Detoxing

Imagine waking up each morning feeling full of energy and vitality yet also feeling calm and relaxed about the day to come.   You know what?  Abundant health and wellbeing should be our natural state. We should wake up ready to launch into each day feeling joy, peace and a deep connection with our bodies. 

Yet it doesn’t happen, does it?  There are a whole host of reasons why we avoid total vibrant wellbeing.  But it’s always good to find something external to blame, huh?  So let’s scapegoat those nasty old toxins.

To be fair, the modern world is a bit of a toxic battleground.  Everywhere we turn we are assaulted by generally man-made toxins:  in the air we breathe, the food we eat and the water we drink.  Allergies and sensitivities are on the increase, many caused by the growing levels of pollution in the environment, chemicals in our homes and additives in our food.  Should we eat organic if we can afford it?  Hell yeah.  Should we think twice about the chemicals we put on our skin, in our mouths, around our houses?  Er, yup.

It is not just our physical bodies which bear the brunt either.  Our minds are overloaded; we feel a rising sense of panic when we try to cope with our increasing work load and the deep stresses and strains of coping in an increasingly complicated world.  When mind and body are assaulted, our souls can easily become “lost” in the battle.  We feel physically unwell, emotionally drained and psychically bereft.

So a whole bunch of us throw up our hands, thinking that since toxins are so prevalent why try to combat them?  Equally others fall into the opposite camp, living a miserable life eating seaweed and permanently purging themselves with enemas!  But there is a middle way. You can have your cake and eat it - you just need to cleanse it out every so often. 

I’ve written two books on detoxing and more features than I care to remember.  I looked into all the research, tried out pretty well all the practices and figured out what was worth doing and what wasn’t.  Recently I’ve updated and expanded my first book on the subject, The Detox Plan and Kim has put it out in Kindle format.

The aim was simple. Provide a straightforward, sensible guide to coping with our toxic world.  I tried to take a realistic look at the toxic threat - with clear advice about how you can reduce your own personal toxic load.

There are two programs detailed in the book.  A full one-month program which can be easily fitted into your everyday life or a weekend “retreat from the world”.   

I’m no angel.  I may have known all the theory but I didn’t always put it into practice.  But, as I explained in earlier blog posts, I was inspired by Marek Stefanowicz and his books to smarten up my act.  I became vegetarian (verging on vegan), gave up alcohol and caffeine, and took up meditation and exercise.  I also started fasting (usually one day a week or fortnight) and juicing.  Net result?  I dropped three dress sizes, toned up and barely ever get colds anymore. 

Now, not everyone is gonna want to go that route.  Which is where this modified version comes in – aka detoxing.  If you do regularly overload your body, a periodic detox (now is the ideal time as the weather gets warmer and we edge into spring) is a boon.  Sorry, but there is no gizmo that will do it for you – it’s a case of cutting out the baddies (just for a while) to give your body a break.  It may be a bit tough to begin with (your body becomes addicted to some stuff – caffeine and sugar in particular).  But honestly, you will feel absolutely amazingly good after a thorough cleanse – so good that you may not even want to go back to your old ways!  But if you do, your choice entirely.  Just give your body a break periodically – at the change of the seasons works well.  I hope the book cuts out all the crap (so to speak) and gives a sensible, easy to follow, plan.  

What it doesn't include are the following: 

Colonics.  Seriously you don’t need to do this. 

Gimmicky foot patches, magnets and other malarkeys – save your money, honestly.

Expensive spa treatments.  A nice adjunct but won’t do the hard work for you.

You can buy the book by clicking here  - I’ve also put up a Pinterest board for a bit of added inspiration. 

Er...I'm cleaning

Last night I went to my friend Gill’s house for the evening.  I love her place. It’s so welcoming, so reassuringly normal, about as far from Bonkers as you can get.  It’s not just that it’s deliciously warm, it’s beautifully clean. Ordered. Uncluttered. But above all clean. Her kitchen gleams. No really, it glitters like a vampire’s skin. You can see the wood on her table. Open her fridge and you don’t recoil in disgust. There is no gloopy alien lifeforce colonising her cooker.

It was late when I got home so I didn’t really notice the house much, except for tripping over a pile of something someone had thoughtfully left on the stairs.  Why didn’t I see it? Because there's no light on the stairs.  Having hurled your entire body weight against the door to shoulder your way in (you wonder why I work out? I need the muscles), you are then plunged into darkness the moment you slam it shut and have to feel your way up two flights of stairs (incidentally passing the Loo of Doom and the Cellar of Spirits – renamed after Lorraine’s visit – and barging your way through the partying entities).  Once through the door into the kitchen, you move from pitch darkness to a forgiving penumbra (there are lights but half the bulbs don’t work).  Anyhow, shadows hide a multitude of sins.

But this morning, in the unforgiving glare of cool low winter sun? Oh hell.  We live in a pigsty.  And, given our homes reflect our minds, that what we see around us mirrors our inner world?  Oh dear.  L

So. I got cleaning. I know, I know.  I was shocked too.  But I hauled James off the Xbox,  armed him with a timely sponge and pointed him in the right direction (ie told him to spin round, pick a spot, any spot, and start scrubbing).  Now then, is there anything more beautiful than the sight of a teenage boy on his hands and knees, cleaning?  Okay, so you do have to put up with the whole underpants showing over the low-slung jean thing (does ANYONE get that?) but hey…

Incidentally, do your children clean?  My mother was adamant that all boys should know how to clean, cook and do the laundry.  Just as she believed girls should be able to fix cars and use a drill.  She said she’d never forgive herself for bringing up a man who couldn’t fend for himself; who expected women to do all the domestic work.

I’m following her lead.  James is a good cook; is handy with mop, duster, scrubbing brush and vacuum cleaner. I’ve taught him the fine art of reading clothing labels and he can sort of iron (because that’s all his teacher can do).

Anyhow. The cleaning was actually relatively pleasant because we’d been given a whole bunch of Greenscents products to try out.  Greenscents are a local company who make household products with absolutely no chemical nasties.

I didn’t think I’d get excited about cleaning products but really these are pretty fabulous. I love them mainly because they smell divine – I’m hard pressed to choose between the mint and the citrus scent for general cleaning.  Lavender always wins me over in the laundry department.  Even Adrian’s a convert.  He reckons the wood floor cleaner is ‘the business’.  ‘Tell ‘em I like the smell,’ he says. ‘And it does a really good job.’

Yes, I’m plugging these guys, I freely admit it.  There are several reasons.

1. I like local.  I like to support small businesses, particularly those that give a damn about the environment.

2. I don’t like harsh chemical cleaners. I don’t like what they could potentially do to my family’s health and I don’t like what they do to the environment.

3. They’re damn good products. They do the job and make your home smell nice.

They are more expensive than the stuff you get in Tesco or whatever but I think they’re worth the extra.  Will I continue using them when this lot is finished?  Yes, I think so.  £2.50 for washing up liquid is a bit steep but the laundry liquid is a total keeper.  At £4.75 it’s around the price of the conventional stuff and it washes a treat.  I don’t usually use fabric conditioner – it’s a hangover from when my son was small and had appalling skin problems (conditioner can exacerbate eczema etc). But I’m hooked now on all our stuff smelling so damn…fresh.  However, if essential oils cause irritation (and they can – natural isn’t always the answer!) there is also an unscented range.

Sheesh, all this domestic goddessery and nice housewifery business is a bit alarming.  Time to strip off the pinny and get back to my usual slatternly ways. 

If you want to find out more about greenscents, check out their website – www.greenscents.co.uk

Feeding Size Zero Mother (with no help whatsoever from Nigella Lawson)

I have been a bit down lately. Nothing warranting hugs or pictures (honestly, truly, please don't), just a low-level not-as-good-as-I-should-be. Partly it’s because I’ve had a recurrence of the reactive arthritis I developed after catching a virus in Italy three years ago. But mainly it’s because Size Zero mother is doing her level best to drive me demented. Her weird eating habits have been getting so extreme of late that Something Had To Be Done. I tried to get her meals on wheels but, faced with her incredibly long (and in many parts totally inexplicable) list of culinary pass-nots, they shrugged their shoulders and ran for the door. Supermarket read-meals are a no-go area for much the same reason. So now I am cooking for her, running up batches of food, freezing them and racing them over every so often.
This is, shall we say, challenging as the list of ingredients she is ‘allergic’ to or ‘intolerant’ of runs to, at the last count: red meat; wheat and all wheat products; dairy produce (cow); potatoes; onions; tomatoes; celery; nuts; seeds; corn; mushrooms; kidney beans; cauliflower; peas; fruit; dried fruit (apart from bananas and occasionally plums). And that’s just this week. Also, everything has to be cooked until it more or less falls apart in the pan so her teeth can cope. When I try to tell her that this severely limits what I can cook, she more or less tells me I lack imagination.
‘Have you watched Nigella?’ she asks imperiously.
Er, no Mum, I’m too busy catching up on work or cooking to watch TV. Obviously I don’t say that – I just shake my head mutely.
‘Well, she uses leeks instead of onions. She says they’re much easier.’
‘Don’t really see that, Mum. After all, what could be easier than onions? Leeks need all that cleaning to get out the gritty bits.’
‘Oh no. Absolutely not. Nigella says you can get them ready cleaned.’
‘From where? Waitrose?’
‘Oh no. Everywhere does them. Nigella says so.’
Does she really?
‘Anyway. There are positively tons of things I can eat. I love vegetables.’
‘Yes but Mum, it’s pretty hard when you don’t eat tomatoes, onions, potatoes or mushrooms – most recipes seem to use those.’
‘Well, I gave you a book with recipes I could eat.’
Er, yes. Like ratatouille for example, with spidery writing dictating: ‘No onions, use peppers not tomatoes’. Hmm, so not really ratatouille then.
‘Well, you should watch the programme, Jane. Nigella knocks up these wonderful meals in next to no time. It’s really easy. She does it with all her friends round too.’
I’m not sure who I want to murder most – mother or Nigella. Truly, it’s a nightmare.

Yesterday I had to take her to the doctor’s as she has come off all her medication and is ‘feeling weird.’ Small wonder really as most normal people a) talk to their doctor before merrily stopping taking Betablockers, Digoxin, Co-amilofruse and Prozac and b) when they do come off them, they do it slowly. Not my mother.
So did it matter that she wasn’t on the meds?
The doctor shrugged. ‘When she had her last cardiology assessment she scored 150 beats per minute for 30 seconds. Most 83-year-olds would be dead after that. So I reckon her heart is pretty strong.’
‘So you’re happy that she’s not taking anything now?’
He shrugged again and gave me a look that said, clear as day, that my mother was a total nutcase in his eyes and that he heartily wished she were not on his list, and what was he supposed to do, go round and shove the tablets down her throat personally?
‘If she can’t take the betablockers, shouldn’t she be on something else? Like calcium channel blockers, for example?’
‘Would you take them?’ He looked at Mum and she had the grace to look sheepish.

Did he agree that we needed to do something about her anxiety?
‘Absolutely.’
‘I’m taking chamomile tea,’ says mother brightly. The doctor gives me ‘the look’ again.
Could she have CBT or CAT? No, but she could see ‘Geoff’, the counsellor. OK, now this is cruel and I don’t know Geoff from Adam but immediately I had a vision of round-toed sandals and socks, baggy cords and a stripy tank-top. Still, it’s a start. If he can stop her worrying about what to do if the phone rings while she’s answering the door, or can make her realise that it’s not the end of the world if someone sees her without full make-up, then it will be a Good Thing. If he can maybe persuade her that avoiding wheat while eating cake (er, yes, the normal wheat flour type of cake thing) then I will probably marry him and have water-birth babies with him.

Anyhow, enough of all that. All part of life’s rich tapestry. But it did make me think about the long-lost homework on ‘what I do when I’m feeling down…’ otherwise known as the Mood-boosters. So here, for what they’re worth, are the things that make me feel better, no matter what.

1. Crying. Sometimes there’s nothing for it, a good bit of full-on totally feeling sorry for myself catharsis is just fabulous. It doesn’t take much to make me sob: certain pieces of music; certain memories; reading about women having a tough time in childbirth…..I’m off, wailing and heaving the shoulders and lunging at Asbo who usually wriggles away (unless it is a Really Important Cry in which case he will earn his Chappie by snuggling up and being sympathetic).
2. Alcohol. I know that it’s a depressant and not really ideal. But. But. But. When life is really crap, the sound of a glass being filled can be nectar to the soul. Gin & tonic; brandy mac; Fleurie; Crozes; Pinot grigio; something fizzy (couldn’t really give a toss if it’s posh poo or cheap cava) – all raise the spirits (and even more so if glasses are clinked with good friends – real friends).
3. A tough hard workout. It’s usually the last thing I feel like doing but I know that, if I can make myself go to the gym or do an aerobics class, after a while the combination of pounding music and sweat pushes the doldrums aside. Something to do with all those endorphins I suppose.
4. Get a massage. I love nearly every kind of bodywork going – the tougher the better. By tuning into my body, I find that my mind often lets go and stops being quite so pathetic. I have trained both Adrian and James in the fine art of the neck rub, the foot rub and a truncated form of Indian Head Massage so, if I can’t get or afford a pukka massage therapist, I’ll nag them until they have a go.
5. Read. But only if it’s a really good page-turner. The one thing I couldn’t live without would be books and if life gets really shitty, I just run away to a distant corner, curl up in a blanket and read.
6. Watch a really good film. When I lived in cities and got really low, I would take myself off to a matinee. Sitting in the dark, with a big bag of popcorn and a coffee, being transported to another world was sheer heaven. Now I have to resort to old favourites on DVD – Into the West is my all-time feelgood movie – even with Ellen Barkin’s cod Irish accent.
7. Do a bit of divination. I got my first pack of tarot cards when I was about twelve and have been doing the tarot, the runes and the I Ching ever since. I don’t do them as a fortune reading exercise really; more a way of asking advice. Is it a supernatural power or simply our higher consciousness? Don’t know and don’t really care. It works.
8. Bake. I don’t do much cooking (apart from Zero Mum’s) but there is something magical and alchemical about baking. I love the way that you plonk a sloshy pile of goo in the oven and it comes out as a cake or brownies or whatever. You get to lick the bowl (back to childhood in a second!) and eat the results. Definitely heart-warming, if not remotely healthy.
9. Make my gratitude list. This sounds a bit worthy but it really works like nothing else for me. I think of ten things that have happened that very day for which I’m grateful. Could be teeny tiny – like James slipping his hand into mine or the sharp grapefruit tang of my aromatherapy candle. I try to keep it specific as otherwise it can become a bit rote…. But somehow it puts it all in perspective. Life ain’t that bad.