The ocean has a way of healing whatever wounds I am carrying. This weekend, my husband and I are enjoying our Worldmark condo at Gleneden Beach on Oregon’s beautiful coast. It’s just the two of us, quiet, peaceful and without hate talk or thermostat wars. Right now, I hear the roar of the waves and enjoy the dance of flames in the fireplace. It’s almost 11:00 at night, and I’ve turned the tv off so I might simply relish these moments for what they are.
It’s been two full weeks since I’ve cut out sugar thanks to a pre-diabetes warning. I’m enduring diet soda pop, though I still detect that strong artificial sweetner aftertaste. My coffee dilemma’s solved with an allowance of one packet of raw sugar in the joe, and it’s much better tasting. The raw sugar only has five grams of sugar. At this point, it won’t kill me.
The tough part is looking through the December issues of magazines and seeing all the delicious, decadent holiday sweets. Temptation and wistfulness set in simultaneously. Afterall, Christmas and desserts are practically synonymous. But I will prevail. In the past, I was on weight loss programs and made it through the holidays just fine. Now with health incentives, I think I’ll be able to channel the “clapper lady” and “clap off” the sweet treats.
And being at the coast renews my determination. I can reflect on what’s important and go forward from here. When we’re with a big group, the opportunity is often lost in the loud non-stop blare of the tv, boisterous voices or my wounds from hate talk. But in the solitude of now, I’m appreciating the massive Pacific Ocean even in the dark cold night. I am grateful that Jim and I had this time alone. It was just what we needed. I’m ready to tackle sugar, salt and fat into the ground to turn this around.