Showing posts with label chocolate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chocolate. Show all posts

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Writing as therapy: When the self saboteur comes visiting

Writing as therapy


This is going to be one of those posts that I whine about my failures. Particularly my bloody weight issues. It takes up so much of my headspace that this blog would be a lie if I didn't write about it here. And anyway, when I asked Shrink for his advice on how to get back on the diet bandwagon he said "blog about it".


The self saboteur has come again


Chocolate is my drug of choice these days and I am in full blown active addiction. Again.

I've gained back all 5kg I lost last year and I'm not liking it at all. Yet my self saboteur grabs another Malteaser and shoves it in my gob, the smooth chocolate coating combined with the perfectly crunchy centre soothes me, if only for a second.

Chocolate, cake, ice cream, lollies and lots of them. I'm even drinking more Diet Coke than I usually allow myself because my self saboteur says I can. She plays with the fact that I have absolutely no self control of my addictions especially when I've been rejected, criticised, blamed or judged poorly.

Last year when I quit sugar and did Droptober I felt so determined and full of motivation to lose weight and get healthy. I felt light, my moods were more stable, my headaches were gone, I slept better and woke up better. I felt clean and I even felt like I actually loved my body. It was such a sweet lovely feeling. And my self saboteur was nowhere to be seen!

That's all gone now. I feel heavy and toxic. My headaches are back and my joints ache. I'm back in my fat clothes and I certainly do not heart my body. I feel old. My self saboteur is back and she encourages me to consume yet another bowl of ice cream and chocolate sauce. It will make you feel better, she says. Who cares if you get fat, she insists, this tastes too good to give a shit. You've suffered and you deserve a reward. My self saboteur is very convincing.

I've put it out on my Facebook feed, and on this blog, so many times that I'm back on the wagon, this time will be it, blah, blah, blah. Then I get a little set back and she's back! She can smell my fears and sensitivities from a mile away!

Last night I put this tweet out there...


...and got this response


I wish it were that easy!

I hate myself when my self saboteur shows up but I feel completely powerless by her control over me. I am simply unable to sacrifice "short term gratification for the sake of long term goals" to quote my schema therapy book (which I highly recommend but should note I've also had extensive experience with group and one on one schema therapy). This is especially the case when I'm not feeling great about something.

You see I have the insufficient self control/self discipline schema (or as I call it my self saboteur). This is a basic summary:

"Insufficient Self-Control/Self-Discipline
This schema refers to the inability to tolerate any frustration in reaching one’s goals, as well as an inability to restrain expression of one’s impulses or feelings. When lack of self-control is extreme, criminal or addictive behavior rule your life. Parents who did not model self-control, or who did not adequately discipline their children, may predispose them to have this schema as adults."
- A Client’s Guide to Schema Therapy

I don't have tantrums any more (although I did up until about four years ago) but I'm impulsive. I always have been. I do things without thinking about the consequences, much like a toddler does. Although I know the consequences, I just choose to block them out during that moment of frustration or upset. Couple insufficient self control with my defectiveness schema and I'm the perfect candidate for addiction because I use the vice (in the past drugs and alcohol and now sugar) to overcome or avoid those feelings of defectiveness. It is a self defeating prophecy because by constantly failing to stem the impulsivity, and tell that bitch the self saboteur to fuck off, I'm just fueling the defectiveness. It is a vicious circle I've been playing in all my life.

"Defectiveness/Shame 
This schema refers to the belief that one is internally flawed, and that, if others get close, they will realize this and withdraw from the relationship. This feeling of being flawed and inadequate often leads to a strong sense of shame. Generally parents were very critical of their children and made them feel as if they were not worthy of being loved."
A Client’s Guide to Schema Therapy

I want to find that golden moment again where I make the decision to tell my self saboteur to go to hell, and flick that magic switch in my brain that turns me back into the person I love: Motivated, pumped, committed. I want to hold onto that chick forever but I never do.

I told you all a little while ago that I was seeing a guy that I really liked. I put the hard word on him and I waited for a response. And I waited. The prick kept me waiting, giving me little life lines along the way but never having the balls to come straight out and say what he needed to say. When it became clear that it was over I just ate more chocolate. My self saboteur sniffed rejection and said fuck it, what is the point in being slim if a man doesn't want you, you might as well alone and fat forever.

I've come to the realisation that my diet is related to whether or not I'm dating. I lose weight, feel good, start dating, meet someone, get complacent because the relationship isn't right, put on weight, the relationship is over, mourn with chocolate, want to start dating again, lose weight...


Yes, I am a geek that keeps a record of my weight in an Excel spreadsheet and have done so for 10 years!


My whole sense of self worth must be centred around whether or not a man could love me. My defective self thinks I am unlovable if I am overweight so my self saboteur swoops in to provide evidence of that fact. Are you with me?

It has been a month since I sent him that text asking him where our three months of dating was heading. I've gained 2.5kg in the last four weeks and 2kg in the month before (which I can attribute to my attempt to return to office work).

I don't want to blame that dick-face for my weight gain. Or my anxiety about work and my subsequent mood slide. I need to take responsibility for my own health. I just hate that when I feel like shit (defectiveness schema) I do my utmost to make myself feel shittier in the guise of trying to make myself feel better (insufficient self control schema).

I guess it is lucky I have a psych appointment this week to work this shit through.

If you made it this far through this "writing as therapy" session, thank you.



What are your coping mechanisms? Go for a nice long walk? Meditate? Or shove your gob full of chocolate cake like me?



V.




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Wednesday, October 31, 2012

babblingbandit.me does Droptober: It was all about the food

One of the best things about registering for Droptober - Just lose 2kg has been the return of my cooking mojo (for pictures see here). When I came home from London five years ago I lost it. I wrote about it back in 2010 so this has clearly been a long term issue. My cooking mojo has come and gone since 2007 but mostly I have been a lazy eater. Especially this year.

Back when I was working the usual Monday to Friday I always spent half my afternoon (if not more) thinking about what I would cook in the evening for dinner. I looked for recipes online or in my many cookbooks and then I picked up anything I needed from the supermarket on the way home. Preparing and cooking food was a way to wind down after a big day at the office. I loved it.

Post my break down in 2007, as my interest in food waned my waistline expanded - weird, right? You'd think I should have lost weight if I didn't care about food any more. But I replaced my drug and alcohol addictions with chocolate, lollies and cake. I ate whatever was easiest: cheese and crackers for dinner, or pizza delivery or greesy Chinese takeaway or coffee and biscuits. Lots of high fat and sugar loaded, low nutrition food.

I tried Lite n Easy, Jenny Craig and Weight Watchers. None of them inspired me to feel any love for fresh fruit and veggies. I even discussed it with my old psychiatrist: Why don't I care about cooking and eating well when it used to be such a part of my daily routine? She thought I might have an association with the whole preparing/cooking/eating ritual with having a glass of wine or four. But I didn't think that was it. Before I lived in London, I never drank during the week and I was cooking most nights then. There had to be more to it.

Now most of my family are watching their weight in the lead up to summer. Even my parents have a plan to get back on the weight loss bandwagon starting from 1 November. Yolanda was trying to give our mum a pep talk the other day to get her psyched. Yo told mum all she had to do was the following, for just one month to see what happens:
  1. Quit all sugar
  2. Stop eating butter and cheese
  3. Eat red meat only once a week
  4. Walk every day
That shouldn't be too hard. Yo didn't say she had to count calories or write down what she ate and calculate points or go to the gym. But our mum, the retired chef, exclaimed: "I'll just have to lose interest in food!". Now that is a weird theory, for sure. It makes the assumption that if you want to lose weight you can only eat boring food not worth having an interest in. I know, and I bet you know, that is so not the truth!

Personally, I believe the opposite and participating in Droptober has helped me realise:

When I feel good and care about myself, when I 'heart my body' and want to treat it right, my love affair with cooking and eating good food is reignited. 
The colour and vibrancy, the smells, textures and tastes of fresh fruit and vegetables, meat and nuts, seeds and legumes and grains... become alive again!


How good does this look? YUM!



So here I am, on the evening of the last day of Droptober. As of this morning I am DOWN 3.5kg since the beginning of the month, far exceeding the Droptober goal of losing just 2kg but 2.5kg short of personal goal of 6kg.

But I have achieved a HUGE amount:


I have gone 40 DAYS without a single bit of chocolate

I have been (almost) sugar free for 40 days

My mood has been stable for the whole month (minus 48 hours last weekend)

My energy levels have been high

The headaches I've been suffering from for YEARS have completely disappeared

And, last but by no means least, I have raised $330 (as of this evening)
for the Droptober charities Variety - The Children's Charity and Kid's for Life.


How good is all that!

Rather than singing yeehah and gorging on the nearest bit of chocolate I'm on to the next challenge: Sarah Wilson's "I quit sugar pre-Christmas program" and the BB sugar experiment continues. Plenty more on that to come.


V.






Thursday, September 6, 2012

The BB sugar experiment: I want the truth

Sugar really is the big thing at the moment. Since I started thinking about giving up that delicious white substance after reading this blog by another mum, I have read as much information as I can find about it. What I have discovered is a raging and divisive debate. A debate almost as passionate as the anthropogenic global warming (AGW) issue. Everyone seems to have an opinion about it; whether they are scientistsjournalistslawyersgovernment bodiesacademics, and so many of them are conflicting.


How could all this deliciousness be bad?


I am a sceptic by nature. I'm cynical too. The sceptical cynic! I am sceptical about diets that claim you only have to cut out one type of food and you'll lose weight. And I am particularly sceptical about claims that something natural, like fruit, could be bad for you. And, whoa, if someone tries to tell me that exercise is irrelevant to fat loss then, well, as much as I'd like to believe it, I just don't. I'm cynical about radical claims such as these, especially when people are making money from them.

But who am I to understand what the truth is and who I should believe? I'm just another person caught in the never ending cacophony of noise bombarding us about the human diet and how to stay fit and healthy.

The ABC published an analysis of the sugar debate, which pretty much sums up everything I've been reading, in a really clear and informative way. If you are thinking about giving up sugar, I recommend you read it here. Make sure you read the comments, they show you how inflamed the discussion has become. This interview with David Gillespie of Sweet Poison fame (also by the ABC) is interesting for the comments it ignites as well.

One aspect of the argument that really interests me is whether or not sugar is proven to be physically addictive. Dr Robert Lustig, who seems to be one of the loudest on the anti-sugar side, says that it is (check out this podcast here, if only to hear the dulcet tones of Alec Baldwin who interviews him). But then there's another bloke, a Mr David Benton, who says that there's no real evidence to prove that sugar is addictive for humans. You can read his paper here if you want. The most interesting bit I got was that this paper was funded by The World Sugar Research Organization. I'm not saying that this guy has been swayed by this fact but it puts doubt in my mind.

And that's what shits me about all this. This issue, just like the AGW issue, is political. Money and power are involved which makes it difficult to know who to believe. Well, it makes it me cynical about the players involved.

For me, personally, I think sugar is addictive. I think about it and respond to it in just the same way as I did illicit drugs before I got sober over four years ago. If there's chocolate in the house, I gotta eat it. If I'm feeling anxious or tired or sick or upset I gotta eat it. If I want to reward myself or celebrate I gotta eat it. And when I try to abstain from it I crave it like a crazy woman. I don't think I need more evidence than that!

But what about all the other claims about sugar? That sugar is worse for us than some fats, such as saturated fats like butter and animal fat? That sugar is just as bad for our livers as alcohol is? That it causes heart disease? That sugar is actually poison!?

How am I, or anyone else trying to wade through all this, suppose to know?

I just want to know the truth. But is there a truth? Is the 'science settled'? Just like the human induced climate change issue, I don't believe the sugar debate has been settled either.

I'll be keeping an open mind on both issues until they have.

V.

Disclosure
I am just your average chick trying to make sense of the information that's out there with my layman brain. I am writing this as I make my way through a bag of Darrell Lea Choc Coated Honeycomb. If I have made any misrepresentations of any person or fact it was an accident and I blame the chocolate!








Sunday, January 22, 2012

Make some changes and get a life

19 days into the new year and nothing has changed. I feel so stagnant, almost paralysed. Change is obviously what I need but so much fear holds me back from doing anything. I'm tired and bored and irritate easily.

I need to get a job.

I'm the only one who can take the turn off.
Picture borrowed from Lifehack.org

Yuck! I wrote those couple of lines above a few days ago. Nothing has changed but I don't feel as desperate as I did on Thursday. At least I don't think I do.

Mum and dad have taken Noo away for a couple of days so I can have a break. I miss him badly already. Whenever I drop him at school I don't feel bad. I know he loves preschool. But for some reason I'm racked with mother's guilt this afternoon. I feel guilty for shipping him off. For feeling like a need a break from parenting.

People have started to notice I'm not feeling 100%. My parents and even a couple of my friends have asked if I am ok. I don't know what to say. Most people think I have an easy life. I only have one child and I don't work and I live with my parents. Life should be simple right?

These are the things that are worrying me at the moment:

1. My diet is shocking. I have sugar everyday. I crave it. My band is in the perfect place. I have to eat slowly, consciously chewing small mouthfuls of non starchy foods. Oats and prunes for breakfast, salad for lunch, protein and veggies for dinner. Great. I'm satiated after about an entrĂ©e size portion. Even better. The problem is in between meals I crave snacky stuff like popcorn or lollies and I never resist the bad stuff. Also after dinner I have to have chocolate or ice cream or both. Usually I have a small cone with low fat vanilla ice cream with crushed peanuts and Ice Magic on top. To die for... literally.

My weight is hovering around 80-82kg. I have been this weight most of my adult life. While it is so much better than being between 100-102kg I'm still 10kg short of my goal. I feel fat and ugly. I feel like I'm aging so fast now. I feel like I've wasted the best years of my life being fat. Who cares if I'm a bit overweight when I'm old? Now is when it matters. Especially seeing as I'd like to find a 'mate'. And I don't want a fat partner either. I think it is disgusting if I'm honest. My gut, my legs, my arse, my arms. Fucking disgusting. I find it completely repellent on a man too. I'm not saying I need a perfect Michelle Bridges 12 fucking wbt body. Just a normal size 12 would be awesome. Why the fuck then can't I stick to any diet? Why do I shove that chocolate in my gob, order that ice cream, buy those lollies, bake those chocolate chip bikkies? Why?

2. Exercise is currently not a part of my life. But I want it to be. Fear holds me back. I bought a 10 pack of visits to Fitness First that I have to use before March. I went the first time last year when I was attempting 12wbt. I liked the class but the gym scared me. Living in the city the nearest gyms to me are obviously frequented by city workers. I went to the Bond Street Fitness First and it was full of hot men and women who were so fit and fabulous and generally intimidating for a fatty like me. Sounds like such a bad excuse, and it is I know, but I can't seem to get past it. I haven't been to our gym downstairs either. I'm just so fucking slack. Slack and lazy.

3. Uni has started freaking me out. I dropped out last study period because my heart wasn't in it any more. My anxiety was through the roof because I was also trying to find a job and doing RSVP trying to find a man as well as trying to do 12wbt by the book and failing. Something had to give so I gave up uni. My first application for special circumstances was rejected but finally my second was accepted. I've enrolled again in the same subject for the next study period which is a relief but I'm worried I'll fail again. The study period doesn't begin until 27 February so I really should use this time wisely and get started on redoing assignment 1 ahead of time.

4. The work situation scares me witless! I don't even want to write about it really. I know I need a job for my own sanity but having that kind of commitment terrifies me. For too long I haven't been expected anywhere really. Noo is the only one that makes me do anything and that is for love so it is ok. He loves me even when I fuck up. What if I actually do get a job and I don't do it right or I wake up every morning again hyperventilating with anxiety about having to go and perform around a bunch of strangers. And this market is so tight! Especially for part time admin roles. I've had so many rejections. Before my breakdown I got every job I ever interviewed for. I'm excellent at what I do but I can't seem to get a foot in the door anywhere now.

So that is it I think. My poor me middle class problems.

I should stop whining and start doing but I'm so tired. I need another life changing epiphany. That lightning bolt. That breakthrough. Just some sort of kick up the arse that gets me moving again.

V.








Friday, October 1, 2010

Sitting with it and riding it out

What a day! Its been full on. My 21 month old son has finally hit the "terrible twos". 

Noo started this morning by tearing apart the apartment because his grandmother and I was taking it slow to get ready to leave the house. Slow in that we weren't ready until 9.15am, rather than 8.30am which is about the time Noo has been getting down to daycare this week. We left the building with Noo attached to his teddy bear reins with me holding on and his Nanna pushing the stroller. We had to stop at every car while Noo exclaimed "car! car!" and then "door! door!" while he tried to open the door to every vehicle we passed making him look like a little child thief.

At this pace it was going to take us 2 hours to take the 15 minute walk into the CBD so, with a little force, I managed to get him screaming into the stroller to complete the trip. We were off to the Dymocks building for a coffee and so Noo could have some morning tea. As soon as we came into view of Darrell Lee (Australia's oldest confectionary shop) he started shouting "more! more!" which in Noo language means "feed me, feed me!". He has only just started to recognise that the lollie section at the supermarket and Darrell Lee are where good, yummy, delicious food experiences can happen. Just typing this is making me desperately want some Darrell Lee peanut brittle fingers right now. God, how I love that shop! 

Oh yeah! These rock! (Image owned by Darrell Lee)

Walking past it now is so hard as the distinctive smell of their chocolate wafts out the front door and tantilises your nostrals as you walk by. I must have passed by that store at least a dozen times since I've been banded and haven't gone in once, but god its hard. Its very much like when I first gave up booze and I still loved the smell of stale cigarettes and beer that permeated the doors of many an old pub throughout Sydney and I would slow my pace to get a whiff of that intoxicating aroma. Vile, I know, but back then I loved it yet managed to resist it and over time the smell eventually became disgusting to me.

So, back to today, we got to Dymocks and were able to get a little booth in the cafe. Noo had a milkshake and shared some raisin toast with mum and I had a cappuccino. All good until Noo slipped out of the booth and started bolting around the books shelves pulling out tomes on art and such. We quickly paid our bill and moved on down to the children's section where they have a train for little kids to climb all over. Noo loves it but this time the game included running up the stairs to the little seat in the train, running down them and then doing a loop around the entire floor, knocking into other customers, as he returned to the train to start all over again. Sales staff smiled and looked on politely but I could see this little performance was running thin after about the 6th time he did it.

More screaming and resisting and he was back in the stroller. The next stop was Myer (major Aussie department store) to buy some summer sandles for Noo. This is when something burst in my head and my anxiety levels rose to heights they haven't been for a long time. I found some sandles I liked and wanted Noo to try on. I managed to get Noo out of the stroller again and whipped off the trainers he was wearing and put on one sandle before he wriggled out of my arms and starting bolting/hobbling with one shoe on up the entire length of the floor before I could catch him. Man, that kid is fast! And I'm really slow. It was comedy gold for anyone watching on but for me, trying to catch a toddler as they run around racks of clothes where I can see him one minute and then he's gone the next, it was scary.

I managed to get him back to the shoe section and put the other sandle on and then off he went again. Up and down that bloody floor with me chasing after him. Insane! Finally I caught him and got him back in the stroller. With my heart racing I paid for the shoes and left. Unfortunately my heart didn't stop racing all afternoon. I felt terrible after that. On the verge of a full on panic attack. First time in yonks that has happened.

Finally Noo went to sleep and mum and I went to a cafe for lunch. We both ordered a smoke salmon salad which was nice but I only managed about a quarter of it and didn't dare try any of the sourdough that came with it. I was still feeling shocking at the cafe but started to unwind a bit as we sat there quietly talking while Noo slept on in his stroller.

It wasn't long though before the apple of my eye was awake again and wanting to get a move on. We left the cafe and started heading for home. Walking via Office Works I picked up a new keyboard for $14.95. Can you believe how cheap IT equipment has become over the years? $14.95! I also got half a terrabyte of memory in an external hard drive for $98 bucks! Bargain. I remember just about four years ago my flatmate in London bought half a terrabyte for about 300 quid and we thought that was such a massive amount of space for an external drive for a reasonable price. It amazes me everyday the rate at which technology evolves and my head spins trying to keep up with it.

By 3pm we were home but Noo's frantic mood continued. He teared around the apartment for most of the afternoon, deliberately doing things he knows he's not suppose to do, like climbing up on the dining table. He refused any real dinner opting for a bottle instead. When it came to bedtime our usual routine of story and me singing to him until he falls asleep had no chance of happening. Instead he screamed and shouted and cried until I let him out of the room and he went running to his Nan for cuddles as if I was the enemy. This has never happened before. Of course I don't take it personally but its hard all the same. He seemed so tormented all day. I was tormented! My mum though, she was cool as a cucumber. God, that's a whole other post, about what a legend my mum is.

These kind of days are the most challenging for the addict in me. I want something to instantly soothe me. To take it all away, that feeling of edginess, of doom. I used to use wine, or pot, or shopping, or food for that short term release from anxiety and today is really the first day since I've been banded that I've been challenged to accept the anxiety and sit with it and ride it out.

And I have survived. I'm kind of dreading going to bed, just to wake up in the morning to do it all over again, but that's my life. That's life with a child! What I'd do for a sleep in! But of course I wouldn't change any of it for the world.

Good night everyone.

V.

Monday, September 6, 2010

On the night before surgery...

Well, this is my "night before" blog. I've been thinking about what to write all day, as well as reading loads of other blogs, but I haven't been able to come up with any profound last words before I go under the knife, so I'm just going to type and see what comes out...

I've been quite consumed with anxiety about it all but not because I'm fearful of the surgery or the anesthetic. Quite the contrary, I don't mind being sedated and having that lovely dreamy feeling when you wake up. I'm not too scared about the pain either, I figure I endured a 39 hour labour when Noo was born, I can endure any pain that I might be inflicted with. What I'm really scared about is what losing weight means to me.

I am at the tail end of what has been a very long, very hard journey that started in 2007 when I had a massive breakdown.  One minute I was living and working in London, the next being admitted to a psychiatric and rehabilitation hospital in Sydney's eastern suburbs. Its been an incredibly hard and bumpy road that has found me here, typing this blog getting ready to be banded to help me shed the fat I've been hiding behind while I heal what have been some pretty heavy emotional scars.

Before 2007 I was a bubbly, funny and energetic party girl. I lived to party and have fun. Then something very bad happened and all that came crashing down. The year that followed was a living hell. I started to self medicate with drugs and alcohol and when I finally came back to Sydney it was to detox to save my life.

Getting sober at first was like being striped clean with bleach. I had nothing to help me hide from the thoughts in my mind and was forced to face what my life had become. I was 32 and I had nothing but a massive UK credit card debt and a serious drug and alcohol problem. I was not the cool party girl/rock chick, in control of her habits, as I had somehow managed to convince myself I was. In those three weeks in the hospital I began to realise I had no idea who I was. Since I was a shy teenager who discovered drinking alcohol gave me the confidence I could never have alone, I had made drinking and partying the central part of my personality. Now that it was gone I was left open like a raw weeping wound without a band aid. 

In the hospital I was put on various medications to help with detoxing and with the deep depression I now found myself in. Over the last three years I have tried eight different anti-depressants and about five different anti-psychotic/mood stabilisers (which I don't need any more). Some of these medications really affect your appetite and by not being able to drink, I was seriously drawn to food - particularly chocolate and any other sweet food.

Chocolate is addictive and affects the same neuro pathways as drugs and alcohol do. With my increased appetite thanks to whatever meds the psychiatrists had me on I became obsessed with chocolate - it was my new cocaine! 

Finally, after four admissions and almost a year to the day of that terrible thing that happened, I found out I was pregnant with my son. It was make or break time. Get sober and live and raise a little baby out the ashes that was my old life or, well, the or just doesn't bear thinking about.

So I was preggers. The first 14 weeks I had horrific morning sickness and couldn't eat so actually lost 13 kg.  I got down to my lowest weight since giving up the booze, etc, and was 83 kg as I headed into the second trimester. By the end of my pregnancy I was completely infatuated with lollies and chocolates and fruit and ice cream and anything sweet I could get my hands on! Most importantly though, I found a new hope and could finally see a future for myself as I fell deeply in love with the little baby that was growing inside me.

By the time Noo was born I was 104kg. In the few weeks and months following his birth my weight never really dropped below 95 kg.  I was hungry all the time. Seriously starving 24 hours a day. I would eat whenever he needed a feed, even throughout the night. My appetite was bigger than it had even been on those horrible mood stabilisers! I complained about it to my doctor and it was just put down to the fact I was breast feeding. I also started to get other symptoms - profusive sweating, sleeplessness, and extreme anxiety. I began to feel like the world was going to end. I had this overwhelming feeling all time of impending doom.

Once again I went back to my GP and I was seeing a psychiatrist weekly but still my symptoms were put down to being a new mother who was breastfeeding. I was also on a massive dose of an anti-depressant which was giving me a strange side effect that my head would experience a buzzing sensation whenever I moved. Both my GP and the psych put it down to anxiety and kept increasing my dose.

By the time Noo was just over 3 months old, I was losing it and finally I was admitted to a psych hospital again to come off my meds to try another type of anti-depressant. As is routine when you get admitted to these places, the hospital's GP ordered a stack of blood tests. I was later called in to see the doctor and told that my thyroid was malfunctioning and was extremely hyperactive, to the point where he thought I might have Graves Disease. I had my laptop with me so was straight on to Google when I got back to my room. Symptoms included, anxiety, fast metabolism causing increased appetite, profusive sweating... I could not believe it! Here I was thinking I had regressed back to the depressed state I was in back in 2007 and what really was the issue was that I had a thyroid problem! 

I was furious to say the least.  I'm still not over it really, will never be, that my doctors did not test my thyroid function given my extreme symptoms. I suffered for about 4 months with a newborn who I was struggling to care for because I was losing my mind. When I finally got to see an endocrinologist I was diagnosed with postpartum thyroiditis. Phew! That was well over a year ago and my recent appointment with the specialist confirmed that the thyroid disease has righted itself and is functioning at normal levels now.

Wow, this has become a much longer entry than I expected but I suppose it goes to how I find myself here, on the eve of my gastric band surgery.

I tried many diets in an attempt to lose the weight I had gained including Weight Watchers (x2), Jenny Craig and two sessions a week with a personal trainer. Still nothing was working, or it would work for a couple of weeks to a month and next thing I knew I was falling into bad habits again.

In one of my stints in rehab I met an alcoholic girl around my age who would eat very little food. I must have asked her about it and when she told me she had a gastric band I was completely intrigued. When my Jenny Craig diet failed last year, I started thinking more about that young woman and began researching all about laproscopic gastric band surgery. I have read everything, I think, there is to read about it, and I knew it was the thing for me.  I know I have a lower BMI than most people who have the procedure but for someone who has been in the overweight/obese category for most of my adult life, I really think its the right thing for me.

So I've been sober two and a bit years and I am the mother of the most wonderful little boy. Getting pregnant got me sober and being a parent keeps me sober.  I don't know if anyone would understand this but being obese also keeps me sober. I hardly ever go out at night and I haven't even thought about another relationship or men in general, since this whole saga began. At the beginning, I was too broken for a relationship, now I'm just too fat. But a healthy relationship is something that I want but it frightens me so much at the same time.

Will losing weight and feeling good about my body be enough to make me want to go out and meet people but also tempt me to drink again? Its a frightening thought but honestly, I don't think so (the drink party I mean, not the meeting people!). Writing this blog has made me realise that. I am so far away from that shell shocked girl that came back from London in June 2007. I am a strong and resilient woman who has come back from the brink of oblivion and I'm ready to let go of this mask, this armour, and let the new and fabulous me come out and shine!

Next time I post I will be banded! It is midnight so I must go to bed.

Vanessa

Thursday, September 2, 2010

The diet to end all diets

My anxiety is bordering on out of control at the moment. I'm so worried about the surgery now. Worried that my anxiety will cause another physical symptom that will stop me from having the surgery, worried I'll wake up after the anesthetic and wish I hadn't gone through with it, worried about food envy when other people are eating yummy stuff and I can only handle a few sips of water, worried about the pain, worried about not being able to give Noo Noo any proper cuddles for a week, worried that I will still eat bad food and not lose the weight after so much time, effort and money has gone into this - THE DIET TO END ALL DIETS (supposedly)!

I'm just managing to stop myself from screaming or crying or biting somebody's head off by resorting to my old standby - food. God, I've been a little piggy this week!

My other method of self soothing is shopping.  I absolutely love to shop. When I gave up cigs and booze I took up shopping and eating. I racked up a terrible credit card debt over a six months period last year which will take me five years to pay off.  What an idiot, hey! I love to buy shoes, clothes, books, cosmetics, electrical appliances, baby clothes, toys, have my hair done, massages, manicures, eat out - you name it, I love to spend money on it. I even love going grocery shopping. Anything where money changes hands. Crazy and expensive and self destructive.

The last couple of days I've enjoyed a little retail therapy. I bought some ultra comfy ecco walking shoes. They are red and fit my orthotics in them perfectly. They are much more suitable for long distance walking than my Converse were. If I'm going to be doing minimum half hour of exercise a day after this band goes in, I need decent walking shoes.

I also bought up supplies for my liquid diet - box of Optifast chocolate shakes, Berocca, V8, tomato juice, Up & Go, drinking yogurt, Iced Tea.

I got two new nighties for the hospital. They are quite nice considering they are Maggie T plus size nighties, simple and black knit.

I got my eyebrows shaped and my eyelashes tinted, as I figured I will not be up to applying make up next week.

I bought myself a book called The Non-Designers Design Book as it was recommended by my design teacher at TAFE as being pretty good book for the basics in design principles. While I was at Dymocks I also got Dad his birthday present - a text book for Photoshop Elements - which he is obsessed with at the moment, to put together all his travel photos into slide shows. 

I also went to Daryl Lee (Australia's best chocolate shop, in my view) and got him the "Dad's Bag" which is 1.2 kgs of choccies and lollies and of course had to get a couple of bags of my fave sweets while I was there.

I've been to my favourite bakery - The Central Baking Depot - and bought my favourite bread (sourdough) to consume over the next three days before bread will no longer be a part of my diet (sob, sob). Of course, also had to get some of their delicious white chocolate and date brownies and almond croissants to ensure I get my last fill of them too.

I've been to my favourite dumpling place twice this week for lunch and now I'm a little sick of those gorgeous little parcels of deliciousness. One of my good friends also took me out for my last steak at this lovely resaurant down at The Rocks called Pony Lounge & Dining.

I just wish my op was tomorrow! This week is dragging so badly (despite all the shopping and eating). I just want to get it over and done with. At least I have a few good things planned for the weekend to make the time pass more quickly including a friend's birthday dinner tomorrow night and my sister and I are going to take Noo to the zoo on Saturday, as long as the sunshine comes back.

Well, that is enough whinging and whining for me, I'm off to bed to have an early night.

V.

PS Thought I'd leave you with a design I've been working on for school all day using Photoshop. 

These are my initials
This was taken from a picture of my hand:

I got this tattoo in February 2008

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Denim jeans. I love them.

Can't believe this time next week I will be getting ready to go into hospital!

Only a week left and I haven't even been having any serious binges this weekend.  I hope its like when I quit drinking.  At the end I couldn't really even stomach it.  I was a full on beer and wine drinker when I lived in London but in the last couple of months before I finally kicked it for good, I couldn't stomach either unless it was doused in lemonade.  I hope it turns out the same with chocolate and lollies and all the other treats I've been shoving down my gob.  I even walked past family size blocks of Cadbury's for $2.50 on sale at Target today!  That's over half price!  There's also a tub of ice cream in the freezer I have not touched all weekend.  Crazy times.

Noo has been waking up at 5.30 am these last few mornings so I very tired so this entry will be brief.  Also, I have just spent the last hour writing a complaint email.  Won't go into details about it but gees, those kind of communications are exhausting.  I don't like confrontation but I will stand up for my rights.

I've started to get a little anxious about the op itself.  Oh and living on liquids for a couple of weeks, but mainly the pain of the operation and the recovery rate is concerning me slightly.  I have to rely on my dad and my sister to help with lifting my boy while I'm recovering and I don't want to burden them too much.  

Noo is 11.7kgs, I weighed him this afternoon.  I weighed in a 99kgs exactly.  The highest I've ever been is 104kgs but I was 9 months pregnant that time.  After Noo was born I went down to about 95 but that was it.  I've been hovering around 91-99kgs ever since and he is 20 months now.  I look like I've been preggers with the second kid for nearly two years!  

God, I can't wait til I start losing it again.  I remember when I was living overseas I hovered around 75-85kgs.  I hated being 85 kegs then but now I just dream of being in the 80s!  Oh my god, when I get to see a 7 on the scales I'll be crying tears of pure joy!

I went through a pile of jeans I've kept over the years that are too small for me.  I haven't been able to wear jeans at all this year because I refused to get a larger size.  I just can't wait to wear them again.  Denim jeans. I love them.  I even have the pair I used to wear clubbing when I was 22.  They are a size 12 and barely go on one leg now but I tell you what, I'm gonna get in those jeans again one day!  I also have a gorgeous pair of 7 For All  Mankind jeans I spent 250 quid on in 2007, just before I started stacking it on.  I fantasise about the day I can wear them again all the time.

Dreaming of the day...


With that thought I am going to go to bed now to dream of tight fitting denim wrapped around my little butt of the future!

Thank you for all your comments welcoming me to the blogging world.  Look forward to reading more of your stories.

V.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

My first post - how I got here...

Crikey! Can't believe I'm finally doing this. Well, there's two things I can't believe I'm doing... 1, getting a lap-band and 2, writing a blog about it.  I've been considering the both for so long, it seems a bit sureal now I'm actually sitting here a my laptop typing.

I'm very new (obviously) to the whole blogging world so my page will probably look really boring to start with but hopefully over time I'll be able to get something really good and worth reading cranking.

After a year of serious thought, consideration and research I finally went to see a surgeon yesterday about the possibility of getting banded.  I have a fairly low BMI for people considering lap-band surgery, at only 32 (175cms tall, 99.7kgs fat!) and I really had to convince the doc that this was the right option for me.

I've been overweight all my life and "obese" (BMI 30+) for about half of my adult life.  I've yo-yoed all over the place from being as skinny as 67kgs (23 years of age) to ballooning out to 95kgs in my mid twenties and then hovering around 75-83kgs for most of my late twenties/early thirties.  This time though I've been right up there between 91-100kgs for most of the last three years.

I've lost considerable amounts of weight in the past, only to put it straight back on again.  It takes up a lot of space having to have two lots of clothes in your wardrobe all the time - skinny clothes and fat clothes.  I'm tired of it.  This time I'm committed to losing 30kgs and keeping it off for good and the fat clothes are going to go out the door with it!

As I told the doc yesterday, I've tried everything - Weight Watchers several times, Jenny Craig, Lite n Easy, personal trainers, gym memberships, dieticians, everything.  Nothing has really helped me lose the weight and keep it off.

My problem used to be booze.  Majorly calorific in several ways - the grog you drink, the late night Maccas you have after you drink and the hangover alieviating fry up you have the next morning.  My old drinking habits provide enough good stories for a whole other blog, but I'll leave that to another time.  I've since given up the devil's juice and have been proudly sober for 2+ years.  The only problem being that I picked up a replacement addiction - sugar!  Sweet anything. Chocolate mainly and lollies, ice cream, cake, doughnuts, brownies, Tim Tams... The list goes on!

I've just got to find a way to give up the sugar (and fat) as well.  Surely if I can kick a 12 year binge drinking habit, I can rid myself of this food addiction!  A 12 step program maybe? I never really liked (who does?) alcoholics annonymous and I actually never felt I needed to go.  Falling pregnant with my son was what got me on the wagon in 2008 and he is what keeps me safely strapped on there everyday.  Being physically healthy is so important too when you've got a kid.  I don't want to drop dead of a heart attack before I'm 40 just because I'm a massive fan of Daryl Lee, Cadbury's and Lindt!

The band is going to be a great help to keep my portions under control and to make me more mindful of what and how I eat but I'm under no illusions that it will cure me of my sweet addiction. I'm hoping checking in here will assist me there and with the support of my family I will be able to kick this thing.  I'd like to get to a situation where I can "control eat" chocolate.  Like "controlled drinking" which is where a person with a drinking problem has to keep their alcohol consumption to a maximum of two standard drinks a day.  This method, in my view, is absolutely unsustainable because that is the whole nature of a drinking problem - you can't control your intake.  As they say in AA "a million drinks are never enough and one drink is too many", but does this have to apply to sugar with me?

Well, I'll soon find out.  I did manage to convince the doc that I was ready to give this a crack and my surgery is booked for Monday 23 August.  I'm so excited!  But extremely anxious at the same time.  This is it folks. Make or break time.


V.