178.4

It’s been about a month or so since I last posted my weight to this blog. I am happy to report that today at least, I weighed in at below 180. I believe this has to do not so much with my frequent running around Albany but instead the addition of weight training into my repertoire. I’ve never quite had too much success with weights in the past because I believe I pushed it too hard to quickly and at the same neglected to watch what I was eating.

Anyway, I found a very basic set of

instructions in August’s edition of Mens Health magazine which lays out three sets of exercises that can be done. I don’t have it in front of me right now, but I’ll share it with you later (if anyone is reading this).

This time around, I’ve really liked doing weight training. It’s exhilirating, particularly when the form is the right way. That and various reasonable abdominal exercises have really helped a lot.

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Accepting emotions

I went out of my office in late afternoon to have a cup of coffee and sit in the park near our building. I brought with me a copy of Mark Bowden’s Killing Pablo. Everything about the setting was beneficial to anyone seeking calm and perhaps serenity. The sun was was out and a medium blue sky was above. Trees shaded the walkways and the benches lined along them. Sitting down and reading was a bit tough, though. I wanted to enjoy the setting and read maybe 10 pages or so, but my mind kept drifting inward to something strange, but hard to identify. It was a few minutes before I realized what it was that seemed to be percolating and that was unguarded emotion, something that I have been used to putting out of its misery like a wounded dog for many years with food and sometimes booze or prescriptions they give you that are easy to mistakenly take the wrong way and for the wrong reasons.

The emotions that I felt were of lonesomeness, fear and warriness. It’s been a while since I stared them in the face and didn’t blink. It’s strange how emotions are supposed to help us to navigate life and for the most part serve a purpose and yet we also can’t help but avoid some while embracing others.

Maybe it’s alright to feel a bit lonely at times. It doesn’t need to be ignored, denied, buried or obscured. Perhaps anger at loved ones, friends and even ones self are reasonable responses towards certain situations. It could be that self-doubt is something that can bring forth greater faith in one’s own life.

When we’re left to face the potency of our emotions without flinching, it’s kinda scary. Next year I turn 30, which is one of those milestones in life. It is my hope that a decade from now – or sooner – I’ll have a better grasp over my emotions and be more accepting of them rather than trying to push them away. Today felt like a good step in that direction. I got up from the bench, went back to my desk and focused on some of what I was feeling, inviting it to stick around in my mind’s eye for a while without judging or encouraging it. For some reason, it made me feel more alive, though frightened. Strange how things work.

Klonopin withdrawal

Yesterday, I wrote a little bit about being a mindful observer of my anger. This morning – its’ 5:30 a.m. and I hardly slept – I realize that part of what I was experiencing was the side effect of withdrawal from about a month or so of steadily taking Klonopin.

For a decent part of eight years, I’ve been prescribed this medication to treat anxiety. When I was 21 and the panic and other anxiety disorders that had been largely sporadic in episodes  in my brain began to worsen, it was the yellow pills that helped to bring my mind into some balance. I’ll never forget the night in my apartment in Boston after more than a week of intense anxiety that I took one of these pills. It had been prescribed to me earlier in the day by a Chinese psychiatrist (no, not like some ancient medicinal root). She warned me that it was addictive so it would need to be managed well. When I finally did take it ours later, I noticed an effect within minutes. My brain, which had largely been in overdrive for days, seemed to slow down to a managable pace. I felt a bit more control. At the time, I had no idea that was the same drug a lot of people use to cut loose.

Over the past eight years, I have taken it on and off, but rarely night after night for more than a week. Since early June I was laying on it more than I should have for sleep and to relieve stresses that I normally can handle just through breathing or doing something I am about to do in a a few minutes, which is to go for a run. Klonopin was more helpful for me during times of intense panic that came night after night or in relaxing on an airplane. Though I have been prescribed a daily dosage, I’ve never taken it that way until recently.  So, beginning a few days ago, I began to taper back until yesterday, when I took literally one quarter of a pill.

Last night was an awful night in some senses and I think it was because of my body perhaps saying to me, “what the fuck, man go take some!”

I slept fitfully, and experienced two very frightening dreams. I also woke up in a panic at one point. Combined, although I laid down at 10 p.m. feeling restless, I slept on and off for probably a combined five hours. At one point I got up and turned on my computer to play a simulation baseball game I have. I had trouble thinking straight, though and my lineups made little sense (my players did perform very well though!). After a shower and some stretching, I put on a familiar song list on iTunes and ran my photos on a slideshow. I drifted off somewhere between Emmylou Harris singing “Sweet Dreams” and Ray Price and Willie Nelson singing “Soft Rain”. Still, I’m up early, but tired. I have little doubt this is my body’s response to not having the little yellow pill!

I want to only take it for flights and extreme panic attacks that keep me up. Like recently, when I finally ditched taking Ambien, I’ll go through some withdrawal, I’m sure. Right now, I’m going to put my sneakers on and head out for a run to see if that helps. After all, I’ve got a big day of work ahead of me and need all the calm I can get. Just not from a yellow pill.

Noticing anger

It was strange how I was just able to obsrve within myself how a little anger can impact and influence my thinking patterns. It’s interesting that I was able to sit in the impartial observer seat for a little while, noticing how frustration over something was causing me to think very negatively.

A few hours ago, I returned to my apartment from a nice fulfilling run in which I felt myself right in the moment most of the way, not thinking about work or money or anything else that my mind tends to want to drift off towards. My roommate and I had a minor argument about something and although I acknowledged he was right, I still felt a well of anger inside of me. The conflict was resolved, it didn’t involve shouting or anything, but for some reason, I felt mad. Mad at constructive and relavent criticism coming from this person. I went and took a shower and did some energy exercises and yet I still felt this negativity peppering the way I felt. As I drove to get a cup of coffee, everyone on the street, everything around me seemed to irritate me. At first I was mad at myself for feeling angry, but then I understood that I was in a beneficial situation. I was actually watching my mood change, observing a cause and effect relationship between my thoughts and my mood. Suddenly, it felt alright to be a bit angry, to acknowledge it, not judge it or try to bury it, but to see how it works.

Its alright to be angry, so long as you dont punch holes in the wall!

It's alright to be angry, so long as you don't punch holes in the wall! (that's not me right there)

I was angy because of the perfect shit storm of things coming at once; returning to work tomorrow after a few days off, something my roommate had said during our disagreement, and the fact that some of my days off were spent making repairs to something that was not my responsibility. All of these factors are reasonable in contributing to feeling anger. It’s alright to feel angry sometimes.

That said, I’m choosing to do somethign alright with it; to accept it as a lesson and to appreciate being able to witness how anger works without beating up on myself. Since sitting there with my  coffee, noticing my negative thoughts and accepting them without standing in judgment of myself, the anger has lost some of its punch and I actually feel quit better. Strange how these things work.

183.0 – No change

Well, at least I didn’t gain anything over the last day but maybe if I clipped my nasty toenails I’d realize some more weight loss success!

Today is my last day off for a few weeks. I work for one of the houses of the state legislature and the summer is generally speaking a quiet time. Unfortunately, due to circumstances in the last month, things were very busy. It felt good to get out for a few days and also to be blessed with some good weather. I only need to pull the tape off of the walls in my bedroom and I’m all set.

Not too much to report today. The weather is great and I wish I were down in Washington Park reading or just laying in the grass.  Instead I’m here readying myself for the task of pulling off the the rest of the blue tape that I used to guard the trim amd mouldings. There’s still a lot to be done. All that tape – perhaps a 500 feet worth of it – has to be picked off of the ground. One of my true pet peeves is in the weeks after you paint and still find that sticky blue tape everywhere. The worst is when it sticks to bottom of your shoes, pants or to the bristles of the broom you’re using to remove it. That’s why even if I have to make my back even more sore than it is by getting down on my hands and knees to pick it all up, I’ll do that. That’s how much I hate that stuff. Another pet peeve is something that really makes me feel like trash, which is paint cans. You know you’ve reached adulthood when you have tons of paint cans – empty or partially full – around your apartment. Over the last two years we’ve collected far too many. I just missed the city’s hazardous waste pick up day for the month, but early in August, I have an opportunity to get rid of the many cans of spent paint that litter my front and pack porches and make me feel like I’m living in a tragic trailer court. Well, time to take care of the tape.

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: Why does AMC edit from Bachelor Party the donkey snorting cocaine yet leaves in the shot of it eating qualudes and speed? I’d say I’d write a letter asking them, but really now, I hardly have the motivation or the sense of irony to do that.

183 on the dot

I’m like Delta Burke or worse, Kirstie Alley. One day I’m down some weight, the next day I’ve ballooned all the way back up. Holy Ho-Hos, I’m up to 183 from 182.6 just yesterday. Must have been that late night slice of bread. I’m such a fat piece of shit. I should torment myself for the rest of the day eating nothing but ice cubes and the dust bunnies I’m finding around the apartment. I’m monster.

Core-affirming thought runs

I’ve incorporated the core-affirming thoughts that I wrtoe about in my last blog into my running routine. Sometimes when I am running through this city, my mind drifts back to the things that I particularly don’t want to think about or perhaps would do better not to think about, like a lazy coworker, soemthing hurtful a friend or stranger may have said, the state of the world or the state of my wallet. These are allt hings that seem to take a toll, if overvalued on the whole person that I am because my focus becomes less on me without the externals and more on me made up of the things that bother me on the outside.

That said, harping online about the personal flaws in my thinking makes me feel a bit like a weakling, which I’m really not. I think everyone – from the smartest person in the world (which I am not) to the dumbest person in the world (which I’m not) fixates on externals. It’s just a matter of how well you can ignore them and not let them bother you. As annoying as they can be, I respect “bros” a bit because they are pretty cool with just saying “fuck it” about some of the defeating thoughts and project the tough, guy, ‘hell may care’ attitude. A pushover pussy I’m not, but neither am I a bro type.

I can’t tell. Perhaps I should, even at the old age of near 30, reinvent myself as a bro. Maybe it would preclude the need for c0re-affirming thoughts!