Failing to Plan is Planning to Fail.

I'm in the middle of hell month at the resort.  13-14 hour work days, with no days off from the beginning of May until June 1. I'm tired, hungry, cranky and craving chocolate and ice cream like crazy. I've given in quite a few times, and binged, which makes me feel awful in so many ways.  Today was no exception.  My energy levels plummet, my body aches from the inflammation that sugar causes, I feel like a loser for giving in.

So what do I do when I jump, screaming, off the wagon? In the past I've thrown in the towel, declared "FUCK IT, what's the point, I've already lost the battle" and jumped right into a bucket of ice cream.

At the resort, we have a small convenience store. I am usually the person to run the store, as I process bookings, answer the phone, do the mountains of laundry that never seem to end, and deal with customers and guests. The problem with the store is that when I stand in my usual spot at the counter, I have shelves of chocolate  behind me, ice cream freezers to my left, a chip rack to my right, and candy bins on the counter in front of me.  I'm like a recovering crack addict selling crack, while being surrounded by crack.

I'm just shaking my head thinking about it.  I have to prepare myself for battle every day when I go to work.  I am often surround by my drug from 8 o'clock in the morning, until 8 o'clock in the evening, 7 days a week from mid-May until September.  Every morning I have to start from scratch, "TODAY, I'm not eating any junk food".  But then I miss breakfast or lunch because I have to clean a cabin or mow the lawn, then I am ravenous, and I reach for the closest/fastest thing to stuff in my face. I'll reach for a chocolate bar, while in my head the bitchy voice is saying, "what the hell are you doing, you are fat enough, you don't want to look like a sausage, do you?" But the bastard voice on the other shoulder is telling me, "It's ok, you really want it, you will feel better, your blood sugar is probably really low, it's ok, you know you want it, you need your sugar fix, just one isn't going to hurt, comeonyouknowyouwantojustgivein"  I hate both of those voices. They are mean and nasty, and don't get me anywhere. I need to find a new voice that is full of reason, compassion, and wisdom.

So today I lost the battle again, and I'm judging myself like crazy.  But I am eternally hopeful (Did you know that hope was the last 'evil' to fly out of Pandora's box? I think about this sometimes) so tomorrow I will try again. I try to treat my tomorrows as a sort of Tabula Rasa, with no expectations or judgement to start out my day. But sometimes it's hard not to judge myself right off the hop before the day has even started; I've fucked up so many times that I sometimes feel like the recovering drug addict in the family who continues to fail everyone. Except that I'm only failing myself.

What do I do about this? My dear Sister-Friend is probably pulling out her beautiful hair and screaming at the screen as she reads this, "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU!!!??? FUCKING MEAL PREP!!! AAAAAARGH!!!" Or as they say in the modified keto group I follow on FB, "Failing to plan is planning fail".  And I agree, wholeheartedly - I need to make a plan of attack for this battle, but for some reason, I can't bring myself to do it. It boggles my mind, this tendency to self sabotage. I'll be sitting in front of a glass of water, dehydrated, but I won't drink it. Because I know I need to. This stubborn streak, as my husband pointed out this morning, does not do me any good. He thinks I'm contrarian, simply to assert my independence.

I know where this need to assert my independence comes from; it comes directly from a shitty childhood, in shitty foster homes, dealing with shitty adults who felt the need to assert their dominance on me in very inappropriate and shitty ways. So now I assert my dominance over me, in very shitty ways. I have to do things my way, even when I know that I'll fail.  It needs to stop. I've proven I have dominance over myself and over my life, now I need to re-align that dominance.  This shit needs to stop.

So where do I go from here?  Perhaps some therapy (I want to look at EMDR in another blog post) to deal with the shit.  Work with my lovely husband (who absolutely wants to support me in any way that he can) to pre-plan our food for the summer. Stop judging myself before I even get in the door of the store. Get my staff to run the store while I work outside.  Go hit the punching bag when I need my sugar fix.  There are many possible solutions, I just need to figure out how to convince myself to drink the glass of water before I get dehydrated.

AAAAND I need to stop judging myself.

As you think, so shall you become

"As you think, so shall you become".  

I have these words taped up in my medicine cabinet.  Every morning when I put in my eyeballs (contacts) I see it.  And it's true.  I have no idea if Mr. Lee actually said these words, but it doesn't really matter.  He was a cool dude anyways. But the words, they mean something to me.

For years my inner dialogue had a bitchy version of my mother's voice nattering at me,
"Who are you kidding, you're not going to lose that weight, or if you do, you'll never keep it off"
"What are you wearing THAT for, you look like a sausage, no one wants to look at a walking sausage"
"You will never be as good as so-and-so, so why even bother?"
"Just face the facts, you are loved for your personality, not for your looks"

Now don't get me wrong, my Mom would have NEVER said these things to me. She would have said things that she thought would help make me make my life better, "Lose weight, clean your house, be a good wife!"  I loved her dearly; she was a hard person to live with, but was a fiercely loving woman, with a brilliant mind and fucking awesome sense of humour (thank goodness for that, as I was always getting into ridiculous and irresponsible situations).

No, that little fucker on my shoulder, the one with my Mother's voice, was my own construct.  The narrative that I had written by and about myself was horrible and mean, lacking in compassion and love.  I would have never talked to another human being like that, but for some reason it was ok to talk to myself like that.  And I said these words to myself enough times over 40 years, that I started believing them; and I was sad and depressed, and feeling like I wasn't worth the time and the effort to make any changes.

I became aware of the concept of Mindfulness this last winter.  Being aware of the aspects of my life to which I have been blind.  For me it was my language and how I spoke of myself.  I would always say "I can't", or "there's no way I could do that", or "I fucking hate yoga"........
(did i just say that?  oops)

I have changed my choice of words and story line over the winter.  Now I say "I will eventually do that", "give me time, and I'll get there", "Wow, I am so proud of myself for doing that, Now I am going to work towards the next thing", and of course "I fucking love yoga!!"

I just had to change the way I talked about things.  And it has started having a positive affect on everything I do.  I say yes to things that sound and look hard, I willingly do something that I know will be uncomfortable and possibly painful for the first few tries. There is something in the psychology of how we talk to ourselves which makes an impact on our actions.  I don't quite know how it all works, but I intend to find out.

I'm not preaching to you here.  I REPEAT - I AM NOT PREACHING TO YOU HERE!!  Your body, your mind, your life.  I don't assume to know what diet or course of action is best for anyone but myself.  I am preaching to ME.  This is all my inner dialogue that I am sharing, which at first, I was terrified to share - What if someone laughed?  What if someone thought I was pathetic?  Who the hell wants to see a 240 lb middle aged woman roll on the jiu jitsu mat? Now, I just don't give a hot damn what anyone but me (and my family) think about me.  When I got to this point of not giving a damn about other people's responses, I felt free.  What a feeling!  I am also shocked at the way I was able to make this turn around, simply by talking about myself differently. This blog helps me.  And perhaps my words might someone else who has the same struggles as I. If you need them, they are yours to use.

Anyways, I have some goals that I'm working towards this year.  I think I can attain them. It will be father-effing hard, and sometimes I may be a sobbing, snotty, bloody mess on the floor, but I will get there. I have an amazing, AMAZING, amazing group of people backing me up, and I am grateful and awed at the love and support they have given me in the last year and a half.  I am blessed.

My goals for 2018/19

- lose 8-10 lbs/month (yes, it is attainable, I've proven it once already). I will have to stick to a regimented modified Keto, but I know I can do it. I will be one of those crazy folk who will occasionally post pics of my meals. Apologies in advance.

- replace said fat loss with muscle gain- by doing construction with my husband throughout the summer, and getting someone else to run the Resort on-premises convenience store (which is full of junk food, and ready made foods). I will start weight lifting in the fall when I have access to equipment.

- achieve one full push up (if not more) by the end of August of this year (I can do a half push up on my knees, but bench pressing 200+ pounds is a little difficult for the average overweight girl).  I have taken to doing yoga every morning when I get out of bed for 10-20 minutes, and will segue into modified pushups next week.

- start jumping rope. I believe that if I practice mindfulness as I'm jumping, I can avoid some of the issues I have with running. It will be a way of working on my coordination as well. We'll see if I'm right.

- put in 2-3 sessions on the punching bag per week until next fall, when I will begin attending both jiu jitsu and kick boxing classes in Winnipeg 5-6 times/week. I will also use it as an opportunity to hang with the Boy Child, as he loves holding the pads for me.  We take turns, and call each other "Awesome".

- Practice mindfulness in the same way that I train my body - I believe this is key to my whole plan coming to fruition.  As you think, so shall you become.

These all lead to my ultimate goal for the year.  I intend to be ready, physically and mentally to compete in my first Brazillian Jiu Jitsu tournament sometime next spring. I will need to work hard to get there.  REALLY hard.  I fully intend on being the middle aged lady on the mats, kicking ass (and perhaps convincing at least one unsuspecting person to tap out HA!)  I don't know when one will take place, but dammit, I will be ready. This will mean I need to be fitter, lighter, faster, and smarter. I will be the little red engine that could.

I think I can, I think I can, I know I can, I knew I could.

I'm sure I will have to tweak things as I go along, but if I'm honest with myself, and don't make ridiculous excuses for not doing the work, I will get there.

The saying on my fridge.

I'm the little engine that could, dammit.

Liberty 2.0

There is this idea that one needs to succeed in major life moments before the age of 40, and if you don't, it's too late.  You are too old, too fat, too slow, too boring, too established.  An old dog can't learn new tricks, right? Wrong. What people don't seem to realize, that after 40, one has access to reserves of wisdom, time, and experiences; armed with those things, we can do damn near anything we put our minds to.

(He is TOTALLY teachable!)

I was your typical middle aged, middle class, western obese house wife.  High-ish blood pressure, high blood sugar, sedentary, been on every diet out there with no success. I had been suffering from what I thought was either fibromyalgia or arthritis for 15 years already. I hurt every damn day, all day. I would wake up in tears, pop a few Advil and carry on with my day.  I couldn't walk up 1 flight of stairs without getting winded.  I would make my kids get something from the other side of the room so that I wouldn't have to haul my carcass to it's feet.  I loved sugar in all it's forms - bread, potatoes, candy, ice cream, chocolate, and 1-2 litres of coca cola to wash it all down (did I mention ice cream?) I was an amazing cook, and made the most amazing artisanal bread and homemade Mennonite noodles. I was a binge eater (major childhood trauma that I was self medicating for). I was miserable and in hell.

Every 6 months I would become determined that once and for all, I would lose all that weight and become skinny, and finally be happy and full of self love rather than self loathing. I tried Weight Watchers, Body for Life, Game On, I went Vegetarian, and flirted with Veganism.  My mantra was "Calories in/Calories out", and I memorized the Canada Food Guide. I would put myself through the insult of Zumba (if I hear another perky Blonde in lulu lemon pants yell 'Whoop!" one more time, I may just have to eat her), and leave at the end of class sobbing.  I would put myself through absolute hell and lose 20 lbs, and then find the process impossible to maintain and put 25 lbs back on; and then would try to assuage my self loathing by stuffing my face with all the foods I denied myself.  I was always hungry. I continued to do this from my early teens to the ripe old age of 45 where I woke up one morning and found myself at 297 lbs.  I was horrified.  But I was resigned that perhaps I would never ever be healthy or thin.

Perhaps I'll share the full photo when I'm ready...

And there was also the trauma of clothes shopping.  I'll save that special horror for another post.

Yup, that's Stonehenge

The kicker was this: I was a very successful business woman, I have a university education, I had traveled the world extensively, I had (have) a beautiful family with a loving and spectacular marriage of 25 years, I would live in the Whiteshell in the summers, and winter in the UK for almost a decade (while I was there, I had written/produced/performed a couple of successful plays in Scotland), I can do construction, I can shoot any gun handed to me, I could drive a bob cat, snowmobile, combine, or truck, I was a decent flautist for 30 years, and can play 5 different instruments. I was a good actress, sometimes great; and the list goes on.  I was the cat's meow.    However, because I was obese, I considered myself a failure in life.  Isn't that just mental?! The diet industry and glamour mags had successfully sunk their claws into me, and numpty that I was, I allowed it. Just rereading this, I feel a bit of an idiot.

My one bad ass photo when I was feeling alright about myself. - Photo credit by Bruce McLeod who is sadly no longer with us. RIP, Bruce. x

Fast forward to September 1, 2016, two months before my 45th birthday.  My Dad passed away that morning, and rather than grieving properly, I proceeded to binge eat for 4 days straight.  Some people get drunk, I gorged on junk food.  On September 4th I woke up feeling weird.  My breath was a little shakey, I felt sick all day, my eyes were a little blurry (it might have been all the crying in between stuffing my face).  I was terrified that I was having a heart attack, or in some sort of Diabetic episode. I looked in the mirror, and felt that I looked about 55 or 56 years old.  Double chin, sallow skin with bad acne, hair thinning.  Nasty RBF (resting bitch face).  I figured that if I continued on the way I was going I would be dead in about 5 years.  I felt old, ugly, and useless; I avoided exercise, avoided anything that required effort, avoided change. But that was exactly what I needed.  I was terrified of what I had become, and would continue to be.

My dear Sister-friend had been trying to get me to try this new diet that she'd had a great deal of success on.  She had several medical conditions, including PCOS, Chronic Pain/Fibro, bone spurs in the neck and spine, which all culminated in a weight of almost 350lbs.  She managed to control and mitigate all of that with a diet that she later called 'Modified keto'.  I thought it was inimical to everything I had ever been told by my doctors, nutritionists, crazy Zumba instructors, and just society in general.  Fat is healthy?  Meat is healthy?  That's just crazy talk!  However, as I watched my sister-friend drop 130lbs, manage her PCOS and become pregnant, manage her gestational diabetes, and reduce her pain medications considerably, I began to look at her way of eating in a different light.  So on that fateful day in September, I begged her to show me what she had been doing.

So she patiently walked me through a modified Ketogenic Diet, geared towards those folk who have a great deal of weight to lose.  Doctors have been prescribing Keto diets to people with cancer, Epilepsy, diabetes, and other diseases as a way to mitigate the symptoms.  There have been some studies (I will get into this all some other time) that have suggested that it's not fat that is making us fat and sick, but actually sugar, high fructose syrup, and starches.  The diet industry is making us fat and sick.

So I followed the modified diet to the T for 8 months.  I lost 64 lbs, it practically melted off.  My blood pressure went back to normal, I never suffered from blood sugar crashes, I never went hungry, and most importantly I started Brazilian Jiu Jitsu at Winnipeg Acadamy for Mixed Martial Arts (WAMMA).  Joining WAMMA changed my life in a profound way.  I started running (tho I've since stopped running, as it's still too much weight on my knees), and this year I started Kick Boxing.  I'm not great at either, but the sense of joy and accomplishment I derive from both is a revelation.

Last summer I had a set back.  I run a resort, and tend to put in long hours of work, ignoring my self care, and putting everything into the business.  So I put back on 25 pounds, due to eating shit again rather than precooking my food.  I've since lost 14 of those pounds.

I have lost my focus a couple of times this last winter, once when I had surgery to repair a huge umbilical hernia and couldn't exercise at all for a month, and in the last month, when I started back at the resort and started forgetting my self care.  It was suggested that I start a blog so that I can document how far I've come, and to help keep me on my path.  I am quite nervous about posting my intentions and goals on here (along with the photos).  They are personal, seem almost too grandiose for someone who is about to hit menopause, perhaps a little unrealistic.  However I have realized that I just don't give a shit how unrealistic my goals are.  I am determined to change myself in profound and great ways.

So my goal is this:  Get back on the Keto wagon.  Set aside attainable goals throughout the year that complement my bigger goals. I will share those goals in my next post when I've figured them out.

Me, February 2018 - 55 pounds down since September 01, 2016.