Seems like the only thing I quit was blogging for a second.  But here I am.  Done with the initial Clean Start Program (14 days of raw fruits and veggies and supplements)  Now I’m on day 5 of the Paracleanse (parasite cleanse) which is pretty brutal.  I’ve been reading on Curezone how folks on parasite cleanses really examine their stool.  I’m not about that life.  Sorry.  I’ll just need to trust that something is coming out because regular is just not the right word to describe how thorough everything has been.  I feel great though.  I’m down by 20lbs, so it’s like a pound a day which is alright by me.  Like I said, I know a LOT of it was water weight, but I’m glad it’s off of me.  I feel amazing internally and I think it’s starting to show on the outside.

Food cravings have scaled back a bit.  As I’ve gotten more adept to putting the right things in my salads and seasoning them just so, I want a deep batter fried cheesy burger less and less.  I had a salad yesterday that made me wanna slap myself.  It was GOOD.  Not an ounce of animal protein.  Just veggies and a ROCKIN’ dressing.  More and more I’m thinking about what I’ll do when the program is over.  How I don’t WANT to go back to my old friends Wendy and the Colonel and the like.  So I’ve decided that during the weekdays I’ll keep everything as I’ve been doing it.  More fruits and veggies than anything.  Maybe the occasional lean meat (preferrably fish, chicken and turkey; no reds) and I’ll leave Saturdays and Sundays to be my “cheat” days with one allowable cheat meal per day.  So that can allow for a brunch to be in there or a diner burger with some fries.  I think if I continue on that path, it can be a healthier life in general.

Went to the doctor and all my labs came back fine which made me feel great.  Of course my iron was on the low side of normal so I gotta get more iron into the supplements somehow.  But it’s refreshing to hear that despite how bad I felt and worried I am to make sure I extend this life, this amazing machine is chugging along.  I just am trying to get myself to a more attractive looking machine so Theeny has a mommy she’s proud to walk down the street with.

More change to come… more progress… I’m proud of me.  A lot of times I thought I might fold, but Earl helped me hold steady.  Bless him.  Cause I sure nuff chewed him out on some bs sometimes on GP that I was REALLY hungry and wanted BADNESS.  But he helped to see me this far.  Hopefully I can make it all the way out.   I had to stop by the Trini women at Greenleaf today to show that I’m still alive.  I used to get my “regular” breakfast from them every morning – 2 eggs, bacon & cheese on a toasted roll with butter and a large hazelnut coffee with milk.  So since fasting I had to cut them cold turkey.  They asked one of my co-workers yesterday if I’d been fired.  LOL  I felt so bad that I stopped by this morning to show them I was still around and not dead or unemployed.  They were genuinely happy to see me.  It made me feel so good.

Lots of good feelings!

*

The interesting / insightful thing to all of this is that the KINDS of food I’m thinking about eating aren’t the ones that I would normally sit and have for my meals.  I didn’t eat HORRIBLY… I stopped being as active ore eating as regularly.  I admit the last 4 months after the baby, I’ve gotten in chummy with the fast foods.   But aside from that, I try to pick healthy stuff.  Lean things.  But those aren’t the things I’m craving now in the fast.   Now? I want all the fatty amazingness that probably got me to the size I am.   It’s really just got me thinking about what I eat… how I eat… when I eat it and if I really want to keep going down that path.

I cheated a little yesterday, admittedly.  I had some wilted spinach and a baked potato with butter.   I know… I rationalized that I was going to do the bowel prep today and it would clean me out anyways  but… i gotta tell you… that little bit of something carried me right through today when I was drinking nothing but water.

Okay… on to day 6 and the colonoscopy *shudder*

*

I didn’t find myself to be as hungry as I imagined. But I’m not doing a dry fast.  I’m still ingesting fruits and veggies.  I saw a video series of a woman who did a 60 day water fast *faints*.  That’s seems like doing the MOST.  The results were pretty impressive.  In 60 days she lost about 50 lbs.    No word on whether she kept it off.  But you can see for yourself:

yeah… she smacks her ass a lot… dunno…

I drank lots of water.  Took all my supplements.  Suppressed the wishing it was day 14 already (not for any one particular reason – because I’ll still be fasting.

Tomorrow, I will join the gym downstairs from my job and get this POPPIN’ for REAL.

Okay.  Sleep time.

*

Well, last year definitely was one for the books.  So much goodness came out of that year.  So many realizations.  So much growing into my own skin.  Of course the highlight is the birth of my sweet baby daughter.  My first born.  The miracle I’d almost given up on.  She has come to life and transformed me.  This entire post … nay the entire blog can be about the ways she’s saved me.  And it will be.  But today’s blog will be about this new year right here.  There’s much to be accomplished and so little time (well… that’s not fair – we get a whole extra day this year LEAP!)

I want to focus on some keys here:

1)  LOSE AT LEAST 60 LBS – yeah.  60.  it’s gotten that bad.  They weighed me at the doctor and I was mortified.  I really let it all go after the baby.  I actually looked GREAT after I had her – for those first 2 months… i was moreso slender than I’d been prior to the pregnancy.  Then I went back to work… and it all went down hill.   Wendy, Ronald, Popeye, Papa John and the Colonel to name a few became regular household visitors… and the weight just piled and piled and piled.  That’s enough now.  With folks around me dying at 42… at 32…  at 27….   I have more reason than ever to try to extend this life for this little girl.  A 65 yr old endpoint isn’t an option AT. ALL.

2)  SET DOWN THE CAREER PATH – there’s some stuff taking place that lets me know that this is the last (or may be the 2nd to last) place I ever work “for”.  The path needs to be laid out that i will work for myself and benefit MY family.  I’ve been saying it for a while, but I’m moreso ready than ever.  I gotta make it happen for me.

3) WORK ON THE SON – while there are many smaller steps to this one, I need to get my mind and body ready to birth my 2nd child.  I am putting it into the universe to give me a son.  Because if I can have my boy and my girl, I will quietly go to Dr. Kofinas and tell him to pull the whole system OUT.   I’ll be done for real.

4) HOME – there will be somewhere I can call “HOME” … a house of our own… no one living above or below.   Us as owners and to follow our own thoughts and rules. PERIOD.  This is a ONE YEAR PLAN… and needs to be.

Those are the pivotals.  And I’ll figure out the sub to-dos in the coming weeks, while I’m pining away for some meat or fish LOL  But if I can make it through this 30 day fast…. I believe that this year will be all I can make it and more.  I just have to show myself that I have the will, courage and steadfast ability to get it done.

Day one of the fast … well… yeah.  This morning, I “cheated” – not really a cheat cause I hadn’t started the fast yet.  Wanted to end it with a good remembrance.  So we went to the diner and had one last hurrah.  That was holding me over pretty good.  So the thoughts of the fast didn’t phase me.  “I can do this.”  “All I have to do is have alternatives to the crap I’d eat ready to go and I won’t stray.”  This evening around 9PM with a fridge full of bananas, pears, apples, V8 and water i craved HARD for some buttered popcorn.  Doesn’t seem so bad.  But this fast calls for raw veggies and fruits for 14 days at least.  The thought of just one kernel of popcorn melting in my mouth overtook me.  I used all of my innate lawyer skills to lobby FOR the idea of making the bag of popcorn to my husband who stood firm against the crashing waves of my desire.  (Thank GOD for him)  I resigned myself to drinking the whey protein drink that goes with this fast and that held me over.  And then I had a pear and made it my bitch and ate the hell out of it.  Now I sit here assessing how I feel and wonder if I’ll ever stop being hungry.   I didn’t realize it was this bad.  But I can’t go back to the way I was eating before.   I literally FELT my system being gummed up.  As I was telling my Icy this morning – I feel stuffed like a doll.  That has to change… post haste.  So… I’ll have to get used to this hunger feeling.  And maybe as a result… also get used to the feeling of really LIKING what and who I see in the mirror.  My mother-in-law did everything short of raising her hands up in a hallelujah when I announced that my fasting started today.  Man.  *smh*

So Day 1… more like day .75 down.  29.25 days to go.

*

“Just a trace of your existence to grasp” – Mariah Carey Vanishing

I’m making this list so that I can be fully reminded how I got here and why.

You used to BRING me flowers.  You thought sending them was so impersonal.
You used to invite me to events to be with you / to be seen with you.
You used to see me several times a week because you wanted to.
You used to invite me to stay the night.
You used to marvel at the new things that you’d learn about me after knowing me so long.
You used to LOVE when I laid my head on your shoulder when we would drive – you decided to marry me one day while I did that.
You used to get goosebumps from my touch / kiss because it was special.  Now it happens because it’s rare.
You used to wear that rare cologne for me because you knew it would drive me crazy.
You used to ask me to dance in our living room.
You used to make a huge deal out of my birthday because you knew that my birthday was a huge deal for me.
You used to have stars in your eyes when you’d see me.
You used to wrap your hands around my waist and pull me close and kiss me and make me feel like a little girl in love
You used to light candles and put on music before we made love.
You used to make love to me.
You used to ask me what I liked and disliked.
You used to share decisions with me instead of making coming to a consensus so hard that I would just acquiesce.
You used to hold my hand walking down the street.
You used to hold my hand driving in the car.
You used to sneak peeks at my blog and my facebook to know what I was thinking and call me on it cause you cared.
You used to encourage my poetry and my singing.
You used to care profoundly when I cried.
You used to offer to pick me up / drop me off from or to anywhere.
You used to want to impress me.
You used to wake me with kisses.
You used to wake me with music.
You used to fear losing me.
You used to fight for us.
I used to have your name in a separate folder on my IM list called “My Love”
I used to melt when you’d say my name.
I used to feel extra giddy coming down Midwood to your house, knowing I’d be in your arms.
I used to get all turned on from the sight of those arms and chest and neck and back and legs…
I used to feel so good about how smooth your skin is and how privileged I was to touch it.
I used to feel that extra grace was shared with me to find a love this strong because I’d messed up so many other times that I’d be forsaken.
I used to be able to talk to you about anything.
I used to be amazed at your math skill.  I told you it was what turned me on about you from the beginning.
I used to feel that I was really a catch for you.
I used to think of you first for all the things I wanted to go out and do and see and experience.
I used to consider you before we even dated… just regarded you from afar and wondered if we could work.
I used to stare at you and it made you uncomfortable.  But you were just that beautiful to me… and I couldn’t believe you were mine.
We used to be the couple that everyone envied and I didn’t question their judgement.
We used to make plans together of the fun things we would do
We used to explore the world together and discover new things.
We used to have genuine fun together.
We used to make each other laugh hearty belly laughs.
We used to like being together and looking forward to it.
We used to fall asleep together on the couch and enjoy cuddling.
We used to dream about the family we’d make.
We used to want to grow old together.
*

Sometimes… it is all about me.

In my own head, it used to be.  I used to know that if I didn’t think of me, that no one else really would.  So I had to MAKE SURE that at the very least?  I thought about me.  It’s the libra in me.  I’m constantly caring about other… sometimes I’d love for someone else to know how I’m feeling.  How life is treating me.  What I want out of this life.  What are the things that make me happy.  What are the things that make me sad… you know… stuff like that.

But what I find is happening increasingly is this… general lack of concern about how I feel.  About where I fit in.  About my general place in the world.

I am very  much feeling myself disappear a la Back to the Future.   I am feeling myself really being defined as an ancillary character in someone else’s main plot when I most CERTAINLY was the main character in my own life.

I make it a habit to ask the people around me if they are happy…. and if there is anything I can do to be making them happier.  What shocks me most is the lack of reciprocation in said question.  On some “thanks for asking” and keep it moving.  Well… what ABOUT me??  who besides me will ever care about ME and what I’d like?

Me, I guess.

So I’ll list a few things here that I feel, care about, wish for, miss, hate, like very much and that pertain to me wholly.  Whether anyone else gives a shit or not at this point is beyond me.  I give a shit.

I adore my daughter.
No, it does NOT bring me joy to see thousands of pictures of her playing with other people while I work extremely hard to make sure that she wants for nothing.
Yes, I want DESPERATELY to be “brought home” so that I can be her MOTHER and everyone else a bit part player.  I AM NOT LOVING being a supporting role in her life.  A walk on.  An extra.
I hate the confusion at my job right now. It is upsetting me.  I don’t like uncertainty and I’m tired of going through these processes at the places I work.  I would like some stability please.  For at LEAST 3 years before boats go a-rocking
I don’t like the family car.  Having my own car gave me a sense of individuality. I was able to tailor it to what I wanted it to be.  With me being solely responsible for it, it felt like there was something in this world that was truly mine.  This family car sucks… the horn works intermittently and it’s always dusty.  I haven’t melded with it the way I did with Deez.  I miss her.  I miss the “road trip” feeling I got when I got into that car.  I fear it’ll never come back.
I miss being desired.  I miss feeling like the most wanted and beautiful person in SOMEONE’s life.  I miss being chased after.  I miss being caught.  I miss making LOVE.  I miss being fucked.  I miss feeling like a WOMAN.
I hate thinking I have to hate the way I look.  I like my body.  I understand that this world is built for skinny people.  But I love my fullness.  I don’t like that it means that I may potentially die before everyone else.  But I think I’m fierce when I see myself in the mirror in the mornings.  I wish other people felt that way instead of looking at me like they want to offer me some advice.
I miss my mom.  I miss my grandma.  I miss my dad. I miss that undeniable sense of family that I used to have all the time.  The knowing that there were some folks in this world that UNCONDITIONALLY were loving me back.  I miss there feeling like there is a forcefield of protection around me fostered by my family.  I hate that the family is so segmented.  I hate that they all want to blame me for why we don’t speak anymore.  Phones work two ways.  I can’t ALWAYS be the one reaching out.   I hate that in my mind I have to kill those people off so the thought of how they’re treating me without ever interacting with me won’t keep hurting me.
I miss the fun that used to be associated with my sorority.  I miss the TRUE fellowship.  I miss that deep sisterhood.  I hate that I pay them to stress me out yearly.  I hate that they act like they give me a paycheck for the things I do.  I hate that they’ve taken away the little silly stuff that meant a LOT.  I’m really glad that I milked my experience for all that I could while I could and have great memories because I don’t believe I’ll make anymore like that to keep me going for much longer.
I hate feeling like I am disappearing.  It is the feeling that makes me feel MOST like my mom.  I know she hated her life if it weren’t for a few things.  I LOVE LIFE… I have to get back to that everyday.
I miss discovering new music that made me wonder what else there was out in the world beyond what I know.  That made me want to travel and meet new people and explore new experiences.  Everything sounds the same these days
I hate feeling put upon.  Everyone WANTS something.  No one cares what I want.
I hate that I need to drink to feel high these days.  I used to get that feeling just by living my life. (and drinking LOL)
I never felt more beautiful than when I was pregnant with Athena.  It was the very first time in my life I didn’t have to worry about my tummy poking out of my clothes.  It was actually welcome.  It was a serious denoument after her birth to go back to being criticized instead of celebrated.
I hate that I think my baby doesn’t know me.  She takes time to recognize me still sometimes.  (mostly when she’s tired).  But still… I want to feel like… her MOTHER… no higher title. the word for God on the her lips until she can learn other wise.  Not because i want to control her or dominate her… but because I remember the comfort of having someone like that on earth with me.

Well… that’s it for now.  I think I’ve made space in my head for some new thoughts.  I would normally insert the promise here to blog more.  But I just don’t care right now.

And that’s real.

</RANT>

*

That’s life.
That’s the life I’ve been waiting for.
Praying for.
And I’ve just eased right in… Like I’ve always been doing this.
And it feels so right and so natural that anything but this?

feels foreign.

Laying there to nap with her and we breathe;
Sitting and cooing with her is instinctual.
Feeding her and feeling her caress my hand
Even the silly grin on her face when it’s time to change her.
All feels like this is where I’ve always belonged.
She knows me better than anyone ever has.
Inside and out.

This is the life.

The one I was waiting for.
I want for nothing more…

Well…

Maybe….

to do it all again next year….

But back to understanding my dad.  All my life, Daddy was this… lofty ideal…  I couldn’t put a stamp on who he was or what he was.  He was there… he worked hard.  But he found so much more enjoyment outside the house.  So much so that he’d come home and I suppose be reminded of all the things he was running to the outside to get away from.  Family. Responsibility.  Rigamarole.  At least… that’s what I thought.  But living here now… the ONLY person in the whole edifice that doesn’t share a blood line with anyone else but the brand new baby… I’m understanding my father more.  Growing up, we were literally SURROUNDED by my mother’s family.  All the aunts and uncles we met and knew were my mom’s brothers and sister.  Grandma that raised us was her mom.   Only living Grandpa was her dad.  Countless cousins that surrounded us were from her side of the family – be it Grandpa Osmin’s family or Granny’s side.  I would sometimes wonder where Dad’s family was – but they were mostly all in Haiti still.  The ones that did come visit – my cousin Marlene and my uncle Gabriel – i remember with fondness.  Maybe mostly because they made an effort to come up and be a part of the family.  To get to know us in some way.  By the time his sister, my aunt Yvonne, moved up and lived with us for sometime, I was already grown – an adult so it didn’t really matter to me and I considered her presence more of an inconvenience because she got my room and I had to sleep in the living room for the length of her stay.  But while I was being raised I remember mom’s family coming to live with us for months at a time as they made their exodus to the Americas.  As a kid I thought nothing of it.  It was fun.  More family… more stuff to do and people to talk to.  But now I think about my dad…. cornered. In a house full of “family” that wasn’t his family.  His only relation was to those little rug rats running around.  No family in the city… state… country…  No one who knew him from before he was a husband or a dad or an American, even.  Just his wife’s family.  And their chatter.  And their ways.  And their togetherness, which you seem to be perpetually outside of.  None of them understand how stuff was done when he was growing up in his particular household.  His father had passed when he was just 11 and they had to make it happen w/o an adult male presence in the household.  Dad had to learn how to cook so he could help his mom.  Being the youngest and the only survivor between he and his twin, he loved his mom extra much.  Shit.  We barely felt it when his mom died and he traveled down to Haiti alone to bury her.   How alone he must’ve felt in that realm.

The lonesomeness wouldn’t be so bad if when I did reach out to family, it was well received.  But they all sit there on their high horses all talking about “YOU don’t call.  YOU don’t write. YOU don’t visit.”  I guess I’m the only one with a phone, a pen or email and a car.  Either that or all their avenues are incoming only.  These same people I mentioned above who were all about family when they lived with us… fell away when mom died.  And I’m not sure what they expected of me.  Folks get confused because I LOOK like my mom but I am not her.   We don’t do things the same.  We don’t really have the same mannerisms.  And her tolerance for BS was way higher than mine.  My tongue is sharper too.  And it was mostly silenced out of respect for HER.    But now that she’s gone — all of them can get it.  They want to NOT answer their phones when I try to invite them to the baby’s christening – then FUCK them.  They want to wait upon invite after invite after invite all to just NOT show up then criticize that I don’t try hard enough?  FUCK them.  They want to never act like their phones work going out.  FUCK THEM.  I have narrowed my circle significantly.  The only family that tries to keep the ties: Domi.  Tante Sisi.  Ollie and his mom.  Oncle Vava (and i know he doesn’t stay in touch because of that ugly BITCH wife of his). Even Ginette who is only a family member by marriage stays in touch more than supposed real blood relation.  That’s it.

The rest of the so-called family can heed this message:

The original nuclear died off with Mom and Dad.  All the nuclear i need is here.  Hubby.  Baby.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

-Simon & Garfunkel

*

“No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.”

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

And as he was a proponent of change and progression… this had to happen.

Out with the old… in with… whatever is next.

RIP.

*

This month, my cherub is 3 months strong and no longer considered a newborn. She is now a full fledged baby. My 4th trimester is officially over and I dare say I came thru with flying colors. I know it is all a process and all the things I have expertise in now will go the way of the dinosaur soon. But I am ready for the ever changing, always evolving wonderment that is my Theeny.

Her morning laughter at the sight and recognition of me is something that I LIVE for. It is the most powerful pick me up in the morning and fuels me through my day to get back to her. I love my nucleus. Seeing us together gives me new purpose and renewed strength. I believe I can accomplish anything – even bring myself home and be a SAHM like I have always wanted. I just have to walk the path carefully and diligently. I can. I will. For my Theeny