My diet & detox journal

What I am about to share is my history~
Perhaps it may surprise you, but I believe that we are all wounded healers…

As readers of my blog and friends and family know, for many years (in particular my late teens and early twenties) I was plagued with semi-hypochondria and misunderstanding of the normal functions of my own body. I’m clear that much of this may have been rooted in fear of the unknown, as I was more of a fan of social science, rather than biology and anatomy. It is also likely due to the fact that many of my grandparents suffered from chronic disease and were ill or passed away during those formative years. There was my father’s experience as described below, and add to that my sister’s ulcerative colitis, and my own process of dealing with what was eventually diagnosed as PolyCystic Ovarian Syndrome and irritable bowel syndrome. Putting it all together, you can imagine how difficult it was for me to feel comfortable with general wellness.

I think that the clearest connection I can make to when things started going ’strange’ in my mind was back in 1989, the winter when my father was diagnosed with cancer. He fought it, and won, and over the past 18 years since my father first won his battle with malignant cells in his colon, I’ve spent countless hours counting the blessings of having healthy family members, but fearing my own mortality.

In truth, there is nothing like the reality of life to remind you how precious each day really is. Back in the late 1980s, when I first learned of Dad’s issue, I was unprepared with how to deal with it, or the considerations it would bring up in terms of my own health and wellbeing. Not only did I become significantly obsessed with the prevention of illness, I managed to do the same for every member of my family, at times whether they wished me to do so, or not! However, my father’s subsequent conquering of his colon ills, and his journey to wellness was something that inspired me on my own journey to use natural health care as a means of finding a holistic and healthful way to find peace.

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Well, if I choose to listen to such voices in the world, perhaps we are.

But I refuse to let this type of thought affect my spirit. It is too easy for such poison arrows to affect my soul, and give root to anguish of the spirit. As intoxicating as it might be to sit in the depth of despair, to dive to the bottom and swim with the bottom feeders, I will NOT allow such a state of mind to control me. Nor will I allow such voices to haunt me.

Depression can so easily come following such discussion. Worse yet, I find that my despair is incidious. My mind spins, my heart lurches, and I find that all that I once thought as safe is no longer. There is no place that seems free of muck. It is sticky and boggy. It is hard to move. My very spirit lies open to daggars and darts from all angles. How can one feel safe in such a situation?

Honestly, when then is it safe to let down the walls, to drop the defense? When time after time the same game is played, it is played out! I am tired. Tired and weak from the struggle.

My spirit knows that one must savor that which is good, that which nutures, that which heals, that which stregnthens hope. I have learned this lesson before, I am sure. And we all search for such an experience, to find it at all cost. That is a life quest. But when time after time you are left with a bad taste in your mouth, it is hard to keep getting back up.

A geniune individual will know that corn flakes are not where it is at. Tell me why the world considers it flighty and flakish when you FEEL life and love with abandon? When you share your feelings and laugh like a child? Is not that what we are called to do? To be as a child, curious and honest? To love beyond all else? To love as the ultimate goal?

It is ludicrous that in this world the poets are discarded as being crazy, and by being crazy are written off as lost in delusion. It makes no sense to do so, as if those who feel are somehow lost? But then, in such a world, who would want to be found? Why can’t we be clear about what is right and good? Why are such individuals described as playing the fool?

I wish i could just know with certainty that it will one day make sense. But that too is ridicuous. Nothing is ever set in stone, and nothing lasts for ever, not in this lifetime. We can at least count on that, I suppose.

But it would be nice once in a while to just be able to sit back, accepting and knowing that what you feel you want may very well be real. That what you hope to experience is true. I wish nothing but that for myself all who read this.

Caz

I get what they meant. I mean, sometimes we have to just get through or get over or get past or get real, and then it all comes out ‘peachy’ on the otherside if we just keep on.

But sometimes wish I could go backwards instead. (Or at least throw it all in reverse for a bit.)

Don’t you agree? I mean, we often see things in hindsight that we don’t see in the moment. And just going backwards for a bit might allow us to press out the wrinkles.

But life doesn’t work that way. And again, as I have said many a time before, it is the wrinkles that make it life that much more memorable. So I suppose it just means working through it all, and wading through the bog. And then it will all get easier, right? And it will all make sense in 20-20.

Today was intense. I spent the ride to and from the job expo I attended crying in the car…(I was an exhibitor, not job hunting.) Hearing the finality, however, yesterday that my dad is going through some health issues, it set me off, and then of course there was the whole self blame, what am I doing about my own life, my own stuff, and what if my parents were to die, where would I be, etc.

And I know better. I mean, I KNOW better. But grief is intense. And it doesn’t answer to logic, does it? It is just so REAL. So strong. SO intense.

And I opened up to a couple people at work about it, and then I regretted having done so. To my own boss none the less, and one of my students. One can’t do such things, can they? But, I mean, I couldn’t hold it in. It was just flowing forth, I was feeling incredibly emotional and to tell the truth it kinda of felt liberating to just spill it all, and just share the grief. My boss reminded me that we are all human. Indeed

And what made it worse was that moments before I had tried to eat microwaved chili for lunch. MICROWAVED. And it fell like a rock, and I was gagging on it. And it seemed like my body was just ripe for a tantrum. It felt just like the worst lunch.

And it comes at such a strange time too. Because my current class is just finishing tomorrow. And I have grown fond of each of my students, and watched them as they grew in knowlege and understanding, and seen thier eyes light up as they finally begin to connect the dots. And they all had such nice things to say about me. Even my boss shared several compliments. But whether it is my intense desire to BE HUMBLE, (which at times I wonder about being ‘forced’) or the fact that I have such a poor sense of self worth, but I can’t be happy inside.

I take that back. I am happy. I am joyous. I am thrilled at what I have accomplished, what they have accomplished. But I have some sort of wierd emotional or psychological twist that makes me feel sad anytime good things happen. Like I am awaiting the axe to fall. So when I heard that dad is going through stuff, well, like I said, it set me off.

Why is joy sometimes bittersweet? I have so many wonderful gifts to be thankful for. And I sit here, kinda like a child does on his birthday, surrounded by paper packages and wrappers and ribbons and bows and clowns and carnival music and it is like so surreal. As the tears fall fast, and it is like the connection isn’t there.

It’s like I have gone out for a run, and it is raining, and instead of feeling lovely and cool, I feel winded and lethargic.

I think I need a vacation. ~Caz