Tag Archives: women’s health

The “Me Time” Medal: a week of wellness

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What does it take, I wonder, to just…stop?  To stop the madness of pushing buttons and swiping, clicking, scrolling from one screen to the next, taking trains, planes, and automobiles here and there and everywhere, booking that appointment up against the one before it and the one after it…instead of taking that hour to…eat?  Take a walk?  Stretch?  Or not do anything at all except…breathe?

I never thought of myself as a multi-tasker.  I left the rat race before I ever fully joined it.  I moved to a place that people yearn for, but only after they’ve lived in the “real world,” building careers and relationships and families in cities and suburbs– the Montana prize at the end of it, not the beginning of it.  Still, my kids make fun of me now during our Facetime calls.  “Let me guess, Mom.  You’re doing twenty-five thousand things at once.”

“Me?  No.  I am not.  I’m just…you know…running my business.  And writing two books.  And getting ready for my next retreat.  And paying my bills.  And booking my ticket for the Morocco Haven writing retreat.  And finding an Air B&B in Marrakech.  And researching the best and cheapest snow blower because I’m not going through another Montana winter without a snow blower.  And…”

They roll their eyes and laugh at me from my laptop on the kitchen counter, so it’s almost like they’re here again, doing the same thing.

“Huh.  Am I really that person?”

“Uh…what do you think?” my daughter says.

“You’re a chronic multi-tasker, Mom.  Admit it,” my son says.  “And it’s getting worse.”

“We’re worried about you,” she adds.

“Oh don’t be worried about me!  I love my work.  I love all of it.  And now that you’ve all fledged the nest, I’m told that there’s this thing called Me Time.  I think I could get used to that idea.  Oh, and don’t let me forget– I made Bolognese sauce and froze it last night.  For Christmas.  Oh, and I need to book your flights.”

“Mom.  We’re old enough to book our own flights.  And are you really taking care of yourself?  I mean, are you sick?  You sound sick.”

“Oh, it’s just a little cold.”  I’ve been holding it back, but I let out a bone rattling hack.  “Sorry.  What were you saying?  Oh yeah.  Flights.  Well, I’ll pay for them.  I’ll give you my credit card.”

“That cough sounds nasty.  You need to take a day off.  Have you even eaten today?”

“I had a smoothie this morning.”  The tides have turned, I guess.  I tell them that I’m fine.  I’m just run down.  I’ve just finished a seven week work marathon, leading four five day retreats and traveling to Minneapolis to do events, and I have a cold.  “My energy level is fine.  It sounds worse than it is.”

I.       Am.         Lying.

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The truth is, I’m sick as a dog.  I got back from my last business trip, and hit the wall.  I’ve been lying in bed for three days with a roll of toilet paper, (ran out of Kleenex), various and random tinctures and likely-expired remedies (my eyes are too goopy to see the fine print), Mason jars of water and Emergen-C, Tiger Balm, and something called Gypsy Cream that my friend made and which my raw nose really likes.  My eyes ache so I can’t effectively look at my computer.  I’m too tired to drive into town for supplies.  I haven’t been this flat-out ill in years.  It reminds me of being sick as a child—all set up in my parents’ bed watching The Price is Right and All My Children and General HospitalOnly there are no parents to take care of me now.

I make that thought go away and try to think light, un-pathetic things, like:  Do people even watch soap operas and game shows these days?

In the last three days, I’ve tried to find out—to make myself succumb to brain mush.  To let this cold be a gift of…Me Time.

I last about three minutes.  All those commercials with the women in creased khakis and pressed linen button-downs, happily scouring their white bathroom floors with one errant strand of hair fallen across their line-less foreheads.  Bleck.  Those women don’t exist and if any woman on earth thinks they do…they are in for abject and relentless PAIN when they wake up from the dream.

I turn the TV off so quickly, so allergically, that I wonder:  Was I in some sort of a motherhood dream?  Have I suddenly woken up, now that the last child is gone?  Because I’m in a lot of pain, and not just in my lungs.  It’s in my heart.  Not the one that beats.  The one that wants it all back, just for one day.  Those little babies climbing all over me so that there’s no time to do anything other than just blissfully be with them.  The ones who are telling me now that I’m a serial multi-tasker.  The ones who are worried about me.

IMG_3782I stare at the snow.  I really can’t let that snow stack up.  And I really need to get those airplane tickets.  And I have three business calls that I really need to take this afternoon.  I’ll just push Mute when I have to cough.  How hard is it to take calls in bed?  They won’t know, anyway.  They’ll think I’m in some sort of writerly Montana She Shack.  With distressed barn wood and black and white photos of Hemingway and Gertrude Stein and Anais Nin.  Instead of balled-up toilet paper all around me, and pillows which have lost their cases in the mayhem of all this tossing and turning and coughing and blowing.  And self-pity.

But this cold won’t let me lie to myself.  It only lets me lie in bed.  Just like my children have prescribed.

When I have the energy to move, I make bone broth and tea and slog up to bed again.  I’ve lost my sense of taste.  Even my lover, Earl Grey, tastes like mucus.  Everything tastes like mucus.  My head feels like it weighs twenty pounds.  I should probably cave and take cold medicine, which I hate.  But I don’t even have cold medicine in the house.  I’ve always told my kids that we should feel our symptoms so that we are true to them.  “We need to honor our bodies, not pretend we’re fine, when we’re not.”  When did I become such a hypocrite?  Was it the minute I dropped my second child off at college and came home to Empty Nest?

My kids text me later.  “You okay?”

This is new.

“I’m fine,” I repeat.  “I’m about to take a nap.”

Which I don’t.  Instead I stare at the snow melting on the roof, trying to think Me Time Empty Nest thoughts:  I need to search ebay for a cheap snow blower.  Does that count?IMG_3782

And then, in the way back of my mucus-y mind, in my grandmother’s southern drawl, I hear:  “Dear.  I’m worried about your mother.  She works too hard.  She needs to take a rest.”  I remember thinking as a child that, based on the sternness in my grandmother’s brow, we had a real problem on our hands:  that my mother might even die from hard work.  That maybe there was no medal at the end of all her achievements, even though it seemed like she was going after one.  She always seemed like she was medal-worthy to me.  But my grandmother’s worry felt more important than any work—even change-the-world work.

My God.  Are they worried about me the way I was worried about my mother?  Am I passing the baton to my kids and are they insisting that this incessant hard-work-to-the-point-of-self-violence gene needs to end?

Because, just like her, I’m always throat-high in a project.  Or three.  Or yes, maybe even twenty-five thousand.  Always more blue blocks on my Google calendar than white ones.  I heard Joan Rivers say on a talk show once something to the tune of, “When I have an empty calendar, I’ll know my life is over.”  Am I like that? I wonder, watching the gutters do their job.  Frankly, they look tired too.

I don’t think of myself as a workaholic.  I mean, I live in Montana.  I work in my pajamas a lot of the time– don’t even own a business suit.  I drive a totaled truck and stop it often, on the side of the road, to take in the unabashed beauty of big sky country.  I spent years playing with my kids on the floor, reading with them and singing with them and snuggling with them.  Yes, I worked out of the home, but I was always just a few steps away if they needed me, and once they went to school, I worked on my career, yes, but I never missed a recital or a school program, and hardly missed a game.  I was that mom.

IMG_3782But now that they’re gone…have I put the pedal to the floor instead of allowing myself to be in neutral for a while?  And…if I’m being brutally honest…do I really want to get to know myself again, outside of my motherhood and my work?  And while I’m at it…since I can no longer bury myself in my motherhood, have I now buried myself in work so that I don’t have to be in this thing called Empty Nest, the memories lurking in every surface of this home?  Most of them so joyous.  Some of them, so not.  Am I going to be a total disaster at Me Time?

What would it take for me to actually…enjoy this Empty Nest?  This Me Time.  People tell me that it’s time to be selfish.  I have a friend who said, just before my son left for college, “I’m going to check on you every week and see if you’re doing something just for you.  Something new and different, to get to know yourself outside of your motherhood and your career.”

“I’m planning on having more time to write and publish books.  And travel.”

“I don’t mean writing.  Or traveling.  I mean at home.  Something you haven’t tried before, right where you live.”

“Like what?” I asked her, truly blank.

She smiled.  “Like…tango lessons.  Like…fly-fishing.  Something just for you.”

Huh.

“I take a bath every night.  Does that count?  I can’t get enough of Modern Family and Anthony Bourdain (may he rest in peace) re-runs.  There are stacks of books on my bedside table.  Which I read hungrily.  I write every morning.  These are all ways of taking care of myself.  Aren’t they?”

“Mmmmm.  You need to do something…new.”  She knows.  She believed in newness so much that she left her job in Chicago and moved, solo, to Montana.  I’ve never seen her so happy.

IMG_3782Lying here, blowing my nose and feeling so inert, so unproductive and blob-ish– I wonder if I thought that there would be a medal at the end of motherhood.  Like graduation.  Like people would stand up for you and clap and give you a fancy scroll that you can frame and hang on the wall to prove your hard work.  And I wonder, since that doesn’t exist, if I have just succeeded in transferring all of that gumption, all of those hours that I’m no longer parenting day to day, into my career.  Sure looks like it, I think, staring at the snow melting.  And it also sure looks like my body’s not having it.  At all.

So I give in and just allow the last seven weeks to flicker by like a home movie on the snowy roof:  I dropped my son off at college, came back, and two days later began my work marathon.  I worked intimately with over fifty women in my five day and one day retreats and workshops.  I gave them everything I possibly could give.  I loved it like I loved…well, my motherhood.  I always do.

But in planning my fall schedule last year, I must have been absolutely terrified of Empty Nest because from September to December, there were pretty much only blue blocks on my Google calendar.  No white ones– not after 6:00 am or before 8:00 pm.  And no green ones at all– the places where my motherhood used to live.  I colored everything blue with Work.  I don’t remember doing it.  But I must have looked at those white spaces and gone Marsha Brady, filling it all in to the brim.  Never a moment to stop.

And now…surprise:  I’m sick.  It’s such a beautiful sunny snow day.  I could be out playing in it instead of lying here feeling miserable.

I breathe in and let out a long emphysema-sounding sigh.  What if I use this illness to practice on?  What if, just for this week, I cleared those blue blocks to white space, and didn’t fill them with anything?  I mean really…nothing.  Not even the Food Network.  Or Netflix.  Or even a bath.  My retreat season is over.  All of the blue blocks are things that can wait, at least a week.  What if I allowed myself to just lie here and watch the snow melting off the roof and felt my infected lungs rising and falling and let myself feel grateful for each breath that doesn’t erupt in a hack.

For one solid week…what if I didn’t write anything or read anything or do anything or try to be anything, outside of well?  What if this white-spaced nothing…is the medal?  The Me Time Medal.  What did Winnie the Pooh say?  “Doing nothing often leads to the very best of something.”  And then, after I’m over this cold…what if I kept it going—this commitment to the white blocks of nothing?  Sure, there’ll be blue blocks.  I like it that way and my bank account requires it too.  But what if I learned to value the white just as much?

IMG_3782I ask us all, because I’ll just bet that you can relate:  Do we have to get sick to stop?  Or can we just stop for no reason other than:  we know we need to.  We know it’s good for us.  We want to be good to ourselves.  And if we are…maybe the “medal” is wellness.  Happiness.  Peace.  We can at least try.

So for just this moment: 

Just…let your chest rise and fall. 

Feel your heart beating. 

Let your heavy head fall back. 

You don’t have to hold it up right now. 

Something can hold you.

I’ll try it too.  Today, all day, right after I do this writing thing that I know is good for me, but that I also know is still a way of doing not being…I’m going to let my head fall into pillows, close my eyes.  Breathe.  Be.  And let my body heal.

Maybe tango lessons next week.  Who knows.

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Now Booking Haven Writing Retreats Montana  2019!  (special holiday discounts!!!!)

Come join me in Montana and find your voice! Write your book! Court your muse…all under the big sky.  You do not have to be a writer to come to Haven.  Just a seeker…longing for community, inspiration, support, and YOUR unique form of self-expression using your love of the written word!

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Go here for more info and to set up a call with Laura! 

***Haven Wander:  Morocco is full.

 

 

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What Does Self-Care Really Mean?

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I’m glad that Self-Care is finally a “thing.”  I’m glad that when we hear that phrase now, it’s not considered selfish so much as it is believed to be self-preservational.  But I hail from the former way of thinking and it’s taken me a lot to arrive at the latter.  I think I’m officially…finally…sorta-kinda-maybe-please-God…there.

But first…let’s dip back into the 1960s.  And 70s.  And 80s.  People didn’t “work out” when I was growing up.  Handsome men had bodies like Rock Hudson and Cary Grant—with soft middles and borderline man-boobs, skinny legs and gentlemen bi-ceps.  Women had “love handle” hips, and god-forbid muscle mass.  Hell, Marilyn Monroe was a size 14.  Super models were a size 6.  I was a size 6 and people told me I was too skinny.  When I became a size 8, people told me I was “just right.”  No one belonged to a gym.  The only mainstream Yoga was with Lillian on PBS– strictly spiritual, not for sculpting an attract-a-Hedge-fund-manager ass.  Frozen yoghurt was a sexy craze, especially with carob chips on top.  Woo-woo!  Health food was for Hippies.  Milk came from cows, and you were supposed to drink a lot of it.  Plenty of the population smoked and boozed and not a lot of people felt guilty about it.  When Jane Fonda hit the scene in make-it-burn leg warmers and striped leotards, we all were a bit confused.  When Richard Simmons introduced this thing called jogging, my grandmother said, “how unattractive, jiggling yourself all over the road like that.”  She and her Marshall Fields girdle.  She was also known to say, “Why stand when you can sit, and why sit when you can lie down” and made a mean southern fried chicken.  She lived to be 98.

I’m not saying that these were better times.  I’m just saying…that people had a very different relationship with their bodies then…compared to now.  Some people joined the fitness craze.  I didn’t.  I was lucky.  My body was just naturally healthy and fit.  Fit enough, anyway, so that I didn’t think too much about it.  As I moved into the “real world” from college, I walked and rode my bike as much as I could, but more because I didn’t have a car.  I ate healthy food, because healthy food was everywhere.  I lived in Seattle, after all.  Organic food was the norm.  Farm to table was the standard.  Foraging was a good afternoon in the forest with friends.IMG_4873

My mid-western father would scoff:  “Why do you have to go and spend all that money on fancy food.”

“Because when you were young, all food was organic, Dad!  They weren’t poisoning it!”

He never bought it.  He ate the same old same old.  He walked the Chicago Loop every day to work.  Played a little tennis.  A little golf.  Raked a lot of leaves.  He lived to be 86.  Worked happily until he died.  Healthy to his final good-byes.

“You come from good farm stock,” he’d always say.  And I believed him.  All the way through my 30s.

But little by little, as I moved into my late 30s, I started to feel like I was missing out on this fitness craze.  My friends’ bodies were looking sculpted and better in bathing suits, (bikinis, mind you)…than we all did in our 20s!  They were, in their words, “Getting after it.”

I wasn’t sure what the “it” was, but I figured I’d better give it a whirl.  My body hadn’t really recovered from having two children, and I hadn’t worn a pair of jeans, never mind a bikini, in years.  And in my subconscious I knew…(I just didn’t want to admit)…that I had honored my mind all my life.  My writing was the outward sign of that.  In it all…there was always writing.  Writing doesn’t make your ass look great in jeans, but it feeds the soul.  Writing has always been the constant, all my life.  I still hold:  that writing should be up there with diet and exercise in the realm of preventative wellness.  Key word:  exercise.IMG_4873

Exercise meant moving my body.  I knew how to move my mind.  My body was secondary and always had been.  I knew that it was supposed to be my temple, but I didn’t need it to be a fancy one.  I’d watched plenty of women attempt that.  It had always seemed so frivolous.  Like such a vacuous pursuit.  The columns of my temple had seemed well-enough fortified to hold up more important affairs—that of the mind and soul and spirit.

But now it seemed like those columns were starting to become a little bit shaky.  (Side note:  No one was calling this “it” Self-Care.  Yet.)  And it occurred to me that without my body…my mind wasn’t worth much.

So I went after this version of “it.”  Hard.  I joined the gym, got a personal trainer, and worked out every day, rode horses three times a week, got a nutritionist, and heck, while I was at it…a therapist to see how to connect my mind to my body once and for all.

Those happened to be days when there was some money in the bank, but even still, I felt guilty and self-indulgent.  What was I trying to prove to myself, anyway?  That I was strong?  That I had willpower?  That I could be skinny and fit like the rest of the women out there who seemed to agelessly fit into designer jeans?  I was never that woman to begin with.  I had energy.  I felt healthy.  But this pursuit did not make me feel happy.  I started to dread the gym.  All those people going nowhere fast on all those machines.  And here we lived in Montana!  What was wrong with taking a good old-fashioned walk?

Then one day, I walked into the gym and this woman came out of the yoga room with a towel over her shoulder.  “You just missed yoga,” she said like the worst mean girl in high school.  Was this some sort of competition?  Were people trying to win some sort of medal?  It brought up all of my early childhood I’m bad at sports S***.  And I turned around and didn’t come back.  Aggressive gym people weren’t my peeps.  Especially aggressive yoga gym people.  I stuck to my horse.  And walks in the woods.IMG_4873

But I’m a writer.  I sit for a living.  My back was a mess.  My stomach was slack like it had never been before in my life.  And then I fell off my horse (but at least it’s a helluva good story—other day, other blog post) and spent three months in bed.  I felt weak.  And frustrated.  I was in my mid-40s then, and my body was changing.  Fast.

And then the damn steps thing had to come out.  And suddenly everyone was bragging about how many frigging steps they took.  At my kids’ soccer games.  At the grocery store.  So then it wasn’t enough to lift some weights in my living room and get my heart rate up on my treadmill or up the ridge for half an hour.  Now I had to have 10,000 steps a day if I wanted to live to see my grandchildren.  Oh, and p.s. suddenly milk came from nuts.  So coffee could never taste good again.  And you couldn’t eat a good loaf of bread.  And butter was absolutely positively out.  And so basically, I couldn’t eat anything except for avocados.  And almond butter.  And bananas.  But only before noon.  And freaking kale.  And brussel sprouts.  And BEETS.  Couldn’t a girl get a good steak in this world of “getting after it?”  I was depressed.  I’m sure of it.  My temple, including my mind, was crumbling.

So…I just gave up.  On the whole thing.  Ate as much butter and toast as I damn well pleased.  Felt guilty about each bite.  Turned my treadmill into a clothes rack.  Felt guilty about it.  Took walks when I wanted to.  And felt guilty when I didn’t.  Basically I guilted myself into a place of not eating.  And not moving.  Just sitting and writing.  And that doesn’t work either.  Menopause really doesn’t like not eating and not moving.  So suddenly…no clothes fit.  And I noticed one day that I was starting to get that thing under my chin that my grandmother had.  The one who said, “Why stand when you can sit and why sit when you can lie down.”  I’d blown my thyroid.  And my blood pressure, in my doctor’s words, “sucked.”  I was moving rapidly into my 50s.  My face, and a lot of my skin, had fallen.  And it couldn’t get up.

Things needed to change.  Really change.  I needed to rip up my relationship with my body and my mind…and start all over again.  I needed to ease out of all of this mania.  Find a new way.  A way that would work for me.  Because I realized that somehow, after everything I had tried…I was still separating my mind from my body.  I wasn’t caring for my whole self.IMG_4873

And then this thing called Self-Care came along.  People were talking about it and it didn’t have anything to do with a gym.  Or kale.  It had to do with something that met me in a place I had been longing for all my life.  A place that I only knew on the page with a pen in my hand, or tapping a keyboard.  I wanted to learn just what Self-Care really meant.  Not as an action verb.  But as a way of being.

So I hired a therapist.  Again.  Fifteen years later.  Maybe this one would help me in a new way.  In a way that would feed my soul.  A way that would be about my whole self.

One day, in her bright little office by the river, she gave me a little frame with the word:  gentleness in it.  “Keep it for as long as you need it,” she said.

“What am I supposed to do with it?  Anything specific?”

She smiled.  “Just…whatever you want.”

So I put it on my bedside table.  I’m in my bed a lot.  My office has become overrun with too many stacks of too much grown-up left brain stuff.  My bed is soft and safe and holds my muse well, especially in these weeks before my house empties, my son goes to college, and it’s just me.

At first I wasn’t so sure about it.  I have plenty on my bedside table already.  Stacks of books of poetry and spiritual texts, fiction, and non-fiction.  Essential oils and candles and journals and so many really good pens.IMG_4873

And now this little frame.  Gentleness.  In lower case loopy script.  I figured it would get lost in the shuffle.

Instead…my eyes caught on it over and over.  Probably five-ten times before I even finished my morning writing.  Probably another ten times during the second cup of tea.  Again later folding laundry.  Talking to my daughter, away in California on her first post-collegiate job.  I miss her like crazy.

Gentleness.

Talking to my son, as he comes in with baseball news and plans for the night and the ever-present-request of gas money.  He drives the old Suburban after all and there’s no way to work when you’re playing Legion ball.  Still.  I am not made of money.  But man, am I going to miss that kid.

Gentleness.

Each time my eyes meet this little word in this little frame, I realize that my shoulders are tight.  My jaw is clenched.  And it does something to me.  I take in a breath and sigh.  Loosen whatever is tight.  It feels so nice.  So…gentle.IMG_4873

Gentleness.

My mother is moving.  She wants to know if I want my father’s WWII Army blanket and duffle bag.  If I want her old record player.  If I’m going to show up at my son’s Parent’s Weekend in Minnesota, even though I lead a retreat a week prior, and a week after.  And if she can come.

Gentleness.

And I’ve realized…that I have lived so much of my life bracing against it all.  I don’t have to.  Anymore.  Gentleness can be the most powerful way I have ever lived.

In the last few weeks with this new little frame as my companion, I’ve learned to be gentle about the way I care for myself.  It doesn’t come easily to me.  At all.  Taking care of others comes easily to me.  Taking care of myself…that still feels like a tall order.  But being gentle with myself?  I can do that.  In little moments.  Baby steps.  And I know…babies fall hard.  But they get up.  I was that baby once.  We all were.

I’ve found that the first place to start is with this gentleness.  To give myself permission to find my way to Self-Care, and not judge myself if it looks very different from how others might approach theirs.  Like you’ll probably never find me in a gym.  Or in an ISO floating tank.  Or running a marathon.  Or counting my steps with a watch on my wrist.

On a good week it looks like this:  riding horses.  Doing daily yoga in my living room.  And writing.

On a normal week it looks more like this:  taking walks.  Doing a few yoga poses here and there.  And writing.IMG_4873

I try to be kind to myself.  To go slowly.  To realize that to sit and be and notice and stop the madness of this cyber “cult of the personality” * which has become our civilization…is a powerful way of caring for ourselves.  We don’t have to be in constant motion.

Maybe I’ll be soft around the belly.  Maybe my heart rate won’t be monitored by a machine.  I’ll know it’s working by the way it carries me up the ridge behind my house.  I’ll know I’ve honored my body when I wake up the next day and feel that I moved it well.  I’ll know by the look in my eyes:  that my grandmother was right that carrots make them bright.  I’ll eat my carrots.  But not because I’m supposed to.  But because I delight in how they give themselves to me so that I can keep on going.

Gentleness.

There is a prayer that I use, not just for food, but for all that I do for my body and soul.  May it help you feel gentleness and gratitude.

This food is a gift from the whole universe.

The earth, the sky, and much hard work.

May we be mindful of our deeds as we receive this food.

May it transfer hatred, anger, and greed.

May it prevent illness and keep us well.

In gratitude, we receive this nourishment, that we may seek the path of love, compassion, and wisdom.

(A variation on the prayer by Thich Nhat Hanh)

Gentleness then, to us all.

Love,

Laura

* Braided Creek

For information about the February Haven Wander:  Morocco, click here!

For more information about Haven Writing Retreats, Montana click here!  We have few spots available for the 2018 fall schedule! 

To arrange for a phone call with the Haven team, email:  Laura@lauramunson.com

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Tips on Creature Comforts from my Facebook Posse! (Beds, Bras, Skin-care, and much more…)

olive grove-001It seems I’ve tapped into some serious zeitgeist over on Facebook in the last months, as I’ve been exploring some of my creature comfort needs…and it’s turned into some mighty social media crowd sourcing!  Thank you to all of you who have given me your tips on things like, you know, bras.  And skin care products.  And beds.  And tea.  And happy songs.  And a lot of other things too.

It all started with these words:  ”Help!  My face has fallen and it can’t get up!”  That got 97 comments in about half an hour.  Then: (heck– why not)  ”Help!  My boobs have fallen and they can’t get up!”  64 comments, rapido rapido.  Beds:  75 great tips, and fast.  The ultimate Earl Grey?  Lots of Earl drinkers out there, turns out.  Even names for a strong female protagonist (213 comments).  In fact, my Facebook friends have helped me so much, that I thought it would be helpful to create a list of some of their best tips, with some of the comments, here on my blog.  So here you go.   I haven’t tried 99.9% of any of them yet.   Still sleeping in a 15 year old squeaky bed, using water on my face, period, and am helplessly devoted to a few old jog bras.  But looks like that all might change!

Creature comfort wisdom from my Facebook friends. 

SKIN LINES

Beauty Counter  (started by a friend of mine!)

From the Lab  (started by a friend of mine!)

La Mer – “pricey but worth it”

Coconut Oil – “eat it too!”

Indian Meadows Herbals – Love your Face Cream “Love Your Face Cream – Original Formula. It’s fabulous. I like all of their products. It’s made with 76% organic herbs, oils, and aloe. I use it every day, and I’m 57. If only they’d invent something that works for under-eye circles!”

Dermalogica – “ used Dermalogica for 25 years. Night repair creams, oils, and masks are important now, especially in MT. Above all drink an insane amount of water to keep your brain and skin hydrated.”

Rodan + Fields – “#1 anti aging skin line in America and I’ll give you the “author” discount”

Amlactin – “You can purchase it over the counter in any pharmacy. It’s an alpha hydroxy lotion. That combined with Retin A – which you need a prescription for. I use Retin A every night and Amlactin twice a day. But be careful using Amlactin till your skin adjusts to the Retin A because it can sting when your skin is fragile. Takes time to adjust to Retin A. Go super sparingly in the beginning! This is the regimen recommended by my deem. I think it has helped my skin!”

Tata Harper

Cetaphil – “Recommended by my dermatologist. Followed by some Paula’s Choice products.”

Paula’s Choice

Oil of Olay

Nerium AD

Kiels – “no more expensive products”

Roc Moisturizer

Arbonne – “Arbonne is by far the best. I am 64 and have been using it for 7 years. Seriously, Laura, it’s good stuff. I just got back from a Convention and they reformulated the RE9 line and it is super clean and nontoxic…..I can give you some samples when I get to town.”  “Loveeeee anti aging line, pure ingredients, safe, green, just as beneficial as the number one skincare line but has safe ingredients!!”

Mary Kay – “You wouldn’t believe how forward thinking the company is now and it exceeds European Union standards as far as cosmetic companies go.”

Dr. Hauschka

Boots UK

No. 7

Image Skin Care –  https://www.imageskincare.com/ “I am not fifty, but I do love the changes I’ve noticed in my skin since using their ageless and lightening lines (tighter, brighter, less fine lines) and am all about preventative care. Raw honey makes a fantastic face cleanser.”

Zillis Zen Renew – “It’s got Botox effects without the Botox. Ladies are going crazy over it”

Elta MD Sunscreen –  It’s medical grade , affordable, and has no nasty parabans, etc. Aside from that, I use botox and Instagram filters.” “I agree, I use their tinted sunscreen”

Shisedodo

Beauty Counter

Plexus

Synchronology Skincare – rocks and is reasonably priced

Clarins

Rosehip and Baobab oil – “as a moisturizer.  Also Emu oil if that’s up your alley.”

Ponds Night Cream – “ My grandmother swore by ponds night cream under the eyes every night. I am sticking to it! Plus, the smell is soooo nice.”

Cerave - “ especially if you have sensitive skin. Dermatologist recommended this years ago.”

Botox

Skin Medica TNS – from a derm nurse

My Prime Transformative Cream –  It is a little $$ but worth it. I also love

YBF Correct eye cream – “but this one’s too $$ for me, so I don’t use it any more.”

Kar Gran Cosmetics –  I wrote an essay for them because I love their clean, aromatic oils: https://blog.karigran.com/wearyourselfin/new-test-article/

RoC

Envrion – “it’s amazing”

Beyond good lotions & potions, get good consistent sleep, hydration (H20) and avoid salt and alcohol as much as you can stand and still ‘live a little.’ Plus Retin A. And exercise to get the blood flowing.

Neutrogena - “works well with all skin types”

Grace green Beauty –  https://gracegreenbeauty.com/

Loccitane Immortelle Divine Cream

Salt water rines (made with sea salt and bottled water. Use coconut oil as moisturizer

Chanel Sublimage – Cleanser, Serum, Eye Cream Moisturizer – “the best”

Willing Beauty –  “just launched this month its a sister company of origami owl, I have been using a week and it’s AMAZING “

Lancome Renergie – at Costco online

Differin – “which basically Retin A started out as — is a prescription strength form of retinol sold over the counter. My dermatologist made me start after I had some burn related discoloration on face. But it is a miracle worker on fine lines and such. I use one week on one week off.” “ Differin is $13 at Target recommended by my dermatologist instead of Retin A.”

Olay Regenerist

Orgins Drink up Intensive Overnight mask – “use it all winter”

Skinceuticals

Laurel Whole Plant Organics – “100% natural”

Murad – “scents aren’t overhwleming and they dont’ engage in animal testing”

And this one made me LOL.  I’ve never done Botox, or a Medical Peel, but this person has a lot to say about it, and she’s funny!

Medical Grade Chemical Peel - “ I don’t believe in spending $80 on a jar of cream when you can spend $80 once a month for a medical grade chemical peel at a medspa. In the city, you can get Botox for $4.50 a unit on Groupon and for 30 units, not have a wrinkle for the next 4 months. I tell my aesthetician that I want to look young but still be able to shoot a look across the room to my son that says, “Knock that shit off right now.” She somehow nails it every time. I have total movement. Yes, I think doing a peel four weeks apart makes so much difference! I do them for four months in a row and then bask in the glory of nothing for six months and then start them again. Also, my partner is an anesthesiologist and he just did one treatment with an in office thing called a skinpen and his colleagues all said he looked 15 years younger. I am going to try that next. It’s around $125 for one treatment and he had one six months ago but is about to have another one now before his daughters grad school graduation.

Here’s the thing about chemical peels – for the first one, if you had a loaded gun in your hand you’d shoot yourself because you just can’t believe it’s okay and that the pain will actually stop. It does stop. Five minutes in. The second time you have it is much better. The first one is just really nasty because you have so much old skin to burn off until you get to the dermis. The third time, I could be emailing colleagues it’s so easy. Like Botox, the more you do it, the more it starts PREVENTING damage. Mostly because you always have fresh, new, glowing skin. But if you have dark sun spots, like my partner, then you’d be amazed at the skin pen in between a chemical peel. For me, I had an issue with old red healed acne spots. They disappeared the very first peel. It’s really incredible witchcraft. Oh – also, if you are considering derma fillers, I can update you. The old issue of lip injections, etc. is that it used collagen. Now, it uses a type of ingredient that already is in our skin and our body removes naturally over the course of six months or so. But here’s the witchcraft – if you don’t like it, there is now an antidote! So they inject the counter to it and it dissolves right then! It’s pretty amazing how far we’ve come. Because of this, I’m considering fillers now. But they do fillers and chemical peels on hands now that swear makes an 80 year old look 20. You can google before and after images online of restalyne hands and be amazed. In the US, it is illegal for a pharmaceutical company to use before and after pictures without indicating how many treatments they have received. With restalyne, it never says because it’s only ONE TREATMENT! AMAZEBALLS!”

 OK…now on to my next one, “Help, my boobs have fallen and they can’t get up!”  Such great “support” from my friends!

BRAS:

Wacoal – “game changer, underwire or not” https://www.wacoal-america.com/all-bras_wacoal-bras-catalog/

Rosa Faia – “very pricey but a game changer. So comfortable” http://www.anita.com/shop/en_global/soft-bra-serie-twin-24ebd5.html

Chantelle - http://www.chantelle.com

Soma Intimates – “enhancing shape bras!” “love soma”

Madewell “comfy t-shirt material bras”

Coobies – “very comfortable and seamless. Sometimes i sleep with them on.” “Very comfortable but not a whole lot of support. But they don’t feel like you’re wearing a torture device”

Sage and Cedar, Whitefish, MT (store)

Target’s Champion line “great lift andshaping. And non underwire.”

Underarmour – “good underwire”

Adore Mr. – “well made and inexpensive”

Third Love

Olga and Warners

Knix Wear - https://www.knixwear.com/collections/evolution-bra

Soma

The Pact – “camisole with built-in bra.”

Tommy Hilfiger

Title Nine/Anita Sports Bra – “wear it all the time for everything. Soft and uplifting, but no under wire. If you are a booby girl, but narrow set in the chest (not too to broad in chest measure but larger in cup size) this may work very well.”

And here’s where people created our own personal consumer report!

14656327_10153757139241266_4563344988189324412_nMATTRESSES

Temper Cloud Supreme Mattresshttp://www.oprah.com/gift/Tempur-Cloud-Supreme-Mattress?editors_pick_id=27470   “I bought the one Oprah recommended a few years ago and it was terrible. I think it actually got pulled from the market it was so bad and we got our money back. It was the Dr. Breus mattress and it was THE WORST! it completely caved in in the middle.”

Tempurpedic Cloud with Supreme Breeze for cooling. “ Got the adjustable frame even though we didn’t think we were interested. Don’t regret a thing!” “Tempurpedic with all the cooling stuff you can get. It feels weird at first but once you get used to it every other bed feels like you’re laying on wadded socks.”

Temperpedic – “best ever $$$$ that’s what we use” “We have one too. Love it. We even got the adjustable frame” “best sleep ever” “We love our tempurpedic mattresses. Best nights sleep even with a back full of titanium!”

Sleep Number - “So worth the investment.” “The way to go. Love mine” “We JUST bought this during a Sleep Number half price sale. It’s too new for me to properly review — I haven’t finished setting up all the interactive functions. (It assesses the quality of your sleep each night via their app!). So far, so good…https://www.sleepnumber.com/…/Innovation-Series-Beds/p/iLE”  “it’s an air mattress with two sides (but you can’t tell it’s an air mattress–it seems totally like a normal mattress). But this way you can have a hard mattress and your partner can have it soft or whatever.” “Even my spinal doctor and the neurosurgeon who put my broken neck said the same.”

Coco-Mat USA -” check out this place for toppers and pillows! I know you asked about mattresses and they probably make them too, but my pillow from there is the best. It was an investment, but worth it.”

Double Seely from Sears – “Box spring, mattress, delivery, removal of ancient set cost less than 600 clams.

I’ve never slept better…not just the bed structure, but how nice not to go into debt for slumbering:

Duxiana

Wyndam – “wyndam that sells beds..hotels…always comfy. I would consider for my next purchase.”

Four Seasons Hotel – “sell complete sets: mattresses, sheets and duvets by Frette or Pratesi. Worth asking them.”

Keetsa

Memory Foam Mattress – Having worked years in natural medicine, with a focus on toxins, I have to say that an organic cotton (3 stack for comfort) futon mattress is the only way I go. My boys often try and steal into my bed, still, because of the comfort. Just beware…you will want to sleep all the time on such support. Our spines are best served when we mimic sleeping on the soft ground. Anything else I sleep on makes me ache, in one way or the other. When we spend a third of our lives sleeping, best to avoid such high toxins so close to our preciousness. Interested to see what you conclude. http://www.sleepjunkie.org/are-memory-foam-mattresses-safe/

Northwest Bedding Legacy 200 – “$1,000 recently on a new mattress….I see it as an investment in my health, and am very happy with my choice.” “ There’s an all natural one made from bamboo. Pricey but we never regretted it!”

Casper

Sterns and Fosterhttp://m.macys.com/shop/mattress/stearns-foster-mattress?id=25946  “I love mine” A firm Stearns and Foster with a 2″ memory foam topper to remove discomfort at pressure point

The Davenport – “delicious”

Wrights sells bed

Tuft & Cotton – $600. It was guaranteed. If after 90 days I think it was – if you don’t like it. Donate it – they will refund your money. Do your homework – there are a lot of brands out there that broke the code on overpriced mattresses. We simply Googled – what is the best mattress/why/traditional vs foam etc. there are lots of options & plans. Treat yourself to sheets too. I bought a 2000 count and felt like a queen.

Starwood properties – Don’t think twice call and get their heavenly bed same as in hotels is amaze

Saatva Mattress - They have a traditional mattress and a memory foam mattress. No showroom, you buy online. Delivery charge includes full installation. We love our memory foam mattress and wouldn’t sleep on anything else now. About 1200 for a king, 3 pieces. Very firm. The edges of the mattress are reinforced so there is no sagging if you frequently sit on the side of the bed. We’ve had ours for about a year and a half and it still feels great, no sagging, and no permanent indentations where we sleep. “I love my Satva mattress. Natural no outgassing and amazing comfort for less than mattress store prices”

Hunter and Co – organic – Savvy Brand can customize for your needs.

Vispring – Was expensive 20 years ago. All organic and natural fibers.. Mine is almost 20 years old and still wonderful. Have a list of hotels where you can test drive. FSelected this mattress because it was incredibly firm with a pillow top built in. Web site lists hotels to trial. Test drive to see if it works for you.

Tuft & Needle – Not quite memory foam – but firm and amazing. www.tuftandneedle.com

Ikea Beds – mostly organic, great varieties and super inexpensive!

Eclipse Mattress –  I love the Eclipse we bought for my mom. It’s a dream. Salesman said it’s organic or nontoxic or something too… which I never investigated just how “eco” it was… but is a nice added perk! We got a “natural seasons” http://www.eclipsemattress.com/…/perfe…/natural-seasons/

Cannot recommend it more. I can’t wait for mine to wear out so I can get one for me!

Wrights Mattress store – We just bought one from Wright’s. They use solely a bed manufacturer in Spokane. Our whole house sleeps on their beds. We just got one that they customized with an organic topper for a very reasonable cost. Message me if you want more info!

General advice on beds:

1.) Buy from a place that allows free returns, such as Mancini’s Sleep Works, because you can’t tell by lying on them in the store. 2) Get a FIRM classic innerspring bed if you have a bad back. 2) Sealy Posturepedic almost always has a model at the top of the Consumer Reports list. 3) Add a thin layer of memory foam if it’s too firm. 4) Yes, pure memory foam is too hot. We have a “hybrid” innerspring Sealy Posturepedic w some foam and I find it comfortable but sometimes too hot in the middle of the night. 5) There is no relationship between price and comfort. 6. Most mattress salesmen are full of it. 7. I really liked the salesman at Macy’s in Terra Linda/San Rafael, he was knowledgeable, informative and realistic. 8. Consumer Reports has excellent mattress ratings to help you reduce the dizzying world of choices. Pay $35 or so and use their online algorithm.

You first have to decide about broad categories: FOAM? INNERSPRING? HYBRID? BLOW UP “SLEEP NUMBER” BEDS

Hope you all enjoyed this list and got some good tips.  Now back to writing about writing, and writers, and Montana, and life…  And if you’d like to be part of my Facebook posse, follow me here!

Now Booking 2017 Haven Writing Retreats in gorgeous Whitefish, Montana!

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The field of possibility...

The field of possibility…

 

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