Last Post; Parting Gifts

I'm sorry, that's a macabre pun, in British, at least. "Last Post" is the tune military bands play to honor the war dead. I'm at the Anchorage library wrapping up some editing jobs by the skin of my teeth, sending all-too-rough work for our MFA residency workshops in August prematurely, perforce; and taking a moment to give this beloved corner of my world some attention. 


Rather than focus on "last", I want to focus on gifts. So many gifts of loving words, thoughts, prayers, promises to write me, expressions of appreciation for my existence. So much treasure. I'm semi-consciously storing it up for the hard work to come, acutely aware that at this moment, I can barely take it in. Since my ticket was booked (only last Friday!), my busyness level has accelerated almost beyond what it was at semester's end, and I was ready to crash back then. So naturally, caffeine is back in the equation, sleep is largely gone, food intake likewise. But this time tomorrow, all the busyness will have been set aside and I'll be focused, full-time initially, on my health situation. I'll finally be facing how serious everyone says it is. And then, the gifts will sustain me.


Some non-verbal gifts also: I'm so happy to have seen Homer's first farmers' market of the year on Saturday. It's somewhat of a craft fair too, and one of our favorite artists was there in the rain. Scott Miller creates "wooden diamonds"--pendants made from salvaged wood, oyster and mussel shells, silver and other metals, and other salvaged, donated or scavenged items. Every 'diamond' is unique. Phil wanted to get me one as a parting gift, and I chose this one (which would have been his choice too, it turns out): 

Waterfall, as if from a bluff like ours; a tree; stars. It's so beautiful, so me, so expressive of our home. 
In the photo, it's sitting on a gorgeous blank journal another friend gifted me--always a perfect gift for me, and in my color too. Here it is again, below left, together with books given, loaned, or recommended me by writer friends.

I am taking good companions on my way with me. I'll stop there--I don't have a lot more to say, as I venture into the unknown. Except, what gift can I leave? The promise of more words, more love; the insight that life itself is a gift, although its time is beyond our control.

I will miss this blog, and all of you, so much. I promise I'll update when I can.
Much love,
Ela

The Difficult, and Small Bites Recipes (The Easy)

 

Today I will share the recipes for the "small bites" I featured in my previous post. They're all really easy--they're basic put these ingredients in the food processor with the S-blade and process into a dough, chill a little, cut or break into pieces, done-type recipes.

But I will also share a bit more of the difficult time I'm having lately, which I hinted at in Monday's post without really going into detail. The HAWMC experience throughout April was very beneficial for me in encouraging me to write more about the hard, personal stuff. I've backed away from that a little since then because I haven't wanted to worry people. But it's been a process and a story since, and stories are always good.

"Exploring Options"--what I really meant

That's what I said we were doing on Monday. That was a euphemism for this: my Naturopath, my therapist, another doctor I started seeing, and my bloodwork all say I need to go away to a treatment center. I don't want to go. There are none in Alaska. It feels like I've spent this whole week on the phone exploring options, having doors closed. Getting myself into a space to accept one disruptive plan, only to be told that won't work, contemplating another, with the same result. 

Our insurance won't cover "residential" treatment; only inpatient or outpatient. The program my therapist thinks is ideal has residential and outpatient only--great, so we explore outpatient and I get to keep some autonomy. My Naturopath (he who's had the most experience having me come into his office unslept/unmedicated/psychotic/crying/furious/otherwise noncompliant and crazed) thinks I shouldn't go outpatient, need to be in a more full-time, structured environment.

Add to that my gluten and dairy and soy allergies and non-meat-eating habitude, and many treatment centers won't even look at me. And what is up with that? A treatment center with a focus, among other things, on food issues, won't cater to patients with food allergies?

My Naturopath says treatment centers make it hard to get into them intentionally, so that the patient has to prove she wants to come in. Phil suggested it was just that they're inundated with people trying to get in, so they rule out whomever they can to narrow down the numbers. Since I don't want to come in, it's going to be tough for me to convince them that I do. Meanwhile, I continue not to believe that I'm in any physical danger, to push for agreement that I can stay here. And I continue not to get that.

But my Naturopath said something today that scared me. He warned me that this could start to affect my cognitive functioning and my writing. I already have some short-term memory lapses, which are not me at all, and I have to make sure to take my algae oil DHA capsules (disgusting though they taste) or my brain doesn't work. I have chest pain sometimes, and disorientating tinnitus, but both those can be chalked up to anxiety.

A friend was in the emergency room yesterday afternoon. Two other friends have had serious health scares recently. I was able to help out my friend in the ER, bring her necessities, take her home, take care of her, etc--does it sound like I'm a person in serious trouble? I don't think so. These people are having serious medical emergency issues, and folks are worried about me just because I lost a bit more weight than I intended to? I feel stupid and ashamed and self-indulgent and like I should have known better, like my damaged thyroid and other organs should have been a warning to know when to stop. 

I still can't stop.

Small Bites--The Easy! 

On a more cheerful note, I will share the recipe for the apricot kernel bites, with the strong suggestion not to use the apricot kernels but almonds instead!

Almondy Apricot Bites
Ingredients:
8 Apricot kernels (these made me sick--if you think they might make you sick, please use almonds instead!)
Scant half cup (33g) shredded coconut
Scant cup (270g) unsulphured dried apricots
1/4 cup (50g) carob powder
1/8 cup (25g) chia meal (chia seeds ground in coffee grinder or Vitamix)
1 tablespoon spirulina 
1/3 cup (60g) dry dates
1 teaspoon almond extract


Process all into a dough. I processed the apricot kernels on their own, then added the apricots, then everything else.


If you cut into 30 pieces, they're 31 calories each.
I don't know what I'm going to do with these! How ironic that the first time I make myself some treats, they make me sick! And everything else in there is so good--spirulina/chia/carob is a wonderful combination. I'm afraid to give them to anyone else in case they have the same reaction as I do. But it might be just me.


Since I love dried apricots so much, I made another apricot-based 'bite' that might be even better. This one has protein from the hemp, mojo-boost from the maca, and a couple purple surprises.

Scant cup (110g) unsulphured dried apricots
1/4 cup (30g) hemp protein and fiber powder
scant 1/2 cup (33g) shredded coconut
1 T maca
1/3 cup (60g) dry dates
small handful hibiscus flowers, ground in a Vitamix or coffee grinder
small handful dulse, snipped into pieces


Process into a dough. 
If you cut into 30 pieces, they're 24 calories each.


The slight hint of saltiness from the dulse and the tart almost citrusy flavor of the hibiscus are so special in here. You can't really see the little flecks of purple in the photo, but they make it very visually appealing too. I'm almost sorry I haven't given these a post of their own--they're quite special!


Finally, my take on Nicole's Fudgy Chocolate Chews 

I didn't tweak Nicole's recipe much, as raisins and chocolate are a wonderful thing and I wanted to start simple. Here's what I did:
1 cup raisins
2 T chia meal
1 T carob
1 T cacao nibs
1 t spirulina
1 t coconut butter


In the food processor unto dough! This one's much wetter than the other two, so I spread the whole thing out flat and froze it for a bit, but ended up rolling into balls rather than cutting into pieces.


If you make 30 pieces out of it, they're 18 calories each.


And now, I need to go--a phone call from another treatment center, and I've almost effectively skipped lunch, so should do something about that...(And why am I making and taking all these calls when I so don't want to go?)

The Bitter and the Sweet (Fifty First Weeks)

The whole "Fifty First Weeks" idea was aimed at the potential to start over, channel amnesia, discard mistakes, make fresh starts. At the moment, the "fresh start" idea is beleaguered. Every day that I act a certain way, I'm scoring an ever-deeper groove in the mire, and the soil I displace pushes up on either side of that groove, creating walls that block any deviation.


Term's over, pressure's off, but things are not easy here. There has been some sweetness too, though, so let me start with that before I get to the bitter part.

The Sweet

Mother's Day brunch yesterday, and Leslie has chicks!

Lots of chicks. And they are adorable. Not tiny now,  and their personalities are starting to come out. Chickens are so much fun...It made me nostalgic for Hawaii.


Getting right into the spirit, both Leslie and Roxy have chicken outfits--super sweet (and silly)! 

And as for a sweet taste on the tongue, here's something I brought to the brunch.

These are black abada dates and barhi dates, each stuffed with a very quick raw vegan sugar free marzipan filling! 
Medjools are the only dates in the stores up here (except for the occasional pitted deglets, which are steamed, so I don't buy them--a shame, as I love deglets). I've mentioned before that I don't care for medjools--they're the modern-day-agricultural version of dates, super big, super sweet, less minerals, more sugar. So, when I saw that Shields Date Garden was having a sale on some of my favorite varieties of heritage dates, I went overboard and ordered up fifteen pounds of each! That should last a couple years...


Barhis were everyone's favorite in the raw food community in CA when I lived there, and were very hard to get because they always sold out so fast. What a treat to have an abundance of them. Abadas--I love how they're black and shiny--anything that color must be high in minerals. Abada is the name of a branch of my family, so I feel even more connected with them.


And how did I make that marzipan stuffing, you ask? Easy--
2 tablespoons raw almond butter, softened
1 tablespoon raw coconut butter, softened
1/2 tablespoon almond extract
1 tablespoon powdered xylitol


Stir all together and stuff into pitted dates!


Given my excitement to share these wonderful less-usual varieties of date, it took the wind out of my sails a bit when pretty much everyone at the party said they preferred medjools. I wish my moral judgment against medjools as agriculturally processed/demineralized/oversized/oversugared didn't interfere with my reception of other people's taste preferences--I try not to let it do so. Mostly, I was disappointed that everyone else wasn't as excited as I was about the other varieties of date! But medjools are the prototypical, generic date for most Americans, so I shouldn't have been surprised at the reaction of "Dates? Medjools!"


Whoa there, a little bitterness creeping into the sweet section!
I guess I'll call it a transition...

The Bitter

My Facebook status update on Friday:

Ela Harrison Gordon

Friday

Teaching-done. MFA coursework-done. RWW thesis editing-done. And now three different experts and my bloodwork say time to cash in. No way! Not NOW!!

Perhaps that sounds playful, as several people "liked" my status. But things are not easy here. The huge pressure of work of the last months has lifted, but I have a mountain to climb. I went into my naturopath appointment on Friday angry at all the drama and scaremongering people were doing about my health status. 

My naturopath, whom I love and trust, and was expecting to back me up that there was no need for the drama, had my bloodwork in his hand, and told me he was sorry, but he agreed with everyone else.

I feel like the elephant in the room.

So, now what? 

Remember my turmeric root I posted about?

Here's what it looks like today.

Since I've even written a poem comparing my shriveling to that of the turmeric root, this is poignant indeed. And sadly predictable.


I'm on my third day off caffeine, though, trucking through the headache and the unmasked fatigue. That's a good thing. 
We're "exploring options," but I'm facing having to miss out on a lot of things I'd rather be here for--in order that I may be here long term, they say. I still don't think the situation is that serious. They say that's part of why it is serious. Bitter, bitter.

Gone TOo Far--Can I Turn Things Back Around? HAWMC

Today is "Stream of Consciousness Day." My first thought--"What? Stream of consciousness on my public blog?" WEGO explain that they're making precisely that challenge--that we put ourselves out there, raw, uncensored, unedited, unexpurgated subconscious thoughts and preoccupations. Their challenge: "Start with the phrase, "Today I looked in the mirror and..."--fifteen minute stream of consciousness.


OK--that's the prompt--I'm game, but afraid it'll be a stream of self-consciousness. I also worry about narcissism inherent in such a prompt, but perhaps there's something potentially narcissistic about a blog in the first place. They do say only fifteen minutes, so at least it'll be short(!) Here goes...

Today I looked in the mirror and saw dark circles under my eyes, hollow cheeks. It's nearly the end of the semester, I just have to push through a little more. I've re-established sleep at nights and taking of medications. I think I'm keeping up appearances really well: I can't imagine that any of my friends and acquaintances think anything's amiss at all.

But in truth, I'm fading.

Conversations with my husband in which he expresses deep concern about how busy I am, how little time I have to do any of the things we like to do together, how I'm not taking good enough care of myself, are becoming more frequent and more intense. This morning, he returned from a breakfast date with a friend and informed me he's ashamed of me. Ashamed that when the friend asked after me, he couldn't say I was doing well. Ashamed that my healthcare professionals are seriously concerned about me to the point that if things haven't changed within three weeks I won't be able to stay at home.

It hurts to be told that your husband is ashamed of you! It also feels kind of remote, because I'm in such a tunnel of work to be done. I know I'm running a little ragged and go a little--ok, a lot--crazy at times... But can't me being ashamed of that be enough?

The truth is, I have to acknowledge I've gone too far. In my Superpower post last week, I boasted of my minimal needs for fuel and mentioned that lately I'd been eating even less than my minimal norm. I've gotten habituated to 300 calories a day. Aside from some fatigue in the aftermath of last week's 'flu, my energy has remained fantastic, which makes it hard to understand that this isn't a good situation. The issue isn't even weight loss, although it is true my clothes are falling off of me--even with my superpower-efficient metabolism, it's a strain on my heart to be required to get so many miles to the gallon.

So, I confess--I've gone too far. And while my continued freedom makes status quo seem enticing, makes it harder to believe that this is a crisis point, said continued freedom is conditional on my keeping to a contract with my Naturopath to turn this train around and gradually, incrementally, increase the amount of fuel put in the tank.

And I can temper my incredulity that I'm in a dangerous situation, when I'm keeping up appearances so well and nobody around me has any idea about it, with the consideration that perhaps there are people around me quietly having crises to which I'm oblivious myself!

Let's all take care of each other, guys. 

What's in YOUR stream of consciousness today?