Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Lolo Paleo Roundup 2 weeks after the fact

Okay, so here's my Paleo round up. I lost a few pounds. I'm not sure how many, somewhere between 3-5. That's only significant because I know that I increased my fat and calories significantly. So, that disproves the whole a calorie is a calorie argument.  My eczema has gone away and my skin has stopped breaking out since I stopped. So, poo on them for their claims of perfect skin. I had the worst menses of my life on it. I did have increased energy and was able to exercise a bunch. That was good. It was also good to have something to focus on that isn't IVF or our fertility issues. Now that I'm not doing Paleo, that's the focus and I hate it. We were supposed to start in 6 days, but I canceled it. I am too freaked out by the whole thing. First off, we don't have all the money we need and will have to put $10,000.00 on credit cards, which sucks and will take years to pay off, but that's the least of my problems. I just don't want something that fucking invasive to happen to my body. I spent the night crying as did the husband. We just want a family so badly and we've been trying for so long, and so many fucked up things have happened along the way these past 2 1/2 years of trying, and we're just so sad and we feel so depressed and so alone. But I'm not ready to start giving myself shots every day. I'm not ready to inject myself with hormones. The nurse was going through the list of side effects that I will no doubt feel and I started getting woozy and overwhelmed. I have no problem popping a xanax here and there or downing a glass (or 3) of wine when I'm needing a little extra comfort. But this... this is fucking scary. And I'm mortified. And we just don't know what to do.  Oh well. It is what it is. The husband is taking me away for the weekend, i don't know where to so we can try to not think about it for a few days. Stupid sperm.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Lolo- Puke, water, water, puke, puke, water, puke edition

Not feeling so hot this morning. Drank way more than my body needed and am feeling incredibly depressed, paranoid, regretful, embarrassed, ashamed, self-disgust, and all those other feelings that go along with losing myself in alcohol. I'm going to be honest, it's the third day in a row that I've drank too much. After many weeks of being abstinent from alcohol use, I totally lost my shit and started drinking. I have been very, very depressed and anxious lately and I've been doing everything right to help me through. I've been doing tons of yoga, I've been meditating and I've been running a lot and staying sober. But I cracked on Thursday night. I spent the morning on the phone with my nurse for my IVF procedure. I found that many of my fertility levels are beginning to change commensurate with someone who is aging. Probably a little prematurely as well. And I thought that I did it to myself by running too much, but the nurse said no. That in fact it has nothing to do with that. I just wanted to think I have some control in this situation. But I have none. First it was just my husband. When we started trying when I was 34, my levels were great. Now, my fertility is declining. It's not bad yet. But it will be soon. And I'm really feeling that loss of control. Things are just not working out the way I hoped they would. Of course they never do in life. It's hard to manage expectations with reality. But because of it, I feel so sad, so out of control. As I said, doing paleo and having a different focus was helpful. Not drinking, meditating, running, doing yoga, helpful. Drinking was not helpful. And I knew it wouldn't be. But on Thursday night. I just didn't want to feel anymore. I came home from work, and I knew that I wanted alcohol. So I did what I could to distract myself. I got my nails done (fire engine red!) I ran 3.5 miles. By the time I was done running, I came home and sat in my apartment in all my sweaty clothes. I knew there was a yoga class that I could go to. The bottle of wine in our wine fridge was taunting me. I finally lost my shit and poured a small glass and sat there drinking it slowly. I just didn't want to feel anymore. Then the husband called and said he was working late. Which gave me the opportunity to drink more. And before I knew it, I'd drank half the bottle. I spilled the rest out and went into the shower. I was very drunk. But it gets worse. I compulsively took two vicadon. The husband has them around the house from an old surgery. I just couldn't take being in my head anymore.  So the husband came home. He didn't say anything if he knew, I don't know if he did.  But that makes me hate myself more. Just knowing that I had that kind of behavior. I woke up so ashamed and miserable the next morning. The next day was our anniversary and we had three drinks each, which wasn't bad, I would have drank much more except the husband was moderating. He knows how to do that. Me, I'm not so good when the ETOH enters my system. Then yesterday, again, I tried to keep it clean by going to a yoga class, meditating, etc. But I lost my shit in the biggest way yet and binge drank in front of many people. Which is the worst and so embarrassing for me.  Because again, I just lose my shit when I drink. And I'm so much happier when I don't.   This IVF stuff is really, really bringing me down. I just don't want to do it. I don't want to take shots for 30 days. I don't want to take out loans for $28,000.00, I don't want to have surgery done to me to harvest my eggs. I don't want any of that. And it's not fair that I have to because it's my husband's fault that I'm not getting pregnant.  And so I'm resentful. And I feel anxious about it all the time. Birthdays since I've been trying to get pregnant have been awful. My 35th wasn't too bad, but my 36th, I just sat home and cried. The husband is taking me out of town this year so that doesn't happen again. But I've been anticipating it now for months. I can't take it anymore. 2+ years of trying to get pregnant, having no control, having my husband turn out to not be who I thought he was, sometimes it gets easier, but this week it's felt hard. So hard. I woke up at 3am this morning with all of that shame and intense anxiety about not remembering the second half of the night. And I've not been back to sleep since. I know that it will get better, and after we do our IVF and have the baby that this time will be forgotten. But it's just so fucking hard right now.  And my coping mechanisms which were so good for so many weeks, got really bad 4 days ago, and I feel so ashamed of myself. So disgusted with myself.  I know that I'll feel better in a few days. But for now, I just want to hide.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Koko: Bar Method Experiment, Day One

I'm eating well but I'm not eating totally paleo. I eat sugar (in the form of a tin of delicious spicy cocoa I am working my way through nearly daily) and occasional other stuff. Right now post workout I'm enjoying some saag paneer and a very small amount of basmati rice. I drink cream in my coffee when I'm not organized enough to have my own cup preloaded with coconut milk. (And I was truly abusing coconut milk there for a while so I've only just started having it in the house again this week.) All in all I feel a lot better than I did on the pure paleo plan. Again, though, I am aware I should myself and note that my mood triggers aren't all diet-related by a long shot. I'm using the bar a lot, doing Lotte Berk   and Bar Method dvds and running small runs a lot more frequently. I figure I may as well document what goes on with these workouts. The most  efficient way to do that will be to take measurements since these workouts are all about dropping sizes and toning. I'll do that and likely keep my numbers private a while until they change to a degree that I am happy posting them to no one inparticular.

Meantime, I am counting today as Day 1 of, let's say, a monthly goal of: Bar workouts 4 x a week and 2 small runs a week. Plus Tuesday dance class and Saturday bar class when I can make it.

After a month I expect to feel awesome. I will report!


Sunday, February 6, 2011

Koko, Hanging out post-30

I'm enjoying barre work and my girlfriends inspired me via the magic of Facebook to check back in on my dance class again. My abdominal muscles cramp in mysterious ways and I kind of almost feel like I'm getting a butt again. When I eat well I actually have energy to burn and running at night feels fun and nearly effortless. I'm checking myself to make sure my motivations aren't manic and that my aim is true. The sun seems to have me in an upswing and I'm spending this superbowl Sunday planting a garden with my kid.

Planning a paleo party is fun, but my god it's so much cheaper and easier to throw out some cheese and a baguette.

xo Koko

Friday, February 4, 2011

Koko's Roundup

So the upshot for me was that I completed three solid, excellent weeks of paleo. In a row. I got off track on my in-law birthday visit and then had this weird psychological thing that found me obsessing and grappling for sugar like no tomorrow in the homestretch. That could have been the corresponding PMS and Carrie-level period I had, but I attribute it more to my brain being unwilling to accept anymore highly-regimented eating.

Funny thing is now that the challenge is off I'm back to a pretty damn good paleo diet. I agree with you, Lolo, that the Whole 30 language is aggressive and off-putting. I remember reading one blogger ask, Why does paleo tend to attract such douches? I think the attitude expressed in the piece you linked to is largely why. As if "clean eating" is some sort of macho moral imperative. I also loathe that term, "eating clean," and the magical thinking that goes with it. And, if I'm being honest, a muscular Crossfit-type body is in no way my goal. (Hell yes, I want to be strong and a touch leaner but ass-kicking, though great for some, is not a major priority for me.) So I'm not a great poster girl for paleo as a "thing" even if I do, mostly, like the way grain- and dairy- and mostly-sugar-free eating makes me feel.

So my plan for myself around this blog is to check in once in a while to see how I feel. But I think I've learnt (YET AGAIN, MY GOD) that as much as booze and sugar make me fat, strict regimenting only makes me obsessed and kookoo.

Somewhere in the middle is a happier and healthier Koko.