An Awakening Dream

Last night, I had a strange dream. In my dream, it was war time and I like many others who managed to escape, we found ourselves in hiding.
There were about fifty of us...all clustered on a cold damp floor in the basement of an old abandoned building. I had a young boy with me, and my understanding was that my husband was murdered.

There huddled on the floor, there was nothing for us to do but to sleep and pray that we not be discovered, or bombed. We were all lined up on clothes, old bed sheets, towels, boxes or anything we could manage to salvage with us during our getaway.

Many of us, found each other here...hoping it would be a safe haven. Mothers tried to quiet
their babies, elders sighed heavily...not a word spoken to each other. The air was thick, cold and damp. There was a smell that lingered amongst us, a scent I have never experienced in this lifetime, and hope to never endure. The stench of death seemed to follow us everywhere. Our lives hung in the balance between living like animals, and being killed like beasts. We weren't living, but merely surviving between each breath.

Even in my dreamlike state, I knew we were all desperate, dreaming of our lives long gone. Hoping to survive, or at least protect our loved one's from the fate that awaited us all. Planes flew low over head, children began to whimper, and we all knew our time was limited, there was no where to hide, and nobody to save us...an alarm rang.


As I brushed my hand over my alarm clock, I felt an immediate sense of gratitude...for it was only a dream. Here tucked in my king size bed with oversize duvet and high thread count sheets,the sun shown down me as I opened my eyes to another day of my life. In those few moments, I felt with all my being...that even though we sense gratitude...we do not fully know the fortune of our lives today.

The alarm rang, but today I did not feel despair at having to get out of bed. I felt happiness, that I can get up, make noise without fear of execution. I felt warm as my feet touched the warm floor beneath me, and not a cold, molded cement floor. I awoke my son, feeling happy that he can go to school and learn what he wants, and not what someone else dictates he should learn.
I then went down the stairs, opened the cupboards overloaded with healthy food, gratitude filled my heart, I have the means to feed my children so they can grow strong and healthy. I packed his lunch and felt fortunate to be able to make him such a delicious meal that he will enjoy in
the company of his friends and peers.
He came down for breakfast, and I smiled at him with a good morning, for in our world...it is.

I then poured myself a coffee...the woman in my dream could only imagine a morning such as this...taken away from her through violence, and oppression. As I sipped my coffee and looked around me, we truly have so much to be grateful for. A plane flew over my house, and I realized it was travelers moving along their day too.
We take our wonderful lives for granted. No matter how mundane our lives may seem, we live, we breathe, we eat, and we move,
we speak, we sing and we dance. We are free.

I reflected upon my dream a little more before the rest of my day would move on...my heart filled with mixed emotions. How lucky I am today to be where I am...

I hope to change the way I perceive myself, my life and my experiences. I have a chance to make life count...my weight, my past, my insecurities, the negative around me, other people's words, choices etc...it's all irrelevant. I have a glorious life...with a husband who loves me, handsome, healthy children, supportive friends and family, food, shelter etc...most importantly, unlike the woman in my dream...I have the opportunity to live it.

Today, I was awakened by a dream...and I can only feel true gratefulness!

My Relationship with Chocolate

Easter was four days ago. I've now eaten at least five 1 lb chocolate rabbits. I say at least because I didn't count. I've eaten and eaten chocolate like I was on a mission. I hate chocolate for what it has done to me...yet my mouth waters at the thought of it. I'm addicted.

Yesterday, as I pounded through another rabbit, my oldest Diodato looked at me and said: "Mom, stop eating the chocolate because tomorrow you are going to cry that you go to the gym for nothing, because you never lose weight anyhow. Look at yourself!" Aha!

He was right. I still finished more chocolate, because now I felt depressed, and defiant. When the sugar rush set in, and I couldn't eat anymore, I looked over the left over wrapper and thought to myself 'I love chocolate, but look what it has done to me...it doesn't love me back."

Then I felt sorry for myself.

• I can't wear my wedding rings because I'm fat.
• My boys have a fat mother.
• I have no swag because I'm fat.
• I'm always the girl with the pretty face because I'm fat.
• I can't wear nice clothes because I'm fat.
• I can't run the marathon I've dreamed of running because I'm fat.
• I'm fat, I'm fat, because I'm fat.

Chocolate made me fat and still I nourish it with every bite.

Really, it's the story of my life. I give everything I have...even to those who have wronged me.
Chocolate. I love it. My relationship with chocolate began at a very young age. Alone, most of the time growing-up, chocolate was my friend, it comforted me. It made me happy. It made me feel warm and loved.


I was always the girl with chocolate to share. Most of my friends hung around with me because I was the girl with the junk food. I didn't know better. Hey, if you didn't teach your kids about nutrition, what would they eat? Candy, chocolate, soda etc...was always at my disposal. Nobody to tell me enough was enough. Only my body when I would eat so much that it would make me sick.

My most vivid memory of my chocolate obsession was when my paternal grand-mother passed, I was 12 years old. I baked a chocolate cake for the after funeral luncheon. However, I ate it all by myself instead. Then I recall, my first break-up with Alan B., a boy I had fallen head over heels in love with in Grade 11, and my first real boyfriend. He was so handsome (and still is), and so kind. The break-up shook me, I felt abandoned. Chocolate comforted me...and my weight began to pile back on. In 2004, when my marital problems came to surface, I tried to fight it with Nutella, but it wasn't enough and chocolate once again won me over.

So it is, my relationship with chocolate helped me through some rough times. It created some even worse moments for me, because being overweight is hell.

I have now decided to give up my relationship with chocolate. I'm sick of looking at myself, and must realize that eating chocolate makes me feel worse, not better. I am so worth the two second moment of comfort it brings to me...so much more worth it!

I am breaking-up with chocolate!!!!