The best meltdown

I had a meltdown. 

There.  I said it.  I melted down like a two year old at a toy store.  Yep, I had a grown folks temper tantrum and I am fine with admitting it.

Sort of. 

I pride myself on my strength.  I am extremely capable of putting out multiple fires at the same time.  I like that about ol’ Jen.  I like that I don’t get rattled very often. 

Last week, I got rattled.  Seriously rattled. 

There are two kinds of meltdowns that I have.  There is the once-a-month-nothing-is-going-right-crying-and-wanting-ice-cream meltdown that lasts about 2 days.  It’s during this time that my husband cannot say nor do anything right.  Sometimes a simple look from him will wake the meltdown beast.  It’s just how it goes.  I’m sorry that this is the way it is, but I am very grateful to have married someone that can and is willing to handle it. 

The other meltdown is what I experienced last Friday.  It was the double meltdown with extra drama and a side of who-else-can-I-bring-into-this.  Here is what happened.  If you have been reading my posts you know that I have been told a couple times (read: repeatedly, continuously, endlessly) to stay off the scale.  So, I asked Tony to hide the scale from me and under NO circumstances is he to show me where he put it.  No matter what I threaten or explain, his answer has to be a definitive “no”.   Last Friday, I said to Tony that I needed the scale.  He sternly replied “no”.  (For Tony, this is a HUGE deal!!)  My shock was apparent.  I had to throw out the big guns.  Enter the waterworks.  I cried.  Yep.  I did.  I cried because next week is the weigh in and I don’t want to be embarrassed.  I cried until he got the scale for me.  Lesson learned here is that tears are totally Tony’s kryptonite!! That is info worth filing into the memory bank!

Without hesitation and still through massive tears, I got on the scale.  I’m not going to say what was on the scale, but I was NOT happy.  And then it happened.  The mother of all meltdowns had begun.   

Step one, I cussed.  I used words that my mother would smack me for even today. 

Step 2, I “addressed” Tony for getting me the scale after I had clearly told him not to under ANY circumstances. 

Step three, I threw the scale. 

Step four, I emailed Lisa my displeasure and was willing to accept that I was just born to be fat and it was time she supported me in my crusade. 

Step five; I called the doctor to insist that there was something wrong with me.  The receptionist that I was whining to thought that I may need to talk to the nurse who promptly asked me if I needed to come in right away.  In hindsight I now believe the receptionist (and possibly the nurse) thought that I was having a psychotic break.  But whatever, I still got in to see the doctor.  Mission accomplished.

My doctor reminded me that even a small amount of weight loss was still loss.  I adore my doctor.  Seriously.  There isn’t another doctor I would rather see then him.  However, I believe wholeheartedly that he has never had a weight problem in his life.  So, really, what does he know about a small weight loss.  I have so much to lose!  How can a small amount even matter?  He listened until I think he was ready to choke me (note to self: send Dr. M a “thank you” card for not choking me) and then sent me for blood work just to make sure everything is okay.   

And finally, step 6.  The phone call from Lisa, who is training me physically but also, spends a lot of time talking me off of the ledge.  And I was on the ledge.  The first words Lisa spoke were something about staying off of the scale.  Duh!  I have learned my lesson.  (Yet, I sense that we will have this conversation multiple times in the near future as well.) The second was about me being too hard on myself.  I am a perfectionist.  I know I am.  If I know that I am not going to be the best at something, I don’t even try.  This challenge has pushed me to take part in activities that I am awful at, i.e. Zumba.  I am terrible at Zumba, but I still did it.  I actually like it. Even with knowing that rhythm is required and I have none at all.    Lisa reminded me of all of the success that I have had and how I feel so much better, which is true.  I do feel much better.   She told me that when I am not the best at an activity, that I should focus my efforts on being the best at not quitting the said activity.  I’m not the best at Yoga, but am I the best at not quitting yoga!

Forty five comforting minutes later, the meltdown had passed.   It was a 12 hour meltdown, but that’s not even close to my meltdown record.  

I’m focusing this week on being proud of my accomplishments.  I walked a 5k this weekend and had a great time!  That’s an awesome accomplishment that I should be proud of.  This time last year, I could have been facing a different fate with a 5k, perhaps as a “cause of death”.   I’m proud that I was able to finish and that I was willing to go a second time!  And, I didn’t finish first or second.  So, I wasn’t the best at it. 

However, I was the best at finishing in spot 546. 

And I was the best at not quitting!!

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3 Comments »

  1. Victoria Said:

    I love the lessons that you learned from this experience!!! This is such a great way to look at the little steps and accomplishments we are making in the right direction!!! See you soon!!!

  2. Lisa Said:

    You go, sister – and then you go again! And then you keep on going because you are TOTALLY the best at not quitting!

  3. Trevor Said:

    WOW!! I feel like i lived the same thing, well i didnt have to cry for Tony to get the scales, I just went and got on it, but was very disappointed when i did, But got thru it with help from Lisa, Aaron, and Teddy.


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