Any woman will tell you how frustrating it is to bleed. Unlike men, we don’t just bleed. We bleed. And it can last for a week without the blessed relief of death. I’m kidding, or am I?
When I was 35 years old I had a partial hysterectomy. I was having horrible periods, my gynecologist and psychiatrist were partially controlling my mood issues with birth control pills (mostly successfully), but I had reached that magic age where that wasn’t going to work anymore. So they took out my uterus and cervix. Problem solved. Sort of.
When I was 39 I had surgery on my legs to deal with a skin issue. I have a condition where I get huge cysts that get infected and ooze yuck. Part of the oozing was blood, so even though I no longer had a period I was still dealing with getting blood on my clothes at random times. UGH.
The surgery mostly dealt with that, at least until the cysts moved into my groin. Wow, nothing like having cysts in your lady bits.
I’m taking Humira injections once a week plus two pills to try to combat this. It SUCKS but most of the time I know when I’ve got something active.
Evidently today is one of those days and I just got blindsided.
The good news is that it doesn’t hurt, and I’m wearing pants that should hide any spots. But for fuck sake, enough is enough.
- eating a bowl of ice cream isn’t going to make the world end
- “traditional” meal prep isn’t necessarily right for me – I get bored too easily
- variety is crucial; this includes a little junk every now and then
- my mental health is every bit as important as my physical health; I can’t neglect one in favor of the other
- this is a process
- Lancelot thinks I’m beautiful no matter what
- I lost 1lb since Monday even with eating the ice cream last night
The lighting in my office is horrid. But yes, I’m wearing tie-dye. This is a high-low skirt and kimono style vest over a white tank. I got the combo at the art festival a few weeks ago. I made the jewelry. I think this may be my new favorite outfit.
Mom and I are trying to eat healthy dinners together and I’m trying to have healthy lunches but I really have realized that having the exact same lunch every day is not for me. There will be similar pieces, such as fresh clementines and hard boiled eggs, but I’m going to try for something a little different. If I have a salad I’ll try to put different things on it, you know, stuff like that.
I know for damn sure that if I get bored with the food I’ll drop this damn “healthy eating” thing like a hot rock.
Yes, it’s a pain in the ass to make a lunch every night, but the pay off will be worth it.
One down, 99 to go…
I currently weigh 269lbs. I am 5’6″ tall. Depending on who you ask I am considered Morbidly Obese even though I am constantly told, even by medical professionals, that I don’t look that heavy.
But I am. And I’ve decided that being that heavy is almost certainly the root of my discontent these days.
My body hurts, almost constantly. It just plain doesn’t feel right. And I get tired entirely too easily.
These aren’t part of a larger, more sinister, issue. This is me not having taken proper care of my body for far too long. I will own this issue because it’s mine to own.
So what’s my goal? I will lose 100lbs by June 24, 2020.
Before anyone panics, that would still have me at a healthy weight for my height. I am also doing this at the recommendation of my doctors. I have no intention of doing a crash diet, using laxatives or stimulants, starving myself, exercising to the point of excess, or anything that is otherwise not healthy. I plan to be more diligent about my food and drink choices and increase my activity, namely walking.
I can do this. I will do this. Lancelot and Mom are doing it with me, though I don’t think either of them plan to lose as much. We will support each other.
I’m telling you all about this because I need to be held accountable. And maybe you’re looking for someone to inspire you or make you feel better about your progress. Who knows.
I will share good recipes as I come across them, I promise you that. Sometimes that’s the hardest part.
Here we go… 100 or bust.
The end of the week was, for a long time in my world, just the end of the week. I won’t say that it was awful, but it wasn’t amazing. Mom and I would usually spend all day Saturday running around – errands, shopping, whatever other trouble we could find – exhausting ourselves. On Sunday we might do things around the house, or attempt to recover.
How can you not love that smile? Seriously. And that’s little Riley the River Otter on his shoulder. Riley came home with me from the aquarium in the Dubai Mall. It’s not uncommon for L to include one of the “kids” in the pic when he sends me a selfie. He’s adorable and sweet and treats me with respect and I love him.
So now weekends are usually spent doing stuff together like cooking, eating out, going to movies, watching movies on the couch, and lately we’ve been going to the local farmer’s markets with Mom. Good times.
I wouldn’t say that my weekends are necessarily better, they’re different. I always had a good time with my mom, and I definitely have a good time with L. I do look forward to the weekend just a little more, mostly because, well, grown up things. Y’all know what I mean.
Last night I was able to get another necklace pendant put together. I’m planning to wear it next week with a new outfit. I’m still trying to put together new things to wear. I seriously think that part of my Case of the Blahs has to do with my “look.” I want to look like I feel and I’ve been feeling younger lately. I’ll just blame L for that.
At any rate, I’m still doing my best to get my “poo in a pile” as Dr. K would say. I’m trying to do better with the food and I’m making sure to make time for the activities I enjoy. Working my DBT skills like a good kid.
Evidently what I needed was to get the ol’ creative juices flowing again. And, oddly enough, I’ve done some of that through cooking.
That was actually last week, but we’re counting it. Balsamic marinated chicken with a Balsamic Caprese salad. Super easy and amazingly delicious.
That was just a few nights ago. Salmon, zucchini noodles with caramelized
onions and cherry tomatoes, and quinoa. It was my first attempt at cooking quinoa and only my second time doing the zucchini noodles like that. Oh. My. GAWD.
I’m trying to eat better because I’ve really let that lapse here lately and I’m seriously thinking all of the junk I’ve been putting in my body is taking a toll. Mom is on the bandwagon with me, as is Lancelot. It helps when everyone is trying to get healthy.
And then there’s this…
Miz K and I finally got some pics we’d taken around campus framed and hung in our small consultation room. We’ve only been in this space almost a year, not like we were rushing anything. I took two and she took two. The frames were a donation from Dr. K so there really wasn’t any cost. And the color totally helps. We’ve picked out four more, ones that represent the seasons, that we’re going to hang up later this week.
But wait, there’s more…
That’s one of the shawls I’m working on. The pattern is called Stormy Sky and the yarn is a Knit Picks Stroll Tonal, I can’t remember the name of the color. It’s soft and beautiful and the pattern is super easy. You start with the one corner and work the stripes out from there. This is typically my early morning project.
But wait, one more…
I had ordered some gorgeous lampwork beads from an artist I adore. Last night I decided that I needed an instant gratification project. These two pendants are part of the result of that. I also put together some bits from a bead show L and I went to earlier this year. I’m thinking tonight I might make something else.
I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder in 2006, shortly before my 30th birthday. I’ve been in what I consider “active” recovery since 2009, shortly after my 4th (and final) suicide attempt. Most of the time I’m pretty good, like stable enough that your average stranger wouldn’t notice anything unusual about me. Well, nothing unusual aside from the strange hair and my unique fashion sense.
But sometimes I’m off my game and I need to hit my own reset button. This seems to be one of those times.
The doc started me on a new med to try to help with the tremors that I have, caused by Lithium. Maybe it’s the slowed heart rate that’s resulting from that.
Two years ago I had a breast cancer scare. I just went in for my mammogram last week and was rather nervous about it. Maybe it was the anxiety from that.
Work is getting ridiculously busy again, a little earlier than usual. Every time I think I’m going to get caught up I feel like yet another paper avalanche happens. Maybe it’s the stress from that.
I did something to piss off my back and I’ve been entertaining a headache for several days now. I’m still not sure what caused either, but that could be the culprit.
Regardless, I’m not feeling like myself and I don’t like it one bit.
I’ve been redecorating my office a bit. I’ve been buying new clothes, changing up my look. I’ve changed some of the bits in the bedroom.
I’m not sure what else to do, but I’ll keep trying. Something will hit the reset button in a meaningful way and I’ll be back on track.
There really isn’t such a thing as “better” when discussing mental illness unless you’re talking about degrees of illness. I will never be “better” like someone who has had a broken arm can be considered “better” because the bone has mended. I will never be “better” like someone who had pneumonia is “better” because the pneumonia is gone.
I am a million times “better” than I was ten years ago.
I have struggled, I have hit rock bottom and kept digging, I hurt the people I loved, I did horrible things to hurt myself.
I am a million times “better” because I have learned strategies and I’m more in touch with my body and the way it talks to me. I listen to my doctors and my mother and Lancelot when they tell me I’m not acting like myself. I take care of myself. I take my medicine. I sleep.
I won’t ever be cured, or healed, or however else you want to describe it. There will always be times of struggle. There will always be tweaks to meds. There will always be a need for therapy. There will always be constant care and feeding of the demon Bipolar, and that will always be my full time responsibility.
That’s how I am “better” than I was ten years ago.