Depression is a terrible drug.

Some of you might not be aware, but I’m finally moving on Saturday.

I’d be happy about that if my head would let me.

I hate shock. Shock to your emotions tends to shut you down. You don’t realize that you are just floating by until you crash from that shock. And then you are embarrassed.

I am scared of what I have done to my body these past few weeks. We haven’t been able to eat at home because cooking in a place where you feel like you don’t belong makes you not want to eat what you cooked. It’s hostile. We buy premade food at the grocery store next door if we’re hungry and eat in our bed. I feel gross doing it. I am pretty sure I have been overeating, but I haven’t been gaining enough to warrant that feeling. Maybe I’m not even eating enough on most days, then binging on bad days? That actually sounds more like me.

I apparently eat a lot of carbs when I’m stressed. They truly are comforting. We’ve had a soda or 2 every day for almost 3 weeks. So god damn bad. I am so stressed that I can’t remember most of what I say, type, learn, talk about to other people, or even what I am thinking. And I cannot convince myself that once I move everything will be better. It’s been so long since I have had to hold up a mask for as long as I have to make sure that everyone else is okay with being around me. I am not fun to be around when I’m depressed. Ask my husband. Ask my mother. Three weeks is a long time to be fake to everyone you see so that they all believe you are okay and still remain sane after years of being comfortable with being yourself.

I don’t like people. This is nothing new. It’s been a few years since I have allowed myself to make friends. Especially over the course of this past year, I refused to let many get close to me. I still kind of do. There are two guys in my training class that I absolutely adore; Chris has some teammates that are freaking awesome (one of which being the first person from work that I added on FB). This happening to us and me still having to go to work with a smile on my face put me under even more stress. At least the anxiety went mostly away. My brain tells me that I have to look mostly happy to these people.  They know what’s going on, but they don’t know what I am doing to myself.

My headaches these past two days seem to be mostly related to stress. I cried a bit and feel a little better. Apparently crying releases the chemical that makes you stressed, and that’s why you feel better after you cry. Maybe the symptom of that chemical build up is a stupidly heavy pressure headache?

All I know is that I want to just sleep forever. Next week I should be able to get back in the swing of tracking, cooking my own food, and exercising properly. I won’t be walking a mile uphill every morning anymore, and I will be able to sleep properly (and my schedule won’t be wake up at god awful early in the fucking morning). Everything, theoretically, should be better.

Now, if only I could tell my brain that it will be. :(


The day that was entirely too emotional…


The day I hit my fucking 10% lost goal.


Yeah. You read that right. I lost 5.8 lbs this week. I don’t know how I did it. I am fairly convinced that stress is the main cause for it all. But I am officially 240 pounds AND ALMOST UNDER IT.

This morning, before I weighed myself, after I woke up severely hungover (or still fucking drunk, I’m not sure), I saw a post from my husband on Google+. Our baby, our kitten, had not been adopted yet. Kudos to whoever wrote the description for him on the Oregon Humane Society page, though. Warcraft fan, ftw! *fistbump* I bawled. For a while. As much as I miss him, him not being adjusted to shelter life and having troubles getting adopted is fucking heartbreaking. And I’m so conflicted because if he doesn’t get adopted, we might be able to adopt him again!

So, that’s what caused a large amount of emotion this morning.

Then I lost a lot of weight. I didn’t do much this week other than go hiking up a hill for only 50 minutes. I am not sure if it’s the stress, my hormones balancing, or my body just getting used to the weight loss. I lost ten fucking percent of my starting weight. If you want to get really technical, since I came to Oregon last May, I have lost forty fucking pounds. Seriously. FORTY.

I am in a bit of shock. I didn’t expect weight loss this week. I’ve been going over  my calories, and not really exercising. I am losing as much weight as some people do on The Biggest Loser, but with doing hardly anything… It’s so conflicting. I am sitting here telling myself that it can’t be proper weight loss. The scale is wrong (it is, but we know by how much). It’s muscle loss. Everything I can to tell myself that there is no way this is proper weight loss.

That’s how fucked I am in the head.

So, emotional day today.

We looked at my ID last night, with my picture that was taken in July. Uh. I was fat. My face was very, very fluffy. Look at that! That was me back in July.

I mean, I’m still fat, but just not as much. I mean, this is me a few weeks ago. I’m probably even skinnier now, but I haven’t taken a good shot of myself in a while. That difference, though.

You really don’t notice this shit when it’s happening to you. :3

Here’s to another 30 lbs lost, hopefully another 40 shortly, and then I will be under 200 lbs for the first time in my adult life.

8 months, really?

I didn’t realize I had neglected this for so long.


Update! For those that don’t know (who the hell follows this anyway…), I moved to Portland in May. I got a job here in June. I have a weird thing going on with my hip that prevents me from sitting for so long. The job I had was sitting. Had to quit said job.

We’re doing better. We don’t eat out as often. We don’t eat a TON of junk food. We’re making healthier decisions. I’ve actually lost weight. Not much, only enough to tell I have, but I have lost weight. I’m at 268 right now, and have been steady at that for a while. I am now tracking my calories (which is a REAL eye opener, holy shit). I’m not supposed to be eating more than 1660 calories a day, which is actually easier than I thought. I mostly quit soda again. I’m drinking around 128 oz of water a day. There’s a cinder cone near us. It’s 630 ft high. We can climb from the base to the top in less than 45 minutes, and that’s including one 15 minute break. Changes are really happening.

Tomorrow, I start running. I’m going to be doing Couchto5k. My goal is to be able run a 5k next year. I am excited about this. I have support. I have seen the weight loss and I want more. I am now starting to be able to fit into my 2X shirts. I can FIT into 1X or XL female shirts, but just barely. I want to finally be able to wear my smaller shirts that I won. I want to go down in pants sizes. This will happen.

I have enough will now to start doing all these things by myself. And I think that’s what I’m most proud of. I will try to update a little more on here so that I can keep track of it.

And I want to thank those that are supportive of me. I’m tired of being the old lady with all the aches. It’s not fun. I need to be healthy. Not only to have kids, but to continue living for those kids. :)