Stop it With the Sad Eyes

No. Seriously. Stop.

I just want to have a normal conversation and not see hints of sadness and pity in your eyes. There is no room left at the kick ass pity party I'm throwing for myself. So take your wine and your gentle words the GTFO.

I want to get through one day, just ONE day, where I don't want pull your sad eyes out of your head. You know who you are. My friend, my family member, my co-worker. It's not that I don't love you. I do. And I know you love me and that's what brings us to sad eyes. But seriously. You're not helping. Not any more.

This thing I'm going through, you don't get it. I know you don't get it. I hope you never get it. I don't want you to EVER be in the same boat I am. And that's okay. But stop being sad for me. Help me change my perspective. Let's celebrate the things that are going right! Let's take joy in what I have been doing for myself and not dwell on the heartbreak that got me here. God, let's be ecstatic that we didn't freeze our nuts off this weekend. Whatever we celebrate, let's do it without the sad eyes.

Actually, let's just not talk about me at all. That would be great. We can cover the peripheral stuff: work, house, car, weather. Let's just leave those top layers on though. I'm okay with it. I'm comfortable enough with myself that I don't need to talk about my problems all the goddam time. And if I do want to talk about them, please find my pragmatism refreshing and honest, and don't perceive it as me trying to hide something, or putting on a "brave face". Fuck that shit. I'm an adult, dealing with a very adult issue. You know me well enough to know that I will tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it, and I'm okay dealing with adversity. I am just so over talking about my feelings with you. I'm over trying to explain where my head is at, because it is so far from anywhere you've been that it just doesn't matter.  I have zero expectations that you can look at me and honestly say "I understand". That's fine.

But...if you insist on giving me sad eyes, do me a favour, would you? Stop trying to fix me. I've got that part covered. I'm doing my very darndest to fix me and I don't need anyone else doing that for me. I know. You're being a good friend, family member, whatever, you care, you love me. But this journey is for me to take. Not you. Me. It's cold and lonely out here, but I have to do it on my own. Like some sort of vision quest, but my only guide is me, and I can check in with one person only, and I love you, but it's not you.

I'm not saying you can't feel sorrow for me (I would question our relationship a lot if you didn't actually). Do that, but be constructive about it. I need you to take me out of these dark moments, throw a little sunshine my way, remind me that life carries on. If you find yourself feeling sad for me, be happy with me instead.

And understand something else, in case it hasn't become clear yet. This is a very alienating thing to go through. I literally, have no one to talk to, to commiserate with. No one to ask if what I'm feeling is normal. If the hostility I have towards sad eyes, or my body is normal. And the only person who has a hint of what I'm experiencing first hand, experienced it in a completely different way. So that's not entirely helpful either.

So, I love you. So much. My life wouldn't be what it is without you. And I am so glad to know that you care so much about what's going on with me. You are truly wonderful. But seriously, stop it with the eyes. Let me enjoy my party of one. Let me be angry, and sad and overjoyed and underwhelmed. And make yourself the joy in my life. Let's just talk about you.

I've Got Feels

It's been 16 months since the worst day of my life. 16 months since my life changed forever. 16 months since I started the hardest, most personal journey I've ever been on. 16 months of heartbreak and stress and tears and very little laughter and happiness. I'm exhausted.

16 months ago, I miscarried my child. I was 12 weeks and it was right after thanksgiving. We were getting ready to tell the family. Getting ready to start buying all those fun things that go along with being pregnant. We were excited and were overflowing with joy. And just like that it was over.

In the moment we were very pragmatic about the whole thing. This happens to so many families. We aren't the only ones. We'll get pregnant again. But I tell you what...I have never felt so alone in my entire life. No one can say anything to make you feel better. No one can take away the emptiness that you carry with you each day. The pang of hurt you feel each time you see a beautiful pregnant woman, or that precious new baby. It stays with you. Always.

You go through life each day with this shadow on your shoulder and in your heart. No one can see it, no one knows it's there. It's a burden you carry silently. And even if you are able to talk about it, unless the person you are speaking to has been there, they don't get it. They do their best to provide you with comfort and words of wisdom, but what do they know? And then you stop talking to them about it, because you can see that they don't know what to do or say, that they are running out of patience and are frustrated as well. They mostly want you to be successful just so you'll stop talking about it. I can't say I blame them. It's hard thing to deal with regardless of what side of it you're on.

And really, it's not like we haven't been trying. Predictor kits, daily temperatures, doctor's appointments. No answers from anyone. Hell, I had a doctor tell me that trying for a year was equivalent to the feeling you get after a four day cold. It's annoying but not the end of the world and there's no point in getting upset about it. Well fuck that guy.  I'm on the waitlist to get in to the fertility clinic, but that's 6 months just to get a phone call. So here I sit, waiting. I feel like I'm waiting for a miracle.

Recently, I found out that my sister-in-law and best friend are expecting. I am over the moon for them, I really am. These are two women that are going to make amazing mothers and I can't wait to see them start this part of their lives. But what the fuck.

I recognize that their triumph is not a reflection of my failures. These are two separate things. But my yoga teacher asked me the other day how I felt about it. How I really felt. My answer? I'm pissed. I'm just so mad. Not at them. It's not their fault I'm struggling. I'm pissed at the situation. What makes everyone else so special? Why isn't it me? Why do i have to be the one to go through mind melting periods of resentment and sadness every month? What did I do to deserve this?

At least I have Chris. Bless my husband. He's the most wonderful, patient, wonderful man I could ever imagine. I'm so glad he's mine. He is just such a solid part of my life. This guy has been unwavering in his support of me during this whole ordeal. The breakdowns in the middle of the night, the mood swings, the ups and downs of everything, and managing his own feelings about all of it.  This guy hasn't stumbled. Love him.

So what's next? This is really a hurry up and wait game. Always waiting. Wondering what each month will bring. Hoping that this time it will be different. That this time we will be able to take the steps to move forward and celebrate again. But we'll get there. I know we will. One way or another we will be parents and we will rock it.

The Art of Snacking

The snack. It sneaks up on you and, I know for me, it's hard to keep track of how much you're actually eating. The snack is a sly guy, but it will no longer outsmart me. 

Recently, my amazing mom won a fairly prestigious award. It was commanded by the Queen! So, she had a party. And, as any good party should go, there were snacks, and cake, and alcohol. All good things. I had determined that I wasn't going to gorge myself. I was going to attack that food with a well laid out plan. The quiche, shrimp, bread, dips and cake would not win this battle. And, it didn't! 

Here's how I did it: I honed in on my top items. The things I was not going to leave behind. There was lots to choose from, leek and brie quiche, veggie quiche, salad rolls, fresh bread with hummus, tapenade, shrimp, pizza, and cake, and more I'm sure. I tried not to think about it. I gave myself a number (Now I hadn't had dinner, so I was generous here). I grabbed my small little plate, grabbed a couple pieces, and ate one at a time, rinse, and repeat, until I hit my quota. I got to go back to the food table quite a few times. I felt like I had eaten a ton! But, the next part was the hardest. 

You're at a party, you're socializing. Food and drink are par for the course in these kinds of situations. You almost look out of place if you don't have one or the other in hand. But there I was; I had hit my self imposed limit. I wasn't going to eat any more. But how was I going to overcome that temptation? Easy. Put the plate down, Porky! And that's just what I did. Threw my plate in the sink, and called it a day. Now clearly, this step seems kind of obvious. But for those that struggle with snacking, you know what I'm talking about. It's hard to stop unless the temptation is taken away. Now, there was still a table full of food, and I couldn't exactly clear it away. So I just avoided it. Got myself into a conversation and BOOM! It was time to go home and there was no more food temptation. And I felt really good about what I had accomplished. Point: Maren.

I have talked about it before. This whole thing is mind over matter. Tricking yourself into thinking that you're eating more than you are, and that you actually want less, until your body finally figures it out. Now, I'm not perfect. Almost, but not quite. The Chicken on the Way I had for lunch today was to die for. Just so greasy and good. And the corn fritters...Oh.My.God. I regret nothing. But it's the understanding that it's okay to have a treat like that every once in a while. There is no shame in having a cheat day, because there is no good reason to deprive myself of delicious food, whether it's good for me or not. I have my whole life ahead of me. And not enjoying it just isn't an option. Especially, since I can snack and eat Chicken on the Way and still lose 7.5 pounds! 

And.....I'm Back!

Okay I'm back. And shit's about to get real. 

Since we last spoke, I went through some life changing, heart breaking things. It made it difficult to focus on my health and all the things I was speaking about. Sometimes it's really hard to take your own advice. Sometimes its really hard to remember what's important and how to live your life again. But, slowly but surely, the sun starts shining, the birds start chirping (well not literally, it's January...seriously), and things start getting a little better and you can start to remember that there is a goal and no one else is going to do it for you so put down the chocolate Santa and get your ass off the couch. 

Prior to starting this adventure, any time I had fallen off the bandwagon, I had this huge sense of guilt, a little bit of self loathing and a big urge for more ice cream. This time was different and that's how I knew it would be better. I have no guilt about taking a hiatus from my journey. I had huge personal obstacles to overcome. That is what needed my attention, and that's what got it. I needed to give myself a little comfort and permission to heal on my own terms and that's what I did. The result? 8 pounds, a new (larger) dress size and a healthy mind. Worth it? Absolutely. 

So here I am. New Year, New Me. I'm a cliche. I'm comfortable with that. 

So, I know you're dying to know how things are going! Well, since January 1, I've lost 6 pounds. That's almost all of my "healing weight". That will be my first milestone. My first gold star. I can't weight...er...wait! 

I was told about a great online tool: www.myfitnesspal.com . It allows you to track all of your food, sets out what your daily caloric intake should be based on age, fitness level and all the science-y stuff. When I first started with it, it felt a lot like weight watchers. Tracking, measuring, counting, I wasn't sold. But, a co-worker had used it and lost 50 pounds in 7 months or something ridiculous like that. He looks amazing, so what the hell. It's not going to hurt anything to just give it a try. 

6 pounds in 3 weeks. I'm sold. I will say, it's not the fastest 6 pounds I've ever lost. Last time I did weight watchers, I did that in a week. This is what is convincing me that I'm now doing something right. Slow and steady, the weight is more likely to stay off and my body will change at a better rate and hopefully I won't have to get anything tucked in at the end of the day! 

So here we are, my fresh start on my fresh start. Leaving the last 6 months behind me and moving forward and into some smaller pants! 

So, I woke up the other morning, sleepily stumbled into the bathroom, started my morning routine, looked down...BAM! There was that stupid scale. Covered in dust, taunting me. So, I sidled up to it, thinking to myself "It's just a number! You're starting something, you didn't need a scale to get you there. This number is going to be nothing but an affirmation of your progress. It'll be FINE!" So, as my bare feet came down on it's dusty glass, I held my breath. I waited while it flashed at me, tried not to move, sucked my tummy in and finally....my number flashed. Well, I'm not going to tell you what it was, but I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't great, but I've seen worse.


I'm not going to let that number hold any power over me. I am no longer going to let it make me feel guilty or sad. I'm not going to let it loom over me or allow me to beat myself up over what it could mean. I'm using it only as a measure of where I've come from. The part that is really going to matter to me is how I feel. My energy levels, how my clothes fit, and how I hold myself are going to be the real markers of my progress. Not some number. 


I think we, too easily, fall into a pattern of letting that number trap us. I'm not saying that it's okay that we let our weight balloon and it doesn't matter as long as we feel good. But I'm saying there is nothing wrong with weighing a little more and being healthy and HAPPY! It's not impossible. For me I'm working on the healthy thing. If you've spent any time with me recently you'll know that I'm a pretty happy person so that's not a problem. 


So, how is my battle going?? I know you're dying to know! It's been great!! Just this morning, I made myself something extra delicious for breakfast. 1 Cup Pancakes, Tropical Yogurt, and Mango - I got the recipe from Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution book. SUPER easy! 

Your mouth is watering right?! So here's the recipe (it serves about 4)


For the Flavoured Yogurt: 
2 Ripe Bananas
a handful of unsweetened shredded coconut (I used sweetened because that's what I had)
1 Cup of Natural Yogurt


 Mix it all together - put it to the side


For the Pancakes:
1 Egg
1 cup flour
1 cup of milk
1 tsp. Baking Powder
sea salt 
2 mangoes (sliced)
2 tablespoons butter - I used coconut oil here and it was a great alternative
Lime


Mix the egg, flour, milk, baking powder and salt together until smooth. Heat your pan to medium, slap on the butter, let it melt, bake up some delicious pancakes, top with yogurt and mangoes, spritz with lime if you want and TA DA! Fabulous! 


This recipe is going to be super easy to adjust and make your own, change out fruits and flavours to your hearts content. This is the kind of foundation food I'm talking about! And the serving size is great - I went with two small pancakes rather than 1 big one, sticking with the whole perspective thing, put on about 1/4 yogurt and lots of mango. Slapped it all on a smaller plate and called it done! 


I am ready to start my day! I am ready to climb a mountain and I am ready...to paint the ceiling. Balls.


-M

Breakfast. We've always been told how important it is. That we should always make an effort to eat it. I'm sure my husband can testify the impact a breakfast meal has had on him. He is a diabetic and for the longest time wouldn't have his first meal until 10 or 11 in the morning, after starting work at least 4 hours prior. But, he starting getting some food in his system first thing and his energy levels went up, his insulin became more effective and he was just generally more pleasant. So, apparently, it works.

I love breakfast. It is, hands down, my most favourite meal to eat and prepare. There is just so much you can do when getting ready for that meal. The only downside, as with anything, is time. This morning I got to sleep in. I got to take my time and prepare myself a meal. Looked a little something like this...

Please take note of my smaller plate and bowl...seriously, that piece of toast looks HUGE! Had some scrambled eggs (1 whole egg, and an additional egg white), throw in some veggies (sauteed in water!), garlic, pepper, basil, oregano and parsley. Throw it on a piece of 12 grain bread, a side of fresh raspberries and a cup of coffee, sweetened with honey. It was D-E-L-I-C-I-O-U-S! AND! It felt great to make it. The smell of the cooking onions, the hint of herb wafting throughout the house, the tang of the raspberry. This is what I'm talking about people!! I felt good making it and I felt good eating it. I didn't follow a recipe, I just went with what I liked. I heard somewhere, that If you like certain flavours why not try combining them. If they are good apart, chances are they will be good together!

Sure, I played it safe, went with foods and flavours anyone would be comfortable with, but I made it my own. Everyone has to start somewhere. We've all heard of K.I.S.S right? Keep it simple, stupid. I think, when it comes to food, and my journey to understand it, this couldn't be more true. There is no reason this needs to be complicated.  I'll keep my approach to food similar to my approach to clothes...If I don't understand it, I'm probably not going to buy it. I'm going to start with a foundation, and accessorize, expanding my horizons bit by bit as I go.

But what am I going to do if I don't get to sleep in? I have to be at work at 5am tomorrow. That doesn't leave a ton of time to get up and make myself some pancakes. I struggle with this every morning. I just don't have the drive to get up extra early. Hell, I often shower the night before so I can get that extra bit of sleep. Getting up even earlier for breakfast is not my idea of a good time. Not when I have to be at work at 7:30. Sleep is part of a healthy lifestyle too, right?! So, this is my challenge for myself. Find some breakfast solutions. EXCITING breakfast solutions. I'm tired of packing oatmeal every morning, and dry cereal just isn't making the cut for me anymore. So, I'm off to explore, try new things. Make a plan and be successful.

I'm putting out a call to you too...tell me what's working for you. What do you do to get started in the morning? Let's share our stories! The successes, the failures, the laughter, the tears. Why? Well because..

Thanks guys!

-M

Coffee
Ice Cream
Cookies
Milk Chocolate
BREAD!


These are a few of my favourite things! These are the things I refuse to cut out of my life. 


I don't believe that we should cut the things we want out of our diet. What's the point? Often I just find myself resenting the diet gods for telling me ice cream is bad for me and that I can't eat it. We always want what we can't have, right? But, it's a slippery slope my friends. So my focus for this week...EVERYTHING IN MODERATION! 


It sounds so simple! It should be simple! We've all heard it our whole lives! There is such a thing as too much of a good thing! Chapman's Peanut Butter Frozen Yogurt...it's my latest weakness. It's a "I don't need a bowl" kind of thing. A, "if i pack as much as I can into one scoop, it's still just one scoop right? Doesn't matter if the scoop is the size of my head! It's just one!" kind of thing. It's wonderful! So, I'm going to try and use some reverse psychology (or something like that). Instead of one giant scoop, how about a smaller bowl? A smaller plate? A smaller glass? How about a change of perspective?


The more I think about it, I mean really sit and think, I discover that my problem is all in my perspective. And when I say perspective, I mean, on life and everything that goes with it.  I battled depression for a long time and learned to eat my feelings early. Throughout high school, it was a struggle. I think the only thing that saved me from ballooning back then was that I was an athlete. I probably burned off what I ate at a fairly consistent rate, I also had a little bit of a metabolism (just a touch though). But then, graduation happened. I was done with sports, my groups of friends changed and my emotions got out of control. I just couldn't manage them. There didn't seem to be enough food in the world to feed the appetite of my sadness. I started packing on the pounds and never got to feel any better. 


It wasn't until after I got married that I recognized I needed some additional support. I went to the doctor, got me some great little pills, and started my journey to recognizing who I really am. Now, 5 years later, I'm off the pills and I'm coming to terms with the person I am. I'm finally comfortable in my own skin. 


So, what does this have to do with weight loss? What does it not have to do with it?!? This is my beginning, this is where food and I started off. This is where I go back to in an effort to go forward. Maybe you can relate, maybe you can see yourself in different parts of my story, maybe you were just to scared to talk about it. But Honey! We are all in same boat, floating on the same ocean with the same waves beating against us every day. We are in this together! 
--------------------
Side note on depression - my personal feelings on the whole thing...it does not need to be a big ugly secret! Chances are, if you talk about it, you'll be hard pressed to find someone who hasn't been affected by it. I'm sure there is some crazy stat out there that says 1 in every 1 Canadian will suffer from depression in their lifetime. Talk about it, get help, be brave. I am strictly speaking from personal experience here, no medical background, just a chubby, formally sad, girl telling her story.