New Year’s Resolution: Don’t Pursue Happiness

Tags

fitness, happiness, ideal self, new year's Resolutions, weight, writing

I have mixed feelings about New Year’s Resolutions. I feel like people make resolutions just to feel good for a while, and don’t really think about it. Most years I don’t give a thought to my resolutions until New Year’s Eve rolls around again.

But there have been exceptions.

Many years ago, I made a resolution to “SORT THE F&%$ OUT OF MY LIFE”. I was struggling in a relationship in which the same problems kept coming back, and no amount of arguments seemed to change or improve things. I was painfully aware of the fact that my best friend who lived on the other side of the country gave me more emotional support and interesting conversation than my significant other, and I felt that this was not how the world should be.

But I wasn’t sure how to change things. And as the year passed and I became increasingly worried about the fact that my life was NOT getting sorted out, I found the resolve to put down a foot, and say, “if X happens again, I am done with the relationship”.

It happened again. I ended the relationship.

I can’t say that it made me happier. Ending a long term relationship with someone you genuinely care about does not make life happier. It was painful and chaotic and I felt like my entire life had been turned upside down.

But I knew that nothing could get better until I did that. It was a necessary, if unpleasant, step.

Within six months I had started officially dating my best friend, and life was much better. It was unspoken from day one that we would get married. Sometimes you just know these things.

Things got sorted out, and I ended up happier in the long run.

So when I read this article about how the pursuit of happiness is a false God, it spoke to me. Specifically, it said this:

It’s the perpetual pursuit of fulfilling our ideal selves which grants us happiness, regardless of superficial pleasures or pain, regardless of positive or negative emotions. This is why some people are happy in war and others are sad at weddings. It’s why some are excited to work and others hate parties. The traits they’re inhabiting don’t align with their ideal selves.

The end results don’t define our ideal selves. It’s not finishing the marathon that makes us happy, it’s achieving a difficult long-term goal that does. It’s not having an awesome kid to show off that makes us happy, but knowing that you gave yourself up to the growth of another human being that is special. It’s not the prestige and money from the new business that makes you happy, it’s the process of overcoming all odds with people you care about.

He talks a lot about how people mistake pleasure for happiness, and how worrying about their own happiness can make them afraid to take important life steps which will, for a while, make them less happy.

And when I look back on it, the resolutions I have kept in the past were the ones that really mattered to me. The ones that were life changing.

And so, this year, I resolve to try to pursue my ideal self. I will try to make changes that align myself with the person I feel that I am inside, the person that I want to be.

Since that person is thinner, but dieting has never worked long-term for me, I am going to try to increase my exercise and make a conscious effort to eat along the lines of the diabetic diet I was on during pregnancy. I think that even if I don’t lose a lot of weight, I will feel better about myself if I am more active and make good eating choices more often. I will feel closer to my ideal self.

I think that losing weight would make me happier, but I am not going to make that a goal. I am just going to become the kind of person who COULD.

I am breaking out the old fit bit, and I am going to download Zombies Run onto my phone. I will listen to it while walking the dog, and we’ll see if that helps keep me moving.

Since that ideal self is also a dog trainer and a writer, I am going to focus on finishing and then publishing (through createspace if necessary) my dog training book, even if that means that I have to put my fiction book aside for now. Having that dog training book will help get me business, and help free me from the shackles of working as someone else’s employee.

Once I have done that, then I can play with fiction.

We’ll see how this goes. But something needs to change, and I am going to start now.

Stupid Weight Loss Means I Can’t Have Carbs.

Tags

atkins, carbohydrate cravings, dieting, portion control, psychiatrist, weight, wellbutrin

I had an appointment with my shrink yesterday.

She said that they often try taking people off of their meds a year after the baby is born, but she didn’t think that I was ready, especially since I’m about to start a new job and you all know how WELL I deal with change! Not to mention that I get blue just thinking of losing my Babby time, and the fact that I develop anxiety when away from Babby for more than two or three hours.

I start next week, full time. It’s going to be FUN.

She was also intrigued by my new diet.

“Have you tried, just… moderation?” my shrink asked. (I hate it when people ask questions like this. Do they really expect me to say “No, I haven’t tried just eating less. What a great idea!“?)

“Yes. I gain weight.”

“You can’t do it?”

“No, I can’t, and on the rare occasion that I succeed, it doesn’t matter,” I said. “I gain weight if there are any simple sugars in my diet. But no, I can’t do moderation. One piece of bread leads to more. Always.”

“I thought that you said the Wellbutrin reduced your carb cravings?”

“It did.”

And I told her how it was before.

How, whenever I tried to cut out carbs, I would find myself near tears in the grocery store, looking longingly at the Olivieri pasta.

How, one time, when I couldn’t find the dregs of a bag of chips, I ransacked the entire house (including linen closets) trying to find it. It turned out that PH had finished the bag and thrown it away.

You know that Sex and the City episode, where Miranda takes cake out of the garbage and eats it? That was me.

The Wellbutrin DOES help.

I have passed day three of my no-carb diet, and I haven’t cried at all. Mind you, I’m not being overly strict. On Monday I ate PH’s Strawberry and Spinach salad, and on Tuesday we dipped our fried tofu in Sweet Chili Sauce, and yesterday I ate more tomato in my Greek Salad than would be ideal for “induction” Atkins.

But no bread, no pasta, no potatoes. That’s HARD. Especially since I am still giving Babby bread and fruit. I actually asked Perfect Husband to cut up Babby’s strawberries this morning, because I didn’t trust myself. As it was, when one piece got pushed out of Babby’s reach, I licked my fingers after handing it to him.

My cravings may be reduced, but they’re still there. In fact, in light of the fact that I don’t dare/want to do it more strictly than I am, I keep wondering if it’s even worth it.

I decided that if I hadn’t lost weight by today, I would give up.

I have lost two and a half pounds.

DAMN. That means I have to keep on this, because it may be starting to work.

Hell.

So, for motivation, here are some picures of me, before and after carbs:

Christmas 2002 – pre Atkins, 150 lbs

Christmas 2003, 4 months post Atkins, 126 lbs (PH says I was TOO thin then)

Spring 2004, on maintenance Atkins, 130 lbs

My first trip to Vancouver, 2006, 145 lbs

Wedding day, June 2008, 148 lbs

Early 2010, three months pregnant, 160 lbs, and gobbling ALL carbs ALL the time

August 2010, 213 lbs

This June, 175 lbs

Dieting Is No Walk In The Park

Tags

atkins, dieting, exercise, weight

In 2003, between my third and fourth year at university, I tried a diet with my mother for two weeks.

It was called Atkins.

For two weeks we ate nothing but protein and leafy vegetables. No bread. No pasta. No potatoes. No reason to live.

The weight melted off.

I stayed on the diet for the rest of the summer. I lost 30 pounds, I had more energy than an ADHD kid on Redbull, and I felt AWESOME about myself.

I kept that weight off for a year, too. During the week I fed myself protein and veggies, and on weekends I splurged on a bag of chips or some popcorn. That held my weight steady.

That was one of the best years of my life so far.

The next year I was graduated and working as a telemarketer. I missed university. I missed Perfect Husband, who was still just Best Friend Who Worshipped Me From Afar But Now Lived In Frigging Vancouver. I hated my job.

I started eating perogies for lunch.

Then my boyfriend’s mother brought us an economy sized box of Kraft Dinner.

Then, when I suggested cooking something other than Kraft Dinner, my boyfriend would say “ugh, I don’t feel like eating *insert suggestion here*. Let’s get McDonalds.”

I gained 10 pounds.

Since that wondrous summer, when I broke free of my carb addiction, my weight has slowly creeped ever upwards.

I was 213 before Babby was born. Since then, my weight has plateaued at 175, which is still a good 15 pounds heavier than my pre-baby weight, and THAT was a good 15 pounds heavier than I was on my wedding day, and THAT was 15 pounds heavier than I was after the Summer of Awesome.

I don’t recognize myself in photos.

One problem is that no other diet seems to work for me. Diabetes runs in my family and my body just seems to chemically bond to sugar and then somehow turn it into twice its weight worth in fat. I could eat nothing but salads and whole grain bread, but so long as that bread is there, my weight wouldn’t budge.

The other problem is that I can never get past those first few days, when you’re detoxing from the carbs and you feel like you would sell your soul for a piece of toast.

…that is a universal feeling, right?

Well, I’m trying again. I don’t dare do it too strictly – I don’t want to mess with my milk – but I have to do SOMETHING. I hate my weight. I hate how I look. My clothes don’t fit. It’s just UGH.

But it’s only day 2 of the diet and already I’m starting to think: “Do I really want to ruin my last week off with Babby by cutting out carbs?”

And then I think “Do I really feel like I can’t enjoy my SON without CARBS?”

So I’m fighting it. But it’s hard going. Without carbs to soothe me, everything feels too difficult.

Take our morning walk: I can’t force myself to go all the way down and up the hill on our normal daily walk without my walkolate bar to reward me, so I’m taking dog and baby across the road to the playground.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I’m glad they’re happy, at least.

Anyone have a piece of toast I can nibble? I have a baby I could sell you.

JigglyPuff, the Reprise

Tags

babies, edema, fluid retention, pregnancy, preparation for baby, weight

“WHAT is up with your weight?” the nurse said when she came into the exam room yesterday. It was my 39 week appointment and the OB had had to run out to an emergency c-section, so I was just seeing the nurse instead of the OB.

“I don’t know!” I wailed.

“You were coming along totally normally until a few weeks ago. Then you shot up six pounds, up five more, down six, and now you’re up six again. Have you been doing anything lately?”

“No… I think it’s water weight. Dr. Hazy said I have a lot of edema.”

“Your blood pressure is fine, though…” she pondered. She put me on the table, measured the baby, and poked me a bit.

“Well, your baby is taking up a lot of room, but he’s not unusually large or anything. Your uterus is measuring right within expected limits. Your ankles ARE swollen, but I’ve seen way worse. I guess the swelling does go up your legs, too…”

“It’s all over,” I whined. “I haven’t been able to wear my rings for months. My watch digs in – look – I couldn’t wear a pair of shoes that used to be way too big for me, and even my maternity pants are too tight. But I can’t be gaining and losing six pounds of fat a week apart from each other, can I?”

“No, and it’s not the baby. Oh well, as long as your blood pressure is fine…”

I don’t feel “oh well” about it. I don’t mind the big belly. I really don’t. I was ready for that. Even the ankle swelling I was prepared for. But guys, I am SO FAT all over. I hate pictures of myself. I hate that I hate pictures of myself, because I’ve looked forward to beautiful pregnancy photos my whole life. But my face looks fat. My Wii Fit Plus thinks I’m OBESE. I look at pictures and I don’t see a glowing pregnant lady. I see a FAT lady who also happens to be pregnant. The rolls of fat, or fluid or whatever that is around my face and neck squeeze me at night.

If the last crazy weight fluctuations ARE all water, that’s 13 pounds of water weight I’m carrying around on top of forty odd pounds of fat, placenta, baby and blood volume. I’m afraid that I’ll hate photos of myself forever, that I’ll have this baby and still be told that I’m obese.

Picture progression:

Three months

Four months

five months

six months

eight months

Now

Anyway, it’s really starting to hit Perfect Husband that we’re going to be parents in just a week or two. Maybe it is the actual imminence of the birth itself, or maybe it’s the fact that a recent cooling in temperatures has enabled me to actually be useful so I set up shelving in the nursery and folded and laid out all the baby clothes. We don’t have any furniture for the baby’s room yet, because we can’t afford any, so I set up the change pad and the cloth diapers on the dresser in our bedroom. So now it’s beginning to look like we’re actually expecting a baby.

So Monday, PH kicked into gear. We stopped at Shoppers and bought cotton balls and baby wipes. We packed a hospital bag (although it’s missing certain things, like a nursing bra, because I haven’t been able to afford a new bra that doesn’t leave deep red lines in my skin yet. Payday is Thursday). We even installed the car seat in the car, something I’ve been itching to do since we brought it home from my friends’ garage sale a couple of months ago.

So by the end of yesterday, I was feeling much better. But Perfect Husband was like “HOLY CRAP WE’RE HAVING A BABY.”

I’m feeling that too, but I’ve been feeling that for a really long time, so I’m just grateful for things like a place to change the baby, a place to put the baby, a way to bring the baby home, etc.

Those have really been my biggest stressors. Having a person wiggling inside you really kind of makes the ticking clock obvious.

Not having a bassinet was driving me crazy, so last Monday I insisted that we go to Toys R Us and buy the moses basket and stand that I had registered for on my totally-untouched baby registry. They were out of stands, but at least I had the basket. I mentioned it on Facebook and immediately got bombarded by people saying “I was JUST ABOUT to buy you THAT EXACT THING, why you gotta be like that?”

So I was all like “I’m SORRY, okay? But I’m kind of running out of time. The baby is FULL TERM here, people, and I had nowhere for it to sleep.”

So I promised one of the people that she could buy me the stand, and regretted that I had doubted my friends’ plans to give me things before the baby arrived. I chided myself for spending money that didn’t have to be spent out of panic, when waiting two days would have delivered the thing I needed to my door.

That was a week ago.

No sign of a stand yet, or anything else for that matter. I’m glad I got that moses basket, or I’d be FREAKING OUT right now.

PH asked if we should go buy the stand, but I said no because I’d promised this friend that she could get it for me, since I had robbed her of her chance to give me a moses basket. So we just have to wait, and hope it arrives before Babby does. At least that’s not the end of the world. Worst case scenario we can keep the basket between us on the bed at night for a bit until the stand shows up. The important thing is that we have a changing pad, diapers, car seat, a moses basket, and some handmedown clothes/diaper covers/baby carriers. Nothing else matters.

That’s what I’m telling myself.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.