Get Balanced, Get Blissed: Nourishment for Body, Mind, and Soul

Get Balanced, Get Blissed: Nourishment for Body, Mind, and Soul

by Lynne Goldberg


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Get Balanced, Get Blissed: Nourishment for Body, Mind, and Soul by Lynne Goldberg

“Lynne Goldberg’s life story is an example of the remarkable power of nutrition and meditation to transform not only our bodies on a cellular level but also our thoughts on an emotional and spiritual level. Her personal odyssey demonstrates that when you change what you eat, you can change who you are.”

- Antonia Demas, PhD; president, Food Studies Institute; visiting scholar, Johns Hopkins School of Public Health; clinical assistant professor, University of Illinois College of Medicine at Rockford

After a particularly rough couple of years during which she got divorced and lost twin baby girls, her career and her loving and supportive mother, Lynne Goldberg had hit rock bottom. With nowhere to go but up, she set out on a path to start over and rebuild her life from the ground up. Using the simple tools discussed in this book, she regained her lust for life. Now a certified meditation teacher, certified plant-based diet educator and Tony Robbins holistic lifestyle coach, Lynne helps people de-stress, find peace and rediscover their bliss. Are you ready to start loving your life again? Start reading to begin your journey.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781452582597
Publisher: Balboa Press
Publication date: 10/31/2013
Pages: 118
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.28(d)

Read an Excerpt

Get Balanced, Get Blissed

Nourishment for Body, Mind and Soul


Balboa Press

Copyright © 2013 Lynne Goldberg
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-8259-7


Part 1

Get Blissed

You might think that as the author of a book about bliss, my life—and my body—have always felt blissful. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth.

A Really Bad Year

It was December in Montreal—cold, gray and completely deserted. There were few people on the street and even fewer in the hospital, which is where I sat, hoping not to give birth at only 24 weeks. It had been a long road to get here: years of infertility (IVF, to be exact) treatments slowly depleting our savings accounts, and yet still so much time spent wishing for a pink dot on all those over-the-counter home pregnancy tests.

When I was rushed to the hospital two days prior with contractions, I was admitted into labor. My doctor put me on drugs to slow down my labor and hoped that I could hold out for two more days—when, he explained, the babies would be "viable."

Perhaps his definition of "viable" differed from mine. The thought of giving birth to two beautiful twin girls who might be born with, according to the doctor, underdeveloped lungs, possible blindness, the potential for deafness and so many other potential birth defects, made me literally shake with fear. How could I possibly take care of two precious babies with so many health problems? The prospect seemed not only daunting, but overwhelming and perhaps even impossible.

My career as the vice president of a retail chain, which until that point had been my pride and joy, had already been sidelined by the two-month bed rest. I conducted whatever business I could from my bedroom, but as I was unable to travel to meetings, meet with vendors or do my job in any meaningful way, I was admittedly pretty useless.

As much as I so desperately wanted the twins to hang in there and become truly 'viable,' I prayed they would either arrive now or sit tight for a couple more months. If it happened before 25 weeks, which was two days from now, there would be no life support. The burden of my decision would be lifted. I willed myself to control the situation, but the more I tried, the more obvious it became that I had no control whatsoever. This was out of my hands.

I saw my parents peek into my hospital room. My father, normally so powerful, started to cry when he saw me. My mother, always there to make everything better, always so strong, wrapped her arms around me like a little girl. I felt so guilty. She had just been diagnosed with colon cancer. Her holiday out of the cold and snow was what she needed more than anything, and yet she had interrupted it just to take care of me. Still, I was so relieved she was here. I could relax. There would be someone else to share my burden. Now, I wouldn't have to be so strong.

My husband sighed with relief. He, too, felt she could make it better. My mother sprang into action. She started researching side effects of the steroids they were going to give me, but she was already too late. When the doctor arrived, she checked me and said the words I had been fearing most: "Your water broke, and you have an infection. We will have to deliver them shortly."

My mother looked at me with sympathy and rubbed my arm to comfort me. She was compassionate but unable to change the outcome. I was more practical, my businesswoman side coming out as usual. "Can you give me something for the pain?" I asked. I refused to engage in any sort of "what if." I decided I would not cry. I tried to keep it together. When I was dilated enough, I lay an unwilling participant as the room transformed. My table grew stirrups, and I watched numbly as the first baby was born. She was whisked away and wrapped and swaddled. A student doctor began to cry. Having weighed all my options, having made up my mind, I had decided not to use life support. Whatever would happen, would happen.

It was all but certain the babies would die. Everyone in the room knew it, I just had to live it. Twenty minutes later, the second baby was born. The babies were brought to me, but I resisted holding them. Too small by far, I didn't even want to see them. Their eyes were closed. I kissed them a final goodbye.

The epidural wore off, and I just wanted to go home. I tried to stand on my own, but my muscles had atrophied from lying in bed for so long. I walked from the room using a cane. My body has betrayed me again, I thought to myself as my family followed me out of the hospital. This seemed like the final insult in a punishing series of events that had left me weak, hopeless, pitiful.

Back home, I peered at my breasts in the shower. My milk had already started to come, and it ran down my body with the water. The tears started as well. I feared they would never end.

Bad Things Happen

The hardest thing about being vulnerable is when you realize that bad things can, and inevitably will, happen to you. I had lived a fairly uneventful life until I got pregnant, at which point everything changed. It was hard not to feel cursed after that, or at least damaged. My bright and shiny view of the world had changed forever, but it took time to unravel completely.

Six weeks after coming home from the hospital, I flew to Frankfurt on business. I was used to these trips and usually enjoyed the excitement of the travel. As I began to cross the jetway onto the plane, however, I suddenly froze. I tried to remember the superstition about which foot to use. Should it be my right or left? Tears slid down my cheeks when I couldn't remember. I forced myself onto the plane in anger. Embarrassed by my lack of professionalism and uncontrollable emotions, I scolded myself, hoping no one had noticed how ridiculous I was acting.

Sitting there on the plane, I started making deals with God. "If you let us land safely," I promised desperately, "I will be more charitable." Then, "If you let my mother be okay, I will never gossip again." Part of me knew what I was doing was irrational, but I struggled to get some element—any element—of control.

I struggled with the loss of the twins very differently than my husband had. I wanted to throw myself into finding a solution to our infertility; he wanted to absorb the loss and recover.

As he mourned, I grew impatient. I was sick of hearing about hope and faith, or our names for the babies. I was sad because I missed our future with them; he grieved their loss as if they had already been a part of our lives. I worried because I wanted my mother to see me settled and happy with a baby before she passed away. He wanted to make sure we knew what we wanted before we continued. Should we adopt or try IVF again?

At work I was a zombie. Sitting at my desk, I would make phone calls to lawyers, adoption agencies, doctors and anyone I could think of that could help us make sense of our lives. The choices we had were endless: private or public adoption, surrogates, fertilization. Ultimately the question became: Which lawyer should we use? There was one well-known lawyer in Manhattan that we heard could "get babies quickly." I called.

"What do you want?" he barked when I finally got through.

I whispered, scared to hear his answer: "You come highly recommended. Is it true you can help us adopt in 6 months?"

"Yes," he replied, "but I need 50,000 dollars deposited to my account before I will work with you."

"My mother is sick," I explained. "I don't know how much time we have. Do you have any available birth mothers right now?"

"Lady," he shrieked in his nasal-y New York accent, "Everyone is desperate, get me the money and we'll tawk."

I hung up revolted, shaking and questioning my judgment. Should I just do what he asked and send him the money? By stalling, by questioning, would I be too late? My instinct told me to let it go, so I did.

Work was a distraction, a place I could go where the topic of babies was off-limits, and I could feel like I had at least some control over the rest of my life. As I sat in my office, people buzzed around me with questions, needing my input and approval, handing me paperwork. My opinions mattered here. I had a purpose again, and it felt good. Here, I was valued for what I had accomplished, not whether I could bear children.

Even so, I worked sporadically. I would get a burst of energy, accomplish a great deal and then get sidetracked. My phone rang one day; it was my mother. "I'm worried about you," she said. "I think you are depressed. Maybe you could take some time off," she suggested delicately. "Your brothers are complaining about your work."

I was in a family business. My father, two brothers and I all worked together in a dysfunctional mess. From birth, the three of us kids had all vied for attention from our parents in one form or another. A family business was just an extension of that. So not only was I failing on that front, but suddenly I had also become a financial liability.

Shortly after the call with my mother, my brother approached me tentatively.

"We need to hire someone to replace you," he said. "You are going to be on maternity leave sometime soon anyway when you have your baby. Mummy is sick and could use someone to help her." He paused before adding, "Would you help us train someone?"

I stewed. How dare they? I had given my heart and soul to this company, and because I forgot a few deadlines, messed up a few times, that was it? I was out?

How come men could have babies and not have to give up anything? I wondered to myself. Why was I expected to take care of my mother? What about my father, my brothers?

Then fear kicked in. How will I support myself? What will I do for money? I was a businesswoman. My identity was so closely wrapped up in my career that when I learned it was over, I felt like I was losing everything. I had failed at being a mother and now a career woman—even a good daughter. I couldn't do these few, simple things. So what was I good for?

Grief is exhausting. So is worry. My anxiety became so debilitating that I lost whatever energy I had leftover for work, home, my husband, life ... anything. At a certain point, it was easier to give up than continue to fight. I took a leave of absence from work and started training someone to take over for me. Then my apathy turned into rage.

I was angry at my brothers. How could my own family do this to me?

I was angry at life. How could God let this happen to me?

I felt like everything was black and futile. Other people's happiness drove me crazy. I seethed in jealous rage. Anybody complaining about their kids could send me into a catatonic state. How dare they complain about birthday parties and kids' cliques? I would have done anything for a child, no complaints necessary.

As I began caring for my mother, I drew strength from her courage. She never complained. She handled her death sentence with grace and dignity. She wanted to live her life to the fullest in the time that she had left. She went back to school to get a degree in couples counseling, knowing full well there was a strong possibility she would die before it was completed.

She wanted to travel. Even if it meant wearing a catheter and a morphine pump, my mother wanted to go on a safari before she died. Wanting to squeeze every last ounce of life's pleasures, she went to Africa alongside friends.

My father, knowing she was dying and fearful of being alone, began having an affair. Lying alone in the hospital, my mother would wait for visits, and often he would not come. She befriended the nurses instead and found comfort from everyone else.

As a psychologist, she would listen for hours to people's stories, offering words of support and comfort. Her friends visited regularly. And her children were always around. We were very angry with our father. My mother, the one who had been so wronged, understood and forgave him. She didn't waste time on bitterness and anger. She saw his weakness, and with compassion, she comforted him as he grieved and mourned his loss.

The only bright spot during this time was the formal adoption of our son Josh, who thankfully my mother got to see before she died. And die she did. At the end, she was peaceful, loved and happy.

Meanwhile, I lived. I had no job, my mother had just died and my marriage was collapsing. I was angry, depressed and felt like I had no identity. Taking care of my mother had become my new job. Now I felt like I had nothing. I learned, however, that just the opposite was true.

Your Body, Your Mind, Your Life

What was the purpose of that story? Why share with you all those sad and intimate moments of my life? To reiterate this: we all share something very important—the human condition.

We have all suffered from life's disappointments. We have all had our share of pain, heartache and grief. That's inevitable. As you read my story, I'm sure you nodded your head in understanding. Even if the details were different, you have no doubt experienced pain that has left a mark on you.

One of the most amazing abilities we have is to take those painful moments and use them to learn and grow. I watched someone I loved dearly, die. She was in a tremendous amount of pain and suffered enormously. I have spent a great deal of time learning how to help others avoid what she went through, and I hope that the information I share can help in some way.

Although I didn't understand it at the time, I had been given a gift. As I began rebuilding my life, I was able to see the joy in starting over. I had reached rock bottom—been there and back—and now found myself staring at a blank slate. What an opportunity to start over, to create a life that instead of giving me grief and pain, would give me bliss.

I began a new path, followed new instincts and made new friendships, connections and allies. Along the way, I learned some amazing tools to make the process easier. I am offering the words and wisdom in this book in the hopes that when life is dark, you too will have a ray of light to guide you through. No matter how dark it gets, there is always light! Sometimes, you just have to learn how to uncover it.

Live Bliss

Have you ever considered what makes a life happy? Meaningful? Taken one step further, have you ever thought about what can allow us to achieve that state known as bliss?

Western medical traditions teach us that we can live our life however we want, without consequences. When we get sick, there will be a pill to "fix" us. High cholesterol? Again, a pill. Feeling a little down? Here's a bottle of anti-depressants. Are you obese? An appetite-suppressant will do the trick.

Even more so than the prescription-writing doctors and physicians, the all-powerful media takes it one step further by giving us the illusion that we can achieve better health by consuming the food industry's chemical concoctions, also known as processed foods. They want us to think we can eat whatever we want—as long as it's their version of reduced-fat, diet, sugar-free or fat-free. They tell us "calories in, calories out." That it doesn't really matter what we put into our mouths. And yet, years later, when our health inevitably fails us, the doctors will be waiting expectantly with a trove of pharmaceuticals and expensive surgeries to "fix" our problems for us.

Some try to stop time using pills, potions, procedures and other plastic surgery "cures" to look as young as possible. And if you can't afford plastic surgery, at least you can work your butt off in the gym to the point where you are emaciated enough to fit the media's picture of "beauty." Thin is in, but even if you're not, they tell us we can still be "fat and fit," even though movies and advertisements beg to differ. The women's magazines tell us to 'eat clean' and starve ourselves on 21-day juice fasts if we're feeling a little flabby, and yet the next pages advertise for fat-free yogurt, insulin-spiking vitamin water and highly processed sugary protein bars. The mixed messages are endless and overwhelming to the point where we feel powerless to stop them.

By relying on external sources for our health and well-being, we give away our personal power. We come to believe that we are not as knowledgeable or as able to care for ourselves as our physicians. We pass off the responsibility of self-care to someone else, because we have been taught that doctors are all-knowing and will always be able to "fix" us, no matter the concern.

Medical doctors do serve a very important function. There has been a good deal of research that has been incredibly valuable in regards to not only the care they provide, but also to the effectiveness of their treatment. But we can't underestimate the power of self-care—given by none other than, you guessed it: your pretty little self.

In determining the state of our health, we are far more powerful than we think. And to be truly healthy—and I don't mean being stick-thin or simply having acceptable numbers from your latest blood work—we must rely on ourselves to find our own ideal balance in these areas:

1. Proper nutrition and exercise

2. Adequate rest

3. The ability to deal with stress

4. Meaningful relationships

5. A strong belief in a higher power

We have to start somewhere, so let's get going!


Excerpted from Get Balanced, Get Blissed by LYNNE GOLDBERG. Copyright © 2013 Lynne Goldberg. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents


• Introduction, vii,
• Part 1: Get Blissed, 1,
• Part 2: Your Body, 11,
• Part 3: Your Mind, 36,
• Part 4: Your Environment, 48,
• Part 5: Your Relationships, 65,
• Part 6: Your Spirit, 80,
• Part 7: The Get Blissed 21-Day Challenge, 91,
* Step 1: Set Your Goals, 91,
* Step 2: Scope Out Your Hurdles, 92,
* Step 3: Replace Your Old Habits With New Ones, 93,
* Step 4: See the Black Hole, 94,
* Step 5: Make Lifestyle Changes, 95,
* Step 6: Have a Support System, 96,
* Step 7: Reward Yourself!, 96,
• Tying it All Together, 99,

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Get Balanced, Get Blissed: Nourishment for Body, Mind, and Soul 4.7 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 3 reviews.
sharris0 More than 1 year ago
Get Balanced, Get Blissed is an incredible book! Goldberg shares some of her life story and how she was basically at rock bottom after her mother died and her marriage fell apart, but she was able to build her life back up for the better. This book goes into practical ways to achieve a blissful life and with everything that Goldberg suggests, she accompanies with plenty of research which really makes this book something that we all should read, because we should all be aware of the things she talks about, like for instance how we are effecting the planet and our bodies with our addiction to processed foods. I have had a couple of unhealthy years recently and have realized how much better I feel when I avoid processed foods and added sugar, and this book has helped me to better wrap my mind around how to further get my life on track, keep the stress down, and enjoy life. Everyone can take something away from reading this well written book!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I really liked this book. I don’t know a lot about the whole food diet, and I guess I just think of my diet as the traditional food pyramid diet. But seeing the data this author brought together showed me that I need to really look into whether or not that’s the most healthy way for me to eat. Specifically the data on a vegetarian whole foods diet tied to much lower cancer was very applicable to concerns I have, and I thought that book really showed me a different way to stay healthy. She showed why her healthy diet and lifestyle are more than a gimmick, but are truly life changing, which I really liked.
KMH3030 More than 1 year ago
Get Balanced, Get Blissed is full of interesting and eye opening information on what is harmful in most of our everyday lives and how adopting a plant based diet can have huge impact on keeping you healthy. I found the information on cancer and heart disease really intriguing; the author collects data showing how countries and regions that have more plant based, whole food diets have drastically lower deaths from both of these issues. She shows how you can get all of the vitamins etc that your body needs with plant based diet. She also teaches new ways to be more optimistic and stronger mentally and I thought her ideas were things I could really do. She does a good job of making her ideas accessible, I felt like I actually understood her ideas on meditation, on how to get the most out of it. I also really liked that she frames all of her advice around how she came to this lifestyle herself, her story is so relatable and made me feel like I could make these changes too.