Alexandra’s Reverie

Hump Day

Also known as Day 21 of my liquid fast. I'm taking some liberties there, because I'm also having some puree of soup and other things that wouldn't technically be part of a juice fast. Whatevs. At this point I just want a boiled potato. That would be heaven. I'm not that hungry – I'm still getting plenty of calories through my juice and stuff, but it's the COLD. I feel like a bucket of ice. I'm just craving deep down for something cooked. Something hot. With a little fresh spice and not even that much oil or fat. Just cooked veggies. Fresh fruit. A nice salad. Heaven.

But I'm going to try to stick with this a little longer, in any case. I was hoping to get to Day 28, but at this point I'm not trying to kill myself or push it too hard. 28 days would be fine, if I could take more time off of work, or if my husband wasn't on my schedule, on a militant cleaning spree. If I could kick back more, and just chill, it would definitely be easier. But this is 2020, and to be honest, I'm lucky I'm doing as well as I am.

So a round of juicing tomorrow for me – perhaps my last, we'll see. And take it from there. I might just take it through the weekend, who knows. It would be nice to have something besides juice for Thanksgiving. It would be really nice to have something cooked – like a sweet potato. Oh man, that would be the shit. I guess I could do that, too. I could start transitioning soon, so that by Thanksgiving Day I'm cooking myself a nice sweet potato, having a nice salad. A tiny plate of food, but food. That would be nice.

But I think sleep/rest is the biggest missing ingredient here, so I'll start with that. To bed early tonight, and try more juice tomorrow. See how I do. At least make it to the weekend. If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. I'm not trying to overdo it. I'm trying to heal my body, and it's come leaps and bounds since I first started this 3 weeks ago. Back then, I was feeling it in my kidneys, gallbladder, spleen, my other organs. Everything around my mid section. It wasn't good. Fever, pain, extreme fatigue. You name it. And while I'm tired, detoxing, in a fog, emotionally projectile vomiting, and fantasizing about cooked food (torturing myself with Sopranos Youtube videos focused just on the food), I still have to take a step back and appreciate just how amazing my body is, to come back from that. To heal. I don't crave potato chips now, nor dairy, or meat. I crave vegetables, and fruit. I am grateful to have that reset, and I intend on keeping with it as long as I possibly can. I told God I would do what it takes to heal myself, and I meant it. That doesn't mean I'll be perfect, or do 28+ days of juice fasting if I can't do it in a kind way for myself, but I will not backslide like I did this summer. That, I will NOT do. Because I have to get serious, I have to get real about my health. If I ever want my adrenals, my thyroid, and my internal thermostat to ever work again, I HAVE to take care of myself. I just do. No alcohol, no caffeine, no dairy, no eggs, very little meat, and almost no processed foods. No sugar. That means no eating out, or very little. Again, I won't be perfect, but I'll be committed to my health. And that is something new. I haven't given myself as much of a chance before. This will be it. 2020 wasn't it. Well, it tried to be. 2021 will be it, for real. It has to be.

In the meantime, I pray to God for His guidance, His love, and his support in this cleanse and spiritual reset. I pray for health, and I will do what it takes to get it. Thank you, Jesus. Amen.

Just Long Enough

To realize I'm not keeping to my promise to myself to write on this blog everyday. But while David Goggins wouldn't give me any excuses, I'm giving myself a few. Like how I'm already working my ass off at this cleansing stuff. It's quite draining.

Right now, I'm in the doldrums. The nadir of the experience – lifeless, listless, exhausted, with the bile flowing through me and projectile vomiting its way onto others, namely, my husband.

I feel so deprived. I'm in a funk. Just walking around Menards, looking at their food section like a visitor from another planet. Kind bars. Milk in jugs, by the gallon. Something orange that looks like orange juice, but which couldn't be further from the hand-squeezed glass I prepared for myself today. I remember eating this stuff. Some of it is close to food. Most of it not.

Then in our local co-op, that's where it gets hard. The specialty, pricey foods my husband is loading into the cart, one after another – the types of items I would have loved to have purchased, had I not had to manage both our needs month to month. Pay for all of our groceries, and then some.

Whatever my husband wants, though – he just gets. Takes it from the joint account, no problem. While I'm trying my best to be fair and pay for my special supplements and fancy diet items. Not him. He wants a $400 pair of boots – no problem, out the joint account it comes. His friend is heading to Colorado, and my husband wants $700 worth of weed products that last a few months? No problem, just take it from the joint account. And then wonder why I get upset. If I need/want something special, I fucking pay for it, out of my own account. If I couldn't afford it, I would talk to my husband about it first. Ask. But not him. He just does it, and expects me to deal with it.

He's changing, I know he is, but that's the kind of resentment and putrid bile that's pouring out of me like some ecological disaster of a river that's been destroyed by a factory pouring its toxic biohazard waste into for years and years. That's the kind of shit I've had stored in me for years, in little nooks and crannies. Cordoned off, stored up in tight little boxes like tidy tupperware in the fridge. Toxins in my fat. Anger in my gallbladder. Resentment in my spleen. Frustration in my gut. Exhaustion soaking up my adrenals and thyroid. Sadness weighing down my heart. And obsession needling my brain.

It's a shitty place to be, this Day 19 of my cleanse. It should get better sometime, but for now, it's the pits. Physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Just shitty. My being feels like toxic sludge, and nothing seems exciting, except my opportunity to now finally watch an episode of 'Better Call Saul.' It's like the one nourishing thing I can take in right now. Food will evade me for a while yet. At least 8, 9 more days. Thanksgiving won't be Thanksgiving, in the traditional sense. But the Thanks part I can still do.

And despite my shitty state, I am thankful. If that's all I can manage to think or say right now, Thank you, Jesus, for giving me another day, and for helping me through this journey to health and wholeness. Thank you for providing me with your love, and the resources I need to get well. Someday I will get there, but for now, I'm hanging onto faith. Thank you, God. Amen.

Friday the 13th

The rage is boiling in me. I can't stand to see him standing there, in constant prayer. To hear him breathing methodically next to me. To touch me on my back, gently grabbing my jacket like I'm on leash. I just want to flee.

I'm also annoyed, to be fair, at the stupid slow drivers, and the clueless people getting in my way. I'm annoyed looking at people eating delicious, hot, cooked food like its nothing, while I gulp down my next serving of cold juice on a cold day.

Maybe in another universe I'll be healthy enough to build muscle. To be a happy people person, and to actually go out and do stuff. To be happy to see people, and them happy to see me. To actually look and vibe health. To have it not be mistaken, but just glowing, pouring off of me.

I'm pissed. My gallbladder is pissed. I'm pissed that I have to go through another tour of crazy-town with my fuckin' husband. Because it does get easier, but it doesn't get less painful.

I'm pissed because I have to do all this fucking work, just to get to neutral, to zero. And it's still a long way up from there.

I'm pissed that my body can't stand anything less than 80 degrees Fahrenheit. I resent what a cold block of ice my body is, and how inept I am to live in my own climate.

I was craving coffee like a motherfucker this morning. I didn't cave in. I had my Dandyblend. I had my roasted dandelion tea. I had my juice, my water, my ginseng, and my other tea. I did not cave in. I did, just before leaving work, notice a pot of coffee brewed in the breakroom. I poured just a sip, which didn't taste as good as I had dreamt it would. That's good. It also wasn't great coffee. I'm spoiled by my Andodyne blends.

Tomorrow's a new day. Have a 3-day weekend ahead, which is good, because I need the extra rest badly. Today is Day 16 of the juice fast. Apart from dealing with my husband's physic break this week, just being short of sleep while cleansing is enough. It's just enough. My body is doing a lot of work, cleansing and fasting. That's a big job. I'm doing my best to support it, but it's not easy. Not when you're working. Not when you have to deal with your husband's slipping grip of reality.

Of course, that's the rub – I don't know who has more of a grip on reality, him or me. I could be the one missing out. That would piss me off, too. But I imagine the true reality is somewhere between us. Neither of us has it 100% correct. But we can help correct each other, pull each other back from our own precipices, back to our core selves. That's the best thing about us as a couple, as a marriage, and as a spiritual union: we balance each other out. So I'm trying to ride this wave – my own irritable wave, my destressing, my detoxing, my cranky, hangry, tired state – and whateverthefuckthisis that my husband is going through. If I can make it through, it will be better on the other side, I know.

I just have to have faith. Just get through it. Ride the wave. Don't curse out your husband. Don't drink the caffeinated coffee. Don't space out and eat something absent-mindedly. And don't try to solve problems that aren't yours to solve. Give it to God, and mean it. Leave it to God. Don't get your sticky fingers back in there and meddle with it. Just surrender, for real. Just let it go. Let it go. Let. It. Go.

Thank you Jesus. Amen.

Rough Day

Today my husband freaked me out. Again. He's good at that. Right smack in the middle of my work day. My safe space. My happy place, when my life is falling apart.

This, on the same day I'm remembering my boss who passed two years ago. Remembering, but not publicly. Last year was the year for public mourning. I feel like last year no one gave a shit, but me and a few others. I even felt shunned, or just given the awkward silent treatment, for remembering him. Making it known. And yeah, some people – or one person – had something against him. So the plaque and the studio they dedicated to him is no gone. A kick in the balls. So no way I'm going to mourn publicly this year.

It feels like everything I do to honor others, or play by the code, protect the intel under interrogation and even torture, just goes no where. People don't repay you in kind. People don't even remember that shit, nevermind honor you back for it, or thank you for it. Even acknowledge it. It's like I live by an honor code sometimes that no one else lives by. Very few, anyway. The few who do, I don't do a service to, because I'm a cunt in my own way. But I can't tell you now how many times I've taken one for the team, or taken the hits, kept my mouth fuckin' shut, not ratting out my comrades – only to have them desert me or leave me to the fucking wolves in a heartbeat. Desert me with no cover as the enemy comes charging, in droves. Turn me over to the enemy. Reveal the info, or my secrets. All that hard-won, painstaking progress, just handed over to the evil side because of weak, honorless motherfuckers. I'm so burnt out on it, I'm so sick of it.

And now my husband, and the world seems to be