Old Words, New Poetry

I love to write, I know I've said it before. I am working (very slowly) on a novel. Meanwhile, I have been working on what I'd like to call the frazzled mom's novel-poems. I am entering a poetry contest at my local library. The due date is this coming Saturday. Surprisingly, I have been working on my poems for at least three weeks. That usually doesn't happen. I live on procrastination.

Last week was insane. I was way overscheduled and it led to poor sleep, extra stress and emotional hangovers. I knew that my reward for getting through last week was working more intensely on my poems.

My high school creative writing teacher is the voice in my head, even to this day. She was the one who taught me that writing is really about re-writing, about editing and word choice and the like. I am including two poems in this post. They are the two poems I'm submitting to the contest.

The first poem is on the third draft. I am hoping to get to the tenth draft before Saturday (when the poems are due). The second poem is going to be forged in a wine press of limited time. It's just the first draft.

My plan is to re-post the poems when I submit them. Then, for all the geeks out there, they can see the evolution of my work. (I'm positive I can count on my one hand the people that want to do that.)

In any case, Here they are.

Words
by Susan Carbajal

Words sprout me gossamer wings,

Erupt

Me into the sky. Silvery and translucent over my back,

Crisp air sweeps my breath.

My fingers brush

Clouds, wispy and damp on my fingertips. Sun blazes, searing

Through my closed eyelids.

Words plummet me to Earth,

Anchor

Me to the sand, chains

Around my neck. Nails break off as I claw, choking

On fear, failure. I vomit loss

Of opportunity, of love, bile

Burns the tears from my eyes, agony washes

Over my face. Mistakes reverberate

Between my ears, ugly and hollow like rotted logs.

Words quiver my lover’s skin,

Arrows

To his heart, anticipation waking desire.

My lips brush his ear, words breeze over,

Willowy promises reaching down his spine.

Words drip from my chin, red

As I crouch over my victims’

Spoils.

Tearing flesh, words work jagged teeth

Across felled friends.

A forest lies in my wake, decay sweet

I lift my nose, spit derision, move

Toward the horizon.

Words soothe, a calming balm

On wounds

Hidden

Under sarcasm, quick wit. My heart strains

As infection festers
away from prying eyes.

Silent, my heart slows it’s beat, crushed

under the weight

Of words.

The second poem I would like to dedicate to my dad. He is absolutely my #1 fan, my biggest cheerleader and the person voted most likely to cry when he reads this. I love you, daddy. You mean the world to me and I am grateful that you are so full of love for my babies.

Growing Up

by Susan Carbajal

She was a difficult child. Teachers called her

Sensitive, scheduled conferences.

Suicide almost took her life. He watched her, helpless,

His heart throbbing in pain where she had pierced it.

Growing up was difficult

For her.

To watch.

Awkward, she struggled to fly

Away to new friends, new

Opportunities.

She left for college, potential swelling

In front of her, fear awash in her wake.

His hair grayed as she fought the demon

Alcohol, almost lost

Everything.

His heart dried up, empty

From hope lost through small leaks.

Small slivers burrowed back in

As she clawed up

From the mire,

From the destruction

She had wielded over herself.

Years passed and his heart grew

Back, softened

By new potential, spring

After things lie dead and dormant.

Pregnant

With hope

With the first grandchild, 

he feared

That his heart had reached capacity.

In the hospital room he rounded

The bed, laid eyes on the mewling

New

Helpless

Form next to her.

A thousand beams, birthed

From the seeds of hope dropped

On fertile soil,

Tear at his heart, spill out

Onto cheeks wrinkled

From laughter

From worry.

His grandson is beautiful, his eyes declare,

The best of everyone contained in a new

Skein, supple and pliable.

His daughter in tears, he reflects that growing up

Has agreed with her. Sensitive has moved

From liability to asset.

Demons have been conquered, opportunity

Stretches

Into the horizon

Into the heart of his new grandson.

I feel like poetry is akin to sculptors working in clay, marble, etc. The artists say that the sculpture is there and it's just their job to chip away at all the parts that don't belong. I feel like it's the same way with poems. It's all there, I just have to make sure there aren't words getting in the way.

And now the worst part of writing and (eek!) putting it on the interwebs. I have to sit and wait, my heart pounding, to see what people think about it. (Because obviously I don't know what to think about it unless other people tell me. That's not entirely true but I am very suggestible.)

A Beautiful Gift in (God's) Perfect Time

I am seldom at a loss for words. It just doesn't happen. The gift God heaped on me was using words and so it's very rare that I find myself unable to form words. 

I am happy to report that this just happened earlier this evening. 

Let me lay the groundwork.

Anyone who reads my blog regularly knows that this winter just knocked it all out of me. Like everything--all my hope, all my sanity, all my health. All the meters were on zero at one point. My attendance at my Thursday activities (MOPS and Bible study) has been spotty at best. Really, I've made it to less than half of all of the meetings, either because I or my kids were sick.

One of the times I made it to Bible study, back in January, I was death-metal angry with God. I mean, I was lobbing profanity-laced prayers at him. Things had come to a head with Brian's job, our health was awful, my depression was deep and black and seemingly endless. 

I went to this particular Bible study fuming mad. I mean, if I had been a cartoon character, there would have been a black smoke cloud over my head. I was feeling very low. I had hoped that I could keep all of that to myself. I love to use words but I hesitate to use ugly words in front of people who hardly know me. I prefer to try and keep the illusion of my perfection alive for as long as possible. 

I had no intention of letting the dam break that day. I drew an extensive picture in my Bible study binder, I thought ugly things and I sat in the back of the room. 

But God had a plan.

Someone said something and it set me off. The person who said it has been through the wringer, too. She is not in the wringer now, but she has been there. She knows the pain I am feeling. The words she spoke are true for her now, after having been wrung out. She was not being condescending or Christian-y or anything like that. She was speaking God's truth.

It was the straw that broke the camel's back. It felt like the words she spoke were like water on hot coals. I steamed over and let angry words pour out of me. Trust me, they weren't the uncensored version. It was definitely the PG version of the very R-rated rant that had been building in my brain. 

The leader, another wonderful and authentic woman of Christ, asked to pray for me. I angrily said no, because I didn't want the prayers. I didn't want to be comforted, I didn't want to be patted on the back. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to break something. I was foot-stomping, tantrum-throwing mad at God.

That day, before I left (early, before class was even over), one of the women in the study gave me $50. I was so ashamed by that. One of the reasons I never like to share is because I don't want people to think I'm going around with my hand out. I don't like charity. I am grateful for it, oh so grateful, but I don't like it. I don't like being powerless. It feels overwhelming to have people be generous with me. I don't feel like I deserve it.

I wanted to give the money back. The problem was that there was something I had to pay for and it ended up costing (almost exactly) $50 more than I was expecting it to cost. I had to swallow my pride and put the gift down on the counter at the vet's office. 

Since that day in January, my anger and vitriol has mellowed. I am still frustrated by the situations swirling around us. As I told a friend, I am not Pollyanna about the situations, but I'm not so death metal about them anymore. I have been able to make it to MOPS and Bible study, though we still have been dealing with ill health. 

So a month ago, I went to Bible study. I have not been intentional or disciplined about my homework. I started off the year doing pretty well, but with everything that has happened (coupled with the normal activities of life), I have fallen off pretty steeply with it. A month ago, I did complete some of the homework. We were just being done with the stomach flu, so my half-hearted stab at it felt like more than enough effort. 

Two weeks ago, I was starting to battle a sinus/ear infection, so I didn't attend the study. Tomorrow is the next Bible study day. Accordingly, after painting with my girlfriends tonight, I sat down on the couch and opened my binder. 

There was an envelope in the left side of the binder, peeking out above the built-in pocket of the vinyl binder. It was plain and white and had my name written on it in block letters. It was thick and I assumed it was a letter of encouragement. I really didn't have a clue about it's contents. 

It wasn't until I saw the contents of the envelope that I lost the ability to speak. I pulled a stack of 10 $100 bills. I started bawling. Brian was sitting on the other end of our sectional and I looked at him and gestured toward the envelope. I was gobsmacked and could do nothing more than gesture and make random squeaking noises. He seemed a bit annoyed and so I waved him over to see what I was talking about. Then I really lost it, because when he took the money into his hands, it somehow became more real. 

Someone in my Bible study gave my family $1000. Even typing that makes me burst into tears. I don't feel like anything I could write could adequately express my gratitude. I don't feel like words could measure how tremendous a gift this is for my family. It gives us some margin where there hasn't been any. It means that tomorrow, when I go to the store, I can buy all the fresh produce we will need to make it through to next week, rather than just a few apples to fudge our way through. It means my savings will quadruple by the end of the month. I won't have to stop saving in order to afford paying for Bekah's dance class and recital costumes. I can have money set aside for emergencies. 

I am ashamed that I didn't discover the gift until tonight. It means that there was $1000 sitting in my garage, in my untouched binder, for a month. A solid month. I am ashamed that my family needs a gift like this. I am ashamed because I will never be able to thank the people who were so abundantly kind to me. 

But here's the thing. These gracious people, who gifted this to us, were I know following God's prompting. They want to be anonymous because they don't want to take credit for doing something God was calling them to do. To those people, I thank you for listening and responding to God's calling. I know you know how much this means to my family. I know you know how grateful I am for such a generous gift. Earlier today I counted the money I had left for groceries and wasn't sure how it would stretch to cover all we needed. 

It reminded me of a story in 1 Kings 17, where Elijah encounters a widow upon arriving in Zeraphath. He asks her for water and a slice of bread. She is honest with him--she is gathering sticks to go home and use the remaining oil and flour she has to make a meal for herself and her son...and then die. Elijah then says, (v. 13-14, NIV), "Elijah said to her, "Don't be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small loaf of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your sonFor this is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: 'The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the LORD sends rain on the land.'"

Whenever I am feeling like there's not enough for groceries, I think about that story. I know that no matter what, there will always be enough. I don't think about that with wants, but I know that our needs will always, always be met. And they always have been. So reading this story is more than just reading words on a page. It's an affirmation for me that what God writes about in the Bible is really true. This is so huge for someone whose faith is low. This has done more than provide for my family financially--it has replenished our faith stores (which were dangerously low) and given us some rest.

Dear readers, please understand something important. God is not a vending machine or Santa Claus. He is not in the business of giving us what we want in the way that we want it. He is in the business of meeting our needs. He is sovereign and knows how best to do that. Frequently, it doesn't look the way we think it should. I have often joked, through our financial struggles, that what I want is a sack of cash on my front porch. God, in his infinite wisdom, knows that this is not the best way to answer our prayers. 

I want to make it so clear that God's provision has been on my family in so many myriad ways over the past seven or so years. It has sometimes been in this way, anonymous gifts of money. More often, though, it is smaller (though not less significant) gifts, of food or toys for the kids or clothes. The gifts have always come just when we needed them, when we were most desperate for a sign that God was still holding us in the palm of His hand.

It's been my hope, through all of this, that God would be given glory for any beautiful thing that comes out of these struggles. I consider all of my children gifts from God, but Doug especially because he was born a month after we had filed for bankruptcy. I don't think there was any better way for God to show us hope than with the birth of our beautiful, crazy boy. This latest gift, then, is all about God. It's not about the person who gifted it. I am not obligated to pay them back, to give an accounting of how I've spent each dime. As it is a gift from God, I am beholden to God about it. I don't have to seek these people out and gush about how wonderful they are; that's not the point of the gift. They don't want me to feel tied to them inexplicably. They don't want me to thank them--they want me to give thanks to God, which is upon whom I will heap the thanks.

Friends, please know that this doesn't solve all our problems. I am not seeing this as the final provision or the resolution of this season of our life. Rather, I see it as further affirmation that God has a plan for our lives. His hand of provision is ever-present, tangible and real. It's not empty words in an old book--it is alive and well, living in the hearts of the people around me who, like me, are Christ-followers in a broken world.

A month ago, things were about the same but our pockets were a bit more padded. This gift would have been just as remarkable back then, but receiving it tonight made it so much easier to see that the gift came straight from God. This doesn't completely assuage my guilt about not doing my bible study homework, but obviously God knew my heart well enough to know that I'd get the gift at the right time.

Kevin Hart was on Conan a while back. He was speaking about his mother, who has supported him wholly in his dream to become a comedian. She told him she would pay for his rent for the first year he was in L.A. Before he left her house, she gave him a Bible. Every month, he would call her and ask her where the rent check was. She would ask if he had been reading his Bible. "Yes," he would say, "but mom, I need that rent check." She just kept telling him to read his Bible. He was so frustrated and fell behind in paying his rent. After a few months of this, he was very close to being evicted. He finally sat down and opened the Bible, only to find that his mom had tucked the rent checks into different pages of the Bible. 

This story takes on such new meaning to me. I have been pleading with God lately, mostly that he would provide the right job and the right conditions for Brian. All along, the answer has always been to study His word more. I am hopeful that I am able to finish strong with this study. I feel a renewed sense of energy and faith in God. I don't know any more of His plan than I did 4 hours ago, when I found the gift. I do, however, have affirmation that God knows the plan and has my family firmly gripped in his powerful hands. 

Please continue to pray for Brian's job search. I will remain hopeful that the right job is out there. God's timing is always perfect, always. He is so good to us. 

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

A couple of weeks ago, a close friend shared that she was overwhelmed. She has been trying to get healthy for some time. The problem, as she sees it, is that there are too many people giving advice. Even more, the advice they give tends to be self-serving.

What I mean is, the people who are trying to help people get healthy are usually selling some kind of shake, powder, pill, meal plan, etc. I do not disagree with my friend. Step over to a Barnes & Noble (remember what those are) or the library and there is a plethora of books available on the subject of getting healthy.

I feel like celebrities are following some invisible protocol whereby they should all release a book on healthy eating or living. Gwyneth Paltrow has done it, as have Cameron Diaz and 50 Cent.

Here's my problem. This friend has some amount of disposable income, so she can decide to embark on a 21-day fix or some such program. I, on the other hand, have no disposable income available for things like that. I work with my fabulous trainer, Kate, and I feel like my money is well-spent with her. Other than that, I try to spend the remaining amount of money I have on healthy foods.

What my friend said was upsetting for me. I got upset because here is a well-educated, talented girl who is just feeling so overwhelmed by All the Things, as she would say. There is just so much information on what to eat, what not to eat, when to eat it, how much to eat, when to work out, what kind of workout is best, etc., etc. It is like swimming in a turbulent ocean and not being able to find your footing.

This all got me thinking. I am by no means an expert in weight loss or nutrition. I have, however, managed to (very slowly) lose about 60 pounds and overhaul my eating in the past three years. As my funds so far have been very limited, I've done most of it while not spending too much money at all. So I decided to make a list of the ten things I've done to lose weight. Most, if not all, require very few resources. I am hoping there are ten, because lists should always have ten things (in my mind, anyway).

So here goes.

1. Drink water. This is, by far, the easiest way to lose weight. Our bodies are made up of mostly water. In general, we are not drinking enough. If you are feeling thirsty, you are already dehydrated. In some cases, your body can mistake the feeling of thirst for the feeling of hunger. This can cause you to eat unnecessarily and inadvertently pack on the pounds. Not sure which one it is? Drink a full 8 ounces of water and wait 20 minutes. If you are still hungry, eat! If not, drink some more water and wait to eat until your next meal. Aim for 8 8-ounce glasses of water. Drink more if you indulge in any pop, coffee or other beverages. (I am currently doing a challenge on Facebook where I am aiming for 80 ounces of water a day. It's kind of nuts, but I am noticing a decrease in my appetite in general and in my craving for sweets.)

2. Put your fork down. Yep, that sounds nuts. The reality is that we tend to eat too fast. In other parts of the world, meals are seen as a gathering, an opportunity for conversations and friendships. Here, however, we tend to shovel our food down as fast as we can--we have things to do! We have to take our kids to All the Places. I get it, I really do. Wednesday nights are rushed around here. I never, ever, start dinner prep soon enough. Like ever. So typically I am wolfing down my meal as I'm getting ready to race Bekah to AWANA. My suggestion is this--during meals that you are able, put your fork down between bites. So simple, I know, but it does a couple of things. First, it allows you to savor what you are eating. You will actually have a chance to enjoy the taste of what you have made. Second, it slows down the process of eating. There is a disconnect between your brain and your stomach. Typically, it takes 20 minutes for the two organs to communicate fullness to one another. If you are eating more slowly, you are giving a chance for your body to tell you that it's full. You will be amazed at how much you will not be able to eat just by doing this. (For extra credit, take a sip of water after every bite. This will also help you feel fuller sooner.

3. Put your phone/iPad/TV program/book down. This correlates with number 2. If you are not paying attention to your food and to the activity of eating, you are going to eat more than you should. Meals (again, when possible), should be a chance for you and your family to connect with one another. Even if you're single, take 15 minutes to eat a meal without distraction. The emails/texts/FB updates will be there for you when you're done. Brian and I started doing this at the beginning of February and it's made a difference in how much we're eating. We actually have leftovers a lot more than we ever did before.

4. Skip takeout. Look, I am ambitious. (And also lack a plethora of disposable income.) I make most of  our family's meals almost every single day. I do plan for leftovers 2-3 times a week, but otherwise I am cooking meals from scratch. Roll your eyes, I know. You have to do All the Things. You can't cook every meal at home. You like the food at Portillo's a lot. Trust me, I get it. I really do. Here's what I will say, though. Food that is prepared in restaurants usually comes in portions that are too big. Food that is prepared in restaurants has a higher sodium and sugar content than food prepared at home. Food that is prepared in restaurants is typically not as fresh as that which is prepared at home. Hey, listen--I love Portillo's. I used to order a Big Beef with mozzarella cheese and a large order of fries, plus a slice of chocolate cake (cause, yum). Since I've started eating more food that I prepare myself, I can't tolerate that much food from Portillo's. The sandwiches and fries, while still yummy, taste much saltier than they ever used to taste. I cannot eat movie theater popcorn in any quantity. Panera's baked goods taste very stale to me. Again, I know there are healthy choices now at a lot of restaurants. I'm saying, even if they are labeled healthy, the food you prepare at home is much better for you in the long run. Try to eat two less meals out a week (or month or however often you eat out). You will start to see a big difference in how your taste buds operate.

5. Move more. Weight loss is really nothing more than expending more calories than you ingest. I love to run and I have learned to love working with Kate, my trainer. Again, that costs some money. However, there are exercise videos available at the library for free! Yep, free. If you are starting out with moving more, take a representative sample home from the library and find what you enjoy. If it's Zumba, great. If it's Jillian Michaels yelling at you, fantastic. Aim to move more than you had previously moved. I'm not saying to start working out 60 minutes a day. That's crazy and you'll never sustain it. Start small--even 15 minutes of cardiovascular exercise (where you have difficulty carrying on a conversation) a day is great! If you are just starting out, don't stress about a heart-rate monitor, FitBit, etc. Those are great tools but they are not necessary for helping you get started. Please note, tools like My Fitness Pal will help you estimate how many calories a specific exercise will burn. Always underestimate. You don't want to eat all of the calories you are burning.

6. Eat more nutrient-dense foods. Hal Higdon, in his book on marathon training, suggests eating a "wide variety of lightly-processed foods." This does not mean becoming a gourmet, drastically restricting your diet, adopting a crazy set of rules about food. This means, if you have a choice between orange juice and an orange, pick an orange. Read labels more. Even if something is marketed as organic or gluten free, read the label. Anything you're buying in a bag, box or can has a lot of sodium and other yuck in it. Again, I'm not saying to cook everything from scratch or throw out all the boxes, cans and bags in your house. What I'm saying is, educate yourself. Be a good consumer--there is nothing wrong with taking your time through the store looking for healthier options.

7. Ditch the snack foods. I know, revolutionary. My family hardly ever has cookies, candy, sweets, or any snack in a single-serving pack in our home. We have pretzels, we make popcorn in our air popper, and every once in a while I bake something at home. My philosophy is that if it's not in my house, I'm not as prone to want to mindlessly eat it. I spent some money on small Glad containers (snack-size) and use those to pack things for my kids lunches. I save money not buying fruit snacks, chips and other things that are typical lunch fare. I also save a lot of calories. This is a great opportunity to swap out a salty/sugary snack for a whole food like fruit, nuts, granola, etc. Again, more nutrition, less calories will lead to weight loss.

8. Educate yourself. The library is a great resource for books on nutrition. One of my favorites is Salt, Sugar, Fat: How the Food Giants Hooked Us, by Michael Moss. He is a journalist who takes a very meticulous look at how the big food manufacturers produce their food. It's eye-opening and is one of the reasons my family doesn't eat out as much and stays away from a lot of processed foods. A word of caution--too much information can be a dangerous thing. My general rule of thumb is to be picky with what I read. I like Mr. Moss because he is a journalist. He's not trying to sell me on buying a bunch of supplements and other things. Rather, he is trying to educate me. I have mixed feelings on Michael Pollan (The Herbivore's Dilemma) because I feel he takes too hard a line about how we should consume our food. I don't have the resources at my disposal to only shop at farmer's markets. So use good judgement. Talk to friends about what books have helped them--be sure to listen to whether or not they ended up subsequently plopping down a bunch of money for food the book "suggested." This probably means you should steer clear. (I would also recommend Fast Food Nation, by Eric Schlosser, for the same reasons I recommend Salt, Sugar, Fat. Schlosser is an investigative journalist and he shines a light on the fast food industry. Really a fascinating read.)

9. Dump the carbonated beverages. I have heard more and more studies lately about how harmful Diet Coke, Coke, etc., are for our bodies. As someone who used to drink gallons of Diet Coke a month, I can tell you that it was not doing me any favors. I wasn't drinking enough water, was craving sugar and other salty foods and constantly felt fatigued and "blah." I gave up Diet Coke two years ago and I've not looked back. I will say that I occasionally enjoy a Sierra Mist, 7UP or Sprite. I don't get as much satisfaction out of them as I used to get. Even more, I've had an uptick in bladder infections after I consume them. (My mom also has this issue, which is why she doesn't drink them at all.) I mention Diet Coke because it is touted as a diet beverage. There is nothing about it that contributes to a healthy lifestyle, in my opinion. Dump it. If that seems overwhelming, cut your consumption in half, wait a month and cut it in half again, until you have quit altogether. I can almost guarantee that you won't miss it or the pounds you will lose when you stop drinking it. Can't imagine life without carbonation? Try La Croix. I haven't, because that's not really my thing. I tried coffee for a while but it was tearing up my stomach, so I have recently switched to green tea (which is great because it has catechins--Google that). Honestly, I don't miss carbonation as much as I thought I would.

10. Make small, incremental changes. I can't stress enough how huge it has been for me to make small, manageable changes in my diet and lifestyle. I have never, in three years, eliminated an entire food group (I don't consider Diet Coke a food group). I have never said a food is off limits. I have never said I am not allowed to eat at (fill in the blank) restaurant. As a result, I have never felt deprived. I have, however, noticed that my taste buds have changed dramatically. I don't like to eat at restaurants as much, unless the food is really good. I say no to desserts that don't look like they're worth it  (even if it's a designated dessert night). I eat less bread, but bread is not off-limits. I started just within the past few weeks shifting how I eat during the day. I used to eat a late breakfast and have three eggs, a baked potato and three slices of toast (along with coffee and sweetener). Now, I started making granola and have that, along with about 8 ounces of whole milk plain yogurt (not as strong as it used to taste) for breakfast. For lunch, I chop up a huge handful of spinach leaves and onions and scramble an equivalent of two egg whites, one regular egg and 3 tablespoons of whole milk all together. I have a baked potato and either water or green tea with honey. I can tell you that I feel less sluggish throughout the day, I am eating far more veggies than I used to and overall am consuming far fewer hidden calories than I was (e.g., in the coffee creamer and butter on my toast). I don't feel like I'm missing my bread too much. I have bread--just the other night I made chicken salad sandwiches--but I'm not eating as much and instead I'm eating more nutrient-dense foods. There is a little more elbow grease involved in my current meal plan, but it's not as much as I previously thought and it's well-spent because my omelets are delicious!

Yay, there were 10! I hope one or more of these will help anyone who is currently overwhelmed in trying to make a change. You don't need to be. There are plenty of ways to make a change without spending too much change. So far, these changes have helped me in a huge way with even my limited resources.

The last rule to remember is Rule #63, not to take yourself too seriously. If making a change in your life seems tedious, you will not stick with it. I guarantee that. Whatever you decide to do to make changes, make sure there is plenty of room for being human. If not, you will find yourself stuck.

On Seeking Community

I am at my parents' house watching their dogs. I am getting ready to go to the library. Those of you who know me know that the library is close to being a house of worship for me. I have loved books and writing for a long time. It's something that brings me a lot of joy. There is something comforting in admitting to the librarian that I don't want to be without a book over a long weekend. Even more comforting? When she says she feels the same way.

My sophomore year English teacher, Mrs. Morrison, thought it was important that we learn the Latin and Greek roots for words. I mentioned in my last blog post that English can be a very limited language, but learning Greek and Latin cracks the language wide open.

For example, the word community comes from the Latin word "communis." It means "common, public, general." The root, comm, is the beginning of a lot of words that denote togetherness--think commune, community, committee.

I have been writing since before I was in high school. I had a great writing community in high school, but after I graduated I lost track with that group of people. I have never sought out a new community for plenty of reasons. Chief among them are fear and arrogance.

I'll start with fear. I am an outgoing person, there is no question. I am the one who greets new people, I am good at conversing with random people, I thrive on being in the middle of groups. It's what drives me.

The exception is that I don't like to walk into places where I know no one. It's a scary thing, to not know a single person in the room that I'm entering.

It seems crazy, I know. That's what's so lovely about me--I'm not always a foregone conclusion.

The other reason, arrogance, is a tougher one to overcome.

I was told in high school (and have been told by other people on several occasions) that I am an excellent writer. I'm not going to argue. I think I am a great writer and I don't mean that in a rude way. I think I've been given a great talent. I do my best to be a good steward of the talent. Blogging is a way I try to cultivate my talent. It's great because I don't have a lot of pretense when I blog. It ends up being close to a stream-of-consciousness. I rarely edit what I'm writing, I do my best to practice honesty and I have a lot of fun seeing how far my posts travel around the world.

I've been a lone wolf for far too long, though. I am still working on a novel (though not as much as I would like) and I will eventually need input and editing from other writers. I typically am snobbish when it comes to deciding whose input is important. It's a very short list and it's mostly the people I know from high school. The problem is that none of them has stayed frozen in high school mode. They have moved on and formed other communities.

It's up to me to do the same. So I am at my parents' house, but I am headed to the library soon. There is a poetry contest being sponsored by the Crystal Lake Public Library. They sponsor it every year--this is the first year that I will be participating.

I am terrified. I have to walk into a room full of strangers. I have debated skipping the kick-off all together, but there is a part of me that wants to size up the competition. (Thanks, arrogance! I see what you did there.) I am hoping that this can be a baby step toward finding and building a new community with writers. The point is that I have to be *with* them in order for that to happen.

I am not sure what my poem will be about. I'd like to think I have a good chance of winning, but then who knows how the judges will feel about what I write.

My fear is trying to convince me to stay here, with a puppy on my arm, listening to the Juno soundtrack. I am more comfortable here but nothing great ever started with, "so I was sitting at my computer one day...."

So I've got to do this. I've got to suck it up. I've got to take the next right action and then the one after that, until I've gotten to a place where I'm squirming a little bit. That's where you'll find me, in case you want to look.

Wish me luck.

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

I struggled with how to write about this topic without referencing the source material. My Facebook feed has blown up over the past week about a movie that was released last Friday. It's based on a novel that was a bestseller. It depicts a relationship that is based on BDSM.

I don't want to type the title and I am hoping that my readers will know to what work of fiction I am referring. It was pointed out, in one of the numerous posts, that any press is good press. I don't want to contribute to the press because I don't think it deserves it.

So here's the thing. I know this work of fiction has had numerous posts, articles, reviews, etc., penned about it. I've not read it (though I did read an excerpt of it and really, I suffered through the paragraph that I read), though I've read part of a detailed analysis of it. My plan is really not to talk about the book, since that would be disingenuous.

Instead, I'm going to share some thoughts on love. I won't claim originality about them because mostly there's no originality when it comes to love. Volumes have been written about the subject over the past two thousand years. Men and women better than I have spent years talking and writing about it. I am going to share a little of my own thoughts, or really my thoughts on the thoughts that are out there.

This is one of the times I wish I was more fluent in other languages. I feel like the English language falls far short when it comes to discussing love. In Greek, French and Spanish (just to name a few), there are multiple words for love and each has a different connotation. In English, we use the word love but it covers all manner of love--romantic love, familial love, love between friends, love of our pets, etc. I feel like that's not fair to the word, to make it work so hard and wear so many hats.

I grew up on a diet of romantic comedies. I was a bit young for John Hughes' creations, though I've watched most of them. If there was a chick flick released between the years of 1988 and 2000, chances are I saw it. I really enjoyed some of them (Sabrina, Say Anything, Sixteen Candles, Jerry Maguire, Never Been Kissed), despised some (Titanic, Bridges of Madison County) and tolerated others (She's All That, Can't Hardly Wait).

Here's what I will say about how movies treat love. They usually don't do it well. Movies are usually short on character development and long on fantasy. I learned, from watching the movies, that teenage boys are really just misunderstood. Go for a nerd, for the quiet guy, he's gonna be the one who will "get" you, who will know how to woo and romance you.

The reality is that teenage boys are really not that evolved. Yes, there are some that are more sensitive or thoughtful, but by and large teenage boys still find fart jokes funny. Those are not the people to be trusted to make huge romantic gestures.

I'm not being hard on teenage boys, necessarily, I'm also being hard on teenage girls. For every girl that, like me, binges on these movies, we develop standards to which no one can measure. It's unfair to teenage girls and boys. It's really unfair to humans in general. There's a lot of smoke and mirrors in movies.

Let's face it, though, reality is not always a fantastic place to live. I'm not saying we shouldn't indulge in chick flicks or romantic comedies or movies in general. I think that there is a place in our lives for sitting in a movie theater and entering an alternate reality for two hours. Movies can change the way we look at ourselves, our situations, our lives. Movies are fun, are cheap stress relief, are (for me, at least) a vital part of who we are.

Literature is not always better in terms of how it treats love. It can create just as many false and unrealistic expectations. I have never been someone to read trashy romance novels. I actually detest most literature that can be classified as love stories or romance. I prefer action, classic literature and detective novels. I make exceptions sometimes, but usually I will choose a book about murder and mystery rather than one about love.

I'm not sure when I made the switch, from preferring "chick" literature and films to grittier and (more realistic) movies and books. In fairness, even my current choices are not based in reality. I am still finding escape in what I digest with my eyes, but now I prefer that my escapes be based in more reality, that they are grittier and dirtier, and that romance be a secondary plot line.

The things that I saw on the big screen and the things I read made it next to impossible for me to fall in love with a real, live, red-blooded human man. Really. There was no way that anything I found in real life was going to be like what I found on the page or screen. Who would want to date a human man who farts and belches over Lloyd Dobbler, for example, who stands outside my window and plays Peter Gabriel? I mean, come on! Given the choice, it would be Lloyd every time.

Yes, movie men make mistakes (forgive the alliteration). They mess up, they miss cues, they pick the wrong girl. The thing is, within a couple of hours, they come to their senses and make a huge romantic gesture. Obviously, I don't want to have to wait longer than two hours for a human man to come to his senses. I want the long speeches, the thoughtful cards, etc. I don't want to have to deal with someone who refuses to put his dishes in the dishwasher.

I mean, really.

This is why our language falls so short. These movies talk about love but they are really dealing with infatuation. There are more movies now about married love (Crazy. Stupid. Love., This is 40 come to mind), about how tough it is to make space for love when life is crazy. Mostly, though, movies are talking about infatuation. They are talking about the beginning of a relationship, when it's perfectly acceptable to stay up talking on the phone until 4 AM every night for a week. If I did that now, I would probably die from sleep deprivation. They are about wooing, when a couple is figuring each other out and hiding most of their more glaring character defects from one another.

Couples can't live in that phase, though. They just can't. It's unrealistic. You're eventually going to have to fart in front of your partner. You're going to have to eat messy food in front of them, have a runny nose, cough up brown stuff, wake up next to them and not have a chance to brush your teeth. That's going to happen, it just is.

Now. I am not saying that we all lower our standards to zero to accommodate the lunkhead real-life men out there. We should have standards, men and women alike. Men really are clods, to use a word my eighth-grade English teacher loved to use. That's really how they were made. Some actually are clued in to how to woo and romance but more often than not, they need to be coached on that. It's not that they don't care--it's that they didn't grow up on the same diet of movies we did. We need to have realistic (based in reality) expectations of the person for whom we are looking and the person with whom we want to spend our lives.

There is a huge disconnect and while I'm not blaming Hollywood, I'm saying Hollywood played a part. I played a part, too. Parents who let their kids watch these movies play a part. I'm not absolving anyone of their personal responsibility. I know Hollywood is vilified for what they put out, but that's not really fair to them.

And here's the thing. This latest movie, the one that some have called "soft-core porn for women," wouldn't have been made without women buying the book in bulk. Hollywood didn't make the movie in a vacuum. They would never have made the movie if they thought it wouldn't make money. That's just not how they operate. So yes, Hollywood produced and released a film about BDSM, but only because there was a demand for it.

I find that really unfortunate. I don't think it's an original love story--there are whole websites dedicated to this practice, honestly. The writing, in my opinion, is piss poor. It's drivel. There is no depth to the characters (something I can forgive in movies but absolutely not in a novel). The plot makes no sense. It's garbage! I'm actually kind of pissed off that so many women would be willing to read garbage. I am all for a novel about love and romance, don't get me wrong. I just can't subject myself to a poorly-written novel.

For example, I read Patricia Cornwell novels for a few years. I enjoyed her main character, Kay Scarpetta. I found her intelligent and human and thought she had great depth. I didn't care for all of the novels equally, but I enjoyed most of them. Then, shee released a novel called Blowfly. I read one page, put the book down and have never read another of her novels. I just didn't like how it was written. I am not going to subject myself to something that's not worth my time, even if it fits into a genre I enjoy.

I hate to judge a whole class of women. I am pretty evolved when it comes to women's issues. I think women need to be empowered. I think women should be paid equally. I think women should always have choices. I have a good number of close women friends, some of whom chose to read this book. I love those friends and all women in general. I am disappointed sometimes in what people choose as entertainment (I also loathed the Twilight series), but heck, we have all made poor decisions, right?

I know people will probably be offended in reading this. Please know that the beauty of living in the United States is that we are all allowed our opinions. If any of my readers chose to experience the book and the movie, congratulations! You have exercised your right to free speech and I will always applaud that.

There are, however, larger issues addressed in this particular novel that have a lot of women up in arms. I feel like that could fill a whole other blog post. I have learned more and more about human trafficking in recent years. I am sickened the more that I learn, because I hate thinking about the millions of women around the world who are not given choices. They are kidnapped and systematically raped and tortured to satiate the demands of men who devalue them.

This book doesn't talk about human trafficking, but I think it does touch the issue tangentially. From what I understand, the main female character is a virgin before connecting with the main male character. She engages in BDSM to please the male character, who, incidentally, stalks and dominates her. Again, all women should have choices about how they practice love with partners of their choice.

That being said, I think the book serves to desensitize rather than empower women. If millions of women are reading a book about another woman engaging in BDSM in an attempt to placate and ultimately heal/fix a man, I think it is dangerous. It can send the message that this is always the case. My husband/boyfriend is goading me to try this? Well, maybe engaging in this behavior will stop them from terrorizing/stalking/brutalizing me.

Yes, as educated women we can separate fiction from reality. We can read it and say, "hmmm, that was a good escape." For women who don't have good role models in their lives, though, this book can do nothing but further erode their idea of appropriate sexual relations. I think it's similar to the movie Pretty Woman. In the movie, Julia Roberts is a prostitute. We never find out why or how she became a prostitute, but we are lead to believe she chose the lifestyle (most women don't). Then, she decides to go home with Richard Gere. In a week, she woos Mr. Gere and ends up being rescued from the life by him. (This is of course after she is sexually assaulted by Jason Alexander.)

Maybe that plot line has happened in real life. Maybe most people can watch that movie and realize, "hey, that was a good way to escape life for a couple of hours, but it's not based in reality." The problem is that it desensitizes us to the bigger issue, that prostitution is not usually a choice, it's not at all glamorous and it's a billion dollar industry that is growing every year. It sends the wrong message to broken women who are looking for someone to love them.

Like I said, read the book, don't read the book. See the movie, don't see the movie. We live in a country where we are all, men and women alike, allowed to make choices like that. Enjoy that freedom. All I ask is that you spend some time researching how to help trafficked women. Have conversations with your daughters about real love, not love found in books or movies. Think about whether you'd be okay with your daughters reading this novel when they grow up. Think about whether your sons should read a book like this.

As for me, I'm currently nursing an infatuation for broad-shouldered Englishmen. I will be going to see Kingsmen, starring Colin Firth, later this week. I'm looking forward to hearing his beautiful voice recite lines, to seeing him kick some butt, and then coming home to my husband, who burps and farts and usually falls asleep on the couch. I'm a firm believer in having my head in the clouds and feet on the ground.

P.S., I could also spend a whole blog post decrying Nicholas Sparks or the recent new genre of movies made about love and tailor-made for Christians. I also can't stand any of that. I love my husband. We went to one marriage retreat. We will not be going back, like ever. We giggled through the whole thing and have never once practiced anything we learned that weekend. (We also strained our eyes because we rolled them so much at each other.) I hate cheese, be it Christian or secular. I don't like Kirk Cameron at all and don't want to seem him act poorly in a movie. So rest assured, I am an equal opportunity critic. That is all.

I am the Tortoise

I started this blog almost three years ago. One of my first entries was about my journey to bariatric surgery. At the time, I weighed close to 300 pounds, felt lethargic and miserable, my clothes were all ill-fitting and I didn't care for myself very much. (XXXL t-shirts were just a bit big on me. By comparison, I am now swimming in XXXL, XXL is blousy on my and XL is within reaching distance.)

I considered bariatric surgery because I was told, by the surgeon, that people who were as overweight as I was were not capable of losing the weight on their own. I am impatient by nature, so there's that piece of it, but I also respected this man's opinion. I was feeling very low and really didn't believe that I was going to be able to shed a significant amount of weight. I felt like I had tried to do everything I could and it wasn't seeming to make much of a difference.

I checked with my insurance company at the time and they would not cover the surgery at all. I was devastated and felt so defeated. I was positive I was going to spend the rest of my life weighing close to 300 pounds.

I am not sure what made me decide to set aside what this doctor had said and really start making changes. In any case, I have lost about 60 pounds (about half of what I'd like to lose) in the past two and a half years. I have shaved minutes off of my mile per hour pace. I have gotten stronger, started to be weaned off medication, have lost body fat and inches and gone down by about 3-4 sizes.

It has been an arduous journey. It has not looked the way I wanted it to look. I have had to work harder than I thought I would have to work. One of the reasons it is taking so long, in my opinion, is that I have refused to adopt any revolutionary eating guidelines.

I quit drinking Diet Coke about 8 months after I started the blog. Last year, I switched from a plan of eating dessert every night to a plan of eating dessert twice a week. I used to do an hour of cardio at least 5-6 times a week. Now I do cardio 2-3 times a week (for about the same amount of time) and do strength training (with a trainer) 2 times a week. I used to weigh myself every week. Now I weigh myself every six weeks, under the watchful eyes of my trainer. She also takes my measurements every six weeks.

It's not been a straight path of weight loss, either. I have lost 60 pounds but there were periods of time where I gained a pound or two. I stopped weighing myself every week because it was causing a lot of emotional and mental turmoil.

I have been approached by a number of people offering to sell me nutritional supplements. All of these people are well-intentioned. They want to see me be successful, to lose the weight, to get healthier. Owing to my continued financial distress, I've not had the capability to purchase any of them. This has been tough because I want to see more results more quickly.

This last Saturday a friend of mine and I went clothes shopping. It has been a while since I have gone shopping for myself. I picked a doozy of a day to visit my favorite store, My Best Friend's Closet, a consignment shop in Algonquin. They were having a huge sale and the place was packed. Typically, I like to visit the store in the evening when there are few people there. It gives me an opportunity to browse at my own pace, have plenty of room to look around and spares me the shame of having to ask strangers for their opinion on my outfits.

I went into the trip hoping that I would have dropped another pants size. I am currently an 18 (I was a 22+ at the advent of this blog). Dropping to size 16 would mean I could start shopping at "normal" clothing stores, not stores like Lane Bryant and Catherine's. This would have meant a huge boost in confidence for me.

Alas, the problem is that I carry a lot of my weight in my midsection. It's almost always been the case. I know that it's a dangerous place to carry the weight. As Leslie Sansone says, the fat around our midsection is called visceral fat. It causes the organs to have to work harder and is a stressor on the body in general.

I am starting to see some definition in my midsection, thanks to my trainer and a lot of hard work. I know that I am headed in the right direction. I know that it's not a race (thank God, cause honestly, I hate to lose).

I hate to complain about my lack of progress cause that's not really it. I know that forward progress, however incremental, is still progress. I think I get frustrated because I had hoped I would be further along at this point in time. I know that I am laying a foundation that will hopefully prevent me from gaining this weight back. I have no desire to take this journey on again. I am teaching my kids important lessons about persistence, eating healthy, moving our bodies in a healthful way and making good choices.

All of this is good. I know I look drastically better than I did almost three years ago. I haven't picked Diet Coke back up again. (The funny thing is that I'm remembering that I had a dream just the other night where I was drinking Diet Coke.) I haven't gone down a size but I've also not gone up a size. I've saved a lot of money by not getting involved in any of these nutritional supplements. I've changed how our family eats. This is the first year (starting last summer) where we have eaten more fresh veggies than frozen. Frozen veggies are not bad, but fresh is almost always better.

I know that I have a long way to go and I am working at making some small shifts in how I eat. I am using My Fitness Pal pretty regularly, but I've realized lately that I'm not counting absolutely every calorie that I'm eating. At the same time, I've seen drastic changes over what I am eating. About 5 months ago, I had banana bread for the first time in a couple of years. I started to enter this into My Fitness Pal and realized that the last time I ate it, I had eaten 10 slices! 10! This time, I only ate 2 slices. Again, progress.

A couple of days ago I had to run out to get even more saltines for my stomach-flu infested family. I ended up getting an iced coffee and two sausage McMuffins from McDs. Not great choices, I realize, but keep in mind that I used to regularly consume 4 sausage biscuits in one sitting. (Progress, people.) What's more, I resisted the temptation to buy donuts and/or other sweets (something I felt completely justified in purchasing because of the prolonged stress I've been under at home.

I am not a saint by any stretch. I am not making perfect choices every day. I know, therefore, that I shouldn't be expecting perfect results every time I get on the scale or look in the mirror. The shifts I'm making in my current eating plan will hopefully positively impact both the numbers on the scale and my overall health.

I just saw my doctor not too long ago (not the surgeon I had seen a few years ago but my general practitioner) and he also suggested the bariatric surgery. It was a bit disheartening but a conversation with my trainer encouraged me not to put too much stock in what he said. I know that I'm doing the right things and that slow and steady wins the race.

Just ask the tortoise.

The Epiphany in the Illness

I had an epiphany today. I do not use that word lightly. I mean to say I had an insight today that was beyond what I'm normally capable of understanding. It happened after I took Doug, my youngest, to the doctor. 

Let me set the scene. 

My entire family had the stomach flu over the past couple of weeks. We seem to get the stomach flu around the same time of year. (Thanks, Timehop, for helping me map that accurately.)

Bekah fell victim first and had it the worst. The morning she ended up in the ER, Doug got sick for the first time. After I left for the hospital, I tried to have Brian keep me updated about Doug. By Wednesday, it seemed like he was done with it. Thursday dawned and Brian started with the stomach flu. Doug must've been sick on Wednesday because I didn't send him to school on Thursday. Thursday night Jeremy started with the flu. 

I lost track of things from then because both Brian and Jeremy were sick and all I was doing was cleaning up vomit and taking care of all the things. 

Doug seemed fine by Saturday because I took him to my parents' house. Sunday morning, he threw up and had diarrhea. Monday he was fine. Tuesday he was mostly fine. Wednesday morning he woke up with vomit and diarrhea, then threw up yesterday afternoon. This morning, a morning I had anticipated for a long time, he woke up again with vomit and diarrhea. 

Sorry for the graphic description. I am just trying to establish that his illness was intermittent. It seemed to be different from the thing that afflicted the rest of the family. I was afraid his reflux was back. 

Today, I took him to the doctor. I had had enough. The laundry has been insurmountable. The smells have been obnoxious. I just couldn't take it. 

The doctor confirmed that he is fighting the same bug. She told me that it's been so prolonged because his diet has been keeping his intenstines irritated. We needed to restrict his food intake to let everything calm down. 

Now, this made sense to me. The juice (watered down) that Doug has been drinking, the chicken nuggets (Kirkland, baked in the oven), the peanut butter, etc., all of it was causing him to suffer longer. 

The problem is that I am 36. I have advanced reasoning abilities and some amount of logic. 

My 3-year-old lacks all of those skills. 

He told me, quite plaintively, "I still hungry. I want chicken nuggets." It was heartbreaking, because I couldn't give him what he wanted, things that aren't inherently bad, because they weren't good for him at the moment. I wasn't telling him he could never have these things. I was saying, "these things will hurt you if you have them now. I know you want them and I want to give them to you, but if I do that I will be causing you more pain and suffering."

There was the epiphany. 

See, I have been asking God for things quite plaintively for some time. Things that aren't inherently bad, like a new and better job for my husband (for example). 

God's sense of logic and reasoning is probably like mine compared to my 3-year-olds. Far advanced and beyond my understanding. I heard him today, saying, "Sue, I know you want these things. I know they seem like good things. If I give them to you now, they will hurt you. I have to wait until the time is right to give them to you." (I don't know that the things would hurt me per Se, but I hope I'm conveying the gist; that the right gifts at the wrong time would not benefit me correctly.)

If I were anyone else, I would say that the message was well-received in a mature manner. I would say, "oh, yes, Lord, now I get it. I'm totally fine with waiting because I see you've got a whole thing going."

The truth is I had a 3-year-old-sized tantrum. I vented to my husband that I didn't understand why we kept having to deal with this stuff, with this illness, with these difficulties. (As an aside, I was also frustrated because in the course of the chaotic morning I left my Costco card at home and had to take more time to get home and I hadn't eaten all morning.)

I am grateful for the insight, though. It doesn't make me happier to wait necessarily, but it is something I would had missed had it not been for crappy circumstances (literally). 

My hope is that Doug's illness clears up in the next day or so. I postponed Bekah's birthday party to shield her guests from this thing. I am hoping that once it's done with Doug, it's done for good. Then I can say goodbye to it for the next 345 or so days. Until then...