100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 61

Breakfast:  Nothing
Lunch:  Frozen dinner, enchilada thing, 2 snack bags of cranberries
Dinner:  Last of the roast beef, horseradish/mayonnaise mixture, green beans
Snack:  Cheddar Crackefuls, 2

In the past 24 hours I have slept for more than 14.  I woke early, was up for a few minutes and went back to bed, sleeping until noon.  I have managed to stay up all day, and whilst I do not feel ill, I know that I could have easily gone for a nap or two.  I am headed off in a few minutes, but I only got up at noon because the telephone rang.  I always answer the phone, you just never know when it will be important, although it rarely is.  This is going to be long and it is all the fault of that telephone call.  (Note:  I just re-read this, sort of, and it is long and boring and biased.  Even so, I stand by it, typos, rotten syntax, rambling, confusion, preachiness and all.)

I think that the most important work that we do in our lives is to live the best life that we can, take care of our families, even the members who drive us insane.  So, family first.

Next is our faith community, which does not even have to be the church to which we belong, just a place that does good works.  Even if you are of a different spiritual path, they will be happy to welcome you into their social service work.  I accept that many people will always put God first, but that is not my way.  Whether you believe anything about a higher power or not, the first thing most of us experience is family, and to my mind, even with a God, that God gave us family...and later friends...first, long before we could even begin to come to faith, so that must mean something, yes?

The next step outwards is our neighborhoods.  Over the years I have lost contact with the people who lived nearest to me, as they moved away and other people moved in.  We live in a sort of transitional area, with people stopping here on their way to someplace better.  We are here because it was the only location we could afford and it has served us well for nearly 36 years.  I know and am conversant with only four other families.  That is kind of shameful, because I do not know if there is anyone around here who does not have family or friends that check up on them.  I would just hate to find out that someone needed help and did not know any of us well enough to reach out.  It makes me think of that woman in Australia that died and no one missed her for years.  I mean, how sad and unfortunate is that. 

So, anyway, this is inspired by a telephone call requesting a charitable donation.  When I expressed my inability to help them, the woman was nice enough, though clearly disappointed that I did not hand over my inconsiderable wealth to her.  That, the last part, is not true, but when I asked to be put on their no-call list, because receiving these calls is so distressing to me, she got all snarky and called me selfish before she disconnected.

That reminded me of a similar call, oh, about ten years ago, from our state's public radio system.  I had been a regular contributor for decades, but that time was one of struggle for me and I just could not make even a small donation.  This was around the time of the annual fund drive (they only had one each year then), and the station or a volunteer, most likely, was making cold calls to former contributors, and when I explained that I could not donate anything that year, her response was something like, oh, surely you can't be so cheap that you can't send five dollars or something, and, well, that stung a bit, too. 

An earlier experience, around 35 years ago was a call-center call for the Special Olympics.  The guy who called was really rude and pushy and when I kept trying to explain that we figured out what we could afford to donate each year and then chose a few organizations to whom we would make that donation, and that I was happy to add them to the list for the following year because we have donated to them in the past, he called me a couple of names, ones I am unwilling to share here, mostly because I am trying so hard to not curse any more.

Even though those three incidents were locally based, they did nothing to diminish me desire to do stuff that was not about me.  You know?  And, see, I am all over the place today, Diary, so sorry about that.

Over the years I have participated in tons of local and far-flung charitable programs.  I think that being involved in stuff beyond my own, personal needs is important, maybe even essential for my own well being.  I have volunteered and donated for all of my adult life, and began taking my daughter to things like the community food programs in the city near us, when she was nearly five years old and allowed to participate.  She helped to read the recipes and create a shopping list, do the shopping and the cooking, and come along to the sites.  There she could only help to clean up the tables and bring extras to the participants, but it was one of the things that helped her to become the generous and careful person that she is today.

All of this brings me to where I am on this issue today.   I suspect that few people will agree with me, Diary, but I have some strong feelings about this.

If you are going to be charitable, then do it locally.  It is my belief that the only exception should be for any service, product or other support for our military personnel and their families.  As far as the governments of the world are concerned, if they are going to use military force to solve, ameliorate or defer their issues with other governments or groups, then, as far as I am concerned those creeps are on their own.  Unfortunately, in order to play their little war games, they need bodies to become fodder for their dreams of manifesting on the big stage their own insecurities and shortcomings, aspects they are unable to manage in their personal lives.

Seriously.  All of that filters down to individual people suffering.  I care about that aspect, I really and truly do.  If anyone cares to dispute my dedication to helping wherever help is needed, I am perfectly ready, more than willing, and able, to duke it out with you in person.  I do not consider myself a particularly violent person, nor do I endorse or support violence of any kind, and I am not the teeniest bit comfortable handling up-close-and-personal weapons, much less those of mass destruction, but I am willing to stand up for my beliefs, and this is one of them.  Alrighty, I am being ironical about the whole duking it out part.  I would not hit anyone or even have an argument because I do not do conflict of any kind, but just because I am a pacifist, it does not mean that I am a doormat.

The keep it local thing extends to adoptions, disaster relief, world-wide relief efforts and anything else of which you can think or find an organization willing to lend a helping hand.  Seriously.  I feel that strictly and that strongly about this.  I empathize as much as anyone when the call comes for assistance to a far-flung country experiencing a natural disaster or governmental screw-up or, well, anything.  I used to do that, too, jump to put in my pittance so that it would join all of the other pittances to make enough to feed the hungry, support medical aid, send blankets, baby clothes, clean drinking water, encourage and support local-based enterprises and the entrepreneurial spirit, animal husbandry and all the rest.  I used to financially support the efforts of a whole bunch of organizations, both local and all over the planet.

I know that giving is essential to living for me.  I need to share what I have with other people and organizations that help those who have even less than I do.  Were I lucky enough to have more money than I knew what to do with, I would be even more generous.  Frankly, I am more prosperous than many of the people on the planet, but whilst that is not an entirely separate issue, this is already too long and even I am losing interest in this, so much the worse for you, Diary.

However, during all of that donating, there were always situations, circumstances or conditions in my own community that went begging for funds.  I have always supported local needs, whatever they might be, but not to the extent that I could have, because my efforts were diluted by all of the other stuff I was supporting.  The truth is that even when you know about something or a lot of somethings, you simply cannot help everyone.

As for the arguments that there will always be countries who simply cannot help their own people, that is certainly true, but it is often the consequence of poorly designed or implemented efforts, and way too often corrupt officials and governments.  Frankly, the keep sending aid to those places means that you are actually supporting the local despots and that little, if any, of the money and supplies sent to those places ever filters down to the people who really need it.  Any doubts about that can quickly be shattered by a little research.  And, the plain and simple truth is that corrupt or clueless officials never seem to be educated and encouraged, much less censured or punished in an effort to change their ways, meaning that the people will always be suffering with no end possible or in sight.  

I know that makes me sound supremely selfish, but it is not possible to do everything and I decided to have more focus and immediacy in how I donate and volunteer.  I honor whatever and however other people choose to use their resources, but this is what works for me; my preference is to be as up close and personal with my giving as I am with everything else in my life.  Whatever you do, great, and there are sufficient personal opportunities for you to help someone, because your own community is full of volunteer opportunities just waiting to be filled.  Some of the more easily found are your faith community, veteran's organizations (even our tiny village has one), schools, hospitals, your local volunteer center, correctional facility, and so much more.

I care about people first, but just as important is your local humane society/organization, and whilst this is an issue that deserves it's own conversation, I am going to share a bit of what I have learned from 28 years of rescue work.  One of the more important things I learned from all of those years is that if it is possible to influence and teach children about humane treatment of animals, it often filters into the home, and through that child's life, how essential it is to be a good caretaker and steward of every living thing.  If you fall under the thrall of a group that claims to be a non-kill shelter/group, it is certainly better than nothing, because even a group that claims to be no-kill, well, the first time they turn away any animal (any condition, temperament, health) and even if that is related to the limits of their resources, that animal has to go to a municipal shelter or organization, which takes in every animal that comes to their door.  No-kill groups/shelters have the luxury of taking only the animals for which they have a decent chance of finding permanent homes, but that means that they are simply passing the burden to a facility that often has no alternative but the euthanize animals who are not lucky enough to find decent homes.  Municipal shelters have limited resources, as well, but they never turn anyone or any animal away from their doors.  If a no-kill organization passes on a single animal, for whatever reason, then they, and everyone who works or volunteers with them, hold the same responsibility for the eventual death of that animal, just the same as if you had been there, held the animal and used the drugs to end it's life.  No different.  Clearly this holds a large amount of energy for me, but right is right, no matter how one tries to nuance it.

So.

There are local volunteer centers all over the world.  Just go to Google and type in

volunteer center (then add your city, town, county, whatever)

You will find links to your center and they are wonderful at matching the interests and skills of volunteers to the needs in your own community.

Here are some links to find local places that could really use your help and/or donations.

Big Brothers Big Sisters
http://www.bbbs.org/site/c.9iILI3NGKhK6F/b.5962335/k.BE16/Home.htm

Habitat for Humanity
One of the many great things about Habitat is their ReStores, where they sell materials that were left over from projects and/or donated materials that they cannot use in their projects.  This is a great opportunity for volunteering, as well as finding home building and repair materials for your own projects, whilst support some seriously wonderful work.
http://www.habitat.org/default.aspx

American Red Cross (There is likely to be a similar organization where you live.)
http://www.redcross.org/

Volunteer Match
http://www.volunteermatch.org/

Corporation for National and Community Service
This includes:

•     AmeriCorps
•     Citizen Corps
•     Learn and Serve America
•     National Conference on Volunteering and Service
•     Peace Corps
•     Senior Corps
•     Volunteers for Prosperity
•     Federal Civil Service
•     Foreign Service
•     Military
•     State and Local Government
•     U. S. Public Health Service
•     Veterans Affairs
•     Volunteer.gov/gov

http://www.serve.gov/

This kind of mess is what happens when you are not getting the right amount of sleep.  Just saying.


Location still broken.  Alas.  How will I know where I am? 

GP
Bloom where you are planted.

Oh, I like this one

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 58

Breakfast:  Watermelon, corn
Lunch:  Corn
Dinner:  Cottage cheese, seedy rice crackers
Snack:  8 ounces of canned pineapple in juice, 3 snack-sized packages of dried cranberries...oh, the shame
Snack:  Cottage cheese...and hide the crackers!!

So, anyway, I bought these crackers because they had few ingredients, brown rice flour and a whole bunch of seeds.  I thought that I could eat something healthy and if they were terrible, so much the better.  Not that I wanted terrible tasting crackers, but it would be at least one thing that was reasonable in my cabinet.  Unfortunately, they are really delicious.  I was using the quiet around here today to catch up on refining some resources for my clients.  By the time I got around to the crackers, I was deep into some complicated stuff and before I knew it, the cheese was gone and I had been dipping my hand into the cracker bag and had eaten lots.  Too many, but at least they are healthy, yes?

The second snack is not yet eaten, but that might happen any minute now.

Yesterday's SAD is over it seems.  I am back to what passes for normal here, eating wise, and it feels much better.  I intentionally ate much less today.  Yeah, I know that you cannot make up for overeating like that, just like you cannot really catch up on missed sleep, but it made me feel a bit more virtuous or something.  You know, this whole eating issue is such a burden for me.  I have a freaking lifetime of neglect, lack of resources, guilt and shame to last a dozen lifetimes. 

All I want is to come to some reasonableness, some measure of comfort, a ceasefire, if you will, before I die, which if I am unable to accomplish this might be much sooner than I want.  It is O.K. to not want to die too soon, yes?  To not lose any toes to diabetes or go blind or have a stroke, yes?  Yes.  But, if I continue to be unable to find the courage, some responsibility or strength of character to care enough about myself so that I can embrace health and all of the work that it requires, then I am going to die in the near-ish future, or wish that I would.  I can do this crap for other people, why is it so difficult to do it for myself?  Whatever.

GP

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 50

Breakfast:  Nothing
Lunch:  Nothing
Dinner:  Nothing, yet

So, anyway, Dear Diary, I have been feeling so good about just everything.  A life is not static.  Stuff happens.  Uncertainty is the one thing of which you can be certain, especially if you are going to do more than stay home in your little cave and not be involved in anything.  Oh, lordy, does stuff happen.  You know, I would not have it any other way.  Really.

A lot of days without serious problems, except for the usual ones around here.  I went to the fruit festival yesterday and it was great and then today happened.  It is not worth writing about here, but it was pretty terrible and it was made clear that it was, not exactly punishment for having a life, but sort of like the consequences of doing things that someone does not want me to do.  I kind of crumbled into pieces earlier, but am better now. 

I was trying so hard to make this work here and praying about it and asking for some way to resolves some of the stuff.  Well, you often get exactly what you ask for and that manifested early this morning.  It is just that I was unprepared for how it happened, as in caught completely off-guard.  You know, just when you think that being a good person, doing all of the right things for the right reasons, that all of that love and support will come back to you in some measure, it does not.  Well, that is the way it goes.  I should not ever be surprised, but I am.  Over and over. 

Once I recovered from the shock, I was fine.  I will be better, but, gosh, I do not think that I will ever get used to this and that I will always be stunned when it happens again.  The deliberate cruelty is, what, a new heartbreak every single time.  I have had hours to think about this and, whilst I am sort of, kind of all right with being a person who can still have the whole breaking of the heart thing, it would be fine with me if it never happened again.

I will be gone for three days this week, which will only make things worse, big-picture-wise, but it is too late to do anything about that.  I am going to think of it as the calm before the storm and enjoy as much of it as I can.  I need the time away to make some plans, figure out what to do, stay sane.  You know, like that.

It is interesting, though, that I am sort of, kind of back to feeling good.  The bad stuff is really only beginning, but I was, am, able to bounce back even though this sadness will be with me for a while I am guessing.  At some point, I am just going to have to accept that maybe what the heart wants is not what is best.  I am resisting that.  I have to, if only to know for certain that I did everything possible to make this work.  It is all so sad. 

But, I am strong, and strong in a way that I have not been for a long time.  Maybe I never had this kind of strength before.  It feels new, so perhaps that is true.  Anyway, nothing here is going to destroy me, not the stuff that happens, not the made-up stories, not the misunderstanding from others, none of it.  I have this crazy feeling that I do not have any responsibility to defend myself against any of the stories and the consequences of stories being told.  I know, Diary, that I am being obtuse, but I am doing that a lot lately.  Even writing this to myself in this manner seems like a defense, but I am hoping that it is not.  If I cannot be seen for who I am, then, well, so be it.  Hell, I do that for other people, they can do it for me, dammit!

Anyway, I am still not hungry, but might have some ice cream and go to bed early.  I have some serious divesting to do tomorrow.

And, bloody hell, I still feel good.  Man.

As for GP, the hearts are feeling as though they are part of the sadness, so I am off to make something more cheerful.  Be right back.
Alrighty, here goes.

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 42

Breakfast:  Drive-through sandwiches, 2 of them, Diet Rite, 1
Lunch:  Reuben sandwich, inside of a piece of rhubarb custard pie, cole slaw
Dinner:  Huge salad of iceberg, cucumbers, carrots, celery, tomato and a tiny bite of three pasta salads, 1 roll, butter, 3 tiny cup things of the best soup I have had in a long time
Snacks:  See below...somewhere

The day started early, so I was unable to make breakfast at home, thus the two breakfast sandwiches, which I finished whilst waiting for the coach to come to pick up the weekend gamblers.

So, O.K., there were snacks on the coach.  Lots of snacks.  I mistyped it as smacks, and they were pretty much that.  Apparently, the belief of this tour director is to keep everyone eating, munching and playing bingo so as to reduce any spare time for the old folks to fall into mischief.  It worked.  There was a contest to guess how many Tootsie Roll Pops were in the jar.  Only one person won, but everyone got two suckers.  One was pomegranate flavoured, and it was and it was yummy.

Then sweet and salty snacks, like in full sized packages, were passed out.  Then Twizzlers and, gosh, I cannot remember everything.  By the time we arrived at the casino, it was a miracle that everyone was still awake.  I am guessing the bingo helped for those who were playing.

Dinner was at any of the restaurants and, slowly recovering from my blood-sugar coma, I chose the one with the salad bar option.  There was not a huge selection, and the pasta salads were kind of foul and what the hell was that dessert thing that looked like some kind of cinnamon scented school paste?  Everything else was just what you want, fresh, crisp and delicious.  I took some blue cheese dressing and dipped all of the stuff into it.  But, the star was the whitefish chowder.  If I thought that I would not look the fool by going back for a fourth little cup, I would have.  Their cups/bowls held only a half-cup measure, so I really am not such a pig as it might seem.

After that lovely dinner, I went to spend the free playing money they give everyone and then hauled myself to my room, which was fabulous.  I was looking forward to watching television, but it was so confusing that I finally gave up and just went to sleep.

Now, this trip.  Someone who is not me did not want me to go.  That person never wants me to go anywhere, not to work, not to visit our daughter, not to visit with his family, not Saturday morning coffee with my friends, not anywhere.  This would not be such a big deal for me, but promises were made for retirement time.  Every one was broken and now because that someone does not want to go anywhere, the only reasonable extension of that is that no one goes anywhere.  That has been the rule for, well, for always, but it simply is not good enough any more.

Financially, we are in much the same place as most people, perhaps a bit better.  It is with great reluctance that I am allowed to use one of the cars and put gasoline in it.  You know, I am really and truly grateful for being allowed to do that.  We do not have public transportation within four miles of here, and without that car, I would have to stay home or beg rides from other people.  But, really, how often can you do that, the whole expecting other people to haul your sorry ass around.  More importantly, I would not be able to see my daughter and her family very often, nor could I do any volunteer work and that would distress me beyond understanding.  I am also allowed to spend money on groceries, but I suspect that is because I am willing to do the shopping.  Other than that, I pay for everything out of my social security, which I am totally fine doing.

So, dear Diary, I am not going to complain about this anymore, but I am still going to keep planning these small and unbelievably inexpensive trips.  I will still offer to pay for someone who is not me to come along on them, well, at least some of them, but I am not going to stop going and I am not going to be buried by the consequences of being independent about this.  I am willing to pay the cost for keeping on with this.  O.K., I will probably weaken when it is especially bad and complain, although I hope to not do it too often.

One more day of the trip to post about.

Do I have any stockpiled GPs?

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 21

Breakfast:  Eggs, steak, fruit, freaking bran muffin
Lunch:  Lobster, cauliflower, yogurt dip
Dinner:  Cauliflower, yogurt dip

So, anyway, Saturday is coffee and breakfast with my friends.  It used to be just coffee, but we ran out of just plain coffee shops and started going to places where they serve more than muffins and bagels and stuff like that.  I think that I am quitting the group because two of them are so rude to the wait staff and all complainy and generally being pains in the ass. It is uncomfortable all of the time, and downright embarrassing some of the time.  No one will say anything to either of them, and I am no exception, mostly because I do not want anyone else to call me out on any of my crap.  One of them is late for everything.  Really, everything.  Yet, each week she complains to us and sometimes to a waiter about how long it takes for her to get her food.  This one makes me laugh...a lot...because she groused about how it took ten minutes for her to get her pot of tea, even after the waiter shared with her that it was taking a little longer to be prepared.  Yeah, she is mostly amusing; so is the other woman.  I like them so much, but really, the Universe does not revolve around any of us, particularly in a busy restaurant.  Yes?  Aw, more likely I am being too critical, to judgmental, to much of a bitch.  Either way, staying home will be better for everyone.

I guess that will eliminate the muffin issue I faced today.  The place they chose does not have any à la carte items.  You have to order a whole, pre-designed meal.  You can try to ask to not have some of the items, like fried or hashed potatoes, toast, English muffins and regular muffins, but they sometime bring them to the table anyway.  I am guessing that bringing everything eliminates any fuss from their customers about paying for a whole meal and not ordering all of it's components.  So, they give you everything and you get to decide if you want to eat it.

Yeah, great solution to bartering customers, but there is that toast or some kind of muffin sitting there, a little glossy on top, raisins poking out from the branny and delicious smelling goodness.  My goodness.  I offered the muffin to the table, but because all of them got their whole meal, there were no takers, not even to take it home for later.

I ate my eggs and the tiny, rare, tender steak.  I nibbled at the sliced and diced fruit, then ate most of it.  I drank cup after cup of coffee (easy to do as they leave pots of it at the table), hoping to fill myself up so that there would be no room for muffins.  Man.  There was room for muffins.  I ate nearly half of it.  It was wonderful, nice and crumbly because of all the bran, just enough raisins.  But, it also had sugar in it, and some regular flour to hold it all together.  No bliss there.

Even worse than eating half is that I brought the other half home and ate it mid-afternoon, although I am counting it as breakfast.

Why, after three weeks of this do I have such a ridiculously low amount of self control?  I suck.  Really.

Alrighty, then, the lobster.  I have been tossing out too much food that has gone bad waiting for me to cook it.  I could pack those things away in the freezer, but I have only a small, bottom of the fridge freezer and it is already full of food that I never cooked and have socked away in there so that I would not have to throw it in the garbage.  Now, if I would actually thaw some of that crap and cook it, there would be room for more potential garbage, but I do not thaw and cook for the very same reason that all of that stuff ended up in the freezer in the first place.

I run out of energy to do much actual cooking.  For a while, I was buying frozen meals when they were on sale and eating those.  It was great.  They start off in the freezer and they eventually get eaten and there is no waste.  But, then I decided to eat more healthy food and that is why the freezer is at full capacity.

My solution is to shop for just a couple of days at a time.  So far it is working fine.  I have thrown away only some leftovers and some greens that went all wonky.  It means more stops on the way home from work and stuff, but that is not a problem, except when my energy fails and it is too difficult to stop, shop and haul my sorry behind in and out of the store.  For those days, I have filled a small shelf with canned soup, microwave popcorn and crackers.  There is iceberg lettuce, apples and some kind of hardy vegetable in the refrigerator almost all of the time, just to give the healthy food thing some credibility.

Got all my bases covered.

The  larder here was pretty empty.  Condiments, sugar-free syrups (for making plain water more appealing), pre-cooked bacon, and some cilantro is what was in there.  So, I stopped at a market on the way home from coffee this morning.  They were having a sale on lobster.  You paid $10 for one, about a pound each I guess, they cooked it for you in these huge cauldrons in front of the store, chilled them in ice water and you were set to go.

It was really good, that poor dead creature.  It was perfectly cooked and I ate everything edible, including the coral, which I really like.  It was a late lunch, after 3:00, but so filling and satisfying, juicy and, like, perfect.  So, not hungry much at dinner, and more cauliflower and some yogurt with ranch dressing powder was fine.

I have to take one of my ss women to lunch tomorrow, but for the next few days I am all set.  I have individually portioned, frozen beef patties, a couple of smoked port chops, green beans, the rest of the cauliflower (a bit more than half), peaches for breakfast or dinner tomorrow, 2 dozen eggs (some of which I will hard cook), celery, a tomato, asparagus, lemon juice for making rosewater lemonade, plenty of yogurt, blueberries, and the iceberg lettuce.

You know, I do not want to eliminate all sweets and other pleasurable foods from what I eat.  I do not want to make this about sacrifice so severe that I am afraid to enjoy myself and what I eat.  I have several trips scheduled for next month, August and October, and I want to eat the meals they provide and not get all angsty about what I am eating or not eating.

What I am doing now has to be a way of eating that I can comfortably follow for the rest of my life.  That is supposed to be the path to healthful eating that can last a lifetime.  Anything else will not work, and I have decades of proof that drastically changing to only certain foods is an exercise in failure on a grand scale.  I have already lost enough weight to notice it.  My clothes feel slightly looser and there is a reduction in the bulge-age in a certain area.  My bra is too big and some of my big girl panties are in danger of dropping when I least expect or desire them to do so.

So, this is working, and I would like to keep it that way.  I do not want to deprive myself of yummy and delicious alternatives to the junk and carbs that have been the mainstay of my diet for so long.  I am spending more money on groceries, but the quality of food has dramatically increased.  So, it is all good.  No one knows how much longer they will live, I am no exception to that, and I would very much like to spend the remaining time that I have not being fat.  I would like that very, very much.

Maybe every incidence of slippage in the whole will-power failures has been an opportunity to examine what food means to me beyond something that keeps you alive.  Maybe I need to pay closer attention to those incidents.  Not let them discourage or define me.

There are moments when this seems too difficult.  A month ago I would have sworn that I was not a person who ate in response to emotions.  An emotional eater?  Not me.  Now I know that I eat according to how I feel, particularly when I am feeling frightened, threatened and lonely.  That is such a difficult thing to accept.  Yet, if this is going to work this time, I have to find a way to deal with this, understand and resolve it and then get rid of it, once and for all.  Oh, maybe not completely, I know myself fairly well, but I would dearly love to leave most of that baggage behind me, along with the flab.

That would be so lovely.  Finding a way to care about myself enough to make choices that are truly in my own, best self interest.  I help my clients manifest that in their lives, perhaps I can do it for myself, too.  I had no intention to get all serious about this process. I wanted it to be easier than that, more like, well, just easier.  I am avoiding the scale, which has never been my friend.  I am not measuring and weighing portions, allowing my tummy to alert me when it is full, or at least satisfied.  I am still walking without my cane.  I lost count of how many days, but is is more than a week.  I did too much last Tuesday and took it in to work with me, concerned that a twelve-hour day at two locations might prove more than my knees and hip could handle on their own.  I will admit that I am taking more pain medication, but I think that cane made it possible for me to walk with less energy and certainly much less assurance.  By the end of the day my knees are not too bad, but my hips are, only sometimes, an agony.  This, too, will pass, yes?

All of this, the entire process, just seems right.  I am not stressed about it, well, except for my problems with the damn sweets.  I always believed that I was not a fan of sweet stuff.  Given a choice, I would always choose something salty, crunchy, and if you could put sour cream on it, that was even better.  I am simply going to trust that this works out the way it is supposed to and that this weakness for sweet stuff will pass.

I have three new GPs.  This is one of them.  It is named, Karma-O-Whirl:

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 9

Breakfast:  2 corn dogs, 2 mugs of instant cocoa/no sugar
Lunch: Nothing
Dinner:  2 cans of chicken soup, 2 slices of whole wheat toast, buttered, 2 mugs of decaf green tea, 3 RS sugar-free chocolates

It was a slow day, although it began at 2:00 a.m., when I woke gagging on mucus and then kept up by hunger.  I finally gave in and had the corn dogs and cocoa because they were the most quiet and least scent-creating things to make at that hour.

Went back to bed and slept until eight, back to rest, read and mostly doze at eleven.  Finally got up at 3:00 p.m.  Ate dinner at, around 7:00 and am ready for bed again.  I was not hungry, even after not eating, but made myself heat up the soup.  Then, heat up another one and have toast with it.  On a roll for twos, I guess.  The Russel Stover chocolates were for medicinal purposes only.  Honest.  The sugar alcohols are slightly, ummm, well, they help you, well, I just have to say it, poop, and with so little fiber in my body today, my colon will thank me tomorrow, fersure.

It was nice to sleep so much today.  You just cannot discount the benefits of naps.

I am taking all of my meds.  I have stopped with the antihistamines because I think they are blocking the fluids in my middle ears from draining.  Just popped a couple of generic decongestants, and hope that works.  I really am not fond of waking up with the whole mucus gagging thing.  Enough fun already.

Off to bed.

Oh, og, oog, I called yesterday's friend.  As assertive as I was with her at lunch about making a big freaking deal about who pays, she is just the same old person today again.  We have an agreement that we each pay our own whatever, lunch, snacks, beverages, stuff.  And still she creates a little scene each time, dragging in whatever poor, hapless clerk, waiter, salesperson is stuck taking care of us.

So, yesterday I took a stand, one that I have taken twice before, but she is such a backslider about this stuff.  The stand is that if she fusses about paying for my meal, that the meal (or snack or whatever) about which she is fussing and making a scene will be the last one that we have together.  Today I had to make the same standard for telephone conversations.  Lordy.  It is too much.  My guess is that, from her relating familial things, this is the way they all do business.  Everyone having a long, torturous scene over who pays for whatever.  Same thing for where to go or what to do together.

It is too much.  I cannot have this keep happening.  I just cannot.  And, it is not because I am feeling so crappy.  Hell, even when I am well, this just wears me down all the time, all the long days that she needs for all her stuff.  I am certain that this makes me a selfish, opinionated freaked-out brat.  So be it.  Fuck.

Today's GP (You know, I think that making one of these is the highpoint of each day.  How sad is that.):

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 8

Thud.

That was me falling off the health wagon.  I made a nice splat.

Interjecting here to say that I just read this and whilst it might not seem to be strictly about food and all that, it really is about the process of becoming not only healthier, but closer to the person that I want to be, which can only be a good thing.  If I do not change some of the other stuff in my life, then just eating well, exercising (yes, I intend to do more than think about that...eventually) is not going to mean anything.  Have to work on being healthier in body, heart, soul, spirit and in relationship all at the same time.

Breakfast:  Nothing
Lunch:  Salad, lemon wedges for dressing; scallops, broiled, 6; baked potato, butter & sour cream, ate half; fresh roll, ate half, with butter; grilled vegetables, ate all; 6 oz. glass of wine, yep, all of it, approx. 1 cup creamed rice and chicken soup, sigh, all of it, with lemon.
Dinner:  2 ears of corn, butter, salt

In my defense, if you spread out everything that I ate for lunch over the entire 24 hours of today, it does not seem so bad.

This friend is the one from yesterday.  Last evening's phone conversation went well and then today's conversations went all to hell.  It is like a toddler testing you.  She gets all agree-y and then goes back full force and then some.

So, anyway.  I pick her up and she immediately begins with the weird stories, which I love by the way.  She either has known everyone on the North American continent, or reads enough of the tabloids to know just enough about everyone famous or infamous to weave stories about them.  I quail to know what she would know if she had computer access.  Past chats have included surprisingly intimate details about the Macy dynasty (or any other large, industrial or business enterprise) and all of their paramours and extended families, the movers and shakers on the entire Eastern seaboard and most of the players  cooks  chefs  celebrities on the Food Network, including the one who lives just down the street from one of her sons in the Hamptons and who was rude and selfish as a pig about helping out a Make-A-Wish sick kid.  Hmmm, I always thought that pigs were extremely generous, especially when it comes to their bacon.  Yeah, but what do I know.

Oh, and there are those stories that she keeps telling me about some diet doctor who was killed by his mistress, who was sent to jail and my friend just happened to be her cell-mate.  All right, I am making up the part about the cell-mate, but the story is very long and detailed about all kinds of other stuff about those people, whoever the heck they are.

It just occurs to me that she does not seem to know anyone or about anyone west of the Mississippi.  Ooooh, that was fun to type!

Anyway.

Big Picture-wise, none of this matters.  Really.  Except that she keeps asking for my opinion about what one of these famous people did and when I eventually am forced to reply, she brings in some other information that nullifies my opinion, you know, like it really matters anyway, but it is tiring to constantly be told that I am wrong about everything.

So, I keep asking myself why I spend time with her and it is because I like her and most of the time her stories, true or not, are amusing, but only if I manage to avoid replying.  So, for the past month or so, whenever she mentions anyone or anything I just say that I know nothing about who or what that person or thing is.  She then throws up her hands, literally, and says something like, "Oh, why am I asking you, why would I think that you would know anything."  I just smile and offer her a french fry.  It is mostly working.

Except for today.  Today she would not be denied.  I kept smililng and she kept insisting and I had trouble not letting any giggles leak out.  But, by the time our waitress finally came over, I was worn down sufficiently so that I ordered a meal like the ones I used to order before I decided to get healthyier.  Alrighty, let me be honest and rephrase that...before I decided to get healthy.  Yes, it is true.  I have no backbone or will power.

This is a small family restaurant, where you can order just about anything, but they have these meal things that include appetizer (like salad or soup course), entree, sides, wonderful homemade breads, dessert and wine.  I ordered.  Whilst I always refuse the alcohol, I asked for a glass of red today.  My friend asked me if I would drink her wine, I said "no."  She asked if I would eat her soup, I said "no."  She asked if I would eat her dessert.  I said, "No."  So, she ordered soup, wine and dessert right away, and then told the waitress all of the other things that she did not want, finally ordering the lamb.

I ordered my favorite.  I got the most wonderful scallops, perfectly broiled, which she criticized because they were not brown enough on one side, her lamb because it was too salty, her soup because she forgot between the time she ordered and when it was brought to the table that it was a cream soup and it was too salty, and on and on.  I called the waitress over, asked her to bring a bowl of the other soup for my friend and to put it on my bill.  It is a tiny place, with excellent accoustics and she patted me on the shoulder before she dashed off to bring the other soup.

The entire meal was complaints and stories and more complaints.  I ate every morsel of my meal, which was very healthy, by the way, but should really be a meal and some taken home for a light dinner or breakfast.  I did not lick the plates, but I did think about it.  I drank my entire glass of wine.  I ate nearly an entire roll.  I ate the scorned cream soup, which was amazing, especially when drizzled with the fresh lemon our sweet waitress brough for me when she saw me eating it.  I ate nearly half of my baked potato.  It had butter and sour cream on it; not a lot, but it should have had none.  I ate my entire salad, very healthy, lemon instead of salad dressing.  I did leave something, though, a 75% tip.  Well, she earned it.

However, since I have been eating so reasonably this past week, it was way to much, which I would have realized had I been eating more slowly, you know, like a normal person.

I was exhausted.  Can you deplete your adrenals in an hour?  Even if you cannot, I think that I did.  At least I declined dessert, although I am kind of wanting it right now.  Alas.

I also had an upset stomach from eating all of that stuff and barely made it to the restroom, where I left most of it behind.  Literally and metaphorically.  Was not so funny then, but it makes me laugh now.  

My friend wanted to go to the mall.  I declined, but had earlier agreed to take her grocery shopping and we did that.  An hour and a half later, we loaded the car and started for home.  She wanted to go out for coffee, which she kept talking about all day, saying that she could not have any because her doctor put her on a special diet.  I declined, reminding her that we both had fresh meat that needed to be refrigerated soon enough.  The ride to her house was punctuated by her thoughts that it really was not that warm out and that raw meat could be left out for hours without danger.  I kept driving.

Today's lessons are many.

Do not think that you have learned or relearned something about how you want to be in relationship with someone, because you might be closer, but you are not fully there and the Universe will bring you back to that lesson as many times as is needed.

It is in your best interest to not use food to self-medicate unpleasant feelings or uncomfortable interpersonal issues away.  If you do, you have to buy a bottle of Imodium and take some right away so that you can finish shopping for groceries.

If you are already feeling like crap, allowing yourself to get all tense about anything is not going to help you feel better. Even when you try to make it appear that you are playing 'nice', if you really do not have your heart in it, the other person might never notice or know, but you will and you will feel guilty and ashamed for not being your best self.  Although, acting all nice and everything is certainly preferable to acting as bitchy as you feel.  Truth be told, acting like a nice person is never a wasted effort.



Sometimes you just have to accept someone for who they are and get over yourself.  And, that means accepting the other person.  You can accept yourself for who you are, but that sounds like a very bad habit in which to indulge; it is much better to try to be a better person.

I cannot tell if I feel better, infection-wise, or not.  I guess that is a good thing, though.

And, speaking of guilt, another pleasure for the day:

Wondering

I have been home a few hours now.  Tonight was the evening version of Saturday Morning Coffee with the Chickies.  My friends.  My pilgrimage buddies and then coffee friends and then hang-on-for-dear-life friends.   We do this each year near Christmas.  It is great and some of us give presents and some of do not and no one ever seems to notice who is giving or not, much less care about it.

It is a nearly perfect of manifestation of what true giving and gifts are about.  No expectations to be dashed, no weirdness about what is received or given or anything.  It is as pure and unselfish an experience as any of us have and one would hope that all such exchanges could be.  It is a pretty fucking amazing thing.  Just amazing.  One friend gave me three...count 'em...Anna Lee mice.  Two kind of Christmasy, and one Halloween little mouse witch with a sweet, tiny broom.  Another friend gave sweet little things and a gift card for a book store.  I gave my ornaments and chocolate gelt, which I adore, not only for the chocolate, but for the whole historical aspect and have been doing so for, gosh, this old babe has been giving gelt for nearly forty years and not a single one of them spent as anything other than the pagan girl that I am, and Christian that I was.  Maybe I was a Hasmonean-wanna-be in a former life.   

Last weekend, or the weekend before that, I simply cannot keep any of this straight anymore, just four of us got together for dinner at the apartment of one of the sisters.  I met both of them, the sisters, on a pilgrimage to Ireland.  One of them, the apartment one, had been warned about me by one of the other travelers, that I was a witch.  I may very well be a witch of the rude, nasty and despicable kind, but she did not understand that the other person was telling her about my spiritual path.  She, the apartment Chickie, much later, told me that it was near the half-way point in the trip that she realized what she had been told and found, much to her surprise, by the way, that she liked me as a person.  Cool.  Groovy.

Anyway, back here in the States, she was part of the original coffee women and over the years, other people have come; some stayed, others left, not finding us to their particular liking, which is fine, truly, because that is the process by which we find the people who are essential parts of our lives.

I have become particularly close the the apartment Chickie.  I like her sister a lot, too.  In fact, we were friends first.  Anyway, the apartment Chickie does not drive, never has, does not want to, and, frankly, she is unsuited to being behind the wheel of several tons of metal and other assorted parts and bits and pieces.  We often go on to do something else with the day after the coffee group breaks up and wanders off to do whatever it is that they do.

So, anyway, at the whenever-weekend dinner, it was, hell, I will just use their initials.  Sheesh.  There we are, at M's apartment, with her sister D and her husband and our other friend S and her husband.  S's husband is recovering from a stunningly serious heart problem, which nearly took his life a couple of months ago.  He is not recovering well, but that is for later.  D is our friend who is dying of ovarian cancer.  She had had a big transfusion on that weekend and was able to stay for a nice, long time and when she left, the rest of us left, too, because it was just so sad to know that that night was likely to be the last time that we would all be together.

D and her husband did not attend this evenings lovely thing with all of us friends because she is too ill to leave her house.  Her sister, M, does not talk about D very much.  She gives the occasional update, but her heart really is not in it, you know?  I worry about both of them, but M does not talk about any of this with anyone and whilst it is her journey and I would never interfere, beyond what I have done to make sure that she knows that I am available to her 'round the clock, it is her journey and she gets to travel it in exactly the way she prefers.  I truly do my best to not worry about this, but it just does not seem like a good plan on her part.  Truly.  Sometimes it is so difficult to keep my thoughts about this to myself.  Seriously.

Anyway, it is time to write how I feel and say my goodbyes, whilst I still can.  Even if I do not make this happen in time, D already knows how much I love her and that all of us will be here for her husband.  A kind of goofy, but altogether lovely man he is, who lost both of his closest relatives in the past year, his mother and his only auntie.  He is the kind of husband that all of us would love to have.  Interesting in a not too painful way, a person with wide and varied interests, and, most importantly, a man who pulled up his big boy panties and was there for his wife in every single way that truly matters.  

And, then we have S's husband (the one with the miserable heart issues), who is not behaving well.  He has always been a joking and intellectually lively person, but two weeks ago found him taking a serious fall in his driveway, from which he is still sporting a black eye.  Tonight it was the worse that I have seen.  He kept repeating himself, over and over and some of it was inappropriate for general conversation and we all tried to make light of it, but it was so disturbing.  S talked about it when he left the room, and one of us is a nurse, the big-hot-shot kind and the two of them discussed what S needs to discuss at this week's visit with her husband's neurologist and cardiologist.

Things here, at the old homestead, are going from bad to more bad and I simply cannot muster any energy to deal with any of it because, in the scheme of things, like in life in general and the issues with which the people around me are struggling, my crap barely registers on any level of importance that anyone could devise.  My stuff is lacking in significance in the face of everything else and I am not able to cope with any of it.

There is great suffering in my town, many people who do not have the means to take care of the basics, much less anything extra.  I see them in my work and whilst I am working my ass off to help where I can and to find additional resources and connect people with them, it is just endless and I wonder how much good I am doing or if it is possible to do good at all.

I still cannot be holiday anything, and this evening's thing is the exception (the one and only, single thing I have done for months), because to not go and do and eat and share would have brought too much attention to myself, the feeling and being apart from everything that everyone else holds dear right now.  Pretending that I am cheerful and happy to be around people is so exhausting.  I am doing lots of volunteering, zoning in on something besides myself and it does fill the time.  I guess that it does do some good in town and I am, gosh, just so grateful that I have the resources to help, but I need this fallow time, some time to try to heal and maybe come back to who I was or who I want to be, yeah, who I want to be.  I am not empty, in any sense, but I am weary and exhausted to the bones, the ones that bedevil me and for which there is not adequate pain relief.

I cannot be the only person who feels adrift in all of this holiday stuff.  It is difficult to hold my tongue when I hear or read about how someone is stressed about not giving the exactly perfect gift or receiving some longed-for ideal present.  Or is distressed because other people do not have the same beliefs about how they feel holidays should be celebrated.  I weary of listening to the sadness someone feels because not everyone else, Christians or not, prefer to wish one another a happy holiday instead of merry Christmas.  I mean, seriously, Christmas is ruined because everyone else is not Christian or refuses to lock-step with their personal beliefs?  And, I just keep struggling with my own judgments about how others judge all those other people.  It is a vicious and pointless exercise and I just feel nauseated about it.  I do not want to be perfect or any such damn thing, but I would so love to not give a crap about how miserably some people are treated or judged.  Just pointless.

Frankly, if I hear or read about one more person bemoaning the commercialization or the Americanization or the Disney-izaion of the holiday I am going to scream or hurt myself.  I swear.  I really do.  If you are doing exactly what you want to do in your life, whether or not is it a holiday, then why do you give a rat's ass about what someone, anyone, else is doing?  If you have that much time in your life, to waste it worrying and fretting and judging other people, there is a possibility that you are not actively doing enough for other people or your neighborhood or your community or working to make your little part of the world a better place for everyone, every group, every creature, every issue.

I think that I must no longer be fit for being around other people.  If I start talking about any of this with other people, it might not even be a personal choice, as those other people might be very happy to kick my sorry ass right out of polite society, which, in itself, is kind of an oxymoron these days.  Crap, there I go judging again.  I am hopeless and best find a cave in which to live.  Posthaste. I am not fit company.

O.K., I thought that I was finished, but I am not.  One thoughtful, tender and well-intentioned thought stream.

Do your own thing.  I will do my own thing.  Leave my thing alone and I will offer and extend the same courtesy to you.  If you do not like my thing, please keep your opinions (to which you are entirely entitled to hold) to yourself.  Please, I am begging you, do not concern yourself or fuss about how I shop, what is in my grocery basket or shopping cart, how, or if, I cook, how many convenience products I use, what cleaning products I use, how I do the laundry, what I drive or do not drive, how I dress, whether or not I make all my own personal crap, how I garden or do not garden, how I educate my children, where I work or how I spend my money.  Please do not worry your pretty, little head about what I read, where I go, how I vacation, how organic my food supply or lifestyle is,  where I live or how many utilities and services I use, what my belief system or spiritual path might be, or how I manifest, or do not, what those beliefs may be.  If I have forgotten anything, please add it to the list of things about me which should not have to bother you.

I will do exactly those things, and more, for you. 

Oh, one more thing.  I have, for as long as I can remember, said Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas.  I did this even when I was a serious and dedicated and faithful Christian, because I always recognized that my religion, spiritual practice and faith community was not the only one in the world, and because I did not want to marginalize anyone with whom I came into contact should they have beliefs different from my own.   It always seemed like, plain, simple and ordinary courtesy.  Just saying. 

Besides, the winter holiday season is chock-full of some of the most interesting practices, both spiritual and secular.  Many of them are fun, but all of them are informative to anyone who desires to be a well-rounded, educated and interesting person.  Open your heart and be a part of some of them. 

The more you learn about other people, how they live, what they practice, the less fearful you will be about those who seem to be different than you.  Educate yourself, inform yourself, move beyond only what you have been taught or experienced.  Yeah, just open your heart...if you are brave enough.  Courage, baby.