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!

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!

 

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.