Abundance and Crumbs

This post has been floating around my head for a few days now, and hopefully this moment is right to try to convey the thoughts. :) The inspiration comes from a recent post by Ange and a slightly older one by Brooke. It has to do with what I am doing, and what I am not doing.

Ange talked about the concept of 'abundance mentality.' It's about focusing on the wonderful, tasty, fresh and healthy foods which we can eat in plenty and which are good for us, as opposed to having a mindset of "can't have this, can't have that, can't have anything I like" and thinking only about the foods which we 'can't' have because our diet says so. Ange makes a very valid point in saying that such restrictions can be enough to turn one off a diet which is based on them, and that they lead to the feeling of limitation/deprivation.

I couldn't agree more! :)

Brooke talked about the concept of 'tasting every crumb.' That is, basically eating without distraction, focusing on what is on your plate rather than on the TV screen or on a magazine, being fully aware of, and tasting and savoring, every single bite. Making space and making time to focus just on eating, and eating to enjoy and to nourish our bodies, as opposed to eating just because food is there.

Once again, I couldn't agree more! :)

So what do you think I'm going to say now? That I love those two concepts and that I'm going to challenge myself to incorporate them into my life? Wrong! :)

As I said above, this is about what I am doing and what I am not doing.

I'm no stranger to various challenges involving cutting a given food product (or group) from my diet. I have done this for years, though the weight loss factor only made an appearance in this equation relatively recently.
Sweets tended to be my favourite choice, simply because it was an indulgence, not a staple, and thus something easy to exclude. Sometimes it was all sorts of sweets, sometimes it was all sweets but an item or two, sometimes it was just ice cream or one specific kind of pastry. I have gone without sweets - or ice cream, or chocolate, or anything else I picked - for months at a time. Sometimes I set specific time frames, like a number of weeks or months, sometimes more vague ones, like 'for the summer', and sometimes I set no time limits at all and just rode the wave for as long as I felt like it. There were no regrets, not feelings of deprivation. Just a sense of accomplishment and pride -yes, I was proud of my strong will! :)

I have tried to apply this to weight loss. Sometimes I was successful, but sometimes I wasn't. Overall, I do not consider my efforts to have been successful. Even if I decided to give up a certain kind of food for a set period of time and stuck with it, that feeling of accomplishment wasn't there, and often I would subconsciously 'make up' for the period of 'deprivation' later on. If I was being successful, I often couldn't shake away the feeling of 'deprivation' and frequently craved whatever it was that I was denying myself.
At the same time, I knew that I could do it, that I was strong enough and capable of giving up that food for an extended period of time without regrets. Not living up to that standard only increased my frustration with myself.

What was the difference?
Well, in the first instance I was giving things up just because, no strings attached. In the first instance, no matter how many times I'd tell myself that it was just like giving something up just so, it was simply impossible to get past the fact that in truth, there were big strings attached. The big strings known as expectations.
I would expect that if I restricted or gave up food group X, the number on the scale would go down, or the circumference of my hips would decrease, or that there would be some other reward. It was no longer just about feeling in control or proud of my determination.

After a while, I realized that I simply could not think along the lines of "Eating chocolate doesn't help with weight loss; therefore, if I don't eat chocolate, I should lose weight." That was equivalent to setting myself up for failure. If there was no reward on the scale (as would often be the case, since weight loss obviously isn't just about excluding chocolate)), I would feel cheated and deprived, and would crave chocolate even more.

However, there have been periods when the method worked - that is, I gave something up and persisted without the feeling of deprivation? It took me a while to figure this out, but eventually it clicked:

It was a decision. I would simply tell myself "I am not eating this." And it would become a fact. Once it was a fact, I would not go back on it.

The mindset and the way I phrased the decision were key. It couldn't be "I am not going to eat this or that" - because this could lead to delaying the day when I would actually stop eating it and start the 'not eating.' It could not be "I can't have this food" - that would lead to questioning why. The answer to the question would be always the same: because I want to lose weight. Well, what if I have been giving this food up for a while and haven't lost any weight, what's the point?

Yes, there is a point to all this. :) It has to do with Ange's thoughts about having a mentality of abundance. :)
Once I decided that a given food or food group was out, I did not go back on or question my decision. Instead, I embraced all the other things I could enjoy, focused on them, and enjoyed them to the fullest. I thought about what was abundant, not about what was off limits. I've been doing this for years, subconsciously. It has worked. I'm looking forward to continuing that. :)

'Tasting every crumb' is a whole different story though.
Even before Brooke wrote about this, I realized that it's been a very very long time since I've actually focused on the food on my plate and made it the centre point of a meal. I am blessed to have eating space and a table in the kitchen at my current apartment (in the past, there was either no spare table which could be used for this purpose, or not enough space). Yet I not eaten a single meal at that table since I moved in last September.

It's not that I do not care about what I'm eating or that I do not let myself enjoy it. I'm not trying to hide what I'm eating - even just from myself. There are two main reasons: learning and priorities. I eat at the computer table because it's convenient, because I can check my email, read blogs or catch up on other websites I follow. Eating this way saves time, and time is not something I have much of these days. The computer provides a cover up for the emptiness around me - there is noone to talk to, noone to share the meal with. But mostly, I simply do not feel that food is important enough to deserve my full attention. In other words, it's not a priority.

I grew up in an environment where food was only food, something to feel your stomach with and satisfy hunger. The taste, the appearance, the setting didn't matter. Sit down meals with everyone present happened once in a blue moon - usually at Christmas or Easter, and always at a relative's place. Everyone was always going their own ways, and my mother not only knew nothing about cooking, but also didn't care how anything tasted like. Anything was good food as long as it was some food.
Even when more or less everyone was at home, we'd often eat at different times and usually different things - you'd make something - anything - yourself and call it a meal. Early on, I developed a habit of having my meals at my study desk, and always with a book. Any family gatherings were torture. I could not read, I would be made to eat a lot more than I wanted (and had space for in my stomach) - and the food rarely was something I looked forward to. And I would be asked questions and would have to play the sweet nice girl, straight-A student and the pride of her parents. I hated it.

So yes, tasting every crumb is a concept very alien to me. Most of my life, the food was far from enticing, so there was no desire to go after the crumbs - or to really savour anything. One day - soon - I hope to have a home where I can experience that first hand. For now, what I really miss is a couple of chapters of a good book over dinner.

Reading while eating might not be the best - or the healthiest - for me. :) I am fully aware of that. :) But it's a lot better than scoffing food down in front of the computer. Usually I can't wait to finish eating and get rid of the plate, so that I can access the keyboard and type something up. I eat fast, too fast, and find myself surprised when the food is gone. Sometimes I still feel hungry, too. With a book, I'd take my time - because the longer it took me to finish the meal, the longer I could read. It was easy to tell when I was satisfied.

The two concepts put forth by Ange and Brooke helped me get a clearer perspective and see what I've written out above. As I said, it's about what I am doing (focusing on what's abundant) and what I'm not doing (tasting every crumb).

However, if you're expecting action on that second one, disappointment is forthcoming. There won't be any for a while yet. :) I will try to incorporate some dinner reading once uni finishes (at the moment I can't take the risk of getting so drawn into a book that I end up sacrificing school work, which is something I'm very prone to). But tasting the crumbs will have to wait. For now, I am satisfied with making this important discovery and realizing that this is something that I do want to have in my life, regularly. As soon as the time is right. :)