So if my last post was about how I was going along pretty swimmingly, this post is, well, sort of the opposite.
Welcome to the life of Kate: where nothing is ever boring or straightforward.
I will start with something positive though: I did promise to write my next blog post about Pre-Season, and where I'm up to with that. Well, I did! It's just that I didn't post it on my blog here! It's on another special blog, the 12WBT blog! It was an honour to do a bit of writing for the 12WBT team, and share a little of my thoughts on Pre-Season! The blog post is here if you wanna read it. :)
That was the highlight of my week. Unfortunately I had a few too many low lights to scramble through, too. Just your average week, I know. But this week just seemed a little tougher than most.
I'm not going to do a depressing play-by-play, but at the same time this blog has been, for coming up to 3 years, like my little outlet of all things health / weight loss / fitness gain related, and blogging about it will at least get it off my chest, no matter how high level I describe it.
So I last posted at the 6 week mark of this year. I was on track, I had not strayed, I was so proud of myself. I have never been on track for 6 weeks straight before. It's now 8 weeks into the new year and as much as I would love to say I kept it going, I slipped.
I can't even pinpoint just how I did so. It started with a pub meal that I allowed myself to have. I often have treats but they're well planned for and written down. This pub meal was not planned for, well at least not until that afternoon when I just 'felt' like it.
I'm forever going after that happy medium / non 'all or nothing' / middle ground / non deprivation way of living: I'm not very good at it yet, but I am improving.
I just wanted a chicken parmy. So I let myself have it. It somehow went hand in hand with a long night of Long Island Iced Teas. I don't drink very often anymore, so the whole night was really a once off. It's ok, it happens.
But, my old trick immediately crept back in, and I kept it going. It's a behaviour I've had since I was 16 so it's a bit hard to shake. The ol' "well while I'm at it, I may as well...." and I continue the unclean eating.
I kept it going for the rest of the week. By Weigh In Wednesday, I'd eaten off plan for 4.5 days. I put on 2.3kg.
I don't often ask for help and as much as my openness on social media would suggest otherwise, when things are wrong, I don't usually talk about it. But I'm very lucky to have a supportive relationship with my beautiful trainer, Margie, and I spoke to her one morning and just said it as it was. I tell her just everything (the poor thing) but this issue seemed hard to admit: that it had crossed my mind to quit.
A week down the track now, I can't comprehend how I could ever feel like that, but, I did. I also can't recall how I had the strength to pull myself back up so quickly, but, I also did. :) Sometimes it helps to lighten the load if you share with someone else.
I went strong for 3 days. On the 3rd day I had a sudden medical issue - one moment everything was fine - and then suddenly I ended up having to visit my second home: Emergency.
|Sick of this view|
I don't know yet if I'm ok: I think I am, but I won't have confirmation for a little while. I have to have further testing which will involve surgery and a general anesthetic: two of my biggest fears. I've had a lot of medical tests in my time but have never had any of that, and I am beyond terrified about it. I've had nightmares all week, one dream involved someone giving me anesthetic and knocking me out while at my desk.
One thing that really affected me from that night is that at one point a doctor explained we had to wait for a test to come back to see if I needed to be given a blood transfusion. It's such a small part in this whole week's story but it's possibly the part that has affected me the most. I didn't end up needing one. But I was, and am, in shock that they had to check. For an hour I lay there, waiting for the answer. I had only donated blood myself 1 week earlier. When I donated, my thoughts involved how much it hurt this time (it usually doesn't), being offended about something weight related that happened when I was there (another story for another blog post) and which snack I would choose at the end.
Never, ever did it occur to me that day, or ever, that I may need blood myself. Especially not only a week later, on some random Friday night. Other people need blood, not me. I give it! So yeah, such a little thing has shaken me up a bit.
Anyway, a combo of me just letting loose after this night and going away for that weekend saw me indulge for another 2.5 days. And, like the previous week, I let it continue on Monday and Tuesday as well. Two weeks in a row, I did well Wednesday - Friday night, then Friday night - Tuesday, let it all go.
This Wednesday my weight remained the same - to the exact gram - which was a surprise. I was pretty lucky I didn't put any on. I broke the new Friday night tradition this weekend and am proud to say I've been back on track since Wednesday: and plan to continue this way. I could clean up my act a little, and pull in the reigns, but overall I am doing ok.
So that's been the gist of the past 2 weeks; food and weight wise. Exercise wise I'm still in a little bubble of frustration, still on limited duties. I'm going with it, and mostly I'm patient, but I have little moments where I get so down and frustrated that I can't do more. I see my team mates going nuts and pushing themselves to their limit, and I'm over in my little corner, hobbling along feeling like I'm doing nothing. At least I'm doing something, I know.
Other than that, I've just really, really struggled through this week. I've been riddled with stress and anxiety. I'll talk about anxiety another day, but stress wise, it's been a shocker. Stress has absolutely consumed me. I think I cried about 5 or 6 times over Thursday and Friday - which is very unlike me. Always at the worst possible moments, too: when someone has asked if I was ok. So embarrassing.
I've also been so negative, and that in itself has been dragging me down. I'm not a negative person by nature. I don't think I'm a smile-always-glass-is-always-brimming-over positive person either, but I am definitely not negative. My nickname with one friend is 'Sunshine' and most of my friends see me like this. So to be negative is out of character, and that in itself is getting to me.
There's a lot of negativity around me at the moment: 7 friends and family have been diagnosed with Cancer this past week. It's gotten to a point where I'm actually not dealing with it. That is way too many, especially in such a small period of time. I also had 4 friends in hospital the day before me, and I can't stop thinking about all of these people - each of them have been constantly on my mind.
One smart friend of mine helped me work out the link between my negativity and my shock about all of the people around me. It sort of seems obvious now that I write it out, but I hadn't seen it before she connected the two. It's sort of no wonder I'm feeling negative. It was a relief when we worked this out, because I was starting to get concerned, because it's just not like me. I think also that all of this has put an even greater negative outlook on my own medical stuff.
I don't really have any answers or inspirational way to finish this post, to tie it all together. It's just been a really shit week and I've struggled a lot. I'm sure next week will be brighter. I can't really easily describe where I'm at with weight loss either, as I am literally muddling my way through day to day. I guess I'm imperfectly on track with food and am barely doing the amount of exercise I should be, but am doing what I can.
|Do you like my new doona cover? <3|
If you've read this far, thank you for listening to what has been a fairly unstructured, long getting-it-off-my-chest rant. Life is so topsy-turvy, we can only do the best we can xxx
P.S. To end on a positive: I quit smoking 3 years ago today! :)
|Food prepped for Week 5|