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.

Not just one but two ...

So in answer to the previous post's question, it involved an IV, two actually.  Dr. P took one look at my leg and said "guess where you're going?"  I attempted to argue, but when confronted with "ok, I can give you one more shot and Sunday you'll be in the emergency room and I will not be around" I decided to just submit.

I kind of freaked.  Kind of.  Not completely.  I let a couple people know what was up, but none of them responded as they apparently have lives that don't revolve around me.  Imagine that.

Michael called back and for all practical purposes he was ok.  At least he sounded calm.  He kept it in until later in the day.  He drove me to the hospital, went through the admitting process with me, and hung around until I could see he was getting to be a flight risk and sent him home.

Long story short, I learned some good things and bad things about myself.  Bad - I must have ptsd because when they put me in a wheelchair I had a slight mental breakdown.  Fortunately a well timed message from my friend Jen calmed me.  She reminded me that it wasn't because I couldn't walk.  Big duh, I know, but in that moment it was like everything I'd worked so hard for was stripped away.  I didn't claim it was logical, it was just the raw emotion.

Good things - even with room service I ordered healthy options, I dealt better with the whole situation, and I was given a really strong awakening to why my efforts to become healthier are so important.  I missed being able to move and exercise.  I hated being told I couldn't go to aqua zumba.

I don't like hospitals.  They weren't mean or anything, I just prefer the comforts of home.

When I left ... didn't mind being a wheelchair.  I remembered it was just a means of transportation and a temporary one.  Plus he humored me when I kept saying "faster, faster, faster!"

I also learned how wonderful of a support system I have.  I have the best people in my life.  Blessed!

Done hiding, time to seek...

You know that saying “God never gives you more than you can handle?”  Or the other great one “whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!”

I just want to put it out there that if anyone says either to me, I will not be held responsible for my actions.  Seriously, you’ve been warned.

So the cellulitis is getting worse, not better.  I’m giving it until tomorrow before I call the doctor.  I’m not sure where you go next when you’ve been prescribed an antibiotic that is supposed to make all the little bad bacteria bits to explode like a car in an action movie.  Let’s hope I don’t find out, but if I do, let’s hope it doesn’t involve an iv.

I saw the new endocrinologist yesterday.  Nice guy, totally on board with figuring out what’s wrong with me, and has ordered further tests.  He’s going to check my human growth hormone level and my cortisol level, both of which I thought were just things the magic weight loss pills shown on TV were supposed to cure.  Ok, anyone else have the image of the fat body with the arrows going around it as the torso shrinks?  That could be me!!!

The more disturbing test is going to be a thyroid biopsy of a nodule on the front, center of my thyroid.  Disturbing because they are going to stick a big needle into my body!  He did mention the C word, but didn’t really say he thought that could be it.  He just didn’t really say that it isn’t it.  He asked twice if there was any family history of thyroid cancer, to which I said no, but let’s face it, there could be and I don’t know.  I do have the most ginormous extended family on both sides and don’t even know all my cousins, let alone what various illnesses they’ve suffered.  Whatever happens, it will be dealt with.  If it’s nothing, it’s nothing.  If it needs chopped out, chop it out (but nicely so I have a pretty scar!)

I’m dealing with the thought of what it could be far better than Michael.  He wasn’t home when I called so I just left a message saying “doc wants to do a biopsy.”  I was more focused on my own needs at the time so I didn’t really consider what he would think hearing this.  Being some what pessimistic his response was to have a complete breakdown with minor outbreaks for the rest of the day.  He was struck both by how unfair it is that I’m having all these problems and a fear that I could die.  We both agreed that the car crash really should have fulfilled any weird contract I’ve made with the powers that be, but who really knows why things happen besides Him?

I think my biggest victory aside from keeping my sanity fairly intact is that I haven’t binged.  Oh I’ve made some unwise choices (5 WW dulce de leche bars in a ROW – booya!) but for the most part I’ve been good.  Counted my points, stayed in my range, nothing I’m not willing to step up and own.  Used a couple weekly points, but that’s what they’re for.  I haven’t had any huge off the rail, fall off the wagon, super binge like I would have in the past.

In the past I would have gone through every food that had ever given me comfort and consumed large amounts of them until I was withering in pain, but distracted from reality.  The problem with that any more is that the whole process doesn’t work for me.  I used to eat all that crap to prove that I am some horrible person who deserves all these horrible things.  When I had the blood clot I comforted myself with a Little Caesar’s pepperoni pizza in my car.  How was that comfort?  I felt sick, bloated and a like a failure and that pain was so much easier to handle than the terrifying rebellion my body was having against me.  In my head I would do this whole thing of proving I was a person who deserved bad things.  

See, you are a dumb ass that just ate a whole freaking pizza, so that’s why you were lucky enough to get a clot!

For some there is probably a lot of confusion on why I would do this and think this.  Things happen, it’s just the way it is.  But when you have low self esteem and a healthy amount of preconditioned behavior it is easier to deal with the familiar “problems” than new ones.  I know how to handle being a weight loss failure.  I know how to deal with being out of control with my eating.  That stuff is easy, routine, and in a horrible way, safe.

It’s been a year and a half since that diagnosis and a lot has changed in me.  I’ve been working hard to change my habits and I have surrounded myself with positive people who have built up my self esteem.  I wouldn’t tell my best friend she deserved an illness, so why would I tell myself that?

Whatever I do have (or don’t have) is unknown right now, but it will be dealt with.  No pity parties about the fairness of life, but no stoic “this is the hand I’ve been dealt” speech either.  I have something wrong, something is making me feel less than good, and I am being proactive in finding what that is.  That alone makes me proud.  To see the ability in myself to stop hiding and face the scariness of life is the largest signs of progress I have.  Facing my fears is something I’ve never done well.  I’ve hid (and used excess weight to hide behind) and I’m done hiding.

Doctor, it hurts when I do this ....

I'm kind of in a weird phase right now, like an untethered balloon or a ping ball dropped from 12 feet up, bouncing around with no direction.

A big part of this is medical stuff.  Not medical stuff that is diagnosed, but the uber fun "hmm, I'm not sure why you feel like road kill, you seem to be healthy" stuff.

Thankfully I have had doctors who believe me and don't just toss out the "if you lost some weight and exercised" crap.  I did recently change doctors though, not because I hated mine, but I heard about one that is a little bit more thorough and proactive.

I was completely set for my first appointment, armed to the teeth with my evidence.  Weight Watcher logs - check.  Garmin Vivofit app updated - check.  Patient ready for battle - check!

Turned out I didn't need any of that, she listened, looked at my weight chart and me, and told me we would find answers, just be patient, it might take time.

Perhaps the most stunning thing for me was when she asked how long it had taken me to lose 55 pounds.  Although I wanted to cock my head and present it proudly, I'm sure I looked more sheepish when I said four and a half years.  I was ready, here is comes, tell me what I'm doing wrong ....

"That's perfect!  You're doing awesome!  Don't change what you are doing!"

I don't know if I would have looked more shocked if she'd berated me and told me I was a failure.  I know it showed on my face because she made sure to get it through my thick little skull that this is exactly what she wanted to hear.

She checked me out, ordered a gazillion blood tests, and scheduled another visit to go over the labs in a week.

So I spent a week wondering what medical science would discover for me.  Low vitamin B12 (bingo!) maybe?   Anemia?  Mysterious unknown medical condition that would be named after me (Karenitus Smartassiskis?)

All my test came back great except for one for rheumatoid arthritis.  That was one I hadn't planned on.  She doesn't really think I have it, she thinks it's a false positive, but I get to see a specialist for that lovely diagnosis.  From what I've been told that blood panel costs as much as a new car.  I'm worth it!

All my levels are text book perfect and she remarked that she wished her good cholesterol level was as good as mine.  (Thank you, thank you very much!)

She did order a sleep study, which was denied because I'M TOO HEALTHY and have only the word of Michael about whether I snore or stop breathing at night.  I notice neither, but then again, I'm sleeping!

Something else she looked at while reviewing my medications was what I was prescribed for allergies/hives.  She did suggest I lay off it and look into what affects it has had on other people.  Since Google can be your friend, I did check it out, and let's just leave it as I have full comprehension of what it feels to be Michael Jackson on propofol,  minus the creepy doctor watching me sleep.  Although there could have been one, I just don't know.

I'm seeing a new endocrinologist today so maybe that will give me answers.  *shrug*  If not maybe the rheumatologist will have answers in a few weeks.

In the mean time my cellulitis (MINE because, yes I am owning it!) came back.  I'm still going on the "thank God it wasn't a blood clot" thought and keeping optimistic, but I'm ready for this crap to seriously be knocked out of me.  Since she's giving me a medicine that may cause explosive diarrhea and I can't go out in the sun while on it, I'm hoping this will take care of things.  Just to be clear, I'm not as worried about the possible fecal explosions as I am about what will happen to me if I go out in the sun.   Since she told me I have to slather on high spf sunscreen and wear a hat if I'm out more than a couple minutes I do think it might turn me into a vampire for it's 10 day course.  I'll update if I can't see myself in the mirror later ....