Weighty Matters

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Food, Fat and Fitness Focus

Before I launch into the real topic, I just want to circle back and say that, yes, I got out on my boat yesterday!  The day was not without its challenges, like one of the two engines not wanting to stay running and then, when engaged, not wanting to kick up to full power.  However, at least the second engine ran great and, between the two, we were able to get to our destination.  It was a beautiful day so none of us truly minded that it took longer there and back.  Here are a couple of photographs from the day.

P1010117 Sea Fans & Parrotfish

SgtMajors

Now that I got in a good day of boating and snorkeling, I’m prepared to take care of my heel with that plasma rich platelet treatment and wearing the restrictive boot for the prescribed length of time.  Hopefully the treatment will accelerate the healing of my damaged tissues.  At the same time, my boat mechanic can work on fixing the engine.  See — bonus!

For today’s topic, I thought I’d talk about the overwhelming amount of emails, spam ads, and just plain internet exposure I see to all things having to do with diets, food, and getting in shape.  We seem to be a people in dire need of help.  It’s not like I don’t know that obesity is a prevailing health challenge; that it is the underlying cause of several other illnesses and health risks.  I get that.  For some reason, however, I am recently even more aware of the fact that this is all a huge business for a seemingly endless number of people and companies.

It’s like everybody wants a piece of the crisis, or a piece of addressing the crisis.  The ads that I see in the newspaper are often full papers in full color.  Wow, are those expensive.  Helping people lose weight is profitable.

If shows like The Biggest Loser and Extreme Weight Loss didn’t score strong ratings with lots of viewers, they wouldn’t last on television, would they?

I wish they could all get on the same page for what works best and what is the healthiest plan to follow to lose weight and maintain weight loss.  It would certainly cut down on the information onslaught.  Perhaps I’d  be satisfied if we only achieved consensus on how much fruit in a day is too much.

It feels like we overcomplicate matters.  Why can’t it just be “eat fewer calories and exercise more consistently”?  Instead, it’s “eat fewer calories and make sure that they’re 30% this, 40% that, 20% this and 10% the other stuff” or “eat fewer calories but stay away from w, x, y, and z and eat all you want of a, b, c, & d” or some other plan.

I’m not sure why I’m so annoyed by this tonight.  I’d like to put out a strong reply to those numerous emails that I get practically every day and write letters to the editors of allllll the publications at the check-out lines of supermarkets.  the message is: Please stop trying to sell me a product or plan that only you provide.  Perhaps you can get all of your brains together and devise THE plan.  Even three plans to suit different ages and accompanying health-conditions, but that’s all.

I like the K.I.S.S. rule – Keep It Simple, Sweetheart.  It’s hard to maintain focus on food and fitness when our brains are besieged by an overabundance of info.

 

 

 

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Perspective and Attitude

When the scale was moving steadily down and I got to my current weight, I was over-the-moon delighted and excited.  I felt powerful, supercharged, able to take on the world and pursue any activity or adventure.  Oh, it was glorious!

All those wonderful, positive feelings really fueled me in the first couple of years.  Since I’ve had this long period of off and on struggle, I’ve noticed another way in which the situation and my disease messes with my head.

Me at this weight when on a losing trend felt strong in body, fit, healthy and beautiful.

Me coming back to this weight — really only a few pounds in the grand scheme of things – feels weak, out of shape, out of sorts and not attractive.

So which is the truth?  Which is the real Mary?

The one I choose.

This comes down to perspective and attitude.  Thank goodness I realize this, even when beset with diseased thinking.  Once more I make the choice to not be defined by my eating disorder and, furthermore, not permit that disorder to poison my self-esteem and self-view.

I’m not where I want to be, but I am still a whole lot better than I was.  I have challenges, but I keep making the effort.  It’s not great right now, but it’s not as bad as it was last week.  My attitude is definitely improving.

In other news, I had a follow up with the foot doctor today.  I have some improvement but not as much as I’d like.  There are times when I can walk more easily mixed with times when each step is uncomfortably tight in the tendon and sharply painful in the heel.

So, I’m continuing with the running sneaks.  Oh, how happy I was to at least find jazzy ones with purple and pink!  Hey, if I have to wear them all the time, I should have ones that make me smile, right?  I’m staying away from sandals, wearing the splint at night, and so on.  I flex on the steps to loosen my calves.  I might whine to myself about it a lot, but I’m doing what I’m supposed to do.  After meeting with the doctor today, I’m 95% sure that I’m going to proceed with the Plasma Rich Platelet injection therapy he recommends.  My health insurance policy covers it and the doctor is sure that it will speed and intensify the healing.

He would have done the therapy today but I put it off for a week.  The downside is that I have to wear a boot for a week to ten days after the shot.  That will drastically cut down on my mobility.  Next week I have a couple of things going on at work that definitely require me to be more mobile.  I can suck it up and deal with the pain in order to get those things accomplished.  Also, darn it, it’s supposed to be really nice this weekend and I am determined to go out on the boat.  I didn’t get out last weekend due to a slight problem with the engine but that should be fixed now.  I can’t imagine that I will be able to clamber on and off the boat when booted, so I’m taking this opportunity while I can.  I need that boon emotionally and I know that it will do me a world of good!

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Extended Funk Part Deux – and the “D” Word

First I want to say that you all are terrific and I am grateful for your concern.  I appreciate you checking on me. This funk and the food relapse have really taken hold and I’m having more trouble than I anticipated fighting my way through it all.

I haven’t wanted to post because it’s been difficult for me to face facts and talk about them, but my agreement with this blog, myself and everyone that reads it is that I don’t come here and post bullshit.  I’m not going to come and lie that all is great with sunshine, roses, and sparkles when all is not great.  This blog is my gut-check honesty place.    So, rather than lie, I emotionally isolated.

My relapse continues and it’s the worst it’s been since before my weight loss surgery.  I’ve gained weight, although I don’t know how much because I haven’t stepped on the scale.  I can feel it in my clothes and in the way my body feels.  More than the physical results, the emotional and mental effects are the worst.

I know I’ve said this all before and I’m like a broken record right now, but there isn’t anything original about binge eating disorder.  Relapsing sucks.  Feeling out of control messes me up in a myriad of ways.  I’m unhappy and that also has an impact in other areas of my life.    Also shared before is the chronic heel pain from which I’ve been suffering which severely limits my ability to exercise.  Not only do I not reap the physical benefits, but I’m lacking those uplifting endorphins.

At least I took positive action for that condition and saw a doctor last week.  I’d properly self-diagnosed the condition – plantar fasciitis.  I am now following the doctor’s instructions – wearing good sneakers, stretching to loosen the tight calves, taking over-the-counter anti-inflammatory meds, using a splint at night.  I am mostly following the no bare feet/no flip flops directive although that’s honestly the most challenging.  I hate wearing anything on my feet when I’m home.  However, he told me I can wear original Crocs so I truly am trying to be better about this too.  I want the condition to get better.  Constant pain is, well, a pain, and limiting the types of exercise I can do interferes with my recovery plans.

Yes, I do have recovery plans.  I can’t let all of my hard work and effort fall apart.  It is never too late to begin again, unless I’m dead, and good Lord willing, I’m not going to die anytime soon.

I need to go back on a diet.  The dreaded “D” word used to describe programs and methods of eating and making food choices to result in weight loss.  That runs counter to a lot of my accepted knowledge about having an eating disorder and being in recovery.  Heck, it runs counter to a lot of popular medically-influenced thought these days.

On the other hand, it can also mean, to me, an actual plan that embraces healthy food choices  with frood eaten in planned-for, structured, non-binging, non-compulsive ways.  That’s the kind of diet I need.

However, I also know that, as much as I hate admitting it, I need that validation of seeing pounds come off of my body, seeing the number go down on the scale.  Sure, keeping to my food plan of healthy eating and abstaining from compulsion should be enough positive reinforcement and engender the feel-good spirit and emotions that keep the abstinence rolling.  But, I’m human.  At least in the beginning, if I see that I’m losing weight again, I will feel better.  I am less likely to then engage in attacking myself with ugly thoughts, angry labels, and shame-inducing negative comments about my weak character.

So, here I go again, my friends.  Once more into the breach.  This really is a never-ending journey, an eternal process and, to be honest, a constant effing struggle.

It isn’t easy and never will be.  However, it is always and absolutely worth it.

Thanks for hanging in with me.  How are all of you doing?

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Extended Funk

Man, oh man, when I get into a funk about my eating disorder, I really get into a funk.  I stopped wallowing in self-pity but could not shake a number of other negative emotions and behavior.  I went from depressed to disgusted with myself.  That’s where I’ve been, saying all kinds of mean things to myself about myself.

I would never be so mean to someone else.  If I was, I’d consider the someone else totally within their rights to bitch slap me.

So, because I’ve been calling myself names and castigating myself for being a weak-willed, lying, denying, fat slob idiot, I’ve been doing my level best to manifest those traits with my eating.  Nothing like negatively reinforcing bad self-directed behavior.

This all began to, naturally, effect my self-esteem and confidence.  It’s the same old vicious cycle.  I began to doubt my physical abilities.  I also instantly started viewing my image in the mirror with “fat eyes” in which I no longer see my real body but an inflated, swelled, fatter one.

Today my emotions began to shift back to reality.  I can’t claim that a switch got flipped or anything so automatic, but a combination of things came together and I began to change back to a healthier mindset.

I don’t have it all figured out yet, but I know a couple of the factors that I think have helped turn the tide.

I’ve gotten on top of the heel pain so every step I take no longer causes me to flinch and wince.  I am much more inclined to be active.

A couple of things that were stressing me out at work were resolved and I was able to get more caught up.

I got a truly terrific share of organic produce.  I ordered a larger share than I normally do just because doing so meant I received celery root.  I love steaming and mashing celery root but my local supermarket rarely carries this particular veggie delight.  So, I got excited about cooking and consuming something healthy that I love to eat.

A friend and I planned a paddle boarding adventure.  I’ve been wanting to try the activity again so we finally scheduled it for Saturday afternoon.  I had a bunch of trepidation at first because we weren’t climbing onto the boards from the shore.  Instead we were in a private area at her condo and would have to clamber up and down a dock ladder to get on and off of the boards.  Remember, that in my mind’s eye, I’ve been a cow the last few weeks so I experienced a return of the “you’re too fat to do this” false fear for everything from handling the ladder to staying on the board, etc.

It was a huge boost for me to handle the activity and provide ample evidence that I’m not “too fat”.   We practiced for about an hour and that was enough.  Once I’m on the board, I’m sort of nervous about moving my feet and throwing off my balance.  Unfortunately, this resulted in my feet cramping up and beginning to hurt.  So, even though I was successful with the whole adventure, I’m not sure it’s something that I want to frequently do or try for extended periods of time.  All in all, I prefer kayaking.  However, the important thing is that I challenged myself and succeeded.  It was a booyah moment.

Oh, and earlier in the day I’d gotten out on my bike for a nice 10 miles ride which also contributed evidence to my still-existing physical fitness.

Friends and I were hoping to go out on my boat on Sunday, but a persistent high wind deep-sixed that plan.  Instead, I invited them to come over and hang out on the porch and by the pool.  With that plan in place, my thoughts returned to the produce I still had from the organics share.  I Googled eggplant-zuccini salad and found several yummy-sounding recipes.

Oh, the scrumptiousness!  I roasted eggplant, zuccini, red onion, and baby sweet colorful peppers, tossed in a little bit of olive oil and herbs from my garden.  When they were done and cool, I mixed them with drained chick peas, crunchy raw celery, feta cheese and sherry vinegar.  The resulting dish was absolutely delicious!

I derived a lot of happiness from making something healthy and delish for myself and my friends.  Seriously, I felt my mood elevate.  We had a really nice, relaxing afternoon.

There might be other things, but these are the key mood-shapers that came together.  My spirit has been much lighter today.  I even dared to go to the local clothing store to see if there were a couple of nice tops/blouses that I could buy to rev up my wardrobe.  I have a trip to see family and go to my high school reunion in a couple of weeks, followed immediately by a conference that I love to attend every year.

I had been dreading trying on current clothes, positive that I’d blown up in size and nothing would fit.  Obviously, finding out that my clothes fit fine helped me counter the F.alse E.vidence A.ppearing R.eal.  I did find a couple of new garments that I know I will enjoy wearing.  I came home and further gave myself a boost by making some more progress with the ongoing decluttering project.  Then I made a tasty, and healthy dinner for myself with grilled chicken, some of that roasted veggie salad, and a skewer of grilled pineapple and watermelon.

I’m waiting for the sun to go down a little more and then Nat, Pyxi and I are going for a walk.  A little last exercise for the day will only serve to help maintain the upswing.

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Wallowing

A good friend called me last night because she hadn’t seen me post anything to this blog since I talked about the car accident.  Every night over the last week I’ve meant to write a post, but I always found a reason not to.

Her sweet, loving concern gave me a wake up call.  I realized that I’ve been wallowing for the last week.  First there was the accident.  Even though I wasn’t seriously injured and I was mostly incredibly grateful and seeing the bright side, I experienced some residual emotions while my body gradually got over the twinges and soreness.  My energy level was much lower than normal for several days, which was probably from the combination of physical stress to my body and the emotional drain.  This rolled into Mothers Day which, frankly, is never a great day for me since I am not a mom and I always miss my mom a lot, particularly on this day.  To cap off that already difficult time, I dropped an empty bottle on my foot and cut my toe.  The wound didn’t need stitches and, thankfully, no bones broke, but it hurt like the devil – particularly if I wore close toed shoes or sneakers.

I believe I’ve mentioned that, in addition to getting the injections in my knee, I’ve been suffering from plantar fasciitis in my left heel.  It has hurt to walk for six weeks.  Frequently in that same time period, the heel has hurt even when I just have the slightest pressure on it when lying in bed.  Between the knee injections and the heel pain, I haven’t been able to do Tai Chi and taking the dogs for our twice daily walks has been torturous.

Monday rolled around and I got the less-than-pleasing news that it will probably take at least a month before my car is repaired.  Yes, I have my older SUV, for which I’m incredibly grateful, but given my already less-than-stellar mood, the thought of this dragging on for four weeks just compounded things.

So, blah blah blah.  Whine whine whine.  Bitch bitch bitch.  Wallow wallow wallow.

You know, I don’t like to be around people who are negative and who complain a lot.  Pity parties are not my idea of fun… particularly when I’m the hostess.  Self-pity brings out the worst in me.  First off, it’s a miserable energy state in which to exist and then, it’s a giant food and eating trigger.  It doesn’t matter how much I tell myself that it is impossible to eat away the sadness or truly use food to smother any feeling, this is, unfortunately, my go-to response.  When my positive personality and attitude take a dive, I mistakenly think that food will buoy me back up.

When I’m wallowing, I also have to cop to a certain amount of “f*#k it” in my attitude, like I don’t care.

That’s bull of course.  I do care.  Even when I snack and then get upset with myself for eating off the plan, I still care.  Unfortunately, I have a hard time effectively using the caring to alter the poor behavior in that moment.

Since I’m not willing to chuck it all, give up on myself and eat my way into oblivion, it’s seriously past time for last-call at this pity party.  There honestly is no payoff for me to allow it to continue.  Tonight I’m putting a time limit on the wallow.  I have dinner plans with a friend for tomorrow night and I’m heading into a weekend.  So, I’m basically telling myself to suck it up and move on.

I have too much good in my life with endless potential for more.  There is no more space on my calendar for being a downer in my own life any longer.

 

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Perspective After an Accident

My day started with a car accident.  I’m okay, or at least not seriously injured.  I have some whiplash and twinges in my lower back, but some soreness in my shoulders and arm.  I went to the ER where they took x-rays so nothing more serious showed up.

I was very lucky.  I was slowing down to a stop because of a red light.  Unfortunately, a truck in back of me was not timely in his own slowing down process.  Once he noticed that the light was red and cars in front of him were stopping, he hit his brakes, but ran out of room and hit my car in the back.  Again, I was lucky because he didn’t hit me at full speed.  I was also far enough behind the truck in front of me that I wasn’t knocked into him.  My car is fixable.  The other driver is also insured.  My insurance company is already all over it and my car was towed to the local body shop.  Fortunately, the local body shop happens to be very good at their job, since we don’t have a large choice of establishments from which to choose.

Right after the impact, I knew that I was sore.  What surprised me was how shaken up I was after the accident.  My hands trembled and I had to force myself to focus on calling the sheriff’s department, locating my insurance info and registration and just thinking about what I should do, who else I should call.  The EMTs came and I couldn’t make up my mind whether to let them strap me on a back board and transport me to the hospital or whether I could take myself there after finished with the police.  Thank goodness for the deputy who kept checking on me.  When I apologized for being shaky and weepy, she looked at me and told me I had every right to be after getting hit from behind.  That little bit of affirmation and validation helped a lot.

Where I live, we only have one main road.  It was no surprise to me to soon get a text from a friend and co-worker who’d passed the scene on her way to work and wanted to make sure I was okay.  She would have stopped but it was a busy intersection at the time.  I texted work.  Before the highway patrol was even finished checking out the situation, getting everyone’s info and writing up the report, my top boss and friend arrived to provide a ride to the ER and moral support.  The tow truck driver is also a friend of mine and he was able to tell me exactly where he should transport my car to get fixed.

At the hospital, the manager to whom I directly report showed up after her own doctor’s appointment to see if she could be of any help.  Others were texting the boss to see what they could do.

All told, I wasn’t at the hospital very long and, after a quick trip to the pharmacy for my meds, I was home, resting on the sofa, and answering texts of other friends at work expressing their gratitude that I wasn’t badly hurt and asking if there was anything that I needed.

I spent the afternoon with ice packs, puppy cuddles, and a nap… followed by some serious reflection.  I know that in times of trouble, friends reach out to assist each other.  I’m the same way to my friends.  But today, tonight, experiencing the outpouring of love and support from my friends and work family is really hitting home and filling me with great gratitude.  (We do consider ourselves family at work, in case I haven’t mentioned that before.)

Maybe it’s because I’m older, single, and live far away from my blood family.  I don’t know, but all of the kindness truly resonates.  So, on a night when I could be grousing and grumpy over the inconvenience of an accident and the residual aches and soreness, what I feel most is happy, humble, and blessed.

My heart is full and that fullness comes out in a smile.

 

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Skewed Food Perspective

My two week Lean-Green-Clean period is complete.  All in all, I did really well.  My body feels so much better inside — in a way that is more about better quality food going in and less to do with the nine pounds that I lost.  Mentally and emotionally, sticking the program provided a much needed boost.  The two weeks demonstrated to me that I can, indeed, manage my food and eating in healthy ways.  Certainly much healthier than I’d been doing.

I’m so pleased with the results that I’m continuing on, but with, perhaps a little less strictness.  Not much, but the occasional carb or small chocolate treat — also occasionally and not in great quantities.

This is a potential slippery slope because I have a very skewed perspective when it comes to food.  Part of it comes from not ever being able to totally free myself from the diet mentality.  I’ve had it drummed into me so often, and self-drummed it, that carbs are bad.  Awful bad.  The baddest of bad.  So, even when I eat something like half of a whole grain, high fiber bagel – it feels like a cheat.  I went to Miami today to see my Phillies play the Marlins.  This was a terrific treat for me to see a ball game in person and spend time with friends.  I had an all beef hot dog at the ballpark for lunch.  Okay, a hot dog isn’t the cleanest food, but can’t I cut myself a break and not feel guilty?

When I get into that diseased thinking, it’s dangerous.  It quite often  leads to self-disgust and a “well I f#*#ed up today anyway.  I might as well keep going” reaction.  So a simple eating of something that really wasn’t bad or damaging can turn into a binge.

As I continue on my program, I need to be very aware of the mental aspect of my relationship with food.  I need to be able to separate behaviors into their proper descriptions.  Eating half of a whole grain, high fiber bagel is not the same thing as plowing my way through a bag of potato chips.  A small serving of chocolate does not equate to a pint of ice cream.

Two successful weeks when I’d been struggling for a while have produced much needed clarity.  I’d like to build on this even more moving forward.

How’s everybody else doing?

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Drawn to Scale

Most days, stepping onto the scale is part of my morning routine.  I know that I’m very focused on the number as a measure of my success or lack thereof, depending on what the number reads.  Someday I’ll figure out a way to break that fixation.  I tried not weighing myself for two weeks, which spread to a month, but in the interest of complete honesty, doing so right at the time more fed into my denial.  It allowed me to ignore that some poor eating choices was leading to weight gain.

So, of course, I was over-the-moon delighted that I lost 7 pounds in the first week of Lean-Clean-Green.  Yes, I was just as, almost as, pretty excited that I felt so great, but the weight loss was the true validation.  On the one hand, frequent weighing grounds me in reality.  On the other, more negative hand, frequent weighing distracts me from what ought to be my main focus – eating in a way that is abstinent of compulsion and bingeing.

Again and again I remind myself that it’s about the behavior.  My weight is more like an indication.  It’s the end result of the eating disorder.  For me, anyway.  There are many, many people with this disorder who are not overweight.  I am not a number on the scale, yet I am drawn to that square piece of glass and metal with its electronic sensors.  That number can set me up with an “atta girl” affirmation or be used as a club with which to beat myself.

This is another aspect of overreaching need to embrace acceptance.  After all, since I am not on a diet, there is no end date or end weight that halts the effort.  Eating in healthy, non-compulsive, ways is a lifelong endeavor.  There is no magic weight that I’ll reach where I can proclaim, “Ta da, I’m done!”

Yes, I can celebrate milestones, like when I eventually make it into “One-derland” or when I also eventually hit what I’ve determined is the target number that I want to use as my baseline measurement.  I have that number in my head.  I’m thinking of it as the measure that I want to stay “at or around” for my own physical well being.

Other than that, it doesn’t really matter if the number on the scale is acceptable if the way that I’m eating is off track.  So, again, something to keep working on in my program of recovery.

How about you?  Are any of you scale and weight obsessed?

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Acceptance

In comments on the previous post, Forest Jane and I talked about how we can’t bring certain foods into the house because they’ll call to us all of the time and we’ll eat them.

I said that I can’t fool myself any longer and think that I won’t binge, in my own post weight loss surgery type of binge, on certain foods if I have them available in my house.  This has stayed with me in my  mind since.  The process of mulling this over caused some things to bubble up for me, even though the concept of keeping my house free of binge-trigger foods is nothing new.  It seriously could be the umpteenth time, or even the umpteenth squared time, that I’ve thought about this in the last 30 or so years.

You’d think I’d have gotten the point by now.  I have a little disgust twinge going on, but I’m also trying to remember that it doesn’t matter how often we think about something, or hear a suggestion, or even know intellectually that we should do something a certain way… if we aren’t ready, we aren’t ready, and we won’t make the connection.  Even if we make the connection, we can dig in our heels and resist.

Acceptance is the key, but I need willingness to reach that point.

I keep thinking that some day, somehow, I’m going to be able to eat “normally”, be a “normal” person when it comes to food.  That’s nothing new.  I know that for me, the only thing normal about my eating is that I will always be a food addict/compulsive overeater.  There is no cure.  I can only learn helpful things, tools, and means for keeping in recovery, even while accepting that I will never fully recover.

Today, this acceptance revealed an additional realization.  I’ve had it in my mind that when I get to goal weight, I’ll be fixed.  I won’t always have to do this, always be mindful, commit every day to working the program, and remain vigilant.  That is the worst kind of denial.  I can’t believe that I’ve continued to pretend otherwise for so long.

I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.  There’s no time limit on the disease.

Mentally, I’ve known this for decades.  Today it feels like the rest of me is catching on, or at least catching up.

I have a lot of feelings about it.  I’m  a little glum in my acceptance, but at the same time pragmatic — it is what it is.  There’s resentment but I’m also ready to embrace it and keep moving forward.  While I haven’t worked through it to find the joy, I am catching a glimmer of grace in make these forward steps.

I’m grateful because, at the end of the day, I know that I can continue to recover.

 

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Pain Turns to Medicine

Fair warning, friends.  I will probably cite from Anne LaMott’s amazing book Small Victories often in coming days.  Her insights are sparkle like gems, resonate like soul-filling music in the best concert hall, and open my eyes and my mind to new viewpoints.  The book reveals what she calls “small moments of grace”.  For me, it’s uncovering small moments of understanding.  If these understandings lead to grace, so much the better.

Earlier this evening, I read a passage that, forgive the cliche, spoke to me.  I won’t retype the whole thing, but my small moment began when she shared a quote from Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi, a 13th century Persian poet.  The quote reads, “Through love all pain will turn to medicine”.  LaMott says that the pain and failures she experienced slowly restored her to the person she was born to be.

She talks about experiencing the eating cycle of binging then dieting, binging then dieting, binging then dieting and never felt full without being stuffed.  Gradually, through school and life experiences, she began to,” … learn the secrets of life: that you could become the woman you’d dared to dream of being but to do so you were going to have to fall in love with your own crazy, ruined self.”

Later she shares that she had to accept that life was not going to be filling if she tried to become somebody else’s idea of who she should be. and when she got to that point she no longer needed to stuff herself “to the gills”.

Nothing was going to fill her except love and what I interpret from her description as self-acceptance, self-nurturing, self-care.

This is all such powerful stuff for me.  Now I’m not going to sit here and say that I hate myself.  That isn’t true.  However, I don’t always treat myself with the love that I deserve, the love that I would show to others.

Going back to Rumi, I feel like his quote means that the negative of pain cannot withstand the positive power of self-love.  When we let in the love, we transform the other emotions into something nurturing and healing.  The pain becomes medicine which treats the negative conditions so that they heal.  The emptiness is filled and we no longer need to plug the hollowness with food.

Day Four is winding to a close.  I’ve had another good day food-wise.  It wasn’t always easy today as I dealt with some circumstances that were unpleasant and upsetting.  However, I prevailed and didn’t seek to reduce the effects by stuffing in food.

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