When I realized I’m no longer a regular girl, I’m a fangirl.

I’d like to preface this by saying that I use the term “fangirl” loosely because I’m almost a month shy of being 40. But to use the term “fanwoman” just makes me sound like an extra in a Roman bathhouse film.

Three years ago a good friend of mine, Nicolle, who also loves Supernatural (probably more than me) told me a funny thing. She told me the show had conventions. I thought Star Trek was the only convention in the world (at this point in my life). So once I was privy to this knowledge I knew I had to see this for myself!

My first con (NJCon 2013) was pretty low key. We were there for the three days, she was Gold, but I didn’t really know anything about this and it was kind of last minute so I didn’t have any tickets at all. But, I went to karaoke on Friday and some other friends of Nicolle’s came along as well and we had a few really funny things happen with us and Rick Worthy which set the tone for a pretty hilarious weekend. Saturday I just hung out and people watched which I loved, while Nicolle was all over the place doing all the things and being so happy. Then Sunday came and I was gifted general admission – and if you ask my friend Nicolle – Sunday is the day you go to the con for. It’s Jensen and Jared day!

A few months before I met Nicolle I had binge watched all the seasons (at the time there were 6) on Netflix and I was already in love. I did watch the first episode when it aired and it scared the bejesus out of me, so I only watched it sporadically before I got Netflix and got the courage to watch the whole thing. So at this point I was definitely digging this scene, but I wasn’t really part of it.

That was until the J2M photo op. She said “why don’t you do this picture with me?” “Sure, fine, no big deal.” Right? Uh, understatement…

Did I mention I was a huge Cas fan and a Dean girl, but at the time I was all about Cas.

So, we got to the room and I was mesmerized – there they were a few feet from me and so beautiful. I mean I knew that they were good looking from watching the show, but they are not done justice until you see them in person, and they are kind and friendly to boot! Standing in that line, looking at them suddenly I forget how to be a human. I stood there wide-eyed, silent, a little sweaty and super nervous. People got their pictures taken so quickly, it was three seconds and done. I stood there thinking to myself “That’s nothing! It’s so fast, what’s the point?” Then it was our turn – my brain literally shut off and I bee-lined for Jensen and Misha and squeaked out “HUGS, I WANT HUG” – I’d gone Neanderthal. There I was awkwardly sandwiched between Misha and Jensen, my arms seemingly detached from my body somehow managed to find their way around both of their waists and Misha puts his face to mine. The silent click of the camera and the moving process began and Misha sweetly whispered in my ear “Thank you”.

I died.

I was a happy, giddy, giggly pile of goo as we grabbed our things and went out of the room. I’m not a blusher, but I swear I felt like I turned twelve shades of purple. And I believe I looked at Nicolle and maybe said “I get it, I do”. And from then on I was in it. There was no going back.

Cut to next year (NJCon 2014) I decided that I was going to do a solo op with Misha – I wanted to relive that magic all over again, but this time I’d be cool.

I put on my pretty dress and made-up my face; made sure my hair was perfect. I went through the line, alone, watching him with wide eyes and a shit eating grin and as I got closer and closer I said to myself this time I’m going to say so many things and be so cool. Then, I’m one person away and MY BRAIN SHUT OFF, again.

It was my turn and I looked at him intently and my mushy brain said to yell out (in an angry creepy hybrid) “HUG ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT!” No, “hi”, no “what’s up”, no “let me explain how much awesome you are and this really cool awesome pose I want to do” coolly, calmly and not like I was going to murder him in his sleep. Next thing I know he grabs me and pulls me to him so hard and fast I lost breath; I couldn’t even believe that just happened, HE GRABBED ME AND HELD ME TO HIS BODY. And three seconds later it was done. I walked away like I just got roofied, flying high above the clouds. Then as my brain de-anesthetized to the regular world outside of his arms I shuddered and thought to myself “god I was so fucking creepy right there”, then the embarrassment coursed through my body along with the feeling of turning twelve shades of purple. But dammit those three seconds…ok, HE GRABBED ME. Creepy be damned, that moment was just for me – that took everything crappy in my life and made it disappear. My loneliness, my depression, my thoughts of all my life’s failures disappeared. I was special. I was touched. I was a freaking rock star in the arms of Misha Collins for three seconds and I felt like a god.

I rode that high pretty much up until this year. But this year was going to be different – come on we’ve had three encounters (more on the third later), I’m going to be so totally cool he’s not going to know what hit him…

I was so not cool guys.

If I had had an out of body experience and was forced to watch what transpired during my fourth interaction with Misha I would’ve hidden myself under a table and cried or tried to go back in time and smack myself in the face and say “get it together man, stop being such an awkward dork!!”.

First of all, I literally couldn’t look at him. I walked up to him turned to the camera, sighed (like this was a chore) and said “Ok I have to explain this…can you put your arm around me from behind and put your cheek to my cheek?” Like a weird nerdy robot. At least I think that’s what I said, maybe not that eloquent, definitely that awkward, but he did it and it was awesome, but again I left thinking WHY CAN I NOT BE COOL WITH HIM EVER?!

At least I wasn’t creepy.

P.S. after Misha I had a photo op with Rob and that was super fun I was seriously the coolest. I was watching him from the line thinking man he’s little. I totally thought I was taller than him and I wondered how awkward that was going to be. So I get up to him and look at him and say “I thought I’d be taller than you, I’m not” and he laughs and says “thanks for the compliment?” so we hug and I’m on my way, but then I’m stopped. My glasses full on glared and I had to go back around to the front of the line and retake. Oh boo. 😛 So I got up to him again and said “hi again” and he was like “what happened?” “My glasses glared.” “Oh, yeah that happens.” And we tried to do the same pose, but it didn’t come out as good as old glary eyes, but at least I got both. And Rob is the cutest most awesome.

 

 

So Sunday, was the boys day, also known as Rex Manning Day. (On a side note, my back gave out on me Friday night – I was pretty much in excruciating overwhelmingly whiny pain all weekend. I could blame that on my awkwardness with Misha, but seriously after four times an awkward dork, I have no excuses it’s just me.) So Sunday came and this is day that Nicolle loses her shit. She just gets uber excited and is no longer allowed to comprehend rational thought, real life problems or anything more than her laser focus on seeing Jensen.  So the night before I had prayed to Castiel (no seriously, I legit did) and asked him to let my back be ok just for Sunday and I shit you not while waiting for the longest breakfast making ever I felt better! It was a Jensen day miracle! With a little help from my favorite angel!

So, I had my first ever solo op with Jensen and Jared. Dude, Jensen intimidated me hardcore. I was thinking god, if I can’t talk to Misha I don’t know what I’m going to do with Jensen. I imagined I’d just lose all ability to speak and/or move and possibly begin to drool.

Ya’ll…I was so cool.

After watching the unbelievably amazing picture my friend Nicolle just took with him I was like “ok I’m just going to be cool, I can totally do this.” So I walked up to him and said “Hi, how are you?” he said “Good”, I said “Can I just get a hug?” he said “Yeah” in his voice – that voice!!! And he hugged me and the picture was taken. I then look up, into his eyes (he’s still smiling) and say thank you and he says thank you and I either touched him or he touched me it’s all a blur, but there was extraneous touching after the photo and I can’t complain! So, I was on my way…

Then, my brain shut off, as usual.

I found my friend Nicolle and we proceeded to squeal like tweens for about five minutes, my voice went about three octaves higher than it’s ever been and I couldn’t stop it. I was shaking, SHAKING!

Besides last year’s Misha grabbing me like he pretended he meant it so I wouldn’t stab him in the face because I was a creeper – this was one of the most viscerally elated reactions I’ve ever had to a photo op.

Something about Jensen, amiright?

Then I had my Jared op and I knew all along I wasn’t going to have a problem with Jared, he’s a big goof and I knew I’d at least be cool with him. Omg, we’re totally best friends now.

I went up to him:

Me: “Hi, hey where’s your hat, can you wear your hat?” (Don’t boo me, but I love him in his hat as opposed to his wild loose long hair)

Jared: “Oh sorry, I left it backstage.” He says with genuine emotion.

Me: “That’s totally fine. So, I hear you give the best hugs ever.” Then I opened my arms and gestured in my best ‘come at me bro’ stance and said “Give it to me”

Jared laughing at my proclamation then mimics my pose and says “Come on in girl”

(We did this for about a few seconds – a come at me bro off if you will) Then I went in for the smush. I looked at the camera and I saw Chris coming up to me scolding me for the second time this weekend that my glasses are glary, so he said he’s going to take my glasses and hold onto them. I’m still smushed on Jared by the way for all of this. Then we pose and it’s great and before I left I said “You really are the best hugger” to which he laughed and said “Thank you.”

SQUEE.

This was totally awesome no lie and I loved how we were best friends, but I was not as ridic when I left him as I was with Jensen. There was no shaking, no high pitched vibrato, but that was a really special moment for me regardless.

So now, having had all my solo boy photo ops I just had one more chance to win them over in what my friend and I have lovingly come to dub our “SPN family photo” – ever since the first time I was able to take a picture with the three boys with my friend and became a convert we’ve made it a tradition to do it every year.

Last year I fucked it up, for the second time.

We just couldn’t make a decision on what to do since my first year (first year mind you, totally green and clueless) I totally took the reins and separated Jensen and Misha from Nicolle and Jared and it ended up looking like a really weird, but cute Christmas card – honestly it could’ve easily been two separate photos.

So we were going back and forth between group smush or something different, but I was on the fence for the smush (I know, what was I thinking?). I was like come on everybody does that, let’s be different. So seconds before it was our turn we decided on “Awkward Family Photo”.

Sidebar: all weekend I had been sitting behind a terrible mother and son duo from hell who had the loudest most awful Bostonian accents (she yelled and got into fights with multiple people during the weekend, always around me, but I wasn’t involved) so of course I was complaining and mimicking her all weekend.

So when we get up to the boys – and I (because Misha is there) forgot how to be a normal person yell out “LET’S BE AWKWARD” in a similar voice to Jerry Lewis (for all you youngins, google him, you’ll get a laugh) and well…the boys do take notes splendidly and it was really fracking awkward.

So Nicolle said that I was not allowed to talk this year at all. (insert sad face)

It was tough keeping my mouth shut this time since I just had two out of the three interactions with them being so cool and best friend like, but when Misha is involved I lose all composure to say the least. So, I kept my mouth shut mostly, but my awkward proudly displayed. As we got up to the boys I waved like a ridiculous child seeing Santa as Nicolle described our pose and I compulsorily squeak out “HUG” at Misha, and he said “YES!” but…despite that small moment of dorkdom we got an amazingly perfect family photo this year.

And that was my last three years of dorking out at the conventions!

Four years ago I was a regular girl. I’m pretty much a boring socially awkward extroverted introvert spinster on the cusp of 40 who is pathetically content with my mundane life; until I was brought into the Supernatural Fandom. Everyone there is similar to me, everyone there is looking for a place to be themselves and not be judged, to be supported by people with common interests, struggles, fears, likes and love of this show.

Regular people don’t understand this. Regular people think I’m a little crazy, a little weird and wonder why I spend money to do this.

It’s simple, in my boring adult mundane life this is my happy place. When someone tells you to go to your happy place you usually only get to go to the place you’ve fabricated in your mind. I get to actually go to my happy place and that is my real life for 72 hours once a year. I can see it, feel it, touch it and it invites me in with hugs and makes me feel safe. I can honestly say that in my life I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than my moments with my first Misha and my recent Jensen photo ops. Its three seconds of bliss that makes my world enormous and puts all my crap in the back of the room. You can call me pathetic, but I just don’t give a fuck.

And if regular people can’t understand that, I’m very proud that I’m no longer a regular person – I’m glad to be a fangirl.

My Struggles…

I was once told that “if you think you’re depressed, you’re probably not depressed”.

What a crock of shit, right? I know I’m depressed, I’ve suffered with depression most of my life, it was only a few years ago that I realized what it was – and I was finally willing to get help for it.  I started taking medication instead of going to a therapist because I thought that just talking wouldn’t do anything and at the time I desperately needed to do something. Drugs seemed to be the lesser of two evils at the time.  I was on increasing doses of anti-depressants for about 3 years, until they just didn’t work anymore. I’m not only depressed…

I have depression – severe at times to the point where I do not want to get out of bed, ever. But being that I’m alone and forced to fend for myself I’ve not been able to not get out of bed, so I thought I was functional. I wasn’t.  Along with depression, I have delusions, paranoia, warped sense of being and thinking, low self-esteem and pretty bad social anxiety. I am also apt to being a recluse, my introverted self wins out a lot.  I know for people that meet me don’t think I’m shy or introverted – I’m lying. I have to act this way to function as an adult – I have to be able to talk to people at work or if I want to keep friends or even dare, make friends. I need to seem like I am normal.  It’s only later that everyone finds out I’m a big fat mess.  You may think, if I can pretend so well (do I really?), why not just be that way? Because while I’m smiling and talking and being social on the outside, inside my head I’m screaming for it to be over and it’s no reflection on the company – it’s all me being uncomfortable.

I am not bi-polar, I never have an up or high, I’m always sad.  I am also predominantly apathetic, I rarely feel joy or excitement, it’s either apathy or debilitating sadness no matter how much I want to be happy.  I know I should be happy in situations (like all through my weight loss), but I wasn’t, I didn’t feel anything, that’s a problem.  I also suffer from seasonal affective disorder, and as a depressed person to begin with I get it pretty severely.

People who aren’t depressed, or at least don’t admit that they are, do not understand any of this.  They don’t understand why you can’t just stop. And believe me, I’ve tried to stop – it’s logical. I’ve been off medication and in therapy for over a year now, and I have come leaps and bounds from where I was a year ago. Maybe eventually I’ll have to do both. But this is a constant struggle, it never ends. You take 2 steps forward, then something triggers and you take 10 steps back. Vicious. Cycle. I struggle every single day to fight against my automatic responses. I fight every day to be better than the day before, and life knocks me around pretty hard, pretty often – almost constantly. I’ve had so many disappointments this year that it’s overshadowed so much of the good that’s happened. The sadness overtakes me and blankets me in chokehold I can’t break free of.

Remember when I was on my quest for Onderland? It all fell apart. I had a severe bout of depression beginning in October of last year followed by an unbearable winter, crippling driving anxiety, lack of motivation, and I lost my drive. I had some really terrible shit happen the beginning of this year – lost some really important relationships I didn’t anticipate to (mostly due to my depression – and the inability to stay functional), and it all fell apart.  I can lie and pretend that it doesn’t still affect me – but it does, in a way that is hard to get past, can’t get out of my head.

However, I’ll tell you what I didn’t do. Thanks to therapy – I didn’t have another full-on, all-consuming mental breakdown.  I was really sad, that never stops – but I didn’t crawl into a little ball in the corner of my room and cry for a week straight. I keep going, keep living, keep fighting on significantly lower cylinders, but I try. I have to realize that not everyone can handle my illness – hell I can’t even handle it sometimes, but I just have to be ok with knowing that people find me off-putting, or selfish, or crazy, or over-emotional or an asshole because I suffer from this disease and it would rather be looked at as an excuse than an actual illness.  I get it, I do – I’m just lazy and I make excuses, I also deal with the demons in my head that nag at me at all days, minutes, hours, seconds, years, always – and yeah sometimes I give in.  And some can say that every human has these demons, but they don’t let it get them down. Hey, good for you, that must be awesome, what’s that like?

 

When I get into my ‘funks’ I do everything wrong. I lack focus on the good and only regress to the bad. Why do I do that? It’s my comfort zone – it’s where I live, it’s where I think I belong and it’s how I cope with all the sadness.  Is that right? NO, it’s the worst thing I can do – but with the sadness come the exhaustion and the desire to do yet another thing that’s really hard is nearly void. Everything is hard, every thing is so hard – and guess what, I get to do it completely alone. If I had help, maybe things would be less hard, but I don’t have help, so giving up the hard things makes one less thing hard I have to do, but this is completely counterproductive. See – vicious cycle.

 

And believe me, whatever you think of me, I think of me, but  like 1,000 times worse than you can ever imagine.  And yeah I wanted to give up a million times, but where I’m crazy in one way, I’m crazy in this way – I always have HOPE.  Hope that one day, somehow, some way, it will get better.  I can now see that it can get better; it can’t go away, but it can be better and I’m working to make it be better longer. And I have to let go of anyone who doesn’t want to deal with me good or bad during this never-ending journey and I have to be ok with that. I have to accept that and come to terms with it.  I have to understand things from their point of view and no longer feel angry. Doesn’t mean that when I see something I’d talk to them about, or I have a dream of when things were good that I’m not going to get upset again – I will, and I’ll deal. Alone.

This rant is in respect to the year anniversary of losing Robin Williams, nobody could’ve imagined that this guy suffered as bad as he did, he suffered in silence, he smiled through his pain, but didn’t have the support he needed and he lost his fight.  I don’t want to lose this fight – I’ll keep hope and always keep fighting!!

Don’t be afraid to talk about it, even if most people can’t understand how you feel.  I don’t understand how you feel as you don’t understand how I feel, but I sympathize with you because I suffer too. I get it. And not everyone does, but it doesn’t mean that you’re not suffering. Find those who get it and talk to them – finding empathy helps you fight, knowing that you are not alone – and believe me you are not – helps you fight, getting professional help – helps you fight, knowing that this is a REAL illness and not just you being selfish, lazy, full of excuses, etc. – helps you fight. ALWAYS KEEP FIGHTING! I’m going to be fighting with you – every motherf*cking day!

The Stigma of Being a Spinster

Spinster: Old unmarried woman. Not necessarily a virgin. {Courtesy of Urban Dictionary}

Back in my 20’s and early 30’s everyone was like “you’re so lucky to be single and childless”.  Now that I’m on the horizon of 40, still single and childless, I’m suddenly a failure at life.

I am a spinster or “Old Maid” as it was called in the old timey card game I played as a kid. I figured that would be my scarlet letter from way back so as the time passed still single ad infinitum I started collecting cats and made peace with it.  I made peace with it. Society on the other hand…

It seems that someone bereft of child has no responsibility, schedule, shortage of free time and is supposed to make sacrifices and compromise with those who have bred (I call them breeders – no disrespect, just fact).  I mean what else am I doing, right? So it’s not bad enough I’m single, but because I don’t have children either (the two legged kind) I’m looked at as a lesser person. How does this happen? We have become a society where we are raising armies of socially awkward introverts who’d rather have their noses in a phone than speak to anyone face to face.  How is not being a parent still looked at as a sin punishable by public shaming?

What single girl out there has not heard any of The Questions…?

“Why don’t you want kids?” – Because I’m too old and unendingly single.

“You can’t have kids?” – I’m not sure, I haven’t tried

“Haven’t you ever wanted kids?” – Not by myself, no

“What if you meet the right guy?” – Still not getting any younger, so he’s going to have to be ok without kids.

“What’s wrong with you?” – Your face. 

These infernal questions asked by your married friends, strangers you meet on the street, older adults, co-workers, etc. are invasive personal questions that are socially acceptable; my unfertilized uterus on the other hand is as offensive as flashing ankles in the Victorian Era.

I know lots of women are procreating and delivering to full term well into their 40’s, but being that I assumed kids were off the table for me most of my life I lived my life as hard as I could. Minus hard drugs, but I smoked, drank, tanned, ate like shit, carried at least 100+ pounds over the allotted body limit most of my life (which parenthetically lead to my unwavering singledom). Of course while I was living that way kids never even came into my thought process – I was in my 20s!

Now cut to the older, ‘wiser’ me who has lupus and kidney disease – let’s not forget to mention I’ve never gotten pregnant before, so who knows if I even can. There comes a point where I need to believe, even if I met the perfect man tomorrow and he said let’s get married and have a family, I shouldn’t have a baby.  I did briefly think about surrogating because I am curious about the act of childbirth and pregnancy – but still I feel I’ve missed out on that as well.  I’ve also missed out on freezing my eggs, why didn’t I do that, if only for the money!?

The one draw for me to have a child would be to have something that is 100% (or at least 50%) blood related to me.  I was adopted as an infant, so I have no knowledge of blood relatives, so that would be nice to have something that is part of me, but is that a good enough reason, or is that just my narcissistic tendencies again? I love kids, most of them, well some – ok a small select few.  I swear I’m not dead inside. Babies are cute and I’m good with them, I can put them to sleep super-fast. Toddlers are awesome because they can’t say things correctly and everything comes out hysterical, tweens and teenagers are the literal worst, but then they grow up to be awesome adults who will analyze everything I did to raise them and most likely hate me for it. I am selfish I guess, I like to sleep whenever I want, come and go as I please, pay my bills mostly on time and eat warm food.

I spent a lot of my younger life having people have to take care of me, I knew early on I was incapable of taking care of another human being – four legged fuzz buckets yeah I got that down –  but humans require so much more. People wonder if I get lonely – sure I do, but could people who have a house full of people sit there and tell me they don’t get lonely too? Do they secretly envy my choice and therefore are lashing out at my decisions? Do they really think that their life has more meaning than mine? No, I don’t have kids to take care of me when I get sick or when I die.  I do have cats who will most likely dispose of my carcass orally for survival because it will take a few weeks for my death to be noticed; so there’s that convenience for ya.

I may sound like a bitter single person. And I am a bitter single person about being single, but I do not regret my decision to not have children. I know that I and the world is better off without little Allison’s or “insert name here” running around (because let’s face it I don’t have the best track record with guys).  So if I don’t feel bad about it, why is it such a shame to society? Why must I be discounted and looked down upon or made to feel bad about it by complete strangers? Or even by people I know!

My family has given up on asking what’s going on with my personal life.  They just know that I’ll be alone forever and like me, they’ve accepted it and it’s just something we don’t speak about. Not to mention, on more than one occasion this very week I’ve heard of other single friends of my age group being shunned for being single. So it’s not just me.

Why is being a married mother still the way to win at life? Men in the same position are bachelors and nobody cares whether they’ve mated or spawned (perhaps they even get hi-fives from their friends for avoiding that fate worse than death), but they are not shamed for that (except by their mothers). So why is there so much lady on lady double standard shaming here?  Break the old timey way of thinking ladies – we are strong, independent and capable of living on our own without a partner or a child! Maybe you need a pet or some plants (me and plants don’t really work – how is keeping plants alive harder than cats I’ll never understand) – do whatever you want! That’s called FREEDOM.

To the haters out there – just mind your own first and foremost. Unless the topic is broached don’t ask invasive questions, if you’re talking to or know someone your age or older who is unmarried and childless understand and sympathize that it means she made a different choice than you or had to make a different choice – not the wrong choice and not the better choice, just a different choice,  so back off. Your breeder life is not perfect I’m sure! Let’s all just celebrate our empowerment and the lives we live any which we way we damn so choose! Stop the single shaming and the stigma once and for all!

I’m ready to get back into the dating pool – but I lost my swimmies

One of the biggest struggles I’ve had in my obese life is my unwavering spinsterdom. Since I’m pretty much brutally honest and open about myself in my posts I’m going to let you in on a not- so-secret secret. I’ve never been in a relationship. Like ever.  Unless you count that year I supposedly dated a guy, but really I was his daughter’s Nanny – except I didn’t get paid and I had to financially support him sometimes.

Yeah.

I’ve had flings a plenty (probably not as plenty as you may think), but I’ve had some flings. But I’ve never had that big love. Or even have someone really like me back.

I blamed my weight.  I also blamed my debilitating fear of socializing with the opposite sex because I was defensive about my weight. And recently I came to the harsh realization that I have total “resting bitch face” when I’m in my natural state – which I am in about 90% of the time. But it all comes back to my lack of or nonexistent confidence and self-esteem.

Resting Bitch Face

Not that I’m a total egomaniac now or I’ve found my groove for the first time ever and I’m reeking with total confidence, but I feel ok about myself right now. I’ve never felt ok with myself. On the Allison scale of how I judge things and feelings it goes something like this:

Oh, Fuck No!

Meh a/o Eh

Ok – OK

Seriously?!

AMAZEBALLS!!! {A.K.A. Unicorn Level}

So I’m at Ok which on a regular scale is “neither agrees nor disagrees” – but still much better than ever before. So I think it may be time to revisit the idea of the IDEA of dating.

However, it’s not like (and I kind of knew this would happen) now that I’ve lost a noticeable amount of weight men are falling out of the sky wanting to date me. So I still have to work at it. And I think that’s why I’ve put it off for so long.

Online dating is the devil. Especially for girls like me; girls like me as in “plus” size who are brutally honest because I have absolutely nothing to lose.

Pre weight-loss I got the fetish guys and the guys that would pretty much have relations with anything; they didn’t want to get to know me at all. They assumed that I would always be DTF because they were blessing me with that chance. Then when I lost the weight I got the same guys! Not so much the fetish, but the guy that says (based on a real life conversation):

Guy: Wow, congratulations on the weight-loss, that’s so great that you done that for your health and body. So what have you noticed is different since your lost weight?  (Grammar errors true to conversation)

Me (being witty): Oh I actually have a top 5 things list: 1. I can walk up stairs w/out passing out 2. I can see my feet 3. I can fit comfortably in an airplane seat 4. I can get my luggage from under said airplane seat and 5. My arms can now rest comfortably at my sides. (Haha, so cute right?)

Guy(Immediately after my response): What about sex?

Me: *silence*…………………………………………

Yep, I was done, that was the final straw – just so you don’t think I’m hasty I’ve been online for a decade and I’ve had a barn full of straw. I deleted my profile and haven’t been back since. I think that was back in December of last year.

*Sigh*

It seems all I’m good at is falling for immature, emotionally stunted, possibly closeted gay, unavailable (as in married) and (a small possibility I could’ve birthed) young guys. In my defense the young guys always make contact with me first and we’re talking mid-to-late 20s I’m not Mary Kay Letourneau or anything. Then I become enthralled and get rejected, repeatedly – even by the self-proclaimed reclusive mamma’s boys.  My bad luck jackpot!

So what do I do now that I’m at Ok, I’m ready to get out there and on-line dating is NOT an option?  I want to finally meet a guy I can have a healthy, reciprocal, functional adult relationship with. Is that too tall an order? Does that exist? It seems to for everyone except me.

I don’t want to make excuses such as “those meet up groups seem to be just really old dudes” or “I don’t really want to hang out at paintball every weekend” or “do I really need to be a greeter at Home Depot?”, or “how much beer  and hot wings can one human girl consume in a 48 hour period?”

But seriously where do you meet other humans? Where is my random meet up in the grocery store, or where is my friend set – up blind date (that’s never happened for me), or where’s my rom com random elevator guy in my office building romance?

Life is not a movie – so how in the wide world of sports do I meet a nice guy? He doesn’t need to be a model, he doesn’t need to be a rich man (long-term employment would be helpful, though), he shouldn’t be “married” or “separated” or “it’s complicated” and I’d most like him to actually find me attractive. That would be nice, and different.

But as far as finding this magical warlock of a man I’m hitting brick walls. I’ve met some really nice guys in my life and they were either taken, gay, or not interested. There are really no other options there. So a) how do I find an honest to goodness single guy and b) how to get him interested?  I’ve never been a Cosmo girl or read up on the 12 ways to find a sex slave, that’s not what I want. I just want to be seen as a woman. Possibly an attractive woman.  I’ve got a lot to offer – I’m funny, smart (mostly street) but with a killer vocabulary (thanks thesaurus), I’ve gotten a better shape to my body, I’ve been told I have a pretty face and killer legs, I’m habitually loyal, considerate, understanding and I have so much caring in me I need to get it out!!!

So why am I still single? I don’t want to be alone forever! I’d just like to find a companion to fill in the spaces of my free time – not an impossible request right?

I’d like to ask the peanut gallery…besides on-line where could one in her mid-life find a decent, single, age and emotionally appropriate mate. Suggestions are encouraged and welcome!

The Wealth of Age – And Finding a Good Therapist

As I’m inching around the corner to the dreaded 4-0 it seems that all I’ve had time to do lately is reflect, remember, ponder and analyze my life thus far. It seems the older I get the more exhausting and harder it becomes to do all of these things – my memory has not always been the best.

In your 20’s you just live your life finally free from the chains of rules, expectations and responsibility lectured via the parental units. At least when I was 20, I know a large amount of 20 year olds today who still live with their parents and will be well into their 30s. But, I digress.

My 20’s were rife with abundant mistakes, fun regrets, not so fun regrets, black-outs, trying not to break the seal, really terrible waitress jobs and the formidable chore of attempting to figure out who I wanted to be. I learned how to drink my weight in beer, how to avoid going to class hung-over (by not going), and which one of my friends were the best at the BOOT N’ RALLY.  I had heartbreaking crushes, I met friends that I would have for life – even if we don’t talk or see each other that much.  I had a hardcore addiction to tanning, Mountain Dew, smoking Marlboro Menthol Regulars, and fast food.

My 30’s where pretty much the same, but on a more alarming scale, minus the Mountain Dew – I gave up soda to be more healthy (now I see the irony). Not to mention that also in my 30’s I had to try to dig myself out of the hole I put myself into in my 20’s. Well done Allison, well done. 

Now, in the last 7 months of my 30’s I’m recollecting my life in a series of revelations. For the past year and 3 months I’ve been trying to pick up the pieces of my life that before this journey I really didn’t care too much for; at least not enough to actually take care of myself.

I’ve been encapsulated in emotional imbalance caused by my childhood ordeals, low self-esteem, being an introverted extrovert (yes, it’s a thing) and my blatant ignorance. I’m not unintelligent, I have both book and street smarts, but in the ways of being a high-functioning healthy and emotionally sound adult I feel as if I never left puberty.

I’ve battled with depression, anxiety (that’s kind of new), paranoia, self-loathing and an elusive apathetic demeanor for longer than I care to admit. It wasn’t until I was at the dawn of my mid-30’s that it finally got so bad that I HAD to bite the bullet and do something about it.

I went to my primary care doctor and got a prescription for antidepressants. My antidepressant and I had a blissful 6 year run up until the moment when it turned on me. I had to keep upping the dosage and it would only work a little bit, and the vicious cycle continued until it just didn’t work anymore. I quietly ended my rocky relationship with my antidepressant in early 2014, without discussion with my doctor.

Was I better off? O.M.G. no, I got worse. I was beside myself; I didn’t know what to do. All of my friends were telling me to go to a therapist…go to a therapist. And I would stubbornly retort – how is talking to some stranger going to stop what is happening inside my brain? If the drugs – which I didn’t even want to be on in the first place (it took my first full on mental breakdown and an ultimatum to go on) didn’t work, then how was just talking?

Realistically I should’ve been in therapy and on an antidepressant drug since my 20’s, but I obstinately refused to admit that. I proclaimed I could beat it on my own with suppression and denial! Suppression was a good tactic where I would be fine for a couple of months and then confine myself to my room for a week with non-stop crying. Then I’d run out of moisture in my body and shove it back down and deny it ever happened. Totally healthy, no?

I was convinced people were against me, like always. I questioned every relationship with friend or family member (god knows I was incapable of a romantic entanglement, but that’s a whole other post all together) and wondered why people were even my friend. Whilst trying to convince myself I was totally awesome.

Because this is me I’m talking about it’s almost comical to relive this. I’m pretty certain all those that had to deal with me are probably not laughing.  Some of which no longer talk to me – just as well because I think no matter what I’ll always be a little bit crazy, but per the immortal words of Seal – we’re never gonna to survive unless we are a little crazy. (this is his grammar, not mine – I’m cringing)

So when my mini mental episodes started to happen more frequently and last longer than they used to I decided that it was either time to try this therapy thing or just fall into the pit of despair and live there – you know – where I was most comfortable? So I swallowed my pride and made the phone call.

Initially my synopsis of therapy was I just talked about myself for an hour, what the hell is that going to do? But despite that I still kept going, every week for almost a year now. No meds, just basically telling my therapist how my week has been. What’s going on in my life, good or bad and how I cope with all of it. And this is a completely cognitive process, no medication involved.

The knowledge I’ve gained over the last 8 months has led me to many conclusions including: what I think is usually bullshit. What I believe should be analyzed thoroughly and debated with “what I think” vs. “what is the complete opposite of that”. Also I’ve learned how to recognize my self-deprecating humor and behavior and how to consciously try to correct it.  I was able to let go of relationships that were not good for me emotionally or mentally. I’ve learned not to dwell on assumed outcomes to lingering or past situations: things I hope for, things I would like to happen, things I think might happen and things that have happened. I’ve learned to shut that off and just focus on the now and know that I’ll deal with the situation when and if it arises. I understand my actions, my behaviors and the historical ramifications behind it. I’m starting to come to terms with my childhood dramas and realizing that there is no need to dwell on the past because YOU CANNOT CHANGE YOUR PAST. You can only grow, learn and move on. I know it sounds like a frou-frou new agey guru type mantra, but it’s as simple as that. Remember where you came from, but let go of why you got here.

By the way I just totally made that up.  Sometimes when I talk to my friends I speak in proverbs, a lot.  Some of them are really good, some of them are shit.  I’m adding “Remember where you came from, but let go of why you got here” as an awesome one.  You can all weigh in on that one, I don’t mind – I’m more comfortable with constructive criticism now.

So the animus (I’m also addicted to thesaurus) of my lengthy diatribe is that changing my physical appearance and gaining body health is great, but if I didn’t also work on my mental health I’d just be a skinnier version of the messed up person I’ve always been.  I am a convert – I whole heartedly believe in the power of therapy. Talking to someone who just met me who will not openly judge me for all the cray buzzing around in my noodle is a great way to express myself. It feeds the narcissist in me, but also gives me validation that I am not as lost a cause as I thought.  I finally have hope that I won’t lose my shit over every little thing, I am worth way more than I give myself credit for, some of my instincts are spot on, but most are insecurity driving the wheel and I can recognize that. I now have hope that someday I will be that high-functioning healthy and emotionally sound adult I’ve always wanted to be. And remember everyone no matter what your ailment, size, BMI, or emotional status…

 

How My Suppressive Past Molded My Present

My mother was very unhealthy with her body.  For as long as I can remember she was on a fad diet, going up and down in weight constantly, always struggling to be what she thought was the size she was supposed to be. And she was definitely depressed.

She passed away when I was 14 years old from cancer and I remember her actually saying to me, I’m finally skinny.  At that time I had no idea how my mother struggled, but I adopted her behavior anyway.  I do not recall her ever telling me I was fat, or trying to tell me what to eat and to be active. She was the one who drove me all around south Florida when I was on a traveling softball team; she was totally supportive of what I did. Yes, I did get sent to fat camp, but I’m 100% sure that was my grandmother that put that idea in my mom’s head. This I’m sure of considering the amount of “de-constructive criticism” I got from my grandmother on a pretty regular basis. But my mother never made me feel bad for what I looked like, but I know she blamed herself. She struggled and I know she hated that I struggled too.  I understand it now, I didn’t understand it then; what I learned from it then was that being overweight didn’t let you be happy.

And I’ve pretty much felt that way my whole life.  I lived by the preconceived notion that I couldn’t be happy as long as I was fat, ever. Fat people don’t get happiness; they just get to feel bad about themselves and consistently try to change, only to fail. That’s what I saw my mother do and although she never verbally instilled this in me I absorbed the behavior unconsciously through her actions.  Now, this is not a blame game – my tormented life had many other egregious contributing factors; I’ve only recently come to recognize this particular innate factor.

That came from how she was raised. That came from how she was treated by her mother and her mother before her and etc. At what point will women just be comfortable with who they are and their body as is? Why are we all so hard on ourselves? Why do we let outside influences frenzy us into neurosis about how much fat we have on our bodies? Guess that just makes us human, right?

Being newly conscious of how I became the person I am now I must ask myself if it’s time to continue blaming everyone and everything, or is it time to accept things for what they were and just move on? I can’t change the past, I can only learn, grow and evolve from it. It really is true, acceptance is the first step.

I get that now-a-days it’s about being health conscious. Which is fine, but at what point, at what size are you no longer considered “healthy”? Those are the blurred lines that are getting wider and wider with every passing day. I read an article the other day about a woman who was a size 8 and almost 6 feet tall who was told that she would never make it as a model, unless she was a plus size model. Seriously?

First of all why must that label even exist? What is PLUS SIZE? According to American fashion standards it’s a woman who is bigger than a size 6-8. How is that ok? When the standardized size of the average woman starts at a size 14, and is of average height. We should celebrate natural beauty, intelligence, compassion and principles. Not what size you fit into.

I have hope though. So many women of my generation are finally vivified to the reality that our parents and their parents before them have really warped the way we identify ourselves. We are getting wise to the fact that we don’t have to sit down and accept this prejudice anymore.  More and more women are starting to be less body conscious and becoming more body accepting.  It’s going to be a long time until women everywhere are just accepted for who they are and not the size they wear, but I’m happy to see the change is coming.

And not only are there more advocates for body acceptance from adults, it’s now being passed down to the youth. There’s a hope that children who are growing up now will become less objectifying and judgmental adults. I’ve already seen traces of the paradigm shift –  I’ve notice a lot of 20-somethings are much more polite, accepting of all shapes and sizes and are advocating against the prejudices of life. They are battling bullying in a smart and healthy way, they are no longer letting it stick to the glue – they’re all becoming rubber baby! It’s happening, slowly but surely.

Yes, I finally have hope that we can stop living in the shadow of the body dysmorphic world my 40 something and older peers grew up in and we can just live as we are and not be judged and ridiculed on a superficial scale.  What a beautiful world that would be, I just hope I’ll be alive to see it.

A Public Service Rant

I read an article very early this morning that resonated with me to post this rant. I don’t want to defer you from reading this because I said rant, but most likely it will be because most of my posts turn into a rant at some point.

I’ll start quickly at the beginning. I was born premature. I know when I tell people that they seem shocked, but it’s true I was stuck in the hospital for 4 days until I was at 6lbs to be released. And somewhere around 4^th grade I filled out – and not in the good ways. I was chubby. I was a cute kid so people called my chubby, not fat, yet – that came in 6^th grade. I was moved from Florida to New Jersey and my very first day of a new school starting 6^th grade – in the suburbs –  which was hard enough because everyone already knew everyone else since birth; I walked in and the first thing I heard from a boy was “wow, she’s fat”. Welcome to adolescence.

There was a stint in “fat camp” when I was 12; my parents sent me to upstate NY to a reverse bizzaro world where the skinnier people got ostracized. I was not one of the skinny kids so I was left alone. I apparently lost a lot of weight and was at the perfect weight for my height.  How could I not, at this fat camp they fed us powdered milk, cantaloupe with cottage cheese, a meager menu and made us be active.  As a 12 year old in the 80’s I was already pretty active, most kids were, but I really wasn’t the type to have to do 2 mile sprints for hours a day. When I came home, people still called me fat.

The next few years got hard. I was mercilessly made fun of, I was called Grimace (the purple blob thing from the McDonald’s characters), fat, ugly, useless, dumb, lazy, etc. In 9^th grade English class I had this tiny shit of a boy sit behind me and call me names every day all through class for months. Then my mom was dying and I was all sorts of a mess, so one day he was doing what he did and the teacher wouldn’t let me escape to the nurse anymore so I stood up, turned around and smacked him over the head with a book. I got a pass because my mom died, and after that I never heard a peep out of him again. That kind of bullying carried through until college.  In college people never said anything to my face, they just didn’t bother with me – and that’s where I became invisible.

In college, I believe I was at one of my peak weights, I was probably pushing over 300 pounds easily, I didn’t gain the Freshman 15, I ate one. And I was a social piraya to the opposite sex.  And it was then that I started to realize that while I had a lot of guy friends they will never want to be my boyfriend. If I had a nickel for every time I heard, “man with your personality and her body you’d make the perfect woman”. Um thanks? I guess.

This same thing continued through well, today.  I’ve had flings, the type of guys that think; well I can’t get a hot chick so that fat chick will go out with me.  They were all winners – that was me being sarcastic, but I accepted it because I thought to myself “get it while you can, who knows when this will happen again”. So I accepted mediocre “relationships” with guys who could give as little a shit about me as possible, but I was in love.  I’ve been conditioned to believe that if they give me the time of day, I’ll take it and I will make it love. So to say I’m dysfunctional in love would be an understatement.

The point of this diatribe is this: I’ve been fat my whole life and everyone let me know it. It’s been assumed that I’m just lazy and sit around eating donuts all day; I’ve been told that I just have to get up and do something – be active. I played softball and was really good at it most of my adolescent years into high school, while I was told I was fat by my family, my friends, and strangers on the street (they tended to be less cordial about it).  So with this I’ve lived with the belief that because I’m fat I’m not as good as anyone else.  My weight is the reason why I’m sad, lonely, unintelligent, lazy, and an all-around unattractive person.  This is what I’ve been told many times in many ways throughout my life. Being fat is probably one of the worst things a person can be because it’s super easy for people to judge you and conclude the kind of person you are simply by looking at you.

It wasn’t until I was starting my 30s that I had finally really tried hard to accept myself as I was. I felt that this was my lot in life. This was how I was supposed to be. I cursed god, the universe and anything you can think of; when really it was genetics, social influence and poor metabolism. Then as I got a little older I accepted it in the worst possible way fueled by my own insecurities and poor nutrition. I wanted to just live. I wanted to eat food that I loved and be who I was and be loved and be accepted.  And whatever husk I was living in was just going to have to be ok.  Was I happy? No.  Did I accept myself? No. I couldn’t because no matter what, I was still being judged and insulted in one way shape or form.  And then my body played the cruelest joke on me – I got sick. Not so much outwardly sick, but my body where it was healthy all those other fat years finally threw in the towel. My body started giving up.

It was then that I had to make a choice.  Continue this never-ending quest for self-acceptance and not live much longer, or change everything.

Losing weight for someone like me is not just losing weight.  It’s losing weight while bringing up 30+ years of self and outside abuse that forces my emotional brain damage to the surface.  I always knew I was emotionally and mentally a hot mess, but I did like most humans do, suppressed it – that was easy because I was just able to hide behind my massive fatness and just let that take the brunt of everything.

Now I’m down almost 90lbs and to the outside world – even though I’m not 100% acceptable, I’m not as ostracized as I once was. And so far, nothing has really changed. I’m still alone, I’m still scared of everything and I still have moments where I want to crawl into bed and never leave. I still dream of the day when I’ll be skinny and happy and not the mess you see before you.  I’m not there yet.

And I’m afraid even though I’ve made a lot of progress defining my debilitating way of thinking about myself, I don’t know if I’ll ever just look in the mirror and be like “yep, I love me”.

I wish I could just go to middle schools and talk to kids who are being bullied for their weight and tell them that it’s not worth it to let that define you. I want to tell them that most people have insecurities and hate something about them and they take it out on us because we are visually different from them. I want to tell them to change the way the world sees us by rising above it, not succumbing to it – like I did. Become a role model, someone not cut from the socially acceptable cloth and completely blow the minds of the world today. I want to tell them that nobody should tell you you have to change to be accepted, if you want to change for yourself, for you own reasons – by all means change, but do not let people make you feel like less because of how you look or make you feel you have to change to be accepted. This goes for girls and boys it happens to anyone who a person deems overweight (even if you might not be). This may be a very biased statement, but I really think it’s much harder for girls though.  Not only are women viewed as the lesser species, we also have to deal with unrealistic body images and men who whole-heartedly believe in those images.

I know a lot of people have said to me that everything I’ve said is just an excuse. I’ve used my weight problem as an excuse to be disgustingly fat and morosely unhappy.  I’ve been given so much advice on what I’ve been doing wrong and been told what I need to do – and mostly by people who just can’t understand what it’s like to have been ridiculed for being fat most of their lives. I’m going to be 40 this year – imagine that time that someone made you feel really shitty about yourself, now times that by 30 years – is it still just an excuse? How could I possibly have motivation to do anything more than just accept who everyone told me I was for so long? Sadly, it had become who I am.  I admit I’m weak, I’ve believed what people told me about myself, and I was not the beacon of fighting against the adversity of man. I looked adversity in the face and said “thank you, I’ll just go hide in my cave now”.

I can talk about this topic endlessly and tirelessly, but my point is if you see someone who you think is overweight and who is a stranger, you do not know anything about them, and do not say anything to them.  You don’t know why they are overweight, you don’t understand their story, you don’t even know if they’ve tried to change and couldn’t. You know nothing about them. Do not assume. I know for me a lot of the person I am today was because I was judged harshly, and now I have to deal with that damage. I have to deal with losing people in my life who can’t deal with my damage, I have to deal with trying to identify my damage and try to repair it so I can accept all the changes my body has made.  I also have to accept that even though I’ve lost weight I’m still a fat girl and will always be and also not to feel guilty or feel like I’m turning my back on my fellow women who have struggled like I have struggled. I know the elders of the women’s council of perpetually overweight ladies are sitting around saying “oh man we lost another one”. You haven’t I’m still here, but I’m just making sure I’m around a while longer. I still won’t give up the fight for acceptance. And I still won’t completely change who I am – but will identify what has always been awesome about me. I will change the way I think, and maybe I’ll finally just accept myself. As healthy, as is. And I will no longer care what everyone else thinks of me, because they don’t know me.

I just want to preface something here. There have been people in my life that have genuinely tried to help me – not to be different, but do whatever I can to be happy. They’ve encouraged me, told me I was beautiful, awesome, amazing and I have been loved. Not romantically loved, but I have and am loved. I don’t want to discount that. I heard those words, I really even wanted to believe that I was beautiful and awesome; I even pretended that I did from time to time.  I spent most of my life letting the negative hurtful words, rejections and crippling disappointments define me and while doing that I missed out on letting the positive in. I couldn’t possibly believe that people actually meant the nice things they said, they were just being nice because they were my friends and family – that was their obligation to me. Now to me that belief seems utterly ridiculous, after almost a year of therapy and digging down into the core of my fucked up brain I can finally say that seems utterly ridiculous. People don’t usually say things they don’t genuinely mean, even a nice compliment. And now I have to deal with the anger that I have for letting that negative take over my life and mold me to who I was a short year ago and who I am still struggling to fix today leaving a procession of damage along the way. The friendships ruined by my unwavering insecurities and paranoia. The missed opportunities of meeting a romantic interest due to my overwhelming fear of meeting new people by myself peppered with the anxiety of the assumed anticipation for more rejections and ridicule.

Yeah, it’s really hard to undo decades of damage. I just hope that people will want to share this and make more people aware to just stop judging people you don’t think is your ideal of acceptable – it may seem like harmless joking or fun to you, but the damage that incurs is sometimes immeasurable.  Just refrain from judging, keep your comments to yourself and teach your children to do the same. Stop making it ok for people to feel like less of a person, or bad about what they look like because I can assure you they do that just fine without your help.

The Quotidian Mood of Winter

This winter sucks. Yeah, I bluntly said it. It’s colder than it’s been in decades; we get some form of precipitation multiple times a week. Earlier this week I was apartment locked for the 3 days, I’m over it.  And I really think I have SAD.

SAD is seasonal affective disorder. No joking here – there’s mild cases and sever cases of it. As a person who has already been battling with depression I’d say I’m on the latter of the two. I sleep all the time. I have no desire to go anywhere or do anything, not even when I’m contently or forcibly confined to my apartment. I’ve developed driving anxiety, as soon as I get in the car I tense up and it doesn’t stop until I get out of the car. I’m afraid to drive at night because I’m pretty much blind or I just don’t want to drive at all.

Even though I’ve not been AS depressed as I’ve been in the past I just constantly have this sad feeling. I’m sad and I’m not sure why I’m sad. Actually it’s that there are many reasons to be sad all at once and some of them are not easily conquered with my no excuses attitude. I’ve come a long way in the past year no doubt.  And I’m starting to stop myself from having a complete mental breakdown every other week, but since the sun started going down early in the evening I’ve been meh. Meh meh meh, no motivation, no desire, just let me sleep another hour.

Everyone in the cold white east here has this. Whether or not you completely give in to it is your decision. I’ve been trying my damnedest not to let it take me all the way down the rabbit hole. I’ve been trying to do at least half of this list – except I’m nailing #10 pretty well, so maybe a little less of that one or #7. But #1 and #2 are great.

I found this article that gives some cool tips how to beat the winter melancholy and infinite sadness:

Courtesy of http://www.sparkpeople.com/resource/wellness_articles.asp?id=341

1. Exercise As if we needed another reason to get fit! Exercise isn’t only for maintaining your weight and staying healthy. It’s great for relieving the stresses of life. Plus, the effects of a good workout can last for several hours after you hit the showers. You’ll have more energy throughout the day, and your metabolism with stay elevated too. Exercise also helps your mind by releasing those “feel good chemicals” that improve your mood.
2. Eat a Healthy Diet What and when you eat has a great affect on your mood and energy. Avoid refined and processed foods (like white breads, rice, and sugar). These foods are not only devoid of the nutrients your body craves, but they zap your energy levels and can affect your mood—causing depression, lack of concentration, and mood swings. Try to incorporate more complex carbohydrates (whole wheat breads, brown rice, veggies, fruit) and get your daily 8 cups of water. These healthy foods provide your body (and mind) with nutrients, and stabilize your blood sugar and your energy levels.
3. Get Some Sun Most people know that sunlight provides us with Vitamin D. But did you know that it also improves your mood? Winter days are shorter and darker than other months, and because of the cold weather, a lot of people spend less and less time outdoors. Lack of sunlight can cause many people to become depressed—without knowing why! Similar to exercise, sunlight exposure releases neurotransmitters in the brain that affect mood. Try to spend a little more time outdoors.  Keep your shades up during the day to let more light in. Sit near windows in restaurants and during class. Try changing the light bulbs in your house to “full spectrum” bulbs. These mimic natural light and actually have the same affects on your mind as the real thing.
4. Act on your Resolutions A recent study from the CDC showed a strong link between healthy behaviors and depression. Women who exhibited healthy behaviors (like exercising, not smoking, etc.) had less sad and depressed days than those whose behaviors were less than healthy. Although researchers studied women, the results are likely similar in men.
5. Avoid Binge Drinking Staying in with a cold beer or a nice glass of wine may seem like the only thing to do in the winter months, and many people who feel down also tend to turn to alcohol when they’re feeling down. But alcohol is actually a depressant, and rather than improving your mood, it only makes it worse. Avoiding alcohol when you are already depressed is a good idea. Moderate drinking is fine for most people, but binge drinking (defined as having 5 or more drinks in one sitting) is never a healthy choice. The morning after will have you feeling sick, depressed, and even more tired, which will affect many aspects of your life. This will make your low energy and bad mood even worse.
6. Treat Yourself Having something to look forward to can keep anyone motivated. Winter seems endless! But if you plan something exciting, your mood improves when you’re anticipating it and when the event actually comes. Plan something that’s exciting to you—a weekend trip, a day at the spa, a party (but keep #5 above in mind), or special event like a play, girls (or guys) night out, or sporting event.
7. Relax! You’re busy! Work, class, family, friends, appointments, meetings—even if you enjoy being busy, everyone needs some time off. Don’t be afraid to say “No” to extra opportunities (covering a shift for a co-worker, bringing food to your son’s class party). Try to spend a few minutes each day doing nothing! Read a book or magazine, sleep in on the weekend, go to bed early, try some meditations, or take a yoga class. Relaxation, especially in the form of yoga, can alleviate stress and leave you with a calm energy. Mental exercises like meditation and positive thinking can help keep depression at bay.
8. Embrace the Season Instead of always avoiding the cold and the snow—look for the best that it has to offer! Take up a winter sport like ice skating, snowboarding, hockey, or even sledding! Enjoy these opportunities while they last—after all, they’re only here a few months per year. Staying active will boost your energy. Seeing winter in a positive light, with all the fun activities that it has to offer, will keep your spirits high.
9. Get Social Support Don’t underestimate the power of friends, family, mentors, co-workers, and neighbors. Who can you turn to when you’re down and need a pick-me-up? Keep a mental list of these special people and don’t be afraid to ask for help or encouragement when you need it. Something as simple as a phone call, a chat over coffee, or a nice email or letter can brighten your mood.
10. Catch some Zzzz’s People naturally want to sleep a little bit more during the winter. But with all we have going on, sometimes sleep is the first thing to go. With a little time management, and some self-discipline, you can meet your shut-eye needs. Aim for 7-8 hours each night, and try to keep your bedtime and waking time consistent. That way, your sleeping patterns can normalize and you’ll have more energy. Try not to oversleep—those 12-hour snoozes on the weekend can actually make you MORE tired. Don’t forget naps! A short (10-30 minute) afternoon nap may be all you need to re-energize midday.

Hopefully by trying to adopt some of these tips I can get out of my funk. Because it feels like Spring is forever away.

Me and My Scale Are No Longer Bros

Many have debated tirelessly on the pros and cons of weighing yourself every day.  On the one hand you can hold yourself accountable for every pound up or down; if you do it daily. On the other hand when you do it daily and see it petering back and forth in the same spot for an excruciatingly long time you want to bash that scale into a million tiny little pieces.

I’m just speculating.

I can concede with both sides of the argument now having been an ardent scale watcher for 388 days. Yes, looking on the scale every day holds you accountable, but lately for me it’s been a demotivation tactic.  I’ve been in the 180’s forever now and it’s frustrating. If I do everything perfectly I’m there, if I fall off the wagon and indulge, I’m still there. I’m in this 180 groundhog day vortex that I can’t seem to get out of. But, my size 14 pants are baggy. I’m sitting rather comfortably in my size 12’s right now.

I found an article focusing on some of the pros and cons of living by the scale alone; here are some helpful tips if you’re trying to release yourself from the scale chains too…

Courtesy of http://exercise.about.com/od/weightloss/a/losinginches.htm

Focus on Fat Loss, Not Weight Loss

When you talk about losing weight, what you usually mean is slimming down. But slimming down doesn’t always mean losing weight. It may sound odd, but it’s possible to get thinner without actually seeing a change in your weight. This happens when you lose body fat while gaining muscle. Your weight may stay the same, even as you lose inches, a sign that you’re moving in the right direction. But, if the scale doesn’t change, you may not even be aware that you’re getting real results. Knowing the difference between losing weight and losing body fat can change how you get results and may even change how you look at your own body.

The Truth About Your Weight

What does your weight say about you? If you think about it, that number doesn’t tell you a whole lot. The scale shows your weight, but does it tell you how much of that weight is muscle and how much is fat? Or how much of that weight is water, bones or organs? A bodybuilder’s weight could be off the charts because of extra muscle, but does that mean he’s overweight or fat? Most of us would say no because we know that weight doesn’t tell the whole story.

Knowing your body composition is crucial information if you really want to get results and, unfortunately, the scale doesn’t tell you that. Another reason scale weight isn’t so reliable is that it changes all the time. All of us experience weight changes throughout the day, sometimes by as much as 10 pounds depending on what and how often we eat and drink. You could gain weight right now by putting on a pair of heavy boots, but does that mean you’ve gained fat? No. Just as taking those boots off doesn’t mean you’ve lost any fat.

While the scale isn’t completely useless, it may not be the best tool for people just starting a fat loss program. If it doesn’t help you stay on track and reach your goals, maybe it’s time to throw out the scale for good.

Should You Throw Out the Scale?

You now know that focusing on fat loss is much more important than focusing on your weight. When you lose body fat, you’re making permanent changes in your body, shifting your body composition so that you have less fat and more muscle. When you lose weight, you could be losing water or even muscle. It’s impossible to know if you’re seeing real results or just the product of your daily habits, hormonal shifts and changing hydration levels.

When you first start a program, you may need extra encouragement to keep going, proof that what you’re doing is working and the scale may not give you that. Other ways the scale can work against you:

• It measures everything: The number on the scale includes everything – muscles, fat, bones, organs, fat, food and water. For that reason, your scale weight can be a deceptive number.
• It doesn’t reflect the changes happening in your body: If you’re doing cardio and strength training, you may build lean muscle tissue at the same time you’re losing fat. In that case, the scale may not change even though you’re getting leaner and slimmer.
• It doesn’t reflect your health: As mentioned above, the scale can’t tell the difference between fat and muscle. That means a person can have a low body weight, but still have unhealthy levels of body fat.
• It isn’t always a positive motivator: If you step on the scale and you’re unhappy with what you see, how does that make you feel? You may question everything you’re doing, wondering why you even bother at all. Focusing on weight may overshadow the positive results you’re getting such as fat loss, more endurance and higher energy levels.

Change How You Measure Your Success

Even if you’re not ready to stop weighing yourself entirely, using other ways to measure progress can keep you motivated and help you realize that you are making changes, no matter what the scale says.

• Go by how your clothes fit. If they fit more loosely, you know you’re on the right track
• Take your measurements to see if you’re losing inches
• Get your body fat tested or use an online calculator
• Set performance goals. Instead of worrying about weight loss or fat loss, focus on completing a certain number of workouts each week or competing in a race

If the scale is making you crazy, taking a break from weighing yourself may just open your eyes to other possibilities. Your weight isn’t the only measure of your success. Put away the scale and you may just see how far you’ve really come.

So, even though I may not be losing the pounds, I’m losing inches and doing something right. I’m getting stronger, I’m getting tighter, or at least I will.

A week ago tomorrow I signed up for personal training sessions at the gym two days a week.  And Sunday was my 2^nd session.

The first seemed so easy it was laughable. And we did a lot. Circuit training, machines, free weights, crunches! I was like wow, I can totally do this! Then the next day I was sore as a mother*ucker! But man nothing like that sore; that makes me happy. I never thought I’d be ecstatic to feel pain. Just so we’re clear it’s total bearable pain, its good pain.  It’s the pain they talk about when “they” say “No Pain, No Gain” – but alas, I’m gaining. This brings me full circle to the dreaded scale.

I lost 85ish pounds in the last year solely based on nutritional relearning/rebalancing. I had to teach myself how to eat like a healthy human rather than a college student. And I feel I’ve succeeded, which doesn’t say I don’t have the occasional cheat meal here and there – I am human not a robot! But I know I’m not resting on my laurels and I can’t just rely on that scale.

It’s about how I feel – physically, mentally, visually etc. Right now, I’m in a pretty good place. I’m not at my end goal by any means, but I’m definitely not as unhappy and miserable as I was.

This I thought could be the dreaded crossroads. This is where I could just lose it all and go back. But I’ve taken steps to make sure that doesn’t happen. I’m still adhering to eating better and I’m at the gym 2-3 times a week and based on my 2^nd workout (a) I need it and (b) it’s working.

I had my 2^nd training session on Sunday and this one kicked my ass. We did different machines, different weight training and different circuit training and all of it was hard. I don’t know if he was taking it easy on me the first time or what, but this time was hard.  But I didn’t quit, I pushed through and my body is happier for it.

So what I think I’m going to do for now, is keep doing what I’m doing.  Keep eating properly, keep going to the gym, but I will not get on that scale.  That scale has been nothing but a disappointment to me even though I know I’m getting healthier, I’m feeling better and getting smaller.

I’m going to do the 2 week no look challenge (yeah I just totally made that a thing). And hopefully the not knowing will keep me more motivated than the looking every day.  All I know is that I need to do something that gets me back on the track to the ultimate goal. 

In the health coaching business I see a lot of great transformation stories, lots of successes in a short amount of time too! I’ve come to learn and accept that that’s not me. I do have a great transformation story in progress and I will get to my end result in time, just not quickly – I still have so much to work out, so much to figure out, so much to battle with and this is NOT EASY. I will say that again, THIS IS NOT EASY.  But if this was easy do you think we’d have so many people like me in the world? You have to want it bad enough. You have to fight tooth and nail for this.  You have to fight with yourself all the time to not make that excuse, or to make that wrong choice and sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. Sometimes you want someone else to do it for you. Sometimes you are all alone in this and sometimes you lose sight of things, but you have to keep fighting.  No matter what happens you have to keep going or else all of this was for nothing.  And I will not be a failure ever again.

Gym Anxiety is a Real Thing – according to me

I’ll admit it, I have the gym anxiety.  I’ve been to many a gym before as a big girl and I’ve never felt comfortable there.  I’m not one for taking classes, I’m not brave (or insane?) 🙂 enough for CrossFit and I don’t really have a workout routine.

I’ve always been a treadmill rat. I’d go on the treadmill, walk briskly for 30 minutes and be on my way. Occasionally I’d try a stationary bike or get my lungs propelled out of my body on the elliptical (for some reason that one was really hard for me), but I’ve not done weights or anything like that either, I’ve just had no interest in working out at all, mostly because I didn’t think I could.

That’s why I finally chose my workout of choice will be running. Which is still really hard and I feel like I’m working my entire body without having to plan, think and/or wonder how to use what machine and how.

And I’m getting closer to running for a full 30mins and soon hopefully to a 5k, but now I have a sort of guilty conscious about the gym.  I’m basically paying $22 a month to use the treadmill for 30 mins.  Am I really getting the most out of what the gym has to offer me? Is it time to actually make an effort and try and plan an exercise routine? The thought of that gives me anxiety, when I was in the gym yesterday I saw 2 women in the whole place, the rest were dudes lifting weights – for me I still have anxiety talking or being around a lot of guys especially in this kind of environment because I have to convince myself they are not judging me.

But in 2015 I made an affirmation to myself to continue to step out of my comfort zone and I have to try and co-exist with the other gym members politely avoiding them instead of avoiding with misconstrued contempt for fictitious judgment of myself.

I am still a work in progress ok?

So, I digress, I’ve done some Googling and I found an article on WebMD titled The Absolute Beginner’s Guide to Exercise – perhaps they can give me some idea to how to fully utilize that damn gym membership I had to get because I’m too much of a wuss to run in below freezing temperatures.

Article can be found here: http://www.webmd.com/fitness-exercise/guide/fitness-beginners-guide?page=4

Once you’re warmed up, experts recommend three different types of exercise for overall physical fitness: cardiovascular activity, strength conditioning, and flexibility training. These don’t all have to be done at once, but doing each on a regular basis will result in balanced fitness.

• Cardiovascular activity. Start by doing an aerobic activity, like walking or running, for a sustained 20-30 minutes, four to five times a week, says Bryant. To ensure you’re working at an optimum level, try the “talk test”: Make sure you can carry on a basic level of conversation without being too winded. But if you can easily sing a song, you’re not working hard enough.
• Strength conditioning. Start by doing one set of exercises targeting each of the major muscle groups. Bryant suggests using a weight at which you can comfortably perform the exercise eight to 12 times in a set. When you think you can handle more, gradually increase either the weight, the number of repetitions, or number of sets. To maximize the benefits, do strength training at least twice a week. Never work the same body part two days in a row.
• Flexibility training. The American College on Exercise recommends doing slow, sustained static stretches three to seven days per week. Each stretch should last 10-30 seconds.

To learn how to perform certain exercises, consider hiring a personal trainer for a session or two, or take advantage of free sessions offered when you join a gym.

So, if you, like me have that gym anxiety forget about it, brush it off and do what you have to do. People are not openly (maybe silently), but not openly judging you they are completely focused on themselves. Gyms bring out the narcissist in all of us just embrace it and do something out of your comfort zone. In the long run it will be worth the anxiety and before you know it you’ll feel 100% comfort when you go to the gym.

I’ll be sure to let you know when I reach that point.