The last #facetofacefriday of the year and I am looking at how far I’ve come.
95 pounds down in 1 year. 95 pounds!!!
Starting weight -356 pounds
Current weight – 261 pounds
Sleeved – 9/26/2016
2016 has been quite a journey for me. Earth shattering lows that I thought I couldn’t possibly survive brought me more strength than I could ever imagine. This year has been a year of self discovery, change and learning how important #selflove really is. I have learned how important it is to look inside yourself and find your #innerstrength . I have found out how important it is to have a strong support system and surround yourself with the people that really care. As much as 2016 hurt it has made me that much more empowered. I am a #strongwoman a #proud #singlemom and looking forward to taking on 2017.
Here’s to next year. A more fabulous me than I already am. Here’s to working hard, living life and sparkle thoughts. I can do it and so can you!
#motivation #lifegoals #verticalsleevegastrectomy #vsgcommunity #vsg #sleevelife
Insurance approval!!! Surgery SCHEDULED!!!!
Good morning! So here’s the scoop-
18 days till surgery (yes I will be counting, it could become very annoying. Sorrynotsorry ahead of time)
7 days left to eat all the food! What I mean by that is, I have 7 days before I go on a very strict liquid only pre-op diet. After surgery, not only will I not be able to eat regularly for a while but my body won’t be able to handle certain foods. So in the next 7 days there are certain things I want to enjoy for maybe the last time. I’m not going crazy bingey, but there are some things i want. EVERYONE who can and wants to is welcome to help me on this endeavor.
People keep asking me how I’m feeling, the answer is…I’m feeling all the emotions at once. I’m excited and scared and anxious and happy and all these things keep going through my head. I am lucky to have ya’ll in my life supporting me as I take this journey. Thank you so much ❤
(longer post to come, I’m still too giddy to type)
This is something that is incredibly important to me. So I cross posted it onto this blog from my bariatric blog. I hope it sheds some light on how my mind works and maybe helps you a little too.
I know, I know I broke a promise. Not only to you my loyal readers but to myself. I promised that I would hold myself accountable everyday. I promised I would update you in my journey, not only for you but for me too. To see where I was, how far I have come and what I’m running towards. Tonight I don’t come here with excuses or justifications, though I thought up a whole batch of them before I typed this out. I came here with the truth. The reason why there have been far fewer updates than I promised, no pictures and less content than I wanted all boils down to one word….Fear.
That’s right, I’m afraid. I sit behind my computer screen or on my phone everyday, just after I weigh myself and watch the cursor blink. 5 billion thoughts come to mind and I can’t put them down, simply put, because I am afraid. I’m afraid of judgement and not by you but because I judge myself. Far be it from me to say I have done everything in my power to be in the best physical shape I can be right now. I haven’t. I walk as much as the weather, my health and my state of mind let me. I eat or at least try to eat 3 meals a day and keep healthy snacks around. I drink tons of water and managed to get my soda down to one a day. I quit smoking. I’m pretty fucking proud of myself. But the numbers on the scale haven’t moved.
I know in my heart NSV’S are the best kind of victories and I try to celebrate them. But trying to get my motivation up when the numbers on the scale bobble between 7 pounds is really hard. I know I’m trying, I know surgery isn’t that far away….but I have this voice in the back of my mind that I try to ignore. That negative Nancy that tells me it’s all for naught. So I don’t post my progress, because to me I’m stuck, not progressing. I figure no one wants to see that.
As I write this I realize how childish I sound. I realize that if I were my best friend I would tell myself to put on that selfish outfit and start snapping a weekly pic. That I deserve to show off my journey. That I have come do far. I know it all starts from within and lately I haven’t been practicing loving the self within. But I have decided to turn the page. I am going to try my best to update you more regards, try out new smoothie recipies, walk more and just take care of me. I want to hear your stories on your journey down this path
Feel free to write me. Let’s take this one step at a time!
I was going to go into detail, tell you of my story but right now I can’t. I can’t because you don’t need to hear my story right now, you need to hear that I will understand yours. If I can’t understand you, I will listen and empathize. I will give you my hand, lend you my shoulder and certainly be a sounding board. I chose these pictures for you because in them I saw my past, I saw my friends, I saw my struggles and I saw the messages I needed so long ago. The reason I became who I am today, I wanted to be the person that I never found so long ago. So these are for you and me.
I am here for you. For as long as you need me.
The first of many books I stated, let me know what you think
This is NOT a love story! And what I mean by that is that this is some mushy gushy story about love triangles, about some guy or girl shaped my world or any of that nonsense. Though if I really think about it those aspects are in there. However, this is NOT a love story. I will not let you categorize it as such, much like Disney categorized Frozen as a sisters story when it WAS a love story. This, at least I think is more of a suspense thriller, but most people would disagree…Granted most people can’t see inside my brain. Hell I can’t even see inside my brain. Ok off track here a little bit. Anyway, now that we are clear what this isn’t, let me tell you what this is.
This is MY story; yeah get your chuckles out now. I know what most of you think of me, even some hell probably some of those who I’ve chatted up in the grocery store line. I know what you’re thinking. And no, I am not a conspiracy theorist or any of that nonsense, I just know what mask I where when and how people judge me in relation t such. Hell, I’ve burned some of those masks years ago and people still remember them. They are seared so hotly into people’s brains that I will never be who I am today but always who I used to be. So, this is a story without the mask, or at least I hope I can be brilliant honest and make it through. This is the story I should have typed a thousand times in a thousand different ways and I didn’t…
I have a lot of good excuses why I didn’t, but nothing that really gets me out of it. I have 5 fucking stories on my computer, 5! And they each have at least 2 chapters…One of them even had a PROLIGUE! And they are genuine stories that I hope to finish someday, but I can’t put my heart back in the place it was when I was writing them, does that make sense? Ok so by now you know that in person I have many masks, I make a lot of excuses and totally judge books (and movies) by their cover (and tag lines…see first paragraph). Let’s add to the stack shall we? I often go off on tangents that no one can follow (be prepared), I can be very sexual and potty mouthed, and sometimes I just out and out lie…Granted I think it’s more of a retelling of the story in a more fanciful fashion but when push comes to shove, I lie. If you have to ask why at this point I would tell you because I like to. See I told you a suspense thriller would be more my story.
So here I am baring my soul, to the world. Or at least I hope to. In this story that is not about love, though there is love in it. A story full of stories, full of unheard truths and confessions. Maybe I’m repenting for some bad shit I did in a past life, but all I got from all the oogie boogies down in New Orleans where that something really bad happened in a past life but they couldn’t tell me. I think I am writing my story because it is time, or that I am running out of time. No I am not suicidal, I am literally running out of time, I was supposed to write 50,000 words by the month of December and as of right now my word count is 607. I think if I can pound out 50,000 words in two days I would be incredible proud of myself but incredibly worn out. But I made a promise to someone in New Orleans that I would finish a book by the beginning of this year and I broke that promise. I hate breaking promises. So now it’s time to promise myself I will finally finish what I have started. For once in my life have something to look back on and say hey you…look at that, not only do you make beautiful kids, bake a mean apple pies and have a gay harem that puts the world to shame…but you wrote a fucken book. Go team you.
Now that I have gotten a minor introduction out of the way I guess we should start with my childhood right? I don’t have a lot of memories as a kid, but I have flashes of them, if that makes sense. I look through photo albums and I know faces and names and not a lot of details. Every once in a while a very clear memory will pop up in there and I will blurt it out, but those memories are so sporadic, sometimes I wish they would either stay or go away completely.
You sat there in the chair shifting. The cushion was not comfortable but it wasn’t the worst you’d ever deal with. You waited as the papers shuffled on the desk and he turned to face you. Quietly the little boy with the big brown eyes was playing with the blocks. The noises made the silence worse. Shuffle shuffle, click click, unidentified sounds from that beautiful boy. Finally he turned, you dug your fingers into your legs to keep from shaking. You already knew the answer but you needed to hear it from someone who could tell you that you weren’t crazy. He had a PhD, he knew crazy. Autism, Aspergers to be exact. Along with Sensory Processing Disorder and anxiety. You lips pressed together so you don’t cry. You knew what they were going to say, but hearing it was a slap in the face. But 4 years later you’re still ok.
Tap, tap, tap….fancy pen on a fancy leather shoe. Your under a microscope. He won’t tell you what’s wrong. Claims he doesn’t know. But you already heard the answer, because you’ve been living with it for years. But you needed to hear him say it. Say that you were bipolar and borderline. And he refused. So you broke his mug. And when you were finally ready to hear the answer, it was still a stinging mark across your face, because it wasn’t supposed to be right. 3 years later, you’re still alive.
Over and over this happens. It feels good and bad at the same time. Vindicated but what the fuck are you supposed to do now?
Now…When you need answers. When the bloods come back highly abnormal, you get nervous. And it’s not nervous that they will find something but more nervous that they wont. You are tired, swollen and drained. So they had scheduled another test. And you pray something pops up. Because in all your years …Nothing has. It’s hard to fight an invisible disease when you can’t find it. Sick and tired of being sick and tired. So you hope they find something. So that you won’t have to suffer without reasons…
But you realize in this moment that this may be the one answer that you don’t want to have already answered.
Food for thought
AHHHHH! My college newsletter wrote about my Elephant Journal article!!!! It’s on the FRONT page of the newsletter!!!!!!
Check it out!!!!
Good morning everyone!!!
I can’t tell you that the past 2 weeks have been anything other than full of ER visits, therapy appointments, doctor appointments, helping out at a triathlon and getting my first article published. So first things first…1 I didn’t have a stroke, which is fantastic! It was a complex migraine which felt like a stroke. Either way it sucked. My boys doc changed his meds around and we will see if that changes his attitude. Other than that…the pixie doesn’t listen, at all. She has quite a weird streak going on and I don’t know how to break her of it. Charming did a three stooges routine all by himself while holding a canoe and ending up getting hurt (he didn’t do it on purpose).
And I got my first piece published on a platform that is larger than this one. I am so blessed that I have all you dedicated followers, you are the reason that I have continued to write, the reason I have been able to open up about my life, my mental health and the things that ail me. So on that note…
If you get the chance, while you are in your morning routine, give this a read. I wrote this from the heart and am trying to share it with the world. I keep receiving messages about this article touching lives and that makes my heart soar. So give it a few moment of your time and then pay it foward.
Skin Envy – By Yours Truly
All my sparkle thoughts,
So as most of you know I have been writing for a while and I have hit stumbling blocks. But I have written and submitted several pieces to different well-known blogs…and Dun dun DDDDUUUUUUNNNNN…One of them decided they wanted to work with me to publish one of my pieces.
Today Elephant Journal published a piece that I wrote straight from te heart. It is about a stigma that is surrounding our culture today. A stigma that I don’t want my kids to fall victim to it, even though it swallows me whole and has for a very long time.
This piece is called Skin Envy and it would mean the world to me if you read it. I would love for you to share it, reblog it, tweet it, read it to your dog, cat or the homeless guy that lives under the bench down the street. I cried when it was published. It is so near and dear to my heart.
One of my favorite authors and closest friends posted this on Facebook a few days ago. I found it so profound, and you don’t usually find stuff like that on FB anymore. It summed up so many things, what ifs and lonliness, bullying, and just not knowing when to reach out and help someone or when to ask for help for yourself.
Never be afraid to reach out and help those in need, never be quick to judge because you never know what that woman behind that mask or the man behind the curtain are really like. Sometimes it isn’t east to click your heels together three times, sometimes their is no faerie godmothers. But there is always you, and that is good enough for me.
“There is a scene in the final Harry Potter where Harry and Dumbledore meet at a place between life and death, and in that space they see a piece of Voldemort’s soul – this quivering, whimpering, ugly child, shoved underneath a bench.
And Harry, tries to go to it, convinced it needs help. And Dumbledore tells him not too.
I’ve always hated Dumbledore for that. Yes, Voldemort is evil, did he probably deserve what’s coming to him – yes. And I am in no way comparing myself to that quivering whimpering child, hidden away in pain.
But we have all been there.
We have all been so full of loss and heartbreak, and agonizing defeat, and sadness, and rejection. That we have all been there.
We have been that forgotten child in the corner, a deep part of us just shaking and crying and desperately hoping that someone would just come over and pull us out of the dark and hold us while we cry and comfort us until it all goes away.
I know I have.
And chances are, when you are there, you don’t know how to ask, or maybe you don’t have anyone to turn to anymore. You are alone, and you can hear people talking on a bench and your crying out for help, but they don’t come to find you.
So take this with a grain of salt. But you know those “whiny” posts everyone complains about on Facebook? Yes, some of them are just negative people. But what if some of them… just maybe… where people so lost and alone and scared and so desperate for help that they are asking for help the only way they know how. That maybe they just need that hug, or that phone call with a real voice.
I can’t believe I’m going to say this… but maybe sometimes we shouldn’t listen to Dumbledore. Because maybe sometimes they need our help, our compassion, our empathy and our love. Don’t be afraid to reach out – because people are people – but they are also human. And in this crazy world, we can’t do it all on our own.” – Rebecca Ethington