CRAP! I have too many blogs. I just posted this to Quasi Hippie, had to delete it because it has GB stuff in it and post it here. JA HEEZ! It does have lots of good Quasi-type stuff in it though...
So I am looking at alternatives to sugar as a canning additive in fruit and I've come up nil. Since sugar is not a preservative, it is not necessary to put it in with your fruit when canning; however, the end result is soggy nasty-flavored mush. I good replacement is SPLENDA for a low cal alternative, but I'm allergic, so its out. I was thinking raw honey would be a flavorful alternative and it can be done, even giving your fruit a earthy flavor, kind of like tea, but it really doesn't help you in terms of calories. So, I guess when canning, its best to just use the least amount of sugar as you can. for fruit in syrup, go with the directions for light syrup and you can cut the calories down to 77 calories per serving. For jams and jellies, you can buy pectin that is made for low sugar recipes at the heath food store, but I warn you, each box of pectin only does 1 batch-not 3 like the box says and each box is 5.00 as opposed to the 1.00 old fashioned, fatty pectin. Meh. Remember though, apples have their own pectin, so you can make some pretty fun apple butter with just enough sweetener to take the edge off. Like I said last post, make your apple butter with bee balm blossoms and let it sit. The bee balm is kind of spicy/minty and adds a little something to the butter. You can also add it to smoothies with apples or peaches. If you happen to have it growing wild and you want to use it fresh, it does juice and is kind of good that way too. Play with it and keep the sugar to a minimum.
Today I bought some ginger root and will be making smoothies out of peaches with the ginger. Ginger, FYI, is really good for digestion and stomach ailments. I consider my stomach sliced and sutured a slight ailment, so maybe ginger would be soothing. My little magic bullet happened to come with these little cups for relish or something, but they seem to be the perfect size for post surgery smoothies. You can throw a cube of soft tofu in for added protein, or if you have your own hens, a raw egg too. Don't do raw eggs from a store. You don't know where they have been.
Anyway, since canning may be a big fail, I think I'm going to focus on freezing my fruit and veggies to stick with the organic and no added sugar. Maybe I can make some fruit leather for when I can advance my diet a little bit, but I have a really big chest freezer with LOTS of room for fruit and veggies. Anyhoo, thats what I'm doing today. Tasting smoothies.
I noticed there was quite the crop of red clover on the side of a back road on the way home today and I picked the nicest heads in hopes of drying 1 more quart jar full. I discovered steeping a tea from the blossom heads can ease irritability, regulate your cycle and also helps with menopausal symptoms. I am hooking my intra-menopausal/endometriotic sister UP! I do this for you Nobby, because I love you and because you make me want to eat my own toenails. I should hope you would go out and discover similar natural miracles for me when I'm pushing the downhill button at your age. Muah.
Next year, I am talking you all into nettle smoothies. You will love them.
Lastly,
On the GB movie from the hospital, they say they will be feeding me Crystal Light. At first I wasn't really worried about it, but I have cut diet Pepsi out of my diet completely and have not drank anything but water as a beverage for a few weeks and my complexion has cleared up considerably. My husband, ever the enabler, brought me home a can of diet Pepsi as a treat the other day. I drank it and my arms are covered with red itchy splotches. All this time, I thought only Splenda was my enemy. When I get into that, I get HIVES and my ears swell up. I thought the psoriasis on my arms was inevitable, but now I wonder, Aspertime might be bad too. That being said-I don't want Crystal Light! Rut roh. I am bringing my Crystal Light collection to group. Anyone interested can have it.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Back.
I'm BAAAAAACK. I know...oh and as promised, Krystal, this post is for you my homie.
This is what I did today. Down the road from me about a mile is this fantastic Winchestershire apple tree. wait, is Winchestershire a real apple name or something my dad made up? Hold on. I'll ask the Google gods...
*time lapse*
Yeah. He was just naming them something romantic so we would eat them. Okay...I'll call them Heirloom apples, since they are most likely a leftover from a homestead located there at some point in time. Anyhow, its fantastic and since my own apple trees are a bit manic depressive this year (my greening had an unfortunate suicide attempt last summer and is still in ICU), I'm needing to shop in the ditches for my apples. Okay, so I go to pick these fantastic apples (did I mention how fantastic they were?) and came home, peeled 2 and put them in the blender with some bee balm and a tablespoon of honey. YAY! It was good and aside from the honey (my hippie princess friend lost all her honey bees to mice last winter), it was free and organic!!!
1 Tablespoon honey = 64 calories
2 small wild apples = 120 calories
1 bee balm blossom = 0 calories
_________________________
My carnivore hubby will be having pork chops slow cooked in this apple sauce. We will see how well it goes over with him. He tolerates my ditch cuisine pretty well. If its good, maybe he won't freak out too much when I tell him I REALLY want to take that online holistic healing class this winter...its ONLY $1600.00. That is less than the roof is going to cost. If things get too ugly, I can bring up the air conditioning reclaim machine thing he spent most of last year paying for.
I owe my soul to the Snap-On guy by the way. It was the only way I could keep my first born without having to guess his name.
So, as discussed in group-omg I'm almost done!!!-I need to focus on eating little tiny bits several times a day instead of waiting until I am hypoglycemic before I eat something. Also, my water intake is pitiful. While I can honestly say I have thrown soda out the virtual window of my uber-healthy temple, coffee is my love. Oh I love coffee. My only saving grace is the fact that I am a hard-core coffee snob that will only partake in 1 or 2 cups per day IF it is decent. I am not an off-the-wal-mart-shelf coffee drinker. If I wanted to drink pissy mud, I would harvest it for free from the cow yard. No, I pay for super fresh coffee that has never seen the inside of a freezer or the inside of a supermarket for that matter. It is not marred by thick, over pasteurized cream or flavored with synthetic waxy chocolates and high-fructose corn syrup. Its just really good, flavorful, fresh coffee. Every once in a while I will throw some mulling spice or some organic chai in the basket for flavor...mmmmm. I friggin' love coffee. I do have a coffee pot that can brew 1 cup at a time, so I can limit myself that way and I can make a point to only partake once a week. It's not something I can't say no to, its just something I really enjoy and I don't want to say no until I absolutely have to.
So, I made my excuse. I'm aware of it and today I focused on hydration and nibbling. Aside from having to pee allot...Nope. That's it. I pee alot.
Another concern. My Strattera gives me instant heartburn. When my stomach is tiny, I'm afraid I will just burst into flame because there will be no room for heartburn. I will skip heartburn and spontaneously combust. Wow. What a grease fire that will be...I may need to discuss this with my doctor. The Strattera problem--not so much the grease fire. I wonder if he will suggest living retarded for a few months to give my stomach a chance to heal before swallowing pills again. Hmmmmm. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
This is what I did today. Down the road from me about a mile is this fantastic Winchestershire apple tree. wait, is Winchestershire a real apple name or something my dad made up? Hold on. I'll ask the Google gods...
*time lapse*
Yeah. He was just naming them something romantic so we would eat them. Okay...I'll call them Heirloom apples, since they are most likely a leftover from a homestead located there at some point in time. Anyhow, its fantastic and since my own apple trees are a bit manic depressive this year (my greening had an unfortunate suicide attempt last summer and is still in ICU), I'm needing to shop in the ditches for my apples. Okay, so I go to pick these fantastic apples (did I mention how fantastic they were?) and came home, peeled 2 and put them in the blender with some bee balm and a tablespoon of honey. YAY! It was good and aside from the honey (my hippie princess friend lost all her honey bees to mice last winter), it was free and organic!!!
1 Tablespoon honey = 64 calories
2 small wild apples = 120 calories
1 bee balm blossom = 0 calories
_________________________
My carnivore hubby will be having pork chops slow cooked in this apple sauce. We will see how well it goes over with him. He tolerates my ditch cuisine pretty well. If its good, maybe he won't freak out too much when I tell him I REALLY want to take that online holistic healing class this winter...its ONLY $1600.00. That is less than the roof is going to cost. If things get too ugly, I can bring up the air conditioning reclaim machine thing he spent most of last year paying for.
I owe my soul to the Snap-On guy by the way. It was the only way I could keep my first born without having to guess his name.
So, as discussed in group-omg I'm almost done!!!-I need to focus on eating little tiny bits several times a day instead of waiting until I am hypoglycemic before I eat something. Also, my water intake is pitiful. While I can honestly say I have thrown soda out the virtual window of my uber-healthy temple, coffee is my love. Oh I love coffee. My only saving grace is the fact that I am a hard-core coffee snob that will only partake in 1 or 2 cups per day IF it is decent. I am not an off-the-wal-mart-shelf coffee drinker. If I wanted to drink pissy mud, I would harvest it for free from the cow yard. No, I pay for super fresh coffee that has never seen the inside of a freezer or the inside of a supermarket for that matter. It is not marred by thick, over pasteurized cream or flavored with synthetic waxy chocolates and high-fructose corn syrup. Its just really good, flavorful, fresh coffee. Every once in a while I will throw some mulling spice or some organic chai in the basket for flavor...mmmmm. I friggin' love coffee. I do have a coffee pot that can brew 1 cup at a time, so I can limit myself that way and I can make a point to only partake once a week. It's not something I can't say no to, its just something I really enjoy and I don't want to say no until I absolutely have to.
So, I made my excuse. I'm aware of it and today I focused on hydration and nibbling. Aside from having to pee allot...Nope. That's it. I pee alot.
Another concern. My Strattera gives me instant heartburn. When my stomach is tiny, I'm afraid I will just burst into flame because there will be no room for heartburn. I will skip heartburn and spontaneously combust. Wow. What a grease fire that will be...I may need to discuss this with my doctor. The Strattera problem--not so much the grease fire. I wonder if he will suggest living retarded for a few months to give my stomach a chance to heal before swallowing pills again. Hmmmmm. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Lay it on out there
Firstly, I am riddled with an extreme amount of stress right now that I do not wish to discuss via blogger. Let it be known that it is stressful stress of the most extreme and frankly, I don't have much to say in the way of my blog because my stress happens to be the only think on my mind at the moment.
What I will share is the fact that I went in to see Dr. Setla and had the best labs on the planet. Unfortunately, going to see her was the wrong thing to do and I was told that I will have to see her again anyway, so my efforts were in vain. Also, I missed a phantom appointment in April and now have to see my dietitian when I can instead of having had seen her when I should have and therefore I am screwed on my surgery date being within the year. Big yip. Another thing to worry excessively about.
Thirdly, I am not going to pretend that I am never going to eat another French fry, hamburger or piece of chocolate cake for as long as I live. This is unrealistic. The point of the Learn program is to teach you how to make responsible choices. There is nowhere in that book that says chocolate will never pass over your lips again. My husband is not a big supporter in terms of eating well with me. He chews tobacco, drinks 6 liters of mountain dew a day and eats at Culvers. For your information, I had 4 pieces of shrimp, a couple of fries and did not eat any of the sides. The rest went to my dog. In the old days I would have eaten all of my meal, plus whatever was left from the kids. BACK OFF. I am doing wonderfully and am very proud of the fact that I am not eating like I was and have not eaten like I was for 2 months now. To assume that I can never go into a Culvers with my husband on occasion because of my surgery is narrow. Not to mention the fact that I am able to do this with all the shit hanging over my head makes it clear that I will be fine after my surgery and the fact that I am going to my classes every Wednesday night, no matter how depressed, sad or upset I am, tells me that I am committed and will be successful. That being said, I don't feel like typing about anything fun or wonderful because I am dealing with a whole pile of stuff right now and I am embarrassed enough that there is no way in hell I am putting it up on a public forum for the world to see what a big fat screw up I am. There. I posted. Happy?
Maybe if I get this Labor day weekend out of the way I can have more time to update my blogs. I need to paint.
What I will share is the fact that I went in to see Dr. Setla and had the best labs on the planet. Unfortunately, going to see her was the wrong thing to do and I was told that I will have to see her again anyway, so my efforts were in vain. Also, I missed a phantom appointment in April and now have to see my dietitian when I can instead of having had seen her when I should have and therefore I am screwed on my surgery date being within the year. Big yip. Another thing to worry excessively about.
Thirdly, I am not going to pretend that I am never going to eat another French fry, hamburger or piece of chocolate cake for as long as I live. This is unrealistic. The point of the Learn program is to teach you how to make responsible choices. There is nowhere in that book that says chocolate will never pass over your lips again. My husband is not a big supporter in terms of eating well with me. He chews tobacco, drinks 6 liters of mountain dew a day and eats at Culvers. For your information, I had 4 pieces of shrimp, a couple of fries and did not eat any of the sides. The rest went to my dog. In the old days I would have eaten all of my meal, plus whatever was left from the kids. BACK OFF. I am doing wonderfully and am very proud of the fact that I am not eating like I was and have not eaten like I was for 2 months now. To assume that I can never go into a Culvers with my husband on occasion because of my surgery is narrow. Not to mention the fact that I am able to do this with all the shit hanging over my head makes it clear that I will be fine after my surgery and the fact that I am going to my classes every Wednesday night, no matter how depressed, sad or upset I am, tells me that I am committed and will be successful. That being said, I don't feel like typing about anything fun or wonderful because I am dealing with a whole pile of stuff right now and I am embarrassed enough that there is no way in hell I am putting it up on a public forum for the world to see what a big fat screw up I am. There. I posted. Happy?
Maybe if I get this Labor day weekend out of the way I can have more time to update my blogs. I need to paint.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Today.
“I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some bline, random disaster, or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of death from being a total surprise.”
- Chuck Palahniuk
- Chuck Palahniuk
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Won the lottery
Holy crap you guys!!! I called today to get a coveted appointment with Dr. Setla and I go next week!! Thursday Aug 26 is wide open so call NOW! NOW! NOW!!!
The end. :)
The end. :)
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Week 6? 7?
I am the biggest crybaby...my GOD! I totally lost it today in group while talking about Melinda, I never thought about how my past self follows me still. Little embarrassments, gestures and looks can cling to you for years and years. All those things I thought I left behind all come back and slap me in the face. Stupid way to think. We have grown up after all. Is she really a stuck up priss baby like she once was? The whoop-Dee-do cheerleader has a job that is supposed to be helping others. I can't help but wonder if she is truly compassionate, or on a mission to weed the permanent fatties out of the lifers, or is it a great paycheck? here I am, at the most fail point in my life having to face the one personality type that I always wanted to prove I was stronger and better than. Instead of being stronger and better I'm helpless and judged and with it I judge. I can't stand me right now, especially since I pride myself in not being a hater or a judge, which should include not judging the so-called judger. Shit. Instead of coming to terms, I bawl about it and am no closer to an understanding than I was before the conversation started.
Having to face Melinda is like admitting to all the high school haters that I failed and now I have to take the last resort of surgery because I am too weak and too stubborn to do it on my own. I still struggle with the thought that I am taking the easy way out of this fat thing. The thing is, Melinda wasn't exactly mean. She was...prissy. An eye roller, whisperer, a giggler. I'll be 90 and still see her whispering and giggling. Maybe because I'm immature, maybe I'm the one with the problem, maybe I'm overly sensitive, maybe I'm human.
The thing is, having to see Melinda is the only thing that makes this surgery something for me to think twice about. In every other respect, I am so happy and excited, then I think about having to contact Melinda again and I feel like such a failure when I should be telling myself that I deserve to be happy just like she is, I deserve to have help and I am willing and able to put in the effort, which makes this, in all reality NOT an easy out.
Ahhhh, what can I say? Hand me the friggin tissues, I'm gonna whine about the Melinda's until I'm done.
In other news, I got me a new drill/flashlight kit with my crap-I-did-not-eat money AND and new pair of super sex-on-a-rock welding gloves. I'm a bit ashamed to say that I would have eaten 40$ worth of garbage this week had I not made a point to divert my money to other things. On the other hand, how many calories is in 40$ not consumed this week!? Its the little things people, lay off my sun beam :)
Here's a trippy moment. I went to my sisters house this afternoon after going to Hope Gospel Mission's super awesome sales event!!! She loves chickens and she has bratty kids that complain about her chicken-theme kitchen. Her bratty kids are ages 21-25, plenty old enough to get the hell out and decorate their own places with glow-in-the-dark penises if they want to; therefore, I grab chicken items for her once every couple weeks to simultaneously feed her addiction and irritate her brats. Anyway, I got this chicken candle thing with a chicken lamp shade from HGM and stopped over to deliver it and stick out my tongue at my nieces, when Nobby brought out the LTD Christmas catalog fishing for ideas. What idea did she have for MY Christmas present? A huge collection of gourmet coffee/coco and chocolates. I just looked at her and smiled. "Um. No? I may have my surgery by that time. I need socks or something."
"But its coffee and hot chocolate."
Uhhhhh...yeah?
"But it's Christmas for the love of GOD!"
Yeah...How bout some socks? A magic bullet? Pots and pans? A movie? Jumper cables! A puppy! Linoleum for my kitchen, throw rugs, a mug, a blanket, foot warmies! A bench vice, a snuggie, beads, a new fish pole, a big brick of batteries, yarn, crochet hooks, plexi glass, a canning set, a scarf, new pillows...I can go on and on and yet, she always manages to get me coffee and chocolate at some point.
I did remind her that I may very well be sitting at the table drinking Ensure this year and I am totally, beyond a shadow of a doubt OK with that. I wonder if she hasn't really let it sink in that I am doing this. She has not been supportive or negative. She is my neutral subject. I see now, she just chose to ignore it.
I hope I get a puppy.
Having to face Melinda is like admitting to all the high school haters that I failed and now I have to take the last resort of surgery because I am too weak and too stubborn to do it on my own. I still struggle with the thought that I am taking the easy way out of this fat thing. The thing is, Melinda wasn't exactly mean. She was...prissy. An eye roller, whisperer, a giggler. I'll be 90 and still see her whispering and giggling. Maybe because I'm immature, maybe I'm the one with the problem, maybe I'm overly sensitive, maybe I'm human.
The thing is, having to see Melinda is the only thing that makes this surgery something for me to think twice about. In every other respect, I am so happy and excited, then I think about having to contact Melinda again and I feel like such a failure when I should be telling myself that I deserve to be happy just like she is, I deserve to have help and I am willing and able to put in the effort, which makes this, in all reality NOT an easy out.
Ahhhh, what can I say? Hand me the friggin tissues, I'm gonna whine about the Melinda's until I'm done.
In other news, I got me a new drill/flashlight kit with my crap-I-did-not-eat money AND and new pair of super sex-on-a-rock welding gloves. I'm a bit ashamed to say that I would have eaten 40$ worth of garbage this week had I not made a point to divert my money to other things. On the other hand, how many calories is in 40$ not consumed this week!? Its the little things people, lay off my sun beam :)
Here's a trippy moment. I went to my sisters house this afternoon after going to Hope Gospel Mission's super awesome sales event!!! She loves chickens and she has bratty kids that complain about her chicken-theme kitchen. Her bratty kids are ages 21-25, plenty old enough to get the hell out and decorate their own places with glow-in-the-dark penises if they want to; therefore, I grab chicken items for her once every couple weeks to simultaneously feed her addiction and irritate her brats. Anyway, I got this chicken candle thing with a chicken lamp shade from HGM and stopped over to deliver it and stick out my tongue at my nieces, when Nobby brought out the LTD Christmas catalog fishing for ideas. What idea did she have for MY Christmas present? A huge collection of gourmet coffee/coco and chocolates. I just looked at her and smiled. "Um. No? I may have my surgery by that time. I need socks or something."
"But its coffee and hot chocolate."
Uhhhhh...yeah?
"But it's Christmas for the love of GOD!"
Yeah...How bout some socks? A magic bullet? Pots and pans? A movie? Jumper cables! A puppy! Linoleum for my kitchen, throw rugs, a mug, a blanket, foot warmies! A bench vice, a snuggie, beads, a new fish pole, a big brick of batteries, yarn, crochet hooks, plexi glass, a canning set, a scarf, new pillows...I can go on and on and yet, she always manages to get me coffee and chocolate at some point.
I did remind her that I may very well be sitting at the table drinking Ensure this year and I am totally, beyond a shadow of a doubt OK with that. I wonder if she hasn't really let it sink in that I am doing this. She has not been supportive or negative. She is my neutral subject. I see now, she just chose to ignore it.
I hope I get a puppy.
Friday, August 13, 2010
White chicken chili
Yeah! I don't know how it will go, but it should be lighter and brighter anyway...besides, chicken boobies are freekin good. I wonder if I should write down recipes here for everyone to use??
Here is something I have learned:
-after you get done shopping, cut up all your veggies and fruit so all you have to do is reach in and grab what you want without a lot of mess. Boil or steam a whole package of chicken breasts, then cut them into strips for salads, soup, etc. Tupperware has these veggie keeper things with vents. I can't tell you how much they were. I got mine for being a Tupperware whore way back when. This was before I discovered rubber maid disposables (after a good amount of reuse). Who knew!? PFT! Oh, and prepare your dry beans ahead of time for vegan dishes (lentils, chick peas, beans). Don't buy canned, too much salt and so much cheaper to buy a big bag full...
Sandie!!! I'm glad you came and commented! Thank you for telling your story! I can't imagine how hard it is dealing with all your stuff. I absolutely understand why you want to go through the program. Isn't it funny how we all have our stories. It makes me wonder why there are some people that find it so hard to judge others without ever knowing the whole story. There is so much more to us than a cupcake addiction, or anxiety triggered chocolate gluttony. I'm so glad you shared. It's nice to know there are more people out there willing to help carry the load. Oh, and there is a natural herbal treatment for RA that is perfectly safe for anyone to try. Burning nettle is thought to be an natural anti inflammatory and a cup of tea a day is good for RA. I would hook you up, but you are supposed to pick the nettle in may and early June. They are seeding now and the ones by my house are all covered with bugs :(. I have friends though that cut and use nettle all year round. You can cook with it, make drinks from it, make dye, hair rinse, it aids in making cheese, all kinds of stuff. You can buy extract from botanical.com and use that until it comes in season again, though I have no idea how much that costs. I've been trying to get my mechanic hubby and his engineer best friend to get together and make me a still so I can make my own distilled extracts, but they drag their feet---pft. MEN. I plan on trying it myself since RA runs in my family too as we get older. My dad sufferers from it really bad. It would be interesting to see if the sting of nettle on the skin would help RA like bee sting therapy does...Have you heard of bee sting therapy? It's really inter sting. It seems that there have been people who suffered from horrible RA, being stung multiple times by bees (like an attack) and the venom from the stings actually killed and cured the RA! Amazing! Right now, you can go in and get stung by bees in a controlled hospital environment, but I think it would be really awesome if they could figure out a way to isolate the *whatever* that makes the RA go away in an IV or injectable form...Oh hell, got me started and I'm all in the wrong blog even!
Anyway, I'm glad your here. Thank you for seeing me. Stay in touch so we can keep up on each other's progress! Aren't you going to school for law enforcement? Man, I got arrested for an overdue library book once...had to sit in a jail cell and everything...I need to tell you that story in an email once...
Here is something I have learned:
-after you get done shopping, cut up all your veggies and fruit so all you have to do is reach in and grab what you want without a lot of mess. Boil or steam a whole package of chicken breasts, then cut them into strips for salads, soup, etc. Tupperware has these veggie keeper things with vents. I can't tell you how much they were. I got mine for being a Tupperware whore way back when. This was before I discovered rubber maid disposables (after a good amount of reuse). Who knew!? PFT! Oh, and prepare your dry beans ahead of time for vegan dishes (lentils, chick peas, beans). Don't buy canned, too much salt and so much cheaper to buy a big bag full...
Sandie!!! I'm glad you came and commented! Thank you for telling your story! I can't imagine how hard it is dealing with all your stuff. I absolutely understand why you want to go through the program. Isn't it funny how we all have our stories. It makes me wonder why there are some people that find it so hard to judge others without ever knowing the whole story. There is so much more to us than a cupcake addiction, or anxiety triggered chocolate gluttony. I'm so glad you shared. It's nice to know there are more people out there willing to help carry the load. Oh, and there is a natural herbal treatment for RA that is perfectly safe for anyone to try. Burning nettle is thought to be an natural anti inflammatory and a cup of tea a day is good for RA. I would hook you up, but you are supposed to pick the nettle in may and early June. They are seeding now and the ones by my house are all covered with bugs :(. I have friends though that cut and use nettle all year round. You can cook with it, make drinks from it, make dye, hair rinse, it aids in making cheese, all kinds of stuff. You can buy extract from botanical.com and use that until it comes in season again, though I have no idea how much that costs. I've been trying to get my mechanic hubby and his engineer best friend to get together and make me a still so I can make my own distilled extracts, but they drag their feet---pft. MEN. I plan on trying it myself since RA runs in my family too as we get older. My dad sufferers from it really bad. It would be interesting to see if the sting of nettle on the skin would help RA like bee sting therapy does...Have you heard of bee sting therapy? It's really inter sting. It seems that there have been people who suffered from horrible RA, being stung multiple times by bees (like an attack) and the venom from the stings actually killed and cured the RA! Amazing! Right now, you can go in and get stung by bees in a controlled hospital environment, but I think it would be really awesome if they could figure out a way to isolate the *whatever* that makes the RA go away in an IV or injectable form...Oh hell, got me started and I'm all in the wrong blog even!
Anyway, I'm glad your here. Thank you for seeing me. Stay in touch so we can keep up on each other's progress! Aren't you going to school for law enforcement? Man, I got arrested for an overdue library book once...had to sit in a jail cell and everything...I need to tell you that story in an email once...
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Week 6
I wonder if anyone else in group is threatened by the upside down-mouth looks our 2 group leads give each other when we talk? What does that mean? Is that Hmmmmmm -good answer or Hmmmmmm -fail? Maybe it means Hmmmmmm lets freak the insecure chick out by giving each other that knowing look and nodding...
I'd love to know what she is writing down.
Today there was very few of us in the room. A couple newbies. All in all, there are 2 ladies who are not sure if they want to go through with the surgery or not. I suppose if there is a true mortal fear or a fear of possible side effects I might be a little apprehensive; though, I wonder why anyone would come this far into the discussion only to turn away from it after all the weeks and talks and appointments that go along even considering the surgery.
To me there is no question, no fear. I'm not sure if having no fear at all is a good thing, but I really have none. I can't see myself being afraid of losing weight, feeling better, living out my life healthier and happier with less reserve, trying new things, exploring, having the energy and will to try new things and explore. On the other hand I'm also not afraid of the possible side effects, the dumping, vomiting, hair loss, possible infection. Probably because I have a certain amount of control over the latter. Undertaking major surgery and dying? Also not a real concern. I am a firm believer in God and I know that if he is ready for me to come home, I'll get there whatever way he wants me to get there. I have true peace in that regard. I have no real reason to be afraid of anything. If I have to be afraid, I guess I am afraid of not passing the "test" that all these specialists and counselors are putting me through. I'm afraid that one of them will say that I'm not ready. The through of that happening makes tears well up in my eyes. If I'm afraid of anything, I am afraid of being told I have failed once again.
Oh, my snacking money idea paid off. Today I had $12.00 put away that would have been spent on candy bars or bags of chips normally. I bought two 12-foot lengths of round stock (for my welding projects) and shampoo, bath soap and a new bath mitt (necessities for myself that I needed, but would not have the money for today if I had spent my money on pop and snacks this week).
YAY!
I had mentioned in group today that I had invested in a juicer for after surgery when everything needs to be soft. I thought especially, it would be a good idea for fiber-veggies- to help break them down and discourage things like that from getting stuck. Our group lead told me to start using it now. I wonder why? To find out what I like and what I don't? After all, after surgery is when you learn what you will tolerate and what you wont. After surgery is when you experiment with your new foods and new stomach to test the proverbial waters of eating...why would it make a difference now? I may need to reflect. Any of my hommies from group that have some input, I will most definitely take it. Leave a comment as a guest. Possibly I missed something that should be common sense? Hmmmmm *upside down mouth*...
Oh, the link to my personal blog is: http://thequasihippie.blogspot.com/ For some reason I thought quasi was spelled with a z today. Meh, she's a tard.
I'd love to know what she is writing down.
Today there was very few of us in the room. A couple newbies. All in all, there are 2 ladies who are not sure if they want to go through with the surgery or not. I suppose if there is a true mortal fear or a fear of possible side effects I might be a little apprehensive; though, I wonder why anyone would come this far into the discussion only to turn away from it after all the weeks and talks and appointments that go along even considering the surgery.
To me there is no question, no fear. I'm not sure if having no fear at all is a good thing, but I really have none. I can't see myself being afraid of losing weight, feeling better, living out my life healthier and happier with less reserve, trying new things, exploring, having the energy and will to try new things and explore. On the other hand I'm also not afraid of the possible side effects, the dumping, vomiting, hair loss, possible infection. Probably because I have a certain amount of control over the latter. Undertaking major surgery and dying? Also not a real concern. I am a firm believer in God and I know that if he is ready for me to come home, I'll get there whatever way he wants me to get there. I have true peace in that regard. I have no real reason to be afraid of anything. If I have to be afraid, I guess I am afraid of not passing the "test" that all these specialists and counselors are putting me through. I'm afraid that one of them will say that I'm not ready. The through of that happening makes tears well up in my eyes. If I'm afraid of anything, I am afraid of being told I have failed once again.
Oh, my snacking money idea paid off. Today I had $12.00 put away that would have been spent on candy bars or bags of chips normally. I bought two 12-foot lengths of round stock (for my welding projects) and shampoo, bath soap and a new bath mitt (necessities for myself that I needed, but would not have the money for today if I had spent my money on pop and snacks this week).
YAY!
I had mentioned in group today that I had invested in a juicer for after surgery when everything needs to be soft. I thought especially, it would be a good idea for fiber-veggies- to help break them down and discourage things like that from getting stuck. Our group lead told me to start using it now. I wonder why? To find out what I like and what I don't? After all, after surgery is when you learn what you will tolerate and what you wont. After surgery is when you experiment with your new foods and new stomach to test the proverbial waters of eating...why would it make a difference now? I may need to reflect. Any of my hommies from group that have some input, I will most definitely take it. Leave a comment as a guest. Possibly I missed something that should be common sense? Hmmmmm *upside down mouth*...
Oh, the link to my personal blog is: http://thequasihippie.blogspot.com/ For some reason I thought quasi was spelled with a z today. Meh, she's a tard.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Week 5
I think I gained a few readers today while in group. I kind of wanted to say this in group, but it's really hard to get to know and have a conversation with people in 45 minutes. I just wanted to make it clear that all my readers are welcome here, but I need to make it very clear that this is my personal space. This is where I get to vent on myself, my consumables, dig into my innermost psyche and whine on occasion. I've come a long way and there is way more to my life than what is found here. Some of it surfaces in my rants, but unless you really know where I am coming from, I don't expect anyone to really get it. So, if you think I'm a whiny punk, just remember that I have lived in this body my whole life. If I want to cry about it, I have a reason and a right. This is why there are only a few of you I have allowed in, because we all happen to be traveling down the same road at the moment and its cool to have friends...Onward.
Dear General Mills;
Recently, I have made it a personal goal of mine to have a successful gastric bypass surgery and from there, work on bettering my body and my life for the sake of my health and overall quality of life. That being said, I was surprised when once again, you have found a way to torture my very soul with yet another improvement on your already perfect snacking system-the Bugle. Frankly, I was unaware that this was possible until I held the shiny plastic bag of freeking deliciousness in my eyes. Since this was GB group today, I could not throw caution to the wind and get a bag. One must always behave on GB group day. I glared at the bag a full 2 seconds before snatching my stupid, tasteless, no fun snack of pretzels off the rack. I silently flipped you the bird on my way to the counter with my healthy snack, riddled with pissed-offiness.
So, thank you General Mills, for making my journey that much rockier. Thank you so much for your incessant desire for money, that you cannot foresee the angry fat chick that passed up your sensual treat today, to offer her a fat free version of the same damn snack. Suck my big toe General Mills.
Love,
Jessie
I suppose you are wondering if I did finally buy the bugles. Yes. On the way home, I went through Wheeler and got a bag, but did not open it. When I got home, I gathered my husband and children around me and we all sampled the bugles. I had 3 before I walked away leaving the bag to my skinny husband, his skinny best friend and my skinny kids. Oddly, I feel less animosity after those 3 bugles. I didn't eat them all, so I don't feel guilty, but I did try them so now I'm enlightened that way...I don't have an overwhelming need to run out to the shop and steal them away so I can hide behind a stump someplace in the wilderness and eat them all. Three was good. I tried them. They were, indeed, freeking delicious. I still compare General Mills with Nazis, but I need to deal with Nazis as well.
Here is the thing, I have decided to use this as my personal goal for the rest of the week. Whenever I want to buy something stupid food-wise that I do not need to sustain myself, I will put that 2 dollars, 3 dollars-whatever in a jar. Next Wednesday, when I go to town for group, I will have money for a non-food treat, like fabric, welding wire, beads, yarn, VELCRO!!! It will be interesting how much money I will have. Maybe enough for that mini iron I've been wanting? Eeeek. I hope not. Kind of a sobering thought huh?
Group was great today. We learned a lot from each other and I have been around long enough that I am trying to make friends. My heart really went out to A. today. Our group lead pointed out that she always talks about her success in future tense, which I can relate to, but it seems that she really had not made many changes in her life thus far, but instead keeps thinking about how it is going to be instead of how it is now. She has not talked to all of her family yet, though her parents know that she is doing the surgery. I felt so bad for her and I wonder if it is more than the baking and farm living that holds her back. I grew up with a very controlling father. It seemed like my mom was too busy worrying about how to keep him quiet and happy, to really identify with us kids, though I assume her efforts kept us from getting the brunt end of his anger. My point is, she seems afraid to really bring her self out into the open and to really identify with what she is doing and I wish so much that I could give her some of my own confidence to stand up against the "what if." Strength to you A. This is your deal, not your brother's deal, not your parent's deal, YOUR DEAL. You stand up for you one time and you will see a difference. It took me the better part of 18 years to learn that everyone has a right to their own opinion, but mine is most important to myself. My opinion is what shapes me into a good or bad person. My opinion supports my good or bad decisions and I am the only one who can change my opinion. If it wasn't for my late sister and my amazing husband, I would probably still be taking care of everyone else but me. I hope you find your loud voice. Even a good loud "fuck you" in the middle of the woods where no one will hear you will make you feel better. I do that all the time and I think my trees are getting depressed about it. Sorry about that trees.
Oh, best exercise ever. We all had to stand in a circle and we each had to identify ourselves with something. Our sentence starter was, "When I feel fat I..." Our team lead said when she feels fat she feels like her breasts are ships and she made this parting-the-ocean movement. The next guy said, "when I feel fat I feel...and then she slumped his shoulders and got all lethargic looking. The next one said she felt fluffy, so we made a fluffy sign, got lethargic, had ship boobs, etc. It was totally a good time. I said I was a mountain. I thought of it because of a conversation my sister and I had about periods, not because thats really an accurate description of how I feel when I feel fat. The fact is, there are no group-friendly terms that describe how I feel when I feel fat and I'm not sure how it would go if we all had to swear like pirates when we repeated my description. Thus, I was a mountain. My sign was ^. Only bigger.
----------------------GIRLS ONLY. DO NOT CROSS LINE YUCKY BOYS-----------------------
OKay, I have to tell the story because its completely unrelated and thats how I roll. So my sister and I were on the phone talking about periods and I was complaining about how I once had the most WONDERFUL 3-day periods after I had Lucas and Rebecca, but how they all went to shit when I had Emma. NOW I have 3 days of major irritability. Like, that soap bubble pisses me off, stop breathing, don't talk to me, don't touch me-kind of irritable. My ankles swell like balloons and it hurts to walk because I think my skin is going to split open and I'm just generally really pissed off. Then-IT happens. This is when my sister said, "Yeah, Mount Rushmore!" I lost it. "You mean Niagara Falls? Or maybe you have presidents dropping out of your vagina every month--I don't want to know..." Then we laughed until we snorted and that comment has kept me going all day despite my "Mount Rushmore" problems. This is why I said, when I feel fat, I feel like a mountain. And now you have seen inside my head. Don't mind the mess.
Dear General Mills;
Recently, I have made it a personal goal of mine to have a successful gastric bypass surgery and from there, work on bettering my body and my life for the sake of my health and overall quality of life. That being said, I was surprised when once again, you have found a way to torture my very soul with yet another improvement on your already perfect snacking system-the Bugle. Frankly, I was unaware that this was possible until I held the shiny plastic bag of freeking deliciousness in my eyes. Since this was GB group today, I could not throw caution to the wind and get a bag. One must always behave on GB group day. I glared at the bag a full 2 seconds before snatching my stupid, tasteless, no fun snack of pretzels off the rack. I silently flipped you the bird on my way to the counter with my healthy snack, riddled with pissed-offiness.
So, thank you General Mills, for making my journey that much rockier. Thank you so much for your incessant desire for money, that you cannot foresee the angry fat chick that passed up your sensual treat today, to offer her a fat free version of the same damn snack. Suck my big toe General Mills.
Jessie
I suppose you are wondering if I did finally buy the bugles. Yes. On the way home, I went through Wheeler and got a bag, but did not open it. When I got home, I gathered my husband and children around me and we all sampled the bugles. I had 3 before I walked away leaving the bag to my skinny husband, his skinny best friend and my skinny kids. Oddly, I feel less animosity after those 3 bugles. I didn't eat them all, so I don't feel guilty, but I did try them so now I'm enlightened that way...I don't have an overwhelming need to run out to the shop and steal them away so I can hide behind a stump someplace in the wilderness and eat them all. Three was good. I tried them. They were, indeed, freeking delicious. I still compare General Mills with Nazis, but I need to deal with Nazis as well.
Here is the thing, I have decided to use this as my personal goal for the rest of the week. Whenever I want to buy something stupid food-wise that I do not need to sustain myself, I will put that 2 dollars, 3 dollars-whatever in a jar. Next Wednesday, when I go to town for group, I will have money for a non-food treat, like fabric, welding wire, beads, yarn, VELCRO!!! It will be interesting how much money I will have. Maybe enough for that mini iron I've been wanting? Eeeek. I hope not. Kind of a sobering thought huh?
Group was great today. We learned a lot from each other and I have been around long enough that I am trying to make friends. My heart really went out to A. today. Our group lead pointed out that she always talks about her success in future tense, which I can relate to, but it seems that she really had not made many changes in her life thus far, but instead keeps thinking about how it is going to be instead of how it is now. She has not talked to all of her family yet, though her parents know that she is doing the surgery. I felt so bad for her and I wonder if it is more than the baking and farm living that holds her back. I grew up with a very controlling father. It seemed like my mom was too busy worrying about how to keep him quiet and happy, to really identify with us kids, though I assume her efforts kept us from getting the brunt end of his anger. My point is, she seems afraid to really bring her self out into the open and to really identify with what she is doing and I wish so much that I could give her some of my own confidence to stand up against the "what if." Strength to you A. This is your deal, not your brother's deal, not your parent's deal, YOUR DEAL. You stand up for you one time and you will see a difference. It took me the better part of 18 years to learn that everyone has a right to their own opinion, but mine is most important to myself. My opinion is what shapes me into a good or bad person. My opinion supports my good or bad decisions and I am the only one who can change my opinion. If it wasn't for my late sister and my amazing husband, I would probably still be taking care of everyone else but me. I hope you find your loud voice. Even a good loud "fuck you" in the middle of the woods where no one will hear you will make you feel better. I do that all the time and I think my trees are getting depressed about it. Sorry about that trees.
Oh, best exercise ever. We all had to stand in a circle and we each had to identify ourselves with something. Our sentence starter was, "When I feel fat I..." Our team lead said when she feels fat she feels like her breasts are ships and she made this parting-the-ocean movement. The next guy said, "when I feel fat I feel...and then she slumped his shoulders and got all lethargic looking. The next one said she felt fluffy, so we made a fluffy sign, got lethargic, had ship boobs, etc. It was totally a good time. I said I was a mountain. I thought of it because of a conversation my sister and I had about periods, not because thats really an accurate description of how I feel when I feel fat. The fact is, there are no group-friendly terms that describe how I feel when I feel fat and I'm not sure how it would go if we all had to swear like pirates when we repeated my description. Thus, I was a mountain. My sign was ^. Only bigger.
----------------------GIRLS ONLY. DO NOT CROSS LINE YUCKY BOYS-----------------------
OKay, I have to tell the story because its completely unrelated and thats how I roll. So my sister and I were on the phone talking about periods and I was complaining about how I once had the most WONDERFUL 3-day periods after I had Lucas and Rebecca, but how they all went to shit when I had Emma. NOW I have 3 days of major irritability. Like, that soap bubble pisses me off, stop breathing, don't talk to me, don't touch me-kind of irritable. My ankles swell like balloons and it hurts to walk because I think my skin is going to split open and I'm just generally really pissed off. Then-IT happens. This is when my sister said, "Yeah, Mount Rushmore!" I lost it. "You mean Niagara Falls? Or maybe you have presidents dropping out of your vagina every month--I don't want to know..." Then we laughed until we snorted and that comment has kept me going all day despite my "Mount Rushmore" problems. This is why I said, when I feel fat, I feel like a mountain. And now you have seen inside my head. Don't mind the mess.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
A minor YAY moment.
YAY!
Here's the deal. I have been guilty these past few weeks of seeing something I want and just getting it. My attitude is enjoy it while you can, because in ??? months you will not have it again.
OKay. Yeah. I suck. I'm supposed to be all Richard Simmons with a twist of lime over here and instead I'm Rosanne Bahr. Here's the thing though. this whole week something super weird happened. I suggested going to Subway with a friend. Usually I would go to China Buffet. When I got there, without really having to think about it hard, I got my very first 6 inch sandwich. Not a foot long. Six inches. Instead of chips, I got yogurt. Instead of soda, I got water. SHUT UP! I KNOW!!! The weirdest part is, I didn't have to think about it much. It just happened, like I was possessed by Jenny Friggin' Craig!!!
But wait. There is more.
I was looking over my "Notepad of Guilt and Shame," which is a little note pad i sometimes have in my purse/pocket/van that I will write down-not everything I eat from day to day, but if I really screw up or do something noteworthy, I jot it down. I noticed that instead of bad notes, I did not have seconds on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday at supper time. Tonight I did because we ate brown rice and veggies. Come to think of it, I'm not really guilty over that since the chicken breasts, brown rice and veggies were all steamed, seasoned with fried rice flavoring and soy sauce. The calories were within the corral. Again, not much thought went into it.
Is this some kind of weird change? How come I'm not all whiny about having no chocolate today. After all, I am 3 days before Moon Time and for the next week, my children's breathing will irritate me. My Lucas got the hint as soon as I woke up with my "fat eyebrows," which is my crabby look evidently, and took all the kids outside to play while I sat and crafted alone. My hubby has taken cover in the bunker with his hidden stash of chocolate to throw at me should I decide to attack. The clock ticks. The only thing that will save everyone's life will be Lindors, coffee and a Midol overdose. Or will it? Ooooooooo.
I am so freaked out right now.
Here's the deal. I have been guilty these past few weeks of seeing something I want and just getting it. My attitude is enjoy it while you can, because in ??? months you will not have it again.
OKay. Yeah. I suck. I'm supposed to be all Richard Simmons with a twist of lime over here and instead I'm Rosanne Bahr. Here's the thing though. this whole week something super weird happened. I suggested going to Subway with a friend. Usually I would go to China Buffet. When I got there, without really having to think about it hard, I got my very first 6 inch sandwich. Not a foot long. Six inches. Instead of chips, I got yogurt. Instead of soda, I got water. SHUT UP! I KNOW!!! The weirdest part is, I didn't have to think about it much. It just happened, like I was possessed by Jenny Friggin' Craig!!!
But wait. There is more.
I was looking over my "Notepad of Guilt and Shame," which is a little note pad i sometimes have in my purse/pocket/van that I will write down-not everything I eat from day to day, but if I really screw up or do something noteworthy, I jot it down. I noticed that instead of bad notes, I did not have seconds on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday at supper time. Tonight I did because we ate brown rice and veggies. Come to think of it, I'm not really guilty over that since the chicken breasts, brown rice and veggies were all steamed, seasoned with fried rice flavoring and soy sauce. The calories were within the corral. Again, not much thought went into it.
Is this some kind of weird change? How come I'm not all whiny about having no chocolate today. After all, I am 3 days before Moon Time and for the next week, my children's breathing will irritate me. My Lucas got the hint as soon as I woke up with my "fat eyebrows," which is my crabby look evidently, and took all the kids outside to play while I sat and crafted alone. My hubby has taken cover in the bunker with his hidden stash of chocolate to throw at me should I decide to attack. The clock ticks. The only thing that will save everyone's life will be Lindors, coffee and a Midol overdose. Or will it? Ooooooooo.
I am so freaked out right now.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Group week 4
Today was kinda cool because a few people that had the surgery came in to answer questions. I have to admit, my biggest concern is the throwing up parts. Really, if it was guaranteed my whole life that food would make me sick if I ate it, I would not be having GB surgery. I hate throwing up more than anything and I can honestly recollect every stinking time I was sick as a kid kneeling in front of the toilet and praying with all my might to just stop the nausea. This being said, I am pretty sure I will be able to keep on track. 1 puke and I am done with that. I never was a good one for getting back on the horse once I fell off and got puke...I mean hurt. Nevertheless, we had to talk about challenges that we may foresee in ourselves postsurgury. My answer was clear. Exercise. I hate exercise. You get hot, you sweat, you stink, you get hives all over and puff up and itch, your face turns into hamburger (at least mine does-I think I'm allergic to exercise-NO LIE). I friggin hate exercise and right now, along with my old standby hates, my feet, back, legs hurt SO BAD. For every day I exercise, there is at least 3 days I can't move for the pain. I can only hope when the weight starts to come off, that part will be easier. Maybe the hives and itchy puffiness will get better too. On the other hand, I do have a friend who is thin and pretty all the time, who complains of the hives too. This might be a problem long term and I brought it up in group as such.
Anyway, 3 people came in and it worked out that there was a bad extreme, good extreme and an average patient. The bad extreme guy-we will call him Grumpy-he was very ill beforehand, still has a hard time keeping hydrated, can only eat a little at a time a year and a half later and he had a heart attack postsurgury. He made sure that we knew this was very abnormal and that without a doubt, he would go through the surgery again. He can move, do things, go places, sit in any chair, ride in small cars. The continued problems is something he chooses to deal with happily because that is just how it worked out for him.
The other extreme was extreme to the good-we can call her Happy- had very little soreness, nausea or problems after surgery. She was up and walking all over the day after surgery and has had a happy result overall. Would she do it again? Yep.
Then there was the average lady-she needs a cool handle. Um, how about Flatline? Flatline still has trouble keeping certain foods down, especially harder to digest stuff like meat. She stated she had to be aware of how things were prepared and how much she consumed. She too, had no problems with saying she would do it again.
We asked our questions. Mine of course consisted of, "Did you/do you throw up all the time?" The answer overall was that you kind of know what will and what will not go down. A lot of times you know before you even swallow. I associated it with morning sickness. I could put something in my mouth and chew it a second and know it was the wrong choice before it ever slid down my throat hole. Grumpy said he could eat about anything, just only a bite at a time though.
"Does exercise get easier/more fun?" Yes. They told me to make sure I had good shoes. We all know my thoughts on shoes and how they compromise the strength of your feet with their ugly ways; however, I do have a good pair of walking shoes I paid a pretty penny for. I use them and get weird blisters in weird places like on my arch and the top of my foot. They cramp and pinch my toes. They are hot. I hate them. I continue to be a shoe hater. They do have a barefoot shoe that is designed for running, but keeps your feet in a natural state. I may look into those. Both in an effort to stay comfortable and to express my shoe rebellion and hate for all surfaces concrete. They did say it would be easier though and more fun because movement is easier, you can try more things and are more likely to want to be with others while you do stuff.
"Whats the most fun part of having the surgery?" Lets face it here. I was born a 10 lb baby. I have NEVER in my life known svelte. I wore boys pants because they did not make girls pants my size. I wore hand me down shirts from my overweight 40-year-old aunt. I have never, ever been comfortable in my own skin, in public, in a chair...this question probably seemed inconsequential to everyone but me. To me, this is the most important because this happiness is what I needed so much in my lonely teenage years, when I had to go to dances and dance with a teacher, when no one wanted to be my partner, picked last for a team, made fun of and then the person who was forced to be my partner was picked on because he was with me. I cried so much, beat my fists on the cement until my knuckles bled, scraped coat hanger hooks on my skin to make myself bleed, hit myself in the face, pinched my arms and gave myself bruises and I cried and cried and cried. I want to finally know what it is like to be seen. For someone to see me in the room and describe me as that happy lady with the pretty eyes. That really smart lady, that lady who laughs and is so funny, that artist, that person who is not that fat person, that big lady, you know the hefty one. I am so ready to be seen for who I really am. I am so much more than this fat, tired, hurting, sad monster who happens to love art, writing, reading, and can sing like any of those American Idol girls. But see, no one sees the latter, because my body takes over the canvas and all the beautiful cool bits are pushed into the background. So, what is the most fun parts? Sitting in any chair, crossing your legs like a real lady, being feminine, clothes, riding the ferris wheel with your lover, having sex and participating fully in the act (not covered in group, but this is my blog and I will say what I want), walking through a turnstile, feeling pretty, wanting to have your picture taken, wearing bangle bracelets and necklaces without extensions, getting that tattoo I have always wanted and being able to wear the shirt that will show it off, sleeveless, shorts, going out and doing stuff with the kids, running, bras that fit, shoes that fit, cute underwear, motorcycle rides, knowing my hubby is proud of showing me off, singing in public and liking it, taking compliments, swimming, bathing suits, holding my baby on my hip, long walks, uphill walks, uphill runs, friends, socializing, fitting in my car, moving the seat up, not having the steering wheel rub on my belly and leaving black marks on my clean shirts,less food stains on my shirts (I assume if less of me sticks out, less will fall on my shirt), high heels, dancing...
And then she talked about people who failed, which pretty much consisted of people who failed to be aware, take responsibility, or try. people who assumed that the surgery would be a quick and easy solution to the overall problem. The scariest thing for me is the fact that after I do all of this, it is still not really up to me but up to all my people and my surgeon and my doctors to decide if I am ready. That scares me so much. Every time I even think something could go wrong, or I screw up (missed an appointment) I cry and cry scared to DEATH that this will not happen for me. An ongoing problem I have had my whole life is my so-called bad attitude. I have one, yes, but even when I have tried to overcome it, it ended up a factor in my failure.
Once I was at this work camp where we, as a group, went out and did chores for the state. We planted trees, painted picnic tables at the park, made paths, dug holes, chopped down trees. They graded you each week from 1 being the best, to 5 being the worst. I wanted a 1 on the worst way. All week I worked my tail off, worked through my breaks even, moved fast and did what I was told with no complaints. When the end of the week came and we got our numbers, I was a 3. I was absolutely crushed and spent my entire weekend locked up in my cabin crying. My counselor asked what the problem was and I told her everything. She in turn went to the counselor in charge of my work group who said that indeed I was a wonderful worker and I had worked harder and faster than anyone, but I had a bad attitude. To this day I think about that and how the term bad attitude followed me through school and all my classes, with my grades, my level of participation, all through the summer and camp, with almost every job I held thereafter, no matter what I did right or wrong, I had a bad or substandard attitude. So here I am facing this thing that is so important to me, so crucial to my self, my life, my family, my family's well being, my husband, my social life, my health, my health, my health and all I can think about is my bad attitude. Is it showing? Is it in the way? I know its lurking in my exercise hatred, but I'm smiling when I say I hate it. I'm doing it anyway. I showed up to group even though my dad was on his way to Rochester ICU--was that good or bad? Was my attitude bad? Was showing up anyway the right thing or the wrong thing? Having the baby there was bad, but I had no one else other than myself. Was my attitude bad then? What is a good attitude? Smiling and being chipper has not worked for me. I guess I still have a bad attitude even when I'm not trying to have a bad attitude or when I'm truly happy, energized, helpful and happy. Maybe I just have a bad attitude face? Will my bad attitude destroy my chances of knowing what it is like to be comfortable and happy? The thought makes me even more uncomfortable and unhappy and scared, and panicky, and a little sick to my stomach.
Is my admitting all of this making me seem like a crazy person? Crazy is a big no on the chart too. Fuck. And I was going to give the link to my blog to my group leader. I need to stop this thought process before it erupts into a really bad attitude.
Anyway, 3 people came in and it worked out that there was a bad extreme, good extreme and an average patient. The bad extreme guy-we will call him Grumpy-he was very ill beforehand, still has a hard time keeping hydrated, can only eat a little at a time a year and a half later and he had a heart attack postsurgury. He made sure that we knew this was very abnormal and that without a doubt, he would go through the surgery again. He can move, do things, go places, sit in any chair, ride in small cars. The continued problems is something he chooses to deal with happily because that is just how it worked out for him.
The other extreme was extreme to the good-we can call her Happy- had very little soreness, nausea or problems after surgery. She was up and walking all over the day after surgery and has had a happy result overall. Would she do it again? Yep.
Then there was the average lady-she needs a cool handle. Um, how about Flatline? Flatline still has trouble keeping certain foods down, especially harder to digest stuff like meat. She stated she had to be aware of how things were prepared and how much she consumed. She too, had no problems with saying she would do it again.
We asked our questions. Mine of course consisted of, "Did you/do you throw up all the time?" The answer overall was that you kind of know what will and what will not go down. A lot of times you know before you even swallow. I associated it with morning sickness. I could put something in my mouth and chew it a second and know it was the wrong choice before it ever slid down my throat hole. Grumpy said he could eat about anything, just only a bite at a time though.
"Does exercise get easier/more fun?" Yes. They told me to make sure I had good shoes. We all know my thoughts on shoes and how they compromise the strength of your feet with their ugly ways; however, I do have a good pair of walking shoes I paid a pretty penny for. I use them and get weird blisters in weird places like on my arch and the top of my foot. They cramp and pinch my toes. They are hot. I hate them. I continue to be a shoe hater. They do have a barefoot shoe that is designed for running, but keeps your feet in a natural state. I may look into those. Both in an effort to stay comfortable and to express my shoe rebellion and hate for all surfaces concrete. They did say it would be easier though and more fun because movement is easier, you can try more things and are more likely to want to be with others while you do stuff.
"Whats the most fun part of having the surgery?" Lets face it here. I was born a 10 lb baby. I have NEVER in my life known svelte. I wore boys pants because they did not make girls pants my size. I wore hand me down shirts from my overweight 40-year-old aunt. I have never, ever been comfortable in my own skin, in public, in a chair...this question probably seemed inconsequential to everyone but me. To me, this is the most important because this happiness is what I needed so much in my lonely teenage years, when I had to go to dances and dance with a teacher, when no one wanted to be my partner, picked last for a team, made fun of and then the person who was forced to be my partner was picked on because he was with me. I cried so much, beat my fists on the cement until my knuckles bled, scraped coat hanger hooks on my skin to make myself bleed, hit myself in the face, pinched my arms and gave myself bruises and I cried and cried and cried. I want to finally know what it is like to be seen. For someone to see me in the room and describe me as that happy lady with the pretty eyes. That really smart lady, that lady who laughs and is so funny, that artist, that person who is not that fat person, that big lady, you know the hefty one. I am so ready to be seen for who I really am. I am so much more than this fat, tired, hurting, sad monster who happens to love art, writing, reading, and can sing like any of those American Idol girls. But see, no one sees the latter, because my body takes over the canvas and all the beautiful cool bits are pushed into the background. So, what is the most fun parts? Sitting in any chair, crossing your legs like a real lady, being feminine, clothes, riding the ferris wheel with your lover, having sex and participating fully in the act (not covered in group, but this is my blog and I will say what I want), walking through a turnstile, feeling pretty, wanting to have your picture taken, wearing bangle bracelets and necklaces without extensions, getting that tattoo I have always wanted and being able to wear the shirt that will show it off, sleeveless, shorts, going out and doing stuff with the kids, running, bras that fit, shoes that fit, cute underwear, motorcycle rides, knowing my hubby is proud of showing me off, singing in public and liking it, taking compliments, swimming, bathing suits, holding my baby on my hip, long walks, uphill walks, uphill runs, friends, socializing, fitting in my car, moving the seat up, not having the steering wheel rub on my belly and leaving black marks on my clean shirts,less food stains on my shirts (I assume if less of me sticks out, less will fall on my shirt), high heels, dancing...
And then she talked about people who failed, which pretty much consisted of people who failed to be aware, take responsibility, or try. people who assumed that the surgery would be a quick and easy solution to the overall problem. The scariest thing for me is the fact that after I do all of this, it is still not really up to me but up to all my people and my surgeon and my doctors to decide if I am ready. That scares me so much. Every time I even think something could go wrong, or I screw up (missed an appointment) I cry and cry scared to DEATH that this will not happen for me. An ongoing problem I have had my whole life is my so-called bad attitude. I have one, yes, but even when I have tried to overcome it, it ended up a factor in my failure.
Once I was at this work camp where we, as a group, went out and did chores for the state. We planted trees, painted picnic tables at the park, made paths, dug holes, chopped down trees. They graded you each week from 1 being the best, to 5 being the worst. I wanted a 1 on the worst way. All week I worked my tail off, worked through my breaks even, moved fast and did what I was told with no complaints. When the end of the week came and we got our numbers, I was a 3. I was absolutely crushed and spent my entire weekend locked up in my cabin crying. My counselor asked what the problem was and I told her everything. She in turn went to the counselor in charge of my work group who said that indeed I was a wonderful worker and I had worked harder and faster than anyone, but I had a bad attitude. To this day I think about that and how the term bad attitude followed me through school and all my classes, with my grades, my level of participation, all through the summer and camp, with almost every job I held thereafter, no matter what I did right or wrong, I had a bad or substandard attitude. So here I am facing this thing that is so important to me, so crucial to my self, my life, my family, my family's well being, my husband, my social life, my health, my health, my health and all I can think about is my bad attitude. Is it showing? Is it in the way? I know its lurking in my exercise hatred, but I'm smiling when I say I hate it. I'm doing it anyway. I showed up to group even though my dad was on his way to Rochester ICU--was that good or bad? Was my attitude bad? Was showing up anyway the right thing or the wrong thing? Having the baby there was bad, but I had no one else other than myself. Was my attitude bad then? What is a good attitude? Smiling and being chipper has not worked for me. I guess I still have a bad attitude even when I'm not trying to have a bad attitude or when I'm truly happy, energized, helpful and happy. Maybe I just have a bad attitude face? Will my bad attitude destroy my chances of knowing what it is like to be comfortable and happy? The thought makes me even more uncomfortable and unhappy and scared, and panicky, and a little sick to my stomach.
Is my admitting all of this making me seem like a crazy person? Crazy is a big no on the chart too. Fuck. And I was going to give the link to my blog to my group leader. I need to stop this thought process before it erupts into a really bad attitude.
Group, week 2 and 3, not necessarily in that order.
So, today we talked about feelings. Like, what kinds of feelings you had today either in reference to yourself or others. I'm pretty much thinking that this was supposed to be in reference to myself, but because I was having a crappy day, dad went to Rochester ICU on his death bed AGAIN, no one was around to take care of Emma and I ended up bringing her, then getting the "talk" in the hall because evidently a 2 year old is a major breach of privacy-we had a long talk on the way home about how she could not tell any of her stuffed animals about what she saw or heard today in group-to which she replied with a long dissertations consisting of a lot of blah, blahs and I think she might have said boobie at some point...Anyway, despite the fact that it can never happen again, I'm almost positive no real HIPAA laws were compromised.
So anyway, how did I feel?
-Pissed at dad for not taking care of himself now, 10 years ago, 20 years ago, when he almost died of a crushed heart when he was 18 and told he would not live past the age of 40.
-Disappointed in him for the same reasons. Disappointed in myself for having the same attitude for so long. Disappointed because I never had the taste of "thin."
-Disgusted with dad for continuing to not take care of himself or do for himself even when he has been at the threshold of death 4 times in the last 3 years. Am I being dramatic? Only about calling near death a threshold. I say threshold because I'm literary. Disgusted with myself because I'm fat and lazy and tired and hurting and I feel like a failure in so many ways. At the moment it is taking a walk and my feet hurt and my back hurts and my legs hurt and I am hot and miserable and hateful and disgusted.
-Disdainful.
-Hateful
-Sick
-Angry
-Sad
-Overwhelmed
I should look back over my day. At the time I was answering that question I was sad, upset and I can't remember most of the meeting.
-How about proud of making the first steps to bettering myself?
-Conscious as to my decisions, good or bad, pertaining to my food choices?
-Happy that I won't be following the same sickly and emotional path my dad is following and putting his family through.
-Thankful that I will see my grand babies and can show off my funky back tattoo when they say that grandma's are boring.
I missed week 3 too, so I should throw what I can remember about that one in here. We learned about patterns in eating. Making choices and being accountable. Don't beat yourself up over a bite of chocolate, but make an effort to say no the next time, or eat less. We also talked about how our thoughts, lead to feelings, which leads to actions, which leads back to thoughts, which, after a while, can morph into beliefs.
Example: I cannot pay my garbage bill and service is interrupted >>> I am stressed, sad, feel like a failure, feeling tired, depressed >>> I'm gonna sit on the couch and mope, get some chocolate and popcorn and binge >>> thinking I am a failure, I ate too much, I don't feel good >>> become even more depressed, sad, etc. >>> sit on the couch again and do nothing and eat some more garbage >>> thinking about...and this continues until you are believing you are a fat loser that will go nowhere and has no control over their own actions.
Can you fix it? Yep. The circle goes in a positive direction too and you can go from depressed and sad and feeling like a failure to thinking positively, you can get up and go, feeling proud of yourself, eating correctly which makes you even more proud etc. Which in turn will will change your belief in yourself and you will be superwoman of healthy goodness. The trick is to maintain superwoman of healthy goodness despite the pitfalls and succumbing to that damned chocolate cake...to be continued. Sorry this is all mashed together, but I've had a busy week and I was a bum about posting. last week, I was just lazy and didn't feel like it. I'm being accountable for my laziness right now and countering it with posting. :)
So anyway, how did I feel?
-Pissed at dad for not taking care of himself now, 10 years ago, 20 years ago, when he almost died of a crushed heart when he was 18 and told he would not live past the age of 40.
-Disappointed in him for the same reasons. Disappointed in myself for having the same attitude for so long. Disappointed because I never had the taste of "thin."
-Disgusted with dad for continuing to not take care of himself or do for himself even when he has been at the threshold of death 4 times in the last 3 years. Am I being dramatic? Only about calling near death a threshold. I say threshold because I'm literary. Disgusted with myself because I'm fat and lazy and tired and hurting and I feel like a failure in so many ways. At the moment it is taking a walk and my feet hurt and my back hurts and my legs hurt and I am hot and miserable and hateful and disgusted.
-Disdainful.
-Hateful
-Sick
-Angry
-Sad
-Overwhelmed
I should look back over my day. At the time I was answering that question I was sad, upset and I can't remember most of the meeting.
-How about proud of making the first steps to bettering myself?
-Conscious as to my decisions, good or bad, pertaining to my food choices?
-Happy that I won't be following the same sickly and emotional path my dad is following and putting his family through.
-Thankful that I will see my grand babies and can show off my funky back tattoo when they say that grandma's are boring.
I missed week 3 too, so I should throw what I can remember about that one in here. We learned about patterns in eating. Making choices and being accountable. Don't beat yourself up over a bite of chocolate, but make an effort to say no the next time, or eat less. We also talked about how our thoughts, lead to feelings, which leads to actions, which leads back to thoughts, which, after a while, can morph into beliefs.
Example: I cannot pay my garbage bill and service is interrupted >>> I am stressed, sad, feel like a failure, feeling tired, depressed >>> I'm gonna sit on the couch and mope, get some chocolate and popcorn and binge >>> thinking I am a failure, I ate too much, I don't feel good >>> become even more depressed, sad, etc. >>> sit on the couch again and do nothing and eat some more garbage >>> thinking about...and this continues until you are believing you are a fat loser that will go nowhere and has no control over their own actions.
Can you fix it? Yep. The circle goes in a positive direction too and you can go from depressed and sad and feeling like a failure to thinking positively, you can get up and go, feeling proud of yourself, eating correctly which makes you even more proud etc. Which in turn will will change your belief in yourself and you will be superwoman of healthy goodness. The trick is to maintain superwoman of healthy goodness despite the pitfalls and succumbing to that damned chocolate cake...to be continued. Sorry this is all mashed together, but I've had a busy week and I was a bum about posting. last week, I was just lazy and didn't feel like it. I'm being accountable for my laziness right now and countering it with posting. :)
Friday, July 9, 2010
The "group"
Yesterday was group for GB. It wasn't exactly what I had expected. Some members were 9 weeks into the program, some were 3-4 weeks in, me and one other guy were noobs. We started out talking about our 4th of July weekend and what we did, and what we did to continue on our successful paths to self control or whatever. Everyone had a story about how they failed in some way. One lady had a cookout and her friend brought a dessert she loved. She failed because she had a piece. Another lady lived on a farm and struggled with the traditional meat and potato and gravy dinners every night for the farm help. One guy drank beer. Me. We went to the cabin and cleaned it top to bottom because it was our first time there since last fall. We swam and fished and ate a lot of hot dogs. Do I think I failed? No. Yeah, I ate hot dogs and chips with everyone else, but that was 1/3 of my time spent. The rest of the time I was active with cleaning, cutting wood, walking, swimming, fishing. The room was quiet. Everyone was looking at me. I'm not sure if they were thinking uh huh shes a noob, or if they were thinking, how dare she think like that! We must be perfect! Hot dogs are not acceptable skinny people food! Of course, I then had to say something since I was like to catch fire with everyone's stares. "Why can't you have a piece of cake? A cookie? why do you have to cut yourself off from everything? Isn't this about moderation not deprivation?"
Finally the lead lady said something about being aware of your choices and taking responsibility. Yeah, yeah. I got that, yet I think the moment would have went better if I said I ate fruit and veggies all weekend (which I did) along with the hot dogs and chips...not sure.
There was a quiz in my book about how I feel about myself 1 being bad, 10 being good. At this point, it looks like I'm pretty close to killing myself number wise. we take the test 2 more times during the course of the group, so we will see if I have any self esteem at all by the time its time to get my reroute.
I have to give up soda and coffee. Both of which are not good for my "pouch" which is what you call your walnut-sized stomach after surgery. After a year I might be able to have a taste of coffee, though some people never are able to tolerate certain things again. I guess I can give it up. I mean, I love my coffee, but it is one of those treats I don't have to gorge on to really enjoy. Chocolate...that one will be hard maybe. I did go without it before though when I was pregnant. looking back on my journal, it seems I didn't really miss treats so much once I eliminated them. I feel the most sympathetic for the beer drinker guy. He loves his 3-4 beers a day like I love my 3-4 cups of good rich coffee.
Another thing I brought up is the fact that after surgery, your probably not going to feel good-as in, after one bite of something you could very easily throw it up if its not the right thing. Beer drinker said, "I intend to feel very good after surgery." Yeah...missed my point, but everyone started laughing so I was unable to explain myself. Am I really the only one who knows that this is really going to suck balls if you don't follow the directions? I'm sure there is a reason you only get broth and crystal light for the first month after surgery. Since throwing up is torture to me, you better believe I'm not gonna go out and buy 3 pounds of Lindors and sit down and eat them.
Anyway, there were a couple of people who came up with some cool solutions to their sedentary jobs. Like the office guy got a "Tred-Desk" that sets up on your treadmill where you walk very slowly all the time while at your computer. Thats cool, but I was trying to figure out how I could have one of those and still run my foot pedal; however, Casino girl said that she got one of those big giant Pilate's balls to sit at her computer with. It actually takes a lot of strength and effort to keep you balanced while you work. She said that by the end of her night, she was getting so tired, she actually fell off her ball twice. I could use my pedal with that, but is there a ball tough enough to hold me? Casino Girl is only 200 lbs at the most. I can't even believe she is being considered for the surgery, but whatever. Maybe she has health problems. So, I'm going to look for a Pilate's ball for chicks who aren't kiddin'.
Finally the lead lady said something about being aware of your choices and taking responsibility. Yeah, yeah. I got that, yet I think the moment would have went better if I said I ate fruit and veggies all weekend (which I did) along with the hot dogs and chips...not sure.
There was a quiz in my book about how I feel about myself 1 being bad, 10 being good. At this point, it looks like I'm pretty close to killing myself number wise. we take the test 2 more times during the course of the group, so we will see if I have any self esteem at all by the time its time to get my reroute.
I have to give up soda and coffee. Both of which are not good for my "pouch" which is what you call your walnut-sized stomach after surgery. After a year I might be able to have a taste of coffee, though some people never are able to tolerate certain things again. I guess I can give it up. I mean, I love my coffee, but it is one of those treats I don't have to gorge on to really enjoy. Chocolate...that one will be hard maybe. I did go without it before though when I was pregnant. looking back on my journal, it seems I didn't really miss treats so much once I eliminated them. I feel the most sympathetic for the beer drinker guy. He loves his 3-4 beers a day like I love my 3-4 cups of good rich coffee.
Another thing I brought up is the fact that after surgery, your probably not going to feel good-as in, after one bite of something you could very easily throw it up if its not the right thing. Beer drinker said, "I intend to feel very good after surgery." Yeah...missed my point, but everyone started laughing so I was unable to explain myself. Am I really the only one who knows that this is really going to suck balls if you don't follow the directions? I'm sure there is a reason you only get broth and crystal light for the first month after surgery. Since throwing up is torture to me, you better believe I'm not gonna go out and buy 3 pounds of Lindors and sit down and eat them.
Anyway, there were a couple of people who came up with some cool solutions to their sedentary jobs. Like the office guy got a "Tred-Desk" that sets up on your treadmill where you walk very slowly all the time while at your computer. Thats cool, but I was trying to figure out how I could have one of those and still run my foot pedal; however, Casino girl said that she got one of those big giant Pilate's balls to sit at her computer with. It actually takes a lot of strength and effort to keep you balanced while you work. She said that by the end of her night, she was getting so tired, she actually fell off her ball twice. I could use my pedal with that, but is there a ball tough enough to hold me? Casino Girl is only 200 lbs at the most. I can't even believe she is being considered for the surgery, but whatever. Maybe she has health problems. So, I'm going to look for a Pilate's ball for chicks who aren't kiddin'.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Why can't I...
I want to be so many things. I want to be this super caring over-the-top lover of everyone and everything. I want to be at peace and natural and open. I ask questions while I try to grow and I have been told I am narrow minded because I "don't get it." I want to get it. I wish I got it. I wish people got me.
All of this is what I really want for myself, but today I feel like such a failure. I'm overwhelmed. I want to do all these changes outside of my body and inside my head and be something special and leave some kind of mark. I want to have friends and be liked. I want to be this fantastic mom to all my kids. I don't want to limit them, but sometimes I just don't want to deal with the mess. My husband wants me to deal with my nephew one way, and I want to deal with him another. Yaya wanted a bunny, but she constantly neglects it. My dad has nothing good to say to anyone. He does not like the flowers we put in the outdoor pots, he does not like how Dean mowed the grass, he cannot understand why the HELL I let Emma draw on herself. Mom does not listen. She has her cowboy shows and dad...
People can't understand why I can't put a pair of shoes on, why my baby is naked or half naked all the time, why I drink out of mason jars, my dishes don't match, my kitchen isn't spotless. Why is there chalk drawings on the wall? Why didn't you just give back the damn library book on time? Why do you insist on making the town look like a fool? Why are you constantly picking on the public school system? Why is your grass not mowed this weekend? Why can't you have a normal hobby? Why won't you buy new tennis shoes for your kid when she has a hole in them and there is ONLY 1 week of school left? Do you not OWN a pair of socks? Why can't you eat regular food like everyone else? Are you some kind of weird hippie?
Sigh.
I am a failure today because I broke down and cried. I care that people think I'm weird today. I care that they think I am substandard and a lazy parent. I want to scream I'M NOT! NOT! NOT!
I care that when I go to the grocery store people from town will ignore me and my selfish, library book-stealing-going-to-the-press-and-making-the-town-look-stupid ways. I care about the rumors and the lies today. Yesterday I would have laughed an egged them on. Today I am not strong enough to be different. I'm in no mood to sing, to weld, to explore, to parent. Today I just want to curl up and cry. I want a friend. I want to be alone. I want Emma to STOP WHINING INCESSANTLY! I want Curtis to let me deal with MY nephew and take a fucking second to remember that he was once 16 too. I wish he and I could agree again instead of avoiding each other. I need a nap or something. I don't even know what I need. Just sleep. I'm going to just sleep. This day is stupid and it's fired.
All of this is what I really want for myself, but today I feel like such a failure. I'm overwhelmed. I want to do all these changes outside of my body and inside my head and be something special and leave some kind of mark. I want to have friends and be liked. I want to be this fantastic mom to all my kids. I don't want to limit them, but sometimes I just don't want to deal with the mess. My husband wants me to deal with my nephew one way, and I want to deal with him another. Yaya wanted a bunny, but she constantly neglects it. My dad has nothing good to say to anyone. He does not like the flowers we put in the outdoor pots, he does not like how Dean mowed the grass, he cannot understand why the HELL I let Emma draw on herself. Mom does not listen. She has her cowboy shows and dad...
People can't understand why I can't put a pair of shoes on, why my baby is naked or half naked all the time, why I drink out of mason jars, my dishes don't match, my kitchen isn't spotless. Why is there chalk drawings on the wall? Why didn't you just give back the damn library book on time? Why do you insist on making the town look like a fool? Why are you constantly picking on the public school system? Why is your grass not mowed this weekend? Why can't you have a normal hobby? Why won't you buy new tennis shoes for your kid when she has a hole in them and there is ONLY 1 week of school left? Do you not OWN a pair of socks? Why can't you eat regular food like everyone else? Are you some kind of weird hippie?
Sigh.
I am a failure today because I broke down and cried. I care that people think I'm weird today. I care that they think I am substandard and a lazy parent. I want to scream I'M NOT! NOT! NOT!
I care that when I go to the grocery store people from town will ignore me and my selfish, library book-stealing-going-to-the-press-and-making-the-town-look-stupid ways. I care about the rumors and the lies today. Yesterday I would have laughed an egged them on. Today I am not strong enough to be different. I'm in no mood to sing, to weld, to explore, to parent. Today I just want to curl up and cry. I want a friend. I want to be alone. I want Emma to STOP WHINING INCESSANTLY! I want Curtis to let me deal with MY nephew and take a fucking second to remember that he was once 16 too. I wish he and I could agree again instead of avoiding each other. I need a nap or something. I don't even know what I need. Just sleep. I'm going to just sleep. This day is stupid and it's fired.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
As my date gets closer, I am faced with more and more animosity from my friends and family about what I am doing. I have only told a select few thinking that they would be okay with it and I could rely on support. One freind asked me how in the hell I think I can afford it. When I explained that it is covered by my insurance because my health and life is endagenered, he quickly changed the subject, but before we parted ways, he told me his supper was ready and he had to go get fatter. Wow. Seriously? Does he think I'm just giving up here? Taking the easy way out? My God, I have been on every diet, I've starved, I've lived off of carrots and turned orange, I ate 1 peanut butter sandwich all day every day for a month and gained 3 pounds, I went vegan and lost nothing. I've choked down dry chicken breasts and broccolli with no butter, gave up soda, coffee, cheese, milk, ice cream, chocolate. I've done it all and got nothing in return. You think this is easy!? My stomach will be the size of a walnut and will exit directly into my large intestine. Sugar will make me dump. The first year I get to nibble on things to see if they will make me puke or not. I will be on vitamines for the rest of my life. I can't have pop, beer, alcohol. I will have skin folds that I will have to live with for at least 2 years. My life is completely changing and this is not easy. Is it worth it to me? Fuck yeah. Without a doubt. There is no question in my mind. My sister said that all too soon I will be all skinny weraing cute clothes and strutting my stuff around. yeah. Fuck yeah. Have I ever been able to wear cute anything? Nope, never. Even my baby clothes were months ahead of my age. I got my first pair of girl jeans in the fifth grade because until Gitano came along, jeans didnt come in my size. Back then I was wering my teenaged sister and middle aged aunt's hand-me downs because I was too fat to fit into age appropriate stuff. I was teased, harassed, beat up, picked on, poked fun at, called names, pushed against the wall, alone at parties. Fuck you. You'r fuckin right I'm going to enjoy my freedom and all the bad that goes with it. A friend of mine who wanted to have a baby told me she wanted to be pregnant so bad. She wanted the aches and pains, the nausia, the stretch markes, the emotions--everything. She wanted it all because having a baby meant so much to her. This is my baby and it is worth every fucking second. You wonder why I don't want to tell people? This is why. I have people that are angry at me for trying to live longer, be comfortable, be heathier and find myself within this stupid rotten body. Why don't you just go on a diet? Why don't you just exercise? I know this one girl that was going to have bypass, and the preliminaries were so empowering, she lost the weight on her own--why can't you do that? Because I can't. Because its more than just laziness and indulgence. Becuase I have a family history, because I have never known thin, because I don't care to spend the rest of my life tryng and failing when I could be living and enjoying. When this is over, I will be proud of what I have done. I am not ashamed of myself anymore. I've been ashamed and embarassed my whole life. I'm done. I am done. I AM DONE.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
talkin' about the me time
So today was my day off and I was really in need of something new. I rode with hubby to the parts store with the kiddos and before we went home, I stopped at Ormson's and grabbed some cold chicken, grapes and strawberries. Since Curt had to get home and work, we had a small picnic in the yard. Noodle (the dog)ate all the chicken bones and got a handful of crisps and a whole stalk of grapes all to himself. Then Luke and Emma played in the sand while I got to hang out in the shop and weld. I haven't done that since last fall and it felt good to create something. The kids were awesome and Lucas even made Emma a bottle and put her down for a nap when she was ready without disturbing me at all. I made 2 things utilizing the solar lights I had found a while back.
Today I feel...I don't know. Not bad, but I am starting to find something within myself that I haven't really had for a long time--an opinion. A lot of times I have something to say, but won't really say it because I don't want to offend. Lately I have been saying and asking and explaining without really thinking about the outcome. Granted, I try to think about what I have to say before I say it so I'm not sounding like an ignoramus asshole, but I feel a tinge of guilt when I think feathers might be riled. I'm not sure why this is happening. I'm not sure I like it. I'm not at all sure that I am liked for it. I'm not sure that I can handle the repercussions should someone disagree. I'm stuck in the middle of...something.
Tomorrow I go see my chiropractor. She really does help with the aches and pains of "going" and I have even found that I don't really need to take my Prozac. I feel good overall. Not emotional, or tidal, or depressed like I usually am. I am still taking my stratterra religiously. I don't pretend to be able to focus alone, but it seems the adjustments are helping the depression as well as the sun and just getting out a bit. I'm sure it's a group effort.
Still waiting to start the LEARN program. I've been reading my book as well as another that kind of empowers. I haven't formed an opinion yet, but it's interesting, though a little monotonous.
I'm almost there. Not too much longer. I'm so excited, so ready. I can't wait to get up in front of people and sing, to be able to meet people. Just go out and not feel so giant. I have a huge list of things I want to do. Petty to some I suppose, but so huge to me. Walk through a turnstile, sit in a movie theater seat, cross my legs, wear a cute outfit and look cute in it, sit in a booth at a restaurant and not have to ask for a table because I don't fit, drive without the steering wheel rubbing on my belly, run, make love to my husband without feeling weird or embarrassed, take that belly dancing class I have wanted to take for YEARS...Oh GOD I am SO ready for this!!!
Today I feel...I don't know. Not bad, but I am starting to find something within myself that I haven't really had for a long time--an opinion. A lot of times I have something to say, but won't really say it because I don't want to offend. Lately I have been saying and asking and explaining without really thinking about the outcome. Granted, I try to think about what I have to say before I say it so I'm not sounding like an ignoramus asshole, but I feel a tinge of guilt when I think feathers might be riled. I'm not sure why this is happening. I'm not sure I like it. I'm not at all sure that I am liked for it. I'm not sure that I can handle the repercussions should someone disagree. I'm stuck in the middle of...something.
Tomorrow I go see my chiropractor. She really does help with the aches and pains of "going" and I have even found that I don't really need to take my Prozac. I feel good overall. Not emotional, or tidal, or depressed like I usually am. I am still taking my stratterra religiously. I don't pretend to be able to focus alone, but it seems the adjustments are helping the depression as well as the sun and just getting out a bit. I'm sure it's a group effort.
Still waiting to start the LEARN program. I've been reading my book as well as another that kind of empowers. I haven't formed an opinion yet, but it's interesting, though a little monotonous.
I'm almost there. Not too much longer. I'm so excited, so ready. I can't wait to get up in front of people and sing, to be able to meet people. Just go out and not feel so giant. I have a huge list of things I want to do. Petty to some I suppose, but so huge to me. Walk through a turnstile, sit in a movie theater seat, cross my legs, wear a cute outfit and look cute in it, sit in a booth at a restaurant and not have to ask for a table because I don't fit, drive without the steering wheel rubbing on my belly, run, make love to my husband without feeling weird or embarrassed, take that belly dancing class I have wanted to take for YEARS...Oh GOD I am SO ready for this!!!
Monday, May 17, 2010
And THEN they tell me I have to exercise...
So, I am struggling with the exercise part. Not that I don't want to as much as it is hurting the hell out of me.
Let's start this out from the beginning. First of all, I had to go in and visit with this cardio exercise expert person. This was fine, I mean, I'm committed, I am all for following protocol. The funny part was the fact that my expert just happened to be someone that I went to school with. I can't say that she was mean to me by any means, but we definitely did not run in the same circles. I doubt we talked, though, you know she is the type of person I do not want to end up in front of, fat and desperate asking advice on fitness.
Yes. I did get over it sort of. I mean, we are both adults now. I probably am the only one in the room feeling weird and bloated and ashamed of myself. Whatever. If I am to do this, I am doing it with or without Miss G. So we talked about my job, how many kids, what I do in my spare time, what I think is fun. We talked about fitness and what was expected of me during and after my GB journey. She told me she would like to see 1 hour of cardio fitness (walking, exercise tapes, treadmill, swimming) every day 6 days a week.
I went out, bought myself some really good shoes, loaded my MP3 with inspiration and started walking. I did pretty good, walked all through my hour without much trouble. My lower back hurt the first 15 minutes or so, but eventually I got into the groove. I finished my walk, showered and went to bed...
The next morning I was pretty sore. My hip hurt, my shoulders, my FEET. I figured it would take me a minute to get used to it and to keep plugging away. That evening I went for another walk, this time my hip and my feet bothered most of the hour and it felt really great to get those shoes off and be barefoot again, though my hip was really giving me trouble and by morning I was barely able to get to the coffee pot. I muddled through the third day, but when I tried to get my shoes on for my walk, my feet seemed swollen and I was unable to get the shoes tied. I started walking, determined to get through it. I have to do this or I can't have my surgery. This surgery that I have been ready for my whole life depends on whether I can do this. A half hour later, I was sitting at the end of my sister's driveway with my shoes off crying because I honestly could not take even one more step. I was so upset with myself that I had allowed myself to get to the point that even something as easy as an hour walk could literally leave me crippled. I was not in a good place. My sister drove me home and I went to bed.
I can not tell you how much I love my husband. If he was not here, I know I would have given up on myself. No matter what I see in the mirror, he always sees this beautiful person. He sees the real me that is in here somewhere and he lets me know that I am loved while he discusses my struggles. he told me that it really wasn't about just walking, but it was about moving in general. If I can't do an hour, then I do a half. If I cant wear shoes, then I lap the yard barefoot in the grass or I try something else. It's not all about walking, its about moving and doing what I CAN do.
My struggle was that while I have always been fat, I have never been unable. I struggle with the unable and the pain that makes me unable. Horrible.
Anyway, I got on Freecycle and lo and behold, there was a gazelle for free. I emailed the owner and picked it up the same day. Unfortunately, when I got it home, I felt like I was going to fall off, I was off balance and extremely uncomfortable and unable to relax. To be honest, I think I am just plain too big and the gazelle was not helping my feet out other than I was able to be barefoot. It was not going to work. I then found a bicycle for free and found that to be okay, however, the tension did not work at all and there was no resistance. I did not feel like I was getting much out of the situation. My mother in law had a really nice stationary bike that was mostly unused. I asked if I could borrow it. Alas, MIL said no, but she did have a peddle thing that allowed you to sit in a regular chair and cycle WITH resistance. I love it. It gives my feet a rest, but I am still doing my hour.
As for my hip/shoulders/back etc. My hubby suggested going to see the chiropractor. His theory was that I was just out of adjustment and getting straightened out would be good for me physically as well as mentally.
So, I am seeing Lisa twice a week and she is wonderful. While she kicks my ass, I ask her questions about why I am having such trouble, how I can stay in adjustment, why do my feet hurt so much, what is her thoughts on barefoot shoes and Temperpedic beds?? We have good talks. My hardest problem area is my hip and it hurts a lot to be adjusted there. She told me that my body is trying to be active with a lot of extra weight that it has not had to be active with for over a year (Since I started working full time as a medical transcriptionist). It is going to take me a while to get strong again. On the bright side, while everything hurts the same during exercise, it hurts less the morning after and I am able to function. As for my "great walking shoes" She says screw 'em. My feet are conditioned for barefoot. Supportive shoes are for weak feet with no muscle tone and strength to support themselves. If I have to be barefoot, then be barefoot. Until the weight starts coming off and my body gets stronger, she said she's "Got my back..." hehe...
Another thing I should throw in here after all my mental grief is the conversation I had with my psychologist this past week. We talked about the LEARN program that I will be taking part in next month and some of the goals that are expected of me before being approved to have my surgery. When touching on the subject of exercise, he stated he wanted to see me doing 10-15 minutes every day of cardio something. I said, "10-15 minutes on top of the hour I have to do every day?"
"You are doing an hour every day?"
"Well, I have my struggles, but I am trying to do something every day-an hour is my eventual goal at the moment, but when I started out, yes, I was doing an hour. I just could not move the next day." I then went on to tell the story of me and my chiropractor and blah blah blah.
He said, "Oh. Well, you are doing more than what we expect of you. One goal met then."
Yesssssss.
So, I am still working on 40 lbs (even 10 pounds will make the surgery easier for my doctors). Still trying to keep my head right, still reading my LEARN textbook and getting ready to start my 12-week therapy group. I have my ups and downs. Sometimes I can't come to terms with what I am doing. The pros far outweigh the cons. I am not giving up. This is really a hard thing to do. With or without intervention, I need to change or I will die. I'm not ready to die yet. I have lots of living to do.
Let's start this out from the beginning. First of all, I had to go in and visit with this cardio exercise expert person. This was fine, I mean, I'm committed, I am all for following protocol. The funny part was the fact that my expert just happened to be someone that I went to school with. I can't say that she was mean to me by any means, but we definitely did not run in the same circles. I doubt we talked, though, you know she is the type of person I do not want to end up in front of, fat and desperate asking advice on fitness.
Yes. I did get over it sort of. I mean, we are both adults now. I probably am the only one in the room feeling weird and bloated and ashamed of myself. Whatever. If I am to do this, I am doing it with or without Miss G. So we talked about my job, how many kids, what I do in my spare time, what I think is fun. We talked about fitness and what was expected of me during and after my GB journey. She told me she would like to see 1 hour of cardio fitness (walking, exercise tapes, treadmill, swimming) every day 6 days a week.
I went out, bought myself some really good shoes, loaded my MP3 with inspiration and started walking. I did pretty good, walked all through my hour without much trouble. My lower back hurt the first 15 minutes or so, but eventually I got into the groove. I finished my walk, showered and went to bed...
The next morning I was pretty sore. My hip hurt, my shoulders, my FEET. I figured it would take me a minute to get used to it and to keep plugging away. That evening I went for another walk, this time my hip and my feet bothered most of the hour and it felt really great to get those shoes off and be barefoot again, though my hip was really giving me trouble and by morning I was barely able to get to the coffee pot. I muddled through the third day, but when I tried to get my shoes on for my walk, my feet seemed swollen and I was unable to get the shoes tied. I started walking, determined to get through it. I have to do this or I can't have my surgery. This surgery that I have been ready for my whole life depends on whether I can do this. A half hour later, I was sitting at the end of my sister's driveway with my shoes off crying because I honestly could not take even one more step. I was so upset with myself that I had allowed myself to get to the point that even something as easy as an hour walk could literally leave me crippled. I was not in a good place. My sister drove me home and I went to bed.
I can not tell you how much I love my husband. If he was not here, I know I would have given up on myself. No matter what I see in the mirror, he always sees this beautiful person. He sees the real me that is in here somewhere and he lets me know that I am loved while he discusses my struggles. he told me that it really wasn't about just walking, but it was about moving in general. If I can't do an hour, then I do a half. If I cant wear shoes, then I lap the yard barefoot in the grass or I try something else. It's not all about walking, its about moving and doing what I CAN do.
My struggle was that while I have always been fat, I have never been unable. I struggle with the unable and the pain that makes me unable. Horrible.
Anyway, I got on Freecycle and lo and behold, there was a gazelle for free. I emailed the owner and picked it up the same day. Unfortunately, when I got it home, I felt like I was going to fall off, I was off balance and extremely uncomfortable and unable to relax. To be honest, I think I am just plain too big and the gazelle was not helping my feet out other than I was able to be barefoot. It was not going to work. I then found a bicycle for free and found that to be okay, however, the tension did not work at all and there was no resistance. I did not feel like I was getting much out of the situation. My mother in law had a really nice stationary bike that was mostly unused. I asked if I could borrow it. Alas, MIL said no, but she did have a peddle thing that allowed you to sit in a regular chair and cycle WITH resistance. I love it. It gives my feet a rest, but I am still doing my hour.
As for my hip/shoulders/back etc. My hubby suggested going to see the chiropractor. His theory was that I was just out of adjustment and getting straightened out would be good for me physically as well as mentally.
So, I am seeing Lisa twice a week and she is wonderful. While she kicks my ass, I ask her questions about why I am having such trouble, how I can stay in adjustment, why do my feet hurt so much, what is her thoughts on barefoot shoes and Temperpedic beds?? We have good talks. My hardest problem area is my hip and it hurts a lot to be adjusted there. She told me that my body is trying to be active with a lot of extra weight that it has not had to be active with for over a year (Since I started working full time as a medical transcriptionist). It is going to take me a while to get strong again. On the bright side, while everything hurts the same during exercise, it hurts less the morning after and I am able to function. As for my "great walking shoes" She says screw 'em. My feet are conditioned for barefoot. Supportive shoes are for weak feet with no muscle tone and strength to support themselves. If I have to be barefoot, then be barefoot. Until the weight starts coming off and my body gets stronger, she said she's "Got my back..." hehe...
Another thing I should throw in here after all my mental grief is the conversation I had with my psychologist this past week. We talked about the LEARN program that I will be taking part in next month and some of the goals that are expected of me before being approved to have my surgery. When touching on the subject of exercise, he stated he wanted to see me doing 10-15 minutes every day of cardio something. I said, "10-15 minutes on top of the hour I have to do every day?"
"You are doing an hour every day?"
"Well, I have my struggles, but I am trying to do something every day-an hour is my eventual goal at the moment, but when I started out, yes, I was doing an hour. I just could not move the next day." I then went on to tell the story of me and my chiropractor and blah blah blah.
He said, "Oh. Well, you are doing more than what we expect of you. One goal met then."
Yesssssss.
So, I am still working on 40 lbs (even 10 pounds will make the surgery easier for my doctors). Still trying to keep my head right, still reading my LEARN textbook and getting ready to start my 12-week therapy group. I have my ups and downs. Sometimes I can't come to terms with what I am doing. The pros far outweigh the cons. I am not giving up. This is really a hard thing to do. With or without intervention, I need to change or I will die. I'm not ready to die yet. I have lots of living to do.
Friday, May 14, 2010
took the blindfolds off.
I took a walk barefoot in the woods. I took the blindfolds off my feet and I walked. I gripped the grass and leaves with my toes, stood on a patch of soft moss and meandered quietly through the woods as one of the natives. I found a morel today. Just one. I picked some ferns and stood in the sun digging my toes in the wet sand. Before coming home I dug up a few dandelions to add to my stir fry. Its a beautiful day today.
Before I came home I took a minute to think about what was going to happen to me in a few short weeks. I've started to tell people. Some of them are happy, some of them treat me like I'm cheating. Sometimes I feel like I'm cheating. I think about where I will be in a year and wonder if I should take credit when I have to reroute my insides to even accomplish it. When someone tells me congrats, do I accept it with pride? I don't know. My life is changing. Its changing and I don't really know how I'm supposed to feel.
I used to daydream when I was younger, that my outward appearance was a costume. My fat suit was necessary because I was soooo beautiful that without the disguise my beauty would get in the way.
I finally have a chance to be more than my weight for once. I can introduce myself to someone without the first thought being whoa! I can be described as something other than the fat girl, chunky, heavy, big boned, matronly, fluffy, ugly. In that regard I am so happy it makes me cry. I can finally take off the fat suit.
On the other hand, will I always be, "See her, she had gastric bypass." I heard that so many times when out garage saleing with friends this weekend. Instead of being defined by their weight, these people were defined by the method they used to take it off.
I am probably looking to far into the inevitable. After all, this is about me and what makes me happy. The labels I receive are no different than "That black guy, that street person, that gay person, that crazy girl, that dude with the huge nose"...No one ever really sees anyone else as just a person without some defining label. I guess I would rather be "That one that was really fat and had the GB surgery, " than "That one that is really fat."
I'm going home to blanch my supper and serve it over rice. My treat after taking some me time today. It was nice. I can do it again.
Before I came home I took a minute to think about what was going to happen to me in a few short weeks. I've started to tell people. Some of them are happy, some of them treat me like I'm cheating. Sometimes I feel like I'm cheating. I think about where I will be in a year and wonder if I should take credit when I have to reroute my insides to even accomplish it. When someone tells me congrats, do I accept it with pride? I don't know. My life is changing. Its changing and I don't really know how I'm supposed to feel.
I used to daydream when I was younger, that my outward appearance was a costume. My fat suit was necessary because I was soooo beautiful that without the disguise my beauty would get in the way.
I finally have a chance to be more than my weight for once. I can introduce myself to someone without the first thought being whoa! I can be described as something other than the fat girl, chunky, heavy, big boned, matronly, fluffy, ugly. In that regard I am so happy it makes me cry. I can finally take off the fat suit.
On the other hand, will I always be, "See her, she had gastric bypass." I heard that so many times when out garage saleing with friends this weekend. Instead of being defined by their weight, these people were defined by the method they used to take it off.
I am probably looking to far into the inevitable. After all, this is about me and what makes me happy. The labels I receive are no different than "That black guy, that street person, that gay person, that crazy girl, that dude with the huge nose"...No one ever really sees anyone else as just a person without some defining label. I guess I would rather be "That one that was really fat and had the GB surgery, " than "That one that is really fat."
I'm going home to blanch my supper and serve it over rice. My treat after taking some me time today. It was nice. I can do it again.
The first post.
Well, here it is. My first post. To say that a blog is embodied by the first post put a lot of pressure on the fact that I am starting this on advice from a very good friend of mine for the sole purpose of blogging about my gastric bypass surgery.
At first, I have to say I was excited and empowered by this idea. but as the months wear on, the wait is wearing on the reality just enough to make it just another thing. Like a birthday, or graduation from tech school. Nothing special. No need to be excited. Its just a thing.
I took the time to write said friend a nice long email about my life in general, I don't know, possibly a little vent without being a drag, but in her return she mentioned something that made me think:
"You know, I have been doing this blogging thing for over 10 years and in almost every case -- people who have children only blog about them until they are about 3 or 4. Then they stop. They start talking about themselves again. I realize this is because the children don't need them as much anymore. The adult can focus more on themselves again."
I never realized how true that was. I have been saddened by the fact that another child could possibly kill me, always saying how I wanted so many. Selfish of me I know, when there are no many deserving parents that cannot have their own and would be more than happy with just one...I think about this and wonder, is it that I really want a lot of babies to take care of, or is it that I am trying to find an excuse to ignore myself? Is this my comfort zone, to be salve to my children's needs and whims wishing I had more time to rediscover who I was before they were such a major part of my life?
I used to be so free to create and solve problems and to read and think and laugh and swear and indulge in the little things that used to define me, that made me unique and dare I say it? Even beautiful in my own way.
I started the journey to gastric bypass years ago, but gave it up because of my kids. I handed over my chance at self esteem to take care of my nephew, take care of my newborn daughter, help my son transition his life from being an only child to the middle child. They needed me more than I needed to fit into my high school jeans. I'm not saying this was a bad decision. I'm not saying I regret my babies--NEVER. I would do it again in a heartbeat. But I realize that I have given myself to them fully and lost a lot of what I was, the person that my husband fell in love with. The artist and the singer, the creative problem solver, quirky dresser, spur-of-the-moment-er now is 450 lbs, in a house dress all of the time, never leaves home, works from home to be accessible to her kids, eats what the kids want to eat, catches a shower, works, cleans and sleeps when they sleep. I have a dude haircut because its easy. I don't wear makeup because its easy. I don't dress up because it's easy to throw sweats on, I don't eat healthy because it's easier to open a can.
So, some burst of self came out one day and I decided to try again. I'm not sure what prompted it, but I am 3 months into the process with 3 months to go. Its like the fairy tale where the prince can marry the princess that can spin straw into gold IF he accomplishes milking a constipated elephant, runs naked through a patch of thorns and eats dirt while juggling overripe potatoes. I have to visit the cardio exercise lady, a psychologist, the surgeon, pulmonologist, undergo a sleep study, 3 weeks of weigh loss therapy group, another psychology visit, a general medical check up, dietitian, more cardio exercise talking, lose 40 lbs, 3 more weeks of weight loss therapy class and one last psychology before my fate hangs in the collective opinion of all these doctors and my surgeon before finally getting to go under the knife. When the psychologist asked me why I am doing it, I told him because I want to be around for my kids. Not my husband, not my friends, my kids.
The newness is wearing off. I no longer daydream about how beautiful I will be, how much energy I will have and how much more comfortable I will be in my own body. Instead I am back to meandering through each day changing diapers, doing dishes, homeschooling and mothering. GB seems so far away...
Anyway-I think my GB journal will not be as much GB as a journal of self discovery. I am ready for my life to change a little bit. I want to maintain my motherly status, but I need to make some time to be me, to be a wife and a lover to my husband. My conversations need to consist of more than what the kids did today. I need to find myself again, so my new body will have a personality to go with it.
I love my babies more than air, but I wonder if living and breathing for these kids makes me a good mom, or an obsessive loser? When they are grown, what will I do? What will I talk to Curtis about?
So here we go. Step one. Hi Jess. What are YOU going to do today?
At first, I have to say I was excited and empowered by this idea. but as the months wear on, the wait is wearing on the reality just enough to make it just another thing. Like a birthday, or graduation from tech school. Nothing special. No need to be excited. Its just a thing.
I took the time to write said friend a nice long email about my life in general, I don't know, possibly a little vent without being a drag, but in her return she mentioned something that made me think:
"You know, I have been doing this blogging thing for over 10 years and in almost every case -- people who have children only blog about them until they are about 3 or 4. Then they stop. They start talking about themselves again. I realize this is because the children don't need them as much anymore. The adult can focus more on themselves again."
I never realized how true that was. I have been saddened by the fact that another child could possibly kill me, always saying how I wanted so many. Selfish of me I know, when there are no many deserving parents that cannot have their own and would be more than happy with just one...I think about this and wonder, is it that I really want a lot of babies to take care of, or is it that I am trying to find an excuse to ignore myself? Is this my comfort zone, to be salve to my children's needs and whims wishing I had more time to rediscover who I was before they were such a major part of my life?
I used to be so free to create and solve problems and to read and think and laugh and swear and indulge in the little things that used to define me, that made me unique and dare I say it? Even beautiful in my own way.
I started the journey to gastric bypass years ago, but gave it up because of my kids. I handed over my chance at self esteem to take care of my nephew, take care of my newborn daughter, help my son transition his life from being an only child to the middle child. They needed me more than I needed to fit into my high school jeans. I'm not saying this was a bad decision. I'm not saying I regret my babies--NEVER. I would do it again in a heartbeat. But I realize that I have given myself to them fully and lost a lot of what I was, the person that my husband fell in love with. The artist and the singer, the creative problem solver, quirky dresser, spur-of-the-moment-er now is 450 lbs, in a house dress all of the time, never leaves home, works from home to be accessible to her kids, eats what the kids want to eat, catches a shower, works, cleans and sleeps when they sleep. I have a dude haircut because its easy. I don't wear makeup because its easy. I don't dress up because it's easy to throw sweats on, I don't eat healthy because it's easier to open a can.
So, some burst of self came out one day and I decided to try again. I'm not sure what prompted it, but I am 3 months into the process with 3 months to go. Its like the fairy tale where the prince can marry the princess that can spin straw into gold IF he accomplishes milking a constipated elephant, runs naked through a patch of thorns and eats dirt while juggling overripe potatoes. I have to visit the cardio exercise lady, a psychologist, the surgeon, pulmonologist, undergo a sleep study, 3 weeks of weigh loss therapy group, another psychology visit, a general medical check up, dietitian, more cardio exercise talking, lose 40 lbs, 3 more weeks of weight loss therapy class and one last psychology before my fate hangs in the collective opinion of all these doctors and my surgeon before finally getting to go under the knife. When the psychologist asked me why I am doing it, I told him because I want to be around for my kids. Not my husband, not my friends, my kids.
The newness is wearing off. I no longer daydream about how beautiful I will be, how much energy I will have and how much more comfortable I will be in my own body. Instead I am back to meandering through each day changing diapers, doing dishes, homeschooling and mothering. GB seems so far away...
Anyway-I think my GB journal will not be as much GB as a journal of self discovery. I am ready for my life to change a little bit. I want to maintain my motherly status, but I need to make some time to be me, to be a wife and a lover to my husband. My conversations need to consist of more than what the kids did today. I need to find myself again, so my new body will have a personality to go with it.
I love my babies more than air, but I wonder if living and breathing for these kids makes me a good mom, or an obsessive loser? When they are grown, what will I do? What will I talk to Curtis about?
So here we go. Step one. Hi Jess. What are YOU going to do today?
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