Tag: #change

I Fear Retirement

Posted on by Tracy Livingston M.Ed.

Spring Break brings me a sense of peace, quiet, and the organization and rotation of clothes (love a good closet), and silence. This brings me joy, a needed recharge, and since I am nearing the end of my career, it causes me great concern as to what’s in my future retirement plans. Long ago, in my fantasy phase, We would hop on a cruise and do the world. Yes, with the hubs. “We” would go from port to port in utter class and see the world. I priced that. Not happening. But a yearly big trip can be organized and afforded. Yes, it can. One trip a year. Just one. A cruise maybe two, Denmark, Ireland, Fiji, Australia, Philippines, Japan, Germany. Italy, and a revisit to France and England. I love to go see, go explore, and go experience other cultures. So does the hubs, he just does not like the planning or spending. But we deserve a yearly exploration. Well, that is two weeks out of the year including packing. Now what. Truly, I draw a blank. Golf? Bad back. But I do like the fact that it takes all day. Again, bad back. Not an option. Besides, had a tantrum on a course with the hubs and picked up the ball, clubs, and chucked them. They did not go far. But it felt good. We went home, clubs in tow. My hubs won’t golf with me anymore.

Volunteering. Possible but when I cross the finish line of teaching, my giving myself for free, is over. But it’s not out of my possible options. Not sure who wants a retired teacher but someone might, or in reality, I might need them more. The fear of boredom is quite real and with golf out, traveling limited, grocery shopping with my husband out, way out. Have you seen those cute couples who banter about what cut of beef they want and actually enjoy the grocery experience? We are not them.

We are building a dream home up north and have another down south. Very south. Will we spend time there? Yes. But both places are in gorgeous areas with an abundance of quiet. I like a balance. Less and less as the years go on, but purpose and a little noise in life is needed. Teach online? Get my restorative yoga certification, open a Montessori school or a yoga studio in Neebish Island? Just continue my essays and complete the book? Or just waking up everyday to a new adventure and let the day unfold…Nah. structure is needed. Heck, I even ask to go to the bathroom and always will, so while retirement scares me the options are amazing.

Cortisol

Posted on by Tracy Livingston M.Ed.

Cortisol, a word I never used until this year. It should be the eighth dirty word. It is a sneaky bugger that wreaks havoc on women. Have we not had enough life changes in our fifty plus years. A fat gut, while living on lettuce and air is no reward that feels worthy for the pain of child-birth or the menstrual suffering. We deserve better. I suggest shoes and a new bag, or two, to ease into the depths of cortisol, as no one escapes this misery.

Technically, “Cortisol is a steroid hormone, in the glucocorticoid class of hormones. When used as a medication, it is known as hydrocortisone. It is produced in many animals, mainly by the zona fasciculata of the adrenal cortex in the adrenal gland. It is produced in other tissues in lower quantities.” Or “Cortisol, the primary stress hormone, increases sugars (glucose) in the bloodstream, enhances your brain’s use of glucose and increases the availability of substances that repair tissues. Cortisol also curbs functions that would be nonessential or harmful in a fight-or-flight situation.”In simple terms it is a regulator of stress. More stress, more cortisol and more sugar and weight. Told you it was a bad word.

The basic symptoms of cortisol imbalance are the following:

  1. Weight gain, especially in your face and abdomen.
  2. Fatty deposits between your shoulder blades.
  3. Wide, purple stretch marks on your abdomen (belly).
  4. Muscle weakness in your upper arms and thighs.
  5. High blood sugar, which often turns into Type 2 diabetes.

In essence if you are in menopause or postmenopausal, you fall into this category, and are struggling with the physical and emotional effects. For the weary there is little sleep, weight gain, emotions out of wack, and the feeling that you do not belong in any category of clothes as your age and body don’t match. You feel out of sorts. Everyday. There is no cure. Only to try to balance your system out with the correct diet and exercise. Now, while I profess to trying every diet in existence, and recently a fasting gig, that made me feel a longing for coffee creamer in my sad black coffee that I could not get down. I know life is not a diet. They don’t work. It is consistently eating well plus movement thst equals less weight and overall health. The diets are just fads that give us the illusion that our weight gained through last night’s pizza or hormone imbalance is possible. With work, patience, and putting diets on the shelf and embracing the concept of eating for our age and our bodies.

Not a paid promotion but just began Metabolic Renewal. I am on week one but love the support group and learning that I am not alone as I tread the waters of an almost carb free and sugar free life, oh and exercise. So far, I feel more energetic. I will take that for a win. As for the scale, we broke up, not sure we will have date again. Possibly, in a few weeks. https://www.metabolicrenewal.com/

Intermittent Fasting

Posted on by Tracy Livingston M.Ed.

If I lost twenty pounds that would be enough for me to stop feeling like I live on a life of dieting. Truth be told, I need to lose this weight. Not optional. Obviously, no gun to my head, just a life of desires to be met, and weight does limit us in many ways. I have flipped and flopped dieting programs to find the magic cure and save a buck or two. Today, I go deeper. Intermittent fasting. Aka starving. I am choosing the 16:8 schedule because it is the only one I feel is remotely possible in my life. The basic concept is eat at noon and stop at 8pm. Obviously, normal healthy meals that fit into my point system. Not just anything that comes my way during this time frame. I am already hungry. My choices are water, black coffee, tea, and a green juice with low enougg carbs so it is really not a food. Unsure where that exists, so going to stick with the other options.

It is 7 AM and I have already broken the mold of fasting. I put less than a tablespoon of my creamer in my coffee. I guess that’s it right. No, I will work towards black coffee. I tried it…spit it out…and added a bit of creamer. I am a work in progress. Definitely.

10:18 AM starving. Drinking more coffee with the untraceable amount of creamer and switching to my water while fantasizing about lunch. Not in a great place.

11:40 AM LUNCH. I survived. I guess. My Real Food frozen bowl and carrots were inhaled and I treated myself with a protein bar for the win at two points. With that plus my water I did not feel deprived and my point count was obviously lower. I could see how this could work if I stay with this same motivation until retirement.

My thoughts of my morning starvation were gone until around dinner. I knew my window was short and my points flexible. Tonight, I had planned pasta. Perfect. Along with some fruit and the two (yes two) sugar free jello puddings, my points were intact. If I had given up the second jello, I would have been under my point goal. So, the evening is the time to be careful. No, I do not need to eat all my points. Just what I had planned for dinner. No extra or additional snacks. Just the snacks planned for the day, one after-school and an evening treat usually jello or popcorn. I am a wild one.

Day 2 begins and I am hungry but I am ignoring this feeling and looking forward to my coffee with a bit of creamer. Sorry not sorry. If starving is what weight loss goals are made of creamer is staying in my impure world as today I feel lighter. Just a bit.

Gave Up Influencing

Posted on by Tracy Livingston M.Ed.

My mid-life crisis seems to come and go depending on the day. It should be over. Technically. But mine has hunkered down to stay. I am either acting younger than my age (three instagrams and my flirting with influencer) keep laughing. I am back to one and grounded in the reality silver influencer is not happening. Or I am acting a bit over my age. A shopping at Chicos moment hit me right after devouring an Old Navy sale (love their stuff) for teaching. But truly the Chicos stuff is cute. Sigh. Or is it “the me” I am running from? Too many questions before coffee or my food that I consistently track to lose pounds that might have moved in forever. No Keep tracking. They will leave. Did I mention I spin? Yes, the cool girls exercise that blasts fat. Or in my case keeps it for the cold Arizona winters. Ah, 58. My new tread compounded with the bike will guide me through this mess. I think. Have to buy it first. Which brings me to Christmas. I overdid it. For everyone. It brought me true joy. The hubs not so much. It’s ok, on a teachers salary I will have this paid off by retirement. I got this. Screw the money. I made people happy. By people I mean the grandnugget. He was in heaven. His face. Every child should have his Christmas. The kid was thrilled as well, as he does not buy anything for himself, so I felt good. Like a magic elf bringing joy. While, not a fan of debt. This was worth it. Especially, for the hubs, as I brought him into 2022 with earbuds so he can retire the string hanging from his phone. The horror.

I digressed. Alot. Sorry. But the above frames my mid-life panic. Yesterday. I became a real-life tutor Mrs. L’s Tutoring and an Avon lady. Why? Oddly, not money. Ok. None of that would hurt, but a rich Avon lady is not my fantasy. Nope. Both digressions from the eventual retirement. As I can’t do this teaching thing forever. It is my calling, so to speak, without collar and celibacy. But everyear gets worse. I quit my weekly theater group, as $20 bucks a week is clearly not my scale. If you want the arts, I got you, but a real stipend please. Not babysitting. Just can’t. I am better than this. Sorry, if this offends those woke individuals worrying about the students feelings. I am too. But basically free ain’t working for me. Bring on the eyeliner.

I can picture retirement two ways on the cheaper end. Shoot me. Or with cushion. I want cushion and a full life of writing, tutoring, and possibly Avon. It’s fun. Why not. Now I need to try the product. Yesterday, in all my crazy stressful moments of overspending, I gained a true pause on what I want. That’s good. I want retirement, I want travel, I want the quiet of Neebish, the outlandish fun with the grandnugget and the ability to say no on my terms, not my bank accounts. This pushed me out of mid-life crisis into acceptance of my age and my desires to always be busy…busy…busy.

Now, back to my book (on chapter 2) and the moral of this chaotic dribble. Know your age, accept your age, do anything that makes you smile, spend too much, save, do you…and enjoy everyday. We are not guaranteed a tomorrow and my many tomorrow’s ahead will be readying for a lifetime of Chicos. And that’s ok! Good-bye midlife confusion. With my new acceptance and creation of a plan for the after-life of teaching, which includes, my writing, my forever tutoring, spinning, treading, Neebish, and my Avon…If throw in Paris and the hubs and this is a winning combination!

BTW here is my store. If you use the product. Please order. My top picks: eyeliner, and waterproof mascara. Give it a go or please share.

https://www.avon.com/repstore/TLivingston?rep=TLivingston

Extreme Quiet

Posted on by Tracy Livingston M.Ed.

In the last three weeks. It has been quiet. Very. But I am truly at the end of the world. Truly. If I screamed only a bear would cock his head. So, I stay quiet. I am on fourth book quickly heading to a fifth and sixth in my future before heading home aka the oven. Arizona. Now, I am not reading War and Peace or the complete series of Harry Potter, but I could have with the amount of peace and lack of lists to complete. I miss my lists. My blogging is almost daily with now over seventy-five followers has kept me sane. Thank you. If you are new to my blogging please realize that I just share stories. All mine, but random stories. I touch on areas in different areas of my life. Epilepsy, fitness, health, over 50 life, education, and political wife life. Plus, my new adventures on keto. However, I have no answers to life’s essential questions. So, a self-help guru, I am not. My hope is to make you chuckle. That’s all. Realizing, I often fail, or at times go in another direction. Writing about serious sh**. It does not happen often. So, don’t worry. Think of me as that neighbor that will always listen, entertain you with mindless BS, and go on their merry way. The more you read the closer you will get to the self I hide away from most. We all shelter ourselves to a certain degree. I am just willing to draw back the curtain with each blog. Why? I don’t know. I am sure there is a therapist that would be willing, for a price, to tell me why I write. I think I will pass on the cost and the suffering, and just write. Mystery is better.

During these quiet, cold, and rainy days in the middle of nowhere. Really. Nowhere. I have come to terms about my sons impending age. He is turning thirty. My weight-loss game that is starting soon. Again. Not worried. Well, kinda. But I already tackled the realization, the lists, and arranged my calendar for food prep. Now, I just have to follow the path I laid before me. The hardest part. It really is. Talking, writing, organizing, and even the creation of the meals is far simpler, than the day in, day out living a changed life with no guarantees, unless you stick to your guns. As for kids big day. I have sent gifts. Because, I still do. Do you? Or is it just me? And will fill his house with balloons. Just for the sheer joy of having his three year old happy. Not him.

This over-absorption of stillness reminded me how much I love to be busy. I am active by nature and need purpose. We all do. On an island purpose is more manual in nature. Nothing fancy. Back to basics. Now, while I am indulging my husband in his childhood dream. My areas of this summer home will come with internet, TV in every room, Peloton, and a writing area for just me. A camper, I am not. But the view and stillness is priceless for a couple weeks per year. A dream is a dream and his is mine, as he already said yes, to a European cruise with a stop at Disney Paris. So, we are even.

So while I am not going to give you the secrets to life, I will share that short amounts of peace, will bring you clarity in a world full of clutter and marvelous lists!

Tiffany’s is Always a Good Idea…

Posted on by Tracy Livingston M.Ed.

Today is our 33rd anniversary. I thought it was our 35th. Probably, because I wanted a big gift. But it is our 33rd. No big gift. I can’t even think of something that is worth this mountain of years. That’s good? Right? Or is it? Have we forgotten the art of celebration, become ho-hum or just understand it is not about the bling. It is the latter, but a trip to Tiffany’s is still in order on any given day. I have my gift picked out as of three years ago. Truly. No anniversary is ever needed just turn to page 27 of the catalog and we have it, can’t miss it! Really. We arrive at this moment with more questions than answers. The life of a politico has its moments which makes the ride a wild one and my little teaching life has been a thing this year. A real thing. So with time, more questions than answers, and the constant moving goalpost of retirement life, we have decided just to follow our hearts. Sounds sappy. Number 33 is our gift to follow our hearts and support our ever-changing dreams. I almost just threw up. Seriously. To know me is to understand gushy I am not. A gift with store wrapping and possibly a card is my thing. That is me in a nutshell. But I do give great gifts. Always. Just this year, there are no objects to be wrapped, just gushiness and heartfelt talks celebrating the years. This is our time to sort out our everlasting future, and treasure our present, as we approach those golden years. Tiffany’s sounds easier. Much.

In two days we are off to go to create a dream. A gift to ourselves. A week together in a car. Seriously. Stop laughing. I promised one cross-country trip in our marriage. Just one. Our final stop is property where we are starting the process of the building of an A-frame home on the water, in solitude, and embracing small town life. Seriously small. Ferry to the property small. Since we are in charge of the design, my request of my own peloton room and writing nook have been granted. The rest we oddly agree on. The home will be primarily used for the summers to just chill and for my writing and to enjoy the grandparent stuff. Swimming, rock collecting, fort building, raspberry hunting etc. Oh, yes and fishing. All so me. I am in charge of small town shopping. Moccasins, drums, bows and arrows, and cap guns. You know, outdoor crap. But shopping is still shopping. I am ready. It is time to enjoy the simplicities that life offers instead of constantly muddling through the mess. A special treasure is that all of this will be passed onto our son and his son for a lifetime of memories and traditions. So, this year our anniversary gift is listening to our hearts and making life decisions that fit not only our years in marriage but our future years of happiness. This has no wrapping. Just pure love and perhaps even testing our own levels of patience and commitment to what lies ahead. We got this.

So here’s to 33 Senator Hubs and to many, many more but please take a look at the Tiffany’s catalog page twenty-seven bottom right corner. If not this year, perhaps coming soon. While bling is not important it certainly makes me smile!

Progress Not Perfection

Posted on by Tracy Livingston M.Ed.

About a year ago I went on a hike. A short hike. Barely an incline. I almost died. I had to sit about five times, I cursed like a sailor, and requested that my car be brought up the hill (as my friend called it). To me it was akin to Mount Everest. My embarrassing moments were just that embarrassing. Staring at the finish line aka parking lot while just feet away seemed like miles.

Fast tracking to the end of this terror I made it to the car and cried all the way home. Not out of pain but the reality of how I let myself become a blob with no ability to walk a few miles upward.

Once upon a time I was in shape. The wedding. Check. After the wedding. Check. Pregnancy. Check. After pregnancy. Check. My son’s first eighteen years due to the country club life and the machines I had at my disposal. Check. Then real life hit. A few life issues mixed in with mid-life. Everytime I started the walk down the block, the online barre or pilates classes. I stopped. Made excuses and felt pure guilt at not being able to cross the line of consistency.

Covid-19 brought many of us to our fitness, social, emotional, or financial needs. For me I knew if I did not do something I would look like a parades floating balloon. Perhaps it was the social media perfection pictures that flashed at me during the daily boredom and scrolling hours or all the blogs of fifty somethings that look thirty. Whatever it was. It clicked. Onward to my echelon/peloton life.

The first seventy-three rides were of the twenty minute variety mixed with HITT, Tabata, pop and the low key variety. Today, I made a move. I went to thirty minutes. I did it. I survived and I will continue until I can go to forty-five minutes with the weekly goal of an hour. My goal is lofty but it will be achieved.

So, my shape is improving for me and my family, especially my grand-nugget who will never see his grandmother poop out at a park. Any park. Even one with great big mouse ears. Does my shape represent thirty at fifty-seven, no. But I am getting closer and feeling great about it!

Me First.

Posted on by Tracy Livingston M.Ed.

This spring break I did a thing. I opened up another blog (Mrs. Livingston’s World), created a TpT shop and became an Outschool teacher. Within a week I am a small business owner who has a shell of a business with calendared days to work on filling the emptiness with materials and classes. But I did it. I took the leap. Not once this week, but twice. Learning that I had to coordinate names and buy a website, you know in case I make oodles! Now with all of this exciting news I took a couple days away from my riding. Oops.

I have stepped away before in a variety of studios but my pause this week allowed me to reflect that I put everyone but myself first. I get to the edge and run and make excuses. Lots of them. All valid and usually involving another person or situation in need but all hiding the truth. I have been afraid of being the best physical me, but that is over. The first sixty-two classes are filling me up with a daily endorphin cocktail which I attribute to the mental confidence to not only put myself out there with my side business hustles, that have sat in limbo for two years, but my physical changes. This does not mean that getting on the bike is easy. It is not. But a needed habit it has become. The bike and I are on to something pretty great physically and mentally as I give it credit for my stronger body and willingness to tackle Mrs. Livingston’s World.

So, in honor of twenty-eight more rides, in exactly four weeks. I am tackling just getting on the bike, daily and completing my four week beginning journey with choosing a ride based on feelings and needs for the day. Do I need music from the 60’s, a hard push with Tunde or Alex ( my favorites) or the craziness of Cody or countless other options. I am bringing my body finding my needs and getting off with a smile. Whatever it is I am honoring it and riding with my head up and completing my journey for my mind, body, and soul.

Just Show Up

Posted on by Tracy Livingston M.Ed.

The first step of Peloton is “Just show up.” The epiphany is not mine, it is the company way, stated often, and a brilliant marketing tactic and a simple explanation of life. “Just show up.” After only twenty-five rides I am addicted to the mantras, coaches, entertainment, and the new fitter person I am becoming. Now, getting on the bike is not always easy, pretty, or physically pleasant. But it is my time where my showing up does equate to a better overall day due to endorphins and a mindset of positivity.

This week I taught my kids, during SEL time, about dreams, goals, and how to keep in the game when life keeps hitting us hard. My sweet 8th graders have survived unreal scenarios with no answer in sight. I reached into the social emotional learning lessons and inserted a few Peloton expressions and their little faces lit up. I guess it is true that everyone needs a little Ally Love in their lives!

Of course a lesson and a few fun quotes won’t solve the future issues looming over our littles lives. My kids find time to search me out or wait until class is over throughout the week and ask questions for which I have no answers. The frequency of their questions shows me that their stress level is going higher as the days pass. The questions are always the same but stated with their individual flair.

What will school look like next year?

Will it be scary to be back with new kids?

Will we wear masks forever?

Will the shot work?

What about the new strains?

Can we just stay virtual?

Will anyone remember me?

Will anyone like me?

That last one gets me in the heart. But my kids have been missing in action, coping with family, and trying to learn in a bubble chosen by their parents for a variety of reasons. My kids are home by choice and waiting out a storm that keeps bubbling up at every surface. Obviously, I have no answers but their fragility is noted. I shared that I am going to get the vaccine during my “lunch bunch” one student cried real tears as she thought that meant I would not be her teacher. I calmed her down and after I got off camera. I cried. Not even Ms. Love’s spirit and words could calm me down. A “Boss” I was not at that moment more like a puddle of emotions.

All of their questions are now in overdrive due to high-school enrollment on their plate. So I have adopted the Peloton mantra of just showing up into my virtual classroom. Everyday I welcome them by noting their good choices of showing up, being present, turning on the camera, and participating in school and life. This new phrase of congratulations of just showing up seems simple but to my littles they understand that this is the first step to each and everyday. To acknowledge the good choices they are making is my attempt to counter their fears and teach that no matter what the day brings we all have to decide to “Just Show Up” and tackle the day bit by bit. If mantras and power of positive thought can get this 57 year old to ride everyday because of that feeling of wow that I feel during and after the ride, just think of how consistent power of positive thought can transform my littles overwhelming fears.

It is my hope to turn my puddles of concern to strong personalities of positive thoughts for their exciting lives that await them if they are brave enough to peek around the corner.

The Year of Play

Posted on by Tracy Livingston M.Ed.

In 2021 I am gonna play. The simple definition of play is to engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose. Sounds much better than being all grown up and oh so serious every single day. I have done that long enough so I deserve a break. We all do.

Now, truth be told I have been adulting so long that play is foreign. Over the holidays I was reintroduced to the concept by my grandson. At first, I just played any game he desired but I did it as an adult. Not the same. As an adult we get bored, we worry about toy pieces, where the toys will be housed, is this a good toy for development etc. It is exhausting. So I left my reality over the holidays and entered his fantastical experience.

All time and space stopped when I looked into his eyes and did whatever he wanted and together we made each game or activity even bigger. Stuffed animals became babies taking a nap. Who cares, if we are tardy for anything. Diapers were needed on the adult view of stuffed animals which were obvious babies without their needed accoutrements. Unfortunately, my son had no more bottles in the house, as we were ready to go to the next level. Note to self, send bottles. ABC games became a place where my voice and voices brought laughter. Paw Patrol anything was just over the top fun with the focus on the chase to solve the next problem. The mailbox in Blues Clues house became a series of letters to my nugget. Note to self, send real mail. It brings joy. I became immersed. I laughed. I forgot about the reality of life. I found my smile, my true one behind each game, hug, hand holding experience. Oh and my laugh. I found my real laugh. Not the giggle at cuteness. A belly laugh that brought tears of joy. That one. It exists. 2020 did not rip it away from me forever and it was a pleasure to have it back. Now obviously, without being checked into a pysch ward I must leave our little fantasy world and tackle daily life but my vow is to always find a bit of play in any activity to take away the mundane and bring the needed joy that 2020 obviously sapped from my soul into 2021. I will dress up more, wear more make-up (even under my mask), wear the good jewelry, and eat off the good china, well at least a couple times but I will drink my champagne out of our good crystal that is locked away like a prisoners. They will be free in 2021. My dinners will be more varied, and while I hate cooking, I will delight in my hubs appreciation. I will sing more and loudly during my new found love of spinning and will not beat myself up if I am exhausted and can’t get on the saddle. Instead, I will do yoga. Life is short. I will doodle in color and write my class lessons to always include play. My virtual students deserve to find their play as their days in 2020 have been met with confusion and a world of fear.

So onto my year of play. The year of laughter, smiles, hugs, and pure enjoyment that is priceless and found inside of every child, and if you look closely, within yourself. My challenge to you is to bring out your play, in whatever form works for you, as it has not been completely lost. Trust me once you find it you will never ever let it go!

Happy New Year!