Eye Opener

In the last week, much has changed, and yet, nothing really feels like it has changed at all. Let's start with the most obvious...I'm 28. While it would seem like this change is inevitable, and, in all honesty I have been 28 for just 2 days--it feels like a milestone. A year where I can really figure things out.

Next, let's talk about the whirlwind the past week has been. On August 2nd, we were victims of a tornado. Yes, you read right, a tornado. While this natural disaster was only classified as an 'EF-1' tornado, we still saw much damage to the world we know and love. The house that I grew up in is still standing. Yet, there's not the same amount of allure that surrounded what I once knew. No more trees protecting us from the summer sun. The fence that my uncle once built is no more, and everything feels, well empty. With this change, I can be appreciative, as we're all still here. It's true what they say, things are replaceable. People, are not.

That brings me to the next thing: Dad. As you all know, and have been reading, my father suffers from Congestive Heart Failure. In the last month or so, his health has deteriorated rapidly. A few weeks ago, he pretty much went into diabetic shock at GoJo's and an ambulance had to be called. He came home, and was having some issues breathing. He's been having this problem for months now. Finally, he was admitted to Advocate Condell (again) where they told our family that his heart has gotten weaker---and that our options were limited. Nevertheless there were options.

Options. It's such a simple word, and can mean so much. When I think of options, I think about the outfit I am going to wear the next day, or perhaps my meal choice. It seems so optimistic and holds so many possibilities. Yet, in our case, our options seems to be a really specific choice of words. It's a consciously chosen word...and it doesn't hold as many possibilities as one would think. After a week, they decided that really, an LVAD or external heart pump would be the best choice. So, they moved him to Advocate Christ in Oak Lawn, where he currently awaits installation. Tomorrow, is that day.

During this time, our family has really been trying to hold it together in the best way possible. Last Friday, as his heart struggled to do it's job, the rest of his organs tried to hold their end of the bargain. His kidneys began to worsen, and his breathing went along with it. It was clear that something had to be done---and so the doctors called my mother for permission to install a temporary heart balloon with the hopes that it would lessen the burden his heart was carrying. In so many ways than one. It was scary, and the way it all went down really terrified all of us. When Mom called me Friday morning, I thought that I was probably never going to speak to Dad again. When he came out of the procedure, seeing him strugging to breathe on that bed was probaby one of the scariest moments of my life. It seems melodramtic. Mostly because he was fine. The only thing I could think to say to him was, "I am not ready for this yet. I am not ready." How selfish?

As the days have passed since Friday, his kidey function has drastically improved. They moved him out of the ICU, and into the ASHU, or 'Adult Surgical Heart Unit'---which has been as sign of hope. We have received word that he will, in fact, be receiving his LVAD tomorrow. This is amazing news. It's amazing and terrifying at the same time. I am a nervous person by nature, and so, I always feel like I need to prepare myself for the worst.  Alas, in my 28th year of life, I am trying to be more optimistic. So, I put my faith in the man upstairs, and of course, I hand the key's to my dad's life over ot the doctors that will be operating on him tomorrow.

I cannot begin to thank everyone for their kind words, love and prayers. I never really understood or believed in the power of prayer until now. It's so shitty to admit, and I am probably going to be looked down upon for it, but I don't think he would have made it through without it. You believe what you believe, and that's that.

So, as I end this...and I am sure that Dad won't be able to read this before tomorrow morning, here's what I have to say:

In these 28 years, I could not have asked for a better father. You may not have taught me how to ride a bike, or spell words--but you did teach me the meaning of hard work.  While I was learning those things, you were out there following a dream and making it a reality so that we could live a life that was and has been truly amazing. You made sure we wanted for nothing. You inspired me to go to college, and when I didn't think I wanted to teach anymore, you supported my decision to move on and find something that made me happy. Most of all, you've taught me the importance of driving with the top down, you've taught me it's okay to take your car all the way to 5th gear on 120---just so you could feel the thrill of it all. You've taught me to get up when I have fallen, brush the dirt of my knees and keep going. You've taught me that I should not and cannot settle for anything less than perfect. You've taught me to listen and observe---and then take action. Your advice, has been both hilarious in it's own way, but true to a fault. It has never steered me wrong. I will cherish our fishing trips, getting lost on lakes, riding in the Miata, attempting to play Softball, Lakehurst Days, Rollo's from Ace, Sunday breakfasts, Driving to nowhere like fools without a purpose, British Accents, Music, the times you told us Evil Woman was about Mom, Tractor Pulls and so many more memories I cannot even begin to list them. I want you to know, you are strong. You are a fighter, and I have nothing but faith that tomorrow will bring good news, and the renewed sense of life you deserve and hold deep within you. Hold on just a bit longer, we have one more race to run...and when you cross that finish line....we'll all be able to breathe a little easier.

So tomrorow, is the day. The 13th of August. Excuse this blog, as I am sure it rambles, and I am not checking for grammatical errors. I am just typing as fast as my little fingers can move. Mostly because, this is the only way I can think to express myself---and also because I know that if I create positive things with my thoughts, those things can be true.

Thank you to all for everything, you know who you are.  Tomorrow, we'll just need prayers and positive vibes.

Until then....

A.

10.

Hey Baby girl!! Gosh Alex. I am so proud of you and how far you've come. You have done so much for yourself, just like you always said you were going to. I can see how happy you are and it makes me smile. I've always only wanted to see you happy and lively. You deserve great things in life and I know you are going to go so far. You are pretty, smart, goofy and so much fun! I am proud to be your friend. I love you so much! I know you are going to have a wonderful summer. You know my #, so call me!

Love Always,

Frenchy

Dear Frenchy,
I do know your number. It's been saved in my phone for over 10 years. I've often wondered who would be on the other end if I called it. I feel funny writing this response now. Mostly because you wrote this to me junior year. Precisely a year before you left us. I guess it didn't mean as much then as it does now, and that's sad. Your message, if you remember, is scrawled in silver ink, on a white page. A page in the back of the yearbook, over hundreds of people's names. I remember you saying 'I am writing my message over these people's names because I am important and they are not." Ha, your sense of humor never escapes me, not even today.

Now, 10 years later---so much has happened, and I feel like I've grown so much. Yet, in a way, I'm right where you left me. As I type now, I am sitting in the same bed I was laying in that fateful day. The same day my mom told me you were gone. That's another story, and you know it well. I'm still goofy, and I am still the same person in a way. I've grown---and gone through those life milestones. College educated. Former teacher turned HR professional. Still cautious. Still clumsy as all hell. Still nerdy. Still the same pensive Alex you knew. The girl who would drive with all the windows down just so her hair could blow in the wind. The girl with big dreams.

I suffered some setbacks. I fell in love, which didn't turn out to be so great in the end, but whatever. I gained 80 pounds. I got to the lowest place imaginable, and found a way to somewhat pick myself out of it. I opened up.  I lost myself. Which, I am working on finding again. I am working on being happy. Sometimes it is easy. Sometimes it is a battle. That's life.

There is so much I have to say, and so little time. I remember I used to write to you every single day. After awhile the need for that kind of faded. Mostly because I just knew you were with me. Or at least watching over me. And while I know you've been there with me for every milestone, I cannot help wanting to sit in a room with you for hours, just to get the smallest piece of advice. The truth is, I might seem like I have it pretty together, but I honestly have no idea what I am doing. I know what I want, but it's taking so long to get there.  I've been back to that place lately, where I see the world moving around me and it's like I am stuck in quicksand. Nevertheless, that's neither here nor there. I feel like I am a little late to the 'figuring out what you want' party. Since I'll be 28 this year, and I feel like I am in all the wrong places at all the wrong times. I know if you were here, you'd tell me not to worry about it. As everyone else does now. You would tell me, as you did in high school, that I have my own agenda. That time just consists of numbers on a clock.

You're right. Time is just time. However, I think that we often take moments within time for granted.

I miss you dearly, and I have been blessed with an amazing friend like you. We were both those weird kids. The kind of friends where if one was present, you knew the other was following suit shortly. I am thankful that I regret not one moment of our friendship. Not even the time you wouldn't give me the aisle seat on the bus. Not even the times you made me go back to the shoe store 554577555 times to find the right pair of heels for prom. Not even the time you made me sleep head to toe in your twin size bed---with your dirty flip flop feet and two pit bulls.

I write you now, because 10 years later, I've done the one thing you've always asked me to do. That's remember you. I know you always used to ask me (in your morbid way) 'Alex, if I died, would you remember me?' I used to yell at you for asking the question, and in some way, maybe you knew you would leave us early. Even so, I would say 'Of course.'

I remember you, and I always will.  I see so much of you around me each day. In Mae, and your family--who continues to blossom and grow. They are all doing their own amazing things, and I know you would be proud.

 I hope that you are with me each day. I feel it sometimes in the most subtle of ways--and even now, a decade later, I see things that make me smile--these same things let me know that you're smiling down on me. Mostly, I want to make you proud.You taught me some of the hardest lessons I ever had to learn. 10 years ago, I was just a kid. Then, in the blink of an eye, I had to sort of grow up. And fast. I had to learn how to put on my boots and move forward. I think I'm a stronger person for it---and even though I am not the pinnacle of 'tough', I'd still like to think I am pretty strong.

I want to end this by letting you know I'm doing alright. I am not exactly where I thought I would be.  But you know what? I'm okay with that. I used to think I could have this amazing ability to have everything figured out all of the time. You know, I've always had control issues. Yet, I think little by little I am learning to let go more often. It isn't easy, and it's scary as shit (yes, I swore)...but I think I am coming to terms with it. I'm not sure what the future holds, but I am hoping that I can make some good things happen for me in the next year.

Thank you for being such an amazing friend. Even though you're not physically here--I know you're with me. It's probably not always easy watching some of my paths--but hey, sometimes you have to make a few wrong turns to get to your final destination.

Thank you for being with me, always in my dreams....and I promise, I'll carry you with me, always in my heart.

Love Always,

Alex



FMR
12/17/86-04/20/05

Mind Over Matter

I once knew this woman. I guess, I shouldn't introduce her as that. She was someone very special to people that I love. She was an observer, but she also had her opinions about things. Sometimes, I felt like she had this crazy intuition, like she could read me like a book. Mostly, though, I know that more than anything, she just knew people. Or at least that's what I think.

I could go into this grandiose story about the moment in time where this woman really made an impression on me. Yet, I am not really in an overly descriptive mood. Here's the basis of it. I was at a birthday party for my friend's son. He's really more like a nephew to me. Nevertheless, at this time, I was still dating He Who Must Not Be Named. Also, at this time, I was sort of starting to gain weight. I would say this had to be about a year or so before our relationship ended. Anyway, it had to be about 95 degrees out. In the true fashion of our 'family', we went out to the baseball field across the street to play ball. Per the usual, I was uncomfortable in my skin. I wore jeans (like I still do), and chose to sweat my ass off, while I also tried not to embarrass myself by chasing the ball all out of breath.

I feel like, this time period in my life really solidified my deepest insecurities. I had been with someone for quite some time, and there was still no sign of commitment. More than that, I was overly critical of everything I did. I just didn't like me. It was evident in so many ways, and as hard as I was on myself, my other half was also critical of me in the same sense. Not that he ever full on came out and made comments about my weight, but did put pressure on me in other ways.

So, after I had come back from the field, sweaty and out of breath. I sat under the covered bench, next to this woman. I pulled my pants up, and pulled my shirt down. It was (and is even to this day) evident that I was 100% uncomfortable in my own skin. We sat there for a bit, until she put her hand on my lap, and said "Let's go for a walk."  So we did. During this walk, she told me a story, and it didn't really hit me as important until just recently.  The story goes like this--and it's somewhat fuzzy now---and I probably have some of the details off, but I'll do my best.

She told me that she had never been the smallest person in her life--but that it never really bothered her. Nevertheless, she knew who she was, and she knew that she wasn't exactly the smallest person.  It affected her sometimes, but it wasn't really top of mind.  One summer, she had gone to the beach (or something) with her husband and children---and was feeling somewhat insecure.  She tried, at every avenue to hide her body with a tee-shirt or a coverup (I can't remember which one).  On this day, her husband had noticed.  He ended up saying something to her about it.  He told her, that she was beautiful.  He told her that he loved her, and he reassured her that there was no reason known to man why she should be hiding herself.  Because he loved her and that was that. She went on to tell me that she could see my feelings.  She told me that I wear my heart on my sleeve.  That there's nothing wrong with that.  Yet, she went on to tell me that if I was feeling uncomfortable in my own skin....that I shouldn't change it because someone told me to.  That I should change it because I want to.  That no man, or woman or anyone should make me feel small.

When we finished our walk, she gave me a hug, and walked away.  I kind of stood there perplexed.  Not really sure how I wanted to process our talk.  Not really knowing where it was all coming from.  At the time, I sort of just dismissed it--and moved on. Continuing to just sort of float in the existence I knew.  Not really doing anything good for myself.  At all ever.  Just sticking to what was comfortable.

A few years ago, this woman passed away. Leaving behind a wonderful legacy. She's missed by many. She was even around for my crisis in 2012. Sadly, she never got to see the transformation I'm going through now.  Anyway, the other morning, I was in the shower, and all of a sudden the conversation just came to me.  Out of nowhere.  Like an epiphany.  In that brief moment, in that epiphany, I realized she wasn't just telling me that I had to do things for me in one way.  She was basically telling me, that I need to stick up for myself. That when I do things, I need to want to do those things. Then, I was in no position to really understand the meaning of that conversation or the story she told me. I was just barely getting by with what I was doing.

My entire life has been built on the basis that my own happiness was dependent on how I made others happy as well. To me, that's how things have worked for quite some time. You do something for someone, it makes them happy, which in turn makes you happy.  Well, not so much.  I have quickly and slowly come to realize that you can't do everything that everyone wants.  Moreover, sometimes you just (in the words of my mother) 'Plain ass don't feel like doing it.'  This realization is terrifying on multiple levels, and here's why:

1. If you don't want to do something, you run the risk of someone being upset with you.
2. Thus, in turn, you become upset because they're upset.

Well, most people would be like 'Who gives a shit?  Honestly, why do you care?'  My answer in the past was "Because I don't want to lose anyone, I've already lost enough." The answer to that "Well, if they get mad at you and won't talk to you for that reason, then they weren't really meant to be in your life in the first place."

Recently, I came in contact with a scenario, where someone insinuated that I was weak.  This pissed me off to the core.  I'll fully admit, I haven't had a bad childhood, I didn't go to war, I wasn't abused, etc...but I've been through some shit that has truly defined the girl sitting here typing this today.  Sure, I have a ton of insecurities, and yes, in the past, I might dropped everything to do what someone asked.  Yes, I sometimes still do it today---but things are starting to change little by little.

After the insinuation, I told my dad that it was really weighing heavily on me. We were sitting at Gojo's counter, and I said 'I just don't want anyone thinking I'm weak.'

He thought about it for at least two minutes, and as he sat there, with his eggs, over easy, he said:

"I don't think you're weak---I think you're one of the strongest damn people I know."

I told him that he had to say that because he's my dad.  He denied it.

So, where am I going with this?  I feel like lately, there's been nothing but self expectation. So many expectations for the future. Where I am going, who I need to be. But that's where I know I need to remember, Mind Over Matter.  Even if I am in 100 different places, and not in any one place I physically desire to be---I can make my own choices. I can set my own destination, and choose my own outcome. An outcome that is not dictated by any one person, place or thing. I can make my own decisions, and learn from them.

I feel like I rambled here---and that's okay. 5 months of thinking and not writing will do that to a person.  All the same, I think I'll end this with the notion that I continue to find my place in this world. A world where I don't always think I add much value.  I just kind of do my own thing---and make decisions as situations are presented to me. To that end, isn't that how everyone kind of lives their lives?  We're not all curing cancer, or deep sea diving, or climbing Everest.  Sometimes, the every day 'normality' of life is what truly makes or breaks the impact we leave on this world. On others.  It is with that thought, and in remembering that, I continue to just do me. I continue to learn that sometimes when I just 'plain ass don't feel like doing something' I can feel that way---and it's okay. We weren't all built the same--and if we were, it would be quite disturbing. So to you, my readers....go out and do you.  Do it in your own way.  We're all a little weird and twisted sometimes---but hey...that's the way the cookie crumbles.

A.


For GG. 

Found Out About You

Two years ago today, I stared at a computer screen full of emails at work—not thinking about or comprehending much of anything.  Two years ago today, I was (admittedly) numb. Two years ago today, I wrote my very first blog introducing you to a very sad girl, in a very mixed up place, at a very dark time.

I know that I said I would never write about this again after Little White Lies, but these two years have really changed me.  I feel that I am ready to tell you the truth about what happened (if you don’t already know), and touch on the transformation it caused within me.

In the Spring of 2012 He Who Must Not Be Named and myself moved in to a home (that was thankfully owned by him), and began renovations on something we were proud to call ‘ours’. For six months, we worked diligently to make the home our own—and I was more than excited to be on our own, starting some kind of adult life.  During that time, we were often on different schedules, making it difficult to see each other.  However, because of the job he had, I knew it would be difficult. As time went on, and work on the house slowed down, I started to notice changes that I really never said anything about. He Who Must Not Be Named worked afternoons, and would sometimes go out with people from his shift afterwards.  There would be times, I’d wake up at 4 in the morning—and he wouldn’t be home.  I’d check my phone to have a text “Hey! Went out with some coworkers, and don’t really want to drive home (or don’t feel comfortable driving home) so I am staying at so-and-so’s house.  See you tomorrow, love you!”  Most of the time, I would let these things go, but when I did say something, it would spark arguments, so I never really liked to bring it up.  I could tell, deep down, that he was disenchanted with us.  He wanted to be young—but I wanted to force something that probably was just no longer there. 

During this time, I had gained probably 20-30lbs (which, in the end would contribute to a total of 70lbs that I had gained while we were together).  I was taking antidepressants, all the while quietly dealing with the loneliness I felt every single day (since I was so far away from family and friends).  I couldn’t figure out why I was gaining so much weight, and made an appointment with the doctor to see if it was perhaps a thyroid problem.  When the test came back, everything was fine.  There was no thyroid problem.  There was a ‘me’ problem.  So I called He Who Must Not Be Named to have a conversation that we’d had numerous times before throughout the course of our relationship:

Me: The doctor said everything is okay. I think I just have to diet and exercise.

Him: Yep, that’s what you have to do.

Me: I’m really going to try and make an effort this time.

He didn’t really say much.  I know why.  We had many a conversation like this during our 6 years together.  I was always fighting the battle---and every time I made some headway, I would just let go.  Consistency had always been my downfall, and when you hear someone say they’re going to do something over and over again (and they don’t)….you just kind of stop cheering them on. We had just celebrated our 6 year anniversary the month before, and attended 3 weddings that year.  There was a great deal of silent pressure coming from me---but a lot of expectation and questioning faces from everyone else.  Every time someone asked “When are you getting married?”  I would always say “We’re waiting” or “We’re not ready”.  In the past he would always say “We’re on the 10 year plan” or “I want to wait and see how we do when I start my job (because of the difficult schedule).”  I honestly didn’t know what to say, because I was ready---and I guess he wasn’t. Moreover, I didn’t want to push the issue---because forcing someone to marry you never ends well for anyone.

The night we had that conversation, he was quiet when I got home.  I took a shower, and sat down next to him on the couch. The air in our house was so thick; you could cut it with a knife.  Sad thing is I just could feel something was wrong the moment I walked in the door.  When I sat down on the couch, he was folding laundry.  The following conversation ensued:

Me: What’s wrong?

Him: Nothing.

Me: No, something is wrong, I can tell.

LONG PAUSE & AWKWARD SILENCE

Him: **Sigh**---well, I think that we should think about taking a break to figure out where this is going.  You just, you just don’t seem happy, and I think you need some time for yourself.

Me: No, please, I don’t want to do this.

Him: I think that you just need to figure out what you want, and I think some time apart would be good.  I think we both need that.

More conversation happened after this, but honestly, I can’t remember it.  I just packed all of the clothes I would need for a week, grabbed the dog, and went out to the car.  He put my bags in the car, and said:

“I think you just need to really reflect, and take some time. I am sorry”

He kissed me on the forehead, and went back into the house.  I just kind of stood there.  Got in the car, and went to my parent’s….not really knowing where things stood.

The next day, I called the Employee Assistance Program that we had through work.  If this was on me, if I wasn’t happy, then I was going to work on myself.  So I made an appointment with a therapist.  That morning, He Who Must Not Be Named emailed me and said:

“Do you want to have lunch? I think we should talk.”

So I agreed.  When I saw him, he gave me a big hug. Told me this isn’t what he wanted, that he wanted to work things out. So, me being me, afraid to be alone, and afraid to live life without him, agreed.

No more was said about this incident after that. He didn’t bring it up. I was afraid to bring it up, and really thought it was a bit weird that he never brought it up again.  So we went back to our normal lives.

A week passed—and that following Saturday was Sweetest Day. He brought home an Edible Arrangement as a gift for me, and although I was happy, it just seemed, again, like something wasn’t right.

Monday, October 22, 2012:

It’s a brisk cold evening, and the sun is about to set. I am literally walking out of work when the phone rings. It’s him.

Me: Hi baby! How was your day?

Him: Hey. Listen, this just isn’t working. I don’t think we should be together anymore. I wrote you an email.  I want you to read it. We can discuss when I get home tonight.

Speechless, I hung up the phone with an “OK”.  So I opened the email and read.  The email was titled ‘Letter’ and was a forward from an email that he had written to himself the evening before. 

So I read….

In it, he basically said he didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore.  Didn’t know if he wanted to get married because of his parent’s divorce, didn’t know if he wanted to have children. He just didn’t know.

He then went on to split all of our assets, in a manner that he saw fit. He essentially got everything, and I got the dog (whom I love dearly).  He explained that he planned on selling the house in the Spring, and that was that. He asked to temporarily keep the couches that my parents gave to us as a gift, as it was easier for him to sell the house with the room furnished.

There was more to it.  However, the fact of the matter was, in the five minutes it took for me to read the email I realized three things:

• He’d been thinking about this for some amount of time.  It was too organized and calculated
• In 6 paragraphs, he basically summed up 6 years of our lives
• It was over. For real.

So I went back to our home. The home we shared. The home we built, I packed a week’s worth of clothes, and the dog (again), and I left. This time knowing that I would only return to pack my life up.

During that time, he called me to see if I read the email.  I explained that I would not be home when he returned from work.  At the end of the day, sitting in that house for 6 hours waiting for him to get home wouldn’t do me much good.  As always (in our relationship) he had made our decision, and it was final.

In the aftermath of all the wreckage He Who Must Not Be Named caused, I felt so many things. Two months after he emailed me, he started dating someone else.  Then a year later, he got engaged to her. Hence, Little White Lies.

I felt betrayed and taken advantage of. I felt alone. I felt discarded.  It took a good year for me to actually just let it go.  I don’t write about this now to dwell on it, and I don’t write so that everyone can know what he did.  Moreover, I don’t write so you can feel bad for me. I’m over that. I write because, I think I can finally say I’m thankful for what he did. As sick and twisted as that sounds, the manipulative manner in which he did things taught me so much about him, myself and life in general.  I found out about him, and found out about me. Everything I closed my eyes to, really came to light—and I realized that I’d been living complacently for quite some time.

There were a lot of tears. For a long time, I put the entire onus on me. I took the blame. I wondered and wondered.  Then there came a time, when I just let go.  I reasoned with myself, and realized that it takes two to make something work—and the two of us just couldn’t do it.

Then something miraculous happened. I was able to use this whole situation to create a new me. I created a woman who is no longer dependent on someone else. I’ve burned off my frustration, sadness, anger (and whatever else I’ve felt).  I’ve used it to shed nearly 50lbs. The weight of him, and the weight of it all has slowly been lifted off my shoulders---and I am not nearly done yet.  

Last month, I participated in my very first race.  It wasn’t any old regular race. It was a 3+ mike obstacle race known as ‘The Spartan Sprint’.  It was muddy, and it was tough towards the end.  There were at least 3 times towards the end of the Sprint, where I literally said ‘I cannot do this, I am too tired’.  There were tears, and there was swearing---but I crossed that finish line.  I crossed that finish line and then I hugged my friends.  I hugged Jules, and just sobbed.  Sobbed because, I did something I never would have been able to do otherwise.  I did something athletic, and difficult, and challenging.  I did it---and in a way, I showed myself (and him—even though I didn’t really ‘show’ him), that I am a completely different person.  Closer to the person I want to be. The person I should be.

After the race, I was on an extreme high.  Then it kind of faded, and my brain caught up with me.  I told myself I should have done better, should have been stronger, should have been faster, I should look thinner, should be more toned. I should, I should, I should.  At the end of the day, I am telling myself, that I need to learn the hardest lesson there possibly could be: appreciation.  Losing nearly 50lbs in a year is amazing.  It takes hard work. It takes sweat, and blood and tears and sometimes those moments of doubt.  Nevertheless, I need to learn to accept where I am at, and appreciate that if I continue on this path, I can be where I want to.  These changes I am making take time, and unfortunately undoing what I did to myself for the course of those 6 years is not an easy task. 

So as I set my sights on the future, and attempt to decide what I’ll take on next, I remain thankful for everyone that’s cheered me on along the way.  I appreciate that I can look back two years, and understand the pain I felt---but also feel thankful for it.  That pain, was the catalyst for the very person I am at this moment.  I don’t know what the future holds for me…and no one does.  If they did, I would sort of feel sorry for them.  I think Sandburg said it best:

“I’m an idealist. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way.”

A.

The Facts.

It’s been an entire summer, and I haven’t written a damn thing. I’ve mostly been running around here and there---just keeping myself occupied as much as possible.  However, in these summer months, I have learned quite a bit.  Most of these learnings are probably simple ‘known facts of life’—and I've probably learned them before (but perhaps I have been expanding upon my current knowledge).  Alas, I have been pondering the following:

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•  We are not invincible.  We are not impervious to death.  We are human, and as such, time and fate both catch up with us all.
• The damage you do to yourself---isn’t always most visible to you.  Even though you think it might be, it isn’t.  It can often be best viewed by the outside world.  Often times, you’re too late before you realize what you’ve done to yourself.  There’s always a way to fix it--to put the pieces back together…but it’s not always an easy and short road.
• Letting go is important on multiple levels (yes, I know I’ve mentioned this before).  Yet, in my opinion, letting go can help trigger a whole mess of things.  It might just start a reaction to get you moving in the right direction.

Invincibility:

I learned about death at an age where I was just old enough to fully grasp and understand the concept of a person departing this earth.  When I was in the 4^th grade, my great grandmother (who was 95 at the time) passed away.  It was the first funeral I can remember.  I don’t remember really crying.  I don’t remember much.  I do, remember that my mother made my sister and I stand next to the casket to take pictures. Which is extremely strange.  It reminds me of those old photographs from the 1800’s where you see children standing next to caskets of dead people.  Yikes.

Nevertheless, I did not want to turn my back to the casket---for fear that she would somehow wake up out of her dead state, grab my shoulder, and use me as a balancing mechanism to climb out of the casket.

I even had a wild imagination then…

At the time, I recall being more interested in the logical part of death, the preservation, the burial.  I even asked her “Mom, is Grandma wearing shoes? Does she have underwear on?” To me, that seemed like a big deal.

I suppose the concept of death really didn’t hit me then.  Nor did the concept of heaven, or angels or even coincidences that really proved someone was watching over you after departing this realm. 

It wasn’t until my 18^th year of life, that I really grasped the concept of human mortality---the idea that you could say “See you tomorrow” to someone in the evening, and less than 7 hours later, they could be gone. I suppose I never really understood how a young person could be taken away so quickly, and what seemed, so unjustly.  I felt a whirlwind of emotion at the time.  Sadness, confusion and most of all, anger.  Anger from a lack of understanding. Anger from being unable to answer the question: “Why her?”  I lived with that for a long time.  It burned inside of me like a tiny flame—never really extinguishing fully.

As time went on, and I started to grow, I began to feel guilty for being able to live life.  To age, to go to school, fall in love, graduate and get a job. Yet, all of the things I just mentioned---are part of life. Part of living as a human being. Little by little, as things started to happen to me, that burning anger, that lack of understanding slowly started to diminish.  There have been too many occurrences in my life for me to call it all a coincidence. The thing is, we're given this life for a reason, I guess.  What's taken away from one, might be passed on to another.  The undying question I keep asking myself is this:

What are you going to do with it?

What am I going to do with it?  I understand that some are here longer than others, and that's just a sad fact of life.  Regardless of that, immortality doesn't exist (something I ponder every birthday).  There's a reason we're all here breathing. So, even though we're not entirely sure of our time here--I say, make the most of it.  Not to be cliche, but Carpe diem.  Do something that matters.  Even if it doesn't matter to others, make sure it's something you wanted.     

Damage & Letting Go:
I recently had an interesting conversation with one of my best friends.  We were out drinking, and, mostly talking about the 'rating' system that guys often have for girls.  1-10, with the number (1) being on the 'yikes' scale, and (10) being on the 'outrageously hot' scale. I mean, depending on what kind of person you're in to, the rating scale is different for everyone.  Either way, we got to talking about people, and their ratings.  The entire time, I thought to myself 'Dear God, I wonder what I would be rated'?  Who knows why I care, because really I shouldn't--I guess it was the curiosity of it all.  So I asked. The answer was "7". Then he said:

"You know, Alex, I'm mad at you. I'm mad that you let go. You used to be this petite little thing, and then you got comfortable." 

Funny thing is, when he said this, I agreed with him. I wasn't even offended, and I'm not offended now. He's right, and although I talk about this all of the time, I feel like I need to reflect on the path that brought me to the journey I'm on today. 

That comfortable girl, was also the world's most uncomfortable girl at the same time. She hid under a facade in order to hide her deepest insecurities. She invested all of herself in another human, and lost any and all remnants of an individual personality. She folded into herself in so many ways---and so often. She folded until there was nothing left. 

It might seem melodramatic, and reading it back now, does sound quite melancholy in nature. Alas, I have to accept that behavior, and I have to move on from it. That's where letting to comes into play. It's also where learning comes from as well. 

From this, I've learned to become the person I am today. I've learned to accept my flaws and weaknesses---which is THE BIGGEST challenge I've faced ever. Yet, I've also learned, more than anything, that I don't have to settle with those flaws and weaknesses. I can work to remedy them. Your weaknesses do not define you, I mean, they shouldn't. Thus, to take on those pesky traits that perhaps bring you down, is probably one of the greatest battles you could fight for yourself. 

So, my advice to you, and to myself, is to embrace the weaknesses, and take them in stride. Beat them down, until they no longer matter. That's what I'm doing. 

In late September, I'll be running a Spartan Sprint. I'm scared shitless. I'm afraid of failure. Yet, when I cross that finish line, I'll probably cry hysterically. You know why? Because it's something I never imagined I could or would do. Ever. In my lifetime. I'm going to show myself differently. 

I would like you all to know, that at the end of the day, I'm something I never really thought I could be again. Happy. Yes, I said it: Happy. It isn't just a singular happiness, and it lives and breathes off of so many pieces of my life. It's me, and my job, and my beautiful family and friends. It's just life---in all it's simplicity---and it doesn't rest on any one person or thing specifically. It just is what it is. Pure and simple happiness. 

A few months ago, I wrote about the snow globe, and I said I felt as though I was running to keep up with life. Some days I feel that way (I mean....not every day is rainbows and sunshine)---BUT now I run because I want to. It isn't a physical race, and it isn't a metaphor for 'going through the motions' it's just me, figuring out who I am......letting go of the old me day by day. 

And this run---while it may be long---is an amazing journey.

Thanks for running with me----

A.

Mirror, Mirror

The mirror. It's my worst enemy, and my best friend. The other morning as I tried on clothes for work, I found myself both frustrated and happy at the same time. I've lost weight, yes. Bought new pants, yes. Yet, everything still fits so awkwardly. For the past few weeks, there's only been two true instances where I looked in the mirror and I thought to myself, "Wow, you look great. Ya done good, kid." To say this, is pure insanity---and to admit it might even be more insane. 

Two weeks ago, I journeyed to the mall In order to find a dress for my friend's graduation. I went from store to store, settling on the dresses that were on the racks. Doubting, still, that I would be able to fit, and look good in anything at a normal store. I stood there, looking in the mirror after trying on dress after dress with a look of nothing but disappointment on my face. After three stores and 6 dresses, I walked past teenage couples awkwardly holding hands and kiosk vendors, choking back the tears. All the way saying "You're not gonna cry, you're not gonna cry." 

And I didn't. I got teary eyed. Very much so. I got back to my car, and when I was just about to let it out---I realized that nothing was happening. I couldn't cry. Didn't have it in me. So I pulled out of the parking lot, and drove home with the windows down, all the while listening to "One of These Nights" by The Eagles. Now, first question is this: What 26 year old woman has this kind of reaction to a bad shopping experience? Secondly, who chooses their 'emo' song to be "One of These Nights" by the Eagles? Seriously, let's call MTV, because this drama queen needs a show. 

I laugh at this reaction to my lackluster shopping experience (now). However, in the moment, it was pretty heartbreaking. I went again the next day, and after trying on two different dresses at one store, I found one. You're probably wondering why this topic is one that I focus on often---and why I perseverate on weight loss so much. For me, losing weight has been a perpetual journey over the course of my entire life. Even when I weighed 130lbs, I always thought that my short, stubby body could use some major assistance. 

At the end of August, I weighed more than some of my guy friends. Do you know what that feels like? As I stood on the scale after my 26th birthday, I'm not really sure the number shining up at me hit home. It wasn't until I participated in the biometric screening at work, that I really felt the pain of what I'd done to myself. I opened the large white envelope containing my results, and in the section with my weight information, I saw that I was categorized as 'obese'. Obese. At that point, it wasn't even so much about the way that I looked---it was about all of the diseases that I know I'm prone to. 

So I made a decision. After everything I'd been through, and out of all the things (in my life) that I had no control of, I made the decision to change. I made the decision to work on the things I knew I could control. It's been a tough road, and I still have a long way to go. There's been tears, sweat, bruises, and emotions galore. Sometimes, I'm full of pride---like I cannot believe I've come this far. Other times, I resent the journey. Resent the fact that I have to be on this journey---resent the fact that I know I HAVE to go to the gym in order to keep this momentum going. 

Then, when I rationalize the journey, I'm brought back down to earth. I think, "God, what were you working towards when all of the bullshit went down?" The answer is simple: I have no freaking idea. That's awful! If there's anything I've learned lately, we should always have something to work towards. Even if it seems (to you) to be the most trivial of goals. 

So...to finish my story....

I had the bad shopping experience. That was Thursday. I found the dress Friday. Saturday, I decided to weigh myself. 30.4lbs lost. I'm happy----but I know I've got that ultimate goal in the back of my mind. I'm not going to push it, because all of this has happened in good time---with tons of hard work. I just have to teach myself how to relish in the fact that 30.4lbs of me, is now gone. It's like a weight has been lifted off of me. I'm not even intending to be literal here. More metaphorical than anything else. 

It's funny, I was walking down the hallway at work a few weeks ago, and someone made the comment: "Here comes the incredible ever-shrinking woman." I just laughed and brushed it off.  I am told multiple times a week, "You look great."  Now I just need to learn how to fully believe it.  That's something that only I am going to be able to do.  

Someone once told me that a person's confidence can be their greatest asset, and also, at times their biggest downfall.  Some people are annoyingly overconfident, and some people are annoyingly insecure and not confident with themselves at all.  I lean towards the latter. It's probably the most annoying trait I possess.  However, I think, somewhere, in the midst of all this, I am gaining confidence in ways that I've never seen before.  It might not

be 100% visible, and I might be taking my time to gain it, but it's slowly showing itself.  

Just yesterday, as I was running (on intervals), I thought to myself:

"You go,  you're running at 5.0 speed right now, and even though you're running intervals, and you might only be running short distance at that speed--you're still doing it."

....and I'm still doing it.  Like I said, it might seem redundant, but feel like if I don't share this journey in some way, I wouldn't be able to grow from it as much as I am now. 

So...

The next time I hear a compliment, or I look in the mirror--I might actually take it to heart.  After all, the girl staring back at me doesn't really have to be my worst enemy.  She's been to hell and back---but at the end of the day...she's just like you and me. A little rough around the edges perhaps....but always looking for the next big thing.

A.

The Girl in the Snow Globe

When I was a little girl, my Dad used to pack my lunches for me.  Thinking of it now, his lunches were both the best...and hilarious at the same time. I remember being so excited to see what was in store for me each day. What kind of sandwich would I have? Would there be anything else of interest in the box? I would open my lunch box to a sandwich labeled with some kind of name: Dog Breath, Cactus Face, Snidely Whiplash (or some kind of weird nickname).  My sister, was always 'Little Weasel'. Even as I sit here typing these nicknames out, I am busting out laughing--because if you don't know my dad, then you don't understand what kind of person he is.  Thus, you would not find these names funny.  Sometimes, Dad would write interesting bits of wisdom on my sandwich bag.  Bits of wisdom, that would only come from either him or my Uncle Greg.  Bits of wisdom that are not for the faint of heart....or someone who is about to enjoy their lunch:

"He who goes to bed with itchy butt, wakes up with stinky finger."

Yes.  This was on my sandwich bag.  Yes.  The people I went to school with saw this bit of wisdom--and were either grossed or weirded out.  That's my dad, though.  Unique in his own, Willie J kind of way...and I wouldn't trade him for the world.  Ever.  

During this time (3rd grade and on---that I can remember), my dad often traveled.  Every Sunday morning, we would wake up and go to church.  Dad would pick us up from Sunday School, take us to the grocery store--and then go home and pack.  I can remember sitting in the middle of Mom and Dad's bed...watching him pack his single, brown leather backpack.  He would often ask me what I was going to do at school, and we'd participate in random banter.  When he was finished, he'd place his bag by the front door, kiss my mother, sister and I goodbye, put his black Reeboks on...and leave.  I would stand at the screen door, wave--and watch his green Cadillac STS drive down Deerpath Road. These were the days, where I really have to give my Mother mad props.  She did everything.  Made dinner, took us to practice, helped with homework, taught me how to ride a bike.  She was a one woman act when Dad was gone...and for that she is amazing.

I digress...per the usual.

So my lunches.  When Dad did come home from his business trips, it was back to sandwich  making.  Mostly because, Mom never really did enjoy making lunches.  She did it, but it wasn't her favorite Mom thing to do.  I remember Dad's lunches around the holidays.  I'd flip open the lid of my blue lunchbox to find candy in addition to my Diet Pepsi, sandwich and chips (yes, I drank Diet Pepsi as a kid...back off me).  Sometimes, though--there would be other hidden treasures in there, along with my meal.  One day, I opened the box to find a yellow Post-It with a note scrawled in Dad's all too familiar messy handwriting.  It took me a minute to make it all out, but it was simple, and special:

Merry Christmas Boo Bear.  Have a great day. Love, Dad. 

Underneath the Post-It was a small clear baggy with what seemed to be a necklace inside.  I quickly pushed aside the other items in my lunchbox, and picked up the clear baggy.  It was, indeed a necklace.  Undoubtedly purchased in an airport somewhere. Regardless, it was awesome.  Hanging, on a red string, was what seemed to me, to be a Christmas Mouse.  He had mittens on--and a hat...but that wasn't all.  This mouse, was inside the smallest plastic snow globe.  When you shook it, everything sparkled around him; and in that moment---everything was perfect.

Now, maybe I am analyzing this mouse in a snow globe too much.  However, there's about to be some more analysis up in here---so if you're not up for it...then stop reading......now.

For many years (I would say grades 3-5) I wore the snow globe mouse necklace around the holidays.  I really didn't care what anyone else thought about my mouse.  I thought it was awesome.  When I couldn't wear the necklace anymore, I placed it in my jewelry box--and every so often would pull it out and shake the glitter around--just to see everything come alive. I'm not sure where this necklace is now. I bet it's somewhere in my storage unit---sitting with the rest of my personal belongings. 

A few weeks ago, my Dad had a severe bloody nose. It bled all day, to the point where nothing would stop it. So, with tampon in nose, I took him to the ER. We sat there for hours, as the doctor attempted multiple remedies for his bloody nose. In between these different remedies, Dad and I would banter back and forth, per the usual. He then said something (and I can't remember quite what it was---so I'll give you the basis of it) that got the wheels in my head turning:

"I can't wait to have grandchildren, so I can teach them everything and then give them back to you...."

I just smiled and nodded. Deep down inside, it broke my heart. Not for me, but for him. I've always imagined that I would get married and have children---and that both of my parents would be able to participate in these joys. Yet, here I am, just starting over. Learning what it is to be young---because I was old for so long. I'm not sure if that makes sense---but it's the only way I can explain it. 

A few months ago, I wrote about the pressures I was putting on myself to find someone and settle down. When I really paused to think about the way I feel sometimes, the only way I could think to explain it---was to compare it to my snow globe necklace. I sometimes feel that I'm that mouse. Just chillin. Stuck inside the glass (or in the mouse's case, plastic), watching the world go on around me. In that world, people grow, they find new paths, they change. In my glass world, things stay the same---and yet I continue to watch. Everything seems monotonous....until, someone shakes that world up. The quake revealing nothing but glitter. A change. Beauty. However, eventually that all settles---and it's business once again. 

So I thought about this analogy. A lot. Some of it rings true. Yet, I could compare this to the life of anyone I know. A typical day-in-the-life is not all fireworks and acrobatics. It's life, and whether I would like to admit it or not, writing this post has helped me to realize something:

I am changing. More and more each day. 

I know I want many of the things that others have: love, a family of my own...but I've also realized that right now I need to have other priorities. The world may be moving around me, but I'm running just as fast to catch up with it. Perhaps, I need to find my own pace instead of trying to keep up with the world. 

I hope that someday, my Mother and Father will be able to experience the joys of grandchildren. I sometimes feel as though I let them down when everything fell apart last year. I pray, that my dad will be around to walk me down the aisle someday---and to dance with me on that special day. But, you know what? For right now, I'm going to be young. I'm going to keep making the changes that I see fit, in order to be able to enjoy myself, love myself, find myself. 

I'm already miles ahead of where I was this time last year. At this rate, I've broken through that glass---and have hit the ground running. I've kept a little glitter, though, because what's life without a little glitter?

A.