FatGirl vs World

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

In 2002, I moved off campus to an apartment building in Virginia.  Along with the 1.25 hr commute by bus/rail each way, the roommate situation didn't go smoothly as I had hoped or planned.   You'd think in that situation, the solution was pretty clear:  move closer to work and ditch the roommates.  Easier said than done for me.  It took a year of seeing a therapist to get my anxiety issues out in the open.  Not only did I have an anxiety-triggered OCD-like behavior, but I had anxiety about life, namely "what if I make the wrong decision...will I land on my feet?" 

Raise your hand if you've ever thought of this....

I was able to move out on my own after a year of asking that question over and over again and realizing that no decision was set in stone and that I could thrive or recover from any decision.  I'm guessing even if you're not nodding your head that you've felt that doubt, there's a little part of you that has always wondered "What if I can't?" How many of you wonder something different -- "what if I can and do?" What if I make a decision that can't be undone?

When I first hurt my back (yeppers, this is another spine post!) I (along with everyone who knew what I was going through) was all gung-ho about using every bit of science and technology to fix me up, that is, until I started educating myself about the science and technology.   People would say "Why don't you just have surgery" as if it was similar to fixing a broken bone or having a mole removed.  The short of the long of it is that our bodies are built to perfection (minus our appendix and tonsils).  We're highly evolved machines, and science spends its time trying to figure out ways to come close to what evolution took thousands of years to do.  In other words, even if I were to have spine surgery (fusion, disc replacement, discectomy) my spine and discs will never be as strong as they once were.  It would also require extensive rehabilitation.

Even worse, there's something called Failed Back Surgery Syndrome.  I've seen quotes anywhere from 20-60% (depending on the type of surgery) of back surgeries "fail" to alleviate pain.  I have two coworkers that have had spine surgeries only to end up in more pain than they were before the surgeries.  One coworker walks around hunched over and contorted to the side, the other walks with the assistance of a cane and he's not that much older than I am.  Coupled with my doctor telling me to "use it til you lose it" -- I'm don't know what to do and I'm scared.  And it's not the stupid anxiety of not knowing whether I can handle living alone, it's something that's logical to be afraid of.

Yep, you heard it right.  The great FGvW is scared.  Why?  If I'm in this much pain, and my life is limited this much -- what will my life look like in the months before I "lose it"? Will I be one of the lucky people who has a successful spinal surgery?  Then another part of me wonders if I'm being stubborn by trying to avoid surgery in the first place (especially with all the videos on youtube of people who have had success and resumed their lives).

I wish I had a crystal ball that would show me my outcomes--something better than statistical guesses.
Unlike the speaker in the poem above, I haven't decided on a path to take.  I'm stuck at the fork.

How do you make a decision when everyone tells you the outcomes are a crapshoot?

Dictionaries define "liberator" as "someone who releases people from captivity or bondage."
In my case it was "a product that allows someone with severe back pain to get some sleep."  But it lived up to its name, as it released me from the captivity of my injury.

After my back crapped out on me in 2007, I began to experience a great deal of anxiety and stress over the simple act of sleeping.  Lying down hurt.  I could find a comfortable position, but ultimately it would become uncomfortable and I'd wake up.  Body pillows/bolsters would move around or I'd kick them off the bed.  I'd try to flip/turn and end up the kind of excruciating pain that either wakes you up, keeps you awake, or prevents you from sleeping.  If I managed to sleep for a few hours, there would always be the fear of waking up in pain/soreness because of the way I slept.

While sidelined from work and watching a lot of TV, I got an idea while watching Meet the Fockers, specifically, the scene where Barbara Streisand is teaching a sex class to senior citizens.  Could the (*LINK NSFW!*) Liberator Shapes (*LINK NSFW*)  help me get some sleep?

The answer was an emphatic yes.  A glorious, haven't-slept-well-in-three-months yes.  At first I balked at the price (mine was $160), but I asked myself a simple question:  was my sanity worth that amount?  Ummm.... yeah.  I needed sleep.  I called the company and got a little more information on the difference between the ramp and the wedge, and the customer service agent and I decided that the ramp would serve more therapeutic purposes.

The morning after my first night with the Ramp proved that I made the right decision.  The Ramp's sturdy foam and microfiber cover (that gripped the sheets) wasn't gonna let me push it around like some ordinary pillow.  Propping my legs up like I am on the photo on the right made it so my lower back was flat against my bed and in contact with the ice or heating pad (instead of the lower back's natural curve away from the bed).  It also increased the intradisc space in my lower back, alleviating the nerves that were inflamed and being pinched.  Sweet relief was mine!  I also used it to do a modified child's pose to help stretch my spine.

While going through my most recent round of neck issues, I found myself using the Liberator Ramp again.  When trying to ice my neck, ice would sink into the pillow away from me.  With the ramp, I was able to keep the ice where it needed to be -- in contact with my neck.  It also provided a more comfortable position for me to read or watch TV.

The Ramp lives in plain sight.  I don't put it away because *GASPS* it's a sex toy.  A few people have noticed it and know what it is, but most people have no clue that it can be used for sexual (as opposed to therapeutic) purposes.  (I'll let the (*LINK NSFW*) Web site (*LINK NSFW*) teach you those.)
It's easy to keep clean, soft and sensuous to the touch, and serves more purposes than you can imagine.  As my back started to get stronger, I would do my rehab exercises (such as leg lifts) using the ramp to put my body in the correct/supported angle.  I can even imagine someone using the ramp to do light weights on an incline. 

 I hope to get the (*LINK NSFW*) Liberator Esse (*LINK NSFW*) at some point in the near future as it provides full support for my neck and back while reclining.  Just think of it as a TV chair for the spinally-challenged.  The gentle curve will help me do the kind of stretching that will help my spine.

**DISCLAIMER**
I did not getting any compensation for this review/blog entry.
The views are my own.
Talk with your doctors/physical therapists before using a Liberator Shape in your rehabilitation.

**OUTTAKE**

Yes, the cats think the Liberator Ramp is a playtoy for them as well.

Big Beautiful Woman.  (not "Basketball Wives") Nope. Not for me.


So if I need a three letter acronym to describe my lifestyle and my body, I choose AVG.  That's right.... AVG or AVERAGE.

I test drove the back earlier today for the first time in two months. 

I ran a mile sometime around noon, and waited to see if it'd implode.  It didn't, so I ran 4 more miles at 7 pm, then went home to ice my neck/back (as preventative measures). 


This is the first time since November 30, 2011/since herniating a disc in my neck that I've been able to run.  

Not exceptionally fast, not exceptionally challenging (a 4 incline at 1 resistance for the whole distance), but it's something. 


My legs and lungs remember how to run; let's hope my neck and back remember how to recover.

I was eight years old when this song was released.  I remember hearing it while reading my mom's version of The Wizard of Oz from when she was a child.  I tell you this because everytime I hear or think of the song, I think of Dorthoy first walking through the Gates of Emerald City. While I might've lacked the maturity to understand all of the lyrics at the time, I think part of me understood that it was a song about discovery and finding a way back to not just your home, but also to the people you love.

Every generation Blames the one before And all of their frustrations Come beating on your door	We are stuck in this cycle of blame, generation after generation. Often our parents try to work out the issues they had with their parents on us.
I know that I'm a prisoner To all my father held so dear I know that I'm a hostage To all his hopes and fears I just wish I could have told him In the living years	Psychologist Carl Jung said that  “the greatest burden a child must bear is the unlived life of the parents” -- along with the burden of the hopes and dreams that our parents have for us (which may not be the life/dreams we have for ourselves).
Crumpled bits of paper Filled with imperfect thought Stilted conversations I'm afraid that's all we've got	Working through this cycle and trying to find a way to understand things and people is often a messy, complicated process.
You say you just don't see it He says it's perfect sense You just can't get agreement In this present tense We all talk a different language Talking in defense	Sometimes we're so bent on our own perception that we forget to see things through someone else's point of view.  Time changes the imperfect perception into clearer/gentler retrospect.
[Chorus] Say it loud, say it clear You can listen as well as you hear It's too late when we die To admit we don't see eye to eye	There's a huge difference between passive hearing and active listening.  When someone is actively listening, they're not preparing what they want to say next.
So we open up a quarrel Between the present and the past We only sacrifice the future It's the bitterness that lasts	Holding an unchangeable past against a person is a roadblock to forgiveness -- the most important step in mitigating suffering.
So don't yield to the fortunes You sometimes see as fate It may have a new perspective On a different day And if you don't give up, And don't give in You may just be OK	Relationships take work. If you don't have the relationship you want with someone, you both can put in the time and work to understand each other.  It might not bring you closer, but it does contextualize what you can no longer control.
[Chorus]
I wasn't there that morning When my father passed away I didn't get to tell him All the things I had to say. I think I caught his spirit Later that same year I'm sure I heard his echo In my baby's new born tears I just wish I could have told him In the living years	It is much easier to repair and mend relationships when the people are living.  As noted in the lyric "every generation blames the one before," there is a cycle between parents and children, a power struggle, an evolution that sometimes doesn't come into focus until the child becomes a parent themself.
[Chorus]

(Confession -- I am all teary-eyed even just reading the lyrics. Forget even listening to the song!)
In Karen Anderson's post ("Lovingly Parenting Myself"), she wrote about parenting herself, but I said that "I find that my “inner critical parent” and “inner nurturing parent” don’t have proper role models or scripts to follow."
In Medicinal Marzipan's post, she asked "what you wish you could give to yourself, if you had limitless time and resources." I wrote "The first thing that came to mind if I had limitless time and resources would be to invent a time machine, go back in history, and teach my parents how to be healthy human beings before they had kids. Or to go back in time before my mother died to be able to both confront and forgive her (writing accusatory/forgiving blog posts only goes so far). On a more practical note, I'd probably send my father and brother to somewhere like the Biggest Loser Resort (as they do not have the required ovaries to go to GMFR) to deal with their eating/health issues at large so we can move forward as a healthy family, not just a family doing their best to cope."

It's not that I didn't have parents that weren't constructively critical or nurturing, but it's that they had their own burdens given to them by their parents that manifested in them as kids and as parents. I recognize that, I understand that. I'm not blaming them for the way I am. Blame cannot change things. I do work through a lot of family issues in this blog in the hopes of understanding who I am, how I came to be, and what is necessary to escape the ways I perpetuate some of the harmful behaviors. However, if I did have the opportunity to change my history without changing who I am today, I'd wish more than anything that my parents (both my living father and my deceased mother) had the same opportunity and desire that I have had to discover myself and to work through the disordered eating/healthy living/self-image issues.

Karen also suggested writing "an essay on your blog on the role of self-love in your journey to health." This reminded me of my Love Letter to Myself. The exercise last February wasn't about finding the things I loved about myself, it was about giving myself the permission to look. This is the foundation (I think) of any meditative practice -- the giving of permission to investigate. If we are stuck in "it is the way it is, and I can't change it"-ness, we become stuck in our own suffering. If we are stuck in our own suffering, we will never experience the freedom available to us unclouded by judgment and unfettered from fear.

I feel like any time we have the courage and ability to step away from our stuck lives -- at retreats like Green Mountain at Fox Run, Blue Cliff, Spirit Rock, or even places like the Biggest Loser Resorts -- we benefit not only from what we can learn there, but from the practice of giving ourselves permission to investigate and possibly evolve.

So while this post has somewhat of a universal appeal, I want to end on a personal note:

Dad --

I do love you (and I'm writing it here so everyone reading knows this). You are a really good person as well as a good father. When mom died, you did the best you could to provide for me and my brother. I recognize that (1) you didn't have the best role model on fatherhood; (2) you were learning how to be a single parent on the fly, (3) you had an uphill battle in gaining our trust and respect, and (4) I was (and still am) very challenging.

I want you to know that my blog isn't an indictment of the past. This is the way I've chosen to figure things out for myself. Any time someone tries to work through their issues, it's going to be messy and imperfect. I've just decided to add another layer to it by making it public in the hopes that someone can benefit from my struggle.

Unfortunately (?), I will continue to challenge you when it comes to your health and wellbeing because I want you to be a part of my life for much longer than mom was. I live with the grief of one parent having died young and the fear of your unhealthy lifestyle robbing me out of my other parent. While it doesn't always come out as so, I'm pushing you to lose weight, get fit, and find happiness (rather than asking you) not just out of love but the selfish desire to have you live (and thrive) until you're 100 or more.

I want to give the gift of self-love to you. I can't wrap it. I can't hand it to you. I can only hope that I've given you the courage to look. I want you to feel the same freedom, confidence, and joy that I have felt. This is how you become the best parent possible -- by living a passionate, exceptional, and inspired life. And if you need it, this is my permission for you to explore how to define yourself as your own person, not just as my father.

With all my love,
Robby

My physical therapist said "this isn't the back a 30 y/o should have."
To which my reply was "I know, STUPID BACK."

I keep on saying "stupid back" to just about anything -- like when I have trouble bending, moving or walking, getting out of a chair, why I'm late to work, why I don't want to go out for lunch, why I don't do anything when I come home, when rehab hurts, when someone touches me in a way that hurts -- it's just the offhand shorthand of saying "I really have this long and complicated history with my back that is part genetics and part trauma and I'm physically and emotionally tired of it."  My "Stupid Back" is what is depressing me and making me feel miserable.  My "Stupid Back" became enemy numero uno. 

On Sunday, I was feeling moderately okay (about a 3/4 on my 10 point pain scale), so I decided to go for a little walk while listening to my favorite podcast by Tara Brach.  Before I realized that it was on shuffle (instead of listening to the most recent one), my iPod landed on "Remembering Love."  The universe was trying to tell me something, to remind me of something.

(roughly quoting) We actually do perceive it like we're struggling against something that's bad.  That is one of the ways that we contract.  Like we're kind of at war with something bad in ourselves.  One of the greatest truths that we always forget is that if we don't regard this life, right here, with love, we can't be happy, and we can't really love our world..... We don't realize how we're turned against ourselves... Every one of us, we're all casted by forces beyond our control.  Just casting.  When we believe that the imperfect cover to our being is what we are, we're in trouble.  Every one of us has these same conditionings, to want to grasp, and to be afraid, and to push away, and to pretend, we all protect.  We all have those forces in us.  The description that the Buddha gave to how we get ourselves in trouble, the First Arrow, this casting, these conditions that we all have, is absolutely inevitable. Our nervous system is rigged, just geared for fight or flight.  The First Arrow is a given; the Second Arrow is optional.  We don't have to react and take personally this conditioning.  I've translated it to "Leaning is a given; knocking ourselves over is optional."

I don't want to quote more because I think it's worth a listen -- but I needed to be reminded of the Buddha's teaching that suffering (the First Arrow) is unavoidable.  Adding judgment and the insult to the injury (Second Arrow) is optional.

My wanting to have a healthier back is (I think) of a normal desire (to want to be healthy) -- but it puts me in this cycle of wanting things to be other than they are.  Having people say "i wish it wasn't like this for you" is kind, but it adds to distancing myself from "what is."

Saying "Stupid Back" distances me from the healing because it makes it seem like my back is the enemy, when my back is what suffers most (I know the brain steers the ship, but the epicenter of the damage is my spine, not my brain).  I've been shooting the second arrow straight into what needed the most compassion and love.   I turned my back...on my back.

To that end, I've amended the goals I keep on my whiteboard in my apartment (see right).  If you can't read the very last line, it is "forgive the injury." 

I'm going to try and catch myself more when I'm doing this.  It's definitely not helping me to have this adversarial relationship with my injury.  It needs care, love, and respect in order for it to get the healing it heeds.

While I feel "broken," I'm going to choose to say that my "repairs are in process."

Thoughts?

1.  So I've had 2 epidurals.  I experienced a great deal of relief (especially regarding the radiating pain down my left arm) after the first epidural.  I feel much the same as I did before the second epidural as I did after the second epidural.  Today was the first day of physical therapy.  The question is whether I have the third epidural or not.  I don't know if I'm in a diminishing returns situation, or if more steroids will help at this point.  There are pros and cons either way. I just don't know where I stand.  What would you do?

2.  I just booked a hotel room for Fitbloggin.  I requested a room with two double beds.  This means that I could have anywhere between 1 and 3 roommates. I've reserved a room from Sept 20-23.  I'm thinking about extending that reservation to September 19th (this rate isn't included in the Fitbloggin price).

Problem is that I met soooo many wonderful people last year at Fitbloggin1that (1) I don't know who to ask,(2) I don't want to offend anyone by not asking, and (3) I'm hoping my room becomes a bit of a party/kitten pile room, wine and pajamas kind of thing.

Anyone down for the chaos?

ALSO -- just a reminder, pack an extra suitcase/bag for all the swag.  Trust me, you'll need it or be faced with making some tough decisions.

3.  Part of me really wants to make a #FitBloggin12 "yearbook" -- everyone's face to make for easy identification and so we can write messages to each other.  If I were to make one, would people want to print it/pay to have it printed?

4.  The FatGirlvsWorld/#GoTheDist was a pretty successful gimmick -- do you think I should do it again (different color?) or go the route of business cards?  Identifiable gimmick vs. lots of info??

I chose my college based on one thing:  Dr. Douglas Ubelaker.

I wanted to be a forensic anthropologist because it combined all my nerdy interests -- archaeology, osteology, population genetics, geology, crime scene analysis, and the pursuit of justice. It just so happened that not only is Dr. Ubelaker at the top of his field as well as the curator of physical anthropology at the Smithsonian, but he teaches at GWU.   

My application to GWU was the only college application I prepared.  I was accepted as an early decision student.  I couldn't wait to share the news with Dr. Ubelaker, with whom I had begun a correspondence my senior year in High School.  I developed a 5-year plan where, after the first three years, I would have a degree in Biological Anthropology, and after two more years, I would have a masters degree in forensic anthropology.  Or so I thought.

Standing in my way was Doc Rowley and Chemistry for Science Majors.  Okay, those weren't the obstacles, but rather a touch of dyscalculia and my TA's (teaching assistant who ran the lab sessions) thick accent (she was from Tobago).  For the first time in my life, my grade at the end of a semester was a C minus.  I was beside myself. 

Instead of getting a tutor, or applying myself harder (because I never had to work hard to understand things in HS), my first instinct was to quit.  I went to Doc Rowley (who was not just my professor, but the dean of the school of forensics at the time) and asked to withdraw.  He cited my perfect attendance to his class, my eagerness to participate, and my facility with the material.  We looked at my tests and it was obvious that it all came down to numbers.  He said "I know you know what you're talking about, but you need to quantify it."  We struck a deal that if I didn't pass the first test of the second semester, that he would grant me the withdrawal.  I got a D on that test.  I don't know if it was because I didn't try hard enough, or because I just wanted out of something I had no natural gift for.

When I went to him with the paperwork for the withdrawal he said to me "Come back any time.  I'll be here for you when you're ready."  My copy of the withdrawal slip is one of the few momentos I have kept from college.  A reminder to myself that someone believed in me more than I believed in myself.  In retrospect, I am very proud of that C (though it kept me from graduating summa cum laude) because it has come to represent struggle, not failure.  My failure was not getting the help when I needed it.  Pride got in the way.

I would go on to major in English, with minors in creative writing and biological anthropology (and had I taken some music theory classes, I would have had a minor in vocal performance).  My degree has served me well, especially in light of the surge in interest for forensics that shows like CSI and Bones has created (thus deflating the salaries of most lab monkeys).

---

So, you're wondering how this applies to weight loss and my blog in general?

Confession:  I have gained 11 lbs since the end of November. I'm now over the number I said that I would never go over.

Caveat:  I also haven't had a proper bowel movement thanks to Percocet in a few days, so that might just be artificially inflating the gain.  And yes, I've been drinking lots of water and getting fiber in my diet. 

Truth:  Even if 11 isn't the exact number, my behaviors have failed me.

Factors:
(1) I'm not allowed to exercise at all until I have been cleared by my doctor/physical therapist.  I'm only allowed to walk, and I have a 30-45 minute window before my back/neck starts to hurt.

(2) As a class of drugs, steroids (in this case, Depo Medrol) are known to cause increased appetite and weight gain (among other things). Oh, it has been known to cause depression as well.

(3) I've been insatiable.  I know that is more a mental feeling than a physical one.  I've chosen to quiet the beast by giving it what it wants instead of doing the work of mindful eating.

(4) I've been making bad choices as well as not tracking what I eat.  My choices are based on whim, proximity, and availablility.

Game Plan:
(1) Think about getting a membership to the local YMCA -- they have a pool, go to rehab, negotiate pool privileges with doctork.

(2) The side effects aren't "get out of jail free" cards -- stop treating them like one.  They aren't justification or free passes.  I know the possible side effects.  I don't need to play into them.

(3) Start doing the math again.  Make logical and thoughtful choices based on what I know to be true versus letting my emotions run the show.

(4) Make better choices.  Plan better. 

(5) Learn the lessons from the story above:  (a) enlist help; (b) admit shortcomings; (c) realize that I haven't unlearned anything; (d) come back to it when I'm ready.

and most importantly...

(6) Don't give up without a fight.