tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28032504008808262252024-03-08T13:23:23.923-05:00Steph CampbellStephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-12672362147787095062023-02-26T15:23:00.003-05:002023-02-26T15:23:26.574-05:00<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, I have had my work cut
out for me, this is for sure. If there is anything I hope the ones who read me
take away from me, it’s that preventing the illness might be easier than
reversing it – albeit – not always possible. So, if nothing else, I continue to
hope that my writings reach those who need support and encouragement to never
give up. Seriously, never, ever.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Some days I wonder why I share
so much. Have I just become entertainment, like an intense movie that helps
people distract from their own lives? Am I so desperate to be loved that I will
bare my soul to prove I am a worthy of breathing? Do I simply crave connection?
Maybe a little of all of it? I will never be able to say for sure. But even if
those were the reasons, aren’t they innocent? Don’t you, reading this, also
crave love from time to time? Isn’t connection delicious especially after not
having it for a while?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Regardless of the reasons I
vacillate, there is an unwavering truth that lives inside of me. I believe
having the courage to share our experience, strength, and hope, is what makes
the world go round. Staying quiet about what might help a fellow brother or
sister is akin to refusing to water the thirsty seed, and then calling that
seed a failure. How can anyone or anything grow without some rain?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Even sunshine burns when you
get to much of it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So I bring my rain then sing
and show you how the sun comes out, everytime, after all. And then, it rains
some more, etc… repeat and repeat.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, I write. And I speak. And
I sometimes get called verbose. And I get teased for the texts I write that are
novel like. And I grin and bear it all because I know who I am. I also know the
difference between those who poke fun because they adore me, and “the others.”
I don’t know – the word jackass comes to mind. So, for those of you who don’t
like the lengthy way I express myself, keep on scrolling, or go fuck yourself. Oh,
that’s not anger, consider it more of a happy invitation.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For those of you who my
creative ways seem to touch somehow, hello, again! And do read on!</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Every ounce of energy I have
has been going toward healing this body o’ mine. I am grateful for this surgery
because it saved my ass. I know I’ve said that before, and I will continue to
reiterate the sentiment for all eternity.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My liver was badly affected after
being so sick for so long. What is scary is mine wasn’t even the worst case out
there. I would have been considered mild compared to some people struggling
with this wretched illness. Diabetes takes hold of your insides and demolishes
the life of your organs. The grave danger I was in becomes more and more
apparent with each test I take.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I had severe scarring on my
liver from the non-alcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD) that I unknowingly lived
with for so long. Level 4 is cirrhosis. Mine was between a level 2 and 3. This
was determined by the biopsy I had during my surgery. I then went for a fibro
scan, which suggested I did in fact have non-alcoholic cirrhosis. Then an ultrasound
which also suggested intense scarring and found a lesion on my liver. I have
been working with a liver specialist at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center (BIDMC)
who ordered all of this for me. And my final liver test just happened last week
– I had to have an MRI.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Not only can’t I believe that
BIDMD does not have bigger MRI machines. Like holy, update your imaging
equipment, Batman! I also really got that I would not be a good candidate as
Houdini’s assistant. You know the one he stuffs in a box and puts swords
through? I used to think that would be cool to do – well, thanks to this teeny
tiny tube I was shoved into for 40 minutes of my life – I have erased being a
magician’s sidekick off my bucket list! No thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The MRI confirmed that my
liver will not be the thing that kills me. The lesion was confirmed to be a
hemangioma. Apparently, some of us are born with these little clusters of blood
vessels. I have multiple for some reason along with a few cysts on my liver. But
nothing dangerous. So, it seems I bought myself some more time to try and
figure out my purpose here as together we walk this big blue marble that is
floating in space. My MRI also confirmed that my NAFLD has also vastly improved
– yes, it is on its way to reversing! My blood sugar remains balanced and good as
does my insulin resistance. I still have mild numbing in my belly – but this is
to be expected after the scraping and cutting my surgeon did to remove the
scarring on my stomach wall.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have a few more tests to go
and by the end of April, if all goes well, I can breathe easy and go forth like
a warrior! And this will be just in time for the spring. I will give another
update when all of this has happened. I look good and healthy – which is the
most important thing because we all know that’s it’s not how you feel, it’s how
you look. That is a joke, of course. I really don’t feel much different, to be frank,
then pre-surgery as far as my life goes. I mean, wherever you go, there you
are, despite the skin we wear. Although, I do feel lighter on my feet and it’s
nice to know my pancreas and liver aren’t currently killing me.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This next part of my health
update is a head’s up for my (predominantly) male readers with even a hint of
an antiquated belief system. I am going to talk about the mechanics of my
vagina now so stop here if you must.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One of the other tests performed
on me was a complete pelvic ultra-sound. I began to bleed this past January - just
shy of 1 year of not having a menstrual cycle. Well, my ovaries looked
fantastic! And my uterus looks alright too – so I had a hormone test. Wouldn’t
you know it? I am not in menopause yet! WTF? This in addition to the fact that
estrogen is stored in fat cells. 51 pounds of fat cells have fallen off my
being so my doctor has a hunch this might have been part of the reason. So to
sum it all up, I had a full blown period – yup – seven days long. While all of
my other lady friends have been finished for quite some time now, this body is
still working it all out. I do have a funny story to accompany this news, for
those of you still with me here.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was taking a brisk walk a
week ago Friday. I had my earbuds in which always somehow makes me talk louder.
For those of you familiar with me, I typically, vocally hang out in the high
decibels to begin with. I was talking to a friend and catching them up on my
health while I walked.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was sharing my “can you
believe I’m not in menopause” story with passion – and seemed to have forgotten
I was outdoors. The more passionate I got the louder I spoke.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Can you believe it? I am NOT
in menopause yet! What the f*ck does a 56-year-old woman need a period for? I
mean, if I am ever pregnant again – you have my permission to just take me out
back shoot me in the head and kick me into a ditch.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I continued… and albeit
unintentional, I screamed a phrase that I have I have in fact used before:<br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“… And also, if I do get
pregnant it will be a friggin’ miracle unless my dildo has sperm!!”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, wouldn’t you know it at
that exact moment a handsome gray-haired man passed me walking, and he was NOT
wearing earbuds. I turned white as I realized what he had heard. As he passed
me, on my right, and gained speed, I screamed “OMG, I am so very sorry, sir!”
He turned his head toward me, gave me a cute smile, and continued to walk,
FAST. A head’s up about me. When I am embarrassed or anxious it is not my
instinct to pull back. I, in fact, get louder and go toward the situation. Even
though I really don’t want to do this, I cannot seem to help myself, so far in
my life.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“I’m so sorry! My GOD, I’m so
sorry, sir!”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, not a word. He continued
to walk without consoling me in any way, shape, or form, and I was left with my
horror. I continued to scream “Sorry, sorry, sorry….” Louder and louder. And
then, I stopped. Needless to say my friend and I had a good belly laugh
although mine was mixed with a tiny bit of crying.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, the moral of the story is
–</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When you are walking outside,
you are NOT the only one out there. Just sayin’.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And also – as always – not
only do I hope I brought some lightness and hope to your day. But, for those of
you who are struggling with the same stuff I have been through, please feel
free to reach out. Write me a message and I will help in any way that I can.
Emotionally, physically, what not – I can refer you to lots of people who are
very good at what they do.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is hope. It ain’t over
til’ it’s over. And is it even over then? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One step at a time. One moment
at a time…. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sending all of you my love –
xoxo Steph<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span> </p>Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-16359208200500533362023-01-17T21:42:00.002-05:002023-01-19T21:43:33.813-05:00<p>January 17th, 2012, 1:15pm - 11 years ago today my beautiful mother Geraldine Todesco Campbell departed from this life. </p><p>She was a unique soul who had to navigate her way through a tumultuous and severe mental illness. This was exacerbated by my father's early departure at only 41 years young. Geraldine was funny, smart, intuitive, empathetic, big hearted, generous, hilarious, funny, funny, funny, did I mention funny as HELL? She was caring, wise, and when she was well was deeply remorseful of how her illness affected her three children.</p><p>Recovering and healing from our childhood has been nearly impossible at times. My mother's schizoaffective disorder put me on a path where saving my own soul and learning how to navigate my own internal wounds had to be my priority. So this is what I have dedicated my life to. My commitment to healing and development gave my son a good childhood and ensured him a competant, reliable, and loving mother. It has given my friends and loved ones someone they can rely upon. </p><p>I love my mother. We were never very close, even when she passed on. Although I feel our relationship was as healed as it could be before her death, not having a mother to encourage me and stand by me and love me was incredibly difficult. Over the years some have said to me "you had 'others' who loved you." Although this is true, not having my mother was devastating and there was no way for the 'others' who loved me to make up for this - it was impossible. It was helpful and necessary but life is simply not designed that way. My mother had deep unresolved remorse about this. Now that I am a mother I understand this must have been horrible for her.</p><p>I will speak only for myself but suffice it to say that the trauma my siblings and I incurred was no small feat. It left each of us to bear our own individual cross and also collective. Make no mistake about it, it impacted all of our lives greatly. And if my mother were here she would want all of you to know this. If my mother (and father) were alive they would want me shouting as loudly as possible off the rooftop in order to help other families to know there is support for this out there. </p><p>Mom - if you can hear me - which some days I believe you can and some days I question it - but in the chance you can - I want you to know that I have devoted my life to voicing my healing process in honor of you, and dad. I am a compassionate advocate for mental health awareness and mind/body/emotion healing and awareness. My work is devoted to sharing my story so that anyone who is affected by any kind of mental illness (by either having it or living with someone else with it) have the information they need in order to get help and have the chance to have a good life. I share my story of sickness into health with unabashed passion and generosity, because of you.</p><p>You are the reason for my story and I will always speak of you with love and tenderness and understanding. Even on the days that I still struggle.</p><p>I hope wherever you are today you are smoking up a storm and sitting at the kitchen table in the great beyond drinking coffee galore. </p><p> </p><p>I love you with all of my heart.</p><p>All my love - Steph xoxo</p><div>#MentalHealthAwareness<br />#MentalHealthMatters<br />#MentalHealthForAll<br />#GetHelp<br />#HelpIsAvailable<br />#YouCantDoItAlone</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA9VYvXkaZC0kkuCKntPXEyQ1WIH4zDDn3IT9LM_w0wQYU2vk6m2-yRaRqs6CQGMugOcfgw2obfJNZeCQ7XnuYBwmpfLfoGE8ImfIJqfnUYfp9mAK59T04UZSwWW98LRYMR6zBWmWbD6HVAWuj5xp5WXa36vhHJHaccvEb863bT9itpL1hIImg461C/s393/325411022_703326167919978_5252227591262512147_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA9VYvXkaZC0kkuCKntPXEyQ1WIH4zDDn3IT9LM_w0wQYU2vk6m2-yRaRqs6CQGMugOcfgw2obfJNZeCQ7XnuYBwmpfLfoGE8ImfIJqfnUYfp9mAK59T04UZSwWW98LRYMR6zBWmWbD6HVAWuj5xp5WXa36vhHJHaccvEb863bT9itpL1hIImg461C/s393/325411022_703326167919978_5252227591262512147_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXOJERpYx0sn-0-0Y5W1s27uqA2gYQvcCrPXQnAToEZAwMBR8t2vAKQZM-PxAUTiIR1hPn0UdkeHvs4H5cFSnnmJ7mIa7XxIIG67C9xqLljZApgnSlrCk4vAPvC55kd_aMKWgySLuL6bchir3d1aNS6CbZv6VhwPHgUk9C3OJeJuBEFb8py4igh8u/s1284/Screenshot%202023-01-17%20at%208.34.14%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1284" data-original-width="1284" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkXOJERpYx0sn-0-0Y5W1s27uqA2gYQvcCrPXQnAToEZAwMBR8t2vAKQZM-PxAUTiIR1hPn0UdkeHvs4H5cFSnnmJ7mIa7XxIIG67C9xqLljZApgnSlrCk4vAPvC55kd_aMKWgySLuL6bchir3d1aNS6CbZv6VhwPHgUk9C3OJeJuBEFb8py4igh8u/w255-h255/Screenshot%202023-01-17%20at%208.34.14%20PM.png" width="255" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><img border="0" data-original-height="393" data-original-width="393" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA9VYvXkaZC0kkuCKntPXEyQ1WIH4zDDn3IT9LM_w0wQYU2vk6m2-yRaRqs6CQGMugOcfgw2obfJNZeCQ7XnuYBwmpfLfoGE8ImfIJqfnUYfp9mAK59T04UZSwWW98LRYMR6zBWmWbD6HVAWuj5xp5WXa36vhHJHaccvEb863bT9itpL1hIImg461C/w195-h195/325411022_703326167919978_5252227591262512147_n.jpg" width="195" /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicKOGcw_O9ztwJBZ-3k5sILievfF3SK3YyPpi4_7XRyT8SbnMCr-v_Zcbh4fo0mTtNqzG68l8mmxTCP7BFzcG696riIOehsYZfJMex_cm4zAdMIkdr_BMnBxhRs2k3yQJN-IjiaRbZcyz0-c5UsJOP04KJdA4cEFZE_Zs6oeOKRJWaPtG1ASa2sGDP/s960/325734034_885888409128014_6643571002692875631_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="698" data-original-width="960" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicKOGcw_O9ztwJBZ-3k5sILievfF3SK3YyPpi4_7XRyT8SbnMCr-v_Zcbh4fo0mTtNqzG68l8mmxTCP7BFzcG696riIOehsYZfJMex_cm4zAdMIkdr_BMnBxhRs2k3yQJN-IjiaRbZcyz0-c5UsJOP04KJdA4cEFZE_Zs6oeOKRJWaPtG1ASa2sGDP/s320/325734034_885888409128014_6643571002692875631_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-35008826607388455872014-01-12T22:12:00.001-05:002014-01-12T22:14:48.678-05:00Excerpt from Chapter Five of my upcoming book "Stuffing Myself Silly: The Story of a Food Junkie" <div style="border-bottom: solid #4F81BD 1.0pt; border: none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 4.0pt 0in;">
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Chapter Five<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">But My Belly Gets Cold When I Sit in the Tub </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">When
asked what he wanted from life, he said, I'll start</span> </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-size: 11pt;">with
a written apology.” - B. Tier</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“Steph, you
have a homework assignment this week,” said my therapist. “We want to work on changing your
relationship with food by creating some new coping skills. We’re going to do this by changing some of
your behaviors. Go and think about
things you can use, other than food, to soothe yourself. Jot down some tools you can have on hand to
self-soothe in the middle of intense </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">feelings. Think of something that is healthier and more
productive than food. A bath
perhaps.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Well, I
thought. I contemplated and I researched.
I went back the next week and told her, “Kate, there’s nothing. I cannot find one thing that works better
than food. Food is it. I’m not trying to be difficult, it’s just the
way it is for me.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">But just to
test it out I took a friggin’ bath and guess what? I barely fit!
I had three mountains in front of me: my breasts and my Mount Rushmore –
like belly. And it was cold. My belly was cold. My body was submerged in the water, except
for my freezing cold belly. It wasn’t
fun or self-soothing. Would you be
“soothed” if you felt like a canned sardine in your bathtub? No, you’d be reminded that you were really
fat. Then you might eat a Big Mac to
“soothe” yourself, like I did. The moral
of this story is that behavior modification is crap, period. It’s like putting a Band-Aid on a piece of
shit. It’s still shit and it still
stinks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-14954559458194211992013-10-20T17:06:00.000-04:002013-10-20T17:21:18.338-04:00"Even Though" by Steph Campbell - 5/17/2010<br />
I have a good life.<br />
<br />
I have an amazing son who is developing and growing more miraculously than I'd ever dreamed he would. I take little credit. He is his own grower. Even though most of the time my mind tells me I am personally responsible for nearly everything that comes out of that beautiful mouth of his. That I am accountable for all the movements he makes and choices he pursues. Even though this mind has staked my life on a one way silent agreement with God that he live a long, healthy and prosperous life - even though - he has his own path, his own way to make, his own thoughts. He is his own grower.<br />
<br />
I have a good life.<br />
<br />
I have a roof over my head, money to pay my bills, a plethora of friends and love and family. I have a voice that sings, music in my heart, and food in my belly.<br />
<br />
I have a good life.<br />
<br />
I can see and hear and my limbs work fine. I can sit then stand I can breathe then hold my breath. I have survived several wars of the mind and heart. I have even died a thousand emotional deaths only to resurrect again and again and again. I have a brother and sister whom I adore. When I think of them tears come to my eyes. The complete and utter love that I have for them gives me goose bumps.<br />
<br />
I have a good life.<br />
<br />
Filled with wondrous children. I get to hold them and hug them and kiss them and watch their little egos burst into life. I get to coddle them and tell them how precious they are. I get to see them buck authority and collapse into their parents ideas. I get to watch them as they attempt to figure out which path to go, even though - there is no need to figure anything out. I get to witness them not know this yet.<br />
<br />
I have a good life.<br />
<br />
And even though my life is miraculous in so many ways, I can still see... that part. It lingers. I feel it today. It still drives the boat some of the time. Even though my life unfolds as it will, and it's pretty good. I suffer still sometimes. I sense the unhealed part of me all of the sudden. Out of nowhere it comes and out of nowhere it will go back to once I've paid it the respect it tells me it deserves. The empty part of this mind that decided life has no purpose. The day the mind told me "there is no God."<br />
<br />
I suddenly remember the day it happened. You know what I'm talking about, we have many days like this as the mind moves on through time and space. When the carpet is pulled from beneath us and suddenly we've changed. Oh I remember it well. The decision that I was to take care of the world. I was a caretaking trainee. The decision that this was my only role, purpose. Otherwise, there was no purpose to life, there couldn't be after this devastating day.<br />
<br />
Fifteen years old. I stood in the family line up while the visitors waited to pass on to us their heartfelt condolences. Most of them in shock and pretending not to be. The line was at least a mile long down main street. The Amici Funeral home was now his residence and tomorrow the ground and the dirt would be his new humble abode. The visitors came one by one and there I stood next to my barely making it schizo-effective mother - she was everyone's concern. "Take care of your mother Steph" the visitors would whisper as they hugged me and moved onto whomever was standing next to me. My little brother and sister got to swim that day. I was older though, and needed to brave it.<br />
<br />
"Make sure your mother is okay Steph", "Take care of your mother Steph", "Your mother needs you Steph."<br />
<br />
It became a mantra that day. For two days straight this went on. For two days as I watched the pale white cold body lay there in a shiny wooden box. A body that just three days ago I called Daddy. How odd that we all gather and visit and laugh and hug and talk while the cold pale body stuffed with chemicals just passively lay in the corner in the box that will have dirt thrown on it.<br />
<br />
Finally, I've made it through. It is now 8:50 pm, ten minutes until my freedom. My jaw aches from smiling and holding back tears. My mind agreed with the visitor's - I could not cry because I needed to be strong for my mother. So for two days I did not cry. I stood stoic next to this woman who - my mind told me -needed me. Finally I go to kneel with my Daddy, I touch his arm. I notice the part of the box that is propped open. This part will close tomorrow and I will never see his body again, except for in my mind. For a moment I realize that this is the only place I see body's anyways.. dead or alive, in my mind, but my ego is not ready to accept this deep reality, so I push it away. Ahhh.. Daddy, his nose ... that long chiseled Irish nose. The one that turned red after a six pack or two. I touch his hand. It's so cold. I kneel and visit for two minutes and then I break down crying. And here come the adults. Six of them swoop me up and pull me outside. My mind panics, internally I scream... "noooooooooooo!!!! I want to see my Daddy! I want to see him before the box closes forever. Don't take me, let me cry, let me scream!!" Externally, I oblige. Too tired to resist, exhausted from taking care of my mother. I just let them take me. And outside their thoughts become clear.<br />
<br />
"You'll be stronger for this Steph", Honey, don't cry, it will be okay", "Steph, you have to pull it together, especially for your mother." "Okay" I say. And then before I know it the box is closed and the dead, cold body that I use to call Daddy has dirt thrown in its face.<br />
<br />
Even though my life is good. Even though... I see a part of me that believes there is no purpose. I have no purpose. No matter how many of my loved ones see me as good and wonderful. No matter how many people I hug, hold and help. No matter how many rays of sunshine hit my face, a part of me died that day. A part of me that needed to grieve and needed to understand but wasn't allowed to. My mind did not allow me to. Instead of going inside and staying with myself and holding myself myself and listening to my very own stories of grief I went outside. I left myself cold and tried to make my mother warm. And I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried, I could not save her.<br />
<br />
Even though I am still here and I smile and laugh so hard and love so big, a part of me has been dead. Purposeless. Resigned. A part of me layed down with my Daddy and stayed with him. Didn't let go. I gave up. I couldn't make sense out of the body that I thought was him, just laying there. It didn't make sense that once the box closed and locked I would never see him again. <br />
<br />
I have a good life.<br />
<br />
Even though I buried my dreams that day. Even though my chances of thriving were nil to nothing that day. Even though my life took a drastic 180 degree turn that day. Even though... I still stand. I am still here.<br />
<br />
My mind is pounding me with thoughts... and even though... I still hear myself say... Is any of this really true? Can I know for sure that any of these thoughts are really true? No, I can't ever know anything for sure.<br />
<br />
I look back and see all the things I ate over. I am able to sit with myself as I notice my hardened grief. Deep grief that is ready to dissipate. Grief that is ready to go back to nothingness, nowhere. Grief that I thought this fat and food protected me from for many years. I am now grateful for the fat and the food. It got me through when I didn't know a better way. I have been able to create amazing things with my mind and life because of this fat and food. I will never regret it or reject it. I honor it, thank it. Even as it transitions out of my life, I watch it go with reverence, NEVER with dismay or disgust. There is nothing bad or wrong about this fat or food addiction. Nothing. It is God too. And I will not ever disrespect it. Or if I do, I will come to my senses as quickly as I can. Thank you fat and food. Thank you.<br />
<br />
I have a good life... even though.<br />
<br />Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-11963988487999129832013-04-05T10:07:00.001-04:002023-01-17T20:28:52.495-05:00Professional singer"Steph's a professional singer" <br />
<br />
Boasted a proud friend as she introduced me to a woman she was chatting with. It was opening night of the spring musical at my son's high school. Little did I know that the dagger eyes that were about to scope me up and down with a look of disgust was in fact the mother of the female leading role.<br />
<br />
I walked up to tell my friend how wonderful her son was as the leading role. She modestly thanked me and quickly turned the attention away to "the woman." It quickly became clear to me that (for lack of a better phrase) the "mother of the bride" was intent on sucking up all the praise of the moment. I understood my friend's dilemma and went with the flow.<br />
<br />
"Oh your daughter was great! You must be very proud."<br />
<br />
Not even a smile. She turned her head slightly and looked at me through the corner of her eye with a hate that although familiar I had not felt in many years. Me being who I am moved in closer determined to have her like me. For some reason I still become stunned when I meet rude people in this world. Okay okay, I am not saying that I cannot be a raging beeee-atch when the moment seemingly calls for it. With that said, the only thing I was guilty for at that moment was complimenting her daughter. And after the woman reluctantly said "hello" and "thank you" back to me, my friend implented her boast. I could see it all over "the woman's" face. "A professional singer?" as she looked around in an attempt to find the "pro" that she was just informed about. My friend, with her pointer finger, led "the woman's gaze smack dab right at me. Again, I got "the look" from her eye's corner! And that is when the stabbing pain shocked my system inflicted by her harsh and judgmental gaze. Well, at first I thought she was the reason and then I started to inquire.<br />
<br />
I mean granted I was unkept last night. My hair thrown up in a messy bouffant, I had my slightly ripped comfy sweater hidden by my black shawl. And okay I was wearing my bright pink Crocs. But could that be it? She was questioning the possibility that I had golden pipes because of the way I was dressed? Maybe I should have worn a little more make up but sheesh I had lip gloss on! Then it hit me, I'm fat. Last night she saw me as an unkept fat person and clearly could not stand this. <br />
<br />
I hated her for a second. I gave her "the look" right back and incringed on her personal space just a tiny bit more. As I moved in for the emotional kill she actually turned her head completely away from me. Blatant rejection! She twisted the knife. <br />
<br />
I quickly came to my senses and did what I have been in training, for many years now, to do. I ask one out of the several questions that cuts right to the chase "Where am I agreeing with her?"<br />
<br />
I examinded my day. I woke up, took my son to school and then off to the races. Little did "the woman" know that I had been going straight through since 6:30 am. Most of the day was spent sitting with human beings in great amounts of suffering. Listening, loving and helping them question their minds back to peace and freedom. I suppose she overlooked the fact that although my son has a good father, I have done my part in raising him, for the past 15 years, all alone. I live far away from my family and it was impossiblt to move back home again due to circumstances that I wouldn't dare bore her with. It was obviously, to her, a mute point that the way I cope sometimes when I feel overwhelmed or scared or tired is to stuff my face silly - with food. Have I gotten better at it? Sure, but it's a battle most of the time. I was too tired to look better. I am still not very good at taking care of myself before taking care of the world. Her look reminded me that this is not a noble habit, I am not proud of it, but none-the-less it is still sometimes my reality. It was now 10:30 pm and I was fantasizing about falling into my bed but before doing so I needed to pull the knife out of my heart so that it did not go any deeper into my chest when I fell into sleep.<br />
<br />
<br />
Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-30707326276608737032012-07-17T23:47:00.001-04:002023-01-17T20:28:52.535-05:00I don't love where I live. No offense to the Berkshire natives - but frankly, it's just not for me. It's a beautiful place to visit. And it is especially wondrous if your companion is a "au natural, crunchy granola" nature. However; when the personality you reside with craves city lights and angry cab drivers, a plethora of eccentric people and smog filled air - living in the western part of Massachusetts is a bitch. <br />
<br />
I stayed to create peace for my son. Well... and myself too, I must be honest. It was not easy to do, but I had to face that raising my boy took precedence over my hunger to fill my desires. I won't bore you with the details - but suffice it to say I avoided a very nasty custody battle by looking on the outside like a conformist - you know the one who "lost". I didn't want to risk losing my son - not even it meant a small percentage of a possibility that it could happen. I just wouldn't do it. He was born here, we started out as a family here and I was staring the cold hard truth in the face - I was stuck here for a while. I always knew I would give my life for my kid - but when this day happened - when I folded my dreams like clean laundry, put them in a storage chest to keep in the attic and locked the door - it became very clear that I loved my son in a way I had never loved before. <br />
<br />
As a mother, taking the back burner becomes a part of life. As a mother who does not always know how to balance taking care of you and taking of me, life is excruciating at times.Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-8744675303307317682012-07-11T16:46:00.000-04:002012-07-11T17:22:56.098-04:00Nacho Cheese Doritos<span class="goog_qs-tidbit goog_qs-tidbit-0">
</span><br />
<span class="goog_qs-tidbit goog_qs-tidbit-0"><em><b>"Food is the most overused anti-anxiety drug in America" -
Bill Philips</b></em></span><br />
<br />
<span class="goog_qs-tidbit goog_qs-tidbit-0">I guess Mr. Bill thinks he knows a thing or two about food addiction, huh? What he says is true, and I promise this quote will not inspire anyone to change. At least not the mind of a food junkie.<br />
<br />
I used to sit in my living room and eat <em>nacho cheese flavored Doritos</em>
after bringing my Mother to Butler Memorial Hospital for the umpteenth time. I
remember how alone I felt. <br />
<br />
I would get home after the drive - of course this was after being pulled out
of algebra class (or whatever the class du jour was) by our principal telling me
that I had a telephone call waiting for me in the office. He would stare at me
with sad eyes and say in a sympathetic tone "it's your Mom." I would
walk down the MHS corridor taking deep breaths knowing that although there was
a plethora of scenario's that could unfold during this call - one thing was for
certain - my mother was very sick and I needed to bring her to the hospital - again. <br />
<br />
First I would go home and pack a bag for her. Getting her in the car was
usually a cinch because when the hospital became necessary, it meant she had
dropped from her manic high and hallucinations to the bowls of deep depression
and hallucinations. She was like a child at this point, so leading her to the
seat and buckling her in was easy. The drive was always interesting. She was
usually not speaking to me because she thought I was my father coming back to
life to hurt or even kill her. I look like my Dad so in a psychotic state I can see how this
might happen. She would vacillate between staring at me and huddling in the
corner turning away from me in fright. I knew what was happening, so I didn't
pay much mind to it. My goal was to make sure her door was locked, keep her
safe and get her to a place where the white coats could balance her chemistry
with mind numbing pills and "care" for her. Up the elevator - into
the psych ward - signed the intake papers and vouila! Mission accomplished. Our
mother is gone - again - estimated leave; approximately 2 weeks to a month. It's
funny to me how nobody ever questioned why a 16 year old was continually
checking her mother into a psych ward - <em>and not in the "ha ha"
kind of way.</em> <br />
<br />
I arrive at 157 Central Street, finally, home sweet home. I have a few
hours before my brother and sister get home. A time of respite for me before I
have to tell them that I - once again - will be there mother for the next 2 to
4 weeks. I don't know how we kept it all straight - <em>mother for 2-4 weeks,
sister for 2-6 months, repeat as necessary.</em> Three hours of vacation time
before the end of school - bell rings and they come trampling in wanting
snacks, needing food, desperate for attention, love and care and a real
mother - although they would never admit it. I cut my rest short and go to
Fernandes to shop for the dinner I will be cooking for all of us. Chicken,
pasta, broccoli - and there they are. I hear a choir of angels sing the Alleluia
Chorus in perfect pitch, I see reds and yellows and letters in black, my heart
races, and the chemicals start to shift in my brain, I finally see the first
bit of relief that I have had in a week's time... <em>NACHO CHEESE FLAVORED
DORITOS</em>. I plot my escape. After all it's been an exhausting seven
days. Watching her fly like an eagle on a high that I can only dream about and
then waiting and watching while she goes through her undoing - she is God, Jesus, thinks she has
the cure for aids, now she can fly ... waiting... watching...
counting her meds.... making sure she doesn't hurt herself... and then finally -
THE DROP - the depression that never fails to follow the manic.<br />
<br />
I get home, put away the groceries, clean up the house, make sure it
resembles a warm home for my siblings and I still have 45 minutes to myself!! I
sit in the flowered oversized chair, pick up the remote control, its The Brady
Bunch, PERFECT!! I lovingly unscrew the bottle to my Yahoo, rip open my faux cheese
friends and ... Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Now I can do it! Now I have what it takes to raise this family! I don't feel so alone
anymore. I hide them for later. When he and she are finally sleeping safely,
lunches are made and dishes are washed - my love affair will continue. <br />
<br />
I ate Nacho Cheese Flavored Doritos smack dab right into obesity. But you
know what? They never let me down - I <em>always</em> had something to look forward to. <br />
<br />
I don't condone junk food or obesity. And I don't judge it either. One step
at a time, we are all learning, each of us laden with our own personal struggles. We are
all desperate to know that separation and loss is not true. We cross our
fingers and hope that our vision really is limited on this trip. That just maybe there is something more that awaits us when the body drops, possibly an even greater story will be thought. I continue to
learn to see beauty in all people. In all body shapes and sizes. There is just no way for me to
know what your path of unfolding is. <br />
<br />
<em><b>"Don't judge a person until you've walked a mile in their shoes.
And you never know what someone's starting point is." </b></em><br />
<br />
<em><b>xoxoxoxo Steph</b></em><br />
<br />
</span><br />
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</span>Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-79131588956730953362012-04-17T14:30:00.001-04:002023-01-17T20:28:52.714-05:00Another Excerpt from Upcoming Book - Chapter 8 - "My Very Long Vacation from God" <span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I sat in church unable to cry the day after the funeral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The church was empty, and I sat, three pews back, staring up at the 12-foot hanging crucifix and following the details of this statue with my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gazed for what seemed like hours at the thorns digging into Jesus’s skull, the drops of blood running down his calm face, the cloth sheath that only covered his genitals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I noticed the forgiveness in the eyes of this man-made sculpture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wished I could talk to Jesus in that moment because I had so many questions to ask him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Earlier that morning my Mother asked me to go to the store and get some milk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She told me to grab five dollars from her purse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I shuffled through the papers and such I came across the letter I wrote to Dad, unopened and forgotten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I flipped out; this was my only means of saving him last week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The letter clearly told him to listen to the doctors and get to Mass General and I believed in all of my innocence that I failed to save him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course I blamed my mother for this too—if only she’d listen to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was my first encounter with true powerlessness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I trusted God for all of this time and look what happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all went wrong and I made a vow to myself while staring at my mother’s illness muse—Jesus Christ—that this would never happen again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I changed that day in the empty church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Free spirited Stephie” was now “Don’t fuck with me Steph.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took some time to take this persona on completely because I had to retrain the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She eventually succeeded in taking over. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was controlling, vengeful; she was in a personal war with life and ultimately God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was too young to understand she was really at war with herself and herself only.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little did she care—the chip on her shoulder was enormous and she would fill that baby with enormous amounts of food and abuse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father gave me purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to make him proud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was far from perfect, but in spite of his deep dark shadow, he was my support system and all I felt I had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew I was going places when he was alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was an avid pray-er up until my Father’s death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every night I prayed and was filled with such love because of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Lord’s Prayer, Hail Mary and the Act of Contrition each night like clockwork.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then came “please bless…” and the list went on for 20 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to include everyone; I slept best when I remembered everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along with my loved ones, this also included all “the poor people, homeless, sick, well, etc., all people I didn’t know and just to cover my ass “anyone I’d forgotten.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I brought it home with “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My relationship with God was beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It got me through the nightmare, all the episodes with my Mother, and the abandonment from her and my Father when he would leave us to go to the bars and then come home drunk and violent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew God was there for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was nicknamed “The free spirit.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My family knew better than to ask me to be organized and practical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They saw the budding idealist/optimist in me, and I wouldn’t let them touch it, and Dad was around to make sure it wasn’t touched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt protected when he was alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I overlooked his flaws and he was my knight in shining armor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then he wasn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I saw them take the suit out of the house on the day of his wake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The handsome pin striped suit and blue tie and wing tipped Italian leather shoes right out my front door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The clothes that were filled with my father’s form just a couple weeks earlier at a family wedding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw them hold the suit that would now be his burial attire, and it broke me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What God would do this to my family and me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How will I ever go on?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How will I live, how will I thrive?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Daddy come back—this God you taught me to believe in has betrayed me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-72400053704267124872012-04-17T12:30:00.000-04:002012-04-17T12:30:15.363-04:00Excerpt from upcoming book.... Chapter 6 - "I Don't Think So..."<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s the ninth day of the vipassana retreat. I have spoken no words, made no eye contact, nor have I so much as touched another living soul. I have sat still with the sensations in this body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have learned to visit the tightness in my neck and legs and be with it as it is not as I’d like it to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I take off the generous clothes that have <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>embraced me all day and slip into my favorite pink-and-white flowered nightgown faded and torn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gather my toothbrush and face wash, stored in my stark, barren single bed room, and I walk across the hallway to the bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There I prepare to retire for the evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has been a long journey, worth it none-the-less. I look in the mirror and there she is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The face I have seen reflected back to me for the past 41 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever changing, growing older for sure, but the same eyes staring back at me, the same soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am humble and my ego is on sabbatical. I take the rubber band out of my hair and run my fingers down my skull to release the tension of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, suddenly, I see. Can this be true? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My jaw drops, I furl my brow, getting as close as I can to the mirror in front of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I struggle, fade in and out of denial. They must be blonde. NO, it can’t be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>TWO FRIGGIN’ GRAY HAIRS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without giving it a second thought, I put my left hand on my left hip, stand up straight, cock my head to the right, curl my left upper lip, and break my hard earned silence with four of the most powerful words to ever leave my lips—“I DON’T THINK SO.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Up comes the right hand, finger and thumb in a serious tweezers like position and then—yank, yank—gone like yesterday. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>W</span><a href="" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">hat gray hair?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-66074332600504873652012-04-05T22:18:00.001-04:002012-04-05T22:18:44.415-04:00Stuffing Myself Silly - The Story of a Food Junkie: "These Kinds Of Days"<a href="http://stuffingmyselfsilly.blogspot.com/2012/04/these-kinds-of-days.html?spref=bl">Stuffing Myself Silly - The Story of a Food Junkie: "These Kinds Of Days"</a>: I've been stuffing myself silly again. Yes, it it true. Food is a way of both punishment AND pleasure for me. I have watched and lear...Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-31863378149567700822012-04-05T21:58:00.012-04:002012-04-05T22:18:07.880-04:00"These Kinds Of Days"<div><br />
I've been stuffing myself silly again. <br />
<br />
Yes, it it true. Food is a way of both punishment AND pleasure for me. I have watched and learned of all the ways it is punishment and pain. I am currently living these results. I was not so aware of the immense pleasure that I use it for as a substitute for life, beauty and joy. And is seems to have certainly gone awry. Love and joy gone awry.</div><br />
<div>I haven’t stopped eating badly. But I have added some raw foods again. I don’t want to sugarcoat (pardon the pun) my current process however; so I would like to just say a bit about how I have seen me use it as pleasure.</div><br />
I am bored off my fucking rocker here! I hate it here! I have been people pleasing and adjusting and complying with and for other people my entire life. Most recently - and I mean recent like the last fifteen fucking years – has been my ex. He has just pulled another massive, violating act of control and smug arrogance on me. I will spare you all of the monotonous details.<br />
<br />
<div>Just today I was running my head off – trying to share coaching with people, nursing my sick 13 year old - whose been on the couch for three days - back to health. And getting ready to leave for a long weekend to be with my family. I have not showered in three days. I have been wearing the same clothes for two days, I had to go to the laundry mat because I don’t have a washer/dryer I have severe PMS and I am exhausted – oh and did I mention my mother’s dead and sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind? And on top of it all my ex has been a fucking jerk. I mean, no compassion, staunch, rude, cruel asshole. I’m not blind to the fact that I am in fact being exactly what I have accused him of being by the very act of writing what I just wrote about him. But I don’t care.<br />
<br />
</div><div>Today I went to Guido's to shop. I bought a small container of warm barbecue brisket they had on special at the hot bar. I got a whole wheat bun and I made love to that baby the whole twenty minute ride back to my home. It was such a warm, delicious beautiful break in my exhausting, boring, self-neglectful, sad, desperate and misunderstood day. I had nothing to give, but I had a whole bunch more people to give to. The brisket helped me to forget about how much I used to love to do my hair and put on my make up with out missing a beat. My fall Stiletto heals or my summer wedges that would dress my feet and scream “that’s right, I’m alive, and happy and ready for my dreams!” The brisket going down my throat – the taste of the salt and sweet and the way it just pulled apart like butter – effortless – no resistance, it didn’t fight me once. It didn’t blame the disturbing quirks of life on me. It helped me to forget about the stage and the theatre and my singing and the guitar I haven’t touched in three months. It camouflaged my deep grief over my absent, abusive, desperate, beautiful, schizoid-effective dead Mother. And it helped me believe the lies that I tell myself on "these kinds of days" that still visit me once in a while. The lies about how I am trapped and stuck and old and ugly and fat and worthless. </div><br />
<div>It mostly gave me the pleasure I long for. It gave me such deep and satisfying pleasure – unfounded, crazy, from my head to my toes, unearned, easy, warm, pleasure. I felt touched and sexual and wanted and I felt beautiful and like I had my hair done and my make up on and like I was dressed to the nines going to a rehearsal for MY show, MY singing, MY book, MY life, MY way, MY TERMS. MY MY MY MY MY MY. For twenty minutes I had that.</div><br />
<div>Until my blood sugar spiked, I got sick to my stomach, my mouth turned dry, I felt tired and cranky and my bones hurt. It turned on me, again.</div><br />
<div>But it was worth the twenty minutes. Especially since I don’t ever get that again until the next time. And the time after that. And the time after that. And = a more than chubby, maybe even obese, diabetic digging her grave with a knife and fork. <br />
<br />
</div><div></div><div>This is how she lives on "these kinds of days."<br />
<br />
</div><div></div><div>Thanks for listening.</div><br />
<div>Love and Hugs..</div><br />
<div>xoxo</div><div></div><div>Steph</div>Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-56346231641746500632011-03-21T22:30:00.010-04:002011-03-21T22:55:00.578-04:00Raw Living Foods and the Work of Byron Katie Workshop<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Haven Café and Bakery Presents a Workshop: </span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #76923c; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #76923c; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Living Raw Foods and “The Work of Byron Katie” </span></b><b><span style="color: #31849b; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">with Steph Campbel</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Thursday Evening March 31<sup>st</sup>, 2011</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">6:30pm – 9:30 pm</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">$25</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">HavenCafé and Bakery</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">8 Franklin Street</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Lenox, MA 01240</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We will cover:</span></b><br />
<ul type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="color: #76923c; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Green Smoothie recipe and<br />
demonstration.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="color: #76923c; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A delicious living raw food<br />
treat and demonstration so you can see how simple it really is.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="color: #76923c; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">How living raw foods can<br />
support you in your health and enhance your quality of life.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="color: #76923c; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Emotional eating and food<br />
addiction.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="color: #76923c; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">An introduction to The Work of<br />
Byron Katie.</span></b><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This class is for YOU if:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are looking to go completely raw or simply want to add more fruits,<br />
vegetables and healthy foods to your diet. It will be fun, easy and informative. </span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #76923c; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Please R.S.V.P. if you would like to come: 413.394.4200 or sign up at Haven!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Space is limited.</i></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: black;"><br />
</span> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: red; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="color: #76923c; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">On May 10<sup>th</sup>, 2010 I drove to Union City Michigan and embarked on a massive lifestyle<br />
change. I had Severe Type II diabetes, high cholesterol levels, dangerously high triglyceride levels, low HDL (good cholesterol), Gastro Esophageal Reflux Disorder, painful menstrual cycles accompanied by severe PMS, arthritic joint pain, muscle pain, Candida, high inflammation, high blood pressure and fatty liver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Ph balance<br />
was so low that the director of CHI asked me if I had ever gone through chemo<br />
therapy. </span></b><span style="color: black;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="color: #76923c; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I attended a 21 day program at The Creative Health Institute in Union City Michigan and took on the living raw foods lifestyle. By the end of the program my health crisis<br />
was completely reversed accompanied by a total weight loss of 25 pounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also witnessed people with much more traumatic illnesses than my own recover.</span></b><span style="color: black;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="color: #76923c; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My healing journey did not begin with my body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a graduate of “The School for the Work” of Byron Katie. I am profoundly clear that this is not a physical process, it’s all about mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My body is taking care of itself as I take care of my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t until I whole heartedly listened to my heart with compassion and understanding that I was able to begin authentic nourishment with this body.</span></b><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="color: #76923c; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You’re story may not be this dramatic. Or it may be even more devastating. Wherever you are at, the time to start is right here, right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The timing is perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no affiliation to The Creative Health Institute or Byron Katie International. I do not receive commissions from them nor have they asked me to do this. They have generously aided me in the process of healing and my only intention it to pass it on.</span></b><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="color: #76923c; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">To this day I continue to experience excellent health.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My weight loss has continued and I feel better than I did in my early twenties.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><span style="color: black;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div><span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #ead1dc; font-size: x-small;"></span></div>Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-11514397549251543752010-06-27T15:43:00.000-04:002010-06-27T15:43:18.050-04:00LoveI should tell myself that I love myself when I find victory. When I have succeeded and done a good job. When I am in alignment with life, when I have been kind, honest and loyal, I should tell myelf that I love myself. And when I have failed... when I have been sloppy, messy, unpredictable and unprepared. When I have made a mess out of life, my mind and my relationships... I should tell my self I love myself even more.<br />
<br />
My food continues to be on track. I have lost 55 lbs. total. My blood sugar has been a little up and down, but still I have no diabetes. Even when it's a little up it is not in diabetic range and I know exactly what to do to correct that. Candida is almost gone. PH is still lingering at about 6.5. My heart rate resting at 76. I am dancing again! I move my body often. I intend to start running again in the not too distant future. For now I dance, walk and rebound.<br />
<br />
My EED (Egoic Eating Disorder) takes me hostage now and again still, but I am so privvy to it. I see it crucify me now. You know when I am with others... either in a group or with another individual, I know my purpose. I feel the love, the connection. Then I am home and alone and it's a very very bad neighborhood in this head. The committee starts in. I am very confident and find great peace however in the knowing that this is in fact very much here for me. The whole set up is here for me. I am alone a good 75 to 80 percent of the time. This has occurred for awhile now. Not a coincidence at all. It is forcing me, helping me, guiding me to sit. Sit in the dark, the quiet as I get to know this mind. It has been treacherous. It has been unbearable at times... and it's working.<br />
<br />
My "EED" bashes me contantly. I see now this may be with me on this trip until the end. As Byron Katie says "When I believe my thoughts I suffer, when I don't believe my thoughts, I don't suffer" ... So I do the work so the thoughts can move on. I see them in my mind, hear them in the wind, feel them on my skin and when I don't inquire I suffer and badly. I can't move in those moments. I want to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head. I can't move. Then I sit. I sit and listen. I sit and listen and watch. And it happens. They let me go. <br />
<br />
I reject form. I am starting to see this about myself. It's a little confusing for me because I really do with all of my heart and every part of my being believe that this body and all form is illusion. I get this so deeply. It's illusion, not who I am. AND here I am on this trip. With a body. With furniture, with friends who have bodies, with a car and a son who has a body. And I reject it. I am not at peace. I cannot find the beauty in it all yet. And this is the flip side of the coin you know. I get angry with those who idolize the body and form and in my own peculiar way, I do the same exact thing by rejecting that it is part of me on this trip. So I ache today.<br />
<br />
I ache because I am no longer using food to avoid this conflict in my life. I sit right now and my body is healing. I eat nothing but nutrient dense living raw food. So I am feeding and caring for (in a very deep way) this form that I reject. I feel attracted to other forms, I am not eating that away anymore either. I want love in my life. I want relationship and I know this has to include form on this trip. It just does. I know this is in fact my deepest lesson... how do I accept and participate in this "form game" while knowing in my deepest place that it is not who I am? How do I do this? I see myself shut down, shut off, I see my "EED" beat the living shit out of me. I see it character bash every inch of me. And still I sit. I sit and ache and smile and ache and feel joy and love and hate and attempt to embrace it all. I am not always so graceful. <br />
<br />
I notice lately that I want someone to love me for exactly who I am. I want to you to walk toward me even when I push away. I know in my mind this is my job. However; my mind is split right now. How do I LOVE ME no matter what? <br />
<br />
Today I sit. Today I nourish myself with time. How long can I stand to sit with myself?? How long will I tolerate this ache? How much time will I give myself? I would give you forever. Can I do the same for myself?Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-36037299768401885622010-06-17T11:22:00.001-04:002023-01-17T20:28:52.566-05:00Human....hu·man /ˈhyumən or, often, ˈyu‐/ Show Spelled[hyoo-muhn or, often, yoo‐] Show IPA <br />
<br />
–adjective <br />
1. of, pertaining to, characteristic of, or having the nature of people: human frailty. <br />
2. consisting of people: the human race. <br />
3. of or pertaining to the social aspect of people: human affairs. <br />
4. sympathetic; humane: a warmly human understanding. <br />
–noun <br />
5. a human being. <br />
<br />
Origin: <br />
1350–1400; earlier humain(e) , humayn(e), ME < MF humain < L hūmānus, akin to homō human being ( cf. Homo); sp. human predominant from early 18th cent. <br />
<br />
This is it. This is all dictionary.com says about the definintion of "human". My Webster's II pocket dictionary says the same thing. Hold on, I'm going to go check the Merriam-Webster Collegiate dictionary, certainly they must have a deeper meaning to this vague word... A little better... they have all the same definitions of the previous two I've listed and then this one:<br />
<br />
human: b: susceptible to or representative of the sympathies and <em><strong>frailties</strong></em> of human nature [...such an inconsistency is very "human"]<br />
<br />
which then leads me to the search of the word "fraility":<br />
<br />
frail·ty /ˈfreɪlti, ˈfreɪəl-/ Show Spelled[freyl-tee, frey-uhl-] Show IPA <br />
<br />
–noun, plural -ties for 3. <br />
1. the quality or state of being frail. <br />
2. moral weakness; liability to yield to temptation. <br />
3. a fault resulting from moral weakness: frailties of the human flesh. <br />
<br />
Origin: <br />
1300–50; ME frailte, frelete < OF frailete < L fragilitāt- (s. of fragilitās ). See frail1,-ity<br />
<br />
So put simply and of course laced with my interpretation, the more slightly expanded definition of "Human" is:<br />
<br />
-Susceptible to moral weakness, liability to yield to temptation and faults resulting from moral weakness.-<br />
<br />
And herein lies the saga of being human.<br />
<br />
Why is this so important to me today? Because I am noticing as a "human" adult, that I get to walk around and think that I got it goin' on. I got it together. Even when I'm in chaos, hurt, anger... I walk around thinking it is justified. I am often so reluctant to just stop. Listen. Acknowledge. There are layers upon layers of stories to get through. All kinds of stories that have nothing to do with the present moment... or reality. ANYTIME I am thinking of the past or future, I am afraid. I am afraid of something that I do not want to take a look at. Then come all of the destractions. As I write this I notice how the words do not do justice as far as matching my insides go. It looks so much better on paper. Less messy, neater, organized. <br />
<br />
Sometimes I am afraid.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I am not afraid. I am trusting, exuding love, adoring life and just at peace. <br />
<br />
When I am afraid these are some of the thoughts that push me into a downward spiral, a tizzy of chaos and panic. I want out at this point and these are the culprits: "Life does NOT have my back", 'I have to make things happen", "Nobody could love me", "All the other women are better than me", "All other humans are better than me", "As soon as I'm thin I will be lovable.", "Life sucks", "People suck.", "There is nothing good about this moment.", "I am not going anywhere.", "It's over for me.", "I am completely worthless", "I have no value.", "I am ugly.", "I am doomed.", "I need to be saved.", "I need such and such to love me.", "There is no rhyme or reason to life.", "There is nothing to live for."... hmmmm should I go on? And I wonder why I end up in bed with the covers over my head.<br />
Human beings... being human... separation. Ego, our ego's fight for an identity. To prove I am separate from you. Ego nurtures the thought we are separate. Ouch.. oh.. doesn't that hurt? Can you feel that? I am separate from you. We are separate. I separate myself from time to time. When I make up the story of danger especially. You don't want to fuck with me when I'm here. And I don't mean that as a compliment to myself. It's not pretty. You know that feeling when you are sitting in a chair and your leg is bouncing up and down out of nowhere? That's my signal. When my leg is bouncing up and down and fast, I know I am avoiding something. I am obsessing about either the past or the future. I am not satisfield with the present. It's all wrong to me. I cannot see the tree and the grass for what they are, nothing is enough. I want to fix, to scramble, to rearrange. Screw the universe! (My twelve year old son just glanced over at the screen as I type and said "why do you want to screw the universe!.. lol, too funny.)Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-62258432481324498212010-06-17T09:41:00.001-04:002023-01-17T20:28:52.615-05:00Why oh Why?ob·sess/əbˈsɛs/ Show Spelled[uhb-ses] Show IPA<br />
–verb (used with object) <br />
1. to dominate or preoccupy the thoughts, feelings, or desires of (a person); beset, trouble, or haunt persistently or abnormally: Suspicion obsessed him. <br />
<br />
<br />
What is up with the ego? What is so difficult about being in the present moment? Commitment to separation. Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-64036796753580967492010-06-14T22:36:00.002-04:002023-07-05T19:53:10.187-04:00I am loved because of what this body looks like.How's that for a concept? "I am loved because of what this body looks like." "I deserve love and relationship only when this body looks thin and lean." "My complete and utter worth is based on the condition of this body."<br />
<br />
Wow. I'll say it backwards... wow.<br />
<br />
I have now been living my new lifestyle for 35 days. But whose freakin' counting? I love my new life. Even the glitches, the karma that is catching up with me. The residue of the old way of living. I even love that. It is challenging me to see things differently. I screwed up my fastlane account with all the travelling I did. I gave them the wrong credit card number and I got a notice in the mail charging me $150 to correct this. I didn't care. I smiled and thought "oh well." A couple other things have happened like this .. you know a month away, travel, things don't go so smooth when you have given up the role of making everything perfect. And I smile and think "oh well." It's so freeing. I have lost 32 lbs. to date. I am still eating a complete living raw foods diet. The skin of this body glows, the eyes of this body are clear. The mind is solid and still a little fucked up at times I must say. <br />
<br />
I am seeing my Achilles heal in this life. Straight on... eye to eye... facing the hard ass, no mercy, kick me when I'm down mother bleepin' Achilles heal called my eating disorder. I've always hated that word. I have an "eating disorder" fuck that. It is so true though. And I see it so clearly right now. You know how? Let me indulge you....<br />
<br />
Nobody is rejecting me anymore. I have people telling me how beautiful I am. How great I look. Nobody is rejecting me anymore (maybe they never did). And I still feel ashamed when I look in a mirror. Without mirrors, I'm fine. I have no full length mirrors in my house. They all stop just above my waist. I hate mirrors. I had one of my very good male friends over this weekend. It was awesome. I love this man, we are talking adoration. Love him. We always have the most magnificent conversations. Completely out of left field, not to be expected, mind blowing conversations. I felt such a flow of love and appreciation. A balanced give/take in our connection. This man loved me and cared for me and refrained from judging me while offering me his observations. He left and I felt such peace and excitement really. I wasn't a body. I was all mind with him. We danced and sang and just hung out in life and body followed mind, because I wasn't a body. Well.... I went to dance class tonight and collapsed internally. I was surrounded by mirrors. My body was reflected to me everywhere. And even though it is 32 lbs. lighter... it wasn't enough. Even though it has healed from diabetes, it wasn't enough. Even though I am vibrating from head to toe and sending love out into the universe at lightning speed, it wasn't enough because all I saw was fat. I didn't see anything else. I didn't see my beautiful smile as I became one with the rhythm. I didn't see my pink cheeks as they blended perfectly with my white skin because my heart was getting a phenomenal workout. All I saw was fat. I saw all the skinny girls in their tight asses and perky breasts and I was fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat fat! Even though Franny our teacher had me show the whole class how to do the steps correctly because I was the only one who got it and understood... it wasn't enough because I had no worth in that class tonight. I was fat. <br />
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I am inundated with this story. As I write this tears fall from my eyes. How will I ever overcome this belief that I have invested in my whole life??? I believed my beautiful best male friend could not love me. He must have been mistaken me for someone else. He must have thought he was at someone else's house. It couldn't have been me. All the compliments and support coming my way, MUST be a mistake. I'm not all that. I am fat. And then I saw it. This eating disorder. It isn't about the food at all. My food is perfect. I'm doing great and yet, I look in a mirror and hate myself because I think I am this body. I feel guilty when I look beautiful. I have tucked myself away and hidden for years. Refusing to shine. Refusing to utilize my God given gifts on the top of the list is love. I am a loving person and when I look in a mirror, it's gone.<br />
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This is a confusing place to be. Even more so, it is painful. Here I expose myself to you, vulnerable, open, weak and scared. How will I ever change my mind about this? I don't know how to do it. I figure EVERYTHING OUT. I am innovative this way. And I am at a loss with this one.<br />
<br />
For now I will do what I always do that makes me open.. I will sit with myself and not leave myself. I will hold and carress my heart as it bleeds the tears of years and years of self loathe because of the thought I am a damn body. I will listen to my voice as it moans in agony over the abyss of rejection I have placed on my life. The void, the terror, the misconceptions. I will sit in the bath I just drew and cry. As I face this demon and continue to allow myself to blossom into everything I already am but don't know yet. Nobody will get in my way this time. I am devoted to my own heart. My own self and NOBODY will ever again stop me from doing this. I will not allow it. Please don't hear this as blame. It is not. I am accountable for being the trainer. I trained all of my reflections to treat me a certain way. I trained them that I would take the back seat, the back burner, I would make myself not matter in exchange for love... or for what I thought was love. It was all me. And now I am done with that forever.<br />
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I will go and sit in the warm water I just drew for myself. I will go sit and bathe in complete acceptance. Perhaps not of this body yet. But instead I will bathe in light. I will turn this healing... this huge healing of the mind and my tortured warped perception of who I think I am over to God.. to life... to the great knowing. Left to my own devices with "this one" I will lose. My ego holds onto this one like there is no tomorrow. My ego loves this one, treasures it, nurtures it. This shadow that hangs over me. This shame this shame this shame... I am fat I am fat I am fat. I will go and bathe in the light of accepting that I don't accept that I am worthy this evening. I accept my eating disordered thinking with all of my heart. I accept 100% that I think I am this body, this fat and that I do not deserve love because of the way this body looks.<br />
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I will sit with myself until every tear has been cried. Until the tears turn to laughter.. you know that fine line we walk between crying and laughing. I will not turn my back on mySelf again.<br />
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I can dance. This body moved tonight. I am good. And it wasn't enough. All I saw was fat. But you know what? I still danced. I stayed and I danced. And I knew that even this is temporary. I will prevail. I know this to be true. I will learn that I am not this body. I will learn that I am worthy just as I am. I will. I will. I will. <br />
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I am love. I am kindess. I am mercy. It just has to be this way. Until it is, I will sit.<br />
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Even this is only a moment. A moment. I just cannot know what is next.<br />
<br />
xoxox Love and Hugs... Steph (Keep reading)<br />
<br />
I just received this email.. this very moment... from my dance teacher. She wrote me this very moment as I was writing this post... the very moment.. please read below:<br />
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"Hey Stephy,<br />
You were wonderful tonight...right on top of the game. Thank you for being my second pair of eyes!!! it was splendid how you caught that last three (not four) steps before the step ball change. I swear nobody got that but YOU my dear. A big thanks for being my kindred spirit!!!!<br />
Fun tonight!!!<br />
Just wanted to see how you are and tell you that I love it when you are in class. You my dear are sooooo beautiful. I could watch you dance all day. You love it like I love it...with a sort of compassionate touch. Thank you for being in my life. <br />
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Much love,<br />
Fran"<br />
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Ha! Love will prevail. I am love.. I will prevail. Maybe not tonight.... do not underestimate Me dear ego. Do not.Stephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-86362226737579961522010-06-04T17:36:00.000-04:002023-07-05T19:52:35.809-04:00Days 21 thru 25 .... Yes it's over.Perfect song for my food addiction: <br />
<br />
"Yes it's over, call it a day. Sorry that we had to end this way. No reason to pretend, we knew it had to end someday this way...."<br />
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It's over. I don't need it anymore. It's not because I went and did a raw living foods program... I mean that's part of it, this process certainly has helped me to understand what it means to nurture and care for this body. It' my mind that no longer needs to stuff myself silly though.<br />
<br />
It's been 25 days since I've used food as a coping mechanism. I'm talking 25 days without torture that is. Oh sure, I've white knuckled it hundreds of times in my life, no joke. But it's been 25 days of not white knuckling it. No torture regarding food. <br />
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I've had years upon years of yo-yo dieting. Years upon years of deciding one night that I will try a new diet and feeling the absolute high of the fantasy of "getting thin". FINALLY looking in a way that will have someone love me. The fantasy that the body is what makes me lovable, the body is what gives me my worth, my value. Getting high off the thought "Tomorrow I start the Cambridge Diet" or "Tomorrow I start Atkins" or "Tomorrow I will sign up for weight watchers" and then because the thoughts "I am not good enough and this will make me valuable" was driving these diets, I always inevitably failed, always. I mean wouldn't you? If someone bullied you into a corner and told you that unless you looked a certain way or acted a certain way you would be scorned and turned against and you would have no love, wouldn't you rebel? Say "fuck you!" and do the opposite? Or maybe vacillate between conforming and rebelling. Well, this is what I did in the face of me bullying myself. I rebelled I finally said NO! and gained 150 pounds. I remember the day I promised myself I would not diet again. The day I promised myself that unless the lifestyle changed naturally I would never again force myself to be thin or lose weight just because it would make me lovable. <br />
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It was May 2005. Five years ago. I was destitute and depressed and at an all time low. I was at the end of a nasty, grueling child custody battle over my son. And that was the tip of the iceberg. I was beat up, torn down and spit out. I thought all the abuse was coming from outside of me, I hadn't realized yet that it was I that did the majority of battering to 'yours truly'. Fighting for my worth which eventually led to fighting for my son. This was one of the most destructive and painful periods of my life, and believe me, I've had several periods like this and this was the toughest. I was living between Boston and the Berkshires. Driving several times in a week back and forth to be with my son while attempting to make a life for us in an area that I wanted to be, the city. Although the Berkshires are beautiful, they are not home to me. Never have been, and up til this point ... they still do not feel like home. I am a city girl at heart and this has not seemed to change for me as of yet. I don't expect it to, but who knows. <br />
<br />
I was at the place that I rented for Jonah and me. Jonah was sleeping soundly and I sat in the living room on the phone with a friend sobbing. "I won't do it anymore! I would rather go to my grave fat than bully myself into losing one more pound because I think I'm worthless like this. I won't do it." I continued... "It doesn't work. It's not about this body, it's about how I am thinking about life and there has to be a better way! This body is a reflection of what I think about myself... it's a direct mirror and I need to begin to really look at what I am thinking about life, about myself. Losing weight is like drinking or eating... it doesn't work when ego driven. I'm done." And I was. I never dieted again. I did not gain anymore weight and over the last five years naturally lost 26 lbs. I know that doesn't sound like much, but considering all I did was work on my thoughts about life, it's a sort of miracle. I did attempt to change my lifestyle last summer with a cooked foods program, but I white knuckled it so therefore stopped doing it. I went back and forth, eating like a mad women, calming down. Eating like a madwoman, calming down. And then, diabetes.<br />
I am grateful for this body. I am so glad I got fat. I am so glad this body was diabetic. It forced me into self love and appreciation. It forced me to turn to God/Life/The Universe. It forced me into learning to love myself exactly as I am. And I do. I am not saying that I do not have this mind to question still. As a matter of fact coming home and doing the last five days of the program from my house has been quite a journey. I have noticed that I feel so empty. Literally empty. I am not relying on my taste buds to get me through a day of uninvestigated thoughts. I have not white knuckled fending off food for one second. Not once. I have had a couple of moments where I see an advertisement with fat, greasy, sugar laden foods or been at the movies and seen people feasting on my old alibi and found myself salivating. However, even though I "thought" to myself "I want that" I didn't believe it this time. I remembered that I didn't eat just for pleasure.. once I ate that piece of grease, I didn't stop and ate myself into blood sugar readings of nearly 400. Being at the Creative Health Institute changed all that for me. My mind was ready though. It was not a second too soon. I was ready to live without my drug. I questioned myself back into integrity. And my body is now following. <br />
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Do not misinterpret my message here. The transformation that is happening to me. The one I am going through right before your very eyes IS NOT ABOUT THIS BODY. Even though the body has been my catalyst. It has not been the focus. One and a half weeks into this program, when my body was on the mend, I felt NO DIFFERENT than when I was home stuffing my face. NO DIFFERENCE. It was not until I noticed this and began investigating why that I started to feel better. I went through the thoughts and emotions of deep disappointment that this journey had nothing to do with this body. That even though the body was getting what it needed and transforming before my eyes it did not guarantee that I was free and feeling great. I was about to become a skinny miserable lunatic instead of a fat one. Except for the fact that I had been questioning the bejesus out of my mind and continued to do my work during this intense changing of lifestyles. And now here I am. <br />
I'm at home in my mind. And even though I am seeing that the Berkshires are still not for me. Even though I am seeing the holes in my life where I ate instead of pursued my dreams. Even though I am seeing where I wasted my energy on trying to persuade the people who didn't like me, to like me and then stuffed my face to comfort myself. To push down all the rage and disappointment. Even though I am seeing all this vast nothingness inside of me, I do not need to eat over it one more second. It's over. I can sit with myself. I will not abandon myself. And when I do, I will come back to myself. I do not need ice cream to accompany my tears anymore. And I certainly do not need diabetes or a stroke or heart attack to get my attention that something is off in my mind. I mean those things may happen again to me, I can't predict the future, I can't save my life, this body will die someday, that's what I have signed on for here, but I am clear that I am integrity now and when the body goes -as far as I can see- it won't be because I overdosed on big macs and french fries. And if I do, I will welcome it. Because now I know that I am not this body. <br />
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I cannot predict the future. I just cannot know what is next. I pretend like I do sometimes and believe it, but I don't and that's the truth. Being at home has been more challenging as far as fitting in my whole program. In Michigan, I got everything done for me. The schedule was in place the wheatgrass was juiced, the rebounders were laid out. Here, I have to do it. I have not succeeded in doing it all just yet. Still trying to get it in place, however I have done at least a few of things I need to do every day and I have no doubt I will get it all in place. I am patient. Where do I have to be other than right here? Now. I have been 100% living raw. It is working for this body right now. I will continue for the next six months and re-evaluate. I will see where I am at. I will be patient in my healing journey. My process is my process ... period. I have all the time in the world for me. <br />
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One moment at a time. One moment at a time. One moment at a time. I persevere. Clear that for some reason the old thinking around food is becoming a faint memory. An old friend. A bridge to Truth.<br />
End of program results: <br />
<br />
Weight loss: 27 pounds. <br />
Blood Sugar: 100 in the morning 84 in the evening, no medication. (from over 300 on medication)<br />
Candida: 5/6 (from an 8/9)<br />
Ph: 6.1 (from a 5.2)<br />
GERD (Gastro esophageal reflux disorder) GONE! Off medication now for 3 weeks was on this medication (protonix) for 12 years.<br />
Off all my medication (Louvaza, protonix, glyboride) except for levoxyl for thyroid.<br />
<br />
Will get my blood tests done again at the end of September. Will keep you posted.<br />
One moment at a time...<br />
Love xoxoxo StephStephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-56746327727338863332010-05-30T23:34:00.002-04:002023-07-05T19:52:30.039-04:00Day 20...Sunday, May 30, 2010<br />
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<br />
Day 20.... <br />
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Last night here at CHI in Michigan. A bit melancholy mixed with some nerves about taking my program home. Mostly filled with gratitude and excitement. <br />
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I did a concert here last night for all the people here. I did one the 6th night I was here and it was a hit. So much of a hit that I was asked to do one again. I must say both nights were amazing and lots of people showed for both. It was wonderful to watch the faces of these precious beings as they identified with my writing. I loved knowing it was a break in their day and possibly their life to be soothed by my voice. I felt purposeful. And I also noticed as I was up there singing my brains out how much I LOVE doing just that. Singing my brains out. I love singing. God do I love singing. I love singing. I love being up there with lots of people in front of me singing my very heart out to each and every one of them. I did these concerts because I love what I do. I love singing. They all gave back to me without my knowing. Because I sang they all chipped in money and sent me off with travel money plus a little extra. They all signed this amazing card and put the money in it. They were very moved by my music. They paid for my trip home! And they packed me a very nutritious care package for the road as well. They are so generous here. I have learned that God/Life/Love -whatever name you fancy- really does take care of me when I step out of the way. Really.<br />
<br />
A very funny (not in the ha ha kind of way) mind story... So I sang for a couple of people on the 7th night too. One woman was in the front singing at the top of her lungs with me!! Any of you who know me know how much I love when people do that... cough cough. And then she kept coaching me in how to sing and play the guitar and also coaching this guy that was sitting in for a couple of tunes with me. She also kept hollering out requests and I told her I didn't take requests and she kept hollering them out anyways! Well, needless to say I got annoyed. So I said I would do one more song on my own because my friend Glenda had asked me to and then I would call it a night. I sang a song I wrote called "Forgive Yourself" (Irony?). Low and behold I get out about a verse or so and she gets up and walks out. I was sure she was being a beeaatch. I had all kinds of stories going thru my head... "she didn't get her way", "who the hell does she think she is", "What a passive aggressive mofo.." you get the point. Well... last night at my concert she is there and she raises her hand and says "I have a request"... I couldn't believe it. I said "fine but it has to be something I know".. she said "I know.. it's a song you wrote that broke me... you were singing it the other night and it was so beautiful it broke me... it's called "Forgive yourself"... HOLY CRAPOLI... She did not dislike me at all. She left the room that night because she broke down crying. My song moved her. She was an emotional wreck and something about my song broke her heart open. Wow. My mind lies all the time. It just makes up things over and over again and I believe it. I friggin' believe it. Well... if it wasn't true that she hated me and my songs... then maybe it's not true that I'm not enough and that I have no value and that I am a failure and that I'm a bad mother ... etc. etc.. I mean clearly I don't always think these things... but they do rear their ugly little heads in my mind now and again. And they are made up stories that I believe like a religion. She was moved by my song. Wow.<br />
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Get a load of this.. blood sugar this morning.. 94...yup you read that right. ;). I am living walking proof that diabetes is reversible. 94.<br />
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I am on the road tomorrow for 12 hours. I will be home continuing my program until this coming Thursday. I will keep you posted this week..<br />
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Love and hugs.. xoxo StephStephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-59211380125330806052010-05-30T08:36:00.000-04:002023-07-05T19:52:23.639-04:00Days 18 and 19 ....Sunday, May 30, 2010<br />
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<br />
Day 18 and 19..... <br />
<br />
Well, Michigan is winding down for me. It is Sunday morning here in this beautiful state. Today is day twenty and it is 7:20 in the morning here. I cannot seem to sleep past 6:40 am anymore. I just open my eyes and Whammo... hello day! It doesn't even matter what time I go to sleep, I wake up at 6:40 am. Good thing I'm beginning to get interested in life again since I will be awake for it so early.<br />
<br />
Friday and Saturday (Day 18 and 19) were good days. I had a lot of emotional and mind clearing on these days. My friend Tom who I speak with on a weekly basis to do "The Work of Byron Katie" made himself generously and massively available to me for these past three weeks. I spoke with him a couple times each week and we went to town doing "The Work." He has been doing this for fifteen years now (maybe more). He has gotten so good at sitting with himself that in my opinion he is now a master at sitting with me. He taught me so much without even intending to. Our work was very profound and heart opening.<br />
<br />
I do not recommend doing a program like this without the intention of working with the mind. Unless of course you want to believe it is still about the body. If you believe this, you can ride the wave of feeling good and well and even be high for a short bit, but the malignancy of the mind will surely creep in and fester until you decide to listen to it, let it breath and question the darkness into light. This I know for sure.<br />
<br />
I had the most amazing email come my way from one of my very best friends in the world. I've known this gem of mine since 4th grade. We were dressed alike at halloween and the next day became inseparable throughout grade school, middle school and high school. Attached at the hip really. This woman knows me through and through and I her. She has written me a couple times through my process here asking me "are you okay?" .. I knew that I was not in the clear yet as far as freedom of mind was concerned here but I couldn't help but wonder what she was seeing that I wasn't. You know for the record, this happens in our lives... do you listen? The people who know us the best can always see the things we don't know that we don't know. No that wasn't a typing mistake.... I did in fact write that correctly.... We don't know what we don't know. There are the things we "know we know" like how to ride a bike. Things we "know we don't know" like how to do brain surgery (unless of course your a brain surgeon). Then there are the things we don't know we don't know. These things are where the people closest to us come in ... um.... handy. <br />
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Suffice it to say my eyes were wide open. We had a very profound conversation after I received this from her. Listen to those closest to you. Do not shoot the messenger. Even if the words come out clumsy, there may be a piece of information in what they are saying that could change you. This friend of mine was not clumsy in her words.. she was brilliant. However; there are times that those of us who love us are clumsy. Don't disregard what they are saying - especially if it hits a nerve - this is when you know they may be onto something. You know that old adage "the truth hurts"... well, I'll say no more.<br />
<br />
I got to see that I am sometimes a walking hallmark apology card. I apologize for my existence. I feel guilty for just about everything. Somehow I have taken on that most things are my fault. If China blew up, I would say "crap, what did I do." This has been my feeble attempt to control life. If it's my fault then I can fix it. I can change it. And really, I cannot change anything. Not even myself really. I was raised a certain way. I was brought up by the parents I was brought up by. I have become the person I have become. Now this is the trick... I have no say in who I am... only how I be with who I am. I sometimes to use food to comfort myself. I sometimes get needy in relationships. I sometimes think when you are upset or mad it is my fault. I sometimes think I am no good. I sometimes think that life is out to get me, I sometimes think everything is personal. This is some of what I've interpreted about my life circumstances. The only thing I have any control over is choosing to be with my mind. Learning to watch this behavior that happens when my split mind is telling me how it is. I watch, I watch, I question, I question, I watch, I see, the mind lets me go. I get to watch this body, this mind and see it's not Me. It stops being personal. Then your behavior stops being personal to me - the good and the bad. I see me in you and you in me. Peace begins with me because I am the only mind that I can question. I am the only mind that I can step back from and observe. <br />
<br />
Then I get to tell you about me. I get to tell you the truth. "Hey you... sometimes I am really needy in relationship. Sometimes I think you are better than me. Sometimes I think I am better than you. Sometimes I think I am no good. Since we are considering a relationship, it's good for you to know the truth about my thoughts and what I believe sometimes." Then you get to see if you can handle me. If you have the capacity to be with me. We don't wait two, or three or five or twenty years and suddenly you wake up next to me and go "who the hell are you?!" You get it all right up front. And then if you cannot love me for who I am..... next. And like wise. I will change as I watch my mind. And I can only be who I am in any given moment though. I only have one truth per moment. Then it changes. I cannot force my own evolution. This is me now, like it, or don't, but this is me.<br />
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My mind is clear today. Although I do have a bit of a headache. I am still going through some detox. I have a little bit of a road ahead of me. Although my sugar is now normalized I am not finished with my health reversal process. My body is still kicking off weight and I am still trying to get my Ph up and candida out. My blood sugar has not gone above 112 in over a week now. And it was 112 only once because I ate a big big meal with a lot of nuts in it. I can only handle small amounts of fat at a time right now as my liver and pancreas heal and regenerate. I had my discharge meeting with Bobby on Saturday... it was fantastic. He told me I am way ahead of schedule. He will mentor me and see me through over the next few months until I am stable and in the clear. He said I am already there really, but to insure the healing he will be with me. I love him.<br />
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I have another good friend who will be shopping for me so that I have all kinds of healthy good food waiting for me at home. This is the same friend who will continue to support me for a little while in this program. I do not consider the program complete until this coming Thursday June 3rd. I leave here Monday and will take the following four days to transition to my home and get things set up there for guaranteed success. Apparently people leave here and sometimes the old lifestyle creeps in. This will not happen to me. I informed all my friends here not to underestimate me... because I will fool you if you do. Never underestimate me. I have stopped underestimating myself. My eyes finally opened here and I see all the times I have been wrong about my capabilities. I am far better off than I typically give myself credit for. This is a done deal for me. Although it may rear it's little insidious head once in a while, food addiction is a thing of the past for this woman.<br />
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Well, dare I say everything is holding strong. My candida went down finally... It is at a 5 right now. My goal is a 2. My Ph is holding at a 6.0. My blood sugar is the same 81 at night, 108 in the morning. Diabetes reversed. I know I keep repeating this... and I will continue to.... it is so astounding to me. I have had nothing but living raw foods for 19 days now... Holy crapoli! Do you realize what a miracle this is? If I can do this.. YOU can do anything. Seriously.<br />
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Well.. that's it for now. I'll write more later. Love and Hugs... StephStephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-10569565755491557602010-05-28T17:03:00.000-04:002023-07-05T19:52:17.775-04:00Day 16 and 17 ....Catching you up....<br />
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Weight Loss... 18 pounds.<br />
Blood Sugar.... A.M. 108 - P.M. 81<br />
Candida.... Still a 6<br />
Ph..... Still a 6.0<br />
Resting heart rate - 80<br />
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3 Days left of the deep detoxification cleanse I've been on. My diabetes has been reversed. I am still considered in a pre-diabetic state in the morning. I am sure this will change as I take off the rest of my weight. I am looking forward to continuing this lifestyle. I will continue with my healing process for the next couple of months. My program will not be officially "over" until June 3rd. I will be doing Monday night - Thursday at my home. I will be setting up my kitchen. Learning to shop. Trying new un-cooked recipes. And learning to be in my life with a living-raw foods diet.<br />
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Today is day 18. I will write more later.<br />
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xoxo StephStephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-55619346359940429112010-05-26T17:28:00.001-04:002023-07-05T19:52:03.649-04:00Day 14 and 15...I cannot even begin to tell you how relaxed I am right now. I just had one of the best massages of my entire life. No joke. This woman Mindy found places in my trapezius muscles that I didn't know existed. I actually cried after in my room. This detox has been one of the most profound experiences of my life. I don't know that I've ever been so in touch and devoted to self care. Self care and awareness is the gift that never stops giving. It is the gift that allow me to give to you from an authentic place. It is the gift that allows me to give to myself. The vehicle to self care is the body. Body follows mind and the vehicle is the body. The body shows me at any given time how I am thinking about myself and life. The body completely and honestly reflects to me my state of mind. This body is my vehicle to questioning my mind. Questioning all the separation that I believe in so dearly.<br />
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I can love and set boundaries at the same time. I can love and tell someone no. I can love and decide that a certain behavior does not work for me from myself or from another. I don't have to punish someone because of who they are, how are are, where they are. I can say "no" or "don't" or "do" from a place of honesty, love and acceptance. <br />
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My blood sugar was 103 when I woke up this morning. Candida still at a 6, Ph at a 6.0. Tomorrow is weigh in. I feel good. I feel grounded. I feel centered. I actually feel and know my own strength right now. <br />
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I am learning to relax. I run on adrenaline most of the time. I'm learning to reverse this as well.<br />
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I will continue this lifestyle when I leave here. I have no doubt. I will continue this radical self care. Period. <br />
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I will sit with myself until my candida is gone. I will sit with myself until my Ph is 7.0. I don't care how long it takes, I will not abandon myself one more day. I'm in no hurry. This body can take its time to heal. I have ignored it for many many years. It can take its time. I'm in no hurry. I will sit and wait. I have nowhere to go. Where do I have to be other than right here right now? Who do I have to see other than whoever is in front of me? I will sit and be with this body, this mind. I will sit for as long as it takes. I will be just as I am and in love with everything. Except for when I'm not.<br />
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I AM WHOLE AND COMPLETE JUST AS I AM. PERIOD. I am whole and complete. With diabetes, without it. With legs and arms, without them. With my uterus, without it. I am whole and complete. I am NOT this body. But I sure as hell am going to take care of it while it's on loan to me.<br />
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I am not on a "high". This program has not induced a "high" state for me. I do feel calm though. I do know what love is. Even though I don't always bask in it and live in it, I do know what love is. I am learning to relax, chill out, not live in a constant state of heightened awareness. Hypervigilance. Scanning my environment for danger. I am learning to let things be as they are. This does not mean passivity or resignation. This means get with reality. Stop fighting what's true. Stop suffering. My mind is letting me go. <br />
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I do know what love is....<br />
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I'm sending it to you right now. xoxo StephStephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-7738740553379964152010-05-23T11:53:00.000-04:002023-07-05T19:51:54.832-04:00Day 12 and 13 ... Dead in Bed....<em>Dead in Bed</em> is the name of a book that my twelve year old son is writing. When he told me yesterday morning that this was the title of his work in progress, I was hoping his answer would be "a comedy" when I asked the question "what kind of book is it?" Much to my dismay yet curiosity, he answered "a murder mystery of sorts." Hmmmmm... okay? It was then I realized my beautiful, innocent, soft and tender baby boy was growing (and at a rapid pace) into a beautiful, not so innocent, soft, sometimes hard, tender, sometimes tough, smart, no holds barred flat out boy. He is a boy, not even a young boy any more, a boy one year away from being a teenager. I cannot protect him like I use to be able to. Sure there are certain ways to hold off some of the harder lessons of life still, but it sure is tricky. What really drew me to this title however was not his quick minded plot about Al-Qaeda (yes, you read that correctly :o) But the fact that this is where I have been for the last two days "dead in bed". <br />
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I got into bed Friday afteroon and did not leave bed until this morning Sunday. Well, I did get out of bed to eat of course (come on.. what did you expect?) but then I would crawl back into bed and cry. I took breaks from my crying jags to watch a total of 20 "Friends" episodes. Yes, in one and a half days, I watched twenty epidsodes of friends. Let me clear things up for you. I started my menstrual cycle on Friday morning. By friday late afternoon I was a babbling, painful mess. My ovaries were throbbing to the tune of "Purple Haze".. that harsh and that out of control. And let's just say for sake of not grossing out out completely that I was flowing like the Mississippi river after a ten day rain storm. Horrible, horrible horrible. And my emotional/mental state matched all of the above. I was amess. Of course I was told this was part of the "cleansing process" so I avoided ibuprofen and braved it out. I cried and cried and cried and cried some more. I waved my fist at God, and roared at the heavens. I questioned my existence, my purpose, who am I now as a person, how will I ever go on with this new lifestyle, but mostly I didn't know why I was feeling such deep grief, so I just went with it. I laid there with a "do not disturb" sign on my door and it was heaven in hell. I tried to talk to a couple of my friends, but it didn't do me any good. And I knew life was attempting to get me to just sit with myself because most people weren't available yesterday. So I surrendered to the pain on every level. <br />
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I loved watching "Friends". It is my all time favorite show. That big beautiful apartment dropped smack dab in the middle of New York City. Do you know when I write that name New York City, by heart skips a beat. I love New York City, New York City, New York City. Mmmmmmmmm. The physical comedy on "Friends", the laughter the comraderie, the love... it all represents my dreams, my youth. It reminds me that I'm not finished yet. I'm not done with the sculpture of my life. I'm only about half way there. Unless of course I get hit by a bus today, then clearly, I was wrong. But I'm gonna bank on the fact that this won't happen. I still have another half to go. I am not sure how or where or why or whatever, but I do know there are several things about my life back home that I do not like. I see so clearly that the place I've been carving from has not been completely authentic. And the food and fat has helped me to cope with this. It's as if my body and life are both being sculpted at the same time. The one thing I do know for sure is that I love my son and will continue to love and stay and be his Mother forever. That's about all I know right now though. <br />
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Dead in Bed. I suppose we do die a sort of death when going through an intense program such as the one I am in the midst of right now. I suppose being Dead in Bed is necessary when a life a mind a body is changing tracks. It takes a lot of skill and stillness balanced with movement to guide a train going lightning speed onto another track. I would like to trust life more. I would like to trust life/God/Universe ... whatever you want to call it .... more. More more more. How do I surrender to the intelligence of life. I see the sun rise then set. I see the moon light up the dark. I see the trees swing in the breeze. I see the plants feed me oxygen. I watch as my body recovers so fast. I see life happening all around me and yet... yet... yet.... I don't belive quite yet that I am not in charge. I still can not distinguish between this body and this mind and God and Intelligence and Life and Me. Not this week anyways. <br />
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It's as if I interpret surrender as being clobbered. I have not accepted the fact yet that my life leading up to now has not been surrender, but resignation... which is just a mechanism to have life look the way I want it to look. Resignation.. I don't like the way this is going so maybe if I just lay down and pull the covers over my head, someone will notice how "dead in bed" I am and change things. How's that going? Ha. So I am interested today in this word "surrender". Trusting in the intelligence of life.. trusting in myself. Becoming acquainted again with the voice inside. Which one is the Truth? Which one is the one that Knows? How do I listen to this Voice and know it's not story? Or is it all Story? And do I just keep the good, loving, peaceful story? I don't know.<br />
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I look forward to this part of the journey though. I want to open more. I want to be open. I want my heart open more. Love, open to love. Not like romantic love, although.. as I said "I'm open".. but just love. Trust. Joy. How about some joy? "Got Joy?" I have a deep longing. I want to sing. I want to write. I want to be involved in the world. I feel I have things to say, to share. And I have this deep longing to connect to EVERYONE. I want to be connected to everyone. I want to feel connected to everyone. Everyone.<br />
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My blood sugar was 105 today apon rising. Wow.<br />
Ph was down alot.. but apparently this is very typical during a menstrual cycle.<br />
Candida was much better.<br />
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One week to go. Then a week's transistion. <br />
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Thanks for listening.. Sending you so much love. xoxox StephStephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-29032033110639988802010-05-21T18:50:00.001-04:002023-07-05T19:52:10.244-04:00Days 10 and 11....Blood sugar - 90 w/out medication. (Was well over 300 on medication the night I arrived).<br />
Ph balace - 6.6 (Was 5.2 my first day here. By the way... the lowest number on the kit is 5.5).<br />
Weight loss - 14 1/2 lbs. in 8 days. (I haven't weighed in since Tuesday).<br />
Candida - Still a 6/7. (I was an 8/9 when I arrived. The scale is 1-10).<br />
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Other improvements worth mentioning: The skin on my legs is soft and supple. It was dry with little bumps all over it. Very soft without putting any cream on. The alligator skin on my upper arms is clearing up. My teeth are sparkling white. My rosacea has calmed a bit, still a bit red but very improved. The aches in my knees have gone. My lower back pain has completely disappeared. I have not taken any acid reflux medication in over a week and it has been very minimal. After I eat I get gassy and my reflux acts up a little bit. However; it is acting up less and less at every meal. I should mention that I have been on protonix (a drug for Gastro Esophageal Reflux Disorder) for ten years. I had very severe GERD. When I attempted to go off this medication before this program, I would be keeled over with such severe reflux that I could hardly breathe. Everthing is improving at record speed.<br />
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It was very quiet around here today. I got my period and oh did I get a good one! In bed exhausted... another detoxification side effect I was told. It came eleven days late and I had no pre-menstrual syndrome. I just got really tired and had extreme cramping when it showed up. Still even in this moment as I write this I can feel myself wanting to sleep. Tonight I will shower, put on my jammies and watch friends on dvd as I fade into lala land.<br />
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I can see the part of me that still wants to be inside and not do life. This is how I can see that it is the mind that creates our experience. Here I am healing up like never before. The track I'm on will put me feeling better than I did in my twenties. Really, I can see my body being that healed up. I have more spunk in my step and more energy altogether in my body. It's amazing. I'm not free yet though. And my goal is to be free before I leave here. I want to feel free. Don't get me wrong I have alot of moments of freedom. My life presents opportunities to me all the time where I get to work through crap and get free. Yet, I can feel this longing in my gut. This wall of defense that I carry with me still. I have the sensation of this solid rock in the middle of my gut. I'm not at peace with myself here. I'm not at peace with my process and myself YET. <br />
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I don't really have anything too profound to say tonight. The computers were down yesterday so I couldn't write. This is a catch up note of sorts. Keeping connected with you, reaching out, letting you know I am here. Are you there? Has this been helpful to read? What is it like hearing about my process? I'd love to hear from you... if you're reading. If not, that's okay too, but if you have something in your heart to say, I'd love to hear it. <br />
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Sending you love. xoxo StephStephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-42112896075164616112010-05-19T14:17:00.001-04:002023-07-05T19:51:46.404-04:00Day 9... I love living raw foods and this is now my lifestyle.Well, the first ten day program completes tomorrow. So my first group of friends are shipping out tomorrow. I will be staying on with my friends Glenda and Adrianne. Glenda is 79 years old and you'd think she was sixty. She's a beautiful black woman with salt and pepper hair, mostly pepper and she glows. She plays the piano and her smile could light up a room. She will stay on for the month like me. Adrianne JUST got here last night. She's very fiery and spunky. I like her alot. I think we might become good friends.<br />
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Then there is me. I am in detox war. I'm in "enema's up the wazoo" hell. Mornings are most difficult for me. First of all I don't sleep well and I need to find a way to sleep. I'm drained and tired and cranky. It also does not help my body to repair itself at night. My blood sugar was 130 this morning upon waking and although this is low and good, I'm not out of the woods yet. Bobby seems to think that once I sleep my blood sugar will drop. I think it's a weight thing. I believe I need to be loving and patient with myself as I take off this weight and rid myself of this candida. Also, the oatmeal and fruit is too starchy for me in the morning and this makes my blood sugar spike, so I can only have blended energy soup for b'fast... alot of fun! Between wheat grass and enema hell and rejuvalac (fermented drink that restores the healthy flora in the intestinal track and colon) and the energy soup... I feel like Crapola (this is very different then "Holy Crapola".. do not confuse the two for they are POLAR opposites.) My joints ache and my face has acne which I never have. I have rosacea so I look like a fat, acne ridden drunk irish lady. It's not pretty. And I'm loud to boot, so I act like one too. As a matter of fact anyone coming off the street who does not know me would take me out of here and throw me in a drunk tank. I'm angry too!! My food's been taken from me and suddenly I'm ANGRY!! This foodie wants her drug. Last night I sat in my room contemplating how I could break into the shop and steal some dehydrated sesame crackers! I already told on myself, so I don't want to hear of any anonymous tips being called into here. <br />
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I'm glad I am staying the month. I see how my body needed this. I am at a stand still with improvement after 8 days. My yeast are stagnent, my blood sugar is wavering just a bit... oh.. but I have lost ten and a half pounds... in just eight days. Today Bobby started me on 2 sprouted almonds for break/lunch/dinner and then 2 before bed. And two tablespoons of apple cider vinegar for break/lunch/dinner and two tbs. before bed. He said this will lower my blood sugar as well. My program will intensify starting on Friday. He wants me to only have one meal a day at lunch and have only blended foods for breakfast and dinner. I am off virtually all sugars right now. I am not craving sugar however, it is fat I crave. I crave the fat. I'm a fat junkie. There was think avacado dressing out last night and the minite it hit my lips, ooohhhhh. I wanted to strip, rub it all over my body and dance the dance of ecstacy! If I had a syringe, I have shot that baby right into my bloodstream. Hmmmm.... maybe the addiction still has me just a little? <br />
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Actually, I do still believe it's the mind. Don't get me wrong, my body aches and I smell like raw onions all the time and I am bright red. However; an even bigger part of this detoxification process is my mind and emotions. They go hand in hand. I am having memories like I haven't had in years. I have remembered parts of my past that would drive anyone to stuf their face. I don't say this from a feel bad from me point of view.. we all have our cross to bear so to speak. I say this simply because it's the truth and if anyone ever tells you differently .. their a big fat liar.. pardon the pun. The biggest part of this program for me has been and eye opening dose of the lack of self care I have bestowed on myself over the years. I thought my job was to take care of others before myself. Actually that's a lie, I knew that was not really the way of it.. however; it felt only right. I have been doing it for so long that I haven't known how not to. And I am learning that I deserve love too. That it is up to me to have compassion for me. It is up to me to love and groom myself. Up to me what I put in this mouth and body. It is up to me if I choose to wake up and do my practice. Up to me whether or not I question my mind. It's all up to me. This is hard to get when you don't like you are taking care of. It's difficult to bestow love onto someone when you think they are second rate. And I don't think this anymore. No way, no how.<br />
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I have been the one who has turned my back on myself. I have been the one who has been distugsted with the way I look, the way of my life. I have abandoned me. Not all the time, but some of it. And it won't happen for another minute. Something is happening here for me. I have a ways to go. Something is definitely shifting though. I feel as if my life is just beginning. As if it's all gone perfectly. And I am finally starting to toy with allowing myself the glory that I have seeked. Baby steps. I don't know how I will do it all. I don't know how I'll affored a dehydrator and other stuff for a living raw foods kitchen.. but I'll figure it out. I don't how the transition home will be, but I'll figure it out. I don't know how long it will take me to lose all the weight and get rid of this candida and be 100% stable with sugar.. but I'll figure it out. Or maybe I won't have to. Perhaps ... just like this body knows what it's doing without me "figuring it out".. just maybe ... just maybe so does life. Just maybe with the intentions I have it will all just fall into place... money, equipment, the future (which is a hoax by the way... oh here comes the future.. it's ..it's NOW.) Just maybe it's all already happened and I just don't know it yet. Maybe I should drop the maybe.<br />
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Whatever the way of the wizard is, I know one thing for sure. I am now converted to a living raw foods diet. It's working for me. I know this. Just like when i discovered the Work of Byron Katie.. I was lost at first, but I knew that was my new way of life. I knew it was for me. This is where I am at now with this lifestyle. It will take time, patience and love. But now I love my subject. Now I have deep compassion for this body I have been assigned on this trip. Now I stand and hold my experience with open arms and willingness. No one can reject me now. For I have embraced myself. No one can turn their back on me now, I won't be able to see it because I have faced myself. Noone can inflict abuse on me anymore because I have stopped abusing myself. <br />
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I have chosen a living raw foods lifestyle. Holy crapoli. <br />
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My world is changing here. As miserable as I feel sometimes, as painful as it can be and as drunk as I look... my world is changing here.<br />
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Until tomorrow friends... xoxo StephStephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803250400880826225.post-61977695953779459932010-05-18T10:52:00.000-04:002023-07-05T19:51:38.187-04:00Day 8Tuesday, May 18, 2010<br />
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<br />
Hello Friends..<br />
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Thank you for all of your lovely comments and massive support. I will be taking a break from writing this morning. This process of releasing dependency on food has been wonderfully intense. Bittersweet. Without food to cope with I find myself flooded with some unfinished business with my past that I feel it is time to make peace with. My heart is heavy today and I am evidence that the body can heal all it needs to and if the mind is not attended to then there will be no peace, no freedom. No physical place in the world, be it Hawii, India, Japan or the physical place of health, beauty, money, sex, food, alcohol, drugs... no physical place in this world can bring peace or freedom to my mind. My mind creates this world I see. And without healing of the mind I am bound to suffer. So here I go inside. I look forward to telling you all about it when I come out. <br />
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A brief update... my body is healing. My blood sugar was 98 last night!!! Holy Crapoli. My blood sugar was 126 this morning... holy crapoli!! Still with no medication. The yeast are still swimming in me, die suckers die!!! I have trust in my body, they will go as they are ready. Perhaps somehow my body needs them right now. Who knows. My heart rest has gone from resting between 92 and 102 to now a whopping 72!!!! Holy Crapoli.<br />
I'll keep you posted.<br />
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Sending love to all of you.. xoxox StephStephanie Ann Cambpellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09119886409593228359noreply@blogger.com0