Taking the Day Off

Well, today is the first time in months that I'll be taking off two days in a row from exercise. 

I could feel my body telling me last week that it needed a day off, but I was too stubborn to listen. I plugged my ears with my fingers and told it, "Lalalala... I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" So, it said, "Okay, fine. Deal with this..." and-- WHAMMO! --It dosed out one hell of a flare. Knocked me flat on my ass.

I really can't be too upset at it, after all, it did try to warn me of its limits, and it did give me a couple of days to fulfill its request for rest.

Anyway, I have some Lortab left over from when I sprained my back after having the baby last November (I've since come to realize: having kids in your 30s is a completely different set of rules, compared to having them in your 20s). I save these little gems for when I'm really hurting badly. At first, I thought I wouldn't need it, that I could just deal with it, like I usually do. 

After I put the baby down for her nap I all but collapsed onto the couch and tried to take a nap, thinking after some rest I would feel better. Not the case, the pain started to get worse and I could feel it come alive from my head to my toes. I knew when my fingers started to throb it was time to give in and take something stronger than Tylenol.

I cut one pill in half, downed it, and then laid back down and prayed to God that the baby would sleep more than an hour as I waited for the meds to kick in. Well, she only slept an hour, but it was enough and I was feeling much better. I wasn't even groggy from the Lortab. I got her up, played with her and we had a good time, we went outside and I watered my flowers and I thought, "Damn! It's amazing how much better I feel. I almost feel normal!" The pain I live with every day was gone. Not a hint lingering. I briefly wished that I could take one of those pills every day, but I know that's not logical and this is just my life right now so I pushed that yearning aside and carried on, enjoying the brief respite from the pain. 

The strange thing is, I was doing great until it was time for her second nap. I got hungry, so I fixed myself a light sandwich. After I finished eating, I got so incredibly sleepy. I had to lay down. I was exhausted. I'm not sure if it was my body trying to recover from the pain I was experiencing or what, but I knew it was time to call in reinforcements. 

I called my mother-in-law and asked if she would be able to watch the baby after she got up from her nap for a few hours so I could rest. She's absolutely wonderful and a very good friend. She knows about my Fibro issues and is always willing to lend a hand when she can. Thankfully, she didn't have anything going on and said to bring her over when I was ready. I did and then went home, took a shower and went to bed. After laying down for a couple of hours, I felt better, but still groggy. Very groggy. I didn't think it was because of the medicine, because it didn't hit me until about an hour and a half after I'd taken it. Who knows.

So, today, I still have very low energy levels but I'm not hurting badly like I was yesterday. I thought it would be best to behave and play it safe and put off any kind of exercise until tomorrow.I'd rather not awaken the beast--I learned my lesson yesterday am not interested in rattling its cage.  

Getting to Know You...

Hello. 

My name is Christine. I'm 35, married, a mother to four beautiful kids (one fur baby), I have 50 pounds to lose-- and I have Fibromyalgia. 

Before I take you along with me for a ride through my weight loss journey, first let me give you a little background...

In 2007 I was weaned off the anti-depressant, Effexor. A couple of months later I began to experience flu-like symptoms. You know, the usual aches & pains, very slight fever, and fatigue--omg, the fatigue! No--exhaustion is more like it. All the time. At the time we had no medical insurance so I decided to let it run its course and hoped in just a few days I'd be feeling much better.

A couple weeks later, when I wasn't showing any signs of improvement, it became clear that this was not simply a "bug" that I couldn't shake.  My husband and I were discussing all this one night and we came to the conclusion that my symptoms appeared shortly after my last dose of Effexor. So, like any red-blooded American, I Googled it.

There were many sites that talked about going through a withdrawal after coming off Effexor, but nothing much about why or what to do about it. Months later, after I had acquired health insurance through a new employer, I sought out treatment. Having researched my symptoms for months, I was not at all surprised when the Rheumatologist diagnosed me with Fibromyalgia. I was both relieved and afraid--relieved to have an answer to this chronic, widespread pain and afraid at the diagnosis and the fact that, at present time, there is no cure. 

I was prescribed Lyrica and it was the wonder-drug, in my opinion. I wasn't in agony anymore. I still had very low energy, but I didn't have to go to sleep after dinner anymore. I was getting some sort of life back. The only drawback from the Lyrica was the weight gain. I gained fifteen pounds in no time flat. 

Long story short too late, later that year I was able to quit the stress factory that was my job and became a stay-at-home mom. I decided it was time to try to get into shape.

A few years prior, I used to be a regular jogger. I loved it and each day I couldn't wait to get in a run and on the days I didn't run, I felt off balance. It was my outlet for the mountains of stress I was under and I became a serotonin addict: Screw chocolate--gimme a pair of sneakers, my mp3 player and let's run! 

So, when the numbers 215 appeared on a friend's bathroom scale, I was devastated. Never before in my life had I ever come close to weighing that much.  It felt like those numbers leaped up off the digital read out and slapped me across the face. I looked up into the mirror and for the first time in a long time actually saw ME--all of me. It was like a veil had been lifted from my eyes and I saw in just how bad of shape I really was. I didn't know the person looking back at me and was shocked that my husband never once made mention about all the weight I had put on. I was touched, honored and grateful to have such a wonderful, loving husband who accepted me for me, and at the same time, was mortified at the thought of him seeing me balloon up.

I vowed, right then and there, that I would begin my journey to a healthy me, only, I didn't have the slightest clue just how hard it would actually be now that I had this monkey on my back. My Fibro monkey-- Careful, it bites.

It has taken me a long time to figure out HOW to workout with the fibro. I get so angry and frustrated at times because I want to do so much more than my body will allow me, and I have to go at its pace--not mine. Otherwise, I risk a flare up that could set me back days.

I'm making progress, slow progress, but it's progress. I'm not on the Lyrica anymore and, even though I still experience flares almost every single time I do a walk (i.e. every night), the more fit I become, the less their severity. 

I've lost eighteen pounds so far and am delighted to be back into the 100's. I try to walk everyday (even though some days I know I should let my body rest but I've become addicted again to this "exercise" thing). I usually try to walk 1.5 miles at 3.0 mph. Now that our daily high temperature is in the 100's, I've only been walking a mile in the mornings, but sometimes in the evenings I can get in an other mile after the sun is mostly set.

I have an account with Myfitnesspal.com and I'm trying to stay between 1,200 and 1,500 calories/day. It's taken a bit, but I'm actually doing pretty well with that now. I have an amazing support system, which I cannot stress enough how important it is to have. I'd like to get a heart rate monitor to see exactly how many calories I'm burning-- especially when pushing the baby in the stroller or pulling her in her bike trailer. I KNOW I'm burning some extra calories there! I say I have fifty pounds to lose, and I'll be very happy with that number, but I'd be ecstatic over sixty.

So, anyway, there you have it in a somewhat crazy nutshell. I'm not sure if anyone is going to read this blog, and I don't know how often I'll be able to update because life is CRAZY-busy with three kids (one baby), but I thought I'd document my journey and, hell, if it can inspire, help or motivate just one person, it'll be well worth it.