Six months ago, I was able to get off anti-depressants. I had been taking them since Mom got sick. Once I started running, I found a new state of content, and with my doctor's help, slowly decreased the dosage until I was able to be completely off. Now, when people ask what I "am on" to keep me happy after Mom died, I tell them, "Jesus and Vitamin Brooks." They look at me funny until I hold up my running shoe. Which I wear every day because they remind me that I need to move my butt.
http://blogs.webmd.com/food-and-nutrition/2012/08/your-brain-on-exercise.html Want proof that exercise is excellent for your attitude? Read the article I linked to above. I read it about two years ago, and decided that I HAD to move, not just for my weight, which I fight with daily, but my well-being.
Running not only improves balance with time, but it also helps with awareness, test scores, muscle tone, digestion, and sleep quality. It is seriously the best medicine for being blue. That doesn't mean that you toss that Prozac right this second. Instead, create a regular exercise regimen and stick with it. If and when you feel better, then talk to your doctor to determine the best method of coming down from the medicine. All anti-depressants are mind altering in some way, so it is important to not stop taking them cold turkey.
I was doing GREAT until I came across a news story yesterday in regards to Wal Mart labeling plus sized women costumes, "Fat Girl Costumes." http://www.msn.com/en-us/money/companies/mega-retailer-uses-fat-girl-costume-category/ar-BBbxyKH?ocid=anscnbc11 That made me heartsick. I hate being called "fat" even though technically, I am not anymore. But anyone can tell you the first time they were ever poked and told they were "fat." It never felt good. It never came out nicely. An apology from the company came, but that is honestly how they feel about their customers. Nice.
Some people thought it was funny. I understand. If you have never been overweight, or if you don't care (Mama June), then yes, this could be possibly construed as humorous. But if you were a little girl in a bathroom and had your aunt tell you "You sure are getting fat, aren't you?" It can be taken differently. Suddenly that "chunk" was a thing to be ashamed of, embarrassed by, and something to loathe. All of which I did. I wanted to be a "skinny" girl.
I tried starving myself in junior high. That went horribly. First, I had a teacher tell my Mom, then I got a cavity from the brief amount of purging I did. Oh, and I didn't lose any weight. Not a single pound. My Mom told me we were "big boned" and I should appreciate how I looked.
By high school, I had tried almost every diet out there. But it didn't help that our families idea of diet food was eating a box of Snack Wells Devil Food cookies, because they were "low fat." We worked out to Richard Simmons "Sweatin' to the Oldies." The long and short of it was we didn't know how to be healthy, thin, people. We thought we were doing the right things to lose weight.
The scale didn't move until I moved out. I started reading books that said to use real butter, not margarine. Literature that told me carbohydrates are actually sugar in disguise. Your body stores them the same way in digestion (I was the pasta queen- so not good news). I found out that meat should be eaten in moderation and vegetables should be cooked al dente not with a cheese coating. I quit buying processed garbage and spent a small fortune at Pampered Chef. I still have the items I bought, so it was a good investment.
I know I am so much better off than I was before. I know that I have to exercise six days a week. I know that NO ONE is going to take care of my body except me. I know that I am unconditionally loved. I know that my weight is just a number. I know that I am a valuable member of society with two of the best kids on the planet. I know that this too shall pass. I hope you know these things too. Because we are precious, no matter how a store marks our size.
Copyright October 28, 2014 H. Jennings 99037 United States of America. No publication, reproduction, translation, spinning, or otherwise using this post without my permission. Because I am very bossy. Ask my sisters. Also, if you do decide to rip-off my work, I hope karma comes in the form of being attacked by a cat in your face. Not a tiger or anything, just a house cat with litter-box claws straight to your nose.
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