Cooking Insecurities

Quondam: former; onetime

I used to HATE cooking.

Whenever someone asked me what my least favorite thing was to do, “cooking” was always my prompt reply. Surveys requiring responses for disliked hobbies? Oh, easy. Cooking.  Young men would ask how I would plan on taking care of my future man in culinary ways; I told them to mind their own lives, and I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.cooking-knife-vegetables-meats-cutting boards

Growing up, I was a perfectionist. I liked things to be done a certain way, and I didn’t like to look bad. (Who am I kidding? I still don’t!) Because of these silly fears, I chose not to try out multiple things in fear of failing and being “found out.”

Additionally, I was a homeschooled child. Unlike many of my friends who were one of 5 or 8 or 10 children, I was one of 3. I was four years old when my baby brother was born, so I didn’t have to grow up babysitting or taking on household management to help my mom out. We were all babies.

I watched with envy when my friends could cook up a find tasting meal, change a babies’ diaper, or wrangle kids effectively. Babies would cry the instant I touched them, and I really didn’t know how to cook. Thank God I loved (still do) cleaning though. At least I wouldn’t be a complete lump on a log who just ate and did nothing to contribute.

From those moments on, a soul with mounted insecurity swore to never have children or never cook. It was easy to hide behind my fears and make pseudo-promises to myself. I didn’t have littles in my life, and mom did all the cooking. (Or the nights she was in no mood to whip up a meal, trusty old chips & salsa/cheese & crackers quieted my hunger pangs!)

As time passed, I began digging into the “whys” of my avowed statements. It wasn’t the fact I merely thought cooking took forever, and I was too lazy so no bueno. I realized it was my self-imposed limitations and prides/fears that inhibited me from living out these enriching tasks, namely cooking.

To take a load off her plate, my mom asked me to start cooking several months ago. I initially balked at the request, but since I’m not a terrible daughter and for the sake of her task load, I started. At first, I hated it. But over time, I realized that enjoyment started creeping into my mindset. I actually started looking forward to the process and cooking for loved ones.
Now, I welcome mom’s feedback and corrections. I find joy in the experimentation and the verbalized “yummy!” from my family or friends. It’s no longer about how I look but how I can serve my loved ones. And quite frankly, what does “perfect” look like anyway?

~Lina Marie

What Is This Bitterness I’m Tasting?!

Physiognomy: the outward appearance of anything, taken as offering some insight into its character

Have you ever woken up one morning already craving a smoothie? I climbed out of bed, already scouring for fruits and healthiness before making my French press of coffee (let me tell you, that’s pretty rare.)

It wasn’t hard to find what I was looking for. Pineapples. Bananas. Unripe mangoes. (Ehh, we’ll put those in there anyway.) I was reminded we had frozen blueberries and strawberries in the freezer in the basement, so I hauled both bags up.

Our blender sucks. I always have to put the soft ingredients in first to give the other fruits some “lubricant” to get pulverized as well. It makes a whirring noise that sounds like those annoying lawn-care machines you wake up to on a Saturday morning. (Or let’s be real. The one’s that wake YOU up on a Saturday morning. Ugh.) I have to keep shaking the darn thing to mix all the fruit up.

In addition to the berries and fruits, I like to sprinkle in cinnamon, pour in flax seed, spoon in peanut butter, and shake in some chia seeds. They’re all rich in protein and have other beneficial properties.

For a long time, we had a bag of organic Neem powder sitting in our dish cabinet. I had no idea what it was, but when I opened the bag and took a whiff, it smelled like wheatgrass. (I mean, if something says “Ayurverdic Herbs”, it ought to be healthy, am I right?) Shrugging with indifference, I tossed in some Neem powder happy to be extra healthy today.

Once the smoothie was all mixed up, I took a spoonful to see how it tasted.

Hmmm, perfectly sweet and tart and…EWW. Why does this smoothie taste bitter?!

Horror of horrors. I didn’t realize Neem powder was bitter!!! I ruined a perfectly good smoothie out of ignorance. (*long, dramatic sigh*)

Not one to be wasteful, I bore the bitterness, telling myself to be grateful that at least my body was happy even though my tongue kept yelling at me. It wasn’t a bitterness that affected one area of your tongue, but spreads throughout your entire mouth. It probably took me an hour to drink the whole thing.

After a few big mouthfuls, it dawned on me how like life this smoothie was. We hope for sweetness and have a variety of different blessings in life that resemble it. But then we add something to our lives that adds some bitterness and we have to suffer the consequences later. The Neem powder resembled something else I already knew about, so I assumed this imposter would be alright too.Smoothie-neem powder-morning

But you know what? Life is usually never always sweet. There will always be something bitter, undesirable, distasteful that ruins the season or lot. However, we can focus on how frustrating it is or see it as character-building and stretching.

I finished that smoothie like an Olympian finishing a grueling race. You ain’t beating me today! I win.

~Lina Marie

realAre you interested in what Neem powder even is and the amazing health benefits it possesses? Click this link here for more information. Health on!

Pride Goeth Before the Ball

Outform: external appearance

A friend invited a group of us for a gathering at her house. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, but since I lack a refined fashion sense, I threw on my Chacos per usual. (Because whether you go shopping or hiking, they’re perfect, am I right?)

I arrived at her house and walked down a cobblestone stairway before being greeted by a spacious, green backyard and some people playing volleyball in the distance. I was grateful it wasn’t raining, though I knew the mild weather would attract all the mosquitoes. (I’m such a mosquito magnet. UGH!)

I played volleyball for three months in high school, but that was almost seven years ago. And I didn’t grow up in an active, sporting family. I hardly go to the gym and my idea of “booking it” is lounging with a captivating read, so I Volleyball-Summer-Backyard-Friendswas interested to see if my old athletic chops wouldn’t fail me.

I was one of two girls on my team and the other girl clearly played volleyball regularly. She served exquisitely, volleyed every ball, and spiked a few times. I’m usually a pretty confident person, but I noticed I was shaking from adrenaline (or nervousness?). I HATE looking bad and sports always has a way of exposing me. Most of my serves veered off at an embarrassing angle. I didn’t hit the ball hard enough to go to the other side multiple times. I cost our team a few points. (Crazily enough, I managed to spike the ball and punt it to the other side during another play. Needless to say, I didn’t know what the heck I did. Not talent, my friends. Just blessings.)

After a few games, I was ready to go inside and nurse my mosquito bites (and, ahem, pride). I even squinted warily at some of the warrior, athletic beasts and had the audacity to think they probably weren’t as good at writing, dancing, or singing as me. Anything to make ourselves feel better. I may have seemed confident and even decent, but as the old adage goes, “appearances can be deceiving.”

How I managed to be on the winning team all three times, I’ll never know.
~Lina Marie

 

 

 

Floating Epiphany

Notandum: a thing to be observed or noticed

Oh no, her lips are pursed!

Her body language looks like she’s not interested and already has some defenses to make.

MOM! Just give it a REST…

Mom and I were in an office with the two owners, a husband and wife, of this particular business. We had come to pitch some ideas about website redesign, social media upkeep, and other business promoters. They wanted to grow and we were there to help throttle them into a new and exciting time.

Except, I wasn’t doing much pitching. I was just listening to my mom propose interesting suggestions while I was battling my discomfort and hushing my fears.

You see, I’ve never been one to embrace conflict and tend to err on the side of people pleasing. I like to be liked. If I sense a whiff of disagreement, my natural instinct is to change the subject or jump more on board with whomever I’m communicating with even if I disagree. I also don’t like selling people anything. An idea. A book. Myself. Forget it. Getting a “no” sucks, so I’d rather just smile, nod, and agree.

The wife looked like she wasn’t quite following or understanding or agreeing with what my mom was saying, and it took everything within me not to brush over the subject and move unto more agreeable topics. The objections the wife had were fair, but sometimes we cling unto things that gave us success in the past rather than trying new formats that might bring us new successes and opportunities in the future.

And that’s where it clicked.

Here I was internally fighting against my selfishness, my “default” when reagirl-butterfly-statue-kneelinglly, I had no reasons to feel this fear at all. Holding unto old fears, old ways of thinking, old ways of doing things might have had their place at point but need to be re-evaluated for usefulness or benefit.

Conflict is NOT bad and NOT to be avoided. Friction and growing pains may be hard, but that’s where the good stuff happens. New ideas are shared. Relationships are built. Risks are taken. Understanding takes place. Deals are signed.

And really, a “no” isn’t that bad. There are a myriad of reasons why someone may say that and that “no” may just mean I need to figure out a new way of doing something.

After what seemed like an eternity, we stood up, gave hugs, shook hands. We toured the floor, happily admiring the amenities and hominess the place provided. As we were leaving, I noticed a statue of a little girl with a butterfly in her palm on the counter near the door. Immediately, I shook my head in amused laughter, because it seemed like a perfect representation of the solution I needed.

Children are so trusting and carefree. They’re inquisitive, explore, and ask “why”. They’re awed by every new experience and new discovery. They learn quickly. They tumble, fall, and may cry, but get right back up and keep running.

The butterfly in that little girl’s hand was once a caterpillar. It squirmed on the ground, on leaves, on trees. But not until it died to itself — essentially becoming a living sacrifice — that it blossomed into its true nature. A butterfly.

I want to die to my fears. My selfishness. My embarrassment. My pride.

And with every new experience, I hope to be mindful of those opportunities to grow. I want to be a like a child, absorbing and contributing fearlessly.

I must take note.

~Lina Marie

 

Will You Grow or Stay Fixed?

Kibosh: put an end to; dispose of decisively

“Lina, you HAVE to read this book. It totally changed my life!”

I was sitting in a friend’s apartment across the street from Howard University listening to her voice frustrations about internal struggles, grueling hours, and glaring shortcomings. Medical school was being a beast and in encouragement, shared a book about the growth vs. fixed mindset I needed to put on my reading list that helped her through her time.

Shortly after returning home, I requested Mindset: The New Psychology of Success by Carol S. Dweck from our local library. The premise of the book compares the growth vs. fixed mindset and why brilliance and abilities are often overstated/overvalued whereas hard work and humility are better indicators of success.

Growing up, school was relatively easy. I enjoyed getting good grades, turning assignments in on time, and learning. I often attributed my success to my “smartness” rather than hard work (which I did lot of), because my intelligence was often the aspect praised, so I began to believe that was the source of my positive outcomes. However, this only supported my perfectionism, so I hardly took risks. Staying in the realm of what I knew prevented me from experimenting and, heaven forbid, making mistakes. I could NOT seem dumb, unknowledgable, or average. And from this sprang my tendency to not contribute dissenting or differing opinions, so my reasoning couldn’t be shredded IMG_20170605_184043apart. Fear is all it was.

Anyway, I start reading Dr. Dweck’s book and saw my old self. Worried about how others viewed me. Risk averse. Lounging in my comfort zone. CEOs, musicians, athletes, and others from all walks of life have never reached their full capacities, ruined companies, and estranged teammates because of the fixed mindset. This is a tragedy.

Today I choose to let go of the fear of making mistakes, looking silly, and not taking risks. Who knows the experiences we miss out on because of our own pride and ego protecting. Life is a work in progress, and it’s through making mistakes, reaching out, and stewarding what we have now that’ll lead to great and unexpected outcomes. We’re not promised comfort and ease. How we react to what’s thrown at us will make all the difference.

~Lina Marie

realIf you are interested in reading Dr. Carol Dweck’s book, Mindset: The New Psychology of Success, check it out on Amazon here! https://www.amazon.com/Mindset-Psychology-Carol-S-Dweck/dp/0345472322/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1496706431&sr=8-1&keywords=mindset+the+new+psychology+of+success+by+carol+dweck

Faith Trumps Fear

Juxtapositional: the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect.

I like to joke and refer to myself as a “tame Type A”. I’ve learned to enjoy surprises, go with the flow, and look forward to spontaneity, but my core enjoys having a plan, being prepared, knowing what’s next. I can take the backseat and let something else make all the decisions (which is nice sometimes, actually), but my friends can tell you I can be pretty assertive and decisive. (I know what I want, dang it!!)

When a dear friend hosted a dinner party several months ago, she had little, glass jars, wrapped with charms and a burlap ribbon placed at each seat at the table. Little did we know she prayerfully placed each jar in front of a seat, beseeching the Lord that each occupant would be matched with the appropriate word to define or encourage their journey.

I got faith.

The crazy thing was, I was led to study the word only a few weeks before as I sensed the Lord desired I come to know more experientially what the word meant.

Anyway, back to “Ms. Tame Type A”, I don’t worry a lot about things or overthink, but I have moments I try to figure out all my finances, habits, social life, schooling, etc. all on my own without praying first or sharing my dissonance. There is no need for me to verbally “throw up” on someone since I can handle it, thank you very much. In theory, the attitude sounds inspirational, strong even. However, I miss out on being vulnerable and involving people in my inner journey. I miss out on being molded by faith and risky ventures. 

The jar has sat on my desk for some time, but only recently have I used it as a coin collector. I thought it apt as each few pennies, though small in number, over time contribute to something larger and more meaningful.

I watched a TedTalk recently about a guy’s quest for meaning and opportunity. He shared it’s important to write down goals to have a visual reminder of what a per

Let Your Faith Be Bigger than your fears

son is striving toward. And you know what? A funny thing happened. He started seeing opportunities in things he hadn’t seen before. (Reticular activation, maybe?) I do work in a place with physical money handled daily, but I started noticing more coins on the ground (don’t worry, I haven’t ever stolen money!) inside and outside the premises. I started noticing the lone coins scattered in different locations and my pocket started making a satisfying little jingle. Haha.

All this to say, although deposited coins in my faith jar is a visual, when you remember that faith should always be bigger than your fears, you start to see the little opportunities for faith building and growing in life. Deposit them in your heart, because little by little the number will grow, the muscle will strength, and you’ll have an ROI you never dreamed of. A penny may look pitiful next to the bold word “Faith”, but wasn’t it little David that slew a big Goliath?

~Lina Marie

Shoe Shenanigans

edited-shoes-on-front-porchDelectation: delight; enjoyment

Although shopping seems like a regular and insignificant part of our lives, they can have a way of teaching us life lessons. Falling in love with a particular pair of shoes taught me about patience and persistence.

It was a regular Saturday afternoon. The weather was starting to warm up as spring was making her appearance. During season changes, I usually assess clothing and shoes I have currently; if there are any missing or desired pieces, I thrift or shop for specific items. My first stop was Goodwill and after I made a few purchases, I perused the shoe section and was immediately magnetized to a pair of champagne pumps. They looked extremely comfortable, but when I tried to squeeze my foot into one of them, they were two sizes too small to my dismay.

The shoes lingered in my mind as I frequented another shoe shop in the area. I walked past the clearance section and had a double take. Those champagne pumps happened to be ON SALE, RIGHT THERE! Excitedly, I looked for my size only to realize the last five pairs were all the same size and all too small. I toyed with the idea of asking a representative if they happened to have any extra, but I didn’t do so. Whatever was out on the clearance rack was probably it.

When I got home later, I searched on Amazon for the same pumps. I didn’t realize there were different colors, but the champagne ones would go better with my color palette. Those particular shoes were the only ones that happened to be out of stock in my size! Not one to settle for disappointment too quickly, I decided to take the chance and buy one size bigger. Depending on the shoe, I can get away with that. I hoped for the best.

My mom texted me at work when the shoes came in the mail. I could hardly wait to get home! I ran through the door, tore open the box, and proudly held up those beloved shoes. I recently bought a cute dress that would go perfectly with the shoes, so with girlish excitement reminiscent of dress-up days, I put both the dress and shoes on and strutted around my room. The thrill was cut short, however, when I realized the pumps kept sliding off my heels. They were too big! I thought of numerous ways to help the shoes stay on comfortably, but thought it was a hassle to do extra work, especially in regard to shoes. Disheartened, I filled out the return sheet, stating the issue and requesting the pumps in my actual size. Hope filled my heart.

While at work, I received a forwarded email from my mom from the shoe company. They stated the returned shoes had been received, but unfortunately, they didn’t have any pumps my size because the line was being discontinued. I hardly EVER fall in love with shoes, but I did was those, so that was a mighty blow. “Maybe God doesn’t want me to have those shoes for some reason,” coursed my thoughts while I drove home from work. Should I keep fighting or forget the whole thing?

I wasn’t able to shake off the focused desire for those champagne beauties, so I visited eBay. They had lots of sellers offering the same line of shoes that were my size but not color. I pressed on and finally found a seller with the ideal size and color. In breathless disbelief, I clicked on the link, ensured there was no bidding option, and bought the shoes on the spot. I checked the confirmation email multiple times like when you pinch yourself to be convinced of an unreal circumstance.

Dramatic, but that’s how I felt.

When those shoes arrived, it was like Cinderella trying on that glass slipper. A perfect and beautiful fit. Out of curiosity, I went to the seller’s page to see if there were any more of those champagne pumps in my size. I put my cursor over the size selection only to realize it was grayed out. I had nabbed the last pair!

No. Way.

It pays to pursue with persistence and not give up right away even for just a pair of shoes.

~Lina Marie