“Normal” Again

It’s Friday and that means it’s my weigh in day.

But I just don’t want to talk about it. Besides, you’ve heard the same ol’ story plenty o’ times.

I’m like a broken record. The same thing over, and over, and over again. I’m stuck in this cycle of lose some, gain some, stay the same, gain some and that’s not all that conducive to weight loss.

So I’m just not gonna go there today and I’m not going to let it ruin my day.

Oh, if I were only skinny and all of my problems melted away. Wishful thinking…I think we all have problems—skinny or fat.

In other news, I’ve really and truly been enjoying life lately.

For the first time in a long, long, long, long, long time I feel normal. Whatever that is—well, it’s how I feel these days. How I have missed normalcy throughout this postpartum depression journey.

My mood has been upbeat and positive. I’m back to the old me—although I still fear that the darkness will sweep over me again and envelop me in its strangling grip.

I wait for it.

Any moment.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

But it hasn’t come…yet.

I’m so much better equipped now than I was back when I was just “the old me”. The experience I had at the doctor yesterday wasn’t new to me. It has happened so many times that I’ve come to expect it.

But you know what? It bummed me out for a while. I called my mom and cried my tears and spilled my heart out. And she told me to remember how I felt prior to the appointment and how happy I was that I was feeling normal.

And so I felt the pain. Processed the feelings. I realized that how I perceived this doctor was treating me and looking at me does not mean that view of me is accurate. Her opinion about me as a person really doesn’t matter—but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt me.

But I am a survivor, not a victim. And so I tuck that little bit of hurt into another paragraph in my book of wisdom and I choose to move on.

I’m getting stronger, you see—stronger than I ever was before. I’ve been shattered into pieces and have put myself back together again with the help of loved ones and understanding experts—oh, and medication.

The sun is finally shining on my soul again and I pray that the dark clouds stay far, far away.

Weigh in Day Surprise: The Journey of Renovation in Weight Loss and Self-Love

I really messed it up this past week. I mean really badly. I was out of control with my eating.

I think it’s because I have been stressing about having a guest today. I’m feeling a lot better at the moment because I finally finished cleaning the entire house, with the exception of our bedroom—which will be my next project. I mean really and truly clean—hardly hiding any messes! You know what I mean? ha

I also have been pushing myself outside of my comfort zone in some relationships. I am a work in progress and I am seeing change in myself that I thought would never, ever happen. And it’s rewarding to me. It has brought me peace of heart in a way that I cannot explain. But it has been a little stressful for me—but as I keep going, it will get easier and more comfortable.

But anyways, I was expecting a gain this morning. I feel horrible. I look horribly bloated from the terrible food choices (sugary sweets). I don’t know how I did for points because I stopped tracking, once again.

In the midst of all of this, I am paying attention to how I am feeling, how I’m reacting, and I’m journaling it all. I just know I am going to conquer this lifelong demon that I have let control me (a part of myself without good judgment).

So get on with already, Alissa!

I lost 2.2 lbs. this week. Total loss of 9.4 lbs. I didn’t earn it in the least bit, but I’m going to take it and let it motivate me to do better.

Now that I think about it, I have made some positive changes and progress that doesn’t show on the scale but that I think will help me in the long run. I’m in the midst of transformation and renovation.

Everyone knows that a cocoon isn’t very beautiful, but the butterfly is.

When an old building is renovated, there’s a lost of dust, junk, and a lot of mess. But when an old building is renewed, it’s sometimes even more beautiful than it was in the first place.

This process is messy. It’s ugly. It even hurts sometimes.

But just like when I don’t have the energy to truly clean the house and it’s easier to just hide messes, I refuse to just hide my problems and struggles so that I don’t have to acknowledge them.

Not this time.

Not ever again.

I’m under construction right now, but after a lot of hard work and dedication (not just on the scale) I will be transformed into something more beautiful than ever before.

The walls I’ve built up will come down. The junk will be emptied out of the drawers (and my trunk - ha). I will be renewed and ready to face down those demons once and for all.

But for now, I am still a work in progress.

My Journey: Therapy for my Emotional Eating Habit

A few years ago, the thought of talking to someone about my emotional eating tendencies would have scared me enough that I would have never considered it. And I never did, until now.

I hit rock bottom this year, thanks to postpartum depression. Because of that, I was more than willing to go to therapy to work through my emotions and learn the coping skills that I so desperately needed to simply function and overcome the anxiety that I had developed. I’ve made a lot of progress, but I still haven’t completely recovered. It’s a process that takes time and a lot of work.

I had a therapy session yesterday where we talked about how I feel like my hubby and baby girl deserve someone much better than me. It was the hardest session that I’ve had yet and it made me realize how deeply I have shoved my emotions into my heart.

We focused on how I feel like my hubby deserves a woman who has it more together. Someone who doesn’t have all of my issues. Someone who is fit, thin, and beautiful. Someone the opposite of me. And once again, it all came down to  poor body image, intense feelings of shame & guilt, and not loving & accepting myself.

We talked about my pregnancy and how I never really got to enjoy it because I was always worried about my weight and felt like I was ugly & huge. I never got to experience really having a “baby bump” because I already had a plump figure. No one could even tell that I was pregnant—it just looked like I was getting fatter and fatter.

I told her about something my doctor did to me in the last few weeks of pregnancy and the emotions and shame swept over me like it had just happened again. I sobbed. My heart is still broken over that and I never took the time to heal and come to terms with the experience, which is why I still feel the pain of it so strongly. I feel like it is finally time to blog about that experience so that I can finally heal. I’ll share that when I have the time & gain the courage.

It all came down to my weight, my negative body image, and my negative self image—once again. And I believe that may be the root of my problem. I don’t love myself. I absolutely hate myself. That didn’t just happen over night but it has been a lifelong accumulation of negative self talk, and believing what any person said about me like it was the gospel truth. It’s because of a lack of confidence. It’s a feeling of unworthiness.

My therapist seems fairly religious and I am thankful for that because she brings insight into how God might view my situation. Her thoughts cause me to think differently about my experiences and it helps to spin a more positive light on my situation.

My biggest take away from this appointment was that God created me and He knows that I am not perfect and that I will never be perfect. But if I am living my life trying to become what would please God, then that is enough. He loves me, despite the fact that I am imperfect.

Maybe I don’t have the perfect body and I struggle with my weight. Maybe I have postpartum depression. Maybe I am not perfect. But because of these physical & emotional imperfections, great things have been done in my heart.

If was had been born with a perfect body and no eating issues, I would never have been able to understand what it’s like to be bullied & belittled and maybe I would never have had the empathy that I have now. I never would have needed this blog as an outlet. Perhaps the entire course of my life would have changed, and quite honestly—I have a pretty good life the way it is.

Life may have been a lot less complicated and easier if I had not been predisposed to postpartum depression. But if it had never happened, the restoration that is occurring in my heart and soul would never have happened. Once again, it has helped me to have empathy and compassion for others.  It has caused me to seek out God more earnestly. The experience has improved my marriage and brought us even closer together. And it is because of this experience that I am even beginning this journey of therapy to address the issues that have lead to my weight problem.

How can I have shame about my perceived imperfections when these are the very tools which have molded me into who I am?

How can I expect to attain perfection when God has created me knowing that I will be imperfect, and yet loves me anyway?

These questions are like the effect of the warmth of the rising sun on a densely foggy morning—they dissipate the fears and bring clarity to the distant horizon. It’s a start. I can see my goal, but the road to get there is still long and winding.

My mission for the next couple of weeks is to begin to track my emotions when I “go off track” or when I am eating for reasons other than hunger. I stopped at Target and bought a little notebook that I will keep in my purse. And wouldn’t you know that my first entry is: ate a chocolate chip cookie from Starbucks because I was emotionally drained after therapy.

It is amazing how physically draining emotions can be. After the appointment, I never did get my energy back. I spent the rest of the evening just taking it easy. I feel better after a good night’s sleep.

This was my first therapy session where we discussed how I need help with the psychological reasons of why I am overweight. She told me this is something that we can work on. And that gives me hope. By journaling, she believes this will bring insight into why I am overeating, etc. and then we can go from there.

And so this is only the beginning.

Weigh in day & mental illness talk #postpartumdepression

It is a relief to have stepped on the scale and to have it over with. I gained .7 lb.

The damage wasn’t as bad as I imagined it to be, but also marks three weeks of struggles and being off track. I know that this is all me—it’s not the plan, it’s not because I don’t have time, and it’s not because I don’t have the right foods in the house. It’s just me. It is my mental and emotional state and my lack of using the tools I have to form new habits to replace my emotional eating habit.

It’s a new week now and I can begin again. I know that I can always begin again after even just one bad choice, but there’s something about the clean slate that is extra motivational.

Yesterday, I continued to feel down—like really down. As in I the feelings I used to have where I just yearned for that silence and peace—like I didn’t want to exist anymore. I needed to talk to someone about it but never got the chance.

I hesitate to even admit that because the real me is an ultra-positive, half is glass full kind of gal. But I want to be real on the blog, and this is what was real. Postpartum depression, mental illness, whatever this monster is (yet it is myself), is unexplainable and horrid.

I searched Pinterest last night for anything that could encourage me about this condition. I came across a few things that helped me. I will share some of these in a later post, but one in particular has stuck in my mind, “Sometimes God lets you hit rock bottom so you can discover that he is the rock at the bottom”. I am thankful that through all of this, He is always there and He does hold me in the shadow of his wings.

I have learned a lot over the past few months and I knew that based on how I felt when I woke up yesterday morning that I needed to get out of the house even though it was the last thing I really wanted to do. So I called hubby and asked if he wanted to meet for lunch. We met at Subway and that brightened my spirits.

I kind of “took a vacation day” yesterday. Baby girl and I went to Kohl’s and Wal-mart afterwards. And then in the evening, we met hubby for supper (salad at Applebee’s) and hubby let me have some time alone while I tried on some swimsuits and got groceries. The swimsuit thing kind of left me feeling worse—ack! But at the end of it all, I needed that quiet time alone—“putting on my oxygen mask first”, if you will.

While at Kohl’s, I ran into this woman who has suffered terrible tragedy in her life and very publicly. I knew who she was because I have seen her suffering in the news. We had an interaction and she was the kindest person to me and baby. This woman who has been through so so much and was still so kind and positive. I didn’t expect that, wouldn’t expect that, but it was really remarkable to me. I could feel her strength in just our short conversation.

I woke up this morning feeling better and I am hoping that I’m over this “bump in the road”. Onward and forward. I am pushing myself to get out of the house again today—this time with some family (women around my age) to go strawberry picking. I am so so hoping this goes ok!!! I must work on controlling the thoughts in my mind.

Have a great weekend!

Struggling in a big way—a novel of a post

Emotional eating has been the name of the game for the past few days. I haven’t been feeling like myself and I’m hoping it’s just hormones to blame.

I haven’t been able to stay away from chocolate—I’ve had some every day for probably the last week, but not in moderate portions the past few days. I’m not talking about crazy amounts, but just enough for me to realize that it’s emotional eating. I also ate two servings of ice cream yesterday for no particular reason other than I felt like it.

I am feeling stressed out (and don’t have a reason to be), anxious, and a little blue. I’ve had a couple of things happen this week that have added to my anxiety.

First, I had an appointment with my psychiatrist. This is not like what you see in the movies. While she does have a couch, this isn’t therapy but it’s just about figuring out what cocktail of medication I need for the PPD recovery process.

So anyways, hubby was supposed to be able to watch baby girl while I had my appointment but he ended up not being able to make it. Since I had already canceled my appointment once, I decided I would take her with me since it’s usually a pretty quick in-and-out appointment.

I arrived and the small waiting room was filled with people. The receptionist was telling me that I owed money and if I didn’t pay it they were going to turn it over to collections. This was news to me because we have paid all bills we have received and I had no idea what she was talking about. However, the entire waiting room was our audience. That’s embarrassing—and not even accurate!

So I headed out to the small hallway to wait because there were just too many people in that small room for me to feel comfortable with. I let baby girl walk up and down the hallway, having to hold her hand most of the time because she wants to explore anything and everything she comes across, including trying to stick her fingers in electrical outlets. This child…lol.

And then this well-intentioned man came out of the waiting room to tell me that there were a couple of chairs available. So I felt like maybe I should go sit down since he was trying to be kind and I didn’t want to be rude. So I found a seat on the edge of the room. And then this lady gave baby girl her cell phone to play with. Whhatttt? Anyways, I didn’t want baby girl touching this thing for one thing but I also didn’t want her to break the phone! So I let her hold it for like a minute and then handed it back to the lady and said thank you.

In situations like these, I prefer to snuggle up inside my shell and not interact with anyone and just try to make it through. I know this sounds crazy but I guess it is how I have always coped. With baby girl, that is impossible. She likes to interact with anyone and everyone who will pay attention to her, including another baby in the room which she felt the need to yell across the room to. lol. She was waving at the receptionist and even wanted to walk through the room of people, probably to go make some new friends. She is a very friendly little girl, which I am proud of her for because it is not something I know how to do—but it’s also uncomfortable for me.

So we waited for 45 minutes PAST our appointment time. At that point I was about ready to leave. I was incredibly anxious and sweaty. Baby girl was about to lose it because it was passed her nap time and she was getting cranky and throwing everything I gave her to try to keep her entertained.

When the doctor finally called me in, her first question was that she noticed me waiting in the hallway and was I doing that because the room of people made me uncomfortable. She also proceeded to hand me a Kleenex because she saw me sweating. Oh my goodness—embarrassing, but it was anxiety related. So she saw my issues in person and told me she wanted to up one of my medicines if I was comfortable with it because she was confident it would help my social anxiety, but also told me to continue therapy to find ways to cope in these situations.

Meanwhile, baby girl wanted to run around her office and check everything out because that’s just her. I was trying to keep her close but the doctor said, just let her go—she’s fine. So she was going all over her office and trying to get in her papers, ripped a page in a children’s book, started to play with the mini-blind cords, and even went behind the doctor’s desk and right up to the doctor! So I felt like I wasn’t supposed to be worrying about what she was doing because the doctor told me not to, but I didn’t want her running around doing whatever so I was super nervous about that. The doctor didn’t care at all—but I was completely distracted and nervous. The doctor commented that baby girl is very inquisitive, happy, and active, which is a good thing, but keeps me on my toes—which she said was good for me because it will help me lose weight. lol…Anyways. She also told me my medication can also help me lose weight—so I will be pleasantly surprised if that does happen.

So by the time this appointment was done, I had given up any hope of going to Wal-Mart to look for a swim suit for my water aerobics class. I buckled baby girl into her car seat and then realized she had thrown her lovey blanket somewhere in the doctor’s office. There was no way I was going to try to live without that—so I unbuckled her and back into the office we went. Someone was talking to the receptionist, so we waited and waited. The receptionist quickly got the lovey and off we went….to Starbucks where I bought a nonfat caramel macchiato and a flourless chocolate cookie. Totally stress eating—and I would say that was the beginning. And then I got home and hubby told me he had to work late and I wouldn’t be able to make it to my first water aerobics class. I was disappointed and relieved all at the same time.

Now I know that I have written a novel, but I have more to say—lol.

Last night we had our bible study. Hubby had to work late again…but said he thought he could meet me there…and he did. As I’ve mentioned, I haven’t been feeling like myself and I need to learn that when I feel like that I should just stay home and “heal”, if you will. But I didn’t.

So there was a visiting couple there with a 6 month old. And this mom was completely relaxed and so was her baby. Just laying there and hardly making a peep. Baby girl has never acted like that in her life. So here she is chattering away and yelling and making her noises, throwing her toys, trying to climb all over me and hubby, and squirming to try to escape our arms so she can go climb the nearest steps (her latest obsession). She still takes a night time bottle and unfortunately I forgot it at home.

I saw this couple making sideways glances at us and at their parents. And I understand that I do not know what people are thinking but I think that I do…ha. So I was thinking that they were thinking (now that sounds crazy), “Wow, she is obnoxious…they really need to take her out. Why aren’t they taking her out…she’s distracting. We’re so much better parents than they are…just look, our precious baby is sitting so still and just staring at their wild child like he can’t believe his eyes. It’s probably because she’s formula fed”.

My thoughts get out of control. So hubby took baby girl out and I sat there and got very anxious to the point of tears, so I left the room and found hubby and cried. I told him I just couldn’t handle it and that I would take care of baby girl while he was in the bible study. He told me to take a Xanax, which I probably should have done before I got there.

While keeping baby entertained, she was starting to lose it. I tried to feed her Cheerios and she took a fistful and threw them all on the floor. She kept throwing her pacifier. I gave her a drink and she drank and drank and then started spitting water and she was soaking wet so I had to change her clothes.

Once the study was over, I rejoined the group and picked up all of the toys strewn all over. Finally baby girl could get down to walk around all she wanted to do was try to climb the stairs. So I stood up and held her. One man was joking with me and asked I was still having fun or if I was ready to give her away. I just laughed but I was thinking to myself, well actually I’m just now starting to have fun and unfortunately I never got to experience that before (a topic for another post). But I just smiled. And then another woman (a mother with older children) kind of sighed and said, “how are you?” and then said to baby girl “you are keeping your mama busy!”. And then I just started to lose it and started to cry so I said excuse me and went outside where I just started bawling. Thankfully, hubby had noticed and brought all of our stuff out and got us to the car and ready to leave.

It was just too much for me. And then I felt like I was back-tracking on the progress that I had made and I felt really disappointed. I’m trying to tell myself that it’s just hormones or something.

I really feel like we have a unique child. I have a feeling that she is very smart (I know all parents probably think this…lol), and she is incredibly active and outgoing. The girl can whistle. If we sing the ABC’s, we sometimes catch her continuing the song, her “words” imitating the sounds of the letters. We get these little glimpses of what’s going on in her head and we are surprised! She definitely has a sense of humor.

I absolutely love her, but as her mother, I also understand her while people who are not around her everyday do not. So I’m afraid people might look on like, “what is up with her”, but they don’t really know her personality, etc. They don’t know that the only time she really acts out is when she is really tired, but otherwise she is a well behaved, sweet and funny little girl.

So while I wanted to begin the Couch to 5K this morning, I decided sleep was a better option for me at the moment. And I feel disappointed in myself for a variety of reasons. I’ve lost the energy that I had recently found. I have found myself wanting to curl up at home and not interact with anyone—except that we have company coming tomorrow night until Monday—whom I invited myself when I was feeling wonderful.

I actually called my husband last night and told him that I was too fat to leave the house…I know that sounds weird but it’s just my sense of humor and trying to express the way that I felt. I was sitting on the floor playing with baby girl and I saw myself in the mirror and I cannot believe how horrible I look. I am ginormous. I look like I sit around the house and eat Twinkies and entire pizzas by myself. I don’t do either, by the way, but no one else knows that—I just look like a woman who has absolutely no self control with food. And I probably am that woman.

I have been trying to tell myself that it’s OK that I am where I am. Most people do not know what I have been through in the last couple of years. They don’t know the battles that I have fought and that I am a SURVIVOR. A Warrior Mom. Even though right now, I feel like I have curled up inside my armor, laid down on the battle field clutching my sword with my shield resting over my body like a turtle shell.

I will get up again. The battle isn’t over yet.

Do you have a Survivor or Victim Mentality in Weight Loss and Life?

The concept of survivor vs. victim mentality was introduced to me in a counseling session, of which I have been going to for postpartum depression recovery. We were discussing a difficult relationship and her advice was invaluable to me—I do plan to blog about dealing with negative relationships soon, but what I find especially intriguing right now is applying this concept to weight loss.

I believe that I have taken on both the survivor and the victim mentality throughout the years. I remember the first time that I met my doctor and I was struggling to lose more weight, having already lost a significant amount, and she told me “you are NOT a failure”. I hadn’t mentioned anything about feeling like a failure, but somehow she had just the right words.

I remember coming home, getting on my recumbent bike and biking my heart out with tears streaming down my face.

I am NOT a failure. I, Alissa, am NOT a failure.

The thought was amazingly freeing and it was a huge turning point for me.

I finally realized that all of the heartbreak I had endured with various people (adults, coaches, and peers) telling me that who I was wasn’t good enough, skinny enough, fast enough, talented enough, pretty enough, outgoing enough—none of that was true.

These were no longer excuses for me to feel like a victim broken by life and like I didn’t measure up—instead, they were experiences that made me stronger, better, and kinder. I was a survivor of these experiences. It doesn’t mean that these experiences were not painful, that they weren’t wrong in so many ways, or that it was even a gift that I went through them. It simply meant that life threw cruelty in my face in so many ways and that I am still standing strong—better for it.

It took me a very long time to get to this place of acceptance and strength. And to this day, I can honestly say that I truly believe that the comments made about me and cruel actions towards me are not a reflection of myself, but a reflection of the inflictor. These were their issues, not mine. I am a survivor.

A SURVIVOR.

The word simply invokes strength out of what felt like weakness. It is a shift in mentality that I am finding is a key to happiness.

And so I have been thinking about ways in which I am taking on a victim role in regard to weight loss and my life in general. These are areas of my life that I need to take responsibility for and take action. That doesn’t mean that they are not valid, or that I am silly for feeling a certain way—it simply means that to move forward and to be a survivor, I have to take action. Nobody can do this for me except for me.

• Victim mentality: I have always felt like I received the short end of the stick in the genetics department. Somehow, I inherited the weight problem.
• Survivor mentality: I may have been born with a tendency to be overweight, but I can make changes to get my health under control.

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• Victim mentality: I can’t stop eating my emotions because so and so invokes these feelings and makes me upset.
• Survivor mentality: No one controls my actions except for me. So and so may be unkind, but I am allowing myself to get upset and I am also choosing to eat.

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• Victim mentality: No one likes me as much as they like so and so. They never have and they never will.
• Survivor mentality: Even if people were cruel in the past, it doesn’t mean that everyone is that way or that it was my fault. If I try to be more friendly, people will probably respond—if they don’t, that’s their problem, not mine.

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• Victim mentality: Everyone else can eat whatever they want whenever they want. If I so much as look at a cookie, I will gain 10 lbs. It’s just not fair.
• Survivor mentality: Maybe it doesn’t seem fair, but this is the body I have been given and I will only live once. It’s not that I don’t get to eat delicious foods, it’s just that I have set goals that I want to meet and so I must practice moderation. I will be happier having met my goals. The sooner I accept the fact that this is just the way my metabolism is, the sooner I can take steps to move forward.

 

My examples are kind of “big” issues, but I think it’s easy to have the victim mentality in many shapes and forms. Throughout my journey with PPD, I have learned that my thoughts are incredibly impactful.

Just because we have a victim mentality right now does not mean that we can’t change the way that we think. It’s possible. It takes a lot of mindfulness to identify these thoughts and then change them—but it’s possible.

I can be a survivor and so can you.

 

Can you identify any ways that you have taken on the victim mentality? How can you change that into the survivor mentality?