Clambering out of the doldrums

I am taking some positive steps, hoping it will help me overall with getting motivated with both with both my career and weight loss.

I went to a counselor last week and I'm seeing her again tomorrow. She came up with an action plan for me that included:

• Getting blood work to see if anything else is going on (scheduled)
• Making an appointment to get a med re-eval (scheduled--bumping up dose until the appointment)
• Do something that nurtures me every day. Sorta slacking here...I need to make sure to get up at 5:00 so I can get some exercise in

It feels good to take action and I'm already a little more motivated in getting some things done that have been sitting a while. The first night I bumped the meds up I slept better than I had in a long while. Feels good.

ZOMG. I did it again.

Holy smokes. I surprised myself this morning. I went for a 3 mile walk. It was kind of hot and miserable but I was out there doing it anyway.

On my drive into work I felt pretty hungry. I was close to Starbucks. I was fully ready to go. I was about a mile away and I thought, "you know hunger is not an emergency. Maybe you should try and see how it feels. It is not going to kill you." I decided  I would pass up the drive through for today but as my car got closer I entertained the idea of pulling in. Thoughts danced in my head: how full I would feel and how comforting it would feel to have that warm coffee in my belly and the yummy scone on my tongue. Your basic food porn. But for some reason some small part of me thought "No, you're not doing this today, you're going to try something different.  You are going to see what hunger feels like." And so I did. It was absolutely, totally a non issue. Boo f****** ya.

do something different

This morning on the way into work I was tempted by the evil Starbucks drive thru. It helped that I was kind of nauseous and not at all hungry but I convinced myself to drive by with three simple words. Do something different. I had a brief internal conversation  about where I'm at now, how much I don't like it, and how stopping would not at all help me. Score one for the home team. We will take whatever we can get.

The only way forward is forward

I have been trying to resist posting a purely whiny blog post--but the fact of the matter is that I'm struggling horribly and I haven't been able to admit it to myself.

Yesterday I ended up in tears after listening to the guided imagery tape for weight loss on the way into work. Thanks a fat lot, Belleruth. It is all pretty innocuous stuff and I can't remember exactly what phrase triggered the tears but it made me take the leap. I took a depression assessment online (came back at "very depressed"--the one that admonishes you to "seek help immediately") and I finally called the EAP number to get a referral for a counselor. Pissed off that I'm here again but I've been ignoring that my mood hasn't gotten better with the change in seasons and this has been going on for 6-8 months.

I spoke with the counselor who answered the phone and she agreed that 1) I am dealing with a lot of shit and 2) I definitely could benefit from some counseling (and maybe a change in medication).

Just having that conversation made me feel a little more positive and helped me clear away some of the cobwebs. While I'm waiting on the call back from the local counselor, I know at minimum I need to start moving again--that's a big part of what helps regulate my mood and what I've been missing. This morning I logged 3 miles and tried to focus on how good it felt to move my body. Usually I think exercise is something to be endured as some part of my body is typically hurting (in the last six months I've had issues with plantar faciitis, tendonitis, back pain and Morton's neuroma, hooray!). Today I felt pretty good--and the Morton's was just a slight niggling irritation.

I plan on doing 4 miles tomorrow.

I did sign up to run a marathon in October and I haven't taken it seriously at all. In fact, the last few marathons I signed up for I've bailed on due to injuries--I guess maybe I feel that at my current weight I'll just end up back there while training so why bother starting. However, I'm going to keep increasing my mileage every week as long as my body stays healthy and work the counseling like it's my job. It's the least I can do for myself and my family.

Crisis point

I think I may have hit bottom, a.k.a., my highest weight other than my pregnancy. No bueno.

I am truly depressed about the whole thing. I listened to my weight loss meditation tape (yes, tape!) the other day and woke the next morning hopeful, which is something I haven't experienced in a good while. Another couple days of eating without thinking (or listening to the tape again) and I'm back in the emotional basement.

I simply cannot keep on this way. Life is too short. I'm feeling old. I am dreading hitting the gym because I'm embarrassed by my gain. I am dreading hiking with the kids because I won't be able to keep up. I'm dreading the beach vacation. I'm dreading seeing old friends--in fact, I actively avoid it. This is no way to live.

While walking the dogs this morning I decided to count the number of times I thought about some variant of "I'm jiggly" or "life would be easier if..." or "if I started now, I could be at x pounds by y". I  could go on about those (and maybe I should) but I counted 6 separate times in 15 minutes. That averages out to one thought about weight loss every 2.5 minutes! Just imagine if I refocused that attention on actually losing weight or envisioning what success looks like.

Mental Block

For the most part, in the past when I've successfully lost weight, I have been able to envision the end result--and that's the image I'd conjure up when faced with temptation. It really worked--and since reading "The Power of Habit" I realize I stumbled upon the cornerstone of changing habits. I had figured out what I craved and kept it top of mind.

Since the kids were born, I have failed to find that lodestone. It's been so frustrating. I have tried to envision what success looks like when trying to fall asleep or at other odd times. I can't get past how I look now. The mental image of the heavy, lumbering me is SO ingrained--round hips popping out, pendulous belly engorged, muffin top in all its glory, monster jiggly/floppy thighs, back rolls, considerably fat arms, double chin, and full cheeks (facial and posterior). Intellectually, I can start down the path of envisioning myself as thin and athletic but my mind is like teflon...I just can't get that positive image to imprint.

Here are some of the images I can't get to stick:

• Me at my thinnest [visiting my Grandma in New Jersey, I decided to go for a run. I wasn't a runner and hadn't run since forced to take a lap around the track in high school but I was so thin and fit I ran for miles with little effort (and in the throes of an eating disorder but we're going to conveniently ignore that for this visualization]. When my Grandma saw me she called me "lithe". That was the first and and only time I've been called that. I was around 127 pounds)
• Me hiking with the kids--and keeping up with no problem
• Me at the beach, stomach flat and curvy waist
• Me in my orange Prana running capris
• Me hiking in a tank top--my arms cut (hard to believe I used to hike with friends in tank tops)
• Me looking good in jeans in my moss green hoodie

None of these resonate. None of them feel real. In the interim I plan on trying to do guided meditation exercises. It can't hurt. At some point I hope to figure out what it is I crave. I have to reframe it because "not being embarrassed by how I look and my inability to keep up with my kids" isn't quite cutting it, unfortunately. :(

When I met with Linda Spangle, author of a veritable shit ton of diet books and a really awesome person, she had me work on some go to statements since the visualizations were hazy. They included:

• I am stronger than I know
• I can do anything if I put my mind to it
• It's going to be ok

Of all the things I've thought/blogged about doing, all I've done is 1) NOT eaten a Starbuck's scone and 2) planned some meals. I half-heartedly followed some good eating principles last week--but I also far too easily didn't even think about what I was putting in my mouth. Durr. If you do what you've always done you'll get what you've always gotten. Boo.

What a difference a day makes

I'm alive! No need to head the doctor to listen to my rattling lungs (added bonus, no need to step on the scale and have my major gain documented). Have I mentioned that it's more than 25 pounds from my lowest recent weight--which I maintained for a nanosecond before I tore my calf muscle last year? Le sigh.

Anyhoo, I am trying to be better about tackling things head on and keeping weight loss top of mind is a bit of a chore so I'm trying to blog daily. Hence the mindless drivel before you daily, oh audience of none.

I've been trying to remember all the things I used to do when I was a successful loser:

1. Baby carrots as a snack between breakfast and lunch. As many as I need.
2. Fruit when I'm craving things that aren't part of the plan
3. Water, lots and lots of water
4. Feeling hunger (repeat: Hunger is not an emergency)
5. Exercising bunches
6. Maintaining routine
7. Having a game plan of go to foods that I can grab without thinking (working on this one)
8. Having a focal point (envisioning what success looks like--yeah, reply hazy. try again)

Anyway, on the mend and feeling pretty good about the future.  Even if the stinking cat did knock my bag on the floor and pee on it sometime today.

ehhhhhhhh

I hate wasting days in bed sick. I definitely would prefer exercising today to this. All day I have been sleeping, reading and complaining about this damn summer respiratory flu. In fact, I am so lazy I am using my phone's text to speech to write this blog.

This weekend I haven't done much in the way of planning but I haven't done much in the way of eating either and I am somewhat anticipating stepping on the scale to see what affect my illness has had. Honestly, I'm just laying here wasting space so I have no right to hope for much of anything.

One good thing came out of coming down with this crud is that I have a good excuse to avoid the neighbors barbecue this afternoon. I have two neighbors far younger, cuter, and more attractive than me  and I can't but help feel like a blob standing next to them. I don't want to wear my go-to black elbow length top and black capris yet again, feeling sweaty, awkward and conspicuous. So there's that.

I've been revisiting doing the Eat to Live diet by Joel Fuhrman mostly because it promises a likely weight loss of 20 pounds in 6 weeks and I really need that running start. That and I suspect I've been getting sick so frequently because my nutritional intake has been crap. What's sad is that will get me back to where I was a year ago but I am really trying not to look back. Where I am at now is my new start line. While I am lazing in bed I am going to go back to some of the weight loss books I have at my disposal, plans for meals, and work on envisioning what success looks like.

(Text to speech is hilarious. Apparently envisioning what "Texas" looks like is a more plausible translation for my mumbling than "success". And sadly that is an astute observation.)

Zombies ate my brain

My lovely son, who at the age of eight STILL hasn't fricking figured out how to cover a cough, shared his nasty summer cold with me. Nausea, scratchy throat, stuffed up nose, jaw pain, chest tightness and the feelings that someone hit the back of the head with a bat and that zombies have been gnawing on the left side of my brain are all some of the things I've been enjoying courtesy of my little germ factory. And no, I am not exaggerating.

As I always do, when I don't feel well a sick, small (hopeful) part of me wonders if the illness won't help me get a little foothold on my weight loss efforts. If *nothing* sounds good and most everything I eat makes me feel like booting, my food options become wonderfully limited. I recognize that I've got it a bit twisted, but I didn't pack almost 70 extra pounds on my frame by rational thinking and good choices.

Today might be a good day for some smoothies with fruit and spinach blended to oblivion, bullion, and some crackers if I feel up to it.

Since exercise is out of the question, today seems to be a good day to plan some menus that I WILL MINDLESSLY FOLLOW IF I KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR ME. Maybe if I put that out there there's some chance that I might follow the plan.

Body by Starbucks

I have been (mostly) vegan for months--although I have been making exceptions for some foods I shouldn't be having anyway. Starbucks scones, I am talking about you. And this is your motherfing swan song.

In the past, I have somewhat pooh-poohed the whole concept of food addiction but have come to the sad realization that for me, my compulsion for sugar and caffeine is the driving force that is responsible for my recent considerable weight gain (that and lack of self control and low-level depression, hooray!).

I shudder (shudder, I say!) to think how much money I've wasted at the Starbucks drive through. It was part of my morning routine and that blueberry scone was a little piece of heaven on my drive into work.

When I really tried to sit down and think about the real payoff that was driving the drive through compulsion, a couple of factors rose to the top.

1. Distraction. Yep, for the few brief moments it took me to gobble up that delightful mass of sugar, flour and butter all was right in the world (as the unburned calories started to settle on my already massive frame)
2. Hunger. Duh. If I had a proper breakfast, scones were not even on my radar. 
3. Compulsion/habit. Boo. I should have been stronger than that.

But I'm done. I am really done. I am going to be off all caffeine by 6/15. My car will not (dis)grace a Starbucks drive-through again. I am dreading the caffeine withdrawal but it's a small price to pay for the many good things that are likely to come from this change.

Jeebus

[string of expletives. loooong string....]

Groundhogs day. Still in the frickin process of falling down/gaining. Every day.

Yesterday my daughter lifted up the bottom of my shirt while I was tucking her in and I was horrified. Horrified because it exposed my muffin top, which was slopping over my jeans which weren't even buttoned or zipped all the way up. Yeah, I've been zipping them up 1/2 way and folding the part with the buttons in so it's sort of like they're buttoned. Only it's not. Because I've gained so much that they don't fit comfortably any more. And the inside seams are starting to show the little white patches which means the friction is wearing them down to nothing. Feck. Hello, eBay, I'd like to purchase another replacement pair. And yes, I will swear it is the last time I'll be doing this (again) because that's how I (dellusionally) roll.

I now have 67 pounds to lose to make goal. But I'm not going to focus on that. I'm going to focus on what I know works. I don't want this to be a depressing blog (only monthly, apparently) that details my repeated failure to get my shit together. Enough already.

I'm trying to figure out what craving losing weight will satisfy--you know, that go to image I can envision/conjure up when I'm tempted which will get my head back in the game (the game I have yet to successfully map out--more on that b.s. later).

Here are the current front runners:

• faster marathon (faster being relative to "poke ass" or "not at all")
• the ability to actually RUN
• feeling freer & lighter
• fitting into a particular clothing item (don't laugh, that's worked before)
• guns (see above: the awesome cuts on the arms kind, not the weapons of mass destruction)

Yeah, I have got to do better than that.