There was an earthquake alert here in California Wednesday morning.
Like an Amber alert, my phone started uncontrollably buzzing with a siren alarm, shaking and screaming its head off.
I was in the middle of making a protein-forward breakfast. I’m trying to get my body, who no longer has an estrogen shield protecting it from normal life, to get the hint that we are not living in a famine, things are not that bad. I’m hopeful this body of mine will respond by lowering cortisol and letting go of the extra fat that it thinks will save me from starving during a long, cold winter.
I’m not a nutritionist and this is not medical advice. This is my new experiment in feeling good.
It’s summer. When the phone alert went off, I had just gotten back from walking to the tippy top of the hill where the water tower is. And, even though my legs felt exhausted at the first incline, I survived the journey and was still able to stand at the stove to cook two eggs with added egg whites (because three eggs just feels ridiculous), spinach, and manchego cheese. The espresso machine was midway through making an Americano and I was convincing myself not to drink the beloved cup of coffee on an empty stomach. Gut, there’s nothing to panic about, just relax, I will eat the eggs with avocado first to protect you.
It was mid-Americano, I was still listening to a podcast from my walk, when the earthquake alert drowned out the voice of former D1 tennis champ turned comedian Hannah Berner.
Assuming it was an Amber alert, is the kidnapped person close by?, I quickly exhumed my buzzing phone from the lululemon running (okay, walking) belt around my waist as my eggs sizzled on the stove:
I grew up in California. I’ve been doing earthquake drills crouched under my desk since first grade. But at 8am with coffee almost ready and eggs needing to flip, I misread the above warning as Stop Drop and Roll, mixing up my disaster protocols, and concluded:
“I’m not doing that right now.”
And then a second alert came:
I hesitated, really wanting that Americano, when my groggy daughter emerged, her phone in hand.
“I’m getting an earthquake alert. It’s not even close to us.”
“I haven’t felt any shaking. I think we’re okay.”
The needle on the richter scale went wild somewhere in California on Wednesday. I later learned that it was also intense in Japan and had devastating effects in Venezuela. My heart goes out to those who are dealing with the aftermath and damage. The same alert can mean a very different morning depending on where you are.
Other needles I’ve been focused on feel stuck.
I’m finding the stillness difficult.
I like action. Admittedly, maybe even if the action is a little scary or stressful. Um hello, cortisol levels, I hear where you’re coming from in that last sentence.
I like movement, but not the destructive kind. Despite my current discomfort with the needle feeling stuck, I also am someone who likes quiet space to think and create, to reflect and just be. Even though a part of me wants the needle to get a move on, another part knows that the alert is worth listening to—drop, cover, hold on—believe something good will come.
P.S. My therapist pulled an oracle card for me at the end of our conversation today. It was “Stillness.” I'm taking the hint.
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It was not a great way to start the morning. I was making my coffee and evaluating the best place to run and cover when the house started shaking. But ended up drinking it peacefully with no rattling.
The stress of the earthquake alert on Wednesday morning — it was like an extra shot of espresso in an Americano leaving me with extra jitters.