Appropriate reactions?

I spent some time on Google searching "healthy" (in association with what I have been learning in class) and what I found was healthy choices, healthy decisions, healthy thoughts, healthy living, healthy boundaries, and many more healthy [enter noun here], yet I never seemed to find a definition of what is meant by "healthy" itself in this context.

Of course when you look up the definition of healthy, you may be overwhelmed to find out that it simply means, "of good health." Yes, this helps tremendously. And just to take another step, the definition of health is, "the state of being free from illness or injury." Well, that gets us a little closer. Therefore, my deductive reasoning skills (oh my college professors would be so proud of me) are going to conclude that "healthy" as in the example of "healthy reaction" would define as "choosing a reaction that does not cause illness or injury."

Next search, this time for "appropriate" results in a much easier find of, "suitable or proper in the circumstances." That wasn't so hard.

Now, there is a method to my madness here and it is this question: How do you know the appropriate, healthy reaction to a situation? Are there certain ways we must react in certain situations? Is there something wrong with us if we do not react in the same manner as what society might view as normal? Of course this is a pretty wide spectrum question, so let's reel it in to situations where you find out things about yourself.

Ok, so let me try to explain. If someone finds out they have a terminal illness (no, I do not have a terminal illness), how are they supposed to react? Are they required to have an emotional breakdown? Do they have to fall into a state of sorrow? If they just shrugged their shoulders, said ok, and then went to work on things needed to get better, would they be viewed as unfeeling? Would a non-overly emotional response correlate to the thought that maybe they are not taking things serious enough?

Think about it. Where do we learn how to react in certain situations? The answer to this will be different for each person yet it is my guess that most replies would fall in the categories of: was taught how to react, learned by observation, or took your best guess.

So, again, what is the norm for reacting? How are you supposed to react?

I've been in an emotional flux for a few days now, almost numb. I don't know the appropriate way to react. Am I supposed to have this huge emotional breakdown? God forbid, am I supposed to cry? Am I allowed to just sit and ponder it all as if watching the tide come in and out?

I feel like I have been successful on the journey to climb out of this great dark cave (while realizing I still have a ways to go) and then someone kicked the ladder out from under me. I don't want to cry. I don't want to look and see if I am bleeding. I don't want to cower and say I can't do this. I want to stand up, yell "F*** You!", put my ladder back up and start climbing again. I will fix what I need to fix on the way and I just want to keep climbing. I don't have time for singing the shoulda-woulda-coulda's nor do I want to. No, I'm not overly thrilled with what is staring back at me yet I refuse to let it beat me. If I cower, I let it win. If I sit down, I let it win. If I give up, I let it win. The only person who gets to claim a win at the end of this is me.

No, I don't like realizing I am more broken than I wanted to admit. I don't like that there is still a lot of it I don't understand. I don't like that I now have no choice but to ask for help. I will not curl up in a fetal position and give in. Like hell if I will roll over and die. Every day is a new day.

Appropriate, healthy reaction? I've got no clue, yet wrong or not, it is what I choose until I am told differently.

Puzzles

Growing up we spent a lot of time at my grandparent's house. It was like a second home. So many warm and comforting memories from those days. My grandmother did puzzles and as long as there was not a holiday dinner coming up, there was always one in progress on the dining room table. These were not the easy 100 piece puzzles, they were the 500-1000 pieces. If we were good and would "be careful" my brother and I were allowed to go in and work on the puzzle. I remember many hours sitting there placing pieces. What a joy it was to place the final piece. I often wonder if grandma just left those last few pieces just for us kids to do. Even after grandpa passed and she moved to a small apartment, there was always a puzzle in progress. I still have a love for puzzles.

When I was having my neurological problems, I was always looking for ways to stay ahead of the effects it had on me. My hands continually shook  and many days my motor skills were impaired at a level where I struggled with focusing to get my brain and hands to work together. It was a scary time as the doctors could not come up with a diagnosis.

One day I went out and bought a puzzle. It wasn't a super puzzle like grandma always had but it was big enough to keep me busy for awhile. I had this idea that doing a puzzle might help with the fine motor skills. Quietly I would sit at the table looking over the pieces, identifying the shapes that needed to connect, visually scanning the pieces, and then concentrate as much as I could to get my hand to pick it up and place it where it needed to go. It was slow at first and I dropped a lot of pieces yet soon I seemed to be dropping less of them, and eventually none of them. I also realized it had become a calming exercise. On days where I was extremely anxious or after I had an attack with the tremors, sitting and concentrating on the puzzle seemed to have helped. I did a lot of puzzles in that year.

I've had a couple puzzles sitting on the shelf here for a while. One a nice scenic image and the other gumballs. Yes, a 350 piece panoramic of nothing but different colored gumballs. With everything that has been going on I decided that maybe it was time to try the puzzle trick again. It would be a nice distress tolerance and maybe even at some level, a mindfulness practice. It couldn't hurt. So a week ago I grabbed the gumball puzzle and dumped out the pieces and I started sorting out the frame pieces first (that is what grandma taught us).

When my brother arrived the next day his eyes lit up to see the puzzle. I told him I thought I had been a little too ambitious and that I was thinking about putting it up and getting the easier one. He said we couldn't, we had to do the gumballs - it would be a challenge! It may take a year yet we would not let it beat us. Each morning we pick at it and work on it. It has been kind of overwhelming. Even when we got the frame finished, there was this huge pile of pieces of nothing but mixed colors. Where do you even start with that? After a few days of frustration, I sat and started to sort pieces by the dominant color on them. I had forgotten how much focus it took. Many of the pieces were easy to identify the main color and quickly moved into a pile. For the rest, each one would have to be picked up, looked at closely, and a decision made.

These past few days I have spent quite a few hours sitting in front of that puzzle. There really is a method to doing puzzles like these where it multiples of the same object. You pick a starting spot and then you look at the box. What colors are here? What is the shape - tabs on top or sides? These two questions alone can take your search from an overwhelming 300 pieces to a manageable 20 or so. Then you start looking. You touch the pieces. You move them. You pick them up and try them in the spot. You return them to the pile and try again. Soon you find the one that fits. A small surge of joy runs through you. You start the process again. It is not as scary as it seemed at first. With each piece you start to think, this is not that bad, I can do this. Soon a corner is filled, then a couple rows up each side.

Life right now isn't much different than that puzzle. It feels overwhelming, like someone just dumped it out into a big pile. I remind myself that it is just a new challenge and I have been through plenty of challenges before and came out better from them. It will be ok. I will get the pieces sorted out. I will take a closer look at the ones I need to. I will focus and search and find the right fit. It may take some time yet I will be complete again, I will be whole, I will be healed.

And so, on this Thanksgiving day, I am ever so thankful for the gumball puzzle.

Fight, run, or deny

Class is moving along quickly. Its not easy. You have to want to change, want to better yourself. Every week in class (and through the week when practicing) over and over again you are faced with the choice to change. Of course that choice is completely yours.

As I have said before, I am loving it. Even in its difficulty, there is power in realizing a behavior is hurting you, owing up to it, telling yourself it can no longer be an option, then letting it go. The beauty of what we are learning in class is that there are so many healthy things available to fill the void. It is like throwing out the old ratty sheet and getting a big warm comforter in its place. And it's not just "a" comforter it's reversible, microfiber, and machine washable! There might even be matching pillow cases. One thing I am learning is that if I can just trust and let go of the bad, there is generally a whole abundance of good waiting in its place.

So, I've been filling the emotional dumpster as much as I can along the way. It is not as easy as it sounds. Most pieces are quite heavy. Others are entangled in larger pieces. Sometimes you think you got it in the dumpster only to realize it slipped out and you have to start over again. Some pieces have sentimental value to you and you sit with them for a while trying to decide if you are ready to toss them.  The thing is, you are trying. You are doing your best with what you know. People inquire of the renovation and you enjoy sharing what you have worked on. You are realistic that there is so much more to go and that fires up your spirit.You know you are getting cocky and obnoxious yet at least at this point, it is working to your advantage.

Trust is the willingness to be vulnerable.

If you have ever done any kind of renovation, you know that there are going to be surprises. Whether you plan for them or not, they will be there. In our excitement to take a sledgehammer to a wall, we might forget to consider the possibility that the wall is not hollow. So you swing away until you find yourself on your tail, across the floor because you didn't realize there was a electrical box that had been covered up long ago. Always remember, there could be things underneath the surface that you don't realize. And sometimes they cause pain. A lot of pain.

Believe it or not, I do actually have one person in my life that I can go and tell any and all things to. I know she is going to give it back to me just as straight as I give it to her. For years she has been trying to get it though my head to fix things before they become "life or death" situations. Yes, I am stubborn. I also will keep trying to open a door by pushing on it because I won't stop long enough to read the sign that says "pull."

Although I actually see her for non-psychological things, when my life gets to "that point" and I feel I can't turn anywhere else, I go in and I am honest with her. I know she will pull no punches. It is probably to her sanity's advantage that I only show up about every three months. She listens. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes at me. She congratulates me and she chastises me. She knows my games of avoidance and running. She lets me go for awhile then yanks on my chain, as to ask me if I am ready to be serious yet. Then, she puts her arms around me and challenges me, putting the ball in my court. And, with all the compassion in the world, reminds me that if I don't chose to get my act together, she's going to stick her foot up my tail. I would not want our relationship to be any other way.

When you are working on cleaning up a pile of things that have been there for a long time, you forget what is underneath. There are times when you really have no clue what is under there. You might assume you know, yet you have no clue. 

Reality is, you do have an idea of what is there and you refuse to acknowledge it. You want to deny its existence. You want to deny the correlation of it all. You want to fix everything else and avoid it at all costs. Then one day you wake up and you realize exactly what it is. You see the enormity of it. You are shown how much it has damaged you and continues to do so. You cannot fix it alone, you have a problem.

The next step has been placed in my hands. I face possibly the scariest and most important fight of my life and it is my choice - fight, run, or deny.

I, have a problem. 

I, need help.

I, didn't realize I was this broken.

Broken beyond repair?

Have you ever been trying to fix something that is broken and each time you think you have got it, you find another crack, break, or defect. You dab on more glue or add more tape. You might add something to support it until it dries.

A few years ago a friend mailed me a handmade bell of decent size that she had made and fired. She had sent me photos and I was so exited to have a piece of her art. Sadly, despite all the "fragile" stickers on the box, bubble wrap in the box, and stuffing in the bell, it did not arrive in one piece. My heart sank. I took the bell and began to put the pieces back together, dry-fitting them so I would be sure I had each piece in the correct place as to show the amazing design etched in the pottery. I researched the best solution to adhere the pieces back together. I glued the pieces together gently as not to cause more damage. I placed masking tape across the sections to hold the shape and support, then I let it sit and cure. I had done all I could. A week later I was excited to take the tape off, attach the hangar and take it outside to hear its beautiful sound. As I lifted the bell, it broke under its own weight. The original damage had been too extensive and even with as much love and care I put into it, it could not be saved.

I often wonder sometimes if we can get to this point. We wake up one day and find ourselves pretty broken. We survey the damage and start to patch ourselves up. Often we realize as we are fixing one crack others have formed. We glue, tape, even ask someone to "hold here" while we tie a knot. We look at the job we have done. It's ok that there are some scars as they will just be reminders of the great work we did to put ourselves back together. And then for a time we sit and heal. We get excited as the glue dries and sets. Our eyes start to sparkle as the tape starts to fall off, not needing to hold things together anymore. We watch strings loosen and fall away as we become whole again. Then we stand only to shatter under our own weight. Even after our best efforts and greatest intentions, we were broken beyond repair.

Maybe it is humility. Maybe it is a reality check. Maybe it is just the cold, hard truth.

After so many long days of gluing, taping, and licking my wounds, I have come to the conclusion that I am a still quite broken. I was getting so excited watching the glue start to dry that I forgot there are not only still plenty of deep wounds to fix but also ones that are much deeper than I anticipated. I guess sometimes you don't realize just how damaged a piece is until you pick it up and start to inspect it closer. And then you think to yourself, "how will I ever fix this now?"

I wonder which is harder to fix - damage caused by ourselves or damage caused by others. How about when you think it is from one source and then while fixing it find out it was actually the other? Does it change the effort you put into it? Does it make you want to stop? Does it make you want to work harder? You may even wonder if you can just survive without that piece. Sometimes we are too harsh on ourselves.

So you sit with the piece in your hands. You feel the edges - rough and chipped. Can you remember when it was whole? When it was not even a thought as it was part of a larger system? Your heart swells with compassion. Just as with the bell, you dry-fit the piece where it belongs. It no longer sits flush. Maybe if you turn it, tilt it, keep adjusting it. It has to sit just right as to show off the beautiful pattern etched in you. No, it is broken more than you realized. What are you going to do. You lay it down, walk away from it, come back, look at it again. Each time you find more cracks and chips. You start to wonder if your ambition to be whole was actually your downfall.

Welcome to the real world.

Do, Use, Live

Patience is essential to true healing. I wonder if that is a quote somewhere. It should be. It has been a few good days. I am exhausted and it is that "good" exhaustion - the kind that comes because you spent time around positive people and laughed until your belly hurt. These are the days to treasure. These are the moments you get that glimpse of how far you have come. For a brief second you hold the light at the end of the tunnel in your hand before you blink and remember you still have a ways to go to keep it there.

Today, I am happy yet I also am realistic. Celebrations of progress are accompanied by the reminder that the "high" is only a moment in the journey. No, not a judgement, but a point of realism. The wins are energizing. To stand again with strength and power from within has been a long time coming. It will continue, there is more learning to go and more wounds to heal. I must also remember that I have many more years to live and must be thoughtful of a plan to maintain what I have recovered.

My cockiness of the moment provides a safe vantage point to look around and start identifying those situations where I need to test the waters again. In a way, life is giving me some vacation time right now to heal and get healthy, yet I will have to "go back to work" at some point. Running and hiding cannot be an option.

I'm not a huge fan of crowds. Even when I know all the people in attendance, crowds can be a catalyst for anxiety and uneasiness to take hold. I do quite well in groups where I have control of the situation - when I can choose who is in attendance as well as my role in the crowd. The reality is that I am not always going to have the option to control the environment. The plus is that I am learning skills that are going to aide me in controlling the anxiety and uneasiness that do arise.

Tonight we had a conference at church where the adults from several of the area congregations get together for two hours to listen to talks and be taught. I sat between my friend I rode over with and my guardian angel from down south. We all meet in the chapel and since there are so many people, the seating extends into the gymnasium. In other words, there are a lot of people there.

About 45 minutes into the meeting, I could feel the anxiety rising. In my mind I just repeated a few times, "breathe in, breathe out, you are ok" and it passed. A quick glance around let the rational remind the emotional that things were not "caving in" - everyone was exactly where they were when we sat down. Hey, I am impressed I made it 45 minutes before it kicked in!

About 15 minutes later, the anxiety showed back up with a vengence. Again, I told myself, "you can control this, don't let it control you" and yet I had no clue how I was going to pull that off. With my hands starting to shake I knew I had to come up with something fast. My mind was racing through ideas like someone playing 52 card pick up with a double deck. Then I thought, "do what you know, use what you have." 

I have this cool leather bracelet with a metal plate on it. Ironically, it says "live in the moment." I quietly slipped it off and held it in my hands. I took my thumb and rubbed up and down the metal plate trying to pull my focus back to a central point. What did the metal feel like? How were the lights above reflecting in the metal? Could I feel the indentations from the letters into the metal? With the lettering too small to make out the shapes, could I feel the contrast of the distressed engraving against the smooth surface of the silver? I started matching the action to my breath. I rubbed up the plate when I was breathing in. I rubbed down the plate when I was breathing out. Then I thought - switch the routine. Don't match the rubbing to my breath, match my breath to the rubbing. I gradually started slowing down the rubbing motion. I focused on my breath with each action and was able to slow it down. In just a few moments I was able to take the anxiety from controlling me to me controlling it. I'll never make fun of mindfulness exercises ever again.

Soon after there was a break in the discussion and I was able to get up and walk around for about 5-10 minutes. I returned to my seat and although the anxiety was still there, I just acknowledged its presence and was able to maintain control over it for the remainder of the evening.

The situations I am going to find myself in as I go through life are not going to change because I got my emotional tail kicked this summer and fall. In the grand scheme of things, the adversary is probably going to work harder against me. I have to continually remind myself that the power is mine to control the outcome. Continuing to practice the skills I am learning will help when it the honeymoon ends and life-long maintenance begins.

I have a lot to learn still and that is ok. Until then: do what I know, use what I have, live in the moment.

Reflecting

Thanksgiving is this next week and that means a lot of time for reflection. I see a few of these being written. I truly think if I started listing all that I was thankful for I would still be writing this come Thanksgiving 2014. Be not afraid, the joint pain in my hands lately makes for a challenge to type the long posts I already do, they would never last much longer!

There are many things I am truly grateful for this year that in the past I could never bring myself to verbalize. I'm not going to say I was in denial over things as I acknowledged their existence, I would say - from my current learning opportunities - that is was pretty much willfulness over willingness. I can own it - when life sucks you are not jumping up and down to exclaim that you are thankful for it.

And this year, for the first time in a very long time (possibly for the first time), I am thankful for life.

Sure, there are still days that suck. There are days that I just wish I could crawl back under the covers and start over. Yet, this is just life - and an amazing part of it. How could we learn and grow and experience new thoughts and ideas without some bad days? Although I hope for more good days over bad days, I do think that if it were rainbows and puppy dogs everyday it might get a little stale.

I'm thankful for the hell I found myself in this past summer. Yes, now that I'm four months out, I can look back and say this. Without that experience, things would not have been put into motion that have put me on a path of healing that, although I guess I knew existed, I never felt worthy to walk. With that, I will be eternally grateful for the two individuals who followed the promptings of the spirit and showed up at my house that night. Having already "tossed one foot over the ledge," Heavenly Father knew they were the only ones who could talk me down. May they be forever blessed.

I am thankful for my white binder of skills and all who are associated with it. It does not get too far from me and generally is found by my computer at home, in my car, or on my desk at work. It has become more than just words on pages, it is more like those restoration books I buy for the cars I work on. As much as I like to fiddle around and try to figure things out on my own, sometimes you just have to swallow your pride and look at the directions - big grin!

Today, I am thankful for blue jeans with flannel lining. I am thankful that I have lost enough weight to purchase a few pair of these. It brings joy to my heart that they came in "carpenter" style because I find something really cool about the side pocket on the right and the hammer loop on the left. Yes, I come from a lineage of carpenters and I am ever so proud of it. I have a mug in my office that says "I love the smell of sawdust first thing in the morning." My father and grandfathers and the generations of builders before them would all be smiling at my choice in pants! And they are size 38!! A long way from the size 56 I was wearing a year and a half ago. And....they look good on me! Yes, I went there. I just made an affirming statement about myself. Suck it up people, I look good in my flannel lined carpenter jeans that are rolled at the bottom. And today, with my black boots and long sleeved white shirt, I look amazing. (oh! there's another one! Should we start counting them?) I guess my "secondary" thankfulness of this is that I can now take those damn girly jeans and toss them in the pile of denim growing on my back porch. (Not that there is anything wrong with girly jeans, I just don't prefer them). All hail the hammer loop!

I am thankful for the inner strength I have been helped to find that allows me to stand and say that I am a good person. That I don't fear life. That I can take each day as a new adventure. That I can shout once again from at the top of my lungs that I am of worth. I am thankful that, even with these big steps, I remain humble knowing I still have a ways to go. I am thankful for the angels in both heaven and earth that Heavenly Father has placed in my path to help me in this battle. I would say "sprinkles for everyone" yet it is possible that not everyone is as obsessed with sprinkles as I am. So whatever each person finds as their "_______ always makes me happy" may they have an overabundance of it. For me, it's sprinkles. I'm not even picky, it could be the tiny balls, or the colored sugar crystals, or the ones that aren't round but look more like mouse poop. Sprinkles always make me smile and remind me that it is always going to be ok. Until they retired, the ladies who worked in the deli in our local store since I was a little kid would always put sprinkles on my donuts. Even as an adult, I didn't have to ask, they always remembered. Yup, I'm unique and I am good with that. You know how you scare me? "U-neek-up" on me!

I am thankful that through the years, even in times where I felt I had lost everything including hope, I have kept a sense of humor. Keeping it reigned-in sometimes is a challenge, yet it is a defining characteristic that I delight in. The first night of class, in order to introduce ourselves, a basket was passed around that had several different questions in it. These were questions like "what's your favorite book" or "if you could be an animal, what would it be" and allowed us to share something in a non-threatening manner. A few weeks into the class a new person joined us and the basket came out for an encore performance. I would just like to state that I am very proud of my restraint that night. The person the basket went to after me got the question "if you could take only one item with you on a deserted island, what would it be?" (or similar to that). Dude, my heart just started racing and I really wanted to throw my hand in the air and start going "can I answer that! can I answer that!" This question is one of my favorites. I have annoyed many of my friends and family for years with it. It is a simple answer - I would take a car door. There is a part of me that just wants to wait until the very end of this post to even write why I would take a car door, yet, since we are going into the holiday season, I will defer being ornery and answer here. Why would I take a car door? Because when it gets hot, I can roll down the window!! Yes, I am audibly laughing right now. I think this is one the greatest jokes. And the best part - I have nephews who had never heard it before. It's like it has been able to take on a whole new life!!!! It has even become an abbreviated joke - I look at my nephew and say "car door" and he replies "roll window down" and we both laugh like we are keepers of some secret coded information! Yes, I love my sense of humor. <--- ah! another one...there could be a pattern here!

And, I am eternally (and if there is something longer and greater than eternity, it would be that) for my nephews. For all my family and especially for those four boys. Although the oldest is out on his own and I only get to see him a few times a year, I am continually blessed by them. I remember when I first met the two oldest, they had to be around 4 and 7. This was a lot of pressure - I was new and first impressions with kids are everything. What could I possibly do to impress them enough that they would let "Aunt Blewy" into their circle of trust? Boys...young boys...young boys who like gross things...I got this. I won the hearts of my two oldest nephews by belching the alphabet and showing them how I could chew up food and let my brother's dog eat it off my tongue. Toss in blowing balloons up with my nose and the deal was signed, sealed, and delivered. Even now, almost 15 years later and with two more to the mix, I'm still just as cool as I was on day one. I love my boys. I am ever to thankful that I have been allowed to be such a big part of their lives. The youngest, who is now 7 himself, from the time he could toddle around, would come jump in your lap and without any prompting would hug you and exclaim "I love you." He still does it to this day. I'm thankful that they feel safe with me and that they feel they can come and talk to me anytime about anything (to which they do and which finds me calling my brother going "aren't YOU supposed to be having these kinds of talks with them?"). Yup, those are Blewy's Boys.

And that is just a little of what I am thankful for today.

The fear of asking

While trolling Pinterest to build my "healing" board a little more (yes, I have a Pinterest account. I like bath beads too. Don't judge.) I came across this neat pin titled "You are allowed to" then it lists below "MAKE a decision you think is the right decision to make. START something that needs to be started. ASK for help whenever you want it. HELP others whenever you can (even if they don't ask for it). TAKE time off to do something that INSPIRES, excites and energizes you."

"ASK for help whenever you want it."

What? I can almost buy into whenever you need it, but whenever you want it? There must be something to this as my mind keeps jumping back to it. Are you telling me I can ask for help with something just because I desire to have help versus having no other option? Total foreign concept.

Soon after moving back to Charleston in '98, I returned to school to finish my undergrad. Even though I had gone back to the junior college and picked up my associates, it had been 7 years since I had left EIU mid-October of my junior year. Being a student made me eligible for counseling services and after the string of things that I had been through, it sure seemed a good thing to look into.

I was raised in a generation where counseling was "where you went to air your dirty laundry so they can tell you it is all your parent's fault so you never learn to take responsibility." I never really bought into that and seeing I was not out to cause contention, I never argued it either. All I seemed to know was that this idea - someone who might be able to help me with unknown feelings and emotions - sounded great, and was not ever going to be an option. I do remember as a young teen I called a crisis line once when no one was home. The fear of being caught caused me so much anxiety I never did it again.

At EIU, I walked by the counseling center every day to and from class. I would stop across the street and just look at it. I would entertain the idea for just a moment of actually going over there. My issues, my problems, my responsibility to figure them out. I would continue on to my next destination.

I really don't remember what got me to cross the road, but one day I did. I walked up the door and grabbed the handle. If you go through that door, you are a failure. I paused for a moment, let go, turned around and walked off.

Some days I would just sit outside the Union and stare across the street. Asking for help is a sign of weakness.

Over the next few weeks I would repeat the process - walk up to the door, walk away. I can only wonder what the secretary thought, as there was a huge window in the front of the building. I'd like to think I was not the only one who had gone through this routine.

Then, one day, I walked in.

I really don't know what my hangup is with asking for help when it comes to my personal self. It has been suggested that it is based on past responses where my need was not validated or I was made to feel guilty for asking for help. I don't know. All I know is that it over time it has become a very difficult to impossible task.

I do try sometimes. Generally nerves or anxiety get the best of me and, just as I walked away from opening the door, I walk away from the moment. I don't understand it. Maybe it is due to times when my request was made out to be such a big deal that the embarrassment from it was enough to make me think twice. Oh wait, can't forget the change of perception that happens many times. I'm not a damn charity case, I just need some assistance.

While we are at throwing possibility out there, might as well bring up the logistics. What are the parameters the question can be asked in? How do you correctly phrase a request for help? Am I being selfish if I ask for help? Is it wrong to want to ask a certain person over another? How serious does a problem have to become before it falls under being able to ask for help? Oh, and how is the person going to react? That unknown parameter, in itself, is a big key factor.

At times I feel like asking for help will only diminish the forward progression I am making. Not that I am out to have my successes on a marquee, but let's be real, the worst thing to hear is, "she was doing so good and now look." So, is it better to struggle and potentially fail in silence than to ask for help and possibly disappoint?

You see, there is a lot of undue burden just to ask for help, so I do the best I can to figure it out on my own. Sometimes that works, sometimes not so much. Even with the big wins lately, there remain a few big demons that I am trying to beat on my own. It is not working so well and I fear it is only going to get worse. 

"ASK for help whenever you want it."

I do wish it were that easy.

Untangling Emotions

Our homework this past week was to do mindfulness exercises for practice as it is really a base concept for slowing down and centering ones self. Although I understand the principle I do struggle with the practice. This is my "want to run before I walk" shortcoming. The stubborn part of me thinks it has it figured out:

• Take the pencil
• What does the pencil feel like
• Is it round or sided
• What color is the pencil
• What shade is that color
• Is it sharp or blunt
• What does it smell lime
• Does it have an eraser

Toss me an object, I can do this. Need challenge.

The next level as we learned in class is to take the focus from external to internal. Ah, not running but possibly a slow jog. Challenge accepted.

In my attempts to practice this week, I found myself pulled off focus several times. The fact of this was not so much I could not do the exercise as I was still struggling with some left over emotions in my mind that I was trying to work out.

Although a little quieter, my mind continued to take the sadness and anger that I was struggling with and intertwine them so much that I really wasn't sure when I was feeling which emotion and who the emotions were even directed at. And, after four days of this, I was pretty much over it.

I decided to give something a try. I really had no clue whether this was the "right way to do it" or not but I decided to try to use some sense of mindfulness to take these two emotions and try to separate them from each other - kind of give each one a time out on its own side of the room.

As I sat and concentrated my breathing in and out I tried to envision watching the two emotions going from entangled in fighting with each other to slowing down to separating one from the other.

As the day would go on I would feel the two emotions start to fight with each other again I would just stop what I was doing and take a deep breath and in a sense tell them to go back to their sides of the room.

My next opportunity to practice, I decided that I would try to take a look at each one of the emotions separately. As if to step into the middle of the room turn my back to one of them and look at the other from a distance.

I had a few questions that really needed to be answered in regards to each one. I figured as I sat there and studied each emotion I would be able to come to the conclusion what was causing it and especially, who was it being directed towards. My mindfulness practice was starting to mix in some wise mind practicing along with some pros/cons practicing.

In the end, I was able to get most of my questions resolved. It didn't make the emotions go away, it just gave me a very different way of looking at them and dealing with them. It also brought up a completely separate question.

In the use of these techniques that we are learning in class, is it really just "use one at a time" or is it normal to use several at a time to meet the goal you're trying to achieve? I feel like with working through what I was doing it was like having a whiteboard, a piece of paper and a pen, and talking to myself all in conjunction with one another. Each was a separate tool but being used together to meet a certain goal. And, it worked. I find myself with the question of "can it work that way?" I am going to go with "yes" and hopefully that gets answered as class goes along.

Oh, and just for your information, the pencil was yellow, kind of the shade of goldenrod copy paper. It was octagon. It was a freshly sharpened pointed pencil. It smelled like wood, kind of like the sawdust smell that was always in my grandpa's workshop. It had a partial eraser like somebody had bit it off. And, since it was a pencil, what else was I supposed to do with it other than to stick it in my mouth and put my teeth marks in it!

DBT Crack

At some point you just have to believe in yourself, have faith in your higher power, and go for it.

I dropped a text to a friend earlier today expressing some feelings I was having. I knew that she would provide me honest feedback. We all need those people in our lives who will straight up tell you if you are or are not making good life choices. They do it because they love you. They the ones who will praise and encourage you and you know it is not sugar coated fluff, it is the truth. Of course, this is the same friend who over 20 years ago got me in a car on a long drive where I couldn't get away and gave me a stern "you are screwing your life up" talk. Unless I wanted to look like the week's roadkill, I was stuck listening to it. Oh, it made me so mad and to this day I am continually thankful for her boldness. She is one of my guardian angels. She probably should have put in for hazard pay years ago!

There are aspects of my life that seem to be moving at warp speed lately. I sit in class and soak in every word I can. Sometimes I concentrate so hard on something said that I actually end up missing things. When it was suggested I look into the class, it was said that I might find some tools in there to help me cope with life a little better. I believe the other comment made suggested that by the end of the class I would have the option to look at myself and my life in a different way. Walking in there with a lifetime of self doubt and hate, I was up for it for the most part. What could it hurt?

Dude, this class is like crack. I cannot learn enough. Even when I don't fully understand something, I can still tell the usefulness of its application. In between classes I am researching things online and dropping questions to the instructors. If I don't understand it, I do by the next class. My mind runs on overtime. Thank goodness they stress breathing! I try to consciously practice skills daily and be aware even when I am not trying. I get asked how class is going and I get all excited and it's hard to shut me up.

There are a lot of factors combined for such success. Obviously, I have to be willing to "work the program" as we would say in Al-anon. My success or failure in this will depend on my attitude and my commitment. The way the class is taught plays a big part. If you would have handed me a book of all this and said "read this" then I would not be much farther than I was two months ago. There are also a lot of people aside from myself involved in the process. It is not a solo journey and I would never think of taking personal credit for the success of it. Everyone has a role.

Being a visual and hands-on learner, the interactivity and assignments along with a positive attitude from the instructors aces it for me. None of this "now I am going to read this power point slide, take notes, test next week" stuff. Might as well give me the book to read. We are shown, we practice, we give feedback, we ask questions, and we learn. For the most part, there are no wrong answers and there is no pressure to participate. Yes, outside of class I make a lot of quips in regards to mindfulness exercises, but if you actually listen to me you will realize that I am apparently paying attention. My nephew is my accountability partner. He gets to listen to what I've learned and I ask him lots of "what do you think about that" questions. We remind each other often to look for the "blue donkey" and have a deal to do "Peter Pan poses and half smiles" each day before he leaves for the bus.

At the end of the day, I understand the great value of all of it. This is not only because I have made it to the end of the day. but because I wanted to make it to the end of the day. I'm telling you, it's crack.

As enjoyable the wins are, it has not been easy. Just like when I decided to get healthy physically, it had to be a lifestyle change. It would have to be a serious commitment. Options such as giving up, giving in, and quitting could not be available. At least with the weight loss I had a general idea what I was in for, with this I was in total uncharted territory. At some level I would have to trust myself - the person I trusted the least. All I knew was that something had to change. When you can't think back to a time when you did not deeply hate yourself (no matter what you showed the world), then it is time for a change.

I had a jump start on some things - my decision to start feeling emotions came out of the exhaustion of fighting them for so many years. I couldn't keep them from happening, so maybe it was time to try and learn what to do with them. It was time to put names to them no matter how scary they appeared, and oh did they appear. If I would have thought a little more about it, maybe I could have come up with a way to slowly let the big wall down instead of blowing up the dam. Well, leave it to me - all or nothing!

I think my initial "ah-ha" moment with class came the first night we talked about distress tolerance. As we went through several things one could do, I got excited. There were several of these things I had done through the years. Could it be possible I really did have a tiny grasp on my life? The key was that now I was learning the how and why behind these things. I think this is where my brain went into sponge mode (crack alert!). I also was able to realize that some of the things I chose to do were either not healthy or I was unable to keep them in healthy boundaries. Mix that with the odd dynamic in the class that night (I could write a whole post on that alone) and it was like God whispered in my ear "see, you have the power to do this."

Learning and doing sometimes run parallel, sometimes intersect. Like a kid with free run in a candy store, I still only felt safe eating the m&m's. Even though I had access to all the different candy and had been told what they were, I didn't know what they would taste like or if they would satisfy my cravings. As I was learning so many new ways to deal with things, I would find myself falling back into old habits. Unsafe and unhealthy, they were familiar. I knew they worked even though they were damaging. It would be nice if it were candy, blue m&m's could save the world - self-harming behaviors, not so much.

For those 90 minutes once a week, life was good. Wasn't always the best outside. I was changing, my mind was changing, I started to see life differently, and it was overwhelming. I was running faster than I could walk and expecting way more than I could offer. In a sense, I guess that was a sign that I was ok, as this is how I generally go through life. The problem was, with all the new information coming in and the desire to change, it was starting to take a huge toll.

When God tells you He will not let you fail, He doesn't. When you can't stand up despite trying, He sends someone (or multiple people) to offer you a hand. Of course, when you struggle with accepting help, He just has them grab you and pull you to your feet. Then He "firmly" whispers "next time, just take their hand(s)." Ok, God. I will work on this one too.

There have been some really huge wins - great strides forward. Moments where I have broken free of things that have had me bound for years. Most definitely a call for warm fuzzies as my perceptions and vision changes. I never expected it to happen, let alone this fast. It has come with its fair share of heart ache. There is a part of myself left behind. However you want to label it, it is a part of the person I am. It has been the key to keeping me alive - even if the choices were not so healthy. I would like to think that I am just folding it nicely and putting it in the bottom of the cedar chest instead of destroying it. It is not needed anymore and it is still mine. It remains to remind me of a place I once was and how far I have come.

Today the heart ache got me here - a reminder that I am of worth. Yes, let me remind you as I remind myself, I am not only of worth, it is great and amazing worth. I once stood with charge over angels and it is in my future to do so again. People used to look at me, as if looking at my soul and say "who are you?" because they saw it. I have seen it again and I have reclaimed it. My worth and value are just that...mine. No one gets to take them from me ever again.

Now, seeing that I have done great and marvelous things while dragging myself along rock bottom, just wait until I am at 100% again - I will move mountains!

Seriously, crack I tell ya. Crack.

Pushing boundaries

I have been asked before, if I had not been raised LDS, where would I be today? That has always been an easy answer - jail or dead. Even when my family was not actively attending church, it was a belief system that kept me in check. A law of health that stressed no drinking, smoking, and moderation in all things helped to keep me from continuing the cycle of alcoholism in my family - at least as a youth and young adult. A strict moral code helped to deter me from seeking "love and acceptance" in high-risk relationships. A week away at girl's camp for 11 years allowed me to foster healthy friendships that gave me a positive "circle of friends" to whom I still am in contact with.

The gospel could not take the depression away, but in the darker moments, the knowledge of Christ having experienced all feelings and emotions from the highest high to the lowest low brought a small sense of peace - one that kept me alive for one more day. When my coping skills became self-destructive, I truly believe it was this deep seeded belief that kept me from taking that final step and ending it all. To go and teach it as a missionary was one of the greatest joys of my life. When my actions in life did not emulate what I had been taught, my testimony remained. I would go toe to toe in a moment in defense of the Gospel (even with a drink and a cigarette in my hand).

There are boundaries in all things. Boundaries can be many things - verbal limits, written rules, even temporal and celestial law. Knowledge of boundaries can help keep us from getting hurt and from hurting others. They are kind of like those invisible dog fences.

Since boundaries are not really "concrete" that means they can also be pushed. Some boundaries have a quick breaking point, others can be stretched pretty far. The thing is, eventually they come to a stopping point and you are faced with a choice - back off and respect it or risk breaking it.

Back in 2000, I found myself at a crossroad where I had to make peace with a certain aspect of my life. In doing so, I knowingly pushed a big boundary that resulted in costing me one of the most precious things I had in my life. Who knew you could find yourself and lose yourself all in the same moment? Now, years later I got what I had lost back and that came with a whole new set of boundaries.

And so the question becomes, is the pain worth the push? When we push a boundary - whether it be knowingly or not - there are going to be consequences. In my experience, even if you don't realize you are pushing it to start with, you soon figure it out. It becomes a ticking time bomb. You have to decide - are the momentary results worth it? And, if so, are you prepared to pay the price?

Today was pay-up day. I started seeing this one coming a few weeks back. It is what had me up until late hours of the morning searching through emails for behavior patterns. I wanted to confirm for myself that what I saw coming, really was what I thought it was. And, yup, I was right on target. I had pushed a boundary to the point that when I was in a situation where I needed to push it, there was no more give. And there was no one to blame but myself.

Was it worth it? Twelve hours later, has the emotional and physical fallout been worth it? Has wondering if I lost the respect and trust of someone worth it? Will the continual thinking about it for the next seven days be worth it? You know what, ask me in May if it was worth it.

Hopefully, in life we learn from our actions. Right now the question isn't whether it was worth it, it is what have I learned? What was the effect on the other person? Can it be repaired or fixed? All I know right now is that I think I have finally learned my lesson about respecting boundaries with this one. Leave it to me - the one who has to keep touching the hot stove because I can't learn the lesson that it will burn. I may not like boundaries, but I have to respect them. Just as I would want someone to respect the ones I set.

So, accept it for what it is. Accept my role in it. Accept what comes from it. There is kind of a cruel irony to it all. Then again, my life can be kind of a cruel irony - no, that is not being judgmental, it is just a fact.

Fear no more

Oh what a sight it would be for the person walking in front of my office door right now. I've got my headphones on, music cranked, and am lip syncing to Pink, Carrie Underwood, and Adele. It makes sense, I mean why would the Kelly Clarkson Pandora channel actually play Kelly Clarkson? And thus is the productivity of my day. I'm attributing it to my mind racing, 4 hours of sleep last night and abstinence from caffeine for a year and a half. Love me or leave me.

At like 10 last night (or possibly later) I got this "need" to find an answer to something that has been bothering me. Although I thought I knew the answer, I was not going to be satisfied until I found it for sure or located enough information to form a stronger hypothosis. I really need to get these urges much earlier in the evenings. I found myself going through email communication with an individual that went back for about 5 years. I would read and re-read. I was looking for a pattern. I would manage to identify something and of course it was not the piece of information I was looking for, so I would read them again. Throw in some moments where I would read then sit there pondering and reflecting on things and midnight came quickly. Read more. Then 1 am rolled around...then 2. When you can't keep your eyes open, it is a good reason to finally quit and go to bed.

I am not sure I found my answer. I am not sure that it is there to find. I came to some conclusions and that might be the closest I am going to get with it. As with most things, I have probably made it into something much bigger than it really is. I may have to let time and pondering work this one out. In the meantime, I found enough extra to keep my mind churning for a while. Nothing like a little nitro for a mind that already works overtime.

Although my overclocking mind is not doing well as far as writing this with some fluidity, it is great for content topics. While out for lunch (to which I went down to the church parking lot and tried to take a quick nap) I got to thinking about how I am doing with the continued "feeling of emotions." Let's face it, I am not dead or severely injured so there has to be success in here somewhere. It has been scary, an evolving and changing fear. Through this, there has been fear of the emotions themselves, fear of the feelings that could/would accompany the emotions, fear of being unsure of how to react to it all, fear of reacting in an unhealthy way, and even fear of reacting in a healthy way. There is a lot of energy being burnt by all this fear.

I had this thought while driving - what if, instead of starting and living each day afraid of what might come down the emotion and feeling pipeline, I just take it as it comes. Look at it not as a scary unknown but as an adventure. What if, instead of seeing the experience as something negative and fearful, just meeting it head on and accepting the challenge? Why can't I do this? Is it a requirement that I have to still be afraid? I think I am over this being afraid and scared stuff. Yes, I do believe I am. I think this is my decision. This is my choice, today. This is my choice, now. And, luckily, if it is not the right choice, God has placed enough of his angels around me right now who will be able to call me out on it and steer me in the right direction.

I'm good at challenges and adventures. Well, I used to be really good at them. I lost that confidence along the way. Whether I gave it up or it got taken from me or a bit a both, I am not fully sure, but it got lost - at the very least severely diminished. Recently, it seems I keep finding these little pieces of myself and picking them back up. What may have been broken or defective in the past is no more. Now, I am just remodeling - and this place is going to look amazing when it is finished. It would seem that it is already looking good.

There is plenty of work to be done and the good thing is that it doesn't have to all be done right now.

Today, though, I made some extra room.

Keeping the Faith

2 Timothy 4:7 is one of my favorite scriptures: "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith." 

Keep the faith. It's been a motto of mine for over 20 years. It has given me strength in times of weakness. It has given me light in times of darkness. It has given me strength in times of despair. Then, sometimes you come to the "end of your course" and that is where the test results come in.

I loved serving a mission. I was a good missionary. No, I was a great missionary. What an amazing opportunity to go out for 18 months and spend 24/7 sharing the love of Christ. I had hoped I would end up somewhere with mountains. Since the entire world was a possible option, I did not know where I would end up. I still chuckle, it is like God said, "You want mountains, how about this?" And thus, my official call was to northwest Argentina (Salta, Oran, Tucuman, and Santiago de Estero) - right in the middle of the Andes Mountains. Awesome job, God! Awesome!

It was hard and it was enjoyable beyond measure. The joy of service outweighed the craziness at times of the heat, mutant mosquitoes, and annoying companions (you switched areas and companions every few months). The people were so humble. Every elderly person was abuelo/a, everyone spoke as you passed by, they even were patient when we slaughtered their language. There was a lot of love and compassion. It was great. Oh, and Carnival. Yes, I experienced...and survived...the week of Carnival. 

Sometimes God's plan is different than your plan. Near my 9th month, a fall injured my back and within about 8 weeks it became difficult to almost impossible to walk. I had just got a new companion I was to train. It was hard on her as there were many days I could not go out. We would accommodate the best we could - a member of the congregation would stay with me and she would go out with the other companionship. It was not long I was faced with the fact that I had to go home. With still 6 months to go, my journey had ended. I was hurt. I could not serve. I would have to bow out gracefully.

I remember feeling devastated when I had to make made the decision to go home. I also remember the immediate impression I had - "Sister Blew, you have done a great and marvelous work. You have served with all you had. You have been honorable. I accept your work. Now, go home and heal, for I have even greater work for you to do." Boarding the plane I knew only one thing - I had kept the faith.

I spent 9 weeks at home which included 6 weeks of physical therapy. I spent my "free time" working with our local missionaries as much as I could. In August I was reassigned to the Florida Tampa Mission - I would be the first Spanish speaking sister missionary this mission president had received. I would be part of developing a Spanish congregation in Orlando from the ground up. I served until December, one month shy of my 18. I had pushed my physical limits to the max and knew it was time to finish. It was ok, for once again, I was assured that I had fought a good fight. I had done as God asked - I had healed (as much as I could) and I was able to return and do even greater things.

In March of this year I was asked to be president of our women's organization at church. A volunteer position, I accepted and jumped in with both feet. It was like being a missionary again. The skill set I had put together years ago was paying off. Knowing that one was usually in these leadership positions for about 3 years, I was so excited to serve. I had two amazing councilors and a secretary. This was good because we had about 150 ladies on our membership roster, and only about 40 were actively attending services. Plus, I was not the domestic one. Overhaul an engine or build a deck, sure...but I wouldn't be giving cooking or sewing tips. 

I had three goals - I wanted the ladies to know they were not forgotten. I wanted them to know that they were loved by Christ, and I wanted to “save” just one sister. Just one. I wanted just one sister to realize her worth and know she was not alone. I wanted to give just one sister the message she needed so she could have a sense of peace in her life. I would lead, teach, serve and I would work toward these three simple goals. It was going to be great.

Today, seven months into the calling, I was released. It was by my choice. This summer's events had taken a toll on me and the decisions I made following them shifted the focus of my priorities. Even with that, I was determined to serve and carry on until a traumatic event happened the first part of October. I knew at that point I had to take what little I had left and put it on myself. I also knew what it meant for my calling.

The Monday night before I left Orlando, the congregation threw me a party at the church. Well, I think they called it a "holiday celebration" but it was a goodbye party (Latins love a reason to throw a party). Almost 4 months earlier, there was not even a congregation and now there were over 100 active members attending each week. The goals we had set had come to life in ways we couldn't imagine. We laughed, hugged, and remembered. Two days later I would take off my name tag for the last time. 

Today in service as I was waiting to be recognized and released, I thought about the goals I had made back in March. In the short time I served, I had contacted every sister on our roster either by personal message, phone call, or visit. Through multiple ways I had taught and testified of the love Christ had for them and the love I had for them. They knew I cared unconditionally and without judgement. 

It was the third goal that in the end has amazed me. I had wanted just one sister to learn of her worth and importance. It was a righteous goal and I knew Heavenly Father would allow me to find that one sister. Never once did I imagine that the one sister Heavenly Father would point me to would be myself. But, you know what, that's not a bad person to save.

It has been an emotional day. Bittersweet. I do know, without a doubt, that I served with all I had. I used every moment I could find and I gave it to the sisters. For, at the end of this journey, I fought a good fight. I finished my course. I kept the faith.

Big win

Personal Progress  (PP). The infamous "Young Women's goal setting program" every LDS female youth gets introduced to between the ages of 12-18. The program has changed several times since I was 12, but it still remains an excellent program. In my time, it was completely goal based. There were six "areas of focus" in which you developed personal goals each year then worked with your leaders to complete and check off on them. You would get certificates and upon full completion, a really cool medallion.

My family went inactive when I was almost 14. It was hard to be away from the YW program. Even though I didn't have a lot of friends, I enjoyed how I felt when I was at church. Thank goodness for girl's camp each summer and basketball many of the winters. These were my social lifelines, my personal progress was my spiritual one.

I didn't return to church regularly until I went to collage. Within a few weeks of being back, I was asked to work with the young women. After seven years of camp (that would eventually top out at 11) I knew most of the young women in the surrounding congregations, so it was a great joy to work with them. As well, it gave me the chance to do the one thing I had not - get my medallion.

My heart broke when I learned that the program had changed almost three years prior to this. Those I talked with knew my family had been inactive and asked if I had even done anything in all those years. I took out my weathered PP book, full of pictures, writings, and memories. I pulled out papers from every year that listed goals and monthly checks. Although I had no YW leaders to mark my progress, I had done it personally. It was there - six years of goals, achievements, and completions. I was asked why I would make such the effort when my family didn't even come to church. I replied it was my way of staying close to God and feeling his presence. I knew it was important. Permission was granted to present me with my medallion even though the program had changed. Someone made the comment that they had not seen that much dedication by active kids in the church, let alone inactive.

The very skill of setting and achieving goals brought a sense of accomplishment that felt good. It was also a skill that would benefit me for all my life.

One morning in May 2012, I woke up and decided I had had enough of the life I was in. After years and years of weight issues I found myself once again close to 400 lbs. I could no longer sit on my couch because I couldn't get up off it (plus, it had broke from the extreme weight). Taking steps was difficult and I found it hard to walk from one room to another in my own house without shortness of breath & chest pains. I was a walking heart attack/stroke time bomb. Because the scales at the doctor office only went to 350, I would stop by the recycling center down the street and weigh on the scale there. Toss in some food addiction and eating issues and you have a great recipe for disaster. You see, when you really don't care if you live or die each day (and generally are praying for the latter), your weight is not a top priority. I had no clue what I was going to do, but I knew that it had to be a complete lifestyle change – physical, emotional, nutritional, and spiritual.

I knew that my main failure point in the past was accountability. Once a month weigh-in meant eat what you wanted for 3.5 weeks and then starve for 5 days to lose a pound. Asking for help was not an option for me. I am the one who helped others, not the one who asked for help. I knew if I was going to make this work, I was going to have to ask for help.

I made a deal with a few friends, if I screwed up or cheated, they had to choose a punishment for me. They agreed and I did my first weigh in on June 11th at work (new digital scale that went up to 500#) in the presence of one person. I had gotten down to 370 lbs. I would weigh in weekly to keep me accountable. Then I took a big leap out of my comfort zone and put my journey in a public forum. This was huge, but it was not about me – I hoped that by putting it out there, it might help at least one person to make positive changes in their lives.

There were a lot of immediate changes. Nutrition and exercise were the first two to get an overhaul. I had no goal other than to get healthy. For a moment I had no clue as to how I was going to do this, then I remembered - personal progress goal setting.

I set realistic goals for each area. Small changes that could be attained. The journey was going to be more successful with a focus on small wins along the way than trying to meet a huge, overwhelming goal. Goals were as simple as losing 3 lbs in 3 weeks and walking around our building several times a day to raise my heart rate. Nutritional changes were more strict, but attainable. It would mean sacrifice, but it could all be done.

By the end of the summer I was able to get on my bicycle. My first ride I did just at 3 miles and thought I was going to die. My last ride in November was 27 miles. I also walked in two 5K races before the end of year. In December I broke under 300 lbs. A few weeks later I had weight loss surgery. It was a tool that would help me keep the weight off the rest of my life.

It was a good plan. 160+ less pounds later, it still is.

Today in session, there was a win. A really big one. I didn't realize just how big until afterward when I had time to really ponder on it. The more I think about it, the bigger it keeps getting (and the bigger I keep smiling). There is going to be some serious smile mileage coming out of this for a while.

During our discussion, it was brought up that I did not have to "fight for my life" anymore. I had my life. I had breath. I had light. I had control. Yes, the emotions would still come and be scary, but the emotions and feelings would not kill me. I was alive. If I was going to keep fighting, fight to become better. Fight to become stronger. Fight to become healthier. Fight to better the life I had secured.

I won. I won a big one. I didn't do it alone and I would never take solo credit for it, but I did good. I didn't give up. Granted, I needed someone to tell me to quit beating a dead horse (oh, wait, is that phrase even used anymore?), but I had pulled off something I had accepted to be completely impossible - a lifelong battle that would never resolve itself. Yet, I kept fighting.

Luckily, I was able to find one person to share part of this with today. Nothing like having great news and no one to tell it to. Actually, to me this falls under the "want to shout if from the rooftops" kind of excitement. Hey, I am going to live. This is really big! It is the total "they were not lying - there really is a light at the end of the tunnel" affirmation. My mind has rallied on this for over 12 hours now - I'm still stoked. I am not sure if I should be this excited, but I am. It's going to be hard to go to sleep tonight.

Here is what this means - I have the strength to endure and make changes. I really can do this. I really am still as powerful as I once was. I exist. I am. Today, I stood up and walked out of hell. Yah, that is how I feel - I finally walked through the door that led me out of hell and I have some basic skills that are going to keep me from going back there - at least voluntarily. It is a good day.

I mentioned to my friend that I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do next. She said to me "of course you do, look at your weight loss." And then it hit me - change my focus. Yes, there is an amazing goal at the end of this journey. That cannot be my focus. My focus has to be the small steps along the way. Small, attainable goals. I've done this before. I can do this again. Today, I celebrate. Tomorrow, I start writing goals.

Now, I don't have over 150 followers on this part of the journey. I have a very small handful of people that even know I'm fighting this fight. I try not to share too much with them though. Friendships do not always survive mental health issues. This will be one of the difficult parts - not being able to share the successes readily with someone. Sure, I enjoy the pat on the back (even if I act like I don't) but I'm ok with celebrating alone - it will keep me humble. Besides, I can write always write about them.

For today though, big win. Very, very big win.

Alcohol bad.

When I was finishing my undergrad (all hail the non-traditional student) I took a weekend class where we watched the movie "When a Man Loves a Woman." Can't remember the name of the class, but I remember the movie. I had seen the movie a few years before. This is the one with Meg Ryan fighting alcoholism and being in rehab and the effect on her family, etc. I remembered we watched part of the movie Friday and finished it on Saturday. What I also remember was the effect watching it had on me. I remember it being very difficult to watch. It stirred up emotions and I felt very uncomfortable sitting there. Although not parallel with the events shown in the movie, I related all too well to the emotional message coming through. It was emotion overload and I felt trapped in it. It stirred feelings that I had already mastered burying and it was not pleasant. I remember keeping my head down most of the time. Although I could still hear the dialog, not having to see it too took away some of the harsh reality. I contemplated leaving, but I had never walked out on a class - and besides, it was just a movie, right? I have never watched it again. As well, I had not thought about it again until later this evening.

By the end of class tonight I found I was pretty shaken up. This was odd to me as I had made peace with the dynamic of the class weeks ago. I actually enjoy seeing my classmates each week. I chuckle how we all sat outside in the lobby the first few classes, no one saying a word to each other and barely making eye contact. Now we laugh and carry on like a bunch of school kids. And underneath it all, we continue to cheer each other on in our journeys.

Class started a little different tonight. A question was posed to us to share a little be more about ourselves or our struggles. Everyone shared a part of their story, a part of their journey that brought them into class. Yes, even I did.

As each person shared, there was a level of relation all to familiar. Some things I directly related to because I had done them myself or been in the same situation. Other things were more indirect - I recognized the emotion or the behavior. My journey arrived to those places in a different way, but I knew the place all too well. In a room full of very individual people, it became very apparent that we were more similar than I ever expected. The exercise was only a brief part of class but it did leave me on the edge. I did not think much of it at the time as I figured it was just the whole "shared a personal story" nerves or just delayed fallout from my last blog post writing.

When I graduated with my bachelor's, my friends threw me a party at their house. I really did not want this for I knew it would pretty much be everyone getting drunk while I sat there sober. I wish that this is all it had been. 15 years later it continues to be in the top 5 of the stupid things I agreed to do when my mind tried to tell me different. Actually, I think it may be top on the list. This night alone could be content matter for many, many therapy sessions. What is it about alcohol and people being stupid and doing hurtful things? Maybe I should have drank too that night, then maybe I wouldn't remember it all. I guess this is where I am supposed to say "it was what it was" and move forward. Even though it was the kickoff of a long, downward spiral, it also set me up for a way to recognize and try to control my anxiety.

While driving home tonight, had me a good case of the shakes. This is the cue that I have triggered a certain anxiety level. The higher the anxiety, the worse the shakes and tremors. Through the years it has become a built in warning mechanism. It used to end in seizures, but those stopped after being diagnosed with sleep apnea. It can still get pretty bad though. Feeling it getting worse, I quickly realized what was happening and what had triggered it.

Sitting there listening to everyone share was like sitting through that movie. I related TOO WELL to things that were being shared. There were emotions that were being triggered that I had not been prepared to feel. While I was engaging and listening, my subconscious was screaming "I don't want to remember these feelings." It all happens so fast and before you even realize it, there you are, caught off guard and wondering what the heck just happened.

So now what do I do? I could have called someone and talked it out. Um, yah, still not to that place yet. I could have sent an email sharing my feelings and asking for feedback. Um, no. I think I have sent out plenty (if not too many) emails recently. Which simply leaves, try to figure it out on your own. Kudos to me, I did. Maybe I really am learning something.

There is still a lot of class to go. I am sure this will not be the last time this happens to me. Eventually I will just have to admit that I am human. What I do now is make a plan on how to react to it when it comes around again. I may not be able to keep it from happening, but I can control how I react to it. Next time, it gets cataloged under "it is what it is" and I will have a safer drive home. 

For now, it's time for bed. Emotionally, I feel like I have been put through a wringer. I've made good strides this week. I've made healthy choices. I am making one now as usually this is the key moment I would reach for the cocktail of meds to take care of the emotions. Actually, I would have hit them up as soon as I got in the door. I am going to guess that there is a time when emotional pain is healthy to feel - or at least it is unhealthy to try and avoid it.

As for the graduation parties, when I got my Master's I made it very clear that if anyone even mentioned throwing a party I would disown them and never speak to them again. No one even brought it up.

Good job people.

Dear Blewy

Dear Blewy, 

Although you may not be at a place yet where you will believe the things I am about to say, I wanted to take the time to write it. Your recent travels and work placed you in situations where it may not have been comfortable after the things you have been through lately, but you really stepped up and took them on like a champ. Not sure if you realized that or not, but you did.

You have come so far in the past few months. I hope you are able to feel the growth and change. I know every day is still scary, but I hope that your fear starts to diminish. If you look back, do it with caution and find the growth. Do not measure it. Do not judge it. There are no expectations. Remember what Zina used to say, it is not the time it takes but the forward progression that counts.

You are not alone in this.

Know that God has placed angels around you to protect and strengthen you. Some you cannot see while others physically cross your path on a regular basis. Listen closely with your heart and mind and you will hear Him say "look, there is one, trust them and let them help you." At some point in their journey of existence they agreed to watch over, help, and strengthen you - allow them to do so.

I know you are afraid. I know your heart is broken. I know you feel defeated. I know you often get that deep anguishing emptiness in the pit of your gut. I know many times you feel lost and alone. I wish I could take that away. I wish I could give you the comfort you so deeply seek, but I cannot - at least not at this time for I am still learning and healing myself. It does not make you broken or bad. You are not damaged goods. It is just part of the hand you got dealt. Just keep trusting that somewhere down the line it will get better.

Know how sorry I am that I could not protect you through the years. I did not know how. I did the best I could with the knowledge and tools I had. We got hurt. We healed. We got hurt again. We fought and we gave up at times. We made some less effective choices, but we also did some great things too. All we knew was that we had to survive and we had not been taught how to really do that, so we guessed. If I could go back and change things I would in a moment. You were always good and precious and of great worth. You changed people's lives for the better just by knowing them. You made mountains move. You, were amazing. The trials made you even stronger. You and your "bring it on" attitude and "no fear" mantra kept the fire burning. My heart aches that those great things got taken away from you and you feel they are not yours to have again. I am truly sorry. I hope that along this journey that not only will you be able to forgive me for not protecting you more, but that I will be able to forgive myself too.

It only gets better from here.

It took a lot of courage for you to stand up and decide to fight for yourself. Not knowing even what that meant or would entail showed that you still have something amazing inside of you. Be patient with yourself. Those characteristics of overachieving and perfection can deter you as quick as they can benefit you.

Remember the first fall and winter after your mission? Even with a cane you could barely walk. It took all your focus to just shuffle your legs to move them forward - but you did it. Some days the pain was almost unbearable while other the numbness brought fear that any one of those steps could be your last. It took you a long time to travel distances that others took for granted. You kept going. You have to keep going now. Even when it feels like you can no longer move, you have to. You cannot give up.

I know the demons come without warning sometimes. I know how exhausting it can be. I know how easy it is to want to let them win. I know that deep desire for all to "be quiet" for just a few moments. They say that this time will come. The demons may not go away fully, but there will be times of peace and quiet again. I, like you, continue to hope that the quiet times will become the greater of the two.

Take care of you. You are soon to be in a position where you can do that with even more focus. It does not mean you are being selfish. Quit fearing this outcome. It is ok to think, as well as to say, no. You do not have to save the world today, only yourself. And you only have to work toward that today, not complete it.

Remember.

Amongst the darkness and doubt there is light. Those great memories - like girl's camp, basketball, your mission, coaching, and the boys - are your lifeline. Those are yours. Those cannot be taken away. Hold tight to them. Relive them. Laugh. Smile. Play them over and over in your mind. Focus on every detail you can. Remember how you felt in those moments. Try to feel that now. Hold that as long as you can. When it gets dark, do not let go of them.

God believes in you as do I. He would not have chosen you to fight this battle otherwise. Great things will come to you and others as long as you keep fighting. You are needed. You are needed here and now. This is your time. You are still the great warrior you have always been and you still look amazing in armor with a shield and sword. Keep fighting.

It will come. You will be able to stand up again. You will see how strong and mighty you are. It is in you. It is in you now. I can see it. Don't be afraid to look for yourself.

Don't be afraid to ask for help. I know this is hard for you. You have been hurt. Everyone wants to help but there always seems to be a cost - shame, guilt, lost friendships, abandonment. People are put off when they should be compassionate. I understand, I truly do. You have to reach out though, you cannot travel this road alone. Look for the angels and reach out. They will grasp your hand. Just hang on. As scary as it will be, trust them. They will not let you fall.

Take a deep breath. It is going to be ok. You are going to beat this. I promise.

Keep the faith,
Big Blewy