Running Out of Steam.


It was bound to happen eventually, and it really took longer than I expected. I didn’t meet my weight loss goal, even though admittedly it wasn’t by a whole lot. Instead of the goal target weight loss of 2.5 pounds, I lost two, bringing the grand total to 284. It’s not a complaint, mind you. In three weeks time I have lost 11 pounds and I certainly can’t complain about that. I’m also 3.5 pounds ahead of schedule, so again – no cause for complaint.

It simply means my body has become used to my 1200-1300 calorie intake per day so I have to shake things up a bit if I want to keep up the momentum. This means exercise, even though I’m not exactly sure how much of it, if any, I can do as yet.

I’ve spent the last week pretty much prone in bed in pain. I’ve even dipped into my remaining stash of pain pills I’ve reserved for just such an occasion. I miser that stuff out like you wouldn’t believe. I won’t even reach for anything until the pain reaches a threshold of 7 or better because I know I can limp through a level 4, 5, or 6 without any medication.

It ain’t fun, but it’s tolerable. Much more so than those higher numbers that, if I wimp out and blow through my prescription early, I won’t have anything left to truly help deal with the “real” unbearable pain. Until we can do something about medical insurance, I can’t afford to go to the ER just because I’m out of medication.

(Ah the joys of living in America without health insurance. The GOP in Congress can kiss my ass. If they don’t want socialized medicine I’d be MORE than happy to take their own free health care off their hands. Fuckos.)

Despite this health setback I’ve managed to work through it to accomplish some major career goals in two – that’s right TWO published e-books:

Dirty Little Secrets

Love Plus One

That I’ve done this despite the pain is a major accomplishment, as I’ve been almost doggedly determined to Make It Happen. It’s been a lot of hard work because even though I have completed manuscripts, I’ve had to go through the process of editing, proofing and developing them to be ready to publish.

I’m horribly anal about it. My reputation is on the line when I put something out there for sale. Just like my articles through Demand, I want my finished product to be one that is above reproach as much as it is in my power to make it so. I want to be proud of my content.

And nothing could make me prouder than to say I’m now a published author who, by hopefully the end of this month, can even hold a physical copy of my book Dirty Little Secrets in my own tiny lil paws.

(The proof is being shipped to me as we speak – and when I get it know that I will cry.)

But thanks to the pain pills everything else has suffered. My sleeping schedule is way off AGAIN (which could also contribute to the lower number on the scale – it generally always does.) I’m back on vampire hours AGAIN, sleeping a good five hours at a stretch, if and when I do sleep…. which could be at any point of the day.

(I wish that I didn’t have so much trouble with the sleep issue. I think it’s probably reason number one that I can’t really seem to get a handle on everything else. But I know better than to rely on sleeping medication. Ambien = the devil.)

If it sounds as though I’m complaining, I’m really not. All of this is more an acknowledgment than anything else. You can’t change what you don’t acknowledge. These are my challenges, and by knowing what they are I can amend my behavior accordingly.

That’s the general theory anyway.

This is also how I keep myself from feeling too disappointed that I couldn’t pull off another significant loss this week. A loss is a loss and a step further toward my goal, but truthfully I mentally fight the idea that I haven’t *really* accomplished anything until I lose all the extra weight I’ve gained since last year. In other words, until that scale dips below 280 I have to fend off all that Chatterbox stuff that beats me up for last year’s backslide.

Of course when I dip below 280, the damn thing will just find something else to bitch about. It’s never happy, and seeks to ensure I’m not either.

(The fucko.)

Re-wiring that sucker is the hardest thing to do. It’s harder than changing my diet, it’s harder than getting my pain-weary butt out of bed and trying to exercise. It’s singularly the most difficult – and likewise, the most critical – part of this reinvention of self I’m undergoing. As much as I’d like to blame the world, the past and those around me for the damn thing, it’s my responsibility alone to re-record it with positive, constructive messages.

Only I can. And therefore I must.

So… acknowledge that I’m not there yet, make a plan to get there and then just do it.

S’all I can do.

I will say that this week has been the hardest to fend off the sweet tooth. I don’t feel it’s depression causing me to really jones for chocolate, it might just simply be hormones. Could be the pain factor (pain hurts, eat chocolate, feel better.) But OMG if there was a chocolate cake in front of me I’d be in serious trouble.

This is another landmine that requires a bit of stategery, in that I don’t want to completely deprive myself (remember, I’m not making food good or bad,) I just have to be conscious of why I want it and why I’d eat it. I’m not sure just wanting it is reason enough to indulge.

Of course, using that logic is there really any reason that’s legitimate? I like chocolate. I want chocolate. Therefore, as long as I can make it fit in my plan, is there a good enough reason to NOT eat it?

(Aside from the fact that sugar reacts in my body like a drug… and I could fall off the wagon if I’m not extremely careful?)

It doesn’t help things AT ALL that we’re around the Valentine’s Day push. For Steven that usually means a steak dinner. For me it usually means ooey gooey chocolately goodness in any form necessary – but most ideally in the form of chocolate covered strawberries available at my local candy shop.

Chocolate covered strawberries that are so divine that my knees literally buckled the first time that I had one. We’re talking eyes-roll-back-in-the-head choco-gasmic. Fortunately they’re kinda pricey ($2.50 a berry) so I rarely ever indulge except for maybe once or twice a year. (Usually around Valentine’s Day.)

As you can see, I’m clearly in trouble.

I’m still crushing it, both career and health-wise (at least with the food,) but I’ve gotta find some new ways to rev up my momentum.

So this week’s goals:

Get on a better sleep schedule and sleep a normal 7-8 hour stretch per night.
Incorporate at least 10 minutes of some form of activity at least three days this week.
Meet my work goals, not just my career goals.

But I still want a nap.

And chocolate cake.

My food diary courtesy of Sparkpeople.com.

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