The story of a young girl who is ‘different.’
My name is Elisha. I know, I know. Please don’t yell like my parents do. It’s a boy’s name and I shouldn’t have it. My parents hate it. But it was given to me by a special friend I’ll tell you about later. It’s hard to talk about him and I’m having a difficult time with my parents and the villagers because of him. By the way, I live in Ancient Israel in a village with no name near Shechem in the Land of Caanan.
I’ve got to go. I’ll tell you more next time but my mother, my Ima is yelling for me to sweep the floor.
Bye for now. We’ll talk more when my parents are busy working.
I am not the person I was up until now. I seem to change constantly. Do you?
My childhood was difficult. I felt like I was born into the wrong family. I survived it, but not well.
I am a mixture of college girl, getting a Ph.D. forty something years later, was the mother of three, then the divorced mother of three at a time when divorce was a dirty word.
If I was forced to describe myself I would say: I am angular, twinkling, growing, sunny, dark, flowing, straight out, solid, and sensitive all according to the day and the hour of that day.
I am a mother, grandmother, great grandmother of a five month old boy, psychologist (the Ph.D), singer, actor and director. I am all these things and more. But right now my main job is taking care of myself.
At the moment I am plumbing the depths of me to uncover long forgotten secrets. I know the answers are there in my memory bank, somewhere, elusive, hiding, afraid to show themselves. I survived it all so why is it so difficult to open it up, to bring it to the light.
Which part is needed at this very moment? The angular with its sharp points digging in? The sunny growing and twinkling to avert falling into a fit of depression? The flowing part that allows me to be creative?
I never know which will show itself. Which will take over and dictate my day. And I – have to deal with the one that appears and allows all the different emotions to present themselves.
Who will show up tomorrow?
My Granddaughter’s Vegetarian Chili 2-4 Servings (depending on how hungry you are.
I was not a fan of Chili. She made it for me and is now my Favorite!
15.6 oz. Red Kidney Beans drained
4 cups rice (yellow rice preferred).
8 oz Salsa (medium is best, but mild works well).
8 oz Heinz Chili Sauce
2 oz Cheddar Cheese shredded
Cook Kidney beans
Combine on stove with chili sauce, salsa, and seasoning. Pour into 8×8 pan and broil for 5 minutes.
Top with cheese, put back in oven and broil for five minutes or until cheese is fully melted.
Remove from oven and let it sit for 2 minutes. Stir in the melted cheese.
Let it cool so that it’s hot but not burning your tongue.
Black Bean Brownies Serves 9-12
1 can 15 ounce black beans, drained
1/2 cup cacao powder
4 tablespoons coconut oil, melted
3/4 cup raw honey
2 teaspoons Stevia
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup gluten-free flour
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 cup water
Blend all ingredients together
Grease 8×8 pan with coconut oil
Bake for 49 minutes at 350 degrees
Allow to cool for 10-15 minutes and Enjoy
Trying to get healthy was not as much a process as a finding my way, and it wasn’t easy. There was a lot of trial and error. I got a bunch of books from the library. Since this was quite a while ago the what to eat page would not be what you would find today, but they gave me ideas.
I must admit I was not a complete beginner. I studied at a place where they discussed good eating. Back then, I decided to go vegetarian and cut back on starchy foods. I allowed myself three or four tablespoons of brown rice or pasta at lunch and dinner and was doing all right.
One morning I woke up with my body screaming for a hamburger. After much thought I decided to give in and went to a local restaurant with a great reputation. I was glad I did. Obviously my body needed something from that burger and it never happened again. I went from a size 12-14 to a size eight. That lasted one year.
I moved to Florida and it started all over again. I knew what to do but the anxiety of being there alone ( I had family but they were busy and there were no friends) and going into a brand new job made me feel deserted. Everything I did before went down the toilet and my weight increased and increased until it was close to one hundred eighty. I had to do something.
There is a picture of me at one of my mother’s parties and I when I saw it, I couldn’t believe how heavy I was. How much fat made the dress so tight that it creased all over and I almost couldn’t breathe. I went back to my original plan. This time I changed only one thing a month and started losing weight. Seeing the scale move down gave me the lift I needed to keep going.
I learned that I had to eat lots of vegetables to satisfy my hunger. That every time I had too much pizza or bread or pasta I gained back a few pounds. I lost ten pounds a year until I was down to one hundred forty. At a much slower rate I lost more and am now a happy one hundred twenty-five pounds. It feels like this is where I should have been all my life.
Happy because I feel like I’m in the right body. Have energy. Feel well. It’s not the number on the scale but the knowledge that both my body and I feel like we belong where we are. If you are having problems with food let me know. Eating Disorders was my specialty.
From the time I was young I loved sweets. It continued until I was in my fifties. I had bulimia and didn’t know it. If you don’t know what that is, it’s the process of overeating and then getting rid of the food. There are a number of ways to do that. Some go on the treadmill or run for hours and hour, usually at home so no one will see. Others use laxatives. That was my choice.
On top of that I had hypoglycemia and didn’t know it. That is the opposite of diabetes – low blood sugar. Much easier to handle than diabetes but you still have to work at eating the right foods. The nurse where I worked did a five hour glucose tolerance test. She gave me a something to drink and I laid on the table while they took blood every five hours. It was excruciating. It came from eating sweets.
The problem started after my brother was born and I had to baby-sit him. I baked and ate almost a whole cake every time my parents left for whatever they were doing that evening. My mother couldn’t understand why I was gaining weight and I wasn’t going to tell her. I lost weight before I went to college but was up twenty pounds and down twenty pounds for years.
I’m jumping a large number of years to when I moved to Florida and things began to change. Not right at the beginning but soon after, though I did become a vegetarian the day I set my foot on Florida soil.
I found out I was allergic to certain foods. I pared down what I ate, but how far can you go? I had to have something to eat and began to feel deprived. My menu depended on bread, pasta, pizza – you’ve got the picture. My weight soared to close to one hundred and eighty pounds.
I had to change my lifestyle. I’ll try to tell you the process for recovery I used in my next post. Try because it’s not easy to go through or talk about and took a long time.
A lot of people have food issues. Do you? Let me know, maybe I can help.
I went through some ancient papers and came across this. Check out the emotion behind it not the writing.
What is the worth of a woman
how many horses or cows
Sell her to improve the family status
After all she is only a woman
What is the worth of a woman
If she is not there who will they rape
Who will they pillage and plunder
Who will they turn into whores?
Please tell me your reaction, this was my first real writing. Thanks
I woke up this morning knowing I wanted to write a post and having no idea of what to say. I seemed tapped out – at least for the moment. Then I remembered my father saying, “you babble on and on,” when I was little and my mother said, “you opened your mouth and haven’t shut up since.”
There are many times I am sure there were times when someone said something derogatory or hurtful, or told me what or how I should do or act and were just plain wrong. How much of my inability to speak up comes from what I heard as a child – the message being Shut Up – what you have to say is not important, you are not important.
I certainly spoke up when I got to school and was punished for it. I was sent to the principal’s office. My mother had to come to school and she was not happy. When I got older I didn’t know why, but my voice disappeared. Words crossed my mind. Words I knew were right for that moment, but they were words I could not say, thought I knew the answer. I no longer raised my hand when the teacher asked for feedback or information. It was like something in me was turned off. I was afraid.
Would I appear stupid? My parents said I was when I was little so I believed it. Would my answer be ridiculous? Or would I get tongue tied and seem like a fool? I even practiced what to say in my head and still couldn’t do it. Even if I was determined to speak I would wait too long and someone else would answer before I could get up enough courage. Or worst of all, would I be ignored, a living ghost that is there and afraid to say anything?
When I was studying for my PhD I read many articles about this problem. Experiments were done that proved teachers called on males most often. Females were ignored leaving them feeling inadequate. Thankfully that has changed, at least that’s what I’m told.
There are other reasons people don’t speak up. Perhaps it’s thinking there is nothing else to be said on that topic. However, most people will finally admit it is fear. If it is business it can be fear of being fired. If we can be honest that is not the truth. It is fear of saying the wrong thing and getting punished in some way, even ostracized. Some believe that those who are in a ‘higher’ social position know better than you. Therefore it might be dangerous to speak against them. They went to a better school so they have to be smarter. A study was done that when analyzed showed that some people “become dumb” when in a group with those they think are smarter than they are. How can anyone put a relationship in jeopardy when it might mean losing the person or the job.
I remember being in kindergarten and first grade and hating it because we had to sit still and listen. The teacher spoke and we had to be good and wait to be called on. Between my parents and school I gave up. I was too little to fight them and didn’t want to go to the principal’s office again because my mother would be mad at me.
I got married and couldn’t speak up. I watched my parents closely as children do. In those days men were the ones who worked and brought home the money. Women stayed home and obeyed. Certainly that was more prevalent in my parent’s relationship but I had lived with it and it seeped into my being. I was petrified when I asked my husband if I could try out for a scholarship. I would never do that today, but I had learned well.
Our fears are based on the fear of rejection, of losing those we love or need. Studies have been done that show that the brain shows rejection in the same place as physical pain and rejection is the most feared thing that can happen to a human.
Not everyone is fearful. I think back to the boys who answered in school and others who spoke out. More people speak up now, especially women, who didn’t so many years ago.
As a singer I know how important voice is. Every turn of phrase, every nuance is heard and digested. A softer tone says something different from a loud one. Like here on these pages where we do not capitalize every letter because it means shouting. Your voice shows joy, passion, beliefs, opinions and more. It says who we are. Be as happy as this young girl.