From mourning to morning

I have been going through some really heavy emotional stuff over the last few weeks while taking part in this F.I.T.S. 90-day Challenge. My DH and I had a big talk the other night. I was discussing my own frustration with myself about not being able to do everything "perfectly" as I want to. He said it gets annoying living with someone who's "always" down on herself. I can see and respect what he's saying, although I did have to remind him that I'm not "always" down on myself: I was really proud of myself for doing the yoga competition earlier in the month, and I'm proud of myself that my fitness level really has jumped tremendously over the past few months. I'm proud of the fact that I've lowered my medication twice. And my yoga practice is stronger now than it was when I did the competition just a few weeks ago.

But it's the diet that I struggle with so much, the finality of it, what I've always been looking for. And the more I think about it and look at it from every angle, the more I'm starting to recognize that I can't turn back, that I absolutely have to do this, and that I absolutely will do this 100% of the time, and that time can't be further than just around the corner; because when I'm not doing it 100% of the time I can TELL that I'm killing myself slowly. Anyone who is not a raw foodie who's reading this (yes, there are a few!) will probably think that's a crazy thing to say. But when you feel yourself going perpetually forward, health-wise, when eating simple raw food, and then you feel it immediately and tangibly go backwards when you don't, there just ain't no mistaking it.

So I'm in mourning, really, because I'm realizing that I have to forgo my entire culture, and that's a tough thing to do. People just don't get it, so I'll probably inadvertently have to be more distant with some people. Which isn't necessarily what I want, but if you're on two different paths, and one path tends to derail the other, what do you do?

Also, there's my love of world cultures. Food is such a huge part of all cultures, and to no longer be able to participate in this way literally makes me want to cry. I did cry the other night to Gary. The fact that it's practically an impossible thing to do, but that I KNOW that I must do it, it's almost indescribable.

And then there's also the fear that no one else is doing this around me. For my life to change so dramatically is a frightening thing. Of course I want to get better, but if you transform your life it transforms your relationships too. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, but it's scary.

But then there's that quote, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added unto you," and I believe that, and I think that's what we're doing here. I am seeing that I have to relinquish the power of the senses, because they have me in an absolute stranglehold. I don't want that habit anymore. But breaking free of it is like being thrown into a pit of fire. It's agony ... the toughest battle I've ever fought in my life. And I think for most people you don't realize how hooked you are until you try to stop.

But I'm part way up on the side of a mountain. To one side it drops out underneath me into an unspeakable abyss, and to the other side is ascends arduously and painstakingly into the heavens. Which path to take? Up or down? I don't really have a choice, now, do I?

But hopefully if I take the path to the heavens, somewhere up there the mourning will change to morning, and I'll be free.