I Pick My Battles, Restrain Impulses—There is a Light at the End of the Tunnel.
I haven't been eating sugar for almost a week. Lately I'd been more tired than usual, and when I read about my friend Tammy's endeavor to do the same, I started wondering if this might have something to do with my malaise. My headaches have been bad lately, and I've been craving sweet things. My sleep has been worse than usual too. I'm not normally a person who has to have dessert, but when I started reading about sugar sensitivity I realized that fruit can cause the same kind of cravings and spikes in blood sugar as refined sugars do. The truth is, if I had to quantify myself based on what I eat, I am probably 30-40% fruit. I eat it with most every meal. Mango or grapefruit and toast or banana in my oatmeal in the morning. Grapes with lunch. An apple and almond butter for a snack at night. I've never really thought about it. But once I started reading, I found that all my favorite things are high in sugar, even if that sugar is fructose. The tomato I had the other day: I knew it was technically classified as a fruit, but when I put a slice in my mouth—pure sugar. And I put tomatoes on everything I can that's savory. My favorite drinks? All the sweetest things. Margaritas, white wine, gin and tonic. Sugar sensitivity can apparently run in families, and my parents are definitely prone.
Almost a week in and yesterday my headache started to get better. Let me be clear. It has been head splitting for a couple of weeks. When I try to have a conversation with someone, I feel my brow furrow and my focus evaporate. No amount of protein, veggies or whole grains can combat how ravenous I am. Withdrawal from fruit? So it seems.
I'm trying to focus on other things. Getting up when I wake in the morning, even if it's at 5 am. Using the couple of hours before I need to get ready for work writing cover letters. Feeding another addiction: gua sha. Years ago, I was introduced to something called the Graston technique at my chiropractor. Someone essentially scrapes over your skin with smooth metal tools to break up the scar tissue in between muscles. It did wonders for my circulation. Lately, my poverty and progressively numbing arms and hands (from whole days spent on my laptop) have led me to seek out an alternative, since the Graston tools cost hundreds of dollars. What I found is that Graston is based in Chinese healing. So instead of spending $800, I invested $25 in one small tool made of oxhorn. In the past I'd tried to accomplish the same thing with a butter knife at home. Let me tell you—it's not easy. The biggest problem I have now is stopping. In place of massage oil, I use jojoba with tea tree oil that I keep in an old jelly jar (everywhere, sugar). When my arms are red and bright from wrist to shoulder, actually putting the tool down is so difficult. It is that good kind of pain. The exquisite kind. The kind you know that if you just endure, soon it will be replaced with healing.
