Lost at Sea

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Uncomfortable in my own skin, hiding in my baggiest clothes that no longer fit me, sick all the time, drawn in and hiding, pushing to get from day to day, I was my own worst critic and I not so silently battled how I was feeling every day. I lashed out, and was short tempered. I never wanted to do anything and was much happier under the cloak of my comforter.

It should have been like that! I was a 20 year old mostly newly wed who found herself at her heaviest and unhealthiest to date. I had let the stress of life and everything that came with it get the best of me, and there wasn’t much of me left. My hubby was briefly unemployed then working what ever kind of job he could find, even if it meant working 3rd shift, then 3rd shift in a different state, then 70 hrs a week in a high intensity factory. We never saw each other. I was working while attending college full time and trying to navigate the purchase of our first home as we lived in a 3bd/2ba house with four other people. It wasn’t how I pictured my ‘happily ever after’ and I stress ate my feelings. Hoping somewhere in the pile of junk and hours of mindless television I’d find solace, even if just for a moment.

Well I didn’t find it. In fact what I found was myself hiding in my biggest clothes until even those stopped fitting, I was constantly sick and had zero energy, I stopped wanting to do anything, I hid from the camera and avoided all new experiences. I thought my ‘funk’ I was in was all mental, a product of being a newlywed in a new town fighting for the ‘proper’ new beginning I had in my head. But when I found myself at the doctor for easily the 11th time since moving (12 months beforehand) and their scale read 37 lbs heavier than the weight I was on my wedding day, not even a year and a half later, I wanted to ugly cry. Add in getting fussed at over my blood pressure, nutrition and water intake and I felt like the victim. I was mad at my doctor and over the next few weeks I sort of listened. I spent less time on my bum, I ate a few less fries and tried to get moving. But I didn’t know what I was doing, didn’t know how to fix it and gave up.

It wasn’t until I realized that I had done this to myself, that I was responsible for the way I felt that I could fix it, but how? My whole life I’ve been a quitter: gymnastics, dance, girl scouts, soccer, softball, world language club, heck even college. Why? because it gets a little hard and I take the easy way out. No wonder I ended up so miserable! My ENTIRE life I have been called ‘weak’ or ‘little’ and somewhere along the way I let that sink in to my subconscious and started to believe it. Only now not only was I lacking strength, but I also wasn’t the ‘little’ part anymore. An adjective that used to irritate me beyond all get out was now something that I longed to be true.

I decided to stop being a ‘once in a while kind of person’, I needed to go all in if I was going to see a change. I needed to do this for my health and the health of my marriage. I had no idea what I was doing and I needed a plan. I started with Insanity, have and dabbled in T25, 21 Day Fix and PiYo losing 25 lbs. I have developed a love for running and have done multiple 5Ks, an 8K and a half marathon.

It wasn’t until I started doing things I thought I couldn’t that I realized just how strong I can be. I’m in this business for the days when my strength fails me and the self doubt rears it’s ugly head, I’m here for the support along the way and to have the connection with someone else so that we can push each other to be stronger than we’ve ever been mentally and physically.

It has been a back and forth battle, one I fight in everyday.

I will be starting BodyBeast tomorrow.

I’ve got new adjectives in mind, ‘fit’, ‘strong’, ‘confident’, ‘finisher’.

…and oh by the way, I’m still fighting to complete program beginning to end with no skips or cheats. I still have to remind myself that mini red velvet cupcakes aren’t the answer to my problems. Sometimes I catch myself thinking like I used to and literally have to mentally tell myself to shut up.

I’m not perfect, I don’t claim to be.

This is my journey and I’m finally the one steering the boat.

Raindrops, Thunder and Lightning, OH MY!

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We have two furbabies, Minion a male 19 month old German Shepherd and Annabelle a female 30 month old Mini Daschund/Terrier Mix. We’ve had them both since they were only a few weeks old and they truly are part of the family. That being said, I treat them like children. So no judging in any of my stories of their antics. I am neither crazy nor mean, I just find them amusing.

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Minion has just reached the age where he can begin learning to run, before 18 months their bones are not finished developing and training them to run can actually cause their bones to grow improperly and increase their chances of getting hip dysplasia at a later date which is already a common ailment of large dogs. We’ve only been training for a couple weeks now, but given the set routine of our run and the intelligence level of shepherds, he’s catching on quickly. Friday night we had some terrible storms blow in that not only cancelled our run, but also a local Eric Paslay Concert at the Waterfestival.

With all our plans ruined and our power flickering there wasn’t much to do, I washed the dishes from dinner with my four legged shadow following right behind me, which is totally the norm except now he was looking at me with his big sad eyes and whining. He even brought me his leash. I put it back and he continued to follow me.

I was grabbing a post dinner yogurt when his ornery little self decided to start sniffing around the countertops. He knocked down a small glass that bounced off his nose and shattered on my foot. The second it made impact with the ground he ran himself into his bed and covered his face.

Meanwhile, I’m stuck standing on one foot trying to balance on the outside of my foot so I don’t bring myself down on the glass that is surrounding me…oh and yelling to my husband to grab shoes and come help me, hoping he can hear me over his headset.

Luckily it only took a minute before he came to my rescue and cleaned up all the glass before any body got hurt. Minion and I both walked away without anything bigger than a few scratches on my legs from the bounce. (this entire time Annabelle has been curled up in my hubby’s lap while he plays Xbox, they play favorites)

He continued to follow me as I folded laundry and settled to read a book. There was finally a lull in the rain long enough for me to attempt to let them out. Just after opening the door with Minion sticking his nose through the doorway a huge symphony sized crash of thunder and accompanying lightning cuts through the air and literally scares the pee out of my poor baby! He ran all the way to our bedroom and buried his face under the pillows. I didn’t know whether to laugh, be mad about the pee in my house or feel bad for him. I chose to laugh while I cleaned it up and let this guy cuddle me until the storm finally stopped.

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