Konmari My Brain!

Behold! I have not abandoned this blog forever. Summer hit, and little did I know, it was going to be busier than the regular school year. Having the kids around darn near 24/7 doesn’t make for much writing time. Didn’t make for much progress for my health, either. At least not visible progress. Add to that a difficult September for The Boy and kicking off a Master’s program in Education… my plate is full of things other than food right now!

I have been trying to grow comfortable in my skin this summer. The fact is, in my yo-yo-ing over the years, my current weight is the weight to which I typically return. My body’s “resting weight,” if you will. I know that my habits are what get me here, but I want to come up with an approach that is truly going to work for me.

For starters, I KONMARIED my home. If you’ve read “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up,” by Mari Kondo, you already know what I’m talking about. I literally went through every object that we own and decided whether or not to keep or toss each item.

Kondo suggests that you pitch any object that does not bring joy to you. I didn’t go that extreme. I still saved a lot of photographs, a few tchotchkes, and the can opener that brings me no joy whatsoever, but overall, the space around me at home feels so CLEAR. It feels so clear, in fact, that a friend came over the other day who didn’t know about THE GREAT PURGE OF 2015, and upon entering our apartment asked, “Wait. Is your apartment… BIGGER? Can that happen?"

KONMARI, BABY! Konmari MAGIC!!!!!

What I noticed about myself in the purge was that I became a woman obsessed. It took me about two weeks to go through everything. Every closet. Every drawer. The storage unit that required Indiana Jones-like skill to navigate. I couldn’t stop until I was done.

For the first time in my life, I craved total order.

You have to understand: I am a cluttered person. I’m not just talking my apartment, but my entire being. There’s clutter everywhere. My purse, my notes, my brain; they all contain copious amounts of debris. There are times when everything feels like chaos and there are times that I’ve had control within the chaos, but the chaos has been a constant.

I had a talk with a good friend a month or so ago. She and I have been commiserating about our weight over the 17 years we’ve been friends. Recently, we were considering starting another push toward weight loss and “holding one another accountable along the way.”

Truth is, neither of us are into the idea.

Sure, we would like to be healthy, but following “A PLAN” or counting calories… I want to poke myself in the head with an ice-pick just thinking about it.

Kondo, in her book, talks about walking into a client’s home that, on the surface, looked fairly organized, however, it still gave her a feeling that something wasn’t right. While it appeared tidy on the outside, once her client began to open closets and drawers, a hidden mess was revealed. Even though the mess was hidden, she could sense the mess without seeing it.

I feel like that house. On the outside, I look fine. I carry myself well, I think. But there’s something that’s not right. There’s a lingering uneasiness.

The conclusion to which my friend and I arrived is that our weight issues actually have nothing to do with our eating. We are both well-read, intelligent women and know what is healthy and not healthy. Cognitively, we know how to lose weight and maintain probably better than a lot of the “skinny” folk walking down the street. “There’s no lack of information,” my friend shared, “it’s an emotional problem.”

In the end, we decided to essentially “Konmari” ourselves. I don’t know exactly what that looks like, but I know that I need to rewire (in some cases, rewire AGAIN) false beliefs about myself. If I am in a place of emotional stability, then I don’t need to drown any sorrows or numb out with food. Ideally, anyhow.

In the end, I have learned that I cannot attack my thought processes like I did my apartment. The same verve and vigor would be careless. Slowly, I’m identifying bad habits and trying to find the root and reframe. One of the major false beliefs is that “I can’t handle THIS.” Whether “THIS” is: The Boy having a tantrum, feeling overwhelmed by my school work, or not fitting into whatever size I thought I was going to fit into in the dressing room. I CAN handle it and don’t need to numb out.

As with all things, I am moving forward quite imperfectly. However, it’s still moving forward and that is something I will gratefully accept.

Imperfectly yours,

Me

Un-Spiraling: Pulling Out of a Mental/Emotional Nosedive

It is amazing how quickly one can move into a spiral. One minute: you’re walking down the street in the dress you now own in four (Count ‘em. FOUR.) colors, a scale-defying diva of wonder and might, and the next: BAM! A complete mess. I’m still processing one such incident that set me hurdling toward the realms of self-loathing earlier this week. 

The thing is this: it was a simple question. Not even a question, so much as an expression of concern. In a sea of conversations, it is funny how one little word spoken can jump out and feel so much louder than the others. What’s worse, nothing was meant by it. It’s all what my brain took and did with it. 

In the past few years, I’ve spent a lot of time in therapy and getting support from a dear group of women that disbanded a few months ago. One of my big take-aways was to REACH OUT when I feel the spiral beginning. REACH OUT right away to trusted friends who can speak truth into the web of false-truths which we weave for ourselves. 

I am very fortunate to have several special friends to whom I can turn in these moments and just be nakedly me.

As I walked home and allowed the words to swirl around in my brain, I could feel the whirlpool pulling me deeper with each step. I pulled my cell out of my bag and sent an SOS text that went something like this after describing the situation:

ME: “Trying not to spiral. Kind of want to just disappear. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay… trying to be okay. Trying to be okay…”

Awesome Friend stepped in with compassion and common sense. She reminded me of who I am, who she knows me to be, and called me out of the ugly place. In the end, we chatted about the power of words, their trickiness, and the power we give them. 

What we eventually came to is that our minds will automatically just accept the negative as true over the positive. Whatever is said that confirms the false truths we hold about ourselves, whatever it is that keeps us most small, those are the lies to which we will cling. 

Or perhaps, we fashion those false beliefs into a flag, which we wave proudly above our heads at all times…

Growing is hard. If we buy into the bullshit that we can’t change or that we’re irreparably fucked up, we can continue to sit on the couch with our G&T, a spoon in one hand for the Breyer’s Gelato and the other hand in the bag of wavy chips (which definitely did NOT happen this past week). The hard part is to not bury oneself in that bullshit. If we buy into the TRUE truths and not the false beliefs, we can’t stay in that place. Shining the light of truth into those dark places helps one recognize that you are more than the number on the scale and that the gelato and chips are only going to be regrets when you wake up the next morning.

“You are many, many things… awesome friend, confidant, counselor, general ass-kicker, wise woman, sister, an example of a good marriage, good parenting, and a good friend…”

Thanks for that, Awesome Friend. These are the things by which we should be defined. Not our dress size or the scale. 

Today, I am choosing to believe Awesome Friend over my crazy brain because it’s NOT the easy choice. It’s the choice that makes me lift emotional weights and build some muscles. It’s the choice that’s going to get me closer to real change and freedom. 

Wishing you transparency with your own awesome friends on the journey,

The Imperfect Cavegirl

The Epiphany of Comfortable Pants

My life after the scale break-up has been amazing. I should have done this a long time ago. It has removed the judgement from my food choices. It has been the devil on my shoulder for a long time and I didn’t even realize it. Just knowing that I’m not going to step on the scale is like cutting out that unhealthy friend from your life: the one who cancels on you, criticizes you, makes you feel like you don’t measure up to their standards of “cool.” The moment you decide to take power away from this person, the world opens up in amazing ways. This is how leaving the scale behind has been for me.

I have followed a blog for several years, Pancakes Gone Awry. Patty O., the author, and I have lived oddly parallel lives and I’ve been following her since The Boy was diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder as a toddler. Shortly after Patty’s son’s diagnosis was changed from SPD to Autism, so was The Boy’s. Reading how she handled the transitions in her life helped me through my own. Another common thread in our lives has been our struggle with our weight and loving ourselves in spite of it. In a post from April 2014, Patty writes about running into an old friend who had gained a lot of weight since the last time she had seen her:

 “As I considered her weight gain, I felt better because I realized I wasn't the only woman out there who struggles with her relationship with food.  My friend is a smart, kind, vibrant woman, who cares about people and is strong.  If she happens to struggle with emotional eating, I thought, then maybe it's not such a thing to be ashamed of.  I mean, really, who DOESN'T have some unhealthy habits?  If she, someone I genuinely admire, struggles with weight issues, then, I'm sure in good company.

“Even more important, though, I noticed how I thought about her.  I didn't feel judgment or criticism bubbling to my lips.  Instead, I just felt compassion and understanding.  And the reason this was an epiphany was because I realized that I reacted to her weight gain exactly opposite to how I react to my own frequent slip-ups.”

Last year, I received showers of praise from friends and family on how I looked post-Whole 30. It was welcome, but I accepted it hesitantly: what if I gain it back? I felt I would be failing them and myself. It was a lot of pressure. Then there’s that feeling, when you see someone you haven’t in awhile and you have gained weight back that you are being pitied, “Poor Cavegirl. She looked so good. What happened?” I have long been tied to what others think of me and the thought of being pitied or disappointing is the worst. However, yes. We do all have unhealthy habits and we all have experiences that are rough when we turn to those habits for comfort.  I imagined myself as this friend of Patty’s and accepted the love she sent her way. To be the recipient of compassion is far greater than the power of pity, even when the pity is just in your head.

I have been working toward compassion for myself and my weight for years. Because of the gain this year, literally none of my clothing from last summer fits, and if it does, that does NOT mean I should be wearing it.  

Getting dressed for work was the worst. Cramming myself into my jeans was a nightmare. I was trying to find ways to wear my yoga pants and capris underneath long shirts or dresses. I figured that, if I dressed them up, no one would know. Of course, The Girl called me on it right away, “Mommy, are those your running pants?” It didn’t stop me. I was operating from a shame-based mindset. Thoughts coursed through my head, “You don’t deserve to look nice. You gained all that weight! Now, you should suffer with the clothes you have.” In some twisted way, I thought this mindset would help me to get “back on track,” but it didn’t.

Early last week, Super Hubby handed me his phone and asked if I wanted to order anything from a favorite store of ours, which was having a 50% off sale. Continuing in my shame mindset, I ordered a dress and a couple pair of cheap “fat” pants. I expected all of them to look horrible and that I would need to return them. A few days later, the pants came. Linen pants with an elastic waistband.

THE pants.

The day they arrived, I’d worn my “skinny” jeans to work. By the end of the day, I was dying. The temperature had shot up during the day and my 1.5 mile walk home was unbearably hot, making the already uncomfortable pants even worse. When I slipped on the magical linen pants, the clouds parted and I heard the chorus of angels above me singing in GLORY!

They looked nice. They were comfortable. Could life be this way? Oh, the epiphany of comfortable pants!

My mindset changed quickly. I decided to embrace myself in the “now.” I am heavier than last year, but I am not ruined for it. I can still be beautiful and care for myself. I am still beautiful, in fact.

I went shopping.

I bought those pants in two more colors. I found a jersey dress that was both comfortable and flattering and bought it in 3 colors. Possibly four. I have my clothes for the summer and I love them. All were on sale and I plan to wear the hell out of them. If people notice that I’m wearing the same things in different colors, I don’t care. I loved having a uniform for the last 2.5 years of my high school life – I do not particularly enjoy “putting together outfits.”  This woman, who gave herself a uniform, is kind of my hero.

Over the weekend, I went on a short vacation with Super Family. When I lost the weight last year, part of my motivation was to be a healthy example for my daughter. I wanted her to be proud of her healthy, thin mom and see it as a choice she can make for herself. This is not a bad thing, however, a healthier mindset to model for her is that of acceptance. I want her to see me love myself and be proud of how I look, no matter how much I weigh. I mustered all of my courage and got into my swim suit and climbed into that hotel pool. Skinner moms than I sat to the side in their cover-ups and missed the joy of splashing around with their kids.

I didn’t eat every meal like a Cavegirl this week, but it is funny how I made better choices without the rule of the scale in my life. There was no voice to say, “Ha! You thought you did well, but there it is! Two bonus pounds, fat ass!” to send me into a spiral of anger and eating. Right now, my focus is on changing my mind about myself. I feel confident that this is the healthier choice over “eating right,” and if I can embrace this, the rest will follow. 

Wishing you self-compassion on your own journey,
The Imperfect Cavegirl

The Demon Scale: A Break-up Letter

Dear Scale,

We've been together a long time, you and I. You have been a constant on my life's journey, almost as far back as I can remember. You've taken a few different forms - analog, digital, fiery red numbers, black against grey. All seemingly benign, but you and I know that is not true.

Your numbers were there with me, taunting me. No matter how low they were, they were never enough. I would feel good about something you showed me and then would Google celebrities I thought looked perfect and see that they were still 20-30 pounds lighter. Any success I felt would fly out the window and I would once again become aware that I didn't measure up to this standard of beauty my society had set and I had willingly adopted for myself.

You have ruined days, weeks, YEARS of my life with your little, wretched numbers. You have taken me to dark places away from my family and friends. Places I shut them out of so I could be left to wallow there with you. You and me, Scale. In the darkness. Me, clinging to you for the answers to my biggest questions: "Am I beautiful? Am I enough?"

Well, FUCK YOU, scale. I'm done with your bullshit. You have not loved me as I've needed to be loved. I have let you keep me in misery.

I'm choosing myself over you for the first time I can remember. I know we have been enmeshed and I will be tempted to seek you out in my low moments. I will be tempted to welcome you back in, to trust that we can have a healthy relationship. I will be tempted to reopen My Fitness Pal and view our history together. I can’t let that happen. Given our past, the abusive relationship we’ve shared, the mental and emotional agony I have allowed you to keep me in, it is just not possible.

From this point on, I will look to myself, my family and trusted friends for my value. I know that I am beautiful. I am intelligent, talented, AND beautiful. My body is strong. I'm going to choose not to doubt that any longer, no matter what you say. I know that I am taking steps to be a healthier human being and I'm not going to let you sabotage that journey and pull me back into your traps any more. I'm going to have bad days, but not because I didn't like what you told me.

I have stood upon you for the last time, Demon Scale. Don’t call me and I WON'T be calling you.

No longer yours, truly or otherwise,

The Imperfect Cavegirl

Day 1: Monday, May 11, 2015

Yesterday was Mother's Day. On Friday, I knew that I was ready to start this journey, but I knew that the days before Mother's day were not the days to do it, and I was right. I love breakfast food, especially breakfast sandwiches and on holidays, MIMOSAAAAAAAAAAAS! Super Hubby did not disappoint. He augmented his usual "Sunday Morning Bacon-Makin'" by adding sausage patties, english muffins, hashbrowns, coffee from this amazing little place on the Southside of Chicago, Bridgeport Coffee, and yes: MIMOSAS.

In the afternoon, we headed north to Playland, where we enjoyed cheap beer and Nathan's Famous. Oh, and Carvel ice-cream. And maybe some funnel cake. 

However, knowing that Monday was coming and that I was going to start THIS THING, I spent a lot of Friday in preparation. I made about 7 freezer meals to throw in the crock pot on busy days to keep myself from the trap of ordering in. I hard-boiled (steamed, really) eggs for a quick go-to. A friend pointed me toward Science Friday's method of steaming the eggs and let me tell you: 12 minutes of steaming and the shells practically dance off the eggs when you peel them. I brewed a huge pot of "Damn Good Chili," a recipe with which I fell in love last year during my Whole 30. Folks, I used to make pretty good chili, but this recipe trumped mine by a landslide and it's loaded with veggies and bean-free. Many of my friends have tossed their old chili recipes in exchange for this one after sampling the goods at my place. It freezes well too, so I knew this would be a good place to start.

This brings me to today. Even with an arsenal of back up food in the freezer, I still don't trust myself to not get lazy, so I am using my zealousness and set up the crock with my tried and true pulled pork. I don't know from whence this recipe came, but I still have the scrap paper I jotted it down on when I came across the recipe online one day. It's stained and worn, as any much-loved recipe should be:

 I thought about tweaking it to omit the brown sugar, but... nah. I'll skip the roll and just use less brown sugar, throw together a side of broccoli slaw and BAM!

Is the recipe perfectly paleo? Nope. Am I going to make my own mayo from scratch for the slaw? HELL TO THE NO. But I still see this as a small step in the right direction and that's what the journey is about. Small steps going the right way.

Until next time, I wish you joy in the journey!



Ridiculously Delicious Crock Pot Pulled Pork
1 tsp. coconut oil
1 3-4 lb. pork loin roast
1 C. Stubb's BBQ Sauce
1/2 C. Bragg's Apple Cider Vinegar
1/2 C. water
1/2 tsp. Better Than Bouillon Organic Chicken Stock Paste
1/8-1/4 C. brown sugar
1 Tbsp. yellow mustard
1 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce
1 Tbsp. chili powder
1 large onion, diced
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1.5 tsp. dried thyme

1. Pour coconut oil in the bottom of the slow cooker. Place roast into cooker. Mix all other ingredients together in a bowl and pour over the roast.
2. Cook on high for 5-6 hours.
3. Remove meat, shred, and return to cooker and juices.
4. ENJOY!

Stumbling All The Way Toward Better Health

For starters, I never thought I'd start a blog. I was never sure whether or not I had anything unique that was worth saying. I'm still not certain I do, however, it occurred to me that I am beginning a journey and it's one from which I will be very tempted to stray. I know, because I have already done it. I was trying to think of ways to help me stay the course and from there, I arrived at a writing a blog. How else does one keep on track, but by being totally public?!

A little over a year ago, a friend of mine had done a Whole 30 and was looking and feeling fantastic. Inspired by her success, I did my own and the results were incredible. I looked great. I was never a skinny-minnie (I'm sure aspects of my chubby kidom will leak in future posts), but I got to a point where I weighed 4 lbs. less than I ever had at my thinnest in high school. What's more, I have fought a battle with depression and anxiety as long as I can remember and my brain felt clear. I was still on my meds, but I was even more happy and at peace. Walking on clouds... that's the thing I can't stop thinking about: how much better I felt mentally.

Then summer came with its beer, ice-cream, picnics, wine, and all around engorgement. I put some weight back on and fell off the paleo wagon, but when fall rolled around, I felt I could get back into a routine and wrangle it in.

And oh, what a fall it ended up being. We returned home from two weeks of vacation and an all-night drive from Chicago to discover every New Yorker's worst nightmare: BEDBUGS. The purging of STUFF. The bagging. The heat-treating. It was so overwhelming. Those little bastards are insidious, let me tell you. While I treated them with heat, I treated myself with comfort food and beer.

While we conquered the bedbugs (she says, knocking on wood), I'd slipped further away from my paleo ways, I slipped less easily into my clothing, and slipped further into self-loathing.

And what is (not really) the best treatment for self loathing?!

UNADULTERATED GLUTTONY!

That brings me to today: May 11. I don't want to do another Whole 30 and I am really done with "DIETING" or programs. I know that it's time to change my lifestyle and the only way I can really do it and stick to it is by allowing myself to be imperfect. I'm not interested in cutting out all carbs, grains, legumes, sugars, booze, dairy, etc. for the rest of my days. I like those things.

Shoot. I flipping LOVE those things. I would marry them, if I could.

I know that if I give them the axe, I'll only return to them later with a vengeance. This is why I have decided to be "The Imperfect Cavegirl." Stumbling toward a paleo lifestyle. Ready to make mistakes and poor choices, all while moving in the right general direction.

Welcome to my journey.