Once, upon a green and white day, I walked, with shades of blue and grey above, and occasional muted pools of golden light along the way.
Cold and still, it was as, wrapped in thoughts and clothes, I lumbered on, taking weary steps in heavy boots, glad to be out but ill at ease and with no easy motion.
Then, suddenly, up ahead, a quick quiet movement of life and limbs, and fur of warm brown red.
A dog, I thought, at first – but no – a fox!
I stopped and stared, and thrilled at each tight turn.
Alert though not aware of me, she moved, close enough to see the splash of white upon her breast; no cunning vixen, she, with body, mind and spirit in perfect poise and purposeful grace beside the still and silent trees.
Doing what she needed to do. Being what she needed to be.
But then I moved and she was gone.
So I carried on through the green and white day with shades of blue and grey, moving easier now but missing her and wishing, that our eyes had met, that I hadn’t seemed a threat.
For in her hungry hunt for food she had nourished me, and warmed my heart while her cold search went on.
Alone, both, and alive.
She free, and I a few steps closer now, to being me.
I’ve recently read an article in the BBC’s Science Focus journal about willpower.
I’m not a scientist which is one of the reasons why I get this journal every month. I find out about all sorts of interesting things that I wouldn’t hear about otherwise, and it’s generally a really good, accessible read (although some bits go way over my head!).
In this article there was reference to willpower in relation to eating disorders and the impact that meditation and other aspects of mindfulness training can have on the power of the human will.
In my early teenage years, I had to use willpower to start to take control of my own life but eventually had to allow myself to move beyond it and enter that scary place where self-control no longer prevailed.
I still use willpower – to push myself from the point of doing nothing – which I can so easily fall into – to the point of doing something, making a start with decorating my house, for example. But as far as eating is concerned, I seem to have arrived at a much healthier state of mind, where I eat when I’m hungry and recognise the signs when I’m full. I enjoy food – a whole range of different types of food, not just the ‘cottage cheese and crispbread, endless omelettes and no chips diet’ that I lived on for many, many years.
When I concentrated on eating as little as I possibly could every day, I had little capacity to concentrate on anything else. I’m no longer limiting my life like I limited my food intake although I’m not just eating my way into the oblivion of obesity either.
Ironically, the room that I’ve started working on in the house is the dining room. I’ve found a fabulous wallpaper – ‘Mystical Forest’ – and I’m taking my time, doing a bit at a time, and can gradually feel that sense of transition from having to push myself to do it, to getting drawn in to the process of doing it, and taking pride in the way it looks. I don’t think I will gain any interior design awards, but it is a labour of love, to enhance the lovely home that me and my lovely partner are lucky enough to live in.
I had a lovely visit with friends yesterday. They lifted me.
I was late arriving at their house. There had been a road accident and I struggled to find an alternative route. When I phoned them to let them know about my delay, they made sure that I realised it didn’t matter – they just wanted to see me. This meant such a lot to me.
I rested into most of the rest of the evening on my return home, after giving Lydia her tea.
I’m continuing to feed her all her food by hand, as training rewards, either when we’re out on a walk, or at home for her evening meal.
The big treat for Lydia, as part of her evening meal, is a raw bone. Today it’s a chicken drumstick. She waits for 90 seconds on “stay” and then bounds towards me when I say “here”. Lydia loves her raw bone[1]. It’s a high value treat that provides a really good opportunity to reinforce the training and learning we’re doing together.
Trev went out to buy our tea – fish and chips. We have some great chippies round here. I like mine with curry sauce. He has mushy peas. This is a high value treat for us.
A phone call from another good friend also meant the world to me and I slept with a much easier mind that I’d had the other day.
This morning, I wake around 8am.
At some point during the night Lydia went downstairs to continue her sleep in her favourite armchair. She has a bed in the bedroom which she loves but also loves that chair.
When I go down in the morning to make a cup of tea, she turns from her sleeping position onto her back, with floppy paws.
This is my invitation to tickle her tummy, although these days it’s more of a massage.
I concentrate on her neck, upper arms and chest, rather than her tummy. I’m not a trained masseuse, either human or canine, but I focus on muscles and areas where she might be holding a bit of tension. She makes some soft gurgling noises so I think I must be doing OK. To finish, I take hold of each of her paws in turn and give them a bit of a rub. This will, in turn, help her to feel more comfortable when her paws are being held for claw clipping.
Lydia and I have our woodland walk today.
I do some heel reinforcement work on our walk across the field towards the wood, and the walk itself is easy. I only have to do an occasional turnabout if Lydia starts to tug, but she’s not doing much tugging at all. After a full circuit, I decide to go back and do the walk again, from the other direction.
My right knee, that I’ve had a few problems with recently, is much better.
I’m lucky. At 69 I have no serious physical ailments or infirmities to contend with.
To improve the condition and flexibility of my knees, I’ve been doing some physio exercises that I was taught. I also rub in ‘wear and tear’ lubricating gel, morning and evening, take a good quality multi-vitamin and mineral supplement for joint care, and repeat an affirmation:
“My knee is healing, and getting stronger, each passing day.”
It’s easy to forget, when things are going well, what it’s taken to get to that point.
So, I’ll continue with my maintenance regime, and hopefully continue to enjoy the benefits of healthy knees.
[1] Dogs should never be given cooked bones. Raw bones may not be suitable for all dogs. Consultation should always be made with a qualified canine nutritionist and/or vet.
My relationship with food has historically been a difficult one.
As a teenager I went on a strict diet – mostly made up of cottage cheese, crispbread, lean meat and fruit – to keep me at 7/71/2 stone. That was the only way I could feel reasonably good about myself and my body.
Even so, I didn’t think anybody could possibly find me attractive, and I struggled with a very limited life.
If I ever did ‘let go’ and start to eat anything even remotely fattening, my mood plummeted as my weight gained. The only way I could cope was to start restricting my eating again. I had no concept that help or support of any kind might be available; it was a very private and lonely struggle that went on until my mid-40s. After an almost catastrophic catalogue of failed relationships and career stalemate I realised that I had to push through the internal barriers, and keep going until I came out the other side.
20 years on, at 66, I believe I have finally arrived at that point.
I weigh five stone more than I did in my teens, and though I am aiming to steadily lose some weight this won’t be my starving myself – not just of food, but of life.
There are many factors and influences that have helped me to get through, not least in recent years that of my partner, Trev, who makes me feel beautiful just as I am, inside and out. That’s a great gift to get at any age!
I’ve taken on board Buddhist teachings of all kinds, with one fundamental phrase being an enduring fallback: “The mind is a muscle and it can be changed.”
I’ve had to fight and work hard to train and change my brain and was fortunate to find the fight associated with a strong survival instinct when I needed it.
That isn’t to say that I haven’t had moments of self-loathing that threatened to be overwhelming. But I kept looking for and finding ways to be positive, including reaching out to others who were also struggling in the extreme.
I still won’t try clothes on in a shop changing room, and feel no need to put myself through that ordeal. So while this may be evidence of ‘avoidance’ lingering in my psyche, it’s a minor issue as far as I’m concerned, and doesn’t get in the way of me living my life in a full way, including enjoying delicious food.
Glad About 
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