Question for today.

Is my desire to be thin a God given desire?

Side Lined

Over the past week I have been dealing with some pretty severe pain. The doctor thinks that I have a pinched nerve in my neck. There is arthritis and degenerative disc disease going on for sure, as seen on the X-rays they took. I will be getting an MRI on Saturday, but won't be able to see the doctor again for results until the 18th of July. The orthopedist is concerned about possible nerve damage due to the weakness in my left hand and arm.

This has been a real trial for me. I have had to deal with chronic migraines most of my life.  And that is difficult. I had a bout with sciatica a few months ago, and that was awful, but thankfully it responded to steroids pretty quickly. This particular issue is not responding to steroids or various medications yet. I am sleeping at night in a recliner and spend many hours awake and battling pain. On top of the sensation that my left arm is being hit with a hammer, the skin on my arm, back and hand has developed hyper sensitivity. It feels like it is on fire, or like it has been scraped and is raw and bleeding. I keep expecting to look in the mirror and see my skin red and raw, but it looks normal. The doctor told me that this is part of the pain that comes with nerve involvment.

I live with a heating pad and and ice pack being used simultaneously on my arm and neck. I long to sleep in my bed, but find that I can't bear to lie flat for long. I can sometimes lie on my back a few minutes, but will find that after a while, the pain builds. Lying on my side (my usually sleeping position) is out of the question.

Unfortunately, I have turned to food even more so over the last week. I suppose in an effort to cope with the pain. But, news flash...food doesn't help. Duh.

I have a new empathy for people who deal with debilitating, chronic pain. I do hate feeling like an invalid. I have prayed for my friends who are suffering with more earnestness this week, as I begged God to take away the pain.

Right now, I must just try to get through this the best that I can. I will continue to pray and continue to wait for healing. I will choose to look for things to be grateful for....a good recliner to sleep in, medicines that take the edge off the pain. Ice packs and heating pads. A family that is sympathetic and willing to help when asked. For a swimming pool that I can float in and sometimes get a small amount of relief in. And mostly a God who I know hears me, and is with me even in the midst of the pain.

In the meantime, once again I am going to work at eating only when I am hungry, and to move away from using food as a comfort. It is not comforting. It only makes it worse, and I know that carrying all this extra weight is only hurting me more. Is this what it takes for me to finally "get it" and stop overeating? I don't know. But for now, since I can't exercise, I must just learn to live without the momentary pleasure of eating just to eat, or to distract me from my pain or discomfort. I will chose to turn first to God for comfort. It is a long, long journey. But I will begin now.

Grocery Store Disney Land

I had an "interesting" experience Saturday. We are on our yearly vacation to my hometown (Wilmington, NC). And I was running errands. I stopped by a grocery store that I used many years ago when we still lived here. It has been updated several times. This last update was a doozy.

As I walked into the store, I took in the strange wooden siding in the front in place of the usual picture glass entry, and the smiling greeter at the door cooking brats on a grill. I am not sure, but I think he was wearing a checkered shirt and cowboy hat. I say I am not sure, because I didn't particularly notice at the time, but think that based on what happened over the next few minutes.

I walked in and found the new interior very bright and airy. Nice. Then I noticed a few echoes of a barn motiff...a hay bale here. A scarecrow there. As I walked toward the back I began to notice a metallic sound. Bank, clonk, bank, clonk. Whoosh. I looked around wondering if a train was at the depot, or if they were still renovating the back end. I noticed a huge working gears decorative border above the meat counter and realized it was from there. A sort of Country Bear Jamboree kind of thing. I didn't see any singing bears though. Maybe they only came out on the hour. I was thinking to myself that I could not have worked here with that racket constantly in the background. How odd. But the oddness was not finished yet.

As I walked around I got busy searching for the item I went in to purchase and made my way to the front to pay. As I rounded the corner, I noticed a 6 foot chicken accompanied by his handlers. Not trying to act amazed like the out of town rube that I was, I continued to the register. I heard behind me pieces of their conversation.  "Not scary", was one phrase I specifically heard, and I thought perhaps there might be a toddler near by, but when I looked around only the adult employees were there and then, as if on cue with my glance, they began a loud chant about a hoedown and something about your hometown store,  and finished up with an enthusiastic YEEE HAA! I was almost the only customer in the store at the moment, so I assume it was on my behalf. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to square dance on my way out of the store or not, so I made a quit beeline for the door, past the lady in the balloon and corn hole corral.

I left wondering when it became a thing to turn grocery shopping into an experience. In my day you were lucky to get a free cookie or balloon for your kid at the more upscale stores. Now it has become a ADHD paradise. A day in disneyland while you shopped for bologna and milk.

Yeeee Haaaa!

Off to see the Wizard

A kind friend wrote me a note after reading my last blog entry, all concerned about my mental state. She empathized with me, and shared my feelings, so it was a great, encouraging note for me. And not once did she mention a straight jacket or anything. I told you on my first post to watch the crazy happen as my blog continued. I must have had a premonition.


Crazy has been happening to me. I could feel myself unraveling like a wound up rubber band. I could feel the despair and self loathing rising to a fever pitch. And yet, I just sat inside myself, saying to myself, "Self, you are a nut case".

Sometimes I am. Maybe it is part of being female. Maybe in my 50's I'm finally going bonkers. Maybe I need to move to Peru or go see the Wizard of Oz or something.

I've been playing around with this and that method of losing weight. Cutting carbs here.  Counting calories there. Hoping for a miracle to happen here, not treating random stomachaches in the hope of weight loss there. None of it seemed to work well. Crazy is just too powerful of an ailment for the usual treatments.

Maybe I could find an electric fence for some homemade shock therapy?

I am kidding. Really I am. I know I am not really crazy, not much anyway,  but I am slowing driving myself crazy with this whole weight issue. Why am I making such a federal case out of this? Mostly my ailment is in my own mind. The mind is a powerful thing to lose. Or something like that.

I know that the one thing that has worked for me as I look back over my lifetime of dieting...and there has been a lifetime of it, believe me, is eating less. Way less. Way, way less.  As in less than normal people. Not at the level of anorexia or anything, but definitely less than the standard american diet of  1800-2000 calories per day. Probably more in the 1000 calorie level per day. Cue the sad, melodramatic music here. Or at least play 'Somewhere over the rainbow'.

Maybe I damaged my metabolism over the years. Apparently making moderate, sane changes to my diet is not sufficient for weight loss. And I really need some weight loss. Really.  I'm not feeling exactly comfortable in my own skin here.

6 months ago I lost about 15 pounds by simply eating less. Way less. I was eating with hunger and fullness, but something had turned inside me and I didn't want much food. I was probably eating somewhere in the 1000 calorie per day range, and I was doing great. I wasn't "counting calories" per se, but I was simply picking at my food in a way, and really, really being careful not to eat when I wasn't really hungry, and going slow when I did eat. Maybe I had a virus or something. Nice virus, how do I get it again?

Then I got sciatica in my back, which was not too much fun. Followed up nicely by a knee injury. Followed a few weeks later by two surgeries, one for the knee and one was a bladder sling). And what I chose to do in the midst of all that difficulty and angst and feeling sorry for myself was eat to make it better. And eat. And eat some more.  But somehow it didn't seem to make it better. Go figure.

I gained back the 15 I had lost. Then I added another 10 pounds just to be sure that 15 was on for good. And now I am worse off than before. Heavier than I have ever been and not really liking it much at all. Understatement.

So what do I do with myself? "Self, you need to get with the program". Am I listening? I sure hope so. What program? I don't know, but certainly get off the program to keep gaining weight while I figure it out.

I've gotta find a way to eat less again. Way less than I want to. I am praying about this too. I am looking to God  to help me find the path out of this pit. I know He can do it. And frankly, I know I can do it too. Faith. I must built that faith back up again. I must stop ruminating on the cobblestones of my mind, and start listening to Him again. Trusting and being obedient. Walk out of Crazy Town, starting now. Right before we go on vacation to the beach. Yeah. Great timing, right? But at least I know it is not based on my outer circumstances, but on God working on the inner me. He is able if I can find the courage to believe again.

And I do believe. I do believe. (Sounds familiar, isn't that what Peter Pan told the children to do to make Tinkerbell fly? Or was it the Cowardly Lion hoping that the flying monkeys would disappear? Either way, that was the moment something happened, right? Right?

Oh well, I'm off to see the wizard. Nah, not really. But I do have a mighty God. And He  has some kind of answer for me, if I can open up my mind and heart to hear Him.

A Long, Rambly Post

Saturday, my husband and I took a little road trip. We live in central Virginia, so we headed toward Virginia Beach with our dog Louie. Our plan was to check out First Landing State Park, but when we got there it was packed with no parking available. So we went a couple of miles further to Fort Storey, which has a Chesapeake Bay beach and an Atlantic side beach. Since we are military we were able to get on post.

We went to the bay side beach, which had luxurious green belt of trees and plants all about on the walk down the pier to the sand, and it was very pretty, with only a few people there. However, we soon found out why. The deer flies...the biting kind that seem to plague Virginia through the month of June were doing sentinel duty. They are sneaky little rascals. They'll buzz around a few minutes, dive bombing your head, and then one would find somewhere to latch on and bite...at which point a dozen would suddenly appear like sharks scenting blood in the water...causing me to scream like a little girl. Well, I exaggerate...a little. After a while I simply felt a bit panic stricken and hunted, and a bit like I was being held prisoner while those flies plotted my ransom note. I went in to the water where I stayed...with the water up to my neck to protect me from their attentions. We probably stayed there about 45 minutes.  But only because Alan had taken Louie up the beach for a jaunt before we realized how bad the flies were, so I was stuck waiting for him to get back, plotting revenge all the while from the chilly depths of the water. It was also "fun" hauling all our beach stuff half a mile back to our car.

So after that little adventure, we decided to go across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge to see what we could see on the other side. This is a 17 mile bridge across the bay, and it is beautiful. It is pricey too...$15 each way. But once we got to the other side, we decided to check out a little town called  Cape Charles. I can't tell you how charming and almost magical this little town is. It is off the small highway, and on the way really to nowhere. So you are riding along a country road, take a left and find this little insular community of gorgeous, rehabbed Victorian, Craftsmen and Colonial Revival homes. Everyone of them looks like a potential bed and breakfast. There are small sleepy streets with golf carts being driven at approximately 80 miles per hour by intent little old men, and grandmas riding their bicycles in white polyester pants. There was a beautiful, silky soft white sand beach, and turn of the century row of storefronts on Main Street with galleries, coffee shops, an ice cream parlor and a single venue theater. It was gorgeous and peaceful, and we could not figure out how it sustains itself. In a strange juxtaposition, there was a cement factory across from the bay and across from the lovely main street, but despite that, the area seemed way more genteel and well heeled than a factory could supply. I had the odd sensation that I'd stepped into some sort of Stepford town, but it was beguiling.  I would love to come back and stay overnight.

Today we went to Williamsburg to bicycle.  We went to the original Jamestown Settlement, which is on an island, reached by a causeway. There is a 5 mile loop around the island and it is gorgeous...the last time we came it was cool and a little drizzly. The road is quiet with few travelers, bordered by dense tree and plant growth and occasional glimpses of the James River.  Today the weather was gorgeous but those darn flies found us and swarmed us the deeper we rode into the island. I ended up peddling for all I was worth to get out of there. My face was the color of a tomato and I was relieved when we got back to our car (8 miles total). I felt a deep hatred in my heart for those little buggers,but they made good trainers. I don't think a drill sergeant could have made me pedal any faster.

So it has been a fun, though buggy, weekend, with lots of exercise. I'm feeling disgusted with myself, though. I am definitely not losing weight, despite all the exercise. I need to do something to make normal, reasonable changes in my diet...but I'm not sure what. I want to be normal, I want to be healthy. I want to lose some weight without making myself crazy, even if it is slow. Is that possible? The last couple of mornings I have eaten a high protein, no bread breakfast (eggs and some fruit), and I do seem to do better with that, but by lunch, I find myself turning to my old processed carb choices. I think it is mostly habit and convenience, and lack of ideas for what to make myself. A sandwich is the old faithful standby. For years I have wanted to try cutting out highly processed carbs and so much sugar to see if that was helpful, but I don't know if that is the right path or not, and I've always talked myself out of even trying it. I am not about to try and follow an "Atkins style" diet. I guess I'm just thinking more mediterranean...without so much bread and sweets. I wonder if eating a higher percentage of protein, with plenty of veggies and some fruit would be helpful?  Like I said, I want to eat and maintain a normal lifestyle. I tend to go overboard with everything I do, but when I don't know the "rules" I feel all adrift. Maybe I could try eating a whole foods diet in the main, and somehow still manage to allow myself to eat "off plan" on occasion. Maybe it is a matter of building new habits and seeing the high sugar, high processed stuff not as forbidden, just as not everyday choices. I don't seem to go overboard with things like rice, pasta or potatoes. Its the bread and sugary treats that call my name.  I have been doing a lot of thinking about this. I know I need to find a path that is healthful and sane, one that I can follow by eating when I am hungry and not eating emotionally. I just don't know if I am capable of infusing common sense in my eating routines. Isn't that silly?It smells of a lie I have taught myself to believe. Why should this be so hard? Habit is a mighty magnetic thing.

Learning (again) how to notice

Lately I have found myself paying attention. Paying attention not to the inner me…I’ve always done that. I’ve always listened to the inner dialogue, the constant self-check. The inner critique. At times it has been worrisome, exhausting. Yet, it is an intensely important aspect of my make up, of who God created me to be. It is just me, and I accept and embrace it.

But over time I have forgotten the child-like wonder in the world outside of me. I forgot to take the time to really enter into the physical world. Being a visual person, I have always noticed beauty, but entering into the physical goes beyond just sight, though sight is am important conduit of information.

It is when I am out doors, doing my two favorite activities…bicycling and swimming…that I find it easiest to enter into the physical dimension, and take it in with a sort of meditative enjoyment. It becomes almost a prayer, in a way that I have never prayed before.

Lately I find myself noticing how my legs feel when I am pedaling my bike. The weight of humidity on my skin, or the delight of days when a crisp wind blows and the sunlights chases in and out among the trees. I notice the sound of my steady, even breathing. The pull of the hills as I ascend and the whoosh of delight when I coast. It is good.

I enjoy the blessing of having a swimming pool in my own backyard. I never thought I’d have that, and yet it is a source of constant delight for me in the summer months. I love the way the sunlight flickers through the water. I enjoy the caress of cool water on sun warmed skin and the release of tired muscles. I emerge from the depths and feel the soft breeze against my face. My dog races around the pool, intensely interested in my play. I splash the water to entertain him and look up and notice the glory of large, crystal drops of water falling down on my face like magic. I dive into the turmoil of water, and feel the tickle of tiny bubbles rushing toward my face in the pool. I find myself laughing as I throw a water sogged tennis ball for Louie, and watch him race with glee to catch it before it lands, white feathery tail swishing with delight.  I smell the clean scent of the slightly salty water. I hear the birds scolding from the safety of their leafy homes. 

I have discovered a child like joy in the process of noticing the outer world that I had forgotten over the years when I was paying too much attention to the inner world. It is good to notice. To breathe. To feel. Those are gifts from God. Why did I forget?

And yet, I see the irony of how I am taking in these observations, meditating on them, and making them part of the inner landscape. My natural habitat. And that’s ok too. If my inner world becomes too sterile, it is enlivened by the addition of the outer world, and its rude, basic, gorgeous reality.

I am thankful to God for helping me to notice. We lose so much to preoccupation with our inner selves, and with adult worries and ruminations. Noticing the world brings gratitude. Noticing and enjoying is a prayer. 

A Boy Named Bear

Yesterday I had the fun task of bathing suit shopping. (Said with gritted teeth and a fake smile on my face).

Bathing suit shopping is not my favorite pastime. And I don't care who you are, I really don't know any women who admit to liking it.  Probably because if any woman said she enjoyed bathing suit shopping the rest of us would promptly clobber her.

So, I am choosing a few likely numbers to try on (likely not to satisfy me that is). And a woman appears in the vicinity with her two children in tow. One is a world weary, approximately 11 year old girl. It is her job to follow mom and her kid brother around and keep him in check. Which she does by repeatedly telling him that, "He is not going to get a toy if he don't behave!" Mom starts out authoritative, if kind. "Bear, stay near momma", she warns sweetly. "OH, does Bear want to hold momma's bag? THANK you, Bear. Bear, come back here and pick up that bag."

Bear is a 3 year old boy with a clearly healthy enjoyment of exercise.

So momma take her selections into the dressing room, and then leaves him with sis a moment to grab one more suit. His sister viciously tells Bear that 'she is glad he ain't going to get no toy.' Bear seems unimpressed with the taunt. Sis locks Bear out and Bear begins banging on the door. "Girl! Lemme in!"

By this time I have secreted myself in the other dressing room with my choices and begin to try them on, desperately hoping that Bear won't start crawling under the dressing room doors in his pursuit of physical education. I speed change between suits, rejecting each and every one, while listening to the ongoing dialogue between momma, sis, and Bear.

At some point, Bear's nickname is dropped in favor of his given name, Darrin. (I wonder if he was named after mean Darrin or nice Darrin...you remember, on Bewitched?) In between warning Darrin/Bear to "Come back here, put that down, sit still, Momma is almost done, and DON"T eat that, and stop licking the mirror, Bear!", Momma is also commenting on her bathing suit choices, and which one, in her words,  "hide the jello legs and tummy bulge best". Sister is recruited to critique the suits, and is apparently about to take a photo of momma, who emphatically tells her to desist. Bear runs back and forth, providing punctuation phrases to every suit Momma tries on. "How about this one? Bear, come here!" or I don't feel as fat in this one. Darrin...watch out for that rack!" or What do you think Sissy? Darrin, putthatdownbeforeIwhoopyourhide!"

At least I didn't feel alone in the self loathing department, and Bear definitely made for a more entertaining swim suit session.

God bless young mommas and their little Bears. I think she found her suit. I hope so anyway. I'm not sure Macy's could handle any more time with little Bear.