As much as I would love to say I am just pleasantly plump, or a little chubby, I have a lot of fat on my body. I teeter between overweight and obese, per all those handy BMI calculators. For me to give this diabetes control situation a chance, I need to get into the normal weight category. No more excuses. We are all different, all our metabolisms are different, our body styles, our relationships with food and with the mirror and with what “society” thinks of us. I actually do monitor my calorie intake and my exercise. I most often burn between 2000-2200 calories per day while consuming anywhere from 1200-2000. Yeah, I know. I should be losing weight slowly over time. Calories in, calories out sounds so simple, not easy to do, but simple to figure out, except when it isn’t. I could eat 1000 calories a day and do very little exercise and burn about 1600. Still theoretically a losing situation as far as the scale is concerned, but as far as muscle tone and health, not good for me.
I know stress has weighed heavily on me over the past 2 1/2 years and I know stress kills, and I don’t want to die. I really do think my subconscious has settled in on the concept that I live in anxiety and therefore my brain interprets that to mean that it must hold on to my belly fat for protection, protection against me possibly hurtling myself into a frozen wasteland with only my belly fat (well, and double chins) to live off of. I am fond of saying this and it often gets a chuckle, but I think it is partly true. I live in a constant state of balancing large amounts of stress. I have a hard time calming myself down. Six months pre-dday, my “numbers” were good, in the healthy range even… decent cholesterol (I’ve actually never had high cholesterol per se, just high triglycerides), A1c within proper range, fasting blood sugars normal, normal blood pressure (with medication). I still had the same 45-50 pounds to lose, but I was managing, slowly, changing habits. Then d-day hit and I couldn’t eat a thing, I lost some weight, but I couldn’t sleep either. I was so sad and tormented and stressed out, living in fear. So basically even though I had lost about 15 pounds, I was not healthy. My “numbers” have deteriorated since.
I leave tomorrow morning for four weeks at the facility back east. I am excited to change up my lifestyle, to focus on me and hopefully leave some of the stress of home behind. I guess the big goals would be to lose weight AND to figure out how to manage my lifestyle and my stress once I return home. I am feeling anxiety already.
Here’s an example of how easily I stress myself out:
About three years ago we completely re-did Blue Eyes’ home office. We also turned the boys’ old bedrooms into guest rooms. My interior designer hired this fun guy to do the cabinetry for Blue Eyes’ office and build a great little wood and steel shelf for The Peacemaker’s room (aka guest room). I’ll call the guy the carpenter. So handsome with a great smile and fun personality. He was at our house numerous times. I have had my share of run-ins with many a contractor over the years and it is so nice to have a cool, easygoing, really talented, guy around. I haven’t seen the carpenter since before dday as Blue Eyes’ office was completed about two months before the dreaded phone call.
Yesterday morning Blue Eyes texted me that the son of one of his 12 step buddies is making a steel sliding door for our beach house. A large beautiful door that will separate the great room from our bedroom. Small world, huh? Blue Eyes then told me that this steel and wood “artist” works out of the same building as our architect and interior designer. A huge aching feeling developed in the pit of my stomach. Why, you say? Well, because Blue Eyes’ sometimes shares with me about the guys in his group, many of them are his friends now, I know a few details about some of them. This particular 12 step friend is a retired heart surgeon and his wife called me once, to discuss sex addiction, and her situation, and how she had coped (or not). She is an angry older woman who has not touched her husband romantically since she found out about his sexual acting out (acting out mostly with nurses who worked for him)… that folks, is a dozen years ago or more. This woman HATES nurses. Really? Um, okay. She actually offered to call the OW in our life and chew her out… even after I told her numerous times that the OW is not a nurse. The surgeon’s wife does not want to change her lifestyle, so she stays, and the surgeon has bought himself a sexless marriage (I think I know too much about these people). Anyway, about a year ago, the surgeon and his wife received a call from their daughter in law. She called to say she was leaving their son because he is addicted to porn. She yelled at the parents and accused them of ruining their son. Since then, the son and daughter in law have divorced and the daughter in law moved five hours drive away with their grandchildren. I’m not sure why this bothers me so much, but the son, the one addicted to porn, is the craftsman who has been to our house numerous times and is building a fancy door for our beach house (the carpenter). Our town is not THAT small. How can this be happening? Yesterday after finding this out, I was a bundle of nerves. I was stressed out all day. Even today I feel weird. This whole thing is just a coincidence, and potentially one I shouldn’t even know about. And the thing is, I don’t want to know this information about this talented man. I just don’t want to know any of it.
Honestly, I am glad I am leaving tomorrow. I need a break. I need a break from everything and I need to learn to take all this in stride. I need to de-stress. I need to learn to live for myself and for my own health and not worry about the health of others so much. I fear that the next time I see the carpenter, I will have concern and pity in my eyes instead of awe over the amazing crafts he creates with the part of him that is not broken.
Thirteen hours and counting until I am on that plane. Yikes, I am stressed out.