Tales from an un-house-wife

My mom is fond of spinning a web of hypothetical plans for the magical day when she finds herself independently wealthy. She says she would volunteer somewhere very meaningful, hire a trainer and house cleaner, and go to the spa every week.

These all sound like good plans.

But, I now have my first ever experience of not running from one place to the next, or one job to the next, and the idea of not working is no longer novel to me. I do volunteer, and it is somewhere very meaningful. I do work out. I don't go to the spa, but I do give myself a pedicure every two weeks - not just because it is more economical to do it myself but because I actually have time for such things now. I will probably never hire anyone to do my cleaning for me. I cleaned houses to pay for college (among many other jobs I took on during that time to pay tuition) and it's hard for me to be part of that dynamic, as a result. Also, let's be honest - I get a lot of satisfaction out of cleaning things. (Ok, maybe not windows. Or tile. Of any kind. Or stoves. So, let's say I would hire someone to clean those things, and those things only, maybe 3 or 4 times a year)

It seems like a cushy lifestyle, right? To sit outside and read, or write, to have a cool dog to hang out with and to take hikes, to have the luxury to cook, and keep your house clean, and meet friends for lunch in the middle of the day. And minus the constant applying, and the stress about where my life is going, and how far off course I am from my long term plans, this is my life right now (add borrowed dog to very cool hiking trails, mix well, smile).

But, let's just say it was possible to subtract out the stress, and the constant mill of applying and fretting about getting a job (I can manage this stress subtraction operation for short periods - maybe even for 10-12 hours on a really nice Saturday) - not working carries with it other liabilities. For one, I'm struggling with focus and concentration because of the special blend of coming by ADD naturally, stress, and open-ended-ness of this venture. For another, I'm becoming a secret introvert. I have the utmost respect for introversion, and I need my alone time to process and analyze - that has always been true even when I haven't been as good at recognizing it. But now, I'm hearing my extroverted self say, "I don't want to go to ______ if it's going to be really loud and full of people," and putting a lot more energy into having one social interaction at a time. None of this is bad, per se, except that the last time I found myself in this mode it was because I was profoundly lonely and depressed and felt stranded in the place I was in. So, I'm watching this carefully to make sure that I'm not secretly really un-ok. In practical, logistical terms it means that when I find myself in this mode, personal interaction requires a little more bandwidth for me. So, interviews are becoming more taxing. It's easy for me to go, to talk, to be open and engaging and make the connection, but it was very apparent this week that that took a toll on my reserves. Or rather, it wasn't apparent, and that's why I passed out on my couch with my clothes on afterwards . . . and now I am very aware of it.

But all of this pales in comparison to what may be two irrational fears I have been struck by lately. I have, over the last couple of weeks, been very anxious about getting a job and then not being able to do it well. This is silly, if I look at it logically, because the truth is, I was very good at my last job. And, perhaps even more importantly (and even less humbly if that is possible) I am very good at learning new tasks quickly, and deeply, and then very quickly creating systems and processes to manage them and do them with aplomb and efficiency, and shortly thereafter working to connect my tasks and efforts and communication functionally to any other employees, departments, projects, so that I have thorough knowledge of how what I am doing affects other operations. I know my strengths (high standards and accountability, communication, training, work ethic, organization) and my weaknesses (typos, over-committing, seeming to apply unreasonably high standards to others, getting very attached to processes). And I'm passionate about doing important things, doing them well, and doing them for the right reasons. So, when I'm spending all of this alone-time introspecting, I can usually logically back away from this fallacy. I can talk myself off that ledge pretty well, though finding myself on it is unsettling.

More poignant than worrying (without cause, I suspect) that I will get a job and flop, is the right-now problem of having not worked for nearly 4 months and feeling very dull around the edges. I find myself, for the first time in my life, sometimes lacking things to say. (For anyone who knows me, please note this may be the ONLY time where I have a dearth of thoughts and words to share.) I say a lot here, but don't want to repeat myself when talking out loud. And most of the rest of my life seems to exist outside of the the real world. I feel like I've been quarantined, or in a coma, and am missing out on what the rest of the world does when it goes about its business. Its funny, because when I was working, I had placed intense focus on making sure that work didn't consume me. I actively sought out a life outside of work - running, working out, friends, singing, writing, and photography. I desperately wanted to have things that fulfilled me outside of work, and that mattered to me in ways that couldn't be measured by hours worked, a paycheck, mid-year evaluation, profitability metrics. But now, my whole life is not working, and I feel I have gone MIA from the population of people who DO THINGS that matter.  I mean, who cares how much I walked or meditated this week? Or the new recipe I found and then immediately altered? Or the fact that I had deep thoughts about how to rearrange the office, and my bedroom? Right - even I don't find those things that interesting and I'm the one contemplating them.

I sometimes open my mouth to say something about mopping my floor, fixing my dishwasher (which, if I'm being honest, I was a little proud that I could do), lightbulbs in my house, and why I used yellow tomatoes in a recipe instead of red, and there's a warning siren that goes off that screams, "Don't be a 1950's housewife!!" I am nobody's wife, of course, but damn, it would be easy to drink beer at noon, watch Grey's Anatomy, and let the constellations of my brain cells form around grocery sales, how to use my slow cooker and when to use bleach as a household cleaner.

My mom admitted to me that when she graduated high school her aspiration was to be a wife and mother. I have respect for this, as she did both well, and as it was a very different time for families, for women, and for how those choices got made. But, as a dear friend (who, I would add, achieved waiting patiently for the very thing she was internally very impatient to get) who recently had her first child said to me, "I love this baby soooo much AND I'm not a stay at home mom." It wasn't, I love my child BUT. It was both things, joined conditionally by AND. I am not a mother, nor wife, but I can say this - I love my new found peace and contentment and the rightness with myself and clear vision of what I want and how I think I can contribute. I love it so much, AND even if I were able, it would not be ok with me to stay home without a greater purpose for too much longer than I already have.

I want to have stories, I want to do difficult things, I want to fail and get better at something, I want to try and fit a dentist appointment into a busy week of meetings, I want to point to results at the end of the year or quarter or whatever and know what part I had in them, I want to make a to do list of tasks that relate to tasks I can't accomplish in this house with a pot, pan, cutting board, or mop. I even want to complain about traffic or a commute or a roadblock to achieving something in my office because this would mean I was back in the world doing things, earning my happy hour in Friday, thinking about how to get better at something, how to do more, how to be of use.

I never wanted to stay home. In my mind, if I was ever going to stay home it would be for my child, and it would have a pre-determined end point, a light at the end of the tunnel. I feel now like I am at the end of the tunnel, and waiting expectantly for that light to come on.

It's time for me to find my way out of this labyrinth and see "what's next" but I'm not sure this gets to happen on my schedule. So, I'm trying to do the things that work to keep me feeling connected to the rest of the world, and trying to dream up projects and pursuits that keep me from getting too boring to stand even myself. This is where it would be GREAT NEWS to be independently wealthy because then I'd have the resources to take on whatever seemed most engaging to me - skydiving, digital photo editing, class on how to make sushi, cello lessons, done, done, check, check. But I've also found, in past lives, that working through and past limitations can sometimes unearth previously unrealized creativity. (The first time I consciously experienced this was when I wanted to have my lab over for dinner and found out that one member was vegetarian and allergic to: onions, garlic, dairy, eggs, and citrus. At first I thought, "what in the WORLD could I make that isn't completely bland without any of those ingredients?" And then I came up with a killer menu. ) So, I'm trying to see this as a stellar opportunity to be creative about how I want to be creative - read more about meditation, take some free yoga, train for a 5k that I might never race, draw sketches of how I could rearrange and redecorate my house, take free online software tutorials, think about what I would give a TED talk on, document gluten free recipes, write a zombie story, are all on the list of potential projects. Interesting other suggestions, please feel free to apply as comments to this post. :)

And let us all bow our heads an pray that I do not, someday, write a post about mopping my floors. 

ADD and focus

Everyone in my family has "special needs." (I know that term has a specific meaning, but hate it. Because . . . don't we all? I have friends who are allergic to dairy and I attend to this when I cook for them. And friends who are introverts and won't enjoy a large group. Friends who are afraid of heights or elevators. Cello, we all have things, yeah?) Although my father had the kind of singular focus that all engineers do (in my experience), he also had some pretty apparent hyperactivity. And for those who think hyperactivity is the same as kids being boisterous and that people "outgrow" this, well, umm, no. You'd need only to meet my brother who is still the most ADHD person I know, now in his 30's, to see the incredible effort it is for him to sit in one seat for more then 10-15 minutes. While strong leanings towards math, science and mechanically complex knowledge as well as allergies and diabetes are traced on my mother's side of the family, strong leanings towards creativity, art and writing, nurturing and teaching, OCD, and ADD/ADHD cascade through my father's side of the family. (Both sides have poor vision and asthma, so, there was just no way out there.)

Growing up in house full of talented, smart (if not always conventionally so) people the expectations were high. (And no, this doesn't impact me at all now; I have no idea what you could be talking about! ) We were all expected to work hard, do our homework, get good grades (really good grades), as well as participating in other activities with dedication and some success. Swim lessons were not an option, and taking a musical instrument was strongly promoted. We all played soccer, for various lengths of time, and we all had at least one sport each year all through high school (My brothers typically had three or four, while I switched to music, writing, and what can only be described as the busiest high school drama program EVER). This on top of speech therapy and other kinds of assistance for me for years, and some early intervention for my brothers as well.

My mom's attitude was always, "Oh, that's harder for you. Hmmm. Too bad, you still have to do it." She wasn't unwilling to help, to try and strategize ways to make life more functional, or to be an advocate for us at school. But she was unwilling to let us make excuses. Spelling was surprisingly hard for me, considering my large and growing vocabulary in elementary school and my high school reading comprehension by grade 4. This was probably because of the delay in my hearing (my ears were blocked until I was about 5 or 6), which in turn probably caused my speech difficulties in addition to some weakness in phonemic awareness . . . which we now know through reading readiness research is linked to spelling. My mom fought for a speech therapy IEP for me, but she also wasn't going to let me off the hook. Whatever lists of words I was practicing for speech, she adamantly inserted into our conversations at home. And I was drilled on spelling words every night.

Much the same was true for my brothers who were identified early as struggling with focus and concentration. She wasn't unwilling to adjust the daily schedule to include laps around the house to burn off energy before homework or dinner . . . or both. There was never any blame or lack of understanding. My brothers weren't berated for their struggles and I was never made to feel badly about my spelling or mushy speech, but I was expected to work on it and consistently get better. My brothers weren't excused from acting like human beings, but there was often plans on how to best make things work for them so they could function. There is a subtle but important difference there that I've come to appreciate as an educator who heard over and over, "Well he has _____ and that means he can't ______." Ahhhhhhhhhh!!

In my house it never meant "s/he can't" but instead: it might take longer, you might have to work harder at it, or we might have to do that a different way to make it feasible.

So, I have of course carried this view into the world. Differences in what is easy or hard for me about a task aside, I should just do it and find the way that makes it work. (Case in point: who thinks it's a good idea for an asthmatic with two bad knees to run? ME!) I look down on no one who medicates their ADD kids, but know that it's not necessary for all ADD kids. I also think that whatever intervention or therapy is used or not used, environment and expectation management at home bears huge relation to successful management of learning differences and challenges.

All of this has been on my mind for the last month as I have, alarmingly, noticed the marked increase in my own ADD tendencies. I was never diagnosed as a kid - I certainly rarely exhibit any hyperactivity, and I would add that this is why so few girls are diagnosed with ADD. But two therapists in my adult life have remarked on it. I CAN focus, but I don't always PREFER to focus on one thing at a time. Our current societal norms of texting, while I check my FB status and send an email, while drinking coffee and making a grocery list of course, do nothing to disuade this. The interestingly unanswerable question is: am I genetically wired to multi-task to the point of dissipating my focus or ability to concentrate on one thing? Or is it learned behavior from being surrounded by a family who rarely did one thing at a time, and never did it without fidgeting? Or both?

Whatever the case, it has always been true that even when it looks like I am doing one thing, it only looks that way - with a couple of important exceptions. By this I mean, I can do a very good impression of total focus, but when I'm taking a test, I'm also managing a panic attack, and when I'm on an important phone call, I'm probably also folding laundry or making a to-do list. When I'm running, I'm doing interview prep.

But there were always exceptions. It has always true that I could sit quietly and read or write. This was importantly true in my family of loud, chaotic, bouncing-off-the-walls-climbing-the-bookshelves (Literally - when my brother was less than 3 he was found sitting atop high things frequently having scaled his way to get there) people. If I needed to not be part of that, I could throw my legs over the side of an arm chair and read . . . for hours. I could escape to my room and write, and write, and write. Now, well, it's been months since I could read for more than 30 minutes at a time, which rings the alarm bell for me since that's the measure my brother used to pace himself in getting through college - study or read in 30 minute blocks and then go do something and start again. And I was doing fine on writing (maybe because I had so, so many feelings in so, so many directions as I go through all of this?) but the last month it's been harder and harder for me to gather myself together to sit in one place and collect my thoughts on one topic. I find myself, even when I don't mean to, avoiding it. Or sitting down to write, and then as I get up to pour coffee, drifting off through a series of actions I don't even realize are taking me farther and farther from the keyboard - coffee, mug, mugs are in dishwasher, dishwasher needs to be unloaded, unload, did I fold laundry?, check dryer, drink coffee and plan interview outfit, wash coffee cup and then all other dishes in sink . . .  and before I know it I'm multi-tasking four other things and a half an hour has gone by.

I have been struggling with focus since November when things got very hard and emotional on the job. I had a brief reprieve of peace and quiet in my brain when it looked like two or three job options were shaping up in February, but now . . . It's been four months and ADD is rearing it's head so much that I realized last night that I'm basically not watching TV because the thought of sitting in one place to watch something for 30-60 minutes sounds massively unappealingly uncomfortable to me unless I'm already exhausted, in which case I've found myself falling asleep to the three things I've tried to watch in the last couple of weeks. I mean, come on, unemployment is when you're supposed to sit around and watch TV!

Filling my days through only my own initiative was something I had to do every day for close to four years working as a remote, solo office here. But, of course, I was guided by deadlines, things that needed to get done for my instructors or supervisors, and the tasks involved in the work I was doing. Now, I have to generate not just the initiative and motivation, but the tasks themselves and the structure to do them in. It's been really tiring, if I'm being honest, and it has meant that I go to bed almost every night exhausted, ready to turn my brain off from this constant process. Not to mention, of course, staving off panic, anxiety, disappointment, and at times, depression.

Being tired and emotionally worn is definitely not helping with the ability to concentrate, but it also can't be entirely blamed since I've been tired and emotionally worn in the past and, you know, written 100 page thesis papers. More, I think, I feel ungrounded. And I need my feet to be a little more planted to sit quietly and read or write - it's hard to lean into only one thing when you're running in six directions, I think.

Here are some other strategies I'm thinking of:

• My mom made my brothers run around the house. Not as in "go out and play" but as in, "I think you should do eight laps tonight - I'll count and wave when you run by the window!" I probably need to run or walk every day, even when it's my "day off" from working out. Burn off some of the anxiety or whatever it is coursing through my veins these days.
• Conversely, my family never had much of the just sitting quietly and being going on. And this is something that I struggle with. I was so much better at it when I was walking as one of my two primary forms of transportation (see above), and had weekly practice from my attendance at Quaker meetings. But, when I do it I feel better. I feel like I know who and where I am. I feel . . . resolved and strong. So, I've decided to try the same thing I used to advocate to parents who asked me why Kumon work for their child started from such an easy point. I told them that the idea of doing something every day is actually hard - how many things could they say they do EVERY DAY without fail, after all (It's a short list for most adults. Something I became keenly aware of when I did a 365 days photo project in 2009-2010). I asked them to think about, if they wanted to do pushups every day - should they start with 50 pushups tomorrow having done none for the last several weeks? No, then they'd be too sore the day after to do any and the psychological process of building a new daily habit would have been disrupted. Start easy, build up to 50. Seems logical.
  
  So, for my meditation practice I'm following this suggestion of starting small - at first, 2 minutes a day. 
• Caffeine has helped me eat less and let's just be honest, I make some killer good coffee . . . but it is probably not helping me focus. I may not need to go all the way back to my 2 cups a month standard, but probably would do well to do less than coffee every day. And let me just own up - I love me some Diet Dr. Pepper but it has no redeeming value other than it being yummy. So, there's another source of caffeine I should let go of.
• Getting enough sleep is crucial - I will work to keep that out of all of this. It's been great to sleep 7-9 hours a night instead of calling 5-7 hours of broken a sleep a win, as I was in 2011.
• I probably need to make myself sit and read daily if I want to relocate that capacity.
• Similarly, I probably need to write some every day. Cover letters don't count, but this blog, my creative writing, and my journal do.
• I probably need to acknowledge that part of happy for me is having creative pursuits. In 2008 - 2009 a creative writing group, in 2009-2010 it was photography, every day, without fail, for 365. In 2010- 2011 it was all about performing and singing. Right now I'm putting so much towards staying afloat that I can't afford (literally) to sing, and I'm missing it. Writing is cheaper, but also complicated since it uses the same part of my skills that are being tapped to try and sell my wares to potential employers (write cover letter, adjust res, apply, lather, rinse, repeat.) I'm thinking the first thing on the list is to do some tutorials for the new (free!) photo tool someone awesome directed me to recently. It's also spring in Colorado, which, you know, is just the worst time to get out the fancy cam. (sarcasm)
• I also probably need to acknowledge that the times in the last 10 years when I was most grounded and focused, I was also pretty unhappy. Despite the stress of really-really NEEDING to find a job now, I'm pretty happy. I don't think this means that I can only be grounded when I'm grimly determined to beat tasks that are unsatisfying into submission, or that being content equals being all over the place. But it does probably mean that there's some renovation going on and that finding out what happy AND grounded looks like will likely be a process for awhile.
  
  

Now, one other thing. Diet. Both of my brothers (and I will proudly mention that they came to this conclusion after investigation that was instigated by a conversation with me) have determined they are "glutarded." I had seen the enormous health benefits of reducing or eliminating gluten when my Jewish family was able to resolve not just skin, celiac, and allergy concerns by taking it out of their kitchen, but were also seeing major improvement in their two children who had sensory based learning differences and/or hyperactivity. I mentioned it to my brothers, and though the notion was initially rejected, they both have become avid gluten-free eaters and have felt better for it. I have been "gluten-reduced" for 4 years now, and have always done full gluten cleanses at least twice a year to try and re-set my system. I may never trip the scales on the incredibly expensive test that medically diagnoses gluten allergy, but I know this: when I limit myself to one serving of gluten a day my energy level and concentration level go up, my skin issues and allergies are decreased. Not eliminated - it's not magic. But I'm less reactive.

It is harder to eat gluten free on a budget - fact. I do better than many because Boulder is pretty much the gluten-free (GF) capitol of the world, but replacing normal every-day items with GF ones is often expensive. I do my best to just take bread out of the equation most days, and have found a good source of oatmeal and rice cakes, that are not certified GF, but hav no wheat products or "natural flavorings" (the bane of anyone trying to track down hidden sources of gluten) in them. But when it comes to things like pizza, waffles, beer, bagels, and my person mainstay - low calorie snack bars (think nutri-grain or cliff bar type items) a person can easily spent $6 - $8 on the GF equivalent of something that for everyone else costs $2.99. So, I admit it - although I'm basically not a bread eater anymore and there is plenty of rice at my house, I need to meter my other carbs a little better. Or, you know, get a job and start being able to put the 8 GF items I enjoy back on my grocery list.

And, now, for the first time in the illustrious history of this blog (ha!) I will make an inside joke for my bestest friend everst's benefit. Rob, I need some FOCUS.

Broken

Have you ever broken a bone?

I know a couple of people who never have. One of those people is the last man I dated. I think people who have never made a scary trip to the ER or broken a bone have a misunderstanding about how much it hurts. It's not the worst thing to endure, but it's a big deal, and at the moment that it's happening it is the biggest thing in my world. The pain is real. Not insurmountable, but very, very real.

I broke my arm when I was 9 (badly). Bones just all in the wrong places.  I've broken toes over a dozen times (once in 5th grade, and several other times as a hazard of being a martial artist), broke my ankle and had a hairline fracture in a vertebrae in my neck due to a car accident when I was 24. Then of course, I have dislocated my knees a lot. While bones aren't broken in that process, the backs of my knee caps do now sport deep grooves in them from running up and over the fibula and tibia (I know, ewwwww).  I have had my share of the feeling of being broken. There is pain, the sick feeling after the initial pain subsides, the concern about what will happen next and if everything will heal the same.

So, I say this with real experience to back it up - there is a reason why we call it "breaking" up when a relationship is ending and it's because ending or changing something you thought you had with another person feels broken and jagged and hurty. There is a feeling of being broken, there is a sharp pain, a sick feeling, and a lot of concern about what happens next. Other people might not see your bones poking in the wrong direction, and you may be able to conceal it. There's no trip to the ER but it is a trauma. It's not easy to stop caring about someone (or caring as much about them as you did), and it does require a break from what you thought and knew and believed, and hoped. Breaking things usually means they don't go back together the exact same way. My arm did heal fully and only a good radiologist or medical examiner would be able to tell where the break was, but it took 4 months. My ankle and neck required 6 months of physical therapy. As for the rest,  my toes are noticeably crooked, and my knees will probably both need to be replaced by the time I'm 50. They will never be the same.

My break-ups have been similar experiences. Either it takes such an inordinate amount of time to pick up the pieces and try again, or I feel like I'm never quite the same afterwords. After the second time I was engaged,  when he left, I was literally left all alone in a state where I didn't know anyone, having moved here for him, and it was about 5 minutes after my dad died. The honest truth is that I was never the same after that. I got over feeling like I was worthless, I got over thinking I must not have meant anything to him for him to walk away so coldly, I stopped crying and eating frozen pizza. I dated, and made a life here. But I don't think I'll ever give up that much for someone again, no matter how much I love them. Maybe that's a good thing, because there are plenty of people who know and love me who would argue I accommodated too much in my relationship with him, but I also feel a little sad that I wasted all that trust and faith on someone so unworthy. I don't miss him but I'm disappointed that I gave so much to him and I miss believing in love and relationships that completely.

So, while I haven't been curled in the fetal position during this break-up, or cried inconsolably (I've cried three times, each time for less than 2 minutes) I wonder what lesson this break-up will teach me. To be friends after? To suck it up and move on? That I deserve more? Or something sadder, like, everyone leaves? It doesn't matter how hard I try, relationships don't work for me? Or, my deepest, darkest fear which if I write here will just sound like I'm begging for someone to refute it. And I'm not . . . I'm just considering it.

For now, I am trying very hard to remember a few things.

• No one can make me do something that's bad for me except me. As such, if I decide to get really drunk, or eat badly, that's on me. The break-up isn't an excuse for that.

• None of my goals should be changed by this. I still want to take better care of myself. I still want a career that better matches a lifestyle that allows for kids. I still want kids.

• I may feel awful, but it is no one's best interest for me to make them feel bad too. No one deserves for me to take this out on them - even him.

• If I find I need to have a real cry sometime, that's ok. 

• Drinking a lot will make me feel worse.

• Conversely, working out a lot will make me feel better, even if it doesn't always seem like it.

• When he says he is walking away because he loves me, I am allowed to reject that premise.

• If he talks about getting back together I am allowed to say 'no' and/or to hold him to a higher standard than I did this time.

• It's ok to have the standards that I do for my next relationship, and this break-up shouldn't change them.

• I am free to tell people I don't want to talk about it. Their feelings are not my responsibility, only my feelings are.

• It is completely reasonable that I start dating again ASAP, because I don't need to put more time into waiting for him. But it might not be fair to someone else. Need to think more on that.

• This is what therapists are for.

• This is what friends are for.

Biggest Loser

Ok, let m preface this by saying that I so know I have been slacking on this blog. This month has been brutal, and I realized today . . . bleeeeeehhhh it's only half over. With three trips, and unexpected work on my schedule, I just feel painted into corners. I have no choice but to be on the road at 6 am tomorrow. I have no choice but to have done 12 - 14 hour days last week. That means I had no choices other than to eat the food at the conference last week. I have no choice but to not get enough sleep tomorrow, and still work out after a long day.

If there is anything that I hate, it's not having control. (Ahem. Yes, I am probably too structured for my own good.) To be really honest, the reason I started this blog was because I felt out of control and in the dark about my weight. I wanted to shed some light on what was working and what was not working so that I could investigate it out of the closet, out of the dark. In my head I thought that if I could be more honest, and more accountable for my choices, more searching about my patterns and tendencies, I could see clearly how to take charge, be more in control, and head in a direction I felt better about.

To some degree that has been true. But in other areas of my life, I do feel that things are speeding out of control (ahem! Work!). It sounds tongue-in-cheek but man, if only I didn't have to take care of my life like an adult, I'd be all set to work out and eat right! If I didn't have to travel again tomorrow I wouldn't have to worry about what food choices or lack of choices I'll be facing. I wouldn't be worrying about running at 10pm. I wouldn't be worrying that something else would come up that felt more important than my needs. If I hadn't worked today, I could easily have NOT been where there were bagels. I could have not had to eat lunch in my car. If I didn't have to pack tonight I could have gotten in a second workout.

But then I also think about how HARD it is to not hear the voices in my head saying, just as loud as can be, "There is a whole store a mile away just full of popcorn, ice cream, and frozen pizza. Doesn't that sound like a nice place to visit?" Those voices lurk around every corner. I swear they come out of the heating vents in my car, "Chrrrrriiiiisssstie. Stop at the nearest Starbucks and get a pumpkin latte and cupcake. Mmmmm." They show up at the store, trailing around behind me as I shop, "Dude! Greek yogurt is good, but do you know what's better? The entire frozen dessert aisle." But they seem to LIVE in my couch, "You're just sitting here. Why exercise? Doesn't a bowl of popcorn sound better?" I swear when I bought this couch it came with a speaker system I didn't know about that selectively broadcasts that misleading, evil voice.

What I really want is to be like all other addicts and go to rehab. I want to take a time-out on my life, go away, and put my focus on my issue. I want to locate a place inside myself that understands, deep down that this problem is forever, but that also doesn't mean I have to be haunted for forever. I want to build strategies without having to at the same time, solve a crisis at work, book flights for my mom to come for Christmas, think about family drama, or have a hard conversation with my boyfriend. I often think, "Everyone else gets to get sober before they have to deal with life and people!" (But I also realize that that may not be true. that there are probably a lot of people moving in and out of AA meetings who have to go home and cook dinner, pay bills, or have a fight with their spouse.)

I know that the difference between my addiction, and say, an alcoholic or drug addict, is that I can't not eat. I have to do the thing that causes me to be out of control. I can't decide not to go to the bar. I can't sever ties with my dealer. My drug is something that everyone needs in moderation, whereas "cocaine in moderation" doesn't sound like a recipe for health. (Anyone who knows of my Margaret Cho obsession will understand that the phrase "in moderation" constantly makes me think of her talking about her mother working at the book store and unpacking gay porn. Tee hee!) This means that my drug will always be a part of my life and my dealer shows up at every meal, party, most social interactions, work meetings, and inhabits every street corner. Moreover, I have to accept that in order to function in life, I have to be ok with showing up at parties that are unlikely to have cocaine or meth, but will almost always have food. And not just food, but trigger foods - maybe not everyone will serve the now infamous Cheezits but odds are that there'll be popcorn, or candy, or pizza, or something yummy for dessert, or honey roasted peanuts, or . . . or . . . or.

So, maybe it's not realistic to think that going to be somewhere outside of my stressful life would give me some opportunity I don't have. But I also have to accept so many instances of not being able to measure and prepare my food, so many times where I have to eat what's served, so many times where my choices are to work out or sleep, so many times where there isn't enough time for me to fold my laundry, much less take on the giant project of searching myself for how to overcome this and change.

So, yeah, I'll just admit it - I watch The Biggest Loser. Yup, I do. I know this show is highly produced, and I know that it's not anyone's reality, least of all mine, much less something to strive for. Of course, the fact that there are people who lose 100 pounds in 10 weeks catches my eye but also makes me wonder if that can possibly be a good thing). But it's more than that. It's not the prizes and money. It's not the fancy gym or makeovers. It's not the celebrities. It's that every single contestant has to to shed weight, but along the way they also all - down to the last one of them - overcome an emotional roadblock. Over the years of watching whatever weight loss shows are out there, it has become clear to me that for almost everyone fighting this fight this is an emotional disease much more than a physical one. I don't think that is the message of this show, and in fact, I think they do a pretty bad job of portraying it, but that is what I am tuned to see - it's the fact that people don't get fat primarily because they're lazy, ignorant of their situation or what would help, or unable to do something about it. People get heavy for the same reasons I eat out of control sometimes . . . because it is easier to do that than solving their other issues. 

But what really keeps me coming back for more is that they get to leave behind the lifestyle that enabled their unhealthy patterns - at least for a little while. If they're lucky, they get to do it for long enough to start to form new patterns and habits. (And it doesn't hurt that the trainers are hot)

I long for that. I mean, I don't actually want to be on the show, because seriously peeps, I do NOT look pretty when I sweat. And ohhhh-eeeem-geee it's hard enough to get on a scale with just myself in the room. It gives me goosebumps to think about doing it on TV week after week. And let's be clear, that scale has HUGE numbers making every bad result that much more horrifying. Shiver! But the privilege to put all my energy and resources into putting my feet firmly on a better path, oh, how it calls to me.

I think there may be a "grass is greener" thought process here. I know that rehab isn't a vacation, and Biggest Loser contestants walk away from their jobs, true, but being on the show becomes their job for however long it lasts. Anyone who goes away to rehab, boot camp, or whatever other program, has to give up control, and the comfort and support of friends and family. But maybe, just maybe, my life is unhealthy in ways beyond my addiction. Maybe, just maybe my job stress contributes to how slowly I progress down this path. Maybe, just maybe if I could walk away from all of that for a few weeks (and NOT go to the Biggest Loser ranch, but go somewhere else aimed at healthy weight loss and getting to the bottom of what caused the weight gain) I might be able to better cement in new ways to be me.

In the meantime, I am thinking long and hard about salads and late night runs in Utah. Send me your support, good thoughts, resolve, prayers, and anything else you got!