Julie & Julia and my PCOS

I guess it all began Sunday afternoon. My friend M. dropped me of at my Mami's house after church. When her car went into the driveway I saw that both my pseudo-dad's cars were outside. That meant he was home for a change on a Sunday but I wondered if that meant my mom hadn't gone to church? I called out when I opened the back door and pseudo-dad let me know he was downstairs. He was by himself in the house.
I hadn't eaten since it was Fast Sunday at my church which I well confess was one of the things that prompted me to go to my mom's house instead of mine. It was past two and my mom wasn't home from church herself so I called to see where she was. She told me she was on her way to a baptism and wouldn't be getting home till probably 5. That meant that I would have to do some cooking but that was ok because her house had food unlike mine.
I informed pseudo-dad that my mom wasn't coming home soon. He must have seen the look of hunger in my eye because his next question was "have you eaten lunch?" I answered truthfully and he invited me to Bertucii's. Now I'm not suppose to shop or do any of those things on Sunday due to my religion but I was hungry I didn't feel like coming up with a meal plan and I felt staying at my mom's without her there was pointless. I broke down and decided to go.
Lunch lead to shopping. My phone began to vibrate and my big brother was calling me. Big bro and I never talk on the phone on Sundays. Sundays is a phone free zone day for him. I was surprised but not worried. Until he asked where are you? Big brother was in the ER since he sliced his thumb open with an exacto knife. So I went to their place so my sister-in-law could be with him in the ER and I keep an eye on the baby at their place.
So they could get some rest after a very stressful day I was asked to take the baby for the night. No problem I love my niece she and I love taking naps together and I've been baby hungry for so long that I wanted to know what having a baby over night felt like. The kid was out by 6:30 so life was good. Life was not so good when I learned baby girl moans, cries, laughs, and rolls all over the bed like Tia Lupe does. She then proceeded to wake up at 3 and stayed up till 4:30 and woke back up at 7 (2 hours earlier then I roll out of my bed and I got no sleep to boot).  Even after all that insanity I still wanted a baby, but no marriage no baby.
I got home from work today exhausted. I decided that instead of killing myself cleaning some more that I would get some sleep. So I went to Netflix as I lay in bed and saw what was playing instantly. Julie and Julia was on the list so I hit the play button. As I read the book I realized that Julia Childs had infertility issues. She couldn't have children. There is this beautiful scene that drove me to tears. Julia finds out that her sister who married at an older age like Julia was pregnant. Julia starts crying because she can't have children. I lost it. This stupid PCOS has me wondering if I'll be able to have children some day. The worst part is that I won't be able to know until I start trying and since there is no one to try with aka a husband I won't know anytime soon.
We shall see what happens. 

Who doesn't like a bit of attention?

After many years of not understanding the foreign chromosome gender I finally think I get it. After much wondering what the heck about things that the boys do and questioning the boys that are near and dear I got some answers. First of all much like the Doble X gender boys don't know what they want. Just like I change my mind about what I'm going to wear to work a million times guys change their minds a million times about other things. They're psyche isn't that much different then ours.
Why do they drag out the dates and phone calls and the 'hang outs when they know they aren't interested? The same reason I giggle and act out when near my mami... it's all about the attention. Knowing this I can be a big girl and not get my feelings hurt. Knowing this I can give them some attention get some myself and no one gets hurt the huge mellow drama is avoided.
Who knows maybe while giving attention to get attention something might happen if not at least I had fun.

Runaway dream

Two nights ago I had a dream that I was running through the muddy woods barefoot. This didn't surprise me because I love the feel of my feet on grass or mud. I love to run through forest areas and let the wind hit my face. In the dream I was excited because I was running and I wasn't out of breath. Recently my attempts to run have ended in asthma attacks. I was shocked though as I was running I looked back to see if what I was running away from was catching up to me. I knew two things as I looked back that I was surely running away from someone and that that someone was a male. What surprised me was that I was unsure if I wanted this man to reach me or not. I felt torn between the two decisions to run faster or let him catch me. I woke up from the dream bewildered but I went back to sleep till it was time to get up.
Last night I had another dream. This time I was in the crowded streets of New York City. People were crowded on the side walks and I could see cars and taxis on the streets. I could feel the people surrounding me I could smell their perfumes and colognes and feel their body heat near me. I kept looking around looking for someone in specific but could not see them. I kept running. It wasn't easy to run in this dream. I was wearing 3 inch white pointed toe stiletto heels. The heels weren't what was truly making my run difficult though it was the light blue chiffon dress that I had to keep lifting so it wouldn't get caught on my shoes. Again I felt the same wonderment do I let him catch me or do I keep running.
All my dream interpretation books says that running away from attacker is a sign that I'm avoiding my issues and not taking responsibility for my actions. So it has come to this? After so many years of asking why, the answer is because you've never really truly wanted to. I have to decide if I truly want to do this or if I don't. How come I fear the one thing that I thought I wanted? What are these fears based off of?

A fat girl in a skinny girls body

A co worker walked in with a small bag of stuff and handed the bag to me. I looked in it and it was a few items of clothing so I assumed it was a donation of clothes that needed to be taken care of. Since I don't handle the donations anymore I asked her what they were for. A polite way of saying why are you giving me this. She responded that the jeans were for me that it looked like I was in need of new jeans.
As you may know I have a bit of a clothes addiction. I love clothes and hence I have lots of them and especially jeans. I had no idea what she meant by it seemed like I needed new jeans. I never say no when someone gives me clothes so I took the jeans out and looked at them. These puppies were small. There was no way I was going to fit in those. They obviously came from her pile of clothes not her daughters. My lovely co-worker is the smaller then either of her daughters.
I didn't want to be rude about her gift but I just kept wondering what is she thinking giving me small pants? To not offend but get my point across I asked her "are these yours or your daughters' jeans?" She was honest and told me they were hers. I was honest and told her they weren't going to fit. She put the bag of jeans in my hands and told me in a strong voice I needed to try them on. I know how she gets when she wants something so I went and did it. I kept thinking these things won't go up past my thigh and if they do I won't be able to zip them up.
I went into the bathroom and the jeans went on me like they were butter. They zipped up smoothly. The jeans fit perfectly. I was as skinny as my small co-worker. I walked out and showed her and she smiled.
She told me that she had been noticing that my jeans had been starting to fit rather lose. She told me she had noticed I was getting super tiny again. She told me that she knew I didn't know how skinny I had gotten after fighting so much with my sugar levels and my PCOS. She was right. I could not have believed I was small again.
What is it that causes women to be so critical of our own bodies? I can look in the mirror and point out every imperfection in my body. Even though intellectually I know I have lost so much weight and that I am skinny again emotionally I still feel like the fat girl. I still have emotional scars from all the hurt that I received when I gained all my weight before my diagnosis.
Why is it that as a society we judge people not for whom they are on the inside but what the look like in the outside? Thoughts anyone?

In my last post I talked about my last year or so with PCOS. It ended with me promising to continue on with how things were going.My expectation was that the next blog would be up a week after the last one. Unfortunately I got a bit emotional about it after a small set back.
A day after I put up the last post I had an appointment with my endocrinologist just to get a quarterly check-up. I was feeling so great about my weight loss and what seemed to be great step forwards that I was sure things were going to go well. As I was writing up next post I got a call from her to tell me about my latest lab results.
She began the conversation by starting to say all the good things that had happened in the past. She compared my original lab results to what they were now. She told me how things were in that way significantly better. Then she threw the blow. She said that my numbers had plateaued about 6 months ago. She said that she had upped my medication in hopes that the numbers would go down but that they hadn't. She made one suggestion to make the testosterone level go down again.
To put it mildly the suggestion made me wonder if the woman even read my patient chart. She wanted to put me on my original medications and up the dosage of the original medication I was on. I have to back track for you to understand why this was NOT a good idea. When I was originally put on Metformin my stomach would grumble and make unhappy noises. I never thought anything of it. A month into the medication I got constant diarrhea. I told her about it and she told me that it was normal that I had to bear with it. I did for a few another month and was getting used to it. When she upped my Metformin dosage the first time I couldn't go to work I was constantly sick because of the medication. She changed me to Metformin extended release. The rumbling noises, the diarrhea and having to pray to make it to the bathroom each time all went away. So now she's telling me that she wanted to not just take me back to that but in a higher dosage. I reminded her of why she had put me on extended release.
This is where she as a doctor who had read my chart would have had a back up plan. She got quite for a whole minute. How do I know it was a whole minute? Because I looked at my work clock seeing the seconds tick by as the silence became longer and longer. She finally spoke and said words that I do not want to hear a professional who holds my life in her hands say, "well I don't know what to do". She then repeated this phrase three times. She said she'd call me by the end of the week with a few ideas as she further reviewed my case.
It's been a month and I still haven't gotten that call back. I'm currently looking for another endocrinologist. I've been looking up doctors online and seeing what their patients have to say about them before I commit to a new doctor. I don't want to make the mistake of having a name given to me and putting all my trust on them to hear another I don't know. My health is worth more than that. So when I find a new doctor I will post again on the progress of my PCOS.

I'm fat because of my thryoid problem and other excuses

Early in 2008 I began noticing gain weight for no apparent reason. Although I was not going to the gym anymore I was still exercising. My eating habits had not changed. My habits were all the same but slowly but surely I was gaining weight. I was hitting 30 soon so I just thought I was getting old. Things got worse quick though. I got on my bike one day something I did everyday and had two asthma attacks. It was time to visit my doctor.
The first thing they noticed was my blood pressure was pretty high for someone my age and living my life style. Blood work came back with everything higher then it should be. They decided to do more test. The first thing they thought was that I might have a thyroid problem. I rolled my eyes because I always hated ‘fat’ people who would use their thyroid as an excuse. I got some ultrasounds and no thyroid problem. So then more blood work. Throughout this I kept getting poked and prodded by needles. Each doctor’s appointment sent me to tears. Finally they found what my problem was.
I was diagnosed with PCOS or poly cystic ovarian syndrome. As the name says the disease causes many small cysts in your ovaries. Doctors are not sure why it happens they only have theories. They do know that it can be dangerous for a woman’s health because there are many side effects that affect a woman’s health. The least of these problems is acne. I always had acne but thought it was because I have very greasy skin. The endocrinologist told me that it was in fact my PCOS causing my acne. There’s the abnormal hair growth, something that I had noticed about myself. I always thought that it was hereditary that I had so much body hair. There are more serious issues that happen that I was suffering from. There is of course the weight gain that was my first indicator that something was wrong. With the gain weight comes the high blood pressure that was also a problem that I was having but there is also either diabetes or insulin resistance. Although I was what my doctor called pre-diabetic my blood sugar levels were rather high. There was a huge insulin build up in my system too. All of this being partial reasons for my gain weight. One of the main indicators that you suffer of PCOS is an absence of a period for long periods of time. My amenorrhea was complete. If I was lucky I would get my period once or twice a year. When I would get it would be with lots of cramps and heavy flows and so many symptoms that would debilitate me. To normalize my period I was put on birth control for a bit but then we noticed that my blood pressure would sky rocket once again. So for now I have to go on with my amenorrhea until my high levels of testosterone go down.
With PCOS it’s not just the symptoms that you have but also the risks that there well be some complications. Some of these complications are infertility. Of course I won’t know if I’m going to have this complication until further down the line when I’m ready to have children. There is also the risk of endometrial cancer. This is due to your endometrial lining not shedding since you are not getting a period. There’s a risk of breast cancer also. For me these risks are higher since cancer runs on both sides of my family.
For me there was more emotional and self esteem issues with all of this. The weight gain was a self esteem killer for me. For someone who was an avid runner and was in the gym every day but on Sundays it killed me to lose what I thought was my identity. Not only was I harsh on myself but I felt that those around me were judging me.
I went from a size 4 runner with strong abs, arm and leg muscles to this mushy bodied person. My co-workers would whisper about my weight gain. Some wouldn’t even be that polite some would tell me I had gotten fat and unattractive to my face. I had a few clients ask me if I was pregnant. I would laugh it off or cut them with words but as soon as I got home I would cry. There were also the unspoken comments that I felt with the looks that people gave me. Exercise was prohibited by my doctor until my blood pressure went down to normal. Not that I could exercise because just a brisk walk would have me out of breath.
Besides exercise I identified who I was by my clothes. Slowly as the weight kept going up the less clothing choices I had. The stores that I loved in the past didn’t carry the size I had become. I remember having a close friend begging me to go to her wedding shower and I only went because of the love I had for her. It took me an hour to find a dress that would hide how fat I had gotten. As I put my make up on I cried the whole time because I felt that people were going to see how fat I was. I would hardly go out to hang out my friends because I was so embarrassed by my weight gain. When once I was a social butterfly I couldn’t bare to go past the door of my house.
I would look at my friends who didn’t have any weight problems and envied them. The hardest part for me was one day when I could no longer horde all my clothes and had to give it away. There were items that were so precious to me. I put up a brave front but when my friends took all of my clothes I cried myself to sleep. It was a hard time for me.

I’ll continue my path on my PCOS in my next blog. Follow me as I find ways to cope and happiness with my chronic illness.

Two natured

When I was a little girl I was rather unfortunate looking. I had to grow in to a lot of my features. One of those features was my teeth. My mom being poor couldn't afford braces for me and that did me in with a lot of kids. If my looks weren't enough my mother gave me a very unfortunate first name so from 4th grade on I was made fun of for that too. Because bad teeth and a name my mom should have thought of twice before giving it to me weren't enough I then hit puberty. So bad name, bad teeth and then my boobs just popped out of no where. The girls well we know how the fairer of the two sexes can be. P.E. class was a bad scene of Mean Girls every day. The boys who I didn't pay any mind gave it to me as bad because they thought I was being stuck up.

With all of this going on I didn't trust a lot of people. I thought everyone was out to get me. So I went into my little hole and lived there alone. I let very few people in and my true colors didn't come out until months of me trying to figure out if I could trust you.

This started a duel personality. Naturally I think I'm an extrovert. I'm the girl who'll stand on a table at the party and sing top of her lungs and dance. I'm the girl who'll say and who are you and what are you doing here to the newbie. The thing is because I can only trust those around me for long periods of time and so afraid that people well attack me I'm also an introvert. I'm so painfully shy when you throw me in the middle of a crowd of people that I have never met.

Some day I'll be able to let these two personalities just become one and I won't fear people but till then don't be offended if I'm not friendly to you right off the bat. This is the creature that circumstances created.

The Nature of My Grave

So just like the child I truly am I have a new toy and I seem to not be able to put it down for now. Remember when you were a kid and your parents bought you a new toy and you would refuse to put it down for days. It was your greatest most favorite toy for a good while. For whatever reasons at some point you would put it down and start playing your other toys in equal amounts of time and the world would be back to normal once again. Sometimes I think that we do that with humans too. Just that we call these humans friends instead of toys. My newest shiniest toy is not so new he's actually a blast from my past. Oops did I say toy I totally meant friend nah I totally meant boy toy!
Well my newest not so new boy toy and I like to e-mail back and forth discussing our past our present and what the future well bring. At some point we discussed being 90 and having robots changing our diapers in the old people home. We discuss a lot of crazy things. We also discuss a lot of important heart touching things. Last night we were talking about secrets. The secrets we knew about each other back then. The secrets we didn't share. The secrets we still have. The new secrets we now share. At one point without being aware that we were doing it we made a vow to one another. We promised to one another that our secrets would go to the grave with us that no one would ever know. We I believe ended it in it's not in our nature it's not in our nature.
That got me to thinking. I have spilled secrets before. I have lost friends for telling things no one else was suppose to know. So I began questioning myself is it in my nature to give out secrets that are not mine to hand out. As always I began to self analyze and then become critical of self. For this seems to be my true nature.
I started from my latest blasphemous spill of a secret to as far as I could remember. I'll be honest I couldn't remember very far but I did find a pattern.
Each secret I've spilled was to save a friend from harm of self or other. Most likely then not after my divulging the secret I lost that friend. I would unfriend me too. In the end I feel that I have been a true friend by saying it then keeping it. I well not let my friends hurt themselves even if that means I well lose them.
It's okay don't worry I still won't tell secrets that I feel aren't harming anyone. Armando I for sure won't tell our little secret about when we were 16 and you gave me that lap-dance in nothing but a leather thong... oops! Oh well!

While my immediate family is a small group of people my extended family is very large. My mom has 21 brothers and sisters. Those brothers and sisters each have at least two kids. So there's tons of cousins. There's so many that we don't all know each other and we've not all met. There's so many of us that we always joke on how many of us there are. Some of the jokes can get racy sometimes. The best part is that I always get to met new people that are my family and will continue meeting new family members until I die.
Thanks to the miracle of Facebook it has become easier for the family to stay in contact and for everyone to keep in touch. The family started a family group on facebook to try to keep everyone updated on all the things going on.
As you can imagine as in any big family there's always some type of drama but we've all been able to maintain some sort of civility and most of us have opted not to let the drama between our parents and aunts and uncles come between us. So far we've all been civilized between each other. Until today.
Before I start on the drama let's back up a minute and discuss some current affairs. So my family as you may or may not know is from this little country that has been in the news a lot lately. That country is called Honduras. If you've been hiding under a rock lately and have no clue let me give you the really quick cleft notes on what's going on. So the president of country was getting a little too big for his britches and wanted to stay as president for longer then his term. He was pulling some stunts and getting help from his friend Hugo Chavez. He's also being accused of stealing money from the government. Other people in the government were getting concerned and one night he was taken out of his house in his PJ's and sent to Costa Rica. As you can imagine all hell has broken loose in said country.
The family separates into lots of individual groups most days. Those individual groups are always causing drama. There's the legitimate kids and the bastards. Then there's the group of wealthy and the poor part of the family. There's a crazy break down of aunts and uncles according to whom the mother was and amongst the cousins also. It can crazy sometimes.The biggest break down of a group is those thatlive in the US and those that stayed in Honduras. So you can imagine the latest break down of a group is those that are for and against what was done with the president. Nothing really ugly had been said till today. A message was posted that those of us in the US weren't allowed to voice our opinion on what was going on because living our cushy lives her in the States had made us communist.
Lovely, this is what family is all about. With family members like that who needs enemies, right? So yeah I could respond in a million ways but I choose to keep my trap shut.

Swiss cheese memories

Recently through the modern day miracle of Facebook I found an old childhood friend. By childhood I mean of course my teen years. We all remember our teen years full of angst and disquietude. Unfortunately for me the angst of being an adolescent was tenfold of that of a normal teenager. Now as I’m older and I work with ‘crazy people’ as I like to call them and I’ve been diagnosed as a ‘crazy’ myself I understand so much of what my special angst was about. Being diagnosed a few years ago with Chronic Situational Depression my whole teenage drama makes so much more sense to me.

My depression was so bad during those years that there are chunks of my life that I can’t even remember. There are other chunks of my life that are fuzzy and of course chunks that I’d rather not remember so I pretend that I don’t. There are memories that are fuzzy that I would like to remember and that is why I get so happy when I find people from that period of my life that can help me fill up the voids.
When I saw Armando on another’s friend’s profile I got so excited. Memories of Armando I thought were just fuzzy but as I began to talk to him I realized that there were whole chunks of memories that had just disappeared. I do remember one thing though. Every time that I saw Armando my face would light up and this happiness that I didn’t understand came from somewhere unknown to me. I more often then not had my smile mirrored in his face. I always felt that he was a kindred soul that new all of my secrets even though I had not let one spill from my lips. I can’t remember when we met because we began our conversation as if we had been in the middle of it already. We, I believe, knew each other in another lifetime in a pre-existence to this life.
As adults we have been able to share with no guilt or shame the pain that neither of us was aware the other had but that we both shared. It is my belief that something in us that was where our pain was centered called us to one another in friendship. We were like magnets that couldn’t help but unite together. I wish today that we had dropped our shame, guilt and the pretenses and had been able to talk to one another honestly about things. The one thing that serves as a healing aide for me is to know that we silently supported one another.
I went into my line of work because I wanted to help others not go through similar pains as mine. So today when I see a child with sad eyes that keeps quiet I remember what I was like at that age. I remember Armando and what he quietly bore. I don’t want that for any other child and my hopes that a smile and a hug might help somehow. I hope in my heart that no one feels and goes through my pains but if they do that I can help somehow.

A cultural thing

My mom has visitors coming in and out of the house like crazy since she's been out the hospital. Family and friends want to make sure that she's doing well so they visit. Today we had a group of 3 Hispanic women and their kids come over to visit her. Since there were so many people my mom thought it best to entertain them outside. As many of you know my mom has the most amazing garden that is tended by my 'dad'/boss.
It being such a nice day we spent a good three hours sitting around the section of the garden designated for the tables and chairs. My mom being the Hispanic hostess that she is offered to make everyone dinner. I loved when everyone started preparing the table and helping my mom make dinner. I got up to get flatware and some serving spoons for dinner. By the time that I got back everyone was sitting around the patio table talking. I knew something was being said about me because everyone was looking at me but having the mom I have I'm used to it.
I was surprised when I got to the table and everyone started giggling. Usually they're more discreet about it. Then I hear it! Your boobs and your butt are huge, Lupe! I'm paraphrasing here because I wouldn't want to repeat what they said in front of polite company. I smiled and said yeah it all got big when I got fat. I might as well be honest about it. Then I was surprised when I hear the out cries.
Everyone is telling me I'm not fat and that I'm just the right size. When around Americans I take this as social politeness. It's not considered proper to call someone fat in public or to their face. But when a Hispanic woman tells you this you need to pay attention. In the Hispanic culture the norm is to be honest and straight forward. So if they think you're fat they'll let you know. The shocker for me was when the 25 year old 5 foot 7 inch size 00 (that's right that's two zero's as in she's smaller then a zero) tells me I wish you could give me some of that I'm too skinny. I wanted to yell at her too skinny! You're what every girl dreams to be.
So I've decided maybe it's time to embrace my Hispanic roots and be ok with my size. It seems my Hispanic peers already have

A shout out to my nail salon

Every once in awhile I give a shout out to one of the places I frequent. Letting everyone I know know how great the place is. It started with my hair dresser who was Best of Philly 2007. I agreed the magazine since she's my first hair dresser to not complain about me having too much hair.
Today I want to give mad props to City Nails found in Philadelphia on N. 17th St. between JFK and the BFP.
Here's the story on City Nails. When I was going to the gym every day running anywhere between 6-9 miles a day and working like crazy at my soup kitchen you can imagine the feet I had. They were not pretty. My friend Charity was, as she called it, squatting in my apartment for a bit over a month. To show me her gratitude she would take me on 'dates'. One day we were going to go with a large group of friends to see the Phillies play. Before hand we went to get a manicure and pedicure and that day Charity introduced me to City Nails. The place was amazingly clean, I noticed that they used top of the line cleaning agents (same sanitizing machine my boss uses in his dental office), and a super friendly staff. I never went to another place again. In seeing such a great place month in and month out I began to think this was the norm. Until last month.
I moved to my apartment in the fall so I didn't have too many pedicure needs. When the weather started getting warmer and my flip flops became a permanent fixture in my wardrobe I knew it was time for a pedicure/manicure. I didn't have time to go into the city and seeing so many of them near my house in the suburbs I thought I'd just go to one near me. I thought they're all the same aren't they? No they are not ladies! The service was slow the staff was unfriendly with not only the customers but amongst each other. I sat for an hour , my feet in cold water, waiting for a staff member to begin my pedicure. When I finally got the pedicure started it was painful because she was using dull tools and all ten toes began to bleed. She blamed it on my feet being over sensitive. Funny how they had never bled before! And then proceeded to spray my bleeding feet with alcohol( WTF can you say OUCH!). I should also mention that when she was done w/ me and my bleeding feet I saw her 'clean' her tools with the same alcohol she sprayed on me before she used them on the next person.
Today I went to City Nails and experienced what a good pedicure is suppose to feel again. If you are in Philadelphia and need a mani/pedi City Nails. Ask for Anna!

Cry Baby

I nag and complain so much about my health and sometimes it's so much that I wonder if I'm just one big cry baby. Sometimes when I see my mom walking around cleaning the whole house when she has a really bad flu or just had surgery I wonder if I'm just a big cry baby. When my pain has got me in tears I wonder if everyone else feels the same way I do and I just can't take it. Sometimes I find out that yes indeed I am a big cry baby but sometimes I do get the satisfaction of finding out I should be in more pain then I am. Those are the days that I pat myself in the back and say congrats on not being a cry baby today.
Today I had back to back doctor appointments. First to my bi-monthly therapy session. We've been discussing cycles that cause my depression to 'flare'. For those of you that don't know about three or four years ago I was diagnosed with chronic situational depression. Basically that means that my depression is under the surface waiting for a situation, a thing or an event to let it surface. The thing is that I never know what that thing that well resurface it is going to be. When I was diagnosed I was in a bad rut and I was put on medications. I didn't always want to be on them so about a year ago I slowly weaned myself off of them. I did this with help from my doctor, my psychologist and my therapist (you should never just go off your psyche meds without telling your doctors). My therapist and I began trying to work out triggers that I was aware of and now we're working on cycles that seem to happen that work around me getting depressed.
One of the cycles that keeps popping up in our conversations is my reproductive cycle. We have noticed that when I finally get a period my depression usually sky rockets. You read right I did say "when I finally". See last year I was diagnosed with PCOS (poly-cystic ovarian syndrome). Basically that means that due to hormone imbalances when my egg is suppose to leave my ovary and go down my fallopian tube the ruputure that is supposed to happen doesn't. So I get various cysts of eggs on my ovaries. My body each month raises and raises the hormones it sends out to get an egg down to the utereus. My therapist thinks that much hormones in my system may help with my depression surfacing. This has been a theory that we've been working on but haven't been able to prove since I haven't gotten a period since we began working on the theory.
This month my endocriologist gave me some progesterone to kick start a period. The result was me crying over everything and anything for two days after I started taking the meds till today.
My second visit was to the dreadful OB/GYN visit that all women hate. That's right ladies take your clothes off put on a gown crouch to the end of the table and open up wide for a PAP smear. I HATE PAP SMEARS! I HATE OB/GYN EXAMS! I HATE I HATE I HATE this part of being a woman. To make it worse after the student doctor a guy by the name of Craig ( I specifically asked for all women) did the initial how are you bit he gives me the gown and says Dr Helstrem well be with you in a moment. I know she's the only female in the practice so after I put myself in the gown I kept my ears open for a female voice in the hallway.
I hear the clitter clatter of high heels running in the hallway and hear the door open quickly the room next door. I know my doctor is seeing one more patient before she sees me. I roll me eyes as I realized great another 5 or 10 minutes sitting here naked. Then I hear her say in a very strong voice I'm really worried about you. The patient says 'am I about to hear some news I don't want to hear?". I want to yell to his room of course you are you idiot. I get up from my table to grab my cell to text while I wait. I'm sitting in my doctors office naked while she is about to tell a guy something not good what should I do? Then I hear it she tells him his blood pressure is 220/100 and that's why they put him on the EKG machine and that that's not looking too good either. My 5 minutes have passed and I'm thinking ok maybe 15 minutes naked isn't so bad this guy is about to have a heart attack. That's when she asks him all these questions that I realize is her trying to see if he has symptoms of a heart attack. He has none and the poor sap yet hasn't realized where she's going with this. Then she says I already called an ambulance and they're on their way to bring you to the hospital. We're going to stay here till they get here.
At this point I don't know if I want to throw my cell phone to the wall, go next door in my gown and remind them I'm waiting for them naked (that stops me) or yell hey naked woman waiting for you over here (that might make the guys heart attack worse though). I opt to just keep texting they'll get to me eventually. I may be naked and I may hate the procedure that's going to be done to me but hey I'm not having a heart attack!
When they do get to me Craig and Dr. Helstrem apologize for making me wait. I say hey at least I'm not having a heart attack. So here is when I feel like the biggest baby in the whole world. I always cry when the exam happens. I hate it but I figure relax and it won't be so bad. When I tell her that I hate the exam she says hey the books say there are no nerve endings in the cervix but I think it does so I believe you that it hurts. No one has ever told me that. No one has ever been as patient with me during an exam as she was. No one said I was being a cry baby. When she was doing the rest of the exam I told her that my ovaries had been hurting me. I usually get eyes rolling at this point. She explained that they were probably hurting because of all my cysts and that she could feel them. She said they felt pretty bad and she was surprised that I wasn't in more visiable pain. I felt relief that someone finally believed me. She told me to take some advil and go to bed when I got home.
I went to eat a late lunch or early dinner and then a pedicure and then another dinner followed by some Naked Chocolate before I got myself to bed but it was a good day in the end. Knowing that some of the complains I have aren't me being a cry baby but legit made me feel a bit better.

And the band plays on

So a friend commented on my blog asking me if I'm still off the juice errr soda. A few people have asked me in day to day conversation and my favorite was when a co-workers girlfriend incredulous reaction when I passed on the soda at a work function. She blatantly told me to my face that she didn't think I was going to go this long without it. The answer is I'm still off the juice errr soda.
So the reason I haven't blogged about it is because it has gotten easier to not drink it. It hasn't even bothered me to see other people drink it like it did at first. There's a two liter bottle of generic Sprite in my fridge from my birthday party and it's just not calling to me.
I think what helped was a talk I had with my sister-in-law about the reasons that Catholics gave something up for Lent. She explained that it was a type of fast a giving up something for the Lord. A sacrifice of sorts. Seeing it that way helped. She explained that on St. Patrick's people were allowed to have the thing they gave up for that day. I really didn't feel the need to have any for St Patty's though.
There is a story that my brother and mom tell of when I was three and I had the measles. Or was it the chicken pox? My mom says that it had gotten pretty bad. I had no energy and was just lying in bed by day 3. She was really worried because I was breaking out not only outside on my skin but there were pox (measles) in my mouth and throat. I'm guessing it hurt for me to even eat because she says that I refused to eat anything and when I did try t eat I would just cry. By day five she was in a panic. I hadn't eaten anything for days I was barely having awake moments and I had a fever at this point. My brother asked me if I wanted something when I finally woke up and opened my eyes. We all laugh because all I said was Pepsi. The family all ran to go buy some and to help me sit up and drink it. Since that day every time that I'm extremely ill or not feeling even 50% they give me soda. Today I've been really sick. My PCOS has caused a 6 month period of amenorrhea and my endo gave me meds to fix that. So I've been extremely hormonal and having the worst cramps I've had since I was a teenager. I've been laying in bed going in and out of sleep and when I'm awake reading my e-mail or my books. My brother brought me a diet Coke and I drank it because I was feeling that ill. I thought that it would be the magic fix and that I was going to love the way it tasted. I've gone 3 weeks without so I should have been happy to have my old drug. It tasted so gross to me. I hated not only the taste but also the after taste. Maybe I'm cured? I didn't want more and it didn't make me happy. I'll chalk that can as the one soda I could have had on St Patty's. As for now I've got 3 more weeks till I'm there. Easter here we go!

The Most Likely Way to Fail

I was a Vegetarian for almost 3 years of my life. For those almost 3 years every day that I saw my mother she would put meat in my plate. I would kindly explain that I didn't eat meat and she would explain how beef was okay. Each and every time I would be exhausted or end up in tears not knowing why my mom didn't understand.
Recently I was diagnosed with PCOS with a glucose intolerance. Basic translation is I can't have sweets, carbs or anything that is going to turn to sugar when my body digests it. Suddenly my mom was all about feeding me potatoes and corn two vegetables (if you can call them that) that I can't have. I've explained each time she gives it to me I can't have them. I've explained that the sugar isn't good for my PCOS and that because of my Metformin I literally get ill.
When I made the goal to lose weight when I was in a wedding party where the bride called herself fat b/c she was a size 6 compared to her sister a size 2 and her future sister in laws both size 0. I went to the gym every day for up to 3 hrs. I was on a serious diet. 5 meals a day only 300 calories per meal only one soda a day. What would mom do? She'd add stuff to meals that were not on my approved list of foods to eat. If I made my own meals when I would turn around she'd add stuff to it. Her excuse was that she wanted my food to taste better.
So obviously knowing that my mom likes to sabataoge my healthy eatting habits I have not told her about my go off of the soda. She figured it out yesterday. So today when she was making the meals for everyone at the office she served my lunch with a big can of soda. Each time my co-workers and I switched around the drinks so I could get a bottle of water she'd change the bottle back to the middle of the table and put the can of ginger ale next to my plate.
Crazy woman! Gotta love her for trying to keep me happy or what she thinks should make me happy.

Change of Routine

Today was my full day at work off of the 'juice' errr soda. It was really weird to be off of it while doing a full day of work. I noticed that my daily routine changed. In order to get a soda I had to go to the basement of the office. The first thing I always did every morning was go to the basement to get supplies for the office and then grab my soda before going to my desk to start checking my e-mail before getting to the pile of files of patients. It seems that every excuse (reason) that I found to go to the basement was on the side of the basement we keep the fridge with the sodas. It even worked out that the washer and dryer in the office (I do my laundry at work) were next to the soda fridge.
Today I knew that I had to stay out of the basement as much as I could. Maybe the two hour delay, that I gave myself, into the office helped a bit but today instead of going to the basement I went into the kitchen got some fruit and a cup of water and headed to the 'dining room'. I sat down to eat and took my time with the fruit and water. The time frame of eatting gave me enough time to settle into being at work. I think that's what going to the basement for my first soda of the day was about. I had to settle into my work routine and getting a soda was my way of doing it without being noticed. Maybe that's something I have to find a way to get me to settle into the work routine without the soda.
Another thing that I noticed was that without the soda I wasn't eatting so much. I suffer from panic attacks and obviously caffeine isn't good for panic attacks. I noticed that I would get jittery often while drinking my diet Coke. In order to settle the jitters I'd eat more often. Besides the fruit I didn't eat that much today. I forgot about lunch until 4.
I was also more productive. Each time that I had to go to the basement I didn't automatically go to just the one section of the basement to look for things. Being that it's the smallest part of the basement of course I never found anything when looking for things. Knowing that I was trying to stay away from that section when looking for paintings for an art show my agency is sponsoring I went to the larger part of the basement first. I eventually went to the appliance area but it was a quick roam not a slow diddle daddle visit.
I'm seeing good things coming out of this change. Hopefully they'll keep coming

A baby cured me

Day four and I think the cravings are going down!
I spent the whole day at church and with my niece. I'm still feeling that endless thirst but it's not as strong anymore. Maybe it was because I was so busy with the church going and with Mags that I had not time to think about diet Coke.
Maybe the way of getting rid of an addiction is not by finding something else to fill the void but by occupying your self with other things. Thinking of other things seemed to help me not think of the need for the diet coke. Now that that part is getting better I wonder if I'm going to see benefits from staying away from sugar and caffeine. We'll see what happens next

A Junkie I Might Be

Last night Shushana came over to go through the piles and piles of clothes that I'm getting rid of. Do you know how much clothes a girl like me can accumulate? It seems like a lot. Shushana took two bags of clothes with her. Two days before Mar took 3 bags of clothes with her and I still have piles and piles of it around the house. This isn't the point though. So after Shushana rummaged through the clothes we decided to order some food. We called a local deli type place and ordered food. We went to pick it up and here came the issue. What to drink what to drink? There was this huge fridge full of nothing but SODAS. Did I mention that i usually have the largest soda intakes when I go out to eat? There weren't any non soda choices. Usually when I go to other places they have at least one fruit punch or lemonade choice. This place had nada. I refused to pay good money for bottled water so home we went to eat our food. I got one of my bottles of water and mixed a crystal light package. It was good but it just angered me that places don't have many choices for the non-soda drinker.
Today I thought was going to be easy. Saturdays are my only day by myself and yes sometimes I do drink soda but sometimes I don't on Saturdays. It depends if I go out or not. I've been home all day cleaning so far but there's this feeling in the back of my throat. I know it's not thrist I've downed more water and Crystal Light Lemonade then I knew was possible. I keep teling myself I can and I will make it through. I'm sure that in a few days the cravings well go away.
Tonight I'm going out with my family. This should be interesting. We're going to a Spanish party and all Hispanics drink is soda so hopefully there won't be a lot of it and I won't feel too tempted. I know I can do it! I hope I can do it!

Withdrawl symptoms-Day two

It's day two of my little experiment. Day one was easy because I often go one day without my dearest Diet Coke. 90 % of my Sundays I don't have soda so I can say that I usually go at least one day a week without caffeine. This is day two though and I've never gone this long without soda. The office is what you can my dealer. My boss buys diet Coke just for me. So usually I'm on my own on the weekends to get soda. Saturdays I usually go out to eat or go shopping either activity gives me the opportunity to get soda somewhere. Sundays are the hardest because unless I think ahead of time I can't get soda. Due to religious reasons I don't shop on Sundays so I can't get my 'drug'.
So back to my point. Today is the first time in a long time that I go two days without soda or caffeine. It's tough. Even though I've already downed half a liter of water I feel thirsty and anxious. Being that I work with addicts I know the key of giving one thing up is to fill the void with something better. Sigh now to find a good thing to fill the void of my soda. Denise told me that she gave up soda two weeks ago and that she's filling the void with protein water. How fancy, no? Well fancy or no I'm gonna give it a try. Anything to take away this feeling of being faint when I know I'm nice and full.

Lent

I grew up in New Orleans. My Southern accent will prove it true. Having lived amongst 'dirty yankees', as a close friend from Georgia calls them, I've lost some of that accent. Every year come Mardi Gras my heart aches in a way that no one can understand. I guess that the reason I'm so colorful is having grown up in such a colorful city that has such colorful rituals such as Mardi Gras. This year I missed it more then I have in a long time. In order to honor my heritage I've decided to do something different. Well, it's not really heritage because even though I grew up there my family isn't from New Orleans and I wasn't born there but you know what I mean.
To honor the Southern in me and the true meaning of Mardi Gras, and I don't mean the partying, I'm going to give something up for Lent.
If you know me you know that I always have a can of diet Coke on my hand. If it's not a can it's a cup full of ice and diet Coke. Of course I know that giving up diet Coke means that I could easily fill the void with another soda, most likely another diet soda (Diet Dr. Pepper comes to mind) so I have to go beyond just giving up diet Coke. For the next 40 days, or less if I'm not succesful at this, I'm giving up soda in general. I'll keep daily updates on how it's going. This sould be interesting! Let's see how much of a soda junkie I truly am.