Holy Cats, you will not believe my luck!

Guess what happened.

NO!! GUESS!!

OK, I’ll tell you.

Oh my Gawd, it’s so freakin’ COOL!

Vanita Cyril, the Queen of Bloggers everywhere

You all know Vanita Cyril, right? She’s the woman over at  After Bedtime Blog. Vanita’s so great, you gotta’ love her. Anyway, she ran this really cool contest last week. See V. has been a member of Retrofit for awhile now, and it’s been great to read her experiences as she has gone along. Through reading about her experience with the company, I have been dying to be part of it.  Now I can be part, as I won the give away for a year with Retrofit. I’m screaming like a twelve-year-old girl seeing Justin Bieber in concert.

I’m as nervous and excited as if I was going on my first date ever.

If you’re a reader you know this hasn’t been the best walk. Retrofit is going to help me. There is access to coaches, a dietician and you can use Skype, e-mail or the phone to meet with them.

I have a really great feeling about this attempt.

So, I am prepared and ready. I saw my surgeon today and he gave me a small fill and I can feel the difference. I will be , hopefully, starting this new branch of my weight loss surgery journey ready and set to go with a nice green zone.

I will be writing about my experience so I will begin tomorrow with my first Skype meeting ! I have hope.

OK later ‘baters and you guys are awesome to me

Buffet - by Jorge Gobbi ( morrissey on Flickr) | CReative Commons License Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)

“And I’m not rewarding myself with food!” she said in my ear over the phone.

After telling her how proud I am of her, I hung up and marveled at how young she was and she was putting into practice something I wasn’t able to do for another fifteen or so years.

She broke a relationship dynamic with someone who had the same relationship dynamic with me my entire life. It’s wonderful to see her able to begin to change and grow.She didn’t break the relationship, she broke the dynamics of it.

The volatile, abusive and crazy making neurosis of someone else ruled me, and then her. This person told her things like, “You’re jealous because I’m thin and get more male attention and you’re fat.” Talk about destructive.

This person is the voice in my head telling me that I have little piggy eyes, that I am vain and think I am so beautiful, etc. It is the voice that tells me I’m cheap, worthless, dirty and stupid. I am so proud she is finding truth at such a young age.

But her statement that opened this post , “And I’m not rewarding myself with food!“, speaks volumes more than the mere words seem to say.

What Now - By Breahn Foster (breahn on Flickr) | Creative Commons License Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)

Things get inside us; abuse of all kinds, traumatic situations, bad choices, and they begin to grow things from the mold that it brings with it. Before you know it, there is a confusing jungle that is too thick to see through and requires the skill of a surgeon and the patience of Job to careful and tediously cut the vines away from our walls. Unchecked, it determines how we grow and we become so accustomed to it that we no longer see it and simply react out of habit. Some of us react with drugs, alcohol, self-injury, dangerous or screwed up relationships or…..food. Some of us use all the above.

It takes a lot of practice to be able to step away from things that are dangerous to our self-esteem, mental health or our physical safety. But one day, it happens after many days of trial runs, and it happens without rage. It just flows like water. The resentment is still there. One can’t have years of abuse from someone or from mental tapes screaming at us in the background of our head and have it just magically disappear. But we are no longer accepting of incorrect and abusive labels placed upon us. We can no longer be convinced they are true and we begin to be compassionate with ourselves. It makes it easier, in some small way, to be less angry and maybe even a little compassionate to the twisted one who hurt us.

She will never know just how proud she makes me, year after year; how watching her grow has been a joy and a privilege. She may as well have come from my body and been one of my children. I wish I had been half as smart at her age.

Today is a new day, time to keep implementing self compassion.

It’s never too late to love out of us whatever’s living in us, eating away at us.

Just checking this WordPress app out so I can work on posts on the run!

Fair warning. I’m drinking coffee at nine at night…sip, sip, sip…

It was just gorgeous here at the Jersey shore today. Lizz, her best friend Mary and I went to the Wildwood boardwalk for the afternoon. As much as I can’t stand Wildwood and call it Little Newark by the Sea, it was a really nice time. The long beach was clean and yet to be full of trash from too many drunken, lazy tourists and the water was a straight band of blue across the horizon. I wish I had brought my Canon.

Two hours of walking (might have been two and a half, I didn’t really keep track) back and forth totaled about four miles though it was done in long spurts with time at arcades for the girls to sucker me out of money. My legs felt used but not sore or tired once we got home. Funny thing about my body, when I exercise, it swells starting with my fingers first. After a few hours it goes down but it’s really weird. After looking it up, it seems it’s weird but normal dilation of the blood vessels.

Good. I don’t need any more freaky shit with my body.

Sip, sip, sip…

Anyway, it wet my whistle for being active again. The feeling of broken glass in my knees and ankles isn’t around so I’m going to proverbially run with it. Can you imagine me actually running? I would need CPR. The EBV isn’t flaring so taking advantage of this time to get started again is perfect.

The trees have tried to kill me with my allergies being outrageous and almost comical. The amount of snot that has come out of my face has to be inhuman. Everyone out here is walking around sneezing, wheezing and with swollen eyes. The twenty-four hour urine test for Cushings has to wait until a personal issue is over and I haven’t been sucking down Prednisone for a few days. I imagine by Sunday of next week so I will pick the equipment up to have on hand when it’s all clear. I like to tell people who ask about the jug of pee “I just like to keep it.” and stare at them intently.

Sip, sip, sip…

Having spent forty odd days doing a Lenten Gratitude List over at Excitable Gurelle gave me a few things. Besides the obvious gratitude, it lifted some of my mood and gave me a renewed sense of purpose. It ain’t over ’til it’s over. Regardless of the outcome of the Cushings test, whether its Prednisone induced or otherwise, I have to live with this issue. Out lives and physical issues don’t stop because we decided to have weight loss surgery. Many will alleviated and that is kick ass. But some stick with us, like our eye color or the freckles across our nose. It doesn’t matter if others accept us, what matters is accepting ourselves.

Tomorrow a gentleman is returning my call to get my insurance straightened out. Once the outcome of the testing’s completed I can, once again, go back to seeing my surgeon and we will continue the discussion about a revision. Whether that happens or not is anyone’s guess but I have to live with the now, with my reality today.

Sip, sip, sip…

I’m a firm believer in health at any size and fat acceptance, not simply because I am fat but because I honestly believe in it. Even when thin I felt there was nothing right or OK about discrimination in any form. “I’m OK, you’re so so” doesn’t cut it in my book. I don’t have to like someone to make it OK for them to be who they are at this very moment.

OK so anyway, now that my pupils are pinned and I’m grinding my teeth like a tweaker on a run, it’s time to put the coffee away and try to get sleepy.

Just a few more sips won’t hurt…

Dear God, I’m tired. It’s 1:27 am and I am just starting this post. But I made a promise to myself that this would get one done at this blog. Since Excitable Gurelle has been doing daily posts for Lent, times been pressed. Every day I say to myself “Self“, I say, “Tonight we write a post to catch people up.” and every day time escapes me as I struggle to come up with new gratitude list additions. Tonight I was bound and determined, so when I was done the post over there, my ass was over here because I miss you guys.

Sometimes we say that age-old, sardonic statement “It’s can’t get any worse.” and then it does just that very thing. I’m being wry and not sincere. It has “gotten worse” in that I saw the endocrinologist and he was concerned about the weight gain. He has ordered a 24 hour urine test on me for Cushings and this is the last test. He will note is as Prednisone induced Cushinoid Syndrome if it comes back negative. I didn’t have the gonads to tell him I actually had already lost some of the new weight. Oddly, I don’t feel badly because I came to accept that this can’t be done alone any more. It isn’t working. My way isn’t working. I need help. I need support daily and in my exercise.

Having left a message at the hospitals fitness center, a woman returned my call this morning. While the rates are amazingly reasonable, they are still out of my range now. Not working much at the farm and going to group has really bitten into the extra funds. Perhaps some times down the road. It was a bit disheartening. Then I remembered that the county library often has classes of different kinds and after looking them up, found there are Zumba classes two evenings a week. Now, mind you, I hate to dance. My sisters used to torture me and call me The Dancing Queen so I gave up trying. But what have I got to lose? I don’t know these people. It’s not like I can hide my fat, so fuck it. Yes, I’m laughably uncoordinated, but is my life worth it? Yes, a resounding “Yes”.

At different branches of the library there are different classes and one in a town about fifteen minutes from me has Tai Chi twice a week and that is a real good possibility for me.

My eating has been poor with bread or another high carbohydrate food about once a day. Now, to be fair to myself, I am on Prednisone, again. I don’t know how to help it, I don’t know what to do to make it pass. Again, I need help. I need a network.

What are some of the ways you network…not “stay accountable” but network, for support?

I could really use the help and you guys are the smartest people I know–it worked for you. I need to try it, Cushings or no Cushings.

It’s four o’clock in the morning and I am a-fucking-wake when I went to bed after twelve o’clock.

As you can see, I’m not happy about it at all. Insomnia has been a lifelong problem that started as a child. Being four or five and wandering the house full of sleeping people sucked. It still sucks at forty-seven. We all have had insomnia at some point in our lives so we can all relate to the suckishness of it. My CPAP ran out of water so the humidifier put off that horrid burning plastic smell that’s acrid and gets into your throat and lungs. You can’t get rid of the taste until you run the machine for a while, clean all the parts and sacrifice a rooster to a full moon. I have to be up in four hours to get on the treadmill (that bastard ) anyway, so rather than spend it pissed off in my bed pretending to be falling back to sleep, I’ll put it to good use and catch up with all of you.

Flow with it like a peaceful fuckin’ river.

Seven pounds of the gained ten seem to have wandered away. Score.

Me, 6/2010, with straight hair I had my whole life

Yeah, no shit. It was that easy; couple of times a week on the treadmill (that bastard) and refrain from the high glycemic load foods. My band has seemed tighter more often so that has certainly helped. Getting a fill will tip me over into the constant green zone. Maybe easy isn’t the word…smooth…that’s the right word. As my friend Scott would say “You got smoove.” After a year and a half, I better have learned something.

I have a new little trick for the mornings when I’m not keen on eating. I take fiber every day so I’ve made a protein shake and tossing flavorless fiber in it, then gulping it down.

It’s not terrible.

It’s not great either.

But it certainly kills two birds with one stone.

Me, 12/2011 with suddenly curly hair

I’ve struggled with a lot of guilt. Being a weight loss surgery patient and having lost so little so slowly because of the Predisone induced hormone issue, focusing on other pressing things and then being sick came all together was disheartening. I’m not losing a shit-load of weight now, but a Hell of a lot more than I was and a lot more easily. I don’t have to fight for every pound. My straight hair had gone curly and seems to be trying to relax again. Just when I began to like the curls, it relaxes. Oh well. That’s cool, too.

Oh, yeah, I’m a peaceful fuckin’ river…I forgot…

Flow with it, Chrissy.

I’m a river just going with the flow.

What’s taking my coffee so long?

photo by BrotherEye on Flickr | Creative Commons License Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)

So, I’m not doing anything new or different from before, it just happens to be working better now. My body had enough to fight; bipolar medications, allergy medications for chronic hives, death, illness; it was almost a losing battle. It’s hard not to give up or get discouraged and I know I certainly did give up for a time. Having a huge case of the fuck-it’s is why the ten pounds was gained in the first place.

I’m starting to get sleepy again so screw the coffee. I’m gonna go nap before I have to kick my treadmill (that bastard) in the ball sack again. I hate that bastard.

Flow with it, Chrissy.

You’re a peaceful fuckin’ river.

Whew. I have had some realizations today.

~Excuse me for a second, I have to give my treadmill the finger.~

OK, yeah, I’m back.

Sorry about that back there. Every day I’ve been kicking its ass and it’s a bit ticked off. What a baby.

So anyway. I have this nasty head cold. I ear candled the Hell out of my head last week and I threw everything off by being too aggressive (Who’da thunk I could ever do that, huh?). I immediately felt my sinuses pucker up like raisins or deflated balloons.

photo by Luca Pianigiani | Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)

While driving to the market this afternoon I had a flashback. The warm sun sent me back to being sixteen and walking from the Acme to what used to be a Jamesway department store. It was a sudden flash but allowed me to continue examining who I was then. Yes I was sporting an eating disorder, but how come it had results then and not today? (Bear with me, this line of thinking has a  purpose. I’m not glamorizing ED’s).

Because if I wasn’t hungry, I didn’t eat.

Because my idea of how often and how much I should eat was different from today.

Because I only cooked a meal larger than a two egg omelet if I had visitors.

Because I was often on the go.

By SheilaTostes | Creative Commons License Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0)

There were very few home computers. I still walked most places or walked to buses. I couldn’t stand the boredom of being home with no stimulation. I only had a phone at home and it had a six-foot cord that trapped a person into one room. It was easier to go find my friends and hang out. We often walked all over the township gathering other people or finding things to do. Sometimes we just wanted a soda and would walk four miles for one.

So, obviously I was a Hell of a lot more active. I had to be to keep my brain stimulated. Today I can turn on the internet and get sucked in for hours. I’ve made a few changes.

No chair at the kitchen counter where I use my laptop now. I have a bar stool which is only used when I get tired. It keeps me from sitting all day. It’s not real comfy for lounging. I’ll only say this…wedgy.

Frequent breaks, reminding myself that I can find the funny when I get back.

Doing chores in order to be “allowed” back at the computer.

Convincing myself that by bringing my phone with me to the treadmill, I will see that nothing is missed in the short half hour I am away. This will grow to an hour over time.

It’s been painless, so to speak, to start. I have added time and now am up to the full half hour. I will add fifteen minutes on by the end of the week.

 

By Lottery Monkey on Flickr | Creatove Commons License Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

The State of My Union:

• Mood: Silly
• Whats my body doing?: I have a stupid ass head cold.
• Whats on my mind?: I wonder how much snot one human head can contain.
• Band Restriction: Good
• Eating: Much better but not perfect.
• Water: 1.5 quarts
• Net Carbs: 78
• Exercise: I kicked my treadmill in it’s ball-sack every day for three days now

Getting back to Low Glycemic Load is always so surprisingly easy. Finding other options for the chocolate craving or the desire for flour are out there, so it makes the detoxing so much less painful.

Listen, I gotta go lay down, my head is splitting.

But first…I’m gonna’ go point and laugh at my treadmill.

I own that bitch.

OK. I admit it. I have avoided you.

Wait, let me finish.

I have avoided you because of my head, not you personally, so go easy. I am aware my actions have been crappy and I am avoiding and not coming here being clean.

I have been on a new medicine (another atypical antipsychotic, Risperdol) and I didn’t watch its hunger effects.I ate something, every day, that is not conducive to weight loss and I gained ten pounds. I have gotten five off so far.

Another blogger, “Blogging Bitch” wrote a post about blogging, how fast bloggers quit and why do we write, entitled “Are you stil out there? Why do you quit blogging? Why did you start?” . It hit home for me. We do leave blogging suddenly and lets face it, we want or need feedback, otherwise we would be doing the private journal thing. You guys always gave me feed back. I’ve never lacked for it.

What I lacked was honesty, now. So I avoided, instead.

In all fairness, I did need to focus on my Bipolar, PTSD and Dissociation at my other blog (here), but they are not mutually exclusive. That doesn’t explain my eating, either.  A chocolate bar a day, or ice cream, doesn’t have a reason for being in my life now, other than lack of self monitoring or self-care.

I’m a lousy liar and hate it, so I avoid instead.

OK. That being said…forgive me.

This isn’t just about me. I always wanted feed back, I wanted this about us. So I’m opening up the ability to be a subscriber and to add in posts under your own name (once submitted to me). I want to hear from you and for me to stop being dishonest like I have for about four weeks or so now.

We will resume regularly scheduled posting.

The Asshole

My dog is such an asshole.

(No, auto-correct, I do not mean “ash-hole” , now, fuck off.)

My eyes wouldn’t stay open and I finally went to bed at five pm last night, meaning to only take a short nap. Instead I slept two and a half hours. I awoke feeling drugged and had coffee to snap awake and write. Because I have the impulse restraint of a two month old baby and just had to have that coffee, I stayed awake until midnight.

Sleeping only about two hours, I lay in the dark just twisting around in the bed, dozing in and out, for about three hours. That level of consciousness allowed me to hear the strange noise that was quiet and furtive coming from the kitchen. My gut had me get up even though it was muffled, only to find my asshole dog had picked this morning to break his “never steal food from the kitchen” rule slash record and was chowing on the defrosting steak that was tonight’s dinner.

The fucking asshole.

Now I’m debating whether I really want to take him for the long walk I have scheduled.

The Convicted Big Head Fred

I’m wide awake now and have that little tiny throbbing thing in my left temple. My coffee press is set and will be dispensing soothing caffeine laden goodness to me soon. Asshole is banished to the hallway and keeps looking at me sideways to check if I have weapons.

I suppose the walk could be my make-up move towards the li’l punk-ass, big-headed asshole.

He is kinda’ cute even if he is a jerk.

Fine. I’ll take him for a walk with me.

I posted on Facebook that I was looking for a local to be a walking partner and the only people to respond were those who couldn’t do it…that’s just so funny. Until then, we will do our walks alone, and I will try not to kill my dog…

The asshole.

What are you having for dinner?

Can we come over?

The original video lost the ending and when I tried to re-upload it, the ending was still snipped off. Hopefully this upload worked without a hitch. Either way, Im not changing it again lol