Well, the McCombs Candida Plan is effectively over. The last part of it is that I’m supposed to stay off dairy products until Feb. 21st, but actually I’m eating whatever I want at this point and it’s not good.
Since Juldmort my anxiety level gradually lessened until recently it finally slipped away. In the past week I’ve finally admitted that I no longer wake up with anxiety crawling through my gut like a snake. In fact, I wake up so peacefully I’ve resumed lolling in bed a bit after I wake up, delaying when I actually stand and start my morning. I could not do that from July into January, but now I can.
The meditation routine I put in place in October is now solid, as is my habit of taking a walk each morning before breakfast. And I started a gratitude practice on Christmas Eve that’s helping, too (you can join me in my gratitude practice here).
On New Year’s Day — after an eight-year absence — I returned to the gym. Since that day I’ve done a workout three mornings a week, leaving my apartment to join others at a membership gym. I used to fit the definition of a gym rat: working out five days a week at a punishingly early hour, pushing myself through strict, sweaty routines, maintaining a size 8 or 10 no matter what. Then I stopped, spend eight years becoming fat and out-of-shape, and didn’t know if I’d ever return.
Photo by Author’s friend
Well, I’ve finally returned because of a combination of being sick of the inside of my apartment, coronavirus loneliness, and a genuine desire to move my body again. The last time I had a gym membership I was driven by fear (of being fat, of being ugly, of being unattractive to men, of being unattractive to my husband). This time I’m there because moving feels good and so does being around people and being out of my home. It’s not fear-driven but pleasure-driven.
And the final piece of the puzzle (for now) has been breathing. I use a pranayama video as part of my meditation routine and it simultaneously energizes and relaxes me. After reading James Nestor’s book Breath, I’ve also stopped breathing out of my mouth and even tape my mouth shut at night. I look forward to the end of my snoring, better lung capacity and improved facial structure.
All of this has me feeling good! No depression, no anxiety snake, and my autophobia is down. (Autophobia is the fear of being by oneself. It makes me overbook so I’m too busy to feel alone. It also makes me turn on the shopping channel and the NPR radio station at the same time in an attempt to feel connected to others.) I once again feel content with my own company and each day I find things to be grateful for. I’ve even stopped beating up on myself (the way my mother taught me to do). Now I might think, “Jesus, how could I miss that?” but it’s empty of the disgust and anger I used to feel when I made mistakes. It’s a hollow gesture, a shadow of the self-hatred I used to practice.
So much terrible emotion is gone from my life now it’s remarkable. I enjoy daylight and winter snow and I’m proud to be the fat, graying middle-aged woman at the gym, defying stereotypes. At my core I am at peace.
What’s my response to all this goodness? I’m back on the sugar! Can you believe it? (Yes.) It’s like a part of me can’t stand feeling good and it has to sabotage, it just has to. I crave cookies and ice cream and pizza and cinnamon raisin toast (but it’s too cold for ice cream). I make buttercream frosting and eat it off of nuts and dried fruit. I rarely set foot in the 7-Eleven convenience store that’s two blocks from me, but lately I’ve started scurrying over there regularly for candy bars and hand-held fruit pies. I can’t stop thinking about layer cake.
Illustration115504015 ©Boonyen Dreamstime.com
I don’t want these things! More than ever I recognize them as poisonous substances that cause me stomach aches and cost me sleep. My upset stomach ruins my peaceful feelings and burping interrupts breathing through my nose. But every day my mood is good and my heart is calm and that seems to evoke a need to fuck it all up with junk food.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m so tired of this tug-of-war. God damn it.
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9 Feb 2021
I am happy to see you have emerged from the other end of a dark tunnel, partially brought on by Covid. I miss the gym and feel inspired to go now that I saw you working out in your mask. Those in my circle are reluctant to go to the gym, but having gained some unwanted Covid weight, it is essential that I do.
Flo, I’m glad I could inspire you. I haven’t seen any other middle-aged women at my gym, but I’m hopeful some will show up eventually. The photo in this post was taken at my friend’s gym. The gym I joined is a local neighborhood gym and I haven’t gotten around to asking someone to take my picture there. Working out with a mask on isn’t so bad, at least not when I’m starved for being around other people. Even though we don’t interact much, it’s feels good to be out of my apartment (VERY good, actually). There are so few people at gyms these days that it’s not hard to stay six feet apart.
I can so relate. Addicted to Unhappiness? Part of me is, yes. It’s an education watching that part react to things going well — too well, in fact. But now I’m a little wiser to it and have learned some of its tricks. I’m trying to focus on resetting to a new normal level of happy. With time. With time.
Andria, I sat with it last night and did an EFT-and-drawing exercise I learned from Lili. The craving doesn’t want anything. It’s just an agent of deeper feelings. But the EFT drawing exercise doesn’t require words, so I don’t have any insight into what’s going on besides fear. In the next couple of days I’ll find out if that exercise moved anything.
And by “drawing” I mean using colored pens to create a visual representation of what’s going on. The craving gremlin thing is red and black, but it didn’t turn out to be the focus because it’s just a henchman. (And the anxiety isn’t snakes, but just one thick snake that crawls through my bowels.)
It’s not how many times we fail that wins the fight with sugar, it’s ho many times we jump back up to fight that bastard.
What does the craving say if you ask it what it wants? What does it actually need?
What happens if you “sit with” the craving (which might be “stand still with” if you’re on the way to the convenience store). What is its shape? Color? The anxiety was snakes, what is the craving?
Just curious.
Ooh so many topics. All very relatable. I want to meditate too. Need to learn. Love cin raisin toast. Love that you are moving your body for you, love that you have little to no anxiety because that is a beast! And the need to sabotage at all. Can we ever have a fairy tale ending?! I don’t think they exist.
No, there are no happy endings. Life is just hard and then it’s hard and then it’s hard.