No rigid rules, labels or dogmas.... just REAL food, for your body, mind & soul!
I don't like to weigh in because it messes me up. I've said it before but it is usually a bad thing for me and I end up either binging or making bad choices (binging is a very bad choice, of course. But I meant binging on raw food too.) Any way, I had a doctor's appointment and they weighed me on day 45 (June 15th) and lo! I had taken off 35 lbs in those 45 days. If you add it to what I had managed to keep off (not much) from the days before I started, I am 52 lbs down from my lifetime highest weight of 406lbs.
Guess what? I did pig out a bit after I weighed too! lol But I was prepared for some kind of reaction from my Brat so I was able to put the brakes on quickly. My body sure does like live food! I feel so good most days, except for my feet, but I have faith that will come too. My clothes are looser and my skin looks great when its not going through a zitty detox, lol. I've had plenty of that too unfortunately.
The remarkable part is that I, who have struggled with compulsive eating all my life, have been able to maintain this life-giving way of eating through some of the hardest times I've ever experienced: being seperated from my son (he had to live at our house alone, for his last month of high school, while I moved it to take care of mom.) Son graduating and immediately going off to be a camp counselor. My daughter not coming home from the University for the summer. (That one kills me. No kiddos during the summer. I love having them around and we always had so much fun together.) Moving. Getting rid of all my stuff. Feeling sad about watching my stuff I liked and had so many memories walk away with other people. And worst of all: Mom got sick again, and she ended up losing her other leg to amputation. This is the foot and leg that I have nursed and done wound care on for eight years since the other amputation, trying to save it. I feel like I failed her. I feel like I'm losing my mom, piece by piece. The stress of not knowing if she would survive the surgery. Mourning the loss with her. This means she can no longer drive, no longer be as independent. This means horrible pain that I didn't want her to have to go through in what is likely the last year of her life. It means more hospitals and rehab facilities and learning to do simple things like transfer from a wheelchair to a bed. I am so incredibly grateful to still have her. She lost her legs but kept her life.
Raw emotions, and yet a raw diet. Having to face it all "sober" not drunk on sugar and grease. Realizing how angry I am and how I'm not as nice as I pretend to be sometimes. Having to deal with what's really wrong, rather than how best to stuff it down with food.
I am walking in the protection of grace through the fire. I am so grateful that I have no other way to go, no other path. No matter what, I just need to be choosing life, and live food is such a huge part of that. No matter what.