My Struggle With Intuitive Eating & Emotional Overeating

Toward the end of 2018, I decided to make some pledges (not resolutions) to myself and my own well-being. They are:

  1. My Health & Fitness – Conquering my overeating & shed the extra “person” I carry from the result of not dealing with my emotions, boredom, etc.
  2. My Peace – I can’t control other people/situations but I can control how I react.
  3. My Self-Care – Putting this first, I deserve it at all times.
  4. My Joys – Once my responsibilities are taken care of, I deserve to spend my time in ways that make me happy and joyous.

So No. 1 is what I’m going to focus on though they all sort of tie in together. First off, #1 is not a diet. I’m not counting calories or forcing myself to work out to burn calories. Sometimes I log my food to pick up on trouble spots, make myself more mindful when I’m eating at points that I’m not hungry and maybe need to address some underlying emotions or issues. When I started Intuitive Eating, I didn’t address the core reason I struggle with overeating to start with. Growing up in a dysfunctional alcoholic household, food became my drug of choice since when you’re 9-10 years old you usually don’t have access to drugs and alcohol. Though watching my father, I knew I didn’t want to abuse alcohol. Food was my friend, my comfort and still is today except now I want to go a step further and shed my frequent need for comforting with food. This feels like one of the final steps I need to take in my journey to overcoming my past abuses and traumas. Frankly, I don’t want what happened to me in the past to win.

Long story short, I didn’t truly follow Intuitive Eating (IE) as it is intended. I used it as an excuse to eat whatever I wanted when I wanted, but I wasn’t eating to true hunger, I was shoveling junk into my big mouth to buffer the pain and anxiety from my past. Then I blamed IE for failing me. Nope, I failed me. I was eating when I wasn’t truly hungry. I wasn’t listening to my body but to my emotions, my fears, my anxiety, my stress, my boredom, etc. IE didn’t fail me, I failed IE. I failed myself but it’s okay. It’s all in a learning and recovery process.

People who have suffered abuse, sexual trauma/rape etc. especially women, tend to be overweight as a coping mechanism.  Wearing a “fat suit” makes you feel safer from unwanted attention. Start to lose weight, get smaller and the moment you start garnering more uncomfortable attention, you’ll unconsciously start overeating to pad up your protective fat suit.  In a way, it feels like your superpower to be invisible to other people.  You can fade into the background considering you’re not being targeted for fat-shaming. 

In my life, I have experienced verbal, emotional, physical and sexual abuse so I struggle in many different ways but I’m determined to overcome these coping mechanisms. It’s time I break free of my past and live a freer life. I know I will always be haunted by my past but I don’t want it to win. I will falter but I will pick myself up, brush off and keep going. Eventually, the falls will become infrequent and I will also learn to catch myself before hitting the ground sometimes. But I have to be patient and kind with my trips. I just want to overcome and drop this baggage. I want to stop suffering, stop overeating and take care of my body. It feels like this extra “person” of fat/weight that I carry around weighs me down and serves as a constant reminder that I’m still letting my past win.

The principles of IE are simple:  Eat when hungry – eat what you want until just satisfied.  Incorporate gentle nutrition and joyful movement.  Well this is my take on it, the book is more involved but this is the overall view.  When you are struggling with emotional/stress overeating, it throws in an additional challenge.  I’m not going to diet any more.  I’m not going to weigh or measure myself.  It has never once helped in the long run.  I’m not going to berate myself for what I eat but I’m also going to stop ignoring my emotional overeating and fool myself to believe oh, it’s just intuitive eating.  Um, yeah, Laura, nope, nice try.  Stop excusing your overeating as IE.  Just stop it already.

The other night, hubby and I went to Walmart to get some groceries but it had started pouring down rain while we were inside.  Our car was halfway up the parking lot so I grabbed ahold of the cart, bracing some of my weight on the handle and started running toward it.  Because some of my weight was being carried by the cart, I felt this incredible lightness.  I couldn’t tell you how many pounds the cart way holding but it doesn’t really matter.  The experience made me think of how much better I would feel if I was not carrying an extra ‘person’ of weight.  How much lighter and stronger I would feel.  How much more I could do.  Of course this triggered the whole dieting thing in my head, but I pushed it out of my mind.  I can’t live my life dieting.  But I can live my life honoring what my body wants and needs.  I can honor my life by dealing with the hard emotions, loneliness, sadness, grief, anger, frustration, etc. by facing those uncomfortable feelings.  My body is padded with all my overeating.  

Another recent experience is I deleted all my fitness tracking apps off of my phone.  Since my late teens, movement has been mandated exercise to lose weight.  I must walk, ride, run, hike – X amount of time at Y intensity to burn Z calories.  It was never about joy or enjoyment.  Diet mentality sucks.  One day I walked four miles with my daughter on the bike path.  Several times I caught myself thinking – ‘you better walk faster you’re not burning enough calories’, ‘quit stopping, your heart rate will drop’ and ‘push, push, push’.  Each time, I would push those thoughts out of my mind and go back to enjoying what I was doing.  If I wanted to stop and poke under the leaf litter hoping to find an early wildflower, then so be it.  If I wanted to stop and take a few photos of an area, no problem.  If I just wanted to stop, close my eyes and breathe in the fresh air, go for it.  Somewhere along the way, I had completely given up my enjoyment of being outside moving.   Without realizing it, we had walked four miles (my phone auto tracks steps and I checked out of habit).  

The next day, it was warmer and the sun was in and out.  Being in west-central Ohio, the winters can be brutal and I wanted to get back outside.  This time I drove to a park fairly close to my house that has a lot of off pavement trails as walking on pavement makes my knees and hips hurt if I do it too much.  Even though it was muddy, I brought an extra pair of hiking shoes and set off.  This time the exercise Nazi in my head was quieter.  A few times, she popped up but I ignored her commands.  I wasn’t on a set schedule and had several hours to myself.  Before, I would have my exercise tracking app on and be compulsively checking it for my average walking speed, calories burned and time elapsed.  I’d be hiking briskly, not stopping to admire much of anything.  

Three different times, I had scared up a giant blue heron who was fishing in the creek and nearby small lake in the park.  The last time I saw him, he was standing on a slowly shrinking ice patch at one end of the lake.  He cocked his head to one side so he could see me better as I slowly approached.  I pulled out my phone and started taking pictures with my camera.  I crept along the trail excited that he hadn’t flown away this time.  He watched me cautiously and I watched him.  As I gently took soft steps, I was able to get closer photos until I had walked right by him (or her – I have no idea how to tell them apart).  I stood there staring back at him, taking in the quiet of the day, the sun coming in and out from behind the traveling clouds.  Maybe, I thought, if I were to have a spirit animal, maybe it’s a blue heron.  

Eventually, I moved on and he stayed on his ice perch to fish.  As I finished my hike, I reflected on my heron encounter.  A month ago, I would have been so focused on burning calories that I would have barreled down the trail scaring the heron a fourth time.  I wouldn’t have given myself permission to just go gently, slowly and enjoy the encounter with reverence and awe of such a beautiful bird.  My mom used to say ‘like a bull in a china shop’.  Well that’s been me going through my life breaking things and missing the delicate cues of the world around me.  Missing the beauty of the ‘china’.  I don’t want to be the bull anymore.  I don’t want to charge through my life.  

When I got back to my car, I was surprised to find I had walked five miles based on my phone’s step counter.  This time I checked out of sheer curiosity and not a goal.  If I had set my goal to hike five miles, I would have charged through just wanting to get it over with and on to the next thing.  I wouldn’t have enjoyed the hike like I did that day.  I’d been impatient and making up reasons in my head why I couldn’t possibly hike five miles.  But this time, I took my time, I took many photos with my phone (prompting me to order a recharageable portable power source since I almost ran the phone battery down).  I spent time just being present, being mindful.  I didn’t even notice I had hiked so far because distance wasn’t my goal.  Left to my own devices and enjoyment, I obviously will hike further than I would expect.  

Between the grocery cart experience and that day’s joyful hike, I realized I am on the right track.  I want to be lighter, more joyful, less encumbered and simply mindful.  When I ordered the power source, I also ordered a small sling day pack to carry a water bottle, maybe a sketch book, some charcoals and possibly my Nikon camera.  I also ordered a bracelet with a butterfly charm as a reminder to focus on the beautiful, to fly above the world’s expectations and BS, as a promise to myself to enjoy life, to honor what my body needs, to conquer the emotional/stress eating, to live the very best way I can.  I also ordered a pack of my fave Pilot V5 roller ball pens in a bunch of colors just because I wanted them and the bright chartreuse green is my fave.  

I don’t know if I will get smaller or lose weight.  The only way I will know is by how my clothes fit because I just can’t weigh or measure my self any more.   I don’t have an ideal size in mind, I figure this is up to my body to let me know what my size should be.  I believe that if I can for the most part eliminate emotional/stress overeating and that I listen to my body giving it gentle nutrition, that I may end up smaller/lighter.  Or not.  Either way it doesn’t matter.   The goal is to overcome old, poor habits and trust myself and my body.  That’s it.  To learn how to deal with my stress and emotions.  Instead of grabbing something sweet that I am not truly hungry for, I sit down and journal my feelings or go for a long walk to ease anxiety.  It’s all about self-care which I have ignored for years.  

It’s time to be brutally honest with myself each moment of every day and ask myself ‘what do you need right now?’.  There is truly no better time than right now to be my own best friend.  

 

 

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Empty Nester – The Roller Coaster from Hell

Being the parent of adult “children” is equivocal to being locked into a roller coaster from hell.  While that may sound dramatic, there is a lot they don’t tell you about being the parent of adult kids.  Probably if they did tell us, no one would want to have kids.  But let me explain what I mean by roller coaster from hell:

  1. You’re stuck like Chuck on this thing.  Locked down tight, no escape on this journey of wonderful highs and screaming, scary ass fast traverses down that big hill.  In other words, you’re job as parent is over in the hands on sense.  You can offer suggestions, give advice, help out if asked but mainly you’re a helpless slob tied to a roller coaster you can’t control or stop.  Unless you disown your children or have some magical way to disconnect from worrying about them, it’s a powerless, scary and exciting ride.  Not all of it is negative of course.  Actually the positives usually outweigh the bad shit but it’s impossible for me to not worry especially if the weather is bad or your oldest is taking off for France for a month with her girlfriend who is working on a contract job.
  2. It’s a delicate balancing act, you’re always teetering on the edge of what to do and what not to do.  Or say.  You’re speeding toward a hair pin turn and you have to stay on track and not go off the fine line or you’re going to crash and break into a million pieces.  It’s hard to let go of wanting to guide them, protect them and keep them safe.  They have to live their lives and make their own mistakes, have their own adventures.  We get to be the bystander with no control, no real say just trust that your parenting has given them a good solid base and you always just have to let go.  Even when everything inside of you is terrified, you have to just cross your arms tight against your body and hug yourself.  You find yourself saying “please, please, please…” in your head a lot.
  3. Screaming in terror is only allowed when you’re on the coaster without the ‘kids’ around.  When they are present, you have to STFU, nod a lot, say “that’s cool” or “I’m so excited for you”.  You have to put aside your parental fears and concerns so you can be supportive of their dreams and adventures.  It gets exhausting.  I wish I could find a better way to let go but I think the instinct to protect your child is so deeply rooted in your DNA by then, it’s fighting nature.  This shit is hard.  Some of the hardest things I have had to do as a parent is to just keep my big ass mouth shut.  I have to really focus on how I would want my parent to act.  Put myself in my kid’s shoes.  Some days, all I want to do is crawl into bed and pull the quilt up over my head.  I’m getting better at this, but letting go even if your oldest is now 28 years old, is tough.  You’re still terrified of losing them.  That NEVER goes away.
  4. You feel like a dick because of everything you put your own parent(s) through.  You know they are laughing behind your back thinking, serves you right.  But then again, they are on the ride with you, these are their grandbabies.
  5. Some days you’re on the gentle kiddie coaster where life is calm and just going along at a reasonable pace with rolling hills.  Then there are days, you’re on the biggest baddest muther roller coaster in the world.  This coming Sunday, I drop my oldest off at the airport for her to start an exciting adventure in France for a month and I’m going to be crying the whole way home.  Actually, I probably won’t even get out of the airport.  Who knew there was so much crying in being the parent of adult kids?  Wasn’t this supposed to stop once they graduated high school or college?  Nope.  I’m excited for her, I really am.  This is a dream of hers to travel overseas and I’m proud of her for grasping the opportunity full force.  She’s braver than me.  At her age, I would have been worried about so much stuff that I would have talked myself out of the entire opportunity.  I’m grateful she has the balls to do something I wouldn’t.
  6. This ride doesn’t end until you die.  I don’t think you ever stop worrying.  My mom worried about me up until her last day.  I have a feeling she’s probably worrying about me in heaven too.
  7. Like everything in life that is worth having or living for, it isn’t easy.  It’s intense, scary, joyful, fun, rewarding, full of love and fear all at the same time.  It’s not all bad.  It’s probably most of the time a very fun ride.  But those lows seem to be very low as a parent.  There may not even be anything negative happening to your child but there you are, locked and loaded, riding along screaming or laughing depending on the moment.

Parenting no matter what stage you are in is not for the weak of spirit and heart.  Though I rarely see much written to parents of adult children so here is a bit for you.  The great part is there is a whole bunch of us strapped into the same coaster, we just need to reach out to one another for support and to know we aren’t alone.  I’m here, I’m listening and yeah it’s one crazy ride.   Say a prayer for me this next month that I don’t go all crazy and such.  I’ll be happy when March 30th arrives and my baby is back home but until then, I’m holding on for dear life.  Au revoir!

Living in Joy After Abuse

Recently, I’ve realized I’ve been living my life according to some ideas I have stuck in my brain. These ideas have formed over the forty-eight years of my life for different reasons such as how I was brought up, my peers, constant media blasts, social norms, religion, so on and so forth. Truly, it’s hard to sort out what I really want in life through the many layers of ‘Shoulds”.

You need to go to college and pick a career that earns a lot of money.

Money is most important.

You need to not be outspoken or different. Follow the rules (social norms).

You’re a woman, you can’t do that.

Keep your mouth shut. Keep out of sight.

That’s a nice dream, but it won’t make enough money. You won’t be able to support yourself.

Are you crazy?

Why are you so shy? Why don’t you speak up in class? Are you stupid?

Go to church every. Sunday. Live a pious life (as the speaker does not)

Women are weaker, inferior to men.

Don’t associate with black people or people of color.

You’re a failure. Don’t do better than me. Don’t do anything that makes me uncomfortable. Don’t color outside the lines…

You get the idea. I have had so many expectations and rules (that aren’t truly rules) throw at me throughout my life, that I am just now unwinding all those messages to find my true self. All that I listed above has been said to me in some manner or another, usually out of love and misguided direction though some of what has been said to me is so that I don’t “do better” than the person giving me that message. People are threatened by you, especially when you don’t fit into a neat little box.

I’ve always been kind of the odd duck. I’m quiet and introverted; therefore, I’m either assumed to be socially awkward or shy or stuck up. I’m none of those things. I have never seen race as an indication of people’s worth or unworth. People are just people. I don’t believe one religion is ‘right’ and the rest are wrong. “God” to me, takes many forms and going to church every Sunday doesn’t make you a good person. I find “God” in nature, in people and in many places.

I don’t believe you have to be rich to be happy. I think having enough money to pay your bills and a bit extra is the sweet spot. I don’t believe you have to be what the general public deems as ‘successful’ such as being a doctor, lawyer, etc. Sometimes the people we look up to are the ones hiding the most. I don’t believe that “God” is wrathful, I believe “God” is love and therefore doesn’t give 2 shits about your sexual orientation, gender, color, if you tithe 10%, if your butt is in a church pew on Sunday, so on and so forth. I do believe “God” wants us to show each other love and kindness. I also believe that “God” wants us to find joy in our lives, not be cowering in the corner because we sinned. God wants us to feel his love not feel guilty all the time.

Over the years, I’ve tried different volunteering activities and each time, I found myself not sticking to them. I felt bad about myself, guilty. These people need my help, am I a selfish person? Then recently, I signed up to be a Lunch Buddy through Big Brothers Big Sisters for a 5th grade girl in my school district. Every other week (or more – she likes me to come weekly), I have lunch with her at her school, just listening and talking. to her while she eats her lunch. To be honest, I think I get more out of i t than she does, it brings me such joy. This made me realize that no, I wasn’t a bad or selfish person, I just hadn’t found my right opportunity. I was telling myself, everyone works with kids, I should work with the elderly or abused women, so on and so forth. For whatever reason, I was too stubborn to allow myself to do what I really wanted because I had some ideal in my head that I shouldn’t work with kids.

Where did this come from? Who knows. But that’s how I’ve treated myself throughout my life. Ignoring what brings me joy because maybe I don’t feel I deserve it or happiness. Growing up in a dysfunctional family situation, you rarely feel that you are important. The narcissistic nature of someone who is an addict or alcoholic takes over everyone’s lives and as a kid and adolescent I was lost in the shuffle. My needs were not important, I was overshadowed by my father’s issues. I’ve been essentially punishing myself all these years because of essentially what I was taught indirectly. And frankly that’s bullshit and I’m angry about it.

I’ve done a lot of self-reflection and therapy to get over my past and the fallout into my adult life. The last thing that I am struggling with is anger. I am calling bullshit on every single person who ever excused my father’s behavior because he was “sick”. Sure he tried rehab a few times but he just bullshitted his way through it and came home to do the same things usually worse. My childhood, my adolescence even though my parents divorced when I was 13 was a flat out abusive mess because of his f’ing sickness. Bullshit to each time someone excused his behavior – you were enabling him to not be responsible for himself. I understand it’s a sickness and people can’t help it but it doesn’t excuse the shitty treatment of your children. We didn’t deserve it.

Bullshit to the lack of domestic abuse laws that allowed my father to hit and beat my mother because they were married. If they had not been married back then, he would have been arrested. Again, this was overlooked and my mother was told basically that you are stuck, until she finally had enough and left. She would have left years before, saving us all a bunch of heartache if it had not been for those preaching religious shit about sanctity of marriage. Really? God wants a husband to hit his wife and kids? I don’t care if he was sick or drunk, none of us deserved it. No one deserves it today. The damage from this treatment is long reaching. I’m mid-life and still struggling to just allow myself joy. This is ridiculous.

Being addicted or having a mental illness is tough. It’s a big struggle, but please don’t forget about the persons, the loved ones in the addict’s path. Don’t let the addiction overshadow the victims. In my father’s case, he was never going to get better. I wonder though, if people had stopped enabling him, feeling sorry for him, and hadn’t expected him to take responsibility for his actions. Would the result had been different? What if he went to jail for beating my mother the first time it happened? What if she left the first time she wanted to, gotten support instead of shamed and pressured because they were married? My parents would have divorced when I was very young if she walked away when it started to happen or at least separated until he straightened up his shit. If he couldn’t straighten himself up, then none of us had to live in that hell. She could have still helped him get to rehab and such, but kept herself and us out of the firing line.

I’m not saying stop caring about the person but they have to take responsibility for themselves. They won’t get better until they decide that is truly what they want. It doesn’t matter how much begging and pleading you do with them, it really has to be up to them. But this is their responsibility especially when they are an adult. It is further complicated though by mental illness as in my father’s case. There is little resources to dealing with an adult with a debilitating mental illness. When my father was in nursing care, he was this wonderful pleasant person but outside of constant care, he reverted back to how he was. Dealing with these issues are very complex and I know it isn’t simple. But as victims of the disease, we can remove ourselves and take care of ourselves even though it’s hell watching someone you love self-destruct.

So now, I’m learning what truly brings me joy. In order for me to finish healing over my past, this is a key element. Letting go of the “shoulds” and finding joy every single day. Allowing myself to be happy because I deserve that as does everyone else. We don’t have to sacrifice our joy in life. I need to stop trying to live up to old expectations that never made sense to start with. To stand up for myself when my boundaries are crossed. Granted we all have to do things in life that we don’t enjoy to survive but outside of that, we are free to find our joys. We deserve love and good things no matter our past.

Go find your joy!

Surprising Revelation After Letting Go of Diets

Just a quick check in as I’ve stopped journaling about the whole food peace journey and wanted to let go thinking about it all. It’s been about four months since I embarked on this new way of life and no, I have not suddenly become thin. Actually I’m the same size. While this may seem like it should be disappointing, when you let go of worrying about your weight and body size, there is a surprising outcome when you let go. Happiness. Acceptance. More time to focus on things you enjoy.

I was inspired to write this short post when I was walking by the full length mirrors in my bathroom and I didn’t cringe, I didn’t criticize my body (even in my own mind) and I felt happy looking at myself. My body hasn’t changed. I haven’t miraculously become thin or super fit. Actually, I’m pretty fit for a fat girl and working on getting even fitter (not thinner – if that happens it does, if it doesn’t so what). Since I have stopped judging myself, my body, my weight and my appearance, I feel so much better about myself and my body. I see more positive rather than negative things about it and 0 has changed about my body. I actually like my body, fat, cellulite, freckles, scars, stretch marks, and muscle. I love what my body can do and I want to train so I can do even more. Not to mention I love just eating food without restriction or worry. You stop thinking about it so much and free up even more time.

Most of us as kids, go through a phase where we are fascinated with ourselves in a mirror. We look at ourselves, trying to figure out how we fit together. We didn’t stand there and say, OMG, my knees are fat or something silly like that. We are a wonderful, amazing machine of flesh, bone, blood and organs. It feels really great and freeing to look in a mirror and not criticize something about myself. To feel as if I don’t measure up with the other humans. That I should hide my body and hide myself because I’m fat or whatever.

I’m so dang happy about this. I can’t even express it. I also find I treat myself better in general. I pay attention to eating a little more healthy just because I want to feel my best and nourish my body. I don’t put off buying clothes until I’m smaller. Actually I’m going to sign up with one of those services who send you clothes that you can pick and choose from. I eat what I want when I’m hungry, when I want it. I still emotionally eat a bit but I don’t go overboard because I’m feeling bad about doing so. We all do it from time to time. It’s ok to comfort ourselves sometimes.

Come on guys, life is too short for diets and feeling bad about yourself. You deserve the very best and you deserve to be loved for who you, as you are, today. If you have to change your body for someone to love you, that’s just bullshit. Love yourself. Treat yourself well. Don’t put up with other people’s crap. Stand up for yourself, fat or thin, who cares. You’re awesome and beautiful and wonderful just the way you are. We need to be kind to others but also to ourselves. Especially kind to ourselves. Let go of the crap, let yourself be happy right here, right now, in this very moment. We only have this one life.

If someone said something hateful to you about how you look, who you are, well F*ck them. They aren’t perfect. They have their own flaws, one being that they are an insecure ass who has to put others down to feel good about themselves. Other people’s opinions are none of your business (not my saying). Stop reading those fitness and fashion magazines and articles telling you how to dress, weigh, and so on. Just do what you want. Who cares? I’m fat and I’m going to wear horizontal stripes. I’m almost 50 but I’m not going to dress like I’m ready for the nursing home or like I’m 20. I’m going to dress in what makes me feel good and happy. Screw those rules for how to dress when you’re 30, 40… Who said these people anyway? They aren’t the boss of me. They just want to sell products and magazines. Just like the diet industry is in the BILLIONS of dollars. Stop being their puppet. STOP IT!

Let go of the crap and let yourself be happy, right here, right now. You are beautiful, wonderful, amazing and loved right in this moment. Enjoy it. Set yourself free. It’s one of the best things I have ever done for myself, I hope you find that way as well. Ciao!

Starbucks Drive-Thru Offers Life Perspective or “Bitch, Please…”

Yesterday, my middle daughter and I went through a Starbucks drive through to get a hot chocolate and a Frappuccino. I honestly do not even know what a Frappuccino even is because I don’t drink coffee but I know it costs over 4 bucks. The girl waiting on us was early 20-something, pretty and blonde with a tattoo on her arm by her wrist with the word “Survive”. Granted I have 0 idea what this girl has gone through, I can’t judge her in the least but I found the tattoo to be ironic. Survive. Bitch, please…

Survive, survive, survive. As I drove away with my overpriced hot chocolate, in my luxury car with cash in my purse, I felt this moment of WTF. I don’t have a better descriptor of the epiphany than those three letters. When I think of the word ‘survive’, it conjures up visions of people huddled in a bombed out building trying to survive the night in a war-ravaged area. Survive is picking old discarded food out of a dumpster or trash can because you have nothing to eat. Survive is not eating so your children have enough food. We all have difficult things happen in our lives. Me included. I’ve had a ton of challenges but I never had to be afraid that I would not live another day due to war or not have enough to eat because I live in a poor county.

There is surviving and then there is ‘surviving’ which is where meeting the basic needs just to live another day. I’ve been close to the point where I was homeless or didn’t have enough to eat but I also had the opportunity and resources for aid or help whether it was from a family member, friend or government agency. It was scary sure, but my pride was the only thing that kept me from getting help at times. The help was always there.

But imagine if there was no help or aid. Even in time of great difficulty, I had a backup. I would not had starved and neither would my children. But people starve every single day in this world. People die every single day due to unrest and war in their counties. People die from not having medical care and treatment. Even in this country they do. Which is absolutely ridiculous considering our resources. And I’m driving through Starbucks spending 8 dollars on nothing. Then complaining about my work or something absolutely inane. In the big scheme of things, my complaints are very frivolous.

I live in a world where all 3 of my daughters are healthy and alive. I am married to a wonderful man (no our marriage is not perfect – everyone has their moments). I live in a very nice home, have nice vehicles, I can even have my toilet paper delivered straight to my house. Yet, I always find something to bitch about. Frankly I should be ‘the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse”. I bet those people huddled in a bombed out basement would love to trade places with me. To not wake up and worry if they will live through today. I have so much more than many people and yet, I bitch, whine, moan and complain. Even if there really isn’t anything going on, I find something to gripe about. It’s ridiculous. Every day I squander away my blessings by being a negative sour puss. Okay, I’m never going to be the super cheerful perky type, it’s not in my blood, but I need to start remembering how damned good I have it. Even if someone pisses me off at work or the store or whatever. Is it really that big of a deal? In the grand scheme of life, was it that big of a deal? Nope.

It is all in how you look at things. How you view the world, your world. It’s your choice. Being an old sourpuss even though you have a good life is a choice. Nope, life is not perfect. Fuck, nothing ever is. You could get hit by a bus tomorrow or end up with terminal cancer. Bad things happen and sometimes even in that, you’re fortunate anyway. It was hard losing my mom but I was fortunate to be with her most every day those last months and moments of her life. Nothing is forever, even though you want it desperately to be so. I have many wonderful memories, I hear stories all the time how my mom touched other’s lives and I see her living on in me and her granddaughters. If we had lived in a 3rd world country, I would certainly had her for 7 less years in my life. There would have been no treatment for her first round of cancer, only death. Even in the bad there is good. Seven years of having my mom in my life was an amazing gift.

Perspective. It’s something I’m going to seriously work on. And with that statement, I’m going to close this blog and go enjoy my blessings. And when I forget my wonderful blessing and opportunities in my life, I’m going to smack myself and say “Bitch,please…”.

Love to all.

Food Peace Journal – Final Entry – Just Living My Life

Today, four years ago, my mother lost her brave and ferocious fight with cancer. I’ve spent the weekend quietly reflecting in quite a bit of solitude. I was melancholy but not overtly sad. Reflecting on life. My mom was only 72 when she died and I’m already 48. Life is so short. Shorter than you can ever fathom. This is going to be my final entry on food peace not because I am giving up the journey, but because by focusing on this even though I’ve given up dieting, I’m losing precious moments of my life that I could be spending in other more meaningful ways. Diet culture and worrying about weight and what you eat steals days, probably years from people’s lives.

For me spending a bunch of time listening to podcasts and reading books on intuitive eating, etc. is also really not necessary. The just of it is, eat when you are hungry, eat until you are satisfied, don’t beat yourself up if you eat too much sometimes, don’t restrict foods or you will binge, you’ll emotionally eat occasionally, and eat when you want (no food is off limits except for medical or religious reasons). Trust your body and go back to living. Take the hours you worry about weight, size, diet, etc. and live. Spend time with your family, focus on your career (if that’s important), find your calling, help others, immerse yourself in your favorite hobby, travel, hike, bike, run, swim, spend time outdoors, raise money for a charity close to your heart, go back to school, start that dream career, sit and watch the waves roll in, whatever you love because it is all over in the blink of an eye. Get out and live. Get out and have fun. Enjoy life as much as you can.

For me, I unsubscribed from all my food/non-diet podcasts and I am going to replace them with audiobooks because I realize there are so MANY books out there I want to read. I’m going to streamline my home chores as I spend a large amount of time cleaning. You get the picture. Looking in my life to see where I am wasting time on things that don’t bring me joy and replacing them with things that make me happy as much as I can. I’ll still blog occasionally, on whatever happens to inspire me at the moment (hence the ‘random thoughts’ tag). I may take my blog back into more a travel/adventure type blog with entries about places I visit. I really enjoy writing about them (as well as exploring).

Thank you for reading my food peace journey, feel free to reach out to me if you have any questions or want some additional resources. It’s encouraging to see so many items available now to help you reach peace with your eating and loving your body just as you are. Acceptance is a wonderful thing as is diversity. We can’t all be skinny, we can’t all be white, we can’t all be straight, etc. The world would be so boring without the wonders of differences. Now quit reading this and go do something you love! Ciao!

Getting Angry With Chronic Mild Depression (Dysthmia)

For most of my life, I have struggled with depression at least mildly. There have been a few incidences where it has become more serious and dark for which I needed anti-depressants and therapy. Before I write anything else, if you are struggling with serious depression and/or are thinking of harming yourself, run, don’t walk to the phone and call your doctor or therapist. They can really help you even if it feels nothing can. Disclaimer: what I discuss next is not meant to replace treatment or a health professional’s advice or prescribed treatment. This is only my experience and may not work for another soul. Please do not stop your treatment without your doctor’s approval. Or not see a doctor or therapist if you feel your depression is persisting or serious. I can’t stress this enough.

Depression just isn’t just in you head but it is a physiological condition in which your brain chemistry is affected. I have been diagnosed with Dysthmia which is a chronic mild depression which you can find more information about at WebMD: https://www.webmd.com/depression/guide/chronic-depression-dysthymia#1. Scientists aren’t sure what causes dysthmia but they believe it could be possibly genetic, major life stressors or a combination of things. My cousin on my paternal side is affected by depression similarly to me. Over the past few years, we have discovered that frequently we can be in similar bouts of depression at the same time leading us to wonder if it is part of our genes. Also, our parents, his mother and my father, were seriously alcoholics and we both suffered dysfunctional as well as traumatic childhoods from this which also might be another reason we struggle with depression so frequently. People who have been victims of abuse and trauma seem to have higher incidences of depression as if the events whack out our brain chemistry. There are a ton of articles out there about this, feel free to do your own research.

The great thing about my cousin and I reconnecting after many years is that we have candid conversations about our current life struggles. Mostly by text as we are several states apart, we offer each other support and a sounding board. This fall, I was out hiking alone as I do frequently and felt the enormous weight of depression spoiling what was a beautiful hike. I had just written a post about depression a few days before and decided I was going to start keeping a depression journal in order to pinpoint what makes it worse and what helps ease my depression: https://laurasrandomthoughts.wordpress.com/2017/11/ For two days, I took a notebook and made notes on how I felt, how bad was my depression, etc. Then, feeling depressed, I decided to get out and walk since the day was warm and the sun was out. Trying “nature’s cure” (I do believe time spent outdoors in nature helps my depression immensely), I drove to one of my favorite hiking spots and started walking.

I texted my cousin as I stood on a picturesque bridge that crosses a small stream. I don’t remember what I said exactly but I told him it’s a beautiful day out, my life is good and I’m fucking depressed AGAIN. I returned to my hiking and for whatever reason I started to wonder if I was making my depression worse by focusing so much on it. Was I giving it more power than I should? Was doing journal entries on depression just keeping it in my life? I found myself angry. I was tired of struggling with this shit. The mind is an organ that we don’t understand but there are many studies on the ‘placebo effect’ where if you believe something is ‘curing’ you, it actually can work. While I don’t believe depression is “just in your head” and it is physiological, could I not change this utilizing the placebo effect theory? I didn’t know but I knew I did not want to go through the rest of my life with this monkey on my back.

Out of nowhere the mantra “Fuck the monkey, I am happy” popped into my head. Anger swelled around the words but also determination. Luckily, it was a weekday and the trails were fairly empty because I am not sure what people might have thought passing a middle-aged woman muttering loudly to herself “Fuck the monkey, I am happy!” At that point I didn’t care. I just kept hiking and repeating this phrase until surprisingly, by the time I reached my car, the heavy weight of my depression wasn’t there. A fluke? I wondered but felt better. When I got home, I tore out the pages from my notebook where I had been writing my depression observations. What if I focused not on the issue, but on something positive? So I started (and still am keeping) a “Challenge” journal. Each day I log two things – 1. What I did that day to get outside my comfort zone. It can be as simple as “pushed myself to walk faster” or “Spoke to a stranger at the store instead of ignoring them”. Whatever I can do each day to stretch myself, goes in this journal. I’m in a rut. I need to get out of it.

The second thing I record is a “Good Deed” or GD for short. Each day I am looking for opportunities to show kindness and love to people outside of my normal routine. Being nice to someone I don’t really like even though normally I just ignore them (seems like I ignore people a lot), helping someone at the store, saying hello and smiling at a stranger. One day, I was checking out at Walmart and there was this enormous woman in one of those electric carts behind me. She smelled bad and probably had a hard time showering. I heard her grunting painfully as she was trying to reach stuff out of her cart and put it on the checkout belt. Normally, I would have just kept my back turned and prayed they hurried up checking me out. This time, I turned and politely asked her if I could assist her. She was surprised and didn’t answer right away but she finally said “Yes, that would be really nice.” So I held my breath and emptied her cart for her. She smiled bit and thanked me. I told her to have a nice holiday as it was before Christmas and she wished me the same. While the action was small, it made me feel good to not be such a snob and do something for someone else even if they did smell bad. Just the act of stretching out of my normal ways, helps me feel more alive.

Two months have passed since the day I was hiking and adopted my “Fuck the monkey” mantra. Every time I feel depression slinking up, I meditate on this mantra no matter what I am doing or where I am. As soon as I can take five minutes to myself, I sit or lie quietly even if there is a lot of activity around me and meditate on those words with my eyes closed. I focus hard on the desire to no longer struggle with dysthmia. So how has it worked? So far, it’s been awesome. Even over Christmas which is very difficult for me since I lost my mom, I felt a few tinges of sadness but I did not sink under the dark, heavy blanket of depression. I’ve actually been truly enjoying life. I’ve been more positive and much less negative. I feel joy. I feel light. I feel peace.

While I hesitate to say that I’m cured from depression because I don’t want to jump the gun, I believe I found a powerful way to deal with it’s chronic presence. Getting angry and making up my mind that I was no longer going to allow depression to make me so unhappy, seems to have helped. Utilizing my mantra and meditation at the first twinge of depression so far seems to short-circuit the days and days of darkness. The mind is a powerful tool and I don’t believe we even understand the smallest portion of it’s function but I will take my results. I was using depression as a way to hide from the world and an excuse not to participate fully in my life. Oh, I’m depressed, I’m going to go brood in bed all day. Poor me. I suffer from chronic depression. Depression was my safety net when I didn’t want to engage in life. Maybe I was making myself depressed to hide. I don’t know but it makes sense.

This isn’t to say that I couldn’t have another major depressive episode or that the dysthmia will return full force but I am so very happy at this moment that for the first time in years, I feel really good. That I’m not anxiously waiting for the next episode. I feel as if the clouds have parted and the sun is shining over me for the first time in many years. The monkey on my back, weighting me down, is on hiatus. Hopefully forever. Life is too short to sit around feeling depressed all the time. It’s too short to hide behind depression. Maybe my brain chemistry is challenged, I think this is true, but if I have any way of influencing it, I’m going to keep using that method. Though I do not want to be on drugs. Those are good for short term if I have major depression, but I don’t want to utilize drugs every day if it can be avoided.

What I do know is I enjoy my life much more in the past few months than I have since, well honestly, I can’t remember. Maybe when I was a kid. Maybe ever. One of my goals for 2018 is to work on gaining inner peace even when there is a ‘storm’ raging around me. To not let people get under my skin so much, to be more positive in general, and as my other posts recently state, find peace with food, my weight, and my body. To live in joy even though life is far from perfect.

Here’s to finding peace and happiness.