Head and body--reaching a detente?

One of the things I hear over and over is that weight loss surgery is on your body--not your head, and if you don't take care of the issues that made you overweight in the first place you will not be successful in the long term.  So I'm really trying to examine what it is that drove me to overeat.

The answer very frequently comes down to avoiding negative feelings. 

I was diagnosed as Bipolar type 2 in 2001 (yes, it's different than regular Bipolar or Manic Depression as it is mostly on the depressive side, with an occasional side of hyper and, for me, anxiety).  I consider myself lucky, as it is pretty mild--to the point that only my very closest friends knew that I had issues.  I was REALLY good at hiding it at work and to casual friends.  I developed a whole set of coping skills that consisted of me hiding whatever emotional state I was in.

Turns out, that's not a great idea.  1.  It means you are a lot harder to diagnose, and less likely to get the problem addressed.  2.  It means that your state of life requires hiding who you really are, and how you really feel, which becomes a huge hit to your self-esteem.  3.  It means that you have to find a way to cope with the dichotomy.  For me, it was food.  I regulated my emotions with lots of carbs (found out later that carbs boost serotonin as well as your fat cells), with sugar, and with fat.  All of those things, in mass quantities (which I also hid from the world, for a long time anyway), are really effective in blocking out your feelings.  Temporarily.  But they tend to rear their ugly heads eventually--in the form of 350 pounds.

I knew that after surgery I would have a lot of emotional work to do, and that I would have a hard time letting go of the food.  There have been times that I had a whole meal of just bread.  There have been times that I overate to the point that I thought I would die from the pain.  To me, these are the limits that I knew I would have to test, and that I need to learn from--quickly. 

And for the most part, I have.  I get a "cheat meal" each week, and then I go back to high protein, low carb and lower fat foods the rest of the time.   That means that when I get into emotional trouble now, I don't have my default coping mechanism of stuffing my feelings down by stuffing down food.  Angry, sad, lonely happens to everyone, but it feels to me like I get them stronger.  Not only because I have a tendency to intense feelings, but because when you don't express them they build up and get out of control.

The funny thing is that I've figured out that the best way to express and work out these negative feelings is body-based.  I always thought that the depression, bad feelings, and loneliness were thoughts and feelings in my head and the only way to get them out was to use my head (agonizing about everything) or my belly (filling it up until I was numbed by the serotonin).  I try to do pilates, meditation, and body movement to get rid of and deal with stress better.  I make myself "play dates" to keep from being too lonely.  I take deep breaths whenever I can.  I take a bubble bath, or clean out my closet of clothes that don't fit. 

All of them lean to the physical realm.  And I'm finding that  a lot of these things can help regulate those uncomfortable feelings.  I'll admit that it's not as easy and fast as pizza, and that there are times I forget, and that it's really hard.  I'm hoping to eventually come to a truce between my head, my heart and my body.  Right now, they are all in talks (see how political I am?).  There are occasional outbursts, but it doesn't seem to be a full-out war anymore--it's more of a Switzerland-type state of neutrality.

Honestly I don't think that I will ever win the war, but if a detente is enough to bring the Cold War up to a comfortable room-temperature, I'll take it.



So it seems like there

Disappointment in myself

WARNING:  This post is not as HI-larious as most of them.  Sorry about that for those of you reading for my humor--I'll try again later today or tomorrow.

I'm just having a down sort of day, mostly because I'm mad at myself.  Since having my weightloss surgery, I've been a very brave soldier.  I've had 2 operations, 3 ER visits, a couple of "procedures," and major dental work.  I've started working out diligently--I bought a bathing suit and go swimming, I can stay on the elliptical for almost 20 minutes (after a 10 minute warmup), I lift weights, and I'm doing one-on-one pilates.  I never thought I would do any of those things, and should be proud of myself for doing them.

Instead, I've been focusing lately on what I can't do.  I have lost about 130 lbs., yet I still can't shop in a "normal" size clothing store.  I still can't go too much farther than 30 minutes of cardio.  I feel as though I still am trying to gain back the muscle I've lost.  I have a hard time with eating at night, and I don't always get in enough protein.

And this morning, I was supposed to go to a new bellydancing class I got at a great deal from Groupon.  I chickened out and didn't go.  I'm not sure why, but I just couldn't.  I know that this is super-stupid, and that it isn't a big deal to go and shake my still-big belly that has 10 (or 12--I've lost count) little stabby scars (I'm still going to tell people I got into a knife fight).  I know that belly dancers, real ones, have bellies, and they don't care, and they still look beautiful even with rolls and pudge.  But I somehow can't get myself into that picture.  And I'm really mad at myself for letting my fear and body-shame stop me from something that could have been so much fun.

That's what I used to do.  I let my self-consciousness stop me from doing wonderful, fun and adventurous things.  I told myself that after surgery I wasn't going to let fear or self-consciousness stop me from doing new things--things I might (or might not) like.  But here I am, sitting at my computer instead of shaking my stuff.  Right now, I totally suck.

I did make myself go put on my (adorable) swimsuit, and promised myself that I would not take it off until I'd gone to the gym and done some swimming.  Oh, and then get back into the ladies locker room before taking it off--they frown upon skinny dipping at public pools.  I gave myself a deadline of going by noon, so I'm signing off and heading out (it's 12:05, so I'm pushing it).

What do you do when the only person you can be mad at is yourself?

The best-laid plans...

I had a plan today:
8:30: Weight Watchers meeting
9:30: Go grocery shopping armed with my food plan.
10:30: Swing by the pharmacy on the way home to pick up a prescription
Afternoon: Cleaning my kitchen and poaching chicken for the upcoming week's healthy meals.
Evening: Go to dinner with my friend A.

Yeah. Here's what really happened:

7:30: Wake up enough to realize that my alarm has been going off for a while. Hit snooze.
7:39: Why the hell do alarm clock companies think that 9 minutes=snoozing? 'Cause it doesn't. Roll over and hit "off"
8:30: Wake to the Beast's paw on my forehead. Look at clock and realize that there was no time-space continuum that existed in any dimension that would get me to the Weight Watchers meeting on time. Push away beast and roll over.
8:35: Half-asleep still, I wonder if I should try to go to church? I am, after all, trying to find a way to expand my social life and become more actualized. I sit up to think of a plan.
8:47: Realize with a start that although I had sat up, I fell asleep sitting on the side of the bed. Realize this because I very nearly fell off the bed. Decide that if I'm falling asleep sitting up that I'm too tired for church and lay back down. Abstractly notice that my seated upright snooze was about 9 minutes.
10:50: Have to pee. Go to bathroom. Fall asleep on toilet.
11:10: Wake up by almost falling off toilet. Look at clock and note that HA! I may have snoozed, but it was for about 20 minutes, not 9. Take that, alarm clock makers! Collect myself enough to go take my pills and drink some cold water to help wake me up.
11:15: Decided that I'd already screwed up my plan for the day, and that maybe leaving the house wasn't in the cards for me. Settled in to watch old DVR shows and visit Facebook.
2:00: Ate leftovers. Realize this is an improvement from last Sunday, when I at old microwaved popcorn for lunch because I didn't have any food in the house. (That's right, I didn't go grocery shopping that day either). Continue on the path of DVR clean up.
5:30: Spoke to A., who couldn't make it for dinner. Decide to order pizza.
5:45: Realize that I hadn't showered today, so ran to get a quick shower before pizza delivery person could get here and judge me on my greasy hair and poor nutritional habits.
6:30: Lengthy conversation with The Mom, until pizza arrived.
7:30-rest of evening: Ate pizza, watched movie, went on line, blah blah blah.

I think I could use this example in a gameshow I like to call, Single or Chronically Depressed? (where contestant have to decide which type of person this schedule belonged to.)

Sometimes it is really fun to throw all of your plans out of the window and express your freedom from others by doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING all day, because no one is there to tell you to shower and take out the trash. And sometimes it's just a wasted day, and I have to shrug it off and vow to do better next Sunday.