Thursday, June 27, 2013
I, like many others, have gotten sucked in. At first I liked finding people I used to know, then I liked sharing funny pictures of cats or whatever, posting funny stories about my Littles, and complaining about the government. Eventually I got sucked into the games (Candy Crush is the place all creativity and productivity go to die, and several good ideas are laid waste amid the removed jelly of my past), but lately I have noticed something, a shift of not only consciousness, but overall disposition in Zuckerland. I am noticing more and more the sad sob stories about the end of relationships that aren't meant to be in the first place, followed by the immediate rekindling of said relationships and confusion as to why one's friends find the re-animation of the relationship an exercise in futility. I am noticing the use of FB as a platform to further one's agenda, whatever it is at the moment. I am noticing the use of FB to avoid one's own problems by borrowing the problems of others in the form of unsolicited advice and gossip.
Yesterday I threw a pre-menstrual hissy fit and deactivated my account, which in turn caused the formation of a search party only for my dear concerned friends to discover I was fine and just needed a break. I re-activated around 1 AM this morning for the reason I initially started - to keep in touch with people I have no other way of keeping in touch with, because heaven forbid I actually pick up a phone.
I am a poor manager of time and resources. That is a huge reason for my being so, well, HUGE. Facebook is the last thing a girl like me needs. I have an attention deficit disorder that only applies to things I feel I have to do. I rebel against responsibility, because who is Adult Me to tell My Inner Child she should have to do anything? But Adult Me knows My Inner Child better than anyone, and she knows Inner child Jessica needs to get her crap together.
Yesterday's events led me to wake up this morning and do a fitness evaluation - the first ever since The Hub and I started living together 6 years ago and wasted loads of money on our first gym membership that went nowhere. It was not wonderful. Just as I suspected I was 'Below Average.' That's fine, I was expecting it. The problem I had with it was more about my frustration with not being able to do more than 7 burpees in 60 seconds (BTW, Sparkpeople, putting 'Burpees' in the workout database would be nice). Anyway, I am down 12 lbs according to my tracker, and about 3 inches, so I can't complain too much.
I think it is best that I spend my computer time in a more positive place, so my goal for July is to spend only about an hour a day messaging and playing games on FB and whatever other time doing worthwhile stuff.
Thursday, April 04, 2013
I bet that seems like a yucky blog title, right?
At first I thought it was going to be a cruddy day, what with the rain, and my crappy attempt at overnight crock pot oatmeal. I was was wrong. No fitness so far today. I did eat breakfast, even if it wasn't the planned oatmeal. I had a couple of eggs and a piece of whole wheat toast. But this is what really made the day great from the beginning:
I got up before the kids ~ This never happens.
My ol' man is off today.
Instead of my usual reaction to something not going as planned, which is to have a meltdown, I chuckled and moved on with a new plan.
I finally got to watch the season finale of Justified.
I know. It all seems small. But these things are huge for me. Ever since I came off of my anti-depressants I have had a hard time finding the silver linings in things. Any anxiety or depression I thought I had before I started taking it, was amplified after I got through the withdrawals and started trying to navigate without them again. It's been nearly a year, and I think I'm finally starting to feel stable again.
Now I'm going to take my stable self a nice, relaxing bath with a candle and some quiet. I may even sing a little.
Wednesday, April 03, 2013
I need to blog. Blogging is so cathartic in so many ways, but I always stop doing it. Life gets in the way, and I start to come to realizations and it comes to my attention that I am not at all who I pretend to be.
I make lame excuses about my weight, like:
"Yeah, I'm fat, but I like food so whatevs."
"Meh. I'm not hurting anyone with my weight and [terrible] eating habits."
I get sick... a lot, and I use having a school age child as an excuse for that.
But what happens when it's Spring Break, and my school age child is not sick, and I am light-headed, and nauseous, and just overall miserable? Then it stops being excusable. It stops being something I can avoid and pretend isn't an issue. Then I need to push the reset button on my life and my digestive system. It stops being manageable and becomes a life altering sickness that only I can fix.
I know it's up to me.
I know I am the only one who can do this.
I know I come to this conclusion literally ALL the time.
And yet, nothing.
I am still this sickly thing that is aware of herself and the hell I am putting my body through.
The other day a friend of mine popped in who I haven't seen in years. The last time I saw her, she weighed in around 260 pounds - only about 10 less than the point I am currently at. 2 days ago I saw her and she weighed a measly 115 pounds. This was not from working out, or eating healthily. It was from being sick and totally unable to consume more than roughly 200 calories at a time, followed by an embarrassing rush to the bathroom to vomit. Her face showed the signs of this sickness. She was sunken in. Probably the roundest face I had ever seen had become skeletal. She has been sick for about 4 years and still has no idea what the cause of this sickness is, and every doctor says a different thing.
I know my thinking is disordered and out of sorts because I actually thought, "Why can't I get sick like that?" The truth is, I am hovering dangerously close to that sort of sickness, and at any time the scales could be tipped to my detriment, and once that happens, it will be nearly impossible to stop, provided I am not already there. My body is telling me something is wrong, or coming very close to being wrong.
Time to restart the journey. Time to fix myself, truth be damned. I can't keep living life with a sour stomach and a pile of anger and nowhere to put it.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
If you have read any of my earlier blog posts you know that pancakes and I have a... Thing. When we lived in my parents' home, pancakes were a Sunday morning thing that my dad wanted to do for us.
Now, pancakes have become a 'morning after' ritual with my husband and I. See, I am terrible at making pancakes. I can cook all sorts of things. Pancakes, however, are off the table (pardon the pun) unless I can get John to make them for me or we go to a pancake house. It just so happens that after we have a night of romance, he is happy enough in the morning to get right up and make pancakes.
I guess I can live with the extra pancake calories if I earn them by burning calories in a fun way. Who says losing weight can't be fun?!
Monday, June 11, 2012
I usually have something witty and cute to say about all of the things I'm going to do and all of the progress I will be making soon. Right now, I am over it. I am so over looking at myself in the mirror and seeing way more of myself than I need to. I am so over trying to motivate myself and looking for cute ways to do what I need to do. I am so over having a different excuse all of the time.
My husband is completely supportive and I am lucky enough that he will stay with the kids without being bothered by me doing something for myself for as long as I need. I am not taking advantage of the opportunity in front of me and I am sick of it. Usually I come on here, bang my frustrations out on the keyboard, close the window and then get on with my life like the blog never happened until I gain a few more pounds and get frustrated again. That ish is getting old, and I am over it, too.
Because of my weight, no matter what size I buy, my clothes are ill-fitting. A XXL doesn't look like it fits anyone correctly. Bra underwires pinch my arms. I am down to ONE pair of jeans I can wear without cutting into my ample flesh. This is beyond ridiculous. But it's my fault. No one did this to me but me. I could blame it on lots of things, but it all comes down to my lack of ability to see anything through. I always give up after a few days or weeks. Anything that takes diligence and willpower usually gets neglected after several days.
I want to be able to lift my arms and grab something off of a top shelf without my belly spilling out all over the place. I want to go to a waterpark with my girls and feel like I can get on a waterslide without getting stuck inside or got to an amusement park and not have to worry whether or not I will fit in the restraints that keep you from flying out into space. I am uncomfortable and unhappy. I have what I need to fix it, I just don't use it, and I blame it on other things.
Now, all of that being said, I do have everything I need, including support. There is no reason I can't do something about it.
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