As is well known, I've been on a million and two diets in the last 28 years or so since I first started worrying about my weight, and as you know, I've failed a million and two times. After failing something a million and two times it is extremely difficult to 1) try again and 2) believe in yourself about this particular thing.
Now, if one thing is common in EVERY SINGLE plan I've been on, it's this; they want to know your "why". WHY, WHY, WHY? For me, not that hard. There are a multitude of reasons WHY I want to lose weight.
I want to feel better
I want to look better
I want to wear pretty clothes
I want to be sexy
I don't want to get diabetes
I want to be able to keep up with the kids
I don't want to embarrass my kids with my weight
I want to fit in restaurant booths....comfortably
I don't ever again want the humiliation of being too fat to fit on a carnival ride
I want people to take me more seriously
I don't want people to look through me like I'm not there
I don't want people to think I'm lazy (I'm not)
I want my Asthma to improve
I want my cholesterol numbers to improve
I want my liver function to improve
I want to fart less (yes, I fart much less when I eat well!)
I don't want my skin to itch, itch, itch all the time.
I don't want to be a weird lumpy shape!
.... the list could go on and on and on and on. I have a trillion whys. There are that many small indignities in being FAT. So yes, all the plans have that in common. My whys are motivational for a while.. especially when I just start out and I am so disgusted with what I see in the mirror and so fed up with how bad I feel... but when I start losing weight and start feeling better, sometimes the whys don't scream so loudly and I lose motivation. This is why I am SO excited again about my new lifestyle living on planet Shibboleth.. once again, following the wisdom of God, Mr. Martin tackles things differently.
He asked me one very important question before asking about my whys. Travis asked me WHO.
"who are you?" he asked.
huh. I'm me. I'm Tanya. I'm mommy, I'm honey. I'm taxi. I'm booboo kisser, and schedule maker. I'm bill payer and I'm friend.
"No," he says. "not what are you, but WHO are you?"
Oh.
Who.
Good Question. It has some good answers that I was reminded of.
I am a child of God.
I am made in His Image
He is beautiful.
Therefore...
I am beautiful.
JUST. THE. WAY. I. AM
God loves me NOW.
God loves me FAT.
God loves me BROKEN.
GOD LOVES ME.
So who am I to look in the mirror with disgust? Who am I to criticize what God made in his perfect will? I am a beautiful creation and I am fearfully and wonderfully made. God lives within me and I am his temple.
Well, okay then.
My temple needs some repair.
It needs some Tender Loving Care.
It needs to be swept clean of filth and poison.
It needs to be nourished and loved
It needs to be glorifying to God.
I declare today. I LOVE MYSELF.
I LOVE MY LORD.
I love myself enough to nourish and take care of the temple God has given me.
I love myself enough to put God before and health before the lust of my flesh
I love myself enough to daily make the choices that will lead me to wholeness and health.
I love myself enough not to abuse this body
I love myself more than I love food
I love God more than I love food
I am me. That's who I am.
and I am Beautiful.
And I am worth it.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Sunday, February 16, 2014
False Guilt (or every day has enough guilt of it's own)
matthew 6:34 says Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own...
I've struggled with this, worrying. I am a mom after all and that is what we do best. I try to "let go and let God" with varying degrees of success, but this week I've been having another issue and I want to paraphrase the word a little by saying "each day has enough guilt of it's own" - I mean, seriously. If there is one thing we do almost as well as worrying, it is guilt. That feeling that we are never doing enough, well enough, or often enough to be what we should be.
So if feeling guilty for something I really can't help is bad, how about this; now I'm feeling guilty for something I'm not even guilty of! It's the food. It's the yummy, glorious, abundant food I am eating on this new lifestyle plan of Shibboleth. Specifically the french toast.
Oh, let me tell you the glory that is this french toast.
sweet, subtle, a little crisp on the outside, oh so creamy on the inside...a dollop of whipped cream on top, sprinkled with cinammon.. i can taste a hint of vanilla as I savor each bite. Oh goodness, As my favorite Christian comedian Tim Hawkins once said " Its like eating a baby angel!"
But here's the thing.Even though I am aware that this is a lifestyle plan, and not a "diet", my body and mind has been conditioned to think over the years of any kind of restricted eating as a "diet". Therefore my mind is saying "I'm going to go without. I'm going to be deprived, and what's more, everything is going to taste bad". Along with that comes the other conditioned beliefs "If it tastes good, especially if it's sweet, I'm cheating and i'm going to go straight to diet hell, and gain fifty pounds on my way down".
So,, back to the french toast.... Let me tell you what it's made of... two slices of Natures own double fiber wheat bread. On my new planet Shibboleth, inexcplicably, that bread is counted as a fibrous carb along with most VEGETABLES. Yes, my bread counts kind of like a vegetable. I know. It's like a wonderful parellel universe where bread is not EVIL, as long as it's the right kind. Okay, so moving on. Egg whites.1/2 cup. No problem. A splash of vanilla in the egg whites, Bread coated both sides and cooked in a frypan with a little PAM for a minute or two on each side. a sprinkle of cinammon.1/4 cup of sugar free syrup. I thought this would be a miniscule amount, but it is actually plenty for each bite to have syrup and leaves some on my plate at the end. This AMAZED me, because I am the girl at IHOP that adds more syrup several times as she eats her buttermilk pancakes. One thing I have realized is that 1/4 cup and 1/2 cup is actually more than you think it is! Of course, to just make it that much more awesome, fat free reddi whip that I can dollop on top in pretty little puffy clouds to make me feel like I'm being spoiled. According to the rules of planet Shibboleth, this is completely approved, right down to the whipped topping!
I've struggled with this, worrying. I am a mom after all and that is what we do best. I try to "let go and let God" with varying degrees of success, but this week I've been having another issue and I want to paraphrase the word a little by saying "each day has enough guilt of it's own" - I mean, seriously. If there is one thing we do almost as well as worrying, it is guilt. That feeling that we are never doing enough, well enough, or often enough to be what we should be.
So if feeling guilty for something I really can't help is bad, how about this; now I'm feeling guilty for something I'm not even guilty of! It's the food. It's the yummy, glorious, abundant food I am eating on this new lifestyle plan of Shibboleth. Specifically the french toast.
Oh, let me tell you the glory that is this french toast.
sweet, subtle, a little crisp on the outside, oh so creamy on the inside...a dollop of whipped cream on top, sprinkled with cinammon.. i can taste a hint of vanilla as I savor each bite. Oh goodness, As my favorite Christian comedian Tim Hawkins once said " Its like eating a baby angel!"
But here's the thing.Even though I am aware that this is a lifestyle plan, and not a "diet", my body and mind has been conditioned to think over the years of any kind of restricted eating as a "diet". Therefore my mind is saying "I'm going to go without. I'm going to be deprived, and what's more, everything is going to taste bad". Along with that comes the other conditioned beliefs "If it tastes good, especially if it's sweet, I'm cheating and i'm going to go straight to diet hell, and gain fifty pounds on my way down".
So,, back to the french toast.... Let me tell you what it's made of... two slices of Natures own double fiber wheat bread. On my new planet Shibboleth, inexcplicably, that bread is counted as a fibrous carb along with most VEGETABLES. Yes, my bread counts kind of like a vegetable. I know. It's like a wonderful parellel universe where bread is not EVIL, as long as it's the right kind. Okay, so moving on. Egg whites.1/2 cup. No problem. A splash of vanilla in the egg whites, Bread coated both sides and cooked in a frypan with a little PAM for a minute or two on each side. a sprinkle of cinammon.1/4 cup of sugar free syrup. I thought this would be a miniscule amount, but it is actually plenty for each bite to have syrup and leaves some on my plate at the end. This AMAZED me, because I am the girl at IHOP that adds more syrup several times as she eats her buttermilk pancakes. One thing I have realized is that 1/4 cup and 1/2 cup is actually more than you think it is! Of course, to just make it that much more awesome, fat free reddi whip that I can dollop on top in pretty little puffy clouds to make me feel like I'm being spoiled. According to the rules of planet Shibboleth, this is completely approved, right down to the whipped topping!
My diet brain can not comprehend this. It keeps saying "girl, you craycray.This is NOT diet food, and you will NOT lose weight eating anything this sweet, creamy and delicious". Well, is 8 pounds in 5 days not losing weight? My brain doesn't care. It says " This is a fluke, you eat this again and it's all over" As you can see, my brain is very talkative, and it usually doesn't say anything at all encouraging or helpful, so I have to put it in it's place a lot.. As I was cooking this particular dish again for the third time in 7 days I was having a nice little conversation with my brain. it went something like this....
Brain: oh oh, here she goes again, Little sugar addict. She's gonna ruin this plan before she even starts it.
Me: Brain, I would like to point out that this dish is made entirely of approved items, and are combined in appropriate and approved combinations.
Brain: But it's SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO good. You know if something seems to good to be true, it always is.
Me: well, maybe not always.
Brain: SMELL that.... mmmmmm. it smells heavenly! Smells SINFULLY good.
Me: this food is not a sin, it's a blessing.....
Brain: I'll believe it when I see it..
Me: well okay then.... I'll show you on the scale buster!
Brain: oh, she's getting scrappy!
Me: Shut up! I'm gonna eat.
Brain: Enjoy that fattening sweet goodness!
Me: grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
So you can see why i might sometimes struggle with this new lifestyle. I'm expecting it to be a DIEt. It's not. I'm expecting to be bored with my food. I'm not. I'm expecting to feel deprived. I'm not. I'm expecting to be hungry. I'm not. I'm expecting to be miserable. I'm not. I'm actually having fun. This is definately a first, but I'm finding learning to live on planet Shibboleth to be a fun journey. One I'm walking on with fun friends. I'm excited to see what tomorrow will bring, and I'm excited to see how this can work for me...So shut up brain. I do not WANT to feel guilty every time I eat this french toast, because there is nothing wrong with it at all! Right now my scripture of the day, every day is this much needed one as I try to purge years and years of dieting failure and dieting mindset from my life "do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind"... my mind doesn't like being renewed. it fights tooth and nail and is very stubborn, but I believe that it can be done, and I continue to work on it every single.day. And now.... for your viewing enjoyment... a little bit of french toast heaven on earth. Enjoy! there's no reason not to!
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Shame on me (or, get under my heel where you belong you devil!)
It's been a long time. Part of what held me back was stress and time, but the biggest thing that has held me back is shame. I've felt incredible shame. One of the things you risk when sharing your journey of life with others is the risk of public humiliation and failure. The risk of falling flat on your face infront of friends, family and strangers. For those of you who have been with me on this journey for a while, you will know that I very publicly went on a several months long diet and weight loss kick that resulted in me losing a good amount of weight and getting to just under 200 pounds. Then I kind of dropped off the planet. Well, that's because I fell on my face.
I found myself faced with a very stressful year, with a teen daughter I couldn't stop worrying about and inlaws falling very ill and requiring my time and energy (as long as a ton of my husband's time and energy), my Asperger's sweetheart boy about to start middle school woefully unprepared, and feeling all around like a horrible mom and a horrible wife and a horrible person in general. My comfort, as is my decades long habit, was food. I should have turned to Jesus, my husband, my friends, but I didn't. I turned to food, my old friend.
Soon I had regained the weight I lost, plus some. When I hit 250 pounds, my previous highest weight, I remembered when I had sworn I would never weigh more than that in my life. When I hit 260, I just cried. I was out of control and couldn't seem to do anything about it. My humiliation and my shame was crushing, but the thought of all the very hard work I did to lose some of the weight in the first place was overwhelming. I had exercised a lot and had to eat PERFECTLY to lose weight. It seems I couldn't have a treat once in a while without sabotaging the whole thing. The stress of having to be perfect in my eating, never being able to have a treat, and having to exercise so much just to slowly lose weight some weeks, and to gain some weeks despite my best efforts was very hard when I was in a great mindset. In this very stressful time of my life I frankly did not have the energy to even think about how to eat right, and when I thought of doing what I had done previously I just broke down crying. I couldn't face putting in all that work again and failing yet again. So I did nothing.
Well, that's not true. I did do some things. I stopped looking in the mirror unless I had to, because I hated what I saw there. I did start eating whatever I wanted, because what joy was there other than the pleasure of food? I did start sitting through most of worship at church because my back would give out on me trying to carry my massive stomach around. I did start breathing heavy after walking up stairs. I did start taking my asthma inhaler multiple times a day. I did make trips to walmart to buy ever bigger sizes of inexpensive shirts and leggings..... yeah, so I did do things, just nothing productive.
When I wasn't taking care of my family, much of my day was spent hating what I had become, so when my ever loving husband who has always been super supportive and who I know in my heart loves me no matter what my size is, started mentioning that we had to start losing weight,and told me I was starting to "waddle" and that I looked like "a swollen tic", I hit rock bottom. He wasn't meaning to hurt me, but his strength has never ever been tact. He wants me healthy and strong and to live long. He doesn't need me to be supermodel skinny. He just wants me healthy. I am thankful I have him, but when he said I looked like a "swollen tic" I was absolutely devastated. It wasn't something I didn't already know, but hearing it out of the mouth of the man who loves me unconditionally was absolutely earth shattering. I had never felt so hideous and unlovable.
I knew I had to do something, but I didn't know what I could do different this time. I didn't want to go back to the same thing that had been so hard the last time, but I certainly didn't want some crash diet that would just perpetuate the cycle I've been on for 30 years now. I had been watching a couple of my friends at church lose weight the last year or so, especially my one friend Nancy, who lost an incredible amount of weight in what seemed like no time at all. These friends talked of this new lifestyle program they were living and they all had one thing in common. They had a placid and peaceful expression on their faces. They looked calm and happy. When I asked about the program they would tell me snippets, but to my mind it sounded very complicated and despite their protestations that you caught on very quickly, it just seemed too overwhelming to consider. I saw it as another diet I would fail at. I was too scared to try something new, because I didn't have it in me to consider failing again, and there is nothing in my past to indicate long term success in weight loss was even a possibility for me.
Then last week my friend Deborah, who looks incredible by the way, set up a presentation by one of the leaders in this program. I decided to go and at least listen. For two hours I listened to a man named Tony Quinn talk about how this program had saved his life. I was bawling at many parts of it, because his story sounded like mine in many ways. The truths he spoke were truths from my life and from my pain. When I wasn't crying I was laughing, because he was so flippin' funny, but in the end I decided that maybe God was leading me to this program and that I should give it a try. At half off (I got a code from Tony) it was only 74$ for a whole year. That's incredibly inexpensive when you consider I spend more than that for only two months of weight watchers. Unfortunately, I didn't have 74$ and didn't see myself having it anytime soon. I emailed Tony and told him I desperately wanted to start this program and had taxes coming back in a month and could he please find me a sponsor until then. (He had mentioned sponsors being available). He wrote back and said if I would bring a willing mind and heart he would sponsor me himself. He signed me up the next morning, which was a saturday.
I spent all saturday listening to videos and reading and trying to figure out what I could eat. I spent sunday going to three grocery stores trying to find the foods I needed. I was almost ready to quit before I started. It seemed incredibly complicated, and I was worried I would never get it. Next thing I knew, I was signed up for the facebook group, and that is when it turned around for me. There were a ton of people, all happily living this program, who were more than happy to help me through my confusion. I know now that if I have a question, no matter how stupid or silly, there will be 50 people ready and willing to give me an answer at the drop of a hat. I have never met a more welcoming, positive, and helpful group of people.
I am on day three of the program. I have watched about twenty videos, all about 5 minutes in length. I have watched a couple of long videos, about an hour in length. I have taken a lot of notes. I have asked a lot of questions. If this were a diet I would be throwing my hands up in defeat and saying "this, this is NOT worth it", but it is so much more than that. This is a different PLANET. This program is a Christian ministry, and it is run like one. These people are THERE for you. You are celebrated for being a beautiful creation of a loving God. Yes, even at 260 pounds. Travis Martin, the one who conceived and birthed the program, is enthusiastic, funny, real, and flawed, just like me. The people who work with him are the same way. This is not a slick packaged diet program. This is people trying hard to help people stop killing themselves with food. Sometimes that lack of polish is frustrating. Travis will be holding up a product in a video and all of it but the very top of the package is off camera! I'm like, move it up, move it up! I can't see! However, to me, something about the lack of polish is comforting. I feel like I fit in. I don't feel that way very often.
The other aspect of the program that is wonderful to me, is that Travis says we can't do this without the Lord God! He recognizes that on HIM we depend for success in anything. He recognizes it is about transforming our minds as much as our bodies; that it is about what we feed our minds as well as what we feed our bodies. The more I learn about the program, the more I feel assured in my heart that this is what I've been looking for all along.
Why blog about it now, after three days? Why risk myself again in this public arena? Why not wait until I've had incredible success and then blog? Well, one reason is that I'm excited about it! Another reason is that I'm a writer at heart. Not writing, not putting my feelings down on paper, has in a way kept my emotions chained up inside me.... as my friend Julie puts it, "you HAVE to write, or you have shackles on". The most important reason though, is that after only a couple of days listening to Travis Martin I've realized that the shame is just a tool the devil uses to hold me back and squash me down. I'm a human being on a journey. All human beings fail. My failures happen to manifest in a fat body. Some failures manifest in symptoms you can't see on the outside, but everybody has failures. Everybody has secret shame, but keeping it a secret will eat you alive. I'm not going to be ashamed of trying and failing. The only shame I should really feel is if I never try at all, or if I give up entirely! I lost sight of that under the accusations of the devil this past year. Well, I'm done listening to you Satan! You can just go to Hell, where you belong. I'm listening to new, positive voices now, and they will help me remember to keep you in your place.
So my journey continues. This time its about more than shedding the weight. It is about shedding all the chains holding me back, mental, spiritual and physical. Step one is writing again. So here I am. read me if you want. What's important is that I'm here.
Oh, and what is this program you may ask... ??? It's called Shibboleth, but Shhhhh....it's a secret.
I found myself faced with a very stressful year, with a teen daughter I couldn't stop worrying about and inlaws falling very ill and requiring my time and energy (as long as a ton of my husband's time and energy), my Asperger's sweetheart boy about to start middle school woefully unprepared, and feeling all around like a horrible mom and a horrible wife and a horrible person in general. My comfort, as is my decades long habit, was food. I should have turned to Jesus, my husband, my friends, but I didn't. I turned to food, my old friend.
Soon I had regained the weight I lost, plus some. When I hit 250 pounds, my previous highest weight, I remembered when I had sworn I would never weigh more than that in my life. When I hit 260, I just cried. I was out of control and couldn't seem to do anything about it. My humiliation and my shame was crushing, but the thought of all the very hard work I did to lose some of the weight in the first place was overwhelming. I had exercised a lot and had to eat PERFECTLY to lose weight. It seems I couldn't have a treat once in a while without sabotaging the whole thing. The stress of having to be perfect in my eating, never being able to have a treat, and having to exercise so much just to slowly lose weight some weeks, and to gain some weeks despite my best efforts was very hard when I was in a great mindset. In this very stressful time of my life I frankly did not have the energy to even think about how to eat right, and when I thought of doing what I had done previously I just broke down crying. I couldn't face putting in all that work again and failing yet again. So I did nothing.
Well, that's not true. I did do some things. I stopped looking in the mirror unless I had to, because I hated what I saw there. I did start eating whatever I wanted, because what joy was there other than the pleasure of food? I did start sitting through most of worship at church because my back would give out on me trying to carry my massive stomach around. I did start breathing heavy after walking up stairs. I did start taking my asthma inhaler multiple times a day. I did make trips to walmart to buy ever bigger sizes of inexpensive shirts and leggings..... yeah, so I did do things, just nothing productive.
When I wasn't taking care of my family, much of my day was spent hating what I had become, so when my ever loving husband who has always been super supportive and who I know in my heart loves me no matter what my size is, started mentioning that we had to start losing weight,and told me I was starting to "waddle" and that I looked like "a swollen tic", I hit rock bottom. He wasn't meaning to hurt me, but his strength has never ever been tact. He wants me healthy and strong and to live long. He doesn't need me to be supermodel skinny. He just wants me healthy. I am thankful I have him, but when he said I looked like a "swollen tic" I was absolutely devastated. It wasn't something I didn't already know, but hearing it out of the mouth of the man who loves me unconditionally was absolutely earth shattering. I had never felt so hideous and unlovable.
I knew I had to do something, but I didn't know what I could do different this time. I didn't want to go back to the same thing that had been so hard the last time, but I certainly didn't want some crash diet that would just perpetuate the cycle I've been on for 30 years now. I had been watching a couple of my friends at church lose weight the last year or so, especially my one friend Nancy, who lost an incredible amount of weight in what seemed like no time at all. These friends talked of this new lifestyle program they were living and they all had one thing in common. They had a placid and peaceful expression on their faces. They looked calm and happy. When I asked about the program they would tell me snippets, but to my mind it sounded very complicated and despite their protestations that you caught on very quickly, it just seemed too overwhelming to consider. I saw it as another diet I would fail at. I was too scared to try something new, because I didn't have it in me to consider failing again, and there is nothing in my past to indicate long term success in weight loss was even a possibility for me.
Then last week my friend Deborah, who looks incredible by the way, set up a presentation by one of the leaders in this program. I decided to go and at least listen. For two hours I listened to a man named Tony Quinn talk about how this program had saved his life. I was bawling at many parts of it, because his story sounded like mine in many ways. The truths he spoke were truths from my life and from my pain. When I wasn't crying I was laughing, because he was so flippin' funny, but in the end I decided that maybe God was leading me to this program and that I should give it a try. At half off (I got a code from Tony) it was only 74$ for a whole year. That's incredibly inexpensive when you consider I spend more than that for only two months of weight watchers. Unfortunately, I didn't have 74$ and didn't see myself having it anytime soon. I emailed Tony and told him I desperately wanted to start this program and had taxes coming back in a month and could he please find me a sponsor until then. (He had mentioned sponsors being available). He wrote back and said if I would bring a willing mind and heart he would sponsor me himself. He signed me up the next morning, which was a saturday.
I spent all saturday listening to videos and reading and trying to figure out what I could eat. I spent sunday going to three grocery stores trying to find the foods I needed. I was almost ready to quit before I started. It seemed incredibly complicated, and I was worried I would never get it. Next thing I knew, I was signed up for the facebook group, and that is when it turned around for me. There were a ton of people, all happily living this program, who were more than happy to help me through my confusion. I know now that if I have a question, no matter how stupid or silly, there will be 50 people ready and willing to give me an answer at the drop of a hat. I have never met a more welcoming, positive, and helpful group of people.
I am on day three of the program. I have watched about twenty videos, all about 5 minutes in length. I have watched a couple of long videos, about an hour in length. I have taken a lot of notes. I have asked a lot of questions. If this were a diet I would be throwing my hands up in defeat and saying "this, this is NOT worth it", but it is so much more than that. This is a different PLANET. This program is a Christian ministry, and it is run like one. These people are THERE for you. You are celebrated for being a beautiful creation of a loving God. Yes, even at 260 pounds. Travis Martin, the one who conceived and birthed the program, is enthusiastic, funny, real, and flawed, just like me. The people who work with him are the same way. This is not a slick packaged diet program. This is people trying hard to help people stop killing themselves with food. Sometimes that lack of polish is frustrating. Travis will be holding up a product in a video and all of it but the very top of the package is off camera! I'm like, move it up, move it up! I can't see! However, to me, something about the lack of polish is comforting. I feel like I fit in. I don't feel that way very often.
The other aspect of the program that is wonderful to me, is that Travis says we can't do this without the Lord God! He recognizes that on HIM we depend for success in anything. He recognizes it is about transforming our minds as much as our bodies; that it is about what we feed our minds as well as what we feed our bodies. The more I learn about the program, the more I feel assured in my heart that this is what I've been looking for all along.
Why blog about it now, after three days? Why risk myself again in this public arena? Why not wait until I've had incredible success and then blog? Well, one reason is that I'm excited about it! Another reason is that I'm a writer at heart. Not writing, not putting my feelings down on paper, has in a way kept my emotions chained up inside me.... as my friend Julie puts it, "you HAVE to write, or you have shackles on". The most important reason though, is that after only a couple of days listening to Travis Martin I've realized that the shame is just a tool the devil uses to hold me back and squash me down. I'm a human being on a journey. All human beings fail. My failures happen to manifest in a fat body. Some failures manifest in symptoms you can't see on the outside, but everybody has failures. Everybody has secret shame, but keeping it a secret will eat you alive. I'm not going to be ashamed of trying and failing. The only shame I should really feel is if I never try at all, or if I give up entirely! I lost sight of that under the accusations of the devil this past year. Well, I'm done listening to you Satan! You can just go to Hell, where you belong. I'm listening to new, positive voices now, and they will help me remember to keep you in your place.
So my journey continues. This time its about more than shedding the weight. It is about shedding all the chains holding me back, mental, spiritual and physical. Step one is writing again. So here I am. read me if you want. What's important is that I'm here.
Oh, and what is this program you may ask... ??? It's called Shibboleth, but Shhhhh....it's a secret.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
I don't understand anymore (or, how many pieces can a mommy's heart break into?)
I was ordering some new checks this morning. I decided on Autism Awareness checks, because a portion went to support autism awareness and acceptance, and as a mother of an autistic son, it seemed the right thing to do.
My life is so busy and crazy I seldom slow down to just think, but while ordering the checks I got to thinking about all the challenges Sammy is facing as he grows older with Autism. I got to thinking about this special little boy, and all we've been through together, and my heart started breaking.
I adore and love all my children, both natural and those God blessed me with through marriage, but if I'm to be truthful, there is a little spot in the corner of my heart that my firstborn took when he was born that belongs only to him and Jesus ( I mean, Jesus gets all of it...that's just the way it is!). I can't help it. It just is.
Since the day he was born, Sammy and I have been.... sympatico. No other word for it. We understood each other in a deep way. I sensed his needs and he sensed mine. I was his home base. He was my touchstone. I knew what he was thinking, and why he was thinking it. He was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome around age 5, and in learning about Asperger's -which is part of the autistic spectrum- I learned even more about how he ticks. I could always help him. I could calm him down, bring him around, cheer him up, and make him smile. He could take the worst day and turn it around just by saying something sweet. Yes, definately he is a mama's boy, and I'm okay with that.
Lately, it's been different.
He's 11 now, and the challenges he is facing are greater than they were. The school work is harder, the social interactions are more complex. The sarcasm, jokes, and innuendos are all around him and often so subtle (and so hard for Asperger's kids to understand!). He's more aware of his own limitations brought on by the Autism, and more frustrated by them.
The worst thing of all.
I can't make it better anymore.
Take homework for example. He will freeze up. It's like he literally just can not even put the pencil to the paper. It isn't that he doesn't know the stuff, he does. He just CAN'T DO IT right then. He doesn't know why, I don't know why, and nothing I do or say can make it better (although often I can make it worse if I'm not careful!). He can't do it, but he doesn't want to put it up because he doesn't want to go to school without it done, so we will have a boy sitting infront of a text book and paper for three hours, tearing at his face and hair with his little fists that even at 11 still have little dimples in the knuckles like a baby. His face will be screwed up in anguish and I know he is suffering personal demons that I just don't understand anymore. It's the first time in my life I haven't 'got' him completely. All I can do is pray over him and hope it passes.
I realized recently that he struggles greatly with assignments where he has to write something personal. I questioned him extensively and finally came to the conclusion that anything attached to emotions are hard for him to write about. In a way this makes sense.. he feels VERY deeply, I have no question of that. His love for me is not in question, his compassion for people is not in question. I know this because I know him, but his actions don't always match up with his feelings. Something where you or I would instinctively know called for giving someone a hug, might cause Sammy to get up and walk into another room. Things for him are either "the best thing in the world" or "the worst thing in the world". Everything is very black and white, good and evil. Sometimes he gets it right, sometimes he doesn't. He watches others, and he mimics them. This is how he learns how to relate to people, because it isn't something natural and instinctive inside him. Talk about pressure. I feel as if I have to be the best possible role model, because I am the only thing that tells him how to act around others.
Recently he has been trying sarcasm. I've had to advise him to just stop for the time being. Sarcasm done wrong isn't funny, it's just mean. He most of the time comes out sounding mean or rude. He doesn't have a good enough grasp of 1) what sarcasm is and 2) human beings and how they work to even begin to pull it off. My 9 year old girl can pull of sarcasm with grace and make you bust up laughing when she does it. She is quick witted and has a gift with being rude in a funny enough way that you don't really mind. Also, she knows when it's appropriate (at home with our family, with her best friend) and when it's not (with your teacher or somebody who doesn't like you much, or when you are in trouble!). For Sammy, those things are often beyond his grasp.
And now, Sammy is beyond my grasp. I can't always make him feel better. I don't always understand what is going on in his mind anymore. The disease - disorder - syndrome - whatever you want to call it - the DIFFERENCE in his brain has outdistanced my understanding. I get him therapy, and I pray for him a LOT, and I love him with everything I have. I try not to lose my patience with him when I'm losing my patience with the Aspergers. Sometimes I fail, but mostly I do okay. It can be really really frustrating. We are blessed with an understanding school, and wonderful understanding teachers he's had since day one. That helps so much. Mrs. Williams will modify homework so he can write about an imaginary person instead of himself, and the days where that pencil just won't touch that paper and after two hours I just pull the book out of his stiff hands, wipe his tears and make him sit and watch a tv show with the family so he can relax his muscles before bed - well those days I will write a note and Mrs. Williams will give him grace.
I know that the world out there doesn't give much grace. I know that one day a job won't care if his mind is freezing up. College won't care if his assignment freaks him out on 10 different levels. The world doesn't care about my Sammy. I have to prepare him for that world, and so we keep moving forward, keep him in therapy, keep helping him to grow and stretch and deal with the discomfort that is his mental world.
But my heart is breaking.
I just want to hold him, and make it all better. I just want him to not have to worry about this. There are enough worries in the world without having a brain that won't work WITH you to cope with it. I feel so deeply for the invisible illnesses out there. For those with crippling depression, high functioning autism - where you aren't necessarily seen as handicapped - and so just end up being WEIRD. Chronic pain like Lupus - disorders where you walk around and on the outside you look normal, but on the inside you have a daily struggle just to keep on keeping on and hold it all together.
Oh Sammy, how I wish I could knock down the wall of Asperger's that is growing between us - how I wish I could live in your brain for a day so I could better understand you, and the young man you are becoming.
Mommy misses the sympatico. It's just not there like it once was. As you grow more complex and fascinating, you grow more complicated and unknowable at the same time. Your pain is yours alone and you don't seem able to share it anymore.
My arms are always open, mommy will always be here. No matter how complicated it gets. I love you Sammy.
My life is so busy and crazy I seldom slow down to just think, but while ordering the checks I got to thinking about all the challenges Sammy is facing as he grows older with Autism. I got to thinking about this special little boy, and all we've been through together, and my heart started breaking.
I adore and love all my children, both natural and those God blessed me with through marriage, but if I'm to be truthful, there is a little spot in the corner of my heart that my firstborn took when he was born that belongs only to him and Jesus ( I mean, Jesus gets all of it...that's just the way it is!). I can't help it. It just is.
Since the day he was born, Sammy and I have been.... sympatico. No other word for it. We understood each other in a deep way. I sensed his needs and he sensed mine. I was his home base. He was my touchstone. I knew what he was thinking, and why he was thinking it. He was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome around age 5, and in learning about Asperger's -which is part of the autistic spectrum- I learned even more about how he ticks. I could always help him. I could calm him down, bring him around, cheer him up, and make him smile. He could take the worst day and turn it around just by saying something sweet. Yes, definately he is a mama's boy, and I'm okay with that.
Lately, it's been different.
He's 11 now, and the challenges he is facing are greater than they were. The school work is harder, the social interactions are more complex. The sarcasm, jokes, and innuendos are all around him and often so subtle (and so hard for Asperger's kids to understand!). He's more aware of his own limitations brought on by the Autism, and more frustrated by them.
The worst thing of all.
I can't make it better anymore.
Take homework for example. He will freeze up. It's like he literally just can not even put the pencil to the paper. It isn't that he doesn't know the stuff, he does. He just CAN'T DO IT right then. He doesn't know why, I don't know why, and nothing I do or say can make it better (although often I can make it worse if I'm not careful!). He can't do it, but he doesn't want to put it up because he doesn't want to go to school without it done, so we will have a boy sitting infront of a text book and paper for three hours, tearing at his face and hair with his little fists that even at 11 still have little dimples in the knuckles like a baby. His face will be screwed up in anguish and I know he is suffering personal demons that I just don't understand anymore. It's the first time in my life I haven't 'got' him completely. All I can do is pray over him and hope it passes.
I realized recently that he struggles greatly with assignments where he has to write something personal. I questioned him extensively and finally came to the conclusion that anything attached to emotions are hard for him to write about. In a way this makes sense.. he feels VERY deeply, I have no question of that. His love for me is not in question, his compassion for people is not in question. I know this because I know him, but his actions don't always match up with his feelings. Something where you or I would instinctively know called for giving someone a hug, might cause Sammy to get up and walk into another room. Things for him are either "the best thing in the world" or "the worst thing in the world". Everything is very black and white, good and evil. Sometimes he gets it right, sometimes he doesn't. He watches others, and he mimics them. This is how he learns how to relate to people, because it isn't something natural and instinctive inside him. Talk about pressure. I feel as if I have to be the best possible role model, because I am the only thing that tells him how to act around others.
Recently he has been trying sarcasm. I've had to advise him to just stop for the time being. Sarcasm done wrong isn't funny, it's just mean. He most of the time comes out sounding mean or rude. He doesn't have a good enough grasp of 1) what sarcasm is and 2) human beings and how they work to even begin to pull it off. My 9 year old girl can pull of sarcasm with grace and make you bust up laughing when she does it. She is quick witted and has a gift with being rude in a funny enough way that you don't really mind. Also, she knows when it's appropriate (at home with our family, with her best friend) and when it's not (with your teacher or somebody who doesn't like you much, or when you are in trouble!). For Sammy, those things are often beyond his grasp.
And now, Sammy is beyond my grasp. I can't always make him feel better. I don't always understand what is going on in his mind anymore. The disease - disorder - syndrome - whatever you want to call it - the DIFFERENCE in his brain has outdistanced my understanding. I get him therapy, and I pray for him a LOT, and I love him with everything I have. I try not to lose my patience with him when I'm losing my patience with the Aspergers. Sometimes I fail, but mostly I do okay. It can be really really frustrating. We are blessed with an understanding school, and wonderful understanding teachers he's had since day one. That helps so much. Mrs. Williams will modify homework so he can write about an imaginary person instead of himself, and the days where that pencil just won't touch that paper and after two hours I just pull the book out of his stiff hands, wipe his tears and make him sit and watch a tv show with the family so he can relax his muscles before bed - well those days I will write a note and Mrs. Williams will give him grace.
I know that the world out there doesn't give much grace. I know that one day a job won't care if his mind is freezing up. College won't care if his assignment freaks him out on 10 different levels. The world doesn't care about my Sammy. I have to prepare him for that world, and so we keep moving forward, keep him in therapy, keep helping him to grow and stretch and deal with the discomfort that is his mental world.
But my heart is breaking.
I just want to hold him, and make it all better. I just want him to not have to worry about this. There are enough worries in the world without having a brain that won't work WITH you to cope with it. I feel so deeply for the invisible illnesses out there. For those with crippling depression, high functioning autism - where you aren't necessarily seen as handicapped - and so just end up being WEIRD. Chronic pain like Lupus - disorders where you walk around and on the outside you look normal, but on the inside you have a daily struggle just to keep on keeping on and hold it all together.
Oh Sammy, how I wish I could knock down the wall of Asperger's that is growing between us - how I wish I could live in your brain for a day so I could better understand you, and the young man you are becoming.
Mommy misses the sympatico. It's just not there like it once was. As you grow more complex and fascinating, you grow more complicated and unknowable at the same time. Your pain is yours alone and you don't seem able to share it anymore.
My arms are always open, mommy will always be here. No matter how complicated it gets. I love you Sammy.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Never, never, never, give up. (or, did I mention that you should not give up?)
I almost gave up there for a minute.
I think it started on my daughters 15th birthday on the 14th of August with this Perry the platypus cake I made.
Isn't it cute? Yeah, it was also really huge (it took me 3.5 sheet cakes to make it), and most devastatingly, extremely yummy. I allowed myself one small piece. Then every time I opened the fridge he was staring at me saying "eat me, I'm yummy". My willpower crumbled to pieces and I listened to the call of Perry for a good three or four days until the cake was gone, largely eaten by yours truly. Did I mention it had raspberry jam between the layers??? MMMMM.
So here's what you need to know about me and sugar. I'm truly an addict. I have this tipping point I've noticed over the years as I've tried so many times to conquer this enemy. I can eat a little pure sugar, but as soon as I hit this point of no return it is like it triggers an avalanche and I can't stop. I want to stop. I know as I eat the food, or buy the food, that I really need to stop, but I just can't seem to. I know I'm going backwards, falling off the wagon, digging myself a pit, but I can't bring myself to care when the lure of the sugary treat is in front of me. This is what happened after my cake binge... my sugar cravings came back in such force I was almost crippled by them. If it was in the house and it was sweet, I would eat it. Sometimes I would cry as I ate it, knowing it was a mistake. Wishing I could stop. My strength was gone.
Dominos.
That's what it's like. You don't feel good because you aren't eating right, so you don't want to go to the gym because you feel tired and sluggish and just bad about yourself... you don't exercise so you are even more tired and sluggish and when it's time to eat you just grab the nearest (sweet) thing. Too much thought to try to think of something healthy. Too much work to make it. Now you are getting depressed and discouraged because you've done so badly.
Dominos. Crashing down.
This is where I was Sunday at church. Depressed and crashing and out of control completely. Just a few weeks post Biggest Loser win, I was truly feeling like a real loser. Each morning I'd vow to get back on track and each morning I'd eat an oatmeal creme cake (or two) and cry. I know that sounds completely pitiful, but anyone who has ever been in the grip of any kind of addiction can attest to the fact that when it is in control, it is in control - and you are entirely out of control. Some people don't believe you can have a sugar addiction, or a food addiction, and to those people I just respectfully will have to agree to disagree. This is something that has had me in it's grip for the better part of 25 years now. I've tried repeatedly to conquer it, and I've repeatedly lost the battle. I've repeatedly given up because it was too hard, and too painful, and took just so much of my energy. I've repeatedly felt the fear of wondering if I was just going to slowly and methodically eat myself to death. I've been committing suicide the slow way for more than half of my life.
I cried out to my friends on sunday at church. I begged them to pray for me. They did. They are, and one of those friends (I love you Julie) texted me and asked me look up all the scriptures I could find on strength in the bible and to pick one or two that spoke to me and to post them in my house.
This one especially spoke to me: He gives strength to the weary and increases the strength of the weak. Isaiah 40:29
I am weary, and I am weak. He gives strength to me. It's a promise. He increases my strength. It's a promise. Oh Jesus, how I love you. I don't have to be strong, because you will be strong for me.
It was freeing somehow. I decided to face the facts and see where my three week binge had gotten me. My trainer said "no, Tanya, don't do it!" but I assured her that my head was in the right place now to deal with what I saw on the scale. I had gotten to 199.8. This morning I was 206.2. Okay, big deal. 6.5 pounds more or less. I can take care of that in two weeks of training and eating right. It wasn't as bad a gain as I had imagined it was going to be.
All the oatmeal creme pies are gone. I ate them. I won't be getting any more and my hubby has promised not to bring any in the house either. There are no other snacks in the house I can't resist. I'm set up for success. I read a poster this morning, and it said "The beginning is always the hardest. If you are tired of starting over, stop giving up!"
Yeah, I'll be putting that on the wall too.
This time, unlike all the other times, I will never give up. No matter what my setbacks I will remember that I am fighting for my life, literally. This addiction will kill me slow or kill me fast, but it will kill me if I don't take it on, and with the help of God, beat it once and for all.
Back on the wagon. Sometimes I wish I could go cold turkey on food. But obviously, THAT would not end well. I'm back at the gym. Monday to Friday. I'm committed. The food I am working on. I don't know if it will ever stop being a battle, but I'm encouraged to remember that my strength does not come from me, but from the one who never grows weary or faints. When I fall, He will pick me up, and he will never quit on me. So I'm never going to quit on him. Yep, back in the saddle girl.
Never, never, never, never, never, never quit. You'll just have to start all over again.
I think it started on my daughters 15th birthday on the 14th of August with this Perry the platypus cake I made.
So here's what you need to know about me and sugar. I'm truly an addict. I have this tipping point I've noticed over the years as I've tried so many times to conquer this enemy. I can eat a little pure sugar, but as soon as I hit this point of no return it is like it triggers an avalanche and I can't stop. I want to stop. I know as I eat the food, or buy the food, that I really need to stop, but I just can't seem to. I know I'm going backwards, falling off the wagon, digging myself a pit, but I can't bring myself to care when the lure of the sugary treat is in front of me. This is what happened after my cake binge... my sugar cravings came back in such force I was almost crippled by them. If it was in the house and it was sweet, I would eat it. Sometimes I would cry as I ate it, knowing it was a mistake. Wishing I could stop. My strength was gone.
Dominos.
That's what it's like. You don't feel good because you aren't eating right, so you don't want to go to the gym because you feel tired and sluggish and just bad about yourself... you don't exercise so you are even more tired and sluggish and when it's time to eat you just grab the nearest (sweet) thing. Too much thought to try to think of something healthy. Too much work to make it. Now you are getting depressed and discouraged because you've done so badly.
Dominos. Crashing down.
This is where I was Sunday at church. Depressed and crashing and out of control completely. Just a few weeks post Biggest Loser win, I was truly feeling like a real loser. Each morning I'd vow to get back on track and each morning I'd eat an oatmeal creme cake (or two) and cry. I know that sounds completely pitiful, but anyone who has ever been in the grip of any kind of addiction can attest to the fact that when it is in control, it is in control - and you are entirely out of control. Some people don't believe you can have a sugar addiction, or a food addiction, and to those people I just respectfully will have to agree to disagree. This is something that has had me in it's grip for the better part of 25 years now. I've tried repeatedly to conquer it, and I've repeatedly lost the battle. I've repeatedly given up because it was too hard, and too painful, and took just so much of my energy. I've repeatedly felt the fear of wondering if I was just going to slowly and methodically eat myself to death. I've been committing suicide the slow way for more than half of my life.
I cried out to my friends on sunday at church. I begged them to pray for me. They did. They are, and one of those friends (I love you Julie) texted me and asked me look up all the scriptures I could find on strength in the bible and to pick one or two that spoke to me and to post them in my house.
This one especially spoke to me: He gives strength to the weary and increases the strength of the weak. Isaiah 40:29
I am weary, and I am weak. He gives strength to me. It's a promise. He increases my strength. It's a promise. Oh Jesus, how I love you. I don't have to be strong, because you will be strong for me.
It was freeing somehow. I decided to face the facts and see where my three week binge had gotten me. My trainer said "no, Tanya, don't do it!" but I assured her that my head was in the right place now to deal with what I saw on the scale. I had gotten to 199.8. This morning I was 206.2. Okay, big deal. 6.5 pounds more or less. I can take care of that in two weeks of training and eating right. It wasn't as bad a gain as I had imagined it was going to be.
All the oatmeal creme pies are gone. I ate them. I won't be getting any more and my hubby has promised not to bring any in the house either. There are no other snacks in the house I can't resist. I'm set up for success. I read a poster this morning, and it said "The beginning is always the hardest. If you are tired of starting over, stop giving up!"
Yeah, I'll be putting that on the wall too.
This time, unlike all the other times, I will never give up. No matter what my setbacks I will remember that I am fighting for my life, literally. This addiction will kill me slow or kill me fast, but it will kill me if I don't take it on, and with the help of God, beat it once and for all.
Back on the wagon. Sometimes I wish I could go cold turkey on food. But obviously, THAT would not end well. I'm back at the gym. Monday to Friday. I'm committed. The food I am working on. I don't know if it will ever stop being a battle, but I'm encouraged to remember that my strength does not come from me, but from the one who never grows weary or faints. When I fall, He will pick me up, and he will never quit on me. So I'm never going to quit on him. Yep, back in the saddle girl.
Never, never, never, never, never, never quit. You'll just have to start all over again.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
I'm a loser baby! (so why don't you read me)
Well, after 3 arduous months that I'm pretty sure were about 60 days each, the Biggest Loser Challenge at my gym is finally officially over!
And it's official. I am a big loser. Infact, I am the Biggest Loser. I WON!!!
My final weigh in, which happened yesterday, Friday August 10th, was.....drum roll please.
199.6 pounds!
WHAT????!!!!! unreal! I had to weigh myself twice and get the exact same weight before I would accept it, because the day before I had weighed myself and I was 4.5 pounds heavier than that! Evidently I had eaten something salty the day before. Water weight is my nemesis!
If I still weigh in at under 200 next week I will truly celebrate being in ONE-derland, but I still remain suspicious of my body and it's quirks. Meanwhile though, I can celebrate. At 199.6 or at 205, I still won the challenge. I blew my competition away! Here's the stats!
My starting weight at the beginning of this journey (March): 242 pounds
My starting weight at the beginning of this challenge(May): 224 pounds
My weight at the end of the challenge (Aug 10): 199.6 pounds
Total weight Loss to date: 42.4 pounds
Total lost during challenge: 24.4 pounds
Theres some other exciting stats:
Since March 6th I've lost:
5.5 inches around my waist
5.0 inches around my chest
6.5 inches around my hips
2.5 inches in my thigh
1 inch in my arm
1 inch in my neck.
Not only have I lost inches, but I've gained muscle. I've never felt as strong as I do now. I have never felt a bicep muscle in my arm in my life until the last month or so, and though it's still buried under some fat, you can actually feel the hard lump of muscle in there! My Abs and back are getting stronger, my endurance is getting better. My calves are downright sexy, if I do say so myself! Slowly and surely I'm building my health and strength and losing the unhealthy layers of fat.
My BMI has gone from a 42 to a 34. Still way above where it needs to be, but no longer in that imminent death by heart attack zone.
I've been on this journey for 5 months, and though I have a long long way to go, I've come a long way too!! I've learned so much about myself, and have much more I know I will learn. This is as much, or more of, a mental journey than it is a physical one. The farther I get the more I realize that my mindset is everything.
I give glory to God in the highest for helping me to transform my mind throughout this journey, and pray he will continue to help me have a deeper understanding of why it is so important on so many levels for me to follow through on this commitment and lifestyle change.
Now that I have celebrated, I want to discuss something else that's been on my mind.
FEAR.
What's fear got to do with it? For the last month of this challenge I've been fighting over about 5 pounds. Gaining, losing, gaining, losing. I keep sabatoging myself with food. When the pressure is on to finish strong, I whimper and lose momentum. I struggle mightily and berate myself and wonder why, with all eyes on me, I can't stick to a simple diet for a few weeks longer. I had this goal to get under 200 and I thought it would be a piece of cake, but I still think it was a fluke that I made it at all, and squeaked in at 199.6 yesterday. I haven't been doing what I need to do to lose that weight. I've been trying, but I've been messing up. I've been tracking religiously every day, these last few weeks, I miss more days tracking than not. I've been exercising monday to friday for 5 months. The last few weeks I've missed two or three days. I've been exercising self control with snacking and sweets. The last few weeks, not so much. I won't just have that treat, I'll have it twice. I'm telling you, it's self sabatoge, and as I eat the food I KNOW it is! However, I don't seem to be able to stop myself. I have this internal dialog AS I eat the food. I argue wih myself about the calories and if I "deserve it or not, and I make all sorts of excuses and I refute the excuses. I swear sometimes there are two people inside me, these conversations get so lively!
My trainer and friend Melissa suggested that I have been scared to hit that under 200 milestone. She said maybe part of me feels safe where I am. I've visited this thought many times in my life. I lost over 70 pounds a few years back, and right after I did, my husband left me for another woman, took me to court, and tried to take my kids from me. I gained it back and more to add to the pot (belly that is). There is sexual abuse in my past. I have often heard that victime of abuse "hide" behind their fat. I have explored these things, and I truly don't know if my subconcious is telling me, "lose the weight and Josh will leave you too! Men will be attracted to you and you won't be safe!" The subconcious is a tricky tricky thing. It doesn't matter how much your rational mind tells you what a bunch of hooey those thoughts are, your primitive reactive mind will think what it will. Sometimes I just think I love to eat, love food, and feel deprived not eating it. Maybe that's all there is to it. Maybe there is no deeper psychological thing going on, but my heart tells me its more than just that. If it was just that I didn't want to be deprived, I could work in treats on a regular schedule to my diet (and I have done that on this journey) and be perfectly happy. The reason I think there is more going in is because I get to these points where I just can't stop. I get obsessed with the thoughts of the foods I want and I will eat it to excess. I remember being this way for many years. I can eat an incredible volume of food, especially if it's bad for me. I feel completely unsatisfied with a small portion of anything. Much of my diet planning is me trying to figure out how to get the most food for the least calories. I want and crave volume.
I feel almost at an impasse, to where I am considering going for some professional counselling. I know I have these impulses and feelings, I know some of them are not natural nor healthy. I think I might be deeply afraid of succeeding. Maybe more than I am of failing. I know one thing, I want to get to the bottom of it, and I want to understand what is driving me once and for all, and I want to conquer it,whatever it may be. I don't necessarily like self discovery. It's hard, and it hurts more times than not, but I am determined not to end up back where I started yet again in my life. I'm sick of looping around and around. I want to keep moving FORWARD. I want to FACE MY FEARS. With God's help, I want to face them down and overcome them, whatever they may be.
I think what I do in the next few months will be critical to my success or failure. I think the mental work will be the hardest, but the one I really need to face straight on and tackle. I don't want to be writing a year from now how I've gained back all the weight and I'm trying to lose it again. A year from now I want to be speaking to and inspiring others in their own health journeys, proving to them that it can be done if you are honest enough to ask yourself the tough questions and strong enough to face the answers head on.
Keep on praying for me friends. The best (and hardest) part is yet to come.
And it's official. I am a big loser. Infact, I am the Biggest Loser. I WON!!!
My final weigh in, which happened yesterday, Friday August 10th, was.....drum roll please.
199.6 pounds!
WHAT????!!!!! unreal! I had to weigh myself twice and get the exact same weight before I would accept it, because the day before I had weighed myself and I was 4.5 pounds heavier than that! Evidently I had eaten something salty the day before. Water weight is my nemesis!
If I still weigh in at under 200 next week I will truly celebrate being in ONE-derland, but I still remain suspicious of my body and it's quirks. Meanwhile though, I can celebrate. At 199.6 or at 205, I still won the challenge. I blew my competition away! Here's the stats!
My starting weight at the beginning of this journey (March): 242 pounds
My starting weight at the beginning of this challenge(May): 224 pounds
My weight at the end of the challenge (Aug 10): 199.6 pounds
Total weight Loss to date: 42.4 pounds
Total lost during challenge: 24.4 pounds
Theres some other exciting stats:
Since March 6th I've lost:
5.5 inches around my waist
5.0 inches around my chest
6.5 inches around my hips
2.5 inches in my thigh
1 inch in my arm
1 inch in my neck.
Not only have I lost inches, but I've gained muscle. I've never felt as strong as I do now. I have never felt a bicep muscle in my arm in my life until the last month or so, and though it's still buried under some fat, you can actually feel the hard lump of muscle in there! My Abs and back are getting stronger, my endurance is getting better. My calves are downright sexy, if I do say so myself! Slowly and surely I'm building my health and strength and losing the unhealthy layers of fat.
My BMI has gone from a 42 to a 34. Still way above where it needs to be, but no longer in that imminent death by heart attack zone.
I've been on this journey for 5 months, and though I have a long long way to go, I've come a long way too!! I've learned so much about myself, and have much more I know I will learn. This is as much, or more of, a mental journey than it is a physical one. The farther I get the more I realize that my mindset is everything.
I give glory to God in the highest for helping me to transform my mind throughout this journey, and pray he will continue to help me have a deeper understanding of why it is so important on so many levels for me to follow through on this commitment and lifestyle change.
Now that I have celebrated, I want to discuss something else that's been on my mind.
FEAR.
What's fear got to do with it? For the last month of this challenge I've been fighting over about 5 pounds. Gaining, losing, gaining, losing. I keep sabatoging myself with food. When the pressure is on to finish strong, I whimper and lose momentum. I struggle mightily and berate myself and wonder why, with all eyes on me, I can't stick to a simple diet for a few weeks longer. I had this goal to get under 200 and I thought it would be a piece of cake, but I still think it was a fluke that I made it at all, and squeaked in at 199.6 yesterday. I haven't been doing what I need to do to lose that weight. I've been trying, but I've been messing up. I've been tracking religiously every day, these last few weeks, I miss more days tracking than not. I've been exercising monday to friday for 5 months. The last few weeks I've missed two or three days. I've been exercising self control with snacking and sweets. The last few weeks, not so much. I won't just have that treat, I'll have it twice. I'm telling you, it's self sabatoge, and as I eat the food I KNOW it is! However, I don't seem to be able to stop myself. I have this internal dialog AS I eat the food. I argue wih myself about the calories and if I "deserve it or not, and I make all sorts of excuses and I refute the excuses. I swear sometimes there are two people inside me, these conversations get so lively!
My trainer and friend Melissa suggested that I have been scared to hit that under 200 milestone. She said maybe part of me feels safe where I am. I've visited this thought many times in my life. I lost over 70 pounds a few years back, and right after I did, my husband left me for another woman, took me to court, and tried to take my kids from me. I gained it back and more to add to the pot (belly that is). There is sexual abuse in my past. I have often heard that victime of abuse "hide" behind their fat. I have explored these things, and I truly don't know if my subconcious is telling me, "lose the weight and Josh will leave you too! Men will be attracted to you and you won't be safe!" The subconcious is a tricky tricky thing. It doesn't matter how much your rational mind tells you what a bunch of hooey those thoughts are, your primitive reactive mind will think what it will. Sometimes I just think I love to eat, love food, and feel deprived not eating it. Maybe that's all there is to it. Maybe there is no deeper psychological thing going on, but my heart tells me its more than just that. If it was just that I didn't want to be deprived, I could work in treats on a regular schedule to my diet (and I have done that on this journey) and be perfectly happy. The reason I think there is more going in is because I get to these points where I just can't stop. I get obsessed with the thoughts of the foods I want and I will eat it to excess. I remember being this way for many years. I can eat an incredible volume of food, especially if it's bad for me. I feel completely unsatisfied with a small portion of anything. Much of my diet planning is me trying to figure out how to get the most food for the least calories. I want and crave volume.
I feel almost at an impasse, to where I am considering going for some professional counselling. I know I have these impulses and feelings, I know some of them are not natural nor healthy. I think I might be deeply afraid of succeeding. Maybe more than I am of failing. I know one thing, I want to get to the bottom of it, and I want to understand what is driving me once and for all, and I want to conquer it,whatever it may be. I don't necessarily like self discovery. It's hard, and it hurts more times than not, but I am determined not to end up back where I started yet again in my life. I'm sick of looping around and around. I want to keep moving FORWARD. I want to FACE MY FEARS. With God's help, I want to face them down and overcome them, whatever they may be.
I think what I do in the next few months will be critical to my success or failure. I think the mental work will be the hardest, but the one I really need to face straight on and tackle. I don't want to be writing a year from now how I've gained back all the weight and I'm trying to lose it again. A year from now I want to be speaking to and inspiring others in their own health journeys, proving to them that it can be done if you are honest enough to ask yourself the tough questions and strong enough to face the answers head on.
Keep on praying for me friends. The best (and hardest) part is yet to come.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
short post, but I need to get it out. (0r what the heck? where did my muscles go?)
I felt I needed to say something about what I have learned since my roller skating debacle last week. Evidently, when your body is healing itself it takes every ounce of energy you ever had and decides to use it for those purposes.
My trainer says it is just because I'm healing, and possibly mixed up with that, that my wonderful hormonal time of the month is approaching, but that I'll get my strength back soon enough. Meanwhile, however, she has dropped my weight on my exercises to next to nothing, and I can barely get through them. I had to quit my hour walk on the treadmill yesterday at 41 minutes because my legs were buckling and I was losing my balance, and this after I first had to reduce my speed from my normal speedy (ha!) 3.0 miles an hour to 2.8 then 2.5 miles an hour, and reduce the hill program from level 13, to 11, to 10.
REALLY? WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?
I realize I had begun to feel strong, and that I now really dislike feeling weak!
I didn't think trying to lose weight and get fit would teach me so much about myself. I thought I was a pretty self aware person to begin with, but I've learned a lot about how I tick through this journey, and what drives me to do the things I do, and make the decisions I make, for good or bad. Also, I've started thinking a lot differently about certain things, and like a pebble in a pond, you think differently about one thing and it causes ripples through other areas of your life.
Ever changing, ever growing
I think the only way you can really fail miserably in this life is to stop trying - to stop striving for the best your life has to give, and the best you have to give life, because even the rough spots - sometimes especially the rough spots - change you and grow you and teach you and stretch you on the inside to be a little better, a little stronger, a little more noble, a little more generous, a little more grace filled.
Yes, I agree. That was a hugely messed up run on sentence, but I am too tired to fix it, and have grown enough through the rough spots to realize it doesn't really matter. :) .. you will catch my run on drift and life will go on.
speaking of which (I'm referring to life going on), they have extended the deadline for the biggest loser challenge at my gym due to both coaches having been on vacation for a week or two, so I get another week or two to get to my 199 goal (thank you God for small mercies, because Aunt Flo and weight loss just don't GO together) and I have another week or two to kick butt,win this thing, and finish strong!
So I'm praying my strength and stamina come back sooner rather than later, but if they don't, I'll just keep doing what I can and let God take care of the rest. I need to stop stressing about stuff I can't do anything about. Anybody else need to do that? Just me? I thought so.
Blessings, Tanya-Marie
My trainer says it is just because I'm healing, and possibly mixed up with that, that my wonderful hormonal time of the month is approaching, but that I'll get my strength back soon enough. Meanwhile, however, she has dropped my weight on my exercises to next to nothing, and I can barely get through them. I had to quit my hour walk on the treadmill yesterday at 41 minutes because my legs were buckling and I was losing my balance, and this after I first had to reduce my speed from my normal speedy (ha!) 3.0 miles an hour to 2.8 then 2.5 miles an hour, and reduce the hill program from level 13, to 11, to 10.
REALLY? WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?
I realize I had begun to feel strong, and that I now really dislike feeling weak!
I didn't think trying to lose weight and get fit would teach me so much about myself. I thought I was a pretty self aware person to begin with, but I've learned a lot about how I tick through this journey, and what drives me to do the things I do, and make the decisions I make, for good or bad. Also, I've started thinking a lot differently about certain things, and like a pebble in a pond, you think differently about one thing and it causes ripples through other areas of your life.
Ever changing, ever growing
I think the only way you can really fail miserably in this life is to stop trying - to stop striving for the best your life has to give, and the best you have to give life, because even the rough spots - sometimes especially the rough spots - change you and grow you and teach you and stretch you on the inside to be a little better, a little stronger, a little more noble, a little more generous, a little more grace filled.
Yes, I agree. That was a hugely messed up run on sentence, but I am too tired to fix it, and have grown enough through the rough spots to realize it doesn't really matter. :) .. you will catch my run on drift and life will go on.
speaking of which (I'm referring to life going on), they have extended the deadline for the biggest loser challenge at my gym due to both coaches having been on vacation for a week or two, so I get another week or two to get to my 199 goal (thank you God for small mercies, because Aunt Flo and weight loss just don't GO together) and I have another week or two to kick butt,win this thing, and finish strong!
So I'm praying my strength and stamina come back sooner rather than later, but if they don't, I'll just keep doing what I can and let God take care of the rest. I need to stop stressing about stuff I can't do anything about. Anybody else need to do that? Just me? I thought so.
Blessings, Tanya-Marie
Monday, July 23, 2012
My Rollerskating Fantasy (or, the truth hurts, literally)
Everybody knows I start getting anxious when I know my babies are going to be going away with my ex husband. I start thinking about doing something nice for them before they go. I start thinking about a fun memory to tide us over until we see each other again. Well, being low on funds and short on ideas I was ecstatic when a half off depot deal came through my inbox. Rollerskating for 4 including skate rental for only 20 dollars! We've lived behind sparkles rollerskating rink for 3 years now and we've never once been. It's quite pricey when you start adding up all the roller skate rentals as well as admission, and I've just never had the extra money sitting around, but 20 dollars for all 4 of us (Elizabeth was at a church retreat)....... I can see it now.....
My kids and I holding hands and gliding gracefully around the roller rink, laughing and having a fabulous time. Maybe one of the little ones would fall on their little behind. There'd be a shocked look on their face and then a burst of laughter. I'd reach down and pull them to their feet and off we'd go again.
Then, I dreamed of the calorie burn. Wow... rollerskating would be great exercise. Maybe I'd really like it, and be good at it (after all I grew up ice skating and was fine with that... how much harder than ice skating could it be?) and I'd start going there for good exercise a few times a week. I looked it up. 700 calories and hour! wow! awesome. I could feel the excitement in the air. That's it.
BUY DEAL NOW! Yes, please!
So thursday morning (the morning before they are due to go off with their dad for ten days to Florida) we set out to be at the door when it opens at 10. Everybody is really excited. This is a new experience for us. Sammy and Abby have roller-skated a few times with school events, but mom has never been with them, and Mom makes everything more fun! (I will be sad when this stops being true for them)
I took a few pictures for posterity. Here's Abby getting on her skates.
I stand. I wobble. Ok. This will take me a few minutes to get used to. I haven't ice skated for 10-15 years so it will take a few minutes to come back to me. My attitude is still good, but somewhere in the back of my mind warning bells are going off. I tune them out.
I do a granny shuffle on my skates over to the wall. This rink has a wall running along only one short side of the rink. That's not cool. Okay. Let's go back and forth along the wall a few times to get the feel of things. This is not so bad... the kids immediately head out around the rink with the fearlessness that accompanies childhood. Abby falls on her butt a few times but quickly gets the hang of it and starts going around fairly efficiently for a kid who has only done this a couple of times in her life.
Jackson falls on his butt a time or two, makes a drama production of falling and waits for me to notice, and then decides to quit. Too hard. I feel a bit of disappointment because he gives up on stuff he finds hard so quickly. I wish he'd just give it ten minutes. He goes over to the indoor playground and Sammy, Abby and I are left on the rink. Turns out if we had all followed Jackson's lead, things might have ended better.
Sammy lacks grace completely, but you can tell in his mind he's a roller skating dance star. I'd love to live in his mind for a day or two to see what it's like. He's happy though, going round and round. He's kind of shuffling, but he's not falling. I'm impressed.
Meanwhile I'm on the wall. Having gone back and forth several times I'm picking up speed and holding on to the wall less. I'm starting to gain a bit of confidence. This is harder than I remember ice skating to be. I wonder if I'd do better on the roller blades. They mimic ice skates more than the roller skates do, but it's too late now. I'm just going to go with the roller skates. Then it happens.
Why is it that when you fall it happens so fast but seems to go in agonizing slow motion. My skate clad foot slips suddenly from under me and my arms whirl in circles trying to maintain my balance. Evidently I whirled the wrong way, because out goes my other foot and I land hard on my butt. All 205 pounds of me. Before I have time to think "ouch" my upper half follows my bottom half and slams backwards onto the hard maple floor. My head punctuates the fall with a resounding crack that sends shockwaves through my whole body. The mom who is intelligently sitting at the picnic table on her laptop while her kids skate jumps up and runs around the wall from 20 feet away. She's like "are you okay???? I heard your head crack the floor from all the way over there!" I'm sitting there, having struggled to a sitting position. "I don't know" I answer truthfully,"I think I need to go sit for a bit". So I carefully shuffle my way over to the nearest seat and roller skating staff come up to me with a big bag of ice, for which I am thankful. Damn, that hurt. Yes, I said Damn. That was way too painful for a dang.
My kids gather around me, questioning me and coddling me. I, not wanting to wreck their fun, pretend to be just fine. "Oh, clumsy mommy bonked her head! I'll be fine! Just go skate, I'll join you in a minute!". In my head I'm thinking "great, I'm gonna have brain damage." I had just finished a book, THAT morning, about a woman's journey with brain injury. I texted my husband and told him that if my personality was changed when he got home to take me to the ER. I sat for a few minutes with the ice on my head. No goose egg was forming, and I was feeling ok, more or less, other than my head hurting like heck.
I granny shuffled back to the wall, but something had taken hold of me. FEAR. I was scared to keep roller skating. I was in a lot of throbbing head pain, and the fall had happened so fast and unexpectedly that I really was worried about falling again. To top things off, we had the rink basically to ourselves since we got there, but now a daycare came in and there were now about 35 kids speeding around the rink showing a good bit of skill that spoke of them coming here often. I felt even more old and clumsy and uncoordinated than I had just been starting to feel after the fall, but I was also worried about these moving landmines called the daycare kids. How much control could people moving that fast have? I mean, I certainly couldn't get out of the way quickly, so could they?
Abby urged me to try going around the outside of the rink with her, so I started slowly moving around the rink, praying to God I wouldn't fall again and smash my aching head. A nice lady came up to me and gave me some "first timer" tips. Look straight ahead, not at the floor. Keep my arms still, don't swing them. It helped. Thank you kind stranger! Soon Abby was way ahead of me, and I was making my way slowly around the rink. Eventually I got to the wall again and decided to hang out there for a while. I mean, why push my luck right? And then she fell.
My baby. She fell, and unlike the other times, she didn't get up. She didn't even move. She just curled up into a ball and lay there. I couldn't hear her from across the room, with the loud music, but I knew she was crying, because a mom just knows. Great. This is when I want to run to her and make sure she's okay. Obviously I can't run. I can barely stay on my feet. As quick as I can I skate over to her. I reach her, and then I pass her... I'm scared to try to stop using the rubber tip thing, because I can see myself flying forward onto my face, but I got up too much speed trying to get to her to actually glide nicely to a stop beside her. So I am trying to WILL my skates to slow and somehow, just the force of my will throws me off balance and I fall to the ground beside her. Onto my elbow. The most excruciating electric pain shoots from my elbow up to my fingertips and then suddenly I can't feel my arm at all. EXCEPT for my elbow, which is now throbbing in time to my head. I really want to burst into tears at this point because it hurts so so so bad, but mommy fear wins out and I kind of crawl over to my baby girl. "Abby, are you okay baby?"
"no mommy, it hurts!"
"what hurts"
"my wrist!'
I look at it. Go through the mommy check list
bones protruding through skin? no. check.
blood? no. check
swelling? no. check
I take her arm and gently flex her wrist up and down. she flinches but it moves. her fingers bend just fine. I start to breathe easier.
then I rotate her wrist back and forth a little.
She screams.
She pulls her arm away from me. "mommy, don't turn it, please don't turn it. It hurts." Tears are rolling down her face. By this time, we've attracted the attention of the sparkles people and two people approach.The DJ clears the rink of skaters and I totally don't feel conspicuous at all. yeah. They want to know if she's okay. She is just terrified they are going to turn her arm. she says "don't touch it, please, please, please!"
They take control. They start unlacing her roller skates, and I think to myself what a fabulous idea that is, and I start unlacing mine. I'm done with roller skating. By the time I have my skates off Abby is up and they are walking her off the rink. I follow and they bring her ice. They must have a good collection of baggies, because this is the second time today they've brought my family ice in a baggie.
Abby, who is a real trouper, and one of those kids who tends to wipe herself off and move on, is not moving on. She has completely lost her fabulous sense of humor, and as I hold her she just leans her head on me and looks at me with giant sad eyes. After 20 minutes she is still in pain, and though there is no discernible swelling or anything to indicate that this is more than maybe a bad sprain, my mommy instinct kicks in. I call Josh and ask him where I should go to get an x-ray. He suggests I wait a day, or a few hours. No, I have to go now. I just know. He is smart enough not to mess with mama bear instinct and directs me to Children's Healthcare. 35 dollar copay instead of 100 for ER. Smart man. I have a bad feeling, because my baby is not bouncing back, and if my baby is anything, she's bouncy. I have personally experienced the exquisite hardness of this floor twice today, and just maybe this is more than a sprain. Better safe than sorry.
I drop the boys at home and head to Childrens Healthcare in Duluth.
My trouper is not saying much. Once she says "mommy, why is it still hurting so much??" and I say "I don't know baby. that's why we are going to the doctor. He can x-ray it and see what is going on.". My girl is healthy. I don't know that she's ever even had an x-ray except at the dentist. I tell her that it won't hurt to get an x-ray and they won't give her a shot. I can tell she is still scared, but I also know she just doesn't want it to hurt anymore. She's willing to go to a strange doctor and get a strange xray if they will stop the hurting.
Children's was fabulous. We didn't have to wait more than about 20 minutes to see somebody, and quickly thereafter we... well...
The pictures tell it all.. ouchy Abby waiting for her x-ray. Yep, that's a broken arm. and happy Abby after a massive dose of motrin and a full arm cast.
Abby said "Mommy, I don't like roller skating anymore, and I don't want to have my next birthday party there after all".
I said "oh baby, I don't like roller skating either and I'm sorry your day was so bad. I wanted to give you a fun and memorable day before you left with daddy tomorrow, and instead your arm got broken"
She said "well, it WAS fun before I fell. and it WAS memorable. I won't forget breaking my arm!"
That's my girl. Looking on the bright side!
So my roller skating fantasy was just that. A fantasy. I am essentially a giant accident waiting to happen, and my children are not naturally athletically gifted, and what the heck was I thinking anyway.
really.
rollerskating sucks.
It is now sunday (actually monday morning, at 3:59 because my sleep has been all messed up since this happened) and I am just now starting to feel better. I have been slightly nauseous and not able to think clearly and quickly for 3 days now. Each day I feel a little better. Friday and Saturday I could barely move my body. I hurt everywhere. Today my body aches are much better. My elbow is black and purple and blue, my head aches where it hit the floor. I am struggling over spelling things and remembering things I ought to know. I believe I may have sustained a mild concussion.
I should have worn a helmet. Except I don't own one because I don't have a bike, and also, my roller skating fantasy didn't have anybody wearing helmets. Sending my baby off with her dad the day after she broke her arm just about killed me. I don't trust him with her because he is not me. I felt better that he brought a stuffy and a pillow when he picked her up. It made me feel he was worried about her comfort. I hope he spoils her some, because they are at a condo on the beach and she can't get her cast wet. How fun will that be? I pray he protects it from getting any sand in it. I pray she won't be itchy, swelling, or in any way uncomfortable. She can't even draw to pass the time, because she's right handed and broke her right wrist. Poor baby.
I don't even have an uplifting way to finish this post. No encouraging words to share.... except maybe that I encourage you to stay away from roller skating rinks :)
Tomorrow I try to get back to my workouts. I haven't done anything since last wednesday because I didn't feel well enough on friday to go workout and this weekend I have been resting and trying to get my brain working on all cylinders again. My trainer promises she will take it easy on me. As long as I have sneakers on my feet and not wheels I'll be okay I think.
I just thank God I didn't kill myself, or break something like Abby did. ugh.
Let's just call this a LEARNING EXPERIENCE. If something becomes a learning experience then it makes it better right? I learned that my baby is super tough and I'm so proud of her. I learned that I should not do exercise involving wheels. I learned that shaking up your brain, even a little, is a scary thing, and that I should avoid it at all costs. Last but not least I learned that writing a blog entry at 4 in the morning while mildly brain damaged does not make for a witty, nor even a really coherent blog.Does any of this even make sense to you all?
Live and learn, that's what this journey is all about, right? Live and learn.
My kids and I holding hands and gliding gracefully around the roller rink, laughing and having a fabulous time. Maybe one of the little ones would fall on their little behind. There'd be a shocked look on their face and then a burst of laughter. I'd reach down and pull them to their feet and off we'd go again.
Then, I dreamed of the calorie burn. Wow... rollerskating would be great exercise. Maybe I'd really like it, and be good at it (after all I grew up ice skating and was fine with that... how much harder than ice skating could it be?) and I'd start going there for good exercise a few times a week. I looked it up. 700 calories and hour! wow! awesome. I could feel the excitement in the air. That's it.
BUY DEAL NOW! Yes, please!
So thursday morning (the morning before they are due to go off with their dad for ten days to Florida) we set out to be at the door when it opens at 10. Everybody is really excited. This is a new experience for us. Sammy and Abby have roller-skated a few times with school events, but mom has never been with them, and Mom makes everything more fun! (I will be sad when this stops being true for them)
I took a few pictures for posterity. Here's Abby getting on her skates.
I stand. I wobble. Ok. This will take me a few minutes to get used to. I haven't ice skated for 10-15 years so it will take a few minutes to come back to me. My attitude is still good, but somewhere in the back of my mind warning bells are going off. I tune them out.
I do a granny shuffle on my skates over to the wall. This rink has a wall running along only one short side of the rink. That's not cool. Okay. Let's go back and forth along the wall a few times to get the feel of things. This is not so bad... the kids immediately head out around the rink with the fearlessness that accompanies childhood. Abby falls on her butt a few times but quickly gets the hang of it and starts going around fairly efficiently for a kid who has only done this a couple of times in her life.
Jackson falls on his butt a time or two, makes a drama production of falling and waits for me to notice, and then decides to quit. Too hard. I feel a bit of disappointment because he gives up on stuff he finds hard so quickly. I wish he'd just give it ten minutes. He goes over to the indoor playground and Sammy, Abby and I are left on the rink. Turns out if we had all followed Jackson's lead, things might have ended better. 
Sammy lacks grace completely, but you can tell in his mind he's a roller skating dance star. I'd love to live in his mind for a day or two to see what it's like. He's happy though, going round and round. He's kind of shuffling, but he's not falling. I'm impressed.
Why is it that when you fall it happens so fast but seems to go in agonizing slow motion. My skate clad foot slips suddenly from under me and my arms whirl in circles trying to maintain my balance. Evidently I whirled the wrong way, because out goes my other foot and I land hard on my butt. All 205 pounds of me. Before I have time to think "ouch" my upper half follows my bottom half and slams backwards onto the hard maple floor. My head punctuates the fall with a resounding crack that sends shockwaves through my whole body. The mom who is intelligently sitting at the picnic table on her laptop while her kids skate jumps up and runs around the wall from 20 feet away. She's like "are you okay???? I heard your head crack the floor from all the way over there!" I'm sitting there, having struggled to a sitting position. "I don't know" I answer truthfully,"I think I need to go sit for a bit". So I carefully shuffle my way over to the nearest seat and roller skating staff come up to me with a big bag of ice, for which I am thankful. Damn, that hurt. Yes, I said Damn. That was way too painful for a dang.
My kids gather around me, questioning me and coddling me. I, not wanting to wreck their fun, pretend to be just fine. "Oh, clumsy mommy bonked her head! I'll be fine! Just go skate, I'll join you in a minute!". In my head I'm thinking "great, I'm gonna have brain damage." I had just finished a book, THAT morning, about a woman's journey with brain injury. I texted my husband and told him that if my personality was changed when he got home to take me to the ER. I sat for a few minutes with the ice on my head. No goose egg was forming, and I was feeling ok, more or less, other than my head hurting like heck.
I granny shuffled back to the wall, but something had taken hold of me. FEAR. I was scared to keep roller skating. I was in a lot of throbbing head pain, and the fall had happened so fast and unexpectedly that I really was worried about falling again. To top things off, we had the rink basically to ourselves since we got there, but now a daycare came in and there were now about 35 kids speeding around the rink showing a good bit of skill that spoke of them coming here often. I felt even more old and clumsy and uncoordinated than I had just been starting to feel after the fall, but I was also worried about these moving landmines called the daycare kids. How much control could people moving that fast have? I mean, I certainly couldn't get out of the way quickly, so could they?
Abby urged me to try going around the outside of the rink with her, so I started slowly moving around the rink, praying to God I wouldn't fall again and smash my aching head. A nice lady came up to me and gave me some "first timer" tips. Look straight ahead, not at the floor. Keep my arms still, don't swing them. It helped. Thank you kind stranger! Soon Abby was way ahead of me, and I was making my way slowly around the rink. Eventually I got to the wall again and decided to hang out there for a while. I mean, why push my luck right? And then she fell.
My baby. She fell, and unlike the other times, she didn't get up. She didn't even move. She just curled up into a ball and lay there. I couldn't hear her from across the room, with the loud music, but I knew she was crying, because a mom just knows. Great. This is when I want to run to her and make sure she's okay. Obviously I can't run. I can barely stay on my feet. As quick as I can I skate over to her. I reach her, and then I pass her... I'm scared to try to stop using the rubber tip thing, because I can see myself flying forward onto my face, but I got up too much speed trying to get to her to actually glide nicely to a stop beside her. So I am trying to WILL my skates to slow and somehow, just the force of my will throws me off balance and I fall to the ground beside her. Onto my elbow. The most excruciating electric pain shoots from my elbow up to my fingertips and then suddenly I can't feel my arm at all. EXCEPT for my elbow, which is now throbbing in time to my head. I really want to burst into tears at this point because it hurts so so so bad, but mommy fear wins out and I kind of crawl over to my baby girl. "Abby, are you okay baby?"
"no mommy, it hurts!"
"what hurts"
"my wrist!'
I look at it. Go through the mommy check list
bones protruding through skin? no. check.
blood? no. check
swelling? no. check
I take her arm and gently flex her wrist up and down. she flinches but it moves. her fingers bend just fine. I start to breathe easier.
then I rotate her wrist back and forth a little.
She screams.
She pulls her arm away from me. "mommy, don't turn it, please don't turn it. It hurts." Tears are rolling down her face. By this time, we've attracted the attention of the sparkles people and two people approach.The DJ clears the rink of skaters and I totally don't feel conspicuous at all. yeah. They want to know if she's okay. She is just terrified they are going to turn her arm. she says "don't touch it, please, please, please!"
They take control. They start unlacing her roller skates, and I think to myself what a fabulous idea that is, and I start unlacing mine. I'm done with roller skating. By the time I have my skates off Abby is up and they are walking her off the rink. I follow and they bring her ice. They must have a good collection of baggies, because this is the second time today they've brought my family ice in a baggie.
Abby, who is a real trouper, and one of those kids who tends to wipe herself off and move on, is not moving on. She has completely lost her fabulous sense of humor, and as I hold her she just leans her head on me and looks at me with giant sad eyes. After 20 minutes she is still in pain, and though there is no discernible swelling or anything to indicate that this is more than maybe a bad sprain, my mommy instinct kicks in. I call Josh and ask him where I should go to get an x-ray. He suggests I wait a day, or a few hours. No, I have to go now. I just know. He is smart enough not to mess with mama bear instinct and directs me to Children's Healthcare. 35 dollar copay instead of 100 for ER. Smart man. I have a bad feeling, because my baby is not bouncing back, and if my baby is anything, she's bouncy. I have personally experienced the exquisite hardness of this floor twice today, and just maybe this is more than a sprain. Better safe than sorry.
I drop the boys at home and head to Childrens Healthcare in Duluth.
My trouper is not saying much. Once she says "mommy, why is it still hurting so much??" and I say "I don't know baby. that's why we are going to the doctor. He can x-ray it and see what is going on.". My girl is healthy. I don't know that she's ever even had an x-ray except at the dentist. I tell her that it won't hurt to get an x-ray and they won't give her a shot. I can tell she is still scared, but I also know she just doesn't want it to hurt anymore. She's willing to go to a strange doctor and get a strange xray if they will stop the hurting.
Children's was fabulous. We didn't have to wait more than about 20 minutes to see somebody, and quickly thereafter we... well...
The pictures tell it all.. ouchy Abby waiting for her x-ray. Yep, that's a broken arm. and happy Abby after a massive dose of motrin and a full arm cast.
Abby said "Mommy, I don't like roller skating anymore, and I don't want to have my next birthday party there after all".
I said "oh baby, I don't like roller skating either and I'm sorry your day was so bad. I wanted to give you a fun and memorable day before you left with daddy tomorrow, and instead your arm got broken"
She said "well, it WAS fun before I fell. and it WAS memorable. I won't forget breaking my arm!"
That's my girl. Looking on the bright side!
So my roller skating fantasy was just that. A fantasy. I am essentially a giant accident waiting to happen, and my children are not naturally athletically gifted, and what the heck was I thinking anyway.
really.
rollerskating sucks.
It is now sunday (actually monday morning, at 3:59 because my sleep has been all messed up since this happened) and I am just now starting to feel better. I have been slightly nauseous and not able to think clearly and quickly for 3 days now. Each day I feel a little better. Friday and Saturday I could barely move my body. I hurt everywhere. Today my body aches are much better. My elbow is black and purple and blue, my head aches where it hit the floor. I am struggling over spelling things and remembering things I ought to know. I believe I may have sustained a mild concussion.
I should have worn a helmet. Except I don't own one because I don't have a bike, and also, my roller skating fantasy didn't have anybody wearing helmets. Sending my baby off with her dad the day after she broke her arm just about killed me. I don't trust him with her because he is not me. I felt better that he brought a stuffy and a pillow when he picked her up. It made me feel he was worried about her comfort. I hope he spoils her some, because they are at a condo on the beach and she can't get her cast wet. How fun will that be? I pray he protects it from getting any sand in it. I pray she won't be itchy, swelling, or in any way uncomfortable. She can't even draw to pass the time, because she's right handed and broke her right wrist. Poor baby.
I don't even have an uplifting way to finish this post. No encouraging words to share.... except maybe that I encourage you to stay away from roller skating rinks :)
Tomorrow I try to get back to my workouts. I haven't done anything since last wednesday because I didn't feel well enough on friday to go workout and this weekend I have been resting and trying to get my brain working on all cylinders again. My trainer promises she will take it easy on me. As long as I have sneakers on my feet and not wheels I'll be okay I think.
I just thank God I didn't kill myself, or break something like Abby did. ugh.
Let's just call this a LEARNING EXPERIENCE. If something becomes a learning experience then it makes it better right? I learned that my baby is super tough and I'm so proud of her. I learned that I should not do exercise involving wheels. I learned that shaking up your brain, even a little, is a scary thing, and that I should avoid it at all costs. Last but not least I learned that writing a blog entry at 4 in the morning while mildly brain damaged does not make for a witty, nor even a really coherent blog.Does any of this even make sense to you all?
Live and learn, that's what this journey is all about, right? Live and learn.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Six Flags Adventure (or, wow, I'm an idiot and I have the pictures to prove it!!!)
I've lived in Georgia for 20 years and I've never been to Six Flags over Georgia. Yep, that's the sad truth. why, you may ask?
1. I don't like roller coasters. The older I get, the harder rides are for me. I get a vertigo thing that makes me very unhappy.
2. It's flippin' expensive!!! tickets are 54 dollars a person. parking is minimum 20. Food doesn't even start at under 8.00 an item. ack!
Well, this year 3 out of my 4 kids did a reading challenge thing at school and got free tickets to six flags. Since one of my kids was being homeschooled, that means I also got a free Teacher ticket! This means, only one ticket, for the oldest, had to be bought. I had a coupon to get it for 39 dollars. Okay, with a little planning I can do this..I think.
So off we go, ready to conquer the world, or at least Austell, GA. First, even though I have a GPS, I get lost in what amounts to the slums of Atlanta. My husband can't imagine how I get lost on what should be a simple three turn trip of an hour on major freeways, but I manage it. I miss an exit, and in trying to fix that I end up going in a multitude of squares through graffiti ridden neighborhoods for half an hour and finally get back on track and get to Six Flags around 11:30 (it opens at 10:30 so this isn't too bad). I pay the extra five dollars (yes, 25.00 for parking... these people are making a bloody killing!) so I can park close. I figure, after hours and hours at the park this is not the time my brood will be happy with my "park at the far end of the lot" philosophy!
I didn't start the day off well, diet wise. I did go to the gym before we left and worked out with Melissa, but we were in such a frenzy to leave that I forgot to eat breakfast and only as we were pulling out did I realize I was hungry and grabbed the only portable thing I could think of, which happened to be a ginormous apple fritter from my Abby's favorite main street market in Lilburn - fresh baked every Thursday. I had gotten some for the kids and Josh and accidentally bought 6 instead of 5. (I swear, it REALLY was an accident!) So I ate that, and it was GOOD. I figured, it's early morning and I'm going to be walking all day, so I will burn it off.
There was a 50% chance of thunderstorms, but it was really the only good day for us to go, so we went just kind of praying the weather would cooperate, and at first, it did. I found a caricature artist that had some great work out, and I always wanted some of the kids, so I splurged and got them done.
Josh said it looked like Jackson had just given Sammy a wedgie and Sammy was trying to decide if it would be too embarrassing to pull it out in public. Captured them perfectly.
Abby's hair was captured perfectly, and her cute little chipmunk cheeks.Elizabeth was a bit upset she didn't look prettier in the picture, and thought he made her face look weird. I actually think he captured that uncertain look she often has in her eyes just perfectly, and since it is a caricature, of course he would take that megawatt smile and make it huge! I love the pictures and they are going to hang in the kids rooms. That was a good start to the day.
I wanted to try to overcome my fear of roller coasters by going on one. Sammy and Abby, who have been to six flags with their dad, were our resident experts. They assured me that Goliath was a good roller coaster, but that it did not have any loops and that I never went upside down (these were my two conditions - after all - I wanted to conquer a fear, not get crazy). Okay, I say, I'll try this Goliath. First of all, I should have realized by the name that this was not going to be a nice gentle little roller coaster. I purposely did not really LOOK at the roller coaster because I did not want to frighten myself out of it. This is very easy to do, by the way. As soon as the coaster started I knew this was a bad idea. We started going UP. Way up. Then there was this terrifying slant that seemed to me to be in excess of 90 degrees. This is where I closed my eyes and opened my mouth in a terrified girly scream. I kept my eyes closed every time we were going up a hill or down a hill until the end of this nightmarish ride that I think lasted about 49 minutes. Maybe 51. Sammy says about 1 minute and 30 seconds, but I know this can't be right. 51 minutes. I'm sure. This means, at any rate, that my eyes were closed and my mouth open for about 99.7 percent of the ride. (that's about 50 minutes and 43 seconds)
I bought the picture.
I wanted to prove I had done it, because God knows, I won't be doing it again. Note the cruel truth of the matter in the picture below.
There was some good wind for catching cape blowing drama. Abby's natural theatrical bent came out in full force for this photo shoot. She was completely the serious crime fighting superhero! Well, soon enough the rain got to be a soaking rain and the thunder rumbles came one after another so we decided to take shelter under the game pavilion. I had 10 dollars in my fanny pack so I let the three little ones play a "pick the duck" game and they all won cool prizes. See below for aforementioned cool prizes.
meet the sponge bob hammer, Scratch the nerdy pencil and Squirt, the squid.
Abby started a trend at the park by tying the squid onto her head. Soon, there were many girls around her doing the same thing. It was a sea of squid heads. Quite funny. I should have taken a picture, but I didn't want other parents thinking I was some kind of creeper, taking pictures of their kids. The extra dollar I gave to Elizabeth and she promptly lost it trying to win a hello kitty doll.
So anyway. It is raining hard and we are hanging out in the game pavilion and I'm getting bored. I think to myself "Now would be an awesome time to take a picture of the superman ride because there is nobody in front of it." So I start walking out towards the ride (next to the pavilion) and realize too late that the water is a good three inches deep or more and my sneakers are immediately soaked through. ugh. oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound they say, so I sloshed through the water to the superman ride and lifted my camera for a picture. I took it, and a milisecond later, even before my camera reset, a huge bolt of cinema worthy lightning struck with vigor right behind the superman ride. My first thought was "crap, that would have made the most awesome picture!" and my second thought was "I'm standing in 4 inches of highly conductive water, and there is lightning and thunder crashing all around me all of a sudden. I'm an idiot". I walked extremely rapidly (okay, let's call it sprinting) back to the safety of the pavilion and stood there for a good minute getting my heart back to a decent pace. Yeah, that was stupid. Here's the picture. It is dark because of the heavy rain. Not a picture worth my life. If I would have fried over that picture I would have been up in heaven quite peeved with myself. duh.
Extra Pics: Here's Bugs Bunny and the gang, Elizabeth in her new glasses and necklace (also glasses!)
On the way out of the park Sammy pointed out that this was PART of Goliath, the roller coaster I rode. I'm glad I didn't look at it before hand. I would have chickened out. I took two more pictures of various parts of this mammoth coaster. It covers half the darn park it seems!
1. I don't like roller coasters. The older I get, the harder rides are for me. I get a vertigo thing that makes me very unhappy.
2. It's flippin' expensive!!! tickets are 54 dollars a person. parking is minimum 20. Food doesn't even start at under 8.00 an item. ack!
Well, this year 3 out of my 4 kids did a reading challenge thing at school and got free tickets to six flags. Since one of my kids was being homeschooled, that means I also got a free Teacher ticket! This means, only one ticket, for the oldest, had to be bought. I had a coupon to get it for 39 dollars. Okay, with a little planning I can do this..I think.
So off we go, ready to conquer the world, or at least Austell, GA. First, even though I have a GPS, I get lost in what amounts to the slums of Atlanta. My husband can't imagine how I get lost on what should be a simple three turn trip of an hour on major freeways, but I manage it. I miss an exit, and in trying to fix that I end up going in a multitude of squares through graffiti ridden neighborhoods for half an hour and finally get back on track and get to Six Flags around 11:30 (it opens at 10:30 so this isn't too bad). I pay the extra five dollars (yes, 25.00 for parking... these people are making a bloody killing!) so I can park close. I figure, after hours and hours at the park this is not the time my brood will be happy with my "park at the far end of the lot" philosophy!
I didn't start the day off well, diet wise. I did go to the gym before we left and worked out with Melissa, but we were in such a frenzy to leave that I forgot to eat breakfast and only as we were pulling out did I realize I was hungry and grabbed the only portable thing I could think of, which happened to be a ginormous apple fritter from my Abby's favorite main street market in Lilburn - fresh baked every Thursday. I had gotten some for the kids and Josh and accidentally bought 6 instead of 5. (I swear, it REALLY was an accident!) So I ate that, and it was GOOD. I figured, it's early morning and I'm going to be walking all day, so I will burn it off.
There was a 50% chance of thunderstorms, but it was really the only good day for us to go, so we went just kind of praying the weather would cooperate, and at first, it did. I found a caricature artist that had some great work out, and I always wanted some of the kids, so I splurged and got them done.
Josh said it looked like Jackson had just given Sammy a wedgie and Sammy was trying to decide if it would be too embarrassing to pull it out in public. Captured them perfectly.
Abby's hair was captured perfectly, and her cute little chipmunk cheeks.Elizabeth was a bit upset she didn't look prettier in the picture, and thought he made her face look weird. I actually think he captured that uncertain look she often has in her eyes just perfectly, and since it is a caricature, of course he would take that megawatt smile and make it huge! I love the pictures and they are going to hang in the kids rooms. That was a good start to the day.
I wanted to try to overcome my fear of roller coasters by going on one. Sammy and Abby, who have been to six flags with their dad, were our resident experts. They assured me that Goliath was a good roller coaster, but that it did not have any loops and that I never went upside down (these were my two conditions - after all - I wanted to conquer a fear, not get crazy). Okay, I say, I'll try this Goliath. First of all, I should have realized by the name that this was not going to be a nice gentle little roller coaster. I purposely did not really LOOK at the roller coaster because I did not want to frighten myself out of it. This is very easy to do, by the way. As soon as the coaster started I knew this was a bad idea. We started going UP. Way up. Then there was this terrifying slant that seemed to me to be in excess of 90 degrees. This is where I closed my eyes and opened my mouth in a terrified girly scream. I kept my eyes closed every time we were going up a hill or down a hill until the end of this nightmarish ride that I think lasted about 49 minutes. Maybe 51. Sammy says about 1 minute and 30 seconds, but I know this can't be right. 51 minutes. I'm sure. This means, at any rate, that my eyes were closed and my mouth open for about 99.7 percent of the ride. (that's about 50 minutes and 43 seconds)
I bought the picture.
I wanted to prove I had done it, because God knows, I won't be doing it again. Note the cruel truth of the matter in the picture below.
Yes, that's my 8 year old daughter, hands raised and grin on her cute little face beside her 40 year old mother who is screaming in white knuckled terror, eyes tightly closed against the truth of her cowardice. Yes, that's my 14 year old daughter, looking calm, collected, and camera ready.
Yes, that's my 11 year old son, and the pained look on his face is a mixture of pity for and embarrassment of his poor cowardly mother.
I did it though. So there.
....and the kids were REALLY proud of me.
After Goliath we went to a kinder gentler roller coaster called the Dahlonega Mine Train. It was probably for 8 or 9 year olds. I really liked this roller coaster! It was fun! Just my speed. We went on it 3 times. I even raised my hands the third time. I even rode in the front!
We did bumper cars, where my superior driving skills let me pummel all the kids. Sammy got off the ride bragging about how he had been bumping me the whole time. I said "no, I never got bumped" and he said "I was! You were in a yellow rainbow car, number 31" and I said "no, I was in a yellow rainbow car, number 16". So somewhere there is a fat woman out there who is wondering what that darn kid at Six Flags had against her.
We did a ride where we got in a log car and went up a watery hill, over, and down a watery hill. That is all there was to the ride and we got REALLY wet. It was fun. It was called splash waterfalls.
Somewhere in there we went to see the i-luminate show, which was really cool, and stopped for lunch at Panda Express. This was an exercise in frustration. I had said to myself "there is a panda express at the park, so we can save money by going there". Ha. Okay, first of all, the Panda Express at Six Flags does not have kids meals. This is a travesty of the worst kind! It has a limited menu, and the three entree plate is over 12 dollars! The next cheapest thing on the menu is over 10 dollars. Really??? How to feed all these kids and myself for under 100 dollars? I had already spent 50 dollars (count 'em, 50!) to buy refillable drink cups for everybody. We DID make good use of those cups, though I was not relishing spending another 50 bucks on food. So this is what I did.
I bought one 3 entree plate with two orange chickens, rice, and broccoli beef. I asked for three plates. I gave the broccoli beef to Jackson, and split the rice and orange chicken between the other three kids. I wasn't about to spend over 9 dollars on a panda bowl so I bought two veggie spring rolls for myself (3.29). So for under 15.50 I was able to feed all of us enough to get us by until 9:30 and a drive thru trip to taco bell (6 bucks, I love you Taco Bell!).
Then came my "I'm a horrible mommy" moment. I have one of these pretty much every day, but this was a pretty big one. Ever since we got to the park Abby had been begging to go to Skull Island, which is like a little mini water park inside Six Flags. I kept saying "patience, Abby, we'll get there". We stopped at the rides along the way, got the pictures done, had lunch, watched the show...Okay.. during this whole time I kept hearing "NOW can we go to Skull Island Mommy?" and I kept saying "We'll get there!"
Finally, around 4 in the afternoon as we are approaching Skull Island, people start streaming out of Skull Island and we are informed they JUST closed it down due to thunder. Abby just stands there, staring at Skull Island, tears streaming down her face.
Oh, I suck.
I suck.
I suck.
I felt SO horrible.
I assured her it was probably just a small storm and would pass momentarily and they would open the park again. Well, the park never opened again. Instead, we were treated to the scariest and most horrific thunder and lightning storm I've ever had the opportunity to be stuck out in. First, it was just raining. I felt super guilty so I bought the three little ones super hero capes. Since it was raining pretty hard, but not lightning or thunder we did an impromptu super hero photo shoot.
There was some good wind for catching cape blowing drama. Abby's natural theatrical bent came out in full force for this photo shoot. She was completely the serious crime fighting superhero! Well, soon enough the rain got to be a soaking rain and the thunder rumbles came one after another so we decided to take shelter under the game pavilion. I had 10 dollars in my fanny pack so I let the three little ones play a "pick the duck" game and they all won cool prizes. See below for aforementioned cool prizes.
meet the sponge bob hammer, Scratch the nerdy pencil and Squirt, the squid.Abby started a trend at the park by tying the squid onto her head. Soon, there were many girls around her doing the same thing. It was a sea of squid heads. Quite funny. I should have taken a picture, but I didn't want other parents thinking I was some kind of creeper, taking pictures of their kids. The extra dollar I gave to Elizabeth and she promptly lost it trying to win a hello kitty doll.
So anyway. It is raining hard and we are hanging out in the game pavilion and I'm getting bored. I think to myself "Now would be an awesome time to take a picture of the superman ride because there is nobody in front of it." So I start walking out towards the ride (next to the pavilion) and realize too late that the water is a good three inches deep or more and my sneakers are immediately soaked through. ugh. oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound they say, so I sloshed through the water to the superman ride and lifted my camera for a picture. I took it, and a milisecond later, even before my camera reset, a huge bolt of cinema worthy lightning struck with vigor right behind the superman ride. My first thought was "crap, that would have made the most awesome picture!" and my second thought was "I'm standing in 4 inches of highly conductive water, and there is lightning and thunder crashing all around me all of a sudden. I'm an idiot". I walked extremely rapidly (okay, let's call it sprinting) back to the safety of the pavilion and stood there for a good minute getting my heart back to a decent pace. Yeah, that was stupid. Here's the picture. It is dark because of the heavy rain. Not a picture worth my life. If I would have fried over that picture I would have been up in heaven quite peeved with myself. duh.
Shortly after I got back to the pavilion lightning struck the big St. Louis arch looking thingy. It's a ride and I don't know what the name is because you have to pay extra money to go on it, which doesn't attract my attention. So when it hit, it was so loud I thought it had hit the pavilion we were in. The power went out and Abby jumped about six feet. She could have beat the 8 year old pole vaulting record with that jump. A few minutes later we realized Sammy was missing. He had gone to the bathroom and hadn't come back. We sent Jackson in after him, only to find out that Sammy had heard the crash and decided the prudent thing to do would be to just hang out where he was for a while. My eldest boy has always had a healthy regard for his physical safety.
The lightning and thunder eventually passed.
The rain never really stopped completely and the rides never reopened, so at 8:30 we went and collected our souvenir pictures and toys and headed out. Remember that extra 5 dollars we paid for parking way back at the beginning of the day? All the kids were loving me a lot when we exited the park and like a beacon of rest our van was sitting there, essentially all alone, beckoning us to it's comfy (and nearby) seats. I drove home with bare feet. The kids all rode home with bare feet. There's a line of drying shoes out in the sun today.
wow.
fun day.
even the lightning storm and the wet feet.
and the three way sharing of the Panda Express
and the getting lost in the slums
(okay, maybe not that part)
sometimes you remember those things the most.
As for the fitness and diet. I walked 12900 steps yesterday. Over 5 miles. walked
14 flights of stairs (my fitbit tells me that is the equivalent of climbing that statue of Christ on top of the mountain in Brazil). That's a lot of walking and climbing. while waiting in line for the superman ride to reopen I walked in circles beside the line, just adding steps and exercise to my day. I ate the apple fritter, yes, but I'm pretty sure I burned it off, and though it was really carb heavy, I did eat it in the morning. I chose the inexpensive and fairly healthy spring vegetable rolls for lunch, and drank diet coke all day in my refillable cup. I went through Taco Bell drive through on the way home and got the kids supper, but I abstained and had a bowl of blueberries and light cool whip when I got home. So I feel I did good! There was even cotton candy there, and for anybody who has known me a while, you should know that cotton candy is very hard for me to resist. I'm a sugar addict and cotton candy is just flavored fluffy sugar!
I walked right past it.
I am making strides-
on my lifestyle plan.
not in my directional sense. I got lost on the way home too. blessings, Tanya
Extra Pics: Here's Bugs Bunny and the gang, Elizabeth in her new glasses and necklace (also glasses!)
Sammy and Elizabeth, early in the day when it was sunny and hot and everybody was happy :)
 |
| Jackson and Abby looking happy and sweet. In line for the monster mansion. |
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