Putting Myself in Check

On July 26, 2016, after a routine physical, I received some test results that I did not like.  At. All.  Nothing life threatening, but a wake up call for sure.  I was shocked.  I hadn’t been paying really close attention to what I’ve been eating lately and so when I got numbers from my A1C, uric acid and LDL tests that were outside of acceptable, I was like WHAT???? 

I go to the gym most every day, meditate, and eat very little meat—at least that’s what I do most often, in retrospect, lately I’ve been getting really sloppy.  These test results brought it home loud and clear.  Healthy habits won’t help if you don’t use them and you really can't eat vegan once or twice a month and whatever you want the rest of the month.  Go figure!!!

After picking my jaw up from the floor, I immediately went to the library and got books on gout, the Mediterranean diet and a new take on the Mediterranean diet the Vegiterranean diet (vegan Mediterranean) and made a commitment to eliminate red meat, ice cream, fried foods and cheese from my diet for the next 90 days.  My doctor agreed that she’d let me try diet and exercise before pushing medication.  I really didn’t want to go on any more medication than I take now.  Hypertension runs in my family--After trying to control it myself with diet and exercise, I succumbed to my DNA and took the hypertension meds—but I was adamant that I didn’t want to take any more medication.  I do believe that what’s going on with me are things that I can fix with diet and exercise—what they call “lifestyle” issues.  I’m averse to taking medications that can cause wide-ranging side effects and bad interactions with other drugs.  Not having it!!!

In thinking back, I realized that when Ted was alive, I was much more cognizant of what we ate.  I was really focused on keeping him healthy so, though we loved ice cream, we only had it once a week as a treat.  We watched the hamburgers and fried food and we were very active.  Not only did we go to the gym most days, we were always on the go to museums, parks and festivals.  Since he died, I have been cultivating the things I like to do—read, scrapbook, write—none of which really get me out and moving.  Add to that that I’ve been succumbing to the barbecue rage all around me and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.

You all know that I love a challenge so this is a challgenge to me and, as always, I will meet it head on.

*Starting August 1^st, I will:

• Eliminate red meat from my diet
• Be active each and every day – Incorporate movement into my day – Get my 10,000 Fitbit steps each day.
• Eliminate cheese, pizza, ice cream and fried foods
• Drink at least 8 glasses of water a day
• Get a minimum of 7 hours of sleep per day (I hate to tell you what little sleep this night owl gets)
• Step away from the computer every hour for at least 20 minutes – do some stretches, walk, do something active
• Do some of my computer work standing up – It is possible to do that!
• Continue my daily meditation practice and add yoga at least 5X week

Instead of keeping a food consumed diary, I’m going to keep an exception diary.  I expect that I’m going to be eating right at least 90% of the time so I will only log the times I stray, which should be very, very few. 

Eating this way and moving much more should help me take off those stubborn extra pounds I've been playing with for the last year.  The way I look at this, it's a win-win.  I develop some new habits--yes habits, that will become my new lifestyle, lose weight and get healthier as a result.  Who could ask for anything more, right?  Now, it may turn out that because of genetics, no matter what I do I still won't be able to change my numbers appreciably but I won't know if I don't try.  I like to stay on the optimistic side of things and like the little choo choo train said "I think I can, I think I can, I know I can."

I’m making myself accountable and there’s nothing that builds accountability more than shouting from the rafters, what you’re going to do, so here we go.

I’ll report in monthly and let you know how I’m doing and after my 90-day appointment, I’ll let you know the results.

Onward….

*Footnote - I know, it's already August 8th - I started on August 1st.

Where To From Here?

Once you write a book about your journey, or a portion of your journey, what’s next?  From Lemons to Lemonade is complete, poked, prodded, reworded and finally delivered into the world. So what now? 

Well, I could roll back the clock and look into other areas of my life:  I could write the story of my moving from addiction to a path of healing. I could share the tears, sadness and even funny moments of my mom’s journey through Alzheimer’s. I could talk about the absolutely hilarious year that I spent in New York City—just the stories of living in the middle of a frat house will make you spit your coffee out. I could document what’s going on in my life right now--what’s happened in the two years since Ted and Lateef died.   Or I could get out my crystal ball and peer into the future, looking for what might be coming in the future.

My gut says there’s more to be said but what and why?  Will anyone really care?  Will anyone be helped?  Why am I writing anyhow?  What is my intention? My burning desire is to help and if that translates to helping even one person, my goal will be accomplished.  I remember when I was in corporate America.  I pretty much was all about getting the job done.  I hated the intrusions of meetings, trainings and impromptu visits from my boss.  What I learned about trainings, though, was that if I learned one thing—just one thing, from a training session, I could consider the time well spent.

As I’m writing this today, I am just realizing that I use the words “I remember” quite often in my writing.  Remembering is very important to me.  I remember telling Ted how I felt about my scrapbooking hobby.  “Ted, when we’re old and gray and can’t remember anything, we’ll walk through the pages of these scrapbooks and see our life’s journey.”  I remember the feeling of loneliness as my mom was descending into the depths of Alzheimer’s—my trying to remember all of the stories of her life that she’d told me throughout my life.  Kicking myself for not thinking that those stories were important during the telling—being an impatient teenager—then young woman, wanting to get on with my life—wishing I had those moments back.

Except for a short period of time when it was all about me, I’ve always loved stories. My mom listened to story-telling radio throughout the night and Ted and I did also—My favorite podcasts today are This American Life, Snap Judgment, The Moth and Story Corps.  Everyone has a story to tell.  A life remembered is a gift. With all of it’s tears and joys—it is a gift—a chance to grow, a chance to help others.  A life remembered is a blessing.  It is a way to shed the skin of any pain experienced and morph into the beautiful butterflies we all have at our core—a way to examine our past and try to do better.   Once we’ve made peace with the past, it’s safe to remember.  A life remembered is a lesson in mindfulness because we’ve taken the time to live and relive the moments of our life—the corridors we’ve walked down.  What we do with those memories and experiences is completely up to us.  Live the same life or let our experiences change us for the better?

Have you ever visited a place and wondered about the people who lived there before?  Wondered what their stories were? I have.  Always inquisitive, I’ve been steadily upending the boulders and small rocks of my life, examining, making sense of, and reading the stories of others who have done the same.  Why?  Because there are opportunities to grow, live compassionately and give to others each and every day for the rest of the days that we are blessed to remain on this planet. 

Do you have a story to tell?  It doesn't matter if you tell it to the world or if you tell it to your journal as long as you tell it.  

So, where to next for me?  We’ll see.

100 Days of Meditation

I’ve meditated every day for the last 55 days.  My muse just threw out a thought the other day.  “Mom, do you think you could meditate for 100 days in a row?”  She didn’t challenge me to do so, but it sure sounded like a challenge to me.

I am one for a challenge.  I love them.  They motivate me, stretch me and just plain give me things to do.  From the time I was a little girl, the way to get me to do something was to tell me I couldn’t.  When a friend suggested that I wouldn’t get a job because I had no experience and no degree, I went all out and got the job.  When someone told me there’d be no way to run a marathon with the responsibilities of a husband, two children and a full time job?  Nailed it!!  Even if I had to get up at 4:30 am some mornings to get my training runs in.  Complete a 100-days of happy challenge—one that only 71% of people who start, don’t complete?  Game on!!

I’ve been focused on meditation lately.  I took a mindfulness meditation class in New York last summer and it really resonated with me.  Mindfulness meditation is a meditation practice that encourages you to pay attention to things that are happening in the moment—right now.  No small feat for a person who prides herself on her ability to multi-task. 

The mindfulness practice was good for me.  Though I couldn’t necessarily measure the difference on a daily basis, over time I felt myself slowing down, doing things more deliberately, not immediately responding to stressors thereby allowing myself to come up with a thoughtful response.  I caught myself appreciating a cloud-filled sky more often, rather than rushing around trying to dodge the ever-growing traffic. 

Things were going along swimmingly, as they say.  That is, until I hit a bump.  In the middle of a screaming match I realized that I was not even remotely using any of the skills I had learned in my meditation practice.  In this instance I was right, and I knew it, but there was no way my message could possibly be received at the decibel level I was delivering it!  For emphasis, I was banging my fist on my granite counter top.  I couldn’t believe it.  I never reacted like that.  As I watched this drama play out, I was ashamed of my behavior.  I had just proverbially lost my s**t!

Fast forward—conversation over—nothing accomplished except that I had made my point.  I stewed over what had just happened for several hours with the end result being that I felt I needed to apologize for my behavior—not for the message but for the mess I’d made of delivering it.

I called the family member involved and apologized.  She told me that I didn’t need to and that she was all right with everything that had happened.  I told her that I was not all right with it—that I was on a spiritual walk and expected better of myself.  In a calm tone, I delivered the message I wish I’d delivered to her the first time.  No yelling, no screaming, no hurting my hand on my counter top.

When our conversation was over, I felt better.  When I behave in a way that is unacceptable to me, my load gets heavier.  I made a promise to myself after Ted and Lateef died.  The promise was that I would live each day as if it were my last.  Something happens when you know that you’re dying.  It’s time to fix things—it’s time to make amends.  Something also happens when you lose someone you love.  For me, that something equates to living the best, most authentic life that I can—a life that my loved ones would be proud of—a life of no regrets.  No regrets might be thinking about what I’m going to say before I say it or it might mean cleaning up after myself after a messy interaction.   Acting like a Tasmanian Devil or a screaming banshee is not authentic—it is not who I am.  So I cleaned up my mess and moved on.

One of the skills I learned in my mindfulness meditation was how to react to stressors. It’s really easy to react to stressors without even thinking—it takes control and awareness to take a moment, breathe and respond appropriately.   Eventually I’ll catch myself before I go over the cliff—but if I don’t, as I didn’t in my screaming match with my family member, I can clean it up, move on, and learn from the experience.  Perhaps I’ll catch myself next time, respond appropriately and have nothing to clean up.

Yes, this life is really a journey and with each day I get an opportunity to behave better, do better, be better. 

I’ll be checking in with you all periodically on this challenge of 100 days of meditation that might turn into 365 days, who knows?

What Makes You Happy?

On many mornings, Ted and I would sit on our screened-in back porch, sipping coffee and reading to each other from The Geography of Bliss—a great book written by Eric Weiner, a foreign correspondent for NPR.

What makes people happy?  Is it truly an inside job?  Do some places support happiness better than others? 

We didn’t read from this book every day but whenever we had some downtime, one or the other of us would pick the book up on our way out to the porch.  Sometimes he’d read, sometimes I’d read.

We read about the author’s travels and thoughts.  He’d traveled to India, where he found happiness and misery living side by side.  Bhutan, where the king made Gross National Happiness a national priority.  Switzerland, where residents believe envy is the great enemy of happiness.  During his tenure at NPR he visited over 30 countries.

The book ends with the author talking to a bartender whose name is?  Wait for it…Happy.  The bartender related that his father was so happy when his son was born that he named him Happy.  When asked the secret to being Happy, the bartender said, “Just keep on smiling.  Even when you’re sad.  Keep on smiling.”  Pretty simple, huh?  Simple but not always easy.  It reminds me of something I learned in my mindfulness meditation study.  “When you’re hungry, eat.  When you’re tired, sleep.”  A simple reminder to us that we are many times so unaware of what our body needs that we just keep barreling on, not noticing something that is so very simple.

He ends with this quote:  “Money matters, but less than we think and not in the way that we think. Family is important. So are friends.  Envy is toxic. So is excessive thinking. Beaches are optional. Trust is not. Neither is gratitude.”  I like that.