Tonight was my sixth and final birthday celebration. Yes, I ended up having a birthweek rather than a birthday this year, but it felt really good to be acknowledged by so many friends and family members. I think that everyone felt badly for me having such a shitty year in 2010 and wanted to make up for my broken leg by making sure I had a good time. Which I did! This was definitely one of my best birthdays.
I'm also happy that I did pretty well with eating. I had some alcohol and a lot of food on my actual birthday, but I didn't go overboard with cake or candy, or anything like that.
This evening, I went out with Scott for dinner. I had chicken with veggies, fries and salad, but we were talking the whole time, so I only ended up eating about half of my meal. That was fine, though, as I felt full, but not stuffed.
Scott also noticed that I'm having an easier time walking. Now that the snow has melted somewhat, it's easier for me to navigate the sidewalks, but I also know that losing weight, even just a few pounds, has helped tremendously. I can now walk a few blocks before I have to stop and sit down, as opposed to just a few feet.
After I walked Scott to the train, I'd planned to take the bus the rest of the way. But after sitting at the stop for about 10 minutes, I was getting cold and realized that I had to pee, so I walked the rest of the way home. It wasn't a long walk, only 10 minutes or so, but I'm proud of myself for doing it. Plus, it was a nice night and it felt good to be outside.
I'm glad that it's February and we're getting closer to spring. This winter has been awful for me, but I'm looking forward to being active when the warmer weather hits. Last spring, I was in a wheelchair. I'd like this spring to be as happy as this year's birthday.
Showing posts with label binge eating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label binge eating. Show all posts
Monday, February 7, 2011
Friday, August 20, 2010
The Things I Did For Food
Joined Karen for Tex-Mex tonight. I got my usual dish -- veggie fajitas with broccoli, cauliflower, squash and peppers, but what's interesting is that I was craving it all day. Me craving vegetables; did you ever imagine?
During dinner, I showed Karen some of my old student IDs and driver's licencses that I still keep in my wallet and she could hardly believe how skinny I used to be. In her opinion, I was too skinny, even in my college ID, where I weighed about 115 pounds. She said that she liked the one of me from my senior year of college the best -- when I weighed about 140.
It's pretty telling that I can recall my life by my various weights rather than by just my memories. I'd like to change that. I'd like to be able to look at old photos of myself and think, "That's from when I was 40, the year that Jon and I went to Thailand," rather than, "That's from when I was 38 and weighed 220." This reinforces how much prominence my weight and food have had in my life and I'd like well, my LIFE, to be the central focus.
That said, I confided in Karen about some of the inane things I did for food when I was a kid, like steal packages of cookies from the back of the pantry or raid my friends' kitchens. The thing I'm probably the most ashamed of, though, is lying to my grandmother.
My mother's mother was a tiny woman, about 4'5" and sweet as anything. She was so naive and protective and literally used to make me wear my gloves and hat in 70 degree weather. She never had an unking word to say about anyone except when she was watching her soap, GUIDING LIGHT. Then she'd call the show's villainess a "snot nose," which trust me, was pretty racy stuff for my grandmother!
Anyway, when I was in the fifth grade, I went through a dark period where Istole a lot. I swiped earrings from friends, money from my parents and even shoplifted a couple of things from the mall ... and I stole from my grandma.
Toward the end of the year, my friend Lani and another girl in our neighborhood invited me to take a walk with them to this nearby deli. It was only a mile away from my home, but it was on a main road and I knew that my parents wouldn't want me walking all the way there without an adult. Still, I was 11, my parents weren't yet home from work, and dammit, I wanted to go! Unfortunately, I knew that if I asked my grandmother, she'd freak out. I mean, she became nervous when I went on my swing set.
Therefore, Lani helped me come up with a lie and I told my grandma that I was going to the mall with Lani's mom for school supplies. This was ridiculous because school was almost over, but my grandmother bought the story and gave me the OK. She also gave me $10 to buy my things.
With our money in hand, the three of us then made the trek to the deli. There, we gorged on pizza, cake and all sorts of other crap that they sold there. We were practically high from ingesting so much salt and sugar. We knew that our parents wouldn't approve of us sneaking over there, so we made a pact that we'd never tell anyone about our journey. I actually kept my promise for a very long time.
My grandma died when I was 13 and by that time, I wasn't interested in stuffing my face with junk. A couple of years later, I went through my scary skinny period and well, you know most of the rest. But I've always felt badly about tricking such a wonderful, trusting woman ... and for what? Shitty pizza and packaged cookies. Yeah, I was only a kid, but even then, I put food before my family. I suppose I can argue that part of me wanting to get away had to do with me being a pre-teen and wanting to have an adventure, but no, I can assure you that I was just going for the food. I think that for the entire walk over there, I was babbling about everything that I was going to eat.
I eventually 'fessed up about the lie when I was about 15 (I wasn't kidding about keeping the secret for a long time) and Lani sort of laughed at me, saying that she had told her parents years before and they hadn't cared. It still haunts me, though. No, it wasn't THAT bad a thing to do -- I mean, you should hear some of my husband and father's stories about the things they did as kids -- but I still feel dirty. The way I acted was like I was on drugs or something; I lied to a loved one, took her money and then stuffed myself numb with treats. Nice.
I'm a mostly honest person these days, save for a white lie now and then, but I wish my grandmother were alive so I could tell her the truth -- and give her back her $10. Karen says that she's sure that my grandmother forgives me, wherever she is, and she's probably right. My grandma wasn't the type of person to hold a grudge.
I, too, forgive myself for being young and foolish, but I also don't want to forget about it because it's important that I remind myself how destructive binge eating can be. I haven't taken money from anyone else for food, but I have done other shameful things like eat in secret or even take uneaten food out of the trash when no one was looking.
Food isn't something to be ashamed of, though. It's not something to hide or hide from. It's just well, food. But the memories you create from spending time with friends or family are a lot more fleeting. I don't ever want to put food before them again.
During dinner, I showed Karen some of my old student IDs and driver's licencses that I still keep in my wallet and she could hardly believe how skinny I used to be. In her opinion, I was too skinny, even in my college ID, where I weighed about 115 pounds. She said that she liked the one of me from my senior year of college the best -- when I weighed about 140.
It's pretty telling that I can recall my life by my various weights rather than by just my memories. I'd like to change that. I'd like to be able to look at old photos of myself and think, "That's from when I was 40, the year that Jon and I went to Thailand," rather than, "That's from when I was 38 and weighed 220." This reinforces how much prominence my weight and food have had in my life and I'd like well, my LIFE, to be the central focus.
That said, I confided in Karen about some of the inane things I did for food when I was a kid, like steal packages of cookies from the back of the pantry or raid my friends' kitchens. The thing I'm probably the most ashamed of, though, is lying to my grandmother.
My mother's mother was a tiny woman, about 4'5" and sweet as anything. She was so naive and protective and literally used to make me wear my gloves and hat in 70 degree weather. She never had an unking word to say about anyone except when she was watching her soap, GUIDING LIGHT. Then she'd call the show's villainess a "snot nose," which trust me, was pretty racy stuff for my grandmother!
Anyway, when I was in the fifth grade, I went through a dark period where Istole a lot. I swiped earrings from friends, money from my parents and even shoplifted a couple of things from the mall ... and I stole from my grandma.
Toward the end of the year, my friend Lani and another girl in our neighborhood invited me to take a walk with them to this nearby deli. It was only a mile away from my home, but it was on a main road and I knew that my parents wouldn't want me walking all the way there without an adult. Still, I was 11, my parents weren't yet home from work, and dammit, I wanted to go! Unfortunately, I knew that if I asked my grandmother, she'd freak out. I mean, she became nervous when I went on my swing set.
Therefore, Lani helped me come up with a lie and I told my grandma that I was going to the mall with Lani's mom for school supplies. This was ridiculous because school was almost over, but my grandmother bought the story and gave me the OK. She also gave me $10 to buy my things.
With our money in hand, the three of us then made the trek to the deli. There, we gorged on pizza, cake and all sorts of other crap that they sold there. We were practically high from ingesting so much salt and sugar. We knew that our parents wouldn't approve of us sneaking over there, so we made a pact that we'd never tell anyone about our journey. I actually kept my promise for a very long time.
My grandma died when I was 13 and by that time, I wasn't interested in stuffing my face with junk. A couple of years later, I went through my scary skinny period and well, you know most of the rest. But I've always felt badly about tricking such a wonderful, trusting woman ... and for what? Shitty pizza and packaged cookies. Yeah, I was only a kid, but even then, I put food before my family. I suppose I can argue that part of me wanting to get away had to do with me being a pre-teen and wanting to have an adventure, but no, I can assure you that I was just going for the food. I think that for the entire walk over there, I was babbling about everything that I was going to eat.
I eventually 'fessed up about the lie when I was about 15 (I wasn't kidding about keeping the secret for a long time) and Lani sort of laughed at me, saying that she had told her parents years before and they hadn't cared. It still haunts me, though. No, it wasn't THAT bad a thing to do -- I mean, you should hear some of my husband and father's stories about the things they did as kids -- but I still feel dirty. The way I acted was like I was on drugs or something; I lied to a loved one, took her money and then stuffed myself numb with treats. Nice.
I'm a mostly honest person these days, save for a white lie now and then, but I wish my grandmother were alive so I could tell her the truth -- and give her back her $10. Karen says that she's sure that my grandmother forgives me, wherever she is, and she's probably right. My grandma wasn't the type of person to hold a grudge.
I, too, forgive myself for being young and foolish, but I also don't want to forget about it because it's important that I remind myself how destructive binge eating can be. I haven't taken money from anyone else for food, but I have done other shameful things like eat in secret or even take uneaten food out of the trash when no one was looking.
Food isn't something to be ashamed of, though. It's not something to hide or hide from. It's just well, food. But the memories you create from spending time with friends or family are a lot more fleeting. I don't ever want to put food before them again.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Have A Nice Trip
This evening, I got one of those dreaded calls from my dad; my mom had been taken to the hospital after tripping and falling on her face. The bad news: she had to have a broken tooth fixed (and she just had dental surgery literally about three days ago). She also has a hairline fracture on her knee and will need to wear a brace. The good news: she doesn't have a concussion, doesn't need surgery and can walk on her leg, despite the injury. Also, she and my dad can still go on their trip in the fall.
I don't know what it is with my family and why we keep falling and breaking things. Two years ago, my mom broke her wrist while hiking in Patagonia; my dad fell and sprained his ankle while walking around Easter Island (at least their injuries were "exotic.") Then my grandmother fell and broke HER wrist; and then this year, my mom and I were injured. I guess we're just klutzy people ... or perhaps we are cursed. Maybe I should change the name of this site to BROKEN Thighs Of The Beholder.
This isn't really about me today, but to bring this back to the theme of this blog for a moment, I did not binge, even though I was tempted. I was very stressed as I waited for my dad to call with news about the X-rays, but I forced myself not to buy chocolate and instead had a sensible meal of grilled chicken and rice.
Getting back to my mom, though, I'm glad that she's okay. I'm especially glad that the doctor gave her the go-ahead on their trip because she would've been really disappointed if she'd had to miss that. However, I think my family has filled our quota of keeping orthopedists in business. I'm all for us taking a break from anymore bad breaks for the time being!
I don't know what it is with my family and why we keep falling and breaking things. Two years ago, my mom broke her wrist while hiking in Patagonia; my dad fell and sprained his ankle while walking around Easter Island (at least their injuries were "exotic.") Then my grandmother fell and broke HER wrist; and then this year, my mom and I were injured. I guess we're just klutzy people ... or perhaps we are cursed. Maybe I should change the name of this site to BROKEN Thighs Of The Beholder.
This isn't really about me today, but to bring this back to the theme of this blog for a moment, I did not binge, even though I was tempted. I was very stressed as I waited for my dad to call with news about the X-rays, but I forced myself not to buy chocolate and instead had a sensible meal of grilled chicken and rice.
Getting back to my mom, though, I'm glad that she's okay. I'm especially glad that the doctor gave her the go-ahead on their trip because she would've been really disappointed if she'd had to miss that. However, I think my family has filled our quota of keeping orthopedists in business. I'm all for us taking a break from anymore bad breaks for the time being!
Monday, August 16, 2010
Almost Famous
While I was growing up, I always kept a dream alive for those times when I felt alone or was picked on or thought that I was a freak: I'd tell myself that someday my differences would work for me and I'd be a great success. I'd make more money than the bullies who tormented me and would be a household name. I'd be famous -- and all of those people who'd ever treated me as if I were "less than" would be sorry.
Fast forward many years later and this dream still hasn't come true, at least not on the scale that I'd hoped for in my youth. I write for a well-known publication, play with a band and released a CD, but I'm most definitely not a household name. Until recently, this bothered me -- and I treated myself as if I were "less than" because I wasn't living up to some ridiculous goal that I set for myself when I was a kid.
Back in high school, I perforfmed with the band and orchestra -- and played three instruments, no less: the flute, tenor sax and clarinet. But as much as I loved music, I was in it for the awards that they gave out at school each year, and was disappointed when I didn't get anything.
Around 2003, I wrote a novel for teen readers. I was really proud of the work I did and managed to get a literary agent -- and almost sold it twice. But it wasn't quite right for what the editors of the various publishing houses seemed to want, and a sale never happened. I wrote a second novel -- which I liked -- but my agent hated it. She dumped me.
I was so bummed about this, not only because I believed in my work (and because rejection sucks), but because it was delaying my dream of becoming the next Judy Blume or Meg Cabot. I wanted to be an iconic author whom millions looked up to -- and whose work was turned into movies, like Harry Potter. I even knew which actors I wanted to cast as certain characters!
Having big goals is great, but when they become so big, anything else doesn't seem like it's worth much. Because I had this terrible attitude, I denied myself a lot of joy along the way -- the joy of playing music, the joy of writing. I was so into seeking others' approval that I saw myself as a "failure" and it left me bitter.
The point of this post is that I think this is yet another reason why I'm obese. Being full of regrets and disappointments has left many voids in my life -- and I often filled them with food. On those days when I realized I wouldn't be the Great American Novelist, I stuffed myself with cookies and during those times when I acknowledged that I wouldn't be a zillionaire, I crammed my mouth full of pizza or cereal. Then I'd have regrets about being fat and ugly and hopeless ... and the cycle would begin again.
The good news is, I've learned to let go of certain dreams and find new ones along the way. After getting so many rejections from publishers, I decided to complete a project just for fun -- just for ME -- and put together my CD. I'm not a rock star or anything like that and wasn't trying to be one, but I loved the challenge and had a great time producing the album. Only a handful of people have heard it, but I'm really proud of the work that I did -- and that's what matters. Not that I've never become as famous a flute player as James Gallway.
I've also taken my writing back and am finding the joy in that again. About a year ago, I began doing some online freelancing, where I write about any topic I want. I also started this blog. Again, not many people read my work, but I love writing and know that this blog has helped me a great deal with my weight loss.
That said, I'm concentrating on finding the joy in other things: being with friends, traveling, writing travelogues for my friends and family, singing karaoke ... I'm even thinking of taking some art classes. I doubt that any of these activities will give me great recognition, but I no longer care about that. As I get older, I'm learning to appreciate the simpler things in life -- as cliche as that may sound. I'm recognizing the many talents that I do have, even if my writing and musical skills aren't making national news.
Now that I'm letting go of those things that were weighing me down -- in ever sense -- I'm feeling lighter. I think it'll be only a matter of time before my body catches up with my mind.
Fast forward many years later and this dream still hasn't come true, at least not on the scale that I'd hoped for in my youth. I write for a well-known publication, play with a band and released a CD, but I'm most definitely not a household name. Until recently, this bothered me -- and I treated myself as if I were "less than" because I wasn't living up to some ridiculous goal that I set for myself when I was a kid.
Back in high school, I perforfmed with the band and orchestra -- and played three instruments, no less: the flute, tenor sax and clarinet. But as much as I loved music, I was in it for the awards that they gave out at school each year, and was disappointed when I didn't get anything.
Around 2003, I wrote a novel for teen readers. I was really proud of the work I did and managed to get a literary agent -- and almost sold it twice. But it wasn't quite right for what the editors of the various publishing houses seemed to want, and a sale never happened. I wrote a second novel -- which I liked -- but my agent hated it. She dumped me.
I was so bummed about this, not only because I believed in my work (and because rejection sucks), but because it was delaying my dream of becoming the next Judy Blume or Meg Cabot. I wanted to be an iconic author whom millions looked up to -- and whose work was turned into movies, like Harry Potter. I even knew which actors I wanted to cast as certain characters!
Having big goals is great, but when they become so big, anything else doesn't seem like it's worth much. Because I had this terrible attitude, I denied myself a lot of joy along the way -- the joy of playing music, the joy of writing. I was so into seeking others' approval that I saw myself as a "failure" and it left me bitter.
The point of this post is that I think this is yet another reason why I'm obese. Being full of regrets and disappointments has left many voids in my life -- and I often filled them with food. On those days when I realized I wouldn't be the Great American Novelist, I stuffed myself with cookies and during those times when I acknowledged that I wouldn't be a zillionaire, I crammed my mouth full of pizza or cereal. Then I'd have regrets about being fat and ugly and hopeless ... and the cycle would begin again.
The good news is, I've learned to let go of certain dreams and find new ones along the way. After getting so many rejections from publishers, I decided to complete a project just for fun -- just for ME -- and put together my CD. I'm not a rock star or anything like that and wasn't trying to be one, but I loved the challenge and had a great time producing the album. Only a handful of people have heard it, but I'm really proud of the work that I did -- and that's what matters. Not that I've never become as famous a flute player as James Gallway.
I've also taken my writing back and am finding the joy in that again. About a year ago, I began doing some online freelancing, where I write about any topic I want. I also started this blog. Again, not many people read my work, but I love writing and know that this blog has helped me a great deal with my weight loss.
That said, I'm concentrating on finding the joy in other things: being with friends, traveling, writing travelogues for my friends and family, singing karaoke ... I'm even thinking of taking some art classes. I doubt that any of these activities will give me great recognition, but I no longer care about that. As I get older, I'm learning to appreciate the simpler things in life -- as cliche as that may sound. I'm recognizing the many talents that I do have, even if my writing and musical skills aren't making national news.
Now that I'm letting go of those things that were weighing me down -- in ever sense -- I'm feeling lighter. I think it'll be only a matter of time before my body catches up with my mind.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Mad At The World
Ever have one of those days where you just WANT to be angry with something? This is how I'm feeling today. I'm just angry -- and I don't have PMS so I'm not sure exactly WHY I'm angry, which is freaking me out a little.
For the most part, I had a nice day. PT went really well this morning and I spent the rest of the day at my friend Scott's house, where he hosted a wonderful party. The weather was gorgeous, the food was great and the company was friendly ... but little things kept nagging at me all day and the more I tried to not think about them, the more they bugged.
For starters, the elevator at the train station wasn't working, so I had to lug my walker down about 30 steps. No one offered to help and when I called Scott to pick me up at the station, he didn't answer (turns out he was in the shower). So now I was angry with him, with the elevator and with the passersby for not helping someone who was obviously struggling.
A few minutes later, Scot sent a friend to pick me up, so no big deal, and I know that the elevator breaking was just something that happens. I should've been grateful to Scott for getting me a ride when he could've just said, "Take a cab," and I should've applauded myself for getting down those stairs by myself ... but all of these feelings started to bubble up.
Once at the house, I needed to use the restroom, but the upstairs one was occupied and the grout was drying in the downstairs one. Again, I found myself getting angry over something that wasn't the end of the world. In fact, I wanted to throw a tantrum like a toddler (I didn't!).
Finally, I sat down outside and enjoyed a nice grilled veggie sandwich, somke veggie chips and salads. I had a few cookies, but stopped myself before I went into a full-on binge (remember, cookies are my weakness). It was peaceful and I started to relax a bit. Still, I was plagued with doubts about things all day. I was disappointed that no one, including my parents, commented on my weight loss. I found myself wondering if I was being social enough, since it was difficult for me to stand around and mingle with my leg still weakened. I was happy to see my oldest friend, Lani, there ... but she spent much of the time talking to other guests and I became angry with her for "abandoning" me because again, I couldn't really get up and follow her as she stood with people and chatted. I was angry with my husband for arriving later than he'd planned, and then giving my parents a curt hello rather than enthusiastically greeting them with a hug and a kiss.
Again, I'm not sure why I have so many negative feelings today. If I sit back and really think about things, nothing really bad happened. Lani and my friend Suzanne both made sure that I had food all day and the Lani gave us a lift to the station at night, so it's not as if she really abandoned me. It was a party and not her fault that I can't move well; it wasn't up to her to babysit me all night. Meanwhile, my dad told me that he wants to take my husband out to thank him for taking care of me after my injury. Yes, Jon's "greeting" to my parents sucked and was kind of rude, but he's a good man who's done a lot for me. As for me being social, I think a lot of other people were being quiet, too -- and many of Scott's friends came over to say hello. I mean, I was there for nine hours; it wasn't like it was going to be a crazy party the entire time.
I think that perhaps part of the reason why I'm feeling so low is because I pushed myself so much this week. Going out every night probably wasn't such a smart thing to do during my first week back at work. Also, I think that just losing the weight is affecting my moods. My body is in total shock right now with everything that is happening to it and I'm sure that my hormones are in overdrive. Plus, I'm now being forced to feel things rather than numb myself with binges. I recently read a great weight loss memoir called Hungry by Allen Zadoff where he shared that as his pounds came off, all of his pent-up feelings which he'd been "eating" away started to come out -- and though he was a grown man, he'd act like a teenager. I suppose this is what's happening to me; I'm experiencing every hurt and regret all over again ... so that a small thing like a friend talking to someone else at a party turns into a replay of me being abanonded my a friend for the cool kids back in high school. Or people not noticing my weight loss reminds me of how I always felt unattractive. Since I started gaining weight when I was about 18, I guess I'm emotionally stuck in high school, and I need time to catch up to being 36.
I know it's better to actually feel angry than to quell the sensation with food, but it still sucks. Losing weight is meant to be a healthy thing and this emotional roller coaster I'm riding is an awful side effect. I hope that I can get it together before my emotions completely spiral out of control ... because watching a 36-year-old fat chick kick and scream like a two-year-old would be a very scary sight to behold.
For the most part, I had a nice day. PT went really well this morning and I spent the rest of the day at my friend Scott's house, where he hosted a wonderful party. The weather was gorgeous, the food was great and the company was friendly ... but little things kept nagging at me all day and the more I tried to not think about them, the more they bugged.
For starters, the elevator at the train station wasn't working, so I had to lug my walker down about 30 steps. No one offered to help and when I called Scott to pick me up at the station, he didn't answer (turns out he was in the shower). So now I was angry with him, with the elevator and with the passersby for not helping someone who was obviously struggling.
A few minutes later, Scot sent a friend to pick me up, so no big deal, and I know that the elevator breaking was just something that happens. I should've been grateful to Scott for getting me a ride when he could've just said, "Take a cab," and I should've applauded myself for getting down those stairs by myself ... but all of these feelings started to bubble up.
Once at the house, I needed to use the restroom, but the upstairs one was occupied and the grout was drying in the downstairs one. Again, I found myself getting angry over something that wasn't the end of the world. In fact, I wanted to throw a tantrum like a toddler (I didn't!).
Finally, I sat down outside and enjoyed a nice grilled veggie sandwich, somke veggie chips and salads. I had a few cookies, but stopped myself before I went into a full-on binge (remember, cookies are my weakness). It was peaceful and I started to relax a bit. Still, I was plagued with doubts about things all day. I was disappointed that no one, including my parents, commented on my weight loss. I found myself wondering if I was being social enough, since it was difficult for me to stand around and mingle with my leg still weakened. I was happy to see my oldest friend, Lani, there ... but she spent much of the time talking to other guests and I became angry with her for "abandoning" me because again, I couldn't really get up and follow her as she stood with people and chatted. I was angry with my husband for arriving later than he'd planned, and then giving my parents a curt hello rather than enthusiastically greeting them with a hug and a kiss.
Again, I'm not sure why I have so many negative feelings today. If I sit back and really think about things, nothing really bad happened. Lani and my friend Suzanne both made sure that I had food all day and the Lani gave us a lift to the station at night, so it's not as if she really abandoned me. It was a party and not her fault that I can't move well; it wasn't up to her to babysit me all night. Meanwhile, my dad told me that he wants to take my husband out to thank him for taking care of me after my injury. Yes, Jon's "greeting" to my parents sucked and was kind of rude, but he's a good man who's done a lot for me. As for me being social, I think a lot of other people were being quiet, too -- and many of Scott's friends came over to say hello. I mean, I was there for nine hours; it wasn't like it was going to be a crazy party the entire time.
I think that perhaps part of the reason why I'm feeling so low is because I pushed myself so much this week. Going out every night probably wasn't such a smart thing to do during my first week back at work. Also, I think that just losing the weight is affecting my moods. My body is in total shock right now with everything that is happening to it and I'm sure that my hormones are in overdrive. Plus, I'm now being forced to feel things rather than numb myself with binges. I recently read a great weight loss memoir called Hungry by Allen Zadoff where he shared that as his pounds came off, all of his pent-up feelings which he'd been "eating" away started to come out -- and though he was a grown man, he'd act like a teenager. I suppose this is what's happening to me; I'm experiencing every hurt and regret all over again ... so that a small thing like a friend talking to someone else at a party turns into a replay of me being abanonded my a friend for the cool kids back in high school. Or people not noticing my weight loss reminds me of how I always felt unattractive. Since I started gaining weight when I was about 18, I guess I'm emotionally stuck in high school, and I need time to catch up to being 36.
I know it's better to actually feel angry than to quell the sensation with food, but it still sucks. Losing weight is meant to be a healthy thing and this emotional roller coaster I'm riding is an awful side effect. I hope that I can get it together before my emotions completely spiral out of control ... because watching a 36-year-old fat chick kick and scream like a two-year-old would be a very scary sight to behold.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Big Steps
I made my second journey by myself today when I went to PT. However, this time, I found it so much easier to get downstairs on my own. After being so sore last week, I was concerned about what this would mean for my walking, but I felt good today. My leg feels stronger and my back is hurting less.
I confess, last night, I had a bit of a slip-up. My husband brought home a bag of soft-baked chocolate chip cookies -- which I loved -- and I ended up eating three before asking him to take the bag away. But it could've been worse. I LOVE cookies and they're one of my worst trigger foods, I guess, because they're so compact and you can't just eat one. I can deal with frozen yogurt or even cake being in the house, but if there are cookies, I'll eat an entire box in one setting. I'm going to let Jon know that we just can't keep those in the house. I've gotten better as mastering this whole idea of "everything in moderation," but when it comes to me and cookies, I almost always end up bingeing. The fact that I stopped myself from doing so yesterday is a big deal.
The good news is, I had a good session at PT today. After Saturday's sucky session, I was determined to kick some butt and felt like I did. I blew right through my standing leg exercises, which are getting pretty easy for me now. I used to have to rest in between exercising the right leg and the left, but now I can do 30 reps on each side without taking a break. I was all set to do step-ups and stretches, too, but they were being kind of cautious with me since my foot swelled up so much the other day. Still, I easily got up the steps in my building this morning, so I guess that counts for step-ups and I did some stretches on my own. I wish they'd challenge me a little more, but I understand that they have to be careful with patients and I can always challenge myself. I'm actually in the mood to do the BowFlex today, so I'll do that later this evening before dinner.
I'm glad that my leg is feeling stronger, but I'm really happy that my back is feeling better. It still hurts if I stand for too long, but I'm able to stand for longer periods of time now. I definitely think it's because I've lost a little weight. Granted, I'm still obese and have about eight chins, but even I can see the weight loss at this point. When I was looking in the mirror at PT this morning, I noticed that my stomach doesn't stick out nearly as much as it did a couple of weeks ago. Yeah, I still look fat, but at least I don't look pregnant! (pregnant women are beautiful, but I don't want people thinking that I am when I'm not).
Yesterday, I officially let my workplace know that I would be back in the office full-time, so let the countdown to Monday begin. I'm very nervous about surviving the commute, but am also excited to be back in the "real world." I can't believe that it's been four months already, since I broke my leg. What a crazy year it's been!
I confess, last night, I had a bit of a slip-up. My husband brought home a bag of soft-baked chocolate chip cookies -- which I loved -- and I ended up eating three before asking him to take the bag away. But it could've been worse. I LOVE cookies and they're one of my worst trigger foods, I guess, because they're so compact and you can't just eat one. I can deal with frozen yogurt or even cake being in the house, but if there are cookies, I'll eat an entire box in one setting. I'm going to let Jon know that we just can't keep those in the house. I've gotten better as mastering this whole idea of "everything in moderation," but when it comes to me and cookies, I almost always end up bingeing. The fact that I stopped myself from doing so yesterday is a big deal.
The good news is, I had a good session at PT today. After Saturday's sucky session, I was determined to kick some butt and felt like I did. I blew right through my standing leg exercises, which are getting pretty easy for me now. I used to have to rest in between exercising the right leg and the left, but now I can do 30 reps on each side without taking a break. I was all set to do step-ups and stretches, too, but they were being kind of cautious with me since my foot swelled up so much the other day. Still, I easily got up the steps in my building this morning, so I guess that counts for step-ups and I did some stretches on my own. I wish they'd challenge me a little more, but I understand that they have to be careful with patients and I can always challenge myself. I'm actually in the mood to do the BowFlex today, so I'll do that later this evening before dinner.
I'm glad that my leg is feeling stronger, but I'm really happy that my back is feeling better. It still hurts if I stand for too long, but I'm able to stand for longer periods of time now. I definitely think it's because I've lost a little weight. Granted, I'm still obese and have about eight chins, but even I can see the weight loss at this point. When I was looking in the mirror at PT this morning, I noticed that my stomach doesn't stick out nearly as much as it did a couple of weeks ago. Yeah, I still look fat, but at least I don't look pregnant! (pregnant women are beautiful, but I don't want people thinking that I am when I'm not).
Yesterday, I officially let my workplace know that I would be back in the office full-time, so let the countdown to Monday begin. I'm very nervous about surviving the commute, but am also excited to be back in the "real world." I can't believe that it's been four months already, since I broke my leg. What a crazy year it's been!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Getting A Grip
So far, I'm having a shitty day, to put things lightly. I think I've been overdoing my workouts because my ankle is all sore and swollen today. I had a difficult time getting it into my sneaker and it hurts to walk on it. That said, they only had me do stretches today at PT and recommend that I keep it elevated and take a break for the rest of the day. I realize that it's normal for muscles to get sore from exercise, especially when there are torn ligaments involved, but I was doing so well ... and now I'm not. It's frustrating. But I'll do what they say and trust that I'll be in even better shape by the time my muscles relax and heal.
Meanwhile, my husband and I had an encounter with a crazy cabby this morning. We've been using the same car service for years and they are always reliable. However, this particular cabby freaked out when he went to put my walker in the trunk and Jon said, "No, I got it." I don't know if it was Jon's tone or what that set him off, but all of a sudden, the driver started yelling at Jon and calling him crazy and threatening to beat him up! Then Jon started screaming back and I screamed because I just wanted my husband to walk away and not provoke him any further. My husband is a good guy, but he can be very hot-headed and his temper makes me nuts (even though the cabby was clearly the one who started it today). I wish that Jon would learn to just let things go. I know that I need to learn to be more confrontational, but he's sort of the opposite.
The cabby finally drove away and they sent us another car, but it was a big mess and I arrived at PT shaken and crying. I think that had I been there under different circumstances, I would've pushed through my sore leg, but I was just not mentally in the game today.
On top of this, I totally have PMS and am tired and cranky and crampy. But the good news is, I haven't binged. I kind of want to right now, but I'm writing in this blog instead and am hoping that I can clear my head by the time I sit down for breakfast. I have a bagel and some fruit and I'm going to eat that slowly and then stop. I'm resting with ice on my leg right now, so I'm going to just try to relax and let my foot heal itself.
Whew, I am a bit calmer now that I've written out some of my thoughts. I'm going to enjoy my breakfast, watch some sitcoms to cheer myself up and try to forget that this morning ever happened...
Meanwhile, my husband and I had an encounter with a crazy cabby this morning. We've been using the same car service for years and they are always reliable. However, this particular cabby freaked out when he went to put my walker in the trunk and Jon said, "No, I got it." I don't know if it was Jon's tone or what that set him off, but all of a sudden, the driver started yelling at Jon and calling him crazy and threatening to beat him up! Then Jon started screaming back and I screamed because I just wanted my husband to walk away and not provoke him any further. My husband is a good guy, but he can be very hot-headed and his temper makes me nuts (even though the cabby was clearly the one who started it today). I wish that Jon would learn to just let things go. I know that I need to learn to be more confrontational, but he's sort of the opposite.
The cabby finally drove away and they sent us another car, but it was a big mess and I arrived at PT shaken and crying. I think that had I been there under different circumstances, I would've pushed through my sore leg, but I was just not mentally in the game today.
On top of this, I totally have PMS and am tired and cranky and crampy. But the good news is, I haven't binged. I kind of want to right now, but I'm writing in this blog instead and am hoping that I can clear my head by the time I sit down for breakfast. I have a bagel and some fruit and I'm going to eat that slowly and then stop. I'm resting with ice on my leg right now, so I'm going to just try to relax and let my foot heal itself.
Whew, I am a bit calmer now that I've written out some of my thoughts. I'm going to enjoy my breakfast, watch some sitcoms to cheer myself up and try to forget that this morning ever happened...
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Looking For Some Positives
Well, I made it to my counseling session BY MYSELF yesterday. It wasn't easy, but I brought the walker with me and stopped to sit whenever I needed to rest. And I got there and back in one piece.
Needless to say, I am so SORE after enduring three very active days. On Sunday, I climbed up that long flight of stairs in the movies and then walked a couple of blocks; yesterday, I traveled alone and also walked a couple of blocks; and then, this morning, I had PT. They finally gave me a new exercise to do besides the standing leg movements and stretches; they had me maneuver my foot on this balance board to get a better range of motion. Sounds easy, but it was actually quite hard to keep my foot on the board and then rotate it along with my foot. I ached afterward.
When I came home this afternoon, I was so stiff and sore that I found it difficult to walk, even just around the apartment. My ankle hurt, my back hurt and my knees hurt, too. I found myself wanting to beat myself up for it, for not being able to walk well enough yet, for not losing enough weight yet so that I don't have back pain.
But then I sat back and thought about all that I DID manage to accomplish over the past few weeks and tried to focus on that instead. I can now walk up and down stairs. I can now walk without the walker for short periods. I can now walk for a couple of blocks with the walker (if I take a couple of breaks, but the point is, I can get the distance completed). I can now balance on my bad leg and raise up the other leg during my standing leg movements (when I first started, I could barely do this). I can now travel by myself and don't have to rely on Jon to take me everywhere.
These are really big things! I am proud of myself, but I do tend to be impatient about life in general. I wish my leg would heal more quickly and I wish that the weight would just fall off. But I can see the beginnings of some improvement. I'll just have to keep working hard.
I'm still struggling a bit with my eating. I haven't binged in a while, but I know that I need to eat better things. I tend to have a lot of bread and rice and pasta, and while none of this is bad in of itself, I do eat too much starch in general. I also tend to overindulge on cheese and not have enough vegetables. I didn't do too badly today; instead of having a bagel for breakfast, I had a couple of small rolls with some grapes and bananas, and then for dinner, Jon made me gazpacho. I did overdo it on the cheese, but I journaled everything. My main problem is that if I like something, I'll eat the whole thing. So if there's a block of cheese in front of me or a tub of low-fat cream cheese, I'll nibble on it until it's done. Part of me has considered getting all of these trigger foods out of the house ... but then, there wouldn't really be anything left. As of now, I'm having Jon keep minimal food in the house, anyway, and I've been known to eat weird stuff when I get desperate. I mean, I've eaten sticks of butter. Gross, I know.
I am getting better at monitoring myself, though, and am trying to come up with a game plan for when I return to work full-time in a couple of weeks. I used to order in often, but I think that I'll bring a lunch bag each day instead. I really like having grapes because you can nibble on them all day and it's like eating healthy candy. That will also keep me away from the vending machine. I suppose it's good that I can't walk well because I won't be able to make trips to buy M&Ms or even to pick up food from the outside!
For now, I'm going to continue to take my eating one meal at a time and my walking one step at a time. It's a little disheartening for me that I have to deal with my recovery and my weight simultaneously, but I figure that I'll have one hell of a story to tell when I conquer both.
Needless to say, I am so SORE after enduring three very active days. On Sunday, I climbed up that long flight of stairs in the movies and then walked a couple of blocks; yesterday, I traveled alone and also walked a couple of blocks; and then, this morning, I had PT. They finally gave me a new exercise to do besides the standing leg movements and stretches; they had me maneuver my foot on this balance board to get a better range of motion. Sounds easy, but it was actually quite hard to keep my foot on the board and then rotate it along with my foot. I ached afterward.
When I came home this afternoon, I was so stiff and sore that I found it difficult to walk, even just around the apartment. My ankle hurt, my back hurt and my knees hurt, too. I found myself wanting to beat myself up for it, for not being able to walk well enough yet, for not losing enough weight yet so that I don't have back pain.
But then I sat back and thought about all that I DID manage to accomplish over the past few weeks and tried to focus on that instead. I can now walk up and down stairs. I can now walk without the walker for short periods. I can now walk for a couple of blocks with the walker (if I take a couple of breaks, but the point is, I can get the distance completed). I can now balance on my bad leg and raise up the other leg during my standing leg movements (when I first started, I could barely do this). I can now travel by myself and don't have to rely on Jon to take me everywhere.
These are really big things! I am proud of myself, but I do tend to be impatient about life in general. I wish my leg would heal more quickly and I wish that the weight would just fall off. But I can see the beginnings of some improvement. I'll just have to keep working hard.
I'm still struggling a bit with my eating. I haven't binged in a while, but I know that I need to eat better things. I tend to have a lot of bread and rice and pasta, and while none of this is bad in of itself, I do eat too much starch in general. I also tend to overindulge on cheese and not have enough vegetables. I didn't do too badly today; instead of having a bagel for breakfast, I had a couple of small rolls with some grapes and bananas, and then for dinner, Jon made me gazpacho. I did overdo it on the cheese, but I journaled everything. My main problem is that if I like something, I'll eat the whole thing. So if there's a block of cheese in front of me or a tub of low-fat cream cheese, I'll nibble on it until it's done. Part of me has considered getting all of these trigger foods out of the house ... but then, there wouldn't really be anything left. As of now, I'm having Jon keep minimal food in the house, anyway, and I've been known to eat weird stuff when I get desperate. I mean, I've eaten sticks of butter. Gross, I know.
I am getting better at monitoring myself, though, and am trying to come up with a game plan for when I return to work full-time in a couple of weeks. I used to order in often, but I think that I'll bring a lunch bag each day instead. I really like having grapes because you can nibble on them all day and it's like eating healthy candy. That will also keep me away from the vending machine. I suppose it's good that I can't walk well because I won't be able to make trips to buy M&Ms or even to pick up food from the outside!
For now, I'm going to continue to take my eating one meal at a time and my walking one step at a time. It's a little disheartening for me that I have to deal with my recovery and my weight simultaneously, but I figure that I'll have one hell of a story to tell when I conquer both.
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