New Year, New Blog Name!

It had to be done. It really bothered me every time I saw 282.5. I had to change the name of my blog.

I am no longer 282.5. That seems like a lifetime ago. I've worked hard, changed my ways, and it was time.

That's just not me now. Sorry, don't have a current photo to insert--will have to get dolled up and pose one of these days.

So the decision needed to be made, what do I name my blog? There was only one answer, and this blog name has been floating around my brain for months.

The Tortoise.

Slow and steady wins the race. Persevere. Stick with it, keep plugging away. Yup, that's me. Then, of course, there is The FIRM connection.

That's a favorite workout of mine, plus the fact that the categories of FIRM workouts were Tortoise/Hare/Strength/Cardio...it was a no brainer.

I was a bit worried that The Tortoise was negative, picturing a slow and awkward tortoise crawling at a snail's pace. But that's how I get around some days myself. I think it's more positive than negative.

So new year, fresh new start. I am now The Tortoise. I will win.

Posting More

I haven't been posting a lot as of late. I decided I need to.

Today no workout--was dressed and ready, but my body told me otherwise. So it was a body-prescribed rest day.

Went grocery shopping tonight and was so embarrassed. As I was leaving, the boy who takes the groceries out (bagger? I can't think of his title) was going fast and I had a bad twinge and had to stop. I was just so embarrassed. I had to tell him to hold on, I couldn't walk for a second. So then I felt the need to explain--so I said I have a pain in my stomach, I'm having surgery soon to find out what it was. Sheesh--it's one thing to share it on my blog, but in real life to a total stranger. Then the kid was so cute, he said he didn't mean to scare me, but his mom had pain for years and they finally found it was a tumor on her uterus--a fibery tumor but it wasn't cancer. He said she almost died. (It's rare to die from a fibroid, but it can happen.) I told him I was glad she was okay, but I was thinking--yeah, me too. I have had several of them. I've had that same surgery myself. I just pretended it was my stomach, though.

My diary has been very fun/sad/funny/enlightening to read. Tons of food for thought. It seems I have always been "behind" in my life. I always have lists that I never get to. Back then it was homework. I laughed out loud reading how I'd run home from school during the lunch hour (it was over a mile home) so I could snatch the mail. Why? Report cards and/or progress reports. I was a smart kid, but I didn't always get my homework done and they'd send out those stupid progress reports. Mom would be livid and made life hell--far worse punishment than need be for the circumstances. So I was naughty and snatched them.

Wasn't all bad, I did end up getting a full-tuition scholarship my first two years of college. I am an honest person, to a fault, and reading my diary, I was then, too, unless something would set mom off. I love and miss her tremendously, but she had some real issues. For my own sanity, I did things to protect myself. Snatching the mail addressed to the parents of me was one of those things.

For what it's worth, the other day I blogged about the wooden spoon being hit in front of me over the stewed tomatoes. Didn't get hit that time, but she did hit on occasions. One time she had a six-pack of pop in a mini-cooler and hit me in the head with it. I got slapped. I got hit with a purse once. Not true "beatings" but it wasn't always just emotional violence. I do think the emotional violence was far worse than being hit, though. I am sure that's why I have anxiety today.

But today's thoughts were all on that always being behind. I think I'm going to be contemplating that for a few days. Life is short, too short, and I don't want to be behind all the time. I can improve in all areas of my life in that regard--and maybe this period of time is the perfect time to implement changes.

Rattling and prattling on tonight. Waiting for my husband to come home. He should be here within the next hour. He's been in my hometown of Denver all week. I wish I could have gone! I would have loved to decorate my parents' graves for Memorial day weekend. I do know that since Dad was a vet, there will be a flag placed there.

A special thank you for all the comments on last night's entry. They helped me tremendously.

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Today was better, but not by much. I actually took two naps. My mind was racing with thoughts. I was in a mood. Hubby cooked dinner, thankfully. I did get some cleaning done, but when it was time to work out--I said forget it.

At 9 tonight I knew I would regret not working out. So I dressed up and decided time didn't matter. My son actually joined me, which meant we had to do Power 90 Sculpt 1-2 again. That's all he'll do.

I started feeling a little better. When we finished the half-hour workout, he had his protein shake and I put in The Firm's Not So Tough Aerobics and put in another 40 minutes.

I felt like a NEW person. Can't believe what a magic pill exercise is. Showered because I was a sweaty mess. Had a small protein snack.

And here I am, wide awake due to two naps and working out late.

Diary, I have been a Firm Believer and haven't been doing many Firms as of late. I love Cathe, I love working out with my son which means Power 90, but the Firms are always first in my heart. I think that I need to do more Firms because they bring me joy--and results.

Diary, I have also come to the conclusion that LIFE isn't always a bed of roses. We aren't supposed to be happy and cheerful all the time. There is a whole range of feelings and emotions, and we aren't really living unless we feel it all. So right now I'm feeling a lot of fear, some sadness, some anger. I'm thankful that I am not stuffing my feelings and can actually feel now.

I also had some joy today. Today I was thankful for:

1. My son, who worked out with me.
2. Sitting outside after dinner, enjoying the birds singing, and the fresh spring air--and the fact the neighbor's poodle wasn't out yapping his head off like normal. lol
3. My bed and my bedroom. It is my favorite room of all time. It's comforting to retreat there when I need to.
4. A comment my husband made. When I was done working out in my size Large Nike t-shirt, he said, "That's going to be way too big on you soon."
5. My old Nike/Reebok/Adidis t-shirts that are size 2XL. Couldn't throw them out because they were favorites--and now they are big and long enough to be nightgowns. They're comfy!
6. Another comment by hubby, "You're starting to get loose skin again." And that means I'm losing fat and it takes a bit of time for the skin to catch up. (True to my history, it isn't showing up on the scale, but it is on my body.)
7. I'm thankful for my new clothes. I feel so much better when I go out and about.
8. Out of coffee and filters, I ran to the store and bought filters and decided to try Duncan Donuts coffee. A splurge as it's expensive, but it is yummy. Decaf, of course. What a joy to have some delicious coffee.
9. My new bob haircut. It's a long bob, but it just feels good.

Counting my blessings because I have many. Thank you all for your support, it means a lot to me.

Down in the Dumps

I am really, really low right now. I am definitely down in the dumps.

My sleep is all screwed up.

I have NOT been working out. (I believe that was the cure for my insomnia!)

I was hurt really bad by two friends this week.

Had a appointment with my accountant this week for our taxes. He is my hubby's age --somewhere around there, and he had a heart attack last year, had a stent that didn't work, had bypass, just had another angiogram because he's not doing well. It hasn't clogged up, but he looks like he's on death's door.

Please say a prayer for him and his family. He has a daughter in college, a son my son's age, and a younger daughter. We were in a mom's group with his wife before the boys started school. We're not friends, but I like him and his family well enough. His health condition really got me.

One, as he was telling his story, it was a flashback to my mom's battle with heart disease. She died at the age of 59. She was so young. It just scares me for him.

Also, I had a panic attack while he did my taxes. I kept myself together, but the minute he got up and closed the door, my heart started pounding. My husband knew why immediately. I was afraid he'd keel over in front of me during the appointment. Why was I afraid of that? Because my mom keeled over in front of me and had a heart attack, went into a coma, then died. Then again, two years ago, Dad keeled over in front of me and had a heart attack, and died a couple months later. So my panic was a reaction--a learned response--and I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there. And I mean absolutely no disrespect to him at all--it's just my own issues.

It just really hit me hard.

I slept most of the afternoon today. That's not like me. I was just sad, in a mood, and wanted to be left alone. Not good.

At supper tonight, (thanks for cooking, honey), I mentioned all the things that were bothering me. A long list of things popped out, including the fact that I have been thrown away by my siblings. That's okay, because they're alcoholics and have mental issues that they really need help with--far beyond my anxiety issues. My anxiety, btw, came to a head just by being near them. But the way they treated me just--I cannot comprehend it. Watching my sister drink a 12-pack of Bud every night was horrifying. Yet she insists she doesn't have a problem. She was extremely violent as well--in front of my son. It makes me sad, I hurt that I have no one to mourn my parents with. It is what it is, and my life is better without them in it--until/unless they get help. It hurts, though. Even though they were nasty, I still have love in my heart for them. Yet I refuse contact anymore.

There's a lot more to it than that, but that's all I'm willing to share here. For now, I guess. That has been eating at me for two years.

Ugh. I just feel really crappy right now. I think this ovary issue is hanging over my head, has me scared to death. Living with the pain for the last three and a half months has really crushed my spirits. I do not know how people carry on with chronic pain. My hat is off to them. At least I have hope mine will go away.

Seeing my accountant in the state he was in, him telling me how exhausted he was, and him looking like he was on death's door scared me. That could be me--had I not started to lose weight, eat healthier and exercise. It was a dose of reality that touched me beyond measure. It still could be me, with my history. My parents both had heart disease. I still have high triglycerides, which means fat is building up in my arteries. I'm anxious to get that tested again soon.

I'm so tired of living my life in fear. Everything I do is fear based. I fear a lot. It's not healthy. It's not living. It's consuming me right now.

I need to get it together. Tomorrow, no matter what, I'm putting in a good workout. That helps me on so many levels. One step forward. I don't know what to do about fear. I think that's why I wrote this post, just to get it all off my chest. I guess that's another step forward.

Life is full of ups and downs. Feeling blue tonight, I looked at my weight loss photos. It might be coming off slowly, but damn, I've built muscles that I can see, I've gone down several sizes--so that was a great, much-needed pick-me-up tonight. Just need to keep my eye on the prize: health.

I can and I will. Even when I feel crappy. I did not overeat today, came right in on calories. Actually feeling things--feeling them deeply! lol So another step forward.

I can and I will.

Falling in the Fall

I dread fall, because...

after fall comes winter and sub-zero temps
there's less light
it's cold
my joints ache
it's freezing
there's less going outside
it's damned cold

and my SAD hits me hard.

Last year I bought a light box and it helped tremendously. It's time to pull it out again and get it set up. About mid October every year a dark cloud starts lurking above me. It does not lift until the temps warm up in the spring.

I never had this when I lived in South Dakota, Colorado or Wyoming. It's a lot colder here for the duration of the season, and I swear there's less winter sunshine here.

I hate it. I really do. I was in a mood all day today and I know this is why. Plus, I was a little sad after being in a city with stuff to do with my son and coming home to nothing.

I do not like where I live. I hate it. There, I said it. Whenever I go somewhere, I always feel empty when I come home because it's back to nothing. UGH

I'm a city girl at heart. I've lived here 12 years now, the longest I've lived anywhere in my life. It's my least favorite town and house ever, we have awful neighbors, and as I mentioned, there's nothing to do.

I can't change where I live. So I deal. Thing is, I need to deal better. With the SAD, I'm hoping the exercise will help more this year. It is what it is. I have the choice to be grumpy or not. I don't have the choice to not have SAD.

I need to work on my choices. I read somewhere recently that thoughts are things, and I'm giving the boot to negative people and things, so why would I keep negative thoughts around? It's tough when you're in a negative mindset to give them the boot.

I'm going to work hard this week on my choices involving thoughts. I think they need some major tweaking. Especially because these negative thoughts make me want comfort food. I almost bought Weight Watchers brownies at the store tonight. Not that big of a deal, but I put them back on the shelf when I realized that I was looking for comfort rather than just an enjoyable brownie.

Choices. Count my blessings, see the positives because they are everywhere. Choices.

Conflict/I'm a Ninny

I hate, hate, hate dealing with conflict.

Today I called the newspaper office (fifth time this year) because we didn't get a paper Saturday, Monday or today. I've talked to the guy many times, and the last time he said he'd fire the kid. He had called him, gone to his house, talked to him until he was green in the face, but for some reason he won't consistently deliver to our house. The boy misses three or four days in a row about every other week. I don't call often enough to complain.

I started out very nice, because I AM nice and because it's a kid. I told him this has got to stop, because we paid for our paper and we are not getting it. We've gotten so many credits, and I don't want credits, I just want my paper.

So as I was being nice, the man got frustrated. All of a sudden he got angry and started blaming me.

You need to call the carrier, not here. Where is your orange card that the boy gave you when he started the route?

I never received an orange card. I had no idea who the carrier was until I called your office the last time.

Where is your house?

I tell him.

Oh, that house. Said in a tone like we have the most disgusting house on the face of the earth. He got very angry. Do you have a box?

Yes.

Where?

I tell him.

I don't like that box.

This pissed me off big time. My son made that box when he was 9 and it won a blue ribbon and 2nd place overall in its category at the county fair. I said: I don't care.

It sits on the ground.

Too bad. (I drove down the street and most people's boxes are on the ground.)

It's always full of papers (no it's not!) and I don't like that box.

I said: Too bad. The point of this conversation is not whether you like or dislike our newspaper box, it is that we are not getting the newspaper. This not my fault, this has been happening all year, and it's unfair. We are being stolen from because we paid for a product that we are not receiving.

He hemmed and hawed. Well, you are right about that. But kids can be forgetful.

For days in a row? How many times have you called them and gone to their home?

He started getting argumentative again, stating it is ironic that it is only our house on this route that is having problems. Plus, as he went on, in my mind he was calling me a liar or accusing me of something.

I said STOP. Look, we paid for a one-year subscription for our paper, and we want a paper. You are giving me excuses. All I want is my newspaper.

I was pissed and he knew it. He said he'd drive out, deliver the paper, and talk to the boy.

Hubby got home and waited for the guy. I hid in the garage and eavesdropped. That guy was nice as pie. It made me absolutely sick. I was mad.

If you do something wrong, take responsibility. Even though he personally did nothing wrong in not delivering papers, I contracted with his newspaper, not with the delivery boy. He is the employer, and he has to take responsibility for the boy's actions.

As reserved as I am, I just simply would not tolerate him making this my fault. That was bullshit. That's a typical bully tactic and I'm done playing with bullies.

I also do not understand why he was so sickeningly sweet to my husband and treated me like dirt. Sadly, that is very typical in this town. My husband and I have talked about that since we moved here, it's like going back 50 years in time. Men are great and women are not.

Where is customer service? Especially in this day and age, where newspapers are going under, where money is tight? We will NOT be renewing our newspaper subscription when this runs out. I'll read it at the library or at McDonald's over a cup of coffee before I spend money on it again.

~~~

Did I turn to food? YES, I did. I told hubby I was too upset to cook (I was shaking, when will I get over this stupid anxiety crap?) and so we went to Subway. I ate within points, but I still went for ease and comfort. Not so great. I need to get over that instant gratification, because even though I was within points, it wasn't a healthy reaction.

How stupid to get upset over a newspaper!

But, I still will take two steps forward on this. Why? Because I stood up to the guy. I was still fairly polite, but I didn't take his sh*t. While I would have acted this way five years ago, I wouldn't have done it in the past year and a half.

Why can't people just get along? Be professional? Be courteous? You're not getting your paper? I'll take care of it. That's all that was needed.

Sometimes I feel like such a ... looking for a word ... ninny??? posting this kind of stuff. I want it here, though, because I do go back and re-read, and I want to push myself and grow, and I forget this kind of thing if I don't write it down.

No Xanax was taken, I got over it when my belly was full. Not so good=food doesn't make it all better, nor does a full belly.

So I'll only give myself one step forward on this one for standing up to the a$$. I don't know what to do about the food thing--I was within points, but I know that it was done wrong and I could have snapped very easily and eaten stuff I should have. But I didn't.

ugh
The ninny

p.s. Why do I react for standing up for myself like this? Why does it make me shake? I did nothing wrong, in fact I think I was right to not take his crap--so why did I react the way I did? Stupid, really, but is it lack of confidence? What is it?

About My Crisis...

I tend to awfulize a bit. That wasn't always the case, and it came as a result of spending two weeks with a mentally ill alcoholic sibling who attacked me. It was as a result of everything going wrong that could go wrong: deaths, hospitalizations, extreme issues beyond normal. 2008 was a very bad year, and I wonder sometimes how I ever survived it. But I did.

As a result of 2008, I have an anxiety disorder and a lot of fear--mostly of a particular person, but it has generalized. Every time I turned around that year, something awful happened--really awful. It was surreal. Thus, the awfulizing.

I awfulized today with the printer. I worried, I got that sick feeling and it was all due to money. I just got our debt paid off, then wham, $600 in car repair and now a $500+ printer. (Which for our use really was justified going expensive.)

It's just money. I recognize my emotions. I prevailed today. I didn't turn to food (cookies and chocolate), I had and felt real emotions. I was upset, then tonight I was just mad and in a bad mood. I hardly read any blogs today because I was busy being upset.

I look at this as a huge victory, though. As short as a few months ago, this would have put me into a woe is me mood--or rather, continued that mood. I am to the point now that I recognize what's going on rather that just sinking further. I'm fine now. It's just money, and I've been so good with money, that I'll get the debt paid off soon. Sh*t happens, printers die, cars need repaired, etc. While I haven't built that emergency repair fund up yet, I will, and we'll be okay.

I couldn't have come to that conclusion months ago. I could not have counted my blessings. I could not have run through all the emotions (which I hope are fairly normal or healthy: frustration, anger then getting over it--only I think my frustration might have been heightened.)

I wish I could share what all happened to me in 2008. I posted some of it in a previous blog post: dog dying of cancer, dad's surgery and then heart attack in front of my son and I, CPR, husband hospitalized with medical emergency, son diagnosed with epilepsy, pneumonia that wouldn't heal for me, tons more...the part I didn't share was the cruelty my son and I were subject to, the abuse, the alcoholism, the attack--which happened in front of my son. I don't know that I can go there. I want so badly to tell my story, but I have to have some respect (even though I don't get any in return) because the person is mentally ill. And I do love the person deep down, but I can never be around her again. She stalks me. It's still bad, but it's more distant. My son and I watched this person drink a 12-pack of beer nightly for two weeks. I almost welcomed it, as it mellowed her out. When she was sober, life was hell.

There will never be a resolution to it. There will never be an apology. There will never be an acknowledgement of the abuse. That is the resolution, and it sucks.

It's taken me a long time to heal. At many points I would look to my husband and cry: I JUST HURT...every cell in my body JUST HURTS. The pain I experienced was tremendous. Slowly, that pain is leaving. I don't hurt every day anymore. I actually laugh, have fun, and have come alive again. I sure remember, though. That which doesn't kill us makes us stronger. Sometimes it takes awhile to get stronger.

I don't know all the answers yet, but I do know when things are settled, I will no longer have contact with this person except for her stalking me on the internet, as she does. (I have proof.) That is why this blog has the search engine feature turned off and short RSS feed. Paranoid a bit? Perhaps, but I need a place for me, where I can express my feelings without that fear. As my husband has told me all along, I need to take my life back. This blog has helped me to do just that. And if I am found, so be it. I'm NOT giving this blog up.

I have wanted to share this for a long time, but didn't out of fear. There's a reason why I awfulize, why I have all this stupid fear. I'm working on getting rid of it. I am so much better than I was in February: 41.5 pounds gone, moving more, good blood work and better health, and my mood has improved so much that I just cannot believe it.

Another two steps forward.

This is my journey to health, and to me, health is body, mind and spirit. It is all related. I think I should give myself a red star for recognizing my awfulizing today and getting over it. ;-)

Take a Chance

Take a Chance, Don't Waste It...
The Time is Today

That was what was printed on our high school Key Club t-shirts. (Key Club is the high school version of Kiwanis.)

I think of that phrase a lot.

I need to take a chance. I've been thinking into the future about 200 pounds and below. I've been thinking about onederland. The last time I got to onderland seven years ago, I freaked. It was very uncomfortable to me--even though I was more comfortable. Like that makes any sense.

It was strange, I drew attention, because lots of people commented on my weight, and I just didn't care to be the center of attention.

It was being uncomfortable, plus stress with my son and his education, that did me in. He was in public school at the time, not doing well, and we had taken him to a gifted educational psychologist in Colorado. It was there we learned he was gifted with learning disabilities, would probably never get a good education in public school just because his brain was wired so differently, and it was then that the decision was made to homeschool. (We are NOT anti-public school at all, my son had some fantastic teachers. In fact, his last PS teacher took me to lunch one weekend and suggested that my son be homeschooled. She recognized his gifts and his limitations and knew he needed a different environment for learning.)

I had remained perfectly on plan that whole trip. I was down 72 pounds. On the way home, we stopped at a gas station. I bought a candy bar. I ate my stress. The rest was histroy. I gained it back plus.

So when I started this journey in February, I kept thinking...I'm doing great now, but what will happen to me when I get below 200. I have been fully expecting a freak-out session, struggles, and being uncomfortable with my body again, even though I'm more comfortable in my body.

I need to stop that thinking NOW. I really think I'm setting myself up for future failure worrying about this and sending myself these negative messages. It's always there, it's always in the back of my mind. "Onderland."

So I need to come up with ideas to replace my stinking thinking. Ideas?

I can focus on health, which has been my focus all along. Right now that's pretty powerful--extremely powerful. Will it be enough when I get to onderland?

I haven't been below 200, aside for the brief period of time seven years ago, for 16 years. I gained and went over 200 after mom died.

At this point I don't know how to think healthfully about onderland--I don't know how to change my negative thought patterns.

I'm working on it, and I need to do it now before I ever get there. I am open to suggestions.

Ghosts from the Past

Yesterday I mentioned Student Council and Honor Society. Neither thing was germane to what was talking about, I but wrote about them to push myself. I never acknowledge that part of my life. It's not like it comes up in conversation, but even in my own mind, I try to run from it.

The reason is pretty stupid, and yesterday was a great day of thought for me. I figured it all out.

When I finished high school, I wanted to go to UNC in Greeley to be a teacher. The thing was, my mom was ill. Very ill. She had heart disease, she had had breast cancer, she had gall bladder issues, she developed diabetes--you name it, she had it. I now know she also had mental issues. While my friends were all going off to dorms, establishing their independence, something I desperately longed for, I made the choice to stay at home to take care of mom. With that choice came community college as opposed to a "real school."

I received a full-tuition scholarship, and off I went. I had two part-time jobs, I was very active and pretty happy. I was the joiner, happily so. I joined student council the first year, and the second year I was elected president. I had no idea what I was doing. It was a learn-real-quick deal. I bumbled, embarrassed myself, but muddled through. Through that, I helped a member of the faculty start the honor society, Phi Theta Kappa--the honor society for community and junior colleges. So something good came of it.

When I was elected president, the newspaper interviewed me. The entire front page was about me. My picture and the interview. It wasn't bad. My mom sent a copy of that to my brother, and he ripped me to shreds. His words stripped away any confidence I had, made me feel like an idiot, and broke my heart. I never spoke about that again. I was embarrassed.

As an adult looking back on the situation, I'd like to smack that brother on the head several times. I look back to a young girl who was fearless. I wanted to make a difference in the world and I was doing that. I made mistakes, and I actually am embarrassed over some things I did, but by golly, I faced my fears and went for it. I learned on the way. I did it. I wish I would have seen that then.

When I finished the community college, I was going to move to Greeley. Nope, mom didn't want that. She wanted me to be a court reporter. She held purse strings, she held massive control over me, and so I did what she wanted. I had saved a bunch of money, and because I did what she wanted, she paid half my tuition, I paid the other half. I finished the 2-year program in 18 months. At 21 1/2, I finally moved away from home--400 miles away from home. Then my life really started.

No regrets, things worked out the way they should. But I look back to what should be happy memories and cringe. Now I realize that one should never, ever let someone else's opinion be more valuable than one's own.

Now I know my brother was jealous and was being mean. His character over the past 20years has shown -- well, that he has no character. He's a cruel person. He's miserable. Why on earth would I let someone take away from me like that? Why did I give him so much power?

Life's short. Trust yourself. Ask for advice from trusted friends, but the bottom line is we should always follow our own heart.

I think that was the first time that my confidence got stripped. I think that was the beginning of my negative thinking, my lack of confidence. I think that set me up for 20+ years of putting myself down in my own mind. I'm not good enough, I'm not smart enough, I have two stupid Associates Degrees and not a Bachelors, etc.

The buck stops here. No more. It's right to live in the moment, but I think sometimes we really need to look to our past to find answers. That was really a profound thinking therapy session for me. I learned I gave my power away.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. Bull. Words do hurt. The trick is to believe your own words, the words in your heart, not those of others. That is true power.


~~~
I'm very proud I have two Associates Degrees and I had a very good education at my little community college! I've always known this, but could never acknowledge it. Now I can.

Two steps forward!

Good Things in My Life

The Good Things...

My son. What a special, compassionate, caring young man he is. He brings me so much love and joy. He keeps me going. As a mom, I have to keep going, for him.

My husband. He gives me the best support that he knows how. While we don't have a perfect marriage--who does--he loves me deeply. No question about that. He is my rock.

My best friend/cousin. She has been through it all with me. Long conversations, tons of support and love.

My friends. I don't have friends locally. I know a lot of people, but I have never connected deeply with anyone in town. I do, however, have very good friends that I have been in constant contact with via email and telephone.

Paying off our debt. That was a long, difficult road. I put some of my very small inheritance from dad on the last of the debt. That was one of the most liberating things in the world--instant peace of mind. Now we have a mortgage and a 3-year car loan. Still, not faced with monthly credit card bills--that is priceless. Now we're actually able to put some money in savings each month. My son's college fund has started.

My puppy Pip: Without this little guy coming into our lives, there would never have been photos of me because I don't like having pictures taken of me. When we picked Pip up, I was happy and my husband was busy snapping pictures. The photos I uploaded the night we got Pip were like a slap in the face, they jolted me awake.

My husband and son's puppies: These two are loves. They're fun, they're quirky, they're energetic. One is very sensitive and can tell when someone is upset. When someone is upset, Apollo is right by their side. Tesla is a snuggler, a lovebug. He's needy and is always by someone's side. We live in Border Collie world, and that's a great place to be.

My new doctor. I now have a doctor who listens to what I say--to be heard is a wonderful thing. She jumped on my problems. For the first time since living in this town (12 years) I feel I have good medical care. Before it was adequate. Having confidence in a doctor and her office is wonderful.

My weight. Perhaps getting to 282.5 was a blessing in disguise. In the 260s where I trudged along for a few years, I wasn't miserable enough to take action. At 282.5 I felt miserable, I couldn't move, I couldn't get comfortable to sleep at night. I couldn't bend. I just felt so swollen and awful. Perhaps 282.5 was the bottom of the barrel for me, the low point I needed to get to in order to wake up. I named my blog with my weight so I wouldn't forget.

My new-found health benefits. Since starting this journey, two amazing things have happened. I was 1 point away from being diagnosed diabetic. My fasting blood sugar 125. Starting Weight Watchers knocked that number on its butt. I bought a meter, self-tested to find I was under 100. Last time I was at the doctor it was under 100. One less huge worry gone.

My blood pressure was borderline high. It was this close. Now that is normal.

I have lost 12 percent of my original body weight. The weight is coming off slower than I had hoped, but that doesn't stop me. Persevere--it's worth it!

I feel better physically. I can do things that I couldn't before. I still get tired, but I have more oomph. I can walk up a hill without getting winded or looking like I'm 90.

I did not suffer from depression through all this, except for the seasonal stuff I get every year. That is amazing. While I get melancholy, sad and reflective, it's not the same as depression. I did have a depression diagnosis once in my life, so I know what it's like. I have always had hope throughout this, which is a great thing. I've always been in search for a new normal.

I have found the ability to actually feel. I feel the good and the bad. I experience it the way life intends. I am not eating my feelings now. This may be why I feel a bit lost and don't know exactly how to correct some of my issues, because I've never attempted to do so before. I always just ate to numb myself.

My blog. When I was shocked into reality and decided to start Weight Watchers again, I knew I couldn't do it alone. I knew I needed support. I had never read weight loss blogs, but I did read homeschool and vintage blogs. I knew it would be the perfect place for support. I was right! I started mine, then went on the lookout for bloggers to follow. What an amazing community. I cannot be more thankful for the support I have received. I love following others and giving support, too. My husband and I were talking about it the other night. We both agree that the blogging community is what is making a difference for me--it is giving me the support I need to succeed. We're all in this together, and to find people that have the same struggles, and learn how they cope, is amazing. When I read of losses, I celebrate that blogger's victory like it's my own. I feel other bloggers' frustrations as well.

Oh, the blog world, how empowering it is. Thank you!

Dreams...I've started dreaming again.

God--always with me, I am never alone.

Hope. I've never lost hope.

Yes, I can and do count my blessings.

The Last Year and a Half

Getting things off my chest is a good thing. I was a bit weepy today, caught up in deep thought. It helps writing things out, getting it out there and out of me.

It's not just dad's death, cleaning out his house, and memories of mom that has been rough. I'm just starting to wake up out of a fog I've been in. It's been a very tough year and a half for me.

Just so I don't sound too whiney, this is a list of events for the last year and a half:


* Our beloved dog died from liver cancer--I was distraught
* We got two new puppies -- we had great plans of agility, flyball, etc. Still on back burner.
* Husband was traveling a lot, gone all the time
* Dad called to ask us to come help him through surgery
* Loaded up the puppies, the kiddo, and the schoolwork--hubby was out of town so we had to take the puppies. Drove two days to get to dad's
* Dad had his surgery
* Couple days later he had a heart attack at the kitchen table in front of son and I
* Saw siblings I hadn't talked to in 1 1/2 years and so many years I lost count -- tense
* Stayed while dad was in hospital for two weeks under extremely stressful conditions
* Had massive panic attack, went to walk-in clinic where they misread the EKG and called an ambulance. My poor son watched his grandfather carted off in an ambulance a few days before, then saw me loaded up
* Spent night in hospital, had many tests done. Diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder
* Cleaned up dad's house and drove two days to get home
* Waited, stressed, worried about dad as he was in a skilled nursing facility improving all while doing school again
* Got a gut feeling, made plane reservations
* Went to doctor, told him I didn't think I could make it. Gave me a big bottle of Xanax which helped me through it
* Flew out to be with dad
* Made decision with family members to stop dialysis
* Had chief of staff at hospital scream at me in hallway, none of my siblings were there
* Lost nonrefundable airline tickets home to stay with dying father
* Spent final two weeks with dad while living out of a motel
* Dad died
* Started estate paperwork
* Flew home
* Numb, started school back up
* Took son to emergency room as he cut his hand open by squeezing a pop can requiring many stitches
* Husband had a major medical emergency and ended up at the hospital
* Tons of bills--cell phone, medical
* Drove two days to clean out dad's house
* Got very ill while there
* Went to walk-in clinic, diagnosed with sinusitis
* Took antibiotics but didn't get better
* Spent two weeks hard labor/emotionally hard cleaning out house
* Spent one final day at the museum of nature and science at son's request before heading home
* Casa Bonita one final time for son
* Drove home, so sick son would have to hold wheel while I sneezed or blew my nose
* Got home two days later, came in to say hi to dogs and husband and then drove myself to emergency room
* x-rays taken, had pneumonia
* unpacked all the things I had shipped home from dad
* not getting better, visited doctor for new meds
* two weeks later still very ill, doctor again, put on very strong antibiotics
* son diagnosed with Juvenile Myoclonic Epilepsy
* finished school, standardized testing: son did a fantastic job above grade level except spelling
* sent son off to his first summer camp--he needed some major fun
* MRI taken of my head due to problems with my left eye--they didn't find anything, ha ha--actually not funny, it's still a problem (when I recline my head, my vision blurs for awhile after, can't read for sustained periods due to blurring vision)
* summer over, what happened, time to start school
* husband hit by a car in California, totaled his car--the pictures scared the you-know-what out of me, thankfully he and the person who hit him were unhurt
* completely numb, hardly remember winter
* bought light box for seasonal depression--worked great!
* sold Dad's house
* husband gave me the Christmas gift of cleaning the house--I was so sick and so tired that it got bad (by my standards)
* house cleaning turned into a week-long decluttering spree
* cleaned out every room of house, donated van loads of stuff to library, all our puppy stuff to humane society, and to Salvation Army
* filled dumpster twice!
* paid off all our debt
* bought another puppy--and puppy stuff as we donated all ours
* saw pictures of myself, aghast, started blog and Weight Watchers
* started waking up a bit out of my fog
* took obedience classes with all three dogs
* bought new-used car -- back in debt
* son's standardized testing: he scored way above grade level and post high school except for spelling, which was grade level as always
* scanned thousands of family photos--still not done with that project
* was co-executor of dad's estate, although the other co did the majority of the work -- still stressful
* found new doctor--wonderful, things starting to change
* son diagnosed with ADHD-nonhyperactive. I think it's called nonattentive (he can't focus but he's not hyper)
* all the while doing homeschool every day, playing mom taxi getting DS to his after school stuff, suffering major cramps every month, suffering "the pain" I have had for years, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, paying bills--ordinary stuff

There's some major personality conflicts thrown in there that I do not feel at liberty to discuss any more than that. They were a major source of stress, though.

That's the gist of it. I know I'm leaving some stuff out, but that's the major stuff.

Aside from dad's death, my son's epilepsy diagnosis ripped my heart out. That deserves a post of its own one day.

I just fear being judged for being weak. I judge myself as being weak. Kinda. Yet I had a hard road -- we all did for awhile. Tough stuff. So if I seem a little whiney, or like I just need to get over it, things were much deeper than they appeared.

It hurt me. I'm still hurting. I haven't dealt well with everything.

Everyone has stress. Sometimes a big, black rain cloud follows people. It did me. I kind of feel like it's still here, but hopefully the wind will blow it away. On a good note, I gained less than 20 pounds after all this. On a bad note, I got myself up to 282.5. On a good note, I've got my act together and am working on my health, physical and mental.

So that's it. More blog therapy for me. It feels really weird to expose myself like this. I think I need to do it, though. Friends can only handle so much of it.

Yes, I Cried While Watching, But...

My son and I watched the Michael Jackson Memorial today. Yes, I cried--but for different reasons.

My sweet, sensitive 13-year-old was at summer camp when MJ passed. I had forgotten, but some of the big jokes at summer camps for boys his age are Michael Jackson jokes. When the counselors told the boys that MJ died, my son got upset that they continued the jokes. He thought it was disrespectful. That's my son for you.

So I introduced my son to Michael Jackson's music. Took me back, I didn't realize how much I liked his music and how it has touched my life. I was a senior in high school when Thriller came out. I didn't buy many records, but I bought that.

Anyway, I was very sad today. Sad that a man so young, so talented passed away. However, today was sad for me because it was the 16th anniversary of my mom's passing.

She had a heart attack in front of me on the 4th of July, 1993. She lapsed into a coma and never awoke. Strangely, she was recovering from a quadruple bypass and when she passed out, I thought she was having a seizure or a diabetic seizure. It wasn' until the paramedics arrived that I realized what it was. My dad sat there holding hands watching in terror.

Mom's loss shook my world more than anything up to that point. I was devastated for a couple years, until my son was born.

Before her death, I was in the 170s weight wise and feeling very frustrated being so fat. Within weeks after her death, I shot up to the 220s. I never recovered with my weight. I did briefly make it to the 190s in 2001 when I did Weight Watchers, but stress set me off again and I ballooned up to 282.5.

It took many years to work through the guilt--had I only done CPR, maybe she could have been saved. I am at terms with it, and I know it was God's will, it was her time. I no longer have guilt over it.

The 4th of July celebrations are always difficult to me. Anniversaries get me, and to this day, I miss my mom.

Fast forward 15 years, last spring my dad had a heart attack in front of my son. It was identical to mom's. This time I knew what it was, and my brave son and I got him to the floor, and were just about to start CPR when the paramedics walked in. Dad lived a couple months, and passed away in May. I miss him tremendously.

When we cleaned out their home last summer, I realized that mom had been alive in my heart all these years because except for the dining room and messy kitchen, dad kept the house identical. He didn't change a thing. So when I went home, I was surrounded by mom in spirit.

Cleaning out the house was traumatic for me, as I had to say good-bye to both. It was so final.

I often wonder why, out of four children, I was the one that witnessed both heart attacks. My sister told me it was because she wasn't strong enough, and I was. I laugh at that, because I was not strong. The paramedics called the police after dad's heart attack. The doorbell rang, there stood an officer, and he walked in the house, had me sit on the couch, and he just talked with me. He told me the paramedics said I was so upset and distraught they knew I needed someone to be with me.

If I'm so damned strong, why did I develop an anxiety disorder after dad's heart attack. That's when I had my first massive panic attack, a couple days after dad's attack, I was in the hospital room two doors down thinking I was dying. Why do I close my eyes and see his heart attack, and his final weeks replaying like a movie, over and over. Why did this stir me so that I absolutely ached for my mom again.

Why do I today, a year and four months later, still have panic attacks. Nope, I'm not strong. It's just my warped way of coping. As Marlon Jackson said today at Michael's memorial, "I hurt." So do I, so do I.

So back to mom. I was 28 when she died. Today I'm 44. I've learned a lot in that time, I've grown, I've matured, I've gained wisdom. I know that she had a lot of issues, I know she was plagued by depression and other issues. I know my anxiety issues came from mom. I went 360 degrees with my feelings toward mom. At one point I was very angry with her, when I figured out how messed up she was. Now I'm back to the beginning. She was my mom. She was human, perfectly imperfect. She made mistakes. I forgave her. Now I miss her. No one loves you like your mother loves you.

I am loved deeply by my husband and son. The love from my mother was different, though, and irreplaceable. I miss that. I miss her.

I love you, mom.

Weekend Review

I needed a break. I have never gone this long without blogging!

Friday night: I had a cry from the bottom of my soul. I cried for a couple hours. I so needed to do that. The thoughts popping in my mind as I just let everything out consisted of more than I realized I was upset about. I cried for my Dad, I cried for the loss of family that his death brought. I cried over my son's diagnosis of epilepsy. I cried over my old dog that died a year and a half ago. I cried over my uterus that has given me grief my whole life after puberty. I cried because my husband just didn't understand (and darned tootin' I set him straight) that I was scared. I cried because I was sick of pain. There's more, but those are the biggies.

Saturday? I felt human again. I cannot believe what that did to restore me. Our town was having its summer festival. We went. I was in a lot of pain so the boys would go off and do things. It was so nice sitting in the sun, though. That night we went to the parade. I love a parade. I love that there is a 3M plant where we live and every year they give out awesome things from their float. I got six sponges and two stick-it notepads this year. Cool. I like that as much as kids like candy. My son got 3 pounds of candy. I weighed the bag on the scale. 3 pounds--wow. It was mostly Tootsie Rolls, so I know his dad will help him eat it. I'm glad I don't like Tootsie Rolls.

I have decided to not exercise formally until after I speak with the doctor. It was just too painful, and when there's something wrong, I think it's best to let it be. I did do a lot of walking Saturday, but rested when I needed to. It wasn't sustained like regular exercise.

I feel renewed. YAY

I have not read blogs for awhile--I've skimmed a few, but I just didn't have anything to give to anyone. I love to read and give comments, but I just needed to hibernate, become the recluse I am. So once again, I'm very behind.

I am in a better place now, back where I belong.

One NSV I had this weekend: We went to Subway for lunch. I think this was the first time ever that I got a 6 inch and not a foot long. And even though I could have eaten a foot long, I was satisfied with the 6 inch. Wow. My foot only swelled a little from that, which is another NSV.

I think I had a breakthrough. I talk about not eating my feelings, but I think I really experienced that this weekend. I mean I haven't been eating the feelings, but i hadn't really been feeling the emotions in depth, fully. Friday when I cried, I did. Wow.

Two steps forward.

Funk

I am just in a nasty funk and going downhill fast.

I start to get better, then something happens and I'm full of negativity, feeling like crap emotionally.

I had a lot of pain today. "The pain" as I call it, whatever or wherever it stems from, I still don't know.

I did get off my lazy butt and exercise today. I did Richard Simmons' Boogie Down the Pounds. The pain flared up at times while working out, so I'd have to modify. I still got a good workout in and it was good to sweat.

I got really down tonight as I found out a friend had been humiliating me publicly. Oh joy, what a friend. I'm thick skinned and pretty tough, but it hurts nonetheless. I think it was jealousy over my weight loss. The good thing is that I'm a straight-forward person, and people who know me get the real deal, so the twisting of the truth--I think they'll see through it. I typically don't care what people think of me because I know I'm a good person. It's just no fun to be on the receiving end of BS.

I then called my best friend and we talked two hours. It was so nice because she rattled on most the time about her problems. Not that it's nice that she has problems, but it helps me put mine in perspective. Plus it gets my mind off my own.

I have not read blogs today. I always feel so behind when I don't do that. I like to read what people have to say. This is the greatest support network and I value it tremendously.

I had my mammogram today. I've been having the since I was 35 because my mom had breast cancer. I'm still not used to them, I don't enjoy having a tech touch my breasts, and having them smooshed. I am very stoic when I have these done--probably appearing rude. It's very uncomfortable for me--as it is with many women. I hope they understand that, as I do not like being rude. I am not a rude person.

After I left, I sat in my car. I am not a paranoid person at all. Given my funk, though, I got to thinking...that tech didn't look me in the eye when she came back in the room from looking at the pictures. hmmmm...Reading more into that than I need to? Hopefully. Mom was my age when she got cancer--I think. My son was the same age I was when mom got cancer, so maybe she was a year older. That's a scary thought.

I don't do stress well. And I'm stressed right now. The good thing is that the rest of the week I'm free, I don't have to go anywhere. So I think I'll do some spring cleaning, take my son for a long walk -- if the rain clears, and try to calm my butt down.

~~~~~

And the whole moral of this story is that even though I wish to live on an even keel, life isn't that way. There are ups and downs. Good times, bad times, happy times, sad times. Instead of using food to numb myself, I'm really feeling. Now I just need to learn to deal a little better.

Blog therapy. Just kibitzing about it helps.

Panic Attack

I just had a panic attack. I'm still shaking a bit.

I drove my son to his art class, and while driving I just had an overwhelming sense of doom. My heart started pounding, my gut felt weird, and I was scared to death I would keel over.

Keel over. More on that later.

I talked myself out of it, but I'm still shaking. I reminded myself nothing happens when I have these things, I'm always safe. Where it came from, I have no idea. I have felt kind of weird all day, though. I felt nauseous and tired.

This is not the first time this has happened to me while driving my son to art class. What is the connection?

I did not take a Xanax. I talked to myself out loud like an idiot the whole way home. Had it been bad, I would have pulled over. I would never endanger myself or others. It's just a weird, panicy feeling.

KEELING OVER

When I have these attacks, I always worry that I'll keel over. I know why I worry about that.

I watched my mom keel over and have a heart attack in 1993. We were sitting there visiting in her living room, boom, she was having what I thought was a diabetic seizure, but instead it was a heart attack. She never regained consciousness and she died a few days later. Her last words were, "Jo, something funny's going on."

Last March, I was sitting at my dad's kitchen table, and I looked up and he keeled over. Just sitting there visiting, then the next he was seizing. It was a heart attack. This time I knew what it was. With my son's help, we got him to the floor and I was starting CPR when the paramedics showed up.

Those visions are permanently etched in my mind. I think they're connected to my panic attacks.

Epilepsy also runs on my husband's side of the family. While I've only seen a few seizures in my years, it's the same thing: Boom, on the floor. They just keel over.

My sweet son was diagnosed with epilepsy last summer. He has never had a seizure, but he was having jerks similar to those you have when you fall asleep. The difference was that he was awake and upright. They are called myoclonic jerks. He had an EEG and was diagnosed with Juvenile Myoclonic Epilepsy. He is on medication which has stopped the jerks. His type of epilepsy is one of the most controllable types, thankfully. He could drop in a second, though, and have a seizure.

So with these admissions, I think I just saved myself $200 in a therapy session. I know why I fear what I fear--because I have seen it, lived it, and it is very likely I'll see it in my lifetime again.

Now I need to figure out how to quit being so scared of keeling over myself. I need to quit fearing that it will happen to my son.

That's the hard part.

The other thing I have to figure out is why I have these panic attacks out of the blue. My blood sugar may be low because I have not eaten much today because I was nauseous. That is a strong possibility. Otherwise, I'm clueless.

I know this: I hate this. I hate the feeling of losing control. I hate the fear that comes with a panic attack. I hate that it happens to me.

I'm sitting here all alone--well, with my doggies--but eagerly awaiting my husband's arrival home from work. His presence always makes everything better in my world.

It Occurred to Me...

While reading blogs last night and this morning, I was thinking a lot about the scary aspect of losing weight.

For me, that's attention. Several years ago I went from 264 to 192. I felt great, I had energy, and I was happy. Until a very stressful situation came about with my son that was health related. I turned to emotional eating and put that weight back on plus some.

BUT...part of the reason I was able to cave so easily was I was uncomfortable that people paid attention to me. While I was proud of what I had done, it was too weird and icky when people would come up to me and say, "Wow, you look great."

I had just gone into the regular section of our local Shopko and bought size 16 jeans. I still have those jeans. The whole time I was shopping, I kept thinking that people were looking at me, judging me, wondering why I was in the regular section.

I got kind of paranoid.

That is my biggest fear on this journey. What if all that weird thinking comes back. What if I get so uncomfortable again when I get below 200 and people talk to me. My weight is my barrier. People scare me. I have to come out of my comfort zone and talk with people.

This is so stupid, because in reality, I am one to smile and say good morning to people in stores. I'm not afraid to visit with strangers. I can get together with friends fine, but larger groups I have been known to take a Xanax to help me get through it.

And the reality of all this, and what I have to remember, is that at 262 pounds, I get more attention than I ever will below 200. I get the looks. I get the disgust. I get ignored. I get treated like I'm stupid. I get treated like I'm a non-person. I get blown off. My neighbors have never been friendly toward me, and my husband thinks it's because of my weight. Yes, I'm the fattest on the block.

Maybe I should get a t-shirt that says I'm a bitch, stay the hell away from me. lol That could be my barrier. Or maybe I should just deal with it, use the manners that my mother taught me, and get on with life.

What do I care what others think? And won't it be nice to just fit in and not stick out like a sore thumb?

I was the one uncomfortable being under 200. Strangers didn't notice. People shopping are into themselves, and they aren't going to look at me and wonder why I'm not in the fat lady's section. I am not the center of the world.

Stinking thinking can really mess someone up. I need to figure this out before I get there, because I'm not coming back here.

It is my biggest fear, though. A mind can play terrible tricks. I need to get it together now before I ever let my mind take over.

Commonalities

As I read weight loss blogs, I am beginning to see many commonalities.

Many have anxiety issues. Many do not want any attention drawn to themselves. Many use food as comfort.

I fit all three, which is probably why I've seen that in other bloggers.

I don't want attention drawn to myself whatsoever. I had a small wedding on purpose. I like to be in things, but on the side.

My favorite place to be is in my home. I'm a hermit by choice, although I'm not quite a hermit.

I have not told a single soul I know about this blog, other than my son and husband. I have not told anyone that I am on Weight Watchers again. I don't want the attention drawn to me, I don't want the lectures that I get from everyone--the lectures basically are that I should do what they tell me, what suits them, with no open mindedness to see that I need this journey to be my way.

After listening to the lectures, I get emotional and want to eat.

The anxiety? I've got no answers for that one.

It makes me feel so much less alone, learning there are others that share my struggles. It makes me feel less weak. I shouldn't feel weak at all, because we're all different, but I think that's a societal interpretation that I have accepted.

Bottom line is this: Strangers, who have become friends, have helped me in this journey far more than the people that love me, except for my hubby and son. I have found common bonds with strangers/now friends that fill a need I have not fulfilled in real life.

This blogging business is good therapy.

Blog Therapy

I've debated doing some of my personal therapy work on a blog. On a blog where I use my real name. Good grief, what if someone finds me. The more I got to thinking about it, the more I realized that my weight is mental rather than physical. I need to deal with the mental stuff to solve the physical.

So, here goes. I need some blog therapy.

Both of my parents are gone. My Dad died a year ago last week.

My mom died several years ago. I had a co-dependent relationship with her. She was a master manipulator. I have gone 360 degrees with my relationship with her since her death. I loved and mourned for a few years, I had an awakening, I had anger for several years, then I had a realization that she was human, subject to error, and mentally ill. Now I embrace the fond memories and respect the negative.

My relationship with Dad was different. He didn't parent. He worked steadily his whole life, he provided a nice home, good food, clothes, etc. He was emotionally vacant. He was never someone I could turn to for advice, support or comfort. Yet, we loved each other. There were many things I did not like about him, while I'm sure the same was true for him. There are many things I love about him, too. Right before he died, he made a comment to me: "I didn't raise you right, you don't get along with your siblings." I don't play games and they're severe alcoholics and I call them on that--thus, I rocked the boat and "didn't get along." (I don't do anything, they instigate problems all the time.) The funny thing was, the minute he spoke the words, my thoughts were: BUT you never raised me anyway, Mom did. Ah, perceptions.

A year ago this spring, we cleaned Dad's old house out and sold it. It was tough. I mourn the house almost as much as Mom and Dad. I took some of my mom's books. Tonight, I pulled them from the shelf.

I took a couple Overeaters Anonymous books and a Fat is a Family Affair book. I had no use for the OA books tonight (because I don't have that problem, ha ha!) , so I quickly tossed them aside. I read the first seven pages of Fat is a Family Affair in the bathtub. It was published in 1985, and my mom is talking to me all these years later in that she had highlighted certain passages in the book.

After reading the first seven pages, I laughed at myself. I tossed the book aside, so I wouldn't drop it in the tub. Then I spoke out loud to myself. What did I say? Oh my God, I have a problem. lol I laughed some more. I always thought I was fat because I ate too much. Couldn't be a reason why I eat too much, just that I like food. ME? An eating disorder? Me, a problem with eating? The thought had never crossed my mind. Seriously!

Why are we the last to see our issues? At 272.5 pounds, do I not see that I have an eating disorder? I look at it as just being fat. How silly. How funny! I felt as if Mom was whispering in my ear. I needed to make that realization.

So hello world, here I am, and I now see it: I have an eating disorder.

I must say it's lovely to get a gift from mom years after her death. I am eager to read this book. I go slow with this kind of book, though, because I contemplate...the gears in my mind are always going.

Who knew, though...I have an eating disorder.

Thanks, Mom.