#literally 20 minutes after i posted this a moderator told them to change it to use she/her

[thoughtsofanexcitedspacechild]

25 more things I learned during a global pandemic from your Local Teenage Train wreck :) (Pt. 2)

1. Gaining weight is okay. Losing weight is okay. Bodies fluctuate and are inconsistent. Just make sure that you’re trying your best to be healthy, whatever that means for you. 

2. School is hard, especially during a global. freaking. pandemic. Don’t beat yourself up if it’s harder to get up in the morning or your grades aren’t as high as they usually are. It’s hard right now. 

3. You’re mental health comes above all. School, responsibilities, and personal projects are not worth your time if it’s affecting your mental health. If your gut is telling you to take a break, take a break!

4. If you feel lonely, get a plant to keep in your room. Do some research as to that plants do best with the type of lighting in your room, and figure out some basic care instructions. Have someone to take care of besides yourself. Name your plants, and take care of them. 

5. Even if you’re not good at writing, I suggest you keep a journal during this time. It kept me sane over the summer, and even though I eventually stopped because of limited time with school starting back up, it helped to keep me sane in the worst of the pandemic. 

6. If you’re spiritual (or even if you’re not) learn how to do shadow work. This isn’t anything that has to be spiritual or done in just one religion. It’s basically giving yourself a chance and a space to be open and honest with yourself and to learn what you might need to work on through writing. If you google it, you can find a more in depth explanation, and prompts to start doing it. You basically give yourself a prompt. They can be questions like “What’s the biggest lie you’ve told someone else or yourself?” or they can be a little less heavy like “What are five non physical things that you genuinely like about yourself?”. This can be pretty heavy, and can dig up some unwanted emotions, but that’s the whole point; to deal with the emotions you may have been repressing and letting fester inside of you. 

7. On days when you’re not feeling well mentally, take a break. It’s okay to drop everything and get an extra hour of sleep, read, or do something else to make yourself feel better.

8. After hard days, I know the last thing you want to do is get up and continue on, but here are some ways to do it:

- lay out an outfit that’s put together, but not as over the top. No sweat pants or crappy clothes, but it doesn’t have to be your usual put together outfits with a full face of makeup. A nice crewneck and a nice pair of black athletic leggings can go a long way. 

-wear your comfort jewelry. I wear my beaded necklace that I bought for myself,  the silver ring my grandma gave me and the gold cross ring that my mom gave to me when I got confirmed. 

-eat breakfast. A handful of cereal will do. Anything. But eat something. I like to make oatmeal. It sounds boring but if you make it right, it tastes just perfect for mornings when you don’t feel hungry but know inside that you are. Recipe is next on the list :)

-go to school. I know you want to lay in bed. I know the last place you want to be is a crowded building full of pubescent teens that aren’t nice, but go. Go to learn. Go to absorb knowledge like a sponge, and don’t worry if you fail and lose some of the water, because you can always soak it up later. 

-if you have practice, rehearsal, a game, whatever, be gentle on yourself. Today might not be your best day physically, because the brain controls everything. Forgive yourself if you can’t land that double pirouette, get to the high note, or make that assist. You’re abilities are stagnant, and they’re going to change depending on how you feel

-When you get home, turn off your phone. Friends, social media, etc. can wait. Set a timer for one hour. Do work for just that hour. When the timer rings, finish what you were doing and then stop. Now have a 20 minute break and do something that’s not screen related. Read a book, draw something; heck, stare at the wall for 20 minutes and space out. When the timer rings, do another hour and repeat the same process until it’s all done. 

-have a playlist you listen to to heal you. Sad boi hours are ok, just make sure to have a playlist of songs that get you moving again. 

-Sleep. Even if that means putting off work for tomorrow. It’s ok. You really need it. 

9. Oatmeal seems gross until you know how to prepare it. When you do, it’s revolutionary. It’s a high volume, low calorie food, so you’ll stay full for a while without overeating, all while consuming less calories than you would with a traditional breakfast cereal. 

The right way to make it: 

-measure out half a cup of old fashioned oats. Not steel cut. Those aren’t as good. 

-MOST IMPORTANT STEP: add half a cup of water and half a cup of milk of your choice. I personally like almond milk because it’s kind of sweet already even when it’s unsweetened. 

-SECOND MOST IMPORTANT STEP: add a pinch of salt, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and allspice, and a teaspoon or two of maple syrup. This is what makes it taste palatable. It’s less sugar than store-bought, and tastes amazing. 

-Microwave that shit for one minute and stir. It should look kind of lumpy, but not a ton. Then, put another minute on. Stir at every half increment. (After 30 seconds, every 15 seconds, and then every 7) This is so it doesn’t boil over. Then, take it out, stir it one last time, and let it sit for a second. 

-Wash up some berries to put in it. I love blueberries and or blackberries. 

perfect oatmeal every. single. time. Feel free to add more toppings like nuts or if you wanna treat yourself chocolate or substitute the spices, but this is honestly one of my favorite breakfasts that keeps me full throughout the day. 

10. Learn a new language. Yes, Duolingo is annoying, but do it. Find one that you’ll like to learn and that’s easy for you. Try them on like old clothes and find one that fits just right. For me, it’s French. Expose yourself to that language. Listen to music, read books (or try to) and watch movies with subtitles. Soon enough, you’ll be eager to learn more. 

11. Learn how to use notion.com. It’s super amazing. You can literally keep track of your entire life there. It’s pretty fun to use as well. I made schedules for each day after school, a reading log, a want to read list, a personal habit tracker, etc, and they’re all extremely helpful. 

12. Make a list of things you weren’t allowed to do as a kid and do one every day. Heal your inner child by finally itching the spot that may not have been scratched for years. 

13. Learn how to make origami stars. They’re really easy, and I can’t recommend Maqaroon’s (Joanna’s) video on how to make them enough. Once you’ve got it down, get yourself a nice big jar and write down things you’re grateful for on the slips of paper you’re going to fold. Fill up your gratitude jar and make a wish once it’s full. It will come true. 

14. Have 30 minutes a day to put your phone down and read. Yes. You will have to sacrifice something to do this, but it’s so important and good for not only information retention and learning, but for mental health as well. Even if you have to get up half an hour earlier to do it, it’s worth it. 

15. It’s okay to be alone, but learn to recognize the difference between alone and lonely. If you’re lonely, here are some things to do:

-write a letter to a friend. It’s something nice you can do for yourself and others, and it’s not feeding into the toxic instant reply culture that we live in

-read a book or watch a show that gets you to connect with the characters, even if that means (I've said it before and I’ll say it again) rereading a favorite ya series or binging atla for the fiftieth time. It’s good for the soul.

-take a walk and smile at the people you see coming past. Again, it’s good for the soul. 

-go to the coffee shop and ask the barista to make you a drink that tastes like “_____” (insert whatever you want there. It could be a color, song, feeling, etc.) It’s weird and uncomfortable, but it gives you a conversation starter and 9.9 times out of 10 a really good drink. (Also helpful for when you think the barrista’s cute)

-Reading in general. It opens up so many new worlds with the turn of a page. 

16. Monitor your food intake. No, don’t restrict your food intake, monitor it. This means first seeing exactly what your putting in your body and altering it to gradually improve to a clean diet. Humans weren’t built to process all the preservatives, additives and sugars found in most processed food (cereals, chips, anything in a foil bag that’s either really sweet or really salty) and it’s important to cut down and if possible eliminate as much as you can of it out of your diet. Food is fuel, and you truly are what you eat. You’ll notice that by increasing your vegetable intake, reducing white processed sugars and carbs*, and cutting out sodas/extra sugars, that you’ll feel better. This isn’t a weight loss thing, but you may start to trim down a little bit once you go more intense with it. You don’t have to eliminate anything fully, and please enjoy your favorite “bad” foods! Everything in moderation is perfect! Just make sure that you’re getting the good stuff in there too! *Side note, do NOT cut out carbs! See my post on how I’m losing weight to get more into depth on this. 

17. Buy fresh flowers for yourself. Who says that you have to wait for someone else? That’s completely false, and you should totally treat yourself to a nice bouquet on occasion, especially in the dead of winter. 

18. The whole idea of self love is flawed. Loving yourself has nothing to do with the way you look. Loving yourself comes with genuinely loving your life. If you don't love the way you’re living, change it. Make and set goals. Fail at achieving those goals. Get back up and try again until you finally get it, but make sure that whatever you’re doing, you’re doing to love the life you live. Life doesn’t live you. You live life.

19. Have candles and incense. (Or a diffuser if you’re not allowed to burn stuff) Making your environment smell good makes a huge difference

20. Once you turn 18, get a tattoo. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Pick something small and get it behind your ear, on your ankle, wrist, fingers, whatever. You’ll love having the memory when your old. 

21. Realize your worth. We often put ourselves down because we think that valuing ourselves is equivalent to selfishness. It’s not. At all. You are just as important as everyone else. Your voice matters too. 

22. Go to art museums

23. Go to free concerts in the park

24. Expose yourself to new art, ideas, and literature

25. Life is gonna suck sometimes. It’s just how it is. That doesn’t mean a bad day’s gonna last forever. As cheesy as it is, keep your head up :)

[another-mentalhealthblog]

It all started out with a waffle.

Yesterday morning, I woke up relatively early. It was a Saturday, and I woke up before 7am. I believe this was largely because I woke up to the smell of waffles.

My dad made waffles on his waffle iron, something he now does on occasion, but something that he always used to do when I was a kid.

And that’s the thing.

As a kid, after I grew out of eating cereal, I would always eat two waffles with butter, syrup and a glass of apple juice as my breakfast in the morning before going off to school.

As a child, I didn’t think anything of this. I didn’t think about the calories, the carbs, the sugars, the fats... how “healthy” or “unhealthy” it was for me to be eating that at the beginning of every day.

It was just my breakfast, and it tasted delicious. And that’s all that mattered to me.

But somewhere along the way, the relationship that I had with food changed.

It started when I was a sophomore in high school.

I got out of my first, long relationship. Two years. And needed something else to fixate on, I guess. So I turned to my body.

I began to look at myself in the mirror and realize I hadn’t been taking care of myself, and I didn’t like the way I looked. In reality, there was nothing wrong with the way I looked.

But I told myself I had too much fat on my stomach area. And I didn’t like the way my thighs touched.

So I started working out more, eating “cleaner” and “healthier,” and overall... less.

This is when I started to look at food as “good” and “bad,” ... “healthy” and “unhealthy.”

Food went from just being food... to having all of these different labels and categories.

I even had a calendar hung up on my wall where I would circle the date in green if I had a “good” day where I worked out and ate “clean” and “healthy” all day... in yellow if I felt like I slipped up and could’ve done better... or in red if I didn’t work out and didn’t eat within my clean and healthy standards.

All of these things were aimed around one, singular goal, of changing the way my body looked on the outside, so I would feel more confident about myself.

Little did I remember, that there is so much more to being confident than how you look on the outside.

A whopping seven years ago, I also created my first health and fitness blog on Tumblr, called Believe and Achieve. Where I would reblog transformation photos, photos of girls with flat, toned, tanned stomachs, almonds, fruits, vegetables... everything related to weight loss and shrinking yourself smaller.

On February 27, 2013, I wrote a text post, entitled, “Goals.”

My goals were to exercise every day and keep eating healthy meals and snacks. To not let an unmotivated attitude take over me again and make me lose progress. Keep eating healthy and keep exercising. To make money from babysitting to consider paying for a plan to go to the gym more. To go to the gym minimum of twice a week. To not skip more than a day a week and don’t indulge when it’s “really not necessary.”

I said, “It takes three months. By the end of May and the beginning of summer I will be so happy I started now and not then. I have to get there but I have to start now."

I can go on and on and on about the things I used to write on this Tumblr. I used to be so, terribly hard on myself when it came to eating and exercising. Let us just visit two more, shall we?

Another post I wrote was... “A healthy lifestyle sucks somedays, and today is one of them. I hate how i have this huge weight of guilt on my shoulders after eating three moderately poor meals today and not having time to workout this week. I feel like such a failure. i hate feeling so damn bad for eating things that i wouldn’t have considered “unhealthy” this time last year. it’s good that my eyes are opened and I can tell the difference between healthy and unhealthy, but this guilt thing for eating things that I consider unhealthy now and not working out even though I really didn’t have any time is the worst.”

And another post I wrote was... “someone please help. I NEED to know how to not binge :( i literally can’t have sleepovers or go to parties or vacation without over eating crap food and i know that’s not awful to do every once in a while but i feel like this month i’ve been doing it way more than every once in a while, so it’s not “okay” anymore. and all it does is make me feel bad about myself: while im doing it, all night after i do it, and especially the next day, but i keep doing it. and if i binge really bad then i honestly loose my appetite and don’t want to eat the whole next day even though i know my body needs nutrients. i know im wrong, but i feel like all of this binging has wiped away all of my hard work that i started in the spring because honestly my stomach has definitely gotten bigger and i’ve lost sight of the muscle i was building. if anyone took the time to read this please send me an ask with some advice, i need it.”

And one last post: I constantly caught between wanting to eat 100% clean and healthy so that I see more results, and wanting to enjoy life and being a teenager. I know that sounds silly because if I just dedicate myself to eating clean (or at least cleaner than i do now) for a few weeks, I’ll grow into it and it’ll become a habit and i can still “enjoy life” and “be a teenager.” I also know I can make unhealthy choices in moderation here and there too. but I feel like my unhealthy choices (ex, this past week: pizza saturday night, a barbeque dinner and birthday cake sunday night, pizza tuesday night, suki hana yesterday afternoon..) are putting me in a stand still where I exercise enough, but only eat like 50-60% clean.. so its not that im not seeing any results, just enough to satisfy me. because I’m not fully dedicated, because I want to be able to eat what I want and again, enjoy being a teenager. it’s tough.

So I think we understand how poor my relationship with food was seven years ago.

And what has happened since then?

It’s been a roller coaster of ups and downs that would honestly take hours for me to get into.

But I want to fast forward into the present, and talk about my day and night last night, just to show you that change is possible.

So yesterday, I woke up to the smell of waffles. And I will honestly admit that I am still healing my relationship with food, after seven years, because of the internal dialogue that goes on in my head when I smell a food like waffles in the morning.

While this internal dialogue used to be so loud and control the decisions I was making when it came to food, it now a more of a whisper that I can tell to shut the hell up.

It goes a little something like this.

I smell the waffles. I think, “Should I go for it? Or should I eat something healthier - like oatmeal? Or eggs and toast?”

In the past, I would have eaten something “cleaner” or “healthier” to stay “on track” with my goals. Or I would have eaten the waffles and mentally ripped myself to shreds for eating something “unhealthy” and “getting off track.”

But yesterday, I realized how much I have made and am making true growth and progress when it comes to my relationship with food.

Because I reached for not one, but two waffles, without any guilt. I put butter and syrup on them. Even paired them with a cup of coffee with two spoonfuls of dairy free vanilla creamer.

I ate the waffles. Enjoyed every bite. And realized how much growth and progress I have made over the years.

Another thing about yesterday and these waffles was that I knew my family was ordering dinner from The Cheesecake Factory that night.

Normally around this time of year, my family and I spend a day in Philadelphia doing Christmas things and going out to lunch or dinner. Since we couldn’t do that this year because of COVID, we decided to bring the tradition into the safety of our home.

So instead of going out to lunch or dinner, we ordered dinner in from the Cheesecake Factory.

Another proud moment of growth for me.

Because in the past, I would’ve ordered something low calorie, no carb, clean, healthy, etc. Especially when there is a low calorie “skinnylicious” section on the menu.

But the current version of myself wanted a burger. So I ordered a classic burger, with the bun, and french fries. And thought nothing of it, except how much I have grown in my relationship with food, and how excited I was to eat it.

In the past... knowing I had appetizers, a big, fat, burger, and a piece of Linda’s chocolate fudge cake coming for me that night, I would have deprived myself of food during the day, or made sure I ate 110% clean, healthy, low carb and low calorie leading up to the big Christmas she-bang of food at night.

But yesterday... I started the day with waffles. Exercised for my mental health, in a way that felt good to me in the moment. A mix of a 20 minute leg workout, 10 minutes of cycling, 15 minutes of stretching and 5 minutes of meditation.

Had a protein shake after exercising. And did not alter my eating during the day because of what I was going to be eating that night.

Honestly, I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know how I went from being a person who would hate herself if she didn’t eat clean and healthy and workout for 7 days straight. To a person who exercises in such a healthy way, for her mental health, and doesn’t diet or feel guilt around food at all anymore.

Truthfully... I know two of the biggest things that got me here were changing the kinds of people I follow on social media. And allowing myself to break up with the scale, and my old beliefs and habits.

Because we’re humans. We’re meant to grow, change and evolve. You are supposed to and don’t have to always stay the same.

And I am proud to say that I am living, breathing proof that you can go from food guilt and restriction, to complete food freedom.

Eat the waffles. Eat the burger. Eat the fudge cake. Enjoy your freaking LIFE. And then, the next morning, you wake up and move on with your life.

This morning, I went back to my regular routine of coffee and oatmeal. Soon, I’ll have another meal or a snack, maybe exercise for 20-30 minutes, and, again... just continue on with my life.

Your life doesn’t have to revolve around weight loss, achieving a flat stomach, having abs, and always eating “clean” and “healthy” all of the time.

You are allowed to live your freaking life, eat your favorite foods, and do whatever brings you peace, happiness and joy. Especially during the holiday season.

[exxar1]

Episode 2: The Unexamined Life (or Everything’s Fine Until It Isn’t) Part 1

10/11/2020

The last couple weeks since my first entry in this journey log have been fairly quiet for me. There’s all the usual shit going on in the outside world, and we’re now 23 days to the national election. But I’m not here to talk about that. This blog is about me and my journey, and this past week has contained a lot more self-reflection and ruminating. And since this is an election year, I decided to stage this log entry as a debate between me and myself and moderated by I. The main reason for that is because this is exactly what I’ve been doing for the past week, and I’ve come to realize two things:

1.     Spending too much time alone with one’s thoughts can lead to a LOT of self-psychoanalysis.

2.    That’s not necessarily a good thing.

Wednesday of this past week was particularly bad for me. I hadn’t had much sleep the night before (I usually average about 4 ½ hours per night, thanks to the two full time jobs), and I was feeling rather grouchy and annoyed as well as exhausted when I showed up for work at Walmart that morning. As I took up my usual post at the main entrance, steeling myself for another long, boring day of talking to myself, I started thinking about this blog and what my next entry would be. But then I also started asking myself why I was feeling so annoyed and grumpy. Here’s how the conversation went:

Picture this: a small, cozy study somewhere with lots of bookshelves filled with all kinds of paperbacks and tomes. A large picture window allows the afternoon sun to shine in and gives us a view of a downtown office park in Anywhere, USA. There’s a desk in one corner, near the window, and, in the middle of the room, is a large, high-backed armchair opposite a long, comfy sofa. I’m at one end of the sofa, and seated at the other end is also me. And I’m also seated in the armchair, pen in one hand, notepad in the other. Now, for the sake of visual and organizational clarity, let’s imagine that the “me” seated in the armchair is Patrick Stewart. (I’ve always admired Captain Picard from “Star Trek: The Next Generation. And yes, Patrick is in his Starfleet uniform from the “TNG” era.)

Seated at the far end of the sofa, opposite me, is Chris Evans. (Because, why not? And no, he’s not in his Captain America uniform. I’m picturing jeans and a plain t-shirt. He’s also a little scruffy since he hasn’t shaved in a couple days.)

And me, I’m in my Walmart shirt and jeans, feeling a little miffed and uncomfortable.

          PATRICK: Good morning, everyone. Neal, Chris started this meeting by asking you why you’re feeling so grumpy. Let’s start with that.

          ME: Well, for starters, I didn’t sleep very well last night, and I really don’t want to be at work.

          PATRICK: Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. Well, of course, I can understand that. But we all know there’s more going on with you lately than just that. What else is causing your mood today?

I glance at Chris. He just gives me a look that says, This is your session, dude. I’m just along for the ride.

           ME: Well, Patrick, yes I have been doing a lot of thinking lately. (Slight pause.) I just realized it’s been two weeks since I texted with Alfred.

“Alfred” is the name of a guy I met on Tinder back in early June, two days after my birthday, in fact. That’s not his real name, of course, but I’m a fan of Batman, and Alfred seems like a good pseudonym for this guy.

           PATRICK: Ah, yes! You’re right, it has been awhile. Hasn’t he been back from his Florida trip for about ten days now?

           ME: Yeah. At least, I’m pretty sure. He said it was only for that weekend. I kinda wanted to wait this time and see if he would be the one to text me first.

           CHRIS: Dude, face facts. He’s just not that into you. You know it, you just don’t want to admit it.

I shoot him a scathing look, and he just shrugs.

           PATRICK: Now, Chris, let’s not try to be so blunt, shall we? We need to be considerate of everyone’s feelings here. Neal, do you think that this is true? You told Alfred a couple months ago that you were really into him and that you wanted to go on a second date.

           ME: Yeah, I did. And he said he wanted to do on one too. But he also said – in not so many direct words, of course – that he was just too busy with work right now. He literally works seven days a week. Said he’s trying to catch up on his finances from the economic shutdown earlier this year. I suggested we go get a late lunch or early dinner after he’s off one of his early morning shifts. He said he doesn’t like to go out after work. Once he’s home, he’s too tired to do anything else.

           CHRIS: And all you’ve done ever since is just text “Good morning, how’s your day, and goodnight.” You haven’t had a real conversation about anything since that one two months ago.

           ME: Yeah, pretty much.

           CHRIS: And now it’s been two weeks since you heard from him at all.

           ME: (looking out the window, scowling) Yeah.

           CHRIS: He’s not that into you.

I continue looking out the window. He’s right, dammit. This makes me even more grouchy and irritated. I can feel the other two waiting patiently as I stew in silence. In the outside world, I greet a few more customers as they walk in the door.

           ME: (giving a resigned sigh) It’s probably just as well. I doubt he and I had that much in common to begin with. And there’s been so much that’s happened with me in these last 3 months that he probably wouldn’t understand.

           CHRIS: So why does that bother you so much? You’ve never cared about having a boyfriend or being in a long term relationship. You’ve always been perfectly happy on your own.

I have no answer. He’s right again, dammit! Patrick just looks at me, his expression calm and patient, and I look out the window again. Why does this bother me so much now? I couldn’t even tell you why I created that stupid account on Tinder in the first place. I suppose I was bored, as I had a lot of time on my hands with not much to do. And everyone keeps talking about that app, how it’s great for hookups and general dating. And, at first, I didn’t make any connections with guys that appeared to be worth talking to. All of them were either in a relationship and looking for a threesome, or they just wanted to hook up, or they didn’t have any hobbies or interests that were even remotely similar to mine, or they weren’t even in my geographical area. (I could never figure out why Tinder kept showing me guys from Spain or Europe or Mexico when I had specifically adjusted my location settings in my profile to show me only guys from a 20 mile radius around my zip code.)

But then, a mere two days after creating that profile, Alfred matched with me. He swiped right on my profile first. (He made the first move, in other words.) Once Tinder notified me I checked out his profile. Age: 49. His pics and his description of likes and interests seemed pretty decent, so I swiped right as well. After we matched, I sent him a greeting, and – unlike ALL the other guys with whom I had matched in those two days (which wasn’t many) – Alfred actually responded to my message. We hit it off right away. We spent an hour chatting. We exchanged phone numbers and began texting regularly the very next morning.

We met for a first date a couple weeks later. I was super nervous, and, because there were only a few restaurants back in early June that had just reopened their dining rooms, we chose Farmer Boys for brunch at ten. I, of course, arrived about fifteen minutes early (that type ‘A’ personality trait, remember?), and Alfred arrived on time. There was the usual initial awkwardness and stilted small talk. But after we ordered, and after we both overcame our nervousness, we hit it off pretty well. There was no awkward lags or uncomfortable silences. He seemed really nice and outgoing, and neither of us hogged the whole conversation. We filled each other in on our respective bios, he told me about his job and I told him all about mine. We talked about Black Lives Matter and some of the other political stuff going on in the news at the time. I was still a democrat at that time, so we both seemed to have similar political views. Alfred hated Trump – and still does, as far as I know – and I told him that I didn’t really follow politics. I wasn’t even planning to vote. (You all know, of course, how radically that all has changed for me since then.)

Put simply, that first date went super well! It lasted almost two and a half hours, and we both agreed to continue texting and that we should do a second date soon. I left the restaurant feeling damn near giddy. Maybe 2020 wasn’t going to be such a shit year after all.

And we did continue texting. We had some really good conversations in the ensuing weeks. One of them was a rather heated debate about Black Lives Matter and the call for de-funding the police. Alfred was all for it, and I tried to convince him of the error of his views. We stayed civil with one another, and the fact that we could agree to disagree and move on was another encouraging sign. We greeted each other via text every morning, and signed off the same way every night. Throughout the day we would chat here and there, mostly during our respective break times at work, and the more I chatted with him, the more I started to fall in love.

But, as this was my first attempt at actual dating, I couldn’t be sure if he felt the same way about me. He seemed genuinely interested, but we had never had a face to face conversation since our first date. And since Alfred preferred texting to actual phone calls – which I was also fine with – I couldn’t get a very good read on him. Just the fact that he was always responding to my texts was a good sign, but our conversations were getting shorter and shorter. By mid-August we were reduced to – as Chris just now so eloquently put it – saying little more to each other than “Good morning, how’s your day, goodnight.”

So I decided to just go for it and put myself out there. I texted Alfred one afternoon as he was leaving work. I told him that I was really into him, that I had been thoroughly enjoying our conversations, and that the more we talked, the more I was falling for him. I waited anxiously after sending the text, one finger tapping nervously on the side of my phone. The symbol with the three dots in a shaded oval appeared on my screen and seemed to stay there for an eternity. When his response finally came through, I grinned with immense relief. He felt the same way! We chatted for a bit longer, and then I had to go to work.

But the end of August arrived with still no ETA on a second date. Alfred and I continued texting, but, once again, neither of us said much more than “Good morning, how’s your day, goodnight.” We were both working super long hours. I had been with Walmart for almost 2 months by now and had barely enough time between jobs to eat and sleep. But, even with my crazy hectic schedule, I still had an occasional evening during the week free. I brought up the subject of a second date a couple times with Alfred, but his responses were vague and non-committal. I even asked him once point blank if he still wanted to get together sometime, and he assured me he did. His work schedule was just super hectic at the time. I backed off, not wanting to create a fight, but my frustration rose another notch. I decided to give him until the end of September. If he couldn’t commit to a second date by then, we would need to have a heart to heart.

Then, in the third week of September, Alfred informed me he was going to Florida for a few days to help an old friend after her surgery. He was leaving Wednesday the 23rd and he would be back either Saturday or Sunday. I wished him safe travels and told him to get some rest since he’d been working like crazy for the last couple months. He thanked me and then we said our usual goodnights.

That was 2 ½ weeks ago, and I haven’t heard from him since.

           CHRIS: Just text him.

           ME: I don’t want to. I want to see if he’s still interested. I want him to be the first to text this time.

           CHRIS: Ok fine.

All three of us sit in silence. I purposely avoid their gazes.

           ME: Ok fine, I’ll text him.

Out in the real world I pull my phone from my front pocket and shoot off a quick greeting to Alfred: a simple “Good morning. (Smiley face emoji) How’s it going?”

           ME: There. Now we wait.

           CHRIS: What are you going to do if he doesn’t respond?

           ME: (exasperated sigh) I don’t know! I guess you’re right. He’s just not that into me.

           PATRICK: And that understandably upsets you.

           ME: Yes, it does. And Chris is right. I don’t know why this bothers me so much now.

           CHRIS: I know why.

           ME: Of course you do.

           CHRIS: It’s simple. You’re lonely. And not just regular lonely. You’re tragically, desperately, sadly lonely. You have been for years. That’s why you finally created the Tinder profile, that’s why you fell so hard when you met Alfred, and that’s why you’re so upset and grouchy today. You’re lonely, and it hurts.

I glare at him, furious. But then I have to look away because, suddenly, I feel like crying. And, out in the real world, I have to blink a lot to force back the tears. I smile and greet some more customers.

           CHRIS: Sorry to be so blunt, but it’s obvious.

           ME: All right, fine. So I’m lonely. Since you have all the answers, tell me why that bothers me so much just now. It’s never been an issue before. So what’s changed? Why now?

           CHRIS: (shrugs) Actually, I don’t know. That’s a good question.

We both look at Patrick. He glances at each of us in turn, also puzzled.

           PATRICK: That is a good question. Maybe we should explore why you chose a long time ago to not be interested in romantic relationships.

           ME: (shrugs) I don’t know. I just…. I was never interested in having one. I was perfectly happy on my own, and I never saw the point of having a boyfriend. I was happier with the occasional hookup or the friends with benefits I had in college.

           PATRICK: Mm-hmmm. You made a conscious choice when you were young to be alone, but now, at 42, you’re having a hard time living with that choice.

           ME: (frowning) Well, yes, I suppose that’s one way of putting it.

           CHRIS: I think I know why you made that choice.

           ME: (rolling my eyes) Oh really? You just said a second ago you didn’t know.

           CHRIS: I had to think about it for a minute. You were bullied and picked on when you were a kid. You never really fit in with the other boys. You were always happier playing dress up with the girls, or sitting under a tree at recess reading a book. We’ve talked about this before, remember?

I do remember. And, as usual, he brings up a valid point. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about those years in elementary school. I wasn’t a normal boy. I had no interest in sports. I did enjoy the occasional game of cops and robbers or tag, but most of the time I could be found under a tree with a book in hand or playing dolls with the girls in one corner of the playground. There was a few times when I would go to another girl’s house for a play date and I loved putting on dresses and jewelry and pretending to be the wife. This, of course, drew lots of ridicule and shaming from my male classmates at recess. I didn’t care, though – or, at least, I pretended not to.

However, in retrospect, I’m starting to see how that ridicule and being made fun of has affected me in different ways over the course of my life. In elementary school, I wasn’t a model student. I would act out in class and get sent to the principal’s office quite a lot. I had to repeat the first grade because I didn’t do so hot the first time around. (My parents attributed this to starting kindergarten too early.) It also didn’t help that I was smarter than most of my classmates. I’m not saying that to brag. It’s a simple fact. I caught on to general concepts and lessons a bit quicker than everyone else, and I was also an excellent reader. The school library was my second home, and I was always complaining to my teachers and parents that I could check out only two books at a time. By the time I was in 3rd grade I was joining the 4th grade class a couple times a week for math or reading lessons. And it was also about this time that I started expressing more interest in the girly things like dress-up and playing with My Little Pony horses. I even had a pony of my own – white body with a glittery, purple mane. It came with a pink brush and a barrette. (Damn, I miss those wonderful toys of the 80s!)

In later years, I’ve come to realize that all the bullying and ridicule in elementary school caused me to lash out in other ways – usually in class, but mostly at home. I was always fighting with my three brothers and my parents, and this got worse as I got older. By the time puberty hit – which, of course, was about a year earlier than my male classmates – I was used to being made fun of by the other kids at my school. I was also used to coping with this by retreating to my room at home after school to read or play with my “Star Trek” toys. Or I would pick a fight with my brothers who also loved to tease and make fun of me.

And then, as I entered junior high, I started to realize that there was something fundamentally different about me. All my classmates had begun expressing interest in the opposite sex, but I felt nothing when I was around the girls. (By this point, obviously, I was no longer playing dress-up with my female friends or going to their houses for play dates. My parents and I had agreed this was not a good idea, though I wasn’t entirely sure why at the time.) Around my male classmates, however, I was feeling something different. A couple of them I found attractive, in fact, but instinct told me I should never say that aloud or even outwardly hint at that attraction in any way.

I was also socially awkward in the worst possible way. It was probably because of all the torment in elementary school, but I had also always been a natural introvert. I was never the life of the party. And, because I was attending a private school, the same classmates who had made fun of me in 3rd grade for playing with dolls with the girls at recess instead of soccer with the boys were now my friends in 7th grade who were starting to pass notes to one another during class. I’m sure there was one or two girls that I exchanged notes with at some point, but I only did it to fit in with the boys. I had no interest whatsoever in whether or not the girls actually responded.

And, as if the first glimmer of homosexuality combined with super awkward, underdeveloped social skills wasn’t enough, I was also turning into a bone fide nerd in 7th and 8th grades. I was 9 years old when “Star Trek: The Next Generation” premiered in 1987, and I would watch it with my mom every week. I fell in love with that show from the start, and I was a geek long before it was cool. Nowadays, everyone is proud to be a sci-fi nerd, as the box office success of the Marvel Cinematic Universe can readily prove. But back in the early 90s, as I suffered through junior high, being a “Star Trek” fan was just one more thing to be made fun of by my classmates.

So, as a result of all of this, I started to create a mask for myself. I would put on a good face every morning, go to school and pretend everything was fine while enduring constant teasing and “good natured” ribbing from my classmates about all sorts of things, and then go home at night and fight with my brothers or parents about any number of things. (My brothers loved to make fun of my nerdiness as well.) Sometimes I would wear the mask at home and pretend everything was fine with my family, but in the solitude of my room, with the door closed, I would take it off and pretend that I was a Starfleet officer on the bridge of the starship “Enterprise”. No one on that crew made of one another. Everyone worked together in harmony, and they all celebrated their differences. In fact, being different was a strength, not a weakness. I so desperately wanted to live in that world that that TV show became an almost unhealthy obsession throughout the rest of my teen years.

In 9th grade I finally realized what was fundamentally different with me. I was gay. It was now the early 90s, and we had cable TV in our house. My brothers and I would sneak behind our parents’ backs to watch some of the prime time comedies that we’d been told we weren’t supposed to watch. The gay social movement exploded in mainstream America in the 90s, though it had been building momentum for quite some time before then. As with all things relating to nerds or geeks, it was not cool to be gay in the early 90s, especially if you were a teenager. Adults who dared to be out and proud faced discrimination at work and alienation from family and friends. Soldiers and officers in the American military were courts-martialed and stripped of rank for coming out of the closet. The surest way to end the career of any Hollywood celebrity was to accuse them in the tabloids of being gay.

In today’s public schools, it’s considered weird or strange if you’re NOT gay, or at least bi. Back then, I longed for someone I could talk to about this, but because I was attending a private school run by a Baptist church in a red state in a town with a population of less than 40,000, I had no support group whatsoever. There was no school counselor with a pamphlet on the local PFLAG group. There was no student club with other gay students that I could hang out with after school. There was no internet chat room where I could talk to an understanding stranger about my feelings and struggles. Fuck, there wasn’t even the internet back then. My only resource for exploring my sexuality was the public library across town, but back then there was precious little literature on the subject of being gay. And, even if by some miracle I was able to find such a book, I would have to sneak it home and hide it from my parents.

All I knew about homosexuality was preached at me from the pulpit at church on Sundays and Wednesday night youth group meetings. Not that the subject came up that often, and when it did, it was always in the context of Sodom and Gomorrah. For example, “Look at what God did to the Sodomites who were practicing idol worship and homosexuality.” Or, “It’s unnatural for two people of the same sex to be together. God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.” (To my knowledge, that last quote was never specifically said aloud by any of my pastors or teachers, but the gist of it was stated in some form or another in a sermon here and there.) I also have an odd memory from early childhood of my father bringing up this subject during one of his nightly devotions with me and my brothers. I couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11, and I distinctly remember sitting beside my brother Jeremy, who was probably 8 or 9, and dad was reading us a Bible story. (It was probably just us older two boys. The twins would have been about 5 at this time.) I don’t remember what the story was, but I do distinctly remember Jeremy asking my dad, “What’s homosexuality?” This was my dad’s response: “It’s when men have sex with other men. It’s disgusting! It makes me want to puke!”

It’s strange how specific words or pieces of a scene can stick in your memory for so many years. I carried that vehement statement with me in the back of my mind for many years afterwards, well into junior high or high school. It’s how I knew I could never, ever tell my parents about what I was struggling with, and I got to the point where I wore my mask very well. I bided my time until high school graduation, and I almost made it to the finish line without any hiccups.

Almost.

My senior year was 1996-97. One of the requirements for me and my 9 classmates – the same group of kids who had tormented me relentlessly in elementary school, but with whom I was now close friends – was a Bible class called “Understanding The Times”. It was designed to equip young Christians with the necessary religious reasoning and skills to guard and defend their faith as they entered a Godless and corrupt world. An example of the topics in this class: abortion, homosexuality, rock music, pop culture & politics. My friends and I loathed this class. We made fun of these topics and assignments – as well as the teacher – outside the classroom. (The teacher was Mr. Ward – a true nerd in every way, especially in appearance. He was tall, pencil thin, with large glasses, a thick moustache, and a long nose. I still cringe when I think about the crush I had on him in my junior high years.) Being typical teenagers, we had already done our share of rebellious activities, i.e. the occasional weekend party where alcohol had made an appearance. (Actually, I should say “they” had done those activities. I was never part of the “in” crowd in high school, despite the microscopic size of my class, so I was never cool enough to be part of anything rebellious.)

By this point in my life I had become quite comfortable with being gay. I believed quite firmly and without a doubt that I had been born this way. I couldn’t really tell you for sure why, but I knew that. I knew it in my bones. And I was fine with it. I was, however, not anywhere close to being fine with all the religious bullshit that had been shoved down my throat for the last 17 years of my life. My brothers and I were born and raised in the church. My father insisted on all of us being present ANY time those damn doors were open for service. And I do mean, ANYTIME. Sunday morning, Sunday evening, Wednesday evening youth group, and especially anytime there was a special week-long revival event. That was when a visiting pastor or an evangelist would be passing through town and a good, old fashioned church service would be held every weeknight. I grew to loathe these special services, as they would often happen in the summer, and I could think of a thousand things I would rather be doing on a warm, breezy July evening than forced to sit in church and listen to some guy rant and rave about the sins of the world.

So, in the spring of ’97, as our graduation date neared, and as my friends and I endured this terrible Bible class where our teacher lectured us on the evils of premarital sex and rock music, I had finally decided that I had had enough. One of our assignments towards the end of March, about six weeks from graduation, was to write a paper on a topic that I can’t even remember now. What I do remember very clearly, however, was that I stated in this paper, in no uncertain terms, was that I was an Atheist. I did not believe in God, in Heaven or Hell, or pretty much anything in the Bible. I proudly handed that paper to my teacher on the day it was due and walked out of class feeling a bit giddy and anxious. I really didn’t think anything other than a failing grade was going to come of this.

One thing about teenagers: we really don’t think through the consequences of our actions.

I was called into the principal’s office two days later. Mr. Grayson was seated behind his desk and my dad was seated in front of the desk. My mind immediately began racing through the past couple weeks, trying to remember if there was something my friends and I had done that violated church rules. I had already forgotten about that stupid Bible class assignment. But when I sat down, and when Mr. Grayson read aloud what I had written in that paper, I started to think that maybe – just maybe – I had crossed a line. This is another memory where I have a clear record of the actual dialogue:

           MR. GRAYSON: Neal, I’m going to ask you think once, and you need to think carefully about your answer. (Pause) Do you really, truly believe what you wrote here? Or was this just another way to get back at Mr. Ward?

I did think…for about 2.5 seconds.

           ME: Yes, I believe it. A hundred percent. There’s no God, no afterlife, and I’m an Atheist.

           MR. GRAYSON: (giving me a serious, measured look) I’m sorry to hear that, Neal. I’m afraid we can’t accept you here as a student any longer. If this was just some kind of acting out, or if you were just being argumentative, that would be one thing. But if you actually believe this, then there’s no place for you here. We’re going to have to expel you immediately.

He turned to my dad and they started talking, but I don’t remember what that was. All I could think was,

HELL-FUCKING-YEAH!!!!!!

I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. I practically floated out of that office, and I was grinning ear to ear all the way home. I even almost ran a red light because I wasn’t paying attention. All I could think was that I was finally free! No more preaching, no more lecturing, no more stupid Bible class! I was free of all of it!!!

Only later that afternoon, as I reflected on what I had done, did the full weight finally come crashing down on me. I wasn’t going to walk the aisle at my own graduation. Oh shit. Goddammit!

Goddammit!!

But, what was done was done. Yes, there was major fallout in all corners of my life – and my family’s lives – from my little act of rebellion. I eventually came to terms with what I had done, and, in all honesty, I have accomplished so much more in my life since then that has meant far more to me than getting expelled six weeks before high school graduation. Graduating Boise State University with a Bachelor’s in English, for one. And, ever since that declaration, I have been a proud and determined Atheist. I walked away from the church, the religion, the Bible – all of it. I wanted nothing more to do with God or any of his followers, and, until 2020, I’d been very happy with that choice.

And now…back to my little session with Patrick Stewart and Chris Evans.

           ME: (still looking out the window, talking mainly to myself) It wasn’t just because of the religion or being gay. It was all of it. I’ve been ridiculed, bullied, and made fun of ever since 2nd grade. I’ve always been different in many ways. I’ve never, ever felt as if I belonged somewhere, especially as a teenager. There was nowhere to be my complete, truest self. Not even at home. I’ve always been the outsider, the outcast, the one looking at the “in” crowd and longing desperately, with all of my being, to fit in somewhere. Longing to be normal. But I’ve never been normal.

I turn to Chris.

           ME: You were right. I’ve been lonely my entire life. Desperately, sadly, tragically lonely. I learned early on to build a wall around myself to protect me from the bullying and the cruelty of the other kids. And then, in junior high and high school, I fortified that wall, made it thicker and stronger. It was the only way to survive. And then, somewhere along the way, I became so comfortable with it that I didn’t realize it was even there. But it’s always been there, and I’ve kept everyone in my life at arm’s length. I never let them get inside the wall. Not even my family is allowed inside.

It was at this point that I became truly choked up and damn near broke down in the lobby of Walmart. I don’t know why it took 23 years to arrive at such an obvious revelation, but there it was. Even as I write this I’m having to pause and blink back the tears. I hate feeling this way. I hate that I now have to live with a vow that my younger self blindly, stupidly made. Almost everyone I know – including my brothers – is happily married with kids or, at the very least, in a relationship with someone special. I am alone. I have spent my whole life marching to the beat of my own crazy, wacked out drummer that I never bothered to check just exactly where it was I was marching to; or, for that matter, if I was even staying on the damn football field. And, as I said already, I have accomplished so much in my life since walking away from those troubled, angst-filled teen years that being single was never a big deal. I used to be thoroughly, genuinely happy by myself. I’ve never needed that whole, clichéd, stupid rom-com story: boy meets boy in meet cute, lots of misunderstandings and contrived plot points ensue, boy and boy end up happily ever after. Romantic relationships are ridiculous and unnecessary in order to live a happy, fulfilled life. I believed that then, and I still believe it now.

CHRIS: Uh-huh. So why does the fact that Alfred still hasn’t responded to the text you sent an hour ago bother you so deeply?

I’ve returned my gaze to the window, but Chris’ statement causes me to turn. I glare at him with such rage that he actually recoils.

           CHRIS: Uh, never mind. Forget I asked.

           ME: Fuck you.

I get up and leave the room.

My shift at Walmart is over. I’m headed home for a much needed nap and then some play time with my Nintendo Switch. I’ve had enough self-induced psychoanalysis for one day.

 TO BE CONTINUED…

[microbiomemuncher-blog]

I’m tired and I’m frustrated

The title says it all. To start it all off, I wanted to make my first post a backstory for everyone.

Disclaimer: this might be too graphic for some of you.

Where it all started: When I was at my previous job, I didn’t realize it, but I had a lot of issues. I had 3 bouts of “food poisoning”. I call it that because one instance I woke up in the middle of the night and I had projectile vomit, shortly following diarrhea. Thank God I was wearing a pad LOL! This lasted for about 20 minutes. The other two instances was I was in a coworker’s car and after I got out of the car, I vomited once and then took pepto bismal. Another time I was in the train and I felt so nauseous, I got off and missed my stop and vomited once and felt terrible the whole day. About three months ago, I had to leave my current work because I felt so sick. Strong nausea, stomach pain and no vomiting (thank God).

When I took PPI’s: this was back in late December early January. I had this gradual gnawing pain in my stomach. I felt hungry, but also not. This awful dull stomach pain occurred for about an hour and a half and then went away. Came back in between and during meals. I also felt so nauseous. I felt like I needed to pass gas, but could not. While I was analyzing data, I was bending over the chair to “relieve pain”. Pain got so bad I went to the doc. Doctor told me it was gas pains. Physical exam consisted of pressing down on my stomach. It hurt so badly when they did that on my left side. They did a specific blood test and told me it’s nothing serious. Well, I was not okay. I emailed them back the next day and I explained that I also had some acid reflux. They told me to take proton pump inhibitors such as omeprazole and gas-X. I did that for a week. First few days was glorious!!! Then, a week and half later it was worse. I called the ER Kaiser hotline and an ER doc said that he’d prescribe me a stronger PPI. I took that for 2 weeks. Again, felt better and then got significantly worse. I stopped it all together. Ten days later, I felt better.

Several months ago: I knew I had IBS, but my symptoms were getting worse. I asked to speak to a GI doc, I was fatigued, depressed, bloated, gassy (hydrogen sulfide gas smell), abdominal cramping, and the best one constipation. My doc did an over-the-phone questionnaire and told me I have IBS-C. She said to get on gas-x again and start the low-FODMAP diet. The gas went away, but my bloating and other symptoms did not. My doctor then insisted we do a colonoscopy or sigmoidoscopy to rule out IBS-C, but I wasn’t buying it. I felt like there was something deeper going on with my microbes that was the issue. Why would I be bloated all the time and it would get significantly worse by the end of the night EVERYDAY?!

During this time, I got my Viome results back. They noted that I was a fast-fermenter, which I probably was experiencing moderate abdominal discomfort, bloating, excessive gas, and possible GI discomfort. I was like O M G, that is 100% correct. When I looked at my overall GI health, it is not good...all of the markers they use to measure GI health were 50 or lower out of 100. Big red flag.

Again, I just felt like something wasn’t right. Sure, I’d eat out on the weekends once or twice, but my food choices were very strict during the weekdays. I worked/workout 5 times a week, always with my face red and my body aching the next day. The other two days I would and still go out for a walk for a minimum of an hour to 2 hours.

I’ve been tracking my weight since quaratine and I went from 123 lbs to now today 127 lbs. body fat % has went up and it has been 5 months. I have reached out to others and the last piece in terms of aiding weight loss is calorie counting. For the past three days now along with my SIBO diet I am following (I will discuss that more later), the app has told me I am not eating enough?! What?! So I did a dummy test and added two pieces of sourdough bread that I would eat here and there if I didn’t eat oatmeal and I am still in a caloric deficit. This is insane.

So yes, I feel so awful and so frustrated. I asked my G.I. Doctor if I could get a GI MAP test that can identify any negative microbial activity occurring in the gut. It is more specific than Viome. Doctor said they didn’t have it AND she doesn’t want to do it anyway because I don’t have diarrhea, an indication for parasites. Ummmm....wow....

Then, I started digging deeper and read into clinical studies. I discovered SIBO as a result of just simply typing “bloating all day and it gets worse at night”. I came across and article that IBS patients also had SIBO up to 78%. Link is here: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5347643/

I told my doctor about SIBO testing and shown her a few articles I found about the linkage of SIBO and IBS. She said Kaiser didn’t have that test. Go figure. She also said she was not thinking about testing me for it because I didn’t have predominant diarrhea, yet I did have some. It also was diarrhea that was accompanied by undigested food particles. What is up with this diarrhea thing? Just because I don’t have one symptom, you don’t even think to test someone for something? Instead, she told me she could prescribe me antibiotics for two weeks to help treat my suspected SIBO? I asked her about diet changes and she told me to adhere to the low FODMAP diet. If doctors were more aware of the two different types of SIBO, they would know methane-dominant SIBO is significantly harder to treat as the small intestine is overpopulated with archaea (bacteria in small intestine eat the fiber -> production of hydrogen gas -> archaea use the gas -> production of methane gas), not so much bacteria. Ironic, right? Add that with slow transit time of stools and you got microbes fermenting your food longer than normal. �� in the wrong area of the G.I. tract!

I then finally reached out to amazing and to-the-point certified holistic nutritionist named Alyssa. She went over my symptoms and told me I need to get tested for SIBO ASAP. When we spoke about my gut and she listened to my concerns, we were ON THE SAME PAGE! My symptoms are like a lot of other people she has seen hundreds of times. Wow.

So here I am waiting for my results. I ordered the test, took it (prepping is awful) and should get my results anyway now. I did become a rebel because I am so f’ing tired of looking like a pregnant woman that I started the SIBO plan specific for methane-dominant SIBO, which includes the overall comprehensive diet for SIBO. I started taking the supplements for methane-dominant SIBO. More to come on that very soon.

What is important is that no matter how crazy people may think you are, listen to your gut - LITERALLY!!! I plan on changing docs once again. It’s a battle I know is going to be a long road, but I am goal-set. I am ready to take on whatever microbes are harming me, because bloating all day EVERYDAY is NOT normal. Sudden weight gain is NOT normal.

[cinephiled-com]

New Post has been published on Cinephiled

New Post has been published on http://www.cinephiled.com/interview-robin-campillo-explores-work-act-paris-powerful-french-film-bpm/

Interview: Robin Campillo Explores the Work of ACT UP Paris in the Powerful French Film ‘BPM’

In Paris in the early 1990s, a passionate group of activists goes to battle for those stricken with HIV/AIDS, taking on sluggish government agencies and major pharmaceutical companies with bold, invasive actions. The organization is ACT UP — the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power — and its members embrace their task as a literal life-or-death mission. Director Robin Campillo (They Came Back, Eastern Boys), who joined ACT UP Paris himself as a young gay man, tells a riveting story in this film, BPM (Beats Per Minute), of how the ragtag organization helped bring about big changes.

In the Paris college classroom where the members of ACT UP PARIS meet to argue debate strategy and plan its protests, a newcomer named Nathan (Arnaud Valois) is attracted to one of the group’s most outspoken members, Sean (Nahuel Pérez Biscayart). Eager to push the limits in disruptive public confrontations, Sean grows testy and impatient with the more moderate approaches advocated by the group’s leaders, Thibault (Antoine Reinartz) and Sophie (Adèle Haenel). There is an urgency driving his radicalism — his health is more fragile than many of the other gay and straight activists. As the group scrambles from boisterous street demonstrations and boardroom face-offs to dance floors pulsing with light and rhythm, Nathan and Sean��s relationship deepens. As Sean gets sicker, their passion sparks against the shadow of mortality, and the community of activists plots its most dramatic protest yet. I sat down with Robin Campillo and actors Arnaud Valois and Nahuel Pérez Biscayart to discuss this moving film.

Danny Miller: I knew nothing about ACT UP Paris but I did know one of the founders of ACT UP Chicago, Dan Sotomayor, who died in 1992 when this film takes place. I’m sorry I didn’t get involved with the group at the time since I now really see the value of that kind of confrontational political action. Robin, having been a member of the organization, was this something you’ve long wanted to make a film about?

Robin Campillo: Yes. I have always wanted to do a film that touched on the AIDS epidemic but it took me some time to find the heart of what I wanted to say. I wrote some earlier scripts that I put away and more recently found myself thinking of this time in my life in the early 90s when I got involved with ACT UP. It was so not my personality to become militant in any way, but I was so angry and upset at the inaction at the time. I’ve always felt that the most popular political position is indifference. That remains a major problem in our society and it’s something that’s very difficult to fight against.

Do you think it’s because so many HIV-positive people were dying all around you that many people who never saw themselves as radical in any way became these courageous activists?

Yes, absolutely. Mobilization is always very hard to do, but you’re right, it’s because so many people were dying — we felt we had no choice. It’s very rare to have this political window where you can actually start to change things. ACT UP started here in the United States and we were very inspired by the American model. I was an editor for a TV news show and was editing a lot of stories about ACT UP. I heard the president of ACT UP Paris in one of these reports and was very impressed. And then, to be honest, one night I had this sex date planned very close to the place were ACT UP was meeting then, but the guy stood me up. I was upset about that and decided to go to the ACT UP meeting instead — which completely changed my life!

Wow, that’s the best story about being stood up that I ever heard!

(Laughs.) Many people in France at that time (and everywhere) were very afraid and intolerant of gay people, especially because of AIDS. So we decided to use that as a weapon. We would burst into all these events at different organizations and it was very powerful. Amongst ourselves we’d laugh at the effects we had on people — if they were afraid of us, we were going to make them even more afraid in order to make groups take action to help all the people who were getting sick.

I know this film is fictional, but I’m assuming if any character was based on you, it must be Nathan?

Yes, to some extent. Like me, Nathan is a newcomer, he’s shy, and he never thought he would end up an activist. And when Nathan is taking about his past in the film, it’s basically me. I actually wrote that text about 10 years ago for an AIDS conference, and I was very happy to put those words into Nathan’s mouth.

Arnaud Valois: And that was the only scene in the entire film where Robin said, “You have to say it word for word, stick to the text!” The only one.

Robin Campillo: It’s true. Of course, Nathan is much calmer than I was at the time. I really like my characters to have lots of contradictions, I’m not into archetypes that don’t really exist in the real world. I don’t make films because I completely know the characters, I make them because I want to discover the characters along with the audience. The first draft of the character that I write is never going to be the final character, I leave a lot to my actors.

That’s great — and what a lot of responsibility it gives to you, Arnaud and Nahuel. You’re both amazing in the film. Did you also feel a big responsibility to learn as much as you could about those times and the AIDS crisis?

Arnaud Valois: We read a book called ACT UP by Didier Lestrade, the first president of ACT UP Paris, we watched a lot of archival footage of the protests and some documentaries, but you know, Robin told us he did not want us to become experts on the subject — he wanted us to be like our characters, young and a bit naïve, and just go with the flow.

Nahuel Pérez Biscayart: I also watched this amazing documentary called Silverlake Life: The View from Here, from 1993 that was made by two HIV-positive guys who were filming each other and then one of them dies first and then the other. It was such a strong film — real-life first-person stuff about how the sickness really goes. For me, that was the perfect film to watch to understand what my character was going through, I didn’t watch any fiction films of the subject. Then, of course, it was just a matter of trust. I think a good director is someone who sees in you something that you may not be seeing. When you have that kind of trust, the energy just starts flowing, I didn’t just feel like I was playing a character, I felt like something bigger was happening.

I wasn’t there, obviously, but as an audience member, I had the feeling that the same kind of bonding that was happening within the ACT UP Paris group in the film was actually happening with the actors on the set.

It exactly was! Even though we were so different, each person in the cast was just so completely different from one another.

Robin Campillo: And that was the case in ACT UP, too. I wanted to recreate that energy and diversity, and that space and electricity that can happen between people. There’s such possibility when that happens.

Nahuel Pérez Biscayart: Some movies about real events think that they have the answers, that each character has the solution. Nobody gets lost in those films. But that’s not what this film is about at all.

After being in this film, do you feel like you’re more of an activist than you were before?

Arnaud Valois: More aware, that’s for sure, and more concerned.

There are so many analogies you can make to today when you watch this film, even apart from the AIDS crisis. I feel like we’re all being called on to become confrontational activists. Maybe we need an ACT UP Trump movement.

Robin Campillo: Sometimes it takes traumatic events to change a person. I remember reading this science fiction book when I was a kid that was about these aliens coming to Earth and some of the people on Earth really worked hard to learn the aliens’ language but then they discover that the act of speaking their language makes them actually become the aliens. That’s kind of how I felt in my life when I found ACT UP — I became someone different, a foreigner, a stranger to myself. And there was no possibility of going back to how it was before.

You could almost say it’s the other way around — that you were alien before and then you found your real self.

Maybe. But one of the things I love about cinema is that I think it can do that, too. A film can change you and make you feel like a stranger to yourself.

Does ACT UP Paris have an honored position in France these days? Or is the group dismissed as a bunch of troublemakers?

It was certainly not respected at the time by many people. It’s funny, though — to hear the discussions among people at Cannes when we brought the film there, you’d think that everyone loved ACT UP and that everyone was somehow involved with the group. All French people were in ACT UP like all French people were in the Resistance during World War II. No one collaborated with the Germans, right? It’s nice to make these claims now in retrospect but it’s just not true. Most were not on our side back then — we were just a bunch of fags and dykes and way too dodgy to be accepted at the time.

I love that this film does not rely on any of the stereotypes that many American films that touch on the AIDS epidemic do.

Nahuel Pérez Biscayart: Yeah, it’s a very unusual film compared to typical American cinema. Who are the main characters? You can go through half the film and not know. Who are the heroes? Who’s dying? Who’s in love with who?

The length of the film alone (2 hours and 20 minutes) would make American producers go nuts. Robin, did you get any pressure to shorten the film?

Robin Campillo: Not by my producers, but the programmer of Cannes called me and said they really loved the film but it was just too long so could I possibly cut it?

How did you respond?

I said, “Yes, I’ll try my best” and then we told him we cut seven minutes but in truth we only cut one! (Laughs.) They never noticed.

I wouldn’t have minded if it were an hour longer. I would have liked a whole film on Sophie, or the mother, or Thibault — any of those characters.

I love to think that when you see characters that they have an entire world of their own that we’re not seeing — that we don’t know them enough. Characters exist more like that in novels but in cinema, for some reason, characters are often ridiculously narrowed. Why do we have to do that?

I’m sure you’re aware of the horrific attacks against the LGBTQ community here since Trump took office. I assume it’s a much better situation in France right now?

I mean, Macron is not openly attacking LGBT groups, but he doesn’t really care, it’s not a subject he ever discusses. He really doesn’t know very much at all.

BPM (Bests Per Minute) opens today in Los Angeles and will be playing in select cities nationwide.

[np254]

No, it’s not a click bait. I quit social media and am in rehab.

Let me explain:

What

I deactivated my Instagram account.

I deleted the Facebook app on my phone. I cannot completely deactivate my account, because I am administrating a page (hence the responsibilities). I only access FB from my phone in case of emergencies. Everyday, I check my notifications once or twice from my laptop.

I logged out of Tumblr on my phone and deleted the app. Visits reduced to 2-3 times a week.

The only social-networking app I am still using on a daily basis is Messenger, which is more like a messaging app.

When

From October 13th. Undecided end date.

Why

1. My clean history with social media

I have been socially active all my life and been using my social accounts very consciously for years. Ever since my childhood, my parents have taught me about the importance of moderation when it comes to social media. Even though I have had 2 emails (not one, but two!) for 11 years (and I am 20), my parents have given me guidance on managing these from the very beginning. It was the same with Facebook (which I’ve also been having for about 10 years) – during the first few years, I never went online without parental controls. And for that I was thankful.

Even when I gained full control of my socials, which was about 7 years ago, everything was still going well. Although I have a lot of friends in school and from my social activities, social networks have always been there for its initial purpose – to help me stay in touch with people.

Even when I took charge of my social media accounts, I still used them with caution and consideration. On Facebook, I only connect with people whom I have actually met in real life or whom I have heard about/talked to or with whom I have many mutual friends. My Instagram account has been private from the beginning and I have my own “rules” when accepting new followers. It explains why my social circle is not massive but the interaction rate is remarkable.

At once I could confidently state: “I am a Digital Native, I know my way around social networks”.

2. The addiction

In the beginning it was very subtle. The addiction.

The addiction is young. It started since I went to Germany to study abroad 2 years ago. At the time, I wouldn’t say that it was an addiction. However, it was definitely slight overuse. As I started my “adult life” on my own in a country far away from home, away from any kind of supervision whatsoever, I allowed myself to do whatever I want as long as it’s justifiable.

Somehow I felt the need to update my life online constantly, mainly because: – of the distance. Being so far from each other, I wanted to keep my family informed about my new life – of the time-zone difference. Being online constantly helped me stay informed about family and friends at home. – Germany is beautiful, I had a good life and I wanted to brag about it So I ended up being online a lot. Luckily, I had a group of five girlfriends and we spent a lot of time together cooking, chatting, baking and studying, so I was distracted from my phone and laptop.

After the first year, I moved to Hamburg. Around this time, I started my hobby with analog photography and this blog. I also started my course at the HAW. Here we learned about the importance of our online presence – whether it is necessary and what are the risks. I decided that an online presence is inevitably necessary, since I am a hobby photographer and later on want to work in the media.

I think I did a good job maintaining my online image. I am on every social networks and my profile on each network is carefully though-over and well-drafted. They coexist in harmony with the same username and together they portray different aspects of my personality exactly how I want them to.

It would be nice if I stopped there. But I didn’t.

I craved validation, but my craving was the worst type – I didn’t actually need validation, I just wanted to put myself and my life online, and for that I would feel satisfied enough. The thought that everyone knew how great/not great my life was fed my ego. In my head, I told myself that I am doing a great job sharing with people the often unnoticed moments in life (very noble, I know). Of course, I was ecstatic when someone responded, but that was not the main point.

Now, I will include another factor that played a role. But I also want to disclaim that I do not intend to put all the blame on it. It was only unfortunate that among many other reasons, a long-distance relationship also contributed to the growth of my addiction. Along with my own craving for validation, I had another justified reason to post about every little thing in my life.

From there, everything went downhill. I was online all the time, and I mean the literal  meaning of the phrase. 24 hours a day. 7 days a week. The first thing I do every morning was checking my phone for messages from the night, notifications on every social networks, emails, Facebook newsfeed and Instagram feed. This ritual took at least 30 minutes every morning, often an hour. If I didn’t do this, I could not wake up. You can say that my brain delved into new notifications to wake myself up.

Then, during the course of the day, I was online constantly, even when there was nothing more to check. Social networks are programmed to be addictive, to this I agree. Even when I had something to do (e.g. am in a lecture), I would still occasionally pull out my phone, completely unawared, and aimlessly scroll through the feeds. When I had read everything, I would turn to the “Discover” tab, which both Facebook and Instagram have. The vicious cycle went on and on.

Besides from checking the feeds, I also posted content. I trust my taste and my aesthetics, so I invested a lot of time in choosing and editing the photos that I post. A little while ago, I reached the peak of my addiction, where I spent excessive time on content for my Instagram story. I would edit the photos in 1-2 apps then design the layout with beautiful text description in another app. Just to post to a virtual story that will only last for 24 hours. When I was bored, I would write quotes. To have nice hand-writing by smearing your finger on the touch screen is not the most efficient thing to do. I wrote and rewrote until the quotes looked decent and met my aesthetic standards. All that too, served the Instagram story that is only visible for 24 hours.

I agree that there are people who have to do this for the sake of their career. They could be professionals who do this for a living. Considering that I am neither a professional nor  earn any cents from my social accounts, I was wasting so much time for nothing.

A few examples of my “creations” for my Instagram story:

Each of these took about 30 minutes.

The bad thing about the situation was that, I didn’t actually posted a lot on Facebook and Instagram. I only checked the feeds too frequently. Therefore, my addiction went unnoticed for a long time, since nobody, even myself, ever addressed my overuse.

It came to the point where I could not part with my phone or my laptop anymore. I would switch between my phone and laptop. Either one of them was always on, sometimes both. I would even check my phone while my laptop was booting or loading something. From time to time, I found myself in distress because I could never finish the book that I found interesting, or invest time in self-improvement as I did a year ago. Despite my distress, I never succeeded in cutting down my online time to spend time on other things. I just couldn’t.

3. The breakpoint

A month ago, something that happened had shaken me awake and rewired my way of thinking. My apologies for not explaining what this “something” was, for it is a personal matter.

I realised that I would waste my entire future if I didn’t make a change. I felt my mental capabilities deteriorated. I saw that I was not missing out on the virtual world, rather the actual world.

I did not want to live my life anymore, and I was the one who caused it all. 

I have thought about seeking help, but I figured, maybe I could still cure myself, as long as there is a strong self-discipline. With this mindset, I started out on my personal rehab. It is still happening. If it goes wrong, here you can read in black and white, i promise that I will seek professional help.

How’s it been? What have I learned?

It has been difficult, of course.

Like every other addiction, the cravings are unbearable. It’s especially hard when I check my socials in the morning or before I go to bed. If I lose control, I can scroll on forever.

The most noticeable thing are random moments. Sometimes when I find something funny, or an interesting thought passes my mind, I feel a very strong urge to post something onto my Instagram story. Other times, I would open the “Social Networking” app folder on my phone, where I have remembered the positions of every app, and tapped intuitively, only to choose the wrong one (because I deleted some).

From this experience, I learn that the nice moments in life should be enjoyed in person. Even when there is no friend around to share with. I learn to find joy in them. Getting used to not instantaneously share everything online is hard, often times I find myself reaching for my phone, then put it away, then look around to find a familiar face, then look up to the sky and smile to myself. As if there is a sacred secret between me and an unknown Significant Power.

Solitude and happiness may seem like they will never go together, but happiness is actually in its purest form when you can share it with yourself and the universe. The happiness you feel is a whole, and you feel it with your entire heart and attention. Most often, we try to share our happiness, forgetting that it should be felt by us first, before it can be shared with others. Otherwise, the happiness would lose its purpose: to fulfil one’s soul.

Another thing I’ve learned, is that I do not need to prove my emotions.  Honestly, people do not give much attention to what they see online, because the flow of information is endless, so they jump from this to that, quickly forgetting what they have seen. No one has noticed that I stopped using Instagram, even though I had been posting actively. As my account is deactivated, you can’t find me or tag me. From this I learn that life is not a stage and you don’t need an audience. Nobody will judge you if you are not happy, and the fact that you are happy and you show it does not do anything for anyone else, if they don’t truly care about you.

And people who care will go out of their way to make sure that you are fine. Even if you do not post anything on social networks, they will try to reach you. Such a short and simple message like “Hey, how are you doing? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” can light up my day brighter than 50 likes on a pic on Instagram.

Do I feel FOMO?

“Fear of missing out” has become a chronic disease. Funnily, I felt like I have always been having FOMO ever since I started using social media. No matter how often I check my feeds, I would still miss out on something.

To me, it doesn’t make any significance when I stop using social media in comparison to when I still used them in terms of FOMO. It’s not like I have stopped informing myself about the world. Quite the opposite, I read the newspaper regularly to know what is going on in real life.

The only problem that I currently still can’t solve is that I do not know what my friends abroad are doing. I have very good friends from school, with whom I do not talk very often but like to keep up with them via their social media accounts. Now that I am going completely sans Instagram, I don’t have a clue how they are doing, and simply hitting them up via Messenger just to ask if they are fine seems awkward and weird.

So far, this is my experience from one week with massively restricted social media usage.  The struggle and the journey continue…

Deep down I wish that something good will come out of this.

I quit social media

[mastcomm]

Coronavirus Live Updates: Disease Roughly 20 Times Deadlier Than Seasonal Flu

The new virus is deadlier than the one that causes the flu.

An analysis of 44,672 coronavirus patients in China whose diagnoses were confirmed by laboratory testing has found that 1,023 had died by Feb. 11. That’s a fatality rate of 2.3 percent. Figures released on a daily basis suggest the rate has further increased in recent days.

That is far higher than the mortality rate of the seasonal flu, with which the new coronavirus has sometimes been compared.

In the United States, flu fatality rates hover around 0.1 percent.

The new analysis was posted online by researchers at the Chinese Center for Disease Control and Prevention.

Over all, about 81 percent of patients with confirmed diagnoses experienced mild illness, the researchers found. Nearly 14 percent had severe cases of COVID-19, the disease caused by the new coronavirus, and about 5 percent had critical illness.

Thirty percent of those who died were in their 60s, 30 percent were in their 70s and 20 percent were age 80 or older. Though men and women were roughly equally represented among the confirmed cases, men made up nearly 64 percent of the deaths. Patients with underlying medical conditions, such as cardiovascular disease or diabetes, died at higher rates.

Updated Feb. 10, 2020

What is a Coronavirus? It is a novel virus named for the crown-like spikes that protrude from its surface. The coronavirus can infect both animals and people, and can cause a range of respiratory illnesses from the common cold to more dangerous conditions like Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome, or SARS.

How contagious is the virus? According to preliminary research, it seems moderately infectious, similar to SARS, and is possibly transmitted through the air. Scientists have estimated that each infected person could spread it to somewhere between 1.5 and 3.5 people without effective containment measures.

How worried should I be? While the virus is a serious public health concern, the risk to most people outside China remains very low, and seasonal flu is a more immediate threat.

Who is working to contain the virus? World Health Organization officials have praised China’s aggressive response to the virus by closing transportation, schools and markets. This week, a team of experts from the W.H.O. arrived in Beijing to offer assistance.

What if I’m traveling? The United States and Australia are temporarily denying entry to noncitizens who recently traveled to China and several airlines have canceled flights.

How do I keep myself and others safe? Washing your hands frequently is the most important thing you can do, along with staying at home when you’re sick.

The fatality rate among patients in Hubei Province, the center of China’s outbreak, was more than seven times higher than that of other provinces.

China on Tuesday announced new figures for the outbreak. The number of cases was put at 72,436 — up from 70,548 the day before — and the death toll now stands at 1,868, up from 1,770, the authorities said.

U.S. officials learned cruise ship evacuees were infected at the last minute.

A day before 328 Americans were to be whisked away from a contaminated cruise ship in Japan, the U.S. Embassy in Tokyo told passengers that no one infected with the new coronavirus would be allowed to board charter flights to the United States.

But those plans were hastily changed after the test results for 14 passengers came back positive — just as they were being loaded onto buses and dispatched to the airport, where two reconfigured cargo jets were waiting to fly them to military bases in California and Texas.

After consultations with health experts, the U.S. government decided to let the infected evacuees, who were not yet exhibiting symptoms, board the flights.

The reversal was the latest chaotic turn in a two-week quarantine of the ship, the Diamond Princess, that has become an epidemiological nightmare.

Cambodia’s leader is famously complacent about the coronavirus. That may exact a global toll.

When Cambodia’s prime minister greeted passengers on a cruise ship amid a coronavirus scare on Valentine’s Day, embraces were the order of the day. Protective masks were not.

Not only did Prime Minister Hun Sen not wear one, assured that the ship was virus-free, his bodyguards ordered people who had donned masks to take them off. The next day, the American ambassador to Cambodia, W. Patrick Murphy, who brought his own family to greet the passengers streaming off the ship, also went maskless.

“We are very, very grateful that Cambodia has opened literally its ports and doors to people in need,” Mr. Murphy said. Five other ports had said no.

But after hundreds of passengers had disembarked, one later tested positive for the coronavirus.

Now, health officials worry that what Cambodia opened its doors to was the outbreak, and that the world may pay a price as passengers from the cruse ship Westerdam stream home.

Officials are testing those passengers still on the ship, but health authorities may be hard put to trace all the those who have headed back to their home.

Apple cuts sales forecast as the outbreak slows both production and demand.

Apple said on Monday that it was cutting its sales forecast because of the coronavirus, in a sign of how the outbreak is taking a toll on manufacturing, even at one of the world’s most valuable companies.

The announcement came hours before China announced new figures for the outbreak.

In a statement, the iPhone maker, which is heavily dependent on factories in China, said its supply of smartphones would be hurt because production was slowed by the outbreak.

None of the factories that make iPhones are in Hubei Province, the center of the outbreak, but travel restrictions have hindered other parts of the country as well. Production was taking longer than hoped to get back on track after the facilities reopened following the Lunar New Year holiday, the company said.

Apple said it was also cutting its sales forecast because demand for its products was being hurt in China. China has been one of the Silicon Valley company’s fastest-growing and largest markets.

Apple’s warning is significant because it is a bellwether of global demand and supply of products. The company said it was “fundamentally strong, and this disruption to our business is only temporary.”

Reporting and research was contributed by Hannah Beech, Richard C. Paddock, Motoko Rich and Daisuke Wakabayashi.

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/event/coronavirus-live-updates-disease-roughly-20-times-deadlier-than-seasonal-flu/

[spiritualgravity]

The Crusade.

BC. AC. Before child. After child. 

From October 2, 2017 — onward, that is how the days will be categorized in the Dewey Decimal System of my life. 

Countless people told me over the years how they don’t remember what their life was like before they had their child(ren). 

Not me. I remember all of it. 

BC = Jeans with zippers. Working out whenever I wanted. A social life. Sleeping. Dates with my sidekick. 

AC = Leggings. Not working out for a year. Rarely seeing friends for quality time together. Dates? What are dates?

Maybe I vividly recall BC because I had my first child later in life than the average gal. I got pregnant & gave birth at 38 years old, so I have many memories of what life was like pre-baby.

As I chronicled in this blog during and after my pregnancy, I really just wanted to know that I’d be able to keep my daughter alive and safe. That was it. “You’ll figure it out, you just will.” And they were right.

I had girlfriends from all walks of life give me invaluable tips about the actual labor and what to expect. I thanked them profusely for giving me all the gory details and useful product hacks to care for my mangled body immediately following birth and onward for several weeks, and have even passed those insights onto other ladies over the last year who have a little one on the way. But no one, not a single person, talked to me about postpartum depression.

Which is shocking, because evidently lots of women suffer from postpartum depression. But most are never diagnosed, which is frightening to say the least. According to the CDC, nationally, about 1 in 9 women experience symptoms of postpartum depression. 

There is some kind of unexplainable gag order on the subject. Are we embarrassed? Do we think we’re the only one going through it? Will people judge us who don’t get it? Whatever the unspoken rules are, it isn’t an openly discussed topic. Only when you proactively bring it up in conversation, will others confide that they survived PPD.

How often postpartum depression symptoms occur, how long they last, and how intense they feel can be different for each person. The symptoms of postpartum depression are similar to symptoms for good old fashioned depression, but may also include:

Crying more often than usual.

Feelings of anger.

Withdrawing from loved ones.

Feeling numb or disconnected from your baby.

Worrying that you will hurt the baby.

Feeling guilty about not being a good mom or doubting your ability to care for the baby.

After childbirth, the levels of hormones (estrogen and progesterone) in a woman’s body plummet. This leads to chemical changes in her brain that may will trigger mood swings. In addition, many mothers are unable to get the rest they need to fully recover from giving birth. Constant sleep deprivation can lead to physical discomfort and exhaustion, which can contribute to the symptoms of postpartum depression.

Sleep deprivation. Bingo. I 1,000% attribute my PPD to lack of sleep. My daughter has never liked to sleep much, not from day 1. Breastfeeding around the clock + not sleeping are unequivocally responsible for the erosion of my wellbeing. 

Never in a million years did I anticipate the troubles my husband and I would face. A “colicky” baby. The most helpless I have ever felt, is not being able to soothe my baby. A baby with several food allergies. A baby that would not sleep in any contraption, whatsoever. A baby who had to be physically rocked to sleep every single time. A baby who was chronically unhappy. A baby with reflux. A baby who didn’t eat enough and slowly slid down the weight ratio scale for her age. A baby who. A baby who. A baby who. The fill-in-the-blank baby list was endless, and the list suffocated me. On a few occasions, the things I thought about her and about myself during the darkest darkness, I cannot yet find the courage to type here. But, I promise when I write my book about the experience, I will tell the whole truth because I know I’m not alone.

I am a master preparer; I inherited that attribute from my father. Planning, road-mapping, tracking, the whole nine yards. I organized a binder for labor, birth and after birth, highlighted, underlined and marked up with copious notes what I learned from my Doula and the hospital classes months leading up to birth. But no where in there did it talk about PPD.

Not that anyone could have prepared me per se, but I never even saw it coming. For some reason, I convinced myself that I was fine, and would be fine. On a handful of occasions, maybe two or three times, ladies used PPD in conversation during my first six weeks as a Mother, and I immediately wrote it off. Maybe I was in denial. Maybe I truly didn’t think I had PPD, besides which, I had no context or experience. I figured all of my dark thoughts and feelings were “normal.” I figured crying, everyday, throughout the day, was par for the course. Being sleep deprived and having your world flipped upside down overnight would bring anyone to their knees…right?

At six weeks postpartum, exactly 1 day before my OB/GYN check-in appointment, I was accidentally diagnosed with PPD while being seen for a stye in my eye. The universe has a funny way of intervening. If it wasn’t for that one-eyed monster stye, I would have never gone into a medical office for assistance with mental help. I filled out a new patient intake form at the PCP, and evidently whatever questions I answered, was a blazing red flag for the doc. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes, or the sound of her soft, concerned voice when she said, “You have moderate to severe post partum depression.” She literally made me promize, multiple times, to talk to my OB/GYN doc about it the following day.

Zoloft only exacerbated my sleeplessness and caused insomnia — so the coveted minutes I actually could have slept, I didn’t...I moved onto Wellbutrin, a pharmaceutical alma mater of mine. You see, I had a bout of depression when I was 20-years-old in college. That drug saved my life. I try not to pop Advil every time my head hurts, but to say I’m an advocate of getting treatment for a chemical imbalance would be a massive understatement. 

I have stayed on Wellbutrin, fluctuating the dosage up and down for many months since first being diagnosed. Then, the Universe intervened, yet again. I got another stye in my other eye when my daughter was about 10 months old, give or take, so back to the primary care physician’s office I went. And what did we talk about in the examination room? PPD. Of course we did. Ugh. She prescribed another medication for me to take on top of the Wellbutrin. I can’t exactly explain the scientific rationale, but it has something to do with a special concoction — the two meds work better together, I suppose like Jack Johnson beautifully sang? Eating only peanut butter on bread just isn’t the same sensation as when you add jelly to the sandwich.

Within a few weeks on the new PBJ duo prescription, I felt remarkably better. All of the sudden, I could cope. Things in the past that would seemingly debilitate me, I could now handle. And handle fairly well if I do say so myself.

My daughter is now 14-months-old; I’ve been taking a prescription for PPD since she was six weeks old. A part of my intellect is at peace with the current reality — at least I’m functioning, and dare I say it...happy. But at the same time, my ego is bruised. Am I artificially content? Is my happiness manufactured? What will happen if I stop taking the medication? Will I go back to the constant crying? Or am I past it and no longer need the chemical crutch? I’m too afraid to find out, yet.

So instead of having anxiety about having anxiety, I’ve been trying to focus on my self-proclaimed, Self-Care Crusade. 

Ever since the doctor added jelly to my wellbeing sandwich, I’ve been knee-deep in activities that involve “doing me.” Individually, they’re pretty small, but collectively, they have rocked my world in the best way possible.

Every night before bed, I take a few minutes to roll out my back/spine. My chiropractor gave me those directions, and while I’m a compliant patient who always follows directions, I never realized how such a trivial task could quite literally lift the weight of the world off of my shoulders. Five minutes later, when I roll into bed, I feel 10 pounds lighter.

I started to read again. Sure, maybe I’ve only completed four chapters in a month, but it’s better than nothing. I’m convinced that, “Girl, Wash Your Face” was written for me. It’s about lies that we tell ourselves as women, and calling out our own bullshit. When the author was writing her pitch document to find a publisher, under target demographic, I am absolutely sure that it said: Mary Beth from Virginia. 

I began to eat better around the middle of August. I’ll have to dedicate another blog post to this undertaking, but my God, fitting into JEANS…with a freaking ZIPPER, is glorious. 

I joined a gym around my daughter’s 1st birthday in October, which is sort of like joining a church in my book. It’s a holy experience to reflect, meditate, and turn off the noise. To have solitude and lift weights and sweat. It is cathartic and an outlet for renewal. It took one whole year after becoming a Mom to feel like I could muster up the energy to purposefully move muscles. My daughter continued to keep me on my sleep-deprived toes for nearly 12 months. She graduated from sleep training school at 4 1/2 months old which was a massive success, but there were inevitably age-related sleep regressions, sicknesses, and Mercury Retrograde for all I know along the way, causing her to wake up every night and leaving me looking and feeling like a Mombie Zombie. After she finally hit her snoozing stride around her first birthday, the next challenge was getting my daughter acclimated to leaving her alone with complete strangers in the gym’s daycare; that endeavor took a few brutal weeks of separation anxiety adjustment on her end. But it worked. I finally earned an hour all to myself to focus on moi…three times a week.

I started saying daily affirmations, along with following a program called Aura Soma. In a nut shell, I take a few minutes, twice a day, while closing my eyes, and focus on my highest self. I could never adequately explain what Aura Soma is (otherwise I’d describe it as essential oils on steroids), so the company’s description will have to do: “Harnessing the vibrational powers of Mother Nature, Aura‑Soma is a system of colour, plant and crystal energies that enhance happiness and vitality. Created using the highest quality organic and biodynamic ingredients our products bring ease, balance and calm to your energetic system. While strengthening and protecting the aura they empower and elevate.” It makes me feel heavenly and has awakened a part of my consciousness that has been dormant for, well, probably since forever.

While I do still very clearly remember my BC days, my early AC days are starting to fade…which I never, ever thought was possible. I thought the darkest, lowest moments of despair would always be engraved in the Temporal Lobe of my brain. So much so, it made me second guess if I could fathom having a second child, something I always envisioned. But it turns out that our minds have a way of protecting us over time. I suppose like when people who have been through horrific traumas, and their subconscious blocks out the memories entirely. 

The manual swinging, and rocking, and willing my baby to sleep in a pitch black bathroom with no windows, while tears were drenching my cheeks and my lower back was in agony — all day long — I rarely, if ever, think of those days anymore. What’s more, on one or maybe two recent occasions, I had a case of baby fever, and it’s worth mentioning that I was conscious when those thoughts happened. 

I am now finally on the other side of suffering, artificial happiness or not, all that matters is that I made it through. Today I’m truly enjoying my daughter, virtually every moment, of every day. She is hilarious, loving, smart and simply the best human I’ve ever known. I’m grateful that I’m finally at a point, and she’s at an age, where we can absolutely adore each other. I love her to pieces, and even miss her when she’s asleep {which is crazy since I’m with her all day long} — I’ve got a really serious, undiagnosed case of infatuation going on for baby girl. The stars are brighter than ever and I can see the constellation of my heart shining again. 

Are there problems orbiting in my shiny world? Of course, too many to count. But all that matters is that I’m capable of coping with them, and crushing this crusade like a boss.

[foursproutwealth-blog]

Rand Paul: It's Time For A New American Foreign Policy

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/wealth/rand-paul-its-time-for-a-new-american-foreign-policy/

Rand Paul: It's Time For A New American Foreign Policy

Authored by Rand Paul via The Strategic Culture Foundation,

Americans have also been increasingly clear that they are tired of constant war

What kind of job can you have where you are consistently wrong, yet get to still go on TV talking endlessly and making more wild predictions that will no doubt lead to the same failed result?

If you guessed “TV Weatherman” you’re close…but the job I’m referring to is “Neocon Foreign Policy Expert”.

Being a neocon means never having to say you’re sorry, even trillions of dollars and decades into doomed wars.

Iraq

Famously, the neocons have told us that we would be greeted as liberators in Iraq. The thousands of American soldiers killed or wounded might argue otherwise. The architects of the Iraq war forgot to tell us that it would embolden Iran and give Iran a new ally in the ‘liberated’ Shia majority in Iraq. They forgot to tell us that it would tip the balance of power in the Middle East and encourage Saudi Arabia to go on a military buying spree and become the third largest purchasers of weapons in the world.

Libya

The neocons told us that the Arab Spring would bring Western-style democracy to the Middle East. They told us toppling Muammar el-Qaddafi would bring freedom and stability. They were wrong and instead of stability the overthrow of Qaddafi brought chaos. They failed to understand that the chaos of Libya would become a breeding ground for terrorism.

Syria

The neocons loudly announced that regime change in Syria was their goal. Yet, even Hillary Clinton realized the problem when our arms, as well as Saudi and Qatari arms, were getting delivered in the hands of ISIS. In one of the Wikileaks emails, Hillary warned Podesta: “the governments of Qatar and Saudi Arabia . . . are providing clandestine financial and logistic support to ISIS and other radical groups in the region.”

And yet, the deliveries of Western arms to jihadists went on and on for years.

Despite the evidence that many of the fighters opposing Assad were jihadists with an equal hatred for Israel and the United States, the weapons kept flowing.

Remember their call to arm the “moderate fighters?” Who can forget the $260 million spent to train sixty fighters, ten of whom were captured only minutes after they were sent into battle.

The neocons vociferously argued that Assad must go. Senators McCain and Graham argued that you couldn’t defeat ISIS without also defeating Assad. John Bolton went so far as to pontificate that “defeating the Islamic State” is “neither feasible nor desirable” if Assad remains in power. Actually, the opposite was true. Only when the mission changed from removing Assad to attacking ISIS did the tide finally turn.

Max Abrahms and John Glaser wrote in the LA Times late last year that contrary to neocon dogma, ISIS “imploded right after external support for the ‘moderate’ rebels dried up.”

So, the neocons who argued that ISIS couldn’t or shouldn’t be defeated without first defeating Assad were wrong again.

In the 2016 presidential primary two candidates—myself and Donald Trump—declared that the Iraq War was a mistake, that we should not arm our enemies and that America didn’t have a dog in every fight.

I campaigned against the folly of recent neocon wars, the futility of nation building, and the bankruptcy, moral and literal, of the idea of policing the world. So did Donald Trump—for the most part.

So where do we go from here? Congress is still dominated by neocons. The Trump administration shows no sign of ending the Afghan war. If anything, President Trump has doubled down on our support for Saudi Arabia in the Yemeni civil war. Candidate Trump, who consistently voiced his displeasure with the Iraq War, has surrounded himself with generals still intent on finding military solutions where none exist.

Neocon critics believe the world is black and white. You’re either Churchill or Chamberlain. You’re either with us or against us. You’re either a patriot or an isolationist.

The irony is that the neocons are the TRUE isolationists. The neocons wish to isolate and forbid trade with regimes that they disapprove of. The neocon policy toward Cuba is the very definition of isolationism.

For over half a century, we’ve had an embargo with Cuba. Not only did the Castros survive it, but they milked it for everything it was worth. The Cuban government stoked the flames of nationalism in Cuba and blamed America for anything that went wrong, rather than the true culprit—their own dogmatic socialism.

The isolationist neocons want to continue this embargo. They want to peel back the small diplomatic gains that have been made. They want to pare back cultural exchange and dialogue.

The opposite, free travel and trade, is what is needed.

Our founders understood the perils of perpetual war.

John Quincy Adams echoed and summed the spirit of the foreign policy of our founders when he said:

America goes not abroad in search of monsters to destroy. She is the well-wisher to the freedom and independence of all. She is the champion and vindicator only of her own.

Far from being isolationist, the foreign policy of our Founders is the true engagement. To seek honest friendship, free commerce, open dialogue and peaceful engagement with all who are willing.

Libertarian realists agree.

We do not seek to retreat within our borders—nor do we seek to expand them.

We do not seek a wall to keep everyone out, nor to keep anyone in.

Too often the United States has attempted to till the soil in foreign lands with our bombs and plow it with our tanks.

Instead, we should seek to help others till their land with our tractors and reap their harvest with our combines.

The neocons argue that Americans want a more robust foreign policy. Maybe, but at the same time, Americans have also been increasingly clear that they are tired of constant war.

Reagan had it right when he said “our reluctance for conflict should not be misjudged as a failure of will.”

In fact, restraint is a triumph of will.

After the debacles of Iraq and Libya, after becoming weary of a drawn-out mission in Afghanistan, the American people are looking for a new path for foreign policy.

America should steer clear of other countries civil wars, such as Yemen.

We should not be in wars where the best outcome is stalemate, as we are in Afghanistan.

And America shouldn’t fight wars that are not authorized by Congress.

Admittedly, the War on Terror is not over, but any military action must be judged by this question: will this use of force kill more terrorists than it creates?

Refueling Saudi bombers mid-air and supplying them with bombs that are dropped on a funeral procession is exactly the kind of misguided policy that creates more terrorists than it kills.

To defend our country properly, we must understand that while there are those that hate our values, military interventions aimed at changing that at the point of a gun—or the blast radius of a bomb—may well exacerbate this hatred rather than end it.

We need a foreign policy that recognizes its own limits, a common sense realism of strength, limited action, full diplomatic engagement and free trade.

Here’s how I see the most important principles of this foreign policy.

First, the use of force must always be on the table, but rarely used. War should be the last resort, not the first.

War is necessary when America is attacked or directly and clearly threatened, and when we have exhausted all measures short of war.

The second principle is that Congress, the people’s representative, must authorize the decision to intervene.

The most serious decision we make as a nation is to send our sons or daughters to war. We should make it together, and we should vote on it.

Finally, how do we solve non-military challenges in places like Asia and Eastern Europe?

That’s where the third principle comes in – a firm, full commitment to diplomacy and leadership.

Hysteria over election-meddling threatens to reignite the Cold War.

Russia, at times, is our adversary, but it need not be our permanent enemy.

Whether it is the threat of ISIS, or the situations in Iran and Syria, it would be in our interest to work together with Russia where possible, yet this opportunity is slipping by. Obsession with Russian “collusion” or other conspiracies involving the Kremlin and the administration have frozen the narrative and hampered what I believe to be the president’s good instincts on the proper relationship with Russia.

Before I close, let me talk about the last piece of the puzzle for a strong foreign policy—our own economic strength.

Adm. Mike Mullen properly noted that the biggest threat to our national security is our debt.

A bankrupt nation does not project power, but weakness.

Our national debt now exceeds $20 trillion. Trillion dollar annual deficits have returned.

Our overseas adventures are causing us to be stretched thin, and Republicans have pushed for, and received, a massive military spending increase.

Despite Congressional hostility, I have asked the question: is our military budget too small or is our mission too big?

I believe, without question, it is the latter. Our mission has become too large. Years after completing our mission in Afghanistan, America remains—spending $50 billion a year nation-building. We are adding debt at nearly $2 million per minute.

If we’re not careful, we will spend our way into second-tier nation status quickly.

If the long war is to ever end, we must understand what must take its place.

It isn’t just religion, nor even abject poverty, that motivates those seeking a better life. It is often the simple idea of freedom that we in the west take for granted.

Mohammed Bousazizi, the Tunisian street merchant who set himself on fire and began the Arab Spring, was an aspiring entrepreneur foiled by an overbearing government.

He had a dream. He’d save for a truck, and he’d sell his wares on the streets to build a life.

Cronyism and overbearing government stifled his dream. He set himself on fire, and the flames are still burning.

My great grandfather came to America with a dream not unlike Bousazizi’s. He peddled vegetables until he saved enough to purchase a truck, to become what was then logically called a truck-farmer. Over time he was able to purchase a home, then a small bit of land.

My grandfather didn’t need a permit or a license. No government hindered his success.

Peruvian economist De Soto spoke to Bousazazi’s father and asked him if he left a legacy. He replied, “Of course, he believed even the poor had a right to buy and sell.”

To own one’s labor and the products of one’s labor is a fundamental human right.

To trade one’s labor and products is also a fundamental right.

Strangely, neocons and libertarians likely agree that government should largely leave us free to pursue our dreams. Neocons, however, feel some universal calling to liberate humanity. Libertarians want the same liberty for individuals across the globe but think that ‘spreading liberty’ through perpetual war can only occur with a big government that tramples individual liberty.

When you boil it all down, the dilemma is whether liberty spreads best by persuasion or force.

And going one step further, one must ask if the government can maintain its character as a defender of individual liberty if the government must large enough to support perpetual war.

This was the great battle fought between William F. Buckley and Murray Rothbard in the early 1960’s. Everyone thinks Buckley’s National Review won hands down. And yet, Buckley himself ended up doubting the wisdom of the Iraq War.

The schism that divides neocons and libertarian realists will heal when the neoconservatives finally acknowledge that a government big enough to “make the world safe for democracy” is inconsistent with individual liberty.

When neoconservatives accept that a government large enough to fight perpetual war requires taxes and debt so extensive as to be to inconsistent with individual liberty – then will the schism heal.

When that time comes, libertarians and neoconservatives will gather in Williamsburg and raise a pint to our common heroes: Jefferson, Paine, Madison, and yes, even John Adams. That will be a glorious time, a time when liberty is no longer divided and we can all celebrate the great American experiment in Liberty.

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

Ask D'Mine: Losing Hypo Awareness, Weight Gain with Diabetes Meds?

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/ask-dmine-losing-hypo-awareness-weight-gain-with-diabetes-meds/

Ask D'Mine: Losing Hypo Awareness, Weight Gain with Diabetes Meds?

Most of us come to expect certain things... like feeling your lows and fitting into your pants! So why do those things sometimes change? That's what we're covering in this week's diabetes advice column, Ask D'Mine, hosted by veteran type 1, diabetes author and community educator Wil Dubois.

Need help navigating life with diabetes? Email us at AskDMine@diabetesmine.com

Kayla from Nebraska, type 1, writes: I recently noticed that I am not experiencing noticeable signs of hypoglycemia. Before, when my sugar hit a low level, usually under 70, I would shake, get a warm feeling throughout my body, start sweating, and suffer light-headedness. However, now I don't feel anything. Will the warning signs ever come back? Or will I have this unawareness from now on?

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. Of course, he didn't frickin' feel it because he had hypoglycemia unawareness. Who knew Humpty was an Egg With Diabetes (EWD)? So first things first: if you've either developed, or are developing hypo unawareness, you need to test a whole lot more often or get a CGM, because you're at risk of a fall from which all the king's horses and all the king's men won't be able to put you back together again.

Hypo unawareness is just as you described: you begin to lose your ability to feel low blood sugar. The cause of hypo unawareness is the hypos themselves. The more hypos you have, the more severe they are, and the more frequently you have them; the more likely you are to burn out your ability to feel them. Hypo unawareness generally starts as a creeping lowering of when you feel your lows. People who used to feel them at 80 begin to realize they don't feel anything until they go under 70. Then it's 60. Then 50. Like diabetes itself, hypo unawareness seems to be progressive. I've been in the low 30s with no clue. I have such severe hypo unawareness that my endo insisted I include the fact on my medic alert jewelry. I've had patients who've dipped into the mid-20s with no sensation to warn them.

At some point, as hypo unawareness progresses, you don't feel your lows at all. You can go lights-out with no warning. Or no effective warning, anyway. I know one research endo who insists that there's no such thing as hypo unawareness, but that rather the detection threshold drops to the seizure threshold. In other words, you feel your hypo as you black out.

Okie-dokie. I feel soooooo much better knowing that I'm not really unaware—merely not aware in time.

No one knows why, but hypo unawareness is more common in female PWDs than in men, more common in older people than younger, and more likely among the adult onset (a.k.a. LADA) crowd. And proving once-and-for-all that no good deed goes unpunished, folks who exercise regularly are more likely to develop hypo unawareness than folks who don't exercise regularly. Is it possible that women, older people, LADA folks, and people who exercise are more likely to be control freaks on the blood sugar front, which leads them to more hypos, and thus hypo unawareness; or do these folks have some different biology going on? I don't know. I don't think it's been studied yet.

Also, there's some thought that certain medications might contribute to hypo unawareness, including beta-blockers (for high blood pressure) and the common SSRI anti-depressants.

Will your ability to feel hypos return? Maybe. Possibly. But probably not. The two most common "cures," interestingly, are the two most common cures for hang-overs, too: the hair of the dog that bit you; or a strong cup of joe.

First, to the hair of the dog. Many endos attempt to reverse the hypo unawareness by intentionally running a PWD's blood sugar above target for three-to-six months. The theory is playing the relative hypoglycemia card in reverse. Think of it this way: Let's say your house is 72 degress, but you're feeling kinda cold. You don't want to turn the thermostat up, 'cause the freaking utility bill is killing you. What do you do? Well, if it's colder outside, say 65 degrees, you could walk outside for ten or fifteen minutes. When you come back in, your house will feel warmer. It isn't. It's still 72 degrees. It only feels warmer because you've spent some time somewhere colder. Your body can adjust to "new normals" in the same way when it comes to blood sugar.

Running high for a time might reset your sensitivity. Of course, running too high could also put you into a coma, because you're a type 1. And running high for too long risks lighting the fire of complications. So it might work, but it's not something you want to try on your own. I think this is a good example of something you want to do with medical guidance. (Like those car commercials: professional driver. Do not attempt at home.).

Or you could invest in a Starbucks card instead, as at least one study has shown that caffeine may be one way to bring back your hypo symptoms. You can try this one at home. But don't get your hopes up, I'm very highly caffeinated, and I still don't feel my lows.

Michele from Texas, type 2, asks: I would like to know whether insulin causes you to gain weight. I was told that many diabetes pills cause weight gain, too. Are there any diabetic medications that do not make you gain weight?

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: You just asked the ultimate chicken or egg question. Half of the smartest diabetes docs on the planet will swear on a stack of Bibles, Korans, and Torahs that insulin absolutely causes weight gain. The other half of the smartest diabetes docs on the planet will swear on that the same stack of holy books that the insulin itself is in no way to blame for the weight gain that's seen in some people following the start of insulin therapy.

Huh?

So here's the problem. Weight gain is seen after insulin is started, a lot of the time. But not always. Some docs think the nature of the hormone causes weight gain. Others look more closely at what was going on before insulin was started. Usually crazy-high blood sugar, that's what. And crazy-high blood sugar means that glucose (and the calories it contains) is being dumped into your urine. You're literally peeing away part of the food you eat when your blood sugar is high. When you fix the blood sugar, the extra calories go into fat storage rather than being flushed down the toilet.

Many diabetes experts think this is where the weight gain comes from. If you're eating more calories than you need, and fix your high blood sugar without cutting back on the Nacho Cheese Doritos, you'll gain weight. If you are eating what your body needs, you won't gain weight. Of course if you lost a crazy-lot of weight from high blood sugar before you were diagnosed, your doc might want you to put some of it back on until you're back to a healthy weight.

As for the other part of your question, there are diabetes drugs that don't make you gain weight, and even some that help you lose weight. To cover all the bases here's a rundown on the various diabetes meds and their effects on weight:

Diabetes meds that have no effect on weight one way or the other are: the DPP-4 meds Januvia and Onglyza; the colesevelam med Welchol; and the AGI meds Glyset and Precose.

Diabetes meds that are associated with a mild increase in weight are: the sulfonylurea meds Amaryl, DiaBet, Glucotrol, Glynase, and Micronase; and the glinide class meds Prandin and Starlix.

Diabetes meds that are associated with a mild-to-moderate increase in weight are insulins in all their flavors.

Diabetes meds that are associated with a moderate increase in weight are the TZD-class meds Actos and Avandia (now pulled from general market due to heart health risks).

No diabetes med is associated with "severe" weight gain.

On the other side of the coin, diabetes drugs that are associated with a loss of weight are: the metformin class meds Fortamet, Glucophage, Glumetza, and Riomet; the injectable GLP-1 meds Byetta and Victoza; and the pramlintide class med Symlin.

Then we have the issue of polypills, or combo meds that mix two classes of meds together. For instance metformin is sometimes mixed with a sulfonylurea or a TZD. Then what? We've got one med that lowers weight and one that raises weight in the same pill! What happens in the body?

I have no frickin' idea whatsoever, and I'm not sure anyone else does either. On top of that, most PWDs take all kinds of other prescription drugs that can have an effect on weight as well. A few of the types that are well-known to cause weight gain include some anti-depressants, steroids, many anti-psychotics and bi-polar meds, and birth control pills.

If you think about it, you have to pity a depressed, bi-polar, diabetic female on steroids for Lupus, who's on birth control to avoid getting pregnant. She'd really have the cards stacked against her!

This is not a medical advice column. We are PWDs freely and openly sharing the wisdom of our collected experiences — our been-there-done-that knowledge from the trenches. But we are not MDs, RNs, NPs, PAs, CDEs, or partridges in pear trees. Bottom line: we are only a small part of your total prescription. You still need the professional advice, treatment, and care of a licensed medical professional.

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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