Scrambled Eggs, Bacon & Pudding???

Well, I started the morning out feeling pretty good besides being tired. Got some coffee in me and drove to work. My girl Valerie called and we chatted for a good 45 mins while I drove. I got into work and realized I was terribly, ravenously hungry. I went next door and got a serving of scrambled eggs and 3 pieces of bacon. Not a bad breakfast. Historically, I have had issues with scrambled eggs, but in my past several encounters with the egg, we have gotten along just fine. There were no skirmishes in the stoma. There was no bickering among the digestive parts and the egg.

Today was a different story. And I tried REALLY hard to ensure that all parties remained calm and collected. I ate with my tiny Barbie fork. I chewed excessively and swallowed slowly. I even had hot tea standing by in case some trouble broke out. Well, apparently the egg was in a mood this morning because my system fought back with a vengeance. Stomach instructed: "EVERYBODY OUT!" Even the hot tea- the peacemaker.

It was an unfortunate event that occurred during what was supposed to be a nourishing and protein-giving, hunger-satisfying little mini meal.

After the smoke had cleared and several cups of hot tea were sent in for damage control, I resorted to sugar-free pudding. Apparently, the breakfast of Champions. And boy, do I feel like a Champion. Ugh.

The End

Credits: I'd like to thank the lapband, stress, very little sleep, stretching myself too thin on a daily basis, hormones, and of course eggs- without whom this whole saga would not be possible...(unless it was bread)

Author's note: I am currently enjoying my three hour old bacon and finding that my stomach has decided to make peace with the pork. Good Stomach, GOOD.

Maintenance

I have been reading a book called "When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies". It's about overcoming overeating and realizing that you can live a life without using food as a drug. I just read the chapter about how we associate shame and intimacy with food. Like some women don't like to eat in front of people because of fear of judgment... or it feels like you are letting people in on some very personal part of self-care for you. We food addicts associate our feedings with the kindest, most comforting thing we can do for ourselves...it's love in the form of nourishment. I have experienced that shame. I didn't eat in front of people for a long time... still don't like to really-at least people I don't know. And when I feed myself for comfort I am VERY self-conscious about who sees or realizes what I'm doing... as if I am doing something illicit and bad. When I want to veg out and eat even a healthy snack... I want to do it alone in the bedroom...I won't get what I need out of the experience if I do it in front of people. It's a weird thing.

I read last night about women who decide they are never dieting again and they let themselves eat whatever they want to. They are SUPPOSED to FILL their cupboards with foods that they love and seek out and rely on to get by. ANYTHING THEY WANT. It is SUCH a scary concept. Scary because if I were to do that, I might gain all my weight back. I might eat till I burst. Which isn't true with my lapband-obviously... but still the idea that NO food is illegal- even icecream- even cheetos- even fried things... it would be hard to feel THAT out of control.... to be surrounded by foods that I want all the time.

The point to living this way is for the foods to become commonplace and no longer a special ocassion item. To make these items so commonplace that you stop looking for them. That you stop yearning for them, and pay attention to what your body wants. Because you will start wanting real food...you will yearn for a salad and a lean cut of chicken. Even with all that booty around. It will no longer hold any power over you. I am afraid to conduct this experiment, yet I am oddly entranced by it.

I have to get ready for work now. I blogged instead of getting on my elliptical. Guess I'll be doing it when I get home tonight. GAH! The GUILT!

This Morning’s FREAKOUT

I got to sleep at 11 last night, woke up at 6, that’s a decent amount of sleep. I got plenty of exercise yesterday although I didn’t eat very well (read: I didn’t eat enough until WAY too late in the day- to the point where I couldn’t function-not necessarily junk eating). So today, I get here (TO WORK) feeling awake enough, start working on studying XHTML & CSS some more and I just keep trying to fall asleep. I had my coffee. I had my second coffee. I had a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of nonfat yogurt. I kept dozing. I wanted to go home and sleep. I didn’t want to be here. I decided that eating something would help. (WHY would that HELP??? THAT NEVER HELPS!!!-NOT IN THE LONG RUN) I chose a package of mini-cookies from the “vending machine of death” and proceeded to snarf those down and that elevated me somewhat… but was a really temporary high. So I decided that I needed to eat the hershey’s kisses over there on my coworker’s desk. I think I ate about 15 because my stomach is not happy with me.

So this whole thing is one-part confessional, and one part strange out-of-body experience. Because I was AWARE the whole time I was doing this. I was MINDFUL of the poor choices I just made. I watched curiously as I popped piece after piece of chocolate into my mouth… trying to accomplish some sort of magical transition-I watched to see what happened. I was DESPARATE for some sort of way to pump myself up to the functioning level, at whatever the cost. It sort of worked… but now I am angry, sad, guilt-ridden, and still tired. Ahhh… the vicious circle of addiction! YAY!

I can’t just go home every time I feel this way… I might be “out sick” for weeks if I chose that path- not an option. I am taking my anti-depression meds on-time each day, I am taking my anti-anxiety meds on time each day. I am still not right. There is something going on really deep inside me. I wonder if it’s the weather change that is depressing me. I wonder if it’s just the stress of my situation that is depressing me (Cory was laid off…same story as many in the country---but a little bit of my history repeating in that I am the sole breadwinner for the household again-I NEVER wanted to be in this place again EVER). DUH---I wonder why I can’t keep to my commitment to keep away from my drugs. Example:

Last night- I didn’t feel like cooking, but was really hungry. Cory went to the store to pick up a few things and the SECOND I knew he was out the door, I was searching for the leftover Halloween candy. I didn’t over-do it thankfully- two snack kit-kats, two mini snack boxes of junior mints, but as soon as I had my fix I was able to wind down a little bit. Prior to the Halloween candy, I thought about making myself a drink. (It would have been a better choice calorically- 140 calories for a vodka-cran verses over 200 calories for the candy) But along with having a drink to “wind down” comes the stigma of alcoholism and in the end I’m just trading one drug (food) for another (vodka)…instead of killing the issue at the root.

The root is stress. The root is anxiety and fatigue. The root is a thick one that has grown deeply into every piece of me… and it’s insidious. My current methods are not working. I don’t know what to do really.

Not able to eat in the mornings.

Today, not till 2. I also had to take an extra dose of xanax because my anxiety was just out of control. I woke up late, which was not a relaxing start to begin with. Took the bus, +1 to the low stress path …. So I should still be even in the stress score. Get to work, login, work on some stuff. Low key morning. Lots of stuff to do. Sick of listening to the man who sits across from me. Irritated by the face that the raspberry yogurt I just tried to eat doesn’t want to stay down. Irritation = stress for me. What do I do? I sit here and keep working instead of getting up and taking a break. I didn’t make a good choice for myself.

At 10 after 1, I finally made myself go out and take a very brisk walk up 5^th to Union to 3^rd and north to Macy’s. I tried to focus on breathing and keeping my breath constant with my stride… just like I do when I run. Seemed to help some. I tripped on cracks in the sidewalk every so often, or almost turn my ankle stepping off curbs. I’m like WTF?? Starting to feel shitty and cranky at this point… maybe because I haven’t eaten. I wander around Macy’s and decide to leave. I walk to Nordstrom and heading up the stairs to go get soup at the café, I trip, and fall up the stairs AGAIN! This time I didn’t hurt myself, caught myself before knees hit steps… just really bruised the ego again. Feeling ridiculous and out of sorts and depressed. My internal dialogue went something like this:

“Fuck! Jesus Jen, why can’t you walk or climb stairs? Hmmm… maybe because you are hungry and need to eat something so you can maintain your balance, dumb ass.” I was not kind to myself. So I get the soup, carefully make it down three flights of escalators without incident, and walk back to work arriving intact.

Sitting here after eating said soup, I am feeling better, more balanced, less like I want to just end it all. I am also half way through a banana. I am SO frustrated with my lack of taking care of me lately. Between moving this summer and the Halloween party I just threw, I have been completely ignoring my needs. I have been going through the motions. Not able to make myself sit down and concentrate on ME. Plan meals, plan workouts, plan things like hair appointments, dental appointments, etc. I just make certain I have money in my checking account, gas in my car, coffee in my house, that I get to work, that my freelance clients are cared for, that I continue to grow and nurture Cory & my relationship to the next levels, and that I consider working on my art/portfolio/personal interests every now and then. I feel as though I have abandoned me. It’s depressing.

Living alone it was easier, but also lonelier. I have to find the balance so I am not so stressed about my needs not being met all the time. This is something I have to do.

Plan for this evening:

Catch Bus

Go Home

Take Nap

Deal With Freelance Clients

Plan Meals for Week

Plan Workouts for Week

Take care of housekeeping (bills, etc.)

Relax

Go to bed EARLY.

We’ll see how this plan goes.

BREATHING….

Good news, the monkey can't eat it.

Can't get the chips down. Worked out well. Lap-band saves the day again!

Monkey See, Monkey Eat

I was just getting a cup of tea. No cream, no sugar, just black with some splenda. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a big bag of potato chips leftover from the party.

Just up there on top of the fridge.

Looming.

I knew if I tried to ignore them, they would continue to taunt me all day. Food does that to me.

I got a tiny bowl and got out a serving. I hid the bag from sight. Hoping this will take care of the problem. No deprivation, but also no going overboard. Some comfortable middle ground.

Why do I have to eat everything I see? I saw there are a mammoth amount of m&ms in a huge jar in the living room. I better deal with those too- although I don't feel their pull near as much. What is it about the sight of food that makes me think "ooh.... I HAVE TO put that in my mouth!"

I hate that. I hate being an addict. I hate the idea that I will have to fight this fight my whole life. It seems overwhelming. I guess the goal is to replace the food with something that's a healthy high. Running helps. Having a hobby or a goal outside of weight loss helps.

The other way to look at it is the way my therapist does, she decided she is no longer going to diet. And so that's exactly what she did. And she lost 30 pounds over the course of a year. I think that says a lot about what can happen when you take food out of the spotlight- as the star of the show in your life, and put it on the shelf with the other tools humans need to live. Make YOURSELF the star of the show. Make your needs the headliner. Put the old coping mechanisms in the closet and realize that you aren't that person any longer. It's truly inspiring to me to see and hear that it can be done. That it's a place that is achievable. It's comforting.

I have to go journal the chips now.

"Break A Leg" is not an appropriate good luck wish

Well, Halloween party frenzy behind me, and the perfect storm of goodies, cakes, cookies and cocktails all around me mostly gone, I began the week with a new-found sense of optimism. I did a "clearing" of the house, banishing all the evil spirits a.k.a. JUNKFOOD from the house...taking them to work to fatten up those around me. I ran/ walked 3 miles Monday night and felt good about it. I talked to my cohabitators about some of my habits and how they might be changing (maybe spending more time alone and listening to my needs- nurturing myself in ways other than food)- and how it was not because of them, but because of my needs. I received good support. I was firmly pointed in the right direction. My path plotted. My journey continuing.

Then I went to Starbucks yesterday morning.

I didn't fall off the wagon and order 3 apple fritters and a venti breve chocolate chip frappuccino with extra whipped cream (which I would say is typically the most hazardous danger in going to Starbucks). No, I ordered a tall skinny hazelnut latte. I also ordered a grande skinny caramel latte for my boss (not an ass-kissing thing, just a reciprocal circle we are in). I got my drinks after wading through the masses of finely-coiffed women posing in impossibly high, uncomfortable shoes and huddled in their tight cliques, dodging zombie-like men and women all completely entranced by their iPhones, I pranced merrily up the stairs back to work...when I fell UP the STAIRS in the Starbucks.

I plunged knee-first onto the concrete stairs, then onto my hands and nearly my face. It felt as if time had stopped. It seemed like the happy singing of Ella Fitzgerald ceased, and the baristas suddenly quit steaming their milk, while the entire 35 people in Starbucks all stopped talking and looked at me. My back was to them, so all they saw was me splayed out on the stairs. Then, just like in the movies, everything continued as it was- music resumed, milk steaming continued, jabbering and talking again filled the air. I heard one person say, "oh my gosh, are you okay?" and I managed to mumble "yes, just a bruised ego".

My boss's drink went flying, mine was in my personal mug, sealed up, so no spillage there. The manager came to my aid, taking the empty latte cup and assuring me they'd replace the drink, and was I sure I was okay? An employee came with a mop and cleaned up the mess. All the while, I still didn't have the guts to turn and face the crowd of people. Finally I realized that my knee hurt. A LOT. Enough that I wanted to start crying like a 4 year old who has a boo-boo. Enough that while I awaited my drink replacement, I had to grip on to the railings of the stairs just to keep from falling again from shaking-as I navigated my way up the stairs slowly and out the door.

I limped the block and a half back to work and got myself back to my desk. I sat down. I rolled up my pant leg, and I saw a huge purple dent where my knee had struck the step, and a gigantic goose-egg forming up around it. A coworked fetched me some ice and I put my leg up. As I sat there, trying to breathe through the pain, I realized that if I was just bruised, or it was just a minor owee- the adrenaline would have kicked in by now, numbing the pain a little. Well, it just got worse. I tried to work and ignore it, but the shaking made it hard for me to control my mouse. I finally gave in and called boyfriend to come get me and take me to the doctor.

He came, we went, had xrays and discovered thankfully, that nothing was chipped or broken, and that I had just severely traumatized the tendon that attaches all my thigh muscles to all my lower leg muscles. The doctor said, painkillers, crutches for two days, and if it doesn't get better within that timeframe, come back. We went home, I was drugged up, slept for 3 hours, got up, ate some couscous, watched TV, fell asleep, watched more TV with boyfriend, went to bed.

So here I am. Feeling pretty good today. I graduated from the crutches this morning- that's how quickly things have healed. Now just a limp and half a painkiller to get me in a good place. Tomorrow I go back to work and I will start walking during my breaks to make sure I don't stiffen up. Hopefully, I will be able to resume my training for my next 5K next week. Till then, walking each night, or elliptical each night. Yesterday's eating went well as far as calories go... not so well as far as what i could keep down. Meds and this accident were enough to make me unusually tight.

This morning I am working from home. I have had a couple cups of coffee, I tried eating some Fiber One Cereal- which reminds me of Guinea Pig droppings- YUCK. They weren't too awful tasting, but they weren't going down either. So I drank the milk, tossed the cereal. Drinking tea now and hoping I can get this banana down. My other goal today is to make sure I don't bow to the call of the fridge. I don't have a LOT to do for work. I have laid out my newsletter and realized I don't have any of the pieces I need to work on a new mailing series we are doing next year. So I'm kind of done for the day. My plan is to keep checking my work emails, and getting up every so often to walk around so I don't stiffen up too much.

I don't know what to take from this experience other than be careful going up the stairs. There's no karmic connection, no hidden message here. Just a life happening. And I have to carry on with keeping to what's most important. I am grateful that most of the shitty food is out of the house so I am not tempted to eat it. That helps.

Okay, I have reached the blathering stage. Time to quit writing.
Back to reality... or rather, ON with reality.

J