Right Now

Right Now I'm...

Reading: The Fiery Cross (Outlander Series, #5) by Diana Gabaldon.  Facing Your Giants by Max Lucado.  Captivating: Unveiling The Mystery of a Woman's Soul by John and Stasi Eldridge.  Jesus Calling: Enjoying Peace in His Presence by Sarah Young.
Just finished re-reading The Shack by William Paul Young and waiting to see the movie with my Mom.

Watching: Just watched the series finale of Bones the other night. I was seriously bummed when I heard this was the final season. I've loved Bones since the first episode, and loved the books the series was based on as well. Getting ready to cue up last night's episode of Grey's Anatomy...although, after the heartwrenching episode last week I'm not sure if I should or not! (Major Daddy dying triggers in the last episode.)  Have you seen This Is Us? If you haven't, you're seriously missing out! I think it's the most real show I've seen in forever. There was not a single episode that didn't touch me in some way, shape, or form. There were definitely a lot of emotional triggers in the whole season, but in a weird way, each episode helped me deal with "something". Just watch it. Seriously.

Following: Daniel Euan Henderson on YouTube. I think I stumbled upon a video of his on Facebook one time and I've been a fan ever since. He's an adorable Scottish guy who does these short "motivational" videos. He's a riot! He also has some serious videos about depression, anxiety, and overcoming your own obstacles. And his accent! Just go watch him!

Eating: A lot healthier! That will be a series of posts in an of itself, but suffice it to say I've been improving my eating habits in order to heal some chronic health issues I've been dealing with. All in all, it's going pretty well. More on that later!

Wearing: Sweatpants, a t-shirt, and warm fuzzy socks. I'm on vacation, I can wear what I want!

Recuperating: Mentally and emotionally, still from Daddy's death. I have years' worth of writing to do on that topic, trust me. I will eventually get around to putting all my feelings into words here. I just need a bit of time. Physically, my back and knee are getting a tad bit better, mainly from my better eating, more activity, and some good pain pills (finally!).

Wondering: How many readers I have and what I'll post next...

Looking Forward: To the next TWELVE days of vacation time!!!

Enjoying: Not having to go to work for the next twelve days! hahaha

Planning: Lots of work around the house for the next twelve days of vacation. My mom and I will be getting some things organized, pictures hung (finally...we've only lived here two and a half years already and don't have a damn thing hung up!), the garden started, flowerbeds and memory garden built...so many things I'm tired just thinking about it!

I stole this little meme from my friend to get me back in the groove of blogging again.

Thanks for reading!

Have a great Friday night!

Rebecca

Want some cheese with that "whine"?

No, I haven't fallen off the face of the Earth...it just feels like that some days!

I'm fighting my way back from a hellacious bout of bronchitis and pneumonia...it's been hanging on for almost three weeks now.  To say it's been "hard" or "exhausting" is an understatement.  I was out of work for almost two weeks (so long I ran out of sick time...no sick time = no pay!  I was already over $400 short on my paycheck as it was from missing work so there was no way we could survive if I missed more).  I'm slowly...and I do mean slowly...recovering. I'm so exhausted, physically and emotionally, from all of this.  I'm used to getting knocked down by colds and flu, but I can usually overcome them pretty quick.  This has knocked me on my ass, backed up, ran over me, backed up again and parked it's nasty self directly in my lungs.  And on top of the sinus infection/bronchitis/pneumonia, my doctor diagnosed me with asthma as well.  She actually believes that is the underlying cause of why this hit me so hard.  She thinks I've probably had it for a while, a few years at least, but since I haven't ever really complained of any major symptoms (other than a lot of wheezing during exertion or when I'm sick), we never diagnosed it.  She's pretty sure that since my lungs are already compromised from the asthma, it was a perfect storm for this crap to attack me so hard.  I've done two rounds of antibiotics, two rounds of steroids (AKA crazyinabottle) more DayQuil and NyQuil than any person's liver and kidneys should have to metabolize in a lifetime, and was sent home with my own handy dandy little nebulizer for breathing treatments 4x a day.  It's been 19 days and I'm STILL worn out and have to be careful not to overdo it otherwise I end up wheezing and huffing and puffing like a crazy person.  I have I think 4 or 5 days left on the breathing treatments, then I'll meet with my doctor to set up a long-term plan for the asthma diagnosis. 

I've really tried hard not to complain while I've been sick, but it's been so hard.  I just want to feel better.  I want to BREATHE!  I want to be able to walk from the couch to the bathroom without having to take a hit off the inhaler because the exertion is causing my lungs to spasm.  I am so bone tired, and so very tired of BEING tired.  I live with chronic pain due to my back (which ironically hasn't hurt a lick since I've been on steroids!), but this is a totally different kind of incapacitated. I feel like people think I'm "milking" this illness...that I "should" be better by now.  So I feel guilty when I keep saying I'm still worn out, having trouble breathing, and generally still sick.  It has done NOTHING to help the anxiety and depression I deal with on a daily basis anyway.  I've had a few really bad days, sitting on the couch in tears because I'm so depressed that I just want to FEEL BETTER!!!  Don't get me wrong, there has been minor improvement.  I can finally breathe through my nose again.  I can wear my CPAP so I can sleep again. (I went about 4 or 5 days in the beginning when I didn't sleep at all because I had so much trouble breathing.  Those were fun days I tell ya.)  But I'm still just so damn worn out.  And I'm sick of being sick.  And my husband got sick too...of course.  So, you know who got to take care of him while I was still sick, which didn't make me feel any better at all!  

Hopefully within the next week or so this will all be a thing of the past and I can move on with getting the asthma under control and back on track to my FABULOUS BY FORTY plan and training for the Chance to Hope 5K...which sadly has gone nowhere lately.  :(  

That's about all for now...just a quick catch up and hello.  I'm hoping to get back in the swing of this blogging thing...I've missed it, but still sometimes feel it's kind of pointless because I really have nothing of interest to say.  

Hope whoever's reading is doing well!

Behind The Scenes- Or, The Moment(s) I Had Enough

I realized recently that I've written a lot of things about my "diet" (for lack of a better word), but never really wrote anything about the events leading up to my "THAT'S IT I'VE HAD IT" post. It's a revelation that was a long time in coming, as I seem to have been living the past few years of my life in the country of Fear and Denial, making side trips to the cities of Excuse-ville and Complacency-town. Well, no more. I realized I have to face this fear, this denial, whatever it is that is holding me back from becoming the best ME I can be and the woman God intended for me to be. Many of these breakthroughs have come while I've been reading a wonderful book by Max Lucado entitled Facing Your Giants. My best friend and I have been reading it together. I will be posting more about it at a later date, after I've had a chance to go back and process and journal more about my experience reading it.


About a month and a half ago, I was having a heart-to-heart conversation with my Mom. She asked me when I was going to go back on my Weight Watchers plan, because she was concerned about me. I told her I was "planning to start on Monday". We all know that trick. And we all know how well it works. She started to cry and begged me to do something about my weight because she had been having nightmares about me dying due to complications of my weight. That hit me like a ton of bricks. I had no idea she was that worried. I know she worries about me, I'm her daughter; that's her job. But to break down crying to me and beg me to do something because she is afraid I'm going to DIE? Wow. I was speechless.

I mean, I'm not stupid. I KNOW I'm fat. I didn't just wake up today fat. I've been this way for a long time. And I've ignored it for a long time, too. But, as the numbers crept higher, as the pounds slowly added up, so did the health consequences. For quite some time I've been getting regular cortisone shots in my lower back to relieve the pain (partially caused by a tilted pelvis, but mostly because I'm fat). I've been unable to stand for longer than 5 minutes at a time without severe back and knee pain. We're talking pain so bad that I sweat and get out of breath from the pain. I've been unable to walk for ANY distance (even the distance from the car to the grocery store, or from the car to go inside my work) without getting out of breath and having to sit down and rest. I've been popping pain pills and muscle relaxers like candy for months. I've been unable to wear my seat belt in my car because it wasn't long enough to go around my belly. One of the most embarrassing things of all was I had to resort to placing a chair in the bathtub in order to take a shower. I had gotten so fat that I was unable to stand for the length of time it took to bathe myself. It brings tears of shame to my eyes to admit that.

And then there are my sleeping issues. I've always snored, but over the past year it has gotten progressively worse, and my husband noticed that I had begun to have apneas (when breathing stops due to obstruction of the airway during sleep), and I was struggling to breathe at night. He finally took a video of me one night because I didn't believe how bad it was. I cried when I saw it. I literally rose up off the bed from the waist up because I was struggling so hard to get air. I began having nightmares and waking up during the night choking and gasping for breath. My own body fat was choking off my air so badly that it woke me out of a dead sleep. I haven't wanted to go to sleep for the past couple of months because I was so afraid that I would die in my sleep from my fat choking me. It was then that I decided I it was too much. I have had enough. I had to do something, ANYTHING to get this weight off. I refuse to die young from something I can prevent. I am 38 years old. I have (God willing) at least forty or fifty more years on this Earth. Do I want to spend it fat, in pain, and dependent on other people to take care of me because I was immobilized by my weight? What was it going to take? Being cut out of my house and hoisted into a bariatric ambulance by a crane? I drew the proverbial line in the sand the day my mother cried in my arms.

I first began restructuring my diet. I stocked up on healthy food, veggies, and snacks. I started planning what food I was taking to work the night before. I joined Spark People. I faithfully track my food every day. Even when I go "off plan" and eat something not so good for me, I still track it.  What use is there in me being dishonest with myself?  I’m not saying I've been perfect.  I’m not saying I haven’t slipped up.  I’m not saying this has been all rainbows and daisies.  It’s been hard.  But I refuse to quit.

I am still scared.  Scared of failing and scared of succeeding.  That’s not going away overnight.  But, I have God on my side, and with Him ALL things are possible.  Even losing weight.  Daily I pray for the strength to stay on plan, to dig deep within myself and find the strength to face the temptations and pitfalls of dieting, and for the courage to face whatever physical and emotional changes come during the transformation.  (If you would find it in your heart to pray these things with me, I would be honored.)

When I'm scared of failing (and succeeding, sometimes!), I remember those people in my life who would be devastated if I died.  I remember that I owe it to the people that depend on me, the people that love me, and the people that need me to do this.

After my last post, I had a conversation with my best friend in which she pointed out that I don’t think I DESERVE to succeed.  That is so true.  Sometimes I do believe that.  Sometimes I do believe I don’t deserve anything good in life, and I sure don’t deserve to succeed at my weight loss.  That’s why I sabotage myself.  Also, failure is comfortable.  I’m used to it.  It’s like that comfortable pair of threadbare underwear in the back of the drawer.  C’mon you know you have them too!  Staying in the “comfort” of failure is like continuing to wear that holey pair of undies with the stretched out elastic that are thin enough to read the newspaper through .  Not logical and definitely not productive.   Besides, she pointed out, can success really be that bad compared to where I’ve started?  (She’s a pretty smart cookie, that bestie of mine!)

So there you have it.  A convoluted peek inside my psyche, the madness behind my method.  Thanks for listening.

Turning Point

Today is a pivotal turning point in my weight loss endeavor.  I've now lost (according to my home scale...not sure how much I trust it!) 22 lbs. Yes, this is great and I am thrilled! However, I'm also freaked out. The 20 lb mark is and has been a gigantic speed bump for me. I told myself when I started this that when I hit 20 pounds, it would mark a turning point for me. That I would *know* at that point that I was really doing it. That I was truly losing weight. That I was (dare I say it?) succeeding. Because I haven't gotten past 20 pounds lost in a long while.

You see, I've lost the same 15-17 lbs for years. Each time I lose that amount, something happens...whether it's consciously or subconsciously I'm not sure...and the wheels come off my wagon and I backslide, fail, jump back into old habits.

Never in the past 5 years have I lost more than 20 lbs while on a diet. But now in the past three weeks I've lost 22 lbs.  That still boggles my mind!  Twenty two???  Seriously?  Me?  I am celebrating, but I'm also nervously reserved about it.  I'm scared that I will fall back into old habits and gain it right back. When I have hit this point in the past, I've allowed my fear to stop me. I have tried to look at this fear and figure out exactly what it is that I'm afraid of. Am I afraid of failing? Yes. Am I afraid of succeeding? Yes. Am I afraid of letting other people down. I am afraid of letting myself down. I am afraid of this being just another failure. I am taking steps to prevent the backslide. I have talked to my husband about it, made friends aware of it, my family is very supportive...but I'm still scared. I don't want to fail again.

Why am I afraid of succeeding? If I succeed, so many things will change for me. I will feel better. I will look better. I will be able to go into a store and buy clothing off the "normal" size rack, not have to search for the largest size in the plus-sized section. I will be able to do the things I want to do without constantly needing to stop and rest or be doubled over in pain. I will be able to walk. I will be able to run. I will be able to ride a bike again. I might even be able to dance!  I will be able to go to the Renaissance Faire in costume, something I've wanted to do for years! I will be able to go swimming without feeling and looking like a beached whale. I want to get dressed to the nines and go out on the town with my husband. I want him to be proud to be seen with me. I won't be "the fat friend".  I will possibly be able to carry a baby to term and actually give birth to a real-live-take-home-baby at the end of the pregnancy.  So why, WHY am I so afraid???

The fear of success for me lies in part in one simple (or not so simple) fact. I have NEVER been thin. I was a chunky child, I was an overweight teenager, I was a fat young adult, and I am a morbidly obese adult. I don't know what a "healthy weight" me looks like. What a healthy weight will feel like. How to operate in the world as a person that is not obese. I've navigated my entire life as an overweight/obese person. I have the emotions and social reactions of the "fat girl". I'm so used to being viewed as a fat person, I don't know if I will know how to operate in the world as a person of normal weight. If you've been overweight your whole life, it's challenging to change your thought processes and reactions. At my weight now, as over the past 20-25 years of my life, I've constantly been subject to "the looks", comments, laughter, jokes, and rejection due to my weight.  If I, at a normal or "closer to normal" weight, don't get these looks, laughter, jokes and rejection...what will I get?  How will people treat me, and how will I react to that treatment?  Will I be resentful that people that now don't give me the time of day lavish attention on me in the future?  Or will I be able to graciously accept the attention and simply go on about my life?  I'm not sure. These are the issues that trip me up when I feel the momentum building and I start to see that big billboard of success at the end of the road.

And yes, I know that all of this is my skewed perception of how things could "possibly" work out. I know that this is not necessarily rooted in truth. It is simply how I'm feeling right now, and something I need to work through as my weight loss continues. I am very happy about my successes, and have celebrated every pound I've lost.  And I'm not quitting.  If anything, I'm more motivated to keep going and get to my goal.  I just have to voice these issues.  Maybe if I actually speak them, give them a space of their own outside of my mind to dwell...maybe then they won't haunt the dim corners of my mind?  Maybe they won't lurk in the shadows waiting for that one moment of weakness to pounce and derail my motivation train?

If anyone else has gone through similar emotions in their quest to lose a lot of weight, do you have any advice to share?  How did you get through it?

Starting over...again.

How many times have I done this?  How many times have I tried to lose weight, to get in shape, to be healthier?  How many times have I started, failed, started, failed, started, failed and started again?  Too many times to count.  I'm sick of it.  Something has to change.  I have to change.

I realized the other day when I was taking yet another pain pill for my aching back and knees...WHY???

Why am I doing this to myself?  I'm literally killing myself by eating junk and being a sedentary sloth.  I hurt so bad from the pain in my knees and back that I literally can't stand for longer than five minutes, and walking?  Forget it.  It's ridiculous.  I'm thirty eight years old, not eighty eight!!!  Shoot, some eighty eight year olds are in better shape than I am right now.  I cannot let this go on anymore.  Not one single minute more.

Confession time (and this is hard enough to admit to myself, let alone put this out there on my blog and have everyone see it...please don't judge): I am thirty eight years old and I weigh 396 lbs.  That's disgusting.  I feel disgusting.  I am miserable daily, and I feel ugly, gross, and unlovable on a daily basis.  I am in pain all the time, I don't sleep well because I'm so fat that I can't breathe when I lay down because my own fat chokes me out.  I have a sleep study set up to get on a CPAP so I can finally breathe and get some sleep.  I'm so afraid to go to sleep sometimes because I'm afraid I won't wake up.  I am afraid I'm going to die in my sleep.

Today I vow to not let this go on any longer.  I WILL NOT die young, not from something that can be prevented.  I owe it to myself, to my family, to my babies that died, to my future babies and to God to get healthy and live a life that glorifies Him.

I will need support, I will need help, I will need to be held accountable.  I will stumble.  I will fall.  I will need a hand up now and then.  But, I WILL do this.  Come Hell or high water, I will lose this weight and I WILL live the life God has planned for me!

So, I have re-re-joined Weight Watchers, I've joined Spark People for their support forums, I am publicly asking for prayers and support from you my web-family.  You can't get more accountable than that, can you?

Answered Prayers

Today is definitely a day for thanksgiving. 

Join me in thanking God for answering our prayers regarding Matt's pending surgery.

We had an appointment with his hematologist today, and he told us that he does not think his condition warrants the splenectomy at this time!!!

Yes, his circulating levels of platelets are very low.  But...it's a "false low" according to the hematologist because his spleen is hoarding the remaining platelets.  He has no symptoms that they would normally look for when preparing a patient for a splenectomy.  He doesn't have spontaneous bleeding (internal, from any bodily orifice, gums, etc).  He hasn't had an inordinate number of infections that he hasn't been able to fight off.  (Of course, it takes him longer than usual to fight colds/flu because of being diabetic and having the blood issue, but nothing out of the ordinary.)  He hasn't lost a significant amount of weight, he hasn't developed intolerable pain in the splenic region.

For now, we are status quo. 

He will continue to be monitored closely by his regular physician and hematologist, with blood tests every month and CT scans every six months to monitor the levels and spleen size.  Any significant changes and they will proceed with surgery. 

But for now, THANK GOD, he does not have to have surgery!!!

Thank you to everyone who has kept us in your thoughts and prayers.  Your support and friendship means the world to me!!!

That's it...I QUIT!

Eleven days ago I quit smoking.

I had been smoking almost a pack a day for 15 years.

And I quit cold turkey.

Surprisingly, I'm doing quite well. Praying daily for God's assistance in keeping me strong and "staying quit" is helping.

Other than a few "hmm, I'd sure enjoy a cigarette right now" moments, I really haven't had horrible withdrawals or cravings. It's been a lot easier than I thought. It's been a little bit of a challenge, I'm not going to lie, but I really feel the physical part of the addiction is past. As with any habit, I believe the majority of my smoking addiction was psychological. It was routine. It was pattern. It was comfort. Breaking those patterns and recognizing the triggers has been key. I believe I used smoking to avoid a lot. When I was bored, I went outside and smoked. When I was irritated or frustrated, I went outside and smoked. When I wanted a few minutes alone, I went outside and smoked. Now the key is confronting those times when I am bored, irritated, frustrated or avoiding something and working THROUGH it rather than stepping AROUND it in a cloud of smoke.

I'll have more to say about all this later, along with a few other topics, I just wanted to drop in and give a quick update on me since it's been a while.

I hope you are all well!