My Body Can't

Monday's yoga class had me doing something that I had never done before: headstand, the King of poses. It was assisted, using a stool-like device that prevents you from actually standing on your head while still getting a proper inversion.

When Michael told us that we were going to practice headstand, I was terrified. Noticing my discomfort, he asked me why I was scared. I couldn't say at the time, I was so desperately trying to find a way to flee the room. He assumed that it was because I was fearful of being upside down, and provided me with the physical and emotional support that I needed to give it a go. I completed the inversion with only a little help, and felt fantastic the next day because of it.

It took quite a lot of reflection to identify the reason behind the fear--more like panic--that I experienced when Michael pulled out the stool. It wasn't that I was afraid to be upside down; I actually enjoy it. It was that I was afraid that I couldn't do it. That my 100lb overweight mess of a body simply couldn't get into that position. And, worse, that I would totally humiliate myself trying, not only feeling embarrassed to the point of tears, but making everyone else in the room feel uncomfortable at the same time.

Holding this feeling, I realize how little faith I have in my body. I'm sitting here shuddering, thinking about all of the times I have felt both disappointed and embarrassed by my physical shortcomings: mortifying my father by coming in last during a family fun run when I was a kid; succumbing to exhaustion and collapsing during a trek in Dogon Country, Mali when I was in college; tripping over a twig in the road on a family walk, falling flat on my face, and flipping Ally upside down in her stroller when she was 2. The list is endless.

I think over time, I have just lost all faith in my physical being. Losing weight is no different. I want to so badly, but I've been trying to get my weight under control for the better part of the last 10 years, and have done nothing but fail. It feels hopeless, and so sad, and so frustrating. I just keep thinking about how unpleasant it must be for Peter to be stuck with this body for the rest of his life, how awful it is for my kids to grow up with this role model for healthy.

It's hard not to get swallowed by despair. But what do I have to do but keep going on? That's the trouble with Karma. If you don't get it right the first time, you have to do it again until you do get it right. So better make it right now so that you don't have to do it again later. Or at least that's how I see it. I keep musing this idea that I've heard many times: that the body is simply frozen mind. Well, I sure have a lot of mind frozen. I wonder what's buried in there.

Beware the White Menace

One of the most important books I've ever read is Ultrametabolism by Mark Hyman. It's a faddish diet book that, like so many others, could be quickly read and easily forgotten, except that it was my first introduction to the idea of nutrient density in a meal. And, more importantly, to the idea that obesity is a disease of malnourishment, not over-nourishment as is commonly believed.

The idea that, by focusing on eating "low calorie" this and "fat free" that, I could actually be causing my weight problem was utterly mind-blowing. While I've come to disagree with some of the assertions of that book (i.e. that animal fats are bad and soy products are healthy), by focusing on getting the most bang for my nutritional buck in everything I eat (well, almost everything) I achieved some of the first true health that I experienced in my adult life.

Another thing he discusses in that book is how unhealthy white sugar is, in all of its forms. He calls it the White Menace, which I find mildly amusing. I wasn't amused, however, when the White Menace struck at our house this week. Generally, I try to be laid back about food, no rules about having to finish X in order to eat Y, no clean plate clubs or bribing with foods. I tend to think that my job as a parent is to provide my kids with healthy options at every turn, keep most of the junk out of my house so it isn't an option, and let my kids make their own choices.

Unfortunately, this sometimes backfires. With the stress of starting school and the increased exposure to the world (and all the junk in it), Ally recently went through a dramatic healthy food refusal. We were going days at a time, week over week over week, where she was refusing to eat anything but junk. It's amazing how easily it sneaks into the house, too, and appalling really. Oh, a little chocolate rice milk as a treat from the store, leftover ice cream from a family party, Grandma brought suckers when she visited today . . . Every day she had stomach aches and painful bowel movements, but she just wouldn't eat anything healthy that I put in front of her.

So I cut her off. No refined sugar of any kind until further notice, treats being reserved for when she is eating healthily regularly again. For a day or two, it was a total fight, and she was mad, and why shouldn't she be? I'm depriving her of not only a treasured treat, but of her ability to choose what she eats as well. So I let her have her anger and stayed firm, and in two days, both of the kids were eating well: brothy soups, lots of vegetables, good fruits and beans, eggs for breakfast. And REALLY eating, not just picking at enough food to ward of the hunger pangs until the next good thing comes along. Sigh of relief.

Yesterday, we had to make cake for a family birthday party. Sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar. Both of them instantly became listless, lost their attention spans, and tantrummed and whined for the rest of the day. And this morning, neither of them touched breakfast. Back to square one! Even the baby, who gets very little sugar in his usual diet was affected. Amazing what a lick of frosting can do to a child. The White Menace, indeed.

Falling Down

A few months ago, our family spent a weekend at the Great Sand Dunes National Park. Every year, for a few weeks, a wide, shallow river flows down the edge of the dunes and makes for fantastic family water fun. As we were walking across the river one afternoon, Ally--watching the water run over her feet--lost her balance and fell into the water. I was reminded of the same sensation a month later when we were knocked over by the waves on the Ocean City, MD, beach.

And again in the past few weeks, when I've been knocked down by a sickness. It seems like nothing is getting done, including writing this blog. So, sorry, dear Blog, for neglecting you in the face of my acute health concerns and the care of my children, husband, and pets. May you fare better now that I'm faring better.

I recently read this fantastic article about environmental chemicals and how they influence the development of obesity. I can't say that reading it was an "a-ha" moment for me, as in, this is why I'm overweight, but there was a great deal of information that I hadn't previously read. And, as an added bonus, it included a reason to avoid soy that I hadn't read before. Enjoy!

Breathing to the Rhythm of Walker's Sleep

One of my greatest parenting challenges is sleep deprivation. Peter and I make a conscious choice to respond to our children's needs and cries at all times, during the day or night. While it is en vogue to ignore a child's cries at certain times in order to teach them to "self soothe" and sleep on a schedule that is convenient to the parents, I know of no mental health association that condones this practice. Never mind article after article after article discussing ways in which controlled crying is harmful to the child.

That being said, it's easy to understand why the promise of a quick solution is so appealing. When, night after night, you have to find a way to practice compassion and patience while being inflicted with that which is literally a method of torture. This has been the story of our last few months, as Walker has been suffering through teething, developmental leaps, and dietary changes. Tonight, like far too many other nights recently, he was having a terrible time falling asleep. We snuggled on the couch for about an hour after bedtime, him bouncing between Peter and I, never comfortable and increasingly irritable. Then we walked in the sling and sung songs. Finally, I took him back into the bedroom to bounce between laying in bed and rocking in the rocking chair until he fell asleep.

Unlike any other night recently, though, I consciously breathed. I'm not going anywhere, why not meditate a little? My friend Clea recently made a blog entry about the electric current of the mother's heart, and how our little ones are constantly bathed in it. Tonight was the most phenomenal example of this. As I breathed, through throat, ribs, stomach, and c-o-m-p-l-e-t-e exhalation, Walker relaxed. The moment my mind began to wander, he would jerk awake and cry. Over and over again we repeated this dance, until finally he grabbed my arm and tried to pull it around his head.

He's been doing this for the past few months, and I could never figure out what he was doing. Tonight, being present and open to him, I finally figured it out. He wanted me to slide my arm under his head so he could use it as a pillow. I did, and he drifted off to sleep almost instantly. It was such a sweet, delicious moment watching his little eyes grow heavy, heavier, asleep. Amazing what a little presence can bring to a relationship.

Back to the beginning

Tonight, I took a class at the Kriya Yoga Center. Before I was pregnant with Ally, I attended at least two classes there per week, plus weekly Satsang (fellowship, practice, and instruction). I stopped attending classes when I got pregnant because it made me sick, and then stopped attending Satsang when Ally was born because I couldn't take her with me (it's hard to meditate while holding a screaming baby!).

Since then, there has literally not been a day that I haven't thought of the Center, or of Michael, my yoga Teacher. I was raised Catholic, went to a Catholic school, attended Mass every weekend for my whole childhood. None of those beliefs make sense in my life, and I abandoned them late in my adolescence. But that didn't negate my longing to know a truth and to feed my Spirit.

The Yoga Center filled that need for me. There are very few things that I KNOW to be true, realities that I know unquestionably. I reflected to Michael this evening when I saw him that those few things come from him and the Center. Being away from it for the past several years has been the most painful twilight for my soul.

And my body. I've maintained a basic yoga practice in my home for several years now, but I am appalled by some of the things I learned about myself tonight. Most startlingly, I've forgotten how to breathe. Breathe. It's the most basic of human functions, the root of any meditative practice. And taking a full belly breath is incredibly difficult for me right now. I've always been a breath holder, because being present often feels so overwhelmingly painful, but this is truly appalling.

It's hard to shift anything if you don't have the foundation loose to shift. The breath. The foundation. The truth. If I'm really going to shift my attitude and cultivate some joy, this is where it needs to begin.

34

I've been trying to get some time on the computer to write this post all week. However, karma fires, and my family life is suddenly (again) so crazy that I'm finding it hard to take care of myself--let alone write about it! This is the endless conundrum of being a mother: how to give your children all of the attention that they need to thrive while simultaneously taking care of your own needs. Add to that chronic health problems, food allergies, and my role as housewife (which makes me the de facto primary house cleaner), and any semblance of balance flies right out the window!

Tuesday was my 34th birthday. I am grateful for the many blessings I have at this time in my life. My husband, beautiful children, loving family and friends--they are literally what keep me alive. At the same time, I'm humbled by my ongoing health crisis. This obesity that I just can't get under control. Anxiety and depression, which go hand in hand with the obesity. I'm exhausted, my body hurts, I'm paralyzed by depression, I'm so busy taking care of my kids, I'm not eating well or exercising, I'm not getting anywhere near enough sleep, I can't seem to make the time to see the doctor . . .

What a drag! So I'm trying to focus first on my attitude. Because I don't think the other things are going to clear up dramatically enough to make it better. I'm spending far to much time in this endless tautology, only getting more miserable and feeling older every day. It's no way to live, and no way to raise my kids.

There's a therapeutic modality known as brief therapy, and one of the tools generated from it is the miracle question: if there was a miracle tomorrow and you had everything you wanted, what would your life be like? Well, I can tell you one thing, I wouldn't be spiraling miserably in my head over and over and over! The second part of the miracle question is something that, in yoga, I've learned as ewa, meaning "as if." Life as if you have what you want, and what you want will come to you.

I think some people call this the Law of Attraction. Whatever you call it, I'd like to start attracting some positivity, energy, and, most importantly, joy into my life. Hopefully year 34 will see some real advances in that direction.

The White Flag of Surrender

I'm officially stepping away from the rotation diet. While it was useful, it was so much work that I could hardly handle it. Especially after Walker stopped sleeping suddenly and we all came down with the stomach flu. There was a night over the weekend when, after holding a screaming baby for 2 hours, waiting for him to fall asleep, I literally stumbled into the kitchen and cooked for 2 more hours so that we could have a picnic lunch at the zoo the next day. Because Walker woke up around 4 the next morning, I didn't get more than 5 hours of sleep that night. Totally not worth it, especially after it happened several nights in a row.

I did learn some valuable things in the short time we were following the rotation. I clearly need to do some eliminations and reintroductions for Walker. I was surprised that Ally didn't visibly react to anything, though she also refused to eat for much of the rotation. The entire time she wanted junk food, and I can't tell if this was a detox reaction or if was stress from starting school. I haven't been on a scale, but I'm sure I gained significant weight on the diet. We wound up eating alot of grains, which are healthy but not at all what my body needs to be its best.

On the rotation, I noticed how our limited diet restricts the variety that we consume. I think I do a good job of including a wide variety of foods, especially fruits and vegetables, in my family's diet, though coming up with the variety required by a rotation diet was very, very difficult. The rotation magnified the way in which I tend to reach for the same safe, reliable foods that my children like over and over again. From a nutritional standpoint, I find this disturbing.

Two, eating a completely whole-foods diet is incredibly difficult. By whole-foods, I mean including no processed foods in our diet. I was, again, amazed by the amount of processed foods we eat, even though they are all gluten/dairy/soy free, mostly organic, and mostly things I could make myself if I had the time. Cutting these things our entirely was incredibly difficult, and the amount of associated cooking and food prep to provide my children with a basic, complete diet every day was nearly impossible.