Love Not Lipo ... Live a Little, Love a Lot

Loneliness can be conquered only by those who can bear solitude.  ~Paul Tillich

Within the richness of the last few months, I am surrounded by indescribable energy, love, and promise.   However, even in the busiest of times, with people all around me, I am prone to loneliness if I fail to find solitude, taking for granted my absolute best friend….me.  Till the end of my time here on earth, I will have been my own oldest and dearest companion, and I quickly recall that empty ache in the pit of my stomach when I do not make time to nurture this important bond with self.

Today amidst all the beautiful gifts and chaos of Eater Sunday, I found myself feeling restless and insecure, stretched thin and wondering what the future holds for me.  Thankfully I trusted and respected the notion that I do come back to center when I take myself to nature.  Why then not just go do it?  Why the procrastination and build-up prior, leading me to wipe the kitchen counters 15 times first, and repeatedly de-clutter the dining room table to no avail with my house full of guests? Why not just leave that house and all its unanswered questions instantly, and fill up my lungs with the clean air of a spring that’s still chilly, exhaling toxicity in return.  Even with all this rigmarole, I did make it out, thankfully.  I ran an unusual route this late Sunday morning, on a mystery grassy trail that ultimately brought me to the wetlands behind the neighborhood, stubby flexible twigs in the earth nipping at my ankles, calves aching pushing off the spongy April earth.  I wound back towards home on the packed dirt  paths of the cemetery beneath huge drooping pine trees.

And I remembered.  Happiness is much more simple to achieve than we often believe it to be.

So I believe I finally got out of my own head today, and bounced back from the stress of Christmas.  But true to form, my self involved moody phase is replaced with a sappy sensitive phase.  I was moved to tears three times today. 

Once at the sight of my favorite landmark on my way to the gym at 6:30 am this morning:

Next during cardio when this commercial came on:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eNMnxs7B1ZY

And the third time when my uncle who’s been on my mind for a lot of different reasons lately, who I haven’t talked to in a long time, and who’s not typically a “write-to-me-kinda-guy” sent me a very beautiful email. 

I love when I can remember what’s important, and forget about what’s not.

I was never one to say I dread the holidays.  In fact, I always found it overly dramatic and cliche to comment on the stress of the holidays, and was a big believer in the idea that we control how much stress we allow into our holiday existence, and how much joy we take from it.  I was humbled this Christmas season in that as much as I felt I had “simplified” and as spiritually grounded as I believed I had been coming into December, I struggled this Christmas! 

I noticed an old familiar itchy restless feeling gnawing at me over the course of the last week.  I picked nervously and compulsively at my food instead of eating it confidently for fuel.  I didn’t know what I wanted or didn’t want.  My eyes and skin looked drab and puffy when I looked in the mirror.  I contemplated my relationship with sugar from every possible angle you could imagine.  I didn’t know so many angles of sugar existed!  I found myself distracted by these ideas and less able to focus on and connect with my family and friends.  It was mid-day on December 25th that a wave of relief washed over me when I suddenly remembered this fundamental premise.  Distraction.  That’s what all these obsessive thoughts are.  That’s what an eating disorder is.  That’s what a diet is!  It’s all just distraction.  It’s all just a way to not feel, and to not connect with what’s in front of you.  I reflected on the immensity of the idea of “wasted time” and how wonderful it would be to get back the days we had flushed down the toilet distracted by something that didn’t matter.

Perhaps I didn’t eat an Ultrametabolism Diet over Christmas.  Perhaps I ate more sugar than is my preference.  But my heart swells with gratitude and pride when I remember to refrain from judgement and celebrate the absolutely amazing ways that I take care of myself in so many areas of my life.  When I find my thoughts drifting to being “perfect” a lot, or having the feeling of regret in the pit of my stomach, there are serious clues that that something is off kilter.  I have made it through a holiday season exercising 6 days a week, establishing more intense fitness goals with each passing session, and have continued to prioritize nutritious foods overall regardless of whatever bumps in the road I encountered.  These are the behaviors of a woman who loves and respects herself…a woman who sometimes falls down, and is still OK.  I am far from perfect, but I am authentic…..and I am relentless.  I can promise you that.

 Yesterday morning my client brought me these beautiful branches.  I already had some Bittersweet branches, which are a very well done artificial variety, so I decided to mix in the real stuff for a breathtaking arrangement.  I am so amazed that colors like this exist in nature….and at how good they look with my blue walls!!   

Later that afternoon, we went back to my parents house to help them out again.  When the finished product is put together I’ll post some pictures.  My mom will not let me post the disarray going on currently, but believe me, it will be worth it when it’s done!  Afterwards, we went over to Melissa and Dave’s and played with them, two little girls, Rianna and Sarah, and two hotdogs, Tutter and Rosie. 

Such a great time, and so nice to relax and not have to do anything except gossip and laugh.  We had Indian food for dinner from Sitar and I have to say, it was unequivocally the best Indian Food I’ve ever had in my life.  Even Todd, who thinks he does not like Indian food, took a break from his Chicken Parm sub we ordered seperately for him, and enjoyed a sample of Tiki Masala.  “I would eat this in a restaurant sometime.”  Horray!  A new option for date night!!

When I woke up this morning I was a little anxious because I have had the task of cooking and packaging dark chocolate candy cane fudge for my staff over my head for several weeks, and today it was finally time.  As delicious and cute a gift as fudge is to give, it is definitely a trigger food to me, and my eating has not been as clean as I would like it to be the last couple weeks.  I started the day off right and had this Vanilla Peanut Butter Smoothie.

• 1 cup Silk Orignal Flavor Soymilk
• 1 scoop Vanilla protein powder
• 1 Tbsp peanut butter
• dash of cinnamon
• 3 ice cubes

But even so, I did find myself compulsively sampling little slivers and crumbs of fudge, and started feeling a little panicky, sugar-drunk and sick, and called a dear friend  of mine who I knew would get it, for support.  We talked about how off kilter our body image and behaviors can become if we get stuck in the cycle of perfectionism and shame, and ultimately made a plan to let it go and move on with the day healthfully and gently.   

“And you gotta remember, the holidays are bittersweet Claire,” she reminded me. 

“Yeah Ghiradelli bittersweet chocolate fudge with candy canes….I’m dying over here,” and we laughed.

I hung up the phone having moved from shameful, guilty, sick from the sugar, and anxious I wouldn’t stop eating it, to grateful that I had been able to get out of myself enough to acknowledge that support from someone like me would help me right then, and miraculously, the sugar craving and sick feeling of regret, was lifted.  This is a big deal for in my the sicker times of days gone by, I would never have asked for help situations like this.  Regardless of what our individual issue is, (mine is an eating disorder) I believe we all will always have skeletons in the closet who try to come out and visit from time to time.  I know that I handle my visitors differently at this point in my life, and it requires my doing things differently, not doing it alone, and sometimes being uncomfortable.

I love the Serenity Prayer, because it is truly a simple little formula for living, and you can apply it to any situation where you feel scared or unsure:

“Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change (In this case, eating the fudge I didn’t want to eat)….The courage to change the things I can (In this case asking for help to get through it, and continuing to make healthy loving choices for myself with no interuption–a nice nutritious dinner, and a good “Body for Life” workout in the morning)….And the wisdom to know the difference.”

I feel happier and more relaxed now that the treats are all packaged up and ready to go to go to my staff in the morning.  I have learned that when it comes to fudge, I get more pleasure from giving then from indulging.  An occassional treat can be a wonderful thing, but it’s pretty important to understand which foods you can be safe and healthy with, and which foods may lead you too far astray from where you wish to be.  I think I may have determined that I am a girl who has no business eating fudge.

I’m feeling a little low today.  Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I can’t walk from after yesterday’s lower body regimen.  Perhaps it was my icy cold melancholy drive home.  Perhaps it’s hormonal.  Perhaps it’s the family dynamics that always seem more overwhelming around the holidays, weighing on my heart and spirit.  It is amazing though, how easy it is to find myself poking around the kitchen cabinets not even realizing how I got there, or what I’m actually doing. 

I talk for a living, and try to live a life of positivity to practice what I preach, but some days it’s just as simple as I need to isolate in my fluffy flannel bed with my books and my laptop, away from the kitchen, and alone with my thoughts.  Sometimes allowing myself to be in this place is even be a tiny bit enjoyable. 

My family was already always complicated and has continued to evolve.  All in all it was a beautiful Thanksgiving.  I am very grateful and will try never to forget my incredible blessings, even if I feel sad, scared, or lonely. 

There is a picture hanging on the side of my fridge amidst lots of other scraps of paper, photos, and memorabilia.  Todd isn’t

Race Day, Dawn

 particularly impressed by the cropped picture with its evidence of some guy from the past cut out of it.  I am impressed by the picture because my tanned skin glows against the white of my flowy skirt.  A light aqua sweater is wrapped tightly around my tiny waist.  My hair was long and golden, I wore silver strappy heels, and I was in the best shape of my life.  The photo was taken outside a bar called The Alehouse in Troy, NY., my hometown, in my early 20′s.  Yesterday ironically, roughly one third of the way through my race, I passed that very same bar.  Outside the Alehouse was a mob of people cheering as I ran through a cloud of their cigarette smoke, and the smell of stale beer. 

The streets I ran yesterday were lined with ghosts of my past, and I had under-estimated the emotional impact this would have on my run.  The adrenaline induced euphoria I experience alone in the wooded paths Saratoga State Park had left me, and running the impoverished city streets instead, I was flooded with reminders of the insecurity and self doubt that I walked with daily in years passed.

I got to thinking about that photograph on my fridge, and how I had conducted my life to achieve that body.  And so I continued my run, slow, steady, and sans euphoria quietly remembering the starvation diets, the hangovers, the cigarettes and coffee, the dry skin, thick tongue, mysterious bruises, and baseline functioning on little sleep and a pounding headache.  Enveloped by memories and negative energy, I felt the fears bubbling up…maybe I’m really not as strong or great as I thought I was?…what if I really can’t finish this race?…maybe I don’t belong with these ”real” athletes.   I fought the fears, and ultimately won the battle by reminding myself of this one simple thing:  Running is just like life.  There are days you feel like a million bucks, and there are days where you feel very…average…at best.  And still some days where you feel less than average, disturbed even.  Being haunted by old ghosts is not absolute.  Feeling scared does not mean there is a real threat.  If you stay the course and just keep going, you will feel good again.  Just because you do not feel euphoric, does not mean you jump ship.  You actually just keep running.  And so I did.  Yesterday morning I ran 6.2 miles in 1hour, 8 minutes, and 30 seconds.  It’s as simple as that.

I’m driving home from work, my cell phone rings, and her name flashes across my caller ID.  “Her” being one of my oldest friends, you know the one, together you’ve seen it all, and for the purposes of this blog, I’ll call her Michelle.  I pick up on the phone on her third attempt to reach me that day.  “The issue is, my battery’s been about to die all day,” are the first and only words out of my mouth, and she starts laughing.  

To put Michelle and me in context: Remember the scene is “When Harry Met Sally” when Sally’s best friend Marie tells Sally stories over and over about the married man she’s having the affair with? The redundant recaps of her escapades always concluded with “Sally, I don’t think he’s ever going to leave her!” and Sally says, “Marie, no one thinks he’s ever going to leave her.” and Marie says “You’re right.  I know you’re right.”  That’s me and Michelle.  We have laughed about, and essentially lived that scene in one way or another since the movie came out in 1989.   

So without getting into Michelle’s personal identifying information, let me just tell you, she’s not having an affair with a married man, but she’s had quite a rough year.  Hoping my blackberry battery would cut us a break I listened attentively, as she had put me on notice that she needed counsel.  “Analysis” I think was her word choice actually.  So we did our dance.  She told me what the scumbag (my word, not hers) was up to, and I reminded her why we should not care.  If I’m being honest,  I think historically of the two of us, I was typically the one saying “you don’t need this loser,” and although I told her my share of stories with loser-guy protagonists, she was far more disciplined at neutrality than I.  But our common bond was the “joy of the wallow.”  She reminded me tonight how special it is to have a friend who will listen to the wallow when everyone else wants you to be over it.  Do I want her to be over him?  Abso-f-ing-lutely.  However, this desire is trumped by my knowledge that the wallow is sacred.  People do not get over pain until they have had sufficient time to wallow.  In the therapy world, we call it “validating.”  If someone is not allowed to wallow, they are not being “validated.”  If they are not validated, they do not heal.  Instead, they try to find a million different ways to describe their pain to their friends untill they’re understood.  This is the scenario when the friends get burnt out. 

So in short, wallowing is an investment in your friendship.  Nurture the wallow, and the friendship will blossom.  I told Michelle my theory about the measure of a healthy romantic relationship.  You can go ahead and research this topic thoroughly.  Read “Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus,” take every cosmo quiz, ask your therapist, ask the Psychic Friends Network.  Or you could save yourself all the work and do this simple excercise:  Get in the car.  Turn on the radio and drive.  Picture your boyfriend or husband.  Ask yourself if you relate to the angst and insecurity in 90% of songs about love.  My Ipod’s filled with ‘em.  And I spent many melancholy days driving in my car or holed up with a glass of wine and a pack of Marlboro Lights relating to ’em.  But something happened a couple years ago when I met Todd.  I stopped relating to the songs.  They’re still good, I guess, but they don’t depress me and transport me to the optimum wallow session they once did.  Herein I made the determination I was in my first healthy relationship.  Try it!  It’s fascinating.  

I’m proud of Michelle.  She’s gonna be fine.  And I appreciate through our friendship that I stay connected to my roots.  I’ve never been happier in my love life, or more grateful.  But everyone needs a good wallow once in a while.

I’m working on feeling feelings. Noticing them, labeling them, accepting them, and realizing that uncomfortable feelings are a part of life. A part of everyone’s life. Wanting to eat when I’m not hungry or it’s not meal time is just an indicator that I don’t feel like feeling a feeling. If I am open to feeling the feeling, and consider that first, usually the drive to eat will pass.

I never used to fully buy “emotional eating.” When people would talk about what emotion they ate over, sadness, happiness, fear, I just couldn’t relate. I thought, “I like to eat over any emotion, that’s why I don’t think the eating is emotional. It’s just eating, and I like it.” But I’ve come to realize, it’s not that I ate over just any emotion, it’s that I’ve never been aware of what my feeling actually is. The sad reality is that in order to appear functional to myself and others, I suppressed feelings so deeply that I often felt numb or disconnected. It is with sobriety and through recovery that I am learning that these feelings actually exist; noticing, not judging, accepting, and trusting that they will pass. What an astonishing, amazing, and interesting process to get to know this part of myself. I used to be afraid of acknowledging discomfort because I thought it symbolized weakness. How much love and respect it takes to allow myself to feel discomfort and not judge myself for that feeling.

Tomorrow I weigh myself again, and probably I have lost some from my vacation/water weight fiasco, but perhaps not all. As you see thematically running through some of my other posts, I have definitely been struggling with feelings of fear and inadequacy lately, but allowing myself to notice those feelings, I did not let them swallow me up. I stayed present with the feelings, and continued to live my life behaving like the person I want to be, even when I didn’t always feel like the person I want to be. What happens tomorrow on the scale has no bearing on my commitment to this blog, and to living my life rich with love for myself and others one day at a time. That is who I ultimately want to be, unflappable and self-possessed. I am where I am supposed to be today. As a result, I know that ultimately, the scale will end up where it’s supposed to as well.