Tomorrow, on the 4th, there will a huge parade through the streets of our little town. I won't be there. In fact I haven't attended the parade since 12 years ago when I rode in one of the county fire trucks driven by my volunteer fire fighter husband. We did that for 2 years.
It was fun, riding high above the crowds lining the streets, throwing candies out the windows to the kids, blasting the horn now and then. It was fun to be part of the parade and part of the fire department.
Since then I've always skipped the parade and the festivities in town. We've only once driven to where we could see the fireworks. Instead, we hole up on our property and wait for it to be over. Why?
Why? That's the question behind today's post. Seems to be something from my childhood, some anxiety or fear.
I recall enjoying community 4th of July celebrations as a youth, spending the whole day and evening at a local park, participating in three-legged races and such, eating hot dogs and ice cream, anticipating all day the culminating fireworks display. Didn't like the big-bang crackers, but super loved the cascading, color-changing sparklers. Happy memories. Whole family, big blanket spread on the ground, our little "turf," Mom and Dad on the blanket, like home base.
But for un-remembered reasons, we didn't go to the parade, which was the kick-off event to the day's fun. Maybe my brother went to it. I didn't.
So, going back in time, I recall going to at least one 4th of July parade in Sutter Creek, CA, as a child, maybe when I was 2 or 3? My biological father died in a car accident in September, five days before I turned 5. Since my memory has me atop my Daddy's shoulders, it must have been when I was 4 or less years old.
Feeling my way through the shreds of memory now... Daddy, taller than most men in the crowd, and me on his shoulders giving me a fabulous view! Yet it's possible I'm a little frightened by the size of the crowd and all the noise they are making. Do I feel insecure way up high, by myself? Did Daddy put me down? Was I engulfed by the crowd? Did Daddy let go of my hand for a moment? Did I get lost? I do not recall the specifics, but as I write these words, I feel agitated, anxious, with a sensation of wanting to graze in the kitchen, rare thoughts of my binge foods.
It seems pretty clear that not wanting to attend parades as a spectator has something to do with this incomplete memory. It's OK if I don't go to parades. Yet, I'd like to find a way to comfort and reassure my inner child about the past event.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Funny to See Evidence of an Early Start...
My earliest memories of being aware of overeating don't begin until my college years, although I was a chubby gal in 6-8th grades and felt (but didn't really look) huge in HS because of my height.
After my mom died in March, I brought home their collection of old pictures. Looking through some of them last evening turned up two tell-tale signs of an early start to compulsive overeating.
This first one was Thanksgiving dinner in 1943, making me age 1 year and 2 months. It appears to me that dinner may already have been served, but there's yours truly, still at the table, eyes fixed on the bird, intently gnawing on a turkey bone, oblivious to everything else including whoever took the picture.
Here's a closer look at my rapt little face.
And then there's this one, probably taken when I was just under two years old. Again, will you look at the frosting on this face. YUM! I'm guessing I had gotten all I could get from that beater and was telling Mom "I want the other one now."
Yep, if you want to produce a compulsive overeater, start them along the path at an early age!
After my mom died in March, I brought home their collection of old pictures. Looking through some of them last evening turned up two tell-tale signs of an early start to compulsive overeating.
This first one was Thanksgiving dinner in 1943, making me age 1 year and 2 months. It appears to me that dinner may already have been served, but there's yours truly, still at the table, eyes fixed on the bird, intently gnawing on a turkey bone, oblivious to everything else including whoever took the picture.
Here's a closer look at my rapt little face.
And then there's this one, probably taken when I was just under two years old. Again, will you look at the frosting on this face. YUM! I'm guessing I had gotten all I could get from that beater and was telling Mom "I want the other one now."
Yep, if you want to produce a compulsive overeater, start them along the path at an early age!
Sunday, June 26, 2011
I Am a Compulsive Overeater
Being sick and coughing my head off for 2.5 months has tried my patience (Lord, please let me never suffer a long-term illness... I just don't do it very well). I've had no trouble remaining abstinent on my binge foods, no trouble at all with that.
However, I see that I'm still a compulsive overeater. For example, we bought TWO giant bags of brown rice/black bean chips at Costco about a weeks ago. Yummy, crisp, not entirely unhealthy... at least they have some fiber and lower fat/sodium than most chips. The first opened bag sits on the counter by our stove, the top rolled down and clipped with a close pin.
Not at mealtime, but between lunch and dinner, the "fever" hits me. I go to the kitchen and scan the shelves and the refrigerator. Eyes light on chips. Ah-ha, just what I need. Unroll the top, grab a handful, put them on the stove, close up the bag, and munch those yummy little morsels one at a time.
Ummmmm, those were good... think I need some more. Repeat steps x - y above, another handful on the stove. Close bag and munch.
Ummmmmm, those were really yummy... yep, more would be good and I do deserve them after all I've been through. Yet another handful on the stove. Close bag and munch.
Ooooops. Alarm bell goes off. This is compulsive overeating! I don't DO compulsive overeating anymore. I really don't. STOP! Hold it! No more. I quit.
Next day, same scenario... same bag of chips. Same repeating pattern. Once again the third handful awakened the realization of what I was doing.
Today? No chips. Right after scanning the shelves, the realization came. I fixed myself a cup of hot tea and departed the kitchen.... YAY!!!!
* * * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: Ron Mann's documentary staring Woody Harrelson called Go Further, which is entertaining, informative, fun and possibly life-changing in some ways for me and my husband. Also, modern drugs (I feel 5% better today), my husband (who suggested I stay home this evening rather than go to a vintage tall ship sailing event with him), cyber friends, and earth.
However, I see that I'm still a compulsive overeater. For example, we bought TWO giant bags of brown rice/black bean chips at Costco about a weeks ago. Yummy, crisp, not entirely unhealthy... at least they have some fiber and lower fat/sodium than most chips. The first opened bag sits on the counter by our stove, the top rolled down and clipped with a close pin.
Not at mealtime, but between lunch and dinner, the "fever" hits me. I go to the kitchen and scan the shelves and the refrigerator. Eyes light on chips. Ah-ha, just what I need. Unroll the top, grab a handful, put them on the stove, close up the bag, and munch those yummy little morsels one at a time.
Ummmmm, those were good... think I need some more. Repeat steps x - y above, another handful on the stove. Close bag and munch.
Ummmmmm, those were really yummy... yep, more would be good and I do deserve them after all I've been through. Yet another handful on the stove. Close bag and munch.
Ooooops. Alarm bell goes off. This is compulsive overeating! I don't DO compulsive overeating anymore. I really don't. STOP! Hold it! No more. I quit.
Next day, same scenario... same bag of chips. Same repeating pattern. Once again the third handful awakened the realization of what I was doing.
Today? No chips. Right after scanning the shelves, the realization came. I fixed myself a cup of hot tea and departed the kitchen.... YAY!!!!
* * * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: Ron Mann's documentary staring Woody Harrelson called Go Further, which is entertaining, informative, fun and possibly life-changing in some ways for me and my husband. Also, modern drugs (I feel 5% better today), my husband (who suggested I stay home this evening rather than go to a vintage tall ship sailing event with him), cyber friends, and earth.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Still Raining & Coughing
Ever hear the expression, Hope springs eternal in the female breast? So it is with mine. This morning the Med Clinic called after a radiologist looked at my X-rays. Said he detected a strip of pneumonia in my left lung and wants me to begin a 10-day antibiotic prescription.
$175 visit to the pharmacy some hours later, and I'm on the treatment plan! Taking the prednisone as well. OK, chemicals, do your thing and let me move on.... back to no prescription meds... please!
No energy, maybe a tad less coughing today, not doing much, hanging in there. No energy to read much or to do any of my art projects. Maybe tomorrow, eh?
Had a little burst of energy this morning during which I cleaned the kitchen sink, counters and stove top. Badly needed and very cheering to have it done.
Have to eat full meal for breakfast so I can take the prednisone on a full tummy. Not easy for me. I generally just have coffee with milk and 9 fiber-rich crackers. Toast and eggs seemed awfully heavy this morning. Plus I ate a bit more during the day than I generally do. Regular dinner, no problems there. Tomorrow I'll try just one egg and one piece of toast. Don't want to feel like a sausage in my new jeans!
* * * * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for the day: Doctors who care, rain flowing into our cisterns, Dirt, A Movie, and people who preserve and add to the earth's dirt, sleep, dreams (even the druggy ones), privacy, sight, clean sinks, OA meeting tomorrow morning
$175 visit to the pharmacy some hours later, and I'm on the treatment plan! Taking the prednisone as well. OK, chemicals, do your thing and let me move on.... back to no prescription meds... please!
No energy, maybe a tad less coughing today, not doing much, hanging in there. No energy to read much or to do any of my art projects. Maybe tomorrow, eh?
Had a little burst of energy this morning during which I cleaned the kitchen sink, counters and stove top. Badly needed and very cheering to have it done.
Have to eat full meal for breakfast so I can take the prednisone on a full tummy. Not easy for me. I generally just have coffee with milk and 9 fiber-rich crackers. Toast and eggs seemed awfully heavy this morning. Plus I ate a bit more during the day than I generally do. Regular dinner, no problems there. Tomorrow I'll try just one egg and one piece of toast. Don't want to feel like a sausage in my new jeans!
* * * * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for the day: Doctors who care, rain flowing into our cisterns, Dirt, A Movie, and people who preserve and add to the earth's dirt, sleep, dreams (even the druggy ones), privacy, sight, clean sinks, OA meeting tomorrow morning
It's Raining & I'm Still Coughing
No gripes about the rain! I love the rain and our plants, especially the trees, need it. I say "Yay, rain!"
Coughing is another matter. Went back to Clinic today (3rd time). Saw a new Doc. Very, very thorough exam this time, with chest X-rays. She took a thorough history and checked back through my records. Our last try before sending me to a specialist is to put me on a burst (5-day treatment) of prednisone. Her reasoning is that bronchial inflammation is the root of the problem.
I know there are possible side effects, even from taking a short course. We'll see what happens. If no significant improvement in 5 days, I go back. But we'll cross that bridge when we get there.
One of my OA friends said that increased appetite is a side-effect of prednisone, even in a short treatment time. I'll be aware of that, ready with water or tea. I'm crossing my fingers for this new remedy, because I'm worn out, aching, crabby and sick of it!
* * * * * *
Gratitude for today: thorough medical attention, unexpected opportunities, new challenges, rain, dance (especially So You Think You Can Dance), my husband's generosity
Coughing is another matter. Went back to Clinic today (3rd time). Saw a new Doc. Very, very thorough exam this time, with chest X-rays. She took a thorough history and checked back through my records. Our last try before sending me to a specialist is to put me on a burst (5-day treatment) of prednisone. Her reasoning is that bronchial inflammation is the root of the problem.
I know there are possible side effects, even from taking a short course. We'll see what happens. If no significant improvement in 5 days, I go back. But we'll cross that bridge when we get there.
One of my OA friends said that increased appetite is a side-effect of prednisone, even in a short treatment time. I'll be aware of that, ready with water or tea. I'm crossing my fingers for this new remedy, because I'm worn out, aching, crabby and sick of it!
* * * * * *
Gratitude for today: thorough medical attention, unexpected opportunities, new challenges, rain, dance (especially So You Think You Can Dance), my husband's generosity
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Still Coughing
I'm wondering if mindfulness can help my still persistent cough. I'm so tired of hacking and hacking. It makes my whole body hurt and it worries me as I roll into month three of this business. I vacillate between thinking I should go back to my Dr. for the third time and thinking I might be getting better and should just wait it out.
There doesn't seem to be a pattern... I have coughing fits in any place at any time.
My Dr. seemed so casual the last time I saw her, unconcerned almost.
OK, so back to mindfulness. Could I just be aware of the coughing, notice it, not judge it, notice my body reacting, my muscles working to make it happen? Could I stay calm and mindful about each cough?
In my years of Tai-Chi practice, one really valuable thing I learned was how to draw the healing energy from the universe, particularly from trees, into my body through my feet and legs, and then channel it to a specific place. Could I try to revive that practice, channeling the energy toward my bronchial passageways and lungs?
The answer to all of these questions is, yes. Yes, I will draw healing energy and be mindful.
* * * * * * * *
Today's gratitude: warmth of the sun, delicious lettuces from our garden, fresh fruits, picking and eating thimble berries, Sharon getting my haircut right this time, sitting on the deck enjoying our land.
There doesn't seem to be a pattern... I have coughing fits in any place at any time.
My Dr. seemed so casual the last time I saw her, unconcerned almost.
OK, so back to mindfulness. Could I just be aware of the coughing, notice it, not judge it, notice my body reacting, my muscles working to make it happen? Could I stay calm and mindful about each cough?
In my years of Tai-Chi practice, one really valuable thing I learned was how to draw the healing energy from the universe, particularly from trees, into my body through my feet and legs, and then channel it to a specific place. Could I try to revive that practice, channeling the energy toward my bronchial passageways and lungs?
The answer to all of these questions is, yes. Yes, I will draw healing energy and be mindful.
* * * * * * * *
Today's gratitude: warmth of the sun, delicious lettuces from our garden, fresh fruits, picking and eating thimble berries, Sharon getting my haircut right this time, sitting on the deck enjoying our land.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
..."Relieve Me of the Bondage of Self"....
I opened the topic for today's OA meeting by telling the group I had reached my stated goal, yet was experiencing very mixed emotions about it. In a jumbled way I mentioned these points:
For me, at the moment, it has something to do with the fences, walls, ladders and labels I surround myself with. I build walls and fences around me, which may protect me emotionally in some ways and which concurrently keep me in jail, away from discovery and change. I erect ladders that must be climbed, goal setting, yet the top of any ladder is not a stable place to stand. I label myself as fat, overweight, flabby and more, words that imprison me in discomfort.
Is this what bondage of self means? If so, I would gladly be relieved of all of it and so heartily pray.
* * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: rain last night and moss newly greened as a result, members of my OA group, fresh raspberries available now, having more energy after being sick for so long.
- I felt dismay at the reactions of some... My husband, for example, said "I wish I could lose some weight" and has seemed rather aloof and cold toward me since I told him.
- I still think of myself as "fat" or "overweight." What will it take to change that?
- What next? There's a "let-down" feeling following completion. I wonder how athletes handle it after they win, for example, a gold medal? What is my next step? What direction do I look now? Where is my next work?
- My achievement seems small and unimportant to me, especially compared to some I know (or know of) who have lost 90, 100, 200 pounds. What does my size 10 matter in the greater scheme of things?
- I understand that reaching my goal doesn't mean I am "cured." If I were to return to eating my binge foods, I would regress and gain all the weight back in record time. If I do not continue to practice one day at a time and yield my will to my higher power, I will be wearing size 18-20 jeans again very soon.
- I am afraid of complacency.
For me, at the moment, it has something to do with the fences, walls, ladders and labels I surround myself with. I build walls and fences around me, which may protect me emotionally in some ways and which concurrently keep me in jail, away from discovery and change. I erect ladders that must be climbed, goal setting, yet the top of any ladder is not a stable place to stand. I label myself as fat, overweight, flabby and more, words that imprison me in discomfort.
Is this what bondage of self means? If so, I would gladly be relieved of all of it and so heartily pray.
* * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: rain last night and moss newly greened as a result, members of my OA group, fresh raspberries available now, having more energy after being sick for so long.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Size 10 and Stuff
Size 10
A little over a year ago, I looked like an overstuffed sausage in my size 18 jeans. Today, I finally got my nerve readied to try on a pair of size 10 jeans. I've actually been thinking my 12s are a bit baggy for a while now. But it frightened me to try on 10s.
What if they actually fit? Would I have to accept myself the way I am? Would I have to stop thinking of myself as "still having a ways to go?" (That's what I always tell people who say I'm looking really skinny.)
Size 10 jeans and size medium tops... this has been my stated goal for a long time. What if I'm there?
Well, big news... I am! Size 10 in my style of jeans (Lee's classic straight leg) fits me perfectly. I can hardly believe it. I can not wipe the smile off my face. Daaaawgonnnne! Imagination that!
Now I have to consider the above questions. How will I think of myself? What will I say when folks say I'm lookin' good? Maybe just "Thank you!" Will this be a danger point for me in OA, a point of complacency about my food plan? Time will tell.
Me and My Stuff
Two months ago I wrote a post (here, half way down) about hoarding stuff. About that same time, I began to work on a piece of bead embroidery about me and my relationship to my stuff. Here's how it looks (click to enlarge):
This piece totally shocks me. It really does. I expected it to look all ugly and jumbled and messy, just as I feel about having too much stuff. Instead, it's full of life, playfulness, exuberance, fun... How can this be? From writing a poem off this piece, I learned something amazing about me and my stuff, about what it means to me and a lot about why I have so much of it. It's because I'm afraid of forgetting. I wrote about it on my art blog, here.
* * * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: car wash, size 10 jeans, long days, cool evenings, check marks on my "to do" list!
A little over a year ago, I looked like an overstuffed sausage in my size 18 jeans. Today, I finally got my nerve readied to try on a pair of size 10 jeans. I've actually been thinking my 12s are a bit baggy for a while now. But it frightened me to try on 10s.
What if they actually fit? Would I have to accept myself the way I am? Would I have to stop thinking of myself as "still having a ways to go?" (That's what I always tell people who say I'm looking really skinny.)
Size 10 jeans and size medium tops... this has been my stated goal for a long time. What if I'm there?
Well, big news... I am! Size 10 in my style of jeans (Lee's classic straight leg) fits me perfectly. I can hardly believe it. I can not wipe the smile off my face. Daaaawgonnnne! Imagination that!
Now I have to consider the above questions. How will I think of myself? What will I say when folks say I'm lookin' good? Maybe just "Thank you!" Will this be a danger point for me in OA, a point of complacency about my food plan? Time will tell.
Me and My Stuff
Two months ago I wrote a post (here, half way down) about hoarding stuff. About that same time, I began to work on a piece of bead embroidery about me and my relationship to my stuff. Here's how it looks (click to enlarge):
This piece totally shocks me. It really does. I expected it to look all ugly and jumbled and messy, just as I feel about having too much stuff. Instead, it's full of life, playfulness, exuberance, fun... How can this be? From writing a poem off this piece, I learned something amazing about me and my stuff, about what it means to me and a lot about why I have so much of it. It's because I'm afraid of forgetting. I wrote about it on my art blog, here.
* * * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: car wash, size 10 jeans, long days, cool evenings, check marks on my "to do" list!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Feeling a Tad Bit Better Today
Walking really helps lift my spirits!
I was having difficulty walking because we generally walk on a dirt road and whenever cars go by they raise a great cloud of dust particles that give me quite a coughing fit. The more times it happenes, the longer the fit and the worse I feel.
We took last Friday - Sunday off, hoping it would help... and it did... a little. Monday we walked on a paved road instead. Duh, why didn't we think of that sooner? Not as pretty a walk and somewhat more difficult because of steepness of the hills. But, with no dust, it went much better. So we did the same today, with almost no coughing as we walked!
Just getting out to walk and having it not be so fitful is a big boost to my moral. Maybe this bug is finally on its way out. I hope!
* * * * *
Reflecting on 257 days of abstinence, over a year of following a pretty healthy food plan through Overeaters Anonymous and nearly 4 years of a regular walking program, I'm thinking about how it all began with an attitude change. I don't even recall what brought about the change, probably many small things that added up at the right time and place. The change was a conscious decision to respect my body.
I'll say it again: I made a conscious decision to respect my body.
Below is a bead piece I did at that time. I found the feather on one of my first walks. The rock-like objects at the bottom are fossilized turtle shell, thousands of years old... gotta respect that! (Click on the picture to enlarge it.) I wrote more about this beadwork and the start of a big change here.
I wanted to lose weight. I wanted to be more fit. I wanted to like myself. If I had respect for myself (whether real or self-imposed), wouldn't I take care of these things? That was in August, 2007. I started to walk and I joined Weight Watchers on line. The walking stuck; the diet didn't.
It took me over two years of huge yo-yo swings, dieting and gaining it all back three times, before I stumbled onto Holy Hunger, which then got me into OA, the lifeline that keeps me off the yo-yo-coaster.
Reflecting on this today, I realize that I do, finally and authentically, respect my body.
* * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: my quilting girlfriends, fresh salad greens for supper right out of our garden, my husband's to do list, feathers, beads, sleep.
I was having difficulty walking because we generally walk on a dirt road and whenever cars go by they raise a great cloud of dust particles that give me quite a coughing fit. The more times it happenes, the longer the fit and the worse I feel.
We took last Friday - Sunday off, hoping it would help... and it did... a little. Monday we walked on a paved road instead. Duh, why didn't we think of that sooner? Not as pretty a walk and somewhat more difficult because of steepness of the hills. But, with no dust, it went much better. So we did the same today, with almost no coughing as we walked!
Just getting out to walk and having it not be so fitful is a big boost to my moral. Maybe this bug is finally on its way out. I hope!
* * * * *
Reflecting on 257 days of abstinence, over a year of following a pretty healthy food plan through Overeaters Anonymous and nearly 4 years of a regular walking program, I'm thinking about how it all began with an attitude change. I don't even recall what brought about the change, probably many small things that added up at the right time and place. The change was a conscious decision to respect my body.
I'll say it again: I made a conscious decision to respect my body.
Below is a bead piece I did at that time. I found the feather on one of my first walks. The rock-like objects at the bottom are fossilized turtle shell, thousands of years old... gotta respect that! (Click on the picture to enlarge it.) I wrote more about this beadwork and the start of a big change here.
I wanted to lose weight. I wanted to be more fit. I wanted to like myself. If I had respect for myself (whether real or self-imposed), wouldn't I take care of these things? That was in August, 2007. I started to walk and I joined Weight Watchers on line. The walking stuck; the diet didn't.
It took me over two years of huge yo-yo swings, dieting and gaining it all back three times, before I stumbled onto Holy Hunger, which then got me into OA, the lifeline that keeps me off the yo-yo-coaster.
Reflecting on this today, I realize that I do, finally and authentically, respect my body.
* * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: my quilting girlfriends, fresh salad greens for supper right out of our garden, my husband's to do list, feathers, beads, sleep.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Cough, cough, cough
I can't seem to get well... I've been sick for a month now, plagued with constant, harsh coughing fits that make me feel like my lungs are turning inside out. I have no energy. I don't sleep well. Been on antibiotics, which did take away the fever and lifted my energy level a little bit. But still the coughing continues.
So I went back to my Dr. again last week. After testing my lung power and listening to me breathe, she said I might have bronchial inflammation. She prescribed an inhaler, which so far hasn't helped at all. It does make me feel as though I consumed 17 consecutive shots of espresso... talk about the jitters. Yikes! Doesn't translate into productive energy, however.
Am I griping. You bet I am. Coughed through my OA meeting this morning. Talking always provokes a spell of coughing, as does even the slightest physical activity, reclining.
OK, stop with the gripes.
Speaking of OA, I've been working on a series of bead embroideries that represent intersections in my life. The one shown below, is about the intersection of me with my higher power.
Writing about it on my art blog, here, helped me to clarify my thoughts and beliefs about my higher power, especially about how it comes from outside of me rather than from within me.
* * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: not coughing at the moment, eating fresh-organic lettuces from our garden for dinner every night, hot tea, getting back to reading and writing blogs.
So I went back to my Dr. again last week. After testing my lung power and listening to me breathe, she said I might have bronchial inflammation. She prescribed an inhaler, which so far hasn't helped at all. It does make me feel as though I consumed 17 consecutive shots of espresso... talk about the jitters. Yikes! Doesn't translate into productive energy, however.
Am I griping. You bet I am. Coughed through my OA meeting this morning. Talking always provokes a spell of coughing, as does even the slightest physical activity, reclining.
OK, stop with the gripes.
Speaking of OA, I've been working on a series of bead embroideries that represent intersections in my life. The one shown below, is about the intersection of me with my higher power.
Writing about it on my art blog, here, helped me to clarify my thoughts and beliefs about my higher power, especially about how it comes from outside of me rather than from within me.
* * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: not coughing at the moment, eating fresh-organic lettuces from our garden for dinner every night, hot tea, getting back to reading and writing blogs.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Truth (?) about "Diets"
Overeaters Anonymous (OA) is not a diet or calorie club and does not endorse or recommend any particular food plan. Each participant is free to choose whatever food plan they wish and can alter the plan any time. At least that's my understanding of OA.
The key to loosing weight in OA has nothing to do with typical diet plans and everything to do with accepting individual patterns of food addiction.
For some, this doesn't seem so easy... maybe they're addicted to everything, or at least everything loaded with fat, sugar and salt. To some being abstinent on these foods would, in their addictive mind, leave nothing for them to eat and a horrible sense of denial sets in even as they contemplate the possibility of change. I know because I talked a lot about OA today with a person very, very dear to me. She can not fathom being able to survive without all the "junk foods" (my term, not hers) that constitute most of her daily intake. I'm sad to admit that nothing I said changed anything for her although she says she is miserable. I am horrified by the understanding of what her life must be like (and her life expectancy).
We did talk a little about our past experiences with diets and about how quickly we both regained every pound we lost, plus more. I told her about my husband and I watching a college course on healthy lifestyle (which I wrote about here). Last night, watching lecture #19 on fads and diets, Dr./Prof. Goodman had an interesting story about diets.
He told about going to a large bookstore and counting over 300 books with the word "Diet" in the title. "Why are there so many diet books," he asked? "Because not one of them works!" He rationed that IF one diet actually worked it would be the only book for sale. Word would get around that it works; everyone would buy that book and nobody would buy any of the other books. By this reasoning, there is no diet that works.
I just thought that was kind of funny. I guess one could just as easily conclude that they all work equally well.
Anyway trying to explain today how OA is not about a diet, trying to explain abstinence, food plan and higher power, I found myself a bit tongue-tied as I looked into the eyes of an addict, an addict who looked back at me with aversion and denial in her eyes. How far is bottom? I ask my higher power to help her and to help me help her... not to give up...
* * * * * *
Gratitude for today: rain, 238 consecutive days of abstinence, our adorable cat, that miraculously bottom for me wasn't morbid obesity and related illnesses, our local OA community
The key to loosing weight in OA has nothing to do with typical diet plans and everything to do with accepting individual patterns of food addiction.
For some, this doesn't seem so easy... maybe they're addicted to everything, or at least everything loaded with fat, sugar and salt. To some being abstinent on these foods would, in their addictive mind, leave nothing for them to eat and a horrible sense of denial sets in even as they contemplate the possibility of change. I know because I talked a lot about OA today with a person very, very dear to me. She can not fathom being able to survive without all the "junk foods" (my term, not hers) that constitute most of her daily intake. I'm sad to admit that nothing I said changed anything for her although she says she is miserable. I am horrified by the understanding of what her life must be like (and her life expectancy).
We did talk a little about our past experiences with diets and about how quickly we both regained every pound we lost, plus more. I told her about my husband and I watching a college course on healthy lifestyle (which I wrote about here). Last night, watching lecture #19 on fads and diets, Dr./Prof. Goodman had an interesting story about diets.
He told about going to a large bookstore and counting over 300 books with the word "Diet" in the title. "Why are there so many diet books," he asked? "Because not one of them works!" He rationed that IF one diet actually worked it would be the only book for sale. Word would get around that it works; everyone would buy that book and nobody would buy any of the other books. By this reasoning, there is no diet that works.
I just thought that was kind of funny. I guess one could just as easily conclude that they all work equally well.
Anyway trying to explain today how OA is not about a diet, trying to explain abstinence, food plan and higher power, I found myself a bit tongue-tied as I looked into the eyes of an addict, an addict who looked back at me with aversion and denial in her eyes. How far is bottom? I ask my higher power to help her and to help me help her... not to give up...
* * * * * *
Gratitude for today: rain, 238 consecutive days of abstinence, our adorable cat, that miraculously bottom for me wasn't morbid obesity and related illnesses, our local OA community
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
I Weighed Myself.....
Well, thanks readers for the good tips on how to feel better. Your well wishes and all must be working... maybe the antibiotics too... anyway, except for coughing spells from time to time (not so often, thank goodness), I'm feeling a lot better after three hits of the Azithromycin, which is my new, favorite antibiotic!
This morning, after a reasonable night's sleep (that means only waking myself up with a coughing fit three or four times, as opposed to every 10 minutes), I woke up thinking about things... chores, how the day might play out, a friend I had hoped to talk with on the phone last night (but didn't), normal morning thoughts.
Then, suddenly, the thought struck me to get out of bed and weigh myself.
Probably doesn't sound too weird, until you realize I haven't been on the scale but one time in over a year, since early April of 2010, after our return from a trip to the South West, where I pigged out every day. That fateful day, I weighed in at 232... not my all time high, but a jeans-squeezing, foot-busting, chipmunk-cheeks, rotundus-abundus, hate-myself, yo-y0 high nevertheless. It was still two weeks, and probably a few pounds more, before I realized I can not control my eating/binging and turned myself over to the care of a higher power and the loving community of our local OA group.
Since then, the only time I weighed was when I had my annual physical and was weighed (fully clothed with shoes) at the Doctor's office. Although I closed my eyes, the nurse said the number out loud. I think it was 187. At the time, I had mixed feelings about the number... good because it was a significant loss from when I started... not so good because I've been around 187 many times before, a number where I seem to hit the wall, often the bottom of the yo-yo drop. Therefore, I vowed to continue my no scale policy.
Until this morning. Don't know what got into me. The results? !66 (with full bladder and flannel nightgown). I was surprised. Thought it would be around 180. Feeling good about it. However, I think this will be the last scale visit for a while.
I don't like the pressure I immediately felt, the panic that the number might be low because of being sick, the fear that being this low (still overweight for my 5 ft. 8 inch frame, but no longer obese) will make me think I can go back to my old ways of eating, some other more personal fears related to the past and my attractiveness to men. No problem, fears! Just cool your jets, because we're not getting on that thing again for a loooooong time! No scale and all's well with PB!
This morning, after a reasonable night's sleep (that means only waking myself up with a coughing fit three or four times, as opposed to every 10 minutes), I woke up thinking about things... chores, how the day might play out, a friend I had hoped to talk with on the phone last night (but didn't), normal morning thoughts.
Then, suddenly, the thought struck me to get out of bed and weigh myself.
Probably doesn't sound too weird, until you realize I haven't been on the scale but one time in over a year, since early April of 2010, after our return from a trip to the South West, where I pigged out every day. That fateful day, I weighed in at 232... not my all time high, but a jeans-squeezing, foot-busting, chipmunk-cheeks, rotundus-abundus, hate-myself, yo-y0 high nevertheless. It was still two weeks, and probably a few pounds more, before I realized I can not control my eating/binging and turned myself over to the care of a higher power and the loving community of our local OA group.
Since then, the only time I weighed was when I had my annual physical and was weighed (fully clothed with shoes) at the Doctor's office. Although I closed my eyes, the nurse said the number out loud. I think it was 187. At the time, I had mixed feelings about the number... good because it was a significant loss from when I started... not so good because I've been around 187 many times before, a number where I seem to hit the wall, often the bottom of the yo-yo drop. Therefore, I vowed to continue my no scale policy.
Until this morning. Don't know what got into me. The results? !66 (with full bladder and flannel nightgown). I was surprised. Thought it would be around 180. Feeling good about it. However, I think this will be the last scale visit for a while.
I don't like the pressure I immediately felt, the panic that the number might be low because of being sick, the fear that being this low (still overweight for my 5 ft. 8 inch frame, but no longer obese) will make me think I can go back to my old ways of eating, some other more personal fears related to the past and my attractiveness to men. No problem, fears! Just cool your jets, because we're not getting on that thing again for a loooooong time! No scale and all's well with PB!
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Waiting for Antibiotics to Kick In
Six days of coughing, frequent coughing fits that made my whole chest burn, feeling like my lungs are turning inside out, sleeping only a brief time between the fits, and fever causing alternating sweats and chills, six days and finally I gave up and got my husband to drive me to the Dr. yesterday. Dr. put me on Azithromycin, which already, after just the first dose, seems to be helping to calm the symptoms, and prescribed some codeine cough syrup, which gave me 4 consecutive, blissful, cough-free hours of healing sleep last night.
Today I have zero energy, barely enough to write this post. My hands are shaking, little tremors, and my legs too. Laundry, grocery shopping, preparations for studio tour, gardening chores and much else will have to wait a little longer. But... I am a little better than yesterday and for that I'm grateful. So far, crossing my fingers, my husband seems to be holding to steady health. Dr. said I'll stop being contagious 24 hours after first dose of antibiotic, so by later this afternoon.
My husband tried to find somewhere to get some good chicken soup in town yesterday (bless him), but being unsuccessful, he bought a piece of baked chicken and a can of Progresso chicken soup, which I ate last evening, my first "meal" in several days. Akkkkk, canned soup is sooooooooooo salty! I couldn't finish it. I hope to feel well enough to grocery shop tomorrow and will make a crock pot of decent chicken soup! I should make some to put in the freezer for future health emergencies like this.
Gratitude for today: having no pressing commitments for the next week, antibiotics, the promise of seeing Lunnette and Christy a week from today, and the hope of getting back to walking soon.
Today I have zero energy, barely enough to write this post. My hands are shaking, little tremors, and my legs too. Laundry, grocery shopping, preparations for studio tour, gardening chores and much else will have to wait a little longer. But... I am a little better than yesterday and for that I'm grateful. So far, crossing my fingers, my husband seems to be holding to steady health. Dr. said I'll stop being contagious 24 hours after first dose of antibiotic, so by later this afternoon.
My husband tried to find somewhere to get some good chicken soup in town yesterday (bless him), but being unsuccessful, he bought a piece of baked chicken and a can of Progresso chicken soup, which I ate last evening, my first "meal" in several days. Akkkkk, canned soup is sooooooooooo salty! I couldn't finish it. I hope to feel well enough to grocery shop tomorrow and will make a crock pot of decent chicken soup! I should make some to put in the freezer for future health emergencies like this.
Gratitude for today: having no pressing commitments for the next week, antibiotics, the promise of seeing Lunnette and Christy a week from today, and the hope of getting back to walking soon.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Ah.... Home Again!!!
One day short of two weeks since I last wrote and now all of those stressful things are behind me, leaving me, however, with a respiratory infection (fever, chills, cough, aches everywhere) that kept me in bed for two whole days. Today I'm feeling better, although I'm still coughing my lungs inside out. (Hate that!)
The next stressful thing is two weekends from now, the Artists Studio Tour (which I posted about here, on my other blog). There will be snacks and treats for our guests and there will be times when there are no customers, when I'm bored and discouraged at the temporary lack of sales. Bored and discouraged... couldn't be two more aggressive triggers for binging and overeating.
However, I'm encouraged by the past two weeks, especially teaching a two-day class where the students brought the most delicious-looking treats, set out for all to share: M&Ms, candy shop chocolates and other special candies, home-made lemon bars and carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. Eeeeee-yike! That was a disaster waiting to happen. But I was good, sticking to my abstinence program and touching nary a crumb. True, I was neither bored nor discouraged while teaching this lively, talented group of women... so maybe I have nothing to crow about here.
By the way, thanks to readers who supported me with these stressful, back-to-back events, and who gave me great ideas and recipes for preparation of vegetarian meals. Our guest was very pleased and so was I!
Changes
My husband and I have been viewing several of The Great Courses recently and are now about 1/3 of the way into Lifelong Health: Achieving Optimum Well-Being at Any Age, by Professor Anthony Goodman. By the way, should anybody be interested in any of these courses, don't buy them from the website! Write or call to ask for a catalog and wait until they go on sale for 60 or 70% off.
Anyway, Prof Goodman has some excellent tips about health and change. Three that he repeats are:
The next stressful thing is two weekends from now, the Artists Studio Tour (which I posted about here, on my other blog). There will be snacks and treats for our guests and there will be times when there are no customers, when I'm bored and discouraged at the temporary lack of sales. Bored and discouraged... couldn't be two more aggressive triggers for binging and overeating.
However, I'm encouraged by the past two weeks, especially teaching a two-day class where the students brought the most delicious-looking treats, set out for all to share: M&Ms, candy shop chocolates and other special candies, home-made lemon bars and carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. Eeeeee-yike! That was a disaster waiting to happen. But I was good, sticking to my abstinence program and touching nary a crumb. True, I was neither bored nor discouraged while teaching this lively, talented group of women... so maybe I have nothing to crow about here.
By the way, thanks to readers who supported me with these stressful, back-to-back events, and who gave me great ideas and recipes for preparation of vegetarian meals. Our guest was very pleased and so was I!
Changes
My husband and I have been viewing several of The Great Courses recently and are now about 1/3 of the way into Lifelong Health: Achieving Optimum Well-Being at Any Age, by Professor Anthony Goodman. By the way, should anybody be interested in any of these courses, don't buy them from the website! Write or call to ask for a catalog and wait until they go on sale for 60 or 70% off.
Anyway, Prof Goodman has some excellent tips about health and change. Three that he repeats are:
- One Degree ~ change your course in one degree increments. Over a long period of time, even a one degree change will land you in a different place. I like this at lot. Nothing radical. For example, neither me nor my husband likes fish. So for our 13 years together, I have never cooked it for us. We recognize the need for fish oils in our diet, so we take supplements. The good Prof, doesn't recommend supplements, suggesting we get our vitamins, etc. from whole foods. Ugh... cooking fish. However, we don't need to do it every night. Just one night a week and a couple tuna salads for lunches will give us a 10 degree change. And that is significant over time!
- Goldilocks ~ choose the "bed" that fits you. Despite his recommendations about healthy lifestyle and foods, he suggests we always steer toward what fits us, our likes, dislikes, comfort zone. I like this too. He makes strong suggestions, but at the same time seems to understand and value that we know ourselves best.
- Whole Foods ~ Yep, I always knew it. But now with the Prof's persuasive language backed by scientific studies he sites, I see the whole value of whole foods. Again, just by making a shift a couple of nights a week, we can lean that way more with our diet.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Mixed Bag o' Feelings
Some guilt remorse about not posting or reading in this realm for too many days. Like the hummingbird drawn to the newest blooming flower, I've been ghost-writing a blog for my husband. Ha. That's not the truth. I'm writing it for me; he's not the least interested in it or in doing it. He calls it identity theft. He seems to be joking when he says that, but maybe there's a grain of truth in it.
We he started a garden. Truth is, I've never liked or been interested in or been good at growing plants. Parents did and next down brother is quite the purple thumb. Not me. So when we first talked about a garden, I basically said, "Count me out." He didn't particularly like my attitude, so we discussed it in counseling and agreed that I'd contribute 10% financially and in labor.
Behold and lo... Who is out there every day looking at the plants? Who is buying the plants and seeds? Who shoveled dirt and gravel and cleaned up after the workers? Who drilled the PVC pipes for the water reservoir? Who started the new blog (Rain Barrel Garden)? Me. Go figure. This I do not understand. Garden = fun? Does not compute, but somehow it mostly is. That's why the new blog I guess.
Challenges for eating. Last Saturday I had to be one of several hosts at a big community art function with a gigantic lavish of foods and snacks. I'm so shy and uncomfortable in situations like that. Akkkk... I went with the thought that I'd be abstinent on all edibles for the three hours. Didn't make it. Ate some fruit and a few crackers with cheese. Not too bad and none of my binge foods. That's good. Felt miserable there. Couldn't find the least little comfort zone. Just white-knuckled my way through the time and departed the second it was officially over. Maybe that's just how it is for me in social situations like that. Maybe I could learn to just say "no" when asked to do stuff like that...
Challenges causing stress. Friend from college visitingus me Wed-Fri. He and I were fairly close for 4 years, but have only seen each other one time since graduating in '64. He's vegetarian; we're not. Anybody got a good, easy to fix vegetarian main dish to recommend? My husband has no interest in meeting him and is already acting pissy toward me. Oh for fun! This is the last guest I will invite to our home. It just isn't worth the worry and stress that my husband might be unpleasant and rude to the guest; plus irritated with me. Why do I always forget how it goes down, and invite someone else?
Next on the list is a slide lecture that I have to do on Saturday, meaning I'll miss my OA meeting. Right now, I have need of my OA meetings, big need. Missing Saturday is not a good thing.
Then I'm home for one day, madly preparing to teach a two-day workshop a day's drive away. I'll leave Monday for that, teach Tuesday and Wednesday, drive back on Thursday. More stress; more temptation to handle stress with food; more anxiety about my husband's attitude. He doesn't like it when I'm gone. He doesn't like it when he's not the center of my attention.
I may have been guilty of playing into that in some sort of co-dependent way for many years. But it has worn very thin lately. Even with counseling, I'm still thinking about divorce, something I promised I wouldn't do for a year... a year that we would work on our relationship. Today it doesn't feel like it's working. Today I feel sad... and mad... and hopeless... and lonely.
There it is. I just named my feelings, for whatever it's worth.
Now, is there any good news to report? Yes, there is... I've been continuing to work on my clutter problem. THAT makes me feel good. I've got several boxes and bags ready for a garage sale (or maybe I'll just take them to the thrift store), lots of bags of recycling and lots of bags of garbage. The keepers are organized. Whohoooo! Not even half way done yet, but keeping at it and seeing light at the end of the tunnel! Also I put some of my bead art for sale on my website, posted about it on my art blog and have sold all but two of the pieces. This is really a good thing and makes me feel happy, satisfied, worthwhile.
So, it's a mixed bag o' feelings today. I probably won't post again until I return from teaching. Supportive cyber hugs and anti-binge vibes are appreciated!
Behold and lo... Who is out there every day looking at the plants? Who is buying the plants and seeds? Who shoveled dirt and gravel and cleaned up after the workers? Who drilled the PVC pipes for the water reservoir? Who started the new blog (Rain Barrel Garden)? Me. Go figure. This I do not understand. Garden = fun? Does not compute, but somehow it mostly is. That's why the new blog I guess.
Challenges for eating. Last Saturday I had to be one of several hosts at a big community art function with a gigantic lavish of foods and snacks. I'm so shy and uncomfortable in situations like that. Akkkk... I went with the thought that I'd be abstinent on all edibles for the three hours. Didn't make it. Ate some fruit and a few crackers with cheese. Not too bad and none of my binge foods. That's good. Felt miserable there. Couldn't find the least little comfort zone. Just white-knuckled my way through the time and departed the second it was officially over. Maybe that's just how it is for me in social situations like that. Maybe I could learn to just say "no" when asked to do stuff like that...
Challenges causing stress. Friend from college visiting
Next on the list is a slide lecture that I have to do on Saturday, meaning I'll miss my OA meeting. Right now, I have need of my OA meetings, big need. Missing Saturday is not a good thing.
Then I'm home for one day, madly preparing to teach a two-day workshop a day's drive away. I'll leave Monday for that, teach Tuesday and Wednesday, drive back on Thursday. More stress; more temptation to handle stress with food; more anxiety about my husband's attitude. He doesn't like it when I'm gone. He doesn't like it when he's not the center of my attention.
I may have been guilty of playing into that in some sort of co-dependent way for many years. But it has worn very thin lately. Even with counseling, I'm still thinking about divorce, something I promised I wouldn't do for a year... a year that we would work on our relationship. Today it doesn't feel like it's working. Today I feel sad... and mad... and hopeless... and lonely.
There it is. I just named my feelings, for whatever it's worth.
Now, is there any good news to report? Yes, there is... I've been continuing to work on my clutter problem. THAT makes me feel good. I've got several boxes and bags ready for a garage sale (or maybe I'll just take them to the thrift store), lots of bags of recycling and lots of bags of garbage. The keepers are organized. Whohoooo! Not even half way done yet, but keeping at it and seeing light at the end of the tunnel! Also I put some of my bead art for sale on my website, posted about it on my art blog and have sold all but two of the pieces. This is really a good thing and makes me feel happy, satisfied, worthwhile.
So, it's a mixed bag o' feelings today. I probably won't post again until I return from teaching. Supportive cyber hugs and anti-binge vibes are appreciated!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Ten Good Things about Me
After reading my last post, coral-seas commented that she'd like me to write a list of ten good things about me. Seems like a good challenge, so guess I'll try it.
Oh, yeah, and I'll curb my instinct to be flippant or shallow about it. Ten good things about me, Peacefulbird:
* * * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: Rain filling our cisterns, beautiful beads from far away places, having what I need when I want to make something, bunnies, Julie and Lunnette (both sent me bunny cards in the mail that came today).
Oh, yeah, and I'll curb my instinct to be flippant or shallow about it. Ten good things about me, Peacefulbird:
- I tend to be a peace-maker in my family, with neighbors, among friends. I value peace over being right and try to help others see peaceful solutions and compromises when they are in conflict.
- I trust most people most of the time. I believe their intent is good and that that they are honest.
- I like most people and most animals.
- Although I can sometimes make harsh judgements about people, I'm open to changing my mind, willing to give them the benefit of the doubt long enough to find reasons for reversing my negative opinion.
- I can be trusted with secrets and rarely gossip about others.
- I respect differences. Different styles, tastes, appearances, opinions, histories, countries are of interest to me. I have always liked learning about and exchanging ideas with people who live differently than I do.
- I am a loyal friend to my inner-circle of close friends and family members.
- I am generous with my time and knowledge.
- I love to laugh and am a good foil for people who know how to be funny, like my husband and many of my friends.
- I am adventurous by nature, intrepid about just doing it, whatever it is.
* * * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: Rain filling our cisterns, beautiful beads from far away places, having what I need when I want to make something, bunnies, Julie and Lunnette (both sent me bunny cards in the mail that came today).
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
When I'm Stuck...
Off and on, for about 20 years, I've been writing morning pages... well, sort of like morning pages. Technically speaking, according to Julia Cameron in the Artist's Way, we need to write every day (did for a few months, rarely since then), in the morning (rarely), three full pages (often four) and in longhand (half the time on my computer). The only part I do consistently is write from my stream of consciousness, uncensored... whatever comes along gets written.
When I get stuck, I often write, "What am I blocking; what don't I want to write?" And that seems to bring forth whatever it is.
Tonight when I signed in, I realized I haven't posted here for four days. Stuck. What am I blocking; what don't I want to write? I don't want to write about failures. I don't want to write about how it feels like I'm slipping in so many areas. I don't want to write about how I get insights about how to live more mindfully, with more gratitude, with less clutter, with more honesty and above all with less overeating. I have a moment or two of compliance.
Then I slip, slop, slide down the hill into my old ways.
My sister-in-law is in a mindfulness group, learning how to eat mindfully among other things. She takes time before eating to smell her foods and to look at them with appreciation. She takes time to give thanks to every growing/living thing that contributed to her meal. She swallows every bite completely before putting more in her mouth.
What a great way to eat, eh? Yes! I remembered to eat like that only one time. I don't want to write about all the times I start a program that obviously will benefit me, then fall away from it. I don't want to write about how falling away from one thing contributes to falling away from others.
I don't want to write about how much I need to embrace imperfection. I guess there's a part of me, maybe even a big part of me, that wants to be perfect. A dear OA friend gave me a book on that subject*... maybe it will help. I seem to be in a critical, judgmental mood tonight. Antidote: list 10 things I'm grateful for...
I'm still feeling stuck and critical, but maybe a little less so.
*The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown. One thing she says that makes a lot of sense to me is that "shame loves secrecy." Maybe that's part of the reason why both an AA-based program and blogging help me. I can't live in hiding, in a state of shame, so much when I blog and go to meetings.
When I get stuck, I often write, "What am I blocking; what don't I want to write?" And that seems to bring forth whatever it is.
Tonight when I signed in, I realized I haven't posted here for four days. Stuck. What am I blocking; what don't I want to write? I don't want to write about failures. I don't want to write about how it feels like I'm slipping in so many areas. I don't want to write about how I get insights about how to live more mindfully, with more gratitude, with less clutter, with more honesty and above all with less overeating. I have a moment or two of compliance.
Then I slip, slop, slide down the hill into my old ways.
My sister-in-law is in a mindfulness group, learning how to eat mindfully among other things. She takes time before eating to smell her foods and to look at them with appreciation. She takes time to give thanks to every growing/living thing that contributed to her meal. She swallows every bite completely before putting more in her mouth.
What a great way to eat, eh? Yes! I remembered to eat like that only one time. I don't want to write about all the times I start a program that obviously will benefit me, then fall away from it. I don't want to write about how falling away from one thing contributes to falling away from others.
I don't want to write about how much I need to embrace imperfection. I guess there's a part of me, maybe even a big part of me, that wants to be perfect. A dear OA friend gave me a book on that subject*... maybe it will help. I seem to be in a critical, judgmental mood tonight. Antidote: list 10 things I'm grateful for...
- sunshine today
- my two quilting-beading-stitching buddies
- shooting star flowers
- all the beautiful colors and textures of moss
- people who work diligently, carefully and cleanly
- our cat
- people I don't even know who support my artistic process
- morning pages
- a book on embracing imperfection
- my husband
I'm still feeling stuck and critical, but maybe a little less so.
*The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown. One thing she says that makes a lot of sense to me is that "shame loves secrecy." Maybe that's part of the reason why both an AA-based program and blogging help me. I can't live in hiding, in a state of shame, so much when I blog and go to meetings.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Just ONE Little Degree...
Baby steps.
Often, a course change of just one degree is all it takes for significant results.
I'm thinking about a ship sailing from Seattle to Singapore. This ship has a compass course that it must follow. A one degree change in course would not be significant or noticeable in one hour of sailing. It might not even be noticeable in a half a day of sailing. But keep on that course for several days, and you'd be sailing toward some other destination.
In other words, very small alterations in course, over the long haul can make a significant difference. Case in point is my daily, 12-minute arm-toning routine, which I do holding socks filled with rolls of pennies. It seems almost too insignificant to count, so unimportant that it hardly matters if I do it or not. NOT true! After some months, I notice my arms are looking much less flabby, in fact, one might even say not bad for a woman my age and weight. It was only a one degree course change, yet the new destination is lookin' good!
What this proves to me is that I don't need to make huge changes in behavior, attitudes or habits. Consistency of a very minor adjustment over a period of time will result in significant progress. I like knowing this!!!
* * * * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: my neighbor's hens and rooster, eggs, women friends, not having to wear a jacket when I walked today, two fantastic workers who are building us a garden fence and pads for our horse trough garden beds.
Often, a course change of just one degree is all it takes for significant results.
I'm thinking about a ship sailing from Seattle to Singapore. This ship has a compass course that it must follow. A one degree change in course would not be significant or noticeable in one hour of sailing. It might not even be noticeable in a half a day of sailing. But keep on that course for several days, and you'd be sailing toward some other destination.
In other words, very small alterations in course, over the long haul can make a significant difference. Case in point is my daily, 12-minute arm-toning routine, which I do holding socks filled with rolls of pennies. It seems almost too insignificant to count, so unimportant that it hardly matters if I do it or not. NOT true! After some months, I notice my arms are looking much less flabby, in fact, one might even say not bad for a woman my age and weight. It was only a one degree course change, yet the new destination is lookin' good!
What this proves to me is that I don't need to make huge changes in behavior, attitudes or habits. Consistency of a very minor adjustment over a period of time will result in significant progress. I like knowing this!!!
* * * * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: my neighbor's hens and rooster, eggs, women friends, not having to wear a jacket when I walked today, two fantastic workers who are building us a garden fence and pads for our horse trough garden beds.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
A Gazillion Lies About Food
Still on the subject of telling lies. Thinking about some of the lies I've told about food... to people I don't know, to store clerks, to close friends, to family, to myself. Just for fun, here are a couple of them...
Lie told to a very close woman friend about 2 years ago
On my way to her house to have a pot-luck lunch with a couple of my quilting friends, I stopped at the grocery store to buy a roasted chicken. Cookies there calling me loudly. Like home-made and only $1.00 for three of the lovelies with macadamia nuts and white chocolate. So I bought a dozen. Got in my car with cookies and chicken, opened cookie bag, chowed one down. Ate another while driving. Was almost to friend's house, but wanted to eat a couple more (this was becoming an uncontrollable binge). Parked my car by the side of the road, ducked my head down, and ate cookies, one after another.
Meanwhile, my friend, driving from a work errand in town, passed my car and recognized it. With 6 remaining cookies, I arrived a few minutes later at her house. "What were you doing parked by the side of the road?" she asked. "Wasn't me." I replied. "Looked like your car," she said. "Nope, guess there are a lot of blue Honda Civics, huh." Flat out lie.
Since starting OA, I told her about that lie and apologized. Feel better about it now.
One of many lies I've told my husband about me and food
Because of having a family that has suffered greatly from alcohol abuse, my husband understands about addiction. When we met 14 years ago, long before OA, I knew I was addicted to chocolate. At times I would go abstinent on chocolate and when I met him was one of those times. We shared that we were both abstinent on alcohol and for me, also chocolate. This was a good bond for us.
A couple years later, I slipped on the chocolate. I thought I could have it just one time, at one special occasion, which of course set me off rolling down the slope of more and more chocolate, more and more binging. But I didn't tell my husband. First lie... lie of omission.
In order to maintain that lie, I had to sneak my chocolate. I had to tell many lies to hide my daily chocolate fixes. One time we were waiting for the ferry and I HAD to have a fix. Standing at the vendor, paying for a bag of M & Ms, my husband walked in, surprising me and catching me in the act. "I'm buying these for you! And they were supposed to be a surprise," I said, covering for my irritated attitude at being caught.
It's a fact...
I have a history of telling a lot of lies concerning my behavior around food, little lies and big whoppers. It makes me feel creepy when I do it; and it makes me feel creepy now to admit it, to write about it, to remember some of them.
I prefer to think of myself as a fundamentally honest person. Honesty is something our parents and teachers encouraged. Honesty is something I admire in others.
So, what's under the lies? What do they have in common? Mostly, I think, I lie to conceal behaviors for which I feel shame. I have a great deal of shame around not being normal about food, about not being able to control what and how much I eat, and around my weight, about my size and shape and at times obesity.
Shame is under the lies. What is under shame? Is it fear? I think so. Fear of not being loveable, fear of death, fear of loneliness, fear of being wrong, fear of ultimate failure as a human being.
Today, I accept the fear. It is real and it is part of me. I accept.
********
Gratitude: shooting stars just starting to bloom, quilting friends, OA
Lie told to a very close woman friend about 2 years ago
On my way to her house to have a pot-luck lunch with a couple of my quilting friends, I stopped at the grocery store to buy a roasted chicken. Cookies there calling me loudly. Like home-made and only $1.00 for three of the lovelies with macadamia nuts and white chocolate. So I bought a dozen. Got in my car with cookies and chicken, opened cookie bag, chowed one down. Ate another while driving. Was almost to friend's house, but wanted to eat a couple more (this was becoming an uncontrollable binge). Parked my car by the side of the road, ducked my head down, and ate cookies, one after another.
Meanwhile, my friend, driving from a work errand in town, passed my car and recognized it. With 6 remaining cookies, I arrived a few minutes later at her house. "What were you doing parked by the side of the road?" she asked. "Wasn't me." I replied. "Looked like your car," she said. "Nope, guess there are a lot of blue Honda Civics, huh." Flat out lie.
Since starting OA, I told her about that lie and apologized. Feel better about it now.
One of many lies I've told my husband about me and food
Because of having a family that has suffered greatly from alcohol abuse, my husband understands about addiction. When we met 14 years ago, long before OA, I knew I was addicted to chocolate. At times I would go abstinent on chocolate and when I met him was one of those times. We shared that we were both abstinent on alcohol and for me, also chocolate. This was a good bond for us.
A couple years later, I slipped on the chocolate. I thought I could have it just one time, at one special occasion, which of course set me off rolling down the slope of more and more chocolate, more and more binging. But I didn't tell my husband. First lie... lie of omission.
In order to maintain that lie, I had to sneak my chocolate. I had to tell many lies to hide my daily chocolate fixes. One time we were waiting for the ferry and I HAD to have a fix. Standing at the vendor, paying for a bag of M & Ms, my husband walked in, surprising me and catching me in the act. "I'm buying these for you! And they were supposed to be a surprise," I said, covering for my irritated attitude at being caught.
It's a fact...
I have a history of telling a lot of lies concerning my behavior around food, little lies and big whoppers. It makes me feel creepy when I do it; and it makes me feel creepy now to admit it, to write about it, to remember some of them.
I prefer to think of myself as a fundamentally honest person. Honesty is something our parents and teachers encouraged. Honesty is something I admire in others.
So, what's under the lies? What do they have in common? Mostly, I think, I lie to conceal behaviors for which I feel shame. I have a great deal of shame around not being normal about food, about not being able to control what and how much I eat, and around my weight, about my size and shape and at times obesity.
Shame is under the lies. What is under shame? Is it fear? I think so. Fear of not being loveable, fear of death, fear of loneliness, fear of being wrong, fear of ultimate failure as a human being.
Today, I accept the fear. It is real and it is part of me. I accept.
********
Gratitude: shooting stars just starting to bloom, quilting friends, OA
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Little Lies
Been stuck for about 8 months. Not gaining weight, but no loss either. In OA, very aware of the 12-step recovery program, yet not getting past the 3rd step, thinking about the fourth step, but not really doing it. Maybe I'm afraid of what I'll find when I start taking an honest look at my defects of character. Maybe I'm stuck because I want to do it "right."
The exact wording of the 4th step is: 4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. Reading the AA "Big Book" and some OA guides, I see there are various ways to approach the inventory, all having in common that it should be written. Most suggest that we look at the problem areas in our lives and identify things we do that get us into trouble. I guess there are probably as many diverse ways to approach step 4 as there are people doing it. That's the key to getting past being stuck: just do it.
OK, so I've started writing about lies, about me telling fibs or lies.
For example, I've always lied about my weight. Never once have I told the correct weight when I've renewed my driver's license, always at least 20 pounds less than my actual weight. Never have I given my true weight when arranging a flight in a small plane. While this is probably common, especially among people who are overweight, it bothers me that I do it. It's being deceitful to myself and contributes to double shame, first that I am overweight and second that I lie about it.
Another example is telling lies to exaggerate, to make a better sounding story or to make myself seem better, more important, wiser. These are little twists of truth, starting with a kernel of truth, but get bigger and/or better than the actual truth, just a little embellishment here or there. Well, I don't like that about myself. Sometimes, hearing myself telling fibs of exaggeration, part of me wants to run away and hide from embarrassment.
A third example is telling lies to cover up mistakes, especially when I'm late or have not responded to an outside contact in a timely manner, in other words, to cover my procrastination. Some months ago, I was writing a delayed response to an email. A fib started rolling out about why it was taking me so long to respond. I paused thinking, "No! I don't have to make excuses. I only need to apologize for my tardiness." Since then, I've been telling cover-up lies much less often.
These are the little lies. There are a few big ones in my past. I'm going to write about them too, only not publicly on my blog. This is my 4th step starting point. I see a great deal of comfort and satisfaction down the road in not telling big or little lies anymore, because to stop means I will have to accept myself the way I am and be willing to be imperfect, to make mistakes and forgive myself.
* * * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: my husband, riding my motorcycle, sunshine
The exact wording of the 4th step is: 4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. Reading the AA "Big Book" and some OA guides, I see there are various ways to approach the inventory, all having in common that it should be written. Most suggest that we look at the problem areas in our lives and identify things we do that get us into trouble. I guess there are probably as many diverse ways to approach step 4 as there are people doing it. That's the key to getting past being stuck: just do it.
OK, so I've started writing about lies, about me telling fibs or lies.
For example, I've always lied about my weight. Never once have I told the correct weight when I've renewed my driver's license, always at least 20 pounds less than my actual weight. Never have I given my true weight when arranging a flight in a small plane. While this is probably common, especially among people who are overweight, it bothers me that I do it. It's being deceitful to myself and contributes to double shame, first that I am overweight and second that I lie about it.
Another example is telling lies to exaggerate, to make a better sounding story or to make myself seem better, more important, wiser. These are little twists of truth, starting with a kernel of truth, but get bigger and/or better than the actual truth, just a little embellishment here or there. Well, I don't like that about myself. Sometimes, hearing myself telling fibs of exaggeration, part of me wants to run away and hide from embarrassment.
A third example is telling lies to cover up mistakes, especially when I'm late or have not responded to an outside contact in a timely manner, in other words, to cover my procrastination. Some months ago, I was writing a delayed response to an email. A fib started rolling out about why it was taking me so long to respond. I paused thinking, "No! I don't have to make excuses. I only need to apologize for my tardiness." Since then, I've been telling cover-up lies much less often.
These are the little lies. There are a few big ones in my past. I'm going to write about them too, only not publicly on my blog. This is my 4th step starting point. I see a great deal of comfort and satisfaction down the road in not telling big or little lies anymore, because to stop means I will have to accept myself the way I am and be willing to be imperfect, to make mistakes and forgive myself.
* * * * * * * *
Gratitude for today: my husband, riding my motorcycle, sunshine
Friday, April 15, 2011
Embrace the Tension of Opposites
At the end of our marriage counseling session today, our counselor gave us a pearl!
Mostly we talked about how to handle the times when we have strongly different opinions on something that requires action. These are the times of our worst arguments, the times when both of us start thinking about leaving our marriage. How can we have our differences and come to a resolution without resentments, anger and hurt?
We had discussed a recent episode between us, what we did that worked, how we might have done some things differently. We had talked about approaching differences as a team, a team with solid affiliation working together to solve a problem.
Then at the very end, reaching out her two hands, palms up, hands cupped as though holding something, she told us to embrace our differences, to hold onto the tension of our polarities because out of them can come a new place, a new, transcendent thought or solution born of our opposing differences.
Her suggestion, a practical application of Carl Jung's transcendent function, seems like an important key for us. I think we've always tried to get rid of the opposition, to destroy one or the other position as soon as possible. In the destruction of one of the positions, the other takes over, the holder becoming the winner, the other the resentful and angry looser.
So the way I understand her words is that if we can hold the tension, allow it the freedom to exist, shuffle back and forth between the opposites for long enough, we'll transcend both positions in favor of creating a new and jointly acceptable position. I wonder, did Jung really get it? Worth a try!
* * * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for the day: spring rain, good counselors, a call from my dearest friend, walking with the pups during a sun-break, health, bumble bees, blooming hellebore
Mostly we talked about how to handle the times when we have strongly different opinions on something that requires action. These are the times of our worst arguments, the times when both of us start thinking about leaving our marriage. How can we have our differences and come to a resolution without resentments, anger and hurt?
We had discussed a recent episode between us, what we did that worked, how we might have done some things differently. We had talked about approaching differences as a team, a team with solid affiliation working together to solve a problem.
Then at the very end, reaching out her two hands, palms up, hands cupped as though holding something, she told us to embrace our differences, to hold onto the tension of our polarities because out of them can come a new place, a new, transcendent thought or solution born of our opposing differences.
Her suggestion, a practical application of Carl Jung's transcendent function, seems like an important key for us. I think we've always tried to get rid of the opposition, to destroy one or the other position as soon as possible. In the destruction of one of the positions, the other takes over, the holder becoming the winner, the other the resentful and angry looser.
So the way I understand her words is that if we can hold the tension, allow it the freedom to exist, shuffle back and forth between the opposites for long enough, we'll transcend both positions in favor of creating a new and jointly acceptable position. I wonder, did Jung really get it? Worth a try!
* * * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for the day: spring rain, good counselors, a call from my dearest friend, walking with the pups during a sun-break, health, bumble bees, blooming hellebore
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Thoughts on Being Connected
Our telephone line has been out all day. No dial tone. No way to call anybody or receive calls. Cell phones don't work on the island, except in town (6 miles one way) or at the resort (6 miles the other way). When we have a phone problem, which is frequently, it generally affects our whole neighborhood community as well. So we can't use the neighbor's phone to report the problem. Eventually one of us goes to town and calls the phone company, which responds (in their own sloooow good time) by sending a technician to repair something in the main relay box by the fire department sub-station.
For a day or two (sometimes more), we have no phone. During these times, I notice restless and uneasy feelings set in. I used to worry that someone in my family might be trying to reach me about my mom. Now I just worry.
Wasn't always like this. I used to go back-country hiking nearly every weekend and never give a thought to not being connected to the rest of the world. My world was smaller then. I had my parents across the country in Minnesota and talked to them on the phone every other month or so. At Christmas I called my parents when I knew my brothers would be there and talked to each of them for a few minutes... my once a year contact. I had a couple of close friends, colleagues at work and dance friends. That's about it. No Facebook. No email. No blogging friends. Rare long-distance phone calls to keep me connected with my family.
Was it better? I don't really know. Easier and more simple? Yes, I think so. Certainly I wouldn't have gone into worry-mode if the phone wasn't working.
A blogging acquaintance, someone I've never met or talked with in person, wrote that she thinks we'd be better off dropping Facebook and all our Internet connections in order to dedicate ourselves to a few, important, deeper relationships. That's an interesting thought. But could it ever be a two-way deal? Isn't nearly everyone glued to their cyber-connections and phones these days?
One of my husband's issues with me, as stated in counseling, is that I spend a lot of time with my back to him.... that is... on the computer... blogging, playing cards, emailing. Is it just possible that the blessing in our current phone disconnect is all about deeper connections, turning my attention away from the phone and toward him?
* * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for the day: beautiful batik fabrics, the smell of baking potatoes, the fire in our wood stove, Susan's stories about Bhutan
For a day or two (sometimes more), we have no phone. During these times, I notice restless and uneasy feelings set in. I used to worry that someone in my family might be trying to reach me about my mom. Now I just worry.
Wasn't always like this. I used to go back-country hiking nearly every weekend and never give a thought to not being connected to the rest of the world. My world was smaller then. I had my parents across the country in Minnesota and talked to them on the phone every other month or so. At Christmas I called my parents when I knew my brothers would be there and talked to each of them for a few minutes... my once a year contact. I had a couple of close friends, colleagues at work and dance friends. That's about it. No Facebook. No email. No blogging friends. Rare long-distance phone calls to keep me connected with my family.
Was it better? I don't really know. Easier and more simple? Yes, I think so. Certainly I wouldn't have gone into worry-mode if the phone wasn't working.
A blogging acquaintance, someone I've never met or talked with in person, wrote that she thinks we'd be better off dropping Facebook and all our Internet connections in order to dedicate ourselves to a few, important, deeper relationships. That's an interesting thought. But could it ever be a two-way deal? Isn't nearly everyone glued to their cyber-connections and phones these days?
One of my husband's issues with me, as stated in counseling, is that I spend a lot of time with my back to him.... that is... on the computer... blogging, playing cards, emailing. Is it just possible that the blessing in our current phone disconnect is all about deeper connections, turning my attention away from the phone and toward him?
* * * * * * * * *
Gratitude for the day: beautiful batik fabrics, the smell of baking potatoes, the fire in our wood stove, Susan's stories about Bhutan
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
A Year in OA and Hoarding Stuff
Two topics on my mind tonight...
A Year in Overeaters Anonymous
I've been going to OA for a year now, though it seems like lots less than that. I've never been to a meeting that didn't help me, contribute to my newly developing sense of inner harmony and peace of mind, make me feel accepted. Like they say, "Welcome to Overeaters Anonymous; welcome home." Always somebody says something that clarifies an attitude, an action, or a reaction for me. My gratitude for each person in my small group is immense.
My abstinence program regarding certain foods (cake, candy, chocolate, cookies, pie, ice cream and pastries) is solid. 194 days of perfect abstinence on that score! No regrets. No misgivings. Rarely tempted. Not feeling deprived. Happy to not eat any of it, ever! This was a 360 degree change from 60 years of binging on chocolate and the rest of them every chance I could get (not an exaggeration).
My abstinence program regarding my meal plan is not going so well. In fact, not going well at all. In the past few months, I've observed a steady increase in both portion size and snacking. I think the way to get back on track is to work the OA steps. I'm hung up on the 4th step. Maybe I need to return to the first 3 and then approach step 4 in a refreshed state of mind. My spiritual recovery is stagnate. I'll try to write more about that in my next post.
So, looking at the year as a whole, I see a much thinner, much happier me, who is now needing to take new pathways into the program.
Hoarding Stuff
I'm currently reading a very interesting book called, Stuff, Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things by Randy Frost and Gail Steketee. Bringing a clinical psychology background to their ten-year study of compulsive hoarding, the authors present case histories and their personal impressions about this problem that may affect more people than we realize. While we all keep stuff we don't need or use, the authors say it's only a problem if it makes us miserable, if it "causes substantial distress or interference in every-day living."
The book is a good read, well-written, sensitive, courageous. I saw it in a bookstore and paid full retail because I couldn't wait to get it through Amazon. Why? Because I hoard stuff, stuff I don't need or use or want. Always it bothers me. Always I wish I could give or throw it away. Do I have stacks reaching the ceiling? Only in my closets. Do I have a warehouse full of stuff? No. Have I filed bankruptcy because I overspend my income? No. Has my husband threatened divorce because of my clutter? No; at least not yet.
But (and this is a BIG BUT), what I do have bothers me A LOT). I'm looking for a little help from this book. The authors say that fixing the problem takes "heroic effort." Three ideas regarding a fix are helping me already:
1. I am practicing a total shift in my decision-making process in reaction to the sight of a desired possession. Rather than narrow and focus my attention on the thing, I expand my attention to consider how this object "fits into the fabric" of my life. Expand rather than narrow my attention... that's an important key I think.
2. This one again involves the desire to acquire new stuff. Each time an opportunity to acquire stuff comes along, I ask myself "When will I use it? Do I have anything like it already?" and "Do I have a place to put it?"
3. Already the above have made a difference in my level of new acquisitions. However, disposing of the stuff I already have is an entirely different and much more difficult matter. I find that like more serious hoarders, I attach great value to my stuff. I think of it as potential, exciting and worthwhile, things I can use to make my art, things that I can do or learn from someday. To my eyes, my stuff also has sentimental meaning. Like many hoarders, I seem to derive a sense of self from my stuff, my collections, my supplies, and my piles of inspiration. Gaining a better understanding of this from the book may help me to let some of it go, to find potential and value in myself rather than my stuff.
Each chapter begins with a quote. Here's one I like a lot by William James:
* * * * *
Gratitude for today: longer days, my special surrogate-granddaughter, my husband, red roses
A Year in Overeaters Anonymous
I've been going to OA for a year now, though it seems like lots less than that. I've never been to a meeting that didn't help me, contribute to my newly developing sense of inner harmony and peace of mind, make me feel accepted. Like they say, "Welcome to Overeaters Anonymous; welcome home." Always somebody says something that clarifies an attitude, an action, or a reaction for me. My gratitude for each person in my small group is immense.
My abstinence program regarding certain foods (cake, candy, chocolate, cookies, pie, ice cream and pastries) is solid. 194 days of perfect abstinence on that score! No regrets. No misgivings. Rarely tempted. Not feeling deprived. Happy to not eat any of it, ever! This was a 360 degree change from 60 years of binging on chocolate and the rest of them every chance I could get (not an exaggeration).
My abstinence program regarding my meal plan is not going so well. In fact, not going well at all. In the past few months, I've observed a steady increase in both portion size and snacking. I think the way to get back on track is to work the OA steps. I'm hung up on the 4th step. Maybe I need to return to the first 3 and then approach step 4 in a refreshed state of mind. My spiritual recovery is stagnate. I'll try to write more about that in my next post.
So, looking at the year as a whole, I see a much thinner, much happier me, who is now needing to take new pathways into the program.
Hoarding Stuff
I'm currently reading a very interesting book called, Stuff, Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things by Randy Frost and Gail Steketee. Bringing a clinical psychology background to their ten-year study of compulsive hoarding, the authors present case histories and their personal impressions about this problem that may affect more people than we realize. While we all keep stuff we don't need or use, the authors say it's only a problem if it makes us miserable, if it "causes substantial distress or interference in every-day living."
The book is a good read, well-written, sensitive, courageous. I saw it in a bookstore and paid full retail because I couldn't wait to get it through Amazon. Why? Because I hoard stuff, stuff I don't need or use or want. Always it bothers me. Always I wish I could give or throw it away. Do I have stacks reaching the ceiling? Only in my closets. Do I have a warehouse full of stuff? No. Have I filed bankruptcy because I overspend my income? No. Has my husband threatened divorce because of my clutter? No; at least not yet.
But (and this is a BIG BUT), what I do have bothers me A LOT). I'm looking for a little help from this book. The authors say that fixing the problem takes "heroic effort." Three ideas regarding a fix are helping me already:
1. I am practicing a total shift in my decision-making process in reaction to the sight of a desired possession. Rather than narrow and focus my attention on the thing, I expand my attention to consider how this object "fits into the fabric" of my life. Expand rather than narrow my attention... that's an important key I think.
2. This one again involves the desire to acquire new stuff. Each time an opportunity to acquire stuff comes along, I ask myself "When will I use it? Do I have anything like it already?" and "Do I have a place to put it?"
3. Already the above have made a difference in my level of new acquisitions. However, disposing of the stuff I already have is an entirely different and much more difficult matter. I find that like more serious hoarders, I attach great value to my stuff. I think of it as potential, exciting and worthwhile, things I can use to make my art, things that I can do or learn from someday. To my eyes, my stuff also has sentimental meaning. Like many hoarders, I seem to derive a sense of self from my stuff, my collections, my supplies, and my piles of inspiration. Gaining a better understanding of this from the book may help me to let some of it go, to find potential and value in myself rather than my stuff.
Each chapter begins with a quote. Here's one I like a lot by William James:
It is clear that between what a man calls me and what he simply calls mine the line is difficult to draw. We feel and act about certain things that are ours very much as we feel and act about ourselves.
* * * * *
Gratitude for today: longer days, my special surrogate-granddaughter, my husband, red roses
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Parts of Me
Ready to flow back into the world again, at least mostly. Looking forward to reading other blogs, catching up a little, after I write this post. Working in my studio again, making progress on a couple of old projects. Back to walking with my neighbor and her dogs. Worked in our yard for a while with my husband today. Lip surgery healing well, my face no longer an embarrassment of bruises.
In other words, I'm baaaaaack.
Mostly.
Part of me is still holding onto Mama, still trying to grasp the finality of our physical separation, still catching myself in the fantasy that she's right there in Minnesota at the nursing home waiting for me to come visit her for a week next month. Part of me thinks about her most of my waking hours, remembering, noticing mannerisms we have in common, thinking what she might say to me about things I say or do. This part of me isn't always sad. Sometimes it feels really good to see her face in my mind. Sometimes I have to chuckle when I do something for which I've criticized her in the past.
The bigger part of me, however, is headed into spring, longer-warmer-sunnier days, with eager anticipation. All parts of me are able to look at food a little more sensibly now. I have a new if-then goal: If I'm staring at the cupboard shelf or into the refrigerator and it's not about preparing a scheduled meal or doing inventory for grocery shopping, then I'm drinking a full glass of water and leaving the kitchen. Nice, huh!
************
Gratitude for the day: my friends Liz, Cathy, Christy and Lunnette; shooting stars, mosses and lichens
In other words, I'm baaaaaack.
Mostly.
Part of me is still holding onto Mama, still trying to grasp the finality of our physical separation, still catching myself in the fantasy that she's right there in Minnesota at the nursing home waiting for me to come visit her for a week next month. Part of me thinks about her most of my waking hours, remembering, noticing mannerisms we have in common, thinking what she might say to me about things I say or do. This part of me isn't always sad. Sometimes it feels really good to see her face in my mind. Sometimes I have to chuckle when I do something for which I've criticized her in the past.
The bigger part of me, however, is headed into spring, longer-warmer-sunnier days, with eager anticipation. All parts of me are able to look at food a little more sensibly now. I have a new if-then goal: If I'm staring at the cupboard shelf or into the refrigerator and it's not about preparing a scheduled meal or doing inventory for grocery shopping, then I'm drinking a full glass of water and leaving the kitchen. Nice, huh!
************
Gratitude for the day: my friends Liz, Cathy, Christy and Lunnette; shooting stars, mosses and lichens
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Need Help
Funny thing how vain I am about my face... hair too, I guess. Last Thursday I had an odd (and fairly fast growing) mole removed from my lower lip and sent for biopsy (no results yet). It's taking a huge amount of will to post the picture that I took today of my lips.
Looking at myself from the perspective of an acquaintance, I see a woman who is struggling with grief over her mother's death, holding it inside, nodding and outwardly saying things like, "Well, she was 94 and lived a good, productive life... Our love and mutual respect was solid as a rock," while inwardly feeling lost, abandoned, stricken.
I see a woman who is eating her heart out, big plates heaped with food, seconds, between meal snacks, reverting to old habits for comfort, not asking her friends for help.
And here's a big one. I see a woman who did not go to her OA meeting on Saturday, even though it's a place where she always finds comfort and support, a place where just maybe she can open the door to her feelings. Why? Because of vanity. Plain and simple. I did not want to show my face.
It's OK. I'm not beating myself up about this. I suspect it's a pretty normal thing. Being aware of how important my face is makes me much more sympathetic to people who have birth defects, scars or other deformities of the face. It makes me more sympathetic to women who have face lifts and cosmetic surgery. It makes me want to contribute money to the Drs. who donate their time to do cleft palette surgeries on children from other countries. In the meantime, I am feeling the results of three weeks of overeating in the way my jeans fit. It's time for me to admit that I need help.
Gratitude for today: my husband, having had 68 darn good years with my mom, signs of spring, all three of my sisters-in-law.
Looking at myself from the perspective of an acquaintance, I see a woman who is struggling with grief over her mother's death, holding it inside, nodding and outwardly saying things like, "Well, she was 94 and lived a good, productive life... Our love and mutual respect was solid as a rock," while inwardly feeling lost, abandoned, stricken.I see a woman who is eating her heart out, big plates heaped with food, seconds, between meal snacks, reverting to old habits for comfort, not asking her friends for help.
And here's a big one. I see a woman who did not go to her OA meeting on Saturday, even though it's a place where she always finds comfort and support, a place where just maybe she can open the door to her feelings. Why? Because of vanity. Plain and simple. I did not want to show my face.
It's OK. I'm not beating myself up about this. I suspect it's a pretty normal thing. Being aware of how important my face is makes me much more sympathetic to people who have birth defects, scars or other deformities of the face. It makes me more sympathetic to women who have face lifts and cosmetic surgery. It makes me want to contribute money to the Drs. who donate their time to do cleft palette surgeries on children from other countries. In the meantime, I am feeling the results of three weeks of overeating in the way my jeans fit. It's time for me to admit that I need help.
Help me, dear universe,
to feel rather than feed my feelings.
Let me cry and rage.
Let me curl up in a little ball and moan.
Let me turn toward friends
and away from food.
Let me write and speak my truth
rather than the deception of "it's all OK, really."
Let me breathe in healing energy.
Here's a picture of Mom, taken by my sister-in-law last fall, a time when she was feeling pretty chipper.
She loved to go to my brother's house, and especially their garden, every Sunday for dinner. There she would have a glass of wine and delicious food, very different from her regular nursing home meals. She's wearing Karen's gardening hat to keep the sun from her sensitive eyes and holding her arm up so she can wave for the picture. Absolutely a sweetheart! (See a couple more pictures here.)
Gratitude for today: my husband, having had 68 darn good years with my mom, signs of spring, all three of my sisters-in-law.
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