Daydreaming

This morning, I woke up from a very bad dream. The book states that I need to be “in the moment” and experience the feelings as they come—look at them—ask myself what they really are—and then move on..But I simply couldn’t. There are a lot of things that I am having anxiety about right now:

1. A major project I am working on in my spare time—of which I have none.

2. My daughter is starting yet another new school this year. I have mixed emotions about this. She struggles, and homeschooling may just be the right thing for a girl like her. But we don’t have the means (and by means, I mean patience) to do that which makes me feel guilty.

3. Our plans to go to Maui during the holidays were drastically moved up and now I am still overweight…and I will be in the photos…and that saddens me beyond belief.

4. I’m working through being deeply hurt by someone close to me.

5. My first 5k is August 28 and I can’t even run continuously for a mile yet.

So, a lot of shit is flowing. Last night, I ran so hard that I literally thought my heart would explode. And when I run, all of these thoughts get swirled up into my brain like a tsunami. They keep crashing into my brain and leave me with bits and pieces. When it comes to emotions—I’m a hoarder. I just pick them up and put them back on the shelf instead of throwing them out—(oooooh---that is my AHA! moment of the day.)

Anyways, although I slept well, I had a nightmare. It was one of those dreams that morph into your shadow and follows you all day--the remnants of this dream are all around me. And maybe that is exactly what happens.

One time, when Daisy was maybe five, she was asleep in our bed. I went to wake her up and she just smiled. She had her eyes closed and said “I’m still dreaming momma—can you see it?” I said “No...only you can see your dreams.” She reached her hand in the air, eyes still closed tightly and grabbed the air.. “Here mommy, can you see it now?” I didn’t lie to her. “No baby, I can’t see your dreams.” She then fluttered her eyes open, and was looking at the air above her head “There it goes! Bye-bye dream. Hi Mommy!” She then proceeded to tell me about her magical dream which included stars and glitter and unicorns…of course.

Today, I wish I could have done the same thing, but as adults, we don’t just leave our dreams behind. Maybe we are supposed to use them as tools to work through a problem or issue. But like most tools, they just sit around and collect dust until a major shift in the earth happens, and then it’s our time to decide what to do with the aftermath. I store them for later.

Thanks to this book, I have recognized this as a trigger. I had every intention of fighting the “obsession.” So I got up early. I showered and tried to wash off the damn dream. I got dressed, made my coffee and packed my workout clothes in my bag so that I could life weights at lunch. My intentions were good. I was going to deal with the pain of this dream with a good lunchtime workout. And then, I left the house, knowing that my bag was on my dresser and I proceeded to drive to McDonald’s.

What-The-Eff?

Even as I drove to work, I tried to remind myself that another person’s actions can’t possibly ruin the path I am on unless I let them. Just because someone wants to be a selfish asshole—it really has NOTHING to do with me—it’s their path, their mistake, their consequence. I really have nothing to do with the decisions they make. But, as I ordered my McDonalds breakfast, I almost started crying as I knew that I had succumbed to my obsessive thoughts. They won. Just like they have my entire life. THIS is emotional eating.

This is a major realization. As I talked myself out of sabotaging my work thus far, I did the opposite—made my problems disappear with the old comfort-food feeling of fullness. Although I feel worse now than I did three hours ago when I woke up. Did you hear that BRAIN? I feel like SHIT!

So why not kick myself while I’m down? I looked up Micky Deez’ nutritional value http://nutrition.mcdonalds.com/nutritionexchange/nutritionfacts.pdf -- and realized I had consumed a whopping 600 calories. That is going to ruin my entire day and digestion. Which is lame because I have a freaking digestive disease and eating the wrong foods—in this case, fake food laden with preservatives and sugar—could put me in the hospital.

Anyone who thinks food isn’t a drug is an idiot. Only the addiction to a powerful drug would have won today.

I think I am seeing my old patterns:

• I know that since I’m not going to be at goal weight for Hawaii—why even try now?

• If I can’t run a mile now, what makes me think I will be able to run it a month from now during the race?

• I know that I will most likely not cut this person from my life—although they totally deserve it—I will continue to give them more chances.

I suppose I am a little happy that even though I lost to the obsession today, I looked at it for what it was instead of bolting.

It’s 9:30 a.m. I realize that I can only take baby steps today. The rest of my day will be filled with better meal decisions. I will have a salad at lunch and an apple in the afternoon followed by a salad for dinner. I am working out today—lifting weights—which beats the hell out of binge eating frosting and cake, right? Right. Oh great…someone just brought in doughnuts—of course.

Did I eat one? Find out next week….

Maui Christmas? Nope.

So, this is supposed to be the blog where I lose weight in preparation for my trip to Maui. You know, my big goal—my weight loss treat—my 10-yr wedding anniversary—the driving factor in taking this journey into weight loss.

Now I get to tell you how it has been diverted by my ambitious husband’s desire to get an education. Pfffft... Stupid Worker’s Compensation.

Let me tell you this—be safe at work. Don’t ever get injured while on the job. You will become royally effed and it will last for YEARS people.

This trip has been set back due to the fact that the workers comp insurance company FINALLY gave us the education voucher---YAY! But his schooling starts at the end of September --- WHAAA? Therefore, our trip will most likely be at the beginning of September where my body won’t be anywhere near where I wanted it to be--BOOOOO WHAHHHHHHH!

As I type this, I realize how ridiculous I sound, bitching about visiting Maui. Not bitching that I can’t go. I am crying about my weight and the fact that I will probably be about 20 lbs from where I had intended to be during our trip.

WHAHH! Poor me. Crying about being overweight in Maui. Whateva!

Now, mind you, we have been steadily saving for this trip for over a year. We have it all planned out. But the universe doesn’t hear dates or times; it hears wants, desires and wishes—so, be careful what you wish for. Needless to say, that day when I said “it would be so cool to go to Maui on Daisy’s birthday”—is going to happen. What other 11-year old gets to goto Hawaii for her 11th birthday? Well, not ours....we are very adamant about telling her it’s a coincidence, not her present.

Sure, we could go a month later, at Christmas time—but that would be about $700 more PER PERSON. It’s not in the budget.

So whahha, I have to goto Maui early. What's good is that I am looking forward to running on the beaches, hiking in the hills and walking along the road to Hana as we take in the scenery….maybe I’ll lose weight while we are there…only time will tell!

On another note—I had one of the best weeks ever for my heart and soul. I got to perform with my girls—The Real Housewives of Rio Linda—in my hometown of San Jose at the Improv. Reading my blog this morning made me realize that it’s nights like that when God or Buddah or the Universe show you what life is all about. Family, Friends, Love and GOOD times. I got to reconnect—in person, not online—with some of my most amazing and dear friends and I will always remember that night. Time is priceless. Hawaii ain’t shit compared to time spent with the people you love.

Have a great week!

Out of the Mouth of My Babe

WASSSSUP!!
This week's blog is short and sweet-like me. My weekly update follows this entry. While going through some old copywriting materials, I came across this story that I wrote in 2006. It's a good one, so I want to share. And yes, it's a true story.

I’m a stand up comedienne. For days before a show, I prepare a set of material that will entertain people for ten minutes at a time. But there is nothing I can write that is as hilarious than the words that come out of my daughter’s mouth at the most awkward times.

The other day, we were about to purchase a few snacks from our local convenient store. As we stood in line, I noticed my six-year-old daughter’s attention was directed at the man behind the counter. There stood an attractive, Middle Eastern man, probably in his early 50’s, wearing a turban. Knowing that my daughter has just finished a lesson in school about different ethnicities, I instantly froze. What was she about to say? It was like I was about to witness an accident, but had no way of telling the man to watch out. I tried to divert my daughter’s attention to pink gum, a candy bar, anything that would stop her from whatever she was about to say…. but then it happened.

I saw my daughters’ little arm rise above her head. With her index finger pointed to her crown, she made a swirling motion as if she was preparing to spin herself around like a top – and then she spoke. Loud and clear, her little voice said “Mommy, does the guy with the funny hat speak French?”

As the folks in line behind us laughed out loud, my face turned red. My lips puckered, my heart sank. Part of me laughed hysterically at the innocence of her question, but my thoughts scrambled for an answer. Within two seconds, I came up with three solutions, as only a mom can do. First, I can tell the truth and say “No,” and this conversation will certainly take a turn for the worse. Next, I can say “Yes” and potentially silence her for at least enough time to pay for our snacks, and make a mad dash to the car, where I can then call my best friend and ask her to explain her heritage, and the reasons why this man, like her father, wears the symbolic turban. Or last, I can make eye contact with the gentleman and hope for an appreciative look from a man who surely has children, a father who would forgive her naive question and allow me off the uncomfortable hook that I am hanging on…I chose the latter.

As I peeled my embarrassed eyes off my sweet girl, I gave the man my best “Oh-I-am-so-embarrassed- kids-say-the-craziest-things” look. The man smiled and winked, as if to forgive me. I smiled and apologized for the uncomfortable encounter. But, from the corner of my eye, I could tell that my daughter was still occupied with the man’s turban. So in my softest voice, I leaned toward my daughter and muttered the words “Yes, he speaks French, now let’s pay for our things, and go home.”

I’d like to tell you that it stopped there, and it should have, but my daughter was still fully focused on the man’s head. Like a volcano about to erupt, I swear I could see the little words in her brain shuffle into a line that would inevitably produce another uncomfortable inquiry. Before she could utter another word, I gave her my keys, and told her to walk to the window and press the button to unlock mommy’s doors. She took the keys, and turned to leave, and I was finally relieved.…Or am I?

As I thanked the understanding man for my change, apologized to him for the third time, and pick up my bag, I turned to my daughter who is about five feet away from me. I motioned her to follow me out, and as we leave the store, her little voice shouts back at the man, “I like your funny hat! Bye!”

My embarrassment is equal to a show-up-naked-at-the-mall dream.

As I look back and give him yet another apology look, he shouts back at her “Thank you, Bonjour.”

It's Really Happening

In 2006, I thought I was motivated. I was going to do this.

I was.

Really.

SO-- I bought these pants....and they were my goal pants. The cute ones that I would get into when I was feeling good enough and looking thin enough to wear light beige pants without my cottage cheese thighs poking through.

I never wore them.

Until today.

SUCCESS is so sweet. TOOT TOOT.

Independence Daze

My new favorite book is pissing me off. Not because it’s boring or lame or didn’t take the garbage out when I asked (which means NOWWW)—but because it’s working. It’s a complete mind-eff word. When I get anxious and I begin to take the long walk into the kitchen where any type of sweet cake, carb or cookie can shut my brain off within 30 seconds—I now stop. I focus. I ask myself—What am I feeling? What is this?

The book clearly states that whatever feeling is seeping into my thoughts must not only be addressed, but faced, visited, felt and then I need to realize that by visiting these memories or feelings, it’s not so bad after all.

The book says that when we eat, we are avoiding the potential pain that we anticipate feeling if we were ever to visit that memory and look it in the eye. The book states that if we practice this way of thinking, if we face the feeling or memory, we will begin to see that it’s just a memory. That’s all. It’s never going to hurt me, scare me or intimidate me again. I am an adult and you know what? It wasn’t as bad as I thought.

Stupid book…all making sense and stuff. Pfffftttt….

So yeah, it’s actually working—but not without consequences. Sometimes there is anger in the feeling. Sometimes there is sadness. Sometimes there are answers in those feelings or memories. But most of the time, I find out that I have given the source too much energy. This is where I am a little stuck because I need to let it go—out of my brain, and not into my tummy, onto my thights or create another double chin.

Last week, a good friend told me, a crisis is like a landmine. One moment, you’re walking around just fine, and then BOOM, out of nowhere—a song, a smell, a memory will bring you face to face with the feelings. These landmines are so easy to silence with food. However, this book tells me to face it. Look at it. Visit it. My brain tells me to eat it. Make nachos. Buy frosting. It’s easier to eat it.

Working through things can be a little bit of an emotional overhaul. But to not visit the memories means that I am not dealing with raw emotions—and why should I when there’s white cake with white frosting? Because to not visit these memories and reconcile them within my heart would be sabotaging my health. If I am unhealthy, I am not being my true self and therefore, I am not showing up for the ones I live with or live for. That is something I am not willing to do.

Perhaps my landmine is The fourth of July. This year will mark five years for us. Five years when both careers took a sharp turn. Five years where business divided friendships. Five years of catastrophic financial struggles. Five years of watching the man I love lose it all—including his career, his backbones, his brawn and then some.

And so, instead of eating, I choose to run.

Doing this work is not easy. It’s exhausting. These feelings, these memories need to be addressed so I can move on. As I look at these five years in the eye—I am really feeling it. It hurts. Still. And that is OK. It's life. We have our limbs, our health and a roof over our head. And, it's going continue to be ok because from it, we have evolved.

So this year, I want to remember the past five years for all the positive things we have experienced. It's been five years that I have been present for my life, my hubby and our child. Five years that I have reconnected with my cousins in Arizona (and seen them four times)! Five years where we have watched our daughter blossom into a beautiful young woman. Five years where we have found the best date nights are free. Five years of learning how to be vulnerable, live honestly, communicate often and love unconditionally. For these things, I am forever grateful.

I am paraphrasing, but the book says: It happened. You can’t change it. You’re an adult. Move on.

And this is me—trying to move onto the future instead of into obesity. So far, so good.

Have a happy 4th of July!