This morning. Inhale.
Began with doing yoga for myself, seated meditation, and my writing practice.
Sipping lemon water. Tart and warm. Scent still clinging to my fingertips from squeezing the juice.
Making my breakfast of local eggs, spinach, yogurt, and starfruit I picked off a tree.
I go into work from my center, from a place of being, to help others find their center.
Yesterday, my friend asked me in the afternoon if I wanted to come over for dinner. I said yes. I was able to say yes. I cried, overwhelmed with emotion that “yes” was my response.
I’m not in fairy land, I’m still exhausted; the residue of a doing life still breathes through my cells.  
 
Flashback. Exhale.
Try to inhale, but it gets stuck. Ache in my liver and spleen. That’s good information, I need to slow down. Let me look at iCal later and see when I can do that.
Obligated, fulfilled, can’t let anyone down, exhausted.
Go into work, barely ground myself at the last moment, support other people.
Try to find that one little place inside of me that is calm at the eye of the storm and operate from there. Work to find the good. Work to reframe.
Friend asks me if I want to grab a bite after work, in my head I laugh at the absurdity. I’m booking out dinner with people a month from now. Who can say yes to dinner that same night, ridiculous! I feel the longing and jealously.
 
As my dad says, my life depends on me getting out of my cycle that’s killing me. So, here I am in Hawaii. Inhale.
 
It sounds idyllic. I am set up for success here in almost every way, to heal, to exhale, this hectic, perfectionistic, exhausting lifestyle. Except for the neural pattern in my mind, and the imprint on my body of an entire lifetime that wonders: is this safe? Inhale. Can I slow down? Inhale. What are my beliefs about that, and the identity of outwardly visibly achieving, and who am I if that is stripped away? Gasp, inhale.. Not to mention, feeling scared to be healthy if that means loosing my feedback loop of liver pain which tells me to slow down… will the toxicity just creep in again? INHALE.
 
It’s scary and unfamiliar. So I do the best thing I know, I EXHALE. I breathe through the discomfort of slowing down, of trusting my body and my internal wisdom that knows this is crucial. I stretch, sip, breathe, connect. It’s okay, I’m okay.
 
It’s hard to redefine health for ourselves. I continue to battle with the sensation that slowing down means collapsing, I’m sick, I’m broken, I can't take a breath. That there is an active way to slow down and Yield, and come back to my essence which is held, restful, and okay, that the breath will come on its own. That this is my health. That I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. That I can just know I’m okay because this is the essential way that I was born into this world.
 
Our conditioning says to do shit…move fast, gasp for air, accomplish, show everyone our capacity, to get love.
Our essence says to be ourselves… move slower, healthfully, allow ourselves to be breathed, in the present, conscious of this precious life as it passes, to be love.
 
Our only job: Let it in. Trust. Recalibrate. Breathe.
 
From doing to being… my continual process as I ask myself: who am I now?

​I am choosing a different way.
 
Choosing to change before I collapse.
 
This is the time for courage, for drastic life changes, in service of breaking a pattern that has had me in it’s clutches. No more.
 
My belief and story that I must constantly do, accomplish, and perform to make my mark. To help. To have influence. To be of service. To feel I have value and worth.
 
I am painfully aware that just being feels like failure.
 
This insidious pattern has reared its head again. And I am choosing to do things differently. I refuse to collapse again.
 
Instead, I’m going to move to Hawaii. Yup, seriously, moving to Hawaii.
 
Let me be clear, this is not a “geographical intervention.” I mean, it is, but it’s not. I am moving. And it is a very intentional reasons, with eyes wide open.
 
Stress is the worst. It wears me down, my body screams at me to stop, and often it is too late before I hear my body’s pleas. So, it’s time to try something new. I am saying, not just saying but shouting out loud to the heavens: I choose my health.
 
I choose a life worthy of being present to, of remembering, of not missing. I am not dropping out, I am dropping in. I am showing up to be rather than do.
 
And I am giving the system of my body a break. It’s been working hard, but I’ve crossed a line of business that cannot continue. So it’s time to slow down, and soak up the potentially uncomfortable slowness, and space, to bring my pacing back to a healthy place.
 
This time it’s not because I’m sick and have to, but because I choose to preventatively.
 
What in your life feels like is asking to happen to support your health that you have not been willing to change? How do you move from talking about doing it, to having the bravery to step into the fire of change? 

With your constrictive, boring, brown shell, one awkward foot, and waving antennae
I had no interest in knowing you
In fact, I don’t think I ever paused long enough to know you were there
Or had value
And now, here we are.
I’m moving in, and this isn’t going to be pretty.
 
The thrill of going fast
My former home is more like the flea-circus
Seeing the world whip by
Adrenaline
Faster, faster, faster I spin in my circle
Absolutely convinced I am going somewhere
Even though I’m imaginary
Until I fly off the ride and get thrown into myself.
 
My speed numbed me out to the present moment
Suddenly a lifetime is gone
Only I actually lost it one second at a time all along the way
Life is intimately connected to that present moment I was numbing to.
 
And guess what?
The snail has been patiently waiting for me there all along
I mean, it’s a snail, what else does it have to do?
With a little sign: for sale by owner.
 
So I move in.
Thinking that downsizing is the way to go. More economical, right?
Let me tell you, the process of moving into snail-dom is painful.
 
Trapped in my shell, pushing outwards, in a space that feels cramped, tight, not my size.
I have too much furniture, too many thoughts.
This shell is exerting pressure on me to just be me.
Slowing down feels like suffocating,
Being strangled.
There must have been a mistake.
This clearly isn’t my shell.
Somehow I was given a tiny house, when I’m pretty sure I was supposed to have a mansion.
 
How could this be what my body and life want me to do?
Slow down.
Is this really the "lesson" that seems to keep showing up?
 
My body is desperately trying to live out my souls work, and teach my mind.
It says, listen mind, it’s okay to:
Take a breath
Then breathe into relationship, with yourself, and the people you love.
Slow down enough to feel every part of your environment impeccably
Attuning, sensing, being.
Suction to the present moment so that it can be felt intimately
Move in, and take time to discover the inner world that you’re inhabiting
Realize that there is a mansion in this tiny house…
 
I just didn’t know it because I happened to be swinging on a little flea-sized trapeze at the time.
 
Although I’ve had a sneaking suspicion for a while
I’m suddenly realizing that going so fast maybe isn’t the way to go about life.
Brilliant insight, I know.
 
Am I trapped?
What am I trying to put on a fantastical circus act to get away from?
 
What could it look like to consider accepting that I’ve already put a sizeable down-payment on this this shell?
Could feeling trapped turn into support?
The relief of simplifying.
Space and time to explore the magic of what is here, and who I am.
So much scenery potentially missed.
A breath taken right now.
 
I want to trust.
I’m still going somewhere, but the path is guided by this shell.
It has gravity and weight as opposed to death-defying feats.
It’s a recalibration, and that takes time.
And it can be painful and uncomfortable for us, and those around us to get used to.
 
It’s brave to downsize so we can appreciate the preciousness of what we already have,
Finding the intricacies of Self in our snailshells. 

​I hate quilts. Don’t worry, I didn’t just change my blog to be themed around an anti-pioneering sentiment. I hate quilts because of all those patterns. Sometimes I look at the patterns and get immediately overwhelmed and lost in them. 
 
Honestly, it feels like forever since I sat down to publish a blog. Why? (Thanks for asking by the way.) Because I scared myself with what I wrote 2 weeks ago when I began a blog. It felt so raw, dictated into my iPhone between sobs: poor Siri had no idea what I was talking about. I had to get a decoder ring out to decipher the dictation today. It was so personal I wasn’t ready to release it out into the world yet. There’s something to be said for honoring yourself and your timing.
 
This blog is about one of my many patterns… and really about patterns in general (so as I talk about mine, insert one of your own in there… the thing you want to change, and try to, but keeps coming back at varying degrees between slightly annoying and pull-your-hair-out-and-throw-something annoying. Ya, that one).
 
Do you ever notice that when you try to change that ingrained pattern that the universe pushes up against you, to test you, to see if you're strong enough to actually change? (Frustrated sigh)
 
Two weeks ago was that it’s-hard-to-shift-no-matter-how-hard-you-try kind of day. I couldn’t get any perspective because my stupid pattern felt like it was engraved in the fiber of my being, rather than just conditioning. You know, that moment where it seems like sometimes no matter how hard you try, those few patterns keep haunting you.
 
So here’s what I wrote:
 
I really want to slow down, I swear. Today I learned, no matter how hard I want this to shift, it's a battle. Over and over. Because not only do I have to convince myself, but it feels in this moment like I have to convince my family, and my culture.
 
Everyone wants me to keep doing. Achieving. All the time. No break. More more more.
 
Me? I just wanted a day off. But instead I got five hours of working out mountain biking, after four intense days of regular work. This happened because I couldn't use my voice. So instead of shifting things, I just did the same thing all over again. Doing, achieving, checking something else off the list. Another self-damaging activity disguised as an achievement.
 
I cried for the hour getting ready to go bike, straight through into the first two hours on my bike. I was so angry and sad I was doing the snotty weeping (which is extra not cute, by the way, when there’s wind). I was so upset at myself, because I couldn’t actively speak up to my family, my culture, and most importantly, my mind. Because I couldn’t advocate for the fatigue in my body when my relationships felt at stake. My health vs my dearest relationships. I value both so much, and sometimes they come head to head.
 
I want to create new neural patterns. Repeating the same thing deepens that pattern all over again. Literally it makes that neural pathway in our brain stronger. Again. Reinforces it. Yet here I am. Five hours of exercise stronger, making everyone around me happy, but my heart a little bit more broken for not honoring myself and my body. I guess I can always rest tomorrow. I am so aware that this is one of the reasons I got sick. And stay sick. And I don't know how much more strength I have to keep trying. (Knot in my stomach)
 
… Annnnd, flash forward to today. It hurts me to read what I wrote. But I also have a little more space from it, which feels refreshing. I wanted to share it with you because we all have those moments where we are in our brokenness, and feel like all the work we’ve done is pointless, because, well, here we are again.
 
And then there’s a new day. Brush off the dirt, and start anew. In the last 2 weeks I’ve fought for my rest time with new vigor. This was a painful experience to go through to be reminded that I’m my best advocate, but sometimes I suck at it. Here’s a fact: my important relationships will still be there at the end of the day. Even if I didn’t go on the silly bike ride. We can repair the ruptures, and still love each other. But my health has to come first. (Remind me I said this next time I blog about slipping up into over-achieving again… of course it’ll happen, because it’s not done teaching me yet.)
 
Painful to feel the “lather, rinse, repeat”… that I’m sometimes stuck in Groundhog Day. So hard to watch myself do things when I “know better.” When I want to honor my relationships, when I want people around me to be happy and I feel falsely like I actually have some control of that… maybe I do in the short term, but is it worth making myself literally sick over? Of course not. But sometimes it’s so hard to stand up for your own truth in your relationships.
 
So here are the bigger questions: How do we be kind to ourselves when our “dormant” patterns rear their ugly heads? (Because they will, and we won’t always be able to change in that moment.) How do we look back at a pattern that frustratingly got the best of us 2 weeks ago, and see how it pushed us to get more real with ourselves? How do we stay curious in honoring both our relationships and ourselves?
 
Maybe there are ways to enjoy the warmth of a quilt, despite the patterns.
 
Somehow we’re peeling layers of the onion, and turning coal into diamonds, and uncovering what’s already our inner wisdom, and all that. Wishing you kindness to yourself: we’re all still figuring this stuff out.

Feel free, as always to comment below if this feels true (or not!) for you too~

I look at my iCal calendar on my computer, all organized in bright vibrant color-coded blocks of time from 5:30a to 10p each day, to-dos at the top of each day at least 10 long and I choke on my inhale. Slow down. Breathe. Have patience.
 
But I should know better.
 
A few weeks ago I was doing better. I had days, whole days, that had nothing written on them… well actually, maybe one day. And, well, really that was in December. No, wait, in February I had 3 days off! Good job. Okay, well actually it was because I got the flu and couldn’t go to the 3 day training I was supposed to be at. I remember feeling so relieved I had a 102 degree fever so that I could take those days off to be at home. What’s wrong with this picture? 
 
I am exhausted. My liver aches. One thing gets added to my schedule unexpectedly and I feel overwhelmed, like I’m going to throw up, like I want to hide forever from the world and let go of all responsibilities. But I can’t, I’m committed,.  I did this to myself. 
 
My alarm clock goes off at 4:30am again.
 
I’m making myself sick by being busy. Being busy is my addiction.
 
And right now I’m relapsing. I’m consciously watching myself do my addiction, feeling powerless to stop it. Like I’m a victim of my calendar and all the things I have said “yes” to. Feeling like I need to do all these things in order to cope with what’s going on in my personal life, to cope with not wanting to feel. I’m too busy to have time to feel. How convenient.
 
And the world says: you’re amazing that you can do all of that, it’s inspiring. And I’m justified. Validated. Empowered. To keep doing my addiction. To "get shit done." To use my calendar to avoid living my life.
 
And then I’m fatigued. I’m exhausted. My abdomen aches.
 
You know better. This is how you got sick in the first place. Change your lifestyle. You have to.  And I judge myself. And my alarm goes off at 4:30a again.
 
STOP.  Just stop... Slow down sweet girl. You pace is dizzying, running around in a circle. Listen deep within. Grown up Zina has you now, and is rocking you. It’s okay. Just feel. Feel your precious heart and this moment of life that will not come back again. Who do you want to be when you grow up into this moment? Who do you want to be with? How does that time look, feel, and taste? Don’t miss your life.
 
Sometimes we relapse on our own toxic behavior. Even when we know our lives and health depend on us staying sober. And we suffer as we watch ourselves. And it’s okay… hand on heart, breath in belly. I caught myself sooner this time. I see my pain and frustration. I’m going to be okay, and I’m moving in the right direction.
 
I look at my calendar, start taking out blocks of color, make a few phone calls, sigh into the blank spaces. Alarm goes off at 7a.
 
I can choose to be busy, but less busy, and be aware and awake. I can have self-compassion. I can feel a little. I can be in community. I can do the counter-cultural thing. I can say yes, but also no. I can change. I can honor my health.
 
Does any of this feel true for you? Comment below: