2 YEARS SUGAR FREE (A twist on “one year, no beer”) This month marks 2 years no sugar for me I’ve had numerous substitutes for beer since I gave it up in 1999 at 22 years old. Sugar The sugar game has been a much longer and more painful one to play, but I’m so grateful to say that it has been 2 years now that I have not indulged in any candy I acknowledge myself I will not buy that bag of chips or cookies. Those things are like beer Most days, I live in a position of neutrali

I have short hair. It’s by default. Because it’s thin, fine, and wispy and grows at a snail’s pace I have yearned for long hair since I was 11 years old and ogled my classmate Kathleen’s long thick locks. I imagined myself wearing a wig – it was the only way I could see myself having the experience of long hair. I got a perm at that age to try and help solve this hair dilemma. But the stylist left me under the heat too long. I emerged from the salon with a fried and frizzy me

I changed my hair for you. I started growing it out, and I quit dying it funky colors 👩‍🎤 because you didn’t like it short and pink. I got a manicure topped off with gold gel nail polish💅 to be more feminine, to try and please you. I quit ordering ethnic food because you said it smelled bad. I started wearing a bra. I stopped using eyeliner underneath my eyes.👁 I became quieter in the bedroom. I quit saying I love you because you never said it first. I stifled my laughter

My hair is short. I don’t shampoo it. I don’t always wear a bra. I usually keep my nails cut short. I like wearing black eyeliner. I will spend a lot of money on good shoes and jackets. I get Botox sometimes. I’ve thought about getting some form of plastic surgery but haven’t. I don’t eat sugar. I like Indian food and Mexican food. I used to overeat and have an unhealthy relationship with food. Now I’m noticing old patterns in this area returning. I love driving my motorbike

I want to share something about myself you may or may not know: I am a recovered alcoholic and drug addict. And I have 2 sobriety dates. Why? February 1, 1999, is the day I came back to AA and I have been clean and sober since then. I have not recreationally used alcohol, marijuana, meth, benzos, opiates, cocaine, crack, psychedelics, inhalants, etc. (I have used and abused all of the above, by the way.) 2 years ago today, I had a spiritual experience while studying the AA Bi

Even though I’m older now. Almost 46. I’m still beautiful- Even if I don’t get the same external validation I did in my youth. I’m still beautiful- Even as my skin suit wrinkles, sags, and folds. I’m still beautiful- And I get to learn that if I want to hear it, I get to tell it to myself. I’m still beautiful- Even if I start to believe what others might say to the contrary. I’m still beautiful- In my tender humanness, with all my faults, frailties, and fuckups. I’m still bea

For Valentine’s, I blocked him 🚫 And in doing so, I chose myself👩‍❤️‍👩 I blocked him- not out of spite or malice- but out of protection of my own heart💓 Because by continuing a toxic connection, I was in essence blocking myself. Every time I compromised, every time I allowed, made a concession, justified or rationalized contact or connection, I abandoned myself😰 So I blocked him. No more doors left cracked open giving false hope that somehow, someday, something will chan

I got pregnant on New Years Eve, 1998. I was drunk. I still remember cheering NINETEEN NINETY-NINE like a madwoman outside the bar as fireworks went off at midnight. My full bladder didn’t like all the jumping and screaming, so I made the drunken decision to keep celebrating and empty my bladder at the same time. I brought in the new year with soggy pants and piss-filled shoes, and continued the party later on by getting accidentally pregnant in the first hours of the new yea

Four days before Christmas 2020, my job of almost 13 years gave me shocking news: that if I did not move back to the US from overseas where I’d been working and living for 8 years, that I would no longer have a job I considered the proposal for about 10 seconds. Everything in me screamed NO at the possibility. It’d be the rational thing to do, yes, but it would be selling my soul to play it safe. I knew I could not do it. I got off the work call and burst into tears. It felt

HOPE IS HERE. Prayers do get answered. If you need hope that you can recover – please read my “Diary of a Dry Drunk” below, written in 2008 at almost 10 years sober. It is sad and unsettling for me to read how I was suffering and in self-pity that I couldn’t see. I was living in the spiritual malady surrounded by the solution, but unable to access it in a meaningful way. If you know me, follow me, read my posts, the difference then and now is as stark as someone’s before and

Lately I’ve been talking with people about their primary addiction – the one that precedes alcohol or drugs. Of course, in my work with helping people overcome sugar and food addiction, I have heard many say food is primary. But it wasn’t food for me. It was boys. At five years old, I was called “Kissy-Girl” at school because I chased the boys on the playground during recess and would catch and kiss them. I’d create monster fantasy crushes in my mind with boys I had sometimes

1 YEAR NO SUGAR, 20 YEARS NO CIGARETTES This month marks 20 years no smokes, and 1 year no sugar for me🤩 My foto was taken last weekend and shows how I feel living in freedom🎉 I’ve had numerous substitutes for beer since I gave it up in 1999 at 22 years old. Cigarettes, though they didn’t give me the delicious hug that alcohol delivered, still gave me a hit of ease and comfort that I needed to get through my day. Sugar, chips, crackers, along with all things binge-y and sna

6 months ago I met a guy from Tinder who gave me some back-handed compliments about my looks and my age. (See Tinder Part 1 here – https://nataliemspeakman.com/2021/07/29/tinder-date/) As a result, I made a declaration to embrace myself as a 44-year-old woman. I shared an authentic-not-airbrushed selfie. (See above.) I got a lot of wonderful support from you all. But there was a part of the story I didn’t tell you, that I want to bring to light now. I slept with him, the Tind

I’m taking a few days away from screens. Here’s why. I had a moment of clarity last week when I tried to read a book. A book I’m really interested in, that when I saw it on my friend’s shelf, I immediately got it down from the shelf and wanted to start it. I sat down to dive in, and literally after 30 seconds, I wanted to check my phone, that I had just checked 30 seconds before. I noticed this happening. And made a bigger effort. “I’m going to read for 5 minutes without stop

Last night I went on a Tinder date with someone a lot younger than me. He said the following things:”I bet you were pretty 20 years ago.” “You look good, for your age.” “You look the same now, except for the wrinkles” Ouch And yet – THEY ARE ALL TRUE. So why does it hurt so much? I am 44 years old. All my life, I have used my looks as currency, my main mechanism of selling myself to the world. I have cashed in using this currency throughout my life. It has opened doors quickl

Up until a few months ago, I was ashamed of my age. I never wanted to tell people how old I was. I worried and wondered if people could guess that I was in my 40s by looking at me. I hoped that I looked younger. Then in February I went on a Tinder date that inspired me to come fully out of the age closet. I wrote about it here and posted an unfiltered, unedited selfie for all to see. And I owned my age of 44. I felt fear as I published what I wrote, but I trusted the unknown.

July 15, 1998, is twenty-three years ago today. Almost half my life has gone by since then. Still, I remember it every year. Here’s why. In late 1997 when I was twenty-one, I hatched a cowardly suicide scheme. I was too afraid to take direct action to kill myself, so I came up with an alternative: I would run away from everyone and everything and hope I would just simply die. So I made a plan. First, I set a date of departure: July 15, 1998. Then, a destination. I was living

When the phases of lockdown first started rippling throughout the world, I downplayed it in my mind. I listened to early reports of the virus saying that the situation was being overblown, and felt assured that this was something I could watch go by, a blip on my radar, and that things would soon return to normal like the other viruses of the past 20 years. But the days passed, and numbers rose and borders closed. I wrestled with the idea that regardless of the legitimacy of

There is a space between an event that occurs and how we interpret the event.  This gap is imperceptible for people that are living unconsciously. You know the type: they go stumbling around their lives, bumping up against things unwanted, and react to everything. They take everything personally, internalizing everything in their outer world. It’s understandable because it’s survival. Most humans are operating from that base part of the brain leftover from ancient times. I ca

All types of love share common themes, whether it is romantic love, familial love, or love between friends. One of the biggest themes is expectation. Where there is love, there is expectation due to the roles people take on when the label of love is applied. However, expectation is the opposite of love. Expectation binds, love frees. This, in essence, could be called conditional love, but that is an oxymoron because love is not conditional. This same idea of expectations and