Category Archives: life lessons

whole30, day 13: restricted

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The Whole30 is rigid and inflexible.

I love it.

Left to my own devises I have very little self control. I mean, I have some. I lost twenty pounds via counting calories. That’s all about control. But I’m discovering more and more that I need clear-cut boundaries in order to succeed. I am very task-oriented and don’t do well with abstract concepts like “clean your room” or “eat healthy food.” I need straightforward instructions, such as “dust the dresser” and “don’t eat dairy.”

I am operating well within the confines of the Whole30 regiment, though there have been some slip ups with less than desirable bodily consequences (dairy: gas; donuts: heartburn; wine: no effect. Woohoo!). I gave into temptation and I’m glad for it; it turned off the little voice in my head that told me I would feel better if I ate it.

Better than what? First of all, I felt pretty great as I was. Second of all, I do not consider tooting for the duration of the day “better.” I do not consider heartburn “better.” Eating the processed food turned the voice off, but I felt worse, physically, than I had in a week. It wasn’t worth it but I learned from it. I’m kind of glad that I cheated, all things considered. It absolutely took away the temptation to do it again and it gave me a look at how far I’ve come in such a short amount of time.

whole30, day 9: click, click, click

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Yesterday, through a series of link-clinking, I found a blog called Radical Hateloss. I clicked around some more and found a post called “The Problem With Skinny & Fat.” I read the following exerpt and I felt something inside my chest click. Metaphorically. I understood.

The problem with skinny and fat is the belief that those bodies will either bring satisfaction or push it away. Your body isn’t what makes you sad, and a different body will never make you happy.

What makes me sad isn’t the fact that I think my stomach is too pudgy or my arms wobble; what makes me sad is the fact that I think that because my body does these things I am not worthy of love so I must change. It makes me sad that when I try to change those things I cannot, so I get more upset and start eating more. It’s a fairly fucked up cycle, and one that has repeated itself many, many times.

I want my body to be healthy. I know that I’m heading in the right direction because I can feel it. My clothes fit better; I’m more clear headed and alert; I sleep better; I don’t get so tired after taking the dog for a walk. My body is losing the weight it has carried around for years because of the crap that I’ve shoveled into it. It’s recovering from years of smoking, drinking, overeating, and eating shitty food. This recovery will not happen over night.

I want to push myself. I want to exercise because it is fun and good for me, not because it is some form of punishment. I will use what I have been given and not wish for something else. I will nourish myself with foods that haven’t been overly processed, though I will absolutely enjoy cheesecake when the occasion calls for it. I understand this more acutely than I ever have before. I have never been more aware of my body than I am right now. I know that it sounds like I have smoked a bunch of pot and stared at my naked self for four hours, but I think that everything I’ve read and experienced about exercise and eating well and the effects of bad food on the body have culiminated into this moment. I think my paradigm has shifted in such a way that I will not look at myself the same way again. That’s a good thing.

whole30, day 1: my story

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I was a happy sort of fat. I grew quickly when I was young, and by age 13 I was the tallest I was ever going to be. This was a curse in middle school: always at the back of the class during pictures, always paired with the tall, strange boys with peach fuzz facial hair. Boys did not like me, and those who did were neither interested nor courageous enough to say anything about it. I quickly realized that I had the gift of being funny, and if I couldn’t make these boys want to kiss me, I could at least make them laugh.

I didn’t mind, really. I had a great group of friends and we did many things together, so it wasn’t like I was some chubby social outcast. I wasn’t. I wasn’t even really overly chubby until college, which is when “chubby” became just a polite way of saying “fatter than average, but not point-and-stare fat.” There are definitely degrees of fatness. I know what I’m talking about here.

Fast forward half a dozen years to present day. I’m still fattish (I’ve got a BMI of 31.6, which is technically obese, and I wear a size 14 pant, which is the national average [not a lot to be proud of, but whatever]) but not unattractive, married, and unsatisfied with myself. I’ve lost twenty pounds by way of counting calories, but still feel unhealthy. I have acne, terrible acid reflux, trouble sleeping, fuzzy-headedness, and a general lack of energy. My once roller-coastery periods are more normal thanks to the recent weight loss, so that’s a start, but there has to be more. I do not want to take a zillion medications to be healthy. It has to be simpler than that.

Enter Whole30. I do not know how I found it and I guess that’s not important. For the next thirty days, my husband and I will be doing this program. We will fill our plates with fresh fruits and vegetables, lean protein, and healthy fats. I will record my findings right here with the hope that this helps reset my attitude towards food and what I find to be delicious. I’m optimistic but not naive. Twenty-seven years of bad habits isn’t going to go away in thirty days, but I have to start somewhere.

affirmative

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I was in a pretty dark place the past few weeks, specifically with regard to adoption. Maybe dark is the wrong word. I was in a dimly-lit place. And there was pointy furniture everywhere that I kept ramming my shins into. Maybe there scary noises involved. My point: I was overwhelmed and not the most positive person. We had met with two agencies (one domestic, one international) and were no closer to deciding how to go about procuring a baby as when we first began.

And the money! And the time! I felt so outnumbered by the variety of factors that stood in our way. Should we sign with an agency? Should we adopt from Korea? Should we just wait a little longer to see if Jason’s sperm comes back? Is that a viable option or am I just in denial? Pregnancy had to be better than what we were going through. I could barely talk about adoption without dissolving into a puddle of tears.

Then I met Alyson. Our meeting was spontaneous and random, and we crammed more adoption talk into five minutes than I’ve ever talked about with my friends. She got what I was going through–all the frustration and negative feelings and high hopes–and it was a relief to not have to explain everything. It felt kind of affirming, like I was supposed to meet this woman for whatever reason.

I still get asked how adoption is going, and the answer is that there is no answer. We’re still in a holding pattern: waiting to choose an agency, saving money in the mean time. In the same breath, we’re enjoying our child-free lives. I will never take these days for granted. As much as I want to have children, I know that we’re not meant to have them right now. And that’s becoming more and more okay every day.

getting it back

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I just don’t have it in me lately. I don’t want to write or count calories or do anything, really. I’ve fallen behind on my Bible reading plan, missed a daily photo, haven’t kept up on blogs at all, and have absolutely no motivation. I’m just not feeling it.

Whatever “it” is. Motivation? Willingness? Drive?

I have been wondering if there is a nutritional component to my down-in-the-dumps attitude lately. I’m not overly sad or depressed, but rather a pensive sort of melancholy that I can’t seem to shake. Maybe it’s what I’m eating. I don’t want to get all froo-froo sciency, nor am I any sort of nutritional expert, but I fully believe in the correlation between good foods and a good attitude. When I was counting calories before I only had a number in mind: 1200. I could eat whatever I wanted as long as I stayed around 1200 calories. That belief that I could eat whatever I wanted nestled in my brain and kind of stuck there. I think this is why I haven’t gained weight, despite not counting calories. After three months I know how much a tablespoon of olive oil is and how many calories it has; I know how to modify sweet foods so they don’t have so many calories; I know how often I have to eat in order for my body to feel full.

That doesn’t necessarily mean I’m eating correctly. I ate vegetables and fruit, but also lots of pasta and bread and starchy vegetables. And lots of sugar. Sugar is in pretty much everything and I’m slowly realizing that I’m kind of a sugar addict. Sure, it’s in cookies and cake and bread, but it’s also in many dairy products, salad dressings, cereals, and condiments.

I’m thinking that a dietary change is in order. I’m thinking that when I eliminate certain foods from my diet that I will be able to see results not just in my physical body, but in my mental state as well. That’s what I’m hoping, at least. I want to be more focused and more mentally balanced. There are some things in my life that are frustrating and overwhelming, but I will try whatever I can conceivably try to stave off an overtly negative attitude.

things to think about before getting a puppy

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If I had read this list before getting a puppy it probably wouldn’t have changed my mind at all because, well, PUPPY, so I know that no one will really find this list by Googling “things to think about before getting a puppy.” There is nothing thinking about anything before getting a puppy. People will say “Think about this!” or “Just so you know…” and it will go in one ear and out the other, because, well, PUPPY.

Here are some lessons I’ve learned over the past three months. When you do cave to the cuteness of a puppy, come back and look at this list three months afterwards. Everything I say will ring true, and you will think “If only I had listened!” BUT YOU DIDN’T SO YOU DESERVE IT. But not really. I don’t blame you. Puppy cuteness hypnotizes even the most well-meaning among us.

You will get bitten. A lot. The dog bit me consistently for a good two and a half months. I had bruises everywhere: stomach, arms, legs, feet, and hands. It was puppy biting but he wouldn’t stop and always wanted to play, so my skin bore the brunt of his determination. If you are going to get a puppy, get one without teeth.

Speaking of teeth: the puppy will lose his teeth all at once. Hurley lost his teeth over the span of a week. It started one afternoon when he and Jason were playing tug and Jason noticed the rope was bloody. It freaking him out because he thought he was playing too rough with the dog, but no! The dog was just losing his sharp little dagger teeth! He would do this thing where he would chew on my arm, but it was differently than the other times he tried to bite it off. It seemed like he was using my arm to force his loose teeth out of his head and hey! That’s exactly what the hell he was trying to do! Thanks for the bloody arm!

Big dogs = big poops. Even though they are puppies, big puppy poops are bigger than small puppy poops. Plan accordingly.

They are cutest when they are sleeping or doing the little head tilt or otherwise staying still. I have called my dog every name in the book, from “STUPID MOTHERFUCKING DOG” to “a precious little angel of adorableness.” The more life-affirming names come when he is sleeping, all curled in a little ball of fluff right next to me. The more adult names were reserved for times when he was biting me or zooming everywhere or barking for no discernible reason.

Dogs bark. This, like every other thing on the list, varies by individual dog. If you enjoy peace and quiet and order in your life, do not (I repeat: DO NOT) get a puppy. Apparently dogs can be trained to not bark, but I have tried everything short of clipping his vocal cords and he persists with the barking.

They will destroy everything they see if it’s on their level. If you do not want your puppy to chew your shit into oblivion, get it off the floor. We used to have our laundry in a regular laundry basket, but have since moved it into a closet because the dog would not leave the socks alone. By keeping our clothes on the ground near him we were setting him up for failure. Sure, he had to learn boundaries, but it was up to us to make sure he could successfully reach those boundaries. Also I was tired of my socks being holey. He still gets into things–he particularly loves the remote control–but has calmed down a lot since he’s gotten older.

They will grow out of it. The biting, the chewing, the rambunctious running around ALL OF THE TIME WILL YOU PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF CHEESE JUST STOP… it will all calm down one day. We got Hurley when he was three months old and he is now seven months old. I can say with absolute confidence that I thought about giving him away about four thousand times. I remember a very vivid conversation I had while on the phone with the PetSmart trainer: I was calling to sign him up for obedience classes and he was jumping and biting and barking and running, and I was sobbing. The woman on the other end of the phone, completely used to this type of phone call, I suppose, laughed. Clearly she had no idea how terrible my life was. That’s the only reason I can come up with for her to have laughed at my misery. But no. She laughed because she had been there. She had been to that place where she would have left her dog on a corner in a dangerous part of town with no hesitation. She had been there, begging her dog to just sleep, to quit biting, to just lay the hell down for two seconds so she can poop in peace.

I’m glad I didn’t give up on the dog. He’s (more or less) a joy. He still has his moments of getting on my stinking nerves, but I’m so thankful I dug deep into the center of myself and had the patience to stick it out. He was worth it.

Is there anything I’ve missed?

the two week break

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I have gained two pounds in the last two weeks and haven’t quite mustered up the motivation to start counting calories again. I’m living my life the way an “after” would, though I’m clearly a “before.” Hence the weight gain.

Something I noticed when I wasn’t counting calories was how, most of the time, I made an okay choice. I rarely gorged, I ate salad (it was with a slice of pizza, but hey! Salad!), we exercised (snowboarding, walking around Redwood National Park, ice skating). Obviously I didn’t make the greatest of choices (cough cough, caramelandwalnutapple cough, cough) but I’m okay with the weight I did gain. Maybe.

I feel different. I’ve read a zillion blogs and magazine articles and books that say that if one eats like shit, one tends to feel like shit. I never realized how unshitty I felt over the last three months until maybe about a week ago, when I felt really blah. I felt like my old self, which is a phrase people use to denote a renewed sense of energy and mirth, though I’m using it to let you know that I felt bloated and gross.

I felt like that because I had been eating salty, fatty foods. Lesson: learned. Crap begets crap. It’s not that I shouldn’t eat anything salty and fatty–they are delicious!–but perhaps eating them four nights in a row is pushing it a wee bit. A very big wee bit.

* * * * *

I added some resolutions to the navigation bar! Did you make resolutions this year? I hope so. Lists are so fun.

snowboarding

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I’ve been saying I wanted to try snowboarding since I moved here. Every winter I would declare that I would try it, and that winter would pass without me hurling myself down a mountain. This happened every year for the past four years.

This year was different.

It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever done. Everything in me wanted to stop myself from being propelled down a hill sideways. I fell a lot, not because I couldn’t balance (I am a great balancer) but because it felt so unnatural to be snowboarding. Going quickly! Over snow! Outside! With no brakes! Better fall over or risk dying!

I got a private lesson from a snowboarding instructor and I cannot recommend doing that highly enough. I learned how to stop (which resulted in many strained groin muscles) and how to get up (which was awkward because one of my feet was strapped firmly in the board) and how to turn around frontwards (which was never successfully completed without falling over) and how to turn backwards (which was successfully completed once, but then I got excited and fell over).

We spent an hour on a flat, snow-covered piece of land right next to the bunny hill. I fell a lot. I got up even more. That’s what surprised me.

I was never big on trying new things because I didn’t want to fail. This led to me not doing much of anything. The first time I fell I fully expected to think “Fuck this” and head back to the lodge for some grown-up hot chocolate. But I didn’t. I fell pretty immediately and got back up again, undaunted and, most surprising of all, still wanting to try. Over and over again I fell and every time I kind of braced myself for the “fuck this, I’m done” thought, but that thought never came. I would fall and get back up to do it again. “Are you ready for a break?” the trainer would ask, and I would answer “Just once more.”

WHO THE HELL AM I.

I don’t know if I loved it. I’m writing this on Sunday and even though it’s 9 p.m. I can still barely move. I don’t know if I’ll ever do it again, but I take pride in the fact that I did it at all. I tried something new and didn’t die! Remarkable.

capitulation

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Sometimes Jesus changes a person instantly. When Paul (named Saul, at the time) met Jesus on the road to Damascus, he was changed dramatically: he didn’t eat and couldn’t see for three days. He was baptized within a week of seeing the Lord and went on to do great things and change the lives of many people. This happens over and over again in the Bible: people meet Jesus and are instantly changed; the bonds of their former selves are cast away and they are made new. They have new attitudes and new worldview.

Sometimes Jesus works a little slower. In my case, much slower. Or maybe it’s not so much Jesus that’s taking his sweet ass time, but myself. I am very, very reluctant to give my life over completely. I shut out certain aspects because to change completely is uncomfortable, and I am quite comfortable right now. I like going to church every Sunday and I enjoy my small groups on Tuesday, and while there is a part of me that wants to be more involved, I’m kind of scared that I’ll be asked to do something out of my comfort zone, like start a church in Antarctica or pray out loud.

I am continually in a struggle with the thought that my resources aren’t my own; all that I have is from God. It’s become a cliche to say, but recently I was struck by what that really meant and how it applied to my life. My marriage is the Lord’s; my money and time are the Lord’s; this life that I’ve been given… that’s the Lord’s, too. I feel like I’m wasting it.

I care a lot what other people think. That holds me back from really living. If I blog too much about Jesus then people will stop reading. If I let myself be transformed then I won’t be able to go to bars anymore. If I listen to the little voice in my heart then I will have to sell everything I have and move to Dubai. The common thread of my doubts is lack of trust. I don’t trust that God will provide for me despite evidence of the contrary all around me.

The next three days of posts will be about areas of my life I want to surrender to God’s will. That’s what capitulate means: surrender. I struggle very much with all three of these things, and I hope to gain some insight by writing it all down.

jacket

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Me: Should I get a bright color or just black? The blue will be easier to spot if there’s an avalanche, right?
Jason: Yes it would.
Katie: As opposed to the black against the white snow?
Me: I’m afraid the rescuers would think it’s a bear and shoot me.
Katie: Logical. That makes a lot of sense.
Me: I don’t fuck around with nature.

As a general rule I do not participate in sports, though winter sports have piqued my interest since I moved here a few years ago. I’ve always wanted to go snowboarding but was too afraid of falling. After many conversations with Jason and Katie assuring me that I would most definitely fall but should do it anyway, I decided to give it a go. When Garrett and Emily were discussing coming out here over winter break (Emily is a teacher, so their vacation had to be planned around her schedule) I thought it would be great if they went snowboarding, too. Mostly so I wouldn’t be the only one that had never been before. If I was going to look like a dumbass, they were too.

That’s what makes me such a good sister.

Which brings us to the conversation above. The last time I bought a good winter jacket I weighed a solid 35 pounds more than I do now, so I was required to find a new winter coat that actually fit to make sure I wouldn’t freeze to death on the mountain. The hardest part of choosing a jacket was deciding on a color. I eventually landed on a bright blue, which would be easy to spot from a rescue vessel (unless I was in the water somehow which I didn’t think of until just now). I would like to thank Back Country for being great and matching the price of the same jacket I saw on a different website, as well as offering free shipping. According to the email I should receive my new jacket on Friday, a mere two days after I ordered it. Hopefully that’s the case. I need some time to practice my tactical avalanche escape moves while I’m wearing it, just in case.