Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Well, I spent the time between my last blog and this one pulling myself back together. I passed all my glasses, with a semester GPA of 3.995. Not bad, considering how broken I was half-way through. I continued seeing my councilor, and I have been started on Abilify. There was mild weight gain, less than 10 pounds and it's coming off. My last therapy session the councilor was concerned I may have body-image issues. I believe I have reality-based body-image issues. I'm seeing room for improvement, not issues with my basic shape. I can be stronger. I can be less plump. Less defined like a marshmallow. She wants me to go ahead and follow my doctor's weight-loss (God, I hate that word, I hate weight) plan for the summer, and then we'll discuss my body attitudes in the fall.
I fell off the blog map because if it wasn't homework, I didn't have time for it. I fell off the exercise map, I'm not sure why. And diet and I still aren't friends.
I want to elaborate why I hate weight. I keep going to my doctors, I'm being carefully examined now that we're actually dealing with my sleep apnea, my PCOS, my Bi-Polar disorder, and my A-Fib (Geeze, does *anything* work in my body?!) Well, the point is, I'm not losing weight, even when I was exercising over 8 hours a week. But I WAS losing inches. My thighs are now the size I want my waist to be---35 inches. I walked into my doctors, I had gained a few pounds, which I could see the nurse making *tch tch* noises about, but I had lost over 16 inches. I'm sorry, but this is part of how my body is built---I don't lose weight. For weeks and weeks, I live on a plateau at first, and that is what makes me so vulnerable and likely to quit. This time, I marched myself down to the curves and offered to pay the visitor's fee, just to have them measure me. And measure me they did. Now we're measuring me every month, and I'm losing inches, even though my weight stays stubbornly stuck. I guess it's one of my health issues. I'm also losing fat pounds, as judged by a little hand-held machine that tests my electricity. I lost a whole 3 pounds of fat last time I went in! That's almost a pack of butter!
That being what it is, now that my sleep apnea has me ready to go forward with the machine, the sleep clinic doctor set up an actual weight loss plan with me. A plan of 2 pounds a week for the next 12 weeks, with a goal of about 15 pounds in the end. Wiggle room. It feels over whelming. What's stranger, is it feels logical. This isn't like the last time a doctor told me to lose weight. I don't feel alone. I don't feel like she's kicking me out of the harbor. I feel like I have partners. I feel like I have a team. I have 6 doctors: a family physician, an ob-gyn, a cardiologist, a sleep specialist, a therapist, a psychiatrist. And I am truly not alone.
My first "long term goal" is to get out of the "morbidly" obese range. BMI is not the best solution for the end result, but for now, it's a starting point.
It's summer break, and I don't go back to work or school until June. I'm going to spend the next few weeks getting healthy (I caught a cold) and getting my house back into the order I want it to be. I have a small garden going, and I'm going to try to keep it alive. I'll try not to over eat and hit the gym, too. Small steps. Small steps.