Less Sex, More Meat

During my research into Adrenal Fatigue, I came across the website of Dr. L Wilson, and what I believe must be the most ridiculous argument against a vegetarian or vegan diet.

I can't advocate for or against these diets because I'm still searching for my own answers, but I think most meat eaters and their vegetarian counterparts would agree that this doctor's lack of research is not the biggest flaw in his articles.

According to Dr. Wilson, (sic) some women develop a strange craving for male semen [...] This may sound odd, but it is quite common, especially among semi-vegetarian and vegetarian women.  They want frequent sex without condoms because they feel better when they absorb more male sexual fluid.

So basically, these vegetarian women (for some reason it doesn't extend to men) are so meat deficient that they try to get their fill with cum. 

But wait, it gets better.


The problem is these women literally wear out their husbands and boyfriends, wanting sex daily or every other day in most cases.  It is not about enjoying the orgasms and some women don’t even have orgasms and don’t care.  It is the fluid they want.  This can be very hard on marriages and other man-woman relationships.

If the man in their life cannot satisfy their new craving, some are tempted to go outside the marriage or relationship for sex.  This, of course, is extremely disruptive to their primary relationship, especially if the partner finds out, it spreads disease fast, and it puts the woman in physical danger although she may not realize it.

Ladies, if you don't eat meat, you will fuck-up your relationships by becoming sperm-hungry adulteress.   I guess we can surmise from this that it's okay for men to be vegetarians then?

One solution is simply more sex.  However, the craving easily becomes an addiction if one chooses this route.  Then it is even harder to control  A better solution is less sex, more love and more red meat.  This will help preserve the marriage or relationship, since for almost all men, sex once a week is plenty, and once a month is fine, too.  Sex with ejaculation is quite depleting for men.

So if you have too much sex, you're at risk of becoming addicted to semen.  You're way better off with less sex and more meat!

On a side note, I'd like to ask the men out there if what this doctor says is true: do almost all men feel that once a week and even once a month is plenty as far as sex goes?

What kind of science do you have to back up this claim, Dr. Wilson?

(sic) I am not sure why eating red meat is so helpful, but it is.  

 

 The only thing that works besides more sex seem to be that these women must eat red meat such as lamb, wild game or perhaps some beef several times weekly.  Only then does the craving seem to subside.  Sadly, many do not like red meat, but this is needed.  Taking a powerful digestive aid such as GB-3 from Endomet labs may help to digest meat.  

Don't fuck, eat chuck.  (sorry, I couldn't resist).

Anyway, if it's that important to eat all that meat, why do you need to take digestive aids to do so?

In a more thorough article entitled Sexual Fluid Craving, Dr. Wilson goes on to describe the condition more thoroughly:

Sexual fluid craving is a condition in which a person has feelings of depression, fatigue and even despair that are relieved when their body absorbs just a little sexual fluid, usually from a man.  It can be absorbed in the vagina, by mouth, or just rubbed on the skin.  This unusual condition is most common in women, and affects millions of young women, as well as some young men.

The vegetarian diet could also be the downfall of society:

The main effect of sexual fluid craving is a highly disruptive one on teen chastity, on marriages, on genital health, and perhaps other aspects of society.  It tends to cause the society to condone pre-marital sex, more divorce, homosexuality, abortion, the use of dangerous drugs such as birth control pills, and perhaps has other effects, as well.

 

[...] it causes millions of very young women, ages 15 to 25, for example (why so young?), to want to have a boyfriend and “play house”.  This is a euphemism for having frequent sex together, usually without a condom so they can get the fluid they want.  To prevent pregnancies without condoms, the young women are often on birth control pills or patches, which are horrible for their health.  Some of the young ladies end up getting abortions, which is also hard on them, but is a common part of the fluid craving ‘lifestyle’.

It's a lifestyle.

Sexual fluid craving may help explain why those who wish to destroy a society often rape the women and even the men, as it is an effective and fast way to cause sexual fluid craving.  This, in turn, disrupts the marriages, corrupts the young, encourages abortions and so on.  It also leads to more lying, cheating on one’s mate, and “stealing” fluid from others, which is a type of vampire-like behavior.  It also makes women much more aggressive, in some cases, and may result in more homosexuality.

 

This craving can bring out a selfish quality that can become exaggerated.  A person craving sexual fluid, for example, may go outside her marriage to obtain male fluid, even though she may not even enjoy the sex.  She simply wants or feels she must have the sexual fluid.  She may also take chances of obtaining sexually-transmitted or venereal diseases, and may infect her partner with them, all to get more fluid.

All to get more fluid...

One of the causes of sexual fluid addiction, according to Dr. Wilson, is a possible entity attachment.


Weakening of the body due to too much sex as a result of sexual fluid craving often opens the body to entity attachment.  Many do not believe in this, but it has been written about extensively.  It has been mentioned [ ] as a possible cause or contributor to sexual fluid craving.  However, it is also a possible consequence of the condition, as well.  When this happens, which is hard to identify for a person, the condition often gets worse because the discarnate entities often encourage the behavior.

It appears that in some cases, after a woman is raped, for example, souls that float around freely and are sometimes called entities or discarnate souls, get inside the body.  They can get into a woman’s body, where they might irritate the vaginal area or do other things that cause or contribute to sexual fluid craving.

This is a difficult subject to discuss rationally, as some people don’t believe in discarnate souls or entities.  However, they are real, and a Google search will reveal many books about them.  In fact, both the Old and New Testaments of the Bible mention them a number of times. 

The bible, ya don't say...

Another cause of sexual fluid addiction is having too many orgasms.  Too much sex or too much masturbation in a woman or man can deplete sexual fluid and can cause or worsen sexual fluid craving. 

Sigh.

Did you know that sexual fluid addiction explains homosexual behaviours?

Sex fluid craving affects some, and perhaps many male and female homosexuals.  In fact, sexual fluid craving can help one understand some homosexual behaviors when one realizes that they may be attempts to absorb more male sexual fluid.  This includes such things as smearing the fluid on one’s body or the body of one’s partner or mate.  One can absorb the fluid through the skin, in the anus, in the mouth, swallowing it, and a very effective way is to rub it in one’s eyes and ears, and on other delicate parts of the body.

As one follows the program, the entire homosexual lifestyle may begin to seem odd or strange.  I do not understand why this is so, but it can be confusing for homosexual men, in particular.  Clients report that this causes feelings of extreme loneliness, depression and anxiety.  However, once a person works through this, by staying with their nutritional balancing program, which might take a few weeks to a few months, then life becomes much easier and much happier.  Often, homosexual desires are gone and the sexual craving is also gone, or much reduced.

What else?

Christian young women who do not want to have sex before marriage are still affected by sexual fluid craving.  However, they seem to be able to put up with the condition without too much trouble in many cases (aw well that's good).  Becoming a Christian seems to help with the feelings of depression and fatigue that give rise to the craving.

[...] the so-called women’s liberation movement unfortunately can make sexual craving a far worse problem that breaks up relationships that otherwise are going well.  It also fosters selfishness among women, guilt in some cases, and causes more sexually transmitted disease, which is already a terrible epidemic.

Vampirism.  One of the worst outcomes is that it turns otherwise fine young and older women into selfish nutritional vampires who basically crave and steal seminal fluid any way they can, at times, with no regard for their own dignity, for love, or for the well-being of their partners or mates. 
Like all addictions, if left unchecked it can ruins people’s lives, ruin families and children, and has repercussions for the entire social fabric of society.  The reason for this is that the family unit and stable man-woman relationships are the basis for a stable, and happy society.  This is the truth, even if modern psychologists disagree. 

It's the fucking truth.

So now that we know about this horrible disease, how can we get help?

Well, following the prescribed nutritional balancing program is one important step, according to the doctor, and it is especially (sic) VERY IMPORTANT IS TO AVOID ALL FRUIT, although I do not know why this is so.

He doesn't know why, but do it anyway.

To wrap up, sexual fluid addiction can be caused by: lack of meat in the diet, discarnate entities, women's liberation; can cause homosexuality, adultery, semen robbery, wreckage of families and societies, promiscuity and all the accompanying issues (STDs, abortions, rape, etc.); and can be cured by having less sex (leave the poor men alone!), eating all the meat, no fruit, and becoming a Christian.

I hope you enjoyed my review of Dr. Wilson's article.  If you aren't yet convinced that meat = good, I give you the following from the vegetarian diet section of the doctor's website:

 IS THERE ANYTHING POSITIVE FOR ANIMALS REGARDING EATING MEAT? (sic)


Yes.  When animals spend time around human beings, even penned up in cages the way chickens and cattle often are, they advance spiritually.  This is the truth.  The same is true of owning pet animals, too.

Bam.

Notes:

all italicized text is citation from the following sources:

http://www.drlwilson.com/articles/SEXUAL%20CRAVING.htm
http://www.drlwilson.com/articles/VEGETABLEDIETS.htm

all emphasis in bold and/or underlined text is my own

I am not advocating any particular diet choice, all dietary info is that of Dr. L. Wilson

I realize I am being a bitch by 'poking fun' at someone's beliefs, but I'm using the excuse that the source was asking for it by publishing his beliefs as facts.

I apologize for the over-use of memes - I've been reading buzzfeed too much.

<3 M

(Really) Glad To Be Alive

I almost died yesterday.

My day started of okay - had a routine cleaning at the dentist for 11am: the hygenist was extremely chatty the whole time, which makes me anxious, although she was very nice and kept going on about how beautiful my teeth were.

Value Village is in the same plaza as my dentist and that's where I headed after my appointment.  After heaping my cart full, I proceeded to the change room where I spent a generous and painful length of time trying on various things.  After a while, I was so sore that I just had to stop.  I was also starting to get hives, which is normal for me as I've been getting them for the past two years whenever the lightest sweat breaks out (it's very frustrating).

I left the change room and started looking through the items in my cart.  After a minute or so, I started having trouble breathing, so I started taking my inhaler, but it wasn't helping and the hives were getting worse.  I went to sit down and text Brian and right after that, I felt my face was swelling up.  At that point I dialed 911 and went outside to the front of the store, leaving my cart inside.  My breathing was worsening by the second and by the time I spoke to the lady on the other end, I could barely speak. 

So I waiting, bent over a railing, trying with all my strength to just breath. 

The ambulance seemed to take forever to arrive - longest time I've ever waited for an ambulance.  Meanwhile, the 911 lady kept asking me questions, and I eventually just stopped answering her because they had nothing to do with my condition and I couldn't talk!

Then a woman coming out of value village starting acting like my nurse, putting her face in mine, asking me dumb questions, leaning her hand on my back, making it even harder to breath.  I felt like crying. I didn't know what to do.

When the ambulance finally did arrive, they slowly sauntered over to me as if I was suffering from a minor boo-boo and proceeded to ask me questions like "what is the matter,?" "what's your name?" "do you know where you are?" etc etc - all of these questions and they still hadn't even touched me.  I stopped trying to answer their stupid questions because I felt like I was literally drowning - I couldn't get ANY air.

So then they put an oxygen mask on me, which was not emitting ANYTHING.  I tried to tell them but they didn't listen.  I took the mask off to look at what might be the issue and the place where the oxygen is supposed to com out was covered by some kind of plug.  I tried keeping the mask off of me because it was making it way way harder to breath, but they kept putting it back on me.

At this point, I was pretty sure I was going to die.  They were taking their time.  And they stopped trying to put my mask back on.  But I didn't want to die, so I started trying to beg with what little air I guess I was getting (no idea how) - "please help me!" "I can't fucking breath," "please, you don't understand!" And the EMS guy was quite annoyed by this point, and just barked back "this is our job - we know what we're doing!" 

THEN they give me an epi-shot.  Get me onto the bed thing (whatever it's called), and proceeded to take their time.  I started clawing and thrashing out of desperation (not at anyone, just the bed thing) the same way one would if they were underwater drowning - it's an instinct - even if you want to die, your body automatically tries to fight it.  I got yelled at again.  I've never begged that hard or desperately in my whole fucking life. 

At that point, I just accepted I was gonna die and tried not to fight it anymore - next to impossible.

So they had me lying down flat on this bed, and for anyone who knows about asthma or breathing problems, you know that's the worst possible position - sitting up and/or turning on your side makes it easier to breath for some reason.  So I tried my best to wiggle to my side, which was next to impossible  cause they had me belted in so tightly.

They finally put me in the back of the ambulance, where I was half in the bed, and half leaning against some kind of glass cabinets.  The didn't touch me again.  Just left me alone, and I actually started to be able to breath a tiny bit, laying on my side, which was so relieving.

We finally got there... did I mention they didn't even turn on their siren until we were just about to arrive?  They rolled me into the hospital, into a room, where there was about seven staff.  The EMS still hadn't touched me - in fact the one guy told them in a very annoyed tone, that I had no idea who I was or where I was, etc.   WTF.  Yes I did.  I just couldn't breath, motherfucker!

They placed me onto the bed in the room, and put an oxygen mask on me that actually had oxygen coming out of it!  From there on I knew I would live because they were all there giving me what I needed as if it was an emergency.  I got two more epi-shots, an IV with Saline, Magnesium Sulfate, Prednisone.  They gave me ventolin, lots of oxygen... hooked me all up with electrodes and basically made it so I could actually breathe again.  And they were nice to me, too.

Brian came - walked at lightening speed from downtown to the Jurevinski hospital - first time I'd ever had someone at my bedside at the hospital.  Felt odd but good.They continued treatment and monitoring for several hours until they were sure I was stable and okay. 

I was exhausted, and in so much pain: one particular nurse, who I'm sure meant well, kept squeezing and poking my arm, not sure why but I think she was hooking lots of stuff up to me.  I kept saying ow because it fucking hurt like a bitch, and finally I said "I have Fibromyalgia" and they were like "oooohhh, okay" - I don't usually complain when stuff like that happens, but it was too much.  At least they understood why it was hurting me so much when I volunteered that information.  It made me realize the importance of letting people know so don't hurt me inadvertently.

This same nurse, when the moved me to another room when I was stable, came in and slapped my leg "affectionately" asking how I was doing.  I screamed because it felt like she just dropped a ton of bricks on my leg.  Sigh. 

Yesterday was not my day.  But I lived.

So a bit of background: as I said, for the past two years or so, I get hives so easily, just from a tiny bit of sweat.  They usually start on my chest and can stay for a quite a while.

Then about a month or two ago, I started going to the YWCA to use the treadmill, which I'd done many times before and never had an issue.  One day I came home and almost immediately broke out in hives all over my body, itchy, sooo itchy.  I was itchy inside and outside - and I felt myself swelling up - my face, eyes, lips, basically my entire face, so much so that you could still see the effects of the swelling two days after.  The scariest thing though, was that my throat was beginning to constrict. 

So I laid down in bed, put the fan on my full blast, and concentrated on relaxing my body, and breathing, paying attention to the swelling so that I'd know if it got serious enough I would call 911.  The only reason I knew that it was a serious thing, is because since I was a little girl I have been allergic to fish, so much so, that even to touch the juice of it sent me into severe antifilactic shock - my eyes would swell completely shut and my throat would swell and cut off my air completely.  I had twenty minutes then I'd be dead.  When I got a bit older, they shortened my time of death to three minutes - scary stuff.

After that exercise incident happened, I went to the doctor and told her about it: she set up an appointment with an allergist and gave me a prescription for an epi-pen.  She also told me to take allergy pills before doing any exercise, just in case.

Well we found out yesterday that ODSP doesn't even cover an epi-pen - something that could save your life quite literally.  I thought that was ridiculous.  Brian brought the perscription in to get filled and they handed him a form - not an epi-pen, and told him I have to go back to my doctor to have the form filled out.  If I had had that epi-pen yesterday, things might have turned out quite differently.  Luckily, the nice doctor who took care of me yesterday was awesome and filled out some form for me to take to the pharmacy to make it so I can get it covered.  A hundred dollars is what it would have cost.

He also prescribed me a new inhaler since I used it all up trying to breath in the value village yesterday, and three days worth of prednisone.

So, I went into antifilactic shock yesterday, so bad that it almost killed me.  And just from my own perspiration, apparently.  What's that about?  My throat closed up, and I couldn't breath.  That was the scariest thing I can think of that I've gone through - I find it really upsetting to think about so I've noticed I've been trying to stuff it inside so I don't have to deal with it.

I know I have been quite judgmental in this post, mostly regarding the EMS people, and it's quite possible they were doing everything they were supposed to do and it just didn't seem like they were because I was so desperate to breath that I couldn't help feeling that way.  I realize this - I just really needed to vent it all.

I've had to call 911 various times in my past due to asthma attacks and every time, the ambulance arrived quickly, acted quickly, gave me oxygen right away, took me to the hospital asap.  So I just don't get what they were doing yesterday.

Also, I'm extremely grateful that I had the brains to call 911 - my pattern has always been to avoid calling them at all costs until I knew I would absolutely die if I didn't.  I'm not sure why I have been this way except maybe that that's what my mother has always done, or because I didn't want to "waste their time" unless absolutely necessary, or I just didn't care about myself enough.  Or maybe all of that is why.

So all I know is that I am somehow alive today.

What scares me now, is that this could happen to me again at any time, any place, any day.  It has been easy with the fish allergy because I just had to avoid fish.  It would seem now I have to avoid sweating too much (until maybe the allergist can figure out what's going on), which is really impossible since it happens just when I make dinner, and not to mention summer is just about here.  I'm scared.

Not sure if anyone will read all of this since it's a pretty long post, but for those who do, thanks.


<3 M

You Are My Candy Girl

I'm severely addicted to the white stuff - and it ain't crack - it's sugar, baby.

For as long as I can remember, I've used food as a comfort.  It was innocent enough - mum always tried to make me feel better with something sweet when I was down... and my mum was a professional baker!  I think most people find this to be true.  Trouble is, I became severely depressed, and the only comfort I knew was food.

It became a problem when my weight went up and despite a lot of effort, I still had the strong compulsion to satisfy my inner pain with food.  And I developed an eating disorder.

I didn't realize I was trying to stuff the hole that was inside me.

After participating in an intensive DBT group, I had new skills to use: I learned the healthier ways to tolerate distress - the ones that don't do any damage the way drugs, alcohol, over-eating, over-shopping, gambling, and promiscuity do.  So I thought I was okay.

But I still had this problem with food and could not figure it out.

I then participated in an eating disorder group, which helped tremendously by emphasizing meals 2-3 hours apart all day long so that you don't get hungry - hunger in a binge eater is like setting yourself up to fail.  It also emphasized that we do not stigmatize any food as being "bad" food.

I improved. But I still had the problem. I still used food for comfort.  And it wasn't salad either, it was always sugary carbohydrates in some form or another: cookies, cakes, ice-cream, chocolate, breads, etc.

Not only could I not figure out why it was so hard for me, but I also became complacent - it was so normal to me to eat these kinds of foods when I was feeling bad (and I felt bad a hell of a lot) that I didn't think about it - The compulsion was too strong and when I ate the food, I went numb, and then I felt better for a bit.

Of course, health is really important to me, and I'm always trying to make sure I eat well.  I gave up animal products, processed foods, gmo foods, etc. in this pursuit.  But no matter what, I eventually reached for the sugary treat when things got bad enough.

I didn't know I was that depressed.  I thought I got depressed sometimes, but looking back, I think I was just trying to cope - and sugar helped me.  It also made things so much worse.

And now I'm sure that the reason I don't reach for a healthier method of tolerance or comfort is because I've never tried anything that has worked as fast and as well as the food.  Sex works well too, but food is easier to come by.

Last year, when I got into the Nutritarian diet (Joel Fhurman), I learned that when you eat any processed foods, it makes it harder to follow the diet - he strongly suggests refraining completely for best results.  And I pretty much did just that.  Then one day, Brian's daughter came to visit and I thought it would be nice to make some banana bread.  So I found a really healthy recipe and made a loaf.  And I ate a piece. And after that, despite being perfectly content and satisfied without that stuff for months, I felt so strongly pulled to have more... and I did.

And after that, my healthy diet went downhill.

Trying to get myself back on track felt impossible - it seemed that no matter how much I wanted to be healthy, the compulsion to eat the sugary carbs was even stronger.

As I finished off my third? (I don't even remember how many) honey bun, feeling disgustingly sick and full but still needing to finish it, I realized that this was an addiction.

And I don't mean that I'm addicted to food - I'm sure that may be possible, but we sorta need it to live.  I mean addicted to sugar.

I know an addictive behaviour - I've had it with cigarettes and still struggle.  Why I never realized I had the same relationship with sugar as I did with cigarettes, I don't know, but my guess is that it was such a part of my life - right from childhood, that I'd no reason to suspect.  Everyone eats. Everyone needs to eat.  Therefore I just had an eating problem, not an addiction.

The reason I suspected it was sugar and not something else?  I needed sweet things, the sweeter the better - those were what I went for, those are the foods I couldn't stop eating, those were the foods I craved obsessively.

So when Brian came home, I had a talk with home and told him my discovery.  He agreed and said he'd help me in any way he can.

Then, after doing some reading on the topic, I decided to cut out the sugar completely and for good.  This meant any sugar, even honey and maple syrup.  And I had to closely monitor my starchy food intake as that is the type of food I have the problem with.  Starch converts to sugar and ends up having the same effect.

I learned a lot about sugar, and why it is so addictive.  It reacts in the brain the way drugs do.  It's process directly through the liver, like any other toxin.

I learned that Queen Elizabeth was so addicted to sugar that her teeth turned black.

I learned so much that I can't even begin to explain it here and so I'll share some important links/information in future posts on the subject.

The day after I had my realization, I obstained from sugar of any sort.  I didn't even eat bread for the first week... I made Brian hide his bread from me.  I didn't drink coffee because I usually liked it with copious amounts of sugar.

Let me tell you, that first week was horrible!  In all the times I've tried to quit smoking, I have never gone though withdrawals anywhere close to what I went through with the sugar.  If I wasn't addicted to sugar, why would I go through such a bad withdrawal?

My skin wouldn't stop crawling; I was sweating; I couldn't stop clenching my jaw; I was nauseous; I was miserable, moody, depressed, and tired - completely void of energy (even more so than usual and that's saying a lot); and oh my god was I hungry!  All the time.  That deep hunger pain you get when you're just starving - well I had that almost constantly.  I was still eating, but it didn't matter. I later learned this was the body trying to regulate itself since it's been so accustomed to regular doses of sugar my entire life.

During that first week, I felt like I didn't know what to do with myself - like something big was missing inside me and that I would not know how to live without the sugar - not because of the cravings, but because I felt like I was walking around with a giant gaping hole right in the center of me and I just couldn't comprehend feeling that way for, I believed, the rest of my life.

I'd been filling that hole with sugar.  I didn't know any other way.  And now the hole was no longer being filled, and I had to deal with that, I had to deal with how that felt.

I want to touch on that more, but in another post.

I don't remember all my withdrawal symptoms, but I remember what happened after just a few days of no-sugar: food started to taste sweeter.  Just natural food, like vegetables, so much sweeter and more delicious. Everything tasted better in a way that quitting smoking could not even compare to.

Don came over with coffee and so I decided to try it without sugar anyway... the coffee tasted almost as sweet as it did when I was drinking it with a crap-load of sugar!  I thought this was amazing.

I also plan to make a post about the effects of going off of sugar, so look for that one if you're curious.

In the meantime, here's a list of behaviours that someone with an addiction portrays (taken from various sources), all of which are true of myself when it comes to sugar:

• Inability to limit use of a substance or activity
• A craving or compulsion to use the substance or activity.
• Recurrent use escalates to achieve the desired effect, indicating tolerance.
• Attempts to stop usage produces symptoms of withdrawal
• Becoming preoccupied with the addiction, spending a lot of time on planning, engaging in, and recovering from the addictive behavior 
• Secretiveness
• Lying to hide the addiction
• A pattern of avoiding and binging
• The person takes the substance and cannot stop - in many cases, at least one serious attempt was made to give up, but unsuccessfully.
• Addiction continues despite health problem awareness - the individual continues taking the substance regularly, even though they have developed illnesses linked to it.
• An addicted person commonly feels they need their drug to deal with their problems.
• Obsession - an addicted person may spend more and more time and energy focusing on ways of getting hold of their substance, and in some cases how to use it.
• in many cases the addict may take their substance alone, and even in secret.
• A significant number of people who are addicted to a substance are in denial. They are not aware (or refuse to acknowledge) that they have a problem.
• Excess consumption
• Dropping hobbies and activities - as the addiction progresses the individual may stop doing things he/she used to enjoy a lot.
• Having stashes - the addicted individual may have small stocks of their substance hidden away in different parts of the house or car; often in unlikely places.
• Taking an initial large dose. For example, the individual may gulp drinks down in order to get drunk and then feel good.
• Relationship problems
• Feel guilty or ashamed.
• Have friends or family members who are worried about your addiction
• Need to partake in the substance in order to relax or feel better.
• Regularly consume more than you intended to.

It's been over three weeks since I've had any sugar.  I don't regret it.  In fact, I feel so much better.  But I'm going to have to be diligent about it for the rest of my life because it is so easy to stray, as I've learned.

<3 M

 

Too Afraid

And I'm not sure how to change that.

I know how to change my social anxiety and I'm sure that will help, but this seems to be something else as well.  I hadn't really thought about it before now, not sure why, maybe I wasn't ready for the truth?

If I get excited about something, I will talk myself out of going for it.  There are dozens of reasons I give myself to rationalize not doing something.  This is what I've been living like.  And now look at my life - I'm not living it.  I mean I'm not experiencing and pursuing things and that makes me feel stagnant, useless, and pointless.

But enough about what it has done to me.

I don't want to focus on the problem - the problem has had enough time to thrive.  I want a solution.

Last night on Facebook, I saw the Hamilton Conservatory For The Arts was giving classes.  I thought about taking the beginners photography class because I've lately discovered taking photos is kind of enjoyable - don't know why I never felt that way before, but anyway...  I thought it would be a good thing for me to do to expand my horizons, learn some things, meet some peoples, etc.  The place is really close to where I live and the money isn't a problem.  Aside from the fact that I don't think I have the right kind of camera, there was nothing stopping me from going for it - except of course, myself.

I didn't know what happened in that moment between enthusiasm and deciding against it, but I believe it kinda went something like this:

Me: ooh exciting!
Myself: scary.
Me: It's close by!
Myself: Still far enough.
Me: I can learn a lot and have fun!
Myself: You're not a photographer, you have more important things to attend to before you go taking classes on subjects that won't even help your livelihood.
Me: This would be really good for my social anxiety exposure therapy.
Myself: That's too much to handle right now.
Me: I never do anything.
Myself: you can't handle it.
Me: okay, I guess you're right.

*Sigh*

I've been "disabled" for basically my entire 20's.  My issues changed me and the way I live my life tremendously.  But unfortunately, I allowed it to define and devour me.  Being enveloped in health problems for long periods is a great way to neglect every other thing in life.  I wasn't able to do so many things I wanted to do or used to be able to do so I guess somewhere along the way I stopped trying and reinforced the belief that I can't handle things, even though I consciously know/or at least think I can handle many things, I block myself from living the life I want to live.

Sure, I have some challenges that make it hard to do everything I'd like, but that doesn't mean I can't at least do some.  I'm afraid of social situations but I can fight through that.  I am way too easily overwhelmed... so I don't have to do everything all at once... I am in pain a lot of the time... so take it easy?  So why doesn't "myself" understand that?

And I know I have a lot of fear about being really far out of my comfort zone, and imagining that discomfort can be enough to make me do nothing.

How can I change this pattern? (not a rhetorical question).


<3 M

Climbing Out Of My Skin

All my life I've been interested in many things, some of which have become passions of mine. This has made it seem impossible to figure out what it is I'm supposed to be doing with my life as far as purpose and an actual career.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to go to "Universary" and become a teacher.  When I got older and discovered I could write as a career and not just as a hobby, that's exactly what I was gonna do.

There have been a lot of hiccups.  In my late teens I became severely depressed and it completely stunted me.  I went inward and left life behind.  It immobilized me mentally and emotionally, and consequently socially and psychologically.

When I started to really pick up the pieces in my early twenties, I had to leave a promising job due to unexplainable physical and mental problems.  I was diagnosed by doctors and deemed unable to work.

When one spends several years in stagnation, trying skill-lessly to get better, apart from 'normal' life and 'normal' schedules, it becomes increasingly harder to get your head above water, and keep it there.  Life slowly but surely becomes purposeless, unnecessarily hard, and farther and farther out of reach.

It feels like I've been fighting forever and for the better part of those years, not getting very far.  I've learned a few lifetimes worth of lessons and gained a lot of skills and wisdom.  I just kept chipping away at the big boulder and after a long time, began to see it take some form.  For the longest time it just seemed like it wasn't ever going to budge.

But for the past few years, I've been able to see the difference of then and now - how far I've come.

When I was younger I was extremely ambitious and I had goals and dreams, plans for the future.  After years of living the kind of life I was living, I slowly stopped dreaming.  I didn't even notice it for a while but one day I realized I had no idea what I wanted my life to look like anymore, just that I didn't want it to look like it did.

I still had my many interests and passions, but no direction and no real idea of how to go about getting it.  It made me so sad to think I had no goals other than the same few goals I'd had for all these years: basic goals for my health since my health problems had weighed me down so much.  You could go through my journals throughout the years and see the same exact themes, year in and year out, struggling with myself against the same obstacles and never seeming to get anywhere.  It was really sad.

The good news is that I am mentally out of that place - I am now able to conceive of and institute plans, goals, and purpose in my life and for a while now I've been on a journey of self-discovery to figure out what that means for me.

Most recently in my journey, I came across an apparent stumbling block - the same damn block that has been there my whole adult life when it came down to deciding on a purpose/career: I don't know what I'm meant to do because I'm passionate about many things!

If my only true passion were writing, that would be easy.  But that isn't the case.  And I struggle with trying to figure out what path to follow.  What if I choose the wrong thing and waste too much time before I figure that out?  And I know I wouldn't be satisfied with any one thing (yes, I'm difficult).  I've been all over the place as far as my pursuits in life go and though I need a direction, I don't wish to ignore my passions as purposes in exchange for just one.

Obviously I've thought of choosing one and doing the other things as side projects.  But that hasn't seemed to fit either: the reason I'm so passionate about the things I'm passionate about is because they are all vehicles to the same end, and that end is my purpose.

I've always believed anything is possible and so I haven't given up on figuring this out.  I need to figure this out.  And then last night I learned a few new words:

Multipotentialism

A term defined in 1972 by R.H. Frederickson for people who, “when provided with appropriate environments, can select and develop a number of competencies to a high level.”

(from puttylike.com)

A multipotentialite is a person who has many different interests and creative pursuits in life.

Multipotentialites have no “one true calling” the way specialists do. Being a multipotentialite is our destiny. We have many paths and we pursue all of them, either sequentially or simultaneously (or both).

Multipotentialites thrive on learning, exploring, and mastering new skills. We are excellent at bringing disparate ideas together in creative ways. This makes us incredible innovators and problem solvers.

When it comes to new interests that emerge, our insatiable curiosity leads us to absorb everything we can get our hands on. As a result, we pick up new skills fast and tend to be a wealth of information.

Polymath/Renaissance Person.

A polymath (Greek: πολυμαθής, polymathēs, "having learned much") is a person whose expertise spans a significant number of different subject areas. In less formal terms, a polymath (or polymathic person) may simply be someone who is very knowledgeable. Most ancient scientists were polymaths by today's standards.


So I'm not alone.  *phew*  So now what?

Well now I feel less stressed out about it, for one thing.  This is not a bad thing!  I've never been comfortable in any box and I don't see how I could ever be happy trying.  And why bother if that's not what I'm meant to do?

So what I need to do is figure out how to take my passions and turn them into a career - into something fulfilling, something that aides people in some way, and something that allows me to be financially independent.  This is now the journey I'm on.  I now feel I have permission not to be pigeonholed into one specific expertise.  I just need to figure out what it will look like.

I had an awesome brainstorming session with Brian today - we listed the main things I'm passionate about doing.  One thing is for certain, there is a very strong theme that runs throughout all of those things and that is healing... in all aspects.  Health and well-being is what I want both for myself and for others.  This seems to be the epitome of what I need to offer the world in whatever ways I can.

Brian and I came up with a pretty good idea that I am definitely going to develop though I can't be positive yet if that is the exact direction I'm going.  It is very promising though.  One sure way I can tell it is right is that it immediately brought up a lot of fears as well as a feeling of a huge weight lifting off my shoulders.  We shall see.

But there are some things I have to do before I can get where I want to be - getting over my social anxiety is the most important one and the balls are already rolling on that.  That's a huge one.  Huge fears and huge discomfort.  That will be an interesting journey.  But I'm eager to get on with it so I can start doing more with my life.

My next step, aside from the above and doing more research on my possibilities, is formulating plans for my various goals - something I've learned is essential to do if you want to accomplish ANYTHING lol.

I have a lot of work ahead of me - I couldn't be more excited or terrified!


<3 M

Pride & Prejudice

This writing was inspired by something a friend wrote...

I'm a 30 year old disabled girl.

When you look at me, you might see a very overweight 30 year old girl but you will not see anything to indicate disability.

I'm one of the lucky ones with the invisible disabilities: I don't look sick, ya see.

I don't look sick, but I do look fat and out of shape.

And when you don't look sick, people come up with their own explanations of why you can't do a lot of physical activity.

And when you don't look sick, but you're over weight, people come up with even more fun explanations of why you can't do a lot of physical activity.

To many, fat = lazy. It's a judgement. And it's one I am paranoid about because I'm a prime target of such thinking.

I believed that about myself for some time too.

When I started to get sick, I was a slim girl. My disabilities and my weight both went up together for various reasons.

I was only moderately active before I got sick. Now I struggle to do the simplest things. Some days it's almost as if I'm perfectly healthy and other days I can barely get dressed. I never know which I will get.
 Most of the time, it's somewhere in between.

But the judgement that I am just fat and therefore lazy is sad and untrue.

If I were slim right now, i would still be disabled. I would still have days where I could barely move. The only difference would be less weight on my joints but as I've found out, that only helps to a point, it does not cure anything and it has no bearing on my Fibromyalgia.

It took me a long time to learn some important things and you know what? It isn't about weight, it's about lifestyle.

A skinny person who eats horribly and never exercises, is not healthier than a fat person who eats horribly and never exercises.

A skinny person who eats horribly and never exercises is not healthier than a fat person who eats well and regularly exercises.

It's about lifestyle and biology. My mum has Fibromyalgia and Osteoarthritis (and Borderline Personality disorder for that matter), and I was lucky enough to inherit these things by the time I hit age 20.

The reason this topic is heavier on my mind right now is because, after waiting a really long time because my ego was too proud to give in, I got a walker.

Without anything to aide me, I can walk extremely short distances and not without being in a lot of pain.
Because my lifestyle has been like this for the good part of ten years, the lack of physical activity has made me out of shape, which is a contributing factor in the pain I feel when walking.

With the aide of a walker, I will be able to actually go out and walk somewhere. I will not be so trapped. It will change my life. And it will get me walking, which will help me build up some strength.

My hope is that after a while of using it, I will be able to walk longer distances WITHOUT it, thus getting me into better shape.

I want badly to be stronger. I hate so much feeling trapped in this limited body. I hate having to plan so meticulously how I'm going to get somewhere just in case I'm caught stranded. I hate feeling left out of certain activities because my body won't cooperate.

But I was really afraid of getting a walker. I was afraid it would mean I was somehow giving up. But I know it is actually the opposite.

I was, and still am, afraid of the judgements: I am a 30 year old, overweight girl using a walker. People will look at me and think "that girl is so fat she needs a walker to help her move." But they have no idea. That's why judgements are so dangerous - you just never know.

Anyway, I'm gonna try to use the darn thing as much as I can. Hopefully the part of my brain that just doesn't give a fuck what others think will kick in more lol.

P.S. Judging is bad, mmmmk?

<3 M

Thank You For Not Smoking

Right now I'm having a cigarette (that's right) and waiting for my bread dough to rise.

Cigarettes are the devil.

I quit over six months ago, very "successfully", but where I think I went wrong was quitting with Brian, and then expecting him to be just as "successful" at it as I was.

All was well for a long time, I didn't cheat at all, and then as soon as Brian started cheating, thoughts of having a smoke possessed my mind.  My addict jumped at the chance to rationalize smoking: "I just wanna see if I can have just one" and "Why should he get to smoke and not me?" and that kind of nonsense. I got so mad at him for smoking - I felt tortured by it and felt that I couldn't be a successful non-smoker if he was going to be smoking.

While I do feel Brian's smoking makes it much harder for me to prevail, I also realize that I just wasn't prepared for it to happen - I was totally dedicated to being a non-smoker and just assumed that's the way it was gonna be... for both of us.  But if I hadn't expected him to do what I wanted him to, I would have been in a better position to recognize that I needed to super-enforce my skills.

But I slowly let myself slip.  I've been smoking on and off, here and there, quitting and restarting, and all of the usual ever since my mum went into the hospital.  That's all I needed as an excuse, and who would deny me that during such a hard time?  Clever fucking addict.

Things were definitely different this time, when I quit.  I felt so much more in control of whether or not I would smoke than I ever have before and I really thought this was gonna be the one that stuck.  And what makes it worse, too, is that I've started really embracing a healthier lifestyle, really giving a shit about what I put in my body, and I know that cigarettes are way way up there on the list of 'oh-my-god-no's.'

The only thing I can do is make another plan, this time including the fact that my boyfriend may be a smoker, while I am not.  I (not so secretly) really wish he would come with me on the journey and really succeed so that we can both be healthy together.  But of that I have no control.



<3 M

My Mother

Is in the hospital.  She's been there since Tuesday afternoon, almost a week now, and it is still undetermined when she will be coming home.

Without going into details, it was very bad and I almost lost her (again).  But she is incredibly resilient (eerily so - if only you knew how many times she almost or "should have" died) and is doing relatively good.

They're keeping her until a few things clear up (kidney infection, pneumonia, etc.) and to run more tests until they know everything that's going on.  We have no idea how long it will be.

I've been at the hospital every day with her and will continue to do so until she comes home.

I'm just glad she is going to be okay.


<3 M

Happy Birthday

 Today's entry is brought to you by the number thirty.

Yesterday was my thirtieth birthday.  I was woken up by Brian and Drew singing 'happy birthday,' bringing me the breakfast in bed they made me.  I've never had anyone give me breakfast in bed before - I felt very special and very loved.

He even made the eggs inside slices of bell pepper from something we found on Pinterest (thanks, Sunny, for getting us (me) addicted to that site :-p ).

Of course it takes me some time to get out of dreamland and become coherent so they were disappointed when I requested we do presents after I was done drinking my tea... you'd think I committed a crime or something lol.

They got me a pretty smelling candle with chocolates and candies, and an adjustable stand thingy to make it easier for me to read in bed since even holding up a book can be too hard sometimes.

I luff them so much.

That night, Jodie and Mike came over and we all went to a party where I got birthday beats.  They got me presents too!  A massage bar that made Jodie squirmy cause it was for "erotic" purposes; a bath bomb intended to unleash my desires, which also made her squirmy; a cool book mark, and special incense.  I don't know if I ever mentioned it, but Jodie gets squirmy when it comes to anything of the erotic nature - it's quite funny and cute.

I got tons of birthday wishes too, on my facebook, which made me very happy cause I loves my attention.

I've always loved my own birthday and have always reminded people of its coming well in advance.  I count down, I talk about it, and when it comes, I get giddy like a child and eat up all the attention.   But this year felt a little different: for one thing, my health has been crappy lately so I wasn't announcing my birthday from the rooftops like usual.  I was planning on planning something special for this year's birthday because I think thirty is a significant milestone of life - especially for me for many reasons, but again, the health took priority.  And I didn't seem to have the same excitement that I usually have on my birthday.  In fact most of the day/night didn't feel like my birthday, I kept reminding myself it was.

I don't know if this is because I wasn't well leading up to it so didn't do my usual stuff or make plans or because I'm *gulp* just getting old, or both, or neither.  I hope it's not the 'old' thing, we shall see I guess.

Anyway, I've been living in survival mode for a long, long time.  My thirties are going to be when I 'start' my life, and I'm excited about that.  I have goals for myself, and goals with Brian, and I'm looking forward to all of it :-)

I spent another long period not writing in my blog, which I hate, but it happens.  I wish I could be as regular as Sunny is with blogging.  I don't really know why I can't - I have a bit of a consistency problem perhaps.

Brian and Drew should be back anytime now from the children's museum so I'm gonna go get dressed.

Lots and lots of love,

M

I Feel Like Poo

I wish the doctors would do tons of tests on me so I could just know, once and for all, what the fuck is all wrong with me.

I have an appointment on the 23rd with an allergy specialist, so I guess he's gonna do a bunch of random tests to see what I might be allergic to.  I don't have high hopes for that though, not sure why.  This is why I wanna do an elimination diet in the new year so I can actually pinpoint what foods are having what effect on me.  I don't see any other way of figuring it out.

Then there's the whole iron thing.  I'm supposed to be taking three pills a day, each one at different times, and that's where I'm getting fucked up - it took me years to remember to take my meds everyday, and that was just once a day... and right now my schedule is completely fucked up so I'm confused as to when I should be taking them.  I only just got up an hour ago, I'm not even fully awake yet, I haven't taken any pills yet.  So I don't know when I'm supposed to be taking iron pill 2 and then iron pill 3.  I really hate when things are like this.

I don't have any energy :-(


<3 M 

When I Wake Up, In My Make Up

Today is pretty much a write-off.  Not gonna get any of the things done that I wanted to.  But that's okay.  At least that's what I'm telling myself.  The world is not going to esplode or anything because I wasn't able to make the daily quota.  Gonna go to bed early, hopefully wake up with some energy and make up for today's idleness.

Brian came to visit me this morning.  It's good to have a reason to get out of bed.  We kind of messed up the bed a lot though :-p  He brought me coffee and carrot cake and love.  He tries to give me love even though I'm really hard to love when I am down in the dumps as I am.  He is awesome.

Then I went to the doctor's.  And on my way there it occurred to me that three months ago I took it upon myself to lower my dosage of Celexa from 30mg to 20mg.

I've been trying to decipher exactly why my depression right now is as strong as it is because it feels much worse than the usual onset of S.A.D. and my life situation is not that bad.  So I don't know why it took me so long to put two and two together.  My brain is annoying funny sometimes.

So I'm kinda hoping this is the reason for the depression and that once I go back to taking my old dosage I will start to improve.  Crossing my fingers on that one. Gonna start tomorrow.

P.S. I need a new webcam, the one I have is pretty much useless and I want to have Skype dates with Brian.  Please to point me in the direction of a decent, inexpensive cam?


<3 M

I Am S.A.D. N' Stuff

I don't want to sleep all day.  I have delayed sleep phase disorder and S.A.D. - a combination that sorta leaves me fighting a losing battle regarding actually have a choice in the matter as to when I do or do not sleep.

I have a sun lamp, which is supposed to (and does) help with both the sleep disorder and the S.A.D. because they both have much to do with the circadian rhythm.  Well I believe the lamp is helping me with my mood but not with my sleep cycle.  But that's my fault.  If you don't use the lamp around the time you want your body to wake up (say, mid morning) than you won't.  Because I've been sleeping all day and using the lamp at like two or three in the afternoon, I'm not getting any change.

So I need to somehow get my ass out of bed earlier.  It's so hard to do that when all you wanna do is sleep cause you're so tired and your natural instinct is to hibernate during the dark half of the year (I am the bear and the owl ya know) and you have no solid reason to actually get up anyway because you have no real obligations, plans, or responsibilities.

I'd argue that I have responsibility to myself but if that case held any weight I'd be a much healthier person right now.

I'm sure it will all work out, it always does in some way.

I think I really need to start making plans and following them - I know I would feel much less scattered, unorganized, and directionless.  I stopped caring years ago about having goals.  When I was younger, I had so many goals and dreams.  After a while of being depressed and emotionally fucked up, I stopped having goals other than "get better" and since I never got better (for a long time that is), my goals didn't change.

Since I've been improving tremendously and the longing to have real goals again has come back, I found myself lost, not knowing what the hell I even wanted. As if I had forgotten how to even have goals.  It saddened me to realize how far away I had gotten from myself to not even know what I wanted.

Luckily(? hehe), I have a boyfriend who needed help figuring out how to make and implement/achieve goals.  Exasperated (for some reason), I set out to teach him, frustrated because of how easy it was to do so (and why didn't he know how?).  Isn't the ego a funny thing?  Here I am, struggling with the exact same issue (way to be aware of yourself, right?) and acting like some kind of expert on the subject.
 
But I did it.  I taught him how to do it.  And it was effective.  And as I taught, I realized this was exactly what I needed to be doing for myself.  I can be a very wise person but I really suck at the actual doing and sticking to part of things.

So I did sit down and make some goals for myself, in all areas of life.  And I even created a neat little binder with dividers to categorize the goals and keep track of them etc.  I put a lot of work into making this little binder, my GOALS & PLANS binder, to make it all organized and pretty and stuff. 

And that's where I stopped.

I made this binder at least two months ago.  I have not even looked at it since.  I have not looked at any of the goals I made.  I'm not exactly sure why I do this sort of thing.  I know part of it is fear of failure.  Another part is how scattered I have felt for so long that I never know what I should be doing at any given moment since there is so much I need and want to do and no actual schedule or priority and anything.  Did I mention I am good at excuses too?  ;-)  Basically, I overwhelm easily and I am good at overwhelming myself on an almost daily basis.

So what should I do?  Open that damn binder! 


<3 M

Random

I'm at Brian's place right now: he's gone to take D to her mum's for the weekend and then doing all kinds of other stuff.  I'm staying home and making him a speshul dinner :-)

Our three-month-aversary was on Wednesday... it feels like a hell of a lot longer than that, but in the good way.  I'm still 'getting used to' this whole being in a relationship thing - it's a completely new experience for me.  I've been in, what you could call, relationships before, but none of them were actual relationships.  Needless to say, I'm a very happy girl, life is grand.

Well, mostly.  I seem to be having a hell of a time with the pain thing.  There's my usual pain, and then there's the pain I've been having for the past few months or so.  It seems to be easing up somewhat, but let's just say this masochist is in need of a safeword O_O

Most other areas of my life are improving: I'm seeing a lot of the fruit of my past labours and can see it wasn't all for naught.

Like I said, I'm still getting used to being in a relationship.  He lives all the way across the city and is a full time dad, so working out my scheduling and transportation has been an issue.  I need to figure out how to fit everything in, fit in seeing my friends, my family, that sort of thing.  I wish I drove sometimes.

 I am, what they would call, a Borderline in recovery.  What that means is, I still have all the same emotional disregulations and hyper-sensitivities, and whatnot, but I have the skills with which to cope.  This is quite the miracle, for anyone with BPD knows the hell your life becomes with this disorder.  If I keep up on the skills, I should be okay.

I am also, it would seem, a rapidly recovering body-hater.  I have been struggling with body image issues for years, even when I believed logically that there is no reason to feel down about my body, the filters of society and everything I've always been told to believe/think have won out.  The influence is too strong.  Most everything we're told and shown regarding our body size, shape, etc. is bullshit, but how are we to know the difference if that's all (or the majority) of what we've experienced through media and society?

I did a few things, sort of theraputic-type exercises in hopes of changing my stubborn beliefs about my body.  Some of these seemed to have an effect.  Then I attended an eating disorders group where I was taught the science behind weight gain/loss, etc.  It was a life-changing experience.  Why was this information not out there in our society?  It was so eye-opening, I'd never heard these things before.  I felt lied to, and regretful that I had not known these things before it was too late.

Among all the things I learned, one of them was acceptance.  After knowing what I now knew, I had no choice but to accept things as they were, accept myself the way I was, right now.

It sounds depressing for someone who hates their body and has spend most of her life trying to, or stressing out about, losing weight.  Waiting for life until I was the right weight.  Putting things off until I was 'done my diet.'   Not wearing what I really wanted to wear because 'when I lose weight, it will be too big and I don't want to waste money.'  And when the struggle to achieve the impossible inevitably failed, again and again (no wonder we end up hating ourselves) the cycle just continues, getting worse and worse.

 Well, it was depressing.  Incredibly.  But then some things started happening.  I would go shopping and look at all the clothing I wanted to wear, knowing I could buy it now and not have to wait for a later date that would never come.  This was fun, relieving, and very empowering.  If I accepted myself at the size I was at right now, I could stop waiting to live.  Finally.  Sounds dramatic, I know, but it kinda is.

After a while, I noticed I was not getting down about my body nearly as much as before.  This was happening less and less.  I noticed that I had stopped obsessing.  This was a huge deal, like a ton of weight lifted off my shoulders. 

Many other things happened.  I began to notice an increase in confidence.  So did others.  And it's so true what they say - once you start to believe you are beautiful, so will others.

I still have some major issues, but like I said, it's a work in progress like everything else. I'm just very proud to be able to add that on to my list of ginormous life accomplishments.  Most of the things I've been working on endlessly for the past decade and seemingly getting nowhere with have been shifting in big ways in the past year or two.

One of my biggest issues in therapy, oddly enough, was problem solving my inability to follow any sort of routine or schedule.  To do anything productive on a consistent basis.  Much of this had to do with the fact that I've been out of school and work for so long and haven't had to be very responsible and the fact that I have very black/white - all/nothing thinking. 

It seemed like I would never be able to do it, I would never be able to control my life!  I am very easily overwhelmed.  But in the past, I'd say, six months or so, I have been slowly, by trial and error, getting somewhere with this problem.  It is very slow progress, but it is a very big thing to tackle and I am doing it!

Of course there are other areas in which I'm making headway... I just don't give up.  So like I said, life is grand. 

I still have plenty of problems to deal with, but they are a hell of a lot easier to face when many of the other ones are under control.

I better go start dinner n' stuff now... this chair is killing my back :-/



Love M

The Summer Is Tricksy

I don't like the way my body/mind plays tricks on me during the light half of the year: what I mean is, every spring I start to 'come back to life' - I wake up from depression and low energy, I start to feel good and I start to really live the way I try so hard to live throughout the entire year but never seem to be able to during the dark half of the year.  This is, of course, wonderful.  The bad part about it this particular year is that never before have I worked so hard on improving myself than I have this past year and things are starting to really come together for me, slowly but surely.  My worry is whether or not it is only because it's spring and not because my hard work is paying off.  If it's only because it's spring, then I'm bound to fall once again when November comes around and that would really really suck because I'm so sick of the struggle.  But if it's not just a coincidence, well then that's a huge deal for me.

After severe anxiety, worry, and fear I finally FINALLY started going to the YWCA to exercise.  I almost passed out from panic just going there to sign up.  But something strange happened when I actually went to the gym to work out - as I was working my poor neglected muscles/body, I came to the realization that I was actually enjoying myself... I've told myself my whole life that I hate exercise, that exercise and I never got along, that I was born that way.  This is true in a way: I was, since birth, a very sedentary person, preferring to live in my head rather than do much moving.  But now I realize why I thought I hated exercise so much that it was making it next to impossible to start and keep to any kind of regiment: I have osteoarthritis and fibromylagia - both of those diseases are about pain, pain, and pain.  I'm in constant pain.  So whenever I've tried to exercise, it hurt like a bitch!  No wonder I didn't want to do it.  Turns out though, that if I stay away from the high impact stuff (cause that damages my joints and makes my disease worse) and make sure I'm not hurting myself in the "bad way," then it's actually enjoyable!  It still hurts, but it hurts in the way that it's supposed to hurt, the way exercise hurts any normal healthy person, that wonderful burn that tells you you're making your body stronger.  I actually like exercise, who knew?

I'm very eager now, I want to do so much, so I'm having to force myself to take my time so I don't overdo it and hurt myself or set myself up for failure.  I wish I had discovered this years ago, but you can't change the past.  So far I'm spending an hour at the gym three days a week.  Next week I'm going to start adding swimming (like aqua therapy, water jogging, etc) to my routine.  Eventually I want to be working out at least five days a week and I'd like to do some of the yoga and pilates classes they offer as well.  What a huge breakthrough for me!

I've been terrified for quite a few years now of starting any kind of routine in my life because in the past I have always failed and after so many times failing, you start to feel defeated and hopeless.  I haven't had structure in my life since I was in high school, and even then it wasn't very structured so I'm having to relearn how to do it in almost every aspect of my life.  I have severe "all or nothing" thinking, so that poses a challenge all on its own - it's like learning to live from scratch in a way.  But I have a kick-ass therapist and she suggested having a plan for failure: a simple concept yet I never thought of it.  I always thought I should just be able to pick up and start again if I failed, but it's not always that simple, and having an actual plan to follow is such a great concept and makes me feel more secure in being able to succeed.

So there's that.

In other news, I love plants.  Every single spring for years and years I attempt a garden on my balcony and every single year I kill my plants.  In the past I always thought it was because I end up neglecting them when I get depressed (which is true too), but this year I've realized, sadly, that I kind of don't really like gardening, and I'm kind of not very good at it lol.  I wouldn't say I have a brown thumb, but I'm having to accept that I should stop trying to have a damn garden and just buy the organic produce from those who know what they're doing.  I have a few plants out there now so we'll so how those do, but after this, I'm gonna go steal Sunny's tomatoes ;o)

What else is going on... my best friend is moving to another city :o(  This is really hard for  me, really really hard.  A  year ago I would be in bed crying all day and night planning my own demise over this, but I've grown a fuck-tonne and I will be okay.  It's going to be hard though, he's more than just a best friend, if that makes any sense.  And I guess after a year and half I should meet the girlfriend...  I'm kind of proud of us though - we managed to stay close friends after all the turmoil and heartache and through such difficult circumstances when it really would have been easier ultimately to go our separate ways, we knew the value of our friendship and chose the path less traveled in order to keep each other in our lives.  Who knew it could be done?  The hard stuff is still not over yet, but I think the majority of it is definitely behind us.  Here's hoping the future rewards us!


Love M

Baby Got Back

K I feel like writing so here we go.

On the subject of FAT...

 I am.  duh.  I was a chubby little girl until I hit puberty, at which point I naturally thinned out.  To tell you the truth, I didn't really notice: as far as I know, I thought I was the same size the whole time (chubby or even fat, even when I was not).  So anyway, I thinned out and was pretty damn hot (looking back, of course you never realize it at the time - don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone?).  I still thought I was fat though, not huge but definitely "big boned," which is why dieting was always in the back of my mind, always always always.  Looking back I can't beleive how sick that was, that I thought I was fat when I was so not: I was damn fine and healthy too.  Nonetheless, I remember putting a picture I'd cut out of a magazine on the fridge of a super skinny model - inspiration to lose weight, I said.

So then what happened?  Well, first of all, at some point along the way ( think I was either thirteen or fifteen but can't remember at the moment) I "discovered" emotional eating.  Well I didn't know that's what it was at the time, but I discovered it nonetheless.  Luckily it wasn't something I did too often and it didn't effect my weight too much, probably because I was still somewhat active and healthy.  It's no coincidence that this discovery of emotional eating came around the same time as I was becoming unknowingly depressed.  I won't go into what was going on and why that added to the depression but just that it was something I was unaware of, I just thought I was weird and super sensitive (I am both those things, but I was also depressed lol).

What's weird about being depressed in my house is that every single person in my family has some mental disorder or another (usually various) but no one said anything to me about possibly being depressed, nothing.  Not sure why, but I've always been a bit bitter about that.  Back to the topic.

Now, when I was somewhere in my mid teens I fell disgustingly deep in love with a good friend of mine.  This caused me a lot of turmoil and inevitably ended in heartbreak for me.  How badly was I hurt?  Let's just say I only just got over it a few years ago, and I am currently twenty-eight.  I got so depressed (still didn't know I had depression btw) that I eventually left my job and school (on the same day) and slowly but surely began shutting the world out, becoming a hermit, pretty much.

And this is where that wonderful thing called emotional eating came in handy.  I embraced that coping mechanism, consciously knowing that I would probably gain weight and not caring (because what's the point in looking and feeling good if you don't see any hope for the future?).  With the mixture of inactivity and emotional eating, I, of course, did start gaining and I still didn't care.  I'm sure I cared on some level but at the time I was too depressed to care.  That's how hopeless I felt.

I eventually got to the point where I started to suspect there might be something wrong going on and made an appointment with the doctor.  This is when I found out that I did indeed have depression.  They diagnosed me with bipolar (because I would go into deep deep depression and then mania) and anxiety and gave me some pills.

By this time I had a full-out eating disorder and was discovering that even though I didn't want to gain weight anymore, it was starting to become out of my control (that's the best way I can put it I think).  And I was still depressed. And I didn't know how to get control of my eating again, I just thought I was weak and pathetic.  I kept gaining weight.

Then, in my early twenties I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and osteoarthritis.  No wonder physical activity was so hard, I thought I was just lazy.  Try and lose weight when you're severely depressed, have an eating disorder, and have physical disabilities.  Right, sounds fun eh? 

So I became double the size I used to be - the size of two of me.  And trying to lose weight the whole time by dieting dieting dieting and trying to exercise.  The dieting wasn't so hard as the exercise, for obvious reasons, but the mental turmoil one goes through when struggling with body image issues is a sickness I wish upon no one - yoyo dieting, all diets that are extremely unhealthy, for years.  None of them worked.  Diets don't work.  I knew that, I knew it had to be a permanent lifestyle change, but by then I was so deep into the cycle of punishing myself for failing by starving myself, then inevitably binging out of starvation and comfort.  I now understand that this becomes a mental disorder that only gets worse.

And so I kept trying and the harder I tried, the more weight I gained.  I know that doesn't make any sense, but if you're in such a sick cycle it just keeps making you sicker and making things more distorted and eating away at your self-worth and that forbidden comfort food becomes no different than a drug addiction.  The only difference is that you have to eat, which makes it harder to avoid.

And that's why I'm fat.  Mind you, I don't think being fat is necessarily bad - we all have some amount of fat on our bodies, it's just when you have too much that it can take a toll on your health.  If I were able to lose weight (let's hope so!) I wouldn't want to be skinny, I'd want to be pleasantly plump, as they say.  That's just me.

There are many judgments about fat people, and I can understand why: it's a simple scientific formula - burn more calories than you consume and lose weight.  Unfortunately, when an eating disorder develops, when there's severe depression going on, when physical activity is limited, this simple formula is moot.  Don't tell a fat person to just stop eating because you never know if they're like me and get anxiety attacks just walking into the kitchen because they don't want to have to eat but know they need to.

Ultimately I'm not trying to make excuses for myself because that does no one any good, I'm just explaining how I got where I am and why I'm here.

Some days I feel absolutely disgusting, nothing but a blob of grossness that no one would ever want to look at.  In fact I've stayed in many times because I thought no one should have to look at me.  Sick, no?  Some days I actually feel kinda hot, like yes I'm fat but I'm still damn sexy bitches ;o)  Both of those are true depending on who's looking.  So what others think doesn't really matter.  There are plenty of men who love fat chicks, it turns their crank, but at the end of the day, it's me whose opinion matters and I'm not comfortable being as fat as I am.  This goes for aesthetics as well (and especially) health.

While it's true that you can be relatively healthy and fat, there are still things going on inside your body that are not good - things have to work harder because of the extra weight and that puts stress on important processes, resulting in adverse health effects.  Thinking about what my body is going through makes me sad, I want to be healthy.

I was at a level weight for a few years, but in the past year I have gained a lot more weight (yes, another severe heart break by a man I love) and this has accelerated my distorted thinking about eating and my body and all of that good stuff.  But some really good stuff has happened in that time as well:  I finally started seeing a therapist (I know, after being depressed most of my life you'd think I'd have gotten one sooner, but that's a whole other story of woe) and she is fucking awesome.  I've been in a DBT group (Dialectic Behavioural Therapy) as well, which has helped me so much.  And in about two weeks, I will be starting in an eating disorder program at the hospital.

If this doesn't help me, I don't know what will.  I recently went to an information seminar for getting gastric bypass surgery, determined that this was my only hope, I fully intended on going for it.  But after the information session, there was no way, I was really disappointed at finding out what it's really like and that the only thing getting that surgery does is help you lose a bunch of weight really quickly (the way you would on a fad diet) and you have to change your lifestyle by eating right and exercising anyway, the same way you would without the surgery.  There is no difference, well, except for all the serious health risks and permanent sacrifices, etc.  I could get the same results going on a shake diet for a few months and then dieting and exercising - I think I've already tried that lol.

Just learning DBT skills in the past six or so months has already helped me immensely with how I deal with food.  I'm hopeful that the next six months, plus my therapy, plus the next year in an eating disorder group will be just what I need to get healthy.  I'm tired of everything being about my weight.  Just the fact that I would never tell anyone the number on the scale tells me how shameful it makes me feel, cause as some of you know, I'm not the most private person, I tell all! lol  I would like to think, after being rejected by a man, that it's because of my horrible personality and not because I'm fat :op  There is some truth to wanting that, trust me.

I've learned a lot through the  years of being in a fat body...

I've learned the importance of not judging someone by their looks.  I've learned that it's still okay (socially acceptable) to say hateful things to or about a fat person, to discriminate against them for how they look.  I've learned that the media is disgusting.  I've learned that people can eat well and exercise and still be fat.  I've learned that they should stop making polyester/nylon clothing for plus size women because it's the most unflattering, worst possible fabric for anyone with curves, lumps, or bumps.  Oh, and I've also recently learned that there are ingredients in most of the food we buy, such as high fructose corn syrup and MSG that actually effect the body in a way that negates the scientific formula of natural weight loss (calories consumed/calories burned) - it is really sad to find this out because there are some people who try so hard to lose weight and they are unknowingly consuming these additives, not knowing it is likely making their struggle pointless.  I've learned a lot more, but I think I'm about done writing for now.

There was no real point in writing this, I just felt like talking about it so thanks for indulging.

P.S. Fat people need love too please :o)


Love M