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Still on the Warpath: Naiadknight's Battle Tome

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  • Another sporadic poster/lurker dropping in. I guess I didn't say anything cos I wouldn't know what to say, but actually that isn't quite true. The very fact that you are actively thinking about parenting, before it happens, is waaaaay more thought than many people give it. So I'm sure that puts you in the top percentile before you even start.

    I actively chose not to have children, though I now have two by proxy (step-children), and it is amazing the grief you get for making that decision. My response was always that at least I have given it some thought and not just jumped on the same bus everyone else was riding, just because every one else was doing it. (And I'm British you know, find a queue and join it )

    I think you will make wonderful parents, and I know that no matter what you will be doing your best, and that is the most anyone can ask for!

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    • Awww... Thanks, AT. That seems to be the general reaction to my worries over parenthood, so I'm somewhat relieved. For the longest time, I knew I wanted kids, and I knew I wasn't ready yet. I think I've gotten to the point that, if one were to sneak past the birth control, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Geek and I still need to talk about when we'll start actively trying, so I can go off the birth control, but one step at a time.
      Thanks to the Russian Army arriving yesterday, I'm down to 116 and my belly's pretty flat. Yes, I know how counterintuitive that is, but it's how my body works. Gain 3-5 lb during PMS, and drop it like a hot rock the first day of the Crimean War. it'll probably drop another lb or two during this time and hold steady (within a lb or two) until I hit PMS again in 3 months.
      Also worked out last night: walked with Geek and the Froot Loop, 3X5 80 lb squats, 3X5 40 lb bench press, 3X5 40 lb row (need to add more weight to the last two and back off on the squats.) Also did some night time yoga to get my back to stop hurting and help me stretch out.
      Dinner was the last of the apple rice, grilled chicken, a side salad with toms and bell and caesar dressing (which had gone rancid), and a peach yogurt sauce.
      Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
      My Latest Journal

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      • Dinner is chicken tikka masala, spinach, and turmeric cinnamon rice.
        Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
        My Latest Journal

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        • Tonight's meeting was about God and asking for help. (Feel free to skip over this, it's more Al- Anon stuff and religious stuff.)
          I grew up Episcopalian (kissing cousin to Catholic.) God and I split ways in my teens, when the depression set in and my home life was getting pretty rancid. I then studied, sampled, or examined most known religions and faiths on the planet and settled on Wicca/ paganism for awhile. I practiced that off and on for a few years, all the while acknowledging it wasn't perfect, but it was better than anything else so far. I think it was more that it was so different a God(dess) that I could stomach the idea of dealing with it. Later on, I widened that into a variation of pagan Buddhist.
          The reason I left God to begin with was that I considered him to be a lying, cheating scumbag sonuvabitch. What, other than scum, has the power to remove someone from an abusive situation and doesn't? What, other than something lower than dirt and half as useful, has the ears to hear my pleas for help, and ignores a powerless kid just wanting OUT? If he didn't get me out, that meant he sided with my parents and therefor was worse than them.
          That God and I still don't talk. I still don't see his reasoning for making me suffer through that. I still don't see why some omniscient, omnipotent being would let anyone, especially a helpless child, suffer, crying themself to sleep every night, either from pain, exhaustion, or both.
          He was also supposed to be my Father. Pfft. I knew about fathers, and I didn't need a second one to turn on me every other night, just itching to punish me or a sibling. Nuh-uh.
          In Wicca, there was the Mother/ Goddess. That idea made me twitchy, too. I didn't need a second mother to guilt trip me, emotionally blackmail me, or have to watch over. I didn't need someone else to please on pain of causing their death. I didn't need someone else to watch me suffer and not do a goddammed thing. I didn't need someone else to ignore me so they could have their own pleasure. I'd had enough of mothering myself, I didn't need another so- called mother.
          In short, I didn't need a deity to be a parent. I'd had enough bad parenting to last me a lifetime and it wasn't over yet. No need to add to it.
          I needed a guardian. I needed someone who CARED, who gave a shit, who did something for MY best interest, not just theirs. I needed someone I could tell everything to without fear of retribution or pain. I needed someone to actually love me, touch me, be THERE with me when I needed them. I needed someone I could tell all my secrets, worries and fears to and not fear something going wrong.
          I found the All, but it wasn't enough. In a way it was worse, because it was a combination of both Mom and Dad. Not happening.
          Then I found HeSheItThey. It couldn't be one of my parents because I didn't know it's gender or even number of deities. It can resemble whatever deity I need it to that day. It's the guardian I need, the protector I want, and the caregiver I so desperately missed in my life. This, this was what I prayed to whenever I would lift my eyes to the heavens with a "help" or a "Please?" or a "Goddammit, NO!"
          I still have my days where I slip back into my old mode. It's my father, run and hide. It's my mother, cower in fear of her tongue. Gods forbid, it's both, cower in the deepest darkest corner and cry.
          <TRIGGER>
          I just had a memory pop. I was trying to scurry under the bed, so I wouldn't be seen or found. I'm dragged out by one flailing foot. I roll over to see a raised belt and instantly curl into a ball. Better there be sore spots on my back than my butt or arms. I don't know who did what or if I just happened to be an easy target. I do know that it took my mother calling my dad's name several times and taking the belt from him hands before it stopped. Then they both left the room. No comfort from either one on that. Ever. I was expected to lick my own wounds and come up strong. I was always expected to lick my own wounds and come up strong. I was rarely protected from either one and never comforted. Ever. Hugs were rare, kisses never happened, and my family didn't do that "foufou crap."
          </TRIGGER>
          I'm crying. Sobbing, actually. Mourning the childhood necessities I never got. Mourning the childhood love I never got. Why? WHY ME, GODDAMMIT?! Why didn't the people that were supposed to love, cherish, and protect me ever show any of that? Why did this supposedly loving god just stand by and WATCH, sick fuck that He was? Even those that could have acted, didn't.
          Why was I left to raise myself and 2 siblings (plus a mother some days) and protect them?
          I have no answers. The gods don't either. The best I've ever gotten is "it was your turn to experience growth from ashes," which is a piss poor answer.
          Picture a phoenix. One that has been burnt, one that is slowly chiseling its way out of the egg left in the ashes. Picture inside a gorgeous bird, a proud bird, with red and blue plumage and a rainbow sheen. Every discovery, every forgiveness, every wound healed is another crack in the egg. Eventually the egg will break and the phoenix will try its wings in the breeze. But, until then, chip. chip. crack.
          Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
          My Latest Journal

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          • You've just described husband's childhood too - raised by very staunch Catholics. I'm pretty happy with atheism. I don't really understand the search for faith, well, that's not true exactly as I did search, but never found, and settled a good ten years ago on the comforting statement: there is no god. We can make some kind of amends to the child we were by providing better parenting, but for me at least the mourning for what wasn't given to me (as well as the anger about what was) has never lessened.

            Phew, deep stuff. We survived though; and we will never inflict that on anyone else - both good things.
            I like badgers, books and booze, more or less in that order.

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            • Though I never suffered that sort of physical or emotional abuse, I was wise enough to know that it happened to other people, and that was enough for me to decide that there could be no-one watching over us, or they wouldn't let all that happen.

              However, I have been known to ponder this: If they can think of us at all, how are we perceived by ants? And who are we the equivalent of ants to? Who is watching over us, seeing us scurry to and fro and never learning from our mistakes (I am thinking of this on a community, or even species level, i.e. wars, famine, over-consumption).

              More often than not these days, I answer myself with: There likely isn't any one there, and even if there is, they have already proven that they are not going to help/interfere, at least not in my lifetime. Here and now, I am responsible for my own life. While some people might contribute to its pleasure, when it suits them, they will also cause pain - either knowingly or unknowingly. The only person responsible for my where I am in my life and what is happening in it is me. The choices are mine. If I feel like I am having to make the best of something, rather than it being the best there is, then I need to accept that or work on changing it. But no-one else is going to change it for me.

              None of us asked to be here. But if we are considering bringing someone else in to the world then we should be prepared to give them all the love and support they will need to recognise that they alone will be responsible for what they choose to make of their lives.

              Sheesh, who dug out my deep side

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              • Attachment parenting: worth reading about.

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                • I toyed with atheism for a while and came to the honest answer that I innately believe there is SOMETHING out there. Most days, whoever or whatever this is watches us much like a scientist watches a colony of bacteria in a petri dish. Watching, noting, learning for the next experiment. There are other days it seems like a second scientist walk in the lab and occasionally pokes this one, prods that one, or isolates another for further study. I just landed in the wrong petri dish as a kid. Most days, I'm ok with it. I got out, I've gotten stronger and better. There are days where things bubble too close to the surface and must be dealt with, like yesterday.
                  Geek and I spoke yesterday about kids. With things being how they are and several other plans we've got rolling, we're looking to have me go off BC in the fall and earnestly start trying about 6 months later (roughly around my birthday.)
                  I've looked into attachment parenting and am still looking into it. I'm looking into a lot of theories and methods right now, but I realize Geek and I will evolve our own methods of raising kids once they appear, even after reading every book and article on it.
                  Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
                  My Latest Journal

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                  • For those curious as to my before and after photos, see below. I was unable to find a decent photo for my before, so you'll have to settle for my wedding day pic.

                    Before


                    EDIT:
                    I found one from 2012 that shows my weight and inflammation loss more clearly. This one was after 5-8 lb lost.



                    After


                    I'm rather happy with those results. As to how drastic they are under the dress, let me reemphasize: I lost over 20 lb on a 5'2" small framed body.
                    Last edited by naiadknight; 03-13-2014, 01:08 PM.
                    Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
                    My Latest Journal

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                    • Originally posted by naiadknight View Post
                      For those curious as to my before and after photos, see below. I was unable to find a decent photo for my before, so you'll have to settle for my wedding day pic.
                      Fantastic results NK. I have only before photos it seems
                      Though the scales are moving again now so I am not complaining (well not too much)
                      Great job!
                      link to my journal http://www.marksdailyapple.com/forum/thread97129.html

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                      • NK your wedding dress is luscious, makes you want to touch it!

                        We are about the same build (though I am A LOT older), I started primal at 142 and now weigh around 115. Have to say your weight is much more attractively distributed, I have almost nothing on top and carry my weight in my abdomen.

                        Sounds like you and geek are doing what we did prior to having our son, we read a lot, talked about it and ended up doing our own thing.
                        Life is death. We all take turns. It's sacred to eat during our turn and be eaten when our turn is over. RichMahogany.

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                        • Thank y'all for the compliments!
                          Jac, you'll get there. It's just a matter of what works for you.
                          UF, I still use it every year for the Renaissance Festival we go to. I got it because not only does it feel like slippery velvety heaven, but it's machine washable and reusable. In terms of build, I currently have an hourglass figure (mostly.) Gods only know what'll happen when I pop out a podling or 3, so I may end up in your boat. I went from 136 right before my wedding day to 113 as of this morning. I do think it actually would have been less had I not built up more weight in muscle as I went. Then again, muscle lies flatter and looks better than skinny, so I'm not complaining.
                          As to how we'll raise the podling(s), that pretty much how we attack everything. Research the hell out of it, talk the hell out of it, come up with a plan, and modify the plan as we need to.
                          Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
                          My Latest Journal

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                          • I've found this book to be genuinely helpful at a practical level: How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk: Adele Faber, Elaine Mazlish: 9781451663884: Amazon.com: Books

                            But perhaps the best book ever is Amazon.com: They F*** You Up: How to Survive Family Life: Explore similar items It alerted both of us to things we carried (and also gave us a framework to understand each other's oddities) that years of therapy had not.

                            ETA: looking damn fine, btw.
                            I like badgers, books and booze, more or less in that order.

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                            • Those books look like they'll be interesting. I may see if the library has one or both.
                              Dinner was turmeric rice, avocado, pulled carnitas, and homemade kimchi. The kimchi turned out well, although I think it could've gone another day or so and I should've rinsed off more of the salt. It's still really tasty. Tangy, salty, spicy and every so slightly fishy. Everything kraut should be with none of the nastiness of kraut. I think I need to get more cabbage and more salt so I can always have a jar (or three) in the fridge.
                              The pickles are still going. I had an issue with one trying to float up to the surface, but I was able to wedge it down with it's brethren before it went moldy. I may need to give them a few extra days because of that, we'll see.
                              I am still mildly curious about making my own kombucha, or if I could even just ferment orange juice. I'd be afraid of accidentally making alcohol with the juice, though.
                              The doc might be right about the GERD, blast him. We'll see what the numbers look like, but I don't have the after meal asthma flare (that I didn't realize was an asthma flare) tonight after taking a Zantac before dinner. I also don't have as much post nasal drip. Frak. Now to figure out what to do if it is GERD, because I'm sure as hell not taking Zantac my whole life.
                              ETA: FUCK! My Peak flow is 400. If my numbers keep going up, he's right. Means my next step is to fight the GERD, if that's the case.
                              Last edited by naiadknight; 03-13-2014, 07:46 PM.
                              Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
                              My Latest Journal

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                              • Check out Chris Kresser's articles on GERD and heartburn etc. Very good stuff (4-5 posts/parts I think).

                                *hugs* It's okay to mourn the things we lost out on in childhood. Most people spend most of their adult lives doing that and trying to fill those voids without realizing it.
                                Depression Lies

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