Living in another reality…

29 03 2011

I used to be a death knight…

Five years I played World of Warcraft.

Five years I sank into a chair for hours and hours each day creating a reality that was so far away from what my real life represented. It was WHERE I wanted to be because there I could create a character that represented WHO I wanted to be.




Killing demons and saving lives

I played day in and day out. I would get up hours before it was time for me to go to work and play until the very last minute before I had to leave the house (sometimes no shower included). I would wake up on a Saturday and for 8 – 10 hours I would sit in the same place and create a world in which I felt better about myself inside a stupid laptop than I ever did in my actual environment.

I SANK into the chair, but even worse I GREW into the chair.


Today I sit in that same chair and take up half the space that I used to. I remember the days of sitting for so long the sides of my hips became sore from pressing into the arms of the chair. It never dawned on me that maybe…just maybe something was wrong with the amount of time I was spending building my death knight into the perfect version of me.

I was safe from the demons of my real life because I was wielding a big sword, wearing a plate of armor and killing the demons of another reality. I know it sounds hokey but if you’ve ever been addicted to video games, this all makes perfect sense to you. It made perfect sense to me. Why spend time out here in my real world, looking around at what life had to offer me (at that time it was sadness, distrust and a overwhelming feeling of failure) when I could spend it playing a game that over time became everything that I was…

It’s scary out here.

Sometimes people hurt your feelings and they mean too. Sometimes people hurt your feelings and they don’t mean too. Sometimes you fail at what you’re trying to do. Sometimes you make one bad choice which leads to two…three….and then you feel out of control. Sometimes you get so overwhelmed by the emotions inside your body you can’t seem to catch your breath. Sometimes you trip and fall and the hardest thing to do is to get back up. Sometimes you look in the mirror and want to pound so hard against what is looking back at you, it breaks into a million pieces and finally you feel what your heart is feeling…broken.

It’s hard to be broken.

It’s hard to not run away.

It’s hard to not want to sink back into that chair.

When I stopped playing that game, I had to stay here in my real world. I had to sit with all the pain of feeling like a failure and now on top of that looking back and realizing what a waste my life had been for the previous 1825 days. I had to live with being broken and find the courage to not run back to what was safe but to stand with my feet firmly planted…

I had to kill some demons.

I learned to pick up those millions of pieces of my heart and slowly mend it back together. I had to learn to forgive those that I felt hurt me in the past and more importantly learn to forgive myself. I had to open my heart, mind and spirit and trust that the world actually isn’t out to get me. I had to get out of that chair and move and save my life because living in a world as a death knight was not living…in fact it was dying.

It hasn’t been an easy road by any means.  I was scared. I was distrustful. I was angry. I was morbidly obese. I lacked the self confidence it took to look people in the eyes when they spoke to me. I didn’t believe in myself. I didn’t believe in the world around me. But sinking into a chair and living in another reality wasn’t what was going to fix what was broken. Living in my reality, in the moment, taking all of everything, loving myself, knowing it would be worth it and more importantly that I deserved this is; that’s what fixed it.

Guess what I discovered finally fixing what I felt was broken out here

instead of hiding in a level 80 death knight?

I am:





(Funny how that happens)




Dizzy Daze recap (but so much more)…

27 03 2011

I’ve run a lot of races since I began running back in February. My first “running” race was 10 months ago and since then I’ve crossed more than a dozen finish lines. This time there was no fancy inflatable start line. There was no fancy timing chip attached to my shoes. There weren’t hundreds/thousands of people stretching and sprinting to warm up…

There was a chalk line.

8 of us.

And a clipboard.

Some people had already started running before I even pulled into the parking lot at 5:30a. I guess when you’re going to get up and run 100k (62.1 miles) you want to start as early as possible. I see my friend Kristin pull up and we hang out for a bit before it’s time to take off. No fancy count down. Just a guy with a timer. It’s probably one of the most relaxed group of people I’ve ever been around before a race. They know each other (my guess is that when you’re an ultra runner, your group is pretty small so there is plenty of opportunity to get to know each other on a more personal level – lucky!)

Because I’m running the half marathon (4 times around Green Lake) I pull out in front fairly quickly because my pace is faster than those awesome runners going around Green Lake 19 times! It’s dark. I can’t take in the beauty to my left that is Green Lake for another 30 – 40 minutes so it’s just me and my iPod.

My last official half marathon was the Seattle Marathon back in November. It had 17,000 runners. I was constantly surrounded by people. There was a lot of action happening at all times. People on the sidelines to look at, signs to read. I even had my own sign:

This time there was no sign on my back. There weren’t thousands of people lining the streets. The first time around the lake there was no one there to give me any encouragement. Just the same guy with the clipboard as I yelled out my number so he could hand write my time. I wanted to finish in 2 hours. The course was flat and I just focused on running strong and running consistent.

I thought I was there to run…

I was there to heal as well.

On my third time around the lake I was making good time but getting tired. I normally do a 9 min run / 1 min walk routine but lately I’ve been trying to run a little longer before walking for a minute. This time I walked at mile 4, mile 7, mile 9, and mile 11. It was during that minute walk on the 7 mile mark that I began to doubt whether I would make it in the 2 hour time I’d set out as a goal. I won’t lie to you: I’m still thinking about what transpired Saturday and that little voice was ready as soon as I began to doubt myself.

“you won’t do it”

“you’re running too slow”

It was about this time something horrific happened: My headphones on my iPod petered out. Yep, my music stopped at I still had 6 miles to run. I began to get really mad. I’m trying to run and figure out what the hell happened with my music. My mind is telling me I won’t make it anywhere near the time I wanted and my mile times are getting a little slower…

Then something magical happened.

Through all this chaos, another voice interrupted my thought process. Many of you know I’ve returned to my relationship with GOD and I don’t blog about it much because a) it’s personal b) not everyone wants to read about it c) I’m still figuring out what all this means. Was the interruption from GOD? I believe yes. I’ve become very comfortable with the idea that I am being given messages and it’s important to be open to receiving those messages with an open heart. As I’m trying to get my iPod to work and trying to remember to keep my feet moving and not trip I hear this:

“you don’t need music”

“look up and see what’s in front of you”

“talk with me”

I look up and right in front of me is the most amazing pink sky as the sun is coming up. I take out my headphones and a beautiful cacophony of singing birds pierce my ears. I’d been so focused on what was right in front of me and looking for a reason to be upset with myself that I’d forgotten that there was so much around me to take in. I breath in deeply and take in the cold air and clear my mind to listen to whatever messages are coming into my heart.

I begin to think about starting the race in the dark and now running as the sun is coming up. It is the epitome of what my life was and is like. I lived in darkness for so long I’d forgotten that there was anything else to life. I’d stopped caring about myself. I stopped loving myself. I stopped living and that was seeping out to every aspect of my life. Over the past fifteen months I’ve slowly allowed the sun to rise on my heart, on my spirit, my soul and my body. I can’t help but start to cry as I’m running because at that exact moment, in that split second my heart exploded with love. Love for me. Love for the person who sent the words that I took in as hurtful even if that wasn’t the intention. Love for all of you that read this blog and send me daily love in return. Love for my husband who has stood by me every day for the last 9+ years. Love for anyone and everything that has been a part of my journey…

A part of my rising sun.

The tears stop flowing. I begin to have a conversation with GOD. Thankful for all that is in front me at the moment. Thankful for all that is behind me. Thankful for all that is coming to me because I am no longer afraid to move. I come to accept that whether or not I finish in 2 hours is not the point to this race anymore.

Everything that has just transpired was the reason for the race.

I clear my heart and mind and just run.


And of course I end this post without another magical moment of life changing proportions. I ended my race and returned to my car to find my phone had been blown up by all the tweets and messages sent to me while I was out growing my heart and earning another 13.1 finish. There was one particular comment I’d gotten from Jules over at Big Girl Bombshell and I can’t make this up: It was the first thing I read when I got back to my car…

If people say something about you… Judge you as if they know you. DON’T GET AFFECTED! JUST THINK: dogs don’t bark if they know the person…AND THAT goes both ways… Being part of this community..we have our friends..we have our support networks..AND we can be left on the outside ALOT! But all in all, especially in a journey for our “chip” we take WHAT we need and we LEAVE the rest….

AND as for YOU Tara…… my #fgm thought…. Perhaps the tweet came to you as a gift….often when we put a MAJOR change or struggle out there to deal with this once and for all… GOD responds in a manner that we might not understand! AND you went with it… I would BET that you have the most profound race ever today…. xoxo

Yes, yes I did.






You Choose…

25 03 2011

I am not in a good place right now. I don’t even know where to begin so I’m just going to let my fingers click across this keyboard and see where I end up. I want to quit the #100daychipquest challenge. I’m really mad at myself and I feel stupid for letting someone I don’t even know get to the very core of my emotions but that is exactly what has happened. One of my goals for the next 100 days was to consciously throw away food because I am in a continual state of panic. I know I don’t need to explain what that mean again especially if you’ve been reading this blog for a while. I’m on day three and up to earlier today all was going well. I was consciously deciding to let food go and sit with the panic that was resonating inside of me. I cried, I prayed, I let my emotions run amok in my body but not once did I resort to over eating or throwing food away only to grab more to soothe the emotions I was feeling. I was taking pictures and posting them on twitter to prove in fact that I was throwing away food and sticking to my goal. It helped me. It was keeping me accountable. If I was taking a picture and posting it I wouldn’t be able to sneak in one last bite. You wouldn’t know but I would know and I was in this to be successful not hide and lie about what I was doing.

Today after posting a picture I had the following conversation with someone via twitter

Them – “not to be rude, but you throw a lot of food away…Very wasteful

Me – “I can’t tell if you’re being serious so I’ll just pose this question: do you know why I’m throwing it away?

Them – “yes I know, but isn’t there any less wasteful solution? If I’m missing something please explain

Me – “No actually, I don’t need to explain. Your definition of wasteful and my definition of saving my life are different and that’s okay”

Them – “You can save you life by making less food or ordering kids meals if you know half of your plate is going to the garbage

Me – “Its okay to disagree with what I’m doing. If I was interested in other alternatives I would ask. You think you understand but you don’t and that’s okay too”

Them – “As I said in my 1st tweet I don’t mean to be rude. Just wanted to let you know it breaks my heart to see all that waste

Me – “Funny because it breaks my heart that I’ve never been able to eat without panic and I’m finally trying to change that”

This person has no idea what it’s like to live in my body, my mind, and my emotional state of disarray. I thought long and hard about taking the steps to let food go and to not go chasing after it once it’s left my sight. Why the fuck do I want to order off the fucking kids menu?!? I’m a grown fucking woman thank you very much. I’m so pissed right now I just can’t even get my thoughts together. I feel stupid for thinking this was a good idea. For thinking maybe just maybe I could get this under control and 100 days from now I’d be able to eat something calmly and without fear. I’m so mad with myself. A person I don’t even know has caused me to become that small kid sitting at the dinner table, tummy bloated, because my mother didn’t know how to portion control and forcing me to eat everything or a) sit at the table until it was gone or b) have it for breakfast the next morning…

Do you know how shitty cold liver tastes in the morning?

Or how lonely it can be sitting at the table for hours?

Your opinions are yours. You are entitled to them. But don’t use negative words like wasteful and breaks your heart…want to know what’s wasteful? The farms in the midwest only growing corn to feed the mass production of cows that feed the mass production of obesity in the United States. That’s fucking wasteful. You want to know what breaks my heart? For once I would like to sit down to a meal and fully enjoy it. To taste the textures and the warmth of my food. To stop for a moment and think about how a particular food is taking me back to a time of clarity and love. To put my fork down and know without certainty that I am in control and there is no need to panic anymore because my world is safe…

Instead I eat without taste. I eat without enjoyment. I’m usually thinking about whether or not the person sitting with me is going to leave food on their plate and how in the world can they do that and even more fucked up will they let me eat it? I’m thinking about what life would have been like if for just one fucking second my mother gave a crap about what she was doing when raising a sweet little girl with so much wasted potential…

It’s the night before my race and I should be full of excitement.

Instead I’m angry and deflated. I don’t want someone I don’t even know to have this kind of power over me. Its easy to say “just let it go Tara” but I can’t. Its so fucking frustrating. I feel like I don’t deserve to inspire people. I feel like I don’t have a right to care about what other people are doing to take back their lives because in my own life I’m wasteful. I’m stupid. I’m careless. Thoughtless. Without feeling towards others. Logical Tara knows this is not rational thinking but logical Tara can go jump off a fucking cliff right now. This is emotional Tara writing this blog. Watch your words. Keep opinions to yourself. You have no idea what is going on in my head and how I got to where I am today. I’ve fought tooth and nail to lose this weight and gain this life. It would be wasteful and heartbreaking to let you get to me…

But you did.

It’s pie time…

24 03 2011


When Geneen Roth (Woman Food and GOD) was 11 years old, she stopped believing in GOD. She found comfort instead in Hostess Sno Balls. You know the fluffy pink balls of delicious goodness we ate as children (and probably many of us still eat as adults).

By the time I was 11, I didn’t believe in God either.  I tried to. I can’t remember exactly how old I was (probably the summer my brother Kevin left) but as soon as I heard there was something called Vacation Bible School, I was all over that shit. It was only a week but for many summers I went not really sure what was supposed to happen but loved the idea that adults were happy to see me  and the little snacks they gave us on the way home were an added bonus. Nothing magical happened. I stopped going.

By the time I was 11 I also didn’t believe in my mother. I spent too many hours (days, weeks, months, years) wondering when she was going to come home, and  I spent just as many hours (days, weeks, months, years) sitting at a restaurant table alone while she drank in the bar. As a young child ( 7 or 8 ) I remember my mom owning her own bar (talk about enabling your addiction) and every night she would come home around midnight and fall asleep in an alcoholic stupor. In the morning when I got up to get myself ready for school there was a bank bag just inside our front door. Some one would close the bar down, cash out the till and bring the bank bag to the house for my mom to deposit the money. You see where I’m going with this right? A young child with no parental supervision discovers that a bag full of money “magically” appears every day…

I learned to steal.

Where did I find my comfort when the adults in my life failed miserably? Cans of Pie Filling. Every morning I would take a $20.00 bill from the bank bag and stuff it as far down into my jeans pocket as possible. There is would be a beacon to me as I sat through elementary school. As soon as last bell rang and school was out I was going to do what I did almost every day: walk to my neighborhood convenient store and buy either Cherry or Blueberry Pie Filling, and then sit in the safe haven of my room and eat it. Don’t ask me why I choose pie filling. I’m sure if I were to delve deeper it would have something to do with remembering a somewhat happier time (around age 4) when my brothers would pick the cherries off of our trees and my mother would spend hours canning them. Summer time. Back door wide open. Breeze coming through. Standing in the kitchen watching her and loving her as much as any confused kid could love their mom.

Those days were long gone by the time I started stealing.

I didn’t believe in anything.

Except pie filling.

There was something so comforting about waking up in the morning, stealing money from my mom and then coming home to an empty house with a can of pie filling. Opening it up with a can opener (and when that broke, a knife) and smelling the sugary sweetness as it filled my nostrils and brought a sense of calm to my anxious little body. I remember the metallic taste on my fingers as I used them to scrape the inside edges hoping to get every last drop of that gooey syrup. In each can I found love, attention, maybe even a little hope…

Eventually the bank bag stopped showing up. My mother lost her bar (for the better? who truly knows?) and the $20.00 daily beacon of comfort was replaced by government cheese and food stamps. I still stole money when I could. It wasn’t as easy as having a bank bag practically dropped into your lap every morning but it wasn’t too hard when your alcoholic mother can’t keep track of important things like her purse. The cans of pie filling were replaced by things larger in quantity. Penny candy and lots of it (yes, when I was a kid there was still such a thing as $.01 candy) or bags of marshmallows that I would then “roast” over a candle flame in my room (some parental supervision would have been especially helpful at this point).

As a child I never found comfort in any adult in my life. The comfort came in the form of what I could put in my mouth. When there was a question in my little mind that there not might not be enough food (since bank bags can magically appear / disappear surely so can blocks of government cheese) panic began to settle in. All my life I’ve been afraid there will not be enough food to comfort my sad existence. Even as an adult, where I make my own money and have never been without I am afraid food will not be available to me. You can walk me into a food store and tell me that for the rest of my life I can have whatever I want, when ever I want and I still think it’s going to all disappear one day.

There is no real point to this blog tonight.

There won’t be a catchy last phrase that I’ve come to use as my signature closing. There won’t be any words of wisdom about how you should stand up and take control (though you should). This is just a story about me and why I function the way I do. Getting a better understanding on how my brain is wired so that when I get up in the morning I am that much more prepared to fight another battle.

In case you’re wondering: I can’t stand the sight of canned pie filling.

You can’t blame me can you?



Beginning anew…

22 03 2011

So I have this friend. You’ve heard me mention him before. He’s the brainchild behind the hashtags #7daychip #30daychip and even the #100daychip. It’s been quite the feat to earn the three #7daychip(s) and I’ve yet to make it to the #30daychip mark (though as of today I am on day number 20 and I am more than tickled pink to have gotten this far).

However, just the other day Brad put out a little challenge (and if you know me you know I love a good challenge) of stepping up to the starting line and instead of focusing on getting to the seven day mark and then working towards the thirty day mark, why not just set your sights high and embark on the illustrious ONE HUNDRED DAY CHIP…


Yhea, why not?

So I’m tossing my 20 days aside and stepping back up to the starting line. But here’s the kicker: I’m adding some new goals. My main goals for this last trip towards my first 30 day chip were to combat the negative thoughts that commonly run through my head, to thank my food and to eat mindfully. These are all great goals to have and the last twenty days have shown me that I am capable of doing them all. Now it’s time to kick it up a notch…

My #100daychip goals

1. Consciously throw some food away at each meal

2. No eating out of pans/dishes before/during a meal

3. Take time to pray everyday.

4. NO COFFEE! (64 oz of water everyday)

Let me break each of them down for you (and really for me).

1) Every time I eat a meal or snack on something I am going to allow food to be taken away from me (like at a restaurant) or consciously throw food away. I don’t care if it’s just one bite it will be thrown away. I need to understand that eating out of panic isn’t going to solve my problems. Sitting with the panic and knowing after a few (hundred) times that the world hasn’t ended and food is still available to me is what is going to solve the problem.

2) I eat out of pans/dishes even when my plate is full of food. This is unacceptable. Wait, let me rephrase that: it is acceptable for other people. However, I do it for all the wrong reasons. I fill my plate with food and then I return to the kitchen (“hey I’m gonna get a drink of water”) knowing full well I’m going to eat out of the pans/dishes. I’m panicking. What if someone else comes in and puts more food on their plate, then there won’t be any left for me so let me just solve that by stuffing my face with as much food as possible before returning to my plate….You see how this is unacceptable right? I’m not eating out of them to taste something (needs more spice yadda yadda yadda), I’m doing it purely out of panic and purely without being mindful. I’ve usually eaten enough food before I actually dig into what’s on my plate that I’m sort of full but then I “clean my plate” because…well you know “What if”…

3) I’m gonna start praying everyday. Probably don’t need to explain that one. Quiet time between me and GOD has been super helpful and comforting so why not make it a habit.

4) Yep, I went there. NO COFFEE! Don’t ask me why. It just feels right. My coffee consumption has been getting a little out of control. When I drink coffee I don’t drink water. This is not cool. It’s kind of like lent but instead of for baby jesus, it’s purely for me. Tea is fine (I’m not that crazy people!)

So there you have it. My goals for the #100daychipquest. I officially start tomorrow (March 22nd) and will cross that finish line with those of us that are banding together. Maybe you should think about what you want to change over the course of the next 100 days….

We’ll be right there with you!

Food issues, I have them…

20 03 2011 I don’t talk much about my relationship with food. It’s personal, extremely private and it is riddled with so many dysfunctional aspects to it I could fill a few encyclopedia size books with how my life interacts with the food I consume.

I recently started reading Geneen Roth’s “Women Food and GOD” and while I can’t claim it’s been absolutely life saving, it has done some pretty amazing things in opening up my mind (and heart) examining how my relationship with food is an exact replica of the way I look at life.

I want to do a full review of this book but I’ve found that I’m only able to take in a couple of pages at a time. I will read something and then need a few days to digest a particular paragraph/idea. I originally got the book from the library and about 1/2 way through had to purchase it so that I could start to dog ear / mark / high light things that were true for me (read: the entire book). I’ve restarted to book so that I could go at a slower pace instead of worrying about being charged the daily late fee of $.10 from my local library because I’m pretty sure I never would have gotten the book back in time.

Bottom line: I have some serious issues.

I’ve known this since I could remember thinking “the way I eat isn’t normal”. I’ve known this since I started using Bulimia as a way of feeling in control of my food. I’ve known this for most of my life. The difference is that while I know I have some serious issues I am also willing to take these issues apart and rebuild them into something more functioning, more healthy and more life sustaining. My weight loss journey would only be successful for the short term if I was willing to spend a few hours in the gym each day and live by a calorie in = calorie out kind of mentality but I’m not in this for the short term.

I’m in this for a life time.

So why am I blathering on about all of this? You’re probably asking yourself “where’s the examination?” “when is she going to let us in on the secrets?” Truth is I’m beating around the bush. I sat down to blog about some of the reasons why I panic over my food and how that in turns plays out in how I panic about my life but I’m so full of angst at the moment that I’m not even sure I could begin to blog about it.

In fact I know I can’t.

But here is what I can tell you. I do panic over my food. I panic there won’t be enough. I panic that I will wake up some day and I won’t have access to any food. I panic that someone is going to eat my food and leave me with nothing. I panic that I won’t eat enough and when I go back for more it will be gone. I’ve been this way as long as I can remember. Truth be told; it’s the only way I remember thinking about food. Did it start because I had three older brothers that ate much more than me and learned at an early age to grab and eat what I could before they ate it all? Did it start because as a child I resorted to stealing money in order to buy food because I wasn’t sure if my mom would come home at night? Did it start because every relationship I had as a child was neither consistent nor healthy and it manifested in how I looked at my food (neither consistent and far from healthy)? Are there a million other factors to the panic?


Panic over food = panic over life.

My life is in a constant state of panic. There won’t be enough work. There won’t be enough money. I have to check my banking account multiple times a day to make sure there is still money in there. I can never be good enough. I can never do enough. I can never make anyone happy enough. I can’t sit for long periods of time without feeling like I’m failing at something (relaxation does not come without a lot of conscious effort). I usually do more in the first hour I’m awake than most people do in an entire day but when I lay my head on the pillow at night, it’s never enough.

So that’s where I am with this book. Not too far into it and needing to start over to digest it a little more. Reading it a little slower and a little more open minded. I think once I’m done blogging a little more about it I’m going to do an official giveaway of the book.

I promise to let you in on the little secrets.

Just as soon as I let myself in on them.

Oh and I’ll tell you the story about cans of pie filling.

Yes I said pie filling.


Going back old school style…

19 03 2011

Today I’m going to run 12 miles.

This time last year I was barely running 2 miles and I have the old posts to prove it.

Thank your body for all the hard work it does.

It loves you.

And so do I.


(I wrote this March 16th 2010)

I think I found my first 5k.

But just writing the title is freaking me out.

I need to figure out why I’m so scared to register.

No let me rephrase that, I need to figure out why I’m so afraid to fail.

I’ve only looked at the web page for the run and already I’m ready to be in tears.

— Even just now I had to get up from the computer and walk around my office just because I was getting all angst. —

I need to relax.

Here are the reasons I picked this particular 5k:

  1. June 12 is just a little under 3 months away. I will finish the c25k by the end of this month. I will be at the 30 minute mark and thus giving myself 2 1/2 months to improve improve improve.
  2. It’s very close to my home.  Once I reach the 30 minute mark I can use the 5k path as a bench mark to see how I’m progressing. This will also give me plenty of time to get used to the course so that I will know full in advance what to expect.
  3. It’s in one of my all time favorite places in Tacoma. A big park…hello!
  4. There is a planned Diaper Dash (20 yards for little ones 3 and under)…okay who couldn’t resist seeing little baby legs dashing around in diapers?
  5. 2 months from now will give me a lot of time to really focus on building stamina and continue to lose weight. If I continue on this track I should be down at least another 15 pounds before the race…pretty damn close to 220. By registering now this will give me 3 months of something to look forward too, and keep my determination up (thanks SRG).
  6. It’s a big race so the likelihood that there will be other noob runners is pretty high.
  7. There is also a 12k race so all the big boys/girls will be over there and not over here where I am (crossing fingers).

I need to do something that scares me today and this is definitely something that frightens the bejeebees out of me.

I am afraid of failing.  By not signing up I ensure myself that I can never face that fear. I want to do it. I want to give myself the opportunity to experience whatever is supposed to happen. I want to work towards something and know I don’t have to be the best out of everyone.

Long story short – my mother did a very bad thing as a parental figure. Now before I continue let me also state that I’m sure she did the best she could with the tools that were provided to her (not many that’s for sure). She died many years ago so I can’t go back and ask why she said the things she said. I just have to trust that she thought she was making good choices/decisions when raising me and my 3 older brothers. As a child she would berate me to never become like my brothers. In her eyes they all failed her…

The truth is she failed us.

And in that failure she convinced me that if I wasn’t the best at absolutely everything, I was destined to become what she couldn’t handle: Another horrible child.

I never did what I wanted as a child. I wanted to play sports, I wanted to sing in choir, I wanted to join the swim team, I wanted to join theater. So many things I wanted to do but never ventured out because I was afraid to fail.

I have carried around that fear with me like a backpack full of rocks. Every time I want to try something, I mentally put a boulder in that backpack making it too heavy to carry.

Today, I’m going to take out a boulder…

















I have officially entered my first 5k!

I need a nap now.

(in case you’re wondering – it took me 3 hours to write this post)