Yep. You all know that word. And to celebrate the 18-month anniversary of my accident, my doctor has decided that I need to do it. This picture demonstrates what happens every time I think about the “D” word. Something to do with being a plump child and the doctor saying, “There’s nothing wrong with you that a good diet won’t fix!”. Now picture yourself not getting to have anything the other kids have. Or your mom slowly shaking her head as you ask for “just one gummy bear”. Not cool.
I’ll be the first to admit that since the accident I’ve slowing been gaining weight. A myriad of factors contribute to this: I can’t do even half of what I used to physically, I am on a significant number of medications for the PTSD and other phobias I have now developed, I have an erratic sleep schedule and therefore an erratic eating schedule, and lastly,
SOME STUPID IDIOT RAN ME OVER WITH A STUPID ARMOURED TRUCK AND NOW I’M IRREVOCABLY BROKEN FOR ALL OF STUPID TIME!
Ahem. In addition to the dreaded “D” word, the doctor also told me I needed to start exercising more. This is how I feel about that.
I wish I could say that after pushing myself to go beyond the limits of what I can do (ie, walking the entire trip through Walt Disney World), I feel great. But the truth is, I just feel tired. The “I’m gonna cry and it ain’t gonna be pretty” kind of tired. I think my endorphins got broken along with everything else. So my cycle of thought has now come back to what kind of shape I was in before the accident, and if I’m honest, I was in the best shape of my life. Strong, toned, awesome shape. Which invariably I follow up with,
IF THE STUPID GUY IN THE STUPID TRUCK HADN’T STUPID RUN ME OVER, I WOULDN’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT A STUPID DIET AND STUPID EXERCISE.
Sorry. I’m working through a lot of anger about this whole thing.
Since I can’t very well just head to the gym and start lifting free weights, the doctor recommends that I lane swim to build muscle strength and increase my cardio. Which, don’t get me wrong, is probably the best thing she could have said. I love swimming. I grew up on a lake, my parents still live on a lake, and I love love LOVE being in the water. But now I’m worried that swimming will become a chore. And I don’t want it to. MiniSir has already admitted that he’d love to come swimming with me whenever he can, and I know that he is planning on dieting with me, and these make the whole pill easier to swallow. At least I’ll have his support through all of this. And yeah, blah blah blah, make the best of what you have, but a tiny part of me still just wishes she could turn back time and stop all this from happening.
So a happy anniversary to me. I’m cutting out carbs and sugar (okay, I’m cutting out most carbs and sugar because I’m afraid if I stop all together the cumulative bread craving will literally kill me), and we are figuring out a way to pay for a membership to the YMCA. But… I’m still here to do all that stuff.
I guess it really is a happy anniversary after all.