Tuesday, June 11, 2019

Depression is Sneaky

It's been a month since I wrote here and I suppose that's a good thing and a bad thing. After Laura's funeral, I was thrown for a while but then life caught up with me and I had to just keep going. My youngest had final high school concerts and then honors night and then graduation. I kept waiting for the tears to come but instead, I felt almost numb. Please don't misunderstand. I am insanely proud of him and I know he's going to great things, but I'm finding it hard to feel those emotions right now.

I don't think I realized just how down I'd gotten until today. All of the usual signs were there, but because the depression wasn't this intense feeling, I hadn't recognized them. I'm guessing I can thank my medication for that which is good...I mean, it means it's doing something, right?

June seems to be kicking my ass though. Instead of the excitement over the kid graduating and life changes, I feel stuck. I feel trapped in a never ending loop of what ifs. What if my food stamps get cut back again and I can't afford to eat? What if I never finish this book? What if I do and Nick hates it? What if I can't ever get it together enough to get this house clean? What if no more jobs come in and I can't afford to do anything? What if...What if....What if...

Depression sucks, y'all. I know that I'm a super intelligent person and yet I feel stupid. I feel like a failure, like someone who will never, ever succeed at anything in life. I know that I have a lot of setbacks now, but when I'm depressed, those don't feel like setbacks, they feel like huge walls or quicksand, things that I can't get past.

Right now, I'm part of an incredibly great Kickstarter and I so badly want to have the excitement and the enthusiasm for this project so that I can help encourage people to help us fund it. Instead, I find myself not wanting to even be online because online means people and people means pretending I'm not stuck in the bottom of a well. They say fake it til ya make it, but depression is exhausting on its own and faking enthusiasm and happiness just makes it all the more tiring.

I don't know, y'all. I don't want to be like this. Who would? I want to enjoy writing, enjoy storytelling, enjoy my bullet journal again. I want to tell the world how amazing Awakenings Act 3 is without feeling like crying. Because it truly is an amazing project. Nick is an incredible storyteller and Veronica is an amazing artist. Their work deserves to be seen. I don't want to sleep 12 hours a day. I don't want to be this person right now and just typing this paragraph has made me want to go back to sleep. I hate that.

For now though, this is where I'm at...and I'm glad some of you read because feeling totally alone would just make it worse.


Monday, May 13, 2019

On Death and Dying

On Death and Dying
Image from: http://wisdomquotes.com/
I would love to say that this past week outshone the week before that what with cars breaking down and black licorice taffy, but sadly, that isn't the case. The reality is that it's been such a rollercoaster that a part of me is screaming, "Please just let me off. I can't do this anymore."

I don't tell you that to scare you, but to be real with myself and with anyone who reads this. It's been a really rough week...and as the mechanic told me last Monday, "But, honey, it's only Monday."

Let's backtrack just a little bit. I want to tell you about my friend, Laura. Just over a week ago, I got a call from one of the few people on this planet that I trust with my everything. It sounds a bit odd to say that since before this call, I hadn't heard his voice in probably five years, but it's true. Anyway, it wasn't a happy call...he called to tell me that Laura had died. In that moment, I think I went numb and into some sort of denial. It wasn't possible. She was 53. She was this amazing, incredible woman who was loved by so many. Writing this now, almost two weeks later, the tears are finally there and I can't stop them.

Going to her funeral was only reliant on one thing..if the friend mentioned above would let me stay at his place. Once that was set, I move heaven and earth to get there. Of course, my car broke down on the way and there was a bit of drama trying to get it fixed/get a rental car, but I got there. The funeral, as far as funerals go, was lovely. The room was packed and I couldn't help but look around and wonder if anyone would come to mine if I died. Compared to this woman, I've done nothing with my life. What would they have to talk about in my death?

I came back home just two days ...not even two days really...after getting there. I left with mixed feelings: sadness over Laura, fear that it'd be another six years until I was back "home" again, a desire to prove myself to the world, and a need to see my children. Since then, I've pushed and pushed trying to be even a quarter of the woman she was. I've taken the youngest to rehearsal, attended his senior breakfast, took both boys for one last immunization, had lunch with an author friend who amazes me constantly with his skills and talents, worked on projects for clients...do you all see where this is heading?

At no point have I taken a moment to mourn or grieve or even breathe. Tonight though, I can't stop the tears. I can't stop the sobs that wrack my body. It's good that I'm alone because if I were with someone else, I'd try hard to be strong for them. I'd shove it all down. I wouldn't be able to say what I'm about to put here...

I feel guilty for being alive. The world needs Lauras. They need those amazing hearts matched with strength and determination. The outpouring of love and the number of people in that room showed that. I live in fear that when I die I will die forgotten. There will be nobody to even put together a funeral, let alone people who will travel from all over to share their stories of me or to help comfort those who grieve.

I want this post to have a happy ending. After all, that's what I do, right? I write these posts about my struggles but I always end them with some little ray of hope, some thought that keeps me going. Tonight, I don't have one of those. All I can think is...why me? Why am I still here but she isn't? The world needs Lauras.


Friday, May 3, 2019

Life is Fragile and Absurd

Life is Fragile and Absurd
As usual, I've been meaning to write this post for a week, but things kept happening and I kept trying to process them but none of it ever made it here. This post is one big wrap up, I think, but we'll see where it goes.

Let's start with last week...

On Wednesday, I did the usual thing of taking the kid 90 minutes to his lesson and then jazz orchestra rehearsal. On the drive there, we didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, but on the way back was a different story. The car was vibrating loudly from the back and of course, not being mechanics, we had no idea why, but we agreed it was probably bad. Once I dropped Roger off, it started making a series of new sounds so I decided to take it to our "shady" mechanic the next morning. Thursday dawned bright and early and I headed in once I realized that the power was now out at the house for an undetermined amount of time. Except, I didn't get very far. Three miles from home, the car jerked and started making a very loud ka-thump ka-thump noise. I figured this was probably bad so I pulled over. I got out, saw that I still had four tires and all and got back in the car. I started it again and pulled away going maybe ten miles an hour...the ka-thump was so loud that I didn't go even a block before I pulled right back over. A friend called the shop where the owner said he hadn't had a mechanic since January. January?!? What?!? After a small meltdown, we agreed that I should have the car towed to the town I had to go to for Jazz Fest. Did I mention that it was day 1 of Jazz Fest and my youngest would be performing with 2 of his bands for the last time that day? Yeah... Anyway, we managed to find a shop who said they'd look at it, I got to ride in a super high tow truck for 20 miles, got the car dropped off and headed down to Jazz Fest. Did I mention that the shop was now going to "try to get an estimate done" that day. Oy! On the way down to the venue, I stopped at the General Store, thinking they sell General Store type items. Nope. Wrong. They sell...fru fru crafty stuff. Not cell phone chargers which I now knew I was going to need. Scratch that. They did try to sell me a car charger. I'm sure you can imagine my expression at this offer. No car, folks. They did offer me a taffy from their bowl on the counter and after getting to the venue, I eagerly unwrapped it. After all, something good had to happen, right? Wrong. I bit down...into black licorice flavored taffy! Then I tried to wash away the flavor with strawberry lemonade! Ugh! Yep. No winning there. Fast forward to the end of the day and I get word that my car did make it to get an estimate, but wouldn't be done before noon the next day. No worries, I could book a hotel room, right? Nope. Wrong. There are only two hotels and both were booked. My choices? Sleep on a bench in the park or call the ex-husband to see if I could sleep in my oldest kid's room since he was away to school. After much dramatic sighing (by him), he agreed and I spent the evening hanging out with my youngest.

The rest of the weekend wasn't too bad. I got my car back, got to listen to some great jazz, took some pictures of the youngest and his beautiful girlfriend before prom, and then spent Sunday recovering. There was drama, but other than one small breakdown, I weathered it. I'm kind of proud of myself for that.

This week hasn't been too terrible. I've managed to complete one major project and get a lot crossed off on my to do list. My youngest is off in Anaheim at the national competition for Business Professionals of America and I got to pick my oldest up from school yesterday and I'm spending some time hanging out with him. I miss the time I used to have with my boys, but I'm proud of the young men that they've become.

There was one real tragedy from this week though and it's one that I'm still trying to process. On Tuesday, one of my closest friends asked me if I had time for a call. I don't remember the last time we actually spoke on the phone because he's in Canada so it's an expensive call and our schedules don't often match up. I said absolutely because I miss him tons. Unfortunately, it wasn't a happy call. He called to tell me that a mutual friend had died. Part of me is still in shock. Like he said, she was our age and had been taking care of her health. It's terrifying.

So, it's been very much a mixed week and a near constant roller coaster of emotions. I'm a bit tired, but I'm pushing through. I'll be doing a whirlwind trip to Canada to attend her funeral...god, I don't know if there are enough Kleenex on the planet right now...and then back home to try to survive the last few weeks of my youngest's high school career. Final band concert, senior breakfast, awards night, commencement and then his open house. I'm not ready. I'm not even going to pretend that I am.

But, like always, I will keep trying to push forward the best ways that I know how....

And also, as always, take care of yourselves and each other. There is no greater gift on this planet than love.


Monday, April 22, 2019

#MeToo

#MeToo
For a couple of weeks now, I've been feeling called to write this post, but I kept putting it off because I was afraid. I was afraid not only what people would think, but also of what it may do to my own mental health. After a week away and time spent with "the man", I had a bit of a revelation as I was driving home...one that had me in tears, but tears that were washing away the last ugly remains of a terrible thing. Tears that left me thankful for the man I have in my life now who helps give me the strength to be brave and to be bold, to tell my story, to stop hiding, and to show the world my amazing. What's to come is my story...and it isn't fun and it isn't pretty and if things like physical abuse and rape are going to harm you, please stop reading. Please put your own health first. What's next is raw, but it's me...

I don't think that I've ever really talked about this. I'm 99% sure that I've never written about this. Up until this point, I couldn't handle the reliving of what happened to me, but the time has come and I'm thankful for those who have helped in my healing. Please forgive me if this is a rough start because how do you tell the world that you were raped and it left you damaged for years? I guess just like that.

I was raped and this is my story.

About three months before my 30th birthday, my marriage was officially over. I have given ten years to it and lost myself in the process. In the year or so before it happened, I had discovered internet radio and became a dj and even a station manager. I loved it. I felt as if I'd found a community where nobody knew and I could just be fun and happy, even if it was pretend a lot of the time. Not long after my divorce, I met a man named Larry through internet radio. Yes, that's his real name. There is no one innocent here to protect.

We became close and through him, I started dj'ing at a BDSM radio station. It was tied to a popular club and the people all seemed really great. Like I said before, I'd lost myself in my marriage and during this time, I was lost and when Larry showed an interest in becoming a dom to me (if you need more information about BDSM, please don't hesitate to ask/educate yourself), it sounded perfect. He could help guide me as I made my way through a very confusing time of my life. He was willing to help me make decisions, no matter how big or how small. People seemed to like him and after months of talking to him, I felt safe and like he was someone I could trust.

After a lot of talking, we decided that I would fly to where he was and spend my 30th birthday with him. For some reason, I always knew 30 would be a tough age to turn and with what felt like my failure lying all around me, I was thrilled to be spending that weekend with someone who could distract me and that I could have some fun with.

When all flights out of Chicago got cancelled due to a tornado, I should have taken it as a sign and gone home. I didn't though because he kept encouraging me not to give up and that if I ended up at another airport, he would come and get me. So, I hung in there and ended up landing at another much larger airport and sure enough, he was right there to greet me. By the time we got back to his place, I was ready to fall asleep, but he had other ideas. He wanted to give me birthday spankings. The idea amused me and I was curious about the physical side of BDSM, so I went along with it. Except, he didn't spank me. He took a wooden paddle to my bare ass and hit me hard with it 32 times. Then, 10 more because I'd corrected him on my age.

Then, he proceeded to turn me facing the wall and started touching me. I was okay with this at first. After all, I had known we would probably have sex if I went there. Except, he wasn't touching me to turn me on. He was touching me to turn himself on. Then, with no warning, he anally raped me. I'm not going to go into the details. We all know what anal sex is and we all know what rape is. Combine the two and that's what I experienced. Then, he pulled me close, told me how much he cared about me and went to sleep.

I laid there until exhaustion took over. The next morning, I was confused. He was acting as if nothing bad had happened. I knew I hadn't imagined it. I had been to the bathroom to see the black and blue welts covering my backside and to clean up the blood that would happen every time I went to the bathroom for the next week. Emotionally though, I was lost. Was this normal? Was this how these type of relationships were? He did everything he could to reassure me that nothing bad had happened.

That night, I went into the bedroom first and was reading on the bed wearing my pajamas. He came in and removed them from me, reminding me that he had told me that his rule was no clothing in bed, none at all. He then proceeded to hit me with the paddle again, right where he had the night before. This time though, when he forced me down onto my stomach, I went non-responsive. I completely disassociated from what was happening. I was in the air looking down as this man did what he wanted to my body. When he didn't get the reaction he wanted from me, he pushed me over to the side of the bed, turned away from me and went to sleep. The next morning I actually apologized.

I would love to say that I never saw him again, but it would be a lie. I flew out there again the following month. This time, he not only raped me again, but also starved me the entire weekend. I didn't go back again. Not long after that, I was approached by the manager of the radio station to ask if he'd ever mistreated me because others were coming forward and accusing him of rape, of keeping them hostage until he was done with them, and other things. One girl, he would wait until she took medication that put her to sleep and then rape her while she was out of it. No charges were ever pressed against him by any of us.

Why? I don't know. For me, it took me a long time to come to terms with what he had done to me, how he'd used me, taken advantage of me, and then took away the one thing that I had felt I had control over in my life. For the others? Perhaps there was a fear of having to tell officials about the lifestyle and the belief that they wouldn't be believed.

I don't think I've spoken to this man in about 11 years. Not long after the second event, he got married to one of the women that he'd been screwing around with. From everything I saw posted, she enjoyed being treated how he had treated others. As for me, I had friends who flat out forbid me from having contact with this man. It's taken me twelve years, but that's my story. Writing it all out has left me feeling sick, but I know that this is the final step in closing that door forever.

It's taken me a very long time to feel as if I could freely trust anyone with my body again, but I've found that. I have been blessed to have found partners who have treated me with the love and respect that I deserve. I now have an incredible man who without knowing has helped heal some of the worst of it and has helped me to be braver and bolder than I thought I'd ever be able to be again.

I know there are people that mock the #MeToo movement and who have said some horrible things about the women who have spoken up. That hurts me because I'm one of those women, especially once I post this. Remember...all of us deserve love. All of us deserve respect. We may not always agree, but we're all human and deserve to be treated with decency. Treat each other with kindness and compassion. The stories are real. The people are real and sometimes the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Not this time, but sometimes.



Wednesday, April 3, 2019

Little Victories = Big Anxiety

Little Victories = Big Anxiety
They say that the smallest victories can lead to the biggest results or that success is just a series of small victories. That maybe true, but for me, right now, my series of small successes/victories has led to some seriously high anxiety. 

Let me tell you about my week...

On March 28th, I signed my first ever comic contract. It was for a book that I've already done two issues on, but to be asked to sign a contract to make it official an all of that felt like a really big deal and it made me feel good that the creator really appreciates the work that I do for him.

On April 2nd, I spent all day, literally, creating a resume and cover letter and then sending them off for a job that could be a good thing for me. I haven't had a job outside of the house in twenty years and my hands were shaking as I sent the email. The idea of working outside of the house is scary for me. The outside world can be scary for me, but I did it anyway. I pushed past the anxiety at least to a point where I could send it.

Today, I went to the dentist and made it through an appointment without being given nitrous. Again, to most people, not a huge deal, but I get horrible anxiety for a lot of medical things. At my surgery consult last month, I actually caught myself disassociating while he was speaking to me. Today, I got through the appointment. I was lightheaded when I sat up from the anxiety, but I got through it.

Last week, I came up with this idea for an anthology and people really seemed to like it, including someone who is so good at putting together anthologies and who is a talented creative in his own right. Honestly, I was in shock. I guess I don't put a lot of value on my "silly ideas".  I'm slowly getting better at finding the value in what I do as a proofreader and even as a writer, but I still very much question a lot of me. Anyway, I approached this person about partnering with me on the project and to my surprise (and insane level of excitement), he was willing and seemed eager. Fast forward to today when I signed a contract with him to go ahead and start planning the project. That's when reality slapped me hard in the face. I can't finance a project like this. Heck, I'm currently living without a stove/oven in my house because I can't afford to replace them. We won't talk about how I have no hot water because I haven't been able to dig out of the chaos my mental state has left me in.

Anyway, I had to be up front with him about that. I mean, partnerships are built on honest communication, right? I had to have faith that it would be okay...and it is, really. I have to keep telling myself that over and over again. It's okay. It will get made. So it has to be put off for an indefinite amount of time because he's awesome and amazing and has two years worth of launches to get through, but he will come back to you. He won't forget about this project or you. Just because something is a huge step for you doesn't mean that it is to everyone.

It's not his fault. He's being real with me. He doesn't pull punches and that's not always easy for me, but he's not being mean or hurtful. It just is what it is. It's tough though.

All of this has left me wound tighter than....umm...something creative that gets wound up...It's hard not to take that leftover anxious energy and spiral down into some deep, dark place. Like I can hear that voice in my head telling me that because I'm such a fuck up, I don't have any money and I'm going to be stuck in this place forever...this place where I can't get a foothold to get out, where I'm going to die without anyone knowing who I am, where I will forever be this worthless thing that ruins lives and who never should have been born.  This place that says all of my victories of the past week mean nothing.

I referred to it earlier as the voices of family past and that's what it is. It's my mother's voice. It's the neglect of my father. It's the voice of the man who raped me. It's the voice of every single person who has ever abused or neglected me. Sometimes small victories lead to big anxiety and that's where I am tonight. It's nobody's fault and I have one of the best cheerleaders on the planet telling me that he's proud of me and he just wants me to be proud of me too. I've made big steps for me and it doesn't matter if those were easy steps for anyone else, they're big for me. I really have gotten lucky and have some great people who support me, who don't berate me when I'm feeling like this, but remind me that they think I'm awesome and capable of awesome things.

So...before I leave you all tonight, I want to update a section that I put on this blog a month or so ago...







Current Weight: 306 (-7.5)
Goal Weight: A lot less ...like 150 pounds less.
Days in a row taking meds: 34

Monday, March 18, 2019

Feelin' Good



So, it's been a few weeks and I wanted to make sure that I stopped in and let you guys know how it was all going. It's had its ups and downs that's for sure. I just have to stop singing and dancing to this song so I can actually type it all out.  I love this song so much. The video is a bit weird though, don't you think?

Okay, it's done. Right. So the past few weeks...Well, last post I told you that I had decided to start back on my anti-depressant and that I was a bit nervous because I tend to forget if it's doing me any good once I'm on it for a bit. That's part of the reason that I want to write about it. I want to have a record that I can look back on.

I decided to start with a half dose because the last time I took a full dose (I was on the max allowed dosage) it made me feel loopy. I spent an hour one evening cutting all of my pills in half and rebottling them. That night, I took my first dose. The next day I was headachey and nauseous all day long. It was not fun, but I took another dose the following night because I figured maybe I just had to adjust to it. The following day was a Thursday. I know this because my youngest had a jazz performance at a club. I had the same headache but the queasiness was more on and off, but man, when it was on, I wanted to throw up. Ugh. That night, I didn't take any. The thought of swallowing anything was too much.

Friday I still felt crummy, but better. I decided that I'd try an every other day regimen for a while. Saturday I woke up and felt great. Go figure. So, I took another dose that night. No reason to put it off if I'm feeling okay with it. Sunday I woke up and started the first real period that I've had in over three years. Now I'm wonder if the medicine combined with hormonal crap and just made me feel dreadful. No real way to know, but I've not had that god awful reaction since.

So, since I started, I only missed that one dose and that was on purpose. I'm really starting to notice a change. I've had my down days and I've had some serious stressors, but so far I've been handling them. The past couple of days I've found myself smiling, singing, and god help the poor cats who can see me...dancing. I feel lighter. I feel more like things are going to be okay, and that they're possible.

I had about 4 nights of total insomnia, but I think that I'm slowly moving past that which is good. The past two days I haven't slept until noon or later which is a relief. Regulating sleep is a top priority because my afternoons are too busy to lose my mornings.

In a bit of other news, I'm thrilled to say that #Fridgepocalypse is over now. Our brand new refrigerator was delivered this afternoon. If you don't know what that hashtag means, I'll just say that this is our second fridge purchase in just over a month. I'm going to have to put myself out there more as a proofreader/editor to make the money back as quickly as I can but I don't believe that it's impossible. I just have to get the right eyes on what it is that I do.

As for weight, I don't really have an update there. I don't have a way to weigh myself at home and I haven't figured out a solution for that yet. I don't really want to drive 20 minutes to the doctor's office every couple of weeks, even though I'm pretty sure they'd let me stop in and use the scales. I will say that I think that my pants feel a bit looser, but it's hard for me to tell if that's just wishful thinking or reality. I promise I'll keep updating that bit as often as I can though. I need to know too if the bits I'm trying are working. Only five more months until that appointment. Now that the new fridge is here though, I can get my water bottles filled and in there so that I have a ready supply of drinking water on hand which will be nice.






Current Weight: ???
Goal Weight: 150 lbs
Days in a Row Taking Meds: 18

Wednesday, February 27, 2019

Ch..Ch...Ch...Changes

Ch..Ch...Ch...Changes
Another month has flown by and I can't even tell you where it went. February in Michigan has been brutal with things like polar vortexes, icemageddons, and then a bomb cyclone. There was a lot of drama involving me attempting to get a fridge back into my house and a lot of time just being mom.

Now here we are, the last day before the end of the month and life hasn't slowed down even slightly. As I'm writing this, I'm sitting at a jazz orchestra rehearsal. My youngest son has been a part of this audition only group for two years so for two years, I've lost about 8 hours each day getting him here and back...as well as the rehearsal time. He loves it and I love sitting in, even if it takes away from other things I could be...and maybe should be doing.

So, here we are and I'm trying to sort through the stuff in my head. Thank goodness I have all of you to talk to about things! It really does help me work through them.

Yesterday, I had a doctor's appointment. Nope, let's back up. On Monday, I took myself off to a hotel for an overnight stay. My water heater has decided it doesn't like hot water anymore and with the appointment coming up, I needed a night away and a long, hot shower. Best decision I've made in a while. Thank goodness for tiny tax returns which let me do that. I got to relax and rest up which I badly needed.

Then, yesterday, I went to see a plastic surgeon. If you know me, you know I have huge boobs. You'll also know that I'd rather not, but I'd never have plastic surgery for vanity's sake. They're causing me issues. My collar bone hurts a lot of the time. I never have straight shoulders. I'm always hunched over because of them. Boobs weigh a lot, guys. So, after my doctor asking me about it for over five years, I decided it was time. It took me almost 5 months to get this appointment.

The doctor was super nice, but basically laid it out that if I want to lose weight, I need to do it pre-surgery. If I do the surgery first and then lose the weight, the boobs will sag, and he doesn't think I'd be happy with them. The reality is that they beyond sag now and they're not close to symmetrical. Still, if I'm going to go through all of this, I do want to look down and be happy afterwards.

I left the appointment and sat in my car and cried. I wasn't hurt or upset by anything that he said. He couldn't have been nicer. He told me that if I wanted to go ahead now, he would do the full exam and proceed. He also suggested, that if I wanted, I could come back in six months and we could reevaluate everything. That would give me time to work on losing weight if that's what I wanted to do. If, at that point, I didn't feel I was where I wanted to be yet, we could put it off another three to six months.

I sat and cried because I'm so angry with myself that I've allowed everything to overwhelm me to the point where I've gotten to the weight I am. I'm frustrated because I've dug myself into this deep hole between my health, weight, and house. I'm overwhelmed. I look around and don't know quite how to dig myself out. On top of everything, DHS took my projected income form for this year (which they required me to predict and which I am nowhere near making at this point) and cut my food stamps down to less than $300 a month for three of us. Luckily, Ben is off at school and Roger is busy with school and work and music, so isn't at my house all of the time.

Still, I have no idea how to feed even just me in a super healthy way with that amount of money. I'm sure it's not impossible and I'll just have to be incredibly careful about what I do buy. I'll have to tightly meal plan and stick with it.

I want to do this. I know I can do this. I'm also completely overwhelmed. I don't really know where to start. No, that's not true either! I'm full of arguing with myself tonight. I guess here's the tiny baby plan as much as it is:

1. Start logging calories using My Fitness Pal. Not so much trying to keep within what it's saying but logging so I can see where the problems may be.
2. Take the last bit of my tax return and order some glass water bottles for the fridge. I may not have hot water, but I do have water and a filter for the kitchen tap. This will allow me to not have to buy water and save a bit of money there while at the same time having a healthy drink option in the house.
3. Start talking with my tiny Facebook weight loss group about things. Support is super important.
4. Continue taking my medication. Last night I started back on a half dose of my anti-depressant and a full dose of my blood pressure medication.

Hmm...I guess it really is a tiny baby plan. That's all I've got right now.  I have six months to see how far I can get. I'm stuck without much exercise right now because I can't safely get out of the house and walk, but maybe in another month or two I can add that in. I do have a Fitbit, even if the rubber band causes my skin to react. Perhaps for my birthday (in 6 months), I can ask for a leather band for it to help alleviate that problem. If I can make some changes around the house, maybe I can start walking from one side to the other...I figure it'll only take a few hundred trips to make a mile..heh...

For now though, it's one baby step at a time. If anyone knows of some low impact exercises I can do at home that don't require a lot of space, please let me know! I'm still getting over a sprained ankle and what I suspect is a pinched nerve in my elbow, but I'm willing to try new things.

Take care of all of you!





Current Weight: 313.5
Goal Weight: A lot less ...like 150 pounds less.
Days in a row taking meds: 1

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