I'm kind of in the mood to be a jerk right now and a bit doom and gloom-y, but forgive me, my identity has been stolen, my apartment is 63 degrees because the heat is broken, and let's be honest, my period is kicking me in the ass. I'm ready to strangle some unknown person from Kentucky who purchased wine with my credit card information, jump in my chameleon's cage and cozy up under the lights of her simulated tropical habitat and say fuck-all to being a woman who NEVER wants to have kids but has to go through all this monthly bullshit anyway. But fortunately for you, this post is about none of those things.
So, I feel like I don't know what I feel like anymore. Like I've not only disconnected with the rest of the human race, but from myself as well. Or maybe it's just that I don't possess the vocabulary to explain what I'm actually feeling or maybe the words don't exist. Maybe it's just too complicated to put into simple terms. But whatever it is, it's attached itself to me and remains so vague and ambiguous that I can't do anything about it. Maybe a visual will help. Indulge me for a moment; Imagine you're this mouse in a maze and you've just realized that there's really no destination and no cheese at the end. You are just trapped in this never ending labyrinth of dead-ends. But until you realized your fate of being trapped in this maze, you didn't know you were trapped, so there was at least this hopeful notion that something better was out there (cheese) and that you were headed somewhere (the exit to a better place). So I'm this mouse, just sitting there, staring at yet another dead-end, having realized my fate and wondering how anyone goes on going on once they've discovered the fucked up world they are trapped in. It feels impossible.
I suppose this is what happens when you choose not to be ignorant. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I didn't know what I know. Would I be happier? Or would I just appear happier? Maybe this feeling (or lack there of) is just an inescapable result of being an adult. Children are so happy because they don't realize they are trapped in the maze yet. They don't know there's no exit and there seems to be an abundant supply of cheese for the taking. (Ok, I just need to disclose that someone or possibly a group of someones propagated this lie that mice like cheese, and now, it's just some sort of false cultural wisdom that just keeps getting passed on over and over again. Can I blame this on the creators of "Tom and Jerry?" I mean come on, where would mice find cheese in their natural environment? Agriculture and the production of cheese is a human invention. One that, along with religion, and more generally, human civilization, is basically destroying the earth.)
I know my opinions are a bit nihilistic, but I know there are a lot more people out there that feel the same way. Which is so frustrating because I don't know any of them and can't seem to find them. Instead, it's just me living in this world, living a life with a disease that I didn't ask for, that was basically passed on to me by all the fucked-up-ed-ness of a world that I had no say in. I know it's not fair, but I'm not asking for it to be. I'm looking for a way in. Not a way out, but a way in. Not to over-use this illustration, but I'm in my own maze sitting outside of the other maze and I know it. What I don't know is if there is a way to get from my maze to the other maze. Because the other maze might be fucked up and I don't want any of the god-damn cheese because I'm Vegan and everywhere I go will be a dead end, but at least they've got other mice to make it manageable. So you're not alone. So you can stand up to all the evils of the world together.
My little maze is getting very lonely.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010
An Update/New Introduction
It's been seven months since I last posted a blog, though I feel I've composed hundreds of blog-like soliloquies in my head since then. They just haven't made it here.
My limited term employment position ended back in May and I spent two months unemployed and severely depressed. It wasn't the actual lack of a job that caused my hibernating depression to come back out and play--it was the loss of a routine, loss of social connectedness with people, the feeling of being worthless and unable to have financial independence, the fruitless job searching efforts. It was having no reason to get out of bed or care about anything. Having no job made it easy for my old thoughts to come back into my head and bully me. I knew all along that my job would end when my hours (just over a thousand) ran out, but at the time, I was under the impression that I would be getting this particular summer job. Some major miscommunication later, the cushion of stability I had going into the summer was ripped out from under me. I depleted my checking and savings accounts in no time since I had been living paycheck to paycheck and was unable to pay the full balance on my credit card for the first time in my life. I was also faced with a new roommate who turned out to be less than wonderful and had major trouble finding a new home for my four rats that I could no longer take care of. My only semi-close friend here in Madison moved away and my anxiety was so bad that I became disconnected from the volunteer work that had brought me here in the first place.
Just when I thought I had accepted myself, faults and all, the unrelenting thoughts in my head starting beating me up over and over again--my own internal bullying. I could not escape my madness because it was always going on in my head. I was becoming increasingly more neurotic and a hypochondriac with terrible mood swings and anxiety. One particular panic attack left me standing cross-legged in the middle of the hallway of my apartment at midnight with my pants rolled up so the bugs "couldn't crawl up them," wide-eyed, shooting quick glances in every direction, jumping at every shadow on the wall, too panicked to even move. I felt like I was living a double life, appearing totally normal by day, and at night having anxiety attacks/crying spells which usually ended up with me thinking that it all just wasn't worth dealing with anymore. My head felt like it would explode from all the ruminating and I would drown out the sobbing by covering my face with my pillow or taking a shower.
In mid June, on a Friday night, I decided that the next day would be my last. I went about that Saturday with a calm and peace in my head and throughout my body that I had never felt before. I didn't have to pretend anymore. I could do or say exactly as I wanted because there would be no social consequence--I would be gone soon. I felt lighter and completely liberated. I had never been in a state of suicidality for more than a few hours before, but this time the feeling persisted for nearly 24 hours. I knew that probably the only thing that would distract me out of my mood would have been a phone call from a family member--but no one called me that day and my roommate was out of town (I felt a little bad that she would be the one to find my dead body when she returned).
Suicidal people don't seek out the help of hotlines or their therapists when they are going to kill themselves. I think that is something that is grossly misunderstood. You are in a completely irrational mind-set that cannot and will not let you see the situation from a position of rationality. And in that state you don't care about the people you normally love. The pain is so intense and has been for such a long time that destroying yourself is the only way to destroy it. I did not seek out help. The only thing that stopped me with going through with it was that I somehow lost my suicidal edge and now thinking rationally, I certainly didn't have the power within me to end my life.
A few weeks later my boss called and said that she was creating a limited term, but full-time, position for me to replace an employee out on maternity leave. I was truly touched by her compassion and willingness to reach out to me. I had always felt accepted in that work environment, but couldn't believe how people would go out of their way for me. Of course, she had no idea just how close I came to never getting that call.
Right now I have job stability (one limited term job ends soon and another will begin), though money is always tight, I have no health insurance, inept republicans have taken over the country and I still haven't paid off my credit card. I had a period of neutrality during late summer and my head stayed clear for quite a while. My depression seems to be working in cycles that are only revealed slowly by years and years of trying to figure out the patterns. Which is worrisome since I am at the beginning of the great decline. I'm trying desperately to avoid these patterns and survive the winter by preparing myself, both mentally and physically. But there is one major problem. I have no meaning in my life. Which along with everything else I'm dealing with is a major pre-cursor for suicidal depression.
And I don't know where to find this elusive meaning. I'm still just as confused and frustrated with my life as I was in college. I don't know what I want to do, I don't know what will make me happy, I don't who I am, I have no friends, I don't know where to find people that are like me, and I feel empty and completely disconnected from people. I have another new roommate that I can no longer stand and which has made even my apartment not a a place that feels remotely close to "home." For my own mental health and stability I really need to get a place on my own. I just can't live with other people. That is what I'm working on right now.
The only things that keep the constant negative thoughts from returning are my distractions: constant new music on my ipod, watching movies on my computer, day-dreaming/making up stories in my head. And routines help: commuting every day to work by bike, waking up early every Saturday to go to the Farmer's Market, playing in a newly formed orchestra, taking care of my chameleon, going to the gym three times a week. But it's just not enough. I feel overwhelmed and burdened and helpless and lost and alone. I hate weekends because there is too much time to think and too little planned activity and I get more depressed. My neuroticism is too intense. A shower curtain pulled to the wrong side will make me blow up with misplaced anger. Or tupperware stacked improperly. The odor of my roommate's burned rice on the stove for the third time in a week and the nauseating perfume she sprayed to hide it. A slow biker that I can't pass. A girl putting gobs of unnatural and unnecessary make-up on while riding the bus. Finding recyclable materials in the trash and subsequently having to take them out and put them in the recycling. The anxiety is endless.
I feel unable to care about things the way I used to. I have no drive or determination to make this world a better place because mostly, it's seems too fucked up to fix. And I can't live in it. The problems are so obvious, but the people in charge and the structures in place seem to promote greed and power, not people's well being or the health of the environment. They bitch and complain about crime and amp up police forces and over-crowd the prisons, but the real problems lie within why people are motivated into commiting criminal acts in the first place (poverty, lack of education, no jobs, and poor parenting because of things like low minmum wage, no help for kids with learning difficulties, schools that are falling apart, a terrible health care system, lack of rehabilitation services in prisons, greedy food conglomerates and agri-businesses, loss of community structure, massive consumerism and the constant struggle to find happiness where it will not be found, etc). You can't just continue slapping band aids on cancer and expect it to get better.
Speaking of getting better, I might even have been motivated enough at some point to jump on the band wagon and make one of those "It Gets Better" videos that everyone is doing for Dan Savage's project (I look forward to reading his column in the Onion every Thursday). But, I'm certainly not at a point where I can say anything gets better. Especially because my bully is ultimatley myself. And I'm not exactly living a gay lifestyle--I still have not been in a relationship with anyone, am not sexually attracted to any gender, and have alienated myself from all the LGBT friends I've ever made. For me, things don't really get better, they just get tolerable, briefly, then get worse again. Depression wreaks havoc, goes into hibernation, then wakes up and destorys anything worth destroying in my life. And I'm certainly guilty of letting people drive me into suicidal thoughts--the "I'll show them" mentality. It's slightly ironic that many of those people have been queer themselves, but that just goes to show that anyone can be a bully and LGBT status is not enough to sustain a friendship. I've watched a considerable amount of those videos since they kept popping up like crazy all over my subscription box on youtube, and honestly, I found most of them to be rather cliche and impersonal. I'm sure the videos have been a comfort to some of those young people who feel alone, but they don't change how someone deals with the hell they're living in. Truthfully, all the seriousness in the world has never helped me snap out of a suicidal state. But humor has. Looking through a comedic perspective on the horrors of the world makes them seem more manageable. Take, for instance, why news programs like The Daily Show and newspapers like the the Onion are so popular. Distractions and a good sense of humor seem to help me the most. It was after watching Alex Day (Nerimon) videos on youtube that yanked me out of the state of suicidality that I was in on that Saturday night in June. It was reading a funny response to someones question on a forum about how many sleeping pills does it take for a lethal over-dose that pulled me out of another almost suicide attempt. Or sometimes it's just something that makes you feel real or made you happy once. It was interacting with animals at a pet store that derailed another suicidal inclination for me. Sometimes I try to write about what's going on in my head right in the moment and that makes it feel more real, but less of a reality. It also helps to get rid of anything you know you would use to kill yourself. I no longer keep sleeping pills in my apartment, or large amounts of anti-depressants/mood-stabilizers. I suppose I can't get rid of cliffs or rooftops, but I'll try to stay away from them when I'm in a not-so-good mood.
So how would I describe myself now, six years since my depression first started and dozens of therapists later? Alive, mostly. Alive and just trying to cope with one day at a time. Wondering if there really is any meaning for me out there or if I already have that meaning within, but just can't see it yet.
My limited term employment position ended back in May and I spent two months unemployed and severely depressed. It wasn't the actual lack of a job that caused my hibernating depression to come back out and play--it was the loss of a routine, loss of social connectedness with people, the feeling of being worthless and unable to have financial independence, the fruitless job searching efforts. It was having no reason to get out of bed or care about anything. Having no job made it easy for my old thoughts to come back into my head and bully me. I knew all along that my job would end when my hours (just over a thousand) ran out, but at the time, I was under the impression that I would be getting this particular summer job. Some major miscommunication later, the cushion of stability I had going into the summer was ripped out from under me. I depleted my checking and savings accounts in no time since I had been living paycheck to paycheck and was unable to pay the full balance on my credit card for the first time in my life. I was also faced with a new roommate who turned out to be less than wonderful and had major trouble finding a new home for my four rats that I could no longer take care of. My only semi-close friend here in Madison moved away and my anxiety was so bad that I became disconnected from the volunteer work that had brought me here in the first place.
Just when I thought I had accepted myself, faults and all, the unrelenting thoughts in my head starting beating me up over and over again--my own internal bullying. I could not escape my madness because it was always going on in my head. I was becoming increasingly more neurotic and a hypochondriac with terrible mood swings and anxiety. One particular panic attack left me standing cross-legged in the middle of the hallway of my apartment at midnight with my pants rolled up so the bugs "couldn't crawl up them," wide-eyed, shooting quick glances in every direction, jumping at every shadow on the wall, too panicked to even move. I felt like I was living a double life, appearing totally normal by day, and at night having anxiety attacks/crying spells which usually ended up with me thinking that it all just wasn't worth dealing with anymore. My head felt like it would explode from all the ruminating and I would drown out the sobbing by covering my face with my pillow or taking a shower.
In mid June, on a Friday night, I decided that the next day would be my last. I went about that Saturday with a calm and peace in my head and throughout my body that I had never felt before. I didn't have to pretend anymore. I could do or say exactly as I wanted because there would be no social consequence--I would be gone soon. I felt lighter and completely liberated. I had never been in a state of suicidality for more than a few hours before, but this time the feeling persisted for nearly 24 hours. I knew that probably the only thing that would distract me out of my mood would have been a phone call from a family member--but no one called me that day and my roommate was out of town (I felt a little bad that she would be the one to find my dead body when she returned).
Suicidal people don't seek out the help of hotlines or their therapists when they are going to kill themselves. I think that is something that is grossly misunderstood. You are in a completely irrational mind-set that cannot and will not let you see the situation from a position of rationality. And in that state you don't care about the people you normally love. The pain is so intense and has been for such a long time that destroying yourself is the only way to destroy it. I did not seek out help. The only thing that stopped me with going through with it was that I somehow lost my suicidal edge and now thinking rationally, I certainly didn't have the power within me to end my life.
A few weeks later my boss called and said that she was creating a limited term, but full-time, position for me to replace an employee out on maternity leave. I was truly touched by her compassion and willingness to reach out to me. I had always felt accepted in that work environment, but couldn't believe how people would go out of their way for me. Of course, she had no idea just how close I came to never getting that call.
Right now I have job stability (one limited term job ends soon and another will begin), though money is always tight, I have no health insurance, inept republicans have taken over the country and I still haven't paid off my credit card. I had a period of neutrality during late summer and my head stayed clear for quite a while. My depression seems to be working in cycles that are only revealed slowly by years and years of trying to figure out the patterns. Which is worrisome since I am at the beginning of the great decline. I'm trying desperately to avoid these patterns and survive the winter by preparing myself, both mentally and physically. But there is one major problem. I have no meaning in my life. Which along with everything else I'm dealing with is a major pre-cursor for suicidal depression.
And I don't know where to find this elusive meaning. I'm still just as confused and frustrated with my life as I was in college. I don't know what I want to do, I don't know what will make me happy, I don't who I am, I have no friends, I don't know where to find people that are like me, and I feel empty and completely disconnected from people. I have another new roommate that I can no longer stand and which has made even my apartment not a a place that feels remotely close to "home." For my own mental health and stability I really need to get a place on my own. I just can't live with other people. That is what I'm working on right now.
The only things that keep the constant negative thoughts from returning are my distractions: constant new music on my ipod, watching movies on my computer, day-dreaming/making up stories in my head. And routines help: commuting every day to work by bike, waking up early every Saturday to go to the Farmer's Market, playing in a newly formed orchestra, taking care of my chameleon, going to the gym three times a week. But it's just not enough. I feel overwhelmed and burdened and helpless and lost and alone. I hate weekends because there is too much time to think and too little planned activity and I get more depressed. My neuroticism is too intense. A shower curtain pulled to the wrong side will make me blow up with misplaced anger. Or tupperware stacked improperly. The odor of my roommate's burned rice on the stove for the third time in a week and the nauseating perfume she sprayed to hide it. A slow biker that I can't pass. A girl putting gobs of unnatural and unnecessary make-up on while riding the bus. Finding recyclable materials in the trash and subsequently having to take them out and put them in the recycling. The anxiety is endless.
I feel unable to care about things the way I used to. I have no drive or determination to make this world a better place because mostly, it's seems too fucked up to fix. And I can't live in it. The problems are so obvious, but the people in charge and the structures in place seem to promote greed and power, not people's well being or the health of the environment. They bitch and complain about crime and amp up police forces and over-crowd the prisons, but the real problems lie within why people are motivated into commiting criminal acts in the first place (poverty, lack of education, no jobs, and poor parenting because of things like low minmum wage, no help for kids with learning difficulties, schools that are falling apart, a terrible health care system, lack of rehabilitation services in prisons, greedy food conglomerates and agri-businesses, loss of community structure, massive consumerism and the constant struggle to find happiness where it will not be found, etc). You can't just continue slapping band aids on cancer and expect it to get better.
Speaking of getting better, I might even have been motivated enough at some point to jump on the band wagon and make one of those "It Gets Better" videos that everyone is doing for Dan Savage's project (I look forward to reading his column in the Onion every Thursday). But, I'm certainly not at a point where I can say anything gets better. Especially because my bully is ultimatley myself. And I'm not exactly living a gay lifestyle--I still have not been in a relationship with anyone, am not sexually attracted to any gender, and have alienated myself from all the LGBT friends I've ever made. For me, things don't really get better, they just get tolerable, briefly, then get worse again. Depression wreaks havoc, goes into hibernation, then wakes up and destorys anything worth destroying in my life. And I'm certainly guilty of letting people drive me into suicidal thoughts--the "I'll show them" mentality. It's slightly ironic that many of those people have been queer themselves, but that just goes to show that anyone can be a bully and LGBT status is not enough to sustain a friendship. I've watched a considerable amount of those videos since they kept popping up like crazy all over my subscription box on youtube, and honestly, I found most of them to be rather cliche and impersonal. I'm sure the videos have been a comfort to some of those young people who feel alone, but they don't change how someone deals with the hell they're living in. Truthfully, all the seriousness in the world has never helped me snap out of a suicidal state. But humor has. Looking through a comedic perspective on the horrors of the world makes them seem more manageable. Take, for instance, why news programs like The Daily Show and newspapers like the the Onion are so popular. Distractions and a good sense of humor seem to help me the most. It was after watching Alex Day (Nerimon) videos on youtube that yanked me out of the state of suicidality that I was in on that Saturday night in June. It was reading a funny response to someones question on a forum about how many sleeping pills does it take for a lethal over-dose that pulled me out of another almost suicide attempt. Or sometimes it's just something that makes you feel real or made you happy once. It was interacting with animals at a pet store that derailed another suicidal inclination for me. Sometimes I try to write about what's going on in my head right in the moment and that makes it feel more real, but less of a reality. It also helps to get rid of anything you know you would use to kill yourself. I no longer keep sleeping pills in my apartment, or large amounts of anti-depressants/mood-stabilizers. I suppose I can't get rid of cliffs or rooftops, but I'll try to stay away from them when I'm in a not-so-good mood.
So how would I describe myself now, six years since my depression first started and dozens of therapists later? Alive, mostly. Alive and just trying to cope with one day at a time. Wondering if there really is any meaning for me out there or if I already have that meaning within, but just can't see it yet.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Detox Update and The Inner Critic
I'm beginning to think that I prepared so well for the sugar detox that I avoided all of the withdrawal symptoms I had read so much about. I'm not even craving sweets at all. Even chocolate, which I used to crave so hard that I would literally consume an entire bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips if that was the only chocolate in the house or run to Walgreens for a chocolate bar at 10 o'clock at night. I'm not sure why this has been so easy for me, but I think the worst part of the detox was the preparation: phasing out foods with sugar, replacing those foods with sugar-free versions and new foods all together. Maybe I am stronger willed than I let myself believe. I did go Vegan (and stuck with it) despite a lack of understanding or moral support from the outside world.
So, what have I noticed so far? Nothing, unless you count binging on hummus and unleavened bread instead of chocolate and the second coming of puberty in the form of major breakouts all over my face. That, and my brain sometimes turns into a bowl of steaming hot MUSH. Take for example, when I went to enter the code for the key to the barn of the wildlife center I volunteer at (a code I've literally used hundreds of times and very recently) and not only could I not think of the full code or any of the numbers in the code, I couldn't even remember how many numbers were in the code to begin with. Three? Four? I racked my brain, but no numbers came. I felt like I had forgotten my birthday or zip code or something. I felt ridiculous.
My therapy session this evening was what I would consider a break through, lame as that sounds. The discussion mostly focused on what many call the Inner Critic. That voice inside you, always judging you, speaking to us either consciously or unconsciously. Formed by the unavoidable scars of childhood, but still here in our adult lives, keeping us down, making us feel that we are never good enough, destroying our self-esteem. The Inner Critic becomes our constant companion, once a survival mechanism in childhood, now punishing ourselves emotionally and physically.
I've always been aware that "I am my own worst critic," but never thought about the real impact of this persistent negative, self-defeating dialogue I've been telling myself for most of my life. It makes for being a great editor of other people's work, but makes it entirely impossible to ever be satisfied with my own. It's such an internalized part of me that sometimes I don't even notice it any more. But I am still affected by it every day, every moment. I could barely finish a sentence during the session without saying "I'm pathetic" or "I'm lazy and unmotivated, I should be doing better."
What was particularly revealing about this therapy session was how I looked back at my childhood/teenagehood and how I could see the affects of the Inner Critic on my life. The perfectionism, striving for straight A's in school. Neglecting many aspects of my life (friends, social life, family, spirituality, etc) to chase the standard of excellence that I had set for myself. Once I achieved straight A's in the last trimester of 8th grade, I could never go back to getting any grade less than that without thinking that "I could have done better." It was just not acceptable to myself.
Now that I recognize my Inner Critic, I can start cultivating a healthier sense of self and disarm my Inner Critic. Couple that with the idea of Radical Acceptance that Tara Brach talks about in her book, if I practice embracing and accepting the judgements of the Inner Critic, rather than ignore or fight them, my whole world will open wide. And maybe I'll be able to love myself and let all the good things I want come into my life. But it's not easy, at all. Giving up sugar is easier, by far.
I want to share with you an excerpt of a journal entry that I wrote back in September of 2007. The tone is angry and the letter is addressed to the part of me that was keeping me down. I didn't have the terminology for it at the time. All I knew was there was this part, this alter ego or voice, that had to be destroyed. Perhaps now, I have the intelligence and insight to embrace this demon rather than try to fight it. Because fighting it only feeds it and destroys me in the end.
I’m writing you this letter to let you know that I am going to kill you. I know that sounds crazy, and perhaps a bit creepy, but I’ve decided it’s the only way to get past you and towards a me that can be happy. You don’t even know what happiness is anymore, and you certainly don’t want to be happy. You make me fear that once I achieve this elusive happiness, it will always be waiting to be lost once again. And you make me feel that I might feel almost silly not for wanting it, but for actually being happy. We all claim to want happiness, but for those of us depressed, angry and sad people out there, we see the perpetually peppy and positive as nothing more than neurotic, obnoxious fools. They should have some respect for those who don’t share their boundless enthusiasm. And you think, is that what I’m trying to become? It’s repulsive and sickening. So we stay in our unhappy place, without any motivation to be happy again. Let me tell you something, you think you have control of this life, this body, you don’t. I control this mind, it’s my mind and I will manipulate it until you are gone for good. I have been waiting and wishing you away for years, but I have to make it happen and take action. So this is how it’s going to be from now on. I am going to kill you. And you will plague me no longer.
I was right about taking action to make things happen, but just wasn't going about it in the best way. I'd also like to share an excerpt from a poem on the same subject of wanting to destroy this unidentifiable part of me that was keeping me down (what I now know as my Inner Critic). It was first written in 2006 as I sat depressed and angry from my dorm room in Australia, watching the rain pummel the dry earth. I was so angry that I made up my own word for how I was feeling, this void I was living in, and thus it became the intoxification of nothingness:
The Intoxification of Nothingness
Can she ever be full
Imprisoned in the cell of her own body
Living alone in her head
Strangled by amalgamated thoughts
And sterile desires?
She screams, but the sound is swallowed whole
She throws an angry fist that brushes the naked air
She cries and the tears teem like rain
Burning her cheeks with a nameless hate
Cast off this guise
And destroy its thirst for her
Stab it with a newly sharpened blade
Watch the blood drip, drip, drip
Congealing in a stagnant, black pool
Feel all her pain
The ache of her strength locked in the
Closet of her own body
Ashamed, self-conscious, inhibited
The prey of an invisible fiend
Douse it with kerosene and light a match
Smothered by her memories
A smoldering mass, shrinking into ashes
Buried alive in the frozen earth
She feels her cells dissolving
As her organs squirm in bloody pools inside her
Imagining spontaneous combustion
Her impossible suicide—
Chunks of flesh splattering against the walls
Her blood drenching the cold, hard floor,
Seeping into each orifice like a snake
Bone and nail blasted into dust
You haunt her—
A foreboding, relentless revenant
Lurking on the edge of her sanity
In the irrevocable silence of your grave
Will anyone help her?
She’s caught in endless suspension,
Lost in the intoxification of nothingness
So, what have I noticed so far? Nothing, unless you count binging on hummus and unleavened bread instead of chocolate and the second coming of puberty in the form of major breakouts all over my face. That, and my brain sometimes turns into a bowl of steaming hot MUSH. Take for example, when I went to enter the code for the key to the barn of the wildlife center I volunteer at (a code I've literally used hundreds of times and very recently) and not only could I not think of the full code or any of the numbers in the code, I couldn't even remember how many numbers were in the code to begin with. Three? Four? I racked my brain, but no numbers came. I felt like I had forgotten my birthday or zip code or something. I felt ridiculous.
My therapy session this evening was what I would consider a break through, lame as that sounds. The discussion mostly focused on what many call the Inner Critic. That voice inside you, always judging you, speaking to us either consciously or unconsciously. Formed by the unavoidable scars of childhood, but still here in our adult lives, keeping us down, making us feel that we are never good enough, destroying our self-esteem. The Inner Critic becomes our constant companion, once a survival mechanism in childhood, now punishing ourselves emotionally and physically.
I've always been aware that "I am my own worst critic," but never thought about the real impact of this persistent negative, self-defeating dialogue I've been telling myself for most of my life. It makes for being a great editor of other people's work, but makes it entirely impossible to ever be satisfied with my own. It's such an internalized part of me that sometimes I don't even notice it any more. But I am still affected by it every day, every moment. I could barely finish a sentence during the session without saying "I'm pathetic" or "I'm lazy and unmotivated, I should be doing better."
What was particularly revealing about this therapy session was how I looked back at my childhood/teenagehood and how I could see the affects of the Inner Critic on my life. The perfectionism, striving for straight A's in school. Neglecting many aspects of my life (friends, social life, family, spirituality, etc) to chase the standard of excellence that I had set for myself. Once I achieved straight A's in the last trimester of 8th grade, I could never go back to getting any grade less than that without thinking that "I could have done better." It was just not acceptable to myself.
Now that I recognize my Inner Critic, I can start cultivating a healthier sense of self and disarm my Inner Critic. Couple that with the idea of Radical Acceptance that Tara Brach talks about in her book, if I practice embracing and accepting the judgements of the Inner Critic, rather than ignore or fight them, my whole world will open wide. And maybe I'll be able to love myself and let all the good things I want come into my life. But it's not easy, at all. Giving up sugar is easier, by far.
I want to share with you an excerpt of a journal entry that I wrote back in September of 2007. The tone is angry and the letter is addressed to the part of me that was keeping me down. I didn't have the terminology for it at the time. All I knew was there was this part, this alter ego or voice, that had to be destroyed. Perhaps now, I have the intelligence and insight to embrace this demon rather than try to fight it. Because fighting it only feeds it and destroys me in the end.
I’m writing you this letter to let you know that I am going to kill you. I know that sounds crazy, and perhaps a bit creepy, but I’ve decided it’s the only way to get past you and towards a me that can be happy. You don’t even know what happiness is anymore, and you certainly don’t want to be happy. You make me fear that once I achieve this elusive happiness, it will always be waiting to be lost once again. And you make me feel that I might feel almost silly not for wanting it, but for actually being happy. We all claim to want happiness, but for those of us depressed, angry and sad people out there, we see the perpetually peppy and positive as nothing more than neurotic, obnoxious fools. They should have some respect for those who don’t share their boundless enthusiasm. And you think, is that what I’m trying to become? It’s repulsive and sickening. So we stay in our unhappy place, without any motivation to be happy again. Let me tell you something, you think you have control of this life, this body, you don’t. I control this mind, it’s my mind and I will manipulate it until you are gone for good. I have been waiting and wishing you away for years, but I have to make it happen and take action. So this is how it’s going to be from now on. I am going to kill you. And you will plague me no longer.
I was right about taking action to make things happen, but just wasn't going about it in the best way. I'd also like to share an excerpt from a poem on the same subject of wanting to destroy this unidentifiable part of me that was keeping me down (what I now know as my Inner Critic). It was first written in 2006 as I sat depressed and angry from my dorm room in Australia, watching the rain pummel the dry earth. I was so angry that I made up my own word for how I was feeling, this void I was living in, and thus it became the intoxification of nothingness:
The Intoxification of Nothingness
Can she ever be full
Imprisoned in the cell of her own body
Living alone in her head
Strangled by amalgamated thoughts
And sterile desires?
She screams, but the sound is swallowed whole
She throws an angry fist that brushes the naked air
She cries and the tears teem like rain
Burning her cheeks with a nameless hate
Cast off this guise
And destroy its thirst for her
Stab it with a newly sharpened blade
Watch the blood drip, drip, drip
Congealing in a stagnant, black pool
Feel all her pain
The ache of her strength locked in the
Closet of her own body
Ashamed, self-conscious, inhibited
The prey of an invisible fiend
Douse it with kerosene and light a match
Smothered by her memories
A smoldering mass, shrinking into ashes
Buried alive in the frozen earth
She feels her cells dissolving
As her organs squirm in bloody pools inside her
Imagining spontaneous combustion
Her impossible suicide—
Chunks of flesh splattering against the walls
Her blood drenching the cold, hard floor,
Seeping into each orifice like a snake
Bone and nail blasted into dust
You haunt her—
A foreboding, relentless revenant
Lurking on the edge of her sanity
In the irrevocable silence of your grave
Will anyone help her?
She’s caught in endless suspension,
Lost in the intoxification of nothingness
Monday, March 29, 2010
What's in a Vegan's Fridge?
I've decided to start the official detox on April 1st (no joke). A few updates: 1) I stopped keeping the food journal because other than being a pain in the ass, it was actually encouraging my binge eating, and when I stopped, I felt the pressure lift and I could just eat normally without focusing so much mental energy on every single thing I ate; 2) I've decided to see my therapist bi-weekly because I really don't like her all that much, she's expensive and I really hate therapy (did I mention that I don't like therapy?); 3) there are two self-improvement books I'm reading that are AMAZING, "Radical Acceptance" by Tara Brach and the national best seller "The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People" by Stephen R. Covey (I know, it has been around since '89, but I'm a little behind the curve).
So what exactly is in the fridge/cupboard of a vegan going on a sugar/fructose detox, you ask? Well, it's not all garbanzo beans and rice, people (those are in there though). What could a person possibly eat that doesn't include meat, gelatin, milk, cream, butter, eggs or any sugar (white table sugar, corn syrup, HFCS, honey, evaporated cane juice, sucrose, etc.)? No chocolate? No apples? No ketchup!?! Here's what I got:
Cupboard:
brown rice
whole wheat pasta
lentils, split peas
peanuts
dry roasted almonds
pumpkin seeds
garbanzo beans (chick peas)
black soy beans
onions
yams
potatoes
garlic
Bible Bread (crispbread)
Smucker's Natural no salt added peanut butter
Near East Spanish rice pilaf, falafel and couscous
Muir Glen organic salsa (unopened)
Full Circle Popcorn (salt, no butter)
Garden of Eatin' Yellow corn tortilla chips
On the Counter:
bananas
EVOO (What, you've never seen Rachel Ray? It's extra virgin olive oil.)
balsamic vinegar
Fridge:
strawberries
oranges
plums
grape tomatoes
tomatoes on the vine
carrots
red peppers
tomatillos
jalapeno peppers
broccoli
cucumber
spring greens
Bertolli tomato sauce
Green Mountain Gringo Salsa
Salsa Diablo (yes, I have a lot of salsa, I'm trying to find one I really like)
Sabra extra spicy hummus
Tribe sweet red pepper hummus
extra firm tofu
Organic Ville sesame tamari and sun dried tomato garlic vinaigrette (I'm so excited I found sugar-free salad dressing--it's not an easy thing to do!)
pickles
mustard
lemon juice
Eath Balance natural buttery spread (best vegan substitute of any kind of product, EVER!)
Silk soy milk (no sugar added)
Brita water pitcher (essential if you have soft water in your home)
Freezer:
Food for Life Sprouted wheat burger buns
Food for Life brown rice tortillas (wheat and gluten free)
Food for Life-Genesis 1:29 sprouted grain and seed bread
Food for Life-Genesis 1:29 sprouted grain and seed English muffins (I find it slightly ironic that I have so many biblical bread products considering I'm an atheist, but it's really hard to find dairy, egg, sugar and honey free bread)
Boca Burgers - original Vegan
stir fry veggies
corn
rhubarb
raspberries
cranberries (no sugar added, so hard to find!)
whole wheat waffle pancakes (made 'em myself)
Other cupboard that I forgot:
canola oil
cooking spray
white wine vinegar
salt, pepper
spices
vanilla
baking powder
oats
egg replacer
whole wheat flour
lots of sugar I'll have to hide... (brown sugar, agave nectar, powdered sugar, molasses)
So there you have it. It looks like I'm not going to starve to death after all. I left out some other things in the fridge that are not detox friendly (ie salad dressing, coconut, jam, apple butter, brown sugar cinnamon bagels), but I'll have to either finish them up before Thursday or stash them somewhere out of sight. I also didn't mention wheat germ, collard greens, wax worms and Carrot Nibblers, but those are for my pets and sugar-free or not, they are certainly not tempting by any means.
So what exactly is in the fridge/cupboard of a vegan going on a sugar/fructose detox, you ask? Well, it's not all garbanzo beans and rice, people (those are in there though). What could a person possibly eat that doesn't include meat, gelatin, milk, cream, butter, eggs or any sugar (white table sugar, corn syrup, HFCS, honey, evaporated cane juice, sucrose, etc.)? No chocolate? No apples? No ketchup!?! Here's what I got:
Cupboard:
brown rice
whole wheat pasta
lentils, split peas
peanuts
dry roasted almonds
pumpkin seeds
garbanzo beans (chick peas)
black soy beans
onions
yams
potatoes
garlic
Bible Bread (crispbread)
Smucker's Natural no salt added peanut butter
Near East Spanish rice pilaf, falafel and couscous
Muir Glen organic salsa (unopened)
Full Circle Popcorn (salt, no butter)
Garden of Eatin' Yellow corn tortilla chips
On the Counter:
bananas
EVOO (What, you've never seen Rachel Ray? It's extra virgin olive oil.)
balsamic vinegar
Fridge:
strawberries
oranges
plums
grape tomatoes
tomatoes on the vine
carrots
red peppers
tomatillos
jalapeno peppers
broccoli
cucumber
spring greens
Bertolli tomato sauce
Green Mountain Gringo Salsa
Salsa Diablo (yes, I have a lot of salsa, I'm trying to find one I really like)
Sabra extra spicy hummus
Tribe sweet red pepper hummus
extra firm tofu
Organic Ville sesame tamari and sun dried tomato garlic vinaigrette (I'm so excited I found sugar-free salad dressing--it's not an easy thing to do!)
pickles
mustard
lemon juice
Eath Balance natural buttery spread (best vegan substitute of any kind of product, EVER!)
Silk soy milk (no sugar added)
Brita water pitcher (essential if you have soft water in your home)
Freezer:
Food for Life Sprouted wheat burger buns
Food for Life brown rice tortillas (wheat and gluten free)
Food for Life-Genesis 1:29 sprouted grain and seed bread
Food for Life-Genesis 1:29 sprouted grain and seed English muffins (I find it slightly ironic that I have so many biblical bread products considering I'm an atheist, but it's really hard to find dairy, egg, sugar and honey free bread)
Boca Burgers - original Vegan
stir fry veggies
corn
rhubarb
raspberries
cranberries (no sugar added, so hard to find!)
whole wheat waffle pancakes (made 'em myself)
Other cupboard that I forgot:
canola oil
cooking spray
white wine vinegar
salt, pepper
spices
vanilla
baking powder
oats
egg replacer
whole wheat flour
lots of sugar I'll have to hide... (brown sugar, agave nectar, powdered sugar, molasses)
So there you have it. It looks like I'm not going to starve to death after all. I left out some other things in the fridge that are not detox friendly (ie salad dressing, coconut, jam, apple butter, brown sugar cinnamon bagels), but I'll have to either finish them up before Thursday or stash them somewhere out of sight. I also didn't mention wheat germ, collard greens, wax worms and Carrot Nibblers, but those are for my pets and sugar-free or not, they are certainly not tempting by any means.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Food Journals Bite
Just to let you know, I hate feeling forced to keep a journal like it’s a homework assignment. I only like to write when I feel like it. So here I am at step 1 of Dr. DesMaisons’ 7-step plan for dealing with sugar sensitivity and I’m already trying to get out of doing the work. What a slacker.
When you consciously write down what you eat, a few things begin to happen. First, you start thinking twice about pulling the cookies out of the bag because you know you’ll have to write it down or you’ll feel dishonest if you eat them and don’t write it in the journal. And blogging about the whole thing makes you feel like there’s someone to answer to (even if only three people ever read this), which means you feel like you have to do a good job on your “homework.” Second, you start off suddenly eating healthier, reasonable portions and avoiding rich sweets. You remember each meal and fill in the time and details fully. But as the days go by, you start neglecting your journal, forgetting what you’ve eaten, skipping entries, considering the twizzlers you consumed at work “negligible,” and plowing through an entire bag of cookies in one sitting. You get sick of tirelessly tracking all your food and it makes you frustrated and irritated when you don’t do a good job. You just want to say fuck you to step one and move on. Except the real kicker is that you are supposed to keep up with the food journal throughout the entire process. This makes you want to quit the whole fucking program before you’ve really even started.
I feel like I’m fighting against myself where there can be no winner because I will lose even if I win. I’m so tired of suffering, but part of me thinks that this is just going to be another failed attempt at bettering my life. Why go through all the work when I’m probably not going to get anything out of it? Why set myself up for another disappointment?
I want nothing more than to give the proverbial finger to the entire American food system and way of eating, but the more I obsess over and analyze it, the more it makes me crazy and I go back to comforting myself with food. The most satisfying foods are not really cookies or junk food or convenience foods. It’s a simple nutritious meal eaten when you are actually hungry and haven’t been grazing all day. You feel satisfied, not bloated, gassy, or over-stuffed. The waistband of your pants isn’t digging into your stomach and when you are offered dessert, you turn it away with ease. The meal carries you all the way to the next. One of my main problems is that when I reach this very point, I am pleased with myself for making good choices and not snacking in between, but still don’t feel “full.” It’s not that I’m still hungry; I’m just not satiated. I want more, need more, feel empty inside. Part of me, conscious or not, is trying to fill up all the negative emotion, the pain, anger, alienation, sadness and boredom. The problem is that food will never do it. Food will never make everything go away, even if it gives my mood a slight boost, it’s only temporary. Food will make everything worse, feeling less than good about myself, increasing my lack of self-control, damaging behaviors, and feelings of lacking will power.
My diet has gone through many radical changes throughout the years: eliminating soda (soda-free for 9 years!), eating away at college, studying abroad (and not eating much meat), eliminating fast food, drinking more water, cooking my own meals in an apartment, eating a more vegetarian diet, eating mostly whole grains, eating at home again, having no appetite due to medication, becoming a vegan, eating a mostly junk food vegan diet, going back to a vegetarian diet (because I couldn’t give up cheese), trying the vegan thing again, gradually eating a much healthier diet, adding tofu into my diet, eating mostly fresh organic produce, eliminating sugary fruit juice, etc. My diet has changed a lot since those days of just eating whatever mom put in front of me at the kitchen table.
But all this thinking about diet and sugar sensitivity has lead me towards something else that might very well be the culprit to 25 years of the wrong diet for my body. I came across a condition called fructose malabsorption, a digestive disorder of the small intestine. When foods containing fructose are consumed, the fructose concentration in the intestine increases because certain enzymes are not working properly. A healthy person will absorb 25-50 g of fructose per sitting, but someone with frucmal may absorb less than 25 g per sitting. Gases like hydrogen, carbon dioxide and methane are produced by the bacteria in the intestine, which lead to bloating, gas and discomfort. Many people have fructose malabsorption along with lactose intolerance.
I’m a huge fruit eater and that is probably one of the only things that has stayed the same throughout all of the aforementioned diet changes. From babyhood to adulthood, I’ve always eaten excessive amounts of fruit, particularly in the fresh, dried and juice forms. When I was younger, raisins used to make me sick. I remember having to avoid them as a kid. When I went off to college, I started eating them again (mostly because I had gone so long without them I wondered if they would still make me sick or not), and they didn’t seem to cause any noticeable problems, so they came back into my diet). Now I eat them all the time, with other fruit, in trail mix, on salads, or in a stir-fry. ***Second only to dates, raisins have the highest fructose content of all fruits. Was my body trying to tell me something all those years ago?
I suffered with severe bloating, constipation, gas and stomach pain my entire childhood through young adulthood, just soldiering on as if all people had to deal with it too. In truth, I just didn’t know any better or that other people weren't living this way.
But great news! There is a very simple test for any food related intolerance (glucose, gluten, lactose, fructose, etc) and I could actually get a definitive diagnosis. Imagine that? So, I suspect all these food related issues because of both physical and mental symptoms. Physical (bloating, constipation, gas, stomach pain, headaches, etc) and mental (depression, mood swings). The mental health field has always been a little abstract and qualitative rather than quantitative when it comes to diagnosis. There is no test for depression or PTSD or bipolar disorder or borderline personality disorder, etc. So if a simple, non-invasive test (hydrogen breath test) can be done to see if I have a dietary issue, that could explain and resolve my mental health related symptoms in addition to the physical ones, why the hell would I not want to do it!? Well, it doesn't help when you have no primary doctor, no health insurance and no money. The soonest appointment I could get with a gastroenterologist is in June. That's a long time to wait. Maybe the detox will reveal the intolerances, just as my going vegan "accidentally" revealed my lactose intolerance.
Many studies have shown that a third to almost half of people may have some kind of fructose malabsorption. If it’s that prevalent, why has no one ever heard of it? Is the high fructose corn syrup campaign too ominous and intimidating? I hate those commercials by the way. They are using people’s ignorance of the topic to make a generalization that HFCS is ok because nobody can seem to think of a single reason off the top of their head for why it is bad. Then they throw in, “if eaten in moderation” to somehow make up for calling us out on not knowing our facts about HFCS and making fun of us. They don’t educate us, just make us feel stupid. I think the big industries and lobbyists for those industries (sugar, dairy, meat) are what has screwed up our diets. Nobody is tune with what their actual body actually needs or even what it does not like, they just continue to glide along on the myths of conventional wisdom. Eat less carbs, more protein, HFCS is ok in moderation, eat more dairy, milk does a body good, etc. We have been deceived, but I’m going to do something about it. By starting to eat a radically different diet, I am starting to change the cycle.
So I am still going to do Dr. DesMaisons’ plan, but I am going to go about the last step differently. I think I should do a full fructose and sugar detox (eliminate fruits with high fructose to glucose ratios), and I’ll probably find better results than just eliminating sugar (table sugar, simple carbohydrates, syrups, etc). I have compiled a list of all of the sugar alias’ I could find and a list of all the recommended fruits/vegetables and those to avoid. I’m feeling a bit antsy about getting to the actual detox, but that could be a bad sign. Who looks forward to a complete moratorium on sugar? Or the horrible withdrawal symptoms that are similar to a drug detox? Ok, it is going to be hell, I don’t doubt that, but if I prepare well, I might just enjoy the potential results. So I’m going to move on to steps 2-5 (in addition to keeping up the dreaded food journal):
2. Eating three meals a day at regular intervals
3. Taking vitamins as recommended
4. Eating the recommended amount of protein at each meal
5. Adjusting your carbohydrate intake to include more complex foods
And here is why I’m going to smash all these steps together (despite DesMaisons advising us not to). What the hell, call me a rebel. Like I said before, this isn’t my first major dietary change and a lot of her steps I either already do or have done. I usually eat three full meals day, except every once in a while I skip breakfast, but eat later at work. I am going to try and find a B12 vitamin that doesn’t contain sugar (since mine currently does), and possibly start taking vitamins recommended for those doing a sugar detox (B vitamins, chromium, zinc, vitamin C). As for protein, I will try harder by including more beans, legumes, vegetables, tofu, rice, nuts, whole wheat foods into my diet. And for step 5, I’ve already done a complete overhaul on the simple carbohydrates (white flour products which our bodies use in the same way as sugar)—they are pretty much absent from my diet. And just to clarify, I'm not eliminating sugar from my diet forever. That would be silly.
So, I’ll start tweaking my diet for the next week or so, buying vegan sugar-free snacks and naturally sweet foods to curb cravings and lowering my sugar intake. When I’m finally ready to start the sugar/fructose detox, I don’t think anybody is going to want to be around me for a while.
Not even me.
When you consciously write down what you eat, a few things begin to happen. First, you start thinking twice about pulling the cookies out of the bag because you know you’ll have to write it down or you’ll feel dishonest if you eat them and don’t write it in the journal. And blogging about the whole thing makes you feel like there’s someone to answer to (even if only three people ever read this), which means you feel like you have to do a good job on your “homework.” Second, you start off suddenly eating healthier, reasonable portions and avoiding rich sweets. You remember each meal and fill in the time and details fully. But as the days go by, you start neglecting your journal, forgetting what you’ve eaten, skipping entries, considering the twizzlers you consumed at work “negligible,” and plowing through an entire bag of cookies in one sitting. You get sick of tirelessly tracking all your food and it makes you frustrated and irritated when you don’t do a good job. You just want to say fuck you to step one and move on. Except the real kicker is that you are supposed to keep up with the food journal throughout the entire process. This makes you want to quit the whole fucking program before you’ve really even started.
I feel like I’m fighting against myself where there can be no winner because I will lose even if I win. I’m so tired of suffering, but part of me thinks that this is just going to be another failed attempt at bettering my life. Why go through all the work when I’m probably not going to get anything out of it? Why set myself up for another disappointment?
I want nothing more than to give the proverbial finger to the entire American food system and way of eating, but the more I obsess over and analyze it, the more it makes me crazy and I go back to comforting myself with food. The most satisfying foods are not really cookies or junk food or convenience foods. It’s a simple nutritious meal eaten when you are actually hungry and haven’t been grazing all day. You feel satisfied, not bloated, gassy, or over-stuffed. The waistband of your pants isn’t digging into your stomach and when you are offered dessert, you turn it away with ease. The meal carries you all the way to the next. One of my main problems is that when I reach this very point, I am pleased with myself for making good choices and not snacking in between, but still don’t feel “full.” It’s not that I’m still hungry; I’m just not satiated. I want more, need more, feel empty inside. Part of me, conscious or not, is trying to fill up all the negative emotion, the pain, anger, alienation, sadness and boredom. The problem is that food will never do it. Food will never make everything go away, even if it gives my mood a slight boost, it’s only temporary. Food will make everything worse, feeling less than good about myself, increasing my lack of self-control, damaging behaviors, and feelings of lacking will power.
My diet has gone through many radical changes throughout the years: eliminating soda (soda-free for 9 years!), eating away at college, studying abroad (and not eating much meat), eliminating fast food, drinking more water, cooking my own meals in an apartment, eating a more vegetarian diet, eating mostly whole grains, eating at home again, having no appetite due to medication, becoming a vegan, eating a mostly junk food vegan diet, going back to a vegetarian diet (because I couldn’t give up cheese), trying the vegan thing again, gradually eating a much healthier diet, adding tofu into my diet, eating mostly fresh organic produce, eliminating sugary fruit juice, etc. My diet has changed a lot since those days of just eating whatever mom put in front of me at the kitchen table.
But all this thinking about diet and sugar sensitivity has lead me towards something else that might very well be the culprit to 25 years of the wrong diet for my body. I came across a condition called fructose malabsorption, a digestive disorder of the small intestine. When foods containing fructose are consumed, the fructose concentration in the intestine increases because certain enzymes are not working properly. A healthy person will absorb 25-50 g of fructose per sitting, but someone with frucmal may absorb less than 25 g per sitting. Gases like hydrogen, carbon dioxide and methane are produced by the bacteria in the intestine, which lead to bloating, gas and discomfort. Many people have fructose malabsorption along with lactose intolerance.
I’m a huge fruit eater and that is probably one of the only things that has stayed the same throughout all of the aforementioned diet changes. From babyhood to adulthood, I’ve always eaten excessive amounts of fruit, particularly in the fresh, dried and juice forms. When I was younger, raisins used to make me sick. I remember having to avoid them as a kid. When I went off to college, I started eating them again (mostly because I had gone so long without them I wondered if they would still make me sick or not), and they didn’t seem to cause any noticeable problems, so they came back into my diet). Now I eat them all the time, with other fruit, in trail mix, on salads, or in a stir-fry. ***Second only to dates, raisins have the highest fructose content of all fruits. Was my body trying to tell me something all those years ago?
I suffered with severe bloating, constipation, gas and stomach pain my entire childhood through young adulthood, just soldiering on as if all people had to deal with it too. In truth, I just didn’t know any better or that other people weren't living this way.
But great news! There is a very simple test for any food related intolerance (glucose, gluten, lactose, fructose, etc) and I could actually get a definitive diagnosis. Imagine that? So, I suspect all these food related issues because of both physical and mental symptoms. Physical (bloating, constipation, gas, stomach pain, headaches, etc) and mental (depression, mood swings). The mental health field has always been a little abstract and qualitative rather than quantitative when it comes to diagnosis. There is no test for depression or PTSD or bipolar disorder or borderline personality disorder, etc. So if a simple, non-invasive test (hydrogen breath test) can be done to see if I have a dietary issue, that could explain and resolve my mental health related symptoms in addition to the physical ones, why the hell would I not want to do it!? Well, it doesn't help when you have no primary doctor, no health insurance and no money. The soonest appointment I could get with a gastroenterologist is in June. That's a long time to wait. Maybe the detox will reveal the intolerances, just as my going vegan "accidentally" revealed my lactose intolerance.
Many studies have shown that a third to almost half of people may have some kind of fructose malabsorption. If it’s that prevalent, why has no one ever heard of it? Is the high fructose corn syrup campaign too ominous and intimidating? I hate those commercials by the way. They are using people’s ignorance of the topic to make a generalization that HFCS is ok because nobody can seem to think of a single reason off the top of their head for why it is bad. Then they throw in, “if eaten in moderation” to somehow make up for calling us out on not knowing our facts about HFCS and making fun of us. They don’t educate us, just make us feel stupid. I think the big industries and lobbyists for those industries (sugar, dairy, meat) are what has screwed up our diets. Nobody is tune with what their actual body actually needs or even what it does not like, they just continue to glide along on the myths of conventional wisdom. Eat less carbs, more protein, HFCS is ok in moderation, eat more dairy, milk does a body good, etc. We have been deceived, but I’m going to do something about it. By starting to eat a radically different diet, I am starting to change the cycle.
So I am still going to do Dr. DesMaisons’ plan, but I am going to go about the last step differently. I think I should do a full fructose and sugar detox (eliminate fruits with high fructose to glucose ratios), and I’ll probably find better results than just eliminating sugar (table sugar, simple carbohydrates, syrups, etc). I have compiled a list of all of the sugar alias’ I could find and a list of all the recommended fruits/vegetables and those to avoid. I’m feeling a bit antsy about getting to the actual detox, but that could be a bad sign. Who looks forward to a complete moratorium on sugar? Or the horrible withdrawal symptoms that are similar to a drug detox? Ok, it is going to be hell, I don’t doubt that, but if I prepare well, I might just enjoy the potential results. So I’m going to move on to steps 2-5 (in addition to keeping up the dreaded food journal):
2. Eating three meals a day at regular intervals
3. Taking vitamins as recommended
4. Eating the recommended amount of protein at each meal
5. Adjusting your carbohydrate intake to include more complex foods
And here is why I’m going to smash all these steps together (despite DesMaisons advising us not to). What the hell, call me a rebel. Like I said before, this isn’t my first major dietary change and a lot of her steps I either already do or have done. I usually eat three full meals day, except every once in a while I skip breakfast, but eat later at work. I am going to try and find a B12 vitamin that doesn’t contain sugar (since mine currently does), and possibly start taking vitamins recommended for those doing a sugar detox (B vitamins, chromium, zinc, vitamin C). As for protein, I will try harder by including more beans, legumes, vegetables, tofu, rice, nuts, whole wheat foods into my diet. And for step 5, I’ve already done a complete overhaul on the simple carbohydrates (white flour products which our bodies use in the same way as sugar)—they are pretty much absent from my diet. And just to clarify, I'm not eliminating sugar from my diet forever. That would be silly.
So, I’ll start tweaking my diet for the next week or so, buying vegan sugar-free snacks and naturally sweet foods to curb cravings and lowering my sugar intake. When I’m finally ready to start the sugar/fructose detox, I don’t think anybody is going to want to be around me for a while.
Not even me.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Potatoes Not Prozac
Update: I have a roommate! And I'm moving into my new apartment in two glorious days!!!
I always thought I was a pretty intuitive person when it came to my own body and self. But I'm finding that I was dead wrong. Take, for example, that I spent 24 years of my life not knowing that I had a dairy allergy. (And my own dad is lactose intolerant!). I'm still not clear on the difference between a dairy/milk allergy and lactose intolerance, but being constipated, bloated, gassy and miserable on an almost daily basis is not normal. How did I finally discover this allergy? I went Vegan about a year ago and accidentally found out. I had never been without dairy long enough to see that I didn't have to just grin and bear it when it came to my GI issues. I mean, who talks about that kind of thing in regular conversation? "So, how's your gastrointestinal tract doing lately?" Diet really does affect our health, both physically and mentally, in ways we have never imagined. We are all told to drink our milk everyday for strong bones. And we are punished for not doing it (as kids). So when we grow up and finally have the freedom (and emotional intelligence) to make our own decisions, we find out that not all conventional wisdom is true or the best for us. Case in point, me and dairy.
Which leads me to how we "deal" with so many emotional and mental disorders. I cringe at work when a co-worker is singled out for her behavior and the solution is always "they need to up her meds." It's disgusting that everyone thinks pills (like anti-depressants) can solve all your issues, or that "upping" the dosage is the answer. Actually, people on anti-depressants have to continually increase the dosage for the medications to keep working. Otherwise your body builds up a tolerance (like with any drug) and they no longer have the desired affect. But medications and even therapy can only do so much. I don't pretend to know anymore than my own experience and research affords, but I have been through it. I have been at the highest possible dosage on an anti-depressant and "peeked." After weaning myself off the medication (under the supervision of a psychiatrist), I felt my mind clear up and the "fog" that encompassed my entire life had lifted. I had energy and physically felt lighter and better. But over the past six months or so, my period of neutrality dissolved into intense mood swings and a completely unstable sense of self. Never in my life had I thought about suicide on such a frequent basis (several times a week) or actually set out my entire inventory of pills wondering if I had enough to end it all. For a time I felt "dangerous," and that at any second I might go from feeling fine to wanting to be dead. In a split second. I had to organize my life around my moods, not planning anything too far in the future for fear that I wouldn't feel up to it. I had trouble keeping important people in my life in the loop because I'd be fine one minute during our phone conversation, then less than an hour later I'd be crying and throwing things at the walls. They'd call back a day later and think I was still doing great, even though I had plummeted into a severe depression and wanted nothing to do with them.
As I said, drugs and therapy can only do so much, which is why I'm turning my focus onto diet (not to be confused with a diet). As I told you, I am Vegan, so what I eat is nowhere near the average western diet. I eat mostly whole grains, fresh fruits and veggies, and minimally processed foods. That being said, I still have my hang ups. I have been an on and off binge eater for most of my young adult life. A huge emotional eater, though many people would act surprised, I was on the borderline of being overweight in college (5'6" and 150 lbs). After going Vegan and losing my appetite due to anti-depressants, I lost 20 lbs. And though the numbers go up and down a few pounds at any given time, I've pretty much kept it off. Except I feel fat, "heavy" and out of shape. I feel like most of that weight lost was muscle, which makes me very upset. My arms have turned to jello and with the winter weather I haven't always been able to ride my bike (my main source of exercise). My intense mood swings have also led me to believe that I may be more than just depressed and perhaps have bipolar II (hypomanic episodes rather than full manic episodes). I fit the "symptoms" like a glove. My therapist refuses to give me a label which I crave more than a warm fudgey brownie, so I'm only speculating or "self-diagnosing" here. Therapists hate when you self-diagnose. I think they feel threatened...
I was in a St. Vincent's thrift store the other day and randomly picked up a copy of "Potatoes Not Prozac" by Kathleen DesMaisons, PH.D. The book is basically about how some people can be sugar-sensitive and that excess sugar can throw off the balances of blood sugar, serotonin and beta-endorphin levels in our bodies, leading to many problems like mood swings. I fit her profile for being "sugar-sensitive." In the last several months, the universe seems to be pointing me in the direction of thinking about sugar. In my apartment search I met a girl who had a sugar addiction and was currently not eating sugar (only minimal sugar was allowed in the house). Then I had one of those darn "ah-ha" moments when I watched an Oprah episode on Type II Diabetes (the lifestyle induced kind, not the genetic kind). We are consuming much more sugar than our bodies have evolved to handle. And even as a Vegan, I am still getting too much sugar and probably simple carbohydrates as well (complex carbs are the ones you want). Even if you aren't eating loads of white bread products and sugary snacks, sugar lurks in practically everything from juice drinks to protein energy bars. And I confess that I'm no only addicted to chocolate like everybody else, but also Clif Bars. Mmmm.
So sugar is addictive and works like a drug, we all eat too much sugar in our diets (especially hidden sugar), and we crave sugar-laden foods like we are starving to death (even though we aren't even hungry!). So what to do about it? Well, don't go cold turkey and completely eliminate sugar from your diet. You'll only have withdrawal symptoms and come crawling back to the all the same foods and need even more to get your usual fix. I'll be the first to admit I'm skeptical about following seven-step or ten-step or any number of step plans to get to "a better you." But I'm going to try Dr. DesMaisons plan to see if this sugar thing is what is making me fly off the handle like a fucking crazy person. I don't want to be put back on anti-depressants or mood stabilizers. And I'll be honest, I HATE therapy. Not to mention it's way expensive and makes me feel "less than" good about myself.
This plan has seven steps:
1. Keeping a food journal (I've done it all before, but maybe this time I'll try harder...)
2. Eating three meals a day at regular intervals (and a couple healthy snacks?)
3. Taking vitamins as recommended (I take B12 as it only comes from animal sources)
4. Eating the recommended amount of protein at each meal (might be difficult as I detest tofu, but there's always seitan and tempeh which are even worse!)
5. Adjusting your carbohydrate intake to include more complex foods (bring on the potatoes and beans)
6. Reducing or eliminating sugars, including alcohol (here comes the really hard part...)
7. Creating a plan for maintenance (vague much?)
So here I go...I'll blog about my progress through each step and see if over time, my mood swings and instability level out. Keep in mind that through all of this I will be going to weekly therapy sessions, but am not on any medication.
I know my new living situation will help immensely with the irritability and anger spells, but underneath it all is the overwhelming feeling of something not being right. I want that to go away. I need to feel real and worthy and happy again. I need potatoes, not Prozac.
I always thought I was a pretty intuitive person when it came to my own body and self. But I'm finding that I was dead wrong. Take, for example, that I spent 24 years of my life not knowing that I had a dairy allergy. (And my own dad is lactose intolerant!). I'm still not clear on the difference between a dairy/milk allergy and lactose intolerance, but being constipated, bloated, gassy and miserable on an almost daily basis is not normal. How did I finally discover this allergy? I went Vegan about a year ago and accidentally found out. I had never been without dairy long enough to see that I didn't have to just grin and bear it when it came to my GI issues. I mean, who talks about that kind of thing in regular conversation? "So, how's your gastrointestinal tract doing lately?" Diet really does affect our health, both physically and mentally, in ways we have never imagined. We are all told to drink our milk everyday for strong bones. And we are punished for not doing it (as kids). So when we grow up and finally have the freedom (and emotional intelligence) to make our own decisions, we find out that not all conventional wisdom is true or the best for us. Case in point, me and dairy.
Which leads me to how we "deal" with so many emotional and mental disorders. I cringe at work when a co-worker is singled out for her behavior and the solution is always "they need to up her meds." It's disgusting that everyone thinks pills (like anti-depressants) can solve all your issues, or that "upping" the dosage is the answer. Actually, people on anti-depressants have to continually increase the dosage for the medications to keep working. Otherwise your body builds up a tolerance (like with any drug) and they no longer have the desired affect. But medications and even therapy can only do so much. I don't pretend to know anymore than my own experience and research affords, but I have been through it. I have been at the highest possible dosage on an anti-depressant and "peeked." After weaning myself off the medication (under the supervision of a psychiatrist), I felt my mind clear up and the "fog" that encompassed my entire life had lifted. I had energy and physically felt lighter and better. But over the past six months or so, my period of neutrality dissolved into intense mood swings and a completely unstable sense of self. Never in my life had I thought about suicide on such a frequent basis (several times a week) or actually set out my entire inventory of pills wondering if I had enough to end it all. For a time I felt "dangerous," and that at any second I might go from feeling fine to wanting to be dead. In a split second. I had to organize my life around my moods, not planning anything too far in the future for fear that I wouldn't feel up to it. I had trouble keeping important people in my life in the loop because I'd be fine one minute during our phone conversation, then less than an hour later I'd be crying and throwing things at the walls. They'd call back a day later and think I was still doing great, even though I had plummeted into a severe depression and wanted nothing to do with them.
As I said, drugs and therapy can only do so much, which is why I'm turning my focus onto diet (not to be confused with a diet). As I told you, I am Vegan, so what I eat is nowhere near the average western diet. I eat mostly whole grains, fresh fruits and veggies, and minimally processed foods. That being said, I still have my hang ups. I have been an on and off binge eater for most of my young adult life. A huge emotional eater, though many people would act surprised, I was on the borderline of being overweight in college (5'6" and 150 lbs). After going Vegan and losing my appetite due to anti-depressants, I lost 20 lbs. And though the numbers go up and down a few pounds at any given time, I've pretty much kept it off. Except I feel fat, "heavy" and out of shape. I feel like most of that weight lost was muscle, which makes me very upset. My arms have turned to jello and with the winter weather I haven't always been able to ride my bike (my main source of exercise). My intense mood swings have also led me to believe that I may be more than just depressed and perhaps have bipolar II (hypomanic episodes rather than full manic episodes). I fit the "symptoms" like a glove. My therapist refuses to give me a label which I crave more than a warm fudgey brownie, so I'm only speculating or "self-diagnosing" here. Therapists hate when you self-diagnose. I think they feel threatened...
I was in a St. Vincent's thrift store the other day and randomly picked up a copy of "Potatoes Not Prozac" by Kathleen DesMaisons, PH.D. The book is basically about how some people can be sugar-sensitive and that excess sugar can throw off the balances of blood sugar, serotonin and beta-endorphin levels in our bodies, leading to many problems like mood swings. I fit her profile for being "sugar-sensitive." In the last several months, the universe seems to be pointing me in the direction of thinking about sugar. In my apartment search I met a girl who had a sugar addiction and was currently not eating sugar (only minimal sugar was allowed in the house). Then I had one of those darn "ah-ha" moments when I watched an Oprah episode on Type II Diabetes (the lifestyle induced kind, not the genetic kind). We are consuming much more sugar than our bodies have evolved to handle. And even as a Vegan, I am still getting too much sugar and probably simple carbohydrates as well (complex carbs are the ones you want). Even if you aren't eating loads of white bread products and sugary snacks, sugar lurks in practically everything from juice drinks to protein energy bars. And I confess that I'm no only addicted to chocolate like everybody else, but also Clif Bars. Mmmm.
So sugar is addictive and works like a drug, we all eat too much sugar in our diets (especially hidden sugar), and we crave sugar-laden foods like we are starving to death (even though we aren't even hungry!). So what to do about it? Well, don't go cold turkey and completely eliminate sugar from your diet. You'll only have withdrawal symptoms and come crawling back to the all the same foods and need even more to get your usual fix. I'll be the first to admit I'm skeptical about following seven-step or ten-step or any number of step plans to get to "a better you." But I'm going to try Dr. DesMaisons plan to see if this sugar thing is what is making me fly off the handle like a fucking crazy person. I don't want to be put back on anti-depressants or mood stabilizers. And I'll be honest, I HATE therapy. Not to mention it's way expensive and makes me feel "less than" good about myself.
This plan has seven steps:
1. Keeping a food journal (I've done it all before, but maybe this time I'll try harder...)
2. Eating three meals a day at regular intervals (and a couple healthy snacks?)
3. Taking vitamins as recommended (I take B12 as it only comes from animal sources)
4. Eating the recommended amount of protein at each meal (might be difficult as I detest tofu, but there's always seitan and tempeh which are even worse!)
5. Adjusting your carbohydrate intake to include more complex foods (bring on the potatoes and beans)
6. Reducing or eliminating sugars, including alcohol (here comes the really hard part...)
7. Creating a plan for maintenance (vague much?)
So here I go...I'll blog about my progress through each step and see if over time, my mood swings and instability level out. Keep in mind that through all of this I will be going to weekly therapy sessions, but am not on any medication.
I know my new living situation will help immensely with the irritability and anger spells, but underneath it all is the overwhelming feeling of something not being right. I want that to go away. I need to feel real and worthy and happy again. I need potatoes, not Prozac.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Welcome to my Freakdom
There are some things that I have no problem admitting. I'm a shameless neat freak. There you have it. I've noticed in approximately 99% of the housing ads on Craigslist people make a point to say that they are relatively neat "but not a freak about it." And then there's the fact that I'm a grammar Natzi. Anyone who knows me well understands this about me. Poor grammar is a major turn off. While smokers or owning a hundred pound pit bull may be deal breakers for some roommate hunters, bad grammar is something I just can't get past. Welcome to my Freakdom.
I'd like to show you what I mean about the grammar thing. Here are two emails I received in response to my roommate wanted ad posted on Craigslist (I've removed names and emails).
EMAIL #1
"I am interested in taking up the room you have available for rent,i am an occupational nurse,Respectful and easy to get along with.28yrs old,I dont have any pet,but i am pet friendly,dont keep late nights and am straight female with no drama,pls do get back to me if you are looking to rent out asap let me know all that i needs to know about the place.
please have the requirements sent in these form.....
*Total rent Required before moving in
* Utility Bills Do get back to me if the room is still available
Thanks and God bless."
Should I make it clear that proper grammar is absolutely vital if you want me to take you seriously and that the very mention of "God" is a definite 'no fucking way'?
You might not have any "pet" and have a "needs" to know more about the apartment, but I'm sorry, randomly Capitalizing words and not leavingaspacebetweenwords is a major turn off. Why the hell did you feel the need to tell me that you're a "straight" female anyway? Don't even get me started on your run on sentences, lack of apostrophes and bizarre wording. It might be a little harsh, but unless English is your second language, this is pathetic.
EMAIL #2
"Hello There ,
My name is --------, I'm a student from Alaska USA, am coming pertaining to my research course on tourism and culturism, i'll like to know if you have the room advertised on the site still available for rent. I'll like to know more about you,the neighborhood,the room size and total move in cost including untilities cost. You can mail me back at --------------, i really need a place asap.Thanks as i await your reply.
Hope to read from you soonest."
Poor grammar, redundant, spelling errors, awkward sentences, no spaces after commas or too many spaces. "i'll like to know" nothing more about you, dear. Then there's this: "Hope to read from you soonest." WTF!?
Maybe my standards are just too high. I'm not asking for perfection, but really folks? I have an eye for grammar and spelling errors and I'm constantly finding these mistakes in all kinds of printed material. Books, posters, memos, ads, magazines, newspapers, etc. I'd make a great editor, but my lack of an English degree makes that difficult. Does an English minor count? I have one of those!
Maybe I've become exasperated about grammar because all too often some ass hole makes me look bad because he didn't edit properly. Take for instance, my debut into the published world in my university's literary magazine. My two poems and short story were so fraught with errors that I practically hyperventilated when it came out. I have two copies of the lit mag: one untouched and the other all marked up with corrections. There are typos, spacing errors, words smashed together, extra quote marks, and this: "hends" instead of "friends." It was in perfect form when I submitted it, but someone felt the need to destroy it in the publishing process. The guy who edited my work must have been drunk or typing with his toes or a fucking idiot. As you can see, I'm still a little bitter about this. Actually, A LOT bitter. Wouldn't you be?
I'd like to show you what I mean about the grammar thing. Here are two emails I received in response to my roommate wanted ad posted on Craigslist (I've removed names and emails).
EMAIL #1
"I am interested in taking up the room you have available for rent,i am an occupational nurse,Respectful and easy to get along with.28yrs old,I dont have any pet,but i am pet friendly,dont keep late nights and am straight female with no drama,pls do get back to me if you are looking to rent out asap let me know all that i needs to know about the place.
please have the requirements sent in these form.....
*Total rent Required before moving in
* Utility Bills Do get back to me if the room is still available
Thanks and God bless."
Should I make it clear that proper grammar is absolutely vital if you want me to take you seriously and that the very mention of "God" is a definite 'no fucking way'?
You might not have any "pet" and have a "needs" to know more about the apartment, but I'm sorry, randomly Capitalizing words and not leavingaspacebetweenwords is a major turn off. Why the hell did you feel the need to tell me that you're a "straight" female anyway? Don't even get me started on your run on sentences, lack of apostrophes and bizarre wording. It might be a little harsh, but unless English is your second language, this is pathetic.
EMAIL #2
"Hello There ,
My name is --------, I'm a student from Alaska USA, am coming pertaining to my research course on tourism and culturism, i'll like to know if you have the room advertised on the site still available for rent. I'll like to know more about you,the neighborhood,the room size and total move in cost including untilities cost. You can mail me back at --------------, i really need a place asap.Thanks as i await your reply.
Hope to read from you soonest."
Poor grammar, redundant, spelling errors, awkward sentences, no spaces after commas or too many spaces. "i'll like to know" nothing more about you, dear. Then there's this: "Hope to read from you soonest." WTF!?
Maybe my standards are just too high. I'm not asking for perfection, but really folks? I have an eye for grammar and spelling errors and I'm constantly finding these mistakes in all kinds of printed material. Books, posters, memos, ads, magazines, newspapers, etc. I'd make a great editor, but my lack of an English degree makes that difficult. Does an English minor count? I have one of those!
Maybe I've become exasperated about grammar because all too often some ass hole makes me look bad because he didn't edit properly. Take for instance, my debut into the published world in my university's literary magazine. My two poems and short story were so fraught with errors that I practically hyperventilated when it came out. I have two copies of the lit mag: one untouched and the other all marked up with corrections. There are typos, spacing errors, words smashed together, extra quote marks, and this: "hends" instead of "friends." It was in perfect form when I submitted it, but someone felt the need to destroy it in the publishing process. The guy who edited my work must have been drunk or typing with his toes or a fucking idiot. As you can see, I'm still a little bitter about this. Actually, A LOT bitter. Wouldn't you be?
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