Pride and Independence

Last Sunday was the Pride Parade in Seattle, just a few blocks from my condo. I walked over to watch it for about an hour. There is a range of participants, from corporate and government floats, to small, obscure groups, from a running group to a leather fan club. All kinds, all types, with lots of music, glitter and dancing.

Even though I am not a member of the LGBTQ community, I find the parade joyful and festive and I am happy to cheer on the participants. This parade comes one week before the Fourth of July celebrating American independence, which goes hand in hand with freedom. The Pride Parade is the perfect expression of freedom, where people are free to say who they are, and love who they love. 

I know this isn't what the Founding Fathers had in mind, but that is the beauty of democracy. It evolves as we evolve.

Warren Buffett, the "Go to Hell" Pause and the Burn

David Brooks recent graduation like-hacks column was full of interesting tidbits like 

Job interviews are not really about you. They are about the employer’s needs and how you can fill them.

and

Anything you say before the word “but” does not count.

This is the one I've most taken to heart:

              You can always tell someone to go to hell tomorrow.

This quotation from Warren Buffett has saved my bacon and reduced my blood pressure. I have recently been working on pausing as a way to reduce my reactivity to difficult situations.

This phrase immediately calms me down, because I know I am going to force myself to wait to tell someone off. This gives me time to think, ponder and pray on what I should do before acting. I still stand up for myself, and in a far more reasonable way. This pause helps me to be honest with myself about what is bothering me. I figure out what is my part before I haul off and tell someone where to put it. Is the other person a louse, or do I have a hard time trusting someone's good intentions? When I am calm and more rational, I see things more clearly, especially after the first wave of anger clears.

In recent weeks, I got an email that upset me. No, it completely pissed me off. I was livid, outraged. I read it and wrote a nasty reply. I deleted the nasty reply and I wrote another nasty reply. I fumed all the next morning about it, but I had other things going on so I was distracted. When I looked at the email again in the afternoon, I saw it in a different light. What I had first thought was horrendous wasn't so bad. The following day, I was rational. There were a few things that I needed to mention that were off, for sure, but I calmly explained my concerns instead of going off like an unhinged psycho. Without two days to pause, I might have destroyed a working relationship that was otherwise going well. I was able to save it by not being a lunatic. And I got my points across.

The other lovely thing about this idea is that I am not dismissing my initial anger, or stuffing it down. I am turning the anger burner down from boil to simmer. I know I am mad and upset, but I am not going to act out in anger. I will act once the initial anger is at a reasonable temperature, and no one gets burned.

Shelter

Last night, I found an amazing meditation on finding an emotional shelter in the storm, protecting ourselves when in crisis.

I imagined my shelter was a little open hut in the deep and wild woods of the Pacific Northwest, and it was protecting me from a downpour. The idea of the shelter is that it is bigger than you, reliable (always there) and safe (will keep you protected). My little shelter was propped up again a giant cedar.

I remember when I was a kid I loved thunderstorms when I lived in Chicago. I stand and look out my window and watch it pour. In St. Louis, I was stand on the porch. I loved the noise, the clean smell of the air. I loved the heat rising. I loved seeing the power of nature, lashing out, then calming.

It was also easier to love the storm while I was safely protected from it. The storm wasn't getting me wet--unless I intentionally went out in it. I was close enough, but not directly involved or impacted. 

I am learning to build my own emotional shelter, to protect me from the drama and trials of life. When I build my shelter and protect myself, I can see the beauty in things where I otherwise might be afraid.

I think about parenthood and wonder how I have served as a shelter to people in my life, especially my children. The goal wasn't to protect from all of the storms, but to teach them how to make their own shelter to protect themselves, teaching them by example. I am not sure I did a good job of that when they were younger. I didn't even know how to make a shelter for myself. 

I am learning.

Bread Hangover

Y'all are gonna hate hearing about my pre-diabetes pretty soon, but that is okay. I hate having it.

So yeah. Bread is now my bourbon. 

(Not really, but it is a nice sentence.)

I love bread, but it doesn't love me.

Jesus said, "I am the bread of life. He who comes to me shall not hunger. He who comes to me shall not thirst."

Jesus did not say "I am the cauliflower crust of life." No. It is bread, baby, bread.

I love muffins. 

I love scones. 

I love cake. 

I love soft and gooey chocolate chip cookies. 

I love to bake. Let clarify -- I love to bake but not cook. "Cook" is for dinner. "Bake" is for breakfast and dessert. "Cook" is an entire meal. "Bake" is just the yummy parts.

I love biscuits. 

I love brownies. 

I love croissants.

This is not to diminish those who suffer from the disease of alcoholism, but I get it. Not only do I have to avoid foods that can jack my blood sugar, I have to avoid one of my favorite hobbies. I feel like a bartender who not only needs to stop drinking, but also needs to find another job. What am I going to do? I just got a new convention oven and the only reason you need a convention oven is to bake. I need to find new recipes. Sure, I've been roasting a lot of vegetables lately but it is not the same.

I love brioche.

I love Top Pot doughnuts.

I've heard that many alcoholics remember their last drink (or maybe they don't if they were too blotto.) Do I remember my last treat made of flour, sugar and butter? Do I remember the last cake? I remember going off flour and sugar for a few weeks, and then I had avocado toast that pushed me over the edge. I was repulsed by avocado toast--the healthiest kind of carb treat, if there is such a thing. Damn it was good but afterwards I had a bread hangover. 

I love bread pudding.

I love Tom Douglas' doughnuts with sides of jam and vanilla mascarpone.

I love beignets.

I love wheat toast with scrambled eggs.

I get the peer pressure, the social aspect of eating bread. I went to dinner with a friend last night and she suggested we go to a Greek place with awesome french fries (I need another post dedicated to potatoes and popcorn) and pita sandwiches. I avoided the Lamb Souvlaki plate which came with cheesecake for dessert. After the pita sandwich and fries, I had a bread hangover. I felt bloated and gross and I fell asleep by 9:30 at night. I felt like shit this morning, emotionally and physically. Why did I do that to myself? Why didn't I just say no? My friend wouldn't have cared what I ate. She also wasn't going to have a bread hangover like I did. In twelve-step programs, they say "Focus on yourself." Now I get it. Nelly can eat all of the bread and she's fine. I can't. I need to take care of me. 

I also get the concept of eating bread alone. Last night, I plowed through some rhubarb crumble after my pita and french fry fiasco, as if more carbs would make me feel better. While rhubarb crumble isn't technically bread, it is in the flour family. I had rhubarb crumble after lunch today. I had a meeting at 2:00 that I could barely get through because was feel my post lunch slump. 

The funny thing is that now that I have been eating better for a month, when I fall off the wagon, I feel like crap. I wonder if this is what drinkers feel like when they have a relapse.

Perspectives & Rest

I just finished my first ever self-inflicted twenty-four hour fast. I am not counting the times I didn't eat for a few days because I had my wisdom teeth out. But man, I did look good when I recovered.

Why would I want to fast? The Diabetes Code recommends fasting as a way to lower blood sugar, and I am trying to drop my blood sugar to something lower than "pre-diabetic." I have a second A1C blood test at the end of the summer. I am an overachiever and good student. I want to crush any test I take, even if it is a blood test.

That, and my grandfather died from kidney failure, which was a complication due to his Type 2 diabetes. Diabetes is my genetic-history cross to bear. Some families get cancer. My family gets diabetes. I saw him frequently in the last ten years of his life, and I saw first hand how rough it was. I saw his hands look like swollen sausages, then shrink after he had dialysis. Type 2 

Ten years ago, I read Starving Your Way to Vigor: The Benefits of an Empty Stomach by Steve Hendricks in Harper's. Hendricks was researching the history of fasting, and decided it give it a try. For seventeen days. He lost thirty pounds and didn't gain them back. He discusses the potential healing power of fasting: "Was fasting perhaps a healing mechanism, like sleep?" Since I read the article a decade ago, I have been curious about fasting, but not curious enough to stop eating. Theoretically, fasting sounds interesting, but a day without food? Maybe I try it next week...

Now that I am pre-diabetic, my diet and exercise program isn't about my vanity--it is about my health and my longevity. My diet is very likely tied to my lifespan, and more importantly, my quality of life as I age. 

My new friend T sent me a video from Dr. Berg on fasting. When that video popped up, a second video about fasting from Sahdguru popped up. (My friend Anderson had told me about Sahdguru ages ago.) I watched them both, figuring I could benefit from the two perspectives: West and East.

Dr. Berg is a midwesterner from Iowa. His video is loaded with facts and science and data and details of all of the wonderful things fasting does to your body. Do I want all of those things? Sure.

Sahdguru is from southern India and takes a different perspective: when you eat continuously, your digestive system works continuously. Why not fast for a bit and give it a rest?

Which video did I find more persuasive? I can't say. Dr. Berg's data is compelling, but not inspiring. Sahdguru was inspiring, but not as compelling. Dr Berg's argument appealed to my brain. Sahdguru's argument appealed to my soul.

The two videos together were the right combination for me. I needed both my brain and my soul engaged in this exercise. I had both a reason and a why to fast. Dr Berg got me started and Sahdguru kept me going. I knew there were tons of health benefits to fasting, but when I wanted to a snack at 2 in the afternoon, I didn't think about my mitochondria. I thought, I need to give my digestive system some rest.

Submarine

I was thinking about how I ran into Maggie the other day at lunch. I think of the pandemic life as more of as a submarine instead of bubbles or pods. Bubbles sound light and airy and free. Pods sound cozy. Submarines are dark and enclosed and isolated. Since the pandemic started, I've been living in a submarine with a handful of other people, separated from the rest of humanity. Once every few weeks, my submarine would come up for air, but rarely would other submarines, as they were underwater when I was up. 

Seeing Maggie made me feel like my submarine has emerged from the water, and her emerged, too. 

I am so grateful that the pandemic is moving into the endemic phase, and I can get out of my submarine and get back on land.

Today, Yesterday and Tomorrow

I went to lunch today in Pioneer Square. I was the only one in from my team, so I went to lunch by myself. I ate at the counter of a nearby restaurant, and read a book while I waited for my food.

The restaurant was busy and lively, which was good. People were eating inside and outside on the patio. As I was finishing, I looked outside and saw someone I knew from my education advocacy days. I wasn't super close friends with this woman, but I knew her well enough to say hello as I walked out. Maggie was one of the smartest people in the group--she had tons of insight and always did her proverbial homework. She always had her facts straight and never shot from the hip. Like many of the moms in education advocacy, Maggie had previously had a rich and rewarding professional life before she became a PTA mom.

She was eating lunch with a friend who looked older than her, old enough that she probably would not have been involved in education advocacy at the same time Maggie and I were.

Maggie looked absolutely delighted to see me. Delighted. She basically ignored her friend for five minutes while we did a quick catch up.

I did something different than I would have done in my old education advocacy days. Instead of talking about my family, I talked about myself. I talked about my job and how I re-entered the workforce. Maggie told me her story, too. She had a small part-time job before she got a job a major regional employer who has a program for women returning to the workforce. She is crushing it.

So, it was nice to see her. It was great.

And it made me kind of depressed.

I wasn't depressed because I saw her, but rather because I have seen just a very small circle of friends during the pandemic. I never ran into people at lunch or dinner or out and about. Part of it because I live downtown, but part of it is because I stayed inside and only hung out with four people. And my friends also stayed inside, didn't go out, so when I did go out, I didn't see people I knew anyway.

Now, I am sad about all of the missed time, all of the people I missed.

Cupcakes & Now I Know How Alcoholics Feel (kinda)

A week or so ago, I learned I was pre-diabetic. I'm on the bottom cusp between pre-diabetic and diabetic, which isn't bad. Nevertheless, I am alarmed. Type 2 Diabetes runs in my family. If I don't make changes now, my life could get uncomfortable.

My doctor recommended reading The Diabetes Code by Dr. Jason Fung. His concept is that Type 2 Diabetes is a dietary disease; therefore, the only way to cure it is to change your diet. How do you change the diet? I'm only 20% through the book, but the main idea it to eat less sugar, including the sugars in bread, white rice, potatoes and dried corn. He also believes in intermittent fasting, which I have yet to try.

Yesterday, I went to Mod Pizza and got the cauliflower crust, which tastes better then it sounds. I was so proud of myself, until the staff asked if I was a Mod member.

"If you download the app, you get a free cupcake," she said. 

Right. Cupcakes. Sugar and flour and free? I broke down and got the cupcake. 

It was delicious because it was a cupcake, but I was slightly disappointed in myself that I didn't say no. I want to have strong will power and discipline. My friend T went on a green juice cleanse for ten days and she never felt better in her entire life. She was alert and energetic.

"So why didn't I stick with it?" she asked.

"I have no idea," I replied. "But that is a great question."

This morning, I read more of The Diabetes Code, the chapter on all of the bad things that will happen to your entire body if you don't take care of it. Everything will fall apart and you will go blind, have a heart attack, get Alzheimer's, lose feeling in your limbs, get infections, and possibly have amputations. You will never have sex again because those parts won't work, but also because who wants to have sex with a blind, demented, numb, infected amputee?

Tonight I went to dinner with a friend. We went to a neighborhood French restaurant which brings the best, most delicious baguette and butter to the table before dinner. I watch my friend butter her bread and eat it all.

And I had none.

Not a bite, not a crumb.

None. 

Now I know how alcoholics feel watching other people drink, enjoying a glass of wine or cocktail in moderation. I know that bread is good and awesome, but I want to feel better long-term. So no bread for me. I left the red potatoes on the side of my dinner plate. I only ate a few bites, and snuck three small bites of cake for dessert.

A few weeks ago, I read The Abascal Way about how to decrease inflammation. Many of the suggestions are the same as in The Diabetes Code: avoid flour, sugar,  rice, and red meat, and see how you feel. While the author is pretty strict about diet, she concedes on alcohol. To paraphrase, "You've gotta live."

You've gotta live.

I need to decide what that is going to look like. Do I want to be infected and blind and whatever from diabetes in ten years? Not at all. Before, I'd eat all the bread and all the dessert and all of the potatoes and rice. Now I see these foods differently.

Ada

The massacre that happened last week was surreal. I didn't hear about it until the morning after, but the night before I put on my Ada ring. I haven't worn it in a while, but I felt compelled to wear it last week, after the shooting occurred but before I heard about it.

As many of you know, I had a stillbirth, and I have a ring to wear in her memory. 

Losing a child was one of the most profound losses of my life. Her death was at the hand of nature, not the hand of man. 

This story of the slaughter in Texas will fall away from the news, but the loss of the kids will never fall away from those families, from that community. Decades later, they will still wonder what their kids would be doing now if they had lived.

It is so strange that we spend billions and billions and billions of dollars on healthcare this country. A single child with a complex medical condition might rack up millions of dollars in fees over several years.

And yet, we can't protect children in schools from mass shootings by eliminating the single common factor in mass shootings: guns.

I am not against medical care for fragile children -- I support it. I find it ironic that we can make such heroic efforts for those kids and we don't take simple measures to protect other innocent and healthy children before they are hunted by madmen.