One of the things I decided to do when starting my new schedule was to make sure the start of my day was computer free. For years I would either get up, exercise and get straight on the computer or I would get up and go straight on the computer.

Partly, this is sad. Partly, it’s kind of understandable given that I work with a lot of people in the US and the earlier I’m on, the better.

So when I started a couple weeks ago, I gave myself time not only for exercise but also for some computer-free time after that. I initially started it as a part of mindful eating because there was never a breakfast that went by when I wasn’t distracted. I realised that I wasn’t giving my breakfast – no matter what it was – any sort of proper attention.

What I didn’t realise is how good I would feel after doing it for just a few days.

After a short time, I began to feel better in the mornings. My outlook was sunnier, I felt more equipped to handle the day… Even days I woke up knowing it was going to be a ‘sensitive’ day weren’t quite so bad because I got a quiet start.

And it wasn’t about a ‘slow’ start either because it was out of bed and onto the Wii Fit board or out for a walk. (Better than a cup of coffee, I reckon.) It was more about not getting out of bed, putting my body through exercise stress and then hopping on the computer straight after for mental stress.

I was getting to the point where just opening up my email to take care of a few things was sending me into a mild panic attack. My heart would race as soon as the inbox was opened.

Yet what started as something I changed for mindful eating practices grew into a mindful anxiety control practice. It’s not an option for me to quit what I do online, but by postponing it for just an hour and getting up earlier so I had more time to relax into the day, I eliminated 99% of the stress.

Yes, I still have bad days, but I feel much better about handling those bad days than I used to.

More than ever, I am seeing that a little bit goes a long way – and in a lot of different directions to boot.

I meant to post before this and have learned my lesson for not writing my ideas down while I have them (they disappear!), but here I am.

Things have been going nicely – though with a few hiccups here and there – since I switched over to cutting bread, pasta and potatoes out of my diet. It hasn’t been 100% (the potatoes came after discovering how I felt after eating them), but it’s been damn close and I’m happy about that.

This weekend I did indulge in some bread, but mostly because I was recovering from getting a very big tattoo and that’s what my body wanted. I gave myself permission to do as I pleased with bread (which wasn’t much, as my stomach has shrunk some) when I got back home from the tattoo place.

As I have mentioned before, I am enlisted at an employment agency that works to help people get to where they need to be able to go out and get a job. I’m still feeling very good about it all, and at the last meeting, I was referred to a clinic of sorts. Because my weight interferes not only with my physical capabilities but with my confidence as well, I can get help with that through the agency. At the clinic, I will be meeting with a team of spcialists – from physios to nutritionists – to help me get to where I want to be.

I’m looking forward to seeing what happens, even though it probably won’t get started until after Christmas.

I do apologise for the slightly foggy update. The tattoo took a lot out of me.

Another relapse. More new fun. This time it comes with ear infection piled on top.

I swear, I’ve spent more time in bed in the past for weeks then I’ve spent awake.

Ah well. Once I’m on my feet again, it’s back to square one.

Life has decided to throw us a few more curve balls. The Bloke’s contract was terminated. He did his job too well and worked through all the backlog. I’m proud as punch of my man, but that’s thrown us into interesting waters again.

I’m not fully recovered from the flu and now it seems The Bloke starting to succumb to it. He’s cheerful, but knowing him, he’s being cheerful for my sake.

I’m in a bit of a black mood right now, I must admit. I’m trying not to get into the mentality of bad things always happening when I start getting the hang of things. I don’t want to go there because it doesn’t serve any purpose.

So here I am, trying to smile as I write this and rolling with the punches.

But I swear, if something happens to the cat or the puppy, I’m going to have some major raging at the universe to do.

The best laid plans… Isn’t that how the saying goes?

Nearly three weeks ago, I started not feeling like myself, but I chalked it up to stress. Two weeks ago, I started feeling better, but then the illness came back leaving me tired and grumpy. Last week, it struck with full vengence, leaving the days a blur of pain, sleep, coughing and other miseries.

The Flu.

I got the flu – the real influenza – for the first time in my life last year in July. It was horrible. Somehow I managed to get it again this year and it was twice as bad. I ended up in the hospital twice (once to check I didn’t have pnuemonia, once when I was coughing up blood).

Needless to say, I’m finally getting past things and am into recovery mode. To think, I started out this whole thing wondering if I’d somehow managed to get knocked up and am now grateful my lady part aren’t operational because any tike would have been put through hell being in my womb through all this.

This whole thing has been a wake up call that I want to be stronger. I don’t want things like this to happen to me. I know that no matter what I do for my health, I will get sick sometimes, but I also know I will be able to handle illness better if I’m healthier from the get go.

I’m still very weak and tired, but that’s just giving me plenty of time to contemplate how I’m going to do things from now on. The flu will not knock me three for three.

Start: 277
Current: 274

Loss: 3 pounds

Yep, riding steady this week – but only in weight.

This weekend The Bloke and I trekked up to a national park to do some bush bashing and rock climbing. Da-yum did that ever push me physically. It was a steep climb up (the views make it so worth it) and thus a step climb down.

The interesting part of the trek was how if influenced me emotionally. I knew something was challenging me on an emotional level on the way up because I had that ‘tears may be welling up in your near future’ feeling. I tried to ignore it, but you know how that goes…

On the way back down, my husband was walking in front of me (because stairs/steep declines make me nervous) and at one point I just sat down and cried. I couldn’t hold it back any longer.

My wonderful husband is used to these kind of things and was very caring about it. He had me look back up at the mountain to see how far I’d gone, was enouraging, reminded me that the climb was the hardest test of physical endurance that I’d had at this weight… (Have I mentioned my husband is made of pure essence of awesome with a dash of charming?)

Once I’d cried myself out, which didn’t take long, I began to think about my reaction and a great big, shining light bulb went on over my head. I finally connected enough of the dots to understand why I don’t like really hard exercise and rebel against anything that pushes my limits physically:

Weakness.

When I was a little girl, I was constantly on guard. I had to be careful what I said and did, to say the least. I didn’t know I was ‘on guard’ all of the time because that was my normal. But I can look back now and see that I was always ready to run or fight.

Because of this, when I exercise and push myself now, I put my body into a weakened state. Exhaustion is hell on my emotional mind because my ‘little girl’ side hasn’t caught up with the fact that I am well and truly safe now; no one is going to hurt me. So when I was going back down the mountain and felt out of breath, wobbly knees and sore, part of me was aboslutely convinced that I was leaving myself open to attack.

It’s a hard thing to realise because I know there are things that happened to me that I don’t yet remember. But recognizing how I am reacting to other things because of them has been a huge step for me. I have been exercising off and on for years – hard exercising – and it’s taken me this long to figure this out.

Even so, I am proud. I am proud of the woman I have become, able to finally connect those dots. I am also proud of the little girl I was (and partly still am) who, despite everything, had the will and the strength to survive.

I think it was Hanlie who first introduced me to the concept of havaing a team working together for my health. She opened the idea in my mind of having different professionals in different areas all coming together to help make me strong physically, mentally and emotionally.

While I didn’t take the concept to heart straight away, I am reminded of it now because I think that’s what we all need to do in our own way eventually. Everyone’s story is different and thus we will have different teams consisting of different kinds of people, but it’s having the support there that matters.

For me, creating my team started with establishing a base line to work with. I was having palpitations, my chest hurt, I was so tired and I was getting really scared. So I sat down with a GP, told him I was worried about my weight and proceeded to get pretty much everything checked out. His role in my team is slowly fading out as I am now sure of where I’m standing and losing weight.

The next person to come in on my team is my chiropractor. After a few nights where I had difficulty pretty much all the time because my hip hurt so much, I saw a chiro who made a lot of things clear to me. The first being that the fact my hips have been twisted up for pretty much all my life is directly related to my reproductive system being perfectly healthy but numb (aka non-functioning). With the nerves being pressed on, my ‘lady parts’ have never been getting the proper signals.

No wonder I’ve never had steady periods. Ever.

I would never have thought that a chiropractor could help with my fetility, but he is. It’s slowly going, but I’m getting kicks to my system. I might just get to be healthy after all.

The next members of my team came together. Another GP is overseeing my medication. Now, I don’t like to admit this because I’ve always liked the idea of being a ‘pure and natural woman’ (natural remedies only), but I was getting to such a dark place in my life that I finally admitted that I needed help. Right now, on top of my supplements, I am taking a anti-depressants. While I’m not sure they are a long-term solution for me by any means, they are helping me through now – which is what is important. I’m not glowing or – as my friend Nichol put it – ‘overly joyous’, but I am mellowing out. I’m in a more stable place than I was. It remains to be seen what happens when I’ve been taking the meds for a bit longer.

He ^ referred me to the psychologist I’m seeing. As I mentioned before, a psychologist wasn’t my first choice. BUT, he seems like a really nice guy and just being able to talk about things is amazing. He doesn’t mind The Bloke sitting in, which gives him two perspectives of my behaviour and my past. I don’t know what will come of it, but I’m looking forward to see where it will go.

Of course, The Bloke has always been on my team and has been incredibly supportive through all of this. He has put away his personal feelings about anti-depressants and psychologists in order for me to be able to try to find what works for me. That means more to me than I can say, and I think it speaks of the foundation we’re both setting up for the future.

Go team.

Well, it appeared I mucked up and have been dropped from this challenge. Sigh. I’d probably do well to join a challenge in my time zone so I don’t have to worry about getting things done at a certain time.

That’s probably okay anyway. I’m still holding steady in the no change zone, so I probably wouldn’t have made it anyway.

Start: 277
Current: 277

The good news is that I’ve had all my appointments now and things are looking okay for the most part. The results from the heart monitor pointed to me having a lot of stress and anxiety rather than anything actually wrong with my heart.

It all comes down to me having a fatty liver. The doctor didn’t say the exact words (because ‘overweight’ is more socially acceptable than ‘fat’) but he said: “You’re just fat.” That’s it. That’s the problem. No, “You’re fat and you now have diabetes”. No, “You’re fat and have a heart problem”. Just “You’re fat and you need to fix it before you get all the other problems.”

Go figure, eh?

I suppose I already sort of knew that on some level, but it’s good to have it medically confirmed that I’m ‘just fat’. It’s like being told that my life is just waiting there for me to go live it. There is nothing stopping me.

Well, nothing physically. I am still arranging help and care for the mental health side, but that’s another subject. Right now, I’m happy for the relief all this medical testing has given me. It wasn’t fun, but at least now I know.

So. I’m just fat. Okay. I can deal with that.

For me, setting a base line when getting started in anything is like setting up a good foundation for a house. I’m not sure how the house will turn out without it, but I need that foundation so I can look back to see where it all started and compare it to how far I’ve come.

Okay, so that’s not the best metaphor, but be kind; I’m tired.

I’ve decided to take part in the Plus Size Bloggers contest (that is a clickable link, byt the way) because not only does it inspire me to keep with it at a particularly stressful time (health problems coupled with my husband losing his job) but it also coincides with some ‘base line’ testing. It’s not so much that I think I can lose 15 pounds in 12 weeks (maybe I can, maybe I can’t), but now more than ever I need to have the health focus in my life.

Today I went for the always fun blood tests that will tell me my cholesterol, how close or far I am from diabetes, so on and so forth. Frankly, they took blood for tests I had never heard of before. But, at least I can say my doctor is being thorough.

Also, next Tuesday, I will be hooked up to a heart monitor for 24 hours to make sure that the palpitations I have been having aren’t anything serious to worry about. After that (on the same day) I get my blood test results.

Health and wellness is certainly on my mind. I have lost eight pounds over the last few weeks, and I’m very happy about that. But I am still worried that my venture to 285 pounds may have seen me damage more than I can imagine right now.

My doctor said I am right to be scared, and I suppose I am. Fear is a great motivator for a lot of people, so why shouldn’t it be for me.

All up, I’m nervous about Tuesday but happy I’m getting it done. I’m also happy for this contest coming in such a timely matter. So let’s hope for good results all around, shall we?

Anger is something I’ve never been particularly comfortable with. I’ve always been upset by people yelling. Anger somehow became so connected with violence in my mind and scared me so much that I dedicated myself to being a pacifist… when I was about nine years old. I’ve had my times of being so angry, but I always resorted to something ‘not quite anger’ to make it tolerable. Guilt, shame, hurt… Those I could deal with. But outright anger is something I never wanted to be a part of me.

So, you can imagine my surprise when I started working on the emotional component of my journey to health (thanks to the BED workbook) and discovered anger. A lot of anger.

Because anger was so scary to me from an early age, it has been easy for me to compartmentalise it, putting it somewhere in my mind where I didn’t have to deal with it. But, as most of us overeaters know, you have to weight that can of anger (or fear/sadness/whatever it is for you) down with food. If you don’t ‘swallow’ your emotions with a heap of food, they might come out when you don’t want to.

Well, the BED workbook is partly about opening those cans of worms so we don’t need all that food to weigh down on the tops of the cans. And my can of anger? It’s a big one.

A lot of my anger comes with a helping of wanting to play the blame game. I blame my mother for introducing me to yo-yo dieting (specifically the ‘for tomorrow we diet’ binge). I blame various family members for the abuses inflicted upon me. I blame the church I went to as a child for teaching me that pride was a sin because I could never be happy with my accomplishments. I blame myself for not standing up for myself and loving myself and doing what I know is right for me even when the world tells me I’m wrong.

This list of blame probably sounds a bit whiny and petty to some, but I have gotten past thinking of it like that. Yes, it’s petty in some respects, but this is stuff I have been purposely not feeling for years. I’m not going to let society’s feelings on what’s ‘right’ to feel and what’s ‘wrong’ to feel stop me from feeling these things and thus purging them from my system.

Yes, groan, another woman who has mother issues. My mother abused me mentally, physically and emotionally my whole life. By being angry at her now, I can move past it to get over it.

I am moving past it. I am getting over it. I am letting go and my soul feels beautiful and light.