Will I always have to do this?

It's a funny thing weighing your food and counting calories.  I mean it's inconceivable for me to think that there are other people out there that weigh their food and record it for every meal.  I guess it's that kind of cockiness that has gotten me to where I am today.  It's almost like if I don't believe anyone else could be recording their food then it must not be happening and if skinny people everywhere aren't weighing and recording their food then why should I have to?  

A month or so ago, I reread one of my journal entries from 2005; I wrote, "Will I always have to write down everything I eat.  Will this be something I have to do for the rest of my life?"  Every time I started a new diet, I started a new journal.... I have all these journal entries that start with me being excited and ready to lose weight and then after just a few entries, they stop.  No real signs of success and definitely no sign of persistence. 

I laughed when I read that entry.  I stumbled upon it at the perfect moment.  A moment when I was down, hadn't been recording my food, and was wondering why I had to record my food when other people didn't... of course, I have no idea if other people have to record their food.  Yet, at that moment in time, I felt like the stress from life was too much to handle adding the commitment of weighing and recording food.  Stress is something that often stops me from doing the things that are best for me.  It's another element of my anxiety.   

My hubby did start making us portioned lunches, healthy and weighed for the entire week.  I loved having these meals pre-made and they tasted great.  Like all things hard, we weren't great about keeping that going consistently and besides eating just my pre-made lunch, I was supplementing heavily with candy.  Something I LOVE.... I think I've mentioned that before.  

It's easy to think you're eating healthy because you do one or two things correctly and it's also easy to eat poorly because you think you're eating healthy.  I guess for people who eat healthy all the time or 90% of the time, they may not need to record their food.  I am not one of those people who eats healthy all the time.  I like to eat healthy, but I also love hamburgers and pizza and Chinese food and candy.... ya know all the really bad stuff.  So for me, I probably will have to record my food for the rest of my life and I'm going to have to learn to stop worrying if it's something that everyone else has to do or not.  It's clearly something I need to do.  I know it works for me and that should be reason enough.  

So for now, I need to get back on the wagon.  Those 18 pounds I've gained since December aren't going to lose themselves. 

Crippled by Anxiety

Wow!  As always, I'm amazed when I look back and see how long it has been since I last blogged.  Three months is way too long.  I know this because I've been telling myself to blog for weeks... maybe even months. 

This has been a rough three months.  I have gained 18 pounds since Christmas and with every single pound I gain, my anxiety is magnified.  It's amazing what stress does to your mind and your body.  I wish that I could say that it will all be okay, but I don't feel like that's true.  Every pound gets me one step closer to that 200 lb mark and if I cross that, I think I will feel like a complete failure all over again.  

It's interesting how you can trick yourself into believing that you are confident....  I do it all the time.  Mostly, I'm trying to convince everyone around me that I'm all good.  In reality, I'm a mess.... I've always been a mess.  I know I've mentioned before that I can't handle making simple phone calls to take care of things, such as paying bills.  It's not just making phone calls to people I don't know.  I can't make phone calls to people I do know either.  

Most of my days are a war against me and my brain.  One second I've convinced myself I'm confident, I look amazing, and I can do anything.  The next, I'm breaking inside because I'm bad at everything.... I'm a terrible mom, an awful wife, an inconsiderate sister, a lousy daughter, a cruddy granddaughter, an undeserving friend.... 

More seconds are spent in the demeaning section of my brain than in the confident part of my brain.  I wish this wasn't the case.  I do notice that the level of stress with which I am faced with drastically effects my ability to think positively.  I wonder how other people live life with stress.  I know everyone has it, but why is it so crippling for me?  Why do I try to self-destruct when faced with stress?  How do I change it?  And WHY on earth does food have to be my go to?  For goodness sake, why couldn't it have been running? 

I'm Still Mad as Hell

For the past four days I've been trying to get past the idea of being contacted by a "man" for what I would guess was only one thing....

And for four days, I haven not brushed my hair, put on make-up, put my contacts in, or felt comfortable in my skin.

And for four days, I've hid my body in baggy clothes.

And for four days, I've felt like my husband was mad at me or disappointed in me (although there is nothing to suggest this).  

And for four days, I've had trouble sleeping, had trouble waking up, and had trouble being happy.

It's been a LONG time since I have felt this much anxiety.  I don't even know why I have this much anxiety.  All I know is I feel like this is some sort of evil trick.  I've been very successful over the past three years with my weight loss journey and now out of the blue, I'm finding my insecurities are all still there.  

I thought I was strong, but I am not.  I thought I could do this, but right now, I cannot.  I thought I had an alternative to food, but I am learning, that I do not!  

I'm not even sure where to go from here right now.  What I do know, I still have no coping mechanism....  What I did have, apparently, was a lot less stress in my life.  Now that the stress and anxiety is back, I am realizing that food is still my coping mechanism.  

For four days, I've ate and ate and ate.  And I've exceeded my calorie goal every day.

For four days, my life has stopped.  My home life is suffering, my work is suffering, and I'm suffering. 

I guess the good news is, I have learned a lot about myself in the last four days.  And right now I'm scared.  I don't know how to move forward and mostly, I'm mad as hell (I guess I need to put that song on repeat)!  I'm mad that I can't cope in a different way.  I'm mad that I need to cope!  I'm mad that I feel guilty and I've done nothing wrong!  I'm just MAD!

This isn't a very positive or helpful blog post, but it's raw, it's honest, it's how I feel, and it's sad that this happens to women/men every single day!  

#NoMore

Honestly, I had forgotten about this blog.  It was in the back of my mind, but it wasn't something I was thinking I'd come back to.  I didn't think it mattered to anyone and it sure didn't seem to matter to me anymore.  Then, out of the blue, my sister sends me a picture of my blog with a comment asking if I was going to be adding to it again.  Sadly, the comment was from almost a year ago.  It made me realize that maybe the blog wasn't all about me.

So, last night, I sat down and wrote my welcome back blog.  As I was writing, I realized that my blog was therapeutic for me.  And, although I thought I didn't need it anymore, it felt good to write; very good!

And the ironic part is that I needed it yesterday!  I read back through my previous blogs and I can't find where I shared about some of the reasons I believe I hid behind my fat.  Mostly men and the guilt that I had when they approached me.  So, I'm going to write about it again.... sorry if you already heard these stories, but it's a big deal to me.

Men....  I don't understand how they can be so crude and yet not even realize there is a problem with what they are doing!  My father and grandpa's could never have prepared me for what men would say or do.  Nor can I ever imagine them saying those things to a woman.  Then, I married an amazing man and I can't imagine him saying anything like what I've heard men say about/to other women.  I will KILL my boys (okay, probably just disown them) if they ever talk like that.

Imagine a gangly 9 or 10 year old girl who was raised like a boy.  My father's friends (husband and wife) used to take us to church once in awhile; very nice people.  Then, one day, the man starts talking about how he wants me to pose in a swimming suit on his sports car.  I laughed it off.... I mean I was in the 4th or 5th grade.  It seemed weird at the time and I'm not sure why, but it was creepy and yet flattering at the same time.... all the while I thought the whole thing was a joke.  It happened on multiple occasions though.  Joke or not, it's f****** creepy!  Who says that about a little girl!  To this day, I cringe when I see a woman on a car!  I don't think my father or mother ever knew about it or maybe they did and that's why they stopped hanging out with them.  I don't really
know and I never really asked.  I just wanted to forget about it; I still do.

8th grade graduation

Fast-forward to my 8th grade year.  I was 13.  I often hung out with my older sister and her friends.  She was great about including me, especially since I was kind of a pain in her butt.  Most of her friends were like big brothers and would have never let anything bad happened to me, but there is always that one creep I suppose.  Football "star," attractive, and interested.  It seemed nice to get the attention at the time.

Our high school and junior high were in the same building.  The upper floor was for the high school and then the lower floor was split, 1/2 for 7th and 8th and 1/2 for 5th and 6th.  So, every day for lunch and PE, we would walk past the high schoolers sitting on the hallway floor.  This one boy would always grab me as I walked by and tell me how beautiful I was.  I think he was a junior at the time.  It was uncomfortable for me to get that much attention, but it also made me feel a little bit better about myself.

This behavior continued and when I started high school, it was even worse.  I owned this one black dress and it had a little spring to it.  Whenever I wore it and would walk by, he would pull it so it would fling up.  I'm sure everyone thought that's what I wanted, but I didn't.  I tried not to wear that dress except for on volleyball or basketball game days (I didn't own a lot of dresses).  He would corner me often too and tell me how beautiful or sexy I was.  It happened a lot of game days.... even in the gym.  Always with the touching.  He had a girlfriend at the time.  She just didn't go to our school.  Who know's if he did it to others.  I still feel creeped out when I think about him.

The following year, that boy had graduated and I was starting to gain a little confidence.  Then, one day while riding the bus home from some sporting event, another boy began to take over where the other boy left off.  This time, I was armed with more confidence and tried to shut him down quickly.  However, these boys are persistent and they think it's okay to touch you to get your attention.  This awkward relationship (him trying, me freaking out) continued until he graduated.  Over the summer, I saw him alone in the bar.  I confronted him about everything and asked why he was out without his wife.  He wasn't really in any condition to talk, but I am still mad at him for thinking it is okay to touch women without their permission.

Throughout high school I struggled because I never believed anyone could really find me attractive.  I was average at best.  I didn't really fit in with the popular crowd and I didn't really fit in with the nerdy group.  I was just in the middle and I tried to make everyone happy and be friends with everyone.  I didn't want to be a mean girl.  Many times, boys would ask me out and I would think they were joking.  I always turned them down because I thought it was all just a big joke to them.  I never saw the worth of myself.  I really only dated one boy and that was though peer pressure I thought.  I truly believed that I pressured him into dating me and then I won him over with my personality (that boy is my husband of almost 19 years).

There were other isolated incidents in high school where I felt uncomfortable or like I could be taken advantage of at any moment, but they were single events.  Never as persistent as the three people I focused on.  Still, nothing I would wish upon my daughters or anyone for that matter.

Source

10 years past graduation, I was 28, and had four children (the oldest one was 9, youngest was 3).  I was a stay at home mom and probably going through the toughest 5 years of my life (my weight was somewhere around 220).  Through no fault of my husband, I felt alone, ugly, fat, overwhelmed, and unwanted.  One day, I posted a survey on MySpace and someone from high school responded to it.  It was weird.  Then, out of the blue, they asked me to send them pictures of myself and like an idiot, I did.  Immediately regretting my decision, I told my husband shortly after.  He was devastated, I felt awful, I was a terrible wife and I had made him feel like an inadequate husband.  When really, my issues of self-worthlessness stemmed from inside me.  There was nothing he could have done differently to fix that.  It took a long time to repair what I had screwed up in a matter of seconds and one email.

As you can imagine, that was probably the biggest turning point for me.  That is where I really began to put on the weight.  I loved my husband more than anything.  I found him to be the most attractive man in the world.  And in literally seconds, I broke his trust.  I'd like to say that in the years following, I was better, but I wasn't.  I still had many days where I doubted his love for me.  It's really only been in the past two years where I haven't had a major jealousy outburst.  I think it has a lot to do with getting older and even more to do with communication.  We have learned to communicate better and talk more about what we need.  Additionally, I have a job and that keeps my mind busy.  I don't have as much time to sit around and think about him leaving me.

Fast-forward to yesterday.  The same man that asked me for pictures 10 years ago, starts talking to me again.  At first, I thought he just sent a mass message to everyone he knew, but I quickly realized it was just for me.  Then he asks if he can ask me a question.....  UH!  I've put all of this behind me for the most part and now all these feelings of anti-trust and the disappointment I caused my family came rushing back to me.  And I remember why I hid myself among all these layers of fat to begin with.



***I don't know why men act like that.  We are both happily married with children.  And yet, this past year we've heard about case after case of sexual harassment (mostly celebrities).  Every time, I think about why the girls didn't come forward sooner.... then I think would I?  Would I have let them do that to me?  Would I have been able to say no?  I would love to think that I would be strong enough to tell them that they are an idiot, but I don't know that I am.  Is it something about my people-pleasing personality that doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings?  Is that what would keep me from saying no?  And dear Lord, I hope to hell my daughters could tell these men to F*** off!  Why do we have to feel like it is our fault for being approached?  Why do I feel guilty and why do I let people make me feel this way?  Andy why do we feel like we are the only ones?

Sometimes Life Gets in The Way

Boy, I guess I've been gone for over a year!  I can't believe it has been that long!  I can't for the life of me remember why I stopped writing, but there does seem to be a relationship to the time of the year and the turn of our Country against itself.  I remember last November was incredibly tough for me.  The election seemed to turn friends and families against each other and that was all just too much for me.  I'm a sensitive person.... a little too sensitive and it's hard for me when people argue and fight.  

So, naturally, all that drama was way too much for me.  To cope, I put up my fake Christmas tree the second weekend of November.  Then, convinced my husband to buy me a second fake Christmas tree and put it up shortly after.... both themed of course.  Then, finally, during the first weekend of December, we put our real tree.  We had family over for Christmas and that helped a bit, but then the New Year came and the realization that my daughter would be moving out soon set in. 

It was January, my 17 year-old had applied to multiple college and been accepted or waitlisted to all but one.  It hurt, it hurt every day!  I couldn't imagine how I would live without her.  The last few months before graduation were the worst.  I could barely do my job because I was so stressed.  Most days I came home and set on the couch for my lunch.  Alone and sad.  It was bad.  

Quick update on what you've missed:  I'm addicted to Coke again (the cola kind), I eat candy daily (pretty much), I found Snapchat (also addicted to that), I'm trying to love my body the way it is (more posts on this coming soon), I recorded very few meals in the past year, we sent my daughter to France (with help from MANY people), my daughter moved to Arizona (I miss her like crazy, but I'm surviving and more importantly, so is she), and I'm happy.  

Really, stress is so hard on me, I can't even explain what it does to my brain.  It makes me feel like I have dementia which freaks me out even more because we lost our grandma to dementia.  Stress makes me very forgetful, impatient, my heart race, and completely exhausted!  It's not good!  

So, excuses, excuses, excuses.... Point is, last year was tough for me for many reasons.... more than I can even remember I'm sure, but I'm back.  I hope to keep coming back, to catch everyone up, and finally write about the last hike I took with my children before I go on it again!  

Happy New Year's everyone!    

**My resolution:  Record my food 4 days a week. 

What it's like to lose 100 lbs

One of the biggest reason I wanted to lose weight was for my children.  I wanted to be sure that I was healthy enough to be around for a long time and that I'd have the opportunity to see my grandchildren grow.  I also didn't want to embarrass my children.  Although they would never admit it, I worry that my children will feel embarrassed when their mom doesn't fit the seatbelt on the plane or can't quite squeeze into that ride at Disney Land, but more importantly, I worry that they'll be embarrassed when they have to stop and wait for their mom to walk up the stairs to their school or barely fit on the seat at the school concert.  It's really the day to day struggles with being fat that makes it hard to be a good parent or at least one that doesn't embarrass her children.  

The timing of my healthy living movement was really based on my anxiety around my children's embarrassment.  My oldest daughter graduates in 7 months and I knew when I started this journey that I only had about two years to get down to a weight that wasn't embarrassing.  I wanted the spotlight to be on her, not on whether or not I could get up and down the stairs to watch her graduation or her friends finally seeing me and thinking about how big her mom is (WAS).  With 7 months to go, I have about 60 pounds to lose before I meet my overall goal, but honestly I'd be thrilled with another 40.  The problem is, as I have posted several times in my last few posts, I'm not currently losing weight.  

The bigger problem is, I kinda secretly hate my new body.  So, I don't hate it when I have clothes on
and I don't hate the fact that I fit into my son's coat or my daughter's jeans.  I don't hate being able to buy clothes out of the women's section or that my shirt size is large.  I love all of those things.  It makes me feel like me again.  I do however, hate that my boobs are smaller...a lot smaller.... One day, my daughter said to me, "I thought you weren't wearing a bra because your boobs are so much different."  I might be able to handle smaller boobs if they were a little less flimsy.  I feel like I could fold them in half.  I've always been busty and I'm still not small chested by any means (not yet anyway), but I have no volume to them and that makes me sad.  I hate them!  I don't feel sexy or beautiful because I can literally see folds of skin when I look into my bra.  Lots of folds.  

While my breasts are kind of a big deal for me, they aren't the only body part I hate.  My stomach, although it used to be similar in look (mom apron), it is a lot softer.... I don't know how else to describe it, but it has no bounce back.  I push on it and it's just floppy.  It's gross.  Oh, then there is my hips....  The skin just folds over there too.  Oh, then there is my butt.  Ah, I'm happy to not have a butt growing on top of my butt (you know, the extra hump that seems to grow at the top as you get heavier and heavier), but I had that it has not rigidity.  Another body part that folds over.  My arms are flappy too, but I guess I'm okay with that because I don't remember ever being happy with my arms.  Although they are flappy, at least they are smaller.

I'd love to be happy with my body and love me for me, but I think I was better at that when I was heavier.  I was okay with my big butt because it was firm.  I was fine with big breasts because they were solid.  Now, everyday I face a body that grosses me out.  I don't feel sexy for myself or my hubby.  I know that when I lose my next 60 pounds that it will only get worse.  I wonder what body parts will I start to hate then.  It's hard for me to be content with my body and want to lose weight when I'm not happy with the way that I look at the end of the day.... or beginning.  I'm not trying to make any excuses, but I think I'm self-sabotaging because I can't seem to find peace with my current body.  

On a side note, but also important to me, I feel weaker.  I used to think I was strong.  I could lift things, move things, and generally do things on my own.  Now, I can't and it is frustrating.  

Time to start building muscle and toning up this flabby body.  I just worry about how I'll handle it emotionally if I don't get the results that I think I should have.  And the anxiety returns and my drive to improve dies.  

The Other Stress of Parenting

You'd think that writing a blog would be the easy part of this journey, but apparently it's just one more thing that I can use lack of time as an excuse as to why I don't do it.  As I mentioned in my last post, I understand the importance of blogging to my success and yet, I still haven't done it in over two months.  It's not the only thing I've made an excuse for in the past two months.  I haven't recorded a full days worth of food in my food journal or bothered to actually exercise in that time either.  While I'd like to analyze why I haven't taken the time to do any of those things, I think I need to start by getting out my excuses for not doing it.

You see, I'm a teacher which means my year runs from late August to mid June.  When I think about the start of the new year, I'm not picturing a New Year's celebration on January 1st.  Instead, I'm picturing organizing desks and classroom supplies, decorating walls, planning lessons, and trying to memorize 90-100 new faces.  So, when I look back at my life (at least since being a teacher), I see it in chunks of time that go from August to August.  And this is important because when I talk about last year vs. this year, I'm talking about my life in school years.

Last year at this time, I was still fairly fresh on my life changing journey to become a better - healthier me.  With fairly little effort, I had lost 28 pounds.  Also, I had changed schools and I had found my new position, although still full of challenges, to be rather refreshing and relaxing in comparison to my previous years.  While there were still the same struggles with day to day life, I was not overly stressed.

Fast-forward a year later and I'm stuck in a rut.  I feel the pressure of this school year far more than I did last year.  This probably means I'm a better teacher this year, but I also know that means I'm taking a larger toll on my body, soul, and mind!  My year started out strange as I was the most experienced math teacher at my grade-level department meetings.  There is a weird strain that is placed on a person in that position (or maybe I placed it on myself) to be a leader and help others to be successful.  So, instead of worrying about whether my classroom was a success or not, I'm worrying about the success of almost everyone in the department.  There are some other factors that have added to my stress at work and will continue to be there as the year progresses.  I think that's true in any job though.  Still, I've never been good at managing stress.  I have a very strong "flight" mode when I feel stressed.  And I think, "flight" might sometimes mean eating away the stress or drinking away the stress.  I'm not much of a drinker, but during very stressful years, I will find myself drinking a few nights a week where as on non stressful years, it might be a few times a month.  Mostly, those things are masking the real "flight mode" that I feel I need to take: quitting my job.  Without those crutches, I don't know how I would have ever kept working.


In addition to a stressful start to the school year, it is my oldest daughter's senior year of high school.  Everything costs so much money and right now, I am so thankful that my dream to have twins never came true!  Besides the cost associated with being a senior, there is the added stress of her leaving for college.  While I worry a lot about where she will end up, I worry more about her facing rejection.  I know that she will not be accepted into every college she applies for, but I don't know how to help her through the disappointment of not being good enough.  I sense she will handle this better than I ever would have.  Which is probably why I never applied to go to college.  I fear she has put so much pressure on herself that she will break and I won't know how to help her.  I never dreamed about what my daughter would be when she grew up.  I didn't picture her as a doctor or an actress or a pilot or anything.  All I ever wanted for any of my children was for them to be happy and choose a path that makes them happy!  And now, as I know the time is coming to set her free to find what truly makes her happy, I worry that she may never find happiness.

Oh, yeah, and did I mention that she's headed to France this summer and we need to find a way to pay for that without making her feel like she is a burden on our family....

Then, there is my son.  He LOVES football.  He has played for three years.  His first year he thought it was alright, but he didn't really know if he wanted to keep playing.  However, something happened in the offseason his first year and he began to really study the game.  Since then, he has worked hard to get better.  Still, his coaches haven't been great about giving him the recognition he deserves.  He is a great kid and makes hard choices to do the right thing even when his friends aren't and yet those same friends are the ones the coaches idolize.  I want them to see him as the hardworking leader he is, but instead they seem to ignore him.  It has been so hard for me to keep my mouth shut and not point out the good things they haven't given him credit for (tackles, sacks, fumble recoveries, covering multiple positions for injured players, being at practice daily, working hard, being a positive role model).  I coached for the last three years and I made sure every player felt like an important part of the team.  And sometimes that meant encouraging them to show up and be there for their team.  This boy is there everyday at least 30 minutes early, he is the first one to the huddle, he never messes around, and he seriously studies the game on his own time.  Yet, he can walk right by the coaches and they don't even say hi.  They never say hi to me.  They completely ignore me or act like I'm not a mom.  After three years with them, I am thrilled to be done with these coaches, but man their lack of understanding about what it means to be a TEAM and the importance of family had been a HUGE stress for me this season.  Their season ended a week ago and I still wake up in the middle of the night irritated and thinking of all the things I want to say to the coaches.  The stress of knowing that my child doesn't feel valued is unbearable sometimes.  I don't know how to overcome this kind of stress either.  I know that there will be times in all of my children's lives that they won't be given credit for what they did or they won't be valued or accepted as they should be, but at 13 everyone should feel supported and important.

Now, I have two more children who have had great coaches and the stress that I feel for them to be valued or accepted is currently much smaller, but that isn't always the case.  Why didn't anyone ever tell me that the real stress of parenting - the very, very hardest part - would be seeing my children's hard work and effort devalued, watching them fail, and having them believe they weren't good enough?  How can this be fair?  I can only hope that we have provided them with enough love and support to feel valued even when someone else can't see their worth.

And so, these are stresses that are keeping me awake at night.  These are stresses that put so much strain on me that I can feel pressure in my chest.  These are stresses that convince me that I need to quit my job and stay home.  These are stresses that keep me from making healthy choices.

While they are still just excuses, I know, feel, and live the authenticity of these excuses every day.  To some, I know, they will seem minimal and conquerable.  To me, they are not.  I don't see an end in sight, I can't look past them and move on.  These are things that heighten my anxiety and keep me from being happy.  I know that I need to find a way to be healthy and take care of me first, but like every time I've started something "for me" in the past, I just don't see how my health/happiness trumps my children's.

Where's the Fire?

Well, it's been awhile since I've blogged, but we did make it through our backpacking trip.  Someday I'll write more about it, but for now, I just am happy to be back to blogging.

The trip was good, but it did kind of mess up my eating schedule/recording my food and once again made me lazy.  In addition, once we were out of the woods, we stopped to eat and I ordered a pop....  So, I also broke my year long streak of being soda free.  

Probably the worst thing is I haven't recorded a full days meals since we left for our hike.  As a result, I haven't lost much weight.  This last week though, I tried to record my food a little more regularly and get back into my good habits.  I'm just doing what I can right now, but it did help.  I had only lost three pounds in the weeks leading up to last week.  One week back on the wagon (sort-of) and I lost five pounds.  So, I know how important recording my food is, yet I still don't want to do it!  

In many ways, I am disappointed with myself for not recording my food after only 4 days without internet access.  I am also disappointed with myself for drinking pop here and there since our trip.  It doesn't taste that good and it makes me feel funny!  Still, now I seem to be missing my willpower to stay away from it.  I haven't resorted to ordering it, but I do steal sips from my hubby or kids when they have it.  

Another sad thing is I lost a lot of my support people around the same time I quit logging in and recording my food; not literally, but in the sense that they no longer log onto our food recording system.  That's tricky because if you don't feel like anyone is watching it's very hard to hold yourself accountable.  Realistically, I know that I'm doing this for me and I'm my best motivation, but it does something to my brain not to have people "thumbs-up" my status when I log my food or enter my weight loss.  I wish it didn't matter, but it does.  I've even logged in with my husband's account and wrote myself an encouraging note.  I need to find another way to make it appealing for me to login and record my food.  That seems to be the best way for me to lose weight and so I have to find something that motivates me to keep doing it.  I guess that's why I'm back on here today.  

I know my blog isn't read by everyone or even very many people, but I need to be accountable to more people.  I have to make time to blog and share where I'm at in this process.  I have a long way to go and I can't let myself get in the way of my success.  I need to find my fire, my passion, my reason for being happy!  I hate that I let things wear me down, make me feel depressed, and keep me from reaching my goals.  Why do I always feel like quitting when things don't go the way I expect them to or when I fail?

Today, I am 2.2 lbs away from losing 100 total pounds!  I'm so close to that major milestone, but I have a long way to go.  My goal for this week will be to hold myself accountable and to take it one day at a time.  I'll try not to give up when/if I fail...that will be the hard part. 

Backpackers Ready

Last weekend, we spent an entire day preparing our packs for our tri-annual backpacking trip.  Our packs have been filled and weighed and our route has been chosen.  Our destination is clear and our hearts are ready.  We leave in a couple days and I couldn't be more excited to see this country again and show it's glory to my two boys.  I hope to someday be able to do the same with my girls. 

My worry now is that I won't be strong enough to make the trip.  I have a lot of excuses as to why I might not be strong enough, but for now, I'm ignoring those and pushing forward.  Still, the thought of letting everyone down weighs on me a bit, but not as heavy as last time.  Instead, my focus turns to my children.  I worry that we won't bring enough food for the boys and that they'll be hungry and malnourished.  I worry that they won't find it as amazing as I do, but in my heart I think they'll enjoy the beauty because we have always taught them to do so.  I hope that they find it peaceful and challenging, but not overwhelming.  I'm sure they'll be fine, but I want them to have the best experience possible.

For weeks now, I've watched my hubby try to hide his feelings about this trip as not to sway my decision to go one way or the other.  However, this past weekend, I could see his excitement as he sorted through all of our gear, prepared our fishing bag, and helped the boys understand their packs.  Nothing makes me happier than seeing him excited about an adventure.  He goes into a different mode when he's preparing for something and it's really cute.  His excitement is a good enough reason for me to make this trip whether my mind thinks I'm ready or not.  

This time, we will be going for a shorter amount of time so we were able to pack less food.  Currently, my pack weighs about 20 pounds which is great, but we may have to make some adjustments before we actually leave.  As of now though, things are looking great.  I'm about 80 pounds lighter than the last time I hiked and my pack is about 10 pounds lighter.  I'm hoping all of this makes a huge difference in my speed and stamina.  Instead of taking most of the day to get to camp, I hope to do it in about three hours.  However, it stresses me out a little to put a time frame on it.  The goal is to get there, the time is a bonus. 

As the day approaches, I have begun to feel more anxious.  I know I could have done so much more to prepare physically for this trip and yet part of me wants the scenarios to be similar so that the main difference is how much weight I've lost.  It's more than just a trip into the peaceful mountains this time.  I want to know that passing up all those donuts, skipping the dessert menu, ordering salads, losing all this weight, and working so hard is worth it.  I already know how it's changed my day to day life, but I want to see if it's changed my quality of life.  And, putting all this pressure on me to perform drastically better than the last time is probably unhealthy, but I want to know what I can do today and I'll never know until I do it.  We'll see how my mindset changes once I'm actually in the moment, but for now, I hope to see big things.  Either way, this will be another emotional trek.

What's That You Brought With You?

I left for my parents yesterday morning.  This time, I brought my scale with me.  I probably should have left it at home, but I need that reminder to stay on track and I guess if that means dragging my scale along for the nearly two week trip then, so be it!  

I know I won't be able to use it on our backpacking trip, but the other days I can.  I know I've written about my scale before, but for me, it isn't so much the amount I weigh everyday, just that I am doing it.  It's probably one of those things that someone could label, but I prefer to think of it as a security blanket.  It gives me peace of mind knowing I didn't gain 30 pounds overnight or that if I eat something I shouldn't it won't kill me (at least not immediately) and that I need to forgive myself and move on.  Weighing helps me with that. 

Still, I must find some guilt in weighing daily and even bringing my scale along or I don't think I'd write a whole blog post about it.  I guess now, I need to ask myself why I feel guilty and should I?  Sometimes, maybe, I look into my feelings and actions a little too closely.  On the other hand, maybe not looking close enough is what allowed me to become secretly obese in the first place.  

And, sadly, I wonder if I will ever stop second guessing myself?  Will I ever just be okay with things the way they are or is this something I need to go through to heal?  

Popiversary

http://thisishowyousonic.com

Today marks the anniversary of the day that I gave up pop - my popiversary.  It's weird to think back to a time when I "needed" pop to make it through the day.  Oddly, I still have those moments (like last night) where I really want a soda, but they are pretty few and far between.  I don't know what causes it, but you'd think that after a year without something, you'd just kind of forget about it.  I guess that shows you how addicted I was to it.  

This addiction started in high school, I think.  I used to drink a Coke at school or share one with my boyfriend (now hubby).  It was the one bad thing I did for a very long time.  And, since I wasn't drinking or smoking, I used that as an excuse to continue to drink soda (a lot of soda).  I switched to diet probably 14 or 15 years ago, but that didn't stop the weight gain.  In fact, it probably made it worse.  If there aren't any calories in it then you can have as much as you'd like....

I know I've written before about giving up soda after reading an article with Russell Wilson and that was a big factor, but it wasn't the only factor.  I'm not even sure what the other factors were on this day a year ago, but I do know how it started.  I was headed east to visit family for the week when the kids and I stopped at the gas station, as always, to grab snacks and drinks and instead of grabbing a pop, I picked up an iced tea/lemonade drink.  It wasn't bad and I didn't miss the soda.  Once we arrived at our destination, I realized I hadn't had any soda that day.  Instead of reaching for one, I went shopping for Vitamin Waters so that I could make it through the week without being tempted to drink a pop.  I figured if I could make it though a week on vacation without drinking soda then I could make it anytime.  I don't know what it was about that day, but I guess the timing was perfect because I haven't looked back!  

I remember when I had made it a month without drinking soda and I was so proud of myself... actually, I can remember when I made a week, then two.  After that first month though, it seemed to get easier.  The worst thing for me was seeing it in a glass.  The ads just before the movies made it incredibly challenging for me.  I recall sitting in the movie theater and closing my eyes so I wouldn't see the Coke ads.  The bubbles rolling up to the top made me crave it, but shortly after it was gone, I'd forget about it.  I had the same problem at home when my husband would pour a drink, but if he used a cup that wasn't see through, then it wasn't a problem -- luckily, he had no problem making that adjustment to support me and later giving up pop himself.  It was hard to go through a drive through and order a water when everyone else was getting a soda.  Usually once we drove off I'd be fine, but sometimes it would make me sad for quite awhile.  It feels like you're being left out and that makes it really hard to stick to the plan.  I made it through the tough times by telling myself, "I don't drink pop!"  Sometimes I needed to repeat it more than others, but just knowing that I was choosing not to drink it and that I was in control helped.  

In addition to celebrating the first week, second week, and month of being soda free, I also celebrated making it three months and six months.  After that I sort of forgot that I had ever even drank pop.  So, it is a little weird for me to be writing this to celebrate a year without it.  However, I think it's important.  I had contemplated this day for the first several months of quitting this habit.  I once thought, I'd celebrate once a year with a glass bottle of Coke and now that the day has arrived, I don't even want it.  While it might seem trivial to celebrate giving up soda, this is really what started my whole journey and I can't imagine making the decision to be healthy without ditching the soda. 




Tip #5 - Choose a bad habit to give up (just one) and challenge yourself to see how long you can go without it.  You might surprise yourself!

Dressing Room Saga Two Doors Down

I continued my search for the perfect (or at least one that would fit) bikini top yesterday.  This time, we headed to the mall for more variety and I was certain I would find it somewhere.  The biggest challenge has been finding the swimming suits.  It's mid July and apparently all the inventory is gone.  It seems crazy that they wouldn't stock their racks better.  People wear swimming suits all year around, but I guess they don't like to purchase them in July.  

Of course, once I did find the swim suit section, there was very little to choose from and even less for busty people.... In most stores, I haven't found a single bikini top that would fit anyone who wears a size D or larger.  After the first store, I decided to move on to stores that I knew sold plus sizes.  

I found myself in a Torrid dressing room with two bikini tops and a tankini.  Neither of the bikini tops were all that attractive, but I was hoping they'd at least fit.  Sadly, neither of them would hold the girls up -- looking for a little support here.  I moved on to the tankini, it wasn't what I was looking for, but it was cute.  As I posed (smile and all) for a selfie in the flamingo adorned top, I heard the woman who worked there usher two more people into the dressing room just down from me.  Then I heard her ask someone if she was okay.  I heard another voice respond, "She's just sad.  She went to Victoria Secret because they were supposed to be having a big sale on swimming suits and nothing fit her."  The next part was mumbled, but I heard her finish with, "She leaves for Idaho in two days."  Before the salesperson left the dressing room area, she told assured the woman that it would be okay and they would take care of her.  After she was gone, while sobbing, I heard the woman say, "I don't think it will fit past my hips."  She continued to cry as the person in the room with her offered her support and encouragement.  I wanted to stay and see how it ended, but I was done and needed to go.  As I walked out of the dressing area, I saw a mother and younger child searching the sparse selection of swim suits in hopes of finding one that would work for her daughter, the one in the dressing room who had been crying.  I never saw the person in the dressing room so I don't know how old she was.  It hurt me even more to think that this might be a teenager struggling with her weight, her self-identity, and her self-worth.

The scene was all too familiar for me.  I too have found myself crying in the Torrid dressing room.  The people who work there are amazing and I'm sure they helped the girl/woman feel better and I'm hoping they found her something to wear on her trip.  Still, trying on clothes is a scary thing for anyone who's a little overweight (or a lot overweight).  I felt so much pain for the person in the dressing room next to me.  Why can't heavy people just go buy something off of the shelf?  If America is really that fat, why don't they have more clothes for fat people?  It's especially hard when you need a specialty item like a swimming suit, but right now, I can't even find a pair of shorts.  The other issue is that clothes for skinny people are generally cuter.  I picked up two "identical" bikini tops yesterday, one was a size XL and the other was a size 16/18.  The XL (which by the way is probably a C cup) was super cute, but the 16/18 had been modified and wasn't cute at all.  I left Torrid empty handed and heart broken for the person I left crying in the dressing room.  I'm starting to think this search might be harder than I thought and maybe I just need to wear my bra!  At least it supports me and looks cute.  

I've LOST a Whole Child!

At this point in my weight loss journey, I'm usually not too afraid to step on the scale.  While it still seems unreal, I have lost 90 pounds in the past year.  I've also lost two inches off of my neck (crazy huh!), 6 inches off my hips, and 13 inches off my waist.  I wish I had taken measurements of my other body parts.  I know at one time I had that all written down in one of the weight loss journals I had started, but I guess I gave up on that and finally threw it away because I can't find it anywhere.  I'd love to know how much I've lost off of my thighs and arms.  I know I've lost something off of my calves because regular boots fit, but I have no idea how much.  

To help put my 90 pound loss into a little more perspective, my husband likes to compare my pounds lost to my eleven-year-old son.  He weighs about 87 pounds.  Chew on that for a bit!  Yeah, I've lost an entire child -- an eleven-year-old child...a sixth grader!  For that, I am grateful.  I am proud!  And, most of the time I am happy.  I've packed him around on my back a few times and really, it doesn't feel like much weight.  Still, I know that 90 pounds off of my back and knees is a great improvement.  Not to mention my resting heart rate is now around 56 beats per minute.... Athletes are between 40 and 60 beats per minute.  Also, my blood pressure is really good.  So, not only do my clothes fit better, but I'm doing something that (hopefully) is making my quality and length of life better.  Still, I've got a ways to go and I'm not losing sight of my end goal just yet.

For the most part, I find myself enjoying every day.  I find ways to get out of the house as much as possible, which is hard for me because of my anxiety, but if I just go do it, then I'm usually okay.  In addition, I like to look at clothes.... I wouldn't go as far as to say I like shopping, but I do like to look and daydream about what I might look like in certain outfits.  I brave the dressing room a lot more now too.  Despite the fact that many of the clothes I pick out still don't fit, I try not to let it bother me too much.  

I'm currently on the hunt for a bikini top and some shorts.  This has proven to be challenging.  It seems like they only sell bikini tops in youth sizes....  Or that's what it looks like when I try them on.  If I was going to use Doritos to cover my boobs, I'd do that!  And, at a fraction of the cost!  I get it, you don't want girls without a tiny frame sporting a bikini, but I'm not going to wear it for the whole world.  I just want something comfortable to wear around family... you know, the people who won't judge me.  I'm not giving up.  I'm going to find it, it might cost me an arm and a leg, but I'll find it.

In addition to the bikini top, I've found it hard to find good shorts.  I don't quite understand why a size 18 is not always a size 18.  Why aren't there standard sizes?  Tonight I picked up three pairs of size 18 shorts off of the same rack (same brand) and one of them was much larger than the other two pairs -- like three inches bigger.  Of course, I tried on the larger ones first and they didn't even fit comfortably.  This confuses me because I have a size 16 pair of jeans that fit me great.  How in the world can we make girls feel good about their size if they can't even figure out what size they are?  

I think part of the issue for me is that sometimes the clothes are "juniors" and sometimes they are "womens."  Why is a size 18 in juniors different than a size 18 in womens?  Or how do we make it more clear so I know what size pants I'm trying on before I get into the dressing room.  It's really very frustrating.  I think there is also a plus size 18.....  JUST FIGURE IT OUT PEOPLE!  Quit messing with our heads.  

In short (ha, ha - get it - shorts), I'll continue to search for shorts and keep trying them on no matter what.  I can't let little things get to me.  If I could realize I was obese for short periods of time and then forget about it, I can surely feel crummy about not fitting something for a short period of time and then forget about it.  And, really, I think it's more important that I feel healthy physically and mentally then worry about what size pants I'm wearing.  

Until tomorrow.  

Envy

So the other night, I was scrolling through Facebook and saw this post from an old friend.  I read through the comments and recognized someone I hadn't seen since about the 5th or 6th grade (maybe before that).  I tend to think that I don't forget about people, but this person hadn't crossed my mind for 20 years.  I went into total stalker mode -- Facebook is good for that.

After going through several of her photos, I realized she's still got "it."  Sadly, I was not happy for this 36 year old woman who seemed to have a pretty great life and the body/looks to match.  Instead, I went into total judgement/comparison mode and ended in a jealous-anxiety fit.  Immediately, I go into thanking my husband for marrying me (and I am very thankful for that) and spouting off depressing things about him not having the opportunity to find someone better!  WTF?!  I mean, I was fine! FINE! five minutes before that.  Proud of the life I have, the marriage I have, the kids I have raised, the career I've chosen, the weight I've lost....

This crazy behavior proves that although I'm "working on it," I still have a long way to go!  The good thing is, I was able to fall asleep and actually sleep.  The better thing is, I woke up refreshed and thinking why in the world are you comparing two totally different lives with one another?  I think this is progress.  This is something that could have brought me down for quite sometime.

I'm about to make a judgement/comparison/jealousy statement (admitting you have a problem is the first step - I think):  I am so envious of some of my friends who lead their lives full of happiness and love for others.  I try to do that, sometimes I think I do...maybe I need to give myself more credit, but these people amaze me.  I love them to pieces because they look at the world with an open mind.  Although I pretend to do this, I'm not as good at it as I'd like to believe.  I think deep down (maybe not that deep), I feel like if I open up to this person or that person, I might get duped.  Maybe they don't really like me, they're only pretending, and then someday they'll attack (whatever that means).  For this reason, I keep a guard up....  I cannot remember anyone ever doing something like this to me, but I remember feeling like this as far back as grade school.  This seems quite demented and makes me wonder why I have this strange fear.  

In high school, this boy kept asking me to a dance - so often it was really annoying.  I never said yes, but I probably would have if I didn't think that he was joking.  I thought it was just a prank.  He was a good friend and I liked him as a person, but I really thought there was some surprise ending that was lurking in the shadows if I said yes.  Why?  What would make me think that?  It's surprising that I said yes when my now hubby asked me out the first time.  It's probably because the risk was worth the reward.    

I think the woman on Facebook reminded me that I'm not the only lady out there.... Seriously, sometimes I forget.  It makes me question if I'm good enough for my husband; which is just awful and he's never treated me as if I wasn't.  It's just another irrational fear that I can't figure out where it stems from.  It's like I think, if he sees this woman and sees how hot she is then maybe he'll wish he had dated her instead.  Sad fact, I've deleted people from my Facebook page because they were too pretty....  What it the hell is wrong with me!

I'll take the small victory of being able to let it go quickly, but I wonder if I'll ever be able figure out what causes me to react this way.  Maybe it doesn't matter what causes it, only that I fix it.  Now, how do I do that?

To Hike or Not To Hike

So, this summer marks the three year anniversary of our last backpacking trip.  Oddly, I knew this time would come.  It was three years between our first trip and our second trip and as summer was approaching, it just seemed like the time was right to take the trip again.

I've spent the last two days recollecting the last two trips and while the visual walk down memory lane was magnificent, the physical thought of repeating that hike is far less interesting.  The whole experience is something that is so hard for me to describe, it's something you have to experience for yourself.  

While the total distance may not seem like much (some people actually do this as a day hike), the elevation change is intense and the physical toll it takes on a body is crushing.  I lost my big toe nails after both the previous hikes and while the blisters were better on the second hike (thanks to new boots), they were still there.  

Still, there is something inside that is pushing me to go.  I want to know how much easier it will be after losing some weight.  Yet, I'm scared that it won't be any easier and I'll still feel as though I'm going to die and letting others down.  I've been thinking about this for months and I'm still having a hard time making the decision to go.  My head goes back and forth between hiking and camping.... If I just want to go camping, that's a whole lot easier.  However, my heart wants to be back up in those mountains.    

As of Wednesday, we are leaning towards going.  In fact, at this point I'm going to say we are going -- we've started a packing list so that's a pretty good sign it's going to happen.  This time though, both my boys want to go.  It will be interesting to have them along.  They worry about me and my physical capabilities a lot.  I've noticed this more as I've become more active.  I don't want them to worry about me on the hike.  I just want them to enjoy the walk and take in the beauty and hopefully, they'll find a love for backpacking and continue to do it long after their time with us.

Our current goal for the hike is to take two or three days to hike and still travel nearly 20 miles.  I'm not sure I will be able to do it though.  We've never done it in that little time.  If you set a time frame though, you have to stick to it because you have people waiting for you and no way to contact them until you're out of the mountains.  Also, you only pack so much food.  You don't want to carry more weight then you need to.  So, if we say we are going to do this in three days, we have to do it in three days.  The time frame also worries me because once you're up there, you want to see as much as possible.  There are so many lakes you could visit and with that short time frame, we won't be able to make it to very many places.  Still, the adventure will be good and anything you get to see up there will be worth the trip.

Anxiety is going to cause me some grief over the next few weeks as I stress about all of the things that could go wrong and all the ways I might fail, but I'm not going to let anxiety keep me from going.  I need to know how much of a difference weighing less will make - if any.  I'm still worried about how hard it's going to be and what will happen to my mindset if I don't find it any easier.  

Backpacking at 294 Pounds

In 2013, my husband, his friend, and I set out to hike through the same mountain range as we had hiked in 2010.  This time though, we were taking a different path and planned a trip that would cover 30 miles of terrain in six days.  The idea of hiking this area again was unbearable.  Before when we had hiked, we had spent the months before preparing by working out at the gym - something we didn't do this time.  Not to mention, adding 20 pounds to my weight didn't encourage me any either.  Still, after many conversations and debates, I said I would go.  I did this only for my husband because I knew he wanted to go again and I also knew he wouldn't go without me (we're a team that way - a package deal if you will).  This time, we would be travelling with one of my husbands best friends from high school -- an avid hiker.  Last time, I was worried about failing my hubby, but this time, I was worried about failing them both.  

Determined not to die, I hugged my dad at the trail head and thanked him for the ride, before strapping into our packs and taking one last photo.  I tried to think of an excuse to get me back into that pick-up, but nothing was coming to mind and I knew my pack contained communal gear.  With hesitation and fear, I cinched down my straps and began the walk to the trail.  Before long, we were out of site and into the woods.... This was happening again.  

When we hit the fork, we took the left this time, which in someways relieved me a bit.  It was a new trail, a new path, and gave me hope that I may be successful after all.  We hiked for hours, this time slower than the last.  With each step, I knew I was holding my other party members back.  I wanted so desperately to be able to keep a good pace for them, but knew that I couldn't do it.  In the distance, our final resting place could be seen for miles and each hour that passed seemed to push the mountains further away.  The new trail was gradual and provided beautiful scenery.  I could imagine the Nez Perce camping in the glacier-carved valley next to the calm creek that flowed through it.  Their tipi's spread out, children laughing and playing, and horses grazing.  I imagine it would be a wonderful place to live for the summer, high above the world and so peaceful.  This daydream kept me going for quite awhile.

Within a mile or so (I was too tired to know for sure) from our first stop, I became overwhelmingly exhausted.  I was ready to quit, but my husbands friend charged ahead, dropped off his pack and returned to pack mine the rest of the way.  This was my first defeat.  I had failed both my husband and his friend and embarrassed myself.... I literally couldn't even pull my own weight.

By the time we made it to the first stop, I was beating myself up pretty bad over my inability to make it on my own to the lake.  Although the guys were awesome, I knew that I had slowed them down by several hours and it was only day one.  We made camp, enjoyed the stars while laying out on the rocks, ate some food, drank a little whiskey, and settled in for the night.  

The next morning, we packed up camp and headed down the trail, through the same rocky hillsides we had passed through before, but this time, we pushed on past the beautiful lake where we had camped before and made our way to another valley where we made camp.  Then, we hiked to the bottom of a mountain cased with granite boulders.  This is where I would leave these two as they ventured up this insane slope to a lake at the top.  Still exhausted from the hike the day before and the one that morning, I slowly found my way back to where we made camp.  Here, I rested in my hammock until the boys returned bearing fish.  I spent the next half hour or so weaving a small basket to cook the fish on.  The warmth of the fire, the taste of fresh fish, and the conversation was enough to make me forget about my anguish from the day before.   

The following day, we headed over the mountain and rested at a lake we had never seen before.  It's always hard for me to describe how incredibly beautiful these places are, but every time you see something new up there, your jaw drops and you realize how small you are in this big world.  It stops time and allows you to enjoy the beauty of nature.  This lake was no different.  We made camp on the other side, fished for hours using grasshoppers we caught along the shore, and slept soundly under the starlit sky.  

On day four, we made our way around the lake and crossed a creek before heading down the rocky trail.  Our packs were slightly lighter and our lungs were adjusting to the altitude.  We followed the gravel path for quite some time before I stepped on rock and twisted my ankle.  My hiking poles kept me from falling all the way to the ground and helped me make it the remainder of the way down the path.  When we reached the bottom (and more lakes), we sat, took our boots off, and did a little bandaging.  We also did a lot of contemplating.  Here is where the trail split.  To the right, the path we planned on taking.  To the left, the shorter path....  For the first time since day one, I knew I was holding everyone back and I didn't want to be the reason the trip was cut short.  I wanted so desperately to finish the 30 mile trek that we had planned, but the boys chose the shorter path.  I knew it was because of me (they were both fine), but they would never say that was chose the shorter route.  

Sadly, we marched to the left and headed down the mountain.  On the trail, I silently took blame for ruining the trip that was planned and I knew I let everyone down.  To make matters worse, the clouds rolled in and rain fell.  The proximity of thunder and lightning put a sense of urgency in my step and I booked it as fast as my legs could go.  We made it to the meadow where we were able to set up camp just before the down pour.  Eventually the clouds parted and we were able to enjoy our last night in the mountains; although, the guilt in my heart was heavy.

On our final day, we packed up camp one last time and headed down the same path we had exited on three years before.  This time though, it didn't feel as triumphant.  Instead, I anguished in pain as I reflected on my failures.  I was certain this would be the last time I made this trip.  I was just too big to do this kind of thing.  Choosing the path to the left was almost as bad as being rescued; I just wanted it all to be over.  As we made our way down the trail, past the river, and saw the lake signifying we were near the end, I couldn't help, but be a little proud of what I had accomplished.  Although there were mishaps, there were also plenty of reasons to be pleased with what I was able to do at 294 pounds.  

Emotionally, this trip was quite different than my first trip through these mountains.  I had little faith
in my abilities and yet, I also knew that there weren't a lot of 300 pound people even attempting this feat.  I wanted to be strong for the two men that were travelling with me, but I wasn't nearly as strong as I had hoped.  It hurt so much to see myself as a failure in front of these two and taking the short-cut didn't help, but I doubt they ever saw me as a failure.  It's funny how differently we perceive ourselves from the way others see us.  Three years later, I can look back and see how they might have seen my journey as an inspiration, not a failure.