11 Pounds Down, Hard To Get Up

I saw my psychiatrist yesterday and got weighed in. I lost exactly 11 pounds over the course of the last 9 weeks. Last time I was 192.6 and this time I was 181.6. But it didn’t thrill me. I’ve been wanting so much to lose weight, wanting it to go faster and focusing so much on my size. But here’s this good news in that department, and I basically feel the same. I’m glad it wasn’t bad news; I’m not disappointed. But losing weight isn’t really making me happy. Now in theory, I could have told you a long time ago that that would be the case. If I’ve learned anything from Fat is a Feminist Issue by Susie Orbach, it’s that losing weight doesn’t make you happy in the end. Most people gain it back. They have a fantasy that weight is their only problem, and if they could just lose it, everything would be OK. But in order to maintain this fantasy, you have to keep gaining the weight back. If you stay thin, you have to actually deal with your life.

So I’m trying to focus more on my real problems, but that’s not something I really want to do. I feel stuck in my recovery from my mental illness. I feel like I’m in the same place I was in for years- generally depressed with occasional bouts of rage or anxiety. The really bad stuff from last year when I was off my meds completely has gone away, and for the most part so have the suicidal thoughts. But instead of raging and throwing things and planning my imminent death, now I’m “just” depressed. I feel generally unmotivated, I find it hard to get out of bed, I absolutely despise the gym, and washing my hair is a big deal. I relayed all of this to my doctor and was met with basically a blank stare. In his mind, I’m sure, I’m still improving, still doing a little more each time I see him, and I guess to some extent that’s true. I went to a meditation class this week as well as two OA meetings. I had a grueling 3-hour dental procedure and an appointment with a genetic counselor screening for cancer risk. That appointment was all good news, but the dentist was a nightmare. I’m scheduled for gum surgery and then for a new permanent crown. I’m trying not to disturb the temporary crown and still eat, but it’s not an easy feat. I’m having more smoothies and blended soups than I’d like to. I succumb to the urge to just eat frozen yogurt for lunch more often than is probably healthy. So it’s been two steps forward, two steps back for the most part.

But my overall sense is that I’m stuck in this general depression, hopelessness, and negativity. I have a fantasy that I can solve all of this by starting a meditation practice and doing lots of yoga. This fantasy was even encouraged by my psychiatrist. But I’ve been down this rabbit hole before. I simmered with rage as he explained how to meditate, something I’ve done for years at a stretch and for which I require no instruction. I’ve done yoga for many years as well, and never has either practice put a dent in my mental illness. But I have this little glimmer of hope now that maybe it’ll be different now that I’m medicated. Maybe my meds give me enough of a boost to actually benefit from meditation and yoga. I think an experiment is in order. God knows I’ve experimented with enough drug combinations over the years. I think I could handle a daily meditation for a month to see if it helps.

I picked up a flyer for one of those 3-weeks-for-$30 yoga deals (I used to rotate around NY on those deals, trying all the studios for the trial period since I couldn’t actually afford to pay for class). For this one you get unlimited classes for the 3 weeks, which sounds promising. But I’m still so self-conscious about my weight that I don’t know if I could handle the scrutiny of a yoga teacher or other yoga students. Maybe I should just start with meditation.

The meditation class I attended was pretty stupid- it was a 90 minute session and we only actually meditated for a total of 27 minutes. The rest of the time was this rando white guy talking real low into a microphone trying to explain “Buddha nature,” pandering to the typical 9-5 office worker with kids and a full social life. Since I relate to none of those things, and because he didn’t have any brilliant insight into the subject at hand, I was bored out of my mind, watching the clock and hoping we’d just meditate already.

My psychiatrist suggested just doing it on my own, which sounds a lot better than all that bullshit. It’s just so hard to self-motivate. Having a time and place and people around to help you motivate really helps. But I do have a little stool in the corner in my closet for this very purpose. I just usually err on the side of lying on the bed and ruminating about the wreckage that is my life. Maybe scheduling a specific time for it would help? Well, it’s all I’ve got to work with for now. The only medication change I have to report is to take out the Metformin (a blood-sugar regulating drug). Matt read an article about how it might be holding me back with exercise endurance-wise. Since I’ve lost over 40 pounds now, taking it out couldn’t do any harm, so my doctor agreed to it. Maybe this will make exercise less tortuous? We’ll see.