Clare's Chaotic Cacophony

This is my little piece of cyberspace where I chronicle events in my life. Where I can vent, or dream, or wax poetic… Grab a heavily alcoholic beverage and join me, if you will.


Sometimes you just need to adjust. You may need to adjust your mindset, your way of life, or how you handle things. We all have to do it from time to time causing varying degrees of excitement, discomfort, or even pain. The old saying tells us, “No pain, no gain!” and it’s true, but oftentimes it’s little comfort. It’s far from an inspiring mantra that you chant with warmth radiating in your soul, and closer to “it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah”. However, from change often comes growth, even if it’s hard to see it in the beginning. The beginning is always the hardest time…the adjustment to a new way of things.

I’ve started using a new hashtag in my Instagram account: #adjusting. I’m adjusting now, or at least I’m trying very hard to. At a doctor’s appointment a few weeks back, I found out that some of my atypical symptoms popping up were being caused by yet another kind of hormonal disorder. Hormones are bitches. Especially in my family. You know when you go to the doctor and they start asking for your family medical history? Mine usually sounds like a cross between a cautionary tale and a horror story. So I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. The fix was simple enough, a second pill regimen to begin, however, this tiny pill came with a big dietary caveat: no alcohol, and do not eat any starches or sugars. Now, in my recent endeavors to “live healthy”, I’d cut back on carbs and sugary things dramatically. If a really amazing looking cookie crossed my path though? You only live once. Eat the cookie and move along. But now, no cookies ever. Or wine! No breads, wine, pastas, wine, rice…and then my doctor started listing things like peas, beans, and even carrots! And did I mention wine?!? I seriously walked out of that office defeated. I sat downstairs in the lobby wallowing in depression while at the same time realizing I was being one big walking first world problem. I was told to lay off booze and starch, for cripes sake, not that I had cancer! What was wrong with me? I could do this. I love bacon, after all. Time to fight.

Well, it’s been two weeks since eliminating all starches and sugars from my diet. I’ve been through the headaches and the “LowCarb flu”. I’ve had good days and bad. I’ve had slumps where one more cheese stick or strawberry rather than a big apple seems like my death knell. I’ve also realized what a deep, borderline unhealthy relationship I have with food. I depend on it way too much. I’ve blogged before about being an emotional eater, and this dietary change has proven to me that I eat my emotions…every single one of them. With that comfort measure gone, it’s been depressing. Being depressed over a lack of cookies, then makes me feel guilty again, which brings about, you guessed it, more depression. There are days that I want to whine and stomp and pout like a complete brat. This may have come to a head last weekend when I unloaded a torrent of whiny texts on my dear, poor older sister. Afterwards, however, I realized I had to make a change. I had to adjust my way of thinking. I needed to do some #adjusting.

Some of the wisest words in cinematic history.

I started by hopping up from my one-person pity party and making a new recipe. I altered a recipe for Impossible Pie to be low carb and popped them in the oven. I messaged Jason and told him that when they picked up Whataburger, to get the Ranch garden salad with grilled chicken for me. And you know what? That salad was amazingly delicious. Whataburger’s grilled chicken breast was just full of flavor mixed into a very generous salad. Also, Jason actually ordered the exact same thing I did. To pass on Whataburger for a salad to be supportive? THAT is true love, people. 😉  The Impossible Pie was delicious. It was sweet, creamy, coconuty and hit the spot. Since then, I’ve tried to focus on making the ordinary, extraordinary. I made my stash of roasted chicken in the fridge exciting for lunch by warming it with shredded cheddar and topping it with my adjusted version of Pico de Gallo and sour cream. I’ve tried out a few different desserts since the pie, and while they haven’t all been winners, I know they can be adjusted. Instead of focusing on how shitty I feel not being able to eat my beloved cookies, I’m trying to focus on the fact that I never feel weighted down after meals anymore. Food comas and sugar crashes are a thing of the past. I feel full but not like Jabba the Hutt.

This. All of this.

So I will continue to adjust. I really have no choice but to prevail…there is no cheating when dealing with medical issues. Doesn’t mean I can’t try to enjoy myself (or at least not be a miserable pouty lump) along the way. 😉


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