Work. 30 minutes until me and the rest of the government runs from the building for the stat holiday tomorrow.
First of all: UGH. Beside me, EW is regaling KW with some long convoluted story about something to do with literature. Usually the story ends uncomfortably. The two of them are always floundering for the right way to close thier conversations. EW lingers. KW doesn't particularly want him there, but EW strokes his ego and brings up topics he knows are of nterest to KW. It's awkward.
(Now they're talking poker, both of them suck at it, btw).
Second of all: glorious. Beautiful day. Nice breeze. Warm. I'm going to walk home. It's a long, long walk (wish I could helicopter Skittles in for it, would be very convienent because she could use a good walk every day of the week!!!). I am so looking forward to it. Why? Because I am not fitness walking home. I am strolling. I have given myself permission to amble. Which, I never do. I am always racing or trying to go as fast as possible. Today, it's all about enjoyment. I'm not watching the other walkers go by and trying to match thier pace and determination. Uh, unh. Nope. Today I am chillaxing the way home. All the way home!
Something about deciding to lose 100 + lbs last night was very liberating. Exactly what I needed. Why settle for 50, 70 or 80. What I want is to see what life is like if I live it to the fullest, so why hold back?
Of course if it doesn't happen, alright. I can't control the universe. But I will try to make this happen. I need a goal, something big to hang onto. And it's not about losing the weight. It's about something else that I can't define. Something to do with choosing life, as dumb as that sounds.
I just worry about
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Self Destructive Update #578,765,332,357,875,449
This blog could just as easily be called Mad's Self Destruction Tactics, as Big Girl on a Bike. It would be a lot more accurate. Since I haven't been riding much.
The surgery cannot come soon enough. I am scared of another month without it. I have an argument going back and forth in my head all the time. If I really wanted to lose weight and be successful, why am I overeating now before the surgery? Doesn't that indicate that I'll "fail"? And then I think well, I wouldn't be having the surgery if I didn't have this issue so of course I'm eating like crazy.
What I have been doing is not eating enough during the day and then I get home and I'm HUNGRRRRYYY. And I have a glass of wine. And it's all down hill from there. Wednesday was so bad I was about to collapse from hunger. Yesterday just a little, nothing like Wednesday. But yesterday I ate even more than I did on Wednesday. Four cinnamon sticks and most of a pizza. Actually, probably all of a pizza.
It was like I was on autopilot, just stuffing it in. More, more, more.
My friend and I were brainstorming options to help me to stop binge eating, especially with Kevin at night, after the surgery. It all sounds good in the moment. But when I'm faced with the opportunity to binge versus not, all those good intentions go out the door.
I don't know what to do to stem the tide before surgery in August. I do know that I don't want to be 280 lbs by the time I get to TJ. There's a pre-op diet to shrink the liver that I'll do- it's supposed to be 12 days before surgery. But maybe I should start in July. Things will be quiet at work by then and I could see it as a gentle reminder to take care of myself. I could also recommit to working out and biking to work.
Actually, I'll start the last week of June. Things will have died down by then.
But I am not doing the diet for weight loss. I need to make that dinstinction. I am doing the diet to shrink my liver, and, create an eating schedule and get used to eating smaller portions, more frequently. The diet is a selfcare diet. The diet is to help me workout and stop eating so much at night.
The surgery cannot come soon enough. I am scared of another month without it. I have an argument going back and forth in my head all the time. If I really wanted to lose weight and be successful, why am I overeating now before the surgery? Doesn't that indicate that I'll "fail"? And then I think well, I wouldn't be having the surgery if I didn't have this issue so of course I'm eating like crazy.
What I have been doing is not eating enough during the day and then I get home and I'm HUNGRRRRYYY. And I have a glass of wine. And it's all down hill from there. Wednesday was so bad I was about to collapse from hunger. Yesterday just a little, nothing like Wednesday. But yesterday I ate even more than I did on Wednesday. Four cinnamon sticks and most of a pizza. Actually, probably all of a pizza.
It was like I was on autopilot, just stuffing it in. More, more, more.
My friend and I were brainstorming options to help me to stop binge eating, especially with Kevin at night, after the surgery. It all sounds good in the moment. But when I'm faced with the opportunity to binge versus not, all those good intentions go out the door.
I don't know what to do to stem the tide before surgery in August. I do know that I don't want to be 280 lbs by the time I get to TJ. There's a pre-op diet to shrink the liver that I'll do- it's supposed to be 12 days before surgery. But maybe I should start in July. Things will be quiet at work by then and I could see it as a gentle reminder to take care of myself. I could also recommit to working out and biking to work.
Actually, I'll start the last week of June. Things will have died down by then.
But I am not doing the diet for weight loss. I need to make that dinstinction. I am doing the diet to shrink my liver, and, create an eating schedule and get used to eating smaller portions, more frequently. The diet is a selfcare diet. The diet is to help me workout and stop eating so much at night.
Monday, June 1, 2009
In the thick of it
I should have written sooner.
It wasn't a case of: why bother, things are good. It was more along the lines of: If I do blog I have to be aware of what I' feeling/doing and make sorting out my emotions a priority. And I wasn't ready to do that.
I'm still not. I'm just also not willing to be so destructive, or at least, I want to understand the impulse. In the first time for a while I can see my friends taking steps to be healthier or more "with it" and they're being successful, but I feel like I'm doing the opposite.
Although I actually resolved some big things that had been nagging at me. The electric bike got repaired and fiddled with and I rode it into work. That first ride resulted in some bruises when I had to get off to navigate a weird corner that joined two trails together and turned the throttle on. The rest of the ride was okay other than that, but that was just it. It was okay. I didn't necessarily need a shower, but I went really slowly and couldn't catch my own speed because of the upright nature of the bike. The second time I tried to ride it the chain came off and I was so mad and disappointed and frustrated I hopped on my regular bike and rode to work, hills be damned.
In all, I rode my bike to work 3x last week.
So that feels better.
One thing that helped take the pressure off was scheduling lap band surgery. It's official, booked and real now. On August 3rd I fly down to Mexico and have my surgery.
Whoa just writing that made my chest constrict. And then reading it made it constrict again.
Before I booked the surgery I spoke with a coordinator and she said people often gain weight before they have surgery in cases like mine where there's a 3 month wait. At first I thought, pah, why would I do that, that's just more weight to lose! But tell that to the compulsive eater side of me that's been noshing on all her favourite foods before she's forced to stop/die.
I say die, because I think that part of me really feels like this is a death- the end of an era, but certainly the end or death of a part of me. I have a lot of conflicting thoughts and feelings about this surgery (will it work, will I be one of those people unable to eat anything but who's still fat {actually those people don't exist but that's my worst fear, unable to enjoy food, but still fat} will I be okay, will I have any health problems due to this?). But despite those fears the reason why I am having the surgery is because I'm for it.
Mostly though, I want a physical barrier between me and my first instinct, which is to binge eat. I told Penny about it yesterday and she said, "Well, you really have tried everything else, including counselling."
And that about sums up my feelings, too. I tried counselling- made vast improvements in other areas but not weight loss. I tried exercise and that had some fits and starts but I now know a lot about fitness and actively work to be active most of the time and am successful with that (I should take a minute to acknowledge that- go me~!!!!!) I tried diet and exercise and lost a significant amount of weight. But like a spectre the compulsive eating was always hovering around, needing to be managed, dealt with, kept in check.
For all these years I have tried to deal with the compulsive eating directly (counselling) from the side (exercise) in a combined way (diet, exercise and counselling). And I have spent a lot of mental energy managing me. All those random thoughts on just this one topic, all that planning, guilt, shame, dreaming, hope... all that effort.
And I am still fat.
So for me, the lapband represents a freind. Someone or thing who will stand between me and impulse. I might really want to eat 3-6 slices of pizza. But it won't let me. And I think what will happen, knowing me and the process as I do, is that for the first while I will feel very thwarted and really miss the option to eat compulsively. But since the option won't be there my compulsive eating will steadily whither on the vine.
The thoughts and feelings won't go away from what I understand from my lapband support group, but the act of eating compulsively, will. It can't co-exist comfortably with the band.
I see it as a kind of death. Part of me is extremely glad to see it go and welcomes its demise. But another part is hanging on and scared and anxious and driving me to eat as much as I can before the "big day" because who knows when we'll have delicious food again? Never, that side of me whispers. It feels so final, like death. No more soft bready things. No more rare steak. No more carbonated drinks. And when I go back and re-read that list nothing on there is that bad. I can have toasted bread when I want it. A bite of cake here and there, well done steak and eventually even a carbonated drink every now and then.
It's not the loss of certain foods because as I've learned at the support groups, there are very few foods the band won't tolerate comepletely (though everyone's different) it's the loss of the ability to stuff my feelings at any time with the food of my choosing, in the amount of my choosing. After August 3rd, I won't be able to enjoy that familair, tried and true process anymore.
I know that the compulsive eating isn't good for me. I know that it doesn't even really work. It doesn't take away bad feelings/experiences it just delays them, smothers them and creates new ones. I know that what I seek from those experiences isn't food- I know that what I get from binge eating is a cycle of pain, release, shame that's as old as time for me.
But that cycle, pain, release, shame is my connection to my mother. To me as a child, to me as a person. It's how I interact with the world, how I cope with the demands of the world, of a typical day. It's everything.
Without it then, who am I?
How do I get through the world, how do I relate to myself. Do I become someone I don't even know?
And what do I instead to get my daily dose of shame- because that's what I am seeking when I binge eat. I feel bad- something is making me anxious or tense or sad. I don't like feeling that way because strong emotions are scary- they make me want to hurt myself. So, I eat. Not because I love the taste of 7 layer dip so much (though I do) but because I need to create a situation where I went wrong. Where I was out of control. The actual eating itself is mostly in autopilot. I do that because if I were to check in a voice would say "this is wrong, it takes us away from all our goals" so I don't check in and then when I'm done I look at all I ate and I do listen to that doomsday voice saying, "well, we're really fucked now" and then armed with all the evidence, I emotionally crucify myself.
It wasn't a case of: why bother, things are good. It was more along the lines of: If I do blog I have to be aware of what I' feeling/doing and make sorting out my emotions a priority. And I wasn't ready to do that.
I'm still not. I'm just also not willing to be so destructive, or at least, I want to understand the impulse. In the first time for a while I can see my friends taking steps to be healthier or more "with it" and they're being successful, but I feel like I'm doing the opposite.
Although I actually resolved some big things that had been nagging at me. The electric bike got repaired and fiddled with and I rode it into work. That first ride resulted in some bruises when I had to get off to navigate a weird corner that joined two trails together and turned the throttle on. The rest of the ride was okay other than that, but that was just it. It was okay. I didn't necessarily need a shower, but I went really slowly and couldn't catch my own speed because of the upright nature of the bike. The second time I tried to ride it the chain came off and I was so mad and disappointed and frustrated I hopped on my regular bike and rode to work, hills be damned.
In all, I rode my bike to work 3x last week.
So that feels better.
One thing that helped take the pressure off was scheduling lap band surgery. It's official, booked and real now. On August 3rd I fly down to Mexico and have my surgery.
Whoa just writing that made my chest constrict. And then reading it made it constrict again.
Before I booked the surgery I spoke with a coordinator and she said people often gain weight before they have surgery in cases like mine where there's a 3 month wait. At first I thought, pah, why would I do that, that's just more weight to lose! But tell that to the compulsive eater side of me that's been noshing on all her favourite foods before she's forced to stop/die.
I say die, because I think that part of me really feels like this is a death- the end of an era, but certainly the end or death of a part of me. I have a lot of conflicting thoughts and feelings about this surgery (will it work, will I be one of those people unable to eat anything but who's still fat {actually those people don't exist but that's my worst fear, unable to enjoy food, but still fat} will I be okay, will I have any health problems due to this?). But despite those fears the reason why I am having the surgery is because I'm for it.
Mostly though, I want a physical barrier between me and my first instinct, which is to binge eat. I told Penny about it yesterday and she said, "Well, you really have tried everything else, including counselling."
And that about sums up my feelings, too. I tried counselling- made vast improvements in other areas but not weight loss. I tried exercise and that had some fits and starts but I now know a lot about fitness and actively work to be active most of the time and am successful with that (I should take a minute to acknowledge that- go me~!!!!!) I tried diet and exercise and lost a significant amount of weight. But like a spectre the compulsive eating was always hovering around, needing to be managed, dealt with, kept in check.
For all these years I have tried to deal with the compulsive eating directly (counselling) from the side (exercise) in a combined way (diet, exercise and counselling). And I have spent a lot of mental energy managing me. All those random thoughts on just this one topic, all that planning, guilt, shame, dreaming, hope... all that effort.
And I am still fat.
So for me, the lapband represents a freind. Someone or thing who will stand between me and impulse. I might really want to eat 3-6 slices of pizza. But it won't let me. And I think what will happen, knowing me and the process as I do, is that for the first while I will feel very thwarted and really miss the option to eat compulsively. But since the option won't be there my compulsive eating will steadily whither on the vine.
The thoughts and feelings won't go away from what I understand from my lapband support group, but the act of eating compulsively, will. It can't co-exist comfortably with the band.
I see it as a kind of death. Part of me is extremely glad to see it go and welcomes its demise. But another part is hanging on and scared and anxious and driving me to eat as much as I can before the "big day" because who knows when we'll have delicious food again? Never, that side of me whispers. It feels so final, like death. No more soft bready things. No more rare steak. No more carbonated drinks. And when I go back and re-read that list nothing on there is that bad. I can have toasted bread when I want it. A bite of cake here and there, well done steak and eventually even a carbonated drink every now and then.
It's not the loss of certain foods because as I've learned at the support groups, there are very few foods the band won't tolerate comepletely (though everyone's different) it's the loss of the ability to stuff my feelings at any time with the food of my choosing, in the amount of my choosing. After August 3rd, I won't be able to enjoy that familair, tried and true process anymore.
I know that the compulsive eating isn't good for me. I know that it doesn't even really work. It doesn't take away bad feelings/experiences it just delays them, smothers them and creates new ones. I know that what I seek from those experiences isn't food- I know that what I get from binge eating is a cycle of pain, release, shame that's as old as time for me.
But that cycle, pain, release, shame is my connection to my mother. To me as a child, to me as a person. It's how I interact with the world, how I cope with the demands of the world, of a typical day. It's everything.
Without it then, who am I?
How do I get through the world, how do I relate to myself. Do I become someone I don't even know?
And what do I instead to get my daily dose of shame- because that's what I am seeking when I binge eat. I feel bad- something is making me anxious or tense or sad. I don't like feeling that way because strong emotions are scary- they make me want to hurt myself. So, I eat. Not because I love the taste of 7 layer dip so much (though I do) but because I need to create a situation where I went wrong. Where I was out of control. The actual eating itself is mostly in autopilot. I do that because if I were to check in a voice would say "this is wrong, it takes us away from all our goals" so I don't check in and then when I'm done I look at all I ate and I do listen to that doomsday voice saying, "well, we're really fucked now" and then armed with all the evidence, I emotionally crucify myself.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Morning Quikie
Got the bike yesterday. They did not charge me, as they were in error, (duh). But I don't think I will ever go to that shop again- customer service sucked and so did the repair.
But enough bitching- the past is the past and the present is bikedom! This is the official Bike to Work Week here and I'd like to take part but Monday no dice, T, W, TH I'm on course in a remote location that is unbikable. So Friday is the only day I can partake. Perhaps the universe is throwing obstacles in my so I can learn to relax? It certainly feels like I've been doing a lot of waiting/bumping up against walls. Which is hard for me. It triggers my need for instant gratification- which is what so often leads me to binge. "I don't feel happy and I want to feel better now! I think I'll eat, that'll help."
I never learned to just sit with my feelings. And that more than anything is probably the magic ingredient I am missing since I lost the initial weight. For the last year, I've kept trying to pinpoint the magic ingredient to success, right down to thinking that the season, summer, was the pivotal reason why I lost weight, or that I won't lose weight in every other season. Obviously, I have to let go of that magical thinking. And ironically, the way to do that is to sit with my feelings of sadness at having gained weight and sit through them until they pass- rather than eating. Which is what I've been doing.
When I was just sitting through feelings, letting them pass through and over and out of my world, I was losing weight. During those times when things gelled and I was able to let feelings pass without too much "weight" being attached to them, and I was consistently sitting through them, I lost the most weight, and it was easy in the sense that it wasn't a struggle. I would say to myself, "I know you want to eat right now. And I understand that urge. But let's wait 20 minutes, if you still want to eat we'll discuss our options. I need you to sit with me right now though this feeling though, and let it pass. If we act on it by eating, by doing anything destructive we're literally feeding it and it will never go away. We know that, we've done it many times before and food never works in the longterm. If we wait, it will go. And we'll get what we want in the long term and short term."
I'd repeat bits and peices of that over and over to myself as I sat through the feeling. And if I decided I did need to eat I would go to Sbux and get a lite drink- because it was summer and I wanted something icy and refreshing. But not calorie laden.
It wasn't a magic bullet, and as I recall I journaled a lot and had a lot of moments where I was painfully emotional and feeling raw- especially on long days left to myself. But it was hepful.
Am I ready to try again?
But enough bitching- the past is the past and the present is bikedom! This is the official Bike to Work Week here and I'd like to take part but Monday no dice, T, W, TH I'm on course in a remote location that is unbikable. So Friday is the only day I can partake. Perhaps the universe is throwing obstacles in my so I can learn to relax? It certainly feels like I've been doing a lot of waiting/bumping up against walls. Which is hard for me. It triggers my need for instant gratification- which is what so often leads me to binge. "I don't feel happy and I want to feel better now! I think I'll eat, that'll help."
I never learned to just sit with my feelings. And that more than anything is probably the magic ingredient I am missing since I lost the initial weight. For the last year, I've kept trying to pinpoint the magic ingredient to success, right down to thinking that the season, summer, was the pivotal reason why I lost weight, or that I won't lose weight in every other season. Obviously, I have to let go of that magical thinking. And ironically, the way to do that is to sit with my feelings of sadness at having gained weight and sit through them until they pass- rather than eating. Which is what I've been doing.
When I was just sitting through feelings, letting them pass through and over and out of my world, I was losing weight. During those times when things gelled and I was able to let feelings pass without too much "weight" being attached to them, and I was consistently sitting through them, I lost the most weight, and it was easy in the sense that it wasn't a struggle. I would say to myself, "I know you want to eat right now. And I understand that urge. But let's wait 20 minutes, if you still want to eat we'll discuss our options. I need you to sit with me right now though this feeling though, and let it pass. If we act on it by eating, by doing anything destructive we're literally feeding it and it will never go away. We know that, we've done it many times before and food never works in the longterm. If we wait, it will go. And we'll get what we want in the long term and short term."
I'd repeat bits and peices of that over and over to myself as I sat through the feeling. And if I decided I did need to eat I would go to Sbux and get a lite drink- because it was summer and I wanted something icy and refreshing. But not calorie laden.
It wasn't a magic bullet, and as I recall I journaled a lot and had a lot of moments where I was painfully emotional and feeling raw- especially on long days left to myself. But it was hepful.
Am I ready to try again?
Sunday, May 10, 2009
What's next?
So, I didn't get the dream job. What I didn't say in this blog was that while I waited to hear about the position I put off two things.
I put off signing up for my program at a local university next year. And I put off scheduling my surgery.
I'm not 100% committed to the university program, but the reality is my employer is paying for it (once I complete it) and with the way my career is going right now, I can use any boost I can get. Maybe it's just the sadness about not getting that job speaking, but I have this voice in the back of my head asking, "If you're such a hot shot why haven't you gotten a new job yet, you said this place was just a landing strategy, so what's the problem? Maybe it's you?"
The weird thing is, in jobs past, I've always been way too busy. Staying late, working through lunches-every day for six month stretches. Right now, I can take a lunch every day and I go home at on time. And I really like that. Yet I'm chafing at the bit with the micromanaging. My ED makes all the decisions and I just book rooms. I don't have any access to the decision making. I fought that hard, until I adopted a zen approach. But the zen approach worried me- did it mean I was becoming a complacenet house cat, letting everyone else get all the opportunities? I was able to shush my ego and let it go, until I saw an out in the dream job. And then I started to fantasize about how great it would be to combine what I have learned in this job, humility and the working my set hours, with autonomy and confidence from my "superiors".
Like for example, I wonder if I shouldn't be learning how to make videos. W does and god knows they love him. I used to be the golden girl and a part of me misses that. But i also worked crazy hours and worked crazily just to gain approval, which was fleeting. Ugh. I can talk myself into circles on this.
So I need to cut to the chase. Does it matter to me that boss respects me? Not really, I mean it would be nice, but I don't have much control over her. Does it matter if I'm the star? Definitely not. Does it matter if I deliver on my promises? Yes. Do I? Yes. Then that's it. That's all I can do. Do I want to make videos? A little. I'd also like to get better at building websites. So how about I just go ahead and update my own website portfolio and then start playing with video. I have the software here at home. I can make a video of the tetons!
But I'm not doing it for "them". I'm doing it for me. To bring a little fun back to my work.
As for the surgery, not getting that job (I was so sure I'd at least be interviewed!!!) means that I can now take off all of August, which is a gift, really. And I can have almost a whole month to recover and get used to this new way of eating. It will be like a spa.
More on that later...
I put off signing up for my program at a local university next year. And I put off scheduling my surgery.
I'm not 100% committed to the university program, but the reality is my employer is paying for it (once I complete it) and with the way my career is going right now, I can use any boost I can get. Maybe it's just the sadness about not getting that job speaking, but I have this voice in the back of my head asking, "If you're such a hot shot why haven't you gotten a new job yet, you said this place was just a landing strategy, so what's the problem? Maybe it's you?"
The weird thing is, in jobs past, I've always been way too busy. Staying late, working through lunches-every day for six month stretches. Right now, I can take a lunch every day and I go home at on time. And I really like that. Yet I'm chafing at the bit with the micromanaging. My ED makes all the decisions and I just book rooms. I don't have any access to the decision making. I fought that hard, until I adopted a zen approach. But the zen approach worried me- did it mean I was becoming a complacenet house cat, letting everyone else get all the opportunities? I was able to shush my ego and let it go, until I saw an out in the dream job. And then I started to fantasize about how great it would be to combine what I have learned in this job, humility and the working my set hours, with autonomy and confidence from my "superiors".
Like for example, I wonder if I shouldn't be learning how to make videos. W does and god knows they love him. I used to be the golden girl and a part of me misses that. But i also worked crazy hours and worked crazily just to gain approval, which was fleeting. Ugh. I can talk myself into circles on this.
So I need to cut to the chase. Does it matter to me that boss respects me? Not really, I mean it would be nice, but I don't have much control over her. Does it matter if I'm the star? Definitely not. Does it matter if I deliver on my promises? Yes. Do I? Yes. Then that's it. That's all I can do. Do I want to make videos? A little. I'd also like to get better at building websites. So how about I just go ahead and update my own website portfolio and then start playing with video. I have the software here at home. I can make a video of the tetons!
But I'm not doing it for "them". I'm doing it for me. To bring a little fun back to my work.
As for the surgery, not getting that job (I was so sure I'd at least be interviewed!!!) means that I can now take off all of August, which is a gift, really. And I can have almost a whole month to recover and get used to this new way of eating. It will be like a spa.
More on that later...
Thursday, May 7, 2009
The highs and lows
I finally heard back on a job I had applied for- turns out they want more media experience. I do a lot of fielding and behind the scenes work but I don't deal with media much anymore. I think what they really wanted was a retired journalist turned hack. Which seems to be the best way to get a good job in PR around here, writers just don't cut it anymore.
But it was a good experience. The woman running the posting was really kind and just... well, nice. I called her on Monday to inquire about the short-list and she seemed genuinely happy to hear from me, (She actually said, "I am genuinely happy to hear from you!") which is the total opposite of the dreaded "hi, I just sent in my resume two weeks ago and was wondering if you'd ever get around to shortlisting for interviews?" phone call job applicants are hectored to make. I once had to make one of those calls and sit through awkward silence as the gal on the other end actually read a prepared speech to me verbatim about her branch process for selecting interview candidates. That's savvy key messaging!
But like I said, it was a good experience. It got me to thinking about the possibility for something new and better.
Next week is Bike to Work Week here. I called the bike shop and of course they were cheerful and friendly and said that my tire situation would be an easy and quick fix (only I have my doubts, I don't think it's the tube, it's the tire... but I'll cross that bridge later and now that I have spewed all my inner vitriol I feel much better about the whole thing) and shouldn't take long.
Which got me to thinking. Just how long will my new route be, exactly?
Well thankfully my co-worker Emily came to the rescue and sent me a link for Gmap. It's awesome. I was able to map my route, including the bike trails here and I was able to see that my route is 7 km or 4.5 miles. (Funny, I have been here so long that km's have more of a frame of reference for me than miles. That said, I will forever remain a farenheit girl, the idea that 30 is smoking hot is just stupid.)
My diet brain took over and started to do some calculations. That's 14.5 km's a day, or 9 miles. Calories burned round trip is 1862. That's more than I eat some days! (We call those good days). Take all of that over a work week and I've racked up 72.5 km/ 45 mi and 9,310 calories.
7 km's isn't much- I've ridden much more over hilly terrain without an electric motor to help. I find for me that the first 3 km's are a bit of a slog- my body just isn't that warmed up and I feel like it's "work" but after the 3 mark, I'm sailing until about 12-15 km's. But I will have 8 hours to recover between rides so realistically, I probably won't even be that tired. Sure, the first week I'll be knackered from the novelty and my anxiety for doping something new.
And I'll probably need to get there early and shower and do my hair there, but I'm okay with that.
______________________
Okay, the truth is, I'm bummed about the job- not even an interview- come on! But I'm mostly bummed for selfish reasons. I loved the idea of a four day work week and I loved the idea of getting paid $200 more p/month for 4 days less work (work/life balance rules) and doing something with more autonomy. Non-selfishly I really do miss doing something in non-profit land, but selfishly, I don't miss non-profit land culture.
But that's a post for another day.
But it was a good experience. The woman running the posting was really kind and just... well, nice. I called her on Monday to inquire about the short-list and she seemed genuinely happy to hear from me, (She actually said, "I am genuinely happy to hear from you!") which is the total opposite of the dreaded "hi, I just sent in my resume two weeks ago and was wondering if you'd ever get around to shortlisting for interviews?" phone call job applicants are hectored to make. I once had to make one of those calls and sit through awkward silence as the gal on the other end actually read a prepared speech to me verbatim about her branch process for selecting interview candidates. That's savvy key messaging!
But like I said, it was a good experience. It got me to thinking about the possibility for something new and better.
Next week is Bike to Work Week here. I called the bike shop and of course they were cheerful and friendly and said that my tire situation would be an easy and quick fix (only I have my doubts, I don't think it's the tube, it's the tire... but I'll cross that bridge later and now that I have spewed all my inner vitriol I feel much better about the whole thing) and shouldn't take long.
Which got me to thinking. Just how long will my new route be, exactly?
Well thankfully my co-worker Emily came to the rescue and sent me a link for Gmap. It's awesome. I was able to map my route, including the bike trails here and I was able to see that my route is 7 km or 4.5 miles. (Funny, I have been here so long that km's have more of a frame of reference for me than miles. That said, I will forever remain a farenheit girl, the idea that 30 is smoking hot is just stupid.)
My diet brain took over and started to do some calculations. That's 14.5 km's a day, or 9 miles. Calories burned round trip is 1862. That's more than I eat some days! (We call those good days). Take all of that over a work week and I've racked up 72.5 km/ 45 mi and 9,310 calories.
7 km's isn't much- I've ridden much more over hilly terrain without an electric motor to help. I find for me that the first 3 km's are a bit of a slog- my body just isn't that warmed up and I feel like it's "work" but after the 3 mark, I'm sailing until about 12-15 km's. But I will have 8 hours to recover between rides so realistically, I probably won't even be that tired. Sure, the first week I'll be knackered from the novelty and my anxiety for doping something new.
And I'll probably need to get there early and shower and do my hair there, but I'm okay with that.
______________________
Okay, the truth is, I'm bummed about the job- not even an interview- come on! But I'm mostly bummed for selfish reasons. I loved the idea of a four day work week and I loved the idea of getting paid $200 more p/month for 4 days less work (work/life balance rules) and doing something with more autonomy. Non-selfishly I really do miss doing something in non-profit land, but selfishly, I don't miss non-profit land culture.
But that's a post for another day.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Grrrr
This probably isn't going to be a very interesting post for anyone but me, but then again I don't have readers so what do I care?!
Picked up the bike in the afternoon yesterday. First red flag: they hooked up the wires wrong so the motor was going- but it wasn't actually working. The tech could have rolled his eyes and seemed more responsive to my request that it be fixed. At first he said something about not having space until May 30. Yeah, no. It took me being polite but persistent (read not leaving as they closed for the day) for them to open it up and fix the connection right then, not May 30th. Semi-satisfied, I head off into traffic without my helmet- which I thought was in the storage box on the bike, but wasn't, so I don't want to accuse them of theft, but, where the fuck is my helmet? I decide to let go of the helmet issue, after all, I could be mistaken and I don't want to charge in their sputtering accusations when so much has already gone wrong.
I start pedaling my way through traffic and right away even with the motor charged up I feel a lot of resistance. But I ignore it. I put it down to my first ride and nervousness (the whole time I keep thinking about the person who will, at any moment, snidely take me to task for not wearing a helmet not to mention all the shitty looks I will get). I ignore the resistance and keep going.
But then I get on the goose. And I just know something is wrong. Even still I don't listen to that little voice. I tell it to shut up. But my back tire is flat. It has to be. It's dragging and bumping and I can hear the rubber smacking against the pavement. I may not be Lance Fucking Armstrong, but I'm pretty sure my back tire isn't supposed to make slapping noises. But I tell myself to shut up. Because I just picked up my bike from the shop and paid $100.00 to get it repaired and tires changed. The little voice whispers FUCK. I keep riding. Maybe I'm wrong, what do I know about electric bikes? Maybe this is normal, I hope. A lady calls out to me. Inwardly I cringe. I just know she's gonna say that I should be wearing a helmet. Instead she calls out, "I think you have a flat. In the back."
I make that helpless 'I know, whatt'ya gonna do face'. Cause really, I'm half way home, I have a flat and the bike shop is closed. So what can I do? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.
These situations really get the best of me because I find the bike shop intimidating to begin with. They all look very athletic. Like the kind of people who think nothing of pulling a century over the weekend for shits and giggles. (A century, for those not in the know is a one hundred mile ride). And the bike weighs a ton so getting it there is epic. Plus, I paid for a service and they screwed up the connection and gave me 'tude about it. And they didn't change the tire or the tube in the tire correctly. So now I have to go back. I have to lug that heavy bike into the trunk of our car, drag it in and I just fucking know they're going to be dicks about a quick service and a refund. I don't think I should pay for any labour for this fix, and I should definitely be refunded for the last one. Plus, the timing is all fucked because their hours don't fit with mine so that means the weekend, which means who knows when I will actually get to ride my new (fucking) bike.
So why does it make me so mad (aside from shitty customer service and wasted time)? Because, this is screwing with my plans. I had hoped to use the bike as a catalyst for change- forward momentum, man. And the truth is, I have some kind of screwed up way of being that says if I don't exercise every day I am a bad person. If I don't eat right every day, I am a bad person, too.
You combine those two commandments (thou shalt exercise and thou shalt eat right) and I am bound to screw one or both of them up on a daily basis.
But I figured, I have to get back and forth to work, so, building a bike ride into my routine was my crafty attempt to take a little bit of the pressure off myself- and avoid daily jaunts on the smelly loser cruiser. (Plus I desperately want to be one of those sporty people who think nothing of hopping on their bikes for a half century on a weekend for shits and giggles). Commuting by bike would mean I'd accomplished half of my daily "to-do list" 5 days a week. (Imagine the sweet relief of getting at living up to one commandment at least!)
Now though, my plans have all gone to shit. I had to sit through two weeks while the bike got serviced and that caused me to be anxious (unfinished business). Then you add in the fact that I had to shell out $450.00 for the bike and $100.00 for repairs and I feel guilty for spending so much money on myself. Then you factor in my mounting terror about riding in traffic (compounded by the fact that I have to wait to face my fear), and, my embarrassment that I need an electric bike versus a regular bike and I really just feel like... like I am on hold. And the feeling of being on hold is just anxiety- it's like being in a waiting room, waiting to start to feel more in control, to stop feeling like a failure.
Why do I feel like a failure? The usual stuff. I'm 100 lbs overweight, I gained back 20 of the 70 lbs I lost last year. I hate my job and am in a "junior" position, I left a higher paying position due to someone sexually harassing me in an already toxic environment (and I can always just imagine every one's nasty comments behind my back "she couldn't cut it", "she brought it on herself by being too friendly", "she's weak and broke down under the pressure"). What else? I don't have a degree. I don't have sex enough with my husband (anti-depressants take away my sex drive), I'm not a good gardener, I have bad knees, I have cellulite on my calves (who the fuck has ripples of cellulite on their calves beside me?) I don't floss often enough and have gingivitis. I have corns and wide feet. Lately, I can't wear heels because they hurt too much. Oh, and I seem to have permanent camel toe nowadays. (The C-Toe, combined with my "comfortable flats" makes me look about 20 years older than I am, with a big vag, to boot.)
No wonder I feel like a failure. Actually, the wonder is that I actually get out of bed every day and continue to make an effort. But then I seize upon a plan- a plan in the making for a year- to ride to work every day. It took me a full year to devise a means by which I could reasonably attempt to ride to work every day on a bike. It took a whole year- more than a year- to gently cajole myself into braving traffic and other, potentially judgemental bikers, it took me spending money on myself, it took me planning safe routes, contingency plans, coordinating apres bike ride grooming plans and supplies, psyching myself up and god knows what else. It took a year to get here and now the whole fucking plan is delayed (and sullied) because the bike shop made me wait 2 weeks to get it serviced and fucked up the servicing and now I will have to wait who knows how long to get it right. (Plus I have my suspicions that bike people will be like restaurant servers and get back at me for asking for my bike to be fixed and not be charged the equivalent of spitting in my supper- they seem like a petty and vindictive bunch).
And, it's bike to work week next week, and I signed up for a team. It's a small thing, but being able to drop my participation in bike to work week into casual conversation would have meant a lot to me. And I would have felt like I was part of something- but nooooo that's all over now. That is just dashed. Ruined.
Maybe some people can take these things in stride and shrug their shoulders and say, oh well, it's gonna be fixed eventually. But I'm not one of those people. Besides for me, this is like waiting for a year, not two weeks. This was a series of baby steps on the way to a larger goal and now external obstacles are in my fucking way. And I feel like external obstacles are also in the way of my career. They're beyond my control. I can't change them. I have to be zen. Okay, well I've adopted a zen attitude on my job, but now the universe wants me to be zen about the bike, too?
Come on. Give me a fucking break. Actually, no, give me a fucking bone. Just something. One little thing I could do to feel a little bit more in control, a little less like a fuck, a little more like I won't be 100+ lbs overweight with a gaping camel toe for the rest of my life. One little fucking win is all I need right now.
But instead, I'm consigned to the waiting room.
Picked up the bike in the afternoon yesterday. First red flag: they hooked up the wires wrong so the motor was going- but it wasn't actually working. The tech could have rolled his eyes and seemed more responsive to my request that it be fixed. At first he said something about not having space until May 30. Yeah, no. It took me being polite but persistent (read not leaving as they closed for the day) for them to open it up and fix the connection right then, not May 30th. Semi-satisfied, I head off into traffic without my helmet- which I thought was in the storage box on the bike, but wasn't, so I don't want to accuse them of theft, but, where the fuck is my helmet? I decide to let go of the helmet issue, after all, I could be mistaken and I don't want to charge in their sputtering accusations when so much has already gone wrong.
I start pedaling my way through traffic and right away even with the motor charged up I feel a lot of resistance. But I ignore it. I put it down to my first ride and nervousness (the whole time I keep thinking about the person who will, at any moment, snidely take me to task for not wearing a helmet not to mention all the shitty looks I will get). I ignore the resistance and keep going.
But then I get on the goose. And I just know something is wrong. Even still I don't listen to that little voice. I tell it to shut up. But my back tire is flat. It has to be. It's dragging and bumping and I can hear the rubber smacking against the pavement. I may not be Lance Fucking Armstrong, but I'm pretty sure my back tire isn't supposed to make slapping noises. But I tell myself to shut up. Because I just picked up my bike from the shop and paid $100.00 to get it repaired and tires changed. The little voice whispers FUCK. I keep riding. Maybe I'm wrong, what do I know about electric bikes? Maybe this is normal, I hope. A lady calls out to me. Inwardly I cringe. I just know she's gonna say that I should be wearing a helmet. Instead she calls out, "I think you have a flat. In the back."
I make that helpless 'I know, whatt'ya gonna do face'. Cause really, I'm half way home, I have a flat and the bike shop is closed. So what can I do? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.
These situations really get the best of me because I find the bike shop intimidating to begin with. They all look very athletic. Like the kind of people who think nothing of pulling a century over the weekend for shits and giggles. (A century, for those not in the know is a one hundred mile ride). And the bike weighs a ton so getting it there is epic. Plus, I paid for a service and they screwed up the connection and gave me 'tude about it. And they didn't change the tire or the tube in the tire correctly. So now I have to go back. I have to lug that heavy bike into the trunk of our car, drag it in and I just fucking know they're going to be dicks about a quick service and a refund. I don't think I should pay for any labour for this fix, and I should definitely be refunded for the last one. Plus, the timing is all fucked because their hours don't fit with mine so that means the weekend, which means who knows when I will actually get to ride my new (fucking) bike.
So why does it make me so mad (aside from shitty customer service and wasted time)? Because, this is screwing with my plans. I had hoped to use the bike as a catalyst for change- forward momentum, man. And the truth is, I have some kind of screwed up way of being that says if I don't exercise every day I am a bad person. If I don't eat right every day, I am a bad person, too.
You combine those two commandments (thou shalt exercise and thou shalt eat right) and I am bound to screw one or both of them up on a daily basis.
But I figured, I have to get back and forth to work, so, building a bike ride into my routine was my crafty attempt to take a little bit of the pressure off myself- and avoid daily jaunts on the smelly loser cruiser. (Plus I desperately want to be one of those sporty people who think nothing of hopping on their bikes for a half century on a weekend for shits and giggles). Commuting by bike would mean I'd accomplished half of my daily "to-do list" 5 days a week. (Imagine the sweet relief of getting at living up to one commandment at least!)
Now though, my plans have all gone to shit. I had to sit through two weeks while the bike got serviced and that caused me to be anxious (unfinished business). Then you add in the fact that I had to shell out $450.00 for the bike and $100.00 for repairs and I feel guilty for spending so much money on myself. Then you factor in my mounting terror about riding in traffic (compounded by the fact that I have to wait to face my fear), and, my embarrassment that I need an electric bike versus a regular bike and I really just feel like... like I am on hold. And the feeling of being on hold is just anxiety- it's like being in a waiting room, waiting to start to feel more in control, to stop feeling like a failure.
Why do I feel like a failure? The usual stuff. I'm 100 lbs overweight, I gained back 20 of the 70 lbs I lost last year. I hate my job and am in a "junior" position, I left a higher paying position due to someone sexually harassing me in an already toxic environment (and I can always just imagine every one's nasty comments behind my back "she couldn't cut it", "she brought it on herself by being too friendly", "she's weak and broke down under the pressure"). What else? I don't have a degree. I don't have sex enough with my husband (anti-depressants take away my sex drive), I'm not a good gardener, I have bad knees, I have cellulite on my calves (who the fuck has ripples of cellulite on their calves beside me?) I don't floss often enough and have gingivitis. I have corns and wide feet. Lately, I can't wear heels because they hurt too much. Oh, and I seem to have permanent camel toe nowadays. (The C-Toe, combined with my "comfortable flats" makes me look about 20 years older than I am, with a big vag, to boot.)
No wonder I feel like a failure. Actually, the wonder is that I actually get out of bed every day and continue to make an effort. But then I seize upon a plan- a plan in the making for a year- to ride to work every day. It took me a full year to devise a means by which I could reasonably attempt to ride to work every day on a bike. It took a whole year- more than a year- to gently cajole myself into braving traffic and other, potentially judgemental bikers, it took me spending money on myself, it took me planning safe routes, contingency plans, coordinating apres bike ride grooming plans and supplies, psyching myself up and god knows what else. It took a year to get here and now the whole fucking plan is delayed (and sullied) because the bike shop made me wait 2 weeks to get it serviced and fucked up the servicing and now I will have to wait who knows how long to get it right. (Plus I have my suspicions that bike people will be like restaurant servers and get back at me for asking for my bike to be fixed and not be charged the equivalent of spitting in my supper- they seem like a petty and vindictive bunch).
And, it's bike to work week next week, and I signed up for a team. It's a small thing, but being able to drop my participation in bike to work week into casual conversation would have meant a lot to me. And I would have felt like I was part of something- but nooooo that's all over now. That is just dashed. Ruined.
Maybe some people can take these things in stride and shrug their shoulders and say, oh well, it's gonna be fixed eventually. But I'm not one of those people. Besides for me, this is like waiting for a year, not two weeks. This was a series of baby steps on the way to a larger goal and now external obstacles are in my fucking way. And I feel like external obstacles are also in the way of my career. They're beyond my control. I can't change them. I have to be zen. Okay, well I've adopted a zen attitude on my job, but now the universe wants me to be zen about the bike, too?
Come on. Give me a fucking break. Actually, no, give me a fucking bone. Just something. One little thing I could do to feel a little bit more in control, a little less like a fuck, a little more like I won't be 100+ lbs overweight with a gaping camel toe for the rest of my life. One little fucking win is all I need right now.
But instead, I'm consigned to the waiting room.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Of mice and men
Today seems to have a theme- making me unsettled.
In the morning we had a nurse come by to draw blood, take our blood pressure and urine samples for insurance coverage. Kevin is their ideal client, he runs, he's thin, he never drinks and doesn't have an enormous amount of death and illness in his immediate family. I, on the other hand, am considered and insurance risk. Mother died at 49, 275b lbs.
Later today, I have a Dr's appt. I'm going because I have been avoiding dealing with my knee pain for, oh, years. And I thought if I am going to get the lap band surgery I might as well also deal with some other issues at the same time. I'm also dealing with hypoglycemia, have been for years. But since I have been headachey for the last while I thought I'd finally seek some medical advise- maybe it's not hypoglycemia or maybe they have better info than I can find on the internet on my own.
I went to the bike shop to pick up my bike but duh, it's not ready until 4:30 today. I'm pretty sure that by the time 4:30 rolls around the sky will open up and it's gonna pour on my first ride home. But I guess that's just another thing to get used to if I bike to work every day in the "good" months.
Already I started to calculate how much weight I could lose biking about 12 K a day. Probably about 5 lb's a month if I'm conservative- or 10 if I was able to avoid binge eating and all drinking. But asking that of myself, especially right now when I've been so unwilling and unable to do that, seems like setting myself up for failure and disappointment. And frankly I'm a tad sick of feeling disappointed in myself- feeling as if I am letting myself down all the time is fucking tiring.
Kevin and I have been watching Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer,on DVD a lot. At first it started as a fun distraction. We know our dogs aren't perfect, by any means, and we figured we'd pick up some good tips and tricks but I didn't think it would have any lasting impact on my life.
But something has sunk in!
The DW talks a lot about rehabilitating dogs and training humans. He also talks a lot about how dogs pick up on energy and use energy- they use energy to decide on a course of action, to be with someone- everything really. I started to realize that when I got Runkie I saw him as a savior. I had no friends, no family here and it was the first time I put my foot down in our relationship and demanded we do something outside of our comfort zone by getting Runkie.
Normally, I tend to go with the flow. But there have been a couple of notable instances where I have been firm and demanded we do things my way. Buying the house, Runkie and Skittles are all in our lives at my insistence. I said that they were non-negotiable things I had to have in my life in order to function. I always feel guilty about these things (before I "get" them and for a little while immediately after) but they always end up being a life changing experience for both of us- that improves our lives. It usually takes a year to five to accomplish them, sometimes less in Skittles case!
Back to Runkie though. When I got him Kevin still worked nights and we both slept during the day. I had terrible anxiety and panic attacks and just being outside alone caused me to feel terrified. I was not the person I am now. I couldn't leave the house unless accompanied by someone else. And because I had no friends, no family, no job- nothing, I really didn't have a reason to go out, really. So Runkie represented my fledgling attempt to rejoin the world. He needed to be walked for potty time. He needed to see people, places and things. And so I started to explore the world with him.
Because of my anxiety I didn't much more than go around the block by myself the first year, and even that was nerve wracking. But he was my shield. I was gauranteed good interactions with him at my side and I felt safe with him there.
But according to the DW I was putting him into the role of the protector and pack leader and that's where a lot of his dominance problems stem from. He only did what I asked him to do. And as I got better I never took that role away from him because for the most part, he's a good boy and I see that he has a gift of calming people and being incredibly loving. I didn't want to call him dominant or aggressive because he's not- he's insecure because I put a heavy burden on him. And when he and I bump up against one another for "power" he's confused. I let him run the show for so long he doesn't understand why I am saying no.
We even have a joke about him, if he had a motto it would be: you don't tell me, I tell you.
Anyway, Runkie attacks if we try to take a chewie away. So now I have been using the DW techniques of dominating him to put his chews down, instead of asking (and getting bitten). I stand by him or sit and start taking up physical space and I only ask once. I wait for him to move away and drop it. He attacked during the last session, (his chewis was down to a nub and we panic he'll choke- he has before) and I put him on his side and waited for him to calm down. And it's working.
I think it's all about the energy though. If I put him on his side and was filled with anger, it would be abusive. If I put him on his side and think instead of being a calm, balanced influence who is bringing peace and compassion to the situation, I can feel him relax. I keep his tail up so he doesn't get scared and when I feel him relax, I can actually feel it, I loosen my grip and start to stroke him in neutral zones, so it's never a punishment, but a correction.
There's some controversy about the DW's methods- but the important thing in my eyes is intention and energy. If the intention is to defuse an aggressive dog in an aggressive situation and you send a calm, confident energy, it's not cruel. When I put Runkie on his side I could actually feel him release his tension and rage after a couple of seconds, it was like the fight went out of him, not the spirit which is what animal owners always worry about, but the fight. The aggression naturally faded and I could almost feel or sense that he was coming to his senses. Like a switch had gone off in his brain that said, "I don't actually want to bite my mother, I just flared up because she tried to take my precious, but I guess that's not good."
Skittles is another matter. Skittles is pure fun. She has never bitten either of us, or anyone for that matter. Skittles' main goal in life is to have fun, to enjoy every second and squeeze the love out of every encounter. She's a big suck- she loves to cuddle and she has no personal boundaries. Our bodies are merely extensions of her pack sense- she feels it's totally natural to be connected to us by laying all over us. It's not dominance, she's insecure and our presence makes her feel safe and secure. I try to introduce her to situations where she can overcome little obstacles and become more confident and I think doing some DW techniques with her can help her feel more calm. Mostly we're focusing on creating space in the household- no jumping on the nice furniture, calm submissive state before walks (as opposed to bouncing off the walls), asking to come up on us and being more polite with strangers (instead of actually bouncing off of them and trying to stand on their shoulders).
In her case, I think Skittles' feels more secure because she'll have rules and boundaries- things will be clear to her so she'll feel secure in herself. That's the hope anyway.
But all of that was really a segue! Or just me thinking through my own history with my dogs. All of that was to say that both of them are conduits and living expressions of my mood and needs. Runkie came to me at a time when I needed stability and leadership- he provided that to me! He came to me when I needed someone to help me come out of my shell and with his cute looks and fun personality he attracted people to me and helped me to gain confidence during social interactions. Skittles came into my life just after we lost Mondo and I was desperately seeking love. Runkie was getting on in years and wasn't as cuddly- he wanted more space. I wanted and needed someone who could share my sense of play and fun enhance my own good times. I wanted a cuddly little being who had no boundaries so I could shower them with constant affection and give them all the love I don't give to myself. From day one, Skittles gave me that. She loved being touched and stroked and snuggled. She's a repository for all the love I feel. For me Skittles is affection.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Ode to last night
Ahhh, blissful. Yesterday afternoon didn’t start particularly auspiciously. I had sent myself a “to-do” list home and when I contemplated completing it I felt tired, hemmed in. But also accountable. It was also colder than Monday and this niggling voice in the back of my head kept repeating, “Well, you blew Monday. It was a perfect day for exercising and yard work and you just sat on the deck like a beached whale and then watched a movie inside, beauty squandering idiot.” (Ha- no wonder I feel beaten before I even start!)
I went out with the dogs and I thought, before I get started, I’ll eat dinner. Then I called the woman off the internet- she’s a lapband patient who said she had the contact info for a nurse in Victoria who did fills. I can’t/won’t have the surgery without a reliable contact for fills, so I called her. She called back right away with great info, alas no mythical fill nurse in Victoria. But she did invite me to attend a lapband patient support group tonight! I’m excited. One step closer, plus it felt great to cross off the most important item on my to-do list.
But the question of whether to exercise kept rearing it’s ugly head. I’d just eaten so I started yard work. It wasn’t on my to-do list but I suddenly had a realization- Skittles would continue to destroy the grape hyacinths with her running and they are in an exceptionally pointless spot- middle of nowhere surrounded by grass- so I can’t mow there, weeding is pointless and Skittles is crushing them. Why not just dig up as much of them as I can and transplant them?
It was harder work than I’d thought, each batch required careful digging to preserve the bulb and I almost filled up an entire wheelbarrow. Then I went over to an established but sparse flower bed, weeded it and started planting them. They look a bit rough, poor things, they’ll need TLC.
By then it was late, it took a good 2 hours to accomplish all of that. So I decided that with those plants gone I could cut the grass in the backyard- I’d been holding back because I didn’t quite know what to do with that corner. Wow, what a difference the mowing made. Everything seems so much cleaner, clearly delineated. I just didn’t like the overrun edges and corners.
When that was done, I reseeded, watered and then decided it was time to wind down- it was 8:30. So I pulled out my yoga mat and did some easy hatha poses for about 45 minutes. The sun was going down and a lot of the time my line of sight was pointed right at our weeping birch. The air was still. The sky was charged- maybe rain, maybe not. There was a strong breeze on my bare feet- but not cold. I felt like it was just me and the trees.
I let go of the idea of doing a really intense workout and stopped the voices of complaint- I had done good, I had done enough. I deserved to wind down with a gentle stretch and that was all I needed after all my squatting and digging.
After that Kevin and I went into the hot tub and then we went to bed.
I went out with the dogs and I thought, before I get started, I’ll eat dinner. Then I called the woman off the internet- she’s a lapband patient who said she had the contact info for a nurse in Victoria who did fills. I can’t/won’t have the surgery without a reliable contact for fills, so I called her. She called back right away with great info, alas no mythical fill nurse in Victoria. But she did invite me to attend a lapband patient support group tonight! I’m excited. One step closer, plus it felt great to cross off the most important item on my to-do list.
But the question of whether to exercise kept rearing it’s ugly head. I’d just eaten so I started yard work. It wasn’t on my to-do list but I suddenly had a realization- Skittles would continue to destroy the grape hyacinths with her running and they are in an exceptionally pointless spot- middle of nowhere surrounded by grass- so I can’t mow there, weeding is pointless and Skittles is crushing them. Why not just dig up as much of them as I can and transplant them?
It was harder work than I’d thought, each batch required careful digging to preserve the bulb and I almost filled up an entire wheelbarrow. Then I went over to an established but sparse flower bed, weeded it and started planting them. They look a bit rough, poor things, they’ll need TLC.
By then it was late, it took a good 2 hours to accomplish all of that. So I decided that with those plants gone I could cut the grass in the backyard- I’d been holding back because I didn’t quite know what to do with that corner. Wow, what a difference the mowing made. Everything seems so much cleaner, clearly delineated. I just didn’t like the overrun edges and corners.
When that was done, I reseeded, watered and then decided it was time to wind down- it was 8:30. So I pulled out my yoga mat and did some easy hatha poses for about 45 minutes. The sun was going down and a lot of the time my line of sight was pointed right at our weeping birch. The air was still. The sky was charged- maybe rain, maybe not. There was a strong breeze on my bare feet- but not cold. I felt like it was just me and the trees.
I let go of the idea of doing a really intense workout and stopped the voices of complaint- I had done good, I had done enough. I deserved to wind down with a gentle stretch and that was all I needed after all my squatting and digging.
After that Kevin and I went into the hot tub and then we went to bed.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
I'm a human being, not a human doing damn you!
I want to write this all down so badly. But I feel as if there’s always someone right around the corner, or peeking over my shoulder. (Because I am at work, after all!) But I also really, really need and want to connect to myself again. I’ve been feeling a bit adrift, lost in work mode which is a shut down version of myself, and I don’t want to lose that sense of self I have on the weekends this week, I want to hold onto it as long as possible.
Yesterday, after finally feeling in control of things, I lost control. I worked all day off-site and at lunch had four beers with pizza with friends. It was a long, relaxing lunch. But it threw my whole day off, self-care wise. First off, the lunch wasn’t filling. Second is the drinking. So I had two protein drinks after work, noshed for the rest of the night and had no energy to workout. And even, somehow, inexplicably, hurt my lower back?
I feel like it was a loss of control because it’s not what I planned to have happen yesterday. I planned to go home, workout, garden and go to sleep early. Instead, I got home, couldn’t read, watched a movie and went to sleep late. Pretty much the exact opposite of what I’d planned. Which is okay, on the one hand, but I didn’t get anything productive done. And I had lost some weight and gained it all back in the space of one frigging day!
Other things that are causing me anxiety, too. I look at my yard and I see a wasteland. I secretly hoped that I would turn out to be a gardening whiz, but alas by garden looks really sparse and overgrown with weeds. And yet I am spending so much time out there. Everyday the weather has been nice I’ve been out, puttering, and I feel as if I have nothing to show for it. There are weeds everywhere. And my flower gardens in back are so blah. I don’t have enough flowers and I can’t afford to buy more. I am trying to tell myself that this is a foundation year, that I will be building on the work done this year for future years- but I don’t see any progress and I hate not seeing progress, it makes me feel unhinged.
And then there’s my bike. I bought the electric bike and road in traffic. I am so glad I have an electric bike for traffic. But it needs a tune up and new tires, natch. And they can’t even take a look at it until April 30. FUCK. I wanted to get started and build my routine- a new routine, a new way of being. It’s just one more thing I am waiting on though.
And then there’s the lapband surgery. Have to wait until August for that. And I have to wait to find out the contact information of the nurse in Victoria, who does fills and then get in touch with her and get a go-ahead. If I don’t have anyone to do my fills, there isn’t any point.
And while I’m complaining about waiting… waiting for progress, waiting for change, waiting for, I don’t know, peace, resolution, let’s talk about waiting for those things in regard to my weight. Have been working out more (not last week), have been trying to reach a balance with eating and drinking, dare I say it, I had been doing well. And I saw some progress last week, a tiny budge in the scale. But when I tried to go shopping for some new clothes, nothing fit, I was between sizes and everything was just “off”- can’t quite describe it. Just that everything was either too big, too small and all of it was unflattering. So it was a waste, in every sense.
I feel like I am on the brink of some change- but also that I am squarely where I always have been and always will be. The free floating anxiety I feel, I think, is related to this idea in my head that if I can just grab hold of all the things I want to do and get them accomplished I’ll feel at peace- comforted by the fact that I have taken control of things. But on the other hand, I wonder, am I just fooling myself by thinking I’ll feel better when it’s all done? The pile will always be there, after all. But even as I write that I rebel, because I want all of those things and I want to do them myself, I don’t want anyone else to do them for me, I want to feel that I accomplished those things. I started a new routine of riding to work and around town. I got my garden looking neat, organized but also whimsical. I changed my weight with lapband surgery, I changed my life. Maybe all that anxiety exists because this something I feel driven to do?
Yesterday, after finally feeling in control of things, I lost control. I worked all day off-site and at lunch had four beers with pizza with friends. It was a long, relaxing lunch. But it threw my whole day off, self-care wise. First off, the lunch wasn’t filling. Second is the drinking. So I had two protein drinks after work, noshed for the rest of the night and had no energy to workout. And even, somehow, inexplicably, hurt my lower back?
I feel like it was a loss of control because it’s not what I planned to have happen yesterday. I planned to go home, workout, garden and go to sleep early. Instead, I got home, couldn’t read, watched a movie and went to sleep late. Pretty much the exact opposite of what I’d planned. Which is okay, on the one hand, but I didn’t get anything productive done. And I had lost some weight and gained it all back in the space of one frigging day!
Other things that are causing me anxiety, too. I look at my yard and I see a wasteland. I secretly hoped that I would turn out to be a gardening whiz, but alas by garden looks really sparse and overgrown with weeds. And yet I am spending so much time out there. Everyday the weather has been nice I’ve been out, puttering, and I feel as if I have nothing to show for it. There are weeds everywhere. And my flower gardens in back are so blah. I don’t have enough flowers and I can’t afford to buy more. I am trying to tell myself that this is a foundation year, that I will be building on the work done this year for future years- but I don’t see any progress and I hate not seeing progress, it makes me feel unhinged.
And then there’s my bike. I bought the electric bike and road in traffic. I am so glad I have an electric bike for traffic. But it needs a tune up and new tires, natch. And they can’t even take a look at it until April 30. FUCK. I wanted to get started and build my routine- a new routine, a new way of being. It’s just one more thing I am waiting on though.
And then there’s the lapband surgery. Have to wait until August for that. And I have to wait to find out the contact information of the nurse in Victoria, who does fills and then get in touch with her and get a go-ahead. If I don’t have anyone to do my fills, there isn’t any point.
And while I’m complaining about waiting… waiting for progress, waiting for change, waiting for, I don’t know, peace, resolution, let’s talk about waiting for those things in regard to my weight. Have been working out more (not last week), have been trying to reach a balance with eating and drinking, dare I say it, I had been doing well. And I saw some progress last week, a tiny budge in the scale. But when I tried to go shopping for some new clothes, nothing fit, I was between sizes and everything was just “off”- can’t quite describe it. Just that everything was either too big, too small and all of it was unflattering. So it was a waste, in every sense.
I feel like I am on the brink of some change- but also that I am squarely where I always have been and always will be. The free floating anxiety I feel, I think, is related to this idea in my head that if I can just grab hold of all the things I want to do and get them accomplished I’ll feel at peace- comforted by the fact that I have taken control of things. But on the other hand, I wonder, am I just fooling myself by thinking I’ll feel better when it’s all done? The pile will always be there, after all. But even as I write that I rebel, because I want all of those things and I want to do them myself, I don’t want anyone else to do them for me, I want to feel that I accomplished those things. I started a new routine of riding to work and around town. I got my garden looking neat, organized but also whimsical. I changed my weight with lapband surgery, I changed my life. Maybe all that anxiety exists because this something I feel driven to do?
Monday, April 13, 2009
Another glorious day
Yesterday took a turn for the rainy so I ended up cutting short my outdoor plans and reading instead, it was relaxing. So very relaxing. This four-day weekend is heavenly!
Except for one thing that's niggling at me. Am having a perfectly good night, have not binged all day, have not felt the need. In fact, I even turned down an opportunity to overeat. Then, we're watching a movie (the day the earth stood still- whoa, crappy) and I decide I want something sweet. We don't have anything sweet in the house. So I make toast. Four pieces of fucking toast. Slathered in butter, two with PB, 2 with honey. I mean come on. I told myself it wouldn't have happened if I had something sweet, but really, I didn't even believe that then, I certainly don't believe it now.
I could go on about that moment, but what's the point, I'll let it float into the ether- my best guess is that since I had been reading all day and kev asked me to watch a movie with him I said yes to make him happy and be close to him, but I really wanted to continue to read. So that feeling, of wanting to be close, near, involved and my desire to continue reading created a fissure- discomfort. Rather than express myself either way, I joined him for the movie (I also felt pressure because of the late fees and my stiffening shoulders). Something to think about for my next post.
Speaking of which, in my last post I said that I needed milestones throughout my day. I often feel as if I hit that 4:30 milestone, go to the gym (feel wiped clean) or home (feel disappointed in me for not gymming it) and then I have this sense of now what? We don't have cable anymore so I can't watch TV, I often feel too tired to do much of anything- or not so much tired as unmotivated (what's the point) and I end up going off the rails food and drink wise.
But as I was waking up this morning, I had a vision of myself that appealed to me. It was 8 pm and the sun was still out- just setting. I had an incense stick going- a big one and I was doing yoga and pilates out on the deck before bed. Nothing strenuous, slow, sinuous movement, hatha style. I was getting strong but also winding down, slowly, on my own. The minute I thought of it, I loved it. I loved the idea of future me, the me who doesn't use food or alcohol to relax- the me who is un-kinked and has a practice. Something she does, regardless of whether it's perfect or too slow, or too fast or not enough- it's something I do every day, just for me. No one is watching or judging, especially not me. And here's the thing. It has to be outside. On the deck, sometimes on the lawn. It cannot be inside. I'm inside all day, all the time. The whole point of this is to be outside, surrounded by trees, shrubs, birds, nature, quiet. I am in love with this idea. I want it to happen. I need something to bring me back to myself. Will begin tonight.
Before I go, must say I want to revisit the need for intimacy by doing what someone else wants and my anxiety about biking to work. I want to be the kind of person who bikes to work, but like all big things that I embark on (for me anyway) the more anxious I am, the more I need to do it- it's been the pattern throughout this journey. I was a nervous wreck before getting my regular bike. But the journey of learning to ride again, building up my strength so I could ride for 22 kilometers in hilly terrain, then riding with the dogs alongside me was very important. I took back a part of myself I had lost to being fat- to shutting down, to a nervous break down I'd had for over a decade. Biking to work is the next step. And I know that. I don't bike on my regular bike as much as I'd like because of the dogs- I know skittles loves to ride alongside and runkie likes to be in his basket, but it's so much work! (it's hard to control skittles and when other bikes come by she's a danger to them and herself so it's not exactly responsible dog ownership- and runkie in the basket is like having baby beluga hanging off the front of my bike). So biking to work is a guilt free way of getting some biking in, getting to work, getting some exercise, and being in my body for a period of time every day without having any competing needs/responsibilities. I mean, I have to get to work, don't I?
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Yesterday was a great day, today will be, too
I didn't expect yesterday to be so great, but it was. After I finished up my post I took Skittles to the park and tossed her ball around for her. I also climbed up some playground equipment. I liked using the bars to climb up- I didn't even do that as a kid, too scared! Then I came home and did a kettellbell workout. But by then the clouds had blown away and the sun was out and it suddenly got warm- about 60-65 degrees! The timing was perfect, I was already in my workout clothes and committed, so I went out on the deck. I had my ipod on, and I could see neighbours through the trees, kids playing in forts but I didn't let the idea that people would see me doing something new, stop me. I just went for it.
I did 48 swings, 48 snatches, 48 crossbodies and then some other stuff that's a bit more advanced-mostly calisthenics (pushups, planks). It lasted an hour and today my legs ache- in that good way that lets you know you accomplished something. But I even feel it in my shoulders, my upper back, my calves. The only thing that doesn't ache is my core- I was too blown to do any pilates and by that time I brought Runkie out on the deck and he wanted to cuddle. I decided the universe had decided my w/o was finis.
I wanted to go out on the deck and do some pilates and yoga today, so I don't stiffen up, but its raining. I can already see though how much more appealing exercise is when you can do it outside. Hopefully the weather will improve soon.
Anyway, after the workout I took the dogs with Kevin to see a friend and her dog. They played, except for Runkie, he doesn't really consider himself a dog and finds their doggie ways tiresome. We came home, I read on the deck on my chaise lounge (love that thing, will love it even more now that I can use it more) with a glass of wine. Around six I started making my prawn risotto (delicious) and then I went to M's house for a visit. It was so good seeing her, she gets me and I get her; and she's the only person who really knows what happened at ABC – she was there and got just as burned. Thank god we didn't have to go through our ABC period alone, she really pushed me to see it wasn't me and I hope I reminded her that she was (and is) a good person.
Bike related news flash
In other news, I contacted someone about buying her electric, pedal assisted bike. She's not in town until Thursday, so I'll have to wait. I love my regular bike, a lot, but because I am who I am, I don't feel entirely comfortable riding it in traffic. It's quite hilly here in Victoria- you notice it the most when you're cycling. Plus, when you're at an intersection and need to signal a turn and keep pedaling it's fucking hard, I always feel like a gimp because it's hard for me to start and stop because of my knees, so if I can have a bike that gives me some power, then why not? I can start riding to work like I've always wanted. That will be awesome. No more smelly loser cruiser for me!
I haven't worked out the shower thing after I ride to work- but I got my hair cut on Thursday (love it) and it's pretty easy to style and I have a locker at the gym at work and I've showered there before, so I'm over that particular hurdle. I just don't look forward to having two sets of everything. There's a hair dryer there, but I need a straightener.
But none of that is a deal breaker, I can make it work.
Let's get all planny in here
So it's official, I plan on getting the lap band in August. I called to book the surgery. Kevin and I are discussing the pros and cons of staying an extra day, as I hate flying. As I write this, I am trying to get the information about a nurse here who does fills. But I can't get into the WLS forum. Fuck. I'd like to get that settled. If I can't find someone close by to do fills I might not be able to do the whole surgery.
Post-op eating. I think the first while can happen quite naturally- you can't eat normally and you feel full and it's the honeymoon period so your okay with liquids and then purees. My concern is after the honeymoon- when I'm doing solids and the novelty has worn off and I really want to blow off some steam. Then what? But that's why I'm doing this. Because I want/need some restrictive mechanism in place that can stop me when I can't. It was scary to see that despite losing all that weight and enjoying that weight loss so much I gained 20 lbs back, and so quickly and easily, because as much as I liked being thinner, I wasn't able to stop myself from coping with food. Despite everything I'd learned about nutrition and my body- I still reverted back. So my thinking is that if I have something in place, something bigger than just me I can let it do the work. Let it keep me in check. God, I'd love to eat everything in sight, really I would, but I can't, I have this lap-band, you see, and…
Your best friend for bingeing
Onto other topics, I'll get planny later, I have also been noticing, of late, that when my gf's really want to pack it away, drinking or eating wise, they call me. So, okay, they eat compulsively, too and maybe I've gained a reputation for being "up for it." That last sentence in the paragraph above got me to thinking of this. I feel pressured lately to eat with my friends, to join them in their eating/snacking/drinking. Drinking I usually want to do and don't need to be prompted- though I wasn't always like that. But eating, a lot of the time I would prefer to peck and stick with my goals, but I don't want to draw attention to myself. I don't want people to think I am getting ahead of myself, or "uppity". I know, I know. Everyone has to have this conversation with themselves at some point, especially if they're a big girl, and, they're trying to lose weight. I know I can't, shouldn't, eat to make my friends comfortable with their choices (I guess I also don't want them to be uncomfortable, there's nothing worse than when you really want to chow down and the other person is pecking, you feel like you're out of control). And I know it's not my job to make anyone else comfortable with their food choices. But then again, part of being friends is shared experiences and I always fear missing out on those moments. I didn't really have real friendships until the last couple of years and I like the intimacy of those moments of hedonism where we've almost made a pact to enjoy the food on our plates to the point of debauchery ;-)
But when I have the surgery, I won't be able to join along. I will have one glass of wine, maybe some cheese or meat and then that's it. I can't eat and drink like that anymore. Am I sad to miss out on those pleasures? Yes, of course. But I am also sad to get dressed every morning and find my clothes are too tight. And I remember how it felt, those fleeting days when I was a bit thinner, and picking clothes was fun, and I want that pleasure back.
Back to the bike
The other thing I like about the idea of the bike is milestones. I'm getting better at removing myself emotionally from work- detaching. And I find I break my day off into chunks. Right now it's as follows:
- Morning Chunk: Get up, get showered, have breakfast and head out. This is mostly pleasurable.
- Ride bus to work. I don't hate the bus by any means, but I can't relax. My face contorts into what I hope is blank passivity (long standing issue of mine- controlling my facial expression). So the weird thing is, even though I bring all my focus to relaxing my facial muscles, I also end up feeling stiff and as if I have been clenching my jaws for hours. Plus, being crammed in next to another person makes my shoulders ache (can't relax).
- Ride bus to work. I don't hate the bus by any means, but I can't relax. My face contorts into what I hope is blank passivity (long standing issue of mine- controlling my facial expression). So the weird thing is, even though I bring all my focus to relaxing my facial muscles, I also end up feeling stiff and as if I have been clenching my jaws for hours. Plus, being crammed in next to another person makes my shoulders ache (can't relax).
- Morning work chunk: Blah blah blah, must make it to my first milestone, 10 am coffee
- 10 am coffee, walk outside, cool air zinging, brisk walk, coffee, a little piece of realness in a fake world
- 10 am coffee, walk outside, cool air zinging, brisk walk, coffee, a little piece of realness in a fake world
- Lunch- second milestone- catch up with the girls. I would like to take walks but I feel tied down to lunch. Another time.
- 3:30, third milestone, definitely a lesser milestone. Have my 3:30 snack. It isn't as nice as coffee but it signals the beginning of the end of the work day.
- 4th milestone, work ends, time for gym. Sometimes its hard to go, sometimes I don't. But I do it because I feel cleansed afterwards, purged of all that silliness of the day and back in myself, feeling whole.
- Bus ride home, face hurts
- Bus ride home, face hurts
- Home- now what?
But if I rode a bike to work it would be more like this:
- Ride to work on bike. First milestone. Don't have to worry about my face. Listen to tunes. Zoom through cool morning air, warmed by pedaling. Only my thoughts, clear headed, quiet, reflective, at peace.
- 10 am coffee, second milestone, walk outside, cool air zinging, brisk walk, coffee, a little piece of realness in a fake world
- Lunch- third milestone- catch up with the girls. I would like to take walks but I feel tied down to lunch. Another time.
- 3:30, fourth milestone, definitely a lesser milestone. Have my 3:30 snack. It isn't as nice as coffee, but it signals the beginning of the end of the work day.
- Fifth milestone, time for gym. It's always better when I go to the gym, even better than skipping out and heading home. More of a milestone.
- Sixth milestone. If I've been to the gym then the roads will be less congested, I will have to build up endurance to w/o and be able to ride home, but I think I can do that pretty quickly. I'd have to change my routine to do less cardio and less weight for a while to build up my capacity, but within a month or two I could be back to 1.5 hr workouts followed by a ride home. I could amble along, take the long way home. It wouldn't be exercise, rather, a pleasure. My own time, to myself, feeling scraped hollow by exercise. Will probably have to learn to manage hunger and start drinking more protein shakes again so I don't come home ravenous.
- Home- now what?
Note to self
Next time I need to address "home-now what" major issue with my bingeing.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Recommitted
Yesterday's calories: 2500
No exercise
I think we have or hopefully, had, (emphasis on past tense) some kind of virus yesterday. So we didn't accomplish much. Kevin and I both felt kind of tired and torpid the whole day and aside from getting some chores done, we didn't do much else. Total pajama day.
But today, well, I have big plans for today. I want to take Skittles to the park and toss her ball and then come back and do a kettellbell workout.
Before I start getting all "planny" though and mapping out my day in detail, I need to share more about this recommitment.
In early August, I have scheduled a lap band surgery. I did the research and I have waited for two years for the gastric bypass as my back-up and this year, having gained back 20 lbs due to compulsive eating (exercise is on target) I feel like I am at a cross roads. I could wait another two years for a bypass, I could continue to try and get to the root of the compulsive eating and "stem the tide" or I could take more drastic steps. Trust me, I don't like the idea of taking drastic steps (and yet I kind of do, for their definitiveness) but either way I just need this to end, soon.
Gaining back 20lbs has been hard. I know it's attributable in no small part to the situation at ABC and how betrayed I felt. I know NN's behavior made me feel unsafe, I know my new job contributed to my sense of "there has to be something wrong with me" and all of that resulted in a lot of turmoil. And that turmoil got to be unbearable, especially after I started the new job and felt that the red mark against me had followed me, because "there's obviously something wrong with me."
So I ate. My portion control slipped away, many of the habits I had developed were tested to their limits, pushed past effectiveness and then just dropped altogether. The new ingrained habits with food that I thought would be with me forever morphed back into my old habits. So subtly. I still use skim milk, but I used to avoid all processed foods and sugars, (even fake sugar), now I'll dump a splenda in my coffee and when things are feeling a little crappy I'll get a muffin- even though I have a healthy snack back at the office.
I was still exercising (I did go through a period of inactivity, too). But the exercise couldn't take the brunt of the overeating and just ameliorate it. So even though I am fit, I am getting fatter and it's hurting my joints A LOT to be working out as much as I do, with 20 extra pounds. It's almost as if I have the fitness capacity of someone who is a very fit 250 lbs (unusually fit for that size, not bragging, but I do workout 3-5x a week for 1.5 hrs) with 20 extra lbs strapped on my back at all times. My knees are especially feeling it.
That and there's the matter of clothing. I don't know what size I am. I do know that it's not the size of most of the clothes hanging in my fucking closet, that's for sure. It is beyond upsetting to get ready in the morning and realize my boobs don't fit into my bra, they're spilling over and if I tuck them in to avoid spillage, my nipples are in a weird spot. So I have the unenviable decision to make: nipples very askew, or check throughout the day for spillage and adjust as needed. Yes, I could get a new bra, get fitted and try to make this work, but here's the thing I learned when I weighed less: There comes a point where my bra size gets so big that comfort, support, control, shaping are no longer options- when they're this big a bra just serves to contain them, it can't really deliver on all those other things most women take for granted with their bras. (I have ordered new bras, but since I am so large busted they have to be ordered via the internet and they're on back order- oh, and they're expensive). But when I weighed 250 lbs I did have those options and I felt so feminine and refined, and I miss that so much. I miss slipping on a bra and watching my boobs take on the classic feminine shape of breasts. (They're so big they sag without support, even at 250).
But getting back to clothes. My clothes don't fit. I have a camel toe once again because my pants are all too tight. A lot of the stuff I had from Ricki's, my cute sweaters, don't fit anymore. My tummy is much too big, it muffins up and spills out way too much. I am so depressed about it I don't feel like going out and getting new pants and tops. I am mad, I had finally started amassing a wardrobe I liked and was proud of and now I can't wear it. I can only wear the weird clothes on the margins. Great.
When I weighed less, for the first time in my life I felt like I was part of the "girl world". I took pleasure in finding clothes and dressing up. I felt pretty for the first time. I knew that people thought I was fat, very fat, but I felt as if I'd accomplished something and for the first time I had a sense of confidence and "okayness" that I thought no one could take away. Sadly no one did take it away, I mean no one outside of me. I took what happened at ABC as a confirmation of my secret fear that there was, is, and always will be, something that is very wrong with me. I know this belief is a direct result of all the sexual abuse I lived through as a child and when you add in the sexual issues of the situation, it, of course, makes a lot of sense I would feel as unraveled, exposed and unsafe as I did. In other words, betrayed and used.
When I look back on it now I see their machinations as plain as day, and I see my own culpability and humanness (Oh no, I called my boss a useless pants load in an e-mail, evil!!!! And I took a day off during the sexual harassment investigation and lied and said I had a stomach flu, gee, that's just totally inexplicable, couldn't imagine a person feeling stressed that their co-worker had said some disgusting shit to them, lied about it and was being investigated and the other person [me] needed a day away from the office!) but man, they knew exactly how to push my buttons and manipulate me. My fear of authority, my need to be accepted and loved, my desire for validation- exploited.
But it was an experience that taught me something very valuable, about myself, about life. And I think only now am I starting to take it to heart and apply it and integrate it into my personal system. Work is not an extended family. Just that. No one there is really your friend, a family member or replacement for those things. Sometimes you'll make true friends, but that's not why you're there. When I started at NIF I told myself I wouldn't get caught up in the social world. I'd keep to myself, and I didn't. I got very close with Ad, Lady and T. And I don't regret that. But because I was still traumatized from ABC I think I turned it into a very co-dependent relationship without healthy boundaries. So when I leave there, I really will follow my own advice and keep a distance between me and my colleagues.
The bad side of that friendship is that I reinforced their emotional struggles with the system, and they did the same for me. We reinforced the belief with each other that there should be some kind of common code of decency, and we waxed in vain about the lack of compassion and respect with which we were treated. We shared our personal humiliations about un-tolerable situations and behavior and comforted one another. And unfortunately, there were so many examples of callous and unthinking behavior we never ran or will run out of material with which to commiserate. Nothing wrong with that, right? No. Not really.
And yet, yes. There is something wrong with it. Because we just spin our wheels. We're powerless, and we know it. And we sit and discuss the things that happen when someone with power wields it over us and we feel shitty as a result.
But there's a freedom in the situation that I hadn't quite grasped until now.
We are powerless. And we know it.
I was always so busy trying to get a little power, so I could insulate myself against other people's power struggles, that I bought into it all. I cared when they swung their dicks around and slapped me across the face. I thought it meant I was weak, and they were demonstrating their power and I could either be a sniveling victim, or swing back (or just lie in wait until I could swing back!).
I'd get stepped on, used and most upsetting for me, anyway, have my time royally wasted (in this job anyway). And I kept trying to make it right. I kept trying to make them see me as a person, I kept trying to stand up to them, I keep trying to do the work the way it should be, thoroughly, I keep trying to own my work, to have integrity and actually teach them to treat me with respect. I kept trying to change the system.
Which is a losing battle. Not to mention arrogant. As if I could change an entire system! As if I could make someone who is 50 years old see me as an expert! What hubris! Who cares. If she wants to burn herself out and take all my decision making, autonomy and "expertise" from me, then so be it. I don't need it. Do I even have expertise? I don't know.
I am powerless. And I know it. And I'm embracing it. I'm not fighting it anymore and I'm not going to try and make them see me as someone who could run with the pack- I don't care if they accept me now and I don't have any desire to get them to ask me to join them, to recognize me as competent.
And it's not coming from a place of malicious obedience (you want a briefing note, I'll give you a fucking briefing note, cuntasauraus). No, I will continue to deliver on responsibilities. I will turn my work in on time and make it as good as I can. But I won't care anymore. And I don't mean "won't care" in the toddler temper tantrum sense. But I won't be attached to the outcome. One thing this position has taught me is humility. Invariably, what I send in will be sent back with 30 incomprehensible changes. One or two may be valid (imho) the rest pretty pointless. And from there on in it will continue, back and forth, back and forth. Late. Out of date. Not timely. And then pushed through into action. And that too, will change again and again and again and so I will spend most of days doing, then undoing the same thing, over and over.
Because the reality is, I am powerless. And I know that trying to change the system is a losing battle. And I don't have the time or energy to wage that war anymore.
Now that I have given up (it's a new thing) I feel better. I have to fight the bad moments, when common sense grips and I wonder why I am doing and then undoing and then redoing the same thing, over and over. But then who cares? None of the stuff we do actually matters. So who cares if one project is particularly shitty over another? It's all just pensionable time!
So what does any of this have to do with my desire to recommit? Everything and nothing. I am ready for a change, I am ready to stop putting energy into my professional life (altho I am taking a certification course next year) and I am ready to take care of myself. I have been avoiding taking care of myself because my thoughts go something like this: if they don't care about me, I will make them care about me, notice me and respect me and when they do, I will, too. That's no way to live. I can't handle that for much longer.
I'm taking matters into my own hands. I am devising a plan. I love plans. I want an electric bike so I can ride to work and get over hills and feel safer in traffic. I want to have that surgery in August. I want to start offering myself some thing soft when I get home from work so I don't feel the need to binge- something pleasurable. I want to make this belly a little smaller so I can fit into the clothes hanging in my closet. I want to have more energy. I want to do that course next year. I want to start trying to have a baby in the new year. I want to enjoy this. I am recommitted to me. And right now, that means exercise and safe, trusting relationship with food.
Plans for today:
Skittles- park
Kettelbell w/o
Look for electric bike or converter kit for my bike
Find nurse who does fills
Hem curtains
Make soup
nails
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Over and Over like a monkey with a miniature cymbol
So right now I am in the unenviable position of feeling as though no matter what I eat, it leads to weight gain. Eating sensibly leads to weight gain and being out of control leads to weight gain. Right now, all food seems to be the enemy.
Whenever I eat, especially at night after work, I have this voice in my head saying, “You keep gaining weight. It keeps creeping up, you’re working out but your portions have slowly started getting bigger again. And no matter what you do, you keep getting fatter. So you might as well enjoy this meal, the weight gain is inevitable.”
The end result is that I have an epic struggle with food- should I eat a small, healthy meal (bland, pointless, will only eat more later anyway) or should I just have exactly what I want in the quantity I want, especially since gaining back the lost weight seems, ahem… inevitable?
Sometimes one side wins, sometimes the other. But one thing is certain, I do keep getting fatter. And this argument in my head is driving me over the edge.
# 1 “You keep gaining weight”- well this is true. I do keep gaining weight. Since last year I have gained about 20-22 lbs.
# 2 “It keeps creeping up”- also true. At first it shot up to 258, then 263, 265, 267 and now it’s around 275. The number keeps going up and I keep trying to stay calm.
# 3 “Your working out” – I am w/o and I have seen more muscle tone and definition, but my eating is undermining weight loss. Scarily, if I weren’t working out I would probably gain even more weight.
# 4 “Your portion sizes have slowly started getting bigger again” – also true. Since I started gaining weight I have found my portions, especially in the evenings and now even at lunch, have gotten larger. But then I ask myself if a sandwich and veggies is too much? I don’t think so. But… It seemed like my portions were smaller at BCA. Dinner is definitely bigger. And junkier. When I was losing weight I used to leave food on my plate, now I don’t. I’ve tried going back to smaller plates, etc etc etc but fuck, it just keeps happening. I know it’s me doing it, duh, and I know it undermines my weight loss but I feel compelled to add another scoop, to have a little more than what I need.
# 5 “No matter what you do, you keep getting fatter” – well unfortunately, that’s also true. Sure, a couple of days of being comfortable around food and eating well don’t guarantee weight loss, I know that, but it could a little! But the uncomfortable days around food are outweighing all else and so yes, despite strenuous effort on my part, I am gaining.
# 6 “So you might as well enjoy this meal, the weight gain is inevitable” – youch, this is the one that hurts the most. It feels kind of stabby. It hurts because seeing it in bold print is so sad, as if I’m really saying to myself, ‘I’m sorry that a fattening, calorie laden dinner that you won’t really remember and will regret 3 minutes after you eat it is the best I can offer you in the way of enjoyment. And oh yeah, you’ll getting fatter too, right away, so it’s a long term punishment for a short term pleasure. But go ahead, enjoy your meal.”
Fuck, that really does hit the nail on the head. How disappointing to waste my life on that struggle. Basically, I can eat too much to deal with life which is genuinely sucky, or I can… what? Suffer? Either way though, it leads to suffering. The original suffering, and then the suffering of gaining weight and being fat(ter).
What can I do?
Right now, I’m asking myself if I need to add the suffering, guilt, regret and recrimination that will result if I eat too much at dinner to the equation tonight. The answer is no. But I do want the option of drinking a glass of wine.
What about tomorrow? I’ll have people over and we’ll be having fun. Should I eat with them, or no? When I was losing weight I looked for healthy options in the midst of events like that but still partook. Can I find that balance again?
Whenever I eat, especially at night after work, I have this voice in my head saying, “You keep gaining weight. It keeps creeping up, you’re working out but your portions have slowly started getting bigger again. And no matter what you do, you keep getting fatter. So you might as well enjoy this meal, the weight gain is inevitable.”
The end result is that I have an epic struggle with food- should I eat a small, healthy meal (bland, pointless, will only eat more later anyway) or should I just have exactly what I want in the quantity I want, especially since gaining back the lost weight seems, ahem… inevitable?
Sometimes one side wins, sometimes the other. But one thing is certain, I do keep getting fatter. And this argument in my head is driving me over the edge.
# 1 “You keep gaining weight”- well this is true. I do keep gaining weight. Since last year I have gained about 20-22 lbs.
# 2 “It keeps creeping up”- also true. At first it shot up to 258, then 263, 265, 267 and now it’s around 275. The number keeps going up and I keep trying to stay calm.
# 3 “Your working out” – I am w/o and I have seen more muscle tone and definition, but my eating is undermining weight loss. Scarily, if I weren’t working out I would probably gain even more weight.
# 4 “Your portion sizes have slowly started getting bigger again” – also true. Since I started gaining weight I have found my portions, especially in the evenings and now even at lunch, have gotten larger. But then I ask myself if a sandwich and veggies is too much? I don’t think so. But… It seemed like my portions were smaller at BCA. Dinner is definitely bigger. And junkier. When I was losing weight I used to leave food on my plate, now I don’t. I’ve tried going back to smaller plates, etc etc etc but fuck, it just keeps happening. I know it’s me doing it, duh, and I know it undermines my weight loss but I feel compelled to add another scoop, to have a little more than what I need.
# 5 “No matter what you do, you keep getting fatter” – well unfortunately, that’s also true. Sure, a couple of days of being comfortable around food and eating well don’t guarantee weight loss, I know that, but it could a little! But the uncomfortable days around food are outweighing all else and so yes, despite strenuous effort on my part, I am gaining.
# 6 “So you might as well enjoy this meal, the weight gain is inevitable” – youch, this is the one that hurts the most. It feels kind of stabby. It hurts because seeing it in bold print is so sad, as if I’m really saying to myself, ‘I’m sorry that a fattening, calorie laden dinner that you won’t really remember and will regret 3 minutes after you eat it is the best I can offer you in the way of enjoyment. And oh yeah, you’ll getting fatter too, right away, so it’s a long term punishment for a short term pleasure. But go ahead, enjoy your meal.”
Fuck, that really does hit the nail on the head. How disappointing to waste my life on that struggle. Basically, I can eat too much to deal with life which is genuinely sucky, or I can… what? Suffer? Either way though, it leads to suffering. The original suffering, and then the suffering of gaining weight and being fat(ter).
What can I do?
Right now, I’m asking myself if I need to add the suffering, guilt, regret and recrimination that will result if I eat too much at dinner to the equation tonight. The answer is no. But I do want the option of drinking a glass of wine.
What about tomorrow? I’ll have people over and we’ll be having fun. Should I eat with them, or no? When I was losing weight I looked for healthy options in the midst of events like that but still partook. Can I find that balance again?
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