Hey folks! I started out this blog with a post about my Saturday morning mug of tea, and my morning Tai Chi. I talked about how good this routine made me feel, and I meant it. Problem was, most other days started out in a rush and a cup of strong coffee. I’d been drinking it for years! In fact, the habit stems all the way back to the little me, around age five, who looked forward to that tiny bit of coffee my dad would leave in his cup when he left for work. He would get up from the table, and my mom would follow him to say goodbye. Now was my chance! I’d sneak up to the table and check his cup. Sure enough, there’d be those last few swallows of coffee, creamy with Coffee-mate and made even more interesting by a few stray coffee grounds! Mmmmm! I’d drink it down quickly, savoring the very adult taste on my tongue and feeling very pleased with myself. Later on, in high school, I could easily down four or five cups before I even left for school! I’d be flying high on a huge caffeine rush!
As I got older, though, I began to notice an increasing sensitivity to caffeine. I might meet a friend for coffee at Starbucks, and I’d leave feeling jittery and a little queasy. Sometimes, I’d get headaches, and my neck and upper back would get tight and achy. Other times, I’d feel irritable or anxious. Falling to sleep at night could sometimes be difficult, even though I only drank one cup a day. I can’t believe I didn’t tie all this back to the coffee! But I still thought I needed at least that one cup of coffee to get going in the morning. I really couldn’t imagine not having it!
Then one day, that all changed. It was Thanksgiving morning of 2017. As I went through my usual routine, I suddenly thought, “I don’t feel like coffee this morning; I think I’ll have tea instead.” I love tea and always have, and sometimes I did drink it in the morning instead of coffee, but about 95% of my mornings began with coffee – until this day. From this day forward, I switched from coffee in the mornings to tea, and it has been one of the best decisions I’ve made. I realize both coffee and tea have caffeine, but somehow tea is so much smoother at delivering it. I don’t feel any of those symptoms I used to feel from coffee. I am sleeping better at night. From that first day, I felt calm yet energetic – even at work. It’s like being high on life! No more jittery, irritable feelings. No more upset stomach. Just pure, healthy energy.
I still like the smell and taste of coffee, and for this reason I do keep a small jar of instant decaffeinated coffee around – just in case I’m really wanting that taste. But I’ve hardly used it. I love my tea, and I love trying different kinds. My old stand-by for the mornings is Earl Grey, but I also like a strong cup of green tea. Herbal teas are also wonderful, especially for at night, to wind down. I had a nice patch of lemon balm a while back, and was able to harvest a good amount for tea. Currently I have a small patch of chamomile growing that the squirrels have yet to find. Wish me luck with that! Anyway, just wanted to share my tea experience, in case it can help someone else who’s stuck in the coffee rut!
Be happy and well!
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I was once accused of being transient. Transient – like it was a dirty word.
I looked around at what I had back then. A second floor apartment in a white stucco building downtown. A TV, a lawn chair for a chair, a lamp and an end table or two, a bed, a keyboard with bench and stand, and a couple kitchen items. The apartment was was simple and clean; newly remodeled. The kitchen appliances were brand new and rarely, if ever, used. In the evenings, palm fronds brushed against my windows, creating pretty silhouettes in the shadows. There was a coffee shop right across the street (Mother’s Milk I think it was called) where they had live entertainment in the evenings sometimes, and I could hear it from my windows. It made me feel like I was part of something, whether I went there or not. I made friends with a mechanic in the shop across the street, who invited me to his more inland house when there was a hurricane threat. A Turkish man owned the gas station next door and had great prices on wine. I could walk, rollerblade, or ride my bike most places.
When I moved there, everything I owned fit in my car. The car was a Grand Marquis (I forget the year), so it was pretty roomy. But I still had one of those cartop carrier thingies on top that I think I put clothes in. In my travels, one of the straps had broken and I literally drove with my driver window open, holding that strap, across several states because I couldn’t figure out a way to fix it.
Joe was this guy I met back then. He was a furniture builder and also a doorman/bouncer who worked the door at a nearby club. He was okay. I think he liked me more than I liked him. One afternoon not long after I met him, he told me that he had just recently gotten out of jail in Texas. I can’t remember for what. Anyway, he had this thing for dressing nice and being “classy” and having nice and classy things. One day, he looked around my apartment and made a comment along the lines of, “it looks like a transient lives here.” It wasn’t so much what he said; it was more how he said it that made me feel weird.
Why do some people feel the need to judge others so harshly? Especially based on what they have or how they live? Did it ever occur to this guy that I had just moved cross country, by myself, and started all over again with no place to live and no job? I packed what I could carry and brought it, but that was it. Within days I had a job and it wasn’t much longer till I found my apartment. No, I did not immediately wrack up a credit card just so I could get a bunch of impressive furniture. I’ve never liked to spend beyond my means, and I usually stick with just what I need. I’d say that’s smart and not something to be ashamed of.
As far as transient goes? Hey, I never promised to be permanent.
I once lived in a little square house. Downstairs it had a kitchen, dining room, and living room. Upstairs, a bathroom and bedroom with a makeshift closet along the hallway that connected the two rooms. It was sturdy and brick. When I had the shingles replaced on the roof, the carpenters exclaimed over the hardness of the oak boards underneath. I replaced the old “shutter style” windows with new, vinyl windows and had one opening done in all glass block. No more snow getting in on the inside like it used to! So this house was nothing fancy, but I kept it clean and cute.
The yard was nice and big with trees and a half circle drive. The back yard led down into the woods where a trail opened up to a large, fast-flowing stream. If you followed the stream up, you would find yourself in a graveyard. This led to much speculation on my part as to whether the stream itself could be haunted (haha) ~ just par for the course of my wild imagination. But it was a pretty setting.
This little square house was old. I imagined that it could have been the carriage house for a much larger and grander house that stood down the road. At one time, in the past. Maybe. Either way it was a pretty place even though it was small and old. It was the first house I ever owned, and since I was only in my early 20’s, I was pretty proud of myself.
So it was with some dismay when I heard a guy I was dating describe my house to others as, “she lives in this BOX….” said with a mild hint of disgust…as if I was living in a cardboard box under a bridge or something. In fact, he lived in what can only be described as a “U” – which was actually a small, generic-looking, U shaped apartment in a building with lots of other U shaped apartments. So okay, I may have lived in a square and he in a U, but you didn’t hear ME knocking his U! In fact, I’d never have thought to do so.
But I always remembered him saying that, and the look on his face, and it made me feel insecure and self-conscience about my little square house. It shouldn’t have, but it did. I wondered if, since he felt that way, is that what others thought, too? Should I have cared? No! But at that age, I did very much care what others thought. In fact, this was just one of several places I lived that was good for me, but that other people I knew criticized. What’s funny is that the people who usually criticized me didn’t really have any room to talk. They weren’t doing any better or more fabulously than me! It shouldn’t have bothered me.
Eventually I moved, as I always knew I would, and I sold the house after a few years. When I think of it, that little square house reminds me of some of the tiny houses that are so popular now. It wasn’t exactly that small, though, but it really was super efficient and a perfect place for me at the time. I don’t have an actual picture of the house – the image is from google but hopefully will give you the gist. The actual house was a little bigger and had windows on the second floor with dormers. But that’s the general idea. The house is still in my family. I sold it to my dad who rents it out.
Passion, meaning, purpose, fulfillment etc. – all words that have haunted me for at least the last 10 years of my working life. Why? It seems like everywhere I go, everywhere I read, these are the words that in some way we should be able to use to describe the work/career aspect of our lives. That’s right – it’s all about doing something we love, doing something that gives us purpose and fulfillment, doing something meaningful. And the real doosie: it should be our PASSION!
That’s all well and good, but it also seems to be extremely difficult to attain. For me, work has mostly been something I do to earn money. Maybe it’s the way I grew up or was raised, but to me, a job involved being realistic and practical. It wasn’t supposed to be fun; it was something you did to make money. Passion? What passion? There has rarely been any “passion” involved. Sure, I’ve enjoyed some jobs more than others, but I can’t think of one job I’ve had that I would consider particularly meaningful – at least not to me. In my younger years, it hadn’t really bothered me too much. As long as I had extra money for the things I liked to do (like travel and go to concerts), I was okay with the daily grind of going to work to simply earn a paycheck. But as I’ve gotten older, there’s been this constant nagging feeling that what I do every day should have more meaning behind it. In addition, the internet is flooded with articles about following your passion and discovering your ideal career.
With ideas like this in my head; well, I’ll be honest – I’ve been miserable. Each day at work felt pointless. I would count the hours until I could go home and do the things I really loved; like reading, writing, taking long walks, riding my bike, growing plants, etc. I love life itself, but this idea that I needed to be passionate about my work left me feeling depressed. Most of my jobs have involved accounting in some way, shape or form. This is something I’m good at, but it’s certainly not something I’m passionate about, nor is it something I find particularly fulfilling. Even so, I had resigned myself to it. Counting beans was just something I did, so that in my free time I could do the other things that I love to do.
So, it was with a sense of real relief that I stumbled across an article on Forbes that put a whole new spin on the idea of finding fulfillment at work. While grammatical errors are a pet peeve of mine (I wonder if even the author himself had read this over), the article itself put forth an important message: “stop thinking you need to find fulfillment from your day job”. Here’s an excerpt:
“But, here’s a benefit. The moment you stop thinking you need to find fulfillment from your day job, you are going to be at least somewhat happier. No, nothing about the job will have changed, but your attitude about it will. You will no longer expect that your day job to provide you with fulfillment. That’s a small step in the right direction. It’s totally within your reach and it costs you nothing”
What an idea! This goes against everything I’ve been reading and thinking, and you know what? I love the idea! It has made me feel much more relaxed and at ease than I was before. Here’s what I take away from it: I think for some people it’s achievable and they really do find work that they are passionate about. Good for them! If you’re in that group, you are a very lucky person. Then there’s the rest of us. Maybe we are good at something, it earns us money, it keeps us busy, and it’s at least tolerable. BUT it’s not “fulfilling”, it doesn’t involve any one of our passions, and getting up in the morning to do it doesn’t exactly thrill us. If that’s the case, then I think what needs to be done is this: we need to focus on what our passion or passions are and still make sure they are a big part of our life. Just because we aren’t completely fulfilled at work, doesn’t mean we can’t feel that way outside of work. We must still focus on our passions because they are what make us who we are, and they are what makes us happy and gives us purpose. For example, if writing is a passion of yours, continue to set aside time to write – even if it’s during a break, or here and there on weekends or after work. Continue to do the things that motivate you outside of work. If our personal life is fulfilling, that feeling will spill over into our professional lives; especially if the pressure is off in trying to find what isn’t there at our jobs.
And who knows what may happen if we continue to explore and get better at our true purpose!
My first full-time job was a secretarial position at a small lumber company. My clerk-stenography teacher hooked me up with the job while I was still in high school, doing vocational training in her class. My senior year consisted of going to school till about 11 am, taking a quick “sort of” lunch break, then arriving to work at the lumber company at noon and working till 5 pm. I had weekends off which I thought was the schizdig, since my previous jobs had been part-time ones that always involved working on weekends. Immediately after graduating high school, I became full-time at the lumber company. “Real life” had begun for me. I was 18 years old, living in a two-bedroom apartment with a roommate, and working 7:30 am to 4:30 pm Monday through Friday for minimum wage. And I was broke.
I was living on the least amount of money ever. I remember distinctly waking up late on a Saturday and being SO hungry. I needed food – fast – and there was literally none in the apartment. At the bank, I discovered I had $12 whole dollars in my account. I took enough out to buy a value meal at McDonald’s, and seriously worried about what I’d do the rest of the week. Yep – those were the days! I had no choice but to be as frugal as possible, and I somehow made it through.
Back then, I stressed over how I would afford decent clothes. The lady I worked with, who was also the owner, dressed beautifully every day – very professional and classy looking. Being so young, I remember looking to her as a kind of role model for how to dress. But there was no way I could afford some of the brands she wore. So, my solution to this was – buy the very basics and make them work.
I bought two skirts; one was light tan/khaki and the other was navy blue. I bought a couple button downs; white and pink. I had a couple pairs of pumps. There were probably a few other hand-me-downs in my wardrobe, but that was about it. From there on, I mixed and matched like crazy. I made things last and last. Like I said, the things I bought were the very basics – to be mixed and matched in as many ways as possible. It never took me long to figure out what I would wear in the morning, since there wasn’t much to choose from!
Fast forward to today, many years later (haha!), and I open my closet in the morning to find this insane jumble of clothing. Not much matches and I struggle to put together outfits for work. Where did I go wrong? Oh yeah! I began to make enough money to buy more clothes. Also, my younger years of having to be so frugal have made me want to hang on to things – just in case. Something’s got to give!
Simplicity, minimalism – these are things I admire very much, and over the past couple years I really have made an effort to simplify my life. It feels great and it works, yet the idea hadn’t quite made it into my wardrobe – until now. I recently learned about this movement called Project 333 – you dress with 33 items or less for 3 months. Anything you haven’t used in that time can be donated. I’ve only skimmed over the basics of it, but I thought – I could totally do this! While I know I won’t follow the rules exactly, just the idea of it has given me so much inspiration. I think back to the days of buying those first-time basics that I bought so many years ago. I already know this formula – I just need to follow it once again. This time, though, I am not so broke and I will look for quality over quantity. In getting rid of stuff, I think it’s safe to say that if I haven’t worn it in over a year and am still not very interested – well, then it can go! Yesterday, I took a large bag of unneeded and unwanted clothing, shoes, and jewelry to donation. I’ve always donated items in this way, but yesterday it was with a new purpose and determination, a determination to get back to the basics. And it feels GREAT!