Being me, healing

It’s been an interesting time for me recently. Not interesting in the greater scheme of things: my life is still beautifully boring and I’d like it to stay that way forever. Interesting in my world.

I have done multiple assembly projects:

  • My new home theater system: back to modular pieces!
  • My yoga trapeze stand
  • An art storage cart
  • A multi-tier dish-drying rack
  • Catio!

Why is this so interesting in my world? I have a lot of challenges with assembling things. This causes a lot of emotional volatility for me, which of course, makes it even harder to finalize the projects successfully.

Even things I have done successfully many times: like connecting up home theaters.

But this last month or two, I’ve assembled all these things – and only the catio with help (it’s a powder-coated dog kennel, it was a two-person job anyway, but very simple). The others I completed on my own.

This is a big deal. One of the results of the abuse that I endured was learned helplessness. And I had already learned to be helpless with regards to assemblies thanks to IKEA. (Rawr! I still won’t try to assemble IKEA furniture!).

I also have a low patience threshold with these things: I get frustrated quickly and easily.

But … my partner has been helping me with a ton of projects around the house, and they’re endlessly patient, cooperative, enabling,and helpful. They’re also an amazing teacher. And they listen to me and hear my suggestions and … turns out, I have some good ideas. Who knew?

So, now, when I buy something that does need assembly, I know I can get it together (except IKEA, never fucking trying that bullshit again). I go into it confidently. When I hit a snag, it doesn’t infuriate or upset me. It confuses the bejeebus out of me, and then I figure it out.

And I know if I do get truly stuck: I have the most amazing help 20 minutes away… or a FaceTime call. And that person is safe to ask for said help.

And most of this? I did during some incredibly hard EMDR reprocessing and an especially challenging cycle.

In fact… that 100lb lost mark?

… that was lost 2 days after hitting it. Over the course of this cycle I gained 14 lbs in 9 days. Shot back up to 172. I sure did.

So when shark week ended, I went ahead and engaged in a 48-hour fast and got back to eating healthy foods and tracking my calories. I’m back down to 159 now. Yes, I lost those 13lbs in about 5 days.

This is why I don’t worry about my PMS binges. I’ve been doing this now for a long time, I know how quickly the weight drops after my cycle.

It’s not true weight gain. I mean yes, I definitely had several 4000 calorie days in there, but it takes longer, sustained over-eating to truly gain weight. I’m ok with this. Mostly it was hormones, water, and salt causing retention. Also some chocolate cake, pizza, meatball grinder, and chocolate chip cookie dough, too. Oh and bagels w/ cream cheese.

I’m a food disaster sometimes, my friends. But it’s moderated by how well I eat (and don’t eat) the rest of the time.

Anyway. Transparency. I hope it helps some folks on their journey.

I’ll be back at the 100lb lost mark tomorrow.

My goal for May is to be solidly in the 150s, to get my set point low enough that a big day won’t throw me back in the 160s. 10 days left in May: easily on track to reach that goal.

I feel like I am finally finding myself again. Feeling “right” and safe in my own skin.

To finish, photo time!

100lbs lost

100.2lbs lost as of this morning.

My heaviest weight was 258.8 on October 7, 2010.

This morning I weighed 158.6.

It wasn’t ~12 years of effort. I got down to 185 or so last time, then I started dating. Being social was a big challenge for paleo and eating out, especially back then. I got back on track and got down to 176.4, then started to go up again.

I ended up involved in a very abusive relationship with two people. Over the following years, as I entered survival mode, I gained and gained weight. Those relationships fully ended, thankfully, in 2018.

But healing is stressful and painful, too, so I continued to gain, eventually getting up to 230lbs.

On December 30th, 2020, I happened down a rabbit hole about Intermittent Fasting, something I had been interested in years earlier – but “not eating” was “not allowed.” Simply not being hungry for breakfast had serious, punitive consequences for me. If you’ve been with a narcissist or another type of abuser, you might understand this level of control. I hope you have no idea wtf I’m talking about.

2018-2020 I tried to get back on to Paleo and failed miserably. What had been easy for me the first time seemed impossible now.

Back to December 30th, 2020. After watching YouTube videos from Dr. Fung and some random personal journies – I immediately started fasting with no other plan. It wasn’t until about a month later that I added CICO restrictions and ate more healthy and less processed food. I found fasting to be easy, even enjoyable. My brain fog cleared up, and I had more energy. Food was an easier decision. Life eas easier. Fasting is great! This has turned my life around and feels sustainable for the long-term: a natural fit.

MyFitnessPal says my start weight for this round was 230lbs, so 71.4lbs lost since December 30, 2020.

It’s been a heckin’ interesting ride, and my health journey continues. 

A Photo Journey

Homesick

Teenager. Green, gold. MUDs, EQ, and love.

And back, Red. White. Blue.

Blue? Me too. For some time.

Then school. A long, hard trawl. Success.

A new start, 3000 miles away. Precipitated changed. Planned.

Care. A new apartment, new friends, a beautiful town.

In love with this new place. Home.

102 houses. Super Bowl Sunday.

THE house.

A month later. My house.

Walk, touch, look. My house. Mine.

Independent, alone,

Success.

Comfort, love. Renovations. Make it mine.

CrossFit, health. 80lbs lost.

Love. The romantic kind.

10 years of isolation, unprepared.

Red flag.

Red flag.

RED FLAG.

Unprepared. Naive.

My home, my success, my power.

Targeted.

Love. With a fiction. Manipulated into believing fiction was truth.

Red flags. Everywhere.

That day, the names, the kitchens doors slamming.

Lost. Dazed. Confused.

Hands, shoulders, shook.

Water, was in the cup, now…

Dripping.

Years later.

Home. Mine. Changed.

Coerced into making it look and feel no longer MINE.

A move, fleeing. More fleeing. Mania of psych meds, unnoticed, or encouraged?

2 years, too much to think.

Suburbia gone. Country here.

Still mine but not mine.

Who am I?

A ghost.

Nothing.

Another new start. Back.

Snow.

A home. Beautiful home.

Mine and,

Not me.

Discomfort.

Pandemania.

Now. Missing.

What was mine. What was me.

My comfort, my home, my life, my independence.

What I worked for.

Discarded in the wake of evil.

Now, here. Be here now.

Sleeping in the brightness.

Awake in the dark.

Always cold.

Always.

So.

Cold.

Desolation, isolation, loss of hope.

Never mind happiness, but what about contentment?

Peace?

Homesick.

For the planned life I lived.

Homesick.

For the plans I made and discarded.

Trauma.

Homesick.

Will happiness come?

I am,

Who?

Lost.

Who am I?