The grief has been coming in waves and I find myself out of practice when it comes to asking for what I need. It’s a new skill and is easily lost in the midst of preschooler unpacking the house holiday demands. I had moments of devastation today because few of my in-real-life friends or family acknowledged Ben – or how difficult it is to not have him, alive and in our arms – yesterday. I know that’s part of the process – other people move on with their lives while we mourn. But it hurts to feel him slowly vanish from hearts and minds.
I noticed the ache in my chest, but kept pushing through as there was a to-do list to conquer. Finally, unwilling to tough it out a moment longer, I lay down and as my cat clambered up, eager for a child-free moment of affection, I heard the tape playing in my head. Everyone wants something from me, I don’t have enough energy to go around, there is not enough of me to give…
I heard it and I stopped short.
Suddenly I heard, There is more than enough for everyone if you give to yourself too.
So simple.
The ache in my chest vanished.
*****
Reverb10. December 26
Soul food. What did you eat this year that you will never forget? What went into your mouth & touched your soul? (from Elise Marie Collins, author of An A-Z Guide to Healing Foods: A Shopper’s Reference.)
My relationship with food has shifted dramatically this year. I’ve said goodbye to gluten and to dairy and sugar (ahem, mostly). I don’t drink much alcohol anymore and I make my own water and coconut kefir. I eat mainly vegetarian or vegan dishes and I own two raw food recipe books. If I do eat meat it’s from a local farm and I know they raise (and kill) their animals ethically. It’s been a shock to my husband, who fell in love with me in part because I enjoyed a good steak, but I feel healthier, thinner inside, more alive. If I could get enough sleep on a regular basis I’d want to leap tall buildings in a single bound.
This change is food for my soul. It syncs beautifully with my deepest, most connected, most truth-telling self. It benefits my body, my spirit, my family, and the world.
The hardest thing about it?
It’s possible – though I will never know – that my gluten intolerance had something to do with Ben’s death, and my two other miscarriages. But thinking about that is crazy-making and there is no turning back the clock.
When I write about food at the end of 2011, I want my words to echo Heather’s at GFMuse:
Looking back, I understand that we invited joy into our kitchen this year. Much to my delight, it came right in, rolled up its sleeves and made itself at home.
