Walking in Water

Ever since I was a little girl, I've loved the feeling of being in the water. A swimming pool, the bathtub, the ocean (though I'd never actually submersed myself until just recently at the Tel Aviv Beach) or even puddles in the rain; I've always loved it all. I love the freedom my body has in the water; the soft, gentle support as I glide or float or swim paired with the sheer force of a body so much bigger than mine that envelopes me completely. I remember being a little girl and pretending that I was a ballerina in the water, just twirling and watching the water ripple around me. No matter what strange things my body might have been doing while I was in there, I felt graceful and elegant, like the prettiest ballerina in the company. Even now, my first step into a swimming pool reminds me of those days, and every once in awhile, I allow myself to whirl and twirl just as I did then. And I am reminded of the parts of my childhood I want to remember, the parts I want to tell my children about.

Since I've been home and working for the JCC Camps, I've been taking advantage of my free employee membership. Until camp ends on August 1, I have access to the health club and all of the swimming pools the J has to offer. It's very exciting for me, and one of the reasons I took the job in the first place--2 months of singing w/ preschoolers all morning followed by a good 45-minute workout in the pool. I take my place in the inside warm-water therapy pool, in one of the lanes designated for water-walking, and have at it. I start with an easy warm up of plain water-walking that lasts about 10 minutes, and then I run in the water for about 25 minutes. I love the feel of my muscles as they push through the water, working hard and gaining strength and flexibility. I love that my heart rate increases yet I'm not uncomfortable and out of breath and sweaty and gross. I love that the little old ladies stare at me as though I am a lunatic. I love that I can push myself through the water and feel an amazing mix of power, grace, and intensity. I love that I let my mind think of whatever it wants to, and that it has become an almost prayerful time in my day. And mostly, I love the feeling of empowerment, of knowing that I can do whatever the hell I put my mind to, even when the rest of the world wouldn't necessarily agree or think so. When I'm done with my 'run', I walk gently for another 15 or so minutes, congratulating myself on a job well done and pushing myself to just go another few minutes. Even an easy pace is better than no pace at all.

It continues to amaze me when I realize these little things in life that make me so happy that I never thought of before.

My eyes, my heart, my soul are opened.

One Step at a Time

Living in America is going to be harder than I thought.

There is temptation all around. Gone are the delicious fruits and veggies that once dominated my kitchen. Yesterday's trip to my favorite farmers market proved somewhat disappointing, especially because things aren't quite in season yet due to the rains STL has had this spring. My brother introduced me to his WW points calculator, which has only succeeded in making me feel guilty about the things I thought were okay to be eating. Many of my favorite STL treats are now off limits, which only depresses me and makes me long for Israel.

I've been in STL for exactly 24 hours now, and already I am getting myself into trouble.

On Tuesday, after the holiday weekend, I am going to call WW and get myself into meetings again. I also want to call my therapist, who specializes in Jewish meditation and healing (which, I should add, I thought was complete bullshit the entire 6 months I saw her before I left for Israel--I am happy to say my eyes have since been opened.) I am going to need all the help and support I can get in the next 2 1/2 months. I am happily open to meditation and positive affirmations and anything else she can offer me.

On the positive, I went through my closet last night and pulled out the pieces I wore in college when I was this size, happily pairing some of them with my newer clothes to create new and fun outfits. Twas great fun. I also found a bunch of clothes I wore in high school, when I was at my biggest and most miserable. Aside from one pair of ugly jeans I want to keep to remind myself of where I've been, all of those clothes are now FINALLY in a pile to give to Goodwill.

How do I mix my new, healthy lifestyle with the lifestyle I am used to living here? This is my new challenge, one I am a little afraid to take on. But I can not--I will not--fail. I will climb this mountain the same way I climbed up the mountains in the Negev; one step at a time.

Goodbye, old life. Hello, new and improved life.

At least I hope.

Monday Night Report #6

Down 1 kilo 600 grams this week! That takes off the 1.2 kilos I gained last week and then some! I'm happy about this, and I knew it would happen, and it was the best way to end my Israeli Weight Watchers career.

Menucha, our group leader, said a special goodbye to me at the beginning of our last meeting. The whole group clapped and cheered and hollered about my successes, and begged me to send pictures and stories about where I'm going from here. I opened my arms to big hugs and thanked everyone a million times for their love and support the last 10 months. They are an amazing group of people, I group that I have bonded with and will miss very much once I leave on Friday morning.

Menucha also asked me to say a few words about my journey. I shared how important it is to believe in yourself, to envision what you want from yourself and your life and work to get there. I also thanked the group for their sweet comments and our lovely conversations, without which I might not have always had the strength to keep coming back.

And so I remind you, whether you're fat, thin, or perfectly normal, that if you want something in life and believe in it 100% you CAN get there. I know it sounds hokey, but the only way you'll get anywhere is to constantly envision yourself there and constantly work like hell to make it happen. I'm living proof of that. And I will remind myself of that from this point forward.

73.9 lbs--slowly, slowly, it's happening.

A 10-Sentence Bitch Session

Stressed out with finals and papers and packing. Want to eat everything in sight. Resisting thus far, but getting pretty damn sick of it.

These are the times when it's hardest, when I need to tell myself it's worth it to persevere. But it's pretty fucking hard, and right now, I'm pretty ready to quit and throw it all out the window.

But I won't. At least not today.

And as good as I know this program is for me, I'm pretty fucking over it and pissed off right now.

I'm still learning how to control my food instead of letting my food control me.

Will it ever be that way?

Some Things to Share

The first is an email that my good friend Gal sent me this morning--thank you, Gal, for thinking of me and for your sweet words and kind actions.

The second is a morning prayer written by Rabbi Naomi Levy in her book Talking to God.

"Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly." -Langston Hughes

The most tragic figure is the man or woman who has given up and acquiesced to the pressures of modern life. For him or her, life is monotonous and meaningless. Don't be one of these tragic figures! Not only should you recognize your dreams, but you should revel in them. Dreams are what differentiate us and make us uniquely human. What gives you real joy? What makes you smile and laugh out loud? What holds your attention so that hours seem to disappear? Your dream is ultimately the basis for your motivation. Hold fast to your dream then permit yourself to take flight.

A Morning Prayer

There are so many things I take for granted. May I not ignore them today.

Just for today, help me, God, to remember that my life is a gift, that my health is a blessing, that this new day is filled with awesome potential, that I have the capacity to bring something wholly new and unique and good into this world.

Just for today, help me, God, to remember to be kind and patient to the people who love me, and to those who work with me too. Teach me to see all the beauty that I so often ignore, and to listen to the silent longing of my own soul.

Just for today, help me, God, to remember You. Let this be a good day, God, full of joy and love.

Amen.

Monday Night Report

So last night went exactly as I predicted--I went up 1 kilo 200 grams, gaining weight for the first time in my WW career. I'm surprisingly okay about it; I expected tears and mild hysteria upon hearing the news, but instead I simply said to myself "Next week will be better" and stepped off the scale with my grace and dignity in tact. Those words in and of themselves are a huge measure of my personal growth throughout the past 11 months. I realized last night that I am slowly learning to forgive myself, to treat myself like the gentle soul I am, to allow myself to make mistakes and not be afraid of failure. So, while I'm not happy about gaining weight, I am thrilled to pieces to have discovered a piece of myself I thought was missing entirely.

I really think Gd does some (though not all) things for a reason. Gd gives us certain experiences to teach us lessons about our strength and character and to point out things about ourselves we never knew existed. For me, the power of self-forgiveness and acceptance is something I've been searching for for a very long time; maybe Gd helped the numbers to go up to show me that it was already inside me, even if I don't know when or how it was put there. I understand now, in a different way, why Dave liked to intertwine prayer and spirituality into his workout routine. It really does all link together, and last night proved to me that Gd is on my side--here, now, and always.

Despite honest effots, it's taken me a long time to want to exercise again after Dave and his beautiful family had to leave Israel. I think that once finals are over and I am home and have a minute to breathe and reflect, I want to start up my routine again. I want to swim in my neighborhood pool and walk my dog, dance in my bedroom and actually go back to the floor exercises Dave so gently and accurately shared with me.

It's amazing how gaining weight can be just as inspirational and motivating as losing weight can be. That said, I have no plans to gain again next week, or make it a habit. But once in awhile, we all need a message from above to keep us going, and if the numbers on the scale are my message, I am open and ready to receive.

ברוך אתה ה' אשר בידו נפש כל חי ורוח כל בשר איש
Blessed are you Adonai, in whose hands is every living soul and the breath of humankind.

Dammit

What does a person with a normal, healthy weight do when they know they've had a bad diet week? When they know they've eaten way too much, exercised way too little, and have basically given up on the idea of healthy diet and lifestyle. Do they feel guilty, disappointed, terrible about themselves? Or do they just not care and know that life goes on, not caring about the calories or the consequences that eating those calories might have on the scale on Monday night?

This past week was a series of Israeli holidays ending with Yom Ha'atzmaut, Israeli Independence Day. It's been an emotional week, with a lot of tears and mourning and finally, celebration.

And I celebrated. Oh how I celebrated. Bags upon bags of potato chips at a BBQ, bites of quiches and cookies at a professor's party, an entire plate full of Mexican food after a day of doing nothing at the beach. I don't know what I was thinking, but I know that the phrase "Fuck this Weight Watchers thing" entered my mind more than once while I was overindulging.

And now I'm regretting it. Regretting the lack of self-control I demonstrated and the fact that I basically destroyed over a week of eating really, really healthfully.

I don't know if there will ever be a time where I can enjoy eating without feeling guilty over every bite. I think my grandpa basically ruined that for me when I was growing up. I'm sitting here, taking a break from my paper on Naomi Shemer, eating a plate of vegetable salad with balsamic vinegar and a drizzle (and I mean a drizzle) of olive oil, and I feel guilty about it because I ate a huge Shabbat lunch and will order something later for dinner. This guilt is sick and I am sick of it. I just want a normal relationship with food, though I have no idea what a "normal" relationship with food really is or how to achieve it. It's so depressing.

And I have to face the scale on Monday night--for the first time, I will probably hear the words, "You went up." And I will cry as if it were the most terrible thing in the world, which is ridiculous for so many reasons, especially because it really ISN'T the most terrible thing in the world--I know that better than anyone. There are certainly worse things than gaining a kilo, worse things than being fat, worse things than disappointing yourself in this small way.

Thank Gd I am going back to therapy when I get back to the States in 2 weeks.

Seriously though, tell me what normal people do when they eat badly--maybe if I start considering myself as normal, I can start thinking like a normal person.

Sickie

For the last week, I've been on the sore-throat-bad-cold-pinkeye-only-eating-what-my-body-is-
craving-because-that-is-what-it-obviously-needs diet.

A whole week of chicken soup, flavored herbal teas, sushi (strange craving while sick?) grapefruit juice, scrambled eggs and not much else.

I've also been craving protein a lot; chicken, eggs, tuna, nuts, etc. Weird.

It's getting to the point where I am feeling more and more pitiful when it comes to my illness. For over a week, I haven't been able to sing normally, pay attention in class, eat normal food, do a lot of the tons of work I have to do, or enjoy my last few weeks of the gorgeous Jerusalem springtime. All I want to do is curl up in bed with a good book or movie and sip tea as I take my over-the-counter drugs and pray for a r'fua sh'lema, a complete healing, to come upon me very soon.

Very rarely do I get sick like this; I'm the kind of sickie who keeps going, trying desperately not to succumb to her illness in order to live life as normal. It's hard, especially at points in the semester where there is more work to do than time to do it (like right now) to allow myself to take the time to stop, to heal, to rest. I feel as though I need to keep going and get everything on my list accomplished, despite what might be going on inside that is screaming at me to stop.

And sometimes, when I'm at my most pitiful, all I really want is someone who will take care of me. Someone who will bring me tea and sit with me and tell me that I'll be all better before too long. It sounds so cheesy, even for me, but it's times like this when I feel the most alone. I'm reminded that I only have myself to take care of myself, despite all the others around me who, if I could just ask, would be happy to help me. It's funny to me how I have seen, through losing weight this year, how supportive and helpful people are. And yet when it comes to asking for help in other areas of my life, it's so difficult for me to do--there's still such a part of me that needs to prove to everyone that I can do everything on my own, without help or support from anyone. Just like my dad--and his life is nothing to be especially proud of.

What does it take to open yourself up enough to ask for help, and to receive it happily, without feeling childish or incapable of helping yourself?