Fears at bedtime

So for Lent, I’m trying to do things that will help me become a better sleeper. This is, of course, little sacrifice compared to what Jesus endured before Easter, but each time I must stop obsessively working (or obsessively checking Facebook–let’s be honest!) to install myself in my cozy bed is a mini-reminder of all the sacrifices God had made for me. I also want to sleep better so that I can eventually have fewer headaches and more energy, to then better serve the children and others God has placed in my life.

Before you think I’m feeling noble in this, let me fill you in on a little secret–I’ve been trying for some variation of sleeping better for at least about 25 years now. I cannot remember one week–or even string of 3 to 4 days–when I slept 8 hours or even just lay in bed that long. I seem to sleep well for about 2 nights, then get crazy on the third and feel guilty about all the resting and work I didn’t accomplish. Then, I stay up until 2 or 3 a.m. and move grumpily into the next day, at best functioning and at worst making others grumpy.

 

But the Bible tells me,

It is no use for you to get up early
       and stay up late,
    working for a living.
       The Lord gives sleep to those he loves.

(Psalm 127:2, NCV)

And the Bible also tells me God loves everyone, so he must love me and want to help me get some rest.

Now, my issues are many–I have trouble falling asleep because of anxieties and fears; I awaken sometimes 3-4 times a night; and as I mentioned, I may not get to bed in the first place because I feel so guilty about not accomplishing more.

For Lent, I’ve gradually been incorporating both practical and spiritual ideas into a bedtime routine. For example, I started by turning all screens off by 10:30 p.m. when I learned that it takes about one hour after watching the bright light for the body to begin producing melatonin to calm me down. Except for some issues with a road trip and wanting to stay up on weekends, this is going well. I’m also wearing a sleep mask, and I’ve banned my beloved kitten from the bedroom while I’m trying to sleep. He’s just too wild at night!

And for the last several nights, I’ve tried listing what’s worrying me and what I’m grateful for, as well as thoughts for those who may need prayers, right before I sleep. It’s been interesting. The first night, I found that for each fear, I had a corresponding gratitude item right next to it: Parts of the fears were actually good things in my life. And for the past two nights, I felt so much better that I started out thinking, “I’m not worried tonight.” Then, I would list all the gratitude items first. After a bit, I did think up a few worries to list, just so I could give them up to God and not think about them anymore. But it was so cool to have this paradigm shift. Normally, I lay awake thinking about all the fears and anxieties, but for two nights, I’ve almost been fearless by leaning on God.

I’ve also had a lot of worry lately about the issues surrounding whether I’ll be able to get pregnant and whether I’ve waited too long and what kind of a mother I’ll be or whether I’ll even be able to become a mother. Then I remembered two nights ago that God gives me strength each day to handle that day’s worries, and I decided to take a sabbatical of sorts from worrying over this and allowing it to keep me awake at night. There’s nothing to be done about this right now until I next meet with my doctor, so I’m choosing to think more on this later, and instead focus on improving my health for now.

I still have those nights when I just want to work, and I’ve been struggling often with tension headaches and migraines, but there have been several refreshing nights leading to more hopeful days. And after 25 years, that’s pretty remarkable.

maps in green hazel

(originally written November 13, 2011, as a free-writing exercise on seeing the signs of age on something)

 

“After a certain number of years, our faces become our biographies.”

–Cynthia Ozick

I have a secret. A secret that would shock most of my female friends–nay, most Americans.

I like my crow’s feet.

Now, I know they’re not super-noticeable yet, being that I’m just 35. But, they’re there all the same. I remember the first time I really registered their existence, their permanence. I caught my reflection in the full sunlight of noon (rough time to catch your reflection!) in an SUV window. (What compels us to always check our reflections? Do only women feel this need?) I was on the phone with my husband. I stopped dead and told him, “Oh my God. I just realized my crow’s feet are there, even when I’m not smiling.”

But of course, smiling is why they’re there. They are a testament to 35 years of broad smiles and too-loud laughter. And that is beautiful.

Now, lest you think I’m lording it over women friends and claiming I’ve found “the secret to acceptance,” I’ll also share something not so secret–I hate those two lines where my nose meets my forehead. You know the ones, friends–between the eyebrows.

These are a testament to 35 years of sleepless nights, tears, worry, pain, and carrying stress in my muscles. Several medical professionals have told me how to get rid of them– “Stop making that face.”

“Oh yes, of course,” I think snarkily. “I’ll just stop worrying altogether.”

Maybe as I learn to lean increasingly on God with my fears and problems, I will scrunch and furrow less often. Of course, by then, I hope I’m less concerned about the silly lines! And some of the scrunching has been from deep thinking and tears of joy.

Besides, the crow’s feet lines are numerous, but there are only two forehead lines–so if I think like that, beauty’s winning!

Fear of the Lord, or of what he’ll do if I let him in?

“This is the crisis we’re in: God-light streamed into the world, but men and women everywhere ran for the darkness.” (John 3:19, The Message)

During my undergrad years–when I was really beginning to delve into the Bible and to think of about God and his love–a well-meaning older student told me, “Whatever you value more than God, God will keep taking those things away until you have only him.”

I think this was meant to be helpful. It may not even be Scriptural, but I did think about verses in which God talks about his jealousy and about taking away our idols and other loves. What that boy–who was really also just another confused human sorting his way through walking with God–told me has sometimes led to near panic attacks, as I check in with myself on whether I’m loving something too much or holding on too tightly. And it hasn’t served as the wake-up call he’d intended where I step back and loosen my grip and offer the thing to God and feel less worry in my life. I think, in fact, that it sometimes makes me run farther away, gripping tightly to my clutter (I might need this someday), my obsessions with food and weight and “rules” about what I put in my mouth (God might make me obese so I’ll love only him), my strength training (Will God let me sprain an ankle AGAIN so I have more time to concentrate on him?), and so many things that cloud my thoughts and take my love and focus from him.

Now, this isn’t all the time, but it’s most of it. If what I spend the most time thinking of shows what I value most, then what I value most is definitely ME and holding on to this life I’ve created–even if it is filled with stress and grasping at shreds of beauty and ensuring that others will not leave me. When I am able to step back from it, I can see that it’s no kind of life. My days are so filled with striving that I can’t sleep. Or I won’t sleep so I can accomplish more, thereby earning the love of everyone. And of God. And it all wears me down.

Maybe those moments of clarity are when I’m letting God in. If I think of his vision for me and his promises to give me life in abundance and peace and rest, then I can be fairly certain that doesn’t include total doom for me. But I also know people who love and trust God far more than I, and they have also suffered far more than I. Of course, I know that God CAN do whatever he wants, regardless of whether I’m open to it, but I feel like these rules I wrap myself in can somehow keep disaster at bay. If I don’t eat a single artificial dye, if I wash my hands longer, if I am careful about the way I run, then maybe I can stay thinner, healthier, injury-free, and be more appealing.

But I know from the times I’ve let go and experienced real joy and connection with other people and with God that he has so much more in mind for me than just staying attractive. I pray occasionally to be open to God’s changes and healing, but gradually I keep coming back to the place where everything rests on me. More and more lately, I’m realizing that I’m not up to the task. God, I want your help. How do I get past the worry and fear?

Jan 29, 2012–any further than when I began?

Here I am, with 36 so close, I can practically hear it coming, and I’m feeling a little bad about how few posts I’ve made. It’s not that things haven’t filled me with wonder. There’s been a lot of wonder, and I wish I’d captured it here to help me remember all the blessings because 2011 was pretty tumultuous at times. But tying it up at both ends were celebratory times with my family, all of whom live far from me. I rang in 2011 on the Jersey Shore, celebrating my niece (whom I can still feel as a baby in my arms) marrying a handsome soldier–literally, they were married on Jan 1. And, I celebrated “Thanksmas” in late November with my husband, my mom, 3 brothers, my sister-in-law, 2 nieces, and 2 nephews (one brand-new) in Minnesota.

I suppose the tumultuous times give me a bit of an excuse for not writing as much as I’d planned. Both of our cars broke down a couple times each–once at the same time. But this did allow God to come through in the way of friends lending us cars and giving us rides. He gave what I needed, if not necessarily what I wanted, right? I learned that fibroids in my uterus are what’s causing me pain and horrible symptoms monthly, and to fight those I had to go on meds that push off trying to conceive even longer. In October, my amazing, sweet, godly friend Lois passed away, just 5 months after giving birth to her premature baby and only days after finally bringing her home. (I’ll add a link about her story at the end of this post.) That rocked my world for a long time. Then, after spending a quiet Christmas on the farm with John’s family, we took our cozy, loving cat Whiskers to the vet, only to learn that he was in advanced stages of kidney failure and needed to be put to sleep. We held him as the first shot didn’t work, and he looked at us questioningly. And when he’d died, it was so strange because he still seemed to be there, just asleep.

So, anyway, here I am at the dawn of a new year, recovering from a bad stomach day yesterday (and the stomach flu a week ago and migraines before that–it’s been a rough run!), my cute, rambunctious new kitten, Iowa, by my side, thinking over how I feel largely the same as when I started this blog. I still have so many questions. And I still have this bad habit of starting things, then letting them lag after they really get going.

Like the Intuitive Eating course. I HAVE gotten to where I’m less dependent on my obsessive food “rules,” not leaning on them so much like protection. But I DID gain 10 pounds, and I stopped reading and doing the mindfulness exercises mid-way through the process. I’ve just let myself get stuck at not worrying so much about rules and “bad” foods. While my sweet hubby says I still look fantastic, I can feel that I’m less healthy than I could be. But I’m so tired of battling weight. I’ve always yo-yo’d from too thin to a little too heavy. And I get tired of battling the digestion issues, which could have been caused by horribly restricting my eating as a teen, but really that’s not what’s important now. What’s important is where I find strength. I guess it’s good in a way to have this trouble because I can’t get cocky that I’m making MYSELF healthy with my plans and rules, which is how I used to look at it.

My husband and I have re-started the Intuitive Eating book together. We’re taking it slowly, and we’re studying Scripture with it. Today at church, the speaker talked about Paul’s encouragement in these verses of Philippians (emphasis added by me):

Philippians 3:12-14     New International Version (NIV)

 ¹² Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. ¹³ Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, ¹⁴ I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 3:12-14     The Message (MSG)

Focused on the Goal

 ^12-14I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back.

The speaker, Justin, was talking about parenting adolescents, but it grabbed my attention, and I journaled on it. Justin noted that we need to step back, “chill” and take a breath, and stop trying to blame others or ourselves for how we got to where we are. Then, we’ll have more freedom to look ahead and see a vision for ourselves. I hope I can align that vision more to God’s vision this time. I’ve always included looking thin and sexy in my vision, which if I really look at them, are shabby goals compared to all a woman CAN be, and I think I hear God including “health” and “strength” in his vision for me. But, can I let go of my constant blaming? This was something I noticed when I first started the mindfulness work back in May–how very often I say unkind things to myself.

So, I’m not sure if I’ve come much further. I’ve still got so many questions. I’m still unclear on the best time to try to have a baby. I’m still struggling with food choices and weight and appearance and with feeling “less than” women who seem to have it all together (which, of course, they don’t). But I guess life is like that. I guess some of us keep going back and forth with struggles, or facing new ones. I hope I can remember better this time to forget about the blame and move forward to some of the things God has planned for me.

To learn more about Lois’ family, visit

http://www.mightymelodyfund.com/

Too much zen?

Okay, I would never claim to be a calm woman.

For some reason, I’m normally very calm at work. With eight noisy, occasionally upset, toddlers. Even sleep-deprived.

But in my personal life, I can agonize over the smallest decision. Especially when I’m sleep-deprived…which, let me admit it, is a LOT of the time. But, I’m trying to work on that. Like last Saturday morning, my dear, kind husband took me out for breakfast at Corner Cafe, where they have amazing Rye toast. That was what I went there seeking. But then, I had the choice to get French toast instead. Or, to forgo entirely anything of the toast nature and instead have an omelet. I got so upset that at one point, I was holding my forehead in my hand, bemoaning the fact that nothing can be simple.

Where did THAT come from?!

Granted, there are other crazy keeping-up-with-this-adult-life-I-never-signed-up-for type problems, and it probably culminated there, in the restaurant after many sleepless nights. But really if breakfast is the big issue– these are the problems you want to have, right?

But overall, I haven’t felt I’ve had much to blog about recently, and I realized as I walked in the heat to meet my husband that I haven’t been agonizing much. His remark to that: “You can write about good things, too.” Which is, of course, how this blog started out.

One good thing that’s been happening came about through the mindfulness coursework. One week, we had to complete the thought, “If I wasn’t afraid, I’d _______.” Well, after a series of knee/ankle physical therapy bouts over the last 11 years or so, I wanted to get back into more working out, but I also feared yet another round of injury. I decided I’d take a yoga class again.

Now, I’m not one to do physical things in front of other people unless I’m absolutely certain I CAN do them. Even when some doctors tested my twin brother at two years old, I just pretended not to hear them when they asked me to run across a balance beam. But I found a reasonably cheap yoga class and joined it after the other members had already had 3 sessions together.

I was so nervous they wouldn’t want an “intruder,” even though that would not be very namaste of them. It turns out, though, the instructor is hilarious, and no one else is watching you anyway. The only time I look at the other people is when I can’t figure out his verbal description of how to contort my body! It’s been amazing to realize how much further I can push my body beyond the yoga I’ve been doing at home. I’ve learned new poses, and I’ve learned that I can do some really tough ones with pretty good form. I’m only 4 weeks in, and I’m feeling so much stronger. Perhaps this is part of why my mind is in less turmoil. And if so, it’s good not to have as much anxiety to write about!

(By the way, after my omelet on Saturday, I took leftovers home, took a nap, and was a much happier woman on Sunday!)

If there were a photoshop for real life, would I use it?

So, my friend and I were talking tonight about the mindful eating adventure and how, if I stop to think about it, I’m a little freaked out about not having weighed myself in 5 weeks. Eating what I crave when I crave it had led to some definite facts and some vague notions in my head.

Fact: I have far more energy and mental clarity now that I’m eating more often.

Fact: I am far less stressed about food now that I’m not trying to follow all my “rules.” (You might not realize it by reading this blog, since I keep talking about food. But I used to live with both a love and fear of food. And food is not that big. I should be loving and fearing God, but I’ve kind of made food a god in my life, if I think about how much I base my safety/sanity/health/thoughts on what goes into my mouth. Anyway, more on that another day.)

Fact: In letting go of food rules, I am forced to lean harder into God to keep myself from freaking out so much!

Vague notion: I am unsure of whether I have gained weight from the Oreo/ice cream excursions. I am aware that I still fit into loose summer clothing, but without the reassurance of the numbers on that machine, I can’t be positive. I know it may sound ridiculous and like I’m over-thinking it (and at 35, I can admit that I over-think most things). But those numbers gave me reassurance that I was controlling SOMETHING in my life. I’ve been wondering, at the end of the 11 weeks, will I go back to weighing to myself? Will I be so obsessed with it? Will I be a million pounds? Will I be more at peace, even if I’m a million pounds? Aaaarrrrrggggghhhhh!

So, back to my friend…I mentioned to her that sometimes I’ll see a woman walk by, and not to torture myself, but because I’m really seeking clarity, I’ll ask my husband John whether I am the same size as she is. Invariably, he tells me I’m much smaller. Now, he could be being kind, because he’s a great husband, but here’s the thing… my friend told me she’s been doing the same thing. My friend seems very slender and beautiful to me, so I was struck by the significance of her also playing these mind games with herself.  She shared with me that in her experience, women see themselves as 2-3 sizes larger than they are, and men see themselves as 2-3 sizes smaller.

We also talked about a survey I read once in which men said they knew some models were airbrushed but still wished their wives looked like the models. In one of the books for class (Breaking Free From Emotional Eating), the author talks about how in America, we’ve bought into the myth that through what we eat we can completely control what our bodies will look like–and that many disgusting things have been eaten in the name of having slimmer arms and legs! She notes that while my food will affect my body size, there are some body types I will just never have. So wait, I’m NOT going to be Penelope Cruz? I guess I know that, but I still beat myself up for it!

I used to joke that some days I’d like to have that blurry dot from magazines, so that I could go out looking like whatever and just cover things with a blurry dot. Tonight I’ve been thinking about the airbrushed models. If I could shave off part of my hips and add in the wall color to make myself slimmer, would I? I mean, I’ve been really thin before. I mean starving-myself-spine-showing thin, and I still wasn’t satisfied. And if I’m calmer now, as I’m trying to re-discover what I actually like to eat and what it feels like to hungry or full, maybe the vague notion of more belly isn’t so bad. And if my husband thinks I’m beautiful real, would I really want to be fake?

Do we ever sort all this out?

Forbidden Fruit and epi-pens

So, I’m soldiering on in the mindfulness-based eating class. The principle this week is about making peace with food. The main book we’ve used so far in the course is Intuitive Eating (Evelyn Tribole and Elyse Resch), and they offer three ideas to make this peace, the first being that you have no forbidden foods. Apparently, much research shows that when you deem a food off-limits or it’s availability is restricted, craving it is the natural response.

For about a decade, I lived through this with one food, not because of any diet I was on, but because my health literally depended on it. When I was 23 or 24, I became allergic to tomatoes. Luckily, I never had a breathing reaction, but being sick for three days after eating any tomato food was enough to encourage me to stop. I won’t go into gory details here, but suffice it to say, they don’t taste as good coming back the other way!

Here were my thoughts for the group today…

I’m living proof that you can have insatiable cravings for a common, even healthy, food if not allowed to have it. For nine years, I couldn’t eat tomatoes.

When I was about 24, I started having various reactions for one to three days after eating them, and when I underwent allergy testing–sure enough, I was highly allergic. I had never even realized they were an allergen! In the 9 years, I only met 2 other people with the allergy.

This not only leaves out tomatoes, but anything containing them–good-bye French dressing, BBQ (and I live in KC), Doritos, tri-color pasta, tomato soups, spaghetti sauce, red pizza (and I don’t like white–do you know how few places make really good pesto pizza?!), and a lot of Thai food, which I love.

One night, I made my husband tomato soup, brought it to him, and had to leave the room so he wouldn’t see me crying. It got that intense. You’d think you might have this reaction over, say, cheesecake! It was compounded by the fact that I grew up in New Jersey, and it seems like Italian food is everywhere. I would grieve the fact that I would never be able to prepare and enjoy my grandmother’s stew with my own children.

This does have a happy ending, though, at least so far. The allergist started advising me a few years ago to take my epi-pen, sit in the hospital parking lot, and try various tomato foods in small amounts. “If you have a reaction, stick yourself and go in,” he’d advised. Well, that sounds like a great time! Then, more recently, I found out they can just repeat the skin test. I didn’t react! I was advised to go ahead and eat tomatoes, but just not every day. Luckily, this was just before a trip home to NJ for New Year’s. I never enjoyed tomato sauces and Boardwalk pizza so much in my life! Sometimes I get a little carried away–yesterday I had salsa and tomato soup, and the dentist advised me recently that my cheeks may be getting a little raw from all the tomato eating, which apparently happens to many people in the summer. Hopefully, I’ll start to crave them a little less soon, but right now, it’s like a small taste of heaven!

a journey to mindfulness

So, I’m embarking on a Mindful Eating course. One principle of mindfulness is nonjudgment. I never realized how critical I am of myself. Pretty much everything I say to myself is a judgment about how I SHOULD have done it. For 2 weeks, I’ve just done things, without fear that the world might fall apart. I have eaten Oreos for the past 3 nights, and I haven’t once read the nutrition label. I know it sounds like a small thing, but man, it’s freeing!

It’s a little scary, too. Starting out, participants must let go of dieting or “food rules,” and I’ve got more food rules running around in my head than the Old Testament! I am a little scared that I’ll suddenly gain a million pounds, but of course, that’s not reasonable. And what I’ve been doing so far (obsessing over every bite–is it natural? is it local?) hasn’t brought me amazing health. If anything, all the stress has made me a wreck. So, I’m trying something new for a while–being kind to myself.

Over these first couple weeks, my biggest challenge, but also biggest stress reliever, has been thinking about being kind and non-judgmental of myself. I hadn’t realized how harshly I talk to myself ALL THE TIME. I mean, I knew I had a lot of “food rules” in place (I even call them that in my self-talk), and I knew that if my health suffered in any way I looked at this as a consequence of breaking food or exercise rules. It’s been so strange, but also freeing, in these couple weeks to simply eat things because I’d been craving them, without fearing that I might fall ill or suddenly gain tons of weight. I mean, I’ve eaten Oreos the last few nights without even checking the label for trans fats, partially hydrogenated oils, or artificial ingredients. And I haven’t died.

A lot about the way I was raised has led to my food/body obsessions. I was constantly talked to about shopping being fun if you’re thin, how to look thin in photos, how to sound thin when walking. In high school, I was borderline anorexic. Even reading Mindless Eating (mentioned in this week’s education tip), while being enlightening, also led me to make more rules around eating!

I hope I can stick this out–being kind and nonjudgmental and eating things my body craves. It’s strange and scary, but like I said, I feel less stressed. It’s interesting giving myself permission to do something and looking at my body for what it does well instead of what’s “wrong” with it, you know?

medical tests and the blood type diet?

05.11.11–Phew! That’s largely how 2011 has made me feel so far. We’re down to one car and spending ridiculously long hours on campus so we can drive together, which of course means…little to no sleep. We endured the Great Plumbing Debacle for a full month–dealing with the repercussions of the city’s having forgotten to hook us up to the sewer a year ago. (Lets just leave it at this: One night, as we plunged the toilet, water would come up into our tub. Disgusting.) I’ve gone through several stomach bugs and increasingly crazy monthly symptoms of a womanly nature. And I’m working like crazy to serve the children and families at work. I could go on with my issues, but I guess there are some things in my life that don’t belong online!

So, yes, much of the time, I’m worn out lately. I want to feel vigorous. I pray for renewal of strength. But when it comes time to lie down, I either can’t get to sleep or can’t even get myself into bed in the first place!

Today, I was fortunate enough to get a day off of work to deal with some medical tests. These always scare the crap out of me. My mind starts whirling on all the things that COULD be wrong with me or that could be the inevitable, deadly outcome. Often, of course, nothing comes of the tests but a lot of worry on my part. After the tests, I sat waiting in the hospital cafeteria waiting for my husband (because of the one car), feeling fragile and alone. I wrote in my journal, I wonder how many other people here are feeling lost and alone? So, I started looking at them. I saw a young girl, bound to a wheelchair and signing with a woman who must have been her mom. I saw a young man, also in a wheelchair and needing oxygen. And I thought how, as scary as my current tests are, I’m thankful to be able to move and breathe without assistance at this point in my life. After my husband joined me, I told him about this, and my eyes were immediately drawn to one older woman and then another. One ate alone in the small cafeteria and then got up–was she on her way for testing or to visit someone, or had she already done so? Then, another elderly lady walked in and headed for the hospital map. Her eyes looked nervous and a little sad. I debated about whether to go offer assistance, when she spotted a hospital volunteer who helped her. Now, it may be just hormones, but thinking of these four about set me off crying for the second time this morning. I’m glad that I feel deeply, but sometimes it can be overwhelming.

Somewhere in all this, I began to pray and decided to look at Psalm 55. Since I love language, I looked up a few different English and French translations to compare the wordings and thoughts. I was particularly struck by verses 16-17 in a translation I’d never before come across… “Je me lamente, et il entendra ma voix. Il a mis en paix mon ame” (French Darby version). It basically says, I cry out, and he will hear my voice. He has put my soul at peace. But the use of the verb in the second sentence really shows that it’s God doing it; nothing I’m doing puts peace in my soul, but rather, God has put it at rest.

My husband and I ate, and then I dropped him at his evening job on campus, and I headed to my chiropractor. I love my chiropractor and how the adjustments have helped decrease my migraines and tension. One area that hasn’t gotten much better is all my digestive issues–a cause of some of those previous, anxiety-provoking rounds of testing. I talked with the doc a little more about it after my adjustment, and she recommended I try out the blood type diet. I’m all for holistic medicine, but I’ve heard that this diet may not be the greatest. Also, I’m not into “diets” or anything that puts healthy foods off limits. Still, I’m giving it a look, but I’ll want to do more research. I thought I could at least try adding in more of the healthy foods.

As I looked, one area that upset me was under “misc. beverages.” The document divides foods into categories and then into whether they are beneficial, neutral, or to be avoided for your blood type. The suspect part was that it listed beer as neutral for my blood type, without any guidelines as to amounts (but this could be due to who made the list and not the diet’s creator), but it said coffee and black tea–both with a wealth of research on their health benefits–as bad for me.

You’ll know from a previous post that these two drinks tie me to my family roots, and I love them. I’ve been cutting down on caffeinated coffee, but I’ve never planned to cut it out entirely. Still, I know some research says it’s hard on digestion, and I guess I could just drink less. The crazy thing was, I had just parked at Starbucks when I read this. So, here I sit, sipping my green tea latte (according to the diet, the green tea is good, but the skim milk is avoidable) wondering how I feel about all this.

Is this a mid-thirties thing? I certainly didn’t have all this health stuff when I was younger. Am I being stubborn or smart in my resistance to the diet? Aaarghhh! Once again, I don’t know, and I’ve got somewhere to race off to be. Once again, reader, I’ve got few answers, only more questions. That seems to be my life course in 2011….

if all my dreams had come true

April 12, 2011–

After several days gone dealing with crazy car and plumbing issues–a not-so-fun part of adulthood–I’m here contemplating a wonderful part of it–the way life has turned out.

I was thinking of it just now in my car, in fact. See, we got the smart phones, and I’m currently obsessed with Pandora. I can’t get enough of the sweet, sad, or just plain crazy stations I’ve set up in a matter of days. Driving to meet my husband at the lab this evening, I heard a singer/songwriter named Mason Jennings sing “Which Way Your Heart Will Go.”

The singer is watching his love watch life and reflecting on how, if things had gone the way he’d intended, life would be much less rich now…

Where would I be right now

If all my dreams had come true

Deep down I know somehow

I’d never have seen your face

This world would be a different place

Darling there’s no way to know

Which way your heart will go.

 

I started thinking back on two of my “great loves” before I met John, how I clung to them, and even the songs I associate with them. Hmmm, how to protect the innocent? I suppose I’ll just change their names…

Jake was the dangerous older guy–16 when I was 14, a wrestler, wearing crazy clothes (well, it was the early ’90s). With the passage of time, I’ve realized what a jerk he was half the time, but to my 14-year-old self, just being in love was the goal, you know? When my family had to move from IN to MO, I spent long hours in my room, crying and listening to Cheap Trick’s “The Flame.” I know, pretty goofy, but I really felt that they really understood my loss and the depth of my feeling. That song still stirs up emotion in me, at least the times when I don’t start laughing!

Eric and I were on-again, off-again throughout most of high school and into college. (I, in fact, met John because this friend was his roommate. But don’t worry, I didn’t date them at the same time.) This was a love that probably endured longer than it might have because of all the drama in my life and what at least looked to me like stability in his. His dad lived with him, for one thing, and the man really seemed interested in his children’s lives. And whenever things would get tough out there for one of us, we seemed to gravitate back toward each other, until one day, I realized the pain of severing our tie a final time was actually less than the pain of breaking up over and over. Still, if I hear Garth Brooks’s “The Dance,” my mind goes back to a day at a local park, dancing in the slowly-falling rain, hearing the song roll on the breeze from the car.

But I don’t for one minute pine away, wondering what might have been (another good song) with them. I truly believe God led John and I to meet. I’ve never met a more patient, loving person. I am amazed at how I was literally saved from one destructive relationship after another, brought out of a life of chasing “the one man who would love me enough to stay” after my Dad didn’t. If my teenage dreams had come true, I’d have missed out on John and on the life we’re building together.

Sure, I know I’ve been blogging about my stress at getting older and being unsure of when to start a family. And lying awake, trying to figure out how we’ll pay taxes, get into pension plans, have a baby at exactly the right moment. But I can’t think of a better person to walk with me through all this.

Twenty years ago, people would earnestly tell me, “Enjoy high school. These are the best years of your life.” And high school was pretty cool. I think it was something that helped me move toward who I am today. But I often reflect back on how cool everything SINCE high school has been. I loved my twenties, even when I couldn’t get a job at the outset. And my thirties seem to be shaping up well, despite the fact that I still deal with some of the same emotional issues I did 20 years ago. Do we ever really figure all this out?