Tag: writing

The Reunion, What a Party, (But Not Really, lol)

Most of us gals that got together for the reunion that I wrote about here, are on Facebook.  But the reunion was just for us, so none of us really felt the need to post on Bragbook, oops, I mean Facebook, about the events of the reunion, by sharing some of the hundreds of pictures we took.  The weekend was just for us.

For me, in addition to making those connections again, (which was so amazing, I cannot believe I ever worried about it), I wanted to get those ever important “great pictures,” which I did.  😊 

Because this blog is in a fairly quiet little corner of the internet, I think I will share those wonderful pictures here.  

And tell a funny story about my husband.

The morning of the reunion, my husband dropped me off with my back pack of clothes for the weekend, and with another back pack with pajamas and snacks for the sleepover.  He wished me a fabulous weekend, and headed home with our dog and cat for his own weekend of fun and sun on the lake, (because the weather was beautiful!)

But before he left he said, “Now, make sure you don’t let them talk you into doing anything you are not comfortable doing.”  Bahaha, what did he think I was, a teenager who may succumb to peer pressure?  I think he has watched too many chick flicks.  I never should have let him watch Bridesmaids with me, lol.

It was because of that comment, that after our very quiet lunch out at a winery on the Saturday afternoon of the weekend, I had one of my friends take a picture of me in front of this party bus.  I texted my husband this picture with the caption, “Well…we did a thing…”

The truth was, after lunch half of us—the out-of-towners—went to the big shopping mall, and the rest of us went back to the townhouse, where we all took a nap, true story!  At first I was going to just scroll my phone on the couch while the others laid down for a bit in some of the bedrooms, but then I actually fell asleep on the couch!  You see, we had the sleepover the night before, and what did we do?  We stayed up very late watching Netflix, so I was more tired than I realized!

Anyhow, it was the best weekend ever, I am so glad I was there for all 3 days.  

So, here  are the pictures of me, and then the group, first these are the ones from last year, June 2025:

And here are the pictures from this year, June 2026:

And 50 years ago (50 years!) this was our kindergarten picture, which included almost all of us:  

Even if not everyone was in this kindergarten picture, 5 of us were. Wow.  And the reunion included two others who had joined the group when we were in grade 1 and 5 respectively. Add in another of us from across the street that was just one year behind the rest, and even throw in a little sister, and a cousin that came and played on our street every summer, to round out our 2026 group beautifully.  😊 

My Feelings Are Hungry Today

Well, this explains the extra fatigue and the extra shortness of breath I have been experiencing throughout the spring.  Thank goodness those extra symptoms are less likely to be a worsening mitral valve regurgitation problem, and are instead being aggravated by my very low iron problem.  (As well as my low red blood cell count, hematocrit, and sodium, all flagged low, but I only took a picture of my ferritin—iron stores—for this post).  Because these days, it is so easy for me to jump to the conclusion that every chest twinge, stitch, flutter, and huff puff moment, is my heart.  Ug!

Everyday, I was taking my iron supplement with my lunch, and usually waiting at least 2 hours before my next cup of black tea (many teas being full of iron absorption blocking tannins).  This is because taking it in an empty stomach would upset my stomach.  Add in that I have slow gastric emptying due to hEDS, that has probably been partly why taking a ferrous gluconate supplement has not been helping me according to my recent blood tests.  What a waste of tablets!

My doctor has suggested simply taking it at night, (with a vitamin c source), but that I should also space it out away from when I take my progesterone, (which I am on as part of HRT to slow my bone loss), so I am giving it the best chance that nothing interferes with it.

I think I am becoming quite high maintenance to myself, lol.

I know it’s not my doctor’s job to be alarmed or concerned by my flagged low numbers.  Her job is to work the problem and suggest changes I can make that may help.  But ever since talking to her…I have been craving something.  Some unmet need now feels hungry, and I finally figured out what it is.  I feel unwell and vulnerable, and I guess I hoped she would step in with a guaranteed solution for me, like an iron infusion (but obviously, I am not unwell enough to need an infusion, despite feeling listless and lethargic at times).  Instead, it’s all up to me, myself, and I.  No one is coming to rescue me except me.  That is perfectly reasonable, but still left me hungry for someone to take care of me, because on a certain level I feel too fragile to take care of myself.  But I am not that fragile. I am still doing really well, (despite crappy iron levels).  

I am still quite healthy overall despite any and all of my health diagnoses.  I have to remind myself of that more often.  

I think I also felt that way when I saw my cardiologist at the end of March and discussed the changes between my 2 echocardiograms.  She was happy with the numbers, even though they were technically worse than they had been, so I was confused.  No alarm?  No upset?  No alarm, because I now realize that when a cardiologist or medical professional looks at my numbers, they see a heart with severe MR that is compensating exactly how it is supposed to.  Therefore, I was sent home with…nothing to do except continue doing what I am doing.  I really see now why I was left feeling…like no one is doing anything for me, I felt so alone!  I see clearly now that it’s my heart that is doing all the work here, (not the doctors).  And it’s entirely up to me to just continue to support my heart.  I feel a lot better today realizing what has been going on in my mind about this situation, and the subliminal assumption I had that anyone other than me needs to be doing anything about it.

That stops now. No one is coming to save me but me, and that is okay.  Even though I feel…vulnerable, at times, that is more about the past than the present.  This is the present.  I need to quit looking outside myself to have my needs met.  That is where I went wrong with the doctor.  I didn’t realize it prior to the phone call, but I was looking to her to fix it.  But no one can fix it (improve, but not “fix”) because it just is. And just like with most things, it’s up to me to fix what I can, and live my best life with the things that cannot be fixed.

All this “high maintenance” will be worth it if I feel better and getting my iron back up will take some of the additional pressure off my heart.  This was a disturbing realization, that anemia is even worse for someone with my issues, but I need to feel empowered to try and solve it because good chance this is actually something that is solvable!  And I am the one to solve it, not the doctor.  Fingers crossed.

“Your heart’s primary function is to deliver oxygen to tissues. With mitral valve regurgitation, your heart has to work harder because blood is leaking backward instead of moving forward into the body. When you are anemic, your blood’s capacity to carry oxygen is severely reduced. To compensate, your heart has to pump even faster and harder to deliver the same amount of oxygen to your organs. This puts extra, unnecessary stress on a damaged mitral valve and can accelerate the progression toward heart failure.”

My resting heart rate is up a bit in the last month from what is normal for me, and I want to see if I can get it back down.  😊 

It Helped Me to be Happy First, Lose Weight Second

Picture on the left, (also included on the “My Story” page): Revelstoke Dam tour, June 2023.  Picture on the right: Revelstoke Dam tour today, June 20, 2026.

This post is connected to my other post from one month ago today, that said, “You don’t have to lose weight to be happy, but it’s okay to be happy that you lost weight.”

I’ll go one step further: it truly helps if you are happy, so that you can lose weight.

Happy first, weight loss second.

I experienced this years ago, when I had a big weight loss in the year 2004.  I had to first get happy so that I could lose weight, not lose weight so that I could get happy.  It is really, really hard to hate yourself thin, because it’s such a negative place in which to be.  Long term sustainable healthy lifestyle changes can rarely be achieved by hating yourself.   I can speak from experience, loving yourself into a healthier body is way better.

When my husband took that picture of me in June of 2023, I was happy.  It was a beautiful sunny day, we had only lived nearby for 1 year, so we were still having fun playing tourist in our own new area, and I was genuinely loving life and happy to be spending the day with my husband.

I look in a full-length mirror everyday, so it’s not like I was shocked at the size of my thighs when I saw that picture.  (I’ve heard about people who stopped looking in mirrors and then get shocked when they see a picture of themselves, that is not me).  

But…

Because we decided to ride our motorcycle to Revelstoke for the dam tour, it’s about 40 minutes from where we live, I only had a few choices for pants that day that would fit me.  Even though I was relatively happy and content, I still wished all the clothes in my closet fit me, (at that time they did not).  And I had (finally) started to love myself at any size, but that day I still wished that I was more physically comfortable on the back of our motorcycle.

It was only a few weeks after that tour in 2023 when I really started to again pay attention to regular intentional exercise.  In fact, I am only one more week away from the hitting my 3-year streak on the RunKeeper app, which started just after that picture was taken.  And that summer, I started again consistently using the LoseIt app to keep track of what I eat.  I truly find I have to keep track, even after 3 consistent years, or it’s just too easy to see my weight start to creep up.

I love myself in both these photos.  But I feel better in the second photo.  My clothes fit, and I am very comfortable on the motorcycle seat, and getting on and off the bike. Yes, looking good is nice, but feeling good is even better.  So, you don’t have to lose weight to be happy, but it’s okay to be happy that you lost weight, especially if you feel better doing the things you love to do.

Messed Up Thoughts Around Food

A while ago on this blog post, I mentioned a comedy sketch done by Rosanne Barr I recalled from years ago.  I am now viewing what she said through a new lens.  Many 80’s moms were influenced (in part) by the diet culture in the greater North American society around them.  And they were influenced by their own mothers.  The result was many of them passed onto their daughters (and sons too) dysfunctional scripts around food. Yes, I have identified I have some messed up thoughts around food, which started with my mom giving me different foods (low calorie alternatives) than what she gave to my brother.  But I am done blaming her for the messages I created around that, that I was somehow less than, not good enough, or not worthy, or that I had to change myself (get thinner) to be worthy of love and approval.  

That was the story I just told myself.

But that is not the real story.

The real story is different, especially when I step back and look at with the benefit of different points of view.  The stories I assumed about others were far different than I thought.  Having some deep conversations with women this past weekend has taught me a lot.

Back to Roseanne Barr (I am paraphrasing from memory): “When you’re sad, fat moms are so much better than skinny moms—because do you want to know my advice?  Here, eat this whole cake, and when you wake up from your sugar coma, it will be a whole new week.”

I met a gal over this past weekend who went on binges with her mother just like Rosanne was suggesting.  Her mom specifically took her through drive-thrus or the store to buy her a bunch of treats.  But then her mother would turn around and pay for her to go to Weight Watchers, saying “Your dad says you’re getting fat.”  Upon hearing her story, I was heart broken on her behalf.  Her mother contributed to both sides of the equation.  First, by providing and encouraging her to eat excess foods.  And then second, by communicating to her she was not good enough just the way she was, basically confirming her dad’s opinion that she was “fat,” by then paying for her to go to Weight Watchers.

I have decided right now to stop complaining about my mother, and what she did (or did not do) for me in terms of my food consumption.

And it’s about time.

It’s not like I ever thought I had it so terrible, or worse than anyone else.  This blog is my story, my point of view, and I really only ever compared myself to myself.  So for me, I wish for my younger self that I had felt that I was on equal footing with my brother, as to whether or not I was lovable in my current form.  I wish my younger self had not thought that the different foods or different presents (chocolate for him, non-edible stuffed bunny toy for me) meant I had to change something about my body to be worthy of love.  Because that is just the story I told myself at the time.  

And now it’s finally time to change the story.

And because I usually go inward, comparing myself to myself, only knowing my own experience with my own mother, I had not thought about the other possible stories around food that other girls experienced with their mothers.  And I had not thought about their fathers either.  I knew they had a story, but it was easy to assume their story was similar to my story.  Thanks to some shared vulnerability over the weekend in a large group of women, I know that all our stories are wildly different, even if the very same struggle was the same.  We all grew up thinking we had to be constantly aware of our diet.

My dad never, to my knowledge, ever said anything about my weight.   My experience was he was a neutral party, completing unaware of whether or not I was eating anything different than my brother.  I don’t think he was monitoring my plate and what I ate at all.  And I until I heard this gal’s heartbreaking story this weekend, I had not imagined walking a mile in someone else’s shoes where the message coming from both her parents, (and a mixed messages at that with her mother providing and encouraging overconsumption), was that she needed to change her weight to be worthy and/or lovable.  Brutal.

I truly believe my mom only gave me diet foods and different gifts because of a simple truth: excess calories that we don’t otherwise burn off through our daily activity, will put excess weight on our bodies.  I believe my mom was body shamed when she was young.  First, she was body shamed for being too skinny, which in her experience in the 1950’s implied something shameful and negative, namely poverty.  Second, she was body shamed for an unplanned pregnancy, and told to not come back (from her exile) having gained any weight whatsoever, “You better not come back ever looking like you may have had a baby, because we are going to keep that a secret for the rest of your life!”  And then third, after marriage and two planned pregnancies, diet culture shamed her for not losing all the baby weight, and/or for “letting herself go” and becoming a frumpy housewife.  Thus, she joined her first Weight Watchers meeting, and started a cycle of yo-yo dieting, eventually achieving a lifetime membership, but never achieving peace around food or her body.

I believe when my mom tried to limit my calories, she was simply trying to spare me her own heart aches around her own body that she herself experienced.  She had no idea how I was internalizing the message.  And I don’t think she realized (nor did I) that I was in part being driven by undiagnosed Celiac disease, which drove a certain amount of the desire to overeat because of nutrient malabsorption.  I was overfed and undernourished, (and years later I have the resulting poor bone density to prove it).  All she could see was my desire to overfeed, which led her to try some gentle restricting.  She was never cruel, and instead provided all the low calorie substitutes I could want.  But I snuck the foods that I was not otherwise “allowed” to eat, and got pretty messed up in my thinking around food.  I was not naturally slender (like my brother), so with the extra foods I snuck, I gained weight.  And yes, my mom paid for me to go to Weight Watchers when I was 15 years old.  She was trying to help me learn how to shed the little bit of excess weight I could never seem to shake.

I have had a good amount of messed up thinking about food that I have written about on this blog.  But I have to face the truth.  At this stage of my life, none of my overeating to soothe emotions is my mom’s fault, or society’s fault, or even my fault, for that matter.  

Because it’s not about fault.  

It’s about choice.  

I have simply chosen to eat foods, at times, for the wrong reasons, and it has led to weight gain, and subsequent dieting to loss excess weight, a constant yo-yo that has to stop.  And I may still occasionally choose the wrong foods moving forward.  I am not perfect, or perfectly intentioned, with every single morsel I put in my mouth.  But I have decided right now to stop complaining about my mother, and what she did (or did not do) for me in terms of my food consumption.

And it’s about time.

Another gal, a childhood friend I’ve known my whole life, who was naturally slender and so was her mom, shared her experience also.  I never knew her mom projected onto her a whole bunch of different messed up thoughts around foods.  Sure, she never outwardly had a “weight problem,” but that was because she was constantly monitored and denied her own share of treats.  She was expected to be the “perfect” daughter, and perfect daughters never gain weight in the first place.  She said she was the only girl in her dorm at university who was sent there with a bathroom scale, so that she could closely monitor herself to ensure she did NOT gain the “Freshman 15.”  She said word got around she had a scale, and random girls (no doubt with their own forms of disordered eating) would come and knock on her door and ask if they could come in and weigh themselves.

When I heard that, my heart broke for her too.  Broke for anybody who ever thought they were not good enough the way they were, or that they were only good enough just as long as they never changed.  An impossible standard on both fronts.

I have decided right now to stop complaining about my mother, and what she did (or did not do) for me in terms of my food consumption.

And it’s about time.

Upcoming Reunion and Communication Struggles

I really like how this explains some of my experiences when I communicate with family and friends in a way that has often felt, entirely from my point of view, unbalanced or unreciprocated.  I have walked away from these encounters chastising myself for being so needy, for always seeking validation, and for expecting so much from others in a simple exchange of conversation.  The result is I end up feeling awkward and rejected and stupid for wanting something that I have not been able to communicate and then receive.

I am writing about this to give myself permission to not be so hard on myself.  And to not be hard on others either.  Some people cannot do deep, not because they don’t care, but because depth overwhelms them.

I suppose that is why I have turned to this blog in the last year to talk to the internet, but really, to talk to myself.  To go deep with myself where I need to go deep.  To validate myself.  

I used to just stuff down all these feelings and unmet needs with food.  It remains to be a struggle to not go back to that old maladaptive coping skill.

I have really appreciated this blog space to explore topics on a deep level where I meet myself, rather than expecting others to somehow read my mind and know what I am searching for, so they can meet me where I want them to meet me.

I don’t know whether this type of processing (which I have done my whole life) constitutes being on the Autism spectrum.  But I have certainly struggled to maintain relationships, struggled with almost every conversation I have, and wondered if I could simply blame ASD, (which is higher in the hEDS population than in the regular population).  This struggle for me is very internal, and in the last few years without using food to stuff down my bad feelings, I find myself just wanting to have less and less conversations.  

Next weekend I am attending my second annual kindergarten class reunion.  Yes, kindergarten.  Well, almost all of us were in the same kindergarten class, so that’s what I call it.  Our hometown had an upper land area called “the bench” that was subdivided into residential houses only, (no commercial businesses), with one elementary school up there that was kindergarten through grade 7, all in one school.  We all lived on the bench within 3 blocks of one another, and we all went to that school.  Almost all of us (except one whose family emigrated to Australia) ended up going through high school together also, and graduated together.  It was pretty special to graduate with almost the exact same gals who you went to kindergarten with.  Our reunion was basically only 1 day last year (with a few out of town guests staying a few extra nights), and this year it’s going to be 3 days.  Even though I am local to where we are having the reunion, I am staying over for a night also, as to not miss out on the sleepover aspect.  Wow, I am 55-years old and I get to go to a sleepover with these gals, just like when we were kids!  I can’t wait!

But I am also dreading it.

Because it means I am going to have to talk to people, for a whole weekend.

I have already imagined a few scenarios where I fake an illness and cancel last minute.  But I don’t really want to cancel.  Truthfully, one of the only reasons why I won’t cancel is to ensure I get to be in all the pictures, and get copies shared to me of all the photos.  Omg, you know me and how I love to take a perfect picture (that I wrote about here).

So, I will go, but I know that I just have to try and relax and lesson my expectations.  And forgive myself for how I may struggle with how I communicate.  And then try not to agonize too much about it for weeks afterwards. (This list is me, except for 4. Instead of going quiet, I talk too much and overshare, and then I really spend a lot of time with number 7).

The Definition of Looking Good

I came across this the other day, and it made me laugh. And, of course, then I wanted to do a deep dive into what it means to me to “look good.”

First of all, for me, defining any phrase is entirely individual, subjective, and can come with multiple meanings. It is far too easy these days to jump to a conclusion when someone says anything, really, unless we constantly keep ourselves in check by remembering we only know our own meaning, not someone else’s meaning. (Unless we ask them, and then they tell us their particular, individual, and specific meaning).

So, I’ll tell you my meaning.

Right now, I still care to “look good” in photos. And I have posed for wonderful photos at all my weights, up and down the scale, (that I wrote about here, never requiring before hand that I weighed a “perfect weight,” or I would have missed out on getting the photo taken). I think a person can “look good” in a photo at any size. But looking good in a scan or x-ray, for me, is the desire to get the all clear that things “look good” medically.

In the last 12 months, I pretty much have had more experience with this than I had had in my entire life prior.

June 2025 = DexaScan. Interestingly, my mom had a different aesthetic in mind when she commented my bone scan skeleton picture was “not very flattering.” Omg, I can’t even make this up, yes, she said that. On one hand, sure, she was “sort of” joking. On the other hand, she really was sizing up the spread of my hips in the picture.

I am assuming my hips were what she was looking at, because that was the body part that shows as somewhat skewed in the picture. This DexaScan skeleton picture is broken up into sections. which skews how it looks compared to my other DexaScan picture taken at the same time. But my hips were what my mom always pointed out to me as a kid. If I had just been “slim-hipped,” like her growing up, instead of having “saddlebags like my grandmother,” then maybe I wouldn’t have been given sugar twin and diet yogurt and denied chocolate at Easter. Yes, once puberty hit, my older brother’s gift was still chocolate, in fact, 50 Cadbury Easter Cream eggs. But my gift was a Gund stuffed bunny, no chocolate allowed for me. I still loved the stuffed bunny, by the way, but being treated differently than my brother based on my body shape and weight took an emotional toll that I am finally allowing myself to grieve and process, (still a work in progress, because I can clearly see from the photo below—1984, I am 13 years old—that there was absolutely nothing “wrong” with me at that age, but I interpreted the messages I was receiving that there was something wrong with me, and back then had even added a “fun” sticker to the picture in my old album).

August 2025=Echocardiogram. The ultrasound technologist said, “Your heart is very photogenic,” (which struck me, as it reminded me of what my mom had said about my Dexa). So, I asked her, what makes it photogenic? She said something along the lines of not being barrel chested helped, and having gaps between my ribs, allowing the ultrasound probe to send and receive sound waves without bone obstruction, which eliminated dark shadows. And a thinner chest wall and less tissue between the skin and the heart meant better ultrasound penetration, resulting in sharper image resolution. Cool.

October 2025=Bone Density Scan. Anyhow, short story long, I do care about “looking good” medically. And I suppose with purple (cyanotic?) fingers on the Dexa, which led to the investigation and diagnosis of hEDS…And then the Echo, which led to a diagnosis of Mitral Valve Heart Disease…And then questionable bone density numbers on the Dexa, which led to a medically diagnostic bone density scan and a diagnosis of osteoporosis…I just feel that my overall spirit took a hit with so many “not looking good” results. And truthfully, my repeat echo at the end of February was the worst yet, because it meant my situation is progressive, not stable like I was hoping for prior to that first repeat scan for comparison. I don’t worry about it all day, every day, but I do worry my next echo in November won’t be “looking good” either.

Speaking of repeat scans, I have my first repeat Dexa June 10. Yes, I seem like a glutton for punishment, but this is my first chance to have an opportunity to compare to my last year’s scan, (the scan that started it all).

But I must not let NOT “looking good” in this next Dexa, (and I mean medically, not aesthetically, like what my mom looked at, lol), bring me down in any way. I worked hard this last year no matter what the scan says. Even if nothing is better, had I thrown in the towel, it would have been worse. Like my French grade that I wrote about here, even if I get a B minus instead of an A, I know in my heart that I have still given this health journey my best effort, and plan to continue.

Great Photos at Any Size

My husband and I just celebrated our 35th Wedding Anniversary. Once you get up in these numbers, in my opinion, every 5 years are the big ones to celebrate. And we have managed to get a great photo for each of these years to celebrate.

And I have not always been the weight I wanted to be prior to the anniversary. I was a yo-yo dieter, so if I waited to be a “perfect” weight for every picture we took, I wouldn’t have this wonderful selection of photos. Yes, in the past, I have dressed up for a fancy picture, and then wished I had weighed less. But I could always admit I still “looked good” in a photo when it was true, regardless of my weight at the time. In fact, on the “My Story” page of this blog, in my very first entry down at the bottom from 2019, I wrote about taking pictures that year for Mother’s Day at a higher weight, and still saying, “I know that the pictures are very good and I look really good.”

One thing I really love is comparison photos, of any kind. So many times (not always) I decide ahead of time on a particular pose that would be able to compare to another photo.

For our 20th anniversary, we managed to time our trip with our travel trailer, driving from Kelowna, British Columbia, down to Mount St. Helens, Washington, and arrived there precisely on the anniversary of the eruption, May 18. That was the wedding date I had picked out after the eruption in 1980. For some reason, my 9 year old (at the time of the eruption in 1980) brain held on to that date, and I thought it would make a great wedding date. I used to joke: I had the date picked out before I had the guy picked out.

Our 20th=On May 18, 2011, I was at a higher weight, and who cares. I love this picture. I think I “look good,” we look good, I wouldn’t change a thing. What a trip, what timing we managed to have, thank you to the stranger, the other traveler, who offered to take our picture for us with our camera. Looking good standing in front of Mount St. Helens had nothing to do with my weight.

Our 25th=On May 18, 2016, my husband came home rocking a pretty savage hair cut, (think Timothée Chalamet in Dune Part 3), but we went out and did these photos with our sports car, so I could have a fabulous comparison photo.

Our 30th=on May 18, 2021, my yo-yo dieting continued, so I was up in weight from 5 years previously, but that is just how it was going at the time. Who cares, we took the picture anyway, and I am so happy we did. Remember these moments, live life to the fullest!

Our 35th=On May 18, 2026, we used our drone to hover in front of us and took this picture up on the back slope of our property, (which gives us a lovely view of the mountains, when we walk up there). Fun fact: for our 35th, I am wearing the same high healed sandal shoes as I was wearing on our 25th.

So, 20th, 25th, 30th, 35th, = my weight was up, down, up, and then down again. This is just the roller coaster of life, and I am happy to have wonderful pictures for each and every moment of it.

Living in the Future Instead of in the Present

Saturday, May 9, a better day and nice ride on the motorcycle, in the middle of a lot of crappy days.

Here we go again.  I haven’t been feeling well physically, lots of painful bloating, for one.  And so I started living in the future again.  For example, “When I feel better [at an unknowable future time] I will do such and such.”  And then entered into my mind my good old stand by: “When I get thin…then I’ll do such and such…”

Yes, I still do that in my head, prefacing future plans with “When I get thin…”And then I remind myself that firstly “thin” is an abstraction, because I can call myself “thin” right now, only if I choose to.  But I must NOT want to call myself (in my head) thin, because then I would lose my excuse for not living in the here and now, and instead thinking of some unknowable future time when things will be “better.”

Of course, that means it is NOT actually be about being thin at all.  What I really mean is when I get to be something I am not right now…then I won’t feel these bad feelings about myself anymore.  Those feelings are ones that I allow to hold myself back from living my life.  

I know all this wallowing in pity is not healthy.  And it’s not very productive either.  I am almost embarrassed to admit I am being like this.  Physical symptoms aside, I can still choose my thoughts, and I am not choosing wisely, I am simply falling backwards.

And I am embarrassed to admit it.  And that feeling is fueling even more negative thoughts.

For me, shame and embarrassment seemed to be conflated.

On my April 7 blog I wrote, “For some reason, doing the same old same old, day in and day out, feels like inaction, instead of action.”

That sentence has stuck with me ever since.  Especially now when the same old same old seems to be achieving different results.

I re-read a quote the other day about shame.  It came from a former blogger, (but her blog is no longer on the internet).  Shame about regained weight may have actually stopped her from continuing her blog.  Regain is difficult because it involves feeling like you have failed (embarrassment, shame) because you reached a certain level of specifically defined success, only to then find that “success” slipping away as the numbers on the scale climb.  

Myself, I have been experiencing digestive problems.  I haven’t been doing anything “wrong” that I am aware of, but my body is not staying in homeostasis.  And trying to “right the ship,” so to speak, feels like such a struggle.  It feels just like times when I have regained weight.

Of course, the numbers on the scale having been going up too, along with the bloating and chronic constipation.  I have been ending up in physical pain, dealing with vertigo migraines (and new to me ocular migraines), just as if I overate something that will trigger my immune system (for me specifically—gluten, grains, chemical food additives, emulsifiers), even though I think I ate everything “right.”  And the scale number just adds insult to injury.

It makes me want to chunk in the towel and simply give up trying.  Why forgo any foods, if the end result is that I am miserable and bloated anyway?

“Shame underlies self-destructive behaviors:

-Hidden shame often drives self-destructive behaviors and other psychological

symptoms such as rage, avoidance, or addictions.

-Self-destructive behaviors often are an attempt to regulate overpowering, painful

feelings but lead to more shame, propelling the self-destructive cycle.

-Secrecy, silence, and out-of-control behaviors fuel shame.

-Shame makes people want to hide and disappear, reinforcing shame.

-Shame is created in children through scolding, judging, criticizing, abandonment.”

But I also read something else:

“You don’t control people.
You don’t control outcomes.
You barely control your day half the time.

But what you do control is how you interpret what’s happening… and what you choose to do next.

Your attitude is the filter.

If you want to change your life, it begins with changing one thing:

Your attitude.”

Ug!  It’s so true.  But it is one of those tough truths I have to face.  My attitude lately has been a big problem.  And all these recent physical symptoms are conflated with past eating behaviour that resulted in these same physical symptoms.  Even though my eating behaviour is different now, (dare I say “better”), the result seems to be the same—physical pain, discomfort, and climbing scale numbers.  So, what’s the point in continuing to try?

Is Your Nutrition Advice Clear As Mud? 

“Eat vegetarian… no, meat is good for you.”⁣⁣⁣

“Eat carnivore … no, you need vegetables and fiber.”⁣⁣⁣

“Eat fibre… no, it feeds SIBO.”⁣⁣⁣

“Eat low FODMAP… no, it starves your microbiome.”⁣⁣⁣

“Eat nuts & seeds… no, fat and phytic acid are bad.”⁣⁣⁣

“Eat fruit… no, citrus and salicylates are bad for eczema.”⁣⁣⁣

“Eat fermented foods… no, histamine is bad.”⁣⁣⁣

The things that have worked in the past are simply not working…this week.  But maybe next week whatever has got my system off kilter will clear out, and the ship will have righted itself?

Only time will tell.  In the meantime, I have to NOT self-destruct.

I know I Shouldn’t Care So Much

Apparently, there are 7 stages of grief.  They have added in the initial shock as the first stage.  You have to first find out about it (whatever it is that will cause the grief), before you can be in denial about it.  And they have also added in processing the grief, as the last stage.  Because after acceptance, you need to process it.

7. Processing grief

“There is no right or wrong way to grieve – the process is highly individual. In addition, there’s no quick fix; the healing process takes time and varies from person to person. Importantly, there is no “normal” timeframe, so be patient with yourself.

Suggested strategies:

  • Express your grief in words or another creative outlet, such as painting or drawing.
  • Connect with others – this can be loved ones or community support groups.
  • Ask for help, in whatever form.
  • Practise deep breathing regularly.
  • Set small, realistic goals.
  • Ensure you’re getting enough sleep and aim for some form of movement each day.
  • Eat a healthy, balanced diet and keep hydrated.
  • Rehearse how you respond to questions and new situations.”

Me?  Because my grief involves a failure of my body, (life limiting failure of my mitral valve requiring open heart surgery to repair or replace—which is still not an easy or quick fix), part of me is hyper-fixating on my body.  And I am obviously hyper-fixated on writing about my body.  Sorry, lots of “wash, rinse, repeat” in my posts lately.

But who really cares about my body?  Well, I care.  Maybe too much, but it is part of how I am processing my grief over changes in my body’s health.  But what other people think about my body?  I don’t really care what other people think, at least not anymore, not like when we are young and we worry about what our friends think of us, (socialized mind stage of adult development).

I’m in my mid-fifties now, and I work hard on my health daily, (even though that is somewhat reluctantly, of late, because of negative thoughts, but I am still working on it anyway).  So I really don’t care what someone else thinks about my body, only what I think.

I care—just for me, myself, and I, and that helps encourage me to still take care of my body daily.  Sticking to a daily healthy plan.

I still have all the diet culture scripts I grew up with.  The ones that said thinner is better, nothing tastes as good as thin feels, a moment on the lips is a lifetime on the hips, etc.  AND the perfectly toned bodies of women I grew up with in magazines, on TV, and in film still have their imprint on me.  Growing up, those were bodies I didn’t seem to match, because I had…cellulite…even as a teenager.  And now, thanks to aging, I have wrinkles.  And, thanks to weight instability (losing and regaining hundreds of pounds, literally,) I have shrinkles.  And I care, maybe more than I should, about how I look when my husband takes a picture of me.  I am not going to lie here on my blog, and say that I don’t care about how I look, especially in a picture that is a visual reminder for a memory of a moment or event.

I don’t care what other people think about how I look…but yeah, I care, for me, myself, and I, (and for the picture), about how I look, for myself.

But!  Thanks to about 2.5 years of weight stability and daily walking, I am less…embarrassed (in how I self-judge)…about wearing mid thigh shorts.  And again, I wasn’t embarrassed because I worried about what other people would think about the uneven texture of my thighs.  I was embarrassed because of what I thought about the uneven texture of my thighs.  Frankly, I saw it as a reminder of how I had not taken care of myself, my health.  I would even feel painful pangs of regret when I looked at a photo that highlighted something like wrinkled and shrinkled thighs.

In fact, knowing I will regret it all over again if I do NOT take care of myself moving forward, is sometimes the ONLY thing stopping me from turning to overconsumption of a large amount of food (sugar, my favorite) to numb my emotions.  Fear of regret is powerful for me.  I have been taking care of myself better than constant over-consuming for almost 3 years now.  And for me, that is huge, having never managed it for such a long stretch of time before now.

My husband took the picture of me on the left on May 12, 2024.  And I was embarrassed 😳.  From my point of view, my thighs were really wrinkled and shrinkled from my 70 pound weight loss, which reminded me I had not been taking care of myself when I gained that weight (over and over again).  

The picture on the right is from April 25, 2026, and my 2.5 years of regular walking, weight loss, and then weight stability has made some definite improvement.  So, it still doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.  What matters is what I think, and I can see positive results.  That gives me less regret about the past, and helps me stay in the present and leave the past behind me.  The future is also uncertain, health wise, so it is more important than ever to stay in the present moment.

And it does not matter if it’s all down hill from here (realistically, I am not getting any younger, lol), because I am proud of the hard work I have put in to maintain my weight right now, and that I prioritize daily movement.  I am reminding myself there was/is a real important reason every day to forego overconsumption of food to momentarily soothe my emotions, and instead to do the best I can with my health, (regardless of outcomes that are beyond my control).  Even if it does not rise to the power to make some of my health issues disappear, NOT making my health worse is still power I do have.

And honestly, focusing on wrinkles and shrinkles is a wonderful distraction from thinking about my heart adaptively remodeling itself while it fights with my prolapsed mitral valve leaflets.  And this is accountability for me also.  How can I post about prioritizing my health despite wanting to chuck in the towel, if I then don’t follow through? If I say here that I am going to stick to the healthy plan, and NOT fall into a pound of sugary foods that will increase my heart rate and blood pressure, then, well, I guess I have to stick the healthy plan.

Well, I Did Not See This Coming


April 19, 2026 – Gorge Creek Trail.

This is another blog post I am writing mostly just for me.  I need to say these things out loud, write them down, put them out there.  

I am really struggling.

As this is my very first time in LONG term weight maintenance, I think it is really good that I have created this blog.  Because it is so easy to forget where I was at just 2 years ago, and what I was learning about myself, and hopefully remembering that now will help me.

I went looking for an old blog entry from 2 years ago, because we had gone hiking to Gorge Creek (with 4 waterfalls) around this same time in April, and I remembered taking a picture there and using it in a post.  I simply wanted to know what exact date in the spring that was, because I want to go hiking there again.  (Turns out, the hike I was thinking of was on April 20, 2024, and I posted the picture on my May 1, 2024, post).

It was a struggle to plan to hike there again, and then follow through, just like I had to “make” myself go skating on Wednesday.  But like Wednesday, I was so glad we went and did the same Gorge Creek hike we did exactly 2 years ago.  I wasn’t sure my body would think it was the “same” hike as 2 years ago, because it feels like so much has changed with what I know about my health since then.  But I am still me, and it was not a strenuous trail then or now, or I would not have planned to do it at all.  (My husband and I did a very strenuous hike in 2021, long before I knew I had a heart valve problem, and we decided right after that hike we would NEVER attempt that one ever again, and we won’t.  Eagle Pass Lookout, you are one and done!  Gorge Creek I could do every single day).

It really helped to revisit that same place, and take a similar picture, to remind myself = I am still me.

But, when I went looking for that 2 year old photo, I ended up reading my blog entry from May 25, 2024, and a few lines I wrote back then really struck me today.  This one:

“I don’t think I was necessarily taught to hate myself, but I have spent a lot of my life disliking lots of parts of myself anyway.”

And this one:

“And I realize, almost as though it is all of a sudden, those feelings are just gone right now.”

Well…that self-hated is back.  I did not anticipate that.  

Even though back in 2024, I did not know why those feelings were gone, their absence has really helped me in the last 2 years not go back to overeating to smooth the jagged edges of my emotions.  However, I think (I know) they are back right now because of this line I wrote 2 years go:

“It [self-hated] enabled me to do self-destructive things like not take care of myself.”

Part of me, right now, is tired of taking care of myself…because taking care of myself didn’t stop what has happened to my heart valve, so what’s the point?  So, if I hate myself again, then I can give up on myself.  I am literally looking for an excuse to self-destruct.

Wow.  

I know that sounds so stupid, let alone self-destructive.  I have also written about being deliberately self-destructive before.  It’s an awful thing some of us have done to ourselves.  When we hurt, we go inward and hurt ourselves even more, even hurting ourselves physically.  Sometimes it helps to hurt physically to match how much it hurts mentally.  I have hurt myself in the past in this way, with terrible food choices that cause painful reactions, overeating that cause physical discomfort, and of course, the resulting weight gain that cause both physical and emotional pain.

Wow.

Of course, I KNOW that instead of self-destructing, I must just control what I can, and let go of what I can’t.  What I can control?  I can stay healthy and steady with planning what I eat and eating what I plan, and not speed up progression of my heart valve failing.  BUT, what I can’t control?  I can’t slow down the progression of my heart valve failing either.

And that is where I keep getting stuck.

So, I have to be honest, I am really struggling.  And only I can validate myself in this struggle, right here, right now, on this blog.  Therefore, this is another blog post I am writing just for me.  I need to stay it all out loud, write it down, and put it out there.  I am really struggling.

And my good old friend self-hated wants to step up to the plate (no pun intended) and help me out (but NOT really help, obviously) by leading me down the path to ultimately painful overeating.  I can hear a vintage Roseanne Barr comedy act in my head, (I am paraphrasing from memory): “When you’re sad, fat moms are so much better than skinny moms—because do you want to know my advice?  Here, eat this whole cake, and when you wake up from your sugar coma, it will be a whole new week.”  😊 

But I know that eating a whole cake is not going to work in the long run to smooth the emotional jagged edges I am dealing with, they always come right back.  And tanking my health right now (heavy overeating WILL raise my heart rate and blood pressure=fact) could instead truly hurt me, so I just have to just NOT do it.