Couldn’t find a notebook

A few random thoughts.

183 daysI’m going to restart this streak. I’ve been “logging in” but not logging any food for about a week or more now. I’m also stalled on my weight loss. These two things are not unrelated.

I want to start counting my calories weekly instead of daily. For several months I’ve been drinking 1/2 a gallon of milk a week, and some weeks I finish it on Tuesday and some weeks I finish it Sunday morning before I go grocery shopping. But I only allow myself one half gallon every week. I feel like this could work for other things, like chocolate chips. And sardines. Until I figure out how I want to do this, I’m going to go back to daily logging and eating the things that are good for me.

I ran on Saturday. I ran and I walked. I walk/ran to the track, and then I did a few laps at the track that I would run the straights and walk the curves, and then when my hip started to bother me, I stopped and I walked home. It was a lot of fun. The first half of the laps I did, I just jogged the straights. The second half I sprinted them. I think that might be what bothered my hip. It was fun anyway. There was a woman there who was running so much faster than me, and only once stopping to walk. It was amazing. I want to be like her someday. At one point she came up and I started running just as she was about to lap me for the 4th or 5th time. I wonder if she thought that I thought we were racing. She would be right. In my head we were racing. But she was winning.

I want to do that again tonight, but I am planning on just walking and talking with my sister, and running after if I feel like it.

I want to find someone who has hiked Tunk Mountain so they can tell me about it. I want to do it, and then I want to swim afterwards, because this sounds like a lot of fun.

I can’t wait to go back to the weight room. I am having so much fun lifting. Running is a halfway decent substitute when I can’t get three days of lifting in, but I’d always rather be lifting, no matter what I’m doing.



A couple links to fill the time

I Came to be Awesome, Not Skinny

Here’s the thing, I don’t want to be skinny anymore. Over the last few months, I’ve come to the realization that I just don’t care what my body looks like. I care slightly more about what it can do and how it can feel, but I’m fine with how it looks right now. Even if I am now 235.

Even “what it can do” is not a priority for me right now. I suck at Crossfit. I’ve always sucked at it and I keep going anyway because it’s addicting and good for me, but I’m absolutely terrible. I don’t think I’ll ever Rx (except on the non-scalable ones like we had the other day, 5 min Air-Dyne for cals), I don’t think I’ll ever get a pull up, I don’t think I’ll ever do a handstand, but I don’t care.

So on that note, how appropriate is today’s A Softer World?

I shouldn’t forget

I can’t spend all my blogging energy on the things I do wrong. I can’t just come here when I feel like beating myself up. I have to share my successes, too. Today’s successes came in two parts.

1. We have a beautiful pizza sitting on the stove waiting for the cheese to set. I feel like, even if I’m a screw up when it comes to a lot of stuff (money, my nutrition and exercise, housework, maintaining friendships), and even the stuff I’m pretty good at I just don’t want to do at all (my job), at least if I can make food that is REAL it’s better than just sitting in this depressed funk that I’ve been wallowing in.

2. We figured out how our joint checking account is going to work. Going in to this I thought I had the best plan, but after relenting to trying Nate’s idea first and then reevaluating, I realize that actually his plan is better. And that sounds so hypnotized 50s housewife to say, but it’s true, I was wrong about this one. That’s one thing that’s good about money discussions, is that there can be a clear “winner” and no hurt feelings.

I feel like I’ll never be perfect, but while I’ve spent the last six months coming to grips with the reality of that statement, it’s not until I give up on the desire FOR a perfectly executed life that I’ll be even able to find happiness and contentment in the one I have.

I’ll never look like Camille or any of the girls at my gym, but I can look better than I do. I’ll never be able to sustain clean eating all the time, but my family won’t starve eating edible poison like Hamburger Helper and Velveeta. I’ll never be able to go back in time and invite the people to my wedding that should have been there, but I’ll always remember the people who were able to come.

My brain and my heart are kind of mixed up right now. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I’ll just try to be gentler with myself and not analyze what I SHOULD be feeling and try to learn to just feel it.

Feeling good

I don’t know much, but I know I’m having fun. I know that crap in=crap out, but right now I’m doing okay. Sure I probably won’t get a pullup as long as I keep gaining weight, but I got on the scale tonight and laughed when it went up again for the 489473th day in a row. No, I don’t know. I don’t care! I just get on the thing out of habit. But it made me laugh today because … well, I don’t know why. It’s ridiculous. I actually catch myself going back to look in mirrors or study my shadow. I like the way I look. I like the feeling of pushing my body to go further – to do more – to keep moving – to just DO and that is completely separate now from the feeling of inadequacy that I’ve felt for…ever.

Abs are made in the kitchen but so is bread and love and joy.

It’s okay. I’m okay.

Maybe tomorrow I will shave my legs. Maybe not.

Long time, no blog

I guess I could fill you in on what’s been going on in my life, but I’m not going to bother. Suffice it to say I had to spend a month or two making my body feel as shitty all over as I felt inside. You’re not going to grow a baby? Fine! What good are you then! Have another fucking bagel! Et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseum

Whatevs. I got my fire back. Doesn’t matter that I let it get down to the tiniest ember before realizing what I was doing and adding fuel and nursing it back to life.

I’m still working on getting back to my prepregnancy strength levels but that will come in time. I’m nearly there already.

I feel like I’d get further in my workouts if I was a better breather. There are times I realize that I’ve only been running a couple laps and I’m already hyperventilating, or I’ll have to stop lifting just to catch my breath. This definitely stops me more often than, say, my grip strength or dizziness. I happened to catch this article on Runner’s World the other day and it had some suggestions, but it made me realize I’d been giving people advice on how to strengthen their breath for years: singing. Talk about breath control! So I’m joining the community chorus this fall. I’ve wanted to do it for a while, but this gives me the push I needed. I haven’t sung since high school, so I’m kind of excited about it, and I really want to know experimentally if it helps. Who knows, maybe I’ll end up the singing crossfitter 😛

I needed to see this today

This made its way to my eyeballs today.

I’ve been struggling with motivation. I can’t even finish any of the three posts I’ve started to try to work out what my issue is.

In no particular order:

I don’t want to be a fatass.
I’m embarrassed to tell people I do Crossfit because I don’t want them to judge Crossfit on my fatassery (especially if they know/ask how long I’ve been doing it).
I don’t like trusting what my body is telling me about my pregnancy in every respect but one (that Crossfit had nothing to do with my loss).
I want to look nice in my wedding dress, and I hate that it matters to me.
I love my body, and all its lumps and wrinkles.
I hate the frustration of not being able to do the things asked of me. I hate that I’m not getting stronger.

Some of those things are compounded by/caused by my schedule not affording me the chance to get to the gym when there are classes. But I have no more foreseeable conflicts, so what will happen when I don’t have that excuse? I don’t know.

Giving up vs putting on hold

Some of you may know that it’s been my dream for several years now to become a midwife. It would be a huge commitment for me to switch careers like that. I’d have to spend three years without a job (while still maintaining a household), working on my midwifery degree and getting enough clinical hours to sit for my CPM. I also have to be sure not to get pregnant in the program, so while it would have been great for me to do this right after high school if I’d known such a thing existed, I instead must choose, do I want to wait another 3+ years to have kids, or do I want to put off midwifery school for a while until the maybe-someday kids are older? And I knew I didn’t want to wait any longer to have kids than I have to, so we decided I’d doula for a while and get the feel for it, and then re-evaluate after we were done making kids. After the last week and a half on call for a client as her doula, I have decided that I am just not capable at this time in my life to handle being on call for 24 hours a day for weeks at a time. I was getting stircrazy not being able to be more than an hour from my house. I was getting mad at Nate for stupid stuff (and I think it was driving him crazy as well — we’ve missed the only good chances to go to camp for this summer, and we’re going to be forced to open it up rain or shine this coming weekend. I’m going to have to be very careful not to complain to him about it if the weather’s awful). And that’s just doula-ing. I’d have the same call schedule as a midwife and the pressure of owning a business that my living depends on — and with any luck, with kids that depend on my living as well.

So I’m giving up on doula-ing. And while I’ll admit that I am sleep deprived (I woke yesterday morning around seven and got sleep from 8 am this morning until about noon), this isn’t a decision I’ve only just come to. I’m just not capable of it right now, and I know enough about me to start thinking about midwifery not being my someday-backup-plan. *sigh* They say if you find a job you love, you’ll never work a day in your life. I think in another life, midwifery could have been that for me, but now I have to go back to finding a job I love. I don’t dislike my day job now, but it doesn’t move me, you know? I should just count my blessings that I’m secure enough to fantasize about a second career, and nothing depends on my decisions (or lack thereof).

But it still kind of stings to say goodbye to something even when it’s not a good fit.

I don’t know what to do

I tried going back to the box tonight.

“Tried” being the operative word.

I’ve been wanting to go back so much. I miss the people there. I miss feeling the ache in my body when I’ve used my muscles. I miss the smell of the rubber mats and bumper plates. I miss the music. Today someone asked me about being pregnant and I had to break the news to him that I wasn’t anymore, and I said, “But look, I am okay. I have had wonderful people helping me, it wasn’t a good time to be pregnant, there are many worse things that could have happened, and I’m thankful that you were asking about my baby. Someday, it’ll work out, but this time it didn’t. I’m okay. And thanks for asking.” And I really thought, after saying that, that I was ready. So after work, I went to the gym.

I did a 400m run and rolled out some, and then … I sobbed. As I ran, I kept feeling my water break again. As I rolled out and listened to the previous class finish their WOD, I kept thinking about how I’m not strong enough and how I broke my baby by trying to be something I’m not: an athlete.

Everyone has told me how miscarriages aren’t caused by exercise, but the more I hear it, the more I don’t believe them. There’s a little voice inside me that says, “They’re just saying that so you don’t stop exercising, because you’re so fat.”

I hate that voice.

But still, I wonder if I over did it. I wonder if I let myself get dehydrated or I let my blood pressure get too high.

And logically, I know that even if I did those things, well, I’m not pregnant anymore, so I should just get over it and be more careful and do better next time. And I should use Crossfit to get myself in even better shape for my next pregnancy. But at the same time, I just don’t know if I can. I don’t want to quit, I don’t want to be a quitter. But I also don’t know how to go back. I want to be healthy and strong and nothing else has worked, but I just hate the thought that I did this, I caused this with this activity that I used to love so much.

I think I probably need to take a break from Crossfit for a while, but I also think that I should try again before I quit for sure. But I also don’t know what I’d do instead, and I don’t know how to go back. I’m stuck in limbo.

Maybe it’s the drugs talking

I was in a bad place this morning. I had a bad night of bleeding the night before and I lost what seemed like a lot of blood. About 3 hours of soaking pads every 20-30 minutes until it finally let up around 1 am. I called my doctor’s answering service after the first hour and the only practitioner in their office I hadn’t met yet called me back. She gave me the warning signs for when to come back in to the ER and some things I could do to help it ease up. I finally let myself go to sleep when I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to bleed out (AKA when I didn’t care about how many times I should get up to change my pad – I’ve long since given up on not making a mess on my clothes or sheets or bed. It’s like a crimescene in our room). Suffice it to say I didn’t get a lot of rest last night.

In the morning the doctor’s office called my house to tell me they’d called a prescription in and Nate picked it up for me when he went in to work for an hour (he’s been here with me the whole time, and I know he just wants to get back to normal, so I’m so grateful. I don’t know how I’d do this without him). But I knew before he left that I was feeling sick. I was achy and my throat was sore and my ears were rushing like I was about to pass out. I chalked it up to being dehydrated from bleeding so much for so long the night before. But eventually I decided to take my temperature, and it was above the level they warned me at the ER so I called the office and they had me come in.  I met with the doctor I’d spoken with the night before and she did an ultrasound. She agreed that it was probably — or at least possibly — just a cold I could have caught in the ER waiting room that was causing my fever, but combined with the fact that there was still tissue in my uterus, she thought it would be safer if I had a D&C and just clean it out and be done with it.
I was not prepared to do that consciously and opted for general anesthesia. I get that they probably thought I was being unreasonable and childish for not being able to cope (not that they let on in any way, but just because it’s the kind of thing I’d think about my own patients on a bad day). But I don’t fucking care. I was not going to do that and have to be awake for it. So maybe this post is a bit foggy or disorganized, but that was only a few hours ago. I can’t be left alone or make any financial decisions for a while, so my night is a clean slate now. I might as well blog my feeeeelings, right?
I’m not sure if it was the antibiotics or the procedure itself, if it was a physical change or just a mental one, but I feel so much better now that it’s out and the light is at the end of the tunnel. I know I’ll still be bleeding for a few more days at the very least, but I don’t have to deal with thoughts like, “What if there’s a lot left in there to go?”. If this is just a cold I’m coming down with, at least I’ll be better equipped to deal with it.
It’s a lot easier to think about the good things again, and not get all stupid face about the hard things. Obviously I’m sad about the hard things, but I can’t think about them right now. I need to think about going to Brewfest in August. I need to think about training for Tough Mountain and my first Crossfit competition. I need to think about planning an awesome wedding and I need to be thankful that I don’t have to work on that awful baby registry anymore. I hated that chore! And I hated being tired all the time! And hungry! I hated not fitting into my jeans anymore, not because of baby but because I couldn’t say no to doughnuts. I hated not feeling like my body was my own anymore, I felt like a woman possessed. Or at least infected. I had a parasite making me hate the healthful foods I’d grown to tolerate in the last year and crave the ones I finally gave up. My friend craved beer and cigarettes her entire pregnancy. I was lucky, at least my poisons were socially acceptable. But I hated the feeling I’d get when I’d give in to them.
I loved the idea of being pregnant, before I got pregnant. Then once I was, I felt trapped. I said for so long that that was what I wanted, and then I felt like I shouldn’t complain when it wasn’t everything I imagined it would be. Not that I didn’t complain, but I wondered if people thought worse of me for doing it. Or if they were laughing at me for wanting it so bad in the first place. Or just annoyed with me for being such a whiner or probably acting like I was the first woman alive to ever get pregnant.
I feel like I’m so much better prepared for my next pregnancy. I’ll be better at being pregnant next time. I’ll be better at managing a miscarriage next time. I’ll be better at being a mother when it’s time. I’ll be better.
I’m going to be sad for a while, and it’s going to hit me at the most inopportune times, but I’m going to be okay. I feel like I have a clarity that I couldn’t have this morning. Maybe it’s the drugs. Maybe it’s my womb talking to me again. But I just hope I can hang on to this peace for a while longer. I asked my doctor if I could just have one day without feeling emotionally or physically hurting, even if it meant having a few more bad days in the long run. She chuckled and said she would if she could, but I feel like somehow, she did. I’d like to thank her for at least giving me this evening.
But I’m going to try not to analyze it too much. I’m going to be grateful that I’m okay tonight, and I’m going to savor it, hoping that it sticks around but prepared for if it doesn’t.
I couldn’t have done this by myself. I couldn’t have coped without my words. I’m grateful for the physical help I’ve gotten from my flesh friends and family, but I’m also so so grateful to my social media friends for sharing their stories with me and encouraging me to say what I needed to say. I wouldn’t have the strength I have if I’d been trying to process these emotions alone.