The Down Side of Up

There are times when being bipolar works to my advantage.  For instance, last Friday I ran about 10 errands, managed to clean the house, walk the dog, write 5 articles for SuzySaid, finish a draft for a magazine, draft 3 blog posts, bake cookies, make dinner and cart the kids around to their activities all before 5pm and was rearing to go that night.  It also worked great in college when I needed to stay up all night to study (yes dad, I did that occasionally) and definitely worked to my advantage when I had two kids under the age of two - neither who slept through the night - and a husband who traveled every week. 

One of the disadvantages, however, is that I have no choice about when these "ups" are going to hit.  Last night, for instance, was not great timing. I slept for maybe a total of 2 hours - none of which was uninterrupted. I sat up, wide awake until 3:30am.  Once I laid down  it wasn't working so switched from bed to couch to guest bed to guest couch without ever falling into a deep sleep.  Sometimes I even eat during these periods of wakefulness, something I've almost managed to mitigate in the past few months (last night I ate two granola bars, however). I have no idea how long this will last or when I will crash, but I know eventually I will.  In the mean time, however, I have to figure out ways to both use this unbelievable amount of energy, as well as contain it when necessary (like during my 4 hour Leadership Charlottesville session this afternoon, for instance).  

Of course there are ways to treat these manic episodes pharmacologically.  Through the years, because I'm not truly diagnosed as bi-polar, but rather cyclyothymic, we've determined it works best for me to be solely on an anti-depressant.  I'm thankful for this, as mood stabilizers, quite frankly, scare the hell out of me (lithium? no thank you).  I've been dealing with this for many years so I've learned to keep my episodes in check fairly well, but occasionally I find myself talking too much and too fast (even more than usual), buying a few more pairs of shoes than I should, or, of course, eating uncontrollably.  


And if I don't catch myself I can always count on the Spicy Chicken to say something "helpful" like "Are you feeling a little manic today?" which always pisses me off....because he's right.

"Nothing tastes as good...

...as skinny feels."  This quote was made famous by Kate Moss a few years back.  I'm not up for debating Kate Moss but I would argue that it's not so much being skinny that feels so good, but rather being healthy and being strong.  

(Plus, I'm fairly sure if given a few minutes I could come up with a list of things that come pretty close to tasting as good, if not better, than being skinny).  

This is what feeling good looks like to me!

Healthy, strong and thin! 

I got up this morning with a renewed sense of what I needed to do and how I needed to get there (making a public promise to get back on track is a fairly strong  motivator).  Still, I found myself calculating the time it would take me to get everything I needed to get done before I could  crawl back into bed. That desire, however, disappeared quickly while at Clay this morning.  

I'm not going to lie - getting back on that bike wasn't easy.  I struggled through some of the challenges, but it felt great.  I worked off over 500 calories and walked out of there ready to start checking things off my list.  

Here's the crazy part - what made me feel so great wasn't  a Diet Coke (I haven't had one) or the leftover donut from Carter Mountain (it's still there) or a few extra hours of sleep (though I could still use those) - but rather eating a healthy breakfast and exercising. Go figure.

Who feels good now, Kate Moss?

Derailed

One of the hard parts about writing like this is that you 

have to admit when you're struggling... 

I've gotten a little off track the past few weeks.  I have a million excuses as to why (marriage, kids, dogs, friends, work, life, commitments, laziness....) but in reality none of them really matter.  These things will always be there in some way, and unless I find a way to work around them my weight problem will always be with me, too. 

I've spent hours justifying to myself that donut that I ate at Carter Mountain today - the class I missed last week for a work meeting - and the extra cocktail (or two) I had during the UVA game...  What it comes down to, however  is that if I truly want to change I have to keep my priorities straight - with with my health coming first.  I lost track of that a few years back and look where that got me.

I've even found myself thinking "Well, I've only gained back a few pounds..." Only a few pounds???  It took me weeks to lose those pounds!  Plus, it's SO much more than that.  I have no energy, I'm not sleeping well, and I feel all around crappier than I have in months.  How in the world did I Iet this happen? It's pretty easy, actually, which is why I need to stop myself RIGHT NOW. 

So, I'm vowing today to get back on track.  I promise to:

1. Not miss any more classes with Hyam this program 
2. Start logging my food intake on a regular basis
3. Limit alcohol consumption 
4. Make my health and fitness a top priority in my life, and
5. Get off this plateau and back on track!

It feels good just to say it - 

imagine how great it will be when I do it! 

Discovery

I made an amazing discovery today...I have ribs!  

Ok, you're right, I do have a biology degree so I actually knew they were there somewhere all along protecting my lungs, but I hadn't seen them in years so I was having a hard time believing it.   But there they were today, poking out at me.

Ok, again, you're right.  "poking out" might be somewhat of an exaggeration, but when they've been covered under so much for so long, any view of them feels pretty major, so can we go with "almost poking out"? Please?

Wow - if I keep doing this exercise thing I may even find out I have hip bones.  I seem to remember seeing them back in the 90's - what are the chances they're still there? 

Feeling Comfortable in My Genes

This is a post I wrote a few weeks ago when my mom was visiting. 

 I wasn't sure if I should post it or not. Still not sure...

Today was a momentous one for me in relation to my weight loss in a couple different ways.

First, you know that pair of jeans in your closet that doesn't fit you anymore but you still hang on to because you absolutely love them and you're just so sure you're going to be able to fit into them again?  I fit into mine today!  The cutest pair of Banana Republic cropped boyfriend jeans from over 6 years ago that I wore only once (before seeing my gorgeous, skinny neighbor in the same pair and realized they didn't look anything like that on me) and vowed I'd get my big 'ol butt in them properly some day.  Well, today was that day!

Secondly, it was the first time I'd seen my mom since I started this weight loss journey five months ago.  Let me first state that I adore my mother with all of my heart.   However, in addition to being wonderful, kind, caring, thin, and beautiful she also has a slight obsession with weight (namely mine).  It's kind of difficult to write about because not only do I not want to hurt her feelings, but it's been a contentious issue for many years - one that rather than argue about we tend to sweep under the rug. I am only brave enough to write this now because I know she can't read it as the only computer in our household happens to be in my hot little hands. Sorry mom.

Don't be a hater though. My mom's mild preoccupation with my weight is truly out of love. She wants me to be happy and healthy - there's nothing wrong with that.  Considering my genetic make-up it's normal to be concerned about what could've happened to me if I were to have continued to spiral out of control (hyper-tension, heart disease, cancer....and that's just the first page of my dad's medical history!).  Sometimes, however, the way in which she expressed her motherly love felt more like disappointment to me that it was meant to. 

What it comes down to is this: my parents raised a perfectionist.  I was this way not because they expected perfection from me (they didn't), but because that is how I was (am!) wired.  When I got older, however, I found myself doing everything possible to shake that damn perfectionist because I had realized something...I was not, nor would I ever be perfect.  Once I realized this it occurred to me that no matter what I did I was obviously going to let everyone down so might as well just become the antithesis of perfect which, to me at the time, was fat.

That didn't go over real well for Joycy because a) she loves me b) she loves my family c) she knew I was hurting and using the fat to hide that - she's my mom after all, she can see through anything (even layers of adipose tissue!).  So when my few extra pounds appeared to be turning into an extra 40 pounds she took notice and attempted to help.  The only problem was - what's that old addage - you can't help someone if they don't want to be helped?  That was me.

Things are different now, though, and I just couldn't wait to show her that her little girl was done hiding. She was, not surprisingly, thrilled to see the changes.  

Yep, even at 37 years old a daughter still craves her mother's approval.