Waiting and Moving the Needle

Today, I had my A1C tested to see if I have moved the needle on my pre-diabetes. The worst part of this experience has been the waiting. This has been a brutal three months, trying to clean up my diet and get rid of sugar and carbs, get more exercise and try fasting. 

What does it mean to lower my A1C? The A1C measures the average blood sugar over three months. What does the A1C measure? I'm not a scientist, but thanks to Google, I can find what the CDC says:

When sugar enters your bloodstream, it attaches to hemoglobin, a protein in your red blood cells. Everybody has some sugar attached to their hemoglobin, but people with higher blood sugar levels have more. The A1C test measures the percentage of your red blood cells that have sugar-coated hemoglobin.

I won't know the results for a few days, but I am refreshing my healthcare provider's test results page regularly to see if they have posted. Argh.

As mentioned above, the last three months have been horrible. (I'd like to say that after the blood test I broke free and had a donut for breakfast, pasta for lunch and a slice of cake for dessert. Alas, no.) I feel like I have been cramming for an exam without any interim homework assignments, quizzes, or papers where I am getting feedback on my progress. Which leads me to my proposal...

Instead of getting my A1C checked every three months, my doctor should check it every month. I could tell if the changes I am making in my diet are making a difference. Am I going up, or down? Think of those monthly tests as homework checks, pop quizzes or midterms, instead of having everything based on the final exam. I had check points along the way. If I got tested once a month, I'd have twelve data points instead of four. Even if got tested every six weeks, that would be okay as I'd have a midpoint check to gauge of how I am doing instead of floating in a sea of uncertainty.

If I were to bring my sugar down in the first month, I know I should stay the course. I would feel a sense of accomplishment, or realize that I need to escalate my efforts. If my blood sugar got worse, I would have to be more aggressive. Maybe I would need to exercise more. Maybe I am sneaking too many treats. Maybe I could occasionally have a bowl of pasta. Maybe I could figure out how much and how often I could eat dessert.

More regular testing would also help my sanity. I've been living with a cloud of doubt and worry over my head.

Empty Nest, Homebody Hobbies, and Lauren 2.0

This summer has been the summer of hanging out with Pedro and his girlfriend, which has been delightful. I am grateful for this time with him, especially after he was away for two years in treatment.

Now Pedro is moving on to his next chapter. He is going to pack it up and move to Montana this fall. I am happy for him and this move to independence. With Claire-Adele living in D.C., I will be have an empty nest with both of my kids living out of state.

Which means I need to find something to do. I have a job, but I need to find a social life and fun activities.

"Maybe you can join a club," said my friend Clara. "What do you like to do?"

Great advice. I thought of things things I like to do:

• Crossword puzzles
• Jigsaw puzzles
• Sewing quilts
• Embroidery
• Reading
• Learning about meditation 
• Paddle boarding
• Learning Spanish on an app on my phone
• Blogging

Great. Based on these hobbies, I am a homebody hermit.

Egads. I'd like to blame my list of loner activities on the isolation of the pandemic but can I? No. I liked a lot of these things before the lockdowns. I had a jigsaw puzzle stash that I had been accumulating for years before 2020. How did I end up with all of these activities I could do from my living room? A lot of these fit around motherhood. I could write a blog post or work on a quilt while my kids were doing homework. I could read while waiting for them to finish sports practice. These things kept me both occupied and present for my kids. A jigsaw puzzle on the coffee table would bring us together without needing to talk. My homebody hobbies were part of the nest I created for my kids.

I will never give up my homebody hobbies. They will always be a part of me. Nevertheless, I too will need to leave the nest, even if it was the nest I built. As my kids venture out, I need to as well. I feel like I am starting kindergarten, leaving the house and seeing what is in the world. What do I like? What is fun? Who will be my friends? I'll have to find out. We'll see what Lauren 2.0 brings. 

Sugar, Sugar, I am Your Bitch

Sugar, darling, I love you but you are killing me. I want to give you up but it is so hard. You keep pulling me to you, drawing me in.

I don't adore all sugary foods. I am a fan of cakes, muffins, brownies, ice cream, dark chocolate, and gummy bears. While that list covers a broad swath of sweets, I am not a candy store fan.

This morning, I had fresh blueberries and quiche and a bite of a seven layer bar. The blueberries and the quiche were really nice, but the seven layer bar was like fireworks of sweetness exploding in my mouth. The blueberries and the quiche were dull by comparison.

You might be wondering, "Why is she eating seven layer bars for breakfast when she needs watch what she eats? I thought she didn't want diabetes."

I fell off the sugar free, flour free wagon last week. I am supposed to avoid these foods because my A1C blood levels suggest I am pre-diabetic. Last Tuesday, I went into the office and some other teams had in person working sessions, and they bribed everyone with two meals a day for three days. The copious leftovers were put in the kitchen on my floor, including bite sized desserts which are the worst because look cute and tiny but they are deadly, like poisonous dart frogs.

I am more stressed than I should be about this upcoming A1C blood test at the end of August that will measure my average blood sugar levels over three months. The fear of upcoming test is like spooky background music in a horror movie, telling my the serial killer is right around the corner. In my mind -- every time I eat (or don't eat), I am thinking about my blood sugar. I think the stress got to me and I caved. It is like I am at the climax of the movie, turning on the lights in the dark and creepy house and having a conversation with the madman. 

"Okay, Okay, I know you are going to kill me, but first let's talk over these fabulous banana chocolate chips muffins first and maybe you'll change your mind about doing me in. Do you want a cappuccino with that? No sugar in mine, thanks. I promise I'll hit the elliptical for forty minutes after this snack. Surely, you can be reasonable and compromise here. Tell me -- what do I need to do to bring a some bread and pasta back into my life? How often can I eat muffins? Please? Please?"

Mediation: The Twenty-Four Hour Chill Pill

I have been meditating almost every day for the past few years. This is nothing big and fancy -- just ten minutes before I get ready for bed on an app. (There are many out there: I use Calm and Ten Percent Happier.)

There are the odd busy days when I don't meditate, when I am caught up traveling or whatnot. I used to think that mediation brought me down from my past and present state to a great state of relaxation, peacefulness and serenity.

That is true, but mediation also makes me calmer in the future. It is my twenty-four hour chill pill.

I figured this out when I am feeling anxious or edgy about something. I will look back and realize I skipped my mediation the day before. If I skip a few days, holy cow. Look out.

Mediation doesn't simply make me numb to the crap in my day-to-day. It makes me more resilient so when the unexpected pops (which it always does), I can cope.

London, Paris and Bonners Ferry, and the Buddha

I am at heart a big city girl, but I love this little, itty-bitty town in the panhandle of Idaho. When I was a kid, I'd look at the panhandle of states like West Virginia, Oklahoma and and wondered what was there. 

Now I know. At least for Idaho.

Nestled in the Selkirk Mountains, this little town is thirty miles from the Canadian border and four hours from Banff, the famous Canadian National Park. Bonners Ferry is in the river basin of the Kootenai (pronounced Coot-Knee).

Doesn't it look pretty from a satellite?

Bonners Ferry is the least bougie place on the earth, and I found that a wonderful escape from the urban world where we are forced to spend time outside because there is nothing else to do. Nothing.

Pedro and I went on a guided fishing trip, where we were on a float boat for eleven hours. My personal best catch for the trip was a sixteen inch rainbow trout. Pedro and I caught two fish at the same time. He was delighted to have two fish in one net.

When we weren't fishing, I went on a hike to a waterfall and then paddle-boarded on a quiet lake where I saw a deer on the shore and a heron. I met up with a pair of kayakers on the middle of the lake, and they told me of reports of a grizzly in the area. I figured they meant the greater Bonners Ferry vicinity. Nope. They meant like within a mile south of the lake I was on. When I pulled my paddle board ashore, I met some local women with six young kids between them. They were not phased by the reports of a grizzly bear. Just another day living in the middle of the wilderness.

Then I came home, and went to the Old Stove Brewery in Pike Place Market where I sat overlooking Elliott Bay, with the Wheel, the West Seattle Port, two stadiums, and a view of Mt. Rainier in the background. This is the land of the beautiful and the hip, which is fine. I am okay straddling both worlds. My friend Clara lives on Capitol Hill and has a beach house in a remote small town on the Pacific. Now I understand why she does this. I love the Pacific Northwest Ballet and local theater. I love the awesome restaurants and art galleries in my neighborhood. I love the walk along Elliott Bay to the Sculpture Garden.

I also loved stepping away from it all, and trying something completely different. I have a dear friend who lives in California. She has three houses in different states, and her most recent vacation pictures on Facebook where of her trip to Wimbledon. I am sure it was great, but how many awesome vacations can a person take? Each one needs to be better and more exciting than the last one.

A friend of mine was recently telling me the story of the Buddha. Buddha grew up as a prince, surrounded by wealth. He was destined to be either a great king or a wiseman, and he renounced his fortune and title and became enlightened. When I see my old friend take fancy vacation after vacation, I think of the Buddha, and I wonder what my friend's wealth has done to her? Is she happy? She is peaceful, content, or serene? 

I'm not giving up on money anytime soon like Buddha did, but taking a rural vacation was a complete change from my regular life. I went to a different world, where I was the outsider. 

And it was beautiful.

View of the Kootenai from the hotel

A sixteen inch rainbow

Two fish, one net.

Pedro taking a break from the boat and spay casting in the Kootenai.

At the Kootenai National Wildlife Refuge. It reminds of something
Van Gogh would have painted in Arles.

What could go right?

My father is a wise man. 

Recently, I was kvetching about some-such thing in my life, when he said, "Instead of thinking what could go wrong, why don't you think of what could go right?"

Wow.

That was a bucket of cold water on my pessimism. In a good way. My pessimism needs to take a backseat in my decision making.

"What could go wrong?" is a necessary thing to consider. Risk assessment is useful, but what happens when I forget that a positive element could exist? Risks are something that might happen. I look at risks all of the time, but sometimes I forget to look at the probability of that happening, which maybe low. I can get so wrapped up in low-likely risks, that I forget to look at high probability good things that might happen.

To answer "What could go right?" requires optimism. It requires faith and hope and most of all, courage. I don't find courage in my brain sitting next to the list of potential catastrophes. I find courage in my heart and my gut.

I recently found out I have pre-diabetes, which sucks. What could go wrong? I could continue to eat sugar and refined foods, and then I could get real diabetes which killed my grandfather. 

What could go right? 

I could read up on how to lower my blood sugar. I could get more exercise, lose some weight. I could potentially lower my blood sugar so I don't get all kinds of complications, and I could live a long and healthy life.

Not all bad news comes with a potential positive outcome. Sometimes the answers to "What could go wrong?" need to be heeded. Sometimes the risks of bad things happening are too high for my taste, like skydiving. I don't need to risk my life for five minutes of thrills. Most of the decisions in my life aren't so dramatic, and the risks are low.

WTF America

My co-worker Patrick is riding in the "Tour Divide" and there was an article about the race in the print version of the New York Times. Super cool, way to go Patrick! 

I went to email the article to people on my team when I was blasted with the news of the mass shooting in Highland Park, Illinois. Highland Park is about fifteen miles from where I went to college, and is one of the North Shore Chicago suburbs on Lake Michigan. I think Pedro went to school with kids from Highland Park. I have friends who live close enough. They probably were not at the parade, but still this has got to be devastating for them.

You know the funny thing about guns in America--these mass shootings never seemed to be perpetrated by people who hunt deer or ducks for dinner or sport. You don't see some middle age guy with a beer gut dressed in camo and an orange vest rampaging a shopping mall or school. Can we create some sensible laws that allow people who want hike for miles in the wilderness to nap a buck with a rifle but prevent automatic weapons to be given to whack jobs so they don't slaughter innocent people?

Feast or Famine, or Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

So I've been struggling with this pre-diabetes. One of the books I recommend suggests fasting as a way to drop blood sugar levels. This makes sense. If I have high blood sugar and keep eating, my blood sugar will go up.

I've been fasting for thirty-one hours, and I stopped because I was getting emotional labile. (See: previous post "Sally Had Boundaries." Yikes!) Cheese and crackers plus an orange seemed to elevate my mood.

I am enjoying my fasting periods. There are tricks to fasting, and I am learning them. One weekend I want to make it to forty-eight hours, and then maybe seventy-two. #goals.

I don't think I am going to become anorexic because I love food. If anything, these periods of fasting make me love food even more. Yesterday, (before I started the fast) I visited a friend who made dosas, a crispy Indian crepe with chutney. So delicious. I have to learn to cook these.

While I am trying to manage my blood sugar, I am reading Salt Fat Acid Heat: Mastering the Elements of Good Cooking by Samin Nosrat. Fasting makes me want to eat better food. If I am going to eat, it had better be awesome.

And I can figure it out.

Sally Had Boundaries

I recently watched the classic romantic comedy When Harry Met Sally on Netflix. Nora Ephron, the writer, is a rockstar, and this movie launched her into the stratosphere. 

I've seen this movie several times. Who hasn't? Since this movie has been out for years, I don't think I am going to be giving any spoilers here. If you haven't seen When Harry Met Sally, drop what you are doing and watch it. 

As most of you know, the past several years of my life have involved lots and lots of therapy. I am grateful for all that I have learned and how I have grown. Watching When Harry Met Sally in this new context, I realized something that most romantic heroines have in common: they have boundaries.

Sally had boundaries. After Sally slept with Harry, she insisted it was a big deal when he thought it was nothing. When his view didn't align with hers, she didn't say "That's great. Whatever. Let's still hang out." 

No. She dumped him. She walked away.

In Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth Bennett had boundaries. She refused Mr. Darcy's crappy first proposal. She knew what she wanted and was willing to walk away from "less than."

When Sally and Elizabeth set boundaries, the men were realized they needed to change if they wanted to keep the women. Harry and Mr. Darcy both get their heads out of their behinds, and rise to the challenge. She asks. He listens. He becomes a better man. As Good as it Gets is similar. 

The life isn't like a romantic comedy. Sometimes when boundaries are set, they get trampled or are ignored. Sometimes we wave the magic boundary wand and nothing happens. The dude might continue going about his business as if nothing happened. It isn't enough to set a boundary--it needs to be tended to, managed.

In life, sometimes the woman walks away, and the man doesn't notice or change, or rise to the occasion. He might think she is over reacting or asking too much or too needy or clingy or demanding or whatever. He doesn't want to meet her in the middle, or maybe he can't. She is setting him free, too--free from her expectations of what she is looking for in a partner. Or, he just might not like her or love her enough. Which is fine.

Romantic comedies don't end this way, but maybe they should. (But then it wouldn't be a comedy, ya know?) Maybe we should see the heroine rising from the ashes, ready to remake her life, no longer waiting around for the guy who doesn't get her.

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.