my world.

where do i begin?

it’s september. and i haven’t been writing. but constantly have a voice in my head urging me to find a computer stat or pen and paper and let the words just flow. but by the time i get there, it’s too late. i’m tired or worn out or already emotionally drained and don’t have enough left to put it all into words.

i need to be more intentional. set one day a week at least where i write. i need it. but for now, i”m here…and let’s just see what comes out.

today i find myself in a bit of an emotional bind. a bit stressed and unhappy with several things in my life. actually, we could go across the board and pick a topic and i can argue one thing i’m not exactly satisfied with in that realm. i hate that. i hate being negative. but deep down, i naturally have that tendency to dwell on bad stuff. that tendency to let life pull me down. and usually right when i begin to lose my breathe and i can’t tread water any more, i snap out of it or find a grand reason that keeps me grateful.

let’s see if i can break anything down. i might just use this space as a makeshift therapy sesh if you all don’t mind.

i hung out with a guy a bit ago. a guy who i was sure despised me. literally. yet, the night we found ourselves in the same space he kept talking to me and spurring the conversation. until hours later it was him and i chatting about all the things. life, depression, what makes us tick, political affiliations, hopes, goals, dreams…everything. this guy i assumed hated me seemed to have some sort of a soft spot for me. and after he told me he “knew” where i lived, i felt like he had been watching from afar…which was weird because i rarely saw him..like never. well life happens and he seemed to not be very interested…until today i saw him driving in front of me as i turned onto my street to go home. his ex and daughter live next door to me. how’s that for ironic. maybe that causes some hesitation…although either way, he could have not disappeared the way he did. which then only makes me wonder what is so wrong with me that someone could do that?! c’est la vie.

next.

so i started yoga. it’s been great. and there are a bunch of reasons i am so glad to be doing it, and mainly the big ones — my body could use some extra love; i didn’t realize how well my body would react to the core and strength training that didn’t involve weights (think: easily lost 6 lbs without even trying); then there’s the whole “accepting and appreciating your body and what it has to offer day in and day out;” oh and the “no comparing to others” thing…yea, those. Those might be bigger reasons why I threw myself into yoga. Practicing 3-4 times a week. Because lord only knows how badly i need to love myself and my body. but here’s the thing…the more i am told to accept it and love it…the more frustrated i get. why wasn’t i dealt different genes. why do my feet supinate so extreme? why is it that i don’t know what it is like to live without hip pain. why does my body actually hurt monday through friday (on a good week!)?! why can i lift all the weights but not my body a graceful position? ok. so why? because God gave me all this to work with. and it’s my mission to make peace with it. but how easy is that after literally hating my body for 30+ years. literally. it’s not an easy thing to end a 30 year war. it’s extremely hard to change perspective and mindspace and change the thoughts. I am slowly, but it’s not easy. it’s an internal fight. it’s tough to be nice to myself when i still don’t like what i see. will i ever like her? jeez, i hope so.

lately i’m trying SO SO hard to work on me. to find the tools i need. to be the best version of me. to stay in my lane and look inward and know i’m on the right path. but somedays i feel it gets even worst.

the voice in my head somedays sounds louder. or the obsession with food and working out is there more often. if i didnt sweat for 3 hours, it’s not enough. 3 hours?! that’s how much i worked out as a top athlete. my body is starving for time off but my mind refuses to entertain that idea. days off..hah! you’re sore…run it off…you’re tired, get in the gym. yet when a friend comes to me tired, sore and injured — i tell them to listen to their body and be ok to take some time off.

it’s exhausting.

i think that’s why it’s so tough to me ┬áto get back here and write. it’s literally exhausting. exhausting justifying it in my head. if i eat that, will it be ok if i just hit the gym ONCE today?! can i get away with just a few miles of a run…what if i didn’t get cardio in?! my head is a mess.

i was talking to a friend the other day and it all started coming out. how i’m trying so hard to make peace with my body but sometimes it just feels like all i’ve done is illuminated my weaknesses. and then i get frustrated.

i had so much more to say but i think this is where i end it today.

be the change. appreciate what you hate. trade expectation for gratitude. your body is a blessing…try and remember that.

xox.

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Happier Fat?

Ok, that’s a vague title.

I’ve had a bit of an off week. I haven’t been writing for whatever reason. I haven’t found…scratch that, made the time. That’s the actual reason. Which is kind of a bummer because over the past few weeks I’ve thought of a lot of things to write on. But either way, not beating myself too much about it…here I am.

So aside from not writing, the past week or so has also handed me a few challenges. I strained my calf (the same spot that I tore almost 4 years ago when I was over exercising). I came down with a nasty cold (maybe the flu?). And yea, that was enough to throw me off. The calf thing had been building up and bothering me now for well over a month. And I had been run down and exhausted so I guess getting sick was also imminent. So I battled this week.

Monday, I wasn’t feeling great, but as I almost always do, I told my head to stop complaining, suck it up, and deal with it. I dealt with it in a way almost no one else in the world would. I ran 2 miles then hit the gym to do 100 thrusters and 100 hand release push ups. Normal, right? My head was killing me by 4pm and I dragged myself home and into bed where I remained for the next 24 hours.

I allowed myself a sick day, loaded with sleeping and rest and fluids and then gave myself said pep talk on Wednesday and got myself back into work. And back into the gym.

Despite not being able to breathe. Or taste. Or function without a throbbing headache, Thursday ran about the same as Wednesday.

By Friday, I was so excited I made it through the week. Went for a mile run to test my calf for the big run I had planned all week for Saturday and hit the gym hard, blowing my nose every 5 minutes, but completed my WOD and accessory work and was proud to have successfully made it through a tough week only giving up one day off.

And by Friday I felt like I had some swag back. I also felt like I was leaning out and doing good work in the gym and since I’d been sick, I was proud I didn’t really eat too poorly. Except by Saturday, I realized I didn’t really eat at all.

So let’s fast forward to today. Saturday. After taking almost 2 weeks off from any long runs, I was so excited to lace up my shoes and hit the pavement. It has been raining, so I planned this one perfect. Post-rain, it would still be wet but not too cold. I woke up without my alarm, made coffee, drank a glass of water, ate some eggs and got dressed. Threw on an ankle brace, compression sock and calf sleeve and was stoked to get going. I parked, picked my pandora station and I was off! The goal was between 5 and 6 miles, but I was hoping my body would be able to handle 6 no problem. I hit 3 miles and was ecstatic to turn around. Until, bam. I gingerly stopped. My right hamstring just balled up into a tiny pretzel before my eyes. Wait a minute?! What?! My fucking right hamstring is now giving me issues? You have got to be kidding me. I stopped then and there, unsure of what to do, with tears welling in my eyes not from the pain but the mere fact that I might be facing another injury. Unsure what to do, I crossed the street and started pounding my hamstring with my fist — I probably looked insane, but I have pretty tight legs and my mere pounding wasn’t even beginning to loosen them up. I started going through every hamstring stretch I knew…as sweat is pouring from my body. And then it hit me. It’s 85% humidity right now. I didn’t drink nearly enough water yesterday, let alone this morning and I sure as hell sweat most of it out in my first 3 miles….

I stretched and started my walk home. I figured I would be fine if I could somehow lengthen the muscle and get it to unknot. Jog. Stop. Stretch. Walk. Jog. Stop. Stretch. Walk…By the time I was a .75 mile away from my car, I jogged and told myself I could make it, I’d be fine and the faster I got to my car the faster I could hydrate and ice.

I made it to my car and inhaled 40 ounces of water like it was nothing. And my body wasn’t full. Then and there I realized despite all the warning signs to slow down and take care of myself all week hadn’t worked. Then I realized that eating one solid meal a day for the past week hadn’t worked. Then I realized forcing myself into a day off hadn’t worked. And then I realized how my head has been a bit more of a mess than I thought lately.

What’s the point of telling you all this? All morning I had been so proud of the “baby abs” I am starting to sprout. And how lean, but strong, my legs are looking. And how I did 5 pull-ups without assistance this week on a week I was sick. And how I felt like my core has been tightening. And my boobs might be shrinking. And my shoulders are looking stronger. And how I hadn’t over indulged at all all week. These are all the things I was so proud of. And yet my body was screaming at me.

I had a conversation with my sister the other day explaining to her how I hadn’t had anything pumpkin yet because of how many carbs and sugars are in everything. I love pumpkin. I love fall flavors. She said “I don’t care about carbs.” Is it bad that somedays, for some moments, I wish I didn’t either. I wish I could eat that brownie without feeling guilt. With remembering that life is a balance. I wish I could remember the last time I had a sandwich, with bread. I wish I knew the last time I had ice cream that didn’t have sugar alcohols in them. The only pumpkin items I’ve had have been sugar free. I swear I wasn’t like this a year ago. But I also swear I didn’t have “baby abs” a year ago too.

It’s frustrating. There are many days my head obsesses over what I will eat, when, where, what happens if I go out, what if I want to drink and no one has sugar free mixers, what if there is only beer and I don’t want all the carbs, what if we order pizza and that’s all there is to eat, and more importantly, what if i DO eat a cupcake or cookie or brownie?!…these are things that constantly rotate in my head. And then the next day it’s all about how many miles do I need to run to fix that mistake I made by eating that brownie, and is that going to be a hard enough or long enough workout, and how do I get my cardio in if I can’t run, and how many miles can I run after work, or should I hike, or maybe a trail run or HIIT sprints might be good, but I can’t tonight how will I fit that in if I have an obligation at 6pm. It’s exhausting.

While I know I wouldn’t be happier where I was 60+ pounds ago, somedays I wish my inner fat kid could just take over without my inner fit fanatic always being present. And the thing is, I know I need to find the balance, and I know that takes work. It doesn’t just happen one day. I need to practice it. One cookie won’t ruin a workout. One brownie won’t ruin a month of hard work. Run because you love to run, because you love the time alone and you love the sweat. Not because you ate pizza last night. Or had a beer. Or three. Hit the gym because that’s your version of therapy. And you love growing new muscles and being strong and looking strong. Not because you need to punish yourself for a day or two off. Or for not eating clean the day before.

Time to work on letting go a little because truth is…

Life is a mother fucking balance.

xx

when will you love yourself.

One of the biggest reasons I wanted to start writing again was to hope to cope with some internal issues that have seemed to flare up. Mainly my body image issues as well as my negative internal voices.

I work in a position where I am in the public eye. I’m not a trained actor. No one has ever really taught me how to do my make up or hair or speak correctly or what not. But I have personality and I smile big and I love what I do. I’m on social media and youtube and my face and body is out there. So today when I got the comment, “She’s ugly as hell” it hit me hard. Like the rest of them.

All week I have been happy and feeling pretty good about myself…but in that instance when I received that message, I was quickly reminded how ugly, fat, dumb, pathetic, gross, etc. I am. While everyone reminds me “that’s not real, that’s not the truth,” I beg to differ. My boss pulled me aside to let me know he could tell the hateful comments have been getting to me. Yep. They have. Sadly in that moment as I fought the tears back, I realized why they get to me more than anyone else…because I believe them to be true. It might as well be one of the voices saying it to me. As my boss explained how much he sees I have changed physically over the past 3 years and how I work harder than anyone he knows and am in better shape than 90% of the world, it’s so hard to pat myself on my back for that…I mean, I’m just trying to be better each day. While I realize I’m so far from perfect, some days I just want to be done with the day and have someone tell me I’m beautiful and perfect just the way I am.

Why?! Why can’t I love myself? Why can’t I get there? I have hours of greatness — where I feel completely in control of who I am and love *almost* every ounce of her. I look at people and wish I had their confidence or ego even. Why do I believe them? I have friends tell me I’m one of the most beautiful people inside and out and all I feel is that I’m one of the most broken people. I talk about embracing the “glorious mess” that I am, but it’s hard. I mean, I embrace it 100% but somedays that consists on dealing with some self hate.

I’m not actually looking for answers because at the end of the day I know I need to work on these things. And I do. And I have. And I know no one can love me enough for me to love me. But I just wonder if it will ever happen?

And on the complete opposite side of the coin, people that go out of their way to be mean, hateful, and plain rude are assholes. What makes you feel the need to RUIN someone else’s day? Newsflash, we are people. It effects us. It hurts. Shut the fuck up and don’t say anything if you don’t have something nice to say. And while you’re at it, send me your Mom’s phone number or email so I can call her up and see if she taught you that or if you’re just a royal jerk.

And with that, I’m off to spend an evening with my ladies, let go of all the bullshit and hate swimming in my head and enjoy the evening.

xox.