He’s a bit thirteen weeks and 11.4 kilos. He’s going to be a big boy!

My journey to health has entered another one of its calm phases where I apply what I’m learning and see how it goes. Nutridiary is still a few times a week thing, but has really enlightened me to how much of what things are in what foods. I had no idea that eggs had so much fat and that bread was so many calories! Plus, I had no idea how much good stuff I can eat while still staying well within calories.

Exercise has been slow but steady again. With my ankle and knee still posing problems, walking (not power walking) pushes me as far as I can go. But The Bloke and I have been walking Brin together every night and we have both been seeing weight loss because of it. There have been nights we haven’t wanted to, but when you have a face like this depending on you…

Walking Brin has helped me get back into the swing of things in a hurry. In the beginning, it’s easy to make excuses for why you don’t want to do this or that, but seeing how happy walking makes Brin and encouraging exercising together with The Bloke has made the ankle and knee pain worth it.

Unfortunately we haven’t had time to find a new chiro, so I’m pretty much just dealing with it the best I can and not pushing to extremes. I slow The Bloke down a bit, but while Brin is a puppy, it’s the perfect speed for him.

With my focus going towards balancing meals and eating healthy, the numbers have become less of a ‘thing’. I’ve even lost a small amount during TOM, which never happens, so I know I’m doing well.

Comments like those on my last post help me to realise how awesome my friends are. I might not have the most popular blog with heaps of comments, but the comments I get are valuable to me and help remind me that I am not alone.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

We are now moved into the new place and I am taking a few days of rest (at least). The day of the move, my body nearly quit on me. Even though I was mostly just directing the movers, the heat and humidity (after days of packing in heat and humidity) got to me. I thought about the comments made on my previous post and I quit before my body quit for me.

I am experiencing the effects of pushing so hard, even at the end of a day spent mostly on my bum. Headaches come and go, my energy is lacking most of the time and I’m even having problems with concentrating and understanding other people talking.

This sounds serious, I know, and I am taking it seriously. One of few stops today was to the supermarket, where I got the things I know will help get my system back the way it should be like vitamin C, probiotics, etc. I’ve also been doing as Nicki suggested and just staying in the present, being aware of what’s happening now rather than continuing to run lists in my head like I have for the past month.

Talk about a cure for sleeplessness.

One thing this move has really taught me about myself is that you can’t confront your barriers with one, huge step. If you’re afraid of heights, you don’t go out skydiving on your first attempt to beat the fear. One of my ‘ticks’ has long been an annoyance that gets downright panicky if plans are changed or things are left up in the air too long. Pretty much everything about this move has last minute, up in the air, waiting to hear from people before rushing off, not knowing what the rest of the day is going to be like let alone the rest of the week…

While I never thought about it until I was able to stop and rest, I have been slamming up against that wall pretty much constantly for the past weeks. Pair that with driving a decent drive every weekend, getting jostled around by rude real estate agents… I am just grateful that The Bloke didn’t end up in as rough of shape.

Vitamin C and probiotics won’t fix everything, but I already feel better with my first decent night’s sleep. A few more of those, vitamins and slowly improving my energy levels with exercise, and I’ll be right as rain in no time.

Thank you again to Hanlie and Nicki. I still too easily forget that I have wonderful friends who wish me well.

For a lot of us who have a significant amount of weight to lose and emotional baggage hindering that process, taking care of ourselves can often seem like a foreign concept. If someone were to ask, we would say, “Yes, I take care of myself.”

But we would be lying – whether we realise it or not.

Many of us often spend time taking care of other people, all while stuffing food down our throats and neglecting our own health in an effort to ignore facing what we are going through. Other people are always more important for whatever reason. One person may be trying to buy love while another might be trying to get affection from parent figures. Who knows? The bottom line is that we end up neglecting ourselves.

For me, it took a meltdown full panic attack style to tell me that I haven’t been treating myself right since The Bloke got offered the job. Immediately, any focus that I had been directing to myself had gone outward to making sure all the moving stuff was taken care of, work was taken care of (and I still managed to narrowly miss a few disasters that way), The Bloke’s coworkers were taken care of (after all, I had to bakebakebake until I dropped for the send off morning tea) and that The Bloke was taken care of.

Not only did I do a crappy job of working with The Bloke to adjust to this time, I left not a snippet of self-care for me. Then I had a meltdown.

I was sitting in my recliner about 1.15 in the morning, trying to fix my email that I has so easily mucked up, and I just couldn’t get it to work. The Bloke had gone to bed. I was alone, tired, stress and drew my last straw. The email – my work email – suddenly flubbing up because of me with all the other crap I’d been stuffing down with food and creative ignoring came to the surface.

Sobbing, I woke up The Bloke and he calmed me. He assured me I could indeed breathe and calmed me in the way only he can as I cried and tried to keep my body from shaking. The fear from having a panic attack so strong only made things worse and it took a long time before I could finally be still. I still didn’t sleep for hours after that, but I did manage to sleep after my cat – who sensed ‘mum’ wasn’t well – came for a cuddle.

The next day, now, I am still shaky. I’ve felt the tears well up a few times and even had trouble breathing when I walked into our lounge which – this morning – was filled with half-filled boxes and various things. But today I had a mantra:

“One thing at a time.”

That mantra has helped me survive today and will help me survive the next two. Because I need to. I need to stay strong just a little longer as we sign the papers for our new place, travel back home (I’m in a hotel at the moment), pack the last of our belongings, and help cat Asimov to adjust to this new adventure.

And yet, even as I type that, my pulse begins to race.

Why have I neglected myself for so long?

Forgive me if I’m quiet for the rest of this week and over the weekend. I have promised myself a walk in the sunshine, a visit to a bookstore and a brand new book or two just for me. BEFORE I start unpacking.

When it comes to my health and fitness lately, I feel like I have come to a stand still.

Finding a rental two and a quarter hours away has proved to be a lot more difficult than I expected, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised given how little experience I have with the rental market. Anyway, what we had hoped would be taken care of with a long weekend stay up there last weekend hasn’t been taken care of. We head up there again this weekend to hopefully settle things.

Which would be good for the timing, seeing as we were hoping to move all our stuff up there February 1st.

I am keeping somewhat active with all the packing and shuffling things around, but the stress of actually finding a place is playing havoc with my immune system already. Vitamins have become an absolute must because it’s the only thing keeping me from going from a bit sniffly to outright sick.

The good news in all this is that I have a plan. It’s not going to be like our last move, which sparked off me gaining all the weight I had lost back. I have a plan on how to land on my feet, so to say, and get right back into things.

Now I just have to survive until then.

Well, after yesterday’s appointment with the doctor…

…I have no answers.

What’s going on in there?! (I so wish this was my belly.)

The pregnancy results came back negative, but after a little chat and a sigh of frustration, the doctor said that they shouldn’t have tested on blood taken that early on anyway. (I go to a clinic where it is a random drop of the hat as to which doctor you get if you don’t specify who you want.)

Soooo, she told me that I needed to come back Saturday (when I’m actually a week late) and to see her specifically. (I got the feeling that she didn’t like the random lottery style doctoring, either.)

Until then, I’m to take it easy, eat small amounts, go with bland food and keep hydrated. Same old, same old… All this taking it easy is getting annoying.

I still don’t think I’m pregnant, but I admit that could be because I’m afraid to even hope. The disappointment hurts too much. I was just not going to go back Saturday, but I do need to. My theory is that The Pill is playing funny buggers with my system and I need a new type, so I have to see a doctor about that anyway.

And there I stand.

I just want to get back to normalcy, but it looks like that will have to wait another few days…