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??

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!?!? :)

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.

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.

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.

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! 

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.