The truth will set you free

“Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom.” ~Thomas Jefferson

I began writing in this blog as a way to get all the random thoughts out of my head, but also as a way to tell my story.  But as I look back, I realize I haven’t necessarily been upfront and honest.  I haven’t necessarily given all the facts and explained the whole situation. Mostly, this is due to fear. And judgement from people.  And to be perfectly frank, I’m tired of hiding behind fear.

I guess you could say it all began with a trip to Oregon.  At first I was excited.  A trip to the West Coast with a bunch of friends from work and a few days off from the kids to go along with it.  What’s not to love?

Then I remembered that I would have to take an airplane.  Then I remembered I would have to fit into an airplane seat and buckle my seat belt.  Then I remembered every single article I have ever come across about airlines who kick people off the plane for being too fat.  Then I remembered that maybe I would miss my kids and I shouldn’t go after all.

I belonged to a gym, joined in some arbitrary moment of “I can do this!” but at that point my workouts consisted of the 5 minutes I could stand on the elliptical or treadmill and then 30 minutes on the sit down bike.  Throw in a couple of easy strength exercises on the machines, and I thought I was actually accomplishing something.  The fear of getting on the plane and being embarrassed in front of people I had to work with motivated me to do something I had never done before…buy a scale.

After searching for what seemed like hours at a K-mart next to the gym, I finally found one.  I raced home, carried it up to the bathroom, and after ripping off every ounce of clothing and all hair accessories that could add weigh, I gingerly stepped on the scale.

331.

No, that is not a typo.  That was the actual number.  And while I didn’t want it to be true, I knew it was.  I sat down on the bathroom floor and cried for about 10 minutes.  How had it gotten this bad?  How had I let myself get this far gone?  Once I got control of myself, I got up, got dressed, and came up with a plan.  That summer I worked my butt off and in two months (right before my flight) I had lost 20 pounds.  I know that’s not a lot, but to me it was everything.  It represented that I could actually do this.

Long story short, they didn’t kick me off the plane, though I did need a seat belt extender.  But the heart wrenching fear I felt as I approached that first plane was probably the worst in my life. I didn’t sleep for nearly a week.  I vowed that I would continue working out when I got home and would get myself to a healthy place.

And I did.  For awhile. Until once again, life got in the way.  That fall I worked out here and there, but nothing significant.  Between two kids under 3, teaching kindergarten, and trying to be a good wife and mother, I never seemed to find time for the gym.  Finally in January, after realizing I had gained back 12 pounds (bringing me back up to 321) a friend and I decided to sign up for the Y-fit challenge (the YMCA’s version of the biggest loser).  And through that I fell in love with working out.  I lost about 35 pounds, completed my first 5-K and began to gain back some of the confidence I so desperately needed.

And then, as most stories go, my world turned upside down.  During the summer (on my last day of school) my dad died.  We had a rather tumultuous relationship (see posts from then) and I didn’t think it would really affect me.  But it did.  In ways that I will never quite understand.  And the gym took a back burner yet again.  Luckily, I only gained about 5 pounds, but by the time school started again, I was a jumbled wreck.  I didn’t know what was up or down or right or wrong.  All I knew was that I needed something to change.  I needed to be saved.

So I went for a run.  And really, that is the true beginning of my story.  Because on that day I was reborn.  I learned that I can decide how my life is going to go.  I am in charge of myself, my decisions, and my happiness.  I can decide to begin to heal, and grow, and change for the better.  And I did. Or, at the very least I’m in the process.

Over the months I ran occasionally, went to the gym, got injured, and then began again and again.  In January, on the eve of my 33 birthday, I hit my 50 pound mark (60 if you count from my pre-plane freak out weight).  And I’m still going.

I was looking back on old pictures today.  Pictures from pre-kids, pictures from post-kids, pictures from last year, last week, last month and I can’t believe the difference.  It’s not even just the weight, but the confidence, the happiness, the fact that there are more pictures now than there were before.  These are all indicators that maybe this time is the right time.  Maybe I’m finally exactly where I need to be.

And at 269 pounds I am currently running 15 miles a week and training for my first half marathon in the fall.  While I still have so far to go, I’ve never felt better.  I’m ready to begin this new chapter in my life.

I had to start and stop, begin and end, give up and keep going, numerous times to get to this point.

But if I can do it, so can anyone.  If I can do it, so can you.

2009-2013

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The last 10 months…

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Breath in, breath out, let go.

“Sometimes life knocks you on your ass… get up, get up, get up!!! Happiness is not the absence of problems, it’s the ability to deal with them.” ~Steve Maraboli

I haven’t posted in quite some time (almost 3 weeks!) and really, I have no good reason.  The truth is, I had a pretty sad few weeks in February.  I don’t know why, I never know why, it is what it is.  I barely ran at all…and when I did, it wasn’t good.  I couldn’t get in the mindset of it.  I couldn’t get past how tired my legs and feet were.  I couldn’t get past how slow I was going.  So in typical me fashion, I stopped.  And while my muscles may have felt better (I was still going to the gym), my mind didn’t.

Then Wednesday I woke up at 4:30 in the morning and couldn’t get back to sleep.  So, I figured, why not go for a run.  Even if I wound up walking it, it was still a form of exercise.  But as soon as I stepped foot outside and started running, the world seemed to drift away and all my problems and worries and anxieties went with it.  After two miles I still felt great so I finished up another half mile before heading home to get ready for work.  And it felt so good to be out of my head for that amount of time, just me and my music in the dark morning, that I got up the next morning and did 3 more.  And then did more on the treadmill on the gym the following morning.  And then did another 3 today.

While I know this is beating a dead horse (as I seem to state it every 5 minutes), I can’t believe how far I’ve come.  I remember a almost a year ago taking part in my first 5K and not believing that I was able to complete it at all just by walking.  Now, I’ve signed up for a half-marathon, a feat I never thought I would accomplish.  I remember week three of couch to 5K and feeling like I was going to die when I had to run for a 5 minute stretch.  And now I’ve run at least 3 miles multiple times.  I remember, in the beginning, after any run, I would pretty much be immobile for the rest of the day.  And just today, I ran 3 miles, then walked another 2 with the littles later on in the afternoon.

With every step I could feel myself letting go of the things that have been weighing me down.  I could feel my strength returning, knowing I was going to be able to handle the new challenges that would come my way.  I could feel my head clearing, seeing answers that have been in front me me all along.

That doesn’t mean, my world has dramatically changed. There are going to be bad days and bad weeks and maybe even bad months.  My problems aren’t going to go away.  My stresses will probably be multiplied over time.  But I need to remember the feeling I am having this week.  The feeling that I can accomplish things.  The feeling that I can get out of my head and leave my worries behind, at least for a little while.  The feeling that I am the one who decides which way my life should go by the choices that I make.

Because every moment is filled with these choices.  Run or don’t run, move on or stay put, feel sad or feel happy, hold on or let go?

100 Mile Challenge Miles Completed: 46.7

Current Weekly Miles: 12

The Long Way Home

“You live but once, you might as well be amusing.” ~Coco Chanel

Do you ever get that feeling that you know you want to write but you have no idea what you are going to say?  That’s how I feel at this moment.  I feel like I’ve been writing this post in my head all week, but when I sit to write, nothing is actually coming out.

My workout schedule is going well and I have managed to follow it for two weeks.  Now that I’m running more and going to the gym less I know I need to work more on my stretching and strength training.  I neglected it this week, and after my run today I can definitely feel it.

I started talking up the fact that I signed up for the Baltimore Half Marathon to some friends at work and a lot of people seem really interested.  A few have even signed up already.  It really shows me how much I have grown during my running and since the summer.

6 months ago, if someone had said something about going running with me or running a race with me I would have laughed and tried to figure out some way to get out of it.  I would have been too embarrassed about my size, my ability, and my speed to even contemplate running near someone I know.  Even today when I decided to run this afternoon instead of tomorrow (too busy, more snow) I ran in broad daylight in my tight running pants singing along (rather softly) to my music.  I was super slow with all the snow and ice, I wore an old ratty t-shirt, and sweat was dripping down my face and I just didn’t care.

And the fact is, why should I?  I’m doing this for me, not for anyone else.  Sure, the more the merrier.  I love when I hear that I have motivated someone to run or workout, and I am still desperately searching for a (non-speedy) running buddy, but that’s not why I am doing what I do.  I have no problem being friend or a motivator or a cheerleader for anyone who needs it.  I don’t know what I would have done without mine.  But the days are gone where I always need someone to hold my hand and go with me as I jumped into the unknown abyss.  I no longer feel the need for the outside reassurance that I so constantly craved.

I stepped on the scale today for the first time since I hit my 50 pound mark.  And guess what.  I’m still at the 50 pound mark.  This would have bothered me before, but not now.  I know my clothes are getting looser, even the next size down for some of my items is too big.  The number on the scale doesn’t define me like it once did.  While it took me a long time to figure it out, that’s not what this running journey is about anyway.

Every day I remember why I started running in the first place.  August, and the summer in general, had been tough and one day I had had enough.  I was depressed, and moody, and couldn’t find joy in even the smallest things.  I didn’t want to feel like that anymore.  So I went for a run.  Or really, not even a run, as I couldn’t even run a quarter of a mile without stopping for a break.  And while I didn’t get serious about it until January, it quite literally saved my life, and continues to do so every time I venture out.  The first mile is always the hardest, but once I hit it, I feel like there is no stopping me.

I know I’m still super slow.  I know I don’t look like all the other runners out there.  And frankly, I just don’t care.  Months ago I would have.  Months ago I wouldn’t have even thought to run when other runners, “real runners” might be out there.  I didn’t want to embarrass myself.  But with the smiles and waves I got today as I trudged along through the snow and slush, I know no one is judging me except for me.

And right now, I’m feeling pretty fabulous.

100 Mile Challenge Miles Completed: 24

Weeks to the Baltimore Half Marathon: 35

Current Weekly Miles: 9

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What Goes Up…

“We may encounter defeats, but we must not be defeated.” ~Maya Angelou

I guess I should start with the good.

I finally hit my 100 Mile Challenge miles.  On Martin Luther King Day.  I can’t believe I finally did it.  So what do I do to celebrate?  Made another challenge.  Now instead of running and walking 100 miles, I plan on running 100 miles by the end of April.  If I stick with the new training plan I’ve come up with, and it stops freaking snowing, it shouldn’t be a problem.

Also, I finally it my 5o pound mark.  I have officially lost 50 pounds as of January 25 (the eve of my 33rd birthday).  I can’t believe it.  It has done nothing but motivate me to lose another 50.

Plus, I ordered new running clothes from Old Navy in my normal sizes.  Which I now have to return because they are too damn big.

And yet…

I have to admit, it doesn’t take a lot to make me feel defeated.  More likely than not, it’s because I’m not used to failing.  I usually don’t try things that I know I might fail and because I have such a deep seated fear of failure, I usually accomplish everything I set out to, no matter the cost.  But on Wednesday, I went out for my run.  It was supposed to be 2 miles, but after a mile I decided to call it quits.  It was cold (as in literally 3 degrees), I was tired, I did over 3 miles on the elliptical at the gym the night before, and really, the list could go on and on.  I probably could have kept going for that two miles, but I didn’t want to, so I didn’t. And for the rest of the evening, I was in a funk, mad at myself that I didn’t finish what I was supposed to.

And you know what?  I haven’t been running since the night I quit early.  This is what I always do.  I do what I want to do, and don’t do things I don’t want to do.  Plain and simple.  It’s pretty selfish, if you think about it.  I have trouble pushing myself past the comfortable.  I have trouble pushing myself, period.  I don’t like pain, I don’t like to feel uncomfortable so I do everything in my power to avoid it, whether that be in my workouts, at my job, or in my personal life.  And because I don’t like to be uncomfortable and because I don’t like to fail, I don’t take risks. And I need to start.

So what does a girl who needs motivation and needs to take a big risk in order to push herself do?  She signs up for a half-marathon.

Oh yes, you read that right.  I signed up for the Baltimore Half-Marathon.  13.1 miles.  At one time. In front of other people.  With real runners who don’t “trot”.  I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to run the whole thing.  I can’t even guarantee that I’ll finish.

And I’m sure people will laugh when I tell them. But I like a good challenge.  And I’ve come this far.

Plus, you should see how motivated I am when people say I can’t do something…

So here’s a toast to new life choices, to challenges, to proving others wrong, and to simply proving to myself that I can do this.

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Why walk when you can fly

“Because that’s the thing, the day before your life changes forever, it’s just like any other day.”

Finally, finally, finally.

Saturdays are a dreaded day.  The day I get on the scale.  I was worried about it, to be honest.  I was sick this week and didn’t really give it all my all.  So, I screwed my eyes up tight, got on a peaked at the number.  And it was lower.  Not by a lot, but by 1.4 pounds.  Which puts me at the lowest weight I’ve been since before Max was born.  Which puts me at 2.4 measly pounds until I hit 50 pounds lost.

And it’s those 1.4 pounds that make me realize that I can do this.  Since May my weight has been pretty consistent, gaining 1 or 2, losing 1 or 2, but never really going anywhere.  Not that I could blame it.  I wasn’t really doing anything to help it along.  I’d work out here and there, eat healthy here and there, run here and there, but never enough to amount to anything, and never enough for it to stick.

After a rocky 6 months, I’m finally ready to get back on track…and I am getting back on track. I feel like within the past three weeks, something has really clicked.  I’ve been able to stay on the healthy eating train.  I’ve stopped drinking except for one week-end day or special occasions, and really, haven’t had the desire as much as before.  I’ve been able stick to my workout plan for the most part and I’ve also been able to not get (too) upset the few times I have had to deviate from the plan for reasons beyond my control.

Overall the running is going well.  I’m still slow, but it doesn’t bother me as much anymore.  The speed will come.  One of my January goals was to be up to running 3 miles by the end of January.  Last Sunday I actually ran 4 (I still can’t believe it) so I’ve definitely met that goal!  I had never run more than 2.5 before that and to say that I felt accomplished was a major understatement.  I’m actually going to start incorporating some speed work on Saturdays with a friend (Hi Sara!).  We found the most AMAZING running trail today and can’t wait to try it out again next week.

My other January goals are going well too.  I’m halfway through two new books, have been soda free for 19 days, and have done quite a few things that I would normally have been scared to do.  I’m excited to set some February goals soon.  I’m hoping to get back on my one race a month kick, and maybe even rev it up to something past a 5K eventually.

The best part of all this?  For the first time in a long time, I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Usually, when things are going well, I tend to get scared and worried, believing that it’s only a matter of time before things start to turn sour again.  I’m gaining confidence, learning to tune out the small stuff, and battling (and moving on from) past demons that were keeping me stagnant.

And let me tell you…it’s an absolutely amazing, wonderful feeling.  I just can’t get enough.

I feel like I’m ready to battle whatever comes my way, whether it be big, or small, or nothing at all.

Upcoming Races/Runs

  • March: Shamrock 5K
  • April: Baltimore Color Run with Max (on his 5th birthday!!!)
  • May: Color Run in Queens with the Maryland and Childhood BFFs!
  • June: Charles Village 5K? Baltimore Women’s Classic 5K?
  • July: Electric Run
  • August: Trail Run at Boordy Vinyards?
  • September: Color Me Rad

And of course…the 100 mile challenge

Miles accomplished in the 100 Mile Challenge: 97.95

Miles to go in the 100 Mile Challenge: 2.05

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Challenges: The Obligatory Resolutions Post

“It’s lack of faith that makes people afraid of meeting challenges, and I believe in myself.” ~Muhammad Ali

So, I guess this could be considered my obligatory New Years Resolution post.  I could bore you with my endless downpour of yearly recycled resolutions (drink less, eat more vegetables, be a nicer wife, be a better mother, etc.) but I won’t.  These are the same hundred or so plans that I make every year and every year I feel like a failure when I still occasionally suck at being a mom, when I still occasionally yell at my husband for no apparent reason, when I still occasionally have one too many glasses of wine, and when I still occasionally choose party mix over carrots.

And somehow, when I keep making the same resolutions year after year, I wonder why nothing changes; why I’m still depressed more than I’m happy, why I’m still not at the weight or fitness level that I want to be, why my home life is not as wonderful as it could be.  Part of this, of course, is that I never put forth enough effort.  For about two weeks I do everything in my power to change what I think needs to be changed, and then when things do change, I stop putting forth any effort and slack off…and things tend to go back to sucking. Shocking, I know.

Which is why, this year, I’m making monthly resolutions as opposed to yearly ones.  I’m hoping that this way I can keep things fresh, change things up when I need to, evaluate what’s working and what’s not, tweak and add and subtract when needed.  Also, I’ll be able to see a light at the end of the tunnel.  I tend to loose focus or get discouraged or simply become complacent when I have too long to complete something.  And, of course, there is the procrastination aspect as well.  Why do today what you can do tomorrow instead?

A resolution, simply put, is the firm idea to do or not do something.  I guess, these ideas that I have for the month of January aren’t really resolutions so much as they are challenges and goals…things I am hoping to accomplish, though in the strict sense of the word I am resolute about accomplishing them.

So, long story short, each month I’ll come up with some sort of theme that encompasses the things I want to accomplish and at the end of the month evaluate how I did and make up new goals (or keep the same goals) for the next month.

January’s theme is simple: Take yourself seriously.  You are important. So many times I decide I can’t do things simply based on what other people would say if they found out I was doing them.  If I want to be a runner, I will.  If I want to learn a new language, I’ll do it.  If I want to dye my hair green, so be it.  Sometimes it’s ok to be selfish about things you want, especially if it will make you a better person in the long run.  And for those people who will judge, or be jealous, or try to bring you down, screw them.  I’ve got too much other crap going on. I don’t need any added negativity.

January’s Goals and Challenges

Body
1. Run 3-4 days a week

2. Be able to run 3 miles by the end of January

3. Complete the planking, squats, and pushup challenge (on pinterest)

4. Give up diet coke

Mind:
1. Take the opportunity to write at least twice a week

2. Read 2 new books

3. Learn a different knitting stitch than the only one that know

Soul:
1. NO cellphone, ipad, computer after 9:30 pm unless an emergency (or reading a book on the ipad, as I wind up downloading most of them).  No more mindless surfing and time wasting.

2. Do something scary each week: call someone on the phone, wear my running pants without feeling the need to hike shorts over them simply because I’m self conscious, etc.

3. Make an effort to be more world-conscious: shop more at local businesses, stop being so wasteful, etc.

4. Stop being so damn angry all the time: at my students, at my own kids, at my husband, at friends who have let me down.  I need to stop carrying this baggage every where I go.  It’s not solving any problems.

Honestly, these don’t seem so unreasonable (except maybe the diet coke :).

I know I can do it and I know there are people out there who will support me in this endeavor, and really, support me anything I decide to do.  And those are the people I really need to keep around.

Blast from the Past: 2012 New Year’s Post

Here is my New Years Resolution Post from 2012.  Oh how things change and still remain the same.

Each year I try and come up with a few (dozen) New Year’s resolutions, and every year I fail miserably when trying to follow them.  Maybe it’s because I know that 7 million other people are making the same exact ones (eat healthier, exercise more, yell at the kids less).  I don’t know.  The point is that this year I am only going to make one resolution: no regrets.  I have spent so many years regretting almost every decision I have made and I realize this is a giant waste of my time.  No matter what choice I made I always figured that it was the wrong one, that maybe the grass was greener on the other side of the fence.  Then I worry and complain and whine because yet again I didn’t get my way (when in fact, that’s exactly what I got).

I came up with this resolution a few nights ago when a friend asked me and my husband out for New Years Eve.  I had to decline because of the kids and I began to reminisce about what it was like before I had kids.  When M was first born I was too scared to ever think that way.  M was our little miracle baby after a bunch of mishaps so it felt almost blasphemous to feel tired and simply need a break.  Once O came along though, the weight of working full time and having two tiny kids really did start to take its toll and I began to remember what it felt like to sleep in, eat whenever/whatever I wanted, drive out to the beach on a moments notice, pick up and move to a different state, go out with friends when they invited…

I started to think where I would be if I hadn’t had kids.  Would I be teaching english in Chile?  Would I have joined the Peace Corps?  Would I be getting my Ph.D?  All these little thoughts begin to creep into my sub conscience and I start to feel jilted, like I would be so much happier and better off if I had waited for a few more years and really done these wonderful, un-kid friendly things.

And then O looks at me a cracks up and M comes over to give me a snuggle and I realize had I become that person, running around the world doing all these wonderful things, what I would be thinking is how wonderful I bet my life would be if I had children to share it with.

Here’s to no regrets in 2012.

How nothing and everything has changed…

“Driving home, the sky accelerates
And the clouds all form a geometric shape
And it goes fast
You think of the past
Suddenly everything has changed” ~The Flaming Lips

Since I hadn’t been on Facebook in a few weeks, I missed random things that were happening.  As I perused a little this morning, I saw my brother had posted that last Thursday marked 6 months since my father passed away.  I couldn’t believe it.  Had it really been six months already? Had close to 180 days truly passed?  Have I simply been asleep or in a coma to suddenly wake up and find out this information? How can something feel like yesterday and years ago all at once?

I can honestly say that I have been through more in this 6 months than probably the rest of my life put together.  The dizzying highs and lows, the turmoil that was self-created throughout the summer, it caused a sort of retreat into myself that I have not quite been able to come out of yet.  True, I am not the person I was in August, not quite knowing which way was up and which way was down, confused about the sheer aspect of living life on a daily basis at time.  I am far from that, but I still sometimes feel the need to protect myself from people, and even from feelings, making sure I don’t become that summertime person I was.

While I have let go of the summer; of my dad, of memories, unsure decisions, and enlightening life changes, I haven’t truly let go.  Everything about these few months still hang around me like a dark cloud that could either blow on by or begin pouring down on me at any minute. Every time I think my stride has become right again and my path is straight and narrow a turn, or a rock, or even a small pebble comes out of nowhere to cause me to stumble and fall.  It causes me to relive and remember things that I don’t necessarily want to.

While I may have used the excuse of my dad dying before as the reason I was so off kilter this summer, I need to stop. First and foremost, it’s not fair to him.  He wasn’t a great man, frankly, he wasn’t a good man either, at least not to me, but when someone leaves us we can choose how we see things, and I choose to remember the early years over the later ones.  It’s not fair to continue to blame him for my short comings.  True, his death contributed, but only in the way that it caused initial strife and turmoil within myself.  I had the choice at that moment to begin getting better or continue down a path of self-destruction and we know which one I chose. I had no way to handle my feelings, or really simply to understand them, so I created myself anew, became someone that I wasn’t, simply so I wouldn’t have to deal with the effects of the pain; simply so I wouldn’t have to deal with feeling anything at all.

So many things died this summer, most notably, important parts of myself marred by uneasy choices and decisions along the way.  I have used the fall to rebuild what was lost and broken, and find the parts that were stolen and forgotten about. Some times I feel like I am back together better than ever and at others I feel like I am still a giant pile of rubble ready to be swept into the trash, missing pieces that are so integral to my survival

I’d like to be all zen and believe that all the decisions, even the bad ones, contribute to who you are. I’d like to think that even the bad decisions have gotten me to the place I am today and I should be grateful.  But I’m not all zen. I’m not even a little zen.  I’m not an optimist, I’m a realist.  In the words of Red Hot Chili Peppers, “Life could be a little sweet, But life could be a little shitty.”  And really, in a nutshell, that’s how I feel.

But if we’re still breathing, if we’re still upright, if we can still find something to smile about, then we haven’t lost our hope.

What I know now more than ever is that sometimes life sucks.  But then again, sometimes it doesn’t.

Who’s got W-I-L-L-P-O-W-E-R? Not me…

“Willpower is trying very hard not to do something you want to do very much.” ~ John Ortberg

Things have been going well and not well all at the same time.  Is that even possible?  I’ve been pretty sad lately because a knee injury has sidelined my workout and running efforts.  I probably could have worked out this week, but it was hard to motivate myself knowing I was going to be in pain.  Running was simply out of the question, as it hurt just to walk sometimes.  I got back on the scale and was happy to see I had not gained anything, especially during my crappy eating binge of our snow days.  There were times I should have said no when I whole heartedly said yes and it was reassuring to see that the healthy band wagon didn’t get too far ahead and I am still able to jump back on.

I realize, though, especially during these snow days, that I have a terrible problem with willpower.  The fact seems to be that I don’t have any, or at the very least, I seemed to have misplaced it somewhere around the end of spring.  I’ve tried finding it, but have not had any luck.  I was doing so well last winter.  Eating healthy, working out, letting myself have random treats when I needed them, but for the most part saying no to those things that were going to harm me in the long run (I only ate a small piece of a homemade red velvet birthday cake last year, so that should tell you something).  I had gotten to the point where saying no felt good.  I wasn’t doing it to be pretentious or show that I was better than anyone else or that I could say no when others were saying yes.  I simply knew what that piece of cake/glass (bottle) of wine/cheeseburger was going to cost me in the long run and how I was going to feel if I gave in to the fleeting wanting; to that small dose of happiness I would feel during, but not after.  After, of course, I was going to feel like utter crap.

But lately, the “cravings” are getting the best of me and while I still feel like crap when I give in, I keep going back for more anyway. Part of the reason I deleted my Facebook account was that I was spending too much time on there when I should have been concentrating on other things (work, family, in-real-life friends).  I was wrapped up in this world of needing to know what someone ate for dinner last night, who went out with who, looking at photos, and spending too much time in the past.  And you know what? Every time I did it, spent way too much unconstructive time online, spent too much time on profiles that I have no reason to be on anymore, read conversations that had absolutely nothing to do with me, I felt gross.  Almost as if I had eaten an entire chocolate cake.  I’d get upset because I wasted time, jealous because I wasn’t invited somewhere, hungover on information I did not need.

I spent too weeks off Facebook and really did manage to get more done.  My basement is spotless.  My bed was made everyday. I read three magazines.  I was amazed at my willpower.  I couldn’t believe that I, a self-proclaimed Facebook junkie, had kicked the bad Facebook habit.

But you know what?  I hadn’t.  I had deleted my Facebook account, I had deleted the apps from my phone and iPad.  I had deleted the book mark from my computer.  There really wasn’t an easy way for me to get back on without having to re-log in or re-download something.  Essentially it wasn’t willpower.  Willpower would have been having access to it, but making the conscious decision not to get back on. I made it close to impossible for me to get back on.  Willpower would have been keeping my account, but forcing myself to limit my interactions and time online.  I made it so there was no choice to make.  I took the easy way out, the cowardly way out.

And really, the whole Facebook issue is reminiscent of most of the issues I have with my life.  I lack the willpower to say no or make a better decision.  Even when I know that what I am doing is the wrong choice I simply do it anyway because I can’t say no.  And really, I can, but it’s hard and sometimes I don’t know what I want.

But instead of taking the easy way out, I need to “man” up.  I need to learn to do what is best for me in the long run, not what is going to be a fleeting source of happiness.  I have to stop being so blind sided by what is right in front me and begin looking at the big picture.  I have to realize that pretty much everything is OK in moderation…but I need to make sure I am moderating (food, time online, time with family, etc.)

I’ve seen what I can accomplish when the challenge was easy.  Now let’s see what I can do when we up the ante.

Another Old Post…This time about Max.

I posted an old post about Ollie a few weeks ago, so I feel like I should do the same for Max.  Here are two posts about going through the IEP process with him.

My Dearest Maxer:

Tomorrow is my first meeting with the IEP team about you.  We’re not sure what’s going on, if anything is going on at all.  You’ve been having some trouble at school playing with friends and following directions and we just want to see if there is anything we can do to help you out!  That’s not to say you don’t have good days.  As a matter of fact, you have had two perfect days at school that last two days!

We’ve been so proud of you throughout your short, but lively, three and half years.  When you were born, it was a miracle.  Literally, a miracle.  It was the happiest day of my life and I can’t see any way that day will be topped.  I wanted to take this time now, before any meeting, before any checklist or specialist can decide who you are, to tell you all the things you are to me, and how, no matter what is said, these things will never change.

  • Our eyes are exactly the same color.  I haven’t noticed this until recently, but I love that we have this in common. You actually told me about this. Its a subdued hazel color that reminds me of a calm lake and I love that it links us together in a way that is only for us.
  • You have the most amazing vocabulary, better than most kids I know.  You use so many words I didn’t even know you knew and in the correct way
  • You are a wonderful big brother.  You go out of your way to make sure your brother is included in most things you do and are always sharing with him and asking him to play with you.
  • Your memory is remarkable.  You remember things I may have said once weeks, even months, ago (and are oh so kind to always remind me)
  • You give the best hugs.
  • You love your family; your grandparents, your uncles, and me and daddy.  You have no trouble telling us this and do so frequently.  This is a gift.  Don’t ever lose it.
  • One of my favorite times of day is the first five minutes that you wake up.  You run in, jump into bed with me and pretend to go back to sleep as you snuggle up.  Guess what.  I pretend to stay asleep, just to have a couple quiet minutes with you.
  • You love to help out and always want to be involved in everything.
  • Your stubborn streak drives me crazy, but I secretly love it.  It’s a part of me in you.
  • You are very interested in building and making things.  Anything you can do with your hands, really.  That makes me so proud considering I can’t even put together IKEA furniture.
  • You have a very active imagination.  You make up amazing stories and songs and constantly keep me laughing.

I could continue to write this list forever but I’ll stop here for now. Really, there is only one thing you need to know. No matter what happens, I love you.  As long as you know that we have nothing else to worry about.

Love,

Mom

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I realize it’s been a while since I’ve posted. Part of me just wasn’t ready to post until I had a final answer about Max. The other part of me has been crazy busy with so many things going on that I can’t even keep my head straight most of the time.

About a month ago we had Max’s testing date. I got the results in the mail a few days ago and today I met with that evaluation team to talk about the results. He received hearing and vision tests, was observed at school by a child psychologist to evaluate social behavior, and was given language, speech and cognitive tests as well.

One of the biggest things we found out was that Max has profound hearing loss in his right ear and borderline hearing loss in his left ear. This hearing loss has most likely been there for a while, probably more than a few months and it just shocks me that we never even noticed anything about it. Both the audiologist and the pediatrician believe it’s due to fluid buildup behind the eardrum when he had an ear infection almost a year ago! We went back today and saw that the hearing loss is getting worse.  We’re hoping that with this next round of medication he will be able to regain all of his hearing. If not we’ll have to visit the ENT to find out if surgery is needed.

As for the other tests, long story short…we have a well adjusted, highly articulate and well mannered, very bright, slightly fine motor delayed three year old who is well socialized for his age in all areas.  I don’t know if you know what it’s like to have a 50 pound bolder lifted off your chest, but that’s what this news felt like.  As first I was so relieved that I cried.  Then I became so angry I cried.  For two years we have been going through this nightmare where his teachers have been saying that something is wrong, or he might be on the spectrum and in reality, nothing is wrong. I wasted two years of my life trying to change my child and expecting him to adapt to what certain people think is “normal” instead of finding the right environment for him…the one that will let him be his quirky, lovable self.

Throughout this whole process I’ve learned a lot about Max, things I never knew.  Amazing, wonderful, delightful things.  But more importantly I’ve learned a lot about myself and my role as a mother and an advocate for my children. I’ve learned better to stand up for myself, my thoughts, and my opinions, and to stand up for theirs because they can’t do it themselves yet…that is, until I teach them to.