seemingly innocent things — a drink, a smoke, a purchase, food, even exercise can become
urgent
need.
In the time that it takes to feel a flash of happiness, sadness or regret;
less than 60 seconds of my life
and I remember,
I am an addict. How could I have forgotten?
Today I must ask what brought this on?
For tomorrow I must fill the need
with OTHER.
As for yesterday, I can only look back and remember
I am an addict, but I am stronger than my need.
And as for this moment — I know I am an addict;
I am. I was. I always will be, always will be
an addict.
ADDICT written april 9, 2009 by melody harrison hanson
Those that have no background in addiction look at the word ADDICT and the word alcoholic as kind of wicked and weak. Face it, our culture doesn’t understand. But if you’ve been there, if you live there, if you love someone who does or has you know exactly what I mean. And I thank you for understanding.
My lovely husband. I am so proud of him. Although his ‘day job’ is wonderful and he’s an amazing leader of his organization, I know that his passion is his music which does in his off hours. Last year he completed his 2nd album, ironically titled Everything Takes Forever, a five year project?! It’s a beautiful CD.
He just received word that one of his songs—“Even So” from his 2nd CD Everything Takes Forever will be used on the CBS prime time show, Ghost Whisperer, tonight Friday (2/13/09, 8:00 PM ET; 7:00 PM CT) If you’d like, check it out.
The whole idea of blogging about diet and exercise is such a pedestrian stereotype. But be warned, this is a journal about a personal transformation. No, even better, my personal body revolution! No blood will be shed, but change is occurring! And if, by following along, it is meaningful to others, that’s a reward too. I won’t be preposterous and say it with help someone. But I know MANY people struggle with “issues” of weight loss or gain, disordered eating and body hatred, so that’s why I make this journal public. It will be about mastering my body and life.
A week ago Sunday I began to use our treadmill for a long walking workout. Every day, I walk for at least an hour, because this gives my body a “wake up” time and then once it (my body) is fully awake and functional, I give it a good hard sweat. Doing this, I am able to burn from 500-750 calories in about an hour. And I feel great afterwords. I drink about 32 oz. of water during and after the workout and am feeling really good. I know I just said that, but it bears repeating! This type of workout makes me feel really, really good.
When I quit drinking in July, 08 my weight was up to 169, which is the very highestmy weight has ever been when not pregnant or recovering from pregnancy. I’ve always said I will never ‘get fat’ I am not certain that I have the willpower to take it off. As members of my family have struggled with their weight for years, the yo-yo of a life of dieting was something I feared. I do not want that!! I’m afraid of that eventuality. An yet, here I am at 42 and 168 or so pounds, and the scale and my BMI tell me I am over-weight at 5’6″. As I said, I thought when I quit drinking that the weight would drop off, but I guess that my body had adjusted and was comfortable with it. This puts me at a size 14 and uncomfortable. For about a half a year I have been in MAJOR denial about this weight gain. But you can’t deny it forever and hitting 170 would be it for me. There’s no denying it.
Since giving birth to three kids in 1997, 1999 and 1991, I carried about ten pounds for each child. In 1992 I tried the first diet of my life more out of a desire to be supportive to Tom. I can actually say that South Beach diet works and I lost 17 pounds in about two months. I was a beautiful size ten and I have to say that I felt fantastic. I wasn’t working out at all and people told me I looked “unhealthy.” But for the first time in years the heavy, bloated, thick-waisted feeling was gone.
So now, in my closets I have my skinny clothes (did I just say my skinny clothes? Ew!) (9-10s), my medium clothes (11-12s), and my heavy clothes (solid 14).
All this rambling brings me to today. As already mentioned, a week ago Sunday I started working out and watching my calories. Tom’s the kind of dieter that counts calories, tallying in his mind all day long. When he gets to his limit he stops eating. For me, counting calories doesn’t work. I can’t remember the value of everything and after about three or four days of writing everything down on scrap pieces of paper in the kitchen, I want to scream and stop writing things down. But with eating through out the day and then a workout to subtract and have no idea where I am.
During the first week, I fluctuated up and down, but couldn’t break the 165 barrier. Frustrated and confused, I kept limiting calories and exercising every day, and drinking lots of water…. Yesterday, finally, after two weeks, I weighed in at 165. Today it is 166 again.
OH, just to be clear: My commitment is daily exercise and I’m going to apply Phase I of the South Beach Diet. The South Beach is perfect for me. It’s simple, healthy, and kicks my body into turbo calorie burning. I need the immediate results. I can’t wait to see what happens next although today I’m frustrated to not see results yet. To be sure, it didn’t help to eat some birthday cake last night. Strictly speaking I broke all the rules, but, I’m back on the plan today. Cheese and meat for breakfast. Lots of water. I woke up with a pick ax behind my eyeballs, which has been a reoccurring problem and Tom’s theory is I’m dehydrated.
More later on, the psychology of dieting and the South Beach program and why I like it.
This is worth re-posting (from April, 08 on my flickr account.)
Humbled. It isn’t often that I meet someone who I instinctively want to protect; to grab hold of and hold on tight. And take them home with me to keep them safe. Take them home to my warm house full of laughter and hugs, and a home cooked dinner at 6:00, with books, music and photographs, a warm cozy bed with a fluffy pillow and most importantly love.
I met that person today and he knows who he is. It seems overly dramatic to say I’ll never be the same, but I think that is true.
Perspective. My life with its ups and downs, even my struggles to heal my mental health, my life is good. I have shall we say ‘issues’ and I find it difficult to find balance, but my life has been a cake walk compared to so many people’s. And I am grateful.
I am loved unconditionally. I am accepted for who I am as a woman, a wife, a mother, a feminist, a person of faith, a white person, and a heterosexual. Oh sure, I didn’t exactly feel unconditionally loved by my parents, but I think in retrospect I was accepted, encouraged, and affirmed. I was safe (mostly.) Those things that are huge to a child. At a minimum, what every child deserves. But they deserve better than just food and shelter, they really do.
People need to be accepted. I am aware today how as you live and work around people you never know their challenges. They may not have the next meal, they may not have a place to live. They may not have anyone in their life that loves them unabashedly.
I keep thinking about how blind we can be. We need to care for those around us. Do we truly accept friends and family just as they are and not expect them to change for us or for any person or institution. I certainly don’t do this perfectly, but at least I am aware of my own propensity to want my kids to ‘be smart’ to ‘do better’ or ‘behave according to standards’ or ‘be x, y, or z.’ I’m aware of it and because of what I’ve been through, and because of people like the person I met today, I will continue to fight against that thing inside me that says ‘fit in,’ ‘don’t make choices that will alienate you from Society.’ Okay, I’m dancing around the issue of our children’s sexuality something we have no control over. Oh, I know there are debates about whether sexuality is nature or nurture, a choice or biological. I’m not having that conversation simply saying love each other damn it!.
Unconditionally loving others. It is a profoundly difficult way to live but so important.
Enough preaching.
A poem I wrote a while back about growing up NOT feeling loved.
It returned, again
The dream that continues to visit me
Night after night
Year after year,
Unbidden. Uninvited
Not unexpected, but unwelcome.
A dream that says
You are unwanted.
Question yourself.
Question love.
Doubt everything you know to be true.
Nothing is real.
A solitary thought that says
Night after night
In various, complicated dreams
You are Unlovely, unlovable.
The fragile peace that comes by day
Is broken during the dark hours of sleep.
I don’t know if it was being born outside the United States though I am not a citizen of Papua New Guinea (they don’t allow it.) Or being raised a global citizen by parents that knew what that meant and lived it but I have been privileged to be friends with people from all over the world. I don’t know if it is because my closest friends are non-white or are “mutts” like me which were raised as 3rd culture kids. I don’t know if it is because my family moved eight or nine times, before I finished high school. I don’t really know why, but I am not that proud of and I don’t get gushy about, being an “American” and most of the times in my life that I’ve been identified as American, it’s been embarrassing.
In that context, I just have to comment on how inspired I am by our President-elect, Obama — by his life, his choices, his rise to leadership, responsibility and authority, his civic care & commitment, his educational achievements, and his healthy family.
In one of his speeches recently, he said:
” In this country, we rise or fall as one nation, as one people. Let’s resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long ….
To those who would tear the world down: We will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security: We support you. And to all those who have wondered if America’s beacon still burns as bright: Tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity and unyielding hope ….
This is our moment. This is our time, to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth, that, out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope. And where we are met with cynicism and doubts and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes, we can.”
And so, I’m feeling a little proud to have a decent, intelligent President-elect that inspires and challenges me. And I suppose I’m caught up in that sense of hopefulness. That is why I highlight this YouTube song here on my blog. Because although I am not yet that proud to be an American, this song gives me hope! Even if it is a country song. Even if it uses that old language of the Christian faith: born again. It has nothing to do with that.
And believe it or not, I have signed the pledge on the Born Again website. I commit to sort out how I can do something to make my country, my community in Madison, a better place for the less fortunate, the widow, the orphan, the incarderated, the poor. This will take fortitude, commitment, deep thought and prayer.
If it is true I am my country’s keeper then we must commit ourselves to being active, involved and thoughtful citizens—a Born Again American? It sounds like an unlikely use of words, but I like it.
Will you share your voice. Declare your commitment. Perhaps sign the Pledge. Make your own video or add to the lyrics of the song and share it with the world!
And let me know what you decided to do! And I will do likewise.
Unlikely AM thoughts. I’m home with two sick kids, one whining, one enduring, and I am so frustrated with the whiner!!!! She’s refusing to take her antibiotics. Can kids do that? She’s so eleven. So I may have to end this suddenly!
About yesterdays entry: Thanks for all your emails. Wow. A rush of support and friendship which I am so grateful to receive. At times I feel kind of stupid for being so vulnerable and then I remind myself this is me. Though I don’t want this, it doesn’t mean I’m incompetent or undesirable or unlovable or unhirable (technically not a word, but you know what I mean) or unwhatever.
It’s just me, complicated, kind of a mess some days, but really okay so many others. And I’ve come to understand that perhaps my words can help; I know it helps me, but maybe it will also help someone else.
With two kids home sick at this point, I am marooned and thereby forced to get a few things done like take down the Christmas tree (no, it’s not down yet!) and balance the family budget (not done since before the holidays – yikes – and was keeping me awake last night) and sort out what to eat for dinner. Planning ahead helps with the “moods” and actually plowing us out from a big snowy dumping this AM helped a lot too. That fresh air and exercise was brilliant!
Today I am thinking and will get back to you later.
I was drawn this evening to some lyrics from a Simon & Garfunkel song. We have had an intense ice storm here over the last 24 hours – I fell twice today. And, you guessed it, we’re ‘slip sliding away.”
Funny enough, but my mood is more sober.
Verse 3
And I know a father who had a son
He longed to tell him all the reasons for the things he’d done
He came a long way just to explain
He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping
Then he turned around and he headed home again
Chorus
Whoah God only knows, God makes his plan
The information’s unavailable to the mortal man
We’re workin’ our jobs, collect our pay
Believe we’re gliding down the highway, when in fact we’re slip sliding away.
Facing my maker and asking lots of questions. It is going to be a long week. I have two friends who lost their father in the last few weeks, another that lost her father a few years ago, and I lost my Father almost six years ago. His diagnosis came in the month of December so it starts a long period of loss for me.
How to be? What to think? How to help? What to do?
“Believe we’re gliding down the highway, when in fact we’re slip sliding away.”
I want to be more present in my life. Be present with and love my family & friends.
I want to see others in ways I have not before; see who needs me. See my kids, husband, mom, sisters, nieces and nephews, close friends.
I want to pursuephotography: exhibit some art, apply for freelance jobs, and tell a particular story.
I want to date my husband.
I want to paint my bedroom. (I have had the paint for months!) and to remove ugly wallpaper from the bathroom!
I want to play the piano more often!
I want to organize my garage, so that we can park our cars in it.
I want to bury my dad; to research and write about him.
I want to finish the book of poetry. Save. Print.
I want to stay sober. ( July 24th, 2008)
I want to have some fun! But on the cheap, because …
We want to live on our budget this year.
I want to get off sleep/anxiety medication. Which means start exercising, going back to therapy, eating right, and heading toward, not away from my demons.
I want to not be so hard on myself. To embrace my strengths and weaknesses. Not use them as a crutch but to push myself to get healthy.
I want to not think about what ifs and if onlys. Do or do not, but stop living in that ugly place.
I want to study: one topic is forgiveness, the forgivers & the forgiven. Biblical and historical stories and characters.
My friend, (recent) neighbor and former colleague at InterVarsity, Pete Hammond went to be with the Lord on Friday. I never took my own picture of him myself, which I deeply regret. It’s weird, you always think you will have more time.
Goodbye Pete.
My heart is heavy today as I sit here at my laptop reflecting on the man I knew. He was 72 (I think), only “retiring” at 70 which is a reflection of him as person. He was never “done” with the work that was on his heart and he continued to make his influence known on people all over the country. He was often in and out of Madison on various trips, it was hard to know when he was here. But we were able to spend a few hours here and there having coffee at my house. In coming days I will reflect on those hours.
Pete was a man of many words.
He loved to write, often waking at 4 or 5 in the morning and writing all morning. Pete loved to pass along books and leaflets, and what not. One thing that he passed on to me, to help me with my grief over losing my father, was titled called the “Mourner’s Bill of Rights.”
1. You have the right to experience your own unique grief.
2. You have the right to talk about your grief.
3. You have the right to feel a multitude of emotions.
4. You have the right to be tolerant of your physical and emotional limits.
5. You have the right to experience “grief bursts.”
6. You have the right to make use of ritual.
7. You have the right to embrace your spirituality.
8. You have the right to search for meaning.
9. You have the right to treasure your memories.
10. You have the right to move toward your grief and heal.
In many ways a list like this is simplistic, but Grief is such a mystery and takes it’s own time. Time actually I have found is meaningless when it comes to grief.
Logic & Imagination 