Yesterday I went to the doctor to follow-up on the results from my sleep study. The doctor took me back to a room with a computer, and downloaded the data that was collected during my sleep. I looked through pages and pages of wavy lines and finally cast an imploring glance at my doctor. He told me that nothing was really out of the ordinary, except I take frequent 'half breaths,' and that I woke up 89 times within a five hour period.
89 times!!!!! you say? Why yes, 89 times. It turns out that there is a narrowing in my upper airway, which the doctor thinks is caused by the allergy and sinus problems I've had since I was a kid. And the whole time he's explaining this to me, I'm just thinking that he sounds like the teacher from Charlie Brown because the voice in my head was shouting, "all of your health problems happen because you're too fat. Fat, fat, fat."
Gosh, the return of that voice. I had almost forgetten it, I had almost persuaded myself that I would, in fact, be ok with out that voice. And that it came back into my life like a screaming freight train. It took the spring from my step and sparkle from my eye. And then I went back to work.
I have to say that I so grateful to have made friends with two really wonderful women who support and love and care about me without any pre-requisite. Did you ever have somebody tell you exactly what you needed to hear, exactly when you needed to hear it without being prompted to say anything? It's a feeling that's not matched by much else. Without going into detail about the issue I was having, my friends came through for me in the form of laughter, Mexican food, and beer. And you know what was strange? That voice disappeared! It didn't fade, or waver, or squeak through. It disappeared.
The rest of the night was filled with much merriment, a little more beer, and even some cardio and strength training. When I woke up this morning the sparkle and the spring had returned. The conclusion to this story is that I will have to wear some ridiculous apparatus so I can actually start sleeping through the night. But this is just an undercurrent to a broader happy ending. Because damn it, I will be ok.
I do what I can wherever I end up
To keep giving my good love
and spreading it around
Cause I've had my fair share of take care
and goodbyes
I've learned how to cry
And I'm better for that...
Friday, February 22, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
I'm a New Soul
So, today a friend and I were exchanging pleasantries. I asked how he was doing, and he reciprocated the question. And all I could think was that I am doing great! Nothing is fabulous or perfect or wrapped up in a neat and tiny package, but I feel great. This insight made me think of how good I really do have it, and that I forget to be grateful for such an enriched life. So here is my list o' thankfuls.
1. The bright sunshine and clear blue sky that I got to look at all day from the window at my desk.
2. A handsome and quite hilarious little nephew.
3. Photographers who take pictures of John Mayer and his luscious, hungry-for-my-skin lips.
4. Coworkers with good attitudes.
5. Friends who remind me that traits like being kind and selfless are not weaknesses.
I was sad to hear that Pink and Carey Hart are separating after a two year marriage, and a four year courtship. Don't get me wrong, a single Carey Hart is the best kind of Carey Hart, but I sort of rooted for his marriage to succeed. I like it when non-conventional celebrities who shun the standards of Hollywood beauty and behavior get involved. It makes me feel like there is hope for the rest of us schmucks just trying to figure it all out.
Perhaps the reason my day has been so lovely is because I've had this song playing in my head since I woke up. I'm thinking about putting it on indefinite repeat.
1. The bright sunshine and clear blue sky that I got to look at all day from the window at my desk.
2. A handsome and quite hilarious little nephew.
3. Photographers who take pictures of John Mayer and his luscious, hungry-for-my-skin lips.
4. Coworkers with good attitudes.
5. Friends who remind me that traits like being kind and selfless are not weaknesses.
I was sad to hear that Pink and Carey Hart are separating after a two year marriage, and a four year courtship. Don't get me wrong, a single Carey Hart is the best kind of Carey Hart, but I sort of rooted for his marriage to succeed. I like it when non-conventional celebrities who shun the standards of Hollywood beauty and behavior get involved. It makes me feel like there is hope for the rest of us schmucks just trying to figure it all out.
Perhaps the reason my day has been so lovely is because I've had this song playing in my head since I woke up. I'm thinking about putting it on indefinite repeat.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Marked Drowsiness May Occur
The whole process around having a baby is weird to me. Maybe weird isn't the right word, but I can't think of anything better right now. I went to a baby shower today for one of my coworkers/friends and I had to marvel a bit in the things people do to have a baby.
Earlier this week, a friend and I made a trip to Babies R Us to buy gifts for today's shower. We printed a copy of the baby registry and set out to find a few items within our price range. I immediately was sent into sensory overload. The shelves were packed floor to ceiling with diapers, bottles, toys, strollers, and monitors. I counted at least 20 different types of pacifiers. I was drowning in sea of blue, pink, yellow, and green. I felt like I was going to hyperventilate. My friend and I quickly asked sales clerk for help and got the hee-haw out of there.
Up until a few years ago, all of the baby showers I attended were for family members. Then I became an adult and all of sudden experienced the onslaught of pregnant friends. Watching someone open baby gifts is kinds of like buying a magazine that touts a fabulous cover story, and then finding out that the article is something you've already read. It's anticlimactic. Everyone knows what the showeree (?) is going to receive, and delivers the obligatory ooh's and aah's as required. And promptly gets drunk on too much mimosa.
I am being half sarcastic. My expectant friend has embraced every step of her pregnancy and she and her husband are genuinely thrilled to be having a baby. They are both smart, practical, and hard working people who I am sure will raise a wonderful little boy. And I think it's great to be able to celebrate something that is so life changing with friends and family. I'm just wondering if having a pizza-and-a-movie shower is a major faux pas. Probably another sign that I definitely should not bear offspring, eh?
So, last night a friend surprised me with tickets to Spamalot. And it was fantastic. It made me miss the high school all-nighters my friends would pull to watch Monty Python marathons. Afterwards, my friend and I headed to a local pub to have dinner with some of our other friends. Towards the end of our dinner, I headed to the bathroom and passed a huge group of guys on the way. As I turned sideways to slide between the group, one of the guys reached out and grabbed my breast. The left one! I was so completely shocked that I just stood there, mouth agape. When I was younger, being groped in a bar wasn't that odd an occurrence, especially given that I was at dance clubs with 18 and 19 year old boys. The guy last night had to have been in his 30s, and we were standing in the middle of a pub.
I finally gathered my composure as the boob grazer smirked and winked at me. Not knowing what else to do, I reached out, gave his nipple a squeeze, and proceeded to the bathroom. On my way out, his buddies were high-fiving me and giving me kudos for the avenged breast grab. As much as I wanted to be angry and feel violated, I couldn't help but feel a little proud of myself. I mean, the guy is probably just glad he didn't grab my crotch.
You're the type of guy who doesn't lie
He just doctors everything
Chooses some unassuming finger
And quietly moves his wedding ring
Who rewrites his autobiography for any pretty girl who'll sing
But you can't fool the queen, baby, cuz I married the king
Earlier this week, a friend and I made a trip to Babies R Us to buy gifts for today's shower. We printed a copy of the baby registry and set out to find a few items within our price range. I immediately was sent into sensory overload. The shelves were packed floor to ceiling with diapers, bottles, toys, strollers, and monitors. I counted at least 20 different types of pacifiers. I was drowning in sea of blue, pink, yellow, and green. I felt like I was going to hyperventilate. My friend and I quickly asked sales clerk for help and got the hee-haw out of there.
Up until a few years ago, all of the baby showers I attended were for family members. Then I became an adult and all of sudden experienced the onslaught of pregnant friends. Watching someone open baby gifts is kinds of like buying a magazine that touts a fabulous cover story, and then finding out that the article is something you've already read. It's anticlimactic. Everyone knows what the showeree (?) is going to receive, and delivers the obligatory ooh's and aah's as required. And promptly gets drunk on too much mimosa.
I am being half sarcastic. My expectant friend has embraced every step of her pregnancy and she and her husband are genuinely thrilled to be having a baby. They are both smart, practical, and hard working people who I am sure will raise a wonderful little boy. And I think it's great to be able to celebrate something that is so life changing with friends and family. I'm just wondering if having a pizza-and-a-movie shower is a major faux pas. Probably another sign that I definitely should not bear offspring, eh?
So, last night a friend surprised me with tickets to Spamalot. And it was fantastic. It made me miss the high school all-nighters my friends would pull to watch Monty Python marathons. Afterwards, my friend and I headed to a local pub to have dinner with some of our other friends. Towards the end of our dinner, I headed to the bathroom and passed a huge group of guys on the way. As I turned sideways to slide between the group, one of the guys reached out and grabbed my breast. The left one! I was so completely shocked that I just stood there, mouth agape. When I was younger, being groped in a bar wasn't that odd an occurrence, especially given that I was at dance clubs with 18 and 19 year old boys. The guy last night had to have been in his 30s, and we were standing in the middle of a pub.
I finally gathered my composure as the boob grazer smirked and winked at me. Not knowing what else to do, I reached out, gave his nipple a squeeze, and proceeded to the bathroom. On my way out, his buddies were high-fiving me and giving me kudos for the avenged breast grab. As much as I wanted to be angry and feel violated, I couldn't help but feel a little proud of myself. I mean, the guy is probably just glad he didn't grab my crotch.
You're the type of guy who doesn't lie
He just doctors everything
Chooses some unassuming finger
And quietly moves his wedding ring
Who rewrites his autobiography for any pretty girl who'll sing
But you can't fool the queen, baby, cuz I married the king
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Bodacious TaTa's
I have a new hero, and her name is Margaux Laskey.
I could probably spend an entire day talking about how affected I was by this woman, but I really think that I can sum it all up in a few points.
- I love that this performance opens up discussion about body image, dieting, and eating disorders within families.
- I think it's great that Margaux addresses media and advertising in a humorous way. It doesn't sound bitter or martyr-ish.
- I love the imagery of the mannequins with bold numbers across the chest. It makes the topic of disordered eating more palpable.
- The symbolism of both the number 8 and the sizeate concept. Because exclusivity is so overated.
An event occurred today that reminded of how wonderful my life really is. I forget sometimes to be grateful for the people and things in my life that are good and true. It's days like today that motivate me to get better and be a positive light to others. It's days like today when I can't help but smile.
Sing it like you mean it
Make me believe it
Dream it like you own it
The party aint stoppin till we've outgrown it
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
But You're Neither Friend nor Foe
You know those days or weeks or months when you feel like everyone and everything is beating you up, and testing your tenacity? I feel like I'm having on of those weeks, only it seems like every situation is magnified by about 1000.
I've been crying a lot lately...like, a lot lot. Crying all the time can become a bit cumbersome because it makes things like working, and driving, and watching tv a little difficult. Maybe I can talk to my boss about having my computer moved into the bathroom so I can just sit in there and sniffle all day. Ok, I'm being a bit silly right now, but I have been feeling a little fragile this past week. There is a lot of potential change on the horizon for me. First, my parents are thinking about moving to Tennessee. While there is a part of me that would be really happy to have them closer, there is an even larger part of me that's wigging out. I feel like I'm just starting to assert my indepence as a separate entity of my mother. I'm afraid that her moving her might affect some of the progress I've made.
My landlord emailed me last week about a one-bedroom apartment he has available in the building next door to my current place. As of yesterday, I was pretty much dead set on moving into the new place. I had the revelation today that I don't think I'm ready to live alone. As much as I would like to come home to an empty house sometimes, I would much rather come home to a supportive and caring person like my roommate. Plus, I'm really trying to focus on avoiding isolating rituals, and I'm worried that living on my own might aid me in slipping into some of my old habits. So even though I have to wait for the bathroom and not play music after 10PM, I think I'll be happier in the long run.
Work is making me cranky and I think I need a vacation. I'm struggling with wanting to advance my career, but still keep work at work. I love my job, and that's something I've never really felt before last year. I feel like I actually have a career now, and when I go home on a Friday afternoon, I feel like I've made a difference. What's uncertain to me, is how to parlay that into a successful management opportunity. I'm scared that I won't be able to manage people well. I'm scared that I'll be too much of a friend, or too much of a boss, or just too much of everything. Maybe I'm just wishing I could skip the learning curve and be good at everything immediately.
Even though I'm facing some uncertainty, I feel like I'm equipped to face it. And it finally feels so good to be able to express emotion instead of bottling it up and letting it out in other ways.
Set me free, leave me be
I don't want to fall another moment
Into your gravity
Here I am, and I stand so tall
Just the way I'm supposed to be
But you're on to me, and all over me
I've been crying a lot lately...like, a lot lot. Crying all the time can become a bit cumbersome because it makes things like working, and driving, and watching tv a little difficult. Maybe I can talk to my boss about having my computer moved into the bathroom so I can just sit in there and sniffle all day. Ok, I'm being a bit silly right now, but I have been feeling a little fragile this past week. There is a lot of potential change on the horizon for me. First, my parents are thinking about moving to Tennessee. While there is a part of me that would be really happy to have them closer, there is an even larger part of me that's wigging out. I feel like I'm just starting to assert my indepence as a separate entity of my mother. I'm afraid that her moving her might affect some of the progress I've made.
My landlord emailed me last week about a one-bedroom apartment he has available in the building next door to my current place. As of yesterday, I was pretty much dead set on moving into the new place. I had the revelation today that I don't think I'm ready to live alone. As much as I would like to come home to an empty house sometimes, I would much rather come home to a supportive and caring person like my roommate. Plus, I'm really trying to focus on avoiding isolating rituals, and I'm worried that living on my own might aid me in slipping into some of my old habits. So even though I have to wait for the bathroom and not play music after 10PM, I think I'll be happier in the long run.
Work is making me cranky and I think I need a vacation. I'm struggling with wanting to advance my career, but still keep work at work. I love my job, and that's something I've never really felt before last year. I feel like I actually have a career now, and when I go home on a Friday afternoon, I feel like I've made a difference. What's uncertain to me, is how to parlay that into a successful management opportunity. I'm scared that I won't be able to manage people well. I'm scared that I'll be too much of a friend, or too much of a boss, or just too much of everything. Maybe I'm just wishing I could skip the learning curve and be good at everything immediately.
Even though I'm facing some uncertainty, I feel like I'm equipped to face it. And it finally feels so good to be able to express emotion instead of bottling it up and letting it out in other ways.
Set me free, leave me be
I don't want to fall another moment
Into your gravity
Here I am, and I stand so tall
Just the way I'm supposed to be
But you're on to me, and all over me
Monday, February 11, 2008
But it Ain't a Balloon I Can Just Let Go
I’ve been pretty pleased with my progress since I started working with Dr. Gray about a year ago. I’ve really busted down a lot of the walls I had built, and I’ve confronted a lot of the issues that have built up for so many years. I still feel like there’s been something holding me back from a full recovery, and I think I finally gave it a name during my last session: shame.
I am starting to see places in my life where I am apologizing for myself. I’m not talking about anything as blatant as an actual apology, I’m talking about something dangerously subtle. Something that kind of simmers under the surface and is hot enough to impact my actions, thoughts, feelings, and self-confidence. See, shame isn’t something that’s necessarily that easy to pick out and name. I think a lot of reason I feel shame is because I think I’m bad or out of control or lazy or stupid when it comes to eating healthfully. Part of it stems from all of the feedback I get when I lose weight. Things like, “oh, you are such a good girl!” or, “you must have such strong willpower!” The reason I was losing weight was because I was starving myself, or throwing up everything I ate or exercising three hours a day. It wasn’t because I was good, strong, controlled, or motivated. It was because the coping mechanism I had developed so long ago wasn't helping me cope anymore.
I think I have been looking for someone or something to blame for a long time, and typically I turned to myself to assign blame. It was my fault that I wasn’t thin enough, and subsequently I didn’t deserve the same treatment that should be granted to every human being. I let myself become invisible, or I told myself I couldn’t be a part of anything good. Having shame is probably one of the worst emotions of which to break free. It’s not like anger, sadness, or happiness; there is nothing to expel to express or purge shame. Dictionary.com defines shame as the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another. And I really can't think of a better way to describe how I've felt the last couple months.
I am starting to see places in my life where I am apologizing for myself. I’m not talking about anything as blatant as an actual apology, I’m talking about something dangerously subtle. Something that kind of simmers under the surface and is hot enough to impact my actions, thoughts, feelings, and self-confidence. See, shame isn’t something that’s necessarily that easy to pick out and name. I think a lot of reason I feel shame is because I think I’m bad or out of control or lazy or stupid when it comes to eating healthfully. Part of it stems from all of the feedback I get when I lose weight. Things like, “oh, you are such a good girl!” or, “you must have such strong willpower!” The reason I was losing weight was because I was starving myself, or throwing up everything I ate or exercising three hours a day. It wasn’t because I was good, strong, controlled, or motivated. It was because the coping mechanism I had developed so long ago wasn't helping me cope anymore.
I think I have been looking for someone or something to blame for a long time, and typically I turned to myself to assign blame. It was my fault that I wasn’t thin enough, and subsequently I didn’t deserve the same treatment that should be granted to every human being. I let myself become invisible, or I told myself I couldn’t be a part of anything good. Having shame is probably one of the worst emotions of which to break free. It’s not like anger, sadness, or happiness; there is nothing to expel to express or purge shame. Dictionary.com defines shame as the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another. And I really can't think of a better way to describe how I've felt the last couple months.
Even as I write this, there is a little voice in the back of my head telling me that I lack the control, and motivation, and clean soul to get past my eating disorder. Even as I am telling myself that I deserve love, affection, and trusting relationships, there is an even louder voice saying that I should feel lucky that there is anyone who wants to spend time with me. I think I may have just hit the hardest and most highest bump in the road. But, my real voice is getting louder and stronger and I know - wholeheartedly - that the real voice is going to win in the end. So there.
what's with that halo hovering
above that thick skull
spare me
if i do say so - i think you're covering
'course there was nothing
could've prepared me
for the side effect of this dirty drug
the way you punish me and then you shrug
what's with that phone call, baby
it's like you're trying
just to crush me
do you feel stronger each time you push me, dear
did you tell your mom you carpet bombed
right before you left here
are you at home now with your kitty cat
are you just at home now with the way that you act
do you split the rent there with all your secrets
or do you just pretend to all your friends
they're uninvited guests
yes and when you want it tidy tell me
can you still dispel me
sweep me neatly under the rug
does your conscience ever mention
the way that you treat me
or do you just fend it off with a ...
The Top 10 Things I'd Rather Not Hear Discussed at Work
10. What you plan to buy at the grocery tonight.
09. Why you won’t eat food made by people who own cats.
08. How hot you think Tim McGraw looks in his jeans.
07. The groin infection your son may have.
06. How much money you spent (or didn’t spend) on any particular item of clothing.
05. Any positive statements regarding the current US president.
04. The fungus you got on your toe from your last pedicure.
03. Faith Hill belting mediocre pop-country songs from your tinny radio.
02. Inane, loud laughter based on some inner-office IM you received.
01. References to last night’s intimate liaisons with your spouse.
09. Why you won’t eat food made by people who own cats.
08. How hot you think Tim McGraw looks in his jeans.
07. The groin infection your son may have.
06. How much money you spent (or didn’t spend) on any particular item of clothing.
05. Any positive statements regarding the current US president.
04. The fungus you got on your toe from your last pedicure.
03. Faith Hill belting mediocre pop-country songs from your tinny radio.
02. Inane, loud laughter based on some inner-office IM you received.
01. References to last night’s intimate liaisons with your spouse.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Those Days Were My Favorite
I spent part of today emailing back and forth with two of my oldest and closest girlfriends from my hometown. We were catching up on the changes happening in our lives and marveling in the fact that we've all stumbled into an adulthood complete with careers, families, and mortgages. I don't feel very grown up, in fact most of the time I just feel like I'm pretending. It's like I'm waiting for someone to pull down the curtain, take away my checkbook and send me on my way via Care Bears bicycle.
Last night, I ended up having a conversation with an old friend of mine from college. He and I have kept up through the years and we've always walked a fine line between being just friends and being more-than-friends. Something has always held me back from jumping in head first with him. Part of it has to do with my ugly track record for long-distance relationships. And the other part is, well...something I can't quite finger. On paper, this guy is the gold standard, but personally I just never felt like I could really relax around him. Last week our relationship took a turn and I realized that we had to address the pink elephant in the room.
It's really difficult to make the decision to purposefully extract a possibility from my life. I think sometimes I dream so much that it makes reality seem like the real dream. It dawned on me today that maybe this is the true test of adulthood. Being able to make a decision because it's going to benefit the other party in the long run. Being selfish is so easy. I don't know one woman who wouldn't love to have an endless supply of romance potentials filed under the Just In Case category. Life is scary. For some people, being alone is the scariest thought imaginable. But maybe being a grown-up is deciding that loneliness or lovelessness isn't going to be the end. Some of my self-nurturing moments occurred when I felt lonely or unloved. I think that hanging to something because it's available is the truest form of self-denial. And for me when I love and care about myself I don't feel lonely or unloved.
Speaking of hanging on to something because it's available...I realized today that it's been over a month since my last episode. And it feels like Christmas to know that I didn't even count the days to get here. So I'm not dwelling - just taking it one moment at a time.
Love has made us blind
Tied us a bad break that binds
It's not what you think
I just feel I'm losing time
Last night, I ended up having a conversation with an old friend of mine from college. He and I have kept up through the years and we've always walked a fine line between being just friends and being more-than-friends. Something has always held me back from jumping in head first with him. Part of it has to do with my ugly track record for long-distance relationships. And the other part is, well...something I can't quite finger. On paper, this guy is the gold standard, but personally I just never felt like I could really relax around him. Last week our relationship took a turn and I realized that we had to address the pink elephant in the room.
It's really difficult to make the decision to purposefully extract a possibility from my life. I think sometimes I dream so much that it makes reality seem like the real dream. It dawned on me today that maybe this is the true test of adulthood. Being able to make a decision because it's going to benefit the other party in the long run. Being selfish is so easy. I don't know one woman who wouldn't love to have an endless supply of romance potentials filed under the Just In Case category. Life is scary. For some people, being alone is the scariest thought imaginable. But maybe being a grown-up is deciding that loneliness or lovelessness isn't going to be the end. Some of my self-nurturing moments occurred when I felt lonely or unloved. I think that hanging to something because it's available is the truest form of self-denial. And for me when I love and care about myself I don't feel lonely or unloved.
Speaking of hanging on to something because it's available...I realized today that it's been over a month since my last episode. And it feels like Christmas to know that I didn't even count the days to get here. So I'm not dwelling - just taking it one moment at a time.
Love has made us blind
Tied us a bad break that binds
It's not what you think
I just feel I'm losing time
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
...But Could You Bottle it Up?
I'm exhausted right now but apparently sleep is not a priority for my tired little brain tonight. A couple nights ago, I underwent a sleep study to figure out why my sleep patterns and schedule are so inconsistent...to say the least.
So, I arrived at the sleep clinic around 8PM, and was promptly escorted to hotel-ish looking room. I was hooked up to approximately 57847389 wires and then had to figure out a way to go to sleep with enough electricity to power the eastern seaboard attached to my cranium. I finally found a comfy place and relaxed enough to fall asleep. I was told by the tech at the clinic that I would have to log at least two hours of continuous sleep (meaning that if I woke up, the time would start over) in order to have any type of treatment administered. Nonetheless, no treatment was administered during the seven hours I spent in bed. Which kind of freaked me out and calmed me down at the same time.
I'm a generally tired girl. I drink coffee and try to exercise and stay peppy overall, but I'm pretty much exhausted at any given time. It makes me feel slightly better to know that it's because I'm not getting any type of decent sleep. It also makes me feel like I'm a geriatric because I don't think I should have these types of issues at such a young age. Which, of course, leads to cyclical guilt, self-loathing, and general disdain for my very existence. I'm just hoping I can have this resolved relatively quickly. Like right now.
That said, I do feel okay about myself right now. I've been doing a lot of writing and reflecting, and I've been keeping a notebook with my food journal, exercise log, along with an overview of my feelings while I'm doing each of those activities. Keeping a food journal has been about 489 times more beneficial than I thought it would be. First, it keeps me in check, because when I know I have to write down what I've eaten I tend to eat less. Also, it helps me recognize and prevent those moments when I eat because of some type of emotion.
One of my friends has been kind of keeping a food journal with me, and as part of this exercise, we decided that we would save all of the receipts from our food purchases for a two-week period. Let me tell you something - we both spent a ton of money on food. It's difficult being a single girl and saving money on food purchases. I know that sounds kind of backwards and oxymoronic, but it's true. Cooking takes a lot of time, and it's hard to justify spending that kind of time to feed just one person. Plus, most recipes and boxed meals serve four or more people. This requires a lot of tupperware purchases, eating leftovers, or wasting food. And when we're talking about career girls, like me and my friend, cooking is below the lowest possible priority when we come home after a long day at work. That said, the food journal helped me realize that I can come up with a plan to accomodate my lifestyle and not suck a bunch of my free time up to plan, prepare, and package food.
So, I just have a couple more details to put in place before I start full-fledge with the plan I talked about last month. I feel really prepared for this. I've been journaling for three weeks, I've got a shopping list of the things I need to buy to get ready for the exercise plan I've worked out. I even have a mantra and a motivational poster. Cheesy, I know, but at this point I think any little bit of encouragement is helpful. Here I go.
I'm not satisfied with this lifetime
I'm following you to the other side
There's nothing that can change my mind
You're all I need
So, I arrived at the sleep clinic around 8PM, and was promptly escorted to hotel-ish looking room. I was hooked up to approximately 57847389 wires and then had to figure out a way to go to sleep with enough electricity to power the eastern seaboard attached to my cranium. I finally found a comfy place and relaxed enough to fall asleep. I was told by the tech at the clinic that I would have to log at least two hours of continuous sleep (meaning that if I woke up, the time would start over) in order to have any type of treatment administered. Nonetheless, no treatment was administered during the seven hours I spent in bed. Which kind of freaked me out and calmed me down at the same time.
I'm a generally tired girl. I drink coffee and try to exercise and stay peppy overall, but I'm pretty much exhausted at any given time. It makes me feel slightly better to know that it's because I'm not getting any type of decent sleep. It also makes me feel like I'm a geriatric because I don't think I should have these types of issues at such a young age. Which, of course, leads to cyclical guilt, self-loathing, and general disdain for my very existence. I'm just hoping I can have this resolved relatively quickly. Like right now.
That said, I do feel okay about myself right now. I've been doing a lot of writing and reflecting, and I've been keeping a notebook with my food journal, exercise log, along with an overview of my feelings while I'm doing each of those activities. Keeping a food journal has been about 489 times more beneficial than I thought it would be. First, it keeps me in check, because when I know I have to write down what I've eaten I tend to eat less. Also, it helps me recognize and prevent those moments when I eat because of some type of emotion.
One of my friends has been kind of keeping a food journal with me, and as part of this exercise, we decided that we would save all of the receipts from our food purchases for a two-week period. Let me tell you something - we both spent a ton of money on food. It's difficult being a single girl and saving money on food purchases. I know that sounds kind of backwards and oxymoronic, but it's true. Cooking takes a lot of time, and it's hard to justify spending that kind of time to feed just one person. Plus, most recipes and boxed meals serve four or more people. This requires a lot of tupperware purchases, eating leftovers, or wasting food. And when we're talking about career girls, like me and my friend, cooking is below the lowest possible priority when we come home after a long day at work. That said, the food journal helped me realize that I can come up with a plan to accomodate my lifestyle and not suck a bunch of my free time up to plan, prepare, and package food.
So, I just have a couple more details to put in place before I start full-fledge with the plan I talked about last month. I feel really prepared for this. I've been journaling for three weeks, I've got a shopping list of the things I need to buy to get ready for the exercise plan I've worked out. I even have a mantra and a motivational poster. Cheesy, I know, but at this point I think any little bit of encouragement is helpful. Here I go.
I'm not satisfied with this lifetime
I'm following you to the other side
There's nothing that can change my mind
You're all I need
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