- June 8th, 2016
I don't know if this is the bipolar cycle of schizoaffective disorder, or if it's just Life's Little Ups & Downs™, but all of a sudden, I feel great. I'm going to make an effort to take care of myself. I've lost some weight, about fifteen pounds in two weeks, and I know that's not healthy. In the past, I'd have just wanted to keep losing, but I actually like how I look right now. I don't love how I feel-- I wish I smoked less, could walk farther, and was stronger... But I'm getting there. I've been swimming in my pool lately (three days in a row!) which isn't much, but as a person who loathes exercise, that's a lot for me. I swam sixty laps yesterday, and I'm so proud of that. I used to be on a swim team in middle school, and I loved it. I was the best swimmer on the team, and I stopped because 1. I got busy with school, 2. It was a forty-five minute drive that my mom had to make with me, and it got increasingly stressful because she always wanted to talk to be about feelings, and I was very defensive, and 3. I was gaining time on my laps because I was so underweight, and my muscles had atrophied somewhat, so I wasn't as strong as I used to be. My muscles are still really tired and weak because I never exercise, but I'm going to get stronger if I keep swimming! My shoulders are already really sore, which feels great, and I could feel a burn in my thighs yesterday after a few laps. My legs aren't sore today, which is okay, but I'm hoping that if I keep swimming, they'll get sore, tone up, and look even more amazing than they already do. Even though I have fat thighs, I have really, really nice legs. Christin doesn't think my thighs are fat or even that they're ugly because of the scars. I get "chub rub" because I wear booty shorts when I wear shorts, and my thighs rub together and make little red bumps that make me want to set my fat self on fire-- No, I'm not going to talk to myself like that. Skin sweats, friction happens. I get the same bumps on the back of my thighs from where they rub against the swing. It's not because I'm fat. I have fat on my body because I'm a human with a body, and I would die if I didn't have fat on my body. It keeps me warm and keeps my brain functioning. Not all fat is bad. My legs are beautiful. They help me swim, they get me to class, they tap incessantly, and Christin likes to bite them, and all of these are good things.
Anyway, I went grocery shopping today to help my mom out (I mean, it saves her time. She lets me use her credit card.) and it was actually really good. I love grocrey shopping because I hunt for good deals, and I pick out new snacks to try. My goal for this week is to eat a better breakfast. I have two breakfasts that I eat. Either two eggs and one fifty-five calorie piece of toast, plus coffee (55) and fruit. Or I eat six bites of cereal with milk (about 1/4 cup), coffee (55) and fruit. At the Creek, we always ate huge breakfasts with like six or seven things. I'm not going back to that, but I got figs, cashews, cottage cheese, whole grain mountain bread, and sunflower butter to have as part of breakfast. The sunflower butter was huge for me because I've been terrified to eat peanut butter ever since I was fifteen, and I have eaten it maybe three times in the past five years. Sometimes when I really hate myself, I'll force myself to eat it as punishment or something dumb like that. It's gotten to the point where touching the jar or just smelling it scares me. I wanted an alternative that I could get used to, and then ease myself back into eating peanut butter. So I stood in front of the nut butters for like ten minutes having a Total Fucking Meltdown™ and texting Christin about "healthy fats." She suggested getting the powdered kind because it has no fat and only like fifty calories, but I ended up getting the sunflower butter that has slightly less fat than peanut butter, just as much protein, and actually has more calories, which I probably need. She told me she's proud of me, which made me so happy, and that it's important to her that I'm healthy so that we can do more things together and have adventures and spend as much time together as we possibly can. It never occurred to me that she's scared that I'll die too. I'm terrifed that her lupus will turn into the fatal kind. (She has discoid lupus, which isn't fatal, but there's a ten percent chance that it can turn into the other kind and kill her.) I worry aboout that all the time, and Henry tells me that she's going to die because of me, or just in general, and it makes me so sad because I don't know what I'd do without her. But I never thought of it the other way around, that she's scared I'll hurt myself too badly by accident and die, or that I'll starve to death or die of ED complications. I love her. I don't want to die on her. I want to spend forever with her if she'll love me for that long. I'm trying to do better for her, for my family, and for myself. I'm really proud of the progress I've made in the last few days. I think I'm going to be okay.