Front and Back Story.

My last two posts were a bit of a front. The back story is that I’ve been having some trouble with grazing. I’m not sure where it came from. It might have been some of the meat I had last weekend. I didn’t remember until after I’d eaten it that it had dextrose in it. I don’t know if my struggles since then have been related to that, but I’ve been struggling. I haven’t been eating sugar, but I’ve eaten between meals and it hasn’t been because I was hungry.

It’s a former habit that feels like sugar addiction. Out of control. I’m not interested in keeping it around. But I have to be willing to work my tools the way they work for me. Logging my foods, blogging my moods, and jogging my moves. Here’s the blogging.

Earlier in the week, things were going well until I tasted the no sugar added lime curd I’d made. There was no reason for me to not wait until lunchtime to try it. But there I was cleaning out the saucepan at 9 in the morning. It doesn’t work for me, but I had a taste. And it worked against me. It sounds to me like an excuse. But that adds to negative feelings and that doesn’t work for me either. It’s a matter of Awareness, Acceptance, and Adapting. AAA for emergency blowouts and change of attire. If I don’t do this, my attire change will be for a larger size.

Yesterday I helped my mother with yard work. I mowed the lawn, used the string trimmer, took care of some weeds in the gravel part of her driveway, and did some other things. My dad used to take care of all of that and more. His shop was neat and organized. And the yard was like a park. And then, a little more than three years ago, he had a massive stroke and couldn’t do any yard work (or a lot of other things). He passed away in January of 2014.

I’ve worked in that yard many times in the past three years. At first, I could get a little help from my dad with a sketch or some other innovative communication regarding how to start up a machine or where something was located. I found out I could do a lot more than I’d thought I could do. And I think I felt close to my dad while I was trying to do things that he had done so well for so long. I know I got a deeper appreciation for him.

Yesterday was the first time in a while that I’ve been able to help with yard work. And for some reason, it was a very emotional experience. The lawn tractor has a parking spot in the garage now. I don’t have to maneuver it out of the  basement door anymore. That’s a big improvement, but I always felt a bit of awe that my dad could navigate it by the support columns and doorway with ease. In all the times I moved that John Deere in and out of the basement, I had to make numerous attempts except for the one time I got it right on the first try. (For full disclosure, I will say there are double doors that open to the lower driveway. No stairs or tipping the tractor on its side to get it out the door.)

My mother had a new cordless string trimmer to figure out. The first figure was that I had to go get string for it. Bother.My dad’s old heavy duty weed whacker was hanging up in the basement and I considered just using it instead of the new tool, but I couldn’t find the gas can that had the right gas/oil mix. All I could find were tears. I really didn’t enjoy using that old string trimmer, but I have a picture that my dad drew while he was in the hospital. He was trying to help me understand the primer button, but it didn’t click in my mind until six months after he died and I was watching YouTube videos to try to start the machine. That string trimmer and I worked together with a somewhat grudging mutual respect once I got it started. And that was over.

In cheerier news, I’ll report that once I got the proper string and figured out how to load it, I liked the new trimmer a lot. My mother took a turn with it and I think she is pleased that she can do it herself. I was able to get the trim work done on one and a half charges of the battery along with a side use in the new cordless leaf blower. It’s a big yard. Onward.

All of that is a bit more front for the back story of grazing. I snacked my way home yesterday. Sweet potato chips and cherries. Not bad (too bad) food, but not what works for me. My I’m Possible Journey was made possible in part by me analyzing my foods and behaviors. Some might call it obsessive. I call it learning to live with sugar addiction.

Addiction is tricky. It’s sneaky. It’s deceptive. It pretends to be your friend. That’s what I know from experience. And when I don’t pay attention, when I’m not aware of what’s going on, it gets me.

I realized this past week that I was getting a little too wound up in my no sugar added experiments. As if no sugar is the only component of what works for me to be in control. I think I got a little distracted from paying attention to how I was feeling and didn’t notice that it wasn’t so great.

Perhaps some of that distraction included health issues from a bug bite I got and reacted to on our midwest trip. I won’t go into details, but the last five weeks have involved quite a bit of pain, doctors visits, lab work, needle biopsy, drainage, antibiotics, and more antibiotics. No answers as to what it was. All the scary tests came back negative. The lump is going down. It’s not nearly as painful as it was. Abscessed lymph node is going away.

Maybe a little more distraction was the excitement of having a new grandson and the disappointment of not being able to go meet him and spend time with the rest of that dear little family of five. It’s not an excuse to graze, but maybe it involved a little pity party. Addiction loves pity parties.

Other stresses and messes as well. Life does that. And sugar addiction messes it up more. It messes up Maureen. Perhaps it’s not really sugar addiction, because I didn’t actually have added sugar in this grazing episode. Perhaps it could be labeled food addiction. I guess I’d have to say the front label isn’t what matters so much. Considering it as an addiction helps me deal with it. I’ve found what works for me to be in control and when I let parts of it slip, so do I. Seriously.

I’m in the process of getting a grip.



One thought on “Front and Back Story.

  1. Thanks for sharing! All good to read- the part about your dad touched me. My father-in-law built the family home. He was a brick layer and he could build, fix anything, yard work, cars, plumbing. Their home was well maintained and cared for. About two years after he passed away (after Page’s Mom had previously died) the whole brick house blew up, due to a gas leak. I told my husband, “I bet your dad is so mad at us. For fifty years, he had the perfectly tended home and look what we did.” It wasn’t anyone’s fault- but still!

    Liked by 1 person

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