Cleaning House

I know I've been missing in action here in blogland. The holidays are taking a lot out of me: there was all the cleaning before Thanksgiving; at work doing a lot of work ahead of time to prepare for my days off; all the work and preparation on the actual day; cleaning up afterward; visiting with relatives in from Annapolis; my daughter and I catching a cold; then continuing to clean and decorate for Christmas.

I do feel like I've been in a haze, a holiday haze: going through all the boxes in the attic, lugging down the artificial tree (I just can't justify chopping down a living tree every year, plus the expense of them) and all the lights, ornaments and other decorations. On Friday I did a commando shopping trip, bouncing from store to store like a ball in a pinball machine. Over this past weekend I've been working on the Christmas cards; I send about 50, and it involves looking up addresses, signing them all, and yesterday I had a photo shoot with Mabel and the dogs that was incredibly difficult to coordinate.

This past week I've been a woman on a mission: I got sick of my husband and I snipping at each other about our disorganized basement (that I'm still waiting on him to remodel) and decided that something had to be done. Since I'll die an old woman before he would ever organize the stuff down there, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. On Thursday evening I spent a couple of hours on it, and Saturday morning I attacked it again. Even though Hubby swears someday he's going to build more shelves and give me more storage, for now I did the best with what I had, and it looks so much better.

In addition, knowing that bad weather was on its way Saturday night and Hubby would not have any time to do it because of deer hunting, I decorated the front porch for Christmas, too. He claims he's going to put more lights up on the shrubs, etc., I didn't want the front of our house completely dark until Dec. 24th.

Finally, I got sick of asking my husband several times to clean the dog poop out of the back yard and did it myself. It must have been at least a month since this was last done, and I spent at least an hour trying to pry frozen dog turds out of the grass. Mabel helped me clean the other (non-poop) garbage/dog destruction out of the yard, and in addition to my two big buckets of fecal matter, we also amassed a garbage can and a big box full of destroyed dog toys and chewed up wooden lattice from our deck.



Even after that I still wasn't done. I kicked the dogs out of the kitchen and thoroughly cleaned it, too. By the end of the day I was exhausted. I was achy and sore and all I wanted to do was curl up in my comfy chair and watch the season finale of Torchwood. Of course, Hubby came home all full of energy and wanted to go Christmas shopping in Pittsburgh -- which is over an hour away from our home! There was no way I was leaving the house at 6 p.m. and fighting the Christmas shopping crowds after slaving in that house all day.



Lately I feel more like a maid or servant than anything else. There are so many obligations placed upon me; I find myself forced to do so much endless "grunt" work because no one else will. I seem to be inheriting the fate of my mother and her mother, taking on the brunt of all the household responsibilities because the husbands in our lives don't take on what we feel is their share.

Okay, my husband cooks dinner. That's great, and a lot of wives probably envy that. But I'm not sitting around eating bon bons while he cooks. I'm setting the table, getting out condiments, drinks, etc. I usually help carry serving bowls to the table, too, and have to run back to the kitchen because he rarely remembers to bring serving utensils. And once the meal is over, my family instantly vanishes, leaving me to clear and clean the table, put the food away, then wash the dishes, clean the stove top and counters and put everything (kitchen gadgets, spices, ingredients, etc.) back in their places. You can tell he learned to cook in restaurant kitchens and is used to having dish washers take care of everything: in a regular meal he uses several different knives, multiple pots and pans, bowls and sheet pans, then puts the finished meal in separate serving dishes. When he does actually put his tools in the sink he never rinses anything, so by the time I get there all the sauces, cheese, etc., is dried on them, or else he stacks the sink to overflowing and loads up the top item with water, which then topples over and spills all over the kitchen when I'm trying to empty it. There are times I feel like telling him not to cook dinner any more because it seems to make more work for me than if I cooked myself.

I know I sound resentful, like the stereotypical wife who feels overburdened and under appreciated by her family. I'm not writing this to martyr myself to the world, although sometimes I do feel that way, I admit. I do try to voice my needs and my desire for help, but the usual response is "I'll get to it," yet hours or days later I still wind up doing it myself.

The good thing about this past week and getting so fired up about tackling these projects is that it gets me moving and energized. I have less time to sit around and eat; instead of sitting around brewing on my emotions and thinking about binge eating, I'm working off these feelings with scrubbing, lifting and other chores.

My eating still isn't great; the holiday season has brought lots of high calorie foods into the house and they're hard to resist. But at least I'm not sitting for hours ingesting them all until I'm bloated and sick.

Again, sorry for the absence here on the blog. But rest assured, I haven't been idle. I've been thinking a lot as I vacuum, dust and organize, and I'll try to relate those revelations here as I find time.

To Be Like Paula

I've noticed, as well as been told by some readers, that the photos on my blog have been pretty gruesome lately (mourning, gallows, Lizzie Borden), so I'm trying to perk things up around here to fit my rejuvenated feeling.

On Monday I made myself a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch and sat down in front of the TV. There's not a lot on at 1 p.m., but if I can't find anything else I always have my stand-by, Paula Deen. Her show was about one-pot meals, and at the end of the show her husband Michael Groover came into the kitchen to sample some of her recipes. It's so obvious they have a fun relationship that involves a lot of laughter.

I've always liked Paula Deen, even though back in my dieting days there were very few of her recipes that I would even think of making. This woman loves her butter and cream, and she doles them out liberally in her food. But even then I found her charming, funny, self-effacing and such a flirt with the men! Now granted, I know this is the image she portrays on television and I have no idea how she is in her day-to-day life, but she sure seems genuine to me. Not to mention I think she has the prettiest hair and eyes.

I sat there on Monday watching her and thought to myself that she definitely has some traits I would like to develop in myself. I'm not saying I want to start talking with a Southern accent and buying my butter in 50-pound vats! She just seems so comfortable in her skin, so confident and at ease with herself. I am a little aware of her past and that at one point in her life she suffered from agoraphobia. But she seems to have recovered from that and has made a true success of her life.

The last two days my eating has been great. I'm not counting calories, but I am staying aware of portion sizes as it pertains to the amount of food it takes to satisfy me. I'm not eliminating any foods, but I am looking at the nutrients in my food and seeking a balance of different food groups. Last night for dessert I got out a Hershey's Special Dark chocolate bar and realized after eating half of it that I didn't want any more, so I put the rest in a sandwich bag for another time.

Yesterday morning I got back to my gym and did 20 minutes each on the treadmill and the stationary bike. Then I went to my yoga class in the afternoon and we had a great time doing some different poses. I got home and went back to work on my Room of Doom, which is coming along well. The more I go through boxes and get things organized the better I feel. My life feels less chaotic and definitely more productive. And that evening it carried over to the rest of my house and I puttered around decluttering and tidying things up.

I may not be forming a restaurant-cooking empire like Paula Deen, but I think in my own small way I'm becoming more fulfilled in my life and making it more the way I want it to be.

Another Door Opens

It's snowing this morning. I knew it was coming -- it is November in Appalachia, after all -- but I still didn't really want it to come. While snowflakes are pretty and I love seeing the landscape covered in white, there are a lot of things about winter I'm not crazy about. Already my hands are drying out on me; ever since I lost weight I get cold so easily and have to bundle up much more than I used to (even with this current regain); plus I have a real fear of ice after my fall a few years ago that shredded my poor left knee. And let's not forget the joys of shoveling snow! Although I've heard predictions that this winter is supposed to be mild, so maybe I won't have to dig myself out of my house every day for the next six months -- and won't have to wear three layers of clothing just to keep from shivering!

Thanks to all who offered words of support yesterday. The funny thing is, while I was writing about mourning, I don't really feel that sad. Maybe it's the Wellbutrin doing it's job, but I'm feeling rather positive and good about myself right now, in spite of the regain. The signs are there: I'm putting on makeup and jewelry on a daily basis; I'm exercising regularly again; I'm tackling jobs I've procrastinated about for ages. I look at myself in some of the new clothes I've bought, check out my hair that I've been growing out for months, and I actually think I look pretty good.

It makes me think of this quote from Helen Keller: "When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us." Instead of concentrating on the closed door -- the one that included entrance into the Onederfuls -- I'm finally seeing this new door and walking through it.

For example, I am finally tackling my Room of Doom (thank my friend SS for that name), the office/den. Since we moved in last December (!!!) I have been putting off organizing this room, and all the den/office boxes have been sitting in the attic, waiting for me. This past Saturday, after saying à bientôt to my "skinny" clothes, I took a look at that pile of boxes and decided that yes, it was finally time. On Saturday the main job was just going through the boxes upstairs to see what was there. My first discovery was that the multitude of boxes was deceiving; my husband, in his usual" flying by the seat of his pants" method of packing his things, just threw random crap in boxes, and a lot of his them weren't even a third full! So I did a lot of consolidating and greatly reduced the number of boxes. Just doing this step made the process seem much less intimidating and overwhelming.

Yesterday afternoon I started tackling the book shelves that are in the Room of Doom. These have been filled in a chaotic way with a lot of nonsensical stuff that just got thrown there when we moved in, and this mess has continued to grow as we just laid things here and there instead of putting them in their proper place. I found a lot of things I've been trying to find for months as well as things I had completely forgotten about. And I found plenty of things that should have just been thrown in the garbage can, which is where they went. I only managed to bring one box of books down from the attic to put on the shelves, but the big accomplishment of the day was to actually clear the shelves and realize how much room I actually have to finally display some of my most treasured books. So hopefully I can get some more time this week to keep working on this!

Here's another discovery: the more I get involved like projects like this, or doing my counted cross stitch, the less I'm compulsively overeating, or more importantly, want to. Because I've realized as I'm taking this Wellbutrin that it is not a cure-all magic pill. Even though it helps reduce compulsive thoughts and decreases my appetite some, I can still binge eat while on it if I don't do the cognitive-behavioral work.

The trouble I was having before was that even when I'd try to occupy myself with housework or needlework, with all the books I was reading and feeling exercises and therapy I was doing, my brain was still thinking about food constantly and my cravings were still haunting me around the clock. Now, if I can get myself busy or just get myself in a peaceful, conscious state, I can completely forget about food and eating, which is something I've never been able to do before. It seems like I've finally got the right combination of tools -- pharmaceutical and psychological -- to really be able to succeed with Intuitive Eating.

I realize I never updated you all on my doctor's appointment last Thursday. My weight was up, although not as high as my scale at home said, but the doctor didn't berate me for it. She was a little concerned about my blood pressure, though; it's not high, but at that borderline zone, which makes me unhappy because at the beginning of the year I had it down to 110/70 or something like that. I know it's due to the weight gain and not exercising regularly, as well as the stress and depression I've dealt with, but both the doctor and I think my improved mood, thanks to the Wellbutrin, and renewed motivation will allow me to turn this around.