...and panic

Okay, now that we're tracking some positive points again.... on to the other stuff!

Beginning Monday night of last week, my panic/anxiety returned almost in full-force. After feeling really pretty good about my job (those of you who know me well know that that is HUGE for me), the stress and pressure started to pile on and I had moments of feeling like I was suffocating both physically and mentally. I kept telling myself I would take a telework day just to give myself some breathing room and a little peace and quiet, but Friday arrived and I had definitely been in the office a full day (and then some) every day. Last Wednesday was especially bad and I felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin most of the day. It was the first full-blown panic attack I've had in almost a year. ...then I got a call as I was preparing dinner last Friday evening from my boss (who is also my mother-in-law) telling me that I had fucked up big time. I ended up having to go back into work for about an hour, and while I didn't get yelled at (like I thought I certainly would), I did get the "I'm disappointed in you" treatment. Which is almost worse. This has continued into this week. 

On top of this weird panic and anxiety, my body image is going down the toilet. I had a lot of issues with food and portion control last week spurned by the 10 lbs gain the scale reflected on December 5th after we returned from vacation. I'm not sure if this particular flavor of self-hate is a result of the stress/pressure at work, or if it is its own entity. I'm having a helluva time motivating to exercise consistently, and instead of wanting to take care of myself I seem to be punishing myself with too much food and not enough sleep. And do I even need to mention the inner-monologue? It's bad. I'm sick with myself over the way my body composition has changed over the last year, but that disgust and self-hate isn't helping me to actually do anything about it... it's certainly just making it worse. I'm so unhappy with my body, and while I know that "being skinny" isn't likely to make me 100% happy, I also know that gaining fat and reaching the point where I can't comfortably fit in my clothes anymore will definitely not make me any percentage of happy.

I'm struggling to recenter here. While this week I'm fairing a bit better with calorie intake, I'm still nowhere near a deficit and most days am eating above TDEE - although not by nearly as much as I was before. I did manage to run Friday and this Wednesday (I went ahead and started a couch-to-5k program after realizing it was a perfect "rehab" from my piriformis syndrome), and I've ordered some cold weather compression tights and a neck/face warmer thingie and hope to keep up with the runs despite the cold temperatures. I will say I have been very pleasantly surprised to find I haven't lost nearly as much of my endurance as I thought I would, having not run since August. That's both promising and motivating.

I tried to return to some sort of strength training routine Monday night, but I was all over the place. I can't decide what to do or what not to do; to stick with a bodyweight routine or go straight for the weights; for a beginner program or intermediate; a 5x5 or a more in-depth, complex structured program.

See? All over the place.

Not only was I discombobulated, but I wasn't putting in a whole lot of effort and sort of just stopped in the middle of the whole thing to stretch/foam roll and then go grab a shower. It may be time to consider joining the gym again. This would give me access to treadmills to run when it's raining/snowing and/or just plain frigid outside, plus access to all kinds of machines as well as a massive free-weight area with proper squat-racks, etc. to sort of poke through as I please.

I'm not sure what to do. A few local gyms have free week-long trial memberships, so that may be the best place to start. I belonged to Golds Gym for years and years and always liked it there, so I will probably end up back over there. It's also only 2 miles from my house, so it's convenient. Not much of an excuse to not go.

...now let's talk about sleep and some other issues that will be very TMI (you were warned).

I stopped taking my birth control in March of this year right around the time I began my whole 100 Days of Change thing. I had been having horrible migraines regularly for months and had tried cutting out all kinds of different stuff -- stopping the pill seemed to be the trick. The first couple cycles were totally normal and on-time for me. Very similar to how my body seemed to function as a teenager before I started birth control. ...then something happened. I have no idea what. I don't know if what I'm going through now is my new "normal", or what -- but my cycle is all over the goddamn place. I will start my period anywhere from 20 to 30 days (usually earlier, though), and every month, without fail, I have what I've begun calling a "mini-period" about a week before my real period starts. This is where my period pretends to start for 3 or 4 days... and then abruptly disappears... before reappearing for real 5 or 6 days later. Sometimes I'll even have TWO mini-periods in a month.

As you can imagine, it's incredibly inconvenient, uncomfortable, and frustrating. I have an appointment with a new obgyn (my regular ob is no longer in practice) on January 5th and I'm hoping he can shed some light on what the hell is going on. I guess it's entirely possible that this is just how my body operates when it isn't pumped full of artificial hormones... but it doesn't seem particularly normal to me. Going back on hormonal birth control is not an option for me. I tried that a couple months ago and immediately started having horrible migraines again. Stopped the pills, the headaches went away completely. So.. there's that.

Now, sleep. I've known for over a year now how important sleep is to me personally and how I operate mentally and emotionally. That's not even considering the scientific fact that sleep is what helps to regulate all the most important hormones in your body. I got pretty good earlier this year about regularly getting at least 7.5 hours of sleep. Sure, there were nights here or there where I got less - but they were few and far between. Lately I seem to have decided sleep is not important. I'm averaging about 6.5 hours the last few weeks and I'm starting to notice the affects on my daily mood and general functionality. As I get back into running and attempt to find some sort of strength training I can stick with, I realize more and more how important sleep is going to be if I want to be at all successful in changing my body composition, let alone any kind of successful weight loss.

And this is where we begin to harp on priorities - which may seem to be my most favorite past-time on this blog.

I need to get my priorities straight. Either exercising regularly, recovering from that exercise properly, and getting enough sleep to have the energy for the exercise in the first place and to recover from it once it's been done is my top priority OR getting drunk, smoking cigarettes, watching television, and staying up until 2 or 3am every Friday/Saturday/sometimes Wednesday night is my top priority.

Now, I'm trying really hard not to default to my usual black-and-white thinking on this issue. Getting enough down-time and sleep in order to assist in my get-healthy efforts is important, but spending time with my family and friends is also something that is almost equally important to me. As an extrovert, I thrive on my social interaction. To cut myself off from that is generally a big red flag that my depression is swallowing me whole -- and to inadvertently get cut off from that social interaction fuels my depression and anxiety big-time. That being said, there's no reason that all of that socialization must be in the form of imbibing alcohol and/or staying up late. There most certainly is some balance that can be applied. ...I just have to tell that voice in my head that says, "You're missing out" to shut the hell up because it's time for bed, damnit. 

At this moment I'm sort of in a "I give up" place with food and calories. If I keep stressing over it it's just going to fuel binge-like behavior. Better to focus on getting enough rest/sleep, embracing to motivation to exercise when it comes, and managing my stress levels.

So, that's where I am, Dear Readers. ...now, if only I can manage to update this thing more than twice a month...

Slowly Returning

Two weeks ago I decided not to be injured anymore. This week I'm deciding to return to exercise. Last week my physical therapist officially discharged me from her care. While I’m still having some tightness and soreness, it’s nothing I can’t live with and it’s not really limiting my mobility or normal daily activities anymore. She told me I could return to normal exercise, but to take it slowly.

I better heed that advice because, let’s face it, I’ve pretty much given up on being physically active in any way outside of just normal everyday stuff you are required to move around to do and PT sessions. When I first began physical therapy, I was still walking briskly and for a couple miles at a time a few times a week in an effort to make up for the fact that I couldn’t run/jog. Around the second week in October I pretty much gave up on that and decided my twice-weekly PT sessions were enough. My feelings of “I’m just going to be hurt forever” definitely fed into this and I’m not sure I really did myself any favors buying into the negative self-talk. Then again, it was right around this time that I started noticing real improvement in my injury, so I could also make the argument that the actual rest did my body good.

Regardless, I’m way out of a normal exercise routine and coming up short on motivation.

Those of you who follow my little Instagram #365daysofchange experiment have probably noticed an obvious drop-off in my activity. When I was no longer able to do the type of exercise I wanted to be able to do, it began to drop lower and lower on my priority list. I also felt incredibly self-conscious about the fact that I was mostly posting about going out for drinks or dinner or simply wallowing in my self-pity over my injury. The challenge or experiment or whatever you want to call it was supposed to be about maintaining daily exercise and activity, not only for my physical health but my mental health. A rest day was supposed to be time for me to meditate or practice some gentle yoga, to bring myself back into focus and relieve stress – maybe plan out meals or just spend some time doing something else I enjoyed. I haven’t been sticking to any of these guidelines I set for myself, I’m not longer inspiring myself and I find it impossible to believe my laziness and self-loathing is inspiring anyone else at this point either. I’ve considered just giving it up several different times, but then I feel like that’s just one more thing I can add to my list of things I’ve never completed/half-assed. So I keep chugging along, making sporadic contributions.

Meanwhile, I sit here and mourn my drive and motivation and wonder if I can blame the shorter daylight hours. The last two weeks have been pretty dark for me emotionally. That depression seems to be creeping back in and I’m not sure if this is just a side-effect of my lack of exercise/physical activity, the approaching holidays and the emotions surfacing over my papaw’s death, if this means I should contact my doctor about maybe increasing my antidepressant dosage, or if this could be yet another negative side-effect of my decision to go back on birth control about a month ago.

…or all of the above.

And speaking of being back on the pill: this is my first month back on and my migraines have already returned full-force, I’ve been nauseous practically all day every day (especially in the afternoon), and generally just feel pretty gross and ill. Not to mention in researching my side-effects the other night, I found that because I’m prone to ocular migraines regardless of being on or off hormonal birth control, I should not be on any type of birth control that contains estrogen as this can greatly increase my risk of blood clots and stroke regardless of age/health. Isn’t that just super? Mike and I chatted the other night and have decided those risks and the side-effects aren’t worth it and we’ll return to using non-hormonal forms of birth control for the time being.

I consider myself incredibly lucky to have such an understanding partner.  

So amidst all of this emotional and hormonal turmoil, I’ve done a lot of thinking about how I want to proceed into getting back on a regular workout schedule… and what I’m going to do about my calorie intake.

For the last month I’ve been pretty steadily dropping weight. I had one week where I stalled, but I’m averaging a little more than half a pound a week – which is fine. According to my FitBit estimated burn and my MFP logs, I’m in a 500 calorie deficit right now without even intending to be. Over the last couple weeks I quit worrying about my macros because it was driving me nutty. The only thing I’m really focusing on is my fiber intake. My medication can really ‘cause problems with my gut if I don’t eat enough fiber. We’ll just leave it at that.

So, I guess you could say I’m intuitively eating. I recently joined a Facebook group called “Eat the Food” that I stumbled across through the fitness community I dabble in occasionally. I’m really enjoying being part of the community so far and it’s really making me rethink my relationship with food and weight loss. Right now I think it might benefit me most to put the focus on the exercise – which I’ve had to do a few times in the past – and not worry so much about whether or not I’m eating at a deficit.

While I’m enjoying seeing the number on the scale move again, I’m also disappointed to find that I’ve lost a lot of my strength. Doing simple things like carrying the groceries in from the car, or hauling laundry (and toddlers) up and down the stairs just aren’t as effortless as they once were. I’m trying very hard not to let this discourage me too much since the only thing that will accomplish is my putting off strength training even longer as I buy into the “what’s the point?” mantra. I’m trying very hard not to let that happen.

My goal for today is to do some kind of strength training, no matter how brief. It will also be hard to keep myself from charging right into the whole thing and causing my injury to flare up. I’ve just got to take everything slow and steady. 

Deciding

I’ve decided to not be injured anymore.

That’s not to say that I’m magically healed. I’m not. I’m getting there, but likely still have another month or two before I’ll be back at 100%.

But what I mean is, I’ve decided to quit letting it drag me down. While I didn’t think I was really feeling so much that way anymore, some recent time to sit quietly with my thoughts and feelings has revealed otherwise. I’ve recently fallen back into some bad habits (outside of food/fitness stuff) which I’m now recognizing as a desperate grab for some kind of control over my life. For the last several months I “controlled” my exercise and food (although definitely more so the exercise), and when my back/leg started hurting I lost that. While I’ve been consistently in PT twice a week it’s been really difficult for me to look at that as “a workout”, even though that’s exactly what PT is.

Unfortunately I’ve reached a point where I can no longer afford to continue sinking money into physical therapy. I’ve struggled a lot with this over the last couple weeks – part of me felt like, “I’m on the road to recovery, they’ve done what they can do, I can’t keep spending the money”, while the other part of me said, “You’ve made such improvement in the last two weeks – surely just a couple weeks more and you’ll be almost back to normal. It would be a shame to quit now and delay your recovery!”

Well, that’s been almost two weeks ago now and while I’ve continued to improve, I’m not “almost back to normal” and my budget can’t take the strain anymore. I don’t even know what the real total will be at this point since my PT’s office hasn’t billed all my visits yet – but the few visits they’ve already billed the insurance, I’m looking at a remaining patient responsibility of over $600. I can no longer ignore the financial strain of continuing to go.

I’ve considered checking out either a chiropractor or massage therapist as an alternative, but I’m not fully decided on that factor. I hope that may be a bit cheaper (I know the massage would be, anyway), but I can’t be 100% sure until I start making some calls.

In the meantime, I have one more PT appointment scheduled for Thursday which I’ve decided to go ahead and attend, and I’ve decided to recommit myself to regular exercise. I did all right those first few weeks about continuing to walk almost daily, but then I started feeling sorry for myself and that all fell off. I guess not “all” – I’m still regularly walking on my lunch break. But my lunch break walks are quite a bit different than my more fast-paced, get-the-heart-rate-up walks I was doing in the evenings. I’m also healed to a point where I can do some strength training. I can do push-ups and even a few squats without pain. I think I may have even regained enough flexibility to do a little gentle yoga. As long as these activities remain pain-free, there’s no reason I can’t regularly start incorporating them into some sort of normal exercise regimen.

Getting back to exercise will be my main focus right now. I can’t even begin to tackle food. I’m more out of control with what I’m eating than I think I’ve ever been in my entire life. This is new territory for me, this level. I’ve considered ditching the calorie tracking (for the millionth time over the last year), but I’m also self-aware enough to know that this is me just trying to justify poor choices by not having to consistently SEE those poor choices reflected on my food diary. One thing I know about myself, though - if I’m putting the work into my body with exercise, it makes it 100 times easier to make better food choices. I’m hoping by putting my focus on the exercise, the food chaos will come around. In the meantime I’ll continue my daily tracking regardless of how often my macros are out of whack or my calories are above the goal line.

I know I’ve probably said this before… several times… but I’m hoping I can allow myself to take this as an opportunity to take things easy, start back at “beginner”, build a good foundation, and prevent future injury and burnout. While even the thought of starting from the beginning is frustrating to me (LIFT ALL THE HEAVY THINGS!! RUN ALL THE MILES!! EAT ALL THE PROTEIN!!), I need to use this whole experience as my “ah-ha” moment. It’s been hard to learn from all of this instead of just being angry and hateful toward myself. It’s been hard to not have the distraction of “the workout routine” from all these things bouncing around in my head regarding my life and my family and my goals as a human being. It’s been tough, but it’s also been good in a lot of ways.

So this is where I am, Readers. This recommitment also applies to this blog and a return to regular updates. As usual: stay tuned.

Okay, okay, okay...

Goddamn, I've been all over the place lately. I've begun drafting no less than three updates over the last 10 days and haven't managed to get a single one up here.

If you read my last quick and dirty post, you know I've been under quite a bit of stress and worry lately. Adding to all those stresses and worries, which I don't think I mentioned, was this looming hard deadline at work. October 15th. For those of you not in finance/accounting, this is the final tax deadline for any business that operates on a calendar year. Work has been very, very tough for me. There has been lots of crying in the bathroom, lots of threatening murder, lots of tension, lots of short-tempers, lots of going to bed without my husband (because we work together and he has had to put in an ungodly amount of overtime - I'm a little "luckier" because I act in more of a support role for these deadlines). 

It's over now. Thank GOD.

So for the last couple weeks I've begun struggling a lot with body image again. (Shocker!) I've been doing quite a bit of stress eating, and these last few days, stress drinking. All I wanted to do last night was staying up drinking beer all night. Fortunately, I'm a responsible adult, so I didn't do that. But I did stay up until after midnight watching television.. because maybe I'm not totally an adult. 

I'm digressing... so, yes, feeling down on my bod, eating all the tiny candy bars at work because of stress, feeling very defeatist and playing a lot of the "you'll never be where you want to be with your weight/body composition" monologue in my head. The fact that I'm looking at likely another month of PT for my piriformis syndrome, helps NONE. ...but my physical therapist's office is connected to the gym I used to belong to. I spend roughly 30-40 minutes in that gym doing my various warm-ups and exercises for my PT. I realized today, man, I miss the gym. And it occurred to me: this is where I restarted my weight loss/health gain journey after Nolan was born. I also realized that I just happened to be wearing the same t-shirt I wore on that first day back at the gym. And so this happened:

Top: 01/25/2012
Bottom: 10/16/2014

The locker room has been remodeled since that first photo, but that's the same mirror at the same gym. 

I've said it once, I'll say it a million more times: PICTURES ARE SO IMPORTANT TO TRACK PROGRESS!!! To be honest, lately I've felt like that body in those top pictures. I've felt like that for a few months now. It's been a long time since I've truly been proud of my progress. I get locked up in this mindset of "It's been four years, it's been four years..." Yeah, it's been four years since I realized, "Well, damn, I got fat.", but I never cut myself a break for going through a pregnancy during those 4 years. I grew a person inside of my body beginning 5 months into this journey. So, really, January 25, 2012 was my real start date. And there has been progress. 

Yes, this injury is setting me back. Yes, the recovery will still take me weeks (maybe a month or two) more. Yes, it's been a struggle to not be completely and totally depressed over the whole thing. But the reality of my situation is that I will fully recover. I will be able to return to heavy lifting and running and doing whatever the hell I feel like doing for fitness purposes! It may not be until January, but I will get there. I will, I will. 

Now that I've essentially given myself a pep talk on my body image, we must address the food thing. 

When I first jumped back on the weight loss bandwagon after Nolan was born, I was eating roughly 1400-1800 calories a day. I was losing weight doing this. I was sometimes going to the gym, but mostly just walking. A few times a week. Inconsistently. I was at probably 40-45% body fat. This is probably why I was able to eat almost nothing on some days and still feel okay. My body had plenty of fat stores to pull from. 

After a while and after beginning some strength training, I upped my calories. My weight maintained higher than where I wanted it, but my body composition began changing pretty drastically. At some point over the summer of 2013, I was likely under 30% body fat. I could "afford" to eat more. 

Last fall when my grandfather became ill and began his battle with cancer, I sort of told diet and exercise to kiss my ass, began sinking further and further into the depression I'd already been battling for several months, and I began eating whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it and would occasionally do a workout or take a walk, but mostly didn't exercise at all. I told myself I was "taking the pressure off" - that I was just going to focus on Be Healthy, Be Happy, Be Active. Which, in reality, became: Lie To Yourself, Lie To Yourself Some More, Deny Deny Deny! 

Thanks to the TimeHop app, I've realized I spent nearly all of last Oct-Dec sick. Something was not right. But even with the amount of junk food and the lack of exercise - I maintained my weight. I think I maybe gained a total of 3 pounds over the entire winter. We're talking from October until March-ish... possibly April. That's nearly 6 months. I began #100daysofchange in March, starting exercising daily, and started making an effort to be a little better about my eating but was off and on about tracking. When I did track, I was hitting right about 2500/day. This may have been slightly higher than maintenance, but not by much. And certainly not since I got serious about exercising daily with my #100daysofchange challenge. 

...and then something happened. The more I increased exercise and kept my calorie intake at "maintenance", the more I gained... until September 3rd, 2014 when I stepped on the scale at my doctor's office and saw "199" staring me in the face. A little over a week later, on the 12th, my own scale at home first thing in the morning and totally nude read "199.8". 

I freaked out a bit and dropped my calories under 2000. I lost 4 pounds in 2 weeks. And haven't lost anything further since despite trying to remain as active as possible (regular walks, my PT workouts, etc.).

What I have been forgetting, though, is that my muscle mass isn't what it was, say, last summer. Or even last October. My body fat percentage is likely close to 33%, which puts me firmly in the "obese" category. Finding a calorie goal that is a realistic deficit is going to be difficult now. And it may mean just being hungry. 

I just don't do well with hungry, y'all. 

So I've been doing some research, because that's what I do when I need to know more about something and feel like I don't know what I'm doing. Unfortunately, there is a lot of contradicting information out in the world regarding diet. I've bounced around on a lot of different things. But because I like to eat plenty of things and because I also likely to eat everything from salads and salmon to french fries and Blizzards, I started looking into If It Fits Your Macros. I ran some numbers for myself using their calculators and was honest in marking myself as "overweight". This puts me right around 2,000 calories/day. TDEE minus 15%. But, more importantly, I need to be hitting my macros of roughly 50% carbs, 35% protein, and 25% fat. This will be the part that will take some getting used to, but I've stumbled across some tools to help me out. 

(As a sidebar real quick: my husband has recently started an exercise program and has finally become interested in trying to track food/make sure he's eating enough of the right things to fuel his fat loss while maintaining his muscle-mass. While I'm incredibly proud of him, I'm more proud of myself for making it very clear to him that I was struggling enough with my own food issues and could not exert the energy to meal plan for both of us outside of dinner. I pointed him in the right direction and am hopeful that he'll start taking it seriously and making better choices overall.)

So that's where I am. I am fat, I am injured, I am frustrated, I am hungry, I am confused. But I am still learning and trying. Sometimes that's all you can do. And you can't get to Success if you don't first start with Try. 

Inner Mean Girl

Today was a complete and utter failure in diet and exercise. The morning started off promising (as always) with plain greek yogurt, fresh fruit, and a bit of granola for crunch. I had a snack of a KIND bar (dark chocolate nut & sea salt, in case you were wondering).

...then I had a doctor's appointment over my normal lunch-hour time. No big deal, I thought. My doctor's office is great about being on-time and I didn't see any reason the appointment should last longer than 30-40 minutes. I would just grab some Subway or stop by home and make a quick sandwich on my way back to the office. No big thing.

As predicted, my doc's office was running on-time, my appointment took just over 30 minutes... however, due to this weird back/leg/possibly-sciatica issue (she actually diagnosed as piriformis syndrome, which I self-diagnosed via the internet a couple days ago - so that made me feel like a smarty-pants!), she went ahead and asked me to pop over to radiology and get an x-ray. Just so we could be sure I didn't have any spinal issues causing the sciatica flare. Radiology actually went really quickly. I was there for all of 30 minutes. But at this point I was right up against the time I needed to be back in the office. Subway/home was not as close to the radiology office as my doc's office was, plus running short on time... so, Taco Bell it was. For the second time this week. It was not what I wanted and was not satisfying.

I've fallen completely off the bandwagon with my meal planning as of late, and while I normally keep some pre-marinated frozen salmon filets stocked in my freezer that I can just throw in the oven and have cooked and ready to eat in 30 minutes, this sciatica prevented me from getting to the grocery store over the weekend and we cooked the last of the salmon Tuesday night. I had picked up some frozen white fish (swai) on my last grocery trip and decided to give that a try even though we'd never had it before.

It was disgusting. I don't know if it the was fish itself, or just the way I seasoned it or what, but it was terrible. I couldn't even finish my small filet.

So, I ordered pizza. Not even good pizza. Cheap, nasty Domino's pizza.

Not 30 seconds after I submitted the order I remembered I had leftover pizza from trivia night in my fridge... way more delicious than Domino's, I promise you. So I heated that up and figured Mike would eat some of the Domino's and the kids would enjoy the leftovers tomorrow.

Except that I ended up eating a slice of that on top of my leftover Thai chicken pizza from last night... and then some Oreos... and now I hate myself. A lot. I feel disgusting and fat and stupid. Why didn't I just thaw some ground beef and do tacos? Why didn't I just remember to thaw the chicken breasts last night? Why didn't I just tell everyone to have some goddamn cereal for dinner?! Or make an omelette?! Or repeat my yogurt breakfast for my dinner!

Any of these would have been the better and cheaper option, but I was lazy. I was lazy and my leg hurts damnit. I just wanted dinner to be done and over so I could put my kids to bed and watch the season finale of HBO's The Leftovers.

I really hope my x-rays come back normal and this piriformis syndrome will clear up FAST. I've made an effort to keep up with exercise as best I can, which is mainly just in the form of walking and stretches. I didn't get a walk in today due to the doc appointment and following x-ray, and because I can't really do anything with any kind of "intensity", skipping that littlest bit of exercise is killing me mood-wise. While I've noticed some improvement in my general moods since I've been getting more sleep, I've also noticed that I'm much more insecure/down on myself about my body since I can't exercise "for real" right now. The idea that it may be a month or more before I've fully recovered from this injury, inflammation, whatever-the-fuck-it-is, is terrifying me. I finally, finally, finally rediscovered my do-some-exercise-everyday motivation, as well as my get-out-there-and-run-run-run motivation, only for it all to be destroyed by random nerve pain FOR NO REASON just as we come into our last few weeks of mild weather and extended daylight hours.

I was hoping by this weekend to at least be able to start doing some yoga. That is a no-go, Dear Readers. I can still barely sit some days, let alone do anything close to a Sun Salutation flow.

Meanwhile, and I know this is totally irrational, I feel like I'm gaining a pound every minute; fat is just magically appearing all over my body and I'm helpless to stop it or change it. And then I think, what if this is chronic pain? What if this is what my body feels like for the rest of my life?! And I very dramatically think, I would jump off a bridge.

Which, of course, I wouldn't, and let's face it - there are thousands of folks out there who live with chronic pain that's probably 100 times worse than this sciatica thing every single day of their lives who continue to be productive members of society and are happy and live quality lives. And I guess maybe this whole experience has made me realize just how important exercise is to me and just how much it's come to define who I am now that I no longer define myself as Ms. Smoke-all-the-cigarettes-and-drink-all-the-beer-and-always-party-party-party Lady. And that's good. I'd much rather be the "fitnessy friend" than that other chick. But right now I can't be fitnessy and my relationship with food is crap.

I did take some time today to figure out what I would need to eat on a regular basis in order to hit 150 grams of protein a day. It's a pretty delicious and simple menu, too. And, honestly, I've been so mad at myself for this whole pizza debacle tonight that I had completely forgotten all about this until now. Part of me is angry because I feel like I can't fully start doing it until I can get back over to the grocery store, which feels like forever away, but really is only 2 days. I need to try to maintain some level of rationality and not sabotage myself. I've already thawed something for dinner tomorrow night, so I'm covered there. (Plus: leftover cheap pizza.) There's no reason I can't cook a decent egg breakfast in the morning. As I write all this out I'm realizing tomorrow is another day and another chance to make better decisions. And one Taco Bell, pizza filled day isn't going to put me back at 230 pounds. Sometimes it may feel that way, but it isn't physically possible. Other than this I've done very well with my week. I just miss exercise so damn much. I had a plan, man! I had a calendar put together! I factored in the rest of this week/weekend for walks and leg rehab, and then Monday I was going to start back up with regular strength training interspersed with walks/runs and plenty of yoga to prevent this muscle inflammation nonsense. But it looks like we may be well into October before I can actually do that... and then come the holidays and trips and that's bound to get me thrown off-schedule. But maybe I shouldn't think that way, maybe I need to just be positive and tell myself it's delayed but not over. Life will go on.

I guess I've just been so mean to myself this last week and that's set me back quite a bit in my emotional growth and body acceptance and all that jazz. And it all started with noticing this fat roll... a braver me would post a picture, but it's truly disgusting to me at this time and I would be mortified to share with anyone. It's like this isn't even my body anymore because my body doesn't look like that. In my head I'm still 17 and 142 pounds. ...I digress. So, this fat roll... it's what I've affectionately called in the past my Mommy Roll. It's between my belly button and my pubic area -- basically where my skin got all stretched out during my pregnancies and then happily filled itself in with fat after those pregnancies. It had diminished quite a bit last year, came back a little bit over the winter, and then shrank back down a little in the spring as I powered through my #100daysofchange challenge. Well, it's back in full-force right now. In all it's disgusting glory. And it... it, like, hangs over the waistband of my underwear. Which screams to me that I should probably no longer wear bikini-cut underwear, except that anything other than bikini-cut would come above my pants waistband and nobody wants to see that, nor do I think that would be very comfortable. As I was getting undressed for the shower earlier this week, I bent over to take my socks off and noticed it... and then after I got totally nude I stood, bent-over in front of the mirror just staring at this utter betrayal from my body. How could my body do this to me?! After all my hard work?! After all the toil and stress and obsession I put into being "fit" and "healthy"!! HOW DARE MY BODY DO THIS TO ME!

I wanted to cry.

This, of course, led me to start scrutinizing every other part of my body... which led to an inner-monologue much like this:
Jesus Christ, Jess. Look at your arms. What the fuck, man. What the hell. All that arm definition you had, gone. And your waist! I mean, aside from that disgusting Mommy Roll, look at the rest of your belly! How can you let yourself go like this? You're so fat and disgusting, I'm not even sure how you're managing to still fit in all your same clothes. ...well, I guess you're not still fitting in all of them. Those high-waist skinny jeans aren't looking so flattering anymore, are they? They make your belly look like the fricken Michelin Man. And those saddle-bags are getting larger, aren't they? Cottage cheese butt, check. Your breasts aren't holding up so well either there, babe. You lost all that fat and they shrank way down, now you're fattening back up everywhere except there and you've got zebra stripes all over. Guess it's a good thing nobody sees those but you, eh? 

Everything kind of came to a head when I found myself saying out loud the other night, "And I'm just so fat. And, like, not the more solid "chubby girl who hasn't had kids yet" fat, like just the disgusting I've-had-a-couple-babies-and-my-skin-just-never-quite-recovered FAT. It's all loose and mushy and jiggly and gross. It's a good thing I'm married, because I promise you no man other than my husband would want to have sex with this flabby body."

Dude, if somebody else said that about me, I'd never speak to them again... maybe... and here I am saying these things about myself. TO OTHER PEOPLE. Just freely admitting what low self-esteem I have and how little I value myself simply based on what my body looks like!

Maybe some of you are sitting there getting ready to compose some words of kindness and encouragement for me, and that's great and nice of you, but I can tell you right now - they don't help. Because you can't shut down the Mean Girl inside my head. Only I can do that, and I've done forgotten how at this point in time.

See, I believe these things about myself. You may say they aren't true -- I may even, in a moment of clarity, proclaim them to be untrue. But I believe them. And I could stand in front of a mirror for the rest of the night tonight reciting positive affirmations to myself and telling myself how beautiful and deserving of self-love and happiness I am, but I can't because I don't believe those things right now. And that is what has to change. I have to start believing (as I used to) that this body is worth my love, because I can't change my body with hate. And while I don't hate who I am as a person as much or as often as I once did, the positivity and love I found for myself as a human being pushed all that hate onto my body image. At least it feels that way right now.

What it all boils down to is this: I am disappointed in myself.

I made some good progress, I came to terms with my diet, I fought hard to stay in a balanced emotional place - and then I lost all of that. Or maybe I gave it all away. Life got stressful and overwhelming and I gave all those positive things away to let myself drown in the stress and sadness and worry. I started telling myself that I didn't deserve those healthy positive things because... why? I don't even know. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was just sad. I guess because I made bad decisions in the past I deserved to fuck up my body? Who knows? There's no real logic behind it. But it happened. And I've struggled all year to get back to a place of motivation and I feel like that's all been destroyed by this sciatica. Being angry is too hard right now because that feels stupid - how can you be angry at something that can't be helped? But for some reason it makes sense for me to just hate my body.

Because that'll help it heal... /sarcasm\

I just need to push through these next few weeks and see how things go.

Some positive things about today: my doc gave me a referral to a physical therapist, so that may speed my recovery. She didn't seem to think the nerve inflammation was caused by any bigger spinal/disc issue. And she genuinely seemed concerned for my depression and how things may worsen as we come into the fall/winter with my lovely Seasonal Affective Disorder. She prescribed me a low dose of Wellbutrin and we'll see how that goes.

With the medication, I am both excited and terrified to begin taking it. I'm hopeful that it will help me not only in my personal life but also to focus and be more productive in my professional life. But the worrier in me is anxious about possible side-effects, and the hippie in me is disappointed that I couldn't "fix" myself with diet and exercise. ...but if you're too depressed to really reign in your diet and consistently exercise, how is that gonna work, hm? Exactly.

Sorry that this became so much negative brain vomit, but I'm feeling quite a bit better now that I've gotten it all out there. I will try to organize a little bit and post the high-protein plan I've put together for myself, as well as get a snapshot of my workout calendar up here - even if most of it just says "Walk/stretch" for the next couple weeks.

What's up with me right now

Well, I started drafting a substantial update last Wednesday, but never could focus long enough to finish it or polish it and getting it posted.

Good thing I started writing it, though, because if I didn’t have that discombobulated draft I couldn’t even begin to tell you anything that I was thinking/feeling/doing last week.

Wednesday was a major roller-coaster of emotion. I didn’t sleep well Tuesday night which led to a grumpy mood Wednesday morning, which led to me griping at my kids, which led to my kids being in a bad mood. Coming in to work added to my irritation when my usual 30 minutes of peace and quiet in the mornings was interrupted by everyone deciding to come in early. My brain was all over the place, I had a rough time focusing. I kept thinking of all the chores and errands I needed to accomplish/could have been accomplishing in place of being stuck at work. Oddly enough I managed to get tons accomplished work-wise. I have no idea how. Even though I was unable to take my lunch hour, I was still able to take a walk in the afternoon and that definitely helped. Unfortunately the chaos just continued in the afternoon and after I returned home at the end of the day.

I got really down on myself and was incredibly stressed out. I wanted to emotional eat like it was my job. It was a bizarre reaction and a feeling I didn’t really know how to deal with. Normally when I’m stressed or depressed food becomes my last priority and I just don’t have much of an appetite; I was feeling this way earlier this month. But this day the desire to binge came on strong. I don’t know how to explain it. It was all I could do not to eat the 4 cupcakes on the top of my fridge and then move on to the 2200 calories worth of pie I had baked earlier in the week. (More on the pie later.) I ended up having one cupcake, a few oreos, and then some fruit and kettlecorn – but I went to bed that night “hungry”. I use quotes there because it wasn’t stomach hunger, it was emotional hunger. I’m 100% sure this was all me trying to punish myself for one thing or another. Punishment seems to be a trend of mine lately. The negative self-talk came on full-force the next day, with the usual mantra of, “Well I guess I’ll just be fat forever since [enter ridiculous illogical reason here].”

It’s funny how the pie began as a stress reliever; the process of the prepping and mixing, the quiet of the house as the kids slept and Mike was out for the night, listening to some quiet music while doing it all, only for the end result to become a bane on my existence.

I made the mistake of entering the recipe into MyFitnessPal to calculate the nutritional information, which came out to 450 calories a slice. Steep, huh? I think I subconsciously told myself I couldn’t eat any pie. Period. Look at the calories, look at the carb count, look at the sugar. I couldn’t possibly eat any of that pie. So, of course, I immediately wanted to eat the whole thing. I briefly debated at 3am one morning going down to the kitchen and eating it straight from the pie plate in the light of the fridge. The pie just perpetuated my negative inner monologue. I even wrote on Facebook a couple days later, “I don’t want to be a big fatso, but I also want to be able to eat all the delicious things whenever I want them.” It amazed/amazes me how I could go from “There’s no reason I can’t stick to a caloric deficit and good food choices for 6 weeks. 6 weeks isn’t long at all.” And then proceeded to stay within my deficit only 50% of the time – if that. That’s not a real spectacular track record, and this is what leads me to feeling like I better learn to love this body that I’m in because I sure as shit can’t seem to change what it looks like or how healthy it is. I don’t want the stress of tracking all my food, but I also feel like I’m not capable of eating intuitively and healthy and at a deficit right now. Not that I’m eating particularly healthy right now, but at least I’m aware of how poorly I’m eating… if that makes sense…?

I also told myself last week that I would get back to strength training no matter how beginner the program needed to be. That hasn’t happened. Not even come CLOSE to happening. I did plenty of walking and a little bit of running, but shin splints derailed me pretty hard core with any real running action. Then I woke to a little back pain Saturday morning, which quickly morphed into major back pain Sunday morning. Tuesday I did all right and since my normal tennis date got rained out, I took about a 30 minute walk with my dad instead. Apparently that wasn't smart, even though it felt good. I woke up this morning (Weds) in lots of pain. The longer I was awake and moving around, the worse it got. I couldn't sit or lie down. The only thing that felt okay was standing or walking, and even those options weren't great. I could get in my car to drive into work. I had shooting pain going down my right leg and my muscles and tendons felt so tight they might snap. I started flipping out and crying and my husband took me to the doctor. I have a round of steroids to take now and was giving some muscle relaxers. I haven't actually taken the muscle relaxers yet.. I'm a little scared of them. Tonight at bedtime I'll likely have to, though, in order to be able to get any relief or rest. This is just adding to my less-than-stellar mental place and I'm struggling with keeping a positive outlook and have found myself getting caught up in the thought process of "I'm going to have to deal with this pain forever" several times today. My doctor seemed to think this was kind of a freak occurrence, and I'm hoping for the same. 

I’ve been so angry and frustrated by my body’s absolute refusal to cooperate with the normal calories in/calories out adage. As I said above, I haven’t been super compliant, but even with my “cheating” I should have still seen a pound or two of weight loss over the last month – but there’s been nothing. At the doc this morning I weighed in at 200 pounds. Now, I understand I’d already eaten breakfast and I was wearing all my clothes, jewelry, had my phone in my pocket, etc. But it really hit me hard to see that number. And I guess I need to get over that feeling because it isn’t going to change without the hard work and sacrifice that I’m obviously not committed to making at this time. The fact of the matter is, my hormones and general body chemistry are working against me right now. I’m not helping myself by continually over-indulging in sweets and alcohol and other simple carbs. I’m not helping myself by avoiding strength training and over-doing cardio to the point of injury. This round of prednisone certainly isn't going to help anything and I'm hoping it won't affect my appetite like I've seen it do to friends and family who have had to have short rounds. But, honestly, if I gain 5 pounds and never have to experience muscle pain like this again, it might be worth it. 

While suffering through the worst shin splints I’ve ever had and now this back pain, I’m slowly coming around to the realization that I need to slow down and take it easy. I need to be better to my body. Yes, there was a time where I was in decent shape. That time is not now. I’m not doing myself any favors by rushing into things and causing myself injury. I’m not benefitting from this sort of behavior in any way. I think it’s just its own form of self-sabotage. Until I’m 100% healthy (including this never-ending cold-that-is-now-a-sinus-infection), I need to focus on walking instead of running, making sure I’m doing some gentle stretching/yoga daily if possible, and a beginner strength routine starting with body weight and working up from there once my back can handle it. I put a calendar together for myself last night, but I'm afraid today's back issue may derail a lot of that. I'm not sure I can do even the basic yoga poses I had planned for myself for today, but that's okay. It has to be okay, because I have to let this muscle inflammation heal before I can attempt to do any kind of regular exercise other than walking (although maybe even that, since walking seemed to be what irritated this flare-up further).

All or nothing?

So, I’ve been sitting here wondering to myself why I just can’t seem to make the scale move, and basically what that comes down to is this: I’m an idiot.

Here I’ve been feeling like I’ve been doing “pretty well” with my calorie/macro tracking, deciding that one (or two or three) high-cal days aren’t “hurting anything” because in my head it somehow magically balances out… but as I said, I’m an idiot.

My ass has essentially been eating at maintenance the last few weeks. Which is great in the sense that that means I’m no longer eating ABOVE maintenance and therefore no longer continuing to slowly gain weight – but it does mean that the scale and tape-measure are going to continue showing me the same results each month because I’m not putting myself in a deficit except maybe 3 days a week.

Now this is where it all gets a little tricky. A couple weeks ago I dove back into regular exercise pretty hardcore. I went from running once or twice a week and playing tennis once a week to running 3 or 4 times a week, playing tennis, and now this week reincorporating strength training. This may be TMI, but I’ll tell you my menstrual cycle is a wreck and doesn’t know what to do with itself, which is a pretty tell-tale sign that my hormones are going nuts. So while I’m regularly eating anywhere from 2500-3000 calories a day when my deficit goal is to eat between 2100-2300, the reason I’m eating that higher range is because I am all of a sudden starving all the time.

Now, I know I recently wrote that my appetite had been crappy and it was making it easier to eat less and eat better – but clearly my appetite has come back with a vengeance. I wish I could say it’s because my emotional health is doing better, but it’s not. In fact, some days I wonder if I’m worse than just a week or so ago. So the only thing I can figure is that increase in physical activity = spike in hunger and appetite. This is kind of a “duh”, but I just can’t believe with the amount of fat I packed on over the summer that my metabolism has somehow magically sky-rocketed into the 3,000’s TDEE level requiring me to be able to maintain a deficit while eating roughly 2500 calories a day. I mean, that would be nice and all – but it just doesn’t seem very realistic.

As most of you know, I recently started using the FitBit Flex again. According to that, with my increased activity levels over the last 2 weeks, I’m rocking about a 2800 calorie TDEE. Fine and dandy, but even so, I should not be “starving” at a 2100-2300 goal range. That’s ridiculous.

I’m incredibly frustrated right now. I struggle with consistency – in fact, it’s the one thing I’m consistent with – but I feel like during the times that I am consistent I should see some sort of progress. Sometimes I am consistent for months at a time! And still, nothing. Consults with my doctors over the last 8 months don’t show any type of hormonal imbalance, thyroid issues, pre-diabetes, etc. – any and all of which would be a reason that I find it so difficult to lose weight/fat. It makes me feel like I’m a just a lazy fatso with no self-control. I get caught up in this feeling of “it’s so easy for everyone else”, except I know that it isn’t. Everyone has their struggles. Everyone has to decide which sacrifices they’re willing to make. Then I think maybe I’m just not willing to make the necessary sacrifices. That is both true and untrue.

I wonder if my self-sabotage comes from a punishment place. I also wonder if my recent increase in exercise comes from a punishment place, as well. Part of it is definitely coming from a fear place. I’m terrified if I stop regularly running (at the very least) I’ll slip into an even deeper depression. About the only time I feel “good” these days is the 2 hours after a run or tennis - I honestly don’t remember if I got the same endorphin high after doing my strength circuits the other night. This is probably another reason why the impending winter is terrifying me. What will happen if I can’t get that regular cardio in? On top of my normal S.A.D.? That just seems like an emotional disaster waiting to happen.

So back to the food thing for a moment… I’ve decided effective immediately, I’m going to start following the Eat More 2 Weigh Less philosophy. I’m going to stick to my 2300 calories, unless I have an extremely high burn day. If at the end of 6 weeks I’ve seen zero change in either weight or measurements, then it’s time to adjust a little bit. There’s no reason I can’t do this for 6 weeks. It’s just really not that much time. I’m also thinking about getting back to either New Rules of Lifting or Female Body Breakthrough for weight training, since EM2WL strongly recommends heavy lifting.

Speaking of lifting… as I mentioned a couple paragraphs up, I did some strength circuits the other night. For those of you that follow my Instagram account, you know this nearly killed me. I’m back at square-one strength-wise and it’s got me feeling really dismayed. I am still sore from that workout and almost everything was simply bodyweight… the weighted exercises I found myself having to resort to my 8lbs dumbbells. This is what happens when you quit completely for a couple months and then ramp up the cardio. In Bro Speak: you kill gains. My gains are so dead right now. What’s even more upsetting is that I know I won’t be making very many new gains eating at a deficit… but, honestly, right now I’m in a real “run it off then bulk it up” mentality. That I can most certainly tell you comes from a punishment place. I love the running, don’t get me wrong. I already talked about how it helps keep my already-low mood somewhat stable. But I am feeling very “fuck it” right now with strength training. I want faster results, man. I couldn’t tell you if running with actually do this for me, since when I was training for my 5K I was holding fat like nobody’s business, but I’m really wanting to see some change on the scale.

I know, I know. Scale isn’t everything. I feel like I practically invented that mantra within my social circle. But right now the scale is everything to me and I want to see it move, damnit. And if that means I’m “skinny fat” at 170lbs, then so be it. If that means the scale bumps up to 180 when I start working toward strength gains and muscle hypertrophy, I’m okay with that. But right now I am so sick of flirting with 200lbs. 195 is too damn close. I’m over it. I can’t see that number anymore. It’s driving me insane. I can’t get right with it.

I wish I could say this talk is coming from my Deep Dark Depression Place, but really I think I was just lying to myself when I wrote that I could be “okay” with this weight and body aesthetic for the rest of my life. Who knows anymore?! Maybe I’ll start an anti-depressant, find a therapist that works better with me and offers me the tools I’m looking for, and get right with myself emotionally and all of a sudden love the hell out of this body I’m in. Part of me hopes that happens. But right now, punishment or not, something’s gotta give. And it sure as hell isn’t my mental state, so it may as well be my physical.

I’m not trying to say that being skinny or “cut” or whatever is going to magically make me happy or lower my stress levels or make me love my job more or make my kids behave better or make me more money, but at least I won’t have to feel so guilty about being fat anymore. At least that will be one thing I can cross OFF of my List of Failures.

…I’m sorry. This got kind of real dark real fast, and I didn’t intend that to happen. It ain’t all about skinny, it’s mostly about healthy. But it’s some about skinny, too. Just like the smoking and the drinking if driving, this needs to be a non-negotiable for me. I can’t give up on myself just because it’s easier to eat mini candy bars at work all day and follow that up with some Oreos or maybe Dairy Queen at night. Talk about punishment. Fuck. I deserve better than that. I deserve to eat those things sometimes because I really want to eat them, not because “I may as well”.

I deserve to be healthy and happy. And if I can’t be happy, I can at least make my best effort at healthy.

100 things inside my brain

I’ve had so many topics bouncing around inside my head the last several days. I don’t even know where to start, so I’m just going to write and see what happens…

A couple weeks ago I wrote about my confidence and security in my body, my lifestyle, etc. It’s amazing how quickly/easily things can change! The end of last week saw me suffering through some serious self-esteem/body-image issues. I sat down to write about it about 6 different times and could never get it finished and posted. Some of it no longer applies, but I’m going to pull some pieces out of those almost-updates and stick them in here to try to come up with some kind of a coherent explanation of what’s going on inside my head this last week or so.

First things first: I’ve lost just about all my motivation for exercise/workouts. It’s not just one thing or the other, it’s everything. Lifting doesn’t sound appealing, circuits don’t sound appealing. Running? Nope. Just a little walk? Maybe. But only if it happens in the middle of the day and prevents me from having to do work, y’know, at work. Tennis has still sounded fun and been fun – that’s the one thing I’ve done for purposeful exercise in the last 10 days. But my dad is my usual tennis partner, and I can’t expect him to be available to me every single night. (Or can I? Heh.)

At first I was thinking maybe I just was a little burnt out. Maybe it would do me some good to get a rest week in, focus on getting things ready for our 4^th of July BBQ we hosted for a few friends, take some time to relax with Mike, do some reading, some writing, etc.

That was all well and good for the first few days. By last Wednesday, though, it became clear that I was stuck in a pretty serious case of the I Don’t Wanna’s. I began drafting a blog update, saying how all was not lost, that I could just make myself get the workout in that night, put the damn candy down, resolve to make better food choices and carry on my merry way.

…but then Mike was having a bad day. Work was putting a lot of pressure and stress on him and he was feeling bad about how he handled some things with the kids recently. I didn’t want to add to that pressure by asking him to take on full responsibility for dinner and both kids bath/bedtimes so that I could get my 45 minute workout in before showering and leaving for trivia… so I didn’t. I skipped the workout, telling myself that I could get back on track Thursday evening – which would be better anyway seeing as we would be hosting people Friday night and there would be no workout time anyway. I did tennis Tuesday, so then regular workout Thursday and again Saturday and BOOM! Back on track! Back on program! Back in the game!

Do I really need to tell you that none of that happened? Sigh.

I will give myself some props for getting to bed at incredibly decent hours all weekend, which is phenomenal considering this was a holiday weekend. I even stayed home all weekend. I laid off the booze. I spent a lot of time with my kids and my husband. These were all good things, all positive things. I will say I walked to and from our local farmer’s market Friday, and to and from the little playground near our house Sunday. Not to mention all the cleaning I did Friday and Saturday. I did things, I was active, I just wasn’t “working out”.

Sunday afternoon/evening I started feeling the familiar pangs of depression creeping back in on me. I acknowledged it, mentioned it to Mike, and then went about the evening as normal. Monday morning I woke up feeling pretty decent. My mood seems a little more level today and I’m holding onto that and trying to keep it going. I’ve been pretty up for a couple weeks now, and I’d like things to stay that way. I’ve gotten into a good groove at work, and while I still think there are some changes I’d like to make in my professional life and career ambitions, right now things are feeling quite a bit less hopeless than they were back at the beginning of June. I worry sometimes I’m becoming complacent, but as long as I’m not entirely miserable maybe complacency isn’t so bad, right?

Now to start going all over the place with stuff, since I can’t really decide how to segue…

1) I’ve been on this candy kick for a couple weeks now. At first I was like, “Oh, well, my period. Because: female things. Hormones. Okay, cool.” But the thing about sugar is: it’s kind of addicting. I’ve been consciously trying to scale back on the sugar intake, but I think my recent obsession with fruit hasn’t helped much. Yes, it’s naturally occurring sugar mixed with healthy fiber and vitamins/minerals – but it’s still sugar and I’m still overloading myself with it, processed or not. I began thinking a lot about Primal Eating last week. I read The Primal Blueprint last summer and it all made sense to me. Now, I’m well aware of the recent evidence that’s come out against these gluten and grain-free diets. I’m all about everything-in-moderation because my #1 sabotage trigger is to start telling myself a certain type of food or activity is forbidden. But, with that being said, I also know it certainly couldn’t hurt me to choose leafy greens and vegetables over grain-based carbs more often. So over the weekend I started trying to do that. I bought lots of salad greens and veggies and have made myself big salads the last couple days using just plain old olive oil and white balsamic vinegar for dressing. When I wanted to snack Sunday night I went for the carrots and hummus vs the cheese and Townhouse crackers. Bit by bit I’m going to reign my food choices back in. I entertained the notion of starting to log calories again for a brief moment – I even put my breakfast in yesterday morning. But by the time I got through lunch, the idea of logging everything again brought on some serious anxiety. I don’t know why. Maybe a feeling of “failing” at intuitive eating. I think I still need to leave it alone for now. This wasn’t months of poor eating choices turning into habits… this was 2 weeks of eating more sweets than I probably needed. Not going back to counting just yet.

2) I’m becoming really fixated on aesthetic vs health and it’s driving me to a dark place. I get hung up on the way these fitness professionals/models and athletes look and I wish that were my body. But the thing is I know the strict discipline that goes into looking like that – the bland diet, the hours of training, etc – and I know that I’m not interested in making the sacrifices I would have to make to “get there”. Because the thing is, you can’t look like that 365 days a year every year for the rest of your life. Existing on sweet potatoes, broccoli, and chicken breasts gets old pretty quick. I love food, I love beer, and I love being really lazy sometimes. I also love the way I look and feel in my body most of the time. I’m not sure where this pressure on myself is coming from right now, but it’s making the idea of getting back “#onprogram” stress me the fuck out. I’ve also found myself shying away from my runs because I’ve somehow managed to convince myself that any cardio that isn’t specifically metabolic training is just “making me fat”. Don’t even ask where that came from. The “sweet spot” is supposed to be between 10-20 miles a week before you run the risk of your metabolism being affected negatively (depending on myriad of other factors as well!!) – and I’m not even hitting 5 miles most weeks (or ever). I think this is one of those situations where I’ve over-educated myself and now that education is attacking my psyche. I need to calm down and remind myself what it is I really love doing. If that’s a “program”, great. But the fact of the matter is, I’ve never been good at sticking to a program for longer than 4-6 weeks. #100daysofchange began with doing something a little different every day or every couple days to keep myself interested and active, and I lost that toward the end.  I think I forgot it until now. Maybe I just need to go back to that. Do some strength, do some cardio, do some HIIT/metabolic training, and do it a little differently every couple times to keep it fun and interesting.

3) Weight loss. I made the mistake of stepping on the scale about a week ago. I don’t know why. It was Sunday afternoon (afternoon = never a good time to weigh yourself anyway), I’d been drinking heavily most of the weekend, eating TONS of salty junk food, barely sleeping, and generally not taking very good care of myself. On top of being right in the middle of my period, so natural water retention even without all the other crap. The scale read 199.8. I flipped out a little bit. It’s stupid. It doesn’t matter. My clothes fit and look better than they did 6 months ago, my body composition continues to change and shift toward more muscle mass… 199 doesn’t mean anything. Except, in that moment, it meant EVERYTHING. I think this is where everything started; the avoiding exercise, the persistently in giving in to my sweets cravings, the general lack of enthusiasm for my health and fitness. After all, what’s the point if the scale isn’t moving?

It’s so stupid.

For me, seeing the scale move ceased being “the point” of this whole thing months and months and months ago. But I think a big part of me thought that by being active and eating healthier, by putting in the time and energy, it would continue to move down as the months passed. I haven’t been doing what I would have to do in order to push through the plateau. I’m not willing to at this point. That’s okay. But it’s not okay to think I’m a worthless person because I may teeter right around 200 pounds for the rest of my life. Being 20 pounds heavier than I’d like to be doesn’t define my worth as a human being. But I forget that all the time. It’s very sad, really. I should be kinder to myself.

So where do I go from here? I honestly don’t know.

Here’s what I do know:

• My mental health will suffer greatly if I stop regularly exercising - my day-to-day lifestyle just isn't active enough to drop purposeful exercise
• My mental health will suffer if I don’t continue to focus on a healthy diet
• Feeling sorry myself won’t make me leaner, in fact it will likely have the opposite effect

So, there we go. Good food and a good sweat have to be non-negotiable for me. 

Post-draft update:

I made myself go do some running intervals last night. It felt really good. I'm tired as hell today, but looking forward to tennis tonight and maybe some more running intervals tomorrow. 

Tuning In... Finally

Yesterday, after writing that whole big hullabaloo about how I'm accepting my body and moving past my obsession with obsessing over food, I found myself thinking, "I've been eating way too many sweets for the last week. What the hell is this about? I've had to have something sweet everyday for like 6 days!" This immediately sent me into, "Maybe I need to start tracking again, maybe I can't just eat intuitively, maybe I'm going to gain back all that fat, maybe I need to restrict..."

And then I had a light bulb moment after noticing I had a random low back ache: I'm due to start my period at any moment. Of course I've been craving and subsequently eating sweets for the last several days. Hormones are a bitch, I tell you. And my skin is reacting accordingly by breaking out with a vengeance. This is what happens. It's normal.

Instead of beating myself up for not having greater willpower and avoiding the sweets at all costs, I just realized that some Oreo cookies and a few handfuls of peanut m&m's over the course of a week isn't going to undo everything I've been working on for 4 years. It's just not. Especially when the rest of my diet has been just fine. It's been an emotional week, as well, so I definitely don't need the added stress of a negative inner-monologue following me around everywhere. I'm finally tuning into my body in a way I haven't been able to due since high school.

...now, if only I could be better about making it gets the amount of sleep its constantly begging me for. Something to work on!

Update!!

I've had a really hard time focusing on just about anything lately, which is why I've sort of actively been avoiding trying to write an update for the blog. I'm a little all over the place, but a couple things have been on my mind lately - and organized or not, I'm going to try to write about them now.

1) Focusing on fun.

As many of you Regular Readers know, I've been struggling with depression for a little over a year now, and recently it's been creeping back into the "worse and worse" area from the "improving" side it hung out in for a few weeks back in March/April. Week before last, after going through 3 days of arguing and screaming with my husband about how I want to move forward with my career/lack of one, I sort of resigned myself to being miserable and slept a lot of the weekend away. But then last Monday my husband asked me a very important question: "Do you ever have fun anymore?"

I replied, "I like hanging you with you." Then he said, "Liking me isn't the same as having fun." Which is true. And I realized, no. I don't really have fun anymore. I'm too busy with work, being angry and depressed over work, trying to be Super Wife/Mom at home (and feeling like I'm forever failing), and generally being frustrated and irritated with everything/everyone to really focus on enjoying myself or having fun in anything I do. I realized I had only done 2 things recently that I really considered "fun" - one was going to play trivia with a group of friends (which has become a weekly gathering), and the other was baking a pie for my dad for Father's Day. "But I can't go to trivia EVERY night or bake a pie every day." Well, no. But I could do those things a couple times a week and have a little enjoyment...

So, the other day it was kind of hot and disgusting here in Virginia, so I set up the baby pool with Nolan when we got home from work/daycare in the evening. I was sitting outside with him, dipping my feet in the water, while reading a book - and he kept trying to dump water on my head. I started to get frustrated and angry, but instead decided to put the book down and play with him. It made him super happy and in-turn made me happy. It was fun. And I realized, I have to do these things. It's not going to fix everything - it may not fix anything - but at least if someone asks me if I ever have fun anymore, I can say, "Yes, sometimes." instead of having to honestly realize, "No, never." and wallow in how depressing that is.

The #356daysofchange campaign/challenge/whatever-you-want-to-call-it was supposed to be about mental wellness as well as physical wellness, and focusing on fun is a step in the right direction. I continued the trend by going out Friday night for the margaritas and Mexican food I've been craving for weeks, seeing my good friend's band play Saturday, and attending a last-minute pool party Sunday afternoon. I am now a bit exhausted and looking forward to a few nights in this week, but I felt like I was able to really enjoy my weekend for the first time in a long while.

2) It takes a long time to get fit/reach the body aesthetic/weight you want.

Not for everybody, but for lots of bodies. It's easy to get sucked in to the "success story". The person who lost 100 lbs (or more) in a year (or less), the person who switched to a Paleo-style diet and cured their Type 2 diabetes and high blood pressure within a matter of months, the person who shed 10% of their body fat in 6 months. These are major successes, but rare is it to read the success story of the person who reached their goal (whatever that may be; weight, body fat percentage, clothing size, cholesterol level, etc.) over the course of 4 or 5 (or 6 or 10) years. I sometimes feel as if people don't consider those to be real successes; that if you can't do it within a year, it really isn't worth celebrating or acknowledging.

In September, it'll have been 4 years since I started really working on losing weight and getting healthy. There was a pregnancy in the middle there, but losing weight and getting healthy was still on mind throughout the entire process. I couldn't tell you what I weigh today, but I betcha it's about 192 lbs. I've weighed right around that for 18 months. Sometimes I feel like this is a failure. But when I look at my body, the way my clothes fit, how I feel in the middle of a run or a workout - I'm a success. My body is completely different at THIS 192 lbs than at 2013's 192 lbs... and even more so than JANUARY'S 192. I gained a lot of fat over the winter...

But that's part of my point: it's not always a direct line from A to B. Many more people struggle over the course of several years to reach their goal. It takes time to find a good nutritional balance, the type of exercise you enjoy/respond best to, to make things like diet and exercise a constant top priority - but also to find a balance between that and letting loose and having fun sometimes without obsessing over calories or "is this the healthiest choice" or feeling like "I'm going to have to run this off later".

I still have fat on my body that I don't want or feel is unattractive. But overall I'm beginning to feel really comfortable in this body and to really like the way it looks. I'm also starting to focus more on buying/wearing clothing that is flattering on my body now instead of what my body might look like in 2 years. That's helped a lot in the self-esteem department.

3) I'm finally free from food.

Okay, that's maybe a weird way to put it... but I am finally free of calorie counting. A lot of this has come along with my body acceptance, as well as my realization that I just can't "heathily" track calories. Meaning, no matter what I've said in the past, I just get too wrapped up and obsessed over calories and macros and end up just feeling horrible about myself most of the time instead of feeling like I'm accomplishing something worthwhile. Because I was so obsessed for so long, I now know what types of foods I need to eat in order to regularly meet my nutritional needs without tracking everything. I have no idea how many calories I usually eat. Some days I'm sure it's close to 3500, some days probably 1900. I don't care. I'm continuing to build muscle and lose fat and my clothes fit and look better every day.

I'm learning to enjoy my food and eat more mindfully. I've fallen in love with salmon lately and have been eating tons of that and other fish. Same with vegetables. Especially grilled! All the salmon and grilled vegetables all the time!! I can't wait to buy a new grill this weekend so I can start grilling things outside vs on my George Foreman.

I can't tell you how good it feels to be able to eat the ice cream if I want it, or drink the beer, or go out to eat without feeling like I need to exercise to compensate for the calories. And on top of this, I've noticed I don't feel the desire to eat junk nearly as often. Nothing is off-limits, and therefore I don't ever feel deprived. If I'm hungry, I eat. Without guilt. It's amazing.