Coming to you live from our home office....where I am quietly sobbing. It would seem NOTHING can go smoothly...expecially not "lumpy". Lumpy the lymphnode was the 3rd person in the Dixon marriage until 8am this morning when he was divorced. Lemme 'splain...
Back in the Fall I had found a lump on the back of my neck, and being un-insured I told myself it would be gone by morning and tried not to dream of chemotherapy. But the next day when it was still hangin around and my Husband, the King of, " it's no big deal" gave me an, "I don't like the way this feels" look...I started to panic and made a Doctors appointment for the Tuesday following our wedding. A GP also gave me a , "yep you're screwed" gaze upon examination and ordered up blood work and an ultrasound. A week later the cool stare of a 20 year old ultrasound tech pretty much suggested I start planning my funeral and I promptly fainted on a LabCorp employee who looked like Precious. I sobbed to my GP that I had truly started planning my funeral and couldn't wait his suggested 2 weeks for a follow up. "I need to know by Friday if I have cancer because if I have to wait any longer I'll have a heart attack anyway". After countless nights of sobbing to my poor, loving Husband and telling him I was sorry but I wouldn't have the strength to make it too long after my diagnosis and it's probably better that I go first anyway. Many of those, "I want you to move on and find someone" (although...who am I kidding, no I don't) conversations. Plans for my funeral and the division of my estate. And by estate, I referred to my 99' Saturn which I requested be set on fire on the lawn of the ex boyfriend who purchased it. And the list of friends to disburse my jewelry and Anthropolgie glassware among. After all of that....my bloodwork was clear and Mark and I hugged, cried, and immediately ordered a pizza.
But that was not the end of Lumpy. No, Lumpy was a growing boy and had big plans. I swear, there were days I felt like this thing was going to pop out of my neck...it was awful. My GP suggested that since it would be easy to do so, I should follow up with an ENT. I did. My ENT, Dr. Hall suggested we get the bugger the hell outta my neck and I was overjoyed if not just a tad less than thrilled to be going under the knife for the second time in a year. My first and only experience with Anethesia was not a pleasant one and resulted in my laying in bed with a bucket and consequently never being able to consume Lorna Doones and/or Grape Juice ever again. Never. Ever. But today's experience at Underwood Memorial Hospital or as I call it, Blunderwood, was a fairly pleasant one. Although whilst weighing me the Admissions Nurse slapped me sideways with this lil diddy, "hmmm...looks can be decieving." I'm still not sure how I take this other than "wow, you wear that fat well". Dr. Hall played Tom Jones' "Sex Bomb" in lieu of any George Michael while I was being sedated and my last words were, "this is SO Nip/Tuck!". Less than an hour later, Lumpy was gone. Dr. Hall won't have the biopsy results back for a few weeks but he's very confident it was only a lymphnode aggrivated by an infection and pressured by fatty tissue. PHEW!
But now I'm home and several hours after surgery, thinking I was in the clear and home free from pain....I can't turn my neck. I can't shower until Wednesday and no one in that damn hospital wrote me a script for shit! I need pills, people! I am feeling quite filthy and very Valley of the Dolls. I'm in no mood. Anyway....just thought I'd check in.
I gotta have faith...
XOJAC
Monday, February 21, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
One More Try
I am so grateful that I can tell Mark exactly how I feel and I'm met with an honest opinion seriously lacking in judgment. Lucky doesn't even begin to describe how I feel.
Hi Guys!
So...sorry for the Debbie Downer introductory Blog. Contrary to popular belief- I'm not suicidal. I haven't even listened to a Jeff Buckley song! I'm going to be OK, I know that. And the brutal honesty and self deprecation is merely a means to a smaller pair of thighs! So no worries! I've downloaded some new British Pop to my ipod, started a food journal (to write down all of thehorrible healthy things I am eating) and I took Tricky's (my dearest best friend whom I've never actually met...I'll explain later) advice and am seriously considering finding a couch where I can sit and spill my guts once a week. Tomorrow is also payday and I am going to go on Amazon.com and buy "Women, Food, and God" by Geneen Roth. Or maybe not since I just looked it up on Itunes and I could listen to it and cry in the privacy of my own car...hmmm decisions.
I tried to buy the new US Weekly with Bethenny Frankel on the cover. Her size -0 Self divulging her own battle with compulsive eating. I told myself, "I am gonna sit down with my husband, this cheesesteak, and Bethenny and get right!". But the Woodbury CVS didn't have the new US Weekly. Pigs.
They did, however, have a line out the door and one infant on the register as usual. I hate our CVS. HATE. But that's another blog entirely.
I have my first meeting with my Health Coach, Debbie in a week and a half. So that means I have about 10 days to see just how much food I can fit in my gullet? Well that's how I see it sometimes but hopefully that's not how it goes. Seriously though, I am very excited and cautiously optimistic. I fully recognize that there's a part of me that hopes I walk into her office and as I step inside my thin, toned legs will step out of the fat suit I've been living in. Or, I imagine Debbie is going to hand me my progress journal and she will also hand over, "the secret". But the rational person that lives deep inside, buried under the carbs...well that person knows I've got some work to do. I'm wondering if it's the fear of "work" that's kept me overweight for so long. What many people fail to realize is that when you are literally addicted to food, it takes a lot of work and willpower to say "no" and make a better, healthier choice. When I dated the gay, heroin addict I would often scold myself for scolding him. If I think he should be able to put the needle down, shouldn't I be able to step away from the Pizza hut?!? You would think. But I haven't met a pizza I didn't really, really like yet.
I'm not sure what I am trying to suppress when I eat. And it's actually kind of scary what I may discover that it is. But I want to know what "fabulousness" could be under all of this too. So scary be damned. Lets go!
I gotta have faith....
XOJAC
Hi Guys!
So...sorry for the Debbie Downer introductory Blog. Contrary to popular belief- I'm not suicidal. I haven't even listened to a Jeff Buckley song! I'm going to be OK, I know that. And the brutal honesty and self deprecation is merely a means to a smaller pair of thighs! So no worries! I've downloaded some new British Pop to my ipod, started a food journal (to write down all of the
I tried to buy the new US Weekly with Bethenny Frankel on the cover. Her size -0 Self divulging her own battle with compulsive eating. I told myself, "I am gonna sit down with my husband, this cheesesteak, and Bethenny and get right!". But the Woodbury CVS didn't have the new US Weekly. Pigs.
They did, however, have a line out the door and one infant on the register as usual. I hate our CVS. HATE. But that's another blog entirely.
I have my first meeting with my Health Coach, Debbie in a week and a half. So that means I have about 10 days to see just how much food I can fit in my gullet? Well that's how I see it sometimes but hopefully that's not how it goes. Seriously though, I am very excited and cautiously optimistic. I fully recognize that there's a part of me that hopes I walk into her office and as I step inside my thin, toned legs will step out of the fat suit I've been living in. Or, I imagine Debbie is going to hand me my progress journal and she will also hand over, "the secret". But the rational person that lives deep inside, buried under the carbs...well that person knows I've got some work to do. I'm wondering if it's the fear of "work" that's kept me overweight for so long. What many people fail to realize is that when you are literally addicted to food, it takes a lot of work and willpower to say "no" and make a better, healthier choice. When I dated the gay, heroin addict I would often scold myself for scolding him. If I think he should be able to put the needle down, shouldn't I be able to step away from the Pizza hut?!? You would think. But I haven't met a pizza I didn't really, really like yet.
I'm not sure what I am trying to suppress when I eat. And it's actually kind of scary what I may discover that it is. But I want to know what "fabulousness" could be under all of this too. So scary be damned. Lets go!
I gotta have faith....
XOJAC
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Stuck in the Scared, An Introduction
Let me start off with an apology. It could be one of many, or hopefully one of my last. You see, I'd like to apologize in advance for the mess you're about to witness when you encounter me. I'm pretty sure I will offend you. Maybe with what I say, how I look, or just my voice in general ...I don't know. But it will probably happen and so I like to be as generous a hostess as possible and apologize before I swallow you into my world. So... I'm sorry.
Moving on....
Here I am. Back to blogging. I can't really tell you why I'm here except to say that it's 50% about accountability. Now my story, my intentions (whatever they may be- I sure as hell don't know), my failures will all be here in print and I have witnesses. As C.C. Bloom said, "It will keep you honest". Here's hoping!
I've always been "heavy"- a girl who really loved her food from a young age. And those closest to me from a young age, assured me I had my reasons for eating everything I saw. My parents were divorced, we had no money, I had no relationship with my Dad, we lost our home...I could go on and on. Basically, "Jaclyn, if anyone has a reason to eat their feelings, it's you, Sweetie!". And, I always believed it. Because life's just a whole lot easier when there's something or someone to blame, right!? Over the years, of course, I've added to the list, I'm getting my period- I NEED a cheeseburger, my cat died,My Grandfather died, I can't get into that school, I can't do math, my boyfriend is a gay heroin addict (swear to God), I'm single, I'm broke, I was raped, I am moving back to New Jersey. Clearly, I did have my reasons. Some of them were even pretty damn good.
But lots of things have changed, some even for the better. PHEW! Almost a year ago my Dad and I mended our broken relationship, a 20+ year silence ended between my Dad and my older brothers, and in August of 2009 I met the love of my life, who almost a year later asked me to marry him. Two months ago we did just that and it was perfect. But can I tell you what my greatest anxiety of that entire day was??? That I wouldn't look good. That no pictures would come back where my arms looked "normal" or my double chin wasn't properly concealed. I wouldn't look good and everyone would think, "it's a shame she's so heavy". On one hand I suppose that's one of the better concerns to have on your wedding day. I remembered the marriage certificate and I was 150% sure I wanted to marry Mark. But arms, chins, spanx....this is the stuff my nightmares were made of.
And it's always been that way. I would rather not confront someone who has wronged me simply because my greatest fear is they would turn around and hit me with, "Well at least I'm not a fat slob". This is truly how my mind works. But damn if I have ever really committed to changing it for more than a week. And that is where my entire soul has seemed to turn into a question mark. WHY WON'T I CHANGE IT?! Somethings not working for you, you change, right? I suppose, if you're healthy and normal.
I hate the body I'm in. I hate how I feel, how I look. I hate the discomfort I feel walking, laying down, living. Some days I hate being awake. Which is only made worse when I consider how much I love my Husband, how I cannot stand to be away from him but how ashamed I feel of myself, of the shitty version of a Wife and Partner that I am and that I only continue to spiral further out of control. Drowning myself in a carton of Breyers while he takes our Daughter home. Lying that I didn't eat dinner yet when I already devoured a Big Mac in the car. This is my truth. My awful, embarrassing truth. None of my tragic, previously mentioned reasons change the fact that as of this morning I weigh 175lbs. There that is. Perhaps the biggest, most important sentence I could write. That's what I weigh, folks. And for me- it's just not working out. But there it is. Now you know. Now I know you know. I don't know what I'm trying to drown. I don't know who I am afraid of being. But I've got to get out of this and come up for air.
And let me be clear: My weight, my body, my life, these things do not work for me. I believe health, happiness and wholeness come in all shapes and sizes. I'm making a choice to write about my journey. You can read it, but you don't have to. But I do. I have to write it, read it, live it. I am stuck in the scared, terrified and desperately sick of crying. I want more for me. I want to get dressed in the morning without worrying about what I need to hide. I want to feel well. I want to know, not wonder and that applies to so many things.
I want more for my life with my Husband. I want more.
I have sought out a nutrition and health Coach. I am starting this blog. I am trying to be present in my thoughts and feelings and not bury them with food. It's hard and I will be honest when I fail and pray for the strength and support to succeed.
I gotta have faith....
XOJac
Moving on....
Here I am. Back to blogging. I can't really tell you why I'm here except to say that it's 50% about accountability. Now my story, my intentions (whatever they may be- I sure as hell don't know), my failures will all be here in print and I have witnesses. As C.C. Bloom said, "It will keep you honest". Here's hoping!
I've always been "heavy"- a girl who really loved her food from a young age. And those closest to me from a young age, assured me I had my reasons for eating everything I saw. My parents were divorced, we had no money, I had no relationship with my Dad, we lost our home...I could go on and on. Basically, "Jaclyn, if anyone has a reason to eat their feelings, it's you, Sweetie!". And, I always believed it. Because life's just a whole lot easier when there's something or someone to blame, right!? Over the years, of course, I've added to the list, I'm getting my period- I NEED a cheeseburger, my cat died,My Grandfather died, I can't get into that school, I can't do math, my boyfriend is a gay heroin addict (swear to God), I'm single, I'm broke, I was raped, I am moving back to New Jersey. Clearly, I did have my reasons. Some of them were even pretty damn good.
But lots of things have changed, some even for the better. PHEW! Almost a year ago my Dad and I mended our broken relationship, a 20+ year silence ended between my Dad and my older brothers, and in August of 2009 I met the love of my life, who almost a year later asked me to marry him. Two months ago we did just that and it was perfect. But can I tell you what my greatest anxiety of that entire day was??? That I wouldn't look good. That no pictures would come back where my arms looked "normal" or my double chin wasn't properly concealed. I wouldn't look good and everyone would think, "it's a shame she's so heavy". On one hand I suppose that's one of the better concerns to have on your wedding day. I remembered the marriage certificate and I was 150% sure I wanted to marry Mark. But arms, chins, spanx....this is the stuff my nightmares were made of.
And it's always been that way. I would rather not confront someone who has wronged me simply because my greatest fear is they would turn around and hit me with, "Well at least I'm not a fat slob". This is truly how my mind works. But damn if I have ever really committed to changing it for more than a week. And that is where my entire soul has seemed to turn into a question mark. WHY WON'T I CHANGE IT?! Somethings not working for you, you change, right? I suppose, if you're healthy and normal.
I hate the body I'm in. I hate how I feel, how I look. I hate the discomfort I feel walking, laying down, living. Some days I hate being awake. Which is only made worse when I consider how much I love my Husband, how I cannot stand to be away from him but how ashamed I feel of myself, of the shitty version of a Wife and Partner that I am and that I only continue to spiral further out of control. Drowning myself in a carton of Breyers while he takes our Daughter home. Lying that I didn't eat dinner yet when I already devoured a Big Mac in the car. This is my truth. My awful, embarrassing truth. None of my tragic, previously mentioned reasons change the fact that as of this morning I weigh 175lbs. There that is. Perhaps the biggest, most important sentence I could write. That's what I weigh, folks. And for me- it's just not working out. But there it is. Now you know. Now I know you know. I don't know what I'm trying to drown. I don't know who I am afraid of being. But I've got to get out of this and come up for air.
And let me be clear: My weight, my body, my life, these things do not work for me. I believe health, happiness and wholeness come in all shapes and sizes. I'm making a choice to write about my journey. You can read it, but you don't have to. But I do. I have to write it, read it, live it. I am stuck in the scared, terrified and desperately sick of crying. I want more for me. I want to get dressed in the morning without worrying about what I need to hide. I want to feel well. I want to know, not wonder and that applies to so many things.
I want more for my life with my Husband. I want more.
I have sought out a nutrition and health Coach. I am starting this blog. I am trying to be present in my thoughts and feelings and not bury them with food. It's hard and I will be honest when I fail and pray for the strength and support to succeed.
I gotta have faith....
XOJac
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