A PICTURE OF MY SUGAR BABYI think I have a problem with anxiety. I suppose knowing you have a problem and dealing with that problem makes it entirely different than people walking around doing nothing and waiting for others to revolve around their issues. I know, however, that I spend wonderful beautiful days off with my husband, but usually, at some point, like today, there is an anxiety thing.
We both want to get in shape. I talk about it daily, and my husband never brings it up. But we both weigh in on Monday mornings, and he is currently sitting next to me, assembling a weight bench, which looks like the building of the taj mahal for some reason. He does this quietly, and would rather I not ask him about it.
When I was in NYC, I worked out all the time. I LOVE exercise. I mean--I don't know when it started, but I just love to move. I love to hike, I love gyms, I love walking for hours, swimming, weights, aerobics. It's crazy how much i love it. But I do not like eating less. I like to eat a lot, and move a lot. And in my case this meant I was an overweight woman in NYC without any health problems. In my case I can exercise like crazy--my clothing size will go down, but the scale will not.
So two years ago I left NYC. I left my 5th floor walkup, I left my gym at work, I left my lonely life where I had tons of time to exercise and replaced it with movie rentals and endless couch snuggling, and ice cream sundaes. And I put on 30 pounds. Love will do that to you. Then I got married. And pregnant. I assumed I would be relatively infertile (for no reason whatsoever) and guess what? That is not true at all. So I was pregnant, and having lots of problems, and diagnosed as a gestational diabetic at 18 weeks. THe same day I felt Stevie move. And I hated myself. It was reason to beat myself up for being fat, being lazy, not knowing every square inch of my health. I was protective during my pregnancy, kept the sugars under tight control, and gave myself...uh....5 injections a day, and pricked my fingers before and after every meal. I didn't eat pancakes. It sucked. I even had to have a fight with an on-call doctor who didn't believe anyone could take as much insulin as I had to (as if I would be lying about wanting more insulin???what's the street value on a drug that you can get without a prescription exactly?)
Pregnancy was HORRIBLE. It was so awful. I was miserable, I was sick all the time, dealing with sugar highs and lows, I had screaming carpal tunnel syndrome that kept me from sleeping. I had skin issues, lip issues, increased body hair. Unbelievable swelling. I am unrecognizable in the hospital pictures. Wow, just remembering it makes me want to cry a little.
I kept my weight from going up. Gained only 18 pounds. And then in the 36th week I suddenly gained 12 pounds from pre-eclampsia. I couldn't wear women's shoes. I was in the hospital over and over, and finally at home on bed rest, and then in the hospital for a c-section.
And the diabetes is still with me. Which brings me back to the health thing. Either Stevie put me "over the edge" or the last year of my changed lifestyle did. Either way, I am dead set on reversing it. I wish this were a logical decision and not an anxiety fest. Tye wants a treamill, I'm anxious about money. I need goals and lists, and motivational pictures, and, and, and ....I'll go out in the damn cold and walk for an hour if I have to, and I'm so mad about every ounce of weight, and why is my shirt fitting loosely and yet I'm only down a pound and why isn't he listening??? He is, but that's the anxiety talking to me. It always sounds like that in my head. Unfortunately, God help me, that doesn't go away with dieting.
I heard a woman say once that she had "comfort pockets" that she went into when life was overwhelming. And her favorite pocket was "I feel fat". She said her other pockets were so much harder to be in than the comfy, familiar self-abuse of 'i feel fat.' God, help me reconcile what that means for me. I need the reality of what I can change, with the awareness that self-abuse has never, and will never be a helpful tool, so much as a shackle, or a place to hide.
The diabetes numbers were nice and low today, by the way. whew.