No news and #iquitsugar week 3

Tags

Anxiety, As You Like It, blood sugar levels, Christmas, detox, Easter, Father’s Day, gluten denial, guardian angel-type people, Halloween, Hashimoto’s, I Quit Sugar, joblessness, Mother's Day, Shakespeare, sugar, sugar addiction, swings and roundabouts, Thanksgiving, trick or treating, Valentine's Day, worry

An empty street stage in a Melbourne laneway, waits for its actors

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts…

~ Shakespeare, As You Like It

Joblessness

In case you were wondering, the saying “no news is good news” is a crock o’… you-know-what.

Waiting, waiting and waiting to hear back about various leads from recruitment agencies. Sometimes the company withdraws an advertised job for financial reasons, or suddenly they’ve hired someone by other channels. Yet all the recruiters tell me what an amazing skill set I have! Often I’m just not getting a look in. Even with short term jobs that don’t pay as much as I normally get paid, but that I’d be willing to do just to have some cash flow happening.

I like to imagine that the Universe has a hand in this. As in, I won’t be placed in a job if it isn’t good for my health or stress levels etc. Ironically, having no job at all is NOT good for those things either.

It’s a case of swings and roundabouts, as the saying goes.

Then again, being in the thick of an undesirable situation is never as bad as worrying about what might happen if such a thing comes to pass. In the last weeks of my contract role, my belly was very unhappy with all of the anxiety and so (excuse the TMI) I had the runs.

Now I’m all unemployed with no new job lined up, the runs (sorry!) have cleared up. I’m getting a lot more sleep, and taking time to do the things I need to do. So that’s actually nourishing for my health. As long as I keep faith that the Universe will provide, then my stress levels are under control, too.

Plus, I find myself surrounded by lovely guardian angel-type people. Folks I wouldn’t have met had it not been for this blog, yet they are kinder and more giving than my own family.

Two such angels are Nadine and Kerry, whom I’ve talked a lot about recently. Let’s just say they are beautiful people as well as being excellent at what they do. I’m so grateful to have them in my life! Thank you! xxx

Quittin’ sugar, week 3

Last week I was dealing with a box of chocolates that I really didn’t want in my life. Bloody hell. I had some of them.

But the funny thing is that I didn’t want to consume them all like I would have before starting my sugar detox.

In fact I’ve noticed that the less sugar I have, the less I want it all. Very. Interesting.

Today at the supermarket I again noticed an absolute homage to sugar at checkouts, hoping to catch people at a weak moment.

I also really saw for the first time just how much sugar is tied to holiday occasions: Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Easter, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and birthdays.

You folks in the US also have Thanksgiving and Halloween. I understand there’s even a Thanksgiving dish that involves marshmallows! Let’s not even talk about the diabetes in waiting sugar situation known as trick or treating.

Anyway, like I said before: the less I have, the less I want. Conversely the more sugar I have, the more often I want it. Which is a telltale sign of addiction.

Big business bets on this addiction by including sugar in most of our processed foods. So then those extra treats at the checkout are harder to resist because there’s already plenty of sugar in our body, crying out for the next fix!

I recall certain periods in my life where I HAD to have chocolate every single day. But no longer, because this autoimmune condition of mine does much better when my blood sugar levels are balanced. Too much sugar and my body freaks out!

Honestly, I consider that a blessing.

So this week as part of the detox, I’ve been upping the ratio of good fats in my diet. Things like avocados (which are crazy cheap right now), pumpkin seeds, coconut oil, certain cheeses etc. Unsaturated fats in small doses that quickly sate my appetite and provide much needed nutrients.

In addition, I’m eating more vegetables and organic/free range meat. Plenty of water, coconut water, green tea, tulsi tea and chai.

Basically, it’s all going well and I don’t seem to be missing sugar at all. For now. Apparently it gets harder in a few more weeks…

Also: gluten denial!

Oooh boy. I confess I’ve been majorly in denial about gluten.

Only certain types of food containing gluten cause me real physical grief, specifically things like bread and pizza. In small doses I can handle dumplings (my weakness)…

But gluten is gluten.

Part of me really hates the idea of being all “special needs” with my food and this fuels my occasional rebellion.

However all the reading I’ve done on Hashimoto’s strongly recommends going gluten-free.

So I’ve had a very stern talk with myself: *clears throat* Even if we’re not having an obvious physical reaction to gluten (hello, dumplings that aren’t gluten-free!), that doesn’t mean its okay to eat it. And no, we can’t occasionally have pizza with gluten just because it’s more convenient. That’s dumb-ass, young lady, and we know it’ll hurt! So. Just. Stop.

Sheesh. Sometimes I’m very stubborn about the wrong things.

That’s all for now, y’all.

Oh! I do have a couple of things going on. I’m writing a couple of guest posts, and also maybe doing a bit of freelance work. More updates soon…

~Svasti

P.S. Please do send the Faeries In Charge of Jobs and Abundance over to my house for a spell, okay?

Keeping mum

Tags

Adoption, Depression, Empathy, Family, Half-brother, Mother as Guru, Mother's Day, PTSD, Therapy

I’ve got some confessions to share with y’all. And some venting.

Today is Mother’s day. I’ve always had a problem with those cards expressing gooey sentiments about wonderful mythical mothers who are loving and generous to their children. I’ve felt a little guilty that I don’t feel that way about my own mother… that I’ve never once wanted to write ‘thanks for being a great mum’ on her card…

Anyway, the family plans for today changed when mum came down with a nasty dose of the flu, all aches and pains and totally bed-ridden. So, Mother’s day lunch was transferred to my sister and brother-in-law’s place with everyone except mum.

Sorry as I am that she’s unwell, to be honest it was something of a relief that mum wasn’t there. Sounds horrible, I know.

Jaliya has written a thought-provoking post for Mother’s day, and the innate ability within us all to develop mothering-type qualities. Even if we aren’t mothers, or even females.

In Tantra and Hindu traditions, one’s mother is considered the first Guru (teacher) – for many years, the mother is everything to the child. Then, as the child gains independence, the mother’s role morphs to provide support, love and advice, but her life-sustaining qualities are no longer required. All children eventually need other teachers.

While I understand the reasons its hard for mothers to let go, it’s crucial for the health of the parent/child relationship. Mothers and fathers must learn to adapt their ‘job description’, for want of a better term… to grow with their children and enable new ways of relating to them.

So I confess… I love both my parents, but I’m finding increasingly difficult to have a relationship with my mum.

Partly, the reason for that has to do with her inability to see me as an adult. The few months I spent living at my parents’ place revealed this very clearly.

The other part of the problem has to do with our seemingly incompatible emotional states.

As I’ve mentioned before, my mother had a child out of wedlock in the 60’s. The method of dealing with such things in Australia at the time was to put pressure on young mothers to give their children up for adoption.

This happened to my mother. Between the doctor and my nan, mum was coerced into giving up her child (one she almost died giving birth to). She wasn’t allowed to see her boyfriend, and never saw her newborn child.

There’s way more to this story than I’ll ever know, and I’ve heard plenty. Neither my grandmother or mother have a penchant for telling the truth. Rather, they’re both proficient at re-writing history to suit their tastes. Possibly, this has coloured my desire to be as utterly and painfully truthful with myself and other people as I can be.

According to my mother, nan destroyed the adoption papers and told mum they would never speak of the matter again. She was expected to keep it all a secret. And she did that for a long, long time.

When she met my father, mum did tell him at some point. Maybe part of the reason they suited each other is because she doesn’t want to let stuff out, and he colludes with her desire to remain as she is…

Because of the ‘lost’ papers, mum never knew her son’s exact date of birth (til they met decades later – another story). She only knew it was some time in February. And apparently she’d always ‘go a little funny’ around that time of year. Not that I ever noticed, because while growing up my experience of mum was that of an emotional yo-yo. There was always a crisis, she was always mad about something and then in tears. We kids would have to be quiet, say nothing, and walk on egg-shells for days afterwards to avoid any flare-ups.

Eventually, I was told about my half-brother, but sworn into secrecy too (which I found to be rather impossible). I’ve given as much support to mum as I’ve been permitted… I was there to support her the first time she met him, suggested ways to get professional help, and talked to her about it whenever she felt like talking.

However as the years passed, I noticed her unavailability whenever I was a mess. I don’t mean physically, just emotionally. If I called in tears, she couldn’t find anything to say. So she’d say things that were just… inappropriate… awkward… strange.

My sister and I gradually realised that mum has no plans to ever put down the mantle of her life-wounds. In fact, I’m certain she intends to carry them to the grave.

All of which means she has no capacity for other people’s issues. This has been particularly hard for me in the last few years, while I’ve been dealing with depression and a vicious case of PTSD.

Except for the weekend directly after the assault, I was never once asked how I was doing. There wasn’t a single attempt to find out what happened, offer support or even anything practical. And there was a long time there when I could barely take care of myself. Cooking was impossible. Getting out of bed was outrageously tough.

But it wasn’t just a lack of care from mum – seems to be a trait going back generations on both sides of the family. And maybe that’s part of the reason I over-share, and feel the need to talk about things so much? I seem to be the polar opposite of my family in so many ways!

Then, maybe I’m like her in other ways… do I focus too much on what’s happening in my life to the detriment of those I love? Perhaps sadly, I do…

It’s been an added source of pain, and I’ve often discussed it in therapy – it’s natural to want to turn to one’s family in times of need. But mine is not available.

Additionally, things haven’t exactly been good between mum and I since I stayed with my folks after my return from Thailand.

But it’s tough to resolve problems with someone who won’t talk, and lets you know they’re mad in very subtle ways, every time they see you. So, we’ve limped along in this half-life of a familial bond for months now… when I lost my job, mum didn’t call me, not even once.

On one level, I really do find it hard to understand how my own mother has no empathy for the suffering of others. Even though I understand what she’s been through.

But my own experiences of trauma cause me to feel for others very much, and it’s generated a desire to help other people.

And so, on this Mother’s day, day of thanks for the gift of this life, I find myself glad I didn’t have to see my own mother.

It’s not something I’m proud of – it just is what it is… part of my process of recovery, I suspect.

~Svasti