Sunday, September 10, 2017

A Diagnosis and a Thank You

It was a year ago things started changing for my little girl.  It was back to school time.  First grade was exciting and she was loving her new teacher.  Then it happened.  I started getting phone calls from the office.  Olaya was complaining of headaches.  She was falling asleep in class.  I noticed as she would walk her steps were different.  It almost looked like she was having to drag her feet.

After a summer of sleeping in, naps when wanted and no real routine, my first thought was that she was having a hard time adjusting to all day school and the new schedule.  I was reassured even by the principal that her own first grader was taking naps after school.  The problem was that she wasn't just taking a nap.  She was going to bed.

Right away I got her in with her primary care doctor.  I was told to give her a cocktail of benadryl and ibuprofen for her headaches along with adding a vitamin fortified with iron to her daily routine.  The truth is the doctor didn't know what to tell me and felt she was okay.

The headaches got worse.  At six years old she was having full blown migraines.  A couple times a week I was getting calls from the school that they needed me to come over and give Olaya medication. Eventually they let me leave medicine for her and the principal would just give it to her with my permission. It was getting very difficult for me to leave work each time she had a headache.  

Olaya got home from school at three and would promptly fall asleep.She slept from then until I woke her for dinner around 6.  She would stay awake long enough to talk for a bit, eat dinner, take a bath and then be ready to get back in bed at 8.  Some days we tried to fit in her singing or dance class.  That was a nightmare most weeks.  She would fall asleep in the car and be very angry when I woke her to go to class.  Again I went back to the doctor and this time with a new pediatrician but at the same clinic.

This doctor did more blood work.  She seemed to be more invested in what we were experiencing but overall her answer was to give Olaya a medication for the headaches and a medication to wake her up, speed.  My thought was and has always been that I am okay with giving a child a medication if I know what it is for.  I am not okay with giving a medication to mask a symptom and just see how it goes.  I left that day with the prescription for a "headache medicine" only to learn from a specialist we saw a few months later that what she prescribed was actually a medication that was used to help with sleep.  I never filled the prescription.

I wasn't okay with giving Olaya this medication as the doctor couldn't give one reason why she was having headaches.  As I left the clinic that day I went straight to my chiropractors office.  He got Olaya in and right away found the cause of her migraines.  Within three treatments she was migraine free.  To this day Olaya will let me know when she starts to get tight in her neck and feel pain so that I can get her in.  Truthfully, she doesn't like the process of "getting her neck popped".  However, she does know that it brings her relief and prolongs the time she is pain free so she is now happy to see our chiropractor, Gary Johnson.  I am happy to report that since those first couple of visits, Olaya has not had a migraine.  She does get mild headaches on occasion.  We see Dr. Johnson as needed, typically once every three or four weeks.

A week or so later the pediatrician called to see how things were going now that we started the "headache" medicine.  I explained about seeing a chiropractor and she became hostile.  She told me a child should never be adjusted and that chiropractic care for kids can lead to stroke.  I explained I was surprised she was more eager to provide a medication, give my daughter chemicals, than try a natural treatment.  It still baffles me.  I keep finding that the medical profession just wants to push pills. . . for everything.  

Long story short I was frustrated.  By this time I had met with three different pediatricians from this same clinic. Each one dismissed Olaya's symptoms.  Each one wanted to address each symptom as if it stood alone.  They told me none of these things were related.  Eventually Olaya created a work around for her sleepiness in class.  She learned to become hyper or stay always moving so that she wouldn't fall asleep.  At my final consult with the third pediatrician she told me it sounded like everything was working out for Olaya when I told her she had figured out to ways to stay alert by moving around.  I asked how that could possibly be a solution.  It certainly wouldn't be for her or I.  She said that as long as Olaya was doing well in school and this wasn't hindering her life then I should just be okay with it.

The thing was, this controlled our life.  I was missing out on time with my daughter because of all the sleeping she was getting.  If she had a dance recital, we arrived 45 minutes earlier than the suggested time so that Olaya could curl up on a row in the back of the auditorium to nap and wake only in time to go on stage.  When we traveled to an amusement park Olaya would fall asleep standing in line and instead of laughing and frolicking on the rides she was fighting to keep her eyes open.  One time she fell asleep pushing the shopping cart in Walmart.  I turned when I saw the cart go flying down the aisle and saw he collapsing to the ground only to wake up when her head hit the floor.  Nothing about any of this was normal. That was the final straw for me with the pediatricians.  They were not listening.  I had questions and they didn't have any answers.  

It was then the pediatrician offered to put Olaya on a stimulant medication.  Again, I am not okay with prescribing a medication when we don't know what it is we are treating.  I asked if we could see a specialist.  I asked if we could get another opinion.  Again the doctor suggested trying a medication and see what happens.  Again I demanded to see a specialist.  She reluctantly suggested seeing someone to do a child sleep study.  However, she sad I would have to go to Salt Lake and that they are very expensive.  I was dumbfounded.  She was actually trying to persuade me against quality medical care because I would have to drive a couple hours and that it would cost.  Those are both things I get to worry about.  First, Salt Lake is not that far away and second, my daughter has double coverage between her dad and myself.  I took the referral and made an appointment.  

A few weeks later we saw Dr. Safi at Primary Children's Hospital.  Although I was reluctant to have high hopes, he squashed my fears within minutes.  He listened.  He listened for quite a while.  He shared with me that when his office requested Olaya's file they sent a copy of the chart notes from out last visit and all it said was "Mom in again with concerns of her daughter being tired." SERIOUSLY!!!

Dr. Safi got to see first hand how quickly Olaya would fall asleep.  He had her up on the exam table.  He was asking her questions and she was alert and responding.  He turned to me for a couple of questions and within a few moments when he turned back to Olaya she was asleep.  Even he was surprised at how quickly she was out.  

He requested new blood work, discussed a few ideas with me and scheduled Olaya for a full night sleep study and day napping study. He was confident he would find some answers in the study.

So, here we are.  I decided not to do the study during the summer (although looking back I should have just done it as soon as possible). I waited for school to be back in session and Olaya be on a regular sleep schedule.

We made the trip down to Salt Lake City on a Tuesday afternoon.  We knew we would arrive.  They would get her hooked up to a bunch of sensors. They would monitor her through the night.  They would monitor her through five nap studies during the full day of Wednesday.  



Arrived at Primary Children's Hospital for 8 PM check in.
 When we arrived at the hospital we had to walk across this connecting hall to get to the sleep lab. I saw my little girl, with her favorite pillow, embarking on a journey as she walked that hall.  She has such a brave spirit.

Home for the next 24 hours. Olaya got to keep the blanket.

And so it begins.


It wasn't until the technicians started hooking Olaya up to the sensors that I truly knew the fear Olaya was experiencing.  She had asked me the typical questions. What are they going to do?  Will it hurt? What do I do? How long do I have to do it?  When can I go home?  I answered all her questions as best I could.  She seemed okay with it all.  Then it happened.  As they were placing the sensors, Olaya said, "I am going to be sick."  I jumped up and got the garbage for her to use.  My poor little girl was holding in some emotions until they all came spilling out.  Once that was over she said she felt much better.  The technicians were awesome.  They were kind with her.  She settled down and the placement of sensors continued.


Almost done.


How do I sleep with all this?

Even with this thing up my nose?
 I will say the study went well.  She didn't have a problem sleeping in a strange place.  She never does.  On the other hand, I didn't sleep much at all.  By morning I was welcoming the technicians coming to wake her.  Unfortunately construction starting at 6 AM in the office behind us woke her first.
Breakfast

This girl never loses her sparkle.

First nap.



All done.

Heading home.

Thursday, June 1, 2017

Test...Is this thing on?

It is late.  I don't have time to write all that I would have hoped. I will say this...I logged into my blog for the first time in about 9 moths.  That is something.  

I promised myself I would post something on June 1 and I did.

Baby steps.

I am taking baby steps and the one thing that matters is that I am pointed in the right direction.

Love,
Tara

Monday, September 5, 2016

A Love Story


Hi everyone!

It's been a while.

In fact it has been long enough to create a human.

That's right.  

Shortly following writing my previous post... the one where I ended a relationship just as it was starting...I found out I was pregnant.

Yep. Forty years old.  Single.  Working on my activity and commitment to my church.  AND PREGNANT.

Instantly my life changed.  

I wish I could say I handled the news well.  I wish I could say I was all excitement and joy.  That is not my reality.  I was ashamed.  I was full of fear.  I was confused.  Broken. Alone. There were moments I felt excitement.  The thrill of having another child was something I had only dreamed of, especially in my situation.  

What I am about to share is the reality for me.  It is a true love story.  Not in a typical sense.  This story could have ended very differently.  There are those that may not understand this journey.  They don't have to.  This is my journey.  There are those that will relate.  There are those that will understand.  I write this for them.  

The news of my pregnancy sent me into a panic.  The darkness that has plagued me from time to time began to descend again.  It didn't take long to grab hold.  I found myself placing a call to Planned Parenthood.  I asked about my options.  Options that are not in agreement with my personal beliefs.  I am not saying what I believe is right for anyone else.  I am only saying what is right for me.  I had the appointment.  I wasn't going to tell anyone.  If I didn't tell anyone about my pregnancy and I went to  the appointment, then no one would ever have to know. Yet, I knew I would know. 

Luckily, there was also something telling me this wasn't right.  I wrestled at night with the darkness. On one hand I tried to tell myself this would be the easier choice.  Easier.  That word kept staying with me.  Easier on who?  I couldn't do it. I truly believe one day there will be an accounting.  I will face that spirit that I did not allow to come to earth and I knew he would ask me one question.  WHY?  How could I tell him I couldn't bring him to earth because I was afraid of what people would think if me?  My fear of what others would think of me led me to end his life before it began.  I didn't go to my appointment. Instead I text my previous therapist.  I hadn't seen him in a while.  

I don't remember exactly what I sent him.  Although it was something to the effect of, "I am pregnant and it is getting very dark very fast."  He responded by telling me I need to get into a therapist right away and that I needed to go to someone that shared my same beliefs.  He knew in my state I could be easily influenced.  He knew the world could see my situation and offer a solution that made everything go away.

The short story is that I got in with an amazing therapist.  He understood my dark.  He helped me understand choices and temptations.  We discussed weakness.  We discussed strength.  He shared with me that my worth does not change because of this.  He had my Bishop (leader of my faith community) come to one of my sessions.  The three of us worked through my fears, my shame and my joy.  I won't share all the details of those conversations.  I will tell you, I felt nothing but love.  There was no judgement.  There was no scolding or chastising.  There was no discussion of consequences,  Only love.  Concern.  Support.  

The next few weeks were a roller coaster of emotions for me.  We are into March.  The kids and I went to Florida for Spring Break.  Pregnancy hits my body hard and fast.  I was already having morning sickness and fatigue.  I told my kids while were on vacation.  Once we returned home I had to tell my parents.  It was Easter Sunday.  Again I won't go into all the details of the conversation except to say that again I came away with only love.  Obviously concern.  Mostly there was love and support. My dad shared with my siblings (with my approval) that were present that evening.  There was shock but always love and support.  

The next day I went to my sister.  Although there are 14 of us kids, I am not exceptionally close to many of them.  I would like to be.  This one sister has been the most involved in my life. Again, only support, concern and love.  She also stated, "It's a baby.  A baby is a miracle, a gift, no matter."  Another sister I called on the phone.  She also only focused on the gift that was coming.  

I write about all this only to share that never did I find a negative response or a harsh word from someone I shared my story with.  Yes, I did get a few bizarre text messages from acquaintances that heard through the grapevine.  However, from those around me never has there been yuck.  The yuck I experienced was all internal.

It took me quite a while to balance my emotions.  One, as sick as I was the first 16 weeks it was hard to be happy about anything.  I could barely function the nausea and vomiting was so bad. Second, I had this terrible shame to deal with.  It was completely self induced.  Early on I went to dinner with a friend.  At this point I had not told my family.  I'm not sure if I had even been to see the therapist yet.  I know I had decided to not go to my appointment with Planned Parenthood.  As we sat and talked things out I shared with her just how big I felt this burden was going to be to get through.  She said to me, "Sometimes our greatest burdens become our greatest blessings." I hung to these words.  They sustained me when the dark tried to creep in.  

Over time I started to share my news with people.  Somehow I always felt like I had to apologize to them for my situation.  It was exhausting.  I realize they didn't ask for an apology or any justification.  I just felt I had to offer it.  Eventually I stopped wanting to share my happy news for each time I shared I felt I had to offer all this other background instead of just saying, "Hey, I am pregnant."  So many would tell me not to feel that way.  Never did anyone demand an explanation.  It was all my own projecting.  I wanted to just share my joy. Instead I kept stealing from it.  Until . . .

I was seeing my midwife for a checkup visit.  It was maybe the second time I was able to hear the heartbeat.  The midwife was searching for the sound and while it was probably only a split second, there was a little bit of time before she could find it.  In that moment, that felt like eternity, all my shame, fear, regret, and justification went away.  It was in that moment I faced the idea that my child may be gone.  Fear of facing people with my truth was replaced with the fear of losing him (in my heart I already knew it was a him).  Time stopped.  I closed my eyes as they filled with tears.  I said a silent prayer that he would not be taken from me.  Nothing else mattered.  It all came into perspective in that moment.  Bring on the looks.  Bring on the questions.  Bring on the judgement.  I didn't care.  In that moment it became so suddenly clear that he was all that mattered.  Then she found the heartbeat.  And with that I got past my shame.  It was a beautiful turning point for me.



There is something else I want to share.

I have known this boy was coming for a while.  Never would I have imagined it this way but I did know.

When I was married to the father of my girls, we had planned to have two children.  I already had three.  We had our Olaya and were planning to get pregnant again relatively soon.  That all came to an end when Olaya was 9 months old and he called home from the oil field to inform me he had a girlfriend in the town he was based out of.  My marriage ended.  My staying home to raise my children ended.  The idea that I was going to have another child did not go away.  Over the years I would question Heavenly Father in my prayers why he did not take this desire away from me if there was no way for me to fulfill it.  I finally found comfort in knowing another child didn't mean I was to be pregnant.  It could easily mean adoption (I had done that once already as a single parent).  It could mean a step-child if I was to ever marry again.  Over time I allowed that desire to live in the background of my thoughts.  I knew one day I would have another child call me mother.  

Jump to October of 2015.  Don't think I am strange.  I have been closely linked to my role as a mother on a spiritual level,  I have always known the gender of my children before an ultrasound gave us the official result.  When my grandmother passed away I was comforted to know my next child would be a girl and she would carry the name of my grandmother. These promptings were never wrong.  So when I received the prompting in October I didn't get all that surprised.  The distinct notion came to me that I needed to prepare because HE was coming.  This prompting came multiple times.  At the time I was not actively doing foster care.  I had asked to only provide respite for other foster families.  In my mind it meant there was a little boy needing me through foster care.  Sure enough, soon came a call that a three year old boy needed a home and possible adoption.  I figured this was just the playing out of my prompting.  

The thing was, this sweet little boy came to me and I never felt he was truly mine.  When my daughter was placed in my arms at 10 months old, I instantly knew we were only being reunited.  I knew we had been together before this life.  I never felt she was mine, I knew I belonged to her.  Her officially adoption only made right what had been in place from the beginning.  As much as I wanted to love this little boy, I never had similar feelings for him.  Something just didn't feel quite right.  I could easily love him.  That was never the question.  Deep down I knew he was the son of another.  As it tuns out, there was a relative that had been fighting for him since the first day he was taken into foster care.  So what was I to do with this feeling that I was to get ready for my son to come?  End of February I find out I am pregnant.  I knew the child was a boy.  I sensed it from day one.  As we searched for names I could only settle on boy names.  Not a single girl name stood out.  Funny thing was I would have wanted a girl.  I already had girl clothes and girl things.  Yet, I knew the little one growing inside me was a boy.  I knew before I was ever even pregnant.

I can tell you that today, I wouldn't change a thing.  Back in February I would not have set out for this path.  Now that I am on this journey, I wouldn't change a thing.  I have been so richly blessed in so many ways.  I feel this boy inside me move and I am thrilled and anxious for the day I get to meet him.  He picked me to be his mother.   The magnitude of that blessing is not lost on me.  The emotional and spiritual journey I have taken because of him has brought me to a beautiful place.  Our story tells me there is something at work greater than myself.  I shouldn't have gotten pregnant.  It took me three years to get pregnant with my first child.  With my age, my fertility rate should be lower.  With my weight, my fertility rate should be lower.  Yes, I do know how babies are created.Yes, that did happen.  I just know, this was part of the bigger plan all along.  

So there you have it.  I am now 32 weeks pregnant.  My due date is November 1.  I am shooting for mid October as two of my pregnancies came two weeks early and one came one week early.  Hoping Mateo Antonee will follow the example of his siblings.


 MY WORLD

Monday, February 15, 2016

Rock Bottom

I have a feeling that much of what I am about to say will come out as word vomit.  Warning you now so that you don't regret jumping on this crazy train after you read this.


 
The last few months I have been working on my physical health.  Through encouragement, self determination and plain loathing for my current physical state, I have been getting in more workouts.  My food plan is high protein/low carb/high fat.  While I know this plan works for my body, I have not been consistent with sticking with it.
 
In addition, I have been battling something spiritually and emotionally.  While some of what I will touch on is based on my religion, please understand these are my choices.  No one is forcing me.  This is who I am and where I want to be . . . spiritually. 
 
A couple months ago, right around Thanksgiving, I committed to my faith and was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  With this has come many beautiful blessings.  It is what I have wanted for a very long time.  In addition, by getting baptized I committed to abstain from a few things.
 
Ok.  This part is super hard.  So much doubt, confusion and even some anger is settling in right now.  Typing this out is bringing tears with each keystroke. 
 
This is my truth.  I wish no harm to my family of friends that may take offense of be taken back by what I am sharing.  This is my story.  I can't hide from it.
 
As a teen I was always a little over weight.  Nearing my sixteenth birthday I distinctly remember my mother saying to me how happy she was it would be my sweet sixteenth and never been kissed.  Well, this wasn't the case at all.  I had kissed boys.  Then there was another conversation that I remember her telling me that she was grateful I was a little heavy because it had kept the boys away during my teen dating years.  This came after a conversation about some neighborhood girls that had gotten pregnant very young or were causing their parents stress due to their dating and boy crazy behaviors. 
 
The thing was...I had lots of male attention.  I had been kissed.  Much more than just kissed.  I never went without a boyfriend.  Yet somehow in my mind I associated being fat with being less desirable to the other gender.  Never would I begin to imagine my mother meant harm from her comment.  I know her reading this will not sit well.  She never meant harm.  I believe she was really meaning to say she was happy with my choices during the beginning of high hormone years.  Yet, my mind has held to that comment to this day. 
 
The thing is I have struggled my entire life with seeking validation through physical.  It is my way to feel loved, valued and of worth.  It is the way I show love. Touch is my language.  So without getting into to much detail, my membership in my faith was taken away because of actions of immorality.  Basically I have had sex and not been married.
 
Fast forward...today I am trying (like I have never tried before) to stay morally clean as I work to return to the temple. Somehow my mind interprets that as eat everything in sight because the boys will stay away if I am heavy.
 
There... I said it.  It is like deep down I feel if I can only get heavy enough I will no longer be a temptation to men and I can move forward with my desire to stay morally clean.  YES! I see all the flaws in that thinking.  One, no matter how heavy I have been, I have never lacked male attention. Two, it takes all the power and gives it to someone else.  
 
The crazy part is all these negative thoughts are happening at the same time I am working so hard to change my health.  Workouts.  Following a food plan.  Reading from personal development. 
 
It is enough to make me crazy.  My weight has continued to go up since the day I got baptized.  This piece of me does not trust that I can make choices that are in balance with my spiritual choices so I am self-sabotaging with food and gaining weight to become undesirable. 
 
DOES THAT MAKE SENSE TO ANYONE???
 
I can't keep doing this.  This crazy train has to stop and I want off.  I have to find a place where I am okay taking care of my body physically (workouts, losing weight, looking and feeling good) and be able to move forward to my spiritual goals.  I want to look and feel strong and beautiful and be able to move forward with attending the temple.
 
And another thing....this weight....it isn't keeping the boys away.  They keep coming.  So why am I doing this to myself? 
 

I am aware this won't happen overnight.  I know my way of thinking has been with me for so long that it will take daily work to change it.  I am willing to do the work.  My silence the last little while has been me working through all this.  I have had to understand it to a point that I could even begin to say the words and speak my truth.    
 
 

 
Today is a new day.  It's my rock bottom. 
 
This day started with me letting a male suitor know that I wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship with him any further (actually told him as I was in the middle of writing this).  His attention and assertive actions to be with me were highly attractive.  That is where it ended.  My old way of thinking would be to allow this relationship to continue while I contorted myself to what he needed and never once asking for what I needed.  I can't do that anymore.  My value doesn't come from the man that stands beside me.  In fact it doesn't come from the absence of someone beside me.  My value is based on me.  I am finally understanding this fully.
 

I can find a place where my physical, emotional and spiritual goals are met. I wish pursuing one didn't mean a struggle in another.  Such is my life.  The one thing I can say is that I am not quitting.

 
 
This morning I came across a picture I posted to Facebook on this day three years ago.  I'm fighting to be her again.  That girl was fighting.  I will get back to that point and push further.  I have done it once.  I will do it again.
 
Okay, just a glimpse in my world....as I type this my two littles have now joined me.  They are spraying my hair with water, combing it soft and putting crazy ponytails in it.  I think I am done being introspective for now.
 
Time to get after this day.
 
Remember, I stated at the beginning this post was a little unorganized.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

I'm Not So Good At Letting Go

A few years ago I went on trip to a place that quickly captured my heart. The things I saw...the things I felt...the things I shared...the person I shared them with.  Every moment was breathtaking.  The landscape consumed all my senses.  Leaving broke my heart.  The one thing I took with me was this little piece of baked clay from a local shop filled with pieces created by local artists.  Not exactly sure what it was, I used it as a jewelry dish in my bedroom.  Since the day I returned home, every time I saw that dish my thoughts were taken back to the short time I spent in that beautiful place and the person I shared it with. 
 
Image Credit Here
 
 
Over time, memory of that experience began to blur.  Time has a way of changing, distorting and allowing us to forget.  Promises made.  Promises broken.
 
In addition, objects brake.  One day my dish dropped from my grasp.  I was holding it.  Then....I wasn't. It fell right out of my hands.  I couldn't stop it.  I watched it happen.  There was nothing I could do to keep the dish whole.
 
As I picked up the pieces, I swore I would glue it back together.  I would fix it.  I could do this.  As I collected the pieces off the floor it was easy to see how they fit back together.  With the right glue and extra care, I was determined to have my special dish back to normal.
 
However, that's not what happened.  I never bought the glue.  The broken pieces got lost.  I kept using my dish.  Every day remembering the happy time and happy place when it became mine.  I held on. I justified that even in this broken state, the dish still held value.  It still had a purpose.  Yes, it did. It still worked to some degree.  I could still place my rings and necklace in the dish each night and retrieve them each morning. Although now, I wasn't reminded of that happy place.  Each time I looked at my dish I thought of the broken.  I felt it every single time.  The thing that once reminded me of joy, now reminded me of what I once had. 
 
And still I kept that dish.
 
       
Until now

I kept holding on.  What purpose is served to remind myself every day of what once was or what was once promised?  How does that move me forward? 

So my beautiful dish...the color of my eyes....the clay from the land where I fell in love...purchased with a lover by my side and so many promises of a future together...this is goodbye.  You said goodbye to me so very long ago.  You told me your usefulness in my life was over long before I was ready to accept it.

I'm not good at this part . . . letting go.  I never have been even though I have had an ample share of goodbye's.  I have held to the memory of that happy time.  Although this dish brought me angst and pain it also reminded me of love, joy and hope. I can't keep having the back and forth.

It's done.  It's gone. 

No jewelry dish.  I'm letting go.    

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Learning To Care For Myself

It is so easy for me to get lost in the care of those I love.  If you are in my circle and tell me you are hurting, I will be there.  Dang, if you are not in my circle and tell me you are hurting, I will be there.  It is who I am.  This is not something I am ashamed of.  Caring for other, meeting the needs of others, nurturing...these are all things that bring me joy.  They do until I lose myself in it...and not in the good way. 

Honestly, I don't know if I know how to care for others and still maintain who I am and what I need.  For example, my son had surgery on the hematoma that he received Aug 7 after a tangle with a 4 wheeler.

Very quickly we went from this
 to this

to this

 which led to this.
 

Since surgery on Aug 28, we have continued to go in every other day for wound vac change. 

I don't regret any moment caring for my children.  Their health and safety is my first priority.  Like any parent, I am willing to go without to give them what they need.

However, this does not come without a cost.  This month I believe I have gained 10lbs.  I stopped getting in my daily workouts.  I stopped eating the way that is best for my body.  I DID drink my shakeology every day....I did at least that one good thing for myself each day.  I wasn't getting the sleep I needed. 

The thing I noticed the last little while is that I started getting super grumpy.  I became short with my kids.  The slightest thing would set me off. It wasn't pretty and I am not pleased with this.  Something needed to change for them and me.

Every day for the last two weeks I have woke up determined to eat clean and workout.  Let's just say each day I have gone to bed feeling broken and defeated.  I didn't do what I thought I was determined to do.  I just couldn't find my why.  This does not make for a good mental state. 

It was confirmed to me yet again that we are provided what we need when we need it.  I have been angry with myself.  Maybe I can explain it like this:

Say your child does something that they know they should not have.  You find out.  What is one of the first things you ask them?  Why?  Why did you do this?  Most often the response is, "I don't know."  I didn't always understand this but the truth is they most likely do not know why they did it.  They just did it. 

This is how I have felt about myself.  I know how to achieve my goals.  I have the resources I need to achieve my goals.  I just haven't.  Why did I eat that?  Why didn't I get up when my alarm went off?  Why? Why? Why?

I DON'T KNOW!!!!

I don't know.  I don't know the exact reason.  There are many to chose from.  The main point is all this the last few weeks has made me angry.  Just so happens I was reading in The Compound Effect today and the author was describing how anger is a great motivator.  Anger can call people to action.  Anger can make the silent, vocal.  Funny thing being angry with myself was quite possibly exactly what I needed.

Today I ate on my plan.

Today I listened a podcast from Shrinking Obesity and then read from The Compound Effect.

Today I moved my body.

Today I took all my Beachbody Performance Line Supplements.

Today I changed the dialogue running in my head (did you know we have the power to alter that?).

Today I modeled healthy behaviors for my children.


I completed Body Beast Legs.

Followed it up with Cize Full Out.
My girls joined me for Cize.  We are loving dancing together.

video


And finally this evening I took new Before pics.  I have been hiding not wanting to take these.  In fact I was in a group this last month where I was asked to take before and after pics as part of the group requirements.  I didn't take the before pics because (get this) I didn't think the after would show any difference.  How is that for self fulfilling prophecy? 

Enough of that.  I took them.  On October 8 I will put on these same clothes and take them again.  There will be a change.  I will be happy with my results. 



This girls does not begin to think she has all the answers.  (Why am I typing in third person)  I have fallen.  I have rested.  I have been trampled on.  I also get up each time I fall.  I am getting up!

Whatever it takes!

If you are interested in any of the Beachbody programs please visit my affiliate link. 

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Better Late Than Never



As September approached I had ideas of a great new start.  New season.  New month. New week.  There is something about the turning of the calendar that gives me hope and renewal.  My plan was to announce a group of like minded people and enjoy September from day one with each day moving towards more of my health focused goals.

And then life happened. After a four-wheeler accident on August 7, my son FINALLY got to the person we needed and surgery was performed on Aug 28.





He did fabulous and is healing wonderful with the help of a wound vac.  This is everything that I have prayed for.  That said, school had also just started that week.


New routine after the end of our summer fun has thrown all of us.  So my point is, September 1 came...and September 1 went.  I never set up my group.  I never posted for people to join me.  With everything going on I believe I pulled away from social media the last week to a great extent. 

And then came the internal guilt.  I want o reach my goals.  I felt I missed my window.  The first passed.  Thought I could pull it together on the second.  The second passed.  On Thursday the third we did pull together at the last minute a celebration of joy party.  As a family we were so tired of all the yuck from August
  • lost both of our Newfoundland's within a 48 hour period.  Their deaths hit us hard.
  • three of us had strep
  • Keaton had his accident
  • three weeks of hematoma getting worse and worse
  • two of my childhood friends took their own lives
We decided to have a party.  Keaton and Isabella both had a birthday in August.  We did celebrate but we never did have cake and ice cream.



We sent out text invites and it was a joy to see our home filled with family and friends. It was even better to forget all the struggles for an evening and focus on the joy in our lives...of which there is much.

So as each day passed the story I started to tell myself was that I wasn't worth running a group or achieving my goals.  I started telling myself I was a phony because I couldn't pull it together when I wanted to do it.  For a minute I started to believe those stories.  I saw some things on FB that tore away some more at my self image and I decided I wasn't going to try to run the group.

Then I thought of a friend.  She had awesome success last month.  She happened to be in one of my challenge groups.  She did the work on her own but the accountability helped her stay focused.  I reached out to her and she agreed the lack of accountability the last week had thrown her a little. 

See I need the groups and it appears those in the groups need them as well.  There is something about checking in each day (in a safe place) that helps keep us on track and when we get of track it helps get us back on.

I start today.  I am creating my group super quick and will add people as the month goes on.  There are a few ready to go.  I am ready to go.  I need the accountability.  I need the community. 

In addition....I am going to blog.  I can't commit to it happening often.  My life is super busy and if I miss my expectation those stories will start back up.  I am shooting for weekly to start.  One post a week will keep me going for now and if I get more in even better.

I may be starting late.
I may be the turtle in the group.
I have so much to learn.
I still battle those stories I tell myself.


Late is better than never.
Turtles finish the race.
I have come so far already.
Those stories can change when I do the work.

I know I have been here before.  I know I have had these fresh starts before.  I know that as long as I don't quit, I have not failed.

My group is forming now.  We will start a prep week Monday, September 7.  We will officially launch Monday, September 14.

If you are interested.....even a little...contact me. 

If you can relate to something in my story we need to connect.  I need you.  You need me.
  • Obese the majority of my adult life
  • food addictions
  • food triggers
  • experience depression
  • mother
  • single parent
  • employed full-time
  • desire to stay active
  • desire to eat health
  • desire to teach your children better habits
  • pre-diabetic or diabetic
  • have children with weight concerns
  • body image issues
If you relate to any of these things....contact me at
wortheveryounce@gmail.com
www.facebook.com/wortheveryounce

We need each other.