Entry 25 - Gotta Pull My Head Out of My Butt

This is a picture of me from, I dunno, 6 or 7 years ago. I want to look like this again. Mom had this picture, which I'd never seen before, so I copied it.

Here's why this is relevant now. It's another attempt at inspiration. After a shitload of hassle (I'll save that for when I'm not as tired), I was diagnosed with arthritis in my frakkin' foot. On the TOP of my foot no less. It remains consistently red and swollen and painful. Some days, particularly mornings, I can barely walk.

It occurred to me that maybe God was once again trying to get my attention. He tried fibro (which would have benefitted from weight loss) and I blew right past. Then there's weight watchers at work, which I've been blowing off. And a doctor willing to work with me on my weight - whom I've been disappointing. Maybe God finally facepalmed and decided to hit me with something that, the troubles that surround it are so directly affected by how much weight I carry, I can't ignore.

Anyway, I pretty much said as much during the "joys and concerns" sharing part of choir practice tonight. Including the statement that I need to "Pull my head out of my butt" about this. (Thank heavens I'm a heretical Methodist and not a fundie, although I at least refrained from saying "ass," which was my first instinct.)

The music director dialed my language back a bit when he lead the group prayer. But hey, I've got a room full of prayerful singers on my side now. That can't hurt, right?

Be patient with me please, God. I may be a spoiled little pissant, but I really am listening.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Entry 24 – I'm Happy, I'm Feeling Glad

February 14, show the love! The sun is showing us love today. Ah, blessed sunshine, how I missed ye! I've packed some sunshine into a bag for later!

Funny how mood changes with the seasons. And with the help of a good doctor.

I was nearly in tears at the doctor's office last Friday. Most recent weigh-in? I've gained fifty pounds in the last two years. He was shocked, too. So, he's working with me closer than ever to try to bring things down. I'm on a new medication – phentermine, but it's the "metabolism" half of Fen-Phen, and I'm being closely monitored for the next three months. He also lectured me – "You have to work with me on this." A chastisement I needed. Although he also acknowledged some of my fibro meds not only increase the appetite, but slow the metabolism, yay! Double whammy!

What's really amazed me is – I have energy. Holy cow, I didn't nap at all this weekend! When does that happen? And I woke up at 5 this morning and worked out like a champ! And today, I didn't almost fall asleep over lunch or during any meetings!

Wonder if we've stumbled upon a narcolepsy cure here? Ha!

Anyway, I’m useless, but not for long. Things are on a good track. I'm bound and determined not to fail my doctor. I've just been made president of the Midwest chapter of an attorney-practice-area association. And last night – this was just amazing – last night as I'm folding laundry, singing to my iPod and dancing while folding laundry, my daughter comes in and says, "Mom, I love your life. I want a life like yours when I grow up." She even acknowledged all the hard times I've worked through to get to this place emotionally, spiritually, and financially. Seriously, if this is the example I'm providing to my daughter, it's not half bad, is it? I may be in pain every day, I may be trapped in the body of a lumbering giant, but I'm so happy with the things I do have, my daughter sees that more than anything.

Really, what better affirmation can you have that you're on the right track than words like that from a child? A tween no less! Aren't tweens supposed to start hating their parents right about now?

My future is comin' on!

Entry 23 - One can only hope.

Oh, I am a silly, silly woman.

Recently I found myself addicted (whether physically or habitually) to stopping by Casey's in the morning and picking up an energy drink and a small bag of M&Ms.

As time progressed, it became two energy drinks and a "sharing size" of M&Ms, which you can bet your sweet bippy never got shared.

And bear in mind, that would not necessarily be all of the caffeine or chocolate I'd have in a day.

Anyway, I kind of reached a point this weekend where everything just fell apart for me. Not mentally, just … it's hard to explain. I realized by the end of last week that I was afraid to get weighed because I could feel my backfat touching my hipfat. Never good. And I plain ol' felt horrid. I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't want to get off the couch. Every movement just felt painful, and every touch from anyone felt painful. I was trying to write this off in my head to a trip to Kansas and back, followed by a trip to St. Paul and back. Both of which certainly contributed, but could have been mitigated. I could have been doing my exercise bike every morning again (lately, I just sleep right on through "bike time"). I could be cutting out all the known fibromyalgia aggravating foods like peppers, potatoes, CAFFEINE, etc. But I wasn't.

And now not only was I incredibly miserable, but I was also cleaning between parts of my skin that shouldn't be touching in the first place.

And I went shopping for a dress to wear to the wedding. No, not the dress in an earlier thread. I reached a point where I feared I'd look like a giant crinkly aluminum ball in it instead of the sleek, golden goddess I intended. So I bought a circus tent… er, dress off the rack at David's Bridal. Which admittedly, from the front, looks pretty rockin'. From the side, it looks more like a … um … circus tent. But oh well.

Anyway, I resolved that since this is a quiet week at work, this is when I'd give up certain inflammatories. Caffeine and chocolate are out. Lots of raw foods are in. I also punted milk, because I kept getting a painful tummy every time I had ice cream or a bowl of cereal.

So I'm day two on no caffeine. Okay, if you count the Diet Coke I had yesterday to try to assuage some symptoms (which ended up being totally worthless, so not doing it today), I'm actually on day one, but in spirit, I'm on day two.

And I. am. miserable. My head is pounding so bad. And not just my forehead, it runs this nice little circuit along the base of my skull and around my hairline. I have a heat wrap on my shoulders right now that's helping part of it. I also want to puke my guts up. I hate my iron constitution and its unwillingness to hurl. Instead, I get this stupid guttural air burps. Pissing me off.

But here we are. I'm trying. And hopefully I'll continue to feel desperate enough to keep trying. One can only hope, right?

Entry 22 - "Whiny Pants," or "Every Day is a Chore, Dadgummit!"

Ya know, some days life is a tad daunting. I usually sleep a restless sleep, awakened by burning sensations or random pains, despite my night-time dosage of amitriptyline. The alarm goes off at 5 so I have time to do my exercise bike, or my muscles stiffen up all day (although honestly, I'm so exhausted lately I have been missing it more and more – self defeating, eh?). I'm out of the shower by 6, have makeup and work clothes on at 6:30, help get the kids wrangled while packing my lunch and having breakfast. Then I'm on the road and jockeying for position on the interstate to get to the office in a timely manner.

I spend the day in an office chair working at a computer, getting up often so I don't stiffen up from staying in the same position for too long.

I go home and there's the kid-wrangling through dinner, then if there's no choir practice or kid's activity, I put da boy to bed at 8:00, which can take an hour.

Then into bed myself, and it all starts over again.

Not bad really. I know a lot of moms who do a heckuva lot more than I do during the day.

And I hate to whine. Sometimes anyway. But I'm gonna whine here. Just doing this much has become hard. And I used to do so much more. But now, pulling myself out of bed is painful as well as exhausting. I stay in the shower too long some mornings just because the warm water on my muscles feels so damned good. I can't always grip the knife very well just to cut up my son's banana. My daughter's basically on her own except for dialog – "Got your violin? All of your homework done? Put on your coat!"

While I sit in my office chair I can expect back spasms, shoulder spasms, electric shocks, chest pains, heartburn, neck aches. Also on a good day energy drinks will actually keep me awake. On bad days, I doze off during meetings, and hard as I try, I just can't f*cking help it. It's humiliating.

Last Friday, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much Diet Dr. Mountain Dew I plugged into my gullet ("Hook it to my veeeeeeiiiiiiins!") I still nodded off several times during a packed-house industry meeting. When an opportunity came to leave the meeting early, I jumped on it so I wouldn't debase myself or my company any further.

In the evenings, I dread every moment I have to walk up or down stairs. Down because it hurts and I feel like gravity's gonna knock me over at any moment. Up because it kinda hurts, but more relevantly I feel like my legs are suddenly made of lead, or like I'm trying to walk upstairs while submerged in a pool of water. Kind of like in nightmares, when you're trying very hard to move quickly and you just can't? They refuse to work with me. And as much as I love our home, at these moments I curse owning a two-story house with a basement.

And at Alan's bedtime, sometimes he asks me to lay in the floor next to him. Every time he does, I pray he doesn't want anything after I'm down there, because it's damned hard to get up again.

And the weight. As I take these stupid fibro meds, my weight keeps piling on. Which makes movement even harder. I have another doctor's appointment on the 19th. I'm going to talk to him about trying to further refine my meds. Something's gotta make this better.

So yeah, I have my whiny pants on today.

Entry 21 - Snickers are on the 6th floor

I want to eat right now. I VERY BADLY want to eat right now. I got a tea instead.

Why am I so adamant about eating right now? Because I feel fraggin' miserable.

Fibro pain is shooting everywhere around my neck and back. My jaw hurts like hell. My legs feel like they're coated in concrete. I'm having trouble staying awake.

Food takes me away, if just for a minute.

Yes, I realize that's totally self-defeating. Oh well.

I'm gonna try very hard not to eat until dinner, but no guarantees.

Entry 20: My First Memory

Know what's funny? My earliest, earliest memory is about food. Specifically, highly unhealthy food.

True story.

I told Mom years ago about this memory I had. I wanted chocolate ice cream, and I wanted it bad. It was in the freezer of a short brown refrigerator, and I couldn't reach it. So I opened the fridge part of the appliance and climbed until I could reach the freezer door.

I can't remember if I got caught, or if I actually got the ice cream or anything. I just remember that I. Wanted. ICE CREAM.

Oh. I also remember I was only wearing my underwear. Mom and Dad had a hellacious time keeping clothes on me as a kid. They finally got me to at least keep my underpants on as a compromise.

So, apparently Mom and Dad owned the short brown fridge before we moved to the farm. Since we moved the day after my second birthday, and since I potty trained at a little over a year, it was sometime in that period.

(I know people say you can't have memories before like, five or six, but it's an incredibly common phenomenon in our family, so I think those "people" are mistaken.)

So how sick is that? My earliest memory was wanting, working my hardest, thinking creatively, to get to CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM AAAAAHHHH!!! GIMME GIMME!!!!!

Ah, sometimes nothing changes, eh?

I'm having a really hard time sticking to Weight Watchers. I want to do it, but I swear, I am having a helluva big problem with it. I'm getting plenty to eat. I'm spacing my meals and snacks out well.

But I don't get to stuff myself. I'm having carrots instead of popcorn, apples instead of chocolate bars.

Well, let me rephrase that – I shouldn't be stuffing myself. But occasionally I'll reach a time where I just can't stand it and something luscious and fattening will disappear.

I am my own worst enemy.

And know what I want now? CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM!!! Aaaahhhhhh!!!!!!!!

Entry 19 – A half pound is worth more than 75 cents

Dumb title, I know. It's a play on words, ya see, since I'm married to my lovely Brit boy. Half a pound? UK-US conversion rate? Yeah, screw it. Let's move on.

Anyway, I lost another half pound this week. Sounds like a pittance, but considering it was Halloween and candy abounded at our house, that half pound is worth a helluva lot to me.

I remember growing up, I hated summers. Why, you ask? Because I gained more weight in a summer than I gained during the school year. At least when I went to school, I couldn't have constant access to food. So while I'd maybe gain 12 – 20 pounds during the school year, I gained 20 – 30 over a summer.

Now I'm an adult. Except for hearings, I have that same constant access to food. And given it was just Halloween and the kids came back with a good haul (half of which is milk-laden and little dude can't eat), It's a wonder I don't weigh 900 pounds.

So the fact I lost half a pound. That actually means a lot to me.

That said, the fibro still sucks. After walking the kids around Halloween night, and carrying Alan for a block before the back and leg spasms were too bad to continue lugging that 40 pounds of childmeat around anymore, I was toast. Total toast. (Which is ironic, you see, because I can't eat toast cause o' the gluten.) It was by sheer force of will that I got up the next morning to do my exercise bike. Well, force of will and the knowledge that if I didn't, I'd be largely unable to move that day.

I still feel it. There's an aching in my knees, constant gnarling pain in my lower back, some shooting paints down my right leg. (There usually is in my left leg, so now at least they're on equal footing – HAHAHA footing. It's a pun).

Unrelated to Halloween, but probably related to fibro, I started a migraine last night, took a migraine pill, which helped for a while until the migraine exploded in the wee hours of the night. At 5 am I took another migraine pill, slept in a bit (skipping my exercise bike – paying for that already), and hauled my butt in with a migraine hangover.

This week has royally sucked.

Except for my half pound. That half pound really is worth a lot.