The Downside of Blogging

This feels weird. Writing, I mean. Once again, I had no intention of leaving the blog for so long! I promised before that I would write a "final" post when I decide to quit blogging so that nobody will have to wonder what happened, and I will definitely do that. But I don't feel like I'm ready to give it up altogether yet, so here I am.

I'm about to get really vulnerable here...

When I first started blogging, I had no idea that my blog would gain so many readers. I had actually been writing for 11 years at that point, but I switched over to the Blogger platform because it was much easier to add pictures than the platform I'd been using. I basically wanted to document my struggles and triumphs in regard to my weight and running goals. (I didn't know that Blogger would make me more noticeable on the internet. Having a handful of readers at the time was comfortable for me, as I'm an (ironically) private person in general.)

The very early days of Runs for Cookies... so young and unaware of what was ahead! ;)

Later that year, I had a couple of big things going on--I was invited to be on The Dr. Oz Show to talk about my weight loss and I had skin removal surgery to remove the excess/loose skin around my abdomen. I remember signing in to blog one day and I saw that the page views had jumped from 100-ish to about 10,000 overnight! Rather than get excited, I was extremely anxious about it--why on earth are people reading what I write? Don't they know I'm not a "real" writer? I can't possibly write private or vulnerable things here!

I soon discovered that there were a lot of people out there going through the same things that I was, and it was great to have that support system, so to speak. And then I started to get a few negative comments here and there, about random tidbits I'd written, and they stung a little. I only ever had good intentions, didn't speak badly about people, and stayed away from very controversial topics. Besides, 99% of the people I interacted with were so kind! I didn't understand the negativity.

[Side note: I believe there is a big difference between "constructive criticism" and just plain rude or mean-spirited comments. I've received a lot of constructive advice/criticism over the years and I appreciate it--I've learned a lot of new things from commenters who are kind in offering their opinions/advice. The negative comments I'm referring to in this post are the mean-spirited and/or rude ones, where the only purpose is to hurt my feelings or shame me.]

Also worth noting: I know that by opening up a large part of my life here on the internet, I'm basically asking for some rudely-worded criticism. But I loved writing and meeting some amazing people and I tried to go with the "it comes with the territory" belief.

I was able to brush off the comments that were really ridiculous ("Don't you know how much sugar is in grapes? You eat so many of them. You're going to get diabetes." I actually got several comments about eating too many grapes, and those comments were easy to laugh at. Actually, some of my friends will still banter with me about my horrific grape habit, ha ha.)

However, some of the comments were really hurtful. I found that it's usually the comments about the things that I'm already insecure about that hurt the most--I began to wonder if everybody thought of me that way. ("I can't believe you would let your kids have all of those sugary toppings on frozen yogurt. You're teaching them your bad eating habits and they're going to get obese too.")

That, along with some other parenting comments, planted the seed that I was a bad mom, which led to questioning other decisions I made. If I wrote about something I was proud of, like throwing away the second half of a brownie rather than eating it when I knew that half was plenty, I was told, "That's not something to be proud of, unless you're proud of eating disorder behavior.")

Because being a stay-at-home mom isn't very common anymore, I have dealt with a lot of criticism from that. Jerry and I are very happy that we made that decision 20 years ago, and we wouldn't change it. Jerry feels good about supporting our family and I truly enjoy being a "homemaker". I know it's not for everyone, and that's okay. We made the decision that we felt was best for our family. There is SO MUCH MORE to being a stay-at-home parent than taking care of the kids, and the comments that told me I was lazy, worthless, and a bad wife made me upset. I have two absolutely amazing kids--people tell me all the time that Jerry and I raised great kids--and I like to think that my being a stay-at-home parent helped in that way.

There are people that can read comments like that and laugh them off or just forget about them... I wish I was one of those people.

As Mark would say, "Ain't that the truth." (If only I could flip a switch and do it!)

As I was growing up, I can't even begin to guess how many times I was told I was "too sensitive". I admit it--I'm a sensitive person! [Note: That is *not* to say that I get offended easily, however. It's actually very difficult to offend me. When people are joking around or they are friends of mine or bantering, etc... it's great to laugh, especially at myself!] But when someone wants to hurt my feelings, it's (unfortunately) very easy to do so.

I care so much about making people happy and when I feel like I disappoint them in some way, it makes me feel really bad about myself. [Note: I know this is more about me than the other person and I need to work on my self-confidence and all of that. Comments from strangers should not affect me like this. I recognize that. But I can't just snap my fingers and make myself into someone that I've never been.]

Through the years of blogging, I've read a lot of not-so-nice things about me. The first few times you read something negative about yourself, it can be fairly easy not to put much thought into it. But reading it over and over for years began to take a toll on me. I still loved writing (I have met so many amazing readers and friends due to my blog) but my self esteem was taking a hit with each mean-spirited comment, even though there weren't many of them.

One day in August of last year--I remember it like it was yesterday--I had a couple of negative comments and reading them at that moment just kind of broke me. I was still going through The Worst Year Ever and was feeling about as low as I could get; reading that I was a "lazy wife without a real job" hit me like a punch in the stomach. The timing couldn't have been worse.

My already-severe anxiety went through the roof. I wondered if everybody thought I was lazy and forced my husband to work like a slave just so I could sit around and watch TV and eat bonbons all day. And since I'd gotten comments before about how I exaggerate my feelings and that I don't have "real" anxiety, I didn't feel like I could write about it.

There are a lot of topics that I stopped writing about over the years for that reason. When I opened up one time about having too much empathy--I know that sounds weird, but it affects my emotions so hard that I wish I could turn it off sometimes--someone called me a narcissist. I'd wanted to write much more about it so I could describe what I meant and even see if anyone else had the problem, but I felt judged and too vulnerable after that.

I want so badly to have thick skin, to not worry about what others think of me, to stop trying to please everyone, and to live my life without apology! (If you are one of those people, don't ever take it for granted. I envy you.) When taking a break from my blog, I felt like I could do what I wanted and not be judged or criticized for my decisions. Over the last year, my anxiety over writing has been really hard on me.

Right now, I have a big lump in my throat, my hands are sweaty, my heart is racing, and my stomach is in knots... all things that happen when I'm anxious. Out of all of the 3,681 posts I've written, this is the one I am most anxious about posting. I always planned to write something like this before I quit blogging--I hope that everyone reading this will see that words, even from strangers, really can hurt people. 

When a bully started calling me "Shamu" in the fourth grade, I became extremely conscious of my weight... and I went on my first diet. I also started binge eating and eating in secret. I'm not saying that wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been called Shamu; but I do know it was a catalyst for a lifetime of issues with my eating habits.

Again, there are people that can brush off comments like that; and then there is me... sensitive to the point that I begin to question myself in all parts of my life. And again, I know this is a problem *I* need to work on, and I am always trying. I'm not writing this to say a big "eff you!" to the people that criticize me (although I definitely want to sometimes); rather, I hope to give some perspective on how tiny words can make a big impact on someone's life.

To end this with a positive note, I do want to say that I am SO thankful for all of the kind people out there. Just like hurtful words can make me feel bad about myself, the overwhelming positivity from 99% of my readers has kept me writing for the last 13 years. I don't fish for compliments when I write, but a kind word never fails to take a little of the sting out of the mean ones. And while I am horrible about replying (I am so sorry about that), I do read and take to heart every single one of them. It's not just the negative comments that affect me. I've gotten so much positivity through the years that my heart feels like it will burst sometimes.

When I started this post, I planned to just write a little about the last month or so--has it been that long?!--but all of this just spilled out. I think I'm just exhausted from holding it in all the time.

Anyway, I hope to write again soon. I've had an eventful end to the summer--including my first airplane flight since 2019!--so I will try to give the CliffsNotes version when my stomach isn't it knots ;) 

Now, I'm off to eat some of the diabetes bombs grapes that are on sale for 99 cents a pound!

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The Most Vulnerable Parts of Me

This picture is old (2020?) but I don't have that shirt anymore

Like I said yesterday, I'm not going to weigh in today. After being gone for a week and totally out of my comfort zone, it wouldn't even be a fair representation of my weight. I'll continue my Wednesday Weigh-Ins next week.

I want to write about something that I always assumed was pretty obvious, but perhaps it's not to some people: I don't write *everything* about me or my life on my blog. There are a LOT of personal things that I just choose not to write about for whatever reason. I do share quite a bit (probably too much) here, which is why I'm sure some people feel like they know me (and I love that! I feel like I know a lot of you, too.)

However, when I'm going through a tough time, sometimes I don't want to write about it (or it's not my story to tell). And I don't feel like I owe an explanation to anyone (even if I want to "defend" myself from the criticism). I've been going through a very rough patch over the last year or so and some things I choose to share, while others I choose not to. I experienced something rather traumatic last year and it's not something I feel comfortable opening up about. I am still working on getting past it, but that is one reason I have been feeling so emotional.

When people don't have the full picture, it's hurtful when I am judged for simply what I choose to write about. I write about all sorts of things--good and bad--so it's not like I'm cherry-picking only the best parts of my life to share. (That's for people to do on Facebook, hahaha)

This is a personal blog, and I'm aware that I open myself up to criticism for posting it publicly (and constructive criticism is fine!) but I also ask that the rude judgment be reserved for the whole picture and not just snippets of my life. I do downplay a lot of my emotions here because I try to "stay positive!" and "look at the bright side!". However, when I do write vulnerable posts such as this, I am always honest in what I choose to share. 

My blog has changed so much, especially over the last eight years or so. I used to be very candid and I wrote lots of personal things; but over time, my writing has become more and more vanilla. I try to avoid certain topics that I know people will read too deeply into; I don't write much about mental health anymore, even though it's a huge part of my life; I quit writing about budgeting, because people don't know our whole financial picture. I could write a whole post about why I don't share food logs anymore! And parenting? That's just opening a huge can of worms.

I don't have thick skin--I never have--and perhaps blogging was the wrong choice for me. I never thought my blog would gain so many readers; when I started writing, there were a handful of people who had been reading my "online journal" for a decade. (I started blogging in 2000, only it was on a different platform; I switched to Blogger simply because it was easier to share pictures in posts! I didn't realize how much more exposed it would be.)

When people are mean to me, it hurts! Even when they are complete strangers. I wish I could "brush it off" like all of my friends and family tell me to do, but it's not that simple for someone like me. I take everything to heart; when I do my best to be kind and it's received poorly, I feel like there is something wrong with me. Then I overthink it to death.

Over the last several years, people (not necessarily my blog readers, but just people in general) have gotten so sensitive to everything--I constantly wonder if I'm saying something that might offend people. Or using a word that is no longer politically correct. Or making a joke that people may not realize is a joke. I always have good intentions when I write and I never mean to offend people. Most of the time, it's easier to avoid certain topics altogether.

People that know me in real life know that I'm a genuinely NICE person. I'm shy, but I'm always polite and I do my best to make people feel comfortable. I try to see the best in people, even the ones who don't like me. I'm generous--with friends, family, and strangers--and I don't post about those things because I don't do them for recognition. I just like to make people happy!

Not everybody is going to like me, just like I'm not going to like everybody I meet. However, I do my best not to judge people (and if I do, I usually catch myself quickly and change that thinking). I'm extremely empathic (to a fault, for sure) and I always try to put myself in someone else's shoes before judging.

I recognize that everybody is different and I respect others' opinions (even though I don't always agree). I don't think there is a "one size fits all" for a multitude of topics--diet, exercise, parenting, financial decisions, etc.--and I make sure to keep that in mind when chatting with others.

So, when I say that I feel overwhelmed (and have felt this way for going on a year now), I'm keeping quite a bit of it to myself. Sometimes I don't want to open myself up to criticism about certain topics and sometimes there are some things that I'd just like to keep personal.

Because of my hyper-empathy and that I always want to make sure people are happy, I put a LOT of pressure on myself. And when people aren't happy for some reason, even if it's something that has nothing to do with me, I blame myself for it. (I know this isn't logical, and it's something I've discussed multiple times in therapy, but I think it's just a part of who I am.)

I want to do what I can to "fix" it and make everything all better so that people are happy again. Since I don't actually have the power to do that, I feel like I've failed--as a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, an aunt, a niece, an in-law, a blogger, a pet-mom, a neighbor, and probably other hats I fill.

It really saddens me when I see some of the comments that people leave for each other on social media. I no longer use Facebook (well, maybe I'll look through the feed about every 2-3 weeks); I rarely use Instagram, although I do find it to be more positive than Facebook; and I don't use Twitter, Snapchat, TikTok, or any of the other platforms that people use to say mean things. I know of at least two teens (through my kids) that recently took their own lives, and the comments they received on social media played a huge role in their suicides.

Wow--I didn't intend to make myself quite so vulnerable in this post, or make it this somber. The short version is that none of us knows the whole story of what other people are going through. Judging someone based on a short snippet of their life isn't fair to them. In a perfect world, we would all be kind to each other and if we didn't have something nice to say, we wouldn't say anything at all.

It's obviously not a perfect world, but it doesn't hurt to do what we have the power to do. We have the choice to decide how to treat others and I think the way we choose to do that speaks volumes of ourselves. As much as I want to rant about a comment I may get on occasion, I choose not to engage in that sort of behavior. To be a genuinely kind person, I have to act like one--and if more people did that, maybe we'd be on our way to a perfect world. Hey, I can dream ;)

Note: I want to make sure that those of you who have been kind to me in some way--whether through comments, cards, gifts, emails, phone calls, texts, donations, well-wishes, or in-persons--I appreciate every last one of you. I would have quit blogging eight years ago if I didn't fall in love with so many nice people! I want you to feel this very heartfelt thank you <3 

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Let's Talk About Alcohol

Once again, this is going to be a very vulnerable post that I really have to post when I'm feeling brave and mentally stable (not depressed). I wasn't planning to ever write about this so candidly, but recently something happened and I feel compelled to write my thoughts. (This is a SUPER long post, by the way.)

Someone that I am close to (let's call this person "Charlie"--a gender-neutral name--to maintain privacy. I'll also use they/them pronouns for the same reason.) Charlie and I have always been close; we deal with a lot of the same issues surrounding mental health--particularly anxiety.

I've known for a long time that Charlie has had a problem with alcohol, but it wasn't to the point where most people would consider it "rock bottom"--things like DUI's, losing family, losing jobs, losing houses and cars and spending all available money on alcohol.

Charlie likes to drink in certain situations--downing drinks during the days/nights off work. I won't get into those details in order to keep Charlie anonymous. However, Charlie was also able to show some restraint--no drinking on work nights. In this sense, you wouldn't think of Charlie as a Frank Gallagher-type alcoholic (Frank Gallagher is a character on the show Shameless--a stereotypical "drunk"). Charlie is a functioning frequent-binge-drinker whose problem has been getting worse over the years by using alcohol to self-medicate.

(For clarity, "alcoholism" is no longer the preferred label; it is now called "alcohol use disorder"--AUD for short. And it is more of a spectrum--from occasional binge drinking to drinking all day and all night.)

Last week, Charlie shared with close friends and family what was going on and that they'd decided to go to a treatment center for 30 days. I expressed just how proud I was and I REALLY admired their vulnerability in sharing such a personal struggle. I never had the guts to be *that* open and detailed about my relationship with alcohol. It's because of Charlie that I decided to write this post, actually.

On Thursday, Charlie entered detox/rehab in California (far from home). The people who'd learned what was going on were surprised--they didn't realize how bad the drinking problem had gotten (or that it was a problem at all). I talk with Charlie frequently and I felt it was only a matter of time for them to seek help. (I quit drinking in February 2021, but I never pushed them to quit; they knew that alcohol was a problem and I knew that nothing I said was going to push them into quitting. I never judge anyone with an addiction.)

Problem drinking is more of a spectrum than a yes or no whether one has Alcohol Use Disorder. I would be willing to bet that a LOT of people fall into the spectrum and don't really realize it. The DSM-V (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition) that is used to diagnose mental illnesses considers these symptoms for Alcohol Use Disorder:

For AUD to be diagnosed in the U.S., the individual must meet the criteria laid out in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), published by the American Psychiatric Association (APS). 

The criteria include having a pattern of consumption that leads to considerable impairment or distress. 

At least three of the following criteria should have been present during the past 12 months:

• Alcohol tolerance: The person needs a large quantity of alcohol to feel intoxicated. However, when the liver is damaged and cannot metabolize the alcohol so well, this tolerance may drop. Damage to the central nervous system may also reduce tolerance levels.
• Withdrawal symptoms: When the individual abstains from alcohol or cuts down, they experience tremors, insomnia, nausea, or anxiety. They may drink more to avoid these symptoms.
• Beyond intentions: The person drinks more alcohol, or over a longer period, than they intended.
• Unsuccessful attempts to cut down: The person is continuously trying to cut down alcohol consumption but does not succeed. They may have a persistent desire to cut down.
• Time consumed: The person spends a lot of time obtaining, using, or recovering from alcohol consumption.
• Withdrawal: The individual withdraws from recreational, social, or occupational activities that they previously participated in.
• Persistence: The person continues consuming alcohol, even though they know it is harming them physically and psychologically.

I'd written before that I felt the need to quit drinking. However, my life hadn't spiraled out of control from it: I wasn't losing my family or friends; I would never drink and drive; and I never became angry or mean when drinking alcohol. In fact, I was probably more pleasant! However, I knew that it was a problem, especially considering that I used alcohol to alleviate my anxiety (self-medicate). And I definitely downplayed it, including here on my blog.

I really started to worry about it in 2018 and in 2020. (If you may remember, I quit drinking for 2019 as an experiment to see if/how it would change my health/life.) In 2020, I thought maybe I could go back to having a small glass of wine now and then, or even a small glass of wine in the evenings like I did for many years (4-5 ounces of red wine) with no problem whatsoever. Well, that lasted all of a few days. Within a short period of time, it was right back to the 2018 problems with alcohol.

One glass turned into two, and then two into a whole bottle throughout the evening. When one bottle eventually turned into two, I was really concerned. I also hated waking up feeling like crap.

It's extremely common for people with bipolar disorder to have addiction issues--alcohol, drugs, food, gambling, sex, shopping, etc. Personally, alcohol was my way of coping with anxiety. I have generalized anxiety disorder and if you don't know what that feels like, it's horrible. This short video will make you feel the anxiety that people with generalized anxiety disorder feel pretty much all the time...

Hahaha! I laugh, but it's a good example of the knot in your stomach when anxiety takes over. (Which is exactly what is happening to me right now at the thought of actually publishing this post!)

Anyway, alcohol always eased my anxiety (at least temporarily). It made me a funner person, more social, more talkative, and generally happier! (I want to stress that these feelings were temporary; once the alcohol wore off, I felt terrible about myself.)

Luckily, I was able to quit drinking on my own. (I was afraid someone would recognize me if I did something in a group setting.)

I even remember my last time buying alcohol: I went to the party store (which is called a convenience store or liquor store or other things in different areas--in Michigan, a party store is basically a convenience store that sells snacks, alcohol, cigarettes, and a few essential groceries). The owner always kept "my" wine in the back cooler so when I walked into the store, I would head right into the back and get it. On that day--the day before I quit drinking--when I came out of the cooler, there was a man trying to pick out something his girlfriend would like to drink. I asked what kind of things she liked and then suggested a couple of things to him. He got into line to pay and I was in line behind him. He apologized to me and said he thought I worked there which is why he was asking me questions! Hahaha. He, the owner, and I all shared a laugh.

It was funny at the time, but later I realized how sad the whole situation was. Being on a first-name basis with the owner, the fact that he kept my wine in the back cooler for me, the fact that I was able to suggest drinks for someone's girlfriend and he thought I worked there... and I decided to quit. That day was Valentine's Day, so my first day of sobriety was February 15, 2021.

The last time I mentioned being "sober" on my blog, a couple of people commented that I shouldn't use that word because I quit drinking on my own without a support group and because my life hadn't fallen to pieces--a.k.a. "hit rock bottom"--and the comments kind of bothered me. It wasn't easy to quit! It was actually harder to quit drinking than it was to lose 125+ pounds.

When you lose weight, people compliment you and notice as you get smaller. They ask questions about how you're doing and praise you for a "good job". But when you quit drinking--for whatever reason--it's more internal. Once you make that decision, you have to do it without the external motivation. People certainly watch you at get-togethers, maybe to hope to catch you drinking, but nobody says anything about your abstinence in settings that may be triggering.

One thing I discovered that was really important was acknowledging sober milestones. To someone who quits drinking, a simple, "Hey, congrats on 90 days! That must be super challenging for you. I'm proud of you for sticking to it when I am sure it must not be easy," goes a long way.

I was very excited about milestones, but I only celebrated them in my head. Maybe people thought that because my life hadn't fallen to shit before I quit drinking, it didn't mean that much; or that it wasn't hard for me to quit. (I do have a friend who became sober on May 1st and I hope to share his story as he approaches the one-year anniversary. He made sure to text me for my own important milestones and it meant a lot to me! I did the same for him--and still do.)

If there is one piece of advice I can offer to loved ones of those with alcohol use disorder (AUD) who became sober (no matter how they did it) it's this: Acknowledge their efforts, even long after they quit drinking. Something that would go a long way is saying something like, "Hey, I know this must be so hard for you being around all these people who are drinking. I just want to let you know that *I notice* your effort and I am really proud of you." Sober people can make abstinence look really easy! But they may be struggling inside and a little acknowledgment could be just what they need to hear.

When people do something hard--take an important final exam for a class or a job, lose a lot of weight, run a marathon, pay off thousands in debt, etc, they usually get a lot of praise and/or congrats. When someone gets sober, they are much less likely to receive that because they weren't doing something "above and beyond" in life; they were "fixing a problem". I hope this makes sense.

I'm not exactly sure where I fell on the alcohol use disorder spectrum, but I know I was on there somewhere. Once I saw how brave Charlie was by being SO vulnerable--Charlie has terrible anxiety just like me--I started thinking about how maybe I should be more open about it. When my friend who became sober nearly a year ago admitted it to our group of friends, he learned that several other people we know have problems with alcohol as well. It just feels shameful to admit it, so people keep it to themselves. It would be so refreshing if everyone would talk about it!

By his speaking out, and Charlie speaking out, and now *me* speaking out, I'm hoping that others will be less ashamed of admitting it to themselves or others. I think it helps so much to have people around you who know what you're going through and they may be able to relate.

Well! Since Charlie will be in rehab for 30 days, I told Jerry that I'd like to give up something for 30 days in solidarity. My sister decided to do the same. I've chosen to quit snacking after dinner--which is when I tend to consume way too many calories in nuts or nut butter. For at least 30 days, I'll have tea or La Croix after dinner, but no snacks. That's a tough one for me! But when I find it hard, I know that Charlie is probably facing the most difficult challenge of their life. And theirs doesn't stop after 30 days.

Something I told Charlie before they left for rehab made a big impact in their mentality of quitting alcohol. So here is what I said:

When thinking of quitting, the first thing our minds go to is "forever". Rather than thinking of the good things that are bound to happen, we think of forever--we can never sit around a campfire and drink beer with friends; we can never get together for wine with our girlfriends; we can never have margaritas for a fun Cinco de Mayo party; we can never share a bottle of wine with our partner during a romantic dinner date; and so on. That's when a lot of people dismiss the idea of quitting drinking.

I told Charlie that those thoughts are "romanticizing" drinking alcohol. We romanticize those ideas in our minds and all we can focus on is that we can never do them again. I said that we shouldn't focus on "forever" and what we can "never do again"--we need to stop romanticizing the drinking because how often do those situations actually give you those feelings you imagine? And it's not that we can never do them again--it's just that we have to adapt to doing them without alcohol.

A lot of people quit before they even start simply because they think of all the things they can never do again. But since I quit drinking, I've done several things where I normally would have had drinks: sitting around a campfire, flying on an airplane (flying sober was terrifying), parties/get-togethers, dealing with stress after a long/exhausting day, etc.

This photo below was shortly after I got off of my first sober flight. (This was in 2019 when I quit drinking for a year; I haven't flown anywhere since!) Flying is a huge trigger for me because I have SO MUCH ANXIETY around it, and alcohol calmed my nerves. I "celebrated" by getting some overpriced frou-frou coffee drink from Starbucks. I just remember feeling so relaxed and GOOD in this photo. I took the selfie to capture that moment.

My dad had a drinking problem (I was too young to really remember) but he went to rehab and got sober when he was about my age. And he hasn't had a drink in over 40 years! There are a couple of other important people in my life that I really hope will make the decision to quit drinking someday soon--I really worry about them.

If I wasn't sober, I'd think I was drunk while writing this post because I feel like I'm totally spilling my guts here and it's something that I feel like I will be very judged for! But Charlie's honesty really inspired me. And if I'm judged harshly, so what? I am continually growing and learning and changing to hopefully be a better version of myself. :)

Thanks for reading, Friends. xo

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What Hypomania Feels Like (to me)

I was going to take a "mental health day" from blogging today; my anxiety has been really bad ever since I started feeling the onset of a hypomanic episode, and today I just wanted to work on a project with all of my focus so I don't think about anything else. But that is classic hypomanic behavior...

"Hey I'm just gonna stay up until 4 AM so I can fine-tune this miter saw until the 90 degree angles are PERFECT because right now they are at least 0.003 inches off of square and how am I supposed to make anything at all if the cuts aren't precisely 90 degrees? I might as well just pitch the whole thing in the fire pit and forget about woodworking altogether because how am I ever going to be good at it with angles that are off by a titanic 0.003 inches? That's shoddy work and I don't want to be known for doing shoddy work and if I just work on this tonight I know I can square up the cuts by morning!"

(I hope you know that I am saying this with tongue-in-cheek... but that's basically how hypomanic/manic thoughts work.)

Which leads me to this post. I may have written about this before, but since this is what's going on with me right now, I thought it appropriate to write about how hypomania FEELS. For the 99% of the population who don't have bipolar disorder, here is a description of what it's like for me. (It varies from person to person. I'm just writing about MY experience.)

If you're not familiar with the term "hypomania", it's an episode of bipolar disorder that is a slightly milder form of mania. Hypomania does not involve psychosis or delusions or require hospitalization. (I wrote a lot about bipolar disorder on the post where I "came out" with my diagnosis--you can find that post here.)

I'm SO ANNOYED by absolutely everything right now (by "right now", I mean much of the time during an episode of hypomania). When I'm hypomanic, my senses go into overdrive and it makes me crazy (well, crazier than I already am). Every single noise is magnified and trying to concentrate on something is impossible with all the noises going on.

Right now, just trying to write this, I hear Eli in the kitchen getting ice water--the ice cubes clanging around--while Joey's nails click on the floor as he follows Eli around. I hear the hum of the refrigerator and one of the cats walking around the living room. I hear the fan from my ice machine. I hear Noah across the house talking to his friends online. And I even hear my own heart beating.

The worst part is that all of the noises are at the same sound level--I don't know how or why this happens, but each of those noises is 10 times louder than normal and I couldn't even tell you which is the loudest.

Noah has a cold and he's been blowing his nose a lot--it is all I can do not to rip my ears from my head and throw them in the garbage disposal just so I don't have to hear that noise anymore.

My sense of touch is also heightened, and not in a good way. My clothes irritate my skin, but even my bare skin is irritated by the air around it. (I know how weird that sounds.) 

I also can't focus on anything. I know that contradicts what I wrote about wanting to work on a single project; basically, I get super focused on one thing at a time and I put all of my energy and effort into it, but at the same time, I can't focus on anything other than that. And then I get really annoyed when something distracts me from what I'm TRYING TO concentrate on.

This morning, for example, Eli showed me his geometry homework and said he thought it was dumb--that it didn't have anything to do with geometry. He was given a worksheet of logic puzzles (you know the ones that you read clues and you have to fill in the grid to solve the puzzle?). Well, I LOVE those things. I have even bought books of them to work on back before playing games on my phone and stuff like that. Eli said it was extra credit so he didn't have to do it, but I told him I wanted to do it.

So I grabbed the paper and was excited to work on it (at first, I was going to show him how to do it, but he had no interest in learning). Within 15 seconds, I knew I wasn't going to be able to do it because of all the noises. The house wasn't any louder than usual, but because of the hypomania, all I could focus on was the noise around me.

Another symptom that I experience with hypomania is anxiety. I have generalized anxiety disorder and anxiety is always there, waiting below the surface, but when I'm hypomanic it decides that it's a great time to mess with me. So I feel really uneasy and anxious without knowing why.

There are some good things about hypomania (although they don't outweigh the bad, in my opinion): I have lots of energy; I get in the mood to clean everything ten times over; I feel a higher sense of self-esteem; and I get super talkative. As a quiet, shy person, sometimes I really wish I was more outgoing and talkative. Hypomania makes me feel like I need to tell someone all the ideas and thoughts I have.

A lot of times I'll be talking to Jerry for a while and he's just staring at me with an amused look on his face. I'll finally ask him why he's looking at me like that. And he laughs and tells me that I'm talking a mile a minute and where on earth are all these thoughts and ideas coming from?

I also get very excited about all sorts of new projects and plans. I make lists of all sorts of things--as fast as I can write them. I come up with lots of plans and ideas (and sometimes I actually do them). 

In that sense, hypomania can be kind of fun. If it didn't involve all the other stuff I mentioned, I'd really enjoy it, actually. But the anxiety and the hypersensitivity cancel it out.

I'm on medication to manage bipolar symptoms and the meds actually do work wonders. Having episodes of both hypomania and depression are pretty much inevitable, though. The medication makes the episodes milder and much less frequent, but they do happen. Sometimes an increase or decrease in the dosage of my medication helps, but usually I just ride it out. 

Another big benefit to the medication is that I recognize what is happening now and I can also control my reactions. The noises, for example--when I'm trying to concentrate but the noises are totally overwhelming, I don't overreact and take it out on other people. I just deal with it silently, knowing that it will go away eventually. Before medication, I most definitely did not stay calm. 

Before my diagnosis and medication, my hypomanic episodes would last for months; then they were followed by depression, which lasted just as long (if not longer).

Now, though, the episodes usually last less than a couple of weeks. I can't wait for my irritability to go away! It would be nice if I could keep my excessive motivation and energy, though ;)

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Things I Can Do Right Now To Feel Better About Myself

I don't know what the deal is with my mood lately--one minute I think I'm hypomanic, and just hours later, I feel depressed. I might be in a "mixed state" of bipolar, which is basically having symptoms of both hypomania and depression at the same time.

Yesterday I felt super energetic and was very productive around the house. Today, I have had no motivation to even move. I watched a lot of YouTube videos about using a serger--it's super overwhelming, but I hope that once I start playing around with it, I'll understand it better.

Anyway, I started thinking of little things that make me feel better about myself. Some of them are really ridiculous and others are more meaningful, but either way, they are things I can do pretty much at any time and feel a little happier about myself.

* Style my hair and wear make-up; dress in "real" clothes and not just yoga pants and a sweatshirt (looking better makes me feel better about myself in general)

* Tweeze my eyebrows (I'm terrible at keeping up with them, so I feel gross when they are unkempt)

* Go for a run (I always feel better after a run--especially if it's a relatively hard one)

* Clearing out my inbox (it's extremely rare for me to catch up on email, but when I reply to several emails, I feel much better)

* Clean my house (I don't like the actual cleaning part at all, but when I have a clean house, I feel infinitely better). By the way, my house is NEVER as clean as the photo below! But that was when I was taking "after" photos of when I remodeled, so I cleaned extra good.

* Completing a task from my "To Do" list (I love crossing things off of lists, and even if it's something I really don't want to do, it makes me feel better to get it done)

* Actually writing a "To Do" list (when I get everything written down, it feels less overwhelming--like I can tackle one project at a time)

* Play a game with my family (we all enjoy it and it makes me feel good about spending quality time with them)

* Take a shower (including shaving my legs) and then putting on a fresh cozy outfit

* Fix something that needs fixing (anything from mending clothes to fixing a wobbly chair leg, etc)

* Painting my nails (I never paint my nails, because I can't go an hour without chipping them, but I feel good when they are done)

* Taking care of paying bills and getting all of our finances in order (I love having all of that straightened out and it feels good knowing that we're on track with our budget)

* And finally, writing a blog post! (I always have anxiety about trying to think of something to write, so when I write a post, it's a relief of that anxiety--and it feels good)

I want to keep this list in mind so that when I'm having a "down" day like today, I can choose something on the list to give me an instant pick-me-up.

What are some things that make YOU feel good when you're feeling bad about yourself?

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Where, oh where, has my weight loss motivation gone?

Raw, vulnerable, honest post ahead.

I don't know that I have ever felt so bad about myself as I have lately. This is a bold statement, because even when I was 253 pounds, I didn't feel this bad.

For coming up on 10 years, people have asked my where I found the motivation to lose weight; how I lost the weight; how I got through certain situations, vacation, etc. while continuing to lose weight; and just basically how to keep going when it's SO HARD.

And for years, I had answers that were truthful and (hopefully) helpful.

Now, I have a full inbox with similar questions, and I just keep letting it pile up because I don't have those answers anymore. I am one of the people who wants to know how to get motivated--determined, rather--and stick with it. (Here is the difference between motivation and determination.)

It's hard to believe that just three years ago, I was happier than I'd ever been. I wasn't running, or eating super healthy, but I felt fantastic. I did exactly what made me happy and I quit doing the things that didn't make me happy.

So why can't I do that anymore?

I'm very unhappy with my weight (I actually haven't gotten on the scale in 2-3 weeks, but my clothes feel a little tighter). The last time I checked, I was in the high 160's. When I was losing the weight, I was thrilled to have hit the 160's and I loved the way I looked and felt. Now, I'm about 45 pounds from my lowest weight, and 35 pounds from my (previous) goal weight. I'm about 25 pounds from my "I can be happy with this" weight".

(Normally, I'd insert a current photo here, but I never take pictures anymore--the one at the top of the post is the most recent.)

I stopped taking care of myself (not just the weight, but in most aspects). Each day that passes, I feel like I'm further and further "gone" until one day, I'll be at the point of no return. I know it makes sense to just start right at this moment and then I won't end up in that place. So why cannot I not find that fiery determination I used to have?

I used to set goals and work hard to achieve them. I used to look forward to all the little milestones that came with weight loss and running.

The things that I miss about being at my goal weight are so insignificant:

• Easily crossing my legs
• Walking without my thighs rubbing together
• Wearing form fitting clothes
• Not being self-conscious in photos
• Actually posting current photos
• Feeling inspiring--showing others that if I can do it, they can, too
• Running with ease
• Looking young! Did I write about what happened recently when Jerry went to the lab to have blood drawn? I went in with him, and the woman working there thought I was his mother. If that's not a slap in the face, I don't know what is.)

I know there are a million more things in this world to feel bad about, but right now, this is what is doing it for me. I desperately want to get back to that place of feeling good in my body, not feeling self-conscious that everyone is silently thinking about my weight gain when I run into people I haven't seen in a while.

I keep trying to have that "just get it over with" attitude--spend a few months doing what I need to do, and I'll be in a good place (or at least better) again--and then I don't have to think about this constantly.

I'm able to motivate myself by looking at old photos from a few years ago, but as I've said a million times, motivation doesn't work for weight loss. Determination does. So why can't I just find that determination I felt before?

I spent the last three months of 2019 running three days a week to get back into the habit. And then as soon as that goal was over, I just quit again. I think maybe I was making it too complicated by utilizing the MAF method and worrying about this or that. Maybe I just need to go back to the basics, like when I first started losing weight in 2009.

Back then, I focused on one thing and one thing only: don't go over my Weight Watchers Points (I was doing the Winning Points plan, which is still my favorite--their new ones are definitely not for me). I didn't worry about exercise, I didn't worry about what foods I was eating and whether or not they were healthy. I kept it extremely simple. Don't go over my Points.

When I switched to counting calories, I did something similar: Don't go overboard. I didn't set a specific limit of calories, but I tried to eat a low volume of food that I REALLY wanted and keep the calories from being higher than what a "normal" person would eat.

When I started exercising? Again, I kept it simple: 30 minutes, 3 times a week. No exceptions. And I eventually added that I couldn't go more than two days in a row without running. I didn't worry about my heart rate at all, and my only real goal was to get faster and run farther. Once I could run three miles, I followed a training plan to build my mileage. I didn't worry about speed work or heart rate or anything other than distance and pace.

I'm starting to wonder if I made things too complicated over the years. I've learned a ton more about running, but is that necessarily a good thing? There is so much conflicting evidence about types of training, who knows what is truly best? Maybe the best thing is to just run however it feels best.

As far as my diet, maybe I made things too complicated by trying to eat healthier things that I didn't enjoy so much. When I first started losing weight, I ate whatever sounded good to me, healthy or not. Gradually, I found my tastes started to change, and I naturally ate healthier (certainly not super healthy, but definitely healthier) because I enjoyed the foods--not because I was forcing them.

But maybe I made things too complicated by letting all those articles and advice (intermittent fasting, eating only whole foods, cutting out sugar, intuitive eating, etc) get in my head and tell me that what I was doing was all sorts of wrong.

Maybe it's time I just listen to my mind and my body and keep things simple. Forget everything I learned and do what feels best, mentally and physically.

However, that's the hard part. Once I learn something, I can't UN-learn it. So, if I choose to eat a piece of cake for breakfast, I would hear those voices telling me that it's "bad" and I should choose oatmeal instead, even if the thought of oatmeal is revolting at the moment.

I'm not writing this post to come up with a solution, which is what it's starting to sound like. I know what I need to do! I'm just writing thoughts as they come to me. I just know that right now, I'm very unhappy with my weight and the fact that I just can't find the will to care enough to do what it takes to change it.

I also have to accept that my life is far busier than it used to be. I have been so stressed out for the past year--and unfortunately, stress is my biggest trigger for emotional eating. I never really get time to myself anymore (I know, as a stay-at-home mom, you wouldn't think that's true--but the change in schools, raising teenage boys, and Jerry's work schedule have made me feel like I'm juggling more than I can handle sometimes.)

Anyway, I just wrote this because I don't want to pretend like I'm doing great with counting calories, or my challenge of not eating after dinner, or running again, or anything like that. This is the truth. I cannot find the motivation determination to stick with things.

I'm going to keep trying, though! I try to keep in mind how many attempts it took the first time for me to lose the weight before I was finally successful. I honestly can't count the number of times I tried.

So, you may hear about starts and tries and quits and all of that here, and hopefully I'll be able to get to the point where I can share some sort of progress. Maybe I'll even face the scale on Wednesday. I really want to just get this over with and stop feeling bad about it!

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My Biggest Fear (a writing prompt)

I'll write tomorrow about today and how it went with calorie counting and not eating after dinner. But for today, I'm going to do a writing prompt. This is a topic that has come up quite a bit lately in various situations, so I've been talking more and more about it.

I've touched on this a little before in 2016, but it was a sponsored post by Prudential, and I didn't go into much detail. Also, the fear has gotten worse since then, so I thought this would be a good writing prompt.

My Biggest Fear

Aside from the obvious--the passing of a member of my family--I have one fear that I don't think most people think about when asked about their biggest fears. Spiders are a huge fear of mine, but not that's not very significant--and if I had to choose between eating a spider or getting cancer, or something like that, the choice would be simple. I'd eat the goddamn thing.

My actual biggest fear is much deeper than that, and I get super anxious when I even think about it. I can remember the very moment that it started--back in November 2010. I was in the hospital at the time for my broken jaw and I was moved to a much quieter room in the ENT ward--a room to myself! It was very exciting ;)

Jerry was there with me in the evening (he stayed there almost 24 hours a day, sleeping on the tiny, uncomfortable couch in the room. Anyway, I remember the quiet room, the lighting being soft and not so harsh, and I just felt so comforted (or high on dilauded, haha). I just felt... happy. Relaxed.

I was relaxed enough to drift off to sleep, but just for a few minutes. Jerry was sitting next to me, and I felt safe as I fell asleep.

The next thing I knew, I opened my eyes and completely panicked. I had absolutely no idea who Jerry was or why he was in that room with me; I had no idea where I was or why I was there; scariest of all, I didn't even know who *I* was. I felt sheer panic like I've never felt before.

I started asking the strange man (Jerry) a million questions in row--firing at him the who, what, when, where, why questions. He had to explain between my panicked questions what was going on. The whole thing lasted probably about 90 seconds, but it was--literally--the scariest moment of my life.

And from that moment on, I knew I never, ever wanted to feel that way again. I was paranoid about going to sleep and I was so sure that if I did go to sleep, it would happen again. Thankfully, it didn't happen and it hasn't happened since then. But it remains my biggest fear.

My grandmother (who was affectionally called "Gobby" by her whole family) died of Alzheimer's in 1999. I was only 17 years old at the time, and I couldn't really remember what my grandma was like in the Before period. I only knew the After.

This was in the After; my birthday, in 1996

She was an active part of my life, however. We weren't close (I was a stupid teenager that found it embarrassing when my friends would meet her), but we saw each other often.

Right after I was born

I was trying to tell her that I'm a cat person, not a dog person!

When she was diagnosed and it became apparent that she couldn't be home alone, my aunts and uncles started to care for her in shifts. When it was my mom's shift, I'd go with her sometimes (my grandma lived right behind me).

I remember bits and pieces from Before. We played a game called Hate & Malice with two decks of cards. We would watch Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. I saw a commercial once for something called "the roller ruler" and seeing the amazing drawings people made on the commercial, I mentioned I wanted one too.

Several weeks later, my grandma gave me one. (Just a few years ago, my mom and my aunt were going through all of my grandma's paperwork, and they came across the receipt for her order of the "roller ruler"! It was a nice reminder of Before.)

This is my favorite photo of us

Most of my memories are from After. I remember my grandma calling me "Sue" (my mom's name). I remember her asking when "D" would be home (she called my grandpa "D"). I, and the rest of the family, called him Pippi, even though I'd never met him. He actually died on Father's Day when my mom was 16 years old. He had a heart attack in the middle of the night. This was the saddest time, when Gobby asked for "D". Although as an ignorant teenager, I found it odd and kind of funny that she couldn't remember these things.

Pippi died in 1968 (I may have that wrong by a year or so). And at the time that Gobby was going through Alzheimer's, it was in the mid to late 90's. She couldn't remember that her husband was dead for 30 years. At first, when her children told her that "D" had died, it was like my grandma was hearing it for the very first time. Can you imagine living that moment over and over again?

Eventually, they just started telling her that "D" would be home soon, he was just out. She would soon forget that she asked.

Once, she left the house in the middle of the night. I don't remember the details around this, but it was a big deal. After that, my mom put a motion detector chime near the front door so that whoever was staying the night would hear if she tried to leave agin.

My mom and her siblings sacrificed so much for a few years to make sure that she was comfortable and that someone was with her 24/7. As an adult, I think about that and it's the very last thing I would want! I certainly don't want my family to have to take care of me. I would be just fine in a nursing home (or, if euthanasia was legal, I would take that option for sure).

More recently, my aunt (Gobby's daughter, my mom's sister) is now going through the stages of Alzheimer's. When I see her, it causes extreme anxiety because it brings up this fear inside of me. I don't ever want a day to go by where I don't know my children's names.

Getting Alzheimer's in my biggest fear.

There is genetic screening to see if I carry the affected chromosome that may carry it; I really want to do the screening, but so far, I've been too chicken. I would really love to just KNOW--either way, good or bad--so that I can start planning now for either scenario.

However, I have a feeling that Alzheimer's will be in my future eventually. I don't know if it will be early onset. I find myself forgetting things much more frequently than I used to, and each time I can't remember something (especially words--I can describe what I want to say, but I just can't come up with the actual word for it) I question whether it's happening.. Each time this happens, it's like another tick on the clock toward the disease.

I've told Jerry my wishes--I don't want him caring for me, I want to be put in a home (or euthanized via the Death With Dignity plan--although Alzheimer's doesn't fit the criteria for that, because you have to be of sound mind. I've written so much about this that I hope it's clear for what I want. Jerry has said he'd never be on board with that, however.)

I would just be a burden to him and my family. That is not what I want at all, and that's one of the reasons that Alzheimer's is my biggest fear.

My grandma died just before Christmas, on December 19, 1999. Just over 20 years ago. (God, has it been that long?). She'd been on hospice care (at home) to make her comfortable in the end.

I remember one day just before she died, the whole huge family--kids, grandkids, great grandkids--all went to her house while she was lying on her death bed. She was loaded up with morphine, and she couldn't open her eyes, but she could slur a couple of words at a time.

Someone suggested singing a few Christmas carols to her, and even though I wasn't super close with my grandma, I lost it. I couldn't handle it. I went outside and sat on the stoop crying, just waiting for the singing to stop. I hate that song to this day.

My mom and aunt were there with her when she passed. My mom told her that she was going to see "D" soon. And my grandma gave a very soft smile and said, "That is good". Before taking her last breath.

My last time in her house. We were packing everything up for the new owners.

I don't ever want my kids to see the day where I forget who they are. Or if it affects my brain in the way that I turn very mean and hateful toward people, even loved ones. I'm not a hateful person at all.

I really don't ever want to wake up not knowing who I am again. It was terrifying. And that's what made Alzheimer's become my biggest fear.

Trying to show her how a "word processor" works

P.S. It drives me crazy when people call it "Old timers" disease or some sort of mesh between the two (Aldtimers). I remember when people first started talking about it way back when, and people tended to call it Old Timers. I honestly think that some people don't know the proper word.

Do any of you have experience with Alzheimers? Has it made you as scared as it's made me?

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A Blog Series of Favorite Posts #2: Mental Health/Illness

For the next week or so, I'm going to do a series of posts--I will share my favorite "oldies but goodies" from the past.

As you know, I LOVE writing lists. This is one I've been wanting to write for a long time, but it requires so much thought that I just have such a hard time deciding what to include on it! I have a lot of favorite posts over the years (as well as very cringey ones--maybe I'll do a list of those soon). I'd have to wear a paper bag over my head out of embarrassment ;)

As of the last few years, there have been lots of different categories on my blog: weight loss/gain/loss/gain; running; DIY/home improvement; mental health/illness; crafts; and just daily life in general. So, I think I'll separate these into categories to avoid having too many "favorite" posts in just one category.

I'll post just a few per day, so if you choose, you'll have time to read the posts. If I post them all at once, it would be way too overwhelming!

At the end, I will also include my most popular posts (which will likely be entirely different from my favorite posts) in case anyone is curious about those. First, though, my favorites...

Mental Health/Illness


Freeing Myself of the Anxiety of Social Media

I love love love this post. This is one of the most vulnerable posts I've ever written, spilling more about myself than ever before. And not giving a shit what others think of me! This post explains exactly how social media destroyed my life for a while and how I started taking back control. I still feel some of the feelings I wrote about here, but nothing like I used to. If you worry about what others think of you, definitely read this post!

7 Life Changes I've Made in Pursuit of Happiness

Once I was diagnosed with bipolar in 2017 and I started the correct medication for the first time in my life, I started a pursuit to my happiest life. I have so much to be grateful for! I tried to stop focusing on the negative and I pushed myself out of my comfort zone in order to pursue happiness. I'm a happier person today because of it. If you're struggling with depression, or just not feeling happy in general, I suggest reading this and trying out anything that jumps out at you.

A "Crazy" New Chapter in My Life

This is a doozy of a post, and I was terrified to write it. However, I got so many answers for the mental illness issues I was having, and I hoped that by writing it, I'd possibly help others who were going through something similar. I felt extremely vulnerable posting it (as I always do with mental illness) but I got SO much support that it remains one of my favorite posts to date.

Mental health/illness is a passion of mine, because it's something I've dealt with for my entire life. I am always open to talking/writing about it, so please feel free to ask me questions. I have other posts about it on my Mental Health page.

Tomorrows topic: Running! I hope you are enjoying reading these oldie but good posts.

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A Chat About My Weight (The elephant--haha!--in the room)

(All photos in the post were taken within the past year)

If you haven't noticed, I haven't been writing much about my weight at all on my blog lately. It's not that I'm trying to keep secrets or anything--I've already talked about my weight gain, and how I'm the heaviest I've been in eight (err, nine) years. That's nothing new.

And really, I haven't written much about it because there isn't much to write! I still weight myself occasionally (not every day, like I used to--maybe about once a week). When I write it down in my little calendar book, I don't really think anything except, "Ugh, I really need to do something to drop these extra pounds."

Yesterday, after I weighed in, I decided to flip through the book and see how long it's been since I was at my goal weight (or close to it). When I started gaining weight. All of that kind of stuff.

And I noticed the most unbelievable thing.

I have actually been within a five-pound weight range for OVER A YEAR. (Let me just add that this is the info I got from my weight log; so if I happened to mention a lower or higher weight in that time, I'm sorry, it's not intentional. I may have dipped a little higher or lower for a minute).

Anyway, when I wrote that post about being the heaviest I've been in eight years (that was in September 2018), I weighed 162. I remember being a little stunned that I'd gotten back up into the 160's. I wasn't proud of it, but I knew it was from emotional eating (and alcohol). I wanted to take it off, but I didn't care so much about the number. I changed my weight goal (without looking back at the post, I want to say 145?).

Throughout the last year, I've given half-hearted attempts at losing the weight, but I just can't seem to get myself into that mindset. It's not that I don't care--I do--it's just that I am not in such a rush and I'm not willing to sell my soul to be thin again.

Yesterday, my weight was 166. I going to have to go back and plot my weight for the last year or so on my Happy Scale app so I can see a graph, but I've literally been in a very small weight range for over 12 months now. Who would have thought that was even possible?! I certainly wasn't trying to do that.

Part of me starts to wonder about the theory of "set points" for our bodies (the weight that our body naturally gravitates to, where it's hard to gain or lose from that weight. I always hoped that if that was true, my "set point" would be about 130 ;)  Apparently, my body likes my weight in the mid-160's.

Keep in mind, however, that I hadn't been running more than a couple of times a month until almost six weeks ago, so that may have something to do with my weight staying up. Also, I gave up alcohol (for a year as an experiment--I'm not going to claim that it's permanent yet!) and admittedly, replaced it with comfort food when I'm anxious.

Other than the few semi-attempts at losing the weight, I've literally been eating whatever and whenever I want, however much I want, for over a year now. I think if I saw the scale continuing to climb, I would probably make more of an effort. But since the scale isn't really moving, I'm kind of loving that I don't have to count calories.

I'm sure many of you have heard of The F*ck It Diet by Caroline Dooner (Amazon affiliate link). (Also, I despise that title) It's basically the most anti-diet diet that is out there. She writes about how you basically don't have any rules whatsoever--eat what you want, when you want it, how much you want, and fuck everything else. We are not slaves to our weight.

I love the idea, but I wasn't consciously following that. It made me too scared to gain more weight on top of what I'd already gained. But looking back, that's pretty much how I gained it in the first place! I'd not heard of it at the time, and I wasn't intentionally eating that way, but I just had a "fuck it" attitude and thought I'd worry about my weight later, when I wasn't so stressed.

(Side note: Noah going to the community college has been a big stressor for me. That and Jerry's depression happened around the same time, and I was super worried and stressed. And anxious. Always anxious. I started drinking more to alleviate anxiety, which caused me to eat more and gain weight, and then I made the decision to go a year without alcohol to hopefully find other coping mechanisms for anxiety.)

The stressors haven't gone away, and sometimes I wish that life had a pause button, to allow me to catch up while the world stops. I am still working on finding ways to cope with anxiety (my favorite is still the games I play on Lumosity while I chew ice). Actually, a lot of the things that I do to avoid binge eating also help with anxiety.

There really isn't a point to this post! I just thought it was very interesting that I've maintained my weight for over a year without even trying, and even though it's about 20 pounds more than I'd like, I'm very thankful not to have gained everything back.

As far as my plans from here? I want to try to lose the weight, but in a different way. I don't want to count calories or make things overly complicated. I know where my problems are--I use food to relieve stress, and of course, it's never salad. Ice cream has been my go-to. I believe that if I made just one change--drastically reduce the ice cream (coupled with my return to running)--I will probably see a noticeable difference on the scale.

Yes, I change my mind about this all the time (hey, I'm bipolar!) but I'm allowed to. I can change my mind as many times as I want. And I am the one that lives with the consequences and who learns from my actions as far as what works and what doesn't.

I'm *starting* to feel little tingles when I think about running again (crazy, I know!) and so after my 3-3-3 running plan is up (3 miles, 3 days a week, for 3 months), I may set a running goal. Maybe a half-marathon or something. I don't care about my finish time (PR's are not on my mind), but it would be nice to work toward something other than my weight.

I have to say, the ODDEST thing about all of this is that I haven't had to buy new clothes. When I bought jeans to fit me last year (size 10), I never expected they'd fit me a year later. That's never happened. However, I'm wearing a pair right now. This is madness, I tell you! ;)

For the Cliff's Notes:

- My weight has stayed within a five pound range for over a year (mid-160's)
- I want to drop 20 pounds, but I'm not in a hurry
- If I do lose weight, it's going to be in a way that I am willing to do FOREVER. Something I've always preached!
- I'm looking forward to continuing with running and I'm hoping I'll set some future running goals once I'm done with my 3-3-3 running plan
- Being "thin" isn't as important to me anymore (maybe it's my age); I really want to be healthy and in shape

I'd like to update on this once in a while. Since I'm not going to be "dieting" or counting calories or anything, I don't know if I'll have anything to update. But if I notice anything changing (especially now that I'm running again), I'll post about it. I feel good about my decisions.

Right now. As for tomorrow, who knows?! hahaha

Here are a few photos of me throughout the last year. Some I hated and didn't post because I felt like I was "too fat". Some I thought were more flattering than others. But you know what? It is what it is. I am who I am. I'm at where I'm at.

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