Refresher Course

You've got to realize that you didn't get to this point over night, Jennifer. Remember where you've come from and what you said you needed to do to move on:

1. Daily goal or purpose.
Have something planned that I can look forward to or accomplish.

2. Stable meal plan.
Identify fall-back meals that I can quickly prepare no matter what my emotional state; continued check-ins with people about my daily progress.

3. Spiritual/creative expression.
Explore and establish ways to stay present, process emotions and divert my attention while fostering growth and positive self-image.

4. Flexible daily structure.
Plan times for meals, snacks and some self-care, balanced with appointments and tasks or work; maintain an awareness of everything I both need and want to do so that I have a clear picture of how it fits together in healthy way.

5. Reliable, trustworthy support team.
Expand my support team as necessary and appropriate to include new people; remain willing to listen to support team and trust that they will be willing to tell me the truth.


Remember the lessons you've learned. You worked so hard to uncover the truths, don't hide them or hide from them:

1. I can choose to be healthy or I can choose to live in dis-ease. The decision and responsibility are mine.

2. Relapse isn’t failure; it’s a chance to make changes.

3. An urge to lose any weight is my eating disorder.

4. I can’t afford to take short cuts in my recovery. They undermine the work that I’ve done and the strength that I’ve built.

5. Transitions are breeding grounds for self-doubt and eating disorder thoughts. Even when behaviors sneak in, I have the power to stop them. I have the power to break the cycle because I’ve done it before.

6. Trust my treatment team. They’ll tell me the truth, see obstacles long before I do and challenge me when I can best handle it. I need to listen to them and ask for help.

7. I must let go of the eating disorder. It might be familiar. It might be the closest thing to grasp for and the easiest thing to cling to, but in the end, if I don’t let go I’ll hang myself.

8. Focus on staying on my feet. If I do, I won’t have enough energy left to worry about falling. And should I fall, don’t reach for the eating disorder. Trust my support team. Trust my coping skills. Trust myself.

9. I may not always be convinced I can accomplish my goal, but I have to just do it. If I don’t, nothing will change.

10. Contradictory emotions can co-exist and they won’t kill me.

11. There is no emotion that I am not entitled to experience. And any emotion I do experience I can handle.

12. My meal plan is not a diet; it’s just a guideline to map my way through eating disorder territory.

13. I am strong beyond compare. I do amazing things.

I hate statistics

I was surfing for info on drug combinations for treating eating disorders and found at www.medical-journals.com, an article on Bulimia Nervosa by Philip S. Mehler, M.D. So I have a 51-58% chance of avoiding remission with my current treatment protocol. I hope I'm reading that wrong.

A combination of antidepressants and cognitive–behavioral therapy appears to be more effective in reducing the frequency of binging and purging than either treatment alone. A review using data from seven trials involving a total of 600 patients to assess the effect of antidepressants (desipramine, imipramine, or fluoxetine) plus cognitive–behavioral therapy as compared with the effect of one of these therapies alone reported average remission rates of 42 to 49 percent with a combination of therapies and average rates of 23 to 36 percent with any single therapy. As a single therapy, cognitive–behavioral therapy was more effective than drug therapy. Patients in whom this therapy fails may have a response to an alternative therapy, but available data suggest that the response rate is relatively low in this situation. In a study of patients in whom cognitive–behavioral therapy had failed, the rate of response to interpersonal therapy was 16 percent, and the rate of response to pharmacotherapy (fluoxetine or desipramine) was 10 percent.

Here we go again

I feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day.

Long weekend. Monday. Again.

My cats are driving me crazy this morning. I shut the office door and yelled at them to leave me alone. I wish there was a cat hotel nearby so they could enjoy a couple nights at the kitty spa and I could enjoy stillness sans fur.

I had a psychic reading on Saturday. I went to a Christian church yesterday. I don't think the two are mutually exclusive. And I want to know more about the Church of Religious Science. It's weird for me to say that...someone from Redondo Beach CA visits this blog and that location is somehow connected to that organization. Who are you?

I also want to avoid eating disorder behaviors until midnight tonight. And if the Divine Spirit could grant me the grace to avoid any liquor store until 9 p.m., I'd be grateful.

I've been going through photos and now there's a picture of my great-grandmother, Irene Schmidt, sitting next to this laptop. It was probably taken in the late '70s, the period from which I have the strongest memories of her. She's sitting at the dining room table, wearing a cotton, button-front house dress, a half apron and a sweater. I swear I can see tissue balled up in the cuff. I miss her. She had the best wrinkly skin, she grew African violets and she never served a lunch that didn't include sliced white bread and butter. She's my mother's mother's mother. I think I might look a little like her.

The thought for the day: What would Grandma Schmidt do?

Live or Die?

It's a daily decision. I AM NOT taking about suicide. Please understand this. I am NOT in imminent danger.

But I've realized this week that every morning, every meal, every minute presents a choice that I have to make and then accept responsibility for my decision.

Do I want to live, breathe, engage, be present, experience, feel, move into my humanity, accept the divine? Or do I want to die, wither, suffocate, give up, run, hide, sink into despair? Live or die?

I think I have to get rid of the distracting questions: do I want to eat...do I want to drink...do I want to purge...do I want to be happy, sad, pissed off, wounded...do I want to wallow. What do I want?

Honestly, the answers change. Sometimes within a split second. Sometimes the actions I engage in can both offer hope and gather despair. There is, I believe, very little difference between wanting to fully live and wanting to self-destruct. Maybe the really distinction is in whether you breathe in or out. Acceptance. Resignation.

Would I choose this place I am in? No. Can I accept it? I don't know. Do I want to change it? I think so. The indecision, the distraction, the desire for differentness...maybe that's the eating disorder...or the part of me that has been disordered for a lifetime. This lifetime.

I owe an email to a friend whose message to me really prompted this post. Her timing couldn't have been better. I'm grateful that not everyone has lost patience with me. I feel guilty and ashamed for asking for such latitude from everyone in my life. I can understand when people have had enough and decide to walk away from this. I know it's not me they are leaving. It's the situation. If I can decide: live or die: then maybe their own decisions won't have to be so definitive.

This second: I choose to live the best I can.

Food Shortage

So there's a food crisis. And for 99% of the world, that's bad news. Really, it's rather horrific when you think about it all. How can there NOT be enough food? How can we price it so high that it's unaffordable? How come a dozen eggs cost $2.59?

Here's where the guilt kicks in. Hey, I work hard at vomiting and avoiding perfectly good, already paid for food. In fact, I end up wasting a lot because I just don't get through all of it. Part of me thinks I'm going to eff up the world karma with my ED issues. There are starving children in Africa (and also about 6 blocks from where I live) and I am piggish, wasteful and ungrateful. And always have more than I need, want or deserve.

And now for a little deviousness...I will stop buying food that I would waste. In fact, for the next couple weeks, no grocery shopping. I'll eat what's in the house. I'll work my way through the jello cups, fiber cereal, tortilla wraps, SF jelly and celery. The freezer is stocked with entrees from DietTWOGodotCOM. (Bad idea. Still stuck with two weeks of high-fat, low-carb meals with scary calorie totals.) I even have a box of brown minute rice, so I won't have to stalk the Sam's Club aisles. See how my ED will help bring the world in balance?

I don't mean to be snarky about something as dire as world hunger, failing economies and mental health. But it's rather ironic, isn't it?

Hands of Grace

I had a 90-minute massage scheduled for today. It was the best thing I could have possibly done for myself.

The therapist I see is a talented, intuitive, sensitive soul whom I've come to trust completely. I've been very open with her about my weight issues, gains/losses, disorders, body image, etc. She has been so respectful of me, my space and my emotions from the beginning. Today she asked what I wanted. I told her that I trusted her and that she should do whatever work she felt necessary.

I think she tapped into some very primal emotions and states of being within myself. I recall calming, gentle touch...inexplicable fear and pain...comfort...release...withdrawal...contentment. When she had finished, it took a bit for me to come back to life. I felt nearly drugged. Exhausted. But somehow better. Clean. Not ashamed. Protected.

I sat for a bit in the quiet room, waking myself up and getting grounded. I purposefully stayed out after, walking into stores and trying to root myself in the present. But now I'm home. And I'm going to nap. I'm going to remember how frightened and then rescued I felt. If I could come back from that overwhelming anxiety and fear, then I can come back anytime.

I feel so blessed.

What a little nutrition won't do for a girl

I ate yesterday. In fact, I actually ate a meal in the evening. I forced the food in, mostly because I knew that I was treading in dangerous waters and restricting anymore would do considerable damage. But I also just was sick of being stuck.

I don't want to have all those screwy ideas and rules about eating. I don't want weight to control my life. I don't want my body image to determine my self worth. I'm just sick of it. I can also see how an eating disorder is so cunning that it makes you think it's all your idea.

So I said screw it. I ate a scone. I had a scoop of protein. I ate flax cakes. I ate an apple. I ate an andouille sausage and zucchini. And I didn't purge. Stayed right where I put it.

This morning, I ate cottage cheese and mandarin oranges. I work out at noon and will eat something before then. I can't promise big things. I won't. But I'll eat. If I don't eat, all those labs will just get worse. All my crazy thinking just is magnified. All my friends get pissed off at me because they don't understand how twisted this all makes me. That makes me sad. Sad because I can't explain what's happening. Sad because it affects their lives. Sad because I let myself feel like shit for letting their own issues rest on my shoulders.

If I could, I would change this all in a heartbeat. Who wouldn't? Why wouldn't I? I hate it when people assume I am doing this on purpose. I AM NOT. Today, someone chastised me for starting a new email account that focused on my eating disorder. Um. Not so. That email account has been active for 2 years...it's the one I log into this blog with. I just so happened to send an email from the address, not my personal correspondence one. Don't flippin' assume that everything I do is ED related.

I'm beginning to feel the stigma of this. People don't ask to be bipolar. People don't ask for lupus or MS or fibromyalgia. People don't ask for Crohn's or migraines or seasonal affective disorder. So why the hell would I ask this for myself? Just because someone doesn't understand it shouldn't mean their capacity for empathy is diminished. God. Now I'm getting angry. I'm not going there.

I'm looking forward to moving today during my workout. I have coffee with a friend after. Then an appointment. Tomorrow I booked a 90-minute massage session. Good things for me. Good things I deserve.

Why it's ok to be unemployed today...

The weather is nice. I put the cushions on my deck chairs. I am blogging from the backyard. If the rain holds off, I might build a fire tonight in the pit. I like burning things.

I struggle with filling my day with productive things. I'm not quite ready to jump into the work-search fray. Most of my social contacts were people I worked with. The kid I mentor doesn't get out of school until 4. My therapist recommended some kind of service work. I agree it would be a good thing. Does bagging 150 packages of baby carrots for Sunday lunch count?

I've taken to walking my yard, picking up debris, watching the green things poke through. It passes time. I could end up quite domesticated. Scary.

I'm ok

I'll be ok. I didn't call the people I was supposed to last night. I'm sorry. Today I have appointments. I'll be around...just busy.

I'd rather...

...be sitting on a warm, sandy beach than in my pig-sty living room.
...weigh 35 pounds less than what I do.
...have socks on instead of tennis shoes.
...have money to pay my mortgage and less worry.
...sleep than suffer.
...drink than eat.
...write than read.
...be quiet than talk.
...hide than huddle.
...stay lost than take the wrong path.

Whatever. I'm screening calls today. I have nothing to do until 9:15 tomorrow morning. My throat is raw and can't handle any solids. Thank god my replacement Tassimo machine showed up this morning. At least it's a day of lattes Can't be all bad.

WTF!?!

It CAN be all bad. The friggin' BRAND-NEW machine DOES NOT WORK. It did a great job of heating water. And then all lights blinked and died. It's going to be another three weeksbefore a new machine shows up. And I am pissed. I would have even put protein in a latte.

I want my therapist to call. I left a message on the emergency pager last nigt and haven't heard a thing. Either her partner is monitoring the message system and didn't think that I was desparate enough or my own therapist thought it could wait until tomorrow morning. And now it can't. And not just because of the coffee machine. Because of every other thing that is making my skin crawl and stomach churn and my heart ache. Because I hardly feel like I have enough energy to keep breathing all day.

In review

It's been a difficult week. Most friends and family have found that I'm not so communicative. I don't feel much like talking about what's going on. Don't feel much like blogging, either. My days are waves of highs and lows that sap all the energy from me. My sleep is shit. My body aches.

But every day is still another chance to make a new choice. At least I've woken every morning with that thought in my mind. Understanding the day's potential, my potential. And I suppose today is like all the rest since Monday. I just have hindsight now. See where my choices created the outcomes I desired...or didn't. Understand how I react in new, unsettling situations. Realize how far I've yet to go in dealing with familiar feelings and old triggers.

I've also struggled all week with the mess of pills I now must consume since my blood labs came back with such poor results. I've yet to have a day where I can get all the pills in. I take the one I'm supposed to take before a meal and then I don't have any room for food. Sadly, I realize that I am in this situation because of choices I've made for myself. So I really just need to tell myself to shut up and deal with it. Jen. Listen to yourself.

Morning Chores

I thought it was going to rain today. But it hasn't started yet. So to work out the sleeping pill hangover from last night, I threw on some clothes and went for a walk around the neighborhood. When I came back, I started raking in the yard. Yard chores were not my forte and I have no idea what's been planted in the dirt out there. So if it looked dead, it's gone.

Now, three hours later, my body is tingling, my muscles are burning and I realize that I spent a productive morning. I felt great to connect to the outdoors, diverting my attention from the head to the hands. I actually feel like I accomplished something. And still have half a day to go before my evening meeting.

Yesterday was a weird one for me. So today's practicality is a relief. Welcomed. Enjoyed. To be celebrated.

Part 2, Fat Fall-Out

I did binge last night. Around 2. I ate three protein bars. I didn't purge. I ate some other stuff, too. I just don't remember what. I went to bed and curled up in a ball of pain. Content to suffer. Happy ED.

This morning, I was overwhelmed by sadness. Sad about how I treated myself. Sad about the trigger. And ashamed...for saying I wouldn't binge, but did. I couldn't eat this morning. I did take some toddler cereal puffs to my therapy session. Just in case.

I spent the time talking about what happened, the ED reaction, the anger and shame and disappointment in the whole thing. But as I talked about, the pain changed. From searing hotness to bruised ache. Deep, green-gray and spreading.

I felt like I couldn't take on both the eating disorder restriction and the self-loathing at the same time. So I chose to be gentle to myself...to comfort myself as best I could...to distance myself from the trigger.

I let my ED go today. I've restricted. But I am not hating myself. I am not judging myself. I am not calling myself horrible names, spewing venom. And I'm certain it was the right choice. I gave up calories to salvage my self.

By the time I had to get ready for my going-away party tonight, I was able to dress without changing my clothes other than from my grubby stuff to the outfit I had preselected. I didn't spend long minutes examining the shape of my skin beneath the clothes. I felt good when I was done and I knew that I looked okay.

The party was fun...people actually showed up...everyone was gracious...my anxiety passed. Most important, this gathering was the perfect act of closure for me. I realized that I had make the very best choice for myself in taking the option I did. There's no way I could have gone back. Not yet. Maybe never. I felt confident that all would be well. I will be fine.

So how about that? I'm pleased with my ability to navigate the emotional waters and reach some sense of solid land by the evening. I've enjoyed the rest of the night quietly sketching some images from my morning's guided meditation. Thinking. Sketching other stuff. Writing this post. I'm okay. Maybe even a little bit happy.

"It looks like you've gained some weight"

Seven words that opened the door to terrible disordered thinking.

I woke up this morning, looking forward to seeing my nutritionist even though I'd had a few difficult spots that last week. I got dressed in new jeans and a blouse that was the perfect coloring for me. I put on make-up, picked out great jewelry. And when I looked in the mirror, I smiled at myself and told myself that I felt beautiful today.

After my appointment, I drove up to see my grandparents and stop at my folks' house to get some old pictures. While at my grandparents, I told them about what I've been up to lately, blah, blah, blah. I made a comment about candy. My grandpa asked if I ate candy. I told him I do, but not much. And he said:

"That makes sense then. IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'VE GAINED SOME WEIGHT."

That's when my brain shut off. Instant trigger. Immediate, uncontrolled ED thoughts. I KNEW he didn't mean it like a slam. Because I did hear him say, "You looked so skinny before, you look better now." Ok. He meant I look healthy now. He's old. He wouldn't hurt me. But the words stung.

I have not heard those words in almost three years. And they hurt 600 million times more today than when I really was fat and really had gained another 30 pounds in a month. The words came out of the blue and caught me so off-guard I couldn't stop the ED thoughts. Right away I felt 100 pounds heavier. I was worried that how I was sitting on the couch was showing fat rolls. I wondered if I really had gained weight and how the hell was I going to take it off.

I had brought a camera with me because, since I felt so good about how I looked in the morning, I wanted my mom to take a picture of me so that I can say "You felt beautiful when you looked like this." And maybe I'd see the beautiful me.

When I got to my parents' house, I did have my mom take a full-length photo of myself. When I looked at it, I saw FAT. I saw someone who probably weighs about 200 pounds. I saw ugly and failure and never-quite-good-enough.

I KNOW that I didn't change between 9 a.m. and 3 p.m. I had even touched up my lipstick! But how I saw myself was a 180 degree turn.

Since then, I have been MEAN and HORRIBLE to myself. While looking through family photos, I just saw fat girl at 1, fat girl at 2, fat girl at 3, fat girl at 4... I had hoped to look at the photos and see a happy girl in one or two pictures. I know she was smiling; I know she had to have been happy. All I could think, though, was that the poor girl was doomed to grow up to be a fat ugly slob.

Old tapes are running non-stop in my head, not even drowned out by Louise Hay's audio affirmations. Not even silenced by the smiles of my nieces. Mean. Mean. Mean. And nasty. Last week my ED therapist said that I'd never tell my 7-year-old self that she was fat. I shouldn't do it now. But I couldn't stop. I almost wanted to relive all that pain. How friggin' sick is that?

I understand that this is my eating disorder. I hate that it's there. I hate that it kidnapped me. I hate that even when I try to make it go away, it is stronger than I am tonight. In my head. I haven't binged. I haven't purged. I am toying with restricting, but I won't do that.

Sunday I started this new thing where I write an affirmation down on a large desk calendar in the morning and then in the evening, I have to write at least 3 good things that I did for myself during the day. Sunday was stellar. Monday...even though it's technically Tuesday morning, I have no idea what to write that's positive about how I treated myself today. I feel like all the negative self-hatred has cancelled out the care I put out this morning. That's not true. It just how I think right now.

Thankfully I see my therapist in the morning. I hope I wake up in a better place than where I am now. I hate it. I resent it. I need to direct that at the eating disorder and not myself. I get that. However, the ED keeps slinging it back and I'm feeling beaten down.

This won't last forever. I know that I can snap out of it. I realize that this is temporary. And I know that, no matter what my eating disorder tells me, I really did feel beautiful at one time today.

Reality Check

Therapy yesterday. Thoughts today.

I shared with my therapist some thoughts I had on a comment she'd made the week before when we were talking about scheduling appointments during eating times. I heard her comment that she didn’t look like someone who had to worry about not eating lunch.

My head interpreted this that if she thinks she doesn’t have to worry about eating, then I shouldn’t have to worry about eating. What my ED heard was that she thought she didn’t need to eat because her body was too big. How I interpret that is that if she thinks her body is too big, then she must think mine is huge, because I think I am much larger than her.

So I brought this up yesterday. I was a bit ashamed to do so. It was like admitting I was comparing myself to her. And I don't really sit there doing that during our sessions. But I do compare myself to nearly anyone I see.

She explained what she meant by her comment: that she eats appropriate amounts of food at appropriate times to take care of her. And then we talked about size perception. She's a couple inches shorter than me. I think we're about the same age. I know I'm a size 12. (I hate typing that FAT number.) She asked me what I thought would be the normal size...6 or 8 of course. She asked me what size I thought she was...probably an 8 or 10. And then she told me that she's a size 14. She even offered to show me the tags in her clothes when I was incredulous about her response.

I told her that I felt so BIG compared to her. I wished I looked as good as she did. I see just fat when I look down at myself. When I look at her, I see a very shapely, attractive woman. I want to look like that.

She told me that to her I look skinny. That my bones show in my hands and wrists, in my cheeks, on my collar. And they do, that I see. But those are just snippets of me...not the whole picture.

So today I'm just trying to wrap my head around the whole exchange. How is it that she is a larger size than me (and comfortable wearing multiple sizes when she must) and still look so much thinner? How do I see the real me?

I hate that this body image crap lingers. I wish I had a talking mirror of honesty that would report exactly what I look like. I wish I knew that I was acceptable to other people...maybe that would make me acceptable to myself. I don't know. I'm hiding from mirrors today.

Things on my mind

Early lab results came in from blood work done Wednesday. My surgeon's office called and my ferretin is squeaking in pretty low. Too low. Waiting to hear the rest of my results. How much of the problem is the gastric bypass and how much is the eating disorder behavior.

Slept crappy last night. Slept on the couch. Binged at 1 a.m. on 9 100-calorie packs of pepperidge farm cookies and some dumb chocolate thingy you nuke. Didn't purge. Felt it would be more appropriate to punish myself by letting the 1,050 calories sit uncomfortably inside of me.

Having to elderly women from Church over for coffee at 9. Sweetest ladies...but I have got to make sure the house is spotless.

Going to the Quilt Show in Chicago on Saturday. My mom's a quilter. I love mixed media and enjoy the art quilts. I think I need a sewing machine.

Trying to plan a vacation. I have a free airline ticket on Midwest and a gazillion points to use from my timeshare. Where should I go?

I feel like restricting today. But I'm going to choose not to.

Little depressed. Sad. Glad for my day's agenda. Scared.

Sitting

I'm taking inventory of my feelings tonight, letting myself sit in them...choosing to feel instead of engaging in ED behaviors.

I am sad. I'm also glad. And I'd be fooling myself if I didn't come clean with feeling scared, ashamed.

No need to explain the feelings, just know that they are there. Accept they are mine. Understand that they will not destroy me. Nor will I destroy myself with ED behaviors trying to cope with the emotions.

This is not easy. It's work. It's patience. It's learning. It's what I've got to do.

New Chapter

Anybody need a professional writer, editor or project manager? I'm for hire!

A couple weeks ago my work position was eliminated. (I had lost FMLA protection in mid-February.) Late last week I was offered three options: job, job and severance. Both jobs were well below my capabilities and my salary requirements. And both would have presented their own unique challenges.

So I decided to take the severance. Free agent. Scared to death and sad beyond belief.

I love my company and have worked there since June 99. I have missed the people the last few months. And now I miss the title. The security. The purpose.

What to do? Breathe in the moment, relax into the body. Realize that some circumstances have been beyond my control (and I've had to learn to live with that) and also know that this is MY decision. If I complain, there's no one to blame but myself. I honestly, though, feel like this is the right move. And if not? I'll figure that out later.

For now, I have to focus on today. Sticking to my meal plan. Making my appointments. Checking in with friends. It can't be different than any other day in my life. I'll remind myself over and over until it's true: I do amazing things. Maybe this is one of them

Sugar Coated

Didn't that last post sound so sweet, so cheery, so up beat and full of hope? It ended up being a crappy night. The ED is slamming me hard the last couple days. I think I wrote that post in hopes of it leaving me the hell alone. It didn't.

I've purged three times since Wednesday. I fight restricting to avoid binging that I want to do after purging when I restrict. Each instance has been tied to a specific emotional event that for some stupid reason I insist on coping with by means of ED behavior.

Today I've fought nonstop. From when I "woke up" at 4:30 a.m. (in quotes, since I hardly fell asleep), through lunch with a friend, through afternoon shopping, through a munchy meal of peanut butter, smoked turkey and wasa bread, right up until now. 9 p.m. CST. I should have another "meal" tonight, but my excuse is that I have heartburn. This is something new. I haven't had heartburn since August 26, 2005, the morning of my gastric bypass surgery. I'm sure I've brought this on myself by retching.

So what does this all mean? I guess, it proves that every single day for the rest of my life--or each moment, were I to live in the present as I preach--I have to wrestle with this eating disorder. No rest for the wicked or whacked.

I'm not being hard on myself. Just realistic. Accepting that responsibility. Choosing to 'fess up rather than fail.

Tomorrow's a new day. Tonight, it's just not so sweet.

Doing it in the Dells

Ah, Wisconsin's waterpark wonderland, where Ducks roam through the icy waters and adults like me feel trapped in a cyberwilderness. Wi-Fi? Why, no! Cell phone reception? No bars for this babe. But it's all ok. I'm sitting in a SBUX with a quad iced espresso and complimentary internet access courtesy of AT&T. All's well.

My folks have a condo for the week. I came up Thursday, will leave early Saturday. Today was an exceptional shopping day, including purchases at Coach and The Gap, as well as Easy Spirit and Coldwater Creek. Shopping always makes me happy. Well, almost always. Today's been a good body day so trying on clothes wasn't too traumatic.

All in all, I've weathered week one sans program quite well. Definite potholes along the way, but nothing that swallowed me up. I got some news today that has the potential to really through me for a loop. But I know that. I can see it coming. I can choose if I step into the loop or not.

Choice. I never realized how important it was to me. Maybe because I never accepted responsibility for it, understood how empowering it is. Now I do.

I'm beautiful, damnit!

Great day today. Good food. Invigorating workout. Lovely new haircut. I'm liking me today. I especially like the devil horns in my hair and the touch of dark brown to go with the raspberry and white. It's hard to take a decent picture of yourself.

Today's Challenge

I realize that today could be bumpy for me, mostly because of plans for tomorrow. And because of something that come up last night.

So today, I am focusing on JUST today. Only today. This very second as my heart pumps, my fingers tingle (from sleeping on them), my intestines gurgle (hunger, I think) and my head feels light. Light because I am releasing the worry, the fear, the anger. Light because I have no need for any of that this very moment.

Today I will nourish my body with foods I enjoy, with foods that fuel m. Today I will respect my body by treating it as beautiful and doing things to honor that. Today I will be grateful for this vehicle of skin and water and blood and bone that carries my soul. Quietly. Today.