The Blog Formerly Known as Rozi with a Z

thoughts and ramblings, rarely updated, mostly reblogs. my health and fitblr http://rozigetsfit.tumblr.com/

[rozigetsfit]

Hi, hello, how are you?

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Let’s see, I believe my last pot was in August. So we’re looking at about 10 months without activity.

I got married. I gained about 40-50 pounds since my wedding. I turned 33. I ended my contract with my personal trainer. I somehow sprained both my ankles in a two-month period. I started seeing a new therapist. I began testosterone hormone replacement therapy. I came out as non-binary. I have spent more and more time thinking about the damage that dieting has done to my mind, body, and soul.

I don’t know what to do with this space. I miss the community I had here, and popping back on briefly reminded me of that. But the progress photos, points/calorie counting, fitspo, it all makes me feel like a failure. They are triggering, and make me want to start a juice cleanse or start restricting or just stop eating.

Maybe I’ll overhaul my tumblr again and start following IE and HAES accounts. Maybe I’ll just leave this alone.

Today is a rough day. I decided to stay home from work. My position is ending this month and while I try to find an internal position, it’s not working out great. Every other thing in my life is taking emotional priority over the thing I actually need to focus on, so my anxiety is raging, my self-love is fading, my fucking ankle is not healing, my eye is twitching, and my “hunger” is roaring.

[rozigetsfit]

Hi, hello, how are you?

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Let’s see, I believe my last pot was in August. So we’re looking at about 10 months without activity.

I got married. I gained about 40-50 pounds since my wedding. I turned 33. I ended my contract with my personal trainer. I somehow sprained both my ankles in a two-month period. I started seeing a new therapist. I began testosterone hormone replacement therapy. I came out as non-binary. I have spent more and more time thinking about the damage that dieting has done to my mind, body, and soul.

I don’t know what to do with this space. I miss the community I had here, and popping back on briefly reminded me of that. But the progress photos, points/calorie counting, fitspo, it all makes me feel like a failure. They are triggering, and make me want to start a juice cleanse or start restricting or just stop eating.

Maybe I’ll overhaul my tumblr again and start following IE and HAES accounts. Maybe I’ll just leave this alone.

Today is a rough day. I decided to stay home from work. My position is ending this month and while I try to find an internal position, it’s not working out great. Every other thing in my life is taking emotional priority over the thing I actually need to focus on, so my anxiety is raging, my self-love is fading, my fucking ankle is not healing, my eye is twitching, and my “hunger” is roaring.

[alwaysastarchild10-deactivated2]

Credit to Libby Rule

[knights-of-reylo-reborn]

oh no

[rozilovesyou]

Hi. My name is Rozi. I have generalized anxiety disorder, social anxiety, and seasonal affective disorder.

My anxiety is a functional type, which means most days I can go about my business as usual, especially when life is treating me well. Other days I struggle to go to the grocery store, complete basic chores, or fulfill my duties at work. One day, the day my best friends were getting married (to each other), I spent huddled in a closet staring at my phone, and hiding from everything around me. It was a wake-up call, and the moment I decided to speak to my doctor about it. Since then, I have taken daily medication to prevent my symptoms from interfering with my life.

Seasonal Affective Disorder has been affectionately nicknamed SAD, and is really a serious case of the winter blues. Some people get dreary after so much darkness and gray - and sometimes people simply lose the will to live. This seasonal depression can be helped with phototherapy; I use a Happy Light for at least an hour a day at work, starting when Daylight Savings ends. Vitamin D can also prevent the effects from becoming too severe. Like other forms of depression, therapy is a useful tool. Two years ago I found a therapist during an incredibly rough February. She helped me manage some of my anxiety symptoms and acted as a life coach to move me into a new direction. Unfortunately that included a new job with new insurance, which she didn’t accept.

In September this year, I found a new therapist who my insurance covered. I had started to struggle in my workplace and it was affecting the rest of my life. My anxiety symptoms were coming back and I wasn’t coping with them positively. As we started talking, they suggested that I be kind to myself and take care of myself. At the time, I was heavily invested in the idea of self-care, but took it to such an extreme. I really spoiled myself, mainly with food, reassuring myself that it was okay because I was “treating myself” and in my mind I related that to taking care of mental health. I was neglecting my physical health, even though I was still active in Weight Watchers, attending meetings and sometimes tracking my food. In October I had a much anticipated and joyful vacation to Hawaii, and returned by telling my boss that my job wasn’t a good fit and that I would be looking for another position inside the company. That was met with sadness but also acceptance, and support from my supervisor.

As the days became shorter, I continued to eat outside my suggested point range for weight loss and stopped exercising as regularly. I gained weight, but reassured myself that I would get back on track “next week.”

On January 12th I quit smoking. Two weeks later I met with my therapist for the second time of the year. I described how I’d been feeling since we had spoken last. They told me “it sounds like you’re depressed.” I thought a lot about that the next week, and gave myself fun things to do and think and look forward to. I started a new workout plan. It was February and I was going to kick this year’s butt! The following week I went into their office with optimism. I had started to take care of myself, truly, and think about what that meant for me - eating a pint of ice cream wasn’t the answer.

That was last Friday, less than a week ago. Starting Sunday, I experienced the strongest physical anxiety symptoms I’ve ever had during my work days - stomach tightness, tingling fingers and lips, perceived difficulty breathing - and it continued through Tuesday. I had the wherewithal (and a nagging suggestion from my therapist) to schedule a doctor’s appointment to reevaluate my anxiety medication. By Tuesday the depression also came back and I had such a difficult time concentrating or even caring about my work. This is a cycle I’ve been experiencing for the last month - I am not motivated to do my work, I slack off, I feel guilty about slacking off, I feel terrible and like I’m the worst employee, and but it doesn’t seem like anyone cares what I do so I should just keep slacking off, and what’s the point in even working? I get so disheartened about this cycle because I KNOW my work is beneficial, I KNOW it is helping people, in the long term it is saving people’s lives. But my heart is just not in it. The cycle got so bad on Tuesday I thought of going home early. The following day, today, I stayed home. I was scared of how I would feel again, and understood that mental health is just as important as physical health - and mine needed to be nurtured.

My sick day started off by waking at my normal time. I ate a semi-healthy breakfast and went to the gym early in the day to make up for my skipped scheduled workout from the day before. I came back to my apartment and took a long hot shower, the first in a few days. I made myself a truly healthy lunch from leftovers, and left the apartment for a quick errand. While there was much I wanted to accomplish today, I reminded myself that it is okay to rest on this day and not worry over incomplete tasks. I plan to fold some laundry and file some paperwork, but most importantly was how much I needed to write this.

Last week I thought I had “cured” myself - extra Happy Light time and vitamin d did the trick! When I felt the darkness sneaking in again, I listened and I am so glad I did. Quitting smoking, losing weight, and managing mental health have a lot in common - they’re not easy, it’s vital to have a plan, and they require constant reflection. I have spent SO MUCH time thinking about these three things lately it’s a wonder I get anything else done. But looking forward, looking within, and looking back all guide me to make healthy decisions every step of the way.

The gray had made me sad. I got rid of my favorite coping mechanism. My second favorite coping mechanism leaves me hating myself. But I have the tools, the skills, and the support to succeed every step of the way.

[bob-belcher]

[picsthatmakeyougohmm]

hmmm

[runthatonebymeagain-deactivated]

Happy Halloween

[moonskek-deactivated20251028]

By Adventures Of Finn

[9090432-deactivated20140709]

[novice-heartbreaker-deactivated]

Taking time to affirm and appreciate yourself everyday is so important.

[rozilovesyou]

Crop top game strong.

[hikergirl]

[melisica]

[bigmancave]

[the-absolute-best-memes]

[gemmaskye]

I’m number 3!!!!

[babyanimalgifs]

the best thing you will see all year

[helmsdeepwa]

A friend of mine on FB wrote this and, with their permission, told me that I could share it. I got more than a bit choked up reading it. Enjoy.

I’m 6 years old, and I’m Luke Skywalker, blowing up the Death Star in his X-Wing and using the Force… until I go outside to play Star Wars with the neighborhood kids, and I’m told I can’t be Luke because I’m a girl. I have to be Leia instead. Nothing wrong with Leia, but she’s the girl. She’s my only option, otherwise, I’m not allowed to play.

I’m 7 years old, and I’m She-Ra, with a pegasus and sword and… and no one wants to play She-Ra, because He-Man is better, stupid girl, duh. No boy wants to play a girl character. Duh. Stupid girl.

I’m 8 years old, and I’m Liono, with the Sword of Omens, telling me the future and defeating my enemies… until I can’t, because I’m a girl. I have to be Cheetara, even though I don’t like to run around really fast. She’s the girl. She’s my only option.

I’m 10 years old, and I’m a Ninja Turtle. I have these cool weapons and know martial arts… until I can’t be, because I’m a girl. I have to be April. She doesn’t get to do much, but she’s the girl. She’s my only option. If the other girl wants to play, she gets to be April, and I’m out, because she’s prettier.

I’m 14 years old, and my father yells at me again to stop being such a girl. Stop being weak. Stop being stupid. Stop being you.

I’m 17 years old, and set foot in a comic shop for the first time, only to be told girls don’t read comics. I must just be trying to impress my boyfriend. I don’t even get to ask if they had that book I read part of, with the beautiful woman who was Death, who saved a teenage boy.

I’m 24, and I’m Jean Grey, the powerful Phoenix, but turned into some weird Scarlet Witch hybrid who must die at the hands of Wolverine, because Logan just needed a little more angst.

I’m 28 and I’m Commander Shepard at the helm of the Normandy, but just having the OPTION of a female player character sends hordes of men into a blind rage, intent on stamping out any joy I might derive from this. I have to mute tons of keywords online and play in friends-only groups if I want to avoid being called a cunt for the sin of logging into multiplayer with a female avatar.

I’m 32 and I get a job running a comic shop. I tell my boss I’d like to have ladies nights. He asks, “But when is men’s night?”

I’m 33 and I’m Rey, facing down Kylo and digging deep to survive, despite being terrified. I’ve been fighting my whole life, though, and I manage to get out of it alive. I spend the next 6 months listening to every other guy who comes into my shop informing me that she’s a Mary Sue and how stupid it was to crowbar her in just for the sake of appeasing the females and pandering to feminazis.

I’m 34 and I get to be a Ghostbuster! My heart sings as I dual-wield proton guns, but when the battle’s over, I have to listen to all these guys trash it and talk about how women just aren’t funny and should stop trying.

I’m 34, and I am NOT MCU Black Widow, who categorizes herself as a monster because she can’t have children, who laughs as her male coworkers make rape jokes at the office party. I am NOT MCU Scarlet Witch, who is a problem for the men to deal with, who has to stay home and cook dinner while they take care of business, because she’s just too emotional.

Today, I’m 35, and I’m Diana of Themyscira, striding across a battlefield as everyone follows her lead. I’ve been waiting for this battle my whole life. Going into the movie, I had yet to see a single bad review, from anyone, regardless of gender. I had heard no one saying the movie was pointless or stupid or just another instance of women ruining everything. There is this tall, powerful, beautiful female hero, and no one is acting like it’s their job to tear her down. I look at the trending topics today, and everyone still loves it. The naysayers are a fringe minority. There is valid criticism, as the movie isn’t perfect. It has some problems, but overall, it’s GOOD. Finally. This is what it feels like. So yeah, I cried. I cried a lot. I’ll probably mist up a lot more times when I watch it. Everyone should get to feel like that.

[texnessa]

Read the fuck out of this of the day.

[rozilovesyou]

@pizzacultmassive makes me sweat 🍕🔮