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?

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.

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.