Find my new writing home at jazzfiend1000.wordpress.com.
Please be warned- if you don't like negativity, harsh words, or just plain rantings, then don't read. I DO NOT, under ANY circumstances, want comments telling me that "everything is okay", or "do you need to talk?". This is a new blog dealing with different experiences than this blog, so please, just deal!
That is all. See you on wordpress!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Winning the Battle of the Bulge
Date started Weight Watchers: January 7, 2009
Weight loss to date: 7.4 pounds
I thought today, as I stepped on the scale at weigh-in, about my progress on Weight Watchers this time. When I did WW in 2002-2003, I lost 20 pounds to be slim for my wedding. Which I was. And then slowly over the years since, I put all of it back on. I got comfortable. I got lazy. Or busy.
So when I stepped up there today and saw I had only lost 0.8, I was a little disappointed. But then I realized something that caught me at the grocery store last week.
I like to think of my weight loss in terms of food. Like "how many cans of soda have I lost?" or "how many steaks have I lost?".
In that respect, I've lost 30 sticks of butter.
Go to the grocery store and pick up a five pound bag of potatoes. Add 2.4 pounds to THAT. That's a lot of extra stuff to be carrying around on your body. And I'm glad to be rid of it.
I'm now in the gym 6 days a week. For real. I take Tuesdays off, as it's my weigh-in day, and I just give myself a little break.
I'm also back at Pilates, and hopefully, when summer comes, Rob and I will be back in a yoga class.
I don't drink alcohol, or regular soda anymore. I don't snack at parties (unless I'm REALLY hungry). I choose wisely when we dine out.
The big differences are in the way I look and feel. I can always tell I'm losing weight because my knees and wrists become much more bony again. My thighs have lost most of the cellulite that clung to them. I've dropped a pant size. My waist is getting tiny, and my face is looking slim. The best part, I feel great.
Why haven't I'd been this good to myself in the past?
Weight loss to date: 7.4 pounds
I thought today, as I stepped on the scale at weigh-in, about my progress on Weight Watchers this time. When I did WW in 2002-2003, I lost 20 pounds to be slim for my wedding. Which I was. And then slowly over the years since, I put all of it back on. I got comfortable. I got lazy. Or busy.
So when I stepped up there today and saw I had only lost 0.8, I was a little disappointed. But then I realized something that caught me at the grocery store last week.
I like to think of my weight loss in terms of food. Like "how many cans of soda have I lost?" or "how many steaks have I lost?".
In that respect, I've lost 30 sticks of butter.
Go to the grocery store and pick up a five pound bag of potatoes. Add 2.4 pounds to THAT. That's a lot of extra stuff to be carrying around on your body. And I'm glad to be rid of it.
I'm now in the gym 6 days a week. For real. I take Tuesdays off, as it's my weigh-in day, and I just give myself a little break.
I'm also back at Pilates, and hopefully, when summer comes, Rob and I will be back in a yoga class.
I don't drink alcohol, or regular soda anymore. I don't snack at parties (unless I'm REALLY hungry). I choose wisely when we dine out.
The big differences are in the way I look and feel. I can always tell I'm losing weight because my knees and wrists become much more bony again. My thighs have lost most of the cellulite that clung to them. I've dropped a pant size. My waist is getting tiny, and my face is looking slim. The best part, I feel great.
Why haven't I'd been this good to myself in the past?
Friday, March 13, 2009
Acceptance
Hello, gentle reader.
It's been too long since I've written. But honestly, I haven't felt much like writing.
The winter included some very dark months for me, literally and figuratively. I wasn't myself, from about November until February, when I slowly started to come out of my cocoon of self-doubt and low self-esteem. Weight Watchers, visits to Lucia, and 5x/week visits to the gym have helped to clear my mind and allow me to function in the world again.
If you will allow me to get personal, I will inform you that the general malaise over the past months is because of our inability to conceive a baby. I was tired of every woman I know conceiving and not me. So, I disappeared from the world for a while. I sat many nights at home, alone (Rob was at school), thinking about our predicament, not speaking to anyone for months. Fielding negative thoughts (they were many in number) and trying to get around the inevitable question..."What if we CAN NOT conceive?"
I decided to no longer be a victim of my own negativity. I called my doctor. She is a WONDERFUL doctor. For the first time in my life, I feel that I have a physician who actually listens to my concerns, doesn't interrupt with her thoughts, and generally cares about my well-being. Plus, having gold-plated health care does help.
Rob and I went to see her together, and she promptly referred us to Dr. Figge, the leading fertility specialist in town. Our appointment is Tuesday afternoon, and I am anxiously awaiting this visit.
For once, I finally feel that we are getting somewhere. That there are answers to questions I've been going over and over for 18 months. There are so many factors as to why we may not be conceiving. He will address them, test us both beyond our wildest imaginations, and then... we'll just know.
I mentioned our gold-plated health care. I don't exaggerate. Augustana greatly cares for their employees and their families. We have found out that our insurance will cover (after the deductible) 4 retrievals of eggs, and 6 treatments of In-vitro. Which, in case you didn't know, is HUGE.
And then, if it turns out I don't even make eggs... then we call the adoption lawyers.
There is a bit of freedom, in knowing all of this. As if we are no longer in charge of our own destiny. I've never been one to believe in a higher spiritual power, and have always trusted science over anything else. But I'm finally getting to a point where I can just accept it. I know I will be a mom. I greatly would like to have the experience of pregnancy. However, if that is not in the cards for me... well... then I'll just deal.
It's been too long since I've written. But honestly, I haven't felt much like writing.
The winter included some very dark months for me, literally and figuratively. I wasn't myself, from about November until February, when I slowly started to come out of my cocoon of self-doubt and low self-esteem. Weight Watchers, visits to Lucia, and 5x/week visits to the gym have helped to clear my mind and allow me to function in the world again.
If you will allow me to get personal, I will inform you that the general malaise over the past months is because of our inability to conceive a baby. I was tired of every woman I know conceiving and not me. So, I disappeared from the world for a while. I sat many nights at home, alone (Rob was at school), thinking about our predicament, not speaking to anyone for months. Fielding negative thoughts (they were many in number) and trying to get around the inevitable question..."What if we CAN NOT conceive?"
I decided to no longer be a victim of my own negativity. I called my doctor. She is a WONDERFUL doctor. For the first time in my life, I feel that I have a physician who actually listens to my concerns, doesn't interrupt with her thoughts, and generally cares about my well-being. Plus, having gold-plated health care does help.
Rob and I went to see her together, and she promptly referred us to Dr. Figge, the leading fertility specialist in town. Our appointment is Tuesday afternoon, and I am anxiously awaiting this visit.
For once, I finally feel that we are getting somewhere. That there are answers to questions I've been going over and over for 18 months. There are so many factors as to why we may not be conceiving. He will address them, test us both beyond our wildest imaginations, and then... we'll just know.
I mentioned our gold-plated health care. I don't exaggerate. Augustana greatly cares for their employees and their families. We have found out that our insurance will cover (after the deductible) 4 retrievals of eggs, and 6 treatments of In-vitro. Which, in case you didn't know, is HUGE.
And then, if it turns out I don't even make eggs... then we call the adoption lawyers.
There is a bit of freedom, in knowing all of this. As if we are no longer in charge of our own destiny. I've never been one to believe in a higher spiritual power, and have always trusted science over anything else. But I'm finally getting to a point where I can just accept it. I know I will be a mom. I greatly would like to have the experience of pregnancy. However, if that is not in the cards for me... well... then I'll just deal.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Inspired
You will never know.
Not how many countless nights I waited for your call.
How many pages and pens wrote for you.
How I spent years wondering what would've happened had we had just one chance.
I dreamt of you.
Feel the blush on my skin when you are near.
Feel as young as I was.
Wonder what life would be like had you never invaded my youth.
Years spent pining for the boy who could never see truth.
_______________________________________________
I want to know you.
Feel the drunk power of your beauty.
Taste the wine on your lips.
And feel the soft silence of our union.
Birth the passion we once knew.
The silence holds you, deep in the light, close.
Alone.
So much pain, you hold close to you.
Yet it's not who you are.
In the heat, I feel your glow.
Understand your presence and know
exactly how long you've wanted to show
the nature of your true self.
Deeply wanting and knowing me.
_______________________________________
Back to Earth,
I must come.
Because thinking of you,
my feet lose the ground,
and I am in a place no one can touch.
A place where I am at one,
at peace, tranquil and so right.
Luminate the world, you do, with one smile,
or sound, or touch of your hand and I
am lost within your walls.
I escape, break free of a world
where boundaries exist, and you
are always there. With those eyes.
Dressed in black, just as I remember you.
But soon, the darkness recedes.
My feet touch the ground.
You are gone.
Not how many countless nights I waited for your call.
How many pages and pens wrote for you.
How I spent years wondering what would've happened had we had just one chance.
I dreamt of you.
Feel the blush on my skin when you are near.
Feel as young as I was.
Wonder what life would be like had you never invaded my youth.
Years spent pining for the boy who could never see truth.
_______________________________________________
I want to know you.
Feel the drunk power of your beauty.
Taste the wine on your lips.
And feel the soft silence of our union.
Birth the passion we once knew.
The silence holds you, deep in the light, close.
Alone.
So much pain, you hold close to you.
Yet it's not who you are.
In the heat, I feel your glow.
Understand your presence and know
exactly how long you've wanted to show
the nature of your true self.
Deeply wanting and knowing me.
_______________________________________
Back to Earth,
I must come.
Because thinking of you,
my feet lose the ground,
and I am in a place no one can touch.
A place where I am at one,
at peace, tranquil and so right.
Luminate the world, you do, with one smile,
or sound, or touch of your hand and I
am lost within your walls.
I escape, break free of a world
where boundaries exist, and you
are always there. With those eyes.
Dressed in black, just as I remember you.
But soon, the darkness recedes.
My feet touch the ground.
You are gone.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Battle of the Bulge- Part II
Greetings friends. For those loyal to Bury my Lovely, most of you know of my awful moods as of late. While I've been in therapy for a few weeks, I knew something else had to change. I then saw a photo of me posted on my friend Melissa's Facebook page, and was shocked at how CHUBBY I looked. "That can't be!", I thought. "How in the world have I gotten so...large?"
In the fall of 2002 and spring of 2003, Rob and I were members of Weight Watchers. We had just moved to Cincinnati and were about to get married in the fall of 2003. Neither of us wanted to be chubby for our wedding day. I dropped 20 pounds, and Rob dropped 40. We looked great. We felt great. And we looked sharp on our wedding day.
And of course, since September 6, 2003, we have put back on a few pounds. I toyed with 8 pounds for about 5 years. Then I started my own theatre company and bought a house all in 3 months. All 20 pounds I took off those years ago have been put back on my body. Late nights drinking Off the Rail and eating melanges at the Blue Cat probably did me in last summer.
Recently, I stepped back on the scale and gasped that I had put every single pound back on that I took off in 2003. It just snuck up on me. And that, my friends, is what made me realize I needed to do something about it.
This past fall, Rob joined WW through Augustana, and has dropped 15 pounds so far. He looks so much better, and says he feels great, too. So last week, I joined up again, determined that I was to be chubby no longer. Today was my weigh-in, and I lost 3 pounds this week!
I already feel better physically. I work out 4-5 times a week at RIFAC, and have been sticking to the plan. I'll admit, I was REALLY hungry last week. But after day 6 or so, your body just starts getting used to the way you eat. I'm no longer hungry, and am satisfied to eat the proper portions and lower-fat options.
However, the best part about all of this is that I'm starting to feel better emotionally, too. When I get to my top weight, I notice I just feel terrible. But now, even after only 3 pounds, I feel more focused. I have more energy. And I'm happier. Who woulda thought?
And to think, I'm only 15 pounds away from my size 8's. I can do it!
In the fall of 2002 and spring of 2003, Rob and I were members of Weight Watchers. We had just moved to Cincinnati and were about to get married in the fall of 2003. Neither of us wanted to be chubby for our wedding day. I dropped 20 pounds, and Rob dropped 40. We looked great. We felt great. And we looked sharp on our wedding day.
And of course, since September 6, 2003, we have put back on a few pounds. I toyed with 8 pounds for about 5 years. Then I started my own theatre company and bought a house all in 3 months. All 20 pounds I took off those years ago have been put back on my body. Late nights drinking Off the Rail and eating melanges at the Blue Cat probably did me in last summer.
Recently, I stepped back on the scale and gasped that I had put every single pound back on that I took off in 2003. It just snuck up on me. And that, my friends, is what made me realize I needed to do something about it.
This past fall, Rob joined WW through Augustana, and has dropped 15 pounds so far. He looks so much better, and says he feels great, too. So last week, I joined up again, determined that I was to be chubby no longer. Today was my weigh-in, and I lost 3 pounds this week!
I already feel better physically. I work out 4-5 times a week at RIFAC, and have been sticking to the plan. I'll admit, I was REALLY hungry last week. But after day 6 or so, your body just starts getting used to the way you eat. I'm no longer hungry, and am satisfied to eat the proper portions and lower-fat options.
However, the best part about all of this is that I'm starting to feel better emotionally, too. When I get to my top weight, I notice I just feel terrible. But now, even after only 3 pounds, I feel more focused. I have more energy. And I'm happier. Who woulda thought?
And to think, I'm only 15 pounds away from my size 8's. I can do it!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Anonymous strikes again!
Just recieved this little gem in my inbox in response to my previous post...
"Did you ever think that Jesus might be blocking your pregnancy because he knows that you having a child would take all of the attention away from you? Something that would appear impossible for you to deal with. Some of us really want to be moms... Some people want to be pregnant so the world will lump more attention on them."
First off, Anonymous, only cowards and fools can't come clean and tell someone off with their real name. Second, I have Statcounter on my blog, so I know WHO you are and WHERE you're writing from (P&G sure employs some assholes these days).
Lastly, your logic is backward and contrary to itself. If you read this blog, or know me at all, you would know I'm an atheist who doesn't believe in any higher spiritual power. Jesus was a man, a carpenter, and I doubt he has any qualms with whether or not I have a child. He's dead. Also, your sentence reads that Jesus DOESN'T want me to have a baby because he WANTS me to have more attention. Is that what you're saying? Or that having a baby will take all the attention off of me? Of course it would! I could give two shits whether or not more 'attention is lumped' on me. All I want is to be a mother. And how in the world does my happiness at having a child have ANYTHING to do with you? Obviously you don't know me at all.
If you'd like to continue this conversation like a grown-up, I'll be waiting. Meanwhile you can hide behind an anonymous moniker knowing that I'm watching every move you make.
Have a nice day.
"Did you ever think that Jesus might be blocking your pregnancy because he knows that you having a child would take all of the attention away from you? Something that would appear impossible for you to deal with. Some of us really want to be moms... Some people want to be pregnant so the world will lump more attention on them."
First off, Anonymous, only cowards and fools can't come clean and tell someone off with their real name. Second, I have Statcounter on my blog, so I know WHO you are and WHERE you're writing from (P&G sure employs some assholes these days).
Lastly, your logic is backward and contrary to itself. If you read this blog, or know me at all, you would know I'm an atheist who doesn't believe in any higher spiritual power. Jesus was a man, a carpenter, and I doubt he has any qualms with whether or not I have a child. He's dead. Also, your sentence reads that Jesus DOESN'T want me to have a baby because he WANTS me to have more attention. Is that what you're saying? Or that having a baby will take all the attention off of me? Of course it would! I could give two shits whether or not more 'attention is lumped' on me. All I want is to be a mother. And how in the world does my happiness at having a child have ANYTHING to do with you? Obviously you don't know me at all.
If you'd like to continue this conversation like a grown-up, I'll be waiting. Meanwhile you can hide behind an anonymous moniker knowing that I'm watching every move you make.
Have a nice day.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
The Devil you know.
Met with Lucia (my therapist) on Friday afternoon after a long hiatus.
You, dear reader, know of my general malaise as of late. When I described my frustrations and sadness, she asked me general medical questions, which, I'm sure, she is required to do by law.
She asked, first, what was going on. I immediately burst into tears. I told her of my frustrations at the fact that I was not yet pregnant, and that my old friend Lesley was. Here, a woman with menstrual problems her entire adolescent and adult life, now expecting. I try to so hard to understand, yet it is so random. Why can a person weighing nearly 400 pounds, chain-smoke Lucky's, and practically shoot heroin through their eyes get pregnant, and I can't? I often feel that the universe is just laughing at me. Les is pregnant, my massage therapist is pregnant, lots of Facebook friends are pregnant, and to top it all off, 6 out of 8 mothers in my Kindermusik class: pregnant. Maybe I'm just more susceptible to it all.
Anyway, I said that I was so very happy for Les, for Mel (massage therapist). But the sadness outweighs the happiness for them. Because I'm sad for myself. I want it to be me. How can I lie and not say that?
Lucia asked me pointed questions about how I was sleeping (shitty), concentrating (worse), and motivation (in the bowels of Hell). She looked at me with hooded eyes and said "You know where I'm going with this, don't you?".
"Of course," I say. "I'm depressed".
And of course, I knew I was. Am. But it's different this time. When I was diagnosed in 2001 with depression, I could barely get out of bed. I would lay in bed for hours, just weeping at the misery I felt. This time, it's more like just a bad mood. Like I've had PMS since October. Flustered, exhausted, anxious, pissed, low self-esteem, unmotivated. She calls what I have dysthimia, which is a "low-grade depression". And that is exactly what it feels like. Just sort-of...off.
She asked of my anxiety. I said it was more energy. That I felt without a purpose. (Of course what sucks is that I'm so ready with the purpose of being a mom, but that will change) She said "it sounds like you're missing out on something. You need purpose to thrive. You need your creativity to live". But without motivation, I sit at home and do nothing. I long for Spring, when I can get out to take photos without fear of hypothermia. To garden. To walk my dogs. Lucia says I need an outlet for my creativity, which I knew, but it always somehow means more coming from her.
She gave me four assignments to do before I see her again next week. I won't share them with you. For my eyes only.
The weekend felt different, after seeing her. Because now I knew what I was dealing with. For months, I read these books. Self-help books. Which, in my opinion, are just trash. I tried reading Power of Now (sorry Petra, I couldn't understand it). I tried the Law of Attraction (sorry Dana, when you're in a foul mood to begin with, it just doesn't cut it). And I kept saying to myself "why in Sam Hell can't I pull myself out of this?". Well, it turns out there is a little chemical imbalance going on up top. Which may be why there isn't any action going on in the underbelly. However, Lucia feels if I continue to work on the things I'm doing, I won't need anti-depressants. I think she is right. It doesn't feel like that anyways.
And now I know. I've dealt with twice before. And I beat it. And I will do it again.
You, dear reader, know of my general malaise as of late. When I described my frustrations and sadness, she asked me general medical questions, which, I'm sure, she is required to do by law.
She asked, first, what was going on. I immediately burst into tears. I told her of my frustrations at the fact that I was not yet pregnant, and that my old friend Lesley was. Here, a woman with menstrual problems her entire adolescent and adult life, now expecting. I try to so hard to understand, yet it is so random. Why can a person weighing nearly 400 pounds, chain-smoke Lucky's, and practically shoot heroin through their eyes get pregnant, and I can't? I often feel that the universe is just laughing at me. Les is pregnant, my massage therapist is pregnant, lots of Facebook friends are pregnant, and to top it all off, 6 out of 8 mothers in my Kindermusik class: pregnant. Maybe I'm just more susceptible to it all.
Anyway, I said that I was so very happy for Les, for Mel (massage therapist). But the sadness outweighs the happiness for them. Because I'm sad for myself. I want it to be me. How can I lie and not say that?
Lucia asked me pointed questions about how I was sleeping (shitty), concentrating (worse), and motivation (in the bowels of Hell). She looked at me with hooded eyes and said "You know where I'm going with this, don't you?".
"Of course," I say. "I'm depressed".
And of course, I knew I was. Am. But it's different this time. When I was diagnosed in 2001 with depression, I could barely get out of bed. I would lay in bed for hours, just weeping at the misery I felt. This time, it's more like just a bad mood. Like I've had PMS since October. Flustered, exhausted, anxious, pissed, low self-esteem, unmotivated. She calls what I have dysthimia, which is a "low-grade depression". And that is exactly what it feels like. Just sort-of...off.
She asked of my anxiety. I said it was more energy. That I felt without a purpose. (Of course what sucks is that I'm so ready with the purpose of being a mom, but that will change) She said "it sounds like you're missing out on something. You need purpose to thrive. You need your creativity to live". But without motivation, I sit at home and do nothing. I long for Spring, when I can get out to take photos without fear of hypothermia. To garden. To walk my dogs. Lucia says I need an outlet for my creativity, which I knew, but it always somehow means more coming from her.
She gave me four assignments to do before I see her again next week. I won't share them with you. For my eyes only.
The weekend felt different, after seeing her. Because now I knew what I was dealing with. For months, I read these books. Self-help books. Which, in my opinion, are just trash. I tried reading Power of Now (sorry Petra, I couldn't understand it). I tried the Law of Attraction (sorry Dana, when you're in a foul mood to begin with, it just doesn't cut it). And I kept saying to myself "why in Sam Hell can't I pull myself out of this?". Well, it turns out there is a little chemical imbalance going on up top. Which may be why there isn't any action going on in the underbelly. However, Lucia feels if I continue to work on the things I'm doing, I won't need anti-depressants. I think she is right. It doesn't feel like that anyways.
And now I know. I've dealt with twice before. And I beat it. And I will do it again.
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