One Year

Sunday marks one year since your passing. I wonder if you’re looking down and wondering how it all went so wrong or if you’re surprised it took as long as it did for us all to fall out.

I’ll be honest, I love you, but I’m still mad as hell with you for what you left behind for us to deal with. I wish you had been man enough to deal with your own mortality, instead of sticking your head in the sand and pretending you were going to live forever. I wish you had taken off the blinders you wore when it came to your youngest, and realized you were leaving your wife in the care of a narcissistic drug addict, and leaving the rest of us powerless to do anything about it. I wish for once you had stood up to your youngest, made her grow up and stand on her own two feet, and take responsibility for her actions, the way I have been made to do.

Instead you ignored it all.

Now I have no contact with most of one side of my family. I realize I lost my grandmother, your wife, the day we received the diagnosis of Alzheimer’s, but the day you died, and left her in the care of your youngest daughter, I lost my grandmother, as well as my grandfather, for good. Your youngest was never made to be accountable, and when we, that is my mother, sister and I, asked her to do so, we were cut off.

So here it is – your dying wish was that my mother and her sister not fight. The unspoken wish was that my mother roll over and play dead. Allow her sister to continue to do what she wanted, regardless of the consequences, now unchecked with your passing. Fortunately, my mother had the wherewithal, with the support of me and my sister, to stand up to her, your youngest daughter, and not allow herself or her family to play a part in that play.

I’m proud of my mother, but I can’t say I’m not angry. I’m angry it had to come so long after it started to play out. I’m angry you didn’t face up to things, and accept that my grandmother, and you for that matter, needed care. Maybe you’d still be with us, maybe my grandmother would be slightly better off than she is. Maybe your youngest daughter would be a better person, not the pill popping, money grubbing self centered brat she has become, and may have always been.

We’ll never know.

Sunday marks one year since you left us. I love you and I miss you, but I’m angry with you for the mess you left behind.

Update

So I have a little update on yesterday's blog post.

I started to look into payday loan consolidation, and the more I read, the more it made sense. They negotiate with the creditors, get interest rates lowered and get payment plans in place.

I got a reply from a query, the person sending me the information urged me to research other companies and find out what they could do (always a good sign - when any professional balks at a second opinion, I run, when they encourage it, I almost feel like it's a sign from God).

I had planned to suck it up this month. I asked my father to let me slide on money I give him each month. He agreed. I called my car loan company and asked them for an extension, it's still pending, but even if it's approved, only principal is waived for one month. Will need to pay interest and the full amount next month, but it's a help. I was still going to be underwater.

I slept on it and decided it was the right move. I called the consolidation company this morning and the woman asked me why I was waiting a month. I explained to her that I thought since it was already close to the end of the month, I had missed my opportunity. She explained that most of their clients call right before they get paid and they realize they are in trouble and they could help.

I quickly sped over to my bank to make arrangements - the person who helped me was wonderful. Non-judgemental, understanding, we bonded over running (we're both running in the Philadelphia Marathon - her the full, me the half). She helped me block payments, change accounts, begin the process of getting my house in order.

When I returned to the office, I faxed over the paperwork to the consolidation company, and as I understand it, they are already calling my creditors and faxing over letters.

It all feels too good to be true.

My internal pessimist wonders if it is. I'm holding my breath, but I feel like a weight has been lifted. I huge $6k one.

I've vowed to live within my means. No more loans, cash only. This can't happen again, it won't happen again. Much like my weight and exercise, I need to be healthy financially.

Austerity is the new black.

Dirty Laundry

It's dirty laundry time.

As I'm sure most of you have figured out, I'm an idiot. A big old dumb idiot, always have been, but over the past 2 1/2 years, I seem to have gotten dumber.

It all started when I was promoted. That promotion came with a kicker, my nice bi-weekly paycheck suddenly went to monthly. I scrambled, but still needed to cover the bills. I discovered this great new way of covering my expenses, just a few hundred.

Pay Day Loans

For those of you who have heard of them, I'm sure would you physically slap me upside the head for falling into this trap. For those of you who haven't, let me serve as a cautionary tale.

Basically, they are high interest loans, meant to be paid back on your next payday, in my case, 30 days later.

No problem, I thought. Better days will be here soon.

2 1/2 years later, I'm in a shitload of trouble. I mean big, old heaping mess of shit to the tune of $6,000+ and I'm trying to figure a way out. I was told pay increases were coming, and I found out today what that number actually meant - it came out to roughly $25 more a week. Yeah, not helpful.

As of this month, my outgoings are $1000 more than my incomings if I don't take out (yet another) loan. I am determined not to do that.

I'm begging, scrambling and basically in a tizzy, none of this is actually helping.

Just need to vent, share what's on my mind. I'm working on a way out, I'm just scared, sad and feeling stupid. Just another day in the life of Beth. Yay!

Tomorrow

This week has been a bit of a repeat of the Memorial Day debacle. Lots of eating, and eating of the wrong things, and not as much exercise as I would have liked given that amount of eating.

Tomorrow is weigh in day - the albatross around my neck.

That said, I’m ready for it (it being WW tomorrow), and I’m working on getting myself into a better place than I was last time.

Last time I faced my fear – a big gain, I lost it, and then some, the next week. In fact, I lost even more in the following weeks, to the point where I wasn’t sure that the numbers were real – meaning really “me”.

Tonight, I’m trying to get myself into the space I was the first time I saw the scale go below 140, let alone 135. I’m expecting a 2 pound gain, if not more. Yeah, I was “that” bad on 4th of July (and the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 5th - hey, it’s our Nation’s Birthday, I have no kids, and even Richard Simmons says you should have a piece of cake on your kid’s birthday. Seeing as I have none, I was eating cake for the country, and let me tell ya people, that’s a lot of cake. A lot.).

In a non-scale victory related front, I had a major victory. I ran in a 5k I had vaguely entertained entering the past 2 years it was held. On the 4th of July, a hut, humid, generally muggy day, I managed a 3.1 mile road race (up and down hills, the last part up) in 24 minutes, 12 seconds; a 7 minute 47 second mile. For those of you who don’t run, that is huge! 7 months ago, I ran a race hoping to come in under 12 minutes per mile. My mind was blown.

Of course, I reacted to this news by eating ¾ of a bagel, a soft pretzel, ice cream, lots of diet bread, and la piece de resistance, my buddy, peanut butter. Oh, and lots of water, some turkey and fruit. But mostly junk. Because why else do you work out?

Guess what? I didn’t freak out (ok, freak out for me…I did go on a 90 minute walk that afternoon, but that was more to occupy myself with something that didn’t (a) incur calories or (b) cost money).

I’ve clearly come a huge way , in my mind, – I never would have entertained running the entire length of a 5k, let alone in under a half an hour, one year ago today. So what if I’ve gained a pound or two (or three)? Been there, done that, bought the tee-shirt. I can lose it, and I will.

So there inner voice. Fuck you. I’ve got this.

Born to Run? Me?

I came to a realization today. I love running outside!

This is strange, in light of the fact that I made up a lot of excuses to avoid doing this in the build up to summer. “It’s too cold and I’m a wuss” “The cold triggers my asthma” “I need to watch something on TV to distract me”

Oh sure, I had run outside in the past. Actually, I came to start running in the first place because my treadmill had died, and I wound up having to exercise outside. It was a crazy hot day, and brilliant me, I thought I’d run so I could get my cardio over and done with faster. Honestly, it’s a miracle I’m still alive. Once I calculated the Activity Points via Weight Watchers, I decided that running would be “my thing”. I had a few fits and starts since that first day (like gaining 85+ pounds, but I digress) but I’ve always tried to come back to it.

Last year when I got back into fitness, I started running again, and signed up for a few races. Running outside was difficult to say the least. Now I know it was difficult because of (a) general lack of conditioning, (b) approximately 50 to 60 pounds of fat I had on my frame (compared to my current weight – and while I’ve lost 94 pounds to date, even I am not dumb enough to try to run at 230 pounds – I had to lose a few before I decimated my knees) and finally, (c) inadequately treated asthma. I couldn’t make it more than a mile before I started wondering when I could stop and/or dry heave.

Once the winter hit I was on the treadmill, with DVR’d episodes of “Blue Boods”, “Desperate Housewives” and “The Apprentice” to amuse me, full water bottle by my side and inhaler right on the treadmill dashboard. I went to the doctor for a regular checkup when she put me on a new medication for my asthma, and I was surprised to find that my inhaler started gathering dust, but I wasn’t ready to leave it behind.

My realization that I love running outside came a few weeks ago. I had a Saturday when I knew I would have a time crunch, and wasting time waiting for a stair master, my usual Saturday activity, wasn’t going to fit in. I woke up, planning to hit the treadmill in my house, when I felt ashamed. It was a sunny, gorgeous day. The temperature was perfect - not too hot, not too cold and practically no humidity. With some dread, I grabbed my one pair of “outside” running shorts (they have a pocket with a zipper, so I could keep my trusty inhaler close by) and laced up my sneakers.

To my surprise, the runners high kicked in. I never touched my inhaler, and I was able to manage my water intake thanks to a handheld water bottle that strapped to my hand. In fact, toward the end of my run, I was running down a hill, Born This Way blasting from my headphones, when I stretched my arms out. It was a cheesy move, yes, but I felt, I don’t know, alive. Running actually felt natural, not forced. I’ve been running on and off for 7 years and this is the first time I’ve felt like this.

Running was always more about efficiency than anything else. Doing Weight Watchers, I live for my Activity Points. I can gain 10 APs by running for 61 minutes (not that I’m counting the nanosecond or anything) while it takes me 2 hours and 33 minutes to earn the equivalent walking alone. A higher intensity activity just makes more sense, who cares if it’s fun?

Since that Saturday, I’ve taken every chance I can get to run outside. If I didn’t need to get up so early to knock out my cardio, I’d run in the morning, but I’m pretty sure a 5 am run (when it’s pitch black) would be a suicide mission.

Today, because of my urgently needed motor vehicle inspection (15 days late, but really, who’s counting?) I had to work from home, and in light of the gorgeous weather, I took an early lunch and went for a late morning run. I grabbed any old pair of shorts, tucked my inhaler in my sports bra and grabbed a random water bottle.

I was dying by mile 2, but persevered. I ran 62 minutes and 6.75 miles. When I synchronized my run, I discovered I had a personal best as far as speed, 9 minutes, 12 seconds per mile on average. Honestly, I know may never replicate this run, so I’m reveling in it, and as of right now, baby, I was born to run. Care to join me?

Progress

I feel like I’ve made some progress in this little journey of mine. Last week, as I ranted incessantly, was so not a good week in terms of living a healthy lifestyle. Between eating too much at a holiday bar-b-que, not being able to exercise because of 12 hour long work days and stress binge eating, I started to slip into bad habit and it showed on the scale. In reality, I wasn’t as bad as I could have been, and probably ate much worse on a “normal” day pre Weight Watchers, but I still did a really good job of beating the hell out of myself over it.

I made a key decision, I still went to my weekly weigh in, even though knew it would be bad. I couldn’t go to my normal Friday meeting, so I made a point of getting up early on Saturday and getting over to another meeting. As expected, it was bad. Like 3.4 pound gain bad. I know it wasn’t all fat, but still, pretty bad on my 5’3” frame. Five years ago, something like that would have had me running for the nearest McDonalds (conveniently located across the parking lot from WW. Seriously, whoever planned these locations is either an evil genius or a complete idiot. My guess is evil genius.) That is, if I even got on the scale at all. Like a lot of people, I hate seeing the cold reality of the scale, even more so when the prior trend was downward.

I’d be lying if I didn’t have the urge to let myself “go” another week, but I tried to remember what got me started. I tried to remember how I felt with 90 pounds of extra weight, wearing clothes I didn’t like, not being able to wear rings I loved because they were too tight on my bloated fingers, being sweaty all the time. I tried to remember how difficult it was to walk at a quick pace, forget running, the embarrassment of barfing after pushing myself too hard on a cardio machine (even if I did retell it for laughs later on) . I kept telling myself I wasn’t going to be going back that place, to being that person.

So I spent Saturday trying to get back on plan with mixed results. I went for a 7.5 mile run, I ate healthy and on track until the evening came and the carb monster decided to come out to play. I kept trying, with success for the rest of the week. I went to my weigh in today hoping to at least not have gained, hopefully to have lost. My hard work paid off and I not only lost the weight I gained last week, but also another quarter pound.

The focus now, as it has been, is maintenance, but also to be more realistic. I had the worst case scenario – a horrid week, not eating right, missing some exercise, and a rather large gain, and guess what? I survived. I not only survived, but I managed to get back on track and reverse it.

Makes me think I just may be able to do this maintenance thing!

Yes, Another Whiny Food/Diet Related Blog

I feel like shit.

I’m not sick, allergies are OK despite the pollen and humidity. I’ve been eating like a human garbage can since last Friday.

Oh, lighten up I thought. It’s a holiday weekend. It started with a doughnut after an unexpected 2 pound weight loss at weigh in.

From there on it’s been downhill. The people living with me don’t really know because I closet eat. It’s part of my thing. I’m uncomfortable eating OP (Off Program) in front of other people, even if I have the “budget” from Weekly Points and Activity Points, especially when I've blown my budget. Pretzels and doughnuts are the key culprints, easy to eat while driving. I have literally driven from one convenience store to another to buy binge food and eat it on the way. I can’t really explain it, I wish I could so I could stop it. The good news is that I'm working really hard to get the purging under control. It's a struggle and a process, but I'm working on it.

Yesterday I got a prelunch peptalk from my friend J. I ate my healthy salad, fruit as a snack, killer workout, healthy dinner. Then I started snacking.

So it’s come to this, Wednesday, Day 6 of my binge. I’ve worked out everyday except today, so that works in my favor, although the fact that I couldn’t face the heat has backed me into a workout corner. Now I’m stuck in a room with 15 colleagues, with no sign of getting out anytime soon so I can exercise at a reasonable time. I’m wearing a suit that if I’m honest has always been snug. On one hand I’m pretty sure it’s no tighter than usual, although given the guilt I’m feeling from the poor eating (excessive snacking more like) it feels like a sausage casing. The scale is up at least 2.5 pounds since last Friday, Lord knows what it will be like by Saturday.

I know that how I’ve eaten over the past few days doesn’t even hold a candle to how I used to eat but I’m still feeling bad. I also know that I’m too hard on myself. I know that, really I do. I saw the movie Black Swan a few months ago, and the lead character (who winds up killing herself in the end in a state of psychosis – I won’t spoil the movie for you but it wasn’t an intentional suicide, and please don’t misinterpret this comparison as a threat) has a constant refrain – she wants to be perfect. That rang true with me. No, not the start ballet, dress up in bird feathers, have a psychotic break with reality wherein (SPOILER ALERT) I think I've killed the person that is my rival but have actually stabbed myself in the stomach.

No, I want to be perfect.

Oh, and Black Swan while good, was a really strange movie. But I did learn that trying to be perfect is really not a good thing.

It’s not rational, it’s not practical. It’s setting myself up for failure, thus starting a shame spiral from not being perfect. Perfection cannot be attained. I know this. Really I do. I need to find a way to loosen the reins and live. Indulge without binging.

I can’t change today (or Tuesday, Monday, Sunday, Saturday or Friday) but I can change go forward. I can choose differently tomorrow. I can live in the now.

I still have a race coming up – one in July and another in November. I will be running them.

I have a new wardrobe – buying one in a bigger size is not an option. I will be wearing it three months from now.

My breakfast, lunch and snacks (healthy and on program) are both still in the fridge. I will be eating them tomorrow. The vending machine and I are on a break. Except for a diet coke and perhaps a cup of black coffee, nothing else will be purchased by me in the cafeteria tomorrow. Gas (and perhaps fruit) is all Wawa will be selling me – no doughnuts, no soft pretzels.

I will be up at 5:00 am tomorrow and Friday since the way today has gone, the gym after work probably isn't realistic. Brass tacks: I feel better when I workout. The day starts on a good note. A part of me is even starting to like how free I feel when I run. Shhh! Don't tell anyone.

I know I have the tools. One day of not exercising doesn’t mean I will have lost my endurance. Because of these meetings, I won’t be able to work with my trainer this week. This doesn’t mean I will have lost my muscle tone.

I need to think of the past few days as being on the world’s crappiest cruise with the world’s best buffet table. I ate to excess (for me) but I’ll bounce back. This is my dietary week's staycation.

The staycation is over tomorrow, weigh in day (Saturday because of these meetings) be damned.

I can do this. I WILL do this.

If for no other reason, so I don’t have to write another blog entry like this.

Thanks for listening again. Thanks for still supporting me. Thanks for continuing to have my back.