Finding The Track and Getting Back

It's time for me to wake up and become a major player in my life again.  I've been disengaged the last couple of months, but I'm ready to stop thinking about the things I could do to feel happier, healthier, and more present and start doing them.  I had a wake-up call regarding my health recently.  I'm fine, I think, still probably need a trip to the doctor, but a wake up call was needed, and I'm working proactively to live as well as I can.

I installed an app on my phone called, "Lift," to help me track my goals.  I've only started with a few, aiming to get a daily yoga practice happening five days a week, fifteen minutes of tackling problem areas in my house each day, and clean eating five days a week.  Oh!  And I added a goal to actually check in with my calendar and to do list each morning.

I did my yoga this morning, and I'll admit that the main reason I did it was so I could check it off in the app -- it would be a shame to fail on the first day --

but I did it.

Ready for Change

Last night while I was lying awake in bed I was doing the math.  In the last two months, six people that I have known have died.  Two people that I know have had brain surgery, one of those is still in the hospital recovering, and she lost her son in a logging accident this week (one of the six and a former playmate of my own kids'). The other one who had brain surgery is the son of a friend of mine.  They will be meeting with an oncologist in a few days.  Another friend's husband is in the hospital recovering from the stroke he had the day after his quadruple bypass.  He's relearning how to walk and talk and eat and breathe. 

Of the six who died, three were due to heart ailments, one from breast cancer, and two from tragic accidents.  Three of them were my age, one was my son's age, and two were my dad's age.

This seems quite remarkable to me.  Has there been this much catastrophe in my circle of friends and acquaintances before, and I just haven't noticed?  I don't think so.  I think this is really odd, and it has me a bit shell-shocked.  I'm not wallowing, really I'm not, but I am experiencing some post traumatic stress.  I'm hyper-sensitive in my body.  Every twinge or pain catches my full attention and has me wondering if something serious is beginning.  I'm watching my husband and my kids more closely, and when I'm not being overly cautious and sensitive I'm numbing myself and trying to just not think by playing stupid games on the computer and sleeping as much as I can.

My mind has turned to spiritual things, to end of life things, to big weighty things, and I've been battling a lot of negative thinking.  I'm hoping and sensing that change is in the air.  The weather has improved, we have our pool set up and the deck cleaned off.  We'll be attending a couple of weddings in the next two months, and I'm looking forward to a big group camping trip with friends.  I don't know what purpose this season of painful change has served for all of us, but I sense it has served a purpose.  However, I'm ready for some lightness and joy, and I'm not going to take a moment of it for granted.

Sad

Yesterday I found out that the dad of one of my best friends in high school died of a heart attack while he was riding his bicycle.  Today I found out that an acquaintance of mine from high school died after an 8 year battle with breast cancer, and while I didn't know her well, we were friends on Facebook and I had been following her story.  My husband and I are attending two memorials over the next two weeks for the two friends who died last month. 

These things weigh on me.  I know people die every day, and we all lose loved ones and friends.  It's part of life, but when these things occur so close together, one on the heals of another that I haven't yet fully recovered from, the sadness of it builds up in my system on a cellular level and interferes with my ability to function.

I'm not trying to draw any conclusions, learn any lessons, or strive to improve myself through this.  No, for once, I'm just going to acknowledge and honor this part of myself.  I'm affected by this.  I know I'm not suffering in the same way as those who lost a partner, a dad, or a brother, and I'm not looking for sympathy or support.  I just want to say I'm sad.

Reset

I'm still struggling a little bit with the carb cravings since I've allowed myself to give in and eat some of the things I had been avoiding.  I'm also afraid to get on the scale and see what I've gained, so I'm avoiding that.  I am, however, eating very low carb today.  One thing I've managed to continue doing is eat under 25 grams of total carbohydrates every Monday and Tuesday, no matter how badly I might deviate from my plan for the rest of the week.

For Mothers' Day my husband and kids made me mimosas for brunch and prepared Chicken Pad Thai, as per my request, for dinner.  It was delicious.  They also gave me a new iPhone, and this whole post was just an excuse for me to play with the camera on it.  So, here are pictures of my dinner last night, and my low carb breakfast this morning.

Weighing In

My last weigh-in  was way back in March.  Well, the end of March.  Since then I have lost 3.2 pounds.  Yes, it took me the whole month of April to lose that, but you know what?  I'm counting it as a victory that I didn't gain back all the weight I had lost, considering the amount of emotional eating in which I indulged.

I ate pizza, donuts, cheesecake, potato chips, and nachos.  I drank wine and margaritas many nights.  I exercised and practiced yoga zero minutes (That's a slight exaggeration, but you know what I'm saying).  In between those little binges, though, I continued to eat low carb foods.  Finding out that I don't have to become completely derailed by occasional binges is encouraging.

I'm down to 231.8 pounds, and I'm hoping now that things have settled down somewhat I can get back to losing a pound or two a week again.  Maybe next week I'll see the 220's again.  I never thought I'd be happy to say that!  Sigh.  Well, I am happy to say it.

Living

I'm grateful for:

• breathing.
• dancing. 
• singing. 
• hugging the people I love.
• being able to tell a friend I love him and say goodbye face to face.

I'm Alive!

The month of April was emotionally intense and stressful.  Two friends died. Our dog needed two surgeries. My son needed dental work, and between the surgery and dental bills my husband and I were struggling a bit to figure out how to pay for it all without sinking into credit card debt.

The friend I mentioned the last time I wrote died a week and two days after I wrote.  I did get a chance to see him again before he passed away. He had a huge sendoff celebration starting with a motorcycle ride through town with a bunch of other bikers.  His daughter arranged for someone with a sidecar to ride with him, as it was his dying wish to ride one more time.

After the ride he gathered with friends and family at one of his favorite karaoke spots for one last night of singing and for a chance to say goodbye to those he loves.  My husband and I were there, sitting with his family.  It was,..emotional.  He sang Live Like You Were Dying, and I came undone.   After he died that song played over and over in my head.  It was there all night while I was trying to sleep, and in the morning it was still there, as insistent as it had been the previous day.  It occurred to me that perhaps this was a personal message from Jeff to me; to live like I was dying.

I spent the month of April trying to numb myself, as I do when I feel overwhelmed with stress or emotion, and the message I am taking away from Jeff's death is to plug-in, feel my emotions, and face the situations that cause me to shrink away with courage.  The message for me is to live.