The Catalyst Headache

It all started when I had COVID in September. When I say "it", I'm just referring to a series of little events that added up to where I am this morning. I wish I had been writing about this all along because it would be easier to keep up, but here goes...

In September, I got a headache. I'd quit drinking coffee the day before, so I assumed it was due to the caffeine withdrawal (my caffeine withdrawal headaches are terrible and I always vow never to get hooked on coffee again, then I do). The next day, my throat felt like it was squeezing shut. This is very common because of my generalized anxiety.

The following day, my headache was still persistent but my throat had gotten much worse--it was to the point that I *knew* I was getting sick. The telltale sign for me is always a sore throat. Sure enough, I got more symptoms and was down and out for a few days. It wasn't terrible, but definitely not fun. The worst part was my persistent headache and throat that just felt like I was being strangled.

I had been taking a decongestant around the clock with COVID so that I wouldn't get a sinus infection. I was happy that I never did--but my sinuses felt totally dry and I assumed that's what was causing my headache.

The headache actually started to get even worse. It wasn't excruciating or migraine-like, but it was there, non-stop, 24/7. I started taking more and more ibuprofen, 800 mg at a time, and it was barely touching it. I couldn't sleep. I got really moody because the headache was so persistent and I just wanted a break. I compare it to having a conversation with an adult and your young child keeps tugging on your pants saying "Mama, mama" trying to get your attention the whole time and you just don't want to interrupt the conversation.

Soon my whole face was hurting, particularly my jaw, my temples, forehead, and behind my eyes. After a couple of weeks, I knew it couldn't be the caffeine. COVID was long gone. My jaw was hurting so badly that I decided to go to the dentist. I'd been avoiding the dentist ever since Eli had oral surgery last December and woke up in the middle of it, feeling every single thing the oral surgeon was doing to remove his impacted wisdom teeth.

When I'd been sick, I was eating popsicles around the clock because they helped my throat. And the teeth on the right side of my face were SO sensitive to the cold. This wasn't totally new, and the dentist knew about it but couldn't find a problem, so I'd just been using toothpaste for sensitive teeth (Tom's actually works pretty well for that!). 

Anyway, I had a nagging feeling that I had a bad tooth or something. The hygienist took x-rays and said she didn't see anything on the x-rays, but it's possible I had a hairline fracture or something (which sounded terrible to me). And sure enough, upon inspection, she noticed a very small crack in my (#31) molar (the one farthest back on the lower right side).

The dentist said he could put a crown on it, but referred me to an endodontist because he said I should be evaluated to see if I need a root canal first. I had a root canal and crown in 2016 and I was terrified to ever have to get another crown (honestly, the root canal was easier than the crown). He said since I was having a lot of pain, there was a good chance I'd need the root canal--otherwise, I might still have pain with the crown.

I wanted to do nothing. Pretend that I never went to the dentist. Pretend that my tooth was fine. How did I chew ice for like 15 years and never get a crack, then quit a year and a half ago and my tooth gets fractured? While I don't grind my teeth, I do clench my jaw a lot when my anxiety is bad, which could be the cause. But the dentist said if I did nothing it would likely get infected, possibly causing an abscess and a much bigger problem than a root canal and crown.

As much as I wanted to ignore the problem, my constant headache was so bad at that point that I just made the appointment with the endodontist and hoped I at least wouldn't need a root canal. After having a severely broken jaw in 2010 (the surgeon said it was the worst broken jaw he'd ever seen), needing two reconstructive surgeries, and having my jaws wired shut for six weeks, you would think that maybe my bad luck with my teeth was over. But that would be too easy! It caused a dental phobia, and I always dread going to the dentist.

Anyway, the endodontist was SO kind. After taking more x-rays and examining my tooth, he told me the worst news yet... he said that he was pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to save my tooth at all. He said that if I wanted, he could start the root canal and try to save the tooth, but from his experience he didn't think it would work. He recommended extracting the tooth altogether.

The thought of it made me feel sick and I (embarrassingly) cried a little when he told me. Not only am I scared of any sort of dental work, I am now also scared of twilight sedation (which is what Eli had). I knew there was no way I could endure the extraction without the sedation though. He gave me a referral to an oral surgeon... and when I looked at it, it was the same surgeon Eli had had. I said there was absolutely no way I was seeing him, so he referred me to a different one.

Since the endodontist didn't think he could save my tooth I didn't want him to try, only to get halfway through a root canal before needing it extracted anyway. I wanted the least amount of procedures possible. So I called the oral surgeon and made an appointment for a consult, requesting IV sedation. I know people get extractions without sedation, but there was no way I could make it through that.

The oral surgeon was reassuring, especially when he took a panoramic x-ray and saw the plates in my jaw and learned how bad my dental phobia was. He was actually very surprised that I was never sedated when I got the arch bars removed (the metal things that held my jaw shut for six weeks) because it's such a painful procedure. (I compare it to flossing with wire as thick as a paperclip.) I told him about Eli and he assured me that he's never had that happen to a patient before.

The panoramic x-ray looks pretty cool, right?!

He also gave me more bad news. He explained that he highly recommended an implant where I'd be missing a tooth--not for cosmetic reasons, but because my jaw bone could start to degrade and cause a whole host of problems with my other teeth.

At this point, I was just so overwhelmed with all that was happening. It all started with a headache, and now I needed a tooth extracted and implant to replace it, followed by a crown? I asked a ton of questions about the procedure and if he could do it at the same time as the extraction (if I was already going to be sedated, I'd rather get it done in one procedure instead of two) and he said yes--it'll only take another 10-15 minutes.

My headache was still 24/7 (I'm not exaggerating when I say that) and I was desperate for relief. I made the appointment for the (very expensive) dental procedure. And in about three hours from now, I'll be getting IV sedation, having a tooth extracted and replaced with an implant. It has to heal for three months, and then I'll have to get a crown.

My anxiety is through the roof right now. I know this may sound like no big deal to most people, and why am I so worried about a stupid dental procedure? Most people haven't experienced a broken jaw I have and I feel like my fear is legit. But I will do anything to get rid of this headache. I've had to eat on the left side of my mouth for two months (which feels very unnatural) and avoid anything cold. I've been stress-eating and have gained 12(!) pounds in two months. I just want to get this over with and hopefully get back to normal.

Soooo, that's where I am at right now. I hope the next time I write, it'll be without a headache and the extraction and implant will have been uneventful and boring. Here goes nothing...

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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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Three Things Thursday: Seeking Discomfort

Wow. The comments on my post yesterday brought me to tears more times than I can even count. I'm going to try to reply to them this weekend. (I know I'm terrible about replying to comments, and I feel horrible about that!)  Thank you so much for the kind words.

Today's post was actually inspired by my psychiatrist. At my last appointment, we talked a lot about my anxiety. He told me about a book he wanted me to read called 'When Panic Attacks' by Dr. David Burns, and it gave me a lot of hope that I can heal the anxiety I feel all the time.

Coincidentally, later that night I randomly picked a show to watch on Hulu about Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I learned quite a bit about it and I hadn't realized that it was a form of anxiety disorder. On the show, people living with severe OCD receive the help from a therapist who specializes in it, and I was absolutely shocked at the difference in their OCD symptoms in just 12 weeks. (I highly recommend the show--it's called 'Obsessed')

The main approach, along with cognitive behavioral therapy, was exposure therapy--exposing them to the things that they fear or that gives them the most anxiety. Instead of coping mechanisms, they basically sit with the anxiety (in the situation) until it recedes. To me, it sounds terrifying to even think about!

I don't have OCD, but I do have generalized anxiety disorder (diagnosed by my psychiatrist years ago). There are some anxieties that are very common and relatable (which are probably the ones I'll list here) and also some that I don't even talk about because just the thought of talking about them gives me anxiety, hahaha.

Okay, so here are three things that cause me anxiety--and how I plan to expose myself to them in the hope that the anxiety will fade over time...

1. Make phone calls.

I don't know exactly when I started avoiding talking on the phone, but I can remember having anxiety about it as far back as my mid-20's. I don't think anything triggered it; I just found myself avoiding making phone calls whenever possible. (Actually, now that I write this, I think it was around the time that texting became mainstream.) It's interesting because I used to talk on the phone non-stop when I was in my early teens--literally HOURS a day!

I don't want to set goals for this or anything finite. I just want to face it head-on as much as possible--rather than typing out long-ish texts, I'll try calling first. If they don't answer, then I can just leave a message. The hardest part for me is actually just getting up the nerve and dialing the number. The conversation isn't what produces the most anxiety.

While I'm not going to set "goals" for this or anything, I do want to keep track in my journal about my anxiety levels. I can write what the level was before making the call and after making the call. And then over time, hopefully it will get easier and my anxiety levels will drop.

2. Meet new people.

I'm so bad at this. I feel extremely nervous when meeting people because (I think) I come across as very awkward. I'm not witty or quick to think of things to talk about. Jerry says I don't come across this way at all, but maybe it's just the awkward way I feel about myself when meeting someone.

You're only given one chance at a first impression, and I always worry that mine will be awkward for the person I'm meeting. I want them to feel comfortable!

This is something I've actually been working on for a while. I make it a point to make small talk with strangers when given the opportunity. For example, today I went to Lowe's as I saw a man trying to lift a piece of plywood onto a cart (which I know from experience is NOT easy) so even though I felt anxious about it, I stopped and asked if he wanted some help because it's much easier with two people. And thankfully, he wasn't too proud to accept help from a middle-aged woman ;)  I also chatted a bit with the cashier, who was extremely friendly, and I left the store with a smile on my face.

So, while this isn't something totally new to me, it's something I still have anxiety about (although it's getting less extreme). Now, I want to dive right in to seeking out opportunities to meet people. Talking with strangers, even just a short interaction, may help me become more comfortable when meeting new acquaintances.

3. Going places.

I don't mean running errands or anything like that. I mean doing social things or things that are just for fun. The pandemic played a big role in making me even more of a homebody than I already was, but for my entire life, I have always felt most comfortable at home.

I think this may have something to do with bipolar disorder (for me, anyway). I thrive on routine--doing the same things day after day--and as boring as that may sound to some people, it's how I feel comfortable. No surprises. Even having an upcoming appointment gives me anxiety because it throws my day out of routine. (I wish this wasn't the case! I'd love to be spontaneous or even just able to adapt easily to what's going on.)

When I am invited to go out or get together with friends, I feel extremely anxious about it (I honestly have no idea why--I love my friends!). When it comes time for me to go, I feel a sense of dread--which sounds horrible, I know--but almost always, once I am there, I enjoy myself and I'm glad I went.

To seek discomfort here, I'm going to make a list of people I haven't seen in a while, as well as people that I exchange pleasantries with--you know, the "Hey, we should get together soon and catch up!"--and then I will *actually* attempt to make plans. When I say that we should get together soon, I actually do mean it; it just doesn't ever happen. So, I'm going to try my best to make it happen--hopefully with a phone call rather than a text!

And even if I'm not meeting up with friends, I'd like to make it a point to go places "just because"--like go to the library to write my blog posts, or take Joey to a dog park instead of walking around the neighborhood. I'm more comfortable with the familiar--being at home--so I want to make it a point to go to a variety of places for a variety of reasons. Hopefully, I'll get more and more comfortable when stepping outside of my comfort zone!

---

I've been reading the book my psychiatrist suggested and I really think I will find it useful in helping me work on these three things. Then I'll talk to him about it at my next appointment. And maybe--just maybe--I'll be a less anxious me soon! :)

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Three Things Thursday #3

At my therapy session on Tuesday, my therapist and I were talking about my chronic anxiety. I feel a sense of dread all the time and I would do just about anything to make it go away. Lately, it's been really bad; I have one of the physical symptoms where it feels like someone is squeezing my throat shut. It's even hard to swallow. There is no physiological reason for it; it's just something that happens when my anxiety is high.

We talked about where it stemmed from, but I'm not going to get into that--it's a long story. But one of the things that we talked about in order to get more comfortable with certain topics is to think about writing about them. She said I don't have to write them on my blog, but one of the exercises she gave me was to think about things that I would like to do but haven't done because of anxiety.

So, I thought today's "Three Things Thursday" would be a good post for it! I haven't thought about this before, so I'm just winging it as I write. Here they are--three things that I would like to do but won't do them because of anxiety...

1) Be a running coach.

Technically, I already am--I am RRCA-certified--but I've never used my certification to coach people. (I obviously coach cross country to third-fifth graders, but I'm not counting that.) I would like to work one-on-one with people to help them either start running or to reach certain goals while running. I've gotten countless emails from people who have successfully used my running plans, and I love hearing the feedback. But since the running plans are free, I don't feel so much responsibility. If someone was paying me to coach them, I would feel like their success rests on my shoulders.

I think I would be very good at coaching, but I have too much anxiety to actually do it. I would worry too much about whether my clients were meeting their goals and if they weren't, I would beat myself up, thinking it was my fault. I'm a perfectionist, so I would spend way too much time trying to make everything perfect.

I've had several people email me and ask if I take running clients, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I would want the experience to be perfect for them and if it's anything less than, I would feel responsible. Maybe that sounds ridiculous, but it definitely causes anxiety.

When I got my coaching certification in 2013

2) Write a memoir.

I can't even count the number of times people have told me I should write a memoir. I actually had written a first draft several years ago! But I knew I would never attempt to publish it because I would have constant anxiety about reading reviews. I know that not everybody loves every book they read (I'm certainly one of them) but reading criticism about something as vulnerable as a memoir would just be too much for me. I take everything to heart and reading criticism about my insecurities would really make me want to crawl into a hole and hide forever.

This is similar to writing whatever I want to on my blog. There are a lot of things I'd love to write about or that would feel therapeutic to write, but unfortunately, I worry about the reaction I would get. They might be no big deal, but for some reason, certain topics or ideas make me extremely anxious to write about. Perhaps it's because there are people I know who read my blog, or because I know I will get negative comments that make me feel insecure, or maybe another reason.

Writing vulnerable posts always makes me feel anxious, regardless of the topic. Usually, I feel so much better when I see that nothing horrible happens, so I don't know why I have such anxiety about it. And most of the time, I get a very positive response from people who may be going through the same things. A lot of people tell me they are grateful for the vulnerable posts I share. I just wish I had the nerve to share more!

I really like this little philosophy below, but it's hard to imagine feeling such at ease with criticism. Maybe someday!

3) Go on a cross-country road trip all by myself.

This one isn't so much due to anxiety as it is practicality, I guess. If I didn't have any worries at home and if money wasn't an object (ha!), I would love to drive all the way across the country all by myself. I would stop wherever I felt like stopping, and see whatever sights I felt like seeing. I wouldn't have a phone except for emergencies (and a camera). I would talk with locals and hopefully meet some interesting people.

I wouldn't share about it on social media or anything like that. I'd just keep a journal and write about what I did each day. I would even pick up hitchhikers (this is a theoretical trip, so don't lecture me!) and listen to their stories. I would take all the back roads to enjoy the parts of the country I would never see otherwise.

Seeing Seattle from the Space Needle (not a road trip, but definitely fun!)

Wow, writing about this theoretical trip makes it sound so romantic--I wish it could actually happen! But I would have way too much anxiety about what's happening at home and how much money it would be costing me, and I would feel guilty doing it without my family. It's just a dream that I never really knew I had until I started listing it out here, haha.

Well, there it is--three things that I would like to do but can't or won't because of anxiety (and practicality). One of the major reasons I started seeing a therapist again is to work on my anxiety and start doing things that "normal" people do without feeling so nervous about it.

I'd love to hear what some of you would like to do but just haven't had the nerve. Are they rational anxieties? Do you hope to do them someday? Please share!

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Therapy

I don't have any transformations to post for Transformation Tuesday, which is a bummer! I still keep thinking it's Monday, though--holiday weekends always confuse me the following week. Today has been a long and exhausting day. I just got home from cross country practice and just as I thought, the kids were very excited about the fun donations to our team. After they ran today (speed and hills!) they did a six-legged race, which was so funny. (I'll post more about cross country later this week.)

I don't remember if I mentioned this already, but I decided to start going to therapy again. I know I keep writing about feeling super overwhelmed and I don't mean to sound cryptic; I was just hit with several big things at once (like the disaster in my bathroom/bedroom). That is still moving along, just very slowly.

I worry about my dad a lot because his health hasn't been good. My mom went to my sister's for a few days and she's usually the one that pushes my dad to go to the hospital or get tests done or things like that (my dad is stubborn and would probably never have gone to a doctor on his own). While she was gone, my dad got very faint a few times and he actually fell down five times in three days. He hit his head a couple of times, which is why my mom made him go to the ER when she got home.

Thankfully, the CT scans were fine; but it doesn't resolve his low blood pressure causing him to feel faint and fall. I know exactly what he's talking about when he describes it, because it's the same thing that happened to me when I fainted and broke my jaw. I also fainted and hit my head a few years ago. I have low blood pressure like my dad and I feel faint frequently when I stand up from a sitting or lying down position.

As if that wasn't enough for him, when he went to the ER, he tested positive for COVID, too! Anyway, I'm always worried about him now. He's got a lot of health issues going on at once and there really isn't a solution. He's tired of doctors and tests and I don't blame him at all.

To write about the other stuff I'm dealing with would invade others' privacy so I can't write about it--and that's actually why I chose to find a therapist. To top it off, my psychiatrist is retiring in December and I only have one more session with him. I really like him so I hope he can recommend someone that's a good fit for me.

Today was my first appointment with the new therapist and I'm glad I made the decision to go. I'll see her weekly for a little bit and then every other week and/or as needed. As you know, I'm passionate about mental health. I always tell people that finding a therapist is like dating--you might have to see several before you find one that you click with. Thankfully, I really liked her (I'll call her "A") and I'd like to keep seeing her. 

While this post comes off as a downer, I didn't mean for it to--today was a really great day. Better than I've had in a long time, actually--Jerry even mentioned noticing it before he left for work. And it will be even better when I eat some of the hash I made before I left for practice! I'm starving--you know, from watching kids run up and down a hill and yelling at them to keep going ;) 

I know I haven't been posting the daily "random fact" calendar tidbits, but today's was perfect for this post:

There is nothing wrong with seeking help for mental health, and I hope that by writing about it, there will be less of a stigma and more people will feel comfortable talking openly about it as well. I always feel vulnerable when writing about it, but mental health/illness is so important and I don't think it's something people should feel ashamed of.

Okay, I'm going to go heat up some hash and then hit the hay ;)

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A Mental Health Day

Yesterday was a much needed mental health day from the blog. It's usually when I'm having a hard time with depression/anxiety that I feel the most vulnerable and sensitive. Things that usually roll right off my back suddenly seem to steam roll me and make me feel like I just can't say or do anything right.

I'm not saying that I'm suddenly "better" and feeling great, but I really needed to take a break from writing yesterday. At least then I couldn't say something "wrong", hahaha. 

I'm so glad that I have my walk streak going, because now I just don't want to end the streak. I really REALLY didn't want to walk yesterday--I was just feeling so bad about myself--but I didn't want to ruin the streak, so I went out anyways. And I always feel better when I'm walking.

This was DEFINITELY me on my walk yesterday morning! Haha:

It's kind of interesting--I've actually started talking with a woman who lives halfway through my five-mile route. She has a black German Shepherd named Roomba (I think I mentioned Roomba before, when she ran after Joey and me and her "dad" had to come get her). Anyway, one day when I was walking Joey, Roomba came running up to us--although acting very skittish--and after a few minutes, felt comfortable enough to play with Joey. 

So, I let Joey off leash to play with Roomba, and Roomba's "mom" and I chatted. I introduced myself and she told me her name was Melissa. The whole way home, I kept thinking that I KNEW her but I just couldn't remember exactly how or what her last name was. I was pretty sure I knew her from high school, so when I got home, I looked through my old yearbooks. I didn't seen anyone who looked familiar with that name, so it still bugged me.

I saw her again a week or so later, and while the dogs were playing, I mentioned how familiar she looked. It turns out that we graduated not only from the same school, but in the same class! (My school was very small, so everyone pretty much knew everyone.) When she told me her maiden name, I immediately remembered her. I think she was a cheerleader and a part of the more "popular" clique than I was ;) 

I've seen her a couple more times, and it's been nice chatting with her. She and her husband rescued Roomba from a woman who was breeding German Shepherds and apparently, people weren't buying them once the whole COVID pandemic started, so she "had no use" for Roomba and wanted "to get rid of her". How sad is that?!

Roomba had spent her life thus far in a dog crate, being used for breeding. It's been amazing to see the change in her just since the first time I saw her a couple of months ago. She was extremely skittish and sudden movements made her jump and run away. Now, she goes crazy when she sees Joey and they chase after each other. I love it!

It was hilarious a couple of days ago when Joey and I walked by. Roomba ran over to us and they started playing. Being a German Shepherd, Roomba is MUCH faster than Joey (a lab/chow). They started running laps around Roomba's house. First, Joey was chasing Roomba... and then he just got farther and farther behind.

Eventually, Roomba came up behind him, totally lapping him, and they both looked so confused! Hahaha. I really need to get a picture of them playing. Seeing two black rescue dogs play and be SO happy is extremely heart-warming.

My token PSA: I only mention that they are black dogs because black dogs are the least likely to be adopted out! It's so sad. That's one of the reasons we chose Joey, as well as why we chose to adopt the kittens, Chick and Duck--both solid black as well. So, if you're looking for a pet... PLEASE choose one from a shelter or rescue organization; but also, consider adopting a black dog or cat. They need love, too :)

Anyway...

Today, I finally picked up the game I'd ordered from Target--Ticket to Ride (Amazon affiliate link). We don't have a Target nearby, otherwise I would have gone sooner. Thank you so much to those of you that recommended it! We LOVED playing it. Jerry and I played a game first to understand it, and then the kids played a game with us.

I don't know if it's just the lighting, or what, but Jerry's face is extra creepy in this picture!

I was a little overwhelmed when I was reading the directions, but once we got started, it was super simple. I love that you really have to work on strategy, though! It's not a simple game of chance. The kids liked the game and said they'd play it again (which is their best "teen" way of showing approval) but Jerry and I really loved it as a two-player game as well. It was much harder with four people! I came in dead-last ;)

I was cracking up at how we organized our train cars. Mine were the yellow ones and Jerry's were the black ones. Based on our personalities, one would think it'd be the opposite when you look at their organization!

I added to my wishlist a couple of other games that were recommended by readers as well. I've been on a big board game kick lately with this COVID lockdown.

Anyway, I'm feeling better today (thank you for the nice comments on Instagram!). Just a reminder for us all:

And as always... BE KIND!

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Cookies Fall Challenge - Day 1

Today was off to a great start! 

I'm planning to do all three challenges--the Cookies Fall Hard, Cookies Run/Walk Checklist, and the friendly mileage competition. I wanted to start the day off strong, so I completed what I could as early as possible.

Even though the Cookies Fall Hard Challenge is a modified version of 75 Hard, I'm still planning to follow the exercise rule for 75 Hard--I haven't broken the streak at all, so I'd like to finish out the full 75 days. After that, I'll switch to the Cookies Fall Hard version.

For 75 Hard, the exercise "rule" is two workouts a day for 45 minutes each, and one of them must be outside. For my version, I chose 60 minutes total for the day, with at least 30 minutes outside. So for a couple more weeks, I'll still be doing 45 minutes twice a day.

I went for my first walk as soon as it was light outside, at around 7:30. First, I took my progress photo for Day 1. I'm going to try to dress in the same clothes, or something similar, every week for comparison. Lately, I've been wearing bulkier clothes because it's been colder outside in the mornings, so my comparison pictures aren't very, well, comparable.

I walked Joey through the park and apparently we went slower than usual, because we ended up walking for 55 minutes instead of 45. As we were walking, I realized that I was supposed to do my walk at 9:30 AM, because that's when fall officially starts--and the plan was to walk from summer into fall.

When I got home, I decided to work on a couple other items on the list and then go for my second walk just before 9:30. I wrote in my journal, I read my 10 pages in a book, and I drank a quart of water. 

Then I headed out for walk number two. Right as the time hit 9:30, I happened to be at a small beach area so I stopped and took a picture of my Garmin--it's officially fall! (Sorry for the bad picture)

I even got to check off two items on my Fall Checklist--first the fall equinox walk and then the "two-a-day" walk (meaning I walked twice in the same day). For today's mileage, I got in 5.77--not bad!

I was DREADING this afternoon because I had a dentist appointment to get a couple of fillings. I absolutely despise going to the dentist--ever since I broke my jaw, just the thought of the dentist gives me anxiety. I canceled my appointments for the last two years because I just couldn't bring myself to go!

I actually had to have a root canal in 2016 on a tooth that had cracked when I broke my jaw. I was absolutely terrified! But afterward, I took this picture of me trying to blow a kiss (to text to Jerry), and it remains one of my favorite pictures--hahaha! I looked similar today, but definitely not this funny.

I found a new dentist (my previous one that I really loved had retired) and went for a cleaning yesterday. The hygienist was SO nice and gentle--that was the best cleaning I've ever endured. But I had a couple of cavities and the thought of getting my mouth numbed is what I hate the most. I asked the dentist if he could do it without numbing me, and he said that the top cavity could be done without numbing, but the bottom one would need to be. *cue anxiety*

I made the appointment for today so that I wouldn't have time to chicken out and cancel. I couldn't believe how bad I was shaking! I asked if I could wear the heavy lead apron (used for x-rays) during the procedure because it helps with anxiety (kind of like a weighted blanket). Even with that, I was shaking so badly and was nearly in tears.

I'm sure the dentist thought I was crazy (but hell, I actually AM crazy, so...). The thing is, I'm not actually afraid of the pain... I had a horribly broken jaw and my teeth wired shut for six weeks, so a minor dental procedure is nothing to me on the pain scale. 

The reason I have so much anxiety is because of the ANTICIPATION of pain. When my jaw was broken and the surgeon would mess with the wires around my teeth, it was extremely painful (despite being on loads of pain killers). If I KNOW that something is going to hurt, I can definitely handle it. But when getting a tooth drilled, I am always anticipating the drill hitting a sensitive spot and searing pain shooting through my mouth.

I was hyperventilating through my nose when he was drilling and I was so sure I was going to have a panic attack. I had my eyes squeezed shut and I was concentrating on clutching my hands together under the lead apron. 

I was so so so relieved when it was finally over. I hated the fact that the lower right side of my mouth was numb, especially considering I had to go to Lowe's. But thankfully, I had to wear a face mask so it covered up my crooked mouth!

Anyway, that was a long, uneventful story. Today went great as far as the challenges! I stayed within my intermittent fasting eating window and I got in all my water, too. I hope everyone else who is doing a challenge had a great day, too!

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A Couple of Relatable Mental Illness Documentaries

So last night, I finished watching the documentary "Overcoming Depression: Mind Over Marathon" on Amazon Prime. It's a two-part series about 10 people (in England) who have various mental illnesses--anxiety, depression, PTSD, OCD--and they train together to run a marathon. 

They are guided by a therapist, running coaches (not the hardcore type of trainers you see on weight loss shows making them work out for eight hours a day--just "regular" coaches who help them train), and a nutritionist.

I really liked the first episode, which introduced them and their stories. One woman, in particular, really had a heartbreaking story and I just wanted to hug her. She had a very young son (I don't remember his age, but he was crawling). He got sick and died very very quickly. It didn't go into the details of how he died, but it was too late to save him before he even reached the hospital by ambulance.

The woman's husband was so distraught by the tragedy that he took his own life just four days later, leaving her with their remaining children. Even though all of the medical personnel agreed that there was nothing more she could have done for her son, she blamed herself and became very depressed.

She still had to take care of her other kids, so she was just doing everything on autopilot. While speaking to the therapist, she broke down and started crying, then apologized for it and said she "never" loses her composure like that. I felt so bad that she was carrying that burden around all the time. As a parent, I can absolutely understand that feeling of blaming yourself for something happening to your child--even if it's not your fault. (Not saying that I know her pain, because losing a child must be unimaginably horrific; but I can understand the feeling of blaming yourself.)

Anyway, this documentary wasn't a "I have depression, and now I'm going to do everything the trainer tells me and I'm going to feel so much better and run a marathon and life is great!" (Actually, that sounds like my bipolar self, hahaha). I liked that their journeys were real and relatable (as someone with mental illness). 

There was one man who ultimately decided not to train for the marathon because of his anxiety, but he did manage to get on a train to go cheer the others on (going on a train was a huge deal for him--his anxiety over it was terrible). 

It's SO hard to describe to someone what mental illness feels like. Anxiety is a horrible feeling to live with, especially when it's generalized anxiety and there is no "reason" for it. It's just there. Listening to the people on the documentary describe their feelings was so interesting because they put into words things that I feel and it helps me to know that there are other people who "get it".

One thing that I really loved about this documentary is that it wasn't totally focused on this one end goal of running a marathon. Yes, that was the plan, but the main focus was using running to help fight mental illness. When I exercise regularly, it definitely helps with my anxiety. When I am going through a depressive episode, however, the depression makes it extremely difficult to exercise. 

I won't spoil the ending about who completes the marathon and all that. I wouldn't say that the film was amazing and fantastic and go watch it right now, but it was refreshing--refreshing to have real people share about their mental illnesses on camera and working on a real-life goal.

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After watching "Overcoming Depression", Amazon Prime suggested a documentary to me called "Of Two Minds" and it's all about bipolar disorder. It it's a feature length doc where people with bipolar disorder describe their experiences and how bipolar affects their lives.

I really liked this doc! Again, I love that people put into words the way that I feel and have a hard time describing. 

It's a film that I think people with bipolar would enjoy, but more so, a film that people with bipolar would like their friends and/or family to watch so that they can understand the disorder, too.

Of Two Minds was also great because it showed the humor that many of us can find in mental illness. I know it sounds so weird, but I do find humor in the quirks I have, and my "craziness". I don't want people tip-toeing around it--call me crazy! It's okay. I am totally crazy sometimes. 

If I'm watching a movie with the family and someone does something "crazy" that sounds like something I'd do, I'll say, "ME!" and then Jerry and the kids laugh because they know it's true. I LOVE funny memes about mental illness--it actually makes me feel better to see them because I know that others have a lot of the "quirks" that I do! (Here is a post of 100 of my favorite memes about mental illness).

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Anyway, those are two documentaries I've watched over the last couple of days. I love documentaries, and seeing these ones that I could relate to so much was great!

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My History With Coffee (and why I torture myself once a year)

Note, that photo is a year old. My face has filled out a bit more since then! Hahaha

I wasn't planning to write about this today, but I made the mistake of drinking a cup of regular coffee (not decaf). (I say "mistake" as in "it was stupid of me", not to be confused with "accidentally").

I purposely drank a cup of caffeinated coffee today.

Way back in 2010 (and prior) I was a regular coffee drinker and had no problem with it. Sometime in 2010 or 2011, I realized that it made my anxiety skyrocket. The week before I was on The Dr. Oz Show in 2011, I quit drinking it because I was SO nervous for the show and the last thing I needed was more anxiety.

I had the worst headache of my life for about five days, and nothing would relieve it. But once I got over that, I was scared to drink coffee again. Every once in a while, though, I'll drink it just with the hope that it won't have that affect on me anymore.

What is the definition of insanity, again?

The caffeine makes me very jittery, nauseous, irritable, and anxious. I want to be one of those people who loves coffee! (Why? I have no idea. But I could use a pick-me-up once in a while if it didn't come with the awful side effects) I do love my decaf coffee with cream and sugar, and I've been having that as a treat after dinner lately.

While intermittent fasting, I do a "clean fast"--meaning that I don't consume anything but plain water, black coffee, or unflavored black tea during my fasting hours. Today, at around 3:00, Jerry was making coffee and I was feeling tired after a very busy morning/afternoon. On a whim, I asked him to pour me a cup (a small cup--like 6 oz).

I thought I would hate drinking it black, but it actually wasn't bad! I definitely prefer to have it with sugar and heavy cream, though.

Anyway, I drank this small cup of coffee and felt fine. Until about 4:00. 

I started to feel really nauseous and I got shaky. I felt incredibly anxious for no reason. Ugh, I hate that caffeine does this to me! I ate dinner, but I still felt really crappy afterward.

I've been doing my second 45-minute walk after dinner every day (on the treadmill, so I can watch Sweet Magnolias--love it!). Yesterday, I felt great--and I even ran for a little bit! Today, my heart rate was high from the very start and I just couldn't bring myself to do more than walking at 3.5 mph with 0% incline for the entire 45 minutes (usually, this feels very easy to me).

My heart rate was definitely higher than normal and my face felt really flushed. 

The stupid thing is, I do this to myself about once a year! I get the urge to try caffeinated coffee (because people love coffee and the "pick-me-up" sounds wonderful), but then I 100% regret it afterward.

Anyway, I am just going to lie down and either read some of my book or watch a scary movie on this Friday Saturday night. (I had to edit because I originally wrote Friday! See? Quarantine=Groundhog Day. Hahaha! I'll try and write something more interesting tomorrow. Have a great weekend!

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Mental Health Struggles

After several months of having a very stable mood, I've gotten really emotional lately--up and down much more frequently. Usually, a hypomanic state can last for months for me; the same with depression. Lately, however, my mood has been shifting so much--sometimes within a single day.

Sometimes I think I'm hypomanic, feeling fantastic, only to feel legitimately depressed just a day later. I was supposed to see my psychiatrist last month, but with the quarantine, he wasn't seeing patients. So, I have an appointment in a couple of weeks, and I can talk to him about it then.

Even with bipolar medications, it's typical for people with bipolar to have periods of hypomania and depression--just not as severe or as frequent. And that's been accurate for me ever since I was diagnosed and started the meds in 2017.

I haven't been feeling the major extremes of either emotion, but I'm definitely noticing the abnormal ups and downs. Not knowing what kind of mood I'm going to be in, and switching from laughing to crying within a single conversation, is pretty exhausting.

Also, I had my anxiety under control for a long time (still feeling it--it'll never go away completely-- but nothing like I used to). However, the last week or so it has gotten bad again. Today was the worst. My chest felt tight, and I had a horrible lump in my throat (that always happens when I have anxiety). I felt very restless but unproductive at the same time.

I even took some of my anxiety meds that I hate taking because they make me gain weight. (I'm instructed to take them as needed, not as part of a daily regime.) But the anxiety was so bad that I didn't care. (Why does it seem like all mood disorder medications cause weight gain?!)

I'm hoping it's just been a rough patch that will go away soon. Now that the quarantine is slowly being lifted, I have to once again change my daily routine, and I think that might be what is causing the issues with my mood.

On a positive note, I finished hanging the drywall in the garage yesterday! It was such a relief to finally get that done. The whole garage is now insulated and drywalled (including the ceiling). It doesn't look good right now, because I still have to tape and mud all the seams, but I'll take some pictures anyway.

It's amazing how much of a difference the insulation and drywall makes in the overall temperature in the garage. It doesn't feel hot and stuffy in there anymore. I am super excited to get the mudding done so that I can prime and then paint!

I'm planning to start taping and mudding tomorrow. It's super intimidating because there are a LOT of seams! I haven't mudded the seams of a ceiling before, so I hope I'm able to do a good job with it. I'm a pro at doing the seams where the wall meets the ceiling, because I did that around my entire house.

I'll end this post with a super cute photo I took of Joey, Chick, and Duck today. Joey's such a good dog! ;)

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Weight Loss Anxiety: The Monkey On My Back

Oh man, last night's post... haha! I woke up and immediately went to read it because I wondered if it even made any sense. I was deliriously tired and could barely keep my eyes open. I think the lack of sleep finally caught up with me yesterday. I started to write my post and then fell asleep while writing. When I woke up, I was in a total fog.

I really wish that I was able to sleep like a "normal" person. I wake up at roughly the same time every day (6:30-7:30-ish?) no matter what time I go to bed. So the logical reasoning would be to go to bed earlier. But my mind and body are just NOT tired. Reading a book usually helps, but I just can't find one that is pulling me in right now. I need to start a fast-paced thriller.

Anyway, I started to write this post yesterday, but after falling asleep, I knew I couldn't finish it, and I saved it for today...

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Yesterday, I woke up with a sore throat. It wasn't so much "sore" as it just felt like I had a big lump in throat and it was hard to swallow. This happens a lot when I have bad anxiety.

Lately, I've been feeling anxious quite a bit. It's the kind of anxiety that has no rhyme or reason... it just is. It's there all the time, and it's frustrating to try to figure out what is going on. I even shared this video on Facebook to demonstrate what it's like to live with constant anxiety, and while it's hilarious, I think it's pretty accurate! (If you watch with sound on, it's even better)



Watching this video is as close I can get to describing what anxiety feels like!

Anyway, the "monkey on my back" is what's really making my anxiety flare up--and that "monkey", as stupid as it sounds, is my weight.

The higher my weight climbs, the worse my anxiety gets. I may not think of my anxiety being related to my weight, but when all is said and done, I know that it really is. Having a blog that has been known as a "weight loss blog" for nearly a decade feels like I'm a fraud. I can't give advice to the many people that ask me for advice, because I just haven't found the answers yet. And I probably never will!

Here it is, 10 years after losing 120+ pounds, and I still haven't found the answers.

Every day, I wake up thinking that this is the day that I'm going to turn things around (something I remember very well from when I was 250+ pounds) and then sometime during the day, I make the decision to "just start tomorrow". This alone causes me anxiety, because it's something I always used to tell myself!

"Just starting tomorrow" is a fad diet way of thinking. And I don't do fad diets. The only time I was successful at losing the weight was when I made the decision not to do anything I wasn't willing to do for the rest of my life. (Those things may change, but the fact remains that I shouldn't do anything temporarily just to lose weight.)

I have given it a try countless times in the past couple of years to get back on the wagon and eat well and exercise. I may manage for one day, maybe two... a whole WEEK if I'm lucky and well prepared. But that stupid monkey on my back is always there.

I never stop thinking about my weight, and it's SO STUPID--I know that. Logically, the thought of having my weight on my mind all the time is ridiculous! But I just can't help it. After all these years of people noticing and talking about my weight loss, I know that it's obvious I've gained weight. Nobody says anything about it, but they have to be thinking it when they see me.

The photo below is from a recent game night with friends via Skype. I was super self-conscious when seeing them for the first time in forever. Luckily, they are the kind of friends that don't care the slightest bit what my weight is.

I know I sound like a broken record by saying that I want to get back at it; I want to lose the excess weight; I want to feel my BEST again. However, I just can't seem to get my mindset to where it needs to be in order to follow through.

Jerry and I have this inside joke where we say, "Just throw strikes!" when people say things like "Just think positive!" or "Don't worry about it!" Because in watching our kids play baseball through the years, I can't tell you how many times I have heard coaches tell the pitchers to "throw strikes".

Well, DUH--what do you think the pitcher is TRYING to do?! So, when people tell you not to worry about something, it's like telling a pitcher to throw strikes. I'm TRYING not worry about my weight, but it's just that monkey on my back that won't let go.

I've written goals up to my eyeballs, I've planned out my diet and exercise for days, weeks... and I just can't seem to stick with it. I have a case of the "fuck its"--"Oh, fuck it, I'll just start over tomorrow". And even though I can clearly see this, when it comes to following through I fail miserably.

I have this nagging thought in the back of my mind that pops up quite frequently. I know that my weight shouldn't control my life; I know that my weight gain doesn't make me less of a person; I KNOW that I shouldn't care what other people think. But it's a lot easier said than done.

Because my weight loss has been so public, I feel like my weight GAIN is going to be just as public. Most polite people won't say anything about it, but I think it's pretty obvious and hard not to notice. Sometimes I want to mention it just so that they don't think I'm in denial.

I'm really starting to get worried that I'll never find my determination again. I want to be as disciplined as I used to be. I miss that sense of control. Right now, I feel like everything in my life is out of control and it's stressing me out.

I think a big part of it is that everything feels so difficult in the beginning. I've gotten used to eating junk food and skipping the healthier foods I used to eat--my palate has literally changed so that I don't enjoy those healthier foods anymore.

I also used to love to cook and grocery shop. Over the past couple of years, I've gotten to the point where I hate doing both of those things.

Running feels so hard. What used to be a piece of cake (running a 9:00 minute mile) now seems impossible. Running a 12:00 minute mile feels difficult! I honestly don't care about my pace right now--I'm completely over the mentality of "I used to be fast!"--my biggest desire is to run regularly and have the easy runs feel easy again. I want to feel like I'm making progress.

With running feeling so hard right now, it seems overwhelming to get back into a routine.

I'm tired of talking about losing weight and my goals and not really putting into action the plans that I make. So, I've come up with some solutions that may make things easier. I'm not saying I'm committing to these right now, but I'm trying to problem solve a little.

1) I don't HAVE to run. I can always do a walking program to get back in the habit of going out and exercising. It'll feel easier and maybe I'll eventually choose to add some running. That's exactly what happened when I was losing weight in 2009-2010.

In 2010, I think I weighed about 160 in the picture below. Jeanie and I walked the Indy Mini (a half-marathon) together. I trained for it by walking for 12 weeks. Walking is good exercise, and shouldn't be discounted. At the beginning of training, walking five miles felt tough! My feet were killing me. But walking the half-marathon wasn't bad at all--nothing like the previous two years. You can read about them here: 2008, 2009, and 2010.

2) I can make a menu for the week that is very simple to cook. Things that I don't have to spend 20 minutes prepping and use a bunch of dishes and make a mess in the kitchen. Grilled cheese and tomato soup is easy!

3) I can designate Jerry and the kids to each cook one day a week. That way, I'm only cooking for four days instead of seven.

4) I can slowly adjust my palate back to healthier foods. When losing weight in 2009-2010, I was still eating junk food--just smaller portions. I also made a couple of healthier changes (like having grapes instead of chips with my sandwich).

5) Eat at regular intervals--I do best with eating four times a day, four hours apart.

6) I really don't like making lunch, and a lot of times I'll just skip it and then eat way too much at night. So I can start buying frozen meals that I actually enjoy (yes, there are some good ones!) and eat those for lunch. They are simple and I don't have to cook--I can just throw them in the microwave.

7) I can make ahead meals for the slow cooker (and freeze them) so that I can just take it out of the freezer and throw it in the slow cooker and not worry about cooking that day. When our kitchen was torn apart for remodeling, I spent one Sunday prepping TWENTY meals for the slow cooker. We discovered some recipes that we really liked!

8) Drink more water. I know that I am chronically dehydrated and I really dislike the way it makes me feel. The solution is obvious--drink more water! I used to drink three quarts a day out of sheer habit. This should be an easy change to make. Even if I don't change anything else, I think this will be helpful and I'll feel better.

So, those are just some solutions that I think will make me feel better about myself. I think if I do some of theses, I'll get rid of a lot of this anxiety, too. Making positive changes always makes me feel good.

I don't want this post to sound negative--I really don't. I just wanted to write about my anxiety getting worse as my weight goes up. An introspection.

And after writing this, I wonder if it's not just my weight, but my actual lifestyle that causes the increase in anxiety. If I was eating better and exercising, I'm sure my anxiety would decrease dramatically even if my weight doesn't change.

I'm going to think about a couple of changes I can make that will help me to feel better about it. To feel like I'm at least doing SOMETHING. The weight isn't going to lose itself. And how can running get any easier if I'm not putting in the effort to do it? If I don't make any changes, nothing is going to change!

For the next three days, I'm going to have two goals:
1) Drink 2 quarts of water
2) Go for a walk or run on each of the three days (even if it's just a mile)

That's it! If I can't do that, then I have bigger problems than I thought ;)

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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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What is one thing I would change about myself?

First, I am so sorry that FOUR posts published yesterday. I have no idea how that happened. I was revamping some recipes and had them set to publish in the future, but somehow they all published at once. The only post I meant to publish yesterday was the tutorial for the pet feeding station!

Anyway, today is another writing prompt. And I've had a bad day, so I truly am going to keep this short...

What is one thing that I would change about myself?

I thought hard about this, because the obvious answer would be that I wouldn't have anxiety. Having anxiety is the worst! But I wanted to come up with something deeper than that, and I thought more and more about what actually causes my anxiety.

Surprisingly, the one thing I would change about myself (and what gives me so much anxiety) is the fact that I am hyperempathetic. An "empath", I guess it's called. I am extremely aware of what people are feeling and I somehow pull just the negative vibes from them and feel them myself. I found this quote on Pinterest that sums it up perfectly. This is exactly how I feel:

I did not cut off the bottom attribute, but it's jennifersoldner.com

Being empathetic is generally a good thing, but when it causes you to feel this way, it's not. I can remember when I was a child, ALWAYS feeling guilty for everything. Especially for things that happened to other people. Even if nothing "bad" really happened, I felt the guilt for no reason at all.

Sometimes being empathetic is helpful, however. Here is an example that happened to me:

I always noticed a kindergarten mom who would pick her son up from school at the same time I picked up Eli. Even though she smiled and conversed with others, I could feel her emotional pain. She seemed totally normal on the outside, but I knew that something wasn't right. I decided to do something about it, because I was worried about suicide. I gave her a card with something empathetic written on it.

A few years later, she told me that she had been planning her suicide and the card meant the world to her at the time. Someone cared and someone noticed she'd been feeling that way.

This empathy is a gift, in a way, but it's a huge burden as well. I feel responsible for everybody's problems and everybody's pain, even if I have nothing to do with them or it at all. When my family is hurting, I will do anything that I can to make them stop hurting, even if it's not good for myself. If I feel like I've hurt another person's feelings for any reason at all, I'll carry that inside of me until the day I day, unless I can somehow fix it. And I spent WAY too much time worrying about how to fix it.

When I started psychotherapy, my therapist and I talked about all of this and how I need to do things that are best for ME and to start doing what I enjoy and to stop trying to fix things that I know I can't change.

This is why I've been putting so much work into doing things I enjoy--like the DIY house stuff and woodwork. When I'm alone, listening to a podcast and working on a project, I don't have to feel what others are feeling. Carrying the burden of others' feelings along with my own is exhausting! I think this is what causes me to be more introverted, as well. Being around a lot of people is a lot to carry.

Anyway, I really am trying to keep this short today, so I'll end it with this:

In general, I am a good person. I am kind, generous, caring, a good listener, and (for the most part) determined and goal-oriented. I am also extremely empathetic. So, I feel and understand your feelings much more than is comfortable for either of us, but it's important to know that I care. I care more than anything that everybody is okay.

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Thriving Despite Mental Illness: A guest post by my good friend Emily

I am so happy to finally share this story with you. First, a quick story of how I met Emily. Emily was/is a blog reader of mine, and one day a few years ago, I got an email from her asking if I'd like to get together for drinks or something because she was going to be in the general area. I had never spoken or heard a single word from her and knew nothing about her, but I said yes (perhaps I was hypomanic at the time!).

After I accepted her invitation, she emailed me a little about herself. Including the fact that she was bipolar.

I laugh at this now, because I remember thinking when I read that she was bipolar, "Oh no--should I cancel plans? What does this mean? How crazy is she really?" Because all I knew of bipolar was what they show in the movies and on TV.

However, I knew that would be a really crappy reason not to meet up, so I decided to go anyway. And I am so glad that I did! (It was only eight months later that I, myself, was diagnosed with bipolar.)

Emily was SO kind and funny and I couldn't believe how much we had in common. I knew that I wanted us to be friends. Here is a picture of the day we met:

At the time, Emily was the first person I'd ever known that had bipolar disorder. When I was diagnosed, she was the first person I told after Jerry. I was so shocked and unaccepting of the diagnosis at first, but as I came to terms with it, I felt better just talking to Emily and seeing that she was a "normal" person.

I had no idea at the time that I was meeting someone who was going to be a truly fantastic friend. Sometimes I go through periods where I just don't talk to people, because I'm going through episodes of depression or anxiety and I tend to close myself off from the world. But Emily is always my friend who checks in with me--I never have to ask. She's just there, anytime I need her.

Since we are two crazy peas in a crazier pod, I asked her to share her story here. As always, I like to bring awareness to mental illness to help get rid of the stigma surrounding it. (By the way, if anyone else has a story of mental illness--of any sort--that you'd like to share, please send me an email with a your suggestion for submitting a guest post.)

Anyway, here is Emily's "crazy" story, in her own words:

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The psychiatrists say I'm bipolar. I have bipolar 1 and ADHD, inattentive type. And PTSD, but that’s a whole other story. Man--that’s a lot of labels for who I am: a 31-year-old social worker who just celebrated my first wedding anniversary and is loving life as a newlywed in her southwest corner of Michigan.

Loving life is a pretty strong and also quite a general description. Life has its ups and downs, no doubt.

My story began when I was 18 and a freshman in college. My previously “normal” self had turned warp speed. I became hyper-obsessed with boys, and--well, just plain hyper in general. I had far too much energy for anyone my age.

Shit hit the fan, proverbially, when I became obsessed with the idea this outlandish idea that I had Down’s syndrome and that my parents had never told me. I thought that they hid it from me for my entire life, and I was just sorting it out. (This is called a delusion, and is a strong indicator of type 1 bipolar during a manic phase. Delusions are beliefs that are persistently held despite all evidence to the contrary.)

Freshman year of college was not an easy one. And it didn’t get much easier.

After that manic phase, I became severely depressed. It was so bad, I didn’t even read the seventh Harry Potter book right away when it was released; and for those who know how incredible Harry Potter is, that is shows just how bad of a state I was in.

I refused to shower. I refused to go out in public. I refused to do anything but stay in bed. I became a recluse. I almost didn’t go back to college, but in order to keep health insurance to cover my meds, I had to stay a full time student. So back to school I went.

The next three years at undergrad felt like a zombified blur. My meds were too strong. I had a flat affect and no emotion. Granted, I wasn’t manic or depressed. But I really didn’t feel much of anything at all!

And on top of that, the meds caused me to gain 60 pounds in just a few months. So much for the freshman fifteen--I gained the sophomore 60! No one wants that. I’ve battled my weight ever since. Meds, depression, mania, and anxiety are the perfect cocktail for weight fluctuations and struggles. (As you may have noticed from Katie's blog!)

I have always been one who loved school and learning, so when mental health issues became a part of my life and my school work suffered, that was a huge blow. I lost my presidential scholarship and school became so much harder. But I did persevere.

After I graduated, I went on to grad school for my masters in social work. I think a big part of that (besides having an undergrad degree that likely wouldn’t get me a job anywhere) was the idea of wanting to help people who have been through the ringer like myself.

So I worked my way through grad school. By that point my meds were a bit better and I had more “real-life” emotion. But the stigma of the diagnosis of bipolar never left me. I had had the label of bipolar for six years at that point. I had earned my Master of Social Work and I still had not accepted my diagnosis.

So after I graduated, I sought out a second opinion from a different psychiatrist. And I think because I was so stable, or perhaps because she didn’t know me, or for whatever reason--I was “undiagnosed” bipolar. Then I was slowly taken off my meds… and that’s where the story gets interesting.

That was fall of 2012. I thought I was doing well. I was over the moon that I no longer had this heavy burden of bipolar. No longer had to pay $100+ a month on medication and wasn’t tied to this awful stigmatized diagnosis. But yet again, shit hit the fan.

I got a social work job working for the State of Michigan, third shift, answering calls of abuse and neglect for everyone and anyone who might be calling the hotline to report it. It was an extremely emotionally tolling and stressful job, not to mention that it was the third shift. (It's important to note that regular sleep patterns are crucial for controlling bipolar.)

I stopped sleeping. Stopped eating. And eventually, mania set back in. I didn’t realize it, but my friends certainly did. It really hit me when my boyfriend at the time was taking me home and the pillars of a local building next to my apartment complex appeared to be Nazi soldiers. And I said to him, “Those pillars look like soldiers, but I know they aren’t… right?”

My friends and family were godsends. I had a couple of friends from college who came over one night and told me that if I did not go to a psych hospital, they were going to have me committed. Let me tell you--I was furious. I was beyond mad.

I was an adult! I was a social worker! I knew myself better than that! I eventually called my counselor back home and she talked me through the decision and I went to the hospital “just for the evaluation.” I was immediately admitted.

I stayed at the psych hospital for one week. What an experience. I was first put in the more “crazy” wing. I had a female roommate around my age and when I was introduced to her, the first thing she said to me was “I’m a sex addict.” I knew I was in for a treat. She was actually just as “normal” as I was. Everyone there was just dealing with their own shit in their own beautifully crazy way.

Because of my lack of eating from the stress and poor sleep schedule, they thought I had an eating disorder. But no way, Jose. The food there was incredible. So fattening and such homemade goodness! And they always had such good desserts and man alive. Maybe I was just starved and it only tasted good in my memories. But I can’t change my memories. It was good food.

It felt a little like camp. There were group sessions and there was gym and art and outside time when the weather was nice.

I remember being in group one time and thinking that I needed to be excused to go to the bathroom. This was a pivotal moment for me… It was one of the first times I realized that I was an adult now. I didn’t need permission to go to the bathroom. I could just up and leave. I remember that moment quite vividly. It was pretty freeing. I don’t know why that sticks out so vividly.

There were some interesting people there, too. One guy, only a handful of years older than me, was married and he and his wife had several kids. He had tattoos all over his body. Both he and his wife had mental health issues. He told me his wife also had bipolar and she was in the psych ward during her whole pregnancy. Each and every one. That made me nervous. It still does, to be quite honest. I don’t have any kids, but I would like to someday.

One guy was a pastor who needed respite. He was depressed from listening to everyone else’s problems and issues. That was interesting to me; also a bit sad in a way. Perhaps he might need some coaching on how to help people with their burdens if it is driving him to such severe depression to help other people.

Anyway, I was there for seven days. Re-diagnosed with bipolar. Put on a new cocktail of medicine and eventually released. I then had 7 days of outpatient therapy where I came to the facility every morning for more classes but then got to go home at around three in the afternoon. I love classes and learning, so I enjoyed that too.

I lost my job through this whole experience. I hadn’t been there long enough to be gone from work that long. They were going to fire me, but I quit so that I wouldn’t have that in my work history. I think I would have quit eventually anyway, but it was just such a stressful time.

About a week after being released from the hospital, however, my boyfriend of about two years--the love of my life at the time, whom I thought was going to be my husband some day--ended things. Just broke it off. With no real reason. He blamed God actually. Perfect timing, right? Ha. So that brought me from a delightful manic phase to an awful depressive phase… and the shit just kept hitting the fan.

So, needless to say, about a month later, I was back at the psych ward because I was extremely depressed and suicidal. This time, I knew I needed to be there and I drove myself in. The experience was relatively the same. I wasn’t put on the “crazy” wing at all that time. I was put on the less crazy, girls’ only wing. Perhaps they view depression as less difficult to manage than mania. I’m not really sure.

I was there another seven days of inpatient, and followed up with another week of outpatient as well. When I was released from those, the depression didn’t seem to lift. I returned to life in my studio apartment in a large downtown area of Michigan and basically stayed on my couch binge-watching Netflix. It was not good.

I had to force myself to leave my house on occasion. I began looking for jobs. I would get a job, and eventually be fired because my brain wasn’t working well enough to perform anywhere or at anything. I worked for a while as a receptionist at a tech company. Got fired from there. I worked part-time as a social worker for a company and lost that job too. It was not a good season of my life.

Eventually I moved back home with my parents. I just could not cope with life without people around me and supporting me. All my life I thought I was this extreme introvert, but during this time, I realized how much I needed people in my life to love, support, and encourage me. Moving back with my parents was super hard and a very humbling choice, but it was the best thing for me. I eventually started working at a bagel shop and started to regain footing on life again. Well, sorta...

Slowly, but surely, color came back into my world. I got hired as an actual social worker for a job that I still hold today, a job that I love. I met, started dating, and am now recently married to a wonderful man who puts up with my crazy.

Yes. I am still crazy.

But... I have begun to embrace the crazy. I thank Katie for that. I had always been ashamed of bipolar and the word crazy. But it’s a part of me and my story and what makes me me.

There are good things to bipolar. Don’t worry--when I’m in the depths of despair, I Google it to remind myself… haha.

I’m more creative, empathetic, tenacious. But there are some very dark times. John (my husband) can attest to that. I have what I call spirals. My negative self-talk is through the roof and the spirals that get instigated by the negative self-talk are pretty incredible. And not in a good way. I definitely still have mood swings.

Mostly I deal with depression and anxiety, a little less mania. And the focus issue has been hard lately. Work has become a struggle related to my inability to focus. There’s still proverbial shit that hits the fan. But I have good days too. Most days are good.

Life has its ups and downs. But without the ups and downs, life would be pretty bland. And crazy is the perfect spice of life, right?

You can read more about Emily's adventures (and she has a lot of interesting ones!) on her blog, EmilyAlma.com.

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