This One Has No Title

Turned 57 on August 14.

As if 2020 hasn’t been weird enough, these last few weeks have been particularly weird. Maybe weird isn’t the right word. I’ll keep writing and see if a more appropriate word becomes apparent.

It’s been a hodgepodge of things – both that I’ve made happen and naturally occurring – that have kept me on my toes. First off, my liver has decided it’s not happy with my food and drink choices of the last year or two – and I don’t blame it one bit! – so I’m on the wagon, both nutritionally and in the imbibing department.

Not drinking alcohol is kind of weird since it has been part of my routine for years. I don’t miss it physically or psychologically, as in I don’t crave it. In fact, I have way more energy and I sleep better. It’s the social aspect of it I miss. Drinking sparkling water with lime, which I love, isn’t the same as sharing a bottle of wine with my partner or making and consuming homemade basil gimlets with my daughters.

The food part has been a more difficult adjustment than the alcohol. I prefer white rice over brown, white pasta over whole wheat, and ice cream over sorbet. I know, this isn’t how I used to eat; this isn’t the me you might have “met” back in the Lynn’s Weigh days. But over the last few years I’ve basically – honestly and in a nut shell – not cared. Perhaps it was the years of restrictive eating, perhaps it was menopause, perhaps it’s living with a foodie. Whatever the reasons, the choices were mine and the “blame” falls squarely on me.

Unlike fifteen years ago, though, I’m not going to share my numbers or food woes, concerns or successes. I’m just gonna clean up my liver quietly and do my best to be a healthier fifty-seven-year-old (although I reserve the right to write around it here once in a while).

I bought a scale. I haven’t owned one in six years, and I haven’t been on one since October when I was last at the doctor’s office. You can’t weigh someone during a telemedicine visit, so I figured I’d better get one so I can update my doctor on my progress. Not that losing weight is the primary goal, but that’s what will ultimately happen in the long run as I “eat clean.”

I never look at the number on the scale at the doctor’s office, and I don’t look at the after-appointment summary which lists my weight, height, blood pressure, etc. I had a pretty good idea what I weighed, which I assumed has remained the same for years since all my clothes fit, but I needed to know the number. I looked up my last summary online and yes, it was what I thought. Not horrible, but a change will do my body good.

While my weight hasn’t changed, my height has! In my thirties, I was five feet, five and a half inches, and maybe a hair more. When I shrunk to five feet, five inches in, oh…2009 I think, my doctor ordered a bone density scan. Turned out that, in my mid-forties, I had the bones of a thirty year old. People shrink was the explanation my doctor gave me. Now, eleven years later, I am five feet, four and a half inches. Is it because I have new hips that I lost another half inch? If not, at this rate, I’ll need a car seat when I’m eighty!

Speaking of new hips, I officially own my left hip. I paid off the hospital today, thirteen months after my surgery. Not that I was worried that they’d repossess, but given this crazyass year, anything is possible.

Something I’ve noticed the last few weeks – as I’ve contemplated my liver and height and getting older – is that I’m more pessimistic than I realized, and I don’t think I can blame it on the pandemic. I’m not quite Eeyore, but I’m further away from the optimist I was at forty. I’ve noticed that at 3 a.m., when I do my worst thinking, I’m having even longer stretches of bad thinking before I break it up and remember that I can deal with / handle / change / work through whatever it is I’m turning over and over (and over) in my head at that moment.

For instance, last night I was all worried about the three-month subscription for smoothie powders my daughter bought me. Twenty different flavors arrived in the mail on Saturday. I was excited to try them, so I made one yesterday, mixing my milk of choice (an unsweetened nut milk) with the packet of powder. When I brought the bottle to my mouth, however, my gag reflexes went on high alert. I tried four times to drink it before dumping it down the sink. Maybe it was the milk I used, but if I’m going to try that particular flavor again, I’m going to need to bury it in something that will mask the smell, sort of like throwing lime on a deer carcass.

These powders aren’t cheap, and that was at the heart of my middle-of-the-night concern. “I don’t want to waste money. Oh, what’s the use, I’ll never get it right…” that kind of thing. But I just have to keep trying. That’s it. That’s the solution. Keep trying. Don’t give up before I’ve exhausted every possibility. You’d think I’d know that by now since that’s the solution to most obstacles we face in life.

Despite being old enough to get a ten-percent discount at Perkins, I’m not too old to employ new strategies for incorporating more positive self-talk than comes natural for me. I’ve enlisted the help of the Gratitude app. (You can find it on Google Play or the App Store. The logo is an orange square with a simple heart flower in the center.) It’s private, so no one can read your business, and it includes writing an affirmation every day. Today my affirmation was, “I am a writer, and today I will act accordingly.”

So here you go, a bit of writing that I hope, as always, will resonate with at least one person, because being alone in our thoughts and circumstances is a difficult way to live. I told you about my liver and height and the fact that it took me over a year to pay off a hospital bill because it helps to know, even if I don’t get feedback from anyone, that someone read through to the end, and maybe now they don’t feel quite as alone anymore, either.

I still haven’t come up with a better word than “weird,” so I’ll leave it at that. It’s been a weird few weeks, but nothing I can’t handle.

11 thoughts on “This One Has No Title

  1. I read through to the end, as I do with anything you write, Lynn. I can so relate to much of what you’ve written, as is often the case. I lost over 100 lbs. 12 years ago and have managed to gain over half of it back. And over this pandemic time, I’ve managed to add 20 lbs. I go from feeling hopeless and saying “to hell with it” and mortified that I’m in this state, to “get your sh&t together” which lasts for only a short time. ( I also avoid the scale). And then I feel guilty because I have so much to be grateful for. I’m going to try the gratitude app. Thanks for sharing and best of luck on your health journey.

  2. Thank YOU for sharing, too! I love the Grateful app because it’s so simple and not filled with all kinds of pithy stuff, you know? Best to you with that. Yeah, it’s easy to take the hell-with-it attitude, especially now. I’m not super excited about having to go down this path again, but like you said, I have so much to be grateful for and I want to stick around as long as I can, and being “healthy” is the way to do it.

  3. Weird, wonky & wacky – I agree with you 100%!! Sorry to hear about your recalcitrant liver, but how nice to own your hip outright! It seems so long ago you were writing about your surgery – how fortunate to have had it all taken care of before the pandemic became a factor. Crossing fingers all your numbers get to a comfortable place.

    1. Thanks, emmaclaire! Yes, it doesn’t feel like a year since the hip surgery. I love the words wonky and wacky, too! They certainly fit.

  4. Auntie Lynn, I hope your liver recovers quickly. Keep on writing and posting. I enjoy these brief glimpses into your life.

  5. Hope everything goes well with your liver. Thank you for sharing on Facebook and will be reading the other posts! Love your ability to make it seem like you are here in person.

  6. Hi, Lynn, I’ve commented before, but not in a long time. Just wanted to let you know that I read and enjoy every post and was so interested to hear about your upcoming (I hope!) work on grief.
    The life I live is pretty different from yours, but I’ve wondered for years why your life experiences, and your take on them, have always struck such familiar chords with me. It’s often felt like I lived a life much similar to yours, in a different life, or something. Or how my life could have easily turned, perhaps, to become very similar to yours, as I’ve understood it from your writings. I’m sorry if that sounds really strange or weird, I don’t understand it or know how else to express it. Just felt compelled at this time to let you know. Also, the courage you show in your openness to sharing your experiences is impressive to me.

  7. Sharyn, I don’t know if you’ll see this reply or not, but I wanted to thank you for your kind response. (And it’s not strange or weird at all!) I believe that we all have many things in common, even if we don’t share the same experiences. Universal themes of love, loss, empathy, compassion, disappointment, bad decisions, etc… if we’re open to them, we can see them and relate to them in so many kinds of writing. I loved how you expressed this, though, through questioning yourself why my life resonates with you. That tickles me, actually 🙂 Thank you so much for writing and letting me know how you felt. Hope this finds you well. Lynn

  8. Thank you, Lynn, for this reply. I know you are right – on a deeper, more important level we are all so much more alike than we are different. An excellent writer like you helps us feel that.

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