3 Myths About Weight Loss

Posted on by
5

Embrace your colors!

November 2012 marks 19 years since I found the solution to my obesity and my food obsession. Effective this month I have been abstinent for 19 years from sugar, wheat and flour. I also weigh and measure all my meals (except in restaurants where I order carefully and moderately). One day at a time I’m maintaining a 100-pound weight loss.

It’s a miracle, for sure. To celebrate, I want to expose three myths about food and weight and recovery from obesity.

Myth #1: Relapse is inevitable. No, it’s not. Sometimes in addiction circles you hear that relapse is part of recovery. My take: Relapse happens. But it doesn’t have to and it’s not required. That we can learn from relapse, sure. With any degree of grace, we learn from any and every painful thing that happens. But there’s no need to set ourselves up for the pain. I worry that thinking relapse is inevitable makes folks relax their guard and lighten up on the hard work of recovery. Not wanting to do what it takes to make a good life, that’s human nature. Nobody is gung-ho all the time. But we don’t have to sink down into the I-don’t-wannas. We can rise above, recoup our commitment to our best interest and move back into doing those things we know keep us healthy and sane.

Myth #2: You shouldn’t deprive yourself. There are certain false truths that get repeated over and over in the popular media coverage of weight loss. The biggest one is, “Don’t give up something totally. Eventually it’ll come around to bite you double-time.” I know what they’re trying to say. They don’t want you to be a martyr to the weight loss cause. They don’t want you holding your breath waiting for that croissant at the end of the rainbow. Let’s be careful here what we call deprivation, though. There are a lot of us who truly have a biochemical sensitivity to certain foods—and the only way to be free is to give them up totally. By God’s grace, I have not had one speck of sugar, wheat and flour in 19 years. Am I deprived? Are you kidding? I have been liberated! Do you truly want to be at the beck and call of a cookie? If you start eating something and then can’t stop, doesn’t it make sense never to start? You only have to do this one day at a time. Don’t give it up, promising you’ll have it one day. Give it up promising yourself it’s just for today. (After all, today is all anyone has, right?) That’s how I made 19 years.

Myth #3: Just eat less and move more. That’s only two-thirds of the truth. What works for long-term recovery is, eat less, move more, believe in something or someone greater than yourself. If we give up things (kinds and quantities of food we think we need or love) without replacing them with healthy things (a power greater than ourselves), we set ourselves up for a fall. We have to nurture our inner life, our spiritual side, our soul, to grow in health. I struggled with this higher power stuff for a long time. But gradually over the years I have found a higher power, through observing the joys of nature, feeling the power of connection with people I love and respect, through reading ancient and modern texts written by those who’ve had these struggles before me. When I feel depleted, instead of reaching for something of the world, I can fill myself up with spiritual sustenance. Prayer. Meditation. Readings. Writings. Journaling. Connecting with others. Yes, I must eat right. Yes, I must exercise. And yes, I must build spiritual muscle.

Spiritual Lessons from Sandy

Posted on by
Reply

Spin me around in a hurricane, and I am going to have, as they say, “issues.”

As in, everything is a learning experience.

The hurricane itself barely affected me, relative to those who lost loved ones, homes, or important belonging. Yes, my family endured five cold, dark days without power in our New Jersey home. And still, we’re dealing with gas lines, minor food shortages and, sometimes, short tempers.

But Sandy did hit me where I live—in the safety bone. Safety is a big deal for me. Always has been. A bumpy childhood will do that to you. Minus heat and light and hot water and my normal routines, minus the sense that all was well in my community, I went a little off center. I wasn’t surprised—you can’t be comfortable in an uncomfortable situation, after all—but I did know I was going to have some work to do.

At the end of our Sandy Week, when the power came on—light! heat! hot water!—I sat still and quiet with how discombobulated I’d been. How attached to my material comforts. How unhinged to have them taken away.

I sat, and ever-so-gently breathed down into all that fear and confusion. That in turn took me to places where there were still the bits and pieces of wounds, places where other people had hurt me.

And while I was there in that place I asked, “How can I protect myself?”

What is required, my viscera informed me, is absolute reliance on the power greater than myself that lives in me, as me.

“But how do I do that?” was the next question. “What does reliance on a higher power, and not things of the world, what does that look and feel like?” Extreme self-nurture, was the answer. Radical self-love. Recognizing that I need to forgive myself for being vulnerable, and forgive others for their own frailties. Lean on myself more, things and other people’s opinions, less.

There was more: Honor my inner light by sharing my experience, strength and hope. Take good care of my body and mind. Give and receive love in everyday actions, small and large. Prayer time, and meditation, too.

I wish it were easier. I really do. But there it is. Breathing in, breathing out. Building my spiritual muscles. Taking life on life’s terms, just for today. That’s where the safety is.

Truthfully, I’m not all that excited about my options. I’m addicted to guarantees, sunshine and happy endings.

But this ever-deepening reliance on a higher power, well, if that’s where it’s at, count me in! You?

 

 

 

 

 

Somebody Turn On the Silence!

Posted on by
1

Adirondack magic. Perfect place for silence.

Does silence carry the same weight as noise? Is quiet as valuable a life commodity as talk, TV, radio, video, movies, music?

Yesterday I was at the gym. The gym is a public place, and people, within reason, will do what people will do. Which is to say, talk nonstop for 20 minutes in the hot tub. And talk. And talk. While the music from the speakers blasts. Nice music. Happy talk. But could I have gone to someone in charge and said, “Could we now have 20 minutes of complete silence?”

Probably not.

In my home, I sometimes insist, during the negotiations about who gets custody of the remote, that opting for an hour of no TV is as viable an option as a certain channel.  Occasionally, if I insist with a bit of gusto, we do have the gift of that hour.

Silence is powerful. Silence is not nothing. Silence is rich and full and allows us to be with ourselves without interference or mediation. A lovely book I read recently was about a woman who for almost a decade kept every Monday a silent day. She had a  husband, two sons, responsibilities. But maintaining silence kept her centered and whole, and gave her to herself in a unique way.

I don’t have the courage yet to inject that sort of practice into my schedule. But I aspire to it. I think it would nourish and sustain me. I crave peace, serenity, simplicity. Silence gives me those.

Over the years I have gone on several silent weekend retreats. Delicious!  This was not an enforced silence, like in second grade when the scary teacher threatened some horrid punishment if you made a peep. This was a chosen silence. There were others present. We didn’t talk. We smiled at one another, handed each other a coffee cup, held a door. We were in silence, together. Our silence was rich.

Even during the day, when I choose to turn off NPR, skip Netflix, take a few moments to just be, I am nurtured. I can hear that still small voice, the me that lives in me as me.

That’s  a gift.

I love people, conversation, TV, music, NPR, Netflix. But I love silence, too. You?

Can You Count to 1000?

Posted on by
Reply

My friend Lee recommended the book One Thousand Gifts, not for the story, but for a grand idea it contained. The book itself wasn’t my taste (I skimmed through at Barnes & Noble), but its winning principle is to make a list of 1,000 things you’re grateful for, without ever repeating anything.

So a few weeks ago I started a gratitude journal. Every night before bed I write down at least four or five things I’m grateful for. What is so very cool is that once you’ve run through things like good health, shelter, nice food, gorgeous weather—the obvious stuff—well, you have to look a little deeper. Remember, you can’t list something more than once. I’m up to 289.

At one point, I decided to get really optimistic, and I listed a whole bunch of stuff I would be thankful for were it to appear. A full-time job. A new couch. My guy to win the upcoming election. A self-cleaning house. A puppy who comes with a trust fund and a full-time trainer. Peace on earth. Like that.

But mostly I reflect on my day, what I saw, did and experienced. To do that, I’ve during the day I need to look for things to write down. And with all this looking for things to list, what’s happened is I’ve become more alert and aware. The more I look, the more I see. The more I see, the more I look.

Do this and the next thing you know, you are in the moment. In your life. Right there smack dab in the middle of it, right where you belong. And you’re in that soft and powerful place of knowing that no matter what’s going on in your life you can find beauty, joy, kindness in yourself and in the world around you.

Now that’s a gift, don’t you think?

Forget Self-Love. Try Self-TRUST!

Posted on by
1

Love yourself ! I hear this non-stop from all the villagers allied to help me stay safe, sane and joyful. They’ve been telling me this for about a billion years.

And it’s good advice for someone chugging along toward ever-greater mental, emotional and physical good health. I have no quarrel with this wisdom. In pursuit of peace of mind, I worked hard to drop destructive behaviors like eating foods that are bad for me, shopping till the credit card wore out, mean-spirited gossiping, listening to bad advice, etc., etc.

I showed up and chanted “I love you, Gay. I love you, Gay,” just like a mentor taught me, even though it felt really weird. I gave myself real little hugs, took long soak-y baths, bought scented lotion and learned that “No” is a complete sentence. I began to to advocate for my own needs, exercise, manage money responsibly, and to make the haircut appointment well before the Do turns into a Don’t.

It worked, some. But oh, the mind-habit of negative self-talk was dying a slow, hard death. And it can bring you down into depression and defeatism in nothing flat.

I decided, based on the number of angry, resentful thoughts, that the next step was to do some hard-core forgiveness work. Sure folks have done me wrong. But do I want them living rent-free in my head as I ruminate? I think not. And I knew I also needed liberation from the grudges against myself. Sure I’ve made mistakes. But should I be punished forever? Nah.

For years, on and off, I’ve written and chanted the affirmation, “I forgive myself for hurting myself. I forgive myself for hurting others. I forgive others for hurting me.” It’s powerful, and I highly recommend it. As in, what you focus on tends to grow, and all.

Recently I’ve taken to working diligently with Belleruth Naparstek’s CD, “Anger and Forgiveness.”  After lunch, a rest with Belleruth’s guided imagery and affirmations is a thrice-weekly routine. Oh, the places we go! Way down into the deep hurt that was under that enormous pile of grudge. Stay with it, feel into it. Process it.

And into the mix came my spiritually focused peer support group. Last Saturday, because I was leading the meeting, I invited recovering folks to address the topic, “Anger, forgiveness and acceptance.” Wow! Did I get an earful.

For me the pivotal moment was when someone said, “When you forgive someone, that doesn’t mean you have to trust them.” Right. But the next question is, well, if I’m not going to trust people, who will I trust? God as I understand God is the obvious answer. But what does that actually mean, I thought.

Trust yourself! That was the answer! God lives in you as you, Liz Gilbert says in Eat. Pray. Love. Yes!

I accepted the challenge.

And since then, when the scared, anxious, defeatist, depressive thoughts rise, I’ve been relaxing my tense belly, dropping my tight shoulders and saying, “Trust yourself.” Wham! Away goes the nonsense about figuring out the “right” or “perfect” thing. I can be in me, as me!

Slipping out of that, into “trust yourself” makes things so simple.

Whew! That’s a load off. I can be trusted. I trust myself. Love is good. I love love. But trust, well, that’s a form of love in action, don’t you think?

Trust yourself. It really works. Trust me.

 

Growing Up Is Hard to Do!

Posted on by
3

I discovered this poem on a friend’s refrigerator magnet. Whew! I could not find the author, so if you know, do tell. In the meantime, I love how it gently and firmly reminds me of a few things: Joy is mine. Joy is not guaranteed, it has to be claimed. I have to do what I have to do. I can only do what I can do. Compassion is power, gentleness is strength. There is no magic but there is possibility, potential, hope and acceptance of life on life’s terms is freedom. This, my dear ones, is how we become grown up.

 Miracles Happen

 After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love doesn’t mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts.

And presents aren’t promises.

And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open.

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all your roads on today

because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain,

and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone else to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure.

That you really are strong.

And you really do have worth.

And you learn and learn.

With every goodbye you learn.

 

 

 

Getting God to Answer

Posted on by
6

The one who made the flower made me and thee.

When I am honestly in quest of the true truths, not succumbing to the crap my monkey mind churns out, I dialog in my journal with God. I do not do this nearly often enough, but when I do, it can really be wonderful. Like a conversation, even.

I should tell you I don’t have the kind of HP who jumps in front of me with visions and things. I have friends who say they receive insights and direction this way and I believe them. I am also aware that my HP knows visions would freak me out, so instead gives me clues. These are not feathers or leaves gently floating into my face just when I’m asking for a message from heaven. They’re not pennies that show up in odd spots at right times the way they do for Dear Abby readers.

My HP is more subtle.  When I get guidance, it tends to be an intense, cool, calm sensation of power and clarity below thought and feeling, directly under my breast bone. These sensations can, however, be subject to interpretation, and require that I sit still to receive them. I have trouble with this.

So sometimes, like I said, when the brain is more or less in place and fitting properly, I actually think to ask in writing what I need to know. And often the answers just come as I write along. Some random examples culled from the last few weeks’ journals:

Gay: How many mistakes are too many?

God: Try and find out. All mistakes are forgivable. Humans are innately good. If you have done evil, it’s because you have moved away from the source of good. When you move back into the light, all will be well.

Gay: How much work is enough?

God: You have to do what you have to do. You can only do what you can do. (I first heard this from a friend when we were sharing a cube and I was overwhelmed and freaking out. God is happy to use anything and everything to deliver a message. HP also doesn’t seem to mind having to repeat things. Which is good because I seem to be a slow learner on some of this stuff.)

Gay: Where is the money?

God: Do you have what you need? (God sometimes talks like a shrink.)

Gay: How much am I allowed to have?

God: As much as you need.

Gay: But I feel guilty.

God: Keeping yourself poor in body, mind and spirit does not help people who are poor. Nor does taking excess beyond your needs. You are not a princess. (Ouch!) You are not a pauper. (Yay!)

Gay: What is my right work?

God: What do you want to do?

Gay: What do you want me to do?

God: I created you as you. You are Gay. Be Gay. (Now God’s sounding like my mom. How come moms and God never tell you what that means?????)

Gay: What is death?

God: (Silence.)

Gay: Why won’t you tell me?

God:  I will.

Gay: When?

God: Not now.

Gay: Sometimes I hate you.

God: I know.

Gay: Aren’t you going to smite me?

God: Nope. I’m over that. (God has a sense of humor. I hope. Right. Hmmm. Maybe I should ask?)

Gay: Do you have a sense of humor?

God: Kangaroo.

Gay: Right. Thanks.

God: You’re welcome.

Gay: Seriously?

God: Seriously.

 

Love God, Do What You Want

Posted on by
Reply

Freedom is wanting what you need.

Say what? First time I heard this saying, I thought, Whoa, now this is getting scary. But I thought about it some more. And some more.

Then I put it away for awhile and let it season. Meanwhile, I continued my usual clunky, woefully imperfect prayer and meditation practices.

And lo and behold I began to see the simple wisdom of aligning myself with all that’s good in the universe, then going ahead and doing what my own personal desire was telling me.

It’s simple, really. If I am living in the light, what I want will be what’s best for all.

Years ago I had a spiritual director, Kathy Duffy. I was having such a hard time. Could not see, feel or experience God, try as I might. I could sometimes take in miracles around me, and I knew enough to make a gratitude list whenever I was in a funk.

But I just wasn’t sure where this personal higher power I’d been hearing about was. I knew it was not some bearded white guy in a robe in the sky. (That had to be a notion invented by bearded white guys. Seriously. If God was any kind of guy at all, which seemed doubtful to me, he probably was a cool swarthy dude who looked more like my husband.) Kathy  explained that I am closest to God when I am most myself. As in, Gay-God, God-Gay.

Well, as my Dad would have said, how ‘bout them apples?

I experimented. Probably because I come from Puritan stock, or maybe because I still fear being sent to the principal’s office more than death itself, I didn’t go crazy. Which is good, because loving God and doing what you want does not mean a free-for-all.

What I learned is that I’ve got to keep checking in. Otherwise that other critter, the will, will take over. The Gay-Will, Will-Gay.  The one who says, let’s have lunch now, though it’s 10:30 in the morning and I have work to do.  The one who tells me it’s okay to stay up till all hours watching Tom Selleck in Jesse Stone on Netflix. The one who leaps before she looks and speaks before she thinks.  Nope. Gay-Will is just not an okay guide. She’s too connected to venal desires, not spiritual wants.

Instead, I have to keep going back to the source. I have to sustain the relationship with that part of myself that’s good and wise. Respect and hear her. That way, we’ll all sleep better at night.

Which means that today’s assignment, and I do choose to accept it, is to receive and give love. And then, go ahead and do what I want.

Make sense? What about you? How’s the whole God/will/wants thing working for you?

The Marines Made a Woman Out of Me

Posted on by
6

Well, sort of.

Full disclosure: I am not now, nor have I ever an actual, factual Marine. Nor have I played one on TV, though I did wear my brother Dale’s Army fatigue shirt a lot during the 60’s.

No, what I’m referring to is the story in Sunday’s New York Times about how women are soon to be invited into the inner sanctums of barf-your-guts up, have-a-heart-attack-and-die Marine training.

I think it’s great for women to have all the opportunities a man does (though, frankly, I’m a bigger fan of the talk forms of peace-making than the attempts that use violence).

But what got me was the line: “…let a guy dig down and find himself.” I know that’s a phrase guys use a lot for these intense physical things they get themselves into (like when you’re down by a run and the count is 3 and 2  in the bottom of the ninth)

It’s also a phrase, though, that’s pretty familiar to those of us on the road to an ever cleaner way of living, where nothing comes between us and pure, unadulterated living. Nothing. Not excess or toxic food, not drink, not shopping-till-we’re dropping, not even obsessing over this that and the other thing.

In my life, I’ve dug pretty deep, as have my pals who are trying every day to make a good and decent life.

Sometimes what I’ve seen has been pretty scary. One of the scariest things is knowing that there’s always more to learn. But on a good day, that’s also the fun stuff, especially when we drop cruel judgements and just, well, take a deep breath and hang in there. Dig down, I mean.

Are you a digger? I am. I have to be. Not in a warlike way on myself or my life, God help us. Honesty without compassion is violence, says Pema Chodron, author, among other things, of, When Things Fall Apart.  But mining for the true me is the only way I know how to live, clean, abstinent and sober from all the junk that wants to take me down.

From Pema’s book I distilled the following as the ideal approach to the mining process:

When life nails you:

  1. Stop there. Hold
  2. Don’t act out
  3. Don’t repress
  4. Don’t blame it on anyone else
  5. Don’t blame it on yourself
  6. AND you will meet with an open-ended question that has no conceptual answer
  7. AND you will encounter your heart

Thus trained, you’ll be ready for anything.

Cold Water Courage

Posted on by
2

You don't have to run. But you do have to jump.

Meditation is so hard. Years ago I came to believe that a good life requires self-knowledge of a certain sort—non-judgmental awareness of my human and spiritual aspects. An informed awareness, I was told by a mentor, brings with it the possibility, maybe even the guarantee, of healing. Other peer mentors prescribed meditation as the ideal form of continuing this education. So I’ve been trying to suit up and show up and sit.

But I’m a world-class fidgeter, not to mention incredibly distractible. I’m meditating one minute, then pitching clothes into the dryer the next. What just happened?

Okay, not getting hijacked by the laundry, or a family member’s request, or that weird thump from the street, or the urgent need to check my e-mail again, that’s relatively manageable. Pick a time. Choose a space where I’m not likely to be interrupted. (The side of the tub will do in a pinch. Trust me.) Sit. Sit. Sit.

So far, so good. But then there’s the inner stuff. The monkey mind. The racing thoughts. I may be in the chair, but my head is in the kitchen starting dinner, or ruminating on past events or possible coming attractions. The cure is to simply watch the thoughts, neither pushing them away nor grabbing onto them for embellishment. To stay with watching them rather than working them up, I repeatedly come back to my breath. This is a challenge, but it’s do-able. There’s even a rhythm: It gets away, you reel it in. It gets away, you reel it in.

But then there’s the moment when there’s just me, myself and I, and I really, really do not want to sink down into my inner self. It feels just too…too risky. What might I see, feel, hear? Yikes! Run! says some part of me, though this message tends not to come as words, but as a gut-clenching physical sensation. What next?

I’ve come to think of this as the cold water moment. I’ve been told it’s common, maybe even universal, among meditators. It’s the moment when I need to take the plunge, just like when I’m swimming and the water’s cold and I must just…GO!…knowing that there will be a shock, and I will gasp.

More and more I’m able to do this. And I’m so glad, because the willingness to plunge in, endure the gasp, and stay the course, informs the rest of my life. With this work I am exercising my emotional-spiritual muscles. I grow stronger. And then I am able to face challenges with the same courage.

There’s nothing of the world that can guarantee me comfort or safety. But there is something in me, of me, that can—if I’m willing to jump in and sit with it. I don’t pretend to have all the answers. No human does. But at least now I know where the path is, and what to do when the cold water moment comes.

What’s your experience? Where does your courage come from? How do you build up your inner strength?