Fab New Diet

I've got it. The next diet craze. I will make millions. I'm going to call it... "Get a severe illness."

It's going to be huge. Hop on board now, before everyone figures it out. My book will be sold out and no one will be able to get a copy.

Okay, obviously I'm kidding, but it was pretty much the only silver lining to three of my four days off this past holiday weekend. Thanksgiving itself was lovely, but Friday? Friday was probably the worst day of my life. I developed Toxic Shock Syndrome, though, of course, at the time I didn't know what it was. First I thought it was my muscle relaxant (soma). Then I thought it was the flu. No such luck. I'll spare you the gruesome details, but essentially I found out it was TSS on Saturday night. Had I known on Friday what I figured out on Saturday, I would have been in ICU. Because that's where they put people with TSS. It's fatal in over half of all cases due to major organ failure.

I managed to fight off the worst of it on my own by forcing fluids whether I couldn't keep them down or not, sleeping, and staying bundled up to stoke the fires of my fever. Later I got antibiotics to kick the rest of it. What is even better than the fact that I am now probably one of the only people to actually lose weight this weekend, is that I gained a new and amazing appreciation for my body. I may fight with it over pecan pie and perfectly roasted turkey, but it's got my back in a serious fight.

And for that, my body is beautiful to me.

Perfect Timing

So I tore a ligament in my neck. While it would never be considered a "good" time to tear a ligament, it's especially difficult now. I have a veritable pharmacy at my disposal to manage the pain, the spasms, and the inflammation, but none of these medications gets along well with alcohol. So I have to either not drink or drink too much (in order to drown out the pain.) Moderation is not an option. Great. Just when I'm trying to re-learn how to do just about everything in moderation (except smoking- no such thing.)

Another side effect? Hunger. Yeah, like I needed more of that. If I don't eat, the pills make me sick and I end up throwing up whatever I last put into my mouth. Not fun, especially considering the fact that throwing up is how I tore my ligament in the first place. I've upchucked more times in the past two weeks than in the past two years. And it's excruciatingly painful to toss your cookies with a torn neck ligament. I end up crying into my toilet.

I swear this is some cosmic joke. It has to be, right? I can't win. I keep hoping I'll wake up and it's been one of those disturbingly real dreams that I thank the heavens is over.

I'll keep you posted on how that goes.

Warrior Pose

When kicking any bad habit, we're taught that we need to know what our "triggers" are. What situations, people, feelings, etc. set off the urge to commit said bad habit. For me, the urge to smoke, at this point in my quit, pretty much only comes when I'm either depressed or stressed. The urge to overeat comes mostly at the same times. Drinking? Same.

I continually find myself in these situations lately. It's like I'm being tested. Work is the worst it has ever been, I'm in a new home, I seem to be going through one of those "pruning" phases with my friends (e.g. I seem to be losing a lot of people I once considered really important), and I'm so broke that I'm just waiting for actual moths to fly out of my pockets- a la vintage cartoons.

I need to find a new way to cope with stress and depression (because that's another "gift" this whole process seems to have given me.) There are volumes written on how to replace the bad habits with healthy new ones and endless lists of suggestions. I don't like them. I feel like a stubborn toddler, but I don't want to do those things. I don't want to meditate. No thanks. Puzzles? I mean, puzzles are fun and all, but I don't have to actively smoke, eat, or drink. Half the fun of those things is that they can be done while doing something else at the same time. I can't really carry on a conversation with my husband while trying to remember that river in China for 24-down. Crafting? MMMmmeeehhhh. I'm more of an active artist than a crafter. If I want to create something, it's usually something very involved. This is a possibility, though. Maybe I'll put that one back on the table.

Take a bath. Right. In the middle of an argument with the HOA, I'm going to hop into the tub. Not really practical in 90% of stressful situations.

Take a walk. See above. While helpful in a few instances, it's not possible in the majority. I'd be walking non-stop. This is just a stab in the dark, but I'm pretty sure my bosses wouldn't appreciate me walking around the building instead of working.

And my favorite of all... stretch. Wait, what? Really? My boss comes in to yell at me. I start getting both depressed and stressed at the same time. I can feel the pressure and soreness in my throat that signals tears are on their way. I take a big swallow. Push it down. Stand up and... touch my toes. Nice. That's good. Oh, sir- go ahead, I'm listening. Just gotta stretch out the old hammies. Aaaahhhhh. Yeah. Ooh! Went a little far there. How about the quads! Sounds nice. Reach behind me and grab my foot, push it into my glut muscle. Wait a minute, this would work WAY better if I took off these bothersome high heels. Okay, keep going. You think my productivity sucks, huh? Oh, sir- you really should get in on this. This is.... fabulous. Okay, well, I'm sorry to hear that my employment is hanging by a thread. That really stinks. Maybe we should stretch out our calves! That's sounds great! Are you sure, sir? You look a little tense. Oh. Okay. See you later!

Come on. Really? Stretching? Who writes these lists?

Waging War

I've managed, somehow, to end up back in a state of depression. I can deal with depression. I've dealt with actual, clinical depression before, so this is really not that bad in comparison. What I'm finding hard to deal with is the fact that I'm going through this at all. I'm over a month quit. I've come to terms with losing "a friend" and having to fill my time. I still haven't been able to brave the sinister, growling porch in order to read, but I'm doing fine with everything else. So why is this happening now?

I know a lot of it has to do with what seems to be mild body dysmorphia and depersonalization. I literally feel as if I'm battling with my own body. I've started thinking of it as "other". I'm not entirely sure when this started happening, actually. I just realized a couple of days ago that I constantly talk and write about myself as if I'm two separate things- my mind and my body. I feel like I have no control over my body. I hate it, but not in the way a teenager hates their body- where one is merely uncomfortable in their own skin and wishes they could be different. No. I actually, literally hate my body- I think of it as an entity separate from myself. This entity has betrayed me. It doesn't care what I want or what I think or what is good for me (or it, for that matter.) It seems only to want to piss me off. When I want to exercise, I suddenly have joint pain. When I want to sleep in, I'm wide awake. When I want to wake up early, I sleep past my alarm. When I want to go to bed early, I can't fall to sleep. When I want to stay up late, I fall to sleep on the couch. When I want to curb my appetite and eat only a little, I'm suddenly voracious. When I've given myself the go-ahead to splurge a little, I'm not hungry.

I. Can't. Win.

I feel like I'm in a fierce battle, and I'm starting to feel the effects. What terrifies me, and what I think is causing the depression, is that this is going to break me. I am so scared that I will keep fighting and fighting and fighting and then realize, at some point, that I can't do this. I'm still determined right now, but my resolve is diminishing. I can feel it.

I hope and pray that my body realizes it's being an a**hole soon and begs for my forgiveness. Otherwise, I fear I may be the one on my knees... broken. Ashamed. And no longer a non-smoker.

Passing one month...

The cravings have, for the most part, stopped. When they do show up, they're far more docile beasts that are easily vanquished. However, I'm now living with this huge, voracious monster. It follows me around religiously and I can almost always smell it's fetid breath and hear it's labored movements. It's become massive and terrifying. It's my appetite.

I've started exercising pretty regularly again. At least four times per week for at least half an hour. I'm proud of that. But it's not helping my appetite. At first I started losing the weight I've gained since quitting smoking, and I was jubilant. Then the appetite began to grow in relation to the exercise so that I'm back where I started again.

Stress doesn't help. It seems like every time I try to take on a life challenge, like quitting or dieting, that's when life becomes the most difficult and challenging all on its own. I've GOT to figure out something that works for me to reduce stress and relax that doesn't involve my big fat mouth.

Ferme ma bouche.

No alcohol. No smoking. No food. Not even healthy food. This has become a problem all on its own. I have got to change the way I think about food. Not just replace my oral fixation with healthy snacking. It's the oral fixation that has got to go. I'm even seriously considering further emptying my already meager pockets on a cognitive psychologist. I fear it may take some professional help to re-structure my thinking process.

But for now, I'm going to try to do it on my own. I'm going to stop snacking altogether. I don't want to be chained to this addictive oral thing forever. Even though healthy snacks won't bust my waistline, they're not going to help me get over the root of the entire problem: my mouth.

I have officially declared war on my mouth and it's irrational desires. I'm going to try starving it. Unless I need to eat or drink for sustenance, it's not getting fed- at all.

Hopefully the monster will shrink in time and stop harassing me. It's really quite unattractive.