La la la la la la, it’s a Beautiful World.

Day 9 of the Daniel fast. I’m feeling deeply cleansed–this fast has been the spiritual retreat I’ve always dreamed of taking. Here are a couple things I’ve learned:

1. Caffeine withdrawal is painful. 
2. Food is an idol in my life. 
3. I get really jumpy when I can’t eat–see #2. 
4. I no longer enjoy cooking-although I have made a lot of stuff  I pinned. 
5. Comfortably full is a foreign term.

Today, the caffeine headache and sugar cravings have passed, and the clarity has begun to settle over me. (By the way, I have not lost one pound. Today, I said, “F#$K you, scale; you ain’t bringing me down! You’re registering all the additional knowledge in my brain not fat on my thighs!” But, this fast wasn’t about the scale.) I realized that I have relied on food for far too much. Food was my comfort, relaxation, solitude, love, and so much more.

That’s how I grew up. Sick? Chicken soup. Celebration? Cake. Love? Cookies. My mom communicates in food. Still. But now, when she walks in my house with a fresh-baked plate of cookies, I smile and thank her, then I look right in their little peanut butter faces and say, “You are a cookie; you are not love.” I often say it with my mouth full of cookie, but I’m making progress. At least now I realize the cookie’s not love.

Cookies and love. Really?

When I quit smoking over a year ago, I realized that I had absolutely no coping mechanisms. Stressed? Have a cigarette. Tired? Have a cigarette. Sad? Have 100 cigarettes. There are never enough. There are never enough cookies, never enough cigarettes, never enough coffee to fill that hole inside you.

Today is my brother Chris’ birthday. He would have been 53. He died almost 25 years ago and left a big old gaping hole in my heart. A hole that I have tried to fill with so many of the wrong things. Eventually it healed as much as a human heart can heal, but not through any of my attempts to patch it together with peanut butter cookies for sure.

What I’ve mostly learned through this fast is to feel and be in each moment. To question my motives for eating. To realize that food doesn’t satisfy a deep internal craving, it simply paralyzes it for awhile. I have learned that I do have will power. And I learned–again–that when you step out in faith, God sends in a heavenly support team.

So, I don’t know if I’m gonna lose any weight, and I don’t really care. What I do know is that when you stop dulling your emotions with food or whatever your drug of choice is, the fog lifts and a beautiful world awaits.

Day 9, I gave my food addiction to God, and I’m not taking it back. Can I share something with you guys? My husband surrendered his cigarettes to God on day 1. I’m so proud of him. Would you please pray for him?

Sidetrack Sally, Suffering and Sacrificing

Since I was raised a good little Catholic girl, I always gave something up for Lent. Usually candy, soda, chips…I was always a healthy eater–insert eye-roll and confession that I lived a whole year on cheese puffs and Tang. Although I moved away from the Catholic church, I love Jesus and have always identified with His praying, fasting, and meditating and wanted to offer something in return.

Now, to quote my friend Jen: Let me back up a minute. Whether it was the church, my family, or simply my own perception, I came to this conclusion as a child: Suffering is good, and the more you suffer the better of a person you are. Since Jesus suffered tremendously, my wee little girl mind believed that by suffering, I could earn favor with Jesus. 

So my takeaways from a childhood of Catholicism: Suffering and guilt. When I was about Lily’s age (6), I used to kneel for hours in church on November 1, All Soul’s Day, praying for souls in purgatory and unbaptized babies in Limbo. Always an intuitive empath–though I didn’t know that until my 30’s when an honest-to-goodness definition for my particular neurosis emerged bringing validation and relief–this weighed on me tremendously. In my little kid mind, unless you left the confessional, did penance, and then dropped dead, you were probably going to go to purgatory for a couple hundred years until some good little girl prayed you out.

And what about people who had no family? What about the orphans? I hoped that God would make exceptions and use my excess prayers for them. When I think about this as an adult, as a mother, it makes me sad. I want to give my little girl self a hug and reassure her. My darling son is an empath too. He would agonize over souls in purgatory.

Back to Lent, see why my kids call me “Sidetrack Sally?” So, I share my feelings and interpretations about Lent with my own children not as a way to make them feel guilty or as if they need to suffer, but as a way of acknowledging Jesus’ suffering on our behalf. No pressure. Chloe is taking 18 credit hours and running 5 miles a day. I didn’t mention this to her: She’s all ready suffering enough. Peyton gave up computer games. Lily went back and forth and ultimately chose soda, but last night she climbed like a spider monkey onto the counter to finish Brad’s Coke, so we might need to revisit that.

I chose alcohol. I’m not an alcoholic. And for those of you who know me, I don’t drink excessively anymore. Yes, I know I had a drink in my hand in every Florida picture. Have you been to Key Largo without your kids? Cut me some slack. The point is: I really enjoy an adult beverage. I love a good glass of wine or a craft beer. One of our friends brews his own beer. It’s AMAZING. I’m looking forward to enjoying one in 30-some days. So, I thought this would be a good sacrifice as well as a liver cleanse.

If you’re still here, you probably need a beer. This post was rough and disjointed. Maybe I am an alcoholic. Maybe this is what withdrawal looks like. Go ahead. Have a drink. Call my girlfriend; we made a pact never to let the other drink alone. She’ll have a beer with you. She promised.