Some Loving Inspiration
One of the reasons why I love yoga so much (and most recently hot pilates) is that I can go into a room and think about nothing except moving my body and my breath for an entire hour. It’s one of the most freeing hours of my day. Partially because I’m so grounded that there’s no room for my inner bully. You know, that little negative voice – that we all have – that pops out every now and then? And sometimes way more than we’d ever care to admit ...
I used to do this thing. I’ve seen many friends do it too. And in all truth, I still can be guilty of it. So I have to catch myself and regroup. What is this thing that I’m so curiously alluding to? It’s asking everyone’s opinion and forgetting yours. Here’s an example: Once, before an evening out, I showed my family and husband two possible outfits. Out of the two outfits, outfit number two was the for-sure winner. But, I personally liked outfit number one best. Yet, I still decided ...
My husband and I were on the couch the other night watching This is Us. During one of the scenes with all the school-aged kids, “the big three,” my husband looked at me and said, “Is that what you were like with your friends as a kid?” He said it in this cute, playful tone. I paused, smiled, and casually said, “No, I didn’t really have any school friends until I was in the sixth grade.” I didn’t realize how sad that sounded until it came out of my mouth ...
A few years ago, I participated in a very small yoga teacher training. On day one, we had to introduce ourselves and “share our story.” My introduction went something like this, “Hi, I’m Corinne. I’m a Dietitian and coach, and I just moved here after a breakup. I was dumped.” Translation? I made my story “I’m the girl who got dumped.” This sad story got me nowhere except pity and more sadness. And the recommendation to go home and “eat a bunch of ice cream.” Womp, womp… It was obvious. ...
I overheard the conversation from the hall. No one knew I was there. Well, except me. I could hear her telling my mom that my sister and I were chunky. And “getting rather large” and it’d be best if we lost some weight, especially “Corinne.” I was 11-years-old. At 11, I hadn’t heard of this concept of ‘weight.’ Let alone, someone “getting rather large.” Sure, I was teased a lot by other little kids. Who would make jokes about my frizzy hair or bad acne. I had horrible, horrible acne. ...
My husband’s legs are smaller than mine. I remember when I first realized this during our dating days. I walked right up next to him, put my thigh next to his thigh and exclaimed, “My legs are bigger than yours!” My ego wanted him to say, “No, they’re not.” Even though I knew they were. But instead, he said, “Yea, so?” I stared at him a few seconds not knowing what to say. I felt hurt and frustrated at the same time. But, I knew these feelings weren’t logical. ...
I used to have this pair of jeans. They were tiny and not representative of my body’s true frame, like at all. But I clung onto them. For the simple fact that they were small, I used to be able to fit into them and to be totally honest because I hoped to maybe be able to wear them again… But then, one random day, I realized I was never going to wear them again. And, it was more than OK. Because the crazy things I did to fit into ...
Do you ever feel lonely? I do. Especially being someone who works from home. You see – the thing is – I thought it was only me… But the more I started talking about loneliness with girlfriends (or even random people at local coffee shops, on my walks, or at yoga), I soon discovered I wasn’t alone. And when I saw that 72% of adults admitted to feeling lonely … I thought OMG – I’m even more NOT alone in these random creeping feelings of loneliness. Which really got me ...
Here’s a not-so-secret secret: OCD runs in my family. And for me – as weird as it sounds – my childhood obsession with whether or not my friends liked me was one sure-fire way to spot it. In middle school, I’d sit cross-legged, alone in my room, and mentally run through my friends, like I was going down a list. For each friend, I’d ask myself, “Are they mad at me? Do they like me?” Repeat, repeat, repeat. Typically, I’d do about three or four exhausting rounds of this… Today, ...
It was 2015 and here I was. On the verge of turning 30. And I was moving back home with my parents in light of my newly single status. This was not how I envisioned entering my third decade of life. In fact, it was the exact opposite. I was supposed to feel like my life was coming together, not unraveling… Well, the unraveling started to shift one slightly depressive evening, after I came home from my first date, since entering singledom. He was a nice guy who I “met” ...
