Tag Archives: food

Spiritual Self Abuse?

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A lot of veterans with PTSD can’t stop watching war movies.  It is very common for people with PTSD to have trouble avoiding media that involves the subject of their trauma.  If I see a documentary on cults or religion or bible history, I will watch it obsessively.  I can’t watch movies like “Passion of the Christ” because I can’t watch violence without becoming seriously upset inside for hours.  So, I generally stick to documentaries, etc.

This is compulsive behavior for me, and since I got dealt OCD from my PTSD and have been living in a lot of stress with a new job and no stuff…  It’s been acting up.  Like my eating disorder and trichotillomania (2 not 1 for those keeping track at home) have been acting up.  I’ve been really angry for this mess of wiring in my head, and I’m still hunting for a good fit in a therapist.

“Well, you’re in the Bible belt”, is something I hear a lot at work.  And I need to learn to not let my compulsions out of my mouth via words at work.  Because one of the most successful industries here is the “church industry”, and I have been tasked with a project involving the “church industry”.  I could have turned it down in the beginning, but I didn’t want to and I was so intrigued.  But it would have been the most self-loving thing to do.

While working on this project, it’s brought a lot of churchy energy around me.  People see me working with media and iconography.  I am really into it, because I am marketing to churches and I can’t wait to see if it works.  I am so fascinated by this challenge, you know and nauseated.  People come into my work space and talk and then they talk to me about their faith.  I should probably put up some kind of boundary, but I don’t because I am sickly fascinated by how every one of them has translated and integrated a book differently.  It’s so interesting.

Yesterday was a hard day though.  I got whistled at in the hall.  I believe this was meant as a compliment.  I almost lost my shit.  To me it feels like.  Don’t forget that someone is always watching you.  Even when you think you are alone in a hallway, someone is watching you and sexualizing you.  Don’t forget you are never safe.  I told my coworker and he said that was an awesome compliment and he wishes he would get whistled at.  So that sucked.  Yesterday when this coworker said, “well you’re in the Bible belt…”  I told him that I never wanted suspenders so bad.

Then when wrapping up phase 1 of my project (yay I get a break!!!).  Someone was talking to me about their beliefs and it was ok.  He’s an animated talker.  I was sitting, he was standing.  He was talking about how people think that god the father will punish us forever in hell.  Then he said, “would a father punish a child forever?”  When he said that he was moving his arm for dramatic effect, his arm was over my head and I was looking up.  This had the effect of making me very small feeling.  His arm was coming down repeatedly (like ten times) and his hand was in the exactly grip that Pastor’s was when he was holding the PVC pipe.

I didn’t cry.

I talked to him about his loving views.  He smiled and went away.  Defense systems passed the test and all was well.  I came home about 5 hours later and lost my shit.  It was a bad day at work.  I didn’t want to go to bed, because we can’t sleep together and I really wanted to snuggle up.  So I’m up after 4.5 hours sleep ready to bang out the last day of the work week.  Tired, fragile.

weight loss photos

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I hate the pre weight loss pictures.  They are unflattering.  Horrible poses.  Terrible lighting.   No personality.  Some people can be overweight and happy.  Dress in ways that are flattering or at least not boring and have fun.  This country equates fat with unlovable.

The post weight loss pictures always have a make over, better clothes, better lighting.  Whatever.

I call bullshit.  You are lovable if you goldang say so.  If you can love others.

So, here are some of my before photos.  But what is brewing in my head, is something different.  I think since I want to incorporate my love of dance and movement.  I think I want to post occasional videos of me moving and dancing.  Because I think it’s important to see attitude, spirit, soul.  And I’ve had that even when I was at my biggest at 265.

 

Age 14, weigh unknown - was a dance teacher and dancing competitively

Age 14, weigh unknown - was a dance teacher and dancing competitively

 

35th Birthday, about to get my present

35th Birthday, about to get my present

 

35, New Years

35, New Years

 

 

 

Weight as of this AM:  215

missed

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I think about space.  There are times that I’ve left people and places to hunker down and evaluate.  To heal.  When I left the church and my family at 17, I missed them but knew it was what I had to do for my safety and well being.

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

I’ve had very little parental contact and we’ve always had so much love, but we don’t know how to be around each other.  They didn’t get along with my partner and side with the the bible when it comes to homosexuality.  And as a result, they missed out on most of the sweetness of my twenties.

We are learning to be around each other again and it’s mostly wonderful.  There are some painful moments, but I think a lot of the eggshells are gone.  It helps that they really like E.  I don’t want them missing out on any more of the sweetness in my life.  It’s pretty interesting how well he fits in at that dinner table.

He seems to be more comfortable than I am sometimes.  Take Christmas for example…  We had a lovely dinner cooked by mom.  And some pie for dessert.  Somehow and I don’t know how…  But my arm lifted up and grabbed the whipped cream canister and just took a slug of nitrous right there at the Christmas table in front of the baby Jesus and everyone.

E stared at me and said, “Really, Feisty!”  You should have seen the look on my dad’s face.  I was shocked but giggling in disbelief.  I’ve had exorcisms, but I swear this time I was actually possessed.  My mom didn’t see it, but when dad told her what happened she asked how to do it and almost put the whipped cream canister up her nose.

I don’t know what that was about.  I was sober.  Not a drop of booze in me.  I think my pissed off 17 year old needed to act out and reached through me.  And it was horrible and hysterical.  I’m still mortified.  Seriously, wtf?

Is this what healing looks like?

Project Hotness Update

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version 2…

version 2.5…

I don’t know.

Project hotness has many arms.  It’s not just about my physical appearance.  It’s about my health.  I hear things from my doctor that sound like, now that you’re 35, you have to watch your (blah blah something or other).

So, I started and then seriously fell off the wagon.  I’ve been going to a lot of therapy and discussing my eating disorder, and my meds have been changed so that the chemistry set that is my body is doing stuff chemically.  I’ve also started accupunture to work on the chronic anxiety and imbalances.  Right now I’ve got needle nubs in my ears that I can press up to 5 times a day for 5 seconds.  I’ve had two shamanic healing sessions that have helped me focus and get clarity and have also helped with the crippling anxiety.  I’m not supposed to wash me ears.  ew.  I’ve got a new eating and exercise plan that E and I start tomorrow. 

So, I did what people who want to lose weight and get healthier do the night before they start.  I ate too much and I feel icky.  Tomorrow we start the plan and it’s my goal to keep to it.  I’ve got a lot of weight to lose.

Wish me luck, cause I’m scared and feeling feelings.

eating disorders, psychics, and higher powers

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It’s not sexy to have an eating disorder, but I’ve got one.  Mine is called Binge Eating Disorder and has also been called compulsive overeating.  I have been on every diet.  And can’t keep to them.  It’s not just food, it’s a compulsion.  I’m thinking about what to eat or how big I am or how small I am or how I shouldn’t have eaten what I just ate or fuck it I’ll eat it anyway.

I have theories about this:

  • childhood abuse-food was comfort
  • childhood abuse-food was controlled and now I control it so I’m gonna have all of it.
  • childhood abuse-forced fasting
  • childhood abuse-forced eating on a timeline, with punishments for failing
  • nurture-no sense of a healthy portion
  • PTSD-as a dissociative, eating until numb
  • me-maybe I just suck and am fat
  • nurture-more food=more love or more worth

Whatever the cause, it’s mine to deal with now.  And I am, every second of every day.  I topped the scales at 265 several years ago.  I worked my ass off to get down to 180.  Now since I’ve been working on other parts of my heart and soul, my body has snuck up to 217.  This is horrible to me and I’ve been really depressed about it for a long time.  I have few things I can wear at this size, and every morning I feel faced with that sense of dread and failure.

When I owned a business, I learned that everything that was posted publicly and incentivized improved.  So, I am going to make very public my weight struggle.  There are lots of reasons behind it.  The eating disorder is very wrapped up in my recovery from spiritual abuse.  And the healthier I am, the more emotionally healthy I am.  Also, there are a lot of sisters and brothers out there who struggle from similar issues.  When I owned a business in Sacramento, it’s amazing the things that people confided in me.  I have and will keep those things confidential.  But I have no worries that I am alone in this battle.

I went to a dance battle in Oakland with my friend A a few weeks ago and there was a street fair going on as well.  They were offering $5 psychic readings.  I got one.  When she looked at my aura she giggled, she said it was large, strong and gold and it had speckles like fuchsia confetti in it.  (Sounds like something I would wear).  I asked her how I am going to heal my issues around food.  And she told me that I was born into my family to end the cycle of victim-hood.  That growing up, my food was mixed with punishment and shame.  She said that there is a lot of religious punishment weighing me down and that I need to work through that.  Every morning and evening take a few moments to meditate on how I want to be with my food that day and night.

Which leads me to 12-stepping.  I went to over-eaters anonymous for a long time and it doesn’t work for me. I feel weird saying that out loud.  But 12-stepping doesn’t work for everyone.  I had a lot of success, but ultimately had to stop for my sanity.  I lost 85 pounds in that program.  It’s a wonderful program for lots of people who aren’t me.  I have god issues.  They said I could use any higher power, but I can’t make up a higher power, that’s weird and in my heart I am still a fundamentalist in many ways.  Also some of the 12 step work requires you to read a moral inventory of your life to someone.  I did that and it was highly traumatic.  One thing that I got out of that program was the healing power of journaling.  That has served me well.  But the sharing and the confessing didn’t work.  My therapist said that makes sense because of the forced confession in my church when I was growing up.

So, I am looking for a new way to deal with this old problem of mine.  I am looking at journaling (here and now), a holistic program, and my therapy.  So, we’ll see how this goes.  Project Hotness is going to be more of the stats involved and what I’m doing.

Wish me luck!

Feisty

A few years ago. Me at 180 lbs, kissing my best friend's head

A few years ago. Me at 180 lbs, kissing my best friend's head

Me at 217 on my 35th bday.

Me at 217 on my 35th bday.

not dead yet

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I am now 12,783 days old. I made it past 34. I am now living beyond expectations. Recurring nightmares always told me that I would drown at 34.

So what is there to do with my 35th year? I have my own ideas. Darshana told me that the first 17 years would be repaying the karma of my past. She told me the second 17 years would be healing from it. Darshana then told me that I was one of the few who could truly write their own ticket cosmically. Those years have been lived and I definitely feel reborn.

So, I am. Let’s take this baby out on the road and see how it corners…

I have made several new life resolutions.

1. My shortened view of my lifespan has been one of the many reasons why I haven’t taken as much care of my corporeal temple as I should have. So, I am going to be a lot more physically focused and will be writing about the emotional and spiritual issues that brings up. The effect of this is that I am launching “Project Hotness”. I have no doubt of my hotness on a lot of levels, however I want to get a whole lot more in shape. The last year and a half have been so much in my head and heart that my body needs attention and to catch up.

2. I am declaring my nervous breakdown breakthrough over. I will do some kind of personal ceremony to celebrate my rebirth.

3. While I have an amazing business idea, and an executive summary I will balance that with all of the ssshhhh I need. I miss professionally kicking ass, but I can no longer do it at the expense of all of the other passions of my life.

4. I will boldly looking at my addictions of food, alcohol and work. This is scary and I am ready.

Sure this is a lot. It’s been brewing for a long time, and I have done a lot of foundational work. And its time to move forward.

PS. I bought a green dress for me on my 35th birthday. It looks awful on me, I’m taking it back. Isn’t life funny?

whack a mole

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There’s this business I want to start.  It’s revolutionary.  It’s amazing.

There’s this diet I want to start, and it’s got a great exercise plan.

There’s this art I want to create I just need to make the time.

There’s this friend I need to call, but sometimes my PTSD won’t let me pick up the phone.

I need to unpack more.

There’s this trip I want to take, and I need to figure out the logistics.

I have the crazies!  I have been intense and hyper vigilant all day.  Twitching, nervous.  Holy crap, there’s too much to do.  And it all needs to be done now and everything is slowing me down and there are 30 step one’s.  And I seem to be breaking things.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder+Premenstrual Syndrome=Kill me now, pretty please!

twitcha

twitcha

twitcha

(I never promised this blog would be pretty.)

cost of a life lesson is one dollar and eighty seven cents

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I make breakfast in a very precisely-timed fashion.  I try to make it so that all parts are done at the same time.  Meal timing amuses me.  It’s a fun puzzle to get everything finished all together.  I get in this autopilot mode.  I feel like a Rube Goldberg device.  Until it goes wrong…

We have an ultra awesome snobby low tech groovy coffee vacuum press thing.  Last week I was sick and off my breakfast game.  I was pressing one cup of coffee,  I stirred it and waited for the vacuum to suck.  I flipped eggs and popped the bagel into the toaster.  Our toaster can be a little sketchy (especially since the frosting incident).   Back to the coffee-add more water.

The bagel pops up and it’s burnt.  Damn, I throw it away.  Put another bagel in.  I hate wasting food.  Add black beans to the eggs. Empty grounds out and start next cup of coffee.  Get goat cheese read to go on eggs, green onions and black beans.  Bagel pops up burnt.  I was trying to do the rhythm differently so they didn’t burn but they did.

I felt dumb.  E walks in and I say I burned two bagels.  He turns down the toast setting on the toaster and gives me a kiss on the cheek and grabs his coffee and walks out.  I boggle.

Isn’t it funny that I thought that I was the problem?  I tried to change my rhythms.  I must be wrong.  I am toasting wrong.  Didn’t even occur to me to look outside of myself at the device and see if it needed adjusting.  I frequently try to alter myself to a situation to make it go ok.  I do it a lot less than I used to since I turned in my resignation for being the stage manager of the world.

But it’s my first impulse-what needs to change about me to make everything else ok.  If only I could be better than everything would be ok for everybody.

I burned two bagels and wasted $1.87.  But the price was well worth the reminder.

In the kitchen with FeistyBoots

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This bloggy has been a bit on the heavy side. The good news is that I am working through a ton of stuff. The bad news is, well, the same. So, I think it’s time to share a little of the joy of my life and I thought we should do a cooking segment today!

Each summer I get a bee in my bonnet to perfect a dish. A few years back, I wanted to make the perfect dessert wonton. And after much experimentation found that a blueberry/banana wonton fried and then dusted with powdered sugar was pure heaven. Then the next year I wanted to make the perfect sorbet. After a great deal of trial and delicious error, the winner was peach (fresh from the farmer’s market) and amaretto sorbet. Amazing.

The summer, I am not motivated toward a dessert. I had a mediocre Italian dinner at a mediocre Italian restaurant. And I told E that I could make better meatballs than this. And I have been trying. Meatballs are more complicated than they look. I made some with beef and sage to make them lighter. I used too much sage, so I named them Tiresias balls.

I’ve been thinking of other nationalities, so I decided to make Indian. I was going to make it with ground turkey, and I had a spinach saag sauce to cook them in. Yes, I got it from Whole Foods and I would feel bad about using it if I was working on sauces, but I’m not. I’m focusing on balls. The following is a stream of consciousness blog so you can know what it’s like to cook with me.

So, I have all of my ingredients:
Latex gloves (cause I don’t like to touch the raw meat when I’m squooshing it)
Ground turkey
1 egg (beaten)
Curry
Tumeric
Onion (puréed so that it will mix in with the meat)
Garlic

I get the mixing bowl. I add everything together and squoosh it around. It’s really wet. After kneading the meat I can’t form a cohesive ball. Oh crap, I forgot bread crumbs. So, I yell to E to please come in the kitchen and find bread or breadcrumbs. He says, he’ll be right there cause he’s doing homework. I wait. Turkey is dripping off of my gloves. Gross. I go into the living room and get on the floor next to E and I hold my hands up like I am a surgeon. He looks up and says “ew”.

“Honey, I need something starchy.” He goes into the kitchen with me. We have no breadcrumbs. We have no bread. I ask him to look in the cabinet for something. I thought oatmeal might be good. No oatmeal. We have brown rice. That won’t work. He is laughing at my latexy meat-dripping hands and he says, “well, we’ve got Cheerios”. “Um, that’ll be interesting.”

So, E gets a couple of handfuls of cheerios and crushes them into my bowl. I tell him we may be ordering pizza tonight.

I knead the cheerios into the meat and I get the consistency I need. Hooray! I start to put the meatballs into the baking dish but it’s too small. I yell to E, “Honey, can you get me a bigger baking dish?” He comes back in the kitchen. “This one?” “No, the other one.” “This one?” “Rad, perfect. Thanks”. I give him a cheek smooch of gratitude.

The meatballs are in the dish, and I cover them with the spinach saag sauce. In the oven for 40 minutes at 350 degrees. I make the rest of the stuff for dinner. Not done at 40 minutes, they go in for another 15 minutes. They are beautiful! I am a little nervous because of the cheerios. But they were delicious, you couldn’t even tell they had cheerios in it!

So there you have it! Feisty’s Saagy Balls!

I think I want to try with lamb and make something Greek inspired next!