And the scale calls my name...

There are so many things to catch all of you up on -- not sure where to even start.
My daughter and I spent a week in Puerto Rico (with a school tour group) and it was amazing. Spending time with her was such a treat and it was fascinating to see her reaction to the sights and sounds of another culture.
For the first time in her life she was approached by a beggar and saw homeless in the streets. She is such a kind hearted and deep soul, these events made a significant impact and I think she's still processing everything. I tried to use it as a reason to count her blessings and I think she'll do that.
We had an opportunity to snorkel in the Carribean and float with bioluminescent plankton. For a while we floated hand in hand and I hope I never ever lose that connection with her. She's at such an amazing age right now -- just coming into her own -- developing opinions and personality. As we floated with our ears in the water listening to dolphins click and watching the stars on a moonless night I couldn't help but hope the moment would never end -- that she would always be willing to hold my hand in the dark. But I know in a matter of months she will grow beyond needing her mother. I know it's the goal; make our children indepedent -- but there will be always a part of me that wants to feel of her small hand in mine.
----more on Puerto Rico later ---
The thing I love about snorkeling and am loving more and more about swimming is that size doesn't matter. A few years ago, I would have never had the guts to swim, much less snorkel, because I was under the impression I was too fat to exist.
(I can't believe I was that silly)
Once my kids started to get more active I couldn't stand the thought to being a sideline mom -- I never wanted to be the mom sitting next to the pool not wanting to get her hair wet -- or not wanting to be seen in my swimming suit. I will not be putting my life on hold not now -- not ever.
So a few years ago I conquer my fear of water and getting my head wet to snorkel for the first time. It was amazing.
When you're floating in the ocean with a snorkel mask on your face, you have to relax. You have to breathe. You have to be in balance with your surrounding. My weight didn't matter, my ability to stay calm and peaceful matters. It was incredibly freeing.
Last week, while floating in the Carribean, I had to again remind myself to relax, believe in myself and allow my body to float in the salty water. I saw amazing and beautiful fish and plant life. When I allowed my self to be free it allowed me to enjoy an experience that I would never have had.
It was, however, in contrast to how I felt the rest of the week. The humidity of Puerto Rico took a huge toll on my energy levels. On our first full day on the island, we hiked through a rain forest. I had thought that my morning walks had prepared me for the walk as it was only about a mile or so -- (at least that's what they said) --but the humidity and more of an incline than I'm used to about did me in! While I completed the hike, I kept beating myself up for being so out of shape. I didn't give myself any credit for jet lag, the humidity or the fact I hung back just a little to help a friend. From about that point on, everytime, I looked in the mirror I only saw my enlarged tummy. I only saw puffy feet -- swollen to the size they were when I was 8 months pregnant. I didn't give myself any credit for being on my feet the majority of the day, the long bus rides, the humidity or the salty food we were consuming regularly.
Before I'd left home, I was feeling pretty good about myself. My strike against obsessing about my weight was working pretty well. I bought new skorts and I'd swear they felt more comfortable than the last time I bought clothes. For some reason, while in Puerto Rico, I fell back into old patterns of obsessing about how I looked and why I looked that way.
Back at home, those feeling have subsided. I have to admit, however, that each time I enter the bathroom the scale seems to call my name. Here's what it says:
"Just step on and check in. You've been working very hard and it would be good to check in to see if you really should feel better. We won't know until we see the numbers. Just step on and find out if you are doing as well as you think."
Now why on earth do we do this to ourselves?! Why do the numbers on the scale mean anything? Why do I and countless people like me judge health on numbers on a stupid little machine instead of what's in our heart, how we feel or the choices we make each day?
When I started my strike a few weeks ago, I really thought it would be easy, but I've found its very difficult. What I do know, is that in those moments when I do allow myself to be free are some of the greatest moments. The trick, as the strike continues, it to turn those moments into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into days.
I'd really like to hear how other strikes are going -- please comment and let me know if you're struggling or thriving? (or a little bit of both)

Moving on?

Just right this minute I made a decision.
As I was opening this window to write, it came to me.
I'm going on strike. Taking a stand. Hanging my head out the door and shouting, "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore."
From June 1 to Sept. 1, I'm not going to worry about my weight. I'm just not going to do it anymore. I can feel weight lifting from my shoulders as I type these words.
You know, if people spent as much time trying to -- oh I don't know -- end world hunger as they do worrying about their weight and appearance, there just wouldn't be any world hunger. We'd probably have peace and and end to poverty.
I'm going to challenge everyone in my life to take 90 days off. Spend the time you would normally spend worrying about how "fat" you are (even though you're probably not fat) and do something else. Read a book. Volunteer at the local library. Find something, anything that brings you joy and do it.
Here's the catch: you have to check in with me weekly and tell me what you've been up to. Leave it as a comment or something or send me an e-mail and I'll post it here.
Feel the freedom. Wow --
Ok -- Now having paranoid thoughts. Can I really do this? I've tried it before, but always fall back into old destructive patterns. It's going to take a team effort folks. We must keep reminding each other to stay on the freedom path.
Oooh! Let's make it a movement -- let's spread the word to our friends and families. For 90 days don't worry about your weight. Stop comparing yourself to other people -- especially their appearance. Just be who you are and be comfortable with it. Bless you body by doing something that you enjoy that is physical, if you can. Don't put anything in your mouth unless it really blesses you. If that piece of chocolate makes you happy, and you're hungry, enjoy it. Allow yourself to live in joyful peace with your body and food.
This is not forever -- you can back to judging yourself by what it says on the scale in September.
In the meantime, how cool would it be if we all judged our self by what we DID instead of how we looked? What if your self worth was connected to our true spirit instead of our pants size?
Dang -- this might be fun.
Let me know what you think!

Memories of me

It's Memorial Day.
We've spent the day with family. Very nice. Very blessed.

As the "unofficial start" of summer, I often spend this weekend contemplating the summer's activities. How can I work as much fun into the summer as possible? Can I get all the projects done I'd like to get done? How can I use this unstructured time to its highest potential?

I might spend an hour or a day planning, fussing, contemplating -- but is it worth it all?

Would it be better to just take each day as it comes and not get over planned?

Is there a balance?

The last couple of summers have been difficult at best. I have a good feeling about the coming season and don't want to get any more overcommitted than I normally am. There's so many things I want to do -- projects to finish, adventures to share and as usual I'm having a hard time controlling my ADD. I want to do it all. Do it well. Do it now.

So I spent the better part of the weekend nestled on the deck of our cabin in the woods and lost myself in a book. I decided distraction would be the best way to avoid over planning.

I am aware that I can set myself for disappointment -- usually by trying to get more done in a day than most people get done in a week. Then, wondering why I'm not getting all the items on my "to do" list done.

If I could just relax this summer -- do the things that bring me joy -- wouldn't that allow me to get the best of my "to do" items done? Wouldn't that allow me to do so without killing myself and making those around me crazy?

Here's the problem -- I suck at that.

I thrive on chaos. I keep reminding myself about my "Opposite Day" plan. Surley, somewhere inside me is the ability to embrace the "now" to do the things that bless me and not those which only feed my ego and the chaos!

Here's what I know -- in those moments when I have, in fact, allowed myself to pursue joy and follow my bliss -- great things have happened. I've felt great -- doors opened to new opportunity -- and then -- I can't really put my finger on what happens... I stop.

It's as though I have a fear of success.

I used to think the fear came being afraid I'd raise expectations -- and then not be able to live up to those expectations -- but these days I'm not so sure.

After all of this time -- all the things I've been through in the last few years -- could it be I'm still not comfortable enough in my own skin to allow myself to just ...be ... me?

Sometimes I wonder if it's my marriage -- which is never very stable. My husband does, indeed, make me crazy.

But I keep thinking I can rise above that discomfort -- I want to exist outside of his expectations or anyone elses for that matter.

Are my own expectations too high -- is it me self sabbatoging?

What would be so wrong - what's there to fear about being me?

Terra Therapy

Hello all --

I've been working a project for http://www.swap-bot.com -- actually several. As part of one swap, I'm keeping a journal which I will send to a swap partner next month.

Thought I'd share it with you... just for fun.

Saturday May 16, 2009

I got hurdled by a lamb this morning.

Thus began a crazy, busy day.

I got up early to put the finishing touches on some petit fours I made for a Girl Scout tea party. I’d always seen them in magazines, but I’ve never actually made them. I was quite impressed with myself.

The kids had to load up their 4-H animals. My oldest daughter has a dairy calf project, my other daughter has two lambs. They’ll raise them until late July, when they’ll be sold at the county fair and the records and books they are keeping will be judged in competition with other kids. The calf is fairly tame and easy to maneuver on a halter. The same holds true for one of the lambs – named Hailey. The other lamb is smart and ornery. For the last ten days this lamb, named Janel, has managed her way out of harnesses, escaped capture at all turns and in general tried my patience at every level.

This morning, the lamb and I were going to come to terms. My daughter and I developed a plan. She would walk the lamb into the barn, I would corner it, and get a new harness on her. The plan worked pretty well, at first. My daughter walked Hailey the lamb into the barn. Janel knew something was up. She kept bleating and willingly followed my daughter into the barn. I thought we had her. I hunched down to catch her. The lamb took one look at me and leapt over me.

Only I would get hurdled by a lamb.

Eventually, I did catch her and she along with the calf and other lamb got hauled down to the fairgrounds for a preliminary weigh-in. 

Then, off to the Girl Scout Tea Party. Last year, I expected 30 people and 100 people showed up. This year, I prepared for 100 and 30 people showed up. Go figure.

In general, though I think it was a  nice event. I think I’m going to create a board of directors for the Girl Scout troop. I don’t think the adult women in this community feel like there’s enough opportunities to mentor young women. The willingness is there, but no formal structure. Will work on that over the summer.

 

Left the party in a mad dash to pick up my son from Farm Safety Camp. Thankfully my sister met me part of the way. Turned around to drive the 35 minutes home to meet my sister-in-law and her family. She was dropping of her son for the week. My husband decided to go to some stupid Extreme Fighting event early. He stayed until I got home – must have got the message I wasn’t impressed with his decision to leave before I got home and while his sister was visiting. Perhaps it was when I screamed into the phone and hung up.

Took the kids out for Mexican food, then back home for a movie. I chatted on line with friends till the weeee hours of the morning. I’m so thankful for old friends… and for facebook … the comfort of cherished friends is such a tremendous blessing.

 

May 17.

Woke up without power. When the power goes out I have no water. I can cook because I have a gas stovetop. But you can’t  wash your hands, flush the toilet – it’s like camping.

The power stayed off until 11 so we passed the time by working in the garden and yard. I came to the conclusion that gardening must be a lot like raising children.

You work the soil – adding positive elements like fertilizer and additional soil when needed. You til and til and til until it’s ready for planting. Then you carefully plant seeds and water and care for those seeds until they’re ready for harvest.

I’m not anywhere near done raising my kids – but I find I’m in the improving the soil phase. I’m adding things here and there to improve my seedlings chance for survival. Books I think they’d love. Family vacations. Meals around the table.

The garden provides a quicker return. Just as I’m fascinated by the evolution of the plants from seed to table – I’m so enjoying watching my children as their personalities really start to take shape.

This year has been pretty incredible so far – I feel like I’m closer and closer to being comfortable in my own skin. I think the garden’s going to play a role in that – if I let it. I’m calling it Terra Therapy and hoping that when each shovel full of soil turned over I’ll find a part of myself. Something hidden beneath a crust that has been allowed to build over too many years of neglect and stain.

So far I’ve managed to till most of it – taking care to protect the onions which grew voluntarily – they were already there.   In the morning I’ll rake a few more weeds away and begin planting. I’m nervous. Each year I try to garden and each year I fail.

Something about this year is different though. I’m not sure I could name the difference – but I feel it. I’m not secure in this thing yet – but it’s there.

In the same way, I’m feeling stronger about myself and where I belong. I’ve seen glimpses of this here and there along my journey, but have always returned to the safety of the known – the chaos that has ruled my life. But I can see growth on the horizon and anticipate a bountiful harvest.

 

Back in the saddle again

Ok -- so I fell off the Opposite Day wagon. 

It's seems I leaped off the Opposite Day wagon and jumped right on the self sabotage express. 

Uggh.

Don't you ever wish that you'd wake up one morning and you'd just get "it". That colossal "IT" -- the goal -- the you can take care of yourself and stop putting yourself on the backburner and do all the things you intended to do before some stupid switch clicked off in your brain and you -- oh, I don't know -- shoved copious amounts of food in your mouth or forgot to pay the bills (again) or forgot to pick up your son -- or whatever.

I have great ideas and pretty good intentions most of the time -- and then I get lost somewhere in the must do's and wannabe's of my life and I don't accomplish the simplest of goals. 

"Write every morning" -- I oversleep, get sidetracked on Facebook, or realize I forgot something that "just has to be done right now" and I don't write, journal, blog or anything.

"Cut back on sugar" -- Are you kidding? Like a moth to a flame I can see and smell sugar at a distance and then can east huge portions -- even though I instantly have a headache and gut-ache  and I KNOW I feel so much better when I eat sweets in moderation.

"Stop identifying myself as old and fat" -- It's a great excuse for not being myself right? If I comically complain that I'm old and fat -- then people don't assume I don't know what I look like. I make fun of myself before anyone else ever gets a chance, right? I can read your mind -- I know what you're thinking. You think I can't climb the stairs because I'm too fat to carry my carcass. It has nothing to do with the arthritis in my knees -- I probably got that because I'm fat anyway. 

I don't know what it is sometimes -- what it is that causes me to act in a way I know doesn't work -- It's like I'm stuck in this victim role and I create situations in which I can be the victim of.... whatever....

But again -- if I can embrace my "opposite action philosophy" I know what that victim role feels like -- so, it would seem I could switch directions without too much confusion.

It's Mother's Day, so I got up early to write and the purging of the words in my head has lifted a bit of the pressure. So for today, I'm not going to be a victim of my thoughts.

I'll head the other direction and find a new path ... who wants to join me?

Happy Opposite Day!

When my kids were little, there were times they couldn't find matching shoes. So, we created Opposite Day. Normally you would wear matching shoes so on Opposite Day, you'd wear shoes that didn't match. (This aided us in actually getting out the door instead of continuing to look for missing shoes. It did generate strange looks for people in stores -- but so what? The kids thought it was great) Eventually we  all got better at keeping track of our shoes, but every so often, Opposite Day sounds pretty good.

I've been thinking of celebrating Opposite Day more and more. This time, however, it won't be about shoes. It's about action.

If my normal activity would be to say -- leave a mess in the kitchen thinking I'll get back to it -- then to celebrate Opposite Day, I'll put everything away.

If I usually would eat something loaded with preservatives and grease and salt and anything else that doesn't bless my body, I'll do the opposite.

It was my friend and guide Bard who gave me this idea. We were talking the other day and he suggested I embrace and feel the chaos my life normally is. Then, do the opposite. I know what the lack of control and dysfunction feels like --so it would seem simple to do the opposite, right?

Well -- it's more difficult than it sounds -- but I've been trying it off and on today and it's pretty powerful.

If I can feel how my life isn't working, I should be able to visualize what my life would feel like if I did the exact opposite. 

So -- I've been taking babysteps. Normally, I would leave my purse and bags in the car, thinking I would know where all my stuff is and not bring it into the house to create another pile in there. But my pick-up eventually becomes this shit pile -- full of all the things I didn't bring into the house. Then those things get stepped on  or blown out the door or I eventually shove everything into a box and then I can't find it. 

So in honor of Opposite Day, I'm cleaning out the truck. 

Here's the other thing I want to do today. I really need to get some work done in my flower beds. Normally, I'd stand out there and look at the amount of work that needs to be done, get overwhelmed and go find something else to do. So in honor of Opposite Day, I'm going to call a friend who recently lost her job. I'll see if she wants to work for pay or barter -- I bet she could use some beef or cheese, of which I have plenty. So we'll work together, making it more fun and more efficient. It doesn't have to take all day -- just a few hours together would get a bed or two done. 

Then we'll probably have to have lunch in honor of Opposite Day!

I figure if I celebrate Opposite Day for one day, it might build into a week, or a month-- even a lifetime! 

Looking for answers within

Imagine for just one moment that you already had everything you already needed. 

Seriously -- take a minute right now, close your eyes and think about this:

Everything you need is already within you.

Embrace this notion. Make it yours.

This is my challenge for the coming weeks. Has been for a long while -- but am feeling the need to return to this center piece.  Let's hear it again:

Everything you need is already within you.

Pretty freeing, eh?

Here's another one:

There is no fear in what is real.

Think about that -- if something is truly "real" -- and I'll define "real" as something that is "of God" or "Divine". 

If you can get your head... and heart wrapped around this... wow! Think about the freedom it would bring -- especially -- at least in my case: freedom from guilt. Guilt is a fear based emotion so if I know there is no fear in what is real -- when I'm feeling guilty about something (which is 90 percent of my life) I can ask myself: What is truly real here? What's bothering me, really? 

I've had these thoughts rattling around in my head for the last few weeks as I continue my search for balance and good health. I was talking to my spiritual guide, Bard. 

I've always had a problem with puting myself first -- I spend way too much time taking care of anything and everyone but me. And guess what? I tend to do that out of guilt. (see above)

I feel guilty taking care of something only for me when there seems to be so many other people and projects that need my attetnion. I keep thinking I have to earn joy -- but really, joy is a divine right. Being joyful, to me, means living in the light -- in the Love that is "natural law" -- that of God's own making....

The other day, Bard challenged me to to create the "Karma hour" -- the time in which Itake care of me. The past couple of weeks have been a little intense (more on that later) --so tomorrow my plan is to spend an hour starting at 9 a.m. focused on me -- and I've chose to go for a walk or create something or write -- something I love and need and something that blesses my soul.

Maybe it doesn't even need to be a full hour -- but in the big scope of things 60 minutes isn't that much time. It just sounds like a lot. But if you add up all the time I spend taking care of everything but me -- it's not even a drop in the bucket. 

And here's the clencher....I deserve it....and so Do YOU!

Speaking My Truth

This blog started as a way to find my way through self acceptance, overcoming an eating disorder -- improve my relationship with the scale and food.

I have had moments when I think I've conquered it all and moments when I have felt that I have done nothing but move backward. Today, in many ways, is one of those moments. In the last six months, I've gained 15 pounds. In the last month, maybe two, I've been consistently in the 300s. 

I've deleted that statement three times -- but it is my truth and all of you must know. I must say it, own it. It is real.

I try to down play it. But my heart is pumping like I've run a marathon. I'm filled with emotion. But here's why I'm doing this -- again -- because I deserve to be honest without shame.  My readers, most of whom are my dear, sweet friends deserve to know the my truth as well.

I know this is not supposed to be about the numbers. The numbers on the scale, the numbers on the tag -- but the numbers are imprinted on my head and speaking my truth is the ONLY way to erase those numbers.

I know that my struggle with self acceptance is tied deeply into filling that void--Everyone has a void inside them. How you fill that void is, really, what defines who you are and what you do with yourself -- yourlife.

While other people are addicted to drugs and alcohol -- food. I am addicted to volunteering -- to event planning -- to staying so involved in things outside of my life, I don't have time to look in the mirror and answer that defining question: Who am I? and then, Am I ok? 

In reality, I either don't  know the answers to those questions or I'm afraid I'll have to answer no.

Even now as I write this, I'm fighting the urge to check my e-mail or Facebook -- distraction away from material that I find incredibly painful.

At times in my life I've filled that void with alcohol, food -- perhaps even sex. These days I have filled it with busy-ness. Part of me likes to believe that I'm using my God-given talents to make the world a better place and often I'm lost in that. This serves a higher purpose, I tell myself and others -- I'm doing a good work  -- give me a break. I'm too busy to walk or eat right -- I'm doing good work -- I'm giving back -- I'm make a difference in someone's life.  It doesn't really matter how I feel or what I look like, for Pete's sake -- I'm an activist, a leader in my community. 

The reality is that activism starts at home and home is defined by its first meaning -- home is me -- my soul. 

I have spent the bulk of my adulthood nuturing, feeding and caring for every one and everything but me - anything but my soul -- my heart -- my home.

So lately, I've been thinking about what it is that truly nutures and feeds my soul. I know, from experience that it's certainly not food, or self pity. It's not volunteering for every committee, every role I can play other than the reflection in my mirror -- the star of my own show.

I know that my truth lies in creativity -- in writing -- sharing my truth with others as a way to heal both myself and others. I know I must create to live. I run from this so very often -- thinking that it's not worthy. That I must produce something to be worthy. That I must achieve and accomplish in order to be deserving of love and happiness.

My truth is, that it works in reverse. I am deserving of love and happiness because I exist. I must create art and write as a means of feeding my soul what it craves the most. 

My error in thinking all these years is that I must produce and achieve in order to deserve the time it take it takes to create -- to do the things that bring me joy. 

Of all the obstacles I've had to overcome in the last few years, this is the myth that is hardest to erase from my mind. 

Myth: I don't deserve joy until I've earned it by achieving something measured outside of myself.

Truth: By pursuing joy and filling my senses with the love of creativity and writing -- achievement will follow in it's place -- and also bring me peace and joy.

Imagine the freedom in that thought. 

So today I give myself permission to pursue joy first -- and welcome the rest to follow.

 

My true calling

I had the most interesting conversation this morning. 

Remember the accupuncturist I saw last fall? The one who looks like a combination of Chris Isack and Lyle Lovett?

Well -- he's on sabatical in Hawaii right now, but I managed to get in touch with him. Here's why. I've been looking back on the last six months -- analyzing what when wrong and right. I felt great when I was getting his treatments -- or so I thought.

He's now practicing evolutionary astrology -- a way of using your astrological signs as a tool to find your true calling in life.

I've never paid a lot of attention to astrology. It's fun, but I take it with a grain of salt. But, I really like this guy and he really helped me in the past. So -- what the hell?

Any -- to make a long story short, he said that according to my signs I need to focus on communication... that writing is my true destiny and calling... In fact -- that all of the drama and trials I've had in my life are designed to provide me with a story to tell -- and that other will be healed ...

We've talked about this before in this space -- So he didn't tell me anything I didn't really know. But here's the thing -- I kept thinking he was the reason I felt so good last fall -- but after going through the notes of my conversation, I think the reason I felt so good was that I was writing for myself more than at any other time in my life. I was working on the book.  I was speaking my truth --honestly and openly.

He says there is a whole in my soul -- my communication is leaking out -- because things are out of balance at home. I need to communicate more honestly with my husband -- but I'm afraid. In the past, when I've been honest with him, he's reacted in rage -- so I'm afraid to talk to him. But because communication is such a big part of who I am, the inability to talk safely is draining me all my energy and my power.

Makes sense when you put it that way.  So I'm going to go with Clem to the next counseling session -- and in the meantime, try to be more forthright with him. I'm scared to death on some levels -- but as he pointed out -- it takes more energy to withhold my truth that it does to deal with the potential reaction.  It's like that country song: "When you're going through hell, just keep on going..."

I was headed down the right path last fall and got off track -- with good reason. But now I need to find the strength within me to get back on my true path. Here's the kicker -- there's a part of me that doesn't want to work on the book -- or even this blog -- because somewhere in my head is this voice that says, "Who do you think you are? You have nothing to offer anyone else? You're just writing self serving dribbles." 

On some level, I understand that it only have to heal me -- that my writing doesn't need to help anyone else, really. But there's also a part of me that has an overwhelming desire to help someone else. The catch is to find balance between helping others -- I need to nourish myself, physically, mentally and spiritually, as much or more than I do everyone else.

 I suck at that!

My instincts are to disconnect -- and like I said in an earlier post -- reconnect with my soul and my roots in the land and animals of this farm.... The catch will be allowing myself the freedom to do that...

Still trying to think of a new name for the blog.... let me know if you have ideas...

How lucky am I?

First of all -- I think I need a new name for the blog. I need to stop referring to myself as "fat." I'm so much more than that -- it's really the least of all the things I am. 

But change the name to what?  That's a mission for you my readers -- help me think of a good name...

Anyway -- back to my life. 

The other day I got so hang out on the farm -- for the first time in a long time -- all I had to do was stuff for me... errands, chores -- it was great!

So I stopped by the dairy office to pick up a couple of things and ended up with a bag full of fresh potatoes: one of the farmers we work with had dropped them off. I got a bucket full of oysters -- since my brother-in-law had just returned from the coast.  Then I tootled off to my barn where I picked up some fresh eggs and grabbed a whole chicken out of the freezer. It's one I'd raised and butchered myself (with the help of some friends).  I came home and put the chicken in the 'fridge to defrost and then cooked up a nice fresh wilted spinach with some shrimp and pasta. Yummy!

The thing is -- it's such a joy to eat fresh whole food. It's even better if it's home grown.

The greatest part  is that I have a great relationship with food now.  I can eat without guilt most of the time and revel in the joy of cooking and then eating great food. 

This country has demonized food -- to the point very few people can truly eat without guilt. What's more, very few people truly understand where their food comes from. Too many consumers seem to think it comes from the grocery store -- and that's where the process stops.

I think the times are changing -- there are some upsides to the economic downturn -- more and more people are taking a closer look at where their food comes from, growing it themselves and buying locally. 

With luck -- people will become better informed. Here's a great example I found the other day.

I am always disappointed to see anything labeled  "made from cows that haven't  had rbst." - First of all bst has been illegal for a while now, so no milk has "rbst" in it. Then there's that nasty little point that it's a naturally occuring hormone anyway... Futhermore, what gets labeled organic is often misleading. How organic is defined varies within the industry and with consumers. Here's my opinion: if something like milk is labeled "organic" -- but is ultra pastuerized and shelf safe -- well that's just not really organic to me... Something organic should be able to sit out for a day or two without spoiling. But -- that's just me.

I found this article the other day in a farm industry magazine. It's by Trent Loos (http://www.loostales.com) I knew this but didn't have the specific numbers.

"It is important to recognize that many common foods naturally contain estrogen (or phyto estrogen in plants) at levels hundreds or thousands of times higher than the levels in dairy or beef products that come from animals given estrogen hormones. In addition, estrogen levels in dairy and beef products from treated animals are essentially the same as products from untreated animals.

4 oz. beef from steer given hormones: 1.6 nanograms of estrogen
4 oz. beef from untreated steer: 1.2 nanograms of estrogen
4 oz. beef from non-pregnant heifer: 1.5 nanograms of estrogen
4 oz. raw cabbage: 2700 ng estrogen
4 oz. raw peas: 454 ng estrogen. 
3 oz. soy oil: 168,000 nanograms of estrogen
3.5 oz. of soy protein concentrate: 102,000 nanograms of estrogen. 
3 oz. of milk from cow given rBST: 11 nanograms of estrogen
3 oz. of milk from untreated (non-BST) cow: 11 nanograms of estrogen

Average level in a woman of childbearing age: 480,000 nanograms/day of estrogen

Average level in a pre-pubertal girl: 54,000 nanograms/day of estrogen

Average soy latte (one cup of soymilk): 30,000 nanograms of estrogen 

Interesting huh?  

Let me know what you think.

My life in an egg shell

Spring is certainly on the way on the farm. The animals are getting frisky.

I have 3 ducks and a goose. Three of the four are males. One poor little gray duck, named Stormy is apparenlty the lone female. I actually thought all 3 of the ducks were females, since I can never find the bird book to explain anything. Anywhooo, I found out the goose was male because I caught him in the "act" last summer. Yikes. There are some things I don't need to know about my birds.

I watched the goings on yesterday morning. One big white duck, named Sunshine, was trying to "get it on" with Stormy. She wasn't in the mood. Not at all.

The little thing would let him get close and just as he was about in position, she'd dodge him. If was incredibly funny. The wierd thing is the goose, Taloose, was hanging out -- as if supervising. He's sort of taken on this whole Big Brother role. He keeps an eye on all the goings-on around the barnyard. 

During the summer, when I let them out each morning. He's the first bird out of the coop and he immediately does the "fly over". He makes a low flying trip down the side walk. Then he patrols the perimeter of the house. If anyone but me comes in the yard, he hisses and chases them away. I think he thinks he's a dog. So I have a goose that thinks he's a dog and a cat that thinks she's a dog, but no actual dog.

Things that make you go "hmmmm."

Just outside the gate I have two roosters. I call them my watch roosters. Both of them were kicked out of the coop and have managed to survive. I call one Henry. He's white with cool black tail feathers. He charged my calf muscle with his talons. This always pisses me off, so I caught him and threw him outside the coop. I figured if he could survive the racoons, coyotes and cats -- then he deserved to live, but I wasn't going to provide him with shelter. The other one a large Buff Orpington-- a large golden bird. The females are great layers. This guy also hit my calves with a set of talons. Butt head. So he too got caught and thrown into the river bed. But I managed to land him in a larger snow drift. I spent nearly two weeks feeling guilty that I'd wasted the bird -- he would have been good in a stew pot or one of my neighbors could have used him because she likes to hatch her own eggs and you need  a rooster for that. 

I felt horrible, I'd wasted the life, food etc.

Then one day I pulled into the driveway and there he was. I'll be damned. So he hangs out with Henry and they watch over the yard. Out in the coop, I gather in a couple dozen eggs each week. The warmer weather has increased egg production somewhat, which is cool because then I usually have an extra dozen to sell if I want. 

I have heat lamps in the coop this time of year. They're plugged into the coop ceiling.Twice this winter, I've walked in to find the lights broken off at the collar. I have no idea what those birds are doing in there, but I hope they're having fun. I'm guessing the roosters get to goin' at it and fly up and break the lights. The two roosters I have in the coop are miniatures -- I can't imagine they have enough body weight to do much -- but they're certainly up to something.

This time of year, as the snow is melting and the frost is coming out of the ground, it's a mucky muddy mess out there. I hate it, but am always thankful for the change of seasons. I'll be glad, though,when I can walk across the driveway without fear of falling on the ice. However, I'm not looking foward to the amount of work that awaits me when the weather clears. After last summer's remodel etc. everything got neglected and it's not like I'm great in the yard anyway. 

But in light of all the recent stress in my life I'm feeling compelled to focus on the yard and chickens. It seems like a return to center -- to my roots. Maybe a little dirt under my nails will fill up the voids I'm always trying to fill with activities outside my home and away from the farm.  Maybe my grandmothers and my mom are trying to guide me back to what is natural and real -- where I can make a difference in my own world without worrying about making a difference in anyone elses. 

Maybe, just maybe, the garden and farm is the place to be silent enough to hear my own voice -- instead of those who don't have my best intentions at heart. 

More than anything, it's a piece of land offering peace of mind. 

If not me, who will save ... me?

For most of my life, I've been told to slow down. That I had too many projects, committees and plans. Too many things, people and places in my life.

Every so often, I've quit everything and vowed to slow down. Take time to smell the proverbial flowers. And without fail, I'd find my way back into the fast lane with even more activities. 

It's just who I am. I've always wished everyone would just leave me alone about it. I want people to just appreciate me for who I am.

I see myself as a leader and community activist. I feel that God has given me this wide range of talents and that I'd be wasting God's gifts if I didn't do all that I can to do good -- to help, to serve...But, I love what I do. I love organizing events, running a meeting, teaching a class. It's not like I do these things just because I can. I do them because I enjoy every minute of it.

However, as predicted by so many people in my life, I'm burning out. Emotionally  -- well, that's been coming and going for years. But now, physically. 

I've been diagnosed with adrenal fatigue syndrome. I've blown out my adrenal glands -- from spending too much time, doing too many things under the extreme stress I have often lived.

I'll get into adrenal fatigue in a future post -- for it's been fascinating.

So, I quit my job to "take better care of myself," to "focus on health issues" -- but as my daughter pointed out this morning. It's opened up free time that I have already begun to fill in with other things. 

I've often said that while other people are addicted to alcohol or drugs, I am addicted to volunteering. There doesn't appear to be a good support group for this.  But I understand addiction and I understand the reality is that I'm trying to feel a void by volunteering for everything -- by trying to save the world one committee at a time.

Could it be that I feel like I don't exist unless my name is on a committee phone list somewhere. Does this mean that somewhere inside me, I think I don't matter unless I'm doing something outside this home and family? That I have no worth unless I'm accomplishing something???

What would happen if I really did check out -- even just for the summer? What would happen if I only created peace and quality in my own home? What would happen if I actually kept a garden alive or followed through on one of the 100s of projects I want to do with my children? What if I actually  unpacked the boxes we moved into the shed 4 years ago? Would would happen if I actually moved all of my stuff out of the old house? What would happen if I actually did stuff with my kids without saying, "hang on, I just have to finish this."?

Would I still exist? Would my friends still call? Would my friends still think I was fun to hang around? Would I be worthy of love, trust and respect?

I hear the voices in my head in their usual debate. My voice saying YES!! but she's drowned out by the others saying things like "Comitment!" "But who will take care of this stuff?" "I can't believe you bailed out on us!" 

I have no idea how to slow down. How to tune out. It just seems completely out of character. But if I'm truly going to return to center, it would seem I have to disconnect at some level. I keep having these visions of my self working out in the yard -- with a garden that actually survives and thrives in my care. I see myself talking long walks and going camping with my children. I have dreams of just going to a meeting to support my children -- and not volunteering for a darn thing.

It sounds like a fantasy -- a really it's possible. But in my world it would be like letting go of the life raft I've been clinging too for survival.  All this time I've keep clinging to it -- just letting the current  carry me down stream. As these words come flowing out it occurs to me that I no longer need the raft. That if I just stand up, the water is shallow. I'm in control -- 

Wow! I'm in control. 

Someone else will have to save the world. I'll save my world first.

A sign of things to come?

I was in downtown Hailey the other day and I saw a robin.

Yep.  A red breasted robin. 

She was hardly visible -- camoflauged in some sort of tree with lots of little red berries. 

Oddly enough, the tree was in front of the Nature Conservancy offices. 

I watched her a while --every so often she'd snatch a frozen berry off the tree. She was lightning quick in her theft...as if she was hoping no one would notice. 

She, like the rest of us was soaking up the sun. Perhaps like me, the sun made her feel feisty and in the mood for a treat -- a reward for a winter survived.

So I quit my job -- for the most part -- I'm done Monday night. I'll be on call until they hire my replacement. I quit because I need to focus on some health issues and let's face it, I suck at grown up jobs. I'm wayyyy too ADD for a straight job. The full time job took a huge toll on my family and my health and cramped my creativity in a big way. I have the luxury of being able to quit without too much of a financial burden and figured since I was so freakin' exhausted all the time, I should take the opportunity to cut my losses and get out.  

I loved the job, but couldn't handle the constant pressure of it all -- waking up in the middle of the night worried about what did or didn't get done...it's just not worth it anymore... 

The most difficult thing is trying to not volunteer for a bunch of other stuff... I just need to sit on my hands... but dang -- there are so many cool things going on -- work that's that needs to be done... I just can't help myself!

More on that later -- 

So here's the deal:

I have been diagnosed with adrendal fatigue syndrome.

You know for years, I've known something was wrong. I have always felt like didn't deserve all the weight I've gained. That I shouldn't be so exhausted, especially in the afternoon.  But all these years I just believed what the doctors told me -- I was fat. And because I was fat, I deserved to be tired, sore and depressed. Inside, I was screaming. There has to be more to it! I'm not sedentary, I don't eat that much -- especially since I stopped bingeing. 

In the last year or so, several people have suggested I have bariactric surgery. Every time it was mentioned, I couldn't help but break into tears. I just knew at a cellualar level there had to be another option.

And let me say that it has stopped being about the weight on most levels. It's about feeling human. There is still a part of me that get's hung up on the numbers, but 75% of the time, sometimes event 90 % of the time, I don't care that much. 

I'm not a sideline mom. I'm not the mom that watches while the rest of the family skis or swims or hikes. But especially in the last year, I haven't had a choice. I've been in pain constantly and so tired I couldn't do anything.

It doesn't seem to matter if I work out like a mad woman and eat nuts and berries -- or sit on my ass and do absolutely nothing -- I only feel a little better. If I feel great it doesn't last. I finally started doing some research and had figured I had a thyroid problem. (see http://www.stopthethyroidmadness.com)  I have been on thyroid medicine for months -- I felt great the first 6 weeks then nothing. 

Finally about a month ago -- so exhausted all I could do was cry -- I went to see a doctor a friend recommended... one last chance.  This guy Dr. Tom Archie (http://www.drtomsalchemy.com)practices integrated medicine and tested my adrenal glands. 

Sure enough: flatlined. 

So I'm on all sorts of herbs, a pharmaceutical or two and accupuncture once a week. 

He warned me it would be slow progress. But I do know I don't feel like I've been drugged every afternoon. I sleep almost every night -- for 6 or  7 hours which is great for me!

Progress -- I think so.

Like the robin is a sign of renewal -- of spring's new growth -- maybe it's a sign or  renewal for me.

No -- there's no maybe... I know it is!

Back by popular demand

I'm back. Again.

Every time I stop writing, someone or something compells me back. My friend Nancy always says when you get off God's path for you, He'll bring right back around to where you're supposed to be -- and that's been proven to me time and time again in recent months.

I've been thinking a great deal about this lately. Figured I might as well share these thoughts with you.

More and more these days it seems I'm supposed to write. Not just for a living or hobby, but because it's my mission. 

In the last few weeks, three different people have said "Voice for the Voiceless." -- Heavy.

But in fact, maybe it's true. 

It's an art and calling, a passion and mission and job and obligation. It is, it seems, what I do. 

If you look at the things I've gone through in my life -- from eating disorders to hormone problems to life and loss and love -- these are stores everyone goes through -- but often think they're going through alone. 

In this day and age, there's simply no reason to go through anything all alone -- we're much too connected. 

Lately, the writing is just of several activities in my life that I keep getting drawn to -- writing, returning to center -- to what is real -- While I love texting and e-mail and am a Facebook addict, it is not always real -- that sort of thing that you feel in your soul. Writing, when it is at is best can make miracles happen -- can plant a seed in your soul that grows into something remarkable and inspiring.

I look around me and I see overwhelming poverty -- poverty in all its forms; financial, time, love, hope... there are stories there to tell -- of the people living in poverty that merely need a voice to reach out of their worlds and into sustainability.

I see  the greed and disrespect (of which I'm guilty) that has driven us to the economic situation we are in -- and see people that have moved too far away from center  -- away from what is real -- there is no fear in what is real -- we eat processed food in our cars while driving down the road to another obligation away from home -- away from our hearts and souls -- and then wonder why we're sick and bloated and depressed. We are two generations away from people who understand where their food comes from  -- two generations from being to fix our own cars -- from being able to take care of ourselves... there is a story here -- somewhere...

I see people like me who have become so busy and therefore so exhausted that we rely on others to tell us whats wrong -- instead of taking control of our own health care, our own destinies, our own thoughts.... again -- there's a story here.

Perhaps I'm living in some egotistical world -- maybe I think I'm cooler than I really am -- but maybe, just maybe I'm finally hearing what the Universe and God have been trying to tell me for years and years -- that its my voice that needs to be heard -- somewhere and some time... 

Show Me Missouri

I'm sitting in a hotel room in Springfield, Missouri. It's flat here. 

My question is how do you know which way you're going when there are no mountains to guide you.

Hmmmm.

I'm here for a friend's graduation from basic training. I'm traveling with his mother, Judy. They're my neighbors. 

I've decided after a day of ready Janet Evanovich that I need to write the western version of Stephanie Plum. Stephanie is of course Janet's bounty hunter heroine. I love this character because she's comfortable in her own skin. She makes no apologies for who she is -- and she's always in the middle of a disaster.

I haven't come up with a good name for my Stephanie yet. Stephanie lives in a suburb of Trenton, NJ. In Idaho terms, she is from Lewiston. 

Maybe I can create a western persona for her. Have to think about that...... hmmmm

So, not only do I get to see the neighbor kid graduate, I get to hang out with my friend Will. Will and I got hired at the Times News at the same time. At the time, our supervisors kept saying things like, "You two will either hate each other or be best friends, because you're just alike." 

I was a little nervous to meet him. When I first met him, he was pretty scruffy after having spent two days in a car with his two dogs. 

But sure enough, we are good friends -- and yes, we are a lot alike. He's the editor of a weekly newspaper in Sullivan, Missouri. He runs on adrenalin. He's always in movement. He's funny and kind. I enjoy chatting with him.

Well, damn. I've been looking forward to writing all day. Now I'm sitting here with the laptop on my legs and I can't remember anything I was going to say. The real tragedy here is that in my head waiting for the plane to land, I was very witty. Iwas crackin' myself up.

Those words apparently got lost in the middle of the gigantic Bass Pro shop mall a block away from the hotel.

I'm trying to not pick up Stephanie Plum number 9 as I have a book club book: The Book Thief  to read before the next meeting....

I'll give you a full update tomorrow...

Oh my -- a job

Holy cow. 

Oh, my, gawd.

I got a job. A grown up 9-5 sort of job -- ok -- not really, but as close as I've had in a very long time.

I'm now the 4H cooridinator for Lincoln County. It's a job that has my name written all over it. Youth and community development -- leadership development -- working with volunteers. 

Essentially it's stuff I do for free all the time, but I actually get paid.

I'm scared to death.

Why am I here? I applied so I would have financial independence. But right now while things are stable it seems weird. I have so many things to do at home, but it was such a perfect job I couldn't resist. I interviewed and I got the job.

Heavy sigh.

It's overwhelming. The former coordinator was a friend and she did great things in the position that I'll be able to build on -- but her idea of office organization and mine appear to be a little different. I have to be in training quite a bit in the next week or so -- leaving my children for several days on end between scheduled trips and these new business trips. That makes me nervous.

But strangely -- even though I'm a little overwhelmed -- I'm pretty calm for the moment. 

This is a job I can do well and in which I can make a difference. I seem to function a little better with more structure in my world -- and I'm already always tired so that won't make a big difference...

If God gives you what you need when you need it -- it seems sensible to follow this through. 

More later --

I was tagged the other day by my friend Sally at http://www.sallyacious.com. 

How very nice. Sally always has this amazing ability to contact me when I need to hear -- or in this case, read -- her voice. I've been thinking lately that I needed to do more blogging. I actually think about that all the time. After about a month or so of feeling invincible I thought I ran into a wall the other day. My doctor pointed out to me today that it was really more of a mud puddle. 

Somehow I fell back into my old routine -- being too tired and overwhelmed to take care of the things and people -- namely me -- who really need my attention. Now, I know -- because I've tried this a number of different ways -- that when I take care of myself first -- when I do things that bring me joy FIRST -- that everything else really falls into place. As usual, I can pinpoint the moment I stepped into the mud puddle -- I did something I didn't really want to do, but felt obligated to do. So instead of setting realistic boundaries, I jumped head first into this puddle of slime and now I'm feeling sorry for myself.

Well! Enough of that. Back to being me without apology.

So here's how this game works:

The rules of the game are:

1) Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog
2) Share 7 facts about yourself, some random, some weird
3) Tag 7 more people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs
4) Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blogs

SEVEN Facts About Me

1)  In real life, I'm a night owl. This whole being an adult parent really cramps my style. I should be in bed right now, but I feel great sitting here in the dark, listening to my husband snore and playing here and on facebook. It will truly suck at 6 when I have to be responsible. Someday, I'll work on my schedule. My husband things it's all a matter of training. I think he's wrong. By nature, I like this time of day better. 

2)So last month, I told my husband to essentially either get help or get out. I didn't use those words exactly, but that was the message. His violent rage thing was sooooo very old. I, after all these years, was ready to leave. But here's what happened. The man actually took responsibility, admitted he had a problem and got help. Well hell. Now I'm not sure what to do. I spent all that time being mad and hurt and finally made up my mind -- and now he's well, like, nice to be around. Actually helps me. Doesn't yell. It's the damnedest thing -- and I'm a little disappointed....

3)I love hands. Hands are the cools parts of the human body. I love looking at other people's hands. I love studying hands attached to Idaho women -- they're unlike anyone else's hands I think. I love art that involves hands and have purchased a bunch of student art -- just because there were hands in the picture. Someday, I'm going to write a book about hands and the people attached to the coolest ones...

4)Someday I'm going to talk about my book on Oprah. No really. I can feel it. Maybe I'll be the next Oprah. 

Karma. That sounds good, eh?

5)I think in my past lives I was a 1) star or celebrity of some sort and b) a pioneer farm woman

6)I think that I'm willing to buy into the whole 2012 thing -- but it's not the end of the world -- it's a change in consciousness. My acupuncturists says I'll be on the forefront of that. I believe him. He's a Shakespearean actor named Bard who looks like Chris Isaak and Lyle Lovett ... how can he be wrong?

7)I am becoming a food Nazi. We have demonized food. This must stop.

So -- I don't actually follow 7 blogs. I might have to post a few of them later.

1) www.sallyacious.com -- Because Sally is just fun to hang out with.

2)www.mimimimi-word.livejournal.com

3)Ok -- I'll have to finish this later ... those are the two I pay attention to the most... I have to find links to the others I check out less frequently...

This has actually been rather fun.....

It's done. Now what?

Those of you who check my facebook page alreayd know I finally finished the first draft of my book: Fat and Then: A Journey to Self Acceptance. 

It felt great to wrap it up -- It will go through several versions before it's done. It was an incredible catharsis. Everyone who has read it so far has liked it -- so that made me feel good.

I'm tired today -- my knee is starting to hurt again. Damn. I think I'll go ahead and get another cortizone shot -- after everything I've been through with the knee and my health -- I guess it won't hurt to do it one more time....

I'm trying to come up with a way to check my progress without checking the scale. After everything that's been said and done it's still really easy to fall into the old numbers game. I'm down ten pounds since we got the thyroid problem diagnosed. I'm starting to get compliments on my figure again...but it's essential to focus on the inner changes instead of the external.

I'm thinking there could be some sort of check list -- similar to the one I used when I was learning to eat when I'm hungry and stop when I'm full. 

Instead of getting on the scale -- I could -- I don't know take some sort of inventory... how I felt, how much sleep.... whatever.... any ideas?

What a difference a day makes

And a little bit of sleep.
After last night's purge of my latest drama, I must say I feel tremendously better.
I got up and went to jazzercise -- which I love. Then I came home and flopped on the couch and watched a Ginger Rogers/Fred Astaire movie and cat napped. Then I puttered around the house and talked to my god daughter on the phone for an hour and did laundry and cleaned the girls' wing.
Then I went to dinner with my friend Marcella in Hailey. I just needed to dress up like a girl and have a night out. We had a nice meal at the Sun Valley Brewery and then went to this new place which probably would have been great as there was live music -- and I love that -- but the wait staff was wearing flip flops. This is a trend that just grosses me out -- so we didn't stick around long.
So we went to the Silver Dollar Bar in Bellevue -- I was sort of dreading this because I'm just not a bar-goer anymore. So we bellied up to the bar -- and Marcella proceeded to figure out how to steal a plastic monkey. In the process this guy came up and started talking to us.
You know what? He flirted with me.
No one ever flirts with me, they always flirt with my cute friends. I didn't even realize it at first, but Marcella pointed it out to me. Anyway we danced and played pool with this guy and another guy at the bar and it was great fun.
This guy ended up walking me to my pick up and he told me I was beautiful and that he wanted to make out with me. A million years ago when I weighed a lot less and was a whole lot more available, this kind of thing NEVER happened to me.
I, of course said, I'm sorry, but .... and he was entirely a gentleman. OMG -- this kind of thing never happens to me. It was so nice -- so very nice.
I know he was drunk and won't remember a thing come Monday morning, but the whole thing made my day -- my week -- my year, really.
The Universe continues to confuse and delight me -- and in spite of everything I truly feel like I'm on the right path -- and wow, what a ride....!!!

How I spent my summer vacation

Warning: The following contains a great deal of whining.
So let's recap: All of this has happended since May 1.
Since the last solstice, I have been diagnosed with plantar facitus (sp?fallen arches/bone spurs). This made it painful to walk, to do Jazzercise or circuit training -- all of which I love. I have been in the middle of a nightmare of a remodel, in which I gave the opportunity to a friend I figured I could trust. While I can trust him as a friend, the project has been filled with mistakes and hassles. One stress after another.
I healed up from the foot problem only to have my knee start hurting within 24 hours. Could it be a sprain? Bruise? Don't know, but it hurts so bad I can't get a damn thing done. Yard work, gardening, playing with my kids -- all of it painful. Great.
Then, I start feeling weird. Start shivering. End up in the emergency room, thinking I had pneumonia (Again)only to find out I just had some mystery infection that no one could freakin' explain.
I started feeling better and went about my usual routines only to find I am able to express alien green goo out of my left breast. That's fabulous, eh?
Later than same day, I went to a doctor about my knee pain. I have arthritis. It's going to hurt. Maybe I should swim more. Or bike more. But it's just always going to hurt. Great. Just great.
Next I got to spend ten days on vacation. If, that is, you call spending ten days in a double wide trailer with 17 other people, mostly teenage boys, vacation.
So I come home with about ten days to get my kids ready for school in the middle of the chaos of the remodel -- which at this point is just under a week behind, because "someone" forgot to call for the inspection, so the dry wallers couldn't come in, which meant the painter couldn't come in, which meant the floor people couldn't get in, which meant my children would start school living out of boxes and sleeping on couches. Stupidly irritating, but liveable. In the meantime, my husband is grouchy because he can't handle the chaos of the construction.
I go to the doctor, where I fall apart because I'm just a tiny bit stressed out. She comforts and medicates me and then drops this bomb shell:
"You have every sign of being an abused woman."
OK. So I think: "Yes, I know that. People have been telling me that for years. My husband is verbally abusive. I don't, obviously, know what to do about it. But when your doctor says it, that's a whole 'nother level of reality."
I then go to the hospital to get a mammogram. (The hospital is an hour away, so a simple trip is really an ordeal). I wait patiently only to find out they won't take me because the hospital where I got my last mammogram send my x-rays to the wrong hospital. While waiting for nothing, my perpetually painful right leg developed a charley horse which lasted 3 days. (But remember, there's nothing I can do about it, except for lose weight -- duh -- they say that as if I didn't a) know that, b) wasn't trying to do anything about it and c) like the pain is my own fault for my stupidity and lack of personal control. )I leave a message for the doctor -- no one calls me back for two days (four counting the weekend) Only to tell me I have all the signs of the a blood clot. That makes for peaceful sleeping. The muscle cramp goes away.
The green ooze turns out to be nothing serious. A bright spot in a depressing series of events.
I meet my funky acupuncturist. Another cool deal, but while he's helped eliminate most of the pain -- I still hurt. A lot.
So I go to another doctor. He is clearly convinced that I'm a fat stupid woman. He does however inform me after looking at an MRI, than not only do I have a mean case of arthritis, my knee cap is out of alignment and I have a tear in my meniscus. Great.
He, out of the kindness of his heart he tells me, does remove 52 ccs of fluid off my knee and gives me a steroid. (But it won't last he reminds me)Oh! there is a brace that would help, but, of course, my legs are too big to wear it.
As the summer progresses -- Clem continues to be cranky and yes, verbally abusive to the children and me. I talk to friends. I talk to a new counselor.
You know -- I really do try to do all the right things.
I watch my children demonstrate all the signs of living in a verbally abusive home.
So yesterday I tell my husband he needs to move out. He needs to give me a break. He is sick. He has problems and needs to get help.
He admits he has a problem. Agrees to go to counseling. But he refuseds to leave.
So I pick up my kids after school Wednesday and I drive away from the house I love and every material possession I own except a change of clothes and my pickup. I explain to my children what's happening. My two little ones handle it really well. My son is practically giddy. My oldest daughter falls apart. Kicking and sobbing.
We talk. We decide we'll go see my family in Buhl. We'll probably stay in a hotel. Everything will be ok.
My daughter calls her dad, crying. She wants to go home. I talk to him. I tell him I'm not coming home because I'm not going to get yelled at any more. More importantly, my children will not get screamed at anymore.
I'm crazy.
I exaggerate.
I always run away from my problems. Married people fight. This is just a bump. Everything is always about me. I never want to change, I always expect him to change. If I want to leave, I should leave the kids at home and go.
Are you kidding me? 12 years of getting yelled at, left out, humiliated, over looked and verbally bashed. Yep, you're right, I am a bitch.
So I go have a lovely dinner with my sister. My kids decide they want to sleep in Shoshone on the farm but at their aunt and uncles house.
Ok.
We sleep late. I take the kids to school. I have to go back into town to get my oldest because she can't stop crying.
I find out from the counselor that my husband has made a commitment to weekly sessions and further mental health testing. He is contrite. He admits there is a problem, but the counselor warns me my husband's health problems are complicating things and that it will take a while to get a full assessment of where he really is.
I figure that's progress. Maybe I'll just move into another house on the farm. My husband suggests we just sleep in separate rooms. I have one child who wants to leave, one child who wants to stay and one child that could go either way. Upon pressing them, they don't want to stay in the other house because there's no tv. Great.
So I contemplate my situation. He's admitted he has a problem -- huge deal. My kids have been in their brand new bedrooms for one entire week. That's it. I'm exhausted. I'm whatever it is beyond exhausted. I can't think. There is food here. Beds made. I can stay in the extra room for a few days until the final two pieces of carpet come in and then I can fix up the guest room and Clem can stay in there and I will stay in the Master Bedroom and that will be the safety zone for the kids and I. If he starts to yell the kids can stay in there until I can get them out of the house and moved elsewhere.
I've applied for a couple of jobs. I have my name on a waiting list for a rental in town. I think I've been planning and thinking about this for years but my children and husband have been brought into this reality for 24 hours. Take time. Get help. Be prepared. I will be ok.
So I just start to relax. I will point out, however, that my husband starts to watch tv in MY living room. We have gone through this hellish remodel to build him, among other things, a giant DEN -- with surround sound and a big screen and a huge reclining sofa thing and he won't go in there because it's too big and not comfortable for him yet.
Are you kidding?
I sit down in the big "his"comfy couch in the DEN and I watch tv and it's quiet and I'm just about ready to go to sleep and I decide I should check in with my sister who reminds me that I should have left completely and I'm just going back in the snake pit.
So I have failed. Again?
I've had it. I'm doing everything I know how to do. I've jumped through one hoop after another.
When I couldn't lose weight I admitted that I had a compulsive eating disorder and I worked through hours upon hours of therapy to overcome it and I did. And just as I'm starting to get a handle on things my body starts falling apart on me, but I don't give up and every single freaking time I fix one problem another one crops up.
I planned and talked to doctors and counselors to make sure I am indeed being verbally abused and I pray and pray and pray that I'm doing the right things for my children and I really just thought that a good night's sleep in my house that I love might do me some good and then I talk to my sister and as much as I keep reminding myself that I'm in control of my own destiny and I have to do what is right and that no one else matters, all I can hear is that voice in my head telling me I have to get out and then the other part of me shouting that I just need to follow my instincts and take this process one moment at a time and between the two freaking voices I can't freakin' sleep.
I just want to crawl into a hole and sleep and while I'm in there I want the stupid divorce attorney to return my calls because she's in Hailey which is just under an hour away instead of having to call the divorce attorney in Boise which is two hours a way. Then, I want my husband to get a kick in the head and move out before I have to file for divorce to force him to get out. Also while I'm asleep I want this construction to get done -- correctly -- so I can come home to my own house and not hear the sounds of hammers or backhoes or anything else.
I truly don't think that's too much to ask, considering the circumstances.
And, furthermore, I know what you're thinking. Yes Karma you have to get out and then maybe you can take a vacation. I have thought about that, but exactly whom would I leave my children with? Their dad? And if I want to leave I need money so I can't really justify spending money on a vacation, now can I.
So instead I'm going to write because it's what I do and then even though I probably shouldn't I'm going to publish this and then my friends and readers will either think I'm crazy or that they're tired of listening to me whine or they'll be worried about me and try to call and I'll probably be asleep for the first time in months when they call and I'll be so touched when someone calls and it will be a great deal to me and then I'll still be exhausted.
I just really want to know it's all worth it. That all of this has some great divine motivation and I'm getting a big fucking reward -- and I'm really not so self absorbed I'm alienating my friends and family and screwing up my children.
The only thing I do know that when the solstice comes in a few days I'm going to celebrate the end of this wretched summer and pray that autumn, my most favorite season, will bring great renewal.
I think I deserve it, damn it.