So, my current obsession is trying to lose weight and get in shape. I realize as I type that it sounds like some sort of passing fad for me. That's not the case, really, it's just that I don't have a whole lot going on right now (shockingly), and so it's a larger focus than it would be normally. I started exercising 6 days a week the last week of July, and then started Weight Watchers the following week (beginning of August). I was worried about it initially because I've rarely had any success with diets or changing the kind of food we eat. Part of it is a lack of support from Anthony (which is endlessly annoying and frustrating), and part of it is because I have the tendency to go overboard when I'm trying to make changes. I do this al or nothing bit, and end up burning myself out in the first week. Instead of making small changes, slowly (which, DUH, I know is the smart way to do it), I feel like I need to make everything different all at once. And it's usually too much to handle for me, and I get frustrated and give up on it. But, a month ago, I weighed 293 lbs, at 5'6". I will never, ever, ever reach the weight the stupid, craptastic BMI charts say I should be (118 lbs?!?! Are you kidding me? You're insane! My boobs alone would take up a quarter of that weight!!!)--and someday, I will doubtless rant about how moronic those BMI charts are--but... but, sorry, got waaaay too sidetracked there, I do want to lose a significant chunk of weight for quite a few reasons. Primary reason being: baby. I want a baby, and I want a healthy pregnancy. Right now, because I'm so overweight, it increases the chance of all kinds of ugly things, and since I have PCOS, that can also lead to complications, and my family has a history of miscarriages. So... I want to do what I can to minimize those risks before-hand. Also, I'm tired of being so unhappy with the way I look. When I moved out to California about 9 years ago (really? 9 years already!?!), I put on about 100 pounds in less than 6 months. There were a ton of factors involved: change of lifestyle (working on a farm to working in a cubicle), massive spikes in stress levels (admitting to being abused and subsequent familial world war) which triggered escalated issues with PCOS, earning enough money for the first time in my life to pretty much get whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, after being in a very controlled environment most of my life... but the fact of the matter is that I never really had the motivation to stick with something long enough to take the weight off. I tried to work out periodically. I'd take classes a tthe community college to force me to be active, but I'd do poorly and then drop them from embarassment. Also, public showers = hate. I'd try to modify my eating habits, but boyfriend and then later husband objections made it not worth the effort when I didn't really want to be doing it anyway. It bothers me that I've never been able to summon sufficient motivation for my own health and my own happiness, but if needing to do it for a prospective baby is the only thing that gets me moving, then I'll take it. I know I need to examine some issues about that, though.
Anyway, in a month of exercising near-daily and slowly modifying my food habits, I've lost: 3.2 pounds. which is horrifically depressing in terms of progress. I know that it's likely to take me longer than the average Jane to lose the weight (thank you oh-so-much PCOS), but, I feel like I've been working so hard--making up new recipes, trying new things, modifying what I eat, oh, and did I mention the 6-day-a-week workout schedule? On an elliptical? For 45 minutes to an hour each day?--but there's so little to show for it. The good news is, though, that I've stuck with this longer than anything else I've ever tried. And, truthfully, it feels like something I could keep doing. My goal is to get down to 170, which is how much I weighed at my healthiest as an adult. I feel like I've got a realistic goal--to try to lose 120 lbs in 18 months. And I know I will be in substantially better shape than I've ever been in--regardless of the weight--because of the whole working out thing. Being able to do that at home, taking the embarrassment out of the equation has been a HUGE boon for me. Every other time I try to exercise more to get in shape, I die of embarrassment. Or I think I'm going to and quit before I can. Because, obviously, how horrible would that be? What would they write on a tombstone? :D
Anyway, I tend to think about it a lot. I'm sure it'll get easier (and less obsessive-making?) with time, but for now, it's preoccupying me mightily. Which means there's a decent chance I'll be posting about it more. (Also, I do realize this post is totally rambling, over-populated with parenthetical comments, and really, really, really disorganized. It's almost 3 am, and I should be asleep--I'm soooo tired--but the caffeine, it hates me!)
Friday, August 22, 2008
Can't sleep and Serenity
Bah! I couldn't sleep (too much caffeine, too late in the day), and I had half a dozen things running through my head that seemed like they'd make good topics for posts. The only one I can remember, now that I've dragged myself out of bed and turned on the laptotp is: I watched Serenity today while working out. It's the third (fourth?) time I've seen it. (Um, spoiler, if anyone is actually reading this, and you haven't seen Serenity, don't read the next bit.)
Ok? Ok. So, you would think, knowing that Wash is going to die, I wouldn't cry this time, right? Well, you'd be wrong. In fact, because I knew he was going to die, I started crying before it actually happened! How silly is that? But I hear the line "I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar," and I just lose it.
And that... was really not worth posting about. It always takes me a bit to get back into the swing of things when I start blogging again. It's the awkward phase where I sort of remember how to do this, but not exactly. Like roller-skating. My brain says "We know how to do this, it's just been a while," and my body says, "What the hell, man? Don't know what brain's talking about, but clearly, crazy!" Except, you know, it's a little less painful to fall down here. It'll get better.
Ok? Ok. So, you would think, knowing that Wash is going to die, I wouldn't cry this time, right? Well, you'd be wrong. In fact, because I knew he was going to die, I started crying before it actually happened! How silly is that? But I hear the line "I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar," and I just lose it.
And that... was really not worth posting about. It always takes me a bit to get back into the swing of things when I start blogging again. It's the awkward phase where I sort of remember how to do this, but not exactly. Like roller-skating. My brain says "We know how to do this, it's just been a while," and my body says, "What the hell, man? Don't know what brain's talking about, but clearly, crazy!" Except, you know, it's a little less painful to fall down here. It'll get better.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Still here, still sorting
So, I've been wanting to write here again lately. It just feels weird, picking up again after so long. It seems as if I should somehow start an entirely new space... but I've done that before. Then I spend all my creativity on making/designing a new blog (or imagining what it should be like when my html isn't up to speed). It's silly. I start thinking about it because I need or want to write, and then don't actually do it. So... we'll keep the same old, same old as far as design goes (because I am, obviously, plural) and just launch into writing.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Desperately busy
I have so many things I'd really like to sort out, but I simply don't have the time. I have 2 major exams this week (both tomorrow), and I'm not prepared for either. I have a lab exam the following week, and then finals after that. I have to turn in college applications by Friday, just in case we don't move out of state by this fall, and come up with the money in order to cover the application fees. I have to tutor for far too many hours, go to a birthday party this weekend, visit my step-mother-in-law at the new facility she's recovering in, prepare to teach Sunday school, actually teach Sunday school, get the laundry done, the grocery shopping... ok, I'm just making myself more frantic. Classes will be over in about 2 weeks, and I'll definitely have time to post then. I'll be able to talk some issues through, and that will be good. I'm dreading the upcoming holidays, truthfully. It's just so hard not being able to talk to my parents.
Well, I'm sorry for the nothing post, but I just wanted to let you all know I'm still here and kicking. :)
Well, I'm sorry for the nothing post, but I just wanted to let you all know I'm still here and kicking. :)
Friday, November 16, 2007
She is recovering well!
I've only just realized that I never updated about how the situation with Anthony's step-mom has played out. She has made an astounding recovery, was moved out of intensive care not long after that previous post (about a week or so), and then moved to a rehab facility so she can work on being able to return to normal functionality. She can't (currently) raise her arms above her head, and she still doesn't have much control of her hands, but she is improving steadily, and there is some hope she'll regain full use of everything. Even if she doesn't, she has made such enormous strides from where she was that it's unbelievable. I know a fair number of people will laugh it off, but I honestly believe that God had His hand in this. There are lots of details that I haven't gotten around to posting, but the upshot of it is this: she shouldn't still be alive, and yet she is.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Goodbye, Earl
I'm going to completely change the topic, for right now. This morning, the song Goodbye, Earl came on the radio. If you've never heard it (and don't feel like clicking the link to the lyrics), it's a slightly tongue-in-cheek story about a couple of high school friends, one who ends up with an abusive man. She files for divorce, gets a restraining order, and counts on the police to keep her safe. But the guy (Earl) beats her so badly she ends up in intensive care. The girls decide that "Earl had to die". The rest of the song talks about how they do it, tell the police they haven't heard from Earl, and go on to live normal lives, mostly.
I remember when I first heard this I was simultaneously appalled and envious. The reason for being appalled is obvious. The reason I was envious was because these girls actually did something about their situation. Not that I wanted Larry to die, but the thought of taking charge and changing something rather than just sitting by when the police didn't keep her safe was so very appealing. It seemed an incredible courage to me (you know, aside from the illegality and the immorality of it). I think that's one of the first times it occurred to me that I didn't have to be a victim. Writing that now, I look at it and think, "How absurd! Of course I didn't have to be a victim!", but at the time, it was such a complete revelation to me. Things could happen to me that were beyond my control, but I could actually do something about it! That was mind boggling. I remember giggling with friends every time the song came on, but there was also the secret, heady sensation of realizing I could make a difference in my own life, I could change something. The song came out my senior year of high school, and I think it's part of what helped me to feel that I had some control over the decisions I was making. There was a lot of pressure for me to live at home and go to the local college. Financially, it would have been a very smart move because the local university was cheaper and I wouldn't have had to pay room and board. Emotionally, it would have been a horrible move. I couched my refusal in terms of which was the better school from a Biochem standpoint, and stubbornly insisted on going to CSU. I ended up failing there, but even that was something about which I felt I had made my own choices. I was the one who chose to stop attending class, start drinking, and a half-dozen other dumb decisions. But they were my decisions.
It's been a long, hard road to get to the point where I can (most of the time) actively participate in my life. That sounds strange, doesn't it? But here's the thing: I was a passive bystander in my own life. I didn't stand up and take charge of anything. I just let things happen. I know some of that is a defense mechanism for the abuse. There really wasn't much I could do when I was younger, and the one time the police did get involved, they didn't believe me (well, actually, the problem was they did believe me when I was lying, but that's a different story). I could have run away, but the time I tried that, it didn't work, either. While I didn't have options, going with the flow kept me from worse harm. It was a good survival trick; it's not any more, though, and hasn't been for a long time. It's strange how often I find myself fluctuating between wanting someone else to make all the decisions for me and getting angry about how few decisions I made in the past. I guess, what I'm saying is this: I'm not magically, 100% cured of bizarre or destructive behaviors, but I am doing an awful lot better. I guess it's just funny that it's such a silly song that made me think about all this. Maybe I'll name my passivity Earl, and try to remember that Earl has to die. Goodbye, Earl.
I remember when I first heard this I was simultaneously appalled and envious. The reason for being appalled is obvious. The reason I was envious was because these girls actually did something about their situation. Not that I wanted Larry to die, but the thought of taking charge and changing something rather than just sitting by when the police didn't keep her safe was so very appealing. It seemed an incredible courage to me (you know, aside from the illegality and the immorality of it). I think that's one of the first times it occurred to me that I didn't have to be a victim. Writing that now, I look at it and think, "How absurd! Of course I didn't have to be a victim!", but at the time, it was such a complete revelation to me. Things could happen to me that were beyond my control, but I could actually do something about it! That was mind boggling. I remember giggling with friends every time the song came on, but there was also the secret, heady sensation of realizing I could make a difference in my own life, I could change something. The song came out my senior year of high school, and I think it's part of what helped me to feel that I had some control over the decisions I was making. There was a lot of pressure for me to live at home and go to the local college. Financially, it would have been a very smart move because the local university was cheaper and I wouldn't have had to pay room and board. Emotionally, it would have been a horrible move. I couched my refusal in terms of which was the better school from a Biochem standpoint, and stubbornly insisted on going to CSU. I ended up failing there, but even that was something about which I felt I had made my own choices. I was the one who chose to stop attending class, start drinking, and a half-dozen other dumb decisions. But they were my decisions.
It's been a long, hard road to get to the point where I can (most of the time) actively participate in my life. That sounds strange, doesn't it? But here's the thing: I was a passive bystander in my own life. I didn't stand up and take charge of anything. I just let things happen. I know some of that is a defense mechanism for the abuse. There really wasn't much I could do when I was younger, and the one time the police did get involved, they didn't believe me (well, actually, the problem was they did believe me when I was lying, but that's a different story). I could have run away, but the time I tried that, it didn't work, either. While I didn't have options, going with the flow kept me from worse harm. It was a good survival trick; it's not any more, though, and hasn't been for a long time. It's strange how often I find myself fluctuating between wanting someone else to make all the decisions for me and getting angry about how few decisions I made in the past. I guess, what I'm saying is this: I'm not magically, 100% cured of bizarre or destructive behaviors, but I am doing an awful lot better. I guess it's just funny that it's such a silly song that made me think about all this. Maybe I'll name my passivity Earl, and try to remember that Earl has to die. Goodbye, Earl.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
In Limbo
Well, the good news is that, contrary to my previous post, Anthony's step mom was not taken off life support, they found the source of the infection and removed it. That is the good news. The bad news is that, after 3 days, she still is unable to breathe on her own and is still unable to control her limbs (although she does now have feeling in them and can move them somewhat). That is the bad news. The odds immediately after removing the source of the infection were 30%. I don't know what they are now. I haven't asked because, really, it doesn't help.
It's just hard, really. Because, on the one hand, I'm so excited that there's even a chance of recovery. But on the other, I'm afraid to hope because a 30% chance is not something I'd place money on. And I don't want to seem like I'm not grateful, because I am, and I truly believe this is God working. The roller coaster is just so hard to handle. Wow, something's wrong, this is a little scary turns into, crap, she might die, turns into, oh, she's doing much better now, she should be out of the hospital in no time, which turned into, um, she crashed really badly and we don't think she's going to survive, turns into, oh, wait, we found the source of infection, hooray, she could make a full recovery... see what I mean? It's exhausting just to type! So, I am fluctuating and trying not to drown in school work, trying to find time and energy to take care of us and help out with Anthony's family. I'm just tired right now. Hopeful and scared, but mostly just tired. It's an awful lot to handle.
It's just hard, really. Because, on the one hand, I'm so excited that there's even a chance of recovery. But on the other, I'm afraid to hope because a 30% chance is not something I'd place money on. And I don't want to seem like I'm not grateful, because I am, and I truly believe this is God working. The roller coaster is just so hard to handle. Wow, something's wrong, this is a little scary turns into, crap, she might die, turns into, oh, she's doing much better now, she should be out of the hospital in no time, which turned into, um, she crashed really badly and we don't think she's going to survive, turns into, oh, wait, we found the source of infection, hooray, she could make a full recovery... see what I mean? It's exhausting just to type! So, I am fluctuating and trying not to drown in school work, trying to find time and energy to take care of us and help out with Anthony's family. I'm just tired right now. Hopeful and scared, but mostly just tired. It's an awful lot to handle.
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