Calorie Counting Anxiety
Every week in HMR class, we are given assignments. And I have wanted to write about this particular assignment for weeks but get anxious whenever I try to confront it. Today, coming from a class, I finally feel strong enough to share.
Funny. My writing stopped again for 24 hours. See, the assignment that got my nerves in a bundle and me from writing? We had to log calories in addition to what MR we were eating. I became aware of what I was trying to forget.
The first week on HMR, I kept calculating calories. But it was all in my head. Before the end of the week I had committed to memory how many calories each MR was. It took at least another week before I had stopped the mental calculations, to try to embrace the “more is better” and avoid depravation.
So when this assignment was initially given, I was hesitant but committed to it as fully as all of my other class assignments. I refused to give anything less than 100% to my homework.
However as the week went on, I began to notice how hungry I was. Instead of choosing a higher calorie entree, I would opt for a lower calorie one — even though I really wanted the original entree and it was only a fifty calorie difference. I was avoiding having the extra shake, because it was another 160 calories.
The point of the assignment was to figure out water math. And to show us how a few extra MR in order to stay satisfied and “in the box” would not have an adverse impact on our weight-loss. However, even though I knew what the purpose was and I understood the positive elements of the assignment, I found myself restricting my caloric intake to my bare RX of meal replacements. I was starving and cranky and anxious.
I am incredibly good at limiting calories. Initially. But upon reflection, the restricting always ended in a binge. A derailment. And then the end of that bout of dieting. My anxiety over numbers would end in my hands flailing and waving a white flag. I would give in… and then the numbers and the feelings of failure would haunt my dreams.
Doing this assignment brought back the anxiety and the old behaviors, with one exception. Attending class that week and talking to others in my class and to the nurse and health educator… I realized that while I can’t handle the numbers now, I can handle the HMR diet. Because those 50 calories don’t matter in the long run if it keeps me from the 500 I would pick up at a drive-through.
I don’t have to count calories any more. At least not for now. And that relieves a lot of my anxiety. I know there will come a day I will have to live outside of the HMR meal replacement box but by then I will have the tools I need to do so confidently and will be able to face my fears and conquer my restrictive habits. I am working towards a balanced approach to health and I am proud of all that I am learning and doing in the process.
Decision Free
My brain is absolutely overwhelmed right now. I am “Decision Free” but full of decisions.
Confused?
Me too.
After a number of diet attempts. All of the restarts. The downs and ups on the scale (mostly ups). I started to do some research. I reflected. A lot. I knew a change was needed and I knew it needed to happen now.
Doctor visits. Medical tests. All confirmed what I already knew. If I didn’t start losing weight, I was heading down a very dark path.
I like food a lot. I took a hiatus from creating and blogging food recipes on Uncovering Food because I had moved to a more urban neighborhood where every kind of food I desired was right outside of my front door. And explore my neighborhood I did… bite by bite.
I realized I had lost my focus on health, and continued to fight myself. And when we moved to a new apartment and a number of other drastic changes happened around me, I woke up.
After attempting to be the Healthy Academic for so long on my own, I admitted I needed help. Being healthy isn’t just about eating vegetables or running a 5k. Being healthy means caring for your body and ensuring that excess weight doesn’t shut parts of it down. However I realized that with so much going on in my life, my present and my history, I was going to have difficulty staying with another diet-by-my-own-design.
After screenings, meetings, and my first night of class, I am officially an active participant in the HMR Decision Free program through my doctor’s medical network. I plan on writing more about it as we progress but for now I am still overwhelmed with all of my materials and all of the parts of this medically-supervised program…
It took me two weeks to publish this initial post about HMR because I felt like I have given up so much of my identity. I feel like I have to defend my choices to myself, let alone to others. However two weeks into this program, on Thanksgiving Day, I am thankful to myself that I didn’t let pride get in my own way. That I am doing this for my wellness.
The truth of the matter is.
A reflection post.
Today I stood outside in the sun for over four hours. I stood and cheered as thousands of runners raced past. It was an emotional morning. I cheered for runners at the beginning of the journey, near the middle, and near the end. I got to see runners pumped, fledgling, and defeated. I saw them triumph, I saw their pain.
In 2009, I barely made it to the finish line of this race. I had fallen down a flight of stairs about six weeks prior to the race, not that I was in peak physical performance before then, and hurt myself. This was not my first injury, and it would not be my last. However, there was something inside of me that kept me going.
When I reached mile 8 of this race, I was near tears. By mile 9, I was looking for a medic. I sat, I iced my back, and then with ice wrapped to my back with plastic wrap, I walked. The last three miles were some of the slowest and most painful in my life. I cried. I felt alone. And I was so determined to finish what I had started.
Before I got to the finish line, I saw a woman behind me. She waved me down. She said she had been following me for the last couple of miles. That she had wanted to give up but she saw me and she knew if I could do it, so could she. We both attempted to run the last few feet to the finish. We wanted to finish strong.
December of 2009, I completed my second half. I felt strong. I was faster. I wasn’t able to run the full race but even walking, I was proud. I shaved 30 minutes off my time. I knew I was only going to get stronger.
One week later I injured my leg. I spent 2010 trying to recover from this non-running injury (if you are reading this, get your vitamin D levels checked, just trust me). I was planning on running a marathon in October where there was also to be a wedding. Then I planned on walking that marathon. And finally, on doctor’s orders, I was sidelined and cheered. I was happy to be there, but frustrated because I felt like there was more I could have done.
2011 brought on a year of discovery. Injuries from the past were beginning to heal but I had managed to put on so much weight from lack of activity and fear of injury, that becoming active again was difficult. I had lost motivation. I wasn’t eating right, I wasn’t trying to become healthier. I signed up for a half-marathon, with the hope that this would motivate me to get active. To try to recapture what I had felt two years earlier. But internal medical struggles, and my own nonchalance about my health kept me from training properly and fueling per my medical needs.
I started that race strong. But before I had even hit the 5k mark, my stomach was screaming. And as the race went on, I searched for a way to catch a ride back. By the 6th mile, I was crouched on the sidelines, trying not to give up.
After hobbling two more miles, and taking a number of breaks, my stomach finally felt better, but now old structural injuries were flaring because I had been compensating for the digestive pain. However, at this point I wasn’t going to quit. I hobbled through freezing rain and tears to the finish line. I finished and there wasn’t anyone left there to cheer for me. But I finished.
So today, I stayed. I stayed until the vehicle escorting the last three participants passed me. I cheered and I screamed. I knew the frustration in the eyes of those who had started strong and finished. I celebrated the triumph of their completion. I hope they will be able to celebrate it as well.
I am just two months away from that same race that was both my triumph and my defeat. I signed up again because I knew I needed to prove to myself that I can finish strong. But I haven’t done a single training run. I have been taking cardio classes to build my stamina, but my feet and back cry from all of the weight I have put on. I am constantly struggling between motivation and defeat.
It’s hard to get back on the horse. It’s incredibly hard to know what it was like to fly, and feel like you can barely crawl. This year, I may not participate in the race. If I am not ready, I will not go. But today motivated me to try. Because if the people crossing the finish line can do it, then dammit, so can I.
The Healthy Academic 