Just a tidbit to remember

I want to document this here, I posted it on several sites, but what I need the most is for me to remember this ....

Just want to share my own progression on the new Beyond the Scale plan.

I am an emotional/binge/whatever reason eater. Doritos, sweets, you name it, it's my enemy. The first week on the program was a STRUGGLE but by the end of the week I was getting the hang of it.
I'm 3 days in to my second week and I have to share what is happening to me. Doritos = crack for me. Got home last night after a busy, hectic and somewhat stressful day to find a bag of doritos as a gift from my boyfriend. I opened them, absentmindedly ate 3 of them, then realized I didn't want them. I ate a point of Doritos. I have been known to polish off half a bag or more in a sitting.

Today is my department's treat day. Table full of goodies, cookies, sweets, donuts, muffins, chocolates, and more. I didn't feel tempted until lunch so I went and picked veggies out of a noodle dish and took just a few noodles, took a buckeye ball and a cookie.

Nibbled the buckeye ... too sweet ... not right ... not worth it.

Broke a tiny piece of the cookie off ... flavor not magical ... greasy film in my mouth .... not worth it ...
Ate the veggies ... started on the noodles .... realized nah, it was not what I wanted or worth the points and I snuck in the bathroom and flushed it all.

Came back to my office, had a pack of tuna and an apple.

Let me put it in perspective how HUGE this is for me. In the past I would have had one of everything. I love peanut butter and could easily pop 5 or more of them in my mouth without thinking. I would have rifled through the chocolates to find my favorites and probably taken more than my fair share. If no one was looking I probably would have taken a few cookie, maybe even hid one in my pocket, and I would have finished it off with a giant plate of noodles. I would have made every excuse (it's a special day! I don't get these foods all the time! It's CHRISTMAS!!)

As shocked as I feel right now, I'm hoping that this is part of what the new program brings me, a NORMAL relationship with food. I don't know what it's like to have one, but for me passing up literal mounds of free food is something I struggle with every time it's an opportunity. I even had them move the treat table as it was just too close to me before and it was so much easier to sneak food.

I'm baking cookies and getting food ready all weekend and next week and right now I feel like I can handle that. This time last week I was dreading it.

I can't say this will happen for everyone, but it happened to me and I always think I'm the special one who WW won't work for smile emoticon Hang in there and say a prayer for me that this isn't just some fluke or that I'm temporarily possessed! We can make this a happy holiday!

Some things to remember when I'm feeling blue

Sometimes I get really down and question if I am a good person or not. 

Then I have 24 hour spans like this I realize I must be loved because I have the BEST friends and coworkers in the world.  

I have people I supervise who do the most awesome things for each other and for the department. They show they care about me and each other in their work and non-work actions. 

I have close girlfriends who help me, come to me for help, and aren't afraid to share themselves with me.   Last night I had a great conversation with my workout buddy that helped us both with emotions that were bubbling under the surface and helped us focus on the good. 

I have someone who is taking a little road trip to have lunch with me.   She's someone who came into my life unexpectedly and has helped me grow so much as a person. 

Then there is the friend who brought special little treats yesterday to work bu casually mentioned how much I liked them and I'd have to see if I could get them locally.  I got a message from her last night "I'm at Costco ha ha ha!"  She made a 40 minute drive to get more of the treats. For me. Just because she knew how much I'd appreciate it. She also wrestled me away when I tried to pay her. 

I could just say I'm lucky to have such great people in my life, but I know it's more than that. The saying is you reap what you sow. These people all give me such love and positive energy. I alway hope I give them the same back, but I'm learning that what I see in them, they see in me.

That reflection is what matters. 

I'm worth it

Every year I want the same thing for the holidays - just to be happy and enjoy them.  Every year there is something that happens that I can say I don't like, but I compromise because it makes someone else happy.

Every.

Single.

Year.

I always wonder what makes me different from the ones who get exactly what they want.  Not that I want to be them, because honestly I hate people who demand the world revolve around them.  I don't want that part of their personality, I just want that complete and unquestionable understanding that I am number one and that's it.

Faced with the cold, hard truth I can see that I do tend to put other people's feelings first.  Heck, even my plans for a day for me last Friday were unaccomplished because others came first.  Straddling that line between taking care of myself and doing for others is something that I have never been able to do.  I am one who will give up my plans, alter my whatever, all for the sake of making someone else happy.  To say "when do I get a turn" makes me feel selfish, rude, and quite frankly a bitch.

The problem is that I keep putting everyone and everything  before my own needs and that has altered my happiness to a huge degree.  The saddest part of Friday was that it seemed ok for my plans to be changed because making myself happy was just something I was lost on.

I need to find the voice to say "it's ok to put yourself in the front of the line."  Even writing all this my thought is that if someone reads this they'll just think I'm horrible.

Once again I am at a place where I feel like the little girl begging someone to watch her and being told to go play [with the implied message of leave me alone.]

LIving my life as a fake

Many years ago I was told it was a wonder I had any friends and that if anyone ever knew the real me they wouldn't like me.

Oh how those words have stuck with me and shaped who I am, or who I am not.

I've lived the last 30 years waiting for everyone to find out my secret, that I am not the person they think I am, unless of course they think I'm a stupid, self-centered bitch.

I wait for people at work to find out I've been fooling them all and really have no clue what I'm doing and I'd be better off being put in the corner to sort good rubber bands from the dried out ones.

I wait for my friends to realize they can't be friends with someone like me.  Even though right now I have the best group of friends a person could ask for, including ones that know I think like this and take the time to point out I'm the only one who doesn't get who I am.

I get squirrely in the brain when someone sees my wreck pictures and is amazed I'm here.  I hadn't looked at them in years and took them to Michael's therapy last week for a few people to see.  Bugged out eyes and words like "you're a miracle" should be embraced, but more often than not I think they are a wee bit on the crazy side and wonder why they don't few me as being overly dramatic about a fender bender.

Then there is my weight loss.  Oh the pages I could write on that.  Oh you're doing so good!  No I'm not, I downed a ton of cookies last night when someone (anyone) wasn't looking.  See, I am a fake Weight Watcher member.

Until just a day or so ago I had no clue that this has a name.  It's called Impostor Complex or sometimes Impostor Phenomenon.  Google it, you'll see my picture come up.  Ok, it doesn't, but it sure could.  Nothing like reading pages and pages of stories and documents that make you feel like you just found your owner's manual!

A great deal of the reading I have found already gives you steps to take to work through this kind of thinking.  I'm still working through the "holy crap, I'm not alone?!?!?" stage, but I do want to work past that.

This is one of the best articles I've read so far -

http://www.fastcompany.com/3036006/hit-the-ground-running/8-practical-steps-to-getting-over-your-impostor-syndrome

8 steps to overcoming impostor syndrome

1. Recognize that it exists.
2. When you receive positive feedback, embrace it with objectivity and internalize it. By denying it, you are hurting that person’s judgement.
3. Don’t attribute your successes to luck.
4. Don’t talk about your abilities or successes with words like "merely," "only," "simply," etc.
5. Keep a journal. Writing your successes and failures down gives you a retrospective insight about them, and re-reading them makes you remember equally both of them.
6. Recognize that the perfect performer doesn’t exist, and that problems will pop up eventually. Take them as little fires under you that make you move forward.
7. Be proud of being humble.
8. Remember that it’s okay to seek help from others, and that even the best do it.

#2 really hit home with me.  I negate what people say about me all the time!  I never thought about it as hurting that person's judgement.  If you told me you liked a certain color my response wouldn't be "well what the hell is wrong with you?  That's the most disgusting color I've ever seen and can't believe anyone likes that let alone you!"  I may not like the color, but I'd accept that you do.

So why is it if you say "your commitment to losing weight inspires me" my reaction is "if you knew what I really did you'd never say such a stupid thing again"?  Yes, I make some really bone headed choices, but I keep going.  Also sometimes I make those bone headed choices just to support my impostor habit.  Why do I not embrace that and celebrate that I can help someone in their own journey?  Why do I decide that people I respect and learn from are brilliant with all they have to offer except for their opinions and views about me?  How did I get to be so freaking special that I am an exception to everything else that comes out of their mouths?

I can say that my core group of trusted friends are people of integrity.  The don't get off on blowing smoke up people's rear ends.  All their opinions should carry equal weight.  I shouldn't cherry pick the value based on my own self serving needs.  I also need to apologize to them because in my mind they may say good job to me, but they also say it to the bananas at the supermarket for growing and their stapler for once again attaching multiple pieces of paper together.  Go Stapler!!!!

#3 is what I lump my whole wreck and recovery in.  Luck.  I was lucky to live, I'm lucky to have made it as far as I have.  Really, I was lucky it didn't kill me.  For whatever reasons, I survived long enough to get help and had the strength to hang on.   There are many "ifs" that play into my survival.  If I hadn't been found right away.  If I hadn't been flown to the trauma center.  If I hadn't had the surgeon I had.  If, if if if if if if.

Some of it can be called luck, good or bad.  I consider myself blessed that I was given a chance and I always negate that ever step after that was a choice.  In my head it was just what I needed to do.  No biggie, who wouldn't endure years of therapy, multiple surgeries, and keep fighting tooth and nail just to have their independence?  Gee, when I put it that way, I can see where people might be impressed.  If I'd chosen to just stay in the wheelchair no one would have ever thought less of me.  I'd still be the woman lucky to live through the crash, shame she's in a wheel chair.

Now with a few people it's "it's a shame she limps" and to them I can say screw you.  I walk, hell sometimes I jog thankyouverymuch.

#7 is a hard one for me.  At some point I developed an idea that accepting praise meant I was a self centered egotistical ass.  Plus how can you be proud of things people say about you when they are nit wits?  I am working on accepting praise, feeling the warmth of those sentiments, and using them to propel myself forward.

#1 is the only one I have mastered at this time.  Oh how glorious to read other people's stories and find I'm am so far from alone.  I'm not even in the running to be the poster child.  That says a lot right there ...

He said it better

From "Tough as they come" by Trevor Mills …

This is how I always feel when someone tells me they couldn't do what I've done. Travis just says it much better!

#nevergiveupneverquit

Sharing? Over sharing? Do I care?

Part of growing as a person is doing things that scare you.  Sharing my blog scares me.  They claim facing fears helps you grow as a person, so I'm sharing.

Now as for who "they" are, I don't know.  Are they the same they that say spinach is good for you or is it like government agencies with multiple "they" departments?

At any rate, here it is.  Or at least as much as I will let out at this time.  I'd ask that you be kind in the comments, but let's face it, if you're not, you probably aren't someone who matters to me anyhow.

Enjoy!
Karen
 

Karen, meet Karen

This morning I was looking at Facebook and happened across Mike Rowe's latest post.  I'll freely admit it, he's one of my crushes.  Dirty jobs ... I'll give you a ... never mind, I regress.

Any how, he had a wonderful veteran's day related post about this guy named Travis Mills.  You can read more about Travis here (http://www.travismills.org/) or look up Mike Rowe's FB post.

Travis, to make his story short, got blown up.  Blown up big time to the extent he lost all his limbs.  Now this is someone I can look at and think "damn, I didn't go through anything!" and a million other things, but while I can admit I did visit that spot briefly, it didn't last.

Instead as I read about him I thought "yes! someone else who GETS it!"

What is the it?

It is the position of having to deal with something that everyone else tells you they couldn't do.  I have no idea how many times I've been told "I couldn't do what you've done" in response to my crash, recovery and what I've done since.  It's hard to explain how that makes me feel.  First off, I don't take it as insult or anything negative, but more often it sends me into this introspective place.

Most people don't want a reply to that statement other than thank you.  Some times I want to answer them.  Standard reply is "I hope you never have to find out."  I guess it's odd to me because I probably would have said the same thing before I got my body rearranged.  I couldn't do what I've done.  Nope, no way, no how.

But when I was in the situation I didn't think I was going to die.  It never occurred to me to just give up and stay in the wheelchair.  I don't know how to explain it, but it seriously wasn't something I invested a lot of time into thinking through.  I just did it.  That's why when people say they couldn't do what I've done I think "well that's just plain silly, of course you could!"  Through my eyes it's not special or amazing, it's just what I needed to do.

If I really get hyper critical I do know that no, not everyone can do what I've done.  Not everyone has the stubbornness, determination, attitude, and humor to keep on going.  I've seen the ones who have given up.  I've seen the ones that frankly have a much easier road to travel that I did and they don't even bother looking where they might be able to go.

I think for me, the issue becomes one of humility versus pride when I discuss what I've over come.  It means the world to me when people share how I motivate them, how impressed they are, etc. at my journey, but at the same time it makes me feel like "who the hell do I think I am, I'm no one special."  My closest friends have chimed in on this when I bring it up and their opinion is that I should embrace the fact that I defied odds to be where I am.  Defying the odds means that I did make my own odds up.  My initial diagnosis was filled with lists of things I most likely wouldn't ever do again.  Fortunately I had a surgeon who never gave me that list.

Funny, I always give him credit for letting me try things and doing things in an unconventional way.  I have told the story a million times of how he left my arm the way it is (non-union) despite being told her could do it simply because "you don't know Karen."  I have always given him credit for that ... always ... great doctor who made that choice.  It's been about 11 years since that surgery and it never occurred to me until just this moment that I was the one that inspired him to make that choice.

Damn ... I can be really slow at times.  I never looked at it from his point of view.  What everyone else he consulted with saw was an arm that couldn't and wouldn't work.  What he saw was a woman who'd beaten other odds and would attempt to beat this one with the same fight and attitude as the rest of the battles.  He told me at the time he told his colleagues "you don't know Karen."  Funny, I guess I don't always know Karen either.  I'm getting to know her though.

To come back to my original point ... in reading about Travis I found myself connecting with his attitudes and words.  So much so that I ordered his book.  I so identified with his "I'm just me, only different" attitude because that's how I feel.  Yet, I can look at him and be in awe of what he's done.   I think he's helped me bridge the gap between pride of accomplishment and ego.  For me to publicly celebrate my accomplishments has always made me feel like an egomaniac.  Look at me, I over came all this ... what have you done with your life?

I never want to be that person.  Weird thing is in being that person, I've negated what I have done.  That really isn't far to me and it is holding me back from attacking what I still want to accomplish.  I'm starting to realize that I can be so very proud of myself and that beyond that I have to let go of how people take that.  Those who know me, know I would never use what I've been through to make them feel bad, but I've worried that I could give that message to others.  Now I realize that I can't control what people take from my story.  I've had a lot of wonderful people tell me how I've helped them in little ways here and there.  To me that keep me going, gives me hope, and reminds me to keep fighting.  I'd rather keep fueling myself and the people who need it than worry about offending someone who was looking to be offended and hurt.

Guess maybe it's time to let this blog be a little less private ....

Long time no update

Since we last met I've received a diagnosis of fibromyalgia. We are playing with medicine now, but so far, so good. 

Right now I'm hanging out in a hospital waiting room while Michael gets a total knee replacement. I'm not nervous, everyone is taking good care of him. I'm hoping that it goes easy, that his pain is managed, and therapy goes well. It's been weird moving faster than him!

No gym with my workout buddy for a while but my goal is to go while he's at therapy. Might as well match his efforts!

Conquering fear

Last night I went to a party. Yeah, scary!  It was a party that I knew one person, the very busy host. 

I was terrified. Like heart pounding, almost drove back home terrified. This was first day of school, what if no one likes me, will I have to each lunch at a table by myself? kind of terrifying. Plus I'm 46, I haven't dealt with feeling this way in well over 30 years!

I jumped in. Fortunately it was this wonderful collection of funny and kind people. And the quickness of the humor and comebacks!  I feel like the laughter lifted my soul. To laugh, to make others laugh, and to just share life's stories was such a blessing!

I grew up with the message and reinforced idea that humor means you aren't taking life seriously and life is serious business!  The problem with that is my humor is so much a part of me that it's always been something that defines me. So basically if you don't like or approve of my humor, you don't like or approve of me. 

Because of this disconnect I've always this feeling of being an actor playing the role of the Karen everyone else wants. I've slowly been working on just being me in all venues. It's been hard to shed the people pleaser, make everyone else happy side and just adopt a love me or leave me attitude. Last night was a turning point for me. 

I don't even need a love me or leave me attitude. I left just thinking how much fun and how much laughter I shared.  I laughed. I made others laugh. That energy is so powerful!

I'm so done feeling regretful for not being able to be the round peg in the round hole. I've always felt that I'm not right, that I should apologize for not fitting the mold. 

Today I realize that it's not me, it's not my issue, and I'm not a peg. This issue is with those who need to have perfection. I wish them all the luck in the world, but if they are trying to fit me through that little round hole, they are wasting the time and effort!  

Let them organize their pegs -- I have my life to live!

Finally a few answers

For the last 17 months I had the ugliest patches of dry, itchy, irritated skin on my ankles and right elbow. They would itch so bad I would scratch until they were raw.

Lotion, oil, steroid creams, compression bandages, antibacterial ointments, and what ever suggestions I would find online or through word of mouth.   At one point I wrapped my ankles in gauze to keep me from scratching and to attempt some level of healing.

The one time I was brave enough to wear sandals to work this summer a coworker had to make an exclamation in front of everyone about my skin and what could be wrong.

Over time I started to accept this was my skin and I just had to grow the confidence to not care what it looked like. I was told it would never go away and my legs would always look flaming red.

This morning I looked down to see a normal colored leg and a little scar from the now healed last spot I clawed at.

It's ok for the tears to fall now. It's ok to admit how challenging it's been with all this autoimmune stuff going on to keep moving forward. "Why bother" began to be a familiar refrain, but with the help from wonderful people in my life "why bother" would get replaced each time with "but you are strong!"

Through this experience I have grown as a person. You'd think after the car crash I'd never question my strength, but I do!  Those who know me are used to my shrugged shoulders and "meh" response when asked to analyze what I've been through.

The one consistent thought I've always had since very early in my rehabilitation is that God has his reasons. I have to trust Him. Sure, I've joked that I get it, I'm strong, we can be done with the testing, but I know He has more to teach me.

The message that I seem to constantly need to learn, accept and celebrate is that I am worth the fight and what I want to achieve is worth fighting for!

Oh, and yes, yes I am strong.

Litus, smitus ...

Since June I have been battling what was thought to be cellulitis.  I have spent over a thousand dollars in copays, including a night at the hospital and so many antibiotics I’ve lost count of names and durations they’ve been taken.

Long before June I’ve been battling with extreme exhaustion.  Stress, that’s what everyone says it is, just stress – eliminate stress from your life!  They stumble when you reply “how?”  Can’t remove the stresses (parents’ health, my health, work stress) unless I plan on abandoning everyone and everything.  Plus anyone who knows me is aware that would just compound everything because it would add guilt to the regimen. 

Last week my leg started to flare up again.  Four rounds of antibiotics, each time it would go away then show up about 10 days later.  It started Tuesday night and I went in the bathroom to hide and cry.  I try my best to be strong, but I’d had enough of this.

By Wednesday morning my leg looked like it had been scalded.  Bright, fiery red.  It passed pink and went straight to “holy shit” status.  I put on yet another pair of compression socks, headed to work, then called to see the doctor AGAIN.  No problem leaving work because untreated cellulitis can kill you.  They want me alive…

Saw my doctor, more antibiotics, some tears, and that was that.  I wasted time looking for a new car (whole other story, but one I will share – might be titled “Why yes, I am blunt (aka the bitch)) and then went to see the rheumatologist for the results of the eight vials of blood that was collected on my previous visit.

He has a male nurse, which is awesome, except for the part of being weighed.  Some how it’s less intense when it’s a female weighing me, which seems stupid because this wasn’t the start of a date.  We went through the vitals and I kindly explained that if I was told I was just fine I was going to have a complete mental breakdown in the office, but would try to restrict it to being a quiet meltdown. 

The doctor came in, he started talking about where we were and where he wanted to go when I mentioned the cellulitis.  I’d mentioned it previously, but it was under control so there were no visuals.  He asked to see what I was talking about and I showed him my leg, the patches that I’d been told were eczema, and he began poking on my leg, then comparing it to the other one, checking different things.

“You don’t have cellulitis, you have panniculitis!”  

There was a moment of silence at this news.  For him it was apparently revolutionary.  As for me I was thinking “ok, still an itus!”  Then he became very animated, showed me images online and my first words were “oh my god, those are my legs!”

He explained to me that this changed everything.  I went from having lupus markers to possibly not having them.  He gave me the full name, told me a steroid would get the inflammation down, to read up on things, and he promised me I would feel better in a week. No eczema either ... I just started tearing up.  He told me he wanted me back in a few weeks, but that lupus was now taken out of the picture.  He has a few things he wants to check when the rest of the symptoms subside, but he was pretty sure they were penniculitis related.  He also said get rid of the compression socks, my body considers them trauma (so does my mind!) He patted me on the shoulder and reminded me that he said he would help me feel better.  I thanked him profusely and made my way out of the building.

I got to my car and googled “idiopathic nodular panniculits.”

https://rarediseases.org/rare-diseases/panniculitis-idiopathic-nodular/

“Signs & Symptoms

Idiopathic nodular panniculitis usually begins gradually. Abnormal bumps or masses (nodules) appear in the fatty layer under the skin (subcutaneous fat) of the legs, thighs, and buttocks. In some cases, the arms, abdomen, and/or face may be involved. These nodules are usually 1-2 centimeters wide and may be either painful and tender or painless. In some cases, the affected area may become red (erythema) and waste away (atrophic), eventually healing and leaving a slight depression.

Another common finding associated with idiopathic nodular panniculitis is recurrent episodes of fever. Additional symptoms include a general feeling of ill health (malaise), fatigue, muscle pain (myalgia), joint pain (arthralgia), and/or abdominal pain. In some cases, weight loss may occur and nausea may be present.”

Fever – check

General feeling of ill health – check

Fatigue – check check check

Muscle pain – check

Joint pain – you know it

Nausea – check and glad to know what THAT was about

Reading this and realizing how far beyond an angry red leg this went was mind blowing.  I sat there, stunned, and slowly started sobbing.  Large, giant, gut wrenching sobs.  I wasn’t upset, but thrilled.  I had an answer.  I had a rare disease, but it came with an answer and treatment.

It’s one week later and as promised I feel better.  My left leg is bordering on looking normal.  Even the swelling has subsided, leaving my ankle quite thin and my shoes needing to be laced tighter.  All the dry patches of my skin have healed, leaving my limbs looking quiet ordinary.

Monday the brain fog lifted.  I felt like my head was being unwrapped from a dozen layers of cotton batting.  As the day went on I kept making remarks about how I wasn’t tired.  I felt alive. I felt …. Able.

It’s now Thursday and I can say I’m a little tired.  Brain is functioning much better.  Energy is up.  I have actually gone to the gym twice on my own and killed it.  Last night I noticed the leg press didn’t hurt me as it pressed in my skin.  The pressure always made me wince, to the point that I couldn’t always lift as much as I wanted because of the pain.  Last night there was none.

I do have regrets when I realize how long I have probably been dealing with the effects of this disease.  It easily falls into the years long category, but a huge part of that was due to attributing everything to my car crash and stress.  It never occurred to me that it would go beyond that!

Never occurred to me that I could ever feel normal again either.  I’d started to give up and accept that this is what happens as my body ages.

Now I feel like there is so much more possible for me.  I have a lot of uncharted waters to check out and I plan to do so.

It doesn't have to make sense

Sometimes I just get the strangest feelings. Today even though I had a really strong aqua Zumba class I had this nagging feeling that I should go try to jog.

Now if you know me, you would know how strange the statement that is. My legs are not the same length. Some days I don't even walk well. So what in the world makes me think that I need to try jogging?

Why? Because one thing I always try to do is listen to my body. Today it just happens that my body was saying hey Karen let's go for a jog!

Before I could change my mind I went to the park where there's a half mile trail and I started off. The first few attempts weren't that great but as I made it further around I started to average 50% walking and 50% slow jogging. As I was rounding the bend to where my car is parked I wondered what this would do to my body and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd regret it later. It was at that point that I looked down at the ground and saw a path of leaves, each shaped like a heart.

It was in that moment that I realized I made the best choice. Doesn't matter how fast I went. It doesn't matter how good it looked. What matters is that I did it!

Self adjusting my attitude

Sept. 2010 & July 2015

      
Every now and then I go through a rough patch.  As much as I wish that all the negative could be expelled out of my head, so much of it lingers, waiting to bubble up when I least expect it.


As near as I can figure I have issues with making progress.  Let  me hit a milestone and I will spend the next couple of weeks trying to prove that it was a fluke, I'm a fake, and that it's a freaking miracle that 60 pounds are gone.  Ahem, yes, we ALL know that weight just falls off like that with no effort, especially off of me.

May 2010 & July 2015

When I can actually step away from the situation and look at my progress through non-Karen eyes I am able to see things differently.  The problem is getting to that non-Karen view.  I've made such lengthy progress.  I really have.  Now I just get frustrated with the scale and my choices, which makes me feel stuck and stagnant, even though it's really just another bump in the road.

I made myself look back at old pictures and forced myself to put them side by side and critique them like I would a stranger's pictures.  Maybe lopping off my head would help, because it's still hard.  Fat roll here, wish my legs were smaller, blah blah blah.  STOP.  I wouldn't say that to a friend!  I wouldn't point out all the work still needed to someone and expect them to feel encouraged, so why do I do this to myself?

So I look ... and I can see the changes ... and by God they are good!  Yes, I can totally see a difference.  Especially when I do block my head ... odd isn't it?

To complete this little exercise I posted the side by side to my Facebook page.  Talk about a scary thing to hit enter on!  Putting this out there makes it a little bit more real.  It's like I invited everyone I know to say "hmm, well, it's good YOU see it" and also put me 100% out on my biggest roadblock.  Failure.

Why yes, I've been at it almost 5 years, lost 60 pounds, and still feel like I'm going to disappoint people again.  Granted no one I know has flat out said "gee Karen, you really f-ed up gaining all that weight back from the last time!" but there have been comments.  I've been told it's a shame I still have to fight.  I've been asked what makes this time different.  I had someone at work say "what a waste, all that work" (maybe he meant waist!)

For me this really is my hardest obstacle, but conquering it will be my biggest triumph.  I'm getting there.  Putting my picture out there ... I have formally waved the green flag for EVERYONE I'm friends with to say look at me, judge me, guage my progress!

But that's all.

Of course I will embrace encouragement!  I'm no fool, but beyond that ... this particular journey has one driver, me.  I started to say I have had a lot of detours on my path, but realized that isn't what they are.  I'm not taking the scenic, come what may path either.  It's more like a constantly unrolling map being put out in front of me with ever changing choices. Kind of like the old "choose your own adventure" books where you get to decide which direction to go next!  I'm working on not wasting energy on the would of, could of, should of parts of life and focusing on the what I can and am doing.

Progress!

Time flows like a river ...

It’s now been over 4 ½ years since I joined Weight Watchers again.  Almost half a decade now I’ve devoted myself to a journey of better health.

Looking back I can say a lot of things.

I’ve never been perfect.

I’ve never been consistent.

I’ve never been a 100% all in.

I’ve never been anything less than me.

I’ve never been prouder of myself.

Lot of “nevers” there, but all of them are true.  When I started this time I had the visions of “in one year I’ll be …….” And then a year came and went.  All the things I thought in the beginning didn’t quite play out the way I planned.  All the things I would be able to do, all the clothes I would fit in, the whole new Iife I’d have, none of that happened.

At first I went through the obligatory honeymoon phase where you weigh, track and measure all your food and diligently track them.  Then when the glitter falls off that or you have your first (gasp) gain, things get a little rougher.  I suppose I should say “for some” and not lump everyone into this category.  I shall just say that I’ve experienced it and witnessed it a *cough* few *cough* times with others.

What happened to me and I’m sure others is life gets in the way of things.  For me the answer to this was to never give up.  If there is any secret to share, that would be mine.  Don’t. Give. Up.

I can say with complete honesty that if you took about 10 feet of kite string, wadded it up, ran it through mud, snow, and rain, then let it dry to a hardened crusty tangle you would have a pretty good visual of my journey so far.  Dirty, little sad looking, and all over the place.  Yes, that sums it up pretty well.  But if you took the time to really look, you’d also see that it’s not a broken string, it’s just beat up.

Since I’ve started WW I’ve tracked, not tracked, drank water, not drank much water, over eaten, under eaten, eaten like I was having a last meal, acted like I wasn’t on WW, been active, been a slug, reached some personal goals, set new personal records, started over a long way from where I was, and pretty much everything in between.

Somewhere in all that I found myself.  I can’t say that I’ve found my way, because I’m still going.  There is no finish line, except death and I’m not eager to find that line, even if it did have a balloon arch and fireworks.

As of last night I am 60.8 pounds from where I started.  While I’ve always been on my journey, I finally hit a place mentally where I can look back and nod knowingly at the triumphant trail of fat cells that are someplace on the path behind me.

It’s hard not to compare yourself to others, but I’m really progressing on that.  It’s empowering when you reach the point where you know you own your journey.  The speed of that varies, but what matters is getting there.  If you can start out there, awesome, if it takes you 10 years, that’s awesome too.

My journey isn’t harder, easier, faster, slower, or whatever other descriptive than yours or the person a block over.  I have my own lessons to learn.  I have my own hills to climb.  I have had mountains and cliffs so far.  I’ve had a lot of clear smooth sailing days too.  The point is, it’s all mine to navigate and that has taken time.  It will continue to take time.  Others will join WW and hit goal before I do.  Others will give up and disappear before I hit goal.  Their journeys can and will teach me things, but they will not define mine.

As amazing as hitting 60 pounds gone, something bigger happened last night.  I had just arrived at my meeting and was chatting with my friends when I heard “well hello Karen” and turned to find a relative.  My first words were “hello, what brings you here?”  She looked at me with what I recognized as “the look” since it’s a shared female trait in Mom’s family, and says “I’m here to lose weight, obviously.”  It was the same shared condescending tone as well.  I smiled and told her she was in the right place.

My first thought was “well there goes my meetings!” because once again I was confronted with situation where being me and what I’m expected to be with family don’t always merge.  I thought I would now sit quietly and not interact like I used to.

Then I stopped myself.  What the hell was I thinking?  I have to change who I am?!?!?  Talk about a wft moment in my life!  What’s she going to do, tell the extended family that I only see at funerals that I talk a lot at my meeting?  These people matter how?  This was all processed in a matter of seconds in my brain and I shared my inner battle with a few friends.  The looked so confused as to why I thought I should change and that confirmed what I’d thought.  I don’t need to change if it means conforming to someone else’s idea of who I should be … and that idea isn’t one that enhances my life.

I will conform to your idea if you see me as stronger than I see myself, smarted than I give myself credit, and more capable than I can dream, because the people who have done that for me all along have kept my fire stoked.  I am so blessed that I have wonderful people who believe in me even when I don’t believe in myself.  I have cheerleaders who are proud of me for finally seeing in myself what they say they’ve always seen.

I’m only guessing what my relative thinks of me.  She may have been in awe of me for all I know (can’t say that she spoke to me after the meeting! Ha!)  The point for me was that I have embraced being me.  That means I love me, I love the people who love me, and if you can’t stand me, that’s just fine too.  I’m going to make it without your adoration *grin*

So the long winded point of this all was to say: the next time you find yourself giving up for whatever reason, don’t.  Take a break, throw a fit, wallow, whatever, but then get right back at it.  Learn on the journey.  Learn to celebrate your body.  Learn to celebrate little things.  Be proud of every single day you are trying.

You’ll get there.  And then there.  And then there from there.