Getting the balance right

For the past week, I’ve been walking around with a crashing headache and have taken ’seriously crabby bitch’ to the next level.

Not that I’m taking it out on anyone (of course I wouldn’t, she lies). But I’ve been finding it hard to think straight or even speak with any lucidity. Some people think I’m tipsy. Most don’t notice (hmmm, that’s not a good thing, is it?).

No, it’s not early onset of dementia. It’s getting healthy – which involves the D-word (detoxing, I’ve discovered, is no fun at all).

I went to see a very lovely nutritionist/naturopath – and now I’m on a quest to improve the function of my adrenal glands, balance my hormones, and possibly even reveal my six-pack (which has been in the cooler-pack for way too long).

Apart from taking as many pills and potions as my 80-something mother does, I’m on a super healthy eating plan – which doesn’t involve chocolate, wine, coffee, or rice, pasta, bread, crackers, potatoes or yummy anything.

If it wasn’t for the damn headache (which drugs don’t budge) and having to be conscious of what I eat, I’d be feeling fine. I just really hate having to focus on food ALL the time – because that’s what happens when you’ve got to plan every meal and snack (like I have the time – or the inclination to hang around in health food stores).

So yesterday the voice of reason kicked in (aka: non-compliance, failure, whatev…) and I had a coffee and a slice of bread with vegemite (slap! slap!).

Almost instantly, the headache disappeared – and so did the bad mood.

Now, I’m not saying this whole detox, eat healthy, live forever stuff isn’t great – and I’m not giving up on ‘the plan’. I’ve just decided moderation is much more my style…

Besides, at my age I need all the preservatives I can get.

x Elle

 

The intray is full again…

I was talking to a friend of mine last week, and she was saying how overwhelmed she felt with everything she had to do. We talked about getting to the bottom of the ‘intray’ (of our lives, not the overflowing one on the desk).

It got me thinking – what’s the intray on your desk for? All my working life (long time passing), I’ve tried to use my intray for something other than the launch-pad to the rubbish bin; the place I put stuff I can’t get to right now (and clearly never will); the thing I ruthlessly clean out every six months.

It’s surprising what I find in my intray. Things that were so urgent three months ago have somehow been resolved without fuss. Articles I just had to read, that don’t catch my interest anymore. The business card someone pressed upon me at some event, before launching into a ten minute description of all the ways they could make my life better and my business more profitable. Conferences I forgot to go to. A timesheet I’d misplaced (in my intray?). And so much more. All tossed away without guilt…

Like the stuff you have to do in your life that you never get to, the intray kind-of hovers in your peripheral vision and occasionally sends you on a quick guilt trip.

I’ve decided that when I die, of course my ‘intray’ will be full. It’ll be crammed with all the to-do stuff that I never get to – because I’d rather be doing something else. Anything involving fun actually.

So I’m working on developing an immunity to the intray of my life – like the one I have to the overflowing, red faux leather thing on my desk.

I’m going to do what I’ve got to do to survive (and thrive). So is my friend, I hope. Wish us luck…

ciao

Elle