I suppose in a metaphorical way, I can relate to the Oklahoma tornado victims. Like them, I suppose I did see a storm brewing on the horizon. Unlike them, I had no real belief that such a crippling event could conceivably happen to me. But in just 2 quick hours, life went from normal to COMPLETELY upside-down, and I was in it for the long haul.
Not me. Not now. I'm too young for this to happen….
In the blink of an eye, I went from a casual 1-hour / 650-calorie elliptical workout, to being curled into the fetal position on my bed praying for daylight.
Many thoughts raced through my head during those hours until I was able to finally fall asleep. Wondering if I should go to the hospital; realizing they wouldn't be able to do anything for me. Sobbing, begging God to take the blinding pain in my back away; realizing I was familiar with this pain, and no amount of prayer could budge the obstacle I feared was before me. I hadn't done anything to provoke the shooting pain and spasms down my leg and up my rib cage, which maybe made it all the more terrifying.
I remember a few things VERY clearly from those early weeks. I remember how hard it was for me to stay active on my fitness Facebook page, listening to everyone doing their AM workouts and wondering when I would even just be able to walk again, or at least without pain. Missing out on volleyball. Succumbing to panic and anxiety over what little control I had over the chronic pain and disability I was trapped in. Hearing things like "Disc Injury" and contemplating my life, my identity….. who or what I was without my athletic goals, dreams and passions.
I can count on one hand the number of times in the past 18 weeks that I have felt like I actually might be making it out of this situation alive. Fortunately, all those times have been within the past 2 weeks, because progress is coming along remarkably fast now. But my, my…. how my body has taken a toll.
The first 8 - 12 weeks had actually scant impact on my body composition. I maintained weight, even my muscle tone. I was only allowed to walk flat ground for 1 hour a day and do light hamstring and seated row exercises, but things held up pretty well -- I stayed on my diet, all seemed good.
But then April happened. This is what I have to say about April 2013: F*&% YOU.
My back went out a second time, my physical therapy bills tripled, and I worked 14 hour days non-stop the ENTIRE MONTH. In that time, I did strictly what I had to do to survive. I had held my diet together despite the depression and the lack of any joy in my life -- I now understand why people turn to food, booze and drugs during times of anxiety, depression or chronic pain. But when the Month From Hell arrived, I needed room to breathe. During April, I got re-addicted to sugar. I tripled my fruit intake, increased my carbs, I still ate 100% clean but the meals I cooked were more on the indulgent side. After 14 weeks of chronic pain and depression, complete lack of endorphins, high stress and long hours at work, AND a relapse of back spasms after so much physical therapy, one can only continue to eat steamed broccoli and boiled chicken breast for so long.
I gained about 8 pounds in April, and while I haven't taken measurements or weighed myself, I think it's safe to say that I am right back to where I started in January 2012. I have come to accept this fact, and I don't let it bother me. I feel my body healing, and I know I can do enough now to at least get the ball rolling to lose the weight and gain the muscle back. I am somewhat excited to re-endure the struggles of avoiding trigger foods for the joy of seeing results. I also realize it will be 3 months before I feel like I have even a SLIGHTLY acceptable body though, and that's a tough one. I don't like what I see in the mirror. I don't like how my clothes fit. It's been a long time since I've felt this way, and part of me is admittedly angry because this injury came out of left field and has completely screwed me over.
But then, after I stop having a pity party for myself, I take a step back and realize that this is a chance to relive the glory of setting goals and achieving them.
I have decided to dedicate this new journey to the high school version of me, who also had gained a lot of weight (puberty was not kind to me), who hated her body, but chose NOT to do the hard work to get it back… and then resorted to eating disorders years later. The first time I started clean eating and all that stuff, it was a kamikaze experiment to see if any of it really worked. Now that I know it DOES work, I like the idea of dedicating these efforts to the old me who never believed it could be possible. I'm about to prove to myself once again, that it is.
And so there we are. I know tomorrow is Wednesday, but I already failed on Monday and Tuesday to adhere to my diet without caving in and succumbing to my sweets cravings. I have successfully cut coffee and milk out though. Tomorrow, I will stick to my diet. I will map out my macros, and post them. And I will begin a weekly check-in, just as I did before, with stats, ups, downs, trials, triumphs, and everything in between. I'm an idiot for starting this a couple days before my period, when I am exhausted and craving sweets as it is, but somehow I've noticed that pain makes it seem more real; cold turkey ain't ever easy, but being conscious of making decisions based off of what I need, not what I want, has a meditative quality to it that I am excited to re-experience.
Just like the reason I started this blog and my fitness page in the first place, this is above all else an accountability tool for me. I know what I need to do; Now, I will go and do it.
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