Had my new hip put in...

The old one is out, and I'm feeling better every day! I'm just filled with joy and gratitude because a)I feel that God has granted me so many chances to make things right in my life, and even though I can't fathom why He would be so patient with me, I am awed by His endless bounty of love. I mean, how many people wake up in recovery room from a major operation feeling totally HAPPY! It's insane, but just feel this energy bubbling out of me that feels better than chocolate, or any relationship I've ever had with the opposite sex (actually, the latter part isn't very difficult to best).

b)I've never felt so loved and supported by people that I've never would have met while I was eating addictively, and these folks, along with all of my family members have become an integral part of my life right now. I was feeling the love and prayers in that hospital! It's real, people, I swear it is!

c) I'm also humbled by the fact that my life now has purpose, and even though I've always known that, I didn't feel I could fulfill it because of my morbid obesity. Who wants the big fat woman around taking up more than her share of space in the world? It doesn't matter that these thoughts were an insanely unjust condemnation of my basic humanity, but that's how I felt and thought about myself. Not anymore. No, not anymore!

Well, it's getting late, and I need to fulfill my end of the bargain by getting to bed on time. Life doesn't wait for those who stay in bed mourning about events or people that, in summation, don't make a damn bit of difference. My job is to heal my addicted mind, body and soul so I can carry out what God has ordained for my life. No, I have no idea what that actually means in terms of precise details. But I know what God has given me for tools to work it out. The rest is just putting the pieces together, a little bit at a time. And enjoying the journey.

Side note, and one that isn't nearly as important: I weighed in at 189.4 two days before surgery. And I weigh less than that now. So how big was I, actually? I don't have any pictures of myself at my very highest(serious camera ducking); I think the one I shared in my previous blog shows me a bit under 400 lbs. So I searched the internet for pictures that come somewhat close. That's what you see up above. I apologize for crass ghetto-izing, but that was my best guestimate of how big I was. Trust me--I never dressed like that. I was wearing tent dresses and muu-muus at age 28. Putting it all out there like girlfriend was never part of my daily thought process. And it isn't in my thoughts now. I choose to honor my body and spirit these days.

It's all love, baby, all love!

Family is where the heart is

My grandson Xavier staring at a pinata with deadly focus and intent. My joy, my love, my heart!

I had a wonderful Mother's Day. No, I didn't get a bunch of flowers (my kids know better), some chocolate (they REALLY know better) or a special brunch at my favorite restaurant. Not that I wouldn't have minded having brunch with my family, but unfortunately, I can't go anywhere near a restaurant these days, especially during a Mother's Day celebration. I would eat into oblivion. Even now as I'm typing this, I'm having flashes of M-Day brunches past, and I have to banish all food porn thoughts. (Is there any Remover of Difficulties save God? Say: Praise be God; He is God! All are His servants, and all abide by His Bidding!)

So what did I do on Mother's Day? I talked to my three now-adult-children by phone, read a little, watched some movies, slept a bit...in other words, I had a great time relaxing! You may scoff, but trust me--there was a time in my life when I would have given ANYTHING to have one day to myself to just relax! Being a mom does not coordinate very well with the word "relax". In fact, the word should be used to refer women who haven't had any children, or grandmothers like me who have the delight of watching your offspring go through the rigors of child-rearing.

But the whole point of Mother's Day is to let your mother know how much you appreciate her, right? Well, that's my now-adult-children did. They called me without prompting, with no guilt or begrudging sense of "family duty." I am grateful for that, not because I did such a fantastic job raising them. I would love to make that claim, but the truth is, if I hadn't been in 12 step recovery for so many years, my kids would have been doing what I did for years--the old "let's get the flowers and brunch thing over with so I won't feel guilty" trip. Yes, that's what it was like for me. I did Mother's Day with my mom because I didn't want her to feel hurt or that I was slighting her. I wish I could honestly say that I did it because my mother and I had a very close and loving relationship, and spending Mother's Day with her was one way I could demonstrate my love and appreciate her. Don't get me wrong. I did love my Mother, God bless her and may she be comforted in the afterlife by resting in eternally Loving Hand of God. But our relationship was one of constant tension and enmeshment. It never felt comfortable, not even on Mother's Day. Perhaps ESPECIALLY on Mother's Day.

Looking back, there was much I could have done to alleviate the tension between us. But I was too wrapped up in it, and I couldn't see my way out of the buried anger and resentment. In fact, I must say that the anger and resentment was mostly pettiness and immaturity on MY part. I began to see that as her condition began to progress toward terminal. By that time, I had entered recovery from food addiction, and my part in the drama was uncomfortably apparent to me. Being abstinent from flour, sugar and excess portions does that. It isn't all about being able to fit into smaller sizes, believe me.

I've learned a lot from the years I did recovery work in Adult Children of Alcoholics, Overeaters Anonymous and Al-Anon, and much of it had nothing to do with keeping the flour, sugar and excess portions out of my mouth. But I did get enough emotional recovery to decide to raise my own children very differently from my own upbringing. My mother did the best she could with the knowledge she had at the time. I had more information available to me, so I created a very different type of relationship with my kids. I've let them to BE the wonderful human beings that God created them to be. They needed a mother to teach the rules of the game of life, then step aside and let them experience life on their own. That's what I was determined to do. No more enmeshment or mommy-monster controlling every thought and action in the family. My view was that my children were a gift from God, and I did not OWN them. My job was to guide them into the tricky task of being responsible adults. If anything, I'm awed and humbled by the fact that I was given the opportunity to be their mother. By letting them go and grow, they've become magnificently talented and loving people. I can't take credit for that. I wouldn't have done that if I hadn't sought God's guidance and recovery during my child-rearing years.

So yes, I had a nice, quiet Mother's Day without flowers and food that I shouldn't be eating anyway. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Just being mother to my kids and grandmother to my precious grandson is the best gift I could ever have.

In some respects woman is superior to man. She is more tender-hearted, more receptive, her intuition is more intense.

It is not to be denied that in various directions woman at present is more backward than man, also that this temporary inferiority is due to the lack of educational opportunity. In the necessity of life, woman is more  162  instinct with power than man, for to her he owes his very existence.

If the mother is educated then her children will be well taught. When the mother is wise, then will the children be led into the path of wisdom. If the mother be religious she will show her children how they should love God. If the mother is moral she guides her little ones into the ways of uprightness.

It is clear therefore that the future generation depends on the mothers of today. Is not this a vital responsibility for the woman? Does she not require every possible advantage to equip her for such a task?

Therefore, surely, God is not pleased that so important an instrument as woman should suffer from want of training in order to attain the perfections desirable and necessary for her great life's work! Divine Justice demands that the rights of both sexes should be equally respected since neither is superior to the other in the eyes of Heaven. Dignity before God depends, not on sex, but on purity and luminosity of heart. Human virtues belong equally to all!

Woman must endeavour then to attain greater perfection, to be man's equal in every respect, to make progress in all in which she has been backward, so that man will be compelled to acknowledge her equality of capacity and attainment.

(Abdu'l-Baha, Paris Talks, p. 161)

Miracles

(Angela's note: It's so ironic to go back and read these posts! This was written on September 9, 2008, about six weeks before I walked into the recovery meeting that has transformed my life on a very fundamental level. I thought I knew what miracles were back then. I had no idea what God had in store for me. But I can see that clearly, God was guiding my actions, even more than I ever imagined. Nothing has been a coincidence. And all I have to do is show up and present in my life, without turning to flour, sugar and excess portions for my love, comfort and excitement in life. It's simple. But not easy to do. I can't do it. God has to do it for me, work through me to help me do what must be done to stay alive. I've proven over and over again that I am totally powerless when it comes to food, and my life has been totally unmanageable as a result. Oh, and I have a commitment to being as honest as possible these days. Let it suffice to say that I am abstinent from flour, sugar, excess portions AND relationships with the opposite sex, except with relatives, Baha'i men during meetings and activities, and my recovery fellows who happen to be men. God has healed that part of my life, and I didn't have to do much except work a program of recovery.)

...'God is sufficient unto me; He verily is the All-sufficing!' ....'In Him let the trusting trust.'

(Shoghi Effendi, The Dawn-Breakers, p. 631)

I intended to write a different blog today, but circumstances has created the need for me to do something different. I just have to say first of all, God is not just great, He is Infinitely Patient, Loving, Compassionate and Understanding. He has given me gifts that no pricey material items could ever match. Let me explain.

I have been abstinent for two weeks. Abstinence for me means I eat three moderate meals plus two healthy snacks a day, although I often forget about the snacks. I wake up asking for God to give me the strength I need to get through the day abstinent. If that isn't enough, I'm abstinent even though my parents are living with me. Two years ago, I couldn't stay in the same room with my parents for more than ten minutes before running out for ice cream. Or pizza. Or whatever I could get my hands on. I can remember days when abstinence was a teeth and fist clenching exercise, which inevitably led to a horrible binge. Today, in spite of everything that's going on with my life (elderly parents who are sick, becoming a grandmother, publishing a book, etc.) I'm amazed that I managed to keep away from my binge food for this long and remain relatively calm. But it isn't me. It's definitely God, because I can't do it. I've proved that too many times in the past. It is about trusting and relying on God for today.

I had a wonderful, very healing time this past weekend. Again, I trusted in God and took off for San Francisco to spend some time with a man who has been a good friend to me. Everything that happened made me realize that I had been living in fear of getting close to any member of the opposite sex since my divorce twenty years ago. I've been at half mast ever since, but in one crazy, adventurous weekend, I came back from the dead. Resurrection is miraculous.

When I came home, I pulled out my Virtues cards and shuffled them. When I was done, I reached into the deck and pulled out what I thought was one card, "Cooperation". It said, "Cooperation is working together for the good of all. It is the willingness to stand side by side and use different gifts each of us has to offer. We seek common good in service of a unified vision."

As a Baha'i, I know cooperation is essential for unity. But as Linda and Dan Popov pointed out during the weekend at Bosch, sometimes Baha'is forget that our Faith is also personal. We get the global vision of unity, but what about becoming a person who is unified from within, cooperates and trust God with all of the day to day tasks of living, and in turn has more energy, time and talent to offer in the service of mankind? I know that I need to depend on God for everything, and I need to listen without judgment so that I can do what's right, for myself and for others. When my Dad starts drinking, I depend on God to help me see him as person who is ill, not judge him for what he didn't do when I was younger. Same thing with my Mom. As the cooperation card also said, I need to "...look for ways to be helpful and ask for help when we need it. We do not isolate or harbor our loneliness."

Asking for help has always been extremely difficult for me. Isolation seemed so much safer. But that's in the past now. There was another card stuck to the cooperation card. It was "Courage".
It read, "Courage transforms fear into determination. It is embracing life fully, without holding back, doing what must be done even when it is difficult or risky. When we are tempted to give up, courage supports us to take the next step. It allows us to face adversity with confidence."

This past weekend, I was given the gift of embracing life fully. Now I'm going to need courage to support me while I take the next step, or next few steps. Yesterday, my mother began to wail inconsolably as I prepared to leave for work. I thought she was having some sort of anxiety attack. My father called 911, and the ambulance took her to the UC Davis Medical Center while my father and I followed in the car. There wasn't much to do when we got there because the doctors were running a battery of tests and evaluating her condition. I knew the process would take hours, so I went to work.

This morning, I was dressing for work when a call came in. It was the social worker from the Medical Center. Because of my father's alcoholism, I was granted conservatorship of my mother's medical and financial affairs by the courts four years ago. So it made sense that the social worker would call me.

"We need you to come to the hospital to discuss options for your mother."

I'm trusting God to give me the courage to do whatever needs to be done.

Back from Bosch part 2

Then Mari asked me another question. "What would help you cry so you can heal?" I was dumbstruck by that one. Then, while I was sitting on the couch with no idea how to answer that question, I heard a voice say: ask Dan Popov to tell you a story. Immediately, I went into resistance. Uh, uh. No way. No flippin' way am I going to ask Dan Popov to tell me a story! That is the most absurd, ridiculous thing I've ever heard! What does that have to do with getting me to cry so I'll heal? After several minutes of arguing with the Concourse On High, Mari figured I had received instructions and I was resisting them. So she asked me what I heard. And I told her. She said, "Ang, you KNOW you have to do this." That's when I began arguing with Mari. Luckily, she's used to it. Finally, she said, "We have to go find Dan." And she practically pushed me out of the door, despite my loud and persistent protests.

As we walked out of the lodge, I received a very clear picture that we would find Dan sitting at one of the little white tables on the balcony of the main lodge. Mari, who seems to know when I'm getting those kinds of pictures, asked me where he was. "I don't know," I grumbled (God doesn't like ugly or lying.) "Let's just walk up to the library." I figured I would duck into the library, claim I was too tired to continue looking, and bury myself in book. Then, as Providence would have it, the dinner bell rang. "Well," Mari said, "we could look for him after dinner." Saved by the bell, I thought as we headed for the main lodge.

When we got there, we could clearly see Dan through the window, sitting just the way I saw him in my vision. To my chagrin, Mari pointed out the obvious and asked me what I wanted to do. I may be stubborn, but I'm not stupid. It was time to fold. "All right, " I muttered. "Let's get this over with."

I stammered my way through asking Dan to tell me a story, after introducing myself and Mari. "What kind of story would you like hear?" He seemed quite amused by my obvious discomfort.
"I don't know." That was true. The instructions weren't that specific, although I suspected that the right story would come to him. "Whatever comes to mind," I told him. "All right," Dan said, taking off his sunglasses and settling back into his seat. "Have you ever heard my Leroy story?" I looked at Mari, who shrugged. I shook my head.

It turns out that the story was about the World's Most Obnoxious Three Year Old, Leroy. He was a very large toddler who caused havoc and destruction where ever he went. He beat up all other children, attacked and harmed adults, broke everything in sight and responded to all verbal admonishments with disobedience and contempt. In other words, he was a monster. After getting kicked out of several preschools Leroy's anguished parents brought him to Dan for counseling. It quickly became a nightmarish venture, and Dan began to despair Wednesday afternoons, the day Leroy came in to terrorize his office. Even worse, he was at a complete loss as to how to help the boy, and by extension, an unsuspecting world which would some day have to receive Leroy in its midst. In the meantime, the boy's frightened parents didn't know how to stop their child from torturing the family's cat or destroying all their possessions.

One day, while anguishing over the problem, Dan asked God for help. And it came: Find one GOOD to like about the boy, and focus on that. Obviously, this was no short order. Dan had to struggle to find something, anything to like about Leroy. Finally, he decided that the one thing that he has always admired in the world of being is perfect forms. Leroy was one of those forms--he was PERFECTLY obnoxious, hence, The World's Most Obnoxious Three Year Old. THAT was something he could admire, obnoxiousness at its utmost perfection.

When Leroy came in for next appointment, Dan greeted him with a lovingly hearty "Hello, LeRoy! I'm so glad to see you! Would you like to go down to the play room for a while? Leroy was so taken aback by that greeting that he recoiled. When he recovered, he attacked Dan. Dan held him and reminded him that there are only two rules in his office: you don't get to hurt yourself and you don't get hurt me. Leroy calmed down after a while, but as soon as Dan released him, he ran headlong into the wall. Dan got him just before he could smash his skull. For the rest of visit, Dan exhausted himself as he prevented Leroy from acting out his self-destructive outbursts.

The next week, Leroy came in, walked into the playroom and began quietly playing by himself. Dan was astonished. After observing him for awhile, he came over and crouched down next to him. "Leroy," he asked. "What's going on here? You're different. What's changed?" Leroy kept playing as he said, "It's safe here." Dan had no problems with him after that.

"I learned two lessons from that experience," Dan told Mari and I. "Rule number one: always look for one good thing to like about a person, and concentrate on that. Rule number two: people need boundaries so they can feel safe."