Sex, Pain, Madness and One Lucky Duck

Warning: This post is really long, and gets really personal, with lots of curse words, and is all very self-serving. But kind of entertaining, hopefully? 

I just finished reading a book – yes, I’ve been reading lately. It was by the British chef Marco Pierre White, “Devil in the Kitchen – Sex, Pain, Madness and the Making of a Great Chef”. It’s a good title… because who doesn’t want to read about sex? From a hot chef? And pain and madness? Well yes, that too. It’s inspiring to read about people who know what they want and go through a lot to get it. But pain and madness? Is that what it really takes to achieve greatness? Does everyone have to toil tirelessly, sacrifice health, get hurt, worn down, and knocked down over and over, feel pain, and teeter on the edge of madness? If so… I’m SO on the right track! YAY!

I’m being convinced, however, that maybe I can step away from that edge and still get where I’m going, and probably much faster. After all, I’m supposed to represent the brand – One Lucky Duck and Pure Food and Wine, we’re all about raw food and feeling great. When I first went raw the contrast was amazing. So much of the time I felt like I could do anything – life was a dance party. As I pointed out in Raw Food Real World, it can feel a bit like being on ecstasy – maybe not quite, but still it’s amazing. It’s been four years now - did I get used to it and/or is it stress and pressure that just put a damper on it all? I want the dance party back!

Some things are tempting, like coffee. A whole page in Raw Food Real World about how bad it is for you, and here I go tinkering with it again. I wrote an article on this for the next issue of Get Fresh magazine – on my little relapses with coffee and ultimate conclusions (that yes, it’s gross and not good). Stress makes it tempting to look for things to lean on. Right now I’m on a bit of a raw cocoa kick. I can’t do green tea. I drink it and then feel like I may puke. I didn’t make the connection at first, and started to get paranoid. I’d convinced myself it was morning sickness and that I must have had a bun in the oven (which would conveniently also rationalize weight gain), except that sex with someone would have been a prerequisite to that scenario so, at the time, that theory didn’t work out. It was just the green tea making me nauseous and nothing to blame for the excess luggage other than my unfavorable ratio of calories consumed to calories burned. Oh well.

I’ve been trying a lot of things to keep myself in “shape” physically and mentally, so I don’t give in to madness and can get to the greatness part without falling apart.

Personal trainer. Out of the blue, I got an e-mail from someone opening a new private gym nearby offering me a month of free personal training. Three days a week. This sort of scheduled time commitment made me entirely nervous, but it was too good to pass up. So it sucked up a lot of time in my days – it’s not just the hour that you’re there, it’s the getting dressed in gym clothes, getting over there, then dealing with the showering and hair drying and all of that afterwards. This guy was good though, really good. And working out in a private space is nice. (Edward Rush at thirdpower-fitness.com). He made each session worth it and I liked the pain. Yes, the pain. After the first session, I had to hold the railing and limp down the stairs to 22nd street. It didn’t always hurt so much, but I liked it when it did – made it all feel worthwhile - like I’d expelled some demons in the process. Or just unleashed some anger in a healthy way? Emotional detoxing? He said he was surprised at how tough I was… that he could push me so hard and I’d never wimp out. OH yeah. You can’t break me when I’ve got this much angst. I want to feel like Richard Gere in that scene from An Officer and a Gentleman, where he’s doing push-ups in the rain while being verbally flogged by Louis Gosset Jr.  Lots of pent up stuff here that needs to get out.

Well, that was all great, but then my sessions ran out and I’d gotten anxious about all that time away from work anyway. Of course, I did feel so much better and was in much better shape. Around the same time, seemingly out of nowhere I read something about a process called EFT. “Emotional Freedom Technique”. Hmmmm… sounded really corny, yet intriguing. It required that I download some big document to read and of course, no time for that, so I dropped it. A few days later, I had a business meeting with a random potential collaborator, and out of the blue, he mentions EFT. I told him I’d just read about it, and he gave me a referral. Our business relationship never went anywhere, aside from one additional odd meeting during which he suggested for me a daily ritual of saying to myself strange mantras in an unknown language, and then he asked me if I would be his friend. Um, what? You’re older than my dad, and what for? But I think it was really all meant to be, just for the EFT referral. I never saw that guy again, but I went to a session with Annie Siegel (roadtoemotionalfreedom.com) on Park Avenue.

I had no idea what to expect, but when you’re on that quest to feel better, you get pretty open minded. To summarize, the session includes lots of tapping on yourself, which feels kind of silly at first – really silly - but you just go with it, especially when you find yourself uncontrollably crying at the same time. Where did that come from?  I have to say, EFT (especially with Annie) is the bad-ass shit. You start talking about stuff, having no idea where you’re going, and end up walking out feeling like you ‘resolved’ some issue that you’ve spent years on your therapist’s couch talking about. Could it really be that easy? I stayed with Annie for months and I’m convinced it got me through quite a bit. And I grew from it, and dumped a lot of baggage. Then I was feeling so much better, so I stopped going. After a hiatus from that (during which I since tried some more fun stuff) I’m now going back for more.

Acupuncture: I love it. But I don’t know. Hard to tell on this one. That’s what I like about EFT, instant gratification therapy. Unless you have a specific physical ailment, acupuncture is meant to be more subtle, I think. At least in its effects. Getting stuck up with needles isn’t too subtle. It hurts when they go in (more pain!), and then it sucks hard when you get an itch and are terrified you’ll give yourself multiple stab wounds if you try to scratch the itch. But it also can feel really good, and sometimes as soon as she leaves the room, I have an almost psychedelic out-of-body spinning sensation, which is pretty cool. And I get really energized about life. Other times, it’s like a release, and I lie there crying about nothing specifically. It’s sort of like drainage. Either way, I usually leave feeling a bit like I’m floating. Then again, when I get my hair washed with a really good head massage and then a blow dry, don’t I walk out of the salon feeling really relaxed? And with bouncy salon hair? So maybe I’m too impatient for acupuncture. But I miss it.

I also tried some Chinese herbs from the acupuncturist. She told me they would make me feel better. I want to feel better! I’ll try them! The following week, I pay about $60 for a big bag of stinky tree bark and other weird forest floor debris. I boil it in a pot on my (rarely used) stove and make my whole apartment stink. That murky brown tea is some rank shit. She says I shouldn’t add anything to it and if I must have a chaser, I could have a bit of honey or maybe “a raisin”. A raisin?? For real, just one? I disobey and squeeze a whole bunch of lemon into the tea, and yet still feel like I need my own personal cheering crew of frat boys pounding on a bar to get me to swill it. However, I managed to keep this up twice a day for about four days, until just the thought of my daily “tea” would inspire the flowing of those pre-hurling saliva juices in the back of my mouth. I have to say, I slept really well while drinking the skanky mud tea. But at the same time, I couldn’t quite get a handle on what else it was supposed to be doing for me. Aligning my “chi”? Balancing my “chakras”? I still don’t know what those are. What does that feel like anyway? Again, I’m too impatient.

More fun from the same office: little gold beads pressed and stuck all in my earlobes. Sure… why not? Let’s do that too! That was also supposed to be “balancing”. They hurt a little bit (yes, more pain) but they looked like cool jewelry and were fun to touch and play with until they finally fell out after a few days. I couldn’t tell if I felt more balanced. If they were supposed to be balancing, why would they only go in my left ear? I don’t get it.

Anyway, I will go back for more needling at some point, and I highly recommend the woman who does it. She also “does” a bunch of my restaurant staff, so she’s quickly becoming the resident Pure Food and Wine acupuncturist and Chinese herbalist. Erica Siegel. If anyone wants to go, mail me through AskSarma and I’ll forward the number.

While I’m at it pimping all my “therapists”… I don’t do the colonics thing too often but when I do, I go to Kat Uzyoni. She gives good colonic. And she’s just super cool about the whole thing. And she used to work in the pastry dept of Pure Food and Wine. Not at the same time, mind you. But Kat gives you a really nice foot rub while you’re lying there under a big blanket with a tube in your butt. And she has a sense of humor about the whole thing. Which I think is necessary, no? She once commented on the consistency of my output, saying I was like “a little rabbit” and then started laughing. Good stuff. She’s cool.

I know I should do yoga. I know I know, I know. But I get intimidated. Like, I’m not in the club. I’m not flexible enough. I don’t fold like a book at the waist. I get embarrassed breathing really loudly. And I get annoyed when I hear other people doing so. I want to snicker and laugh. One time I got stuck in a class where we had to partner up with someone for part of the time. Terrified of the hairy man in shorts to my right, I whipped around to my left and ended up with a… hairy woman in shorts. She had prickly dark black hair all over her meaty thighs. As if getting in compromising skin-to-skin positions with her was not awkward enough, later in the class I pushed myself up into cobra pose and one of my boobs popped out of my tank top. See, I don’t even have the right properly fitting yoga clothes. It’s not meant to be.

Allrighty, life is fascinatingly weird sometimes: I just finished writing that last paragraph as I’m sitting here on an Amtrak train back to NY from Boston (where I spent a mere three hours, a quick “day” business trip). So yeah, we’re just pulling out of the Stamford, CT station, and I pause just now to look out the window. This lady is standing on the platform with her legs apart, arms up high and stretching to one side. That’s weird… she’s by herself, but in front of all these other people waiting for the train, and she’s doing yoga-like poses on the platform. How random that I was just writing all of this yoga stuff. Then we pass a guy a few yards down who is stretching his hamstrings, and then another, and then, I am dead serious, another, and then a girl sitting on the ground bending all the way forward (in that book way, that I’m not capable of). That was really odd… like a dream. I watched it all, saw them all one after the other as the train pulled away. Yes, that was weird. They weren’t all together either, just all spread out on the platform among everyone else. Was there some yoga conference in Stamford that I missed?

Now, back to my cynical ways, I find myself thinking they’re probably all of the sort that regularly sign off their e-mails with “Namaste”. Namaste? Namas-what? WTF? Do you really just assume everyone knows what that means? What if I signed off all my emails and conversations with “Ar labu dien!” which means, Good Day, in Latvian. Well that would be just weird, I guess because, what’s the point. People who say “Namaste” are trying to make a statement I think. “I’m a yoga head and exist on a higher plane of consciousness and therefore I am at least somewhat superior and I’m letting you know this.” That’s what I hear/read. Oh dear!  I’m sorry to all the truly lovely people I know who do this and mean only to spread more loveliness around. Yes, I’m just being cynical. Bitter?  Am I being judgemental? Because I feel judged myself? I think I just need to find the Pure Food and Wine of yoga classes. We don’t take ourselves too seriously or make any presumptions. We just put out really good food that happens to undeniably make people feel pretty good too.

Back to Marco’s book. Sex in the title… it’s there to sell books, of course. Marco, you’re hot. We really wanted more sex stories. If I write a book, I’ll put more sex in it. If only I could work more sex into the next cookbook. Not really fitting. But. Hmmm. Maybe I’ll talk to the publisher. 

I know of an amazing ‘psychic’ that I’ve called twice and been blown away by both times. Towards the end of our most recent conversation, still struggling for answers, I said something to the effect that I feel so desperate sometimes because I know exactly what I want to do, I just don’t know exactly what to do to get there. I don’t know what to do.   I can see the whole company and business and how it all works, how it will cross-promote, and just how big it will be… I have the whole vision and it’s bigger than anyone knows, and it makes sense, and I will do it. I’ve been carrying around a power point org chart in my bag for over a year now - for a reason. As I told Amazing Psychic Lady though, I just feel stuck. I don’t have the resources and feel like I’m plodding along not knowing how to get there. Because I’m so busy all the time, I can barely breathe. It’s like I can see the big beach party going on at the most beautiful tropical island not very far away, but I can’t see how I’m going to get there because I’m in a boat full of little holes and every time I patch one to keep from drowning, I find another, and so on and so on. Or, like this one interesting older dude once remarked, after listening to me talk about my business… “It’s like you’re standing there holding onto a Ferrari with a fishing pole!” Well, thank you, I thought. It is truly lovely to feel so perfectly understood in some ways. But I also felt like, OKAY, well then are you going to just stand there amused and watch me? Because you got it soooo right on… that is exactly how I feel. And MY ARMS ARE FUCKING TIRED!

Yes, I know. Write up a good business plan, and getting an investor will be easy. There is more demand than we can possibly supply, and overwhelming interest. What’s my problem? They’re great problems to have, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating. On top of my investment banking adventures, I used to work for one of the biggest private equity firms in the country, so this should be easy, no? I used to build gigantic merger models in excel, with complicated formulas and ten zillion different scenarios (all on no sleep). As many people like to point out, this should be easy for me. I know. FUCK OFF. Really. FUCK the fuck off. Don’t you get it? I can’t let go of the fucking fishing pole, so that I can sit down and put together a neat and tidy power-point plan. Besides, things are a bit more complicated than that.

Back to Amazing Psychic Lady. Now… I’m just open to stuff these days, and I like input from no matter where. What she says is not so much telling me the future – it’s more like she’s opening my eyes and showing me how to look at things differently. And it’s comforting. What could be more comforting than feeling like someone understands you completely without having to say anything? Anyway… so, I’m going on about how I still feel confused – what do I do? Because of course I want some easy answer. A solution. What does she tell me? That everything will work out. Knowing very little about the details of what I’m doing, she says… look at Martha Stewart. While she is doing her live show on TV, do you think the rest of her company is standing still? No. People are taking care of stuff, things are moving forward. Listen to your heart and do what feels right. Wake up each morning, and no matter what it is, do what you feel will bring you the most joy that day. It sounded nice. And I liked that she compared me to Martha, because I do it in my own head all the time, I just don’t talk about it. Anyway.

So. What will give me the most joy? I don’t know… eating a whole bag of Doritos with cottage cheese sounds pretty good right about now.

Still on the train, I slept for maybe one hour last night. I have that pasty tired feeling you get when massively sleep deprived. Amtrak probably dehydrates you too, like flying. I feel like my eyeballs are wrapped in saran wrap and my cheeks are heavy, pulling my whole face towards the ground. Like I desperately want to dive into a pool, or the ocean. I’ll settle for a cool shower and my bed.

SO… if I’m not meant to ever have negative thoughts… if I complain, dwell on feeling panicked, alone, in debt, all those things… then I perpetuate those things right? So most of the time I’m really good at doing the positive spin thin. I work hard at it. I smile even when I feel shitty inside. I put up a good front, not just for the world, for myself too.. But sometimes I really just want to whine… and give in, and cry and kick and scream and yell at all the people who haven’t been there for me, or who’ve teased me into thinking they would. I fell for it, so it was my fault, but still. So wait, I had a point. Or a question. I resist telling people the real dirt… if a friend asks how I’m doing, I have to say “great”! Some things are great. Other things are pretty scary. Or uncertain.  Which is okay. But when you’ve got pressure from all sorts of angles, questions, things that put you on the defensive all the time… I don’t have the answers. I don’t KNOW. I know where I want to go, I see it all very clearly, I just don’t know or see yet how to get there, or who to trust. So if I tell someone what’s really going on… if I write about it here, (which I’m not going to do, at least not yet) - but if I expose stuff… am I being “real”? Or is it an entirely self-serving cry for help? Am I hoping someone will read it and be able to sense what’s really going on and be my angel investor, not take advantage of me, not expect that I quite have all my shit together, not expect more from me than what one human being can produce under reasonable circumstances with no resources? That someone will actually follow through?

But am I now just a girl crying? Somehow in the back of my brain thinking that if I cry (and try to look pretty doing it… ) someone will come rescue me from all my problems and help me build my business? What if I scream? Have a tantrum? Check myself into a hospital like Mariah Carey? She had a major “come-back” after that, no? Shave my head? Because really, when Britney Spears did that, and then there were those photos of her attacking a photographer’s car with an umbrella, silly as it seemed, I felt so badly for her I wanted to cry (yes, more crying). She’s a pop-star with lots of money, but that’s not what she needs - money.  (I do!). I don’t know what it is she needs. A break from it all, I guess.  For people to leave her alone and stop judging her. But she wasn’t getting that. Instead, people around her probably weren’t “getting it” at all, and the whole thing felt tragic. Like people were expecting too much of her, not listening to her, and so she finally lost it. And essentially by shaving her head like that, she was telling everyone to fuck off, and asking for help at the same time.

I want to shave my head too.

Anyway.

Anyhoo. I don’t throw tantrums. I never did. I don’t cry in front of other people if I can help it. I never once did it in my investment banking adventure days at Bear, Stearns. That legendary hardcore environment of all those “Wall Street” stories was the reality there for a couple of years… of how hard they worked analysts. My own stories trumped those. I could stay up for days (literally) and still make my balance sheet balance and get shit done, better than most of the guys. You prove yourself, you’re good, and what happens? You get more work piled on you because everyone expects you can handle it because you seem to be handling it so well. All in uncomfortable high heels, constrictive pantyhose (what a terrible word!), and business suits which seemed to get tighter as the days turned into nights. The skirt that felt okay when you put it on, zipped up and buttoned nicely, now feels like a bungee cord (sp?) wrapped around your waist.

Yeah, so I got used to this whole life, but occasionally I’d go hide in the stairwell of that tall office building in which I spent so much quality time, and cry my eyes out. No one ever saw me. Then I’d dry my face and go back for more.

Meanwhile, some fuck-wad Managing Director or other, usually prematurely balding as they all were, would do something like… tell me about how his wife and kids are all in the Hamptons and would I, you know, like to spend some time with him outside the office. Wink wink. WHAT? I’m standing here in your office looking at a smartly framed picture of your newborn baby on your desk. Eiw!!! I should call your wife and tell her what a troll she’s married to. Of course, I won’t. I’ll just smile, pretend to in fact be remotely interested, and try to get out of this gracefully. Of course, you can’t bruise anyone’s ego. Not smart.

Needless to say, I have more stories of that nature, with more detail, some of which I am not at all proud of (and will readily admit to), and some over which I could have more than legitimately sued the firm and made off with lots of money, so as never to have to put up with any long hours or other crap ever again, but I would never have done that. I was there for a reason and that was not it. People seemed to trust me, as they should have. But a lot of them didn’t deserve it. Still, I’ll change names when I do tell those stories.

Things all have a way of working out in an interesting way. Back to the crying thing. Jill Barad the former CEO of Mattel cried once on an earnings call. I remember hearing about that. She was not CEO for much longer. There you go.

Yes. So… there you go. I get lots of e-mail. Some people think I must have a “fabulous” life. Well, in many ways I do. I love it. I still love what I do. I’m on a mission and it’s great. I’m extraordinarily lucky. I know what I’m going to do for the rest of my life. I’m surrounded by and work with amazing people every day, so many of whom I truly love and am so grateful for, it’s humbling. And now am even in love. That’s the best part. But what people imagine about me when they read about the restaurant, the brand and website, the book, etc. etc.  I guess sometimes I forget about what they must see from the outside. Because for sure it’s not all as it apparently seems to be. For whatever reason, we get a lot of press attention from Japan in particular. They often ask me about my “beauty” regimen. Where I do yoga? What “spa” do I go to and where do I get facials? What designers are in my closet? Um… designers? I bought a pair of Prada heels in 1999, and they’re still in my closet, does that count? What am I supposed to say? I haven’t had a facial in ten years.

Just the other day, I was procrastinating from more urgent things and trolling through my “Ask Sarma” e-mails… haha. Ask Sarma. If only they knew. But anyway… this one girl/woman (no idea how old she is) writes, “Your life is my dream life!” And so I’m thinking, these people would all probably choke on their flaxcrackers if they knew that not only am I walking around often feeling entirely spent, weary and even on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but that I’m also carrying a few hundred thousand dollars of personal debt from all kinds of sources, that I’m currently being (legitimately) sued by a big bank for over $400,000 on top of that (for something that was not my fault but for which I have no defense, so am just trying to buy some time), that I’m full of burning rage to build this empire, I’m running a company (or companies) that is (are) always running out of resources, and all of that with a residual and occasionally reappearing destructive closet eating disorder. Of all things.  Yeah. There you go. Fabulous!

Earlier on the phone, out of the blue, my father asks me… “So, where do you see yourself in five years?” What? Are you Larry King? Or maybe just trying to get a current assessment on the bleak prospect of any grandkids from this particular one of your offspring? And maybe because we talk so infrequently there’s just not enough time for the small talk lead-in. Okay. Well I didn’t really answer his question. He knows I’m not the typical 35 year old female listening to my biological clock tick louder and louder as I search for an appropriate husband. Um, yeah, not me. But it made me think about where I was five years ago, which was a pretty scary place. More on that one day. Or, even just two years ago. Drama in the gossip pages. It was good press for the restaurant. And seriously embarrassing, but also vainly glamorous at the same time. No matter what, no one could honestly claim it’s not flattering to be written about in gossip pages. It was a crazy and confusing time. Terrified of so many things on the one hand, feeling enlightened and free on the other, relieved, panicked, paranoid, exhausted. And surrounded by a bunch of people protecting me. I lost a lot of weight. Maybe I can finally tie all this wordiness neatly back into raw food! Um, no. Raw food or any food, having lots of people paying attention to your needs all at once makes you not so hungry. But then they start to drift away and gradually that non-physical hunger comes back. I think that’s what happened. The panic had faded. Anger set in. I’ve been working on letting it go ever since.

Do I really post all this? Why do I want to so badly? Why is it that every time I sit down to work on cookbook-two text (if anyone has any brilliant title suggestions, other than “Raw Food Real World-Two”, send them my way), I start writing stuff like this whole thing? It’s like I can’t help it. If I write anything else, I feel like a phony. It’s like I need to get this out of my system first. But really, I should be focusing on work, not whining into my laptop. To address my father’s question, I know exactly where I want to be in five years. Like I said, I’m just trying to figure out how to get there. Reading stuff like Marco Pierre White’s book helps. Pain and madness, all part of the fun.

I wrote an E-mail to myself over a year and a half ago. And I think I’m going to copy it in here (the search function in g-mail is brilliant, by the way). And contradict myself since I think I wrote I wasn’t going to spill my guts. But I can’t help it if I have leaky gut syndrome. Anyway. I was wide awake and really mad and had no outlet.  I don’t keep a written journal, so I typed to myself. I think I had a feeling I might want to be able to look back at it at some point. Either way, writing about stuff makes you feel better. So all this writing… is really for me. For now. A sort of cleansing that doesn’t involve drinking anything weird or putting anything weird in any other orifices, as I’ve tried that, and lived to write about it. Anyway. I have my cats now. I even have a personal assistant. Some things have changed, and a lot still goes on. Still. I want to yell, like Mischa Barton in that episode of the second seasons of The O.C. when she throws the lawn chair into the pool. But I don’t have a pool or any lawn chairs to throw in it. Or, much better, I want to fight James Gandolfini like Patricia Arquette in my favorite scene in my second favorite movie, True Romance.  That’s my favorite movie scene of all time.

I don’t want to shave my head. I like getting my hair blown dry too much.  What to do?

January 12, 2006, 1:18AM

I am so cranky!  Here's why:  I work way too much, I have no personal time, no personal life, no personal support.  I have colossal amounts of debt, and it's humiliating, draining, at interest rates up to 30%.  (Is that not illegal?) I don't exercise, I feel like shit.  I have so much to do, that I can't even remotely get to a fraction of it, yet it is ALL critically important.  Things that make it hard to sleep at night.  Insurance, bills, employee issues piling up, everyone needing something from me, being on the verge of running out of cash at the restaurant, trademark issues, mortgage burdens, legal bills, are among the many, which are further among a morass of other, lesser, yet also important for forward movement, issues that I think about yet do not address.  How's that for a choppy, run-on sentence. And TAXES!!!  Further, I am vulnerable, to so many people.  I do not have the independence or resources to be able to tell anyone to fuck off if and when it’s deserved.  Add on to that the pressure of knowing that every day, all day long, I offend and insult family, friends, helpful associates and loyal employees because I do not call them back or return their efforts to reach out to me, b/c I just can't get to it. People might think I am rude, ungrateful, selfish, self-absorbed, unreliable... and I HATE that.  I do not answer Ask Sarma e-mails.  I do not reply to compliments, inquiries, press or otherwise, questions, customers, vendors, etc.  EVERYone says I need to take time off.  Does not ANYone understand that this is IMPOSSIBLE.  I am cranky because I am accountable to pay for some fuckwad to live in a huge and beautiful sunny place, that I do not want to live in myself because, hello!? I can’t afford it! Yet I still have to pay for it, for HIM, and at the same time, live in a closet about 1/6 the size with walls and ceilings closing in on me.  I miss my cats. He has a washer and dryer at my expense.  I have NO clean socks and dirty crumpled clothes everywhere that I do not have time to deal with.  Instead, it looks like some scary drug lords ransacked my place for drug money.  With dust balls floating around. And business contact cards and important notes, papers, receipts all mixed in to the mess.  So I wake up, frantic and sterssed, jaw aching from grinding my teeth, and have to get myself dressed and out the door in this chaos, and I have nothing to wear that makes me feel good about myself, and even if I did, I wouldn't be able to find it.  AND I get sweaty in the process because it's so fucking hot in here, in the middle of the fucking winter.  If I stomp around too loud, the alcoholic crazy lady from downstairs comes up in her pajamas (no matter what time of day it is), knocks on my door, and complains to me in a really NOT nice way, through her wine-stained rotted teeth.  Fuck you, you rancid, rusty old cunt.  AND, at least 50% of the time, I have a messy guy roommate and bedmate in this closet who I do NOT want to sleep with, who I feel drained by, crowded by, pressured by, prodded by, and judged by, such that I want to put my head through a wall, even though at the same time he helps me so  much with my business and everything else, and I need it badly, and I’ve known him for fifteen years, and he comforts me too, protects me, and like no one else these days, I can trust him, and love him like a brother, so my options are limited. And then I only end up mistreating him and then feeling shitty.  Therefore, to get away I spend many of those nights going to my old subletter's apartment, where I wake up and have to put on the same dirty clothes, underwear and socks included, as the day prior, and then end up going straight to my office, which is an office version disaster of my apartment chaos.  I haul my bag, computer, paperwork, etc. in a messy, overstuffed bag from apartment to office to restaurant to sublet apartment and back and forth all day, and never seem to have what I need.  I am frustrated because my cellphone never works properly and I get tangled in the cords, chargers, earphones of all the various technology on which I depend, and haul, from place to place.
I am frustrated because I need HELP.  I am frustrated because I KNOW that all these people around me are going to make money off of me, my ideas, my concept, all the work i've put into all of this and yet I have no day-to-day support and am supposed to be proactive and put this colossal, weighty, scary deal together myself, and I worry about allowing myself to get ass-raped in the process.  OK, I do have lawyers looking out for me, and am really lucky for their help, but at the same time feel like a humiliated freeloading piece of shit b/c I don't pay them.  And of course, I have to put up with their (hopefully only good natured) flirtatiousness. Still, WHY do none of these people look at me and my business and think, YOU are and ASSET, a valuable one, and we can't afford to have you wasting your time and making yourself crazy - we need to take care of you, put you in a comfortable environment, surround you with support and resources, fucking GROOM you so you don't feel like shit and don't look like a worn out, spent woman-on-the-verge-of-a-nervous breakdown that you currently are, with poofy bags under your eyes and shoddily self-plucked eyebrows over them.  We need to send you Park Avenu to a office to have your sunspots lasered away.  We need to take care of you, make your life easier and more comfortable, so you can be maximally productive, and look as good as you are so pressured to look, so we can extract the most value from you.  We all need to stop hitting on you, confusing you, fucking with your self-esteem, flattering you on the one hand, making you feel really BAD and confused on the other, and in the awkward position of needing to stroke our egos because you need us so much.  An emotionally confused, insecure, unhappy, overwhelmed, financially burdened, thoroughly frustrated, fully ungroomed, out of shape, exhausted, stressed out Sarma does not = maximum value for our investment.

To be continued.
Sarma

Comments

[Jane]

So comforting to know others feel like this too (of no comfort to you, I know). Thank you for your searing honesty: it is so refreshing. I hope you find a heaven-sent investor and someone to inspire you treat yourself like the most precious treasure that you are. Blessings. Jane

[melissa-victoria]

You are courageous, Sarma. And I would argue that your life is still fabulous... I hope you do get some time for yourself though. :) And I do hate it when people write namaste. Geez.

[Carrie]

I'm sorry that you are having such a rough time. I hope that you can get the rest that you deserve and be able to breathe without feeling like the world is closing in on you. You are wonderful and an inspiration to so many people including myself. A lot of people do appreciate you even if you don't see it right away in the mist of the fog. I'm pretty almost sure that you will be fine.
I wish you lots of hugs and light.
Carrie

[Dunce]

Off-topic, blatantly inflammatory, or otherwise inappropriate or vapid comments may be removed. Repeat offenders will be banned from commenting. Let's add value. Thank you.

[Penni]

Besides having an inclination to kick the previous commenter's ass, I would like to say that although you have a mountain on your plate, I believe the best in you. Just because you are real and transparent, something really amazing is going to come of all of this....that's just a hunch.

[Chris]

Namaste

[Kyle]

I love your honesty.
Your life looks glamorous from the outside, but now I have tons of insight into what you're actually going through....
I pray things get better for you.
You're not a "whiner" anymore than ANY of us, we just don't publicly post our thoughts...and anyone who denies that is scum.

[Dunce]

Off-topic, blatantly inflammatory, or otherwise inappropriate or vapid comments may be removed. Repeat offenders will be banned from commenting. Let's add value. Thank you.

[Chief J Strongbow]

I think James Joyce is rolling over in his grave. The fact that you allude to "getting ass-raped" is really refreshing.

Thus far, you've done a bang-up job of stigmatizing your own brand. If you want to call it that.

[Stephanie]

OMG - your honesty is quite awesome. I don't understand the pressure to be a 24-7 gorgeous icon though; I found it exhausting and was so much happier once I gave it up. One day I came to the realization that I had to slow the fuck down or I was going to die, and that was both the worst and best day of my life.

And wow, you've got some true retards reading your blog.

[Amanda]

Sarma - What you wrote makes you very normal. I don't doubt you are overwhelmed and writing your entry above, well I think that's a step in the right direction. We all have those thoughts! You have accomplished amazing things are under great pressures it sounds like - but remember you only HUMAN! Cut yourself some slack! Sounds hokey, but if you were talking to yourself, a younger version - would you expect so much? Or of a friend? I wish you the best and it's okay to feel flawed. :) Here is a *hug* 4 yah. :)

[Azucena]

Some (many?) men may not get it, but as a woman, your honesty is great, saying a lot of things that we want to say about our own lives that we can't. We're not supposed to admit that body image is an issue, that getting a lot done takes a lot of work, that being energetic and vibrant takes loads of self-work, and no, it's not done yet, it's all an on-going project. Especially young-and-still-considered-attractive (for the time being) women, they are supposed to be thin and attractive without putting any thought into it, men would like to think we sit around all day, eating 'like a man" to look good. No.
Um, but I hope you wouldn't refer to my unshaven thighs like that--I know these things are internalized, but let's not direct them at other people (the rest of stuff/swearing etc seemed very on point with letting go and being honest). Anyway, I personally love it overall. No one is freaking honest about their struggles!

[Peggy]

Wow. Thanks Sarma. I really needed that. Your post was a timely message that I needed to hear. I get wrapped up in the forward thinking of wanting to skip to the end, the celebration party, where all the work is done and I am basking in the rewards of it all. Somehow I convince myself that is where everyone else is and there are all waving at me to hurry up or laughing because I haven't figured out how to get there yet. Truth is, we are all here right now, sweating life, feeling joy and pain. So, thanks for reminding me to stop and enjoy the process and who I am today, because all I have is now.

[seave]

You are beautiful. You run a successful restaurant in Manhattan. You have a successful cookbook. Celebrity's love you - men love you. You are famous. You are healthy.

I'm sorry you are suffering the HORROR of being tired and craving coffee/Dorito's. Wow - that must be awful. Frankly it's hard to muster up sympathy.

Maybe being grateful for what you have/are would help. That ... and oh... remembering that all this "busy-ness" that is making you tired is all your own doing because you are ambitious and want to conquer the world like Martha. Cool. I hope you get it done - it would be awesome. But that's your choice, and it's hard to feel sorry for you.

I know you'd answer that you are just being honest. Honesty is fine. It read to me like extreme self-involvement. Try remembering that others have worse problems than not being good at yoga (try being in Iraq in 130 degree heat and being shot at!).

[SARMA]

Weird to comment on my own blog, but I just read all of these and the last one hit me. I'm not wanting sympathy, not meaning to "complain", and I certainly never implied anything was a "horror" as the last comment said. And of course I could walk away. Except that I never will. It's nerve wracking to put this stuff out there. (Though I'm sure not nearly so much as being shot at, for sure). And no, I don't HAVE to run this business, or write cookbooks or do any of this, or have any change-the-world ambitions at all. But I do, and I have employees that rely on me, and sorry, but I DO want to change the world. Did I just apologize for being ambitious?
I'm conflicted because more and more people give me loads of feedback and questions, in person in the restaurant, in letters and online, and I can't stand feeling like a fake. Did I not say in the first sentence that it's all self-serving? It's what is bottled up inside, so getting it out is helpful for me. You don't have to read it either if you don't want. But I felt compelled to put it out b/c I can't seem to make progress on my book, or put anything else out, if it feels I'm doing it on pretense. I am extraordinarily lucky, no doubt, and I think about that all the time. I'm happy. But that doesn't make it easy. I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me, that should be clear. But for all the people that write in asking me for advice... I guess I'd rather they know who they're asking.
I better stop before this turns into another ten pages and the sun comes up.
But thanks for the extra bit of fuel on my fire.
All my best,
Sarma

[Jo]

Sarma,

You seem pretty normal to me, although I aspire to be like you...that was until your very honest post. It was easy for me to read about raw food and assume that it was the answer to all of my ails...physical and mental. I'm like you I want to do everything but can't because I'm too busy running to stand still. I had hoped that the promise of less sleep and greater energy from eating raw foods only was the answer...perhaps I'm wrong.

You seem like a really nice person and I hope you get to fulfil your dreams. I hope you PA has improved your outlook somehow since a really good one should be able to organise you such that you can dlegate the routine tasks and get on with the strategy...I'm guessing you already know that though with your career history.

It's sad to think you're suffering...maybe you should allow yourself the doritoes just this once if that's what you really need to get you through a difficult time.

[Tara]

In business it is so easy (superficially at least) to tell people what they want to hear, i.e. buy my product/buy into my brand and you can have a perfect life just like me.
How sad it is at times to discover after something tragic like a suicide that the 'successful' person in question was actually tragically lost and putting up a public facade to keep people happy, or make money. I wonder if what drove them over the edge was not their own demons, but the pressure of having to pretend to be perfect.
How refreshing that Sarma has been so honest, because we are all just people on a journey, and on the inside we are often quite messy. I have far more respect for someone with the courage to expose that at times then someone who says what everyone wants to hear.

[Kelly Elisabeth]

Namaste is just a traditional Hindu greeting that means "The love in me honors the love in you."

I suppose people who practice yoga just use it out of reflex, as I do--it's not a superiority thing. If you are French, sometimes a French phrase or two comes out, even when you are speaking in English, non?

I hope you find the means to accomplish your dream.

[Janus]

I read your posts and I look in your recipe book and I just can't help thinking, if you were 100% raw and cut out the non raw food from your diet would you feel better? Would the dance party be back in your life?
From personal experience when I first went raw I could eat non raw nuts and the like and still feel like I was on E. But now after a few years my body contunually wants me to improve my diet and if I eat any suspect nuts or even cacao I am knocked off my high.
Maybe if you went 100% raw for a few weeks you'd get that high back? Just a thought.
Thanks for sharing yours with us.

[melissa-victoria]

Actually, you probably just need a vacation.

[Cory]

The concept of you as a multi-media, eco-friendly, raw-foodie “Martha” is an exuberant proposition indeed. Can I please reserve a space in that future global marketplace? Until your Icon status blooms to its fullest lush, a reminder; You have changed the world. When I recently started studying raw nutrition, I was grateful for the research, but I was missing a voice I could relate to. Someone who came to raw with the same sense of adventure, play, and revolutionary-chutzpah that brought me here. Your blog, your book, and your brand (which is what it is, and an impressive one at that), was all there and it resonated. When a promotion landed me in Texas, Alabama, and Georgia for short, freighting intervals, the duck kept me tasty-raw and happy.

When you, a woman who has so much, takes a risk and is honest, I’m grateful. Your gustiness is an act of respect toward me (someone who cares enough to read your blog), and I really appreciate it. And I am more willing to listen to your ideas and advice because of your bravery, not less. Not less in the least.
So, I have a favor to ask. Be a little kinder toward yourself. Try to remember that you are uniquely cool. See, I’m really looking forward to more from you, because it is going to help my journey along. A little secret; My post is self serving too. Pecking away, I hope this will ignite you to keep inspiring me. That’s how this crazy eternal dance goes- and will anyone who doesn’t get that, please get off the boogie-floor?

[Patricia Biesen]

Sarma, I'm a 36 year old woman and I can certainly relate to a lot of what you have to say. Just wanted you to know that I am rooting in your corner.

[baldguru]

Fascinating read as usual! How about Book2:

Raw Food -
Real Sarma

[Baking Fairy]

Sarma, you are changing the world. I moved to Costa Rica from San Francisco, quit my stupid corporate job and opened an organic restaurant and all inspired with your cookbook and ideas...I am not 100% raw but here it is so much easier to follow a pure diet. Most people in town have never tried raw ice-cream and they love it...I tell people about organic food, the test with monkeys and they listen to me. They come back for more food...The macaroons are selling so much and my favorite is the sea vegetable salad...I hope one day you will have time to come to costa rica and see this...The cafe is called Organico, I am doing it all myself and it is difficult to be a woman here, I have two employees who are not even vegetarian...

I understand completely when you say you don't need anyone to be sorry for you, but it is the sharing, making sure others understand what we do and why we do. I got so sick after working for 16 hours in the first 6 months, now I am looking to create the balance...it is hard when you are alone, I am not sure even if it's possible, but hey if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here. I have all the time to figure it out...and you too.

You are fantastic.

Love,

Ozlem

[Marykaye]

I've often felt that eating raw is just one of many aspects of a balanced, happy life. I'm new to raw/living foods, but I also experienced the "honeymoon" of feeling blissed out, energized and connected when I first started eating raw and now many months later, I can see that although my body feels so much better, I still need to work with my mind to feel calm and at peace. I've always needed to work out/meditate/spend time in nature daily and with friends, feeling loved, to experience that, and that hasn't changed; I wonder if that's what's missing in your life. (Plus add enough stress and pressure to see how "unconscious" any normal human being would become). I'm grateful for your contribution to promoting a raw food lifestyle--your book was so inspiring to me when I first got started with this--but when I read more of what you are about online, I wonder if the reason the "high" has worn off is that the deeper reality of life as a human being is that it is meaningless, ultimately, without some higher spiritual purpose. (Yes, alas, I am one of those "Namaste'ers"). As a vegan and an animal lover, I mean no disrespect when I say that without it maybe we're like a bunch of gorillas fighting over fruit. Shiny coat, strength, stamina--but what's the point? Not meaning to sound esoteric or obnoxious, just wishing you happiness and peace and love.