Remodel Purgatory...

My last post was pretty upbeat about the changes around the abode.  It was optimistic and cheerful.  I was hopeful of quick turnaround on the whole process and figured by the end of September I would be relaxing in my newly redone home.

My disposition has changed.  I'm less patient.  I'm tired.  I'm sore.  My fingers are sore and in some instances, bloody.  Instead of springing out of bed eager to get going I wonder if I could sleep for just one more hour and then I'd have the energy of Superman and I could get this whole project done in one or two more days.  Sure.  Right.  Did I mention I have a thyroid issue that is still under trial and error treatment?  I feel about as UNsuperman as possible.  

This is all Dobby's fault.  


It all started one fine September day when I decided the (ugly) blue carpet in our 1950s built home must come up.  Dobby is not capable of being potty-trained and has determined to prove this by utilizing my (ugly) blue carpet.  It was either Dobby or the carpet - one of them had to go.  Since I paid a lot for Dobby and I think he's cute, and I hate my carpet, I opted to keep Dobby and wave goodbye to the carpet.  Besides, earlier renovation had proven we have some decent hardwood beneath that ugly carpet.  


Whether the following thought processes were a result of bipolar disorder or OCD, I may never know, but I was clearly cloudy-minded when I thought this would be a "little" project.  I was so far from rational and clear-minded that I now want to grab Kyle by the lapel and ask him "WHY, KYLE, WHY??? Why did you let me do this to us???"  (He would simply remind me of how I get when I'm ... manic.  I get a bit hyperfocused.  Driven.  One might say, stubborn.  

Oh, mania.  You are so deceiving.  You make me feel like I could conquer any old project in a day and a half.  You hide the costs and potential problems so that I see only the beauty of the plan.  You make me energized and gung-ho to get going. 


What happened in my mind went something like this.  "Okay, we're pulling out the carpet and scrubbing up the hardwood underneath.  But I've been wanting to paint this room.  I should probably paint before pulling carpet, otherwise I have to tape and put plastic over the flooring and try not to get paint on the floor (at which I am horrible).  It would make far more sense to paint and THEN remove carpet.  And since I'm going to paint, now would be the time to pull that awful wallpaper that bubbles and ripples when painted over.  It was a fairly easy job in the craft room when I redid that room."


I bought the needed supplies at my local Home Depot and eagerly embarked on the job of scoring, spraying, scraping.  And then I scored, sprayed, scraped, scored, sprayed, scrubbed, sponged, scraped and scraped.  And I was only down to the third layer of wallpaper.  I would soon learn that my old home's walls had FIVE layers, one of which included some odd plaster haphazardly placed.  I may or may not have cried out of sheer frustration.  When I got to the final layer, of which I last blogged, I had to admit the paper was kinda cute even though at this point I wanted to burn the house down.


Today, about 20 days into this project, I finally got to step 2 - repairing walls with joint compound and putty knives.  It was a bit cathartic, slapping wet goop onto the wall and smoothing it out.  Except that the perfectionist OCD in me really wanted it perfectly smooth, even though she knew that she would be sanding it down later anyway.  Sigh.  Much more frustration ensued, but I think I may be close to getting to the painting part.  


Which is good, because soon Home Depot will be doing the flooring part.  Did I mention that the hardwood floors I just knew would be beneath that ugly carpet didn't extend to the addition that was built at a later point than the original house?  All that exists in that area is some sort of sub-flooring I never really want to see again.  This project is costing a lot of dough, and I will probably have to substitute teach for the rest of my life to pay for it.  If I live that long.  

But at least when I get home from work I'll be able to relax in a lovely redone home. 


I can't wait to reveal the final look.  Who knows when that will be!  I will also be blogging a recap of my 30 before 30 list and revealing my 40 before 40 list.  If my fingers are still around.  Until then, I will be sanding, painting and sneezing.  And visiting the allergist.  

Nesting...

I'm in love with making my home pleasant, beautiful and homey.  Kyle bought our house right before we met.  In fact, it was how we met.  We've been living in this home for five years together and slowly making it "ours".  This is probably the longest I've ever lived in one house, and I love the idea of making it ours and enjoying it for the rest of our lives.  It's a modest home.  It has three bedrooms.  Our master bedroom is in the basement.  The two bedrooms upstairs are going to be Kyle's craft studio/office and my craft room/writing studio.  His is painted teal and mine is painted lavender.  Those rooms have been redone by me previously.  The kitchen has been redone by me, and besides the addition of a pantry and island, is finished.  The basement was remodeled thanks to the great basement flooding of last September.  So this project will pretty much complete major household repairs except for the sunroom.

I am presently stripping out all the old wallpaper in preparation for painting with Benjamin Moore's Coventry Gray.  With white trim, this color us uber warm and absolutely lovely. 

Usually I love every step of the remodel process.  However, this wallpaper is really tough to remove and I have been stripping wallpaper every day since Saturday.  The wallpaper is EVERYWHERE throughout the house.  It's been painted over THROUGHOUT the house.  Then, it appears that some areas have THREE layers of wallpaper.  And although retro-adorable, it's become the bane of my existence.  

I know this is going to be worth it in the end, but this wallpaper removal has been a nightmare.  Basically, counting the three layers and the plaster and paint I've got about five layers to get through.  My arms are pooped.  Even the smelly chemical peelers haven't helped a great deal.  I really, really, really hope to be done with the wallpaper tomorrow.  Then I can start the part I really enjoy - painting.  

When the painting is done, carpeting will be ripped out.  Some hardwood exists in some areas, but because this home has had several additions over the years, it is not certain where the hardwood begins and ends until the removal of carpet.  Because we're pretty certain there are some areas of no decent flooring, we had it measured today and we are probably going to have a pergo floor installed.  I am leaning towards this walnut shade from Home Depot:

 

After the paint is dry and the floor is installed comes the super fun part - decorating and organizing!  This will be another post.  For now, know that I have a redone entryway in the works (since we have no mudroom).  A picture wall (or two?) and some crown molding will make it all even sweeter.  Let's just hope this is all done before next year!

Eating to Live Vs. Living to Eat...

It's no big secret that I've had an unhealthy relationship with food most of my life.  Food was the friend when I was lonely.  Food never disapproved of me or made fun.  Food was sometimes in abundance and at other times scarce, but always it was available in some form.  Food couldn't abandon me.  It provided comfort and solace.  It accompanied me on the long bus ride home each day, or while I read before dinner. While it appeared to be my best friend, it was slowly killing me.  

On my best days I am mindful of what I put in my body and I try to remind myself that food is fuel.  On my worst days, I fall back into old patterns where my mood plummets even lower if something comforting (ie, carb-filled) isn't available.  Even Kyle can tell when chocolate is essential for the well-being of the household.  


In all honesty, I hate food. I hate my relationship with food.  I hate how I am controlled by cravings and how many times I've deemed myself worthless based on the reading on the scale.  Unlike so many bad habits that can be eliminated entirely from one's life if one abuses them, food cannot.  Unfortunately, a food addict must eat, whereas an alcoholic is not reliant on alcohol for sustenance.  When I write out my weekly menu plan, I wish I just never had to eat again. I wish there I could take a magical tablet along with my vitamins each day that would provide all the nutrition I need.  

When I had my gastric bypass three years ago, I was very excited at the prospect of getting to a more normal weight.  I was pre-diabetic, had high blood pressure, constant acid reflux and was in poor physical condition.  I had absolutely no idea how very hard those first few weeks on a liquid diet would be.  The difficulty was compounded by the fact that it was the Christmas season and an abundance of food commercials and parties with sugary treats were at every turn.  A liquid diet, followed by a pureed diet is all very bleak in the shadow of Christmas dinner Prime Rib.  Time passed, though, and the scale showed quick transformation, even when I could not see it. 


It takes the mind a lot longer to catch up with the weight loss.  I still don't see it sometimes.  I was almost 300 pounds when I had surgery.  I couldn't sit in a booth at some restaurants without the table digging into my stomach.  I couldn't fit in some bathroom stalls.  I dreaded flying, feeling deep embarrassment at the extra space my body would take up, crowding out the persons next to me.  I can't count the number of dressing rooms I cried in and the deep shame I felt when I had to shop in the men's section of the store to find a shirt that fit.  

Now 100 pounds lighter, I am thankful on a daily basis that my life is much improved from what it was when I was "morbidly obese".  Ouch.  Just typing those words hurts.  When I see my reflection in the mirror, I often have to look twice.  Is it really me?  I touch my collarbone as if to make sure it's still there.  The collarbone was, to me, the very image of femininity.  I couldn't see it before surgery.  Now I get such contentment at the sight of my necklace chain resting on it.  I can't get used to shopping in the Misses section rather than the Women's or Plus sized sections.  Unfathomably, a pair of Juniors jeans fit quite nicely the other day.  I look at them and hold them up, trying to discern whether they will fit, but again, my mind hasn't quite figured out what size I am, so it's a great deal of trial and error.  

The list of positives that comes with losing 100 pounds is quite long.  The way that size 10-12 feels compared to 24-26 or 3x is indescribable.  And yet, none of those wonderful feelings are enough to keep me away from the sugars and carbs.  This is how I know that food addiction is a reality.  So many times I've heard "Nothing tastes as good as thin feels".  If this were true, no one who has a sweet tooth would be overweight.  The amazing way that I feel about weighing what I do now, while incredible, is not enough to keep me from making poor decisions when it comes to food.  It's not enough to get me to the gym daily. It's not enough to keep sugar out of my kitchen.  


Food is still a very present issue in my life.  Certain events are tied to food - especially holidays.  Certain excursions are tied to food.  I will attend the Colorado Rockies game next month, and I will enjoy baseball.  But I will also enjoy some treats that are only found at the game - a hot dog, a lemonade, or perhaps some cotton candy.  I will see someone guzzling beer and eating nachos dripping in cheese, and I will instantly think of a savory soft pretzel.


Many bypass patients gain back all or more of their excess weight. Food will be an issue for me for the rest of my life.   On a daily basis I will battle cravings.  What I know intellectually to be right will spar with what I want in the moment.  I will refrain from bad choices some days, and I will give into them on others.  I will have to make conscious decisions about whether I choose to eat to live or whether I live to eat.  

Sometimes I can make the right decision for this moment only.  It will be one moment at a time, instead of one day at a time.  I will hear myself say, "Just get through this moment without overeating.  You can make it through this moment."  And I can!  Like most of the things I've set my mind to over the years, I can do this.  The difference this time is that it really is life or death, and it really is a matter of me choosing ME and my health over the taste of that chocolate.  I am the only one who can decide whether my worth is more than a bar of chocolate or a bowl of crackers.  And I'm thinking I just might be.  

Cutting Bait...When To Do It...

At some point in our lives, most of us have to determine whether or not to keep certain people in our lives.  Sometimes it is not for lack of love or care for them; rather, it is for self preservation and our own general well-being.  I have been struggling with this in my life lately.  I am so unsure what to do, though logically I know what is best.  

I've been learning a great deal about myself lately.  I realize how much I have people-pleased my way through life, hoping that if I can do enough for others, that they will like me in return.  Having, in my belief, not enough redeeming qualities to be loved just for me, I had to perform my way into people's hearts.  

It's all very exhausting. 

A wise friend recently told me, "It's time you started taking care of you, first."  What a concept!  I'd heard it before, but this time it really stuck, perhaps because I've reached a point where I'm just too darn worn out to be the person I used to be.  I don't have the mental or physical energy to be the friend that is always there for every little emergency.  And what's worse, I rarely get the same level of care and concern in return.  

Not that I am keeping some tally record of the great things I've done for others vs. what they do for me.  It's just that it gets to a point where I grow resentful for giving so much and getting so little.  Yet, whose fault is it?  I'm the one over-committing, overdoing and saying "I'm fine!" when I really would just like a hug.  I, of course, would prefer the people in my life have some psychic ability to know exactly what I need when I need it without me asking.

All those random thoughts aside, I have been struggling in a friendship lately.  For three years we have been super close friends.  I have been there for her for many ups and downs, some rather serious, in the past year especially.  Our lives just appear to be on different paths at this point, and although I still love her dearly, I'm not sure how good it is for me to be around her.  Constant drama and stress in her life affects mine, and I'm in a place where I have resolved to create as much peace in my life as possible.  I want positivity in my life.  It seems I can't maintain the friendship at the level it has functioned AND have a fully peaceful existence.  So I have to decide how much my relationship must change, or whether I am going to give up a certain amount of peace.  It's a tough call, and while I know I should focus on what's best for me, it's hard not to think about how it will affect her.  For the time being, I am journaling about it and hoping that through reflection the right choice will present itself. 

Better Living (or not) Through Chemistry...

I wrote last time about the love hate relationship I have had with my meds.  After a very rocky four weeks on Abilify, I am here to testify that meds can be as unhelpful as they are life-saving.  The list of potential side effects of psychiatric medications goes on for pages like the side effects of most medications.  It comes down to what side effects we are willing to put up for the benefits.  It's a tough call sometimes.  Should I choose my sanity and put up with x, y and z, or should I try a different medication and wait six weeks to see if it's effective and which side effects it will bring? 

Abilify made me manic, gave me a lovely rash on my face, and caused serious discomfort with my urinary tract. (Sorry for too much information, but I try to be honest about living with a mood disorder and all it entails).  I weaned myself off of it (I don't recommend doing this!!!) when my doctor failed to return my calls.
I'll be honest and say that the last few days of being on this medication were frightening.  My mind raced out of control with a zillion thoughts.  I went without sleep from Saturday morning until Tuesday night.  I wanted to spend money.  I had no appetite.  I cannot describe the way these elements combine to create the perfect storm inside  my head.  I was beside myself not knowing what to do.  Especially when calls to my doctor went unreturned.  Time for another doctor, perhaps, but that's another post. 

The past two days I've been much better.  I have a sense of peace and well-being that I hadn't realized was far gone once I started the Abilify.  It continually surprises me to see how different people react to different meds. Some people thrive on Abilify.  Some people thrive on Lamictal.  For me, these "mood stabilizers" have the opposite effect and send me into a manic episode.

The other strange part is that my episodes are mixed, meaning I have lots of great ideas and racing thoughts and sleeplessness that is typical of charged manic episodes, but I also get the achingly deep depression at the same time.  It's such a paradox, being high and low all at once.  I felt I was coming apart at the seams.  Yet, a few days later and I am back to my normal self. 

It's a frustrating process finding meds that work for me, but I am also very grateful for the meds that I take that keep me stable - even if I don't especially like to take them.

Necessary Evils...

Yesterday I saw my psychiatrist.  She is adding Abilify to my daily cocktail of meds.  This means that I am now taking six medications and thirteen pills daily, plus multivitamins required after gastric bypass.  I have been a little moody over the addition of another medication to my daily regimen, though I know that she intends to go down on other medications as the Abilify goes up.  

Tonight I was reading The Simple Abundance Companion, and it speaks of gratitude journals.  It specifically challenges readers to identify blessings in disguise - those aspects of life that are fear-provoking or irritating, but which really have an underlying blessing.  

My meds fall into this category.  I abhor swallowing those pills everyday.  Some days ever fiber of my being fights it.  Admittedly, there are days when I opt not to take them.  Sometimes I go as long as possible before nausea and shakiness begin reminding me that I depend on these medications.  I haven't quite ascertained what it is, exactly, that so offends me.

I had to look at my meds in this light of disguised blessings.  Without them, I likely wouldn't be alive, and if I were, my life would be a mess of mood swings, depression, anxiety and countless related problems.  These meds make quality life possible for me.  They may not be something I look forward to or even want as a part of my life, but without them, the ability to truly live my life would be impossible.  

So tonight I'm trying to find room in my heart to be grateful for those aspects of life that are "for my own good."  Sometimes thinking like a grown up is hard work.  

***UPDATE***

As fate would have it, five hours after I posted this I ended up in the ER for severe pain in my sternum and back.  Turns out I have an ulcer on my new stomach pouch.  That brings the med total to 15 pills a day plus supplements.  This is clearly a reminder to be grateful for what is, because it can always, always get worse!

This is Me...(Stolen from BP Magazine pg. 12)...

Favorite words:  goblin, bubble, snit, discombobulated, serendipity, groovy, love, peace

Favorite fictional hero:  Pip (Great Expectations by Charles Dickens)

Quality I most admire: Compassion. 


Talent:  I was, at one time, a very decent trumpet player. 


Favorite beverage:  Diet Sunkist, extra chilled.


Biggest breakthrough:  Asking for help when I need it without feeling as if it's a weakness.


Thoughts on the battle:  Every crummy experience sets me up to enjoy the good  all the more.  


What I rely on:  A loving husband and forgiving chihuahuas.


One wish:  That people don't feel they have to hide who they are. 


Current state of mind:  Sense of possibility.