Black Bean Brownies Serves 9-12
1 can 15 ounce black beans, drained
1/2 cup cacao powder
4 tablespoons coconut oil, melted
3/4 cup raw honey
2 teaspoons Stevia
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup gluten-free flour
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 cup water
Blend all ingredients together
Grease 8×8 pan with coconut oil
Bake for 49 minutes at 350 degrees
Allow to cool for 10-15 minutes and Enjoy
Trying to get healthy was not as much a process as a finding my way, and it wasn’t easy. There was a lot of trial and error. I got a bunch of books from the library. Since this was quite a while ago the what to eat page would not be what you would find today, but they gave me ideas.
I must admit I was not a complete beginner. I studied at a place where they discussed good eating. Back then, I decided to go vegetarian and cut back on starchy foods. I allowed myself three or four tablespoons of brown rice or pasta at lunch and dinner and was doing all right.
One morning I woke up with my body screaming for a hamburger. After much thought I decided to give in and went to a local restaurant with a great reputation. I was glad I did. Obviously my body needed something from that burger and it never happened again. I went from a size 12-14 to a size eight. That lasted one year.
I moved to Florida and it started all over again. I knew what to do but the anxiety of being there alone ( I had family but they were busy and there were no friends) and going into a brand new job made me feel deserted. Everything I did before went down the toilet and my weight increased and increased until it was close to one hundred eighty. I had to do something.
There is a picture of me at one of my mother’s parties and I when I saw it, I couldn’t believe how heavy I was. How much fat made the dress so tight that it creased all over and I almost couldn’t breathe. I went back to my original plan. This time I changed only one thing a month and started losing weight. Seeing the scale move down gave me the lift I needed to keep going.
I learned that I had to eat lots of vegetables to satisfy my hunger. That every time I had too much pizza or bread or pasta I gained back a few pounds. I lost ten pounds a year until I was down to one hundred forty. At a much slower rate I lost more and am now a happy one hundred twenty-five pounds. It feels like this is where I should have been all my life.
Happy because I feel like I’m in the right body. Have energy. Feel well. It’s not the number on the scale but the knowledge that both my body and I feel like we belong where we are. If you are having problems with food let me know. Eating Disorders was my specialty.
From the time I was young I loved sweets. It continued until I was in my fifties. I had bulimia and didn’t know it. If you don’t know what that is, it’s the process of overeating and then getting rid of the food. There are a number of ways to do that. Some go on the treadmill or run for hours and hour, usually at home so no one will see. Others use laxatives. That was my choice.
On top of that I had hypoglycemia and didn’t know it. That is the opposite of diabetes – low blood sugar. Much easier to handle than diabetes but you still have to work at eating the right foods. The nurse where I worked did a five hour glucose tolerance test. She gave me a something to drink and I laid on the table while they took blood every five hours. It was excruciating. It came from eating sweets.
The problem started after my brother was born and I had to baby-sit him. I baked and ate almost a whole cake every time my parents left for whatever they were doing that evening. My mother couldn’t understand why I was gaining weight and I wasn’t going to tell her. I lost weight before I went to college but was up twenty pounds and down twenty pounds for years.
I’m jumping a large number of years to when I moved to Florida and things began to change. Not right at the beginning but soon after, though I did become a vegetarian the day I set my foot on Florida soil.
I found out I was allergic to certain foods. I pared down what I ate, but how far can you go? I had to have something to eat and began to feel deprived. My menu depended on bread, pasta, pizza – you’ve got the picture. My weight soared to close to one hundred and eighty pounds.
I had to change my lifestyle. I’ll try to tell you the process for recovery I used in my next post. Try because it’s not easy to go through or talk about and took a long time.
A lot of people have food issues. Do you? Let me know, maybe I can help.
I went through some ancient papers and came across this. Check out the emotion behind it not the writing.
What is the worth of a woman
how many horses or cows
Sell her to improve the family status
After all she is only a woman
What is the worth of a woman
If she is not there who will they rape
Who will they pillage and plunder
Who will they turn into whores?
Please tell me your reaction, this was my first real writing. Thanks
I woke up this morning knowing I wanted to write a post and having no idea of what to say. I seemed tapped out – at least for the moment. Then I remembered my father saying, “you babble on and on,” when I was little and my mother said, “you opened your mouth and haven’t shut up since.”
There are many times I am sure there were times when someone said something derogatory or hurtful, or told me what or how I should do or act and were just plain wrong. How much of my inability to speak up comes from what I heard as a child – the message being Shut Up – what you have to say is not important, you are not important.
I certainly spoke up when I got to school and was punished for it. I was sent to the principal’s office. My mother had to come to school and she was not happy. When I got older I didn’t know why, but my voice disappeared. Words crossed my mind. Words I knew were right for that moment, but they were words I could not say, thought I knew the answer. I no longer raised my hand when the teacher asked for feedback or information. It was like something in me was turned off. I was afraid.
Would I appear stupid? My parents said I was when I was little so I believed it. Would my answer be ridiculous? Or would I get tongue tied and seem like a fool? I even practiced what to say in my head and still couldn’t do it. Even if I was determined to speak I would wait too long and someone else would answer before I could get up enough courage. Or worst of all, would I be ignored, a living ghost that is there and afraid to say anything?
When I was studying for my PhD I read many articles about this problem. Experiments were done that proved teachers called on males most often. Females were ignored leaving them feeling inadequate. Thankfully that has changed, at least that’s what I’m told.
There are other reasons people don’t speak up. Perhaps it’s thinking there is nothing else to be said on that topic. However, most people will finally admit it is fear. If it is business it can be fear of being fired. If we can be honest that is not the truth. It is fear of saying the wrong thing and getting punished in some way, even ostracized. Some believe that those who are in a ‘higher’ social position know better than you. Therefore it might be dangerous to speak against them. They went to a better school so they have to be smarter. A study was done that when analyzed showed that some people “become dumb” when in a group with those they think are smarter than they are. How can anyone put a relationship in jeopardy when it might mean losing the person or the job.
I remember being in kindergarten and first grade and hating it because we had to sit still and listen. The teacher spoke and we had to be good and wait to be called on. Between my parents and school I gave up. I was too little to fight them and didn’t want to go to the principal’s office again because my mother would be mad at me.
I got married and couldn’t speak up. I watched my parents closely as children do. In those days men were the ones who worked and brought home the money. Women stayed home and obeyed. Certainly that was more prevalent in my parent’s relationship but I had lived with it and it seeped into my being. I was petrified when I asked my husband if I could try out for a scholarship. I would never do that today, but I had learned well.
Our fears are based on the fear of rejection, of losing those we love or need. Studies have been done that show that the brain shows rejection in the same place as physical pain and rejection is the most feared thing that can happen to a human.
Not everyone is fearful. I think back to the boys who answered in school and others who spoke out. More people speak up now, especially women, who didn’t so many years ago.
As a singer I know how important voice is. Every turn of phrase, every nuance is heard and digested. A softer tone says something different from a loud one. Like here on these pages where we do not capitalize every letter because it means shouting. Your voice shows joy, passion, beliefs, opinions and more. It says who we are. Be as happy as this young girl.
Do you knowingly or unknowingly play the victim? Stay quiet when you should speak up. Even with parents, friends, or work colleagues? Or in retrospect years later when you want to kick yourself. How many times do we say “I wish I had—” said or done this or that.
The problem is that when you think of yourself as a victim, you become one. Why is that important? It leads to destructive self beliefs. Everyone is smarter than I am so I’d better let them make the decisions. I’ll do what they say – they know what I should do, they’re better than me. If I depend on them I can relax and not think about anything.
In other words you give up and allow others to take control of your life. It may seem like the best thing to do . You are off the hook for everything. But is it?
You shrink, get smaller instead of growing, preventing any chance for you to develop and recognize your own wants and needs. You allow other to choose. You – give – up.
If you remain a victim you will never take control of your fate or any success you might have because it all belongs to them. Like a child others are in charge of your life.
We are responsible for ourselves – no one else is.
Turn it around and choose to find happiness.
I introduced you to Star a while ago. If you missed it hop over to my site. She is a rescue dog from the Humane Society. My son was with me when we went to see her. She was overly excited to be with humans again and not on a leash. She jumped all over , kissed us, and jumped all over us again.It didn’t matter what she did. She was brought in on my birthday and I decided she was mine.
We filled out the paper work and put her in the back seat. She was quiet all the way home. I took her into the house and took off her leash. My grand kids were there. Star went to the back of the living room near the sliding back door to the patio. She would not sit. I went to get some water and I hear loud yelling. Look at what she did! Then they all laughed.
I ran back to find she pooped all over my rug. And I mean all over. The kids just sat there as I cleaned pile after pile and threw it in the toilet. When I finally sat down all I could think was what did I do? Did I make a big mistake?
I was to find out that she has a delicate stomach. The vet gave her two antibiotic shots and it never happened again. Did I just make a mistake by saying that? Okay, go ahead laugh.
Just to let you know she is the best – sweet, gentle, loving – and one of the best things that happened to me. If you were taken away from where you were, thrown in a strange car with strange people, then taken into a strange house you might need to poop too.
If you are not moving steadily in the direction of what you say you want, you can be certain that you are sabotaging yourself somewhere.
As we come to understand the mechanisms and patterns that underlie self-sabotage, we begin to free ourselves…we begin to allow ourselves to interact with ourselves and the world with greater success, joy, and fulfillment.
The process of breaking through denial, facing your fear, anger, and other difficult emotions, and making peace with your pain, leads to an ending of the internal war with yourself so that you can step fully into the greatest expression of yourself.
Finding the wisdom inside the wounds you’ve endured is one of the most important conversations you’ll ever have with yourself, because on the other side of it is the emotional freedom and depth of joy that you were born to have.
“I can’t believe it. I can’t find it anywhere.”
“Where did you put it?” my friend Georgia asked.
“That’s it, I can’t remember. I hid it so well when I went to Africa, I’ve no idea where.”
‘The it is a ring’, not an expensive one, but one that for some reason had meaning for me. It was purchased for me by a man I was dating. We were walking down a street in lower New York City when I spotted something I had never seen before.
“Look at that. That guy is selling something on the street and it’s not food. Let’s go take a look.”
“Do you want it?” Larry asked. Do I dare? I don’t know him that well. I have to.
A magnet pulled me into the gutter and across the street. A ring, one amongst many, attracted me to it. The only thing I could see was the mosaic it was made with. Not fine mosaic you might find in Italy, but rough. All blue and white, with a pink rose in the center, I fell in love with it.
When the vendor removed it from its place in the black velvet case for me to try on, I was puzzled by the large and ugly shank.
“Look at this,” I whispered, “it’s big enough for an elephant’s toe. It’s ugly.
“Don’t worry about that,” Larry said, “I’ll take care of it. “Do you like it?”
With a nod of my head, he bought it for me and had a gold wedding band soldered on by a jeweler. That was thirty-five years ago, I treasured the ring and wore it daily. It was different and brought many compliments throughout the years. Now I was without it and my finger felt strangely empty, missing its long-time companion.
Six months ago and three years after hiding it, I was rummaging around in a box of stuff in the garage. I come upon a plastic bag. I open the bag to find ornamental rocks I put in the garden to brighten it. Something made me rummage around in the bag and there it was, my ring. I slip it on the finger that has been waiting so long and my heart drops. It’s ruined. All of the center stones have disintegrated into the dust. I could taste my disappointment and removed it from my finger. It goes into a special place it in a drawer. Years later I still couldn’t make myself throw it out.
BUT I WILL TODAY. RIGHT NOW. DONE