Day One and Two

I'm not going to sound any sort of celebratory horns or alarms or anything, but I might be willing to admit that I survived my first two days of a cleanse. I'm not quite sure if the funny ups-and-downs are supposed to even out but I can only assume that if I'm feeling as good as I am by today - Day 2 - I might actually make it to see the springtime.

First and foremost, yesterday - Day 1 - sucked. Empirically. We had committed to a house photo shoot with one of my dearest friends (and incidentally the nice lady who makes our house look good). A good idea at the time (and still in hindsight) - I didn't however think about that particular combination of events on that particular day. If you combine not having eaten your typical wheat-y breakfast with moving a bunch of your stuff around ("staging" they call it) and slugging back a bunch of weird tasting tea that makes your stomach feel emptier, well, you've got a cocktail that is going to send you straight off a precipice. I should have read the paper a little more closely when it told me that certain side effects of a detox might include sluggishness, withdrawals, and resurgence of old emotions (wha?) (i.e. anger, grief, anxiety) (Oh, those... yes). I think I was able to run down that checklist rather quickly in the last hour of the shoot - nothing makes me more angry, grief-stricken, or anxious then moving chotchkies all day for no reason. My desire to detach and nap got stronger than I expected and this was only 6 hours into it. A menial amount of panic began to set in.

After I took a shower (2:30 pm), the sun came out and I opted to go for a walk. One of the stranger side effects of this whole thing is this mental block I have that I can't or maybe shouldn't be out socializing in "my condition." And what is stranger still is that since I've made the decision to say NO to a bunch of things, I forget there is a lot I can say yes to. Leaving the house is a good one, for instance. Simply put, my diet isn't actually changing that much and I've managed to have good meals, etc. But what is a bit trickier is realizing how much of my life revolves around food and going out for drinks. Namely, my life outside of the house. I drove around for 15 minutes today figuring out how to reconcile my desire to not go home after the lunch I had but also figure out what to do with myself if I wasn't going to sit and drink coffee or wine. Ultimately, I opted to drink tea for two hours and finish my book. What I find considerably strange is that I had to systematically run down a mental list, prioritized by habits and urges, scratch off the first tier of preferred activities and then figure out what on the second tier was a healthier approach (and fit within the bounds of my fragile asceticism). Why was tea so far down the list?

I marvel at the level of engagement this cleanse requires and I'm a bit ashamed by the level of auto-pilot I have been on. I like to see myself as a conscious, thoughtful person (and I have my moments for sure) but when it comes to my body and what I put in it, I have just quit thinking. More and more it has become obvious that I am absolutely ready to reprogram myself and not just lose some love-handles or whatever. I am actually craving discipline, the kind I had when I was at university that would keep me from drinking on a week night because of class or the idealism that kept me seeking new vegan recipes instead of gorging on a plate of jalapeno poppers (not a regular occurrence but get me a pint and I might ask for a side of Velveeta). The way I write about this one would think I weigh 200 pounds or that I actually eat REALLY bad food. I am keenly aware that my "bad" is much better than most of the population's "good" and I think that is part of the reason I want to improve. When you really know your potential, no matter what the common denominator is, you want to live up to it. I am world-famous in my family for being hard on myself and this might sound ridiculous to those of you who know me, but I derive a lot of energy and motivation from the carrot at the end of the stick: there's always room for improvement.

Being that I used to be a pretty good athlete and recuperate from sickness quickly (if I get sick at all), I can say with some confidence that I have solid, healthy genes. Not everyone has been graced with as healthy a lineage as I am privileged to have (though we have our other problems, believe me) - so do I not owe it to myself, if not my history, to take care of these genes and make sure I pass them off in as good a condition as I received them? It only seems fair as I do that with the books and movies I borrow.

These are the things you think about when you're drinking gallons of tea by yourself in your house between the 3 movies you rented (and will probably watch, return tomorrow, and get 3 more) while crazy amounts of toxins are floating around in your bloodstream, looking for a way out. Because what the hell else is there to do?