Full Circle



It's been nine and a half months since I began a new chapter in my life.  I'd be lying if I said it's been easy and I've been able to breeze right through it.  It just ain't so.  It's been a lot of hard work and frustration in the process.  What I can so though is this: Even though I'm not where I want to be yet, it's so worth it!  I am making my way full circle on this journey and happily learning I'm not as broken as I thought I was.

 

 

Cracking 4K

It’s not some weird alternative to a Color Run or your average 5K! I cracked 4000 views on my blog night before last! The word excited immediately comes to mind, but doesn’t quite seem to capture it. I’m literally on a strange high right now. Maybe it’s all of the exercise the last few days, I don’t know, but I like it! I feel like I did back in January when I started this whole gig with DDPYOGA! In case you were wondering: It’s awesome to feel this way!

As I reflect back on the last eight and a half months, I feel truly blessed, humbled, and so lucky. I have learned a lot about myself over the course of the last several months, but I think I’m really just now starting to grasp what I’m truly capable of once I set my mind to something. I don’t think I’ve ever truly understood how strong I could be until now.

My hiatus the last couple of months was brought on not of my own devices. I wouldn’t have chosen it, but, in a way, I am glad it happened. Such happiness might seem unwarranted given my meager state the last few months. However, there is logic behind the seeming madness of being happy about what I’ve recently been tangling with. It follows if you will follow with me.

When I have had significant flares in the past with my Psoriatic Arthritis, it has sometimes taken me six months or better to recuperate. ANY effort I had put into getting healthy prior would be all but lost by the time I would come out of the “flare fog“ as I like to call it. I would give up every forward step I had taken in exchange for three giant leaps backward into the bowels of unhealthy eating and the Lazy Boy of sedentary life. And I would stagnate there until I just rolled further and further back downhill to the point I no longer reaped a single benefit from all the hard work I had put in previously. It was a ridiculously vicious cycle, almost heinous really. More than anything though, it was a little sad. Every time it would happen, I was further convinced I would always fail at getting healthier and feeling better. That, my friends, is a cold, stark place to be.

To go through the flare I went through this summer with my Psoriatic Arthritis and to still be on steroids after a year and to still be working full-time and to still be a mother to five wonderful but rambunctious children AND still be moving forward: That for me is a miracle. That for me is the place I want to be. That. That. That. Moving forward. Not giving up. Not losing all progress because of a short term set back. That didn’t use to be me.

Cracking 4,000 on my blog has been pretty awesome for another reason. Aside from the 928 views that belong to my husband (haha), there are a lot of people looking at this blog. Many of them I know. Many of them I don’t. I have had enough people comment on my Facebook, comment on teamddpyoga.com, comment directly on the blog, send me private messages, call me, etc. to know I am doing something else entirely as important as getting myself healthy. I’m helping other people get healthy. I’m no “health guru”. I’m no DDP. I’m no Stacey Morris. I’m no Arthur Boorman or Terri Lange or any number of other awesome and inspiring people. I’m just me. But I’m still helping people. And as good as getting healthier feels, helping others is one of my weaknesses in life. Some might even say I’m a sucker to a fault at times although I would never call out my husband, my mother, my mini Italian New Yorker friend or my Dicky Barrett loving STL connection like that publicly or anyone else for that matter... ;-)

I’m glad I’ve caught my second wind. I hope you are, too. It’s going to be a wild and an awesome ride!

If You Can't Say Anything Nice

Despite evidence to the contrary which may suggest otherwise, I haven’t quit. I haven’t given up. I’ve just been doing what I always do when I find myself in a negative mental state, and that’s been to withdraw. My momma always told me that if I couldn’t say anything nice, well, just don’t say anything at all. I haven’t been finding myself particularly “inspirational” here lately, so, I retreated inside myself to try and dig through my “delicate” psyche and figure out just what my problem is. So, want to know what I have learned?

It boils down to two simple words really and my epiphany isn’t exactly what I would call jaw dropping. It’s pretty basic really:  I’m human.

I know. Crazy, right? You were expecting some real wisdom weren’t you? Believe it or not, that is real wisdom. I talk all the time about the importance of understanding yourself, giving yourself a break when you fall, etc. Those things are always easier said than done though. I recognize that and I have for a while. Trying to apply such wisdom directly to myself on a consistent basis, well, not so much.

So what I have tripped and fallen a thousand times this year!!! What I need to focus on for the moment is this: Where am I today compared to one year ago today? Have I moved forward? ABSOLUTELY! Have I made positive changes? ABSOLUTELY! Am I healthier? ABSOLUTELY! So, why do I continue to beat myself up because my DDPYOGA journey hasn’t been stellar thus far? Good question!!!

I think primarily because it’s so much easier to focus on the negative about yourself. It’s hard when you set a goal and you only get half way there (in the time you anticipated) to think about the fact you may not be where you want to be, but you're at least closer than you were yesterday or the day before or a year ago. So, I’m going to take a moment and focus on some of the positives that have occurred over the last several months despite the fact I am not as far along as I had hoped I would be at this point.

The first focus is working out. Did I work out last year? Perhaps, but it was probably by accident and without design. I wish I had been keeping up since day one with how many DDPYOGA workouts I have done and other exercise this year. I know that in the first nine months of this year I have exercised at least four times as much as I did last year in it’s entirety! No, I haven’t worked out daily this year. In fact, there have been some weeks I haven’t worked out at all. BUT… I am still closer to my goal in that respect than I was a year ago. Right? Now all I have to do is work on better consistency. Boom.

The second focus is eating. Did I eat healthy last year? No, not really. Fried foods, lots of sugar, and oh dear Lord the gluten. Donuts. Cake. Whatever I wanted to eat. That’s what I ate. Have I had those things this year? Yes. However, I can guarantee you that I have had less gluten, sugar, and fried foods this entire year than I would have consumed in a month last year! I know that for a fact! So, am I eating perfectly? No. However, I have dropped the gluten. I eat VERY LITTLE dairy. I don’t eat any fried foods. The vast majority of my sugar intake is from natural sources like fruit versus junk pumped full of sucrose or high fructose corn syrup. My breakfast today was two homemade gluten free waffles with light syrup. Lunch? A smoothie with the following: 2 cups fresh spinach; 1 cup unsweetened almond milk; ½ cup chocolate almond milk; 1 cup frozen strawberries; 1 cup cucumber; 1 scoop protein powder; and 1 tablespoon flax seed. I sipped on that for about an hour. It was delicious, nutritious and filling. I never would have taken the time or even thought about making that for lunch last year.

A yummy grill cooked ribeye and a salad sans dairy (except goat cheese) and no gluten (no fun stuff like croutons) was dinner tonight. However, my salad with my feta cheese, mushrooms, cucumber, romaine, tomato, and gluten free sweet Vidalia dressing was the bomb! And snacks? I had a few of those. I had a protein bar and some carrots. That’s promising. Boom.

The third focus is weight. I have lost over 40 pounds this year. Granted, I am only down about 32 pounds because I gained back 15 pounds and then lost seven back. However, I don’t think I lost any weight last year with this possible exception: I’m pretty sure I just yo-yoed the same few pounds up and down and up and down without any real effort to lose anything. I rather stayed on a steady upward incline. I was too tired, frustrated and defeated to even bother. Despite the issues I’ve had reclaiming my mojo the last few months, I have managed, for the most part, to keep ¾ of the weight I lost the first four months of this year: OFF. I’m also finally crawling back on board. It’s been a snail’s pace, but I’m finally here. I’m going to be hitting 40 again in no time flat and adding some more to that lovely number. Boom.

The fourth focus is general mental well-being. The jury might still be out on this one. HAHAHA Despite this horrific flare I still had over the summer, there is one thing I know for certain: I have felt some frustration and defeat this year, but, and this is a really BIG but, I haven’t thrown in the towel. I haven’t quit. I haven’t given it up. Although I did gain some weight back, I was still eating gluten free and healthy overall. I have slacked on my exercising due to fatigue, but I am going to motor on through it. I have to. Last year it wasn’t even an issue of trying to overcome my fatigue or get past a block: I just didn’t even start. So, at least I have started this year. At least I haven’t given up. At least I am still learning every day. And I’m doing nothing but picking up steam for this stalled train right now. I’m getting ready to bust on down this track. Boom.

So, despite the drawbacks entrenched in my year thus far and despite my repeated falls off the wagon, I’m still headlong into my DDPYOGA journey. I’m picking myself up for the umpteenth time and brushing myself off. I’m also thinking about all of the wonderful things I’ve managed this year rather than just focusing on what I didn’t get done that I wanted to. A few things I have met goal wise this year: I DID lose 40 pounds; I was able to stop taking one of my blood pressure medications; I bought a new swim suit for the first time in over five years and was fairly pleased with how it looked on; I purchased clothes outside of the Women’s/Plus Size section that actually fit; I gave up gluten; I have successfully convinced my children that things like grapes, apples, and carrots are awesome snacks; I’ve worked out with my kids; I’ve learned how to eat healthier even on the hectic days; I have been called "skinny"; I have had a flare, but not one that has been able to completely take me out; and on and on.

To try and calculate what I have learned so far this year simply by stepping on a scale, well, that just doesn’t work. Obviously it’s the easiest of calculations and that calculation currently equals 32 pounds. There’s so much more though. I’d say for the better part of my life I’ve generally been a “pick yourself up by the boot straps” kind of gal, and I’ve always managed to do it throughout my life as needed and when necessary. What I haven’t been able to do a lot though is get on with letting myself off the hook and moving on when the picking up that needed to be done was a result of my own stupid mistakes or slacking or just plain giving up.  The knowledge I have gleaned from the DDPYOGA program and my new all time favorite book, Wheat Belly, well, that's really immeasurable in terms of what it's doing for my life and health.

From here on out, I’m going to work a little harder on more walking the walk than just talking the talk when it comes to giving myself a hard time about everything I haven’t done. I’m also going to try and focus more on thinking about all of the goals I have managed to reach rather than just the ones that I didn’t. I’m going to try and look at the whole picture rather than just beating myself up about that one part of it that doesn’t look so hot. I’m also going to work my tail end off though to meet my goals.

Goal number right now: Be down a minimum of 50 pounds by January 4, 2014. That will be my one year mark, and that gives me three and a half months to lose 18 pounds. I lost 37 pounds earlier this year in four months. The holidays might not be as tasty, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be filled with less regret come the New Year! It also doesn’t hurt I have been so challenged by someone who has been an integral part of this journey. I’m not going to fail at this; I’m not going to fail him either.

Ready to Live Life at 90

Well, I lied. The old Dell was revived! I assumed the worst and figured she was just gone, but turns out it was just a bad power cord. So, for the low price of $34, my computer is back up and running! Yippee! You know what that means? That’s right! Fresh installments on the blog served up just for you! I get it. It’s what you’ve been dreaming of the last several days. Well, here you go…

I love listening to DDPRadio on Wednesday nights. It’s always informative, refreshing, and motivational. As I listened last week and again tonight, I think it really began to hit me why this whole thing has made such an impact on me. By this whole thing, I mean the “DDPYOGA Lifestyle Change”! I’ve been a social worker for over a decade. I’ve been a birth mother, stepmother, “foster mother”, and now an adoptive mother. The roles of social worker and mother are wholly about giving to others; helping them grow; instilling the desire to improve one’s life; and teaching others that anything they can dream is possible with the right amount of inspiration and perspiration. More importantly probably than any of that though, and I really pull this from my years as a juvenile probation officer and motherhood: reminding people they are human and that we are all fallible. We will fall and we will make mistakes. That’s a given in life. The trick is teaching yourself how to not hold it against yourself, but rather to just learn from it and pick up and go on. That’s always been the tricky part for me. When I screw up, I have a tendency to really let that screw up linger in my mind, and drag me down. I’ve been trying more and more since I began this in January to do that less and less.

I work a full-time job. I am a wife and a mother to five children. I am also a patient diagnosed with a very active autoimmune disorder. While I chose three of those four roles in my life, I certainly didn’t choose the last. The first three roles: social worker, wife and mother can be stressful. However, those roles bring me so much joy on so many levels, it all has a tendency to work itself out. However, I didn’t choose to have an auto-immune disorder. I didn’t decide one day that being really sick, in pain and tired all of the time would be an awesome way to live life. It’s not as though I chose to do drugs or become an alcoholic. I was just unfortunate enough to be born with a genetic pre-disposition to this disorder and a little over a decade ago, it decided to rear it’s ugly head. So, there it is.

The way I see it is that I have two choices. The first is to wallow in self-pity, be a Debbie Downer, and stay generally miserable. The second choice is to take the bull by the horns and lead my life where I want it to go instead. I think I’m choosing the latter and I feel there’s something important along the way stemming from all of this. When I think about living my life at 90% as Dallas would say, I realize it’s definitely my choice to react in a positive way to the things that have happened to me. I realize I can let one of the four roles in my life define my every moment or I can choose to have the other three roles I love define my life. It’s all about life being 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react. So, I choose the latter, and I’m going to take as many people with me as I can while I’m on the way!

Falling Forward

Well, the ole Dell has gone on to be with Computer Jesus.  I'm unsure if we are going to ever be able to revive her.  So, as it stands now, I'm updating my blog from my iPhone.  If you have never tried working on a blog from your iPhone, I don't recommend it.  As awesome as my iPhone is, it's pretty limited in its blogging capabilities.  I may just be less technically advanced than the average Joe, but I can't even figure out how to edit any of my current pages outside of editing just the blogs themselves.  I've also yet to figure out how to add a pre-recorded video.  Should have reconsidered that Criminal Justice degree.  What can you do?

So, my now poor computer is broken down and it matches my broken down body!  Ha!  Not going to let that get me down though!  I'll do what I can to keep the blog up from my beloved iPhone until I figure something else out!

In the meantime, I'm pressing onward.  I think I have officially reclassified my recent failures from the category of failures to simply falling forward!  DDP said that while we were talking on DDPRadio last night and he couldn't be more right.  Although I have had an extremely challenging few months, I still haven't given up, and I won't!  No matter how many road blocks are set in my path, I'm not throwing in the towel!  Although I'm only down 30 pounds right now, I had gained back 15 of the 40 I lost.  That's been primarily due to a lack of working out because of my current arthritic flare and fatigue issues.  Unlike before when I would have such issues and just say screw all of it, I haven't done that this time.  Although I'm not eating perfectly, I'm still eating gluten-free save a piece of cake at my cousin's wedding last weekend...

My dog can die, my computer can fizzle, my body can revolt, whatever else can happen: it  doesn't matter.  Life's been throwing all it's got at me for a hot minute.  I'm gonna keep on trucking and when I fall, I'm gonna fall forward.  Then I'm going to get up, dust myself off, and do it again.

Suicidal Tendencies and the Auto-Immune Disorder

Years ago, I worked with a lady who has Lupus.  Although she lived with chronic pain, she didn’t miss a lot of work which really impressed me.  I remember having a discussion with another co-worker one day about how awful it must be to live with chronic pain.  While I often had issues with my back at the time, it was transient at that point.  I would have “spells” where it was just horrific, but they would only last a few days.  Then it would slowly get better over time, and then eventually it would almost completely go away.  Despite the fact I was in chronic pain, I was at least appreciative of the fact that it was “livable” pain.  It wasn’t until January of 2011 that I got my first mega-dose of chronic pain when I had the worst “spell” I’d ever had.  That one lasted over a month.  It was horrific.  It was grueling.  It brought me to the lowest point I’d ever had in my life - mentally and physically.

As my co-worker and I talked back then, I lamented the mental state of folks with chronic pain.  Because I had a reference of understanding, I could understand fully why someone with chronic pain would contemplate suicide.  It’s a bitch living day-in and day-out constantly hurting.  You get to a point where you can’t even fake it anymore when someone says, “How are you?”  You either just come right out and say, “Man, it really sucks to be me today.”  Or you might tell the truth and try to liven it up a little  with a smile on your face and say something like, “Well, totally awful but what’s the point in talking about that!  How are you?”  Although fairly rare, I’ve done both I’ll admit.  Although lately, the former rather than the latter is what tries to escape my lips more often. 

As my disease has progressed, I have had to learn to live with chronic pain.  The first of this year for about three or four months, I was waking up practically every day almost completely pain free.  It was enough that I could get by without having to take ibuprofen, but this, this was wonderful.  Slowly though, the brick wall has thrown itself back up, and I’ve found myself sliding rapidly back into the pit of chronic pain despair.  Believe me, it’s not been for lack of trying to stay out.  Although my work out record lately has been less than stellar, I’ve been sticking almost 100% to eating gluten free.  My intake of dairy is extremely low to generally none.  My intake of carbs comes entirely from non-bread, non-pasta, non-wheat sources.  I confess my sugar intake could use some work.  I’ve had a bit more lately than I should.  I’m working on it.

Despite the fact I had been doing EVERYTHING right for several months, and a lot still right for the last few months, my disease has taken back complete control of my body.  I’m not sure why.  I haven’t thrown in the towel.  I’m not giving up on at least minimally eating right, and I’m hoping and praying that soon enough, I’ll be back to working out again daily.  For now, the pain is keeping me at bay.  Between the low back pain, the pain in my upper back, hips, and the return of my beloved Costchondritis (painful inflammation of the chest wall), working out is just not even an option.  Additionally, my feet continue to break out, and now my hands are breaking out again.  My  hands generally only break out when I’m in a pretty significant flare.  This one fits that bill.

I confess I contemplated suicide in January of 2011.  There were moments when I considered the pain to be more than I could bear.  There were moments when I really, genuinely thought my family would be better off without me.  There were moments when the life insurance money seemed to me to be a better deal for my family than keeping my broken down self around.  Then I would think about things like my husband trying to get my four year old dressed in the mornings and it just didn’t seem to be as viable an option as I had thought.  In all seriousness though, I really did feel that low.  And it was hard.  It was hard to dig my way out of that.  But I did.  It left me with the realization that if I didn’t have faith, a wonderful husband who is supportive, and five beautiful children, what would have stopped me?  The answer is simple: I don’t know.  I don’t know what would have stopped me then if I didn’t have them, and friends I love, and extended family who mean a lot to me.  I realized the selfish choice of that momentary desire even if I thought I would be doing them a favor.  I realized the truth of words I recently heard my teen quote, “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

Am I contemplating suicide now?  No.  Is this blog some veiled threat or foreshadowing to what I am thinking about doing?  No.  Understand what this blog is.  This blog is a reminder that even when you look at someone who looks like they need to drop a few pounds but looks perfectly healthy otherwise, you don’t know what battles they are struggling with internally.  You don’t know how they are feeling at the moment.  I can easily hide or distract from the couple of “visible” symptoms of my disorder, but I’ve really mastered hiding the ones you can’t see particularly if you don‘t know me very well.  Most people would never know on the day to day over the past decade that I’ve battled physical pain and fatigue almost daily.  But I have.  And it’s been hard.  I’ve overcome it this far though, and I intend to keep going.  If nothing else, I’m going to be the poster girl for working women and mothers with auto-immune disorders.

Despite the despair I am feeling today, I am still hopeful.  I go for my next infusion on Wednesday, earlier if there’s a cancellation.  I’ve contacted my Rheumatologist to let him know about the elevated symptoms so that my infusion can be adjusted accordingly.  I’m feeling low.  I’m feeling down and out.  I know this is just yet another storm I have to weather.  I will overcome it.  At the same time, I am cognizant of the fact there are people out there who lack faith, the support I have from family and friends, or who just haven’t yet mastered the skills I’ve been lucky enough to master to deal with my disorder and everything else that comes with being me.  I still get depressed; I still get down.  I always come up swinging though.  I’m saddened for my brothers and sisters out there who eventually go down and can’t make it back up.  I’ll never judge.  I’ve never been in their shoes regardless of what I think my experience has taught me.

If you are reading this and you are struggling with any of the following:

• Chronic Fatigue
• Chronic Pain
• Depression
• Any auto-immune disorder
• Obesity
• Whatever other sorry demon you’ve got in your life

… Remember these problems and/or flares are only temporary.  I have found my golden ticket between DDPYoga and eating gluten-free.  I know this is the combination that will get me where I need to go.  I’ve just got to remember to hang on just a little longer.  I may not ever be “100%” in the world of physical health, but I can give life 100% of what I’ve got.  Faith, patience, and a whole lotta hard work will pay off for me in the end.  As my old pal DDP says, “Life is 10% what happens to you, and 90% how you react.” Add those two numbers together and you get 100%.  So, I’m gonna heed DDP’s advice even on my lowest days.  I’m no math whiz, but I’m thinking 90 is a much larger number than 10.  In other words, maybe not today or even tomorrow, but I’m thinking my 90 is going to kick life’s ten in the ass.  

Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder... Unless You're Me Looking At Me

 The picture on the far left is the picture I took of Libby that Saturday. Do you see what I see? She will always be beautiful - no matter what.

 

 

On the afternoon of Saturday October 13th, 2012 me and my gal Libby had a rare couple of hours of just the two of us in the house. She was all kinds of giggly and excited as she prepared to go to a slumber party and cookout at one of her friend’s houses. She was flitting about all morning on cloud nine. Then I suddenly noticed her gleeful smile was replaced with a sullen face. I looked at her with the question on my face, and... she said to me, “Mama, do you remember last year when someone at school called me fat?”

I did remember. I remembered it quite clearly because she was devastated and it broke my heart for her that someone could say such a thing to her. Her sensitive soul can barely take constructive criticism much less an outright hateful thing. I remember the sting of the same words being said to me when I was not much older than she. I can, to this day, remember the little boy who said it to me. I remember wanting the ground to open up and swallow me. I remember feeling so worthless. And, as quickly as I was taken back to that moment, I had to take Libby out of hers.

I grabbed my phone. I told her to smile for me and I took a picture of her. I flipped my phone around and asked her if she saw what I saw. She shrugged. I told her that what I saw was a girl who was beautiful – not because she wasn’t fat, not because of her gorgeous brown eyes, not because of her chestnut hair, not because of the adorable spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose and dusting her cute little cheeks – not for just those reasons, but because she’s kind. Because she rarely says anything out of anger. Because she wouldn’t just come out and say anything just to be mean to someone (well, except maybe the occasional dig at a little brother…). She didn’t seem totally convinced, so I had no choice but to grab her and commence to counting ribs. That brought on the raucous laughter and, for a moment at least, those stinging words were forgotten.

I know she’ll remember them again. She will have a lull. Her mind will wander. She’ll go back to that place. I wish I could snap my fingers and make it never happen again. I can’t. Almost 30 years later, I still go back to that same place. I hate it. I wish I could erase it. I wish I could never think of it again. The power of words is sometimes too great. Sometimes no amount of time or space can erase their bite. I have struggled with self-image issues for most of my life although my weight has only been a problem for the last decade or so. I know I am what my daughter was called. But, she is not. She is beautiful inside and out. She is kind. She is loving. She is warm. She is sensitive. She is smart. She is funny. She is silly. She is my baby.

When I think about everything that goes on in this world, and how hurt people are by the words of others, I wish there was any way I could make young people, in particular, understand the power of their words. As I reflect on the recent news of another teen suicide spurred in large part by the cruel taunts of others, I am saddened to know there will be more tears from my sensitive daughter. There will be more hurtful words in the future. I can only hope as a parent that the words I choose for her will be powerful enough to overshadow the misguided and misdirected thoughtless and angry words of others.  Think before you speak. Words really do hurt. Sometimes the wounds run so deep they never heal. Sometimes they overtake people before they find the strength to get past them. That’s the greatest tragedy of all.

I won't lie and pretend wearing smaller size clothes and "looking better" aren't awesome motivations for me when it comes to doing my DDPYOGA and eating clean.  I do want to look better and wear smaller clothes.  What I want more than that now though is to FEEL better and to BE healthy; to feel good about myself not because I'm runway ready but because I could run up a flight of stairs without being winded; to have the energy to ALWAYS keep up with my kids; etc.  I want to be able to feel better not because of what others think about me but because I am learning just how strong an impact my own personal thoughts of myself affect my physical health.  The mind is a terrible thing to waste.  Don't waste it on self-loathing and tearing yourself down.  Use to bring yourself up and others with you!

 

What My Dog Taught Me About Life

My last Christmas with my sweet baby girl, Justice.

December 2012

She was meant to be a champion. I think that’s why she was born on Super Bowl Sunday. And she really was. Not a show champion, but a champion in spirit. It was Easter Sunday, April 23, 2000 when I brought her home with me. I had no idea how much she would change my life or how much she would come to mean to me. She was 12 weeks old the day I brought her home. To that point, she was the most adorable thing I had ever seen in my life. For the moment, it was just me and her against the world. I was going through the worst time of my life at that point. I was only a couple of months out from kicking Mr. Wrong to the curb, and our divorce wasn’t even final yet. I was lost and lonely and had no idea how much she would fill the void.

As a newly living single woman, I thought long and hard about a good name for her. It seems to me there was only one name that ever seemed right and it was the name I gave her. I joked about how I needed to give her the name I chose, because who in their right mind upon trying to enter my home uninvited would continue in after hearing her frenzied barking and me calling “Justice” down? Those were my thoughts anyway. So, it was me and Justice.

As a pup, she would curl up on the pillow right next to me and sleep. She was always by my side. I learned early on she was terrified of thunderstorms. No matter how big she got though, she never realized she was too big to sit in my lap when the thunder started rolling (or any other time for that matter). That was easier when she weighed 20 pounds than it was once she hit 90! She was with me always and for as much as I comforted her through the storms in life, she comforted me far more than I ever did her.

When the time came that our little family of two would expand, Justice welcomed every new member heartily. She became our protector. She looked after and loved my husband and children more than I thought was possible for an animal. The more they loved her; the more it seemed she loved them back. My children delighted in using her as a pillow, an object to pull up to standing, a trash compactor, a friend, a comforter and so much more. Each new role she was presented with was met with patience and grace. Those were her babies, too.

I never imagined when I brought her home over 13 years ago that our relationship would develop into such a strong bond. I had no idea how just her mere presence would comfort and calm me through my own storms in life. The most poignant for me being the days following my miscarriage. She instinctively knew something was very wrong. As faithful as ever, she stayed with me every moment. She was there for me and comforted me right down to licking my tears. Losing her two days ago, well, it’s left a hole in my heart I don’t think I’ll ever really be able to fill.

I have long heard the adage, “I want to be as good a person as my dog thinks I am.” There’s so much truth to that. Honestly though, I think it’s almost a little backward. I wonder sometimes if it shouldn’t read, “I want to be as good a person as my dog is.” I know this may sound trite to a person who isn’t a big animal lover, and I recognize we can’t all be. I also know some people don’t understand the love a human can have for a dog or vice versa. That’s cool, too. Some people are animal people and some are not. Regardless of what your personal feelings are in regards to animals, it doesn’t change the fact that my dog taught many things.

Here are a few of those things:

- There’s no such thing as giving too much love.
- You should let people know you will miss them even if you know you’ll see them tonight.
- Forgiveness is divine.
- Thunderstorms are really scary, but less scary with someone you love.
- Exercise can be a lot of fun especially when it’s a thrown tennis ball.
- Comforting someone you love doesn’t require knowing the “right” words to say. Sometimes it requires no words at all.
- It’s as important to accept praise as it is to give it.
- Patience is a virtue.
- You should let people know you are happy to see them even if you just saw them this morning.
- The desire to help and love can transcend almost any barrier.

I could probably create an endless list if I really tried. These are a few of the bigger points. I guess what all of this boils down to is simply this: It’s easy in life to get caught up in the negative. It’s easy to get stressed out. It’s easy to feel sad. It’s easy to feel lonely. It’s easy to wonder, “Why me?” If you really want it to be though, it could be just as easy to find the positive. It could be easy to let go of worry. It could be easy to be happy. It could be easy to not feel alone. It could be easy to think, “I am blessed.”

I always knew my dog was great, but I never really knew just how much my dog had taught me about “living life at 90%”. I’m really hoping as I continue through this process of self-discovery and self-improvement that I can teach others and help and inspire people. I also hope some day I’ll be as wonderful as my dog.

 

A Little Coat of Paint

This abandoned farm house looks better than one I saw!

Yeah, this one is in much better shape.  LOL.

One of my mother's favorite stories to tell about me is one that occurred when I was around four years of age. At the time, she was a single mother and there wasn't a whole lot of extra money to go around. We use to sometimes take weekend drives out in the country for entertainment. Sometimes we would take a picnic. Sometimes we'd take old bread and go feed the fish at Ledford Mill. On one such sunny Saturday afternoon, we took the fairly usual tour.

There was only one difference in this trip. There was an old abandoned farm house not too far from the mill. On this particular day, there was a for sale sign nailed into a tree in the front "yard". I hesitate to use the term yard without quotes because it was less like a yard and more like an overgrown field in front of a house. For whatever reason, my mother decided playing a prank on the sweet, young, innocent four year old gazing contently out the window was in order for the day. She slowed the car to a stop in front of the old abandoned house. Excitedly she exclaimed, "Look, Stephanie, it's for sale! Let's go look at it." I'm not even sure it initially registered with me what she was up to, so I dutifully followed unaware of the impending hijinks.

To say the house was rundown would be a pretty kind understatement of it's condition. It had likely been sitting there abandoned for at least a decade or two and was likely to have been in that spot since the very early 1900's. Walking up to that house seemed a bit daunting. It had all the classic symptoms of a structure in decay: peeling paint, broken windows, floorboards missing on the porch, steps up to the porch crumbling, etc. In my four year old little mind, this house would be the perfect home for some decrepit old witch. Looking back, squatters should have been my biggest concern!

I was a bit hesitant about approaching that house. However, my mother seemed so excited. She went up the steps of the porch and pushed open the front door. The door opened to one large room. The entire downstairs was a living area, dining area, and kitchen. I’m fairly certain there was no bathroom. I think there may have been a loft area upstairs but certainly not a full second floor. It was tiny. And the inside, well, it looked just as bad as the outside! There were cobwebs everywhere and decades of dust. It was truly a sad state of affairs for the little house.

My mother suddenly spins around and looks at me and says, “What do you think? Do you like it?” I didn’t know what to say. My four year old mind couldn’t process a single nice thing to say about that dump. I just stared at her, utterly confused. She smiled broadly, “It’s for sale. I think we should buy it.” Well, that was it, I knew she was crazy. How on earth could we possibly live here!? So, I tried to point out the obvious. “But, mom, there’s a big hole in the floor.” I pointed to the hole as if she might somehow not see it right there in the middle of the living room area. She just looked at me and said, “Oh, don’t worry about it! We can put a rug over that.” She was so confident this place was great and I just didn’t know what to make of it.

She could see the disapproving look still residing on my face. She was going to have to kick up the stakes a notch to get me to buy into this whole thing. That’s when the real trickery entered the game.

“Stephanie, if we lived here in the country, you could have a horse!” Well, that did it. Cruel as such an untrue promise is, I bought it hook, line, and sinker. A horse? Dang, are you kidding me? I guess I’d live most anywhere if it meant I could have a horse!!! So, I began to look around that old house with different eyes. I was trying to figure out a way we could make this work. With my finger stroking my chin and wild-eyed wonder in my eyes I said, “Well, with a little paint…”

So, why do I tell such a silly story tonight? What’s the point in all of this? What’s this got to do with DDPYOGA, getting healthy, etc.? Not a whole lot really except to say this: A lot of times we tend to think we can just put a little band aid on something and everything will be alright. We think we should go on a diet, get serious for a minute, eat some Lean Cuisines, exercise for a few days, and that will make up for years and years of abuse our weather worn bodies have taken. We’ll join the gym, we’ll hang out with Jenny, or weigh in with Weight Watchers. What we don’t do is take time for a full over-haul.

That house wasn’t going to make it with a simple coat of paint. My less than world wise naïve four year old mind might have been suckered for the promise of a pony, but that was then and this is now. If we truly want to change our lives, we’ve got to be willing to do a complete re-model. We’ve got to tear ourselves down, and rebuild from the foundation up. We have to retrain our bodies, our minds, and our spirits. You can’t truly achieve a fulfilling and healthy life with only one or even two of these for any great length of time.

I think that’s the reason the whole DDPYOGA program/lifestyle has had such an impact with me thus far while so many other things have failed. Although I have fallen this year, don’t get me wrong, I feel more confident and faithful than ever I am making real, life-long and powerful changes. I’m learning to eat right - I mean REALLY right; I’m learning more than ever how much my attitude/mental/spiritual health can affect my physical health; and I’m learning good exercise can be self-directed, at home, no matter “where” you are physically.

If I’m being totally honest, I guess I like the no BS approach of DDP, too. I believe him to be a compassionate man to a degree that probably no one in the general public could even know, but he’s also not about to just let you off the hook either. He’s gonna play it straight, and tell ya to quit making excuses. And, you know what? He’s right. It’s way past the time for many of us, myself included, to quit making excuses. No more I don’t have time, I don’t feel good, I’m too tired, and on and on ad nauseum. My life needs more than a simple coat of paint. I’m rebuilding my God given temple from the foundation up. Wanna come with me?

Oh, and mom, where's my pony?

Sweating Hard or Hardly Sweating

Last night, I finished a full week of my self-imposed Streak Challenge.  Seven days of working out.  My arthritis and neuropathic pain in my back have been giving me fits, but I gave it the best I had every day.  Some days I sweated like a maniac.  Other days, I hardly sweat a drop.  The dryer days weren't for a lack of trying but a lack of energy to make the workout as impactful as I would have liked.  Doesn't matter.  The point is: I KEPT MOVING.  Every day for the last seven days, I have worked out in some shape, form or fashion.  AND, I am getting ready to work out again...  Today is day eight.  Tomorrow will be day nine.  The next will be day ten, and I will keep going.

I will NOT give up.  Ever.

It's The Small Things

I finally have a video up.  Not incredibly impressive, but at least it's a start!  It's been a ridiculous mess just trying to get this done.  I need to get slightly more computer savvy, but I'm glad I at least have this figured out.  It's the small things.

Today marks day five for the Streak Challenge.  I also continue with my daily plank challenge.  My time was not as good tonight as it was last night.  I only managed to hold the plank 1min 49sec tonight.  I'm also continuing to work on my form.  I know it will get harder to hold the times as I get the form more like it should be.

I start my daily bike rides in the morning.  I should have been training all summer long, but my body had other plans.  Revolt or nay, I have only have eight more weeks until the Jack and Back.  I will not leave my friend Jenny without a pal to ride with.  One way or the other, I'll be on the ride with her... all 110 miles of it.

Back in the Saddle Again

I can't believe I'm going to post my first real video tonight.  I hate being videoed worse than I hate being photographed.  I feel goofy in front of a video camera.  Definitely not my thing.  Now, if you need me to conduct a training on a favored child welfare topic, I can talk all day.  Stick a camera in front of me to introduce a plank challenge and talk about myself for a minute, and I got nothing!

I called into DDPRadio night before last.  The show was primarily about the DDPYoga Challenge, blogs, and who inspires us.  I really wanted to call in and let Stacey and Arthur know how much their hard work is appreciated by me.  I know they hear it all the time, but I figured one more time couldn't hurt.  I've followed the two of them more closely than anyone else and I have just been crazy impressed by the transitions they've made not just in their physicality but in their spirits on the whole.  They may have brand new bodies, but their new leases on life, well, that's where it's at really.

So, in trying to figure out what exactly it's going to take to trip my trigger and get me back on track, I listened and heard a lot about the challenges that have been going on among teamddpyoga members.  I've seen posts about them, but in my retreat the last several weeks, I confess I just hadn't been paying enough attention.  Face meet palm.  Again.

I decided today that I am going to challenge myself on a couple of the challenges that were mentioned.  First, I am going to do the DDPYoga Streak!  Slow down folks!  No, it doesn't involve the removal of clothing!  Ain't nobody got time for that!  Not now anyway, but I digress.  If you don't know, the Streak challenge is to push yourself to see how many days in a row you can go without missing a DDPYoga workout.  So, that's challenge number one.  I just finished up day two.  Woohoo!

The second self-challenge I decided to take on is the plank challenge.  I've really struggled with my upper body strength.  So, what better way to put in a little extra work on that area than doing the plank challenge!  So, without further ado, here's the video from tonight.  Pardon my appearance, I had just finished working out!

Pre-posting edit 8/9/13: My laptop completely DIED last night.  I thought I would just use my work laptop to download the video or maybe not.  For some reason I can't even get in to edit my blog from my work computer much less post a video.  I can post photos from iPhone to blogger, but not videos.  I'm just going to have to hold on to the videos until I can figure out another way to do it or get my laptop fixed.

I didn't want to appear as though i had just dropped off again... Here's where I am since "challenging" myself... AGAIN!

8/7/13: Streak Challenge - RHC

8/8/13: Streak Challenge - Fat Burner

             Plank Challenge: 2 min 13 secs

8/9/13: Streak Challenge: - RHC

             Plank Challenge: 1min 42 secs

             Other: Yard Work - 45 min

And three days entirely gluten-free!  

A couple of pics will have to do until I can get my video situation worked out!

Owning that plank!  Can't wait until I hit the three minute mark!

Victims? Aren't We All?

On January 4, 2013, I did it. And when I say I did, I mean I really did it! I jumped into DDPYoga head long! I jumped right in the deep end! I figured since I knew how to swim, it was going to be all good. I started working out EVERY day! I began eating gluten-free. Even though the weight started coming off almost immediately, it still just didn’t seem quite fast enough. Before I knew it though, I had lost 37 pounds! 37 pounds! I lost 37 pounds in four months! I couldn’t believe it. Holy crap! That’s a lot of weight in four months. More important than a loss of weight equal to my four year old child was how I felt. For the first time ever after starting some kind of weight loss program, I actually was feeling better. Any idea how much MORE that accounts for than just pounds lost???

And, I felt great actually. It was awesome! I was like a freaking Energizer bunny! I was working out every day, working full time, taking care of my five children, smiling the whole time, and NOT hurting! I was waking up practically every morning pain free. It was phenomenal and the best I had felt in years. I gave up Diet Dr. Peppers about a month or so in to working the program. A few months later, I followed that with giving up cigarettes. My two vices in life were gone. Out the door. Done. And I was still standing.

By the time I met DDP and Jake in Cookeville on May 4 at Slamfest, I was reeling with delight. I couldn’t wait to tell them both about my progress and how much they had inspired me to do everything I had been doing. It was an awesome meeting. It was literally everything I could have dreamed of and more. They were both so absolutely gracious and nice. I picked up brochures from DDP that night after I had told him how I had gotten my mom started, and had a few more people were coming on board. I was just excited. I literally felt high, and I was just high on life. I felt unstoppable.

Shortly after Slamfest, I learned there would be an Ultimate Workshop in Atlanta. I talked to my husband about going. I really wanted to go because I felt I needed the boost. For some unknown reason, I started losing steam after Slamfest. Not excitement, not desire, I was just literally running out of steam. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I quite simply could feel the energy leaving my body. Like dew evaporating in the morning sun, once again, some unseen force was sucking the life blood right out of me.

Damn. I really thought I had it this time.

I went to the Ultimate Workshop in Atlanta. Again, awesome seeing DDP. Jake wasn’t around, but I got to meet other teamDDPYoga members. It was just an awesome experience and I will do the next one I can. I thought one more hit of DDP live would boost me over the hump. I wanted it to so badly. It’s the nature of the beast though. I have an auto-immune disorder. I have flares and I have dormancy periods. For whatever reason, this flare has hit me with the absolute hardest knock out delivery of fatigue I have ever had to deal with since I started dealing with this over a decade ago. Honestly, I’m still dealing with it RIGHT now. When it began several weeks ago, I tried really hard to deny it. If only I could pretend it away for just a little bit, maybe it would just disappear. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Instead, despite my best efforts, it has just stayed on like an unwanted guest and I’m still trying to evict it. The fatigue, neuropathic pain, arthritic pain, headaches, they’ve all been back even with keeping the diet. I gave up on the yoga. It’s been everything I can do to drag myself out of bed in the mornings. And while I’m at it…

Forget those ignorant confession pages, cause here goes mine: I picked up the Diet Dr. Peppers again. I was struggling so hard in the afternoons to stay awake at work, I started drinking them for the caffeine pick up to get me through the rest of my work day. When I went from plateau to gain, I picked the smokes back up, too. All I could think about was the few hundred calories it would burn. Short term trade off worth it? I doubt it. But, here I am. I also withdrew from teamddpyoga as well as my blog in part to a lot of craziness that is my life. Definitely not because I was too ashamed to admit my transgressions, but because I just didn’t want to be a drag. Even before DDPYoga, I preferred to be a positive person. After DDPYoga, I was a positive person ALL THE TIME. Literally. I like being that person and I didn’t want to burden anyone with the person I felt I used to be. I don’t like feeling like a victim. I like acting the part even less. I only share what’s happened to me in the past as a means to communicate with and to relate to people: not to whine, not to look for sympathy; just a way to connect and understand. I try really hard to never pull the “victim card”. It’s not who I am. I do, however, frequently pull the “Hey, this is what I’ve been through just like you so we can BOTH get through it” card. That’s more my style.

Victims? Yeah, aren’t we all “victims” of this life? We’re all familiar with the memes that cover that. Walk a mile in my shoes, don’t judge, DON‘T GIVE UP, etc. Yada, yada, yada. Don’t get me wrong. I love the memes. I post them ALL the time, but I want them to be inspiration for me to stay where I am or keep me moving another step on the road I’m going: Not to drag me up out of the depth of some God-forsaken, self-created, miserable little victim hole I crawled into. Ick. I.am.so.done.with.that.nonsense.

So, effective, oh, right about now, I’m done. The tally for the year thus far:

HOLE: 1

STEPHANIE: 1

Starting today, I’m working on score two. The score won’t change much from here. It’s going to look a lot like a low scoring hockey game score when it’s all said and done. Hole ain’t scoring on me anymore. I’m working on goal two and it’s game over for Hole after that. Victim? I don’t think so. 

We're looking at day one of the rest of my life, and I just killed Red Hot Core.  It's on. 

A Little Bit of Pixie Dust?

I had an appointment with my rheumatologist in December of 2012. Things had been going okay and we talked about trying to taper down my steroids again. He wanted me to try and start tapering them down one milligram per week and see if that would work. Although my symptoms still weren’t fully under control, he was hoping the medication I was on would be sufficient to hold it at bay. He also mentioned something to me for the first time. He asked me if I had ever thought about eating gluten free. When I got done laughing at his question, I politely answered I had thought about it and had pretty well determined that would not be a path I would be taking. He informed me there were some studies that had been done indicating there might be a link between certain auto-immune disorders and gluten. He told me he would really like for me to try a gluten free diet. He felt it could possibly help with some of my symptoms and at worst it would do nothing and certainly do no harm. He suggested I read a book called “Wheat Belly”. I dutifully smiled, and said I would read the book. Honestly, I really didn’t think there was anyway I could make this happen, but I said I’d read the book.

I found myself perusing the shelves of Books-A-Million. I found the book fairly quickly and purchased it. I didn’t begin reading it immediately. It sat for a few days. There was one more catalyst I needed to get my thoughts really churning. Although I had, in a way, blown off what my rheumatologist had said, deep down I really felt there might be something to it. I wasn’t ready to face it though. I just wasn’t really sure I could go down the road of making more sacrifices again for naught.

A few days after the appointment I was browsing Facebook. A friend had posted a link to a video. The “amazing transformation” got my attention, and I decided to take a look. I was pretty sure it was going to be the same as lots of other “transformations” I had seen on the interwebs. Some ridiculous claim by some ridiculous person that if I just took this pill or drank this juice I could lose weight without even changing my lifestyle. The all too familiar promises of liars who are all too happy to swipe my card, take my money, and leave me feeling dejected when I fail once again with a new “miracle cure.”

Almost immediately I knew this video was different. This wasn’t about some miracle pill or awesome pre-packaged foods that cost hundreds of dollars a month. This was something different. I was intrigued by this “every day” guy who worked really hard to lose a lot of weight. I was moved to tears when he proved the doctors wrong and set himself free from a life of bondage to his unhealthy body. I cried as I watched him fall and fall and get back up again. I sobbed when I saw the man who had given up on ever feeling good again sprinted toward the camera. I was struck by his tenacity. I was awed by his courage. I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to make those changes. I wanted to feel good. I wanted to be free of my self created prison.

The unique thing about the way this video moved me is important. My initial thought was, “Man, if this guy can do it at 100 pounds more than I weigh, what the heck is my excuse???” He’s got a back brace, two knee braces, and walks with the assistance of crutches. Yeah, I have moments of pure physical pain and torture. For me, however, I at least get reprieves. I’m not stuck in that hell all day every day. Although my symptoms can persist for long periods of time, it’s not as though I never have days where I am relatively pain free. I had literally never seen anything like it. That video, that man, made me want to change the direction of my health. I also felt for the first time in longer than I could remember that it might actually be possible. I felt like I really could possibly make it happen.

I chewed on that video for a few days and decided it was time. I wanted had to do it. I began reading “Wheat Belly” and talked to my husband about ordering the DDYOGA program. Talking my husband into the DDPYOGA purchase wasn’t incredibly difficult given he’s a long time wrestling fan. As I was, my husband was also intrigued with DDP‘s program. After reading about it, watching videos, checking reviews, etc., I really felt as though I had finally found a program that felt tailor-made for me. On January 4^th of 2013, I began.

So, there I was. I took my before pictures. I got my yoga mat and I was ready to work out. I had already been grocery shopping and was cutting gluten out of my diet. I was pumped. The only thing I needed at that point to turn from couch potato to a woman working out daily and going from carb addict to gluten-free eater was to hop on the unicorn in the back yard and go for a ride while waving my magic wand and sprinkling pixie dust all over my little universe.  Right?  I mean, seriously, how likely was I really to change 38 years of bad habits over night? 

Good question. I was pumped. I mean really, really pumped. But could I make it happen? Arthur did.  Could Stephanie do it?  Was she fooling herself or was this really it?  Would a little bit of pixie dust be required to get her flying? 

What Story Do I Tell Myself?

I haven’t blogged this week as I had a house full of guests. Ten guests plus my household of seven kept me busier than a one armed paper hanger! So, I’m trying to get back at it now. So, on we go!

I've managed to cover 37 of my 38 years in about 13 blogs. Needless to say I skipped a lot although some might say I shared too much. Either way, I laid a foundation on the story of me for a few different reasons. Primarily I designed the blog this way so a stranger or someone who doesn't know me that well could come to know how I got to where I am. The hope for me being if they he/she could somehow identify with things I've gone through in my life, it might inspire them and give them hope that they, too, could move past the demons that sometimes appear insurmountable. It's also been a journey of self-discovery for me. I won't lie. I'm hoping to gain some better insight into myself as I go through this process. I don't just want to rehash the past and it mean nothing. I want to talk about it, learn from it, put it away, and move onward and upward.

I guess it begs the question at this point if I have learned anything about myself. I'm not 100% sure "learned" is the necessarily the right word, but I think I am coming to a better understanding of myself. I can't look at all the negative events in my life without simultaneously recalling a lot of positive memories. Despite any struggles I've ever been through in life, no matter how alone I ever felt during those lows, in retrospect I see easily how much love and support I have had throughout everything and it makes me smile. I think it's easy in the down times to lose your sense of self and your self respect. The ability to recognize there are people who love you, and you are worthy of a life of happiness seems like some far off unrealistic ideal. I know I’ve been stuck
there: a lot.

Despite my crazy busy week, I was able to catch about half of DDP Radio on Wednesday night. I’ve been thinking about the show a lot. I wish I could have listened to the entire thing. I don’t know if I could have handled it as the half I caught had me in tears. As I listened to DDP say the words “What story do you tell yourself?” I couldn’t help but think of all the stories I have told myself over the years and the impact those stories have had on me. Truthfully, I don’t think there have been that many stories. Really just one story tells the full tale. My story repeatedly to myself was always the story of a girl who had no worth; a girl who didn’t deserve happiness; and a girl who always had to measure her worth by the yardsticks of others.

Even when I decided to leave the last Mr. Wrong and went on later to marry Mr. Right, I continued to measure myself by the opinions of the man in my life. Fortunately, I stuck with Mr. Right and his opinion is a much better one that Mr. Wrong’s, but the fact that my own self worth still hinged on the thoughts of another, wasn’t a good thing. Like all my relationships before, my esteem rested squarely on Mr. Right. Then we went on to have children, beautiful and intelligent children. So, I moved from measuring my self-worth just by my husband and on to what others thought about how well-behaved or how smart my kids were. Again, my ruler for everything remained how others perceived me. I get to a degree that everyone does this. I just never realized until late last year it was all I ever did.

For the first I found myself in new territory. I had tried to get healthy many times before. Every time I tried, I failed. It hit me for the first time in December of last year why I had always failed before.

I had never done it for me.
I had done it for my husband. I had done it for my kids. I had done it at the urging of other family members and friends. Obviously my husband, my children, other family and my friends are great motivators. It was hard though to make all those kinds of sacrifices, not feel better, and keep on doing it. The end goal was worth it to get started, but even my husband, my children, my family, and my friends weren’t enough to keep me going when I couldn’t see the need to do for it myself. Wow. That’s a pretty big admission. It’s a little sad, too. I think that’s why I cried the other night. I knew I had made this discovery last December. I finally figured out I needed to do it for me. And I was. I was finally doing it for me, and I had seemed to figure out for the first time that I was worth the effort.

Then, somewhere along the way, I lost it.

Bam. The mojo was just gone. I feel like an alcoholic or drug addict who was on the wagon for five months and in one large swoop, I fell from grace. I’m not sure what happened. I have no idea what has brought me to this place. In all honesty, I’m not sure how to get out of this hole. I don’t know what else to do other than put it out there.

This is as bare as it gets. I’m in a hole. I want out. I don’t want to go back to the story I used to tell myself. I liked the new story. For whatever reason though, I’ve lost my way yet again and the new story, well, it’s given way to the old familiar one that I’ve been reading for far longer. I know I’m eventually going to crawl right back out of this hole. I just hope you’ll have the patience to bear with me as I do.  I want to think I am worth it again.  I want to think it and I want to become it.  That's the story I want to tell myself.

It's A Boy!!!

Me and my brother Kevin (on the left) meeting our brother Jason for the first time July 21, 2013.  He was a good sport and even held this "It's a Boy" balloon for some pics!  Yeah, we're goofy like that!

I'm shifting gears a little bit tonight.  There will be plenty of time to say all the things I want to say about the road that led me to wanting a healthier me.  (And lucky you!  Less than a year of my life to go!)  For tonight though,  there is something else I really need to focus on and talk about briefly.  I confess it's a ridiculous hour, but sometimes your mind runs faster than you can keep up with. Tonight is one of those nights for me.  I'm finding it difficult to shut my mind down and drift off to sleep.

Upstairs, sleeping in my daughter's room with his lovely wife, is the brother that, until a few weeks ago, I didn't know existed.  It's really quite amazing when you think about how life can turn on a dime when you least expect it.  That's precisely what happened to me a few weeks ago.  Life turned when I least expected it.  Although wary at first, I must say, all things considered, this turn is one of the best of my life so far.

I never accept friend requests on Facebook from people I don't know.  I have a lot of pictures of my children on Facebook and I share some personal information. I keep all of my information private so it's only viewable by persons I'm friends with on Facebook.  Several weeks ago, I received a friend request from someone I didn't know.  I racked my brain trying to figure out what my connection was with this woman.  I even asked my husband if he knew who she was.  I checked to see if we had any mutual friends on Facebook.  Unable to find any other connection, I made the determination I must somehow know her because of DDP yoga.  I have a page on teamddpyoga.com and had made a few friends I had since become friends with on Facebook.  Generally speaking, if I receive a friend request from someone I don't know, i either delete the request immediately or send the person a message asking the person how I know him/her if I suspect I do and just really don't remember.  For whatever reason, I didn't send this woman a message asking how I knew her.  Instead, I accepted the friend request and planned to later send her a message.  The days somehow slipped by me and the friend request was all but forgotten.

About a week or so later, I received a message from the woman who had sent me the friend request. Her name was Britney and she had contacted me because I was from Tullahoma.  She explained although we didn't know each other and she would understand if I didn't want to help, she wondered if I might perhaps be able to assist her in locating her husband's biological father.  All she knew was my maiden name was Mason and I was from Tullahoma. She hoped, because of this, I might happen to know her son's biological father.  Nothing else in regards to that conversation is important other than to say we soon discovered her husband was my biological brother.  So, at the tender young age of 38, I discovered I had a biological brother I never knew.

As it was then, after meeting my brother today for the first time, my mind is still racing a mile a minute. I couldn't really seem to process anything she was saying then and there is still a lot to process after today. I didn't know what to think then, and I struggle to do the same now.  Truth is, regardless of whether or not I knew what to think, at that moment, I was incapable of putting logical thoughts together.  There were just so many questions and not enough answers.  There still are.

I remember speaking with my brother that night for the first time. I felt so nervous. I worried. Would he like me?  Would he want to talk to me again?  Would the shock be too much for him?  I just didn't know what to expect.  I just knew my heart was aching with sadness for everything I knew I missed.  We talked for over two hours that first night.  There was just so much to say it was hard to know where to begin.  We shared some laughter and we shared some tears.  It's always a strange feeling when you're celebrating and mourning at the same time.  The one thing I knew from that very first conversation was the fact I really wanted to know my brother even more and how blessed I felt he was the one.  After meeting him and his lovely family today, that feeling is all the more stronger.

I was tied up in knots that night before we spoke on the phone the first time.  I wasn't really sure what I would say.  It's really strange since that first call, I've found it rather easy to talk to my brother. The only other time I've had any sort of nervous feeling was waiting for him and his family to arrive today.  It was a good kind of nervous though. Butterflies. That's the best way I can describe it. Just excitement.

Our first night together was better than I could have ever hoped.  With both of my brothers in the house along with my six nieces and nephews, my mother, my husband, and my children, there was a completeness and an easiness I can't explain.  The best part of it all is today was only the first day.  There are going to be so many more laughter and love filled days ahead.  For that I am ever grateful.

I'm really thankful for DDPYoga.  Strange  as it is, were it not for the fact I had recently gotten more active on the DDPYoga pages, I never would have accepted that friend request.  I never would have learned I had a second brother.  A brother who, by the way, also lives a gluten free lifestyle and is anxious to do a DDPYoga workout with me!  Now, if only we can rope the other one in, we will really have something!  So, if you happen to see this DDP, thanks!!!  You are touching people's lives in ways you never could have imagined!!!  

Seven Is My Favorite Number Anyway

In March of 2011, my health would finally begin to make some sense to me for the first time. I had known for years something was "wrong" but no practitioner in the health care field could ever seem to quite pin it down. My mother had been after me for years with the firm belief I had some type of auto-immune disorder. I wasn't sure about her diagnosis, but I was certain I did have a lot of bad luck where my health was concerned, and I knew there was something more to it than what I was being told. I was to the point of being completely and utterly exasperated. I had grown so weary of physicians who spoke to me condescendingly and treated me like a hypochondriac who had nothing better to do than run back and forth to the doctor all day every day. I was never really what I would call a "sickly" child. I had my share of colds, viruses, etc. I probably had no more or less childhood illnesses than the average child. It wasn't as though my mother raised a wimp who would be sitting in a waiting room at the drop of a hat with a sniffle. Particularly while in college, I probably should have sought medical treatment more frequently and more quickly than I did, but I felt I didn't have time to make my health a priority until I felt like death walking. Those were the points at which I would drag my ailing self to a doctor. As I look back at my health over the last decade in particular, I feel a surge of anger if I am being perfectly honest. Why would no one put the pieces together for me? I was begging for help in every sense of the word. When I think back on every diagnosis and illness I have had, I can only wonder why it occurred to no one other than me (and good ole mom) that there must be something more going on.

By the time I referred myself to a rheumatologist and had my first rheumatology appointment in March of 2011, the laundry list of diagnoses and illnesses had grown ridiculously long. A rundown of a few of the more frequent or strange illnesses and the most persistent diagnoses I have been given could tell you the story of my last decade. Some of them are as follows:

- High Blood Pressure
- Degenerative Disc Disease*
- Bulging Disc*
- Herniated Disc*
- Pinched Nerve*
- Lumbago
- Psoriasis
- Narcolepsy
- Depression
- Chronic Fatigue Syndrome
- Proteinuria (inside and outside of pregnancy)
- Preeclampsia (during both pregnancies)
- Shingles (multiple)
- Costochondritis (multiple)
- Flu (multiple)
- Sinus Infection (multiple)
- Strep Throat (multiple)
- Bronchitis (multiple)
- Scarletina (once).

*It’s unclear to this day whether or not these four diagnoses were accurate. Although advised by multiple medical professionals on multiple occasions these were the causes of my chronic back pain, it is possible my most recent diagnosis would explain any/all of these four diagnoses. I’ve probably had some combination of these problems over the years, but they would not fully explain my chronic back pain in conjunction with other issues that have spanned over a decade. **Also, all of the above items in the list in bolded text are symptoms of my now diagnised disorder I had exhibited for years.

That’s the short list. Those are the ones I can think of right off the top of my head. There are others. Of course, there is the most recent. It’s the one diagnosis that finally seemed to make sense of so many of the issues I was having. Nothing else had ever tied things together and made it all make sense. After a physical exam, review of my medical records, and extensive testing, my rheumatologist shared what he believed I had been suffering from all that time. That diagnosis was Psoriatic Arthritis. Finally, I had a name to the face so to speak.

In the event you’ve never heard of Psoriatic Athritis or have but don’t know what it is, I’m going to provide a brief synopsis of the disorder for you. It’s a combination of information from www.webmd.com and a couple of other internet sources that provides a broad overview of the disorder along with most common symptoms. Psoriatic Arthritis is a form of arthritis that affects some people who have Psoriasis — a condition that features red patches of skin topped with silvery scales. (Or as it is in my case, a less common form of Psoriasis known as Palmoplantar Pustulosis which only occurs on the palms of the hands or the soles/sides of the feet.) Most people develop Psoriasis first and are later diagnosed with Psoriatic Arthritis, but the joint problems can sometimes begin before skin lesions appear. Joint pain, stiffness and swelling are the main symptoms of Psoriatic Arthritis. They can affect any part of your body and can range from relatively mild to severe. In both Psoriasis and Psoriatic Arthritis, disease flares may alternate with periods of remission. There is no cure for Psoriatic Arthritis so the focus is on controlling symptoms and preventing damage to joints. Without treatment, Psoriatic Arthritis can be disabling and frequently involves inflammation of the knees, ankles, and joints in the feet and hands. Joint stiffness is common and is typically worse early in the morning.

Psoriatic Arthritis can also cause inflammation of the spine (spondylitis) and the sacrum, causing pain and stiffness in the low back, buttocks, neck, and upper back. In about 50% of those with spondylitis, the genetic marker HLA-B27 can be found. Patients with Psoriatic Arthritis can also develop inflammation of the tendons (tendinitis) and around cartilage. This inflammation may lead to inflammation of a tendon at the site where it inserts into the bone. Inflammation of the tendon behind the heel causes Achilles tendinitis or Plantar Fasciitis in the soles of the feet. Inflammation of the chest wall and of the cartilage that links the ribs to the breastbone (sternum) can cause chest pain, as seen in Costochondritis. Changes to the nails, such as pitting or separation from the nail bed can also occur. There is extreme exhaustion that does not go away with adequate rest. The exhaustion may last for days or weeks without abatement. Psoriatic arthritis may remain mild, or may progress to more destructive joint disease. Periods of active disease, or flares, will typically alternate with periods of remission.

There it was. After a decade plus of feeling hopeless and lazy and wondering if I was ever going to get an answer, I finally had one. It wasn’t the best answer in the world or the one I expected, but it certainly could have been a lot worse. Just to know there was a real, legitimate reason for everything I had been going through and not some melodramatic creation in my mind, well, that was really the most important thing to me. The next question was how to treat it. I was relieved to know what my condition was, and eager to get to the “fixing it” part. That wasn’t going to come as quickly or as easily as I had hoped.

A few months into my targeted treatment, I got an unexpected phone call. I was being asked again if my husband and I could care for the boys. Their mother’s Leukemia had returned; she’d gone through a second round of brutal treatment; and she was once again fighting to stay in remission. Fortunately, it was June 1, 2011, and I was a full three months removed from my winter of discontent. I was deep into a plan with my rheumatologist to get me back on track. I felt I could handle taking the boys back in for a time while their mother was recuperating from treatment. We geared up a second time for the boys’ arrival unsure how long this “visit” would last. I remained guarded but optimistic that my condition would continue to improve and the boys’ mother could overcome the after effects of her second round of treatment and maintain the desired result.

It was a pretty crazy summer and fall. With all five children in the house again, we were definitely being kept on our toes. The summer would come and go in a flash and school was starting. Before I knew it, the holidays of 2011 were fast approaching. We had almost made it through the fall semester of school without anything too crazy happening. The boys were slated to return to their mother after the school semester ended in December. I knew I would miss them when they were gone, but admit I was looking forward to a break. I had continued struggling off and on throughout the year with the Psoriatic Arthritis as my rheumatologist continued to work on a treatment program for me. By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, I was feeling better overall than I had in a while. However, knowing that we would be less two rowdy little boys gave me a sense I would be able to rest up a little more and get a better hold of my disorder.

When the boys’ mother called me the Monday following Thanksgiving in 2011, I wasn’t prepared for the conversation we would have. There were new lab results back indicating she was no longer in remission after her third round of treatment. As she had now had chemo, radiation, and bone marrow transplants multiple times, there were no longer any treatment options. As I listened to her voice quiver while she told me she was scared, I told her I loved her. I can’t recall with all certainty what else I may have said. The conversation remains mostly a blur. I was scared for her, and we sat and we sat and cried together for a while. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how horribly it would feel to know my days were numbered and the number was so small. They’d only given her two to three more weeks to live. When she asked me if my husband and I would keep her boys and raise them, there was only one answer I could possibly give. Yes. We would keep them. Yes. We would raise them. Yes. We would do everything in the world we could to ensure they were taken care of in the best possible way we could provide. It was a daunting thought that we would soon be shifting gears yet again from readying the boys to go home to becoming permanent members of our family. At that point, the boys had been with us for the majority of the last year and a half and despite their circumstances, they were thriving. And there was also the small matter we had grown to love them. If they couldn’t be with their mother, we couldn’t imagine them being anywhere else.

There is little in life I am more grateful for than those last few weeks with Michelle. Although we didn’t get to spend an exorbitant amount of time together, she got to spend as much time with her boys as she was able. I recall one of the most emotionally draining nights of my life as I sat with Michelle and her family and we shared with the boys she would soon go to Heaven. The low sobs were almost unbearable to hear. I recall celebrating an early Christmas with Michelle and the boys. How wonderful it was they could have those last laughter and smile filled moments with her. She was able to see their new beds, new furniture, and new decorations. And I listened as she told her younger son in his new room to share nice with Annalee because she was going to be his sister. She was giving them permission to move forward into their new life. In her last few days, she was selfless enough to make sure her boys knew they needed to go on with their “new family” and she was okay with that.

When the call came that she had collapsed into unconsciousness, my heart felt so heavy. I knew it was coming but I had still kept praying for some last minute miracle that wasn’t going to come. I spent that Friday night and into the early morning hours of Christmas Eve 2011 just being there with her and her family. Her sister and I each held a hand as she took her final breath and passed from this life on to the next. And it was over. Her two-year-long battle was done. She had fought valiantly, but her poor little body finally gave out. And we cried.

There’s so much more to this story than just a few pages could ever tell. Honestly, writing a book about the events leading up to Michelle’s passing and the next eight months leading to our adoption of Tyler and Michael would be fairly easy in regards to all that was involved. There has been a lot of heartache in so many respects to what my two sons have gone through in their short little lives. None of it really matters in reference to what this blog concerns with the exception that the mental and physical stress of the situations my family was faced with during the past few years did little to improve the symptoms of my disorder.

We adopted our boys on August 6, 2012. Our family was completed on that day. I’ve no doubt in mind or heart everything I endured emotionally in several areas of my life were designed as such to prepare to mother the boys along with our three lovely daughters. I lost a lot in the couple of years leading up to our adoption, but what I gained; well, it outweighs anything I ever lost.



The Sexton Seven
August 6, 2012
Our first official family photo!
Back Row: Bryan, Kim, Annalee, Me
Front Row: Michael, Libby, Tyler

Moving forward from that day, I was simply going to have to learn to be a wife to one; a mother to five; and a working woman. Lord knows I’m still a work in progress, but December of 2012 would move me remarkably closer to where I needed to be – mentally and physically. December 2012 was when I saw a video that would inspire me to dig deep, re-evaluate my motivation for better health and start taking real steps to achieve some real, positive change in my life.