If I were to take a cue from elementary school and make an acrostic name poem (which, when I was in 4th grade, I most likely called “a name poem where each letter of your name is an word to describe you”), it would look like this…
Likes to laugh
Sometimes, I can be more like this…
And if there was an F in my name, it would definitely stand for one thing: frustrated.
Because truth be told, I get frustrated easily. Very easily.
Sometimes, it’s as silly as articles of clothing that fade from one color to another…
Thank you Heidi Montag for reinforcing the cultural stereotype that women must be thin, well-endowed and answer to mercy of men. How can us feminists ever thank you for delaying gender equality one oversized implant at a time?
Perhaps a double D-sized hug?
There is almost nothing that gets me more frustrated than rude people. Yes, please walk by me without saying a word after I’ve asked said, “Hello, how are you?” Or yes, please tell me all about your fantastic, wonderful day when you know I’ve just had a shitty one myself. How’s about forgetting such simple things as “please” and “thank you?” In the words of Bon Qui Qui , rue.
There’s a silent D in there, FYI.
However, my biggest frustration?
I get mad at myself for starting the day off with a balanced, healthy breakfast…
1 cup organic skim milk
3/4 cup frozen raspberries
2 T brown rice protein powder
1 cup baby spinach
sprinkle of unsweetened shredded coconut
1/4 cup Not Sweet Vanilla Galaxy Granola
…as well as an insanely large number of uncontrollable handfuls of peanut M&Ms.
I do. I get frusrated. I get mad. And I let it get to me.
I try to channel that frustration into doing something positive, like giving my body the nutrition it needs via veggies + nooch-ified hummus…
1 cup cooked garbanzos
1 T tahini
1 T minced garlic
2 T olive oil
salt + pepper, to taste
1 T water
1/4 cup nutritional yeast (a.k.a. nooch)
Inevitably, I often just let other extraneous things bring me right back to frustrated. Work, deadlines, people, goals, relationships, time, money, stress…you name it, I’ve been frustrated by it.
As always, that’s when I turn to Mama Everythingtarian.
Even though I know what she is going to say; for some reason, I still need to hear it from her anyways. Her wise words of wisdom are usually phrased something like this…
“Holly, don’t worry about what you can’t control. Figure out what you can control, and fix it.”
Well said Mama, well said.
I can’t control most things. Mother Nature has the weather taken care of; my bosses outline what I need to do and when it should be done; Target controls my bank account; and a higher power (whatever that is you believe in) usually takes care of the rest.
One thing I can control: my reaction to things.
I can cry, vent, yell, scream, get angry and frustrated, but then I need to let it go. According to Mama Everythingtarian, I need to take a cue from Timbaland and just release . Because even though I may be outta control and out of body, frustration gets me nowhere.
Being histrionic, obnoxious, lazy, livid and yappy most likely won’t get me anywhere either – unless it’s perhaps an acrostic name poem competition.
What I need to do is fuel my body the RIGHT way (with a protein pancake sandwich, of course)…
…and control what I can control, which at the moment includes finishing my freelance writing project, paying my bills and taking one, huge, long and DEEP breath.
Then, I need to get my eight hours of sleep and worry about tomorrow, well…tomorrow.