when the coke gets mixed with painkillers. This is a deadly cocktail from what I’ve been told. And when the coke doesn’t allow him to fall asleep he will snort a small line of a blue pill to take the edge off. His brother has warned him about the dangers of mixing the two and my anxiety goes through the roof when I see this.

He assures me he is fine but I’m afraid he won’t wake up. Like all things addictions shift and change. Like trading Twizzlers for Snickers. I know he wants to do less drugs. We even have refrigerator magnet where he wrote ‘Do Less Drugs’ as a goal.

But I want zero drugs. Every week I see him battle between where he is and where he would like to be. I will only support his healthy habits and in turn have taken more time to nurture myself. I’m on a mission to get him into a Yoga class at least once so that he can get a taste of how deep breathing and focusing inward can benefit him.

I have also decided to go back to teaching Yoga as well. Not full time, but at least a couple classes a week. In a way I’d like to set an example for not only him but for myself. A reminder that you always have a choice. And it’s okay to feel your feelings instead of numbing yourself with drugs and alcohol.

I love him but I know I always have a choice.


BRB Babe

I hear these words a lot. Accompanied by the sound of keys and before I get a chance to ask where he’s going or exactly how long ‘brb’ is going to take, he’s gone.

It used to be that he would take an hour or two at a Dotty’s, which is a local gaming bar. I would call and text asking why was he taking so effing long? BRB means a five to ten minute trip to me but to him it could mean an all nighter at the bar dropping hundreds of dollars into a machine I’ve grown to hate.

There was one night where he said he was going to McDonald’s across the street from us to get me a hot fudge sundae. It would have been a brisk five minute walk but he took the car and guess what? It was the longest McDonald’s run in history. It took two hours and I never got the stupid sundae. Did I mention it’s next door to another popular gaming bar?

Gambling used to be one of our biggest fights. He would feed one twenty dollar bill after another into a machine that would light up, blink a bunch of times and then ask for more. I would watch those numbers on the screen dwindle, feeling my heart sink and unable to comprehend why anyone would take their hard earned money and basically throw it away.

He told me to be more positive because it was affecting the energy of the machine. I laughed really hard at how ludicrous that was which just pissed him off. He actually told me to leave because my negative energy was affecting the machine. These are the moments I have to ask myself if I’m an enabler.

So is living with an addict like babysitting a giant kid? It feels like it most of the time. Some of my good traits have rubbed off on him because he barely gambles anymore compared to last year, but now painkillers have substituted the gambling. And in a big way.

I work, I clean and I pay the bills but not always on time because money is tight. He works too but if I told you I knew where he spends all his money I’d be lying. I know a good chunk of it is on pills and most recently Suboxone. We fight over money a lot because he can’t always contribute his share and this is where I start to feel more like a parent and less like a girlfriend.

I hate it. We fight, I cry, I tell him to grow up, he apologizes, makes more promises and the entire cycle repeats itself. I hug my dogs and my visit my yoga mat daily for sanity because I sure as hell can’t tell my mom.

For now I’ve made a promise to do one nice thing for myself each day. Something for me, independent of him so I can feel normal.