Be Kind

Kindness.  I show it to others willingly, even happily.  One of my life's motto's is "In a world where you can be anything, be kind."  It's really not that hard to be polite and show kindness.  There is so much ugliness and hatred in this world that I choose to show kindness to others.  And yet, I do not show kindness to myself.

I'm actually quite mean to myself.  I would never be friends with anyone who spoke to me the way I speak to me.  My counselor told me I need to become friends with myself.  To show myself the kindness that I show to others. This has been my homework this week, so to speak.  If I were to grade myself on this homework assignment I would be give myself about a C-.  It is incredibly difficult to break old habits and to get rid of that negative self talk.

The boyfriend and I went on a walk this weekend, several actually (yay!).  While we were walking up the hill from our place to the main road I got very discouraged.  Now mind you, this hill is not a gentle sloping gradual slight hill.  This is a hill that knocks the wind out of even the fittest of folks. So, we're climbing up this monster to go get lunch.  I'm heaving, wheezing and very nearly out of breath.  I say out loud something akin to "God (pant) damn (pant) I'm outta (pant) shape (pant pant)".  But what I was saying to myself in my head was far worse than what I said out loud.  "How could you allow yourself to get so fat and out of shape?"  "You're such a loser for being so fat." "Everyone is staring at you, the fat person struggling to get up the hill.  They're laughing at you too."

But at this moment a light started blinking in my head. It blinked "Be Kind", "Be Kind", "Be Kind" over and over in bright red letters. So I pulled in a ragged breath, pointed to myself with my little finger and said out loud "Be kind to yourself. Be proud that you are moving your body. You are doing some good by being out and about." Or something like that, I can't remember the exact phrasing but that is the gist of the message that I told to myself.

It seems so frou frou doesn't it?  To simply be kind to yourself.  It doesn't really seem like it would make that much of a difference in ones life.  And yet, on that beautiful spring day, while I was gasping for breath and feeling like garbage, hearing myself be nice to myself made a gigantic positive impact.  Instead of being crippled by an anxiety attack brought on by my own self loathing I was able to enjoy the gorgeous sunny day. We had a delicious lunch and fantastic conversation.

Please know that I have not perfected being kind to myself.  I am not yet friends with myself.  I'd say we're acquaintances who are bonding. I am testing the waters of trust that friendship is built on.  I am allowing myself mistakes, the room to make them and forgiveness.

Practicing kindness towards myself is a new experience. I'm 39 years old and I've never thought to be friends with myself.  It just never occurred to me.  Be Kind.  It's a new motto that I've added to my repertoire.  I hope it's one that stays.

Eating

I'm not anorexic anymore.  I no longer starve myself.  I feed myself.  And often.  Much much too often.  I never really had a true diagnosis of anorexia.  I had/have what they call "Eating Disorder Unidentified". The definitions of anorexia and bulimia are very specific so if your symptoms deviate at all, you can not be diagnosed with either disease.  And I wasn't.  I was diagnosed as having an Eating Disorder Unidentified.  I would starve myself all day and then binge at night.  I never purged.  I just could never make myself do that. So the calories I deprived myself of during the day would be packed in every night when I binged.

I thought when I was released from the outpatient eating disorder program at the hospital that I would never need the help of any one again for an eating disorder.  I thought that disordered eating was in the past and I could charge ahead with life.  It's funny how one can pull the wool over their own eyes.

I still have disordered eating but it has swung in the other direction away from anorexia into over eating, which, for me, has so much more shame attached to it.  I have gained 100 pounds since leaving the treatment program. And yes, I know what they experts say about not weighing yourself, and size isn't a number blah blah blah but let's face it being seriously under weight or over weight isn't healthy.  And that's what I want, to be healthy.

So, years later my war continues.  I'm sick to death of essentially using food to slowly kill me.  At first I wasn't using it enough so I would slowly starve over time. Now I'm over using it and facing a whole host of issues that comes with being obese.  

Obese.  Now there is a word I never would have thought I could use to describe myself.  But I have to face the facts, I'm no longer just overweight, I am obese. I can no longer do simple stretches like I have done all my life because my fat gets in the way.  I can no longer wander aimlessly about town all day because I get winded so easily. I can no longer just walk up a flight of stairs without getting completely winded and end up breathing big huge heaving breaths.  None of that makes me happy and it does in fact illicit an enormous amount of shame.  How the hell did I allow myself to get to this?

I need to extract myself from living this unhealthy lifestyle.  I do not want to live life this way.  Using food to stuff myself so I don't feel the feelings.  

I've started counseling again.  I hope it works.  I hope I truly listen and learn this time around.  

Lack of Passion

As I was driving to work this morning a thought crossed my mind. "I don't really have a passion for anything anymore."  And I don't.

 I mean, I love dogs and seeing them get rescued from a shelter brings tears to my eyes.  I love seeing their happy tails wag back and forth when they are out on a walk.  I adore seeing an elated pup bounding down the beach.  It pains me to know that there are so many who suffer but I'm not volunteering anywhere.  I don't care quite enough about it to actually go out and do something about it.

I love theatre.  In fact, I got my degree in theatre.  I adore the creative process behind putting on a show.  I enjoy figuring out the minutiae of costumes, sets, colors, lights, sound and then seeing it all together on stage.  There is a rush I get from knowing it is opening night and knowing that tonight's performance will never be replicated because it's live theatre.  But I'm not auditioning for anything.  I'm not looking for stage managing opportunities. I don't want to do it badly enough to go out and do something about it.

I adore makeup.  The shades available to play with to create different looks based off moods and emotions intrigue me.  I know I'd be an amazing makeup artist.  I know I could rock some socks off being the go to gal for new eye look tutorials on Youtube.  But I'm not doing anything about it.

And that last sentence seems to sum up my life right now.  I'm just not doing anything about it.  About any of it.  I'm just letting my life pass me by as I sit beside it.  I'm too tired to do anything about it.  I'm exhausted. all. the. time.  There isn't any energy left to have passion for life.  I'm lucky I can get through the day at work unscathed by the monotony and the fluorescent lights.

Work.  Oh, God.  That's an entirely different subject completely.  One that I don't have energy to get into right now.

Don't get me wrong.  I want to have passion in life.  I want to wake up excited with my feet ready to hit the ground running.  I long for that.  The question is how do I get there from here?  How does one find a passion for life when one is too tired to go looking for it?  Where do I start?

The first thought that comes to mind is to quit my job.  It is soul sucking. It is energy depleting.  It is devoid of reward or inward gain.  It pays the bills.  Am I willing to continue to endure this mind numbing job just so I can pay some bills?  However, if I quit this job then I'm back where I was 2 years ago.  Jobless.  Which seems frightening but also liberating.

I need something to move me forward.  I need something to ignite my passion.  I need someone to slap me and tell me to "snap out of it" ala Cher in Moonstruck.  The thing is though is that I know it isn't up to someone else to snap me out of anything.

I'm the only one that can figure out my passion.  I just don't' know how to do that quite yet.

Early Bird

About 9 years ago I was able to get up at 5am every morning and head to the gym. I never liked waking up that early but I always felt amazing after working out. I also didn't have to worry about it for the rest of the day. It was done. No more thinking about it. Until the alarm went off the next morning. I have myself weekends off. I did cardio 5 days a week and lifted weights 2 days a week. 1 day focusing on upper body the other day the lower body. 

I have often thought of going back to this model of working out. I stuck with it for such a long time. Yet, lately when I plan to go to the gym in the morning I always find a excuse not to go. (Big surprise to all of you, I'm sure.). A big reason why I choose not to go is because I now have these two adorable heaters that sleep with me, otherwise known as dachshunds. How can I leave them?  They're so warm?  Also, I hate that I'm already gone from the house 9 hours everyday, go can I leave them alone for that much longer. 

So, I don't go. Instead I lay in bed with them while Denali squeezes as close to me as she can and Porter hugs my neck by laying his face on mine. 

And then I get up, get ready for the day, put on my clothes and wished I'd gone to the gym. 

However, I love that time in the morning with my pups. I don't want to give that up. So, instead of getting up at, what now seems like an ungodly hour, I'm going to be heading to the gym after work. I know I can do it. It just means turning left instead of right when I leave the parking lot after work. 

I may not be the early bird anymore but to be honest, I don't really like worms that much anyway. 

Baby Steps

I need to start working out.  There's just no other way to look at things right now.  Walking up a flight of stairs has me gasping for breath.  I don't like how I look in my clothes and to be honest, not a lot in my closet fits and I'm not going out to buy a bigger size.  So....

This leaves me with the option of continuing to make smart choices towards leading a healthier lifestyle.  Earlier this week I set a goal of drinking 100oz of water everyday.  I have met that goal every day but one.  In one week I have consumed 600oz of water.  I'm extremely proud of myself for meeting my goal for the past 6 days.

So I'm going to add a goal on top of that.  I am going to walk 30 minutes everyday for a week.  I will start this goal tomorrow and post my progress and updates both on this blog and on Facebook.  If I can commit to just walking 30 minutes everyday I know I will get even closer to my healthy lifestyle goal. 

I'm looking for support.  If anyone has any negative comments, criticism or anything snarky to say please say it to yourself and refrain from posting it on either my Facebook page or here on my blog.  This is hard enough to do without facing any negativity. 

I'll be updating this blog for more then just these updates but I wanted, no needed some way to hold me accountable and this is a good way for me to do it.

Thanks in advance everyone!  Tonight I rest, tomorrow I walk!

Just Plain Exhausted

I sleep a lot anymore.  It just seems easier to sleep then to put energy towards actually living life.  I get so exhausted by going out and doing things.  I get so emotionally exhausted by having to make conversation.  I don't spend time with a lot of people.  I have a handful of close friends that I spend time with.  These close friends I know care about me and enjoy spending time with me.  I don't really understand why they like spending time with me.  I don't see myself as someone others would want to spend time with.  Yes, I know that is a negative statement but I don't really like spending time with myself so I wonder why anyone else would want to spend time with me.
That is telling isn't it?  The fact that spending time by myself is so difficult for me and yet I spend a majority of my time alone, by myself.  It's not that I hate myself.  It's not that I don't think I'm a cool person.  It's that I have such a lack of motivation to want to do anything.  And yes, I do mean ANYTHING.  The last time I took a shower was on Thursday.  Today is Sunday and I could really care less if I showered today.  It's not that I don't want to be clean.  It's not that I don't know that it wouldn't feel amazing to take a hot shower.  It's that I think, "what is the point?  I'm going to have to take another shower tomorrow."  And for some reason that thought in itself exhausts me.
Exhaustion seems to run my life right now.  Hence, why I rarely do anything.  And yes I mean, rarely do anything.
I've had this entire weekend off.  My roommate has been gone this entire weekend.  I have had the whole house to myself.  I have had the chance to do yoga and zumba in the living room.  I have had the chance to invite friends over for a movie night.  I have had the chance to clean my room and make it feel more like my bedroom rather than just a room I sleep in.  But I've done none of that.  I have opted to sit in the living room filling my brain with tv and movies.  It's easier on me mentally to be fed what to think then to face the reality of what it is I'm actually dealing with.
I'm dealing with depression.  Medically diagnosed severe clinical depression.  This is no surprise to those of you who have followed my blog or my life.  (I still think it odd that there are people who are interested enough in me to read about my life.)  What really confuses me is I have no idea why the depression is harder to deal with lately.  Why it has become a more ruling factor over my life.
I don't want it to be this way.  I do not want to spend the rest of my life fighting this blasted disease.  Just like I don't want to spend the rest of my life fighting my eating disorder.  And I'm struggling with both lately.
I have gained a lot of weight these past two years.  I want to live a healthy life.  I want to be active and feel good about running up a flight of stairs.  I want to embrace the beautiful woman that I am instead of constantly shunning away from the person I could be.
The problem is, I don't know where to start.  I feel like I'm stuck at the end of recovery and the beginning of healing.  I've overcome what I thought was the most difficult part only now to realize that perhaps the most difficult part is finally dealing with those things that keep me in pain.
I know that people will read this and think "oh jeez Tamara, stop feeling so sorry for yourself.  You have a great life and are very lucky."  I am not denying that.  I do have what appears to be a good life.  What I don't have is the energy to understand how to move forward from being in pain to embracing life again and all that I used to love to do.
So I sit.  And I think.  Even when being fed the stream of media, my brain still thinks.  Whether I want it to or not, my brain still thinks.  And it ponders how to get out of this depression.  That constant thinking is what exhausts me so much.  The ever persistant thought process of ignoring the pain and masking it for others.
That's why I sleep a lot.  Well, that's why I try to sleep a lot.  The never ending thinking tends to hamper the ability to even do that.  
It's exhausting, I tell you.  Just plain exhausting.

sigh

Breakfast, you unappealing little thing...

Breakfast.  It is the one meal I have always eaten.  Through the eating disorder and through the stress and through all the strife, it is the one meal I never allowed myself to skip.  Granted sometimes breakfast was only one little old egg white, but I still ate it.  I prided myself on eating breakfast.  It was what kept me thinking "I don't have an eating disorder" for as long as I did. 

Lately though I have no interest in breakfast.  I'm not hungry for it.  Nothing sounds good.  Nothing tastes good.  Consuming anything I cook or make for myself for breakfast is difficult at best.  Most days it is a struggle to finish it.  I eat a few bites, put my fork down and I don't want it eat anymore of it.  Sometimes I try to finish it, sometimes I don't and sometimes I actually do finish it.  The latter is the rarity anymore. 

At first I became very concerned with the fact that I wasn't interested in breakfast anymore.  "Am I regressing to old patterns?"  Well, no I'm not. I've always eaten breakfast.  "Am I going to starve myself?"  No, because I am eating other meals.  "Am I heading back down the road of having an active eating disorder."  My answer to that one was, "I don't know."  Which scares the hell out of me.

I have assured everyone I know that this lack of interest in breakfast is not serious and not related to an eating disorder at all.  But honestly, I'm not so sure.  I have had a ton of stress enter my life these last few months.  The kind of stress like I've never faced in my before.  Divorce, moving several times, unknowingly living with a drug dealer, being with out home and not having a source of income.  Any of those alone can cause stress.  I look at all of them together and wonder how I haven't had a mental breakdown. 

That is why I wonder if ED is trying to use this mega stress overload as a way to grip me back into his clutches. I've had so much stress lately that perhaps I am too weak to have the strength to keep ED at bay.  I know in my heart of hearts that I don't want to go down that road again.  But I never intended to go down that road in the first place. 

Here is what I do know.  I have fabulous friends.  In fact, I have more people that care about me than I ever thought possible.  So I know I have friends to lean on.  I have the tools now to defeat this before it gets too big.  And I have the knowledge of my past and what it was like for me to ever want to go there again. 

And I know this as well.  I am aware of what is going on right now.  I am aware that I want to skip meals.  I am aware that nothing tastes good anymore.  (that has always been the sure fire way for me to tell when it's kicking in.)  When food starts to taste that saw dust I know I need to wake up and ask for help.

Here's the thing to all my friends reading this who may be concerned.  I am very open about this disease.  So your comments, questions and thoughts are welcomed.  Please feel free to share whatever it is you feel like sharing with me.  I just ask that you remain respectful and kind in your comments.  I'm posting this more as an accountability thing on my part than to alarm any of you.

Now, off to find lunch.  I just hope it doesn't taste like saw dust.