Now featuring a less pretentious blog title!!
Last night, I read Quilting for Dummies cover to cover. A lot of the particulars I was wondering about during the design phase for my first quilt were answered. Like the long tradition of stubbornness in my family, I only read instructions when I absolutely have to. I went online and snooped around, researching everything from the most breathable batting to how much people sell them for.
There is a quilt on Etsy for $6,000. SIX GRAND.
I'm a long, long way from selling anything, though the foray onto Etsy wasn't a complete bust. People make all kinds of things by quilting. I'll avoid the "holiday vests," thanks and you're welcome. But wall hanging panels intrigued me. They can be small - the size of a standard piece of notebook paper - or big - like the giant annoying, canvas stretched engagement photos you'll have to burn during your inevitable divorce. It's pretty cool what people can do with some fabric and A LOT of time. I'd love to make some modern things, like recreating my favorate artists' works, but "Cherubs In the Beginning in oil paint, chalk, and water color on tree bark" (yes, I made that up) will have to wait a while, too.
I think quilting was a good choice for me. All that artistic creative my art teacher told me never to lose has been quite lost for a long time, and I'm ready to return to it. I'm still fidgetty and impatient, wanting to fly right through to the finished product, but this will teach me some patience, I think. I hope. The more I come off my anxiety and anti-depressant meds, the more I need distraction. I've come a long way on that journey. I'm not cured; I'll always have what I have. In fact, the older I get, the more intense those bad times seem. As a teenager, things seemed like the end of the world. As an adult, they really can be in a sense. At 16, being fat was unpopular, not enough clothes in my size, and a boy deterrent. At 28, it's a diabetes type 2 diagnosis and heart palpitations. I want to avoid those obviously. There is also the interaction factor. In high school, everyone was hopped up on raging hormones. Tempers flared, girls sobbed - it was a cauldron of "Like, OH MY GOD, WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!?!" It can seem like that as an adult, but we can all hope we've matured enough not to rage against anyone when it happens. I don't have the necessary tools to always filter my interactions with others or my reactions to situations. It's been havoc on my adult life.
Luckily, I'm at least as good as Pavlov's dogs. I've learned my triggers, I know at least what portion of the manic spectrum my reaction will come from based on tiny little signs in my physical movement and thought direction, and I can brace myself and warn others accordingly. Sometimes, the strength it takes to pull in the reigns, both on outward reactions (30% of the time) and the inner hurricane (70%)is exhausting, and I no longer sleep to escape the world; I sleep to rest from managing it. Even then, I can control my dreams. Bad thigns start to happen, and I can choose to follow along out of curiosity or change it entirely, with full knowledge that it is a dream. I know a good portion of people can this, but when your brain is a battlefield in the waking hours, having to control dreams too is... stressful.
Ah well. Good Morning, Monday - the populace agrees, Fuck you.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Weight Loss Update - Set Back But Not Failure
Well, that didn't work.
I don't how long it is going to take to get it through my head - my body is very sensitive. It doesn't like big sweeping changes or chemical influences. (Unless it's Xanax. I need my Xanax.) The HCG drops weren't all that bad. They DID help with controlling hunger. Others might not have any of the problems I did, of course. I felt... stuffed. Not "Oh, I only get 250 calories this meal? That's okay. I'm stuffed!" That, I could have handled. I felt sloshy stuffed, that "I've had 25 weak beers - I'm not even drunk (rip off!), just sloshing liquid everywhere" feeling. I don't drink beer for that reason, so I'm not going to continue taking a chemical that does either. The daily nausea was too much.
On a really personal note, my period stopped. Now this reaction is likely a Me thing. If I get a sniffle, I'm late a week until my sinuses dry up. If I change my eating habits, from about 3,000 calories a day (my standard and why I'm fat), to 1000 or under, no period. I don't know about you, but when my period is late, I'm miserable. I'd rather have it and know that A) I'm not pregnant. Yay! and B) It will be over soon and take with it the bloating, cravings, moodiness, etc. The sooner, the better. For a minute, I almost thought I was pregnant due to the nausea and other symptoms. I am not, thankfully, and I don't want to be on anything that will make me feel that way.
When I was researching the HCG Diet, I saw people who have had success on it scoffing at doctors who encouraged a 1,000 calorie a day diet over the 500 calorie protocol. One thing they all had in common was the desire to lose as much weight as fast as possible. There were people who were actually saying, "You've only lost 15 pounds this week? Drop your calories and lose 25 pounds like I did! Those doctors just don't understand the science of it." Now, I've dealt with doctors, and they can be God-complex assholes with no bedside manner, but I'm fairly certain most know a thing or two about the biology of the human body. Not to mention the main clinical trials and studies for this diet were done in the 1950s. We've come a long way since then. Twenty-five pounds in one week just isn't normal; I don't care who you are. If it works for them and they can keep it off, let me know ten years from now and I'll happy dance with you.
So now what? You mean do what they've told me to do all along? Crap.
Okay, fine. Vegetables, fruits, portion control, drink water, and exercise. The one plan no one really wants to follow is the only way I'll likely be able to go. No more pills or chemicals, no more pregnancy hormones are going in my body. It's time to simply be smart. I don't have to be a scientist to know a fast food burger is not the healthy option for lunch. This is the new plan: eat better foods and move around more.
I've also decided to start a hobby. I picked sewing because it's something I've always wanted to do. I'm good with distractions, and learning something new, being creative again, and learning to focus on something different will go a long way in keeping me out of the kitchen. I've also looked up events and places in the area. I love museums and art galleries.
To be at my healthy weight (for age, height, blah, blah, blah), I need to lose 140 lbs. I NEED TO LOSE AN ENTIRE PERSON. It won't take 3 months. More like 1 year or two, and that's with dedication. But hey, I've got time - "If the Lord's willin' and the creek don't rise" as I've heard. Little by little.
I'm going to be just fine. :)
I don't how long it is going to take to get it through my head - my body is very sensitive. It doesn't like big sweeping changes or chemical influences. (Unless it's Xanax. I need my Xanax.) The HCG drops weren't all that bad. They DID help with controlling hunger. Others might not have any of the problems I did, of course. I felt... stuffed. Not "Oh, I only get 250 calories this meal? That's okay. I'm stuffed!" That, I could have handled. I felt sloshy stuffed, that "I've had 25 weak beers - I'm not even drunk (rip off!), just sloshing liquid everywhere" feeling. I don't drink beer for that reason, so I'm not going to continue taking a chemical that does either. The daily nausea was too much.
On a really personal note, my period stopped. Now this reaction is likely a Me thing. If I get a sniffle, I'm late a week until my sinuses dry up. If I change my eating habits, from about 3,000 calories a day (my standard and why I'm fat), to 1000 or under, no period. I don't know about you, but when my period is late, I'm miserable. I'd rather have it and know that A) I'm not pregnant. Yay! and B) It will be over soon and take with it the bloating, cravings, moodiness, etc. The sooner, the better. For a minute, I almost thought I was pregnant due to the nausea and other symptoms. I am not, thankfully, and I don't want to be on anything that will make me feel that way.
When I was researching the HCG Diet, I saw people who have had success on it scoffing at doctors who encouraged a 1,000 calorie a day diet over the 500 calorie protocol. One thing they all had in common was the desire to lose as much weight as fast as possible. There were people who were actually saying, "You've only lost 15 pounds this week? Drop your calories and lose 25 pounds like I did! Those doctors just don't understand the science of it." Now, I've dealt with doctors, and they can be God-complex assholes with no bedside manner, but I'm fairly certain most know a thing or two about the biology of the human body. Not to mention the main clinical trials and studies for this diet were done in the 1950s. We've come a long way since then. Twenty-five pounds in one week just isn't normal; I don't care who you are. If it works for them and they can keep it off, let me know ten years from now and I'll happy dance with you.
So now what? You mean do what they've told me to do all along? Crap.
Okay, fine. Vegetables, fruits, portion control, drink water, and exercise. The one plan no one really wants to follow is the only way I'll likely be able to go. No more pills or chemicals, no more pregnancy hormones are going in my body. It's time to simply be smart. I don't have to be a scientist to know a fast food burger is not the healthy option for lunch. This is the new plan: eat better foods and move around more.
I've also decided to start a hobby. I picked sewing because it's something I've always wanted to do. I'm good with distractions, and learning something new, being creative again, and learning to focus on something different will go a long way in keeping me out of the kitchen. I've also looked up events and places in the area. I love museums and art galleries.
To be at my healthy weight (for age, height, blah, blah, blah), I need to lose 140 lbs. I NEED TO LOSE AN ENTIRE PERSON. It won't take 3 months. More like 1 year or two, and that's with dedication. But hey, I've got time - "If the Lord's willin' and the creek don't rise" as I've heard. Little by little.
I'm going to be just fine. :)
Monday, October 29, 2012
Yes, THAT diet...
Hello,
I'm not sure if anyone will read this, but I think it will help me in the long run to chronicle my actions. I decided to do the HCG Diet. For those of you who don't know what that is, HCG is the "pregnancy hormone." I am to take drops under my tongue three times a day with this HCG stuff. For two days, I load up on fatty foods - phase one. Phase two is a severely low calorie diet of 500 calories a day. Those 500 calories are made up of a very short list of food choices. (If you would like me to plainly explain the ins and outs and reasoning behind the diet, let me know.) Saturday and Sunday were my loading days. I was supposed to start the low calories today, but my spinach was, well, icky and dead about three days back. The bagged salad of Mom's I was going to use until pay day was also dead. All of which leads me to the conclusion that we should eat what is in our fridge more and go out less so everything doesn't die on us. I digress. Last night, I realized all of this too late to go buy anything. I decided to continue the drops and some loading today and start the low calories tomorrow. I have just enough in the bank to buy a giant thing of spinach. I have two apples that will suffice for tomorrow, and then Wednesday, I can go buy everything I need.
I've always been a fat kid, but this is the biggest I've ever been. If could be for a number of reasons. I sit in an office all day doing paperwork, never exercise, my depression meds and occasionally depressive episodes make weight loss difficult, and a boyfriend and his mother who insist I eat every cake or pie she makes. Not wanting to be rude to her, or him, I've eaten a lot this year we've been dating. Now, I've learned how to say no (perhaps a little too late, but that's a whole different blog.) I'm 28. If I don't start losing weight and taking preventative measures now, I will be in a bad situation by 30. I'm having trouble breathing and moving around now. I'd also like to quit smoking, but I feel that it would be stupid to attempt quitting the first week or two of a strict diet. I would implode. So instead, when I get paid, I'm going to buy these filter things I found. They go on the end of the built-in cigarette filter and take out more of the chemicals, etc, making it easier to breathe. I think if I start filtering more out, it'll be easier to transition to, well, plain air later. Too many people in my family die from pulmonary complications for me to continue smoking. And too many people in my family developed diabetes because of obesity.
Day One (Saturday):
I thought I'd like eating a lot... I did not. By Saturday night, I hated the thought of food. I'm not sure if the drops were working already to curb the appetite, or the fact that I HAD to eat made me not want to. Either way, I was glad the drops don't taste like urine or something. They are fairly tasteless, and I think they began to work pretty fast.
Day Two (Sunday):
So tired of eating!!! I looked it up online, and a lot of people say the load days, in retrospect, are the hardest. Being to fat, I feel bloated and "over-flowing" all the time any way, so I'm looking forward to eating less, to knowing exactly what I'll be eating, and not spending money on other food. Remind me in a week that I said this when I'm complaining about being hungry. :)
Day Three 10/29/12:
I'm supposed to be doing the low calorie thing, but have no funds for the food. I'll start it tomorrow. In the meantime, I must continue the drops today and load some more. My tummy is not happy. That's all I have to say about that.
Now that this blog - and some form of accountability - has been started, I will go back to work and find something to do. There's always a lull right before order days (tomorrow and Wednesday), but I feel certain I can find something.
About to get my skinny on,
R.
I'm not sure if anyone will read this, but I think it will help me in the long run to chronicle my actions. I decided to do the HCG Diet. For those of you who don't know what that is, HCG is the "pregnancy hormone." I am to take drops under my tongue three times a day with this HCG stuff. For two days, I load up on fatty foods - phase one. Phase two is a severely low calorie diet of 500 calories a day. Those 500 calories are made up of a very short list of food choices. (If you would like me to plainly explain the ins and outs and reasoning behind the diet, let me know.) Saturday and Sunday were my loading days. I was supposed to start the low calories today, but my spinach was, well, icky and dead about three days back. The bagged salad of Mom's I was going to use until pay day was also dead. All of which leads me to the conclusion that we should eat what is in our fridge more and go out less so everything doesn't die on us. I digress. Last night, I realized all of this too late to go buy anything. I decided to continue the drops and some loading today and start the low calories tomorrow. I have just enough in the bank to buy a giant thing of spinach. I have two apples that will suffice for tomorrow, and then Wednesday, I can go buy everything I need.
I've always been a fat kid, but this is the biggest I've ever been. If could be for a number of reasons. I sit in an office all day doing paperwork, never exercise, my depression meds and occasionally depressive episodes make weight loss difficult, and a boyfriend and his mother who insist I eat every cake or pie she makes. Not wanting to be rude to her, or him, I've eaten a lot this year we've been dating. Now, I've learned how to say no (perhaps a little too late, but that's a whole different blog.) I'm 28. If I don't start losing weight and taking preventative measures now, I will be in a bad situation by 30. I'm having trouble breathing and moving around now. I'd also like to quit smoking, but I feel that it would be stupid to attempt quitting the first week or two of a strict diet. I would implode. So instead, when I get paid, I'm going to buy these filter things I found. They go on the end of the built-in cigarette filter and take out more of the chemicals, etc, making it easier to breathe. I think if I start filtering more out, it'll be easier to transition to, well, plain air later. Too many people in my family die from pulmonary complications for me to continue smoking. And too many people in my family developed diabetes because of obesity.
Day One (Saturday):
I thought I'd like eating a lot... I did not. By Saturday night, I hated the thought of food. I'm not sure if the drops were working already to curb the appetite, or the fact that I HAD to eat made me not want to. Either way, I was glad the drops don't taste like urine or something. They are fairly tasteless, and I think they began to work pretty fast.
Day Two (Sunday):
So tired of eating!!! I looked it up online, and a lot of people say the load days, in retrospect, are the hardest. Being to fat, I feel bloated and "over-flowing" all the time any way, so I'm looking forward to eating less, to knowing exactly what I'll be eating, and not spending money on other food. Remind me in a week that I said this when I'm complaining about being hungry. :)
Day Three 10/29/12:
I'm supposed to be doing the low calorie thing, but have no funds for the food. I'll start it tomorrow. In the meantime, I must continue the drops today and load some more. My tummy is not happy. That's all I have to say about that.
Now that this blog - and some form of accountability - has been started, I will go back to work and find something to do. There's always a lull right before order days (tomorrow and Wednesday), but I feel certain I can find something.
About to get my skinny on,
R.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
What My Depression Is
I wanted to blog for some weird reason, but now I'm finding it hard to know what to say. As self-centered and "woe is me; look at my pain" as I know I can be, I'm leary of posting it online for my interwebs friends to see. I don't want people to get the wrong idea about me. So, I'll come clean and explain it the best way I know how, and hopefully it won't push anyone away.
I have chemical depression and social and general anxiety disorders. My depression is genetic; it in no way stemmed from an abusive childhood or traumatic event. I've had these anxious and depressive episodes since I was a child. I remember them vividly. There is a fine line between acknowledging that these conditions affect every day life and using them as an excuse for everything. From what I've experienced, most people see it as the latter. There is no use arguing with them. If you haven't experienced it yourself, you can't know.
Trying to speak in rational terms with those living with these conditions is pointless. I'm afriad I may not have explained it correctly during a Skype chat with some friends. I didn't want to confide in them, because I didn't want them to think me weak, childish, or ungrateful. Unfortunately, that is exactly how we can seem when having an "episode," as I call it. I am very grateful for all I have, but when those moments of depression hit, there is no rational thought, there is no "talking one off the ledge." There is only despair, and no amount of reassurance will break through that. It's like being bound by invisible, irrational chains. I was watching a show on Discovery Health Channel once, and a young teenage girl about 13, I think, was explaining her difficulties. She said, "I want my friends to know that they can trust me. I'm not a bad person." I admit - I cried for her. She is so young to know that feeling. I hesitate to let my new online friends into that part of me for that very reason. I don't want the people I've come to care so much about thinking they can't trust me or that I'm weak, that I'll go into an episode and be the downer in the group. My family doesn't get it; it's hard to believe anyone else would.
Sometime in the past year, it occured to me, "You're not your depression; you're a person with depression." It sounds cliche, but the difference is a big one. You live so long with something that you come to define yourself by it. For years I've thought of myself as a depressed person instead of "a person with depression." Semantics, I suppose, but mentally, to me, it makes all the difference in the world. Now, the kicker is trying to hold on to that realization when I since triggers and on-coming episodes.
Ultimately, what I want you to know is that you can trust me, that I'm not always out for attention because of my "afflictions," that I'm not as ungrateful or irrational as I can seem. I'm a good person, though I wouldn't go so far as saying normal, but that's another story altogether. Ha ha. It's something I have to live with, like people living with diabetes or incurable diseases. If I go M.I.A, it is probably because I'm having an episode, am trying to work through it, and don't want to bother others with it. I've lost friends because they couldn't see what my problem was, couldn't understand it.
All I can offer is that I'm working on it, trying to see through the cloud. Right now, I'm finding that the episodes are hitting harder and closer together. To clarify, the depression never leaves; I shove it to the backburner in an attempt to function on a daily basis. Inevitably, it always comes to the forefront, i.e. an episode, stronger and harder to ignore. I'm at a point now where I'm looking through a fog, a fog that keeps getting denser. The denser it gets, the more my brain wants to numb itself. It's that numbing that interfers with life, getting things done, trying for what I want. One day, I'll do it. I'll learn to not get rid of it because it's chemically a part of me, but to learn to be stronger than it is. I can only hope I haven't burned too many bridges by then.
I have chemical depression and social and general anxiety disorders. My depression is genetic; it in no way stemmed from an abusive childhood or traumatic event. I've had these anxious and depressive episodes since I was a child. I remember them vividly. There is a fine line between acknowledging that these conditions affect every day life and using them as an excuse for everything. From what I've experienced, most people see it as the latter. There is no use arguing with them. If you haven't experienced it yourself, you can't know.
Trying to speak in rational terms with those living with these conditions is pointless. I'm afriad I may not have explained it correctly during a Skype chat with some friends. I didn't want to confide in them, because I didn't want them to think me weak, childish, or ungrateful. Unfortunately, that is exactly how we can seem when having an "episode," as I call it. I am very grateful for all I have, but when those moments of depression hit, there is no rational thought, there is no "talking one off the ledge." There is only despair, and no amount of reassurance will break through that. It's like being bound by invisible, irrational chains. I was watching a show on Discovery Health Channel once, and a young teenage girl about 13, I think, was explaining her difficulties. She said, "I want my friends to know that they can trust me. I'm not a bad person." I admit - I cried for her. She is so young to know that feeling. I hesitate to let my new online friends into that part of me for that very reason. I don't want the people I've come to care so much about thinking they can't trust me or that I'm weak, that I'll go into an episode and be the downer in the group. My family doesn't get it; it's hard to believe anyone else would.
Sometime in the past year, it occured to me, "You're not your depression; you're a person with depression." It sounds cliche, but the difference is a big one. You live so long with something that you come to define yourself by it. For years I've thought of myself as a depressed person instead of "a person with depression." Semantics, I suppose, but mentally, to me, it makes all the difference in the world. Now, the kicker is trying to hold on to that realization when I since triggers and on-coming episodes.
Ultimately, what I want you to know is that you can trust me, that I'm not always out for attention because of my "afflictions," that I'm not as ungrateful or irrational as I can seem. I'm a good person, though I wouldn't go so far as saying normal, but that's another story altogether. Ha ha. It's something I have to live with, like people living with diabetes or incurable diseases. If I go M.I.A, it is probably because I'm having an episode, am trying to work through it, and don't want to bother others with it. I've lost friends because they couldn't see what my problem was, couldn't understand it.
All I can offer is that I'm working on it, trying to see through the cloud. Right now, I'm finding that the episodes are hitting harder and closer together. To clarify, the depression never leaves; I shove it to the backburner in an attempt to function on a daily basis. Inevitably, it always comes to the forefront, i.e. an episode, stronger and harder to ignore. I'm at a point now where I'm looking through a fog, a fog that keeps getting denser. The denser it gets, the more my brain wants to numb itself. It's that numbing that interfers with life, getting things done, trying for what I want. One day, I'll do it. I'll learn to not get rid of it because it's chemically a part of me, but to learn to be stronger than it is. I can only hope I haven't burned too many bridges by then.
Friday, April 23, 2010
mood
I feel beaten and broken, mistrusting. Not drowning, but just below the surface, watching through ripples and waves as everything goes by. There's a barely perceptable sadness lurking near the surface. I can feel it in my eyes, avoiding a mirror. Nothing quite looks the same, though its all familiar. Too familiar. What once made me giddy, school girl happy again, or for the first time considering, seems childish. Is it time I left behind my childish ways? What will become of my wonder, the saving grace that has gotten me through so much? A chemically induced despair that mocks, "You think yourself a student, open minded and learned. You know nothing. There's too much. You'll never reach a fraction of the knowledge you desire." I'll never reach the people I desire. I'll never reach the world, and it will not reach for me, not with open arms to comfort, but grasping gnarled hands to claw and restrain. This confusion, this undecided wavelength, desiring a destination but lacking the strength to embark. It comes without notice and plunges me just beyond recall. And it shall pass just as quickly, without apology, closing the door behind with barely a sound made. I'm left to question what dream state settled about me, leaving me bare, dazed and low.
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