Things have really been coming together for me since my last blog post. I've been seeing a therapist and that has really been opening doors in my mind and turning on lights that needed to be turned on. Since coming to the realization that I binge eat, I've been taking some measures to watch myself so I don't go into a frenzy like I normally do.
I've mentioned before that I'm petrified of death, and even more so, I've been afraid of dropping dead due to a heart attack because of my size and that's caused me so much anxiety. I was constantly living in a state of quiet panic. I have friends who I turn to when I'm freaking out and they calm me down, but I stopped going to them because I don't want to burden them anymore.
The biggest reason that I was so nervous is because I was uncertain what was going on with my body. I didn't know where my blood pressure was, I didn't know about my cholesterol or anything. For all I knew my arteries were clogged horribly and I was one cheeseburger away from the underworld.
Now..I know what you're thinking..Go to the hospital and get that shit checked out! The reason I haven't is because I haven't had insurance and I already have thousands of dollars in medical bills, some of which were really expensive freak outs.
Well now I DO have insurance and I wanted the whole 9 yards. They tested my blood pressure, which is okay. My cholesterol came back normal as well. I admitted to the doctor my fears, and she told me that my blood pressure is fine, my cholesterol is fine, she gave me a physical and I'm still young and I've never smoked..I'm fine. I'm going to be fine. Aside from my obesity, I'm really not what she considers at risk.
I felt like Atlas, being burdened with holding the sky up, and someone came and took over for me. I was happy. I wasn't as close to death as I thought I was. I felt renewed and rejuvenated. I felt positive.
The doctor put me in touch with a nutritionist doctor, which I saw yesterday and we talked and it felt good to talk to someone in such a real way. I'm not counting calories, and I don't have to do that to be healthy. We are starting with baby steps. First of which is making sure I'm physically active every day. I've been assigned a 10 minute walk each day with my lovely dog. I'm also supposed to make sure I'm eating smaller portions and eat more frequently so the urge to binge isn't there from waiting.
I'm taking small steps towards a new lifestyle, and I'm going to do better because I know I can. I feel like I've been given a gift, and I'm going to make it count by changing my life.
I feel better now. Between seeing my dietician and my therapist, I can work on my mind and body and be the me that I am inside. It's like the dark clouds have parted and life can be good again.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Friday, September 27, 2013
Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't.
Seeing a friend blog made me realize that I had one. Though I don't have many people who read this, if any. It's therapeutic.
My weight loss journey is kind of at a stand still I would say. I haven't had soda since my last blog, I'm quite proud of that. However, I haven't done much in the way of working out. As usual, I lost my motivation.
Before I'll go on, I'll say that I'm about to discuss something that I really hesitated to discuss, some may be reading this for the first time, and if I don't know you very well, it may put some thoughts about me in your head. If that's the case, oh well..what can I do. I'm gonna bare my soul for me. I need to talk to someone and the internet is sometimes the only one I feel like I can really bare myself to sometimes.
Anyway...
About a week ago I had a visit to Urgent Care. I won't give all the details because frankly it's gross. But lets say there was blood where I didn't think there should be blood, and in more than one place. Now..Truth be told it was a tiny amount, and in the back of my mind I knew there was a LOGICAL explanation for it, and it wasn't an emergency, but I panicked. When I got there in talking to the nurse, I was freaking out. I was basically BEGGING for reassurance that I wasn't going to die. That's when she picked up on the fact that I had some anxiety issues. I used to think maybe I was a hypochondriac. But it's really more of an issue than I had thought it was. Of course, I was fine. The little voice in my head that told me "It's only this. No big deal." was correct.
I noticed a pattern. Every time something happens. If I throw up, or if I get sick..or If I get a little ache or pain or even indigestion, which is common for me as of late..I panic. I jump to the conclusion that Death has come for me. My time is near. I realized that sometimes, I can't be calmed down and I make an unnecessary trip to Urgent Care because I need reassurance.
So after the doctor told me I was fine, the nurse had sent a counselor in to talk to me. I got a pamphlet about Anxiety disorders...and I read it, and it fit me. She said I should talk to a therapist, and I figured, now that I have insurance, why not.
So I went in today to "Get my head shrunk". As I walked down the florescent lit hallways I was plagued with guilt. The hallway seemed so long. "Am I crazy?" I asked myself. "Am I nuts? What's wrong with me? Is this what it's come to?" I felt a little bit of shame to tell the truth. I looked around to make sure I didn't recognize anyone. As I sat in the waiting room I watched the other people and how they acted. "I'm not like these people." I told myself. "I don't NEED to be here. I'm not one of them."
Before I knew it, the pager went off and I was introduced to my therapist. We walked to her office, which was very peaceful. She was quite obviously a big KISS fan judging by her room decor.
So we talked. She asked me questions. We talked about my childhood. We talked about my anxiety and WHY I get it. Then we talked about my weight..and in detail. I was open. I was honest. I told things that I have kept to myself about why I eat. I told her about counter productive behaviors that I've caught myself in, and that's when she told me that based on what I told her, I have a problem with binge eating. This was an issue that ties into my anxiety because I eat not only when I'm bored..but when I'm stressed and anxious. Now..Don't get me wrong. I'm not some big pig that eats mountains of food. But I have a tendency to space out while I eat..and while it's not often, sometimes it's an abnormal amount of food...and then I feel shame. I feel shame even admitting it right now. I can't tell you how horrified I am that people will see that I have this issue.
The doctor said she felt like she had heard enough to comfortably diagnose what my biggest problem is: I binge eat. I eat my feelings. I try to fill these holes with food. Then I get anxiety that this counterproductive behavior will bring Thanatos to me. (That's the Greek God of Death for those who don't know.)
That's me. I do all these things, and then I lack the motivation to fix it...aside from quitting soda, which at this point doesn't mean shit to me.
I'm not going to lie. Talking and opening up to someone felt really good. It was nice to talk to someone who could help me realize what I'm doing. My maternal grandmother was very overweight and died of a heart attack at 50..and it wasn't her first. I don't want to be that. I have a massive fear of death as it is, so I don't want to bring it before it needs to be here. That is also something I will be talking about with the therapist.
I have more appointments to talk more with a therapist, and to see a medical dietician who specializes in people like me. They can try to fix me. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so quick to judge the situation. Maybe I can be free of these demons that I haven't been able to shake. Maybe someday I can be "normal" and "healthy". Maybe someday my friend Motivation will come and be a permanent part of my life. I'm 30 years old, and I have one shot at life. I don't want to leave the party before it's over. Hopefully seeing someone about my eating disorder and my anxiety will help me. Though I'm a bit ashamed of having an eating disorder, it felt good to know there is a name for it...if that makes sense? It's nice to really talk to someone about it candidly and openly. To say what I want about how I feel without filters.
Don't get me wrong. I have some great friends. There are about 3 people that I can really open up almost 100% to about my health literally any time of night or day. It's amazing. 1 is related, 1 has known me since middle school, and 1 I've strangely never met face to face, but all of these people have been there for me during my freak outs. I love these people, and all of my other friends who offer to talk to me, and even actively seek me out to make sure I'm okay.
Though I have these people, there's still small parts that I can't open up about. That's where the therapist comes in. Maybe this blog is a practice run of opening up more. I don't know. Am I crazy? Can my "issues" be overcome? I certainly hope so. I suppose only time will tell.
My weight loss journey is kind of at a stand still I would say. I haven't had soda since my last blog, I'm quite proud of that. However, I haven't done much in the way of working out. As usual, I lost my motivation.
Before I'll go on, I'll say that I'm about to discuss something that I really hesitated to discuss, some may be reading this for the first time, and if I don't know you very well, it may put some thoughts about me in your head. If that's the case, oh well..what can I do. I'm gonna bare my soul for me. I need to talk to someone and the internet is sometimes the only one I feel like I can really bare myself to sometimes.
Anyway...
About a week ago I had a visit to Urgent Care. I won't give all the details because frankly it's gross. But lets say there was blood where I didn't think there should be blood, and in more than one place. Now..Truth be told it was a tiny amount, and in the back of my mind I knew there was a LOGICAL explanation for it, and it wasn't an emergency, but I panicked. When I got there in talking to the nurse, I was freaking out. I was basically BEGGING for reassurance that I wasn't going to die. That's when she picked up on the fact that I had some anxiety issues. I used to think maybe I was a hypochondriac. But it's really more of an issue than I had thought it was. Of course, I was fine. The little voice in my head that told me "It's only this. No big deal." was correct.
I noticed a pattern. Every time something happens. If I throw up, or if I get sick..or If I get a little ache or pain or even indigestion, which is common for me as of late..I panic. I jump to the conclusion that Death has come for me. My time is near. I realized that sometimes, I can't be calmed down and I make an unnecessary trip to Urgent Care because I need reassurance.
So after the doctor told me I was fine, the nurse had sent a counselor in to talk to me. I got a pamphlet about Anxiety disorders...and I read it, and it fit me. She said I should talk to a therapist, and I figured, now that I have insurance, why not.
So I went in today to "Get my head shrunk". As I walked down the florescent lit hallways I was plagued with guilt. The hallway seemed so long. "Am I crazy?" I asked myself. "Am I nuts? What's wrong with me? Is this what it's come to?" I felt a little bit of shame to tell the truth. I looked around to make sure I didn't recognize anyone. As I sat in the waiting room I watched the other people and how they acted. "I'm not like these people." I told myself. "I don't NEED to be here. I'm not one of them."
Before I knew it, the pager went off and I was introduced to my therapist. We walked to her office, which was very peaceful. She was quite obviously a big KISS fan judging by her room decor.
So we talked. She asked me questions. We talked about my childhood. We talked about my anxiety and WHY I get it. Then we talked about my weight..and in detail. I was open. I was honest. I told things that I have kept to myself about why I eat. I told her about counter productive behaviors that I've caught myself in, and that's when she told me that based on what I told her, I have a problem with binge eating. This was an issue that ties into my anxiety because I eat not only when I'm bored..but when I'm stressed and anxious. Now..Don't get me wrong. I'm not some big pig that eats mountains of food. But I have a tendency to space out while I eat..and while it's not often, sometimes it's an abnormal amount of food...and then I feel shame. I feel shame even admitting it right now. I can't tell you how horrified I am that people will see that I have this issue.
The doctor said she felt like she had heard enough to comfortably diagnose what my biggest problem is: I binge eat. I eat my feelings. I try to fill these holes with food. Then I get anxiety that this counterproductive behavior will bring Thanatos to me. (That's the Greek God of Death for those who don't know.)
That's me. I do all these things, and then I lack the motivation to fix it...aside from quitting soda, which at this point doesn't mean shit to me.
I'm not going to lie. Talking and opening up to someone felt really good. It was nice to talk to someone who could help me realize what I'm doing. My maternal grandmother was very overweight and died of a heart attack at 50..and it wasn't her first. I don't want to be that. I have a massive fear of death as it is, so I don't want to bring it before it needs to be here. That is also something I will be talking about with the therapist.
I have more appointments to talk more with a therapist, and to see a medical dietician who specializes in people like me. They can try to fix me. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so quick to judge the situation. Maybe I can be free of these demons that I haven't been able to shake. Maybe someday I can be "normal" and "healthy". Maybe someday my friend Motivation will come and be a permanent part of my life. I'm 30 years old, and I have one shot at life. I don't want to leave the party before it's over. Hopefully seeing someone about my eating disorder and my anxiety will help me. Though I'm a bit ashamed of having an eating disorder, it felt good to know there is a name for it...if that makes sense? It's nice to really talk to someone about it candidly and openly. To say what I want about how I feel without filters.
Don't get me wrong. I have some great friends. There are about 3 people that I can really open up almost 100% to about my health literally any time of night or day. It's amazing. 1 is related, 1 has known me since middle school, and 1 I've strangely never met face to face, but all of these people have been there for me during my freak outs. I love these people, and all of my other friends who offer to talk to me, and even actively seek me out to make sure I'm okay.
Though I have these people, there's still small parts that I can't open up about. That's where the therapist comes in. Maybe this blog is a practice run of opening up more. I don't know. Am I crazy? Can my "issues" be overcome? I certainly hope so. I suppose only time will tell.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Dear Soda:
Since I'm a musical guy, I like to start my blogs with a musical reference, like lyrics. When I think of Soda, I think of the song "Dear Lie" by TLC. While the song is about a lie, I kind of apply it to my relationship with Soda. I know it sounds weird, but lyrics like "Get outta my mouth, Get outta my head, Get outta my mind, Stop puttin' words in my head, Get outta my mouth. You're nothing but trouble. Get outta my life. Get out of me." really speak to how I feel.
I don't remember when I had my first soda, but I've been drinking it since I was a kid. That's a lot of soda in my life. I remember times in my life where I'd buy a 2 liter of soda and just drink it out of the bottle. Soda is obviously unhealthy, and it's been a contributing factor to my obesity (Ugh..I fucking hate that word..) since I started to get bigger.
Now..I'm not gonna say that soda is the only thing that made me fat, because it's not, but it definitely helped me get to the weight I am today. I've tried cutting out soda before, but I always go back to it. I try to push it away, but it calls me back. It's an addiction, a wicked addiction. I tried recently to cut it out again, and it lasted a day. Then I stopped again for two days. Then I got to a point where that little voice in my head was telling me to stop trying to quit. I can't do it. Then I thought of the scene from The Nutty Professor when Sherman stood up and finally said "Yes I can!"
I can do this. I just need to believe I can do it. As of right now It's been 5 days. 5 long days. I've been crabby, I've been shaky, I've had withdrawls. One day, this addiction will be gone and stay gone. I hope.
I don't remember when I had my first soda, but I've been drinking it since I was a kid. That's a lot of soda in my life. I remember times in my life where I'd buy a 2 liter of soda and just drink it out of the bottle. Soda is obviously unhealthy, and it's been a contributing factor to my obesity (Ugh..I fucking hate that word..) since I started to get bigger.
Now..I'm not gonna say that soda is the only thing that made me fat, because it's not, but it definitely helped me get to the weight I am today. I've tried cutting out soda before, but I always go back to it. I try to push it away, but it calls me back. It's an addiction, a wicked addiction. I tried recently to cut it out again, and it lasted a day. Then I stopped again for two days. Then I got to a point where that little voice in my head was telling me to stop trying to quit. I can't do it. Then I thought of the scene from The Nutty Professor when Sherman stood up and finally said "Yes I can!"
I can do this. I just need to believe I can do it. As of right now It's been 5 days. 5 long days. I've been crabby, I've been shaky, I've had withdrawls. One day, this addiction will be gone and stay gone. I hope.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Here I go Again...
"I don't know where I'm going, but I sure know where I've been. Hanging on the promises in the songs of yesterday, and I've made up my mind. I ain't wastin' no more time. Here I go again."
Pretty fitting song lyrics for me. I'm not going to go into the history of my struggles with my weight. I've done that already in a previous post. I've gotten back on the weight loss horse, and decided I should blog again, I was about to create a blog, until I was reminded that I already have one. So here I am again.
I recently turned 30 years old. It was a real eye opener for me. Here I am 30 years old after years of struggling with my weight, and no matter how hard I fight, I get knocked down and I stay down. I can't do that anymore. I can't keep up steam for a month and let go for another year. I'm running out of time. I've gotten to a point where I get major anxiety that sometimes keeps me up at night. Every time I feel the slightest pain or pressure..I get scared. I get scared that this is it, and I'm going to die of a heart attack at the age of 30. It's been an obsession for months. I can't live in terror anymore. Living in terror of death isn't living. While thinking about my anxiety and why I have it, I think I have put a pin point on what is going on with me.
When I was younger, my maternal grandmother was quite overweight, and had a few heart attacks in her life, and at the age of 50 she died of heart problems. I also remember my mother scolding me about my weight for years after, even into adulthood, threatening that I too would die young of a heart attack. Then a few months ago, the man that owned the local comic book store dropped dead of a heart attack too, he was in his 50's. After John died, everything came back to me. My Grandmother, My mother's threats, and the incident that happened two years ago when I thought I was having a heart attack.
I am at a point where I can't live like this. I can't live in fear. I don't want to. I don't want to die. I want to live. I'm only 30 years old, and I want to enjoy life while I still can. I've been fat as long as I can remember. To those reading, I'm going to let you in on a secret: I'm an actor, and a good one. I get complimented all the time on my confidence..but people don't know that my confidence is fake. I'm not confident at all. I pretend that I'm sexy. I pretend that I'm fat and happy and proud of my body and it's a lie. I'm not. I look in the mirror and I feel like a monster. I feel like I'm disgusting. I have man tits. Men don't have tits! Well...they aren't supposed to at least. I want so badly to actually say that I love myself and actually MEAN it. I want to look in the mirror and be happy with who is looking back at me. I want to be healthy and have kids an a family and I can't do all that looking like this.
Maybe two weeks ago, I was at my friend Angie's house. She too is trying to lose some weight, and we have a friend named Calvin who was doing "Challenges" for his friends trying to lose weight. The challenge of the week that Angie told me about was doing push ups. I hadn't done push ups since middle school. I thought it sounded like a cool idea when Angie told me about it and said I can't do push ups, but I'll start next week.
Angie would have none of it. She told me about "Girl Pushups" which to me sounded like it wasn't a work out, but I was wrong. She commanded me to do them with her, and I did, and my arms killed. If she hadn't pushed me, I probably wouldn't have the courage to get back into this. So now, thanks to Angie, who pushes me the way I need to be pushed, I'm doing Calvin's weekly challenges, and working out at the gym again. I'm feeling good. I need to be pushed. So I'm thankful to have friends that are here to push me and make me do what I need to because they care about my health.
Why am I blogging all this? Does anyone care? Honestly, if people wanna read this, great. I'm mainly doing this for me. I'm an emotional eater. I keep my emotions and feelings (Most of them..and the ones I'm ashamed of) bottled deep inside of me, so I eat. I eat when I'm stressed, angry, sad and bored. I figure, maybe if I learn to let my feelings..all of my feelings..out through writing, I can tackle my eating problem while I work. As I write this, I'm about 375 lbs. I'm down from the last time I blogged..which is good.
Well..that's all for now. I'd like to blog more regularly. I think tomorrow I'll write about my relationship with Soda.
So thanks for reading..if you're reading this. And A special thank you to Angie and Calvin and everyone else who is supportive and pushing me. Thank you.
Pretty fitting song lyrics for me. I'm not going to go into the history of my struggles with my weight. I've done that already in a previous post. I've gotten back on the weight loss horse, and decided I should blog again, I was about to create a blog, until I was reminded that I already have one. So here I am again.
I recently turned 30 years old. It was a real eye opener for me. Here I am 30 years old after years of struggling with my weight, and no matter how hard I fight, I get knocked down and I stay down. I can't do that anymore. I can't keep up steam for a month and let go for another year. I'm running out of time. I've gotten to a point where I get major anxiety that sometimes keeps me up at night. Every time I feel the slightest pain or pressure..I get scared. I get scared that this is it, and I'm going to die of a heart attack at the age of 30. It's been an obsession for months. I can't live in terror anymore. Living in terror of death isn't living. While thinking about my anxiety and why I have it, I think I have put a pin point on what is going on with me.
When I was younger, my maternal grandmother was quite overweight, and had a few heart attacks in her life, and at the age of 50 she died of heart problems. I also remember my mother scolding me about my weight for years after, even into adulthood, threatening that I too would die young of a heart attack. Then a few months ago, the man that owned the local comic book store dropped dead of a heart attack too, he was in his 50's. After John died, everything came back to me. My Grandmother, My mother's threats, and the incident that happened two years ago when I thought I was having a heart attack.
I am at a point where I can't live like this. I can't live in fear. I don't want to. I don't want to die. I want to live. I'm only 30 years old, and I want to enjoy life while I still can. I've been fat as long as I can remember. To those reading, I'm going to let you in on a secret: I'm an actor, and a good one. I get complimented all the time on my confidence..but people don't know that my confidence is fake. I'm not confident at all. I pretend that I'm sexy. I pretend that I'm fat and happy and proud of my body and it's a lie. I'm not. I look in the mirror and I feel like a monster. I feel like I'm disgusting. I have man tits. Men don't have tits! Well...they aren't supposed to at least. I want so badly to actually say that I love myself and actually MEAN it. I want to look in the mirror and be happy with who is looking back at me. I want to be healthy and have kids an a family and I can't do all that looking like this.
Maybe two weeks ago, I was at my friend Angie's house. She too is trying to lose some weight, and we have a friend named Calvin who was doing "Challenges" for his friends trying to lose weight. The challenge of the week that Angie told me about was doing push ups. I hadn't done push ups since middle school. I thought it sounded like a cool idea when Angie told me about it and said I can't do push ups, but I'll start next week.
Angie would have none of it. She told me about "Girl Pushups" which to me sounded like it wasn't a work out, but I was wrong. She commanded me to do them with her, and I did, and my arms killed. If she hadn't pushed me, I probably wouldn't have the courage to get back into this. So now, thanks to Angie, who pushes me the way I need to be pushed, I'm doing Calvin's weekly challenges, and working out at the gym again. I'm feeling good. I need to be pushed. So I'm thankful to have friends that are here to push me and make me do what I need to because they care about my health.
Why am I blogging all this? Does anyone care? Honestly, if people wanna read this, great. I'm mainly doing this for me. I'm an emotional eater. I keep my emotions and feelings (Most of them..and the ones I'm ashamed of) bottled deep inside of me, so I eat. I eat when I'm stressed, angry, sad and bored. I figure, maybe if I learn to let my feelings..all of my feelings..out through writing, I can tackle my eating problem while I work. As I write this, I'm about 375 lbs. I'm down from the last time I blogged..which is good.
Well..that's all for now. I'd like to blog more regularly. I think tomorrow I'll write about my relationship with Soda.
So thanks for reading..if you're reading this. And A special thank you to Angie and Calvin and everyone else who is supportive and pushing me. Thank you.
The Scare..
I must apologize for my lack of blog activity. Life kinda got busy for a while. In the mean time, things did NOT go so well.
I had stopped soda for a while..then I had one once in a blue moon..and then it increased again. Not to the extent it was before, but still bad, that paired with eating fast food again, have made my mission a complete and utter failure.
Last night, I started feeling chest pressure. Danielle, of course was concerned that there could be something wrong with my heart. I went to the hospital, urgent care..and they had me checked out. They took an X-Ray, Did some blood work..and asked me to stay overnight for observasion. At this point I was petrified with fear. After some time passed, I felt better and asked to go home. They advised against it, but I couldn't handle an overnight stay at the hospital..and I really was feeling a little better, so they let me go home. Right after we left I threw up in the parking lot. Since then my stomach has been a little off..but that's normal for me afer vomiing. Presumably I threw up because A. I ate too much earlier, or B. I had a gas station chicken salad sandwich. So we'll see what happens.
They wanted me to do a stress test to do more checking on my heart. My doctor told me that being as big as I am, I am playing a major game with my mortality. He said that being this big can cause heart attack, diabetes, high blood pressure, etc. It was a MAJOR wake up call.
I was afraid of the concequences before..but now, to have a doctor tell me that I'm risking my life and this is serious? I really need to change. Danielle agreed to change with me.
As of today, I did make an apointment to see a doctor tomorrow, and schedule a stress test if they still think I need it. And very early this morning, I was called and told my blood work came back normal and nothing was wrong with my X-Ray. Which is a good sign. But the game isn't over. I HAVE to change. I HAVE to. Apparently the moderation thing doesn't work because I don't have good self control yet, but No more soda, No more fast food, smaller portions.
As of today, I did make an apointment to see a doctor tomorrow, and schedule a stress test if they still think I need it. And very early this morning, I was called and told my blood work came back normal and nothing was wrong with my X-Ray. Which is a good sign. But the game isn't over. I HAVE to change. I HAVE to. Apparently the moderation thing doesn't work because I don't have good self control yet, but No more soda, No more fast food, smaller portions.
This terrifies me guys. I don't want to die. I want to live. I want to be here for Danielle. I NEED to change. This time..it's not an option.
I plan to keep up with this more.
Thank you guys for reading. It means a lot to me.
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