Week 5: week 1 off Victoza, week 1 transformation

First week off of Victoza was not bad.  Appetite has not changed much.  I did hit 304, but I think it was fluid retention.  I also went over on my calories twice.  But again, hormones and beer.

Week was stressful.  My boss keeps making suicidal comments.  I cant deal with it.  I have my own mental issues.  I cannot handle other craziness.  Family issues are...insane as usual.

Work...is work.

Ambulance...same bullshit.

Maybe there is something for stability.

I tried a new program through Body Space.  First day I severely strained my pecs.  I even had bruises.  I tried to work out through it but took thursday and friday off from the gym.  Feels better with stretching.  I will try the program again from the beginning on monday.

I just wish I could sleep.

I did have 2 people tell me this week I look good.  So I need to use it as motivation instead of an excuse to binge.

Day 1 off Victoza

I was supposed to take my last Victoza shot today.  However, I got busy and forgot all about it. I went most of the day before I remembered.

So we will see how this works for 4 weeks off.  I lost 19lbs the first time, gained 12 back.  I lost 12 this time.  Hopefully, I wont gain any back.  It is summer (well, almost) and I am more active.  I just need to stay away from the alcohol and snacking.

I lost 56lbs without help.  I know I can do this.  I have to keep in mind why and how and be smart.

Week 4 and week 1 of gym

Week 4 of Victoza is done.  I have 1 or 2 more shots to finish the pen, then I am done.

This week has been rough.  Injuries to loved ones and a binge on Tuesday.  Actually, I almost had a car accident, but thankfully I was texting at the red light, and heard a weird noise.  So when my light turned green, I wasnt ready and watched some dumbass girl drive through the red light laughing.  It wasnt even a pink light.  It was red and had been!

Yesterday wasnt a binge.  I just didnt eat smart.  I even drank 2 cokes.  But it was OiTNB day!  I didnt go over too much on my calories.

I woke up wanting to binge, but I am going to fight this feeling.  I can continue on my path without the medicine.  I did it before, I can do it again.

Week 1 of the gym done.  Ankle and heel are very sore.  Shoulders are sore.  Basically everything is sore.  I will see how I feel tomorrow before I decide if I do another week of random workouts or if I go back on the transformation program.

Time to read some more. Get some sun and enjoy a break in life.

Binge #2 (6/14/16)

Had all kinds of anger and emotions today.  Hormones must be raging.

Binge binge binge.

Then tried to eat a snickers and now i feel horrible.

Extra cardio tomorrow.

The other secret

I have been thinking of my secrets.  The things I havent told anyone.

Lets see...

I smoked marijuana.  A couple times. Nothing major.  Most of my friends know, but not my family.

I have gone to a gay night club.  Male gay, for a party.  Nothing overly traumatic.

I have driven while drunk.

I used to cut.  Back in the days of the Dead Roomie.  She made me feel so horrible about myself.  Telling me how I was the worst thing to happen to her.  I lost control of my life and I cut my arms.  The feeling of the epidermal layer splitting along the edge of the knife...was orgasmic.  All my anger and pain was relieved for a few days.  As soon as she was out of my life, the knife never met my skin again.  I dont even miss it.

I slept with someone I just met.  Dead Roomie wanted to watch.  I couldnt do it.  Just eww.  Bad enough she was fucking her boyfriend in my bed.  Then, a few weeks later, sleeps with her girlfriend on the floor beside the sofa I was sleeping on. Just ewwwww!! A memory I wish I could forget!

There are probably more secrets.  I just cant think of them right now.

My other secret...

I am relatively calm as an adult.  As a child, I was not.  I am a true INFJ. 

As a child, I had an Irish temper. 

As a 10, or maybe 12 year old, I was so depressed.  I tried to commit suicide.  Tried.  Our basement was not finished. I was so angry and sad and alone.  I stood on a chair.  I tied a rope to the beam.  Tied a noose arund my neck.  Stepped toward the edge of the chair.  My right foot was off of the chair.  All I had to do was jump and the pain would be gone.

It was then that I felt something push me.  I had to step back onto the chair it pushed me so hard.  Then, I felt a wave of calm.  I felt "everything is going to work out".

It was Sam.  I was supposed to have a sister in this life.  Life happens and she didnt make it.  But she has always been with me.

I had seen her as a child.  Little glimpses.  Doorways in walls that were not there.  No, I am not crazy.

Sam has visited me many times.  Hopefully I find her in this life somewhere. 

I have told a few people about this.  They think I am crazy.

I am also embarrased about the letters I used to write to my BFF in middle school.  Writing has always been my thing.  My tool to let the crazy not be so bad. 

But we all do stupid things.  And that is ok.

My story

I dont have an abuse story.  At least not one I remember.

I am from a middle class family in the middle of no where.  From the time I was little, I remember being depressed.  I remember not being good enough.  Remember feeling alone.

Something or someone was missing.

I am an empath.  I now have a word for what I am and an understanding of what that word means.  I feel things.  I sense things.  On a level deeper than most people. 

Maybe that is my secret.  I am a witchy empath that hates being baptized Catholic.  I hate the guilt of being Catholic.  Nothing is ever good enough.  Nothing is right.  Being Catholic doesnt feel right and never did.

I remember going to church with my dad and his mother.  I remember at about age 5 or 6 staring around the inside of that building watching people listen to the crap that was being spouted.  And that is what I thought then, and still do.  It made no sense.  It didnt FEEL right.  It felt fake and like a bunch of lies.

But who could I tell?  Not my dad because that would be a disappointment.  Not my gma because...that would be a disappointment.  My mom understood.  She is the same as me. Or i am the same as her, only my abilities are honed more.

But still...that fear of disappointment remains.

Then my Gma died.  I watched her die of cancer.  She was in a hospital bed in my living room, staring into my room.  At 8 years old I understood pain.  I dont remember her talking much after her cancer diagnosis.  I just remember the pleading in her eyes.  The pleading of her energy.  She was miserable. 

She was in the hospital when she died.  That night, i busted my face against the freezer door.  I had to have an emergency visit at the dentist.  All was well.  I came home, took my shower, came out to look out the sliding glass door (which was my OCD pattern every night).  Mom was on the phone.  I knew then.  She told me gma died.  Gma was the first person I remember dying.

I remember the drive up Braddock Road to the hospital.  I remember not wanting to see Gma's dead body.  I waiting in the kitchenette area (in hopes of cookies and sodas).

Dad's sister came down and sat with me.  She looked me in the eye and asked, "Do you know why grandma died?".  I told her no, because at the time I didnt.  I had no idea what cancer was.  I just knew she hurt. 

Dad's sister (because I refuse to give her the title of aunt) looked at me and said, "because you didnt pray for her to get better".

I was floored.  Flabergasted.  My first thought was "how did she know?".  Did God tell her?  Am I that bad of person.  I didnt pray for her to get better.  I prayed and asked for her to be at peace and out of pain.

So, me being me, I decided I wasnt allowed to mourn my grandmother.  I was not going to cry.  I was not going to be upset.  Eventually, I did walk down the hallway and see her dead, lifeless body.

We went to gmas trailer.  It was weird being there.  My cousin was crying.  I started to cry as we came out of our favorite spot behind the trailer, between the tree and propane tank.  Then, I remembered, it was my fault.  Gma was gone because of me.  So I quit crying.

Then came the mandatory dress up.  I had no choice in what to wear.  The viewing was boring.  But I loved the old coke machine and the Werther's Originals.

The burial is in my head too.  My dearest Aunt (the only true aunt) was driving, i was shotgun.  Mom and Dad where in the back.  Dad was crying.  I remember watching them as we pulled into the cemetary.  I remember thinking, why is he so sad?  She is at peace now.  There is nothing to be sad about.  Keep in mind, I was 9.  I dont remember anything else of the burial.

I openly talk about this event.  I have no problem talking about it.  Except with dad's sister.  Part of me wants to talk to her.  So she know how much she hurt me.  How much that one statement affected me.  But, I dont want to give her that power. 

I have only recently started going to gma's grave.  It used to be I would wait in the car.  Still, all of these years later, I feel guilty. 

I HAVE NO GUILT!!  She is at peace.  The living should not carry this guilt.

I FORGIVE MYSELF FOR THINKING I HURT MY GRANDMOTHER.

I FORGIVE MYSELF FOR LETTING DAD'S SISTER WIN AND CONVINCE ME I HURT MY GRANDMOTHER

I FORGIVE MYSELF FOR NOT MOURNING MY GRANDMOTHER PROPERLY

I FORGIVE MYSELF FOR NOT BEING CATHOLIC

I FORGIVE MYSELF FOR BEING ME.

THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME BEING ME.

My 4 Excuses

I am reading "The Big Fat Truth" by JD Roth.  He has been the producer and inspirer on several of the weight loss shows.  I don't normally buy books or items related to these shows because the shows give a false sense of weight loss in my opinion.  But, this book jumped at me.  I figured what the hell. 

So far I like the book.  It focuses on the mental and emotional part of weight loss.  Or, in other words, why the hell I got into this mess in the first place.

First exercise:  4 reasons I am fat.  So here I go...

1. Family influence.  Half my family is morbidly obese.  Everything centered around food.  For some reason I always felt like I had to eat fast and as much as possible because there might not be any more food.  I asked my mom about it and she doesn't remember ever giving me that idea.  Maybe I picked up on it as an empath since times were tough when I was young.  Food was everywhere.  Both grandmother's fed me all the time.  Ice cream, spaghetti, Salisbury steak, chicken nuggets, chicken noodle soup.  My favorite Gma was 425lbs!

2. Bad eating habits.  Eat when happy and sad.  Hide all the feelings.  Don't deal with the emotions.

3 & 4.  Lack of love and respect for myself.  I never learned to be OK with me.  I was never good enough.  Nothing I did wa ever good enough.  I am not good enough.  No one wants me around and when they do I wonder why.  Why have the fat girl around?  Oh!  I know!  So you feel better about yourself.  Has nothing to do with how awesome i am.  I don't love me.  I never have.

All 4 things are officially excuses.  Time to move forward.

Week 3: Stability

This week has been a week of stability.  My weight has not changed much. Still 299-300lbs.  Another week without going to the gym.

Not sure if I consider yesterday a binge, but I drank a 10" margarita and overate at the Mexican restaurant.  But, I did not eat again the rest of the day.

Yesterday, and the day before, I was in such a bad mood.  I could have punched a few people.  I am not sure if it is my hormones, my thyroid, or what.  I have a lot of anger right now. 

I have ate more this week than I have in the last 2 weeks. Other than the binge, I have not gone over on my calories.

Hopefully, next week will be better.  It should be.

Goals for the week:
1. Go back to the gym
2. Cut back on calories
3. Last week of Saxenda
4. Keep focused
5. Calm da hell down

Week end #2

I hit my goal of under 300.  I am so excited. Then the weight loss crawled.  So, this weekend, I increased my calories to hopefully revv up my metabolism.  Or, it slowed and I gained weight back.

Much alcohol was consumed.  I did not plan on that.  But I went out, in uncomfortable situations, and held firm.  So thats a start.  and have been asked to go hang with people today, but do not feel like it.  Im so done with people.  I need to recharge after Saturday.

My fear came true.  People see me as being gay.  If I was gay, that would be fine.  But I want a man to look at me. I have a long way to go I guess.  I have to get this shell off of me. Get over my educated fears of social anxiety.

I love being an INFJ but it is a curse as well.  Only so much social interaction.   And I am emotionally exhausted.  I feel a trigger coming.  I am on an edge.  I am trying to bring myself back from the edge, but also being an empath does not help this.

I also stressed myself out by getting my nails done.  So a stressful weekend.  But good stress.  Healing stress. Finding me stress.

So my stresses this weekend:
Manicure (store full of women) (Friday)
Unexpected invite to hang out (Saturday)
Hang out (Saturday)
No plan (Saturday)
Visit new places (Saturday)
Alcohol...more than normal (Saturday)
Asked again to hang out (Sunday)
Pissed off family (Saturday/Sunday)
Lack of sleep (days now)
Worry about a friend (days)

Wow. No wonder I need a recharge.

Current book:  "It's Time" by Bruce Buffer

Goal 1 (finally) Accomplished

June is a weird month for me.  The Dead Roomie was a Gemini.  Memories of my Southern days seem to all be from June. So, when I stepped on the scale today, June became my favorite month.

Today I made my first goal of 299.9lbs.  I weighed in at 299.5.  Half a pound gone since yesterday.  13.5 pounds since starting Saxenda.  But, I am wondering if it is all Saxenda.  I feel more determined this time.  More able to control myself.  Maybe it is watching my friend do a cleanse fast. Who knows.  I just hope this does not pass.

I am taking a second week from the gym.  My body needs the break. My ankle and knee need it too.  Hopefully tomorrow I can make it to the bone cracker for an alignment.

Next goal is 290!