Kris Evans – Styled Inside Out

It seems any adventure I start always is exciting when I first begin. The learning process is challenging and can be frustrating. The more knowledge I acquire the more I want to know. And sometimes that can get in the way of learning. It is becoming more difficult to keep my focus on any one thing for any length of time.

I am a big list maker because if I don’t write down everything that’s going on in my head I will never remember anything. And with age the memory seems, at times, to be my worst enemy. The frustration of not being able to remember things that use to be second nature can be infuriating. And that’s where the discipline comes into play. What use to come to me so easily is starting to be a thing of the past.

Now I refuse to buy into the excuse of age. Just won’t do it. I believe discipline plays the most essential part of living fully. But I am finding my focus and restlessness is becoming more apparent. I am the one with ten books next to my bed and magazines piled up because I refuse to throw away any knowledge I may be missing. And that can lead to my lack of discipline in doing anything. It seems I am a jack of all trades, but a master of none. I have a lot of fun facts to know and tell at the next cocktail party that in short snippets can be impressive but in the big picture seems just that: cocktail talk.

This all leads to what I have found for me to be the biggest obstacle for discipline and that’s the technical world. Can’t believe I’m saying that. This coming from someone who has always gone the creative route and not so interested in the technical world. Never was that passionate about math or science. The arts was and still is my love and passion. But I have been connected with something that has never been in my grasp. Free and easy knowledge available to me 24 hours a day seven days a week.

I haven’t gone so crazy that everything I do is on my phone or my Ipad or my computer but just listing all of those tells me it isn’t far off. I’m struggling not to make it the only way I can to get my knowledge. I still have to have the New York Sunday Times in the paper form. Love to sit with my morning coffee and physically turn the pages. The Style section has great ads that don’t appear online and I find inspiration in seeing the design of those ads. I love to page through a magazine and smell the ink from the fresh print. Yes, there are still some magazines that actually still have that wonderful smell.

Maybe it’s keeping my past close to me that keeps me hanging on to what is becoming obsolete. I keep saying how I want life to be simple and it is a lot easier to carry an Ipad with all the information I could possibly need than to carry newspapers or magazines or a book. But I’ll never give up what has made me happy for so long. I just have to be disciplined not to let it overwhelm me.

This may sound a bit silly to think something like this could be overwhelming but it sets off a reminder of what else is swirling in my head of things that need to get done. With my tendency to be pulled away by just about any shiny object too many choices can leave me feeling like I have kept busy but accomplished very little. Guilt has a way of rearing it’s ugly head when I let too many days go by without my yoga or meditation or keeping tracking of healthy eating or anything else I tried to accomplish to feel better and enjoy my private moments.

When discipline, however, leads to guilt I have to step back and realize that what I am trying to accomplish in my everyday life is suppose to make me feel better not less. I have to be disciplined enough to give myself a break without slacking off so much that I don’t continue to do anything at all. The art of discipline I am trying to discover and learn from is to know the difference and be kind to myself.

I’ve never been what I would call fat but I have always had to watch what I eat. Throughout my life I have been more active some years than others. I have never been able to “eat whatever I want” and retain my desired weight. But the issue of what my desired weight is and what is healthy are two different things. Obesity does run in my family and I have seen what the emotional damage can do to someone overweight.

I have had better luck in dieting even though I know it’s a way of life and not any one particular “diet”. I have used every excuse in the book including the standard long work hours, hormones and thyroid. Now I don’t know if any of that is untrue. To a certain extent I’m sure it may have something to do with it. But if I really think about the times I struggle, it also has a lot to do with how I feel about myself.

Such a revelation, huh? I know when I am unhappy I eat more to show I have control over my life. You would think I would know I am out of control by stopping myself and questioning what exactly is pissing me off. But not so easy in my world. Really not easy.

Because the smart me knows that it is not the anger that is making me eat. It is the fear and hurt that if I am the weight I want to be I won’t be safe. I will not have an excuse for why I can’t be everything I want to be. I will actually have to be responsible for everything that happens in my life. Not just the things I want to acknowledge.

This issue is just the tip of the iceberg. It affects how I work, how I dress, how I feel and how I treat other people. If I don’t feel secure in myself I tend to judge other people in a negative way. I’m not as forgiving or caring as I would like. My anger, if someone behaves in a way I find inappropriate, escalates to a point of attitude. And all the while inside I’m saying I am behaving that way and they are a reminder of what I shouldn’t be doing.

That’s when I reach for the chocolate. I recently received some dark chocolate cherries as a gift from a company that is from my hometown. Can’t find it anywhere else so absolutely love it and know how special it is. You would think I would take my time and revel in how good it is and how long I could enjoy it. But instead I polished off an entire one pound box in two days! That’s a lot of chocolate covered cherries. Did it make me feel great? No. Did I gain weight? Yes. Did I feel guilty? Yes. Was it the fault of the chocolate? Of course not. Do I sound juvenile even writing about this? Absolutely.

But at the time I was going to show whoever it was I thought was mean to me that I had the power! And eating chocolate covered cherries was going to do that? No, but I had the power to choose and that was all the power I needed for the moment. By the way, most of the time I am by myself showing “my power”. I understand why coaches and therapists give you tools to force you to walk away. They want you to tell the psyche you’ve got this and no need to shove food into your mouth. That the voice deep down in me is the one I should be focusing on. The loving one. The one that has my best interest at heart.

That voice is showing up less and especially now that I am older and worried about how hard it is to keep the faith. The faith
that I am trying. Some days it will be good and some days I’ll screw up bad. But the weight of knowing I am still
trying and still aware is much more important then what shows up on the scale.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my past after losing a loved one. I have fleeting thoughts of times in my life that have influence how I act and react to life. I was recently in Canada and experienced the fall and it reminded me of changes that happened because of my past life. I grew up in Ohio and always loved the fall because of the leaves. As an artist I am always aware of shapes and colors and there are few things more spectacular then the evening hour where the light hits the trees just so and they glow. How magnificent nature is that enables this change to take place. And every evening there is the magic hour that seems to put us all to rest for another day.

I remember, as a kid, bundling up against the chill that was just a suggestion of the winter ahead. I loved to hear the crackle of leaves under my feet as I dawdled towards school. I walked about a mile and hated it at the time. My mom thought it was good for us to have the exercise and get out in the air but really she was tired from trying to raise four kids on her own and wanted the sleep. She was a cocktail waitress and worked into the wee hours of the morning. I can’t believe she worked 12 hour shifts in a tight pencil skirt and high heels like a runner in a marathon. I can still smell the Aqua Net as she sprayed her French Twist before going to work.

My love of jazz comes from the records she would bring home from the Peacock Lounge. Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Frank Sinatra and Count Basie. I know every note of Ella’s album Ella in Berlin:Mack the Knife as well as Frank Sinatra with Count Basie. I just recently heard Frank’s The Main Event at Madison Square Garden where Howard Cosell made the introduction. Classic.

Every time I heard a song from those artists I think back to when life was tough but also simple. Small accomplishments like singing in a high school variety show seemed to be the ultimate. Rehearsing for that moment of opening night and the few days of performance. The Sounds of Withrow. The flowers, the costumes, the makeup and the friendships. No matter what was happening on the outside there I was safe and happy.

Recently I was working with a wonderful actress who also loves jazz. Every time she would come into the trailer Billie Holiday would happened to be singing. We laughed every time but for me it gave me an opportunity to connect with someone in a different way other than business as usual. And I will have that memory every time I listen to Billie Holiday.

I guess it’s no mistake my son is a jazz guitarist and lives for his music. One of my most profound memories is his birth and the joy he has brought into my life. Who knew that a girl from Cincinnati, Ohio who sang to Ella would be singing with my son the same songs. There is no greater joy than that.

But I digress and so back to the leaves and fall. Inevitably, fall brings winter and where I lived the snow. One year I spent Christmas high in the Swiss Alps in the small town of Schwende. Only about 15 homes dotted the immense mountains but there was a church, a hostel and a place to rent skis. It was my first experience on cross country skis and I loved the freedom. In my exuberance I skied on top a mountain where it was so quiet I could hear my heart beat. Not only feel it but HEAR it. I’ve never experienced that type of quiet again. It was liberating in a very surreal way. Again, I felt safe and happy.

As I write this I realize I have had so many wonderful memories from the outrageous to the sublime. And I have had some not so wonderful memories which have made me fearful, angry and sad. But if you throw them all in the hat today I happen to pick only the wonderful ones. I again remind myself how precious life is and how fortunate I have been up to now.

Author: Kris Evans

Discipline

Weight

Memories