The Chit-Chat Cafe. Quite a spunky little name for a spunky little coffee joint. It is located quite literally in a small "corner" of the world.
Imagine driving through busy, thriving San Francisco. Imagine finding a small stretch of road comprising part of what I think is the most beautiful highway in the world, the California Highway 1, the coastal highway. The city falls away to reveal beautiful rolling hills, then suddenly, the Pacific Ocean.
Today we stumbled once again into Pacifica, California. It is located a few miles south and west of San Francisco, and is on the route of a round-a-bout way to get back to Palo Alto from the City of Bridges.
We stopped in Old Pacifica, with it's crab-fishing pier, City Hall, a foggy windy boardwalk, and a little spunky coffee place called the Chit-Chat Cafe.
Now anyone who knows me knows I'm not much for chit-chat. Never have been, never will be. I lack that certain ease with small-talk than most of the population of, say, the WORLD, possesses. Me? No. Give me politics, give me crisis situations, give me philosophy, or faith. Give me a problem to solve, but heavens to Bessie don't make me stand in a room full of strangers for any period of time and expect me to socialize.
The Chit-Chat Cafe. Dave, Julian and I got a bowl of Clam Chowder, "The Best in Pacifica!" a slice of lemon cake, and some lattes, and sat in a small booth for awhile. We had brought along Julian's loaf of Boudin Bread (he LOVES San Francisco Sourdough!) and butter, and a small jar of blueberry granola for him. We sat happily munching our food, and looking out at the "MAX TWO LINES PER PERSON" signs emblazoned on the pier in various spots. There were about 20 people on the pier, catching their dinner. Mostly crabs. I guess there is a "Five-Inch" rule, and we watched one happy crab who was tossed back in scamper into the depths at lightening speed...all for being "four and a half" inches long. It was his lucky day.
Julian's favorite thing to do today was watch the waves come in and out, and dash on the beach and rocks. We have about 3 minutes of video of him laughing and smiling with glee, singing the whole time, watching the waves come in and out there on that little pier in Pacifica. Good times. It seems we all love the ocean.
The Chit-Chat Cafe. If someone were to come chit-chat with me, this is what they would hear....
"Why yes, I'm doing fine thank you...my son is having a kidney transplant in approximately 10 days.....What?....Oh, yes, I'm rather petrified actually.....Oh, certainly I have faith....I have faith that God's will will be done.....Yes, I know he loves us....I just don't know exactly how He will express that love in our lives and Julian's life exactly....yes, the not knowing is hard....yes, yes, I know He loves us and works all things for the good of those who are in Christ Jesus, thank you....but would you mind spelling that out in advance?....I mean, what that exactly will look like in the next few weeks?....Oh, you can't?....Yes, yes I trust Him....but I don't want Him to decide that taking my precious son to be with Him will be what His will is....not now...I want more time....Julian is my most precious little angel....I want him here with me....I'm his mother...surely God understands that....surely He knows that the desire of my heart is to love and raise Julian in the fear and understanding of the Lord...surely He'll let me do that...."
So you see, there really is no small talk or Chit-Chat with me right now. I'm in it, in the thick of it, the heat of it, and it is rather ironic that our little corner of the world, our most favorite place today, was the Chit-Chat Cafe.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
And yet another....restart.
Wow. Yet another restart. What is different this time? Nothing. It is the same struggle. The same decisions. The same tension that settles in when I'm on program. It's like there's a magnet in my brain toward self-sabatoge. The longer I can resist the tension, the more days I am successful without giving in to the pressure. I think it's about striking a balance and living with an acceptable level of tension...and being ok with it. I decide what I put in my mouth. And when I default to junk I am deciding to do that. Is it an indicator of self-loathing? Maybe...but I gotta get through it. I have no reason to loathe myself. I'm not a horrible person.
So...here goes! Day One! Success is mine for the taking.
So...here goes! Day One! Success is mine for the taking.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
A Few Words from Epictetus....
I remember Riverpoet posting that quote once on her blog, and I don't think she had any idea what a profound impact it would have on my thinking. Anyone who has followed my progress for any amount of time knows my story, knows that I was wildly successful on MF and lost 136 lbs in 14 months. Then you know that I gained about 25 pounds after becoming pregnant (subsequent miscarriage)...and then I let an "under-the-surface" bout with depression drive me into gaining about 14 more pounds...
It was a quick almost 40 lb gain. It seemed so quick because I seemed to be in a carb coma, self-induced, throughout the process. It's like I could SEE the fat re-filling my fat cells...and I didn't care. I lost the vision of What It Was That I Wanted To Be, and in losing the vision I lost the drive and the motivation to keep myself up, so to speak.
Well, as in the endless stories of drug addicts or alcoholics who wake up on the other side of a weeklong, monthlong, or yearlong "binge" to find they are exactly who they DIDN'T want to be and who they FOUGHT not being for a long time ... but found they suffered a relapse..I think I can officially say I relapsed and am "clean" again. "Sober" from carbs.
It's a battle. It's a battle to find something that truly works, invest so much time and energy into it, be so committed for so long and then fool myself into believing that because I was thin that my body would respond like a thin person, ie I could eat what I wanted without suffering too many adverse consequences while I went about the self-destructive minset of NOT CARING. NEGLECTING myself. NEGLECTING my basic needs, which are to be mindful of what I eat. NO. The 40 lbs creeped on. It was always "I did it once, I'll start again tomorrow"...but tomorrow never came. Or tomorrow DID come, and I found I was 100% on until it got dark and the Pita Chip monster came a-callin'.
Well, I'm happy to report that I went for a run yesterday, I'm going for a run in a few minutes, and my body is beginning to respond positively to the "inputs" I'm giving it, ie proper MF nutrition and portions, as well as excercise and water. Yesterday I ran 2 miles. Today I will run 2 miles. That's just how it will be. I don't care how I feel. I'm done feeling sorry for myself. I'm done trying to subconsciously (perhaps?) punish myself for losing the baby. It wasn't my fault. I know that, I've always known that. And I don't have to do any penance for it.
I've been 100% for a week and a half now, and have plateaud out at about 156. I will keep at it, keep strong, keep motivated, as my goal of 118 has not changed. I would like to be under 145 when we move to Phoenix in 28 days. I just would. I believe I can do that.
As Epictetus said, we must provide the "cause" toward what "effect" we would like to see. A dear Bible School Teacher of mine used to say "So you are now, Then you will be." Am I lazy? Undisciplined? Irresponsible? Do I expect someone to come along and wave a magic wand to change me so that in the future I will be Disciplined, Responsible, with a body that reflects THOSE attributes instead of a body that reflects my lazy undisciplined self? Well, So you are now, Then you will be. You want to see real change? (I'm talking to myself here...) Then BE the change you want to see. If you don't do it, no one will do it for you.
With that said, I'm strappin' on my runnin' shoes and heading out the door.
Have a great Sunday, you all.
It was a quick almost 40 lb gain. It seemed so quick because I seemed to be in a carb coma, self-induced, throughout the process. It's like I could SEE the fat re-filling my fat cells...and I didn't care. I lost the vision of What It Was That I Wanted To Be, and in losing the vision I lost the drive and the motivation to keep myself up, so to speak.
Well, as in the endless stories of drug addicts or alcoholics who wake up on the other side of a weeklong, monthlong, or yearlong "binge" to find they are exactly who they DIDN'T want to be and who they FOUGHT not being for a long time ... but found they suffered a relapse..I think I can officially say I relapsed and am "clean" again. "Sober" from carbs.
It's a battle. It's a battle to find something that truly works, invest so much time and energy into it, be so committed for so long and then fool myself into believing that because I was thin that my body would respond like a thin person, ie I could eat what I wanted without suffering too many adverse consequences while I went about the self-destructive minset of NOT CARING. NEGLECTING myself. NEGLECTING my basic needs, which are to be mindful of what I eat. NO. The 40 lbs creeped on. It was always "I did it once, I'll start again tomorrow"...but tomorrow never came. Or tomorrow DID come, and I found I was 100% on until it got dark and the Pita Chip monster came a-callin'.
Well, I'm happy to report that I went for a run yesterday, I'm going for a run in a few minutes, and my body is beginning to respond positively to the "inputs" I'm giving it, ie proper MF nutrition and portions, as well as excercise and water. Yesterday I ran 2 miles. Today I will run 2 miles. That's just how it will be. I don't care how I feel. I'm done feeling sorry for myself. I'm done trying to subconsciously (perhaps?) punish myself for losing the baby. It wasn't my fault. I know that, I've always known that. And I don't have to do any penance for it.
I've been 100% for a week and a half now, and have plateaud out at about 156. I will keep at it, keep strong, keep motivated, as my goal of 118 has not changed. I would like to be under 145 when we move to Phoenix in 28 days. I just would. I believe I can do that.
As Epictetus said, we must provide the "cause" toward what "effect" we would like to see. A dear Bible School Teacher of mine used to say "So you are now, Then you will be." Am I lazy? Undisciplined? Irresponsible? Do I expect someone to come along and wave a magic wand to change me so that in the future I will be Disciplined, Responsible, with a body that reflects THOSE attributes instead of a body that reflects my lazy undisciplined self? Well, So you are now, Then you will be. You want to see real change? (I'm talking to myself here...) Then BE the change you want to see. If you don't do it, no one will do it for you.
With that said, I'm strappin' on my runnin' shoes and heading out the door.
Have a great Sunday, you all.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Day 1 of my Re-re-re-start.......
Yes, I must say I am back to Day 1 of my re-re-re-re-fill-in-the-blanks-commit. The day I give up is the day I balloon back up to 266, or higher. I will not allow it.
I have this pair of jeans, size 4, that I keep as a barometer. When I am spilling out of them and threatening to break down and get a pair of size 6's, is usually the day before I re-start Medifast. I refuse to go UP in jean size to accomodate my lack of self-control when I go carb-crazy for a few days.
For anyone who doesn't know my story, and I'm sure there are many of you out there, I started at 266 lbs. On a 5 foot 2 1/2 inch frame, that is plenty-lots. Well past the obese/morbidly obese threshold. Couldn't get health insurance. Forget about life insurance. Achey knees, achey back, achey feet, 36 but looked 46 type thing. Wore size 26 jeans. Could barely fit behind the wheel of my volvo stationwagon. Had a hard time carrying my infant son to the changing table without becoming out of breath. Forget flying. Forget running, skiing, playing with my son on the floor, all of that. I had checked out of life in that way. My only joy was my son. He was my reason, my motivation to finally get the weight off.
And I did. All the way to 130. Ran a half-marathon. Felt great. Was a size 2. Heck, I even grew a full inch to 5 foot 3 1/2, because my spine was not compressed with 136 extra pounds of fat. It was wonderful. Got health insurance. Got life insurance (million dollor policy, baby! Super-preferred rate!). Then I got pregnant, had a miscarriage, and have found it difficult to do this for ME again. But I'm convinced that one of these re-starts, hopefully THIS one, it will all click again and I'll be headed back down to my goal weight of 118.
I pray it is this time. I hate going through the 3 days again and again. I realize that it is fully within my power to make it work, that everything is a choice, is about how badly I want it. I realize that eating off program just signals that I don't want the goal as much as I want the temporary instant gratification that the food will bring. The (artificial) momentary release from the pressures of life. A food junkie, looking for the next fix. Do I have an eating disorder? Clinically, no. Technically, no. Textbook definition, no. But I do believe I could have eating disorder leanings, and that I exist somewhere in between "normal" attitudes on food and "EDNOS" (Eating disorder not otherwise specified) attitudes on food.
So! It is time to invest in my "recovery" from my "almost" eating disorder! Here we go! Again!
I have this pair of jeans, size 4, that I keep as a barometer. When I am spilling out of them and threatening to break down and get a pair of size 6's, is usually the day before I re-start Medifast. I refuse to go UP in jean size to accomodate my lack of self-control when I go carb-crazy for a few days.
For anyone who doesn't know my story, and I'm sure there are many of you out there, I started at 266 lbs. On a 5 foot 2 1/2 inch frame, that is plenty-lots. Well past the obese/morbidly obese threshold. Couldn't get health insurance. Forget about life insurance. Achey knees, achey back, achey feet, 36 but looked 46 type thing. Wore size 26 jeans. Could barely fit behind the wheel of my volvo stationwagon. Had a hard time carrying my infant son to the changing table without becoming out of breath. Forget flying. Forget running, skiing, playing with my son on the floor, all of that. I had checked out of life in that way. My only joy was my son. He was my reason, my motivation to finally get the weight off.
And I did. All the way to 130. Ran a half-marathon. Felt great. Was a size 2. Heck, I even grew a full inch to 5 foot 3 1/2, because my spine was not compressed with 136 extra pounds of fat. It was wonderful. Got health insurance. Got life insurance (million dollor policy, baby! Super-preferred rate!). Then I got pregnant, had a miscarriage, and have found it difficult to do this for ME again. But I'm convinced that one of these re-starts, hopefully THIS one, it will all click again and I'll be headed back down to my goal weight of 118.
I pray it is this time. I hate going through the 3 days again and again. I realize that it is fully within my power to make it work, that everything is a choice, is about how badly I want it. I realize that eating off program just signals that I don't want the goal as much as I want the temporary instant gratification that the food will bring. The (artificial) momentary release from the pressures of life. A food junkie, looking for the next fix. Do I have an eating disorder? Clinically, no. Technically, no. Textbook definition, no. But I do believe I could have eating disorder leanings, and that I exist somewhere in between "normal" attitudes on food and "EDNOS" (Eating disorder not otherwise specified) attitudes on food.
So! It is time to invest in my "recovery" from my "almost" eating disorder! Here we go! Again!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Day 5 of Restart
It is, indeed, day 5 of my restart. I'm looking at a gorgeous Bluejay out my front window. I will indeed miss this house, this yard, this view, this stage of my life. Now there is a speckled woodpecker with a black bib and red beautiful cheeks. He is brown, with black speckles on his chest and tail, and brown stripes across his beautiful winged back. He is diving in the leaves for insects, and is no more than 9 feet away from my eyeballs. His lower cheeks are more fuscia than red. Absolutely gorgeous. Wow, was that a sidetrack or what?
When we get to Gilbert I am going to need to really buckle down and establish a running route and pattern. Here, too, but I am doing that right now. Did 1/2 mile yesterday, just to take myself out for a "test run" to make sure nothing was mis-aligned, or sore, or creaky. Everything seemed to work fine, and I'm looking forward to my 3-miler today.
I feel anxious about the move, the sale of the house, the actual move (physically packing up 7 years of life and carting it across the country!), and about Julian's appointment with Palo Alto for the Non-Steroid transplant protocol transplant evaluation at the end of January. But I have been getting into the Word more. It's like God just wants to talk to me, and he uses His Word to do it...I just need to listen more.
I was journalling this morning, and realized I was asking God for a ton! At the end of it, I asked Him if there was anything I could do for Him. Still waiting on that one. But what I asked of him were the following:
1) Sell our house
2) Move us to Gilbert
3) Get us on the Palo Alto transplant list
4) Allow me to reach my goal of 118 lbs
5) Grow Julian up big and strong
6) Settle my heart (new request)
7) Help me organize myself and my finances
8) Draw me closer to Him (without anyone having to die or anything like that! No trauma, please!)
Sometimes I feel like if I get too close to God He will increase my difficulties. And I don't want increased difficulties. Does that make sense? I just have to trust that He's not a God who does that. He wants to be my refuge, not my troublemaker.
I'm my own troublemaker.
Ok, back to my weight as this is primarily my weight-loss blog....was 152 this morning. Looking forward to getting under 150 again for the LAST time. I kept my Levi's 515 size 2 Petite's out so that I can keep trying them on as my "goal jeans". I haven't dared try them on since September, and don't intend on doing so until I'm atleast down below 130. I'm actually a tiny person, bone-structure wise. While I don't want to become anorexic, I do want to be in shape. Small and in shape.
Ok, that's enough for today.
When we get to Gilbert I am going to need to really buckle down and establish a running route and pattern. Here, too, but I am doing that right now. Did 1/2 mile yesterday, just to take myself out for a "test run" to make sure nothing was mis-aligned, or sore, or creaky. Everything seemed to work fine, and I'm looking forward to my 3-miler today.
I feel anxious about the move, the sale of the house, the actual move (physically packing up 7 years of life and carting it across the country!), and about Julian's appointment with Palo Alto for the Non-Steroid transplant protocol transplant evaluation at the end of January. But I have been getting into the Word more. It's like God just wants to talk to me, and he uses His Word to do it...I just need to listen more.
I was journalling this morning, and realized I was asking God for a ton! At the end of it, I asked Him if there was anything I could do for Him. Still waiting on that one. But what I asked of him were the following:
1) Sell our house
2) Move us to Gilbert
3) Get us on the Palo Alto transplant list
4) Allow me to reach my goal of 118 lbs
5) Grow Julian up big and strong
6) Settle my heart (new request)
7) Help me organize myself and my finances
8) Draw me closer to Him (without anyone having to die or anything like that! No trauma, please!)
Sometimes I feel like if I get too close to God He will increase my difficulties. And I don't want increased difficulties. Does that make sense? I just have to trust that He's not a God who does that. He wants to be my refuge, not my troublemaker.
I'm my own troublemaker.
Ok, back to my weight as this is primarily my weight-loss blog....was 152 this morning. Looking forward to getting under 150 again for the LAST time. I kept my Levi's 515 size 2 Petite's out so that I can keep trying them on as my "goal jeans". I haven't dared try them on since September, and don't intend on doing so until I'm atleast down below 130. I'm actually a tiny person, bone-structure wise. While I don't want to become anorexic, I do want to be in shape. Small and in shape.
Ok, that's enough for today.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
What a Fall!
This last couple months has been a flurry and a whirlwind of activity and trips and procedures and I am exhausted. God works in amazing ways, and sometimes not in ways we expect. The last entry I posted was before we headed to Boston. Not surprising, as that is about when I feel like I was last in control of my weight loss, and this is primarily my weight loss/maintenance blog.
Stress is a huge factor in whether I am "out of control" and not really caring about my weight, and when I am. This last 3 months have been little BUT stress.
The Boston trip was good...saw some old friends, had a visit with the Doctors at Boston Children's Hospital. They are of the opinion that Julian definately needs a transplant, but that if we can forestall Dialysis then that would be fine. So what do we do? Come home and put him on Dialysis! Why? Because his creatinine inched up into the 5's, and his PTH remained super-high in the 1200's-1400's.
But, Julian hasn't been the same since we did that. His demeanor changed. He is more timid, less able to be without his Momma. His appetite has decreased, and we have been unable to successfully do dialysis anyway because his catheter continues to migrate up into his upper abdomen. On Monday Dr. Ford spoke of a "surgical solution" and Dave and I decided that if his labs were good and the doctors needed to do surgery to correct the catheter placement, that we would simply take it out. So, we are taking it out as soon as the surgery can be scheduled. And we are relieved.
I was reading on Sunday, my "normal" reading which has been far from routine this fall, brought me to Genesis, and the account of Noah and the flood. It rained for 40 days. I counted back what 40 days would look like from the date he got the catheter surgically placed, and realized that 40 days was over on the next day, Monday. I prayed the Lord to have it stop raining. I believe He answered me with Julian's good labs and the fact that we couldn't continue Dialysis training. I believe God will sustain Julian's kidneys until he gets his transplant. I believe it. He has so far, and Julian is still stable. His creatinine was in the low 4's, and it was wonderful.
Lots is happening in our lives. We have decided to blow this popsicle stand and get back to Phoenix. Family, friends, everyone who is important to us, most of them live in Arizona. We can be out of debt entirely and live in a house we can actually afford. I'm thrilled. I can't wait. Please, Lord, sell this house!
I am so excited to get to Phoenix, and spend some good time with my Mom. The Hospice Doctor does not think she will last another 3 months, so hopefully we will be moved out there before she passes, and she can see us and Julian again.
Lord, let it be so.
I booked a trip to Disneyland in May, for Dave's birthday. Of course we will be staying at Disney's Grand Californian, and I requested room 5417. We love that room.
Well, I'm off to put away the dishes and straighten up my house. No more living in a sty.
Stress is a huge factor in whether I am "out of control" and not really caring about my weight, and when I am. This last 3 months have been little BUT stress.
The Boston trip was good...saw some old friends, had a visit with the Doctors at Boston Children's Hospital. They are of the opinion that Julian definately needs a transplant, but that if we can forestall Dialysis then that would be fine. So what do we do? Come home and put him on Dialysis! Why? Because his creatinine inched up into the 5's, and his PTH remained super-high in the 1200's-1400's.
But, Julian hasn't been the same since we did that. His demeanor changed. He is more timid, less able to be without his Momma. His appetite has decreased, and we have been unable to successfully do dialysis anyway because his catheter continues to migrate up into his upper abdomen. On Monday Dr. Ford spoke of a "surgical solution" and Dave and I decided that if his labs were good and the doctors needed to do surgery to correct the catheter placement, that we would simply take it out. So, we are taking it out as soon as the surgery can be scheduled. And we are relieved.
I was reading on Sunday, my "normal" reading which has been far from routine this fall, brought me to Genesis, and the account of Noah and the flood. It rained for 40 days. I counted back what 40 days would look like from the date he got the catheter surgically placed, and realized that 40 days was over on the next day, Monday. I prayed the Lord to have it stop raining. I believe He answered me with Julian's good labs and the fact that we couldn't continue Dialysis training. I believe God will sustain Julian's kidneys until he gets his transplant. I believe it. He has so far, and Julian is still stable. His creatinine was in the low 4's, and it was wonderful.
Lots is happening in our lives. We have decided to blow this popsicle stand and get back to Phoenix. Family, friends, everyone who is important to us, most of them live in Arizona. We can be out of debt entirely and live in a house we can actually afford. I'm thrilled. I can't wait. Please, Lord, sell this house!
I am so excited to get to Phoenix, and spend some good time with my Mom. The Hospice Doctor does not think she will last another 3 months, so hopefully we will be moved out there before she passes, and she can see us and Julian again.
Lord, let it be so.
I booked a trip to Disneyland in May, for Dave's birthday. Of course we will be staying at Disney's Grand Californian, and I requested room 5417. We love that room.
Well, I'm off to put away the dishes and straighten up my house. No more living in a sty.
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