Feeding The Monster Written By: Niki Ishikawa
I sit here in front of this blank white page with that blinking black line taunting me. I feel pressured and stressed about what this blog post will be about. I have so many ideas of what I could write, but nothing worth posting has yet to come out. I have thought about writing stories of current events going on in my life, but that's not at all what my fingers type. Yes, I want to write about my boys turning six and four and how positively they have impacted my life, yet when I start writing about them, I distract myself with folding laundry and washing dishes. I've played with the idea of blogging about Thanksgiving and what it is that I am so grateful for, but now a week past the holiday is it too late to write about? It doesn't help that I have to keep getting up from where I sit in front of this laptop in order to correct a certain puppy's mischievous behavior. I'm not exactly sure what is going on with me and why I am having such a difficult time writing these days. Maybe it is my perfectionist tendencies. Sometimes I strive to be so perfect it paralyzes me, preventing me from doing anything for fear it will be less than perfect. Maybe it is because I am not feeling very well, feeling clouded with my thoughts and unable to focus. Whatever it is, enough is enough.
As I reread the previous paragraph started a week ago, I now realize it's time to get over myself and just write, no matter how hard I perceive it to be. The last few weeks have been a whirl wind of activity and visiting with family. I haven't really had the chance to sit down and write or truly take care of me. I've been so busy with birthdays, baking blue leopard cake pops and dinosaur fossil cookies for the boys classes, planning and hosting their infamous dual birthday party, enjoying and then cooking a second Thanksgiving dinner and most importantly spending quality time with my family. But today, finally, I can and I will write.
My boys are both at school and my three parents as sad as it is, have all gone back home approximately 800 miles away from me. The dirty dishes from last night's dinner are overflowing from the kitchen sink onto the counter, since my husband sometimes conveniently forgets to do the dishes before going to bed while I am at work, and the endless pile of laundry is calling my name, but today, it can all wait. This is my designated time to write. In order to escape the taunt of household duties and the associated anxieties of seeing them waiting for me, I have fled the house and my usual spot at the kitchen table, driving to the nearest Starbucks and treating myself to my favorite fall drink the Salted Caramel Mocha.
Allergies, smallergies, sometimes I just want to indulge in the chocolatey goodness of a Starbucks Mocha, savoring the sweet salty caramel, regardless of the fact that I am allergic to chocolate and dairy doesn't always agree with me. While I am intentionally inflaming my body, I decide to add the Carved Ham, Swiss and Egg Sandwich to my order, which I am also allergic to. Though for sure made with both yeast and eggs (allergens of mine), the bread is so light, fluffy and buttery, a necessary and delicious vehicle to hold the sandwich together and I want it, regardless of the fact that I am allergic to it. I know I will pay for these indulgences later, but I want so badly to reward myself for finally having the courage and discipline to sit down and write. Besides I haven't restricted any food over the past few weeks. I've enjoyed anything and everything regardless of allergies and autoimmune disease. Not without paying for it though. It creeps up on me, this autoimmune disease. I gradually stray away from my restricted diet, a taste here, a dabble there, and before I know it, I'm like, "F**K IT!! I'M EATING IT ALL. GIVE IT TO ME!!" This hideous pleasure-seeking monster comes alive inside of me and thrives off of every food indulgence I can't have and grows bigger and stronger with every taste, making it feel impossible to avoid the foods I should stay away from. The monster eats and eats, way past the point of feeling full, seeking satiation it will never achieve.
Then I wake up one morning, highly congested, barely able to open my swollen semi-protruding eyes, attempting to move my stiff aching body out of bed, feeling sluggish, lethargic, anxious, completely defeated and depressed realizing all of the sweet and savory food I fed that monster may have been worth it in the moment, but now bring me nothing, but regret, physical and emotional pain. It's like a really bad hangover, but instead of alcohol, I've poisoned my body with sugar, chocolate, eggs and yeast. I touch my neck with stiff aching fingers and feel that it too is swollen and tender to the touch. I am reminded that I do have Graves Disease, no matter how much I've ignored it the past few weeks. Now I know I need to stop lacing my body with poison and take care of myself, no matter how much I crave a particular food, I've got to be stronger than that craving. My boys and my husband need me here for them, healthy, happy and writing.
As I reread the previous paragraph started a week ago, I now realize it's time to get over myself and just write, no matter how hard I perceive it to be. The last few weeks have been a whirl wind of activity and visiting with family. I haven't really had the chance to sit down and write or truly take care of me. I've been so busy with birthdays, baking blue leopard cake pops and dinosaur fossil cookies for the boys classes, planning and hosting their infamous dual birthday party, enjoying and then cooking a second Thanksgiving dinner and most importantly spending quality time with my family. But today, finally, I can and I will write.
My boys are both at school and my three parents as sad as it is, have all gone back home approximately 800 miles away from me. The dirty dishes from last night's dinner are overflowing from the kitchen sink onto the counter, since my husband sometimes conveniently forgets to do the dishes before going to bed while I am at work, and the endless pile of laundry is calling my name, but today, it can all wait. This is my designated time to write. In order to escape the taunt of household duties and the associated anxieties of seeing them waiting for me, I have fled the house and my usual spot at the kitchen table, driving to the nearest Starbucks and treating myself to my favorite fall drink the Salted Caramel Mocha.
Allergies, smallergies, sometimes I just want to indulge in the chocolatey goodness of a Starbucks Mocha, savoring the sweet salty caramel, regardless of the fact that I am allergic to chocolate and dairy doesn't always agree with me. While I am intentionally inflaming my body, I decide to add the Carved Ham, Swiss and Egg Sandwich to my order, which I am also allergic to. Though for sure made with both yeast and eggs (allergens of mine), the bread is so light, fluffy and buttery, a necessary and delicious vehicle to hold the sandwich together and I want it, regardless of the fact that I am allergic to it. I know I will pay for these indulgences later, but I want so badly to reward myself for finally having the courage and discipline to sit down and write. Besides I haven't restricted any food over the past few weeks. I've enjoyed anything and everything regardless of allergies and autoimmune disease. Not without paying for it though. It creeps up on me, this autoimmune disease. I gradually stray away from my restricted diet, a taste here, a dabble there, and before I know it, I'm like, "F**K IT!! I'M EATING IT ALL. GIVE IT TO ME!!" This hideous pleasure-seeking monster comes alive inside of me and thrives off of every food indulgence I can't have and grows bigger and stronger with every taste, making it feel impossible to avoid the foods I should stay away from. The monster eats and eats, way past the point of feeling full, seeking satiation it will never achieve.
Then I wake up one morning, highly congested, barely able to open my swollen semi-protruding eyes, attempting to move my stiff aching body out of bed, feeling sluggish, lethargic, anxious, completely defeated and depressed realizing all of the sweet and savory food I fed that monster may have been worth it in the moment, but now bring me nothing, but regret, physical and emotional pain. It's like a really bad hangover, but instead of alcohol, I've poisoned my body with sugar, chocolate, eggs and yeast. I touch my neck with stiff aching fingers and feel that it too is swollen and tender to the touch. I am reminded that I do have Graves Disease, no matter how much I've ignored it the past few weeks. Now I know I need to stop lacing my body with poison and take care of myself, no matter how much I crave a particular food, I've got to be stronger than that craving. My boys and my husband need me here for them, healthy, happy and writing.
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