Illness

  I don't know how to start this entry.
  I'm struggling for words because I don't want to sound negative or like a big whiner.

  I also don't want to sound like I'm laying blame and not taking responsibility for myself and my actions.

  I'm amazed at how an illness and an injury can affect your well being on a day to day basis. Some days I feel as though weight loss and fitness is a mountain I'll never see the other side of. Fitness is for other people, who aren't experiencing the extreme setbacks of hypothyroidism and hormonal imbalances. 
  I am a girl who has literally sobbed as I stepped onto the treadmill because I was so exhausted but know there's no other road to fitness. A girl who has wondered "am I going to faint on this trail and Grace will run into traffic, leash trailing behind, and get hit by a car?"
  Some days a workout in the morning leaves me so beat that it's tough to get through the day without dragging myself around.
  
  There are those weeks that happen where I'm doing great. I eat well and go for a brisk walk or run several days per week. Then there are those weeks where I feel exhausted, beaten down and as though none of it is paying off at all.
  I'm so tired of the cycle! Especially when everywhere I look around me, people are slimming down and feeling great. "Oh I look like I've lost weight? Thanks for noticing! I just have been eating salads and running a few miles a day and the weight has been dripping off! I feel amazing!"
Good for you. Now give me those size 8 yoga pants so I can ram them down your throat. Must be nice to have energy to spare and be PHYSICALLY ABLE to work out regularly.
  It used to be that working out was an inconvenience for me. Not any more. Now it's what I desire and love, but is a struggle, every day. Daily questions consist of, Will this work out wear me down? Will it reverse the progress I've made at the chiropractor and slip something out of place?

  Not giving up, no. But tired of the cycle. I want to have a better thyroid NOW. I want to be fit NOW. I want my back fixed NOW.

  But that's not how life works, is it? Nope. You just plow on through, doing the best you can. One step at a time.
 
 

Diary Entry of a Hopeless Halloween Nightmare

  Upon waking, I started the day with the annoying nagging understanding that I only slept approximately five and half hours last night. Probably closer to 4, since I'm not counting the tossing and turning and the the burning lungs and throat and the getting of the humidifier from out of the downstairs bathroom tub, which I reassembled in record time, in order to be time efficient and get as much sleep as possible. Once the humidity kicked in, I was able to fall asleep. It was a miracle.
   I must blame my retiring late to my addiction to a certain television show about bikers and the drama that unfolds as they live their lives outside of what's right and good, only to experience far more pain and suffering than if they would just become noble and good citizens and earn fortune in the honest and legal way. But that would make for a boring show, I suppose, so that's not the way it goes.
  I like my time alone at night. I love -me- time. I am in a consistent battle with myself regarding early or late rising. My days are consumed by children and dogs, dishes and laundry, business building and exercise, sweat and lack of make up and showers. I am consistently battling my body hair to cease and desist, and it is a losing battle.

 In fact, today has felt like one big losing battle. No matter how many times I wash the dishes, more appear. There will always be mountains of laundry, because even when I plan to fold one load per day, and I actually believe it could happen because I'm a hopeless optimist I suppose, it doesn't happen. Not when there are calls to be made, dishes to be done by hand, dogs and kids around my feet, legs and hips and their needs are voiced as each minute passes. I would love to fold laundry, if only I could get to it.
  My joy is found in pole. Ah yes, pole will be good! my thoughts agree. However, once I start my lesson I realize that soon my son will be awake,  require lunch, and I also told my children I would attend the Halloween parade at school. But I don't know what time it is, so I call the school to find out.

  As I drive to the school, which is just down our street, I dread the crowd of people, as I'm currently in slob state with oily hair, aged sweat, partially-removed nail polish, and feeling incredibly non-congenial. But then, as I approach, I see it. And my jaw drops.
  Vast masses of cars, lines of them, not just in the school parking lot, but lining the street. I am instantly angered by the emotion that comes upon perfectionists when they believe they are witnessing other parents more perfect than them. Not only is it cold and rainy out, but it appears as though nearly half the metro has turned out for a small elementary school Halloween costume parade. I don't understand. And I feel tears in my eyes as my thoughts deepen into overdrive. Why is this so important to so many people? Why are there so many school events that they have started to seem innumerable to me and if I were to participate in all of them, I might as well work full time as a volunteer at the school?
  I have failed. Once again. On top of the many, many things I suck at. This is one of those days. There is no way I'm getting out of my car through two blocks of cold rain, and dash into the fray of thousands of excited parents and children with a cold callous look on my face and the wretchedness that is this day. After all, I justify to myself, when they come home we'll carve pumpkins and then go trick or treating. They have to forgive me for not coming to this insane craziness that is the Suburban Parents Organization of Overachievers. They just have to.

 So that is that. I missed the stupid, ridiculous, exalted and worshiped Halloween parade. And I'm here, in my house, dry but not warm, and hoping and wishing that my children will forgive me for being as imperfect as I am.

 So here I sit. Oily and out of control. The hopelessness I feel over this entire charade called a day is ghastly. 

 I am in desperate need of some Jesus, a bible, and a nap. And lots, and lots of crying.

Fit but Frustrated in Minnesota

  The scale is evil.

  Not because I haven't been losing weight, no. But because I FEEL so much slimmer and better and even my husband has commented on how skinny I feel to him, and yet the scale isn't budging. Hasn't for two weeks. According to the scale, I've lost a total of TWO POUNDS IN A MONTH. Yet I feel like I've lost ten. It makes no sense.

  I hate when people say "Don't go by the scale!" because really, isn't that what a scale is for? I'm -not- supposed to weigh what I weigh right now, trust me. Really. I'm not a body builder, I'm overweight.

  When is this stubborn bugger going to go down a bit further? I've been running 45 minutes a day, 4-5 days per week, and just incorporated lunges and squats, per my chiro's permission.
   But the scale. Isn't. Moving. It's gotta move sometime, doesn't it? SOME TIME?! Because I cannot be doomed to weigh what I weigh right now, forever.

  I'm being so good! I'm watching what I eat, I drink pretty much nothing but water, I say no to sugar most of the time, and I'm EVEN GOING TO BED EARLY! Okay wow, I'm actually pretty dang proud of myself. I've accomplished a lot. Not to mention my increased cardio endurance.  I get my run out of the way first thing in the morning before the kiddos are even up, so that I don't stress it throughout the day, and I run my keister off. At least I hope. Or up, which is what the lunges and squats are for.

 I suppose I could just go off a darn measuring tape for a while, since the scale is such a bummer and not meeting my expectations. Anybody else had weird scale experiences for WEEKS at a time, all the while certain they were losing weight? What the crap, man.

Signed,

Fit but Frustrated in Minnesota

  

Let's Be Honest

  The term is self-sabotage.

  I've been listening to a book that discusses this topic at some points, and while I used to think that this term is a silly way to psychoanalyze, I can hardly believe that as the author explained what it is, I had a complete "ah-ha" moment and realized that self-sabotaging is probably most of the reason I haven't achieved half of what I want at this point in myself. Although, I am fairly ambitious so maybe I want to achieve more than the average bear. 

  Thomas Edison stated, "If we all did what we are capable of, we would astound ourselves." 

Think about it. How many times have we intended to do something, but didn't actually do it because we were lazy, or just plain afraid? Those voices in our head say either "Meh, that's too much work anyway," or, "Do you really believe you can actually DO that? Hmmm..." or, "You'll fail. Then what? You'll look stupid."

Well gosh I mean, if that's how Thomas Edison lived his life, would we have the light bulb today? If that's how Henry Ford thought, would we have automobiles to drive? What about the Wright brothers? What about Walt Disney? What about Marshall Fields?

  I can say that I have self-sabotaged myself throughout life, either due to lack of clear goals and direction, or as a result of not believing in myself. I have believed, for a very long time, and at times without realizing it, that I am not good enough. Yep. I'm not pretty enough, not attractive enough, and I have beaten myself down into the dirt with the measuring stick of comparison. Why can't I just be prettier, thinner, more skilled at this or that, more successful, more accomplished, and the list goes on. Therefore, due to my lack of belief in these areas, I STAY in those beliefs. Don't get me wrong, I'm improving day by day. But it is a daily battle.

  The fact is I can be whatever I want to be. I can do whatever I want to do. That sounds vast, but for the sake of summation, I'll just put it that way. It's true. 

  I overeat due to the desire to escape and numb pain, like a druggie would inject heroin. Okay, there's nothing wrong with loving to eat yummy food! BUT, there's a point where you have to say okay, that sixth donut is enough. I've had enough cake. I've had enough crackers. I'm not just enjoying a small treat at this point, I'm damaging my life. I don't want to do that anymore! While I don't believe there's a place we "arrive" to overcome our issues, I do believe we can triumph greatly over them and continue to heal and move forward.

  Something else I'm learning is to actually envision myself in the place I want to be. Do I want to earn a trip through my business? I picture myself on the beaches of Bali. Do I want to lose 50 pounds? I picture myself rocking pole. When we desire something so badly, and we visualize ourselves doing it, it is far more likely to be obtained.

  Don't ever stop believing in yourself. The only times anyone thinks your dreams are silly or ridiculous is because they are afraid to dream, themselves.

  From this day forward, I will be zoning in on self-sabotaging, every day. When I crave sugar, I'll remind myself that poisoning my body isn't getting me where I want to be. When I don't want to get on the treadmill, I'll remind myself that's the most important time to do it.

  

  Stop sabotaging yourself! 

  You are capable of SO MUCH that you can astound yourself.

  

  

   

  

So It Begins

  I am pleased as punch to share that I've lost approximately three pounds in my first week of low carb eating.

 What's really awesome about this is that, ahem, I lost it even though I did not perfectly behave myself. I was merely my active, dog-walking (often treadmill as well) self, and just used some self discipline. Even though the first two days I felt like I was going to go crazy due to sugar withdrawals.

 What's even MORE awesome is that I was FINALLY able to cross pounds off of my chart (which I spent over an hour making, a few weeks ago, thank you very much). There is no feeling like that. It is incredibly motivating. The act of taking a fat black Sharpie and scrawling large black Xs across the pounds that are between myself and being fit and able to pole again (weight loss will help my back heal much faster) is more liberating and rewarding than treating myself to a sundae when I'm in a happy mood.

 I've also reached a milestone in building my business. Yeah, I want to talk about this for a minute. Probably more than a minute.
 I'm finally, after being tough at it for a little over a month, starting to get paid through building my business.
 I will say right here and now that building a business isn't easy. Nothing worth it ever is. But there is nothing more rewarding than watching your income go up and up, even in baby steps, as a result of your own ass-busting. No one held your hand and -made- you accomplish that.  No one baby-sat you or did the work for you. YOU did that. You drove yourself. Around neighborhoods, to friends and family's homes, and through every no, every door shut in your face, every hardship or scoff that you encountered.
  And THAT, is a darn good feeling. To be my own boss, not have anyone over my shoulder telling me the "right" or "wrong" way to do what I'm doing, exchanging ideas with my best friend (who happens to be my husband), to look forward to the day when he won't need to go to his job every day, we can work together, take trips whenever we like, and not worry about how to cover our bills each month.

  I've started listening to Jillian Michaels' book, Unlimited. In it, she talks about how we have been programmed, whether it be by family, society, friends, or anyone else, to settle in this life. To work at jobs we hate, settle for less than we truly want, because that's just how life is. When we dare to desire or dream, we are directly or subversively instructed to take it down several notches, play it safe, and squelch what we really want because, after all, it's arrogant and unrealistic to dream. The audacity of it! Or, we are mocked by others who are afraid to take risks themselves and the very thought of risking anything makes them uncomfortable. They never took risks and dared to dream, therefore your dreams must be slammed down, too. John Eldredge also addresses this issue in his book, Desire.
  I want to encourage you. If you have dreams, they CAN be realized. If you want to do something, do it! Only you are the one standing in your own way.

  I was once told that a business is built mostly on personal growth. It's true! If not, you'll have a horribly hard time getting anywhere if you don't want to grow as a person.

 Happy business-building, and happy low-carbing it!

~Me.

Today is the Day!

  The hubby and I begin our low-carb eating habits today.

  I researched eating low glycemic/low carb, and they're close to the same thing. While I've heard plenty of opinions on low carb (don't cut out any food groups, low carb is bad for you, etc), the fact is that our bodies simply do not need simple carbs (see what I did there?). Complex carbs we do need, but there just isn't much nutrition, if any, that comes from refined sugars and flours.

  Not only that, but I eat WAY too much bread. When I was eating low carb before, I couldn't believe how much better, lighter, and energetic I felt! It just seems like a brilliant way to reduce calories and excess sugar.

  One of the issues some also have with low carb is that fiber becomes an issue, as one isn't consuming whole grains as often. That can easily be remedied with putting more vegetables and fruit into one's diet!

  Don't eat "garbage health food" from boxes that is high in salt and fat with a severely diminished nutrition content! For me, it's an obvious answer.

 In addition, and this is what really sealed it for me, my chiropractor (who is pretty educated in the area of nutrition) advocates low carb eating! In fact, I give him the credit for encouraging me to have at it again, and also to invite my husband to join me! He pointed out how it's refined sugars that make us fat, not necessarily foods with fat in them. So thanks, Dr. James Jessen of Specific Family Chiropractic (if you schedule with him, be sure to let him know that I referred you so that I can earn a free massage!) :)

 I've also started meal planning! I'll be planning out our meals each week, cooking the ingredients needed, and freezing or refrigerating foods so that they are quick and easy to prepare. Because let's face it, it's unrealistic when you're living life to expect that you'll be able to cook a full blown, healthy gourmet dinner each night. Yes, I actually used to believe that this was possible when I was first married. And, oh yes, I learned that it's not, after losing my mind. A few times.

  Thanks for reading, and happy low carbing it!

Confessions of a Food Addict

  As I mentioned previously, I have a seriously unhealthy and emotionally draining relationship with food. It's a destructive relationship. A relationship that I have been trying to get out of for years now. 

  However, how does one get out of a relationship with something that they need to continue living? So tricksy! .

  I hear other folks who have struggled with food addiction talk as though they are BAM! healed or, BAM! "delivered" from it. "I don't even see food the same way anymore!" as though they are forever cured just like that, through some magic form of prayer, epiphanies, and spirituality. 

  Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm not buying it.

  Isn't it true that, with any addiction, we are fighting it until the day we die? An ex-alcoholic will always be a recovering alcoholic. An ex-druggie will always be a recovering drug addict. 

  I just listened the other day to Jillian Michaels discuss how she will forever be a recovering food addict until the day she dies. I thought "Amen! Thanks, Jillian! There is no magic method. Way to be honest." 

  There's also the fact that I am an ex-smoker. I've been quit over a year, and there are STILL days when I crave a puff! I am an addict, of some form or another. My addiction has manifested itself through cigarettes, and now mainly through food. 

  For those of you without addictions, nope, you don't know what you're talking about until you've gone through it. So just shush.     Ah, ah... shhh.  Trust me. You don't have a clue.

  I've been in a very tiring process as I strengthen my back. It's so difficult. Like, ridiculously. I have to do tedious exercises on the floor, and hate doesn't begin to describe how I feel about floor work. The -really- stressful and tough part is, my chiropractor won't allow me to do any strengthening exercises other than the ones he's prescribed for my back. Which I didn't listen to previously, which would explain why months later I'm STILL going through this process. I need to be happy though, that he told me I'm becoming more difficult to adjust, therefore my exercises are paying off! Yay!

  I can do nothing but the treadmill. So I get really crazy and put it at an incline. Woo. Hoo. Now we're talkin'.    

  Not really.

  Pole is my workout of choice, my passion, my heart's desire... and it is forbidden for the time being. My chiro actually showed frustration when I told him about the pole kicks I was working on. "You're kicking my work right out of place. You're not going to improve if you keep doing this." GAH! FINE! 

  Now, I've been doing cardio solidly 4-5 days per week for the last two weeks, and guess what?! 

  I GAINED A POUND!

  Just as I was ready to rip my hair out, I powowed with my chiro about it, to which he pointed out cutting out simple carbs as a simple way to get the weight down.

  Well, shoot. He had something there. So I talked to my husband and we'll both be eating low glycemic and cutting simple carbs out. I'm actually thrilled at the prospect of my husband joining me on this journey. We'll be setting a date and a goal plan. I'm really looking forward to it.

  When I was eating low glycemic/low carb before, I dripped off seven pounds like nothing. Why I didn't stick with it, I couldn't tell you. Lack of self control? Distractions? Not a strong enough "why?"

  The bottom line is, though, that this is a journey and no one can take it for you. There is no magic pill, magic anything, that can get you into shape and living the healthy life you want. You must choose. You must get off your ass. You must take the steps necessary. You must choose between a burger and a salad. I know! Isn't it hard? But worth it, right? So worth it. 

  I have 57 pounds to lose by my birthday. It's completely doable. Let the journey begin.

  

  

   

 

   

Getting Real

Welcome to my blog.

Seriously. Welcome.

It's taken me a while to get this started. I've had several folks recommend I do a blog but I just never got around to it. When you're raising three young children and three dogs (two of which are young, also), building a business, running a household, plus trying to scrape together time to spend with your husband, it's not like you think to yourself "Hmmm... I think I should do a blog! Yeah! That's the absolute best idea! What have I been waiting for?"

But honestly, writing is a great outlet for me. This shall be my cheap creative outlet. I'm all about cheap these days. 

When I created my blog account, I was really contemplating what exactly to write about. Like, what is the theme of this? What is the point of this? Well, I'm compelled to share my journey with fitness and health. You have no idea (okay, maybe you do) the rantings I could do on a daily basis regarding this journey. Holy smoke. From the women who weigh 120 and talk about how My Fitness Pal is like a "fun little game" and then fold themselves into thirds when they sit down, to the people who think less of you for having emotional eating issues, to the size of my jeans making me bawl in a dressing room, the rantings, emotions, and teeth gritting soar high.

I've always, as I often read it titled in magazine articles and books, "struggled with my weight." Starting when I was a teenager and in that awkward phase we all go through... even though, I was actually a GODDESS.  Do you ever look at photos from back then, and think "I was so screwed up! How the hell did I ever think I was fat?" Thank you, Seventeen, Teen, Glamour, and, well, pretty much any fashion/style/beauty magazine out there. I was the QUEEN of comparison. It became an obsession, and I didn't measure up. I never did, and was never going to. It's my goal, now, to lavish my own daughter with compliments on how gorgeous, precious, and amazing she is. When I talk about weight, I try my darndest to use words like health and fitness instead of "weight loss", or "fat."

I love fitness. I love to work out. Most of the time. If it's an activity I like, I'll do it. I love dancing, running, kayaking, canoeing and horse back riding. Fitness is not where my struggle lies with weight loss. Oh, no. 

I love to eat yummy food. And I'm an emotional eater. Happy day, have a sundae. Bad day, have a bag of chips. Or really, any time of day. Anywhere. Chips are amazing. We can't keep them in the house. Because I will eat them. Most of them. And most of the time, all of them. Which my husband does not appreciate. They're delicious, and satisfyingly crunchy. Yum, yum, yum.

However, I just saw a picture on Pinterest the other day of a morbidly obese woman digging into a half gallon of ice cream, next to a picture of an in-shape woman and it was captioned "Eat delicious, or look delicious." Puts things in perspective. Granted, the soul of my motivation is to be healthy, move around like a feather, and be quicker and competitive, and stronger, not die of health problems, and really just kick some serious keister.

And I'm just not going to be able to do that if I'm filling my face with tasty sugaryness several times per week.

Which brings me to the present. After a week of, what I thought was cutting back enough on calories, and working out hard and consistently, I gleefully rose from my bedchamber in the dim light of morning, and stepped onto the scale. I lost three tenths of a pound. Seriously?! REALLY?! 

Then, I got brutally honest with myself. "Well... I have been reading about the effects of alcohol on weight loss... and I drank this week... More than one... Okay, okay FINE! No more alcohol." Learning lessons.

 

In light of the scale not budging, however, I have the benefits of all the cardio from the past week. Five days of it. Go me! Never a failure. Never!

So here you shall read of my triumphs and failures, my rantings and ravings, and you may get to know me better than you wanted to!

I look forward to it.

~Me.