In Seattle during the winter of 1987 I attended a festival of various products used in healing by practitioners of the New Age movement.  There were books, tapes, dietary supplements, music performances, and psychics.  I stayed away from the latter as they charged too much for their services which might be without any good value.  I enjoyed the music the most–predominately contemporary and meditative.  I filled out all prize drawings that were available for the product promotions.  It was a good thing that I had entered them as I was informed at a later date that I had won a cassette tape of subliminal messages hidden amid recorded sounds of soothing ocean waves.

I was given a choice of the available selections and options to purchase additional ones.  For my free one, I choose one for appetite or hunger control for my eating disorder.  I ordered two additional ones–on healing and health.  I was very curious and hopeful as to how much effect the subliminal messages would have.  They are based upon the premise that the unconscious mind could hear and receive influences from hidden suggestions even though they are inaudible to the conscious mind.  I played these tapes mostly during meditation.  From another company, I purchased several other tapes for self-hypnosis on selected topics: healing, more restful or efficient sleep, and relaxing the eyes for Kris.  Kris’ eyes tended to get tired very easily after working all day looking at the computer screen from eyestrain.  Due to the fragile condition of his eyes, he was more vulnerable.  I wanted to combine several methods in hope of better results.

After listening to my therapeutic tapes for a while I began to notice that I had gained a greater positive attitude in my health and had fewer negative thoughts about it.  I had become more relaxed and my attention span had continued to increase.  I began to avoid situations where food temptation was too great especially late at night when digestion enters the lowest ebb.  This was an influencing factor to leave the Sri Chinmoy Centre where over eating so late into the evening was difficult to resist.  Though I wasn’t by any means cured, I continued to make some progress though very gradually.

To further my soul searching and explore things in Seattle, I attended various churches and organizations.  One fall day in 1986 as I was driven through the north Capitol Hill area, close to the University Bridge, I discovered the Vedanta Society (Hindu sect) that met late Sunday mornings in an old house with live-in quarters for the caretakers.  About a hundred people attended the weekly services, many of who came from India.  After a few hours of service and study of the scriptures, we had a potluck feast mostly of Indian cuisine.  Since I lived about three miles from there, I often walked to get some exercise.  After attending regularly for several months during the first part of 1987, I stopped going because I felt that too much time was being spent on the doctrines.  This had been an established religion for millenniums and some of the teachings were very valid.  By the time I finished lunch there it would already be mid afternoon.

Shortly after I left the Sri Chinmoy Centre, I had checked out the Unity Church that was only a mile from me.  It was located in the Denny-Regrade area near downtown Seattle.  I had received the idea from two women from the meditation center who also went, but for different services.  It was a huge church, with three services on Sundays that was basically a blend of Christianity with some Eastern beliefs.  I mostly attended the earliest service so I would have enough time to walk to other things in Capitol Hill.

Organized by a few women from Unity church was the Women’s Spirit Circle that met at the church fellowship hall one Saturday morning a month.  I began to attend during the summer of 1988 as a opportunity to meet more people over a potluck breakfast with a variety of activities: dance, crafts, introduction to Native American spiritual practices and meditations with spiritual exercises.  We also had guest speakers on topics of general spiritual issues and personal experiences.  I was enthusiastic about the meetings for over a year until the spring of 1990 when I had gained as much from the activities as I wanted and needed to get away from the constant temptation of the food that hindered my spiritual growth.

I also explored several religious organizations, including Buddhism, Quakerism, and Judaism of which is discussed in greater details in another chapter.

In addition to practices for my spiritual health, I had searched for additional things for my physical health–pure filtered water, filtered air, and organically grown produce.  I had articles about the increasing contamination of tap water.  During the mid eighties, Kris and I had purchased an elaborate water filtration system with carbon-based and resin-based filters that were installed under our kitchen sink with a separate faucet that ran from the top.

A few years later during the late eighties, we had also bought the state-of-the-art large air filter device and an air ionizer we placed upstairs.  We used it when the air quality was at it worst.  We didn’t like using it too much as it made a lot of noise from the fan.  The ionizer created negatively charged ions into the air for a greater calming effect.  We kept it on all the time since it was quiet.  Positively charged ions tend to create higher levels of agitation or anxiety.

During the winter of 1987, I went to a few meetings and demonstrations about the healthful benefits of growing and consuming organically grown produce.  Since this movement of reviving the more natural means of farming without use of any pesticides or artificial fertilizers was just beginning, the availability of organic fruits and vegetables were still very limited.  Shopping at health food grocers for fresh food wasn’t convenient.  The only way that I could obtain a steady supply of organically grown foods was to grow them myself.  At one of the meetings in early February, I had picked up an application for a pea patch in Seattle and sent it off.

I was very lucky to be given a year-round plot at the University community garden by March as the spaces began to fill up very fast.  It was conveniently located close to the University of Washington where there was frequent bus service from our home.  I wanted to do gardening year round as many things–especially the hardy greens and the root crops–grow well during the winters in the Pacific Northwest and harvest fresh vegetables all year.

We didn’t need to start completely from nothing since they were already a few crops–beets, parsley, calendulas, Greek oregano, and tulips–in my pea patch.  I planted several of the traditional vegetables–carrots, chards, lettuce, and peas–from free seeds from the Seattle Pea Patch program.  I also transplanted several things such as cosmos, mints, sage, lemon balm, and tomatoes.

Shortly after I began to take care of a garden I learned about the edible weeds–chickweed, lamb quarters, dandelion, sheep sorrel, purslane, Sheppard’s purse, and sow thistle–which grow well in our climate.  One woman, who also had a pea patch in our community gardens, pointed out the chickweeds.  I should have eaten the good plants that I had pulled up.  I learned to identify most of the common edible weeds from books I had purchased.

Throughout the warmer months of the year when it tended to be dryer and there was more work to do at my garden I went to my pea patch twice a week after work plus Sundays straight from the University Friends Meeting.  Kris sometimes had helped me by picking up the steer manure fertilizer and watering the garden on the weekends whenever I was away.  Whenever we were both away on vacation for a week during the summer, we had people from our community garden water for us.  I generally was very meticulous about pulling out every little weed I saw since the plots were required to be kept up well. 

I received so much enjoyment from tending the garden.  Even though it was an added responsibility, it was a relaxing type of work.  This provided me with very meditative opportunities to commune with nature.  I was able to admire the beauty of the leaves, buds, flowers, insects, and butterflies.  I took delight in the patterns of the shapes, colors, textures, and the movements–all this with the bonus of reaping the harvests of fresh organically grown vegetables.

Even while I was in food service, I kept contact with the autism community.  The first project I became involved with was the Autism Task Force of about fifteen other members.  The group comprised of people from different backgrounds–professionals, parents, and individuals with autism.  We met about six times throughout 1986 through the analysis of where services were needed the most in the community.  There was a great need of services such as respite care, training in schools and businesses and employment opportunities.

A few years later in July of 1989, when the Autism Society of America had it’s annual conference in Seattle, I attended a few evening events and the two last sessions the final afternoon.  At the auction fund-raiser I purchased a few items.  Duane and Katie, former director of WPAS had tickets for Kris and me to attend the awards banquet that happened to take place on my thirty-second birthday.  Bessie, whom I had stayed with in White Center during the early eighties, sat next to us and drove us home.

The last session before the banquet was a panel on several personal perspectives on autism from service providers, parents, and an individual with the disability.  It was inspiring to hear people present their personal experiences.  This was a welcome addition to the conference that wasn’t included at the Boston one that I went to eight years earlier.

I met a few other adults with autism.  One short and slim woman, with an ebullient smile, was very excited to meet me as someone who could better able understands first hand her disability.  I was also very thrilled at meeting someone with autism who had done so well.  Kathy L. was a very bright young woman who had graduated from college in political science with a great interest in Soviet studies.  She was very articulate and focused very well on her main interest, Soviet or Russian culture.  She had a job and was able to support herself.  When she told me that her autism was the result of her mother contacting Rubella while she was pregnant, I was surprised as she was so different and much less disabled than Bea’s stepdaughter who had multiple disabilities from Rubella in uterus.

Kathy L. needed help in getting around Seattle to go sightseeing.  I was able take her around since I was free on that Saturday.  We went to the Seattle Center to go up the Space Needle and to the Bite of Seattle festival which coincided very well with our plans for lunch.  She just wanted pizza with which she was very familiar.  From there I took her to the Ballard Locks that didn’t interest her, unlike most tourists, who think is the main attraction of the area.  We walked by the Ballard sidewalk sale with a booth that sold a Scandinavian flag to her.  She collected flags of around the world.  Though I wasn’t a very good tour guide, it was a good opportunity to become more acquainted with each other.

During the late eighties, I was involved with some publicity on autism on television and newspapers.  On August 3, 1988, I appeared on a panel with two parents of children with autism on the Seattle Today Show on KING TV5.  I wore the business suit that I had made a few years earlier and walked to the TV studio since I was so close.  I presented myself very well as the format was of questions and answers which were very general and relatively easy to answer.  We had friends record a video for use to watch and to send to my mother.

 Several months later, Nancy Bartley, a staff reporter from the Seattle Times came to our place to interview me for an article on autism that was printed on January 5, 1989:

                                Deborah Thorsos is a trim, 31-year-old brunette, who when nervous speaks haltingly and twines her hair around her fingers.  She is married, a member of Toastmasters, a graduate of the University of Maryland, an avid gardener and hiker.

                                In a Capitol Hill condominium Deborah Thorsos, 31, reclines on a sofa in a living room banked with plants.  She is a success story.  Only 5 percent of autistic people are able to function at her level, Reichler said.

                                She didn’t learn to speak until she was 5.  She had difficulty understanding language and was prone to fits of anger during which she would throw books out the window.

                                She was sent to a school for developmentally handicapped children and began the slow steady progress that took her not only through high school but through the University of Maryland.  She graduated with a fine-arts degree and a minor in biology.

                                Four years ago, she married Kris Thorsos, 34, whom she met on the bus on the way to a party. After confirming that they were bound for the same address, Thorsos, who lost his sight after a childhood illness, told her: “I’ll show you the way.”

                                They say they’ve been an inseparable couple since.

                                Kris Thorsos works for the Social Security Administration, and Deborah works as a food-services clerk for Boeing’s Renton plant.

                                While some family members had initial hesitation when they decided to marry, they’ve since received both families’ support.  They also decided not to have children.

                                “I was afraid of passing down the tendency toward autism,” Deborah Thorsos said. “I would be afraid. It would be sad for the child to go through the same suffering I did.”

                                She recalls feelings of inferiority and incredible frustration at not being able to understand or communicate and the years it took to break through the invisible barrier that separated her from the rest of her world.

                                Autism’s traces linger in her sometimes halting speech, the slight nervous rocking and the winding of her dark hair through her fingers.

                                She has battled the obsessive/ compulsive behavior that often comes with autism and now is obsessed only with building her health.

                                She dabbles in astrology, Buddhism, meditation, healing with crystals and is happiest when working in her county-provided pea-patch garden or daydreaming, watching sea gulls pinwheel across the sky from her living-room window.

                                “There was something about her I can’t explain that turned me on to her,” her husband said from his office. “She’s very warm, very loving.  I remember thinking at the beginning it was a challenge, that by loving her things would work out.  And they did.”

A while after the article was out, an attractive middle-aged woman with a mild case of autism, from north of Seattle read about me in the newspaper and wrote me a letter with her phone number.  I called her and invited her to our place several times.  We had some common interests such as hiking and meditation.  She had worked with some people on self-hypnoses with use of self-guided imagery.  She did it to me for a few minutes during each visit.  As I was prone and relaxed, I described the meditative images of nature.  She didn’t charge me anything.  It was fun becoming acquainted with a reader with a similar type of disability.

A few times during the summer of 1989, the local of my food service union offered free to the union members seminars on Excellency that were recorded on videos.  I took the September class that met a total of four evenings during the week.  It was held at the Edgewater Inn with dinner included.  After we watched the videos we were given worksheets and had discussion with the black facilitator.  He shared his inspiring story of overcoming great challenges from being a troubled boy in Detroit with time spent in jail.  He turned his whole life around after taking the seminar on excellence and began conducting it.

The workshops were based on the premise that low self-esteem could result from negative programming into the subconscious that in turn could prevent us from rising above ourselves to achieve excellence or what we really want.  I had received negative input in my subconscious from many sources throughout my childhood which had affected me into my adulthood: “I’m autistic so therefore I’m not normal and can’t do some things as normal children could do and can’t always go to school with them.”

These negative messages, which become embedded in our being, adversely affect self-images of our bodies and our minds.  For example, for years I had seen myself as mostly a big organism with very large breasts and a big stomach.  Besides being slightly overweight, such attributes were greatly accentuated by poor posture.  I received encouragement and hope that if I released that image of myself and replaced it with an agile woman with good posture and a flat stomach, my goals would become more obtainable.

I was instructed to write down all of my goals and meditate on them just before I drifted off to sleep while in bed when the subconscious tend to be the most receptive.  It was no wonder why I had kept failing to modify some behaviors such as over eating as I kept clinging to the same negative patterns.  I was determined to change though it still wasn’t easy and it was a long slow process–like peeling many layers of a big onion.  This was helped by my meditation.  I vowed to overcome my eating disorder and gain control over food rather than letting it control me.

After my good friend, Dani, had surgery to remove her cancer from the abdominal area and stayed home, I called her frequently to offer her as much encouragement as possible with healing words.  She had radiation and chemotherapy since she had some spots that had spread to her spine that couldn’t be operated on.  She apparently had had the cancer for over five years.  I only was able to see her once during her illness since most of the time her immune system was too deficient for exposure to the outside world.  Despite her strong faith in religion and adaptation to the more healthful macrobiotic diet prescribed by a naturopath, she wasn’t able to fight the cancer and had passed away during the summer of 1989.  Though, I missed her, I felt that she would rest in peace and than be well taken care of.

During autumn of 1989 when Boeing mechanics, which made up the bulk of the workers, went on strike, I volunteered to stay home during the walkout after I was at work on the first day of it and saw how little there was to do.  I wanted to give my co-workers, who needed to work more than I, more of a chance especially as I knew that I would be out only temporarily.  I was ready for a vacation and thought it would be fun to stay home for a little while and catch up on some things.

During the first week I went on a long fast to detoxify my system.  I was highly motivated to improve my health and stamp out my eating disorder and grabbed at the opportunity to do so with the time off.  By the end of the week I felt very good, the best I ever had, and even lost some weight.  Not that thinness should be equated with health.  When I resumed eating I began to reduce going on binges.  I was on the road to recovery.

Since I had all the time off, I decided that it would be a good time to take a bus further out and attend Eastside Friends Meeting in Bellevue for a change.  I wanted to explore the area around it and I also wanted to become more acquainted with the people I met on the weekend retreats (quarterly meeting).

I made a very good friend there, who came from a highly educated family.  Terry R. was married with a twelve-year-old son and lived in Bellevue.  I told her about my background in autism and we hit it off very well.  We visited each other regularly and I met her mother who was an artist.  We also exchanged small gifts.  I was so happy to have met Terry that I had continued going to Eastside Friends even after I was back at work when the strike was settled.  I sometimes visited her when I had days off from food service.

About a month into the Boeings strike, I began to miss work with regular contact with people and the structure of the work.  Even though I kept mingling with friends at community activities, I felt a need to be with other people, besides my husband, at least a few times a week.  Though I had never got bored or ran out of things to do at home, I thrived on the structure of knowing what to do without thinking about it.  I lacked a solid plan for major projects and the self-discipline to get them accomplished which are required for working at home.  Besides, I needed the income from my job. 

When the mechanist strike was settled after eight weeks by the end of November, I was much more appreciative of my job when I returned to work even though there was less and less for me to do due to the restructuring of the plant.  I was happy to see my co-workers again and felt that they were glad to see me.

After I had filled in as the dish person for a month, during the winter of 1990, there was even less for me to do.  Often before lunch my duties would be completed and I had to scrounge for extra things to do.  This was actually more stressful to me than having too much to do.  I began to request that, like most other workers at the production center, I wanted to be sent out to different locations to work more directly with the customers.  I didn’t want to remain behind the scenes all the time as I advanced beyond complacency.

Luckily by end of March of 1990, which wasn’t too long after my request, I applied and was offered a cook’s helper position at the Garden Plaza (brand new office building on Park Avenue) with exactly the same hours as my old job.  I had been limited to what job openings I could take since I couldn’t start in the morning before seven that was required for most full-time jobs.

The change was very good since I was kept much busier with a more variety of tasks and different ones.  I had had my other position for seven years since my transfer to Renton.  Now I was responsible for preparing the side dishes–frozen vegetables, red potatoes, and rice–and cooking them in the steamer.  I also baked russet potatoes and prepared seasoning mixes for the entrees and soups.  As an added benefit to the more enjoyable position, though still very easy work I had received a hike in my pay scale since I moved up one notch into a higher job classification.

My prayer of working out in the front serving people directly was answered.  During the lunch service hours, I was assigned to serve on a hot food line where I was in direct contact with customers.  Apparently, the managers began to feel more comfortable to have me face the patrons and provide direct service as my more autistic facial and bodily expressions had gradually given way to a more outgoing look.  It was a good thing that I was finally trusted to do the job as I performed well with my cheerful spirit-of-service attitude of delivering whatever I could with the need to please the customers.  They all seemed happy with my service.  Most were very friendly.  My demeanor began to exude greater confidence though I still had long ways to go.

Since the autumn of 1989, Kris’ Social Security office moved from Seattle to a much larger facility about thirty miles south in an old, refurbished warehouse at the General Administrative Services at Auburn.  The teleservice center had increased capacity with a national toll-free number and needed more space with the expansion from about thirty employees to around six hundred.  Kris was very lucky to get a ride to the new location since only one woman offered to take him with no backup drivers as most of the worker refused the transfer and moved on.  He would still able to go by bus, but it was too long of a commute.

After commuting about half a year, even with a ride most of the time, Kris decided that we needed to move closer to the office for a shorter commute as it was wearing on him and he wasn’t able to always count on a ride.  During the spring of 1990, we began to look at condominiums and houses in the Kent and Auburn areas whenever we got rides from his parents and his friend Ray.

Initially we had viewed condos and townhouses since Kris wanted something with very low maintenance and we weren’t sure that we could afford a single-family house.  As he became more concerned about the higher fire hazards in condos with wood construction and we both longed for our own back yard, he reconsidered and focused our search for single detached homes with backyards.  We realized that we could always hire people for maintenance work when necessary.  As we approached summer, we focused our efforts in Auburn, close to the bus line with regular service so we could get around more easily.  But, we still looked close to where Kris worked.  We didn’t need to be as close to my job in Renton as I wouldn’t be working as many hours as Kris would be at his.

As I settled into my married life, which was very compatible, I went all over Seattle to visit various churches and temples.  I became very curious of what various faiths were like as I was searching my soul for a happier life.  I found that mantra meditation was very effective in making me calmer and focused for love, compassion, peace, and forgiveness.  I worked on reprogramming my negative karma into a positive with improving my self-image that was a very slow process.  I experimented with a few diets and fasting to clean out my system and improve my health.  I took up gardening for a greater communion with nature and fresh organic produce.

“How beautiful you are, my darling! Oh, how beautiful! Your eyes behind your veil are doves.  Your hair is like a flock of goats descending from Mount Gilead.”—Song of Songs 4:1

Just after our wedding while we were still in Maryland, I noticed that I had developed a hernia in the left groin area.  Though I was able to stick it back in, it popped out again as soon as I stood and moved.  Initially I was worried until my mother assured me it was a hernia.  I had had small hernias in the same area in my childhood, but they remained small and hidden for many years until suddenly one of them grew so large that something needed to be done.

Shortly after Kris and I came home from Ivan’s Graduation from the Air Force Academy in the spring of 1985; I made an appointment to see someone at the Group Health Cooperative facility in Capitol Hill that was very close to us.  I was covered under Kris’ health insurance plan.

The summer was soon approaching and I wanted to take advantage of the summer activities–picnics, hiking, and camping–I asked the doctor if it would be okay to put off my hernia repair until the fall when it would be easier for me to recuperate with less to do outdoors.  Besides, it would be less busy at food service when more people would be back from vacations, though I would be granted time off anytime for surgery.  The doctor felt that this would be fine since a few months longer wouldn’t be so critical. 

The Group Health Hospital at Capitol Hill was booked solid, so I needed to go to the hospital at the Eastside facility at Redmond.  On the morning of my surgery on September 4, 1985, my in-laws came to drive Kris and me to and from the hospital to save us from taking a taxi and to help me if I needed anything when we arrived home.  My mother-in-law fixed lunch for all of us and went home shortly after when assured that I would be fine without additional help.  I had the hernia repair as an outpatient so I didn’t need to spend any nights there.

After the local anesthesia had worn off several hours following the operation I began to feel a lot pain.  I had hope that I would be able to get by with just aspirin, but I was hurting so much that I had to resort to the much more powerful analgesic that I was prescribed.

Basically the drug I had taken for a few days was designed to control the pain by depressing the nervous system so as to numb the pain receptors.  This resulted in the slowing down of my systems–brain, muscles, and digestion.  I became very sluggish, thought I needed plenty of rest for better healing.  The worst part was when I had terrible constipation, as I had a tendency to begin with.

I was home for four weeks as my job in food service involved being on my feet with some lifting which would have caused a strain on my surgery.  I welcomed the break from work, especially since I had received three weeks worth of time-off compensation from my union.  After practically being in bed all of the first week, I began to regain some of my strength and were able to do things as long as they weren’t too physical.

Since I had so much time off I did some activities that I normally didn’t have time for.  I shopped at a fabric store and made a gray woolen business suit to wear just in case I would have a job interview.  Even though I wasn’t actively looking for another job, I wanted to be ready in case any of my Boeing contacts would be able to get me a job directly for the company which would provide a greater amount of pay.

While I was up and about during my recuperation from the hernia repair, especially the last two weeks when I was feeling more and more normal, I got tired of staying home all the time and went to as many things as possible as long as I didn’t need to walk too much.  I went to all of the community open houses that I saw advertised in my area, picnics, and a series of foreign films shown for free at the Seattle Public Library in downtown.  I normally didn’t watch movies though I occasionally attended slide shows.  I was happy to go back to work at the end of the four weeks of recovery.

I was puzzled as to why I had developed hernia since it had been associated with those who had been involved with prolonged heavy lifting such as in certain jobs.  Though I hadn’t done much heavy lifting I had theorized that the culprit was chronic constipation that could cause greater wear and tear of the muscles in the abdominal area from frequent straining while using the bathroom.  Despite being on a high fiber diet, I suffered from it.

Generally those with autism tend to be more prone to digestive or bowel disorders, such as diarrhea, constipation, or both.  My mother, who didn’t have autism, had irritable bowel syndrome.  So, I apparently had inherited the disorder from her and not all of it could be the result of my neurological condition. The build up of stresses that are inherent in the disability could cause great havoc with digestion since it tends to be very sensitive to the stress hormones.

To learn more about improving my health, with a greater emphasis on nutrition and digestion, I subscribed to the magazine, Prevention, and purchased several books on healing and health.  Though most of the information was general there were a few things here and there that I was able to learn.

Throughout the mid to late eighties whenever I was home for more than a few days during some of the holidays or when I was home with illness, I went on fasts where I didn’t take in any solid food but lots of liquids–herbal teas and an intestinal cleansing formula in water.  I had read in several articles and books that fasts could be effective in removing the accumulated toxins from the system and in giving the overworked digestive system a break.  To further draw out and eliminate toxins to prevent reabsorption whenever I fasted for a few days or more I gave myself coffee enemas that were recommended by several health books.

During the late eighties I had a colonic (colon irrigation) a few times.  The procedure involved putting a tube in the rectum for the maximum amount of water from the tank filled up the entire colon until the pressure became too great and released.  Though the result on my system wasn’t as striking as I had hoped, it was good to investigate and try various programs to find what would be effective and help the most.  I felt that my open mindedness would enable me to win in the long run.  There could have been other factors that were implicated in my constipation that might had been overlooked–emotions, hormonal or metabolic imbalances, and overeating which tend to be common in autism.

Periodically during the late eighties I had experimented with a few laxatives which were much too strong for me–a laxative herbal tea (an assortments of herbs which stimulate the bowel) and a laxative gel cap product (claims for breaking up of hard impacted waste matter)–which by the next day after them I reacted much too strongly and cramped with diarrhea.  After I had rebounded from the products, I ended up even more constipated.

Throughout most of my life as I reduced the amount of dairy products and increase amount of dietary fiber and increase physical activities, I notice gradual improvements in my digestion.  I went from defecating twice a week to about ten a week.  Usually in the mornings, I clean myself out very well with a substantial bowel movement with easy elimination.  It feels good.  Whenever I flush a toilet, I keep the handle down for several seconds until I am about to hear the contents go down then let go for a more powerful flush so things go down.  I have a long gut.  My digestion does still can be thrown off from stresses, such as emotional turmoil and travel.  I tend to feel best when I have at least one good bowel movement a day.

I basically consume a high fiber natural whole foods diet that is low on animal foods and glutinous grains.  I occasionally eat salmon, sardines, some white fish, and organically raised poultry and eggs.  I sometime have yogurt.  Most days I am a vegan (strict vegetarian).  I do not consume red meats and shell food.  I eat all sorts of whole grains, including rice, millet, quinoa, oats, spelt, and rye and all sorts of beans and lentils.  I eat lots of green leafy vegetables and other veggies.    I have fruits mostly when they are in season and is from our back yard, including raspberries, apples, figs, and plums.  I find that I could now have peanuts and nuts in moderation without any reactions as in years past.

Both Kris and I had become very adamant about not having any children.  Kris’ low physical endurance from his visual impairment and over worked eyes wouldn’t allow him to effectively handle the responsibilities of fatherhood.  I, besides the greater genetic risk of passing on autism through future generations, was also concerned with whether we would sufficiently be able to provide for all of the needs for our children–environmental, economical, and social.  Not that autism is bad.  Despite the increasing numbers of mothers with small children working outside of the home, there was no way that I could continue employment while raising little ones.  It would be too much for me emotionally and physically.  Both of us had been enjoying the carefree lifestyle without any worries of parenthood and having a greater amount of freedom to come and go as we please.

After using latex birth control devices for a little while I had a tubal ligation as an outpatient at the Group Health Hospital on January of 1986.  This was very wise as we were firm in our decision.  This operation was a lot easier than hernia repair as I was able to go back to work after two days.  I was even able to take the bus home after I walked out of the hospital.  Kris was with me to be available for assistance.  The costs were covered.  What Group Health didn’t cover, my union health care paid the rest though not until a year later.  I had presented them with an article about possible genetic causes of autism for consideration of the coverage.

Besides taking vacations to visit relatives, we sometimes did other things for more variety.  For example, in May of 1986 my in-laws drove Kris and I up to Vancouver, British Columbia for the world’s fair, Expo ‘86, for several days.  On the way to and from Canada, we stayed at a Hotel 6 in Bellingham, a university town.  While in British Columbia we stayed in a nice bed ‘n breakfast place in a senior couple’s home that we were referred to by friends.

Despite the huge crowds and long lines to get into any building at the expo, I enjoyed the exhibits from many countries including films and slides from all over the world.  I received so much more from Expo ‘86 as an adult than I did from the New York World’s Fair in the mid sixties as a child.  Since it was so easy to get lost and separated with the vast areas and hordes of people, Kris and I held hands during the entire time.  His parents went on their own way and we all met at a certain place at a certain time each day.

Over a year later during the end of July of 1987, we went back to Canada for a week of vacation, but at my brother-in-law, Eric’s, summer property with an old cabin at Cortes Island.  The family had owned acreage there for years.  They had stayed there for a month every summer.  The island is located about eighty miles north of Vancouver.  This was approximately the same remote area that I had wanted to move to years earlier when I had an obsession of leaving New York when I was fifteen.  It was as though I had already made a connection to the region.

Kris and I flew in by a six-passenger seaplane from Seattle to a harbor where Eric and family picked us up in their van.  They parked it at the end of the road at Culture Bay that was the closest we could drive to their place.  We went the rest of the way on the water in their old dinghy and made several trips.  The alternative was to hike in the woods on steep rocky trails and old logging roads, which would be challenging for Kris.  Hiking out was necessary whenever it was too stormy to take the boat out.

Kris and I slept in my two-person tent close to the water (Desolate Sound) but still in the woods. The cabin was a little bit up the hill with a great view of the passage.  The beach was very rugged with mounds of large rocks and boulders.  Since this presented more of a challenge for Kris to stroll along the beach, he began to build and maintain a trail in the woods along the side of the waterfront to the point as far as the property went.  During the early mornings as I hiked in the woods or along the beach, I munched on salal berries here and there as a pre-breakfast appetizer.  Later in the day I ate seaweed and other weeds from the beach.  In the cabin I referred to a book for a guide to edible weeds and wilds.

Without indoor plumbing, we filled up buckets of water from the stream close by and kept food cool in old refrigerator crisper bins with make-do plywood lids.  We heated up water and cooked over an old wood stove.  I bathed in the sound and took a shower from a portable camper’s kit.  Instead of an outhouse, we dug deep pits out in the woods a little way from behind the cabin and set up an old chair with a big hole in the seat with an old toilet seat on top of it as a make-do toilet.  When the pit got full we dug up another one.

A few months later in September, I went on my only week long backpack with the Mountaineers though we got rained out on the third day and left early to go home the next day.  A group of about ten of us were supposed to circle around Mount Hood in Oregon, but were only able to go half way before leaving.  Even though we had had a period of drought during the summer in the Pacific Northwest with watering restrictions imposed by late summer, I didn’t want the rain that was the first one in months.  Despite certain hardships–weather, load weighted down by excessive weight of food, and dampness with chilly evenings; I still had a very good time hiking, enjoying the scenery, and spending time with people.

I had wanted to go on more extended backpacks or camping trips for several years by then, but between fitting in other vacation plans and the very limited number of trips printed up in the Mountaineer bulletin I hadn’t managed.  Most of the week-long trips didn’t appear until the April issue for the following summer, when it was already way past the due date in my request which had to be turned in by end of January for the entire year especially when asking time off during the peak high demand period throughout the summer.  It almost didn’t matter since I had limited time off anyway and had my side of the family to visit in the East coast that used up some of my vacation time.

As Kris and I became more settled in our marriage about six months after the wedding and upon full recovery from my surgery in the fall of 1985, I began to explore Seattle for cultural activities.  I had read all of the flyers that were stapled on posts about rallies, meetings, and other events.  I was curious as to what the city had to offer in the way of events and ongoing things to go to without admission charges.

Though Kris and I were very happy in our relationship, we did some things separately as well as doing them together.  The main activity that Kris went to without me was during the football season in the fall when he, who loved to watch all the football games on TV, went to a few Husky football events at the University of Washington.  He went with a good family friend who had season tickets to the home games.  Ray was the son of a set of Kris’ godparents.  He was very close to Kris.  He was very friendly and was often available to take him to shop or to Harstine Island to visit my in-laws.

Generally since Kris often needed to rest his eyes he tended to be a homebody.  Having grown up with the Episcopal denomination, he often went to the Episcopal Trinity Parish since living in our condo.  He usually attended the Wednesday evening services after work since it was easier than attending on Sunday.  Sometimes I went with him and both of us joined a home bible study group from the church.  Other times I went alone to explore other faiths.  This was okay with Kris as he was very open-minded, though he didn’t want to go with me.

One thing that I went alone was to a free concert of flute music by Sri Chinmoy.  This seemed enjoyable so I went to it one evening.  Sri Chinmoy, an Indian born guru, had lived in New York and toured the country and the world to perform.  His music was very meditative and soothing.  At the end of the evening at the concert I picked up a flyer about an upcoming weekend workshop on meditation that was free.

My interest in meditation began to resurface in the fall of 1985 after many years since I had tried it for a little while when I was seventeen.  I felt that it would help me relax more.  I had heard that the benefits from it include calming of the nervous system that I felt that I needed.  I was much more motivated to give this a try than I was eleven years earlier.

The weekend workshop not only provided spiritual nourishment with talks and meditation, but also physical nourishment with lunches and snacks.  The meals were vegetarian as the use of the flesh foods, alcoholic beverages, and drugs were strongly discouraged as influenced by Hinduism.  The dietary restrictions were very much in line with what I believed in and had been practicing though I wasn’t always strict about avoiding meat entirely whenever I was out.  The people seemed very friendly and calmer than most folks–likely the result of allowing time for relaxation.

I was impressed with the healthful lifestyle philosophy and joined the Sri Chinmoy Meditation Center following their workshop.  During the first six weeks I went to the new member meetings on beginning meditation.  After that I had attended meetings with the full-fledged members mostly on Friday and Sunday evenings when it was generally the most convenient.  We met as much as three evenings and one morning a week.

The center was located in the home of a family in the Montlake neighborhood of Seattle, near the arboretum and close to the University of Washington.  It also wasn’t far from our home, close enough that it was a straight shot by bus.  Even though it would already be dark at around nine o’clock by the time the meeting ended, I felt safe going home alone through the Seattle streets. 

During each meditation we started with a side of a cassette tape of music by Sri Chinmoy and continue with silence through the end of the hour.  Occasionally we also included very slow walking around the room for about five to ten minutes.  During the conclusion, we took turns one by one to go up to the altar to receive a small treat (prasad).  The altar had briquettes of freshly cut flowers, candles, incense, and framed photographs of Sri Chinmoy.

The men, together on the left side of the room, were clean-shaven and dressed in white shirt and pants.  The women, sitting on the right side, wore Indian style clothing–sari, or matching dresses with long side slits and pants.  I made my first two saris since they were the easiest to make.  I received a few more as gifts and purchased a few used ones from other members.  One elderly woman, who was very active in the group, noticed that I didn’t have a slip that was long enough so she had sewed me one.

The same woman, who had made me the slip, showed concern for me and was outspoken.  For example, whenever I spoke too loudly or when I interrupted others during a discussion, she kindly pointed out these things.  I took the constructive criticisms well as I knew that they were for my good.

The meditation group was a very closely knit, with the frequent meetings and the generous amount of substantial refreshments served at the end.  We all took turns supplying the refreshments and the flowers.  It was required that each member came at least once a week except when out of town.  We also celebrated everyone’s birthdays with monthly birthday parties and showers of gifts.  We also had birthday cakes with candles.  Some of my friends were generous with their presents–new saris, a large quartz crystal, and a bag full of groceries from a health food store.

Often the food prepared, especially for the Wednesday evening dinners, potlucks, or weekend retreats, was Indian cuisine.  The fare usually included basmati rice, dhal (spicy split peas or lentils), spicy potato/ vegetable medley, and chutneys (fruit relish).  This was one of my favorite cuisines along with Oriental food.  I loved all of the Indian spices and the way the flavors melded together.  Apparently my taste buds were more Indian and Oriental than Jewish despite growing up with Jewish foods.  Not that I didn’t like them.  I had always gone more for foods that were more flavorful or spicier than bland.  The cuisine of my heritage tended to be blander.  Whenever I had cooked beans, I used plenty of herbs and spices.

Almost every month, there was a weekend gathering (joy days) of the four Sri Chinmoy meditation groups in the Pacific Northwest–Victoria and Vancouver, British Columbia in Canada; Seattle, Washington and Portland, Oregon.  We rotated between these locations where the hosting group prepared the delicious vegetarian food.  The out-of-towners were put up in homes of the local disciples for Saturday evening.  On Sunday morning, we all helped the host center by sponsoring community athletic events to raise funds.

A young female disciple, who was very friendly and active in the group, provided me with most of the rides to joy days that were out of town.  She had a severe skin condition with red splotches and scarring (rosacea) all over her face and other parts of her body.  She helped out in the Sri Chinmoy enterprises; health food deli, bookstore, and vegetarian Indian restaurant.  I went with her to several places to distribute flyers for our upcoming activities.  Her skin appearance didn’t bother me at all as her inner and outer beauty over shadowed the physical imperfection.

The guru, who was highly spiritual with a background of Eastern religions, had many talents: music, poetry, painting, running, and weight lifting.  When he was on a tour in the Pacific Northwest, including Washington State and British Columbia during November of 1986, I went with the group to see him perform in Seattle and a few days later in Vancouver, B.C.  I was picked up on a Friday evening and spent a night at Vancouver at a hotel with a bunch of disciples.

Even though I had never idolized and worshipped any human being as if a god, I wanted to see what the experience of the disciples gathering around the guru was like.  I had heard from some friends that generally there would be a greater amount of excitement.  I was very interested to see that many of the people had come from as far as California.  It was amazing to hear that the guru had a large entourage with him from New York.  The main reasons why I came were to be with my friends, to meet people and to take walks in a different area rather than focus entirely on Sri Chinmoy.

The majority of the members, around thirty in all, were young and single, though there were a few families such as a couple with two growing boys in whose house the meetings were held.  There was another family with a little girl and boy, and a young couple without children.  A rule that didn’t make sense to me, though it was irrelevant since I wasn’t planning to have children, was that once single, stay single and once childless, stay childless while being in the group.  This discouraged people for making changes in their lives.

Many of the disciples were given spiritual Indian names by the guru, especially the old timers who had visited him regularly.  As he got to know each follower, he would meditate on a name that would be most befitting for the member.  Three times a year most of the disciples flocked to New York to be with Sri Chinmoy for a week long festivals.  It was set as a requirement that those who had been disciples for at least four years or more were to attend at least one of the New York festivals every year.  I never went to any of them since I had limited vacation time and limited funds for the traveling expenses.  I preferred to use my weeks off to visit my family in Maryland, other relatives and going to other places for exploring.

By the end of summer of 1987 when I had been attending the meditation center for almost two years, I contemplated and considered for a few months, and realized it was time for me to move on and drop out from the center.  Though I was lured by the positive qualities–generosity of the refreshments, closeness of the camaraderie, and acceptance–it wasn’t for me to continue.  With my low self-esteem and longing for greater acceptance by others, I was very susceptible to being drawn into a cult with some strange values, and they were anti-family.

There were too many refreshments which lead to temptation that was too difficult for me to control, not that anyone should had been blamed.  I also didn’t have any intentions of attending any of Sri Chinmoy’s New York festivals that was required of long standing disciples.  Nobody ever inflicted any harm upon me, and the main thing that I received from the organization was learning to meditate and the benefits from it.  There were also other organizations that I wanted to check out or already had begun without jamming my schedule so much.

Throughout the latter part of the eighties I looked at other Indians gurus during their tours in Seattle, at free community gatherings that featured meditations and concerts.  They weren’t any better than Sri Chinmoy though different and had formed their own cults.  These gurus generally had come from impoverished backgrounds–extreme poverty or abusive households–that apparently influenced their outlook in life.  Though they, like him, had drawn followers and formed meditation groups that met regularly, I never joined.  One was a man who claimed to have meditated for entire days, which I feel are excessive and overdoing a good thing.  He offered darshan to each individual in attendance of which each goes up to him and receive a Prasad (food or small gift).  I attended a few meditations with vegetarian potlucks. 

Another was a woman guru, Mata Amritanandamayi (Amma).  She offered darshan with hugs to each who come up to her.  She preached loving embrace and have been visiting the Seattle area every year since 1987.  Her entourage included people who played meditative and Indian music of which I enjoyed very much and purchased some recordings of the music.  When she came to the Seattle area, she held meditation sessions at a home in the Eastside for a weekend of which I got the information from a New Age publication.   I continued to attend her meditations some subsequent years when she was in Seattle and met at large halls to accommodate the large crowds she attracted.  While I was at her meditation, I had a strong longing to get free from my food addictions and wanted peace so much.  I hanged on to hope and determined to never let go of it.  While I was sitting on a large cushion on a floor with most of the people in the group, I asked myself, “is this the day that I would be set free from my addictions?”  I did receive love and peace in glimpses.  So I was hopeful that I would receive much more in the future when I get my life more together.

At home I set up my small altar on the right side of an old desk that Kris had had for many years while the left side was still used as the night table by the bed.  It was the only space in our place that we were able to make room to use.  On my half, I placed a small tablecloth of either my boutiques or appliqués.  I laid out some of my seashells, and whenever I had freshly cut flowers or incense, I placed them on the desk.

I tried to meditate at least once a day, mostly early in the morning when I was at my freshest and our unit was the quietest.  Whenever I was able to get up before the alarm went off, I allowed an extra half hour in the weekday morning before work to get ready so I would have time to meditate.  When I purchased a small boom box I played soothing cassette tapes during meditation.  I bought a bunch of tapes from the Sri Chinmoy center of music by the guru himself or by other artists from his compositions.  The prices were reasonable and the proceeds went back to the center.

Since I had meditated, I noticed that I had become calmer and more in tuned with my human nature, along with the calming effects of my vegetarian diet.  Even a few disciples from the center had discerned a change in me from when I had started.  I had developed an increased spiritual or serene glow.  My self-esteem that was low for so many years began to be raised, but I still had long way to go on my journey.

 MARRIAGE AND SOUL EXPLORATION

Circle of Love

Where there is love, there is peace.

Where there is peace, there is serenity.

Where there is serenity, there is compassion.

Where there is compassion, there is forgiveness.

Where there is forgiveness, there is harmony.

Where there is harmony, there is enlightenment.

Where there is enlightenment, there is unity.

Where there is unity, there is love.

Once I got married, I started to feel more settled down and my living situation was more permanent.  I was done worrying of looking around for a good mate or whether I would ever find one.  It felt so good to settle down with someone whom I love and relish this wonderful companionship.  We were also very fortunate to live in a central location, which made exploring culture and community events easy.  As I took in information from meetings about alternative natural treatments and spirituality, I explored these areas that were discussed.  I was a seeking and lost soul looking for enlightenment and peace.

By the end of February of 1985, I moved out of the rooming house a few weeks before my wedding.  I had two men, Bob and an acquaintance, Bill, from my Toastmasters group, helped me move by carrying out cartons and transporting them to Kris’ condo.  Just a few weeks earlier, I helped Bill move from his house to one in another area in Seattle.  All of my belongings were able to fit easily into both cars, so only one trip was required from each helper.

Shortly after I moved my friend Barbara whom I met at the Washington Protection and Advocacy System hosted a bridal shower for me at her apartment close to the Ballard neighborhood in Seattle.  Prior to the party, I made out a short list of women to be invited.  Most of the guests were also from WPAS–Katie, Parul, Laura, and Mary.  Kris’ mother also came and drove me home.

At work there was another shower for me.  Shortly after I arrived at the cafeteria, I was called into the small production office.  A secretary told me that I had a form to fill out and she began to look for it.  As I walked back to my work area, I heard a chorus of “Surprise!”  On one stainless steel table was a big pile of gifts that my co-workers put out while I was at the office on the pretend business that hid me from the action.  On another table next to the gifts was a fruit platter.  Since they knew that I wouldn’t eat cake and the party was in my honor, they wanted to prepare food that I could eat.

Since there were so many presents, from a pool of about thirty people, I wasn’t able to take them all home with me on the bus.  It would have taken at least a week to take all of them.  We put them away in the storage room until I could move them after we come back from our wedding.  Luckily one young woman who had a pickup truck offered to take me home with my gifts, so I could take them all in one trip.

In March of 1985, Kris and I flew to Maryland for the week of our wedding.  It was a lot easier for us to travel east than it would be for all of my family to come west, especially since they were the ones to organize the wedding.  We chose this time of the year to get married for the beginning of the spring weather and when it was the easiest for Kris and I to take time off from work.  We allowed a few days before the event to spend time with family and to get over the jet lag.

The evening before our big day, the close family members had the rehearsal dinner at a fine restaurant.  They too had flown from Seattle for the wedding.  Their youngest son, Kris’ brother who was finishing up his senior year at the Air Force Academy, was able to attend to be the best man.  On March 22, 1985, Kris and I got married at the courthouse in Rockville, Maryland.  With our interfaith backgrounds, a non-religious ceremony worked the best.

I was dressed up in a lovely white party dress made of satin and chiffon, a white hat with a veil down to my shoulders, white pattern leather sandals, and a white leather shoulder purse.  My mother had purchased them for me since I trusted her taste.  Though the dress wasn’t a traditional wedding dress with its greater simplicity, it was very elegant.  I liked the idea that the dress was practical enough to wear at other parties rather than for just one time.  I felt very special wearing the outfit.  Kris wore a basic dark blue/black suit with a matching vest.  Kris put the wedding band of 18-carat gold on my finger that was from his maternal grandmother.

At the courthouse we had a small group of close family members that included my in-laws, parents, stepfather and his daughters, my siblings and nieces.  Even though Kris and I had gone with each other for almost a year and a half we were both very nervous, as we signed the papers, of the big change in our relationship that would affect the rest of our lives.  Both of us were still very confident we were making the right decision.  We wanted very much for our marriage to always remain stable.

The next day after I showed Kris and his folks around the museums in Washington, D.C. and we had a reception with a sit-down meal and a live band at the Holiday Inn Hotel.  On Saturday evening we had enough time for the New Yorkers to drive down, or take the train or go sightseeing.  We had dancing in which Kris and I participated a little bit.  About a hundred people attended, including Kris’ sister’s in-laws who just happened to have visited the area at that time.

Following our wedding and reception, Kris and I spent two nights at a motel that was only about a half of a mile away from my mother’s townhouse.  Besides, there wasn’t enough space for us to stay with my folks as other relatives, such as my brother and stepsisters, slept there.  In the mornings, we went on walks and back to my mother’s for breakfast and for the day.  We didn’t have enough time for a real honeymoon since we needed to get back to Seattle.

When we arrive at the Sea-Tac International Airport, Kris’ older brother who wasn’t able to attend our wedding picked us up.  When we arrived home and went upstairs to our bedroom there was a surprise waiting for us.  On our full-sized bed was a quilted bedspread that Kris’ sister-in-law had made.  Terry sneaked into our place to make our bed and placed a note on the bed that said, “Sweet Dreams Tonight”.  She had obtained our keys for the occasion.

We were able to bring all of our wedding gifts home since most of them were money that fitted nicely in an envelope, though we took the bulkier items in cardboard boxes.  We had received a few things, such as a salad bowl set, coffee maker, candy dish, and a honey bowl.  Even some of friends and relatives who weren’t able to attend had send gifts to us.

Thanks to the generosity of people, we had enough money to fix our place up with new furniture and more storage.  We had bought a new sofa with a hide-a-bed to replace the old one with a torn fabric in the front and a chest of drawers for my clothes.  In addition, my father-in-law had ordered kitchen cupboards and installed them in the bar area adjoining the kitchen and some upstairs in the bedroom and next to the bathroom for extra storage.  We hung one directly over my drawing table to store my art supplies.  The others were used for our bed linens and towels.  With two of us crammed in a one-bedroom unit, we needed them.

Shortly after we were home from our trip, I planned an open house to invite every one from my cafeteria to show appreciation for all the gifts I had received.  I also had Kris invite people from his office.  I made the invitations to be posted on the wall in our work places.  Only a few people had showed up, Dani and Martha from my food service contacts and two woman from Kris’ work at Social Security.  It was still a nice size gathering, given the small amount of space and limited parking.

It was nice for Dani and her mother to come over to see where we lived since they had never been to our place before.  After they had stayed for a little while, two friendly women from the Social Security Teleservice Center came for a short visit.  One of them had hit it off very well with me in certain common interests, such as nutrition and physical fitness.  Ina who was middle aged was into healthy eating and walking.  I was impressed since most of the fellow workers from the office ate the standard high-fat unhealthy American food and lead sedentary lives.  We talked about my lifestyle with my low-fat/ high fiber vegetarian diet and regular exercise program with walking and hiking.

It was just as well that we didn’t get too many people from my cafeteria since they probably would be disappointed with the food.  Even though I had good intentions, my homemade brown rice balls, potato salad, and coleslaw along with turkey and dressing wouldn’t measure up to what they tend to be used to–fast food.

A few weeks later in early May of 1985 when the weather was very nice in the Puget Sound area, friends of my in-laws hosted a wedding reception for us at their home to celebrate our marriage with friends and relatives who didn’t get a chance to go to our wedding.  It was there that I first met some of my in-laws, such Kris’ aunt (his father’s sister) with her husband and their son.  Chairs and tables with umbrellas were set up to eat out in the lovely backyard of their house in the north Kirkland area on the Eastside.  I was asked to invite a few friends and family.  Katie and Duane, and my brother came.  It was fun meeting friends and old-time neighbors that my in-laws had known for many years.

During the last week of May, Kris and I flew to Colorado Springs, Colorado to attend the graduation of Kris’ younger brother from the Air Force Academy.  Ivan (III) had earned a degree in astronautical engineering with aspirations of becoming an astronaut.  There were festivities with marching bands almost all week.  We had a family reunion of all of my immediate in-laws.  It was there that I first met some of them–Kris’ sister with her husband and two children (daughter and son).  It had been very seldom that Kris had gotten together with all of his siblings–a sister and two brothers–due to geographical reasons.

We all stayed in a motel, located in a small town of Monument, which was about twenty miles north of Colorado Springs.  Whenever we had some free time during the day, I went out for long walks to explore the area.  Some of the time Kris came with me if he didn’t need to rest.  In town we browsed a few gift and antique shops.  Sometimes we saw a few people who set up produce stands from their pickup trucks that added to the small town feel.

We also spent a few days sightseeing the area with relatives.  We toured historical sights in Mannitou Springs, such as Cliff Dwellings primitive homes and caves.  We visited a major national park, the Garden of the Gods.  I had brought along my camera and took pictures of flowers, natural scenery, and the marching cadets during the graduation ceremonies.  I hardly took any pictures of Kris and his side of the family.  Once during our trip I had someone shoot Kris and me.

When we came back home from our wedding, I began to eliminate jogging entirely from my physical fitness program.  I had heard reports that brisk walking is just as effective for the heart and physical conditioning as jogging or running without the increased jarring of the joints.  The constant pounding on the pavement and concrete could lead to a greater number of joint problems of the knee and shin splints.  Even though, I was fortunate enough not to develop such challenges, I wanted to prevent them.  Besides walking was much more comfortable, though it tends to burn fewer calories than running.  I was influenced when Bob, an avid runner for over fifteen years, messed up his knee.

Ever since I had moved to so close to downtown Seattle where there was a great concentration of commercial areas, I began to do my walking in Renton after work.  Even though Renton contained industrial areas, such as Boeing where my job was, it also had a wider spread of residential areas that were nicer for walking.  It was the flexibility of several bus routes that ran regularly throughout the day that made it possible for me to venture farther away without having to come back for the bus.

One of my favorite places to walk was the Gene Coulon Park on Lake Washington.  I enjoyed watching ducks and geese leading their chicks on both water and land, especially during spring when many of the births take place.  I went on the paved bike trail that ran from the swimming area to about two miles along the lake.

Some other afternoons I walked up the hill, on the main road by Boeing, to the Renton Highlands.  Sometimes I walked on a road that went along the lake to Kennydale (north Renton community) and some of the side streets.  I enjoyed the views of the water and going by nice homes.  It was also a good steady incline to provide a good workout in addition to the steep hill I went up from downtown Seattle.  Occasionally during late spring when the weather was very nice, I ventured miles further than usual, close to Lake Kathleen and a few smaller lakes and the Renton Vocational Institute. I felt very invigorated during and after a long walk.

Occasionally when I had some browsing and shopping in downtown Renton, I walked in the opposite direction over a mile from my cafeteria.  At the health food store, I had picked up some good deals from their bargain bins and the monthly complimentary magazines on nutrition with advertised specials.  I also liked to browse the antique shops through out the town.

One day as I was approaching Gene Coulon Park, a young woman from my cafeteria stopped to offer me a ride on her way home north of Kennydale.  Even though I didn’t need a ride especially since she didn’t go to Seattle, I took her offer so I could explore other neighborhoods close by which were too far to walk from Boeings.  I knew that wherever I ended up there would be a bus that I could take to Seattle.

Once a month I did the bulk of my grocery shopping at the Puget Consumers Co-op Kirkland store to take advantage of the monthly specials on the bulk foods and a few specialty items.  It was a straight shot going by bus from Renton Boeing along the state highway, #405, to Kirkland.  When I was done shopping, it was a straight shot home by bus to Seattle.  For my other shopping, such as toiletries, fresh produce, and fish, the neighborhood Thriftway Store and the Pike Place Market were good and saved me time.  The market was a forerunner in bringing the more exotic varieties of fruits and vegetables to the public.  I purchased about a dozen varieties of white fish along with salmon to try.

Since the mid eighties, I had joined the Well Mind Association (WMA) that promotes nutritional and other natural approaches for treatments of mental illness and other disorders.  This organization arose out of the dissatisfaction of how schizophrenia was treated excessively with drugs without getting to the root causes.  Even though autism is entirely different from mental illness, the basic premise of WMA of healing through the more natural means would be equally applicable for my condition.

I had attended several annual symposiums and monthly meetings.  I enjoyed very much the ten newsletters a year with the in depth scientific facts on the brain chemistry, metabolism, and pathology, the politics on food, supplement regulations, alternative medicine, and articles on nutrition.  I read about sensitivities and environmental toxicity.  It was helpful to be informed of the latest research in those areas to learn what foods and chemicals to avoid and what changes I needed to make to improve my health and mental outlook.

One of the things that had a major influence upon me was the research on the Candida Albicans yeast infestation in the body.  It appeared to be a common occurrence and implicated in weakened immune systems that led to greater sensitivities to food and the environment.  Perhaps, this could be the root cause of my reactions to things that could be manifested in autism.  I also identified with some of the symptoms of the yeast overgrowth–mild depression, low energy levels, and lapses of brain function, food sensitivities, and digestive problems.  Even though I had already improved my diet I felt that I needed to do more.

I attended a few special monthly meetings with potluck dinners for people with food allergies or sensitivities.  We met at the home of a nutritionist, a member of WMA, who had food and chemical sensitivities herself.  Sally Rockwell had her monthly newsletter, Allergy Alert, inserted with the WMA publication for a while until it wasn’t permitted for the combined mailing.

During the fall of 1984, I purchased a small cookbook, Coping with Candida by Sally Rockwell, with the basics of the anti-yeast diet and recipes that are compatible with the plan.  It was available at the monthly support meetings.  I wanted a basic guidebook to refer to as I tried to follow the diet.  Besides, I enjoyed trying out some interesting recipes such as wheat-free crackers made of ground flax seed and a nut loaf. 

By end of November of 1984, with only several months before my wedding, I began the anti-Candida diet with hopes of starting my married life as a healthier person.  I eliminated all foods based on yeasts and molds–breads, cheeses, and vinegar and reduced consumption of carbohydrates–grains, fruits, and sugar.  It was challenging to stay on it, since the “caveman diet”, with large amounts of meat and nuts, had never suited me well.  Nevertheless, being in food service I needed a great deal of willpower to resist the forbidden food where my remaining choices became even more limiting–potatoes, vegetables, and V-8 vegetable juice.  I did cheat whenever I went to parties and had product samples in stores.

After being on the regimen for more than ten days I began to feel better.  I avoided the high carbohydrate foods that I often binged on.  I felt that I exerted greater control of myself by eating less.  By the end of February of 1985 when I had been on the diet for three months, I had lost over twenty pounds and became slim.  I was at my most ideal weight by my wedding in March.

After being on the program for three months I began to realize that I wasn’t making any overall progress in well being.  By the middle of winter I had increased fatigue and was drained of energy when I came home from work.  Sometimes I had muscular weaknesses and felt somewhat fluish and didn’t feel well enough to go to work.  This might have resulted from ketosis from not consuming enough carbohydrates.  It took me a few months to analyze how it worked for me and occurred to me that I wasn’t getting enough variety of food for good nutrition.  The better approach was to add back the wholesome foods such as fresh fruits and whole grains as long as I consumed them in moderation and avoid what I had been sensitive to–nuts, peanuts, coconut, dairy products, mustard, and corn.  I felt return of my strength and energy levels when I went off the diet that was too restrictive for my nutritional needs.  Though the “caveman” plan didn’t work well, despite my weight loss to a more ideal level, I had learned something valuable.

I tended to go off my diet at parties and ate anything I wanted.  Sometimes I paid for it by reacting to some of the things I had eaten with stomachaches and flatulence.  My stink bomb often got so bad as to infiltrate the entire area and I wasn’t pleasant to be around.  It tended to be worse when I was away all weekend on retreats with unlimited food where I ate non-stop and became more prone to diarrhea.  At least I did not have bulimia, but I tended to get sick with intestinal upsets and the runs when I ate all weekend.  Less obvious, I also tended to get low energy levels with brain fog and inability to concentrate effectively on mental tasks.   I tended to become less responsive and more withdrawn as my attention span waned, which made me appear more autistic.

I always need to be watchful of the amount of greasy foods I eat, since they tend to be difficult for me to digest.  Whenever I eat too much fatty foods, I get anywhere from indigestion and nausea to vomiting depending how much I eat.  There were a few instances where I throw up several hours after loading up on greasy food.  During these times, I attributed this to the food or just getting sick.  It was not until many years later that I made the connection between excessive consumption of fats and vomiting.  For example, when I was twelve I vomited a few times about six to nine hours after eating lots of popcorn with excessive amounts of butter in it.  I felt better afterwards.  When I was fourteen after consuming a huge portion of mussels dunk in lots of melted butter, I threw up within several hours.  It the time I blamed the mussels and food poisoning.  Looking back further into my childhood and my penchant for deep fried and greasy foods, I vomited much more frequently, though I did not made connections to specific instances.  Much more frequently, I tend to get indigestion and nausea from eating too much, such as eating a whole plate of fried potatoes for example.  I do not vomit from excessive carbohydrates and protein, just diarrhea.  I tended to load up most on carbohydrates.

Gradually throughout the spring and summer of 1985 my weight crept back since going off the caveman diet.  I often had felt like a failure by a lack of control over bingeing, especially during the periods of the month corresponding to my menstrual cycle.  Occasionally, I stayed on my diet well without snacking in between meals or eating extra portions until a few days at a time when I would be back to having large snacks between large meals.  Since my stomach had been used to taking in large quantities of food, extreme pangs of hunger developed with strong food cravings by the second or third day of being on much stricter control.

Whenever I did some food preparation at home it was very difficult to refrain from constant nibbling–especially while slicing or cubing bread or working with cookie dough.  I bought day-old loaves of bakery bread for Kris’ sandwiches from bakeries.  Since most of these loafs were unsliced I needed to slice them by hand which of course increased the temptation of eating a half of loaf.

To reduce the temptation of eating while making cookies, I bought packaged ones from the General Nutrition Centers.  Though I didn’t nibble as much as I would when I whipped up the cookie batter, I still had a hard time resisting the store bought varieties, especially since they were made with more wholesome ingredients.  As I opened the package to lay the cookies out I made an excuse to eat them.

I always felt better as I ate since apparently I had food addictions comparable to drug additions which lead to substance abuse.  Like people who took drugs to ease anxiety and depression, I turned to food to relieve those emotional states.  Whenever I missed my regular snack I experienced withdrawal symptoms, extreme hunger pangs, high level of anxiety, and increased fatigue.

Back since my college days whenever there were art show receptions and potlucks were food seemed limitless, I stuffed myself like crazy as though there wouldn’t be anymore to eat after the party.  This was even more inappropriate at receptions where each person generally took no more that a handful of food, especially with limited amount of refreshments.  For example, as I hovered over the snack table I gulped down about equivalent of a whole box of crackers, five ounces of cheese, and a whole pound of vegetables with dip.  It didn’t occur to me that there might not be enough to go around.

I tended to be even more out of control at potlucks where there were much more variety of dishes.  I was compulsive about trying everything that added up to about as much as two heaping platefuls.  I ate so much at each party that it was noticeable.  For example, while I attended Northern Virginia Community College when I was at the end-of-the-quarter potluck with the printmaking department, an older man who brought a seafood dish saw me going back to more and more of his casserole and asked me to stop taking so much.  I was so full and bloated that my stomach was about to burst open and wasn’t able to eat anything until the next morning.  Since I lacked confidence to socialize well I devoted less attention to other people and more to food.

I was so addicted to food that even when my stomach was very full, I could not bring myself to stop eating.  The pleasure from eating and tasting the food was very intense.  This overrode my discomfort from my bloated stomach.

There were a few occasions at exhibits, openings at art galleries and community celebrations at organizations when politely asked to refrain from over eating and that I needed to leave food left for others.  I always stopped, apologized, and walked out.  Though I lacked self-control most of the time with food, I quickly gained control once someone spoke up to me.  I didn’t want to cause trouble by not obeying.  The fear was much stronger than the desire to eat more.

At family gatherings with my in-laws for the holidays where I was expected to show my best behavior I still wasn’t able to control my excessive nibbling of the hor d’oerves.  I thought that I acted normally and was doing what everyone else was–eating.  I found out later, after a few get-togethers with the extended family, from my mother-in-law that a relative informed her of my constant nibbling and was concerned that I wasn’t leaving enough food for others.  I was surprised that anyone would notice since all the people appeared to be enjoying themselves.  Due to autism I failed to observe how others served themselves and didn’t fixate on the food.

Occasionally for Thanksgiving, we had a large family gathering with my in-laws, including Kris’ older brother, Eric and his family, and Eric’s in-laws.  It was fun being with Terry’s side of the family–parents, sister and husband with three children, and a brother and wife with a daughter.  Like my family, they came from highly educated backgrounds.  Terry’s father had invented a few things.  The most successful that was a mat cutter with a measuring device.  Terry’s sister and family gave Kris and me rides to the party except when it was at their place.