Mints and bloodwork...
Both of my arms hurts, multiple blood draws over the past few days. Yesterday was for a research study. Today was standard bloodwork. I am hopeful that this absolute lack of interest in food and appetite is a vitamin deficiency versus something more nefarious. I remember when I stopped caring about food; my father had broken his back, so I wrote it off as stress. Then he died, so I wrote it off as grief.
It's been 18 months since I have cared for food.
I have bought a meal prep course and have interest in doing so, but I continue to struggle with planning ahead. When I wake up in the morning, I can't even think of eating. What's food? my brain thinks, not comprehending why I would need to bring a lunch and what that would look like. Eventually, this turns into my immediate hunger for something quick and fast from across the street at work.
I was walking with a coworker of mine to the mall on a regular basis, but between the output of money to maintain that lifestyle and the inevitable increase in caseload duties, I stopped walking with him. I feel as though there was also an emotional injury between us, so I am hoping we can rectify this soon enough when I get some space at work.
In any case, I am frustrated by the lack of initiative to do anything health-focused. The weird missing appetite is just plain, uh, weird. And even though I both have a fully-functional gym in my office and now no real barriers to maybe joining the women's gym close to me, my brain cannot process doing it. My PCP, when I was discussing this, was almost in a panic. "Are you depressed? YOU WOULD KNOW IF YOU'RE DEPRESSED, RIGHT?" And I don't feel depressed. I have no other issues that could warrant depression nor grief. I sleep fine, libido is fine, mood is stable, no thoughts of death or self-harm.
I just don't care about food.
And food in general bothers me. I do not struggle, at this point, in obtaining food. I can have a different cuisine every night. And I mean, EVERY night. So I struggle when I indulge in exotic or ethnic foods because this could just be Wednesday. It was one thing to indulge in Scotland; when would I theoretically go back? But I don't need to eat all the fries or the naan or anything since we could just go back there tomorrow.
So then why do I do it?
I have also had a handful of times where I seem to compulsively eat food like I won't have it ever, ever again. And then have problems breathing because of how much food. It's not an exorbitant amount, per se, so I wouldn't call it bingeing, but my body does not care for it and there's no reason for it. Like tonight's potluck at work- did I really need to take a slice of pizza from across the street that my patient brought?
I do know I need to be more intentional in the food itself. Maybe I could have those sausages or the sloppy joe, but not the Hershey's bar because I can buy that tomorrow. And all of this candy is floating through my office and I am the one bringing it there!
I do hope that the bloodwork will shed some light on my somatic concerns. I have other thoughts as to my weight, the subconscious reasons I have maintained my relative size and stature over the years. Especially now with my father's death and my mother's health. She has shrunk so much in size. If I'm not heavy and strong, will I be able to lift her when she undoubtedly falls again on the floor?
Is that it? I just stopped writing because that thought just stopped my brain cold. Is that what the weight is? Leverage for picking up my 330lb father? And now leverage for when my mother lands on the floor again for some unknown reason?
I have this frustration of being able to sort and pay money and overall, be pretty damned successful. But my health? Not so much. And at this point, I don't have too many barriers to prevent me from either food prepping or going to a gym, or even working out in my office. But I can sit here and prepare for more cats and postulate what is causing all of it.
I bought caffeinated mints. I am going to try one tomorrow morning as soon as I wake up. I am hopeful the mint will wake me up enough and jolt me to stay awake. Maybe the waking up is the issue. Once I am moving, I am pretty productive. Maybe I can just try with the mints. Any sort of little hack to get me moving voluntarily is useful. I am pretty good with getting up for appointments or all of these research studies or going to work early. When it's just me, I want to lounge under my quilted blanket in my fluffy socks covered in multiple cats, just listening to the traffic by our house. It comforts and soothes my soul.
So first, we did bloodwork. Tomorrow, I will try mints. And we'll see if we can start making some much-needed headway onto the health journey I had started five years ago...
... bit by bit, mint by mint.
It's been 18 months since I have cared for food.
I have bought a meal prep course and have interest in doing so, but I continue to struggle with planning ahead. When I wake up in the morning, I can't even think of eating. What's food? my brain thinks, not comprehending why I would need to bring a lunch and what that would look like. Eventually, this turns into my immediate hunger for something quick and fast from across the street at work.
I was walking with a coworker of mine to the mall on a regular basis, but between the output of money to maintain that lifestyle and the inevitable increase in caseload duties, I stopped walking with him. I feel as though there was also an emotional injury between us, so I am hoping we can rectify this soon enough when I get some space at work.
In any case, I am frustrated by the lack of initiative to do anything health-focused. The weird missing appetite is just plain, uh, weird. And even though I both have a fully-functional gym in my office and now no real barriers to maybe joining the women's gym close to me, my brain cannot process doing it. My PCP, when I was discussing this, was almost in a panic. "Are you depressed? YOU WOULD KNOW IF YOU'RE DEPRESSED, RIGHT?" And I don't feel depressed. I have no other issues that could warrant depression nor grief. I sleep fine, libido is fine, mood is stable, no thoughts of death or self-harm.
I just don't care about food.
And food in general bothers me. I do not struggle, at this point, in obtaining food. I can have a different cuisine every night. And I mean, EVERY night. So I struggle when I indulge in exotic or ethnic foods because this could just be Wednesday. It was one thing to indulge in Scotland; when would I theoretically go back? But I don't need to eat all the fries or the naan or anything since we could just go back there tomorrow.
So then why do I do it?
I have also had a handful of times where I seem to compulsively eat food like I won't have it ever, ever again. And then have problems breathing because of how much food. It's not an exorbitant amount, per se, so I wouldn't call it bingeing, but my body does not care for it and there's no reason for it. Like tonight's potluck at work- did I really need to take a slice of pizza from across the street that my patient brought?
I do know I need to be more intentional in the food itself. Maybe I could have those sausages or the sloppy joe, but not the Hershey's bar because I can buy that tomorrow. And all of this candy is floating through my office and I am the one bringing it there!
I do hope that the bloodwork will shed some light on my somatic concerns. I have other thoughts as to my weight, the subconscious reasons I have maintained my relative size and stature over the years. Especially now with my father's death and my mother's health. She has shrunk so much in size. If I'm not heavy and strong, will I be able to lift her when she undoubtedly falls again on the floor?
Is that it? I just stopped writing because that thought just stopped my brain cold. Is that what the weight is? Leverage for picking up my 330lb father? And now leverage for when my mother lands on the floor again for some unknown reason?
I have this frustration of being able to sort and pay money and overall, be pretty damned successful. But my health? Not so much. And at this point, I don't have too many barriers to prevent me from either food prepping or going to a gym, or even working out in my office. But I can sit here and prepare for more cats and postulate what is causing all of it.
I bought caffeinated mints. I am going to try one tomorrow morning as soon as I wake up. I am hopeful the mint will wake me up enough and jolt me to stay awake. Maybe the waking up is the issue. Once I am moving, I am pretty productive. Maybe I can just try with the mints. Any sort of little hack to get me moving voluntarily is useful. I am pretty good with getting up for appointments or all of these research studies or going to work early. When it's just me, I want to lounge under my quilted blanket in my fluffy socks covered in multiple cats, just listening to the traffic by our house. It comforts and soothes my soul.
So first, we did bloodwork. Tomorrow, I will try mints. And we'll see if we can start making some much-needed headway onto the health journey I had started five years ago...
... bit by bit, mint by mint.