The Good, The Bad and the Exhausted

It’s been a rough few months for my family. My mother’s health and mind are declining faster than I’m able to cope with. My father’s memory is fading, too. My brother was in the hospital for a month and I ended up in the hospital for four days for pancreatitis. We were all feeling helpless and at times, hopeless.

But within those two months of ickiness, there was Mother’s Day, my dad’s birthday, and my birthday. My son finished fourth grade, his baseball season ended (hopefully his last season ever) and he grew another half inch.  I lost 5 pounds (although I don’t recommend pancreatitis as a way to lose weight). My husband, son and I all read a bunch of great books during this time, had several amazing sushi dinners at our favorite restaurantsocks, Ichiban, and we finally saw the movie, Wonder Woman.

When the shit started to hit the fan in May, I was finally running more after this long winter. I was up to 8 mile runs on Sundays. It was a great stress reliever, but it was also nice to have mileage goals in mind again. I had hoped to be at 12 miles by now, but my body had other plans for me. So this morning, after my first full cup of coffee in a month, I put on my favorite socks and went for my first run in three weeks.

I’m not gonna lie. It was really difficult. The first half wasn’t bad, but I started to lose energy just after mile one. Had to take walking breaks on the way back and finished the 5K with nothing left in me. Just thinking about the power of my sock capes flying behind me was the only thing that pushed me through that last quarter mile. The heat and humidity were a factor, too, I’m sure.  I nearly passed out twice after I got home (saw spots, light headed) and my energy didn’t really return until the evening.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not very good at treating myself well. But I really need to. I need to learn to be good to myself. I need to learn to let things go, to not stress over situations that I cannot control right now, or possibly ever. I need to listen to my body. I need to admit that it’s ok I don’t run as much as I want to and it’s ok I can’t eat whatever I want right now. It’s sucky, but it’s really ok.

Now that summer has finally arrived here in Maine, I’m trying to have a more positive outlook on at least the next few months. If I can’t run as much, I’m hoping to take more walks in the sunshine and try a little more weight lifting. If I can’t eat ice cream every day (which is a crime), I’ll try to find yummy but healthier options. I’ll try to spend more time with all of my family, bring out photos to remind all of us of good times in the past and continue to plan good times for our future.

I will try to live in the moment. I will try to not wish away the weeks, wanting the painful bits to hurry up then go away. I know the pain will pass and I can get to the other side eventually. I just need to live through it, learn through it and move on. As my dad always says, “You can’t live more than one day at a time, right?”

Right.

So here’s to you and me, living in the moment during this summer of hope. Let the good times roll!

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Meet my nemesis

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Meet my nemesis, Mr. Scale

I thought I was like Wonder Woman in the fact that I didn’t have any kind of longtime rival. (I know. Comparing myself to Wonder Woman is foolish, but I *often* wish I was her. Still. Even at the age of 41.) Interesting fact: There is no one villain that opposes Wonder Woman, like Joker to Batman or Lex Luthor to Superman. She has no archenemy. Isn’t that odd? But I digress.

The fact is I do have an archenemy. I’ve been fooling myself by thinking that he was my supporter, not my opponent. I thought, in fact, that we had a decent although sometimes rocky relationship. Yet after a few weeks of bad mornings, I’ve decided that I need to take a breather from this relationship. As of today, like Ross and Rachel, Mr. Scale and I are on a break.

For the past 6 years, I have weighed myself nearly every day. SIX YEARS! I’ve let the scale’s wicked numbers dictate how I feel about my body. He could boost my self-confidence for the day or bring me to tears. He was a cruel bastard while I PMS’ed, and I finally learned to stay away from him during those times. But to be fair, over the past few years he was mostly good to me. Until last fall. When those numbers kept crawling back up and I couldn’t make them go back down.

Now look, I take full responsibility for my actions and the pounds of chocolate I consumed over the holidays. My running days are still very limited, but my eating is not as controlled as before. I try to count calories, but some days I just don’t have it in me. And even when I seemed to be in a good, healthy groove,  those rotten little digits refused to go any lower.

I just can’t take it anymore. I need to cut this toxic relationship from my life….for a month.

I’m not ready to cut him from my life completely, ok? Don’t judge.

Just listen when I need to talk about him. Remind me of the cruel way he kept jumping up past the 170 mark and refused to budge. If I seem agitated and tell you that I just need to see him soon, tomorrow maybe, just to make sure my weight hasn’t skyrocketed….then hold my hand and tell me to hang on.

And if I visit your house, hide your own Mr. Scale. You heard me. Hide him!

I just need this month–the month of March–to find some self respect, to find other ways to define my self worth, to discover that I’m so much more than that damn number.

Whatever that number may be.

 

 

 

Weirdness upon weirdness

This is probably a really bad idea, but I just had to blog while the drugs from anesthesia are still swimming through my blood and my brain. Typically I just feel super tired and woozy after having a quick procedure with anesthesia, but today? Today is just plain freaky. I feel a little drunk and that all of my inner censors are on the fritz. Maybe a bit like truth serum? Like I’ve been hogtied with Wonder Woman’s Lasso of Truth.Lynda_carter-wonder-woman-golden-lasso1

I had to stop myself from commenting on other people’s FB statuses.  Seriously, the shit I nearly said was ridiculous. Truthful, perhaps, but not necessary and sometimes hurtful. As much as it feels like my brain is going wacky, I was glad I had at least a smidge of self-control.

And my family? Well, they’re still here. I didn’t scare them off too much. I *did* spray my husband with the squirt bottle we have for one of our cats, but hey! He was seriously irritating me and being a male chauvinist pig. So I let him have it. And it was truly awesome. (And he still made me dinner, so I guess all is good.) My son is doing well although I did yell at him. There was a lot of him whining this afternoon about a topic we continuously argue about, and I just couldn’t deal with it. I yelled, he whined again, then somehow I found some inner calm that I didn’t know I had. I said no to his request AGAIN, the reasons why, and the list of toys he was about to lose. He cried, I cried, we hugged and at this point we’re doing ok.

Oh. The crying. There have been a few bouts of that off and on since the hospital visit. The tears feel like they’re swirling in my gut and slowly rising up, winding around my heart and in my chest, until a little strangled cry comes out of my mouth and just a few trickles of water from the corners of my eyes.

I’m not sure what the crying is about. Relief it’s over? Yes. Still a tiny smidge worried about the results? Yup. Emotions a mess because of the drugs? Absolutely! But since I held my boy and we both had a good cry? I think those scary little convulsions may be over. I certainly hope so.

I think the rest of this evening will be filled with watching Big Bang Theory with the family, reading to my boy and hopefully dreamless sleep. Or at least no bizarre dreams. Unless Wonder Woman is involved. 🙂

What Would Wonder Woman Do? (WWWWD)

If you know me, you know that I have a “thing” for Wonder Woman.  Lynda Carter’s Wonder Woman was the first person I idolized (besides my sister), or more precisely, I wanted to BE her.  What woman doesn’t want to be strong and sexy and pilot an invisible jet?

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I’m all jazzed up after a 6-miler.

Since I’ve started running, I’ve thought a lot about Wonder Woman and how she has inspired me over the years.  I realize I will never be superhuman or immortal or even be able to fly that invisible jet, but strong and sexy?   THAT is something to strive for, and something I occasionally feel.

I’ve felt so, so good about my running these past few weeks.  I haven’t run very fast or even lots of miles, but I’ve just felt so good about myself and my body (and yes, even WITH that stubborn extra 5 pounds).  I know the good feeling has seeped into my home life (less yelling at my kiddo, less arguing with my spouse) and sometimes it’s evident at work, too.  I still worry about the results of my upcoming surgery and the lack of running, but I’m trying VERY hard not to whine about it.

Seriously, would Wonder Woman whine because she broke a heel from her boot?  HELL, NO!  She’d fix the boot or just go barefoot. (I mean, really, those boots can’t be comfortable ALL the time.)  The woman wouldn’t whine or complain, she’d just do something about the problem.

Now THAT is something else I need to strive for–no whining! Or how about minimize my whining? 🙂

Wish me luck!