There’s been a lot going on.
When is there NOT a lot going on? I’m not sure.
Maybe people without kids sometimes have days, even weeks, maybe months with an ordinary, manageable amount of things going on?
Maybe people who are not trying to build a business from absolute zero in a what-are-you-doing-no-one-does-it-like-this-what-the-heck kind of way are not perpetually riding a scream-y livelihood rollercoaster?
I don’t know. Because we have three kids. And LKE Dojo, which is like a fourth, especially unruly, kid. And there is always something going on
Things like health scares and leaking roofs and multi-member LLC taxes being 100 times harder than regular taxes.
Things like a wide-eyed I-just-returned-from-4-years-of-homeschooling freshman who has managed to acquire a boyfriend who is a senior. A SENIOR.
Things like the young man who lives in the back room deciding $1000 worth of driving lessons should be scheduled within a two week span of time because he’s going to “speed run” his driver’s license.
Things like the child who was on top of the world because she is in the cast of a fancy community musical is now crying into my duvet because she sprained her ankle during rehearsal and is worried she’ll be kicked out.
And usually. Usually I could look at these things and say “Thank the Universe THIS is what I have to worry about.” Usually I am able to rise above the stress to see that no one is dying, my heart is not broken, shelter and food are not in jeopardy, that I truly have it all: Cool work, vibrant health, a rock-solid relationship, good people in my life, and a kickass home bursting with love PLUS Banán will put THREE flavors into one bowl for me even though you are only supposed to put two. Chocolate peanut butter strawberry, I know you were wondering.
I felt like I should be okay. But I was not okay. And became rapidly more not okay.
Commence searching for a lifeline. I was ready for a solution. Preferably a clearcut, simple solution that would produce immediate life-altering results.
Cue listening to a podcast that said women, especially women approaching perimenopause, should eat a shit ton of protein. Like, so much protein. Podcast Doctor Person said I should have 30g of protein for breakfast, 30g, people! That’s 6 eggs. Or 5 cups of oatmeal. Or an entire block of firm tofu. Or 20 large bananas. For breakfast.
And then she said I should have .8 to 1g of protein per POUND of body weight, which equates to 96-120g of protein PER DAY. I think. I don’t know my exact weight, because my therapist told me people of my temperament should never step on a scale (and she is right), but I’m guessing I’m around 120 lbs., so 120g of protein? A day? How does one even accomplish that? That is so much tofu. Absurd.
Maybe some of you are saying “YOU DO IT BY EATING MEAT!” I don’t eat meat for a variety of reasons (one being that too much meat makes the backs of my ears weep, another being that meat turns my 28-day menstrual cycle into a 30-50 day menstrual cycle), so strike that from your list of helpful suggestions.
Then it dawned on me (mostly because Aileen said it with her mouth), that people load up on protein through things like shakes and bars. That’s why giant tubs of protein and the tall shelf of 63 types of protein bars at Whole Foods exist. Because while I may not be able to down two cups of pinto beans at one time, I can certainly intake the equivalent amount of protein by drinking a chocolate peanut butter shake or eating a bar that tastes like lemon cookies. Logical. Graceful, even.
As a leaper and doer, I started immediately. Plus, Podcast Doctor Person said I would feel the results in as little as three days. Three days?!! That feels pretty immediate.
This will be important later: Aileen was very much on board with my newfound love of protein as protein is her best friend, and I have spent the last eight years urging her to consume less protein and never ask for more.
Why? Well at some point back in the 2010s I watched several documentaries, and listened to several podcasts, that insisted regular people ingest an excessive, even ludicrous, amount of protein. “You only need 10-15% of your calories to come from protein!” several plant-based ambassadors shouted from the rooftops, and I took them very seriously. Every time I attempted to limit Aileen’s protein, I thought I was making her healthier. Essentially saving her life on a daily basis.
BUT it turns out Aileen’s body is a mighty protein sucker-upper. The woman craves protein shakes, and her protein shakes are yucko with nothing fun like sugars or flavor. Protein makes her feel strong and vibrant and nourished and sturdy and makes her muscles more bulge-y.
So did I feel a touch of guilt when I jumped onto the protein bandwagon and realized I had been discouraging Aileen from becoming her best self? Maybe. Okay, yes. But I felt it was more of a “rejoice that Angela finally came around” than a “point out Angela was stubborn for hella long” type of situation. She felt both expressions had merit. I disagree.
Back to me.
Saturday, protein shake. Protein bar. Protein banana soft serve. Hard boiled eggs. Researching protein powders and bars with clean ingredients now that protein is the most important thing in my life. I am gleeful as I am about to unlock radiant health.
Sunday, protein shake for breakfast. Protein bar. Another protein bar because I have bought 9 different types to try. Eggs. Also fruits and veggies because Podcast Doctor Person said I need 30g of fiber per day for my microbiome. Plus kimchi and coconut yogurt and more kimchi because Podcast Doctor Person said to also have 3 probiotic foods to round it all out.
This is why I was an A student, I listen and do.
I am feeling unhappy, but I assume it is because Rain’s ankle is now the size of two ankles but possesses the strength of zero ankles.
I assume it is because, despite the wonky ankle, we still have to spend hours at an event she is singing at in sideways rain. My umbrella immediately turns inside out and I am possibly freezing to death because my jacket is less raincoat and more sponge.
Worried and cold, two valid reasons for grumpiness.
Monday, I tried to choke down protein shake but threw in the towel after two-thirds and had Aileen-the-lover-of-protein finish it. Protein bar. Boiled eggs. Chickpeas. Scrambled eggs. Tofu I didn’t want to eat AT ALL but ate anyway. If you tell me to consume mass amounts of protein to feel more alive, I will do so with burning fervor.
But it was getting tiring.
But so far I was not feeling more alive. I was mostly feeling bleah in the body and absolutely horrible in the emotions.
And constipated.
Everyone and everything sucked. Every word that came out of anyone’s mouth were the most asinine, irritating words I’d ever heard.
Aileen commented on me finally seeing the protein light, and I was like “SHUT UP AND STOP SHAMING ME ABOUT THE DAMN PROTEIN!”
I got so mad during class (that I was teaching) I had to go into the backroom and have a quiet, but intense fit that involved an aggressive waving of arms and a little crying.
But the low point took place earlier, around 4:30pm, when I realized I was behind on time and had to rush to get ready for class. I decided my best plan of action was to scream while literally running from task to task.
I ran, while yelling (not words, just sound), to the front room to get my wallet, to the fridge to get my electrolytes, to the trampoline to jump angrily 100 times, to the back room to pack my bag, and the kids were like “Uh. Are you okay?” and I yelled “I AM SO FUCKING BEHIND I HAVE TO RUN TO BE FAST ENOUGH AAAAAAGH!”
After that the kids stopped speaking to me as it was clear mom was, for sure, NOT okay.
By the end of Monday I was devoid of all good feelings.
Joy? What is joy but a fantasy we chase through the relentless misery of life?
Hope? What is hope but a cruel generator of immense disappointment?
What is the point of living on this godforsaken rock in the middle of this godforsaken Universe where we all run around, trying to survive, trying to escape, trying to find bits and pinches of meaning until we die? And some of us die so goddamn early for no good reason, what is the point? THERE IS NO POINT!
It is at this moment I began to think the protein was not working as was promised.
So I did what any intelligent being would do and Googled “Consuming protein drinks and bars makes me feel so so so mad is this a thing?”
And guess what?
It’s a thing.
There are a number of us on this planet who do not fare well on processed protein. I read that, for us sensitive folk, protein powder can mess with tryptophan and drop both serotonin and dopamine while upping anxiety.
I’m not an asshole. I was just poisoned.
After my three days of protein overload I could not eat tofu for a good week. That’s how long it took for me to un-protein-poison myself and return to normal.
Now you may remember the beginning of the post and want to say “Oh but Angela, you were already not okay before the protein when you were floundering amidst your several first-world, privileged problems.”
But what I did not mention was that when Rain began rehearsals I started going to Whole Foods regularly for snackies. And at Whole Foods I bought protein bars because they are supposed to be healthy snackies. And that, I think, was enough to start the whole crisis.
What I have learned is that my body has grown wiser with age. I am no longer living in the days of my youth when I was slave to cravings for sugar and french fries and Boston’s pizza. If my protein shakes make me gag, there is a reason. If I think the bland, dried-out veggies at the Whole Foods hot bar are looking mighty fine, there is a reason. My body is smart and knows how to nourish itself, I just need to pay attention.
I also know that Aileen’s body is equally intelligent and I should never override her body’s messages even if they don’t make sense to me. Just because I love rice does not mean she should also eat mounds of rice. Just because she thrives on protein does not mean I will too. I can eat oodles of soy, she cannot. She can eat a handful of nuts first thing in the morning, which would make me want to barf. We are opposite in so many ways, why would we be identical when it comes to food?
Everyone is different. What a novel concept.
So if you find yourself inexplicably, irrationally, illogically full of rage? It might be as simple as what you are putting into your mouth. Maybe you’re not crazy, maybe you’re just consuming something your body doesn’t like. Like protein powder.
Right?
Right.
Love,
Angela
Like what you see?
Subscribe to my email list
and I'll let you know when I publish something new.
Want to support my work?
Buy me a cup of coffee
and absolutely make my day.
