For fear of the worst, I never enjoy the best.

For fear of the worst, I never enjoy the best.

I was thirty years old when I had my first child, a beautiful daughter.  At that time I did not know she would be my only one.  I was teaching full time and always had such a hard time leaving her every morning to go to work, even though my husband was working at night so he watched her all day.   Because they spent all day together, they formed a close bond that still exists today.   She is her daddy’s girl, unafraid of life and looking for the next adventure.  My husband is the same way.  On the other hand, I am the opposite of them and I would be perfectly happy if she would go to work then come home and eat jello.  This is a running joke in our family.  I am of the opinion that if you just stay home and eat jello, you will not run the risk of choking and nothing bad will happen to you.  Even though I have improved somewhat, I still have a huge problem with worry.

            I thought I would worry less about her when she became an adult.   I see other parents handling this so much better than me.  Why can’t I just be happy for her when she is off on her next adventure?  She has done more and gone more places in her lifetime than I ever have.  In the past she would take my car since her little truck was unreliable.  I would often joke that my car had been to San Francisco but I had not.   As my title says, I fear the worst in many situations.  Sometimes I beat myself up because I know that fear shows a lack of faith.  In the past I heard that the letters in fear stand for false expectations appearing real.  When I let my mind go, the fear can spread like a wildfire. 

            Well, today my daughter left for a three day trip to Yosemite.  Of course I told her to watch out for bears and stay out of the water because it can be really cold and swift.  Then someone told me the deer could also be dangerous there, so that gave me a new worry.  Jeez!  Like I needed that.  Thank goodness she texted me when she got to the lodge where she and her friend are staying.  I counted the hours until I got that text.  The next day her friend decided to play a joke on me and text a picture in which it looked like my daughter was clinging to a rock, a very high rock.  Her arm was stretched out and her mouth was open like she was yelling.  For a moment I was startled and then my cell phone rang.  It was my daughter telling me it was a joke.  Hmmm…. I was not laughing.  My next text to her friend was,  “You are on really thin ice with me missy!”  You had better watch out if I call you missy or mister.   I know most people only think of the good times they are going to have on vacation, but I am one of those who will also worrry about everything that could go wrong.  My mother and my granddaddy are the same way.  Can worrying be inherited?  I don’t know.  I am blaming them for my problem with worry.

            Thank goodness my family loves me in spite of my problem.   They never worry about anything until it happens.  Oh how I long to be able to face life like that.  My husband always says, “Well, when something happens then I am going to worry.  Until I know anything different, I am going to assume that everything is ok.”  He did not grow up with worriers in his family.  I know that for a fact.  So my lovely daughter is home safe from her trip with no regrets.   She drove all the way there, made all the arrangements for the three days of sightseeing, and got back home without a scratch.  I hope one day that I will be more like her.  Until then, I will stay home an eat jello.   Unfortunately, at this time, for fear of the worst, I still have a problem enjoying the best.  

It's All About the Food, AGAIN!

It’s All About the Food, AGAIN!

     Those of you who know me well have heard me say so many times that I am not a religious person but I consider myself to be very spiritual.  So part of my routine is to read from my Bible as often as I can, which is not every day.  I will be the last one to tell you I do this perfectly.  Many times it is hit and miss.  A few days ago I read in Isaiah 55:2 “Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good.”  Wow, I never saw that before, even though I have read all the way through the Bible completely.  That did not register in my mind the first time.   One of my goals when I started this blog was to put myself out there and hold nothing back.  This is going to be one of the most honest postings I have done yet and I hope you will be patient with me. 

            When I was in elementary school, about in fourth grade, I started to put on weight.  By the time I got to sixth grade I weighed one hundred thirty pounds and was the largest student in the whole school.  By the time I had gotten to high school, I had gained almost fifty pounds more.  Looking back, I can tell you exactly why I was eating but was powerless to stop.  Food was my friend and my comforter, my constant companion.  The irony is that now I know what I ate over all those years ago because I have spent many hours in therapy finding the answer.  So why am I still overeating?  I am in awe of the human body, how it is made up of so many parts that all work together to keep me going every day of my life.  Why don’t I take better care of myself?  I hear this voice in my head saying, “You have been given this amazing body and what have you done with it?”

            I LOVE to cook.  I have loved cooking ever since I stood by my granny as she made delicious food on her wood- burning stove in Kentucky.  Her food was not fancy, but I would take a meal prepared by her over anything I have ever eaten in the fanciest restaurants in California.  Her food was seasoned with love.  Over the years as I have cooked for my family and friends, I have seasoned my food with love.  One Thanksgiving, I decided I was not going to bake my pumpkin pie or pecan pie that year because I was just too pressed for time so I went to the bakery and bought them.  When I served the pies to my family, my daughter looked at me and said, “This pie tastes awful. Mom, I can tell you that there is no love in this pie.”  I have never served them store bought pies again during the holidays. 

            So I guess in my mind, food equals love and I need both things in my life.  Now I just need to remember that I can eat what I cook but I need to get moving more.  My very talented husband once told me that singing was like breathing to him.  I feel like that about cooking.  It is so natural and brings me so much happiness.  It is unreasonable for me to think I can give up cooking, but I need to find the balance between cooking and eating.  I must admit that since my family came to visit I have put on a few pounds.  But it is less than ten so I know I need to do something NOW to get them off before the total goes any higher.  Do I go back to WW and begin again?  I don’t know.  I don’t have the answer.  For today I guess I just pay attention to those words, “Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good.”