Reaching Acceptance & Letting Go

It was three-thirty in the morning when it happened. That same clawing hunger that I thought I’d tempered came back with a vengeance. And it doesn’t just come at three-thirty; sometimes it happens at two. Has it been weeks since I’ve slept over six hours at one time, or months? Regardless, I haven’t slept a full night for quite some time, simply because the hunger pains are relentless. It’s like all I do throughout the morning is eat, and then after dinner before bed I eat. I eat and I snack and I graze. I feel like a black hole that’s always empty, or a pot that never fills, even when you’re making rice for the whole family. 

It's never enough.

I eat and I eat and I’m frustrated. Actually, I’m not as frustrated as I was on Monday (or on Wednesday, when I started writing this post), but still I’m frustrated.

A couple of weeks ago I received a letter from my doctor regarding the bone density scan I had done in February. The results weren’t alarming, but they weren’t rays of sunshine either: my bone density was below average.

I remember watching the machine scan my hip, and how humbling it was to see my bones on the computer screen. It occurred to me how little I thought of what was under the skin, the muscles, the veins, and the blood. Beneath all that I never considered how real my bones were, how instead of being the body of a small universe there were these white masts I used as foundation. It was so grounding a thought that when I received that letter, I felt unreal, deflated, like I could feel the very things that were my foundation giving in to the weight of what it held together.

I was no longer immortal, and I was suddenly aware of my humanity.

The results could have been worse. They could have shown that I had the bones of a one-thousand-year-old mummy with no way of fixing it. Instead, it just merely pointed out that my bone density was below average, and the good news was that there was treatment. (The Doctor had mentioned that too much Armour Thyroid could cause bone loss; however, I think my low bone density was the consequence of years of disordered eating.) So with that in the back of my mind, with some of my early hypothyroid symptoms returning and being Hungry with a capital “H”, you can see how it can leave a girl frustrated.

The hardest part for me is not knowing why I am so hungry, and whether is has to do with: my thyroid condition or some other health factor I haven’t considered (hypoglycemia, mineral/vitamin deficiency, etc.); my fitness regimen of exercising six days a week; or, even with additional meals and snacking, I’m still not eating enough.

And there is the matter of considering that it’s all three.

I usually get emotional when I talk about having a hypothyroid condition. I feel really vulnerable when I do, and that is probably why I don’t write about it very often on Meals With Morri (I’ve talked about the treatment, but rarely the condition itself and how it affects me). I am not the condition, and I don’t view it as part of my identity as a person. There are days, however, when I can’t explain this overwhelming fatigue or when I’m suddenly intolerant of the heat or the cold. I get embarrassed of my cold hands and the yellowish hue when both symptoms flare up. I get discouraged because of the added complications that make it harder to keep weight off or lose weight in general. The biggest fear I’ve had as of late is if I eat more, despite my very active lifestyle, I’ll become the next incarnation of Budai (without the jolliness). 

(source)

So this week I’ve been experimenting by writing out what I’ve been eating, taking my pulse before I go to bed and after I wake up, and working on balancing my active lifestyle with my calorie intake. I’m still waking up early, and I weigh no more than I did when I was weighed before my bone density was scanned. But if getting my bones in tiptop shape means weighing more, or if eating enough to sleep a full night in peace means I am destined to weigh (on average) 125 pounds, I accept those terms.

To be honest, fighting your body for what you believe to be best is hard work, especially when there is more than one way to being right. I could fight (and have been fighting) against my health’s shortcomings or I could work with them and accommodate those needs accordingly.

I’m done being my worst enemy, and I’m finally ready to be my best friend. I’m ready to work with my whole self to finding what works and what doesn’t work for me. Sure, I may get frustrated and I may have days when my symptoms flare up. And yes, there will be days I think it’s unfair that I can’t wear a size 4 dress. But having the health that I have has taught me the importance of pacing myself, being honest, going with the flow, and to never give up trying. It shows how marvelous life truly is in all of its twists and turns and complexities.

I may have gotten up earlier than I wanted to today with a sniffle and a sneeze, and I may have “a rumbly in my tumbly” like a certain Silly Old (Taoist) Bear, but I smile and I enjoy the beautiful spring day as it is.

And really, that’s all we can ever ask for.

Simply Green Brown Rice

360 g Sprouted brown rice
500 ml Water (or more if you want a creamier consistency)
15 ml Unrefined apple cider vinegar
3 tsp. Minced dried onion
1 tsp. Sea salt
1/2 tsp. Herb de Provence
1/4 tsp. Whole cumin seeds
1/4 tsp. Cracked pepper
1/4 tsp. Dried tarragon
1 bunch (126 g) Curly leaf parsley
Juice of 1 Lemon
30 ml Olive oil

1 Lemon, cut into wedges and served as garnish

Combine the rice, water, vinegar, and spices into a pressure/rice cooker or medium saucepan and cook until the rice has softened and taken a creamy consistency (time will vary based on how you usually prepare brown rice and how much water you put in).
Place the parsley, lemon juice, and olive oil in a food processor and pulse until the ingredients form a pesto-like quality.
Fold in the parsley mixture with the rice, and then serve warm with the lemon wedges on top.

Makes 8 servings.

November Reflections: Grain-Free and almost Stress-Free

I had so many blog posts I wanted to do, explicitly focused on my birthday, my talk with Cheryl, my grain-free week, and a few recipes as well. But life had different plans for me, and for the first time I am totally okay with it.

Ostkaka: my birthday "cake"

My birthday week was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that it went by in a blur of rain, school, and work. Both my Anthropology teachers canceled their classes on my birthday (divine intervention, perhaps) to attend conferences in Montreal and New Orleans, so I spent my day doing absolutely nothing. And as I mentioned before, I’ve been trying out the grain-free, one fruit a day (not including the lemon water I use for drinking down FiveLac), and no additional sweeteners, I didn’t have a cake specially made for the occasion. I did, however, have a piece of ostkaka I made on the 14th to celebrate Sweden’s “Day of Ostkaka,” a food holiday established in 2004. Oddly enough, it was the same “cake” I had in Sweden for my birthday last year.

I miss those times. I really, really do. My last semester of school had left me a stressed, anti-social mess, with a sore throat and a dry cough that finally went away after two (plus) weeks. I would have loved to go out on my birthday with the people I’ve been neglecting, but I was just so tired that all I wanted to do is sleep. I thought it was the whole grain-free thing, but really I was underestimating just how compromised my immune system was with the getting glutened-flu double whammy hullabaloo.

For a while I was still getting headaches, though the FiveLac keeps me from being hungry an hour after eating a full meal. I can wait until after six to eat dinner instead of having to eat right at five. My digestion is doing awesomely, and I think my hormone imbalance is leveling itself. I thought I had to increase my Armour Thyroid to 90-30-90 due to the emergence of previous symptoms (i.e., lower body temperature, cold hands and feet, yellowish palms and fingertips), but after acknowledging the headaches being stress related (and also for thinking too much) they’ve miraculously gone away.

Grain-Free "Granola" Bowl

As far as drastically changing my diet for the long term, Cheryl recommends I get tested for Candida until I officially go down the ACD or SCD route. For now I like being grain-free, white carb-free, and eating one fruit serving a day (most days). I’m noticing that I’m not as hungry, I’m fuller longer, and for the first time this Sunday I was actually hungry.

Interesting, isn’t it? Instead of eating when I was hungry I was eating because I was programmed to eat at a specific time. There is a difference to a hungry stomach and a stomach experiencing discomfort. For as long as I’ve been blogging, I ate to feed the headaches and I ate after eating to feed the “hunger” pains. After this weekend, filled with a family meditation seminar, the headaches went away and I slept. I mean, I actually slept in a way I thought was lost to me. Before the meditation I thought I had been too grounded to let go of all the stress. I am feeling more in my body than I have for two years. My hands are finally warm, and school (and graduation) isn’t so scary anymore.

With two weeks of school left after Thanksgiving weekend, I am definitely looking into doing Kundalini yoga again. Being grounded is at the heart of being healthy. And if I’m going to change the world and nourish the people in it, I have to live by example and nourish myself. Since I've returned to running and working with the munchkins at the community center, I need to be eating more than I have been if I don't want any more zombie nightmares. It's day four of warm hands, so I must be doing something right.

Becoming a Gluten Free Athlete with Socca Tuna Melt

Motivation comes in many forms. Some use the “I’m doing this so I don’t have to do it for the rest of my life” approach. Others use the “I’m doing this to make other people happy” approach. But I prefer the “I’m doing this for me” approach. I’m writing this blog for me, and hopefully to help others along the way.

I lost substantial weight my first semester in college. It was to prove to myself (and my ex-boyfriend at the time) that I was worth something, to feel better about myself, and to take my mind off the many changes coming my way. I went from weighing 140 lbs to about 118 lbs in a matter of a semester, a size 8 in pants to almost a size 0, and still I wasn’t happy. I think this is where my obsession with exercising and “healthy” eating truly began, and it’s taken the better part of four years of healing and patience and support to get where I am today.

My disordered eating wasn’t about food. It was about control. What I did or didn’t put into my mouth or how long and how often I exercised were the ways to make me feel like I ran my life. Change was always around the corner, but my body was for me to control and no one else could take that away from me. That was my logic, but really, what good came from it? If I felt it wasn’t okay for anyone else to go to bed hungry because they had no other choice, how was it okay for me to go to bed hungry when there was always a well-stocked kitchen downstairs? What was the point of eating healthy and working out every other day when it was never enough? Not only that, but when you limit your caloric intake and exercise, it’s not only illogical… it’s freaking dangerous.

I’m telling you this because of what happened this morning. IB and I went on a slow run this morning, less than half an hour and under two miles. When we finally came back, my face was a deep red; I was nauseous and had tunnel vision even after gulping down water. We decided it was best if I lay down, though after a few moments I started to shake convulsively. It went away, but he was still concerned. He’d been a runner for years and never experienced this before, so he started researching.

I’ve been working with Cheryl Harris for nutrition guidance and life enrichment since February this year. I can look back and happily say there is progress. I’m eating between 1500 and <1800 calories a day instead of having a panic attack if I eat more than 1200 (and yes, this included the days I exercised). I’m giving my body what it wants immediately when it asks for it. There are days when I’m still hungry after I’ve eaten dinner, typically when I have a late class and pack food for myself, and I no longer grudgingly feed myself until I’m no longer hungry.

I learned a new mantra, one that I can tell myself should insecurity rear its ugly head. “Food is the fuel that keeps me going, and not the anchor that weighs me down.” How's that for deep?

I'm NOT holding myself down anymore.

Maybe I felt that, since I wasn’t what I pictured to be an “Athlete,” I could eat normally and still work out like a gladiator. That is, one hour of aerobic exercise, about half an hour of weights and other gym machines, and I’m not even counting all the walking I do on campus. If I want to go to the gym three to five times a week, I need to make sure my body has the fuel to do it. That means sleeping a full eight hours a night, drinking water, getting the right vitamins, and yes, eating. Perhaps a year ago if the Burt-man asked me “Do you want to be strong and solid (implying the possibility of weight gain) or a ninety-eight-pound weakling?”, I would have had to think about it. If I was honest with myself, I would have likely preferred the latter because I felt I’d rather be thin (implying beauty) than muscled and "stocky". But I know better now.

Beauty is found in a happy self, a body that gets what it needs and never wants. I still have a long way to go, but I’m not the person I was four years ago trying to be something that others would like. The next time I speak to Cheryl, I will focus on the Gluten Free Athlete perspective, and what measures I need to take in order to embody this persona safely, effectively, and happily. Michelle and Lori of Pure2Raw seem to have this concept down to a science.

Oh! And I’ve discovered a new blog, The Gluten Free Athlete. Something tells me I’m going to be visiting it often. But for now, I have a socca recipe for you, one that I gobbled up gleefully post-run. High in healthy fats and carbohydrates, my body felt like new.

Socca Tuna Melt

1 Socca Recipe
1 slice Gouda cheese, quartered
1/4 c. Canned tuna in olive oil, drained of excess oil
1 heaping tbsp. Fresh salsa 
1/2 tsp. Dijon mustard

Prepare and cook the socca (like so) and place it under the broiler.
Thoroughly blend together the tuna, fresh salsa, and mustard.
Remove the socca from the oven, flip over, and lay out the cheese on one side.
Top the cheese with the tuna mixture and fold the other side on top (like you would an omelet).
Place it under the broiler once more until the cheese is melted.

Cut it in half and serve with sour cream, a small salad, and carrot juice.

Serves 1.

Bacon & Gouda Stuffed Chicken Breast

Before I give you the easiest stuffed chicken recipe you will ever make, I want to talk to you about my dream last night. If you don’t already know this about me, I have a prodigious fear of zombies (Though, surprisingly, I dug Zombieland). It isn’t quite so much a phobia that gives me panic attacks and fainting spells, but I do have vivid nightmares about them. Not only are they extremely terrifying, they are also reoccurring.

It all started my first year in college, around the time school was letting out for the winter holidays. I went and saw my first ever zombie movie at the AMC Tysons Corner 16. It was Resident Evil 3, and it was only the beginning. At first the zombies looked like your typical human being in my dreams. The post-apocalyptic landscape was industrial and familiar, only without cars and them walking down the highway, staring straight ahead with vacant eyes. Whenever I walked near one they seemed to come out of their trance and would tell me to get away or they’d bite me. They knew what they were, and although they looked like any average Joe or Jane I’d meet on the street, I knew what they were also.

After three years, they’ve progressed and evolved into different images. Sometimes they were rotting and bloody, and I would usually have something to defend myself with. Sometimes they looked demonic and beautiful; they were sentient, articulate, and even more horrible to deal with. It’s the conscious, unearthly looking ones that terrify me the most, and they’re the ones that are often the zombie part of the zombie nightmare experience.

(c) Link

For a while I thought they symbolized my need for control of my own life and destiny, or not wanting to become part of the crowd that followed everything I was against. This morning's took on a new feel to it that was different from the others. I was uprooted from my home, because they could easily go in and out of buildings as they pleased. There was a secret government agency involved, where technology was exceedingly developed and they were about as helpful as a griddle skillet for a soup recipe. I spoke with them and I ran from them in this vast hotel with many halls, windows, and rooms. I was alone against the world, and I woke up with my heart thudding so hard against my chest and tears in my eyes. It took a few minutes until the pounding in my ears subsides. At least it was light enough I could see my room clearly with the morning light, and since my stomach was telling me it wanted pancakes with its grumbles I figured it was time to get up anyway.

As I was preparing and eating my first delicious creation of the day, I started thinking about my latest nightmare, and I was struck with such an enlightening realization that there was actually a very logical explanation to these dreams.

I was hungry.

The dreams started when I began exercising and losing weight, and they became more graphic the more restrictive I became with my lifestyle. I think it was my subconscious telling me that it was wrong for me to go to bed hungry, that these awful nightmares were a way of encouraging me to give what my body wants and to nourish its most basic need. Zombies are particular and picky; only the freshest human will do. Although it is very clear I’m eating more throughout the day (and not gaining weight, despite my constant fear of doing so), it still isn’t enough to satisfy my body completely, whether it’s feeling contentedly full at that moment or not.

And I think it does have to do with self-control, if only a little. I think I was (or still am) afraid of giving in to what I wanted and needed, and that my body had more control over me than I believed it should. But really, what is the distinction? The Body isn’t a separate entity from the the Mind and Spirit, and I shouldn’t be treating it like it is. It should be nourished, loved, and respected just as much as the other two without criticism, exceptions, or regulations. The amazing thing about the physical body is that it knows what’s what before anything else that is a part of you. Everything else beyond the five senses can be physically manifested because even your own mind knows that before You do. Fascinatingly confusing stuff, am I right? Hopefully my future dreaming endeavors, whether they are zombie-filled or not, will be brighter, gentler, and kinder from now on.

Until then, here is a recipe anyone can do and do it well. Stuffed chicken breast is such a versatile dish in how it’s prepared, what it’s stuffed with, and how the overall dish will end up looking on a plate. I like to stuff it with various cheeses and greens, and serve it over a bed of rice with another vegetable as a side. But you can stuff it with apples or other fruits also. You can bread it, glaze it, marinade it, and possibly fry it. You can top it with a sauce or crust it with herbs. This is such a great dish for those who want a nutritionally balanced meal without compromising flavor... and their wallet.

Bacon & Gouda Stuffed Chicken Breasts

4 Chicken breasts, butterfly-cut and pounded out
9.5 oz Pork belly pieces (or bacon), thinly sliced
4 oz Smoked Gouda (or 4 deli slices), thinly sliced and halved into crescents
4 Garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
1 tsp. Herb de Provence
Olive oil, for greasing the pan

Preheat the oven to 350ºF.
Place the large skillet over medium heat, add the olive oil and cook the pork belly until it is crispy with a satisfying crunch.
Remove the pork belly pieces from the pan and allow cooling until they can be safely handled.
Add the cheese and bacon to one side of the butterfly-cut chicken breasts and sandwich the stuffing with the other side.
Lay the chicken breasts next to each other on the pan and evenly garnish with the garlic, remaining bacon pieces, and Herb de Provence.
Back for 45 minutes and serve hot.

Serves 4.

The Bento Box Snapshot: The Leftovers Stuffed Bell Pepper

You remember when I said I think I finally got the hang of Bento?

Yeah, about that...

Although I believe I am getting better at the nutritional balance aspect for every meal, it still remained on the lighter side. Maybe it had to do with it being the last official week of classes. Maybe I was particularly tired that day. But come 7:10 p.m. Tuesday evening, when my class let out, I was still hungry.

But that’s okay. I didn’t mind eating a bit more. The Old Me would’ve had a slight panic attack at the very idea of eating something after dinner if I dared to still be hungry. The Old Me would’ve counted calories and thought of ways to limit my intake the next day. Granted, I did go to the gym afterward, but that was due to my restless disposition instead of burning off the additional consumed foodage (okay, mostly).

This is a snapshot of what I’ll be having for lunch in a few hours. And I think this one will actually keep me full until dinner with the folks. I wasn’t even thinking about Cinco de Mayo (to me, it's just another day), but the end result turned out being very appropriate and festive. Plus, I got to clean out the fridge.

For today’s lunch:

Stuffed red bell pepper (cut horizontally) with: a halved slice of Fontina cheese layering the bottom, two BBQ patties mashed and mixed with 1/2 cup refried beans and a ring of finely diced red onion in the middle, and two rings of red onion on top. The red bell pepper was first softened using a boil/steam method on the stovetop. When all the ingredients were put together, I put them in a preheated oven at 350ºF for ten minutes.  Then, simply because the oven has a broil option, I broiled them on “high” for another 5 – 10 minutes.

The salad is a looser version of guacamole. It has 1/2 Kirby cucumber, 1 – 2 tbsp. finely diced red onion, 5 small heirloom tomatoes quartered, 1/2 lime, 1/4 avocado, and 1 tbsp. of Trader Joe’s Garlic Chipotle salsa.

I am also starting a new dosage of Armour Thyroid today. It is moving up to 60-60 a day; what that means, I'll let you know later.

The Pancake Post

It was a dark and stormy night… Okay, okay, not really. It was a dark and early morning, a 4:30 a.m. Monday April 4th morning, actually. I was awake, and having only been asleep for five hours or so, I really didn’t want to be. Why? Well, my first and only class of the day, intermediate Tai Chi, wasn’t until 3:00 p.m. and my stomach was moaning “foooodddd…. FOOOOODDD…”

Shut up, stomach.

“FFOOOOODDDDD…”

Come on, just a few more hours.

“FEEEEEDDDDD MMMMEEEEEEEE…”

Please, can't you -

“JUST WHAT PART OF ‘FFOOOODDDD’ AND ‘FEEEEEDDDD MMMMEEEEEEE’ ARE YOU NOT GETTING, WOMAN?!”

Sigh.

If it had been another time, another me, I would have ignored it, and would wait to fall asleep again. Mind you, I tried, but thirty minutes passed by in the darkness of my dorm room until I couldn’t take it anymore. So there I was, my hunger a vicious furry monster of a thing by 5:50 a.m., a mug of Joe and the light of my computer screen illuminating the living room next to the kitchen, trying to decide on what to make myself for breakfast. I briefly considered turning a slice of my latest quick bread recipe into French toast, but I just wasn’t feeling it.

I was craving something made on the spot, something made on the stove, something I made twice a month at most. So to you, fellow bloggers and readers, I present to you the first of many recipes for this blog.

Pancakes.

Morri’s perfect pancakes, to be precise. And let me tell you, it was love at first bite. These were the first pancakes I’ve made gluten free that had the perfect flour combination, the perfect texture, the perfect taste that, I kid you not, my eyes grew wide, my fork dropped from my hand, and I spent three minutes looking for a pen just to write down what I put into them before I forgot.

I may forget where I park my car on campus on a daily basis, but I was not about to forget this recipe.

Although I’ve been gluten free for nearly four years, it reminds me of pancakes of olde, of pancakes BGF (before gluten free). And the best part? It isn’t merely something starchy to fill your grumbling tummies, or what I call “fillers”.

It’s nutritious, it’s delicious, it’s gluten free, all three of which should always be synonymous with one another. That is the “Meals with Morri” motto, and for your health as well as mine, I welcome you to my blog and her maiden voyage.

To make sure these pancakes weren’t merely a delicious one-time working phenomenon of a recipe, I made them this morning for two reasons. One, to make sure it worked a second time just as scrumptiously as the first. And two, to take photos with my (almost) new Nikon D50 SLR I received in the mail on Thursday to show just how mouth-watering they actually are.

For this post and posts in the future, most if not all the baking will be entirely done by weight. Shauna and Danny from Gluten Free Girl and the Chef first turned the gluten free community on to the idea how significantly different it is to bake using a scale. Baking, like other sciences, is a precise and fickle art form. You can’t simply substitute a cup of all-purpose flour for a cup of gluten free flour. I mean, you can, but the results you get may not be the results you were hoping for. But that’s okay; in fact, it’s more than okay. When baking by weight, you can create a plethora of recipes with the same ratio of ingredients and never get the same thing twice. And if you want a repeat performance, all you have to do is write it down until it is needed center stage.

This stack o’ pancakes not only deserves a repeat performance, but a standing ovation, a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and someone to eat them with.

Morri’s Perfect Pancakes


1 oz Amaranth flour
1 oz Millet flour
1 oz Buckwheat flour
1 oz Arrowroot starch
1 oz Butter (melted)
5 oz Milk
1 Egg
1 tsp. Baking soda
Dash of salt (to taste)
Oil (or butter) for the pan

Combine the wet ingredients in a bowl and whisk until they are thoroughly combined.

Combine the dry ingredients.

Mix the wet and dry ingredients and stir until the batter is smooth.

Cook on a lightly oiled surface, griddle or pan (whatever you use for pancakes), over a medium heat until done.

Add whichever condiments catch your fancy. I’m particular with jams, personally, but I wanted to liven up my palate with something different (hence the sliced 1/2 ripe banana, almond slivers, and a drizzle of maple syrup combination).

Makes 8 – 10 pancakes*. Serves 2.

Note*: I used a 1/4 c. measuring cup to keep my pancake sizes manageable and consistent.