I am learning those skills.

And it will happen.

But will it happen in May? Stay tuned.

Morning Pages 4-21-2012

Offer it up.

Yesterday I met with my eating disorder specialist. I have Binge Eating Disorder. I haven’t purged in 22 years but I continue to battle binge eating. The specialist and I went over my Emotional Eating Journal and chart for the past 6 weeks.  The first month = 16 incidents of desire to binge evenly spaced throughout the month with 3.5 actual binges. The last 2 weeks = an AMAZING 0 incidents of desire to binge and 0 binges. We discussed why, when my desire-to-binge numbers are high, rated on a scale of 1-10, I sometimes binge, but more often I resist.

No answers.

But an important question is: What tool do I have that I can use to resist the urge when the binge monster is on my back?

Again, no answers. At least not during the session.

I know in my heart I can’t successfully move on to the next phase of change until I have that tool in place. So,  later that same day, I’m driving down the road pondering what tool I might use to defend myself. I needed something special, something reserved just for the times when I feel the temptation to binge. That way, it won’t lose its effectiveness to mundanity.

Using something ordinary to distract myself – like tv or exercise or reading or other humans - has worked in the past, but not consistently. Probably because those things aren’t always instantly available, and a binge can happen quickly. There may not be a tv/human ear/good book/gym around, or even time to put on my tennis shoes.

So I’m pondering this and an idea pops into my head fully formed in a single word. It is “Prayer”. I’m startled, but I immediately see the perfection in it. Prayer is always and instantly available. It travels faster than the speed of binge.

Now how do I use it?

I consider myself a relaxed Catholic. I have no desire to be anything but Catholic and yet I don’t work too hard at the whole thing.

I love God. He loves me. That’s enough.

I pray and meditate daily, but I don’t make a production of it. Short and sweet. In addition I also pray at odd moments during the day, but those prayers consist mainly of random shout-outs of  ”help!” and “thanks!”.

If I’m going to adopt prayer as a tool when the binge monster is trying to climb on my back, I don’t want some long exhausting ritual. I want something that’s natural to my temperament.

I think I know what that should be. But for now I’m not going to say.

If you were in my shoes, what would it be for you?

I miss you, Mom.

                    More than I can say.

- from the journal of Regina Richards 1-24-2011

Mom is nearing the end of the battle. All her life she’s been blessed with physical beauty, an uncommonly sharp mind, a saintly personality, and a deep faith. Now the cancer has ravaged her body and invaded her brain, stealing her mind and changing her personality. 

But cancer has been powerless against her Faith.

For a time I asked, “Father, this woman has been your true and faithful servant. Why must she suffer so? Why must she be stripped of all she was, all those things that were a Glory to You and a Blessing to us? Doesn’t she deserve a gentler, better, more dignified death?”

Though I never asked this in her presence, despite her cancer-ravaged mind, the answer came directly from Mother herself. “I’ve been blessed with an absolutely wonderful life full of people I love who love me and extraordinarily good health until here at the very end. Now I am being stripped of those things and left only with my trust in Him. And that is okay because that’s all I need as I go to Him.”

I don’t believe that cancer and suffering is God’s Will for my mother. It’s simply one of the “things of this world”. I believe that God’s Will for my mother is that she go to Him in complete trust and faith – and perhaps witness to her family before she leaves that she is taking with her as she goes only what is truly essential: Faith, Hope, and Love.

A wry smile tugged at her lips. Her new life was  a far cry from the sunny bungalow-on-the-beach with art-trumps-comfort furnishings she’d shared with David. Though centered on a wide tree-lined lane in what her brother assured her was fast becoming the fashionable part of town, this house was nothing like the beautiful historic homes that surrounded it. Small and shabby, it smelled of decades of dust and neglect. Repairing it hardly seemed worth the effort; tearing it down would make more sense.

- chapter 1, Home Court Advantage

- source: The Englishwoman in Egypt by ophia Poole 1846

She met the man as he reached the bottom step, arching her back just a little so that her round bottom stuck out and her even rounder chest thrust forward. With long carefully manicured nails she reached up to adjust his tie, not quite brushing her breasts to the front of his suit.

“Now Harlan,” she cooed, “you be careful on the road today and no fried food. You know what that does to your stomach.” She gave his stomach a little pat. Harlan’s hand went for Lou Ann’s round bottom. With a sharp smack Lou Ann swatted it away, startling a gasp from Cherry.

“You know better than that, Harley.” Lou Ann didn’t sound the least bit offended. “Now off you go to sell lots of, of, whatever it is you sell. I’ll expect to see you again in a few weeks.”

For a man who’d just had his hand so smartly slapped Harlan looked strangely pleased.

- chapter 5, Cherry’s War

- source: The Englishwoman in Egypt by Sophia Poole 1846

“Gatherin’ ammunition” the old woman had called it.

They’d visited carpenters, roofers, tilers, and painters, hiring a dozen young men. And, regardless of their trade, neither experience nor skill had been high on Aunt Ro’s list of desired qualifications.  The men she’d selected – whether green-eyed blonds, brown-eyed brunettes, or blue-eyed redheads,  brawny or sinewy, shy or flirtatious – all had one thing in common. Each in his own way was a dazzling specimen of his gender.

- chapter 4, Cherry’s War

- source: The Englishwoman in Egypt by Sophia Poole 1846