Expect a miracle

I wasn’t going to write today, because the mood is rather subdued. I ran over a cat while I was driving home last night and feel terrible about it. Not that I could have prevented it. I was driving slow enough, but it just shot out of nowhere right in front of me. Until last night, I’d always managed to stop. There are several cats in the neighborhood and I’m used to watching out for them. So today I am pondering how suddenly things in life can change — from one second to the next, and how important it is to always be aware and alert. In the now. I intended to pick a goddess card, but got distracted. (By the way, here’s the name to google: Goddess Guidance Oracle Cards if anyone is interested.)

In the meantime, I just heard from a friend that his son’s illness has worsened and they don’t expect him to live more than a few days. That really devastated me. I’d known he was ill, but he’d been stable for a while, so I kind of expected him to recover.

When I got the email about his son, I sat here and cried, not knowing what to answer. We’d planned to meet tomorrow, and he was cancelling due to the worsening situation. I sat quietly. I did not want to already offer condolences. Then I knew what to say. I told him what I’d heard just the other day: “As long as you are breathing, there is hope.” And I promised to light a candle, which I’ve already done.

The friend I had moaned to this morning about the cat wrote back and asked me which goddess card I’d picked. I had completely forgotten about it! (I’d mentioned to her that it seemed like it was a good day to pick a card.) In the middle of writing back, I stopped, not wanting to get distracted again. The deck nearly split as I lay out the cards.

Who did I pick? Mother Mary. She says: “Expect a miracle. Trust that your prayers will be heard. Trust is the light which shines upon your path. Without trust, the future appears to be terrifying. Thus it is necessary for you to take every step in good faith and trust. Please don’t give up hope — not for yourself and not for others. Let the light of faith shine in your soul. Even the smallest spark of hope can chase away the darkness of doubt. Be the light that can shine for others when they lose hope. When you support others, you not only help yourself. You help the whole world.” She advises one to “Think positive. Let go of all worries and fears. Be aware and follow the godly direction you receive. Pray. Focus on spiritual healing.”

That is exactly what I needed to hear. I will pray and trust and expect a miracle. I cannot determine ahead of time what the miracle will be, but I will pray until I glow with hope and faith, and that miracle will occur.
Remember: As long as you are breathing, there is hope.

Windows

Okay, this will be my last mention of housework for a while, and of windows in particular. I actually took my own advice, and simply decided to get started. I put on some good music and got to work. Believe it or not, it was just like I said! The moon is in Gemini (I just checked my calendar), the windows were easy to clean, absolutely no smearing, and the time flew by. I got to listen to three whole CD’s (Gung Ho and Land, disc one, from Patti Smith and Stadium Arcadium, Jupiter, RHCP). That was quite pleasant.

I confess, it took me a while to get started, but that was because I had to cook lunch, and anyway, you’re not supposed to clean windows when the sun is shining directly on them. In the morning I was too busy (had a second cup of coffee and sipped very slowly), so I had to wait. In the meantime, I practiced that cute little insanity song I wrote the other day — over and over. I really like it. It has a very catchy tune.

The process of doing the windows and listening to music is very healing. Is it a coincidence that my thoughts are clearer now – like the windows? I doubt it. It’s good now and then to do something different, take care of a task from the bottom of the list. Some days I focus on really stupid things that I consider a waste of time, but it’s nice when they’re done. (You know – like wiping off the stair railing, door knobs and light switches, or the tops of light fixtures.) It’s kind of like clearing things out in the subconscious – nobody notices it, yet there is a different feeling in the air. And your hands don’t stick to the doorknobs! (My daughter had a couple of friends over the other day, and they helped her finally finish off her Easter bunny. All I can say is, teenagers can make just as much of a mess as toddlers!)

During a break I briefly discussed something I’d hesitated to mention with my husband. It didn’t bring quite the results I wanted, but it was one more step towards better communication. That’s good enough for today.

The moral of the story is: Just get started. It’s not as difficult as it seems.

Sunday ramblings and revelations

I guess I’ll just dive in. I listened to calm music last night to fall asleep, and it wasn’t calm enough!! There was some percussion that kept jolting me. So I need to check out music for falling asleep. That doesn’t really surprise me, being a person of extremes. Now that I have surrendered to the need for calm music, it has to be REALLY calm! I put on the Gregorian chants, and that was better.

While cooking lunch today, my phone rang. It was my sleepyhead daughter calling from upstairs. She’d come home late the night before and had just woken up. With motherly intuition, I answered the phone: “Meals on wheels. How can I help you?” She replied, “I’m hungry. Can you make something with spinach?” I just happened to be making spinach crepes, which is one of her favorite meals. (It is odd: she doesn’t like many vegetables, but she likes spinach.)

Meal preparation is a good time to let one’s stream of consciousness run free. Various thoughts occurred to me. I’m still feeling helpless, as if I don’t have control over my life. I remember the year before my 26th birthday, when I decided it was now or never with recovery, because I had spent half my life as a bulimic. If I didn’t stop at 26, it would become more than half of my life.

I moved here (to my then-boyfriend-now-husband) when I was 23, and this fall I turn 46. Once again, that half-way point of life is lurking in the shadows of my consciousness. Maybe I’m going through this struggle all over again to better show what is involved in recovery - beyond the simple information on how it is possible. I wanted to offer my story as encouragement for recovery. What better way to emphasize that recovery is a life-long process than to share my next big step? It’s a little harder this time, because other people are involved - a husband and two children. Nor do I have any substances to get me through it. Alcohol doesn’t work. Nor do I want to smoke or eat sweets. What to do when there’s nothing left - nowhere to hide? I don’t know yet.

Once I had the necessary determination. I need it again. Maybe the bulimia recovery was just the dress rehearsal to prepare for true emotional recovery. This is the big show - the main performance. (Until the next one, that is!!) I learned to recover, to eat, to take fairly good care of myself, but emotionally didn’t quite restore the complete sense of self worth. Now it’s growing, and it’s a challenge to remain in the daily routine. In fact, I’m changing things step by step.

One very important step in recovery is humility. Every time I start to get too full of myself and think I’m on top of the world, something happens to remind me that I’m like everyone else. I need to remain humble and grateful for each day. That keeps me grounded. I’ve generally been the one to offer advice, be strong, help others, or play a leading role, so it is a strange feeling to be so slow on the path and look to others for guidance. But those ahead of me are also humble, and they encourage me - shining the light and beckoning for me to come join them. That is a wonderful gesture.

My Children and their Food

I confess, I wanted to be a perfect mother. Now that I have more experience in the matter, I opt for the “good-enough mother” description. As long as I do the best I can with the resources available at the moment, I am doing my job. You see, I ran myself ragged the first few (10?) years, and then realized that it was to nobody’s benefit.

Naturally, there is one especially important issue: Food. I have a burning desire to prevent eating disorders in my children. How? I never make them finish everything on their plates – not even if there’s only one bite left. I encourage them to serve themselves, so they get a sense of how much they need. Now I sometimes regret that I wasn’t more insistent about them at least trying new things, but that’s how it is.

Part of my recovery was about being good to myself, which means the food looks nice, and if it’s meant to be served warm, then that’s how I want to eat it. A cold, chopped-up half-portion on a child’s plate does not interest me. As a rule, I never finish things on their plates. Table scraps are table scraps, and I am not a garbage can! Neither are my children!

My husband grew up without eating disorders but with less abundance, and has a tendency to finish things. (His parents experienced the Second World War and the food scarcity, which left an impression on him.) He suggests that the children finish things on their plates, but it’s more a reflex on his part – a habit I gently ignore. They don’t let it bother them. He has mentioned the starving children in China, and my son at one point asked: “What good will it do them if I eat this?” Lately, I’ve taken to joking: “Ask Papa if he wants to eat it. Otherwise I’m sending it to China.” By no means do I encourage waste, I just don’t want things swallowed at all costs.

Unfortunately, I was overzealous with my first-born. I cooked vegetables and pureed them myself, but overdid it on the carrots. To this day, she cannot eat carrots. (Back then I didn’t quite get it about the need for variety.) In fact, she doesn’t like most vegetables, which is a shame, but I can’t force her to eat them. I keep hoping she’ll end up with a boyfriend who likes vegetables. Never underestimate the power of love! (Meanwhile, a couple of her favorite meals actually have vegetables smuggled into them!)

I definitely made some mistakes, but on the positive side: I breastfed both babies for 9 or 10 months, I give them regular meals, and don’t have much snack food in the house. Now that they are teenagers, they like to take their meals in front of the TV at times – and sometimes their schedule varies, because they are out with friends or hanging out in their rooms on the weekend, and at 10 pm suddenly realize they are starving! But generally we eat together at the table. There is no TV in that room, and the radio is always off during meals. For me, the importance of the meal is not what’s on the table, but that we are all sitting together.
My daughter has a weakness for ice cream, but I blame that on the heat wave during my pregnancy. Cold baths and ice cream were a matter of survival! She definitely does tend towards sweets. I have enough in the house to prevent feelings of deprivation, but not enough that it becomes a problem.

My son is easier. He likes vegetables and has always been a good eater. Maybe that’s because he had more variety from the start. He likes sweets as well, but is quite moderate. (Funny enough, during that pregnancy there was another heat wave, but I didn’t eat quite as much ice cream.) His behavior reassures me that either I didn’t do everything wrong, or that a lot has to do with a person’s character. (I don’t mean just about eating!) He is the athletic type and easy going.

Watching children eat and grow is a unique experience. Sometimes it seems like they get by on nothing. Other times they consume large quantities as if they’re starving and you can literally watch them grow.

My daughter had the tendency to get a bit pudgy, then shoot up a few inches. That was her rhythm. She is not very athletic. (She gets that from me! I think we both grew too quickly and were thus uncoordinated. As an adult, I’m coordinated and enjoy sports more than I did back then.) When she was 11 years old, her tummy was again round for a long time. I made a subtle effort to be more active and cut back on cookies, but I did not make an issue of it. I remember one occasion when we went out to dinner with two other families. One of the fathers and his teenage son are both somewhat overweight and he had mentioned it as a problem on past occasions. My daughter wanted dessert. This man, meaning well, I am sure, said something to the effect of: “Are you sure you want dessert? Look at that stomach! Don’t you want to have a nice figure?”

I was furious, but managed to control myself. I glared at him and indicated that he be quiet. My daughter told him that she always gets a bit round before growing taller, just as I had explained to her at some point. After she enjoyed her dessert and went outside with the other children to play (they have a wonderful yard and play area at this restaurant, which is very popular with families), I told him that I’d had an eating problem for several years, that I would not make an issue out of a little tummy in puberty, that I don’t want him to make any more such comments in her presence, and that guilt is not the way to deal with it – the best way to start an eating disorder is to feel guilty and go on a diet. I won’t go into exact details, but today he is still overweight, and my daughter is now taller than I am, beautiful, and slim. And she still enjoys the occasional dessert!

She still has a slightly round tummy, which sometimes bothers her. I tell her she looks fine, which she does. Actually, since she’s started going out more and walking more (and I stopped driving her everywhere), that tummy has diminished of its own accord.

An experience of my own comes to mind. When I was 13, a male friend of the family patted me on the butt and made a comment about my curves. That shocked me, and I felt dissatisfied with my body and very uncomfortable.

I remember when my daughter was in kindergarten, she came home one day and asked me if I thought my thighs were too fat! I was quite surprised, but said, “No. I’m happy just the way I am.” I’ve worked hard to promote that image, as I know how much we pick up from our mothers. (Mine was tall and skinny and always on a diet! I realized later she used to binge and then fast. Many years later she confessed that she’d even tried to throw up, but had never been able to do it. Gee, am I surprised about my own behavior as a young woman?)

So, it’s not easy. I do the best I can as a mother, and still have to cope with outside/societal influences as well, over which I have no control. Things are generally working out well. I have conveyed an attitude towards food as being a pleasant necessity, but not overly important. It is definitely not an enemy, which is how I once perceived it. In retrospect, there are a few things I would do differently, but isn’t life always like that?
My daughter just got home after a long day at school and said, “Mommy, I’m starving! Please make me something nourishing to eat!” Little things like that make my day.