241.2 which is up .1 pound, which makes me happy because it means I’m actually going down. Well, I know I am. Main problem seems to be dizziness at night, and at other times of the day, which I assume is some form of hypoglycemia, so I need to push the protein. but I think I’ve had enough.
Yesterday — oatmeal with raspberries and brown sugar splenda. lunch – grilled chicken snack wrap at McD’s with limited bbq sauce. It’s one of the few non-fried, low calorie offerings at McD and I was on my way to the shrink at 1 and hadn’t eaten yet (I ate the oatmeal when I got home). Dinner was cajun catfish, roast cauliflower and quinoa. Plus grapes. Now shouldn’t that have been enough protein? Oh, I had a cup of oyster crackers too (5 oz. cup). Seems reasonable.
But I was really taken with Barbara’s Move It post on Wednesday — if you missed it go back and read it. She talked about listening to your body.
My body and I have a strange relationship. It betrayed me in the most fundamental way a body can betray a woman. I adored children, loved babysitting, wanted nothing more than half a dozen children (you can tell in my books — it’s often part of the epilogues – don’t hit me Jenny – of the ones I write). When I was in my late twenties I somehow knew I was going to have trouble conceiving. I never thought that I simply wouldn’t be able to.
We went through all sorts of things and procedures (though it was too early for IVF if you didn’t have tubal issues and my fallopians were just fine — it was my uterus and cervix that were screwy). And one cycle I got pregnant. I knew it immediately. Of course I got my period, thought it was late and I’m never late. And of course, no tests, no proof. But with approximately … 468 periods in my life (from 10 to 46) I knew if one single one felt different. (Actually there was a second one but I tried to ignore it since I’d been so shattered the first time).
And I’ve been terrified of cancer, but I suddenly got the sense that if I had cancer I would be fine. I would fight it and recover and be great. But I don’t know if those are listening to your body or part of an intermittent psychic ability (I’ve known certain bad things would happen, etc.).
I remember in my early thirties a friend was shocked that I couldn’t tell what my body was telling me. But I can’t. If I hurt I’m afraid I’m going to die, depending on my state of mind. I remember one day when I was depressed I was sure I had breast cancer (it was a long time ago — I have no idea why). I checked my breasts 4 times that day. (Almost as often as I checked my breasts the one cycle I was pregnant, and yes,the girls were very different when I was pregnant).
I went through a series of dizzy spells a few years ago, saw the heart specialist and had all sorts of tests and was convinced, absolutely convinced that something was terribly wrong. A little voice kept telling me that (or I kept telling me that). Turns out it was incredibly stupid — I couldn’t sing in the choir with bifocals. I couldn’t read music and look up and then down and then up with the lineless bifocals.
With the cyst that became borderline cancerous — sometimes I was panicky, but my doctor kept saying it was nothing, so I put it out of my mind and prepared to ignore it. It took almost seven years to suddenly become dangerous, but I was ready to cancel the appointment that sent the new doctor into overdrive, and I might have ignored it until it was too late (I’d already asked my regular doctor to do the gyn stuff and she said no, I needed a specialist). I got told so often (not by the new doctor) that it was nothing that I believed it.
Then we come to my knees. They’re weird. They’re fucked. Barbara had this great things where the Bad Wolf tells her “you’re too fat, that’s why your knees hurt, if you just lose weight everything will feel better” (or maybe that’s what my bad wolf says, but her BW and my BW are BFFs ) And I tell myself why get my knees replaced when my back hurts and my sciatic nerve hurts and my feet hurt? I should lose weight, and then maybe the other stuff will get better and it’ll make all that pain and rehab worthwhile. But it’s like waiting for your life to start until you lose weight. Your life is now (sez my Good Wolf).
And then, there’s my gut. I was terrified to have a colonoscopy because I was sure something dark and evil was lurking up there (mainly because I have irritable bowel syndrome so nothing is ever normal). And I was fine! A tiny polyp that they almost didn’t see.
But I’m feeling bloated, and I have a chronic ache from adhesions following the hysterectomy, but all sorts of other strange feelings going on. They told me to call if anything felt off (I’m down to two visits a year in follow up) but my CA125 was normal and they didn’t feel anything and I don’t know what my fucking body is telling me. I feel dizzy and I think I’m dying.
I know I make myself sick when I push too hard. I know stress makes me sick (I’m pushing too hard and stressed right now). I just wish I could close my eyes and listen and know what my body is telling me.
But as I said at the beginning, and should have gotten over by now, my body betrayed me. Every month the blood of my dead babies washed away. Maybe I’m trying to punish it back?
I want to walk. Hell, I want to dance, at least a little bit. But another part is that I’ve done this to my knees by eating, and part of me wants to punish myself for it.
Good God, I am totally fucked when it comes to my body, aren’t I? And yet I can look at myself and think I’m gorgeous (sometimes). And yet I could never ever say I’m pretty (another really loaded word).
Well, now I feel totally nuts, dumping all this. But Barbara’s post really got me thinking, and clearly this is a huge area I have to work on, because it’s a real psychic and emotional tangle once I open Pandora’s Box.
Any suggestions on how to go about working on it? (and no, that’s not the blogger’s question to get comments, that’s me needing help).