Time to Kick Some Butt

My own, that is. It's been a while since I've written...for many, many reasons. The holiday season was very busy with family, friends, and travel. Now that things are a bit more settled, it's probably good for me to write about some of it...been thinking about writing for a while but well, some of what's been going on is really a struggle for me and "talking" about it publicly, well, even more difficult.

Along with the holidays came extra food, not great food choices all the time, and plenty of alcohol...along with lack of regular exercise. There have been so many stresses lately as well. Continued layoffs and restructuring/reorganization at work, uncertainty of my future here, issues with parenting and co-parenting, loneliness...and how to cope with all of it.

I'm handling things but admittedly, at the end of the day, when the child is in bed, it's a bit overwhelming if I think about it all...and so, I've needed some distance from the emotions. It's impossible to shut them off, but I've definitely found that a drink (or two, or three, or four) can definitely blunt their impact on me and make them more tolerable. Not a good habit to get into, for so many reasons. And I'm up about 15 lbs. from where I'd like to be.

I've discussed the alcohol and food consumption in counseling, with my PCP and with Pat...and I see Melinda this week. Do I need substance abuse counseling? No, I don't think so...but I do think I need to get a grip and regain the consistency of good habits I've had before now. So, I've been honest with all of my medical professionals, friends, supports...and I'm trying to regain some balance...with food, with alcohol, with exercise. I have a triathlon to train for. I cannot return to where I was...it's simply not an option.

My clothes aren't fitting as they should. I do not feel good about my body. I am not taking care of my body the way I should be. So I'm reminding myself why it is I had this surgery...so I would live to see my son grow up...raise him. I need to hold onto that...remember it...and tackle the tasks that lead to that goal one by one. And tomorrow night, Martha and I will attend the celebration for being 2009 Road Race Series Finishers...maybe that will help my motivation...remembering the goal we accomplished together.

The reason I do this...all of it...is this beautiful little boy. This picture was taken on Christmas Eve Day, in North Carolina while we were visiting with friends for the holidays. He's the best.

North Shore YMCA 2009 Road Race Series Finishers!!!

Today, Martha and I ran the last of our planned 5Ks for 2009. We had to complete five of the twelve scheduled races in order to become series finishers...and we did just that. Who would have thought, three years ago, weighing in at over 250 lbs., either of us could do this? Not us...I know that. Way to go Martha! Thank you for being my friend and running partner for this series. We can do it all again next year. ;-)

Pre-race Picture:


Post-race Picture (I lost my antlers right at the start):

The Daily Struggles

It's been quite a while since I've written. I'm struggling. There is no doubt about it.

But today, I'm taking a new approach to dealing with difficult feelings. I still have issues with wanting to eat when I'm lonely, sad, bored. Work has been pretty sucky. Interpersonal relationships (friendships and romantic relationships alike) feel very, very precarious or non-existent. The holidays this year actually have me thinking about and missing my mom. She passed away 3.5 years ago. She loved the holidays. Pie baking, cooking and holiday shopping brought her a great deal of joy. Most of the time, I do NOT have warm and fuzzy feelings about her...so I'm actually relishing that I am having positive memories and thoughts, though it's sort of bittersweet.

Anyway, I've not been eating as well as I should, nor exercising as much as I should. I can recognize that this is counterproductive to helping me stay physically and mentally at the top of my game.

So this morning on my drive into work, I found myself thinking. Then I decided that it would have more value if I actually said the things I was thinking out loud to myself. I told myself that this is going to be a good week with food and exercise...that I am going to meet my goals and be on track...that my body does not need the abuse or neglect of me misfeeding it and not exercising it...and my mind doesn't need the crap thoughts that come with making those bad choices. I want to be happy. I want to be healthy. I want to feel good physically and emotionally. I'm in control of many of the things that help me to be happy and healthy. So, that's my affirmation for this minute, this morning, this day, this week.

Weight loss surgery is definitely a tool for our arsenal against obesity, but it is no cure. I need to maintain focus on how much better I FEEL when I make those good choices. When I eat like crap and don't exercise I beat myself up...because I'm taking away from myself huge positive reinforcements of the good choices. Focusing on the positive is always a much, much better coping skill than dwelling on the negative of how I've failed or will fail. I have to always remember that my body and mind count on me to take care of them and make the best choices for them.

My attitude this year is holidays be damned! I am up 9 lbs. from where I want to be. And it terrifies me. What if 9 becomes 15? Does 15 beg to become 20? I can't go there. I simply can't.

Setting goals (daily, weekly, monthly, yearly) is a huge part of staying forward focused and not dwelling on my past mistakes. The date for my first sprint triathlon was posted today. July 25, 2010. I'm doing this with three other ladies, two of whom actually live in other states, and one of whom is also an RNYer. My Philly friend told me about the date today...and I needed that. It's concrete, it's real, and staying in shape physically and mentally is the ONLY way I'm going to be able to complete that goal. This year's goal was to be a 2009 Road Race Series finisher...I will complete that goal with my last 5K of the year on December 5th. Martha and I will complete it together. YAY US!

This is it. This is the battle. Daily. Weekly. Monthly. Yearly. One life...it's up to me to make the best of it with my choices.

The "Easy" Way Out?

My weight loss surgery was was almost 27 months ago. Most days, I feel absolutely great. I don't really have many food intolerances as long as I stick to moderation as my guide. Every once in a great while, for some reason unknown to me, food gets "stuck" in my stoma (the opening between my pouch and my small intestine). The result is that I have a great deal of pain just beneath my breast bone...it feels like something is cutting me from the inside out. And then the foaming starts...and eventually, if I'm lucky, the puking will start to get rid of whatever is stuck. On rare occasion, taking papaya enzyme will help it pass through without vomiting. But, as was the case yesterday, no dice. The episode lasted a full hour yesterday. I have only had one that was worse, about a year ago...and that resulted in having an endoscopy to make sure everything was ok with my pouch (which it was).

For me, this kind of vomiting is really forceful and violent...it feels like I will actually purge my pouch itself. And it leaves my eyes with broken capillaries all around. So, for anyone who thinks that weight loss surgery is the "easy" way out, think again. I have it pretty good...this happens very rarely for me these days. For some, it's more often. Even with this as occasional disturbance, my gastric bypass surgery was still the right choice for me. This is what my eyes look like the day after. Blech.

Third 5K Done

Yesterday was the worst race I've ever run...for so many reasons. When I woke up yesterday morning, I felt really shaky...like blood sugar issues shaky. I hadn't ever felt like that pre-race. Having consumed more than normal amounts of carbs the night before, I suspect I was having aftereffects of late dumping. I strayed from my normal routine pre-race as well. I had my coffee like I always do, but I had a high protein breakfast of some turkey jerky and then, for carbs, a banana. I had two FRS chews just before the race as well as a 20 oz. bottle of water because the jerky was so salty. I felt parched. My optimism had been high...I had great hopes for completing the race in my best time ever...under 30 minutes. I even aspired to make 28:30. I had a goal. I've never set one that was quite that specific for myself in a race...just wanted to finish and be faster than the time before.

It was a beautiful fall morning...very cool and crisp and brilliant blue sky. I was mentally optimistic, but physically feeling really off. At the start, I took off in a sprint. And within the first mile I had to start walking. I felt blood in my throat from coughing/wheezing. With the the colder weather, it probably would have been wise to use my inhaler that morning, but I didn't think of it. And so, my airways did not respond well at all. Next, the abdominal cramping started. I kept trying to run, and did complete the first mile in under 10 minutes. But by mile 2, that abdominal cramping turned into something I knew would be really bad. I needed to find a rock or tree to escape behind, or a bathroom desperately or there was going to be a really horrifying incident for me. I scoped out all of the houses as I ran, looking for someone outside (it was after all, only after 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning). Finally, there was a woman who had been out in her yard headed back inside. I ran over to her (after Martha passed me on the route, asking if I was okay and I said no, but I didn't need help but I did need a bathroom, to keep on going). In the most pleading voice and face I had, I asked if I might use her restroom as my stomach was not cooperating with me during this race. She skeptically looked me over, apparently decided I was harmless and indeed in trouble, and said "let me get my husband out of there." And so, I polluted some poor strangers' bathroom in the lovely town of Rowley. Thank heavens for Febreze. I thanked them profusely and they graciously said not to worry, they had a daughter who was a runner and so they understood. And then, I was on my way.

Within 1 minute of being back on the race route though, I was uncertain I would complete the entire race without yet another stop (or accident in lieu of a stop). But yes, I did indeed finish the race. I had my worst time ever: 38 minutes 10 seconds. But, I did indeed finish. Yesterday I felt so physically awful (I wheezed for the rest of the day even with inhaler use, and my stomach is still not quite right today), that I told myself I was never going to run another race. I was done.

Today, I feel a little better...and I decided to write a little about it. And after talking to Martha this morning, who by the way completed the race in her best time yet--woo hoo Martha!!!--well, we have two more this year to complete to be 2009 Road Race Series Finishers. That was our goal, and we will make it. I'm not sure it could get worse for me than it was yesterday anyway...well it probably could, but I'm not going there.

As for yesterday, I can literally say "shit happens." It does...and then you move on.

Monday, Monday

*sigh* So where do I even begin? It's been almost a month since the last time I wrote. I think there's been so much swirling about in my head and in my life that I've just been unable to put it all into words.

My third 5K is coming up this Saturday. Martha and I will run it together and then, in October, we'll run the Witch City 5K. My dear friend Melissa will be visiting from Iowa at that time, and she will be running it with us as well. One thing that I would have never anticipated being a benefit of having WLS is meeting so many other truly awesome people who understand the kinds of struggles I've had with food, weight, body and self-esteem issues. I met Melissa through the RNY board on OH. Melissa has inspired me since I was a pre-op and it was from her that I got the idea to take monthly pictures of my weight loss progress. Over the past few years, we've gotten to be very close, and we struggle in some very similar ways with eating properly, exercise, how much we eat, being people pleasers, etc. I have the distinct advantage of being older though and so, I have more wherewithall to let go of the people-pleasing stuff. But hey, with me coaching her she'll learn. ;-)

Zachary and I took a vacation out to Iowa to visit with Melissa and her husband. We spent several wonderful days relaxing, talking, laughing and just generally enjoying our time together. We have similar issues with reactive hypoglycemia post-op and though she says she has bad gas issues, I far surpass her in this area...I know, something you all wanted to know. For the record? I was just as bad pre-op...surgery did nothing to make me worse.

I've been dating here and there, but I think I'm going to take a good break from it for a while. I don't really care for setting myself up to be hurt, and I don't really like feeling like I'm hurting others when I'm not interested...and so, a break it is. Besides, my mind has really been rather preoccupied with thoughts and feelings for someone. Until I can really get my head and heart around that, I'll just continue to compare everyone else to him and they'll fall short. I've thought about both how lonely it is to be alone/without a partner, and also how glad I am at times that I have no one else I'm responsible/accountable to. What a double-edged sword.

It's a Monday, and there's been a lot of sadness/heavy heartedness/worry at work. A coworker lost his mom over the weekend...he'd already lost his dad. So at a pretty tender age (he's still under 30) he's been orphaned. It makes me sad...I was young, but he is even younger. Add to that a very close coworker (and friend) of mine has a aneurysm. Hopefully he'll be fine but I'm definitely thinking about him and worrying.

Add to that family stuff that just makes me nutty, school starting (and I can't believe I have a child in third grade already...where did the time go???) and well, I just really feel like the Earth is spinning way too fast and my life with it.

I'm struggling with about 7 lbs. that I'd really like to get off to be back where I'd like between 118 and 120. My clothes all still fit, but it's irritating to me. Staying on track is hard...exercising the majority of the week is hard. I still log my food every day...even when I haven't eaten as I should. In an ideal day, I consume about 1600 calories, 45 to 60 g of fat, between 180 and 220 g of carbs, 40 to 50 g of fiber and between 110 and 120 g of protein. Additionally, I drink between 100 and 120 oz. water daily (typically...sometimes it's more). I seem able to stick to this for 2 or 3 days at a time...and then I have some kind of transgression. I'm trying to do better in terms of the things I eat during the transgressions and at least keeping them protein focused. The resulting blood sugar drops from less protein-dense choices aren't worth it. I think that part is finally getting through to me.

I watch diet ads and fads and was thinking this morning that it's really kind of weird to not be looking for a "diet" to lose weight with. That I know all I really need to do is stay focused on eating properly. There will never be another "diet" (I thought this as I was watching some infomercial for something called Slim 6 I think). It was the first time I really had that realization. Diets are done for me. This is just how I live...eating the RIGHT way. But that is hard. It sounds so simple, and it is...but it isn't easy. And I wonder if worrying about these 7 lbs. is really worth the agonizing I'm doing...but I'm afraid that if I say "eh, it's just 7 lbs." that it will become 10, then 15, and then 20...and I simply cannot go there.

I think I need to resume setting goals for myself weekly, monthly, or whatever...and one of them needs to be to have a daily meditation practice. I bet it would help "slow down" the spinning that feels so out of control sometimes.

The Wearying Journey…Some Days

I’ve been plagued with nightmares for as long as I can remember (way, way back to early childhood). They seem to be somewhat cyclical in terms of when they come. I’ll go for several weeks without any and then, I’ll hit a patch of a few weeks where they are every night, sometimes several in a night. Last night’s dream was a doozy. I’ve shared it with my brother and with three very close friends who were happy to offer their ears and support (thank you Andy, Laura, Dave and Martha). The details are not as complete here as I remember the dream…it would simply be too much to write it all out. Consider my memory of it to be about as complete as a written screen play, complete with costume direction, movement direction, etc. I can remember just about all of it in great detail. I’m a little nervous, I admit, about letting people who don’t know me in person into the psyche of my dreams, but well, the writing that will follow the dream may make more sense if you read all the meat of the dream first. I dream frequently about my mom…and they are sadly never pleasant dreams.

The Dream:
I dreamed that my mom told me to get out (of the house) the day before Thanksgiving. Family friends from NYC picked me up, we drove down to NYC and so I spent a couple of hours with them. Then they dropped me off at the bus terminal. I was there at the terminal trying to figure out how to get back to Boston. I had my cell phone and a credit card on me and nothing else. There was a bullet train that would get me to Boston fastest. In the line in which I was standing to purchase my ticket was this wretched adult daughter talking horribly to her father. She was really being a horribly selfish and hateful person to him, and he was being nothing but kind. I finally decked her because I couldn’t stand it anymore. That of course landed her on her ass, all the while people agreeing (including her father) that she had it coming to her. She got up, I apologized to her for my actions and she said she was fine, but wanted me fined. So the train place was going to fine me $250. I was trying desperately to find someone in authority to speak to about this fine and how it could be argued/fought. Somehow, I managed to get some street heroin and I was all prepared to actually shoot it up. Don't ask, I have NO friggin' clue how this got in my dream...I have never purchase or done or even seen heroin. I get on the train, worried I'll get caught with the drugs. There are two trains. I almost miss the first one I'm supposed to take which takes me to the second bullet fast one. But I do somehow make it to the second train. On the second train is an old friend (but someone I am no longer friends with) with whom I chat, as well as (of all people) Steve Martin. Yes, Steve Martin. And he’s not being goofy but rather being a very serious and upstanding person. I explain to them both all that has transpired with being thrown out of the house, the woman I hit, the fines, etc. I also explain that I have this heroin on me. Steve was actually admonishing me from using the heroin, telling me that if I bought it off the street from someone I didn't know, well, I was basically looking at junk and I'd probably end up dead. With all certainty now I know I must get rid of this stuff without letting any of it get into my (or anyone else's) body. So we're trying to find an open window to chuck it out of on this bullet fast train concerned that some kid in the general population will get their hands on it. I end up getting to Boston and I miss my commuter train to Salem by 10 seconds (I can see it pulling away). It is the night before Thanksgiving and the next train isn't for 3 hours. It was the 8 p.m. train I missed. Next one isn’t until 11 p.m. Trying to figure out the train schedule is impossible, they have all these kiosks that have touch screens to walk you through where you’re going, time of day, etc. At one point, all of them are broken or useless or in some language I can’t switch to English from despite pressing the language touch part of the screen many times. I get French, Spanish, Portuguese. No English. There's a train leaving sooner (a special) but the doors are closed. It's packed. A man tries to jump into this (moving) train through an open window and launches himself so hard we're all convinced that he has shot himself out the OTHER window on the other side of the train. And we’re quite certain he’s probably dead from being hit by another train on the track on the other side of the train he tried to get on. The father of the woman I hit shows up. He’s with his wife and other two daughters…the snotty daughter is nowhere to be found. He now looks like Al Roker when he was obese (he was a slim, white, older businessman earlier in the dream). He hands me his dry cleaning ticket asking me to pick up his stuff tomorrow (makes no sense, I know), says he has no money to pay for it and no account, so I should ask them to send him a bill. I'm wondering where I'm going to go when I get back to Salem. I can’t go to mom's obviously, which is where Andy (my brother) and Elizabeth (my sister-in-law) will be. But I call my brother and ask if he’ll pick me up in Salem. He says of course he will, he’d be happy to and it doesn't matter what time it is that I get in. I'm hoping I will figure out where to go from there, but I'm adamant about not seeing mom on Thanksgiving after this crap she pulled, and my brother understands completely.

That is the story of the dream. I’ve been in a therapy a really, really long time...the past 29+ years. I spent two of those years inpatient. I work very hard to accept and move on. And then I have dreams like this that make me wonder what I have worked so hard for. It was 6:15 this morning when I got up and thought “I am emotionally exhausted already.” These dreams leave me in quite a funk. Thankfully, talking about them/writing about them has actually helped distance myself a bit from that funk of feelings and see them a little more clearly.

But honestly, there are days when I wonder if this journey is worth it. No, I’d never give up my life…I’m way, way beyond that. But when I work this hard in therapy, on myself, to process things, do the right thing, accept, forgive, grow stronger, and then the events in my life cause an overwhelming sense of rejection, abandonment, unworthiness, lostness, anger, well, it makes me wonder if I’ve really made the progress I think I have. My brother, trying so hard to assure me he’s not meaning to sound cliché but wants me to know that in comparison to 20 years ago, I’ve come a long way baby. And you know what the bright spot of this dream was (yup, there really was one)? That in this dream, my brother was there for me. He understood. He would pick me up, regardless of the time. He was there for me. I don’t know…maybe I’m not so alone after all…