In the Decluttering book I am listening to instead of thinking about making fudge sauce, I realized one of her ideas fits perfectly into my maintaining Phase III (maintenance) of this new food program I'm following.
Yes, a basic decluttering principle. Who knew? Certainly, not me, as I'm not known for any decluttering principles whatsoever.
One of her suggestions is to begin your decluttering with categories, not rooms, and start with clothes, for example, rather than family photos, because the former is easier to go through and decide which item you need to keep and which item you are going to throw away than the latter.
She suggests, very authoritatively I might add, that you should start with all the clothes you have in the house– in drawers, hanging on knobs, in hall and bedroom closets. In other words, everything. Put it in a mound in front of you. And, then, go through each item and take note immediately, gut type response, when you pick the item up– a sock, maybe, old and worn, ask yourself, does this bring me joy? In other words, the goal is to keep only those clothing items that bring you joy today, not yesterday, or the year before that, but today. The rest, you should bow to and thank for their service and then bag 'em for Goodwill.
So, here's why I think this concept fits Phase III. Since my single worry is that the food in this plan ultimately provides me no “joy” or “quick fixes” (no matter how great the recipe is)–for me, it just provides sustenance. And, since I am now fully aware that my use of food has a much deeper and wider root system than simple physical hunger, I think it's my job to go about creating food choices that approximate my old sugar and processed carbs “joys” and hope I'll be mature enough to go along with the fake. I don't think it is wise for me to reintroduce the old joys back in to yard, even though the plan theoretically allows for that.
So, today, I ask you? Does this regal romanesco look like pizza dough to you?
I'm about to find out.
If I fail at this, it'll be because my creativity fails and if I succeed it'll be because my creativity thankfully does not depend on sugar or processed carbs.
There are many creative writers who are on record saying that their addiction to alcohol was compounded by the fear that sobriety would block them from writing.
So, the roots go deep to many behavioral habits and their gnarly, twisting roots. Sort of like the romanesco photo, too, come to think of it!
Phase III will be the test of more of my creativity than anything outlined in the book.