Tag Archives: wellness

Green

I swear I go through moods, and ideas, and themes, like a toddler in a candy store. I am back in the “I don’t really like myself as I am” phase, so I am trying something that a nurse recommended to try. “What is it?” you ask. Well, let me tell you, this is a blended to liquid mixture of about 3 cups raw spinach, 3 pineapple chunks, and 1 banana. It’s, honestly, not terrible, but the texture is odd. You cannot taste the greens, but if you decide to try this, be warned about the texture. (The nurse did warn me that the would go “right through me” so I am sticking close to home. Depending on how I do with this, I may try to incorporate it into my daily routine as a meal; see if it helps me lose some of myself.

IMG_1449

Mirror, Mirror

Over the course of this blog, it has morphed from this, to that, to something in outer space, and back to Earth as something else all together. Wow, I’ve either covered a lot of ground, or I have a lot to say, or I just share whatever is rolling around in my mind…I guess that third option pretty well covers it. Now it seems Im going to write about what I started with so very long (almost 2 years?!?) ago.

Back in July 2013 I stepped on the scale and crumbled inside myself at the number. It was an eye opener, that’s for sure (you can read it here). I made the decision then and there to improve myself, eat healthier, get exercise, become fit versus the fat. I went to a local gym, joined immediately, and signed up for twice weekly sessions with a trainer, who I went on to refer to as Sadist in follow up posts.I was focused, dedicated, and happily workingman ass off and stress out of my system. Then the inevitable happened…

I burned out. I went too hard, too fast, and my mind, my focus, blipped out. When I worked out it was, admittedly half assed. I gave up on myself. The shame and embarrassment were back, stronger than ever. I tried to like myself, pretending that I did, but looking in the mirror grew more and more difficult.

Life and death happened. Books closed and new books with fresh pages opened for me to write the new part of my life on…and I have written. I can spin tales, smiling while I do, making everyone believe the lies are truth. Everyone, that is, except for me.

FullSizeRender

I hate the mirror. When I do look at it, I hate what I see when my eyes travel lower than my face because that is when I see the truth. What I see and how I react to it? They’re neither one healthy. No, there’s no self harming. But the constant, persistent voice inside my head is back, like an achy tooth. It nags at me, when I look in the mirror.

I’m back to square one, with a lot more weight than I had twenty-two months ago. I need to get back. I need to move. I need to focus. I need to succeed.

I have to start.

No Photographs, Please!

Wow. There’s nothing like a new low. I live with it every day, facing it and actively ignoring it. that is until a pivotal moment that gobsmacked me. Going about my day-to-day existence knowing in the back of my head what’s coming. Today was that clarifying, or re-clarifying, moment.

I spent a week sitting on my butt in a hotel learning about writing, what I need to do to create the best manuscript I can, how to query and pitch it, and to never stop learning. Meeting some truly fabulous people in the industry from publishers, agents, editors, authors, and cover models. And I was going to set about snapping my picture throughout the events. That was until I looked at myself in the pictures.

I’m back to being the woman I once was, insecure, unhappy, and way too heavy. Time to figure out a new way to fix and find myself. I have absolutely no idea what the current number on the scale says; don’t really care right now, to be honest. It’s too much, by a lot… 70 pounds minimum, could even be close to topping out at 100 pounds of too damn much.

Eff me. How, or rather why do I do this to myself? I’m an embarrassment to myself, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my kids were not embarrassed by me as well. What a way to represent.

So, I need to drop as much weight as humanly possible before next Memorial Day, in time for my daughters graduation. Here I go again…

#ImNoAngel

I had a dream the other night, one that had the sleeping me feeling so light and joyous, so much so that after I woke and cleared the cobwebs from my brain, I was still feeling the lingering happiness from it. I remember smiling as I swung my legs out of bed, my feet hitting the floor before starting my morning. I don’t know if anyone else has ever experienced a dream as completely as I did that night? I can only hope that you have, or will.

What was the dream? (It’s going to sound very narcissistic, but I promise its not!) I was, in my dream, my minds eye, so happy and thrilled with the look, share, and contours of my body, but most especially my stomach. The dream me had a flatter stomach, shapely thighs, and a waist that curved the way it’s supposed to.

After my feet hit the floor, still riding on that sleep high, I walked into the bathroom and turned on the light, looking at myself critically. The difference was, this time I was more accepting of myself. Was this a result of the dream? Or was it a result of a challenge that a friend gives me every once in a while while we are at lunch, having me name one thing I love about myself that day? Or was it me finally listening to my own words that I share with others, trying to get them to change their way of thinking? I don’t know. Was I happy with my body when I looked in the mirror that morning? No, not 100%. I know I have room for improvement, but its nice to not be as repulsed as I once was. I am still a work in progress.

Then this morning, checking my email before crawling out of bed to start my day, there was an email from Lane Bryant with their new campaign, #ImNoAngel, designed to represent the beautiful, amazing, real, average woman whose size falls in the spectrum larger than a 10. The #ImNoAngel message was beautiful put:

Some say

That sexy is defined

In just one way

But I say

It’s how I feel

It’s who I am

I’m all woman

A symbol of confidence

Who writes her own rules

And sometimes breaks them too

I’m beautiful

From my soul out to my skin

Loving every part of me

No matter what I’m in

I’m a woman

Unique and complete

I break the mold

Throw out the old

I’m all kinds of sexy

Movin’ On

Sometimes I wonder if Julie Andrews was right when,  from high atop a mountaintop in Austria, arms spread wide, she sings, “Climb every mountain, search high and low, follow every by way, every path you know… ”

I’ve talked in past blogs (I think) that a lot of life is based on perspective. A good friend of mine was advised to try and change perspective instead of letting things bother them so much. And they tried to, succeeding more often than not, but it seemed that finally the ability to change perspective just gets to be too much, that there are nor other options. No other glasses to look through. No kaleidoscope to peer through in hopes of seeing something -anything- better than it is.

You’ve lived on this mountain, trying everything to see better. You keep climbing up it, fighting battles, weathering all types of storms along the way. You either make it to the top, or you just know that that climb is too difficult.  Sometimes when you get to that point, at least to my way of thinking, its time to take drastic changes. If you don’t like the view that you have where you’re standing at, maybe its time to move to a new mountain.

You have the ability to change what you see, and how you see it. If you’re not happy, your friends will try their damnedest to cheer you up, but more often than not, the change, or choice, to be happy resides in you.  Is it easy? Nope. Is it scary? Hell, yes. Are you with taking the chance on? Absolutely. Go for it!7b7440cc3ac22a93fc7fbd164437f060