Day 155: I quit.

All or nothing head interloped into the spirit of this blog.

I began to despise the pressure I was putting on myself to take the time to post every day. I don't have endless hours a day to spend writing albeit something I love to do. Currently I have too many other projects, needs, priorities to attend to, that blogging unfortunately became "another one of those things" and it so happens one of those things that could be done away with at a less valuable expense. I quit.

I've missed being able to keep in touch by checking other's blogs. I've missed being able to vent. Missed were seeing my awesome, pat-myself-on-the-back accomplishments--my personal victories. I need those things, every one of them.

What killed it for me, pushing me over the edge, was going back about 4.5 weeks ago. I received an email from someone very close to me suggesting that despite all my efforts of various hard works, I was asked if I had given any more thought into pursuing surgical intervention to aid my weight loss--because they were "worried" about me, after numerous times I declined the invitation to have a conversation about the subject, and I thought made clear that that subject matter was not acceptable. I have been suggested to, rather told, all my life what I "should" do or what I must do, and I did not want that in my life anymore. Yet I was disrespected once again, and subsequently became disgusted with how I perceived people look at me.

I've never been much of an overconfident person. I'm shy by nature. I've battled low self-esteem. I feel judged because all my life I've been judged by my closest support people--i.e. my father. For the most part, I grew up learning that I was not good enough. I learned that I was a bad person for crying, that I had no truly good ideas, that I was worthless because I was never the best. Enter "all or nothing," guilt, doubt, and perfectionism to guide my coping mechanisms for the rest of my life. As the years have progressed, I now surrounding myself around real supportive people, and I've learned that these idea I had about myself were false. It doesn't negate the fact that the fabric of my being was sewn with these harsh threads. I'm very aware of how I feel society should be treated, not just myself. I'm on guard to make sure I never have to unjustly feel those ways again. So when someone threatens my safety, someone who I trust disrespects me and goes against my values, there are certain feelings that unfortunately will make a return.

I began thinking, heck, am I just fooling myself? Am I in this much denial? I started thinking that maybe everyone feels that way. Maybe I'm writing crap on here and I should go get a surgery I'm vehemently against because everyone sees it except for me. I thought, well who cares about this blog? How many people are reading and seeing that I'm a lost cause, that I'm worthless? Doubt doubt doubt doubt doubt.

I felt foolish to spill my insides. This wasn't helping anyone if what they all thought was that I should stop and get surgery. I was defeated. I was spending hours crossing all my T's and doting all my I's just to be laughed at. I quit.

(I do know not everyone feels this way and I'm confident it was ONLY that person who felt that way, so thank you to my supporters. I don't mean to suggest ANY of you are a problem, quite opposite, you are my esteem builders and I'm so grateful to you.)

At the time I was also grieving the loss of my baby who I miscarried one year ago. It was the anniversary. I wasn't in a place to get out of bed, much less blog about weight loss to futile means. I quit.

One of my best friends lost a close family member suddenly, unexpectedly. I was hurting for them. On top of my own stresses, I was stressed for them. I quit.

Then there's the list of everything else filling the glass: fixing up and cleaning out our house to put on the market in time to take possession of a new house (and new mortgage), finishing my Bachelor's degree and taking those courses online (with no time management skills to speak of), pressure to make a baby that I am hopeless about being able to carry (from history of miscarriage and now 13 months of infertility), finishing up the paperwork for immigration (I don't know where to start), and keeping a calm house with dinner on the table and poop off the dog. Too much to do. I quit.

These stresses landed me a quick visit to the ER last night. I was having bad chest pains, shortness of breath, dizziness, felt like there was a lump in my throat, and I had a racing pulse. Given my weight, my "high normal" blood pressure, and the fact that Dad passed away from a heart attack scared me into a panic so badly that I was having Andrew nearly run the stop lights. I had an EKG and chest x-ray and this is what they found: nothing abnormal.

I am and have always been "healthy on paper." I've had anemia before but not always, my high normal BP is still "normal", and some unexplained infertility which is probably related to a lot of stress, but healthy otherwise--you know, no diabetes, cholesterol is within normal limits, healthy heart and lungs, and other organs, no diseases. But orphaned by my parents who both died of lifestyle diseases has scared me into thinking the worst for myself because of my weight. The doc reassured me though, given my stress tests of being on the treadmill 3-4 times a week at 50-60 minutes and not having any problems again reassured the doc that my cardiac fitness was good.

From my understanding I was having an anxiety attack--something I've never experienced before. Thank goodness I had those reassuring tests. Thank goodness I had the brain to be safe and get it checked out, but better that it was nothing bad. What this has made me think of, however, is that I should probably order these orchids a little better and learn how to manage my life without all of this stress.

So my new plan is to try to give myself a schedule and task out what needs to get done and just start doing it. Perfectionism tells me that if I start and even have the possibility of failing, it's not worth it. Then nothing gets done, the monkey on the back starts screaming, and here I am in the ER again scared I'm dying of a heart attack. NOT GOOD. I want to write. I will continue to write. But I will write when it suites me and doesn't interfere with a good night's sleep or time to spend with my husband as that time is so precious lately. I can't feel badly for changing my template in the middle of this however much it irks me to the bone. I have to be flexible. I promise myself not to just stop writing, but it won't be everyday, and I'll still succeed. This topic of balance keeps coming up and it's what's going to make me the happiest person I can be. So to stress and worrying about what people think, and feeling I have to do it all, I quit.

Interesting side note, I have been teetering between 329-333 pounds for the last 3.5 weeks. There have been lots of fast food because I've been too depressed to cook, and lots of no exercising because I've been too depressed to get out of bed. I just needed time to deal with these emotions I was feeling and I'm okay now. I should give massive props to my wonderful husband who's had to go through this with me, as he's been the best support I've ever had. I'm so blessed.

I'll take proper measurements on Monday...keeping all the orchids in order and such.