Sneaky Like Ninja: The Plot to Rid My Days of Diet Cola

Amazingly, I've been good to my word. No matter where I am when I want to drink a soda, I drink a glass of water first. I don't like the water as much so it takes me longer to finish a glass than it would if I was just gulping down a diet soft drink. It means I haven't had more than three zero-cal drinks in a day since starting this...which is actually really good. I used to go right through them without bothering to notice how many I was having...only to find that I wiped out a case of 18 in a matter of just a couple of days.

So, down to three a day as of right now. If I started this quest with the mission of "I WILL ONLY DRINK THREE DIET SOFT DRINKS A DAY" and didn't adopt my BFF's plan to drag water in on this, I would probably do well by the power of sheer will for a couple of days but eventually lose out to the want for sweetness or caffeine or both.

The water is working. If it continues to work well for me, I've considered adding a second glass of water to see how that nudges things. I do know for certain that I will not limit myself to how many to drink in a day, and I won't make a pledge to rid of zero cal drinks by X date - that would only call on my defenses and I'd rebel my way back to drinking as much damn diet cola as I want.

It's tricky to work WITH my unreasonable behavior, rather than try to change it, but to do otherwise is to set up for failure. I want to win this.

The Dreaded Diet Cola Kick

I have the horrible habit of drinking can after can after bottle after fountain drink of diet or zero colas. For years I've had myself convinced that drinking them is OK and I've gotta have my caffeine somehow. Doesn't matter that I love hot tea and that if I limited my choices to tea drinking I'd have less of it a day. What matters is I USED to be a Mountain Dew addict and I'm not now.

Been wearing that "I no longer drink The Dew" badge around for so long that it's not only justified having zero calorie soft drinks, it's made me a goddamn super hero. But, while kicking Mtn. Dew was tough, I didn't totally let go of carbonated caffeine...so I didn't totally suffer....so I didn't overcome anything near world evil....so what was I thinking?

Using the excuse is what.

I'm smart enough to know deep down in my gut that drinking this stuff isn't any better for me (even if it doesn't threaten to fling me headlong into a Diabetic coma.) I'm honest enough to admit that I'd function better without it (even though I've convinced myself that I neeeeeed it.) And I'm swift enough to realize I will find even more elaborate excuses if I can't find a feasible way to kick my soda drinking habit.

What to do?

Copy my BFE - or at least his intention. We recently reset our lives by going through a process based on the book The Best Year Yet - something we practice annually now - and on his BYY plan, he wrote that he'd drink as much water as he does soda. That set the lightbulb over my head to "glow."

I don't know how he plans to account for it, but I know I can only drink so much in a day before I feel all sloshy. SLOSHY. It's a word now because I made it up. Anyway, I made a deal with myself on my own BYY plan to drink 1 glass of water for every 1 can/fountain drink/bottle of zero cola (or equivalent.) 

So every time I head to pour myself a sweet glass of caffeine a la phenylketonurics  en carbonate...I will pour myself a glass of water, too. And I can't get another diet drink til my water is gone. That's THE NEW DEAL.

We can talk about cold turkey quits later.  OK? Because this I can do.

Still Plugging...

You already know that I'm changing my life. My efforts derailed while my mom was in the hospital and I'm still not where I was before mom died...in terms of mindset, ambition and discipline. I'm getting there. I'm getting myself there.

What stings like the tip of a needle is a realization that, at the loss of my parent, no matter how sucky or frustrating she was at times, I am alone to do what things I need to do for my body and mind and spirit. It's difficult to loosen apron strings to someone whose life presence was a touchstone for my own. Sometimes I want to tie them tighter yet.  I want my Mommy.

There's an identity I've come to know while being her kid - a team-like feel I've held through the hell of weight gain, shredded self esteem, and rising phoenix-like from ashes to bask in joy-filled success. It's what we do, we humans. We are made to.

Having my head cheerleader mom to stick around through all of my stuff was precious to me. Having to be her head cheerleader was a hideous burden to me. One day I may appreciate that I could be. Right now, I feel the unfairness of being left alone and a responsibility to myself to kick out of the ashes knowing she isn't watching me. Or if she is, I won't get her feedback. The world around us won't receive her emails telling of my good deed or whatever.

I'd consider my feelings selfish if I didn't recognize this as a deeply childlike need of mine to have my mother. I'd even suck it up and cheer lead back to have her in my world.

I don't post a ton because I am drifting day-to-day...meanwhile setting myself up for success by hosting specialty groups via @meetup and working with a local media group to secure my intention to get back to weight loss work. I'm finding ways to cheer lead my own life. I don't like it as much...but I, being so accustomed to the "My Wen" of her voice and the bazillion email responses she forwards from friends telling her she has a great kid, I need to have that.

I considered being ashamed (only for a second). I'm not ashamed. I love attention and sharing everything I can. So, I'm going to. And I hope my mom can see. And I hope I get a "My Wen" whenever we meet up. Just the facts, Jack.

Incredible Shrinking Me

I bought a shirt at my old size because I wasn't convinced I could fit in the smaller version yet. And I wore the shirt tonight because it's pretty festive and suited Trans-Siberian Orchestra's Christmas concert. I think I could have gone down TWO sizes. I'm swimming! And grinning. And kind of annoyed at doubting instead of just trying it on. I'm resigning this cute top for use as part pajama til the neck hole falls past my shoulders.

You Don't Scare Me, Thanksgiving!

For a do-nothing day I've done well for myself and my family. I decided to hibernate this time around and have our turkey and fixings meal the same as dinner time normally is - a good choice for me considering it's most helpful to stick to this controlled environment while I'm transitioning from heavy carbs all over again.

I created a menu that would appeal to my vegetarian kid and my own low-carb lifestyle and it totally worked out...and I had to laugh by the end of our meal because we made little progress in the way of eating anything. The turkey'd barely been sliced. There's still a big casserole dish of dressing and a huge bowl of rutabagas. We didn't even finish our sweet potatoes. There are still green beans left over. There are NEVER green beans left over. I think the only disappearing act came from this odd green Jell-o/fruit/nut thing my kid can't keep her hands out of. There's a bit of that left, though.

Having satisfied stomachs and not overdoing it for a holiday's sake is a great feeling. It was a good idea to have options in front of me that, aside from the Jell-o thing that I don't really like anyhow, are of good quality, taste great and have valuable nutritional content.

Deciding to hole-up to avoid distraction was a good idea, too.  I probably won't be as anti-social this Christmas. I just needed the space to see that I could pull this off. I love that I could.

Edit: The Menu

roast turkey with pan gravy
sausage and apple dressing
green beans with shallots and almond slivers
baked sweet potatoes
mashed cauliflower
mashed rutabagas
honey-glazed carrots
green jell-o weird thing
relish tray (includes cranberry relish, pickles, olives and things)
veggie tray (cold, crunchy veg)

& I allowed one small pumpkin pie in the house for dessert

The Potency of Slow

I read so much applicable information in Anat Baniel's Kid's Beyond Limits that I've incorporated her methods for teaching children and parents of special needs the sacred art of movement into my everyday life.

If I was still reading this book in tidbits of time, only picking it up here or there, I believe I would have missed out on a lot of valuable material. Before I slowed myself down, I would have gotten the gist of the book and probably would've liked it...but the richness of taking it all in was far better.

I still have a lot of books to finish. This many:

Most of them I intend to read from the beginning so I don't miss anything useful.

This basket of books is symbolic to me. It is a heap of unfinished, in-progress, well-intended ideas that didn't get the time or the effort they deserve. When I leave open books all over my house and in my car....and only read a little at a time whenever/wherever I happen to be....I'm impeding progress, delaying gratification (of having finished a good read), being too busy, denying myself the real privilege of reading.

I do this to myself in so many other ways: take on way, too much...kick off lots of ideas that I don't have the time or patience for...and then suffer the consequences of having various items, people, events, projects waiting for my attention. And when do I ever get to me? I don't. Not with heaps of things like this all over my life.

So, I'm doing this "read one book at a time thing" to get through the book pile and get what I really can out of it. I'm doing a "take on one project at a time" thing, too...helping out Mason's Toy Box through December 19th. I've bolstered support for my own nutritional needs by hosting a REAL FOODS group in my home and it is slowly growing in membership and ideas are spilling and I'm not the only one generating them. I love it.

The difference shows in my body: I'm slimming down. I smile more. I feel good, generally. It's nice.

I'm "mastering" these things before I move ahead - and I have every intention to move ahead - at a pace that is more kind to me. I have a lot of projects waiting for my attention and I feel that's okay.  I feel much less guilt when I wait to do something and finish it....than if I jump to do something and don't.

Intelligent, Stunningly Beautiful and Engaging

I am happy to report that I shared a great weekend at the beach with my family, started reading book number three in my eternal list of books to read.

Now I am home and am contemplative of so many things. There is much I'd like to jump into; however, I am moving very slowly. I've already done so many things, jumped into each of them, only to find I didn't have the time I wish I had to give my full power to them.

Who doesn't want to be a woman that does it all? I'm figuring out HOW TO so I can share my experience when I start my (coming) podcast.

But just to keep my brain rattling, I signed up for a Coursera program called Principles of Obesity Economics offered by Johns Hopkins University. I'll bet you can guess why. I am going to fail this class because I started past deadline (didn't understand the start date due to vague emails sent) and I am flunking the quizzes. I can retake all the quizzes but I decided I wouldn't. The most important reason for me in taking this course is to understand the way economists, consumers, businesses and governments view the model of obesity...and to figure out where and what the incentives are for each mentioned party.  I'm understanding well, even though I'm failing quizzes, and I'm taking a lot from the lectures...most of them get my brain clicking and my hopes swirling.   I don't even feel like a failure and I'm failing. It's funny. And fun to learn.

I've signed up for a number of nutrition and food-based courses offered by different universities through this website and I am pretty excited to learn more and more.

And by the time I get my home space in order and feel content with the direction of my personal diet and exercise, I'll be happy to get the podcast going and share all sorts of findings via the program.  I have thought about it...and I could be ambitious and push myself to do, do, do. I'm pretty good at doing that. But, I'd rather stick around to go, go, go...and not burn out too quickly.

Also, I'm seeking the advice of a few other people who will help me be an even better Wendy - by which I mean business woman. More focused. More disciplined. More fun. More happy. More accomplished. (Yay!)

Doing more by doing less? I'll take it and I will love it! So will you.

Enthusiasm

I am learning to cultivate enthusiasm with the help of the second book on my list. I am learning a host of other things to go with it, but I want to bring forward how delight for the small stuff contributes to general happiness, contentment with things as they are.  Please don't confuse enthusiasm with acceptance because of what I am about to say. The two positions don't relate in this model.

Acceptance says, merely, "Yes."  Enthusiasm leaves an thumbprint, a feeling, "Yes!" that needs no voice.

I've experienced enthusiasm enough to know what it feels like.  Is there a way I can feel it ...most of the time? Yes!

In this book of several steps aimed at parents of children with special needs I am absorbing the importance of a slower pace, of varying procedure, of employing subtlety, finesse, creating much more flexible goals, and actively noticing neat things that contribute to my enthusiasm.

This is not a new concept in my bloodline. "Find the Good." is a family phrase we often tease each other with, but we do mean it and we do try to see silver linings even in the midst of anxiety and chaos. ...but enthusiasm differs from finding the good.

Bolstering enthusiasm is not a means to an end (or a safe place) like "Find the Good" can be. Enthusiasm is the feeling that remains one moment into the next because I have noticed good. I have not found good. I have noticed it - and I haven't got to spark a doob or drop a tab to notice.

Think of the how we notice and think of how we find. Doesn't noticing feel more gentle?

So when I gently notice things like.... well, I'll share my list of "neat things I notice" from two days ago:


Sheldon loves to cuddle with me in the morning.
I like making Hopper breakfast.
Hopper answered her phone this morning - she even lingered to talk and joke a tiny bit before hanging up on me (I gave her permission to because I snuck in a pretty horrible pun.)
Both my husband and my BFE were interested to know what I planned to do today.
April is back. (She is someone in my community who makes me smile, she just returned from a month's hiatus.)
Frank is really nice. He told me about coming to America after fleeing his communist country of Vietnam. Really interesting. It took him jail time, torture and a number of years to be free but he kept on.
Found out Joshua Radin is performing tonight with A Fine Frenzy!!! <3
It was easy to say when I'm going on vacation and won't be available to work.

There have been more things since...all these situational smiles that pile into the day which I could, and often do, forget about by the time I go to sleep at night, but because I noticed them and took a moment to enjoy them, and write them down, I've given myself the opportunity to feel that soft, internal, "Yes!" with each and every one.

This may look like a list of things I'm grateful for. It's not. It's just a collection of neat things I notice. Again, do you feel the difference?  I am....so in love with having learned this. It is going to take a heck of a lot of practice for this kind of noticing to become natural for me to do. So be it. :)

Love Revisited

Music, I have missed you. I wish I realized sooner how little of music has been part of my day to day. I am someone whose BFF in high school's first response (upon seeing me in person for the first time 20 years later) was, "YOU. Oh, my God, Wendy. You did everything you said you wanted to do. And now you're on the radio." and I was hee. And she embarrassed me by telling everyone in the room how attached to music I really was through all those years. "We couldn't go to the mall without spending at least an HOUR in the music shop. Name a music store anywhere in a thirty mile radius, they all know Wendy. We can't even go to Rhode Island without running into somebody she knows. Some singer or drummer or some DJ or music geek or whatever." I was red. But, she hit on how invested I was/am in music and how important its presence is to me.

How could I forget about it? Music is the stuff that permeates my bones and I find it so abundantly joyful that it tends to spill over the cup which holds my soul. I'm serious. I love to dance and sing, especially dance, or especially sing (depends on whichever I am doing at the moment) and I love relating to music and relating to people and relating music to people and being part of melody.

I have so much passion for music. When I'm not hobbling from a shit knee, I move lyrically. I tend to speak and write rhythmically. It's why my voice works well on air. My college professor once mentioned that my essays have melodies. That makes me smile.

And you know what I haven't heard much of in the past two years or so? Can you believe that? I used to submerse myself in the stuff and for two years I left the dial on talk radio (mostly to learn how to deliver a better show) and didn't much listen to music at home where the TV is often on...and certainly haven't danced a lot....and while I can't keep from singing all the time, there's little accompaniment most of the time unless Hop and I tune in on something we both like while in the car.

I miss music and I've rediscovered how joyful it makes me in the days of nursing my knee. Combined with words that really punch you somewhere, like your heart or your brain or your butt, is the best expression ever.

And the cutest thing in the world is that Hopper (my kid) wants to spend this Saturday watching musicals with me.  I have Willy Wonka to thank for that.

My Surprise Wake Up

I thought about skipping my blog post today, because I don't have a lot to share right now, but then I woke up pretty.

I am incapacitated due to a knee injury and haven't done much of anything since Friday night. I'm home, though, and doing everything I can to keep from getting sucked in by boredom.

But, I woke up pretty. My face was a comforting sight in the mirror when I hobbled to the sink to brush my teeth and all.  My hair didn't even suffer much for having had a tiny cat jumping all around my head through most of the night. 

Don't you love those mornings, though, when you happen to glance and notice you're not so bad looking after all? I'm going to avoid the mirror the rest of today just so I can remember that first look. It was a good one. :)

Your Feat, Not Mine.

I haven't done a WHOLE lot since leaving my Monday to Friday position at the radio group...and that's okay. I haven't had a lot of time to zone, just zone, and sort to figure out what's most important to me vs. what's most important to the world around me. Some things are in agreement. Some not so much.

I'm learning to be better to myself...which means the end of codependent behavior and a cessation to ego-saturating performance - something I don't often experience, but does happen from time to time.  I feel like an idiot because I've found that even though I know the best or right way to treat a person and a situation, I slip into the role of enabler.

I am better at being responsible and reasonable with friends than I am with family, but I'm not always good at keeping from being that PARENT, provider, puts herself last type with friends either. And with family, I am especially terrible at being...regular.

Growing up in a volatile household where I didn't know, one minute to the next, whether something would fly across the room at one of us (be it object or comment) or if something I said or did would cause enormous upset and then home would be a war zone of yelling and accusation and slammed doors and hatred....or if my pleading mother really would hold it against me if I didn't appease my stepdad or his kids with following the obnoxious rules and wishes, I felt, they didn't deserve to have. Not for how they treated us. Me.

I learned to "keep everybody okay," to the detriment of my feelings, and RATIONALITY. It's not because I care to be a martyr. I do not. It's because, and this is truer than true, I am afraid to lose the people I love.

I began to turn to God a lot at a very young age....around 7, 8.....because his words provided stability and very clear boundaries and more understanding than I received at home - certainly more compassion. If  I didn't have biblical stories, characters and principles to go to, I think I would be unreachable today; curled up in a closet, humming, rocking.

But, I did. Thank God I did, and had great examples of how people in pain took care of themselves, wound after wound, time and time again: They recognized God in their lives. They learned to view painful people through eyes of compassion. They relied on superhuman strength, that can only come from God, to move mountains. They acknowledged being broken and were willing to be made new.

I try to model after the people in the Bible to this day...but I don't always. I can't always. I still get scared and broken and all twisted up and don't know how to relate to people I'm in disagreement with when it comes to my deep needs and theirs. - Not surface stuff, and not core values, I'm good at disagreeing there!

Anyway, I'm in counseling to be less codependent, more able to let other people stand on their own two feet. Not mine.

Lucky There's Me

Little bursts of motivation happen continuously. I tend to fall into trouble when all the good-feeling starts to wane and my effort becomes routine. Can I be happy with routine? The sort of discipline that contributes to success?

Maybe I can. Maybe.

Now that I'm not over-employed I have time to lay in bed when I'd rather stay warm and comfortable. I can choose to ignore the internal alarm that has developed from my always-busy lifestyle. My kid is old enough to get herself ready to school and off in its direction. I don't have to do a thing.

But, I want to. I get emotionally high from taking care of my daughter. When I'm awake with her in the morning and looking after her just a little it makes me happy. Having to leave before she's off to school every day, leaving her to do whatever it takes to get there without my company, has sucked so much.

So, even though I can sleep in and ignore the urge to get myself out of bed, I realized (this morning) I wouldn't. There are so few years left for me to share these early hours with my kid. College is a future we can touch.

Having routine momentum is a tough one for me, or was, until I realized I can totally love my routine every weekday morning. And somebody else can, too.

We both get so pleased when I am ahead of her just a couple of small steps, just being around to listen to whatever mumbled ramblings she has on her mind before her school day starts. I make her breakfast....she takes time to eat it...we have a few minutes of exchange before she's off.

Normally, she grabs something easy (like a banana or whatever) and eats it or forgoes food til the end of the school day. Being home and awake for her day start is this is one thing I can take part in, be of help with, and enjoy 'til she is truly on her own. 

I know she's capable of getting here to there on her own.  She does a lot for herself. She has for years. I get to be a mom with my new hours, though, and we both like that.

For the past few months I've reduced my hours at work again and again until, finally, I decided to just be home...and in that time, she and I have grown together more closely. I have to credit breakfasts and the minutes of listening when she gets home from school. I am here for the debriefings and can provide a place to let out stress.

And you know what? It makes her happy. And that motivates me to be here even more. I mean here, in her life, on earth for as long as I can keep my life going, not just here at home. Her jokes, her health, her trust and confidence, the way she shares her life with me, expects me to just "be there" for her, is just the motivation I need for when my own momentum slows.

I tell everyone I am lucky to have her. I am.

Being home has shown me that she is just as lucky there's me.

I want to keep her lucky for as long as I can.

My internal motivation, my fitness, my health, is within me - there is no question of that. And right now I happen to like that I have new-found wisdom to carry me when my internal motivation starts to wobble. "Lucky there's me." Recognizing how important I am to my daughter, even in the littlest ways. Really cool reinforcement. I think I can love routine.

All I Really Needed to Know

... I Learned from My Dogs.

The saying "to every season its turn" is staring me in the face tonight. You know I have been in a state of transition for awhile now. Years. Change, GOOD change, is taking place even when I can't feel it. I've had a tough time feeling or seeing any progress/good change since the summer full of suck.

But I'm being gentle to my spirit tonight because I've learned a lesson from my dogs. Two of my dogs are house-trained, well-integrated parts of my family. Two of my dogs haven't had a chance to be. The two who have been crated while indoors and running amok in the fenced yard while outdoors have been mostly segregated from us even though we love them, feed them, spend time with them, socialize with them.

We have been so busy and tired and bothered that we didn't work to get them acquainted with life outside the box (while indoors, mind.) They are very healthy, happy dogs and get lots of love and run time, they're just not sitting by us while we watch TV. I want to change that. I want them to be as part of us as the other two are.

But they've been boxed for so long and there are behavioral issues between the pairs of dogs to sort out and there's so much work to do, so much work, to get everybody to where we can be in peace together.

I hired a trainer today. It is such a relief to say that. I hired a trainer to show me how to be with all four of my dogs so we can be the family I hope in my heart we will be. It is going to be a long haul. It is going to take patience. It is somewhat overwhelming....or, okay really overwhelming....!! But I'm committed to this and to them.

My homework is to spend a few minutes a day, a few times a day, while they are indoors and ply them with bits of food to do fun things like come when they are called....and sit....and make eye contact...and calmly hang out with us.

I accept that it is going to take us and them a few months, if not more than that, to establish a relationship that is more than, "Hi, I love you, good dog, let's go outside. Good boy. Good girl! Yay, outside!" patting and rubbing and kisses. Exciting, yeah, but hardly fulfilling for me, and I'm guessing them, too.

So, I have patience for them and their training. ...and I suppose I can have a little for my own, too. This "read one book at a time, eat a healthy breakfast each morning, soon to work from home" practice I started for myself is going to take time, too.

Tonight, when I called Dru over, I was able to give her a treat and say YES! because she heard her name and, more and more, kept coming back.  Spike got the hang of doing so after a good five minutes of trying to get his attention away from EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD. I don't even think he realized his name is Spike. It makes me sad/guilty that all this is so surreal to him...but I am committed. Yes. I am. To them and to me.

After an eternity, Spike finally learned he is called Spike and if he shows up when he hears that word he gets bits of food. And he learned that SPIKE! isn't a shortened way of saying "QUIT BARKING!"

Spike and Dru moved mountains with me today. I have to remember that my own small changes consist of getting over some pretty big hills, too. Even the ones I've climbed before and have to (sigh) climb again. And while I won't give myself kibble for it, I ought to give myself a YES!

And I am really grateful for Spike and Dru tonight. They prove that we can learn all new behavior. Even me.

Written While Wearing New Clothes

If you haven't already learned of it: Fashion Bug is going out of business. I am bummed because it is my favorite clothing store. They sell clothes that fit my personality (as well as my shape) in a flattering way and for an affordable price. I know they are paired with Catherine's and Lane Bryant online; however, they will soon be gone completely and my life won't be the same without them.

After  I saw signs on the window saying Everything Must Go, I did what any savvy Virgo would. I went shopping! And I bought clothes for my present size and for smaller sizes, too, since I'm going down in number. I brought the store gift cards I get from family members for Christmas and loaded up.

Trying stuff on is always tedious feeling to me. I completely hate doing so in the store, but taking something home that looks bogus on me is something I hate even more, so I try on clothes even if it takes me two hours of playing fashion show in the dressing rooms.

WELL!

I'm down a bra size. And a shirt size. And a pants size.

I haven't even done a lot of hard work since my mother's death in June - really, I haven't had the want to fight the inertia that comes from feeling so lost. I admit I don't have the same appetite I once did, so maybe that makes the difference. I haven't been skipping meals for sure. I do have better stamina for daily activities and extra things that involve a lot of walking and carrying or taking lots of stairs and things like that...I can't honestly account for why the new sizes, but I will take them. Just don't give me any credit please - I didn't do a thing to make it so.

I've only been reducing carbs at breakfast and only for about a week now. It isn't that either. So, I'll give this one to God and the mysteries of the world and just be glad in it. Sincerely glad. A lift like this can help me keep going.

Sha-doobie...Scattered, Scattered...

Shmatta, shmatta, shmatta....I've had so much in my head and on my heart and in my schedule and wedged into my responsibilities and I kind of lost my way. The phrase "You do a lot!" comes at me on close-to-daily basis. I DO do a lot. And I have way more in my mind to DO. It's because I am no mere THINKer, see. I am here to get things DONE. And that's pretty great and works incredibly well when I know what I'm DOing.

But, I don't. Or I didn't, since my mother died. I've kept pushing with ambition and, well, projects have especially taken a big back seat for one reason or another. I've come to accept that when world doesn't work with you, it may be time to pause and reflect and maybe find a new direction or let it go and find a new adventure.

You know things have been the SUCK since my mom passed away. I function one moment to the next. Sometimes I don't function. Sometimes I just sit and stare around at the room I'm in and can't think up a single thought, let alone DO something.

I have piles of belongings of my mothers kind of everywhere in my house. I have some things in my car, too. All of that is waiting for me to sort through it. Yeah, it's on the list.

And I have a child, a teenager, who gets a lot of my attention and time because I want to have and do as much with her as I can before she's off to college and only comes home if her clothes stink.

My mom's estate stuff is in limbo, so me, too.

Weight loss attempts have been immediately successful followed by immediately not. And I can't seem to drum the motivation to go all in again. Just can't. My evilbrain goes like this: "Uhuh, I see you waiting, treadmill. Fuck you, treadmill. Fuck you, fast food. Fuck you, walking suggestions and recipes from innocent helpers. I don't need YOU."

So, What do I need? Hugs. I need a lot of those. And...to find some kind of peace with my mom and her death. And I need to get better organized so that I can DO all the things I hope to. And I need to stop wanting to do more until I get what I have already started or gotten into sorted out.

I've started with books. I have, literally, over 40 books I am CURRENTLY reading. Over 40 books, all of which interest me, all of which I read, scattered kind of everywhere from the kitchen to the bathroom. There are books in my car, too. I follow all the stories and know where I am in them, but I think this books all over the place reality is a good example of how I am doing everything. Bit by bit, as I have time, as the need strikes, when the mood hits and all that.

So, I'm starting with books. I've made an excel spreadsheet of all the books I am reading and stuck them in categories like ministry, radio, pleasure, helpful books like how to be organized (HAHAHAHAH!!!!) so I can SEE what I have ongoing. And I've decided to read ONE book at a time (no matter how long it may take me to finish it).

I'm starting with breakfast. I'm not going to worry about drive through lunches or being in a hurry or too tired to cook or anything beyond breakfast. Every day I am making healthy breakfast. No drive through, no skipping, no quick carbs loading.

 I'm starting with a quit job. No taking on more stuff, either. I need room to do this sorting, organizing, counseling with Cara (behavioral) and Ivana (nutritionist), and time well spent with my kid. I can do more later, and be good at it and not overwhelmed and the world will work WITH me. Watch.

That's all I want to DO right now.

Craving Perspective

I recently discovered this story told of Socrates:

Legend has it that one day Socrates and his student were walking down the beach deep in conversation and Plato had expressed to Socrates his desire to gain the wisdom and knowledge that Socrates had. Socrates didn’t answer him, but instead said, “Walk with me into the ocean.” So, they turned and walked into the sea together. When the water was about shoulder height, Socrates asked, “What is it exactly you want from me?”… “Knowledge,” his student answered, at which point Socrates abruptly grabbed his student's head and pushed him down under the water. After a brief moment Socrates let his victim up and asked him again, “What is it you want?" “Knowledge,” was the answer again.. at which point Socrates shoved him back down under the water. After a length, the student began to struggle to get his head above water, but Socrates was a strong man and held him down until at last he allowed his captive a breath. “What is you want?” “Air… I need air!” “When you desire knowledge as much as you desired a breath of air, then you shall have it.”

When I desire weight loss as much as the student desired breath, no doubt it will be done.

Stand Up Eight

Good news: I was able to go in for an evilbrain evaluation on Thursday last week.  Based on my conversation, Cara used Transactional Analysis to help me identify the reasons I get so stuck in what I now recognize is a "high-strung parent" role more often than I'd like.

I was shown a few examples of why this may have become my mode of operation and I could think of plenty more once I considered my later childhood and adolescence - those times in my life when I was unable to feel accepted by my step-family members and sometimes classmates in school.

I've always been a liked person, but a fat girl. Fat was a dominant trait of my step-family members (and eventually, more permanently a trait of my mom's and mine, too) and I discovered years ago that my weight gain and fat maintenance was, and probably still is in some twisted way, related to a need for acceptance by these people whose attention and care I really wanted.  I wonder if my mom felt that way, too.

SOME classmates were not accepting of the fat at all; however, many did eventually overlook or get around my big, open flaw because they found me likeable and fun and even very active despite the size of my thighs. This hasn't changed much! Adults are very much the same way, I find. Fortunately, many people accept me as-is. If they didn't, I wouldn't have friends.

But as many friends as there can be, there is an overarching need for acceptance inside my body that strives to get fed again and again. It is not easy to work so hard. It would be nicer to not give a fuck what anybody thinks of me or whether they will accept me, and I do eventually develop the attitude...but this leaves me in the "high strung parent" mode, always working, usually more serious than playful, attempting to be righteous most of the time, pushing at other people to be better, pushing at myself to be better. There's not a lot of relaxation. There's not much of a 'high" either. Mostly, I feel stress. 

There is some reward for being like this and that is the feel of accomplishment. Accomplishment is for me, probably like it is for you, validation of a job well done. I LOVE the feeling of accomplishment because, and you'll get a kick out of this, I don't need anyone's acceptance when I've achieved. I accept myself. And I am glad to do good work and I am glad to be who I am.  Accomplishment carries me from one quest to the next and feeds me the sensation I can't get from anybody else.

So, can you imagine how stuck it feels to be SO actively high strung, striving for my own personal accomplishment at the ONE thing I can't seem to BEGIN to change, let alone conquer.  I can be good at plenty of other things. I want to be good at this.

And I can be.

You believe it. I believe it. Cara, Ivana, Barb, Debbie, my friends and family believe it.

I'm going to continue to work with Cara to try to get out of the "high strung parent" role and enjoy being an adult a little more, enjoy goofing off a little more, too.

And in the meantime, I'll use the behavior I have as a strength instead of a measuring stick.  No more "Why can't I just?" questions. No more defeatism because I've screwed up or gotten sidetracked or lost desire for doing the work.  I have to treat weight loss and health like I treat every other project I see through to accomplishment.

I quit my daily nine-to-something job so I can focus on actually doing just that.

An Important Reminder

I can't stop thinking of my mom and how much I miss her and how much missing her and wanting her affects my motivation. I roller coaster so much now. 

Since I can't seem to get my mind quiet and I can't stop thinking over every minute spent in the last two weeks of her life, I decided to look at all my Facebook posts from that period just to remember where my mind was, what was happening, because memories get distorted as time moves on.

I came across this poem. I wrote it for my mom (after years of begging me to write one for her) and was fortunate to recite it for her (though she was sedated and on a lot of equipment) two days before she died.

I cried so hard while I was writing it. I've never seen or felt so many tears or so much snot in my LIFE. I sobbed. I sobbed for everything I didn't do when I could have. I sobbed for everything I wished we could still do. I sobbed because I missed her already. I sobbed because it broke my heart to see my mom so sickly - knowing how much she wanted to live and live and live.  I sobbed because I held so much pain and yet, despite everything that happened all around me, soldiered like a daughter is supposed to. I sobbed because I didn't know what to do with myself, how to imagine life without her. I sobbed because I didn't know what to do. I was helpless. I was so so helpless.

my awesome mom

When I got to the hospital to read it, I did my best not to cry.. and I read it twice so she could know how much I meant every single word.

if you can't watch the sun rise,
i'll watch it for you.
if you can't get on your feet,
i'll stand up tall.
if you want to feel the ocean,

i'll run through it.
you gave me life, the greatest gift of all.
if you can't say you love me,
i'll just know it.
if you can't take a breath,
i'll drink mine in.
if you can't fight the fight,
i'll find the will, mom.
i'll savor life, the greatest gift of all.

And here I've been for the past month or so bouncing between emotional waves every single day...barely keeping my head above the dicey water. I decided to post the poem here so I can look at it for the promise it was and use it to curtail the want to stop the needs I feel with food. 

 

I wanted her to know I'd be okay. I wanted her to know I'd be successful. So, a reminder for me. 

I have another good reminder I can share with you - but not at this time and not next time! Instead I'll probably join you to debrief after my session with Cara (later this afternoon) some time over this weekend.

I'm a Mad Woman!

Evilbrain surgery was postponed because my daughter finally, albeit inconveniently, decided to follow my advice to see her doctor because she was feeling persistent nausea. Not wishing to miss the opportunity to get her in, I pushed my counseling visit with Cara to this week. Tomorrow, actually.

Thankfully, my girl is feeling better. She is a self-propelled vegetarian (read: PASTA-tarian) and her blood work requires iron supplements and B-12 vitamins. Because she's closer to adulthood, she is a lot more pushy and/or resistant to my concerns but she finally felt bad enough to see her doc. All good, too! She was ordered to ramp up her protein intake and to consult with a nutritionist regularly.

I am so pleased to report that she chose to see my nutritionist (Ivana of Yourishment) rather than anyone her doc would supply. That says a LOT about Ivana. Good work, Ivana! So far, increased protein is helping a whole bunch, by the way. Okay, so this visit with Cara tomorrow may be tough, but I need it.

This week has been so tricky because I...well, I realized I am depressed. I can't say I am clinically so, but I would believe it if someone diagnosed me. I'm just so up and down emotionally. I was high functioning one day yet couldn't even figure out what to do with myself the next.

I have not been able to think of my mom without crying - not even when sharing good memories - and no matter how many times I say she died, has died, is dead, has passed away, is gone...it does not get any easier. I sort of thought repetition would help me - that just being blunt, the way that I am, would help me with this overwhelming reality. It doesn't.

Every time I think of my mother being dead (or alive, which leads to thinking of her being dead) I feel a rock in my stomach. I feel unquenchable ache in my throat and chest. I feel nervous. I feel need. To curb my pain, I eat food. Worse, I eat easy-to-digest, easy-to-get or easy-to-make, quick-to-satisfy food. You know the type: Carbs. Uh-huh, and my next favorite food: melted cheese.

So, while my mind is so jazzed up and ready to not stay on the path which will lead me to a similar fate as my mother...my heart is so deeply struggling with despair and want. And my behavior is to soothe the hurt. I am rational enough to know these small fixes are not actually helping me - that they are just appeasing me moment to moment. Picture me drowning and reaching for reeds that pull out of the riverbank instead of sturdy branches that reach out to me.

With Cara's help, I am hoping to see a way around or out of this stupidity - this knowing what I'm doing to myself yet doing it anyway, this foolishness crap that hurts me just as significantly as the death of my mother does. I want to know how to overcome madness, because that's what this addiction is. It's madness.

Body Modification

Before now, I narrowed my intention toward getting thin or "getting healthy." In my mind, diet and exercise would, as other living examples show, result in a more pleasing figure and increased ease of movement, bolstered confidence, a better way of life, and earn the acceptance of fat-haters. Oh, and improve my overall health.

Health is that little price tag that dangles from the armpit of intention. You don't realize it's there unless it sticks you. It's the least motivating side-effect of working hard to modify my body and yet it is the most important one to talk about with others. Why?  Because, if I at least talk about health, it will get you off my case!

I like to do things at my own pace, my own way, without having to practice your suggestions.  Why do you insult my intelligence by telling me what works to lose weight? I've been a big girl for longer than I want to remember - don't you think I know by now? Maybe my body shape is proof that I haven't employed the tactics very well...but that doesn't mean I don't know how to take care of myself. Who hasn't learned that diet+exercise=win? And who hasn't failed at diet + exercise again and again and again? Buzz. Off.

Say hello to my evilbrain. It is full of ire and stress developed by years of denial, aggravation, failure, sadness - whatever negatives you can name to go with it - at not being able to lose weight even though I, like everybody else who has attempted it, know the magic formula.

And it has me thinking, if I know what to do, and I know it will work, why don't I just do it? What is getting in the way of my being how I want? Diet. Exercise. Diet. Exercise. Diet. Exercise. Imagine a brick in each hand, one with DIET etched in it, the other EXERCISE. Now think of me smacking my forehead with them in alternating strokes. Dude, why doesn't this shit sink in?

Because, It's not enough to know it. I really have to live it. Too often, I want to garner credibility for my efforts, no matter how small and inconsistent.

"Credibility is what you earn after you do what you say you will do." - Anonymous

Yeah.

I accept that I have a pretty serious food addiction that I need help to control. How can I have a successful go at doing so? Evilbrain surgery. It's drastic, I know, but I can't change my body unless I change my mind. So, I'm going back to my behavioral health counselor. Step two in my plan to take over my world.

I'll be back to share the crazy details of our Friday session.

Out with the Old

The definition of insanity is an idea I've taken very seriously, and paid better attention to, since the (June) death of my mother. I can't continue to look for windows of opportunity to leap at possible weight loss options, or dive into a program designed to make me thin and healthy, only to come up short or quit too soon. Behavior like that isn't going to make me anything but tired and even more overweight - but I've done it for most of my life. The result of that pattern has yet to be successful. I'm trying something new.

But first, a picture to share: My mother was a little over 300 pounds in her hospital bed. She didn't weigh that much because of fat. She weighed that much because of fluid, an abundance of which was the result of blood product backed up because a faulty valve would not permit it to flow through her heart.  She was swollen and it hurt her to move and to breathe. It prevented her from properly feeling my hand in hers.

I could believe that my mom would be living today if not for that valve, which is a truth, but the greater truth is that my mom would be living today if she was able to end her addiction to truly harmful foods.

It is an embarrassing idea, food addiction. It's not a gritty or street feel like drug or sex addiction, not a sorrowful, shameful feel like alcohol addiction. It has its own little sting and it's own slow, costly, painful game of roulette.

I have a food addiction and a major weight problem to pair with it. And like my mother I tried very hard to not have one any more, but an addiction is an addiction is an addiction and it is still there at the end of the diet program. It is still there when the commercials on TV tell you to run for the border. It is still there when you've stayed up way, too late and are honestly hungry again. The addiction doesn't stray.

I am NOT in agreement with America's new attack obesity - let's get that said right now.  I AM in agreement with Americans using their God-given free will to change their lives, so no government bailouts in the form of special diets and crude lawmaking, thanks. I believe I can manage my addiction, and I'll tell you how:

By choosing to accept that I will always be addicted to food - especially certain ones. By understanding the response of my body is the result of my choices. By creating a supportive environment for myself. By sharing the process. By making my life about me and my health.

That's not to say, "Fuck everybody else." It's to prevent me from being over 300 pounds in a hospital bed with no way to get out of fluid-filled prison. I'll tell you how I'm doing that, next.

My Mother is Dying

So here is what I would like to try to do:

Step One.

Get water and sand from her favorite beach - the one she has wanted to go to for over a year and has not been physically able to.  Get paint pans. Get a plastic sheet of some kind.

Step Two.

Find her Alabama and Josh Turner and other country CD's and a CD player.

Step Three.

Invite guests (everybody who wants to be there) to her private room.

Step Four.

Have her sedation lowered as much as possible so she can be with us.

Step Five.

Play music. Enjoy friends and family. Stick mom's feet in the sand-and-water-filled-paint-pans-ocean.

Step Six.

Make sure she knows she is loved loved loved loved loved. LOVED.

Alabama Beach Party, go.

I don't get called "party cat" for nothing.  I hope she'll stick around long enough to let me do it.

How'm I Doin?

Diet-wise, pretty well considering I'm in MA and old habits creep in very easily when I'm here. It's tough to refrain from old favorites like Venus pizza and Marcello's meatball subs, but I have avoided both pretty well. Didn't go to Mia's for pasta either - but I diiiiiid indulge in Peaceful Meadow's ice cream for my lunch today and my body told me (in no uncertain terms) not to do that again.

Being off of simple carbs and sugar for over six weeks means that a reintroduction can prove ugly for your GI tract - just FYI, no photos here. 

I am feeling the need to eat more veggies though. Eating on the go, as I am right now, it is tough to find good, green vegetables that aren't BROCCOLI every meal. Salads get boring.... so can't wait to go home and fix normal food again. Seriously.

When going home day is...I still don't know.

I had a good day, all told. I was able to do some laundry, met my mom's lawyer, got a whole bunch of stuff sorted out as far as her assets and income and what to do with what because mom has made it clear I should prepare for a time she won't be with me any more. I hate the very thought of it.

Tuesday, she took her rings off her fingers and made me take them, which nauseates me still. I know she is doing this to have peace of mind about stuff and to make sure she gives people what she wants them to have but I'm not -ready-. I want my mom still.

I've not cried as much lately because I feel like the hospital she is in is very good with her, very attentive, and I don't have to worry as much about her safety. Tomorrow we'll see a renal specialist and know a little bit more about their treatment options. Seems before she even has her heart valve looked at...they have to help her get her kidneys back to good. We are all hoping they can be. Hoping, praying, hoping, praying.

How YOU doin?  I really want to know.

Fuck, you know?

I have had three or four blog posts ready to write and now that I have access to a real computer with a working keyboard AND there's internet access...I cannot think of what to relay. 

I am staying south of Boston while my mom is in a city CCU with ultra filtration machine tubes stickin out of her neck. I spend 4-9 hours a day in the unit with her or wandering the hospital while procedures are done and I'm allowed back in.

The spin I'm in is....incredible to say the least.

1 week ago, I was standing in front of my classmates in a New York retreat center's chapel, eyes closed, heart wide open, mind quiet, emotions swelling, with a pair of hands on my shoulderss and another pair in my own, acceptin the appointment to treat God's people (meaning everyone I meet) with love and understanding.

I got ordained! It felt right to do - GOOD to do - smart to do...and authorized by God himself since I'd questioned time after time whether I should go through with it and become a real minister....and verses aimed me at Yes, do it. Yes.

Minutes after receiving the appointment to minister, I listened to my voicemail on my phone. My uncle was ranting about my mom's condition and told me to get to Boston right away. I called mom who told me to "graduate first" on Sunday...and I did, then she was admitted to the ER and I was driving to Boston from New York.

I do not know if docs can help my mom. I am not feeling great with my husband - not fighting just not feeling supported in what is the hardest time of my life. I miss my daughter who is at camp. I am in a hotel room for lack of a place close enough to mom to stay...where I wouldn't impose on anyone.  I am mostly alone and handling things like a weepy, over-sensitive loner with no direction.

1 week ago I had direction.

This week, there is a threat of losing my mom to CHF for good. I hit a car in a parking garage (fender scrape) and left my info with the office ppl there. I pissed off my husband for wanting to spend $30 more a night on a different hotel that didn't suck so much. My kid is afraid to get calls from me at camp cause her grandmother's in such bad shape. My GOOD knee has gone funky and is unstable. I walk funnier!  I have a bazillion things to do from home that I can't do from here. I am missing my job. I am missing my work, even. I can't do any of what I feel responsible for work-wise from here. I want to go home. I want to be with my mom. I want to sleep til it's all good again.

I feel sad. Very sad.

The good news is I am somehow still making very good food  choices. Maybe due to my mom being so so compromised.

I read my bible and pray and cry and pray.

That's...where I'm at. I hope you are OK.

Why You Should Name This Otter "Wendell"

I. Love. Otters.

That's really all you need to know; however, if you need convincing that "Wendell" is not only the appropriate name for the newest addition to the VA Beach Aquarium, it is the BEST name he could have. Here's why:

My cousin Ann has ten kids. I've been trying to convince her to name her child "Wendy" or "Wendell" since her third was born. No go. Not even as a middle. (Can you believe that?!) But, no matter, I believe I have a very nice name. It reminds people of Peter Pan and...and...and....hamburgers!

Aside from the really poor decision-making on my cousin's part, I've always wanted a namesake. And along comes this opportunity to name the new baby otter...any name in the whole wide world....and folks are piling up to call him BENEDICT.

I'm sure they have their reasons, but stay with me, please. "...the animal was so young when he was found, he became dependent on human care and it was determined he could not be released into the wild."  Look! He has abandonment issues. OMG, me, too!  He is co-dependent. OMG - Me, too! He's super cute! I can be sometimes.... :)

He likes attention. Check!
He's in the media. Check!
He loves to swim. WE HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON!

I want you to go to this website, scroll to the comments and type in "Wendell" because this baby otter deserves a good name. One that means "great friend" and doesn't rhyme with SCHMENEDICT. And because he has already made a friend of me. And because I love him unconditionally (just because he is an otter!) And because you are my friend and you want me to have my very own Otter (since this is the closest I will likely get to having one ever.)

And you should vote for the name "Wendell" because he will like his name very much.

Vote here: http://youotterknow.com/help-us-name-the-little-guy/

Thank you.

Join my campaign @wendytime on twitter!  And check out this incredible documentary Otter 501 which I am trying to get screened in the city of Charlottesville.

To "Me"...or not to "Me"

If you follow my sporadic blog postings then you know my mom is very ill. I have wrestled with my feelings about her decline in health. A few months ago, I came to the uninspiring conclusion that I have to lower my expectations of my mom. Her ability to change her situation still has a small window; however, she controls her life, not me. And while I'm busy fretting over her life, I am forgetting mine...and how quickly and easily I could be in assisted living if I don't change my own situation.

It's a lot easier to support someone I love than it is to support myself. Why? Because I don't have to do the work. I can be all the great things I like about myself: smart, caring, thoughtful, full of ideas, fun, helpful, a good listener, ready with a shoulder rub or a back rub or a pep talk on those not-so-great days...and I still don't have to do any of the actual work.  All the reward, none of the honest-to-God effort.

Do I want to gyp myself? To do so will mean a hospital bed and three people helping me get out of it just to use the commode. Or worse: staying in bed to soil it because I don't have the energy to push the call button let alone get up.

This is a reality, a probability. The proof is my own mom. I am not so far from being where she is, really. The difference between where she is and where I am is only a matter of years.

I've wanted her to change that for herself so much I was willing to do it FOR her. So what's my deal? Can I micromanage serious life change for my mom...but not for me?

The more I listen to my mom talk about her new world of assisted living, the more urgently I want to care about myself. That's why I am in counseling. That's why I pay attention to my habits. That's why I keep equipping myself with ways to change what I'm doing and how I'm being and feeling and align myself with people who make health their own priority and others whose example or presence makes me want to be even more accountable. 

I am micromanaging serious life change for myself now. I can't do my mom's work, and that breaks my heart, but I can do mine....and that could very well save it.

I'm Gonna Be Startin' Somethin'

There's always room for another fresh start. I am deeply considering a project ME opportunity. I've talked with Ivana about it and with my newly-found image consultant Deb...and I believe they will both participate. I can't tell you ALL details, but I can tell you that at least 1 new podcast will launch from my website before Labor Day this year...and that means a great deal of self focus.

I will be an ordained Interfaith minister this summer and to that end I plan to be involved with internet radio and podcasting - I will be in the public eye more so my image is even more important to me than it was when I could hide in a studio and simply be a voice.

Deb is going to help me find my image...because at the moment I stick to comfortable bum clothes while at the radio station and comfortable slightly nicer than bum clothes while working on the office side. What I want to do is wear the clothes I enjoy the look and feel of (mainly dresses, skirts) but can't find a practical reason to wear.  I hate shopping for clothes. I hate being in any one store for too long. I hate checkout counters. I hate the anticipation of being able to get out of there and on with my day. I feel like a guy shopper - I like to know what i want, get what i want, and get out.

Most of the time that means without trying anything on.

But, when I get something I really really like, I try it on and check it in the mirror, and make everyone around me take a look. I have been known to sleep in boots I fell in love with. Raincoats, too. Bathing suits. Just for the first night home.

So, while I hate the feel of being in a store, I love the feel of wearing something I truly like. A dilemma Deb will help with as she merges my wants with my needs for accommodating my body size, shape. Good luck to her!

So, Ivana: Nutrition. Cara: Wellness Deb: Image. Barb: Fitness. I have had to scale back a lot of things since my mom became ill. I am paying mom's bills. I'm meeting with Barb today to see whether she and I can pick back up...to see if she is willing to join me in my new project ME which I am going to make public if all goes according to plan. First, I have to secure my "A Team." Then, I have to convince two industry acquaintances that project ME is a worthwhile endeavor and that they should climb aboard. If I am able to do what I want to (but am afraid to!) I will have something big to tell you soon.

ME, convincing someone else that I am worthwhile.

Holy smoke, what has therapy done to my brain?  Where did this confidence come from?

Can I keep it?

Never-Grow-Up, Never-Grow-Up, Never-Grow-Up? That's Me.

Or a version of this is true. I have managed to become a reasonable adult who can make rational decisions - even RASH decisions - and I'm glad at the woman I've become. Yet...through music therapy with Cara...I stumbled into an awareness that I couldn't have expected and makes perfect sense:

I never grew up.

It is OK to eye that statement with scrutiny. As proud as I am of myself for surviving up to my forties, which I did pretty well despite obesity, there is a little pin prick of truth I can't ignore.

So here's how we see it:

Prior to the age of five, I was everybody's darling. I was raised an only child, was the only grandchild and niece in my immediate family...was the newest, cutest and may I say most talented youngest cousin mom's side of the family ever laid eyes on.  I was loved, massively loved, by a tight knit group of people who helped raise me and took care of me and my mom. I LOVED my grandparents, my aunts, uncles, cousins and I loved my mom - so so much. And guess who else I loved?

Me!

In my fourth summer, my life changed "for the better." Mom and I were excited to be moving in with a nice man, Jimmy, and his three kids (whom he had custody of since his divorce.) I'd barely met them before we did move in and for a while I was really, REALLY happy to be there.  Jimmy's kids, it seemed, didn't want for anything - not that I knew I did while living with mom. Our poverty was modest, natural, and I was happy with my life the way it was. And then I thought in Jimmy's house we'd be even more happy together, me and mom.

But the way my world was run changed very quickly and not very easily.  Suddenly, I was the youngest of four children. I understood I had to share my mom with them and found it hard to. They had to share their dad with me - and he would give me such praise for being so cute and delightful and entertaining (my natural way of being, not at all fake) and his kids began to resent me. My mom and I didn't have one-on-one anything any more. I barely had time to see my grandparents and my aunt Mabel who I really, really loved and wanted to be around. Visits were far, less often. I had to change schools and before long I had to put up with threats of being thrown out if I didn't let my brother or sister get their way - they would tell their dad to throw me and my mom out if I didn't X, Y, Z.

I went from being everybody's love to everybody's nuisance. Despite this, I still tried to matter...it just didn't take. Or it would take, but it would mean having to draw LOTS of attention to myself however I could. I wanted praise and I wanted love.

Cara says that children naturally develop from being Self-oriented to being more aware that the world doesn't revolve around them - a progression that occurs normally for the average kid. She senses that I didn't go through that process quite as smoothly or eloquently as I might have, given an ordinary circumstance of being the same fun kid living with my single mom and getting surrounded by her family.

So, instead of growing up the smooth way, I grew up the abrupt way, and it shunted my ability to feel important and heard. It caused me to believe I wasn't worthy of attention even though I knew better in my head. Even though I knew in my heart I was pretty cool.

My external validation had vanished and I never got around to navigating through doubts by myself. Every once in a while, I'd break that "glass ceiling" of expectation and I'd get the attention I liked, but as I said it would take such feats to accomplish.

I wanted to be Noticed. Liked. Enjoyed. Of course I still want to be.

Could the quick cord cutting have stemmed my development? Could this really be a reason I sabotage my own weight loss? Can I please get noticed some other way?

The Sum of all These Parts

Cara (she's the therapist I recently hired to help figure out my fat-friendly brain wiring) has been able to help me comprehend how a number of circumstances relative to my childhood contributed to the body which burdens me today.

I don't have the energy to write explanations at length tonight. I just wanted you to know that wonderful things are happening. I am starting to believe I can figure out why the hell I sabotage myself when it comes to success like weight loss....but not JUST figure it out...I just might be able to quit doing that and get on with feeling awesome. And able. And strong. RAR.

Sugar Addiction Looks Like This:

I can see so much of my behavior in this comic about cake. the story and pictures are so funny but that pinch of truth remains. This is how it feels to be addicted to sugar - vengeful feelings and all! Please have a look. and by all means: share.

Hyperbole and a Half: God of Cake!

Memory Serves

PALM SPRINGS, CA - "Waitress Insults Fast Eater, Stuns Family"

We were sitting in a Denny's, eating breakfast, coming to the end of the happiest family vacation I can remember. Breakfast was my step-dad's favorite meal and, in true lover-of-food fashion, he graciously allowed us to order from anywhere on the menu.

We ordered big.

I can't remember liking anything but ham and eggs at that early age, but I'm sure I ordered what would come with toast, with pancakes, and a big, big glass of milk. (In a family full of fat people, this amount of food is common for a nine-year-old to order at a restaurant.) 

Plates of pancakes were still steaming yet my step-brother, the skinniest of our bunch, announced he had finished everything on his plate - I mean he gloated that he was done before all the rest of us. Our waitress happened to be there just to see if we had everything we'd need. She saw the pride in my brother's smile, heard the tiny arrogance in his voice, and noticed he was looking to her for praise.

But, instead she made a face and said, "Pig!"

My brother's jaw hit the table. The rest of us laughed.

For years since we have preserved the memory of my brother being told. Well deserved, you smug, little show-off.  The grown up me now stares at this scenario with a new appreciation for what my step-brother did.

In a family full of fat people, it's kind of great when you finish all of your food - especially if you happen to conquer something big. I remember being so proud of myself, and so full, and so satisfied with life, and so full, and so happy, and so full, when my step-dad looked at me and said, "God love ya, kid." because I'd finished a 12" pizza. I did that. I finished it. I never could before. And now that I did it, I had my step-father's attention and acceptance AND I had a recommendation for God to love me. I was proud of myself. I think I've finished every pub pizza thereafter, and we ordered pizza on Fridays religiously for years.

So, yeah, my brother expected the waitress to be pleased and find him super cute and exceedingly interesting and accomplished and and and and and.  Why wouldn't he?

Food was LOVE.

Where've I Been?

If you remember, I thought it might be a good thing to see about some kind of therapy to help me succeed in my weight loss. I'm not on Biggest Loser where I can look Bob in the face and WAH my woes. Sometimes I feel so good about life and how things are going that I don't feel like I have any woes. But something keeps me fat, and it isn't my want for health that does it. So, I've taken a detour from my low carbs diet (which I repeatedly-yet-unhappily sabotaged) and I started talking to Cara (pron. CARuh). She's introduced me to some pretty whacky shit - like mandalas and drawing and is integrating music and meditation into our sessions.

While doing weird things feels strange, the experience seems to be helpful. I can better put words to it a little bit later. Right now I'm full of feelings and thoughts that I can't comfortably articulate, but I've missed blogging and I've missed your presence and comments and I've missed feeling INCREDIBLE and awesome - that's how I felt living low carb.

I have some mental and emotional work to do if I want the things Ivana is/has been teaching me to "stick" and become my lifestyle...and because I do want to live comfortably in my skin, I'm going to keep seeing Cara. And I'm going to be in touch with Ivana, my nuritionist, because I've not been very much. And I may even get back to seeing Barb when I'm ready.

I could just keep going and stopping, going and stopping, going and stopping and take both Barb and Ivana on the ride with me, but I fear I'd wear them out as much as I wear myself out. They've both proven willing to hang with me through success and failure alike - just like you have. I don't want to take any of us for a ride, though. I want to stop screwing up what's good and enjoy that. Easy right?

Wendy 1 Zucchini 1

I spent HOURS yesterday afternoon trying to crisp little slices of zucchini in my oven. After killing 6 zucchinis and burning or making goop of several trays of wanna-be chips, I gave up.

I vented frustration on facebook...and the heavy response was "food dehydtrator!" Now, I've got to say, I am no fan of these bulky kitchen annoyances, but if they're going to help me make healthy chips and widen my menu a bit without throwing me into a carbs spin....well, I'll have a look at getting one.

For today, though, playing it safe with asparagus, notatoes and cracked pepper-rubbed ham.

But, do hear this: I'll get you zucchini, and your little dog, too.

I did not get to church today because the one I love to go to is ultimately too far away. I've been an indecisive mess for too long, though, and wish to find one much, much closer to home so I can be a more committed churchgoer. I don't feel I need to do this to be more committed to God, I just need to have the set-aside time to bask in His presence with my family and a bunch of other imperfect people held together by a thread of love. Same as I can do in any grocery store - only more focused on sharing Divine energy. That's the stuff.

Team Paleo?

Last night, Rob took some time to read The Paleo Solution which is quite helpful...because he might take what I'm trying to do more seriously now. And wouldn't it be great if he'd be eating this way more regularly too? And when I'm stuck in a pattern or in danger of falling into one, he could be someone to counterbalance my little food phobias and nervous eating triggers. I would be for him. I am a fan of co-dependence so much.

But, mostly I am a fan of delicious recipes and the meat loaf I made tonight was perfect. I sauteed diced onion and diced baby portabellas in coconut oil (and a splash of bacon grease) and mixed that with some cream and 1 egg into a pound of ground beef. Smushed it into a bread-shaped pan and stuck it in the 400 degree oven for about an hour. Perfect. Moist. Flavorful.

Win.

Maybe I Need Therapy

I find that when I've got time to prepare meals (or portions of them) ahead of time, I do so much better on this thing. It's when I've run out of ingredients for things I'd planned to make (the people around here eat things up very quickly) that I have a very difficult time sticking to it.

So, I've got today at home while I'm trying to piece together things for/about my mom and her health care and home and work money troubles and I've got butternut squash in the oven. Spaghetti squash is next. Then I'll make a meat loaf and crumble up some beef and store it.

It's the little things that help me feel prepared and supplied and able. Without that feeling of being supplied, I go straight for the drive-thru.

And lately I've considered Cognitive Behavioral Therapy because it's like I'm wired wrong up there. If things have not been "just so" then I have tended to quickly and easily get derailed which means I am stuck at this weight...because I'll do really, very well for a while, then something will happen and I stop swimming. I sink.

So, yeah. I am really not afraid to pull out all the stops and try every tool. I sincerely want to break through barriers, not just leap over them to do a few laps around just to leap over them again. Like, I have to wonder is this something mental? Is it really JUST will power?

I MADE ZUCCHINI MY BITCH

I have finally learned the zucchini-noodle-making process. I've spent months trying to make proper noodles out of zucchini only to end up with lumpy, but delicious, goopy mess. We still ate it because it tasted good...but tonight...(tonight!) I totally did it right and well.

I didn't know we owned a mandolin, but it is the best invention ever for making zucchini do what you want it to. Yes! :) And it even looked like this when I was finished cooking!

The girls ate and liked it. I paired it with a zesty pasta sauce and made some eggplant parm to go on the side - which they ate up, too. My niece is staying with us for a little while and she's trying new things and not even gagging through it. Win!

Protein vs Carbs for Breakfast

I use Lose It! to food log and be accountable with my friend JD who is on there to drop a few pounds himself - he is a madman when it comes to walking and exercise and is very inspiring!

But that's not why I'm here right now. I wanted to tell you about a blog post I made on Lose It! a number of weeks ago when, after eating a bagel, I felt damned near lethargic. Fatigue was in my every single fiber, I kid you not. I queried on the Lose It! forum about it and got a range of responses, including a moderator who told me there was no freakin' way I would feel that horrible that quickly. She mentioned that blood sugar changes wouldn't be that fast...and maybe she is right. I can tell you I felt like absurdly tired and could barely, barely function at my DESK JOB within minutes of killing that bagel.

I have to think it's the carbs? The sugar? I felt next to comatose - no exaggeration.

This morning I overate. I had a big breakfast with steak and eggs and I even tried some sausage because I was weeeeak looking at it. I overate and should have felt the way I do after Thanksgiving dinner, but I did not at all. Fatigue wasn't even a factor.

I can GUARANTEE you that if I had an english muffin or bagel or plated myself some hashbrowns or home fries or had a biscuit on top of it all, I would not have been able to drive afterward.

That's the difference between protein & veg breakfasts versus simple and sometimes even complex carbs (not that I bothered with veg this morning. I was horrible!)

It is really hard staying away from carbs because they taste good or look good or bring fond memories at times...but the trade off? That feeling of sludge in my veins? It just isn't worth it.

Not. At. All.

I HATE feeling so tired and disabled.

Today's pure protein breakfast beat the shit out of wanting a bagel or biscuit. For real.

Whhhhhhhhhew.

Still going well with the low carbs choices. Could do better with the not-so-drive-thru choices, so I bring things from home regularly. I'm working on ways to pare down my hours of working on everything else so I can relax and be me and do what I need through all of this.

My niece has moved in with me. My mom wants to next.

Imagine!

Days off are amazing....!

I think I mentioned that I've taken a couple of days off per week so that I can catch up on homework to maybe graduate this year...and to have a whole day or two to handle mom's affairs because I've been working my two and a half part time jobs seven days a week and SHE HAS MANY AFFAIRS. I now do her job for her company which...well...makes for the need to take days off. Fortunately, I work for the greatest people who recognize that I could use this kind of help and they're OK with it.

So, I started the day by taking Hop to school - something I don't normally get to do - and enjoyed conversation with her. I went to the grocery store to stock up on some squash and laundry detergent, came home, put stuff away, fed the dogs, fed the cats and put this in the oven.

I made mine without scallions...and I greased the tin with a little butter, not spray stuff. Also, I baked them about 3 minutes more than was called for - but that is because I dislike goopy white parts in my eggs.

That's what's for breakfast. I did it for ME (and for all the great people and reasons I choose be in good health) and I pray this is the start of a very good day.

The best White Food ever

I am on my 3rd day of low carbs. It's tough to get away from them once I get sucked in, but I've been constant in trying to eat enough protein, veg & fat to keep cravings for them and just overall hunger from taking over.

This feels like the most ridiculous diet to ever imagine or attempt...yet I know it works for so many others and it is working for me. My favorite food on this meal plan is: Cauliflower. It can mock so many things, from "tater tots" to mashed potatoes to pizza crust and is incredible. It's my cherished "white food."

½ cup cauliflower (50 grams): 1.5 grams effective (net) carbohydrate plus 1 gram fiber and 12 calories.

See what I mean?

I hug it so much.

Last night's dinner is this morning's breakfast...

It is much easier to tote the container of chicken and zucchini in creamy tomato sauce than to go through the drive thru for some nasty sandwich that is only going to funk up my metabolism and cost me minutes on my way to work. right? right! I'm not zippy enough to want to cook a good breakfast just yet, so leftovers are my bff's right now.

Also, I will probably be hungry before I leave work, so I've packed a snack for when the hunger hits: spinach salad with pepperoni and cheese to go on top.

Let's hope this is enough to get me past fast food island from hell on my way home.

I did finish making a vat of chicken stock which, with a little ginger, makes INCREDIBLE eggdrop soup. I'm aiming to have that for lunch.

So, I have a plan. *NOD*

One Successful Day

I am happy to report that I've been low carbin' it for this entire day - successfully so! No drive thru crap for breakfast or lunch. I didn't even get myself something sugary while at the Dunkin Drive thru for somebody else.

I started the day with chicken, tomato & pepperoni breakfast - yes, I did - and proceeded to get groceries, do dishes, clean up the kitchen, get laundry done, talked to mom, called people regarding her business stuff, called her health care people, called her local pastor, and booked interviewees for this weekend's radio show.

And I had the whole day to do it with. I didn't have to crunch it all into four hours of after work crunch time. I. FEEL. GOOD.

I've had to do some uncomfortable things lately...like admit I can't do everything (why do I keep thinking I can?) and slowed myself down a LOT. Tomorrow, I will have a prepared breakfast AND lunch to keep me from getting messed up and to help me navigate past that Island of Drive-Thru Hell that I have to drive by every day to and from work.

I know from my past experience that preparedness is my best help with this stuff and I'm glad I had today to do things that would help me face tomorrow prepared for at least a good eating day.

It's only been one day without carbstuff and, while I still needed a midday nap, I feel...so good. Accomplished. And even energetic a bit. :)

You Might Want an Update.

Since I've been gone....

My mom's health has declined significantly. I am doing my best to work with doctors, nurses, clergy and others to somehow encourage her to try. She has a window of opportunity to choose to thrive or just exist in the state she is in now for her remaining years. months. weeks.

My cat has died. And as hard as it was to watch Crackers pass away, I'm glad we were home with him and tended to him. His death was heartbreaking, tender.

My big dog has survived major surgery. Simon doesn't know it, but he's probably the biggest light in our year so far - having made it through a very very complicated surgery. He still has some complications, but we're giving him love.

My littler dog has a bowel problem that may indicate a mass, but vets are cautious in diagnosing just yet (maybe because we have already been through so much?)

My mom's business has continued; though its financial situation is still a mystery. I am hoping to secure a lawyer who will help us figure that out.

My mom's personal bills keep coming in and one by one I'm doing what I can to pay them off with her minor income and my own paychecks. At times I have to use savings to make sure bigger things are taken care of, like homeowners insurance and stuff.

What am I doing for me...

Well, I am not dieting. I've gone back to a carbs-heavy, fast-food lifestyle. I am not "as bad" as I used to be, being more conscious of what I am doing every time I order at the drive thru and every time I shove carbs in my mouth....but I am still doing it and I know I am addicted to them. I want to go back to not eating them so heavily and readily, and go back to preparing meals more regularly for myself and my family, too.

I am not going to the gym. If you ate as many carbs as an addict as I have, you wouldn't be able to either. I sleep midday instead. I crash and I sleep.

I've made attempts to change back to the lots of greens, protein & high fats way of living, and I keep on trying to....and rushing through life, trying to handle too much gets me grabbing for what's easy: fast, processed crap.

But my mind knows this is not ok. My body doesn't FEEL good doing it. I can feel pounds adding back on - to my legs especially.

I'm not doing my homework - or wasn't - because I hadn't the energy or will to get it done.

Drastic times, drastic measures.

This is a fight. For my life.

So, I've asked for some time off from work - reduced a couple of days a week - to get myself "on track" however I can. I will begin with homework and cooking meals at home that I can bring with me to and from work and stuff - having food ready to heat and eat is what made me so successful prior to mid-January.

Small goals are what work for me, so if I can manage to get dinners to be carb-free (have been doing all this week) I will move on to fixing breakfasts. I know that once I've got this shit out of my system I will have no problem exercising.

Beginning again sucks. But the alternative is to be in bed like my mother.

Achey Me.

We're spending one on one time with Crackers (our cat) whenever we feel we can. He's up for being cuddled just a little. Mostly he wants to sit on his own, tucked away in the restroom on a towel I doubled up for him. He's moving pretty slowly and the phases our vet explained would happen are taking place. It's troubling letting your pet die on his own; yet, none of us is able to give a go ahead for euthanizing him. Either choice is a hard one...but we're pretty resolved to try comfort measures right now.

I feel bad for the times when he would hop up to be in my way and get some loving that I pushed him off or set him aside so he wouldn't be a nuisance or get in the way of what I was doing. Granted, I didn't do so EVERY time, but the times I did were pretty ignorant of me. It was only a few weeks ago. His decline has been rapid - too rapid - and heartbreaking, but we're trying to give him the dignity we'd give any one of our relatives who is dying by loving him the best we can while he's still among us.

It's the first we've ever done this. In the past, we've had a cat and two dogs who died very unexpectedly so there was no goodbye time, no extra TLC, no being with them through the scary part.

The vet believes Crackers understands what is happening and is doing what comes naturally to cats. We just love him so much.

I've had a horrible time with food all over again - and my ambition is half-hearted with just about everything. I'm sure some of it comes from worrying about and mourning my cat and some of it comes from worrying about my mom and stressing over her world of issues and some of it comes from that lonely feeling that happens when you realize at the bottom of your bottom there is no one to pull you out - it is really up to you and whatever faith you can muster.

If I didn't believe in God, I'd be an even deeper mess. But, I do. I really do. And I pray that we are doing what is right for Crackers and that we are being respectful as we hang with him these last days.

Plea.

Okay, so, it's not hard to realize I'm in trouble with my diet. I believe that I'm resorting to high fats/heavy foods/carbs & sweets because I'm too stressed out. I know the gym will help with stress - as will time - but I need to stop this like right now. I keep resorting to horrible choices and have zero energy to put into cooking or making something better. I don't want to screw up all the good work I've done! I had lost 50 pounds but it won't take much to gain it back at this rate. My rational mind is well aware of this. My emotions have taken over and when it comes to food, I find myself thinking "eff it" and putting healthier choices on hiatus. I'm writing this because I want to stop hurting myself - I am not intentionally hurting myself - and I need help. An anchor. Something. Mental reboot?

Sweet Relief

Okay, so it's on. I asked JD and he was cool with connecting on Lose It. I like the app a lot. I'm so used to having to go through hell on the WW site and with Fitday and My Fitness Pal - this Lose It! site is so so so much easier to me....and, okay, it's cuter. I am a fan.

Fitness and nutrition aside, I've been learning a lot since the start of this new year what with my mom going through her ordeal and my routine, finances and lifestyle needing to stretch a little wider to provide for her and her business along with my own. I've had opportunities to get upset and frustrated with a whole bunch of things, from negligent hospital practices to odd family squatters hanging out at mom's while she isn't doing so.

I've had bouts of anger, despair, frustration and the bad (REALLY bad) dreams that come from taking on too much and stressing myself out. It had gotten to where I was complaining about everyone and everything adverse to whoever would listen to me - and it wouldn't take a whole lot for me to resort to cussing and freaking. Like, I am not used to so much going wrong to such dire ends. I am not used to trying to breathe while buried under heaps of woe. Once upon a time I could and did...but I've done so much to improve my life and my outlook and my situation that all of these feelings are such a nuisance to me now. I really hate them.

And then something happened. I was at this peak of irritation to where I wanted to shout for so many reasons and shake the stupid out of people who keep making these tough times even tougher than necessary...and then I just wasn't angry anymore. Just as I was running out of all that emotion, as the numbness took over, I was getting back to my homework...picking up a book about the Jewish philosopher Hillel and reading things he'd written, spoken or stood for...and I felt my heart again. I softened.

I read things he said or did to people who wronged him or who, more importantly, wronged God and I realized I still have that sense for kindness inside of me. I hadn't become so embittered that I couldn't somehow be honest in telling people what I am feeling without telling them off. I realized I could formulate words to go with my emotions that wouldn't be striking someone else down (even if you'd agree they'd deserve it.) And I decided to write letters to the people who I'm feeling wronged by. I began writing in my head what I'd want them to say and by doing so I felt myself forgiving them.

That happened some of Saturday and some of yesterday and today...I feel so much lighter. Nothing's better. Nobody else is any different, just me. But, I feel like things are going to be okay where I really didn't know WHAT to believe as of last Friday.

So, I'm grateful to my studies for giving me that little reminder of who I am despite all of these things that could add up to crush me. I'm good. And I'm happier being good to people than I am saying shit about them and wrecking their lives just because I feel like shit within mine. Knowing that has been a freeing, freeing thought.

"That which you hate, don't do to others. That is the entire Torah," Hillel told him.

The Nicest Things

They say these come to those who wait, but I'm here to tell you waiting has had nothing to do with the niceness that has come to me since starting this blog. To say I'm touched by the connections I am making is an understatement.

Today, a friend let me know he reads this thing and has been inspired to keep working hard for his own health and safety. I think that's such a sacred thing to tell me and to share with me. I'm over the moon. :) Thank you, JD!

JD also told me of an app he's using to food log and track weight loss. I've tried FitDay and a few other apps - I've even maintained a Weight Watchers online membership just to use the points logging feature - and failed miserably because I'll track well for a while then procrastinate until I forget to bother.

I've even dragged my friend Kelly into using a tracker online with me and we both waffled, although she stayed pretty true to using it better than I did.

Anyway, I asked JD if he'd like to be my friend on this new-to-me app called Lose It! I kind of think that it's a good idea because I'm a bit better about doing things I've got to have accountability for. I CAN waffle and fade out of doing things like that, though, so I have to approach using the app with a sense of realism....STILL....I've hit that reset button with the low carb lifestyle, I'm in touch with a group of other people doing the same thing via my nutritionist, Ivana, and I believe that I would treat JD differently than I would Kelly. Let me tell you why.

Kelly and I are close. JD and I are friendly and I would say mutually courteous and compassionate, and close enough to be encouraging. We are not close enough to forgive each other/ignore that something is missing if one of us is not showing up to food log or if communication about the weight loss stops. We're not close enough to use each other as an excuse to fudge a little. With Kelly, I have a buddy, but I also have a partner in crime. I have that in my husband, too. If one of us goes astray on the meal plan, the other does, too. (Kelly's a bit better at not doing that than Rob and I are!)

I don't have that too-close comfort in my friendship with JD - and I don't think I'd like to. So, yeah, I've asked him if he'd like to be friends via the app and basically just kind of be there for each other to add weight to each of us having accountability - instead of adding weight to ourselves.

I think it's worth a shot. I have learned that it helps if I pay attention to my handicaps. Sorry, Kelly! I'm sure I will still drag Kel into my next food logging attempt even if JD says yes. Then we can all benefit.

And I've made a starter goal in order to be on the right track with my low carb lifestyle again: eat low carb breakfasts, which includes at least one serving o' veggies every time.

And away we go.

Begin Again Again.

Tonight I joined a teleconference with some great people who are ready to trim the carbs from their diets. I've got to clear the carbs out all over again and get to where I'm choosing naturally great stuff to cook up and gnaw on instead of take out and drive thru yuck.

It felt good to talk to other people who are trying the same things. Listening, and even hearing myself speak, brought up enough reminders of why the diet is so worth doing. It works SO well.

In the time I stuck with Yourishment and routine exercise of 2-3 days a week, I lost nearly 50 pounds (kept teetering!) in about 5 months. My thyroid levels increased. I could walk much longer distances without stopping for back pain or to catch my breath, I could maneuver quickly. I could feel my body slimming. I liked touching my legs and my stomach and marveling over the differences. My triglycerides went down. My cholesterol was coming into a better balance. Mind clarity was great. I took Navy SEAL training class. I smiled more. I moved comfortably. I felt capable of more. I...defied expectation.

And I realized that is what I truly love about this weight loss regime: I defied expectation. Whatever I expected - whatever anyone expected of me - whatever medical proofs insisted - whatever physics applications offered - I defied expectations over and over and over again.

Now that I know what I like so much, I am making this my little personal mantra: Defy Expectation. Because I can. Because I DO. Because I have found a successful formula. I'm going to put this little saying...everywhere. Because being able to Defy Expectation and go way beyond or way opposite or way differently makes me feel powerful. It gives me the biggest thrill in the world.

Thank you for supporting me.