WordArt. Oh my.

One of the tools I use for controlling my sugar addiction is creative writing. Words. If I write my feelings, I’m not as likely to be eating (food or my words). (I suppose I could put in a comment about fiber here, but maybe that’s too out there.)

Recently, I’ve had a little trouble with the writing. And the eating. There’s an eat in creative. Lately, it seems like my creative outlet has been creative eating. I haven’t been eating sugar, but I’ve been eating creatively. Perhaps it could be called freestyle grazing. It’s a slippery slope. I ski what’s happening here.

I’m still trying to find the right forum for my sugar addiction management writing. The blogging community at Weight Watchers was pretty much ideal for me, but Weight Watchers didn’t see it as something worth keeping. Instead, they have replaced the blogging community with a fast paced social media inlet that I don’t get much out of.

I like connecting with people in a conversational way. Weight Watchers’ Connect is pretty much like a popularity contest with not much rhyme or reason for actually connecting with people in a support system that works for me. This blog seems a little too public, at times. Although I appreciate the folks who comment (you know who you are), I’m not sure this is the place for me to work out some things and interact as a support system. So, although it may seem a little fishy, I’m floundering.

Yesterday afternoon, I went to a class at my local library. I had eaten breakfast at 7 a.m. I’d gone to exercise class at 9 a.m. By 10:30 a.m., I was eating my lunch. I have a hunch I was feeding my brain more than my belly. You see, I had a bit of a buzz going on from eating things that don’t agree with me. I’m not looking for yes ma’am foods. I’m wanting foods that go along with me feeling like me. Healthy. Appropriate. Controlled, instead of enslaved. Free to be me foods. Three meals a day. Even if it means adjusting the times. I was trying. But it was trying.

The class was about folding books into art. I was intrigued with the finished product so I had signed up to find out how it was done. I was a little bit nervous about the idea of following directions, but I took a deep breath and decided to approach it from the try angle. I put aside my math anxiety and all the questions that popped up as I read the directions. (Seriously, the what if’s and why’s can be paralyzing.) I waited for the instructor to give the first step. And then I waited for her to make her way around the room, verifying the math each participant had done in preparation for the next step.

I asked a question about a step I didn’t understand. The answer didn’t make sense to me, but I decided to accept it as a lesson in accepting instructions. (It turned out that my questioning had been valid. At the end of the project, my book’s heart was off centered. But that’s okay. The one inside me is, too. And I’ve left it at that.)

These things may seem random, but they are significant to me. I don’t know if they have to do with sugar addiction or attention deficit or autism or apple pie or. (It’s probably nothing to do with apple pie. I haven’t had any for years.) But the other things are awareness issues that might help me adapt once I’ve accepted what’s going on. It’s important for me to know that I can overcome obstacles. Whatever they might be. They are’t me.

Back to the book folding. We did a measure, mark and fold procedure based on a line by line pattern of measurements. It involved measuring with a clear ruler, marking with a pencil, checking off the line of instruction, moving to the next page and repeating with the next line of instruction. It was suggested that we could mark a few pages and then go back and fold. I started off by measuring, marking (page and instructions), and folding each page. Then I switched to measuring and marking several pages before going back and folding. (And then I thought it might be a cool idea to mark a whole book for a folding project and go back to read and fold at the same time. Dog-eared pages to the max! Maybe it would make a nice gift to keep on giving?)

Before the class started, the instructor addressed the issue of “ruining” books by folding them. She didn’t see it as ruining the books. They could be unfolded if a person really wanted to read it again. She also said there were books that she wanted to keep because of memories associated with them. She wouldn’t necessarily read them again, but turning them into art was a way to display them and actually appreciate them more than if they were just sitting on a shelf with a bunch of other books.

Returning to the process of folding the book pages. I was thrilled to find out I could follow the directions. Not only could I follow the directions, I could use this as a creative outlet that wouldn’t involve eating (creatively or otherwise–Rube Goldberg, I am not).  The instructor gave us all bags with another book to fold, more patterns, a pencil, and a clear ruler.

I was a little disappointed that the patterns didn’t include word art–that was what had intrigued me the most in the display of folded books at the library. I liked the idea of making words out of words. I checked online, watched a couple of videos, got some ideas, and jumped into a project on my own. I was quite aware that I’d taken the math, measuring and precision out of the process. I would be folding pages the way I cook and crochet. Creatively.

When I opened Microsoft Word to make a template, it seemed logical to use WORDART. I fooled around with the settings and finally printed out a page with a classic WORDART complete with vertical lines. I started folding last night, but only got partway through the W. This morning, after I exercised with my group and then did yoga with a friend, I came home to work on my book art. I am happy to report that I did not even think of eating while I was folding pages. I finished folding at 11:45 a.m. and fixed myself a hearty lunch.

Here’s a picture. If you squinch your eyes a bit, you can see (or imagine) the WORDART.

While this all may seem rather frivolous (isn’t there laundry to be folded?), I feel like I have made a major step in my re-recovery journey. My heart will go on. It’s not all write. But it’s good.