Fasting for Health

 Fasting is a word that used to cause me unease. I grew up with a family obsessed with being thin and a whole host of eating disorders and bad relationships with food because of it. I was always subjected to those underhanded compliments or outright insults because I ate what I liked and was a little heavier and thicker than they were. However, until my late 20s, I always had a healthy BMI. I’ve gone into this before, but in summary, taking mood stabilizers numbed me and all I did was sleep and eat for nearly a year and put on a shocking 80 lbs in doing so. Needless to say, I was pretty skeptical of doctors and medication for a long time after that as well.

I’ve also said this before, but don’t be afraid of anyone in a position to help you; just be prepared to advocate for your own problems and solutions. Don’t do their job for them, just make sure to suggest things if they don’t arrive there first. Respect their years of expertise but also remember you’re the foremost expert of your symptoms and concerns. You’re not going to make them your best ally if you’re overriding their training. 

That was a little aside but the main idea is this; what made fasting a viable option for me. I’ve spent the past seven months rigorously attempting to lose weight and be healthier in general, which I’ve also gone into the failures and frustrations in previous posts. I exercised to the point of pain and exhaustion, ate strictly in terms of calories and macros and types of food, but I was constantly fluctuating between 208-212 lbs no matter what I did. For a woman of my age and height, this amounts to being stuck with, in no uncertain terms, obesity. I teeter on the edge of overweight at 185 so this isn’t even close to ‘a little’ obese.

To say I haven’t made any strides wouldn’t be true. I’ve clearly built muscle and flexibility and areas like my face, shoulders, lower arms and stomach have shrunk a bit. However, my upper legs and upper arms, where I tend to hold most of my weight, haven’t budged at all. I do have better energy and moods but I still have pretty low days that are much rarer when I’m at my healthiest.

So I researched fasting. You’ll get a lot of mixed info, from both regular fasters and even medical doctors. However, I really dug into possible side effects, positive and negative, and came away with a renewed attitude towards the fasting process. First and foremost, I looked into accelerated autophagy, a process through which, once your body has depleted glucose and is burning more fat, your growth cells begin to speed up and streamline your immune system, getting rid of old, dead or inefficient cells and replacing them with new ones. This can also attribute to anti-aging. It sounds too good to be true, but it’s actually quite difficult to reach this stage; you can get there between 24-48 hours of fasting but studies seem to lean towards its peak being between the 48-72 hour mark. The second day of fasting is always a real test in discipline, even when you’re being safe and keeping your electrolytes up…

So reaching these burn stages between 24 and 72 are ideal. There are no real advantages I’ve seen to doing more than a 3 day fast and beyond that, it is highly suggested it be medically supervised. There are some pretty bad side effects and they are akin to what is termed ‘keto flu’ if you want to look at them. It’s a rather varied list like cramps, aches, decreased energy, diarrhea, etc. Long term or excessive fasting can lead to the opposite of good health; increased risk of diabetes, lowered immunity, kidney diseases, cardiovascular diseases and starvation complications. This is why long term frequent fasting is advised against when you’re not supervised or at the very least, testing your blood and vitals.

What really got me curious, more so than autophagy (which they’re really looking into as a possible treatment for chemo patients), are the improvements to gut health, hormonal levels and digestive issues, all of which really seem to be my setbacks in losing weight. I also like the idea of relaxing on tracking food intake for two days every week and feeling less guilty when I want to eat more.

You do need to go easy when breaking fasts of 36 hours or longer though. Refeeding  syndrome is a possibly deadly issue where you shock your system by eating too much too fast after your digestive system has slowed down or shut down once it’s used to not getting solid foods. I haven’t found this to be an issue personally. I’ve had issues like diarrhea and constipation while I’ve been adjusting but these have been expected and very temporary.

At this point, I’ve done a 3 day fast, a couple 20-24 hr fasts, and a couple full 36 hour fasts. It gets easier but you will constantly think about food if you don’t stay distracted. You will notice just how many food commercials are on TV (if you don’t pay for ad-free services). However, I’m happy to say that my weight currently sits between 204 and 206 now so it is currently dropping again. I was not expecting huge losses and I never wanted that to happen. There are a lot of bad side effects that come with dropping weight too fast and I definitely don’t want them. It’s not a huge health concern to do so so I won’t. I’m not at risk for diabetes at this time and my weight isn’t disabling. 

I will continue to fast for 36 hours twice a week for the next month at least. If the results and side effects are not worrisome, I may continue to do this for six months to a year. Every three months I’d like to do a full three days and will not be fasting at all the remainder of that week. I have also seen advice not to fast during menstrual periods, as it can cause shedding and toxicity issues as well as intensified cramps.

I have been very careful in my research since fasting is starving yourself, no matter how you word it. However, I am going to be very careful with duration, my weight loss and any symptoms I don’t like along the way. This can only be for the sake of health and I must be aware of any dysphoria or unhealthy body image perceptions. Anorexia and bulemia are NOT options here. There may be some maintenance fasting, for autophagy or weight maintenance, beyond this regimen but I am not taking this lightly. I am aware that, having tried everything, this is simply the last and safest resort towards sustainable results.

So I’m optimistic. I will be supplementing electrolyte nutrients (also discussed before) as well. I have no desire for a ‘pure’ water fast. Those just aren’t medically sound, especially with my health and hormonal issues. I feel like I’ve certainly researched enough to handle this with confidence and care and look forward to seeing where this goes.

Phases and Setbacks

 I’ve gone into details before about my struggles with becoming healthier. Over the past six months, I binged on exercise and dieted on healthy foods, carefully tracked. I lost 12 pounds in the first two months, then nothing. I bounced between 208 and 212 for four or five months. There was no way that more exercise or less food was healthier and it wasn’t a sustainable lifestyle change to do either so I was stuck. I never had luck with intermittent fasting or macros specific dieting either so I’ve looked into… scarier alternatives.

Fasting, which is essentially controlled starvation, is one of those alternatives. It’s always sounded like a one way trip to an eating disorder and it’s territory full of unhealthy assumptions and ‘clean’ elitists/purists. I’d tried an extended water fast in the past and it was torture. Headaches, hunger, no energy, it was like voluntarily giving myself a bad cold. However, I’ve looked into what sort of fasting is medically supervised and the key difference is that they push for the balance of electrolytes.

To my understanding, this involves four key elements; sodium, magnesium, potassium and calcium. Having hard tap water (filtered with carbon but still hard), calcium deficiency is never a problem and also why I never supplement it, fasting or not. Sodium was a trickier exploration. If you overdo it, take too much too fast… there will be diarrhea. Drinking salt water is torture for me, no matter how little you add, it’s never diluted enough. I’m this case, I opted for the suggestion of bouillon. Purists might balk at it since ANY calories ‘break a fast’ but then again so does anything but water. They argue about discipline but for a great deal of people interesting in positive fasting benefits, bro-ing it out over raw-dogging the water is pointless. Only spiritual fasting seems to impose the self-torture of starvation. You can achieve accelerated autophagy approaching it more reasonably. Bouillon will not spike you out of a fast and will contribute to maintaining energy and well-being throughout. I’ve read countless medical articles on this (and not the ones trying to sell their fasting formulas; you can never trust a site trying to sell anything, as they will embellish on the truth).

Which leaves magnesium and potassium, which boost each other and regulate sodium intake better. Again, you have to look at the kinds of sodium and magnesium that might work best for you since the ways they are bound seem to alter their benefits and absorption. I opted for magnesium malate and potassium citrate.

Insofar, I did a three day fast, and two 24 hour ones. I set out to do 36 hours but I’ve been more wary about looking for symptoms that they aren’t beneficial to continue. I did the 3 day fast to know what I was getting into and it made me certain those will be rarer. I’m going to aim for two 24 or 36 hour fasts a week. It’s lumped with intermittent fasting as an option but I feel like it takes the guesswork out of calorie counting for that period of time, which is a relief. At first, I was ravenous coming off of a fast, but over the past two weeks, it’s become more manageable. I am welcoming healthier foods into my diet naturally rather than trashing the pantry and inserting nothing but rabbit food. The fasts give me more wiggle room to indulge, not right away but the day after at least.

I wasn’t sure it would work, but it’s motivated me to keep up with daily workouts and has helped with my physical progress and pain levels. I’m not getting huge results with weight loss but I was 209 pounds at my doctor's visit a week ago and 205 this morning. I haven’t seen 205 yet so this is a promising low.

I was miserable all the time on a restrictive diet and I think that stress was only gripping onto my weight. This sort of fasting is giving me both careful discipline and a break from the tracking and restricting. I have more freedom to eat and it becomes easier to make better choices with that freedom. I can essentially fast to reset my digestive system and cell regeneration.

It may or may not help with losing weight. I’m not going to go to more drastic or miserable measures to do it. I just want to be healthier, to have better control of my mind and body. It is always a balance though. It is too easy for these desires to become obsessions, to become controlled by the need for discipline and lose sight of the goals for health. I carefully track my fasts. I’m not going to keep extending them to see how far I can push when it becomes easier. I will not exceed 2 36 hour fasts a week, with maybe a 3 day fast every few months (and not doing the shorter fasts at all that week). 

It’s the benefits of fat burning states and autophagy I am most interested in. I’m not interested in super low-carb diets to upkeep ketosis. I’ve seen too many studies where ketosis heightens the chance of diabetes and other chronic conditions. If you’re not getting your blood tested frequently with these things, you’re pulling some big risks. Which is why I opted for short fasts that I give myself room to bail on. In six months, I’ll be getting a check up with my doctor to have bloodwork so I don’t want to see any startling negative changes from overdoing it unsupervised.

I just wanted to make a change that might reduce stress and achieve better results. What worked before doesn’t work now. I exercised intensely daily and ate very little. I dropped weight fast and gained muscle but it was too miserable to maintain and I completely abandoned it altogether. Trying to do it that way again because it ‘worked’ hit me with the cold reality that I’m older, my hormones are different and it won’t work like that anymore. 

So I’m going to give this reset concept a go for a few months. I do yoga stretches daily as well as some cardio boxing or weight exercises. I still exercise but more intuitively than habitually. I see and feel improvements that don’t push me to injury and setbacks. I’m regaining energy, mobility and better moods. As long as these positives remain, I know I’m on the right track.

I know this isn’t the most interesting news, but I’m very certain that my creativity will stay blocked until I learn to balance it with good health practices. I won’t be able to focus on that aspect of myself when I’m physically miserable. Mentally, I check out too. I keep hoping there will be a triumphant return to my creative productivity but that will require looking after my physical health. You need energy, stamina and motivation to be creative and I’ve been sorely depleted by these two challenging years. It will take some time to get that back and I can’t force that. Stress hormones don’t reward you when you get too pushy. They’ll just shut you down.

So here’s to finding that balance again. Small doses of all the right things. We’ll see.

Ice Cream and Crying

 I don’t really want to get into what’s happening right now. The storm hasn’t passed and the blubbering that happens when I’m ravaged by emotion makes for something too incomprehensible to clarify for others. Just know that I always thought ice cream and crying was some bullshit that TV and movies invented that doesn’t work (like that weird thing where someone dies and they push the eyelids closed; I tried that with my dog after he died and they don’t close like that, at least not right away. I didn’t try for hours to see if that changed) but, ahem… it works. Even when it’s some shitty keto diet coffee chip ice cream because the nearby store doesn’t carry my Haagen Dazs brand coffee. I didn’t cry until I couldn’t breathe, if only because it’s really hard to eat when you can’t see the spoon.

My cats are worried about me too. They’re following more closely than usual. They can probably feel my higher than usual anxiety. They’re not cuddling or anything but they’ve been keeping me in view all day. When I went to the store, they were right at the door when I came back so I know they waited there the whole time. She-Ra always does it but Seven was there today too.

I’m going to try to explain the facts, sans emotional blubbering. I suspected my sister started using again. Midweek, she came home, talking more rapid than usual. Dad says alcohol but I know better. I can always smell alcohol on her and she’s been avoiding it because she’s on a diet for her liver, which is possibly cirrhotic. Anxiety has been high around here for months, between Dad’s constant restless bitching and my sister going back to work and the boys going back to school, things are changing a lot, maybe too much, and I’ve been trying too hard to be the glue that can’t possibly hold it all together. So I’ve been gravitating back to just trying to hold it together for me and the boys, just hoping I can keep them out of all the bullshit. I want so badly for them to rise above it and be so much better than this.

And that’s where I have to stop because I always get choked up worrying about them. Look, I really don’t know if they know how bad things are. They can probably feel it more than they’re letting on but I really don’t want it to touch them. I hope I can even give them what they need to get out and never look back. Not even for me. Which means I’ve never been expecting an award for doing this, or any repayment for good deeds either. It’s okay to just slip back into the muck as long as I can get them the hell out of it.

I know that sounds bleak but I haven’t given up on me either. I still hope and tread water too, trying to pull my own life together against the odds. But if that means holding my breath and going under to make sure my nephews don’t sink too, that’s where I have to be right now. I just can’t soar high and think they’ll be okay until I can come back for them. There isn’t any leeway for them if I look away for a moment. I can’t trust anyone to put them first. I can’t let them ever think for one moment that they’re in this alone. I’ve been there and even as an adult, it still traumatizes me.

But that’s ultimately why I’m a bleeding-heart liberal. I know how bitter and terrified and bleak it is to be left alone in hell. We can do better for other people. Other people don’t have to suffer just because we did or ‘that’s just the way it is’. That’s not a world I want future generations will ever think of as normal. It’s not normal. I know there are people who put their kids first, families who didn’t abandon them. We can’t sit around and fucking normalize abuse and trauma and pretend like being crippled is just the way we should all be. It’s ‘life is unfair’ when things are bad for someone else and ‘it’s only fair’ when we’re the ones disadvantaged. I care because someone has to. Being a selfish asshole is never okay. 

So… eat ice cream and cry sometimes. I thought I was on the verge of a panic attack or maybe a heart attack but that weight has lifted. Somewhat. I’m at the crux of situations that could get much worse. But all the more reason to start self-care now. When I absolutely have to step in, I know I’m the last resort so I can’t fail. If I make that weight too heavy, I’ll fail too. This isn’t about a prize at the end. My burdens won’t just fall away as I ride a rainbow into utopia. I could suddenly make a million in book sales and it doesn’t change that I’ve got a dysfunctional family and nephews I’m trying to keep well above it. Money just doesn’t change all the pain and challenges. It will never be enough glue to keep the ship afloat. I want to be successful but I’m also very damaged. Being rich and famous won’t make people nicer. People will still be selfish. But damned if I don’t keep looking for those niches, those little pockets of air, to take one long cleansing breath before diving into murky waters again.

Keep. It. Together. Ever wondered why I use the name Kita sometimes? Keep It Together, Always. I can unravel a bit but I’ve gotta gather it up and keep pushing on. 

I Quit!

 Two words that seem so high drama, but lemme assure thee, not quite so serious. I’ve stuck to my resolve to stop using social media. For the most part. I think Quora counts as social media but I mostly use it as a sort of random fact finding rabbit hole, just steering clear of the social-media-esque drama that seems to leak everywhere. It just seems like the easiest platform to avoid the worst of it and still enjoy pop culture and random knowledge tidbits. Although, I should probably use that one less too because…

Procrastination and severe mood swings. Could be some subconscious build-up to turning 40, but I suspect it has more to do with the permeation of spam, ads and poor targeting algorithms aimed at fucking over our already pandemic-assaulted psyches. Ads always seemed full of scammers or ‘maybe you’re too fat’ or religious ads. As for that last one, I don’t know if the algorithm pretend atheism is the same as a religion and they’re all the same or if it’s proselytizing to us poor misguided heathens, but it’s constant and predatory. For every three posts that may or may not be a friend I actually want to hear from, there’s a nail in the head to the self-esteem to knock you down. I tried just going into the Watch category or sticking to groups, but the random stream of videos tended to throw in a depressing one here and there (you like funny cat videos? You’ll love this one of a cat near death that gets healthy again!) or the groups just got catty over politics or identity, the exact opposite of what I want when looking for inspiration or amazing hobby work. 

I… really just don’t want to find the handful of people I care about across the social minefield anymore. There’s this thick poisonous cloud of entitlement to opinion and undeserved ego to find any real grain of truth existing in humanity. People have devolved to insisting they’re telling the ‘truth’ fearlessly and unfiltered, but it’s bullying and posturing on a level you’d never take it to with a stranger in real life because you never know who’s carrying a gun ready to pop you in a sudden rage for saying shit that hateful. People have begun confusing strong emotion for absolute truth. But our realities are overlapping less in these confusing power fantasies online.

Honestly… I’d rather be lonely and isolated in my room than engage in a very unhealthy online popularity contest. One of my real life friends, Matt, has been very vocal about ‘quitting social media’ but I keep seeing this slew of notifications prior to leaving myself and then a blog about “friends” that hurt more than a little. He doesn’t read my blog so he won’t see this anyway. I wanted to reply directly but I couldn’t remember my damn Wordpress login and gave up.

On the upside, he simply called me a friend and not a “friend” as he tore down the others listed. He basically said he wishes we talked more (sentiment shared) but is still bitter that I agreed with another “friend” that he was too negative. He was. And is. And I know depression is selfish because I’ve been extremely depressed over the course of the last year. Fucking hell, that means I absolutely cannot fucking let the blind lead me, the also-blind. We would walk each other off of a cliff so he can be mad at me, but I can’t help him; I do not have the strength to handle rejection. I’m old-hat when it comes to depression, which means I know how common it is to either avoid people or push them away like an asshole. I’ve learned to do the former because the latter always makes it worse. You end up on the asking forgiveness step of a 12 step program when you regret what a monstrous ass you’ve been. I just have to hope he figures that out because I cannot reach out. A strong wind could scatter me right now. I cannot mentally handle being told I’m not enough or how to make someone feel better.

I don’t want anyone to worry reading this. I know when I’ve reached critical point and I know it means an emergency room visit and possibly a psych ward stay. It’s been years but I know the signs. When I get too numb or start fantasizing about death or saying goodbye, I go get checked. I know I can’t get better on my own and need medication. This isn’t a fault I can help or blame myself for. It’s a chemical overload and it takes a chemical kick. I politely tell the doctors I do not want talk therapy, which makes it worse because it’s not triggered by rational thought. I would have to invent something that makes sense to them, when I honestly never know what triggered it. I’ve been confused by it since I was a preteen and it’s not more clear to me now. It might have been accelerated by traumas but the triggers don’t make sense. I can be perfectly happy and suddenly slammed with an irrational anxiety.

I didn’t mean to make this a mental health post though. I feel like sometimes I’m more honest because I used to feel like no one felt like I do but know that other people’s honesty helped me realize that’s not true at all. Modern times have screwed up a lot of people. People aren’t coping with the speed of change or how fast we’ve outgrown an outdated history. Technology and especially social media used to be an exciting haven of discovery but became toxic with all the posturing and ‘honesty’. We are being less honest.

So that’s why I quit. I want to say yes to a normal life again. I want a healthy body and a healthy mind. I was getting very, very sick and I’ve had to make some drastic but very gentle changes. I am still fragile but I’m finding strength in my habits and plans.

Be a quitter too, if you’re ready. You might find that you are more yourself, more honest, when you’re not fishing for online approval. Connecting with people or passions more in the present. We need to share reality again, but we can’t do that solely in virtual spaces. There is no courage stronger than looking into each other’s eyes and using our mouths and spoken words, our tones and inflections, to truly speak. 

There’s hope. In balance, in compromise, in progress. Reach for it. Heal yourself and heal each other.

Tough Love; I’m Grounded

 I woke up feeling slammed by anxiety today. I’m sure it has a little to do with not going on a walk outdoors since Sunday; exercise has helped me regulate anxiety better and its absence tends to mount feelings of guilt. I haven’t been lazy since I still do strength and stretching workouts daily, but those outdoor walks tend to ground me when spending a lot of indoors makes me stir-crazy.

I’ve also decided to stop using social media for a while. I told myself for at least a week but I wouldn’t hate if I could walk away altogether. I’ve tried just saying I would use it as a tool for sharing my projects or as a way to stay in touch with friends, but more often than not, I face it with a sense of dread. How will my words be twisted? Will someone belittle my experiences? Will someone not take a joke and ruin my moods? I’ve carefully culled it with deletes and blocks and snoozes and hiding, but still it’s a gamble of depressing targeted ads or videos, group drama, bans due to shitty algorithms, and more often than not, strangers who make colossal leaps in logic and feel justified in taking out their bullshit on strangers so they don’t have to lash out at people they actually give a shit about (even though they probably take out social media induced bad moods on family as well).

There’s no particular catalyst in that decision; since I couldn’t attach a reason to the anxiety, I didn’t uselessly attach something to it. I just asked myself what exists in my life that I may be using as an excuse, that may be feeding my struggles more than lifting me up. I can say the same thing of Quora too. I started looking in hobby groups for people needing help and for months, rather than doing my own projects, I’ve just been ‘sharing my wisdom’. That is something I am consciously aware that I have been using as an excuse to not work on my own projects.

And yeah, I can tell myself to ease up. I wrote a ton of books in a short span of time. But weeks stretched into months and then years and I have become too comfortable with avoiding what used to bring me joy. I once again realize that I never draw or write anything of substance or discipline and rationalize knowledge as some sort of contribution.

Have I mentioned I never liked the word ‘contribution’? It’s always a way we bully each other and ourselves to deliver some meaningful thing to society but we rarely allow ourselves to actually define or control how we assert it. We generally let assholes and rich people (not mutually exclusive) make us feel selfish if our ‘contributions’ aren’t selfless enough, yet they ironically define selfless as benefiting themselves directly. It’s just more psychological fuckery that society tries to push to terrorize you out of finding that balance of mindfulness and happiness and into resigning yourself to some miserable assignment that never utilizes your actual best talents at all.

Like with current events, in fact. How often was I seeing people talking shit about people on unemployment because their favorite shitty fast food joints are closed and we’re not all stumbling at the opportunity to fill garbage jobs we’re overqualified for? Like dignity has a fucking price tag. Fucking hypocrites would never consider dealing with assholes like themselves either…

This is another thing I can contribute to the influence of social media. There’s a bitterness that I discarded years ago that has crept back in. Too many garbage ideas and garbage opinions are worming their way in again and I’m tired of letting any of it camp out in my head. I’m tired of letting these things influence my mood and ideas. I’m sick of them crushing my ability to embrace fantasy and romance and storytelling. 

Most of all, I’m tired of any and all distractions that give me the excuse to prolong my unhappiness. I’ve talked so much about ‘grounding’ myself when anxiety sends me into orbit but maybe I need an old-fashioned grounding. Maybe I need to sit in a corner staring at walls when I repeatedly refuse to cultivate my talents or work on projects. Maybe I need to feel boredom to the point of tears when I’m so blessed to have so many projects waiting to be done and ignore every last one of them. And for the lukewarm unknown territory of what notifications await me on these social media sites that haven’t fulfilled anything for me in a very long time. It’s just easier to blame social media than my own terrible choices.

So I’m going to confine myself to doing nothing at all if I can’t pull my priorities together any other way.

On a good note, I did actually work on Mena today. I did some more gold trim on her top and will add jewels to that next. Waiting for some pliers to come in the mail to refine the shape of her anklets before I decorate those, but there’s plenty of other tasks I can hop over too until then.

I thought about the projects that all drifted away even before the pandemic. The half written stories and books, the digital paintings in limbo, the dismantled dolls and marked crochet. Altogether it’s… intimidating and a lot. I do realize I took on more than was sustainable and I’ve made it formidable to return to. At the time, I thought creating so many choices would ensure I was never bored. After leaving them hanging, it’s only made them more intimidating to return to. I don’t remember where I was with any of them. Luckily, I always set up bread crumbs along the way, though much sturdier stuff than Hansel or Gretel, so I could redirect myself for the inevitability of memory loss if I stepped away too long.

Like with most things, I am setting limits for returning to good habits. I am not a dozen of me and setting myself up for creative paralysis is worse than just limiting what I take on to begin with. I’ve decided that those projects itching to be started will have to wait their turn in notebooks. I’ll do what I can in this life. Concerning myself with what is wasteful is useless, only the pang of regret I’ll have to live with is worth changing. I’ll be gone someday and none of it will matter. 

This is why this one and only life is precious, why I would never devalue anyone’s struggles in theirs. This is it. The nonexistence of death is exactly like before I was born. This life is simply precious for what I can make it and it’s foolish to squander it on what others want for me. I have to wear this skin and feel its pain. If I don’t vouch for what I feel and know, I do not do it justice. There is no grand design. There is simply value in this. Without reason, it is just exquisite and beautiful to feel and think and live for the present. To grow in love and kindness and to feel important. 

To fly off in a fancy of fantasy… and to ground myself again. To dream and to rest and to hope with no promise of anything.

I just want to share my discoveries and ideas and truly make informed choices. With as little distractions and excuses as possible. 

Balance is always the tricky part.

Doll Progress and Stuff

 Trying to write headers when you just want to dump your thoughts a bit… ugh. Just ugh. I never seem to have just a single (or two) topic to write about these days, which is why I miss my old writing and drawing marathons. Although I couldn’t really talk about the pieces themselves, they seemed to inspire me into a tutorial phase or some more focused thoughts.

But for today, I can at least say I feel satisfied. I did some normal things like wake up in the morning and eat meals at semi-normal times. Although I did pick the hottest part of the day to go on a walk in the park, I came back, cleaned up and actually worked on one of my dolls.

This time, I carefully glued 8, um… eye-shaped jewels onto the gold trim around her waist. Lol pointed on the opposite ends, curved to meet them. There is likely a fancier word for them but looking it up to use it would likely send other people into doing the same. I’m still going to look it up later because I’m insanely curious.

Once I did the jewels on the trim, I had some appliqués that I wasn’t quite sure where I wanted them but I held them up along the sides of her pants and they look terrific there. So I used a paintbrush to apply some E6000 glue to the backs of the appliqués. Leaving the pants on the doll and her on a stand, I carefully pressed them to the clothing, making sure it wasn’t soaking through and glueing to the leg. The glue is kind of gummy at this point so probably the perfect stage to avoid that. I’m sure there are areas that will need to be touched up, but I was as thorough as I could be on the edges and the thickest parts of the embroidery. I was going to edge the bottom of the pants with trim and jewels too, but I want to wire some tallish, like half-calf height, anklets so it will overlap that area. So next on her will be decorating the anklets, shoes and touching up the appliqués.

As for the male doll, Maxim, the next step is shaping the EVA foam with a heat gun for his armor pieces. Once those are cooled, I can glue and trim the fabric and start thinking about where I want the rivets and grommets to be. I may do a foam sword for him, but I’m thinking that over. I’d have to design that in layers carefully. I’d like to research real and fantasy swords designs to find something that suits him.

But this is a sort of day I’d like to make more habitual. To do self-care on all levels, mental, physical, emotional, and integrate time for creativity (which also hits some of those levels but also fulfills my need for productivity and meeting goals); this has always been my aim. It’s probably not realistic to frame every day in this ideal way, but that is why I say it’s my aim and not being firm about controlling it.

Being healthy is still a struggle. I’ve been sticking to a reasonable diet, exercise and vitamin habit. I still struggle for energy and stamina but there are marked improvements. Sometimes I just notice a muscle is more prominent in movement, or there’s a little less skin to pinch. I can engage my core better which is always impossible when starting out ( and exercise gurus are really frustrating about not knowing that…)

It’s hard to suck in your gut, let alone tighten ab muscles long out of use. You can’t really ‘feel’ those lats and obliques and abs like they say you can until you’ve gained some strength with the exercises. It all feels pretty gross and vulnerable at first, like everything is slopping around and reluctant to accept it. I don’t just mean that to be the realization of any fat I’m pushing around, but more the limitation in mobility and strength and flexibility.  For one, I’ve always had big thighs and I can try all I like, but my ass will not physically touch my ankle… on my left side. Or I notice I have better balance on one side. It’s not always the dominant side that is more flexible or strong either. The only exercise videos I’ve ever done where the instructor addresses this at all is Tony Horton. I love his videos just because he’ll take time in those long sets to actually explain milestones and unique differences. And once you know to look for them and not be so fixated on the scale or tape measure, you start to relax a bit more and appreciate how you move. Even with yoga, you learn proper form of course, but you start to pay attention and learn which muscles link to others, how to stretch, flex or relax to go deeper into that posture.

I’ve always loved how Terry Crewes would show off his muscle knowledge playfully; you could really admire the knowledge that goes into knowing your muscles that well. And from experience, I can say it feels freaking amazing to start moving every little muscle with real command.

I know for this to be different from last time, to be sustainable, I can’t let it become an obsession. Same with creativity. I will need to set limits and bring each facet of myself into every day as possible. It can’t become a crippling chore. Some days I will be okay with vigorous exercise and rest. Some recovery days will be light exercise and creative marathons. Yet the aim will be days where I’m sampling each in moderation. Being a little militant when I’m indulging too much or a lot more forgiving when I’ve been pushing too relentlessly.

Sometimes I’ll just want to share my progress with all the bits. A focused blog would be nice at some point, but being in a precarious and vulnerable place of change means I’m not in a place to really adhere to that.

Right now, I’m blogging to spare some of my friends and social media the long winded diatribes. Nobody needs that. I can save it for all five people who read this somehow.

Whoever you are, muah! Thanks for the silent support! 

For the Love of Lists

If there’s one thing this past year had taught us, it’s the odd phenomenon of losing touch with things that were second-nature pre-pandemic. The sort of gaping emptiness of my creative drive was no surprise, but the truly shocking one for me was that I stopped making lists. 

In my early twenties, my friend Liz joked that me and her husband were the only people she knew that would carefully flip through game magazines and write down every game we wanted, sometimes in order of priority, sometimes in sections according to platform it was on. I probably took a bit further than he did since sometimes I’d even alphabetize it later. Or go through my whole game library and write those down by platform and alphabetical order.

What can I say? I loved to organize and reorganize in written form. It was less about usefulness or reference, more about satisfying anxiety or chaos.

It wasn’t the lack of anxiety that made lists less appealing. I always go through filtering phases and, optimally, creativity is the most productive and satisfying. I have very little control over which one will grip me and keep me interested. Over time, I’ve gotten better at recognizing destructive habits and filtering them better, but I’ll still go into spending spirals or time-sucking but useless repetitive tasks.

Anyone who says the pandemic didn’t untether their habits quite a bit is full of shit.

Either way, I keep gazing at the projects I’ve let pile up and glare at me from across the room. Or don’t exactly because as much as I love dolls, I don’t like their gazes trained on me or all looking in one direction for that matter. It’s not just a ‘creepy doll’ thing; it’s unnerving when my cats stare at me, when I make eye contact period and especially when someone is staring past you but looks like they’re studying you intensely. I’m straying a lot now, but these PROJECTS, aka dolls, stand in various degrees of completion and I have very slowly and inconsistently made progress.

And tonight… I dug out a notebook and made a list. It’s probably been a month since I’ve made one. That one was called ‘Bag of Monday’ and it was the start of knocking out about five procrastinated goals. And three total bullshit ones that just made me laugh (like, scream at the sun). I made two tonight actually, dully titled ‘MAXIM’ and ‘MENA’, who are my so-called ‘grail dolls’ or my absolute most-coveted dolls. But unlike most thing I do, straight to the point.

I wrote down the types of armor I did templates for, followed by what materials I’ll use and options for decorating. I drew some loose drawings but nothing specific since it’s less helpful in the creative process to be restrained to a set design when I’m not 100% certain. Certainty usually comes with confidence while working with and testing the materials by hand.

His is fairly straightforward. The pieces are cut already, the fabrics laid out, just needed to make simple points so I don’t rush and miss steps relying on a certain order.

Hers is a pain in the ass. It’s all elaborate trim, different gauges of wire, tons of shiny jewelry and dangling chains. Things to set with clips then glue with jewels, drape with fabric. Rings to clamp, wire to twist into shape. Her wig will need beads weaved in, braids carefully plaited, headdress completed. Some steps either get done first or become a pain later. She is layers and details and she’s going to look jaw-droppingly gorgeous (even though her character absolutely despises the rigidity of luxury and perfection).

So I labored through the awkward formation of these lists, both remembering the calm of the task but the tension of task-ordering. And… it feels so normal again. It was like tearing the training wheels off and careening down a steep hill, relying more on gravity to propel you than skill, but the results were anything but a broken heap at the bottom.

I think neglect is an important but frustrating necessity for me. I really have to push too hard, want it too badly, cry because I can’t have it, give up too long and try it again with the cynicism that it’s gone forever to ever hope of getting it back. And like actual famine and hunger, maybe there is a point of no return. I haven’t run into it yet but I always fear it. Maybe that fear has to remain to ensure it’s even possible to restore it. If you can truly say good riddance to a dream, a passion, and never look back, I guess you won’t miss it at all.

Kinda wish my brain worked like that. Sometimes I’ll watch a cooking show and cry over a cat I had that’s been dead for decades. It’s all in there, my life, mostly lost to memory on demand but slamming into the shaky gates at any old time. I don’t shed old dreams. Sure, I don’t want to grow up and be a lifeguard, an archaeologist or a marine biologist anymore but sometimes those facets of myself are reborn through characters I draw or write or craft.

Sometimes the only way to sort these chaotic halls of memory is to make lists.

So welcome back, old friend. You were missed.