Peach Friedman
author, educator & trainer
intuitive fitness for women

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What makes us who we are? Our parents? Our genetics? Our environment? Our daily practice? Our education? Who knows.

Today, who I am is grateful.
Thank you for…

This Alabama spring. Wisteria, dogwood, magnolia, forsythia, azalea, lush lush, green green, thank you thank you.

My little family.

Two things, simple things, but fundamental things. They fill me up.

Love,
Peach

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recovery doesn’t mean perfection. it means honesty, preparedness, adaptability, flexibility, vulnerability, friendship. what do you think?

last night, in bed with my husband (i’ll spare you the juicy details!) i made a few less than loving comments about my body. they pretty much had to do with feeling un-sexy due to some bloating (oh, the realities of womanhood) and a bit antsy from lack of exercise since we moved.

caring husband jumped in with a worried comment or two. i thought about it. but here’s what i think.

it’s okay to feel yucky. it’s okay to wish i wasn’t bloated. it’s okay to want some exercise after about a month without (since we moved). none of these things means i have an eating disorder. none of these things mean i’m not recovered. they mean that i’m human. a woman, living in a breathing, feeling, sensing, ever-changing body.

part of recovery means listening to our bodies (this is a very large part of recovery, if you ask me) and my body last night was saying it didn’t feel great. i translated this to my husband through my emotions, “i don’t feel sexy.” this makes sense to me, as i believe in the psycho-somatic connection, and it doesn’t feel like an eating disordered leap.

in fact, the more i think about it, the more this event feels like a testament to my recovery. the old, eating disordered peach would not have shared these feelings with anyone. she would have buried them deep inside, cut calories, found a way to get in an extra workout. the eating disordered peach could not have gone a month without exercise! she would not be sharing her bed with her beloved! she would be incapable of softening to the point of allowing either of these things to happen.

when i speak about recovery, i tell people that being recovered does not mean i never have a negative thought about myself. but a negative thought is different from an eating disordered thought. an eating disordered thought is irrational, destructive, deceitful. a negative thought is destructive too, but hey, i’m human.

i want to make this distinction because i think it’s an important one. the peach of yesterday would have used her thoughts against her, found a way to hide from them through her behaviors. the peach of today (that’s me!) shares her feelings with her husband, and moves on. what more can you ask of a modern, evolving woman?

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I was sad to tell my little Victoria, who woke up from her nap today asking for her Mimi, that she had gone home on the airplane.

But, it was a very good week.
My flour, sugar, oats, spices, cereals, and more are now in pretty glass jars. Almost every box is unpacked, with our belongings in (at least a temporary) place. Flowers are cut and in vases, porch doors are scrubbed clean, and I have the start to a new spring/summer wardrobe. Yes, my mother’s touch is everywhere I turn…

Which also means I had my share of cries this week, the kind that come from a very deep & very tender, almost primal, place within, that place which has some somatic memory of having been carried by my mother for those nine months before being delivered from her body.

I’m exploring what it means to be human (always) and what it means to have faith (always) and how those two things intersect. I don’t have any answers but I do know that I’m grateful to be alive, grateful to have a mother and also to be a mother, grateful to have a sweet baby girl who asks for my mother, and grateful for (of course I didn’t forget you) a husband who lets his mother in law sweep into his home with all her opinions.

Oh, to be a woman. Such a continuous journey!

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Thanks to everyone who helped make my event on Tuesday evening at James Madison University such a success! It was a privilege to be part of such a dynamic & vibrant community for a day, and such a treat to see a few dear friends in the crowd!

xoxo

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Victoria sleeps through the night, and has for a long while. I’m grateful for a good sleeper, because mommies need their sleep too. I suffered from postpartum depression in the haze that followed her birth, and I know the tiredness didn’t help.

Last night, as Jeffrey and I were drifting off, I heard my little one making sounds in her bed. So when I was woken up by those same noises at nearly one a.m., I got out of bed to check on her. Maybe a little runny noise, maybe teething, maybe an upset tummy, but whatever the cause, I decided to give her a bottle in the rocking chair, an indulgent little mid-night treat.

There’s something about being a mommy. Soothing and holding my sweet girl until she was back in slumber land. Before going back under my own cozy down, I went into the kitchen, sat down at the table, and ate a banana (I guess my equivalent of a bottle of milk!). Feeling so warm and fuzzy, I padded back down the hall to bed. It’s funny how circumstances change, and last night, waking up in the wee hours to be with my Victoria was a magical moment.

Grateful!

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They say it’s the small things in life that bring happiness, and I couldn’t agree more. Right now I’m relishing…

It’s nearly Easter, which means that jellybeans will be my afternoon snack for a couple more weeks. Did I mention, I love jellybeans!? Even the black ones, which so many people leave, collected together in the bottom of the bag.

When it comes to books, I roll through phases like some of you probably do, too. Sometimes I’m deep and serious, while other times I just want to relax and have fun. Right now, I’m feeling the latter, which means I’m reading grocery store books. Just finished: Firefly Lane, by Kristin Hannah. I devoured it in a few days, mostly in the bathtub.

And today I took the cash my father handed me on his way out of town this morning (thanks, Daddy!) and treated my family to sandwiches and soda at Toomer’s Drugs. It was a perfect, bright, sunny day today, and Victoria and I strolled to lunch, talking about flowers and bumblebees.

Plus, trees are in bloom. Oh, it feels good to be back under the Magnolias!

What’s your list of little things today?

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Well, here I am in Auburn. I have to say, I really love it here. I feel more at home in my surroundings than I have in years, and this is bringing out my mommy-nesting, full-swing.

It’s a funny thing: the second I knew this move was a possibility, I said to my husband, If we live in Alabama, I want to have another baby. Some of you (especially those who know me well, but maybe others will relate) understand that this comes from some inner struggle I had, living in California all that time. I never quite felt rooted or at home there, and this made me cling–at times desperately!–to my original roots. I didn’t want to let go of my maiden name, I didn’t want to surrender to being wife and mother in this land that felt exciting, but always a little foreign to me. I was afraid that if I didn’t work, I would lose my sense of self, which already felt compromised living so far from home.

So, though Alabama isn’t Virginia, it’s a similar landscape, climate, and culture. With this in mind, the idea of raising a family here relaxed me immediately, and now the reality of it has continued this feeling, to find me sliding, sweetly and softly, down a little toddler slide into a soft, downy bed of ease.

I mean it. I went yesterday to the social security office and changed my name. Legally! I haven’t even told my dad yet that I’m officially a Dumars (although I imagine I’ll continue to work as a Friedman, since that’s how I started). And speaking of work, I’m not. I’m actually challenging myself to six whole months of homemaking, mothering, and learning to cook (yikes!!) before I make the decision as to whether or not I’m going to a) have another baby or b) dive back into my various realms of money-making. This challenge is for a couple of reasons…the first being that I tend to take on too much, right away, before I really think about whether it supports the life I want to lead, or not. I want to move into the next phase of my life deliberately, not frantically. The second reason for my six month hiatus is that I’m coming off of a couple of crazy years, and I think my body, mind, and daughter need me to slow down and be there for them. I figure after six months, I’ll either really want another babe in my arms, or I’ll run screaming from the kitchen & nursery, eager to get going again.

I have an inkling, though, that the truth will lie somewhere in between. That eventually I will write and publish again, or teach yoga again, or pack my schedule again with speaking engagements, but for now, and for six months, let’s just see what happens.

(As an aside… I am scheduled to speak at James Madison University in a couple of weeks, and I’m due on a radio show in April. So I guess I can’t say I won’t work at all, just…less. It really is a challenge for me to take time off. One newspaper that reviewed my book referred to me as a Type A+, and they weren’t talking about my blood, rather, my crazy drive to do it all, do it well, and do it now. As cool as this looks from the outside, it can be exhausting for the person living that life.)

Finally, for those who have been asking for photos, hang on a little longer! My camera is broken and things are a bit too chaotic (boxes everywhere!) for me to be that organized yet!

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We’re in the home stretch of packing, and it’s all-consuming. I leave for Alabama in two days!. Eeee!

Yesterday, I taught my last class at Asha Yoga, and Thursday evening my girlfriends took me out for wine and dessert. Goodbyes are sad for certain, but I feel so much hope and excitement for this new adventure.

I will post an update in a couple of weeks with more information about my new home. Until then…wish me luck on the move!

xoxo

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While driving up to Chico State to give a talk last night in honor of Eating Disorders Awareness Week, I heard this on the radio:

Kai Ryssdal’s final note…
Courtesy of the New York City school system… Officials there are rightly concerned about childhood obesity, which is why they’re set to approve a new rule covering what kinds of foods can be sold by student groups during the school day.

Certain flavors of Doritos, though, are totally okay. Pop-Tarts, too.

So disturbing that our school systems prefer processed snack foods to homemade treats because they trust the nutrition information more than the body’s own ability to regulate hunger and satiety. People, we need to collectively make some change. This decision by the New York City school system is not going to make a dent in the “obesity epidemic,” believe me. Teach your children to listen to and honor their bodies, not to count calories.

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