31 Days Ridiculous
Updated: Jun 3, 2020
Thelō Home & Modern Wellness is just over a year old. We started our health & lifestyle coaching last spring and haven't stopped since. Every year, January is detox month for me, no resolutions, just a dry, self-care focused, stay at home month. I long for it weeks before it's arrival, sometimes from the February when it last ended, which is what provoked introducing this blog despite the overly saturated insta-wellness world out there. It hit me this morning why on earth would I or anyone long for, wait for, anticipate a way of living that promotes healing, longevity, energy, spiritual awakening, productivity, magical sleep, glowing skin and hair, well-fitting clothes, true presence with people I love...Really? I wait for it? To only indulge in it for 31 days? This isn't to say that I don't lead a rather unique and healthy lifestyle most of the time. I'm a girl full of adaptogens (my grandfather used to say a girl full of groceries)! Chaga, pau d'arco, and random other potions mingle in my morning bone broth, after my celery juice on an empty stomach and ghee-filled Bulletproof coffee. Glass straw anyone? Then there's this: I love Jesus, but I drink a little. I can't wait to plop in front of a T.V. - anywhere - and disappear into someone else's reality, foregoing a well cooked meal, a great book, an infused tub with ancient minerals. I'm exhausted by my own unmet expectations that I reinstate each morning. This year has to be radically different if I hope to see this individual I've dreamed about my entire life. I have a great, forever mispronounced name, my story, though chunks are a bit of a cliché, is interesting to throw around during certain parties, who else gets to start a story with, "Yeah, I'm a preacher's kid from Lubbock, Texas..." That I was spanked relentlessly, in unexpected places and situations always brings a chuckle. So I'd like to keep the interesting parts and get rid of the true cliché, which is what I see most commonly: an unwillingness to go to the painful places where life has settled within, to tap out of the chase, all the things and activities that cover-up and predict at the same time, that if we stay on the run long enough we can numb ourselves until death. Disguised as well dressed, well-meaning, "spiritual" but not "religious" beings, fighting some cause or another, yet absent from ourselves, because someone might find us out...find out what? It's our stories, pain, survival, awkwardness, fading photographs that make us so likable, redeemable, interesting. How dull are those who have nothing to say about their life, where it has left them, and where they hope it leads them?
Here's to 31 days of getting awkward and interesting...