Do Any of Us Really Know What We are Doing?

Paleo Principles by Sarah Ballantyne is an enormous tome, and I generally set a box of poker chips atop the pages of one side to hold it open so I can read while I eat breakfast. Bridget purchased the book when she still worked at Barnes & Noble, and I’ve taken it off her shelf, put it back, taken it down again—lather, rinse, and repeat—over the past year. A few weeks ago, I committed to reading it every morning, while I eat breakfast. I also committed to eating breakfast in the morning—something I’d not done in a very long time. So, now, each morning, after two cups of coffee (sometimes with the second cup), I eat two scrambled eggs and a slab of toasted pizza crust that I’ve previously baked and frozen, and I read a page or so in Ballantyne’s book. The toasted pizza crust is gluten free, but it’s not grain free, and I scramble my eggs with milk and mascarpone cheese, cook them in butter, and slather the crust with butter. In other words, I do not eat paleo while I read paleo. I can’t imagine I ever will, mostly because I don’t want to. What’s more, I don’t want to eat a carnivore diet or a keto one or a vegetarian one. I’d like to eat a semi-typical one, but it’s complicated.

I have figured out that there is always more than one way to interpret scientific “facts,” and that I am no one but myself. I know people who look and feel amazing on a carnivore diet, those who eat no meat and are beautiful, and others who manage to thrive on a keto diet. It’s like there is no one-size-fits-all solution in the food sphere, just like most of life. What’s more, while I might have ideas about one person being healthier than another, I cannot say for sure, and I no longer want to speculate. Minding my own business keeps me busy enough.*

This is new for me—not new as in “just the other day,” but new as in “about ten years ago, I finally started figuring things out.”

Even better, as life often goes, just today (in the last 15 minutes, as a matter of fact), I came across the perfect description of the way in which I used to view life.

We, the anxious, fret. We meddle. We care (yes, we care!). We try to solve, to fix and to find the endpoint. This is what we do. Agree?

We need to get out of the way.

We need to let go.

We need to take our “filthy mitts” off life … for ourselves. And for others.

That excerpt comes from Sarah Wilson in First We Make the Beast Beautiful, a book on anxiety that I am (somewhat surprisingly) loving. In fact, it, too, is a book I snagged from Bridget’s shelf (and have since replaced with another copy so I can keep this one). I won’t get into the qualifiers about my level of anxiety or need for control. I won’t compare myself to Wilson and what she deals with because: who cares? The point is that I understand what Wilson is saying in her quirky and fresh way. Even better, it’s nice to know that other people think as I do, and I appreciate having it put into words.

So, what I am learning by reading Paleo Principles,** tuning in to various nutritionists online,*** and dealing with my own food sensitivities and issues**** is that I will never find one answer, and I need to keep my filthy mitts off. Do I care that someone I love might be damaging their health and happiness by eating the wrong foods? Yes. Is there much I can do about it? No.

So, where do I go from here? Well, I plan to keep on reading, looking, researching, thinking, and questioning. As for everyone else? I recommend that they do the same.

*And I might as well take a moment here and now to apologize to anyone whose business I have paid too much attention to. To all of you, I am sorry, but please know that I meant well.
** written by a person who bases many of her assertions on theories she has decided are facts
***who contradict one another all the time
**** while always bearing in mind that environmental and chemical sensitivities play a huge role in when, why, and how various symptoms present themselves