Be the author of your life story.

Yesterday was my 35th birthday. It was probably the best birthday I've had...which is weird considering I didn't do anything. I watched some TV, talked to a few friends, got some flowers from my aunt, had pizza with Mom and Dad followed by some super ridiculous dessert. I don't think I even left the house. Perfect. I had an amazing couple days with my sister last weekend going to a movie, out to dinner, out to breakfast, to a Portland Timbers soccer game...still, nothing profoundly epic, right? So what is different? What is so great about this birthday?

My attitude.

Those of you that have been following me for quite some time know how the last few years have been for me. Unemployed Student was my defining title for a couple of them and last year that downgraded to just plain Unemployed once I graduated. I would spend most of my days looking on the internet for job opportunities, jumping through any necessary hoops to apply, tweaking my resume to suit each job. More often than not I made myself look like I was dropping design like a bad habit and professing my unwavering desire to answer someone's phones for the rest of my life. I teetered on the edge of depression and sometimes fell head first into it. I found joy in nothing (especially blogging). I didn't want to be around anyone. And if I was forced to be around anyone I found it physically exhausting pretending like everything was ok with me and that I was still attempting to find the bright side to every situation.

My lowest lows were usually right before I was about to run out of unemployment money and when I wasn't sure what extensions I had left. As soon as I would find out I had another few weeks of grace I would breathe a sigh of relief and start all over again. I still didn't want to hang out with friends, though. I didn't want to explain what I was and wasn't doing. I didn't have it in me to listen to the great things they were doing...inevitably feeling worse about myself if I did. I didn't feel like I was particularly interesting to be around, so I continued to stay to myself. It's better to drown alone then to take everyone down with you as you scratch and claw your way back out, right?

Eventually, I stopped worrying so much. Eventually, I remembered that everything just has a way of working out for me. It always has. I have been quite lucky that way. I might worry and stress at the time, but my life is one example after another of how everything that happens is proven to be for the best. That everything has a way of working itself out and I come out stronger in the end. So what if I lost my job in February of 2008? I had grown to hate that job and losing it was a weight lifted off my shoulders and a chance to throw myself into school. So what if all the resumes I sent out resulted in zero phone calls? I have spent the last year dipping my talented hands into so many pots that I can now say that I'm a Freelance Graphic Designer, that I'm a writer, that I'm an artist, that I'm self-employed, that I'm a creative dynamo living the dream. Eventually, I surrounded myself with love and gratitude for everything. I stopped letting everyone else's baggage become my own, stopped walking on eggshells, stopped internalizing, stopped letting everyone else shine brighter than myself. Eventually, my weight stopped defining me, stopped holding me back, stopped mattering so. damn. much.

I find joy in everything now. I wake up happy. I think of something I want to do and I do it, or at least put into action whatever necessary to achieve it. I have sent away for my passport, finally, and I'm going to go to Ireland next Spring. I've lost almost 15 pounds in the last couple months. I visualize what I want and it happens. I said I would win the lottery, I won $4.00 (I need to learn to be more specific). I've always wanted to go to sporting events more often and now Portland has an MLS (soccer) team I couldn't be more excited about. So, I got my sister and I tickets to a few games and got us on the waiting list for season tickets for next year. A couple weeks ago I wanted a new tattoo, I went and got it the next day. It's big and on my forearm. It's to remind me to do something every day to better my life. It's working.

All these years of talking about bettering my life, of not taking the backseat approach. All this time wasted waiting to lose weight before doing anything. I'll get my haircut when I lose 20 pounds. I'll buy new clothes when I lose 50 pounds. I'll start traveling when I lose 100 pounds. No more. Maybe I won't get on a plane until I've lost more weight, but no one says I can't drive down to San Francisco or up to Canada. I've lived a life written by everyone but me. A life dictated by fear. I am the author of my life story and I'm choosing to make it an adventure. What will you write?

Succeeding at failure

I feel like crap. There, I said it. I've been nearly completely sedentary since school got out because, well, I'm depressed like no other. Yeah, I said that, too. I look for jobs and I play that game (which has even lost some of it's appeal for me lately). The rest of the time? I have no idea. All the days are running together for me. I'm not really watching much TV, not exercising, not socializing...that's for sure. I'm not doing meal preps, not planning my next great scheme, not honing my design talents. I clean every now and then. I take naps with Lola a LOT. I'm not really going anywhere...I can make $20 of gas last over a month usually. I've lost my spark...big time.

Have you ever been truly and utterly depressed? It's a viciously fucked up experience for sure. It's like you've been slipped one of those crazy drugs that paralyzes you, but you are completely aware of everything around you. You feel pain and emotions (although happy is an emotion that is scarcely apparent), but you are unable to move. You want to change, but you can't. You crave that happy person you were, but you can't find her. You could be on broadway with the acting skills you've acquired because you know that everyone in your world would implode if they knew how you were REALLY feeling. So, you pretend. Whenever you are around other people you pretend that everything is fine and nothing could get you down. You act as if you are completely in control. Well, you hate acting, but you are quite smitten with hiding...and so you do.

I haven't seen a single friend since I graduated. Until very recently, I hadn't even been to my sister's. My mom is convinced that, if not for the fact that my bathroom is still being remodeled and I need to use theirs, they would never see me even though I live next door. I've become a hermit. I've been depressed before, but it's only lasted a few weeks. This time, I can't quite seem to snap out of it. The only thing that I feel will do the trick is a job, but that has been nothing but crickets.

I feel like such a failure. Every day I eventually get out of bed and hate myself. That's a tough thing to face on a daily basis. I put on sweats and other stretchy garments and spend a couple hours convincing myself that hygiene is still important. I've abandoned water for diet pop, coffee, and tea. I won't eat until 2:00 and half the time it's fast food. I've gained back anything I lost and on the rare occasion that I do put on jeans, I am smacked with the reality that even my big jeans are tight. Enter more self-loathing...here.

I had a wow moment the other day, though. Something that has stuck with me for weeks and slowly pushed me into action the more I thought about it. Wait for it...

The only thing I've been consistently successful at is setting myself up for failure.

I know, right?! Since this is a weight loss blog (usually) we will address my failures as it pertains to that. Every time I recommit I set grand schemes full of good intention. I make unrealistic goals and jump in head first to a complete bog of failure. The logical person in me knows I cannot do it, but the blind optimist just says, "You go girl. You got this." And so I go...until I don't. I set out to run marathons, when I can't even walk a mile.

We are bypassing the "It's my Dad's fault" portion of my self-realization and fast forwarding to the "What do I intend to do about it" bit. I've decided that baby steps with a side of try harder is in order. Right now, every day that I move is a win. Every day that I eat breakfast is a win. More water, less pop? Win. No fast food? Win. These are the things I'm starting with. And what is my current weight loss goal? Tune in tomorrow and find out.

Three hundred fifty four (354)

When you see something like a legal document and it is addressing numbers it often spells the numbers out and follows it with its fraternal twin sister, Numeral, in parenthesis. This is done, I assume, to ensure there is no miscommunication of just what that number is. Can't read "nine"? Here, let me dummy it down for you...(9). Better? Good. Three hundred fifty four (354) is what I weigh today according to my parent's scale. The good news is, my massive pity party that was extended over the last couple months didn't cause me to gain any weight. In fact, I lost a whopping two (2) pounds since I last weighed in. The bad news, I've only lost a whopping two (2) pounds since I last weighed in (the middle of May was it?).

So, what have I been doing? Absolutely nothing. At first I was renovating and moving into the house connected to mom and dad. I now have my own place again. Now I sit on my computer nearly all day. I skip meals and then eat a bunch of ice cream. I avoid friends and family as often as possible because I'm feeling so anti-social and because I don't want to be seen. I'm disgusted with myself. My appearance, my unemployed state, everything. I look for jobs, for which there are none, and it depresses me more and more. For the first time in my life I don't have a purpose. When I first lost my job it was ok because I already knew I was going back to school. School became my purpose. Now that school is over I have no real reason to even get out of bed.

I have never been much of a "gamer", but found one I seem to be addicted to. What's odd is that this game is nothing but being social in a virtual sense. It's like SIMS meets Skype or Yahoo. It's called SecondLife. Actually, in that game I am represented by a hot, curvy, voluptuous beauty that everyone seems to like. I can look like anything I want and be anything I want. I've made her look a lot like the real me...except my size. Most of the girls in this game are stick thin. I chose not to be. I chose to have a "real" woman's body with proportionate curves. She is fierce. She is what I wish I was.

What's strange is that as I sit here all this time watching myself depicted on screen by "Lila" and seeing this gorgeous girl that somewhat resembles me it has started to motivate me more and more. Her hair is my hair, her eyes are my eyes, her sassy ass attitude? All me. Her boobs are way too perky and she never has to wear a bra, but that is ME...as I wish I were. It's a mostly realistic version of the body I want.

So far Lila has gotten me to start playing Wii again and doing my fitness games and today I set my Bodybugg back up (haven't worn it since a few weeks after graduation). She's got me skipping less and less meals and making decent decisions, but she'll never get me to stop eating ice cream. I'm setting goals today and trying to snap out of this funk. I have no money. I have no job. I stay in my house...alone. Something's gotta give. So, what do I usually do when I feel I have no control over my life? I find something I can control and obsess over it. That thing is making myself be as fierce as this doppelganger named Lila. Hey...don't judge. You hang your motivational photos on your fridge and I'll hang Lila on mine.

The road to hell was paved with good intentions

I made it back to the gym yesterday. I had all kinds of good intentions when I got there, but everything came undone. My ipod was dead so I had no real entertainment. I was texting someone for a little bit, but they had to go. I stopped the treadmill after 30 minutes and was going to move on to the bike, but I got all pass outty. I didn't eat before I went. I felt super weak. I left.

I went to the grocery store on the way home and got healthy food. Then I went home and made a giant salad. I took about 5 bites and couldn't eat anymore. I set it aside and did other stuff and came back to it. I had to force feed myself, basically, and still didn't eat it all. I made up two big tacos for dinner and could barely eat one. I threw the other one away. I felt gross.

This eating thing is not because of the boy. This eating thing started before that took a turn. I was skipping meals most of the summer. He actually would give me shit for it. This eating thing has been going on for a couple months now. I just, on most days, look at food like a complete inconvenience. I'm put out by having to eat. I don't know if that's good or bad. I sit in front of a plate of food and am annoyed by it, disgusted by it, repulsed by the fact that it has consumed so much of my life. I eat only because I know I have to, not because I want to. It's kind of scary for me. Every once in a while I find that I am ravenously hungry...I still don't want to eat. If I do, I'm usually only a few bites in before I want to throw it all away.

Is this what skinny people are like? Is this the relationship a person is supposed to have with food? Put out by having to eat and doing it only because they have to? Stopping after just a few bites because they just can't bring themselves to eat anymore? I hardly think so. I think I've gone from one extreme to another. At least this will get me closer to a goal of some kind...or kill me.

Does anyone have any duct tape?

I am a firm believer that duct tape will fix most anything. I am in need of desperate repairs. I seem to have acquired a broken heart and need to wrap it up tight in a large amount of duct tape. I told that stupid boy, the stupid boy that I somehow managed to fall in love with through all of this, that if he can't respect me or bring a fraction of what I do to the table to PLEASE leave me alone. I told that stupid boy that I would not call him or text him again. That if I hear from him it will be because he wants me in his life. I told him I wasn't putting a time frame on when this decision had to be made, but I wasn't going to keep working so hard for something his actions suggest that he doesn't want regardless of what his words are saying. This was not my smartest move. I thought I was being bold and standing up for myself again. What I have instead done is put myself back in the land of limbo. What I have done is allowed myself to sit here wondering if he will call, hoping he will call, all the while knowing that he probably won't. Am dumb, am sad, am a hopeless romantic.

I've hardly been eating for the last month. Skipping meals has taken on a whole new meaning. Some days all I'll have had by the time dinner rolls around is an apple and maybe a protein bar. When I eat dinner I eat very little before I just can't bring myself to take another bite. I probably only sit down to the table to attempt it so that mom doesn't go bat shit crazy over how I'm not eating, talking, living. The fucked up part of that is that I'm not losing weight. Well, not as much as you would expect after a month of this. I got on mom's scale this morning and am officially under 350, but I don't know how that compares to the scale I was using at the gym before classes started. Ah, ya caught me, still haven't been to the gym since the last you heard. This term is kicking my ass in ways only Oscar De La Hoya can comprehend. There are only four weeks left to it and then I believe I have three weeks off for the holidays. Next term I will only have to go to campus on Mondays and Tuesdays and then will have a couple online classes as well. This should help my ability to get to the gym. I hope.

I have not given up. I've steered clear of a lot of the fast food my schedule would normally have me partaking in and I've even omitted a lot of ice cream from my life. Afterall, I used to eat Ben & Jerry's with that stupid boy at his house. So, about that duct tape?

Life raft anyone?

I'm struggling. Big time. I'm hardly sleeping, hardly eating, hardly keeping my head above water. I'm sad. I'm lonely. I'm stressed. I'm...drowning.

School is fucking insane. I haven't weighed since the gain of a couple weeks ago. Insertnamehere and I haven't seen each other in two weeks and it's likely not going to change anytime soon. Sadly, that's not so much my fault as it is his. He's just as busy as I am and, well, I'm/we/this is on the back burner for a while so that he can sort some things out. I miss him. I miss the escape that spending time with him provided. I miss how he calms me and right now, I need a lot of calming. I'm on edge. I'm going to snap. I'm scheduling a breakdown for about 1:30 this afternoon. Should be fun.

On that note, back to homework. It's all I do these days. All day, and often all night. All week and all weekend. Mama needs a break, but not for another 8 weeks. FML.

Tally, Ho.

I was at Insertnamehere's house this morning (more on that later). I was dressed for the gym. I didn't want to go to the gym. But, I had to go because I needed the scale. Today is weigh in day. This guy suggested that I start with 10 minutes, see how I feel, and if it wasn't good, I could stop. We had an accord. I went in with an open mind. I planned to get on the scale before and after my workout to see what the difference was (ended up being a pound worth of difference). I did the treadmill for 10 minutes. I did the recumbent bike for 20 minutes. I did the elliptical for 10 minutes. Mama's legs were weak. I carefully made my way back to the scale. And what's the tally, Ho? I lost 4.5 pounds. 356.1. Down 9.9 pounds. Word.

Insertnamehere and I finally talked yesterday. First on the phone, then at his house. A lot was said, mostly by me. I broke out some good stuff. Like a grown up even. Things fresh out of some movie, I'm sure, like, "I'm not trying to save you. I'm trying to be your friend and help you save yourself." When the conversation seemed to be winding down he said he wanted to ask me something. I was nervous. I thought he was going to ask for his key back. He said, "Can we just go hold hands and watch Shrek now?" I smiled, told him that he sucked, and he agreed. Backstory: about a month ago when we were talking on the phone he told me that he and his 2.5 year old daughter were holding hands and watching Shrek. I told him that sounded awesome and I wanted to. He said we would, but hadn't yet. Now we have. Before we actually started watching the movie I hugged him and whispered, "Can we just go back to how it was before, Papi?" He said he would like that. Then I asked him to please talk to me when he started freaking out again so that we didn't end up here again. He agreed. We shall see. Boys are still stupid.

On another note, I find it slightly creepy that just a few days ago I had two posts that referenced Dirty Dancing and Patrick Swayze and today he lost his battle to cancer. This happens to me a lot. Just sayin'.

How many calories do you burn wallowing in your own self-pity?

Though you would think laying in bed from 6 pm until 8 am tossing and turning, reeling from internal strife, fighting to sleep, unable to stop your brain from spinning would burn innumerable amounts of calories, the fact is...it won't. The chances of it doing you any good at all are about as good as my chances of winning the title of Miss. Fitness USA. Last night I went downstairs to eat dinner after my last entry and made the executive decision to not eat. I wasn't hungry. Instead, I came upstairs and crawled in bed. I wallowed. I stewed. I came up with all these things I should say, but likely won't. I came up with questions and made up my own answers. I toggled ever so efficiently between angry and sad. For those that think I'm a hot mess in need of medication, I'm not. This is just what I do when my life is in limbo. I think I've mentioned this before, but fat girls can't limbo. I like definitive answers. I like knowing where I stand and what's around the corner. I like having some sense of control. Yesterday I felt like I had none. Toss in the fact that the height of the limbo bar has been set by someone I care a lot about and this is the result.

He and I were supposed to talk last night; we didn't. After a few texts about how we WOULD be talking last night, I got one that said we wouldn't be. It was the last night that his cousin would be staying there and they were "talking about life." What I wanted to say in response was, "Don't call me for a while," or "Have another beer and fuck off." Instead, a simple "Goodnight, Insertnamehere." His name is nearly always replaced with a term of endearment when I address him, so, the simple fact that I used his name probably got my point across without me lowering myself to levels I'd regret. I figured I'd wait until this morning and see how I felt. This is progress for me. And what was the result? I took back some of the control. I determined what height the bar would be set today. I gave his indecisive "time out" the middle finger and told him that I didn't want to talk to him the rest of today, or tomorrow for that matter. I wasn't going to sit here waiting for texts or calls that likely wouldn't happen. He has company in town tonight so I doubt it's going to affect him all that much, but it made all the difference for me. He said everyone (company, cousin, daughter) would be gone tomorrow night and things would be more settled. That we could talk. He sounded sad. I hung up.

I started cleaning, frantically, if I may say so. Dust bunnies called for backup as I tore through my room on a mission. Cardio, no? I turned on the Wii and fired up My Fitness Trainer to put some time in with Maya. I almost threw a dumbbell at the screen as she nagged me about missing my sessions lately. Look, bitch, I've been checking in daily getting workout credit for what I've been doing at the gym. Just because I haven't wanted to workout with YOUR ass, does NOT a slacker make. I did a 30 minute workout with her that focused on flexibility. Now I'm all stretched out and ready for some limbo. Anyone?

Flight Risk

When someone is deemed a flight risk it means that there is a good chance they are going to run, at their first opportunity, from something they are being held accountable for. Right now, I am a flight risk. I've been trying to do the right thing for me over the last few weeks; to eat better and be better, but it has been a struggle. I am not in the "zone" that usually has me professing some renewed sense of determination. I am far from it. Every bit of it has been a struggle. Today? I didn't even want to get out of bed.

Today I wanted to sleep until things were resolved. If I just kept sleeping then I wouldn't be thinking, dwelling, worrying. I wanted to hide. Instead I got out of bed, even if late, and I slowly got dressed. I drove, almost dazed, to the gym. I sat in the parking lot once I got there, not wanting to go in. I eventually did, but everything was a challenge. I got in a very weak 30 minutes of cardio and then I left. I usually like it when I'm there and feel proud when I leave. I didn't this time.

I wanted to hit fast food on the way home, but got Subway instead. I didn't enjoy it. I've been sitting in my room since I got home with no motivation to do anything. I go between wanting to eat everything in the house and never wanting to eat again. I'm going to go have dinner of some sort and then probably go to bed. If I had a passport I'd suggest that someone take it. I should be remanded without bail.

Bedtime stories didn't used to be this scary

Last night before bed I spent about 15 minutes with Maya. Her version of bedtime stories involve squats and lunges, bicep curls and tricep presses, crunches and some odd little thing where I curl into a ball and roll back and forth. I'm supposed to bring my knees to my chest for this. I haven't brought my knees successfully to my chest since I was a fetus, I assure you. I think I prefer my bedtime stories have ghosts, dragons, gory details of dismemberment, and the like. They'd provide far less nightmare potential for me I think.

This morning I decided to see what she serves for breakfast. Planks. The bitch had me doing planks. I guess she IS a real trainer because they ALL make you do planks! Where's the originality in that I ask? As you're working out with Maya she occasionally asks you how that last little bit of torture treated you. You can choose from "No sweat," "I was working hard," and "I couldn't keep up." This allows her to decide how she wants to ream you the next time you hang out. She'll only dial it up a notch if you say no sweat, people. I'm just sayin'! She is kind enough to let you have a rest period between certain things. Just long enough for her to adjust her ponytail, her shoe, her spandex, whatever might be riding up into her nether regions. And before you start another part of the workout, she'll ask you to wait while she "finds the beat." My new BFF for sure!

After dinner I went for a walk. I needed to clear my head and see if it filled back up with clarity. It didn't. I've been so disconnected the last week. So indifferent to everything. I've been seeing someone lately and I've even pulled away from that (for various reasons I'll not get into). School starts tomorrow and I don't want to go. Since when haven't I been jacked up on school? Even when I was drowning in it I was still loving it. Right now, I'm not. Maybe I'm depressed. Maybe I'm just tired. My life is still all kerfucked and I'm getting quite fed up with it all.

Before I sat down to write this I popped in my new Jillian Michaels' Fitness Ultimatum 2009 game for the Wii. I did about 15 minutes with it. I'm not all that impressed with it yet, but maybe I'm not doing it right. Maya works me out much harder than Jillian so far. My Wii Balance Board can be used on that one, maybe that'll make the difference. Right now it's just a lot of running in place. The rowing and the monkey bars seems good, but F@#$ it all if I can figure out the grenade toss. I'll have to play with it some more and see what happens. As you work out you gain access to new training tips and things.

For those of you trying to tally my activity for today. I got in about an hour. Considering how sedentary I've been for the last, eesh, six months...this is huge. Tomorrow starts another 11ish weeks of hell. Let's see if I can't bring my A game this time, shall we?

Changing life's aperture setting

Last spring I took a digital photography class at school. I've always had a secret crush on photography, but never had a sassy enough camera to take a serious class. I never had a grasp on terms like shutter speed and aperture, but I thought we'd be best of friends if only we could become properly acquainted with one another. This class was amazing and so is my Nikon D60. I quickly discovered that when I found myself with camera in hand, nothing else mattered but capturing the perfect shot. Unemployment wasn't a concern. Weight wasn't a concern. Life wasn't a concern. My concern, in that brief shining moment, was quite simply...photography.

Among the many things I learned in that class, aperture was one of the most important. Aperture is the setting that controls the amount of light allowed in by adjusting the size of the hole it passes through. By adjusting this setting you can help control the depth of field. More plainly put, you can control which part of your photo is clear and which part is unclear. You can bring out of focus the less important aspects of your composition. If the elements right in front of you are what you feel the focus should be and the things in the distance are of lesser consequence, then you can adjust accordingly. There are other factors involved in achieving depth of field such as lighting and distance (and possibly alcohol), but aperture is as amazing as I'd always dreamed it would be (my professor would be so proud).

I've had far to wide a depth of field as of late. I was trying to focus on everything and lost site of what was important. I've been depressed and barely able to get out of bed in the morning. If not for the intense pressure of school, I'm not sure I ever would have. I created the illusion of happiness most of the time, at least for the people close to me, and it eventually got to be too much. Just when I was on the verge of breaking, there was a family dispute that pushed me soundly off the edge. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't control it. I couldn't snap out of it. I had a complete breakdown. I, quite frankly, was scared I wouldn't make it out safely. One day my mom even walked in during a right proper meltdown. I was sobbing uncontrollably and she just hugged me (we're not much of a hugging family what with being Dutch and all...er, the Dutch are habitually unaffectionate). I said things I shouldn't have. Not hateful, just things I know scared her. I said things I've never verbalized. I said things that I needed someone to know for fear I'd explode.

I'm better now. Though I was without it for a few weeks, I've managed to get more unemployment money thanks to the extensions signed by George W. (bout time you did something smart). I should have money coming in for quite a little while if all goes as they tell me it should. I'm still a video pimp on the weekends and I still hate it, but it's slightly less agonizing for the time being. This term is almost up at school and I'll have 3 weeks to recoup before the next battle begins. I'm still on the prowl for a job, but still hoping to find something that will work with my school schedule.

So now is the time to adjust my aperture setting. To find out what's most important to me and make that my focus. I think I need to focus on what's right in front of me and take things one day at a time. As of right now, my weight and my education are most important. I may not be able to be a fanatic about losing weight with the time constraints of school, but I certainly need to make the two mesh come January. Everything else will fall into place. So, what's your aperture setting? What are you focused on?