out of the darkness and into the sun

In just short of sixty days, I'll be celebrating another birthday. I'll be getting closer to FORTY (gasp!) and by then, I'm fairly confident that I'll be able to say that I'm in better shape at {insert birthday number here} than I was ten birthdays ago.

That's exciting.

And better yet, thanks to recent prodding by my younger brother, I feel better than I have in ten birthdays. I saw my primary doctor last month and discussed some issues with him and after several moments of discussion and asking me to take some quizzes to evaluate my "symptoms", he put me on a low dose of an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety med.

That was thirty one days ago.

Now, feeling better was no where near immediate, as the pharmacist had warned me that it could take up to two weeks before I noticed anything different about how I felt. So I was prepared, although I went home and told Jon that I wished I could stay in bed "for the next two weeks".

A girl can dream.

Ten days or so ago, I started to notice that I'd backed away from the ledge a little bit. I feel calmer, so therefore, things at home and at work seem calmer and I'm even starting to enjoy things again, like teaching Sunday School and having dinner with my best friend.

I hated everyone and everything, you see. Well, that's to say that I felt like that was the case. I'd avoid anything I didn't have to do and wasn't really happy to do anything that I did have to do. And did more and more out of obligation too, which is no fun and no way to live.

Ten days ago, I started to feel as though the fog was lifting and as I type this, I have to tell you that even though I'm not really sure who my "old self" is, I'm starting to feel like maybe I can rediscover her, whoever she is. What she used to like, who she used to be, what she likes now, who she wants to be now.

The world is my oyster.

Watch out, I'm coming.

A Perfect Opportunity

I'll be honest, it started as "Oh, I'll just walk while we're on vacation and figure out my new routine when we get home."

I fully intended that; really, I did. But it's been 30 days.

Then I remembered how difficult it is to rise early enough to beat the all-too-eager nine year old out of bed. And the minute his eyes open, he's up. And he's talking. And asking questions. It's non-stop, let me tell ya.

I miss my routine of seeing the boys off to school and getting in my workout.

It's also no secret that I am an emotional eater. And I have had an increasingly difficult time managing that lately. I only gained a pound while we were on vacation, but I've fought that pound ever since; back and forth, back and forth.

I'm frustrated. Clearly, I needed to make a change and do it fast. Weight loss relapse is a slippery slope and in the past, I haven't really even paid attention to when it began coming at me. And I have no intention of getting back to 191 again, so I need to focus on what was working and quit worrying about things that clearly don't work.

So I decided that even though I'd hate every second, and trust me, I did, I needed to hit the treadmill this afternoon instead of opening a bag of chips and eating it to the bottom.
(I'm always telling the boys that even adults don't get to do what they want all the time, so it was time to take my own advice here.) And at the end of 3.12 miles, I didn't feel the need to eat chips, or even anything else, surprisingly.

My diet hasn't been the best the last 30 days either. Not horrible, but not anywhere near as good as it needs to be. This is a marathon, not a sprint, and when the going gets tough, I just need to dig deeper and get this done. I know that.

Truthfully, I've had a hard time deciding what my weight goal should be. I can't decide if a number (130) is what I'm shooting for or if a clothing size is better; and that's not really helping me get to where I wanna be either. But trust me, I'll figure it out.

I'm back in the saddle because this is where I need to be. And it feels good.