by Tish MacWebber | Feb 23, 2017 | Trust Your Gut
Trust Your Gut is a series of stories about real people with weight issues, and complications arising from those issues. It will explain what the person is facing, what their options are, what they have decided to do to take action, and why they chose the path they are on. Each person’s story will be based on truth, so it won’t all be happy; but it will be real. The goal of this series is to get people talking about options that are available for people who have weight issues, on either end of the scale. If you would like to contribute to this series, there is a contact form linked on my Home page for this blog. I know there are people out there that want to help people like them; as I do.
The names here may or may not reflect the person’s real name. If someone wants to remain unknown, we will choose a different name for that person’s story. The goal is to help people, and anonymity is a valid personal choice for contributors. I will use a person’s name only if they give permission to do so.
This week I am pleased to share the story of a friend. It is written in her own words, and she submitted it earlier this week with her permission to share it as a part of the series.
Here is Trust Your Gut: Megan’s Story
My name is Megan, and this is my story. Buckle in, and grab a coffee, it’s a long one.
For as long as I can remember I have struggled with my weight. I started gaining weight in grade school. There wasn’t a traumatic event, and I never went hungry that I can remember, so I am unsure of what triggered my need for food. But I remember that it started early, and I learned to sneak and hide my extra food early as well.
I can remember coming home on half day Wednesdays at lunch time, and loving it because the babysitter that was at the house all day for my baby brother would serve me a huge plate of fries while I watched Inspector Gadget on the TV. Most of my allowance was spent on junk food, but I didn’t gain a lot at first because I was really active. I was running and playing with my friends in the schoolyard at lunchtime, I would ride my bike everywhere in the summer, and weekends were filled with either roller skating, ice skating, or skiing.
Junior High School came, and I started to gain a little more. I remember being uncomfortable in my body, but I figured that as long as I wasn’t the biggest kid in school that I was still ok. My parents took note of my continuous gain, and tried their hand at helping me. Mom would make me go for walks around the neighbourhood with her, and we had workout VHS tapes that we would do. Most of the time I did the tapes half heartedly, and during the walks I could be heard howling through the neighbourhood, crying because she was pushing me, literally, to go faster. Bribes were given, for every 10 lbs I lost my parents would buy me $50 worth of new clothing, and back then that would get you a LOT. Nothing worked though, and I continued to eat, and hide my junk food. I remember my dad looking for an eraser or something in my desk one day and coming across my stash of empty junk food wrappers. What a humiliating day that was for me. But it still wasn’t enough to get me to change.
Fast forward to my adult years. I was moving out into my first apartment with a friend as my roommate, and I was so excited! Not for the normal things like being able to have friends over anytime I wanted and the normal run of the mill young adult dreams, but I was excited because for the first time in my life I could eat a piece of cake for supper if I wanted, and no one could tell me no.
My weight continued to creep up. I think I was around 280 lbs at the age of 23 when I met my daughter’s father. During my pregnancy I let myself have whatever I liked, and I skyrocketed to about 335 right before my daughter was born. I stayed around 325 when I met my now husband, but as things go, the relationship got comfortable and I let my weight go up. It didn’t matter because he thought I was beautiful no matter what. I was in love, in a secure relationship, and food was used for everything. Celebrating something? Eat! Stressed out? Eat! Having company over? Eat! Bored? Eat! It was my coping mechanism for everything, good and bad.
I got a wake up call one day though when I went to the doctor for my annual check up. I was told that I was pre diabetic, and my weight was too high to register on his scale. It scared me. I was also at the point where I couldn’t walk the length of the mall without breaking into a sweat and being out of breath. If I had to get from one end to the other, it was easier to get in my car and drive to the other entrance. All of this scared me. So I joined a gym.
I remember that first day at the gym, scared out of my mind about my health, scared out of my mind about having the people in the gym judge me, but resolved to make it work for me. I had a trainer weigh me on the special gym scale… 388 lbs. I cried in her office. I did my first workout that day on the treadmill. I went at a speed of 2.0 km per hour, no incline, and forced myself to stay on it for 20 minutes. Afterward, I remember dry heaving in the parking lot because I had exerted myself so much.
I continued to go to the gym, and had a couple of friends who would join me on the treadmills. Eventually it started to get a little easier, and I could go a little bit faster. I started participating in classes and discovered that they were not only fun, but full of supportive members who became my friends and cheerleaders. I kept getting stronger and loved the challenge that the classes gave me, and was doing two different, hour long classes back to back.
But it wasn’t enough. I hadn’t beaten the diabetes diagnosis. I was, however, keeping it under control strictly through diet and exercise. The insane gym routines took over my life, everything else was planned around my gym time, and in 6 months I had managed to lose 50 lbs. Getting back into the workforce proved to be my undoing.
I had to find myself a part time job to help out with rising expenses at home, so I found one working for a local grocery store. I figured it would be simple enough for me to pick up, and something I would enjoy doing. Turns out I do enjoy it, but it was much harder on the body than I had anticipated it being. After hours of checking people out through the registers my shoulders ached, my back was on fire, my knee was tender, and my left ankle (which had suffered multiple fractures 20 years ago) was screaming and swollen from bearing my weight. Yes I had lost 50 lbs, but I was still 330lbs. The ankle was the worst, throbbing and in so much pain that I would be limping horribly after work. Because of the pain in the joint I was unable to attend gym activities after work, and the weight started to creep up yet again. I had to make a decision, did I want to work and help my family out, or did I want to participate at the gym? My ankle would only let me do one, so I chose work. I tried different wraps, bands, and ankle supports, and even had my doctor send me for an x-ray because I was convinced something was terribly wrong. Had I re fractured the bone? I thought nothing but a break could be this excruciating or cause this much swelling and intense pain. It turns out that arthritis can. Because of my weight, and because of my previous injury my ankle was now full of arthritis, even more so than my doctor would have expected.
So began the daily dose of Tylenol Arthritis medication, backed with a couple of Advil, a nice tight wrap, and off to work I would go. Some days it helped, others it did nothing. I can remember driving home after an 8 hour shift on my feet, and in that 7 minute drive my ankle had swollen so much and got so painful that I had to text my husband from the driveway to please come help me out of the car and into the house. An 8 hour shift left me completely useless the day after, and my day off would be spent on the couch with my leg up, and a bottle of medication next to me. Up and up my weight creeped, more and more the pain increased. I felt trapped. So I started doing my research on bariatric surgery.
I had thought about it before, 10 years ago when a friend of mine had had the Gastric Bypass surgery, but she had some awful complications with it; and I dismissed surgery as not being for me at the time. I learned that surgery had come a long way in the last 10 years, and not only that, but that there were different types available. I started researching on a process called the Gastric Sleeve, and was able to chat online with someone who had had it done. She patiently answered all of my questions, listened to all of my concerns, and told me every nitty gritty detail of her experience with the surgery. It was because of her that I finally asked my doctor to put my name on “the list.” I knew that the list was a long one, and that I would still have time to do all the research I wanted to do, and that if I decided down the road that surgery wasn’t for me I could always remove my name. But I got the ball rolling.
In the meantime, things with my weight were out of control again. I had ballooned up to 377 lbs, and was at the point that I was considering buying a cane to help me get around the house. At age 36 I was considering canes, or possibly even a walker. I was at my rock bottom.
13 months after my referral was sent in I got “the call” that the surgeon’s office was sending me an information package to be reviewed, with a portion of it to be filled out and sent back. This was it! Things had started and after 13 months of research and speaking to more surgery patients I had decided to jump through whatever hoops I needed to and to go for it. This was my last chance, and I needed to take control of my life back. A whirlwind of dietician appointments, blood tests, surgeon appointments, and trial diets passed in the next 5 months, and then I found myself in the hospital wearing that awful gown that leaves your rear end exposed. This was it. Today was the day. I was going to have my sleeve surgery to help me regain control of my life. I was excited and nervous. I padded down the hall behind the nurse to the operating room, and got on the table. They were pleasant and helpful, adjusting my pillows, making sure I was comfortable… but when the IV wouldn’t take for the 5th time, and I felt my arms being strapped down I started to shake and cry. My nerves were kicking in, and I knew that when I woke up my life would never be the same.
I stayed in hospital for 3 days, and off work for 4 weeks while I recovered. It was interesting learning again how to eat, and even more interesting to watch the changes already happening in my body and weight. I celebrated every little milestone and success, but not with food. Things were changing and food just wasn’t the central focus of my life anymore. Life now is so different in that when I am full, I am full, and content to put the fork down. Before I’d have cleaned my plate no matter how I felt. My relationship with food now is completely different. Yes I still enjoy it, I will always enjoy it, but in smaller portions, and with better choices. My new small tummy can only fit so much in at meal time that I have become very picky about what goes into it. There is no room for the junk I used to eat before, so when choosing my food I try to get the most nutrition and protein that I can. Constantly sipping my water all day long to battle dehydration has simply become a part of my life now, as has tracking every single morsel that enters my mouth so I can see how much protein, fat, and carbs I’ve had. It sounds very daunting and like a lot of work, but in the last 9 months of doing it daily, it has just become a part of my daily life now, like brushing my teeth.
9 months. That is how far out I am from surgery now, and in that 9 months I have gone from 377 lbs to 269 lbs. That is a loss of 108 lbs. My clothes have changed drastically as well. When I first started my sleeve journey I was wearing a TIGHT size 28 jeans, and a 3-4X top. Now, being 108 lbs lighter I am wearing a comfortable size 18 jeans, and for shirts I can now wear a size L or XL from most regular stores! Not plus sized stores, regular stores! But the biggest change has been in my mobility. I still wear my ankle wrap to work at the store in the winter when the arthritis acts up in the cold temperatures, but now, after an 8 hour shift I can come home, get out of the car, and come help make dinner. And the next day, I can walk freely and do whatever errands need to be done. I can walk easily from one end of the mall to the other, and I am incorporating the gym back into my life, alongside my work, not having to choose between them anymore.
For me, surgery was the right choice, and one that saved not only my mobility, but my life. My quality of life has improved drastically in such a short time. In discussions with other patients I hear most of the time that their only regret with surgery is not having done it earlier in life. I can understand that feeling, but I am glad that I did it when I did. If I had had my surgery earlier in life I don’t believe I would have been as prepared, or as successful as I have been. I still have a ways to go, and at least 70 more lbs to lose. But for the first time in my life I feel in control, and rather than anticipating what I can put in my mouth next like I used to, now I am anticipating that cute little summer dress that I am going to buy, and look and feel amazing in this year!
Thank you Megan for your honesty and for sharing your story here. You are one of the people I thought of when I was starting this series. I know it can be hard to put it all out there, but it is time that people like us speak out to try to help others. Keep celebrating every little success, and be proud that your decision is certainly the right one for you. I have always admired your spunk. I may not be an obvious cheerleader, but I am very impressed with your success and determination. Keep going, my friend, you are an inspiration!
by Tish MacWebber | Feb 20, 2017 | Weekend Warrior
It’s time for another Zumba story! I enjoy going to Zumba twice a week, with a great group of people. It is a steady group, and there are some of us that are regulars, and some that come once in a while, and there are even people who join the group and become regulars. We call ourselves the Zumba Crew.
When I started, I was a long way from the same level and speed as everyone else. When I start a new song, with new moves, I improvise. I will not use my arms if the moves are new, it can be too much to learn all at once. I didn’t spin on my feet for a long time, I marched instead. Sometimes, when everyone else was doing a fancy move that had them turning, I would smile, or wave, and stay facing forward.
That’s one of the things I like about the class I take. I am encouraged to do what I can, and to not feel like I have to be the same as everyone else. There are options. If I don’t want to move my arms, I don’t. Sometimes they do get tired. It helps to enhance the exercise when I move them, so other times, I do. There are times when I can keep up with everyone, and there are times where I go at half the speed. And there are times where I mess up. When I do, I laugh. Out loud. At myself. Usually for zigging when everyone else is zagging.
I wear a pedometer in class, and I broke 4,000 steps today. I like it when I get more than 5,000 steps in a class, and it has happened before, so I always try to get as many steps in as I can.
You have all heard of playing the “air guitar” to a favourite song. At my Zumba classes, sometimes we play the “air drums.” Today we were shown how to do this properly. If you just flap your hands around from the wrists, it is rather pointless. The way to move correctly is to swing your arms from the elbows right through to the hands. Hard. As hard as you can. I also saw a different method on TV, on the show This is Us. There is an actress on that show that went to what was called a “Fat Camp.” I watched her exercise with actual drum sticks. It wasn’t a Zumba class, they were in an air drumming exercise class. We don’t use sticks at Zumba. We could, but it might get dangerous.
So we drum out the beats. We were told to just pound the drums that weren’t there, like we were making the beat ourselves. I was going for it, when a funny thought struck me. As I was beating the air drums, going side to side, and up and down, I thought I’d better watch out for my cymbals. I am well endowed, and that could hurt too! I shared the thought with someone else, and when she laughed, I knew I would write another Zumba Blog post tonight. So I found myself laughing with a new friend at Zumba. I left with a story to tell, and I was also feeling good after a great class.
by Tish MacWebber | Feb 19, 2017 | Weekend Warrior
I made some resolutions at the start of this year. I am working at them, at my own pace. This week I feel like I am falling behind. We had a lot of snow early last week. I missed two days of work just digging out from under it. My husband, who normally does the shoveling, hurt his back, and is still recovering. So I did it myself. It was a lot of work, and the reason I missed the second day is because I spent more than 4 hours shoveling, and it exhausted me.
So I rested for 2 days, when I wasn’t shoveling. Eat; shovel; sleep; repeat; for 2 days. I didn’t get much done inside the house for those days. We managed. We averted the crisis of having no Pepsi in the house for my husband. It was a close one, though. He doesn’t enjoy coffee, he likes Pepsi. I enjoy coffee, and today, I am home without the car, so I can focus on what needs doing inside the house, and drink a lovely bucket of coffee.
I prep cook on the weekends. It is on my list of things to do. I need to get at the dishes and laundry. I want to finish the kitchen and move on to other rooms, but life happens. Other projects have popped up in the last month, so it was not a productive couple of weeks in my kitchen.
If you are following my blog, you are familiar with the Tish-ism in Bouncing the House. It is what I do. I crank the tunes and clean. This is in my plans for today. But where do I start? There is SO much to DO and only ONE DAY. I am a weekend warrior when it comes to cleaning, and someday, when I am more energetic or have things under control so that I only need a half hour a day in the week for maintenance house cleaning, that won’t be the case. I will be able to manage it this way at some point, and then I will have the time I need to focus on writing and crafts. What I WANT to do.
At the start of the year, I decided on three things as my resolutions. Work on me by living a healthier lifestyle, clean my house, really clean it, top to bottom, and write a book. I will not begin writing in earnest until the house is done. I will never get the cleaning done if I jump into writing and get lost in my creativity. I have a plan, but it takes dedication to stick to it and get it all done. One thing at a time, one project at a time, and one day at a time.
My creative mind travels in circles, and this can be distracting when I am working on something. I start loading the dishwasher, and go through the house to collect dishes. I find empty bottles and cans that also need to be relocated to the kitchen for rinsing and recycling. I fill the sink with really hot water, dish soap, and dishes that don’t go in the dishwasher. I wander into the bedroom and find laundry that needs doing. Get the laundry started. And realize that the dishwasher door is still open, the dishwasher is still not full and running, and the sink now has cold water with bubbles and dirty dishes in it.
So I add more hot water to the sink of dishes, and finish loading the dishwasher and take a break at my desk for a few minutes, only to realize that I lost track of time and the water in the sink, which was too hot when I sat down, is cold again and the dishwasher is finished and needs to be unloaded and the clothes in the washer need to be put into the dryer and a new load put into the washer but there is a load in the dryer that needs to be folded and put away. That was a long and busy sentence on purpose. It is demonstrating how I get in a loop.
Putting things away is a hard thing for me. I get so far with the cleaning and I just leave it for later which essentially is never and the clean clothes get piled up and the dishes are just used straight from the dishwasher so they pile up again as the dirty dishes can’t go into the dishwasher if there are clean dishes in there and you get the idea. I go in circles, constantly, if I let myself, and when I do this, the chances of me finishing anything are slim.
What do I do to fix it? Well, I am stubborn, and that means if I make myself do all the dishes, I can get them done. If I don’t start ten other things at the same time. Some of the chores in my list are the kind you start and have to walk away from, so I try to get them going first. That is also a trap. I need a break, and I lose three hours. I have no concept of time at all.
Turning the music up LOUD helps, as long as I don’t turn it down on a break. I can’t sit at my desk for too long if the music is loud. That is another tactic I use. It works if I don’t just grab the remote and turn the music down so I can spend more time at my desk procrastinating from the things I really should be doing.
Another thing I am going to implement today is a list. I find crossing things off of my list gives me a small sense of accomplishment, it means I finished that thing on my list. I make lists whenever I travel, and go over them several times to be certain that I don’t forget anything, and I cross items off as I pack. I don’t forget things when I have a list made. So I need to make more lists. This can take time and be distracting. I can put too many things down and never get back to the list, because I need to start a new one. Or I can just spend too much time making the list and get nothing else done. Not productive at all.
I think today I will be making more than one list. I also think I need to make lists more frequently until I get things back under control. After all, that is one of the goals here, to get things under control so I can let myself do the things I want to do. I will make two, on a small piece of paper. One for cooking and one for cleaning. If I just use both sides of a small piece of paper, I can flip it over, and not waste paper that way. If the list is small; maybe, just maybe, I can finish everything on it. And that would help to get me going in the right direction again, and help me get back on track. OK. Time to make my little lists and get my day going in the right direction! When I finish them, I have two writing projects that do need my attention. That will be my reward for getting the chores done, I can then work on some other projects that will make me feel good about working on them, not just to finish them, as I may or may not finish them by the end of the day. Getting time to work on them, though, will be a reward I can work toward. Progress is progress, and that is my ultimate goal for today.
by Tish MacWebber | Feb 16, 2017 | Trust Your Gut
Trust Your Gut is a series of stories about real people with weight issues, and complications arising from those issues. It will explain what the person is facing, what their options are, what they have decided to do to take action, and why they chose the path they are on. Each person’s story will be based on truth, so it won’t all be happy, but it will be real. The goal of this series is to get people talking about options that are available for people who have weight issues, on either end of the scale. If you would like to contribute to this series, there is a contact form linked on my Homepage for this blog. I know there are people out there that want to help people like them; as I do.
The names here may or may not reflect the person’s real name. If someone wants to remain unknown, we will choose a different name for that person’s story. The goal is to help people, and anonymity is a valid personal choice for contributors. I will use a person’s name only if they give permission to do so.
Here is Trust Your Gut: Tish’s Story; Part 3.
I love food. I love to eat. Sometimes I eat too much. Other times I eat the wrong things. I don’t allow myself to participate in guilt about eating. I have cravings. I give in to them. I find if I don’t; I go way overboard when I finally cave. I can settle for one of each flavour in a bag of candy. It’s better than having the whole bag.
I don’t always make poor food choices. I don’t always eat until I feel sick from overeating. I don’t always have more than one helping.
I do associate food with feelings. I think chocolate tastes like happiness. Most sweets do to me. Dessert used to make my day. I have started to tackle that problem. I am addicted to sugar, and it is bad for me. Sugar is a diabetic’s kryptonite, only you want it, unlike Superman, he fights to stay away from it. Even Superman needs help with his kryptonite sometimes. It’s not an addiction for Superman, but like me and sugar, it is better to keep far away from it, at all costs.
When I was growing up, there could never be enough Kool-Aid in my water. If it was so thick I had to chew it, that was how I wanted it. Currently, I have actually started reacting to things being too sweet. It was nothing I had experienced before, until recently, in the last two or three years. Age has to be a factor in this. Certainly, my change in eating habits has also contributed to this foreign concept. Not allowing as much sugar in my diet has increased my sensitivity, I think. Similar to the non-smokers reacting to the smell of cigarettes. A scent-free environment really highlights any scent that enters into it, and this might be what is starting to happen to me, with sugar.
I am not on the aspartame train. I have found that I feel better when I cut it out of my life. I am trying other sweeteners, I am using stevia, and erythritol which is also known as Swerve. It comes in granular and powdered forms, and I have started to figure out how to use it in food and drinks. Swerve does leave a cool feeling on the tongue but doesn’t have a nasty aftertaste. I used to drink a lot of pop. Now I can go days without it, and try to only have it as a treat. I didn’t like Zevia, a pop made with stevia, the first, second, or even the third time I tried it. But I kept trying it, and now I enjoy it. It has to be really cold, and then it is good. I haven’t gotten to the stage where I choose water over other beverages yet. I am working on that, too.
The Trim Healthy Mama (THM) plan I follow most of the time has me trying new things a lot. I like every recipe I have tried, and that is a big bonus. I fall short on a night like tonight, when I worked all day, and then came home to what the snowplow left in my driveway. The heavier snow that clumps all together at the end of your driveway, where it meets the road? Yeah, a foot of snow blocking me from parking in my driveway. My husband has hurt himself shovelling earlier in the week. 80 cm of snow (that is 2.62 feet) in one storm was a little too much for us to tackle. The storms of this week are being called Snowmageddon. We went at it together, taking turns with the one shovel, working our way from the step to the shed where the other shovels were. I got the dustpan out to putter with between turns. He pushed himself, and now he is starting to recover, as this was a few days ago. We got a guy with a tractor/snowblower rig to widen the driveway so I could dig the car out and move it. I was not going to be done before spring; otherwise. It stormed again last night, and I was up and at em this morning, and got myself shovelled out and drove myself to work. Then I came home. Ugh. I mean, yay, exercise. I spent an hour and fifteen minutes pushing and pulling the snow out of my driveway. Ten minutes for swearing, and another ten talking myself out of crying in a heap.
My back is not a happy camper, either. But I pushed through…the snow, the anger and the agony of it all…and came in for supper and a beer. I am going to have another drink too. I worked hard moving around a lot of freaking snow this week. My back is not amused, but I have not hurt it. I went to Zumba last night, and upped my activity levels for the week big time, up and over the top of all those snow mountains in my yard. So when I was being asked if I wanted him to make homemade pizza for supper, I told him to make it. Is it on the plan? No. Did I stay on plan by eating everything but the crust? Not a chance. Sometimes you have to make the easier choice because it makes more sense. I was on plan for the rest of the day, so this was not going to ruin everything.
One thing I learned with THM is that you don’t have to wait until Monday to start over. You don’t even have to wait until tomorrow. In 3 hours, you can be back on plan, working on your goals again. I like that. It works for me. When I see that I am not making progress, I know what I did that was not on plan, but I don’t beat myself up over it. I just start again, and every time I do this, I work a little bit harder to stay on plan. Eventually, I will be able to say no to more things that are off plan, and yes to more things that are on plan. Little by little, I am making progress. Someday all of those little things are going to really add up. So I keep working on me, and I let myself be human and take the easy meal sometimes. The important thing is for me to not take it every time.
I am 5’2 3/4″ tall. That snow bank is indeed taller than I am. Let’s hope there is no more snow on the way anytime soon!
by Tish MacWebber | Feb 12, 2017 | His & Hers
We are both home this weekend. He works one in three weekends, and this is his favourite, the three-day weekend. He has been off since Friday. I have every weekend off, and rarely go in for overtime on the weekend unless there is a need for extra cash or to make up for missed time.
I am on a mission this year to clean my house, so I can be guilt free when I settle in to write my book, and work on various craft projects. So I am working on a cleaning challenge, and an organizing challenge. I also have a plan for maintenance cleaning after the main cleaning is done. They say it goes quicker every year, and this is the year I plan to finish it.
I am not a hoarder (except when it comes to craft supplies; I am dreading the necessary purge of them), and I know how to clean. Laziness is my issue. Combine that with a poor sense of time management and a healthy dose of procrastination, and you get the mess my house is in. It is lived in, I can find what I need almost every time I need something, and I do enough to get by. I don’t feel comfortable with guests seeing the disaster zone. So I have taken it upon myself to get this place clean and tidy before I dive into my next creative projects.
I also go in circles, and am finding this is creeping into the cleaning and organizing schedule. Yesterday I just could not bring myself to continue the projects started on Friday after work. I am procrastinating the dreaded craft supply purge, even though I have decided that I will donate the items to the annual Relay For Life Yard Sale in support of my team from work in their fund-raising. I will be joining the team again this year. I am moving my craft supplies into my bedroom, out of the guest room. I have the cutest shelf that I bought for this project. Last weekend we got it assembled. Friday the old mattress was removed from the master bedroom, so we could get the new shelving unit in place. I bought plastic bins for it, and it really is pretty to look at. Now I am over thinking how to organize it. So I have stopped that project.
He went to work on the man cave yesterday. He put his new bookshelf in place Friday night, but needed bolts to complete his project. Yesterday he went out to get what he needed, and today the man cave looks a lot more organized and there is room to move in there. We can even sit on the fold down couch that doubles as a guest bed to watch movies in there if we want to. It hasn’t been cleaned the way I intend to clean in my challenges, but one thing at a time. I do not plan to clean it for him. He will have to do that room himself. I will make sure he knows what needs to be done for spring cleaning in there, and leave it to him.
Yesterday I asked him what he wanted to accomplish this weekend. He was going to putter in the man cave. I was OK with that. This morning, we are taking a bit of time to relax before diving back into the weekend projects. I asked him what his plans were for today. As expected, he wants to rearrange furniture for the new fish tank we bought a couple of weeks ago. The next question was to define my role in his project. I have been drafted to help lift and move furniture around. That is fair. So I am left to figure out what I am going to tackle today, when I am not moving the sofa and chair.
This is the progress in the man cave so far:
The bookcase on the right, and the shelf between the two bookcases that the TV is on are new. We both have a long way to go in finishing our projects, but progress is progress.
Last night I started cleaning and organizing around my desk. I wanted to just watch TV, and needed to feel like I was being productive. So I started. My office is in the living room, and I need to work on purging paper, and cleaning and organizing the desk and office corner. All areas of the house need this, so I am not wrong to find something that I can do from my desk. However, it is not getting the kitchen or the craft supply project finished, either.
This is where my creative mind needs to be put on the back burner for a bit. I NEED to finish in the kitchen. It is the first project in my larger, more in-depth challenge. I am also going to have to delegate some chores for my husband, or I will never get to write my books. He is going to get the list for the living room. He will be exempted from my office area, as I am not going to tackle the man cave. So he will get the responsibility of 3/4 of the living room. He doesn’t mind some chores, so if I pick the ones I don’t feel like I need to be in charge of myself, he is fine with pulling his weight in maintaining the household. Thank goodness! We both work outside of the home, so we need to team up to tackle things around here. Sometimes we growl at each other if we are in each other’s way while working on the same tasks, so we work better alone for some chores. Depending on what it is. I am fine helping move furniture around. He is fine pitching in when I need help. We do work well together, and can count on each other to get things done.
I am going to head back into the kitchen today. I really need to be puttering at it all week. I sent out a message that I may be needing help next weekend, as I grew up with sisters, and I am used to sharing the workload. My husband was an only child, and he is fine going at his own pace on chores by himself. He will be working next weekend. I don’t expect my friends to clean my messy house for me, not at all. An extra pair of hands is appreciated, but even more importantly, someone to chat with while I work, and help keep me from wandering off to procrastinate is what I really need. Sometimes, the music isn’t enough. When I feel like I am OK having a friend over, even if they bring their own craft project to work on while I am cleaning; it helps me stay on track. It also keeps me from starting ten projects at once; as I wander through the house. Yes, I find a way to go in circles, even though I live in a mini home. It is how my brain is wired.
