I’m pissed. It is probably hormonal but I cannot know for sure since a hysterectomy, technically a partial since all they took was my uterus, eliminates the obvious crimson flow. Frankly I do not care why it is as much as how I am going to work myself back out of it.
On Sundays Chris Powell asks people to “Celebrate It” and share our accomplishments for the week and it is something I do regularly to just say, “Hey, I’m doing it.” Today it caught me off guard and went all sorts of sideways. I am stoked about my progress but in a nano second seeing people losing 50 and even 100 pounds in the same time I’ve lost 16.8 can get ugly. Usually, I can feel it coming so I take responsibility for my own emotional health and avoid posting. Today, within minutes of posting several things combined to make it the worst thing I could do to myself.
Yeah my 3.5 inches and .6 pound this week is awesome. And yes, I am at my lowest weight in three years and blah, blah, blah and yackity, yackity, yack.
Damnit I want more!!!!!!
A lady responded to my post, “Tanya, you must be so proud of yourself.”
I wanted to all caps respond….”NOPE LADY I AM MAD AS HELL,” but I didn’t.
I am flippin’ angry at my body. It is totally cruel to have my spirit and THIS body.
I’m pissed I traded my reward day yesterday morning because let me tell you I could totally down an entire pan of black bean (gluten free) brownies–and I’m not normally an emotional eater. They were my planned reward for today but yesterday’s movie plan sold them up the river. I want them NOW!!!!
I am pissed my hubs went to take a nap because he is “bored.”
Oh I think I could actually scream, “Welcome to my fucking life” about that one.
But I still have to acknowledge and deal with the feelings.
When I felt like this in the past I would go run, hit the weights, or dance until I couldn’t move and I would feel better so I am pissed I can’t do that either.
Fibromyalgia is such an asshole like that.
Hell, I am even pissed at myself for promising I would be transparent on this journey. Because right now, it doesn’t feel so awesome-sauce.
Today, I would actually prefer NOT to write this out giving you a glimpse at my near-worst-and-mostly-mental-anguish-about-feeling-my-body-is-so-broken-and-not-knowing-how-to-fix-it.
Instead I’m sitting here pounding the keys hard enough I am sure my fingers will hurt later, wiping my tears on my sweatshirt, and sipping the last of my lukewarm coffee.
Today is bad day. They happen.
I’m also pissed about having to work myself back out of one.
I’m tired and it is just going to make me tireder.
I want to break free.
I want to be on the outside who I feel like on the inside instead of refereeing the conflict.
Jennifer Pastiloff inspired this raw view of how I am really feeling today.
Instead of throwing things, I’m tossing you my words because I know you have these days too. Instead of turning into an awful snarling beast to my husband, dogs, or even the fireplace I am sitting here taking deep breaths.
I also want you to know it is okay.
I want you to know you can have this moment while THRIVING. In fact, I will even go so far as to insist you need to feel this once in a while. Honest to goodness, when the tears started to fall my first thought was, “Oh shit…another growth moment,” and I rolled my eyes.
I’m pissed I have to grow.
And okay I will even say I am pissed I’m not perfect, without flaw, and dance a little to close to raving lunatic from time to time.
This chronic life is hard!!!!
Now, what does any of this have to do with weight loss…only every thing.
Right now, I am vulnerable. I am not so far gone that I do not recognize it.
I could swing to the self-restriction as punishment end that was so common to my past.
Thankfully, I am very aware eating 700 calories a day and exercising five hours a day is no way to live and would even make moving forward on a less pissed day even harder. It is also being thankful fibro hurts enough to keep me from drifting back there because today it would be nothing for me to not care.
I am so out-of-sorts if I were able I probably would not care football is on in favor of spending the day in the gym trying to work it all out.
Like I said, even though I am not normally an emotional eater when the option of sweating it out is off the table the temptation is strong to bury my face in a pan of brownies–even healthy ones.
The irony is today I NEED to find the perfect day–that day that is a balance of letting myself go a little nuts and knowing how to use my breathe to reign myself in, that day that is a balance of being a lump and knowing when to move, of knowing when to be gentle and when to be tough–and knowing if I can’t find perfection it does not mean I am failing or worse do not deserve to succeed…it just means I am.
(It also means forgiving myself for deleting the really compelling video and giving you a stupid one of me sipping my coffee instead. At this point, thank goodness for football. I’ll get to scream and rant some but with a purpose and if my teams lose it won’t matter because I’m already in a bad mood. Oh look, it’s turning up already.)
There’s no nice way to say it but if I am going to succeed I have to pull my head out, quit comparing my journey to anyone else’s, make the good choices 95-percent of the time, keep my promises to myself–no matter how hard they feel–and know I am worth the struggle so the only way I fail is if I quit.
I ain’t no quitter…I am a THRIVER…so now I am going to go grab a bag of carrots and watch football.