Well, back for now, I would like to think I'll blog once a week or so from here on out, but let's get real. Life gets in the way of my blogging.
You know what I think happened? I think I've been depressed for months. I think the stress of the job change, the estrangement, weighty issues, and parenting all combined together to send me into a deep dark funk. Cele.xa at 10mg (half dose) just barely kept my sh*t together enough to function. Therapy has been ongoing and hard. Really hard. I read Brene Brown's Daring Greatly, and instead of being empowering, it helped send me into the downward spiral. But hey, self help books usually have that effect on me, it's why I hardly ever read them. It's too easy to go down the mental path: I'm not good enough, why can't I be vulnerable, why are those people able to do it and I can't, and ending with f*ck the author, this is me dammit, why can't I just be me? Why can't people accept me?
Clearly, I have not gotten to the point in therapy where I recognize that the me I show to the outside world really is NOT me. The only person who sees all of me is my husband.
I suck at vulnerable.
I'm trying to be better.
It made me depressed to try to be better.
Not really sure how I'm going to navigate this.
In the couple months I've been gone, I've been struggling mightily with weight. I grew up with a mother who constantly struggled with weight, and extended family who also struggled with weight. I grew up terrified that I would one day end up obese and yo-yo dieting like everyone else in my family. I also grew up on stage, as a ballet dancer where the skinnier you are, the better. It's not shocking that I have body image issues tied to ideas of self-worth. Up until a couple of years ago, I've been able to keep it in check, and I've been able to easily maintain a weight that, while it wasn't my ultimate goal, was enough to make me feel good about myself. Almost 10 pounds in 2 years has been gained. That 10 pounds isn't coming off easily. I've struggled using the Eat to Perform Wave Method, and have been frustrated with my lack of progress. But here I am, finally seeing a miniscule bit of progress, losing a little over a pound in the past few weeks by being hyperaware of everything I put in my mouth. By tracking all my calories, protein, carbs and fat. It sounds horrific, doesn't it? It's not easy, and it's been sucking up all my brainpower to get this piece figured out. To figure out what it's going to take to get back into the clothes hanging in my closet that no longer fit, and while I know that magical number on the scale may not ever get as low as I would like, I'm hoping I can build muscle and lose fat in order to have a better aesthetic.
I've also struggled with injury and sickness. Not sure if you all know this, but Influenza A sucks donkey-balls. That sh*t took me out completely for a solid week, and then another 3 weeks before I felt energetic again. And that was with Tami.flu. I had been going to my Ac.tive Rel.ease (ART) chiropractor every week for months trying to keep my body from falling apart. If it wasn't the knee, it was a shoulder, or my back, or my calf, or everything all at once. When a guy who works on the professional sports teams, Ironmen/Ironwomen, and does triathlons himself tells me that my body is telling me to take a f*cking break....I ignore him. Yeah, seriously, I ignored him for a while, blowing him off thinking that I don't do that much, that can't possibly be the reason why all this sh*t is coming down the pike. It was the flu that finally pushed me over the edge. I finally started taking steps to slow down a little bit. I dropped one of the Jazz.ercise classes I teach, going down to 2x a week. Through trial and error (on-going by the way), I've discovered that I need at least 2 rest days a week, and I can't work out the night before I teach a 6am class. I used to be able to pull that off, but I don't recover from workouts the way I used to.
This is the first week since I took my blogging break that I have felt good. Well, half of this week anyway. A few days I ago I told S that I'm definitely in a depression. I tried to describe the black cloud that hangs over me coloring all my perceptions, making me slightly paranoid and making my temper shorter than ever. He didn't get it. So, I guess he's never been depressed. All he saw was that for a long time now I've been especially cranky.
Mid-week, when I had 2 rest days in a row then got up and taught my 6am class with energy and a clear head, I suddenly felt better. Maybe it's figuring out the workout schedule so that I'm not exhausted anymore, or maybe it's figuring out how to eat so that I get the nutrients I need, and see progress on the scale. Not many of the other things are getting better: therapy is still f*cking hard and I'm quite happy I can't go for another month due to my schedule. I'm still estranged emotionally although there's been limited contact so the kids can see the grandparents.
I hope this isn't a high that turns into a low in two weeks. If that happens, I might have a bigger problem on my hands.