Weight Loss Comments

Weight loss.

A daunting battle since I was in junior high.

It seems those fifty pounds I gained in three years are hanging on.

Only now it's eighty pounds.

Daunting.

It's depressing.  I've lost twenty-six pounds which is fine.

It's good.  It's okay.  It's frustrating.  I ought to be happy.

One time I lost sixty pounds in six months.

I was in my late twenties.

Emotionless.

Right now my appetite is way down.

At the hospital they have you eat three meals a day plus snacks.

I thought I was going to burst.

I gained eight pounds.

Boundaries.

I cannot watch the skinny commercials.

"Take this pill, use this machine, take a yoga class."

None of those work for me.

I like to eat very little but what I eat isn't always the best choice.

Puzzled.

Some protein drink.

Some water, tea or sugar free lemonade.

Some fruit smoothie.

Some ice cream

Truth.

Prayer about it is always good.

Now that I'm in a small group I have hope that I will make friends.

Going to AA meetings is helping.

Talking to my friends and family is new and good.

Hope.

Who To Tell Your Diagnosis To

When I started my GoFundMe campaign, I believed telling the truth was the best decision.  After all, as a follower of Jesus Christ, I am encouraged to be a truth teller so long as I do it respectfully and in His love.  I believed in my heart that saying I had mental illness and more specifically bipolar depression would serve as a reason why I was on disability.  I felt I needed to explain myself so that it didn't look like I was financially irresponsible or mooching off of my friends or the public.

The first couple of days went okay.  I told a little bit of my story and then something happened.  I had a day when the bipolar depression hit my psyche.  I thought, "Wow!  I could record this video so people can see what bipolar depression looks like for me."  I pressed the record button and this is what I said:

I thought it was really good because:

1. I stayed focused on the lens
2. I did not garble my words
3. My message was clear and concise

But that's not what a member of my family and a close friend said.  They didn't like it, each for their own reasons which they freely told me.

I felt hurt.  I felt judged.  I felt embarrassed for having recorded and posted it.  I felt ashamed of having bipolar.  I was encouraged to remove it.   I did and I never should have.

I was asked why I posted that video.  It was to educate people about bipolar depression.  Neither of these people who shared their opinion have ever seen me this way.  No one has.  I stay inside my house on days like this, lay on the couch and wait for it to pass.  It lasts for days at a time so I'm safest by myself.  I don't want people to see me but then again, I have nothing to be ashamed of.

It's my choice who I tell, why I tell and how I tell.  But I have to be wise in each of those.  I tell those who are closest to me.  I tell them because they love me and want to help.  How I tell them is gently as I'm shaking a bit with anxiety.

Maybe taking the video off the GoFundMe page was a good idea.  All I know is that taking it down was taking down a part of me.  

I guess, in some circumstances, keeping my diagnosis a secret is a good thing.

The Water Color Painting and The Tree

I was trying to paint the sunset at a forest preserve that I've grown very fond of.  It's where I go to meet with God, walk with a friend, cast a fishing line or sit on a picnic table on a sunny fall day listening to the wind and watching the boats going by.

What came out was a bright sky, a circle for the river and walkway and a tree.  But not just any tree.

The trees at the forest preserve which is what my painting represents (my safe place) are hundreds of years old.  Their trunks are so thick it would take multiple people to wrap your arms around them.  They have branches that reach out on each side for several feet and then they reach up toward the sky, so high, you have to shield your eyes from the sun.  They are magnificent creations that only the God who formed our earth and formed us could have created and preserved.

My tree has a thick trunk, too.  The branches have a wispy feel to them - not rugged or stiff.  As I was putting branches onto the main limbs, I dropped my paint brush.  I was disappointed because the smudge messed up my picture but then I took a closer look:

Do you see her?  It looks like a little girl with angel wings, kneeling and praying.  She is supported by what I believe is God's hand.  If you look to her left, that's an upside down picture of Peter Pan extending his hand to an angel who is extending her hand.

A little girl praying to her God.  A little boy who never grew up.  And an angel taking that little boy's hand as he flies to his next adventure.  But the little girl - she looks alone but she isn't.  When I turned the painting around in a circle, I saw many images of other people in those branches.  She wasn't alone after all.

When I shared this at group, the therapist asked me, "Amy, what is missing from your tree?"  I starred at it for awhile and said, "Roots."  I had no roots holding me up.  In the past I had deep roots but lately my roots have been brought up in controversy, negated and not approved of.  I realized I was letting others who knew nothing about me steal my roots, one by one.  I had better get them back quickly before I topple over and can't get up.

My roots are Jesus Christ and going to church, my family, my closest friends, my lovely therapist, my smiling psychiatrist, my thorough primary doctor, my AA meetings, taking time out for myself and trying to eat well.

Do you have roots?
Maybe this exercise would be good for you to do as a reminder of your strength and steadiness each time you lean on them.
That's one of my new plans.