I'm Sorry

I wish I could tell you all that I am sorry. I feel so bad for humanity. I see things on my twitter feed that crush my heart and I feel so bad that other people hurt. I am sorry. I am sorry that you hurt. If it helps, even though you don't know me or even know that I exist, I hurt for you. I hurt for your disappointment and discomfort. I hurt for the things that didn't go as you expected. I hurt for your lonely moments and your destroyed hearts and for bad days that you didn't even expect.

I am sorry.

I wish the world was a better place for you. I don't know why it can suck so bad at times. I guess a good part of that is just perspective.

I wish I could stop it all for you so you could feel like you have finally caught up.

Anxious Attachment Style

Anyone who knows me here or in real life will know I actively see a therapist and have been for many years. It has helped me understand myself and things in my life. I strongly believe that you don't even have to get to a point of being sick to see a therapist. I use mine as a way of maintaining my mental health and ensuring that I don't get sick. My therapist has changed over the years as my issues have evolved and people have moved away or come back.

Currently, I have been seeing a therapist who has taught me about myself in a relationship. I have recently learnt that I have, what is called, anxious-preoccupied attachment style. I think anyone who knows me would agree to this.

I am activated in my relationship right now. I am scared. SO SCARED and I have no idea why... and the relationships that I have been in that I have cared about the person a lot, I have also experienced this. Now it makes sense and it makes sense why I react to things in a certain way.

I haven't always been this way. I had a long-term relationship in my early to mid-20s that totally fucked me up. My part was I was young-- younger than my age-- and naive. I lacked the maturity to leave and the experience to know you can't love a person better. This relationship was filled with adult issues and I was fresh out of a secure, loving relationship so this destroyed a large part of me. As result, I expected people to always be like this person. I started looking for clues to avoid being blindsided, etc. I learnt to also be avoidant and independent, so I stopped having these attached relationships and ended up just having these unemotional, "secure" events.

I am currently in something that has me attached. I am in love. I care for someone and see a future, but as a result, I am experiencing things I haven't experienced in a long time. FEELLINGS and relationship anxiety.

Here is an excellent article for what I need:
5 things you should know about dating someone with an anxious attachment style

The Thing About Love

I went years without feeling love. I questioned its existence and if it was a real emotion. Was it even an emotion at all? Maybe it was just hormones and changes that happen in your late teens and early 20's. Maybe it was the vulnerability that occurs when acts that challenge us early on become the focus of relationships. And then we get used to it, uur minds become tougher and we become locked in stubbornness and safety. 

I went to therapy and spent many sessions doubting that I was even capable of love. My therapist would ask me to think about past relationships, or my parents, or my friends, and the only real feelings I could pull out from the vapid void was that of hurt. Pain. Disappointment. I care a lot of people, things, and places. I want good for those who I feel close to. I want to support and I care. But that wasn't a feeling. It was just this drive in my head that wanted good things for good people. If anything, the feelings I had were just worry at times. 

Anytime I did feel a flutter in my tummy and an attachment to another person, it always ended in some firey nosedive that left me limp from the rollercoaster ride of trying to make it work. I learned that to feel something for another person would mean that it was wrong because they would leave. I learned that if I opened myself up, the other person would kick down the door still,  take what they needed (possibly pay), and then run out the door never to be seen again. And those who did tread lightly through the threshold, knocking before they entered, and always asking before they could take, those people I just didn't care. I never ever left anything of value for them to take. Go ahead, I don't care if you take those expired newspapers and a worn out sock. 

So here I am today. My store has been restocked and once again I have left the door unlocked and open. There are items that I care about on the shelves and although I haven't completely stopped paying attention to what this person is doing when they come in, I see that they are a little different, for now, but it's left me without protection. So I panic. I open and close the door, unlock the door when no one is looking and lock it up sometimes just as this person is reaching for the handle. What a messed up thing, but they don't seem to mind. Maybe they don't even know that they are coming and going from my store. Maybe they don't even think they need anything and are just browsing as they pass the time waiting for another shop to open down the street. Or maybe they only have a credit card, and I just take cash so a possible transaction might not happen anyways. 

Really, I just have these feelings and it's weird. And I am happy to love another person even though I am scared to say so. But I feel it so much in my heart. and I am scared. and I want to work on it. And I want to be happy because I deserve to have what I want and what I need. I just want to love, support, and compliment another person; and I want the same for me. I've stopped waking up in the middle of the night in tears from the decade of loneliness I have felt, regardless of the unease I feel when I am unable to connect and tap into that other person in ways that I need. I just want to be seen, understood, and loved. 

that's the end of that thought!

Can't Stop-- Won't Stop the Qoutes

I've come across many things that I want to quote and it's only 7:45 am on a Wednesday. I suspect that maybe many of you aren't even awake yet (though I hope you are because otherwise, you are wasting your life sleeping! Just kidding... maybe) 

First, there was this about Anais Nin and about emotional excess and how it relates to creative writing (this is why I have this blog. It's the place I come to deal with all my emotional excess)

You must not fear, hold back, count or be a miser with your thoughts and feelings. It is also true that creation comes from an overflow, so you have to learn to intake, to imbibe, to nourish yourself and not be afraid of fullness. The fullness is like a tidal wave which then carries you, sweeps you into experience and into writing. Permit yourself to flow and overflow, allow for the rise in temperature, all the expansions and intensifications. Something is always born of excess: great art was born of great terrors, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them.

And then, of course, today is the birthday of the amazing Nina Simone, so I found this which lead me to another article about T.S. Elliot whom you might remember is the writer of another poem I am so in love with.

Time present and time pastAre both perhaps present in time futureAnd time future contained in time past.If all time is eternally presentAll time is unredeemable.What might have been is an abstractionRemaining a perpetual possibilityOnly in a world of speculation.What might have been and what has beenPoint to one end, which is always present.Footfalls echo in the memoryDown the passage which we did not takeTowards the door we never openedInto the rose-garden. My words echoThus, in your mind.But to what purposeDisturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leavesI do not know.Other echoesInhabit the garden. Shall we follow?Quick, said the bird, find them, find them,Round the corner. Through the first gate,Into our first world, shall we followThe deception of the thrush? Into our first world.There they were, dignified, invisible,Moving without pressure, over the dead leaves,In the autumn heat, through the vibrant air,And the bird called, in response toThe unheard music hidden in the shrubbery,And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rosesHad the look of flowers that are looked at.There they were as our guests, accepted and accepting.So we moved, and they, in a formal pattern,Along the empty alley, into the box circle,To look down into the drained pool.Dry the pool, dry concrete, brown edged,And the pool was filled with water out of sunlight,And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly,The surface glittered out of heart of light,And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.Go, go, go, said the bird: human kindCannot bear very much reality.Time past and time futureWhat might have been and what has beenPoint to one end, which is always present.
II
Garlic and sapphires in the mudClot the bedded axle-tree.The trilling wire in the bloodSings below inveterate scarsAppeasing long forgotten wars.The dance along the arteryThe circulation of the lymphAre figured in the drift of starsAscend to summer in the treeWe move above the moving treeIn light upon the figured leafAnd hear upon the sodden floorBelow, the boarhound and the boarPursue their pattern as beforeBut reconciled among the stars.
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where.And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time.The inner freedom from the practical desire,The release from action and suffering, release from the innerAnd the outer compulsion, yet surroundedBy a grace of sense, a white light still and moving,Erhebung without motion, concentrationWithout elimination, both a new worldAnd the old made explicit, understoodIn the completion of its partial ecstasy,The resolution of its partial horror.Yet the enchainment of past and futureWoven in the weakness of the changing body,Protects mankind from heaven and damnationWhich flesh cannot endure.Time past and time futureAllow but a little consciousness.To be conscious is not to be in timeBut only in time can the moment in the rose-garden,The moment in the arbour where the rain beat,The moment in the draughty church at smokefallBe remembered; involved with past and future.Only through time time is conquered.
III
Here is a place of disaffectionTime before and time afterIn a dim light: neither daylightInvesting form with lucid stillnessTurning shadow into transient beautyWtih slow rotation suggesting permanenceNor darkness to purify the soulEmptying the sensual with deprivationCleansing affection from the temporal.Neither plentitude nor vacancy. Only a flickerOver the strained time-ridden facesDistracted from distraction by distractionFilled with fancies and empty of meaningTumid apathy with no concentrationMen and bits of paper, whirled by the cold windThat blows before and after time,Wind in and out of unwholesome lungsTime before and time after.Eructation of unhealthy soulsInto the faded air, the torpidDriven on the wind that sweeps the gloomy hills of London,Hampstead and Clerkenwell, Campden and Putney,Highgate, Primrose and Ludgate. Not hereNot here the darkness, in this twittering world.
Descend lower, descend onlyInto the world of perpetual solitude,World not world, but that which is not world,Internal darkness, deprivationAnd destitution of all property,Dessication of the world of sense,Evacuation of the world of fancy,Inoperancy of the world of spirit;This is the one way, and the otherIs the same, not in movementBut abstention from movement; while the world movesIn appetency, on its metalled waysOf time past and time future.
IV
Time and the bell have buried the day,the black cloud carries the sun away.Will the sunflower turn to us, will the clematisStray down, bend to us; tendril and sprayClutch and cling?ChillFingers of yew be curledDown on us? After the kingfisher’s wingHas answered light to light, and is silent, the light is stillAt the still point of the turning world.
V
Words move, music movesOnly in time; but that which is only livingCan only die. Words, after speech, reachInto the silence. Only by the form, the pattern,Can words or music reachThe stillness, as a Chinese jar stillMoves perpetually in its stillness.Not the stillness of the violin, while the note lasts,Not that only, but the co-existence,Or say that the end precedes the beginning,And the end and the beginning were always thereBefore the beginning and after the end.And all is always now. Words strain,Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,Will not stay still. Shrieking voicesScolding, mocking, or merely chattering,Always assail them. The Word in the desertIs most attacked by voices of temptation,The crying shadow in the funeral dance,The loud lament of the disconsolate chimera.
The detail of the pattern is movement,As in the figure of the ten stairs.Desire itself is movementNot in itself desirable;Love is itself unmoving,Only the cause and end of movement,Timeless, and undesiringExcept in the aspect of timeCaught in the form of limitationBetween un-being and being.Sudden in a shaft of sunlightEven while the dust movesThere rises the hidden laughterOf children in the foliageQuick now, here, now, always —Ridiculous the waste sad timeStretching before and after.

"Let Us Go Then, You and I... "

Growing up, my mum used to recite the first few lines of this poem whenever we were leaving to go on some kind of a trip to the store, doctor, or down the street. As it was the case with my mum, and now with me, she got many of the words wrong. Ask me to sing a song from start to finish, I know the tune and the guitar riffs, but damn if I can't get 60% of the lyrics correct.

So, when I came across the below poem again, I read the real thing and noticed where my Mum added her own touch. It's a beautiful thing to read. So, let us go then, you and I.. 





T.S. Eliot (1888–1965).  Prufrock and Other Observations.  1920.

1. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

        S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

LET us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table;

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats         5

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:

Streets that follow like a tedious argument

Of insidious intent

To lead you to an overwhelming question….         10

Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”

Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,         15

The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes

Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,

Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,

Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,         20

And seeing that it was a soft October night,

Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,

Rubbing its back upon the window panes;         25

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

There will be time to murder and create,

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;         30

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go         35

Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time

To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”

Time to turn back and descend the stair,

With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—         40

(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)

My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,

My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—

(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)

Do I dare         45

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,         50

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

Beneath the music from a farther room.

  So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—         55

The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,

And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?         60

  And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—

Arms that are braceleted and white and bare

(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)

Is it perfume from a dress         65

That makes me so digress?

Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.

  And should I then presume?

  And how should I begin?

.      .      .      .      .      .      .      .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets         70

And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes

Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

.      .      .      .      .      .      .      .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!         75

Smoothed by long fingers,

Asleep … tired … or it malingers,

Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.

Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,

Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?         80

But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,

Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,

I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,         85

And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,

After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,

Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,

Would it have been worth while,         90

To have bitten off the matter with a smile,

To have squeezed the universe into a ball

To roll it toward some overwhelming question,

To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—         95

If one, settling a pillow by her head,

  Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;

  That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,

Would it have been worth while,         100

After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,

After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—

And this, and so much more?—

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:         105

Would it have been worth while

If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,

And turning toward the window, should say:

  “That is not it at all,

  That is not what I meant, at all.”

.      .      .      .      .      .      .      .

        110

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,         115

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—

Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …         120

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.         125

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves

Combing the white hair of the waves blown back

When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown         130

Till human voices wake us, and we drown.



***

here is further addition to the above loved poem:
please follow this link to the original source

In Bloom Again

It's been so long since I've felt anything towards another person. Felt anything period. I thought for sure that I was broken. That I had been hurt and dragged through the gutter so many times that I was just this shell that just had to fake her way through her relationships. That maybe I truly was a warped robot. Consistent, angry, and numb.

That wasn't the case. 

That was just a wrong relationship with the right guy. Someone else's right guy. It's selfish to keep forcing the relationship, so I let him go so we can both grow. 

**

**

Over the last month, it's like everything all came to a head and I had to start instilling changes. My job needed me to think, I needed me to think about my personal life. Little things just started to collect in a corner until it came to the point that I could no longer ignore it. So I cleared it out and after that happened something new came in. Changes came tumbling in like as if they had been waiting at the door for me for 5 years. 

I had been sitting dormant for years in some sleepy hibernation and now that springtime has arrived in my body, and I feel alive. 

I Used to Blog

I used to blog a lot when I had less to say. I found that I could make a lot out of nothing. I would tap into some inner narrative and just go with it; not thinking as my fingers danced across the keyboard. My spelling was bad, my grammar was worse, but my thoughts and stories still came through somehow.

And now I know more.

It's also possible that I might have lost what I once had because now I know more. There is a permanent haze that washes over my mind inflicting an internal auto-correct onto everything I think, read, and write. Like an photo filter that makes a better finished product by hides the raw, honest facts from the admirer.

Last year I tore down what I thought  I knew about the English Language; rules that I had made up in my head based on things I picked up a long the way. Punctuation, subject-verb agreements, modifiers, and antecedents became part of my day to day life. Things I looked for in everything I read and wrote. I would find errors in articles in magazines and would feel proud to catch something that an employed editor had missed. I developed new respect for people who used these hard and fast rules effortlessly in their communication, and judged those who lacked in similar ability. Even more so, I'll judge myself the harshest when I come across a tweet or message I had written with care 13 months ago.

I pride myself on being better than I once was.

I pride myself on knowing the difference between "then" and "than".

Effective October of this year, I am back in school. English is still on the agenda, and I am glad. I have moved past the basic foundation work and am now learning how to harness my personal thoughts into something more. Persuasive speeches, narrative essays... and on. I now have to develop my thoughts with creativity and direction, and employee my foundation tools to do it all. Make it all come together. But my mind is tired, and so are my thoughts. My motivation has been stretched paper thin due to other uncontrollable life events I am trying so hard to manage. I see that my personal life in all ways has taken a hit as I keep pushing myself to get through this whole thing. And most of the time I am far too tired to care. This will not be forever and whoever is standing there on the other end of this will be rewarded.

What I am doing is good for me, and I am proud of myself. The experience of learning as an adult is uncomparable to learning as a child or a young adult. I care more. I understand more. I can see the intention behind what I need to learn what I do. I am able to apply everything to events in my life. My vision of the world is far more open than it once was and I owe that to doing my studies at this time in my life. If you have ever wondered about going back to school as a mature student, my unsolicited advise is to go for it. There is no time like the present because if you don't start now, in 5 years you will have wished you had.

Guts

>
> I wandered into a little independent bookstore close to my place while I was out for a walk in the weekend. My goal was to take a break from the heat since its been unseasonably hot since May. I looked around trying to appear as natural as possible since I wasn't keen on anyone approaching me to help me find something. I was just there to steal the coolness and then hopefully be on my way without any awkwardness that can sometimes arise in situations like these.
>
> I looked at staff favourites which were mostly hipster books, and floated past the fiction books as I made my way to the back. At the back of this store they have their children's books, and in the collection of children's books they have a perfect shelf filled with dozens of different pop-up books. I know I could spend a comfortable amount of time with those!
>
> Almost there, I took a detour down an aisle that homed religious material, dry political books, and autobiographies. One book with the word "GUTS" across the cover caught my eye.
>
> Guts. I have guts! And my guts give me lots of trouble...
>
> "Stunning New York Times bestseller"
>
> Oooooo accolades!
>
> "The endless follies and tiny triumphs of a giant disaster"
>
> I can relate to this!
>
> "By Kristen Johnston"
>
> ... Who is that? Is that the woman who played that alien on that 90's show with John Lithgow?
>
> Honestly, I was confused and s little intrigued; Who is this woman who I've never given much thought to who wrote a book with such high reviews being sold in a trendy hipster bookstore?
>
> I contemplated buying the book for a moment and then put it down. I wanted to look at the pop-up books. I finally made it to the back of the store and opened up a beautiful book on The Little Prince. I was distracted by Guts, though-- so I went back. I took another moment to convince myself to buy it and committed to the sale.
>
> I went straight home and started reading it. I
> Didn't put it down for 4 hours. I read through the book like I was drinking water on a hot summer day. It was hilarious, emotional, and honest. I had such a strong feeling of empathy for Kristen and like a "knowing" of who she actually was. I finished the book in a few days and even read the "appreciations" and "photo credit" section of the book. I didn't want it to end.
>
> I can't really explain in a clear way why this book became what it did for me, but I loved it. I wanted to flip the pages back to the front and read it all over again. The beauty of being honest about your truths is always an inspiring story for me, as well as learning to be in the world as a healthy and happy human. This book touches so perfectly on that for me.
>
> I haven't written a blog post in such a long time, but this one seemed necessary to me. It's not a review; I just wanted to talk about it. I also wanted to post something that I hope will stay with me forever:
>

Confession

I don't have a high school education.

There. I said it. I basically finished grade 8 and then hormones and the volatility of being a teenager took over and school became even harder. I struggled with school my whole life and finally, 16 and sitting in the principal’s office with my TA, I was told to leave. My TA stood at the door as my family and I sat squished on their weird, vinyl couch and said matter-a-factly "Let her experience The Real World, it will be better for her." and so I resigned and became a high school drop-out. I got a job in a high end retail jewellery store and stayed for 10 years. I learned to sell, merchandize, how to be a watch maker and bench jeweler. I became a graduated jewellery and later, a gemologist.

but then I became tired of it and I wanted a normal job that gave me weekends and nights off. I could take the whole month of December off and I wouldn't miss out on 50% of my annual commission wages. So I became a receptionist and thought I could work my way up from there, and I did. I worked in HR, sales, marketing and accounting. I was stuck in the real world. Stuck in entry level jobs. I do OK for myself and I don't have this need to take on a high pressure, executive job. I do want more though, just a little. A nice mid-level position that pushes me past a certain tax bracket, working for a company that is better then the average.

And so it hit me at 3:45AM on a Tuesday. I was laying there, wide awake. My heart was pounding as I thought about where I was. How stuck I felt. How things weren't as how I pictured them and how one day I'm going to be a 45 year old woman working a simple admin role. Not very empowering thoughts but it was enough of a rock bottom to all of the sudden see the light.

I had to go to school. I had to go to real school, not some course or term about some random thing. I had to start and finish something.

I turned on the lights and checked my nightstand (which had a pile of books and papers I needed to read). My parents had sent me a continuing education program book and I frantically started flipping through it. Business Administration Degree. Can be done part time and on-line. Requirements to take the course? High school or equivalency.

I don't have high school or the equivalency (my GED)... but I can get it!

Over the last 16 years I have thought about it and I was never that motivated to get it. Everything else always seemed more important and plus, I thought I could do life without it.

I could-- I was but, I think I'll be happier. The last year of my life has been spent readjusting to everything. My priorities have shifted and having a good life is very important to me. Completing my high school is a stepping stone (one of the many ones I've been taking during the last year since I started Scary September in 2013) and it's a stepping stone I started this week.

I still feel ashamed that I lack such a basic education block. I am incredibly sensitive to being considered uneducated but I'm doing something about it now. And I'm excited about it! I was so lost as a child when it came to school. Now, I'm not lost. I'm motivated and focused and ready to take on the challenge. This will open doors that I can't even imagine right now. I could find new passions and directions. Only good can come from this and I'm proud that I'm ready.

I plan to finish the course by Feb 2015 and take the test. This might change, but that is the current goal. Let's DO THIS!

Low FODMAP Diet

This is a selfish post. Best info on the diet that I follow and some great staple recipies. I want to pin it to my Pinterest but it won't let me without an image.

Here is the PDF with all the right info:
http://www.myfoodmyhealth.com/FODMAP/FODMAPs_Diet_Third_Edition.pdf

Three Things

It's Tuesday and I totally forgot I've been doing this until today.
Lots has gone right since the last time I wrote but we won't get into
that because who wants to hear a list of 12 things that went right.

It's rainy today and even though my tummy was giving me trouble in the
morning, as soon as I walked out the front door into the morning
air... All of it washed away. The contrast between the gray sky and
vibrant, green leaves was stunning. The air was gentle on my lungs as
I took a long breath in through my nose and smelt the fresh, sappy
trees and damp earth. The space was quiet (there are two magpie
families living on my block and my goodness, they are noisy critters
when they are single and crowing on garbage-- but with a family?! They
are like a car alarm that goes off from 5:00am until 10:00pm) and all
felt calm. It was a great way to start my Tuesday.

Of course, then I got to work and I am in the sales and marketing
department. It's a group of extreme extroverts with voices as loud as
the magpies on my block. They were in early, clucking from their desks
in their offices. The noise can be too much. I think I'm starting to
grow out of living DT. There's noise and people everywhere I go and
sometimes I just want a break. Some privacy and some space for the
sensory overload. I find that early mornings are the closest I can get
these days. I have started to day dream about having a quiet little
house in an old neighborhood with a big backyard and the only noise I
have to hear is the man cry of Sunday morning lawn mowing. Kids
playing. The occasional car driving past at a snails pace.

Soon... This will happen.

It seems I've gotten distracted. There things that went right today

My workout went well. I upped my weights on my back squats and that
always feels good. I also don't grunt like the boys who lift the same.

I had some honest laughter. The kind that isn't just about being
friendly and social. The kind that surprises you, you weren't
expecting to laugh but you did and it sounds great and feels even
better because it erupts from your belly in a fantastic release.

My dinner turned out awesome. I always try to create as little waste
with food as possible but having had the big dinner in Sunday I had
some leftovers. I was able to work a lot of the veggies into my dinner
which I felt really good about. I used up some salmon I had purchased
from the market and frozen. Made my usual "Chinese style" veggies and
had a tomato salad with fresh basil from my 3 foot basil plant,
"Harmony". Some buttery rice because I like the carbs and fat. I used
up a pint of strawberries with two stalks of rhubarb and made a
wonderfully tart crisp. My fridge is finally getting some breathing
space and it is happy.

I also went for a nice, long walk in the rain with Brent after dinner.
I was dressed for it but that guy needs to get with it-- better shoes
and better outerwear.

Those were the things that went right today. And now it's time for sleep.

The Things that Went Right

This morning as I reflect in yesterday I think about the post I did
and what three things that went right yesterday. It was a rainy, quiet
day and nothing stands out right away so I have to dig a little deeper
to find them:

1) I went shopping at lunch for my brother's birthday gift and a
Father's Day gift. I found everything I needed and then some! I stayed
within my budget, I had wicked customer service and was out and back
to the office within a half hour. A perfect trip to the mall if you
ask me.

2) the dinner I made last night was a semi fail. I can cook just about
anything *except* steak. Half my battle is trying to do it on a George
Foreman grill which steams the steak more then sears it. I have tried
the oven but find that's such a major endeavor-- I need a BBQ. I did
however blow myself away with my smashed potatoes-- I picked these
beautiful little Poplar Bluff butter potatoes-- yum. And my tomato
salad had these fantastic fresh basil in it that was strong and spicy.
that alone made the dinner fantastic even thought the steak was still
a 6/10 (I did master the perfect medium rare though).

3) my body treated me right yesterday and that's always a win in my head!

What Went Well

I read this post today about doing things that bring further feelings of happiness to our lives. Nothing wrong with that!

I have often been a believer of expressing gratitude because the release of energy (of any kind) is very therapeutic. It's a good way to live a life of no regrets and the best way to wake-up in the morning truly feeling like you have a fresh page to start your day with.

Another thing that the article mentioned was to post 3 things that went well in the day. I like that better then being gracious about things. It's a nice way to re-frame your day even if you are already in a negative space because if you've had a nasty kind of day, it can be hard to feel grateful but it can be easy to see where things went right.

Things that went right yesterday:

I decided to switch my gym day to Friday so I could go for my lunch time walk on Thursday. This was motivated by wanting to get some sun on my face. It was perfect because yesterday the morning cloud had burned off enough to let out a gentle warmth from the sun. I enjoyed a peaceful walk along the river with the sun touching my skin. Today, it's a beautiful rainy, June day. I might have still gone for a walk at lunch with my umbrella and boots but instead, I went to the mall and bought some awesome gifts for a birthday and Father's Day. Then I'll leave work early tonight and head to the gym before I go home. Perfect!

Yesterday after work I went to the children's hospital. I had 2 big boxes of brand new, unwrapped toys to donate. I didn't call ahead, I just looked on their website and showed up. Got to park right in front, walk in and drop them off. It was easy and quick and it was nice to finally get the boxes out of my kitchen. I also felt good donating toys that I think the children would like.

and the last thing that went right yesterday was going out to eat. I got a seat at The Ship during opening day of The World Cup. That's pretty good, if you ask me!

I'm not sure if I will take the time to make this list everyday, I guess I could since I can easily email things from my phone that turn into post. Knowing me and this blog though, my commitment level is much lower for whatever reason. I was more committed to other blogs in the last 3 or 4 years.

That could change, we will see. In other news though, went are 3 things that went right in your day?

When I Was 20

When I was in my 20's I was in love. A lot. And now that I'm in my 30's I don't have that feeling anymore. I can't decide what I like better, the excited, magnetic obsession that made me want to be a better person. More of a person. Or the confident, numb feeling that I have now. I have not a care in the world, I trust, I am confident, I am fulfilled but I'm numb. My mind wanders back to the people of my past and most of it is resolved and put away. However, there is one love that I can still feel and perhaps it's because I never was able to give whatever I exactly wanted. I was devoted even when I shouldn't have been.

And now, I feel loved by another but I don't feel it back. I can't decide if that's right or wrong. Do I even know what love is? My past experience has always been that of dramatic, emotional endeavours and now that I'm with a kind, gentle man I feel nothing that I even can register.

Maybe it's the spring in the air that has my mind wandering though my passage of time. Maybe it's the nostalgic music. Regardless, I'm in a relationship that I can talk openly about this so it's not really a secret. We talk and work through everything but yet, I still miss that enchanted feeling I had when I was 20.

Making Goals

I am thinking about what my main goals will be for 2014, I haven't really decided because I did a lot last year, a lot that was unexpected (thanks to that Scary September thing I did for a few weeks-- really shook things up!) and a lot was over due.

 

I think I am starting fresh and strong; no residual baggage really. Here are some pointers though that I want to keep in mind over all, I try to keep them foreground for me but often, it is easy to get distracted.

Always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other.
– Abraham Lincoln
1. Begin. – Remember the feeling you get from taking the first step is far better than the feeling you get from sitting around thinking about it. So get up and get moving. Take the first step this year – just one small step forward. The greatest miracle of your success will not be that you finished, it will be that you had the courage to begin. 

2. Work hard on the essential. – Don’t be busy, be productive. Don’t track your time, track your results. Put first things first and get them done. And don’t expect your goal to be easy; it’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t hard you would already have it completed, and so would everyone else. The hard part is what makes it worthwhile. In life there are no shortcuts to any place worth going. 

3. Stay true to your path. – A successful life is one that is lived through understanding and pursuing one’s own path, not chasing after the dreams of others. You have to do what’s right for you; no one else walks in your shoes. Keep moving forward, beyond the negative rhetoric echoing from the peanut gallery. Do what you have to do, for you. Live a life you are proud of. And the moment you realize you’re not, find the strength to start over again on a new path.

4. Nurture your self-confidence. – You have everything you need within you to become the best possible version of YOU. Believe that you CAN. Believe that you’re capable of pushing harder and farther than you have before. Believe that you’re young enough, old enough, smart enough and strong enough to achieve your goals. Don’t let false beliefs stop you from moving beyond yourself. And certainly don’t get sidetracked by the people around you who are not on track. 

5. Be sincerely kind to those around you. – Kindness in words creates positivity. Kindness in thinking creates confidence. Kindness in giving creates love. Through kindness you have the ability to make a profound difference in every life you touch, including your own. When you guide someone who is lost and confused, when you hold someone who is sad and grieving, when you hug someone who has lost all their hope, you too will feel yourself healing and growing stronger. Remember, the vast majority of positive changes come about in someone’s life simply because one other person cares for them, believes in them, and motivates them. So be that other person when you can.

These things are important to me. Start, be productive, be honest with yourself, believe in yourself and be kind and honest with others. I believe that these are the makings of a satisfying life for me.

What is important to you? Do you reflect upon yourself and your life at the start of a New Year?

Car Crashes

My heart is a little broken. I was on my twitter this evening and saw
as people tried to make their commute home in all the snow, there was
an accident. Within the volume emergency vehicles were trying to get
from the accident to the hospital. The children's hospital. Two
children under the age of 4 were injured in a complete freak accident
and emergency crews were trying to get through highly congested, snow
clogged roads. A plea came out on twitter to drivers to be patient, to
allow emergency crews through and the city obeyed.

It wasn't enough though. It broke my heart to see the news that one of
the children involved didn't make it. They passed away and nothing
could be done. I couldn't help but think to myself what the parents
must be thinking. Just hours ago they might have been thinking about
dinner, the traffic, how they hated the snow and all the other
drivers. They might have been thinking about Christmas, worried about
getting everything done and annoyed the didn't win the 100 million
dollar lottery. Big thoughts at the time but now, they must feel so
petty.

I can't help but project how I might feel being in that situation. It
breaks my heart and I cry for the people who survived. For the
relatives whose lives won't ever be the same, that of the driver of
the car with the children that go hit, the driver of the truck that
loft control and did the hitting. All of it, I imagine might be hard
and I am do sorry that any of you have to go through it.

I wanted to talk about this for no reason other then sadness over the
news. Twitter doesn't give me space or privacy it once did but my blog
does. A place to come and air my head.

Lucky

I am lucky. Lucky to be able to eat foods based on digestive comfort
not on strictly for survival. I am lucky that I can complain about
being too full. About having an abundance in my kitchen and still not
thinking I have "anything to eat". I feel that I am lucky that I can
be choosy (and maybe some might call this "spoilt") and only eat the
tops of my broccoli and not eat the stems of my spinach. I am lucky
because I can go to the grocery store and buy anything I want. I am
lucky because I can go to the grocery store-- period. I am lucky
because I have options and choices.

As a country most of us can eat based on taste, not just for survival.
Food has become a form of entertainment and we are so blessed because
of that. I know this sounds strange but it hits me sometimes just how
lucky I feel to have so much in front of me. I have grown to be
resourceful with what I have and waste less then ever before because
its important to me not to take this for granted. To take any of this
for granted. I want to enjoy it (and I do) but now from a place of
survival first and taste second. Priorities have changed and that has
made other things sharper in my mind.

And it's a nice feeling to be so lucky.

Foodie in Recovery

I have been called a "Foodie"... and I can't stand the word. I have a past of eating out, being excited by food combinations created by talented chefs which are presented to me in mini master pieces of contemporary art. I can read a menu and know what everything is, regardless of the flowery writing. I am excited by things like "beef heart tar-tar with boar blood gilato" or "bone marrow and foire with Parmesan mousse". If I were to put it simply, the more disgusting the combination, the better. I have spent hours at work looking at pictures of food before the term "food porn" was even a thing. I talk about food while I eat, I got on vacations just because of restaurants I want to try. 

Food has exploded in my life and taken over. I am not proud... because really, it's just food. 

At the start of the year, I am sure if you follow my unscheduled writings, you will see that my digestive track took a turn on me. I had been through this a few years ago and came out relatively unscathed however, when it returned again I wasn't so lucky. I was a little wiser this time and I knew that I had to stop eating as I was. It was training on my quality of life and on my pocket book ($100 meals 2 or 3 times a week isn't a good start to my 30's). So I adopted a new eating plan. I adjusted to the diagnoses I have received a few times in my life that I have IBS and it was time that I start eating for it. First things first, get rid of wheat, garlic, onions, fructose and dairy. I had no idea what to eat! My diet was 95% wheat mixed with garlic/onions/fructose/diary and 5% fat mixed with garlic/onions/fructose/dairy. 

So I changed and I got creative with my food. I adapted actually and my symptoms actually started to become predictable. I could control them as apposed to crossing my fingers as I lick the last bit of butter off my fingers and hoping for the best. I stopped eating out, my world in the land of expensive restaurants and arrogant chefs started to lose its interest and I started to enjoy my own creativity. 

I sit back and watch though, as this culture of people with twitter and Instagram and all other types of things share their experience. I enjoy looking at good pictures of food and reading about the ingenious ways things are combined but as I watch the guests next to me when I go out, they are lost in their phones as those post this picture and that. Plus, lets face it... food is a hard thing to take pictures of. I don't usually post pictures of it because I know that I have no clue what I'm doing and it does NOT look good. Look at Martha Stewart who right now has a Buzzfeed dedicated to her Twitter feed of pictures-- most of them looking like a dog breakfast that has been vomited up (gross, I know). 

I love food, but in no way am I a foodie. I don't want to be one. I don't know all the different types of Himalayan salts (I just know why it's pink). I can appreciate human talent and there is something so beautiful and easy about creating food as an art form so that others can experience something amazing. It is easy to be passionate about something that is so easy to experience and share. But it doesn't have to be fancy, rare or disgusting to be good. My favorite grilled cheese sandwich isn't make on organic sprouted wheat and spelt sourdough bread made from a starter dating back the the days of Jesus himself. The cheese wasn't cultivated by monks in Spain from one small flock of sheep that only eat tuna heads during mating season. There is no truffle. There is no fig. It's plain, fluffy white bread with processed cheese and it is grilled to a beautiful buttery brown. It is heaven as I eat it. And I get this from some food court near my work. 

I'm not really sure what I'm saying here, really. I guess in a way, though I have never really like the term "foodie" I may actually have been one, and might still be one in my own way.  I love food but I don't want to be part of a group. I want to cook for people I love. I want to nourish their bodies and their souls. I want to share these experience with them and I don't care if there isn't a single picture taken. Right now I am planning a party that might actually include tuna fish sandwiches. I will probably use the canned stuff from Safeway and maybe, if people are lucky... I will have white and brown bread (plus Gluten Free for those who can't tolerate wheat). But I will probably make my own mayo and the sandwiches will be cut into shapes (Note: the party theme is based on last meals of famous people). 

If there is a Foodie in me, it's in recovery. Food has become less about taste and more of a function of energy. Things taste good now because I know I have to eat them. It's sad in a way to go through life like that but I also imagine that it's responsible. My quality of life is better because I feel good, I have a better understanding of waste-- I almost never throw food away because it never has a chance to get bad. I remake my leftovers and I call my cooking style macafouchette (or "weird"... if you text me and ask me what I'm making for dinner you might get something back like "weird potato pancake). All of these things are good things; though different. Change is nice and I am happy and just don't call me a "foodie". 

Winds of Change... Again.

The last we really talked I was doing scary stuff everyday, 5 days a week. That was in September and because of that, things got a little crazy. It became a catalyst for a bunch of stuff I had been meaning to do and started doing. So I got crazy busy and had to focus on the reactions to my actions.

 

I've also been dealing with my stomach again but I think I have told you this previously. At the start of the year, I went from being able to eat anything and all things that I wanted to unpredictable digestive issues which resulted in some close calls. Having dealt with this a few times in my life I realised that maybe the diagnoses that I have IBS is something to consider.

 

So in May I started the elimination phase of the FODMAP diet. Well, this has changed my life. I still have digestive issues but the thing is, I only lost 10 lbs in 6 months rather then the 25 lbs I lost in 6 weeks two years ago. What I have discovered is there are certain foods I can eat and others I can not. I have stopped eating out as much as I did and I have started to cook big, tasty meals daily. Yes, I miss the social aspect of going out like I did but I feel great-- way better digestive wise than I did at the start of the year. Plus, I love experimenting and getting creative with my food. I have never cooked meat in my life until this year, and I love it.

 

So I feel good, I am saving loads of money and getting creative. I am gaining new skills and just doing well.

 

It's been really important to me that I take care of myself this year. It's been difficult coming to that place in my head that this is where I was going with everything I was doing but now that I had, I am good. A big shift has occurred. The people who do me no good in my life have been phasing out. Friends who are stuck in the drinking phase of their life or don't have the same drive and goals are going in a different direction than me. I want different things now and that's what I am moving towards. It's just natural for some people to not be part of that journey.

So that's just a quick little thing about what's going on.. this blog has become a weird place over the last few years. It just takes its own form as my life goes from this place to that. Like an online diary.

I keep some of the more personal things out of here now because everyone doesn't need to know everything at this time. Anyways,I have to move on with my day and get some more work done. Hopefully there will be shift with this soon too.

love,

B.

The Fear of Not Being

 "Sometimes I dream of a tree, and the tree is my life. One branch is the man I shall marry and the leaves my children. Another branch is my future as a writer and each leaf is a poem. Another branch is a glittering academic career. But as I sit there, trying to choose, the leaves begin to turn brown, and blow away until the tree is absolutely bare." 

Sylvia Plath