Beware of Health Food

A few months ago I began my process following a Paleo diet.  It has definitely been a process of trial and error and overcoming some of my preconceived notions about what was healthy vs. unhealthy.  Of course, being a self proclaimed "foodie" I was ecstatic when I stumble upon food blogs brimming with delicacies, all Paleo approved!  It wasn't long before I set off baking Paleo cookies, cakes, pancakes, etc.  "It's healthy..." I thought.

Then, a few weeks ago I came across an article that described me perfectly.  Was I getting "too good" at Paleo?!  The fact is that we've heard lots of the facts about "health" food really being worse for us than the original full fat version.  Things like low fat or no sugar products are often stuffed full of other undesirable ingredients to fill in the gaps left by the fat, sugar or calories that have been removed.  Often times this is more salt, or more sugar (in low fat products) or even chemicals to mimic the 'natural' item that has been removed. A simple label comparison can reveal this, so that's not my emphasis.

Just like the Paleo blogs that allow us to replace all of our guilty pleasures with 'healthier' versions without changing our mentality.  The fact is that even the overly processed nonsense from the grocery store shelves is not going to kill you if it maintains it's appropriate place in our diet.  A few potato chips at a graduation party is fine, half a bag of potato chips because it's a Tuesday afternoon and you're bored is not.  I say all of this because I've really been focused on changing my mentality about the recipes that I see.  Today I saw a recipe to make brownies that were "guilt free" made with a meal replacement shake.  As I read the ingredient list my jaw hit the floor as I was thinking HOW IN THE WORLD ARE THESE GUILT FREE?!?!

The recipe called for:

4 scoops of shake mix
1 1/4 c of agave
1 full 16oz jar of almond butter
2 eggs
1 cup of dark chocolate chips
vanilla
salt
baking powder

I was intrigued, so I started to factor up the nutrition and was completely blown away by the results.  Now, the recipe didn't specify how many servings it made, so I used a standard Duncan Hines comparison of 20 servings as a guide.  Here is what I found...

This is the nutritional information for the "guilt free" brownie.  Boasting  nearly 300 calories and as much as 22 grams of sugar!  One of the selling points was the high protein, but in my opinion, this seems a little disproportionate.  Considering the shake mix itself contains almost 1/3 the calories and double the protein!

This nutrition on the other hand, is for a standard Duncan Hines boxed brownie mix.  It contains almost 70 fewer calories, 4 less grams of fat, 3 less carbohydrates and a full 7 grams less sugar!  That's right, the "bad" brownies are actually lower on all of the key factors!  Now before you jump all over me, I'm certainly not advocating going out and eating box brownies.  I also can clearly make the distinction between the presence of grain in the box mix as opposed to the shake brownies.  My point here is that we have to be very cautious what we choose to believe.  Just because something contains "healthy" ingredients, it doesn't give us a free pass, or a guilt free opportunity to chow down.

I've intentionally left out the name of the shake mix, because the truth is that all of the companies do this.  I've seen recipes for everything from brownies to pancakes to ice cream and cinnamon rolls.  I write this as a cautionary tale.  Be critical of what you choose to believe and eat.  If you're really looking for protein, grab a chicken breast, some eggs, or a piece of fish,  not a brownie.  If you want a sweet treat, then eat the brownie, but don't try to deceive yourself into believing that it's good for you.   Be honest with yourself and keep treats where they belong, as an occasional TREAT, not an every day indulgence.

Shifting Focus

For the last several years I have been completely consumed with the focus of losing weight.  It seemed as though every moment of every day, my mind was focused either on the calories consumed or calories burned.  Each morning I would wake up and head straight to the bathroom for the morning pee and weigh in.  The state of my day would be determined by what number stared back at me.  I am ashamed to admit that truth.  I am ashamed to admit that I became terrified of food.  I am ashamed to admit that I allowed myself to believe at some point that I wouldn't have to worry about what I ate anymore.  Most of all, I'm ashamed to admit that I did stop worrying about what I ate.

About a year and a half ago, we knew we were going to be moving.  Alex and I had just returned from a weekend get away for our anniversary when for the first time, I fully indulged in everything that I hadn't allowed myself to eat for the two years prior.  I came home from that weekend feeling bloated and seeing a dramatic increase on the scale.  I wasn't happy.  I also was quite stressed.  Alex was traveling often for work and I was feeling overwhelmed by the thought of moving and handling all of the household responsibilities alone.  My focus was lost.

After several months, we moved.  We moved to a gorgeous house in the city.  We loved it and we loved all of the new local cuisine that was walking distance from the house.  My workouts started to trail off, my nutrition was suffering and though I wanted to care, and I wasn't happy about the way things were trending, I couldn't find the energy or motivation to get a handle on my life again.  Other things in life began to spiral out of control.  I found myself back in the kitchen to cope with stress, instead of the weight room.

I hadn't stepped on a scale for months.  I knew that things weren't looking pretty.  I could feel it in my clothes.  I could feel my endurance slipping away when I did occasionally attempt a workout.  I knew that things were beginning to get out of control.  I could feel the depression creeping back in.  I felt like such a fraud when people would compliment how far I'd come.  I felt angry and jealous as I saw Alex's weight continuously dropping while mine was on the rise.  I would resolve that I was going to get up early and only eat healthy stuff again, only to find myself sleeping until I had to get the girls up and grabbing a cookie first thing in the morning.

It was about 2 months ago, when I had a heart to heart with myself.  I had to remind myself that my happiness is within my control.  I had to remind myself how good it felt when I did good things for myself.  How much happier and more efficient and a better parent I was when I was taking care of myself.  I started again to "try" to eat better, only for it all to fall apart on the weekends when I would come home from work tired and we'd grab take out and a few beers and pass out on the couch.  I knew that I needed something dramatic to help me get focused on my diet again, and that's when I decided on the 21DSD.  The first few days when I wasn't working out and I was seeing the scale move, and I was ecstatic, but I didn't really feel like I was earning it, and it wasn't as rewarding as I remembered.  I lost 10 lbs very quickly, in less than a week.  I was over the moon.  I couldn't wait to see how much I'd drop by the end of the 3rd week.  Week 2 started, and the scale stalled.  I started to get angry.  I started to feel frustrated and that's when I added my workouts back in.  Sure, they were tough.  I got focused and picked back up the weight training that I'd stalled on for 2 weeks.  I was afraid that all of my strength gains had been lost.

I started in, planning to use the same weights that I'd used 2 weeks prior, but knowing that I'd probably have to lighten up.  To my utter shock and surprise, I lifted the weights with ease!  I needed to go HEAVIER!  I was confused, but pleased.  I completed my weight training that week with increased weights on every exercise.  The next week, it was the same story and even though the next 2 weeks only showed and additional 1lb loss on the scale, I didn't care.  I was triumphant on a whole other level.  For the first time I was able to celebrate GAINS rather than LOSES!  For the first time, I can look at myself and say, "Sure, I don't look exactly how I want to look.  I may not be the size that I'd prefer or have abs worthy of showing off (yet!), but I'm getting strong, and I'm fueling my body well and I'll get there."  Gone are the days of losing 10lbs a week, and as nice as that was, I'm ok with that.  I have found a love of weights that I never knew before, and I LOVE it!

Yes, I want to lose weight, at the very least, what I've gained in the last year and a half, and probably then some, but I've made my goals a little more fitness focused and less weight focused.  So, here they are.  Hold me accountable if you'd like.  Challenge me, competition keeps me focused ;) and be ready to celebrate BIG TIME when I meet, and EXCEED those goals!

Goals:

I am giving myself 45 days to try and lose 10lbs.
I currently cannot do any pull-ups.  I will be able to do 5 unassisted pull-ups by the end of the calendar year.
I will complete the Lean Phase of ChaLEAN Extreme (I've completed the other two phases already).
I will begin P90X immediately after I finish ChaLEAN Extreme.  I will not skip any workouts.
I will run the half marathon in 2014.

"...and that's the story of how she slayed the evil sugar monster"

Four weeks ago, I sat at my dining room table, meticulously writing out a 2 week meal plan and shopping list.  I was nervous and fearful, but determined.  It was the first day of my 21-Day Sugar Detox (21DSD).  As I sat there, assessing which level of the plan I thought I should start at, I said to myself, "I like sweets but I'm not addicted to sugar.  This shouldn't be that hard."

Day 1, I was excited.  I had a clear plan of everything I was going to eat that day, but I was irritable.  I was less than 24 hours in and I needed some sugar!  "What is this? I eat healthy!" I thought.  Or at least I used to.  It became glaringly apparent that my diet had been suffering miserably and my cupcake hobby had translated into a full fledged sugar addiction.  The next 4 days were HELL.  I know that sounds extreme, but I fully imagine this being just like withdrawals from a chemical substance.  I was grumpy, angry and ready to kill someone for just a little taste of something sweet.  I was exhausted.  By 7:30 each evening I was completely worn out.  By 8:30 I was typically passed out on the couch.  I couldn't imagine entertaining the idea of a workout.  Every ounce of energy was used simply to pull myself out of bed and actually put some pants on.  I did drop 8 lbs in those first 4 days and I was flabbergasted. 

On day 5, it was like I was a whole new person.  All of a sudden, I could get out of bed without feeling like I need a fork lift, I actually attempted a workout of moderate intensity, and I was feeling positive, refreshed and excited.  This would be the pervasive mentality for the rest of the 21 days. 

I write this, not to brag about my success, but to hopefully answer many of the questions that I've received about the process.   So, here it is:

I did not eat ANY sugar for 21 days.  This includes fruit and even Shakeology (which was probably the hardest part).  While the program does allow for 1 green banana or 1 green apple per day, I very rarely indulged.  This was intentional.  I know that I struggle tremendously with self restraint, especially when it comes to food.  I am one of those people that can't just eat one cookie, but wind up eating half of the batch.  My fear was that if I had a taste of anything sweet, even an under ripe banana, that it would completely throw me off course.  So, what did you eat?!

I ate meat and veggies.  I ate A LOT of eggs and healthy fats.  I ate delicious meals like Greek Style Meatballs, Zucchini "Fettuccine" with meat sauce, smoked salmon and curried cauliflower "rice."  I ate a ton, but I never felt weighed down or bloated--this was the best part!  At the end of week 1 I had lost 10 lbs and was mostly over my sugar cravings.  This is not to say that I didn't crave fruit or occasionally sit across the table from my husband eating a cookie and contemplate how I could drive my fork through his temple to snag a bite...but then again, that might not have been solely about the cookie...

Throughout the process, I realized that there is sugar in EVERYTHING!  I kind of love salsa, and it's practically impossible to find a jar that is lacking sugar.  Even my super high quality favorite organic salsa has the sweet stuff in it (granted it's organic cane sugar, but sugar nonetheless) Since I had recently stocked up on it, I surrendered to no salsa for 21 days.  I created tests for myself throughout the process.  I wasn't going to force my family to detox with me, but it did happen to some extent.  They still enjoyed fruit, and occasional sweet snacks.  I didn't limit their condiments that all contain sugar.  I still baked Easy Bake treats with my little bakers.  I attended a work event with a buffet full of carbs and sugar seasoned meats and huge cakes.  I stood by while all of my friends enjoyed adult beverages, and fought the overwhelming urge to indulge myself.  I attended events at church where there were huge platters of soft and chewy chocolate chip cookies.  I went to an event at my daughter's school where there were towers of pizza and tables full of cookies, cupcakes and other baked goods.  And to my own surprise and triumph, I never once indulged!  Even when my husband lost his job, my daughters were soul snatched and replaced with demon children, my family was suffering tremendous medical issues and all I wanted was a single glass of wine at the end of the day to take the edge off--I didn't. 

Then, something beautiful happened.  I sat one evening at my dinner table, while my family were enjoying mint flavored Klondike bars and I felt completely content NOT to have one.  I sat next to my husband in the car as he and the little one shared a candy bar, and not only did I not want it, I was repulsed by the smell!  As I got closer to the end, it actually started to get more difficult.  Particularly days 19-21.  I started to rationalize to myself.  "You've practically made it, what is one little bite of fruit?"  I had to fight the urge over and over again. 

This morning I was finished with the detox.  I could eat whatever  I wanted.  I had a beautiful fresh pineapple sitting on my counter, beckoning me.  Without missing a beat, I started cutting it up.  As soon as the first morsel was loosed, I popped in in my mouth and instead of the euphoria that I expected, I felt guilt, and a little anxiety.  As bizarre as this sounds, that felt like a win to me.  I felt like I've worked so hard to cleanse my body that I certainly don't want to muck it up again.  Not that fruit is the same as refined sugar, but I definitely want to tread lightly.  I've realized that I don't need it or even want it as much as I thought I did.

So, where do I go from here?  I will gradually re-add some fruit and Shakeology back into my diet.  I won't be resuming my regular baking and I'll continue to keep grains and dairy out of my diet (this is not exclusively because of the 21DSD, but a personal decision I was trying  to make for a few months).  I will move forward, no longer a slave to my sweets craving, but with a balanced and clearer perspective of my diet. 

In summary, I absolutely would recommend this program to anyone!  There are plenty of modifications to match any lifestyle (pregnant, athlete, etc.) and a tremendous knowledge of the effect of sugar on the body.  I would also gladly answer any questions about my process.  For the record, I have no association with the company, get no kickback and ultimately have no incentive for encouraging you to attempt it other that helping my friends take one more step towards being healthy. 

Throw Back Thursday

There's been a trend on Facebook lately, (and it's probably an Instagram thing, but I'm really not organized enough to maintain 2 social media sites) to post an old photo on Thursdays.  I've rather enjoyed seeing many of my friend's posts.  Childhood friends are especially enjoyable to see because largely, that's how I remember them--neck deep in the sandbox, not toting a toddler on each hip!

This morning I've seen several and I was thinking about some special time that I spent with my miniest me a few days ago.  You see, we have a small wedding album that sits on a low shelf in our living room.  She loves to flip through it, almost daily.  It was Tuesday afternoon, and I heard her in the living room, flipping through the album, narrating to her doll "Awilla" who everyone in the photos were.  Since these photos are just the snap shots taken by some family members, I asked her if she wanted to see some more pictures from our wedding, and I pulled out the professional ones.

As I flipped thorough each and every photograph, something beautiful happened--I remembered how it felt to love my husband like I did that day, and I started to cry.  Our relationship hasn't been ideal lately.  We've both made a lot of stupid mistakes.  Other people have been allowed to play a far to active role in a very personal scenario, and it's caused distance.  It has caused anger.  It has caused hurt and separation.  It has inhibited the ability to love each other.

Of course, over the years, life gets in the way of the "honeymoon" phase.  Kids demand way too much attention, jobs and finances take priorities and sometimes it becomes impossible to even be able to share a meal and enjoy the presence of each other without talking about the state of the bills, bank account or behavioral issues with the kids.  These kinds of things quickly steal the romance.

As I flipped through these photographs and through my mind echoed the sweet sentiment of a friend of the "sweet spirit" that was present on our wedding day, suddenly it all came back to me.  It had been so long since I'd really looked at my wedding photos.  Sure, there are some that hang on the walls, or are artfully displayed around my home, but I hadn't really looked at them for probably 2 years or more.  My heart finally felt an emotion that I'd been lacking for months.  A sensitivity toward my husband as I saw his longing, loving looks in the photos, the same looks he gives me now, despite how hateful I have become.  I felt that tenderness again.  I felt that love again.  I finally felt some hope again.

Something HAS to Change

It is with a very heavy heart that I sit down to type this morning.  I don't think that it will come as any surprise that situations in my personal life have become somewhat overwhelming in recent months, but that's not what I'm here to talk about.

Almost four and a half years ago, I stood in a hospital room next to the bed my mother was lying in, waiting on results from a mass that they found in her abdomen.  Just a few months prior, she was treated for a mass in her breast.  The doctors feared that the masses were incarcerated cysts.  Fortunately, this was not the case, nor were they cancerous.  They were each, in fact, an abscess caused by diabetes that was out of control.  My mother's blood sugar that day was 450.  The normal range is 70-120.  She was morbidly obese.  I stood in that hospital room, pregnant with her 2nd granddaughter, fearful that she would never see her grow up.  The doctors told her that she wouldn't live to see her granddaughters graduate high school, if something didn't change.

Just over a year later, I received one of the most painful phone calls I can recall.  My father had been hospitalized with internal bleeding.  After several tests to determine where the bleeding was coming from, they discovered a large tumor in his esophagus--it was cancer and he must begin aggressive chemotherapy and radiation immediately if there was any hope for survival.  The type of cancer that he had was directly related to his lifestyle choices with something like 80% of cases being overweight men who drank excessively.

Fortunately, both of my parents are still alive.  Each living comparably healthier lives than ever before.  The fear of not being present in the life of her grandchildren was enough to make my mother lose more than 130 lbs.  She went from being on some of the highest doses of insulin and over $100 (after insurance) prescription expense monthly, to completely diabetes free.  She is happier and very present in my daughters' lives.  My dad went through the chemo and radiation.  I stood by his bedside while he hallucinated because of the medications.  I sat by his side daily, running his feeding tube.  I watched my once strong and intimidating father become a frail old man.  Then I watched him slowly regain his strength.  I held my breath and prayed and waited by the phone while he went for his follow-up PET scan, and cried tears of relief when they declared him cancer free.  I celebrate the more cautious choices that he makes now, on what he consumes.  This story has a happy ending, but unfortunately, the one I must tell, does not.

Over the last few months I have watched the health of several people I know and care about rapidly decline, all because of issues that if addressed soon enough, could have been prevented.  Please know that the story I am about to tell is not intended to hurt anyone, it contains no judgement, just genuine heartfelt pain and concern.  About a month ago, my mom's cousin died, unexpectedly at age 66.  She was an amazingly beautiful woman.  I had many fond childhood memories of sitting in her living room, wrestling with her sons and eavesdropping on her conversations with my mom.  She had the most amazingly memorable voice.  It was kind of raspy with that distinctive Italian-American accent.  She had a heart bigger than anyone I've ever met.  No exceptions.  She always told it like it was, but no one ever got mad at her.  She was exactly what I hope someone remembers me as some day.  She also had diabetes, and weight issues that had gotten out of control.  This is ultimately what took her life.

Yesterday, my husband received a phone call that a childhood friend had passed away.  A young man of only 27.  His weight had gotten so unmanageable that he resorted to bariatric surgery.  Through many complications from several surgeries, he ultimately lost the battle.

I have another family member who daily struggles with the complications of diabetes that is out of control.  Unfortunately at this point, its all about managing pain and symptoms.  She has lost her vision almost completely, has neuropathy and must undergo painful dialysis because she has lost most of her kidney function.  I ache for her.  My heart breaks for the pain that she's going through.  My heart breaks for the pain of the loss for the friends and family of the young man.  My heart aches and breaks for my cousins and aunts and uncles, for myself and my family who lost such an amazing woman.  Most of all, my heart aches for our country, for the thousands of people who are facing these or similar health complications, which  if addressed soon enough can be avoided.

Within my immediate circle, two people died senselessly.  More than a dozen more are suffering unnecessarily.  I can't bear the thought or the pain of losing someone else because I didn't try to help.  The fact is that I am confident that I too would have been added to this list if it wasn't for a friend that offered me a life line.  I had spent every year of my life for the first 23 years overweight.  My weight was rapidly spiraling out of control.  It was my daughters, that were ultimately the catalyst for the change, but my friend Carrie who was my biggest cheerleader and who introduced me to Turbo Jam--for me, it was Beachbody.  Three and a half years and nearly a dozen programs and 130 lbs later and I have the confidence that it will never be my weight that will take my life.  Beachbody was what made sense for me and I decided to pay that forward, and sadly, I've fallen short.  I've not been the catalyst for change that I had hoped to be.  As I heard the news yesterday of another death and more complications, I knew that I could no longer be silent.

The fact is this, I love Beachbody and I fully believe and am committed to their mission.  I celebrate the work that they have done for me and several people that I care about, BUT more than anything, I love to see my friends and family HAPPY and HEALTHY.  I want to help you.  I don't want to see anyone I love and care about, or even know for that matter, suffer a senseless death or painful medical complications because of something that could be avoided.  I don't care if you buy P90X, I don' t care if you never take a single sip of Shakeology, but what I do care about is you caring for yourself.  PLEASE, let me help you.

Whatever support you might need, I will offer it.  Encouragement, recipes, workout recommendations, resources, etc.  You can find me on facebook, comment here or email me privately at michelleesander@gmail.com   PLEASE, DON'T WAIT UNTIL IT'S TOO LATE!

Like a Primal Battle Cry

There comes a point in time, I believe in all people's lives that they look at their life and say, "this is not AT ALL what I had planned."  Maybe it doesn't happen to everyone, but for the sake of not feeling completely ostracised, I am going to believe that it does. 

Things have been in flux.  For a long time, things in my life have been in flux.  It feels like I'm in the middle of a rushing river and just trying to ride the current, but jagged rocks block the path and so I'm repeatedly bashed into these rocks, snagged on branches and ultimately inhibited from the metamorphosis that seems so natural.  The irony, though, is that I don't know where this river goes, I don't know what the metamorphosis is, just that it must happen.  The feeling is that the pressure to be and do all of the right things and fulfill all of the right roles and maintain all of the right statues is so pervasive and yet something deep within me screams in opposition like a primal battle cry.

My throat burns.  It burns from swallowing the words that I would say, from swallowing the feelings and emotions that I shouldn't feel, or say.  My gut wretches, not knowing what to say or how to say it, but knowing that there is something that I must say.  Though I try to find comfort in the resolution that everyone has entertained this same scenario, I maintain a feeling of complete solitude. 

This is not AT ALL what I had planned....

Numb

I often struggle with the thought of what to post, what not to post, how much to reveal about the inner workings of my personal life to the intimate group of friends I call the internet.  I often get really uncomfortable and annoyed by those people who feel the need to reveal every intimate detail of their life on the interwebs and I certainly wouldn't want to be one of those people.  At the same time, there is a certain catharsis that comes from putting my thoughts into words.  Of course, thank goodness I do have some discretion, or I'd probably have FAR fewer friends.  Sometimes I think that the thoughts and ideas that I have are not unique, but shared by many (especially other SAHMs) but we just lack the courage to open our mouth and be honest. 

Recently, I've been engaged in an inner battle.  Things in our lives have been tumultuous, to say the least.  I won't bore you with the details, but it's been a REALLY hard few months, with more fog on the horizon.  After spending weeks strung out on nerves and way too much caffeine, I think I just sorta turned it all off.  I'm not sure when it happened exactly, or why, but a certain numbness has set in. 

Numbness is such a strange and fascinating phenomenon.  I'm highly familiar with it.  Three years ago, I lost feeling on my left side, and it's not returned.  Over the last 3 years I have experienced numbness that has come and go in various parts of my body.  When this first occurred, it was frustrating and troublesome, and confusing.  I felt like I was losing my mind all of the time.  We would laugh at my clumsiness as I would try to put my hand in my pocket, only to be halted by my wayward pinky sticking out because I couldn't feel that it hadn't made it into the pocket as well.  We had scary experiences, where I burned myself on the stove or the iron, because I didn't detect the heat on my left arm, or ran bathwater too hot for the girls, because I tested it with the wrong hand.  I say all of this to explain the feeling--or lack of feeling.  We've all had that moment when our foot has fallen asleep from sitting cross legged for too long, but this is different.  When an appendage falls asleep, it's numb, but almost with a heightened sense of feeling.  This is a complete lack of feeling.  Imagine, looking at your arm as if you're watching someone else perform the task that you know you're completing--present but completely absent in the situation in which you are a player. 

In recent weeks, this numbness has transcended the physical into the emotional.  Where the goal of thriving is far too removed and function is all you can muster.  It isn't like things have gotten exponentially more difficult in this time, or that any specific new developments have unfolded, it just sorta happened.  Yesterday, as I sat on the couch, feeling completely apathetic about life, and allowing Emily to watch way more television than typical, it dawned on me that I had merely become a player in my own life, but had begun to lack the initiative to be the director.  This is a terrifying realization.  I began to think over the last few weeks and some of the decisions that I've made, and I realized that so many of them were strictly an attempt to feel--anything.

Two weeks ago, we threw a birthday party for a friend.  She was turning 20 and at the party she asked, "What's the best advice you can offer me for my 20s?"  Little did she know how much I was wrestling with this thought for the last several weeks.  I immediately piped up and said, "Don't rush it!"  I never realized how much I had rushed my life until I was talking to a friend about a week prior.  My friend mentioned the challenges of working while going to school, and I thought about my senior year of college.  I was taking 18 hours at school, working 2 jobs, getting married, and pregnant, all at 21!  I did so much, perhaps I set a precedent for myself--an expectation of sorts.  Here, 6 years later, when marriage is comfortable, the decision has been made that we're done having children, I'm a stay at home mom, and life is on coast mode--I feel like I'm lacking something.  The urge is to be reckless, impulsive, make bad decisions--make ANY decisions, just to feel something, to have something to be excited about again.  While I know there's no hope for my arm, I can only desperately cling to the hope that something will ignite me mentally again.