Day 1 - Honesty & Self-Pity

Honesty & Self Pity

With a comment regarding generosity to the point of dishonesty I was inclined to evaluate my honesty with myself in regards to food which expanded into... everything.

Yesterday was a total loss food wise. I binged on snickers bars and laffy taffy. I blamed Carisa (jokingly), but let's face it... I ate that shit on my own accord, and there is always some truth in jest. I made a decision. I logged the first 5 fun-sized bites of garbage and still felt in control. Then I chose to lose control, and I paid for it. By the end of the night I felt dizzy, foggy, exhausted, and contemplated checking in for a head CT having convinced myself I was having a TIA.

My somewhat dishonest and borderline unhealthy relationship with food is not new. But I am fucking ready to be done with it.

I pulled it together quite quickly today. I feel pretty good. Completed my workout even with a sore wrist. I didn't want to, though. I had to talk myself into. I began to whine to the point of feeling sorry for myself. I struggled to go to the bathroom today because of my food choices yesterday. That was the moment I realized I was feeling sorry for myself.

"A small bird will fall frozen dead from a bough without every having felt sorry for itself."

I pulled my shit together.

The challenge here, at this point in my life, in my health journey, is to hold myself accountable. To be honest with myself. Rely on myself to show up, do the work, and recover properly. To eat the diet that works best for my body, and get there. To trust myself.  No one else an cross that finish line for me.

In the end of any cycle, any challenge, we are always brought face to face with ourselves or some aspect of that.

She Asked What I Wanted for my Birthday.

As Adelynne innocently reminded me today, my 34th birthday is in 19 days. I will be 34 this year. It's weird. I remember my mother having a 40th birthday for a friend when I was in highschool, and I remember thinking what an age-related hump that person just hit in their life. Was this old, I wondered? I answered yes to that question all those years ago but now 40 doesn't seem so old. I think all us 30 somethings would/could agree.

When I was asked what I wanted for my birthday I couldn't think of anything. I just smiled. I truly felt in that moment I had everything I had ever asked for. All things I ever desired where here with me now or in motion. I felt nothing but a deep reverberating gratitude and joy. I was so thankful I imagined spitting out those chips and salsa kissing the faces of my three favorite gals sitting at the table around me.

I AM GRATEFUL.

I imagine, last year, I asked for a baby. Last year alone we had 3 failed inseminations, I'm certain my wish for my 33rd birthday was for number four to work. And it did. I sat across from that miracle last night. I looked at her, her other Mother, and her sister and wondered what did I want this year? 

When I blow those candles out in nineteen short days, I'm going to wish for the ability to be more present in all the moments in my life. When I turn 40, I will have lived in Michigan as long as I had lived in TN. It will have been well over a decade since I decided to get sober, and I will have friends I have known for over 25 years (I mean... hopefully we are still putting up with each other's crap). That shit has gone by fast. All of it. I don't want to take it for granted. I wish to enjoy and soak up every moment of the rest of this life. Literal blood and tears have been shed for me to be here as I am. And I am the best I've ever been. There is still work, don't get me wrong, but I have never felt so whole with such a deep desire to connect with those closest to my heart. All I've ever wanted to be is a better person - a better friend, a better daughter, a better mother, a better employee, etc. While I still attest there is nothing wrong with striving to better myself, there is a time and place for it. To fully live in the moment I have to allow myself to be enough in that moment. We all do. 

With Grace & Gratitude...

I Hate Losing Weight

Some days the food struggle is real.

Today has been one of those days. I have wanted all the sweets since I woke up this morning. My day has been a constant reciting of the word no. Just now, I snuck quietly into the kitchen as my 5 year old played in her room, my wife was upstairs, and the baby was sleeping with every intention of eating the other half of that donut we didn't let Adelynne eat about 20 minutes ago. It sucks. But it's real. I shut the refrigerator door as quickly as I had opened it. I won in that moment, but there is just under 7 hours left of today. DAMN THAT STRUGGLE.

Two days ago I met with my long time trainer and friend to evaluate my post-baby fitness level and get my programming for the month. We talked about goals. I always want muscle. I always want to lift. That is easy. Heavy shit is easy. I have an aversion to wanting "weight loss" as a goal. It is instantly irritating. I feel herded into the majority of Americans that say the want to "lose weight" or should lose weight and jump on diet fad trains. Losing weight feels like a fad in and of itself. Like a bunch of meaningless words that have lost all their weight (so much pun intended). I wanted to puke sitting next to that raw wooden desk I imagined to have been cut from last years Christmas trees with an ax as I allowed myself to insinuate that weight loss was my goal. FUCK, I mean really?! Who was I? The metaphorical bitterness of that statement made my nose roll up in disgust. Hadn't weight loss always been the natural byproduct of my other goals such as "being more fit", "making better choices", "healing unresolved issues", and "changing my relationship with food?" I leaned back against that raw pine desk and admitted my distress with uttering such words... weight loss. I also admitted I didn't know why it felt the way it did to say - like I had fallen into some trap or betrayed my own morals. My trainer and friend leaned back in his own chair and said, "Because it's hard. Because for some of us, the food part is hard. You have to tell yourself no." And it is. He knows that struggle, too. Maybe that's why I've always leaned toward building muscle. I can eat then. I can actually eat more. But if I'm completely and deeply honest with myself. I do need to lose weight, or as he more accurately and gracefully put it, lose body fat. And if I continue with this self-honesty, I want to lose body fat. God, that still tastes kinda terrible, but not as bad as "losing weight." So strange.

Words themselves carry weight, but that's a different blog for a different day.

So, I told myself no at Meijer today; I told myself no in my kitchen. I told myself no yesterday to sugar all together and somehow still managed to eat almost 4,000 calories. YES, 4,000 calories. I tracked them, and I'm not exaggerating. This shit IS hard but so has been every other addiction I've ever faced in my life. Food is no different for me. You know what I wanted all that damn sugar today? Because the baby was up half the night, I was tired, woke up irritable, and still haven't had a shower. I'm going to keep telling myself no, though, for today at-least. One day at a time. And maybe one day, it just won't be an issue anymore. THAT is my goal - to live my fucking life. To tolerate and ride my anxieties, stresses, and life experiences with grace and awareness. I want to be healthy and fit because I no longer choose to use food as a drug and because being active brings me so much damn joy and so many endorphins I can't imagine reaching for anything else.

With Grace & Gratitude...

Change & Chaos: They Are Not the Same

I was chatting with a friend the other night after a long day of unexplained anger and irritability. She appeared to have what some people call a "catastrophic reaction" - the anger she had been juggling all day finally came to an explosive head over something seemingly small. After an hour of silence she told me she felt a lot of stress in her life, as if, everything around her was crashing down, and it felt like utter chaos.

I've been thinking about this experience ever since. I did end up telling her that night that change and chaos were not the same, although, sometimes they feel identical. The chaos piece comes from our thoughts - us thinking of 100 different solutions and possibilities, and then possible second outcomes to all those 100 solutions, along with what our actions would be to each and every one of those solutions. Writing that alone sounds chaotic.

Change itself is not chaotic, but it can definitely feel that way. And maybe I'm writing this so I can read it later, after this baby is born, when my entire life, schedule, and habits get shifted in someway. Some change we yearn and pray for and anxiously await it's impending arrival. Some change is entirely unexpected (this one might actually be a bit chaotic for a bit), and other times it happens so slowly we don't hardly recognize it until one day look around a bit confused wondering where something went in our life.

If I've learned anything about change in the last decade it's that my monkey mind is what causes more distress and anxiety than anything. Taking things one step at a time, one day at a time, is what gets me through it. (And usually a solid amount of Bach Flower drops, exercise/lifting, yoga, meditation, & journaling) In those times I feel I don't have time for any of these things, I make time for them. Sounds cliche, but I do; I have to. Otherwise, life begins to feel like it's spinning out of control. I need these things in my life. They are essential to my over-all well-being. Anytime I talk to anyone about stress or feelings of anxiety and confusion I ask them what they do as a healthy stress reliever. That energy must go somewhere. It cannot stay within our energy fields. Our minds and bodies will adjust accordingly and create disease - some sort of protective mechanism intended for short-term use that accidentally becomes long-term and harmful.

I encourage people to find something. Out of habit, I am quick to offer and encourage the things I know work for me, but it's important to understand that all of us are different. And for God's sake, start small! Create space. Could I take those 7 minutes I spend scrolling through facebook to text a friend hello? How about meditate? Or walk outside and take three long/deep breathes? Be creative.

With Grace & Gratitude.

Don't Be a Victim

"Don't be a victim"

This statement has rolled through my mind regularly the last few days. I've acknowledged it and given it some energy. I've probed it's relevance and possible signal for self-reflection, especially, in light of some family drama and new realizations. Don't be a victim. 

I don't necessarily feel I am that person who allows myself to be feel victimized often, if ever. It's something I've lived and dealt with in depth previously, and I remain mindful of it's potential to affect my life again. But why was this coming into my awareness? Why was the Universe dropping these hints, or more so, reminders to no be a victim? Was I allowing myself to be that? Had I already fallen back into that trap temporarily? Family dynamics are the trickiest of human relationships. I've often noticed that as soon as I feel I've got something healed or handled the Universe puts a family member in front of me and tests my ability to make a different decision or carry out a different action.

Don't be a victim.

It's easy to allow when it's all you've ever known. It's easy to do when it feels like things are always being done TO you. It's easy to do when you feel out of control or exhausted. It's easy to do when you give in against your better judgement because you are utterly exhausted from the boundaries you've set are constantly being pushed against. For the Walking Dead fans, it's like holding a wall against a herd of zombies. They never stop pushing, and more noise attracts more of them to push against your boundaries. Eventually, the mortal (the mindful) get pissed. And when they do, they push back with vengeance and leave devastation in their wake. That's where I'm at.

With Grace & Gratitude...

Training is Spiritual

There comes a moment for me in intense training where everything falls utterly silent except the rhythmic sound of my own breath and that of the rower or bike if I'm on one. It's not a fading out, but a fading in. It always comes after a series of emotional responses that go usually go like this - whining & bitching, anger, feelings of defeat & exhaustion, and finally what I would consider surrender. In words it sounds something like this - "I don't want too", "fuck this & fuck you", "I can't," and, finally, "I'm okay."

I have been asked over the years, more than once, why I train and what exactly I was training for. My response has always been that I was training for life. I train for the everyday ups and downs, hard days and boring days. I was training my mind and emotions that drove this body to walk through this life. I wanted to be stronger, balanced, and free. I still do, and that is why I still train. AND to help the UPS guy, that literally just knocked on my door, to deliver a box that weighed 150lbs in our garage.

Yesterday, I drove to work feeling exhausted and defeated. On a scale of 0-10, 0 being no energy, I was at a 0.5, and I had been there for at-least 3 days. I wanted to cry all morning, and talked myself out of calling-in at-least a dozen times. My body hurt, I was emotional, and I had just told my trainer to wish my luck in not cussing anyone out today. I didn't want to be there - in that mental space. It wasn't helpful; it never is. I thought of the station. I thought of cross-fit and all those moments in the gym where I had felt these exact feelings and manage to pull it off. I managed to survive without crumbling like a small child and create a mess that created feelings of guilt and shame. I remembered that feeling of surrender and completion, where the exhaustion turned into relief and ecstasy. I saw the path I had used so many times before to dig deep. What would have been a torturous day, turned out to be a normal day in the semi-controlled chaos that is the emergency department. I was tired, no doubt, but I pulled it together and pulled through. And I didn't cuss anybody out.

Training is spiritual - if it's done right. It changes you, forever. I have not trained regularly at the station since probably 2012, but the change that transpired there, and other places since, continues to travel with me. It feels like yesterday I laid on those black mat floors in sweat and tears, working in silence while someone watched without sympathy or assistance. The work is different now. Those black mat floors are in my own basement, the white board on the wall is mine, and there is no one standing over me. It feels a bit strange but necessary - a time and opportunity for integrity when the last decade has been full of necessary aides.

The lifting workout prescribed and written has been sitting on my phone for 11 days now. Seven should be the max. I have lengthened the safety string, but not cut it. Let me get down there and get this done.

With Grace & Gratitude...

I Talk to God, but I'm not a Christian

As a kid and even a young adult, "God conversations" were one of my favorite things. I found them uplifting and inspiring. The presence of God always showed up and could unmistakably felt by all. They always seemed divinely orchestrated and full of love, love in it's purest form.

Today, as an adult, I find myself much quieter during those opportunities for God conversations. They feel much different now - restricted and anxiety-producing. Participants seem to enter with a sense of preparation for war, ready to defend their beliefs rather than being open to the divine presence in that moment.

I laid in bed yesterday morning and asked God to please help me feel connected to the new OB/GYN we were going to see that day. I'm already 28 weeks and switching doctors because I simply don't feel a connection to the previous one. I was nervous, feeling connected and at ease was important to me, and as always, I found myself talking to God. It was still really early. I was in and out of sleep, but I laid there and remember having the conversation as if I were talking to a trusted and wise friend. I smiled in acknowledgement after realizing I have always gone to God in moments like this. The quiet moments, the still moments, the dark moments. In my darkest of moments, I have always called out to God, and he has answered, each and every time. I have faith, I'm not sure how it came to be, but it has always felt there. God's grace and my willingness have brought me here, in the middle of a life I never imagined possible, over more obstacles than I care to list. Every day I strive to be the person I felt God has always wanted me to be. I am grateful, and God knows this, I tell him all the time. 

If I were to tell someone all these things they would assume I identified as a christian; I do not. I have watched excitement steadily grow on a person's face with each "God" that came out of my mouth and drain instantly upon hearing I have kept organized religion, especially Christianity, at a distance as long as I could remember. It has never felt right to me - restrictive, exclusive, black and white, with no room for questions and no room for Mother Earth. I have nothing against it, it's just not for me. But God is the term I have always felt most drawn too, and I shouldn't feel I can't use it because I am not a Christian, but I often do. 

As long as I can remember, I have also found solace in nature. Mother Earth's nurturing and beating heart has spoken to mine since I was a child, offering up the quietest spaces and most heart opening vibrations. The solidness of the cool ground with it's thousands of years worth of life before me, beneath my body, as a laid facing an unlimited sky always felt like home - safe, supportive, and loving. The Earth's limitlessness comes in her ability to provide a foundation for me to connect upward without getting lost and all of us a constant replenishment,despite destruction, of our most basic physical needs for food, water, and shelter. I am so grateful for this, too, and she knows it. Even now, I walk barefooted frequently and visit the woods and stream behind my house because nothing feels more balanced to me than the tree which finds itself placed perfectly upright within the earth and the heavens. The water, always moving and overcoming, cleanses my soul like nothing else. This is where I find God, the omnipresent energy of all that is, and I take this back with me into the world as we know it. 

Would this "make" me a pagan or a wishful Native American? I think not. No more than my yoga practice makes me a Buddhist, or my reiki and card readings make me a witch.

So, is this what I tell people now, in adulthood, when religion, spirituality, or "God conversations" arise? I don't want to bring my armor to these sacred moments of connection with others with the intention of defending "my beliefs." I just want to love people as I understand Jesus loved them - as they are, where they are, and live my life by faith and intuition. I just want to honor the Earth, the divine spirit within me, and the plan I feel was laid out before me. 

We don't have to fight over who is wrong or right, it's not about that. It seems so simple to me, that I sometimes struggle to understand why we have made it so difficult for so long. It seems like eons we've been fighting, literally and figuratively, the same spiritual/religious battles among one another. We are doing something wrong here in the bigger picture. We are complicating this, and it just doesn't have to be so. 

So, happy Easter, happy New Moon, and happy spring. This is a powerful time of new beginnings and fertile happenings. I wish you all joyous connections this cycle and a deeper understanding of truth heard deep within your own heart and spirit. 

With Grace & Gratitude...

Some Thoughts on Fitness: Finding What Works for You

This morning my 5 month pregnant ass completed an hour and fifteen minute strength training workout that started off with a 12 minute burpee EMOM and ended with my arms trembling - my lats will be killing me tomorrow. It felt amazing. I have seen other women do more, more pregnant than me. I think about these women when I want to quit, or change the workout to make it a little easier. My goals are simple - consistency, integrity, and balance. I want to be healthy. I want mental, emotional, and physical health to remain a priority in my life and family. It will officially be 10 years this summer since I decided was tired of being fat. 10 years since running 45 seconds was a huge accomplishment and a simple leg day sent me into depleted blood sugar levels and puking after 20 minutes. I am so proud of myself, and so very grateful for the people and journey itself that have gotten me here.

It's important to remember that none of us are perfect in our fitness and health routines. I've known trainers to have beer and nacho weekends, dietitians to eat donuts, and people actively loosing weight to loose count of how many calories they've had that day. I've found myself most successful when I can accept where I'm at and forgive myself for those moments I felt I could have done better. It took me at-least 2 years to forgive myself for the 60lbs I gained after loosing 100 through diet, exercise, and emotional work. I feel better today, 5 months pregnant, still 50lbs over where I was at my lowest, than I have in years. Last summer was hugely transformative for me. It started with a book that fate brought me, it resonated, and I ran with it.

I pride myself in the fact that I may have stumbled, taken steps backwards, and made mistakes over the last decade, but I have never stopped. I have never stopped moving forward and searching for what would work for me which has changed a lot over the years. At times it's been only strength-training sometimes split with cardio, other times it's been walking and yoga a couple times a week - and that had to be enough. Back in the day I had the finances, availability, and proximity to meet with my BFF 4 days a week for bitching and cardio or pay a personal trainer at my favorite gym for 2 hours a week. Things have changed, and I've had to learn to change with it. Now I work-out out of my house in a pretty legit gym built from marketplace deals and hard labor. I have a 5 year old, a wife, a business, and a full-time job. I train at home with oversight from an amazing trainer that I've known for years who programs for me remotely and allows himself available for support and questions at a fraction of what I'd pay him to see me once a week. This works for me.

I truly believe everything in our life is multifaceted and for change to be successful, we must treat it as such. Physical fitness isn't the only important piece. I also work with a gal who helps me address the emotional piece related to over-eating and impulsive eating and have a spouse who supports me 100% even while pregnant and squatting over 200lbs because she knows how important this is to me. I have people in my life I can be honest with about the struggles and addictions related to food and my desire to use them as a means of escape. Somehow that transparency makes it easier to forgive myself and move forward, it lessens the energetic weight of my perceived failures and gives me the confidence to start over in any given moment. I prep-cooked some meals for the first time about 3 years ago by myself and it was barely anything to brag about! I made 3 things, one which was a salad. It took me at-least 5 hours and maybe lasted me week! Two weeks ago, my wife and I spent 9 hours in the kitchen, made 12 different dishes and have food packed away for at-least a couple months.

It's about practice. It's about starting somewhere and continued movement, however slow or small it may feel. It's about being aware enough to notice when fate brings people and situations in your life to help and support you. It's about forgiving yourself and loving yourself wherever you are right now but still wanting to move forward. As they say in alcoholics anonymous, it's about progress not perfection.

With Grace & Gratitude...

Five Months Pregnant & Lifting

I thanked my wife last night for supporting me in my continued fitness regimen while pregnant. She looked at me as though I was insane. "Of course, I support it. It's ignorant not too."

This morning as my 5 month pregnant ass completed my burpees, bench pressing, and dumbbell routine, I thought of our conversation and her utter look of confusion as I told her how much I appreciated her not throwing a fit for me wanting to continue doing the things that keep me sane. Because so many other people have. My previous partner would have, my mother has, my co-workers ask if it's really safe, my in-laws tell me they'd rather me dust than move boxes, but my wife... she supports me and maybe because she knows me.

She knows that exercising keeps me sane and has for a long time. It balances my emotions, my energy, my body. I'm sure I get some kind of endorphin producing high from it, but that's better than a high from anything else. I've spent 10 years spilling my guts on black mat floors, under and over barbells, sweating and crying at the same time, and finding my balance. There are tons of women who have done more while more pregnant, I've seen them myself in the gym with their spotters and belly wraps. They've inspired me long before I found myself in the same place.

Grace & Responsibilities

I need to be real, real quick. It's 4am. I can barely see through my swollen eyes and think past my throbbing face. I woke up from weird dreams of suddenly being responsible for some unknown lady we found on our back property after we purchased it, she somehow lived there, wasn't entirely a surprise, but yet, she had no physical home. It was vague, annoying, and I couldn't get back to sleep. I blame it on a the full moon, my pregnancy hormones, and the great chance I am releasing some old emotions associated with my Mother.

Here's where I'm weird, I own it, and I'm okay with it. Many struggle to wrap their brains around it, but there is a deep truth to this, and it's how I live my life. And have for probably at-least a decade. Physical ailments have an emotional and/or psychological component. To fully heal from any physical ailment, these things must be addressed, too. Less, they be repeated or manifest in some other, more intense, form. I make a point to ask myself - my body and my spirit - when I'm feeling out of sorts, what is this trying to teach me? What is this physical discomfort trying to bring to my awareness?

I sat on my couch tonight and cried because it's been exactly 2 weeks today since I moved my Mother here, into my family's home, so she could have a place to gain strength and heal, and it's also been 2 weeks since I felt 100% physically and emotionally great. I've been anxious (not entirely out of character for me), managed to jack up my right shoulder, upper back, and neck and manifested a terrible sinus infection for the first time since, honestly, probably since she lived here the last time in 2014. I've missed 4 days of work and 3 workout sessions. I am worried for my job, my wife's sanity, what this stress is doing to my unborn baby, if my trainer is going to stick this out with me, and how I can do all this with grace, patience, and compassion all while maintaining a balance between self-care and caring for others; and upholding all my other life responsibilities - my job, my marriage, my kid, my business, and my home.

All that being said - I do not, at all, regret her being here. This is all my shit. And this is truly where she needs to be. In these two weeks, she has ended up back in the hospital for 6 days and currently living in a sub-acute rehab facility to maximize her chances at getting her strength and independence back. I've had no surprises, I expected this to be very similar to the reality it has been, and I'm okay with that. She was already stronger today, after 3 days in rehab, than she's been since her second hospital discharge the end of November. I'm sure it's not all easy on her either. We're all adjusting, and I trust we will all be better because of this move.

Looking again at my weird, let's break down these physical ailments... first things manifested emotionally where I had an intense desire to physically run, so I did, three times in the first week. My 14 week pregnant ass ran, on the treadmill, for the first time in at-least 6 months, it felt amazing, but it's stress-reliving properties were short lived, and I understood the correlation pretty quickly - I craved physically running like an addict, because I wanted to run emotionally. So, I journal-ed and hit up my least judgey and crazy-embracing friends. Days later, my first day back to work, while having to back out of two levels of parking garage, I managed to strain my neck, rotating out a couple discs in my cervical spine, and causing intense, breathe-taking, pain to my upper back and R shoulder. Do you know what the emotional connection to these injuries are? Shoulders are about burdens, responsibilities, and guilt. Upper back is emotional support. Neck is about processing our emotions. The right side is the masculine, initiating, and/or work related side. After shamefully hitting up my trainer and confessing my inability to do the workout for the second time this week, I hit up my chiropractor, got adjusted, bought some all-natural pain reliever cream and affirmed to myself, that I possess the ability to gracefully handle all the responsibilities in my life; I began to feel better. Three days later, while painfully attempting to get my mother discharged from the hospital and into a place where she could get physical and occupational therapy 5-7 times a week, I developed my acute sinus infection on the left side of my face - want to know that emotion that has to do with? Irritations with someone close to you, and the left side is all about the feminine, the receptive. Sure it could have been the case manager lady at the hospital who was on my last nerve, but because I suffered with sinus infections pretty much my entire childhood, only to have them entirely dissipate after moving away I typically correlate them with my family.

It's been an intense couple weeks. I have taken on much more responsibility, including at home because Sabrina switched jobs and shifts the day my Mother and I arrived. Of course she did, right?! I have felt guilt associated with being snarky with the people I love, missing work, missing my workouts, and eating myself sick for 2 days. I have been afraid of not having enough time and energy for all the responsibilities in my life, loosing myself in this process, and keeping my job. I have asked God for patience, strength, and compassion for myself and those around me. And I think this also may be about asking, or even more so, accepting help. I sit here under this moon, in my Mother's chair, hoping this raw out-pouring of my emotions and my truth somehow allow me to release what I need to release so that I can be a better daughter, wife, and Mother - more patient, more compassionate, and more confident in my abilities to handle the responsibilities off all those titles.

And maybe, just maybe, my honest admission of my weirdness will allow and help someone else to peer deeper into their own situation. After all, all paths lead back to the self. We are all striving, on some level to be and/or remain whole, balanced, and healthy.

With Grace & Gratitude...