The Anxiety of Being a Super Mom

Almost three months post-partum and today I am struggling with a low grade of anxiety today (as have I other days).  Weird dreams, trouble sleeping but then over come with exhaustion.  It comes every once and while.  I get moody and I don't know why.  For the short term, I have nothing to be anxious about.  I don't even have anywhere to go today.  Everyone is healthy, the bills are paid, and no one is really asking anything of me.  Yet, each day passing is another day closer to the inevitable, returning to work.  I have two jobs.   One that pays well, is consistent but I struggle to manage my emotions in, the other, is inconsistent, not very profitable but something I really enjoy (but it has the potential to earn a lot and be more flexible).  And as I stare at baby girl sleeping in her swing peacefully, I keep wondering, how am I going to make this all work?

I know there are so many things I can do now that my license is in and I am getting paneled with insurance, but it's like the climax of the movie and I am not really sure just how it will turn out.  I need to allow God to take over and once again reveal his faithfulness but even with prayers for this situation night after night, I just become wrapped up in more and more things "I should do" or "that I need to do" for the business.  I just wish money wasn't something we needed to depend on...

I've enjoyed being at home with the baby.  While sometimes slightly lonely, I love being her mom and knowing when she cries or is wet, she is attended to in a timely manner.  While I know there are plenty of other people in the world who can care for her, I don't want someone else to care for her.  When she smiles at me, I don't want to share those smiles with anyone else.  It's like our own little communication that I am loving her well.  Even if I have to get up and move around 100 times to adjust a pacifier, change her diaper, try ten different things before I realize she just wanted to eat again, I still love every moment.  More than doing therapy?  Yes, hands down, I'd rather be home.

But the reality for us, like so many other people, is that we need two incomes (or Chris needs to sign a contract to play NBA basketball).  It's not that we need all that much more money, but one income would make things so tight for us that we wouldn't be able to do anything, go anywhere, or treat our child to the fun things in life.  With KK being a bit earlier than we expected, I am caught between the job I've always wanted and the job I already have.  And while I love the kids at school, sometimes I want the freedom to say, I just want to take a week off.  Or if a client cancels, I don't feel like I have to hunt down the parents to find another.  Mainly, I hate doing home visits on the breaks as I feel like I am just wandering around the streets of Indianapolis waiting to be stood up so I can be stressed about my hours.  I can work 60% less (or more) for the same amount of money even with overhead expenses, taxes, and everything else to work in my private office.  But I have the simplicity of having billing, finding referrals, and being able to bill for calls and other services that you don't get paid for in private work when I work CMH.  In my private office, I have colleagues I respect and work with doing therapy, in CMH, I rarely see my coworkers but I do enjoy the school environment. I can pro and con the two positions.  Either way, I am stuck.  I have a baby that needs care, a bank account that needs monthly deposits, and limited time to do it all. 

My heart is going back and forth.  If I could make having a private practice more consistent and easier to use, it would hands down be the best bet, but right now, it's not.  And as I look at her and think about if I can pull this all off without coming up short in some area, I wonder if I can be Super Mom or if I will just Super Suck at pulling this all together.  This Saturday, my maternity leave is half over.  The savings account is going to start being pulled out of to compensate for not having an income.  My job starts up August 5, and come that time, I need to know how to manage having two jobs, pick one, or some how stumble on a financial miracle (which I am not leaning to heavily on).  I know I still have plenty of time, but today I just can't shake it.  Can I be enough?  What will happen to her?  Will we be happy?  Am I making the right choice for our family?  All I know is being a Super Mom is tiring, anxiety provoking, and more pressure than I've felt before.  What I pick could totally shape her growth and development, our relationship, her behavior, and our family. 

 

So I am just sitting in a puddle of my own anxiety today.  Too scared to "let go and let God", too stubborn to accept he is in control.  I am too eager to try and make something work, but at the same time, it's causing me so much emotional stress.  It's hard to enjoy her, when I am thinking of all the things I "should" be doing.  I am reminded of a therapist who told me that "I should on myself" too much.  She was right, but how do I stop?  If I wasn't an over-achiever before, I certainly am a maniac at trying to "make it happen" with the pressure of providing for KK.  Stomach upset, head foggy, eyes  worn and tired, I just want direction.  I just need vision.. clarity.  Do what?  In what order? What do I leave behind?  Is part of being a Super Mom knowing your Achilles heal? My kryptonite appears to be weakening my effectiveness today.  

 

My kryptonite is forgetting that God is in control of it all.  It's allowing the glowing darkness of the unknown future creep into my heart and mind.  It's fear of losing it all or not doing what I need to do that makes my heart flutter.  It's not having control of things and not having a thick margin of error.  It's trying to give God the reigns.  It's trusting I can fly.  I feel like I am standing on top the building with a job to do, but so much fear that it's holding me back.  I have my Super Mom cape on and everyone thinks I have got it together, but inside, my stomach is in knots.  I am scared to fail, to flop, to disappoint.  I am scared I won't win the prize and scared I will be unhappy and unfulfilled.  

How does one Super Mom overcome?  

Stepping it up

Three weeks into Clean Eating.  Outside of one slip up on my vacation to Michigan, I would say I have done fairly well.  I have gotten into a groove of eating these whole foodies and I can't say it's bad at all.  I think I missed being able to roll into McDonald's, but I don't miss the guilt of feeling like I was eating junk (because I was).  I am proud to say I am down 8 pounds from Easter, and 31 pounds down from the day before my water broke.  I still have 21 pounds to go until I get to my pre-baby weight and about 35 pounds away from my MAGIC goal weight.  Magic because I am not sure I can get there feasibly with this new body, but I am sure going to try.

I have started walking regularly, but today, for the first time since June of last year, I jogged.  It was for maybe a quarter mile or a little more, but I did it.  Stomach felt ok and dog made me motivated to try a little longer.  I am walking about 30-60 minutes each time and I feel stronger and stronger.  I am quite a sight; a momma, a stroller and baby, a husky along side listening to my Pandora aloud as I pump along the neighborhood. 

I am motivated after three weeks which is not usually like my past diet attempts.  I feel my stomach shrinking and my clothes fitting a little better.  I feel stronger in my legs and butt.  It's small changes here and there that make me feel different.  I can't believe I was 21 pounds lighter this time last year.  I can't wait to feel that way again.  I have been motivating myself with old pictures, scripture, success stories from my peers, and today buying a brand new pair of running shoes.

Last year for my birthday, I had asked for work out gear.  I got a complete Weight Watcher's kit and lots of cute workout gear.  I even got this awesome Nike watch to use with my shoes.  I found out I was pregnant a week before my birthday, so I almost felt like the weight loss stuff was a waste at the time.  I knew I would use it after the baby, and now that time has come.  I have all these cute size medium work out things, and I am dreaming of the day that my body looks cute wearing those clothes again.  For now, I am wearing Chris's small shirts as over-sized workout "dresses", leggings, and now my new shoes!

I thought by now, I would be shutting down and praying for carbs, but I am actually not.  I have completely started to enjoy veggies and fruit in a whole new way.  I love cooking with these new ingredients.  Latest favorites are "avocados and spinach scrambled eggs" and lots of fruits like bananas, apples, grapes, and berries.  I think having a partner in the journey who wants to lose weight, too, makes it much easier.  Together, we have lost 18 pounds.  We are going to step it up again.  I am going to start running again and Chris is going to start doing a push up regime and do his physical therapy for his knee.  We are doing a 5k walk this weekend and I hope it kicks off becoming more into our workouts.  I am not looking for an extreme plan, just a lifestyle change.  We are gardening more and watching TV less.  We are eating lots more veggies.  We are sharing our thoughts, encouraging each other, thinking about ways we can have less and we can give more with food, with money, and with how we live.   There is so much to our life style change of simplifying, renewing, and becoming more of who we feel God wants us to be.  We are stepping it up.

Having a baby is life changing, and it's also very motivating.  There were so many things that I struggled to do for myself because I guess I always felt that I succeeded in my professional, academic and relational life.  I told myself that by being smart or successful was an excuse to eat what I wanted to skip workouts.  I always gave myself a pass when I was lazy and ate garbage.  I had to start realize that I was actually missing out, on good foods and more quality time with my family.  Something changed when I had KK.  My motivation and my heart earned for a more fulfilling life, marriage, and lifestyle.  For once, I want to change that side of me, too, because I want her to see that you can be healthy, a big giver, an active person, and one who is in love with the Lord.  I started to realize that how I live after work was just as important as the work I did every day.  I started to realize that work was a lot less important than I thought it was.  Every day that I glorify that promise to her and myself, I have sense of confidence like I've never had before.  I am happier.  The positive momentum continues and I just want more of that in my life. 

So I keep moving forward... 

A Little for a Lot, a Lot for a Little

1.5 weeks into clean eating and exercising to burn off my "mommy weight", I stepped back on the scale.  Down two pounds.  No major celebration or deep depression, I  just lost two of about 30 pounds.  1/15th of my goal.  It is some progress, but not enough to jump for joy over.  Losing 2 pounds has not been easy.  I've been walking every day for at least 30-60 minutes at a power walk pace, staying strict on my clean diet, and hauling around baby, mulch, laundry baskets, and groceries.  It seems so much harder to lose this weight than it was to gain it.  I feel like with all we have been doing, I should be down at least 5-10 pounds by now.  It's like back on that mountain in Oahu when I thought we were at the top, only to round the corner and find another long and endless stretch of the hiking trail.  I look down and see I have made progress, but not what I was hoping for.

 

They say it take two weeks for one to change a habit.  I think it's going to take me years to rewrite my brain to accept this is "better" to eat clean without all the processed goodies I used to love.  Frozen pizzas, bagels, chicken nuggets, mac-n-cheese, pasta roni, and chicken patties were staples in our house.  Our menu plans were like random montages of processed, pre-made frozen entrees.  Now things are different.  I no longer am having specific cravings for sugary carbs, but I still miss them.  It seems like changing so much for so little change.  Like the mountain for this weight loss won't be like the ten pound freshman year blow off.  I remember coming home for summer break from Purdue wanting to lose 10 pounds and within a few weeks I would lose 15 doing the South Beach Diet (only to eat and drink it back on each semester), but it felt like it just fell off.  

Similarly, I am sure that's like how I would be walking up that hill in Oahu much slower this time.  I am getting older, yes, but am I getting so old that my recovery time is really that slow?   Is that what happens when you get old?  Ew...  Is this that slow road down to old people rigidity?  Where I only like my meat a certain way, have to eat dinner by 5 and only enjoy the music from "my day, not this jungle music the kids listen to these days?"  Am I getting old?  It feels like my bounce back, my willingness and ease of rolling with the punches is even more so impaired.  I was already not one for change, but I feel like make change is like grinding my teeth this time around.  I am really struggling some days for the motivation to work out.  Really struggling not to roll on down to McDonald's for lunch. 

So much work goes into making life change, especially when your habits are engrained.  But I have motivation.  As I watch K sleeping and recognize she's already growing and becoming more aware I am motivated to make those changes.  Maybe making these small changes will change how she remembers her childhood.  If we change our diet will it seem like a big deal if our child grows up healthy?   If we turn off the television and play with her instead of being TV zombies, will we really miss it if she ends up having a closer relationship with us?  And if we get active and stay active not just go on diet binges, will she develop a healthier relationship with food than we did?  Those things that feel big, will become small when standing and looking back.  

 

That journey won't feel so bad once it's over and I look back on it.  One step at a time, one day, one meal, one food craving, one lazy evening, I have to realize that if I am going to change my habits, it will sometimes feel like a little and sometimes feel like a lot.  But once I stand back and look at how far I will have come, I know it will all be worth it.  One pound, one step at a time.  There's a lot at stake as I stare at her from across the room...  She's pretty wonderful.  I want to give her the best of me that I can.  So I guess it's worth all the effort I got...

Still Trying to Master Patience

Everyone told me becoming a parent makes you more patient.  Something about all the things you go through selflessly because you're a parent somehow earns you a badge of patience.  For awhile I was thinking that, "wow, I have really grown in the area of patience since I became a mom".  I mean, never before, have I delayed peeing so much except for long car trips from Flint to Purdue and waiting in line at Kings Island.   However, I was putting together some ties for my patio furniture, and I realized that I am not necessarily anymore patient than I was before I had K, just maybe a little more resilient.

Resiliency is an over-used counseling term for "people who have been through a lot of crap and are hardened in a sense to the world, so they are able to survive" (at least that is what I got out of counseling class).  Resiliency in therapy means people can handle some pretty hard things, overcome, and rise above.  Resiliency almost seems to be an internal need for survival rather than a choice.  Resiliency is a mindless, unconscious process of dealing with things.  I know many resilient people who have very little patience.  It doesn't mean they aren't lovable, awesome people, but it's not a spiritual gift they have fine tuned. 

I grew up with a Vietnam War Veteran.  On the outside, the man had been through hell and back.  His return from war was far from a welcome homecoming.  He had killed people, watched people be killed, and had lived in survival for over a year.  He had seen the atrocities of war.  He survived.  He dealt with the pain,  and he selflessly gave his time and energy for the cause.  He wasn't even bitter about how he was treated upon his return.  He felt he had served his country.  He seemed so accepting of the reality which is war.  He approached his journey as "matter-of-fact", and didn't seem to express anger about all that he had seen and had to endure.  That is my picture of resilience.  Is my father patient?  (My mother just burst out laughing as she read this)....  All my life we referred to my father's patience as "an Irish temper" or "a short fuse".  Ironically, going through life change doesn't create patience or tolerance, it simply allows you to take on more things, survive more, live more.

Likewise, I think patience does not come from being a parent.  Patience is a choice.  Back to my patio furniture epiphany.  We bought this cute patio set from Wal-mart two years ago after our wedding.  It's a faux wicker set with cute, bright orange pads.  Well, some genius in Wal-Mart's Better Home and Garden design team failed to think of the concept of "wind" when he designed my patio furniture because even when there is a slight breeze these cute cushions have blown across the yard.  Probably 100 times last summer I had to hike through the yard and reassemble my patio set.  One time it even blew a few houses down...  Needless to say, this year, I was on a mission to anchor these suckers down to the chairs.  So I on a whim (as always with my random projects), decided I have some string that should work.  I cut holes and I am tying them.  All the sudden, these holes are taking a little longer than usual.  My back tightens from hunching over longer than planned.  I sigh.  "Press on, Kerrie, make it work".  A few minutes later the dark blue clouds in the west have made their way over to me.  It starts to sprinkle.  20 minutes into tying seven stupid cushions to their appropriate chair, I feel my anxiety getting the best of me.  Hunched over the chair as rain falls on my back I think, "I am not anymore patient than I was before I had a baby... I am just more resilient".  See, now I am willing to stand in the rain and press on for the sake of getting this done during nap time.  The benefit of a finished project outweighed my getting cold and wet in the rain...

I think like all spiritual gifts, patience for me is going to have to be a worked on behavior and conscious choice.  I am still snappy (probably way more lately) with Chris.  I hate to admit it, but that "crazy mom reaction" I have displayed on more than one occasion in the last two months.  Sure, I have sat through lots of baby crying because I can't instantly make a bottle, and changing her diaper does cause me to have to lay her down and wipe her butt while she screams.  Every day has it's challenges with a tiny person who doesn't understand she has to wear a seat belt, get her nose suctioned, and nails clipped.  I have sat through ten minute baths with death-curdling screams and then tried to change a baby crying like their are being stabbed.  Every mother does...  But are we any more patient because of it?  Unfortunately, I don't think so.  We don't get to earn a badge of patience. 

Unlike kindergarten and Girl Scouts, there is no sticker and no badge that says I have mastered being patient.  Lets be honest... I still sort of suck at it.  But I think knowing that, makes me want to work at it all the more.  I don't have to embrace generational Irish temper/short fuses, I can keep working on me to be a patient mother.  I don't want K telling her friends or future husband, "my dad was so patient, but my mother... whew..."  So mommies, friends, family... sad news: You didn't earn your patience, but you can choose to exercise it every day! 

Colossians 3:12-13 Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.

I like that the writing says, "put on then".  It's a verb.  A conscious action.  I can choose to walk out the door without it, or I can stop and put it on.  Like underwear, patience, needs to be the first thing I put on with the people I love.  It should be looked at and kept clean.  I should repent for my lashes of anger.  I should get a clean slate by seeking reconciliation with those I hurt, even my child.  One of the things I wished I had heard more growing up was, "I'm sorry for losing my temper with you".  I understand my parents worked their butts off and my sister and I were giant pains in the butt.  But I don't think our choice as individuals in the world ever constitute our decision not to use patience.  God calls us to do it.  It is sinful not to and we should seek repentance and reconciliation when we fail to use it, even with our 10 pound nuggets or those big burly men who married us "through sickness and health until death do us part".  I have a lot of growing to do, but I am glad God gives us the grace and glad our families usually give us the grace and patience to let us fall and stumble and return to try again.  I guess that's the important part, that I never give up trying to love better and more deeply without assuming I have it all together...

“Have patience with all things, but chiefly have patience with yourself. Do not lose courage in considering your own imperfections but instantly set about remedying them– every day begin the task anew.”  ~ Francis de Sales

Week 1 Complete,,, find comfort without comfort foods...

Week 1 complete!  After realizing my scale was not settling back at 0 when I stepped off of it, I adjusted it and ended up losing 4 pounds.  Not sure when it got off balance, but I will take it.  I feel my legs growing in definition and I just plain feel better eating clean.  I took a break yesterday for lunch, my "cheat meal", that I am allowing us to have on Sunday, and honestly, it tasted good but I felt like a slug afterward.  I love Mexican food, but even with not ordering a bunch of food, taking out the queso, and only half a basket of chips, I felt so tired and "food coma-ed" afterward that it motivated me to stay eating clean just for energy alone.
My buns and legs are feeling tighter, my eyes feel more awake in the morning, and I just feel like "go, go, go" when I am eating these fresh foods.  I hate to admit that, but it does have a remarkable difference.  I notice my patience is better, too.  I still sleep deeply, crave carbs, and miss my diet soda, but I am coming along.  

I think the biggest thing is letting go of the idea that I can "blast it off".  It's one week and I feel like I've been doing this for so long already.  While I do enjoy the benefits, I am coming to recognize my addiction with food is purely out of comfort.  Carbs comfort me in a weird way.  Like Baby K and her bottle, I relax with my cheese and crackers.  I melt with hot bread sticks.  They just fill me, soothe me, and comfort me in a way that broccoli never can.  I guess that's why they call them "Comfort Foods" for a reason.  While I think we were created to have comfort, I've got to get to a point when I can "self soothe" without my comfort foods.  I used to have a bad day at work and roll through McDonald's for a double cheeseburger and a diet coke.  I'd feel sad from the weather and make mac-n-cheese.  We could get cabin fever and get a sweet froyo with candy on top.  I can think of a 1,000 carbs and a hundred million times I made the choice to feel better with food.  It was done in my family growing up, and I have carried it on into my own home.  

Now... I'm Linus without a blanket.  Carrots and hummus are like rubbing my face against sand paper.  I miss those warm, soft tender puffs of flour and wheat.  What can I use instead?  Can something else fill the void?  

I have started trying to use my thoughts instead of my food to get me through.  Granted, my stress is about a 1 on a scale of 1-10 being home with KK, but I want to at least try.  Scripture, positive phrases, stupid lines that my mom says like "nothing feels right when your pants are too tight" or "a moment on the lips are forever on the hips".  But I think maybe comfort in the scriptures like, 

"Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body." -1 Corinthians 6:19-20.  

If that doesn't keep me accountable... maybe I will try....  

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?  -Mathew 6:25


So two cards with these verses are going on my refrigerator.  I have to keep trying other things besides returning to old habits and old loves.  I have to keep trying to be my BEST me!   

Refocus...

My stomach tightens, clinched in anxiety... the scale.... It's been over a week since I started dabbling in clean foods, five days of doing it purely.  I had gained almost 8 from Easter Sunday... (said a few cry outs to God and His Son on Monday morning when I got on the scale for weigh-in).  Drum roll....  and I've lost nothing.  Staggering at 180, I am down 26 pounds from my peak in pregnancy but up 7 since delivery.  Depression sets in...  Wait for it... Now, anger...  So is my life as a chubby girl.

I am a woman of immediate results.  I hear you saying, "but Kerrie it's only been 4 days and 4 nights".  I have head voices screaming, "FOUR ETERNITIES WITHOUT BREAD AND DIET SODA!!!!!!!"  I need results, God.  I like most women define myself as a Christ-follower but then by my appearance.  I won't deny that when my jeans fit well I beam with confidence.  So after depriving myself of all my favorite snackies, I was hoping for just 1 pound, maybe 2 of loss.  I needed a crumb of encouragement.  A little morsel that all this is worth it.  Can one lose weight in four days by eating right and walking for an hour a day?  I would like to think so, but here I am having to accept that it took "9 months to gain it and it will probably take 9 months to lose it". 

See my goal was to lose it by my birthday, June 23rd, because usually I go to the outlet mall and get my yearly or semi-annual crazy shopping day.  It's where all my saved up budget money goes to a mound of goodies.  I only allow myself to go in June and December, but when I do, it's like Christmas morning for a five year old.  I take anything I want back to the dressing room and model like a Diva for a Day.  And NOTHING is worse than getting into one of those tiny rooms with a rack of a-size-too-small pairs of pants.  Talk about a buzz kill...  There I stand with those horrid full length mirrors in my granny panties praying for perfection.  "Wah wah wah" the comedic sound effect cues when I get half way up my thighs only to realize that size that fit last year is a far cry from fitting this year.  I have only allowed it to happen once.  I didn't buy pants that year and I immediately went on the South Beach Diet.  I lost 15 pounds and returned six months later in a victory purchase round.

So when I gave up bread, pasta, and all that jazz this round, I wanted to feel that same glee that I get each morning to step on the scale and watch it return to normalcy.  Alas, this is reality.  I could get on tomorrow and a few glasses of water will totally change my weight.  Maybe tomorrow I will blast off 5 at one time... (I have truly wishful and magical thinking sometimes).  See, I know it's not about a number, but it is to me.  A number to me symbolizes progress.  A number to me symbolizes control.  I feel in control of myself when I can lose the weight I "uncontrollably" gained.  It feels like getting an A on a 20 page paper, running a marathon, or making the best meal for a group of people and having them all "ooh and ahh". 

How then, in yet another season of patience, do I continue to motivate myself to "climb that mountain yet again"?  This blog is a true testimony to my lack of patience, the pay off when I have to wait, and the joy I experience from learning over and over and over and over and over again that it is worth it.  Calling that delayed gratification issue a design flaw from God.  Design flaw #4 after poor eye sight, large thighs, and quick temper. 

Ok.. breather moment.  Re-group, Kerrie...  One minute, one hour, one day at time.  Make the right choices and eventually you will get there.  The sun will rise on your hard work and on your journey.  Another mountain to climb, another day, and another sunrise.  You have to keep climbing or you lose the ability to find joy in life.  You have to push yourself, or you'll end up complacent.  Nothing is better than feeling that sense of accomplishment.  You know how wonderful you feel when you are your BEST YOU!   And as mom always says,  "nothing feels right when your pants are too tight".  Well, all of my pants (minus the maternity ones and sweats) are too tight.  I have to keep fighting for me.  Please God give me the strength....

Cold Turkey

Day 2:
No Refined sugar or flours...  I ate almost all organic with no processed foods again today.  I have not had any soda.  I have remained positive and hopeful that this process is the best choice for our family.  Chris and I both have 25 pounds to lose and while his will probably fall off quicker than mine, we need to change our eating habits so that by the time KK can eat solid foods, she isn't seeing her parents model our previously terrible eating habits.  Tonight, out of sheer lack of experience, I cooked ground beef, veggies, and a potato combo that ended up looking like dog food by the time I finished.  Chris gave me the death stare.   My response:  "There is always Kashi or 100% Bran flakes if you don't like it".  My one exception in this journey is a few condiments but only in 2 tablespoon serving maximums.  I chose ketchup.  To my delight, my montage of produce, lean GB and yellow potatoes wasn't too terrible.  I actually liked it.  So did Chris!

I also started walking again.  With the weather improving, I can commit to taking the dog and baby on an afternoon stroll in the heat of the day.  I also want to put together a list of exercises like lunges, lateral arm raises and old exercises I used to do in grad school to lose weight since I don't have the money for a gym.  I decided on rainy days, I can use nap time to do a workout video.

This vessel is really out of shape.  I feel it in doing the most basic tasks like vacuuming, taking out trash, and now lugging a 10 pound bag of potatoes around (aka Kaylie).  But I don't yet feel the withdrawls.

A few of my friends have been quite successful eating clean.  I envy all the work they have done, weight they lost, and the commitment.  I had no idea how many carbs I was eating.  It was a lot...  I would say some days I maybe ate 90% carbs... and simple carbs like bread, cheerio's, and pasta.  It is a huge shift to replace that with 50% veggies.  I have actually been surprised at how good raw foods taste including the mass quantities of veggies I am cooking with these days.

So no shakes, no withdrawal, and no crazy relapse yet, but it's been 48 hours...   Just happy I haven't died from my cold turkey elimination of the BEST FOOD EVER...  (I still miss you bread)!

My Love Affair with Bread

Since I was in third grade, I've struggled with my weight.  If left unchecked, I can put on weight not because I have terrible metabolism or there is anything wrong with my body, but because I LOVE FOOD!  I love carbs the most (with a side of cheese and occasionally some protein).  I could live off of Panera french baguettes with a side of soup (usually something made of a cream base), some diet pepsi and a healthy variety of sandwiches with thick focaccia bread.   I have been known as the connoisseur of bread among friends and family.  I usually have about a dozen forms of carbs on hand at home from frozen biscuits, a basic sandwich, a wrap of some kind, pizza crust, bagels, muffins, etc.  So the idea of realizing it is those sweet, processed, sugary staples of my diet that usually holds me back from my weight loss and knowing I have an extra 25 pounds on my body, I have come to terms with the reality that if I am going to get back to a healthy weight in the next six months to a year, I need to give them up for awhile.


Give them up?  Yes, friends, I have a love affair with bread.  I will admit, I LOVE them.  I get a sense of joy from eating bread.  I have been like "Mother Bread" the symbol from Panera (a loaf in every arm).  I look forward to Little Caesar crazy bread or any bread with butter and cheese on it.... Red Lobster biscuits, Olive Garden Sticks, Logan's loaf.... the list continues.  I can't have a salad and ignore that cute carb on the side, because I LOVE them.  They are the cherry on my sundae, and I could totally pass up all the candy, chocolate, and other bake goods in the world, but throwing out the breads is like an alcoholic giving up their cocktail of choice. 

In working with addicts, I recognize the full love and obsession that their can be with an addiction.  It's a wrestling match to give up the one thing that is killing you.  And while my obsession with baked deliciousness is not yet life threatening, I have a theory that if I let my poor eating habits developed in pregnancy continue, I will end up heavier and heavier unable to regain control.  That will spiral to depression and without conscious thought, I will become a candidate for the Biggest Loser....  ok, I know, a bit extreme, but it happens. 

Today is the day that my addiction with not only refined flour ends, but so does my tendency to eat a pile of processed poo known as 97% of products at the grocery store.  I know I will not live as a purest, and my goal is to get back to my typical weight so I can wear my closet of J. Crew cuteness, but until those size 10 boot cut petite cut jeans fit again, I have to start denying myself my drug of choice.  I also need to give up my other "gateway drugs" of processed cereals, frozen entrees, chicken nuggets, mac n cheese, and the number of childhood comfort foods who have kept me great company in the last year. 

My kitchen was stocked two days ago with fresh, clean power foods.  Lots of produce, eggs (organic cage free), lean meats, plain yogurt, millet, and Ezekiel bread (aka a pile of bird food smashed into the shape of bread).  I have tossed out processed cheese, denied the biscuits and am going to move all processed frozen foods out to the garage deep freezer.  I am going to control my portions and start trying to eat these fruits and veggies.  Me... the child who only ate corn and green beans as a child will expand my horizons and eat a wide rainbow of flavors and colors that I don't mind eating (I just don't love them the way I love bread).  

It's just hard for me because the love affair, the addiction, the entertainment and enjoyment of food needs to end on a daily basis.  Food is fuel, not fun.  Food sustains life, but it should not consume my life.  Food is necessary for living, but it is not supposed to be an obsession for rich and indulgent consumption each four hours.  God did not create us to be in love with our food.  We were created to need it for survival.  I need to change not only what I eat, but how I feel about food.  I need to recognize the junk I continue to put into myself at an unhealthy rate out of enjoyment not out of need.   

I am motivated.  Today I am prepared for change.  I am ready to say goodbye for awhile... (Clearly, it won't be forever, but my obsession and my view needs to change). 

Dear Bread, 
We had a good long run together.   Since I was a kid, and your warmth from the basket filled my belly with soft and flaky goodness, you have comforted me and kept me happy.  But slowly, I have started to grow and change and I don't like the person I become when we are together too much.  I have to set boundaries.  I need a break.  Our relationship is unhealthy and unbalanced.  I need to meet other foods and see what else there is out there... I know this will be hard for you as you're still in my pantry and I am not going to eat you this time.  You will spoil and get moldy, and I will throw you away if Chris doesn't consume you.  But we won't have our rendezvous three times or more a day.  I am going to the fridge and trying some new things.  It doesn't mean I don't love you and won't think of you.  But I have to do this for me.  I have to get healthy and move on with my life.  Please don't hate me.   
Love your longest and best friend....