It’s my birthday.
(Well technically it’s tomorrow)
When I opened my laptop to start this post I had no idea what I wanted to say. I stared blankly at the white screen for a while, stumped. If you know me (you do know me right?) being stumped for words doesn’t happen very often to me. I thought I would sit down and the words would fly off my fingers. Something funny. Something poignant. Something in the home run department (you know those posts that just sail out of the ball park…)
I just sort of sat there for a moment a little frustrated. I needed something. Anything. I looked up and took in my environment. Nothing. I looked down at my laptop. Nothing. I closed my eyes and looked inside. Nothing. Then….
I looked back.
Something.
I looked back to my birthday post last year: “A Birthday Wish” and I sat quietly reading the post slowly. My eyes tearing up remembering how I felt writing that the girl in the first picture:
 Dec 2009 had no idea what was about to hit her.
Funny thing.
The girl waiting for her on her 41st birthday:
 Dec 2010 Also had no idea.
She has no idea that in a few short months something magical is about to happen. No idea that the universe is about to take her world and turn it upside down and inside out. She thinks her feet are firmly planted where she stands and when the rug is pulled out from under her she’s going to really understand what it means to go after what you deserve.
She has no idea that a year from now she will be where she never expected.
Luckily…
           
We’ll be waiting.
 http://thrushadows.blogspot.com It’s no secret that I am a recovering Bulimic.
Today I am not ashamed to tell people that bulimia is a part of my life. When I hid it from the world I was ashamed. Ashamed that my relationship with food came down to two things: Binge and Purge. From the time I woke up until I laid my head down at the end of the day I was in a constant state of awareness of the process of food entering my body and how quickly I would force it to leave.
Everything was a game of hide and seek.
Hiding in my car consuming large quantities of food until I was so uncomfortable and hated myself, then seeking out a way to find relief. Hiding in a bathroom stall waiting until I was sure I was the only one in there and then seeking more food when I was sure everything was gone. Hiding the fact that this was how I felt in control and then seeking the chaos that started the vicious cycle over (and over) again.
I don’t think I will ever allow myself to lose this label. Much in the same way I will always be a recovering meth head or someone on a never-ending life changing journey. I am not ashamed of being in recovery even if I go the next 20 years without purging. I still carry the demons of an unhealthy (physically and emotionally dangerous) behavior deep in my being.
I am still susceptible to those demons when they whisper in my ear.
The difference between being a recovering meth head and a recovering bulimic is that unless I am purposefully around drug addicts the likelihood of a relapse is almost non-existent. I don’t have the urge to lock myself in the bathroom and draw up a line. I don’t see commercials of people using meth that causes my heart to beat faster or sweat to sheen on my forehead. I would never for a second put myself in an environment that would put me at a risk for using again because I know that I will forever be in recovery even if I don’t attend meetings, have a sponsor or carry a little round chip in my pocket telling me I’ve been clean now for 21+ years.
I am still susceptible to those demons when they whisper in my ear.
I feel like I can’t really ever let my guard down when it comes to being in recovery from bulimia. I am so emotionally caught up with the food that I eat it’s hard not being constantly vigilant about where my mind is when I’m eating (either on “track” or off “track”). I can’t just remove myself from a situation for fear that a relapse may occur. I can’t leave the room because someone pulls out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Food is everywhere. Emotions are with me everyday. While the urge to binge is far more under control today than ever before it can sometimes tap me on the shoulder as a simple reminder that those urges are only an emotional break down away if I’m not careful. Emotional break downs have become sort of common place the last few weeks of my life. Life is not as I had planned it out to be (not that my life has actually followed any plan I set forth), but this is different.
I am still susceptible to those demons when they whisper in my ear.
I’ve never in my life been as scared as I was when Meegan was hit by a truck and I was 4000 miles away listening to everything happen over the phone. I’ve never felt more of a sense of urgency to leave everything behind and pack what I could into two bags and spend twenty-three hours flying to all four corners of the United States to finally land in Halifax and realize I would not be returning to what I used to call “home”. I’ve never felt more lost than I did stepping out my new front door and not even knowing where the closest food store was. I feel more than my share of guilt over not being able to work while the government of my new country and the government of my old country decide whether or not I can stay. I feel an immense amount of panic as what little money I came with dwindles down and I become more dependent financially on someone else (which in my entire adult life I’ve never experienced)…
Fear + Urgency + Lost + Guilt + Panic
=
Feeling out of control.
You see where this is leading right? I can’t just remove myself from this like I could if I accidentally found myself in a room full of drug addicts. My mind wanders as I stroll the aisles at my local food store. I contemplate filling my body with a dozen donuts from the bakery and washing it down with a two-liter of diet coke. I think about walking to the Burger King I can practically see from my apartment and ordering the largest meal I can buy and since I can’t hide in my car (which is still in the States), sitting in the farthest corner alone as I feel the next step to finding control come over me like a warm blanket on a cold night…
In this moment
I refuse
to give in.
Time has a way of changing things. The fear is subsiding. The feeling of urgency is now replaced with moments of calm. I am no longer lost as I learn to love walking out the door of my new home, and walking the streets of my new city (and thank goodness for google maps on my iPhone in case I get turned around). The guilt and panic are still a big part of my everyday emotions but I am learning to not only talk about them but to listen to (and trust) Meegan that this is the way it is because this is the way the Universe has planned it.
I am still susceptible to those demons when they whisper in my ear.
Today I am NOT bulimic.
Today I am a RECOVERING bulimic.
This is my life.
(and I am thankful)
- I wanted to write about how I’m missing the comforts of my home in Tacoma. How knowing where everything is brings about a lot of safety on this journey. I knew where my gym was. I knew where my work was. I knew where I would run when I wanted to strap on my shoes and hit the pavement. I knew where all the “healthier” food options were if I was out for a long day. I knew everything about my city inside and out.
- Basically I wanted this to be a pity party for me.
Instead I’m going to leave you with the following blog post by my new trainer Chris over at Absolute Wellness.
(and get off my pity pot).
I had absolutely no intention of writing anything until the weekend, and even then I had only been toying with the idea of writing a proper introductory blog as I kind of got right into the heavy stuff on my first post. You know, a blog to let potential readers get to know a little bit about me and what the purpose of these ramblings might be. Then I landed upon two YouTube videos which got me thinkin’… FUCK I HATE WHINERS! (sorry Mom)
Okay, there! The elephant’s out of the room. Any of my clients who read my first, and now this blog have just been waiting for me to drop an F-bomb – it’s a bit of a thing with me.
This first video was a preview for a book by Dr. Lee Lipsenthal entitled “Enjoy Every Sandwich”. Dr. Lipsenthal was diagnosed with esophageal cancer in July 2009 and after a subsequent recurrence accepted his diagnosis, illness, and treatment. He discovered that rather than fear, the realization of his own mortality actually brought out a calm reflection, one which enabled him to provide insight, aptly portrayed in the title of his book, he advises us to “Find the joy in the simplicity of life”. I know… a bit heavy!
The second video was much lighter – a clip of Michael J. Fox playing Johnny B. Goode (yup, a re-enactment of Back To The Future, complete with red guitar) at his recent charity benefit held last Saturday (November 12th).
So… just how the heck did these two videos elicit that emphatic statement noted above?
Here’s two men, whose lives are dramatically affected by medical conditions. How easy would it be for either of these men to pack it in, to simply say, “why bother, I’m dying”, or “I don’t think I can, I kinda got the shakes today”? “Hmmm,I just don’t feel up to it today”? No one would think twice. Yet they’re not. They’re at peace, they’re thoughtful, they’re raising our awareness, they’re helping, and they’re LIVING. Even in death and sickness these two men are living – excuse free!!.
How many of us… how many people do we know are so consumed with excuses, rationalizations and justifications for their own suckiness that they can’t get out of their own damn way? We search for any reason possible to justify our complacency, “I’m tired”, “I’m just really busy”, “You have no idea how difficult it is”, “Something just came up”, “But they’re not doing it” (referring to someone else’s lack of action).
STOP IT ALREADY… seriously!
Take a look around you. For the most part we’re pretty damn fortunate (if you disagree, listen to the news). Most of us have our health (and a choice of whether we take care of it or not). We have a roof over our head, food to put on our table (and a choice of what to buy), and a cozy bed to climb in to at night. The basics, right? Choices, right?
Either we choose to get up off our asses and pursue our dreams and goals, or sit their drowning in our sea of excuses. You pick!
“Excuses are the nails used to build a house of failure.”
~Don Wilder and Bill Rechin
Suggestions
1/ W.I.N. – What’s Important NOW! De-clutter your life and focus on the things that will really make a positive impact in your life RIGHT NOW!
2/ Lose the “buts” and “can’ts”. Any explanation that begins with “But…” is simply an excuse, and “I can’t” just means that you don’t want to badly enough. Lose them! Remove these words from your vocabulary. Either you want to or you don’t!
ONE LIFE! ONE CHANCE! NO EXCUSES!
(check this video out if you’re still in doubt)
And maybe, just maybe embedded somewhere in this blog post is the intro I had thought about writing. Maybe this explains that amidst my profanity and no bullshit approach there’s a simple desire to see people make a change in their lives and in turn, for them to help others.
 “Just one more bite”
“There’s hardly any food on your plate”
“But this is your favorite”
Yes folks, it’s that time of year again: The time of year where turning away food becomes almost more of a chore and so frustrating that you begin to wonder if you shouldn’t just “blow” whatever movement forward you’ve worked so hard for and eat to your heart’s content. I mean seriously how can you spend the whole day facing family members that could give a rat’s ass about the progress you’ve been making, fighting their incessant pushing of the food, the constant barrage of comments and excuses?…
 “It’s only one day a year”
“One piece of pie won’t hurt you”
“You don’t need to lose any (m0re) weight”
How can you resist? Grandma looking so fucking sweet and she’s been up since September preparing the perfect pie, the perfect bowl of mashed potatoes, the perfect golden delicious turkey. How can you fight the temptation when your brother (insert name here) can eat and eat and eat and not gain one friggin pound? How can you tell your mother that under no uncertain circumstances is she to tell you (for the gazillionth time) that there isn’t enough food on your plate or that Aunt Betty-Sue will be disappointed if you don’t try her (insert random vegetable) casserole…
 “You can always work out tomorrow”
“It’s Thanksgiving Dear, relax”
I’m one of the lucky one’s this year. I relocated just before the Thanksgiving gluttony marathon festivities take place. Canadian Thanksgiving was in October and while Meegan and I will be celebrating an American Thanksgiving it will be nowhere near the onslaught of food nor the pressure to eat until I have to unbutton my pants and/or force pie into my mouth when all I want to do is fall into a food induced coma.
Some of my friends won’t be so lucky.
A few days ago I got a text from a friend who after making some tremendous steps toward getting the life she deserves to live was starting to panic because Thanksgiving was creeping up and in her own words being around her family “is kind of a toxic environment for a lifestyle change“…
Sound familiar?
Of course it does. Rarely do we start this journey of weight loss with a band of family members behind us slapping us on the back. Giving us the encouragement we need to take the necessary steps to move forward. It’s more common that our family members are trying to figure out subtle ways of sabotaging what progression we’ve made, even if it’s out of love. Whether it’s out of frustration at their own inability to make the life changes or they just don’t understand why you can’t just eat what you want they may not realize how hard this time of year is for those of us that can’t just pile up the food any longer.
 The question is how do we prepare ourselves for this inevitable onslaught?
They may pester us to eat more, to try another bite, to put that casserole on our plate but the truth is we aren’t swimming upstream from their food pushing. We’re swimming upstream from our own inner struggle. Who cares if they want us to eat more food? Who cares if they want us to try a slice of the home made pie Gramma made when she got up at three in the morning to begin cooking? Who cares how much gravy is covering the turkey, the mashed potatoes, the stuffing, the green beans and the delicious sweet potatoes with the tiny melted marshmellows? We worry about them pushing the food, when in fact we should be focused on our (in)ability to say no. We can’t point fingers at those people standing around offering us mounds of food, blaming them for another day of over eating to the point of making ourselves uncomfortable and for some of us totally out of control and opening the door to binge eating.
“No thank you“
“I’ve had enough“
“I’m going to pass“
 Confession: I have a hard time saying no. When I am alone and making the choices I feel move me in the right direction I am on top of this shit 95% of the time. Get me around people who are not like-minded and that percentage goes pretty much in the toilet. I whisper to myself “I’ll work out longer tomorrow” as I pop more chips in my mouth. “I’ll go for a run later” as I eat another bite of cake (with ice cream – after I”m full). “It’s only one day” as I continue to talk myself into eating more food. What I should be practicing is my ability to say no. I should be practicing my ability to plan, prepare and execute when in a situation that might lead to over eating, choosing lesser nutritional foods over more nutritional and even just mindless snacking because everyone else is doing it. I still panic (though not nearly as much) when I think food is going to run out. I find myself eating foods that make me feel less than stellar because I didn’t plan well enough and what is being offered to me is what I have to work with…
This is the time of year when all of our efforts are truly tested. When our ability to say no is the most important. When our love for ourselves and our desire to get that life we ALL deserve must shine brighter than the tabletop full of food and the gentle nudge from Aunt Gloria to just for the love of all that is pure to try her pea and cashew casserole she found in the latest Good Housekeeping magazine…
Plan. Prepare. Execute.
(how will you?)
Have a wonderful “No Thank You” Thanksgiving.
* Here is a good start to your Plan, Prepare and Execute for Thanksgiving. “11 Nice Ways to Say No to Food Pushers” from SparkPeople
S ome things never change.
The other day I was at Wal-Mart doing some shopping. I know I know, I shouldn’t give into the big conglomerate companies but being in a new country, unfamiliar with my surroundings still and in need of a some boots for my newly acquired nephew-in-law (we got him Transformer snow boots), I went where it was familiar (and cheap – remember I’m not working at the moment).
Every where I go I am constantly looking for ideas for future blog posts. Whether it’s a advertisement I see or a conversation I over hear, my mind is always alert to when something around me affects my Life Changing Journey. It doesn’t matter if it’s something that makes me feel strong about the movement forward or if it’s something that really pisses me off: if it affects me and my choices I can guarantee it affects your choices as well.
As I was walking towards the check out stand (after being bombarded with all the holiday chocolate available for my consumption) I hear a small child crying. I mean really crying. Like he might be in pain kind of crying. I turn towards the commotion to make sure everything is okay and what I see/hear, while it may not seem outrageous, has really laid heavy on my mind this week.
An obese mom.
A crying child in a cart.
A diet soda.
His arms were stretched out toward her, not because he needed a hug or a kiss or a playful tussle of the hair. He wanted that damn diet soda. As they came closer to me I could hear the mother repeat over and over again “No, you can’t have any diet soda”. The more she said it the more he cried. The louder he cried the more angrier she became….
Okay I’m going to rant here for a bit so if you’re so inclined to think that she was somehow in the right I suggest you stop reading here and go about your business because right now I’m fucking pissed.
Dear Wal-Mart mother. I know you’ll probably never read this. I could tell by the items in your cart you have no intention of making healthy choices for yourself right now. Maybe later when your body hurts from the extra weight it’s had to carry around you’ll make better choices. Maybe when your doctor tells you that you show the first signs of heart disease you’ll make better choices. You’re an adult you have every right to make whatever choices you want when putting food in your mouth. However the fact that your small toddler could discern that what you were drinking was a diet soda and he was crying like he was in pain makes me want to seriously ram my cart into the back of your legs.
Don’t yell at him.
It’s your fault he’s crying. It’s your fault he’s addicted to the chemically filled sweet liquid that while you think is healthier because it’s calorie free, is already doing damage to his body. You don’t want him to cry because you have a diet soda and he doesn’t? PUT THE FUCKING SODA DOWN! I used to be obese so I know what it’s like to be addicted to this shit. I know what it’s like to be under the control of the food industry. I know what it’s like to have $5.00 in my pocket and opt for the easy way out and head to the closest McDonald’s and order it super size. I know what it’s like to shop in places like Wal-Mart where food is cheap and comes in large quantities. I know what it’s like to tell yourself “tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll make better choices” and then tomorrow comes and some things never change
He doesn’t.
What he sees is what he does. He likes (addicted too) the taste of that diet soda in your hand. He also likes (addicted to) those chips in your cart. I’d bet you $20 he also likes (addicted to) the boxes of sugar coated cereal laying under big bag of Hershey’s kisses wrapped in the shiny green and red foil. Now you’re mad at him for crying and making your life a little harder and a little more frustrating at the moment. Would he also cry that way if you had a bottle of water in your hand? How will you stop him from being upset? Will you take him through a drive through and stuff his little mouth with enough sodium for a grown man (for a week) in the form of fries that come in a happy meal?
In that moment I was felt so bad for this kid. I felt anger towards the mother who probably doesn’t realize the path her son is already on. The path she has probably traveled her entire life. It made me wonder what kind of message I give off to those around me. It doesn’t matter if you’re a mom, a dad, a sibling, a relative, a friend, a co-worker or even just an acquaintance. What we see is what we do. When I am in a situation and everything around me is screaming make unhealthy choices: I make the same choices. It’s why I constantly strive to surround myself with people fighting to save their lives. When I see people struggling to gain control of their lives I fight harder to make the right choices in case they are watching…
What we see is what we do.
What are you doing?
Some things never change but it doesn’t always have to be that way. Everything can change if you want it too. The choices you make today not only affect you but those around you and even people you may not realize who are paying attention. What kind of messages are you sending? What kind of messages are you receiving? Whatever you think you’re saying, doing or showing: People (and that little crying boy in the shopping cart at Wal-Mart) hear you loud and clear!
Sometimes it’s hard to look at old pictures.
I can put the before and after pictures side by side and be amazed at the transformation that has taken place over the last 24 months and yet some days find myself still upset at all the “wasted” years spent either sitting on the couch or looking deep into the refrigerator hoping to find comfort in myself and my life by eating my way to 270 pounds. I often think about what could have been if I had always been health conscious (or at least more active). What if I had played sports in high school? Would I have been good enough to get a scholarship into college? What if the first time I tried to lose weight I had been successful? Would I have been so passionate about making sure I never saw the words morbidly obese attached to the number on the scale?
I try not to dwell on the what could have been.
(Though it’s difficult not too)
Because this is exactly where I am supposed to be.
I do not believe it is a coincidence that my life has taken the path laid out before me. Two years ago I couldn’t even begin to imagine what life would be like today. The hundreds of friends I’ve made, the miles I’ve run and more importantly the love I found some four thousand miles away from my little hometown.
Today Meegan and I did something that answers the “what if’s” (at least for me). Over the last six months we’ve talked about what it would be like to team up and share our stories together. As an individual weight loss story each of us are amazing. What we’ve accomplished on our own in nothing short of miraculous.
But together…
Together.
We are unstoppable.
For six months we talked (what if). For six months we planned (what if). Today we executed: The Healthy Dynamic Duo. Still in the baby stages, I hope this new combined blog will take our journeys one step farther to doing what I know in my heart I’m supposed to do – help others to take control and go after what they deserve the same way both Meegan and I have done. What does TheHDD look like? What do I envision? To be honest, I have no idea. All I know is that it feels right. Focusing on what is important to both of us (Living, Loving and eating Good Food), TheHDD is a place where as a couple we remember why we fight the fight of a lifetime…
A Life Changing Journey will still be my personal (read emotional dumping) blog. Nothing here will change (but really everything has changed). Keep your eyes peeled here and there because my what if’s are about to come true!
 Of that there is absolutely no doubt.
It’s what we do in those times of changes that shape us as people, and as weight loss success stories (and sometimes not so much success stories). It’s no secret that over the course of the last 12 months my life has taken some dramatic changes. If you’ve been here a while you’ll know about them (divorce, marriage, losing a home, gaining a new country). If you’re new to this little place known as “A Life Changing Journey” trust me when I tell you who I was is no longer who I am.
Maintenance mode has been my primary focus over the last year. This time last November I was closing in on the 100 pound milestone that I worked so hard during the previous eleven months to reach. I was getting ready to step up to the starting line of my first half marathon and building a friendship that would eventually turn everything I thought I knew about love inside out and upside down. I thought once I reached that pinnacle place in my weight loss journey the proverbial waves of chaos would calm down and I would float through life having learned how to love myself and love my relationship with food…
I thought I was in control of everything.
A year later I know this to not be true.
It would be a lie for me to tell you that maintenance has been easy. It would be a lie for me to tell you that I can joyfully walk into any food situation and feel in absolute control of what goes into my mouth and even more in control of what goes on in my thought process. It would be a lie for me to tell you that I don’t fight the urge to binge and cover up the stresses of life with gooey, sticky, calorie heavy foods. It would be a lie for me to tell you that once you reach “goal” weight life is like a bowl of low-fat, low-calorie yet still “party in your mouth” delicious ice cream (complete with all the sundae fixins).
I’ve made it through my first year of maintenance.
The journey is nowhere near over.
People ask me how I managed to keep the weight off for the last year and to tell you the truth I’m not really sure I have an answer for that. At least not one specific answer / reason. Can I give you a list of why I think I’ve lost a total of 120 pounds (and then forcing my body to regain 10 before comfortably adjusting to the 160-165 pound range I’ve been at for the last six months)?
Sure…
In fact pull up a seat.
- I put myself first and foremost. Granted I don’t have any children so this is a little easier for me than many people on their own Life Changing Journeys but the one thing we do have in common is I used to think my needs were not as important as those around me. Everything I wanted out of life took a back seat because I felt I wasn’t worthy enough of having my own dreams. I watched my now ex-husband make the dramatic changes in his life knowing it could put a risk on the survival of our relationship. Yet he went forth because ultimately he needed to be happy with who he saw in the mirror. I knew I needed to do the same thing. It wasn’t his changes that ended the relationship; it was mine. I put myself first and realized that I wasn’t happy and that for the first time in my entire life my happiness was more important than that of anyone else.
- I remain committed to the changes I’ve worked so hard to achieve. I see what I’ve been able accomplished in just under two years and I am constantly striving to achieve more. I look in the mirror often and study my body. I remember from where I came and look at old pictures. I touch the skin that hangs because of the fat that has left and I also touch the skin that is now filled with muscle. This body is strong. It is fast. It is capable of some amazing feats. But those feats are in the past. Every time I accomplish one thing I am looking forward to the next. Nothing is out of my reach…
- I also remain committed to the emotional changes I’ve worked so hard to achieve. I allow myself to feel what ever emotions is keeping me company. I do not turn away from myself. I turn into myself and care for me as if I am a close friend. I’ve learned that emotions come and go, ebb and flow and what I feel now is not necessarily what I’m going to feel in five minutes. I truly believe that I deserve to have emotions, that I deserve to feel them and that I deserve to love myself regardless of the emotions that define me in the moment.
- I allow myself to stumble. This journey is not a smooth path from point A to point B. It is full of bumps and curves and trails that sometimes takes me farther away from my destination than I anticipated. I check in with myself constantly. If I feel like I am not on the path to success then I figure out where I am and get my ass back to where it belongs. I don’t dwell for too long on the mistakes that I *think* I might be making. I dwell on all the things I’m doing right. I dwell on the small changes that I can make that turn into huge changes that turn into life changes.
- I look to the people in front of me that are where I want to be. I look behind me at the people who want to be where I am. This journey is about sharing, loving each other, motivating each other. This journey is not about having an ego about what I have been able to do but rather about being the ladder to help others climb. I refuse to go back to weighing 270 pounds, being depressed and scared of what I deserve to have. I will not allow other people to go back either. My fight is the fight for everyone. I can’t do that if I go back to where I once was.
I can’t.
(because I deserve this)
You can’t.
(because you deserve this)
#truth
 The holidays are fast approaching.
It begins with Halloween and the notion that a bite size candy bar popped into our mouths won’t do much damage. One here. One there. One every time some cute kid knocks on the door and screams “trick or treat”. It continues with the day after Halloween and all the candy that we didn’t buy before the 31st going on sale to be consumed after the 31st. We can’t help it. We negotiate the purchase by promising to put it on the highest shelf in the kitchen and only eating a few pieces every once in a while. I mean seriously who can pass up a big bag of bite size (insert candy bar brand here) for only $3.99.
We’re good for a few days but then all hell breaks loose and before we know it, not only had the Halloween candy from our house been digested but so has the abundance of candy in the work place and quite possibly the candy collected from our children.
For me personally, I don’t have any children. My modus operandi was always to buy four or five bags of candy with the notion that I would see hundreds of happy little children prance up to my door and serenade me in their angelic voices to share the wealth.
Funny thing is in all the years I’ve been passing out candy I never got more than a few dozen children. I used them as an excuse to buy more than I needed just so I could say “oh well now I’ll have to eat what’s left over”.
Halloween candy sales are replaced with the Football party shopping. Bags of chips, cans of cheese dips and 2 liters of diet soda are consumed in mass quantities. Here’s another funny story: I’ve never even been to a football party. I just bought the crap because it was on sale and if I had one bag of chips in my shopping cart, well hell let me get three because no one will know the difference. No one is going to give me the stink eye and if they do I just say “What about those Raiders?”.
The end of November finds us looking down at a plate so overladen with food we hardly know where to begin and when we’re finished and need to unbutton our pants to find comfort we tell ourselves “No pie” only to reply to the inquiry with a “I’ll just take a small piece”.
And then December hits us.
Holiday party after holiday party after freaking holiday party. Cookies and fudge. Candy canes and mint flavored taffy with the cute Christmas tree smack dab in the middle. Eggnog and spiced ciders. Everywhere we turn food is being handed to us and if you were anything like me, I never passed up an opportunity to put food in my mouth while wishing everyone good holiday cheer. Two months of continuous eating with nary a break in the consumption of calories, the packing of fat and the growing another pant size bigger while going deeper into my depression.
I put a stop to that last year.
I intend to put a stop to it this year too.
I am a weight loss success story but it doesn’t mean I don’t fall prey to emotional eating and this is about the time that it starts to really get in my face. I’m more susceptible this year because of all the changes that have taken place in the last six months (you know getting divorced, giving up my house, getting married to Meegan, living 4000 miles apart from her while we figure international logistics, getting ready to move away from the only place I know). I’m also more susceptible because I’m no longer in weight loss mode. Maintenance mode can be sticky (pun intended). No longer being hyper-vigilant to what I’m eating, not counting calories and being more prone to saying things like “hey I lost 120 pounds so I can be a little more lenient”. Add to that the anniversary of my mother’s death is never easy even after 20+ years and you have a recipe for potential emotional melt downs which easily lead to emotional bingeing.
I have some tools in place to help me with the next 60 or so days and I’m putting out there to the universe (aka my blog) to make sure that not only am I accountable for my actions, but to let you know that if you’re struggling with the challenges of the holidays: You are far from alone!
- Halloween I am refusing to eat any treats. Period. I will not allow even one piece of candy to enter my body. I will be using the hashtag #DontEatTheTreat throughout the day and reminding myself that the candy industry doesn’t care about me. It doesn’t care whether I eat one piece or I eat 100 pieces. It doesn’t care that I could easily sit in the car, open up a bag of Halloween candy and consume it in it’s entirety until I made myself sick. It doesn’t care about me, it doesn’t care about you and it will never care about anything but making money. I will not purchase any sale candy and use the excuse that I’m buying it for an office I don’t work in or that it’s for children I don’t have. I will have control today. I will have control tomorrow. In addition to not eating any candy I am also not passing out candy this year. It’s the first time I won’t be sitting at home waiting for the itty bitties dressed in their costumes. I don’t feel bad, nor do I feel guilty about not participating. There are plenty of churches in my area that are doing the annual “Trunk or Treat” and my roommate is preparing the house for any trick or treaters that might come knocking on the door. Instead I’m doing the Dawn of the Dead Dash and will spend two hours running around my town getting chased by zombies, attempting to reach all the check points and finally end up at my favorite coffee place for an amazing Americano.
(Now that’s a Halloween people)
- Thanksgiving A few weeks ago I talked about leaving my Gym (Allstar) and heading over to Jowers Training System. It has been amazing. Bootcamp/crossfit = makes Tara very happy! It was the best decision for my physical body and when my physical body feels good/strong/capable, my emotional/mental body feels good/strong/capable. With my time here in Tacoma coming to an end I really wanted to challenge myself over the next few weeks and stay in control of my eating (stress = prime bingeing opportunities) and also begin practicing some eating changes. So I’ve joined the “Lean Turkey Challenge” for the next 35 days. My team (there are 3 of us) have lost a combined total of 265 pounds (ummmm that’s an entire me at my almost heaviest) and we aim to kick ass and take some serious names while on this challenge. My goal at the end of the 35 days? Drop 2-3% body fat. Today I am considered fit (even athletic on some charts) and let me be the first to say I never in a million years expected to be able to get my body to look the way it does. Muscles where there used to be fat. Definition where there used be sagging. I am ready to take this body that has done nothing but worked it’s ass off (literally and figuratively) to the next level. I have the physical part down, it’s the eating I’m going to be focusing on (while of course lifting heavy shit and perfecting my pull up technique). I am transitioning to eating Paleo and this Lean Turkey Challenge is going to help me stay focused on what goes into my mouth. I’m back to logging food (but not calories). Making sure I’m getting the right combination of proteins, carbohydrates and fats. Trying new recipes that are Paleo friendly and building a strong foundation for eating for health, not for emotions.
(Now that’s a Challenge people!)
- Christmas I’m not so much focused on Christmas as I am the drive across the entire continent of Canada starting December 10th. Early that Saturday morning I will put the last of my belongings in Dusty (my Honda Element), put Meegan in the passenger seat, my key in ignition and leave the only place I’ve ever known. For seven days we will be heading towards Halifax and heading towards a new life together that doesn’t consist of 13 hour plane rides, limited days together and months and months of looking at each other over Skype. But I won’t lie, it’s going to be emotional for me. I am excited beyond words. I’ve never lived anywhere else and I didn’t just pick up and move to another state; I am picking up and moving to another country 4000 miles away. I can’t wait to see what great things we will do together, but I am going to miss my old home as I travel towards my new home. Forty-two years I’ve spent in my neck of the woods never venturing more than forty minutes from the house I was raised in. To say I will be emotional is an understatement. Instead of denying my emotions and using food to comfort my feelings I’m going to embrace everything that I feel. Excitement, fear, happiness, sadness…every last emotion will have a welcome mat in which to stand and be acknowledged. I will not binge. I will not eat unconsciously. I will make the best decisions with the options I have in front of me and once I get to Halifax it will be back to eating clean, eating local and once again figuring out ways to push my body the way it was meant to be pushed.
(and that’s a wrap people! Pun intended)
Question:
What are you doing to challenge yourself over the next 60 days?
Answer:
(That’s where you come in)
 Has anyone ever come up to you and said any of the following statements:
“I’m sorry, can you please stop being so happy.”
“Excuse me, you being happy over (insert situation) is really bothersome”
“Seriously, stop being so damn happy”
“You should feel guilty for being so happy right now”
Sounds stupid but I’m serious when I ask if you’ve ever been told to stop being happy, to feel guilty over being happy or that your happiness is upsetting to other people. I hope that for most of us (if not all of us) we’ve never had anyone come up to us and tell us that being happy is never a good idea…
When we feel the emotions that make us feel good, we feel good (duh). We don’t feel guilty or shameful. We feel like everyone around us wants to be around us. That we aren’t a bother to others. That we have a purpose and a right to feel happy, excited, joyful, alive and down right pleased with all that is around us.
And yet, when we feel the opposite of these “positive” emotions we feel guilty. Guilty for being sad. Guilty for having a bad day. Guilty for feeling down or blue or quiet or unresponsive to the world around us. Guilty for feeling something that isn’t “positive”. We’re afraid to let our “negative” emotions show. Afraid that people will get angry with us. Afraid that people won’t understand or care. Afraid that those around us will become frustrated or impatient. Afraid that people will resent us for having negative feelings…
You know where my guilt got me?
It got me up to 270 pounds.
Morbidly obese
Depressed.
Dead.
I was afraid of my “negative” emotions. I felt like they were a burden on the people around me. I didn’t like to cry in front of other people because I felt my feelings weren’t important enough to share. I didn’t know how to tell someone that I was hurting. I felt guilty for not keeping my “negative” emotions in check. Even alone I didn’t want to experience an emotion that caused me pain. I didn’t want to cry alone, be sad alone, be remorseful alone…So food became my companion. Playing World of Warcraft became my companion. I used both of these things to block out emotions that I was too afraid to feel…
You know what happens when you don’t feel?
You become numb.
Emotions are neither positive or negative.
They are just emotions.
If you are not experiencing sadness: You are not experiencing joy. If you are not experiencing fear: you are not experiencing triumph. If you are not experiencing one emotion: You are not experiencing it’s opposite. Oh sure I used to think I was happy. I smiled when it was appropriate. I laughed when it felt right. I enjoyed certain events in my life but if I stepped back and look at the entirety of my life, I was not happy. You don’t find yourself a drug addict, morbidly obese, lacking determination, having no real purpose in life when you’re happy.
When I first started saying to myself “If I don’t experience one emotion I can’t truly experience any emotions” I was like a baby. I would go from one emotion to the next in a blink of an eye. It was new territory for me. Crying and not turning to food for comfort, being frustrated and not beating myself up for not being successful my first attempt at something, being mad and not feeling guilty were all new steps I had to learn on this Life Changing Journey. I stumbled. I felt like the world was going to come crashing down on me. I was experiencing an emotional overload at times but I learned something that changed my way of thinking and eventually changed my journey:
Happiness > Sadness
Happiness = Sadness
An emotion is an emotion is an emotion.
You get to feel them all. Experience them all. You don’t have the right anymore to let one emotion be more important than the other. You don’t have the right to feel guilty over the way you feel. FEEL WHAT YOU FEEL. When you truly allow yourself to feel sad; You will truly begin to understand what it feels like to be happy. Want to know what it feels like to truly feel triumphant? Allow yourself to be immersed in the fear that comes with what your doing. Want to really feel alive on this Life Changing Journey that your on? FEEL (everything).
Just like starting anything new, it’s awkward. It can feel frustrating. Old behaviors may surface. But just like starting something new, with practice it becomes a skill. Feeling emotions (all of them) is a skill that is so imperative on this journey that I would venture to say we will never be true weight loss success stories until we master the skill of feeling all of our emotions.
Somedays:
I am sad.
I am happy.
I am scared.
I am confident.
I am fearful.
I am triumphant.
I am confused.
I am irritated.
I am calm.
Somedays:
I cry.
I laugh.
I am quiet.
I am shy.
I am in your face.
I am remorseful.
I step carefully.
I run amok.
EVERYDAY:
I AM.
(you?)
  
This is me.
This is me after running 18 miles in the woods.
Easily the equivalent of a marathon on the streets.
If it looks like I’m in pain it’s because I am. It took me 4 hours and 51 minutes to cross this finish line and to tell you the absolute truth: I almost didn’t cross it. This is the Defiance 50k I ran last Saturday and it will go down as one of (if not the hardest race) I’ve ever done. I was physically taken down, mentally chewed up and emotionally spit out.
It’s the first race I actually considered not finishing.
In fact…
I quit.
 But before we get to the finish we have to go back to the beginning. The beginning where I felt good. Where I felt strong. Nervous yes, but ready to conquer this race and earn that 30k so that I could finally move beyond the 13.1 and set my sights toward what I’ve wanted more than anything: 26.2.
I’m smiling in this picture. If there is one important thing I’ve learned running races (besides not tripping and using Body Glide on all my sensitive girly bits) is to look up and smile when going by the photographer. Besides having your ample share of good looking pictures to choose from at the end of your race, smiling also reminds you why you’re running: Because it’s fucking hell fun. I don’t even know what mile this picture was taken. Super early on in the game though that’s for sure. Probably mile 3 or 4 when I still felt strong, still felt confident, still felt like this was going to be a great race…
 This is the actual course. In order to complete the 30k portion I would have to run it twice. The first 9 miles went really well. I came out of the first loop with a time of 2:02:00. I was tired but I still felt like I could keep going and finish this course. I felt confident that my racing shirt would be earned and worn at the end of the second loop.
*A little side story about the racing shirt. I’m one of those runners that won’t wear a race shirt until I’ve crossed the finish line. I’m a staunch believer that it has to be earned. I don’t know when this started but I refuse to wear it before or during the race…this will come to play an important part later on in the day*
Something I’ve also learned about myself is that I have a hard time continuing once I’ve crossed over a perceived finish line. This trail race and the one previous (half marathon) consisted of “looping” or doing the same portion twice. There’s something deflating to my soul watching everyone finish knowing I have to keep going. In other words I finished the first loop strong but as soon as I started the second loop I was not a happy camper. I had to run past people carrying their belongings as they hobbled back to their cars. Back to where they could turn on the heater and rub their hands together to get warm. Back to where they discussed where to go for lunch, get a hot cup of coffee or whether to go straight home and soak their tired bodies. They had finished, I still had nine fucking, oh my god are you serious, what the hell is wrong with me, did I really sign up for this, miles to go. With 90% of the 300 or so runners finishing after one loop the trail became very quiet and it quickly became just me and….
Well just me really.
At some point after passing Mountaineer Tree but before Ellis Alley something happened that I’ve never experienced before: my hamstrings started to seize up. I mean seriously seize up. Like “I think I’m going to throw up from the pain” seizing. I can only explain it as if someone took a burning piece of wood and shoved it into the back of my thighs and said “Now keep running”. I walked a bit, ran (nope)…walked again, ran (nope not that time either). It didn’t take long for the tears to come and the defeat to settle in. I had my phone with me and started a conversation with Meegan to try and keep the panic down to a minimum. I had no idea where I was in miles. I had no idea how far it was to the one and only water station (Fort Nisqually) and I had no idea when I would see another runner go by. As hard as I tried I could not get my legs to move faster than a slow walk.
At some point I decided to quit.
Almost three hours after I started I had made up my mind to stop running and call this race a DNF (did not finish). I was mad. I was frustrated. I was in more pain than I remember feeling before. Above all else I was disappointed. I needed this race to prove to myself that I can run 26.2. The first time I pinned a number to my shirt, ran an official 5k and crossed that finish line I knew I was destined to earn the title of marathoner and yet eighteen months after I first laced up a pair of running shoes and started running it was still just out of my reach.
I had decided to quit but still had to get to the water station in order to seek the medical attention I needed and to get someone to take me back to the beginning of the race. I kept walking and talking with Meegan to keep calm and to convince myself that ending the race was the right thing to do. When Fort Nisqually finally came into sight and I could see people up ahead I ran…
Wait a minute…
Did I just run?
I realize now that the reason I ran again was because I needed to know where I was in mileage. I didn’t know how far I had run, how far I would need to go to finish the race or if I had even passed the elusive 13.1 mile mark I’ve been trying so hard to conquer. I wanted to be around people and the quickest way between where I was and where I wanted to be was to run. To my surprise it didn’t hurt as much as I had thought. However, I must have looked like shit I was done because the medical person came up to me and asked me if I was okay. I honestly told them I thought I was finished but that I wanted to sit for a minute before making the final decision to DNF this race. I took a banana and some peanuts and sat for a bit until it occurred to me to ask where I was…
“Where am I?”
– Sorry?
“What mile marker is this”
– Is this your second time around?
“Yes”
– This is mile 15.2
“Excuse me, did you just say 15.2?”
– Yes.
I did it. I had run beyond 13.1. My mind started racing. Could I do it? Could I keep going? There was only 2.8 miles left on the course. Yes the worst was yet to come on the trail but could I just move my feet a little faster than a walk and run this bitch to the end? I looked down at my handful of peanuts, my half eaten banana and asked myself one of the hardest question I had to answer: Can I give up my race shirt after coming this far? 15.2 wasn’t the end. It was the farthest I’ve run continuously but it wasn’t the finish line. To DNF meant to give up the shirt and to date I’ve yet to NOT earn a race shirt. I finished what was in my hand about the same time the medical person came back to check up on me.
– What’s the verdict?
“I’ll be finishing this race”
I don’t remember much about leaving Fort Nisqually as I made my way to the finish line. There were times where I felt strong and ran as well as if I had just started the race. There were times I had to walk but only gave myself a few hundred feet before running again for fear that my legs would seize up and this time I would have to wait for someone to come find me on the trail. I remember coming to the last part of the race (“Nelly’s Gnarly Descent” was a rope climb down a steep – and I mean steep – hill) and sending Meegan a text: “I’m almost done”!!! I remember letting go of the rope and realizing that this was it, I had finished. I came out of the woods and stared down the concrete path to the finish line. It was then I started cry almost uncontrollably. I was in pain but I was finishing. I had quit but then I didn’t. I tried to smile as I headed for the finish line but decided that I wanted my true emotions to be in these finisher photos…
After all, just like the race shirt, I had earned them.
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