Last week I had a wee revelation about what it means to take care of myself. I already thought I was pretty good at that. I let myself laze around and read mysteries when I'm stressed. I always get enough sleep. I catch myself quickly when I'm being hard on myself, and I check in with my husband or a friend when something is bothering me, so I can work it out without it dragging on and draining me. I stopped drinking. It sounds pretty good, right?
But I wasn't feeling great. I realized that, while the first time I quit drinking (back in July 2013) I felt healthy and energized, lately I was feeling a little bit logy and a little bit foggy more often than made sense. Yes, I have some stress going on, with writing a thesis and having some school applications in process, but I've had these kinds of stresses on and off since I went back to school a few years ago, and they didn't seem to have the same effect.
Might be an age thing, pre-meno, sure. But I started to think about what I could do to feel better. And I made a decision: It was time to slay the sugar monster!
After a few months getting back into the groove of not drinking again, I had found myself eating a lot of sugar. I mean, a lot! I know, lots of people go through this. But for years, I'd got used to eating a very low sugar diet, and it suited me. The first time I quit drinking, I was quite annoyed by how many people encouraged me to eat cake and ice cream, something I generally didn't do because I learned years ago that feel a bit crappy when I have too much sugar. Over time I kind of gave in. I figured some of the pleasures of sweet treats would be OK. First I was cheerfully having dessert when I ate out, which was only once in a while. But eventually, I was going to the bakery most afternoons, or grabbing a sugary trail bar or a cookie at school, or nibbling on toast at home. Since quitting drinking again this past fall, I seemed to be relying on sweets in a way that I hadn't in years.
Recently I've had a recurring eye infection that was resisting treatment. I was feeling brain foggy and slow and a bit podgy. I had even started baking, which meant licking the batter bowl, and having sweets on hand all the time, without even having to leave the house! I'd noticed that when I went to a certain bakery, I was a little too intense about wanting the golden beet cake with cream cheese icing. There were also a couple of uncomfortable incidents with almond croissants, and once I ended up apologizing to the lovely woman at the counter because she'd sold me the last one and then was letting her coworker serve it to someone else. (Imagine an otherwise pleasant middle-aged woman morphing into a cranky toddler and saying, in a sharp and not too quiet voice, "Hey, isn't that MY croissant?!!" It was, but still, there's no need to bite someone's head off about it. Jeepers.) I felt about those croissants the way I used to about my favourite wine, and seeing it served to someone else (after I'd bought it!) was like watching someone pour the last of the bottle into their own glass. Just writing it makes me feel unstable! Everything about the way I was eating sweets was looking like the way I used to drink. Except it was something I could do any time of day, not just during the evening. Dang! Last Tuesday, I decided that was enough, and I stopped.
Now I'm not trying some fancy new regime here. Just no sugar. And no bread. Easy on the fruit. Lots of veg and fish and plenty of butter and olive oil and eggs and some meat and cheese and nuts, that sort of thing. When I ate like this before, it seemed to suit me well. I know it sounds like I'm talking about restrictions, but the restrictions set me up to structure healthy meals instead of basing my food choices around sweets and convenience.
Already I feel more energized. I started running again, just a little, which suits me. And I've been cycling, something I love but had really stopped doing. And drinking lots of water, and teas. I'm down a couple of pounds and have lost a few inches off the waist already, and my eye is clearing up. It hasn't been hard, and I feel pretty good about it.
It's tricky to try to find how to take care of ourselves. In the recovery world, there are so many voices, and they all offer solutions that sound beguiling. Some advocate a treats-based regimen, others do yoga. Some people run, some meditate. People go to meetings or they don't, or they go back and forth on that one. Some people pray, others are committed atheists. Some find themselves through introspection, others lose themselves in service. I like trying new things, but it's a fine line between trying some new things to see if they suit and adopting new bad habits to replace the old ones. That's what I think I had been doing with food. So to me, these days, taking care means paying attention to what's not working, and stopping that. It means getting back to what seems to work for me, which is--it's not rocket science here--eating well and exercising enough!
On a bigger scale, I think all of my regular versions of self care fall under giving myself a break. But taking care might sometimes mean the opposite. It could be getting up early to work on my thesis so I have another page or two written. It might mean running when I'm feeling lazy (how about right now?) or cycling in the rain because I'll feel better once I do. I used to be better at all this. Somehow, I think I adopted the idea that quitting drinking was such a herculean task, so any discomfort I had about anything else had to be assuaged because I wasn't drinking and I deserved it. But that's silly. Getting sober is great, but it's something I did so I could live more fully. Letting myself off the hook once in a while when I'm feeling challenged is probably necessary. But sometimes, maybe even often, pushing myself is probably closer to what I need to do to take good care of myself.
Anyway, that's where I am these days. Just taking care, and keeping on trying to figure out what that means to me.
If you're still here, thanks for reading. I hope you're finding out how to best take care of yourself, too. Me, I'm heading out for a short run! Peace and joy and happy trails to you!
Showing posts with label sugar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sugar. Show all posts
Tuesday, 2 February 2016
Wednesday, 2 April 2014
Round 2, Day 86: Cutting the crap, feeling pretty good.
I'm just 5 days away from the 13-week goal I set myself back in January. After that, I guess I'll stop counting days again. I'm not really counting now, but when I post I look it up. The numbers are starting to matter a lot less. Initially it mattered a lot, though. I wanted to know where I was in the process compared to last time around, and when it was really tough, somehow it helped me a lot to see that I'd already done this once before. Now, at 12 weeks and a couple of days, I feel good. This not drinking thing has been a bit of work, but it's worth it!
This past week, I decided to make some changes in my eating. For the past couple of years, I've been eating mostly whole foods without much wheat or sugar, and it works for me. Last time when I quit drinking, I stayed pretty firm on this, and I was really healthy. I occasionally had a sweet, or ate a bit too much dark chocolate, but nothing too serious. This time, I fell into thinking that having sweets as "treats" was the way to go. What bollocks! I feel like crap when I eat a big wodge of cake or lots of sugar. Really, really crap. That's why I changed how I ate in the first place. So telling myself I deserve something that's going to make me feel awful, just because I'm avoiding something else that would make me feel awful, it's just nonsense. (Disclaimer: I'm not the wheat and sugar police. Eat what you want! I'm just saying I don't feel good when I eat it, and I shouldn't be doing that. Some people seem able to eat loads, and they do OK. If that's you, good for you, It's not me, that's all I'm saying.)
Anyway, about a week ago, I realized I'd had enough. I had a little talk with myself, the way I have to, and said, that's it, no second cup of coffee as soon as the first one is done, because my one cup is actually a 4 ounce espresso, and 2 of those means I'm vibrating. And no more mainlining honey, or heading out for that giant slice of carrot cake that puts me in a coma, just because it's the afternoon and I'm on a big deadline and it's hard to cope. Sometimes I do crave a sweet. But a crisp apple, cut into little chunks sprinkled with cinnamon and crumbled walnuts and topped with a couple of tablespoons of strained plain yoghurt, that's real food. I can eat that, get a little hit of sweet, without the icky belly or the jittery sugar high and subsequent crash. Also, because it's real food, I'm not hungry later, and the sweet craving goes. In the evening, after dinner, I have a cup of herbal tea and two or three squares of dark chocolate, the 75% or 85% kind. No one's deprived over here! It tastes good, I eat it very, very slowly, and if I want more, I can have it the next night after dinner.
Also, I started moving again. Again, though I'm usually super active, lately I have a strange schedule, and for a few weeks I'd got out of both running and biking. So if the sugar wasn't making me feel awful, being stuck indoors sitting on a chair sure was. Jeepers! Friday afternoon I went for a run in the driving rain, and I was so happy I was giddy! Why was I not doing this? I don't know. Somehow, I'd started to get caught in some very poor thinking, and I lost the focus on what makes me feel well. I was using deadlines as an excuse, but really, I'm going to be on deadlines for the next six years (six years!) or more, so if I have to wait till that's over before I take better care, I'm done for. I'm in this for the long haul, and it will only work if I find a way to live that I can keep doing.
It's just been a few days, but I feel a lot better already. There is something about going into the kitchen and having a sweet when I know it's not great for me that's so much like drinking. When I do that, I'm on a kind of autopilot, and everything I've learned about what works best for me exists in some numb other-self while I head for the sugar. It's such a strange feeling. And it's easy to start excusing it, because the ex-drinkers are mostly a sugar-happy lot, and will say that the sugar isn't the worst you can do, and you have to be careful not to do too much at once, so eat up. Fair enough. You can't start a whole bunch of new habits at the same time, and for the first few weeks after quitting the drink, there is some serious sweet craving going on. But I'm past that part now. Dropping all my healthy habits can't be good either. If exercise and good eating sustains me, then avoiding it as a reward just isn't on.
In other news: I'm not too concerned about booze these days. I don't miss it often, and when I do, it's pretty easy to get around. Two days ago, I submitted the final draft of my thesis (hooray!!!) and when I hit "send" on my email, I yelled, "Someone please remind me why I don't drink any more, because this right now would be a good time to drink!" My partner was in the kitchen, and he poured us sparkling glasses of something (not booze!) so we could raise a toast. All in all, I wanted a drink for about ten seconds. Surely I can resist the occasional ten-second impulse!
At the dinner party I attended the other night, it wasn't awkward not drinking and, except for a moment when we arrived and I saw the pretty bottles and glasses lined up on the counter, I didn't want wine. Yes, those moments are work to get through. But my point (reminding myself here) is, they are only moments, and then there's the whole evening to enjoy, not staying stuck in those moments.
Three more days on deadlines and I have a little reprieve. Time to get back to work here. It's sunny and warm outdoors, so if I get a few pages done, I can go for a long walk in the afternoon, then come back and write a bit more. So enough lolly-gagging here.
Wishing you all peace and joy and sunny afternoons!
This past week, I decided to make some changes in my eating. For the past couple of years, I've been eating mostly whole foods without much wheat or sugar, and it works for me. Last time when I quit drinking, I stayed pretty firm on this, and I was really healthy. I occasionally had a sweet, or ate a bit too much dark chocolate, but nothing too serious. This time, I fell into thinking that having sweets as "treats" was the way to go. What bollocks! I feel like crap when I eat a big wodge of cake or lots of sugar. Really, really crap. That's why I changed how I ate in the first place. So telling myself I deserve something that's going to make me feel awful, just because I'm avoiding something else that would make me feel awful, it's just nonsense. (Disclaimer: I'm not the wheat and sugar police. Eat what you want! I'm just saying I don't feel good when I eat it, and I shouldn't be doing that. Some people seem able to eat loads, and they do OK. If that's you, good for you, It's not me, that's all I'm saying.)
Anyway, about a week ago, I realized I'd had enough. I had a little talk with myself, the way I have to, and said, that's it, no second cup of coffee as soon as the first one is done, because my one cup is actually a 4 ounce espresso, and 2 of those means I'm vibrating. And no more mainlining honey, or heading out for that giant slice of carrot cake that puts me in a coma, just because it's the afternoon and I'm on a big deadline and it's hard to cope. Sometimes I do crave a sweet. But a crisp apple, cut into little chunks sprinkled with cinnamon and crumbled walnuts and topped with a couple of tablespoons of strained plain yoghurt, that's real food. I can eat that, get a little hit of sweet, without the icky belly or the jittery sugar high and subsequent crash. Also, because it's real food, I'm not hungry later, and the sweet craving goes. In the evening, after dinner, I have a cup of herbal tea and two or three squares of dark chocolate, the 75% or 85% kind. No one's deprived over here! It tastes good, I eat it very, very slowly, and if I want more, I can have it the next night after dinner.
Also, I started moving again. Again, though I'm usually super active, lately I have a strange schedule, and for a few weeks I'd got out of both running and biking. So if the sugar wasn't making me feel awful, being stuck indoors sitting on a chair sure was. Jeepers! Friday afternoon I went for a run in the driving rain, and I was so happy I was giddy! Why was I not doing this? I don't know. Somehow, I'd started to get caught in some very poor thinking, and I lost the focus on what makes me feel well. I was using deadlines as an excuse, but really, I'm going to be on deadlines for the next six years (six years!) or more, so if I have to wait till that's over before I take better care, I'm done for. I'm in this for the long haul, and it will only work if I find a way to live that I can keep doing.
It's just been a few days, but I feel a lot better already. There is something about going into the kitchen and having a sweet when I know it's not great for me that's so much like drinking. When I do that, I'm on a kind of autopilot, and everything I've learned about what works best for me exists in some numb other-self while I head for the sugar. It's such a strange feeling. And it's easy to start excusing it, because the ex-drinkers are mostly a sugar-happy lot, and will say that the sugar isn't the worst you can do, and you have to be careful not to do too much at once, so eat up. Fair enough. You can't start a whole bunch of new habits at the same time, and for the first few weeks after quitting the drink, there is some serious sweet craving going on. But I'm past that part now. Dropping all my healthy habits can't be good either. If exercise and good eating sustains me, then avoiding it as a reward just isn't on.
In other news: I'm not too concerned about booze these days. I don't miss it often, and when I do, it's pretty easy to get around. Two days ago, I submitted the final draft of my thesis (hooray!!!) and when I hit "send" on my email, I yelled, "Someone please remind me why I don't drink any more, because this right now would be a good time to drink!" My partner was in the kitchen, and he poured us sparkling glasses of something (not booze!) so we could raise a toast. All in all, I wanted a drink for about ten seconds. Surely I can resist the occasional ten-second impulse!
At the dinner party I attended the other night, it wasn't awkward not drinking and, except for a moment when we arrived and I saw the pretty bottles and glasses lined up on the counter, I didn't want wine. Yes, those moments are work to get through. But my point (reminding myself here) is, they are only moments, and then there's the whole evening to enjoy, not staying stuck in those moments.
Three more days on deadlines and I have a little reprieve. Time to get back to work here. It's sunny and warm outdoors, so if I get a few pages done, I can go for a long walk in the afternoon, then come back and write a bit more. So enough lolly-gagging here.
Wishing you all peace and joy and sunny afternoons!
Thursday, 19 September 2013
Listen. What do you want?
Lately I'm not finding that not drinking is a big problem. Yes, once in a while I want to, and no I don't, and it plays out more or less the same way. But I'm noticing some new patterns that parallel my troubled drinking pattern, and they need attention.
The other afternoon, reading in my study space after a good day of classes, I found myself a little bit hungry, so I ate some chocolate. Actually, I ate the whole bar. First three blocks, then three more, then the rest of the first half, and I put it away. Then, I took the bar back out of the drawer and ate the rest, voraciously. I want to say mindlessly, but it wasn't quite that. It was a weird combination of mindful and "who cares" that I recognize from pouring myself more wine when I knew I had had enough. It was really good, dark chocolate. I can't say I enjoyed it, nor can I say I didn't. It was more like the chocolate happened to me.
Some background on me and food: like many women, I have had a troubled relationship with food. I went through a lot of the usual: chubby 12-year-old became a dieting 14-year-old, then a skinny, occasionally fainting teenager who thought I was fat. I have dieted and exercised, been fit and fat, and left off the whole thing many times. Almost three years ago, I changed to eating a kind of paleo diet, which I still do in a modified sort of way. It didn't solve everything in the world, but I felt a lot better. I wasn't tired all the time. I could go a few hours without food and not have a shaking, weepy meltdown. No more massive mood swings, a lot less anxiety. I lost some weight, and kept it off without paying much attention. I was physically and emotionally a lot more stable. (It's hard to imagine doing all this and letting the alcohol problem creep back up and out of control, but I did.)
When I quit drinking (almost 3 months ago, hooray!) I didn't have the big booze cravings a lot of people talked about, and I didn't seem to have the same huge sugar cravings either. As much as there's cultural pressure to drink, there's also a lot of pressure to be kind to yourself and have cake, reward yourself with sweets, not worry about the sugar when you're tackling the booze. And yes, I did that a few times. The cake (and pie) was good, but I didn't fall into a cake-frenzy. I could see that pressure for what it is, and mostly it didn't get to me.
Yesterday afternoon, I was once again sitting in my study space reading after some long school hours. And I got a bit antsy. It was the kind of shifty feeling I would have answered with wine, and I'm getting better at recognizing those spells. No wine then. But that turned into, well, maybe some chocolate. I had a little talk with myself about having had the whole bar the day before, and what was all this about, but I remained antsy, so I decided to pack my things and go do something else. First I was heading for a coffee, but the coffee at my campus really is terrible. Then I thought I might just go home and have a coffee at a cafe near my house, and have something sweet along with it. There were lots of tasty possibilities. I put my bike on the bus for the first leg of the trip--it takes just over an hour, part busing and part biking. So I had some time to think.
What is it? I said to myself. Do you want cake? Another whole chocolate bar? And since I was trapped on the bus, I gave myself permission to have whatever it was I wanted once I got home, as long as it was really what I wanted. I thought about cake, and pie, and all the sweet things I might have, and I knew I'd feel kind of awful if I ate any of those. I thought about having some of my favourite thickened yoghurt with a spoonful of maple syrup, and that seemed more like it. But I wasn't hungry, and I knew it. Then I saw a truly horrific bakery sign. I think it's called Sugar Planet or something, with chipped blue paint and greasy windows. It's like the dive bar equivalent of a bakery. I thought, that looks gross. No sugar planet for me. Maybe I could buy some pears and have a pear and yoghurt for dessert after dinner. That OK? And yes, it was OK. But still I wondered, what is it? Why so antsy?
I didn't get a straight answer, or not right away. I enjoyed the bike ride part of the commute when I got to it, and once I arrived home, I read some blogs and then talked with my partner about my day. In the telling I realized my day had mostly been fine. I had some funny stories to tell, some good interactions with people that I wanted to share with him. My classes had gone well, and I got done most of what I had planned.
I kept paying attention to what was going on, though. At the butcher shop, the guy who was taking my pork chop order asked me too many questions, and I really did start to cry. He counselled me to get home and have a nice big glass of wine to straighten me out. But I said, "No I'm just tired. I need to go to bed." Was that it, I asked myself? Why could I tell it to the butcher when I didn't even know myself? I wasn't tempted by his wine suggestion, and by then, two hours after the antsy spell had started, I wasn't craving sweets either. I was just tired from my new early morning schedule and hard work at school, and the long bike rides, and all the social interaction that goes with taking classes and figuring out what's up next year and everything else.
So I could see that earlier, when I wanted that sweet something, I had been starting to do the what I have been doing for years, probably reverting to what I used to do before the drinking. When there's a whacking big something I don't want to feel, I give it food and drink and make it go away.
I'm not all that great at listening to what's really going on with me. I think that's common among serious drinkers, and it's also common in people who have used food to quench the emotions. So this seems small, but it was a big victory for me. Just listen. What is it? Yes, you can have cake if cake is what you want, but is it? Or is it a rest, or a change of pace, or a bike ride in the late afternoon sun, or just a change of scene while you keep working on school stuff? I'm new to this. But I figure, for a start, that whenever I'm suddenly overcome with a pressing need to eat a whole chocolate bar, it's not so different than when I want a drink. It's all is the same me, wanting something. I just need to learn to listen to find out what it is.
When I was small, whenever I'd get cranky or fussy, my grandmother would say, "Whisht child, whisht," and then she's give me a nice big glass of Tang to drink. (She added sugar to the Tang so it would be the way she liked it, nice and sweet!) I know this stuff runs deep. As an adult, sometimes when I've felt a bit wibbly, I would think of her saying that, and it would make me smile. Now I need something different. Instead of whisht, child, (loosely translated, it's a cross between "there, there"and "be quiet") I am asking myself, "What is it? What do you want?" And I'm trying to listen, to find out what it is I'm really thirsty and hungry for.
Whew! That's a whole lot of words from someone who is talking about listening. This is me, so far, 76 days sober and trying to figure this out. If you really did read all this, wow, thanks for reading! Happy late September to all.
The other afternoon, reading in my study space after a good day of classes, I found myself a little bit hungry, so I ate some chocolate. Actually, I ate the whole bar. First three blocks, then three more, then the rest of the first half, and I put it away. Then, I took the bar back out of the drawer and ate the rest, voraciously. I want to say mindlessly, but it wasn't quite that. It was a weird combination of mindful and "who cares" that I recognize from pouring myself more wine when I knew I had had enough. It was really good, dark chocolate. I can't say I enjoyed it, nor can I say I didn't. It was more like the chocolate happened to me.
Some background on me and food: like many women, I have had a troubled relationship with food. I went through a lot of the usual: chubby 12-year-old became a dieting 14-year-old, then a skinny, occasionally fainting teenager who thought I was fat. I have dieted and exercised, been fit and fat, and left off the whole thing many times. Almost three years ago, I changed to eating a kind of paleo diet, which I still do in a modified sort of way. It didn't solve everything in the world, but I felt a lot better. I wasn't tired all the time. I could go a few hours without food and not have a shaking, weepy meltdown. No more massive mood swings, a lot less anxiety. I lost some weight, and kept it off without paying much attention. I was physically and emotionally a lot more stable. (It's hard to imagine doing all this and letting the alcohol problem creep back up and out of control, but I did.)
When I quit drinking (almost 3 months ago, hooray!) I didn't have the big booze cravings a lot of people talked about, and I didn't seem to have the same huge sugar cravings either. As much as there's cultural pressure to drink, there's also a lot of pressure to be kind to yourself and have cake, reward yourself with sweets, not worry about the sugar when you're tackling the booze. And yes, I did that a few times. The cake (and pie) was good, but I didn't fall into a cake-frenzy. I could see that pressure for what it is, and mostly it didn't get to me.
Yesterday afternoon, I was once again sitting in my study space reading after some long school hours. And I got a bit antsy. It was the kind of shifty feeling I would have answered with wine, and I'm getting better at recognizing those spells. No wine then. But that turned into, well, maybe some chocolate. I had a little talk with myself about having had the whole bar the day before, and what was all this about, but I remained antsy, so I decided to pack my things and go do something else. First I was heading for a coffee, but the coffee at my campus really is terrible. Then I thought I might just go home and have a coffee at a cafe near my house, and have something sweet along with it. There were lots of tasty possibilities. I put my bike on the bus for the first leg of the trip--it takes just over an hour, part busing and part biking. So I had some time to think.
What is it? I said to myself. Do you want cake? Another whole chocolate bar? And since I was trapped on the bus, I gave myself permission to have whatever it was I wanted once I got home, as long as it was really what I wanted. I thought about cake, and pie, and all the sweet things I might have, and I knew I'd feel kind of awful if I ate any of those. I thought about having some of my favourite thickened yoghurt with a spoonful of maple syrup, and that seemed more like it. But I wasn't hungry, and I knew it. Then I saw a truly horrific bakery sign. I think it's called Sugar Planet or something, with chipped blue paint and greasy windows. It's like the dive bar equivalent of a bakery. I thought, that looks gross. No sugar planet for me. Maybe I could buy some pears and have a pear and yoghurt for dessert after dinner. That OK? And yes, it was OK. But still I wondered, what is it? Why so antsy?
I didn't get a straight answer, or not right away. I enjoyed the bike ride part of the commute when I got to it, and once I arrived home, I read some blogs and then talked with my partner about my day. In the telling I realized my day had mostly been fine. I had some funny stories to tell, some good interactions with people that I wanted to share with him. My classes had gone well, and I got done most of what I had planned.
I kept paying attention to what was going on, though. At the butcher shop, the guy who was taking my pork chop order asked me too many questions, and I really did start to cry. He counselled me to get home and have a nice big glass of wine to straighten me out. But I said, "No I'm just tired. I need to go to bed." Was that it, I asked myself? Why could I tell it to the butcher when I didn't even know myself? I wasn't tempted by his wine suggestion, and by then, two hours after the antsy spell had started, I wasn't craving sweets either. I was just tired from my new early morning schedule and hard work at school, and the long bike rides, and all the social interaction that goes with taking classes and figuring out what's up next year and everything else.
So I could see that earlier, when I wanted that sweet something, I had been starting to do the what I have been doing for years, probably reverting to what I used to do before the drinking. When there's a whacking big something I don't want to feel, I give it food and drink and make it go away.
I'm not all that great at listening to what's really going on with me. I think that's common among serious drinkers, and it's also common in people who have used food to quench the emotions. So this seems small, but it was a big victory for me. Just listen. What is it? Yes, you can have cake if cake is what you want, but is it? Or is it a rest, or a change of pace, or a bike ride in the late afternoon sun, or just a change of scene while you keep working on school stuff? I'm new to this. But I figure, for a start, that whenever I'm suddenly overcome with a pressing need to eat a whole chocolate bar, it's not so different than when I want a drink. It's all is the same me, wanting something. I just need to learn to listen to find out what it is.
When I was small, whenever I'd get cranky or fussy, my grandmother would say, "Whisht child, whisht," and then she's give me a nice big glass of Tang to drink. (She added sugar to the Tang so it would be the way she liked it, nice and sweet!) I know this stuff runs deep. As an adult, sometimes when I've felt a bit wibbly, I would think of her saying that, and it would make me smile. Now I need something different. Instead of whisht, child, (loosely translated, it's a cross between "there, there"and "be quiet") I am asking myself, "What is it? What do you want?" And I'm trying to listen, to find out what it is I'm really thirsty and hungry for.
Whew! That's a whole lot of words from someone who is talking about listening. This is me, so far, 76 days sober and trying to figure this out. If you really did read all this, wow, thanks for reading! Happy late September to all.
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