Milk & Cookies

To sound totally basic, I did a thing.

Well, I, actually, did a few things.

To dive right in. I cannot deny that I am incredibly overweight and I am not fit enough to be the mother I need to be to my Sweet Girl.

I was tired of feeling the way I felt and I wasn’t going to lose the weight from my stress eating without help.

I know that nothing changes, if nothing changes.

So I saw a commercial for this app and signed right up. My cheapass even bought some DNA kit, which, in hindsight, was probably a total waste of money. BUT Sleep-Deprived-2am-Me felt like it was a solid investment.

THEN, because I signed up at 2am, I completely forgot that I signed up. Fast forward a few days and I was like, “why is this company emailing me?” I finally opened the email and was like “DUH! Oh man, I hope I can get my money back.” But then that little voice inside my head, the one I usually leave bound and gagged in a the back of my mind, somehow managed to get the gag loose enough to be like, “Let’s at least try the free trial?”

ANNNNDDD sooooo here I am on Day 3 of an 8 month commitment to lose 80 pounds.

SAY WHAAAAAT???!!!!

Then.

Because I am an all or nothing kind of badass (or moron).

I also signed up to do a Hotworx session. Again, just a free trial because I truly don’t know what I am getting myself into. If I survive, I’ll join.

What’s that saying, “Go big or go home and sit on the couch and eat Milk & Cookies?”

Mmmm Milk & Cookies… Ooops, sorry, where was I?

Saturday at 10am, I will be at Hotworx, in an infrared sauna, doing yoga in 125 degree heat!

TF am I thinking? I can’t even blame that on Sleep-Deprived-2am-Me.

If I survive, I may just write a blog about it. If I was braver, I would make a video- but I am not.

If you have read any of my blogs it has been a rough year+ and there is no doubt that I was eating my feelings. I hate to admit this but I am the heaviest I have ever been.

I have talked to a few different fitness experts/coaches and they want to go balls to the wall and if my daughter didn’t have Epilepsy and I wasn’t fighting depression and PTSD I may have been ready to put my balls to the wall but as it is my balls will remain off the wall.

I am ready to make healthier changes and I believe my WHY is strong enough but I feel that this will have to be a slow journey.

One other thing I agreed to do, I agreed to see a therapist and my first appointment is Thursday.

Again, nothing changes, if nothing changes. I feel that between writing this blog, going to therapy, using this new program, and POSSIBLY attending Hotworx classes that I will find a way to be the full mother-package to my Sweet Girl.

Cheers to change.

Brave Girls Can Cry

Epilepsy continues to be hard. It saddens me to think that this illness consumes so much of our lives. We became a family of 4, myself, my husband, our daughter, and Epilepsy. Our lives have changed and I know there are so many more changes to come. Some of those changes we already know about, such as starting her on the Modified Atkins Diet and possible brain surgery and/or an implant but most changes will be unknown.

I continue to write as a weird form of therapy and because I genuinely hope that this helps make the experience easier for someone else. Because… maybe this pain we feel might be more tolerable if we knew that we helped someone with our story?! So, I write. Sometimes I publish but most of the time I delete. I delete because there’s a part of me that feels like people don’t want to hear me “complain” or I think that maybe people will think that I have given up hope? I don’t know; but, these are the thoughts that pop up in my head.

A few months ago, I was getting certifications in both Cannabis Coaching and Life Coaching and I was creating plans to really broaden my horizons. Now. Now, I am crying when ever I think I can squeeze it in without anyone catching me or calling me on the phone, mostly in my car or the shower. I don’t think about my future, I think about each day as it comes, minute by minute, that’s all I can do. When I think about the future, I get overwhelmed.

I have aged. Wrinkles that weren’t there 6 months ago are there now. I look tired all the time. I have gained a ridiculous amount of weight because I eat my feelings (and I have a lot of feelings right now).

There are many things I wanted to do with my life and there were so many more things that I wanted to do with my daughter but, right now, that’s all on hold. It isn’t a “never” but it is most assuredly a “not right now.”

I wanted so much for my sweet girl. It hurts me to think that these seizures are her new normal and that her day is dictated by “avoiding triggers.”

I am grieving for so much and I am incredibly angry. However, what I am feeling is nothing compared to my daughter who has had her life altered so drastically with no explanation as to why!

My daughter doesn’t get to experience a “normal” teenage life and as someone who was already special needs- this makes her feel even more different. It breaks my heart because she doesn’t understand what is happening.

I try to hide my feelings from her. I don’t want her to see me upset and think that this is her fault because it is not. When she was in the hospital she kept blaming herself. She said “my brain is stupid” and “I wish I didn’t have this brain.” It took everything in me not to break down. I want to be brave for her but my soul aches.

She cries a lot and I no longer pat her back and say, “there, there” and tell her everything will be okay and to dry her eyes, like I would have before Epilepsy when her problems were less… well… soul crushing.

No… no, now I hold her and let her cry…

I tell her that I love her with my whole heart and soul. I tell her that I will always fight for her. I tell her that I will do everything I can to find answers and solutions to this problem. I tell her that I will raise awareness so she can feel safe in the world. I tell her that it will not be easy and I ask her to be my beautiful, brave girl.

And, I tell her that “brave girls can cry.”

Supermom

I have something Dark within me.

I try my best to ignore the Darkness. I tell the Darkness it has no place in my life and I remind myself of all the light I have within me. Most days that is enough to keep the Darkness from enveloping my soul.

I have battled this Darkness for 20 years and right now my resolve is wavering.

A few years ago, I made a promise to myself that I would no longer fight this battle in silence and I started writing about it and posting it to my social media. To this day, I have kept that promise.

You see, I feel that when I publicly address my depression, I give my depression no room to hide. I force my depression out into the light where it has to answer for itself. I take away it’s power over me.

So, unlike most everyone else with a mental illness, I battle mine out loud.

One by-product of battling out loud is that I am frequently called things like “brave” or “Supermom” for choosing to speak when so many remain quiet. However, I really don’t like it. I don’t feel brave or like Supermom and I am doing this for my own selfish reasons.

I am not brave.

I am scared that the Darkness is right about me.

I am scared that I belong in the Darkness.

That I deserve the Darkness.

I am coming up on the 1 year anniversary of my life turning to shit, starting with my health, then a few hard financial blows, then my daughter developing a seizure disorder, followed up by some more hard financial blows. Currently, I am writing this from my office wrapped up in a big blanket, hot tea to the left of me as I am sick with pneumonia. What next?!

But as I sit here, and try to divine what to say, I struggle.

I am drawn to the Darkness.

I feel the pull of the void, but I won’t answer.

The Darkness grows restless inside me.

This “Supermom” feels like she is locked in a room of Kryptonite.

This false warrior is not brave at all.

My composure and my delicate grasp on my depression are falling apart. I feel like I am broken in a 100 different ways but I haven’t shattered yet… but the slightest bit of pressure will cause a collapse…

I have openly talked about my use of cannabis/CBD to treat my auto-immune disease as well as my anxiety. I definitely believe in the healing powers of cannabis. However, in this case, I waiver. I am not sure if I can get myself out of this on my own (like I have done in the past) and I don’t think there will be enough CBD to help either.

While at the doctor for my pneumonia check up, my doctor brought up that I had gained weight and that my smile didn’t touch my eyes. I told her about my life stressors and she brought up going back on Wellbutrin, an antidepressant I am very familiar with.

I accepted the prescription but I have not filled it.

Filling it would be me admitting to myself that I am not okay…

Like I am now…

I am not okay.

I have always said that I am my own worst enemy and admitting that I am not alright to you is one thing, admitting that to myself is entirely different.

I need to give myself the Grace I would give others but I am not there yet.