All cracked up.

Are you an extremist? 

I am not referring to skydiving, or motor cross racing, or even those weird old guys that go swimming outdoors in a lake when it is 20 degrees outside.  I mean the kind of person who needs to be at one end of the spectrum or the other.  Either very happy or depressed, either on a torturous diet or binge eating, either accomplishing your dreams to perfection or not even trying.   We may not be extremists about everything all the time, but perhaps there is something that you do to an extreme.

I believe it takes time, wisdom, life experiences, and a certain level of maturity to be able to reach the point where one might learn that moderation may be the key to a satisfying life.  In order to be in harmony and at peace within ourselves, we must first accept the things we do imperfectly.  We must understand that if something is not grand, marvelous, impeccable, or perfect, it doesn’t mean it is bad or that it was a failure.   We must know our shortcomings and love ourselves anyway. 

I was in a pottery class a few years ago, and the instructor, being a long bearded, flip-flop wearing, bit of a hippie, liked to share his philosophy’s on life while we all bent at our spinning wheels, trying to mold the clay into something that would stay upright.  I don’t remember anything he said except for one time.  He once told the class to focus on quantity not quality, because the more pots we throw the better our pots will be. 

For some reason this idea stuck in my head.  I use this theory to remind myself to be forgiving.  I did not run at all this week.  I could easily decide to feel awful, I could feel depressed, I could feel like a big giant ball of failure.  However, even though I have disappointed myself, I can still try again this next week.  I am not an extremist. (I say it to remind myself)  I am not going to give up and never exercise again because I failed this week. 

I used to have the extreme mind-set when it came to dieting.  I once decided to eat nothing but one cup of plain rice and half an orange a day. (I had found the diet in a book somewhere, and the lady had supposedly lost a hundred pounds and was never hungry.)  I tried that diet for nine days.  By the end of the ninth day I was so ill I couldn’t see straight and probably couldn’t tell you my own name.  I was near the point of passing out when my mother forced me to eat.  I ate the meal she gave me, but my brain was telling me I was still starving, so I ate more and more, and finally crashed into a deep sleep.  The next day I convinced myself that it didn’t matter what I ate anymore, I had already messed up my brilliant diet plan the day before. 

See, extremist. 

I did that many more times, with all sorts of diets.  My teens and early twenties were a roller coaster of dieting and exercise schemes, until I came to the point where my metabolism didn’t know how it is supposed to work.  I broke myself.

That was years of imperfect pots, which I failed to see as lessons. 

I live life differently now.  I make mistakes (boy! do I make mistakes.) I have bad days and I can see them for experiences to do things a little differently, to improve myself, to learn.  I often enjoy seeing my imperfect pots.  I enjoy it because I know that I can forgive myself, allow myself to fail, and then make different choices tomorrow, better than before.   

me, me, me.

When writing a blog, it would be helpful to recieve feedback.  Good or bad.  I suppose if I had some followers then they could give me input or criticism.  Perhaps this topic is too narrow, or too personal, or embarassing, or just too self-indulgent.  It can be so very irritating to have conversations with someone who is only focused on themself.  I know from experience that it can get old to hear/read "I" "I" "I", over and over again, from the same person.  BUT, perhaps my lack of followers is simply due to my bad grammar. :)

Either way, I am not sure if this blog-thing experience has been very good for enyone aside from myself.  It is strange, because I honestly love people and want others to benefit from this...well...experiment. 

I believe I have benefitted from it.  Maybe not in a I-discovered-how-to-change-my-life-through-blogging-and-gained-worldwide(or even statewide)-recognition-as-a-good-writer-and-now-has-a-career-doing-what-I-love kind of way.  But, in a quiet and self-recognition kind of way.  I have been able to voice some things that I have never shared or spoken about before.  Some things that I had not honestly wanted to acknowledge, even to myself.  After saying that, I also must admit that there is more that I need to put into words.  I want to be able to be even MORE honest with myself.  I don't think I am finished blogging, despite the very few views and 0 comments. 

And, I may need to decide that a little self-indulgence can go a long way. 

Fat Suit Episode 3

I mentioned the proverbial “fat suit” for the first time a couple of posts ago. 

I know that I often use language that implies that I am not responsible for my current state of obesity.   I often share experiences which imply that other people simply do not understand.   I believe those things have truth. 

No matter how I tiptoe around it, I also know that I do not like to admit that I am fat because I made myself this way.  I don’t want to say that I overeat, that I am an emotional eater, that I use food to fulfill gaps in my emotional wellbeing, or that I just might feel safer in my fat suit than in any other state of being.  But, those things also have truth.

There are many ways for an individual to protect themselves physically and emotionally.  Being a person who simply wanted to fade into the background, wanted to be ignored, wanted to not be noticed by sexual predators, I may have subconsciously built a guard around myself.  An armor of fat instead of steel to keep the villains at bay. 

As I have grown into adulthood and overcome and understood my past experiences I have yet to grow out of the mindset that tells me I need this armor.  No matter how strong I know I am, no matter how prepared and capable I am to defend myself if I need to, I still hold on to this armor. 

I feel it is a crutch.  It is an armor that weighs me down, blocks me from being seen truly as I am. 

 How does one remove this emotional need to be protected?  How will I be able to let go of my armor, and lose it completely?  I don’t know the next step.        

Biting the Bullet

I think I want to try to run a 5 or 10k.  I know this may not seem like much.  I think it converts to about 3 or 8 miles.  Not an enormous athletic feat for the average person, probably.  But, I am still sitting on the fence about whether or not I should commit to it.  I may be running now, but I still run with intermittent walking when I need to catch my breath.  I still have sore and painful joints and muscles after jogging around my neighborhood.  It takes, at the very least, 4 days for my body to heal in between runs.  It is hard.  The fact that it is hard, makes me want to set my sights on something that I never thought I could do; to run in some kind of marathon, even if it’s just a 10k.  I will have to train better and work harder at getting consistent exercise.  I will have to be better about managing my pain.  I will have to get better sleep, and I will have to spend more of my energy focusing on just myself.  Will my family survive it? J 

I hope to be ready to run a 10k in the early summer time.   I hope I can find a 10k that is taking place around that time, here in Arizona.  I hope that I can put myself above the daily grind and needs of my family. 

I mostly hope that I can stop oscillating and just commit to doing it.

No Excuses.

I’m gonna do it!  

Running Club

Running Club: 

Some form of anxiety begins to fill my chest as I wait with the other runners at the starting line.  A bullhorn is blown and someone starts yelling “Go, Go, Go!”   I began to move as those around me take off.  I allow the other runners to go ahead of me, not minding when they pass me by.  It is exhilarating to be surrounded by excited and moving bodies, who are all anxious to speed up, all ready to shoot forward when there is no one blocking their way.  After a crowded few minutes the space opens up and I have a little elbow room.  I take it easy, going at a steady jog.  I know that my breath is already rasping and that I am among the slower runners bringing up the rear.  It is fun, it is exciting, and I jog, with intermittent walking, for 6 laps.  The equivalent of a mile and a half.  I am the tallest person out on the elementary school playground.  I stay within the coned off trail.  Many other runners are cutting through the open field or using the brightly colored, plastic cones as hurdles, leaping over them.  Sometimes they knock them over and I bend to pick them back up.  I stop to help tie shoe laces when needed, and my 1^st grader gives me a high five, and asks for water.   I am part of my son’s elementary school running club.  Every student is invited to participate.  Two days a week they meet after school.  Each time they make the loop around the outskirts of the playground, a parent volunteer hands them a popsicle stick, and at the end of the 30 minutes every student’s popsicle sticks are counted and recorded.  The weekly count is added to the previous week.  Those students who have a large amount of laps recorded will receive recognition at the end of the school year.  Some kids even get up to a hundred or more laps. 

My son and I both usually run 6 laps, though He is getting faster and will often go ahead of me to keep up with his buddies.  Neither of us are naturally lithe and springy like many of the kids that shoot past us.  But, we love the feeling of running.  As a parent, I love that he loves it. J 

I also have a deep appreciation for the idea that our efforts add up.  Three laps one day, four laps later in the week.  They are very small feats.  They may not really be very important.  However, they add up.  By the end of the year I can tell my son that he has run 22miles, or 30miles, or even 50 (depending on how much faster we might get). 

The little things that we do in our lives, for ourselves, our health, and for our children can really add up and teach a much bigger lesson than simply how to run in a circle.  The little things can add up to humungous, gigantic, insurmountable accomplishments.     

Fat Suit Episode 2

Fat suit

Episode 2:

Good Morning Doctor

 I used to dread going to the doctor.  I know many people do.  But, I DREAD it!  I will give you a run down on how 85% of my visits to the doctor would go. 

                After waiting my turn to be called, and having a non-descript individual run the normal checks while uttering orders in a non-descript voice, “Step on the scale”, “Sit there”, “Roll up your sleeve”, “under the tongue, please”, “oh, your blood pressure looks good”, “pulse is normal”, (scribbling on my chart) I would sit in the little examination room, and write poetry using the texting application on my cell phone, while I waited for the doctor. 

Let’s call him Dr. Gold today.

                Dr. Gold came into the room after a quick rap of his knuckles on the door.

                “Good, morning, and how are you today?”  he asked, glancing at me briefly and then referring back to the chart in his hands. 

                “I am good, thanks.  Just here for a check-up basically. I also need a well-women’s exam.  It’s been over a year,” I say.

                “Any history of diabetes, cancer, or heart disease in the family?”  he asked, mostly looking at my chart.  I don’t know why he asks me, it’s all there.

                “Yes, my mother had breast cancer seven years ago, two lumpectomy’s, she also had thyroid cancer, three years ago, had it removed.  My mother is diabetic, type two, and my father’s side has heart disease among the men,” Of course, I have answered these questions before.

                “We will have to get a mamagram done.  Your blood pressure looks great.  Never had any history of high blood pressure?”  Why would he ask me this, he just said it looked great.

                “Nope,” I respond.

                “And are you on any medication for arthritis or inflammation?  Like Celebrex or…”

                “Nope,” I say, though I know it’s not polite to interrupt.  He can see from my chart that I’m not on any, but I suppose some people go to more than one Doctor.  I suppose it was a valid question.

                Dr. Gold pulls his eyes away from my chart and looks at me.  “Aside from the well-woman exam, are there any other concerns you have that you want to discuss today?”

                “Well, I have been having some really intense mood swings and PMS.  I only mention it because my hormones have usually been pretty level most of my life,”

                “Well, I don’t want to alarm you, but you are overweight, and at your size it would be more difficult for your body to regulate your hormones,” 

                “Right,” I agree and he blinks at me.  “The women in my family, My Aunt, Grandmother, Mother, and Sisters all have had some signs of early menopause starting in their thirties, so I thought I should mention it,”

                “Well, I think if you lost, say, 50lbs, you may see a change in your hormone levels,” he responds.

                “Okay,” I smile.  “So women who are of average weight don’t have hormone imbalance issues?”  I ask, very curious.

                “Well, yes, they can.”  He looks at my chart again.  “But I think in your case let’s focus on losing some weight first.”

                “Okay.”  I smile.

                “Next time we come in…” (I’m not really sure why he keeps referring to me as “we”) “I would like to see at least a 15 lb weight loss,” he is speaking in a very gentle tone, and leans away from me as if he thinks I might burst into tears.  “I have some information here about nutrition that I will send home with you,” he continues, pulling a pamphlet from a plastic holder that is suctioned to the wall.  “I understand that it can be really difficult to lose weight, but if you lower your calorie intake and get some regular exercise you should be able to see a loss.”

                I wonder why he thinks I should lower my calorie intake when he doesn’t know what my calorie intake is.

                “Walking is a good way to start,” he says, “and swimming.  That is also a good one for beginners.” 

                “I swim every day,” I tell him.  “And I jog about 3 times a week.” Dr. Gold blinks and I move on.  “I was also wondering about another issue that I have been struggling with.  I sometimes get a headache after I exercise.  Could this be related to my Fibromyalgia?” 

                “People who are overweight are more susceptible to things like headaches,” he responds.

                “Okay, So, people who are not overweight don’t get headaches?”  I ask, politely.

                “Yes, they can, but I think in your case it probably stems from your weight problem.

                “Hmm, okay.”  I smile. 

                “So, I don’t want to treat you for the headache issue until you lose some weight first, kay?” he asked.

                “Yep,” I respond. 

                Dr. Gold writes on his clipboard and hands me two prescription slips and the pamphlet with a brightly colored picture of the standard food pyramid on the cover.  “Here is a prescription for an anti-inflammatory, which has to be taken with an over-the-counter acid reducer to prevent ulcers.  Then he walks out of the room.

                I look at the prescriptions in my hand.  One is for the treatment of arthritis pain and one is a narcotic, used to reduce pain, and as a sleep aid, both of which have a side-effect of weight gain. I leave the Doctors appointment and toss the prescriptions in the trash.  When it came to the issues I needed to address, they were equivolated to a symptom of my weight with no further investigation. Dr. Gold, like many doctors who look at my chart and see Fibromyalgia and also see my weight, decide that I need those things, that I am not active, and that I overeat. 

                 

I have had this very same experience many times.  I have been handed prescription pain killers that I didn’t ask for (and didn’t use) 8 times in my adult life, from a doctor.  I have been told by doctors that I am overweight, as if I didn’t know already.  One time a physician’s assistant held my hand, stroking the back of it, while she gently informed me that all of problems in life would just go away as soon as I got my weight under control. I don’t know what world she was living in.  I am waiting for the day when I go to the ER with injuries from a car crash and they tell me that nothing is really wrong, I just need to lose weight.

Blowing Steam

Eeeewe! 

I have sweat running down my chest between my breasts.  Not the most comfortable feeling., and very unfamiliar.  I am usually not much of a sweater.  Well, I sweat a little, but never this drops-rolling-from-my-temples kind of sweat.  As a bi-product of having fibromyalgia my body does not usually respond in the normal and healthy way to many normal and healthy experiences.  I can get dizzy sitting in a chair.  I can jog/walk for two hours and not sweat.  I can be shivering in 70 degree weather, and also feel like I’m roasting in 70 degree weather.  I drop things constantly and for no apparent reason.  The repetitive motion of vacuuming puts me into a painful flare-up (where nerves are over-reacting and inflame the muscles and joints, causing pain and exhaustion).  I wake up at least one day a week with a migraine.  I have learned how to type with numb hands.    

But, today I am sweating, like a normal person should after a jog.  J I take it as a good sign, even though it’s gross.

 I have been feeling just a little bit down lately.  A little blue.  I think it is a symptom of being so overwhelmed the past many months.  My days were filled beyond the brim and spilling over, with house-hunting, moving, planning the wedding, starting my son in a new school, worrying about a smooth transition, getting married, and all the other things that need to be tended to.  Now, I don’t have all of that pulling on me and keeping me motivated.  Life is relatively calm.  What do I do with myself when there are no fires to prevent or put out?  I should enjoy it, right?  I should relax. 

Ha!

It is harder than it sounds.

Since I have been feeling blue and unmotivated, I have not taken care of myself as well as I should.  Which is also a reason that I may be feeling low.  It is one of those vicious cycles.  

I forced myself to put on my running clothes today.  It was torturous.  I forced myself to put on my tennis shoes.  I forced myself to leash Daisy.  I forced myself to go out the door.  Once I was out, the rest was easy.  I made sure not to stop after passing the doorjamb.  I barely shut the door behind me, and I just propelled myself forward, first at a long-stride walk. 

In my new neighborhood, I have not yet discovered a favorite route to take.  I have not yet found my “sweet spot” where I feel most comfortable running.  Instead I just scare my neighbors into shutting their blinds while I run around the subdivision, huffing and puffing like a steam engine.   

Toot! Toot!