toremindme

[toremindme]

I forgot

I forgot writing was a thing, tumblr was a thing, life...it’s apparently a thing.

I haven’t gained or lost weight in three years.  I’m stronger than I was physically, but weaker in my resolution to take care of myself.   I’m not sure anymore what I was hoping for.   Time for a private journal, maybe.  But I lose those among the poetry journals that I scatter around the smallest three season room of the condo.  

It’s April.  It’s cold.  I have little to no shame left.   *shrugs*

[toremindme]

Most Vivid Memory From 3rd Grade

Not the musical I was in or the chorus concerts or making new friends at camp. My most vivid memory is about gym class. I still remember being in third grade, trying my best to climb one of those damn ropes with the knots. And a bunch of boys and girls watching me. Later, sweating and red faced, one girl promptly told me pretty girls don't sweat, and that I was disgusting. No one wanted to partner with me for any group activity for the rest of the day because I was 'sweaty'. The teacher finally had to assign me a partner for our in class project. I was eight years old.

#tw #trigger warning #ed #shaming

[toremindme]

Post Three

Nearly five…or is it six…weeks in. Five to six weeks of healthy choices and limited cheat days.

I had a donut at work. I was fighting my stomach all the way home. And I’m not sure if it was bulimia. Or guilt. Or an honest to god upset stomach.

There doesn’t seem to be a line between the three anymore.

But even failures won’t stop me. They haven’t before. And this time, I am so tired of hurting myself.

So I’ll cook some spinach, head to the gym for a light workout. And take a bath, focusing on total self care.

Because I am worth it.

[toremindme]

Boobs, Boyfriend, and Bra

Boyfriend: I'm going to put in a load of laundry. These your gym clothes?

Me: Awe, thanks. Yep, that's all of them.

Boyfriend: Oh God. Why is your bra so wet?

Me: My boob sweat knows no bounds.

Boyfriend: There is something seriously wrong with you.

Me: mmhmmm, and you're sleeping in the same bed as me.

Boyfriend: *shudders*

#fitness #toremindme #sweat #boobs

[toremindme]

What they don't tell you about protein shakes.

You'll need to buy a damn good toothbrush, because tartar. ALL the tartar build up you can EVER imagine. I brush my teeth four times a day, and I still feel it. Ick.

#fitness #shakes #protien shake

[toremindme]

Week five.

I just want some damn pasta.

[toremindme]

Every day. Post two.

I am lucky. I remind myself every day. To have the mobility I have. That,when needed, mild pain killers work for me. To have the funds to even worry about this, rather than a roof over my head or the right clothes for my job.

I think this is a waste, sometimes. But I resect work and I can’t help but think I respect my body more though these workouts

I say it every day, aloud and outside the cavern of my head.

Even as these posts help me. They might be hurting someone else.

So. Every day

#fitness #toremindme

[toremindme]

Shopping for Food

In a household of two, where one person is on a semi diet with no official diet title, name or goal point, and the other person lives off of pop tarts, pizza, burgers and popcorn...

How do they not murder each other in the middle of the grocery store?  

#we are never food shopping together again #why

[toremindme]

Cooking

I am the master of omelets.  Use ALL the spinach.  

[toremindme]

Ankles

My ankles are smaller.  0_0

Last week, I noticed that my ankles were smaller in my boots.  The leather felt loose around my skin, and it freaked me out.

So I causally told my boyfriend at home, partly because his talk about the upcoming election and recent articles were driving my anxiety through the roof, for some reason.  And partly because the reason while I was on edge in the first place was my goddamn ankles being smaller.

He told me I was beautiful, said I could stop whenever and he would love me for the decision I make, because it’s what I need to make. Kissed me and went off to his guy night.

I spent the next hour waiting, trying to think of other things before I cracked. I called up no less than five people, trying to get someone on the damn phone.  I almost called my mother.  

Finally I reached a friend who said she was proud of me, loved me, and made me promise to take care of myself through this process.  Talking to someone made me feel better.  

I stopped panicking.

Today after a nine hour shift was work, my ankles are swollen and stiff.

*sigh*

[toremindme]

Post One (but not day one) Introduction

As part of the introduction, please not:  TW for eating disorder, depression, harassment 

So.  This is mainly for thoughts.  Memories, concerns and things that pop up as I fight to get my body healthy.  My name is Casey.  I am 26, and have struggled with depression, anxiety, body image and weight since I was seven years old.  I recently decided to put down the money for a gym membership and to see a personal trainer once a week. 

For a brief history, I was born in RI, grew up living in the same house my whole life, with two older sisters and my mother and father.  One sister is five years older than me.  The other is three.  

I went to college to be a creative writing major, and saw myself working at a publishing company, making my favorite passion also my job.  Then the economy crashed and reality set in hard.  No one in my chosen field was hiring.  Everyone wanted 2-3 years experience for entry level positions, or more education.  Working for a masters or PhD for year, paying all that money for an entry level, 25,000 a year job was just not gong to happen.  Everything would take me away from my home state, which was impossible because at the time my grandfather’s health was failing, and I wanted to be there as much as possible. 

  However, after bouncing from job to job, sometimes having three different jobs which had me working 10 to 17 hours a day, I began to burn out hard and fast.  After paying off my school loan with the highest interest rate, I dropped a few jobs, picked up a few others.  I now work at a local donut shop and bakery, with the best employer I’ve ever had the joy to work with.

My oldest sister and her husband had a little ball of adorable almost two years ago, and my niece is pretty much all I talk about now, besides books, movies, and politics.  

Every Wednesday I babysit my niece from 7:30 to 3/4pm, depending of schedules.  We play together, crawl around on the floor baking like dogs, and watch disney movies.  I love it.  But recently I started going for walks with her, both in a stroller and just down the street.

These short walks left me winded.  My hands and feet swelled.  I mean, I work at a bakery where I run around on week ends, hand frosting hundreds of dozens of donut s a day, lifting trays here there and everywhere.  It didn’t make sense to me.

My hair started falling out.  I figured it was stress.  Poor sleep or poor eating habbits. There’s only so much you can do when your first meal is at 2am and your last with your boyfriend at 7pm, right before sleep.

On top of everything, I have dozen of so health problems.  The worst, being my blood pressure.  I went to donate blood at 18, and they turned me away because my heart rate was over 100 at rest, and my blood pressure at 18 years of age, weighing about 150 lbs, was 140/100.  They highly suggested I see a doctor asap.  My doctor had no idea what happened.  I’d always been 10-15 lb over weight, but somehow between my check up at 17 and turning 18, my blood pressure at rest was worse then my grandparent’s.  After weeks of tests, all the came back negative or no results, after dieting and stopping my ADHD medication, my blood pressure was the same.  I even wore a cuff for two days, while sleeping, at school, etc.  The only unusual thing besides how high my bp was, was that when I slept, my blood pressure went up, as did my heart rate.

So naturally, after four years of controlling my bp with meds and dieting, it was increasing again.

My nightmares came back.  I was bullied....more like harassed in elementary school, which triggered an eating disorder.  Not so much to lose weight, though that was part of it.  But my ed allowed me a kind of control over my body which I completely lost.  

After being mostly controlled and treated in high school, and fighting against some serious issues in college, the urge to return to my age old coping mechanism flooded my every thought. So much that while on break at work I finished my scone went to the rest room and forced myself to vomit.  

Bent over the toilet, at work, suddenly I hated everything about myself again.  Hated my body, my curves, hated my job and my family.  I hated the clothes I wore and the genes I inherited.  Hated my knees that dislocate, my shoulder that slips half out of joint with zero pain, my ankles that roll my inability to grow a pair and apply to an MFA program, knowing that I haven’t written a single word worth reading in months.  Hated my boyfriend, hated the condo where we lived.

Anger and hate are two emotions that I don’t feel all that often.  Frustration, yes, angry, yes.   But I never really hated anything.  Even while being bullied, I usually just had this serious case of either extreme sadness, confusion or complete distance from it.  

As I stood up and flushed the toilet, washed my hands and face four time (because I always washed my hands four times after purging when I was younger)  I realized this reaction to stress was as natural to me as twirling hair around your finger or tapping your foot while sitting.  And that wasn’t normal.

I mean, I always knew it wasn’t normal, that bulimia/over eating/under eating/laxative abuse was a problem, and part of the disease of mental illness.  I just felt plain exhausted with myself and this coping mechanism which would slowly but surly ware down my body and lead to my death.  

My break was over.  I left the bathroom, put my phone away, slid my apron back over my head and walked down the stairs while tying it around my waist.  It occurred to me that between high school and college,  my weight would fluctuate maybe 10 to 15 lbs year to year.  Post college, I would gain and lose 20-25 lbs in a cycle that went every four months or so. And this wasn’t okay. 

I’ve had councilors before. Took medications once,and very briefly because the results weren’t pretty.  Even group dieted to try and stay on a healthy track.  All solutions that, thanks to my parent’s health care, didn’t cost me at all.

It was time to make an investment, something I couldn’t back out of.  I washed my hands once I was on the floor again at work, singing happy birthday too myself and wincing as the hot water ran over raw knuckles.  I popped and pair of gloves on and got back to work.  Promising to do something different.

That was five weeks ago.  

I told everyone I signed up for a gym membership and trainer because I wanted to be held accountable by someone other than myself, which is true.  I do best when I have someone pushing and encouraging me.  And I knew from past experience that regular workouts always boosted my energy and worked as an awesome stress relief.  

What I didn’t tell anyone was that I am down right terrified of who I was becoming.  And I figured this would be one way to change things.  

So here we go.  *crosses fingers*            

[toremindme]