Coming to terms with “Lifetime”…

6 04 2011 years.

14, 600 days.

350, 400 hours.

That’s how long I refused to stand up and take control.

The reason I put these numbers out here is for a perspective of how I’ve been feeling the last week. I’ve been really sick. So sick, it’s caused me to take a break from the gym, from running, from doing anything that would cause me to break a sweat. This has caused major havoc on my emotional state of well being. It’s been difficult for me to be nice to myself. It’s been difficult for me to not have moments of panic that I will wake up some morning having gained all my weight back. You can tell me all you want how illogical this thinking is (because I already know that) but it still happens.

I’ve found myself fighting the urge to binge. I’ve found myself crying in the middle of the library because I missed a friend so much I couldn’t get my shit together. I cried in the car while eating two Luna bars because I wished they would magically turn into a greasy McDonald’s super sized meal with a side of Jack in the Box. I thought about pushing down a little kid when her mom picked her up to soothe her, so that I could stand there with my arms open with snot running down my face and say “mommy, pick me up instead”…

I’ve been sick for week and I’ve not been very nice to myself.

I’ve put myself down.

I’ve thought mean things.

I’ve allowed myself to say and do things that I wouldn’t allow someone else to do to themselves. I’ve convinced myself that in the course of a week, I’m going to ruin all the hard work I’ve been doing. I’ve convinced myself that I shouldn’t eat because I won’t be able to offset the calories by going to gym. For the last 7 days (168 hours) I took myself down to a deep and dark place.

This isn’t about what happened during the last 168 hours.

This is about understanding that this journey is a LIFETIME. Some days there will be awesomeness. Some days there will be sickness. Taking a week off from the gym makes me neither lazy nor weak (no matter how strong that EFT voice is). Taking a week off makes me in tuned to what my body needs even if it’s not what my body wants. The emotions that I’m feeling are real but they are also carrying around the sickness that I’ve physically carried in my body for the last week.

As the clouds of sickness begin to break up even just the littlest of bits I can see with clarity that the way I feel about myself is based purely on being sick. To take care of myself is just as deserved as running miles / beating down the boxing bag or making good food choices. Sleeping for 12 – 14 hours a day is not a sign of being lazy, it’s a sign of being sick. Having a desire to eat what I consider comfort foods (mashed potatoes and creamy soups) is not because I don’t have the will power to make good food choices, it’s because I’m sick. Taking a week off to trade in my work out clothes for pajamas and fluffy socks is not because I’m giving up, it’s because I’m sick.

In the grand scheme of things 7 days is a blink in my lifetime.

This is for the rest of my life. This journey. All the good with the bad. All the healthy movements with the stay in bed days. All the good food choices with all the comfort food choices. All the bright eyed and bushy tailed days with all the days that I just can’t stop crying. All the good feelings about myself with all the not so good feelings about myself. This week has been hard on my emotions. This week has been hard on my physical being. This week has just been plain hard.

Next week better watch out cause I’m gonna kick its ass!




Full of emotions…

17 03 2010

There is a lot going on with me today.

Good and bad.

First the bad because I truly believe in leaving any situation in an upbeat status whenever possible and who wants to read a blog that ends on some sad depressing note when there is also good stuff to share.

I had my therapy appointment today. We talked mostly about my brother Kerry. I have three older brothers…well actually two now since the oldest of the three passed away a few years ago (cancer). My brother Kerry is the youngest of the three and six years older than me. He is an alcoholic in the truest form. He’s in denial over how bad things are for him. He lived with me for a short period of time last year (7 months) after separating from his wife of 17 years and during those short months I learned a lot about my brother. None of which is good. I eventually asked him to leave because he couldn’t get his drinking under control and it was taking a toll on my marriage, my emotional well being and just all around sucked.

The reason for the therapy discussion about him today is because he really hurt my feelings a few weeks ago after telling his ex-wife (who then passed the message on to me) that if I wanted to get in touch with him, I would need to call him because he deleted my phone number out of his phone. This may not seem like a big deal to you but to me it was one of the meanest things he could have said..there is some more background to why this was hurtful so just trust me when I say he’s a total ass for saying that.

Now there is a dilemma.

To call.

Or not to call.

After much thought I’ve decided to not call and see how he’s doing. I offered my help once and he pretty much pissed that away. He thinks he’s the only one that’s ever suffered in this life we lead. He forgets that I completely understand what it’s like to be addicted to something that controls every aspect of your life. He thinks he’s the only one that’s experience loss of family and friends (I guess he forgets that we shared the same mom, grandmother and brother). He refuses to seek medical attention for depression (which is genetic in our family) and as of today refuses to seek help for his alcoholism.  He thinks he’s the only one that has ever suffered through a failed marriage (he must forget sitting in the front row of my first wedding). He leads a sad life and after leaving my therapist today, I’ve come to the conclusion that I just can’t be a part of that any longer.

He’s running out of time to get it together…longevity does not run in our family when one is afflicted with alcoholism/drug addiction. My mother died when she was 52, my brother John was only 50…My brother Kerry is on the fast track to joining them. I see beyond those numbers and see a life worth living.

I wish he could do the same.

I’m also emotionally spent after officially signing up for my first 5k (missed the post? Go here). I think when it takes more than 3 hours to work up the courage to hit the register button, one must concur that there are many underlying issues going on. The main “issue” is having to resolve myself to knowing I won’t be the best. Now before you rush to leave me a “you’re only running against yourself” comment, trust me I know this already (The mature/rational adult Tara know this). Like I said, there are so many layers upon layers of issues.

But that is why this portion of my post is the good news.

I’m actually looking forward figuring all this stuff out. Working through the “I’m not good enough“(s) and the “you’ll never amount to anything“(s). Not to mention the “you’re fat and will always be fat“(s) and the “what’s the point of trying, since you’re going to fail“(s)

I’m looking forward to starting the process of stopping that damn tape recorder in my head of my mother’s voice, telling me that unless I’m the best then I’m worthless.

This is going to be an exciting time for me over the course of the next 3 months. When I cross that finish line on June 12th, I’ll be crossing so much more. Progress…slow and steady.

I ran w7d2 of c25k this morning. I got up an hour earlier than usual as I’m trying to retrain my body to get up at a different hour than normal. Work schedule is changing so getting up at 5 is going to be more feasible to continue running that my usual 7. It was dark outside when I ran so that was a first. I think I should have had some sort of reflector on since I was in dark running pants, dark hoodie and dark baseball cap. The only reflection was my shiny sauconies. It wasn’t as hard as Monday’s run since I ran the exact same course and was able to anticipate the end of 25 minutes. I pushed myself real hard the last minute and came out 1 block farther than I did on Monday.

I’m looking forward to finishing out c25k over the next two weeks. I’m planning on going on with another program that takes you from 5k to 8k just to get my duration running up. I’ll also be tackling some major hills in the area to get my elevation stamina up. Next weekend I’ll walk the 5k route of Sound to Narrows to become familiar with the layout. Once a week starting in April I’ll attempt to run what I can of it until I’ve run the entire route. I expect this to happen much sooner than the June 12th deadline to the actual 5k.

Progress…slow and steady!