Posts Tagged ‘addiction’

Juicing seems to be going okay. I invented my own juice this morning and I quite like it. I even saved the recipe for later. It’s 2 apples, 2 stalks of celery, 2 carrots, 1 lemon, 1 thumb of ginger. Tangy and tasty. Not sweet, but not bitter. Yummy.

I have slacked on walking because the weather has been so cold and my schedule has been such that I’ve not made time for the walking track. I am sure, once the weather improves, that I will get back to walking with the dogs every morning. Even 20 minutes with them made a difference. Come on Spring!

I am enjoying cooking at home, and we are going through a lot of groceries, but this is a good thing. The positive things is the groceries are being consumed, not rotting and having to be thrown out. I have made a commitment to 30 days of juicing, but I already know I will be juicing every day for a very, very long time.

The downside of juicing is the mess with the juicer, but it makes life much easier to have the juicer. So I guess its worth it.

As we approach Lent I am determined to make this my healthiest Lent. Every year I pick something up that is good for me, and set down something that is not. It’s not about deprivation, it’s about living life to the fullest. Taking on things that scare me. Trying my best to take one day at a time.

This year I am going to eliminate all processed foods from my diet for the 40 days plus Sunday’s of Lent. I am going to juice every day. And I am going to move my body in some way for at least 20 minutes a day.

As far as the Spiritual side of Lent goes, I will spent at least half an hour in meditation or prayer, as I want a closer relationship with God. Every year I try to follow a devotional for Lent, but have yet to complete one within the 40 days. This year I am not putting that pressure on. I will read every day, but it doesn’t need to be from a specified Lenten devotional.

Tuning up my body as well as my mind, heart and soul. It’s going to be a challenge, but I am certain I can get there.

One step, one sip, one bite, on prayer, one moment at a time.

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I have not written in a while because I haven’t really had much to say. Well, that’s not exactly true. I almost always have a lot to say, I couldn’t find a way to properly express myself. And that’s not exactly true either. I’ve been in a slump as of late. Eating was way out of control. What I was eating was way out of control. My yoga mat actually collected dust. Yes, it was that bad.

This weekend I decided to regain control of myself. I can’t expect anyone to do it for me. I have to do it myself. The good news is, I have not had a drink of alcohol in nearly six months. The awesome news is I almost never miss it. The bad news is, I’ve been eating processed garbage and wanting more. The horrible news is, I’ve indulged in that unhealthy want.

A few weeks ago I watched a documentary film called “Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead”. It was an “oh shit” moment watching it. Joe Cross, a wealthy Australian, decided to try a 30 day juice fast. He flew to the US and drank nothing but water and his juices. And lost a phenomenal amount of weight, became healthier and inspired a lot of people. I saw this film and wanted to try juicing. And getting healthier. Instead, I drove to the grocery store and instead of buying fruit and vegetables I bought cookies, ice cream and chocolate. And then I ate them.

Yesterday I want to a discount store and bought a juicer. I’ve been pricing them out online and at various department stores and decided that I didn’t want to spend $100. So I checked the discount store and got exactly what I wanted for $40. I then went to the grocery store next door and bought parsley, spinach, lemons, cucumber, apples, and carrots. I came home, washed the juicer and tried one of the recipes I found online. I won’t lie. It was pretty bad. I drank almost all of it, but was having difficulty getting over the green colour. And the smell. Ick.

I found a 30 day juice challenge that I signed up for. Each day I get a new recipe to try. The idea is to gradually build up to more exotic juices and to gradually revamp your diet and lifestyle to be healthy. I like it! I don’t know that I could make a 30 day commitment to juice fast and look after this family. A lot of the meetings I have are during a meal.

This way I can make the commitment to have the juice, either for breakfast or for lunch, or perhaps even both and see what happens. I’m going to give it a try. I’m going to commit to juicing every, single day for the 30 days. Then I may try a 5 days juice fast as a Lenten discipline. We’ll see how it goes.

I am in the process of detoxifying. Feeling lousy, headache, no energy, poor skin. Within the next week or two I will feel much better. And within that time I will be making healthier meals at home. Keeping my hands and body busy, when not working, with exercise or stretching. I would love to say I will walk every day and do 30 minutes of yoga every day. But the reality is, I’m not yet there, the key word being “yet”.

I will get there.

This summer I will buy a two piece bathing suit and wear it in public. Knowing I won’t ever have a bikini body, I will still wear it because I will have a healthy body and an awesome attitude. I know I will never be a single digit size and be healthy. But I do know that I will be a healthy double-digit size with a bit of attitude to spare.

I am who God created, and I am treating my body as a thing of beauty and something which must be respected.

Yes, I fell off the wagon and I fell hard. But now I have a shiny stainless steel juicer sitting at the ready on my kitchen counter. That makes me feel good. I made the prescribed juice with carrots, apples and celery (all of which I really enjoy) and it was pretty good. My Beloved even drank some as well.

The 30 day juice challenge is for me. And only for me. Because it is time. And I am ready.

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It’s the time of year when so many people say “I can’t wait for this year to be over, next year is going to be so much better”. And what does that really mean?

Yes, 2013 has been a tough year for the community in which I live. There have been so many deaths and looking out at the congregation on Christmas Eve at 7:00 pm I had a catch in my throat through nearly the whole service. Looking out and seeing the families who are at their first Christmas Eve service since their loved one died. And feeling lost. I understand that feel very well.

On the radio and all over the internet, there are top 10 lists and “Best Of” lists and montages of 2013. Many people find it necessary to make Resolutions, as though the new year isn’t really a new year unless there is a list of often unattainable resolutions. THIS is the year I will run the Boston Marathon (and yet, getting up to the fridge during commercials makes one winded). THIS is the year I will lose 100 lbs (and yet not change eating habits or exercise in any way). THIS is the year I will meet Mr or Ms Right (and never leave the house) etc.

For me, resolutions are a recipe for disaster and I refuse to make them. What I do, instead, is look at my lifestyle from time to time, usually every 3 – 4 months and see where I am physically, spiritually, mentally, etc and decide if there are changes I should make or new habits I should incorporate. And then I do them.

Putting pressure on one night, New Years Eve, is crazy. It’s too much pressure. And it sets us up to failure. How many gyms has fantastic “resolution” specials, and by the first of February they are back to near empty? How many people have gym memberships that are virtually untouched? How many of us have exercise equipment that collects dust or holds unworn clothing?

This year I refuse to bend to pressure to make and share resolutions. I will live my life as healthy as I can. I will continue to reduce stress and to put myself higher on the priority list. I will be more diligent at taking care of myself and my family. I will continue to stamp out negative talk and self-shaming chatter, in my head and in the mouth of my daughter. There will continue to be no room for H8 in my house, and plenty of room for LOVE.

I still struggle as a food addict. I still have days when I hurt. And yet, these addictions and abuse do not define who I am. Or what I do. They are a part of my life, and likely always will be. And the living will be in the tension of finding the correct balance. Some days will be easier than others, just like always.

Live your life, love who you are. Make adjustments because you want to, not because of society’s pressure to do so. Eliminate H8 and love with all you are and with everything you have.

THAT is how we will change the world. Not with resolutions, but with love.

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Every now and then I make a massive mistake and start reading. Not that reading is a mistake, but have you ever been in that place where you read one article, that leads you to another, and another and soon you’ve lost hours in your day?

I’ve been doing a lot of reading about clean eating. Eating food in its purest form. Fresh where possible, organic where affordable and available. Avoiding additives and GMO’s. Which has left me overwhelmed with what I should or should not eat. Good Lord…sugar is good, or it will slowly kill you. Dairy is necessary, or will poison you. You should eat meat…or vegan is the only way you will live past 50. *sigh*

For someone who already has massive issues with food, I am at the point where I hesitate before I eat anything…I try to cook fresh wherever possible. I eat local wherever I can. When local isn’t available I look to frozen vegetables, product of Ontario or Canada wherever possible. I hesitate with meat, for many reasons…I was a committed pescatarian (vegetarian who eats fish) for nearly two decades.

I reintroduced meat because I cannot digest legumes. One of the main sources of protein was unavailable to me. Then there’s the peanut butter debate. Yes, you should eat it, but only if you make it yourself or watch it being made. *sigh* Same with yogurt.

In a perfect world I would have a couple of milking cows, maybe a couple of milking goats, some chickens for eggs and would have a massive vegetable garden. I used to dream of a stone cottage near a stream where I would chop my own wood and haul my own water. I’m now 46 years old and have decided that hydro and running water with indoor plumbing are necessary. High speed internet is also getting high on the list of necessities… 🙂

To be completely honest, I’m scared. I don’t want to live forever. I am looking forward to the next life when I don’t have to worry about all this crap. I want to be the healthiest I can be. Which means to eat as well as I can, using common sense.

Remember that? Common sense?

Right now I’ve got two rooms in my house that are complete disaster areas. One is the home office that houses EVERYTHING we don’t have room for. If something doesn’t have a home it get chucked in there…which bothers me. But right now I don’t have time or energy to deal with it.

The other room is my “sanctuary” room. It was meant to have my clothes, exercise equipment, yoga mat, etc. It needs a major redesign. Badly. So I am going to get rid of my exercise equipment because I don’t use it. I am going to vacuum the rug in there and set out my yoga mat. I am going to make that room into a warm and inviting place. I will find room for all the “stuff” that is in there. And it will be awesome.

But right now I need to regain control of my brain. To stop double and triple thinking about every decision. I am a human being and can only do what I can do. All shall be well…I simply need to relax and let it be. Right?

Yeesh. I think I need to get doing something and stop thinking so much.

Organizing this afternoon will make me feel better. I’m absolutely sure of it. Regaining order from chaos always has a fantastic effect on me.

Yes, this afternoon will be awesome.

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One of the dangers of being a food addict is the holiday season. Everywhere you go there’s something to try. “Oh, just have one” they say and I break into a sweat. I want to eat the whole plate, but it’s better if I don’t eat any, so I politely refuse. Sometimes that leads to guilt so I’ll agree to have one, then two, then, well, you know how it ends.

Or I will refuse politely, then come home and eat two chocolate bars. Ugh.

This is a tricky time of year, psychologically and emotionally, before we get into any of the “fun” stuff of the holidays. Everywhere you go there’s overlit, too loud, hypercaffeinated places that raise your heart rate to buy me, eat me, love me, take me home. And if you refuse, then you’re a bad person.

So I guess I’m a bad person.

With being so tired as of late, I have no impulse control. I asked my beloved to do the grocery shopping and I know I shouldn’t…because he brings home crap. Which I eat. Yes, it’s my fault that I put that thing in my mouth that I shouldn’t but…well…the truth is, I want it.

I have stopped looking at magazines for Christmas cookie ideas because I know, if I bake them, I’ll eat them…all of them.

I should get outside and walk the dogs. But I’m scared of slipping as it’s quite slick underfoot. I should go to the walking track and spend an hour there. But I don’t. I should pull out my yoga mat, breathe and stretch. But I don’t.

Instead, when I’m having difficulty coping, I go to bed. Most of the time I sleep, so obviously I am overtired. But when am I going to feel well enough to care for myself? Nobody is going to do it for me. I have to do it myself. And I will. Eventually.


What I need is a week in Bermuda. Am I going to get it? Not likely, at least not for awhile. I am, however, committed to taking 5 or 6 days in January and going on retreat. To a place where the food is good and healthy. Where there are no demands. Where I can bring my yoga mat and stretch. And journal. And cry.

I know I could do that here. But there’s always something else that’s more pressing. There’s always one more email to send, one more webpage to read, one more article that needs posting. I need to make myself a priority. I am cooking healthier meals and enjoying it. Today I’m going to attempt beef stew in the slow cooker.

Right now I feel muddled up. I know I should take better care of my body. Who takes care of me if I don’t? Nobody. So if nobody takes care of me, why should I bother? Counterintuitive I know, but real nonetheless.

We had a discussion about Christmas a couple of months back. We agreed that we will not go into debt for Christmas. We cut back the list dramatically. And nearly all the shopping is done. That makes me feel really good.

One day next week I am going to sort through the bags in the spare room and start wrapping. That will feel like accomplishment. I may even bring some things out and start decorating for Christmas/Winter. I’m not sure about a Christmas tree with the pup, but we’ll see.

What I need to do is shake off the cobwebs of guilt and shame. I need to stop beating myself up about what I have done and look forward, instead, to what I will do. To be intentional in everything I do, whether it be eating, speaking, washing, dressing, praying, stretching.

And I need a good cry.

And maybe a nap.

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I received an email from my best friend that contained the words “slow down before you hit a wall at 200 mph”. She was right, as always and I knew what she was saying, even before she said it.

My eating style is completely derailed.

My anxiety issues are reaching peak.

I am angry and miserable…to the point I can barely stand myself.

I feel like I am sliding backwards and there is no way to stop it.

You can usually tell the state of my mental health by how clean my house is. When I am well, I keep up with the dog hair, nose art, dishes, floors, bathrooms, common areas, etc. The floors have not been washed in weeks. The bathrooms have not been cleaned, especially the toilets, in weeks. And the worst part of all of this is…I don’t care.

The reality of the world I live in is this…if I don’t do it, it doesn’t get done. The state of the house does not matter to either my husband or daughter. When I get frustrated he tells me to leave it. So I have been…and nothing is getting done.

Changing topic ever so slightly…Halloween.

I despise Halloween. I don’t like the commercialism of it. I don’t like how it’s a candy grab for kids. I especially don’t like the amount of garbage that comes into this house. Because I know, if I can see the goodies, I will eat them. Even though I know they are made of additives, preservatives and other unpronounceable ingredients.

There are three large buckets laden with candy, chips, chocolate, gum, etc. And I cannot walk by them without eating something. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I have eaten more garbage food over the past three weeks, then I have in the last six months. And I feel the difference.

We have healthy food in the fridge, but instead we ate Halloween candy for supper. And I am furious with myself.

I think a good part of which is wrong with me is that my system cannot process what is being fed into it and I’m feeling tired, achy, miserable, because I’m going to have to detox again…and that is a very difficult process for me.

I have not yet cried for Baby H and for R. I should cry for them. I loved them both. And yet, the tears won’t come. Part of me is afraid then when the time comes and I do let go…I may not be able to regain control. And anyone who knows me, knows that control is important to me.

Next week I am going to be out Monday night, Tuesday night, Wednesday night and Thursday night. I don’t know what meals are going to look like, but I am hoping to get to the grocers and the market to get all of what is needed for pasta sauce, perhaps even make some soups ahead of time, that they can simply be reheated.

There are so many things that need to be done. The house needs cleaning, badly. I need to put a bunch of stuff away. I need the rest of the family to do the same.

But right now, I need to go and lie down. If I don’t sleep, at least I will be resting.

Tomorrow is another day.

Hopefully my motivation comes back.

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The past few days have been extremely emotional – on the verge of horrendous.

Last Thursday the Church was packed to overflowing as we gathered to celebrate the life of R. A man well-loved and never forgotten. He was 85 years old and died from ALS. He had a full and rich life, serving his country, his community. Marrying his sweetheart for 48 years and raising two sons. He was, as the Bible says, “old and filled with days”.

His Celebration of Life was, indeed, a Celebration. The Church was filled with gales of laughter as we remembered what a practical joker R was, and how he always found a way to make us laugh.

When the Church service ended, I went to the Cemetery while some folks from the Church tidied up. By the time I returned from the Cemetery the Church was locked up tight…with my keys and cell phone inside. It was one more practical joke from R. For the record, I did get back in the Church, about three hours later. And it is a story I will remember and will always laugh as I tell it.

Sunday was our Remembrance Sunday service at the Church. There was a wreath that had stayed from R’s Celebration of Life. We have a white styrofoam cross that we pin poppies to after Communion to change an instrument of hate and destruction into an instrument of peace and love.

During my homily I told the story of my Grand-dad whom I have never met. He was wounded in the First World War and suffered for the rest of his life from neurological issues. He married his sweetheart and had three children, one of whom became my Mam. But he was always a broken man.

I also told the story of two friends of mine. A clergy couple out on the East Coast of this Country. She is a priest in Halifax, and he serves as Chaplain aboard HMCS Toronto. Theirs is a love-story for the ages; a testament to their faith, love and commitment to each other, and to God.

Sunday afternoon we gathered to say goodbye to Baby H. The Church was filled with young people in shock, sobbing uncontrollably and looking for answers. A few members of the Congregation came to offer their prayers and support to the family; as well as to seek peace and comfort themselves. In short, there was a Church filled with people looking for answers.

It felt like they were all looking at me.

I had nothing.

No words. I tried my hardest to write an authentic homily, but everything I tried sounded hollow and unconvincing. “He’s in the arms of Jesus”. Yes, but he should be in his mother’s arms.
“He’s gone home to be with the One who Created him.” Yes, but he should have gone home to his brother.

For the love of God, he was 28 DAYS OLD. Not enough time to learn to speak, never mind have a full life and die “old and filled with days”. Children are not supposed to die before their parents. It’s not fair. It’s not right.

And then it struck me.

I didn’t have to say anything. My words would not be the salve that would soothe. The Community would extend their heartfelt support to each other.

At Baby H’s baptism I brought a candle, the intention of which was to light it when he got better and went home. He didn’t get better so the candle remains unlit. As I began the service on Sunday I lit a new baptism candle from the paschal candle (which signifies new life) and let it burn through the service and during the reception.

The readings were all chosen because they dealt with children, commissioning and being still in the silence. God wasn’t making an appearance in the machinery beeping and chiming. God wasn’t making an appearance in my raging against the wind and the pain. God was in the stillness, where God always is; and I needed to remind myself, as well as the Congregation; that sometimes we need to simply ‘be still’ and be in the presence of the Sacred.

As usual I wasn’t wearing shoes. I had intended to mention why before the service began, but forgot. Several people asked me about it afterwards and I told them why. They nodded as though they understood.

Today was Remembrance Day, one day after Baby H’s funeral.

The weather was horrible, it was cold, wet and sleeting. The crowd huddled together, comprised of men and women, young and old, children and seniors. Umbrellas covered strangers and friends, and we united to Remember those who laid down their lives, those who returned wounded, those who served and continue to serve in the Armed Forces.

We laid a wreath at our small town service for LGBT Members of the Armed Forces, past and present. The wreath had a rainbow ribbon on it and the purple sash said “Lest We Forget”. Poignant words indeed.

So much loss over the past while.

So much pain.

So much emptiness.

So much fatigue.

And so tonight, as I work far too late, I look out the window at the snow that is gently falling. I have just eaten something that I know I will feel badly about in the morning, but right now I need comfort.

Tomorrow is going to be a quiet day. I will return the house to order. I will do some computer work. I will nap. I may not even get dressed. And let today be a snow day. A Sabbath Day.

The title of this post is When Words Fail, but I’ve written nearly 1,000 of them.

I think, what it all boils down to, is being brave enough to be authentic. Of being caring enough to be vulnerable. Of being human enough to feel and to show those whom you serve all of these things.

We may not have the magic words. We likely have the same questions as you.

We may not have the answers. But we do have each other.

Thanks be to God.

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Recently I read a card that said “to a pessimist, taking a step back is a bad thing, to an optimist, it’s the cha-cha”. I’ve been back and forth over the past couple of weeks and I think it’s catching up with me.

The past few days I’ve felt, physically, quite rough. I’m tired, but can’t sleep. I’m either overeating or not eating. I have no energy. I don’t want to get up in the morning. In fact, I slept most of Monday away, which was likely what my body needed.

The problem I have with taking time to do nothing is that nothing else gets done. And that bothers me. There are dishes in the sink. There are people who need to be and have been promised a visit. There’s demands from the parish that need addressing. Meetings to honour. And yet I don’t feel the energy or desire to honour myself.

While I was on holiday I made myself a brooch of felt flowers to wear with my bright yellow winter coat. I love the coat. I got it on discount for $12 last April and have been waiting to wear it. My old winter coat, heavy, brown and nearing threadbare has been tossed out and I’ve pulled out my yellow coat. I have an adorable kelly green hat that had four leaves attached to it. To the leaves I attached three small felt flowers in yellow, orange and brown. My fall scarf is orange with threads of gold, green, orange and brown in it. I’ve got a pair of brown velvet gloves that have seen better days, but until I find a replacement for them, they will do for my winter ensemble.

I’m excited about my winter ensemble, especially the cost of putting it all together, which was $18 for felt squares, buttons, some threat and a new pair of scissors.

Fact is, my get up and go has got up and gone. And I don’t know if this is related to the concussion I gave myself a couple of weeks ago, if it’s the changes in the season (which is what I’m blaming) or if it’s something else.

I feel dizzy. I feel exhausted. I can’t focus properly. Yesterday I sat at a clergy day and while I enjoyed most of what the presenters had to say, the room was IMHO too small, there was not enough air circulation and it was incredibly loud. I feel whiny just typing the description of the room, but the reality is, I felt like I should have left an hour or two before the day was actually over.

Right now I can’t see the joy in my life. I know it’s there. I’m watching the dogs snoring gently on the furniture (and only slightly annoyed because they took over where I was going to sit – twice) and I feel a tug of love for them and yes, even some jealously that they get to sleep the day away while I have to go to work.

I’m worried that this is the beginning of a massive backslide for me, where I start cancelling things, and checking out in life, in order to cocoon and hide from the world.

Most likely today is simply a bad day. And once I force myself to get washed and dressed, to go next door and get some work done, I will start to feel better. Once I force myself to get to the grocery store and pick up the healthy foods on the grocery list, I will once again get excited about meal planning. Once I force myself to take my vitamins on schedule, I will feel better.

But for now I really just want to go back to bed.

I sent this out, not for sympathy or soothing. But rather, if you are feeling in that place of “blah”, where you feel like you’re taking more steps backward than forward, consider that it’s not backsliding, but rather you’re in a period of cha-cha.

Let the music begin…

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The past few days have been surreal. I’ve spent more time in hospital then I have anywhere else. A friend of mine had a baby boy last Friday evening. He’s beautiful. He’s perfect. He’s the love of my life. He had a rough day and spiked a fever, showed some signs of dehydration, so he and his Mum got to stay an extra night in hospital. Both were discharged yesterday after what felt like an eternity. They slept well last night and he’s feeding on a fairly regular schedule. So it seems he’s settling into life with his Mama and she is settling into life with him.

Usually I try to plan meals ahead. Not always successful. Monday I went to the hospital in the early afternoon expecting to spend an hour or two there. Was there until nearly 9:00 pm. Supper was take out, subs, and I was mindful of what I was eating as I was eating it. Last night was turkey sandwiches as I was again, at hospital for most of the afternoon, taking Baby and Mama home at 5:30 pm. Battling traffic across the city, detouring around accidents, etc., I got home about 6:30, just ahead of my Beloved. Sandwiches it was.

I’m completely off the wagon as far as breakfast goes…I can’t seem to get motivated enough to make breakfast for myself. I will make my Beloved’s lunch, but then not eat anything when it’s my lunch time. I’m not sure what is going on there.

I’m feeling good, my water intake is good, vitamins are back on track…now I need to get my eating patterns and choices back on track. I say this as I stare at my now empty coffee cup, attempting to conjure up the Coffee Fairy to bring me some.

I need to get to the grocery store and pick up some basics. I’m going to buy the ingredients to make pasta sauce and then make a double batch tonight and freeze some. I am going to plan ahead for my trip up north this weekend, so I have access to the types of food I want, and don’t end up eating processed garbage.

The strange thing is, since I have been deliberate in my healthier food choices, my cravings for garbage food have diminished. They are still there, but I’m finding healthier ways to address them. I can drive past a fast-food place and not have my mouth water, or start imagining what I am going to have there, as a reward, when I have been “good” for a while. The truth is, I don’t want to eat there. I want to eat at home. Healthy food. Home-made, from scratch food. Food that satisfies, the nourishes, that is healthy.

I’m not yet at the place where I crave carrot and celery sticks, but I have a feeling that may come…not tomorrow, but some day. And that is pretty awesome.

I wasn’t able to take the morning walk for nearly a week. And boy did I miss it. Last night, I dragged my beloved with me to walk the two dogs, and it was awesome. We got out this morning and did it again, and it was awesome. I am seeing a shift in myself, my attitude and my routine.

I want to be out and active. I want to move my body. I want to use my exercise equipment. I want to take walks. I want to eat healthy. It’s not becoming a chore (as much). It’s becoming a way of life.

Maybe not earth shattering for some, but is sure is for me.

Total weight loss since I came back from vacation in August – 15 lbs. Right now, it’s not so much about losing weight as it is about being healthier. And I am very much feeling healthier. Yay me.

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I am struggling with the balance of a new way of living; a new lifestyle, if you will. Since I have given up alcohol, I’ve been invited to a few parties, where the main objective is to drink. I’ve never been much of a social butterfly for events like that and I’m more anxious than usual now.

I have two such events that I’ve been invited to on Friday. And I don’t want to go. Don’t get me wrong, I quite like the people who are hosting and I think the reasons for the parties are good ones, but I don’t feel comfortable being in an environment where there will be both alcohol and food. I’m not ready; I’m not strong enough to be in those kinds of environments.

SO, I made a decision that this Friday night will be Family Fun Night. Not only do I get to spend quality time with my beloved and The Girl, I also have a perfectly legitimate excuse for not attending the parties. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

Will I ever go to a boozy party again? Likely not, as a boozy party has never really been my idea of a good time. I will be happy to drop my beloved off at said soiree and pick him up afterwards, but I don’t think I’d be staying. It’s not my scene. And really, should I have to justify my choice? Should I have to explain why I’ve chosen a healthier lifestyle? Um, NO.

So what I think I need to learn is to say “no thank you” when invited to said events, and not feel I need to provide an explanation. I think that’s what we call boundaries. 🙂

Today is meant to be a ridiculously humid day. The house is quite cool just now so I think I’ll work from home for the morning and then venture out to get some errands done.

Yesterday was a full work day. So today may be a little lighter.

See? Balance!

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