In a couple of days, I'll have been following the Medifast program for five months. Prior to that, I had been eating healthily and exercising since the beginning of the year, and had already seen significant progress in weight loss/strength gains at the time I started with Medifast.
The progress continues to be steady (and wonderful.) Just now, I noticed that my "new" black skirt (size 18) has about 4" of extra fabric at the waistline. (Size 16 may be here sooner than I thought!)
Back in the winter, I could not have imagined how much better my life could be by the end of the year.
Some of the wonderful aspects of the wellness journey:
I am rarely incontinent now. Woot! That alone would be worth celebrating with great fanfare.
I feel sexy and flirtatious.
The swelling in my legs is drastically better! Woot again!!
My skin looks younger and healthier.
I look younger and healthier (one friend said 20 years younger!)
I am tons stronger. When I started exercising, a simple action like rolling over in bed was growing "iffy". While I do have significant paralysis in some of the muscles in my legs, many of the otherwise healthy muscles in my trunk and hips were atrophied and weak from under use. Since I have been doing exercises in bed for about 30 minutes each night, my abdominal and back muscles grow significantly stronger. When I started, I couldn't do a sit up. Now, I do 100 each night. I have an exercise routine that I constantly adjust to provide challenge. Once something becomes easy, I add more resistance or increase the repetitions. There's no method to my madness other than doing what feels instinctive and exercising muscles in a way that feels like "work" but doesn't feel like pain.
Back in January, there wasn't one part of my body that I found attractive. Now, I grow increasingly delighted to gaze into the mirror. I love my neck and shoulders. I love my arms. I love my ribcage. I love my slim lower legs and love wearing skirts.
Back in January, I couldn't imagine that I would ever date. It was inconceivable... I felt unhealthy. Shoot, I was unhealthy and couldn't conceive of dating or romance. As I grow increasingly healthy, my attitude is, "Darn, I had no idea that an attractive/strong/healthy woman was hiding in there and, not only is it possible that I might date again, but I'm fairly certain it's in the cards in the not too distant future."
Back in January, I felt very, very disabled. Crippled. Today, I feel strong and lithe, and know that I've really just begun to see how wonderfully responsive my body can be. I can easily imagine that a year from now, I have the potential to be a very fit, healthy, athletic wheelchair user.
A year ago, my body was a runaway train about to jump the track. Today, I am chugging happily along and feeling quite pleased and happy with the journey so far.
Best guess: I've lost about 50 pounds. so far. Way to Go, Lynna!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Food is Now Food, Not Vicodin
I had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I went "home" for a few days and thoroughly enjoyed the trip.
Oh, let's be clear, though, it was full of family drama and upset as well as full of love and laughter. Life, I'm learning, is like that. And I'm learning to soak up the wonderfulness and tuck it away in my heart and learning to let the less pleasant aspects roll off without penetrating my soul. I think that's called semi-permeable boundaries... my boundaries are like those spikes that stick up in pavement that keep cars from going the wrong direction. In this case, the spikes allow full access to love, and shred the tires of fear, anger, hurt feelings, etc. and serve as a protective barrier to keep them from turning into bitterness or chronic anxiety.
As such, I am so much more resilient in dealing with "negative" emotions in a calm, rational manner... they just don't have the power they once did. And, because I know I have the internal fortitude to deal with conflict without being consumed by it, I find myself growing increasingly courageous and adventurous. Because I don't have to worry so much about protecting myself, I'm able to live with increasing freedom and daring. I LOVE THIS!
It has pay-offs in the eating/physical realm, too. Food has been the primary way I have self-soothed for my entire life (at least as far back as I can remember). Eating was the unconscious means I would use to feel better when I was hurt, or to lessen anxiety when I was afraid, or to feel happier when I was sad. Any emotion that caused pain would lead me zombie-like to the fridge for emotional pain-killer. Food was like Vicodin for me.
What has changed?
1) I have much more capacity to deal with painful emotions. I've experienced a ton of pain in recent years and I've seen how it can be transformed into gold. Sitting with the anger, the fear, the jealousy, the sadness... fully experiencing the difficult emotions and offering them up to God in prayer... has allowed the difficult experiences/emotions to be transformed into increasing strength, compassion, wisdom, and a more patient, loving heart.
2) I know that I can fully experience pain and it won't kill me and it won't last forever.
3) I have God to sit with me in the pain. I'm not alone and I don't have to rely on myself or others to fix it. God is a great psychotherapist!
4) I now realize that suffering is part of life. In my younger years, I thought we were SUPPOSED to feel good all the time. I now know that the abundant life is one lived fully in the joy AND the sorrow.
5)There's alot of growth potential in the "sorrow". I don't grow so much when I'm feeling good. It's when I'm in pain that I have the most potential to pay attention and to grow into being more like Christ. (Therefore, eating to numb the pain not only led my body to grow overweight, but it led my soul to be undernourished and starved.)
Oh, let's be clear, though, it was full of family drama and upset as well as full of love and laughter. Life, I'm learning, is like that. And I'm learning to soak up the wonderfulness and tuck it away in my heart and learning to let the less pleasant aspects roll off without penetrating my soul. I think that's called semi-permeable boundaries... my boundaries are like those spikes that stick up in pavement that keep cars from going the wrong direction. In this case, the spikes allow full access to love, and shred the tires of fear, anger, hurt feelings, etc. and serve as a protective barrier to keep them from turning into bitterness or chronic anxiety.
As such, I am so much more resilient in dealing with "negative" emotions in a calm, rational manner... they just don't have the power they once did. And, because I know I have the internal fortitude to deal with conflict without being consumed by it, I find myself growing increasingly courageous and adventurous. Because I don't have to worry so much about protecting myself, I'm able to live with increasing freedom and daring. I LOVE THIS!
It has pay-offs in the eating/physical realm, too. Food has been the primary way I have self-soothed for my entire life (at least as far back as I can remember). Eating was the unconscious means I would use to feel better when I was hurt, or to lessen anxiety when I was afraid, or to feel happier when I was sad. Any emotion that caused pain would lead me zombie-like to the fridge for emotional pain-killer. Food was like Vicodin for me.
What has changed?
1) I have much more capacity to deal with painful emotions. I've experienced a ton of pain in recent years and I've seen how it can be transformed into gold. Sitting with the anger, the fear, the jealousy, the sadness... fully experiencing the difficult emotions and offering them up to God in prayer... has allowed the difficult experiences/emotions to be transformed into increasing strength, compassion, wisdom, and a more patient, loving heart.
2) I know that I can fully experience pain and it won't kill me and it won't last forever.
3) I have God to sit with me in the pain. I'm not alone and I don't have to rely on myself or others to fix it. God is a great psychotherapist!
4) I now realize that suffering is part of life. In my younger years, I thought we were SUPPOSED to feel good all the time. I now know that the abundant life is one lived fully in the joy AND the sorrow.
5)There's alot of growth potential in the "sorrow". I don't grow so much when I'm feeling good. It's when I'm in pain that I have the most potential to pay attention and to grow into being more like Christ. (Therefore, eating to numb the pain not only led my body to grow overweight, but it led my soul to be undernourished and starved.)
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
A History, Biology and Math Lesson
I am growing increasingly certain that weight gain and weight loss are hugely complex processes with deep physchological, emotional, and spiritual components. Who was the first idiot to distill it down to the simplistic formula of calories in/calories out? Even on a purely mathematical level, it belies the intricacy of the human body. For example, the proponents of calories in/calories out would say that if you eat 1500 calories in food, you need to expend more than 1500 calories to lose weight.
But what about the body's capacity under deprivation conditions to become MUCH more efficient at energy conservation? (An ingenious biological mechanism, incidentally, that served our hunter/gatherer ancestors during times of famine to survive.)
The weanies whose bodies followed the calories in/calories out gurus of the Pleistocene Era (I made that name up... so if my historical knowledge of pre-civilization eras is inaccurate, I just want to say: Why in the heck do you have useless trivia like that cluttering your brain?)... where was I before going off on that rabbit trail?... ahh, yes, the weanies... the weanies died off. And their genetic material died with them. Without a mechanism to eek super-efficiency from the meager fare available during winters or droughts, they simply devolved off the biological landscape. Damn. I would LOVE to have some of THAT genetic ancestry in my double helix.
Instead, my ancestors seem to be the ROCK STARS of survival. I can picture my
Great-Great-Great (and so on, but I'm too lazy to type "Great" 7683 times)Grandmother greeting her hairy man (my great, great, great... Grandfather) as he returned home from a hunting expedition: "Honey, any man can bring home a wooly mammoth to his family. It takes special cunning and prowess to kill a vole. Why I can take that little ol' vole, a turnip, and a handful of herbs and we'll eat like (insert something here... they didn't have Kings and Queens back then, but you get the idea).
And, so they would add a little liquid each day to the stewpot (which was really the convex clavicle of the wooly mammoth her ferocious hunter brought down the previous winter when times were better)and they lived for 67 days, quite nicely, thank you very much, on 27 calories a day.
I lament that that my family's genetic code hasn't undergone a spontaneous mutation in the ensuing generations. Would that a cystocine replaced a guanine somewhere during transcription (that instead coded for burning 2000 calories for every 1000 consumed, instead of burning 57 for every 1000 consumed).
Genetecist Readers: Pipe down. I know I'm butchering the little bit of freshman year genetics that still rattles around in the cobwebby recesses of my brain. Do you really have to be so pedantic and let everybody know they aren't as smart as you! sheesh.)
And so, I'll go happily about my day today, consuming my 800-1000 daily calories in Medifast meals which should yield 2-5 pounds lost per week (according to their literature)(Wah! I WANT THOSE ANCESTORS!) and I'll content myself with the 0.2 pounds each week and be satisfied that 38 years from now at 87 years of age, I am gonna be one svelte, healthy and sexy old broad when I finally triumph over thousands of years of survival genetics. Mathematicians: For Pete's sake. These aren't real calculations. They were illustrations... do you people have to take everything so literally? sheesh
But what about the body's capacity under deprivation conditions to become MUCH more efficient at energy conservation? (An ingenious biological mechanism, incidentally, that served our hunter/gatherer ancestors during times of famine to survive.)
The weanies whose bodies followed the calories in/calories out gurus of the Pleistocene Era (I made that name up... so if my historical knowledge of pre-civilization eras is inaccurate, I just want to say: Why in the heck do you have useless trivia like that cluttering your brain?)... where was I before going off on that rabbit trail?... ahh, yes, the weanies... the weanies died off. And their genetic material died with them. Without a mechanism to eek super-efficiency from the meager fare available during winters or droughts, they simply devolved off the biological landscape. Damn. I would LOVE to have some of THAT genetic ancestry in my double helix.
Instead, my ancestors seem to be the ROCK STARS of survival. I can picture my
Great-Great-Great (and so on, but I'm too lazy to type "Great" 7683 times)Grandmother greeting her hairy man (my great, great, great... Grandfather) as he returned home from a hunting expedition: "Honey, any man can bring home a wooly mammoth to his family. It takes special cunning and prowess to kill a vole. Why I can take that little ol' vole, a turnip, and a handful of herbs and we'll eat like (insert something here... they didn't have Kings and Queens back then, but you get the idea).
And, so they would add a little liquid each day to the stewpot (which was really the convex clavicle of the wooly mammoth her ferocious hunter brought down the previous winter when times were better)and they lived for 67 days, quite nicely, thank you very much, on 27 calories a day.
I lament that that my family's genetic code hasn't undergone a spontaneous mutation in the ensuing generations. Would that a cystocine replaced a guanine somewhere during transcription (that instead coded for burning 2000 calories for every 1000 consumed, instead of burning 57 for every 1000 consumed).
Genetecist Readers: Pipe down. I know I'm butchering the little bit of freshman year genetics that still rattles around in the cobwebby recesses of my brain. Do you really have to be so pedantic and let everybody know they aren't as smart as you! sheesh.)
And so, I'll go happily about my day today, consuming my 800-1000 daily calories in Medifast meals which should yield 2-5 pounds lost per week (according to their literature)(Wah! I WANT THOSE ANCESTORS!) and I'll content myself with the 0.2 pounds each week and be satisfied that 38 years from now at 87 years of age, I am gonna be one svelte, healthy and sexy old broad when I finally triumph over thousands of years of survival genetics. Mathematicians: For Pete's sake. These aren't real calculations. They were illustrations... do you people have to take everything so literally? sheesh
Monday, November 22, 2010
Enjoying the Journey instead of Seeking The Goal
I take a low level antidepressant for depression. It works pretty well to level out my emotions, but doesn't even come close to the mood elevating effects of my better "antidepressant": My Nustep.
A Nustep is a seated recumbent cross-trainer and is a staple in gyms and physical therapy clinics across the country. It sits in the corner of my living room across from the entertainment center. (Note: I have an intense love for interior decorating and the Nustep does NOT go with my casual cottage decor. Even so, it's so valuable, I allow it to take up that valuable visual real estate.)
With rare exceptions, I relish the time I spend exercising with it. The hour a day I spend riding is one of the best parts of each day and something I anticipate (usually) with excitement.
What a sharp departure from the old Lynna who approached exercise as a chore... something to get through... 98, 99, 100! Shew! Finally done! Exercise was something I endured as a necessary evil to get to The Goal. (The Goal was ALWAYS some distant and smaller number on the scales.)
Today, I'm enjoying The Journey instead of trying to obtain The Goal. On The Journey, I take time to marvel at the muscles in my body and delight in seeing them grow stronger. I enjoy shopping for cute clothes to honor my body. I enjoy living in the moment instead of believing that I will only be able to fully live in a size 8 body.
On The Journey, my Nustep is an important companion. It has returned to me the sense that my body is remarkable. Having a progressive neuromuscular disease and having gone from relatively able-bodied to wheelchair-user in a decades span, I formerly had the sense that my body was defective. My attitude, tho, was my main crippling disability. "What the heck. Why bother. Why bother exercising... I'll never be able to walk normally again, anyhow. I'll never be like normal people. I'll never be normal anyhow. I might as well eat whatever I want. At least I'll feel better."
Today, for an hour each day, I experience my body as perfection. Instead of counting down the minutes, I spend much of the time talking to my body. "You are amazing. You are powerful. Look at you! Muscles, you are something else! I had no idea you were in there! Why! You are strong! Thank you Body!"
That exhilerating feeling of power and gratitude is spilling over into the rest of my life. I am feeling less and less and less "disabled" and more and more and more empowered. I am taking bigger risks. I am willing to try daring adventures. I am smiling and laughing more.
Yes, I think the big, bulky Nustep, even though it upsets the balance of my cottage decor, has a permanent place in my living room and in my heart.
A Nustep is a seated recumbent cross-trainer and is a staple in gyms and physical therapy clinics across the country. It sits in the corner of my living room across from the entertainment center. (Note: I have an intense love for interior decorating and the Nustep does NOT go with my casual cottage decor. Even so, it's so valuable, I allow it to take up that valuable visual real estate.)
With rare exceptions, I relish the time I spend exercising with it. The hour a day I spend riding is one of the best parts of each day and something I anticipate (usually) with excitement.
What a sharp departure from the old Lynna who approached exercise as a chore... something to get through... 98, 99, 100! Shew! Finally done! Exercise was something I endured as a necessary evil to get to The Goal. (The Goal was ALWAYS some distant and smaller number on the scales.)
Today, I'm enjoying The Journey instead of trying to obtain The Goal. On The Journey, I take time to marvel at the muscles in my body and delight in seeing them grow stronger. I enjoy shopping for cute clothes to honor my body. I enjoy living in the moment instead of believing that I will only be able to fully live in a size 8 body.
On The Journey, my Nustep is an important companion. It has returned to me the sense that my body is remarkable. Having a progressive neuromuscular disease and having gone from relatively able-bodied to wheelchair-user in a decades span, I formerly had the sense that my body was defective. My attitude, tho, was my main crippling disability. "What the heck. Why bother. Why bother exercising... I'll never be able to walk normally again, anyhow. I'll never be like normal people. I'll never be normal anyhow. I might as well eat whatever I want. At least I'll feel better."
Today, for an hour each day, I experience my body as perfection. Instead of counting down the minutes, I spend much of the time talking to my body. "You are amazing. You are powerful. Look at you! Muscles, you are something else! I had no idea you were in there! Why! You are strong! Thank you Body!"
That exhilerating feeling of power and gratitude is spilling over into the rest of my life. I am feeling less and less and less "disabled" and more and more and more empowered. I am taking bigger risks. I am willing to try daring adventures. I am smiling and laughing more.
Yes, I think the big, bulky Nustep, even though it upsets the balance of my cottage decor, has a permanent place in my living room and in my heart.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
My Mom's Excellent Question
My mom is one of my biggest fans. She is constantly encouraging me... not just on the weight loss journey, but she tells me all the time how much she admires me, encourages my writing, and is a major source of overall life encouragement.
I had no idea how distressed she was before regarding my health. The other day, she said, (and this is INCREDIBLY telling)"Lynna, because of what you are doing (ie taking care of myself), this is the best year of my entire life."
Wow! May I just say again, Wow! And may I also say I am so sorry for the worry and the distress that I caused her. She couldn't even tell me how concerned she was because I was terribly defensive and would cut people off at the knees with a biting retort. And, I'd show them by eating more! So, the people who loved me just had to sit back and wait.
My mom asked me yesterday why I had ignored my weight all those years and why I had decided to do something about it now.
At first, I was stumped and then I had a moment of enlightenment. "Mom, it wasn't that I wasn't paying attention all those years. I WAS working. Working damn hard. On my emotional, spiritual, and relational well being.
I left a marriage wherein I didn't feel I had a voice, I grieved a significant disability and learned to accept/embrace it, I became friends with God after being "divorced from God" (my choice) for 20 years and learned to wrestle with God about the big theological questions (like why does a good Father allow disability in children he loves), I faced my deepest fear of inadequacy and went back to work and excelled in my profession, I learned to live with integrity between my actions and my values.
In short, I was growing up. I was learning to love myself. I was learning to love other people. I was learning to love my body.
So, it wasn't that something just "clicked" recently... it's been building for ten years, little healing by little healing, building upon each other. For that reason, this is NOT a diet. It is a natural flow into the next level of wellness, this time manifest physically.
It amazes me how it all works together, and I can't wait to see what healing tomorrow brings.
I had no idea how distressed she was before regarding my health. The other day, she said, (and this is INCREDIBLY telling)"Lynna, because of what you are doing (ie taking care of myself), this is the best year of my entire life."
Wow! May I just say again, Wow! And may I also say I am so sorry for the worry and the distress that I caused her. She couldn't even tell me how concerned she was because I was terribly defensive and would cut people off at the knees with a biting retort. And, I'd show them by eating more! So, the people who loved me just had to sit back and wait.
My mom asked me yesterday why I had ignored my weight all those years and why I had decided to do something about it now.
At first, I was stumped and then I had a moment of enlightenment. "Mom, it wasn't that I wasn't paying attention all those years. I WAS working. Working damn hard. On my emotional, spiritual, and relational well being.
I left a marriage wherein I didn't feel I had a voice, I grieved a significant disability and learned to accept/embrace it, I became friends with God after being "divorced from God" (my choice) for 20 years and learned to wrestle with God about the big theological questions (like why does a good Father allow disability in children he loves), I faced my deepest fear of inadequacy and went back to work and excelled in my profession, I learned to live with integrity between my actions and my values.
In short, I was growing up. I was learning to love myself. I was learning to love other people. I was learning to love my body.
So, it wasn't that something just "clicked" recently... it's been building for ten years, little healing by little healing, building upon each other. For that reason, this is NOT a diet. It is a natural flow into the next level of wellness, this time manifest physically.
It amazes me how it all works together, and I can't wait to see what healing tomorrow brings.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Saturday Morning after Friday Night
I woke up this morning feeling refreshed and powerful. I chose well last night, and today is better for it. I chose the less immediately gratifying route of satisfying my desires for food by instead hoosing to eat a Medifast "meal" and to exercise... my normal disciplined routine.
The way the thoughts of food were calling to me felt like the phone ringing back in college with the football lothario on the other end asking for a last minute date. Now, I COULD have so easily gone on that date (I've done it before... both figuratively and literally), gorged on the emotional high and the immediate gratification, but woken up this morning with a hang-over and regrets of "I so can't believe what I did to (with) my body last night." The temporary good feelings of the instant (albeit destructive and impermanent) reward, would have been replaced this morning with lower self-esteem, and probably the addictive cycle of trying to find the same reward only with more and more effort and more and more "drug". Chasing the high. (The emotional high from food or being desired, or...)
Instead of spending the evening with the equivalent of the football jock (eating crazy food), I chose the guy next door: the quiet, unassuming, steady friend (riding my Nustep and staying on plan). It was't terribly exciting or sexy or all that much fun. But it was comfortable, good for me, safe, and healthy.
And today, I am clear-eyed, proud of myself, a little bit stronger and a tad more self-disciplined, and a lot more appreciative of that equivalent of the nerdy, computer geek. The football star is beginning to look a little bit slimy and unappealing. Next time he calls, I'm pretty sure I'll tell him I've found a better love and I'm not interested in the shallow, unfulfilling "rewards" of an evening spent with him.
This whole journey toward wellness isn't a "diet". It's about growing up and getting wiser. About darn time.
The way the thoughts of food were calling to me felt like the phone ringing back in college with the football lothario on the other end asking for a last minute date. Now, I COULD have so easily gone on that date (I've done it before... both figuratively and literally), gorged on the emotional high and the immediate gratification, but woken up this morning with a hang-over and regrets of "I so can't believe what I did to (with) my body last night." The temporary good feelings of the instant (albeit destructive and impermanent) reward, would have been replaced this morning with lower self-esteem, and probably the addictive cycle of trying to find the same reward only with more and more effort and more and more "drug". Chasing the high. (The emotional high from food or being desired, or...)
Instead of spending the evening with the equivalent of the football jock (eating crazy food), I chose the guy next door: the quiet, unassuming, steady friend (riding my Nustep and staying on plan). It was't terribly exciting or sexy or all that much fun. But it was comfortable, good for me, safe, and healthy.
And today, I am clear-eyed, proud of myself, a little bit stronger and a tad more self-disciplined, and a lot more appreciative of that equivalent of the nerdy, computer geek. The football star is beginning to look a little bit slimy and unappealing. Next time he calls, I'm pretty sure I'll tell him I've found a better love and I'm not interested in the shallow, unfulfilling "rewards" of an evening spent with him.
This whole journey toward wellness isn't a "diet". It's about growing up and getting wiser. About darn time.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Romanced by Pepperoni
It's Friday night and I'm bored out of my gourd. After a fast-paced day of lunch with a great friend, followed by shopping at my favorite Goodwill 50% off sale (found some terrific skirts and sweaters!), I'm feeling very restless and disinterested in everything... even the thought of reading doesn't hold much appeal. Gasp. (I can't remember EVER not wanting to read. Even when I've had a stomach bug with my head hanging over the toilet, I'd reach for the toothpaste tube or shampoo bottle... anything, anything, anything as long as it had words.)
Actually, there is something that's grabbed my attention. For the first time in four months, I'm having food cravings. Good thing there's nothing in the house, or I would be hip deep in pizza, cheesecake, chips and sour cream dip, chocolate chip cookies, lasagna... well, you get the idea. WHERE DID THIS COME FROM? Here I am minding my own business, happily munching a stalk of celery and preparing to settle in for a good workout on my Nustep, and BOOM! all these old food longings have reared their vicious, ugly heads.
Part of my journey towards wellness is to try to understand myself better,to understand how I use food in ways other than sustenance, and to learn healthier behaviors and emotional responses to life besides self-medicating with food.
Perhaps the past couple of weeks are catching up with me. I've had some pretty major highs and lows emotionally. Amazing adventures coupled with surprising defeats. Right now, I'd like to curl up on the couch with a giant bowl of ice cream smothered in chocolate syrup and whipped cream and just eat myself into oblivion.
I've done that before... the eating into oblivion thing -- eating to numb the pain and to create a food-induced form of chemical unconsciousness. I don't want to go there again. Getting healthy, fit, and looking good is too much fun.
During the past 24 hours,running into acquaintances at restaurants and stores, I've been told:
" You look GREAT!" (Weird, this is the first thing almost everybody exclaims.)
"You look 20 years younger"
"You look healthy and happy"
"Seeing you like this has made my day!"
"Look at you! Love seeing you wearing makeup and jewelry!"
"HOW MUCH WEIGHT HAVE YOU LOST?!!!"
"You look marvelous."
"Lynna, is that you? I wasn't sure if that was you?"
"You have beautiful eyes. They really show up now."
"You seem so grounded and balanced."
I've had people in the past week go out of their way to send me messages (facebook and even a greeting card in the mail) remarking on how wonderful I look. It's pretty amazing stuff. Even more amazing, I agree with them. I know I am looking really good and know I am feeling even better. I feel a sense of power, accomplishment, and well-being knowing that I am taking care of myself and I'm getting healthier and stronger every day.
In the midst of the circumstances of my life (the good, the bad, and the ugly), it's comfortingly solid to have a sense that I do have some control over my well being and that I can affect some changes for the better.
Okay. I feel better. Don't feel quite the urge to call Domino's for the stuffed crust pizza that's been calling my name like a tantalizing lover. Nustep: It's you and me tonight, babe. Sorry for being so lukewarm about our date. You may not be as sexy or exciting as pepperoni and sausage, but you are true-blue and I'm glad to have you. Let's get this party started...
Actually, there is something that's grabbed my attention. For the first time in four months, I'm having food cravings. Good thing there's nothing in the house, or I would be hip deep in pizza, cheesecake, chips and sour cream dip, chocolate chip cookies, lasagna... well, you get the idea. WHERE DID THIS COME FROM? Here I am minding my own business, happily munching a stalk of celery and preparing to settle in for a good workout on my Nustep, and BOOM! all these old food longings have reared their vicious, ugly heads.
Part of my journey towards wellness is to try to understand myself better,to understand how I use food in ways other than sustenance, and to learn healthier behaviors and emotional responses to life besides self-medicating with food.
Perhaps the past couple of weeks are catching up with me. I've had some pretty major highs and lows emotionally. Amazing adventures coupled with surprising defeats. Right now, I'd like to curl up on the couch with a giant bowl of ice cream smothered in chocolate syrup and whipped cream and just eat myself into oblivion.
I've done that before... the eating into oblivion thing -- eating to numb the pain and to create a food-induced form of chemical unconsciousness. I don't want to go there again. Getting healthy, fit, and looking good is too much fun.
During the past 24 hours,running into acquaintances at restaurants and stores, I've been told:
" You look GREAT!" (Weird, this is the first thing almost everybody exclaims.)
"You look 20 years younger"
"You look healthy and happy"
"Seeing you like this has made my day!"
"Look at you! Love seeing you wearing makeup and jewelry!"
"HOW MUCH WEIGHT HAVE YOU LOST?!!!"
"You look marvelous."
"Lynna, is that you? I wasn't sure if that was you?"
"You have beautiful eyes. They really show up now."
"You seem so grounded and balanced."
I've had people in the past week go out of their way to send me messages (facebook and even a greeting card in the mail) remarking on how wonderful I look. It's pretty amazing stuff. Even more amazing, I agree with them. I know I am looking really good and know I am feeling even better. I feel a sense of power, accomplishment, and well-being knowing that I am taking care of myself and I'm getting healthier and stronger every day.
In the midst of the circumstances of my life (the good, the bad, and the ugly), it's comfortingly solid to have a sense that I do have some control over my well being and that I can affect some changes for the better.
Okay. I feel better. Don't feel quite the urge to call Domino's for the stuffed crust pizza that's been calling my name like a tantalizing lover. Nustep: It's you and me tonight, babe. Sorry for being so lukewarm about our date. You may not be as sexy or exciting as pepperoni and sausage, but you are true-blue and I'm glad to have you. Let's get this party started...
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
A Little Green Around the Gills But Loving the Journey
Life can be so unexpected. A little over a week ago, I was on a major career-path toward a lucrative and influential position in the publishing business and had an opportunity to do some significant good in the world. I was going to be co-editing a book with a "rockstar" and the horizons looked golden.
In an instant, reading an email sent to tell me that it didn't seem to be working out, the skies filled with ominous, black and ugly clouds and the smooth sailing turned, once again, into, "batten down the hatches and prepare to be tossed by fate's sea so violently that you puke" turbulence. Adrift in the storm, once again.
Maybe I'm getting better at sailing, but instead of hunkering down in my cabin with my head poised over the slop bucket, I've tossed on my yellow rain slicker, carefully fastened my life jacket, and I'm standing on deck with the rain pelting my face and the lightning crackling all around, riding the wild waves and with triumph on my face, I'm exclaiming to the wind, "I will NOT be beaten down. I am strong. I am courageous."
If the ship goes down, it's going down with me LIVING to the fullest. It's going down with me raising my arms in victory to the sky and proclaiming that I will NOT be derailed by unkindness and untruths. With my hair whipping like ropes against my face and with water cascading down my cheeks, looking somewhat wild-eyed and a little frightening, I shout into the furor and the din, "I am magnificent. I am loved. AND I WILL NOT LIE DOWN AND I WILL NOT BE QUIET!" I will ride this storm and I will look forward with breathless anticipation and surprise to the destination and direction the wind blows the vessel. The wind blows where it will blow and I am triumphantly calm in the storm knowing that God is the Captain, the anchor is strong, and adventures await. What seems like a storm may really be the wind taking me to the destination for which I've been created.
In an instant, reading an email sent to tell me that it didn't seem to be working out, the skies filled with ominous, black and ugly clouds and the smooth sailing turned, once again, into, "batten down the hatches and prepare to be tossed by fate's sea so violently that you puke" turbulence. Adrift in the storm, once again.
Maybe I'm getting better at sailing, but instead of hunkering down in my cabin with my head poised over the slop bucket, I've tossed on my yellow rain slicker, carefully fastened my life jacket, and I'm standing on deck with the rain pelting my face and the lightning crackling all around, riding the wild waves and with triumph on my face, I'm exclaiming to the wind, "I will NOT be beaten down. I am strong. I am courageous."
If the ship goes down, it's going down with me LIVING to the fullest. It's going down with me raising my arms in victory to the sky and proclaiming that I will NOT be derailed by unkindness and untruths. With my hair whipping like ropes against my face and with water cascading down my cheeks, looking somewhat wild-eyed and a little frightening, I shout into the furor and the din, "I am magnificent. I am loved. AND I WILL NOT LIE DOWN AND I WILL NOT BE QUIET!" I will ride this storm and I will look forward with breathless anticipation and surprise to the destination and direction the wind blows the vessel. The wind blows where it will blow and I am triumphantly calm in the storm knowing that God is the Captain, the anchor is strong, and adventures await. What seems like a storm may really be the wind taking me to the destination for which I've been created.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Healing for the Heart
I did something yesterday that I never thought I would do in this lifetime... I googled my first love's name (we were 18 when I knew him... ancient history), learned that he has his own law firm, and here's the daring part, I emailed him.
Not only did I email him, but I was transparent about my disability and the bumps and bruises I've endured along life's journey. Until recently, when I thought about old boyfriends, the thought of running into them was terrifying. I didn't want them to know how close they came to being saddled with a woman with a disability had things progressed in our relationships towards matrimony.
My old flame was sweet as pie. Although he's happily married, we shared a few email exchanges wherein we reminisced about the tender romance we had shared, asked one another for forgiveness for our lack of maturity and the mistakes we made that hurt one another, congratulated ourselves for turning out to be fairly decent human beings, and for a couple of emails, remembered what it felt like to be 18, foolish and in love.
It was tender, and I very much got the sense that he didn't give a second thought to my disability as a detractant. If anything, he was admiring of how I've lived my life. Rather than being relieved that he dodged the bullet, I got the sense that were we both single, the old flame could be fanned. We both agreed that while it had been lovely to reconnect, it wouldn't be wise to continue corresponding.
He broke my heart at 18. In a few sweet and tender emails over a 24 hour period, we returned to that long-ago time, and found healing and closure. The almost magical gift of a few brief exchanges: I find myself looking at the world with an 18 year-old's eyes... full of hope, expectancy, and unlimited possibilities. It's pretty cool to have the outlook of an 18 year-old coupled with the wisdom of an almost 50 year-old.
Thank you, Scott. Love, Me
Not only did I email him, but I was transparent about my disability and the bumps and bruises I've endured along life's journey. Until recently, when I thought about old boyfriends, the thought of running into them was terrifying. I didn't want them to know how close they came to being saddled with a woman with a disability had things progressed in our relationships towards matrimony.
My old flame was sweet as pie. Although he's happily married, we shared a few email exchanges wherein we reminisced about the tender romance we had shared, asked one another for forgiveness for our lack of maturity and the mistakes we made that hurt one another, congratulated ourselves for turning out to be fairly decent human beings, and for a couple of emails, remembered what it felt like to be 18, foolish and in love.
It was tender, and I very much got the sense that he didn't give a second thought to my disability as a detractant. If anything, he was admiring of how I've lived my life. Rather than being relieved that he dodged the bullet, I got the sense that were we both single, the old flame could be fanned. We both agreed that while it had been lovely to reconnect, it wouldn't be wise to continue corresponding.
He broke my heart at 18. In a few sweet and tender emails over a 24 hour period, we returned to that long-ago time, and found healing and closure. The almost magical gift of a few brief exchanges: I find myself looking at the world with an 18 year-old's eyes... full of hope, expectancy, and unlimited possibilities. It's pretty cool to have the outlook of an 18 year-old coupled with the wisdom of an almost 50 year-old.
Thank you, Scott. Love, Me
Monday, November 8, 2010
Arresting Entropy
My sister jump-started my fitness quest last January. She hooked the jumper cables to my battery and revved the gas pedal and gave me a super-charge that continues to this day.
She arrived on New Year's Eve with my precious 4 year-old niece for a short visit to celebrate the holiday season and to have some family time.
Somehow, that short visit, intended to be a few days, extended to several weeks... and what amazing weeks they were.
My sister, seeing the disorder of my life and my household, set about organizing and cleaning. She would get up early, get to work, and not quit until late at night... some days not even changing out of her pjs! She was possessed. By the end of her visit, there was not a baseboard, heating vent, appliance or cranny in my entire house that had not received her magical cleaning touch.
She organized EVERY SINGLE STINKIN' ITEM in my ENTIRE house. I kid you not... one day I put a paper clip in the wrong place and she POUNCED on it to put it in the designated spot. We shopped for lovely organizing bins (I have an addiction for organizing bins!)and created closets and cabinets worthy of Martha Stewart. She MADE me go through my clothing and we took a truckload of clothes to Goodwill. (Haven't missed one single item!) More painful, she MADE me go through my books and divest myself of enough that the remainder would fit on my bookshelves. (We survived a little turbulent conflict over the books, and it was good.)
She cleaned mold out from under my kitchen sink. She turned cabinet doors on their hinges so they would open for better wheelchair access. She organized my toiletries so I would have smooth access to a better grooming system. She boxed up Christmas decorations and stored them where I would be able to access them this year without having somebody retrieve them from the basement. She scolded me for not doing a better job keeping my house tidy on a daily basis. In short, she helped me think through my life and sought to give me more control over my environment so I could enjoy living more and would hopefully be able to maintain order.
On day two of her cleaning/organizing frenzy, I jokingly told her that for every hour she worked, I would repay her by exercising faithfully for one month on my Nustep. (I didn't know when I said that that she would stay almost to the end of January, and I would owe her that "payment" well into my Senior years!)
Well, little sister, I haven't done a splendid job maintaining the order you created out of the chaos (although it remains TONS better than before), but I will tell you that the gift you gave me continues unabated to this day and the sense of well-being of having received such an amazing gift of grace and love and selflessness from you continues to propel me forward with taking care of me. You're battle and victory over the entropy of my house gave me encouragement to battle the entropy of my health/body.
Even though the paperclips might be in the wrong drawer and dog hair might be accumulating under the refrigerator since then, the re-ordering of ME continues on a wonderful path. Thank you, thank you, thank you, a million times, thank you! Love, From your Sister Who Adores You and Loves You and is Grateful for You! (Just don't mess with my books!)
She arrived on New Year's Eve with my precious 4 year-old niece for a short visit to celebrate the holiday season and to have some family time.
Somehow, that short visit, intended to be a few days, extended to several weeks... and what amazing weeks they were.
My sister, seeing the disorder of my life and my household, set about organizing and cleaning. She would get up early, get to work, and not quit until late at night... some days not even changing out of her pjs! She was possessed. By the end of her visit, there was not a baseboard, heating vent, appliance or cranny in my entire house that had not received her magical cleaning touch.
She organized EVERY SINGLE STINKIN' ITEM in my ENTIRE house. I kid you not... one day I put a paper clip in the wrong place and she POUNCED on it to put it in the designated spot. We shopped for lovely organizing bins (I have an addiction for organizing bins!)and created closets and cabinets worthy of Martha Stewart. She MADE me go through my clothing and we took a truckload of clothes to Goodwill. (Haven't missed one single item!) More painful, she MADE me go through my books and divest myself of enough that the remainder would fit on my bookshelves. (We survived a little turbulent conflict over the books, and it was good.)
She cleaned mold out from under my kitchen sink. She turned cabinet doors on their hinges so they would open for better wheelchair access. She organized my toiletries so I would have smooth access to a better grooming system. She boxed up Christmas decorations and stored them where I would be able to access them this year without having somebody retrieve them from the basement. She scolded me for not doing a better job keeping my house tidy on a daily basis. In short, she helped me think through my life and sought to give me more control over my environment so I could enjoy living more and would hopefully be able to maintain order.
On day two of her cleaning/organizing frenzy, I jokingly told her that for every hour she worked, I would repay her by exercising faithfully for one month on my Nustep. (I didn't know when I said that that she would stay almost to the end of January, and I would owe her that "payment" well into my Senior years!)
Well, little sister, I haven't done a splendid job maintaining the order you created out of the chaos (although it remains TONS better than before), but I will tell you that the gift you gave me continues unabated to this day and the sense of well-being of having received such an amazing gift of grace and love and selflessness from you continues to propel me forward with taking care of me. You're battle and victory over the entropy of my house gave me encouragement to battle the entropy of my health/body.
Even though the paperclips might be in the wrong drawer and dog hair might be accumulating under the refrigerator since then, the re-ordering of ME continues on a wonderful path. Thank you, thank you, thank you, a million times, thank you! Love, From your Sister Who Adores You and Loves You and is Grateful for You! (Just don't mess with my books!)
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
"Stop Dissin' My Best Work!"
What an interesting week I've had. I've been working at my church in a sales position to assist members in previewing proofs and purchasing portrait packages as part of our church directory project.
After the shots are taken, folks come into an adjoining classroom where I click on their proofs which appear as images on a large computer monitor.
All this time, I thought I hated to see my image in the mirror or on film because I was overweight and/or disabled. (Until recently, that is. Lately, I've grown a little too enamored with gazing in the mirror, but I digress.)
We've taken photos of about 75 families, and I have heard only ONE woman who was self-complimentary. EVERYBODY else, especially the women, but also the men, have been incredibly negative about their photos.
"Look at all those chins!"
"I had no idea I had all these wrinkles!"
"Why didn't I get my hair done first?"
"Why did I get my hair permed this morning?"
"My teeth are yellow!"
"I look so old!(or fat)"
"My hair is really getting (thin, gray)!"
"Look at those bags under my eyes!"
"Oh my, look at my lazy eye!"
I sit there clicking on the thumbnails, and I see something very different. Get out! Don't you see what I see? Don't you see how lovely you are? Don't you see that you are beautiful? How can you possibly not find this image pleasing?
It led me to think about God having to hear our negative self-talk day in and day out. I picture him scolding us (in my mind, I hear a thick Brooklyn accent): "Hey you! Yeh! You! I'm talkin to you! What the hells the matter whichya? You're dissin MY work? You don't like what I'VE created?"
God's got a point. He says we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Who are we to say otherwise? Why do we think that our opinion (or other peoples' opinions) are truth? Who are we to say that wrinkles, blemishes, signs of aging, disabilities, etc. are "ugly".
I want one person, just one person, to come into that preview room and exclaim, "Look how lovely I am! God sure created a masterpiece when God created me!" (And the less that person is Madison Avenue beautiful, the more my heart will soar that they "get it"!")
We don't honor God, ourselves, or anybody else when we are negatively critical about our appearances. It just fosters and perpetuates the lies.
I'm choosing to live in the truth that I am beautiful. Somebody lovely to behold. My God sings and dances in delight over me. And you. And you. And yes, you.
It's a choice. Choose to believe. (Easy for me to say. I haven't had to face that computer monitor and judge my appearance. I so hope I am able to be one of the people who sees herself through God's eyes.)
After the shots are taken, folks come into an adjoining classroom where I click on their proofs which appear as images on a large computer monitor.
All this time, I thought I hated to see my image in the mirror or on film because I was overweight and/or disabled. (Until recently, that is. Lately, I've grown a little too enamored with gazing in the mirror, but I digress.)
We've taken photos of about 75 families, and I have heard only ONE woman who was self-complimentary. EVERYBODY else, especially the women, but also the men, have been incredibly negative about their photos.
"Look at all those chins!"
"I had no idea I had all these wrinkles!"
"Why didn't I get my hair done first?"
"Why did I get my hair permed this morning?"
"My teeth are yellow!"
"I look so old!(or fat)"
"My hair is really getting (thin, gray)!"
"Look at those bags under my eyes!"
"Oh my, look at my lazy eye!"
I sit there clicking on the thumbnails, and I see something very different. Get out! Don't you see what I see? Don't you see how lovely you are? Don't you see that you are beautiful? How can you possibly not find this image pleasing?
It led me to think about God having to hear our negative self-talk day in and day out. I picture him scolding us (in my mind, I hear a thick Brooklyn accent): "Hey you! Yeh! You! I'm talkin to you! What the hells the matter whichya? You're dissin MY work? You don't like what I'VE created?"
God's got a point. He says we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Who are we to say otherwise? Why do we think that our opinion (or other peoples' opinions) are truth? Who are we to say that wrinkles, blemishes, signs of aging, disabilities, etc. are "ugly".
I want one person, just one person, to come into that preview room and exclaim, "Look how lovely I am! God sure created a masterpiece when God created me!" (And the less that person is Madison Avenue beautiful, the more my heart will soar that they "get it"!")
We don't honor God, ourselves, or anybody else when we are negatively critical about our appearances. It just fosters and perpetuates the lies.
I'm choosing to live in the truth that I am beautiful. Somebody lovely to behold. My God sings and dances in delight over me. And you. And you. And yes, you.
It's a choice. Choose to believe. (Easy for me to say. I haven't had to face that computer monitor and judge my appearance. I so hope I am able to be one of the people who sees herself through God's eyes.)
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