"You get what you pay for, but I just had no intention of living this way." -Counting Crows

Why We're Here...

My husband David and I delivered a stillborn Baby Boy that we loved, and wanted. Our first and only son, Logan, had Down Syndrome. Our daughter's smile is a little light in the darkness. She turned one year old three days after our sweet Logan tip-toed away on January 24, 2009. After 2 1/2 years we found out we were having another baby, whom we affectionatly called Rudy. Just shy of 6 weeks we found out Rudy was Ectopic. Rudy was surgically removed on May 26, 2011 delivering another blow to our already broken hearts.

What happens after you've given up?

This is part of a post I wrote today on my diet blog The Fatty Cakes Girls Club that I co-author with a skinny friend of mine.  My post have taken a different turn recently.  I used to keep Logan and the "issues" I have with that tucked neatly, safely and mostly secretly tucked away here on this blog.  But, reality is what it is.  And my reality is trying, struggeling, and failing daily to get a handle on my weight loss and fitness in the face of depression and emotional eating.  So, lately the two issues have crossed each other and I thought I would share a little of that here.  Maybe this would be a more appropriate post for The Dead Baby Club Blog.  But, here it is anyway.

What Happens After You've Given Up?

Seriously. What happens after you've given up? I need to find an article or something. But this is where I am. I've given up. I've tossed in the towel on pretty much everything around me. I hate who it makes me. I hate what I look like, how I feel. But I don't seem to know what to do now.

I joined a group on SparkPeople.com for depression. The thing is, it seems like a joke to me. I'm not sure how people really find hope or comfort in those things, but they must. I don't. I'm not "just" depressed. Its not some chemical impalance or something. I'm insanely sad, and for good reason. Most days I'm just numb. Numb is better than gut wrenching tears, or not. I haven't decided yet. For those of you who missed it, I had a stillborn son in January. It was unexpected, as I guess most of the time it is. Anyhow, I know that the crap that I'm neck deep in is all normal. If I went to a shrink they'd give me meds (which I'm not keen on) and tell me that its all part of grief and its normal. That I just have to weather the storm. So that's what I do. Everyday I tread water, metaphorically of course since treading water would make me loose weight and since that's not happening... But everyday I just survive. And I'm tired. I'm tired of having to work at it. IT being everything. I just don't have the energy, the will, whatever. Anyhow, this group...its been no help. They say things like, step 1) get up. 2) Brush your teeth and comb your hair 3) get dressed....uh hello? I know that its like that for a lot of people. And frankly if it wasn't for my daughter...I'd still be caught at step one. What I wouldn't give to just sleep through this mess. But seriously, reading on the internet that all you have to do is get up and "tah-dah" life will be better, its a farse. No duh. I know I need to get up, get presentable (pony-tail style, right Jules??), eat, stay alive. Its the things that I don't "have" to do. Like eat decent food, exercise, clean the house, maybe even shower... :) I wish it was that easy. Just do it. Just say it, and it will be so. But it's not. I've tried to fake it. I've "just done it" and nothing stuck. I do the bare minimum. Some days I get a spark, and on those days maybe I work out, or maybe I grocery shop, or clean. But those days are few and far between. It feels like it takes all the energy I have just to survive the day. To be a good mommy to my daughter, to be an acceptable (or at least not repulsive) wife to my dh. I don't have strength to be anything else, for anyone else. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you want to look at it, a tiny spot in my heart still desires for those things...on occasion, when that spot isn't being over run with the other crap.

I know this isn't really the "place" for that tangent, but I know that lots of people read this blog, and lots of people struggle with various forms of depression or other issues that make loosing weight seem impossible, and sometimes it is. The point is that other people have these struggles too. Not everyone wakes up one day and decides that "today is the day" and boom, everything falls into place and the weight just goes melting away. Weight loss is a hard battle faught by millions of people, a lot of whom are depressed or are emotional eaters. A lot of whom struggle with getting out of bed, much less on the elliptical. I guess the good thing is that even if I've given up, it's temporary. I'm still blogging. I lay my heart out bare and display my humiliation of 9 months of failed weight loss attempts for everyone to judge, and have opinions about. And maybe someday I'll be able to look back and marvel at how far I came. Maybe someone will read these posts and see how low I was, and then read how I succeeded and maybe they'll be inspired. Maybe that's what keeps me trudging on, even after I've given up.

So Fatty Cakes, what keeps you going when you've given up? What's the huge motivator that pushes you to keep trying even after years of failure and embarressment? Why are you here?

::: ::: :::

So, this is to all of you in DB land.  Have any of you been trying to loose weight?  I mean, we're all just like "normal" post-partum mums.  We all needed to loose that baby fat.  Luckily, or whatever, I didn't need to loose the "baby" weight so much as the fat butt I had prior too.  I gained a mere 6lbs in the short 6 months I gestated Logan, which at the time they were congratulating, and only just begining to raise an eyebrow about.  No, I don't feel like my lack of gain affected Logan's development.  I'm about 40lbs overweight, so low gain was encouraged, and Logan's issue is genetic (DS).  Anyhow, after Logan died I discovered for the first time that I am an emotional eater.  The only comfort I could manage to find was in food and soda.  Anything loaded with sugar.  Anything that gave me that slight rush, even if only for a second.  That caused me to add an additional 10lbs to my already fat butt.  For the most part I've overcome the emotional eating thing (though I still struggle with finding comfort in a bottle of pop or a Mocha).  I still have a lot of bad days, though I try to see it for what it is.  But I can not for the life of me stick with a diet or exercise program to save my life.  I keep thinking, why bother?  Why make myself more miserable than I already am?  And I just can't seem to talk myself into keeping at it.  And sadly, it adds to the depression.  Its like, I sit here and I know what the problem is, and I know how to fix it (because I lost 40lbs a few years ago when I put my mind to it) and yet, I just can't seem to get up.  I feel like a boiled frog.  I know what's happening, but I can't work up the strngth to do anything about it.  And I HATE IT!  I don't know this person!

Sadly I thought I was having a few good weeks.  But what I am realizing now is that they're just weeks of voids.  There is no comfort to be found anywhere in anything.  And I've just gone numb.  I don't care.  I don't care that I'm drinking soda that a couple of months ago I convinced myself was poison.  I don't care that I'm eating nasty, tasteless food from some joint because at least I didn't have to cook it, and now I don't have to clean it up.  I don't care that my hair doesn't get brushed, or that I'm not showered.  I don't care that I'm not working out, and only mildly care if I gain weight.  Most days I'm just relieved not to have gianed any weight.  I don't care that my house is a mess and that I don't have any clean clothes.  The only thing I care about is trying to make David happy (or at least not adding to his depression) and making my daughter smile.  Which frightens me because I never wanted a spoiled child, and she may well end up that way because I am so desperate to please her.  Although, momma still knows what a time-out chair looks like.

So if you've lost weight, or kicked some other habit, how'd you get the umph after loosing your baby?  Where'd you find the desire to give a crap?  Even after figuring out that it was something you HAD to do, how did you ACTUALLY manage to get it done?


Catherine W said...

If only I knew Heather. I'm also quite a comfort eater, I'm heavier now than when I was pregnant with the twins. I guess I've got about a stone to shed to get back to where I would like to be. But I just don't care enough to bother. That boiled frog feeling? Yup, I hear you.
Much love xo

Michele said...

I too have been known to nosh to dull the ache. It just makes me feel crappier afterwards and yet I still do it. And then I change my mind and wont eat for days because I just cant swallow a bite. It's a vicious cycle...

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