Oh my god, but have you experienced the Costco hotdog? I am unsure why Guy Fieri hasn't showcased this simple delight on his Diners, Drive-Ins and Blocked Arteries show. $1.50 for an all beef dog and a soda WITH A REFILL? Costco, are you drunk? You should be losing money on this. Once upon a time I used to (read like a month ago) just drive to Costco specifically for the hotdog. Relax. It was on the way back to my squatter's pad, and I skipped breakfast..and shut your face.
Even before the Autumn move above the 49th parallel, I honestly felt like I lost a part of my identity. The turmoil that is being an immigrant wreaked havoc on my life, my health paid the price in a lot of ways--both physically and psychologically. Overwhelmed with conferring with my lawyers, researching immigration loopholes, speaking to elected officials, my regimented work out routine had dissipated early on in 2014. No longer was I joining the girls for Sunday yoga, or Boot Camp Monday. Hitting the gym for daily cardio became a distant memory. Quick, already prepared meals, delivery, and the oh-so-reliable peanut butter and jam, decided to make a comeback tour. Weekends were spent clutching my chest, and trying to ward off another panic attack, as I looked around my room and wept over knowing I was losing the comfort of the home I had built. It was terrifying to have no idea what lay in front of me, it's still terrifying. I enjoy moving, new adventures, going outside of my comfort zone, but this differed starkly. This was not my choice, the choice was made for me, and the loss of control over my life's direction resulted in debilitating stress and anxiety. I didn't deal with it well.
Bottom line. I felt (still kind of feel) like garbage. I was eating garbage. I let go of my healthy routines. I lost interest in almost everything. I was in a vicious cycle where I felt worse and worse, and coped utilizing means that pushed me further into this dark, vicious cycle. I know I need to break it.
Despite having battled a cold for the last week, I have made honest attempts to once again find joy in
things and activities that once composed my daily life--you know, healthy ones though. And not being such a gross sloth of a person.
RESULTS OF WEEK ONE:
I cooked! I am the proud owner of a beautiful, professional, forged steel Chef's knife and I WAS SO EXCITED TO CHOP SHIT UP. Being sick, I decided to make my own soup, rather than ingest sodium rich canned ones. I developed my own chicken stock from a chicken carcass and vegetables peelings. After hours of letting that simmer, I strained my soup base, and began chopping celery, carrots, leeks, garlic, tomatoes to add to the homemade broth. Adding in a finely diced serrano pepper (seeds included, peeps), chipotle seasoning, barley, and topped with fresh cilantro, I successfully made a comforting soup. A hearty, though spicy, soup that not only aided my cold, but because the flavor profile reminded me of Texas, it soothed my aching heart for the comfort of another home I left behind.
I also made a return to cardio and yoga! Disappointingly, albeit not in the least bit surprising, I am super not flexible anymore. Not that I was acrobat before, but I have definitely lost almost any flexibility I once possessed. At first discouraged by losing the agility and stamina I once had, I forced myself to continue onwards. Muscles stretched, tensions released, joints popped. That small amount of yoga I completed, although nowhere close to the strength I once had, honestly did improve my mood (though not dramatically) despite initial feelings of exasperating disappointment. A slow start, but a start nonetheless.
I was once a voracious reader, as well. I decided its time to start reading again, and not useless Buzzfeed articles, or their quizzes on "What kind of Tea are you". Which apparently, according to the genius developers behind this particular quiz, I am coffee. FYI- that's not fucking tea. While skimming through these links a preview for "50 Shades of Grey" movie adaptation popped up on the interwebs, and I decided- hey maybe I should read the book. Everyone loves it, maybe it's not that bad.
Yeah, except that it is.
I tried to like it. I really did. Couldn't finish it, I skimmed through pages. Outright laughed at the absurdly awful prose. I've read better character development in Clifford the Big Red Dog. It's actually insulting how the writer spoon-feeds her audience obvious plot elements and underlying "themes". It did not rev my engines, it just outright angered me. Maybe that's why the main male lead is into BDSM, he's just so pissed that he is part of this trilogy. He should try yoga, or long walks on the beach, instead of being a stalker, and a controlling, weirdo creep.
And then I remind myself that the woman who wrote this is a multimillionaire and has sold HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF BOOKS AROUND THE WORLD. Makes my heart sad. Just like when I think of the Kardashian Family or Snooki. They're rich and famous for being talentless. Le sigh.
Today I'll read a new book. I will enjoy my soup. I will continue with yoga and regular light cardio.
I will continue to heal in small, frustrating steps.