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.

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.

I'm a lying liar!

I'm sure most of you probably anticipated this.... but: my venture into sobriety lasted all of 48 hours. After a lengthy talk with my husband Friday night (about many different things, not just the drinking thing), he at one point said, "Why are you doing this? I'm sorry if this is rude, but I think it's dumb. It's a total overreaction to one night." At first I was all, "Are you enabling me?!?!", but then quickly realized Mike isn't one to enable anyone about anything and if he truly thought I had "issues" with my alcohol consumption he would have told me a long time ago. He made a good point in that I over-drank, I drove when I didn't have any business driving, and it scared the shit out of me. That's not my norm. I don't get wasted and get behind the wheel. Clearly bad decisions were made and I'm lucky that I didn't hurt myself or anyone else. But Mike made the point that I'm totally capable of limiting my intake when I choose, that I rarely drink to get drunk, and that this "challenge" read more like self-punishment than self-improvement. 

That really rang with me. That's exactly what this was. This wasn't going to make me a happier, healthier person. It was just another thing to torture myself over, to be miserable about. It was dumb. It was dumb because I was lying to myself (and you) about the reason behind it.

So I dropped it. I’m dropping it. I had a few drinks Saturday night. It was fine. I didn’t drink to excess, I didn’t drink to be drunk, it didn’t make it any harder to get out of bed the next morning. I didn’t feel the need to have any more than what I had. I didn’t feel the need to drink again Sunday night. It just was what it was. And it was fine.

I’m a lying liar and I’m not going to quit alcohol for 30 days. I am going to be conscious of using alcohol to self-medicate and be sure to set hard limits for myself if I must drive. If I feel like I’m drinking because I don’t want to feel feelings anymore, well, that’s probably a good night not to drink.

Now, back to our regularly schedule programming: 

I recently returned to two old frenemies, MyFitnessPal and FitBit, for a daily dose of reality. I haven’t done any type of strength training in over a month and my adventures in cardio lack consistency. What’s left? Diet and steps. So I’m tracking it all again. I had gained weight. (Imagine that. Drinking tons of beer and eating whatever the fuck you want while not maintaining a decent exercise routine leads to weight gain. Who would have thought.) Not a ton of weight, but roughly 4 pounds. Clothing still fits the same, measurements are roughly the same, but I’m a little mushier than I was and would like to be.

Okay, let’s be honest: I’ve been a little mushier than I want to be for a while now. And while it’s excellent that I’ve had weeks and sometimes months of feeling really honestly good about myself as a person and the body that person lives in, it all eventually comes back around to feeling like I'm too heavy. And sometimes too big. And really none of that can change without a diet overhaul. And it's easy to eat a bunch of junk all the time when it's not staring you in the face in the form of a food journal.

As I spoke about in last week's utterly depressing update, I've had very little interest in food lately. This (bright-side) has made it relatively easy to make healthy choices since I have zero fucks to give about what I eat since nothing tastes delicious or happy these days. ...not that food should taste "happy"... but... "worth it", I guess. Except Oreos. Oreos always taste worth it. And other cookies... and ice creams... but I just try not to keep too much of that around lately. I've been living off a lot of Greek yogurt, fruit, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, giant salads, homemade vinaigrette, and salmon. Lately it's been very easy for me to under-eat, and I get hungry... but nothing really seems appetizing. Or I can't possibly be bothered to cook or fix myself something because sitting on the couch staring into space feeling sorry for myself is just so much more fun. The above list are all things that are quick and easy for me to make and therefore motivate to eat. Bonus that most of them are healthy.

So, I'm tracking calories/food journaling again and I received my replacement FitBit about 10 days ago and have once again returned to loyally wearing it day in and day out. So far I have yet to become completely obsessed with my step count and have not yet allowed that step count to determine how I feel about myself and my life. Key word here is "yet". I hope I can keep a healthy mindset about it and allow it to do its job in assisting me in my getting healthy process without taking over my every thought and feeling.

Lately I find myself wanting to schedule changes. "I'm going to quit drinking for 30 days!" (lies and fibs), "I'm going to get up and run every morning!" (so far, not happening) "I'm going to sit down and write a whole album's worth of new songs in a week!" "I'm gonna keep a notebook with me and write down positive thoughts everyday!" "I'm going to schedule lots of events to keep myself busy and distracted from hating life so much!"

While my intentions are really good on all this stuff, I also know this is a guaranteed way to make me feel horrible about myself. That's a lot of stuff. And realistically, I will probably only accomplish maybe one or two of those things (or none at all), and then feel like garbage for not doing everything I set out to do in whatever imaginary time-frame I've given myself to do them. (I don't have a time-frame for most of those things, but that doesn't mean I won't feel like I've failed them 4 days from now when I haven't done any of them -- or even a year from now, for that matter, having accomplish 2 or 3 of them.)

I'd like to think I'm trying to take my #365daysofchange challenge seriously by coming up with these accomplishments and activities I've set/scheduled for myself, but it doesn't come from that rational place - it comes from a distraction place. If I can't be happy or "live in the now" or rediscover my joy, then I'm sure as shit going to just keep myself so busy with social activities and "projects" that I don't have time to think about the fact that nothing is fun or exciting anymore. Instead I can just be focused on being busy and stressed out!! Because that's healthy!!

Anyways... so, bonus, I did realize I exercised every weekday last week. I ran Monday, tennised Tuesday, took a good walk Wednesday, ran again Thursday night, with another good walk Friday. I keep thinking to myself, "Maybe you should go down to the basement and lift some of those heavy iron things..." and then I'm like, "Nah, I'm good." I don't know what my deal is there. I've always loved strength training, but for some reason I've got it in my head lately that it "betrayed" me somehow. I'm sure that is partially a scale-weight response. It's also easier to blame the strength training than to blame myself for the inconsistency. I'm sure as the weather gets cooler and the daylight hours shorter (I'll talk more about that in a moment, too), I'll find myself gravitating less and less to my outdoor runs and more and more to the warm confines of my basement and the weights that live there. Right now I want to focus on consistent runs (if for nothing more than the mental health benefits), and consistent diet/calorie deficit.

I haven't done this in a long time, but here are my current stats:
Weight: 195 lbs on 8/2/14
Bicep (flexed): 12"
Bust: 38"
Under bust: 34"
Natural waist: 33"
Waist at navel: 37"
Hips: 44.5"
Thighs: 26"

And photos:

It is almost mind-boggling how quickly I pack on fat. These photos are a major departure from where I was at the end of my 100 day challenge, merely two months ago. Granted the lighting was more flattering from my 100th day, but I have the outtakes from those photos and even the "bad" ones are better than these.

I'm sick of being in the 190s. If I'm not going to increase muscle mass, I need to be closer to the 170s. That's just all there is to it. Pushing my body out of this set point is gonna be tough since I've been maintaining at this weight and general fat percentage level for a while. I'm hoping getting back to basics will get it done, but it may take a while to figure it all out. And some serious dietary discipline on my part.

My main concern at this time, however...  I mean, I don't know if y'all know or not, but winter is coming. And I don't mean that as a Game of Thrones reference, I mean it quite literally. We are just a handful of weeks away from the return to hoodie weather and 6pm sunsets. And I can.not.deal. I'm terrified and am having increased anxiety over the approach of fall and winter. It didn't even get warm here until June. And we've had maybe two weeks' worth of actual hot weather. All and all it's been a pretty mild summer, as my a/c bills can attest. This is a bunch of malarkey. Summer should be hot. And winter snow storms should not linger into April... much as low temperatures of 30s and 40s should not linger on into June. Not in Virginia. In Maine? Wisconsin? Winnipeg? Sure. Not here. No siree, Bob! ...moving to Florida is looking more and more appealing.

Saying goodbye to an important man...

Dear Readers,

I know you probably got really excited about my regular updates on somewhat interesting topics and personal struggles/experiences.

I’m sorry to have disappeared these last 8 days.

I just returned last night from an emergency trip down to Arkansas. My maternal grandfather unexpectedly passed away on July 17^th after suffering a major stroke. This came as a pretty big shock to my family as he had just beaten lung cancer a couple months ago and we were all hopeful that he would continue to regain weight and strength and be with us for a few years longer.

I left before dawn Saturday morning to be with my mom and her family and attend the funeral services – which were beautiful. My dad gave a wonderful eulogy that part of me wishes I had somehow recorded, even though that probably would have been inappropriate. My cousin, Jill, and I spent some great time together and bonded in a way we haven’t done since we were children. We even went running together a couple times and took a long walk one night - all of which proved very therapeutic for me.

While it’s a very sad time, everyone remained positive and upbeat and talked of happy memories and told funny stories – there were lots of tears, but more laughter, which I think speaks volumes about my Pa-paw and the life he lived and the memories we made with him. It was hard to leave yesterday and come home, even though I missed Mike and the kids a bunch. 

I left my copy of the obituary in my guitar case (Jill and I sang at the funeral service), which is currently still at my granny’s, but I intend to share that once it comes home with my dad and sister on Saturday. Granny did a wonderful job putting it together. I’ll also find a photo to post.

I wish I could put together a bunch of wonderful stories to share with you all, but I’m just not ready to do that. I’m struggling a bit with how to feel/how I do feel/how I should feel. I think in a lot of ways it’s just not real to me yet. While this isn’t the first family member I’ve lost, it is the first family member I’ve lost whom I was incredibly close to. My mom’s parents were like an extension of my parents – they were more than grandparents for me. And I think I’m just a little bit in shock right now and I’m afraid it may be coming across a little bit to my friends and family like I just don’t care or am in denial or something. I’m not. I’m just… in feelings limbo right now. Sometimes I’m really sad, sometimes I’m really numb, sometimes I just don’t want to talk about it, sometimes I feel at peace with it – as if something is telling me “it’s okay, it was time, and it’s okay”. I’m sure at some point in the near future it will all get very real for me and I’ll have a bit of a breakdown. Then again, maybe not. Maybe I’ll just be okay and have my own quiet mourning period.

For now, things will likely be “business as usual” on this blog and my other social media outlets, as well as in real life. This doesn’t mean I don’t care and it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m okay or unaffected. It just means I don’t know how to feel so I’m just going to do the things I normally do and see how it goes.

Thanks for reading,

Jess

Slipping

I made a very big mistake last week. I allowed myself to give in to my post-vacation blues (ha! "post-vacation") and after one workout I decided I would give myself a "break" and settle back into normal home/work routine. I kept up with my walks on my lunch breaks, but other than that I booked my social calendar, drank far too heavily and too often, ate whatever I wanted and as much as I wanted, and ended up burned out and emotionally wrecked by Saturday afternoon. My depression and frustration lead me to randomly go for a 3 mile run, which was great. It felt good, it was one of best pace times, it pushed me out of my funk. I "celebrated" by drinking more. Sunday was a BBQ for a friend's birthday - and I knew I shouldn't drink heavily, but I did anyway. I had a great time, but I paid for it today. I woke up on my own at 8am, but forced myself back to sleep until 10am. That was probably a bad idea - too much sleep seems to affect me in much the same way too little sleep does. I was lethargic and grouchy most of the morning/afternoon. A LOT of emotional eating happened today. A LOT. While it was no 4,000 calorie day like yesterday (although, yesterday I was legit hungry)... I've eaten a lot of sugar and carbs today. Very little fat and protein. This is a problem and did nothing in assisting with my energy level.

Needless to say, there was no getting back "#onpogram" today. I am wallowing here a little bit. I am hopeful tomorrow I can motivate and get back on track. I realized today that I'm quickly reaching the end-point of my #100daysofchange and I feel like I'm either sabotaging or it's all just kind of falling apart. If I can just get back into an exercise routine I know it will help me in 100 different ways, but I'm struggling with some pretty major feelings of... I don't even know how to explain it. "Unhappiness" feels too simple and mild of a word, but I guess that's it.

I want to change my whole life, but feel powerless to do so. I'm not comfortable laying it all out here on the blog right now, but I probably will at some point. I'm trying to figure out how I need to move forward in the immediate future because I find myself saying to myself repeatedly throughout the day nearly everyday, "I don't think I can do this anymore."

I think I know what changed... I think I know what triggered this, em, existential crisis? I am making a conscious effort everyday to say to myself, "These are blessings, you will be happy, you will have a great day, you're deciding to be positive." But that doesn't seem to be benefiting me much. It's supposed to be that simple, right? You just decide that what you have is good enough, that what you do everyday makes you happy, that you are grateful. ...maybe I'm just not very good at convincing myself any longer. I hate feeling this way.

So, all I can say is: I hope tomorrow is better. I hope I can motivate to workout or at least run. I hope I can avoid emotionally eating tons of sugar. I hope I can level out a bit.

50 days in and so many changes!

So, here I am at the 50 day mark, halfway through my #100daysofchange! The biggest thing I’ve gained from this experiment so far definitely has to be the improvement in my attitude and mood. There have still be been bad days, but they are becoming few and far between.

In the last 50 days I have:

Done some form of exercise/physical activity every day

Made an effort to sleep at 7-8 hours every night

Quit smoking

Cut back drinking

Stopped drinking caffeine

Stopped taking birth control in order to regulate mood and get rid of increased migraine frequency

Inadvertently started spending more time at home with my husband and children

Started playing guitar/writing music again

I haven’t had a migraine in weeks. I have only “broken” and smoked 2 cigarettes since March 8^th. I will use an e-cigarette on the weekends when I’m drinking, but even that I find myself using less and less. Sometimes it’s enough just to hold it. I found a major, major, MAJOR connection between sleep and alcohol intake with how depressed I am/was. If I sleep at least 6.5 hours, I’m okay. Anything less than that and I feel really depressed for 2 or 3 days. Similarly, if I drink 4 beers or less, I’m okay. Anything more than that and I feel really depressed for the next day or two. COMBINE lots of alcohol and less than 6.5 hours of sleep? We’re looking at a whole week of feeling pretty severely depressed and the desire to slip back into bad habits.

I think quitting caffeine has helped with my migraines quite a bit, and going off birth control may be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made for my physical and mental health. And, no, I’m not trying to have another baby. Various other forms of birth control are being used CONSISTENTLY, and I’m tracking my basal temp and cycles in order to avoid high fertility days completely. While I think recognizing how important sleep is when it comes to my mood, the lack of faux hormones has also had a big impact. I feel more in control of my emotions overall. This could all be psychosomatic, but I’ll take it regardless.

So far I’m really enjoying this journey. I still haven’t found my “thing” when it comes to diet/fitness and that equaling weight loss, but I think I’m starting to realize that shouldn’t even be my focus in this whole experience. I recently have been questioning myself regularly regarding my feelings of disappointment on the scale not moving (or not moving in the direction I want it to). Do I enjoy the exercise I choose to do? Yes. Does it make me feel good to eat more things like fish and veggies? Yes, absolutely. Do I feel comfortable in my body and the clothes I choose to wear? For the most part. I still have “trouble areas” that I feel negatively about, and I still have days that are filled with Fat & Ugly attacks, but overall I feel okay with how I look. So if I’m happy, healthy, and comfortable – why should weight loss even be an issue? I don’t know the answer to that right now. “Because I want the scale to reflect my hard work” comes to mind, but the scale is a terrible judge of how hard someone is working to improve their overall physical and mental health. This is one of those pieces of information that I know to be true and yet still have a hard time believing for whatever reason.

So I still struggle with scale-weight, and I still struggle with calorie tracking. These past two weeks I’ve been wanting to jump back on the quit-calorie-tracking train. It’s starting to really stress me out again. I put myself in a 400 calorie deficit from what I found to be my maintenance number and I’ve upped my exercise significantly. I initially lost a few pounds, but now I’ve gained those back. A couple people suggested that since I increased my exercise (and therefore TDEE), I might need to be eating more. WHO KNOWS?! I try to following what my FitBit shows, especially on high activity days, but I just don’t really know what my true TDEE is. These are all estimates. So, it could be WAY higher, or WAY lower. Although I think if it were too much lower I’d be gaining a lot more weight than just a few pounds over the course of 2 months… It’s such a pain in the butt, and this is why I sometimes feel like I need to just leave it alone. My most successful adult weight loss came from doing strength training regularly (though lazily – not pushing myself or upping weight, etc.), slacking on cardio, not counting calories but eating most my meals at home (and mostly packaged, at that), and indulging in beer and bar food 2 or 3 times a week. Go figure. I know I’ve said this before, but it’s like I need to unlearn all these things I’ve educated myself on in the last year or more. So I’m a little stuck there.

Overall I’m really proud of how far I’ve come in my lifestyle changes in the last 50 days, but there are obviously still things I struggle with and things that I still need to work on.

Enjoy some (slightly blurry) progress photos from April 13th:

Here’s to the next 50 days!

Flipping out and finding solace

Okay, I know it’s only been 3 weeks… but I had been eating at maintenance (or doing a “refeed”) from November to the beginning of March, so I’m feeling like a 15-20% cut from TDEE should be leading to SOME weight loss. SOME.

I lost 3 lbs the first week back counting calories, and have proceeded to lose nothing in the last 2 weeks even though I’ve stuck to the same types of foods, the same calorie range, and have increased my activity significantly. I began my first week of #100DaysOfChange doing mostly yoga and dance games on the Wii. My second week I jumped back into lifting and running with a couple of active rest days (ie: yoga).  

W. T. F.

While I do not in any way expect to lose 3lbs a week, I do expect to lose something. Hopefully I’m burning fat. Alllll the fat. And just holding water in my muscles making the scale stagnant.

I took measurements on Saturday, and those are mostly the same as they were a couple months ago. Very, very, slight changes. Like a quarter of an inch or less. I’d post them, except I forgot to write them all down. I’m so smart. I do know my natural waist was down to 32”, but my waist-at-navel and hips haven’t changed which is where I had gained some fat over the winter. I’ll retake this weekend and actually record them this time!

So that’s frustrating. Plus I’ve been really hungry over the last week and have no PMS to blame it on, and this plus the above frustration is leading me to want to say “fuck it” to calorie counting. Again. But I know I’m being incredibly impatient and need to get over myself, so I hope this little vent will get it off my mind and allow me to plug along. Maybe I’ll have another random 3lbs week this week and it’ll all just balance out!

I struggled a little bit on Sunday and Monday this week to get the workout in. I stayed out way too late Saturday night and it set me off on a bit of an emotional tailspin and threatened to push me back into bad habits. Live and learn. Unless it’s a truly special occasion, this girl needs to get her butt home and in bed around midnight. No excuses. I’m feeling much more motivated today and am looking forward to getting home and getting a good, tough workout in followed by a long, hot shower, some tv with Mike, some reading before bed, and asleep by 11:30pm. I can’t wait and I love how my priorities are changing to put me in this headspace.

Now to totally up and change subjects: I said in my last update that I would post progress pictures soon. These were taken mid-February a couple weeks into Female Body Breakthrough before I had my breakdown (see what I did there?) and quit exercising for nearly 2 weeks.

Quite a bit of difference from my January 12^th photos I talked about and posted a couple months ago.

I'm still not close to where I had been around Fall of 2013, but making steps. I can’t say enough about how #100DaysOfChange is, well, changing my life and my perspectives and my goals. I know I just said Sunday and Monday were rough, which they were, and that’s to be expected every now and again – but overall I am absolutely loving choosing something to do for myself every day, taking that picture to prove to myself that it got done, and the love and support I’m getting from my family and friends. Probably the most exciting thing about it though, is the fact that I can feel myself slowly pulling through this depression. There are still bad days/weeks, there are still some moments where I wonder if I’m just becoming numb to the things that stress me out or make me unhappy (I’ve felt this way a lot this week which I think may be stemming mostly from my sleep schedule being disrupted) - but when I get home in the evening and choose the workout I’m going to do for the night, I feel great about that decision and I feel great while I’m doing my chosen activity. I’m in my own special place inside my head. It is my time and my comfort space. I don’t worry about my job or my kids or my chores. I just think about me and how I’m improving my life and my health. It’s really great and I just hope that it will continue to be that for me, and right now I’m going to relish in it and try to ignore the scale.