profoundly am I grateful for the work of Charlotte Gerson, Robert Lustig, Eric
Berg and Gerald Green. Working with their insights has brought me to one
lightbulb moment after another.
real turnaround for me came in connecting up diet, weight and the endocrine
had started to get desperate about weight gain. Like so many other people I’d
go on a slimming diet, lose weight – but put it all back on and then some. It
got harder and harder to lose, and my weight was gradually increasing. I didn’t
feel like dancing, exercising, or even getting out of bed. Everything felt so
tiring, the company of other people absolutely drained me; I was chronically
exhausted. I'd felt well in the spring when I followed Charlotte Gerson's system, and the weight started to come off then, too. But I found it too difficult to keep up properly. And social eating is based on sugar, wheat and dairy (in England anyway); gradually I gave up, and started to feel ill again, and the weight started to creep back - clothes feeling tight.
I concluded ~ no, I really, really do have to permanently give up sugar. So I did. No sugar, no wheat, no dairy,
no yeast. Only exception there – I still have a little milk in tea when I’m a
guest in someone else’s home. And, as before, I’ve seen my health transformed.
I still drink some home-made juice every morning, following Charlotte Gerson’s advice that juice made from organic fruit and vegetables is good for you. I
take the pulp from it and mix it in with my oatmeal while it’s cooking, so I
don’t lose the fibre. And I still, regularly, do the Gerson coffee enemas to
detox my liver – and they are better than anti-depressants by a million miles
for re-establishing peace and equilibrium. I know it’s embarrassing to mention
enemas on the internet, but really they revolutionise mood: toxins and
depression are bosom buddies. I eat fish and I eat meat that's been compassionately farmed and raised on proper pasture (not just rye grass), or wild. In principle I could eat eggs but I find them a bit yucky.
main thing is, I feel so, so well. This evening it occurred to me, that this is
the origin of the word ‘wealth’. It’s nothing to do with money. Being ‘well’
comes from the same place as being ‘whole’. ‘Weal’ is the old word for it –
like in the King James Bible, ‘I create weal and I create woe’ says the Lord in
the book of Isaiah. So ‘weal’ is the condition of wellbeing; therefore ‘wellbeing’
is what ‘wealth’ really means. Money doesn’t come into it.
wouldn’t care how much I weighed if I feel this well. But. The other thing is,
now that I’ve understood the role of the adrenal glands and thryoid et al in my weight gain, I get it – how the
sugar fits in. And with the sugar knocked out, the surplus weight has just
rolled painlessly away. No slimming diet, no hunger. The wheat, I stopped because
it bloats me and gives me feelings of anxiety and dread. The dairy, I stopped
because it clags up my tonsils and fogs my brain and stops me singing because
it fills me up with mucus. The yeast, I stopped in case I had too much yeast in
my gut. And I feel well, well well! Dancing again, Singing again. Zipping about
again. Enjoying people’s company again. All the soft tissue pain and unshakeable despair just gone.
This time last year and now
case you, too are chronically tired and just dragging through life barely able
to put one foot in front of the other, I thought I’d let you know, so you could sniff along the info trails and see what you think.
have been thinking a bit about what I can contribute to the lives of my
grandchildren. So far, I am not a very useful grandmother. I find children very
alarming – they are so uninhibited and concentrated. And by heck, do they move
fast! Wild. I am more the sitting still and thinking type.
it came to me as I considered it, that I might have hold of the wrong end of
the stick in my ideas of what being a grandparent should be. Born to a
pragmatic mother who in turn descended from a whole dynasty of hard-headed
Yorkshire pragmatists, I am accustomed to defining life in terms of output,
result and usefulness. Work. By which standards I am a perennial disappointment
in any sphere. Wandering off has been my primary skill. Bewilderment is my
though, there is another route through this thing (life). Perhaps what I could
offer, and what indeed might be of most value to my grandchildren and their
parents, is simply to delight in them. To be on their side. Unconditional
positive regard. Unconditional love.
here’s weird. Okay, I’m sleeping on the floor with a big double duvet folded in
two – on half and under half. If I have a self-inflating 7.5cm camping mat
underneath (so not mega-padding), when I get up in the morning I have double
bags of fluid under both eyes and a kind of dewlap that I thought was fat on
the front of my throat. And some fluid retention to my ankles and abdomen.
I take the camping mat away and have nothing but plain floor under the
single-thickness duvet, in the morning I have no fluid retention to ankles and
abdomen, nor on my throat (so it must have been fluid not fat – I guess the
sinuses drain via there) and under my eyes is just wrinkly.
sleeping affects lymphatic drainage that much! Who would have thought it?
should say we – in our household – are not abnormally flippant and shallow. Far
from it. Intimidating, many think. We come across as kind of serious. People
apologise for swearing when we’re around (hahaha – little do they know).
Occasionally when we’re out and about, random strangers approach us in the
street to observe, “You’re not from here, are you?” Or ask us “Where are you
from?” And we say, “Hastings” and they say “Yes, but where are you really from?” They guess, bizarrely,
Germany or South Africa (why?). I guess we should say “Narnia” and be done with
it, but it seems facetious and impolite. The one I like best is when folk
coming through from the chapel to the flower hall, after I’ve conducted a
funeral, pause in the concrete covered way that looks out onto the fishpond, to
shake my hand and ask, wonderingly, “What are
you?” I’ve often wondered the same thing.
anyway, you get the drift – we aren’t airheads.
the world is by anyone’s measure in a serious condition. These are somber
times. The UK government tearing up the statute book because they want to frack
under our homes and soak the land with poison. Scientists calculating the human
race has a hundred years left and when it comes to destruction and disaster we
ain’t seen nothing yet. The United States deciding its war habit is going
nowhere in a hurry – got the taste for it and sticking with it. The poles
melting. The ebola virus on the loose. Genocide and misogyny and fundamentalism
and climate change and leaking nuclear reactors and dead oceans and war, war,
war. There’s surely enough going on to make even an unusually moronic zombie
sit up and take notice.
then, I wonder this. How does it come about that for such people in such a
world, earrings and shoes, fluffy cardigans and pretty tops are still an
attraction? They are a frequent focus of conversation. Our coffers do not
overflow, but eBay and the 70% sales are of intense interest. And it’s not just
us. I’ve heard it said, in disaster zones, where war has decimated the population,
if they can see to it that traumatised orphans are given a teddy to snuggle and
love, they do better than if they merely had shelter, food and meds.
seems to be something in human nature that is soothed and rested by a dose of
the frivolous – and this is healthy, and not to be despised.