Life in the Fast(-ing) Lane

To date, the Facebook/Twitter fast has been rather anticlimactic. Abstaining from Twitter has proven so easy, in fact, that I am relieved to find my dependence on the status-update-driven site simply not extant. That said, abandoning Facebook leaves me feeling disconnected from the lives of my friends, especially those living outside of the Pacific Northwest. I have the horrible feeling that I am somehow missing out on something ... as if checking in with Facebook several times a day kept me better attuned to those I care about. This is an illogical conclusion for several reasons, one being that some of the most important people in my life (my mother and father, for example) do not even have Facebook profiles. It's also unreasonable to think that Facebook is a more direct mode of connection than other technologies, such as my cell phone or email. Ultimately, I find this feeling that something is going on without me stems from the many pictures posted on Facebook, the event invites I miss out on viewing the second my profile is included, and the stream-of-consciousness-like nature of tweaking my profile to reflect the music I am listening to, the books I read, and my random thoughts about the universe I determine must be shared publicly. What void in me does this desire for Facebook occupy? Do I really need Facebook to feel connected to my friends, to myself? Or is it just a means for further complicating my life and distracting myself from real relationships with real people in the real world?

As I sit with these musings I have to be honest with myself: I am terrible at this Facebook fast. I "cheat" every Sunday as Sundays are traditionally not considered part of Lent, and I unabashedly checked my profile on my birthday last week, justifying this by embracing St. Patrick's Day (my birthday) as a feast day and therefore it's not subject to Lenten stipulations. But really using Facebook at all, even if only once a week, feels as though I am being adulterous in my abstinence. All this just makes me wonder as to the power of abstaining ... is it the intention that matters, or the practice, or something else? People abstain from a variety of things for a variety of reasons--some folks are forced to abstain, some fasts are necessary due to limited means, some people are simply reaching for personal betterment.

I received a call from my doctor at eight o'clock the evening of my birthday. I've been experiencing rather severe stomach pain since last August and was referred to a functional medicine specialist a few weeks ago. On the phone my doctor--a small woman with a smart-sounding, soothing voice--let me know the results of my allergy test were in, and that of the twenty-two food allergies I was tested for, I am allergic to around six or seven foods. My most extreme allergies are to wheat, cow's milk and eggs. She kindly explained that these allergies may not be the entirety of my tummy troubles, but that removing these foods from my diet should help with the pain. There were other issues discussed, and I will avoid making the mistake of over sharing here, but ultimately the tangible plan for my recovery means eliminating wheat, cow's milk and eggs from meals. This news came as a rather disturbing blow. No more ice cream? No bread? What on earth am I to eat when I dine out for breakfast? I've been eating these foods my entire life and until last August there was never any problem! There has to be some mistake ... I can't eat pizza? As my roommate has gently coughed under her breath, this is a "First World" problem for sure. Much like most eating disorders or lap-band surgeries, people struggling for basic food, shelter and clothing probably do not bother worrying about whether or not they can eat a chicken pot pie as their next meal. I certainly have no experience with worrying about having a next meal.

Like any self-respecting, spoiled First World brat, I threw a childlike fit in response to the food allergy news. Passing through the stages of grief as if a sacred piece of my person had been violently torn away, I sat in denial eating pasta and muffins the first day or so. But as my stomach responded with insufferable cramping that left me depressed and couch-bound an entire day, I angrily caved and went one very grumpy day without any wheat, cow’s milk or egg foods. Still not feeling so great, I passed through into the acceptance of my new hobby, eating rice, fruits and plain veggies like a vegan, but with as much meat as I can justify. At present (it hasn’t even been a week since the news and my spirits broke) I find myself working towards getting excited about the foods I can have and trying to discover new recipes. This ordeal has left me with new ponderings about the nature of abstinence. Despite my whining, food allergies are extremely common and it is no great burden to simply avoid consuming certain foods. But I am finding it difficult to act very gung-ho about fasting against my will. Tuning out of Twitter and attempting to do so with Facebook seems palatable as it was my bright idea to do so, and to write about the experience here. However, declining quiches and cakes has never been my idea of a good time. Perhaps the forced fast from poisonous chocolate-chip cookies and ruinous burritos will yield greater spiritual insight than have my voluntary (and slightly failed) attempts to abolish social networking sites from my universe. If nothing else, I imagine less ice cream might leave me with less cellulite this swimsuit season.