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Posts Tagged ‘pain’

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.

*sigh*

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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Worldwide, the 20th of November has been designated as Transgender Day of Remembrance. In 2013, 238 people were murdered because they were transgender. It is estimated that only 1/4 to 1/3 of murders in the trans* community are reported because of family issues, homelessness among the community, etc. Many trans* people live in “stealth”, meaning their family and friends may not know that they are transitioning, especially at the beginning.

Last night I attended an event in the City that was very well attended. There were many trans* people who I had met before and some I met for the first time. It was humbling to be called Ally to a group who are so dynamic and amazing, despite persecution, hate crimes and other indignities that they endure, almost every day.

As I heard the twenty names who were read and the horrific ways they were mutilated and murdered I felt a massive ache in my chest. How must it feel to live in state of fear, simply because you are trying to live your life with integrity?

There is still so much ignorance which exists in the world. Relatively speaking, Canada is a “safer” place to live and yet I have witnessed discrimination and ignorant remarks thrown at my trans* friends. It brings out the Mama Bear in me when I witness discrimination, and yet my friends preferred to either ignore the comment or leave the place where we were, to not draw any further attention to themselves.

For the love of all that is good and holy, we live in the 21st Century. We live in a place and time where we should be free to live as God has intended us to live. Where does it say that love is wrong? Where in scripture is it written that we are meant to live our lives in fear because of who God sends for us to love? NOWHERE, THAT’S WHERE.

I feel humbled and honoured to be an ally to a community where I have been welcomed with open arms. At every gathering there is laughter, hugs, smiles, tears, love and trust.

At the gathering last night the keynote speaker talked about the power of hope and how we cannot have hope without love.

I have said in this blog on more than one occasion, that I believe we can change the world, with love.

The time has come to eliminate hate with love. To silence the voices of hate with non-violent reactions of love. It won’t happen over night, but if we work together, by God, it will happen.

There was a 5-year old girl present, wearing a fabulous sparkly pride headband and she was mesmerizing. When the band was playing, she was riveted. When she heard the keynote speaker, she sat up on her Mom’s knee so she could see better. She is the reason we need to lean towards love. She is worth it and if we follow her, she will teach us what love is truly about.

No child is born knowing how to discriminate, or how to hate. Children are born free of all those things that can tangle us up. At what point do we start with filters and assumptions? Why does it have to be that way?

Today I have worn purple as a sign of respect to those men and women in the trans* community who have lost their lives, simply because they were living their lives with integrity. It shocks and saddens me how brutal we can be against one another. It makes me weep for the future of humanity.

And then I see a beautiful little girl and I hope that she will love us enough to teach us the way. That when she is my age, she will be able to tell her children about what TDoR stands for, and how we don’t have to do them anymore because society has evolved enough to focus on love and hope. She will be able to remind her children of the lessons we need desperately to learn. So the mistakes of the past will not be repeated.

Speak peace, have hope, live in love.

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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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I have been reading a book about Cognitive Based Mindfulness and I am relating to everything I have read so far. It teaches to focus on one thing at a time, one sensation at time, such as when eating.

This week has been a week where it’s been close to impossible to focus on one thing at a time. In fact, I spent several hours yesterday trying to transfer the Church website to another platform and nothing was working as it should I have been. I got frustrated and ended up leaving it be, knowing that it was not supposed to be a difficult as it turned out to be.

I had a horrendous night’s sleep last night. Could not get comfortable, was cold, my neck was sore, blah blah blah. I know I must have slept because I distinctly remember waking up several times. But it was far from restorative sleep. I sat down at my laptop, perched at the dining room table and began again, with a different platform than yesterday. MUCH easier.

I took a break to go into the City and run a couple of errands. Got back home and worked for a couple of hours, making excellent progress. Then I noticed that my jaw and face began to hurt. Yes, I was clenching my jaw. My head was starting to hurt…shoulders were up around my ears. Tension. But I was enjoying what I was doing…I had simply by focussing so much on what I was doing that I lost sight of everything else. Not mindful focus, hyper focus.

The dogs provided a much-needed break when they discovered a dead squirrel. Got them both checked over and they are fine. Squirrel is not rabid. And did I learn from the previous hours spent unmoving? Obviously not because I spent another two solid hours working.

Eventually I decided I needed to lie down, which I did, but again, could not get comfortable. I did focus on my breathing and did manage to get warm. So that was something. Made a simple, healthy supper and watched a movie with my daughter and after she went to bed I cleaned up the kitchen.

I decided to blog about today as a reminder to myself that it is imperative to take breaks, even when doing something enjoyable. I hope and pray that sleep will come tonight. I think some deep yoga stretches may be just what I need to loosen up and relax.

Tomorrow is a fresh, new day with little, if any, time planned on the computer. Tomorrow will be a day of celebration; celebrating our God, with our family. Celebrating a Sunday family supper for the first time in what feels like too long, and a night of board games. May even work in a family walk. Now that would be something to celebrate.

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So, I’ve been mindful of what I’m eating, cooking at home as much as possible and shopping regularly to ensure I have the freshest ingredients possible. It also makes the trip much shorter and far less anxiety producing.

Yesterday was a strange day. I woke with a rotten headache, limped through two services and was going to clean up the kitchen, but decided instead to have a nap. It turned into a 2 1/2 hour nap and ended with my beloved asking me when the induction service was for a friend of ours. It was taking place in a community nearly an hour away, but was starting in less than half an hour. Well, crap.

I got up, had a shower, got dressed and we decided to take the dogs to the dog park. We walked around with them while we were there, getting some exercise and enjoying the beautiful Sunday afternoon weather. On the way home we noticed a new restaurant that has opened and decided we would splurge and try it.

Buffets, on the whole, scare me. I can’t control the caloric or fat content, I’m often not sure what it is that is being offered (even if there’s a sign) and I’m terrified of overeating. I try to eat until I am just satisfied, not full or especially not bursting. All that went to you-know-where last night.

The buffet price was extremely expensive. There were four steam tables with hot foot, one with salads and cold food, one with carvery food and one with desserts. I started with salad, and it was okay. Not as much selection for salad vegetables, but it was something. My beloved loaded his plate with meat.

I ate slowly, savouring each piece and rested between plates. The first plate of hot food was good. I took a little bit of a few things and decided which I really liked, which I thought was good, and which didn’t care for. Being raised as I was, I was taught never to waste food, to eat whatever was on my plate. But last night I did leave food on my plate; I felt guilty for it, but I did it.

I decided to be adventurous and try some new things that I hadn’t tried before. And most of them remained on my plate. I have decided that I much prefer to eat at home, as I know what it is I am eating and I have the added bonus of cooking the food and knowing how it’s prepared. *sigh*

By the time I finished eating I had a sharp pain in my left shoulder. I was having difficulty breathing and I wanted to go home. My beloved was not finished, as he was determined to get his money’s worth. The restaurant always makes money on me, even when I try to overeat, which I did last night. Not so much with my beloved. He loves his meat.

So by the time we finished up, paid the bill and headed home I was feeling quite rotten. I went outside for fresh air with the dogs and made my beloved promise that we would go for a walk with the dogs this morning. We did. And I feel better for doing so. But now I’m anxious about what to eat today.

Dinner is planned, and I’m glad about that. I have not had breakfast, but I will have lunch. I’m going to do some baking this afternoon in between appointments, so we have some treats. I’m thinking apple and cheddar muffins and some mixed berry muffins. Which means another trip to the grocery store. And, today, that will be okay.

So, a sincere lesson learned. No more buffets for me. Can’t do it. Don’t want to do it. For the next while, no more eating out. Cooking at home, as clean as possible and from scratch where possible is what I need to do.

Going to continue with multiple litres of water a day, increasing vitamin D and Omega-3. Limiting caffeine, eating balanced meals as much as possible, and hopefully will be able to stop obsessing.

Am excited about the commitment I’ve made to be healthier. And I’m especially pleased that my beloved has signed on as well. I’m also enjoying how my clothes are fitting, especially my clergy shirts.

Slowly, and surely, I’ll reach my optimum health. It will be more than numbers on a scale, or numbers on a chart. It will be about my feeling good; both inside and out. I’ve a long way to go, but I’m moving in the right direction. Thanks be to God.

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The past few days have been a struggle for me, with respect to food. I am having conversations with The Narrator again when I’m making food choices, especially in restaurants. For example, my Mam weighs 114 lbs. I weigh more than twice that. She orders french fries, I order salad. She doesn’t finish her plate, but encourages me to do so. And so I do.

The Narrator chimes in like this “Hey, look at those fries. They look fresh-cut. Remember the smell of blanching fresh-cut fries…just have a couple. It won’t do you any harm.” So I have a couple. “Don’t those taste awesome? C’mon, eat them all.” And before I know it, the plate is empty. Then it starts, “you stupid, fat, pig. No willpower at all, do you? How do you expect to lose weight when you shove stuff in your mouth without even thinking about it? What kind of loser are you? How do you expect anyone to listen to what you have to say, when you can’t even control yourself? Just stop eating.”

Then I spend the next couple of hours feeling badly about myself. I’m afraid to go to the grocery store. I’m afraid to go into any store because I fear I’ll make a bad choice. So I don’t eat. And then I get scared that I won’t eat again. Craziness! Oh, and I did just take my meds for the day.

Yesterday I woke after a fairly rotten night’s sleep and took my Mam out for breakfast. My Mam LOVES to eat out. I fear eating out. More often than not I make healthier choices, but some days my balance is off and I fall off the wagon. We went out for breakfast, which is a veritable minefield at the best of times. My brother joined us for breakfast. I ordered eggs, over-easy, fresh tomatoes instead of home fries, and rye toast. I finished it. It was three eggs. But I did make healthier choices.

I had a peanut butter and dark chocolate protein bar with a bottle of water for lunch. The rest area was crammed full of people and I didn’t want to stand in line, so I grabbed something moderately healthy and kept driving. For dinner last night I had nothing. I did drink four litres of water from when I got home to when I went to bed. I need to go grocery shopping. I have a list. I have my market bucket. I just need the resolve to go.

I have an appointment in the village at 2:00. I think I may go after that. The store should be quieter then.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading about genetically modified foods and realise, with great horror, that we cannot get nutrients we need from the food we eat. It would take 12 cups of broccoli to give us the same vitamins that one cup would have given us 50 years ago. The reason why so many of us have medical issues is related to malnutrition. Unbelievable.

I’m doing some reading on the need for vitamin and mineral supplements for the chronic conditions from which I suffer. It may all be b.s. but I’m willing to try almost anything if it will improve my quality of life.

So, today is a day of getting things finished. I look forward to seeing a neatly made bed in my bedroom and in the spare bedroom, with a set of bedding neatly folded and put away. It may be a small thing, but it is a ray of sunshine in an otherwise challenging time.

Restoring order from chaos. Something from which I take great satisfaction.

I wonder if it is coincidence that this year we are doing a four-week series on Creation? Hmmm, coincidence with God? I think not.

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It was a great time on vacation. I spent the best part of the first week sleeping. I knew I was exhausted, but I had little comprehension of just how exhausted I was. I look rested, I feel rested and at the same time I’m feeling quite overwhelmed.

I have had difficulty keeping focus since I got home. The house is in a perpetual state of disarray, and I’m trying to get laundry done, as well as organize the next couple of weeks. I will be very glad when school starts and swimming lessons finish so I can return to some kind of routine.

Being away I had a lot of time to think. About who I am and what I want. I have realised that I don’t have the physical strength to do many of things I really want to do. I wanted to take up running again, but I don’t think my joints will handle it. I wanted to do all kinds of things, and yet I didn’t get many of them done. And I guess, that’s okay.

So right now I’m dealing with a full-blown CFS flare. My body aches, my joints are warm (which is not good), my sleep is interrupted, not restful and I’ve got more verbal and cognitive confusion than usual.

I likely could have used one more week, but the reality of the parish means it’s not possible. I came back to a massive pastoral issue that needed to be dealt with and still needs to be dealt with. And there is the joy of an out-of-town wedding on Friday/Saturday, then another wedding the weekend after.

So it simply never ends.

I’ve had a houseful of people since I got home and I can’t find a moment’s peace. And it doesn’t seem to matter. So, I need to breathe, remove myself, and try to be gentle with myself.

After two more emails I will. Honestly.

I am glad to be back. I am.

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It could be the edge of insanity, or it could be the edge of awesome. I don’t believe I have ever felt this weary and yet this wired at any time before in my life. It’s a strange manic/hyper place, where I am not the slightest bit familiar. I don’t like it here.

The past two weeks have been really rough in many ways and I am so very happy to be getting away from this place. I love what I do, and I love where I live, but right now I’m so empty that I’m worried I’m starting to corrode.

My yoga mat is packed and ready to go. I have a list of things to put in my handbag so I have what I need for the train ride at my fingertips. I have packed some healthy snacks to take with me so all I have to buy is sparkling water or perhaps a cup of tea. a friend is taking me to the train station so my husband and daughter can have an afternoon of awesome together going swimming.

Today we went to an off leash beach in a big city a couple of hours away. The dogs were good, the younger one has never been in the lake before and he loves it. He’s a natural swimmer and even gave our dock diving older dog a run for her money. They slept soundly, snoring most of the way home.

The towels from today’s adventure are in the dryer. I’m going to flip them around and put them on again as the load was really full, and I’m quite sure they’re not dry. And then I think I’ll go to bed.

I have no homily for tomorrow. And I will own it. I’m overtired, I’m beyond exhausted and I’m very pleased that I have two weeks away beginning tomorrow. By this time tomorrow I will be with my friend, driving from the train station to the small town where she lives and I will really and truly be on vacation. I was have two weeks of Sabbath. And I can’t wait.

The lists have been prepared of what I need to bring and many of the smaller things have been packed. I have a book I’m bringing for a course I’m taking in September, that I may or may not get around to reading. I am bringing my yoga mat and my journal. Two dresses for theatre events we are going to, and a small collection of tops and bottoms. A yoga jacket, a heavier cardigan and that’s all I need.

Makeup is packed, jewellery is packed, clothes have been set out but not yet packed. Still have to pack toiletries, which will happen tomorrow after Church and then, I am done.

I need to pick up a pair of sandals I was looking at the other night. My right heel is an absolute mess, and the sandals I currently have aggravate it. My thoughts of extended walking are on hold for a week, I may pick them up on week two of my vacation, if my heel is in better shape. The weather is supposed to be cooler and wet for the first week, then bright and sunny the second week. Awesome.

I will not set an agenda. I will take each day as it comes. I will take better care of myself. Drink lots of water. Eat healthier foods. Laugh uncontrollably. Pour out my heart and soul in words. Pray without ceasing. Stretch my mind and body into better health. Eliminate sugar, refined flour, processed foods and alcohol from my diet, perhaps forever.

Mindfulness is the touch-word for this vacation.

I don’t know when I will blog again. This vacation will also be electronics free. My cell phone is coming with me for emergencies, and for checking on my family. But nothing else. It will not travel with me if we are away for the day. I will not come with me or be near me when I am practicing yoga. And I’m looking forward to that.

Today, I feel like I’m standing on the edge of insanity. I pray that in two weeks I will be standing on the edge of awesomeness. Only time, determination, faith, and openness will tell.

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I have been away from posting for a while because the internet connection has been down at the Church, and with that, also comes the wireless signal going kerpluey. I have no idea if that’s how you spell kerpluey.

The past couple of months have been exhausting. My eating habits are back to awful (again). My weight has stabilized which is good in one way, but not in another. My body shape continues to shift, making me unsure of what size I am or whether a piece of clothing will fit me properly from one day to the next.

I’ve presided over too many funerals. I’ve officiated too many interment services. My focus is not where it should be. My body aches from fatigue and I can barely get through the day.

I need a vacation.

Thankfully, I have two weeks vacation starting on Sunday. After Church I only need to change the Church sign and get a ride to the train station and I’m on vacation. My cell phone is coming with me to check in with my mother and my husband, but that is it. No Facebook, no email, no internet. I don’t know if I will find the time and resources to blog.

Tonight, my husband and I need to go into the city and while we are there I am going to buy a journal. I used to journal regularly and then I stopped for a number of reasons. I think it’s time to start again. I bought a new yoga mat and that is coming with me. I intend to practice yoga every day, sometimes outside, and move my body every day.

I intend to eat well every day that I’m away and drink lots of water. I want to come back from vacation healthier than I was when I left, and with good practices in place.

Yesterday was a 12 hour day for me, and by the time I had presided over two liturgies, a Memorial Service, mediated a conversation between mother and son and had a “brief” home visit to a teenage parishioner who is about to leave home for her first full-time job; I was absolutely starving and knackered.

We heated up some left-overs, I kissed my husband good night and I went to bed.

I woke up about 10 hours later, still feeling as tired as when I went to bed. And I don’t like that.

So I wonder, what comes after exhaustion? And if you get there, can you come back to health?

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