QUITTERS: How Quitting Saved My Life.

Danielle & her dog Sharpie, working their stuff CIC-style.

Try harder.

Do better. Pick yourself up by your bootstraps. Failing at school? A relationship? A job? A sport? You can do it, just try harder. Well guess what, guys: Sometimes you shouldn't try harder. Sometimes you should quit. And for the record, quitting is often much harder than trying harder.

Last month, I quit an awesome job to focus on what I really, truly wanted. Quitting was so, so hard, especially since I had to tell other people I was quitting. However, I am three weeks into self-employment and I could not be happier. Sometimes, quitting is the right thing to do.

This week I am launching an interview series creatively named Quitters. 

It's all about people who've quit & are better for it. I'm kicking it off with my amazing friend Danielle, who got sober nearly four years ago. We talk addiction, community and the organization she founded, Canine Inspired Change. She's so brave for putting it all out there. Here's how quitting saved her life.

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What did you quit & why?

Let's see.....um well, here we go: alcohol, prescriptions drugs, cigarettes, diet soda and self-delusion.

What did your life feel like before you quit?

Unmanageable, sad, crazy, isolated. It was all around crap-tastic.

Can you explain a little about what your daily routine was prior to getting sober? What were you "needing" to get through the day? 

I needed a copious assortment of prescription pills (mostly opiates) to get through the day, every day, from the moment I opened my eyes-- in increasing amounts. Alcohol was always present, but it took a backseat to the opiates.

What ultimately made you quit?

I felt so sick all the time. I didn't want to live, yet I wasn't ready to die. One morning I woke up and thought, That's it, I'm done. I really don't know why this morning was any different than all the others. Well, I kind of do, so I'm just going to say it: a divine force greater than myself. Great Spirit, God, Buddha, Divine Love, whatever you want to call it, it's all the same to me, intervened. I had a spiritual awakening.

Was there a specific moment, a constant internal nagging or something else?

I had been seeking, seeking, seeking....Ekhart Tolle, Deepak Chopra, Oprah (ha!), The Secret. I read all the books, watched all the videos. I intellectually got it, but deep down I just couldn't feel anything. I thought something was fundamentally wrong with me. I thought I was broken. One day I woke up so physically and emotionally sick I was finally willing to do the unimaginable: ask for help and start telling the truth (gulp).

I reached out to a doctor and told the brutal truth to my friends and family: I am in trouble and I need help. 

The hardest part about quitting?

Honesty and humility. I didn't want anyone to know what a mess I was. I wanted to get well all by myself and then just be fabulous. Well momma, it don't work like that, okay? At least not for me. I needed to let people in and connect. When I did, WOW my world got bigger. The right people showed up at the right time, the money came in, the doors opened. My first year sober, I walked around in a pink cloud of wonder and magic.

Quitting can be emotionally taxing. Who or what helped you cope? 

My dogs, my higher power, my husband (maybe I should have put him before the dogs, but it's okay, he gets it) my life's work or purpose (Canine Inspired Change), yoga (prayer and meditation) and other women who had been through what I was going through.

Danielle and her four-legged Buddhas.

Was quitting scary for you? 

Ummmmm, YES! I didn't want to look within myself or be vulnerable and I really, really didn't want to feel physically uncomfortable (read: sick as hell at first). I wanted to change, but I didn't want to make any changes. It sounds crazy now, but the thing is, in order to change......drumroll........ you have to change. You have to embrace the unknown and be willing to be scared and uncomfortable. In the words of a wise mentor, when I told her I was afraid to do something, she said with a smile, "That's ok girl, do it scared."

How did you feel immediately after you quit?

RELIEF, fear, relief, hope, fear, relief, hope, love of self, connection, fear. I mean, I'm a little afraid of being so open here but....screw it. I'm just me, this is my story and the transparency brings transcendence from the pain. It clears away the wreckage of my past and allows me to get outside of myself and focus on helping others, which is when I'm truly happiest. Make me a channel of thy peace, that's kind of what it's all about. St. Francis knew it way back then, nothing fancy: if you're feeling like shit, do something nice for somebody and guaranteed you'll feel better. Period. 

How has quitting changed your life? 

Quitting saved my life. 

You attribute your dogs and the non-profit you founded, Canine Inspired Change (CIC), to helping you get well. Tell me about that. 

My dogs and my non-profit, Canine Inspired Change, were a huge motivation to get well. I couldn't love myself yet, but I did love them more than I hated myself. My dogs were an integral part of my healing - they energetically injected courage, strength and love into my actual being. I don't know how else to say this....that's how it felt. 

A little more about CIC: We're a non-profit that partners with therapy dogs and their people to bring healing, connection and love into our community. We bring therapy teams into schools to work with kids that have emotional behavior disorders or have been through a trauma and are living in foster care. 

Notes from students enrolled in CIC therapy programs. 

"Thanks for giving us the chance that no one else in the school has." 

What's been the most rewarding aspect of CIC? 

It gives me a higher purpose and self worth. It gets me outside of my head and gives me a vehicle for service and community connection. Isolation destroys the spirit; connection brings about miracles, it really does. 

Why do animals help us heal? 

That's so hard to put into words. They don't judge or hold a grudge or talk all sassy, their default is loving kindness and acceptance. They are little walking furry four-legged Buddhas or Jesus'. Many of us are wary of humans due to past trauma or just repeated exposure to assholes. Animals allow us to practice loving kindness without fear of blowback. They tap into the higher heart, the place of pure all encompassing love. 

Advice to someone who’s thinking of quitting?

Tell someone, ask for help, reach out to me and I will do anything in my power to help. Really. When you open yourself to receive help, help will come. Turns out transformation happens through vulnerability. Ain't that a bitch! 

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If you're a pet person, you know how amazing a dog's adoration can be. They greet you with a wagging tail, even if you didn't give them your extra bacon at breakfast; they love nothing more than snuggling with you on the couch; they comfort you after a bad day.

Danielle and her CIC team just received their official non-profit status. Please help support their cause by making a donation to Canine Inspired Change. Anything helps! 

PS If you want to share your quitting story, email me at heyeleanorproject@gmail.com.

Why Buying a Good Bra Matters.

That's a lotta over the shoulder boulder holders. 

Remember when Oprah revealed that we're all wearing the wrong bra size?
 

I do.

Like many of you, I filed that one under "good to know, will look into...eventually." Here I am, probably a decade later, still wearing the size I think I should wear.

I've had my rack measured a few times before, but it was at Victoria's Secret and I wasn't super confident that they'd done it right. The last time I went to VS, I decided to get a bra fitting. I'd always been a 34B, but Megan (a 22-year-old VS associate that smelled of vanilla), was certain I was a full 32C or more likely, a 32D. This sounded suspect to me. Those two sizes are reserved for the Jayne Mansfields of the world. That can't be me. Regardless, one of these larger cup-sized bras looked and felt nice, so I got one. 

I liked my new bra, but within a week, it gapped in the boob area.

I knew I should've listened to my inner voice! Instead of demanding my money back, I decided to visit a real bra store... you know, the ones you're afraid to go to because the bras will be amazing, but they're going to cost a fortune! 

I made an appointment at La Bratique in Edina (Minnesota), conveniently located a few miles from my office. Unlike VS, their ratio of employee to customer is basically 1::1.

When I arrived, my personal bra professional lead me to a changing room, where she measured the girls and informed me that I was a 32D. Guess Megan at VS knew what she was talking about after all!

However, as my bra professional pointed out, VS uses cheaper materials and often firmer cups, which allow their bras to "fit" more people. Really, you're just pouring your boob into a form that sorta-kinda holds you in. She then selected about a dozen bras in my "new" size in a variety of colors, materials and styles. 

Each option was significantly different. Some offered too much coverage and made me feel like an old lady. Others made my boobs look like torpedoes... in a bad way:

Oh my... way too pointy! | Why Buying a Good Bra Matters. 

Eventually, I found three bras (a black, beige and a fun hot pink number) that did all the right things for my chest. Lifted, separated, contained...without the weird gapping of my previous bras. I was also talked into a sports bra (apparently if you're over the C mark, you should wear sports bras with an underwire. Who knew?!). Very happy with that purchase, too.  

Just right. | Why Buying a Good Bra Matters. 

And here's the kicker: They weren't that expensive!

All of these bras fit 100 percent better than the ones from Victoria's Secret and cost less about $60 apiece, just slightly more than their mass produced, ill-fitting counterparts. If I care for the bras properly (wash them every three wears, not wear the same one a few days in a row, avoid smashing the cups when I put them in my drawer), they should easily last me a year or so. 

I'm quite pleased with my purchases. Any one else had an epiphany experience buying proper undergarments (or any other clothing product... I the first time I bought "nice" jeans and had to tailor them was a revelation for me, too.)? Please share!

#149. Answering Trivia at Caribou Coffee.

TEN WHOLE CENTS?! That's like a dime... or two nickels!

Caribou is to Minnesota what Starbucks is New York (or what Amish furniture stores are to Pennsylvania). They're frickin' everywhere. 

I've probably stopped at a Caribou once a week for the last seven years. I like Caribou for three specific reasons:

1. They've outfitted all the locales in a comfy lodge motif.

2. They call their drinks by regular size names (small, medium, large) that don't make you feel like a douchebag when you utter them aloud. Come on, a grown-ass adult should not be enforced to order anything grande except maybe a taco.

3. Their coffee doesn't consistently taste like burnt toast.

Another one of their "things" that I've silently enjoyed is their daily trivia question. In essence, an employee writes a trivia question on a blackboard in a neon marker. Typically, there is some rudimentary art involved. If a patron guesses the correct answer, they get... drumroll.... ten cents off their coffee! 

I always read the trivia question but have NEVER answered, even if I'm 100 percent certain.

I like the trivia thing, but there are a few reasons why I don't speak up. First of all, when do you say the answer? "I'll take a medium dark roast with room and... Kevin Costner in Dances with Wolves?" I don't know, it seems silly to interject that info on top of a coffee order you hope the barista won't forget. 

Also, I think there is something really yucky about people stating their correct trivia answer all smug-like. Ew, it's just for ten cents off your coffee. Relax, hotshot. I do not want to be that person.

Lastly, what if I answer the question wrong and look like a fool?! Will the people behind me in line think I'm an idiot? Will the guy ringing me up think to himself, "I can't believe she thought the answer was Deep Space Nine. Clearly, it's The Next Generation. What a dummy."

Ten cents off my coffee is no bargain when all of this is at stake. It's easier to just pretend I didn't see the trivia question and move it along. Yeah, I know... I coulda saved like twenty bucks over the years, but my good name is worth it. 

However, I finally spoke up when I saw this question:

"This famous chef/author was also the host of the TV show No Reservations."

Anthony Bourdain, obviously. Ah, what the hell. I tacked on my answer to the end of my order (and tried to not say it too smugly). The barista barely noted my correct answer, though my coffee cost $2.04 instead of $2.14, so he must've heard me.

The whole thing was really anticlimactic. 

#146. What It's Like to Do the Polar Bear Plunge.

Guess which one of us was regretting signing up for the Polar Bear Plunge?

Preference: marathon or polar bear plunge?

In January, I would've definitely said my preference = plunge. 10 seconds of pain versus four hours? Duh. However, after completing my first polar bear plunge, running a marathon doesn't really sound so terrible. 

I wasn't excited for the polar plunge.

At all.

This is the coldest Minnesota winter of my life. I can barely walk from my front door to my car without wanting to throw in the towel. The idea of jumping into a freezing cold lake on a five degree day (oh, and a windchill of -19, no biggie) made me want to cry. However, my beyonce, Josh, signed both of us up for his company's huge Polar Bear Plunge team. Between the two of us, we'd raised a few hundred bucks (all proceeds went to the Special Olympics).

My hands were tied. I was jumping. 

I felt some comfort in the fact that our frozen jump into White Bear Lake was going to be quick. Organizers basically cut a big hole in the ice, then plungers (who are required to wear some sort of foot protection... I wore old sneakers) jump into the lake. Fully clothed, possibly in a costume, or if you're nuts, a swim suit (not recommended). You exit the swimming hole via metal stairs in the water.

This sounded awful, but way better than what our plunge friends in Chicago had to do: run into Lake Michigan from the beach, then back out again. That sounds agonizing! Or at least it sounded agonizing until I heard that Chicago cancelled their event that day due to frigid temperatures.

Pussies.

The anticipation was far worse then the jump.

Between registration (which was at a hotel a few miles from the lake), taking a school bus to the plunge site, finding our group, changing into our jumping gear and waiting for our group to be called was 90 minutes, but felt like an eternity. This waiting around stuff (which was mostly outside!) gave me all sorts of time to imagine my heart stopping once my body hit the water. That's something I've heard happens when people who shock their system, right?

Urban legend or not, it freaked me out. 

Watch the action unfold in the below video.

From queueing up at the hole in the ice to running back into the sort of heated tent, where I ripped off my wet clothes faster than you can say hypothermia, the actual ordeal took less than a minute.

Did I mentioned I got dry humped by a very drunk woman in the changing area? Well, I did and so did eight or nine other ladies. Many people were drunk. Can you blame them?

We made it!

I've had a few week's space from the plunge and oddly enough, I would probably do the plunge again. I think my enthusiasm may have been inspired by these wings at Beartown. We mowed down a huge plate post-plunge.

Trust me, Josh and I earned every bite.  

Apres plunge at Beartown in White Bear Lake... recommended.

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PS Other physical challenges I've done since starting Hey Eleanor? I jumped out of an airplane, and once went SCUBA diving. Both were way more fun than I'd expected. 

How to Host a Midwestern Fish Fry

Erica wins the Hey Eleanor potluck award for simply asking a Kowalski's employee to help her find Cheez Whiz. Clearly, a success!

When a gal goes ice fishing (and scores big time), there's only one thing left to do:

Get fryin'.

Hence, I hosted my first-ever Friday Fish Fry... the first fish fry I've experienced outside of a church basement and/or Wisconsin dive bar. 

What's a fish fry without friends?

Nothing, I tell ya. I extended the invited to a handful of ladies who I love dearly for their witty banter and, most importantly, their ability to fully commit to a themed dinner party. This theme = Midwestern potluck food.

Bonus points if you can't pronounce the ingredients on the can you dumped into your hot dish vessel.

Yes, cans. 

Farm to table!

Cheese ball, pickled beets, tartar sauce, mac-n-cheese... and TUMS for dessert.

Since my pals had the sides covered, my biggest challenge was learning how to fry fish.

It seemed fairly simple.

I'd just never done it before. Plus, I worried about my entire house stinking like fish and fry for days. Not to mention, getting burned by hot oil. Signs you're not from the south: You're afraid of frying things. 

I decided to sort of, kind of copy the method for this crispy fish taco recipe from Food & Wine. I mean, except for the part where you take the fried fish and make a taco with it. I just focused on the fried fish aspect. Simply dip the fish in a flour/salt/pepper/spices mixture, then dunk in a beaten egg, then roll around in panko. Carefully lay them into your hot oil and boom.

Look how they turned out:

The freshest fish in the land. 

Pretty good for my first time, eh?

They tasted amazing AND my house didn't even smell. My hair on the other hand stunk to high heaven.

But who cares, last time I checked fish fries aren't about good smellin' hair. They're about pigging out, drinking Miller Lite tallboys and eating summer sausage. Is this not the biggest summer sausage you've ever seen? Yes, go ahead & make all those dirty jokes that are running through your head. I know you're thinking it. 

Double fisting it, Wisconsin style. 

* * *

In case you're wondering, here's where I caught these fish and here's a video of me eating a minnow. You're welcome.

#137. Speak at a Lean In Super Circle.

If you are a woman, you should read this book. If you are a man, you should also read this book. Image: LeanIn.org

Can I just tell you how much I am loving my life right now? Not only have I checked off a lot of bucket list items in the past few months, but I've met so many amazing people. Example: Erika, Linda & Liz -- three ladies who run Twin Cities-based Lean In circles. I met them at my TEDx talk and they are amazing people. If you aren't familiar with what a Lean In circle is all about, it's basically a way for women to get together to discuss the challenges they face at work, at home, in life. It's not just a book for women. Actually, I think men could learn a lot from this short-ish, informative book. Really. 

Anyhow, they try to  get the Minnesota circles together for a super circle once a month for food and conversation. In January, their theme was "Show Your Strength - We Dare You!" and asked me to come and share my Hey Eleanor story. I said I'd be delighted. You know what? I was so much less scared this time around! I could still use some guidance with my public speaking skills, but I think I've vastly improved since the first time I spoke at Studio/e and at the TEDx talk just by becoming more comfortable. FOR THE WIN!

I didn't know what to expect at the event-- I'd heard that there could be anywhere from 10 to 100+ women attending. When the night rolled around, it was something like -10 degrees outside, which kept attendance at about 20 ladies. I was a-okay with that! It really took the pressure off and allowed me to talk to everyone there (all while stuffing my face with hummus).

First, we did an ice breaker where everyone shared their own fears, which only goes to show that "fear" is totally subjective. One woman commented that in some ways, she fears success because it might create resentment amongst her colleagues (interesting, and a completely legitimate fear), another woman cited fear of rejection. Another person claimed they're afraid of cotton balls... which, as someone who can't touch any sort of foam without getting the willies, I can sympathize. And then we circled up and I took the stage (or, more accurately, I took a seat at the head of the table, Power Point presentation ready to go).

I always find the first few minutes of talking to be a little painful-- I'm fairly certain my face gets flush and I know my heart races. But then I started thinking of this room of women being more like my girl friends and it got a whole lot easier. Once I buzzed through my presentation, I fielded some questions, which was really weird! I've never really had an opportunity to talk about myself in public like that... as a general rule, we midwesterners are brought up to be humble and not brag or boast too much. I wasn't bragging nor boasting, but regardless, it was surprisingly more uncomfortable than I had imagined. They asked lots of good questions, some of which were challenging to answer in the moment. 

We ended the super circle with everyone else sharing their own stories of times they've pushed through their fears & stumbled upon greatness (one women mentioned that she'd signed up for a painting class after "just thinking about it" for years, literally). And huge props to Calley Bliss, who sang and played a song she wrote on some sort of piano/accordion hybrid (I don't know if I could ever do that... guess I will have to try sometime, but should probably learn how to play an instrument first). 

Thanks for the opportunity to lean into my fear of public speaking, ladies! Practice is making it much less scary.