Laura G Owens ~ Writer. Raw. Real. Chronically ambivalent.

Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do, you apologize for the truth. – Benjamin Disrael

Month: December 2022

Public preaching

When street evangelists scream preach I just ignore. But this guy is interrupting people working out.

I saw a viral video years ago of a girl at my daughter’s college in tears because a kid with some Christian group, was screaming that she was a “whore” for the way she dressed.

Certain places on campus allow these sorts of public soap-boxes.

Me personally, I’d just tell the guy he was a bully, and that I’d worn my favorite short-shorts that day, which I believed were not REMOTELY-whorish.

And that I’ve never taken a single dime for sex. So “whore” is not quite accurate. Then I’d tell him he was an asshole, likely in need of getting laid. Then I’d smirk while he turned away from the girl and shamed me instead. Sacrificial lamb and all that.

But this poor girl was genuinely shaken. Slut-shamed on her way to class. Fortunately a few kids spoke up and rallied around her and gave her a hug.

Bullies always lose. Mello Jesus wins.

Does this really work? Bullying people towards God? Seems counterintuitive.

Dude, read the room, no one wants you screaming while they’re working out.

Is this need to YELL the Good News a sickness? I was a Methodist. I know the Good News.

And calling people sinners is a huge no for me.

This being “born” a sinner is weird.

Seriously when was a baby a sinner? In the womb she sucked in too much amniotic fluid?

I’m wildly flawed, but preach “sinner repent!” and we’ll have words. I hate guilt preaching. I makes me want to run away from God. (My God is very LGBTQ friendly, pro-choice and doesn’t support burning in hell for non-believers).

Listen, I don’t go to my gym and preach the word of my Unitarian Universalists while someone jams out on their cross trainer.

The gall of ANYONE to preach ANY religion AT people, astounds me. Which is I why I get giddy when LDS folks come to my door.

They smile, hand me a pamphlet, share the Word. I then kindly and gently (I swear) share my Word (Unitarian Universalist: Nutshell: We don’t care if you’re protestant, Catholic, pagan or an atheist. Just be loving compassionate and open-minded.

My favorite preaching is when religious folks want to tell me about preparing for the “end of times” so that I’m not Left Behind while the sinners burn.

Now THERE’s a super upbeat conversation at my doorstep.

If you want to share Jesus, please quietly hand out pamphlets, invite people to your church, start a blog.

I wish people would stop YELLING God AT people in public places.

Jesus was a gentle peaceful guy. He’s well-known. We’ll find him if we need him.

new years resolutions

New Year Resolutions? Go small. Three things to add to your 2023.

Years ago I swore off making one single day the starting line for when to begin a new habit, or drop an old one.

I figure any day is fine.  But as the new year approaches I can’t help thinking about what I want to do differently. How I want to evolve my mind, body and spirit.

For me, it’s an endless battle to be more patient.

With infuriating customer service, with my husband whose Maryland conversational cadence is slower than my New York vocal marathon.  

I also need to interrupt less. This always enraged my father, and my husband isn’t a fan. He tells me to stop interrupting, I tell him to talk faster. This goes nowhere.

I also need to pare down (a little) of my wine-love. But I’m a hedonist, they’ll be no Dryuary (dry January) in this house.

Another of my goals is to drop two dress sizes.

This means at 57 the simple non-magical formula of eating fewer carbs, less sugar, lots of protein and minimal nighttime snacking. I already work out six days a week but as my daughter reminds me, “abs are made in the kitchen.” I bust my ass at the gym but my waistline doesn’t seem to notice.

I don’t weigh myself. Haven’t for decades. Women’s weight goes up and down with water gain and added muscle (men too). So the scale is an annoying stab in the back. It demotivates me and makes me want to kick the thing across the room.  

Basically if I have to suck in my stomach to squeeze into my jeans, it’s time to lose weight.

For 2023 let me offer a suggestion.  

Don’t make your resolutions big. Go for inches. Small strides. Work out one day a week, then two, then five. Cut out a little sugar, add more veggies and protein. Read more. Don’t make your goals feel impossible by day three.

Three things to add to 2023: Breast health, immune support, healthy boundaries

I’ve been studying what it takes to fix my mind and body for more than 20 years.

After I was misdiagnosed with fibromyalgia, had severe postpartum depression, anxiety and adrenal insufficiency, I took my health into my own hands. As of a Greece trip in 2019, I now have microscopic colitis. I’m working like a dog to get rid of it despite being told it’s autoimmune (Never goes away. Not on my watch. I’m getting rid of it).

My doctor is a holistic MD who preaches prevention and cure rather than just treating symptoms. We’re a team. She listens. She reminds that the body knows how to heal itself with the right help.

  1. I suggest women add breast thermography to their annual breast health plan. Inexpensive, painless, life saving.
  2. I also suggest everyone add Argentyn 23 to help their immune system. It’s a powerful safe antiviral and antibacterial small particle silver. My husband, daughter and I took it constantly during COVID (none of us got COVID). There’s peer-reviewed science behind small particle silver. I can’t sing it’s praises enough.
  3. Set personal boundaries and extricate yourself from toxic people. Mean, shitty people who don’t make you feel good about yourself, or people you don’t trust, don’t deserve your company.

How do you know who’s toxic and who you need to gently leave behind?

Ask yourself how you feel every time you’re around this person. Are they at least trying to get better? Are they self-aware? There’s your answer.

To a joyful, healthy happy 2023.

Three things to make your holiday FEEL better

Holidays make lot of us giddy. The lights, decorations and excited kids drunk on all the magic. I love this time of year.

My daughter is grown but I still run to my front porch and wave to Santa when he comes riding into our neighborhood, sirens flaring (now in a pickup truck vs fire truck. No more candy canes. Even Santa has his budget cuts).  

But holidays send some people into a tricky emotional place. They feel gut wrenchingly sad because they miss a parent or are estranged from loved ones.

This time of year triggers memories of drama-soaked meals where someone was too drunk, too mean or too critical.

Christmas in our house was a big deal.

After my dad’s first wife left when I was five, my father was instantly a single parent with five emotionally shattered kids. Therapy helped but children don’t ever fully recover when their mother takes off.   

Santa does wonders.

My dad made Christmas spectacular. Our 10-foot tree was covered with presents, our stockings were stuffed, dinner was spectacular (my dad was a hobbyist chef and could master any recipe). He’d make beef tenderloin, Yorkshire pudding, and homemade chocolate mousse with hand whipped cream spun with a bit of bourbon.

I don’t remember Christmas as especially sad, angry or dramatic. Although, if you spoiled your appetite or pushed your food around the plate (I dissected every inch of fat off my meat) — you better run. My dad had a big loud temper. Which, managing five kids (three big feral boys) and working full-time, I’d be cranky too.

Whatever the holiday feels like for you it’s guaranteed busy.  

If being a perfectionist gives you peace and joy. Go for it.

I’m reindeer obsessed so I spend hours setting up my indoor decorations exactly right. It’s a high.  Some people feel compelled to master gift-wrap corners (I’ve tried for years. And I still can’t fold a fitted sheet). For others it’s flawless pies and sixteen homemade side dishes. Preparing food is a love language for a lot of people. Too many sides makes me tense just thinking about it.   

If you’re losing it on everyone and stressed, let something go.

What I mean is: willingly “fail.”

Cut out a few sides, ignore the crappy wrapped corners, and God knows ask for help from your kids, your spouse, any willing and able body.

No opposing politics, none, nada, zip

This speaks for itself. Haven’t we learned since 2016 that talking Trump vs Not Trump is useless and disastrous? No one gets any closer. They get mad and farther apart.

So if “that” uncle or cousin even hints at bringing up opposing politics, gently steer them away. If they don’t listen, firmly steer them away. If they’re being obnoxious drunk and belligerent, send them to the TV room.

Make peace with gaining a few — or don’t gain a few

You can go a couple ways here.

Except that you’ll gain a few pounds but lose it later. Or, treat the holidays like any other week. Eat and drink reasonably, indulge here and there, exercise as much possible.

I’d rather not put on a few pounds and have to work it off. At 57, working off a few pounds is exponentially harder than at 25.  The added weight just laughs at me now, “good luck losing it.”

But I’m also not big into self-sacrifice.  I’m a hedonist. For me that looks like fine cheeses, plenty of wine and lemon drop martins and some sea salt dark chocolate. I generally love all salty savory white carbs. Pasta, chips, popcorn by the bowlful.  

Some people prefer to get buzzed on pie and cookies. Do your thing. Decide what’s worth it.  Then let it go.

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