Thirty Things For Thirty
Its Leo season. And tomorrow, I turn Thirty. Its funny. I cried when I turned 19, because I was so scared over getting old. But with every birthday since then, it gets a little easier.
A couple years ago, I couldn’t even imagine being 30. I thought I was destined for a breakdown. And yet here I am, 1 day away, and honestly, I am feeling okay. I wouldn’t say I’m ecstatic. The thought of leaving my 20’s behind makes me a little sad.
So much growth happens in your twenties, with so many experiences of adulting being thrown your way, its the time of figuring out who we are and want we want and how to thrive away from the identity we found in the realm of high school and our family homes. It feels like by the end of our twenties, the time to experiment and explore who we are has come to an end.
By thirty we are just living in that existence we have made for ourselves. At least thats what I used to think.
At the beginning of my twenties, it felt like it would last forever.
Here I am, 29 and 364 days, and I promise you I still have so much more growth and exploring left to do. And I am perfectly okay with that. I am in such a different place right now than I could ever have imagined I would be even 2 years ago. I didn’t even know this was the life I wanted, filled with the beautiful humans and animals that have become so important to me, that I didnt even know existed until recently.
29 has been a year of so much beautiful change and growth for me. I went from being a single girl in the city, trotting down king west in the wee hours of the morning with an entourage of fellow 20’s era females. I was living in a 2 bedroom condo, making close friends of neighbours and roommates, and biking all over the city to attend pole classes, meet up on patios, and get myself to work.
It kind of felt like I was making up for lost time, since there was a good chunk of 5 years that was stolen from me by anorexia, where I was not able to go out and make new connections or live on my own, or take part in spontaneous adventures. I chose to wrap myself up in a relationship and anorexia, rather than to nurture other friendships in my life, or explore opportunities to make new ones.
So when I was 28 and more free than I had been ever before, I was able to do everything I had missed.
And in the process, I found myself staring my future in the eye, in the rain and neon lights of a music festival on Canada Day. (Thank you, electric island )
EI magic.
One year later, I am gone from my rented condo, and city girl life. I am in a serious and committed relationship with someone who makes me feel like I can be anything I want to be, and cares for me in a way that does not undercut my indepeendence. Now, we have just bought our first home together. We live in Barrie, which is so different than the buzz and business of Toronto, but a thriving and beautiful place that I am growing to love more and more each day.
Closing day!
When I found V —or we found each other—I was also adopted into his circle of friends which are more like family. We live in our house with 2 of them, and 2 pretty kitties, and the four (plus 2) of us function like a little family unit, and I feel like I am finally finding that sense of closeness and connection that I never managed to find for so many years in my early twenties.
Adventures with my adopted Barrie Family (and co-owners!)
I never predicted this for me. I never tried to make it happen. I had no plan to be a home owner, or in a serious committed relationship, or to be moved out of the city. But it happened, so organically and spontaneously, simply by being curious and going with my intuition and saying yes when it felt right, even if it scared me.
And I am so freaking happy that it did.
feeling good at my birthday dinner at B’Spoke bar in Barrie.
By the time you are reading this, I will officially be 30. All the pain and passion and growth of my 20’s will be behind me. But I am so ready for this decade to be full of NEW growth, and love and adventure as I navigate this new era of my life. I may officially be an adult, now in my third decade, but I am starting to realize learning and growth and exploration are things that don’t end no matter how old you get.
Never too old to marvel at a double rainbow after the rain
To make the most of my 30th year, and to keep my momentum going to continue to seek out growth and adventure, I made myself a little list.
Thirty things, of varying types and intensities that I want to experience and check off in this year of being Thirty. Some I hope to accomplish over these next few weeks of birthday celebrations, and the rest, to be pursued over time (for example, breaking 30 kilometres of hiking into more reasonable chunks).
a draft in my bullet journal of this list.
Heres to being thirty (not too) flirty, and thriving.
Which of these things are you putting on your list?
Love and light,
-Jae xoxo
Never too old to celebrate a birthday mini putting with goats
Thirty Things for Thirty
Hike 30 kilometres
Go pet camping OR hiking with the cat and the dog
Go on a wine tasting tour by bicycle
Go on a camping trip
Do a pole photo shoot
Make and perform a pole routine
Go horseback riding
Do a vaulting lesson
Get a facial and start a skin care routine
Do a contortion class
Go to a music festival
Go to a concert
Ride a bull at the Ranch
Spend a day at a spa
Eat at a Michelin-rated restaurant
Spend a few days in Montreal
Enjoy a bougie and boozey brunch
Go on a shopping spree
Do a bar or pub crawl
Go to Pursuit OCR
Go to a rooftop bar
Have a beach day
Take dance lessons
Have a paint night
Marie Kondo my room/wardrobe
Host or invite my parents to dinner
Get an astrological reading
Do a spontaneous adventure roadtrip
Have a cottage weekend with friends
Do some kind of walk/run/bike ride for charity
2022: A Year of Gains
2022 was a year I gained a lot. And I don’t just mean weight gains over the holidays. I am talking about the kind of mental, emotional, and yes, physical gains, that come when you open yourself to the opportunities that surround you.
This past year I have been gifted a lot of amazing experiences. I travelled (several times) to weddings, as well as a trip to Vegas.
I competed in my first pole competition for PSO Canada East.
I adopted a kitten who has become a well know adventure cat.
I got a permanent teaching position, raising me above the uncertainty of daily and long term occassional work, and into a new salary range.
I also made a new circle of friends within my Toronto neighbourhood, including neighbours in my building to share laughs and blunts and even keys with whenever we need a pet fed or walked.
And perhaps most noteably, I found a partner who is essentially the male version of myself, and who I love more than everything I love put together.
Truly, Ive had a lot of gains this year, as you can see. But it doesnt stop there. With all thuis happiness that has come my way, I also gained weight. I’m not going into numbers here, and I am not trying to make it seem as if I gained so much that I would be unrecognizeable on the street, but I will say certain clothes that fit me other Christmases would be a squeeze this year.
Sometimes I see a picture of myself or a video and feel a twinge of guilt that I’ve let my body go— even minimally. But the truth is, I really don’t think I could have had all the experiences and other life gains this year if I hadn’t.
This year, I truly commited myself to prioritizing connections and making memories over controlling my body. I made the choice to go out for drinks or to concerts and skip a workout. I made the choice to join in a group thai food order, or partake in a feast of indian food. I made the choice to ease up on my strict vegan tendencies and eat the muffin made with eggs, or try a bite of a a cheese stuffed ravioli.
I’m not saying that any of these things alone are the cause of a jump on a scale. I know friends and family members who enjoy all of the above on a regular basis, and their bodies stay pretty much the same. And I know continuing to be more relaxed around food, and joining in and sharing these meals and treats with others, I will not continue to gain weight for ever. Actually, I don’t think I’’ve really gained anything since I started writing this post a few weeks ago.
But even if I did, I wouldn’t regret it. The small, tight body that I had , particularly during my days of extreme restriction was a physical embodiment of my tight and rigid thinking. My life was about as full and voluptuous as my figure. In other words, the exact opposite. My days were calculated, measured, controlled.
And anything that threatened to disrupt that (such as a birthday dinner or night out) caused me anxiety and fear, instead of the excitement and revelry it should have.
Last January, I wrote a 2022 Manifesto for how I wanted to live my life. One of the things I wrote was “Memories over Calories.”
I’m so happy to say that I committed to that vision. And while it was not always easy or perfectly executed, I ended 2022 with more memories and moments of love and beauty and spontaneity than I could have imagined.
I’m hoping to gain even more in 2023. Here’s to making all the memories, joining in, and always prioritixing people and connection over numbers.
What are you hoping to gain this year?
Happy 2023,
-Jae
The Fear of Being “Ordinary” (and why being average is perfectly enough)
“Shoot for the moon. For even if you fail, you will still land among the stars.”
This was the poster that greeted me on my first day in my Grade 4 classroom. It was hung by my kind and enthusiastic teacher, who wanted nothing more than to inspire and motivate her students to live up to their potential; the message essentially being to do better, we must aim for nothing less than the best.
As innocent this message may seem, it stems from a “never enough” mentality that is destructively pervasive in our culture. A mentality that being ordinary is not enough, and that in order to be “good” we must be special.
We must do whatever it takes to be extraordinary.
Throughout our lives, many of us have fallen victim to this mentality of self-deciprecation. We learn to view '“average,” “normal,” and “ordinary” as lacking. We fear that falling into the category of “average” is settling for a lesser identity, or accepting a loss of power.
When we hear the word “ordinary,” it is loaded with negative connotations of monotony, or boredom, or the mundane. When at is essence, ordinary is a very neutral term— and who is to say, not a positive one?
For a long time, I considered being “ordinary” a failure to live up to my potential.
And its a shame (and quite f***ed up really) to walk around carrying this fear of ordinary. Ordinary is synonymous with average. And average quite literally means “the norm”-- the category most people and endeavours fall into (duh).
By rebuking and fighting anything that falls in this category of average- whether it be our average job, average body, average grade, or average skill or ability at a sport or art or hobby- you are ultimately leaving yourself with very little chance to be happy.
This pursuit of the extraordinary is NOT something for which we can really blame ourselves. It is something that is pervasive in our society, birthed in the same seeds that planted the American Dream, and the unquenchable thirst for “more” and “better” that consumes and drives our modern lives.
Its these seeds planted in you with the best intentions and love when you were little, with parents and loving adults promising you that “you can be whatever you want to be,” and that “no dream is too big.”
You take one dance class and they assure you that you were on your way to become a prima ballerina. You take a liking to your family dog and they start setting aside a fund for vet school. You sing and you dance and you are told you can grow up to be a famous performer, that all you have to do is “try,” and to “believe in yourself.”
Unfortunately, the biggest dreams often require much more than that.
I grew up with these messages. And I never questioned it, or even thought it strange. Still today, I will find myself making the same grandiose statements to the kids that I teach: “Oh wow, percy, look at that beautiful drawing! You are going to have a painting in a gallery one day!” and Aliza, you can be an olympic gymnast!”
Of course, encouraging kids to try hard and “dream big” is important to build their sense of worth and self-confidence. But what about when they are 18, and not admitted to art school? Or 25 and they only job they can get is some entry level accounting work, far from the “pursue your passion” speech they had been spoon-fed ever since they were being spoon-fed?
And who knows, maybe Aliza will be an olympic gymnast, and Percy a famous artist. But chances are, they will not. But that does NOT mean they will not find happy, meaningful, and rewarding lives.
The truth is, the majority of people in our society are working average jobs, making average wages, in so called “ordinary” fields or professions. I am sure Karen did NOT dream of growing up to be a retail manager for a tile company. And while these kinds of jobs are likely NOT anyone’s true passion or life calling, they are doing work integral to the functioning of our society.
And who is to say that people that are working these mediocre or average jobs, are living lives that are any less fulfilling or meaningful or joyful, than someone working in a so-called “noble” profession.
For myself, this fixation on the extraordinary kept me in a long season of tire spinning— wanting to do everything, but nothing seemed enough. I was rooted to the spot, unable to take a step in any direction afraid of stumbling into a career that was anything less than my “calling.”
I did not want to settle for anything less than the glamorous dreams I had birthed unto me as a kid. Respectively, I dreamed I would grow up to become a vet, a gymnast, an olympic snowboarder, a best-selling author, a broadway star, a professional horseback rider/trainer. and a plant-based chef/food blogger.
Notice what each of these dreams have in common: the element of fame, and of top-tierdom, of being the best.
It wasn’t even so much as choosing which of these paths to purse that caused me so much angst, but the very true possibility that whatever I did, that I would not be able to do well enough to achieve the level of fame or recognition that I so valued. I wanted my name to be known, whatever I did. I wanted to turn heads when I walked into a room. I wanted to be anything but ordinary. Because to be ordinary, to have an average, unknown existence, felt worse than failure.
This has been a big obstacle for me in recovery too. Contrary to widespread perceptions of eating disorders, I never saw myself as fat, or even overweight. I never considered myself to be ugly. Even when I was in the depths of ED, avoiding mirrors and hiding from my appearance, I still innately understood that on the spectrum of ugly to beautiful, or fat to thin, that in both categories I was at least “average.”
But that didn’t stop me from feeling loathing towards my body. I did not want to be average. I wanted to be thin, uniquely so. I wanted bones. And then I wanted to be the fittest. I wanted washboard abs and veiny arms, and rock hard limbs. I wanted to turn heads. And in that pursuit of extraordinary, I spent years iron-fisting my body to be my masterpiece.
If I were to get all psychological about it now, I could say that all the fear and uncertainty and pressure I was feeling about what I would do with my life, I channeled into my feelings about my body.
As cliche as it is true, the lack of control and powerless I felt over the greater meaning of my existence, was compensated by exerting control where I could— controlling my food, and my body. But this is tangential, so I will leave this for another post.
In essence, an “average body” was something I dreaded and feared. Even being told that I was approaching a “normal” weight, I felt like a failure.
I felt like I was sliding down the rungs of a ladder I had given years of my life and all of my strength to climb. I was letting myself go, and slipping back into the throes of mediocrity.
I felt silly, and narcissistic, admitting to this realization, but it was truly how it felt. Allowing myself to settle at an “average” weight really did feel like I was giving up.
This is not unique thinking. I am NOT the one lone human who feels dissatisfied with a perfectly good and “normal” body. Countless studies have reported a surprising percentage of the population, all genders and ages (although especially young women) suffer from negative body image, and desire to change or “fix” their appearance.
Once again, we can thank the glamorized body ideals that pervade our society. With every photoshopped, face-tuned, airbrushed image posted to a feed, what is extraordinary is presented as a standard to which we perpetually struggle to live up to.
There was lots bundled into the pile of kindling that ignited my eating disorder, but a significant piece was the unattainable ideal of what I should (could) look like -- I just needed to try.
It takes a lot of work, a lot of time, and a lot of therapy to rewire the belief that the extraordinary is achievable simply through try. And even more to come to accept the ordinary, the normal, the “what is” as just as worthy and meaningful.
I am now in a very average position in my life; I am paying an average rent, living in a perfectly average house, working a very average, but rewarding job as a teacher; I am at an average weight, in an ordinary body, that is beautifully healthy and functioning. I bake sourdough bread that is far from perfect, but tasty. I take pole classes with fellow students and instructors that keep me humble about how much I still have to learn. And I love every minute of it.
I am coming to realize that the worst part of being “ordinary” is holding on to the belief that you shouldn’t be.
As soon as you can let that go, and embrace what is for exactly how it is, happiness and meaning and purpose just start pooling at your feet, as if a hose has just been unkinked and freed to flow.
There is a fine line between self-acceptance and self-improvement. I may never be a vet or an olympic snowboarder or a broadway singer. I will never look like a Victoria secret angel, or be 5’8 with long legs and a short torso.
But I can be perfectly happy and fulfilled working towards being the best version of average me, teaching and writing and riding and snowboarding for the joy of it, laughing over my mistakes and failures, and making connections with other people who are equally as human-- NOT allowing my insecurities and shame to isolate me.
This is self-acceptance. To be okay and happy exactly as you are, and where you are, grateful for you in all its ordinary excellence.
And once you do that, you might start to notice where meaning and happiness truly reside— and be free from the unattainable ideals of perfection.
The Parent Trap: The Challenges of Quarantining Back at Home (as an adult).
During this pandemic I have been quarantining with my family at my parents’ house in the suburbs for the past six weeks. While I am grateful to be with family during this time, and not being completely isolated, it brews a whole other pot of challenges. The last time we were all living together under one roof for a substantial period of time was over five years ago, while we “kids” were all still in school. With each of us having spent a couple years out of the nest and in our own independent routines, now coming back together around the dinner table, sharing bathrooms, and claiming work space has caused some tension to say the least. More than that, is the added challenge of dealing with some of my own emotional shit that seems to have resurfaced with coming back to my childhood home.
finding a quiet workspace while quarantining in a house of people is challenging.And I know that I am not the only one. Our family, and our homes, can be a place we feel comfortable. But there is a fine line between “comfortable” and “comfort zone.” Right now, many of us are being tested by our living situations, with repercussions both on our own personal well-being, as well as on our relationships.
So let’s begin by digging in to some of the greatest challenges I’ve been facing since being back home.
Challenges about Quarantining at Home with Family:
Food disappears. Those leftovers you put away last night, thinking they would be a great lunch the next day? Well unless you’re getting up to eat them at 7 am, they’re gone.
Constant dishes. Before coming back to this house, my roommates and I used to run our dishwasher once every one or two days. There was never a pile up of dishes because we always did our own. Now, with six adult appetites in the house and family meals, our dishwasher is going at least twice a day… and still there is a pileup in the sink.
Staking out workspace. Everyone here is either working or studying from home right now, or both. We have a big house with multiple rooms. And yet still it seems there is a constant musical chairs of who is working where based on where the best light is, if there’s people making noise in other parts of the house, or if the wifis acting up. Which bring me to the next point…
Wifi hogging. Despite countless calls to our provider, our wifi always seems to be a little finicky, even before all of us were home. These days with six of us on multiple devices, we’re finding that we need to reset the router multiple times a day. It turns out we are all enslaved to internet in isolation: whether it be working on the computer, scrolling social media, on zoom chats, watching netflix, or playing online Catan, it seems there is never a time we are NOT connected.
Falling back into old patterns. This is the largest challenge of all, and the most difficult to overcome. What these old patterns or habits are will very from person to person. For my mother, it is feeling like she is responsible for feeding and cleaning up for everyone as if we were still young kids, and not full grown adults perfectly capable of feeding and caring for ourselves. For us “kids”, it is often reverting back into that role, and not pulling the same weight around the house as we were when living independently.
“Old Habits Die Hard”- Environmental Triggers and Wired Thought Patterns
Old patterns aren’t just in relation to family roles, but may also resurface as old neural pathways light up again, triggered by a return to a familiar environment. The first week I was back home I started to fall into some old unhealthy habits that used to define my days when I was living at home full time, and very much in the thick of an eating disorder. But after a few days of skipping lunch, and going a little overboard on exercise, and feeling totally unbalanced (and like mental shit), I recognized what was happening and committed myself to a more sustainable routine. It took me by surprise, because many of those thoughts and behaviours never crossed my mind living downtown. It was something about being back in the place where I was engaging in those patterns that caused them to resurface. However, the most significant change was simply awareness. Recognizing what I was doing as being counterproductive and not in line with the person I wanted to be.
Being back in your childhood home can often bring back old patterns of behaviours- some not so healthyFor you, it could be other kinds of thoughts or behaviours that are resurfacing. Maybe you are finding yourself less patient or picking fights or more critical of the people you are living with. Maybe you are finding that your room or workspace is getting more cluttered or messy, looking more like it may have when you were living in it as a teenager. Or maybe you are finding yourself sleeping in late into the morning (or afternoon) and staying up much too late without doing anything very productive.
Whatever your old habits may be, if you find them resurfacing during this time, don’t beat yourself up over it. Understand WHY it is happening, and commit yourself to rewire those neural pathways.
Have self-compassion, but don’t let your brain pull one over on you either. Make the changes, little or big, that you need to, in order to keep in line with the person you want to be.
For me, that meant making myself a schedule that had me eating breakfast within an hour of waking up each day, and then eating something every three hours to keep my brain from reverting back to that feast or famine mentality that I was operating in for most of my eating disorder. It also meant not doing the same exercise, varying the kinds and amounts, each day, so none became compulsive. Several weeks in, it still means deliberately choosing to walk LESS than the day before, or do a restorative flow instead of a core class, just to remind my brain that we aint doing that exercise obsession thing anymore.
Making little changes in your daily routine can make a big difference in your mental health So, think about your habits:
What habits are you happy with?
How might you be thinking or behaving that is NOT in line with the person that you want to be?
What tangible steps can you take to change those thoughts or behaviours?
I am NOT talking about drastic lifestyle changes. If you want to change sleeping in till noon and watching netflix til 3, Try setting your alarm for 10. Schedule a zoom call or a social distance walk with a friend for 11. The next week, set your alarm for 9. And so on.
You are the master of your mind, and in turn, you are the master of your actions. This time in isolation is by no means easy, whether you are isolating on your own or with family.
You have two options: (1) You can either just cope, ride out the quarantine with your eyes closed until its over. Or (2), you can use this place of discomfort to grow, to strengthen your character, enhance your self-awareness, and build your resilience.
And if you commit to that overall big picture of who you want to be, how you want your relationships to be, once this is all over, you will come out of this a stronger, happier person than you were going in.
Stay healthy, friends,
Jordan
Xoxo
