Learning from my Younger Self

Hello Worldette, 

This evening I was inspired to open my journal and pull out a piece a paper that has been tucked away for over three and a half years. This piece of paper, a hand written reflection I wrote during the "Re-orientation" retreat during my year in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, is one I like to look back on occasionally to remember where I was then and what has brought me to where I am now. I shared the following with a group of fellow volunteers back then, and I will share it with you now. It shows a different, more quiet side of myself that does not come out very often - but with some amazing Jesuits making their way into the public life lately (one I met in NYC during my JV year, James Martin, wrote this amazing article recently), it has reminded me of how much my life and perspective has been formed and impacted by them. 

I have found joy in a quiet church.

This may sound like something that should be fairly obvious, especially with my being someone who was raised in the Catholic Church. But ever since I was young, the idea of a church with no people in it, with few lights on, was one that gave me the creeps more than joy. Just think about it - you're in a really big room, a place where countless dead people have rolled through, a place which is getting its main source of light from candles and dim sunlight streaming in through stained glass. It sounds like the setting for a scary movie more than a place to find joy. But I found it - unexpectedly.

My placement in JVC is a youth minister position at a parish in New York City. This position was the last one I expected to get, considering I am hardly one that can describe herself as a "good" Catholic. But I accepted, realizing that God had more planned for me than I could have imagined.

When I came to work in "God's house" (the church), I rarely went into the main sanctuary. Other than weekly mass, I saw no real reason to walk in (except for that one time when I had discovered the movie "Keeping the Faith" had been filmed there - and I went in to see for myself). I knew that devout parishoners came in all the time to pray, but I still got that slightly creeped-out feeling at the idea of that room. 

A couple weeks into my JVC experience, though, I was moved to go and sit there one afternoon. My cover was that I was going in to "pray," but really I just wanted to take a nap for a few minutes... who was going to say I wasn't praying? Who would care? I went in, walked to the door, tapped myself with holy water and moved towards the pews. Just as I was about to walk in the main sanctuary, though, I was nearly assaulted by a pigeon! (It fluttered right past my head from behind.)

I immediately realized that God was telling me to wake up and pay attention. (Or at least I now felt guilty for my original motivation and decided that I would consciously pray and sit with God in His house.)

When I sat down to pray, it surprised me how calming the sanctuary actually way. I was able to sit and unload my mind, to lift up my burdens to God. When I did this, I realized how much of a load I was carrying around with me - things like what we've mentioned today, everything in my world - it had built up, and I was cracking under the pressure I had refused to give to God. 

So I unloaded my mind; and then I listened. The church was actually the most ideal place I could have imagined to such an activity. It was relaxing to be in a dim place, to hear the humming of older ladies praying the rosary. I was having a quiet moment - one that I had not allowed myself up until that point. 

And then I heard one distinct, complete sentence; a complete idea in my head. I immediately knew that this thought was not my own, that God had told me one thing that would not only ease some of the pressure I put on myself, but also would challenge me to change my actions. I LOVED IT. This was joy. 

I finally was able to open my heart and let God in, and He let me know that He was listening and that I was loved. 

It wasn't easy, and it still is quite a daunting challenge to remember to pray, and to make a quiet moment for myself. Sometimes I forget about my little encounter with some sort of divine spark, but going into the church now no longer gives me a creepy feeling. No - I feel calm, I feel joy. 

Wow. I think I could learn a little from my younger self. Just four years ago, I was able to push the clutter of life aside and give my time to others and to my faith  (and share it with 70 others in a large room). Now with the way we all over-extend ourselves, constantly interact with technology, and multi-task at a break-neck pace, it's hard to find those moments to compose our thoughts and find calm without staying up an extra hour to unwind properly. It doesn't take a faith in God to feel the value of a quiet moment to organize thoughts, or to find peace. Just letting ourselves be, without the sensory stimulation of a half dozen technologies at once could likely lead to a much balanced life, even if for just five minutes a day.  I know I rarely allow myself to stop all the doing in my life to just have internal quiet and peace, but I might just start making that time for myself, minute by minute. I am going to start allowing nothingness, internal quiet and peace, to come into my life from time-to-time. Maybe more epiphanies will come from the dimly lit rooms of my mind. 

I encourage you, Worldette, to stop yourself for a moment. When you get into your car at the end of the day, or when you step outside to take a lunch, or any time that is not committed - resist the urge to look at your phone, or to immediately get to your next destination in a hurry, give your self a moment and just be. Be with you. It's pretty awesome company to have. 

Facing Frailty

Sundays are great. I find that I am most inspired to blog on the quiet Sunday evenings I have to myself. Tonight I feel that there is a lot I’d like to say, but every time I type something out it sounds contrite or oddly negative. I try to keep things I release to you, worldette, fairly positive [who wants to read sad ramblings? Not me.] – though at times I feel terrifically fragile and human. I have gotten far enough in my own self-knowledge to realize that I am not bad, but sometimes my frailties show their ugly heads and push positivity aside.

This week I was involved in an amazing event. A friend from middle school (who I recently re-connected with after living on the other side of the country for over a decade) is on his first solo tour with another musician, and he could not find a venue to book in Seattle. So, being a big fan of his and a loyal friend I sent an e-mail to a friend who lives in a great house for sharing music. This friend agreed to host, and also invited some of his friends who are in process of starting up a new waffle company to share their product. So Tuesday became an awesome evening of waffles, music, and joy. After my friend finished his set, the evening turned into one big jam session that ended with dancing to electronic music and a splendid rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner to end it all right. The event itself was a great success, bringing in around 40 people (on a work night!) to share in the good times. The two musicians stayed the night in my apartment and went on their way the following afternoon.

After such a great 24 hours, I thought I would be energized and ready to conquer the remainder of the week and weekend. There were many personal victories: even with more hunger than I’d like, I kept to my eating schedule. I was in a room full of waffles and didn’t eat one – I was actually satisfied in just smelling them. Even at the end of the week, I marked that I had lost another two pounds. I should have been on cloud nine – but I wasn’t.

Friday night, I found myself feeling lonelier than I have in a long time. Being one who loves living on my own, it troubles me when I get to feeling like this. Solitude is something I enjoy, but loneliness is a fierce beast that comes out of nowhere and bites me on the ass. It is in the lonely moments when the irrational eater comes out of me. Within mere moments of being home, I found myself lurking in the kitchen – pondering what I could eat out of what my cupboards contained, and taking it further to thoughts of what high calorie items I could purchase down the street. I wanted to feed the beast, thinking that food would quiet the insecurities I had over being alone with nothing to do on a Friday night. Food was going to be my friend that night – it was going to remove the cloud of negativity that was hanging over my head.

Fear not, friends – I did not overeat or binge. I didn’t even consume a ridiculous amount of calories or walk down the street to procure the forbidden liquid calories. Practicality is also a strong muscle, and at the end of the day it merely made more sense to cook something on the stove and start reading my new book – The Beck Diet Solution. Minutes later, I was comforted by explanations within the book; telling me that I am not alone in my thinking and that with the tools it contains I would learn how to change the thoughts I have about food. The book did not take away the loneliness, but a late-night call from a friend and a DVD managed to calm me and add a little happiness to the evening.

I find myself a little more sensitive as time passes with the band. I have huge underlying fears that I am going to fail in some way; but every time I check the scale, it is down another pound or two. I have taken to calling the scale a cruel liar at times, but the numbers aren’t lying. I am getting smaller. I hate how long it is taking, but I know this is the way to go if I want to sustain it for life. A year from now, I want to be able to shop for clothing in a local boutique without being paranoid that I would bust every seam in the place. I am tired of feeling like an elephant, and am looking forward to being an “after” photo. There are certain situations that make me uncomfortable with my new eating style, but I am happy in learning how to arm myself when circumstances around me are out of my control.

Thank you for supporting me, worldette. I do get your notes and really appreciate the love that is out there. I may not respond in any sort of timely manner, but know I am thankful to have you out there routing for me.

Post Script:

If you were wondering, the friend on tour is Freddy Hall: http://www.freddyhall.com/

He’s traveling with yellowbirddd: http://yellowbirddd.bandcamp.com/

And the waffle company coming to Seattle is: http://www.facebook.com/LightsOutWaffles

Check ‘em out!

New Rules, New Lessons

Today I wanted ice cream. 


This desire for ice cream was so powerful, that it pushed me to take a detour while on the way home from church. I drove in a direction that passed by both Molly Moon's and Fainting Goat (ice cream and gelato shops, respectively) in Wallingford. I could taste the creamy deliciousness; I was imagining I where I would park and what I would order. I was starting to make up excuses for why it would be a brilliant idea to stop. I was not at all hungry, but staring at the seductive ice cream signs had me trying to justify stopping in. It was then that I suddenly imagined myself as an alcoholic just driving by the bar to see if her friends were there – missing the carefree days of yester-year when she didn’t care or see the consequences of having that one (or seven) beer(s), thinking it wouldn't hurt to have just one for old time's sake. Then it hit me – I had a tool to overpower this desire. A promise, or rather a rule I made last month explicitly regarding all sweets, especially those of the ice cream persuasion:

No ice cream, cookies, or members of the confection family may enter my apartment (save for the rare sugar-free pudding or Jello). If I crave a sweet, I must walk from my home and get the smallest serving available from the shop. Low quality or excessive portions are unacceptable and not an option.

To keep driving and make it home, I found myself chanting a mantra in my head as I passed by both havens of frozen delights: “If I want it that badly, I will walk here. That’s my rule.” This stuck out to me, because it was the first time I realized that I truly do have power to control what I eat. It also was the first time I noticed I was explicitly using a tool I picked up from the lap band support group I’ve been going to.

Just last week the nurse that runs the support group for lap band patients (who is also a ‘bandster’) shared that every time she thinks of pizza, she says to herself (and whomever may be around to hear it) “pizza is not a healthy food choice.” At first, I didn’t know why this in particular stuck out to me so much; but now a few things are starting to make sense. As I am a fan of bullet point lists, I thought I’d share a few things that I’ve been learning about this new banded life:

• I have power over what I eat. Just because something is in front of my face, or because I feel a certain way does not mean I have to throw all the work I am doing out the window. I’m actually a pretty strong lady, and I refuse to continue letting food pull me away from my goals.
• Resistance is like a muscle that has to be worked. The more I work at resisting, the easier it will be. I may even be able to start resisting in really challenging situations – like parties or social gatherings.
• It doesn’t take much food at all to keep me going. I am still learning how to portion correctly and to fix what my eyes think I am hungry for, but I am starting to learn that what I thought about eating and dieting until now has been all wrong. I do not need to have 4 or 5 tiny meals a day. I do not need to keep snacks in my work drawer as contingency food to keep me going so I don’t binge at dinner. I don’t need more than a few vegetables to last me a week.
• Breakfast really is the most important meal of the day. It is worth taking a few minutes in the morning to stop, sit, and eat a small breakfast. I eat on a schedule, so having breakfast before I leave for work allows me to have coffee shortly after I get in, AND it allows for me to have lunch at a decent time.
• Planning ahead is vital. I HATE doing it sometimes, but packing my lunch the night before or checking the menu of a restaurant for possible food options really makes a huge difference.
• Eating out is not impossible. Though it is hard sometimes, and has lead me to re-consider a lot of my social practices. I’ll expand on this in a future post.
• It’s okay to throw away food. It can go in the garbage or go in the toilet – either way it ends up being crap.
• My body will know if I’m not making good food choices. Already, I am learning when I’ve eaten too much, or haven’t chewed enough, or the food I chose was just wrong. Other things are changing as well – I don’t crave bread or chocolate. It’s like the band turned off the switch that dictated that Bruscetta as my favorite meal and chocolate as necessary for survival. By the way, pizza is not a healthy food choice. 

Today I realized that it has been exactly one month since my lap band surgery (07.15.10 – a day in my history that will not be forgot). In these 4+ weeks, I’ve learned a lot about myself and my relationship with food, but I know I am just on the edge of it all – this is going to be a life-long journey and I am only on the first step. According to my little home scale tracking spreadsheet, I am currently 10.2 lbs lighter than I was the week before surgery. I don’t think I look any different. I am still massively afraid that I am going to do something to sabotage this, or that I will flat out fail. But all these little steps are progress, and I am excited to share it all here.

  

Looking Under the Surface of "Want"

So in this little journey of mine I have decided to look for a help in various forms. I'm a shy one at first, so I am starting with a book for young adults looking to find/choose the perfect career. No harm, right? Since I started this blog to document the steps I am taking towards my own wildest dreams, I will share the highlights from the various insights I gain from this book and the exercises it contains.
Below I have copied in one part of an exercise I worked on tonight. I think the questions this book is asking are very well put and are pulling some interesting ideas out of that dormant side of me. This inquiry exercise started by asking for a list of motivations and wants. Then the author flipped his approach and said to look at the motivations for the wants, and to see beyond wanting into what is possible. I found my personal reflection slightly surprising, actually - and enjoyed what I wrote below the most. (A singing Martha?!?! hahahaha. I love when I get into free flowing ideas.)


What’s Possible?

"Take a moment and imagine you are walking down the street one day and – blam – you get run over by a truck. You wake up in heaven with a concerned looking angel wringing his hands and apologizing. He tells you that you were run over by mistakes, and you will be sent back to earth. As compensation for the error, you get to choose the kind of life you will have, the kind of work you will do, where you will live and so forth. The only limitation is that you will be the same you who got run over, so if you can’t sing, you can’t pick “rock star” as a career. What would you choose? What sort of work? What sort of life? Would it be different from what you said you wanted earlier? In other words, are you selling yourself short, looking at what is only probable? If you could have exactly what you wanted, what would that be? " *

My personal reflective response (off the cuff):
In this scenario, I would be sent back to work in the arts community. I would work to discover and produce new bands, keeping my fingers on the pulse of the music community, and finding the next new sound before it hits it big in the main stream.
I would also work in theatre, finding talented song writers and playwrights, and work with them to develop new books for theatre – being a face in the forefront of what is new in theatre. I would find new audiences and bring them into the theatre world.
I would meet and connect talent together – I would inspire those more skilled and talented than myself to make great things. I would be the voice of reason in creative meetings – but I would always have my hand in everything, guiding and working with others to develop new forms of art for the 21st century.
There would also be a part where I am able to feature my own talents in creativity: I would be something like the next Martha Stewart, in a way. Maybe something like a singing Martha. There would be music, crafts, performance, art, culinary art, and I would be surrounded by other talented people.
I would have an apartment in Seattle, and an apartment in Manhattan. I would be able to afford a trainer. There would be music around me, always music.

*From the book: Now What? by Nicholas Lore (c) 2008