My Body and Physical Health

I woke up from a short nap a little while ago.  I'd been reading, and started to drift, and rather than fighting that feeling, decided to go with it today, within limits.  I slept for about an hour, not super deeply, but it was lovely.

When I woke up, I was feeling a little foggy and lethargic (that's what napping often does to me), so I decided I'd finish off my planned exercise for the day by doing one six minute circuit from Jillian Michael's Banish Fat Boost Metabolism DVD.  That's done and now I'm sitting down to write.

Wait!  Before I lose you (because a blog post where the first two paragraphs read like that would probably lose me), let me explain.  I've spent the last week and a half thinking, reading, researching, pondering and praying about the idea of health. I've read voices that range from an auyervedic yogi to Dr. Oz.  From diet books to women's health.  I even did a two-day cleanse last week with the unfortunate name of "Look Better Naked Two-Day Cleanse".  (Full confession - I totally picked this cleanse because it was the easiest one I came across, where I didn't have to eat anything really gross!  I could care less at this point what I look like naked!)

Health and I, at least physical health and my body, have not exactly got the best relationship track record.  In fact, we kind of ignore if not downright dislike each other.  And yet, as I settled in last week to do some of that reading and research, I was pretty aware of the need for that to start changing.

I weigh more than I ever have (a number that is creeping scarily close to the "obese" range on the BMI charts for my height). I'm also in a position to start changing some things.  I start my final practicum next week, the second last hurdle for me to cross before I'm officially a registered nurse.  I'm within six-eight weeks of being fully weaned off of the medication that I've been on for the last two years to manage moods and anxiety.  It's been a great medication, but I don't feel like I need the support at this point in my life, and it has contributed significantly to the weight gain challenges I've had in those two years. My schedule is about to be more consistent, and I'm removing a major obstacle.  I'm very aware that with coming off medication, I need to have a mentally and physically healthy lifestyle in place to hopefully stay off the pills.  And plus, in terms of a lot of other things in my life, I'm in a healthier place than I've been in a long time, so it's time to make some changes with my body and physical health.

So I did a lot of reading and research, because half the battle for me is convincing myself this is actually worth it.  I historically hate almost all forms of exercise, and when I get hungry I crave sweets.  You can see the problem.  I watched shows on neflix and on veria living to motivate and inform me.  I began to accumulate viewpoints and opinions that would work for me, and discard others.  For example, I watched a whole series with an auyervedic practitioner and discovered that I can definitely get on board with the holistic idea that all parts of my lifestyle (even how much stuff I own) impacts my health.  But I hated his method of talking about food, which treated food as utilitarian, not something to be done really for enjoyment or to be done in a social setting, but just as energy.  I can't get on board with that - it contradicts deeply held beliefs rooted in my faith that say that sharing a meal with people is a sacred and connecting practice - a form of communion that is beyond the body.

And all that reading and research ultimately led me to a few doable ideas to start making changes.  I can't get on board with spending twenty minutes a day focused on exercises for my abs, but I can use Dr. Oz's 7 Day Belly Workout Cheat Sheet, where I need to spend 2-5 minutes doing a different exercise each day.  I can't at this point commit to doing a whole 45 minute Jillian Michael's video, but I can commit to doing one (or sometimes two) six minute circuits 4-5 times a week.  I can't (and won't) go on a major diet, but I can use tools like the My Fitness Pal website to track what I'm eating, and set a doable calorie goal (usually the 0.5lb weight loss a week range). I can drink a glass of water with lime (I hate lemon in water and most other things) every day to help my body detox.  I can stick to a basic regimen of vitamins and probiotics. I can't always make it to the reccomended 10000 steps a day using my Fitbit tracker, but I can shoot realistically for greater that 6000 a day, and go from there. I can eat lots of fruits and veggies and limit gluten and starch in my diet.

And the reason that I think I can make these changes is that most of them are already somewhat in place in my life, while the others fit into a window of time and activity that doesn't feel like it will overwhelm me. For me, that's the key - to figure out what is doable for me, what I won't hate and immediately quit - and then build from there.  I'm working on that figuring out what's doable thing in the whole of my life right now, and it seems to be helping.

Here's hoping that figuring out doable in the realm of my body and physical health is going to improve for it!

(and p.s. also in the realm of doable - I'm going to look at an elliptical machine off of Kijiji with my dad tonight! I'm thinking my neflix sessions are going to require a bit more physical activity in the near future if all goes as planned!)

Of Work and Holidays and Beginning Again

Normally posts on my blog go live sometime around 8 am.  That's because normally by 8 am on a weekday, I've left the house, and I'm on my way to school, or work, or wherever else it is that I'm going.

This is the first holiday Monday in quite a while (thanks to Canada Day yesterday.  I love it when stats fall on a weekend and earn you an extra day off!).  I'm curled up in bed, and I only woke up about an hour ago.   I feel almost rested, having had three days off from school in a row.

Almost, but not quite.

I worked all three of those nights.  Evening shifts, from nine to around midnight, and then I trekked home on the train.

I haven't talked a lot about my new job here, in part because I need to protect the privacy of my employer, and in part because I haven't quite known what to say.

I'm working as a care aide for a disabled woman, and right now that mostly entails putting her to bed a couple of nights a week.

Going back to work, and juggling school and life as well has not been an easy transition for me.  I've struggled quite a bit with a resurgence of anxiety.  I've battled the extra exhaustion that comes from a change in schedule.  And the job itself has been one that has brought quite a few stresses. It's physically, mentally and especially emotionally demanding, and I've fought a lot of fears and dreads as I adapt.  Last night was the first mostly smooth, quickly accomplished shift that I've had, and I'm thankful for that.

The juggling of school and work is something that carries a lot of fear for me.  I've never done both successfully, and maintained a state of physical, mental and emotional health.  I feel like I have the tools to do that now, but it's still been incredibly rough.

I'm challenged particularly because over the last year I've recognized that I feel the most healthy, and the most "myself" when I have lots of space and downtime to attend to my need for stillness, to connect with God, and to find creative expression for myself.  The combination of factors in my life - the choice to go to school, the financial necessity of working, the knowledge that I need to maintain and pour into certain relationships - is not leaving much of that space for me, and there is a pretty steady level of stress in my life that to be honest, is stressing me out!  By that I mean that the knowledge of the presence of that stress, and the fears that go with my history of not being able to handle stress particularly well, are adding a layer of stress to what is naturally existing.

And so we come around to beginning again.  When I'm stressed, my diet suffers.  My willingness to exercise suffers.  I flip easily into survival mode.  I stop taking vitamins.  I don't manage sleep as well as I should.  I generally stop using successful coping techniques.

I've becomes so aware of this, and convicted of it over the last few weeks.  And I'm trying to take little steps, make little commitments, to begin again.  To use the coping techniques that I know are helpful. To take five minutes to swallow a handful of vitamins that will help protect my physical health and energy. To walk that extra flight of stairs, and eat blueberries or a nectarine instead of a cookie or cake.

I'm also thankful that there's only a month or so left in this semester, and then I will have nearly four weeks off from school.  That I will get to spend one of those weeks with some dear friends, away from home, gaining a change of scenery, and the chance to connect on a heart level.  That I will have some of that space I crave, and have to do less juggling for a time.

And so, I ponder work and holidays and beginning again, and make little baby stepping commitments towards the things that I know work for me.

Baby Steps (Continuing the Journey of Body and Food)

The conversation that took place on my last post in this series on my journey with my body and food inspired me.  It was a conversation that I was reminded of when I came across this image on pinterest this week:

Source: fightingthinspo.tumblr.com via ☮Kristyn on Pinterest

I obviously don't have a daughter right now, and maybe I never will, but this image reminded me of the comments that friends left on my last post, about their own daughters, and helped remind me of the importance of learning to love my body now, in this place of having more questions than answers.

After writing that post, I went back to my therapist and we talked about the four week experiment she'd asked me to undertake.  The experiment where I didn't count points or calories, where I didn't climb on a scale, but instead I tried to be more aware of loving my body, of caring for it.

I shared with her that I was fairly certain that over the course of the four week experiment I'd gained back nearly all of the weight I'd spent the previous twelve weeks trying to lose.  That without some sort of tracking system, I found myself eating everything in sight, and rationalizing it.  I was emotional, and craving chocolate - my body wanted chocolate - I only gave it what it wanted, right?  Not precisely a healthy or rounded way of handling things.  Her observation, after more conversation was this - that I had stopped being horrible to my body, but now I was acting indifferently, not really kindly.  She also noted that I seemed to need to some accountability.

So, we tweaked the experiment, and I'm taking baby steps forward.  I'm working on forming healthier images of beauty.  On actually appreciating my body - noticing the myriad of things it does for me each day.  I'm working on noticing the parts of my body that I genuinely like, and focusing on them.  I'm working on being kind to my body.  I'm working on eating more fruits and vegetables, and listening to what my body wants, but filtering out the voices that like immature children ask for desires rather than needs - for chocolate instead of strawberries or carrots.  And I'm counting calories again.

The counting thing works for me.  This has never been a journey solely about weight.  Yes, I'd like to lose some weight (between 15-25 pounds if I'm honest), but it's not about weight particularly.  I'm recognizing a need to love and respect myself - to really see myself as a whole being.  To not have my body be only a utilitarian accessory that I only notice when it fails.  To see my body as the temple I reflected on when I first began writing this series.

Source: emilymcdowell.posterous.com via Jen on Pinterest

I'm recognizing, too, that how I care for myself has a direct impact on my ongoing struggle with mental illness, depression, anxiety, and self-image.  That how I treat myself is a strong indicator not only my own physical health, but my social and mental health as well.

On the wholly practical note, pinterest and counting have been helpful.  I've found exercise tips and images that spoke truths I needed to hear on pinterest.  And counting, well, counting just gives me a target.  I use a website and iphone app called "Lose It!" and have found it helpful, especially as I've personalized it with the foods I eat most regularly.  As someone who has pretty much always despised exercise (with the possible exceptions of synchronized swimming and yoga), it's motivating to me that I earn extra calories through daily activities like walking and house cleaning.  Counting calories isn't an exact science for me.  I'll probably never weigh and measure everything I eat, and I'll probably never have a perfect week of food consumption, under the limit every day, saying no to everything that someone somewhere might deem unhealthy.  But I'm learning that this caring for my body thing is about moderation.  About those baby steps my counselor and I have talked about as necessary in restoring any relationship.  That the goal is to have more good days than bad days.  That sometimes the glass of wine with friends is a good thing, or the celebrating with a decadent restaurant meal is a way of thanking my body and treating my emotions.  That even if a week has more bad days than good, I get to keep trying again and again.

So, I'm counting, I'm looking for new images of beauty, I'm trying to find ways to be gentle and loving to my body.  I'm eating more strawberries (berries in general, really), and I'm hanging out on pinterest.  And I'm using Lose It! (if you happen to use it, let me know - there's a friend feature that can help add accountability).  Baby steps, folks.  The next one is going to be creating a list of all the different little things that I can do to "feel good" on a given day - body, soul, and spirit.  A sort of handy daily checklist that I can refer to.  Another way of adding a bit of accountability to this process for me.

I'd love to hear how this journey has been going for each of you.  Have you been taking baby steps? Giant steps? Are you the need accountability type?  Are there things that are unfailingly on your own "feel good" lists?  The conversation about this journey has been so helpful for me.  Don't let it stop now!

Admitting A Disorder (More Thoughts on the Body)

On Monday I started talking about a new journey I've been walking with Jesus the last few months, surrounding my relationship with my body, and my relationship with food. I wasn't planning to get this intense this quickly in sharing some of my journey with my body and food, but then I discovered that in the United States, February 26-March 3, 2012 is Eating Disorder Awareness week, and I knew it was time to tell this piece of my story.

Food and I, well, we have a conflicted, love-hate kind of relationship.  I love food, but my body has often hated it.

If you ask my family about me as a child, they might tell you the story of the time my cousin (five weeks younger than me) was crawling around the house, eating a cracker, when I spotted him.  Apparently my immediate response was to follow him, and eat any crumbs or bits he dropped.  I grew up thinking of myself as "chubby" and this fit with the family lore.  There are comments about my love of food, and my weight that were made by male members of my family burned in my memory permanently, causing an ache, and helping me define myself.

Years as a synchronized swimmer meant that I never developed the "I look horrible in a swimsuit" complex that other girls dealt with.  I knew I didn't look great, but I loved the water, and the sport, and, well, you couldn't participate without a swimsuit.  I was comfortable standing in front of a crowd in my one-piece, or teaching a class, while continually aware that my figure was far from the cultural ideal.

It didn't help that the women in my family are tiny.  In case I've never mentioned, I'm the only girl in my generation on both sides of the family, so the women I had to compare myself to were parents, aunts, and grandparents.  My mom's generation in particular is comprised of tiny women.  The fact that as I hit puberty it became clear that my body was a throwback to my grandmother's generation, with, well, curves, did not help.

But mostly, I didn't worry too much about it.  I was continually aware of those extra five or ten pounds I needed to lose, but I spent almost no time on a scale, and just chose not to focus my thoughts there.

My first bout with food problems came in eleventh grade, and it started a pattern that continued for the next fifteen years or so, off and on.  Nearly every day I'd throw most of my lunch away (this after eating minimal or no breakfast), because I felt ill.  It fluctuated, and eventually passed.  (It should be noted that somewhere in those years was the onset of my battle with severe depression, and all the spiritual questioning that came with it.)

I lost probably 10 pounds that year, without trying.  I just couldn't eat.

The weight came and went for the next few years, my ability to eat nearly almost diminishing to nothing during the more highly stressful periods of my life.  I subsisted on cookies, bread, crackers - anything and everything that was loaded with carbs and generally fit into the sweet or bland categories of consumption.  The rare times I was hungry, it was sweets that I craved, and my body wasn't satisfied unless I ate and ate a lot.

It was manageable, though, with more weight gain than loss (though never anything excessive), until I traveled to Malta about four years ago.  When I think back on that trip, and my relationship with food around it, what stands out to me is that the moment the trip became real, the night I went out for a goodbye dinner with my family, I became instantly sick.  I returned home from that meal, vomited unexpectedly, and ultimately ate almost nothing for the next five days.  The first food I consumed was on the airplane.  I also spent those five days begging God to quiet my notoriously picky stomach for the next month or so, knowing that I wouldn't make it through the trip if my stomach and its aversions acted up.  He did, and I ate comfortably (for me anyway!) until the day I boarded a plan in London to return home.

In the months following my return, my life began to fall apart - a process that altogether took more than a year.  Relationships shattered and my emotions shattered with them.  My body couldn't cope.  I spent days and weeks and months fasting, in an attempt to please people, to please God, to bargain my sacrifice for some sort of relief that never came.  Over the course of that year, I lost somewhere between 25 and 30 pounds.  I worried silently about the weight that slipped off without me ever trying, but always silently, because it was nice to have this newer body, this tinier body that people were noticing.  It was a conflicted thing the noticing.  I was sick, ill, broken all the time, emotionally shattered, but my body had never looked better.  I'm nothing if not often described as bluntly honest, and I spent a lot of time that year answering compliments and questions about my weight loss with the honest truth "no, I haven't been trying to lose weight, I've just been really sick."  Ironically, when I looked in the mirror, my body looked the same through my shattered eyes.  I didn't see my waist-line, I saw the tired and sad eyes, the soul that was always out of step.

I was afraid to say it out loud, but I began wondering if I was fighting a new battle with mental illness, this time with an eating disorder.  When someone in my life challenged me specifically on eating habits, on embracing life, I grasped at it, and immediately implemented a strict regimen of meals.  For months I used stickers on a calendar to display the fact that for maybe the first time since I was a child, I was eating three meals a day.  It worked for me, this grasping for control.  The weight loss stopped, and I even gained a little.  I still didn't have to worry about what I ate, since my emotions were still in shambles.  I never said the words "eating disorder" to anyone, though deep down I knew that this was what I was fighting to control.  I'd had years to make peace with admitting that I suffered from depression, but adding other diagnoses to the list felt overwhelming.  I carefully avoided questions from my doctor at annual physicals, skirting the issue of eating habits without ever lying - working the system just so.  And I managed it.  No more fasting, no more excuses to starve myself - just a strict three sticker a day regimen - one on the calendar for each meal I consumed.

I was proud of this success, and I shared it, celebrated it.  I didn't tell anyone about the fears that haunted me.  I didn't tell anyone about how I wondered what would happen when my body would again fail me by rejecting food.  I didn't talk about and tried to ignore the fear of waiting and expecting another of the usual onslaught of a week or so where food would just not be an option.  I just forced myself to eat those meals, and celebrated with stickers and with pride every little milestone - a day, a week, a month, three months, six months - I had this under control, or at least that was what I was telling the world.

After life finally seemed to hit bottom, I spent some time with a friend who rather forcefully (though gently) pushed through my objections to seeking professional help.  I found a therapist and began the work of piecing a life back together, but I never mentioned the challenges with food.  After all, I still had them under control.  I may not have had an appetite, but I didn't have trouble eating three small meals a day anymore.  I still craved mostly sugar (likely the calories my body simply wasn't getting), and indulged those cravings.  My weight had stabilized - I wasn't gaining, I wasn't losing.

And then, somewhere in the process of therapy, Jesus and I started talking about medication to help my ongoing battle with depression and anxiety.  I never wanted to admit that need.  I wanted to do this on my own terms, and admitting a need for medication felt like a failure.  Feeling defeated, but convinced this was something Jesus was inviting me to try, I landed myself in my doctor's office and described what I'd been dealing with.  She listened, addressed some of my fears and concerns, and then handed me  a prescription.  I started taking it about nine months ago now.

Medication in combination with ongoing therapy has made all the difference in the world in my emotional, mental and spiritual health, but it highlighted my issues with food in new ways.  When I started the meds, I spent a week in bed.  My body reacted strongly to this sudden onslaught of chemicals it had learned to live without, and the period of adjustment was rough.  I didn't eat that week, lived on 7-Up (the only thing that sounded good, and the only time in more than 10 years that I'd been able to drink a carbonated beverage), and slept for hours and hours at a time.  The next month wasn't much fun.  The nausea passed, but my appetite was gone, and I was back to forcing the issue with eating.  My fears were back in force, as I felt my carefully controlled world slipping.  And then? A month in we adjusted the dosage, and on the first day of the new dose I woke up feeling truly good for the first time in probably five years.  I didn't look back.  My appetite was back in a real way for the first time since high school.  I ate anything and everything, without considering consequences.  My body didn't seem to be changing, so I didn't worry.  I wasn't battling the nausea I so often had with emotional stress.  I was HUNGRY, and that was huge.

Except that last November I tried on a dress and it didn't fit.  A couple more incidents over the holidays landed me on a scale, and I discovered that the medication and appetite had had consequences.  I'd gained 25 pounds, because I'd never learned to manage my eating habits.  They'd been broken so long that I didn't understand the way "normal" worked.

And that has left me here.  Today I'm saying out loud that I have an eating disorder.  Not the typical kind you think of, but there is unhealth in relationship with food, and I think that this is something that's important to say out loud.

As the new year began, I came up with some goals for handling my newfound appetite, and for losing some weight, and I'll talk about those in posts to come, but today, in this week where awareness of eating disorders is being raised, I'm going to say it out loud - I suffer from a mild eating disorder.  And in the invitation to say that out loud, in the invitation of that honesty that I've felt from Jesus over the last couple months, I am finding freedom, and a renewed invitation to heal.  I am finding healing in the new ways I'm managing my diet, and I'm finding freedom in not needing to fear my body.  And I'm going to walk through some more emotional healing, starting by reading this post to my therapist the next time I meet with her, and inviting her to help me work through this part of my life as well.

So, again, I invite you to journey with me, but today I also feel Jesus smiling at each of you, offering his presence in these journeys with our bodies, and with food.  Offering healing and His delight in each of us.  Offering to let us step more fully into the light.  Won't you step into this in your own journey today?

A Temple? (Some Thoughts on the Body)

                        Source: tonedcurves.tumblr.com via Lisa on Pinterest

I have for quite some time now been staring at a tab with the above image displayed on it in my web browser.  The tab has been open for days, weeks even, as I ponder the words in the image, and ponder the way they relate to how my heart is being shaped in this season.  It has been open, and I've stared at it as I pondered how on earth to broach this topic in this space, and if I even would.  This topic feels like a risk.

It seems funny to say that talking about my relationship with my body and food seems like a risk.  In this space I've spoken openly about my journey with mental illness, spirituality and other very personal things.  Things that are in some ways nearer and dearer to my heart, more personal in many ways than the topic of my body and food.  But talking about this feels risky.

And yet, I don't believe it's an option to NOT talk about it.  This is something new, something that is being outworked in my life, something Jesus is drawing my attention to.  For a couple of months now, I've been quietly paying attention to it, noticing it, dialoging about it in select trusted circles.  And now, quietly, though I by no means have it all sorted out, I'm going to start talking about it here in this space where I share the ways my life is being shaped, moulded, and changed.  I imagine it will take more posts than just this one and that this, like mental illness and spirituality and all those other personal things I share in this space, is a journey that will be an ongoing topic of discussion.  But, for a little while, I'll probably talk about it regularly as I explore in writing these things that are surfacing within me and demanding my attention.

"The food you eat can either be the safest and most powerful form or medicine or the slowest form of poison." (Ann Wigmore)

This quote hit a raw and poignant place when I read it for the first time a month or so ago.  I was about a month into a new habit of paying very close attention to what I eat and noticing how it affects my body.

This whole thing started sometime in mid-November, when I tried on a dress I hadn't worn in a while - a  dress I was planning to wear to an engagement party being held for my brother and his fiancee.  It didn't fit.  It should have fit.  I was convinced that it had been shrunken accidentally in the laundry by the last person who wore it - a friend I'd loaned it to - one who usually wore slightly larger clothing than me.  I was frustrated that my dress didn't fit, but didn't connect it to my body.  Over the next month, a few other encounters with clothes from my closet that fit differently than I expected them to led me to dragging out the bathroom scale sometime around the beginning of the new year.

Twenty-five pounds.

Twenty-five pounds.  I'd never in my life worried about weight or what I ate, but it seemed that the combination of a medication I began taking about eight months earlier to treat anxiety and depression, and the appetite that I had for the first time in a decade as a result of the medication had taken their toll.  I'd gained twenty-five pounds.

The number registering on the scale ushered in a new season of life in my body.  Suddenly, this thing that I never acknowledged unless it somehow failed me, was demanding my attention.  It was calling for me to notice it, to notice my habits surrounding it, to be open to them, and to letting Jesus share with me how he sees me in a new way.  I've explored how Jesus sees me quite a lot the last few years, and fallen in love with him more deeply along the way, but I don't think we've ever talked about my body.  Why would we?  My body was utilitarian, and I preferred to ignore it, rather than acknowledge it.  I was afraid of it too - afraid of it failing me, afraid of acknowledging that I couldn't control it at times, afraid of acknowledging that I failed it.

Around the same time as the numbers registered on the scale began to signal that there was something I needed to pay attention to, my friend Christianne began to write about her own journey with her body.  I found in Christianne's words the comfort that comes from realizing that a journey that seemed strange and odd to me was perhaps not quite so strange and odd, and was not one that is being walked alone, but one that was and is walked out continually by people all over the face of the planet.

And so with the awareness of the scale and the comfort of knowing that this was not a journey that I was the first or only one to walk, I began to walk.  I made plans silently as the new year began, starting with setting the goal of losing those twenty-five pounds over the next six months to a year.  I explored ways and means to help me achieve that goal, and I began to listen to my body more closely.  I began to prayerfully put this new awareness in front of Jesus, and wait to see where he would guide.  I became aware of the others who were talking about caring for their body, consuming food in a mindful way, discussing the fact that our bodies are holy.

I've never had to think about weight or the food I consumed - my physical response to my emotional and mental state took care of that.  I would gain a little weight when times were good and I felt stable, but I never worried about those pounds, because the one thing I knew about my body was that it consistently failed me.  That times would get bad again thanks to the battles I fought with depression and anxiety, and those pounds would melt away along with my appetite, and sometimes my ability to keep food down.

I'm going to talk more about my relationship with food in the future, but I want to highlight this - the only thing that I trusted about my body was that it would fail me.  I had learned that this was it's one consistent behavior.  My brain chemistry would get wonky, the hard times would come, and my appetite would disappear.  I didn't notice or acknowledge my body except to berate it.  To be frustrated with it. To wonder why it continually let me down.

In Christianne's first post in her series on the body, she shared a question she asked Jesus, "Help me to learn how you view my body, and help me learn how you want me to care for it."

She posted that question about a week after I'd really begun in earnest to notice my body, to try to treat it differently, and in that question I found words for the things rolling around in my head and heart.  As I began to ask Jesus how he saw my body, and what he wanted me to know about it, the first thing that sprang to mind was a passage of scripture that talks about our bodies as temples of the Holy Spirit.

My love of all things liturgical caused that phrase to conjure up an incredible set of memories and images.  Images of beauty, of holiness.  Memories of the first Catholic mass I attended at St. Mary's Cathedral here in Calgary, and of the churches I sat and prayed in in Rome and Malta.  Thoughts of the four and a half years I spent studying to obtain a degree in church history, and the feeling of setting foot in some of those places several years later when I travelled to Europe for the first time.  Memories of being a small child, and having my first "job" helping my grandparents who worked as church custodians - cleaning bathrooms, watering plants, cleaning glass, and carefully dusting the pews each week.  Mental images from childhood of watching pilgrims prayerfully ascend the steps to St. Joseph's Oratory in Montreal, and more recent ones of the moment I stood before a priest in St. Peter's Basillica in Rome, to receive the ashes in the last mass of the day on Ash Wednesday, of the feeling of the ashes on my head as I stood in the center of that magnificent church.

I thought about temples as I read through Leviticus in my daily scripture readings, encountering the strict commands that God gave to his people about the construction of this place of worship - about the beauty and awe it should generate.  I thought about temples as I considered the churches, cathedrals, and sacred spaces that I've visited all over North America and during my time in Europe.  I thought about how these are the places that have been made sacred, set apart for God to dwell in, to meet with his people in.  And I thought about the maintenance devoted to these spaces - how their sacred nature demands care.  And then I returned again to the passage of Scripture that seemed to be Jesus' immediate answer to my question.

Eugene Peterson translates the passage like this:

Or didn't you realize that your body is a sacred place, the place of the Holy Spirit? Don't you see that you can't live however you please, squandering what God paid such a high price for? The physical part of you is not some piece of property belonging to the spiritual part of you. God owns the whole works. So let people see God in and through your body.  (1 Corinthians 6:19-20 The Message)

As I explored the context of these verses and the passages that surround them, I came across others in the same chapter:


You know the old saying, "First you eat to live, and then you live to eat"? Well, it may be true that the body is only a temporary thing, but that's no excuse for stuffing your body with food, or indulging it with sex. Since the Master honors you with a body, honor him with your body!


God honored the Master's body by raising it from the grave. He'll treat yours with the same resurrection power. Until that time, remember that your bodies are created with the same dignity as the Master's body. You wouldn't take the Master's body off to a whorehouse, would you? I should hope not. (1 Corinthians 6:13-15 The Message)

Three things became strikingly clear to me, and are the things that I continue to ponder daily.

First, my body is a temple.  It is a sacred space, set aside for God to reside in, and for Him to meet with me.  The implications of that stun me.  I've heard the passage in context of arguments for not smoking, not consuming excessive amounts of alcohol, and even the need for regular exercise.  All of these were arguments that meant little to me.  But hearing Jesus remind me that I am his temple?  That was a different story, and I find myself pondering the implications of being a temple, given my associations of temples with sacred space, holiness and deep beauty.  I find myself pondering the fact that a temple is designed to display the glory of God, and maintained to continue that display for ages to come.  It leaves me with questions about my own display of God's glory.  Questions about the teaching I grew up with that it is the inner beauty that displays the glory of God, and the inner beauty only.  Questions about how it is that I care for this temple - how I maintain it so that it continues to display God's glory.

Second, this phrase in Peterson's rendering of these verses jumped out at me: "Since the Master honors you with a body, honor him with your body!"  My body is an honor given to me by Christ.  That's a thought that is going to require some further meditation and conversation with Jesus.

And finally, my body is created with the same dignity as Christ's body.  Hello!  Did you catch that in the passages I quoted?  It stopped me in my tracks.  Peterson's version reads, "...remember that your bodies are created with the same dignity as the Master's body. You wouldn't take the Master's body off to a whorehouse, would you? I should hope not."  It's a rather striking image, this age old question of "Would I take Jesus there or subject Him to that, and if not, why am I taking myself there, or subjecting myself to it?"  I have a thousand arguments to answer those questions and justify various things in my life or the life of others around me, but it boils down to this: when this is a personal question, when I am talking with Jesus and he is asking me if I am treating my own body and how I see it in the way I would treat and see his body, I need to stop and think a bit.


And so I'm pondering, and asking questions, and listening, and implementing new habits and practices.  And I'm going to talk about those things here.  I set out to write one post about the changing way in which I am relating to my body, and my history with my body, and as I wrote I discovered that I have stories to tell.   For the next while I will share these stories and ponderings and questions in this space, and I'd like to invite you to journey with me as I talk about food, about my body, about being a temple, about weight and eating, about health and self-image, and coming into myself more fully.  You're welcome to come along, and I'd definitely love to hear your thoughts and interact with you about this.  Feel free to leave a comment, or to email me at the address in my profile.

A Healing Story: 2011 Goals/Hopes/Dreams

I just wrote a post declaring that my "one word" for 2011 is going to be Heal.  And that my overarching word theme for my life is "story," as in "write a better story". 

For the last few days, as I've been reading blog posts and articles about new year's resolutions and healing, and happiness and mental health, and minimalism, and simplicity, and all the other topics that inspire or capture me, I've been jotting notes on a slip of paper, tucked in the back of the notebook in which I've recently been making the daily "to do" list items that don't quite make the list of "to do's" that I keep in my phone.

This morning I spent about an hour, curled up under a pile of blankets, translating that slip of paper into a mulit-colored journal entry, creating a list of goals and dreams for 2011.

I wasn't going to do it by hand this year, but I'm glad I changed my mind.  There's something therapeutic about writing by hand, planning and dreaming for the year to come.

When I finished, the page of goals and dreams looked like this:

 

(I did mention that I like to use multiple colors of ink, right?)

These are the items that list contained:

• Yoga.  Do 10 minute yoga at home at least twice a week.  Use up the 40 yoga class passes for a local yoga studio that I purchased when they were the deal of the day on Living Social.
• Scarf wearing.  Totally a random thing, but I want to wear a scarf at least once or twice a week, just because I love how they look, and how I feel in them.
• Curly hair.  Ditto to the scarf wearing.  Wearing my hair curly also means I spend a bit more time caring for my appearance.
• One Word.  Do the project for the class each month.  Basically a way to inspire creativity and focus on my theme word of "heal" for the year.
• Vitamins.  Keep up with a regular routine of taking them.  The same for the natural health treatments, using my SAD lamp, and a couple of other natural health steps I've been taking.
• Scripture Reading.  This only works for me if there is some kind of discipline involved.  I'm crappy at just picking up the bible and reading consistently.  So, the goal is to read through the Bible in a year.  Choose a plan, and stick to it.  Read ahead, catch up, whatever, but read through the whole Bible in the 1 year time frame. 
• Cook.  Same idea as last year, and another way to stir creativity and to find joy in doing something I love.  Try 12 new recipes total.  Half of last year's goal, but more feasible given my lack of a kitchen of my own.
• Write real cards and letters.  A fun way to build friendships, express gratitude and love, and just generally appreciate people.  At least 2 per month, and keep a list of who they've gone to.  (Bonus points for taking the time to make the cards by hand.)
• Budget.  2010 saw the end of all debt except my student loans (which will likely be increasing instead of decreasing for a while now, given that I'm planning to go back to school).  Let's keep it that way.
• Read.  At least two books a month.  Or listen to unabridged audio versions.  Whatever.  Just take in new information and challenge my brain along with stimulating my love affair with words.
• TOMS.  Buy a pair.  Probably these.  Because friends swear they're comfy, and because I love shoes and think the concept of donating a pair for every pair sold is very cool.
• Kiva loan.  Loan at least $50 to kiva projects over the course of the year.
• Write.  On paper.  In a journal.  At least once a week.  For something different.  I think it takes different brain cells to write on paper instead of online.  And I find it therapeutic, but don't do it nearly often enough.
• Blog.  Keep up the daily 5.  Aim for about one other post other than the daily 5 a day, at least on weekdays.  Keep working on the Grey's Monologue's blog project I started as a hobby.  Finish transcribing the monologues from the past season's of Grey's.
• Risk.  Try new things and give old things a second chance.  It's okay if you hate it.  It's okay if nothing has changed since you tried it in the first place, but be willing to give it a shot.  (As an aside, I lived this one out on Christmas day when I tried eating crab in two different forms.  I still hate it.  It did nothing to change my position that if it lived in water when it was alive, it should most definitely never cross my lips.  But, I did try it.)
• Get my US passport.  Because then I can say I legally have two passports, and that's fun, right?
• Travel.  Someplace requiring an airline ticket. (And preferably the crossing of an international border, even if it is just the border to the US.)

There are other things that I'll continue with in 2011.  Other things that have shaped and will shape my life.  But these are the sort of fun, shape my ability to live joyfully, and shape who I am as a person goals.  And these days, those are the sorts of goals that I most want to set and live out.  Because they are the ones that shape the story I tell with my life, and shape things like whether or not 2011 is a year where the word that defines it is "heal".

An ugly reality

I am recognizing, lately, an ugly reality in my life.

Panic springs up easily, and it is so often tied to either fear, or to a need to perform, or both.

I'm thinking about this right now, because I'm nervously waiting for my phone to ring.  I'm trying to reschedule an exam that I had booked for tomorrow morning.

The reality of the tight scheduling of my courses this summer means that I booked some exams well in advance of when I began to study the material they covered.

In this case, that means that I've come up to the exam, written the practice midterm this afternoon, and discovered that I have less of a grasp of the material than I thought.  I need to give myself more time to review and learn the material than I have in the next 15 hours (especially given that I very much need to be asleep for at least 5 or six of those hours!)

But, because the school is online driven, it's hard to get a human on the phone to speak with.  I've left a few voicemail messages, and now I wait.

And panic.

What if they don't call me back in time?  What if I fail the exam tomorrow?  What if I pass but the grade is still really bad?  What if? What if? What if?

I have this insane drive to perform.  And when it looks like I can't meet that invisible standard in my head, I panic.

Lately this is especially driven by schoolwork.

I think it's partly because school was always "my thing."  It was the thing that came naturally, and at which I excelled.

In a family of athletes, I was bookish.

But, in a family where school was also a place of high achievement, I excelled, generally without trying very hard.

I grew up hearing about how mom worked ridiculously long hours to pay for university and still managed to pull off a 3.8 GPA.  The only C she ever got was in swimming, and that was because she'd never swam in her life until it was a required course for a physical education major.  And hearing how dad was the valedictorian of his Bible school class.

The thing I remember most about the day I picked up my university diploma is a comment (intended very jokingly, but still striking a deep nerve) my dad made when I proudly displayed it, "How come it doesn't say magna or summa cum laude?"

Anatomy is revealing these insecurities in surprising ways as I cope with grades that are less than what I'd hoped, and the realization that I will need to accept that I've done my best in the limited time available to me.  And, as I work to contain the many spiralling "what ifs" that the final grade in anatomy can stir in regards to my future acceptance to a nursing program.

And so I'm sitting here, in tears, worrying about failure.

Because somehow, in my head, failure, or even a "poor grade" is tied up with my value in the world.

If I fail, it must be because I am a failure.  It must mean that I'm worthless.

It's cliche, these issues of mine with performance, and the very cliche nature of them ticks me off.  (I hate to be a cliche!)

And rationally, I know that my value isn't tied in my grades, or how well I perform, or whether or not I manage to measure up to some invisible, ever-changing, and impossibly high standard.  I know I won't be loved more or less (at least not by people who really matter) if the grade is poor.

But panic, well, it clouds the issue.  And it's an ugly and very present reality in my life right now, as I work through these issues and others.

So I'm sitting here, waiting for my phone to ring, and writing a blog post to talk myself back to sanity.

And I'm reminding myself of a line that Rob Bell repeated over and over and over at the end of his DVD "The God's Aren't Angry".  "You don't have to live like this.  You don't have to live like this."

And I'm determining, all over again, that there will be a day when I don't live like this.  That I don't have to live like this.  That panic doesn't have to rule.  That fear cannot control my life this way.  That it will go, a little at a time, and that by reminding myself that this is not a healthy response, and that I don't have to live like this, I'm taking tiny, infinitesimal, baby steps in the direction of healing.

And I'll take any progress in the direction of healing that I can find.

New Experience. Bruised.

Last night I had an appointment with my natural health practitioner.  I'd been looking forward to this appointment as I had several questions for him, and I was even more relieved for the appointment to arrive because I've been fighting with some severely sore muscles and bad headaches for the last couple of days and knew enough to know that he would probably be able to relieve some of the symptoms.

This was a new one, though.  The muscles were so tight that he declared that "cupping" was the only thing that was going to quickly and effectively loosen the knots, giving me me relief.  (By the way, there was no bloodletting - which the article I linked to mentions!)

It worked, but let me tell you, you should see my back and shoulders.  They're much looser, and I have large, perfectly round bright reddish purple bruises where the cups were.  Ugly, big bruises.  Apparently this is from the release of toxins.  It wasn't all that painful, except for one, and even that was more of a growing pulling pressure than really pain.  But, let me tell you, I won't be wearing a bikini (or bathing suit of any kind really) or a low backed top, or really anything in which you can see the back of me anytime soon!

Daily 5 - Day 270

Today's Daily 5:

1. 270 days of Daily 5 Lists
2. Had a treatment tonight with one of my natural health practitioners
3. Editing photos for the slideshow
4. A hug from and chat with my mom
5. Finished an audio book today (Committed).

Daily 5 - Day 259

So, as days and weeks go, this one has kind of stunk.  And with that in mind, as I headed out to start my day this morning, I made special note of anything and everything that made me smile, jotting a bunch of the items on a notepad in my purse.  It was a worthwhile exercise I think, and certainly makes writing the daily 5 list tonight far easier.  So, today's daily 5:

1. two beautiful little Eastern European girls on the bus with their mom (aunt?) this morning.  They had infectious and mischievous smiles that brought a smile to my own face.
2. the doctor's appointment I had today went so much better than I was imagining it might.
3. I spent 15 minutes or so chatting with a random stranger at the bus stop, while we both stood in the stormy weather and waited for the bus to arrive.  What made me smile about this was not so much the conversation itself, but the fact that I was open to it, that I wasn't so lost within my self, so internal, that I wasn't aware of the other person, or choosing to ignore her.
4. The tech who drew my blood for the bloodwork my doctor ordered was really good.  I'm not excessively queasy, but I don't love needles, and she was very efficient and didn't hurt me too much.
5. The pharmacy had the meds I needed refilled in stock.  I've learned the hard way that I can't always expect this to be the case.
6. Because of the snow storm, my office got closed for the day.  So, what was going to be a half-day off to go to my medical appointments turned into a full day, and likely won't cost me the half-day of personal time I'd planned on.
7. Because I was in medical offices and a lab, I couldn't have my phone on.  Instead I sat and read "Jesus Freak" and loved what I was reading
8. Candles lit all around my bedroom this afternoon
9. Scented oil burning in the oil burner
10. a really helpful guy at the gas station tonight when I had some trouble with one of my tires
11. Feeling quite sheltered and cushioned by God amidst all the crazy life has thrown my way this week.
12. Finished reading "Jesus Freak".  So good, down to the last words.
13. organic dried apples
14. Just chatting on the phone with T. for a bit tonight.  There's something about talking with family on a really rough day that always helps for me.  (Of course it also almost always means that I cry, but I'm learning that that's not so unhealthy, or something I need to be embarrassed about either.)
15. Tomorrow is Friday.  I'm almost at the end of this goofy week.

On a Brighter Note

Lest the world think I'm totally bogged down (though I am somewhat overwhelmed) by the most recent challenge life is throwing at me with this car situation, let me share a few happy things.  (And, because I was already having a hard day when the day started, I was particularly careful to note the things that made me smile today, and have a long list for tonight's daily 5.)

I had my last medical appointment this morning.  Pending the results of some blood work I had done, I've been pronounced fit for another year of life.  I have instructions on a couple of little things (mostly dietary to see how they affect energy) to keep an eye on, and I'm good to go.

That this appointment went well was very encouraging.  I'd been dreading this one, particularly since the last time I saw one of the doctors at this clinic, they prescribed a particular medication that I was initially hesitant to go on, and ended up deciding not to use.  The physician I saw this morning was much easier to talk with, and we discussed some ways of managing the hormone imbalances that seem to create crazy lows in my mood from time to time, without going on medication long-term.  That made me very, very happy.  I like a doctor, who, however she feels about the more natural remedies that I prefer, will work with me, instead of demeaning me.

That appointment, one which I'd been dreading, left me encouraged, and relieved actually, and for that bright spot in a gross week, I'm grateful.

Daily 5 - Day 258

So, pretty much the last thing I feel like doing tonight is writing a list of any length at all of things that made me smile, or things I'm grateful for.  As days goes, this one really stunk.  Basically none of the things I would have liked to have happen did.  And I got some bad news concerning my car that likely means that I'll be back to having no car within the next week or two, probably semi-permanently (like for the next couple years).  More on that tomorrow, I'm busy trying not to think about it tonight.

So, anyway, these are the good things from today, however many I can scrape up, and actually, a day like this is probably the day it's most important for me to do this exercise anyway:

1. The antacid I took for whatever was going on with my stomach again this morning seemed to work.  I didn't feel good, but I could at least function for the day.
2. It was "pass out paystubs" day at work.  This is one of the best 10 minutes of every two week cycle of work for me.  Everyone is glad to see me on this day.  And I get such jovial thank you's from everyone when I drop off a piece of paper that says there will be money appearing in their bank account the following day.
3. The one thing that worked as planned tonight was I did make it to my hair appointment.  And I have these fabulous new highlights in a couple shades of blond and a coppery red.  And styled hair, which means, whatever tomorrow holds, I'm going to look nice for it.  I'll try and take a picture, or have someone take one for me tomorrow.
4. I got a hug from L. while I sobbed my eyes out in overwhelmed exhaustion after work.
5. I bought a new purse that I'm pretty excited about.
6. I really love my new iphone.  It was so cool to be able to check emails and facebook on the train, and at the mall tonight.
7. Even amidst all the sucky stuff, once I stopped sobbing I was able to just sit and let myself find some perspective, and even some things to be thankful for as life throws me yet another loop.
8. Because I'm having my hair put up for the wedding, my hairdresser just thinned it, and didn't cut it tonight after she colored it.  She recommended leaving it long for the girl who's putting it up.  That means that I have another hair appointment booked for in about three weeks time.  Sweet.  Next to massages, appointments with my hairdresser (and maybe pedicures) are my absolute favorite form of relaxation and pampering.
9. Because I have a medical appointment tomorrow morning, I have the morning off work and can sleep in by about an extra hour and a half.
10. I figured out how to connect my new phone to the free wi-fi in the mall.
11. I realized today that it's only about 2 more months until the U2 concert that I have tickets to!

In other news...

I was thinking that these random morning posts are becoming something like an exercise a bunch of my artistic friends used to do.  It was from a book by Julia Cameron, and called morning pages.  The whole idea was that if you started out your day by simply sitting down and writing 3 pages of just whatever was on your mind - shopping lists, things you're thinking about - whatever, then this regular practice stirred creativity.  I actually find that by stopping here and writing down the random things on my mind, I feel more free to really write at other times.  Like writing down the random things creates space for the deeper things stirring within me.

I'm sipping green tea and hoping it will calm my stomach.  I woke again with a terrible stomach-ache and heartburn.  It's been happening every few months, for no discernible reason.

It's raining outside and they're promising it will turn to a whole pile of snow by tonight.  Last week it was 20C and I was wearing skirts and capri pants to work.  Today we have a "winter storm warning" in effect.  Only in Calgary.

Actually, I blame my dad for the snow.  Everytime he leaves the country it snows.  Doesn't seem to matter what time of year it is.  He and mom are enjoying poolside weather in Phoenix with my aunt and uncle this week.  And we're having snow.  It's just how it works, I guess.

Yesterday's plans to have coffee with a long-time friend were postponed to today.  I'm hoping they happen today, anyway.  He can be a little bit flaky.  (He's actually forgotten that he was my ride home from somewhere.  Twice.)  But he's a great friend, the one who was with me on that odd night nearly five years ago now when my depression was healed so suddenly and unexpectedly.  And I hope I get to see him.  I could use some time right now with the kind of friend who has all the details.  Who's been around through it all, and we can just talk honestly with each other.  And a hug.  I could use a hug from that kind of friend too.

Last night, after months of deliberation and research, I joined the cult of iphone, and I'm quite looking forward to discovering all the fun things it will let me do.  I had thought that I was going to need to wait another six months, until my current phone contract expired, and then switch phone companies, as a different company had far better rates.  But, I called my phone company, and negotiated, and they decided customer loyalty (I've been with them for years) was worth rewarding, and comfortably matched the price the other company was offering.  So, I took the plunge, and I think I'm going to love it.

I also have a hair appointment tonight.  The annual getting other fun colors added to my existing natural state appointment.  I only do it once a year or so, because it's expensive, but it's always fabulous.  Getting my hair done and being pampered at the salon I use is right up there with getting a massage for me.  So relaxing and it makes me feel beautiful and feminine.  (Plus, being able to treat myself well, without feeling guilty for it, was on one of my lists of goals for this year, so any appointment like this is a step in the right direction.)

And with that, I'm off to dive into the stuff the day will require.

Back later!

Daily 5 - Day 252

Today's Daily 5:

1. Coffee with a new friend today.  I love telling Jesus stories and this was a coffee (albeit one that was too short) full of them.
2. Back at house church tonight for the first time in about three weeks.  It was so good to be back.
3. laughing, eating, talking, sharing, and praying for and with each other
4. cuddling a baby
5. wearing my twirling skirt today
6. clean bill of health at the eye doctor (and I get to shop for new glasses!)
7. Having the freedom of a car to get myself to and from my appointment and house church and coffee date today
8. feeling like I am a welcome part of a community of believers again
9. Rob Bell teaching.  Really any Rob Bell teaching.
10. Filtered water.  I know I write this a lot, but I find myself incredibly thankful to have pure, healthy water readily available for drinking.

Eyes

I only arrived at the office about 40 minutes ago.

Today began a stream of yearly medical appointments that will occur off and on for the next week or two.

This morning was for my eyes.  It's time for new glasses again.  And, apparently, as I get older, when I'm not wearing my glasses, I have less control over my lazy eye.  This explains why it is now much more difficult to read when for one reason or other, I'm not wearing my glasses.

And so I'm here, with eyes rather sensitive to light, and an hour and a half of work time to make up over the next week or so.

But other than the fact that it is indeed time for a new pair of glasses, my eyes are apparently in good shape.

Which is good news - I'm rather attached to them.

I'm actually more cognizant of vision than ever.  Especially now.  I've spent parts of a few days this week searching for information on Alberta labor laws and the required adaptations necessary to accomodate disabled people.  Specifically blind people.  One of our staff members was told quite recently that they are most likely going blind.  And it's my job to find out what accomodations we're responsible to make for that, and how we can help her with that process.

So I'm grateful today, for another year's clean bill of eye health.  And I'm grateful to see... in so many ways.

Daily 5 - Day 250

Today's Daily 5:

1. 250 days of Daily 5's
2. 22 years of journeying with Jesus
3. 1 year of eating 3 meals a day
4. a treatment tonight from a new practitioner.  I'll definitely feel a bit more comfortable with this one, I think.
5. Wendys for supper with my dad
6. thinking about fun plans for the weekend
7. filtered water
8. having a car to drive
9. finished the "Stuff Christians Like" audiobook and found it hilarious.  Also started a new audiobook.
10. listened to a great sermon by Shane Hipps on the John 4 story of the woman at the well

Daily 5 - Day 231

Today's Daily 5:

1. An apologetic enmax employee on the phone - still didn't resolve the issues that have been going on for nine months, but at least she felt bad for how they had been handling the situation and was polite to me instead of rude like several of their employees have been.
2. Health treatment tonight (hoping it helps me sleep tonight too)
3. Chocolate
4. Laughing at a bad joke this morning.  (What do you call eight rabbits walking backwards in a row?  A receding hareline!)
5. Tray baked pork chops and roasted vegetables with apple for dinner tonight at Mom and Dad's

Morning Mood

With so little sleep, my already, less than a morning person nature is really getting a chance to shine.

I'm spending a good deal of time each morning reminding myself that those are "inside thoughts, Lisa.  Inside thoughts."

Sometimes it works, sometimes not so much.

I'm so tired that I fell asleep briefly on the bus yesterday afternoon.  That's pretty much unheard of - me sleeping in a public place.

I have a natural health treatment tonight.  Though I doubt he can do a lot about the nightmares, I'm hoping he can help at least a little with the sleep.

In the meantime, I'm working on my morning mood.  It ain't such a pretty thing!

Brownies for Breakfast

I slept pretty well, for me anyway, so it was surprising in those moments upon waking when I realized that I had a very bad headache, and that every muscle in my neck and back that I'd injured in the car accident and fall down the stairs, after a week or two of seemingly benign behaviour, had tightened painfully.

Ibuprofen and a heat pack are the order of the day as I sit in my office today.

And because I was feeling just a little bit miserable, I had brownies for breakfast.  With a cup of pomegranate green tea.  Because caffeine is supposed to be good for the headache, and chocolate eases most woes in life.

And with that, I have much to tackle today - hoping to have a day that is productive like yesterday, but demonstrably with checkmarks on my to do lists.

Start Again

By the time I went to bed last night, I was well and truly done.  Complete emotional and physical exhaustion.

My head is reminding me that I missed so many supplements yesterday, and that they make a huge difference in my ability to cope. 

My heart is reminding me that bad days happen, and that I can be gentle with myself and have a bad day (or several) without panicking that depression is returning.

That was a gift of insight that came over the weekend.  That the pulling inward and the self protection in the face of this hard transition are things I need to keep an eye on, but that having some really hard emotional days doesn't mean that depression is returning, and that I don't need to fear that pulling inward, those bad days.

It's sort of easier said than done.  But I'm trying.

At least I got a bit of sleep last night.  That I'm thankful for.

And our out of town staff is in the office this week, and the company is providing lunch for everyone - that's been nice too.

I visited with one of the wives of those staff members for a while this morning.  A sweet old colony Mennonite lady that I get to see once or twice a year.  It's always fun to chat with her.

This morning I managed to (mostly) set aside the things I've been worrying around in my mind the last few days while I was on the bus and focus on the worship music I was listening to.

So there are a few good things, and I'm choosing to focus on those.

Start again.

New mercies every morning.

That's what I'm reminding myself of.  And that's what I'm on the lookout for today.