10 Pounds

I gained 10 pounds. First it was 6, which didn't seem like a huge deal. But, yesterday (or the day before), I got on the scale and there it was: 277.

That's 10 pounds from my lowest weight of 267 (or 11 from 266, but I just don't want to go there).

I knew I was in for it after the holidays, and I'm trying not to get too upset about it. Just hopping back on the wagon of counting my calories again. My motivation isn't huge, but it isn't completely vanished like it was for a while there while I was maintaining.

I have grown comfortable with being able to fit in new kinds of clothes. I've grown accustomed to shopping for a certain size. I don't see myself (well, kind of sort of) as the "oversized" person I used to be. I can by off the rack now.

I need to keep chugging forward. And that's what I'll do. Wish me luck - and best wishes to you in 2011. Let's make this a year of better health.

Holding

I'm holding. Still fluxing between 266 and 267ish. Not too bad. I guess maintaining for a bit isn't horrible, but still I'd be happy with another 10 pounds gone. Would like to see the other side of 250 before the end of the year. Seems easy enough, but whatever ball was rolling before seems to have slowed down a bit. Thank goodness I'm not rolling backwards, packing on the pounds. I can be grateful for that.

Balancing between trying to be thrifty and healthy is delicate. Cooking meals for growing boys, while being creative with the pantry doesn't always allow me the time to run back to SparkPeople and plug it in the recipe calculator. My best bet right now is to try my darndest to remember portion sizes and stick to them.

Dragging out the winter clothes reminded me of the changes in my body.

Meeting up with the girls for semi-monthly bookclub reminds me of the changes in my body. I get complimented every time, which reinforces the fact that I've lost weight. I forget, you know. I see it in my saggy skin and feel it in my clothes, but forget it in my mind because it is still my body.

Ten pounds would feel better. Ten pounds. Can I tackle that?

Decisions, Decisions

I'm around and kicking. Every time I feel like updating, I change my mind.

Not a whole lot going on.

Except that I'm doing pretty crappy. Emotionally.

Life has been difficult. I've been dealing with some things that, in my little bubble of life, people don't seem to have to deal with. Maybe it is my slant on life. Maybe I'm a little depressed and have a skewed interpretation of digesting my circumstances. On one hand I feel like hunkering down with a bottle of booze and the saltiest fried food the world can imagine up for me, and doing myself in with a big, ol' pity party, table of one. On the other hand I feel incredibly blessed, and am thankful for the lessons and learning I am learning about life. Hopeful to chip away at my cynical exterior to reveal a better, more loving me.

I tend to flip-flop quite often.

Today I choose booze. I also chose to pop a Xanax. Not at the same time. But I'm obviously choosing to damper my emotions with something. Too bad it isn't a treadmill. Or a bike ride. Good thing it isn't a pizza. Happy medium of sorts.

I find that my lows are rather low. My highs are rather middle-of-the-road, and my potential to seriously need an anti-depressant are... viable.

But.

Yeah.

Here's the thing. I tried one (Celexa), and quit it after 2 days. By day 2 I was having flashbacks of why I actually quit the drug years ago in the first place. See, back then I went on it for a year or so, just to get out of a slump. Nausea, jaw tension and lack of desire for bedroom activities were an issue. Oh - and sweating like a pig. But, emotionally I was in a better place. If you call flatlining a better place. OK, OK. "Flatlining" is a little strong. But, I just remember not feeling... me. Feeling a bit hindered emotionally.

Either way, I got off. Moved on, and did OK.

And then a couple weeks ago I felt myself slipping and tried it again. After two days of headaches, nausea and fear I stopped. Even though I've been slipping for a couple years now.

Talked with my psychiatrist (I say "my" but I've only seen him once and then followed up with a phone conversation a couple weeks later) and he said I should give the Zoloft a try (since I already had a bottle on hand, prescribed from my primary care doc months ago). I took that for 2 days and stopped it, too. It was better than the Celexa, really. I didn't have the same side effects right off the bat. But I did have a nagging concern that I was building up in my body something I might not like, and if I didn't - I'd have to wean myself off of it. And I've heard that weaning off Zoloft is akin to stopping heroin cold turkey. Nice.

You really don't need to know all this, but guess what? Here it is.

And with a trip to a winery planned for the weekend, I really didn't want to be in anti-depressant land. Silly? Maybe.

Again, here I go with the flip-flop, wishy washy. I want to do this on my own. I want to do it without the meds. They scare me a bit. But they could improve my quality of life.

Decisions, decisions.

On the weight front... I've maintained. Fluxing between 266 and 267. Go me. Good deal. I'd really like to lose, though.

Self-Care

The cooler air has been a relief.

Forget the blues in winter, I get them in summer. The oppressive heat, humidity and blaring sun do not do good things for momma. I'd much rather be wrapped in a sweatshirt, simmering soup on the stove, baking, cleaning without sweating and sucking fresh air.

Yes, the drop in temperature is welcomed here.

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My Wii broke. I've been using it to weigh myself, which makes it breaking kind of a sour deal. I don't know what is wrong with it besides the fact that it will not turn on. Pretty basic. I've had the kids look at it (they know more than me about these things) and they weren't able to fix it. I weighed myself on my shipping scale (the back up), and I look to be about the same. Maybe a bit of a loss, I don't know and can't quite remember.

Wii takes off 2 pounds for clothing. I think my shipping scale weighs in 3 pounds heavier. If I weighed 270 on the shipping scale, then I'm about 265? If I remember right. Which I'm not sure that I do. Still, it is a lesson in not being completely married to the scale, or the system, but to rely more on the the process as indication of progress.

Which I am, and am watching what I eat. Shifting here and there, trying to spice things up with new recipes. I've been pretty good about it, making new meals the past few days, shopping ahead (better for finances, too). I think I may have glugged down a half bottle of wine one evening, though. Not the best for calories. But I stayed within my range, crazy as it is.

I've been going for walks. I've been trying to be more active. Consciously.

My wellness is not whole. It isn't just the eating (although it is part of how I comfort myself). The eating is a symptom. The chaos is a symptom. I have many parts of my life that need better balance -nutrition, exercise, finances, household, spirit, self- and I need to maintain focus and better balance. Self-care.

As I tighten up on one area of my life (my eating), I see other parts start to fall in line. But, then, I also see the potential for other areas to become less manageable if I become too focused or immersed in my physical (eating, exercise) well-being.

Right now my immediate concern has to do with work. Last year my hours were cut. I was not happy about it, but learned to live with it, and eventually ended up enjoying it. My hourly cut gave me the opportunity to look beyond my day job--which is just a job, not a career-- to see what other options were available to me. Finishing my degree? Putting time into other areas of my life (self, household, volunteer, my "freelance" work)? Go back to doing some crafting?

Now, my job is wanting me back for the hours it took away. I'm not entirely sure if that is what I want right now. I have a couple of other opportunities that are open to me that, I think, might bring greater fulfillment than the measly dollars I would make stacking on more hours. I have an offer for some freelance work, and I still could finish up my degree. Both would be good, for different reasons. I will pray on it, chew on it and hope I can find some answers and some peace about it.

All of this falls under the "self-care" umbrella. Me, taking care of myself. Making a decision largely based on myself, and less based on everyone else. Not something I generally do. I've dodged out of a million commitments and opportunities simply because I put everyone else in front of me. But in the process of that, I've lost the delicate balance of regarding the family needs as well as my own in my decision-making -- and in that have lost some of myself. Compromised to the point of being nearly suffocated, depressed and lost. For me to be a better mother/wife/sister/human being, I have to regard myself, my boundaries and what is healthy for me, so I can be a better person to other people. As cliche as it sounds, it is true.

Manure Hits Fan

My emotions are tied to my eating. I know and recognize this. Part of my (gag-cliche-gag) journey in all this is facing things head on, sacrificing my pride, and relearning.

I've done good. 70 pounds down, not shabby. But the last couple weeks I've been sliding. The scale hasn't much reflected it, but the way I've been eating has, and the scale is sure to follow. OK. That's a lie. The scale isn't going down. That's how it is reflecting. I'm no longer losing. I'm maintaining, and soon I will be gaining.

I could wax poetic for a bunch of paragraphs, but I'll just claim the truth of it and work with that.

So here it is: my depressed and anxiety-prone adult child is living with us again. For four years we went through, (dragging us with) a nightmare with her as she entered her teen years, barreling through them with drugs, alcohol, risky behavior and excitement, with disregard for everyone around her. I haven't healed from all of that yet, and now we find her back with us. I still have kids in the house who are not grown, which sets off a whole different dynamic.

I'm scarred, and not yet healed from the trauma that we went through. Having her here again has re-opened wounds. The only good thing about having her home is that we know where she is at night, and we know she's not out on the streets doing who knows what. Been there, not easy, but you learn to live with it. I'm not saying it's right or good or even going to "work" letting her stay here in the long run. I'm just saying it is what is now.

Through all those years I never went to counseling. I survived, I got through. I learned and grew as a mother and a human being. I suffered. A lot. More than I care to think of right now. I believe I have a some PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) from all of those years of trauma, lies, fear.

Just as I started to find some peace and healing, acceptance... it comes crashing down again. I've been taking Xanax, occasionally. I went to a counselor for the first time two weeks ago. I'm anxious and irritable, depressed. Feeling the stress in nearly every corner of my world.

I feel horrible, complaining like this, which is why I haven't said anything about it. But today, as I looked at my nearly expended calories, felt stuffed to the gills, poured a Guinness (drank half, then poured it out), climbed in my car for a chocolate run (with a kid in tow to run into the store for me -- I look a hot mess), came back and ate 200 calories of Hershey's (half of that in the car, and half on the couch, still within my calorie range) - and then within a half-hour decided to completely blow it, made an egg bagel, slathered with butter and a dash of grape jelly (I never eat this crap, so I know I'm on a binge), eat it furiously and sit down to type this? I know I have to face it, claim it, name it, pray about it, give it up to God -- whatever I can do to not be consumed by it.

This is where the tough part comes in, honey. And it is tough. Because the most wicked saboteur is not friends, family, commercials, celebrity or anything else. It's SELF. And I was wondering when it would kick in. I was wondering when my willpower and drive would fail. And it is now. When the manure hits the fan.

If I can't keep on the path, despite my unhappiness, then I have problems. I need to face this problem, whatever it is at the root, dig it up and get rid of it.

I don't know how yet. But I'm standing in the hole with a shovel, ready to cut into the root, or pull the dirt over my head.

Not a Plateau

I wouldn't say I'm at a plateau, but I have maintained my weight this week. A plateau would mean that, despite my continued weight-loss efforts, my body refuses to lose weight. I can not say that I was entirely diligent in the weight-loss effort department this week. And that's OK. Maybe subconsciously I need a bit of a break.

I went to lunch with one of my bosses this week. I don't normally do that, even though the opportunity is constantly there. I work in an office of people who love to do lunch. Lunch out of the office or take-out brought into the office, doesn't matter. 99.9% of the time I turn down lunch offers. I always have. Be it money or me watching what I eat, or the fact that I'm working and need to get things done. Last week, though, came to a point of You Can't Refuse The Boss. So I didn't. My resistance was down anyway. It was an excuse not to work on a slow day, it was dinner on the boss, and I like my boss.

And I like food, not to mention.

So I went. Ate reasonable. Enjoyed it. Moved on. Saved my Lean Cuisine for another day.

There's no way I can make it practice, of coarse, or it would be a sabotage of my good habits.

But last week was filled with experiences somewhat like that. Two weeks of this is not good, as far as losing weight goes. I'm tickled to have lost last week and maintained this week, but time has come to gather the discipline despite the food-eating opportunities that summer brings. The heat has been an unfortunate factor for me, too. I haven't gone on the walks I normally do.

So my goal for this next week will be to journal my food every single day and to exercise. Pretty simple. All of this, of coarse, to see the needle on the scale bob a bit lower, which is the whole point of things right now. I'm ready to be out of my 26 pants, feel them getting looser.

It is a delicate balance of motivating myself to move on, but being in tune enough to know not to push to much. Technically, I should be able to stay at 266 for a year. 266 is better than 298, which is better than 338. Using that broader perspective, I am at a better place than I've been in years. I don't want to push myself so much that I throw in the towel.

So we'll see. My hope is continued weight loss. But bigger picture I don't ever want to be back where I was at 298.

Cocktails and Conversation

First and foremost: my dog stinks. He's sitting right next to me, wondrous companion that he is, and reeks of doggie stench. Love him anyway.

Speaking of doggie, he's great. Haven't had him for too long, a couple months, really. But it is so nice to have someone to walk with. He's not big, so I couldn't take him for much more of a walk than I do (3 miles maybe 4 tops). A guard dog he is not, but a joyful tag-along he is.

Yesterday we went out for drinks and chatting with a couple of friends. Prior to cocktails and conversation I hauled donkey on a 40-minute walk, purposely hitting a few hills and keeping the momentum at a nice clip. All this so that I didn't have to worry too much about what I ate, knowing I'd have to burn some calories just to make up for it.

Sitting on my barstool, I enjoyed the looseness of the cotton shirt I was wearing. Last year it was snug on my hips, this year it hangs loosely. Must make note of these things and continually remind myself how much better it feels to be comfortable in my skin.

I ended up having a couple of drinks and splitting an appetizer with my husband (mini burgers and a scotch egg). Not so bad, could have been worse. Can't make it a nightly event, but for something special it was nice.

Today I'm back on track, and making sure to journal my intake. I'm wearing a pair of shorts that didn't fit me last year. They're still a little snugger than I'd like. I intend to change that.

Have a great day.