Weighty Matters

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Still Working on that Funk

I have not been overwhelmingly successful in taking back my joy yet. I have good segments of time when I’m able to shake off the “I can’t lose weight no matter what I do” funk, but not enough segments, or long enough chunks of time, to sustain me. I miss the feeling that I enjoyed where every day I jumped out of bed excited about my progress, leaping into my physical activity and relishing the new ease and strength of my body. My spirit and my physical self still feel heavy, weighted down.

That said, perhaps I’m making some progress. I’ve determined that I do better in the daytime than I do at night. When I’m home after dinner I am often beset by the urge to eat even after my meal. Not only do I want to eat more, but I seem to want to eat inappropriate foods. It’s like any of the negative feelings coalesce in the evening until I’m sad and frustrated. Then, when I end up eating more than I should or eating something that I shouldn’t, I get even more blue.

Sounds pitiful, doesn’t it? Actually, realizing the timing gives me some hope. I’m by nature a fixer. Admittedly, I’m often better at fixing someone else’s situation, or a work situation, than I am at fixing myself, but identifying a specific time of day gives me something more concrete on which to focus. I can develop a strategy so that I don’t eat compulsively after dinner but stick to my plan.

This might sound silly, but I even set a reminder in my phone calendar for 8 p.m. tonight that says No More Eating. Since when I compulsively eat, I do it without much thought, or without being able to interrupt the action before I’ve done the damage, I thought a reminder might help me be more mindful. We’ll see.

It’s a process. As long as I keep working on it, I’m not giving up.

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Taking You to Funk-ytown

That title contains a little bit of a local joke. A little bit across the water from my house is a house on a point of land. The people that own it fixed up the outdoor area with a little dance floor and sound system. Quite often music drifts out over the harbor – classic rock, old country, their tastes are varied. They also like to occasionally pump up the jam with disco and other dance music to which they also often sing. If you can call the caterwauling singing. Seriously, it’s the worst karaoke ever to the point where it’s laughable if you have a sense of humor or reason to call the deputies and invoke the late night noise ordinance if your ears can’t take it. The woman is particularly fond of shrieking along to, “Won’t you take me to Funkytown?” That was never the most melodious tune and it’s nine-fighting-cats-in-heat bad when she takes the microphone.

My Funk-ytown is different as in, I’m in a funk and have been for days. I thought I would be finished with just a one day buzz crash, but emotionally, physically, and food-wise, I’ve had a rough week. Put all three of those aspects on a downturn at the same time and they feed each other, which only makes me feel worse. Then it wipes me out so that I not only feel bad, I’m exhausted. Last night I was so tired that I fell asleep in my chair sometime after 9 p.m., woke up as Scandal was starting and was so muzzy-brained that I just turned off the television and crawled into bed. I woke up a couple of times in the night but fell right back asleep. Even with enough hours of sleep time logged, when my alarm went off at 6 a.m., I absolutely did not want to get up and go for a walk or bike ride. So I didn’t. I watched the DVR recording of Scandal instead. To digress a moment, if you’re a fan of the show like I am, allow me to virtually shriek, “OMG!! Cyrus is soulless!”

Anyway, there’s tiredness where I don’t feel like I can get enough sleep. Sluggishness from not exercising. Add in stress over a situation at work. Mix in some extra achyness — probably from being tired and holding onto stress. It all has the effect of stirring up my hunger. Big time. Around lunch, I was absolutely ravenous.

That alone is very strange. I usually only feel hungry when it’s appropriate for me to feel so, as in enough hours have passed since I ate something that the right amount of hunger signals me that it’s time for me to eat. Ever since my surgery, I don’t really feel severe hunger and certainly never the, “I could eat a small pony” degree.

This tells me that the, “Oh my goodness, I am STARVING” experience wasn’t physical hunger — at least not all of it. I think it was a bit of actual hunger dramatically magnified by my emotions. I then fed the anxiousness with lots of negative emotions and thoughts. Things like, “You’re eating off plan and you deliberately didn’t exercise. OMG, you’re relapsing. Your motivation is gone. You’re going to gain back all of your weight!!!!”

I don’t 100% know for sure what’s going on with me that I’m having all this emotional reaction and eating. What I’m trying to do to combat is to be aware of what I’m feeling and experiencing and sort out the truth from the disease thinking and acting. I remind myself that there are bound to be highs and lows on this journey. I don’t need to be perfect all of the time. I just need to strive for doing as best I can. I need to observe what’s going on around me, understand how it affects me and how often I let it affect my choices and behavior. Above all, I need to tell myself that this is a setback, not a road block. It’s a challenging time but it isn’t going to wreck me and screw up all of the fabulous progress I’ve made and success I’ve achieved.

I might visit Funkytown, but I’m not going to take up residence.

There’s probably more I can write on this topic and, certainly, more to explore. Unfortunately, no lie, I nodded off while typing a few sentences back. The sleepiness is upon me again so it’s time for me to listen to my brain and body and go to bed.

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