Friends in Low Places

Jan12

 

I had high hopes of being able to announce, today, that I’d finally broken through my low. Alas, no — one pound stands between me and my low weight. That’s not much in the grand scheme of things; much better, in fact, than the position I was in several months back, so I have faith that some future blog very soon will be screaming about finally breaking into new territory.

I’m actually quite thankful to be this close and in this position just a couple weeks after the holidays; I managed to keep them fairly in check. We all know someone — perhaps even you — that hopped on a diet just a couple weeks ago, not only to get those holiday pounds back off, but perhaps achieve more weight loss than that.

Soooooooon.

There are plenty of people that have already given up on their efforts. Go to practically any gym in the country during the week after January 1 and you’ll see how packed they are with new members, hoping to get their lives in order. A month later, these numbers will have dropped off substantially.

When I made the commitment over four years ago to give it another try, I wasn’t enthusiastic about my chances of staying on a longterm diet, but I also knew myself well enough to take steps that would increase my chances of success. They include:

I made progress videos. These are for my eyes only. I recorded them with messages to my future self, so I wouldn’t forget the things I’ve struggled with, so I’d keep hold of the dreams I had at those moments in time. I have not made one in quite some time since I’ve recorded the videos at certain weight loss milestones, but I am very near one, now. Personally, I know how easy it is to convince myself that I’m just fine where I am, but stating the truth of my life on video has been an extremely emotional process that has kept me grounded.

I made myself accountable. That’s why I created this blog, after all. It took some guts to admit to the world — and especially to myself — the state I was in when I took my first steps toward better health. After all, how on earth can you know where you’re going, if you don’t know where you’re starting? Being in denial about my weight and health only got me deeper in a hole I’ve spent years climbing back out of.

I surrounded myself with support. This is one of the most important things I did for my own mental wellbeing. I am not a joiner by nature; I tend to try to do things alone. This is indelibly tied to accountability, though; when I have felt like dropping out of view because things haven’t gone well, friends who care have been there to remind me that this is just a detour in the journey. Whether it’s a kind word or a group sharing of ideas for change, being among like-minded people who care is one of the most generous gifts you can give yourself: don’t be alone.

So here I stand, a pound above my low. I could be frustrated that it didn’t happen; after all, this is far from the first time I’ve come this close to finally setting a new low during the past 8 months of weight loss plateau. Instead, I feel both fortunate to be surrounded by people who support me, even when I stumble, and I know with confidence that I’ll be sharing good news with you, soon.

 

Roundabout

Jan5

 

I’ll be honest. I don’t know what to write, this week, so I’ll just tell you where I’m at.

It’s no secret I’ve been dealing with a long plateau. I once had a 2.5-year plateau and then finally just gave up trying to break it and ate all the things, regaining all of the 140.5 pounds I’d lost on that particular journey, and probably about 35 pounds or so more. I was tired of trying to figure out what was going on, felt like I’d deprived myself for far too long for no good reason, and gave in to the “it isn’t fair!” cry in the back of my head.

So needless to say, those things are on my mind, now. I’ve learned to turn down the volume of that insidious “it isn’t fair!” cry, but occasionally, the volume increases and I have to address it.

Like the longest plateau, I started seeing my weight creep up. I lied to myself about whether or not what I was doing was detrimental. At one point, I was up 25 pounds, and then (perhaps quite fortunately) I was refused knee surgery because of my weight, and it got me angry.

GIF visual of a weight loss plateau

Not that I didn’t get angry while I was on that very long plateau years ago, but this time, the difference is that my anger drove me to re-evaluate what I’m doing and why it wasn’t working. Before, I just stubbornly kept on the same path, and my journey started looking like I’d been caught in a huge traffic circle; I finally jumped off at the wrong exit and that was the end of what had been a very successful journey.

Journeys in the interim were moderately successful, but I just didn’t have the heart to stay on them long term. There’s only so much personal beating up you can stand before you just numb yourself with food, and I did that a couple of times.

I know all that is depressing to read, but I promised transparency when I first started this blog, and at times, I’ve strayed from it, so I feel it’s best to be honest about things now. The important thing is that unlike my earlier trials, I’ve done some crucial work on my own mindset, and it’s brought me to a different place; a mentally healthier one.

Instead of anger over the unfairness of being given a particularly tough go of it leading to frustration and then surrender, I’ve turned that anger back into what it should have been in the first place: being a scientist on my own behalf and actually evaluating myself for the possibility of change.

I am close to being off the infernal roundabout, and I know which exit to take. I am hovering just above my low weight after battling through the holidays. I am looking forward, again, to seeing the number on the scale each morning. I am confident my lot will change, soon, and holding firm.

The biggest change I see in my current circumstances over all the times I’ve thrown in the towel, before, is my mindset. I have far too much to lose and everything to gain by continuing to work on my own mental strength. So, I leave you with this: soon. Keep watching this space.

 

This Is Me

Dec29

 

Another year nearly gone. Where does the time go?

This year has taught me much about my body, my abilities, my mental processes. As my fourth complete year on a trek toward better health draws to a close, these highlights come to mind:

I said goodbye to using a cane — for good. Not only that, but it’s the year I seriously started walking, again. I started last February or March… I forget, now. I walked around my backyard. Getting 1,000 steps in a day was a major accomplishment.

While I’m not exactly running marathons, I easily reach 5K steps in a day, now. I do need to recommit myself to walking in a more structured manner, so this is a reminder to me that every step matters. Just a few days ago, my FitBit program told me I’d walked 500 miles. Imagine that! It all truly starts with one step.

I decide who I am. No one else.

I dealt with a longterm plateau. And I still am, but things are looking up. I’m retraining my eating habits and while I am still lingering just a couple of pounds above my low, I’ve lost weight I regained. Even here after Christmas, with a few indulgences under my belt, I’m not lamenting snug clothes or feeling bloated.

I am close to breaking this plateau; I was within one pound just last week, before the advent of company and traveling. I know it’s within my power, now, and I feel firmly back in control. Expect me to break this plateau soon! I am ending the year weighing less than I did when I started it, and that is always a success.

I recovered from bad news. When I had to fight for a surgery date, I struggled mentally with what I saw as an injustice. It still is, to a point; BMI is complete hooey and was never meant to be used as a medical requirement. I am positive that insurance companies are totally in love with the idea of classifying people by BMI, because it benefits them financially to do so.

Regardless, I was faced with the decision to give up or fight. And I’m not giving up. Not when I have come this far.

It also taught me something about myself and how I need to overcome exterior hurdles. To this point, just about all the constraints I had were ones I put on myself. Adapting was necessary. Was I up to the task? For a while, I really wasn’t sure. But I took the advice of my surgeon and I’m getting better results. It pays to get my ego out of the way.

I faced challenges. Many of my challenges this year weren’t actually my own; today is the one year anniversary since my husband had an accident that resulted in two knee replacements — when it was originally going to be my year. I had to put that aside and be there for my husband’s recoveries. I had to be the strong one; the ass kicker at times.

I have spent so many years being the one with the lesser physical abilities that it struck me as a complete reversal to be the stronger one. How the heck did that happen? But it also gave me a unique perspective as a caregiver. While my inabilities were not from surgery, I know what it is to be restricted, what it takes to overcome it, how to function in those situations.

I defined myself. This is one of the biggest battles we all face: who are we? Who do we let define us?

The answer, for me, is that I define myself — I will not live with how others choose to define me. I’ve done that for far too much of my life, and as I look back at stages of my life, I realize how much I allowed that to happen. How unhappy I was. It had little to do with weight; that was only a symptom.

I have big hopes for the year ahead, not the least of which is the ability to look back a year from now and know I have made even greater strides toward health. One of the biggest accomplishments of this past year is settling into who I am, with no apologies, and I plan to continue that.

This is me.

 

Yesterday Once More

Dec22

 

It’s not just the time of year for decorations and parties — it’s also the season for cleaning. I know I’m not alone in this, and I admit that I do a lot of “throw that in a box/drawer/closet” and then I forget about it. Every few… er… decades, I decide to go through everything and really see if it’s something that still needs to live here.

It usually ends up as a trip down Memory Lane as I sort through everything from old photos to old software. Do I really need Microsoft Student 2006? Nope. I have not just *one* but *two* vintage copies of Oregon Trail, if anyone’s interested. Win98, no less. There’s also any number of pens that I set aside to check and see if they still work, nail polish that probably coagulated during the second Bush administration, and bad poetry that I wrote in high school and afterward.

Yep, I put my weight loss on the top row. 😀

Some things I keep, and will always keep, like the 15-Puzzle that Elmer Deschauer gave me when I was a kid; he was an old man that lived in my neighborhood and many of the neighborhood kids would stop by and chat with him, and listen to his stories. (Times have changed — unfortunately. This is one thing I don’t think we’ll ever get back.) He would give me small gifts to take home, and I still have a few of them, especially the puzzle. My mother has a bud vase he gave me, too. I recently looked up the puzzle and it dates back to the 1930’s.

As I get older, the things I value change with me, and this has also been the case with my own journey toward health. I’ve had to sort through and discard old notions and ideas that didn’t serve me well. Things that stopped working, things I wanted to cling to but weren’t good for me, things that have become long outdated.

Things I thought I’d never discard have ended up in my emotional trash, and I didn’t even realize they were gone. I found a photo that must be at least 30 years old; my husband was dressed up as Santa and I was on his lap. Poor guy. Here I am in my mid-50’s, and I look better, feel better, and weigh substantially less than I did, back then.

This journey amazes me at moments like this — looking back, I left a great deal of myself behind, thinking that was expected of me as an adult — and here I am, decades later, rediscovering and embracing those things I thought were lost forever. My ability to write, my musical roots, camping, getting out and walking, adventuring.

Some things are worth discarding and never revisiting, again. (*ahem* VHS tapes!) And some things? Surprisingly, they never leave us; we just need to nurture them and let them bloom.

 

Feelin’ Stronger Every Day

Dec15

 

I’ve had a couple of big weekends lately. First, there was my costume pirate foray; FYI, my husband thinks for some insane reason that I will now develop a penchant for dressing up. He’d be wrong. BEYOND wrong, but that wasn’t the point of the post, anyway. Sorry, hubby! 😉

Last weekend, I dressed up again — this time in black concert dress. I am part of a volunteer orchestra, and we had our annual holiday concert last Sunday afternoon. Friends, I am not friendly with shapewear, but I tolerated it for a few hours. I’m not sure which I enjoyed, more: the concert itself, or getting home and being able to… ahem… become unrestricted in delightful ways.

No, really — I enjoyed the concert, more. As much as I looked forward to the performance, though, I was also mightily surprised. I was being recognized for working behind the scenes with the orchestra.

Dang straight!

Honestly, I prefer behind the scenes work. I don’t do it for recognition, although it’s nice to be appreciated. The words said on my behalf included a lot of things about me; that I play horn, that I contribute technical skills, that I am working on a book. All of these things are true. The one thing not mentioned — thank goodness — was my weight loss.

Although it’s one of the major accomplishments of my life, I am glad that it’s also not something I’m widely known for. When I lost 140 pounds a decade ago, that seemed to be what people knew me by best; I was that woman who lost all that weight. And unfortunately for me, I wasn’t really known by much else. Oh, sure, people knew me by my career choice, but other than that? I didn’t have much of an identity, outside of my work and my weight loss. That was the case on a personal level, too — while I wrote on occasion, I didn’t take it all that seriously. I was wife, mother, business owner, weight loss woman.

These expansions of my own personal goals are both a byproduct of having approached weight loss with a full body and mind discipline, and also a reason for my success. When all I had to call my own was my progress with weight loss, it was very easy to become obsessed with it, and frankly, depressed when I didn’t see results. My world was very closed off.

Now, my life is about so much more. I am constantly busy with things that bring me joy and improve my own quality of life. While it probably seems a bit ironic to be writing a weight loss blog about not wanting to be known for weight loss, that’s exactly what this is about. Sure, I’ve struggled with weight loss over recent months (and, by the way, I’m finally seeing some progress, so stay tuned!), but it’s not the emotional tsunami it was, before, because I have so many other things in my life for which I am truly grateful. Those things fulfill me, regardless of the number on the scale.

My definitions have changed, and my relationship with my body and mind along with them. Success and failure are matters of perspective and lessons learned, rather than devastating events. When you feel good about yourself, it’s much easier to put the occasional snafus in perspective.

A decade ago, I gave myself the gift of weight loss. This journey, I’ve given myself the gift of relearning how to live a full and happy life, which is infinitely more valuable.

 

Whole Lotta Woman

Dec7

 

This past weekend, my husband and I attended an annual Christmas party event that included dressing asking attendees to dress up as pirates. Those of you that know hubby also know that he’s got a penchant for costumes. I don’t.

He finds dressing up in costumes fun. He’s been a pirate a few times, now. Over the years, at various events, he’s been Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, a beer keg, and most often, a leprechaun. There are probably a few costumes I’m missing, and I’m sure he’ll fill me in after he reads my blog. 😉

Aaaargh!

As for me, though — I used to wear costumes on occasion. I once won a costume contest at work, dressed as Mae West, back when I had curves in the right places. I also used to be a member of a craft guild, and historical dress at events was encouraged. As someone who was in band for many years growing up, I also wore tuxes, black dresses, and a variety of band uniforms; believe me, uniform makers back in the 70’s and 80’s didn’t make good options for those of us with curves, and back then, I was a normal size.

Now, though? Hubby kept after me about dressing up as a pirate, and I finally made my own secret plans. I went as outrageous as possible, and told him flat out that if no one recognized me, I had accomplished my goals. As it was, there were a few folks who didn’t, so I considered it a success.

On the way to the party, hubby asked me why it is that I don’t like dressing up in costume. The simple answer is that when you spend much of your life as the largest person in any room, the last thing you want to do is attract attention, even if that reason is no longer for being large. Having that attention makes me uncomfortable.

Being very large brings with it both attention for being large, with (hopefully!) silent judgment, and a certain level of invisibility once people have dismissed you. I would prefer to exist somewhere in the middle: noticed without judgment, existing without disappearing afterward. I’d simply prefer not to draw attention; in my mind, attention and judgment still go hand in hand.

I’ll admit I had fun with the costume. (Note to husband: this does not mean I’ll do it again!)

On a related note, I’ve been attending this particular party for four years, now. The first year, I ambled in at nearly my full weight, and sat in a corner; I didn’t know anyone because we were new members. Year 2, I was in a travel wheelchair so we could move around without me imposing a limit. Year 3 — I had progressed to a cane and was able to get around on my own; I even danced a little bit. And Year 4, this past Saturday, I entered the doors with no cane, pulled my own weight, danced, and even wore low heels. Who knows what next year will bring?

 

Blinded Me With Science

Nov30

 

One of the cornerstones I have managed to drift away from over the past four years of my effort to improve my health is the simple idea of being a scientist on my own behalf.

I haven’t totally strayed from that concept; I know what has worked for my body in the past. I know how my body reacts to certain things. And I try to keep up with the latest information out there as it relates to my own particular set of circumstances.

For all the work I’ve done, I tend to get a bit defensive if someone suggests I should be doing something different, but when that advice came from a medical professional, I paid a bit more attention — and, albeit a bit begrudgingly, I decided that it wouldn’t hurt me to get back to embracing science. After all, the information I was getting was from someone I respect as a scientist, and he hasn’t led me wrong in the past.

He recommended a book, and I’ve been reading it. As a scientist on my own behalf, I’ve found myself agreeing with much of what’s been said. Enough so that I actually bought the second book from the same author, and I read a little bit each day, in hopes that this information might just be the key to breaking my weight loss plateau.

I’m gonna science the crap out of my body.

I’m not trying to tease you, but I’m not going to share the name of the book here; I may, in the future, if my own experiences in adapting my journey are successful.

I will share, however, some of the information that had me nodding in agreement; information that many experts have claimed as gospel, but has not worked for me, personally.

For instance — not all calories are the same. I have been convinced of this for a long time; calorie restriction, by itself, is not an effective method for weight loss, regardless of the common theme of “eat less, move more”. It’s just not that simple. What those calories consist of, and how my particular set of circumstances uses those calories, is of the utmost importance. This is universally true, and there are a number of authentic scientific studies that have backed up this idea, but they’re not the popular ones that support whatever the diet industry is trying to sell at the moment.

Another example: all diets eventually fail. Every diet out there will work — to a point — but many rely on basal metabolic rate (BMR) to stay the same, but it doesn’t. We’re evolved beings, but we’ve evolved for survival, and lowering food intake makes our bodies conserve resources when we’re hoping to expend them. Adding exercise makes no difference to this.

Related to this, large-scale studies have shown that the success rate of taking off weight and keeping it off, long-term, is very small; less than 1%, in fact. In 1995, no state had above a 20% obesity rate; in 2015, no state had below a 20% obesity rate. Times have changed, and in many ways, easy commercialism has added to our collective weight issues.

Knowing things like this might make anyone want to just trash their diet and jump off it for good. But not me. There are methods included that make sense, and it’s a small adaptation of what I’m currently doing, so I’m giving it a try. Even a 1% chance is enough of a chance for me to stick it out — because going back to where I was, yet again, simply is not an option I’m willing to consider.

That 1% chance is exactly why I’m writing this, today. All of us, in some way, can be exceptions to the rule; all of us are among the 1% of the population that has a certain characteristic, whether it’s a hobby, a career choice, a physical characteristic. For instance, 1-2% of the population has red hair, but just about all of us know someone with red hair. Short of coloring my hair (shhhhh!), I can’t change that percentage, but hobbies and careers are chosen, regardless of rarity, and physical characteristics, like weight, can be changed.

Being in the 1% — that’s my goal, and I will remain a scientist on my own behalf until that goal is achieved.

 

Thank You

Nov24

 

I’m thankful for a lot of things this season — and these years I’ve spent investing in my health.

I’m thankful for being able to walk. Not too long ago, I could only walk with a great deal of pain. If I needed to walk any distance, my husband pushed me in a portable wheelchair. Even when I got better, I walked with a cane. I’m thankful, now, for being able to walk without assistance, and for fair distances — I don’t walk marathons, but I can cope like a fairly normal person.

No, really. Thank you!

I’m thankful for feeling so much better than I used to feel. I don’t live my days in pain; not anymore. Nor do I live them in depression, feeling bad that I have not achieved the things I set out to do. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I used to feel for myself, feeling fat and unloved, and yet powerless to change those feelings.

I’m thankful for being able to eat a Thanksgiving meal (or two, as the case may be, because Friday is Friendsgiving!) and knowing that I can, with confidence, return to where I was before eating large meals. I know now that what I do in the short term matters less than what I do in the long term — I can, on occasion, enjoy a meal as a treat. I may pay the consequences, but I know what they are before making the decision.

I’m thankful for my friends who have helped me over the numerous hurdles, even when I have resisted their advice. That includes my orthopedic surgeon. I’ve been studying information he’s given me and it makes a ton of sense. It’s never too late to adjust the journey. Sometimes you just have to take a different route than what you planned on, and it works out.

And finally, I’m thankful for the world that’s opened up to me since committing to change. My life is far different than it was when I started this journey, and it’s definitely more joyful and satisfying. Taking this journey has meant endless discovery; not only in figuring out who I am, now, but in becoming more me than I have been in a very long time. Being authentically me is the best gift I can ever give myself, and I am grateful to those of you who have been on this journey with me. Thanks for being there.

 

I Hope You Dance

Nov17

 

It’s no secret, by now, that my weight loss has been at a plateau for a good six months. And six months can seem like an eternity.

I know there are likely a certain number of my readers that aren’t interested in my blogs unless I’m talking specifically about having lost more weight; everyone loves a success story. We’re drawn to them like moths to light. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t publicly post photos of my progress; on the Internet, there are plenty who would steal progress photos to misrepresent a product or diet. There are even more who would take the opportunity to use a photo of an obese woman to scorn or mock.

(Don’t worry. When I feel I am at a point in my journey where it’s appropriate, I’ll post more than headshots.)

There’s also a certain number of folks who think that if you’re on a weight loss journey and your loss isn’t at a constant, you’re a failure. And frankly, while waltzing across a six-month plateau, I get the niggling feeling at times that I may not be able to progress past where I am at this moment.

Most of actual steps, not stunt steps.

Sure, that concerns me, but not enough to throw my hands up in the air and just say screw it and go back to my old habits. Every day is a choice, and choosing to willingly go backward is the wrong choice. Instead, I’m learning more about my body, with the determination to continue moving forward.

In my journey, weight loss is only part of the story, not the whole story. A journey toward better health must be comprehensive; sure, I’d love to look great in a dress, but more importantly, I want to feel good, move with confidence, improve my lifestyle, discover new capabilities, and live life to my fullest. It’s easy to let the scale be the only focus, at times; and while it’s important to include that as one of the indicators of moving in the right direction, it is, by far, not the most important.

This weekend, I’m on an annual writer’s retreat with a dear friend. (*waves to dear friend!*) The cabin we stay in every year is at the bottom of a hill, directly on the lake; the porch is on stilts over the water. Both of us have to carry our things down a long series of steps to get to the cabin.

The first year I came here, I really struggled with those steps. It took me forever to go up and down them. Imagine carrying a couple bags of concrete, and that’s what I felt like — without even carrying my things. Moving forward a couple years to last year, I was extremely proud of the progress I’d made in handling those steps.

And then there’s this year. Last week, I injured my knee, and it took the better part of a week for it to return to a normal enough state for me to feel confident enough to take the steps. My friend even offered (okay, insisted) that she carry my things down for me; she’s much more fit than I am. But I beat her to the cabin, and I decided I’d give the steps a try.

Mind you, because of variances in my weight at the moment, I’m roughly 15 pounds less in weight than I was this time last year.  (I’ve weighed less.) But I’ve been walking, and I really hadn’t realized how much of a difference that made until I took the steps. Down with a load; no problems. Up, towing an empty cooler on wheels (hey, yes, I cheated a bit, thanks to my hubby for the tip), no problems; just perhaps a 30 second catch-my-breath moment halfway up to the parking lot. Second trip down, no big deal. Trip back up with my friend to go to dinner later? All the way to the top with no stops, somewhat out of breath.

Last year, it took me the better part of an hour to fetch everything, including breaks to rest. I didn’t need to do that this time, and I also took fewer trips. I certainly wasn’t Rocky Balboa running the streets of Philly (I hope I have that movie reference right!), but my fitness level this year far exceeds even last year. And that matters — a lot.

I still harbor thoughts of taking myself out of things because of perceived discomfort or the possibility of not being able to do something, but I’m more of a risk taker these days. These may be small risks in the light of what normal people do on a daily basis, but the more I do them, the more they become my normal. It is, as they say in the diet world, a huge non-scale victory (NSV).

As a follow-up to last week, I’m happy to report that I’m moving forward with plans to increase my ability to walk. I’m breaking in a new brace that will hopefully extend my abilities while stabilizing my knee in the interim between now and surgery. While I’m not crazy about having to use another brace, since this is my third one, I’m willing to do what it takes to get me further to my goals.

I’m not gonna sit it out. I’m gonna dance.

 

Fighter

Nov9

 

Folks on Facebook are familiar with the term Throwback Thursday, where people post pics from their past. It’s usually meant in fun.

I had a Fallback Wednesday, and it wasn’t a fun one. Nor was it on Facebook.

It was in my own back yard, during my morning walk with Bonnie, my dog. We have a normal path we take before breakfast; her, so she can do her morning thing. Me, to put in a few steps before breakfast. We’re fully into fall weather, now; it was brisk out, first thing in the morning, with plenty of newly fallen leaves to kick through — which is what I inadvertently did.

Stunt leaves that may or may not look like leaves in my yard.

It wasn’t anything more than nudging a stick with my toe in passing, but that’s all it took to push my knee out of alignment. When that happens, I can’t straighten my knee and I can’t put weight on it. To complicate things further, I was wearing a new brace that had partially slid out of place (and might have contributed a bit). So there I was, standing on one leg like a ticked off flamingo, leash in hand with a dog ready to take on the rest of our walk, 50 feet from the door.

It might as well have been 50 miles at that moment.

I haven’t had this happen, lately, except for a couple little minor skirmishes. I had convinced myself that building muscle around my knees has helped, as well as losing close to 150 pounds. And they have; the number of incidents of my knee locking up like this has gone down considerably, and it had been many months since I’d dealt with even the hint of it, so this caught me completely off-guard. I managed to hobble into the house, but between aggravating it and not being able to straighten it for several hours, I’ve been dealing with a throwback in time of a kind that I’m certainly not happy about in the least.

I’ve been pretty happy with my progress, doing away with having to use a travel wheelchair, and then a cane, and lately, walking around 6500 steps a day. It took one tiny incident to send me backward to a time when I couldn’t hobble around my own house without some sort of mobility assistance. Add to this, my surgery date has been kicked back six months. Maybe my knee knows I’m going to evict it.

After considerable pain and feeling sorry for myself, I realized that this was my lot every single day just a couple of years ago — and it wasn’t so long ago that I was dependent on a cane just to get around the house, dealt with debilitating pain to the point that I had to take breaks to sit down just to get through washing dishes by hand, and had developed all sorts of ways to get by because of my knees.

Mind you, it’s on the mend, now. I still need to take it easy for a few more days, by the feel of things, but the difference between then and now is huge. I am both physically and mentally stronger than I was just a couple years ago. I laid down to put my knee up, after taking some heavy duty pain reliever, and then got mad for having to do it. I don’t want to be waylaid, when even a couple of years ago, having the excuse to put my feet up for a few days was a welcome thing. Now, it frustrates the hell out of me.

I suppose that’s a good thing, right? It’s a reality check to remember a time when every day brought me pain and difficulty. Now, it’s a hiccup, not a way of life. I just made the commitment last week to get a new brace to support my knee so I can increase my steps — and then this? Oh, nope! I’m not going to let this sideline me. I will continue to fight with everything I’ve got.

 

PS: Just to be clear, it’s not the fault of the brace, although having it move on me while I walked may have contributed. I have experience with braces, so understand the issues at hand.