xmas

Here’s to hoping you spend Christmas doing exactly what you want all day and night long! I plan to!

 

Happy Holidays!

Same Girl’s Paradise

 

Written to a friend the other day about relationship conflicts and struggles:

 

I’ve thought we were getting divorced a couple times or at least separated… I love him so much but he drives me nuts sometimes with his behavior and serious depression/rage issues and I am just a bloody mess… a disorganized former pack rat who has 1,000 projects unfinished and broken, lost by the way side, cluttering his life with forgotten to be paid bills, missed appointments, etc… basically I’m little girl lost and he’s the big man/little boy lost so we argue a lot. We lived in the chaos of our schizophrenic parents’ lives so we create a new chaos here in our home even though there’s a big part of us who likes calmness, quiet and peace. 

There’s also a huge wonderful feeling of love and friendship there between us. But we’re both fucked up passionate people who are depressive and also, like you, addicts who, unlike you, have been in our cups off and on in the last 10 years. We were really ‘strong in our recovery’ 12ish years ago when we got together (I know, doesn’t that phrase make you want to be sick?) and have been slipping down since. Up and down up and down. He has never ever drank again but he has had issues because of sleeping pills and heart meds and he went from fit to overweight so he has the food thing like me. Really we are damaged al anon kids “grown up” with baggage but wanting to just live as hedonists and travel the world and spend beyond our means and escape, escape, escape at all costs … and it certainly has cost us. 

You know my old spiel… gained an inconceivable amount of weight to wipe away my sexuality and my prettiness, to become invisible, to punish myself or whatever it is that makes that self destructive empty space within us addicts tick. So I have been afraid to talk to my mother since 2001, to confront her, to forgive her, to hate her, to forget her, to move on… whatever. So I’ve been afraid to get my shit together, to be more. So our relationship has suffered even with love. Our self awareness doesn’t mean squat though. We just continue the vicious cycle. Our own vicious cycles. But it’s simplifying things to state well if I just do A, B, C and he does 1, 2, 3 we’ll perfect ourselves and then we’ll be able to communicate and perfect our relationship and then I’ll be great, he’ll be great and everything will be wonderful. Like two addicts, like two adult children of alcoholics, like two survivors of schizophrenic parents will ever be “fixed”. 

Some times I think we remain fucked up so we don’t destroy our own secret illusions of grandeur of ourselves. We don’t “realize our potentials”, we don’t live up to our physical attractiveness, our prowess, our careers, our personal relationships, whatever because we’d rather remain “untapped geniuses” and “decadent bohemian talents” who couldn’t be bothered to try than two individuals who tried like any body else and wound up just being mediocre at something, God forbid. Also we thrive on being half awake, me vague on wine, on fantasy, on other people’s lives, on other people’s art, on my eating disorder, on eating till I’m sick, on forgetting to pay bills, forgetting everything, him on the sleeping pills he needs to sleep, lately my muscle relaxants, on comfort foods, on travel, on travel plans, on rants on a myriad of topics, on regrets of the past, etc, ad infinitum. 

Writing this helps clarify things, it brings me a little closer to the truth and now I’m going to clean my house. It’s been a month since my accident and it’s time to do a little work. Only a few hours left but I’ve only realized now this is what my recovery looks like. 

It helped writing that letter to see in black and white the truth about my reality as it is now. I need constant reminders because I am an escapist. Who likes reminders of one’s character flaws, of one’s weaknesses? But how else are we expected to armed with the strength to face our weaknesses on a daily basis and no longer succumb to them each time? I want to fight again. I don’t want to just survive any more, I want to live. 

I seem to get rear ended every four years in the autumn. What is up with that?

October in Massachusetts, living by the seashore in a year old house after a lifetime of apartments. The smell of chimney smoke and salt in the crisp air. The lonely sound of wind against my windows makes me feel warm and protected in all this wood and brick. This afternoon the ocean was gray and stormy with large white crests rolling over old rocks dotted with colonials and onto sandy shores only to roll back into the waves again.  Cold, dark, dusk-kissed autumn days are the perfect excuse for me to curl up by the fireplace with an heirloom apple, a hot drink and a book and forget about everything else for a few hours. 

I was in a car accident on Thursday… 

I have been taking the odd muscl​e relax​ant,​ after decid​ing again​st the paink​illers​ for my neck pain and tightness.

​I was stopp​ed at a light​,​ the girl behin​d was too. Some girl slamm​ed into her car which​ then slamm​ed into mine.​

ER for four hours after a long work week​.​ I was pretty much on bed rest until today when I went for a drive with my husband to see his mother and we went to the movies.

blah blah blah, I’m fine.

A few stolen moments in Italy…

In Rome… there are statues of angels, saints and devils peeking out of crevices, peering out of corners in churches and museums, leaning over flying buttresses, their eyes following me all over the city. Even a garden refuge on the ancient Aventine hill is filled with angels and symbols of the beloved dead. 

The shadows hold secrets in the ancient stone walls down every Roman alleyway. I could walk all night through it’s streets. Come to think of it, I have.

I am a voyeur, a street photographer, a purveyor of candids. 

Here lies one whose name was writ in water… dear Keats. I meditated over his grave and Shelley’s with some verse and later enjoyed tea at the same tea house they took tea and visited his house and deathbed. I followed the footsteps Oscar Wilde, the Decadents, the Romantics, the Beats and countless others.

I’ve been working and commuting a lot this summer. I am usually too tired or too uninspired to write. I finally had these film negatives transferred to CDs. I’m feeling creative again. I wanted to vent about work and my body frustrations but once again the hour grows late and I have another 120 mile round trip commute tomorrow and I have been having trouble sleeping on work nights. I *have* been working out at the gym A LOT but the food has been weak in spots.

 

Damn I need claritin for my autumn allergies! My eyes are on fire!!

When stranger meets strange

Just how does one start anew in the middle of some middling crisis years in the making?

I’m half convinced I am the perfect candidate for split brain consciousness. I am fascinated by Colin Wilson’s myriad takes on the bicameral mind:

A Criminal History of Mankind, page 148

It is important to grasp that boredom is one of the most common – and undesirable – consequences of ‘unicameralism’. Boredom is a feeling of being ‘dead inside’; that is to say, loss of contact with our instincts and feelings. Experiments with EEG machines have shown that when we become bored the right cerebral hemisphere begins to display alpha rhythms – the rhythms that appear when the brain is ‘idling’. Robert Ornstein, one of the pioneers of split-brain research, discovered that this happens when someone is doing mental arithmetic. It happens, in fact, during any activity in which we are not really interested. But if the right brain ‘idles’ too much, it goes to sleep. The psychologist Abraham Maslow described a case of a girl who suffered from depression and a sense of meaninglessness; she had even ceased to menstruate. He discovered that she wanted to study sociology and was being forced – by financial necessity – to do a boring, repetitive job. When Maslow suggested that she should go to night school and continue her studies of sociology, her problems promptly vanished. The boredom had caused her right brain to spend most of its time ‘idling’; as soon as she began to think in terms of purpose and motivation, she also began to feel great again. 

 

I awake the same way each day on the same side of the bed. I follow the same morning rituals of stumbling into the bathroom, deciding on just how awake I need to be for the day. How much reality will I let in like the light hitting me in the face just a little bit more cruelly than the day before? And just how far down am I willing to sink today? Will I be the failure, will I be the selfish child or will I pretend to be a winner? Just to see what that would be like for a lark?

Remember, I’m the next big thing in loserville, I thrive on making the possible … impossible. Each and every day.

I’m the pretty girl turning on herself, not realizing until it’s too late, I’m doing everything I can to become ugly. Match the inside out, turn everything upside down and make all those chances and wishes hard and shriveled regrets.

When was the exact moment I began to hate myself in that secret, sad, quiet way of mine? Was it when I first blurted it out loud to the neighborhood kids when I was ten years old and mother was on her way to the hospital, not for the first time?  

I hate myself. I hate myself.

No, you don’t.

Yes, I do. I hate myself. I have always hated myself.

Ah, so perhaps I always felt that way? I can’t pinpoint a precise moment of this feeling, this crawling feeling of dread and self doubt and black moods that’s been peering out from within.

I thought for years I’ve lived the life of an individual. I am free. I do what I want, when I want. I have little ambition. I cultivate small pleasures and life experiences. I am such a dangerous thinker. An outsider. I’m not afraid of the dark. I feel electrified in the heights. I will not be held back by the conventions of the all American suburbanites.  I refuse to worship another human being posed as the latest guru or any God for that matter. 

But to be perfectly frank I am my own worst enemy’s bitch. Because I lay at the feet of my own bad instincts. I scrape and bow before the bad thoughts, the crappy self image I pretend I don’t have except in moments when I lose my cool and can no longer hide behind the stoic face I’ve carefully built. As a child I learned how to figure out if the day was going to be good or bad by the mood fluctuations of my mother. Later I brought my human calculator into my difficult friendships and tumultuous romances. They were all difficult, they were all tumultuous. I was forever gauging my whole life’s meaning into the next five minutes with whomever I chose to love madly, deeply, terribly, at any cost.

I didn’t necessarily go for bastards or abusers, but I honed in on any sharply intelligent charmer with cold fish tendencies who saw me, who wanted me. The men weren’t so bad when I look at them collectively, but the (platonic) girl friends I’ve had were the viperous, controlling women I never could be, I didn’t want to be, but I never failed to befriend the biggest bitch in the room. The mass seducers, the women who fucked like men, the superficial, confident liars, the glittering girls who drank too much, who tried drugs, who annoyed me, who tired me, who taunted me. Oh, I got rid of them all eventually, but the damage was done. They added to my self doubt. They were the anti-me and yet they appeared to be far more successful in this mundane life stuff than me. I was ultimately the loser in the fight. And yes, it was always a fight. Every friendship, every boyfriend was a war to win or lose. And I always lost. That was the one constant in my life. A girl will grab onto whatever safety net she can get her hands on. And trust me, I needed all the safety nets I could hold. 

What is my biggest safety net now? Is it other people? Or is it a far scarier proposition? Is it chaos? I have somehow managed to build a large chunk of my life with a new family; my husband, his family, some of my extended family, a smattering of friends (not enough) but better than nothing, I have a university degree, I have travelled, I have a few middling talents, I finally found a talent I could possibly make money off of if I could ever get my confidence and focus to work together, I have a beautiful house, a job I like and financial security… I have love! But look at me, I compartmentalize my life. A “large chunk of my life” is filled with love and support?! What, not all of it? I must always separate myself somehow. Separate myself from the good and from the bad. Viewing life, viewing myself as beyond good and evil is the only great equalizer I have for perspective. Because I can’t seem to connect the dots to all the elements in my life. I mean I’m hardly living the life of Jean Rhys, more like the life of Riley… but in trying to lead an uncomplicated, surface existence I am in fact layering complexities in the form of neuroses. Everything is built up just when I want it smoothed out. I have no tools to deal with all this emotion. For feeling so out of control, so angry, so sad, so disconnected. The pain comes quickly now and it no longer digs at me, it tears. It rips. It leaves marks. I can’t erase the past as much I want to escape it, to forget it, to not be of it, from it, because of it. So I am writing about it in splintered posts, mixing memories with the impressions of now. Because trying to forget is second nature to me. And it’s what’s doing my head in. It’s the sabotage of the perfect victim.

I should have known by now I can’t hide from myself. My greatest frenemy. The biggest bitch of them all.

“You look at me, and you don’t like what you see. But this is the price, Mother – the price of belonging to you.”

I’ve had a few slips but no binges which is huge for me. There are no valid excuses for slips of course but I am moving forward, I am not going to beat myself up over this or it will be another 7-8 years of obesity for me! I started gaining weight around 2000, 2001 and this is an uphill battle for me. I was religiously following “cambridge greysheet” for years as a teen and in my early twenties and maintained a somewhat emaciated 105 pound weight for several years. I was successful in CGS however it made me anemic, made me lose my period, my hair fell out and I couldn’t climb stairs without being faint.

Due to a series of tragedies; dealing, or rather not dealing, with my mother’s mental deterioration from schizophrenia, a death in the family, relationship ups and downs, post graduate ennui, and a propensity for bouts of depression and vacillating between guilt and relief at an estrangement with my mother since 2001 – all of these have been contributing factors to my weight gain. 

Food addiction is real, compulsive overeating is real but i think they developed because of said factors above. Alcoholism and drug addiction, depression and mental illness run in my family on both sides, so there are genetic factors to my possession of the mind of an addict.

I was also brought up first in a drug and drink fueled, rough and tumble, South Boston home. Later came Alcoholics Anonymous for my mother, when I was 6, which streamed in hope and a thousand overheard drunkalogues whilst I played with my Barbie’s in countless church basements. Then the mental institutions for her and the foster homes for me. I clutched my (then boyfriend) husband’s hands the whole time we watched “White Oleander” in 2002 because of the similarities between myself and Astrid, Ingrid and my mother, excepting some sensational specifics.   

 

“My mother was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was also the most dangerous.”

 

There comes a time in a woman’s life when she has to stop hiding from her problems and her past so she can lead a fuller, less hidden life in the present. I’ve talked a lot of ‘gonna be, going to do, will change’ for the last 7 or 8 years without lifting a finger in my own recovery, weight loss, or future. I can pay lip service to my aspirations all I want – it means nothing without action. My action. Now.

 

My mother’s sad story is for another time. I think I may have to courage to tell it finally. I think I have to, in order to continue mine.

The last 24 hours with a family crisis… however i didn’t binge.

At the hospital till all hours… a family crisis, a perfect excuse for emotional eating. How do I remain strong for those who need me to take care of myself enough to be fully present and supportive? I don’t binge for today, to use program speak… perish the thought. Workout this morning, a swim which was tougher than I had anticipated. I am seriously in trouble with my body. Young, but not as young as I once was so to speak. Over, over, over weight for far too long. To write I have taxed my body is to understate the gravity of my dilemma. The more I work out the more I see how weak I’ve allowed myself to become. I also see I have unlimited waves of strength I never knew I possessed. There are no more excuses. There were never any good ones.

 

We ate Indian, spinach, onions, shrimp, rice, dal, cauliflower, potatoes, no cream in the sauce, lychee juice (no sugar) and tealuxe pots of teas (copley vanilla black tea with a spot of milk – absolutely delicious). I had some cheese and a few non regulation crackers, will have to give away the rest and stay away from the flour. I hope my relation pulls through and does not suffer anymore. All I can do is show up healthy and awake and offer love. That’s enough. I’m enough.

Protected: weighed myself today, better than I thought, though still perfectly awful.

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Implementing the program and meal plan

FOR INFO ON ALL THE DIETS AND RECOVERY INFO GO TO MY “DIET & RECOVERY INFO” PAGE.

Suggestions for Implementing H.O.W.

 

See your doctor. Have him completely review this program of eating. Follow all of his suggestions concerning this plan. Take a multivitamin every day. All food must be weighed and measured. Use a postal or kitchen scale, a measuring cup and measuring spoons. Fish may be baked, boiled, roasted, pan-broiled, grilled or oven-broiled. Salad dressing is only alloted in the evening and must have sugar listed 5th or less on the label. Food should be written down on a daily basis for at least 90 days. Successful members continue to write their food down even after the weight loss. Do not skip meals, and do not combine two meals for example breakfast and lunch (brunch). Do not weigh yourself (except once a month). If something listed in this food plan becomes a problem, avoid it. Avoid all individual binge foods. Sit down for meals. Eat slowly. Never have a second helping.

Food we absolutely avoid are: alcohol, sweets of any kind, nuts, fried foods, sugared soft drinks, cream cheeses, specialty cheeses, honey, anything containing sugar or white flour. I will probably drink wine and champagne after I reach my goal weight but I know the white sugar/flour thing is a no-no for me for life.

 

When in doubt, leave it out.

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Guidelines for H.O.W. abstainers: Proteins may be mixed. For example: 8 oz. milk + 1 oz. cheese

In the first 30 days, wheat germ may be used at lunch or dinner, but not a breakfast.

Sugar must be listed 5th or lower on salad dressings and should not be in seasonings or soft drinks. Dextrose, fructose, lactose and sucrose are, in fact, sugar. Soy flour or sugar should be listed fifth or lower in soy products. If fresh fruit is not available, used canned or frozen fruit that is packed in water or its own juice. When mixing fruits, be mindful that if the mixture contains a 1/2 cup fruit, then the total mixture must equal 1/2 cup. Diet, sugar-free catsup and regular mustard are acceptable; use tomato sauce for cooking or up to 3 tsp. of lemon juice for food preparation. Some artificial sweeteners contain large amounts of sugar…beware. If you want milk in your coffee, subtract 1/2 protein from your morning meal. This will give you 1 cup of milk all day for coffee. Onion soup mix may be used as a seasoning but not as a soup. When a 1/2 cup vegetable selection is mixed with a 1 cup vegetable selection, it can be counted as a 1 cup vegetable. Salad should be measured at all times. A salad can be a combination of any listed vegetables. No deep fried or breaded foods. Up to 3 Tbsp. of bran per day may be used if needed. No alcoholic beverages (until GOAL WEIGHT). 8 glasses of water are suggested daily.To create a complete protein when using legumes, combine with grain or animal protein. (example–1/2 cup beans with 1 oz. cheese.)

Abstinence is a commitment to recovery: Of course, to the new person this appears as another diet. But we who have walked this path before you know that this program of eating is unique.

First, you may not modify to suit yourself. Any additions or subractions you make must be with a physicains’ advice. Commit yourself to a black and white abstinence so you may deal with the grey areas of living.
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The food plan

For all the in depth recovery information and food plans visit the recovery links & food plans!

Honesty Openness Willingness – H.O.W. Food Plan 

                                             Menu outline used for the first 90 days.

BREAKFAST

1 protein
1 fruit
1 tsp. butter, margarine or oil

 

LUNCH

1 protein
1 vegetable
3 pieces of raw vegetables or 1 cup of salad/vegetablegoo
1 tsp. butter, margarine or oil

 

DINNER

1 protein
1 vegetable
2 cups salad
2 Tablespoons of salad dressing
1 tsp. butter, margarine or oil

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                                              Menu outline for continued weight loss after first 90 days.

BREAKFAST

1 protein
1 grain (optional)
1 fruit
1 tsp. butter, margarine or oil

 

LUNCH

1 protein
1 vegetable
1 cup of salad/vegetable
1 grain (only if not eaten at breakfast)
1 tsp. butter, margarine or oil

 

DINNER

1 protein
2 cups salad or 1 cup salad and
1 cup cooked vegetable
2 Tablespoons of salad dressing
1 grain
1 tsp. butter, margarine or oil

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H.O.W. FOOD LIST

Protein 4 oz. tempeh, fish, ricotta cheese,16 oz. skim milk, 16 oz. buttermilk, 8 oz. yogurt, 8 oz. tofu,
2 oz. cheese, 4 oz. cottage cheese, 1 c. legumes

 

Fats 1 tsp. butter, 1 T. cream, 1 T. sour cream, 1 T. oil, 2 T. salad dressing

 

1 Cup Veggies alfalfa sprouts, artichokes, asparagus, bean sprouts, bok choy, broccoli, bamboo shoots,
brussel sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower, celery, chard, cucumbers, eggplant, greens,
dill pickle, lettuce, kohlrabi, mushrooms, okra, pea pods, parsley, peppers, radishes,
red or green chilies, sauerkraut, spinach, string beans, summer, crook neck or spaghetti
squash, tomatoes, turnips, zucchini

 

1/2 Cup Veggies beets, carrots, onions, pumpkin, rutabaga, Jerusalem artichoke, water chestnuts,
winter squash, jicama, leeks, parsnips

 

Fruit 1 apple, 3 apricots, 1/2 c. black & blueberries, 1 c. boysenberries, 1/2 cantaloupe,
1 c. casaba, cranshaw or honeydew melons, 2 figs, 3/4 c. cherries, 1 c. gooseberries,
1/2 grapefruit, 1 guava, 2 kiwi, 2 lemons or limes, 1/2 mango, 1 nectarine, 1 orange,
1 c. papaya, 1 peach, 1 pear, 1/2 c. canned or 1/8 whole pineapple, 2 plums,
1/2 c. raspberries, 1 c. rhubarb, 1 c. strawberries, 2 tangerines, 1/2 c. unsweetened juice,
1 c. watermelon

 

Whole Grains 1 oz. (EZEKIAL) bread, 1 oz. dry cereal, 2 rye crackers ( 3 1/2 x 2), 1/2 c. cooked cereal, cooked (EZEKIAL) pasta, brown rice, kasha, millet, barley, bulgar

Condiments all spices, onion soup mix, 1/2 c. tomato sauce,  soy & worcestershire sauce, salsa. 

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NOTE: I am trying to follow this plan, throwing in a bit of Grey Sheet for the weight loss period and the FAA for the maintenance part of the plan. I did Grey Sheet for years but found it to not be healthy for me past the initial weight loss. H.O.W. is something I can see as more sustainable in a maintenance plan with the introduction of healthy whole grains and more fruit, protein and vegetable choices.