What She Said

I wish I could have had everybody at my wedding who wanted to go. It was a really good time and from Alex and myself I would like to extend a heartfelt thank you to everyone who was with us, both in person and in spirit, on our special day. I had the vows and speech prepared for months, but for the speech I went a little off book. All the same, I like what I put together. Enjoy!

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Vows:

Alexander, I commit myself and all that I am and all that I have to you today. I want to be your wife because you make me my best self. I want to be your wife because you like working with me to improve our lives. I want to be your wife because I want you to be the father of our children. As your wife, I vow to always be your support. As your wife, I vow to help you when you struggle to help yourself. As your wife, I promise to honor you and remain loyal even when the times come when it’s difficult to do that. I vow these things because you deserve these things, and I know you will give them to me in equal measure. You give me hope. You give me laughter. You give me support. You give me dreams. You give me your loyalty. You give me strength. I vow to give these back to you because you deserve it, and I’m happy to say that I deserve you. I am honored to be your wife.

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Speech:

I want to thank you all for being here. It means so much to me that you would all come to celebrate my marriage to my best friend, my partner, my perfect match. I feel so much love here today and it’s so special. I want to take this time to acknowledge my partner of five years, Alexander Deerkop. A lot of you might not know our full story, and I thought now would be a good time to share it. I went to Syracuse University for six years, four for undergrad in psychology and two for master’s in marriage and family therapy. Between undergraduate and grad school there was obviously a mass exodus of friends. I was feeling really alone and bored, so I signed up for a dating website. I don’t expect you guys to believe me, but I didn’t intend on actually finding anybody and I wasn’t ready for commitment as I was committing to a two-year graduate program and didn’t know where I’d be after that. Actually, I have a lot of commitment issues and if it wasn’t for Alex, well… let’s just say I’m really glad I met him. Anyway, I just wanted to hang out with some people and be social, and up to that point I had always been able to form friendships with guys faster than with girls. I’d been a tomboy since I started developing at a young age and a lot of that remained. Anyway, I went on a couple of dates and obviously they were duds. Imagine that! A bunch of guys looking for relationships or hookups not making good friends? Anyway, it wasn’t long before I started talking to a guy with the screenname xcountryguy. I would later find out it was cross-country guy, but I was a little apprehensive. I’m not into country music, I’m not into the country lifestyle, and I am not a country girl. Still, he wrote a very interesting and grammatically correct introduction message to me. I can’t tell you how important the latter was. I wish I had the foresight to save it, because from my recollection it was a bit self-deprecating, like he was setting himself up to be rejected right off the bat. We hit it off, sending messages back and forth for a few months, graduating to texting. I didn’t know it at the time, but Alex never had occasion to text message people often and he had to upgrade his plan when we started talking. I think around that time we also started Skyping. He was living in Oswego, 45 minutes away from Syracuse while I was going to school, and so there was relatively little opportunity to meet up between classes, internships, and work until one day Syracuse University was hosting a Native American author, Leslie Marmon Silko. I was a big fan – surprise, I’m a big dork. Anyway, I specifically took the evening off to go to this event and Alex saw an opportunity so he extended himself and came to Syracuse to grab Indian food with me. I distinctly remember him acting like he was really into this lecture even though he’d never heard of the woman and that he was all about having Indian food for dinner although he had little experience with ethnic foods at all. He sat through what must have been a very boring lecture for him while I sat there with no less than half a dozen books that I hauled with me when I rushed out of the lecture hall to be the first in line for her autograph. Man, I was such a big dork. We had great conversation at Samrat’s that night. He was very open and frank and most importantly, intelligent. I think I decided a second date was in order when he used the word “amalgamation” over dinner. Alex left that night with a hug and I thought to myself, “If this guy still wants to see me after this, I’ll give him a honest shot.” Alex ended up getting one of his frequent sinus infections for a month after this date, but we were in contact the whole time, getting to know each other better. For our second date, I thought it was only fair for me to go to Oswego and see him. He had everything set up so thoughtfully. He rented my favorite movie, which was The Fifth Element – or Die Hard In Space. He cleaned up as much as he could to present his house in its best light. We cuddled on his futon and had a really nice time and then we started kissing. I ended up staying the night. Alex was a perfect gentleman, and he told me he admired me. In the morning, he saw me to the door and before I left he asked me not if I would be his girlfriend, but if we could he Facebook official. I guess that was a sign of the times. I’m so glad I said yes. We fell in love so quickly. Like I said, I wasn’t looking for a commitment when I set out on this journey, so I got scared at times, but we always worked through the tough times and there were plenty while I was working through grad school. Later when I asked Alex how he could have been so perfect for me during that time he said, “I just treated you the way I would want to be treated” and I thought that was beautiful. I remember the moment I really fell in love with him. We were still getting to know each other early on and I knew through his dating profile that he wanted to have children, which I thought was odd. I asked him why he wanted to have children and he said, “I just think it’s the best thing I could do for the world, raise good people to leave behind.” That was so perfect and I fell so hard. He knew it, too. I was still scared of what I felt for him, so I didn’t say it, and we were cuddling one night when he looked into my eyes and said, “Is there something you want to tell me?” I knew exactly what he was talking about, and I knew he felt it, too, but I was so freaked out. I said, “nope.” He just smiled and said, “Fine, I’ll say it first. I love you.” I must’ve turned so red in that moment. I remember covering my face with my hands before I looked at him and said, “I love you, too.” It wasn’t long before we were cuddled in bed again and he said, “Marry me.” Without thinking, I answered, “Okay.” Then after a moment I was like, “Wait, seriously?” and he said, “Yeah.” I was like, “Oh, I’m sorry! I thought you were joking. There was no ring and it was so random.” Alex thought about it for a minute and said, “Oh. Okay, I take it back.” And I’m like, “What do you mean you take it back?” Alex said, “I want to get you a ring. You deserve a ring.” So, it was like this little secret between us for a while. We shopped for rings and told ourselves we would do that “eventually.” We even set an ideal wedding date, which is today, September 26, 2015, exactly five years after the date Alex asked me to be Facebook official. Now, the way he gave me the ring is pretty sweet too. He knew I was a big fan of The Office and he knew the one scene that gets me crying every time is Jim & Pam’s wedding when they sneak away to get married on the Maid of the Mist. Seriously, it gets me every time. Anyway, I’m like a big kid, so we’re on the Maid of the Mist and I’m freaking out because I love it and I’m running around the boat, getting misted, laughing, taking pictures, when all of a sudden he taps me on the shoulder and says, “I got something for you” and there’s the ring in his hand. I must’ve screamed, I don’t remember. I know I laughed. I was so happy. I couldn’t be happier. We’ve imagined this day together. We worked hard together to have an opportunity to share our love with you. Thank you so much for being here and giving us that opportunity. I beg of each and every one of you to help us going forward. When times get tough, as they surely will, please help us find each other again, because I love this man and I intend on having his friendship for a lifetime. Alex, there is no one else I would rather be spending this day with. There is no one else I would want to be the father of my future children. I would’ve married you a long time ago, but we’re here now. I love you, baby. Once again, thank you everyone. Have a good time!

Happiness

So, the appetite suppressant medications weren't working. I switched to an amphetamine-adjacent medication and that didn't work either. This coincided with a serious dip in my mood and motivation. I found myself going directly to bed after I came home from work every night, spending hours on my laptop playing a lot of Civ V, eating like crazy, and not engaging with my fiance. He noticed, and it upset him, but he felt powerless to change anything and quite honestly so did I. "I don't have depression," I kept telling myself, "because depressed people can't get up and go to work and put on a brave face and run a 9.3 mile race and train faithfully before that and socialize with their friends. Depressed people don't do those things." What a load, especially coming from a therapist.

I wasn't eating because my appetite was out of control. I was eating because it was something to do. I was eating because I was depressed. It was finally too much. I googled "depression screening" and went to a government website for mental health, answered a few simply questions, and boom, "Severe Depression." I cried. I cried for a lot of reasons. How did I let it get this bad? How did I let it go on for this long? I'm supposed to know better. It also felt like a death sentence. Oh, I'm depressed. My brain is sick. I'm going to be this way for the rest of my life and there's nothing I can do about that. When I picked up the phone to make the appointment with my doctor I was sobbing uncontrollably, but I felt better afterwards. I had a plan. I made an individual appointment with our couples' therapist. I talked to Alex.

The next day I broke down at work and my co-worker and my supervisor both noticed. My supervisor sat with me and had me meditate and breathe in essential oils. That helped. I drank water and ate a salad and went for a walk. On Saturday I tried my best to be excited to be at the Renaissance Fair with my friends. I happened to think I was very good at faking it. I'd been doing it for so long, but sitting where I am right now I can tell you I was miserable and that had nothing to do with my friends. Still, I powered through and had a nice day but by the time I got back home I crashed and did the thing where I holed up in my room and played Civ V for hours on end.

When Alex came to bed he was clearly agitated, restless. I asked him if everything was alright and he said he was itchy. I knew he was lying, but I was tired. He got up and left the bedroom, which isn't unusual when he can't get to sleep. By the time I woke up at 6 the next morning, I realized he still wasn't in bed. I went downstairs and found him on the futon. My heart dropped. He has never, in the almost 5 years of our relationship, slept on the couch. I asked him what was wrong. He sleepily told me he was agitated last night. There had been some miscommunication that day between us and it made him mad and he's not very good at expressing his needs or feelings. I was hurt and furious. I told him to go back to sleep and I went upstairs and tried to do the same, but I didn't. I tossed and turned for an hour, then went downstairs and sat on the couch and said those dreaded words, "We need to talk."

We needed to talk because our communication suffered because both of our brains are sick. We needed to talk because it was time for things to change and start feeling better. We needed to talk because for that hour I was in bed tossing and turning I was thinking about who I could stay with that week because I didn't want to stay in the house. I was that furious. We needed to talk because I wanted to call off the wedding. I was that hurt. We had a long, hard talk about the way things have been going. We both cried, and Alex doesn't cry very often. In the end, we had an action plan. As a mental health professional I know that any mental health problem must be tackled on three fronts: medication, talk therapy, and lifestyle changes. I had the appointments for the first two, so we addressed the last one.

First, no electronics in the bedroom. This cuts down on my isolating habits. Second, prioritize chores and fitness. These are important to our life and health. Third, communication. Do it more. Do it better. We got planners and committed to checking in every Sunday night about the following week so we can work as a team. By Monday I had a prescription for Lexapro. By Tuesday I had seen my therapist. Now, things are going really well.

What's most interesting to me in this whole process is how I'm experiencing life right now. I'd heard that depressed people often aren't aware that they're depressed for long periods of time because they lack perspective on what happiness truly is. I now understand that. I don't know if it's the medication or therapy or lifestyle changes or just placebo effect, but I feel really happy lately - really and truly happy. Like, I didn't know you could be this happy naturally. Like, it feels almost like I imagine feeling high does (I've never done any drugs). Is this what happy people feel like? I'm motivated. I smile for no reason. There's an excitement in my voice instead of an urgency or desperation. I've found true happiness.

What's next? What will I experience as I go forward? Probably some good and some bad, but I'm so happy about the way things have turned out so far.

Pretty Young Destructive Unloved Girls

Try to understand my damage.

***

She's just a kid who misses her daddy. They were so close and she can't understand what she did to make him go away, but she's sure it's her fault. Mommy is getting drunk and angry. When the kid messes up, she pays for it dearly. Black and blue and choking back tears because if she cries again, the beatings will never stop. She's pretty sure mommy will kill her. She's that angry. She hears, "You're worthless" and "You're a burden" but she never hears "I love you." She grows up angry because anger means power. She drives away every friend she has with lies about other horrible things that happened to her because somehow that's better than the nightmarish truth of her life.

But, she's pretty. She's just pretty enough. And charming. She's just charming enough. People flock to her and it's close enough to love. Predators feed on her and it's close enough to love. She drinks and takes risks and buys things and binge eats because it's close enough to love - the closest she's ever going to get. Because everyone leaves and she can't really be loved, not for long.

***

She's just a kid who misses her mommy. They were so close and she can't understand why she chose the drugs that killed her over the daughter who loved her, but she's sure it's her fault. Daddy lost another little girl and he's hurting. When the kid messes up, she's thrown away. Hungry and lost and nowhere to go because her family spits venom when they talk about "niggers." She's pretty sure they hate her mixed skin, too. She hears, "You're worthless" and "You're a burden" but she never hears, "I love you." She grows up angry because anger means strength. She drives away everyone who tries to help her because they'll just leave, too.

But, she's pretty. She's just pretty enough. And charming. She's just charming enough. People flock to her and it's close enough to love. Predators feed on her and it's close enough to love. She drinks and gets high and prostitutes herself because it's close enough to love - the closest she's ever going to get. Because everyone leaves and she can't really be loved, not for long.

***

She's just a kid who misses her daddy. They were so close and she can't understand why he chooses drugs over being in her life, but she's sure it's her fault. Mommy gets a new boyfriend and he doesn't like the kid. He beats her bloody and someone notices so she's sent to daddy. Daddy's girlfriend hates her and sends her to her ex who is actually nice. All she has to do is have sex with him. She hears, "You're worthless" and "You're a burden" but she never hears, "I love you" except from the lips of a pedophile. She grows up sad and confused because the only man she ever loved goes to jail when people find out. She hides the truth because no one will understand.

But, she's pretty. She's just pretty enough. And charming. She's just charming enough. People flock to her and it's close enough to love. Predators feed on her and it's close enough to love. She gets high and goes from bed to bed with boys and girls alike because it's close enough to love - the closest she's ever going to get. Because everyone leaves and she can't really be loved, not for long.

***

She's just a kid who misses her family. They were so close and she can't understand why everything changed, but she's sure it's her fault. Daddy gets a new wife who hates the kid and then he disappears. Mommy gets wasted every night and brings her and her brother to parties instead of getting a babysitter. She leaves just as soon as she can, but then her brother needs to stay with her and one night he sexually assaults her but no one will believe her. She hears, "You're worthless" and "You're a burden" but she never hears, "I love you." She grows up sad and directionless because she's drowning in her family sickness. She numbs out because it's better than feeling all of this.

But, she's pretty. She's just pretty enough. And charming. She's just charming enough. People flock to her and it's close enough to love. Predators feed on her and it's close enough to love. She shoots dope and drinks because it's close enough to love - the closest she's ever going to get. Because everyone hurts her and she can't really be loved, not for long.

***

I've been told I have a tough exterior, that I exude a strong personality. Inside of me lives a four-year-old and a fourteen-year-old. The four-year-old is scared. She hides and cries and is afraid of monsters. The fourteen-year-old is angry. She screams and lashes out and is afraid to be alone.

Try to understand my damage.

Scumbag Brain

My mom worries about me sharing too much of myself over the internet. She cautions me to play my cards closer to the chest and not let anybody in on what's going on with me. While I can see where she's coming from, that's just never been me. I've always been emotional. I've always been a sharer. There have been times in my life that I tried to be different and it made me miserable. It made me depressed. I can't just hold things in. I need to tell people what's going on with me. I need the honesty. Sure, it opens me up to judgements and criticism but I'd like to think I've done a pretty good job at eliminating people from my life who can't be understanding or supportive. Plus, I've gotten pretty good at taking an appropriate perspective when something negative gets through anyway. Usually I'm able to say, "That person doesn't know me/what they're talking about" or "That person is obviously going through their own stuff and this has nothing to do with me."

So, that offers a bit of context about what I need to write about. Alex is unhappy. I knew he was unhappy when my alarm went off. It was storming so I obviously couldn't do my five mile run. I turned back in and I could hear the annoyance in his voice when he asked it I'd do some other exercise. I went back to sleep and had a wedding nightmare - everything went wrong and time was flying and I was about to scream when I woke up. Scumbag brain. I'd been freaking out about the wedding on and off for various reasons, but I had recently gotten a hold on it. Anyway, Alex was coming back into the room from his shower and I told him about the nightmare. I could still hear that same tone in his voice but I was able to dismiss any further thought process about it because I knew he'd been out of his medication for a couple of days. I figured this was just his normal funk when he's out of meds. He figured that, too.

... then he started texting me and letting me know some of what was on his mind. He was concerned about my skipping out on running (which I did do a bit last week as well). He was annoyed at my messiness. He was concerned about the time I spend watching shows and on my phone. He doesn't know what I'm passionate about, why I don't spend time on things I'm passionate about in the house. What bothered me more than anything else he had to say is that he didn't think he could say any of these things to me. He had received the message at some point that he can't say certain things to me or at certain times. I know this is a message he's received from his upbringing and it has little to do with me, but it still hurts to feel like I'm being compared to the monster of his childhood. Here comes scumbag brain again, chiming in with, "You know, he's been off his medication for a couple of days and all of a sudden he's letting you know things he doesn't like about you. I bet he's not even depressed. I bet he just hates being with you, and you make him depressed." Augh. Way to hit me right in the self-esteem, scumbag brain. I mean, I was able to defeat the thought pretty quickly but too late. Damage done. My heart hurts and my eyes are tearing up.

This is why I hate being an adult sometimes. There are times like these I want to pout and stamp my feet and crawl away inside of a hole and never come out. I can't do that. I have to go back to work and I have to be productive. What's more, I know better and I've learned skills around coping with these thoughts. I really don't have the luxury of indulging these immature feelings and thought  processes but you know what? Sometimes I wish I did. Sometimes I wish I could. Sometimes I just don't want to be an adult.

... but that's just what scumbag brain wants. It wants to derail me and destroy me and make me think it's justified. Because I suck. Because I'm garbage. Because no one ever has or ever will love me. Because there's something wrong with me. Ugh, stop it scumbag brain. This is so childish.

Alex is worried about my mental health. He thinks I might be depressed. I'm a mental health professional, and I'm looking over the DSM V thinking, "but I don't meet this criteria." Then again, I did feel a slight mood lift at the same time I started taking the Wellbutrin compound medication. I don't know. I'm always telling my clients that you are often the worst person to observe yourself because the biases are inescapable. Maybe I'm too invested in believing I'm not depressed. I really don't know.

What I do know is, I hate my scumbag brain and I need it to shut up right now. The adults are talking. The adults are working this out.

Running Revelations

It's strange to me that I took to running the way I did. I've never been particularly athletic or ambitious in that realm. I didn't think I was built like your typical runner. For a long time, I didn't understand why it had become one of my things, but I've slowly come around to understanding.

You see, swimming used to be that thing for me. I love the water, always have. Under the water the noise of the outside world is gone but so is the noise inside my head. For a little while in college I was dragging myself out of bed at ungodly hours of the morning in freezing temps to do 30 laps in the University pool. I never guessed that I'd achieve that kind of peace with running, but I did.

I had a lot of personal revelations in those 30 laps back in the day, and now that I run I get them between miles 3 and 6. Yesterday it was a revelation about what I had called "my anger problems" for most of my life. As a teenager, I was really angry. I had been betrayed by people I trusted. I had been hurt by people who were supposed to love me. I was a scared, hurt little girl who thought that it was better to be angry than sad. You can do something with anger. You don't have to feel so powerless. For a long time, some people only experienced me as That Scary Angry Girl. I carried that around like a badge of honor, like armor against those who could hurt me any more than I'd already been hurt. Fine. This is who I am. Now stay away.

During my 8 mile run yesterday, I had a random thought. Although I know I've grown up a lot since then, I think a part of me held on to that identity. I am passionate and feisty and strong-willed. I thought these were hold-overs from my angry teenager phase, but no. Those qualities are part of my true self. The anger was a traumatized and abused little girl trying her best to hang on for life to get better. It did.

This is important to me because I am often worried about what kind of parent I'm going to be. I worry my anger will get the best of me like it did for my mother and I'll end up hurting or traumatizing my children. But I'm not That Scary Angry Girl anymore. She was never who I really was. I can let go of her because she did her job and life got better and I'm okay now. I'll be a fine mother one day. I know I will.

This is what running has given me.

It Hurts My Heart

 It was a mistake. I knew it was a mistake when I clicked on it, but the therapist in me was curious and the survivor of abuse in me never wants to be alone. I had done a stupid thing and left Alex's headlights on when I borrowed his car, draining his battery. I had nothing better to do while pinned in my car between his car and the house in our barely-wide-enough driveway, foot halfway down on the gas, trying to feed enough power over to his car for about 25 minutes. I clicked on a story about a child sex slave. This story. I wouldn't recommend you read it if you don't want to hate people today. I cried. Let me explain.

I've been in therapy ever since my Ahjashi died. He was a man who was every bit a father to me. When he died, I was devastated. I wasn't prepared, as much as people tried to let me know what was going on. I didn't react the way I thought I would. I didn't cry at first. I just screamed. God, it was so unfair. I was a senior in college and he was supposed to see me walk at the end of that school year. He was supposed to be there for me and be proud and I just couldn't fathom that he wouldn't be. I couldn't get it together, so the Residential Director of my dorm room couldn't help but notice and walked me down to my college's counseling center. There I met an awesome therapist who helped me so much during that difficult time and I've changed hands a few times since then, but more or less I've been in therapy since September 2009.

I thought I had it pretty together. I thought I was strong enough to overcome what I had gone through while I was growing up. I was wrong. As soon as we processed through my grief, my therapist showed me everything that was lurking underneath my surface. It was terrifying and painful. I was and had been for some time an angry little girl who struggled to accept her feelings. It wasn't until I had been transferred over to a student after my first therapist had maxed out his available sessions with me that I started really feeling that anger. This is what I share in common with the girl in that story.

There were many adults in my life who could see what was going on, or were so close, or worse yet completely turned a blind eye because it was too hard or not proper or embarrassing. How dare they. How dare they. I was so angry when I finally got around to feeling this. How could they not help me? How do you look at a child, know they're hurting, and say to yourself, "Not my problem?" I couldn't fathom it. I was so full of rage, but mostly I cried and mourned for the younger version of myself. I didn't deserve what happened to me.

What made it worse was when I moved into my apartment away from the campus proper. It was the top floor or a two-story house, and it was lovely. It turned out that my bedroom was directly over the bedroom of the little girl who lived downstairs. It was amusing to sometimes hear her get ready in the morning, singing her favorite boy band pop songs at the top of her lungs. The downstairs neighbors were lovely people. We rarely had problems. Then one day I happened to be home when the little girl came home from school and I heard her getting punished for, as far as I could tell, bullying another girl at school. I was paralyzed, frozen in place, listening to this all happening below me. I wasn't there. I couldn't say for sure, but it sounded like her mother was really laying into her. I could hear the smacks through the carpeted floor. I could hear the little girl painfully crying. And I did nothing. I didn't go down there and stop it. I didn't call CPS. Nothing.

I was a mess at my next therapy session. God, that was so painful. My therapist, god bless her, she tried so hard to help me understand that it wasn't my fault and I couldn't help and maybe I would've just made things worse and maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. I mean, I had never heard the mother punish her child like that before, nor raise her voice. All evidence pointed to the fact that it was an isolated incident, but this clearly wasn't about the little girl who lived downstairs. This was about me. I was that little girl living downstairs and I know damn well the upstairs neighbors heard what was going on on more than one occasion and no one did a damn thing. God, I was so angry. How could they? Why wouldn't anyone help me?

I once let it slip to an elementary school counselor when I was in kindergarten or first grade, and it went about as well as it did for the girl in that Cracked article. I was once caught in an unconvincing lie about why I had bruises on my arms. My tutor didn't press further. Some people even walked in on it happening and pretended they saw nothing. A pastor was told from the source and played a major part in making sure we all pretended to forget what happened. This was all so painful to recall, but I got through it.

I started crying when the girl in the Cracked article talked about scars, because I know what she's talking about. I am unloved and ugly. I am unbearable and a bad person. Except I'm not. I know I'm not - most days. Therapy helps. Time helps. Amazing, supportive friends help. Alex helps. I still have bad days.

So why did I click on the article? Well, it's nice to know that you're not alone sometimes and hell, I'm a therapist. I got into this field for a reason. It is part of my job to listen to and sit with my clients' traumas. It is also part of my job to call if I have any inkling of neglect or abuse of a child. I do both gladly. I will not be the adult who ignores. I will do my job and, if possible, extend further help. My experience in the field and especially in my graduate program, where I had the privilege of getting to know like-minded people who were also in this field for a reason, has shown me that I'm exactly where I need to be.

I just have bad days, that's all, days when my heart hurts. A lot.

My Weekend with Contrave

So, I took my first dose on Friday morning. I've been taking one pill in the morning ever since. Maybe it was because it was the weekend, but my anxiety and nausea were nowhere to be found all weekend.

I went for a run on Sunday after getting new shoes and gear Saturday. I played games with my friends and roleplayed on my new LARP's forums and I felt good. I felt calm. Maybe it was in part channeling this new, mature, calmer character for the LARP. Maybe it's a placebo effect. I am taking Wellbutrin, though as far as I can tell it's not at a therapeutic dose for depression.

My supervisor pointed out today that sometimes people just don't know they're depressed until they get better. Maybe I've been depressed all along. Maybe that was always the missing link. I'm considering staying on an anti-depressant after I'm done with the Contrave. Maybe it will make a difference for me. I don't know. What I do know is that I had a good weekend.

Also, take a look at my breakfast smoothie recipe:

 

Holy cow! It was a bit thick, so I'm adding honey and eliminating the greek yogurt. Better to use that stuff as a snack later in the day. Had to buy a new blender because I burned out the motor on my old, cheap version by blending a bag of kale with a 1/2 liter of vanilla almond milk - that's my "green base."

Oh, and I'm down in weight from last week. Like, 0.8 lbs, but still.

Onward!

And Now For Something Completely Different!

I've tried. Look back and read and see that I've tried. I've tried getting advice, not getting advice, and blogging. I've tried calorie counting and exercise and taking pictures of my progress. I've tried over-the-counter pills and daily weigh-ins and monthly weigh-ins. I've tried 12-step meetings, Facebook, and reading everything I could on the matter. I've tried. It hasn't worked. I'm not saying I've been faithful to any of my programs. In fact, that is a symptom of the problem I will be discussing in this entry.

My appetite is out of control and has been for some time. It doesn't matter how hungry or full I actually am, I'll just keep eating. I wouldn't say I'm addicted to food. I certainly have some symptoms that point in that direction, but addiction to food is as controversial as addiction to sex. How can you be addicted to something that's a biological imperative? You can, certainly, but I don't think my relationship with food as ruined my life - yet. Real talk? I'm afraid, terrified actually, of developing diabetes and heart disease. I've been in the 230 lbs range for a while. I'm young and, remarkably, healthy. I've had recent blood and urine tests that say as much, but how long can that really last if I keep going this way? I don't want to have to inject insulin into myself. I don't want to develop neuropathy in my hands and feet and eventually risk amputation. I don't want to keel over from a heart attack before my time. I don't want to die at all, but certainly not before my time. This is a problem. It needs a solution. What I've been doing isn't working. It's time for something new.

Enter Contrave. I've been considering this for a while, but yesterday I finally went to see my doctor and had the talk. I told her all of the above and some of my thoughts. She prescribed Contrave (combined, extended-release bupropion - also known as Wellbutrin - and naloxone). If you know anything about brain science (I myself am a brain science groupie/nerd) then you know why this combination of drugs makes sense. I poured over all of the literature and studies material they gave me with the prescription last night. The side-effects are mild, but still scary. The primary side-effect they warn about is nausea, but they also warn about blood pressure issues and suicidal ideation. Since I have no history of either of those last two things, I decided this was an appropriate decision.

What's great about Contrave is that they pair the prescription with a (voluntary) behavior modification program called "ScaleDown." The ScaleDown program sends you a wireless scale free of charge that encourages you to weigh in daily and then sends this information to the program, which them sends you daily text messages with support and advice based on your weigh-in. No calorie counting. No judgement. Just support. This is not just about taking a pill to fix all of my problems. This is about changing my behaviors in the meantime so, less than 6 months from now when they take me off of Contrave, hopefully those habits will endure and I'll keep the weight off.

I stopped drinking after March 8th for various reasons, but Contrave gives me another reason not to drink. The seizure risk is greatly increased by massive alcohol consumption (I would say my drinking behavior trends toward "binging"). The literature also recommends taking the prescription with a low-fat meal. According to my research, that would be 3 grams or less fat per 100 grams of food, or 3 %. I'm just taking a morning dose now but eventually I also have to take it at night, so that means I really should have a low fat breakfast and dinner with some leeway for lunch. This morning I had egg whites with steamed broccoli. I actually find this delicious with a 1/2 tablespoon of butter and some spices.

I'm scared. I took my first dose this morning and I already went through a nausea episode. Also, I'm feeling anxious, which is side-effect. I'm pretty sure both of these symptoms will decrease over time and because I'm experienced and educated, I know what to do to deal with both of these symptoms. For now, I could use some support. No judgement, just support. I don't want obesity-related illness. I don't expect everyone to believe me, but this really isn't about being skinny. I like my body most days. I truly am really afraid of obesity-related illness and I really want to be healthy. Please give me encouragement and wish me luck on this journey. I appreciate it.