Self-Help

I was reading a book for work about stress, since lately I’ve been having almost as many stress management calls as weight loss calls (or the two go hand-in-hand).  The section I was reading was about different types of thinking that cause stress for people.  I nearly laughed out loud when I read this, because I think it describes me to a T.  It’s somewhat annoying to come across something that hits home in a self-help book isn’t it? 

Sooooo, book, are you saying the world is not fair and just?  And my adamant foot-stomping approach to life that it should be is causing me stress?  Huh.

Life coach, coach thyself. 

PS, This actually is one of the best books I’ve read on stress.  And I think legally I’m supposed to tell you that I was not paid to endorse this book.  I’m not sure, but I figure CYA is the best approach in this case.

An Extra Day

Heather asked me if I felt like I had so much more free time now that I have an extra day off from work every week with my new schedule.  The answer is actually, no… I don’t.  But I feel like I can use my time better and I have more meaningful time, and I think that’s a fair trade.

With the 10-hour day plus a 40-minute commute, I’m basically gone from either 7-7 or 9-9 depending on which of my 2 shifts I have (8:00-6:30 or 9:30-8:00).  I don’t really have time to do many of the things I did after work before: cook dinners, run errands, make social dates.  I sometimes squeeze a workout in on either side of one of those shifts, but that tends to be about it.  But that’s okay: I’ve always believed that doing things in batches in more efficient (thank you, GapKids) and I find that having an extra off day gives me one day to knock out errands, clean house, or visit people I’d have a hard time fitting into a regular week day.  For example, last weekend I drove up to DC which I probably wouldn’t have attempted doing after work on a Friday and in two weeks, I’m making a day trip to Raleigh to photograph my sweet wino niece, Claire. 

My extra day off feels like a freebie: a life maintenance day.  I tend to schedule it to the hilt if I’m in town, but so far the trade off has been that it feels like I’m getting to relax a little bit more on the weekends.  My weeks alternate: one week I have a Thursday off, the next a Friday.

This week was a Thursday, and I had my day planned out to the hour.  That may sound not fun and a little AR, but it makes me happy to be organized and productive.  This was my schedule I wrote out at work the night before.  Please don’t judge, I am one of those people who likes to write things down for the sake of crossing them off.  So yes, “relax” and “wake up” are on my to do list.

You’re judging aren’t you?

I didn’t quite follow this to a T: namely, I started working on the website copy the night before and was feeling total writer’s block and decided that some wine would help things along.  A, ahem, few glasses later I finished it (yes, it requires editing) along with the emails so when I ignored the alarm at 7:00 and didn’t get out of bed til Matt strode in at 7:30 I didn’t feel too bad. 

There’s something liberating, though, about being free on a “work day” that even though I’m doing mostly productive things, it still feels fun.  Like when your Mom would sign you out of school to go to a doctor’s appointment.

I got to go running in the middle of the day, when the sun was shining and hit up the grocery store when the lines were short, and not feel the least bit annoyed that my doctor was running 45 minutes and I was getting docked at work for it.  So there’s that.  (By the way, I love my doc and I try never to gripe about his lateness, because as soon as he gets to my appointment, he sits there as if he has all the time in the world for me and answers every question I come in with, before taking a few minutes to ask about Matt and my running and my work.  I’ll take some extra waiting room time for that kind of bedside manner, thanks.  Unrelated, but I wanted to be clear that I wasn’t really griping about him.)  Anywho, I digress…

I haven’t quite mastered my full day of cooking yet like I had intended to, but Matt has been working evenings this last week in the PICU so our eating schedule has been so off anyways.  I did do a little bit of cooking ahead this weekend, including this lasagna from friend Kathryn and marinating & grilling a whole mess of chicken breasts to throw on top of salads, pasta or sandwiches.  So you know, a few less Lean Cuisines, a few more real cuisine this week. 

All in all, despite the trade off of the extra long days… and they do feel long, but I know lots of people work a 10 hour day without the extra day off, I’m pretty pleased with how this new schedule of mine is working out.

And this guy?  Doesn’t mind me being home an extra day, either. 

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

It's a scene out of a college brochure: 20 of us sitting underneath a large oak tree on a beautiful green campus, with brick buildings covered in ivy as a backdrop. We're discussing Siddhartha, or at least 19 of us are.

I am desperately willing myself not to start crying.

I'm so homesick that thoughts of my house, my bed, my dog, my mom and dad, my boyfriend, even my clothes-stealing-sister wash over me in waves. I will myself to choke back the lump in my throat, and to nod attentively when it seemed appropriate.

I was 17 years old, and it was my 2nd day out of a 3 week stay at a camp in Boston and I was miserably homesick.

The feeling passed, of course, and the experience went on to be one of the highlights of my teenage years. It did everything that a life-changing cliché experience is supposed to do: pushed me past my comfort zone. Stretched my confidence. Made new friends. Appreciated the life I had. Learned to embrace change.

Ok, scratch that last one. There are some people who run downhill open-armed at change and embrace it with the ferocity of seeing an old friend. Then there are people like me, who threw a fit at 8 years old about going to Hawaii.... because it meant not going to the same condo in Myrtle Beach we had gone to for the 7 prior years of my life.

I like routines. I like going to bed at the same time, waking up at the same time. Running on the same days. Seeing the same people. Buying the same groceries. I thrive in patterns, in predictability and consistency.

Change, of course, is constant and good for you and something I've forced myself to get used to because you have to. Like eating broccoli and cleaning the pink mold out of toilet, you just accept that it's something you better do.

My experience at nerd camp armed me so when the same tidal waves of homesickness hit me my first week of college, I steeled myself with the knowledge they would past. When I moved to Durham for an internship by myself. To Spain. To Baltimore, for grad school. Every big change in my life has been marked by the same pattern: excitement as the event approaches, dread the moment I arrive, doubt as I sink into it, fear that I've made a mistake and I'll never be happy again, and patience to know that feeling will pass.

It always passes, and the new experience is everything that new experiences are meant to be. Even Hawaii was not as bad as I thought it was going to be.

It's been almost two weeks of working my new job, and while I'm past the first-day-jitters, I'm still sort of bobbing along somewhere in between doubt and patience. With each experience and with maturity has come the recognition that, by virtue of being in charge of my thoughts, I'm also in charge of how quickly I move through each stage of the change. It's hard to leave comfort, predictability and routine behind - even when it really wasn't working for you anymore.

Fortunately, I now know that my days under the oak tree fighting off my longing for what's familiar will be numbered, and in a matter of days, weeks or maybe even months, I'll be settled in and wondering what all that fuss was about anyways.

Good-bye, Old Friend.

Last day of work.  We had a good run, WFU. 

It Doesn’t Matter

I made a big decision this week. The kind of decision where right/wrong aren’t crystal clear, and right before you fall asleep at night you think you know what you're going to do and then you wake up the next morning and the temporary respite of resolution has disappeared again.

I was offered a job on Tuesday. I began my job search two months ago, after receiving confirmation at my annual review that, despite the fact that everyone was really happy with me, the funding for my grant-based job was ending in June and there was nothing in the pipeline that matched my skill set: weight loss expert without an RD, health interventionist not interested in teaching exercise. I had created a niche for myself in my current position that although I seem to be fairly good at, doesn't really exist in other grants. Small problem.

So I started tentatively looking. My expectation was that finding a job could be a half-year project, or more. I applied to anything that seemed remotely appropriate, hoping that interviews would at least be good practice. I heard nothing. Not even rejections.

In early August, I found a job that I loved the sound of and applied, expecting the usual - nothing. Two days later I got a phone call. A week later, an interview. Another week later, an offer.

It all happened so quickly, I barely had time to process it. All throughout my job search, I thought of course, of course, if I find another job, I'll leave. I mean, HELLO, I don't have a job in 8 months. (Although I did lobby hard to try and convince Matt that Buddy could really benefit from me becoming his Stay at Home Mommy. I'll just pretend he was so enthralled with his PTI episode that he didn't hear me ask. All thirty times.)

All through the offer process, I thought I would accept.

And then, an agreement was made and it was time to decide. I started freaking out.

"Can I really leave my participants?" "Shouldn't I finish out the study?" "I really like my co-workers, and I have loads of vacation days saved up, and I can do my job with my eyes closed... what if I hate my new coworkers? and I can't go on vacation? And learning a new job is HARD?" My stomach churned while I tried to decide what to do. I was sitting in my car outside my office, and I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed that God would tell me what the right answer was.

::::crickets:::

So I called Matt, my Mom, my Dad, Jamie, Heather. Anyone who would listen to me sort of the reasons to stay or go.

I realized that most of my reasons for saying no were lodged in fear: fear that my current employers would think poorly of me for leaving, fear that I wouldn't like or be as successful at the new job, or like my coworkers, or that I wouldn't be able to find anything good on XM radio for the extra 10 minutes in the car both ways.

Fear, as it turns out, is a pretty crappy excuse to avoid doing things. So, I decided to go for it. I punched the return call button on my phone, and said yes. I hung up, and called back Matt, my Mom, my Dad, Jamie and Heather. (Thanks yall.)

I didn't really feel the excitement of my decision until after I had gotten through the hard task of telling my 3 bosses and my 4 co-workers. Their reactions were mixed, but those who were most impacted by my decision to leave were supportive, which confirmed my decision.

By Friday, it was official. Everyone at work knew, and preparations were underway for my departure. It hit me as I was erasing my name for the September schedule that this was real: I was leaving. I was leaving the study that I had created out of my clueless, naive, hoping for the best little head and heart 4 years ago. Panic and guilt started to set in. Did I make the right decision? Too late now, I told myself. Move forward.

That night, we all gathered at Zac and Jamie's to celebrate two birthdays and, as Jamie's email lovingly put it, "my awesomeness." Happy hour turned into five hours as a group of amazing people sat around a patio table taking slices of Burke St Pizza and pouring glasses of Cook's champagne, laughter and conversation accentuated by the flickering lights of candles in tin lanterns.

I was leaning back in my chair looking around at this group with such contentment when I heard with absolute clarity the answer to my prayer that I had spoken 3 days prior.

"It doesn't matter."

When truth hits you, you know it. I knew it then: there had been no right or wrong choice to be made. Where you spend 40 (plus) hours a week is important, and being happy there is a big slice of life. But it’s just that: a slice of life. Making a living is simply so much more than just where the paycheck comes from.

Just In Case You’re Wondering….

40 balloons don’t fit very easily into a CR-V.

Especially when you have an anxious Sheltie in the front seat.

Today was the last day of class for one of my groups at WFU.  Together, they lost a combined total of 909 pounds!  Amazing.  I don’t talk too much about work on here (see: dooced, see: HIPAA), but I just have to say it’s pretty amazing to go to work every day and be part of a program where people show up every day to try and better themselves. 

I often get bogged down in the day-to-day there, but days like today – graduation day – help me remember what it’s all about. 

“Life is change.  Growth is optional.  Choose wisely.” – Karen Kaiser Clark (Motivational Speaker)

Occasionally I Get Dressed For Work

This is my favorite time of the entire week. I've worked out my schedule so I cram all the craziness into Monday through Wednesday, and by the end of the week things are slowing down. Friday mornings I make phone calls that start at 7:15 and usually go until about 10. Back in November I started making those phone calls from home and then going into the office afterwards. One day I decided just to stay at home, and get work done there. Lo and behold, I got more done at home than I had in the office. I always thought I'd struggle with working from home - that between the pantry full of snacks and the beckoning lure of getting some extra laundry done I'd get too distracted. Turns out I like my work more than I like folding laundry, whatdoyaknow. I get way more done at home. When you share an office with 3 other staff and a team of about 20 undergrads who frequently stop by - it's amazing what a respite an 8 hour shift with no interaction other than my Pandora asking me if I'm still there can be.

I wake up at 6 and slip into the den with a cup of chai, and start by answering emails. It's always a nice touch to send my boss an email with a 6:08 am timestamp - just to sort of say hey, not only am I working, but I'm working early. No slacking here... even though I am in my jammies. Once the emails are done, I write. It's either a weight loss-related blog or updating a powerpoint with the latest and greatest nutrition/coaching findings, but I've found that 6 am to 7 am is when my creative juices are amped up so I try to take advantage. Or, maybe it's the caffeine and sugar, but whatevs. It works. (Today: hunting down a journal article about yoga turning on genes that combat oxidative stress. Is Om the new blueberries?!?! Yea, this is what makes me go "woohoo!") Once I've committed the updates to e-paper, it's phone call time. The next three hours I do anywhere from 4-6 coaching sessions, and they fly by. With my feet propped up on the windowsill, I watch the sun rise over the tops of my neighbor's roof while furiously scribbling notes and asking prying questions about emotional eating, portion control and "are you still using your measuring cups?" Time slips by stealthily when I'm coaching. By the time I hang up on my last phone call, it's hard to believe I've been working for nearly four hours and it's time for a break.

Last week I decided to implement a yoga workout into my day. A combination of wanting to bolster my antioxidant capacities (aka reduce stress), release the computer-posture knots in my back and neck, and get back at the wii Fit for telling me "balance just wasn't my thing" sparked this new trend. I've only done it once, but I figure if I write it on my blog that has to hold me accountable right? Despite having no qualms about exercise in general, yoga is something I have just never been able to commit to on a regular basis. I enjoy it. I see the benefits when I do it more than, say, three times in a row. I don't even really mind how much I really suck at it. But for some reason, I seem to be as committed to doing it regularly as I am to quitting caffeine. (See: second bag of chai steeping.) But, I'm going to try. Again. So hear me now, internets, I'm adding in yoga on Fridays. Check me.

After my yoga break (which previously was a Facebook, g-chat and/or random youtube googling break -pro.freaking.ductive), it's on to the mindless stuff that for some reason I can tolerate much better at home than I can in the office. Maybe it's because I don't have a window in the office, and the penitential feel of florescent lighting and eggshell painting just contribute to the tedium of data entry and scheduling. Someone has to do it, and until I hire a VA, that someone is me. A couple hours of plugging in this week's weight loss into my oh so cumbersome web tracker and figuring out what times the hospital will do a DXA scan on my participants, and I'm totally spent but it's done. The same tasks used to get spread out into three or four hour-long slots I had during the week, crammed in between meetings and teaching classes. I never felt like I had a handle on it. Getting it done in one fell swoop is the band-aid rip of my work week. It's usually about three o'clock by this time, and when you start at 6 am, boy oh boy that's quitting time. If my hub is home at this time, he'll ply me away from my cocoon in the den with the lure of a cold beer in a pink coozie and an episode of Entourage. The weekend officially starts with that short walk from den to living room. If that's not a perfect work day, I'm not sure what is.

Tis the season to be eating... fa la lala ...oooof.

I feel like I have been eating non-stop for 4 days. (A stunning declaration when you consider I've been teaching "Holiday Eating" for the last 2 weeks to 180 frantic, panicked, weight loss participants.) It kicked off with the chowder followed by Christmas Cookies on Saturday - I've never been much for moderation when it comes to iced sugar cookies. Sunday followed it up with the sampling of low-calorie buckeyes I was making, and a late dinner at Putter's.

Monday was our departmental Christmas party at Riverburch. Due to the lay out of the party - food due North, wine and beer at East & West, and my hesitancy to navigate north and risk enforced mingling with medical campus staff I didn't know ("oh! have you met so & so?") I held camp near the wine bar with the rest of the research staff. Staff and faculty mix like oil and water at these events, so my antisocial behavior, while not entirely appropriate, is not unusual for our department. One brave staffer parted the seas and grabbed me a plate of shrimp cocktail, fortunately preventing the wine + empty stomach = no driving home.

Tuesday was our staff luncheon at Village Tavern, capped off by a monthly dinner date with my friend Suzanne at Hutch & Harris. This was my first visit to H&H, but I could no more fit an entree into my belly than could one person squeeze onto a 5 pm metrocar headed to Ballston. So I had a soup and salad, and lovingly packed up an bowl of She-Crab Soup to take home to the hubby. (I failed to look at the serving however, until I arrived home and we noted that a "to go" bowl serving is approximately 2 tablespoons. Thanks, H&H.) PS, Tuesday night is free taco night if you ordered a $5 margarita. What what! I already had my wine order in before I found that out, but note to you, savvy Winston-Salem diner, for future reference.

Wednesday reached an all-time high in the calorie consumption with our participant potluck party. I love watching the different dishes stroll through the door. My "weight loss" participants show up for the first hour, laden with fruit salads, shrimp cocktail and veggie trays. The next hour brings "weight loss + exercise" participants who tend to be a little more liberal, with baked chicken entrees, some low calorie desserts, chips + salsa, soups, roasted veggie dishes and other delectable but healthy treats. The final hour is dedicated to "exercise only" - a group to whom no nutritional information has been given - and this is when the fried chicken, ham biscuits, green bean casserole and coconut cake that covered dish parties in the South are known for all make their appearance. As they arrived, my "combo" folks were packing up and I watched the panic cross their face as they saw many of their former temptations arrive on the buffet.

One of my participants pulled me aside, her voice dripping with concern. "Who brought the Krispy Kremes?" she practically hissed. "An exercise only person," I told her as I patted her arm consolingly. "You should probably go - it's only going to get worse from here," I recommended, as I spied the unmistakable yellow and red of a Bojangles box approaching from the parking lot.

All of our participants loved playing Monica's new toy - the wii Fit. However, it was a little awkward when the wii Fit age proclaimed many of them to be 12-15 years older than their actual age or loudly pronounced "You are OBESE" as the little Mii man blew up to twice his size. Errrm.... well..... *shrugs*

One of our greatest success stories, a woman has maintained a 40 pound lost stepped on the wii to test her fit age. A combination of BMI, posture, balance and agility determines your fitness age. Her elation when the wii declared her THIRTY years younger than her actual age? Unmeasurable. Her celebration was just another reminder of why I love my job.

And today, the final day before our 2 week Christmas vacation, is another reason I love my job. Remember how the day before vacation in school was always a waste of a day? You might watch a video, maybe do a worksheet, and then trade presents with friends and dutifully turn in your present (that your mom picked out - a candle, a bar of soap, a gift card to barnes & nobles) to teacher. That is what my last day of work before a holiday tends to be like.

I had 2 phone call coaching sessions this morning, and in about fifteen minutes I'll head over to our center to mingle with exercising participants. I'll work maybe a half day, I won't teach anything, and I'll give out lots of hugs and reminders to eat healthy and weigh thyself over the holiday. Then around 1:15, as the last of my participants head out the door, I'll briefly consider going into the office to do some data entry before convicning myself that "nah. I'll do some over the break."

Then I'll come home, to my already-vacationing hubby, and our 2-week, much-awaited, it's finally here Christmas Vacation will begin. Merry Christmas!