A Smaller Target

Okay, so I'm back

Weight: 197 (ouch!)

What's happened? Too much to discuss in one entry for sure. Details will emerge (or not) as the blog turns.

A very short summery is that I had a depressive episode that lasted much of October through March -- the longest and deepest period of depression I've ever experienced. There were some up days, but generally it was like being trapped in an abyss. By the time it finally started to end, I'd all but given up hope that it would ever end. At the time I knew I needed help, but I also knew that it was all I could do to just keep going to work and keep my life together. I also ate a lot of sugar, gave up exercise, got behind on vitamins and basically let a lot of things fall all to hell. Therefore I'm up 30 pounds. I did get as high as 202. Ugh.

Since the depression ended or rather ebbed, I've seen a psychiatrist at my university's hospital. He's great and has helped a lot. He's also diagnosed me as bipolar. This wasn't a surprise -- I think I've known for years and just been resisting believing anyone else could tell. To be honest, I feel like I'm only smart when I'm in a manic period and I worry that without those times I won't be able to get any work done. I'm on lithium now and still afraid. But I also can't bear to go through that sort of depression again.

I'm also really, really tired of seeing doctors. I wrote the following for somewhere else about just this problem.

-----

I'm tired of talking about me.

I should qualify that statement a bit -- don't get me wrong. I find myself utterly fascinating. After all, I spend a lot of time with me. I write about me (what else is blogging after all?). I sometimes meet friends for coffee and talk about myself at least some of the time (at least during the time we're not talking about their children).

So what do I mean?

Basically I'm complaining about having to go to the doctor. Or rather, about going to doctors for the first time. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I've been seeing a psychiatrist. He's great -- I like him a lot. But he's not a long term therapist. Rather, he's the one who's diagnosed me (bipolar I with anxiety disorder in case you're keeping track) and keeps track of my lithium dosage and blood readings.* Anyway, he's been great and wants me to find a therapist. Ever the obedient patient, I determined to do as told.

However, rather than just taking a referral, I decided it would be far easier to use the student counseling services on campus. This would mean, thought I, that I could just go to therapy once a week on my lunch hour. So I made an appointment (explaining the situation on the phone to the intake person), filled out yet another pile o' forms with statements about my feelings, past treatments, family history and the like. When I got to the office yesterday, I was met with yet another pile of forms. This is a university and I work here so I knew better than to argue. I just filled the damn things out out and turned them in.

My next step was a meeting with Rebecca, a graduate psych student doing clinical practice (like, she'd be practicing on me). That's cool, she seemed nice enough. We went through 45 minutes of discussion about why I was there, questions about my history, my goals and then my feelings. I had no thoughts for her on my feelings -- I felt fine (other than being a little hungry due to the lack of lunch).

Then she started talking in that very gentle, I-hope-you're-not-going-to-be-angry-or-melt-down way. Rebecca told me she wanted to refer me off campus to a counseling psychiatrist or psychologist. That the center now had a policy of only doing 12 sessions with any student in a given year and she felt I'd be better off with someone who I could see in an on-going fashion without needing to worry about running into the that limit. Plus, since I have a medical diagnosis of a specific disorder, there would be no problem with insurance coverage even off campus. As I listened, I wasn't in danger of melting down, but my first thought was "damn, I so don't want to introduce myself again."

There's nothing for it of course. She's right -- a private therapist is definitely the way to go. Before anyone says it, I know I'm really fortunate. I live in Santa Monica where there's no shortage of mental health professionals and I'll be able to take my pick. My insurance coverage as a student is good. Pablo's coverage as a university employee is even better. But even when I'm feeling good, this sort of intake is agony. I hate talking to strangers**, especially about myself. Especially about what's going on in my head, which is my own private domain. I keep myself feeling safe a lot of times by making sure to let people talk about themselves and not talking about the things that I feel are private and important to me. I'm not just introverted -- most of the time I'm shy too.

This blog entry is just a little whine, there's nothing for it and the appointments will have to be made. I'm just glad that I won't get the referrals until Thursday. With the Friday holiday that means the earliest I can even start making appointments is July 7.

---

*this is apparently very important as there's a rather fine line between the therapeutic and toxic blood level of lithium. Knowing this does not help with my anxiety issues, but the lithium does seem to be a helpful mood stabilizing drug.

**writing to strangers in a blog is apparently a completely different matter.

Small Kindnesses

I used to be a really good student.  I'm not especially smarter than average, maybe even below average for a PhD student, but I was a really good student.  The sort that does extra work, not for praise, or at least not just for praise, but because I loved the work and was really excited about it.  This isn't especially unusual either, I suspect.  Why else would someone work in literature after all?

Then my personal life fell apart and got put back together in a much happier way (divorce, romance, second marriage).  And then I got sick and sicker and sicker. Drugs.  Anxiety.  Therapy. Surgery.  And then I got better and better and better.  More surgery.

In the meantime, the university forced me to take my quals.  I passed. And then a whole lot of nothing. 

Last Spring / Summer? Maybe 20 pages of dissertation.  And a plan to finish in a year or so.

This Fall / Spring?  Another 65.  And a plan to finish in a year.

And, of course, meantime noises about graduate students taking too long to complete.  Them being pushed out.  I feared being told much the same.

Yesterday I swallowed my pride and wrote emails to my department's Graduate Director (Professor K) and my own dissertation chair (Professor M).  Professor K emailed me back at once wanting to see me today.  I panicked, but made the meeting, armed only with a realistic completion plan and my trusty draft chapters..

It was wonderful. Professor K was nothing but supportive and encouraging.  Glad I was working away and happy I'd come to see him.  He advised me to meet with my chair, Professor M, as soon as possible. 

After I left his office, I noticed the door to Professor M's office was open and stuck my head in.  I introduced myself (she didn't recognize me and mistook me for a text book rep) and we hugged.  She had a meeting to rush off to, but we met for a few minutes, arranged a meeting for tomorrow afternoon and I walked back to my office. 

Suddenly I'm a PhD candidate in good standing again.   And apparently have been all along.

Who knew?

A Five Day Week

I'm up and about and waiting for my morning lift to campus.  She sees to be running a bit late -- another few minutes and I'll be calling to check what's up. 

This morning my weight was 174.  This is high, but not as high as it was over the weekend when it topped out at 178.  Did I panic?  Oh, just a bit.  Ironically it kept going up for a few days AFTER I cut back on my carbs last week.   I'm trying to see  this for what it  no doubt is, feedback for not eating right for a month, all catching up with me.  But it's still terrifying.  I'd like to see my weight get down into the 150s despite what my surgeon talked about in terms of goal weight mostly so that it going up 10 pounds is less frightening.  But first things first.  I need to get it back to 165.

The ironic thing I think is that the weight, some of which was my period bloat, makes no difference in my clothes except for my bras (they fit better when my breasts are fuller).  I'm not sure what that means, probably that my jeans are all a little too big, but it does make it harder to use my clothes as a guide for how my weight is doing. 

Anyway, I'm mostly through the hard days of getting off carbs.  The trick will be staying off them at work.  Because work is where I'm going to be spending most of the coming week.  I'm working my campus job today, Tuesday and Thursday, Friday, with a train trip up to UCSB to see a friend who's in from England on Wednesday.  My plan right now is to stay the night up there and then come back at the crack o' dawn on the Thursday morning train and then go straight into work.

It'll be strange not spending at least one day working at home this week.  I have to remind myself that most people actually work out of the their houses five days a week.  It's been a very long time since I've done that, spoiled creature that I am. 

The weekend was fun.  We went to see Hot Fuzz Friday night.  It was great.  Not quite as good as Shaun of the Dead, probably because I knew what to expect this time, but fun none the less.  The theater was crowded and it seemed a good time was being had by all. 

Yesterday Paul went out early and got us tickets for the LA Times Festival of Books.  I've only been once before, but it's a very cool event each year.   I can't remember all the tickets he picked out, but I know we've got them to hear Paul Conrad and that he got me one for Walter Mosely.  As to the rest, well we'll just have to see. 

Thinking About VA Tech

My heart goes out to the VA Tech students, faculty, staff and their families. 

I'm a graduate student and work on a university campus about the same size as VA Tech.  I also used to supervise one of the larger campus residence halls.  This situation is horrifying partly because I can't imagine a simple way such an act could be prevented.

To those who can't understand how two hours could pass between the shootings without the campus having been evacuated between, I'd ask that you imagine the university as a community the size of a medium sized town -- we're talking maybe 35,000 people who live, work and/or go to school there.  The hour the first of these shootings happened would be just at a time when the school's administration would be on their way to campus.  Meantime everyone is arriving for morning classes. 

By the time the police figured out what had happened at the dorms, classes had already started across the campus. 

I'm not saying that everything was handled perfectly -- I imagine there will be plenty of room for hindsight and re-evaluation -- but I don't imagine my own campus would have responded more effectively.  We're just not built with the idea of being under siege.  Maybe that's been all of our mistakes. 

Such a grim thought.

Not Much

Weight 167

I'm sorry this blog has gone a bit quiet.  I'm doing okay.  Spring break started on Friday and I've been trying to get some writing done on my dissertation so I can have a chapter finished at the end of month. 

Food was bad for a bit.  I sort of crashed and burned a bit on my pledge not to have sugar during Lent but have gotten back into it.  As ever, the first days out are the hardest.  I've armed myself with the SF chocolates so we'll see how it goes. 

There will be more soon, I promise.  Thanks for all the comments and emails.  I do love hearing from everyone!

A Slurpee Weekend

Sometimes I totally forget how fortunate I am but then something happens that reminds me.  What in my very fortunate life could I be talking about here?

The weather.  It was one of those weekends, but even within the weekend, Saturday was one of those days.

We slept in and stayed in bed longer, sunshine streaming through our window curtains.  I could feel the warmth coming through.  I'd decided to go to the Santa Monica farmer's market in search of berries (see Pavolva pics).   On an impulse I pulled out a red sundress (the one from Anthropologie that I wore for my grandmother's 100th party) and put in on with sandels, grabbing a jean jacket as we headed out the door.  I did have a moment of fear, wondering if I'd be cold.  I'm always cold, but decided that I needed to feel sun on my skin and I probably could use the vitamin D. 

Of course you know what happened.  In less than a block the jacket was tied around my waist and I was wondering why I'd even brought it.  It was so warm, with temperatures in Santa Monica well over 80.  It felt like June.  Or even July -- lots of days in the summer don't get that warm.   

I did my berry picking (out of a stall at the market) and met up with Paul at the Apple Store.  When we headed home I realized I was actually hot.  I can't tell you how weird that is -- I'm cold all the time.  Suddenly, walking up Wilshire with Paul, it felt like a summer day from my childhood.  In response to that I suggested stopping for slurpees at our local 7/11.  Big spender, I even made the brain freeze my treat.

Paul got their new flavor, Strawberries and Cream (he wasn't so fond) while I got the Crystal Light SF Raspberry Lemonade (a little too sweet, but it tasted o so good).  Of course I lost control of the spiggot and nearly made a huge mess, but it was all fun and good. 

How is this weight loss related?  Because I remember when just walking to farmer's market and back -- a total of maybe 14 blocks -- would have been too much, especially in any sort of heat.  To celebrate that, not to mention a day in the 80s in mid February, well, how can I not feel fortunate?

Word, Sarah

Weight 165

This is something I've been thinking about a lot -- the guilt people seem to have about how they're spending their weekends.  As I was musing about how to write about it, I realized this morning that Sarah had already done so in a blog entry called "Viva La Downtime." 

In this delightful little bit of writing, Sarah comments on how the corporate drive for competitive productivity in the workplace has translated in recent years to competitive comparisons of productivity on the weekend.  Isn't that just wildly lame?

Now, before anyone wired like my dad gets annoyed, I'm not knocking people doing whatever they want to do on their time.  If someone wants to get up at 5:00 AM Saturday, go for a brisk jog, do a few hours of gardening, build a new work shed, outlet mall shop and then whip up 3 dozen deviled eggs to take to a neighborhood bbq, by all means they should have at it.  But if  I want to spend my Saturday drinking coffee and reading the newspaper in bed or playing PS2 games or lolling around the house in my pjs, I've got nothing to feel guilty about either. 

There's no overriding virtue to be found in a busy weekend.  Yes, for people that work M-F there are tasks that have to be done on the weekends.  And yes, for people with children, these are probably many and varied and require planning.  But productivity for productivity sake is a concept I don't even want to have to consider during my downtime.  And weekends need to be about that, assuming we're the sort that need downtime.

Example?  A lot of Saturdays I don't answer the phone.  Not for anyone.  I spend the week on the phone in the office.  I like not having to talk on it at home.  I'm not a cardiac surgeon.  There's no message anyone could leave me that can't be dealt with in a couple of hours time.  When Paul and I go for walks on the weekend, I don't take my phone.  Again, no one needs to reach me that urgently.  If it's good news, it will keep.  If it's bad news, well, experience has shown that will reach me eventually too.  And if the caller is trapped under something heavy, dammit, they should call 9-1-1. 

I bring this up because I sat at my favorite coffee place Sunday and listened for far too long as a woman FREAKED out about the fact she didn't have her mobile with her.  That she'd forgotten it but that she also hated how she had to have it with her all the time. Her friend listened, kind of.  I say kind of, because her friend was also busy taking and making calls on her own phone.  I mean, there they were together, but not.  What's the point of being stressed out about being in touch all the time?  Again, if your mobile is a source of fun and pleasure, great.  I'm glad you have it.  But if you hate having to answer the phone when you're out with friends, unless there's a newborn you've left at home or you're on an organ transplant list, turn it off while you have coffee.  Who ever is trying to reach you will leave a message.  Or call back.

There's something wrong with making our weekends look like our workdays.  I mean, if I can't tell them apart, why even have the days off?

Good Morning... or Not

Weight: No idea.  But as of this morning my size 10 cords are fitting again.

The day started out okay.  I've been able to sleep reasonably well for the past few nights so getting up this morning wasn't too hard. I'd planned in advance what I was going to wear and got out of the house in plenty of time.  The buses were on schedule so even though it's cold (for SoCal) here, I wasn't standing outside too long.  I got to work on-time.

And then things started turning to crap.  How so you ask?

Well, the biggie was discovering that my position may be eliminated for next year.  This would mean having to find a new graduate assistant job, not the easiest thing even though this is pretty low paying as real work goes.  Those of you who followed my blog through the summer of 2005 know that getting this job required no small amount of effort.  Because I plan to be on the academic job market next winter, there aren't a lot of departments on campus that would be happy to hire me (and no, I can't hide that this will be the case -- anyone looking at my resume who understands how the PhD process works would know) since the process involves a good amount of travel / time away. 

This could really suck.  Outcome should be known by the end of the month.  They think.  I know to people outside universities this sounds like a ton of notice.  But it isn't.  In my field, hiring and fellowship support are done about a year in advance. So I'm already behind in looking for a new job.  And will be 

Anyway, so I got back to my office planning to call a friend and whine about it only to find that my mobile phone (which admittedly has been limping in recent days) has finally given up the ghost.  It won't even work with the charger plugged in. So I need to spend some cash on a new phone at the end of the week.  Grrr!  Something that REALLY sucks is that there are phone numbers on my current phone that I don't have anywhere else.  No, I'm too much of an idiot to have backed them up.  So if this puppy won't turn on these are people who I'll just have to hope contact me at some point.  Great.

It's 10:20 AM.  How soon until I get to go home?

STRESS

Sorry for being so silent.  I sort of just collapsed in a heap when we got back from Portland.  And then my sister and mom are in town for Eloise's surgery (more to come) and so I spent Sunday with the two of them.

There's been a lot of stuff that's gone on inside and outside my head and I've wanted to write about it.  As today was my first day back at work I'm beginning to see that the odds of me actually writing all of what I want to say aren't great.  So I'm going to do a short form and then fill it in later.

Family:

• My brother and his girlfriend got engaged this weekend.  This is very happy news indeed.  They've lived together for the last 18 months and have been boyfriend / girlfriend since they were 16/14 respectively, so it's not a total surprise, but still, very happy news indeed.  And, more interesting still, judging from the ring my brother has fantastic taste in jewelery.  He chose and designed a beautiful elegant ring that's unique and classic looking all at once.  Who knew?  They want a late summer wedding but it may be tricky finding a church at this late date.  Fingers crossed for them!
• Eloise (who is down to 190 from her high of 410 in case you need an update) had her spinal surgery this morning.  It was trickier then had been expected (which made it all the better that she was having it in Los Angeles with an world-class neurosurgeon rather than in Lima Ohio where she lives) because there were bone fragments that hadn't shown up on the MRI in her spinal canal that they found once the operation began.  Even so, the operation was significantly shorter then we expected and when I saw her late this afternoon, she seemed like she was doing great, especially for someone who just had spinal surgery!

Work:

• Not too much to say other than that today was my first day back (a short day too as I left early to see Eloise and my mom at the hospital) and I'm suddenly really feeling a need for a holiday break -- didn't realize quite the degree to which mine was taken up with surgery and recovery.  This is very spoiled sounding as I only work two days a week on campus, but it's going to be a really rough month.  Paul and I have talked about taking a mini-vacation to somewhere like Catalina next month.  That would be really cool.
• Speaking of work, my own research has been ignored / undone since surgery (tummy tuck, not the DS!).  I've got to get back to it.  I want to get back to it. (Repeat 5X.) But I'm also totally dreading the horror that is GETTING back into it.  I'm giving myself a pass until next week because of Eloise and the fact that work is about all my system can handle right now.  But I've got to get back to my own stuff.
• This shouldn't be something I'm stressing about, but my practice is to borrow trouble where ever I can find it.  Paul has been working free-lance the past couple months, moving from project to project.  He earns way more than I do doing that, but I still feel totally stressed by the fact we can't predict our income month-to-month.  I've got to learn to let go of this -- he's very able to support himself (and a share of me come to that) and is in a field where his skills are actually valued.   But I'm such the security junkie!

Me:

• It's been 4.5 weeks since surgery and I'm not yet feeling at full power.  Maybe 75%.  Maybe.  Along the incision lines (which are healing quite nicely), I get little bumps that look like pimples.  I've learned that if I put antibiotic ointment and a bandage on them, in the morning suture line (which looks alarmingly like high test fishing line) is poking out.  Normal and healthy, but it still creeps me out.  I'm such a wuss.
• I need to get into see my surgeon, but have been having trouble reaching anyone at the office.  I found my direct number to her PA today, so hopefully I'll have an appointment by the end of tomorrow.
• I made the choice today to go off the pain meds.  I'm not sure I can hold to it -- there's still a lot of random muscle pain -- but I'm hoping to.  Aside from the other side effects, the pain pills leave me feeling a bit muddled and unfocused.
• Between the cold I had, surgery, and not being able to sleep on my stomach, my lungs are still feeling like crap and I'm having to use my inhaler.  I hate that.
• Reading this over I can tell there's some post-op depression going on here.  I hate that too and know I can't ignore it.  But it just makes me feel pissed off at myself.

Friends:

• Not that I was any great shakes before the tummy tuck, but in the last month I've fallen behind on returning phone calls, emails and getting together with friends.  This seems crazy, but some days even answering email feels way too much to ask.  And yet they join the things left undone pile and leave me feeling bad about that too.
• I value them, but I sure don't treat them like it.

Reading this over, the self-pity makes me want to delete it.  But I also want to let it go.  And so I guess instead of deleting, I'll spread it around a bit.  There have been some good things too (and yeah, I did write about my brother which is great).  Tomorrow will be a post about good things.

Good night!

2007

[Edited to add the following after stealing it from the always too cool Sarah.] 

In the year 2007 I resolve to: Not strip for free anymore. Get your resolution here.

Weight 173

I started 2006 weighing 212 pounds.  This was a decided improvement from the previous year.

I started 2005 weighing 367 pounds. 

But I can't remember the last time I started a new year at under 200.   I know I weighed 140 in 1985.  And I know I was 227 in 1989.  What happened in between is a blur.  This --173-- is definitely my low weight for the last God knows how long. 

There is now 194 pounds less of me than there was at my highest weight. 

I've lost weight since the tummy tuck.  How much I'm not exactly sure, there's still a good amount of swelling, but I can see the loss in my face and (more sadly) my breasts.  It would be cool to end January under 170 with the idea of losing another 20 in the next 6 months.  I'm hoping to get cleared to go back to the gym by February.

Plans for 2007?

• Finish my dissertation.  I'm so ready not to be a graduate student anymore.
• Get ready to go on the job market next Fall.  See above.
• Re-join Easton gym as soon as heavier working out is allowed. 
• Be better about being tidy / organized around our apartment.
• Working car by the end of the year.  Again, see above.
• Be better about my skin care routine and try and get my eczema to go into remission.

Random good things?  I went to Starbucks today and discovered they have a new sugar free syrup option called "Cinnamon Dulce."  It's heavenly and I seriously recommend it.

And to those of you who've made this trip with me, whether you've come lately or been here for going on three years now, thank you for reading and happy new year!