Always in Pain

At one of my recent chiropractor visits I found myself telling the doctor that I am always in pain. While that is true enough - and irritating enough - on a physical level, I've begun to wonder if that is also true on a psychological level as well.

I had a couple of conversations this week that brought this to mind. 

The first conversation was with a co-worker who also lives in my neighborhood. I don't see him very often so we were discussing this and that, and thinking about it afterwards it began to dawn on me that everything I said was negative. 

"Did you hear about the neighbor who was arrested during that big drug bust?"

"Let me tell you about this horrible woman I heard yelling at kids at the pool last week."

"Don't you hate it when people let their yards go? Those weeds make the whole neighborhood look bad."

Why didn't I talk about how peaceful it is on my patio? Where were the words about the cardinals and the hummingbirds? Why didn't I think to bring up how nice the new playground equipment is?

The second conversation was with a friend who is also reading the book I've mentioned here a couple of times, Made to Crave. For 45 minutes I whined about how hard it is, how much I'm struggling, and what isn't going right. She also asked about my husband's new business, and all I could do was complain about not having a steady paycheck and not liking him being gone so many nights.

Just as easily I could have talked about the better food choices I am making. I could have said that there have been times when I have been balanced, when I haven't turned to food but turned to God instead. Certainly I am grateful for any amount of success in my husband's business and for the good reviews he is getting. I could have been more optimistic about the business' future, or more appreciative of the hard work he is putting in for our family.

Ask me how I am, and I will usually say fine. Listen to me talk and mostly what you'll hear is what is going wrong.

Am I truly always in pain?

Recognizing this is one thing. Changing it is something entirely different.

The Voice of Truth

Out of all the voices calling out to me

I will choose to listen and believe

the voice of truth 

~ written by John Mark Hall

sung by Casting Crowns

 

This week I had a wake up call. A long time friend decided she needed to take a few steps back from our friendship - be friends from afar - because she can no longer tolerate the denial she sees in me. She doesn't want to point it out, doesn't believe it is her place to point it out, but at this point needs to be a friend who loves me from afar.

On the one hand, maybe I am in so much denial that I simply can't see it. Despite all of the introspection and work that I do on myself maybe I am just spinning my wheels from one thing to another in order not to focus on the thing - whatever that is - about which I am in denial. It is certainly not the first time I have heard this theory. My trainer also believes I am hiding from something. 

Are these two both the voice of truth?

On the other hand, I have worked so hard on myself for so long that maybe the wake up call is really that I need to get over myself. The idea that I am someone that someone else has to stay away from is ridiculous. Absurd. And yet I treat myself that way, don't I? I treat myself as if I am a mass of broken parts that need to be fixed, that at the same time are too broken to ever be fixed. Possibly I have been loving myself from afar for a long time and it is time to stop the madness that is Project Ginny. Maybe there is no deeply buried anything that needs to be faced.

Is this the voice of truth?

Surely you see my dilemma.  This reminds me of one of my favorite episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  After being poisoned by a demon Buffy comes to believe that she has been in a mental institution, and that her life as a slayer has all been a hallucination. She sees her parents still happily married, not divorced, and she begins to prefer this new non-slayer life. Buffy keeps falling back into her slayer "hallucination", and eventually decides that the slayer life is her true life. It was heartbreaking watching her say goodbye to her dream mother, but she had to decide which road to take, which life to live.

And so, which road do I take? Do I take the one that tells me that I am in denial, hiding from something that has been plaguing me, pursuing me, for most of my life? Or do I take the one that says I am fine? Which is the voice of truth?

Maybe what I'm in denial about is that I am fine, and that I always have been and always will be. That seems the easy road, doesn't it? But is that me choosing to stay in the happy parents-are-still-married-and-demons-are-not-real world?

When am I awake and when am I asleep?

I woke up in the middle of the night last week with a single clear thought in my head.

"I need to let go of the things in my life that are holding me back in order to make room for the things that God wants to put there."

There was no background chatter, no sensation of waking up and remembering. It was simply coming to a complete and sudden wakefulness with this sentence in my mind, over and over, as if asleep me wanted to make sure awake me knew it was important. Above all thoughts of addictions to food or alcohol, more than any ideas about shortcomings or weaknesses, I have lived my life holding on to the belief that I am too broken to be fixed.

The voice of truth tells me this is a lie. 

All of the other voices, the ones in my head and the ones from my friends, are lying to me. There is a strong pull to believe them instead, but that road has led me no where. No, that's not entirely true. That road has led me here, right here, to where I am, believing that I must no longer love myself from afar.

ready to be done

I am more than ready for this to be over. 

I am not dying for a drink nor am I tempted to drink. I just want to be done with this because it is like this "thing" hanging over my head.

It's a burden. It's annoying. 

It is a simple decision that I made seven months ago that once was interesting but now is boring.

I haven't learned anything except that I can say no to alcohol.

And truth be told, I'm a little irritated that I am not going to give this up.

Why is that? Why can't I just say "I don't want to do this anymore"?

Am I afraid of what it might say about me? Am I worried that I will end up regretting that first drink because I didn't stick this out to the end?

What is that all about? 

I used to think that it was a good thing to stick with my commitments. But when commitments no longer make sense is it still a good thing?

I know I can walk right in to the kitchen, open the refrigerator, and pour myself a glass of wine. No one - except my daughter - will be disappointed. That's not a guess; she told me so just now when I asked her. My husband would probably be immensely relieved and completely supportive. Others may or may not congratulate me for making it this far. Most others won't care one way or the other.

Maybe my irritation is about having to wait. I wonder when was the last time that I had to wait so long for something. 

And it's not like there is going to be any big payoff at the end of this either.

I'm not counting days until a big vacation.

I'm not awaiting the arrival of a baby.

I'm not looking forward to retirement or the start of a new job or a visit from a good friend.

All I'm doing is passing time waiting until I can have a glass of wine again. What a waste of the passage of time.

There are 148 days until the end of this project. What else can I do in 148 days? Maybe if I have something tangible to show for this I can make it through the next five months without making myself crazy.

And there it is. The thing that has been lurking around the edges of my mind for awhile now.

What would it be like to read the Bible?

After doing some careful research with chapters and verses and numbers of each, I have decided that a reasonable goal is to read the 150 chapters of Psalms during these last five months of my YONA.  I was going to go for the entire New Testament, but the numbers weren't coming out as neatly as they do with Psalms. I'll start out reading the first three today, and then do one a day for the next 147 days.

Well. So now there's that.

A Difficult Week

On the plus side, I didn't turn to alcohol when everything crashed down on me this week. And by everything I mean the weight of the words that run through my head when I am believing the voices that don't come from God.

How do I know these words didn't come from God? To begin with, I wasn't in the hot tub. If you're new to my blog you can read about my God in The Hot Tub conversations here, here, and here. Also, they were soul sucking words, words of discouragement and defeat, words of failure and fault. God doesn't speak that way. 

I know that.

But sometimes I don't believe that.

In the midst of the lies I believe that I am broken in such a way that I will never "get it", whatever the "it" is that makes grilled chicken and brown rice equal weight loss. I have been on a diet of basically that - lean protein and either brown rice or a sweet potato, or a protein shake and oatmeal - for six weeks. In the first week I lost 4 pounds. Since then I have bounced up and down the same two pounds over and over again. Admittedly, I have added some things on occasion, but those things account for less than 10% of my overall intake, and most of them have been what are generally considered healthy choices - mostly fruit, some bread, but yes, three or four non-alcoholic beers as well. And there was that serving of homemade rhubarb crumble with vanilla ice cream that I do not regret in the least.

My trainer has a chart on the wall of his studio that shows how many pounds his clients have lost since he opened in March of 2013. I looked at it yesterday and it was almost up to 1000 lbs. One thousand pounds, and not a single one of them is mine. I weigh now what I weighed when I first walked into his studio fifteen months ago. I lost some, then I gained some, then I settled right back where I started.

What is wrong with me? This is the main lie that has been running through my head this week, that there is something wrong with me because I haven't found the tools that will help me get healthy.

I'm also in pain again. The workouts with my trainer have taken their toll and my hip/leg/feet are just about back where they were when I quit the workouts before.

If you were telling me all this, I would say without a doubt that this trainer is not the trainer for you. 

And so I am quitting the workouts with him again. I'm off the Extreme Fat Loss food plan too. Maybe my body doesn't like protein shakes. Maybe it is resisting the lack of vegetables in the summer while they are so abundant. It's for sure my body does not like the workouts that I love so much. 

Nice to see you again Square One.

Halfway Point

A week and a day late with this post, but I passed the halfway point on June 6.

Not drinking is easier than I thought it would be. The anticipation of not drinking at events usually turns out to be worse than the experience of it. It's not such a big deal not to drink; I don't feel weird, and I haven't had but a few moments of feeling left out. 

There is still, however, a longing. A regret, almost, that I made this deal with myself. I am aware of how easily I could change my mind and have a drink. There is  nothing but myself keeping me from doing that. There is nothing but this "what would it be like to?" hanging over my head. I wonder, at times, what this is really all about.

Part of it, I think, is testing to see if I can trust myself to keep a promise to myself. I've been slippery in the past, making and then breaking dozens of promises to be healthier, eat better, drink less, sleep more. 

Six months is more than enough time to realize that I am not going to break this promise this time. Why oh why did I have to go with a whole year? Certainly six months of no drinking is a long enough time. The Half Year of No Alcohol (HYONA?) doesn't have quite the ring to it, but it would have served its purpose.

That's assuming I know what the purpose of this year is. 

Which I don't.

While it is true that I have a closer relationship to God now than I did six months ago, I can't see a solid connection between that and not drinking. It's not like I've prayed to God to help me not drink. It's also not like I've been severely tempted to drink and have turned to God instead.

Maybe it is as simple as this experiment of not drinking has merely been  a means of allowing a relationship to develop between me and God. All throughout the day I find myself turning to him more and more, and I don't know that if I hadn't taken alcohol out of the equation I would have even thought to do that. It is possible that if I had given up anything else - magazines, Spider Solitaire, that blasted 2048 game - and told myself that I would turn to God instead I would have ended up right where I am now. Maybe it was just the choice to make God a part of my life, and the thing that I gave up was meaningless.

I guess I'll never know.

But here I am, halfway through a Year of No Alcohol, wondering what the next six months will bring.

The Habit of Sadness

At work the other day there were donuts in the morning and cake in the afternoon. Old me on a diet would have used the excuse that these were for a celebration - two retirements - and therefore I was allowed to have some. More recent me may have resisted both the donuts and the cake, but it would have been a struggle and I would have been angry. Today's me didn't think twice about having either the donuts or the cake, but today's me was sad.

I couldn't finish the sentence "I feel sad because ..." but I recognized the feeling of sadness. Every thought that I tried to associate with the feeling didn't ring true. I didn't think I was being left out. I didn't think the donuts or cake would have tasted amazing. I didn't think that I would never again have the opportunity to have baked goods.

Undoubtedly I felt sad when I thought about the donuts and cake, but as I worked it over in my mind I slowly came to realize that feeling sad was merely a habit that I had developed.

Event X = Feeling Y

So now what? Good to know, certainly. Should I purposely conjure up the opposite feeling? I could make up new thoughts about how I am honoring myself and choosing good foods for my body, but that feels, at this moment, like so much blah blah blah.

I'm in a funk.

Even though I started this post days ago the funk has stayed with me. I've had a few moments out of it, but I am on a downhill slide. Or maybe I'm looking wistfully back at the mountain of weight behind me and wishing it were still about climbing that darn thing."Time to head north" sounded great, what was it? More than two weeks ago? I'm wandering aimlessly now, no longer hearing the voice of God. Is it time to hit the hot tub again?

More questions than answers. 

Here's how I picture myself. Head down, I'm watching one foot go in front of the other. I stop periodically to open a can of tuna fish and eat it without feeling - no joy or gratitude or awareness of making a "good" choice. I've had more than a couple difficult days where I feel hungry most of the time, and I am currently both hungry and nauseous. In the back of my mind I'm wondering if I'm nauseous because I'm hungry. This doesn't feel right.

This still feels like ignoring my body's hunger signals. It's not right when I ignore them and eat when I'm not hungry, and it isn't right when I ignore them and don't eat when I am hungry.

I've been here and I've done this before. I need to make different decisions but I don't trust myself to know what the right decisions are. 

Or is that just another habit? Not a habit of sadness but a habit of not trusting myself?

I exhaust myself.

In two days it will be the six month mark of my Year of No Alcohol. I miss it. It feels I am depriving myself for no good reason. The results I am seeing are not ones that I would have chosen. Nothing is clearer; I haven't made any huge leaps in my health or my weight. 

Hard, hard, hard. And yet ...

Onward. Ever onward.

A Can of Tuna Fish

This would have been an entirely different post if I had written it yesterday.

Yesterday I was full of hope, riding high on a little bit of weight loss, and a sense of a new beginning. Today, even though I spent the first part of the day in celebration with a group of women at church, today all I feel is hungry. I've been hungry all week.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

About eight days ago I met with my trainer Marcus and agreed to a six week, three time a week workout schedule with him. I also agreed to utilize some nutrition software that he had. The software had a number of different meal plans you could choose, so I thought I would see what some of them were all about before signing up for one. The first one I investigated was "Extreme Fat Loss" - bingo! That sounded perfect. I looked at the meals - basically it was a lean protein and either rice or potato for most meals, with protein shakes as snacks. No way, I thought. I hate protein shakes. Next!

Except there was no next. There was a glitch in the program that kept me from returning to the home screen and selecting another plan. I texted Marcus who told me to just give that one a try.

That's part one.

Part two is the book that I mentioned a few weeks back, Made to Crave. After reading it I felt ready to explore another option, another way of dealing with food. So against all of the voices in my head screaming "NOOOO!" I said "I can do that" and agreed to the food plan for six weeks.

The thing is, I've listened to those screaming voices for all of my life and what have they gotten me? They've gotten me into this struggle, into this fight I have with knowing what to eat and eating what I want. I have relied on my own "power" to force myself to eat things I don't like and to give up things I do like and have hated it almost every step of the way. 

This time - and this is why I haven't written in weeks, because I am afraid of making this next statement - this time I am approaching compliance to the food plan as obedience to God.

I have not been tempted, not once, to eat anything off of the plan. It has not been a struggle, there has been no back and forth in my head about "I want this. I can't have this. It's not fair I can't have this. One bite won't matter. I'm too fat to eat this. If I were a skinny woman I could eat this." There has been no chatter, no voices crying out.

There has, however, been a lot of hunger.

A couple of years ago I asked a woman trainer I know what she eats for a snack and she told me that sometimes she eats a can of plain tuna fish. Later on that day I ranted to a friend of mine that I would never, EVER, eat a can of tuna fish for a snack.

Today I ate a can of plain tuna fish with gratitude.

I was hungry. I've been hungry all week and today it came crashing down on me. I am weak and I am angry that I am hungry. I want to sleep so that I can more quickly pass the hours between when I am allowed to eat again. I am still not tempted to eat something other than what is on the plan. I made deviled eggs and potato salad (with bacon!) and crab cakes to take to my father, and I was not tempted to eat any of it. I am committed to obedience to God but that doesn't make me any less hungry.

Lisa TerKeurst, the author of Made to Crave, quoted a passage in the bible that I have thought of often this week.

You have circled this mountain long enough. Now turn north.
Deuteronomy 2:3 (NAS)

I have thought about my weight loss struggle as a climb up a mountain. Sometimes I ascend, other times I slide back down. During the times when I have been at the top of the scale and the bottom of the mountain I have imagined gazing up at it, wondering "Can I do this again?"

This is not about my weight or my food or alcohol. I have circled that mountain long enough. 

It is time to turn north.

I'll be bringing my cans of tuna fish with me.