24 July 2014

A little victory dance...?

Something occurred to me over the weekend and, now that it's struck home, I'm going to mark it up as a positive, and as progress, and as something to be very pleased (proud?) about indeed.

In fact, I'd say it's one of my lovely Mum's blessings, right here in front of me to be counted... and, do you know, although I've 'sort of' seen it before (and even mentioned it) I just hadn't really remembered it and recognised it, nor taken notice of it for the good thing it is.

With one thing and another (you know, the usual e.g. health, family, work, you name it...), there has been a fair amount of stress, angst and worry in life again of late. Yeah, yeah, I know - so what's new, huh? That means I have, inevitably, had my fair share of rough moments, where I've felt like I'm really struggling.

At those darker points, although I've 'mostly' avoided it, the bad old behaviours try to surface and, like diving face-first into a plateful of comfort food, quite often sounded like a darned fine idea. Indeed, I have strayed off the straight and narrow low-carb ketogenic path a couple of times, but somehow (thank heavens) managed to haul my silly self back on track pretty sharpish... although I've also seen the scales needle twitch upwards now and again as a result.

But to get back to the blessing?  When I think about it, it's quite simple, but the consequences are significant. It's that I HAVE seen the danger, and that I HAVE taken notice of it, and I HAVE actually done something to avert the looming crisis. Hey, is this maintenance?

Well I guess so, and the proof? Even though I've seen the odd brief rise (and whined about it accordingly), my weight when I look back over the last couple of years (which was for soooo long a 'big' problem, in every sense of the word) has pretty much remained inside a perfectly 'acceptable' band. Acceptable, eh? So what does that mean, exactly?

Well, to me these days my 'happy' place is somewhere around the 53 to 54 kg mark. OK, I've fluctuated at times, maybe a kilo, a kilo and a half, very occasionally two kilos, above/below my 'that's fine' zone, but that's all - even throughout all of life's traumas (large and little). My dress size has remained constant too, which seems a bit of a miracle, even if I've sometimes noticed slightly tighter or looser waistbands.

Wow! How about that. For a formerly obese (Class 2, to boot!) fat lass, having no major gains or losses in the last couple of years(!) but something approaching stability, is fantastic. Actually, in my world, that's something really pretty amazing. Hence the teensy little jig of victory.

Now I know that perfection ain't me, and I don't want to count too many chickens, but I really do think this successful pattern in 'maintenance' marks a change for the better for this fat lass.

This feels significant to me because the whole concept of 'maintaining' still worries me (a.k.a. scares me witless!). Being so long obese, I still fear that I'll wake up one morning and it'll all have been a lovely dream and now I'm awake find myself still trapped in my layer of blubber. And, believe me, that's somewhere I REALLY don't want to go back to.

I'm still on my journey, and still learning to take care of 'me'. I hope I'll always be able to learn, and always recognise the lessons... eventually. It takes effort, sure, but I also know I'd have struggled a whole lot more with sustaining the weight loss if it wasn't for a low-carb lifestyle.

Long may it continue... onwards, ever.

17 July 2014

Hard times

I can hardly believe it has been a year since I sat by the side of a hospital bed and spent my last moments with my sweet Mum, holding her hand and telling her, just one final time, that I loved her. In some ways it seems an eternity ago, and such a lot (good and pretty horrible) has gone on in that time. In other ways it feels that it's just like yesterday. Either way, it hurts... like hard stone lodged in my soul... and it hurts a lot.

Sometimes, maybe even most of the time, I can remain relatively bright, shiny and positive and force myself to remember and focus upon only the good and beautiful things about how fortunate I was to share my life with her. Other times (like most of this damn week) I just want to curl up and howl at her loss.

As much as I miss her, I would not wish her back to the pain and helplessness of her last few months. But hell, I really do miss her and it hurts. I glance down at my finger which now bears her wedding ring and I know that I'll never truly 'lose' her or my darling Dad as I carry the symbol of their love and devotion to one another with me always. That comforts me. But it still bloody hurts.

Dammit, just have to keep onwards, ever...

09 July 2014

Still here

What more can I say...

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