family, friends, Life, Uncategorized, Weightloss

The Facebook Post

“Are you still watching what you eat?” “What did she eat for Thanksgiving?” “You don’t want to gain any of that weight back, huh?”

Those are just some of the comments I get on the regular. Listen to me when I say I eat what I want when I want. I don’t restrict myself, but there are also many things I don’t want to eat and it’s not because they’re unhealthy. I just find myself preferring healthier options and not being as satisfied with a piece of cake. I find myself preferring to eat at home and not at restaurants. I just eat differently now and choose to fuel my body in a better way. Friday I stopped to eat my lunch at 230. My mom said, “You’re eating again? Didn’t you just eat? What was that if it wasn’t lunch?” It had been three hours since I ate and what she was referring to was my first snack. I eat five meals a day (breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner) and trust me if I don’t eat you probably don’t want to be around me. I’ve worked and I continue to work extremely hard. Some days are easier than others and honestly the last 6 months have been the easiest and it’s getting easier. What I’m eating and when I’m eating is constantly observed and talked about. It’s something that makes me uncomfortable, but it’s also something I understand. We all know what we need to do to reach our goals. It’s a matter of putting what we know into our daily routine. It’s about forming habits. You’re either ready to start or you’re not. Either way, it’s okay. That girl in the first photo knew one day she was going to change her life. She honestly knew it. But she knew that day wasn’t THE day. Next time you judge someone by what they’re eating and how much of it (healthy or not) take note and maybe stop and think about why you’re making judgments or making comments. I can guarantee it has nothing to do with that person and everything to do with your own insecurities. I honestly pay zero attention to what the people around me are eating. I don’t care. I care about what I’m fueling my body with and my body alone. Ps. I didn’t mean to mean mug in that picture. 😂 I just finished a hard Thanksgiving Day workout and my face was still half frozen. Haha

Advertisements
Standard
Depression

Where I’m At Now: Part 4

img_7067

Looking back on the last few years is strange, hard and sometimes unbelievable to me. I can’t believe how much I was able to grow mentally when I was taught the right tools, when someone started asking me the right questions. The last few years made me who I am today. I’m still taking my medication, but the plan is to be weaned off it. It might not work. I might be someone that just needs that little extra help. It also could work. It’s something I’m nervous to try and something I’ll write about when I do. I don’t sit down for therapy anymore, but I do have check ins with my psychiatrist. When it came to the Cognitive Behavioral Health therapy there wasn’t anything I needed to work on or needed help with. I out grew my sessions. However, I have thought about sitting down with someone once a month or so just to check in with myself and clear my mind.

I’ve mentioned I do not regret moving into that apartment and I still don’t. However, I now know that the friendship I had with my roommate wasn’t meant to be. That friendship was so strong because my mental state wasn’t. You allow toxic people into your life when you are beaten down. You allow yourself to be treated a certain way when you don’t care enough about yourself. I no longer feel like a failure. If I want to buy a house in a few years, living with my parents is the best option. It allows me to save money and to have my school loans paid off before I start looking at houses. That is far from failing. I also don’t regret that 5 second relationship I was in, because I learned so much about myself. Both of those things ending was really hard and losing people in your life is always hard. As for the relationship I could probably write a book about what I did and didn’t get out of it, but that book is for me and me alone. All I know is that I grew so much in that short period of time. I surprised myself and even if that relationship continued and thrived I would have put that person above everything else. I would have put everything into caring and loving that other person. I needed to love myself before I could have loved anyone else to my full potential. He would have been number one and I need to be number one.

I’m still not listening to music. I only turn on music if it’s carefully selected from my phone and it took me months to get to that point. Music is still a trigger for me. It takes me back to memories and people I no longer have. Things I still don’t want to revisit. Music is really important to me and when I’m in a relationship or a a big moment in my life I take notice of the music around me and I remember. I remember all of it. I’ve left parties because friends have played a song I told them I could not listen to. A single song. I now put what is best for me above everything else. I must put myself first or everything else will suffer. Do you think my friends wanted me to leave that party? They didn’t and I received texts telling me that, but it was what I had to do. I don’t feel bad saying no anymore. I don’t feel bad turning down invitations or doing my own thing. I’m lucky in the fact that I still have those great girlfriends around me and can even say I’ve added a few. My relationship has grown with some and has become distant with others. That is part of life though. That is part of growing.

I no longer spend days in bed. I’m not home long enough to do that and when I am there is stuff that needs done. I don’t cry like I used to. I cried for the first time a few weeks ago and realized I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried. *Spoiler Alert* I have cried since, but that is okay. I try to take a deep breath and calmly explain myself instead of lashing out at my loved ones. I now recognize when my mind starts to wonder down a negative path and I take control. I take notice of situations that will put my mood in jeopardy and I get prepared for them. I take deep breaths, excuse myself for a minute alone and leave early from events when I must. Asking for help will always be hard for me. It’s just who I am. However, I know now that asking questions and needing help is a part of life. Being put in new situations and learning and experiencing new things is a part of life. If I don’t know what I’m doing it’s okay. I don’t need to feel embarrassed or ashamed and if someone makes me feel that way then they’re the one with the problem.

I love myself now and I know I’m worth loving because I’m fucking amazing.

Standard
Depression

My Darkest Days: Part 2

img_7420.jpg

As toxic as my apartment had become I couldn’t help but feel like a failure moving back home. I cried pulling away from that dumb apartment. I wasn’t supposed to ever go back home. I told myself it wouldn’t happen. Once I left I was gone and I always do what I say I’m going to do. The months of October, November and December are a blur. If I wasn’t at work or at the gym I was in bed. Literally, in bed. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, how long I had been there, what was planned for the day, I didn’t care. I remember one Saturday in early October having made plans with a friend and just completely ignoring those plans. I was in bed that entire day. I had a four-day weekend for Thanksgiving and I only remember leaving my room for Thanksgiving dinner. I didn’t want to interact with anyone. I was tired all of the time. The anger I had felt previously was gone. I felt beaten down and weak. Every morning I drove to work I had to force myself to not turn around. I would call my mom crying from work for no particular reason. I would cry in the car on the way home. I remember one night crying myself to sleep to the point of barely being able to open my eyes the next morning. Things were not getting better.

The one positive thing I can look back on through all of this is the close girlfriends I had that were always there for me. They were always a text away. Whether it was 6 in the morning or 11:30 at night. I always had one of them. They allowed me to cry. They listened when I needed them to. They tried to lift me up and give me advice. They helped me and before I knew it I was sitting down with a new therapist. This time I was working with a Cognitive Behavioral Health therapist. I had no idea what that even meant when I was calling for the appointment. I didn’t even care. Cognitive Behavioral Health is a different kind of therapy. You aren’t just sitting in a chair talking about your problems. You are setting a goal for each appointment. You are setting long term goals. You are rerouting the way your brain has thought it’s entire life. It’s work, but it’s the most important work.

I started seeing my new therapist in December. I didn’t have goals going in. My only goal was to feel better. We only had a few appointments before my Great Grandma fell and was put in the ICU. If I thought I was in a haze before I was completely blacked out at this point. I remember very little from those days. I remember going to the hospital and getting updates from my mom during the day. I remember seeing my family that I loved crying. The men that I loved crying. I remember seeing my Grandma in excruciating pain and feeling that pain when she squeezed our hands harder than they’ve ever been squeezed. I remember trying to push through Christmas without her all while feeling her missing presence. I don’t remember driving or eating or working. I remember trying to fill my brother in on every detail before he deployed. And before I knew it I remember holding her hand as she passed away. That’s the week I stopped listening to music.

My Great Grandma was an amazing woman. She’s remembered by many as the woman who would give the finger to the camera for a photo. That’s not how I remember her. I remember her as the hardest working woman I’ve ever known. One of the classiest and strongest women I’ve known. I remember decorating her Christmas tree in the most OCD way possible. I remember her showing my sister how to alter my prom dress and guide her through hemming her upstairs curtains. I remember her moving around the kitchen cooking dinner every night. I remember her hair and makeup always being done, her nails always painted. I remember her stories, her love and her wisdom. I remember her.

After the funeral and all of the holidays were over I went back to therapy. I was asked how I was doing with the passing of my Grandma and I said okay. I always just said okay, but I wasn’t okay. I was a hollow shell of a person and I couldn’t breath, but for the first time I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to part ways with some things in my life. I had to move on and say goodbye. There is no point in holding on to people that prove time and time again they do not care about you. It doesn’t matter how much you care about them. You need to put yourself first in this situation. You’ll be the only one getting hurt in the end and I was hurt. She had me write a goodbye letter. I wrote that letter about five times. I wrote pages and pages and pages until I finally summed it up in a few paragraphs. When I read it to my therapist I cried. As much as I had cried on my own I had never cried in front of her. I couldn’t keep this cry in. Writing that letter was hard, but it was eye opening. Now that I had said goodbye it was time to work on myself. What I discovered about myself was shocking because it was never brought to my attention. I was always talking about all the people I worried about and cared about and loved in my life. I never realized that I didn’t love myself. I never realized I didn’t think I was worthy of love.

Standard
Depression

My Depression: Part 1

IMG_7525 copy

Depression is a word we hear a lot more than we ever have before. Unfortunately, if you haven’t dealt with it on your own it can be really hard to understand. When I used to think of depression I thought of sadness. Boy, was I clueless. For me depression has nothing to do with being sad. I describe depression as a form of dread, emptiness, loneliness, a feeling of not being enough, a hollow feeling. My depression started very mildly in my early 20’s and the longer I ignored it the worse it got.

I noticed it escalating in 2015. I was angry a lot, I lashed out at the people closest to me, I was unhappy in every way. It went on for a year until the beginning of 2016. I had enough. I was exhausted. I knew I wasn’t happy. I was overly sensitive to things. I was angry and mean. I was finding myself using alcohol as a way to push it all aside. I was tired of being angry all of the time. I was tired of lashing out at the people who meant the most to me so I made an appointment to get some help. If I knew then what I know now I would have never gone to my primary care physician for mental health. I don’t find PCP’s to be educated enough when it comes to mental health and a lot of them just throw pills at their patients. I was put on a mild antidepressant and told they would call me with a referral for a therapist. After a week or so of going back and forth on whether or not I wanted to start the prescription I started it. I’m not someone who likes taking medicine. It was a challenge for me to start and one I only talked about with a few people. I felt ashamed that I had to take a pill to make myself feel better. I don’t like asking for help and having to rely on a medication wasn’t going to be easy. I never got the phone call from my PCP with the referral for the therapist. So I just started to try to work through it on my own. I took the prescription and hoped that in a few months I would start to feel like myself again. Whatever that felt like.

When it comes to depression you are the only one that can help yourself. Yes, there are lots of tools out there and professional help, but you need to take the steps on your own to get that help. You need to be ready. You need to work on it yourself. You need to push yourself. You can’t get your happiness from another person or group of people. The girl I was at the start of 2016 is unrecognizable to me. She is a shattered piece of glass being held together by a window frame. Each piece of glass in that frame is a different piece of her. There’s a piece of glass that represents the sadness she feels, the loneliness, the feeling of being unworthy, emptiness, the dread, the anger. There is the piece of glass that is the guard she constantly keeps up. There is the piece of glass that doesn’t let anyone in beyond a certain point. There’s even small pieces of happiness and joy, but those pieces are surround by so many negative pieces she doesn’t even notice them.

I’ve avoided relationships my entire life. I keep a safe distance. I don’t want anyone to see me. I don’t want to be vulnerable and let someone in. I don’t want to deal with rejection or the pain of them leaving. Saying goodbye isn’t easy for anyone, but as a sensitive person it sticks with me for a long time. I’ve had to say goodbye to a lot of people and in a lot of different ways in my life. It’s never easy and it never gets easier. I used being overweight as a way to blend in to the background. As a way to go unnoticed. At this point in my life I had lost over 100 pounds and I was doing everything BUT blending in. People were seeing me. People were noticing and it was overwhelming. I didn’t know how to handle it. It was too much. I needed a change.

February 14th, 2016 I was signing an apartment lease with a friend I thought I would have forever. Starting a relationship with someone I hoped would stay around longer than he did. I was excited and motivated, but those things were just distractions from my inner battles. Fast forward a few months later and my relationship was over. My friendship had turned so toxic my home was an unwelcoming place. Things were supposed to get better, but things were only getting worse. My mental state was only getting worse. I had taken two huge steps in my life. I had taken the leap and decided to sign that lease. I thought it was what I needed. I needed out of the situation I was in at home. I needed my own space. Looking back I did need all of those things. I don’t regret it because it pushed me to make other decisions in life. It showed me what I needed to do in order to reach the current goals I have for the future. I had also taken the leap to let someone in. I let someone see me for the first time in my life. I opened up and was vulnerable even after explaining my fears and before I knew it I was sitting alone on the couch in my apartment on a Friday night thinking to myself, “This is exactly what you were afraid of. This is exactly what you knew would happen. You are an idiot.”

The weeks following that night on the couch were probably worse than I realized at the time. My days consisted of a morning run, work, gym, dinner and bed. I wasn’t going out. I wasn’t talking to my friends. I was quiet and reserved. I felt like someone took a stick and poked that shattered piece of glass in that window frame and suddenly the pieces had just fallen, broken everywhere. I felt more alone than I ever felt in my entire life. I was dealing with an internal battle I had never dealt with before. I reached out to a friend and made an appointment with a therapist she had told me about. I sat with that therapist weekly for a few months, but wasn’t noticing a difference so I stopped going. My situation at home with my roommate escalated and I had to move out suddenly to get away from it. There I was 7 months later with everything I owned thrown on my parents porch, mentally alone in every way. They always say things get worse before they get better and I was at the beginning of proving that theory right.

Standard