For starters I got up late, and then other “stuff” happened and instead of my regular routine, I was thrust into a hodge-podge of activity. Typically my day would go like this:

• Wake up and go pee
• Do neti pot
• Go to gym
• Oil pull teeth
• Dry brush skin
• Shower, etc…

Completing these activities in order is my “anchor” of sorts and contributes to a feeling that all is right in my world. When I am done with my morning routine I have a sense that I can do/accomplish/be whatever I have intended for that day. I need structure and some level of sameness in my morning schedule. When that doesn’t happen I get all messed up and I know it. Yesterday’s out of control start to the day—and subsequent skipped gym workout—became an excuse to overeat and make bad food choices the rest of the day. (Isn’t it weird how we get into that “well, I’m already bad, might as well be real bad” mindset?)

For me, yesterday—thankfully—was an isolated incident. Usually I am on track with my routine and I feel as though meeting my schedule is effortless. But I met with a client today who doesn’t have any sort of a daily practice at all. Her lifestyle and circumstances don’t require her to be anywhere in particular on a regular basis, and she’s experiencing less-than-optimal outcomes as a result. It made me value and appreciate (and recommit to) my well-worn groove even more.

If you’re having a hard time achieving goals, my best advice is to create a schedule that works for you and stick to it, even if you have to invent your obligations.

• I AM ENERGIZED not only gives you an immediate boost (most people feel it within 20 minutes), it also supplies key energy-related nutrients. This balanced formulation helps support daily energy.

• We all know what a difference a good night’s sleep can make. Combining melatonin, calming herbs, and several sleep-supportive amino acids, our proprietary I AM SLEEPY blend helps support falling asleep and staying asleep.

• Research shows that how often we get sick, and even how long we stay sick, are dramatically affected by our intake of nutrients and essential minerals. I AM HEALTHY helps support normal immune function.

• Unhappiness, sadness, and stress are directly related to your body’s internal chemistry. I AM HAPPY was created to help you reach a calm, positive state of mind with our exclusive Happy Blend. Plus, it’s clinically proven to work.

What really grabbed my attention was the fact that one of the “flavors” had already sold out completely and another had only three left of the original 12 contained in the display. The sellout was “I am Energized.” The second most popular was “Happy,” with three remaining bottles. The other two—”Sleepy” and “Healthy” were distant runners-up, with eight and nine left on the counter respectively.

The irony of the popularity of the different formulas wasn’t lost on me. If sales are an indicator, most people wanted more energy. Next they sought happiness. Then they craved more sleep. Finally, they desired improved health.

Shouldn’t that list be inverted? If we had better health—perhaps from more rest and sleep—wouldn’t we be happier and have more energy?  I AM just askin’!

Back in January—when the resolve for self-improvement was strong and the options seemed alluring—I had signed up for a painting class. The course was simply a one-and-done, three hour studio event, and the teacher my client and friend, Michele Beschen. Still, I woke to a sense of dread and regret. My feelings came from two places: first, I had lived with a very successful graphic designer for close to 15 years. I know talent and creativity and I don’t have much of either, at least not for things like painting. My second—perhaps bigger—reason is that I enjoy Getting Things Done. I have long To Do lists for my weekends, and I like to run errands, make food for the week ahead, and get caught up on emails and stuff for my business. I’ve always thought of painting as a great outlet…for people with extra time on their hands.

But I had made a promise to myself. I would be missed if I bailed. I had paid my tuition and done the pre-class assignment. I was committed.

The studio was a half hour drive from my home and I brought along an audio book for the car ride. I reasoned that at least I would get an hour’s worth of “reading” done. Arriving exactly on time, I found a room full of women of varying ages. The mood was one of levity and excitement. I was beginning to soften.

We started by learning to build a canvas. Now, I have hammers and nails and even a staple gun at home, but they are merely remnants left behind by past lovers or hired handymen. I was completely out of my element. And in the moment of asking Michele—for the third time—to help me make a tight corner on the canvas, I suddenly re-understood that we all are simultaneously teacher and student, mentor and protégé. I paused and thought about the clients I work with every day. I don’t judge their inexperience any more than Michele judged my slightly irregular canvas shape, but still a part of me wanted to be on to the next level. I wished for my results to be ahead of where they could be, given my lack of experience. And in that anxiousness to “get it,” I realized that I was cheating myself out of the moment. I was trying to skip out of “now,” and in that very process I was missing the point of being there at all.

Next came the painting part. As part of the homework assignment, I brought along visual inspiration: clipped pages from art books, scraps of fabric, and an old greeting card. But in the end I didn’t use any of that stuff. By this time the class was half over and I had decided simply to—as Michele calls it—“move some paint around.” I made blobs and splats, used a few tools and played with lots of brushes and rags. I stepped back to see my work from a different angle and dried some of the layers with a hairdryer to be able to work more quickly. I stopped to watch the other women work on their creations. I truly got engaged in the process. And after I got home I was still caught up in the mood and I added some “bling” to my creation—bits of shiny acrylic and parts from old costume jewelry.

I have to admit it was a lot of fun. And in the process I got something I didn’t expect. I re-learned what it’s like to be a beginner. To have everything seem new, and to feel awkward and out of my element. I was reminded that “now” is the Real Deal and that there will still be errands to do tomorrow too. And I have a visual reminder of my lessons. Thank you, Michele. You’re a fabulous teacher and a great inspiration.

I had recently left a relationship of nearly a decade and a half because of (his) infidelity. I was grieving, hurt and angry. I decided to get my navel pierced, in what I thought at the time was a sort of act of defiance. Maybe I was imagining that I could somehow rewind the tape and go back to being 28 years old—before I got involved with the cad—and, you know, recapture my lost self or something. It would turn out that I would have my belly pierced not just once, but three times in less than 12 months. I guess I really wanted that lost self. Or maybe I was just being stubborn. But I’m getting sidetracked….

Shortly after the initial piercing, I was hula-hooping on my front lawn (yeah, I guess I really was after that carefree youth feeling, huh?) and I must have over-gyrated or something because later in the day I looked down and not only was the belly ring gone, but the hole where it would have entered my navel had closed up. Undeterred by the not-so-pleasant memories of the first procedure, I went back and got a new piercing and a different belly ring at the tattoo/piercing place.

The loss of the second ring involves a story that likewise concerns an attempt at recapturing youthful vigor, but I will omit the details here. I will only say I have no regrets and I still smile when I remember waking up to find the belly ring on the floor in my bedroom. But alas, too many hours had passed and the hole had once again closed: I could not re-insert the jewelry.

After the second incident I decided I was going to get pierced one final time. I was determined that I’d get the damn ring sautered into my stomach if I had to. Luckily, that was not necessary because shortly after the third procedure (all were done by “Nick” the piercer/artist, by the way) my appendix ruptured, and required emergency removal. As you probably know, jewelry cannot be worn into surgery. By this point, I was seasoned enough to realize that the hole would again close up in a very short timeframe. I didn’t think I could stomach (pun intended) another trip to see Nick the Piercer, so I had the hospital staff insert a plastic “placeholder” into the hole. Five days later, when I got out of the hospital, I went to the best custom jewelry designer in Iowa. I commissioned her to make a beautiful imperial topaz and diamond navel ring to replace the costume jewelry ones I had such ill luck with. It cost me a handsome sum, but it was absolutely stunning. Fortunately, I never had to take Nick up on his offer of “the fourth piercing is half price.” And although my acupuncturist wasn’t happy about it—she said piercings mess with chi and energy flow—the beautiful ring stayed put and I never had another issue with it.

Fast forward. I’ve had the belly ring for 12 years: almost as long as I was with the ungentlemanly man who provided the motivation for the piercing. It’s so much a part of me I don’t think about it. Most people wouldn’t know it was there, since I don’t wear those sorts of clothes. The thought of taking it out has passed through my mind now and then, but not often and not seriously. Not until today.

I was at yoga this morning. There was a meditation class afterward that I had planned to stay for. But right in the middle of shavasana—the rest period at the end of yoga—I had the unexplainable and overwhelming compulsion to get the ring removed: Immediately. I walked to my car and looked up the jeweler’s number. Her studio was still there, at the same address. I called and asked if I could come by and have her remove it. She seemed surprised, but she said yes.

I soon realized the reason for her surprise: The removal process was as simple the third time as it had been the previous two times. The ring was the barbell style and the jeweler merely needed to unscrew the top piece. It had been so well made and had become so much a part of me I assumed it would need to be cut in order to remove it. She asked if I was sure about taking it out, and I nodded without hesitation. She removed the ring.

And just like that, it’s gone.

It’s funny how much attachment we put into things, and the symbolism we invent. For me the belly ring started out representing a reclamation of something I felt had been taken from me. Slowly, without me even realizing it, it turned into just a piece of jewelry. Eventually it must have evolved into some sort of an irritant, because by the end of yoga all I could think of was getting it removed. And now as I write this I feel lighter in some unexplainable way. Like maybe something got reconciled or maybe I outgrew a notion or…well, I’m not sure I’ll ever know, so perhaps it’s just simply a topic for a blog. In any case, next week I am going to make an appointment with my acupuncturist. I really like the idea of my energy flowing…unobstructed.

A few days after the physical itself, the lab tech called to tell me the results. Cholesterol, triglycerides, all the usual markers were good, some even great. But then came the kicker: “we’re concerned about your blood sugar,” the tech said. “Your fasting blood glucose came back at 133.”

Silence.

I was stunned. I know that by the usual markers, 70-100 is normal, over 100 is pre-diabetic and anything over 125 is considered diabetic. I am a health coach. I subscribe to a mostly raw vegan diet. My weight is normal. How the hell could my blood sugar be high enough to place me in the diabetic zone?

“We’d like you to come in for an A1c test,” the tech continued. An A1c? I could barely focus. “OK,” I said, let’s get it scheduled.”

Because of holidays and office hours, it would be a couple of weeks before I was able get in to have blood drawn. An A1c is a simple test and the results are available immediately, but anyone who has ever gotten “irregular” lab results back knows that a couple of weeks is a painfully long time to wait. In your head you run all manner of scenarios, from worst-case to imagining the doc telling you “there was a mix-up at the lab and we gave you someone else’s results.”

Finally, the requisite time had passed and I arrived for my 2nd blood draw. It felt like an eternity while I waited for Dr. Kim to come back into the room. When she did, she was expressionless. “Well?” I asked. “You’re at 5.1,” she said.

5.1. “That’s normal,” I said. “Correct,” she replied.

Normal. What a beautiful word.

I’ll never really know what happened with the test done during my routine physical, and at this point I don’t really much care. But living with the uncertainty of those few in-between weeks had a profound effect on me. I already was—by most standards—health-conscious. But after getting the initial test results, I really scrutinized my daily practices. Did I really need to sweeten my tea with honey? Am I honest with myself about how much wine I drink in a week? Are my gym workouts still effective? Good questions to ask, but had I not had the “scare,” I might not have taken such a complete self-inventory. And my inventory did reveal to me a few areas where I decided I could make some improvements. Nothing huge, really, but a few adjustments that I think will payoff if I can be consistent over time.