My body’s in rebellion (and my mind has taken up the cause)

It’s mutiny–mutiny, I tell you.

I don’t get it; I’ve been exercising and eating better. I’ve been trying to take care of myself. I’ve been doing all the right things, right? So why do my joints feel like a combination of arthritis pain, morning joint stiffness, and bruising?

At first I thought that the exercise was a large factor in it, but now I’m not so sure. I’ve been exercising on a fairly regular basis for months now, so theoretically my body should be like, “Yeah, man, I got this.” Instead, my body’s saying, “Fuck you. Fuck you nine ways to Sunday.” I hurt–a lot–and I have a hard time moving around. Standing sucks, sitting sucks, walking sucks, lying down sucks, and stairs? Yeah, my body really says “fuck you” when it comes to stairs.

It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just my body that was on strike. Unfortunately, my mind has decided to join right on in and picket alongside. I am sleeping less and less since the exercise started, and I find myself almost afraid to sleep–and I have no idea why. What the hell would cause my mind to not want to sleep? It’s not like I’m weak and sickly to the point of needing to be afraid of falling asleep–on the contrary, I’d like to think that, despite the aching, I’m in better shape than I’ve been in years. I should be sleeping like a champ, yet here I am, lying in bed with my laptop, hoping I don’t doze off. What the hell?

Maybe my old friend Mania has decided to pay a visit. It could explain why I’m able to keep up with the exercise despite the exhaustion, and it could explain why my switch is stuck in the “on” position. If so, that sucks. I don’t really want to think that all this progress is just due to my mood being out of whack,

Aaaand exhaustion won. Before I even could finish the above sentence (and don’t ask me what I was going to say), I woke up with the laptop still in my lap and a groggy feeling comparable to being a tad drunk. I put the computer away and lay back down and managed to get some more sleep before it was time to feed the Rory monster. Still sore as hell though, and it wasn’t nearly enough sleep to “catch up.”

One of these days my stupid body will sort itself out. One of these days…

Frayed

They creak and groan, they scratch and scrape

They make the hairs raise on my nape

They cut, they slice, they tear, they rend

What they begin brings me to end

They know my dreams, they know my fears

They whisper nightmares in my ears

Day in, day out, they scream inside

And from these things I cannot hide

I try to run, try to get free

From demons born inside of me

I bite, I chew, I scratch and scrape

I ponder both my life and fate

I cry, I sob, I’m beyond words

I live in prison, trapped by nerves

Blurred lines

I very nearly did it again. No matter how much sleep I get or how well-rested I am, it seems that whenever I wake from a dream my body has difficulty fully waking up–which results in a lingering dream state that both confuses and disorients me.

Dreams are weird things. They are often completely nonsensical, yet while you’re in the dream it all makes perfect sense. Problem is, when I am in that asleep-yet-not-asleep state between dreaming and waking I tend to get “stuck” in dreamland. I will actually begin to physically engage in whatever task Dream Me was doing. This makes for some strange mornings.

This morning I woke up with an urgent need to log in to Facebook and write several posts. The content I wanted to write was fuzzy and odd, but I had to write it; after all, it was something that I’d been charged to do in a group I co-admin. Or on a page. Or both. Or maybe neither. Thankfully the posts I felt compelled to write were harmless, mere welcoming posts for people who had joined the page/group/whatever, but it’s kind of disturbing to think I very nearly actually typed up these posts. The same thing happened a couple of mornings ago, when I dreamed about something I had to do with both my phone and my husband’s; by the time I fully woke, I had my phone in my hand and was on the way to the other side of the room to get my husband’s phone.

It doesn’t help that I have a history of sleepwalking and other sleep-related activities. My body doesn’t know when to quit, I guess, so it literally dreams up stuff to do. It can quit that at any time, thank you very much.

I suppose it’s off to the doctor at some point. Surely there’s some kind of medicine to help me that will stave off these hyper-vivid dreams. It would be nice to get a full night’s sleep–and to wake up fully aware of what I’m doing. I don’t really dig this sense of urgency that compels me to continue in the vein of the dream I was having. The disorientation is so bad that once I finally do wake up all the way I can’t get back to sleep.

All in all, it’s a big hot mess. The lines between dreaming and waking are all jacked up, and if I don’t figure out what’s causing it I could end up doing something ridiculous before I realize I’m not asleep anymore.

Counting my losses

Having just finished week….uh…three of exercises after work a few days a week, I am already seeing an improvement, and it’s kind of startling me in more ways than one.

First off, I have noticed that I’m less sore the next day. I’m taking this as a good sign that I’m building up stamina and strength. I can, for the most part, do the individual exercises longer or for more reps. It feels pretty good, especially for a girl who never, never has been physically fit. Not really.

Secondly, I’m less winded. Again, I think it’s part of my general physical fitness improving. I’m wheezing less after exercises, which feels great (and there’s less chest pain from the wheezing, which also feels great lol).

Another improvement–which is more quantifiable–is my actual weight. I have lost more than ten pounds in the past couple of weeks. I still need to lose a substantial amount (damn near a whole person, or at least a small person), but that is more improvement than I’ve had in quite some time. My surgical scrubs at work fit better, and I’m not having to do the “pants dance” to get into them as much.

The best part? I’m still motivated!! Normally I’d have given up by now, at least on my own. With my friends and husband joining in and encouraging me, I have no desire to stop. Instead, I look forward to the Monday/Wednesday/Thursday workouts. I’m even truly disappointed if I have to miss an exercise session because of work. Disappointed that I can’t work my ass off! It kind of blows my mind a bit.

I’m really glad that my husband and our friends are there to help and encourage me. Without them cheering me on, I don’t know that I’d be able to do even ten seconds of planking, let alone be pushing a minute some days. Yeah, I’ve only made the whole minute I think once without having to drop to my knees or drop down altogether, but just the fact that I can make it even half a minute is amazing. I can do more push-ups than I ever could before, and exercises that used to have me almost in tears are becoming easier.

Bottom line: I. Feel. Great! If I’d known exercising could have been like this before, I wouldn’t be as obese as I am now!

 

Bye-bye cravings?

A couple of months ago, I started on a new medication to try to help me lose weight. Now I don’t know for sure yet if the medicine has taken effect (because I haven’t weighed myself in a good couple of weeks), but in the past week or so I’ve noticed that I’m eating much less than previously, to include not bingeing, eating smaller portions, and not eating as many high-calorie or high-sugar foods. I even saw a huge container of homemade cupcakes in the break room at work today and found myself having no desire to take one.

I’m really excited to weigh myself soon and see if there’s a difference. Between the decreased hunger and cravings and the increased exercise, I think I might start making progress. My clothes aren’t really too much “bigger” (except maybe my surgery scrubs) but even if I haven’t lost actual poundage I am feeling better about myself and not feeling as gross, fat, and sluggish. Sleep is still a foreign concept to my body, apparently, but otherwise I’m feeling good about my physical health lately.

Now it’s a matter of keeping it up. Maintaining. Telling myself I can do better and consciously avoiding the bad stuff. Going to exercise as often as I can. Basically, keep up what I’m doing and maybe I”ll lose some weight finally. After a couple of years wayyy up there, I’m ready to be down to at least a reasonable weight. Like, not obese. That would be nice.

Is it the medicine or just coincidence that my cravings are falling by the wayside? I don’t know yet, but I’m damn sure gonna keep doing what I’m doing. This will be great for my self-esteem and overall health for sure.

No rest for the weary

I swear I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind…

After a night with only two hours of sleep, I was going to type up a post that was 95% bitching about the insomnia. I actually did type it up, but I deleted it all. Because fuck the insomnia. I’m not going to let it win. I’m going to drink my coffee, take my shower, and get ready for the busy work day ahead. I’m going to do my job until it’s time for me to go home and then work out, eat dinner, and hopefully crash into a peaceful night’s sleep.

And if I don’t? Well then, it’s just going to be another long night.

Hypersensitive

I’ve gotten to that bend in the roller coaster again. I’d been fairly flat and level lately, but I suspect that the tracks are on a downslope as I get more and more sensitive to little things that shouldn’t bug me.

My biggest frustration stems from new knowledge that’s coming in that is slowing me down when it comes to utilization of said knowledge. I know, in theory, how to do these new things, but in practice I’m failing–big time. My mind is trying to apply the things I’ve learned and in the process I’m tripping all over myself…sometimes literally. I know that it’s a learning curve and I just have to be patient and keep practicing, but try telling that to me. I’m sure as hell not listening to it.

I’m also getting more sensitive, or maybe more paranoid, about what people think of me. Every time I hear derisive laughter and I don’t know what the people are talking about, I assume it must be about me. They’re making fun of someone and I’m weird, so they must be making fun of me. It’s not anything or anyone specific and it’s not logical in any way, but the thoughts come just the same.

These insecurities are really hitting me harder than they should, so I know it’s just my mind getting out of control again. Knowing that and pushing the insecurities aside are two different animals though; I can tell myself all day long that I’m worrying over nothing–it won’t make a difference. I’ll still find myself on the verge of tears for no good reason.

It’ll pass eventually–it always does–but it’s frustrating as hell when this part of my brain cycle hits.