There were a million things I thought about writing about tonight. There is a lot going on in my world. A lot of annoyances I want to vent about. A lot of stressful situations. A lot of pending changes and unknown outcomes. But instead, I am going to write about gratitude.
Every night as my kids and I sit down at the dinner table, it is my time to connect with them. We eat together, laugh together, talk about our days. After we are finished we clean up together, put things away and enjoy the comforts of our new to us, little, old house. By far, this is my most favorite part of everyday and I feel safe to say, for them as well. We have began a tradition of going around the table asking each one of us the worst part of the day, the best part of the day & something we are each grateful for. In fact, the kids LOVE this. Mr. Personality Keegan is self appointed moderator and it honestly makes us all giggle as he goes from person to person asking us each the "interview" questions and using his index finger & thumb to point to the next interviewee. (Future Dr. Phil on my hands, proud mom ;)
I challenge the kids and myself to come up with something new each night that we haven't mentioned before. We even ask any guests that may be with us to join in to our tradition. It gives us each a chance to kind of reflect on our day and to truly take a moment to pause and appreciate. I have noticed a change in attitude that has now occurred. In fact, there have been several nights where each of us cannot even come up with a "worst part" of our day. Some of my favorite responses to the "best part" question:
~Walking home from school and enjoying the fresh air. (Jayden)
~School because my new teacher tells me I am so smart!
(Dr. Phil...err...I mean Keegan)
~Right now because I really like my family. (Jayden)
~Riding the bus because I do it all by myself (Jensyn)
Favorite responses to the thankful question, which I have began making a list of on the refrigerator in case any of us needs a reminder during the day:
~Our house...because its just ours. (Jensyn)
~My school because I "yove" my teachers. (Keegan)
~Mom. Because, she works really hard and is always tired, but still loves us & makes us laugh all the time. (Jayden, *tear*)
~Ramen noodles, because I don't like mashed potatoes. (Keegan)
~The Big Guy, because he doesn't have to be here, doing this, loving us, but he is. (me)
So, right now, even though there are so many things going on in my life that make me feel powerless, because I cannot (gasp) control them, I need to take a page out of my parenting instruction manual. I am instilling, or at least trying to, in my children to never forget to think about the things we have, the goodness in our lives. I am extremely lucky in so many ways. I have my health. I have 3 incredible, beautiful, smart, loving, funny, healthy kids who make me put things into perspective on a daily basis. I have a sexy, funny, loving, hard-working, incredible boyfriend who reminds me everyday about the good in this world. I have a HOME. I have this place to exist. This place where my children and I can truly, finally live in peace, happiness and fill it with love and laughter. I have a sister who is my best friend and who has given birth to incredible little people who squeal when they call me "auntie." I have a job that I enjoy and has introduced me to some pretty terrific co-workers and has allowed me to, for the first time in my life, become independent. I have furniture to sit on, food to fill our bellies. I have confidence in my intellect. I have access to the bistro at my hotel that is a certified Starbucks brewer which means I have now perfected the art of making the perfect iced skinny caramel macchiato!
It is these things, that in the months ahead, when the scary trials happen, and the anxiety is high, that I am going to remember and draw strength from. As much as I miss my old life, and crave the friendships I found so rewarding, I now know I can find happiness anywhere. It doesn't matter what zip code. I am strong. I am smart. I am lovable. I am able. I am going to get through hardships and after each hurdle, realize I am so much more capable than I ever dared imagine. In fact, we all are...we just have to figure it out for ourselves and look at that list on the refrigerator every now and then to realize it...
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Friday, February 14, 2014
I Don't Want Roses...
I don't want jewelry. I don't want candies, two dozen roses or extravagant gestures that profess your love for me. I don't want a man that pretends to be who I want/deserve, 1 day a year while being a reluctant participant in our lives the other 364 with the occasional glimpse of hope thrown in there. I don't want balloons or fancy dinners. I want real. What is real you ask? Real is a man, who knowingly took on a girl (me) with such a complicated, messy, broken past, because he saw beyond it all and loved her (me) for who I used to be, who I can one day become again. Real is being accepted just as I am, imperfections and all. Real is him, not wanting me to change the things that make me, me. Even the annoying traits, the things that drive him crazy. Real is knowing that not only did that man take on the broken girl, but he took on 3 opinionated, sometimes sassy, too smart for their own good, loud, rambunctious, yet incredible kids. Real is having him WANT to be a part of the everyday monotony. Helping me juggle, helping with homework, guitar lessons, teach respect, carpool. Real is the man who gets excited at the idea of "family" Valentine's Day. No romantic just the two of us stuff. But making heart pizzas, pink cupcakes, playing games & maybe if I'm lucky forcing him to watch one of my favorite chick flicks he's never seen after the youngen's get to bed...(Hope Floats anyone?) Real is being the first thought that crosses his mind in the morning as he sends his "Good Morning Beautiful" text & the last thought each night as he tells me to drive safely to work. Real is having this man in our lives who didn't have to be. Real is having him not try to replace anyone, but just bring a new goodness, excitement into our lives. Real is sharing our dreams and hopes, frustrations and problems with him. Real is working through issues without fighting, without raising our voices (mostly). Real is having your oldest kids tell you they like how we fight because it is always done with laughter, sarcasm, and most of all, respect. Real is happiness. Real is sincerity. Real is adoring this human being and dreaming of the day we can be together as a "family" under one roof and working at attaining some of those dreams we have created together. Real is not caring about Valentine's Day, but focusing on the day after, the week after, the month after....Real is visualizing a future built on trust, honesty, humor, admiration, loyalty...valuing and vowing to not lose sight of these things.
Real is love 365.
Real is love 365.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Is knowledge power? Or is ignorance bliss?
Would you rather not know? Would you rather bury your head in the sand and live in a state of ignorance? Is ignorance really bliss? If there were a secret, something life altering, huge...and knowing would cause you and many others pain, would you still want to know? Is knowledge power? When you have the knowledge, is it your job to tell others, to warn, inform? Those who are or could be directly affected by this "secret"? Do you protect those who can't protect themselves at all costs? Is it worth being viewed as the 'villain'? To have your motives questioned? Your character drug through the mud? This is something I have struggled with for many months now. A while back, some very important, sad, heartbreaking information literally fell into my lap. What should I have done? Should I have kept it a secret like so many others in the past had? Should I have thought about myself and not others? Should I have blown the whistle immediately? Should I have given the person the "benefit of the doubt?" And believed they had changed, were no longer capable of the unthinkable? Should I have been a coward and brushed it under the rug because I was afraid of the consequences? Afraid of the backlash that would surely happen? Should I have gone against my gut to make others happy? Others, that in my lowest moments, greatest times of need, turned their backs on me and lied, spread falsities and tried to hurt me and my little humans?
These, along with hundreds of other questions are what has been running through my mind nonstop, keeping me awake replaying scenarios in my head like a broken record for the past several months. I tried to go against my core, my DNA and remain quiet. Tried, begged at points even, for the others with the same knowledge to step forward and pull the alarm. Others who would have not been met with hostility. Others who would have been viewed as coming from a pure place. But like so many times before, those others, failed to do so. The time came, the alarm had to be pulled. I was already the evil one in their eyes, so what does it matter to add one more accusation to my record.
So I did it, I rang the alarm. And like history has a habit of doing, it repeated itself. I am once again the hated one. Once again the evil one who only sets out to cause pain and drama. Is this accurate? Hell no! Do I wish someone had the balls to step up a LONG time ago and put forth the information? Absolutely. Where was that village that was supposed to protect the young? Where were those people who are supposed to go to the ends of the earth to keep the innocent safe? Where in the hell has the moral compass gone in so many people who consider themselves to be "God fearing" and "Satan hating"? Why does time and time again the ball get dropped? Why don't people have courage to do what is right and take the selfishness out of the equation. Why can't we not put ourselves, our selfish desires, needs, last for a moment and think about the bigger picture?
Do I regret blowing the whistle? NO! Am I sad at the backlash that has occurred and will continue to? Sure. Am I surprised? Honestly no. I have learned over the past several months to deal with disappointment really well. I am a Momma Bear. Not just to my cubs, but to other cubs who deserve to be protected. If no one else is willing to step forward to distribute truth and knowledge about a certain situation, being hated is a small price to pay to ensure their safety.
To those who ignore, bury your heads and point fingers at those of us who do not, look in the mirror and for a brief second try to not be selfish and think about the impact your lack of actions may have on others. To those of you who attack and lash out against the whistle blowers, shame on you. You should take a moment to look in that very same mirror and maybe be grateful there are people out there who love your cubs enough to take the bullet.
And finally, to those of you brave enough to open your mouth and face the firing squad bravo. The loneliness and sadness you will experience while heartbreaking, ultimately helps you grow a thicker, sturdier skin. I respect myself because I know the root of my actions has come from a pure, well thought out place. I do not regret having the guts to say it out loud. And really, the circle of those supporters around you, while may have dwindled in size, those last remaining are the ones you can truly call "friends." The others that drift away, while at one point served a purpose, now serve as a reminder of not allowing yourself to be too vulnerable, to ignore the right thing to do and to not go against your innate morality and do what is right. I know my intentions. This circle of true friends, family, loves, knows my intentions. And in the end of the day, when I rest my head on my pillow, that is all it takes to allow my restful slumber.
Thank you to those who have stood by me and continue to do so. I love you. And those in Utah, I will see you soon! :-)
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Good Riddance!!
Dear 2013,
To say it nicely, you can kiss my ASS. You started off with a BANG! I passed out twice New Years Day from what I later found out was an abnormality with my heart. This should have been the perfect warning to what a totally hellish year you were going to turn out to be. By Valentines Day, the roller coaster was already coming off of the track. My marriage was about to collapse and spiral completely off track. Looking back, March & April were pretty much the definition of bipolar. There were some really amazing moments with him. But, there were so many really terrible, horrible, no good very bad days. The fighting, hurting, name calling...just got to be too much. May brought a break, trip to visit my family. A postcard, with a return address. I'd be back to Utah in a few weeks time, to fix what was cracked.
June 2 came...the cracks shattered. What was once somewhat repairable, became a million little pieces of broken promises, broken dreams, broken futures, broken lives. By the end of the month, I had spiraled deeper than I ever thought possible. My heart condition worsened. I lost quite a bit of weight, I could not physically eat. I was sad, relied on unhealthy means to get me through the darkest, saddest, scariest days of my life.
July brought the tough conversations with the kids. The revelations that we would not be returning to Utah, to our home, our friends, our lives...ever. The tears that occurred this month were enough to last a lifetime. Even reflecting on them now, has created tear stained cheeks. The 19th, my favorite day of the year, the day I was born, normally the happiest day of the 365, brought the lowest, saddest, most intense pain and betrayal I believe I can ever experience. At my home, on my day...to see him, and her, my "friend"...to have my suspicions confirmed. Never, felt lower. The drive back to SC, a place I never imagined returning to on a permanent basis, was BRUTAL. The sadness was all encompassing. My heart hurt. My brain hurt. My feelings hurt. My soul, was crushed.
August, stayed busy, stayed numb. School started, it was confirmed that my children are geniuses. Their fears over the new began to dissipate. They started making friends. Started activities. Smiles began happening, laughter started to echo. I saw what a short time ago were gaping open wounds, start to scab over a little. Football games, birthday parties, family outings...what was happening here? A sense of...a new, normal?
September. Things start falling into a routine. I begin to look for work. Get closure with some friends I sorely miss. Begin to plan, budget. I decide on one Monday afternoon, I am going to fake it until I make it. If I let the world think I am fine, maybe I will begin to believe it to. Appointment made to get my new beginning dove tattoo. "Every breath is a second chance..." That very week, Friday, at a football game with my kids. I get a FB message from a guy I went to school with. Chatting begins. "How are you?" "What are you up to?" "You look great." "My life has fallen apart. Really? Mine too!" An entire night of chatting. He makes me laugh. He asks me out on what I then considered to be a pity date. I tell him no, he doesn't need to feel obligated to take the broken girl on a date. He insists. I reluctantly accept.
September 21st, starts off with getting my tattoo. I love it. Rush home, get ready. He picks me up. He smells great. Within 90 seconds, the attraction is intense. The laughter doesn't cease. Dinner. Walk downtown. Starbucks. Driving around for hours. First kiss on the beach. He says "I don't want this date to end." I say, "I feel the same." He takes me home. Asks to spend the following day with me too. Movie, shopping, food, songs that will eventually become "ours" on the radio. I like him, but I am scared too. I am still broken. Still raw. Still certain I am unlovable. The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Cannot believe this has happened. I wasn't looking for a man. He can't be as wonderful as my head/heart tells me is...can he?
October brings hope. As the season changes, so does my perspective, a little. Dare I say it, but I allow myself to fall. Fall hard, fall deep, fall completely. I am in 100% in love. My future looks bright, there's hope, there is a tomorrow again... November continues to renew my faith in love. My faith in myself. I am trying so hard to forgive myself for the mistakes of my past. I am trying to do what the big guy is teaching me. Stop beating myself up over my mistakes. Stop holding on to the anger, bitterness, hostility and realize...that had we each not walked the path we have walked. Been hurt by the decisions of others who did not care about the impact it would have on us...our paths would not have lead to where we both are. Here. Together. In each other's tender embrace. I try. Some days I succeed more than others. I get a full-time job. Me working nights brings a new challenge. Trying to fit in time to be alone. I am tired. I am trying. It continues to amaze me...how much I love this boy. My kids love this boy. He loves us. He has given himself whole heartedly to my little family. He has bonded individually with each of my kids. Without me even suggesting. Takes my big boy to the battleship museum. Takes the diva to a birthday party. Little man loves to wrestle with him, makes fun of his "girlie" truck. We have made so many memories. Christmas village outings. Lights. Fire museums. Shopping. Movie nights...on & on & on. It is all so effortless. He doesn't act "forced" into being a part of our lives. It is such a change. Such a nice, welcome, wonderful change.
So now this takes me to 12-31-13. I am sitting here reflecting, questioning how the hell did I make it through? To think of the complete 180 my life has done in 365 days. 8,760 hours....but a LIFETIME of upheavals. I am actually content, satisfied with where my life is at this exact moment in time. I am in love. My kids are amazing, our bonds have strengthened. Although working nights kicks my butt, I love my job. I am so enjoying my independence. I completed 8 5Ks this year. Last year, I couldn't have dreamed of doing 1. I am realizing that fate isn't in charge of my destiny, I am. There are dreams I have had, things I want to do, goals I want to accomplish that I never thought I could because I didn't believe in myself and was married to the glass half empty guy. I love making my own money. I love kowing how much I have and whether or not I have the money to take my kids bowling. Or to buy little man the new light up shoes he wants. Making, spending my OWN money is so incredibly freeing. Not having to ask if it was ok for me to spend $5 on tampons. Or $10 at McDonalds. This is my favorite past of being single. I never knew how good being in my own damn driver's seat could feel.
So...2014...I have MAJOR hopes that you will KICK ASS. My hopes for you:
1) That really soon my damn divorce will FINALLY be FINALIZED. I hate having that nagging knowledge that legally I am still a MRS. to a person I have no respect for and whom doesn't deserve to say my name, let alone be legally called my husband. Ewwww
2) I get my own place to live. Funny how your standards, desires change with your situation. A year ago I dreamt of the "bigger, better, fancier" house. Now I just want and address that only receives mail addressed to me and my little humans.
3) Become more successful in all aspects of life. As a mother. As a companion. As an employee. As a friend. As a sister. As a student. As a contributing member of society.
4) Learn to love me like my boy loves me. Learn to look in the mirror and appreciate all that is right. All that is healthy and wonderful. not dwell on this blemish or that imperfection. Learn to see myself through the eyes of those who truly, love me. Not because they are forced or obligated, but because they frankly, think I rock.
5) Continue on the path of health. Run many more races. Set physical goals and accomplish them.
6) Save a little money and treat myself to a nice little vacation simply because, for all that is holy, I deserve it.
7) Stand up for myself against any and all bullies in the world. Be a voice for those who have not yet found their voice.
8) Fully kick HEATHER 5.0 into turbo gear. Love hard. Be loyal to the few that proved loyalty to me in my time of need. And not worry myself with the petty, uninformed words of others.
9) LOVE ME.
Hasta la vista you ugly evil, horrid, bitch of a year 2013. HOLA 2014!!!!~~
To say it nicely, you can kiss my ASS. You started off with a BANG! I passed out twice New Years Day from what I later found out was an abnormality with my heart. This should have been the perfect warning to what a totally hellish year you were going to turn out to be. By Valentines Day, the roller coaster was already coming off of the track. My marriage was about to collapse and spiral completely off track. Looking back, March & April were pretty much the definition of bipolar. There were some really amazing moments with him. But, there were so many really terrible, horrible, no good very bad days. The fighting, hurting, name calling...just got to be too much. May brought a break, trip to visit my family. A postcard, with a return address. I'd be back to Utah in a few weeks time, to fix what was cracked.
June 2 came...the cracks shattered. What was once somewhat repairable, became a million little pieces of broken promises, broken dreams, broken futures, broken lives. By the end of the month, I had spiraled deeper than I ever thought possible. My heart condition worsened. I lost quite a bit of weight, I could not physically eat. I was sad, relied on unhealthy means to get me through the darkest, saddest, scariest days of my life.
July brought the tough conversations with the kids. The revelations that we would not be returning to Utah, to our home, our friends, our lives...ever. The tears that occurred this month were enough to last a lifetime. Even reflecting on them now, has created tear stained cheeks. The 19th, my favorite day of the year, the day I was born, normally the happiest day of the 365, brought the lowest, saddest, most intense pain and betrayal I believe I can ever experience. At my home, on my day...to see him, and her, my "friend"...to have my suspicions confirmed. Never, felt lower. The drive back to SC, a place I never imagined returning to on a permanent basis, was BRUTAL. The sadness was all encompassing. My heart hurt. My brain hurt. My feelings hurt. My soul, was crushed.
August, stayed busy, stayed numb. School started, it was confirmed that my children are geniuses. Their fears over the new began to dissipate. They started making friends. Started activities. Smiles began happening, laughter started to echo. I saw what a short time ago were gaping open wounds, start to scab over a little. Football games, birthday parties, family outings...what was happening here? A sense of...a new, normal?
September. Things start falling into a routine. I begin to look for work. Get closure with some friends I sorely miss. Begin to plan, budget. I decide on one Monday afternoon, I am going to fake it until I make it. If I let the world think I am fine, maybe I will begin to believe it to. Appointment made to get my new beginning dove tattoo. "Every breath is a second chance..." That very week, Friday, at a football game with my kids. I get a FB message from a guy I went to school with. Chatting begins. "How are you?" "What are you up to?" "You look great." "My life has fallen apart. Really? Mine too!" An entire night of chatting. He makes me laugh. He asks me out on what I then considered to be a pity date. I tell him no, he doesn't need to feel obligated to take the broken girl on a date. He insists. I reluctantly accept.
September 21st, starts off with getting my tattoo. I love it. Rush home, get ready. He picks me up. He smells great. Within 90 seconds, the attraction is intense. The laughter doesn't cease. Dinner. Walk downtown. Starbucks. Driving around for hours. First kiss on the beach. He says "I don't want this date to end." I say, "I feel the same." He takes me home. Asks to spend the following day with me too. Movie, shopping, food, songs that will eventually become "ours" on the radio. I like him, but I am scared too. I am still broken. Still raw. Still certain I am unlovable. The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Cannot believe this has happened. I wasn't looking for a man. He can't be as wonderful as my head/heart tells me is...can he?
October brings hope. As the season changes, so does my perspective, a little. Dare I say it, but I allow myself to fall. Fall hard, fall deep, fall completely. I am in 100% in love. My future looks bright, there's hope, there is a tomorrow again... November continues to renew my faith in love. My faith in myself. I am trying so hard to forgive myself for the mistakes of my past. I am trying to do what the big guy is teaching me. Stop beating myself up over my mistakes. Stop holding on to the anger, bitterness, hostility and realize...that had we each not walked the path we have walked. Been hurt by the decisions of others who did not care about the impact it would have on us...our paths would not have lead to where we both are. Here. Together. In each other's tender embrace. I try. Some days I succeed more than others. I get a full-time job. Me working nights brings a new challenge. Trying to fit in time to be alone. I am tired. I am trying. It continues to amaze me...how much I love this boy. My kids love this boy. He loves us. He has given himself whole heartedly to my little family. He has bonded individually with each of my kids. Without me even suggesting. Takes my big boy to the battleship museum. Takes the diva to a birthday party. Little man loves to wrestle with him, makes fun of his "girlie" truck. We have made so many memories. Christmas village outings. Lights. Fire museums. Shopping. Movie nights...on & on & on. It is all so effortless. He doesn't act "forced" into being a part of our lives. It is such a change. Such a nice, welcome, wonderful change.
So now this takes me to 12-31-13. I am sitting here reflecting, questioning how the hell did I make it through? To think of the complete 180 my life has done in 365 days. 8,760 hours....but a LIFETIME of upheavals. I am actually content, satisfied with where my life is at this exact moment in time. I am in love. My kids are amazing, our bonds have strengthened. Although working nights kicks my butt, I love my job. I am so enjoying my independence. I completed 8 5Ks this year. Last year, I couldn't have dreamed of doing 1. I am realizing that fate isn't in charge of my destiny, I am. There are dreams I have had, things I want to do, goals I want to accomplish that I never thought I could because I didn't believe in myself and was married to the glass half empty guy. I love making my own money. I love kowing how much I have and whether or not I have the money to take my kids bowling. Or to buy little man the new light up shoes he wants. Making, spending my OWN money is so incredibly freeing. Not having to ask if it was ok for me to spend $5 on tampons. Or $10 at McDonalds. This is my favorite past of being single. I never knew how good being in my own damn driver's seat could feel.
So...2014...I have MAJOR hopes that you will KICK ASS. My hopes for you:
1) That really soon my damn divorce will FINALLY be FINALIZED. I hate having that nagging knowledge that legally I am still a MRS. to a person I have no respect for and whom doesn't deserve to say my name, let alone be legally called my husband. Ewwww
2) I get my own place to live. Funny how your standards, desires change with your situation. A year ago I dreamt of the "bigger, better, fancier" house. Now I just want and address that only receives mail addressed to me and my little humans.
3) Become more successful in all aspects of life. As a mother. As a companion. As an employee. As a friend. As a sister. As a student. As a contributing member of society.
4) Learn to love me like my boy loves me. Learn to look in the mirror and appreciate all that is right. All that is healthy and wonderful. not dwell on this blemish or that imperfection. Learn to see myself through the eyes of those who truly, love me. Not because they are forced or obligated, but because they frankly, think I rock.
5) Continue on the path of health. Run many more races. Set physical goals and accomplish them.
6) Save a little money and treat myself to a nice little vacation simply because, for all that is holy, I deserve it.
7) Stand up for myself against any and all bullies in the world. Be a voice for those who have not yet found their voice.
8) Fully kick HEATHER 5.0 into turbo gear. Love hard. Be loyal to the few that proved loyalty to me in my time of need. And not worry myself with the petty, uninformed words of others.
9) LOVE ME.
Hasta la vista you ugly evil, horrid, bitch of a year 2013. HOLA 2014!!!!~~
Friday, December 6, 2013
Retrospection
Today is a day of retrospection for me. As of late, I have been trying really hard to get closure on certain things. To try and figure out a way to let go of the anger, to let go of the resentment, to let go of the past...
How do I do this? I am a confrontational person. Some people may think that is a bad thing, I however disagree. I am a confrontational person when necessary. I firmly believe a lot gets accomplished when things just get laid out on the table. I do not "sweep things under the rug" so to speak. I try to apply this to all aspects of my life. Whether it is professionally, in relationships, friendships...but what happens when confrontation is not an option? What do you do when the one person you really want to speak to, to look in the eye and explain your feelings, your hurt, your anger...isn't available or chooses not to respond to your requests? How then am I left to heal? Many of you may think I am referring to my ex, let me make it clear, I am not. We have had some rather productive conversations lately. And while there is still a lot of deep seeded issues there, having the opportunity to be heard and just getting things off my chest, has helped.
I am in a happy place as far as my present state. My job is great. My kids are amazing, my guy is a Godsend. But why does the past haunt me? How do I heal these wounds? How do I get over the feeling of being deceived, wronged? How do I find closure in a different way than confrontation?
I love my guy. Part of me knows that without us both having gone through what we have been through in the past, we wouldn't be where we are today. We wouldn't be with each other, wouldn't be the people we are. The appreciation for one another wouldn't be so massive, the passion wouldn't be so intense. But it doesn't make swallowing the past hurts any easier. Why is it that we have to experience pain and hurt before we can appreciate the happy and joy? The country song by Rascal Flatts has come to thought so much for me lately:
"I set on a narrow way, many years ago
Hoping I would find true love, along a broken road.
But I got lost a time or two, wiped my brow kept pushing through,
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you.
That every long lost dream led me to where we are, others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way, into your loving arms. This much I know is true, God blessed the broken road that let me straight to you..."
I so agree. The man I am with, feels so right, so perfect. When he holds me, it feels like his arms were truly made to be my place to fall. Our love is effortless. I don't have to try to impress him. I don't have to try to be good enough. I don't care that he sees me with no makeup, bed hair, in sweats. I am not afraid that when I am grumpy and ornery he isn't going to love me anymore. I cannot believe I am about to say this...because a few very short months ago I was convinced it wasn't true in any sense...but when I am with this man...I feel GOOD ENOUGH. When he tells me he loves me, that I am beautiful, the look in his eyes makes me know he is not just saying it because he feels obligated to...he is saying it because he honestly means it...
so again...it brings me back to retrospection. If I am this happy...and it took me going through what I went through, and him going through what he went through...why oh why can I not just accept the past and move on? Why do I feel the need to be heard...to have my moment to look that person in the eye and just say "You hurt me"...why? I once read a quote that really resonated with me:
"The reason people find it so hard to be happy is because they see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is and the future less resolved than it will be."
Is this accurate? Do I need closure? Or is there a way to move on and get my happy on? Is there a way to just allow myself to love him without worry that he will break my heart. Is there a way to trust my judgement enough? Can I truly have found my knight in shining armor so soon after my life crumbled into a million pieces? Is it fair for me to accept his help and rely on him to help me glue those tiny shattered pieces back together? Is it acceptable to be ecstatic about our future? To imagine how adorable our little ginger haired child will be? Am I ok to love without fear? Can I accept the past without allowing it riddle my future with fears? Can I be retrospective and cautious without being scared to live my truth?
Can I be me, all of me?
How do I do this? I am a confrontational person. Some people may think that is a bad thing, I however disagree. I am a confrontational person when necessary. I firmly believe a lot gets accomplished when things just get laid out on the table. I do not "sweep things under the rug" so to speak. I try to apply this to all aspects of my life. Whether it is professionally, in relationships, friendships...but what happens when confrontation is not an option? What do you do when the one person you really want to speak to, to look in the eye and explain your feelings, your hurt, your anger...isn't available or chooses not to respond to your requests? How then am I left to heal? Many of you may think I am referring to my ex, let me make it clear, I am not. We have had some rather productive conversations lately. And while there is still a lot of deep seeded issues there, having the opportunity to be heard and just getting things off my chest, has helped.
I am in a happy place as far as my present state. My job is great. My kids are amazing, my guy is a Godsend. But why does the past haunt me? How do I heal these wounds? How do I get over the feeling of being deceived, wronged? How do I find closure in a different way than confrontation?
I love my guy. Part of me knows that without us both having gone through what we have been through in the past, we wouldn't be where we are today. We wouldn't be with each other, wouldn't be the people we are. The appreciation for one another wouldn't be so massive, the passion wouldn't be so intense. But it doesn't make swallowing the past hurts any easier. Why is it that we have to experience pain and hurt before we can appreciate the happy and joy? The country song by Rascal Flatts has come to thought so much for me lately:
"I set on a narrow way, many years ago
Hoping I would find true love, along a broken road.
But I got lost a time or two, wiped my brow kept pushing through,
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you.
That every long lost dream led me to where we are, others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way, into your loving arms. This much I know is true, God blessed the broken road that let me straight to you..."
I so agree. The man I am with, feels so right, so perfect. When he holds me, it feels like his arms were truly made to be my place to fall. Our love is effortless. I don't have to try to impress him. I don't have to try to be good enough. I don't care that he sees me with no makeup, bed hair, in sweats. I am not afraid that when I am grumpy and ornery he isn't going to love me anymore. I cannot believe I am about to say this...because a few very short months ago I was convinced it wasn't true in any sense...but when I am with this man...I feel GOOD ENOUGH. When he tells me he loves me, that I am beautiful, the look in his eyes makes me know he is not just saying it because he feels obligated to...he is saying it because he honestly means it...
so again...it brings me back to retrospection. If I am this happy...and it took me going through what I went through, and him going through what he went through...why oh why can I not just accept the past and move on? Why do I feel the need to be heard...to have my moment to look that person in the eye and just say "You hurt me"...why? I once read a quote that really resonated with me:
"The reason people find it so hard to be happy is because they see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is and the future less resolved than it will be."
Is this accurate? Do I need closure? Or is there a way to move on and get my happy on? Is there a way to just allow myself to love him without worry that he will break my heart. Is there a way to trust my judgement enough? Can I truly have found my knight in shining armor so soon after my life crumbled into a million pieces? Is it fair for me to accept his help and rely on him to help me glue those tiny shattered pieces back together? Is it acceptable to be ecstatic about our future? To imagine how adorable our little ginger haired child will be? Am I ok to love without fear? Can I accept the past without allowing it riddle my future with fears? Can I be retrospective and cautious without being scared to live my truth?
Can I be me, all of me?
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Annoyed Juggler
Annoyance...
That is the emotion of the day, of the month it seems. I am annoyed!
I am annoyed at life.
I am annoyed at people who make me angry.
I am annoyed at toxic waste of space creatures.
But mostly I am annoyed at...
myself.
Why you ask? Why am I so annoyed at myself?
Because I have allowed myself to lose track of my goal! I have allowed myself to become so distracted with my life that I have let important goals and dreams slip away.
I have become such a juggler, yet I forgot to throw one ball in the air to juggle...
Ball 1,2,3...my kids. Being a single mom really took some adjustment. To be able to devote the amount of time and attention that I think each child deserves is freaking hard! After some bumps in the road and through trial and error, I figured it out...to some extent.
Ball 4...my new status as a full-time tax payer. Not only do I work 40/hrs a week, the hours are kicking my arse! I work from 11pm-7am. I like the job, my co-workers. But the drawbacks are the hours I spend completely alone and the fact that I have not yet been able to figure out a sleep schedule! I am sleep deprived big time. But I feel so guilty when I sleep during the day. Even though it is obviously necessary the fact that my sleeping takes away from my kids...is really hard for me.
Ball 5...my friend. I would say friends, but truth be told...I only have one actual friend here in SC, and she has expressed to me that she is bothered I haven't made time for her lately. I want nothing more, because she is one of my favorite people on the planet, but I am indeed having trouble figuring out how to keep that ball in the air. I feel like any attempts I make are not enough...so this is definitely a ball I need some work on keeping in the air.
Ball 6...my new relationship. This ball brings me so much joy, so much laughter, so much hope and renewed faith in myself. This ball is fun to juggle, but like all things in life...it takes a lot of work. The emotions that come with falling in love. The sadness that comes with disagreements. The dance of trying to mesh lives, maintain independence all while trying to find an identity as a couple...it is very trying and tiring at times. Learning each others weaknesses, strengths, annoyances, quirks. Each one of us trying to mend the other's very tattered, bruised, cracked hearts. Trying to convince him that he is amazing, incredible...and worth so much more than anyone in his life has ever made him feel...yea...it is a lot of work, quite stressful and frustrating at times...but ultimately...so freaking rewarding and worth it!
So that's where the juggling has been...what's missing...what is Ball #7?? Yea...ME! Where is the Heather that was motivated to be fit. Determined to be amazing. Convinced she could compete in triathalons if she desired...where is that ball?? I recently discovered, that ball has been hiding in the dusty corner of my converted garage room at my parents house where I live...It's there...covered in dust particles, right next to my tennis shoes and spandex running pants. It is a little bit of a bigger ball than it was 6 months ago...a little rounder...but I found the freaking ball! I need to find some motivation to make that ball pretty...shiny, fit. I need to figure out how, with all of the other important balls that are being juggled, to throw one more in the mix. I admit, I have worked out still, just very inconsistently. I am doing another 5K in 2 weeks. Majority of the days I am still doing ok on my diet. I haven't resorted back to the majority of my comfort foods...but yes...there is A LOT of room for improvement! This ball is going to somehow get back in the mix...just gotta remind myself...that the Heather ball is important too....I've come too far to let this one slip away...
After all...I am Heather 5.0, right??
Friday, August 9, 2013
This Girl is on FIRE
So, my oh my what the difference a summer can make. By now, it is no secret. The world knows I am getting divorced. Much of the world knows much too much of the drama surrounding this pending separation of lives. I have relocated myself & my kids back home to the land of humidity ridden hair, cheesy grits & bugs the size of bagels...good old South Carolina.
While I am not interested in going in to detail about the decision to divorce, the shocking behavior that has followed, what I am interested in tackling...strength.
OK, so I have never considered myself a weak person, but until recently, the word weak to me meant physical strength...I never really took the time to think about the emotional side of this. Emotionally...was I strong? Weak? Hmm...I don't know what I used to be, but I can tell you today...I feel strong(er). Today I feel more empowered, more courageous, more prepared. I have done things, accomplished things, made decisions that 2 months ago TERRIFIED me. I have cried a lot. I have doubted myself every step of the way. I continue to doubt my ability, to wonder that when these wings spread, can I truly fly? Can the fears I have be squashed by the power I now possess? I have seen glimpses, however small and brief, of this freaking powerful, bold, strong phoenix-like woman. This person, who is setting goals, accomplishing them, making shit happen! This woman who is truly, honestly beginning to dream big! Who is unphased by the naysayers. Who has learned to use insults as fuel to her fire!
Call me fat, I will run faster, burn more calories.
Call me a bitch, I will smile & laugh at your immaturity.
Tell me I'm greedy, I will work harder, making an amazing productive HAPPY life for my family of 4.
Tell me I'm your biggest mistake, I will squeeze my babies a little tighter at bedtime & thank God I got the best parts of you.
I am learning that the way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time. Not to get overwhelmed at its enormity. I am learning, slowly, sometimes after many failed attempts, that this is true. I set small goals for myself. And at the time they seem so insignificant and like they don't make a difference. But now, after all of these tiny things begin to turn into something bigger, something of an accomplishment, I am proud of myself for doing what I have done. For trying and succeeding to make decisions with my brain, not my emotions. It is hard at times, when the flood of feelings, the sadness, longing for the life you dreamed of, thought you would have soon...cloud your judgement and bring you down. But those days are happening less & less. I am waking positive, able to focus on the good more so than the bad. The majority of my anger is gone. I want to get my head out of the bad place & keep it up high where the beautiful things happen. I want to enjoy my kids, my life, my new (old) city. I want to explore the options. I want to find Heather...to love her, embrace her, improve her & be her.
This is all happening, slowly but surely. I am grateful to the few people who I now know I can truly count on no matter what. The people who can be honest with me, tell me their opinion, tell me when I am being a bonehead, but then wrap their arms around me & love the hell out of me. So to those...thank you. Because without you...I'd be a broken shell of the girl who could've soared, but instead gave up.
So...it is time to see what this chick is made of! Can I get a whoop whoop!?!? :)
While I am not interested in going in to detail about the decision to divorce, the shocking behavior that has followed, what I am interested in tackling...strength.
OK, so I have never considered myself a weak person, but until recently, the word weak to me meant physical strength...I never really took the time to think about the emotional side of this. Emotionally...was I strong? Weak? Hmm...I don't know what I used to be, but I can tell you today...I feel strong(er). Today I feel more empowered, more courageous, more prepared. I have done things, accomplished things, made decisions that 2 months ago TERRIFIED me. I have cried a lot. I have doubted myself every step of the way. I continue to doubt my ability, to wonder that when these wings spread, can I truly fly? Can the fears I have be squashed by the power I now possess? I have seen glimpses, however small and brief, of this freaking powerful, bold, strong phoenix-like woman. This person, who is setting goals, accomplishing them, making shit happen! This woman who is truly, honestly beginning to dream big! Who is unphased by the naysayers. Who has learned to use insults as fuel to her fire!
Call me fat, I will run faster, burn more calories.
Call me a bitch, I will smile & laugh at your immaturity.
Tell me I'm greedy, I will work harder, making an amazing productive HAPPY life for my family of 4.
Tell me I'm your biggest mistake, I will squeeze my babies a little tighter at bedtime & thank God I got the best parts of you.
I am learning that the way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time. Not to get overwhelmed at its enormity. I am learning, slowly, sometimes after many failed attempts, that this is true. I set small goals for myself. And at the time they seem so insignificant and like they don't make a difference. But now, after all of these tiny things begin to turn into something bigger, something of an accomplishment, I am proud of myself for doing what I have done. For trying and succeeding to make decisions with my brain, not my emotions. It is hard at times, when the flood of feelings, the sadness, longing for the life you dreamed of, thought you would have soon...cloud your judgement and bring you down. But those days are happening less & less. I am waking positive, able to focus on the good more so than the bad. The majority of my anger is gone. I want to get my head out of the bad place & keep it up high where the beautiful things happen. I want to enjoy my kids, my life, my new (old) city. I want to explore the options. I want to find Heather...to love her, embrace her, improve her & be her.
This is all happening, slowly but surely. I am grateful to the few people who I now know I can truly count on no matter what. The people who can be honest with me, tell me their opinion, tell me when I am being a bonehead, but then wrap their arms around me & love the hell out of me. So to those...thank you. Because without you...I'd be a broken shell of the girl who could've soared, but instead gave up.
So...it is time to see what this chick is made of! Can I get a whoop whoop!?!? :)
Friday, June 14, 2013
Changes
The past few weeks, have been the hardest weeks of my life. I will not go into detail at this time, but what I will say is, change is scary...
How do I know if the decisions I make today, will be the decisions I look back on in a week from now and agree they were the right ones? I am finding strength I never knew, or even dreamed I had. I am finding that Heather, when pushed, pushes back, and becomes a fierce lioness. She is tough. She is determined. She is smart. She is strong. She is capable. She is compassionate...but what she is not? Confident. I tell myself I am good enough. I tell myself I am attractive & lovable. But really, I don't believe it is true. I have amazing people in my life who tell me daily that I am good enough, not only good enough, but amazing. Is it true? Do others see qualities in me that really are there? Or do they just see me through rose colored glasses? Am I the person they think I am? Should it matter to me what others think? Is the way to build a self esteem listening to others? Isn't that why I hate myself to begin with? Because as a young impressionable child, I listened and believed when I was told I wasn't good enough? When I was told I would never be great...I was a sponge that absorbed it all. There are moments in life that I feel great, things I have written about before. But when it is just me, alone, in my thoughts, I feel small & insignificant. I want to be the phoenix I was recently compared to. I want to be that fierce hard to deter predator. Can I get there? That is the road this journey is currently taking. A road I never thought I would travel, but one I am going down...no speed limit sign in sight. I am opening my eyes to possibilities I never even saw before.
I am going to be great. I am going to do great things. I am going to make a difference. I am going to be free to be me. I am going to love hard. I am going to dream big. I am going to be the person that is hiding...I just have to find her and fight like hell to make her stay. I am going to...be me...whoever that may be.
How do I know if the decisions I make today, will be the decisions I look back on in a week from now and agree they were the right ones? I am finding strength I never knew, or even dreamed I had. I am finding that Heather, when pushed, pushes back, and becomes a fierce lioness. She is tough. She is determined. She is smart. She is strong. She is capable. She is compassionate...but what she is not? Confident. I tell myself I am good enough. I tell myself I am attractive & lovable. But really, I don't believe it is true. I have amazing people in my life who tell me daily that I am good enough, not only good enough, but amazing. Is it true? Do others see qualities in me that really are there? Or do they just see me through rose colored glasses? Am I the person they think I am? Should it matter to me what others think? Is the way to build a self esteem listening to others? Isn't that why I hate myself to begin with? Because as a young impressionable child, I listened and believed when I was told I wasn't good enough? When I was told I would never be great...I was a sponge that absorbed it all. There are moments in life that I feel great, things I have written about before. But when it is just me, alone, in my thoughts, I feel small & insignificant. I want to be the phoenix I was recently compared to. I want to be that fierce hard to deter predator. Can I get there? That is the road this journey is currently taking. A road I never thought I would travel, but one I am going down...no speed limit sign in sight. I am opening my eyes to possibilities I never even saw before.
I am going to be great. I am going to do great things. I am going to make a difference. I am going to be free to be me. I am going to love hard. I am going to dream big. I am going to be the person that is hiding...I just have to find her and fight like hell to make her stay. I am going to...be me...whoever that may be.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Stop saying when...
When am I going to stop sectioning my life off? When am I going to stop holding life off with phrases like..."I will do that...when...I get my excess skin removed." or "I will allow myself that joy...when...I lose my last 15 pounds." Or "I will finally be happy...when...I don't have this deformed looking body."
What is with the "when." Why am I allowing the "whens" to control my life. Why can't I just live every day for what it is, today? Why didn't I shed the self doubt and insecurities when I shed the 130 pounds? Curse you childhood filled with negativity and berating comments telling you you were less than. Does anyone else feel this way? I am so thrilled that I got the call two weeks ago...my insurance is covering my skin removal surgery. This is such a huge huge thing for me. My stomach is a reminder of nothing but bad. No accomplishments there...just regret, embarrassment and shame. I am terrified of the recovery. Terrified. These are going to be the most painful horrendous days of my life. I am afraid of getting depressed. I am afraid of being alone with my thoughts and not being able to get out of my head and possibly sinking back into the world of darkness and sadness I have experienced a few times in my life. I never understood "depression." In fact, when I was in high school I worked as a receptionist for a psychiatry office and had such a bad, dismissive attitude towards the patients who came in blubbering for hours. My thoughts...get over yourself. No one wants to hear about your pity parties. Yea, that was me.
Then after my last baby was born, me, Big Bad Heather, the brute, got hit in the face with a big piece of depression pie. I hit rock bottom. Had postpartum depression plus many issues that had arisen during my pregnancy that I had smothered during the time. Well, they all surfaced their ugly little heads and I fell deeper than I ever knew possible. I had anxiety attacks through the roof. I literally felt like I was coming out of my skin sometimes. It was an utter nightmare. Thankfully, I found a therapist who was amazing. And took anti-depressants for a while. And was finally able to regain my life.
Then, last year after my gastric bypass I found it happening again. I felt so low. I physically felt like crap and now had no "coping mechanisms" to turn to. No 44oz mountain dew. No enormous bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats. (with almonds of course). No second helpings of dinner just because I wanted. I had never considered myself an emotional eater. I just loved to eat. Now I realized I was an emotional eater, just not in the ways most people were. Now here I was sad, alone, scared and in pain. The constant thought that kept overtaking my head..."So yes I was fat, but I was happy fat. What if I become thin and miserable?" Was this worth it? Now of course...a year out, I say ABSOLUTELY...this was worth every tear, every stitch, every complication. Will this be how I feel after having cosmetic surgery. I sure the hell hope so. I think I should probably start on an anti-depressant before the surgery. Because over the past year, instead of being an emotional eater, I have become an emotional exerciser. Now, when I am feeling stressed, anxious, sad, down, happy, energetic...whatever the emotion is, I hit the gym, sweat my saggy ass off and all is better. My head is clear, my body is strong. I feel powerful. But...after this surgery...I can't exercise for at least 8 WEEKS! 8 WEEKS! I am so afraid I am going to come unglued! I will now not only have food to turn to, but I won't have the gym either! How am I going to cope? Any suggestions???? I know this has to happen, for me to stop with the "whens" but I am terrified friends, simply terrified.
What is with the "when." Why am I allowing the "whens" to control my life. Why can't I just live every day for what it is, today? Why didn't I shed the self doubt and insecurities when I shed the 130 pounds? Curse you childhood filled with negativity and berating comments telling you you were less than. Does anyone else feel this way? I am so thrilled that I got the call two weeks ago...my insurance is covering my skin removal surgery. This is such a huge huge thing for me. My stomach is a reminder of nothing but bad. No accomplishments there...just regret, embarrassment and shame. I am terrified of the recovery. Terrified. These are going to be the most painful horrendous days of my life. I am afraid of getting depressed. I am afraid of being alone with my thoughts and not being able to get out of my head and possibly sinking back into the world of darkness and sadness I have experienced a few times in my life. I never understood "depression." In fact, when I was in high school I worked as a receptionist for a psychiatry office and had such a bad, dismissive attitude towards the patients who came in blubbering for hours. My thoughts...get over yourself. No one wants to hear about your pity parties. Yea, that was me.
Then after my last baby was born, me, Big Bad Heather, the brute, got hit in the face with a big piece of depression pie. I hit rock bottom. Had postpartum depression plus many issues that had arisen during my pregnancy that I had smothered during the time. Well, they all surfaced their ugly little heads and I fell deeper than I ever knew possible. I had anxiety attacks through the roof. I literally felt like I was coming out of my skin sometimes. It was an utter nightmare. Thankfully, I found a therapist who was amazing. And took anti-depressants for a while. And was finally able to regain my life.
Then, last year after my gastric bypass I found it happening again. I felt so low. I physically felt like crap and now had no "coping mechanisms" to turn to. No 44oz mountain dew. No enormous bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats. (with almonds of course). No second helpings of dinner just because I wanted. I had never considered myself an emotional eater. I just loved to eat. Now I realized I was an emotional eater, just not in the ways most people were. Now here I was sad, alone, scared and in pain. The constant thought that kept overtaking my head..."So yes I was fat, but I was happy fat. What if I become thin and miserable?" Was this worth it? Now of course...a year out, I say ABSOLUTELY...this was worth every tear, every stitch, every complication. Will this be how I feel after having cosmetic surgery. I sure the hell hope so. I think I should probably start on an anti-depressant before the surgery. Because over the past year, instead of being an emotional eater, I have become an emotional exerciser. Now, when I am feeling stressed, anxious, sad, down, happy, energetic...whatever the emotion is, I hit the gym, sweat my saggy ass off and all is better. My head is clear, my body is strong. I feel powerful. But...after this surgery...I can't exercise for at least 8 WEEKS! 8 WEEKS! I am so afraid I am going to come unglued! I will now not only have food to turn to, but I won't have the gym either! How am I going to cope? Any suggestions???? I know this has to happen, for me to stop with the "whens" but I am terrified friends, simply terrified.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
So...it has been a crazy hectic week. I have been dying all week to update my blog...but no time! So here we go. I did it!! I completed my first 5K!! Not only did I complete it, but I beat my goal. I told myself if I could finish in under 36 minutes, I would be happy. 34:43 was my official time! BAM! The feeling after crossing that finish line was unimaginable. I have never felt so accomplished in my life. I did something that for me, was physically grueling as well as mentally grueling. The first mile was the hardest. That is the mile where the "You can't do this" monster was sitting on my shoulder telling me I was crazy. Telling me that I was still the fat girl who got tired watching other people exercise. That damn monster controlled 30 years of my life. I will be damned if he gets another minute. So to shut him up I found things to focus on. Whether it was Ludacris in my ear, or the chick in the lime green shirt that I kept pace with, I found small things to distract myself and took it literally inch by inch. I hate running. Like hate it. I'd rather have an episiotomy again, than run. So why do I do this to myself? Why? Because I am learning that I can do anything I put my mind to. I can run a race, I can leg press 200lbs. I can fit in a size 10 jeans. I can say no to unhealthy foods. I can be a better wife, better mom. I can teach people through my mistakes. I can make mistakes yet not allow them to define who I am. I can accept the fact that I am loved, flaws and all. I can and will one day learn to accept myself, all of me.
And that is what I have discovered through running. I don't know if I will continue to run, or if I will find another form of exercise that fills this same need, without physically torturing me. which brings me to the next part of my blog...
I am a lunatic, I know, and this will prove it. When I woke up the day after my race my left foot was killing me. After hobbling around all morning and complaining, I decided to go to the clinic and have it checked out. The doctor said, and I quote: "It appears you have some strained tendons. It is a very common injury among runners." To this...I smiled hugely and said, "Did you just call me a runner??" HaHa! OH MY GOODNESS! I have a sports related injury!!! The only time I have ever incurred a sports related injury was in high school when I high fived my mom after my high school football team made it to the championship game and my acryllic nail ripped off my actual nail and hurt like a mother chucker! But this my friends, this is an athletic injury which by relation means, I am an athlete!!!! This is amazing! So, even though my foot still hurts, especially when I wear shoes, and I might miss my next race this weekend, I LOVE having pushed my body beyond it's normal ability and having my body say "Chick, you're over doing it, slow down." Where as the first 30 years my body was begging me to get off the couch and just do SOMETHING. So that my friend's is how this messed up brain of mine works.
I am a changed woman. Sometimes I don't even recognize myself. And I am not just talking about my outward appearance...I am talking about the person on the inside. She has a different outlook on life. She sees so much more positive. She takes pride in her appearance and her accomplishments. She has accomplishments! There are so many more things I have to work on, and I have definitely made mistakes along the way, and am still making mistakes. But as the old saying goes, I am a work in progress. And now I am actually working to make that progress.
And that is what I have discovered through running. I don't know if I will continue to run, or if I will find another form of exercise that fills this same need, without physically torturing me. which brings me to the next part of my blog...
I am a lunatic, I know, and this will prove it. When I woke up the day after my race my left foot was killing me. After hobbling around all morning and complaining, I decided to go to the clinic and have it checked out. The doctor said, and I quote: "It appears you have some strained tendons. It is a very common injury among runners." To this...I smiled hugely and said, "Did you just call me a runner??" HaHa! OH MY GOODNESS! I have a sports related injury!!! The only time I have ever incurred a sports related injury was in high school when I high fived my mom after my high school football team made it to the championship game and my acryllic nail ripped off my actual nail and hurt like a mother chucker! But this my friends, this is an athletic injury which by relation means, I am an athlete!!!! This is amazing! So, even though my foot still hurts, especially when I wear shoes, and I might miss my next race this weekend, I LOVE having pushed my body beyond it's normal ability and having my body say "Chick, you're over doing it, slow down." Where as the first 30 years my body was begging me to get off the couch and just do SOMETHING. So that my friend's is how this messed up brain of mine works.
I am a changed woman. Sometimes I don't even recognize myself. And I am not just talking about my outward appearance...I am talking about the person on the inside. She has a different outlook on life. She sees so much more positive. She takes pride in her appearance and her accomplishments. She has accomplishments! There are so many more things I have to work on, and I have definitely made mistakes along the way, and am still making mistakes. But as the old saying goes, I am a work in progress. And now I am actually working to make that progress.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Best feeling ever
Best feeling in the world? So, we all have a different response for this, but for me, one of the absolute best feelings is knowing that you have made a difference in someone else's life. Last night was my monthly support group meeting down at the U. I love going to these because it is awesome being in a room filled with people that know your struggles, have walked along the same hard path & been down the road of failed diets & harsh criticism. I love hearing about other people's experiences. What they have learned, what helps them. I love sharing my opinions & struggles. I love the genuine smiles on the faces of people when I walk in.
Last night after the meeting ended, a lady I met at a new patient seminar I spoke at in March came up to me to say hello. She has started the 6 month process to prepare for surgery. She was so excited to see me & told me that because of what I had said when I spoke at the seminar, she decided she did have the strength to go through with this and that she was so excited to change her life. She told me that she thinks of me often on days that she is scared and underestimates herself. Truly, what an honor. It makes me feel so good to hear words like that and to know that I am making a difference. This is my life's calling. I have never had a passion before. I always wanted to have one, something that drives you, picks you up, makes you feel empowered. But before now, nothing ever tickled my fancy. Now, I have a passion & am serious about wanting to work for my program. Become a patient advocate. On staff to answer questions and help those who need it along the way. It is the perfect calling for me. I have virtually pleaded and begged them to give me a job. I am not too proud to beg. I LOVE to talk and the idea of getting paid to do it makes me giddy with excitement. I gotta make this happen! Oprah says if you think about it and want something enough, you can make it happen. Come on Oprah logic...don't let this girl down!
Last night after the meeting ended, a lady I met at a new patient seminar I spoke at in March came up to me to say hello. She has started the 6 month process to prepare for surgery. She was so excited to see me & told me that because of what I had said when I spoke at the seminar, she decided she did have the strength to go through with this and that she was so excited to change her life. She told me that she thinks of me often on days that she is scared and underestimates herself. Truly, what an honor. It makes me feel so good to hear words like that and to know that I am making a difference. This is my life's calling. I have never had a passion before. I always wanted to have one, something that drives you, picks you up, makes you feel empowered. But before now, nothing ever tickled my fancy. Now, I have a passion & am serious about wanting to work for my program. Become a patient advocate. On staff to answer questions and help those who need it along the way. It is the perfect calling for me. I have virtually pleaded and begged them to give me a job. I am not too proud to beg. I LOVE to talk and the idea of getting paid to do it makes me giddy with excitement. I gotta make this happen! Oprah says if you think about it and want something enough, you can make it happen. Come on Oprah logic...don't let this girl down!
Saturday, April 27, 2013
What was I thinking? Commit me now....
OK...so at it gets closer, I get more anxious, more fearful. What am I thinking?? I cannot do this. For Pete's sake, I am many things; loud, spirited, chatty, motivated, some would say obnoxious, funny...but the one thing I am NOT? A RUNNER! Why in the world did I think I was capable of RUNNING 5Ks this spring? Why did I think this was a good idea? Why is my first race only 1 week away??
I have this image of me withered up on the side of the road panting and unable to even mumble the word 'water.' Yea, I know for most people jogging 3.1 miles is nothing. Seems completely doable and normal for many of m friends. Heck a lot of my friends run half and full marathons (never!!) But for me dear friends, it might as well be climbing Mt. Everest! The summer of 2011 when I started researching the surgery, my program asked me to write an essay, an explanation of sorts, about why I thought I was a good candidate for this surgery. What were my expectations were for the long term outcome? I recall writing many things that I never had allowed myself to dream of doing. Para-sailing, snorkeling, travelling to exotic destinations, shopping in normal stores...notice what I did not say?? RUNNING! Oh geez. Why did I sign up for these? Better yet, why did I pay MONEY to torture myself?? Can I do this? Can I actually run it and finish in a 'decent' time? Can I finish it at all??? Why did I think this was a good idea?
What was the most exciting aspect of doing this? I'll tell you, and I warn you, it is totally selfish! I want to simply be able to say, "I did it." A year ago, walking up stairs was sweat inducing. I don't think I would have been able to run 50 feet, even if Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson was at the finish line waiting to give me a massage and a diamond. Now, I want my little race number that gets attached to my shirt so I can put it on my "dream board". I want the damn t-shirt that I can wear and secretly feel a little proud. I want a picture at the start line where the trepidation and fear is written across my face...then I want the picture at the finish line, drenched in sweat, tired, but with a smile as wide as my behind! Again, can I do this? Will I embarrass myself? Ohhh, Heather, what have you gotten yourself in to? Did you give yourself more credit than you deserve, to think you are actually ready to do this?? Ooh, 1 week and there will be answers to these questions. Until then, the fear of the unknown will steal many hours of sleep away from this old girl.
I have this image of me withered up on the side of the road panting and unable to even mumble the word 'water.' Yea, I know for most people jogging 3.1 miles is nothing. Seems completely doable and normal for many of m friends. Heck a lot of my friends run half and full marathons (never!!) But for me dear friends, it might as well be climbing Mt. Everest! The summer of 2011 when I started researching the surgery, my program asked me to write an essay, an explanation of sorts, about why I thought I was a good candidate for this surgery. What were my expectations were for the long term outcome? I recall writing many things that I never had allowed myself to dream of doing. Para-sailing, snorkeling, travelling to exotic destinations, shopping in normal stores...notice what I did not say?? RUNNING! Oh geez. Why did I sign up for these? Better yet, why did I pay MONEY to torture myself?? Can I do this? Can I actually run it and finish in a 'decent' time? Can I finish it at all??? Why did I think this was a good idea?
What was the most exciting aspect of doing this? I'll tell you, and I warn you, it is totally selfish! I want to simply be able to say, "I did it." A year ago, walking up stairs was sweat inducing. I don't think I would have been able to run 50 feet, even if Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson was at the finish line waiting to give me a massage and a diamond. Now, I want my little race number that gets attached to my shirt so I can put it on my "dream board". I want the damn t-shirt that I can wear and secretly feel a little proud. I want a picture at the start line where the trepidation and fear is written across my face...then I want the picture at the finish line, drenched in sweat, tired, but with a smile as wide as my behind! Again, can I do this? Will I embarrass myself? Ohhh, Heather, what have you gotten yourself in to? Did you give yourself more credit than you deserve, to think you are actually ready to do this?? Ooh, 1 week and there will be answers to these questions. Until then, the fear of the unknown will steal many hours of sleep away from this old girl.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
"Easy Way Out" My Ass...
Ok, so my attitude sucks today. I admit it. There are days where I can't get out of my own head and I allow my insecurities to control my life. So if this post offends anyone, I apologize, but I am being honest here because it is my blog and I am writing it because quite frankly, it is cheaper than therapy!
I am so sick of the negative attitude and opinions that have become some what of a stigma attached to gastric bypass. When someone tells me or word gets back around that people think I took the "easy way out" by having surgery my gut reaction is to punch them in their ignorant nose! Agh, it seriously makes me want to scream. Anyone who has been through this process or has known someone intimately who has, knows that this is not the "easy way out."
I didn't just wake up one morning, decide I wanted to be thin, had surgery and sat back watching soap operas and polishing my nails while the weight "melted off." Sure, there might be people out there who have, and unfortunately those are the ones who in the end, are probably the people who give gastric bypass patients a bad reputation because they eventually gain a lot, if not all of their weight back. This is not and will not be me. I have changed my ENTIRE life because of this surgery. I am diligent with my diet. I am somewhat obsessive with my exercise. I am an energetic person who is so grateful I had the opportunity to have this surgery. I started exercising about a month after surgery. What started out as simple walking has now turned into jogging, sprinting, training for 5ks, weight training, sit ups, squats, lunges, and daily exercise targeting different muscle groups. There are days (like today) that I feel so defeated because I have reached the point where there is not a whole lot more I can do on my own to change my appearance at this point. I feel like my body hates me. Yea, under clothes with enough Spanx & spandex, it doesn't look too bad. But when it is just me, unclothed in front of that horrendous bathroom mirror I feel like my excess skin stares at me and screams LOSER. Having this skin there to remind me every minute of every day, how many years I missed out on being me to my fullest is such an incredibly harsh reminder of what I allowed my weight to steal from me. I hate it. I hate my flabby arms. I hate my jiggly thighs. I hate my ocean waves stomach. No matter what I do at the gym, this crap isn't going to go away.
So, where does this leave me? 1) Continue to be harsh on myself. Continue the negative self talk, you aren't good enough, you never will be no matter what criticism I heard constantly as a child? 2) Put on a happy face for the rest of the world to make them believe all is well with rainbows and unicorns? Pretend like there are not days that I despise myself and live in a dark world of shame and regret? 3) Stop allowing my weight issues of the past to continue to define my future and once and for all, learn to accept my damn self?? Why is this so hard??? Why do we judge ourselves so much harsher than anyone else? Why can't I see in myself what my husband says he sees when he looks at me? He says he sees the extra skin not as something to be ashamed of, but as something that deserves to be celebrated. Why in the hell can't I focus on the 125+ pounds I have lost instead of the 20 pounds I want to lose? Why can't I be proud of myself instead of thinking I am not good enough because the scale has not budged in almost 4 months? Why is this? Is this how we are designed to be? Are we designed to be our own worst critic? Or is this what society, maybe even Satan has instilled in us to make us feel unworthy to reach our full potential.
I haven't talked about this in this kind of honesty with any of those that I know who have had this surgery, but I am pretty sure my fascination with the skin and feelings of inadequacy are more severe than most people. Is this because I lacked a single shred of self esteem as a child? Is it because I was never told I was beautiful? Is it because I never allowed any compliments of the sort because I was ashamed of my size from the very beginning? Is this going to go away? With time will this heal? Will I ever really be "ok" with Heather? If I am lucky enough to be able to have this skin removed, will it be the end of these issues, or will it then be replaced by another insecurity? Maybe it will be the scars? Or how many freckles I have? Or my pasty, unable to tan skin? Am I ever just going to be able to accept me? Will the judgement I feel from others ever really not bother me? When I am sweating my behind off at the gym, are people really staring at my bat wings? If I wore a shirt that said "I have lost 125 pounds, stare at something else rather than my loose skin" make a difference. Do people really care??
Yea, so this is what some days are like living in the complicated head of Heather...tomorrow it will be back to the world of rainbows and unicorns...hopefully.
I am so sick of the negative attitude and opinions that have become some what of a stigma attached to gastric bypass. When someone tells me or word gets back around that people think I took the "easy way out" by having surgery my gut reaction is to punch them in their ignorant nose! Agh, it seriously makes me want to scream. Anyone who has been through this process or has known someone intimately who has, knows that this is not the "easy way out."
I didn't just wake up one morning, decide I wanted to be thin, had surgery and sat back watching soap operas and polishing my nails while the weight "melted off." Sure, there might be people out there who have, and unfortunately those are the ones who in the end, are probably the people who give gastric bypass patients a bad reputation because they eventually gain a lot, if not all of their weight back. This is not and will not be me. I have changed my ENTIRE life because of this surgery. I am diligent with my diet. I am somewhat obsessive with my exercise. I am an energetic person who is so grateful I had the opportunity to have this surgery. I started exercising about a month after surgery. What started out as simple walking has now turned into jogging, sprinting, training for 5ks, weight training, sit ups, squats, lunges, and daily exercise targeting different muscle groups. There are days (like today) that I feel so defeated because I have reached the point where there is not a whole lot more I can do on my own to change my appearance at this point. I feel like my body hates me. Yea, under clothes with enough Spanx & spandex, it doesn't look too bad. But when it is just me, unclothed in front of that horrendous bathroom mirror I feel like my excess skin stares at me and screams LOSER. Having this skin there to remind me every minute of every day, how many years I missed out on being me to my fullest is such an incredibly harsh reminder of what I allowed my weight to steal from me. I hate it. I hate my flabby arms. I hate my jiggly thighs. I hate my ocean waves stomach. No matter what I do at the gym, this crap isn't going to go away.
So, where does this leave me? 1) Continue to be harsh on myself. Continue the negative self talk, you aren't good enough, you never will be no matter what criticism I heard constantly as a child? 2) Put on a happy face for the rest of the world to make them believe all is well with rainbows and unicorns? Pretend like there are not days that I despise myself and live in a dark world of shame and regret? 3) Stop allowing my weight issues of the past to continue to define my future and once and for all, learn to accept my damn self?? Why is this so hard??? Why do we judge ourselves so much harsher than anyone else? Why can't I see in myself what my husband says he sees when he looks at me? He says he sees the extra skin not as something to be ashamed of, but as something that deserves to be celebrated. Why in the hell can't I focus on the 125+ pounds I have lost instead of the 20 pounds I want to lose? Why can't I be proud of myself instead of thinking I am not good enough because the scale has not budged in almost 4 months? Why is this? Is this how we are designed to be? Are we designed to be our own worst critic? Or is this what society, maybe even Satan has instilled in us to make us feel unworthy to reach our full potential.
I haven't talked about this in this kind of honesty with any of those that I know who have had this surgery, but I am pretty sure my fascination with the skin and feelings of inadequacy are more severe than most people. Is this because I lacked a single shred of self esteem as a child? Is it because I was never told I was beautiful? Is it because I never allowed any compliments of the sort because I was ashamed of my size from the very beginning? Is this going to go away? With time will this heal? Will I ever really be "ok" with Heather? If I am lucky enough to be able to have this skin removed, will it be the end of these issues, or will it then be replaced by another insecurity? Maybe it will be the scars? Or how many freckles I have? Or my pasty, unable to tan skin? Am I ever just going to be able to accept me? Will the judgement I feel from others ever really not bother me? When I am sweating my behind off at the gym, are people really staring at my bat wings? If I wore a shirt that said "I have lost 125 pounds, stare at something else rather than my loose skin" make a difference. Do people really care??
Yea, so this is what some days are like living in the complicated head of Heather...tomorrow it will be back to the world of rainbows and unicorns...hopefully.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Where is all began...
So here we go...my first official entry of my new blog. Gonna begin with the reason I decided to start a blog in the first place. Here it goes:
August 2011;
August 2011;
Yep, that's me in the pink. 319 pounds. I thought I was happy. I didn't think my weight affected my daily life. I was (fairly) happily married, had 3 great kids, lots of friends, good social life & had perfected the art of denial after a lifetime of being morbidly obese. I was that kid who shopped in the women's department at 10 years old. I have a very vivid memory of going Christmas shopping for clothes at Montgomery Wards (hey, this was a LONG time ago) and buying a pair of cream colored jeans in a size 20. That's right, my waist size was double that of my actual age. I hated being a fat kid. Middle school was torture. Kids are cruel. It wasn't until about age 12 (7th grade) that I started to figure out the whole "if I make fun of myself first, no one else can hurt my feelings." So there it was, finally I had an identity. I was the funny fat girl. It made life easier, but those who knew me well, knew what torture and anguish I felt on the inside. However, my outside facade was amazing. I had a terrific 4 years of high school. Of course, I never went on a date, prom was out of the question and I had a lot of guy friends because their girlfriend's wouldn't be jealous if they talked to me. But I did make the most of those 4 years. I look back now and am proud of the friend and person I was. I wouldn't change a thing...except of course, the dreaded number on the scale.
So after high school, I got accepted to my dream college, BYU (yes, I was delusional) and moved out west. Soon, I was no longer interested in a bachelor's degree, I was interested in an MRS. degree & graduated to be MRS. ROBERT FOLLETT in June 2001. Shopping for wedding dresses was torture. Apparently fat girls aren't supposed to get married. I had to settle for a sequined short sleeve hideous (in my opinion) off the rack dress because it was the only thing I could fit in and afford. But oh well, I got to marry my guy so who cares how gigantic I was, right?
I had my first baby 9 months & 8 days after I got married. (Hey when God said multiply and replenish the earth, us young virgin Mormons took it very literal!) After my little stud muffin was born I, like a lot of moms, packed on the pounds. I was around 300 lbs when I got pregnant with my second baby in the fall of 2003. I had a very high risk pregnancy because of all of the diseases I had related to my weight. My blood pressure was out of control, I was borderline diabetic at this point & had issues with spilling protein in my urine. The last 8 weeks of my pregnancy I had to go to the hospital twice a week to have fetal stress tests because they were concerned with her movement & growth. Thankfully my little spitfire was born the last day of June 2004, healthy and loud! (Colic is evil!!)
So, within the next couple years I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes, fatty liver & High Cholesterol, yet SOMEHOW I still lived a life of denial because "I felt fine."
By October 2005, I was at my heaviest 328 pounds. I hated that I sweat all of the time. I found it embarrassing that by just walking up the stairs at work to clock in left me winded & panting. So I decided to get serious about learning to manage my weight. I went to a weight loss seminar that month & learned about gastric bypass & banding. I left that seminar snubbing my nose towards those people who had to "resort to that." No way did I need to do something that drastic to lose weight. I wasn't going to give up my soda & be responsible for every single bite of food I consumed. I could do this "on my own." So I joined Curves & Weight Watchers & yes, I did lose about 30 pounds. But then it happened...I fell off the bandwagon when that number on the scale didn't change for a few consecutive weeks. I got discouraged & angry! How could I not be losing weight?? I was exercising for Pete's sake! Don't they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over & expecting different results? So ha! Perfect excuse, I am not insane, so therefore I must stop exercising!
Yeah, ridiculous right?! The next couple of years were pretty unremarkable in the weight aspect. I got pregnant (at Disneyland, happiest place on earth!) the fall of 2008. My third pregnancy was terrible. I felt horrible, super sluggish, and I was on 5-8 different medications controlling all of my diseases. I was so high risk with this little guy. Looking back now, I am so grateful for good doctors that helped me at a time I was too foolish to help myself. My little man was born via c-section in July 2009. This, now, is chalked up as one of those "most embarrassing" moments. While being prepped for the unexpected c-section, I will never forget that my doctor was kind of "teaching" the doctor assisting him what he does in cases with "very obese moms." He actually taped my fat to get it out of the way. As in, used TAPE to lift my fat rolls & taped them to the drape to he could cut into my uterus. Wow. Wow. Wow. To be anxious & scared and to here the words "very obese" & hear the sound of "duct" tape being unrolled & attached to my fat was utterly terrifying.
BUT! You know me, I am nothing if not resilient! So, I pretended that didn't happen. If no one I knew was there to hear it, it wasn't true, so I blocked it out & moved on & lived that euphoria of new-Mommyhood with my studly little prince & happy little family. I am good! Who cares that I had to take 7 medications to be "healthy?" Who cares that I was a size 24? Who cares that those size 24 jeans were getting really snug? Who cares? I am a good person. People loved me. I was popular. WHO CARES?
Well...the answer to that question came like a lightening bolt in July 2011. I got a call from my mom back in South Carolina. Her doctor had found a large tumor in her stomach & they were doing a biopsy but were certain it was that dreaded "C" word. What?? Wait!! She can't have cancer! I still have so much I need to work out with her. I have years to do this still. I wasn't quite 29 years old. She couldn't die...could she?!?
So within the week my 3 kids & I had boarded a flight to South Carolina. They next few weeks were spent rotating shifts at her bedside between my father and I. Many many nights were spent sleeping on the fold out cot at MUSC thinking & worrying. What if I was motherless at 29? How could she possibly die? What would I do? How would I get over my issues with her if she weren't there to get over them with? Then...KABOOM!!! Honestly like a freaking lightening bolt it hit me! What if, just what it, 20 years from now, my own little children were having this same conversation with themselves about me?? What if I didn't get my weight under control and by the time I was 50 I was on death's doorstep because the diabetes had put me there? Or I had a major stroke due to my blood pressure? Or massive heart attack as a result of years of high cholesterol? What if, by ignoring my fat, I was in fact, ignoring my children & their needs? I would hate me if I were them! If I knew there was something my mom could do to assure she had many more years to spend with me but instead chose to continue to stuff her face with unhealthy foods. And shun exercise for reruns of Law & Order. In Oprah's words...that right there was my 'Ah-Hah' moment. I had tried for numerous years to get my weight in check. Just gave up because it was too hard. I knew, I couldn't do this on my own. So, I jumped on the computer one night at the hospital & started looking at programs in Utah that specialized in bariatric surgery. I then contacted my insurance company to ask if this was a procedure they ever covered & what I needed to qualify? I made appointments with 2 local programs. The first appointment was September 2, 2011. That was the day I truly started my journey to Heather 5.0.
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