What I know and What I believe

Know: to perceive or understand as fact or truth; to apprehend clearly and with certainty

Believe: to have confidence in the truth, the existence, or the reliability of something, although without absolute proof that one is right in doing so

I was making frozen yogurt and realized that instead of plain, fat free yogurt I had purchased plain yogurt with fat. It wasn't that much fat and I had already opened the package, so I went ahead and used it. I can't say I know for a fact that my frozen yogurt was creamier and tastier. But I believe it was. And do I believe it was because of the taste or because I know that I was using a higher fat content of yogurt?
What do I know? What do I believe? I believe there's a God. And the fact that I can't say I know there's a God would lead 1/2 the people I know to applaud me and the other 1/2 to vilify me! It seems to me that the stereotypical quandary would be "I believe xyz but I don't know xyz for a fact". I mean, hasn't that debate been going on for millions of years? Science vs. theology? Fact vs. feeling? With the exception of God, I find it hard to pinpoint things I believe in very strongly but don't know. In fact, I seem to be going in a different direction. The things I know aren't true but I want desperately to believe in, as well as the things I know with absolute certainty are true, but I keep choosing to believe they are not.
I've spent a good many years wanting to believe that I could make my marriage work, but knowing I couldn't. But the desire for that, the belief drove me, relentlessly.
I want to believe that my daughter can come out of her childhood unscathed by the choices I've made and I pretty much know that is impossible.
I know that a 12 step program can save someone's life. I've seen it. I have data! (Okay, I don't have data, but someone does, somewhere!) I've experienced it in my own life. Right now, I'm not sure I believe it though. To have confidence in the truth...without absolute proof... that's faith right? You lift the definition of faith right out of the definition of believe.
That can't be an accident. And I know the reason I feel like I don't believe it is mainly because I'm in a bit of a funk.
I know that if I ignore my bills and don't pay attention to my bank account, terrible things happen. This is not a hypothetical...this is what I do, because I believe if I just close my eyes and focus on other things, that it will all work out best in the end. And as a result, I get late charges and screwed up credit and overdraft charges!
I know if I eat sugar, I will begin to binge. I know if I weigh myself more than once per month, I will become tied to the scale. These are facts in my life. There is no way around them. I choose not to believe them, sometimes I'm desperate not to believe them. I really don't want these things to be true. I really want things to be different that aren't and never will be. But mainly, I want me to be different and the only way I'm going to know I'm different is by acknowledging the ways that I'm never going to be different...from myself. (Hang on...I'll let you get a calculator to figure that one out!)
It doesn't seem to matter how long I go on with new behavior, healthy behavior, behavior that in every way enhances my life...it's like 1 old action, 1 old thought feels like I'm back at square 1. It's so frustrating! So hey here's a thought! Avoid the old actions! Avoid the old thoughts! Sure! Because life is just that manageable. Especially for an addict. And as much as I might like to believe I'm not, I know I am.
What I've noticed is that most of the time when people say "I have to believe abc..." then that is followed up by, expressed or implied, "...or I'll lose my mind..."
"I have to believe there's something better on the horizon..." "I have to believe that it can be different!"
So what do I have to believe or I'll lose my mind? I guess just that I'm doing the best I can with my eyes open. My mother always said she was doing the best she could and I never believed it. Still don't. And there are days when I don't believe it about myself. But I am human. Imperfect. (Feel free to gasp now!) I am still learning and probably will be until I die.
This weekend, I am going to an OA convention. I am holding out a lot of expectations. Okay, just 1. To get back on track with my program. I am abstinent and have been for awhile now. (No numbers!) But I want something to kick me out of my funk. That's it. D., in his infinite wisdom, said that the convention will satisfy me in some aspects, go beyond expectation in some areas and fail me in others. In other words, what B. is always saying. The Convention I want, the Convention I get and the convention I should have had. But these are my people. I know that. I believe that. This is my family. My favorite family. That in itself makes me feel better. These are the people who know me so much more intimately than anyone else. If I just go in with that expectation, a few days of happiness, of peace, of love surrounding me, I have to believe I'll end up feeling better...or I'll lose my mind! (HA!)

Side note: The picture on this post is what comes up when you google something like "Belief vs. knowledge" image. I don't know what it is or what it means, but I know it's weird looking!

You are cordially invited to...A PITY PARTY!!!!

Poor me is not how I live my life. It’s my mother’s mantra. I feel like it’s very much M’s way of thinking in many situations as well. (In case you haven’t figured out, low these many entries, I married my mother…I’m also concerned I may have given birth to her!!!). But I have made a conscious effort, from my perspective, to not let myself get bogged down in self-pity. Perhaps whoever is reading this is saying “Yeah right!!! Have you read your blog…” but I really hope it doesn’t come across as a series of “poor me” notes. If it does, then I need to reexamine my point of view, I guess.

Things right now aren’t great. They aren’t terrible. They just…are. Everyday, on my day planner, I have 2-4 things listed and that includes my 2^nd job. So what can I cut out? It seems like everything is important on some level. It seems like everything extra is small and the smalls are all starting to add up. All my outside activities constitute from 1 hour per week to 1-2 hours per month. If I’m doing something for church and it literally takes 2 hours per month, is that really something I can say “No I don’t have time for?”

I guess one of the real issues, if I’m going to be honest about myself (and that’s the thing I like the least!) is that I am disorganized! With my time, with my papers, with my money, with my work, with my projects. And sometimes, it’s like it’s intentional because I get a rush from having things in mass chaos, but pulling out a victory at the last minute. B. tells me she’s sort of the same way, and pays a price. And I am too, I’m starting to see. As she also told me, I am “no spring chicken” anymore. Uh…hello? Harsh!!!! But true. I read an article about a guy who has apparently vowed to whittle down all his stuff to 100 items. He wants to own 100 items and no more. Now I haven’t done any research on the logistics of this…(is his house 1 item? Is furniture he shares with his family count as his?) I think I read he figured out he only needs 2 pairs of jeans so he gave away 1 pair. But again, this is a concept that fascinates me. Could I do that? I don’t know. I would probably use all this pent up creativity that I DON’T get to use on my food anymore, and put it towards that! It would probably end up being “Well, this is 1 category, so it doesn’t count…M & McG use this more than I, so this doesn’t count as my 1) but this is just an idea. But I digress… Seriously, how much better would my life be if I knew where everything was. If the papers were arranged and my car was clean and my room was clean? How much stress would go away?

The other point is, that I’m feeling run down, I’m feeling tired, I’m feeling a little beat up, I’m feeling a little resentful towards my 12 step group. It has exploded from weeks where we were lucky to get 3 attendees to now averaging 12-18 people every week. And it’s wonderful. Those of us who have been in this meeting for a while are thrilled that people are attending. Recently, I’ve really been wishing that we were back to 3, back to a more intimate setting. I feel like I can’t share as openly. I feel internal pressure to stay positive and impress these new people. Maybe one will ask me to be their sponsor, so my “share time” is really an audition of sorts! God I’m pathetic! And I’m feeling a little sorry for myself that all these people are impeding my ability to be honest. (Of course they aren’t!) I’m feeling sorry for myself that I have a disease and that it follows me everywhere I go and that I have to work steps and take action and read and pray to keep it from killing me. I hate that I can’t be normal. I’m feeling sorry for myself. And I hate it.

So add all these feelings in with 2 jobs, 1 child who has me on the run (including needing her tonsils out, swimming lessons, orthodontist appointments, play dates, Sunday School…I’m thinking of buying her a day planner of her own!!!), church, my recovery program, and my house to run. And I’m stressed. And I’m going insane. And maybe I’m making it worse by resisting this natural tendency to just wallow for a bit. I am the ultimate multitasker! That’s something I used to be proud of! I steer my car with my knee while putting on make up (kids, don’t try this at home!) and searching for reports in the back of my paper eating car that has so much crap in it, McG’s car seat barely fits! I’m cooking food for 5 days in advance while I’m filling out a calendar of where I’ll be for the next 10! I’m doing frantic grocery shopping on my lunch hour while talking on my cell phone and writing in my day planner. And it feels like it’s killing me.

I’ve always said no matter what happens to me, someone else has it worse. I took McG to a place downtown the other night where we served food to the homeless. A very dear friend is having some tests for what could be some serious medical issues. For God’s Sake, they are getting ready to foreclose on Ed McMahon’s house!!! There are millions and millions of people worse off than me.

So I suck it up and I try to fix it and I get busy and overwhelmed and I fall apart. Maybe a minute or two of “Poor me” would help, once in awhile!

Plus when I get like this, I don’t turn to God. I’m not really upset with God or questioning much anymore. I just don’t feel like I have the time. In my mind, God is for praying to in times of tragedy and thanking in times of great success. Not for just saying “Hey, I need some help navigating these very pedestrian issues in my everyday life.” And maybe that’s what is also getting me in trouble!

So I’ve worked out some time in the morning, driving from 1 job to another, where I can talk to God. I’ve got to work out some time to read my OA literature. I’ve got an OA convention coming up. Even the things I enjoy, that are designed to help me in a million ways, suddenly feel like a time suck!

All together now…Poor me!!!

There are an average of 730 hours in a month. That’s a lot of time. And it feels like no time. Maybe a week of writing down exactly where all this time goes would help me be more organized. Of course, I’d probably lose my data in the back of my paper-eating car or use it to blow my nose before I realize!!!!

Wages of a misspent youth

When I was a teenager and in my twenties and most of my thirties, I was fat. But my body was remarkably firm. It always amazed me that everything got bigger, but not necessarily flabbier. Also, even though I spent a good deal of the past 22 years at 220 pounds or more, that I never really had any health issues. Never. I was fat but basically, fairly healthy. Granted I never really got a physical, but I felt good.

Ah…(no pun intended)…the salad days!

Three years ago, I drove through a Jack In The Box at 10pm and got 3 egg rolls. I wouldn’t say I have ever eaten a lot of fried foods. This was an occasional indulgence. (Most fried food didn't have sugar, so I was never that obsessed with it!) I went home and I ate it while watching TV. ½ an hour after I was done, my heart started racing. It was going 100 miles a minute. I was having trouble breathing. It was one of the few times in my life that I’ve been scared, in the present, that I’m was going to die. I was afraid to go to sleep. I went to the doctor who did some heart tests and proclaimed me healthy. I judge him a little for looking at a 230 pound woman and saying “You’re fine” but whatever.
Two years ago, I went to a Walmart and had one of those in store health screenings done. Basically I was told that I was 1 cheeseburger away from a stroke. The shoulda-been up stuff was down, the shoulda-been down stuff was up. Bad news. I don’t know that it necessarily propelled me into action, although I can say that 2 years later I had the same test done at a health fair at work and everything was normal. I passed with flying colors. At that point, I had lost almost 50 pounds. A connection, maybe? Nah!!!

Also, for my entire life, I could eat as much as I wanted of whatever and never have any physical symptoms (beyond the weight gain). In the past 6 months, I’ve noticed that when I binge, I’m getting sick as a dog. I am having major problems when I eat something not on my food plan or when I eat something on my food plan but in excess. (Cashews are permanently banned from my diet FOREVER!)

I mean, what is going on!?!?!?!?!!

Well let’s just call it “I’m not 22 anymore-itis”

But something else I’ve noticed, is my body is getting flabbier. Never had a beautiful body, but as it’s getting smaller I am starting to see signs of the fact that I’m probably not going to be very firm again, ever! And since joining a gym a few years back, something has become increasingly clear. These things we’re walking around in, are not meant to last. Our bodies are like just about any other living or inanimate object on the planet, with the exception of Styrofoam! As it gets older, it deteriorates. Now I know this is nothing revolutionary, is anyone truly shocked? Of course not! But it has never been so clear to me as it is now. I see these women working out in the gym. They are in their 50’s or 60’s, they are fit and trim and I envy them and pray that when I’m 50 I’ll look like that. And then I’m walking into the locker room and they are changing in the same row as me or they are standing in the shower and I see them naked. And they are sagging and things are hanging and I start to feel…I’m not even sure what. These women, by doctor’s standards or whatever, ARE healthy, I’m sure. And they have obviously mastered the fine art of dressing to positively accentuate their bodies and I envy that also!

I’m just realizing that even if I do lose another 30 pounds (which is my long term goal), let’s face it, I’m not going to have the body of a 22 year old, regular sized woman. I guess I could, were I willing to spend massive amount on plastic surgery. But even magazines now show close ups of celebrities cellulite and some of these people, you see them in their eveningwear and they are amazingly beautiful. But they have bodies like we have bodies and those bodies are wearing out and breaking down as a result of nothing more than age. Again, not exactly new information. Just not something I had ever thought about. And maybe a small part of me did think that if I weigh 160, no matter what age, I would be firm and taunt in all the right places. I’m not particularly devastated. Just a very tiny bit sad. However I’m also not so delusional that I don’t realize that had I not spent most of my life at or around 220 pounds, my body might look better now and in the future! No one can take the credit for that but me!

On a happier note, I rode 5 miles on my bike today and I feel great! My favorite people in the entire world came over for dinner last night and we were talking about Europeans and Asians and New Yorkers, all who walk an average of 4 miles per day and as a whole, are much more fit that the average American and it inspired me! Of course, as gas creeps up, I’m finding all sorts of inspiration to ride my bike. Each time I peddle, I can pretend, for a moment, that 160 really will bring me the answers to all my dreams! (No one call for an intervention on my delusional state! I'm mostly kidding!)

Alone!!!!

I spent 2 1/2 hours on Sunday printing out itineraries, ordering tickets and packing clothes for M & McG. All of this in anticipation of their big 3 day trip to FL. They leave Wed and come back Sat. M. joked he felt like I was pushing them out the door. I just laughed, but truthfully, I have never been so excited in my life. The thought of 3 days, alone, in my house has got me giddy. I have so many things planned, not the least of which is catching up on my alone time, because I LOVE to be alone! I don't know what the attraction is. I just know that if I can get M to take McG to the movies and I get 2 hours by myself, it's like the least stressful time. Being in my car, alone, listening to music, okay singing really loudly and dancing around, but still!
My mother says I should feel guilty, since I'm acting like I won't miss McG. I tell her that I'll miss McG very much, but she's not going off to war! She's going to Disney World for 3 days!!!
I always hesitate to tell people how much I love to be alone, because I don't want anyone to think I don't love time with my friends and with my family. I do. I cherish it. I don't want anyone to ever say "Well, let's not call her and see if she can go out...she prefers to be alone..." when that is not the case. It's not that I prefer to be alone...I just LOVE to be alone! (Did I mention that?)
So they left yesterday. I was at work when they left and then believe it or not, E. came over for dinner and a movie. Just friends, not at all weird. It was nice. Then after she left, I started watching another movie and dozed a little. I woke up completely about midnight and decided to check my email before bed. Nothing there, but then I went to Youtube and ended up dancing around the room while Lisa Loeb sang "Keep on Lovin' You" and then I ended up pretending I was in a rock concert as I sang "Alone" by Heart. Stupid stuff, I'll admit, but stuff I can't do when I live with 2 other people!
This morning, I woke up at 6 and the morning, so far, has consisted of walking around my house naked. I ate breakfast and watched some TV, naked. Not sure how this experiment is going yet, but you know what? It doesn't matter. I can do whatever I want until Sat. night. And the funniest part is, my "alone time" consists of so many things with other people. My meeting tonight, then R. coming over for drinks. Lunch tomorrow with a friend and tomorrow night, I'm throwing a dinner party for 4 friends and then Sat., early lunch with A. So I could hardly be considered a longer! But between my many social engagements (HA!), I will be doing what I want, when I want, exactly how I want with zero people to criticize or scrutinize or offer friendly "suggestions". I even told my mother I would issue a restraining order if she came within 500 feet of my house! This is my time to be alone. Ann and Nancy would understand!!!

I'm not a Buddhist, I just play one on TV

This week has been so, so busy that I've been working on the same post for 7 days, but I've decided to scrap it for this one.
I came upon, this article a few weeks ago.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/15/garden/15buddhists.html?_r=2&oref=slogin&oref=slogin

If you go to this link there's an article about this Buddhists couple. They live in a hut in Arizona and they've been together for a decade or so. They are never more than 15 feet away from each other for 10 years. 10 years. Never. They travel together, all over the world, they work together, the apparently go to the bathroom on this toilet in their 1 room hut in the AZ desert together. They read in bed together (the same book). I don't know why, but these people absolutely fascinate me. There have been 2 more articles I've read about them other places. One was an "imagined" conversation between the two principals and is actually really funny.
http://www.vanityfair.com/ontheweb/blogs/daily/2008/05/nell-scovell-wh.html#more
and the other is a couple trying the whole "Absolutely never more than 15 feet apart" on their own for 24 hours. It was also pretty amusing.
http://www.slate.com/id/2192282/
The point being that these people are just so interesting to me. Yes, part of me wants to mock and ridicule them. Part of me falls in line with many people mentioned in the article and their skepticism. The cliche of the beautiful young "student" and the older "teacher", they aren't really "together" so much as she is following him around like a puppy dog doing whatever he says.
And did I mention, they are celibate? They say in 10 years, they have not had sex.
I'm not sure what it is that just makes me so drawn to this story. Maybe it's the fact that they are a "non-traditional" family. Like I'm in a "non-traditional" family. Like gay and lesbian families are "non-traditional". It makes me feel a little special, in my own mind at least. It makes me feel different and I love feeling different. I love feeling unique. And it usually comes crashing down on me that I'm not particularly any of those things. And of course, my family is not "out". There are only a handful of people who know about my situation, to all others, we are about as traditional as you can get! One child, first marriage for both, living in the suburbs. But we're not that traditional and I kind of like that sometimes. And sometimes not. I mean, we're not non-traditional simply for the sake of being non-traditional. It's how it works best, most of the time.
The other thing that maybe makes me so interested, is the fact that they are celibate. There's something in there about his "laying hands" on her as a doctor would a patient, and she mentions that sex is a "low practice". A low practice. And there are apparently other activities that foster their sense of intimacy.
I've been thinking about celibates recently. I've been thinking about 2 years of sexual energy built up and how it generally does not really effect me, but when I would be around or go out on a date with E., then I was so aware of it and it seemed to drive me in a way. It was something that was really wonderful and really exciting and then, when nothing came of it, how infuriating and frustrating it was for a period, followed by this period of release and calm and feeling very much at peace. I've had similar experiences when I've been around people I'm attracted to and nothing comes of it. (And nothing EVER comes of it, because these aren't people who are aware of my feelings.) But this build up followed by this wonderful release, it seems secure in a way I'm not sure sex is. It doesn't feel like it during phase 2 (the frustrating part) but almost always, when phase 3 hits, it's a very satisfying calm and centeredness.
Now, I am not saying I'm becoming celibate! Let us all make that perfectly clear. When I was in my mid-late 20's, I decided to become a vegetarian. I decided that I could probably lose more weight if I did. I spent 2 days telling people I was a vegetarian and that I would not eat meat again. I think it lasted about 12 hours and then I was at McDonald's chowing down on 2 double cheeseburgers! And then for a month I had to explain to people at work why the "vegetarian" was eating a ham on wheat. But hey, if I proclaim myself celibate, maybe I'll end up having sex! :)
I'm saying that there are these moments when my body is at peace. And for me, it's not letting go of aggression and anger so much as letting go of stress and the need to think. I think A LOT! I don't say this to myself appear intelligent. It's more of a hyper thing. If I am trying to be still and be calm, it takes me 10 minutes to get away from the place where I am thinking about what I have to do at work and what time is McG's field trip and on and on but once I do, it's so joyous and wonderful. I've always said I'm a laid back person. I'm not sure that's true. I don't get angry that much. I let things happen as they happen, but I do worry. And internally, I thrive on stress and the adrenaline that comes from being disorganized and pulling out a deadline at the last minute. But this peace, which is pretty new to me, is so amazing. I felt it when K. hypnotized me. She talked me through to a place where my body felt so heavy and my mind was clear and when it was over, I felt very relaxed. This past week I took a yoga class. My first. It was amazing. It was at my office and it was wall to wall people but when it was over, I felt very relaxed (and tired!). In a week of being at 2 jobs 12 hours a day. plus doctors appt. and swimming lessons, it was so wonderful.
Maybe craving these feelings is why I've recently been wishing I still smoked pot. I got the same feeling when I did and it was actually easier to procure that trying to get this feeling through meditation or anything else! Now, again, I am NOT saying I'm going to start smoking pot. It's illegal (right or wrong) and at this point in my life, I would have absolutely no idea where to even get any. I guess I just worry that if I am able to get myself to this place of the wonderful feelings, will I eventually have to work that much harder to hit it? Will by body begin to build up an immunity to the calmness, Zen whatever the hell it is, so instead of doing X-Y-Z for 15 minutes to get there, will it take me 35? What if it does? Well, sometimes I'm working so hard at everything, I really want to be lazy when it comes to myself. Maybe that's part of the issue. If I can spend a hour looking for M's wallet and an hour looking for McG's school bag, why can't I spend 30 minutes on my own well being? Why do I always come last? I guess according to the freaky Buddhists, I'm not supposed to concern myself with self at all, is the impression I got. But I'm not a Buddhist, I'm not a celibate, I'm not a vegetarian. I'm trying to make strides in my life and I do feel a certain self awareness coming over me. (Self indulgence? Self involvement? who knows.) I just know that after the stressful week from hell, where at 1 point I was sitting in traffic, honking my horn, screaming at this woman and giving her the finger, (to qualify she was an idiot!) and another where I've got everything in my purse poured out on my car seat, crying because I couldn't find an insurance card and it was the 18th crappy thing that had happened THAT DAY, I could use a little calm and peace and it's all totally legal.