BLE: parts work during the holidays

 This morning another Bright Lifer posted a memory from her FB feed that really struck home for me. It was a Drew Carey quote,  "Eating crappy food isn't a reward -- it's a punishment." And while this has been said many ways in slightly different forms by many others, for some reason these particular words were like an arrow to my heart.

Because I do think that part of my eating is punishing myself, keeping myself from being happy. Because I do feel that I have done horrible things, and often at the end of the countless discussions I've had with myself about whether or not to eat something, the bottom line is that it doesn't matter because really I don't care about life anymore.  Or that I don't deserve to be anything other than what I have become. That I am the result of my past actions.

I took a hard look at myself this morning and am proud to say I don't believe that anymore. If I have self inflicted blame for the parts of my life I am ashamed of, haven't I paid enough already? Isn't it about time I let myself out of jail? 

So I will use that question today if faced with a food decision, 'Why do I want to punish myself?" I have known my whole life that I am a 'good' person at heart, at my very core, and that the times I fell short would easily be explained away by others as me just being being human. Or some such rationale. The latest shortcoming revolves around the death of my son. That I didn't model a better example, that I wasn't there for him while he was struggling in school. That I divorced his father. Just writing these things makes me so sad, and tearful, and full of regret. But it will have been 17 years this coming February, and living a small sad life in no way serves his memory. I know that.

The great thing about parts work is that I can now feel these feelings, and let them wash over me, consume me even, and know that it's temporary. And that once they are gone I will still be here, and that I will not be destroyed.  It's sort of like the 'Litany against fear' in the Dune saga, but I can substitute Grief for Fear.  " And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see it's path. Where the grief has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."  But more than that, hopefully I can reach the part of me that has remained moored in the grief, and give her some love and compassion. Maybe even do some healing.

This morning I have hope for a great holiday season. For maybe even some golden sunset years if I can keep doing the work.

BLE and Grief

I'm still a little emotional this morning, but thinking about my grief yesterday I realized that maybe this is why I haven't been very bright recently. I have been so caught up in anger about being sick (just a really bad cold) and not being able to follow through on my plans to move South, I assumed those were the feelings I have been eating.  But often in September I start eating more, like a bear preparing for the winter, except I am ramping up for the desolation of another 9/24 without Joey.

And I am grateful this morning to BLE for teaching me about creating space between thoughts and things. About the power of the pause, and being able to just sit with my emotions of the moment without running from them. I've never felt like I was eating my feelings, but rather eating to run away from them. I guess it's all really the same thing. But the past few years I have not played the pity card, telling myself it's okay to indulge in eating anything I want because, "look at what you've lost". Instead I have tried to stay Bright, tried to put on bunny slippers and rest and watch good movies.

We don't usually speak about him on his Birthday, it's just too hard! Instead we had a tradition of having dessert; malted ice cream sundaes from Lord's, or trips to Cold Stone or Baskin Robbin's, always last minute plans because we just don't want to think about it. Really what I am saying is that we didn't want to feel about it, and procrastinated until the end of the day where we would bury those feelings in sugar.

Yesterday I emerged from my self imposed exile (keeping  my germs to myself) as the family was leaving for their almost daily trip to the dog park and looked at my daughter. "Half of me wants desert for Joey's Birthday, and half of me doesn't!"  She simply said, "well text me if you want us to stop for something".  She knows of my battles with food, and does bright line eating during the day most of the time. There was no judgement, no opinion, just love; she is the best.

I immediately calmed down, and knew I really didn't want the desert, I just wanted to say his name out load. To reaffirm that he is real, and loved, and missed. So I am still sitting with the pain today instead of eating it, and in a weird way it feels good. Because I know that when this burning pain in my throat passes, and it will, I will be ever so grateful that I am in a place that can appreciate that missing him is a part of my human experience. That I am not trying to hide my love for him under a mountain of sugar or flour, but instead I am expressing it through my feelings of grief.

Time to dry off these tears, hug the dog, and find a quiet little distraction.

Happy 39th

 Happy Birthday, Joey. I still hold so much love in my heart for you, and often find myself wishing that your next adventure is/was a good one. Better than what you found here. Better than the harsh hand you played while with us. And I cry to think of how we all might have struggled had you not left when you did, because to think of you having stayed and found a way to thrive is just too heartbreaking.

I still dream of you sometimes, not as often as I would like, but enough to remember you in every detail. And I will just sit here for a moment in this pain, missing you, and being a little mad at the universe. Because what else can I do?

I'll be okay tomorrow, because that too is how it has to be. To just go on, and try to be here for your sister and Cal and Alan. I love them so much, thank heavens or I probably wouldn't still be here waiting around. Which in itself is a rather sad thought, but ultimately true.  

Wherever you are, take it easy, and know we are loving you.

Reflections on a day without Joey

Today is fifteen years since my son passed, and while of course  mostly I was sad, it was not shadowed with severe guilt and blame as it has been in past years. Instead my grief is accompanied by just a little regret; that I hadn't noticed sooner and helped him more as a small child; that I hadn't paid closer attention as he entered school; and that I was at a place in my own life where I was unable to help him despite how I tried. Because I do need to acknowledge that I did try, in many ways and many times, to reach out and help. With school, with addiction, with home.

So I sat in the back yard feeling lucky that I had another little boy to help raise, Cal there at my side digging away in his sand box on an unseasonably sunny day. I relaxed into the warmth of the sun, and enjoyed the breeze that was not too chilly. I listened for birds, and spoke to Joey about how much he would love seeing his niece and nephew growing strong in the same house he was raised. Wondering how they would interact, wondering if he would even be around to notice.

As my thoughts turned morose I quietly moved them aside and went back to enjoying the sun and the sound of Cal burying his fingers in sand to miraculously find them again a moment later. For those moments I was content. He went for treatment this morning and it was good to see him playing quietly. We had attempted to go for a walk, but we barely made it around the corner before we had to turn back, his hand on his belly and his head down. So we dug in the front yard a bit looking for treasure, did some laps in a scooter up and down the driveway, then made out way to the back yard for rock hopping, throwing balls around, and finally settling in; me in my chair to rest and him standing at the sand box next to me while we spoke of dinosaurs, birds, and squirrels. It was perfect.

Now it's time to go to 'work', and I will be glad of the distraction. There have been very few tears today, as I try to focus on the positive, and be grateful for having Joey as long as I did. I am also grateful for the sounds from the kitchen as R makes dinner for her family. These past fifteen years would have been impossible without her.

Sending love out into the cosmos, for all those we love and miss.

BLE: Bright Nights, Joey, and Cal

And then there were five. Or, at least there will be once I stay Bright tonight. And I can feel it coming. Even with chocolate cake sitting on the kitchen counter, I know it's not for me, and that I will have another Bright night. There is a quote shared on my bootcamp Facebook page today, that is apropos to how I am feeling just now. " I am learning to love the sound of  my feet walking away from things not meant for me." I made a weak attempt to find the origins of this, but was overwhelmed by the images - this is obviously popular and I am not alone in having it ring truth to power. Funny that it took so long to make it's way into my arena of influence.

Our master mind group this morning was...wonderful? Enlightening? It's such an incredible experience to learn that we share so much in common, coming from such diverse back grounds to arrive here on similar paths. Of course, food is our path apparently, to do the work towards enlightenment. Or some such. And it's our struggles with eating that have brought us to this inner-work, and so a shout out to Bright Line Freedom and Susan B Thompson for throwing out the signposts to get us to the point.

This morning I spoke a bit to the group, just a little, about how this coming week will mark another anniversary since Joey passed. Passed on, passed through ... just gone from his human experience, and from our lives. And finally I am able to say truthfully that I will not let losing him mean that I will lose myself too. I'm sure I'm misquoting someone horribly, but you get the gist. I can no longer hide under the guilt, I can no longer use it as shield between myself and living a worthwhile life. Maybe it's the sugar/flour brain cloud lifting that is helping me to see more clearly, and letting me release the idea that I was somehow responsible for his death so early in his life. Early on I would try to comfort myself by telling the story that this was just his path, that he had learned what he came here to experience and was moving on. But I was never able to let go of the feeling that I had played a part; that I had failed as his mother. I should have been more aware, and done more to protect him. 

And while I still feel that is true, I also know I did the best I could, loved him the best I knew how, and tried to be there for him as he struggled on his way.  But for years I had a story rattling around in my head, that I was unworthy of anything, and didn't care about anything. And now I know that this story was just that, a story. Something I told myself to justify my distance from the world. The big excuse for always saying no to invitations, my get out of jail free card for social commitments and participating. It's time to let the story go.

What I said this morning, is that through our parts work, I have learned that crying is a natural way to release emotions, and that this year my tears are for releasing grief, not for feeling sorry for everything. And I will let them come as they will, and be filled with love instead of anguish as I do my grieving. How I wish I could see him, hug him, and hear his voice. But I am so grateful that I can still feel his arm around my neck, holding on tight as a toddler as we made our way through the day. That I can see him frying tacos in the kitchen and setting off the fire alarm every single time.  That our memories bring his energy alive, and for just that moment he is with us again.

I will always hold dear to my heart the memory of his parting message to me as I drove to Oakland, where unbeknownst to me he already lay lifeless; the window he opened from the other side to let me know he was okay. It's the lifeline I have held on to for the last fifteen years, and will continue to hold on to for the rest of my life. Knowing he was somewhere, that his spirit had survived and was moving on. I pray to something better, something fun and beautiful and worthy.

But that anniversary is three days away. Tonight is another anniversary altogether, and I would be remiss not to mention it. Two years ago R called us together in this very room to say the Dr's had diagnosed Cal with leukemia. "Scariest family meeting ever", I told R earlier this evening as we reminisced. It has changed us all I think, but there being no control group I couldn't tell you how. He is two years into treatment, with hopefully just another six months or so to go. They have been through so much with him; hospital stays, IV's, daily meds, a port in his chest for easy access for chemo treatments, and the scariest for me, the lumbar punctures. It's all such a part of our everyday lives, it's hard to imagine going 'back to normal'. Of course, there is still the pandemic, so things won't change drastically right away, but our lives will be different again.

There is a lot of love in this house, and I am grateful everyday for that. And I know that no matter what life brings, we will carry on. And for me, right now, that means one more Bright night. One night closer to me being a better person so I can show up, instead of just hanging out in the shadows of my own life.

Meandering thoughts

I'm still trying to help the team catch up on year end processing at my desk job, and the last two days have flown by as I try to log in time every chance I get. I love my team, and I do this for them, not for the boss man. But I am tired, and taking the evening off I think. I need to get in the kitchen as soon as R is finished up making their dinner, and and see if we need anything for the game tomorrow. We are going to skip our grain at breakfast so we can make nachos for lunch, M having picked up chips and salsa from a local restaurant for the occasion.  I can see the chopped tomatoes and olives and salsa over melted cheese and golden chips in my mind and I want them. Luckily I am full from dinner and willing to wait until tomorrow. And yes, technically corn chips are not on the BLE program, but they are not made with flour or sugar, and we are eating them as part of a meal, not snacking on them. Everything is being carefully thought out, and will be weighed. It's all good.

I think I have calmed down from being overwhelmed by all of the 'self care' that is erupting in my life. I just need to pick a few important items and concentrate on them until they are habits, then add a couple more. Keeping my bright lines and doing a morning meditation seem to be filtering to the top of what I actually want to do. I just can't feel like I have to do anything, it has to be something I want, it's all in the perspective.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm feeling a little guilty about the Queen Anne chocolate covered cherries I sent my Mother. She received them today and is enjoying them immensely - maybe a little too much, hence the guilt. Oh well. It's hard not being able to jump in the car to go see her, and I know she loves the chocolates, so it is what it is.

I'm trying not to think about it too much. Her birthday is the 12th, Valentines Day the 14th, and then Joey's Death Day the 16th.  I always let it slip by with barely a mention out in the real world, just trying to keep my shit together, and I know there is lots there that I need to address.  But somehow I keep pushing it aside, to my detriment I am sure, because it is so hard to face. The guilt, the loss, the questions. I have tools now, and know that eventually I will address these issues, it just doesn't need to be this month. Maybe next Summer, when there is a little distance from the actual anniversary, and there is the warmth of the sun to help soothe my soul.

What I need to think about is breakfast tomorrow, and what we will have without the grain component. Maybe just keep it simple and make a pan of scrambled eggs for the family to share. Lunch of course is nachos, then dinner...well, I just don't know yet. Maybe a rich vegetable lentil stoup, that way I can use up any dated veggies from the fridge. It's become a source of accomplishment to get through the week without throwing away food.

And here I am again with nothing to say, a tired back, and a longing to lie down. And it's not even 7pm on a Saturday night. I would say I am showing my age, but I've been this way since my forties. Who knows what's really going on inside. One of my dreams. like most people probably, is for there to be a way station between death and the next adventure, where we get to look back and see....everything. Why we had certain challenges, what was really going on in our bodies, if we came away with the lessons we should have. That dream.

Perhaps a cup of tea will help my miasma.

Persistence in the face of Sadness

A part of me was really determined yesterday to make me believe that none of this effort is worth it. That I am undeserving, and that 'Happy, Thin, and Free' is just a pipe dream, just the latest fail.  And the result of all that internal badgering was a handful of cookies, and an overwhelming sense of sadness. Not anger at myself, or disappointment, just deep bone wrenching sadness. No, that's not right, it wasn't a violent feeling, rather a dampening of spirit, so not bone wrenching, more like having a woolen blanket thrown over me and slowly sinking under the weight of it. 

I dragged myself along all day, going through the motions so to say, and ended with having some bread & butter while I sat at my computer answering work emails and just putting in the required hours to earn my paycheck. After work I went to bed, and couldn't muster up the energy to pretend to fight the usual midnight cravings. But my B&B snack was before 7pm, and I didn't eat anything all night, so I am Bright so far today. The sadness has sort of dampened the voice that was badgering me yesterday, and I feel rather calm for a change. Calm is suppose to indicate authentic self, so maybe that's okay.

I remind myself this morning that I am taking antibiotics, and healing from an infection, and that even though I push the thoughts aside so as not to be overwhelmed, Joey is often on my mind as we approach Thanksgiving. A deep internal stressor that never quite abates.

My thoughts this morning are of being consistent, of making the next right choice, and having a Bright day. Because this sadness will pass, as it is always wont to do in the face of persistence. And somewhere inside this wreck of an old woman is still my own true self begging to be let out.

==========

It's been a Bright Day, and the calm center still remains. Even helping C eat pumpkin bread I was not tempted or distressed at not having any. Currently R&M are unpacking a new refrigerator in the driveway, because what better day for one's refrigerator to die than the eve of Thanksgiving. We were planning on a 2nd fridge for the garage anyway, and we'll be able to transfer the food out there while we wait on the repairman. Maybe Friday, but probably Saturday? At least there is no family coming and no stress about everything being at sixes and sevens while we accommodate the situation.

We have Bright Line meals planned for tomorrow, and I'm grateful for R's support. And I am so looking forward to making turkey soup over the weekend. We're making lots of veggies so we can pack up left over turkey dinners; both roasted butternut squash w\brussels sprouts and a cauliflower 'stuffing' casserole with all the holiday herbs. We're using Tapioca starch to make the gravy. Technically I guess this is still a flour, but it's a small amount, and once added to mashed potatoes definitely lower than 3rd on the list of ingredients.

I am grateful tonight that the kids had the means to go buy a new fridge on a moment's notice, I'm grateful our little family is together for Thanksgiving, and that my extended family continues to be healthy.

And yes, if thoughts are things, tonight will be Bright.

Bean Soup and a Migraine

Our imperfect produce order last week included some chicken and smoked Gouda cheese sausages, and I roasted them this morning with onions and green beans. Four meals done. Right now I have dried great northern beans coming up to pressure in the instant pot with a bunch of diced yellow onions, two bay leaves and a quart of organic chicken stock. When done, I'll prep veggies while the instant pot is on 'natural release', and then the veggies will go in with the beans and come up to pressure for another 7 minutes. Easy peasy and at least four more meals ready to go for the week. I don't know the ratio, but google seems to think my cup of dried beans will be four servings.  I haven't scoured the fridge for veggies yet, but I know I have zucchini and cauliflower to use up, and a butternut squash.  There's a trifecta of nutrition for you; onions, beans and squash.

I couldn't sleep last night and finished up the ice cream from the freezer. My bad, but not totally unexpected after my waxing so positive yesterday; typical backlash behavior for me. Anyway, I lay in bed feeling physically ill, and this morning at 8am I was greeted by an occular migraine. Generally speaking this will put me in bed this afternoon so I tried to get my cooking done early today.

I am back on track this morning, and anxious to feel the calm and well being of being back on plan with Bright Lines intact.  (Birthday tomorrow,...just sayin'.)

(b)  cooked grains, grapes

(l)   left over pork chop, green beans & onions cooked with bacon

(d)  bean soup, cabbage salad

I'm thinking that it's a good thing I sleep alone, but 'wind' hasn't really been an issue since cutting out flour and sugar. Interesting, hadn't thought about it before.

C is sitting with me watching PJ Masks and munching on raw sweet potatoe and drinking ice water. lol, we should all be so healthy! He was so good yesterday and last night while his parent were gone. His sister was also beyond reproach; so loving and playful with him - best big sister ever indeed.

Everyone but C is a little tired today, and as soon as he settles down for a nap I think the rest of us will too. I will have enough meals ready so no grocery store this weekend.  But I do have a bit of a mess to clean up in the kitchen after  my earlier foray into  cooking. I fantasize about having live in help to cook, clean, and do laundry, but it doesn't really look like that's going to happen. Not in this lifetime anyway.

We've had a hint of Spring lately, and this cold cold day is a reminder that winter still has us in it's grip. I am looking forward to cuddling up with a cozy blanket for a nap and feasting on rich bean soup for dinner. But first C has decided we are playing a game of finding Dory. 

And as soon as I think what a perfect day, I miss Joey, and feel guilty. But I won't dwell on that. I have a grandson waiting on me. I am blessed.

A Double D Day

Double D is from, "What Dreams May Come", a favorite Robin Williams movie.The art and colours in the movie draw me in, and the message gives hope. It's hard to think of Robin dealing with his own depression while filming this movie; I wonder if that is why he gave such a heartfelt performance. My double D is Death and Depression today, but that is not why I sat down to write. I am hear to talk about cooking, and the one plate vs weighed meals options in Bright Line Eating.

A helped me chop veggies; carrtos, celery, fennel & red onion. Those went into R's beautiful big blue heavy pot to sautee while I diced up hot sausage. Once the veggies had lost their crispness, I mixed in a bag and a half of sliced white mushrooms and three of the sausage (about 6oz each?) along with some chicken stock and corn starch. Then 2 cups of cooked brown rice were folded in before putting the pot into the over for 40 minutes. I used Braggs seasonings and a mushroom mis that has sage in it.

While it was baking away C and i went down to the tot lot. He rode his little scooter thing and I walked quickly afterwards trying to keep up. A few times down the slide and he was ready to head home. He's already been to the park today with his Dad, but it's so nice out he wasn't quite done. About half way home he pooped out and walked while I carried the scooter. He's laying down watching Super Why while I type away waiting for it to be 4 o'clock so I can eat dinner.

So finally to the point. I could calculate based on the amounts of rice and sausage what a serving is, but I am choosing not to, instead using my experience to dish out portions that I know are reasonable. Of course if I did this all of the time it could be a slippery slope towards over-eating. But most days I weigh or measure most of my food, and using the one-plate method at times like this fits into my eating plan most admirably.

The rice isn't on the losing weight plan, but it is on maintenance, and having it once a day in the next week is fine for me. That is important, it works for me. It will help keep me sane while I continue to lose weight. I won't be a bright liner that keeps losing steadily until they reach goal weight. Rather I see myself leaning into maintenance as I approach feeling like I am at goal weight. It could be anywhere from 135 to 175. I just don't know yet, I'll have to wait to see how I feel and how I feel about how I look.. Years ago I was measured for lean body mass at 125 pounds. I can't see 135 being a reasonable weight given my natural muscle mass despite insurance charts. But again, who knows, and it's too early to think about it yet anyway with at least another 40 pounds to go.

So making a casserole type dish today with rice may have been me thumbing my nose at the universe, or just me wanting to use up lots of veggies to have with the sausage and needing rice to even out the heat they are bringing to the party. Besides, there has been a partial bag of brown rice in the fridge for more months than I can remember and it needed to be used. So a convergence of need, if you will.

(b)  Eggs with cheese & green chilies, bacon
(l)  Steak and roasted veggies, apple
(d)  Sausage, rice and veggie casserole

What time is it? It's time for dinner! A blue plate special for an old lady who is thinking about her son a lot today.

A little Whine with my Cheese

I'm trying to be gentle with myself, but I did not do well today, and having an 'excuse' just isn't cutting it. I feel the internal pressure mounting, and can't seem to find the time and energy to disconnect and meditate to ease my way. I realize that the next couple of days I have choices, and I am not crazy about any of them. Sunday marks the 14th anniversary of Joey's Death Day. It never feels like it was yesterday anymore, it's in my past, but the guilt and pain rear their ugly heads and try to consume me at times.

I should work on my new neural pathways, and stick to my Bright Lines this weekend so that it's a learning experience that I can get through one day at a time making good choices even under duress. This leads to the self trust and respect that have been so lacking in my life. The saboteur whispers that it's just a couple of days, and to take what comfort I can from letting myself eat. I lost a son, that trumps everything doesn't it?  And finally, the non-choice. Doing the best I can knowing slip ups will occur, and deciding ahead of time that I will forgive myself.

But the latter has steadily been becoming the new normal, and I am obviously not happy with myself, and for the 3rd Friday in a row I am dreading getting on the scale in the morning. I am, in fact, trying to talk myself out of it. Because I don't want the evidence in my face that I should have done better.

Have I really done the best I could this past week? I mean not counting today, because today is not something I feel good about at all. The fact that I feel this is awful says something about how far I have come from eating everything and anything I wanted over the past few years. I will say that those were important years, during which I didn't gain a ton of weight (just some) and learned that I can make healthy choices while not dieting.

(b)  Cheesy southwest potatoes, orange
(l)   Baked beans, roasted veggies
(s)  Package of cinnamon Belvita breakfast wafers
(s)  1oz Cheese and 6 ritz crackers, handful of fritos, 1 See's chocolate heart
(d)  Hot sausage link, roasted potatoes

I had come home early to watch C while the kids took A for a horseback riding lesson. Just getting home from work is a trigger for me to eat, and it was 2 hours until dinner. As usual when I break my bright lines, I was alone. C was still napping and I wanted to eat. To be specific, I wanted cheese and crackers and we are out of triscuits.

Susan speaks about foods that are addictive by nature, and I believe that cheese is at or very close to the top of the list. I've had a life long love affair with cheese, as have many, and being able to eat it on plan has been wonderful. But eating it as a snack is not acceptable, and I crashed through that bright line today full steam ahead. My good sense is telling me I need to back off the cheese - it has become too important.

The snack at work was another 'eat while alone' scenario. It's funny googling the ingredients and seeing the many ways sugar is listed while they are stating that it's a nutritious breakfast giving 4 hours of sustained energy.  'Food' advertising is insane.

Okay, enough self recrimination. I know what I need to do. I need to do the next right thing. And I need to figure out a way to remind myself of that in a continuous loop. I think I am going to set alerts on my phone over the long weekend with just that. Do The Next Right Thing. Like every 2 hours.

Mentally and physically exhausted, heart-sore and weary of the battlefield, I go to rest.

February

It suddenly occurred to me today why I am struggling, why I feel like I am fighting and giving up all of a sudden. It's February, the middle of my mourning season. February 16th will mark 14 years since Joey's life ended in this world and began in the next. My mom' birthday is the 11th, Valentines Day the 14th, and then Joeys Death Day the 16th. The beginning of March is my birthday, C's is in the middle, then the end of March my sisters, my dearly departed Aunt Beth's birthday was April and Mother's day is in May. I get time off  in June, July & August before the cycle starts up again in September. First with R's birthday, then Joey's, followed by the holiday season from Halloween to Superbowl. What a way to track time.

The angst has been building, but I figured I had just burned out, and was dreading facing that as I have had so much faith in Bright Line Eating and the results I have enjoyed up until this past week. I am hoping that acknowledging this will help me in the coming weeks as I try to let myself ride out the waves of grief as they hit, instead of falling into one of the previous patterns of denial and\or burial that I tend to fall into.

Doing the next right thing each day will be my mantra for the rest of February this year.

(b) Triscuits, cheese, pear
(l)  Roast chicken, mixed veggies
(d)  Baked beans, curly fries, ice cream

As you may have noticed things fell apart earlier this evening. The family was off to a friends for a crab feast, and I was home alone watching Netflix in between finishing up dishes and laundry. And all of a sudden I noticed that all of the strength of purpose I have been feeling since October was gone. Had dissipated into the ether. Just gone. And while I could watch from a distance and think, 'that's not right', I started to eat. But instead of making my salad as intended, I finished C's leftover fries, and then had a cup of ice cream that I knew was in the freezer. BIG GIANT EFFING SIGH.

It was after the ice cream that I checked my phone. I had plugged it in earlier after the power came back on this afternoon to make sure it was fully charged if the wind blew it out again. (It didn't.) Anyway, it was from my mom, letting me know that she had gone to dinner with my sister and had been the recipient of a free birthday desert. And lightening struck; it's February.

Now I've know it's been February for nine days, this is not a surprise. Part of my job in accounting depends on processing that is strictly bound to the time of month. Download bank statements on the 1st, get financials produced by the 10th, process late fees on the 16th. I am always aware of the date and making sure things get done on time. But while my subconscious was stressing I remained blissfully unaware until this afternoon as to the why of it all. Not just another month, but February.

Our brains are mysterious and confusing, that is for sure. Because right now I don't want to think about it, I want to share how beautifully my Bright Line baked beans were, and why. But I can't. Because my brain is overrun with emotions and memories and the need to fight fight fight, and it's all just so exhausting and discouraging.

     I pray for Love and Light.
     I pray for healing over night.
     I feel the strength inside my heart; burning bright, taking flight.

Pause to breathe. In and out. In and out. Om Namah Shivaya

Bright Line Eating; week 11 in review

Writing helps me think. Years ago when I began this blog it was because I felt disconnected. While I wasn't alone in my grief,  it was almost impossible to share how devastated I was over Joey's death. Feelings are everything, so why it is so hard to share them openly and honestly is the great human mystery. So I turned to writing, and did it here to tap into the energy of the world. We all run on the same elemental properties, and my religion is believing that we are all connected through the creation of our universe. That is how prayer works, how communing with nature works, and how we can both center and ground ourselves in this big wide world.

So today I turn here again to write out my feelings, and find some solace through the act of sharing. As with most things it's best to start at the beginning, and this rainy morning that is creeping through the backyard in my slippers to weigh myself in the cold garage. Lights on, sweater off, on the scale, and I'm up half a pound. Grrr...  My brain says, it's okay - fluctuations are expected, there are a million reasons why this is natural. But my heart is pissed. Determined to not derail my progress I brush it off and start the day. Coffee, dishes, grocery list, and off to the store.

The store, where I see a little boy helping his dad carry a basket and my heart breaks all over again. I make it to the car before the crying starts, and on the drive home pull myself together because I cannot walk into the house with red eyes.

Back home I have sausages, celery, onions, spaghetti sauce in the instant pot. Peppers, onions & mushrooms are in the oven. And then everyone but R is off to Church where the children want to give C a present. R and I are alone and I lose it. I love my daughter so much, and forget sometimes that she too hurts, that she too misses not only Joey but her father who passed the year she was married. I lean into her strength; we talk, we cry, we look to the future, and I am on my way to being better.

Whew, so few words to express all of the crazy emotions of the morning. And so much to do. So quickly back to BLE. Overall it was a good week, Bright Lines stayed mostly intact. Last night I sampled some Christmas cookies - more about that later-but feeling stronger and trimmer all the time despite what the scale reported. I'm still glad i'm on this journey to heal my brain, still grateful to be on track to help fulfill Susan B. Thompson's mission to have a million people regain a right sized body and live in it Happy, Thin and Free.

A little grilled cheese, a little optimism, and a little sad

Well I made it home safe and sound, Bright Lines intact. I wanted to stop for a Star burger, or fries, or anything. But I was too tired to stop at the market and I knew I had soup etc at home. Traffic was really bad; thank heavens for audio books or I would be insane.  On the way home I thought about my dinner, and what I could do to mix things up so I would be enticed to arrive home without eating. Sometimes an hour can feel like forever.

Sometimes I add whole grains at lunch or dinner depending on my mood and appetite, and since I had soup waiting for me I suddenly realized I could make a grilled cheese sandwich. YUM. Ezekiel bread, and swiss cheese. I ate half the soup since half my protein was in the sandwich and called it a day.

(b)  cooked grains, banana, flaxmeal & PB.
(l)  roast, onions, peppers, banana
(d) grilled cheese, bean soup, green salad

Dinner felt decadent, and I'm finally warm, relaxed, and sated.

It was just another manic Monday, and we were busy all day at work. Sometimes I miss being able to come home and just crash. I mean, I still could, but I hate feeling like I'm not pulling my weight so I usually don't. Tonight there is too much going on and it's a small house so I am kicking it in the bedroom with C. He's good company, and they can get more done out there when he is in here with me. See, I'm helping, it only looks like I'm goofing off.

I'm looking forward to keeping my Bright Lines this week. Looking forward to feeling good about myself and this journey.  I think it's a little easier to move around, though one wouldn't think it to see me hobble after sitting for an hour or so. But once I get going I'm in less pain. I can hardly wait to feel what it's like after another ten pounds are gone.

The last time I carried in groceries that were a bit heavy I  realized how it doesn't take adding on much weight to have a negative impact. I suppose that it's different when the gain is gradual and you don't realize how awful it is or how it's affecting your body, your pain, your mood. I am so looking forward to feeling better. Moving better. Doing better.

And then I think about how long it's been since I looked forward to anything, and I am once again somber. Not horribly so, I am definitely better this holiday season than in recent years, just regular sad for a moment.  I'll let it wash through me, and try to let it go.

Bright Line Eating; week 10 in review

I have run the gamut of emotions this morning, feeling both elated and humble by turns, because I saw 218 on the scale this morning. I cannot remember the last time I was under 220. But of course I did not step on the scale once, but three times this morning, and I am paying the price by using 219 as my weight today. 1) pajamas, sweater & slippers, 221.2  2) just pajamas, 218  3) pajamas & slippers, 219.4 - so I am thinking these little slippers do not weigh over a pound, and I am recording 219 as my official weight today; my punishment for playing games with the scale? Was seeing 218 too intense?

Who knows what the number would have been if I had taken the sweater and slippers off first and just stepped on the scale once. If it hadn't been so cold I probably would have kept getting back on until I saw the 218 again, but I caught myself, pulled my sweater back on, and headed inside to the lovely warmth of our cozy little home.

But the 218 is staying in my head, and I am down just about 15 pounds in ten weeks. That's 1.5 lbs a week on average - smack in the middle of the average weight loss zone for Bright Line Eating. And during a holiday season! I remember so many times in my sordid weight loss past, stepping on the scale and being disappointed after having a 'perfect' week of eating, and this morning my feelings of dread before weighing were a reflection of those failures. So seeing a loss after a week of being less than perfect is awesome. And confirmation that I am on the right track.

Normally I post at night, and log what I have eaten for the day, but as I commit to my food the night before I feel confident that what I post now will be exactly what I eat today.

(b)  hot cereal, banana
(l)  knockwurst, roasted veggies (butternut squash, carrots, onions, tomatoes)
(d)  roast, onions, peppers; salad w/ snap peas, cauliflower, green onions, vinaigrette

So the week was full of determination to stick to my Bright Lines, and while I had to fight many battles, I was able to win most of them - writing here or praying or listening to Susan's vlog were all tools I wielded as swords against my saboteur. And knowing that as my brain continues to heal, the battles will become easier to manage, is a wonderful feeling. There is a huge difference between maintaining a diet and managing a disease.  The latter is doable, the former is not.

I know myself well enough to realize that if I had not seen a loss, the leftover sugar cookies still sitting on the baking sheet in the kitchen this morning would be goners. Instead, I eyed them while fixing my coffee, and said, "No Thank you" as I went on about my business.

My business; the project of healing my brain, of getting into a right sized body, of feeling good about myself and setting a good example. Loving myself has been a challenge since losing Joey, it's hard to forgive myself for the multitude of sins that contributed to his death. But I swore I would not let my food addiction lead to my death - a promise to the heavens that I feel I can finally keep. And that means the world to me. Where ever in the world you are Susan P.T., I thank you this morning for giving me this path, and I thank my sweet Sister for pointing the way. Thinking back on that promise I made, I realize that I knew back then, what - almost 14 years ago?, that I was a food addict. And here I am, finally learning how to manage that disease.

The Good, The Bad, and the Turkey

The good: Bright Line breakfast and dinner

The bad: two bites pumpkin pie - no crust, two coconut cookies, cheese & salami snack.

The Turkey: Sandwich for lunch and soup for dinner.

It was a productive day. In the morning I packed up three lunches using left over turkey and microwaving some broccoli & corn for 6oz veg in each container. I flavored the veggies with a little butter and poultry seasoning in keeping with the holiday spirit.

While the fam was out I moved some furniture around, getting the bookcase out of the living room to make room for the Christmas Tree. It's a very pretty tree, picked out by A, and I am guessing we will decorate it tomorrow.

This morning I also made turkey stock, and this afternoon I used it to make turkey rice soup for dinner. There are five bowls leftover in the fridge, bringing my prepared meals count to 8. Of course I am expecting some help in eating them, but that is fine. And I still have another bag of bones in the fridge to make another batch of stock, but I think I will freeze them for another weekend.

About the soup. It's full of mixed vegetables (corn, peas, green beans, carrots), diced red rhubarb, plus onions and celery (the herb mix prepared by the store is flavorful shortcut for making soup). Then a cup of rice and simmered until done, and finally the chopped turkey to warm up at the end. Delish. Anyway, I decided that I would weigh out each bowl to 14oz; 6oz veg + 4oz protein + 4oz whole grain. I'm not too concerned about if the proportions are correct; I know I'm eating a reasonable amount of food and that it's all good.

I picked up more canned pumpkin at the store this morning, but there's no room in the fridge to make another batch of custard what with all the leftovers taking up so much real estate. I've really enjoyed having the warm yummy custard the last few mornings, and hopefully by Sunday there will be room in the fridge and I'll bake another batch.

(b)  pumpkin custard
(l)   turkey sandwich (as planned - no grain for breakfast and two servings of Ezekiel bread)
(d)  turkey rice veggie soup

I'm looking forward to another two days off of work, and hopefully the rain will hold off enough to get some decorating done tomorrow. Tis the season. Which reminds me of Joey, and that he's not here. I still think of him everyday, and sometimes the pain still comes. But living with my grandchildren fills my days with love and distractions, and while I miss who he could have been, it's just a dream I hold in my heart.

A friend once said that she misses her son too, that he is on the other side of the world, like it was the same thing. I hope she never knows the difference.

Saturday Ramblings

I find comfort in routine; enjoying my Saturday morning coffee in bed, not feeling the pressure of having to do any specific thing. Leisurely brushing my hair and putting on 'weekend' clothes. Starting my laundry, puttering here, there, and everywhere picking up and putting away the remains of the week. Here is where C was racing his Cat Boy motorcycle, and there are crayons and paper on the dining room table, and the everywhere part would be the shoes. We are all guilty.

Today was a good day. The laundry is done, my errands accomplished, and the house is filled with the laughter and mayhem of three ten year old girls and a very happy two year old. They are doing a test run sleeping out in the tent tonight, making sure it's not going to be too cold for A's 11th birthday in two weeks. How she can possible be that old I don't know.

I took a break and browsed back to November 2008 when she was born. Of course I shouldn't be surprised to see that I was dieting, but at least it was hand in hand with eating for nutrition. And Kaylee was still alive, just a puppy, And it was our 3rd Thanksgiving with out Joey, and all of a sudden the pain is fresh again. But it's okay, I'll feel it move through me and let it dissipate, and focus on the girls running up and down the hall.

Back to today. Breakfast was sausage, tater tots, and  papaya. Lunch was bean soup and grapes, and then I was starving.  I forgot to make a salad for lunch, there weren't enough calories in the soup, and it was only 3pm. So I decided to make a salad with green onions and avocado. Then dinner wasn't until 7 or so; Tri-Tip, mixed veggies and sauteed mushrooms. Damn, I forgot the fruit again. I didn't have sugar or flour today, but i don't feel like I was being true to Bright Line Eating either.

After forgetting for days I will journal tonight and plan tomorrows food. I swear. Speaking of which, I need to go cook some grains so they are ready for the morning. I do like it when I let them sit overnight in yogurt, but cooked grains are more luscious and I am hoping they will be good with the papaya.

Time for Tea. And making better choices tomorrow.

Sugar Detox Redoux - Day 5/28

It's Memorial Day, but two of us don't feel well and we never spoke of plans to BBQ or recognize the day's passing. I spent the morning in my room going through a box of Joey's things; paperwork to thin out and recycle most of it - his last pair of jeans, plus a hat and a belt to drop off in the donation box later. I need to lighten the burden, and begin clearing out old knick knacks from my room. I need to make space. It almost felt like nesting this morning trying to bring some order to my small corner of chaos.

I did not partake of the coffee cake left on the counter in the kitchen this morning, though I did have a small slice last night.

A trip to the store to buy sandwiches for lunch, and veggies for dinners this week. Some of them are sauteing in red palm oil in the kitchen in one of Mommer's pans as I type, and when softened I'll add quinoa\corn pasta, zucchini, a jar of sauce and a jar of water. First to a boil, then to simmer for 20 minutes and it will be done. An easy one pan dinner with leftovers for the week. More like vegetarian spaghetti soup than anything else really since the ratio of veggies to pasta is inverted, but satisfying. I did splurge on some shaved parmesan for a topper and I am looking forward muchly to dinner.

I have been numb from emotion all day, but I feel I made progress and the room feels lighter. Damn those boys for murdering my son, for taking away R's brother. Big Sigh, on with the day, time for the pity party to wind up. There are tasks to be done for the living; that is where I live, where I am grateful to be, knowing it's only a matter of minutes before A does something to make me smile again.
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The pasta was good, it's hard to ruin so simple a dish, and leftovers are in the fridge. I had a little honey in my tea earlier, not much, and no other added sugar for the day. My body is definitely going through some detox or other, my face breaking out and I have been back to being tired yesterday afternoon through all of today. Too tired to weep, to care overmuch about anything, and ready for it to be bedtime. I know the signs - anxious to escape into sleep, my emotions dull and grey. Partly because my physical pain is acting up, but mostly an emotional hangover. I don't have the energy to pretend to be perky or optimistic about much, but I know everything will look different tomorrow or maybe the next day. Rock On.

Just out of the pity pool and dripping wet

We were in a motor home, leaving an archery range with our bows packed away and quivers hanging from seat backs, the arrows bright splashes of colour against the dim interior. It was darkening rapidly outside as we headed to the side of the road where the view spread out before us. Later I would think it reminded me of Skyline in Oakland where you can look out over the San Francisco Bay and be mesmerized by the view. But back in the dream I was turning away from the view, away from H, and turning my back on all of the ways I had not been myself, all of the pretense that I had evoked in order to be with him, all of the choices I had freely made that had been about him and never about me I was so desperate to love and be loved. I didn't think these details in the dream, I just knew that was what my turning away meant. And then the dream fractured and I was driving up to the restaurant, and I think I went in even though it wasn't my shift, finding my father in law and walking back out with him; he was trim and healthy and handsome as all of the men in that family are and I felt myself break inside and asked him how he had finally lost weight, how he was able to finally win. And he morphed into my grandfather, and I was looking into Joey's eyes, and he looked me straight in my eyes and pointed to the back of his head. It's in here, it all in your mind he said with every bit of his being - just radiating out the message to me. And then it was over, and I woke crying because I had not stayed asleep long enough to understand, and I missed my grandfather and my son so much in that moment that I prayed to them, asking for help, begging for them to stay with me.

Once fully awake and unable to get out of bed, I lay there watching tv and talking myself down from the grief, talking myself into a cup of coffee and moving and finding some bit of sanity to begin the day. So it was that I was sitting in bed drinking my decaf when A woke and came stumbling in for her early weekend snuggle and to show me she could read a book she had brought with her. Normal returned rather quickly after that, and I was up putting in laundry and starting the dishes while the Fam prepared for a morning of softball.

Now I am just exhausted, and my thoughts are once again full of family; sitting in grandpa G's lap while he watched tv, watching grandma H putting on make up and going through her box of costume jewelry that was so much a part of her personality. Playing canasta with her on her beautiful back patio during my highschool years, spending time with Podder in his darkroom while he developed his pictures, visiting G & C where they lived in a gorgeous canyon and G playing guitar and C working at her pottery. Mommer puttering between the laundry room by the basement and the lanai where there were treasures to dream over. Upstairs to visit Aunt B and her porcelain doll in her beautiful attic room. Playing croquet with all of the cousins I loved so much and missed when we weren't together. So much family, so many memories, how on earth can I be sad and weepy with those to draw on; how did I end up here coming from that? It's a mystery, and I have to believe it will all work out in the end.

How I wish my heart would stop aching.

Nine Years

This morning A took me by the shoulders (she was sitting on my lap) and told me that this was the day that Joey died. And she hugged me tight for a long time. And without crying I said, "Nine years ago today, right now, he was still alive." We did not expand upon the topic, and the day went about as normal as could be. We took turns watching her practice riding her bike, we went to lunch together and brought pie home for dessert. I did dishes and laundry (mundane chores are soothing) and watched a lot of tv. It was just another day for most of the world, but we missed him in our own ways I think, not talking about it much, and just being together.

I still hope he is happier in whatever came next for him. I still hope there was something more for him. No matter what he did as an addict, he was still my little boy, still R's brother ready to laugh and be goofy and draw monsters and aliens, and have I mentioned he was only four when he wanted the training wheels off his bike? He was a good boy, and didn't deserve how his life shook out, and I will always shoulder some of the blame for that. One of my worst memories is of him yelling at me, "What chance did I have?" And one of the best was him holding on to me with all the might of his strong arms when he was just little, and depending on me to protect him. Ironic?

In about an hour and a half nine years ago this night he will be killed in an alleyway in Oakland. What a waste. What a nightmare. How does one live with that?

Happy Hearts Day

I am truly happy this morning, getting so many hugs from A, beautiful flowers and chocolate from my own sweetie R, and breakfast with the girls. My only regret is that M is missing these moments with them. I wish there was a way to help him realize how precious these days are while A is still young and loving and willing to give so much of herself to us all. But we all have our own paths to walk.  And I can't help but wonder how A would have impacted Joey. Just wonder, not wish, I don't go there.

I remember clearly the Valentines day before he died, the small bags of chocolate hearts I gave to each of the kids, and then two days later how I found what was left of his and kept them for years. There is in fact one still left, nestled in with a bowl of rocks on my wardrobe. Small items that he touched, that prove he was here, that he loved and was loved in return - they break my heart but I can't seem to let them go. There are no rules, no control group, no timeline for grief.

I do love the world, and know that eventually I will love being alive as much as ever I did before D-day; it's just a work in progress - maybe for as long as I live. But better that than never having known him, never having watched him play with his big sister and listened to his giggles, never having felt his strong little arms around my neck. I can still treasure those forever. And more importantly, I can still treasure my daughter and the family she has created, because she makes me possible right now.

No more crying, time to get on with another day. And I have a hot date tonight with A, going down to the Railroad Cafe for an early amazing dinner while her 'rents have a quiet dinner out by themselves.

Breakfast: whole grain toast with butter, pb and apricot jam
2nd Breakfast: Egg over easy on tater tots, 1 slice of bacon, 1 perfectly ripe pear
Lunch:  Greek yogurt with blackberries
Dinner:  prime rib, loaded potatoe, veggie soup
Dessert: half a cherry cobbler