(photo courtesy of Miguel Á. Padriñán)

Nine weeks ago, we left our summer campsite to head south before my husband froze his manly bits off (he’s a cold weather wimp). It’s a huge transition to go from living in a 26-foot travel trailer to a home with multiple family members nearby. At our camp, our focus was mainly what projects we were going to work on with respect to our land and what we were going to eat for dinner that night.

I had an eating routine and an exercise routine (sort of). Our days were pretty predictable. We were either working on land clearing, hauling our bicycle built for two somewhere to ride, going to the grocery store, or socializing with my sister, her husband and friends. That was our life all summer…

It was simple, predictable and glorious…

I miss it already….

Now I’m back in what I guess is the ‘real’ world and life is more normal. I went to the bunch of medical appointments that happen when we get back. There is the complete house clean (I’m horrified at how many crickets (now dead) ended up in our house while we were gone…). There is the reunification with family. There is the pain and suffering of getting back to the gym (it was complete and total agony for two days after..). There is the struggle to keep on with my diet given the onslaught family dinners, weekends with kids and grandkids, and our date nights.

I'm still struggling to return to the same life we had before left to go to our camp for the summer. It just feels so hard. It didn’t seem this hard before we left and wasn’t this hard over the summer. It’s discouraging, and I'm mad at myself that I can't just jump back to the mindset I had when we left in May.

So, what is really going on with me?

I think this feeling is partly due to a medical appointment I had when I returned.  

I was really excited to see my endocrinologist, who has worked really hard to balance my medication so I didn't stop losing weight. He was very encouraged when I saw him before we left for the summer so I was thinking he would be amazed at how much weight I lost since I last saw him.  After all, I’d lost over 75 pounds since I’d become his patient.  He was very happy about both my weight loss and my blood work.

We discussed the few markers in my blood work that were below the range they should have been, but he assured me those results actually meant something was functioning better than normal and was excited to see that. I was riding high on all this good news...

And then I ruined it by asking:

“What weight should I be?” (aka can I stop dieting now?)

I was pretty sure I was headed for a maintenance diet.

I was wrong….

Apparently, I need to lose another 15 pounds to not be overweight.

It’s absurd for me to be upset about it, because if I can lose 70 pounds, I should be able to lose another 15 pounds. For some reason, I just couldn’t just shrug this off and say okay, three more months.

I’ve now gone from pouty to pissy to depressed. Not only because I’m going to be failing at dieting through the holidays, but because I was flat…. Out… WRONG about where I was at.

I know, I need to get over myself and suck it up.  But I'm stuck... and not in any kind of rut other than the rebellious one I've chosen to remain in. 

I think my cockiness about my weight loss and the transition back to our main home really knocked me off my ‘dieting game,’ so to speak.   I became lackadaisical (I'm channeling my mother with that word.....) It’s so easy to function when I have a routine and know what to expect. I can plan my food, shopping, exercise and there is little stress. Our routine since our return has been very ‘loose,’ not like it was before we left. I let my lack of routine and less than optimal eating take over. I think it has made me a bit anxious.  Also, I think I was riding high on my success and being knocked down a peg or two really pissed me off. 

And now, as I'm whining about this, I've just this second realized why this doctor appointment is bothering me so much and why I have strong feelings about it.  This blog helps me too....

I had a father who never liked to give out praise and was uncomfortable with emotion and affection. Getting validation from him was hard. I was a classic over-achiever in school, working hard to get in order to get the validation and approval from my parents in a way that I needed, but my parents mostly couldn't give.

My head knows that they loved me and were very proud of me. My heart is still trying to remember that. My dad's carrot of praise always seemed out of reach. If I got an "A" on a test or assignment, why couldn't I have gotten an "A+"? If I worked hard cleaning something, why did I miss that dust molecule on the top of the cabinet? You get the idea.

The doctor's response brought me right back to my childhood baggage. When the doctor answered my question honestly, my heart heard this:

"It's great that you lost 70 pounds.... but you should have lost 85...." 

Even though the doctor was very pleased with my weight loss, I still felt like someone was telling me that what I did wasn't good enough. On top of that, I'm letting perfection be the enemy of the good, which is something my husband has wisely warned me about sooooo many times.

It's tough being an 'all or nothing' person sometimes but I'm working on getting over that. 

Since this appointment, I have felt very 'blah' and unable to get back to a routine. My weight has fluctuated up and down a few pounds since we left camp. I am not exercising as regularly as I was. I just didn't feel like going to the gym. I just didn't feel like doing anything. 

So, now what? How do I move forward?

I have come to realize that I NEED a routine. There is a certain amount of security that comes with a routine. I think it’s important to have predictability while doing this diet, maybe in the form of a routine if we can manage that. I think it helps us to stay focused on the end goal and not get distracted by the details of life happening. It’s comforting to know what is going to happen and what I am going to eat. It feels safe.

I let the adjustment of being back home, plus my own arrogance about where I was at, knock me off my game. I didn’t stay the course until I knew for sure where I needed to be.

The irony of my needing routine is that normally I’d be screaming loudly that I’m in a rut and I hate it. I like the excitement of the unknown, the thrill of what’s around the corner. It’s one of the reasons I love riding a bicycle. Seeing new places and new things from a different perspective, eagerly waiting to see what is around the bend. Feeling like an explorer. I love it.

But...right now? Gimme that rut!

(The rut may have to wait until after the holidays....)