I am going to start this post with a warning. First of this one is going to be very graphic, could I stop here and just post the pretty things and the good stuff, absolutely. Would it be truthful and matter, absolutely not. So here I sit with my hands poised on the keyboard knowing that the words I am getting ready to type will hurt quite a few people, but also with the knowledge that if it helps one, my job here is complete. 

I am sorry to my sisters who are going to read this and think.. Shit we thought she was through this. To my mother who is going to read this and probably cry and feel hopeless. To my bff who is in Florida and going to try to figure out how hard he is going to shake me when he gets home. To my person who is going to cry, get mad, and call me later with a big WTH RE! To my lifting ladies I am sorry you are going to wonder why I didn't reach out. To my multiple friends and family who are going to read this and try to figure out if you should rush over or back away. To my trainer I am sorry I didn't tell you today but I was too focused. To my daddy who will hear about this at some point and not know what to do... but mainly... I am sorry to my boys, I am just sorry. You need to know that none of this is about, because of, or even remotely to do with you!

I think it is safe to say that I am doing better. I have seen the sunshine and felt the power of myself in my step and my soul over the past few weeks. I believe most people have seen this. I know I have heard from many of you via Facebook saying GREAT JOB! and many other wonderful words. I can not even begin to tell you how very much each one means to me and I do read each and every one. I can't tell you how much it means to me for you to tell me I am doing great in person, I may shy away and make up some OH yea right.. well I sucked today statement because of my insecurities but I do hear you and I know you mean it.  You actually do not know the power of those words.

A few weeks ago I told someone who is working with me to get me stronger and healthier that I had a hard time with fall and winter. That is when the darkness just sinks its ugly teeth in me and tries to drag me down. I also vowed to not stop working on my physical strength and well being this fall and winter, that when it gets nasty just show up in the gym. I am sure that I could probably call or text him and say dude.. please get there now and he would, I made that promise and I will keep it. I have seen the power of it.

Some of you know that this past week I was out of town, away from my kitchen, away from my gym, away from my bff, away from my best friend and helping her, my trainer, my lifting ladies, my kid, my dog... I was away from everything I had worked so hard to make routine over the last 7 weeks. There was nothing I could do about this, it was work related and I had to go. I wasn't ready. I kept my food under control, I worked out (both of which were firsts on a work trip because hello.. FREE FOOD) but ultimately I did not sleep well, after not sleeping well, I got sad, after I got sad, I sat in the airport and watched families and couples and could see love in the eyes of people as they held hands and discussed plans. I saw people calling people letting them know when they would be home. I overheard a father call and wish his children a good night. I watched as a family sat together on their way home from vacation sharing memories.... and all of a sudden I felt like a monster.

It all came crashing down, here I am 45 years old, fighting tooth and nail to regain some sort of physical appearance that does not resemble Jabba the Hutt, trying desperately to maintain some hold on happiness, all the while feeling like I have never been in love and probably will never have another human in love with me and that I failed at life's natural task of being a mother, I couldn't even keep my dog alive. What was my purpose .. I had failed at life.

During this meltdown I sent a message to my trainer, basically saying I didn't think I could work out the following day and lets reschedule. He came back with "Ok you can have 2 hours later than your normal slot". That wasn't what exactly I was going for but I agreed just to meet him at the normal time.  I don't know why I sent that message because the other thoughts in my head knew it didn't matter. I knew it probably was not going to happen at either time slot.

I boarded the plane, which was a rinky dink little puddle jumper and I thought ya know, there is a chance here. (here is your last warning people.. it gets bad) I wished that plane wouldn't make it out of New York. It did. I then thought well you still have a chance between here and Norfolk.. it made it. We landed everyone was safe and sound. I gathered my belongs and proceeded to the parking lot. It was dark, it was late, and then I just wished for someone to just jump out of bushes. They didn't.  I made it to my car, and that is where things got really bad. I threw everything in the car, turned up the radio, left off my seat belt and drove way too fast. I cried, I screamed, I banged on the steering wheel, I contemplated how fast I needed to be going when I hit a pole to not make it. I thought if I could make it to the bridge I would just jump because lets face it I can not swim that well, all the while coming up with my story I was going to tell the cop that was going to pull me over, and hell maybe I could just charge him and they would shoot me. I wanted to die... again.. just like that out of the blue.

I know some of you are probably angry because you feel like I am just throwing life away, for that I am sorry, but I really feel like I already threw the best of it away and now it is just waiting out the inevitable. I am sorry that I am not as strong as some of you thought.

I think the more important part is either through my weakness or some miracle I am still here to write this to you today. Some where in that massive meltdown last night, I remembered I made a promise. When it got bad I would go to the gym. It didn't make the feeling go away. It was not an easy trip home but I made it. This morning I got up and I put on my work out clothes and I waited patiently for 1130. I walked in the gym absolutely done but I kept my promise to myself. I made it there.

My work out today was a mixture of new things that were incredibly hard and things I have been doing and I now feel stronger at. When my hour was over I walked out of that door feeling so much different than just 12 short hours before. I made it through. As I sit here and I spill my soul through this keyboard I realize that as I navigate my way through the rest of my life and this incredibly grief and my own mental tangles with my failures and shortcomings,  that the new things, such as sudden onslaught of suicide tendencies, they are going to be INCREDIBLY hard, but as I continue to do them I will ultimately get stronger and stronger until I have won.

So while I know that this is so very hard for many of you to read.. if just one person is struggling and feeling like they are at the end. Just keep hanging on. Just do the next thing. Tomorrow this will be one hell of an incredibly hard thing you have done to make yourself stronger!

Make yourself a positive promise and Just Do It!

Peace and Love
Re

No one said this would be easy every day. Truth is it isn't ever going to be "easy". Each week the tasks get harder as my body gets stronger. Yesterday and this morning my brain tried to have a melt down because I didn't feel like I was performing as well as I wanted. I want my form to be perfect, I want my reps to not be broken, I want to appear, no, I want to BE strong and to BE strong I have to fight. Which means each week I have to put more on the floor. More sweat, more blood (no I haven't bled yet.. I am sure it will happen) and more tears.

I know you are thinking tears? Why would you even want to go there? I will tell you why, because this is a (insert curse word here) process! It is a journey of not only health and well being but digging out of a deep dark hole that I have found myself in. I end up examining things that got me here, in hopes to tackle them head on and not have to face them again, or if I do face them be able to defeat them in a way I wasn't before.

A horrifying truth I am facing right now is the grief. I have mentioned before that there is a clinical diagnosis for the grief I face and it is called "complicated grief disorder" throw in a dash of depression and PTSD and you have the perfect storm. The easiest way for me to describe it is think of the grief as a huge truck of dirt and when someone you love dies this entire truck of dirt is dumped on top of you and you have to pick and dig your way out and clear out all of this dirt, it takes weeks maybe months but YOU MADE IT! You are out, and for some period of time you are ok and you can function and you think everything is going... BOOM!!!! The load of dirt is dumped on you again without warning, and you have to dig again. This happens over and over. Each time the load of dirt has been dumped on me it ultimately pushed me down even farther than before. This is a obstacle I have to defeat,  I have to stop the dirt before it falls. I am a bit scared to be honest, because there is a scent in the air, a little tiny nip at times, a leaf has turned. It is almost the time of year that it seems the dirt always dumps. I don't have time to shovel out and hold on to a kettlebell. I need the dirt to just not fall, I need to see that it is falling and run out of its way. I need to rally all my support and just scream.. it is HAPPENING.. CAN YOU HELP CATCH THE DIRT! Don't let it bury me again. As I said.. it is a (insert curse word) process.

Just like with the physical aspect of my journey and having to push harder and fight more to continue to grow and get stronger, I am going to have to do the same with the demons. No life will never be perfect, I will never be perfect, but it can be better and stronger.

Love
Re

PS it was flipping HOT the last two days.. do not let that 5 degree drop fool you into "Oh lets work outside" YIKES!

Grief, it's not a competition.

It makes me beyond sad that this would even be a topic that needs a post, but apparently it does. I ran across a post today about a woman who from what I can make of it got into a verbal debate with another woman about who's grief was worse, the one who had lost a child and the one who had lost a husband. I am going to go with that most of you would say, the one who lost the child of course. This is so not true. The truth is, it is not comparable at all, and that both people are currently feeling their worse grief of their life.

Let's look at this a different way, I cut off my hand, you cut off your foot, the Doctor comes in and asks, which of you is in worse pain? The answer is neither is worse, both are equally painful and we are both in complete despair and disbelief over the lost of our limb. Are you going to sit there in that room and have an argument over who is in worse shape? I would not think so.

So my question is this, why do we do that with grief? Who are we to say that our grief and pain is worse than anothers? Yes I lost my child, my beautiful daughter, I also lost my handsome step son.  When Dustin had his accident I thought that was the worst pain imaginable, and it was! It was my worse pain at the time, then the unimaginable happened and Deanna had her accident, again my worse pain imaginable. You would think I was crazy if I had an argument with myself about how stupid I was to think that losing Little Dustin in any way could equal the additional pain of losing my Deanna,  wouldn't you? Then why do we as a society try to put the level of pain associated with grief into compartments of your pain must be worse than mine?

Would it not be much easier for everyone to just be kind and understand that when in the throws of grief that the pain is not supposed to be a competition?  A broken heart doesn't have a measurement.

Much Love
Re

That time where I waiver, where things get dicey and shaky.. the time I just give up.

I know, I know you are thinking "But you are doing so well!" Yea, kinda, it is the time that the scale always betrays me. I already know that at noon today it will because this morning my scale was up from last weeks noon weight. It is frustrating. I know I ate well. I know I exercised as much as my aching body would allow and still that number looming there is like the bully in grade school who relentless told me I was fat and was a pig.  It is the time that my brain always goes.. "what is the point in all of this struggle, look a the scale it isn't moving, you are doing all of this for nothing." The next two weeks will in fact be mentally more taxing than physically. While physically the work I am putting in is hard the mental push to make it over this hump will far out weigh any muscle soreness I have.

As many of you know, a week ago, a terrible tragedy happened, something that was so incredibly painful. The one thing that is relate-able to this post is that some how I made it through without falling into a vat of vodka or a tub of risotto. I did everything to stay on point with my exercise and food because I knew the slippery slope those feelings could send me down.  What I need to do in these next few weeks is to hold on to that strength that got me through the last 7 days and keep moving forward to a smaller, healthier me.

It's time for me to change completely, it is time to break that cycle of frustration and moon pies (PS i really don't like moon pies, they just sound like they should be good).

The bottom line is the top line, "Nothing changes until you do"

Much love
Re

The strength it takes to start over again is something that I apparently have a lot of. I have many many restarts, do overs, lets try this agains under my belt, sadly I don't think I have ever pulled out a win when it comes to my fitness, health and weight. Back in 2012 I was almost there, so very close that I could taste it. I sort of maintained awhile and then the accident happened and since then things have been very down hill. The depression would take over and I couldn't sleep, if I didn't sleep I didn't feel good, if I didn't feel good I didn't want to work out, if I didn't work out I felt guilty, if I felt guilty I felt out of control, and if I felt out of control I did the one thing that I had control over and I ate. I ate a lot. Every now and then I would see a twinkle of light and put down the fork for a dumbbell but not often enough to maintain any sort of healthy weight. I put the 40 lbs I had lost back on plus 20 more. I am currently heavier than I have ever been in my life.

I know some of you have run with weighted vests, or carrying dumbbells during bootcamp. I think the most we ever used was 30 lbs in back packs. Imagine that double. Imagine carrying two 30 pound dumbbells, one in each hand and trying to run.  Let me tell you IT HURTS. It isn't muscle pain from straining, I know what that feels like, this is pain in my joints and my legs from pounding down with too much weight. Yesterday I did 3 miles with the Sunday Runday crew and last night and this morning navigating my stairs just to get to bed and get up was stupid painful. I feel old and I am not old. I feel ashamed and I should. I chose not to go to track day today because I do have an appointment with destiny at noon today and needed to be on my A game. I don't see this as a loss or a failure just simply realizing that my body is completely out of whack and I need to be kind to it or it won't be kind to me.

What I see as a loss is my addiction to food. I am working to over come it but it is a battle. To some it may seem absolutely stupid for someone to be addicted to food, but here I sit. If you don't believe in it, lets talk because it is a very real thing. I may not be out at 3 am driving around looking for a burger dealer on the street corner or digging through the sofa looking for coins to buy one more little debbie cake, but the use of a substance to "make me feel better" is there. Sad, have a piece of cake you will feel better. Hurt, oh that hamburger will make it ok. Alone, those cookies will never leave you. Happy, LET'S CELEBRATE! WITH CHIPS! Are you seeing the pattern here? Seems absolutely stupid doesn't it? It did to me too until I recently looked deeply at what was going on with this and myself. (No I have not broken the cycle so don't ask me how it is going.. it's not yet.. I am working on it)

The bottom line it is completely about control, for days, weeks, years my life has been completely and utterly out of control and I have not been able to compartmentalize the things that were happening. Instead of realizing that the accident was out of my control and that was something that happened in my life it manifested into my life being out of control. Instead of seeing that moving back to Mathews not being good for me and that part of my life being out of control it just exasperated into more of my life as a whole being out of control. Charlie. Drake. Little Dustin. Deanna. Dustin. My job. My family. My friends. Losing my House. Jaxon. Not fitting in. Depression. On and on and on.. things we all deal with on a daily basis .. yet I had lost my ability to deal at all. Out of control. All of it. Spinning madly. Except this slice of pie. This slice of pie was mine. No one could take it away. It wouldn't die. It wouldn't be ugly to me. It wouldn't put demands on me that I couldn't meet. It wouldn't make me feel like a failure. It was mine and I was in completely control over it and how much of it I ate and how long it took me.

Without me realizing it, the food took control. I no longer had control over it. If there was cake in the house I was going to eat it until it was gone. Pasta, I would eat it until I was sick. Chips the entire bag. It took control. Now I have to fight out of this pit as well as fight to regain control of my weight and fitness.

Sitting here right now it seems discouraging and impossible, but the only thing there is to do is ...

start all over again.

I'd like to thank God, The Jesus Freaks, Good Juju senders and the Jedi Masters, without you all I would not have made it home. It has taken many prayers, thoughts and the force to get me here without a doubt.

I have been semi quiet about the move, no incredibly long posts, no blog updates, because I was still praying the entire time. "Please let this be real, don't like this be a dream, please ensure I am making the right move".. over and over and over. Until today. Today I sit here in complete and utter awe and what prayer and friends can do. Not all of my friends pray in the sense of "Dear Heavenly Father..." but their good vibes out in to the universe and well wishes for me to get home should not be overlooked either. So what am I trying to say there. Simply Thank You All!

I woke this morning tired. The move has been exhausting because lets face it I am not 20 moving two pick up truck loads anyone. I am 45 moving 45 years worth of stuff and me being me I wanted it unpacked the day BEFORE I moved it so I have busted my rear end and gotten the majority of it complete. Odds and Ends remain. So yes today the move caught up with me physically and I am straight up beat, however, I woke up in a place that my heart is happy. I woke up at home.

Yesterday I went back to bootcamp, I go again Thursday, on Monday I add in recording all I eat, weight lifting at the gym, and my monument goal of around up and down and up and down and back home daily to the mix. Yes I have a plan. Yes I am giving myself the weekend to just rest and enjoy being home. I have been on full force go go go go go since I landed my feet on sand and lets face it for months I have not been kind to myself, honestly I have been straight up terrible to me. So this weekend, I reset my batteries and my heart.

I know some of you may be concerned about how Banx and Drake are after dealing with another move.

Banx is utterly traumatized and refuses to settle down. He is completely upset that his bed and bear are in a different place.... Not. The first day he was a bit out of sorts until I realized his bed was upside down after that ... well you can see for yourself.

Drake, I would post a photo of him as well but to be honest I haven't seen him long enough to take a photo. He has done more in 4 days at the beach that he has in 3 months in VA. He has been to church twice, gone to the movies, worked two days, and last night he spent the night with his best friend he hasn't seen since Christmas.

All in all, this move has been GREAT! We all love our new home.

Much love to all!
Re

PS Very special thanks to my friend and landlord Jim for making a miracle happen. Love to Amanda for feeding us, welcoming us home, and giving me a spot to sleep that first night. Super thanks to my moving men Ed, Daddy and Drake without you I would be stuck under a sofa or something. Thankfulness goes to Sandy, Melissa, and Hayley for making me take a break from the unpacking and enjoy some time on the beach. And the biggest thanks and appreciation of all goes to Ed for making it all happen. 831

Over the last 3 years I have come to realize that the the anticipation of an anniversary, holiday, birthday is usually much worse than the actual day. Do not get me wrong it doesn't make the day hurt any less but the days leading up to them hurt much much worse.

Yesterday wasn't terrible.

It was filled with love from friends and family, texts, cards, Facebook messages, a wonderful dinner and a few hands of cards and one very special video that was randomly posted by a group of friends that I have managed to alienate over the years but who I adore as much as always. There were no tears at the sight of my De gazing on in confusion at a group of women acting quite silly. Just a smile of remembrance of a good time and how much she loved spending time with us, even when we were acting a fool. I can hear her laugh in my heart.

With each passing day she is missed more and that is a battle I feel I am going to have to fight for the remainder of my life. That leaves me here wondering whats Life even for or about? I don't know. I am not going to pretend to, but what I have to believe is there is a purpose. There is a gift in my life to share. That I will be home soon and some of edge of this hurt will ease enough to explore the what for, the what now, the how can I be a good human.

I think part of the fear of being yet another year older is I am running out of time. At 45 I wonder, will I always be fat? How many more years are left to lose this weight? How much longer will I even be able to run? At 45 I wonder, will I make a difference in the world? Is there time left to be something special? Is there time to be a gift?

My life is consumed completely and totally in getting back to the beach and trying to make it to the end of each day through this sadness. I feel like it is all just slipping by and until I get back on my ground I can't seem to stop it. At night I wonder sometimes, was that the last day? What will they say I accomplished? Will they remember anything I have done? Did I leave a legacy? 

My birthday wish... Please don't let it be too late.

Much Love,
Re