THE FEARLESS YOGI.

During the course of my career as a therapist, I've found myself continually frustrated because I want more for my clients. I want them to experience a whole (mind, body, spirit) experience; achieving this is few and far between with traditional talk therapy. Talk therapy is an imperative part of the process, but it has inherent limitations. This is something I feel not only with my clients but in my own experiences. 

Yoga has been in my vocabulary for the duration of my life. My almost 100 year old grandfather practiced it every morning. My father taught me breathing techniques when I was a child. I've tried it sporadically over the years and knew a few colleagues who utilized it in their therapy practices, but I never did more than dip my foot in. I felt afraid for so many reasons. 

My age was one of them. I'm 38 and am a pretty well established therapist. I went through years of schooling and spent a lot of money to get to where I am today. I struggled with feeling too old and too invested to start something new. 

I'm not a yogi. In my mind I had to be a yogi to start yoga. Doesn't make sense, right? Well to my perfectionist brain it made perfect sense; you have to be the best at yoga to start yoga. 

I don't look like those girls on Instagram. You know which girls I'm talking about, the ones with the perfectly proportioned bodies doing those incredible poses (which you secretly attempt at home and then need your husband's assistance to dismantle yourself from). I never paid much attention to my body growing up, but now that I'm getting older and have given birth to two children, I'm more focused on the changes. I'm working on aging gracefully and fully accepting my flaws, but social media and the human tendency to compare makes it incredibly hard to do so. 

The most important part of my hesitation was that I wasn't clear on my intention. I've learned over the years that your intention always has to be clear or at the very least come from a pure place. When your ego has an intention you can guarantee it's going to steer you wrong. I wasn't sure if I was trying to prove something to myself, or if I truly believed in the power of yoga. I look back now and know that the origin of my intention wasn't ego based,  but the aforementioned fears were holding me back. 

It wasn't until I found my yoga tribe, this year, that I was able to find my fearlessness. I use the word fearlessness because that's what it really took for me to dive in. I saw so many young people around me not hesitating once about what they were pursuing, not using age as a limitation, not worrying about the way their bodies looked, not attempting to be the perfect Yogi. I wish someone would have given me the following suggestions when I first started my Yoga journey:

 1. Be fearless- don't let fear burn you... let it burn a fire in you. 

2. Be a racehorse- I was watching "The Defiant Ones" on HBO the other night and Jimmy Iovine said that racehorses are blind folded so they don't see what's happening around them, they just go. So just go!! Don't think about how you will look compared to your neighbor or what the person in front of you is doing. Just go! Live!

3. What's your end goal? -trick question! There is no end goal. Go for the experience and dwell in it,  breathe, and enjoy your Yoga journey, or whatever new endeavor your heart desires, every step of the way!

-Nayantara

AM I GOOD ENOUGH TO BE AN INSTAMOM?

I'm a newbie to the mommy bloggersphere. My intention in entering into this world was to share thought provoking information with other women, about an array of topics, particularly vulnerability.

We get sucked into the minutiae of everyday life, and our sense of depth is often the first thing to go. This loss lends itself to inter relational difficulties, on every level. Self reflection is imperative, but we often focus on what we see as other people's responsibilities for our own pain. That's what I'm in it for, the peddling of introspection, but I've quickly discovered a few pertinent things about this whole blogger dynamic along the way.

The first is that you can expect to get the least support from your own friends and family. Perfect strangers will be more comfortable praising you, and throwing a virtual high five your way, than many of your own peeps. I chalk this up to our difficulty with feeling joy for others' successes when we're struggling with a lack of personal fulfillment ourselves. It’s easier to dissociate from that self comparison when we don't have an intimate relationship with someone. Anonymity is safer for the ego. I'm learning/ telling myself not to take it personally. Fact is, the people who are the most supportive happen to be the ones who are doing it as well. They're in the same boat, and are riding the waves with you, propelled by a sense of purpose for their own ambitions.

My second revelation is that growing your social media following is a game. And, lamentably, it's a necessary one. Unless you want to retire your words to that personal journal you stow beneath your pillow each night, you'd better ante up. It's a big, big world, and it seems like half of Earth's inhabitants are fellow mommy bloggers. I struggle with how trite it feels to amass "followers," but if you believe your message worthy, this is the trade off.

Then there's the picture thing. Gawd, the picture thing. It seems like an imperative for reader connection. But, who in the hell are you people that inhabit snowy white farmhouses, replete with subway tile and claw foot tubs, in the middle of flowing green fields, groves of 100 year old oak trees, with a wrap around porchful of abysmally handsome children dressed in coordinated earth tones of linen? And, how are your legs so long?

How am I, Joe Schmo, to compete with that? Do I put the peonies in my baby's bath water before or after I put her in it, and when do I grab the camera, right before I put her Briar bonnet on? And then, after said bouquet infused bath, is that when I put the Cornish hen in the oven? Oh shit, I forgot to photograph my herb bouquet on the acacia cutting board...

Where are my kids anyway???

Truth is, I consider myself to be pretty on top of my biz. I've got a stellar capacity to multitask quickly. My house is clean and decorated, and I make Pinterest dinners from scratch on the regular. But, the idea of dressing my daughter up, forget the sons, they'd be in hysterics if I tried to part them from their "sports" clothes... anyway, the thought of dressing my two year old up in some sort of circa 1940's made over Etsy outfit, camera in one hand, willfully dragging her with the other, likely from her examination of a twig or a pile of dirt, then strategically placing her for the photograph, I don't even know where, on a stump in a nearby field I suppose, sounds like an actual all day affair, sure to end in a vat of tears from both of us. Don't get me wrong, I want her to wear that $60 mustard hued, organic hemp romper, I really, really do, she'd look like a god damn angel, but then she could never eat blueberries again or steal a handful of chocolate chips while I'm baking, and that's just too sad a state of affairs to even entertain for a moment.

Then there's my wardrobe. I love clothes. I'm a trend junkie. I get it, but the last time I attempted to wear bell sleeves, I got caught on a door knob no less than 62 times. I can't parent in shoes with heels and skinny straps or jeans that go up to my rib cage and a floppy hat, at least not in a way that I feel good about. I do wear makeup every day and try to be as "mom" chic as real life will allow for, and as far as I can tell, I've got a leg up some of the parents I see around, but I still look like a drifter compared to the creme de la creme of Instamoms.

I'm intimidated. I'm confused. And, I'm nervous that my parenting skills are going to straight up plummet while I'm in search of the perfect Insta worthy moments. Am I even going to experience being with my children, mindfully, if I'm constantly taking pictures?

And here's the most upsetting part of the whole thing. You don't want to see my real life. You don't want me to be like you. You want me to be better than you, prettier than you, more well dressed than you. If I seem like you, my words won't be as attractive. I'll remind you of the ways that you feel inadequate.

We're okay with hearing about Instamom's struggles from time to time (how endearing), but we don't want to see it. We want to keep them at arm's length, upon that carefully crafted, hand fired, artisanal ceramic pedestal. It's a form of escapism; another way to keep the aforementioned depth out of our own lives. Focus on them and how perfect they are, and maybe I can forget about the pit of problems that is my life, disconnect from my stained carpet and stretched out sweatpants. Disconnect from the dysfunctional relationships, from the pain.

Well, I'm not gonna dress my kids up. We're going to be unabashedly us, because I want you to own me as you would yourself. I want you to see that depth isn't scary and that perfection isn't real. I want you to think the hard thoughts with me, to liberate yourself from window shopping in somebody else's life.

It's going to be difficult for me, too. I'm nervous about being judged, but I can't go forth with integrity if I don't practice what I preach. Join me in a lil' self love and introspection. Let's buck the social (media) system together.

-Angi

TALKING ABOUT RACE- Honoring our Differences through Exposure and Education.

I’m sitting in a chemistry lab with 25 other students. I waver between compete fear upon the introduction of new information (nomenclature anyone??) and enraptured interest over the micro-infinity that makes me, me; carbon atoms that belonged to 20 other living organisms before they were ingested into my own existence.

It’s the little things that matter (chemistry joke). As cliche as that sounds, the hugeness of that phrase is not lost on me. I am, at the physical level, really little things. I am also an individual with unique desires, opinions and quirks, because of all the relatively small circumstances that accumulated to make up my history. I live in a great big world with huge ideas and problems and hopes, and all of that rests within a single pin-prick poked into the vast corners of space.

I travel an hour each Saturday morning to take advantage of my husband’s availability to stay home with the kids and slowly work towards attaining a bachelor's degree. My fellow students are mostly women. Many are tackling the requirements for the nursing program, others are working towards engineering. I am here on the presumption that I will someday be a chemistry teacher, but between you and me, I come here to figure out what the world is made of: that simple. Only my financial aid counselor doesn’t like that answer: so, chemistry teacher.

Upon arriving to class the first day, I notice immediately that I am in a multiracial setting. I am instantly excited. This shifts into me being mortified by my own excitement. I have to pause and search my heart. Why did race even make it on my radar? Do I have expectations that this experience will be different or special, and why? Don’t I believe that all people are the same? I I silently freak out for a minute and then find my breath. I am surely not the only one that could feel this way. Am I the only lame, white girl that feels this way?! My rural, “Hillbilly Elegy,” mountain-town foundations are shaken by the exposure to not “white” people? I get a flip-flop sensation in my stomach just acknowledging how this affects me. My tiny world is very incomplete. It’s uncomfortable to think about, and down right difficult to find a receiving ear to talk about it.

It would be easier to say, “Hm, I didn’t even notice how diverse my class was” because people are people and all that jazz- end of conversation. Now I don’t have to incorrectly assume that the articulate young woman with good posture sitting across from me is Asian, because she is actually Pacific Islander. And I don’t have to consider that the shy, soft spoken girl behind me looks Indian, even though she is Pakistani but that means little to me, because while trying not to think about race, I stopped giving two fucks about anything outside of the bubble that I live in, and I can’t point to Pakistan on a map, and why does it even matter since she is a second generation American and was born in California…? I am being facetious only to highlight that not knowing these things causes fear in general; it is a scary kind of vulnerability. I struggle with the humility of acknowledging that I know less than other’s about certain things. And race seems like a pretty important thing to know about, so yeah, I’m terrified of being the fool. But fuck it. Hiding behind the veil of color-blindness isn’t going to save me from this conversation.

I have inadequate exposure to people. I live in a white neighborhood, and share classes with predominantly white people in my little community college. I homeschool my kids with other families that are mostly white. I shop in a grocery store with familiar white faces at the checkout line. I can count on one hand where I might come across a different race in my daily existence, and that is a stretch. I know that this is an evil to the future of understanding my world. I read like a mo’fo, and although I can gain a perspective of what another ethnicity is like, I am struggling to stay afloat in a community that’s major tolerance is for ignorance. This town still proudly flies a rebel flag, and has three consecutive streets named Hang Tree, Black, and Spook. And that's just the outward bigotry. The quiet bigotry is what really frightens me.

I have an insecurity that I wear the ingrained racism of my backward-town like a patch on my sleeve. If I don't actively probe these feelings, there is a good chance that systematic racism will hide in the corners of my intellect. I want to be a part of a community that celebrates this woman sitting across from me. She just explained the naming of cations to two other students while I sat next to them quietly confused. She is black. How can I get a full view of this world that I am trying so hard to understand, if I don't see her?

I am down to take ownership of my cowardice and hold true to what I know; that if I want to figure out what the world is made of, I need to look into the eyes of other races. We are sharing more than carbon atoms, and I want to celebrate our similarities and differences.

I have made an effort not to shy away from matters of race over the last year. I wish I could say it is something I've always done, but I can only do better when I know better. Thank you Maya Angelou. I am by no means saving the world, but discussing issues that we have made such an effort to bury, can force our minds to grow, and eventually our hearts. Here are a couple of the ways I have strived to figure out what the world is made of, outside of my Chemistry class:

1. Go back in time. Teaching my children the history of immigration, indentured servitude, and slavery, has created an insatiable desire to know how our country was established. It's invaluable to go back this far before I am able to wrap my head around our current social dilemmas.

2. Read all the books! Or at least make an effort to read outside of your comfort zone. Here are some of the books I read this year: The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander. There Are No Children Here by Alex Kotlowitz. The Hate You Give by Angie Thomas. A Young People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn.

3. Relearn Words. The Google definition of “white supremacy” falls short. If we are only looking for racism to display itself beneath a white hood, we are missing the social, political, historical and institutional poisons that currently plague our country. There is a difference between discrimination, prejudice and racism. Don't let the media give you their interpretation. Use your words.

4. Engage: I had to get real uncomfortable with my book club. I chose a book that some refused to read, and it got ugly, but it also got real. And I felt inspired by the women who responded with open hearts and shared their own personal insecurities about racism.

I am still on a journey to undo an ignorance that I grew up with. I am grateful to know enough now, to speak to my children and teach them to recognize racial intolerance when they see and hear it. I continue to hear the concern from people in my immediate bubble, that I shouldn’t shame my kids for being white. I hear the fear in that statement. Equipping them with the knowledge to discern when racism is happening is an empowering gift. How they use that gift will be up to them.

-Emily

SELF CARE AS A PARENT- HOW CAN YOU GIVE OF YOURSELF WHEN YOU'RE RUNNING ON EMPTY?

My dear friend reminded me that, as mothers, we’re all just comparing ourselves to one another. It's how we gauge our own performances. Dependent upon how we use this, our parenting can improve, or our self assuredness can plummet. I recently shared my personal take away from this process, after experiencing some parental enlightenment, while witnessing the beloved Emily with her children. But, since then, an unexpected lesson also arose.

For two days, we did art, we had picnics, we baked, we played games, we crafted. I was in it, non stop. When the baby napped, I didn't check out. I instead spent that time giving the boys my complete attention. I was really, truly enjoying myself. It felt fulfilling, not forced or laborious. Then day three arrived. I woke up exhausted and empty, a carcass with nothing left to give, and a worse parent than I'd been before I resolved to improve. We don't do much TV, but Samsung babysat that day.

The school year resumed the following week. For the first time in five years, I had alone time, because my younger son started full day kindergarten. While Indigo napped, I received two hours of glorious, unadulterated me time. After the first day, I felt like a completely different person. Energy was coursing through my veins, my patience was limitless, I was glowing. Now, a week in, workouts and showering have happened every day (I won't express the significance of this, so as to not disgust readers). My legs are shaved. Above the knee. My hair smells pleasant and is brushed and styled. I'm reading and writing. I'm dressed in clothes that don't stretch. It’s a whole new fucking world over here.

I still needed Emily’s example to act as a barometer for my own parenting. It forced me to go all in and then realize the extent to which I'd neglected myself. The desire to give of yourself to your children is fruitless, if you're an empty vessel. The last several years have consisted of nonstop giving, through pregnancy, breastfeeding, cosleeping, caretaking, remodeling, moving, and working outside and inside of the home. God bless my husband, but he’s an empty vessel, too. We’ve been alone together, out of the house, less than five times in almost three years, and before that, only a few times per year. We both are aware of this flawed system but have struggled with how to create that personal time for ourselves and one another. If either of us leaves, it's at the expense of the other, and when you're running on fumes, it's almost impossible to be generous.

I hope for you that there is a support system in place to call upon, besides your husband. If you've got the extra money, put it to work for you, get your kids out of the house for a few hours per week. Use the childcare at your gym, trade with friends, get creative. This is the pot calling the kettle black, because I didn't make any of these things happen. “Do as I say, not as I do.” I absolutely should've tried harder.

If you have the desire to be more present with your children, but the energy isn't there, you've got to create it for yourself. I was fully aware that I wanted to engage more, and in years past, when my cup runneth over, I did. It's been a slow but steady depletion, subtle enough to go unnoticed. I felt lazy, but the truth is that I'm not.

A martyr and a mother can't exist simultaneously, without acting as a detriment to your parenting skills. Not only do you suffer, but your children receive the short end of the stick. Every area of your life stands to improve. It's an investment in yourself and your family, with pretty hefty returns. Now, when my daughter is awake, I'm 100 percent with her. When my sons come home from school, I'm there. When my husband talks to me, I listen. I'm me again.

*And, please, when you see a friend making time for herself, don't throw a “must be nice” her way. She's listening to her inner guidance and taking note of her own unique threshold. If that makes you feel a sense of judgment, then you too are lacking in the same department. Recognize what it's really about, and fix it.

-Angi

IF YOU'RE A WOMAN, YOU PROBABLY HAVE ADRENAL FATIGUE. HERE'S HOW TO FIX IT.

I'd just had my second child. Signing up for a half marathon seemed like a great way to get back in shape. I'd been a runner, pre-pregnancy, but never more than seven miles at a time, so the challenge was enticing.

My son was a voracious breast feeder. We were up together all night, every night. If he wasn't eating, he was suckling. My sleep was suffering, and my body was paying the price. I'd already spent the money on the entry fee, thinking that by the time training started, he'd be a better sleeper, and I'd be rested enough to get up early for runs. Not.The.Case. (that kid didn't sleep until he was three years old). I was getting two cumulative hours of sleep per night, at best. In hindsight, I look back and want to shake the hell out of myself for choosing to proceed. River was nine months old when I started getting up at 5am to run somewhere between seven and twelve miles, daily. I was pushing myself hard, keeping a fast pace, and never walking. Eye rolls totally acceptable.

By the time the race arrived, I'd actually gained weight. Unfortunately, it wasn't muscle, it was belly fat. Stress fat.

That was my first clue that something wasn't right. I continued to work out every day, pushing myself harder, thinking that would do the trick, and the weight kept coming. I was eating a paleo diet and working out regularly. WTF? How?

That's when the googling began. Adrenal Fatigue. I had almost every symptom.

If you're a mother in your 30's or 40's, there's a good chance that you're struggling with adrenal fatigue, or have at some point. Weight gain (belly fat), fatigue, hormone imbalance, dizziness, trouble concentrating, caffeine as a lifeline, cravings for salty and sweet foods, difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep, check, check, check. If you identified with at least a few of the symptoms on that list, this is for you, and there are things you can do about it.

If you're reading this, I hope you're already at a point in your life where you have enough self love to make sacrifices on your own behalf, enough self worth to value feeling vigorous and energetic. If that sleeve of Oreos is more attractive to you than how you feel as you go about your daily life, then you've got some tough questions to ask yourself. One of them being, "what is my life lacking, that food is one of the most fulfilling components of it?" Because, if you can't muster up a little appreciation for your body, and what it requires to keep you vibrantly healthy, sticking with a healing routine is going to be a helluva challenge.

Although I've struggled with a fear of vulnerability, I've never lacked confidence in my ability, and perseverance has always been my strong suit. Changing my diet for healing is a huge nuisance (I'm not a family of one!), but totally worth baring. I place extreme value on my body. Without our vessels, we're done.

Adrenal fatigue had me so exhausted that I would be fighting sleep by lunch time everyday, yet I'd be awake from 1am to 3pm every night. I powered through on workdays, but on my days off, I could barely keep my eyes open. I was dizzy every time I stood up. I'd gained 10 pounds. My thinking was fuzzy, and my memory was nonexistent. How was I supposed to be a parent, or for that matter a person, in this state?

My traditional doctor proved to be useless. My blood tests came back that I was indeed still alive, which I'm convinced, is the only thing they are concerned about. Out of desperation, I sought out a Naturopath. If this isn't something you've done yet, I can't recommend it enough. Naturopaths are licensed physicians who approach medicine holistically, doing more of an investigation than an examination. Your intake questionnaire is several pages long, taking into account all areas of your life. Vibrant health is the name of their game. The markers on their blood tests are indicative of this. Being "in range" isn't a testament of health. They have their own set of acceptable ranges.

The following is taken from Dr. Axe in his web article 3 Steps to Heal Adrenal Fatigue:

    Your adrenal glands are two thumb-sized organs that sit above your kidneys and are part of the endocrine system. Also known as the suprarenal glands, they’re involved in producing over 50 hormones that drive almost every bodily function, many of which are essential for life.

       Adrenal glands play a huge role in stress response. Your brain registers a threat — whether it’s emotional, mental or physical. The adrenal cortex then releases corticosteroids to dampen processes like digestion, immune system response and other functions not necessary for immediate survival.

       Adrenal fatigue is a condition where your body and adrenal glands can’t keep up with the tremendous amount of daily stress many people experience. Sometimes misunderstood as an autoimmune disorder, adrenal fatigue can mimic some precursors to other common illnesses and disease.

     Wellness doctors and practitioners believe that an episode of acute stress or prolonged, chronic stress can cause adrenal glands to become overloaded and ineffective. They believe that adrenal fatigue can be caused by:

* Stressful experiences like death of loved one, divorce or surgery
* Exposure to environmental toxins and pollution
* Prolonged stress due to financial hardship, bad relationships or work environment, and other conditions that entail feelings of helplessness
* Negative thinking and emotional trauma
* Lack of sleep
* Poor diet and lack of exercise

I'd like to add overexercise to that list. If your life is already stressful, for whatever reason (likely, children), then the last thing you need to be doing is throwing stress inducing exercise into the loop. Makes sense, right?  Distance running, crossfit, boot camp. Nah. If you’re 25 and childless, carry on, but for the rest of us, think twice. Obviously, if you're doing these activities and feeling amazing, you don't have adrenal fatigue. You're dismissed. Extremely low carb diets, great for initial weight loss, not so great long term if you are struggling with adrenal fatigue. Not everyone's bodies thrive on a paleo diet, especially women's. For some of us, it's just another source of biological stress. Carbs are energy, sorta important as a life force.

There are different levels of adrenal fatigue. If you're in the beginning stages, healing isn't as difficult, duh. But, if you've been neglecting yourself for quite some time, the recovery process may be long. It's important to know that certain medications and illnesses can lend themselves to adrenal insufficiency. This is worth investigating if you have an autoimmune disease or take any daily meds.

A few of the things that helped me heal were:

- Reduced exercise; a combo of yoga, weights, mat work, and HIIT a few times per week, for no more than 25 minutes at a time. No more distance running or working out on days my sleep suffered.

-Per the above, waking up early to work out, no mas. Sleep is the priority, always. Cortisol is highest first thing in the morning, that's what wakes us up. Working out first thing is adding fuel to the already stoked fire.

-Go light on the caffeine and alcohol. If you can, avoid them completely. They exacerbate cortisol and inflammation issues, respectively.

- I eat healthy carbs, think sweet potatoes and quinoa. We don't require much, but a good rule of thumb for healing, according to "The Adrenal Reset Diet" by Dr. Alan Christianson, NMD (link below), is one golf ball size serving at breakfast, two at lunch, and three at dinner. Protein AND carbs at dinner are imperative for decent sleep. They give the body sustained energy, so we don't wake during the night. Finding the right balance of carbs is important. Too many carbs equals too much sugar, which in turn creates more stress via insulin responses.

- I had small snacks between meals, like an apple with a handful of almonds, to keep my blood sugar stable, because you guessed it, that means less biological stress.

- I did my best to not get sucked into stressful situations. Our responses to the things we experience are within our control. Deep breathing for a few minutes, sporadically throughout the day, helps keep us more even keeled. Meditation is another amazing tool. Headspace is a fantastic app for newbies and experienced meditators alike.

- I cut gluten, dairy, processed food, and processed sugar. I upped my veggies and greens and kept my fruit to less than two pieces per day. I know, restricting your diet is tough, it's inconvenient. No one else is on board. You just have to do it for yourself. I've been eating a different dinner from my family, several times per week, for years now. You get used to it. Your threshold changes, and over time, so does theirs! I think it's important to start incrementally on this front, or your success is going to be hindered. Take dairy out first, then processed sugar, then gluten, or whichever order feels the least daunting to you.

- I went on an elimination diet to identify hidden food intolerances that were causing further biological stress. I learned SO much about my body from this. I used a book called "The Metabolism Plan", by Lyn Genet Recitas. You can find the link to it below.

-I sought out a Naturopath and had several blood tests run: The complete thyroid panel, TSH, T3, T4, and Free T3. You need all of them for a clear picture. Hypothyroidism can be overlooked if the comprehensive panel isn't run. For further information on hypothyroidism, which goes hand in hand with adrenal fatigue, read here: www.drlam.com/blog/adrenal-fatigue-and-low-thyroid-gland-function/5298/You can have cortisol tested, but it's not always accurate.

- My iron was low, which wasn't related to adrenal fatigue, but exacerbated my dizziness, lack of sleep, and exhaustion. Do not take iron unless you've been tested and know that you are anemic. Iron overload can be toxic. I have taken several different iron supplements over the years. Iron Extra by Vitanica is by far my favorite (link below), no tummy issues, no constipation, and it contains all the other necessary vitamins to help the iron absorb properly. It also has real folate, instead of folic acid, which should always be avoided.

- I added a supplement with adaptogens that are known to help with exhaustion and stress. I've linked the specific brand I used at the bottom of the post. For more information on adaptogens, check out: https://avivaromm.com/adaptogens-beating-stress/ 

- I put myself to sleep early. 9:00pm bedtime.

- I took quality vitamin D3, B12, kelp for thyroid support, and magnesium (not citrate) for improved nervous system response, which lends itself to better sleep and stress tolerance.

Please remember that I'm only speaking from my own experiences. I'm not a doctor. I have no medical training. I'm just a voracious reader and self experimenter. Seek help from a physician when implementing a healing protocol.

-Angi

CHECK OUT THE BOOKS AND SUPPLEMENTS THAT HELPED ME HEAL BELOW: