I’ve started a new “diet” this week. I hate calling it a diet, because I associate that word with depriving yourself of the things you love. Instead, I’m adding something I love to my routine and cutting back on junk.
We recently got a blender for the apartment, and I thought to myself, “You idiot, you love smoothies! Make some damn healthy smoothies & stop eating junk for lunch every day.”
So far, so good. Every day that I’ve made a smoothie for work, I’ve been able to resist the temptation of snacks & baked goods in the break room & just drink my fruits & veggies. And they’re good. I mean they’re not only good for me, but they taste delicious. Pretty easy to make, too. A splash of milk, handful of some kind of veggie, handful or 2 of some fruit, a tablespoon (roughly) of peanut butter–for protein–and a small cup of yogurt to top it off. All things I like, but I have trouble forcing myself to eat fruits & veggies by themselves. This is a way to get myself to eat healthier & enjoy it.
I still eat junk from time to time. An ice cream sandwich here or there if we have them in the apartment. A frozen pizza for dinner if the hubby’s not cooking anything (I know, I know, I could have another smoothie instead, but I’m still not sure how long I can go between meals when I have a smoothie. It seems to work between lunch & dinner, but I don’t know if it would get me through the night.)
What sparked this diet change? I am sick and tired of being fat and gross. I know it’s adversely affecting my health–even though I can’t necessarily feel it–but it’s mostly the shame of seeing myself in the mirror when I’m getting ready for the day. I need to lose my flabby belly. Yes, I know, I need to exercise as well…but baby steps, man, baby steps. I am a creature of habit, so I need to make small changes to my routine until they’re ingrained. Then they’ll be easier to keep up with.
I’m hoping to be at least 20 pounds lighter by Comicon. It’s a lofty goal, but I have three months and a lot of determination. And a blender.
My new manuscript has been stalled for pretty much a solid month or more, and I didn’t really know where to start–or rather, restart. The first few chapters were paced wrong, and there was a character in there that really wasn’t integral to the story. He was just kind of shoved in there.
So, how do I start over? Do I keep what I have and revise the hell out of it? Do I start from scratch? What do I do? So I spent a month weighing my options and trying to make up my damn mind.
Today, I was finally able to restart the manuscript from the beginning, and I think it’s turning out pretty well. The odd thing? I was only able to start writing again after being incredibly sick for nearly a week. Is it my muse returning … or is it the promethazine-codeine cough syrup? I may never know…
Regardless of where the surge in creativity is coming from today, I’m taking full advantage. Are these three chapters any better than the three previously-written ones? Not necessarily, but it’s a better start. I have a better place to build from. My word count sucks for these chapters compared to the other ones, but I think the story is stronger and I can make it into something more with revisions later down the road. This particular rocky start is a better rocky start than the rocky start I started with. Or something.
Will this mean that I’ll have my first draft by the end of the year as I had hoped? Maybe, maybe not. But it does mean that I have momentum again, and momentum is much needed right now.
Maybe this illness has been a blessing in disguise, a sign to myself to take stock of what’s going on in my life and take a step back. I’ve been stretching myself a bit thin, not having any days where I’m not doing anything, and this small break, doctor-advised though it may be, has shown me that if I can relax I can accomplish more. Yesterday I did almost nothing work-related (with the exception of inking one drawing and scanning in the others for a commission I’ve been a part of), and it felt great. No writing. No cosplay. No sculpting. Just catching up on living life–although I was living part of it in the doctor’s waiting room.
And now, back to codeine-induced inspiration!
Here it is again. Another nasty cold. Happy Valentine’s day to me.
I am grateful that I have a caring husband who makes sure I get enough rest, but it really kills the Valentine’s mood.
I feel like Typhoid Mary. I probably spread this virus throughout half of Tucson yesterday despite my efforts to cover my cough and use cough drops to try to prevent said cough. Note that I said “try.”
It’s not really all that bad, I guess. I’m functional. I can make it through the day. I’m not literally dying. There are people worse off than I. But I can still bitch and moan on occasion, right?
I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. I had gone so long without any real illness (besides the RA), and now three bugs in less than two months. This one isn’t as bad as what I had over Christmas weekend–Good Goddess, that was horrible–but it still sucks.
Time to take better care of myself. I’m planning on starting either a smoothie or juicing diet of sorts to get more nutrients. I really don’t eat very healthy, so maybe some fruits and veggies will help build the old immune system.
For now, though, time for a restful nap between laundry loads.
I don’t know how people do it. They set a goal to lose weight, they work hard, and they do it. They lose the weight.
I’m not that type of person. I can try to my little heart’s content, but I just fail miserably every time. I can’t stick to anything I set my mind to, diet- and exercise-wise. I was doing semi-okay a few months ago, going to the small gym at the apartment complex a few mornings a week to work on the exercise bike, but then I started being extra sleepy in the mornings and didn’t have the energy to walk over there. Also, it’s cold as hell out there in the mornings now.
Holidays never help with weight loss. Food everywhere. And the people with the willpower all say, “Oh, I can’t eat that, I’ll get fat.” And of course I think, “Well, I’m fat already and it’s just going to go to waste, so why not? What’s the point, anyway?” Kind of a defeatist attitude, but there ya go. That’s my “dieting” life.
Once the weather warms up a bit (thank you, Arizona, for warming up fast) I’m going to try to get back into some sort of exercise routine. Walks in the mornings (if it’s light enough out) or the apartment gym. I’m going to try to cut back on my snacking and my portions. Find something to occupy myself when I have a craving or get bored, rather than head to the kitchen.
I’m going to try. I can’t guarantee my success, but I’m going to try. I hate seeing my arms wiggle as I write on the charts at work. Makes me wish I didn’t have good peripheral vision. I also hate seeing myself in the mirror. Wider and wider. It’s disheartening and deflating.
I’m going to try.
I’m going to do it.
It might take a while, but I’m going to do it.
It’s been a few days since I’ve posted, I know, but I was kinda half dead. Okay, a little dead. Dead enough that I didn’t want to write or do much of anything.
Though it was only a cold, I’m sure y’all know how much that can take out of you. The constant coughing. The wheezing. The shortness of breath. The sinus congestion. The fever. The body aches. It sucks, and it isn’t very conducive to productivity.
Thankfully, though, I’m starting to feel better. I still have a little ghost of a cough, but hopefully tomorrow I’ll be right as rain. That’s a funny saying. What’s so right about rain? Shouldn’t it be right as sunshine? But I digress.
A lot of projects have been backing up. The art commission project. The cosplay work. The beta read. The writing. I’m barely keeping up with the Talk Nerdy With Us work that’s been assigned to me. I’ve been able to work at my day job, but only while heavily medicated. (Not too heavily medicated. The max that I can take legally to function in the workplace.)
I’m trying to psych myself up for getting back into the swing of things. I need to get back into that art project. Like kick-my-own-ass get back into it.
Back from the dead. Time to get to work.
I hate mental illness sometimes.
It just fucks everything up. I’m fine one minute, then sad the next. For no fucking reason. And it sucks.
There’s nothing that happened today to make me down, but since I’ve gotten home from work it’s started.
I feel hopeless. I feel like it’s never going to end–never mind that I don’t know what “it” is or why I want “it” to end. Don’t start freaking out though; I know that “it” isn’t life. I want life to keep going on. I don’t want that to end. Just…something.
It’s the usual depression symptoms. Loss of interest in the things I like to do. Withdrawal into myself. General malaise. It’s actually quite boring. I’m bored with depression. Go figure.
I’m just over it. Sick and tired of it. I need to kick my own ass into gear. Bust my chops. Smack myself upside the head and tell myself to quit whining and do something.
If only I could find the energy to do all that.
Sleep. I haven’t been used to getting much of it the past, well, 10 months or more.
I had insomnia when we got our cat, Rory, and he decided that I needed to be up at ridiculous hours every day (because that’s when I was getting up when we adopted him). So I woke every day between 1 a.m. and 3 a.m. with a cat kneading my throat, or licking my face, or just plain sitting on me. It became a part of my daily routine.
I got a lot of writing done in that time. And sewing, drawing, etc. The wee hours became the me hours.
Lately, however, Rory has been waking me up later and later. This morning, I got to sleep in until after 5 a.m.! It was amazing. I had forgotten what I was missing in the past year.
The downside to this development is I will have less time for creative endeavors. I’ll have to find a better time to write/draw/paint/sew/etc. now that Rory has deemed it okay for me to sleep.
Oddly enough, I find myself wondering what to do with myself in the mornings now that I don’t have hours upon hours of free time. I can’t very well start an extensive project when there’s only an hour before I have to get ready for work.
I guess decent sleep is a double-edged sword. Without it, I have time to get things done that otherwise might not get done. With it, I’m left wondering what to do with myself.
Because I have gone without
Okay, so my pace was not the fastest…still, I managed to get in half an hour on the exercise bike in my apartment complex’s “gym.” I took a friend’s advice (she’s majoring in kinesiology–I think that’s the word–so she knows much more than I do about proper exercise) & set the resistance to kinda medium. It felt good to get that workout in, even though it wasn’t much.
I had been considering going on pre-dawn walks in the neighborhood, but my husband was concerned for my safety so he got a key to the gym from the apartment management. I guess they don’t give keys out to all the residents because they had problems with people stealing stuff, but he paid the refundable deposit & got me the key so I can go work out in relative safety. Just a short walk to the exercise room, and the door locks behind me.
This, I hope, was just the first of many days exercising in the mornings. I want to make this a daily thing. I can’t keep being unhealthy. I already eat things that are horrible for my body (is it my fault that patients and coworkers keep bringing cookies, brownies, and doughnuts to the office?), but I’m trying to change that. It’s slow going, because I don’t have the best impulse control when it comes to food. I’m a picky eater, but the things I pick are loaded with sugar and/or carbs.
I’ll lose this extra weight some day. It may be slow going, but at least I’m going.
I give up.
Seriously. I can’t catch a break.
It has been months since I had a decent night’s sleep. Literally. Months. I hadn’t thought it was that bad, but then I realized that I’ve lowered my standard for a “decent” night’s sleep so far below any known bar that I was fooling myself on mornings when I thought I felt refreshed.
Last night was the last straw. I have to figure out what’s causing this (not counting Rory–I can’t blame the cat for all of it) and how to get it to stop. I just can’t tolerate the level of exhaustion that has built with all of this insomnia. I can’t focus on the things I need to do.
I can’t even concentrate on this post.
My latest drawing effort is shit. I have a nicely-drawn head that’s too big for the okayish body. I should be better than this.
Writing is just plain out. All I do is stare at the screen, which accomplishes nothing.
Guess I’m taking a nap right now.