Comfort



The last week shook my cage. As I reported here, I recently lost a friend very quickly and tragically to a fast moving cancer that shocked our community. I am still hearing from friends and blog readers who have reacted very strongly to his death not only because of the incredible loss such a great man was to his community, friends and loved ones, but also because of the sheer shock of the rapidity of the events. He simply was here with a lower back complaint and then gone to a terminal and totally destructive cancer. In 11 days.

While it almost feels like I don't want to continue to write my blog about something so seemingly trivial as my weight loss and fitness issues, at the core of these issues is my deep desire to live my life with as much passion and health as humanly possible. It literally is a fight for life--and while it's not dramatic on a day to day basis, it is at the core of my personal needs and desires. I basically spend each day focused on improving my health and my ability to live a long and productive life.

After some contemplation, I realize the best I can do to honor the memory of my friend is to live my life with as much intention and commitment as possible. So that is what I have endeavored to do this week. I knew on the day that I heard of his death that I needed to do something to ensure this news wouldn't turn into a down hill spiral for me--in essence, a food bender. When enormous loss strikes any life people react. Often the chink in one's armor is the place that falls apart first. Emotions, especially strong and sad emotions, often translate to the need for physical comfort of some kind--sometimes that of possibly negative and damaging behavior. In my effort to live without damaging myself I knew I needed a more comforting way to eat--at least for a time.

The way I have been eating for the last couple of years has been incredibly challenging. I have maintained a very low calorie diet using whey shakes as meal replacements to increase protein and eating "lean and green" the rest of the time. This works extremely well for weight loss but in my case I had become almost continually hungry. Unless I was hungry it wasn't working. It's hard to be hungry all the time. It simply hurts.

So last week I revisited Atkins.

In the long ago day my mother tried Atkins and loved it. She was the ultimate carnivore and this program allows for all the protein you could possibly want. Once called "The Drinking Man's Diet" the original literature about the program enticed potential dieters with promises of sizzling steaks, salads slathered in blue cheese and hard liquor. (As I write this, this actually sounds pretty good to me.) The new Atkins adds more non-starchy vegetables, low carb fruits, increases the use of good fats and limits calories--although only slightly compared to what I have been doing.

It works like this: If you keep your carbs under 20 grams a day and eat under 1700 calories for women and about 2000 for men, you will lose weight and you will not be hungry. This is heaven for those who can stick to it, but even a tiny stray in a carb--like nondairy creamer in your coffee or a donut will throw all your hard work to hell in a hand basket.

But for me, right now, this is what I need. It's allowed me to lose the pound I have been gaining and losing for a month as well as four more in a week. It has allowed me to feel optimistic and in control during what has been a very sad and emotional week. It's allowed me to choose something to consciously control and regulate what I was doing--which is vital for anyone who sees food as a way to deal with emotions. In short, it works--but only if you do it.

This week I have lived my life with personal commitment by honoring my goals. I feel very successful in the wake of some extremely tragic circumstances. I write this with the strong belief that my friend Kirk and anyone who cares for me would want me to live as well as I can with purpose--every day. While I might not be slaying dragons, I am fighting my own battle daily. This week I am winning.

I wish you confidence and personal power and a feeling of knowing you can keep your commitments.

Love--Beauty

http://www.atkins.com/New-Book.aspx

The Good Man

In honor of our friend and classmate Kirk Knipp.

Yesterday I spent the day in a vague and depressed sadness. I have been carefully watching the updates about my friend from Costa Mesa High School days, Kirk Knipp, as he battled the last and perhaps most painful battle of his life-- that of metasticized cancer.

His illness was a shock to me. Even though we had not been close over the years I always felt his presence as a cheery lighthearted and lucid soul on this magical connection device we call Facebook. And in fact, once in the early days of Facebook "apps" I posted a list of people who were reading my page on a regular basis. He was one of them and his one word reply was, "Busted." It made me feel good to know we had that connection and that he enjoyed what I had to say. The feeling was mutual.

When I think back to Costa Mesa days I see him even then as a good man--a good young man. Someone who marched to his own drum, someone who was obviously raised well and was taught and cared about integrity and values. He wasn't showy, he wasn't loud or grandstanding. While he played sports (cross country) he didn't try to secure a place for himself in the popular crowd. He had a small group of loyal and intellegent friends and he went his own way. Being kind and being true to himself  even then. He was someone you knew, even if you didn't know the details of his life well. I knew him because I have always been attracted to kindness. Goodness and kindness and morality are magnets that attract. He quietly walked the walk--even then.

When graduation time came around he and one other classmate had been accepted to prestigious military schools. West Point for Kirk. And that achievement showed his classmates that he had given 100% of his energy to making a success of his scholarship and he had not wasted his time in high school. That alone is remarkable for a teenager. That sort of focus and commitment is hard to come by in far more mature men. His achievement was a feather in our collective cap--he was someone we could feel proud of. And we did.

Later we all went our separate ways. We knew of each other through friends, we occasionally heard something about someone, but before social networking we were never truly connected to our class as a whole. But about the time we all made it to our thirty-year reunion for the class of 1977 we had figured out social networking and the reunions and gatherings brought us together. We formed a virtual high school of alumni who shared each others joys and triumphs on a daily basis. The sense of community for our school exists and is tangible because of Facebook. And in the last years of his life, this is how I knew Kirk.

Facebook gives us snapshots of a person. Unless we are close friends, we don't know all about them but we see their humor, the things that scare them, and bring them joy. The political and religious affiliations that they share with others and feel strongly about. We see bits and pieces of their daily life. That Kirk enjoyed sweets--a lot. That he made lighthearted and low key jokes that let you know he noticed what you were saying and that he was virtually waving at you. This is the truly valuable gift of Facebook. But more than the daily hellos we all share, Facebook allows us to have a clear and immediate access into each other's pain and heartache. More so than any other time in history we know when our friends and acquaintances are suffering, in pain, in fear, in need--and yes, dying. We see it posted on their statuses. Kirk posted that he had a "tooma" less than three weeks ago. A jest in the face of grave danger. That was how he lived.

I can imagine in his military career and from the posts others have made to his page that he was a kind and fair leader, asking those who followed him to reflect on their choices. It was clear to me that his light shined through, that his goodness shined through in everything he did. Every day. He walked the walk.

And even though it is quite clear to me that we had different feelings toward politics and perhaps even religion, we shared a commonality. We both believed in and tried to live with goodness, awareness, kindness and with a spirit of reaching out to others. I see his life as a short life utterly well played. He did life right in my opinion. I wish that he had longer to grace us with his presence, but knowing that I would never want him to endure the pain that he clearly was battling in the last few days, I can see his release as important for him and a good ending to a good life. No matter how tragic it seems to me today.

As I look at the surrounding community around Kirk I can see that most of his friends are very secure in their faith. I am sure that this amazing knowingness for them brings them great comfort. I, on the other hand, find this sort of thing to shake my faith. I have ahead the process of trying to put this in perspective. I have to grieve his loss. I have to realize the sadness and regret I am feeling is part of being human. It's part of the human experience. And while I am spirit, I am in human form and must deal with the pain. And today is an incredibly painful day to all those who simply wish he was here.

I keep hearing the words "only the good die young" in my mind.  Although we aren't "young" I would say as a group we are certainly not at the end of our lives by any means. So, young to us is someone like Kirk. Someone who gave the world his absolute best and who we wanted to hang out with us--spreading his goodness as long as possible.

So, now what? His loved ones who can are there to mourn and celebrate him today as they supported him through life and through this last ultimate challenge. And his friends from the past and his Facebook friends mourn him here--in a digital format. On Facebook, in email, in blogs and on the Caring Bridge.

On Valentine's Day I sent him a letter while he was still lucid about needing to know why he wasn't fighting, why he was not choosing any sort of treatment, and expressing my wish for his happiness. He responded almost immediately thanking me for my loving and passionate letter and promising a response to all of us who were confounded by recent events and were hoping for clarity. His subsequent post made his dire situation completely clear. We could stop struggling and start moving toward peaceful closure together. And so we have all tried. We have all prayed, we have all thought about him. I am happy that his birthday just past was a day when he knew he was so totally loved and appreciated for what he brought to this big party called life.

 Kirk's last words to me were to thank me for my "loving and thought-provoking letter" and "for my friendship and asking the hard questions."

My response to you Kirk as you make your amazing transition to a place beyond our time and space is--Thank you. Thank you for being a role model and a good man--and thank you for being my friend.

Love--

Grace

Help--I have fallen and I can't get up!

My daughter has this video game called "Harvest Moon" that I was seriously addicted to once upon a time. In this RPG you played the part of a farmer or rancher and you had the chance to travel down the floors of a mine looking for hidden gems. It was a lot of fun but naturally being a video game it wasn't that simple. In the mine you tried to avoid pitfalls which would send you either plummeting down or spinning out of control back to the beginning, stopping your good progress and often taking you back to square one. The thing was no matter how you tried, no matter how skilled you got or how you practiced, pitfalls were sometimes just impossible to avoid. You fell down or you  spun out of control and once you did you had a choice. You could keep playing and start the sometimes tedious and painful process of beginning again, or you could bag it and turn off the game.

Diet and fitness are just like that. I would even venture to say life is like that. Life is a series of journeys in which you get waylaid, sidetracked, trashed, sick, tired, confused, hurt, and lost. Each time you lose your way you have to determine how to get back on track. Based on your skill, your commitment, your overall energy, and anything else you have managed to store up in your bag of tricks for emergency usage, this can be simple or complicated.

I think everyone has their own private pitfall. That thing that takes them kicking and screaming by the scruff of the neck and tosses them down, down, down, until, in a crumpled heap on the floor, they beg for mercy. I would say life sucks, but I know it doesn't. More truthfully: circumstances often suck.

So how do you go on? How do you move forward from that thing that throws the monkey wrench into your happy little diet and fitness program?

1. Give Up Completely
There is a part of all of us that does this. For me it's the Pasta-with-Oil-and Garlic-Diet. You know what it is for you. Giving up can be a welcome release for a day or two, or even a week, but as a lifestyle I am pretty sure it won't work.

2. Create Peace--Even Artificial Peace
There is something to be said for getting back on track by creating a situation of peace. In my world it is hard to think past the barking, so every once in a while I have to create peace. Peace can look like a latte and a good book in a half hour trip to Starbucks (Nonfat short latte, 100 calories). Or, if you really need to bring out the big guns and you have the wherewithal, a short "spa vacation" can do wonders. A spa vacation doesn't have to look like Housewives of Orange County. Relaxation and renewal can be walking on the beach and resting in a moderate hotel, or walking in your own neighborhood and a good, uninterrupted nap. The point is, when you are hurting, when you have fallen and you can't get up, treat yourself as someone you should healthfully baby for a time; don't take a baseball bat and try to bludgeon yourself into improvement. Being angry at yourself for tripping up only adds anger to disappointment and guilt.

3. Remember Every Second is a Potential New Experience
Even if you have completely messed up, the next second can be the beginning of change. In my world up until recently I saw failure as something I had to emphasize for myself by continuing to screw up until I got that I was a failure. It's a sort of self-defeating thing I am great at and it can become a spiral of despair. But it doesn't have to. You can just start the next second with a different expectation of your personal reality. There is forgiveness in this. In order to move forward you have to forgive your failure.

4. Lower Your Expectations
This isn't a joke. Sometimes you have unrealistic expectations. Maybe drop the bar a bit. What happens if it takes a bit longer to get fit but you are happier during the process? What happens if you eat 1500 calories a day instead of 1200? What happens if you have a "free meal" once a week? I know! You end up happier and less stressed and less likely to fall down into some huge failure experience. It's okay to lower the bar. And it's okay to raise it. The key is your comfort and heck, even enjoyment. Life is supposed to be fun. Okay, it's supposed to be a lot of things, but if it isn't fun too, then something is missing.

5. Just Grow Up and Do What You Said You Would Do Before Your Regrets Multiply!
It is far easier to lose 20 pounds than 100. That being said, there is something to say for just pulling yourself up by your boot straps and doing what you said you would. Now of course there is a fine line between being a rational disciplined being and babying yourself into a corner of self pity. We are all looking for the path that works. The main thing to do is adjust until you have a comfy fit.

And momentum is a precious thing. Once you get yours back guard it carefully. Look for people and situations that support your goals. Look for motivation not criticism. Protect your fledgling positive attitude like a baby bird until it can fly again. Guard your positive energy. And remember you can get up--and you will. I wish you a lovely day, a renewed sense of what works, a hot latte and a hug.