My best friend is so in love with her daughter. You know how parents look at their newborns and just fall in love? You look in the kid and think how funny looking newborns are, but they are hopelessly smitten. Well, my friend is still smitten, after 9 years and a difficult nine it has been at times. The poor mite has had all sorts of trouble with serious food allergies and asthma, and it's been a struggle to just get her to eat enough to grow well. And she's got some learning issues which have made homework time often times of tears (young un) and gnashing of teeth (mom). Just last night however, BF turned to me and said of daughter, "Isn't she just wonderful? She's getting to be such fun!" She's said something similar to me only, oh, a million times. Clearly this is a woman in love.
I've already written about my breakthrough in getting back into the studio. I had an epiphany and realized that I was so consumed by the fear of what others would think of my painting, that what I was suffering from was an extreme form of people-pleasing. That attitude was strangling my art, and filled my hours in the studio with anxiety. Something clicked, and since then I've been able to regularly work there.
And nearly every day I've had at least one --- albeit brief --- moment every time where I take a close look at the strokes on the canvas and I fall in love. "Look at those beautiful colors!" I think, even if the overall design isn't yet to my liking, I still can find bits of the work that give me a thrill. I love the mark of the brush, the way distinct colors unite to make a greater whole but up close can dissolve into bits of lovely color. I think that love is what keeps me coming back.
I think that works with the struggle with food too. The last few days have been a little rough. I've had lots of cravings for junk food, strange salt cravings that have made me have odd snacks like raw turnip and carrots sprinkled with kosher salt, or a nighttime beverage of hot chicken stock. I've groaned about it when Fuzz and I stopped in to the late night market to pick up some yogurt and I walked past the aisle display of 23 million different flavors of potato chip. But I don't do it "just once" because I know that down that path lies oblivion, that, to paraphrase a friend in AA, the first bite is the easiest one to turn down. Each subsequent one is harder to say "enough" to.
I'm a compulsive overeater. More and more I see that spontaneous eating is dangerous for me. That I have to have some sort of plan in place to keep me safe. There are times when rigidity is necessary. Not buying junk food is a fairly iron clad rule. I might have a little at a party, or where I can have a small discrete amount. Occasionally Fuzz and I might split a small bag of chips, but boy, is that ever not satisfying. I think I build it up in my head and make it into CHIPS!!!!! But it's just chips, not the fountain of youth. There is some part of me that expects it to be the holy grail, and I'm disappointed it's not. But instead of saying, hm, that was no fun, what my inner voice roars is "MOOOOOORRRRE!!!!" That's pretty nuts, expecting that the holy grail will be revealed after another couple of bags.
What keeps me just two steps ahead of that insanity is my love of what I've got now: good health, loved ones and friends, and fun. The more I give into the compulsion, the less I get of those other things. I don't want to give that up, that's what makes me buy lots of veggies and make sure I've got a good dinner waiting when I return from running and my OA meeting tonight. I'm vain. I like how I look in my jeans right now. But the basic thing has to be love. Love of how my life is right now, love of how the mystery just seems to keep flowering and showing blooms where before there was none. I know I'm getting a little new-agey-misty-tinkly-woo-woo here, but that's how it feels. Whatever works.
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