Life Choices

The end of October found me sick and wishing I was dead. I came down with what the doctor termed as a “bad cold” but, at the time, I was pretty sure he was lying. I felt like I was suffering from some never before diagnosed plague upon mankind. My throat hurt like it had never hurt before, but to be honest, Mom pointed out I do say that every time I get sick and my throat hurts. Anyway, it just came at a bad time for me to be sick. Hall Council Boot Camp (sounds scarier than it is) fell during the weekend I was home laying on the bathroom floor, hugging the porcelain throne, contemplating my own mortality. I had planned to go to Boot Camp and power through feeling like death warmed over, but as I got out of bed, stood up, and threw up down the front of myself I realized perhaps the best part of judgment would be to stay home in my own special petri dish of germs and disease and not share with an unsuspecting world. On a side note, I am hard pressed to think of anything worse than puking down the front of one’s self and then, after showering, cleaning up one’s own puke off the carpet…this after having to lock one’s dog out of the room because he wanted to play vacuum cleaner. Gross.

Anyhooo…when I went to visit the doctor, he asked a ton of questions to which I wanted to say, “Seriously, I’m just here for the drugs, stop with the questions already.” But guessing that attitude would impress few medical professionals I kept it to myself and answered all his lovely questions. He asked if I was married, if I had kids, if I was a student (yes, I thought these were funky questions too, but I wanted the drugs so I played along) and finally what my job was.  After a “no”, an emphatic “no”, and a slightly sad “not any more”, I talked to him about what being an RD means. His response – “You should think about finding a new job.” Followed by telling me I am borderline clinically exhausted and have trained my body to think it doesn’t need things it really needs and as a result I am progressively becoming more and more unhealthy and not even knowing it because I think I am okay. I promised I’d get more sleep until he explained that it wasn’t about sleeping more but about making smart life choices. Yes, sleep was a part of it, but I needed to lose weight (by this time I’d figured out I wasn’t going to get drugs so replied with a somewhat sarcastic, “No, really?!?!”), and in general make choices that lead to me doing things that reduce my stress, and overall lead a balanced lifestyle – which he said, potentially included getting a new job because as far as he could tell that was the main stress in my life. He recommended immediate sweeping changes in my life and rattled off a long list of things I immediately needed to do to become “healthy.” If I have learned anything from my mom (a medical professional) it’s that these people work for me and are not gods, so I told him I thought his advice was wrong. I know myself and sweeping changed don’t work. I won’t be successful and the first time I fail, I’ll feel horrid and won’t want to continue trying. His response – “You need to get over that.” My response to his response – “I can do this on my own – thanks for your time.” So I came home and did what I do best (after more hugging of the porcelain throne) and made a plan. I’m not tackling staying late in the office until next term because I know I won’t be successful at this point in time – this term is about Rolfing (a structural tissue reintegration process designed to reduce pain and give me better posture), thrice weekly trips to Curves, and painting.

Report on my progress thus far…

Rolfing: I went to my first appointment. The only person in Corvallis licensed to do this type of work is a man and the work is supposed to be done while the patient is in a bra and panties. *cough* I don’t hang out in my bra and underwear in front of my dog, I am certainly not going to do so in front of a complete stranger – which is basically what I told him. He asked if I had any tight work out type clothes that were shorts and skin tight top so he could see how my muscles worked with my bones etc. So I created an outfit from sweat pants (which I cut off mid-thigh…Clinton and Stacey would flip) and a pull over tank top that is just too small for me to wear in public. It works for him, I can still be modest and all’s right with the world.

He worked a lot on my arms, shoulders, ribcage and chest trying to open up my breathing and I’ve got to tell you, there is a difference in my posture. I still have to make choices about sitting and standing but just the breathing techniques he gives me to practice have been great min-breaks throughout each of my days.

Curves: Before grad school, I worked out at Curves. It’s nice to be back. This time they have different equipment and holy hannah – you really work on these things! So the deal this time around is they give you a computer chipped card that you pop into each machine on which you work out. This card has measured your personal abilities on each of the machines as a part of the sign up process and takes into consideration your goals both in inches to lose and fat to lose. The machines give you immediate feedback in that if you aren’t working out hard enough an amber light flashes, if you are working out too hard the green light flashes, if you are just right the green light stays steady. It also measures your range of motion so if you try to cheat by not really pushing and pulling your the red light shows you that your range of motion is bad. As you progess through the workouts and meet more and more of your loss goals (which is all measured and stored on the computer) the chip begins to expect more of you in the work out. The repetitions and speed with which I can do the machines is increased so I constantly have feedback and a specialized work out plan. It’s great…I’m continually competing against myself and my goals and targets. I kinda love it. Of course I feel like a puddle of goo when I leave Curves, but about an hour later I feel less like I am going to die and more like life is worth living.

Painting: Before grad school I really enjoyed painting, and by painting I mean slopping fun colors on canvas and moving it around with a brush and no real plan for any final product. I started painting the other night again (first time since I left Bend) and was so happy playing with the colors it was ridiculous. I just had the best time. Spencer ran around the living room dragging Lambie Lamb by his left ear and I happily mixed browns and golds to my little heart’s content. It was utterly divine.

Thus far the life revitalization plan, or the LRP (pronounced lerp) as I like to call it, is going well. I know I need to make choices and changes in order to be a healthier person but I also know that it is going to be a process. I’m not going to change the context in which I have lived for years in a few short days. But I think I’ve made some good first steps.