Cleaning House

After a blissfully uneventful drive, I rode into Homer yesterday afternoon to find most of the snow cover gone, bright sunshine, and temperatures dropping rapidly as the huge, early-hanging moon approaches fullness.

What this meant in practical terms, as I knew, was that the path down to our cabin was a 40-yard sheet of the sheerest ice that runs right off the edge of the bluff if you don't choose to stop at the cabin door. It was twilight, so any water molecules were packing in tight for bed, and for maximum slickness. Even with the best ice cleats, nigh-crampons, I could barely stand up in certain places. The fact that I didn't fall on my butt multiple times says more about my good balance than about the conditions! Favorite moment: sliding the cooler, which weighed probably 40 or so pounds, all the way down the path, sometimes pulling it like a sled dog, sometimes gingerly steering it from behind as the musher, ready to yank back should it start to run away with me.

And then I got home. When my friend Lynn asked me what I was most looking forward to about getting home, my answer was "getting it cleaned up." It's not that I love to clean: the mess that is the cabin, especially with me having been gone for a week unexpectedly over the break, had really gotten on top of me. 
Mitigating circumstances: 
-Two somewhat clutter-tolerant people in a 16x20 cabin. 
-A dirt path to the cabin--dust and grime in the summer, sand and grit in the winter, dust all the time, all making their way in. 
-No running water since our pipes froze around Thanksgiving, so water always feels limited and hauling six-gallon jugs down above-mentioned ice-run is more arduous than rodeo.
-Even with no bathroom (or perhaps especially with no bathroom), things seem to get dirty faster than I can keep up.

With all those excuses, this person who is unashamed to confess to unpleasant habits is not comfortable showing a picture of the mess she walked in on.
I'd prefer to show a view from just north of Anchorage, one of the many vistas here that invite you to imagine going away, away, away into space forever opening.

 Just an example, though--"my space" where I typically work up at the counter. My space is the inevitable explosion of pens, papers, books, literary magazines, augmented by holiday cards, some of them unopened, unread, unwritten, unsent (yes, I missed the holidays). Additionally, a vial of homeopathic pills, a bottle of herbal supplement, four small pills in a white dish: a potent antipsychotic I'd pretended to take but hadn't taken in the place of no shoelaces. Two Styrofoam bowls from the same place 'just in case' for traveling (as if; they're going straight in the trash). Many many beautiful rocks, some of them donating sand--they don't all need to be right there. A mostly used-up aloe vera leaf. A mug-warmer. Various distractors-from-picking-myself-apart that I've been completely failing to use--my fluffy duster, my squishy lion, my worry beads. 
Add to this the fact that the whole mess spills over onto the floor, spills outward beyond "my space," that my space is commensurate with my dining space and, well, it just doesn't get better. And that's not even to mention all the other spaces--the floor, Phil's areas, the kitchen, the sleeping loft...

So here I am writing about it rather than cleaning up??
No, I'm sharing the situation, and inviting clarity and (self-)compassion to myself.
Storage space to tidy away is an issue; water for cleaning is an issue. We had started to semi-wash dishes to conserve water, I'd quit using my Vita-mix, had been fixing food that minimized water use and dishes. Many dry-cabin-dwellers do all these things, but to most people this is gross. 
Just like with my car, I want to facilitate openness and tidiness, space in which things may manifest; space to see what's already there. 

Space to see what's already there. Clean space that motivates getting all sweaty hauling lots of extra water so I can wash better, and going to the laundromat more often so I can change out my clothes more frequently, before they get stinky (please love me anyway).  
Cleaning beckons. 
These dolphins in the park in downtown Anchorage are pretty awesome.   

Homeward, Still Not Home

We're back in Anchorage, but still not home.

My apprehensiveness about being home remains beyond tangible to salient. All the way back to Odysseus, arrivals home and settlings in are even less smooth than the sailing that preceded. I know there awaits a veritable Odyssey--unpacking and dealing with reams of paperwork from two treatment centers and a writing program, taking care of the garden where slugs will be going gangbusters, getting my linguistics course into shape for the start of term, preparing for my mum's visit, writing and reading lots like I can't wait to do... Oh, and taking seriously my appointments and therapy sessions and meds; preparing meals, and otherwise maintaining my physical/mental/emotional health. Meds notwithstanding, low blood sugar and/or sleep deprivation in the evenings do seem to see me reliably monsterfied, and despite all my work and effort on communication these past few months, there are certain conversational ruts Phil and I get into that lead nowhere good. Awareness is the key, may it be so.

Right now, we're distracted by Phil's patienthood. His elbow was first cracked on ice then bashed on an outboard motor then slammed on an alder limb as another alder he was ripping out kicked back (doing his version of resting the arm)...and the kibosh delivered with a massive crushing bodyslam by his largest younger brother playing kickball at the farm a couple days ago. Torn tendon and who knows what else; surgery required. Depending on what we learn an hour from now, we may head home this afternoon or might stay in Anchorage a day or two more.

I have driven a car again--very briefly. I have touched a stove--just barely. I have done a few things for other people and, best of all, started to see our friends again. I still haven't taken a photograph or done any of normal-life things, but I'll be at one or other writers group within two weeks tops. I'll hope to post something about gardens and fresh produce next time.

What Can Pass, and What Is Needful

It may not be surprising that over the past few weeks of semi-participation in regular life, I've been thinking a lot about what is essential in life and what can come to seem essential but may not be.

For two months I have NOT:

• Driven a car--or ridden a bike.
• Taken a photograph. True fact! The camera was in storage while I was inpatient, and its battery fared better than the computer battery, but now I have it with me, and have seen many beautiful plants and interesting buildings and scenes worth recording, but I simply haven't wanted to use it.
• Talked on the phone, except to Phil, my parents, or healthcare professionals. We had long-distance calling while inpatient, but very little time to do it, and I was happy to write letters.
• Paid a bill.
• Used my Vitamix, or made or drank a smoothie (some more thoughts on this in a post soon). Or my dehydrator.
• Fixed food for other people
• Watched TV--but then I never watch TV
• Eaten spirulina or other green powders--and I survived!
• Seen a movie, except one or two documentaries we were shown as part of treatment
• Been obsessive about what is/is not organic and whether it's in the "dirty dozen" or not
• Weighed myself--ooh, except for one whoopsie time early on in this phase of the adventure
• Taken a beach hike
• Stayed up all night working (although there were nights at foie gras farm that I didn't sleep hardly at all).
• Weighed my food
• Sat in our cabin and looked out at the ocean
• Slept in our bed with Phil
• Planted herbs or vegetables
• Been to one of my writing groups
• Participated actively and assiduously and daily in the blogging community
• Bounced on my beloved rebounder. They don't want us to think about exercising, or to exercise much at all, but I like to imagine they would make an exception for this wonderful, relaxing, fun form of exercise that I miss so much.

Some of these things seem pretty sad absences; some of them may be husks, discarded skins or exoskeletons, to be left aside and grown out of; some may be growth opportunities, offering the realization

that life can continue without certain rigidly held lifelines. I can go without spirulina and chlorella; I can even go without many vegetables or much fruit, and I'm still here! I managed without clinging desperately to the internet, one more page, one more page making time pass and keeping me here. I'm still here. I even survived having to drink the nasty Ensure Plus, which lacks lactose and whey, but does have some dairy-derived protein. I'm still hacking it out, still feeling its effects, but I'm still here. Thank goodness I'm having coconut cream rather than Ensure here--when I resent having to drink it, I just remind myself of Ensure. 

Another thread that comes across is the tendency to be busy busy busy. In this in-between life right now, I'm looking for ways to remind myself to pay attention, take a breath, slow down; to focus on what is really needful. "What is needful" is a phrase from the King James Bible version of the story of Mary and Martha, where Mary simply sits at Jesus' feet, while Martha fusses around getting everything ready. Jesus says Mary's choice is "what is needful." 

Religion, Christianity in particular, was a big thing at foie gras farm, whereas at this treatment center it's practically taboo because of its potential for division. But scripture, not religion itself, is periodically very useful to me as a word-based reminder of what's important. Anything can be a talisman to call us back to the moment--more thoughts on this soon also.

Staying in the moment, my body is asking for a shower and soon, sleep, as we prepare to greet Monday morning and a new week.

The View From Here/Up For This Week

The View From Here

Things are in full swing of growth here. We have our first little pea on a pea plant! Here it is, on the right of the photo:

The flowers are so gorgeous also.

We're supposed to be getting the sun back later this week: had a little hint of it first thing this morning. It's funny for me to compare myself, here at the end of June, to how I was last year. Back then, still fresh from living in warm climates, by design, for many years, I was full of resentment that the best we could hope for in June was low-50's and maybe a few days in the 60's. I resented having to wear so many clothes all the time. I resented not being able to see the sun often. This time around, I'm much more accepting, accustomed to it (resigned?). If the plan is for us to live here for seven years, it's a far better prospect if I can feel good about it.

Here's a little herb composition: in the reused salad tray are my second planting of cilantro and basil (it's just too cold for basil here, though, even in the raised beds - I need to put them in small containers on a southfacing wall, I think). 

We had a great cilantro patch last year, though. But the feathery plant just beginning to flower at the bottom of the picture is a wild herb. Up here it's called pineapple weed or dogweed, and it's a wild chamomile - you can see how much it looks like chamomile! It's a very pernicious weed and we pull it out in quantities, but I'm wanting to allow a bunch to flower and then to harvest the flowers and use them like regular chamomile (according to local herbals, it has similar properties).

And up on the left are some raspberry leaves. Of course the berries are wonderful, but I harvest a lot of the leaves too, and dry them for the off-season. They make a wonderful tea for menstrual cramps that actually works. (I usually combine them with some licorice).

Up For This Week

I didn't post every day last week and I felt ok with that. Does it seem like a reasonable rhythm? I've decided that I'm going to quit making excuses and complaining about the fact that we don't have internet at home and how hard that makes everything, and seriously look into how I can change that situation. And until I can change it, I'm just going to accept that I'm not going to be able to get online every day. Or that sometimes, I'll get online with enough time to post a blog, or to comment on others' blogs, but not both.

To look forward to in here this week, though, as near as I can project, I have a book that I want to review, there's probably one more 'theme and variations' post to be made, and if I can pluck up the courage and find the right words to say it, I may also talk a bit at some point about my own relationship with food and body and how it's been changing and possibly improving recently. I've been loath to talk about it of late, but it's probably not a bad idea to acknowledge what is going on and invite the input of others too. Have a great week, everyone!

On the Other Side of the Glass/Different Perspectives on (your partner's) Detox/'Why do you need your Strength?'

I am going to lay out the different perspectives that Phil and I are experiencing on my current detox. I really hope that when I do this, I will receive help from the universe and also that it will be helpful for others to read.

I sincerely believe that Phil is concerned because he loves me, cares for me and wants the best for me: let that be said before anything else.

Phil sees that I went through a phase of expansiveness and permissiveness, allowed myself all kinds of things, and have now 'cut back' and thereby have reverted to my lifelong trap of austerity and renunciation, getting a reverse kick out of depriving myself and giving stuff up.

I see that I tried all of those everyday foods and felt unsatiated, crazy, in pain, bloated, and that all of those feelings increased that very deprivation tendency. Conversely, going back to raw foods happened 'by accident:' I never set a resolution or intention to do it: in fact, for over a year I hadn't even allowed myself to think  about it because I didn't think it fitted with Phil's lifestyle. Thus, I see it not as a 'cutting back' or a renunciation, but as finally, for once in my life, listening to my body! Not deprivation, but high-grading.

Phil sees that I have lost quite a bit of weight, and that I have days of intense fatigue and exhaustion, as well as a tendency toward anxiety. He knows that I'm a person who almost died of anorexia and still has body image issues. He thinks that I'm starving myself and wasting my muscles and nerves, hence jumpiness, and that I'm not going to be in shape for all the manic summer adventures.

I see that I am cleansing and detoxing, and really allowing myself the space and time to let that happen, really experiencing the concomitant exhaustion. Last week, I allowed my workload to pile up a little too much and got very anxious: I remind myself that deep cleansing really takes a lot of the body's energy and, in order to be strong in the long term, I have to let myself be weak now. However, I do also acknowledge that I've lost more weight than I expected to (without trying to at all), and think that this is hilariously ironic after those months last summer when I was trying to make myself live on fish and cottage cheese and spinach, _starving_ all the time and not seeming to lose weight very fast. At the moment, I feel very satiated for the most part. Phil compared my claim of satiation to the situation of the deer on Kodiak Island, who come down to the shore in the wintertime and fill their bellies with the seaweed, and have full bellies but end up starving to death. I have to disagree on that - even in this weak, cleansing mode, the contrast between my current satiation and the crazy craving feeling I was having before is just magical.

But Phil does have a point, and I need to confess to noticing that my avocado portion sizes have progressively shrunk, as have those of all the other more substantial foods I eat. His observation that I have a tendency to 'do without' if I can is a true one. When I was below 100lbs (which was for most of my 20s and up to age 31), it's true that I couldn't  ever seem to build stamina or muscle, frenetically active though I was and try though I might. I'm getting toward that point again and would prefer not to have to put myself in the position of 'needing to gain weight' because that is so triggering for me psychologically. 

For myself, I have to accept that this may happen before I'm through cleansing, and that it's going to occasion some alarm for my poor husband.

Phil sees that I'm depriving myself of treats, which he thinks everyone should have more of, and also of connection with other people through the shared pleasure.

I see that it's true that I had some fun eating chocolate (I even tried a bite of milk chocolate (bleck) - Phil is a snickers fiend) and drinking alcohol with friends, but look at the yeasty beasty consequences! I have to be glad for Phil that candy gives him so much pleasure and I have to believe that that being the case, trans fats notwithstanding, it won't do him harm (but this is so hard for me). But for me, the pleasure of the chocolate and alcohol was never simple, pure pleasure. I could always either feel negative reactions impending in my body or taste the underlying crappiness of the food. I can't let Phil kiss me when he's been eating peanut M&M's - it just smells so awful to me.

So, once again, he's right: the danger of my feeling cut off and judgmental is enormous. But I don't need to feel cut off because of the choices I make in order to feel my best! The judgment part is mostly based on fear, because I know how sick that stuff makes me feel and don't want it to be killing my loved ones slowly. But ever since I was a little kid and would throw up all day if I ate a breadcrumb, whereas all the other kids could eat plenty of bread without problems, I have had to acknowledge that the same food can act very differently in different bodies. Once again, I have to suspend judgment.

'Why Do You Want Your Strength Back?'

Last fall, as my strength went down and down and down, and I was feeling somewhat depressed and frustrated about it, one day a voice said to me that before I could have my strength back, I would need to achieve clarity about what I wanted it for. I've crashed and burned a few times before in my life after being super-active in someone else's rhythm. I'm not going to be allowed to repeat that cycle again.

This debate with Phil makes that question even more urgent, and also suggests some answers. Do these sound like some good things for which to want my strength back?

I want my strength back so that I can stay in my own integrity.

I want my strength back so that I can be flexible and accepting of others.

I want my strength back so that I have abundant energy to take care of my own needs, including treats, as well as cooking and baking for my family.

I want my strength back so that I can enjoy my relationship with Phil.

I want my strength back so that I can explore the out-of-doors, even in this harsh climate.

I want my strength back so that I can share of myself fully, both in person and through my writing.

I want my strength back so that I can fully relax!

Both of us are very open to advice - words of wisdom will be listened to and appreciated.

On the Other Side of the Glass/Different Perspectives on (your partner's) Detox/My Failed Attempt at Self-Transformation

More posts about the energy bars are coming! But today I feel that I need to write about some more personal stuff, to open my soul and strive for clarity through revelation, hope for good advice from kindred spirits and also hope that my own experiences may be of help to others. It's probably going to take two posts to say what I have to say conveniently.

Many people who change their diets are familiar with the social acceptance issues that this can provoke. The person who changes has their own part in this, in terms of avoiding becoming obsessive or judgmental whilst preserving their integrity. Their loved ones and family members also have the challenge of acceptance and understanding. There are so many differences between Phil's and my choices, constantly requiring our mutual acceptance and understanding: in many ways it seems like we inhabit parallel but different universes! And right now, marvelously accepting and understanding though Phil is, the intense cleansing process I'm going through, together with the prognosis of remaining on a low-glycemic raw diet, are difficult because of this difference in world-view. 

Here's some back-story to explain why I think that the groundwork I laid made this even harder.

'A Vane Blown with All Winds'

I own the mixed blessing of being ridiculously flexible in the ability to see all perspectives, to the point that I don't hold my own ground but allow myself to be, as Shakespeare would say, 'a vane blown with all winds.' Especially if I admire someone, I'm very likely to emulate them.

Well, I admire Phil tremendously! Apart from being extremely loving, funny and intelligent, he is, simply put, superman. He thinks nothing of working hard chainsawing all morning and then going for a 15 mile hike in the afternoon just for relaxation. He's been farther out in the most inhospitable wilds than anyone I know, just roaring along covering decades of miles per day on foot, just because he has so much energy. In the huge blizzard a couple of weeks ago, on one of the worse wind days he ski'd in the morning and climbed down our bluff to hike along the beach to town in the afternoon. I met him in town and had a hard time walking just a few hundred yards, the wind was so strong and icy! Oh, and did I mention, he's 61?!

On top of all this, he eats for fuel (can easily make a plate of meat and potatoes disappear when I've barely taken two bites of my salad, and be ready to run out again, whereas I feel better letting things digest for a while) and especially, for pleasure. If he feels like it, he'll take care of the whole pan of brownies at a sitting, or eat ice cream by the quart although he knows it's bad for him and makes him mucusy. Although he loves plants and herbs and is willing to put anything in his mouth in terms of wildcrafting experiments, his preferred tastes really are sugar and salt. And in terms of fuel, meat and bread are at the center.

When we got together, I had been vegetarian basically my whole life and raw for a half dozen years, and was just experimenting with raw animal products. I was also just beginning to build significant strength, which it's always been hard for me to do, and which I wanted very badly. I had also just been doing my own diabolical 'supersize me' experiment with the 'Primal Diet,' which is another story I could tell if there's interest, and thought I had some weight to lose. 

The Dangers of Being Married to Superman

So, I admired him so much and wanted so much to fit in with his life, and until my body simply wouldn't let me do it anymore, I set it as a rule for myself that I had to do as he did, in terms of physical output. Somehow, I thought that  if he's still (at the time) pushing 60 and going strong, and his diet and attitude worked for him to make such a dynamic phenomenon, I could convert myself to be the same.  So, if we'd been hiking all day and then he wanted to launch the boat from our campsite and row it around a bit, I had to go too, instead of finally relaxing. He never wanted me to be like this, and it was torture to make myself do it That recent blizzard day when I didn't join him brought home to me how glad I am that I removed that rule from myself!

As for adjusting to his food beliefs, he has such a cast-iron constitution and, it should be added, such a successful 'pleasure' approach that, whilst he acknowledges that what we eat does have some effect on our health, he has little patience for 'faddism,' doesn't really believe that there's danger from toxins/pesticide residues, etc, and dislikes the tendency to obsessiveness/judgment/exclusivism that tends to accompany special diets. 

I couldn't possibly eat the way he does (if only because of the gluten) but for the first year or so that we were together, I tried to at least make my diet a subset of his. I quit paying so much attention to rawfood considerations, lost touch with rawfood acquaintances, educated myself about meat and fish, started eating cooked food - and there were some good parts to that. There were enjoyable times: I love to cook! I also tried to allow myself to be a little more pleasure-oriented, and especially, to be able to feed myself pleasurably no matter where we were: I conceived a guilt complex for having had 'special needs' and forbad myself to make my own 'special foods.'

Constant cravings were a totally new thing for me, as well as feelings of deprivation. This was a 'detox' of its own: a lot of repressed cravings and deprivation from the anorexic and then fruitarian days, unacknowledged and now clamoring for attention.

Unfortunately, as my digestion worsened and my frustration continued as the 'supersize me' weight dissipated only slowly, this led to my buying all kinds of 'special' diet bars, etc, instead of making my own, which only helped me to feel worse. Worse here means weaker, increasingly depressed, moods out of control.

I quit all that, as well as dairy (which I'd re-experimented with), which made things much better emotionally, and was eating mostly steamed vegetables and a little meat and fish. But even then, even taking strong digestive enzymes, I had intense stomach pain every time I ate. Now, eating no meat, raw salads, nuts, algae, I'm usually pain free! It is such a relief! 

Back to being deviant...

But it is so painful too, because of its divisiveness and because it puts paid to my eating solely local foods. I really did try to make myself successfully 'locavore' (fish and game, with seasonal plant matter) here in Alaska. 

And I really did try to eat more like everyone else. Those are the two dilemmas. The first, locavorism, is about abundance, which has been a life-long issue for me to work on, while the second is about social acceptance, which I scorned in as a food-choice-based issue for a long time but which actually does count for something. 

I really believe in self-transformation, and that we can perceive this life and universe through any of a myriad prisms of perspective. And I really believed that I could transform myself into engaging with it like Phil does, specifically in the realms of activity output and insouciance about food input. I'm trying not to view this as a failure but rather as a recognition that in this regard, we are on different paths. Trying to turn myself into Phil was not ultimately going to serve me on my path, and therefore probably wasn't even the best thing for our relationship. It's back to the Serenity Prayer and 'the wisdom to know the difference' (between what I can and cannot change).

In the next section, I'll talk about the deeper dangers and concerns over this deviant diet of mine in Phil's and my different paradigms, since that's the troublous thing at the moment. And I'm afraid that my 'feet first' attempt to completely remake myself as described above probably makes my current habits seem even more outlandish and hard to accept.