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Did you find yourself sweeter and kinder after Whole30 reintro?


MeadowLily

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Talk about being gullible. ^^ I wish I would've learned that lesson a long time ago.

It is the worst feeling to fight for someone knowing that you mean nothing to them. Don't waste one more minute doing anything of the kind.

Sugar doesn't love you either.

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You have not because you ask not.

If you don't go after what you want you'll never have it but if the answer is always noooo step forward or you'll get stuck in the same place.

Don't beg anyone for their time or love.

If you're confused you are in the wrong place. Authentic love is not the author of confusion.

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Cheat meals turn into cheat days. Cheat days can run into cheat months. Months and months of non-stop cheat days can turn into an entire year of eating while in the unconscious mode....rebounding with every pound that it took a year or more to release while in the dieting cycle.

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Don't let a day of thrill eating turn into a week.

Don't let a week turn into a month of thrill eating.

Don't let a month turn into a year.

Don't make UP for overeating by undereating or NOT eating.

Remind yourself how far you've come.

Plan each meal.

Revisit your food journal and repeat that awesome week.

Drink water like its your job.

Repeat this tomorrow.

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I find you guilty.  You dirty eater. 

We are a beast of burden to food. You have to know that you're actually locked up before you can set the captive free.

I find these things to be self-evident. When we show and assign contempt for foods - we create more biases.  Extremes beget more extremes. 

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We choose to create imaginary barriers. It starts in childhood.  We don't have to shrink ourselves for someone's comfort.

Don't worry and cower. Don't hide and apologize for everything. There's enough room for all of us in the world.

Always saying you're sorry doesn't mean anything if you don't change your actions.

How often you apologize for yourself = how seriously you're being taken everywhere you go.

Sorry, sorry, sorry.

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No more self-induced Food Prisons or holding pens for free people. They don't work.

How much potential goes unrealized.

The dignity and integrity of self-sufficiency and sustainability is not overrated.  It's okay to Shawshank it. Don't resist it.

It's alright to travel the road by yourself. We're going to have to do it. No one can do it for you or take care of your personal relationship with food for the rest of your life.

Generations and generations of dependency won't fix it. It's not a sell-out to move beyond. Always traveling with the herd and staying with the pack creates malaise, melancholy and boredom.

That can lead to addiction.

Recovery comes first.

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When it's too calm you get an uneasy feeling. Everything is too quiet. The calm before the storm.

Something doesn't feel right.

Addiction is chaos. It blows into your life like a storm. It tears the nails and windows right out of your house.

Recovery creates an opening to the sky.

 

 

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It's not bragging if it's true. I think S.T. has one of the most interesting faces I've ever seen. I'm fascinated by every angle.

I've been to Italy and studied Michelangelo's Moses from every angle. You can see something different looking  from every direction and the eyes follow you wherever you go. 

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While milling around and shooting the breeze with the Universe about food addiction, W30, Food Freedom...it's been fun. I've stopped editing myself. 

Lifestyle blogs can be the dullest blogs in the world. You set off in a chosen direction and if you want to switch horses in the middle of the stream you don't feel like you can.

You're being held captive in another self-imposed holding pen. Those become boring because you're bored out of your mind, too.

You become tired and your dreary old soggy boggy bottom blog puts you to sleep. You try to return to your starting position but you've passed that a long, long time ago.  

There's no such thing as the Finish Line. You can crank out those blogging posts and no one may ever give a multi-crap or two hoots about them.

It's good medicine to come to the end of yourself. Filled to the brim with self, the super ego and ego. 

And just like that, when you think you've come to the end of yourself - you're filled back UP with self and pride comes before the fall.

So what is this then.

What we have here is a daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of a spiritual condition.

I manage food and it doesn't manage me.

There's blathering and foaming. Song and dance. Mostly, there's freedom. It's all fun. Really.

Just when I think I'm inches from a clean getaway, I get sad. This is my Hole-N-The-Wall.  My hideout. I can stay hidden in here for days on end.  I have, too.

Coming to the end of yourself means surrender.

When you come to the end of yourself you'll find the Beginning.

 

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These are selfies of my thoughts.

When you edit your selfie thoughts for others, the thrill and flow is gone.

Can you tell the difference between fiction and non-fiction.  Discernment.

Fiction is making up imaginary stories and things to keep someone's attention. If the words become jumbled because there's no authentic timeline or experiences to keep you hooked, you know someone is pulling the wool over your eyes.  

Fiction is describing a movie you didn't really see or a book you didn't read. It can take you from a tense state to a depressed and anxious state in just a few words. Fiction can cycle through moods, abrupt changes in moods and give you wild roller-coaster rides.

Food addiction or disorder is rapidly increasing the amount of food you eat. Dieting or exercising obsessively. There will be wild swings UP and down. Extreme weight gain or weight loss. There will be excuses and massive rationalization.

There may be blame for others or hormones, stressful circumstances. The changes are subtle in the beginning but food addiction and disorder progresses.

Others begin to notice the merry-go-round that you live on. There's secret eating. You may dwindle your food choices down into 2 or 3 items.  Maybe you only eat one small plate of food aday and pretend it's more or your backseat is loaded to the gills with food wrappers.

You throw food out the window as you tool along down the highway. Taking a bite of this or that and tossing the rest out for the birds or animals. 

Abby normal becomes the normal.  A life filled with maxi-mums and mini-mums.  Some order out of all of that chaos must be imposed.

You've got to know that you're actually locked up before you can ask for help and get yourself free.  It's fear that keeps you in a lifelong holding pattern of food addiction and disorder.

 

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https://www.cbsnews.com/news/john-le-carre-becomes-depressed-after-finishing-a-book/

  I watched this interview.

Le Carré, whose real name is David Cornwell, says the end of a book is the beginning of the most depressing times in his life. "It's a feeling of-- you've depleted everything you've been working on," says Cornwell.

Cornwell should start feeling more cheerful soon.  "Out of the ashes of the last book, so to speak, comes the phoenix of the new one, and then life's OK again… Each book feels like my last book. And then I think, like a dedicated alcoholic, that one more won't do me any harm."

Asked if he had another idea for a book, he responds quickly, "Absolutely. I can't wait to get to it."

Out of the ashes of yesterday is today. Joy comes in the morning and everything is new again. Clear the decks.

No Guilty Pleasures or Cheat Meals.

I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings, too.

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Food prepping makes me feel like I know what I'm doing with my life.

Flying by the seat of your pants is not a badge of honor. I used to wing it. Look how that all turned out.

I like making Extra Eggs in the morning. That's a fancy  dish with cooked cherry tomatoes, sliced avocado, eggs boiled for exactly 8 minutes, black pepper, cayenne pepper and/or red pepper flakes. Bacon bits. 

All of the tiddlywinks are stacked beautifully on the plate. I add a bowl of sliced fresh fruits. I swill a Mango, Apricot or Blackberry Cucumber LaCroix with my breakfast because that's just the way I roll.

Hunting season is here.  That means all kinds of things but I get to pick what I want to eat. I don't have to share or compromise.

It can be all about me, me, me.

I used to go for hikes with an older woman. She was hi-larious. I told her that we were in pursuit of the Tiny Hiney. After that, she always called me Tiny Hiney

It wasn't true but we laughed our heads off. She died of cancer. I called her on the phone and visited with her right up until she was no longer able to talk. 

I miss Tiny Hiney.

I have always gravitated towards the older folkaronies. My sibs, too.  They're less judgmental but still very opinionated.

I'm laughing about another grande dame that passed. She would tell other women that they had waaay too much makeup on their faces. She told one woman to quit smiling so widely because she didn't want to look at her gums. :D  She could be offal awful. Your clothes are too tight. She had no filters and we all tolerated it because of her age. We gave her a free pass.

She said things to me, too. Inside of my closet, I keep her In Loving Memory program with her photo.

I see that face and I think about how opinionated she was. She was a pragmatist. 

She always said don't just go on the hearsay of others. Learn to think and stand on your own two feet. She was another legend of the wild, wild, west.

I try not to be Ms. Preachy Pants but we're a product of our raising. It "takes a village" to really reach for happiness every day.  

Embrace all the healthy. Laugh entirely too much. Complain much, much less. 

Don't get caught between completely overreaching and totally underachieving. Remember your New Year's optimism.

I like can't fool myself realism. Somewhere between gung-ho and ho-hum is balance. I still miss Ms. Preachy Pants and Tiny Hiney and Paw.  Strong folk of the mountains.

 

 

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