Tag Archive: conversations

Young man, there’s no need to feel down…..

ymca

They might want to wear something more comfortable in the weight room.

…..I said, YOUNG MAN, come and get your free personal training…..ummm…..

I joined our local YMCA back in August when we moved in, and I’ve been going pretty regularly, at least once a week (such great moderation!). I usually go swimming with Sonja. She said yesterday that going to the pool is our version of going to coffee. Then she said, “That makes us a billion times cooler, you know.”

“That and like a billion other things, dude,” I said. “We’re  just cool. We can’t help it.” It’s helpful to say “dude” whenever you talk about how cool you are, especially when you’re in your mid-thirties.

“I tried to be ‘not cool’ one day, and failed,” Sonja said.

“It’s the risk you take being us,” I proclaimed. Uh huh.

Anyway, when you join, you can get a free consultation with one of the trainers, who will give you a basic training program that you can design to suit your own needs. After that, they’ll keep track of you for 12 weeks and answer any questions you might have as you go along. This is perfect, since I’ve been wanting to do more than swim, but I don’t feel like I know my way around the weight room yet. It will give me a chance to get acquainted.

My appointment is on Friday. I’ll let ya’ll know how it goes.

The perks of being married to a programmer

One of the annoying things about doing an elimination diet, or trying to find out any useful information from your day to day routines, is that to do so you have to be fairly religious about writing everything down. EVERYTHING. This can get really old after awhile, yet it’s so important, especially when you’re trying to track down things like anxiety triggers – stuff that impacts my life in a major way.

Enter my programming god of a husband: Greg.

About a week ago, I said something like, “Man, it would be so useful if I could just record what I eat on my iPhone, or when I take a pill, or when I have a panic attack. I’m tired of lugging around this notebook.”

He got that look in his eye, the one that means he’s thinking he can make me really happy (I love this look, it always ends with him inventing something crazy and wonderful), and said, “Like maybe something where you could put in an event and then it would stick it on a calendar? You know, I could do that. I could make something would enter an event on, say, a Google calendar.”

And so he did.

Right now it doesn’t have a name or an icon: we just call it “Event Tracker” – it’s the white icon down at the bottom:

event_tracker

What it does is going to, for lack of a more mature phrase: rock my world.

  • I can set up events with any text I want. Right now I’m using an initial system. For example, “A: FB PA”, means, “Anxiety: Full Blown Panic Attack”. I’ve created events for exercise, for example, “E: Stat. Bike (10m)”, means, Exercise: rode stationary bike for 10 minutes.
  • Every time an event occurs, I just tap the button, and the information is put on a private Google calendar he set up, called “Hollie’s Events”.
  • Greg is also planning on creating an Apple Script that will pull the data off the calendar into a list. By comparing lists, I’ll be able to answer questions like, “Is it true I’m more anxious at different times in my cycle? Is exercise triggering anxiety or is it something I’m eating on the days I’m exercising?”

Over time, I’ll be able to see trends a lot faster, and I’ll have a lot more data, since this is so easy to use and I won’t skip days because I’m tired and forgot to log what I did or what I ate. The data will also be more accurate, since it will have the date and time, and not lame notes by me, like, “I think this is what I ate, I can’t quite remember”. Basically, I’ll get better information while being able to obsess a lot less about tracking. Win-win!

The Twinkie Defense: “But I didn’t know it had DAIRY!”

twinkieLast night certain monthly womanly things happened (subtlety, I has it), and I was craving something bad for me. Now, normally, I’d want Greg to run up to the corner store and get me a Skor bar, but for some magical reason, the mere mention of anything with milk (like milk chocolate) has me cringing. I haven’t had anything with milk or cow-derivatives since June 30th, and I sure paid for that salad and bread, lemme tell you.

Normally I start craving cheese about three hours after the last meal with cheese. The cycle goes something like this:

5pm: Eat cheese.

6pm: End up in bathroom for hours, cursing cheese’s name, calling out for chamomile tea, and sketching out plans for how I’m going to wipe out all cows with some kind of APPARATUS that I will call, THE BOVINATOR.

6pm-9pm: Vow never to eat dairy again.

9:30pm: Now that digestive system is completely empty, go to fridge to nosh. Hmmm……..leftover pizza sounds good….

Greg has been so fed up with me before that he’ll say things YOU JUST CAN’T TAKE BACK, like, “If you do that one more time, I’m never bringing you chamomile tea while you sit in the bathroom again,” or, “If you eat another slice of pizza, I’m not calling 911 when you think you’re dying later.”

So you’ll be proud to know, as he was proud to hear, that I turned to him after ten entire days off dairy and said, “I don’t want chocolate! I’d like a Twinkie, please! Everyone knows they don’t have dairy. They just have vanilla-flavored lard.”

“Well, that’s appetizing.”

“JUST DO IT, MAN.”

He came back with a 2-pack of them, and I dove in. Halfway through the first one things seemed a little suspicious. Don’t get me wrong, they tasted just as horribly and delightfully gross as I’d hoped, but there was something…..amiss. I checked the wrapper. Yep. About twelve ingredients down, after all the preservatives and lard and vanilla flavoring and what I assume must be some alternative form of embalming fluid, there it was: sweet dairy whey.

I threw the rest out. Aren’t ya’ll proud? I chucked those puppies.

I still consider myself emotionally dairy-free, since accidental dairy doesn’t count.

Eating meat: so far, no heart attack

Well, the last three days I’ve had two servings of meat a day, a whole slew of fruits and veggies, and hardly any grains at all. I feel a little confused and guilty admitting this, but I feel amazing. In two days:

  • My anxiety has been much better. Yesterday I almost missed a dose of my daily medication because I just forgot (anxiety didn’t remind me), and I didn’t take another medication that I use for acute panic attacks – because I didn’t have any. In the 9 days prior to that, I’d taken this medication at least once a day, sometimes twice.
  • My mood has improved dramatically (likely a morale issue based in the anxiety improving).
  • My joints aren’t stiff when I get out of bed. I roll over, stand up, and walk away from the bed with a startling lack of pain. I had no idea how much pain I was having until I realized it was gone. This has perplexed me for the last year – why am I so stiff and sore in the morning? If I were running marathons in my sleep, wouldn’t I be losing weight or at least noticing an increase in workout-wear laundry?
  • I don’t have my usual mid-day slumps in energy. I feel great right up to bedtime.

The important thing to remember is that this is 72 HOURS. Not a week, or a month, or six months. It’s nice and all, but what I’m really curious about is how I’ll feel on June 30th. I’ve read many times, especially from people struggling with anxiety, and it has been true for me countless times; any significant thing in life done differently tends to make you feel better for a few days. In my case, I think of it as the 3-day rule. Whenever I’ve changed meds, or tried a new herb or exercise or habit or whatever to help my anxiety and panic attacks, EVERYTHING generates some improvement for about 3 days.

When those 3 days are over, usually the improvement goes with it, and I’m back where I started. Perhaps this is some version of the placebo effect? I don’t know for certain the mechanism, but I know it happens, so while these changes are fascinating to me, I’m not counting my chickens quite yet.

Yesterday Greg made me some strip steak for lunch, in the wok. It was delicious, but I felt horribly guilty eating it, because I haven’t had time to locate any respected, grass-fed beef yet (I think I found a place last night online – Agape Wells Farm) and this was just from our regular grocery store. I know some people are probably rolling their eyes at me, but hopefully others get it. Anyway, the entire time I thought I could practically feel my arteries hardening. I was laughing to myself that I might need some anxiety meds just to cope with this.

An hour later Sonja and I were in the backyard setting up our new pool, and I said, “Is it possible for someone to eat meat for three days and then DIE FROM CORONARY ARTERY DISEASE?”

The look on her face was priceless.

“Uh. No.”

“Right. I totally knew that.”

I’ve been a vegan groupie since I was a teenager. That’s a loooooong time. I have a scrapbook from High School with articles cut out about the benefits of becoming a vegetarian. I’ve had years and years of self-conditioning that meat is BAD, and I’ve eaten it only because I had to – because I didn’t like vegetables. I’m startled at the depth of my own beliefs around food, and that of people around me (even moderation begins to sound dogmatic when it’s spoken of in a certain tone).

This whole food journey gets more interesting by the day.

Food: it’s broken

I tried to eat tonight, in an effort to stifle some feelings, and it didn’t work. It was the strangest thing. I’d had a rough day, I’m not even entirely sure why. I made an old family dish that I love, some real comfort food. After I’d piled my bowl high, I sat down with Greg, and started eating.

To my total surprise: nothing happened.

In the hours before this, I was agitated, irritated, and restless. I wasn’t intending on overeating or anything, but I hoped that a bowl of this comfort food would calm me down. So why didn’t it work? Want to know the funny part? After telling Greg the food was broken, I went back for seconds. It still didn’t work. It wasn’t doing its damn job! I was supposed to be reassured, soothed, distracted!

I decided to take a bath. An hour later, looking like a raisin and smelling like hippie perfume (LUSH bath melt FTW), some things had floated to the surface (no pun intended):

1) I’m worried about my son. He’s still sick with a fever he can’t shake; we visit the pediatrician tomorrow. I recalled earlier in the day when I felt worry for him, how I shook it off so no one would see it (was anyone even looking?). I didn’t want to appear irrational. But I was worried. Caring for myself means letting myself have my feelings when I have them.

2) Getting overfull and feeling uncomfortable is a convenient distraction from what’s going on in one’s head.

3) Besides worry for my little one, there’s the general agitation that comes from just changing ones life in a significant way. It doesn’t have to mean anything, other than, holy crap, what do I do now? I said something like this to Jason on the phone.

“It’s like, what if someone has been playing World of Warcraft for the last four years*? And then suddenly they stop? What are they going to do with all their time?”

“Wait, like they just stopped?” he deadpanned. “Can they even do that?”

“Ha ha,” I said.

“I mean,” he continued, “they can still read about World of Warcraft, right? Like in forums or in articles, right?”

But seriously; this is something I’ve never tried to do before. Food has been more than food for more years than I can remember. It’s been reassurance, security, distraction. With that gone…..well, it’s kind of like what happens to Greg when he stops drinking coffee, except worse (I know, right? Like how could anything be worse?). There doesn’t necessarily have to be another reason to feel agitated. This is really plenty.

 

I’m wondering how long this will go on. Am I done? Has some spell been broken? What now? When the food isn’t there, and it’s just me and My Thoughts, what will I find? It’s a little terrifying, isn’t it? I mean, FOR ALL OF US, because crap, I have access to the internet, and look at me go!

This reminds me of a friend in college, years ago, who used to get high on a regular basis and thought she had the MOST AMAZING IDEAS whenever she lit up. So one night she got a notebook and wrote all these thoughts down. I’m pretty sure she figured she’d come up with clean fusion, or at least figured out how to get perpetual motion going. The next morning, she was shocked to discover such deep and robust ideas as, “Doritos can melt in Coke,” and, “Bill Clinton should send more rice.”

I’m hoping when this is over that I’ll still have interesting things to say. I’m hoping I won’t need to change the name of this blog to “SEND MORE RICE”.

* Yup, that’s my main character. One of them. I’m sure you want to know my other one, too.