How to feed your skinny cow.

What does a home that nourishes you look like?

I had to get out of Cambodia. As soon as possible.

How did I get into Cambodia?

Well…I met a man named Conrad in Thailand.

We bonded over a shared dream, if you must know.

I thought it’d be cool to own a little boutique hotel and he was looking to open a yoga retreat center and I promise you there were not really all that many gin and tonics involved in our planning sessions when we decided what the heck, let’s go to Cambodia and do this thing.

I also promise you that Conrad and I were not romantically involved. Mostly because Conrad was not inclined to be romantically involved with a woman and I was inclined to not fall in love with someone who was not even remotely interested in falling in love with me.

Unrequited love has never been my thing.

But also, my Spotify playlist might tell a different story on this matter.

For a number of reasons (the main one being that Conrad got a boyfriend in Thailand and the other one being that I didn’t feel like waiting around for that to end), I arrived in Cambodia before he did. I settled myself into an apartment near the beach and started getting to know the town.

Wanna know what I learned about this town?

First, the beach was gorgeous. Seriously stunning.

And abandoned. Except for this one random skinny cow that was everywhere.

This cow was like a ghost cow. It was so skinny you could practically see right through it. It was weird. And unsettling. And gave me the creeps.

The other thing I learned was that there was nothing in this town I could eat that would stay in my body.

Which means that against my will and despite my best efforts, I WAS BECOMING THE RANDOM, SKINNY COW!

Talk about weird and unsettling.

After weeks of feeling loose, liquid, and watery (sorry, that’s so gross), I woke up and said, “Listen, losing a few pounds is nice, but this is ridiculous and cannot go on.”

And also, “Where the #@*! is Conrad?”

And also, “I’m really not loving this anymore.”

I had to get out of Cambodia.

So I high-stepped my rapidly disappearing hide over to the travel agency and asked about the quickest way to get out of town.

Lucky for me, there was a flight to Saigon in the morning on an airline so new they were offering introductory flights for $5. Including my luggage, which contained 6 articles of clothing and what was left of the 4,821 tampons I’d packed when I left the US because I knew that they were going to be impossible to find and I was not wrong.

If you get nothing else from this story, my #1 tip for you today is to bring a suitcase of tampons with you when you go to live in Southeast Asia.

My #2 tip is this: when $5 tickets to anywhere are available, you buy them before the airline realizes what they’re doing.

I’ve never booked a flight so quickly in my life.

The next morning, I flew away from all the things I’d hoped settling down in Cambodia would be.

Because I was hungry.

And unable to find nourishment.

If you’re living in a place that doesn’t feed you, can you ever call it home?

The magic of home is that it nurtures, sustains, protects, and permits us to be our truest, most favorite selves. The version of us that doesn’t have to perform or perfect or pretend. The version that can breathe deeply, laugh easily, and just be.

The reality of home is that sometimes, we look around and not only are we unable to find the batteries for the remote control that we know are around here somewhere because we keep buying them.

(sigh)

We also can’t easily find the things that prevent us from losing sight of who we are and what we are doing with our life.

The good news is, you don’t have to leave Cambodia.

Here’s how we fix the problem and prevent ourselves from fading away.

We curate a home where we can find sanctuary, not just shelter.

Which means:

• Anything that supports our well-being, from the food in the pantry to the furniture we sit on? Stays.

• Anything that doesn’t contribute to our physical or mental health? Goes.

• If it energizes and enriches our lives? We keep it.

• If it makes us feel drained or depleted? It’s gone.

• Does it nurture your creativity and keep you inspired? You keep it.

• Does it make you smarter or safer or stronger? You keep it.

• Does it help you relax? Or indulge in a small moment of joy? Or keep you balanced and calm, so you can face whatever comes next. Keep. Keep. Keep.

• Doesn’t make you feel cared for? Or clear-headed? Or like you’re at your best? Let. It. Go.

You deserve a home that makes it easy to be well.

You deserve a home that will give you back all the energy and focus and belief in yourself and the goodness of the universe that the world outside your door might be starving out of your soul.

You deserve a home that has heard everything on your Spotify playlist and refuses to play the unrequited love songs because that is not your thing.

This is how you feed a skinny cow.

Your Not So Skinny Anymore Cambodian Cow,
Vivian