I deserve it. This cookie, that cake, a taste of pastry, a bit of candy... It's a just dessert.
When it comes to my own immediate gratification, I am capable of rationalizing almost anything. To my good fortune, however, my idea of what it means to treat myself appears to be changing radically these days. If ever there be conventional sweets on my fork, or some other highly refined or overly processed culinary assault of all things nourishing and sacred, the Frankenfood that still seems capable of satisfying my palate clearly does not love me for long.
On the rare occasions I indulge, the passion of that first kiss fades all too quickly. What seemed attractive when I was drunk with desire becomes suddenly less appealing in this more sober light of morning. In truth, these indulgences have never loved me back. And now that I am less intoxicated - quite literally less poisoned by pesticides, preservatives, fertilizers, synthetic hormones and numerous other chemicals
Dear Honorable Judge of the Los Angeles Superior Court:
I'm guessing you don't want the responsibility of holding my health in your hands any more than I want you to have it. Nonetheless to some degree, that is the situation in which we now find ourselves regarding the August 3rd government raid of the Rawesome Foods private co-op of Venice, California. As the case unfolds, I ask that you consider these very important points:
First, the folks who will stand trial before you - James Stewart, Sharon Palmer and Victoria Bloch - are nothing short of heroes to their community, their friends and family, and especially, to people like me who suffer from chronic or degenerative illness. Each one of the defendants has been directly and profoundly instrumental in my own journey of recovery from Type 1 diabetes. Without their passion, strength and commitment to the
I dress up for doctor visits these days almost as if I were going on a date rather than to a medical appointment. Of course, I'm pretty sure it's ultimately not my fancy shoes, form-fitting skirt and bare shoulder V-neck top he's thinking of when he says, "Well, look at you! Don't you look fantastic?!" The cute clothes probably don't hurt in helping to produce that desired reaction, but I trust he's commenting more on my increased vitality and apparent happiness - my "glow" if you will.
He's not the only person verbally acknowledging the change, but I will credit my doctor with a unique perspective. He's seen me at my very worst, after all. He's told me himself he is still haunted by the image of me in the ER, my fragile underweight frame - just a pale ghost of a barely responsive and nearly comatose 27-year-old new diabetic, fighting like hell from some unseen place against an unheard-of 1600 blood sugar. He still recalls how I emerged from that Great Fight, terrified, trembling and confused, looking perhaps more like the loser than the winner.
Even if we deliberately refrain from talking politics for civility's sake, what we choose to eat can perhaps be more telling of our participation in government than what boxes we check on election day: Fast food or home-cooked? Steak or salad? Regular or diet? Raw or pasteurized? Conventional or organic? Gluten-free or not? Genetically modified or pure nature? Food from a box or from a local family farm?
Some of us ask ourselves these types of questions every day, some of us are already sturdy in the answers we've found, and yet others of us are only maybe peripherally aware that anyone is asking questions of this nature at all. Educating ourselves on issues like these can be a slow and sometimes painful process, but as with political candidates, the more we learn, the better our decisions become. The subtle similarities and differences among our options begin to reveal themselves as we move from general questions to more specific inquiries. Suddenly, what had been a choice between regular soda or diet soda becomes a decision to abstain from consuming Coke or Pepsi-type products altogether. Raw milk drinkers don't seem as insane as the TV news people would like us to think. The word Monsanto begins to conjure a negative emotional reaction. Still, some issues remain as much a mystery to us as the origin of our favorite grocery store item... What are the ingredients on the label, for example, and how do I even begin to pronounce them, let alone call any of it food? Where does my food come from? Who decides what is safe to eat? Who pays those people's salaries? Who are my food choices benefitting? Who makes money if not my local farmer? Why am I always tired? Why don't I feel healthier more often? What does 'genetically modified organism' (GMO) mean, and what are its consequences?
Sometimes I get so angry, I think I might go blind with rage. Some days, I can't help but break down in tears. Other times, I'm sure I'm going to breathe fire at any moment... Today, I've already experienced all that, and I've had enough. I am putting on my protest.
Meanwhile, in Ventura Country, a separate group of agents raided Healthy Family Farms, a Rawesome supplier, and arrested owner Sharon Palmer at a recommended bail of $120,000. Her associate and L.A. County liaison for the Weston A. Price Foundation, Victoria Bloch, was reportedly also arrested at a recommended bail of $60,000.
Though it is legal to sell raw milk in Calfornia, the charges against the three appear to include a conspiracy, related to what authorities insist is a lack of proper licensing and labeling - charges which seem clearly irrelevant in the case of a private buying club such as Rawesome, whose members all sign liability waivers acknowledging they understand the so-called risks involved in consuming products not 'approved' by the FDA. (For my part, I'm more suspicious of products the FDA approves. Just look at our rates of obesity, disease, and how little real nutrition is contained in most processed foods and fast-food meals... Please, can we stop pretending that "government knows best" and get back to making our own informed decisions?)
In any case, it seems the raid team involved here didn't even follow their own rules. Reports indicate the search warrant issued against Rawesome ultimately led to the confiscation of the club's on-hand cash, as well as the destruction or confiscation of [close to] its entire inventory. And now Rawesome regulars, like me, are asking why the entire inventory was destroyed if officials were in fact authorized to take only samples of product. The search warrant reportedly states that "various samples of any food products present may be taken for laboratory analysis." Did they mistake the drain for a Petri dish? And why, especially, were tens of thousands of dollars in organic fruits and vegetables hauled away in the back of a huge truck if their supposed concern was with the dairy? The answer, for me anyway, seems clear: The raid has the look and feel of outright persecution against those who choose a wholesome, nutrient dense Raw foods lifestyle.
These past few months you'd wonder where my head's been. I forget to wear my medical ID bracelet, and I don't always remember to check my blood sugar. I miss occasional support group meetings with fellow diabetics just trying to manage their condition. I defy doctors' orders, refuse to take their drugs, and am the regular recipient of scolding letters from my insurance company reminding me how important it is that I take the recommended daily dosage of a whole smattering of prescriptions I don't even need. Furthermore, I routinely and shamelessly devour honey, ice cream and other desserts (all raw), and I resist taking insulin and even disconnect from my insulin pump altogether at times.
That's right. I did it. I do it... It's all true.
So then why do my doctors continually insist they're so impressed and amazed by my performance as a diabetic? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my highest A1C ever (so far) was just 5.9, that my sensitivity to insulin is increasing, that I'm producing slightly more of my own natural insulin, and that my energy levels and overall zeal for life are so dramatically on the rise. Curious, isn't it?
For a diabetic, it takes a certain amount of faith to deliberately start spooning "tremendous amounts of unheated [raw] honey" into regular meals. Medically speaking, it makes no sense at all. But for months now, that's exactly what I've been doing... And the more, the better.
In his book, "We Want to Live: The Primal Diet", Aajonus Vonderplanitz recommends about 3/4 cups of unheated raw honey throughout each day to help heal the pancreas. When I first began this Raw foods adventure back in January, I needed more insulin, of course, to compensate for this new habit. It was an adjustment, as expected. After all I'd read about the dangers of synthetic insulin, the last thing I wanted to do was increase my dosage, but it was an adjustment I was willing to make temporarily if it would ultimately lead to healing.
Blueberries & Bee Pollen
And I'd say it is. These days, I regularly prepare raw honey-heavy fruit smoothies, as well as sandwiches using about 1/3 cup raw honey, about 1/4 cup raw peanut butter and 2 slices of low sodium organic, sprouted Ezekiel bread. And I eat them with little to no need for short-acting insulin... It's crazy.
I say 'crazy' because, as a diabetic, I have been trained routinely to avoid sweeter foods like honey (in any form), but in reality, raw unheated honey seems to be a key ingredient to my recovery from the diabetic condition. Ironic, no? It was certainly a leap of faith on my part that helped me cross that bridge.
Unfortunately, for most of us, the idea of real, observable healing seems as elusive and far-fetched as the idea of magic and miracles. And for some dumb reason, prescription pills still seem easier to swallow than the truth - that we need not be sick in the first place.
