Exercise is Good Medicine

I've been trying to deal with this anxiety, OCD, depression thing for years. Therapy helps. Medication can help (but it comes with nasty side effects). Improving your diet and eating lots of good fats, vitamins, etc. help. But what helps me most of all is cardio exercise.

I was reading about all the various benefits there are to cardio exercise, and it turns out that cardio exercise is like medicine for the brain.

All week long I've been walking or doing indoor cardio in the morning. Since doing that, my brain has certainly been functioning much better. It's a huge difference. I'm more creative, more productive, more optimistic, more logical, and better able to solve problems and remember things.

Here I thought I was getting worse with my mental issues because I was gaining weight, feeling overwhelmed, couldn't control my thoughts, and dealing with the typical stresses of life. It turns out I was just lacking cardio exercise. Now whenever I feel like binge eating because I'm stressed or crying because I'm depressed or beating myself up because I'm not controlling my anxiety well enough, I'm going to grab my jump rope and do 100 jumps or get out my stepbench and march up and down it for 10 minutes, or put on my shoes and head out for a walk.

Strength training is great for building muscles, bones, connective tissues, and metabolism, but cardio is exercise for the brain.

I'll definitely be writing a Kristen's Guide article about this.

No Cure

I used to hope that "one day" I'd be free of anxiety disorders, free of OCD, and just plain ol' normal. Today though, I (with the help of my therapist) realized that I will probably always have anxiety disorders, more than the average population does. I have to think of it as a chronic lifelong disorder. I've had it since I was a little kid, and I will probably always have it. It has manifested itself in dozens of ways and it has led to depression, phobias, compulsions, and some bad decisions (like binge eating or shopping) to comfort myself. Worst of all, it can sometimes leave me incapacitated and keeps me from being the mother and wife I want to be.

I've read book after book about how to "cure your anxiety" or "stop anxiety," but those books are wrong. It isn't something that I can cure, something that will stop one day. It will always be there. For me, it's a chronic, longterm disorder. I will always have to manage it. I will always have to carefully manage my stress levels, physical health, and cognitive habits, similar to the way that a type 1 diabetic will always have to carefully manage their sugar levels, diet, and lifestyle. I can't take a day off from management without seriously screwing up my brain. I have to do it every day, forever.

It's really not such a bad thing. There are worse things in the world to deal with, so why should I complain? It's just the idea that bothers me, the idea that I can't let go like other people can. It's like my asthma. I grew up with asthma, so I couldn't do things that other kids did. I couldn't do sports. PE teachers hated me. And my sedentary lifestyle led to being overweight. I always envied the athletic kids. Eventually I learned to just accept it, to manage it.

And now it's the same thing with my stress levels. I can't be spontaneous. I have to plan as much as I can. I have to stay on a routine. And at the same time, I can't obsess about it or try to be perfect with my management efforts because that would also cause problems. I need to avoid things that might create stressful situations. That means that there are many things that I wanted to do but I can't do without risking screwing up my brain.

Oh well, it will be OK. Things always work out. Good comes from everything. And I'm sure it will be much easier than it seems.

George Carlin Dies at Age 71

This morning, I turned on Good Morning America and as they were rambling on about the economy, I saw the ticker at the bottom of the screen, "George Carlin dies at age 71 from heart failure." (Or at least it was something close to that. I mostly remember my giant gasp from that moment of my life and not so much the words I was reading.)

I first saw George Carlin during an SNL special in which they replayed his baseball vs. football routine. Wow, I thought, I wonder how it must feel to be so smart and so funny at the same time.

I then saw him in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (another cult classic in my book), and I instantly thought, wow, I wondered how it must feel like to be that cool. (I was anything but cool.)

In 1992 I came across George Carlin Jammin' in New York on HBO. I ran to my VCR, popped in a tape, and hit the record button. I watched the entire show while trying to catch my breath from laughing. I had never before seen somebody who could use such obscene language in such an articulate and intelligent way. And the things that he said... brilliant. When it was over, I hit rewind and played it again, and again, and again. I memorized the entire show. It made so much sense to me in so many ways. It was a major part of shaping my opinions about the world. (The government is filled with prick wavers (damn Republicans). George Bush, Dick Cheney, and Colon Powell suspiciously have names that when put together result in sexual innuendo. And the planet really is fine, but the people are screwed.) I've been reciting bits from that show for years.

After that, I became a Carlin fanatic. I watched all of his shows, read his books, religiously followed his interviews, and fantasized about what it would be like to have George as my friend. How cool would that be to call him up on the phone, invite him to a BBQ, and have him show up? Then I could just spend hours listening to his witty words of wisdom. (Yes, that's the kind of thing I fantasize about. No half-naked men or women in my daydreams. No million dollar yachts. Just give me some interesting people to talk to and laugh with, and I'm a happy gal.)

So unless we get to meet someday in that giant electron, I fear that my dreams of meeting George and having a witty, laughter-filled conversation with him are over. And meanwhile, the world has lost one of its most brilliant citizens.

So this morning, as I drink my soy chai tea latte, I'm making a toast to big George. Cheers man! I'll miss you.

Setting those Boundaries

I've been quite stressed out lately. Half of it is hormonal. Part of it is health related. Some of it is frustration with my weight and my ever growing to-do list. But there's also a huge part of it that is due to frustration with other people.

Lately, I've been dealing with people who try to push their responsibilities on me because they're so incredibly selfish, self-centered, and disrespectful toward everyone else. I swear such people gravitate to me, mistaking an occasional helping hand as volunteering for full-time servitude. I don't mind helping people who are in a bind (I love to help people), but I certainly am not going to be treated like an unpaid assistant, nanny, chef, or counselor.

I just say "no" to such people and go on with my life. "No, I will not wake up at 6 am to babysit your child so you can have an affair. And no, I won't do it at any other time of day either." "No, I will not put my life on hold and take over the work on your projects, your household duties, and your parenting responsibilities during the next two weeks so you can go on vacation at a moment's notice." "No, I will not give you money so you can buy drugs, and I certainly don't believe that the money is to pay for your kids whom aren't even living with you."

It's easy to say "no" to people who ask for a favor. I'm fully aware of my boundaries, and I enforce them diligently. But I'm finding that some of these people are avoiding the "no" by simply not asking at all. What do you do when they leave their hungry kids on your front porch and drive away? What do you do when they walk in your house without your knowledge of it and do who-knows-what? What do you do when they volunteer you for projects that essential to the functioning of an organization that helps people? What do you do when they open accounts in your name?

In many cases, I could easily file a police report and press charges. But in some cases, pressing charges would actually make things worse for children and other people in need.

For now, the best thing I can do is assert myself, tell them that I will not stand for their behavior, and, if necessary, cut them out of my life. I hate cutting people off, but sometimes it's the healthiest thing to do for everyone.

My Excuses for Not Working on My Websites, Not Posting to My Blogs, and Slacking on My Emails

During the last several weeks, I cut my hand and had to have stitches, broke the kitchen faucet (a $200 oops) and wasted a day trying to fix it, adopted a new cat, worked on training the new cat, invested in a super soaker to squirt my cats whenever they start fighting, watched my daughter graduate from kindergarten, had an OCD breakdown, started a new OCD therapy session, took a "break" from my weight loss efforts (back to focusing on maintenance) and beat myself up every day for it, cared for sick kids, got sick myself, got better, tried out a new fancy-schmancy restaurant, bought a new bike (yay, it's bike season again), watched my husband teach my daughter to ride a two-wheeler, went camping, took the family to see a bunch of cannons fired (Memorial Day) at a WWII fort, took the kids to buy Father's Day gifts, cleaned the house, watched the house get messed up again within moments of the cleaning (repeat, repeat, repeat, debate letting my kids grow up in a messy house), took on some new website design customers, signed up for a new volunteer position, and contemplated the meaning of life... again

I'm pooped!

As soon as I recharge from dealing with the real world, I'll start being more cyber-productive again, I'm sure.