For myself or for you, I am not sure… Both, I imagine, I hope.

Let’s start at the beginning. Shall we?

And this beginning is actually even before my beginning.

For me, it starts with my Dad’s first wife and daughter being killed by a drunk driver. (Allow me to get on my soap box for a moment: Stop driving drunk. The lives affected by a drunk driving accident run deep for generations. You’re too smart to not figure out a safe ride home. /endsoapbox).

My Dad has never said the words to me, but I believe that part of him felt abandoned by his first wife and daughter.

>>> And here’s where I forgive and let go of my anger towards Kathy and Jeannie for dying. I’ve been angry – without realizing I was angry – about this for so long that I haven’t ever even learned how to spell their names. Wow.<<<

Several years after the accident he met my Mom in a bible study group at the Lutheran church in town. Now, at the time (and in my humble opinion) my Mom looked very similar to my Dad’s first wife. And growing up, there were definitely times when I thought that my Mom was “the replacement wife”. It was only recently that I became aware that the next logical step in that train of thought meant that I was “the replacement daughter”. >>> THAT was quite the moment. Thank you Access Consciousness.<<<

Growing up, I don’t ever recall consciously being aware of thinking about myself as “the replacement daughter”. Although I did constantly try to earn love… which is another lesson for another time.

So, Mom and Dad met, generally spent time together with groups of people for around three months, were engaged and dated for two months, and then married.

A few years go by and my maternal Grandma lets the family know that she has cancer, a disease that many of her 12 siblings shared. Three months later I was conceived. And when I was born, I was born with “baby pneumonia” and kept in the hospital for a week. My lungs were filled with fluid. I didn’t cry when I was born.

My understanding is that often times when the parents are filled with sadness, the baby is born with pnemonia. As if the parents’ tears filled up the child’s lungs. I know how “woo-woo” that may sound. And yet, here my parents were… my Mom coping with her Mom being diagnosed with breast cancer, a fatal disease (at the time) and desperately wanting grandchildren… my Dad grieving the loss of his first family while existing with his second.

>>> To the point that my middle name and my sister’s middle name comes from his first wife’s grandma. Ann. And that way my sister and I would always share a name. My Mom wanted to go with Jo in honor of her mother. And Mom did what comforted Dad, and went with Ann.<<<

There I was, Sara Ann Carlson. The apple of my Grandpa Hill’s eye and the absolute JOY of my Grandma Hill’s heart. I could do no wrong and I was spoiled with love. Don’t get me wrong, my Grandma and Grandpa Carlson loved me very much. And they already had quite the collection of grandkids. On the Hill side of the family, I was the first grandchild, the oldest. And Grandma Hill had cancer. The ladies at her church even put together a special “Grandma’s Shower” for her and I. I still have the baby shower cards.

Grandma Hill was a school cook. And I’m very proud to share that she was actively against school lunches being processed and packaged. Grandma Hill cooked and baked. It’s what she did. She taught my Mom to cook and bake. My Mom taught me how to bake. We never quite made it to cooking…

By the time I completed fifth grade, I had written a book for a class project titled, “Sisu, Strong-Willed One” in honor… in memory… in grieving of my Grandma Hill’s death. My Grandma was 100 percent Polish and my Grandpa Hill was 100 percent Finish. Sisu is a Finnish word, engrained in the Finnish culture that means strength of will, determination to succeed and perseverance against all odds. It’s tattooed on my left forearm in her handwriting.

What I’ve realized and learned since then is that I was angry at and filled with resent for my Grandma Hill dying. I felt abandoned by her. Who was she to not take care of herself, to not go to the doctor earlier, to hold onto her diagnosis for years before sharing the news and getting support and treatment?

She was a person who put other people’s happiness before her own. She was protecting her family from sadness. She didn’t want to be a “dark cloud” on her children’s weddings and family celebrations. She protected. She kept the news to herself. And I was angry at her for not taking care of herself – to the point that the family literally had to roll my Grandma up in a quilt and bring her to the hospital before she’d get help. I was angry at her for “abandoning” me and the family.

This pattern of anger and abandonment I can see again and again and again as I look back over the course of my life. Ad nauseam, truly. Friends, jobs, etc. This onion repeats, layer after layer:

• Abandoned* when my Grandma died
• Abandoned* when my sister made friends.
• Abandoned* when my elementary/high school school friend preferred impressing boys.
• Abandoned* when my Mom let me go to school with white jeans and no instructions on how often to change the pad on the first day of my first period.
• Abandoned* when my first boyfriend chose a frat party with his older brother.
• Abandoned* when my closest post-high school friend became an alcoholic.
• Abandoned* when my maternal Uncle John died from cancer… also by hiding his illness and not taking care of himself until it was too late.
• Abandoned* when my work no longer lined up with my values.
• Abandoned* when I didn’t take care of myself and landed in the ER and told I may die because of how terribly I had hurt my gall bladder and pancreas.
• Abandoned* when my Dad gave thousands and thousands of dollars to feed his addictions and support another family.

(*Abandoned is what I perceived to have happened. It is not what ACTUALLY happened. It’s the meaning I gave to what happened. Does that make sense? And it’s not something I even recognized as going on behind the scenes for me until recently. I simply knew I wasn’t happy and that I had a really, really short and violent temper.)

Last fall I met with a therapist several times who offered up an intriguing diagnosis rooted in my Grandma’s death – PTSD. And I was surprised with the idea that I was under THAT kind of stress. I hadn’t killed anyone, I hadn’t been raped, I hadn’t been in a horrible accident. Post. traumatic. stress. disorder. I just kind of thought everyone lived like this and that I was just different in a way that kept me shy, reserved, and awkwardly desiring to please everyone around me so I could fit in and earn friendship, love, attention.

Let’s take a breath.

And BREATHE.

Since this fall, I’ve worked with my coaches, husband, friends and family,  and have forgiven the anger, the resentment, the abandonment. And it was a gut-wrenching process. It’s HARD to believe, to acknowledge that you’re angry with someone you love. It’s HARD to put the word “abandonment” on your own situation and claim it as your own. Yet, that IS what I felt. And I’ve finally been able to put names to those emotions.

My parents weren’t emotionally available. They didn’t have those tools in their toolkit. They did thee best they could with what they had. Emotions weren’t their strong suit. I grew up in a stoic home where we checked out of our emotions through working long hard hours and sinking into obsessions. And, later on in life we sank into our own addictions –  perfectionism, alcohol, drugs, sex, food.

Taking it a step further. I’ve forgiven my laundry list of abandonments. I’ve forgiven my Grandma for abandoning me and not taking care of herself, and understanding that her positive intention in doing things the way she did was to protect the family and keep everyone happy for as long as possible.

And what I’ve most recently noticed is the connection between abandonment and my kitchen. The kitchen was my Grandma’s space in the home. It was her kitchen. Organized, well-used, much-loved. It’s where she created meals and memories. And its as if being in the kitchen is too painful of a reminder of this abandonment. So the brilliant strategy I’ve been using to emotionally check-out has been to feed my hunger AND avoid letting myself feel abandoned AND continue the family pattern of not taking care of myself until it’s too late by choosing to find fast food, junk food, restaurant food. Bloody brilliant. I’ve already landed in the emergency room once and told I may die by this strategy working so hard behind the scenes for all these years.

You’re always winning at the game you’re playing. And I LOVE to be a winner.

So first, it’s been too painful to deal with real food and cooking because it reminded me of being abandoned. And second, I’ve been honoring my family’s legacy of not taking care of one’s self until it’s too late. Brilliantly, I’ve combined these aims into one solution: consume junk.

With this awareness comes a solution, a new strategy to try out.

And a few different things come to mind. First, I’ve been looking at going raw and vegan for quite some time. Seriously, have you SEEN the women who rock this life style? Google “Mimi Kirk”. PETA’s hottest woman over 50… and she’s in her seventies! And it lines up with my values, BIG TIME. And the food I had at Cafe Gratitude was AMAZING so I know it’s completely possible to eat tasty, nourishing food this way. To start this, I’m going to be walking myself through my 7 Step Slam Dunk Meal Planner… raw and vegan style. Which means, I’m starting with mastering the art of eating one fruit and one veggie daily and getting my snacks in order.

Week One Snacks:

• Wholly Guacamole and Beanitos
• Bananas with cinnamon (raw & vegan)
• Raspberry smoothie with coconut milk, ground golden flax seed, cinnamon, filtered water  (raw & vegan)
• Sugar snap peas  (raw & vegan)
• Dark chocolate 70% or more

Mastering One Fruit & One Veggie:

• Fruit: Raspberry smoothie or bananas with cinnamon, daily
• Veggie: Sugar snap peas, daily

With both the snacks and mastering the one fruit and one veggie, I’ll be kind to myself. Taking really good care of myself and nourishing my body is not the legacy that was passed down to me. Nourishing my body actually goes against how I was raised.

And to say “Thank you” to the way I was raised, recognizing that that way did an incredible job of getting me to where I am now, and thanking said way for all the work it’s done for me AND LETTING GO OF IT, is, to be honest, a bit sad. It’s like a piece of me is dying. Or a part of my past is dying. It’s like I’m going to a funeral for part of my past. It’s a piece that has served me well for years, and now it’s time to say goodbye to that piece. And goodbyes are HARD. And that’s okay.

And I’m enough “ME” now to say goodbye and move forward into my own truth of taking really good care of myself. Because, worst-case scenario, I know I can always go back to the old way.

Okay, back to taking really good care of myself… As part of this, I’m looking at the kitchen in a new light. What if instead of the kitchen being a reminder of abandonment, what happens when I approach the kitchen as a space to connect and deeply nourish myself and my loves? I wonder what happens then?

Part of this may even be making one of my Grandma Hill’s recipes on a special day like her birthday or anniversary. Maybe. Part of me feels like that’s too… sad? And this work is about constantly moving towards happiness. Happiness chooses love and life.

What is landing for me is getting our kitchen in order, and to start going through what we have and organizing and presenting it in a way that we love and is useful, as we’ve done more and more with the rest of our home. Just this morning I noticed how every other room in our home has had more design and attention paid to it than our kitchen. Our kitchen is literally black and white and organized in a way that makes next to no sense. Interesting awareness…

So, bottom line. Patterns run rampant. Legacies continue until their noticed. Strategies are brilliant. And I’m stepping deeper into my own truth, as the truest version of myself. Letting go of the past, leading with integrity, nourishing myself – mind and body.

Amen.

Now then, it’s time to be playful in the kitchen as a confident and happy woman!

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“Cleanse all that is not love.
~

  Purge all that is not true.
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  Release all that is not you.”
~

- LISA FABREGA

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Wow! I love actionable inspiration!

Here’s that and a few of my kindest magic tricks – including The Star of Stretch and Support – from last Saturday’s Keeping Your New Year’s Resolutions ALIVE podcast.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Because it’s about your pursuit of health and happiness…

www.SaraHefty.com // The Lux Health Coaching

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Are you more of a Yes person or a Stress person? An Ownership person or a Blame person? A Communicator or an Angry-Assumption-Maker person?

For years, I have thought that I was a Yes person, an Ownership person, a Communicator but I recently got a dose of tough love and truth handed to me by the one who knows me best.

My husband and I were traveling to Minnesota on December 23rd for Christmas Celebration Number One (of three). He had made plans for us to go sledding with some good friends the afternoon of Christmas Eve. (Yes!)

Sledding plans, sounds amazing and completely sweet… BUT I didn’t want to be a part from my Mom on our only day with her even though we traditionally simply get-together for Christmas Eve night so…

I slapped his fun-filled invitation with a the wall of STRESS.

Apparently, I’ve been doing this a lot lately. He makes plans for us, and I’m just an angry whirlwind of STRESS.

And once I’m STRESSED, I blame, I start throwing out assumptions, and I shutdown trying to figure out how to please everyone.

Ugh. Do I really do that? Is that the kind of woman I want to be? Where else does this wall of STRESS show up and limit my opportunity to easily and pleasurably experience joy and happiness and create amazing memories with those I love most?

In the most forgiving way my husband showed me what I was doing.

What happened next stopped me cold… and it changed my life. I’ll reveal the whole story on next Saturday’s free uncensored call.

You’ll get direct access to me – for free! All you have to do is show up and raise your hand.

Just say YES.

Get free coaching with Sara

No selling.
No pitching.
Nothing to buy here.

Just radical honestly coming from a place of love and commitment to holding you accountable to your weight loss goals, New Year’s Resolutions, childhood dreams, and highest self. Think of it as a gift, of me paying the experience forward, and starting 2013 a little bit better than I left 2012.

I want to show you a way you can stop your old habits cold and choose to be surging forward.

All The Best To Your Health and Happiness,

P.S. With the end of the world out of the way, I think it’s time for there to be an overflowing abundance of inspiring, powerful, change-the-world, healthy and happy women in our generation. It’s time to look at your stuff and find where you stop yourself cold from living your feminine brilliance.

Join me for this accountability call.

Get free coaching with Sara

Know someone else who could use a love bomb of empowerment to say YES to the next big leap forward in health and happiness?

Please forward this email to other change-ready women you know.

I’ll see you on the first live call, Saturday, January 5th at 1:30 p.m. CST sharp.

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And then I found this infographic. Their sources are listed at the bottom, and they’re saying American’s consume 130 pounds of sugar annually. Good Lord.

~

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And, isn’t it wonderful to know that sugar is just as addictive as cocaine? Ah, warm fuzzies.
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Ok, so to crush sugar cravings…

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1. Get some sleep.
   As in eight hours of high-quality sleep. Nightly. Your body needs REM sleep to grow and repair from the day’s stress. When we don’t get enough sleep, our metabolism and health suffer. And then we reach for sugar to keep us awake.
   ~ 
2. Eat real food.
   A novel concept, I know. Eat real food at every meal. But I’ll get a little specific here. Have some protein – turkey, chicken, or fish. Have some fat – like coconut oil, grapeseed oil, olive oil, or avocado. Have some fiber – kale, spinach, apple, plum, banana, or snap peas.
   ~ 
3. Use condiments. 
   Have a plethora of condiments readily available to flavor your food and drinks. Put them on a lazy-Susan in your dining room and play! Put as much cinnamon as you can stand on any and all of your foods. It does wonders to decrease inflammation and stabilize blood sugar. I like using gomasio instead of salt and coconut aminos instead of soy sauce for savory flavors. To avoid the real and fake sugars in salad dressings, I’ve found olive oil (or grapeseed oil) with pepper is surprisingly tasty! Who knew? Go into it with an open mind, keep it fun, and play around!
   ~ 
4. Spoil yourself.
   Eat really nourishing foods and drinks 90 percent of the time. And the other 10%? Give yourself permission to thoroughly enjoy the moment and “be bad”. Ooooh. You rebel. Just be sure to invest in your badness. So when you are off eating chocolate, be sure it’s uber-high quality luxury chocolate and NOT the wax-filled wannabe chocolate at the checkout line.
   ~ 
5. Decide that you’re bigger than your craving.
   Realize your craving popped up. Drink some water or tea. Know you’re going to give yourself 10 minutes before you act on your craving. Start in on a project – anything from filing papers to starting a bath, from knocking out a few emails to a home-improvement project, from stepping outside for a few breathes of fresh air to reconnecting with that higher version of yourself for clarity of purpose. Do something other than dwell on your craving.
   ~ 

Want more on kicking cravings?

Let’s schedule a 1-on-1 (in person or over-the-phone) strategy session to help you get clear on your next steps.

~

All the Best To Your Health And Happiness!

~

~

~

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(Thank you Ashley Ambirge for the format!)

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IGNORANT

When my Grandma Hill was diagnosed with cancer a year before my birth.

PETRIFIED

When I was born in 1981, without crying, due to baby pneumonia.

LOVED

When the overnight nurse stayed way past her shift to make sure I was alright. More than once. I still have the framed blessing she gave to my parents for me.

RELIEVED

When seven days later I was able to leave with my Mom and Dad to the 160-acre hobby farm we called home.

ECSTATIC

When I told my parents I was getting a sister named Nikki with brown hair and brown eyes just like me.

PROUD

When my four-year-old-self told the judge, “Yes I want her as my sister,” at the adoption hearing.

NOURISHED

When I ate farm-fresh, home-grown, home-cooked food for the first five years of my life.

PUMPED

When I “finally” started having homework to do.

CURIOUS

When I learned my Dad’s first wife and infant daughter were killed by a drunk driver.

ELATED

When my Grandma Hill made her famous carmel rolls.

CONFUSED

When she started using crutches because her left leg bones were deteriorating.

COMFORTED

When I would sneak brownies and cookies while the parentals weren’t looking.

DEVASTATED

When she died, malnourished and starved.

MOURNFUL

When in fifth-grade I wrote, “Sisu: Strong-Willed One” and dedicated it to her memory. A+ work per Mrs. Berglund.

RESPONSIBLE

When I gave my Dad permission to borrow my college fund for the farm.

MORTIFIED

When two friends pulled me aside on the playground to inform me I was bleeding through my  jeans. And when, the next month, I bled through again and added nearly passing out on the choir bleachers to the ordeal.

IRATE

When I couldn’t get my ears pierced because if God wanted more holes in my body He would have put them there. He also didn’t want me to have painted nails.

PROUD

When I kept winning Grand Champion trophies and trips to the Minnesota State Fair for my swine-showing skills.

REBELLIOUS

When I had my first underage beer, thanks to a friend sneaking two cans into the house.

NUMB

When I held animals for neutering and clipping.

ASHAMED

When I didn’t understand why I didn’t fit in.

GRATEFUL

When I got my first job off the farm, serving at Berchin’s A&W Family Restaurant.

IMPORTANT

When I won the title of “Dairy Princess”. Twice. And later, “Pork Ambassador”.

PEACEFUL

When my Grandma Carlson died at home.

THROWN

When I learned my Grandpa Carlson had cancer when he was younger, but died from a stroke years later. And six-months after his bride.

POPULAR

When I lived on Diet Coke, chocolate chip cookies, and Twizzlers while throwing parties at the farm where it seemed like a hundred people showed up.

GUILTY

When I didn’t see my Grandpa Hill the weekend before I traveled to England.

BROKEN

When the call came in that he died and that I’d miss the funeral.

DESPERATE

When my parents filed for bankruptcy.

PANICKED

When I thought I had to decide on a career, a college, and a program that would provide for the family.

LOGICAL

When, after hundreds of hours, I chose to study actuarial science at Drake University because actuary was the top-ranked job according to U.S. News and Drake had one of the best programs.

GUTSY

When I started dating my very best friend. A boy named Brian.

LUCKY

When we went to my senior prom together. Especially after my junior year fiasco.

DESERVING

When I won more scholarships than anyone in my class.

LESS-THAN

When the first two girls I attempted to make conversation with at Drake snubbed me. HARD.

PISSED

When my courses did not live up to my expectations of the stimulating learning experiences I desired and my roommate did not live up to the “you’ll meet your best girl friends in college” expectation.

ATHLETIC

When I joined the women’s rowing team.

WHIPPED

When I would drive ten hours every other weekend to visit Brian at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire. SO whipped!

LOST

When I transfered to a community college back home to do generals. And then took a semester off. Then transferred to UW-Eau Claire. And then did the whole loop over with a few more community schools added to the mix, starting with Drake. That’s five transfers in five years between just as many schools.

DETERMINED

When I pulled my stellar resume together: great GPA, great community service, great recommendations. All set to join the real world.

INCENSED

When the only job offer I had available to me was as an overnight assistant manager at Wal-Mart.

FOOLISH

When I graduated from UW-Eau Claire’s Entrepreneur Program in 2005, weighing in at 212 pounds on a 5’7″ frame.

REMINISCENT

When my Great-Aunt Julia, my Grandma Hill’s sister, died from breast cancer in February 2007.

DESERTED

When my Uncle John, who was originally going to be the minister for our wedding, died from cancer in May 2007. He was a favorite. As was Julia.

BELOVED

When we said, “I do” on July 28, 2007. I weighed 227 pounds. ON. MY. WEDDING. DAY.

GROWN-UP

When we bought our home in October 2007.

DUMBFOUNDED

When, in 2010, I found out Lexis-Nexus had added two felonies to my background report in 2003 that weren’t mine.

SCARED

When I found out my Dad had bladder cancer.

VENGEFUL

When his doctor said it was due to the pesticides used on the farm.

POWERFUL

When I quit working for an employer who would hardly work for himself.

GRATEFUL

When Brian challenged me to go wherever I needed to go and do whatever I needed to do to build the career of my dreams.

ADVENTUROUS

When I journeyed solo from Wisconsin to Arizona with site-seeing stops at the Rocky Mountain National Park and the Royal Gorge before setting up shop to gain residency and rock ASU’s Global Health program.

HOT

When I flew back home for Brian’s 30th birthday weighing 35-pounds less than when he’d seen my last.

HELPLESS

When I called the ambulance to rush myself to the hospital.

THANKFUL

When I realized that at least this happened while I was home.

DENIAL

When the ER doctor said my blood work was serious to the point I could die if they were unsuccessful in getting my numbers down.

MAD

When I was told I could now eat whatever I wanted, two days after having my gall bladder removed.

AMAZED

When I discovered the Institute of Integrative Nutrition (IIN) and stayed up until 4 a.m. reading every last page of their website. (Thank you Derek and Amanda!)

PURPOSEFUL

When I enrolled in IIN as soon as they opened for the day. And then trashed my ASU application.

DISTRAUGHT

When I moved back home to Wisconsin from Arizona in the dead of winter because Loki, our four-year old puppy I chose from the humane society was on her last days. Weighed in at 152.5 pounds on my last day in the AZ.

UPSET

When I brought my Mom to the hospital to have her skin cancer removed.

INSPIRED

When I moved into my office.

WOUNDED

When my Dad changed, and then I gained 15 pounds.

RELIEVED

When my Mom moved forward.

HONORED

When I got my first tattoo in my Grandma Hill’s handwriting. I’m inked with ”sisu” a Finnish word my Grandpa Hill used to describe my Grandma Hill. It means strength of will, determination, perserverance against all odds.

CHERISHED

When we celebrated my IIN graduation with my family and closest friends.

SERENE

When I discovered the focus of my practice – upgrading cancer legacies.

SERENDIPITOUS

When two days later I opened an email for a Center for Advancement in Cancer Education (CACE) lecture in Eau Claire.

STRONG

When I completed a cancer support educator training hosted by CACE in Philadelphia two weeks later.

MAGICAL

When I look around now at all the people I’ve connected with, at all the support I have, at all the resources available, at all the people I’m serving, I’m absolutely loving, LOVING the magic of life! Knowing that my work makes a real difference and carefully weaves and pulls every experience from my life together is empowering. (And those 15 pounds…they’re already on the way out!)

~

That said, I have a smackerel of advice.

Be brave.

Get to know and trust yourself.

Face your fears.

Get comfortable in uncertainty.

Forgive your past.

And for the love, chose happiness, chose health, and chose you.

 ~

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