A Slip, a Trip, and a Fall

Well, I can't even remember when it was that I began to eat sugar again. I think right around Christmas I started to lighten up  because felt like I was missing out a bit. Then, of course, came ice cream, the BANE of my existence. It's my biggest enemy. I can literally sit down and eat an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's coffee toffee crunch, which I did yesterday afternoon. And then I got violently ill, but not really sick. Confusing, I know. Please allow me to explain. I'll need a little background info first.

In the middle of January I finally began to menstruate in earnest after spotting on and off since Christmas Day. Unfortunately, it only got worse. And Worse. And WORSE. And more than a month had passed and I had gone through 4 boxes of super tampons, 3 packs of overnight pads, and I was beginning to grow faint, I felt cold, and dizzy. It was hard to sleep, but I was tired, and I was feeling so strung out I ended up making an appointment with the local hospital's woman center to try and get some answers. The menstruation was relieved by taking a double-dose of a birth control pill, Seasonique, which stopped it within a couple days. FANTASTIC.

But during that month of menstruation, when I felt like nothing would ever feel good again, I broke my diet and began to eat sugar, ice cream, and wheat. The wheat was actually not a bad idea because I have found I eat less and am more satisfied when I eat wheat and gluten. So, that's okay.

The sugar is BAD NEWS BEARS. Really bad news.

As I've mentioned before, I have a sugar addiction. It's a really bad one, too. And while I've been pretty good about not giving in too much, it makes me snacky, it fires the part of my brain for pleasure and then I go craving it more and more. Which is bad. And when I eat it, unfortunately, along with the high I also get incredibly anxious.

So. Now that I'm eating sugar again, I'm dealing my my bipolar even more. Which sucks.

And what's worse? That pint of Ben & Jerry's I ate last night that made me sick? It make me MENTALLY sick. I got very suicidal, anxious, pessimistic, low, negative, black and white extremes of thoughts... all bad things. I tested that again just now before I began to blog. I ate a king size Twix candy bar. And immediately I am filled with all those bad feelings and suicidal ideations.

SUGAR IS A NO NO.

I need to break myself from it again. I was doing so well, feeling so much better. Calmer. More in control. Now, I'm all over the place. I sleep terribly. I spent $600 in 2 days and I don't even remember what on, probably personal care items and gas and a date for Valentines and my birthday. But still. I'm feeling pretty low and out of control and it's not good. I have to keep reminding myself that this is not all or nothing... I can always make a choice and make a conscious effort to remove sugar from my life again. I'm not a slave to my addiction. But the sugar center of my brain tells me otherwise, and adds in all kinds of negativity and bad thoughts about myself, throwback to my childhood and bad relationships I've had as an adult. Things like, "You don't deserve to be happy." And, "You are nothing; You've always been nothing, you'll never be anything. You're worthless." And my personal 'favorite,' "Just give up. Think about your wrists, Bleeding. Think about oblivion. Wouldn't that be great? Aren't you tired? Why do you hold on. Why don't you let go?" Of course, I can't give in to ANY of these thoughts even though they are loud and intrusive, persuasive, and permanent.  And I won't do anything bad, even though I think about it. But it doesn't make it any less awful to go through.

I decided that since February sucks so much, and it's a short month, I'm going to give myself to the end of the month to get myself back on track. I'm cutting sugar back out. I am going to keep the wheat, but I am going to watch carbs overall and try to limit them as much as I can.

This isn't a "fall," I've decided. This is a slip and a trip. I am not starting over from scratch. I haven't even gained any weight. I just have to rededicate myself to my goals.

I'm better than this. I deserve better. The only person who can make the change is me.

Stupid scale

I was right to be wary of the scale here at work. Apparently, at least, according to my obgyn's office, I weighed 430. I weigh less now.

I had a 26 day long period. It was horrible. Instead of slowing down the bleeding got worse and worse. Eventually, I started getting dizzy spells so I had to go to see a cnm at my local women's center. Luckily, she's freaking amazing and I <3 her. No bullying or fat shaming and she actually wants to help me to get my body ready/willing/able to conceive. I also get the feeling she won't be adverse to a vbac home birth either.

So I was given seasonique to stop my bleeding, which it did like a champ. I'm very pleased. Friday (my birthday) I go for an ultrasound to check my lining and ovaries and whatnot, and then if everything checks out, I'll be scheduled for a pap and then a d&c to clean me put and give me a fresh slate going forward. Then... well, I am not sure. But I'm definitely on board with the babymaking train.

Due to ALL the excessive bleeding and whatnot I went back on sugar and I need to go back off. It's not as bad as it could be, but ugh. I definitely feel more weak and sluggish, even though my moods are better. But maybe my moods are better because of the birth control, who knows?

My 34th birthday is Friday. Trying to not be depressed because I miss my baby boy. He'll be 7 on our birthday.

I found I am getting my natural waist back, which is pretty exciting. And I can wear my size 28 old navy skinny jeans jeans again, which is also exciting. I need to keep being positive. Things are a lot better than they were a year ago this time.

Don't Start the Parade

So, according to the scale here at work, I'm either 420 lbs or 380.

I HATE YOU, SCALE!

My mom thinks I'm on the lower end of things. My weight loss was jumpstarted by my first, legit period in longer than I can remember. I know it's legit because it took from between Christmas and 11 days ago to actually come on, along with mood swings, cravings, pain under my arms, acne, the whole shebang. And it's been 11 days since it began in earnest. And wow. Steady she goes! Steadily rough, but steady. I'm feeling better physically in that department, but physically for actual, I feel pretty foul. Weak, dizzy (probably anemic), very tired. I had a horrible migraine this evening, but I caved and got some chocolate almond bark, and that helped a lot. Only ate half the bag, progress!

So I simply don't know where I am standing on anything weight-loss related. But I do know my stomach doesn't rest on the steering wheel anymore. It barely touches it. And I am «thisclose» to being able to wear the seatbelt. I keep thinking I want to try on some of my jeans, but I should probably wait for menstruation to be done. It would be nice to be able to wear more of my wardrobe. I never thought I'd say I'm sick of yoga pants and leggings, but yeah.

That's all, folks, for now.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Haven't posted since before the holidays. I've been going a little crazy with the lack of sleep due to working the night shift and transporting my husband to the second shift. I never feel like I get enough REM sleep.

Up until a week ago I was ecstatic. So positive, full of good vibrations: I was the warm, happy center of the universe. Then BOOM. And I go back to anxious, stressed out, tired, etc. Guess I was manic again. I never know I'm manic until either someone points it out, or I crash back into depression. While I don't think I'm nearly as low as I used to get, I'm definitely lower.

Thought I was going to menstruate like it eds a goddamn Christmas miracle. ALL the symptoms followed by spotting. Then... nothing. It was probably my body getting to ramp up to a period and failing miserably. Bit, of course, some foolish little optimistic part of me always interjects... and since it COULD have been implantation bleeding, I took a couple pregnancy tests which, of course, led to absolutely nothing with the first test and an annoying-as-fuck slight shadow on the second test, which I couldn't get to show up on camera, and now looks all nasty and yellow with a pink tinge because it's been a few days since I peed on it and my urine is dried. It's probably nothing as usual. I don't know why I continue to hope for something that is probably never going to happen. It's the very definition of madness, I suppose.

My best friend and his boyfriend came over tonight to hang out with the hubby while I am here at work. They kept complimenting me, saying how I look so good, etc etc and how I'm "getting skinny" and I just want to slap them. I know they're trying to be nice and encouraging to me, but I don't want lip service.

I've begun to wonder if I have body dysmorphia. It would be a mild case because I don't necessarily hide my perceived flaws, and jeez, how could I? I do still contemplate suicide regularly, but I think that's a coping mechanism for me. Like always knowing where the emergency exits on the airplane are... you know they'll not save you from certain death, but the illusion of safety itself is a comfort. At least, if all else fails, I know I have THAT control.

I think that's how I hit so fat: anxiety and perceived control. I couldn't change the bullshit in my life, but I could control my food intake. I binge ate. I can admit it now. It was pretty fucking awful. I can't believe how much food I used to put away. Even now, the potential is there. If I don't check myself, I just mow down everything as quickly as I can.

There's this character from a childhood cartoon that I think of as I write this. Heffer Wolfe from Rocko's Modern Life. There's this episode called "To Heck and Back" wherein Heffer chokes and goes to He(ll)(ck) and Peaches = The Devil makes him watch tv of his sin, gluttony. It showed him reading an entire cake, his grandfather's birthday cake, swallowing it whole, lit candles and all. Grandpa Wolfe is hitting Heffer on the head with his cane, crying "Did you even taste it?" Yeah, lately, I kind of feel like that's me. And that's sad.

I have a goal, though, because you can't live a life without one, especially when making a lifestyle change. This goal is to get down under 400 lbs. My reward? I'm going to go to the doctor. Does that sound counterintuitive? Maybe to some. But as all super morbidly-obese people know, going to the doctor is like a literal guarantee that they are going to make you feel like shit about yourself, they will refuse to help or actually treat any medical conditions, and will try to refer you to both a dietitian and a doctor who specializes in weight loss surgery. So yeah, huge waste of time. But I want to go rub my weight loss in Dr. Jerk's face. And then probably see about getting my menstruation back. Because however much I hate the stupid process, I'm happier, healthier, and more emotionally stable when my period comes every month.

Tipping the scales

So standing on the scale and not recording my weight for a couple days has made me figure a few things a little differently.

1. My right leg is my dominant, it's the one I put most of my weight on when standing.
2. Standing on the scale, leaning to the right makes me look like I weigh more.
3. That's why when standing on my right leg, the numbers on the scale would swing up and down.
4. I think I actually weigh a lot less then I'd thought.
5. Therefore, I'm progressing still on par with my prior weight loss and no, I have not got a plateau like my last entry suggests.

Happy 420 lbs to me!!! That's a 48 lb loss!

I looked in the mirror at home yesterday. I realized I have some random and super gross varicose veins in my upper-thigh side hip area. How the heck did that even happen?! Maybe sleeping on it? That is my dominant sleeping side. But eww. And my legs have gone from pleasantly plump to blue-cottage-cheesy since I started this new lifestyle change. I definitely need to look into really good lotion and an anti-cellulite scrubber. Yuck.

One of my best friends told me today how good I look. Well, thanks! But I'm a work in progress!

Annoyed

I thought I was losing weight so fast but I seem to have stalled.

I've gone from +468 to 435 give or take. I thought I was doing better. I realized when I stood I the scale today that if I lean to the right slightly, I show more weight, and less if I lean to the left. So of course I begin second-guessing myself and while I'd LOVE to be the 420 it COULD read, I am concerned that the 435 it seems to read at a balance could be horribly wrong, and I'm TERRIFIED that I'm actually 450, and I'm never going to lose enough weight to have a baby.

I read this blog entry today and it gave me some feelings of healing. I have been bullied and discriminated against due to my obesity for years. And it's near impossible to lose weight because of my PCOS, and I'm not ovulating or even menstruating regularly, so I know that contributes to my being so fat. But nothing makes me more hopeless than when the doctors refuse to help me, treat me like a leper, and just try to foist me off on specialists or bariatric surgeons.

I guess I'm having a hopeless day today. I didn't sleep much yesterday before work, my mother started chemotherapy again this week for her colon cancer metastasis nodes in her lungs, and my husband is working an awkward shift that means I hardly get any sleep before I have to get up and bring him in. And by the time I get home and lay down, even if I don't sleep before I bring him in (like yesterday) I still lay there, sleepless, until after 4 p.m. which makes things even harder because I have to pick him up at 9 p.m. and I had to drink a huge coffee to get thru my overnight shift tonight.

And of course not sleeping is fucking with my head, making me paranoid, depressed, anxious, weepy, and suicidal. So needless to say, I'm not having a great day, and I just can't wait for it to be over so I can go home and at least TRY to sleep and feel better.

Worst part of all this is I have been feeling so nauseated throughout the day and evenings and had breast tenderness. I know there is no way in hell I'm pregnant because I'm not cycling. And it makes me want to scream and pull my hair out because that's nothing I would want more than a baby with my husband. And it will probably never happen because I just can't seem to shake the weight.

Just to clarify...

Wow. So... in the 37 days since I changed my lifestyle and diet by cutting out wheat and sugar, I've lost 23 lbs.

Let's do the math. 37 days is 5.28 weeks. 23 lbs divided by 5.28 weeks is 4.35 lbs PER WEEK. Holy moley.

I logged my food intake from the last 24 hours into the "Lose it" app and I guess I just don't eat as much as I thought I did. I've only had 1741 calories since noon yesterday, when I got up. This includes having McDonald's for lunch today.

I'm speechless.