Why writing a post can be hard.
We moved. In June. Right after my last post. We moved to an adorable and super tiny town in Southern Utah. I had built a comfortable life up in Idaho. I had lovely friends that knew me and my situation and were always willing to help and allow me to try to return favors when I could. We had a Wal-Mart where I took the fresh produce for granted. We were within an hour of a big city (really I should say we were within an hour of Costco) and we were having some moments of peace. Heck, I was even feeling a lot better! I was eating perfectly and had shaved down my external stresses quite a bit.
When life gets quiet, I get really nervous.
On that fateful day in June, we packed up our lives as our time with the USAF was complete and headed to France’s hometown to settle down and get some roots. We had a great house waiting for us (First time homeowners! Okay, that’s a bit of a stretch, we bought a home in Spokane anticipating a move there, but fervent pray and direction from above can alter plans, and it did. We now had to sell a home that I had spent less than two hours in altogether and we didn’t even live in that state, good times).
Let me list something that we have all read before.
Top 5 Life Stressors:
- Death of a loved one (Check, check, check etc)
- Divorce (thankfully no check here)
- Moving (Check)
- Major Illness (partial check, Hashimotos is not terminal, but it’s life altering)
- Job Loss (partial check, while he didn’t lose his job, his job ended and we would start a new one)
Boo hoo right? Wrong. I had a roof over my head, my husband, my children, my faith and food on my table. Anything else is just bonus right? And somehow even though I could count my blessings left and right- I was not immune to the stresses of those aforementioned items. Not even a little.
Anxiety attacks crept in. We couldn’t get into our home yet and a family member graciously let us destroy her house for almost a month. The closest Walmart was just under two hours away and then the fridge I was using broke. I had food poisoning the second night there that lasted forever. This same angelic family member helped with my children. France’s new job requires quite a commute. We didn’t (and still don’t) see him much during the week. I couldn’t handle anything again. I was paralyzed by my inability to control my situation. I was so stressed out and not eating much and dealing with my trying to deal that I couldn’t write---let alone be a wife/mother properly (whatever properly means) and the list goes on, I will spare you the details.
So why am I writing now? Because I have yet again climbed out of that hole. I am doing better. I have a routine and for goodness sakes I have eaten dessert and it did not destroy me! Someone once asked me why I am so strict about not eating sugar or other crap foods and my reply was this, if I tell you that dessert once in awhile is okay you will justify eating it every time it’s available to you. If I tell you don’t eat it because it truly is bad for you, then maybe you will only justify it every once in awhile. Food is delicious and I am hoping there is food in Heaven, because, Mmmmmm. So on our sixth anniversary I had two bites of an extraordinary cinnamon roll and it made me absolutley ill. Sure it tasted incredible, but immediately my pulse started racing and I broke out into a weird sugar overload sweat.
I said to him, ‘Honey, that is delicious and has made me so ill that I never want to feel this way again!’
So here’s the interesting part.
To my horror, a mere twenty minutes later my taste buds and body said, 'Hey Lindsay, that was good, eat some more, NOW’!
WHAT?!?!?! SCARY!!!!!!!!! I worked so hard to be un-addicted to sugar that all it took was two bites of a cinnamon roll to eradicate over six months of hard work. TWENTY MINUTES later and I wanted more, more of something that made me sick!! I looked at France and told him to get the rest of them out of our house. He promptly complied, what a dear.
That shocked me. I brushed my teeth and chewed some gum and ate a reallllly filling dinner that night to get away from it. I used to eat sugar till I didn’t want it anymore, looking back I realized that I always wanted to be DONE eating that crap so I would eat a good amount just to get to that point where I could pat my tummy and say, oh yeah, I’ve had enough. That’s mental! I ate my way right to illness I did. Not cool. Anybody ever eat a dessert and swallow the bite so fast just to get another mouthful in? Why do we do that to ourselves?
I have since had desserts at birthday parties, family gatherings, other random events and even ate chips and cookies the other day. Everyone was impressed. But here’s the thing, what are they impressed with? That I am eating ‘normal food’? Why should that be the norm? "She eats toxic, sugar laden food that’s awful for all humans to eat, clap clap clap, hooray!!!"
(Okay, I got dramatic there, but you get the picture).
I feel like healthy eating is like trying to maintain a budget, the more you cut back and make better choices, the more people around you will wonder what the big deal is. It’s a HUGE deal! We should all help each other make better choices and not judge others for trying to maintain healthier lifestyles. Healthier lifestyles benefit every single aspect of your life and those around you. (That’s really sounding Dave Ramseyish-which is cool with me).
Indulgences here and there are human and I get that. I make a conscience choice every time I eat something I know isn’t good for me. I eat enough to really taste it, then I walk away. I don’t have to justify that anymore, because I am not perfect and nor will I ever be in this earth life. I still try to eat as strictly as I have---and most days I do, because it’s makes a difference! I FEEL BETTER! I am about what people call 80/20. Eighty percent of the time being perfect, twenty not so much. I feel like I try to be more 95/5, because yes, I still have a lifelong autoimmune disease. Life is so stressful all the time that the elements that I can control, I do. That is my power. My power to choose.
Life is about to get crazy again. We are moving. We will be a lot closer to a Walmart and food prepping will get a lot easier. Also, there’s a Whole Foods and a Costco, so I can relax about that. I like those places. :)
As my mom used to tell me, you may not have a big gaping wound right now, but the paper cuts hurt too. My body was covered in them this summer with nary a chance to heal before others came along and it’s hard to type with so many dang paper cuts. You may have a gaping wound and tons of paper cuts too, in fact I know you do. You live on earth. Just know, you for real, are never alone. Thank you for your support and hopefully I can return the favors. Service to others is the best way to heal wounds faster. :)
Trying my best,