Bodily Experimentation

I'm currently down about 20 pounds, give or take a few depending on the day and time. As long as I don't worship and take the number on the scale too seriously, I don't panic when it changes. I know my body is temperamental and I know the scale doesn't take into account the various factors that determine the number so I don't panic too much. My clothes are fitting better and clothes I haven't worn since my mom passed in 2009 are fitting and I feel pretty darn happy about that. I'm not complaining. I've got a ways to go to be where I want but I have time and I'll get there.

My workouts have suffered this week and I find when that happens, I eat things I don't want. It's an energy issue. I don't work out and my energy tanks so I crave the crappy carbs to increase my energy. Sometimes I fall victim to it and sometimes I don't. It's a constant mind game but in general, I'm winning.

I gave up the processed carbs and sugars for about 2 months and then decided to start adding some back in so I didn't feel so restricted and to test my self control. Everything in moderation, right? Maybe. For some people, I suspect that works. For me, not so much. I started to feel myself falling back into the same sugar addicted pattern I was in for years and I can't do that. I guess I'm more of an all or nothing kind of gal when it comes to this stuff.

It's not the sweets I struggle to control, which is truly a shock to me. It's the breads. Mostly the tortilla chips and tortillas themselves. I am a Mexican food addict. Is there a 12 step program for that? I wish. If so, I'd join. So what I've been doing is allowing myself these treats, mostly on the weekends when my husband is home and we go out to eat. I have, this week, tried to add a few treats now and then and I've watched the scale shift (also a bad work out week) and I've watched what the food has done to my body. And it's not been good.

First I had some tortillas and chips. After eating those, I was bloated and gassy (yes, it's my blog and I can share whatever I want, not that anyone reads this away) and felt generally miserable. My pants were a little more snug in the waist than I like and I felt sluggish. It was worth it. The problem is, when I'm in the midst of mentally craving that stuff and I'm with my husband at my favorite restaurant, I forget how I feel afterward. I have to work on that. Hopefully I will remember the miserable feeling this weekend when we, I'm almost certain, go out on the bike and end up at our favorite place.

Secondly, I decided in the event that I wanted something sweet, I would have a sugar-free pudding. Oh. My. God. Yes, I know that sorbital can act as a laxative but I didn't think that one small pudding cup would send my digestive tract into a tailspin of excretion. Hello! About an hour after I ate it, I was running, cheeks squeezed shut, to the bathroom, which suddenly seemed miles away. Never again. I may be stupid but I'm not dumb and I will not suffer through that experience again for a cup of pudding.

Yesterday I had a glorious hamburger with a kaiser roll, some fabulous fries and an ice cream cone. I felt bloated and nasty afterward and couldn't eat the rest of the day (it was about 1:00 when I ate it) because there was just no room anywhere in my body (therefore, I'm sure it settled in my butt and thighs). Today I woke up with a massive stomachache and even a headache and I'm now convinced I have some sort of food allergy to something I ate. I'm considering trying the burger again without the ice cream to see how it impacts me and then the ice cream without the burger. Maybe then I'll know which one it was that bothered me or maybe it will end up being the combination. The problem is, I'm not all that interested in feeling this way again. The problem, again, is to remember this feeling when my mind tricks me into thinking I want the yummies again. It's not worth it but I'm not sure I'll remember that.

I have spent the last two years (and really, several years before that) wishing, hoping and praying that God would help me to eat better. As I once heard, when you pray for something, God doesn't 'give' it to you, he gives you opportunities to do what it is you're praying for. For example, when you pray for patience, He doesn't give you patience, he gives you OPPORTUNITIES to be patient. I've never liked that theory but looking back, I can see how He has done that for me with my eating. Now I'm finally 'getting the hints' and moving in the right direction.

I'm still experimenting with what works in my body and what doesn't and I know it's going to be a long, probably never-ending road to travel. That's okay. I have a long way to go. I need to eat more veggies. I need to learn how to cook more veggies and then I'll eat them. It's all an experimental process and I'm moving forward with it.

I also need to push through the crappy feeling and work out when I don't quite want to, which has been a problem for me as of late. I suspect the food making me feel crappy is contributing to the lack of desire to work out. When I don't feel good, the last thing I want to do is exert myself but I know that when I exert myself, I feel better. It's a vicious mind game for me.

Progress is good and I'm progressing. I looked at a pair of pants I barely fit into last summer and compared them to a pair of pants I hadn't been able to wear in two years and can now. The size difference is huge. It makes me happy to know my 'old' wardrobe in 'new' again. It's amazing what a few pairs of slimmer jeans can do for the self esteem. I'm remembering that feeling when I feel crappy, reminding myself that aside from the health benefits, the more obvious appearance benefits are well worth the struggle.

18 LBS DOWN!

Gotta love that blog title.

I've been eating cleaner (not totally clean but cleaner) since March 1st. I started adding a little bread and some 'treats' now and then but in all honesty, they're not making me feel good. They make me feel gross, stuffed, bloated, sick, full, nasty and most importantly, guilty. As if what I did took me off path...took me farther away from my target. So I've cut back on the additions. Instead, I'm working on having some whole grains and a little fruit before 3 PM. This way I get what it is I'm looking for but not late enough in the day to feel I've screwed myself.

I am adding more fruit each day. Not a lot. Just enough to give me a fix, so to speak and to keep my carbs balanced. Initially I looked at fruit as a sugar but I'm keeping it to berries and fruits that take longer to digest, not bananas and the like. So far, I'm mostly adding berries but there's a kiwi in my fridge calling my name right now. Too bad it's after 3 PM. Eight minutes after but still, after.

I'm working towards losing a pound a week now. We head to Costa Rica in October and I'd like to lose 20 more though I really don't need to lose that much. I figure if I keep up with what I'm doing, adding my work outs to the mix, and mixing them up, I should have no problem with a pound a week. Right now I'm shooting towards 500 calories burned a day through exercise. (Today I burned 733) and if I don't do it, I at least have the reduction in food to help me get there. I'm considering the calorie loss through my new eating habits as a bonus and not in the weight loss equation.

So far, so good. I'm motivated and feel good about it. Have been for over two months now so I feel like the 'me' I used to know and used to be, is back.

Can't complain about that. I sort of liked having her around.

Processing...

Sometimes things happen that you never imagined could. Sometimes you realize something you thought was one thing is actually something else. What do you do when that happens? You process. Or at least that's what I do. Right now I'm processing things and refocusing my thoughts in a new direction. I'm not strongly opposed to change but admittedly, I'd prefer things stay the same, as long as 'the same' isn't bad. Unfortunately sometimes things change and there's just nothing to be done but go with the flow and move forward. I guess you can move backward or even try to fight the change but what's the point? It's coming head on regardless of what you do and you just have to push through it until it's the new normal.

Nothing in life is ever guaranteed. I believe with the utmost certainly, the only unconditional love (religious beliefs aside) is the love of a parent to a child. And honestly, there are some who aren't even capable of that. Love in any other form isn't a sure thing and can change with the blink of an eye. Sometimes the change means growth and other times it's a death sentence. That's just life. I recently realized that since my parents are both dead, I no longer have that unconditional love and it was a humbling thought. It made me realize that the love I do have from people is fragile and must be treated with kindness. Not that I always take advantage of those I love and who love me but let's face it, it happens to all of us.

I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say here. Well, yeah, I am but I just don't know if this is the right place to say it, actually. I guess the point is that life is full of change and expectations are not always met and faith is not always restored but it is what it is and if we go with it, most of the time it works out for the best, whatever that may be. Or at least I hope it does.

Life Goes On

Saturday night was tough. I couldn't sleep. This doesn't happen daily but as I get older, it happens more often. My mind wasn't racing. In fact, I couldn't actually 'think' about anything for any consistent amount of time and no bad song lyrics (or good ones for that matter) were stuck on repeat in my head. I wasn't feeling any specific emotion, except of course, frustration because I couldn't sleep. I wasn't anxious, over tired, restless, sad, mad, happy. I just couldn't sleep.

I've tried different techniques to fall asleep and sometimes they work but this night, nothing seemed to. Sometimes all it takes is a change of room...the guest room, the family room...a room that's different...and I can fall asleep but that didn't even work Saturday night.

My son had the same problem that night as well because at 4 AM he was tapping on my shoulder telling me he couldn't sleep. We decided to go to the family room and hang out together. I guess quality time is quality time regardless of the actual hour, right?

Sadly, my son's favorite channel is the Military Channel and I was subjected to two hours of a WWII documentary. I'm by no means a war or military buff but I suffered through it for the sake of my son. Finally, at 6 AM I decided to see if my favorite Starbucks was opened and we headed out. Sadly, it wasn't. Instead my son and I went to McDonald's so he could have breakfast while I watched and waited for the Starbucks doors to unlock.

Sitting in that McDonald's reminded me of the times I would go there with my father for breakfast. He loved McDonald's breakfasts. Until of course, his heart attack and then he wasn't allowed to go more than rarely. While my son sat and ate, I felt a wave of sadness come over me. I started to miss my dad. I always miss him but as time goes on, the sadness fades and life continues. Sometimes it creeps up on me and I start to feel this overwhelming sense of loss and it takes me a few minutes to get it under control...to be able to breathe normally again. No one really notices it, especially my son, thankfully. It seems silly that a simple trip to McDonald's would open the hole losing my dad has left in my heart but it's really those little things that impact me the most. I think that's what everyone says when they've lost someone they love but it never really seems true until you experience it yourself.

Because, as we all know, life goes on.

That's the part about losing someone that frustrates me now, at this stage of my losses. Life goes on. There is this big empty space in my heart...in my soul and I feel the loss so strongly but it's my personal loss. As I sat in that McDonald's with my son, I realized that while my parents, in my eyes, were the most amazing people to grace this earth, not everyone else thought that or even knew them. In fact, more people than not had no clue they even existed. The people in that McDonald's continued through their days and that day in particular, without my parents in their lives and weren't even phased by that while I sat there feeling a loss so profound and intense I couldn't breathe.

Life goes on. People wake up and do what they do every day. Buses take kids to school. Trains move masses of people to and from, to and from. Planes fly. Starbucks continues to make coffee (and thank God for that). Spring has even sprung here in Atlanta and we're already heading into summer. Life goes on. All without my dad and my mom.

Sitting in that McDonald's, I realized the unfairness of that. Life goes on even though the world lost two amazing people and it seems as if their mark on the world is gone now, too. Sure they have family to carry on. Little bits of their DNA are moving through the world but for me, that's not enough. It's all I've got but still, it's not enough. I realize most people feel this way when they lose someone they love and I know it's the way the world works but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

I just can't comprehend that my parents are gone and every day goes on just like the day before. I'm doing a lousy job of explaining it. I guess the best I can say is that sometimes, like in that McDonald's, I want to stand up and scream at the top of my lungs, "My parents are dead and you're walking around like the world is the same but it's not!" Because for me, the world is different and it will never be the same.

The world for me is now the world of 'after my parents died' instead of the 'before my parents died' world.

I'm not sad every day anymore. Like I said, it comes and goes and that physical pain in my chest...that inability to breathe...that feeling of total helplessness, it's all gone. I spend most of my days happy and can think about my parents without feeling sad. That's progress for me and I feel I'm moving forward in my grief but every so often it slaps me in the face and I'm shocked to realize
that it's actually true, my parents are dead.

I thought maybe writing this would resolve something for me. That maybe I'd understand the feeling better but I don't. Life still goes on and there is still a sense of loss for me and a slight feeling of anger that no one else in the world really notices the difference. The sun still shines and the wind still blows but for me, everything is just a little different now. Not bad or worse, just different.

Music Therapy

I think I've said this before but it doesn't hurt to repeat it. I love music. Really, what's not to love? Music has an impact on me and many others that has shaped and at times, defined my life.

I'm reading a book right now about a woman who is a music therapist. She uses music to work with emotional issues, trauma victims and disabilities. The concept sparked interest for me and I've googled and binged it enough to now believe music therapy is an excellent option for people who fall into those categories. I firmly believe for many, music is therapy.

I grew up listening to music. I remember nights sitting in our living room with my dad, listening to the Glenn Miller Orchestra or Neil Diamond and countless other performers from the 40's and 50's. We'd sit and listen and eat Malted Milk Balls while drinking calorie laden Dr. Pepper from glass bottles. I could afford to drink full throttle drinks like that as a child. Now? Not so much. Today when I hear "Chattanooga Choo Choo" or "Cherry Cherry" I almost feel transported back in time to that same living room and the little girl I used to be. Granamials and all.

I admit to being picky about my music. I like what I like and it's not always what someone else likes. Come to think of it, that's pretty much how I am about most everything in my life. I'm not closed minded about music but I have a preference and I can tell, immediately if something I hear is going to be a winner for me or not. First impressions are everything, I guess.

My husband and I disagree about the purpose of music in life. He defines it as background noise. Something he can take or leave. I consider it something much more substantial. Neil Diamond has a song called "Song Sung Blue". The premise of the words is that most people, when sad, turn on a song to validate those feelings and wallow, so to speak but once the music plays, they can't help but sing along and ultimately feel better. There's just something in the chords, the words, the rhythm...something that sparks our happy to push through and make an appearance. He's right. Sometimes even a sad song can make me feel better.

Music has a connection to my past, my present and my future. I can sit in a room, listen to my iTouch and think about any phase in my life, past or future, in relation to a song. "Against All Odds", an 80's classic, brings back memories of my first real love and the emotional torture I felt when it ended. Of course now I don't feel that torture. Instead, I feel nostalgic and it reminds me of the innocence of that time, not the pain and drama I felt then. Phil Collins can take me back to that innocence in three minutes, like it was just yesterday.

Right Now by Valen Halen (the Sammy years, which I liked much more than the DLR ones), is a theme song of sorts for me. The song focuses me on the now and the future. What I'm doing now impacts what I'll do later so make now worth it. Make it count. What's stopping me? I listen to that song every time I'm on the elliptical at the gym and I want to get off. It reminds me of why I'm there in the first place.

Music is about emotion. It's a beat stuck in our head that can drive us crazy (that It's Friday song needs to be put out of it's misery, please) or a phrase that makes us feel good (I can't sing Hey Soul Sister and feel bad. I just can't). Music can lift me out of what's happening now and transport me anywhere I want to be. I miss my mom, so I listen to country from the 80's because she loved that. I miss my dad and Frank Sinatra's Summer Wind connects me to him.

Yes, I'm picky. I prefer male voices to female, though there are some I like. I have no interest in rap or hip hop and really, jazz doesn't do a whole lot for me. I tend to gravitate toward 'rockabilly', BoDeans, Blue Rodeo, the like. I like what most radio stations never play and have my iTouch near my side 24/7 - except the hell of losing it for 42 days though it was right in front of me the whole time. Pure torture, really.

Some people don't really feel the same about music and it makes me sad for them. They're missing out on so much. My daughter never understood my attachment to music. I remember telling her that one day it would make a big difference in her life and she'd have it on all of the time. She couldn't see that as an option but now, she totally gets it. At least, after all this time, I did something right!

29 Days Refined Carb and Sugar Free!

Things I'm doing:

1. Busting my big, fat, Italian beeeeehind at the gym six days a week.

2. Not eating anything with chocolate, whipped cream, icing or anything sugary and fattening. Damn it.

3. Eating more protein and veggies than any sane person should.

4. Craving 0 fat plain Greek yogurt. With a tad bit of cinnamon.

5. Reading a book every two days (to keep my mind of of eating the stuff mentioned in #2.)

6. Kicking up my cardio an additional 15 minutes to an hour instead of 45 minutes a day.

7. Switching up my weight training from lighter weights and higher reps to heavier weights and lower reps. (which by the way, has made my butt hurt a whole heck of a lot!)

8. Getting up when I get up, heading to Starbucks and then straight to the gym so I don't sit at home and decide not to go.

9. Losing weight but not weighing myself anymore because the scale is an evil alien designed to screw with my head.

So far, so good. Five months until Costa Rica. 20 lbs (I will weigh again, eventually) should be no problem!

The Long & Winding Road to Better Health

People who know me know I used to work out a lot. One good friend (Tammy, I won't mention your name) calls me the work out queen. She may have been right before but lately, not so much. I used to work out daily with a friend at a gym close to my house. Then my husband moved us to another county and the drive in the metro Atlanta traffic was too much so I stopped going. The club options here were sparse at best and I couldn't find a gym I felt comfortable with. I did end up at a Y, once it finally opened. I started back into a routine but being the stand-offish woman I am, I hadn't really made any friends there and for me, working out is better, easier and more fun with friends. Needless to say, I stopped doing what I enjoyed. Eventually I started up again, sporadically but at least I was doing something. Eventually another gym opened and I started going to it, though I wasn't really making friends. I'm just not good at that, I guess.

Life got in the way and I found other things to do with my time and then the $h!t hit the fan and life through two lousy curve balls and any thought or interest in exercise went out the window.

It's taken me nine months since the last curve ball to get back on track. It's actually funny because after the first curve ball, it took nine months too and then two months and 15 pounds less later, that second curve ball did me in. It's okay though. I've started tackling things from a different perspective and it seems to be working. Sometimes it's all a matter of mind games.

I had made a plan to start exercising prior to the end of 2010. I'm an excellent planner. I can plan anything to a T. My problem isn't the planning. It's the executing. I'm okay at it if there is an immediate gratification but if the result is long term, I tend to lose patience and stop. It's a psychological block I share with many but still it frustrates me that I'm that way.

I didn't actually 'start' the plan (albeit revised tremendously) until March 1st. I'd normally start something on a Monday but instead I decided to start on the first of a month. Change one to my psychological make up. Well, sort of.

Yes, I had a plan. No, it wasn't totally defined anymore but still, I knew I had to do something at some point. That's sort of a plan, right? The actual push that started me was my mirror. You know how people who have lost 100 or more pounds say they had a turning point, an ah-ha moment, an epiphany? I'm not sure but I think I had one (even though I only wanted to lose about 30 lbs but still worthy of an epiphany in my book).

I looked in the mirror one day, my pants fitting tighter than I'd like and a shirt pulled down low to cover my uncomfortableness. I've never been one to show off my figure but hiding it to the degree I felt I was was even pushing it for me. I looked in the mirror and thought, "I don't look that bad." Then I realized that's what people who have lost control of their weight, lost control of their health, must say. "I don't look that bad." And it freaked me out.

Truthfully, no, I don't look that bad. I'm not into the double digits of size. For many, my desire to lose weight is laughable. I get that. It's not about what others see or really, what the scale or number of my size is. It's about how I feel about me. How I feel physically. How I feel emotionally. How my health is. It's about my psychological make up and what I've done to myself, outside circumstances aside, to become what I am today. And really, I finally realized I don't really like what I've become. It's simply not me.

So on March 1st, I quietly started making changes to myself. My first change was to not tell anyone I was making changes. I've found if I speak of my goals, I psych myself out in some way to not follow them and end up looking like the boy who cried wolf, except more womanly. Instead, I kept my mouth shut for a change (which is never easy for an Italian woman, trust me) and did it. I stopped eating sugar and refined carbs. No breads, no pasta, no packaged foods. No fruits. I went with a close version of the South Beach Diet because it's about eating healthy and while I can't have certain things like fruits, I can add them back eventually and be happy. I'm not 'depriving' myself of anything of quality, designed to be good for my body, except the fruit and whole grains. It's temporary.

South Beach is designed to cut the sugar addiction from your body in a two week period. I know me and I know that two weeks wasn't going to be enough. My initial goal was to cut it until April 1st and then start adding fruits and whole grains back in. That is still my plan. I thought it would be hard. I thought I'd miss it. I thought I'd be cranky and bitchy and irritable and mean. I thought I'd cheat. I most always cheat on things like this.

I. Have. Not. Cheated. Once. Not. Once.

I'm on day 24 and I haven't had any cravings for any sugars. I miss bread a little but not enough to make it worth cheating. I'm not sure what I did but I've convinced myself that when I'm ready, I will add the bread back in slowing so this isn't a forever thing and I can do it. It's worked. I don't feel deprived. Yes, every so often I want to go out to eat and I do. I've had fajitas a few times but don't eat the tortillas. I've watched my family eat mountain sized scoops of ice cream and chips with cheese dip and don't break out in a sweat wanting it, nor do I try to sneak any of it. I'm so freaking proud of myself I can't tell you!

It took a few days before anyone noticed. My husband mentioned something when I wasn't eating rice and I told him. He wasn't shocked because I've done this before but I think it surprised him that I didn't tell him. Normally I'd complain or 'jones' for something but generally, I've been okay.

I've had to figure out my triggers during this time. I've noticed that while I do 'want' certain things at certain times, it's a mental craving, not a physical craving. I've not felt a physical need for sugar. Sometimes I get frustrated, bored, lonely, mad, happy, sad, anxious...then I say, "I deserve a bag of M&M's" but I've realized the trick my mind is playing on me and I don't let it take hold. Progress. Figuring out my triggers has helped. I've been able to work through the emotion without the food (though boredom is sometimes a challenge) and have done well to date.

I didn't start exercising when I gave up the sugar and refined carbs. I didn't want to go full force like I always have because it's always created the crash and burn syndrome for me. Instead I waited two weeks and then I started exercising. First just cardio for 30-45 minutes five days a week because frankly, I'm out of shape. I didn't want to start back to spinning and weights daily because I knew I'd either injure myself or exhaust myself enough to quick. I started increasing the cardio to consistently be 45 minutes and then started adding some easy weightlifting back into my program. Today, for example, I didn't do cardio. I should have but I mixed up my leg routine to be higher weights and my legs are exhausted. I knew I'd be tired and I knew my heart rate would be high and I didn't want to push myself too hard. I plan to at least go for a walk later today.

I'm using my Polar heart rate monitor watch and keeping track of my calorie burn. Last week I set a goal to burn 200-400 more calories a day but I didn't reach it. It was a tough goal. I met it one day and didn't feel that normal rush of adrenaline afterward. I just felt tired and took that as a single that maybe it was too much. Instead I'm planning to add a little more calorie burn daily next week.

I also had no intention of weighing myself until April 1st. I hadn't weighed since my dad died last summer and knew I'd piled back on the 15 lbs I'd lost since gaining the weight from my mom's death (and maybe more) and honestly, I was afraid the scale would depress me and then I'd give up. Normally I'd be on the scale daily, freaking out with any slight change.

I know I've lost weight. My clothes fit better and I've reduced my bra size. Thank God. BUT...I had a plan to not weigh until April 1st and I couldn't stick to it. I had to know. Not knowing for sure what I weighed when I started, I went off the weight of my last time and figured I'd lost about 12 lbs in 16 or so days. Excellent. I weighed myself two more times and today the scale was higher and I was pissed. I know there are reasons for this...water retention, muscle, etc. etc. etc., yet it still played with my head and I've decided to stick to my original thoughts. It's not about what the scale says. It's about how I feel and how my clothes fit. Since those two are improving, I've got to not let the scale screw with me. Today, I'm working on that thought process and controlling it.

I don't know how long I'll continue this. I'd like to stick to my new way of eating until certain clothes fit but if I get to a point where I want to start eating the fruits and whole grains badly enough, I may. Everything in moderation. Right? I'm not sure if I can do that so I've really got to work on that process.

I've made a lot of changes in these past 24 days. Some aren't obvious to others but for me, they're changes. Mostly I've changed my way of thinking about things. It's not just the physical and nutritional changes, which, while important, aren't the main focus of my change. It's the psychological changes that are directing my actions. Instead of letting my mind work against me, I'm finding ways to change my way of thinking, change my self talk and the mind games I play against myself. So far, I'm winning that battle and it feels good.

Various Rantings about the Trivial...

Today is my second day away from Facebook. I decided to leave for Lent. I'm not Catholic but some Christians do practice Lent so I figured, what the heck. Yesterday I bored off my @$$.

I don't spend a lot of time 'on' Facebook but I have it on my phone, my itouch and my computer so it's easily accessible and if I get an email notification, I can quickly check, respond and feel like I've done something. Something useless and unimportant but something, none the less. I didn't realize the 50 or so emails a day from Facebook took up as much time as they did because yesterday I thought I was going to crawl out of my skin from boredom.

Keep in mind I had many things to do. I still need to finish the trim on the cabinets. Repaint the doors throughout the house. Finish painting the closet doors in the guest room. I could clean windows, steam clean my stairs, organize my soon to be sold jewelry supplies. I could do many things but yesterday I decided to watch it pour buckets on the metro Atlanta area out my big picture windows and complain to myself about being bored. Totally. Wasted. Day.

If I have another one of those I'm pretty sure I'm going to lose my mind.

I don't often do sitting still and doing nothing well. Losing both of my parents threw a monstrous kink in that theory for quite some time but my body and my mind have started to get back on track and I can literally feel my need to do something. Anything. I've felt the anxiety stirring in my gut. That feeling of 'if I don't move, I'm going to explode'. Maybe you get that, too? Maybe not. But I do and it's intense at times. Crawling out of my skin and exploding are not feel good things for me.

I did manage to get to the gym yesterday, something I've focused on doing every day this week and am confident will continue. I've missed it. It was me for a long time and then it wasn't and not only does my body show that but my mental state does, too. I've already noticed the difference in my appearance from the gym and the lack of refined carbs and sugars for 10 days so far and it motivates me to keep going. I love that motivation. I've missed it. So while I went to the gym yesterday, nothing else jumped out at me, screaming, "Pick me! Pick me!" and I picked nothing but couch sitting. Yuck. It was not fun.

Today I got up at 6 AM and decided that, since I was up, I'd go ahead and get my morning Starbucks and head to the gym earlier. I'm afraid if I wait, I'll change my mind, which has happened so often in the past. I had planned to do only cardio and thought 45 minutes would be good. Right now I'm mostly doing the elliptical because I'm old and my bursitis acts up when I walk and I'm not quite ready to spin daily again just yet. I hate the elliptical. It's so booorinnng. After 25 minutes I decided I'd hop off at 30 and sit on a bike because I really felt like sitting down. Thirty minutes came and I didn't have as big of an urge to sit so I actually talked myself (easily, too, surprisingly) into another 15 minutes. Fifteen came and went and then I had to make myself get off at an hour.

Who is this person taking over my motivation and can she please stay forever? I'm sort of liking her.

Admittedly, I was shocked that I decided to stay on for an hour. Silly as it sounds, cardio alone is boring as best and I have to work hard to resist the unmotivated Carolyn on my right shoulder whispering in my ear to get off and go eat something yummy. I'd listen to the motivating Carolyn on my other shoulder (maybe) but she's non-existent. I didn't even feel her today. Instead, I felt as if I didn't really want to get off and leave. I didn't really want to get off the elliptical and leave. I'm giggling as I type that because it's so darn funny to me! I guess the point is is that I feel like that's a good thing and tomorrow when I'm cursing that 25 minute mark, I'm going to remember that. Oh, and it doesn't help that there was a great song on my itouch at that time, too.

So today, I feel good.

Not going to do any of the painting and such I listed earlier because I felt so nasty sweaty after my hour of cardio I decided to shower right away and actually applied make up so instead I'm going out. Once I figure out what that means, I'm sure I'll feel busy and not want to crawl out of my skin. Maybe. I do suspect however, next week I'll be a painting crazy woman. Yippee.

(Insert clever change of subject lead in here...because I got nothing!)

Lately I've felt like I've been shut up. Hushed might be a better word, actually. Not that someone in particular is telling me to shut up or stop me from talking, more like what I have to say isn't all that important and I've just stopped, more or less. Some might argue that point, however. It's frustrated me and when I'm frustrated I feel tense and irritable and just no fun to be around. I think part of why I like Facebook is I can spit out a few things and feel like I've had my say in something, regardless of whether anyone cares or not. I don't think it made me feel important but for me, words are valuable and to not feel like I can use them makes me one cranky bitch. I thought about that and this blog and decided it's a good place to 'use my words' and if someone decides to read them, then hey, all the better. We'll see if I can be more consistent with it.

Time to eat. I'm hearing my stomach make sounds and if I don't shut it up with something healthy, I fear the little nasty Carolyn on my shoulder will come out.
Peace.

About Choices...

I've been thinking a lot about choices lately. When you sit down and think about it, virtually everything we do comes from a choice. A choice we make, whether consciously or not, can determine the direction of our life. Pull out in front of a car quickly instead of waiting, can spur one off in a direction never thought possible and sometimes simply be the end of our path all together. That late afternoon coffee can keep us up all night. Everything is a choice and each of those choices have an impact on our lives, no matter how small.

Life gets more complicated as we grow older, add families and begin to lose the people we love. These complications add even more choices to an already complicated process. We begin to make choices for other people or because of other people and we learn about their choices and what they mean.

Watching my daughters find their places in life, making choices that may or may not be the best isn't always easy but I've come to realize for the most part, their choices are theirs and they won't learn from them if they don't make them. Of course there are situations where, as a parent, we must step in and stop a choice or correct one but for the most part, they're not going to learn if they don't deal with the consequences of their choices.

I watched my parents make choices that damaged their health and ultimately ended their lives. They knew what they were doing and chose to continue down that path.

I have no true control over what choices anyone makes. The only choices I can control, for the most part, are my own. Sometimes I have to make choices I don't like, for the sake of others or because it's simply the right thing to do. I could choose not to make those choices but it's all part of the process and sometimes it just simply is what it is.

I've spent a lot of time evaluating the choices I've made lately. Some were ones I didn't consciously make and some were made because of circumstances I couldn't control. What I had to realize about those choices is that while I did make them, consciously or not, I allowed them to continue, which in and of itself, is a choice.

I had to make a conscious choice if I wanted to continue along the path these choices directed me or if I wanted to find a new path by making a new choice. I've decided to make new choices. Some have been easier than others but they're mine. I own them, I made them and I'm going with the flow of them.

I'm not entirely sure what direction they're going to take me. Each choice has a ripple effect and requires even more choices but that's part of the fun of making conscious choices. I may do fine and I may stumble but if I do, I'll do it knowing I made a choice and have some form of control over what happens next.

I hope, as I continue down the path I'm choosing, I can positively impact those around me to make better, more informed choices, too.

Is This MY Blog?

Hello. My name is Carolyn. I've owned this blog for quite some time yet seldom do I do anything with it. Uninspired? Maybe. Bored and have nothing to write about? Also a maybe. Lazy? I'm thinking, probably, yes, lazy. That's okay. This too shall pass, right?

This year has brought a few changes to life as I know it. CBS canceled Medium, which sadly, means no more Joe DuBois (Jake Weber) to drool over. He really is the perfect husband, you know. How many men would tolerate their wives waking them up nightly because of wild, crazy dreams about murders and things that simply make no sense? Plus, she talks to his dad, who has been dead forever. Really, the guy is amazing. You'll be missed, Joe DuBois. Some people might find that a bit odd, one of the changes in my life being the cancellation of a TV show but well, it is what it is.

There are other changes, too. Self-inflicted changes that require more work for me. The lazy girl. What was I thinking? My biggest change is going back to working out. Which, by the way, is much harder at 44 than one would think. The bones and the muscles seem to fight each other and seriously, when did my stairs get so darn steep? I did legs yesterday today and I almost fell over doing my version of running down the stairs. I'm thinking it was the wind behind me, pushing me down. You know, the wind from the speed of my newly fit run down the stairs. Yes, that's what I'm goin' with here. It makes me feel better.

I'm thinking of getting back to my writing. I've had a few things sitting on the sidelines, waiting for me to add to them and I haven't. I felt uninspired and sad for so long it just wasn't worth the effort. Those things are still there and will get attended to (maybe even finished) but I've had this idea in my head for quite some time and its stirring around and around and is finally starting to boil. It may be put to paper if I can figure out the format. Then the question is, what do I do with it, if anything?

I guess the changes are more about what I want to do and not what I am doing. I'm hoping my motivation and determination will have a greater impact on me than the cloud I've had hanging over me, actually, completely engulfing me for the last two years. My parents wouldn't want me to feel that way anymore and honestly, I'm tired of feeling that way, too. It sort of just stopped. I still miss them, terribly. I still think about them more often than not and I still talk to them - but my life is continuing. They wouldn't want it to stop just because they're not here. I have to keep reminding myself of that but apparently it's working.

So I move forward. I tackle the stairs, even though I worry I'll fall down them (from that huge wind behind me due to my incredible speed). I pull out the Word document I've had sitting on my computer forever and see where it gets me. I'm hoping the change (no, not THAT change, geezus! I'm only 44) happens quickly. Because I'm ready.

Messages from the Other Side

I have always believed there was something 'after' this life. Some define it as Heaven, some use other terms. I'm a supporter of the Heaven theory myself. With that being said, an extension of my belief is that if there is something more than maybe there is some way to still maintain a connection with those who have passed.

If someone came to me and told me they'd had an experience with their great aunt coming to see them, I'd believe. I think it's possible but when it comes to things happening to me, I'm not always so sure.

I could make this post miles long and describe my experiences but I'm on a painting break and need to make this short and sweet. Instead, I'll give you some high-lights as background to my story.

As a child, I often saw a woman in white standing outside my bedroom doorway, just looking in and smiling. Years later I saw a picture of my father's mother, whom I'm named after and knew it was the same woman. I was never afraid and I never thought it was strange.

In my teens, my mom's mother passed and I experienced her presence in her house the day of her death. I felt her with me and watched as she closed a door. It freaked me out tremendously.

In the mid-90's an uncle I was very close to passed. I had a dream shortly thereafter where I told him I loved him and asked if he was an angel. I can still see that dream vividly in my mind. I firmly believe that was him.

Some time last year, I felt a man's presence in my house. I thought if I turned quickly enough, I would see an older man in an old military uniform. I did not mention this to my kids but my son saw him in my room several times and my daughter felt the same presence. They both told me separately. I don't know who it is but he's been back a few times recently.

I've experienced other things but these are the strongest.

After my mom passed, I did not feel her and it frustrated me. I tried and tried and begged for a sign. A very good friend told me it was most likely my walls and that when I was able to feel her, I would. Yet, I got nothing. And it ticked me off. I did have a friend who made a connection with her. She had a dream that my mom told her to tell me she was okay. I believed that but was still frustrated that she got the contact and not me. Months later I had a dream that my mom called me on a broken pay phone and said, "I've crossed over." Those would be words she would use.

When my dad died last May, I felt different. With my mom, I have not felt her at all. My dad however, seems to be here. I feel his energy. Not all of the time and not often but I do. Shortly after he passed I was half asleep at his house and I heard his voice, clear as day, say my name. Then nothing for some time. Recently I had a dream that I was walking with him and I asked if it was really him and he said yes. I then asked if he could hear me talk to him and he said, "Yes, I hear you." I woke up hoping and doubting that was a visit but I can't help but want it to have been.

I have always been close to my parents. I thought that when they passed, if they could, they would be around. But I wanted to feel them and I really haven't felt them at all. It's not as if I wanted them hanging out with me daily but I wanted to have a sense of them.

Last week two of those expensive energy smart bulbs blew in my kitchen. The next day the microwave sparked and stopped functioning. I was not happy. That week I also joined a website that deals with the metaphysical. I wanted to see if the things I've experienced could be real or just me hoping and wishing. I signed up for a medium to call me and do a reading. The odds were slim I'd get the call but I did. Last night.

As much of a cynic as I am, I had to admit to being freaked at the clarity of it all. He mentioned immediately things that he could have researched and discovered but then he mentioned something that very few people, including my husband knew. If it was my mom and dad, they would have known this but it was not in any way public knowledge.

And he told me that my father has been here messing with my electricity. He said not flicking lights on and off but blowing things up. Yeah, dad owes me a new microwave now. I was sort of floored at that too because he wouldn't have known about it, either.

The medium said two specific things that made me feel he was actually talking to my parents. Things they could not have researched with the limited information they had. How is that possible? I have to have faith that it is. That there really is something else out there and that my parents are still here with me, maybe not all of the time but still here. Goodness, I'll never be able to have sex again! :)

I'm still processing all of the information but I'll work through it. For those that don't believe, I have to say I was taking that route recently but with this, I can't help but think there's something more and maybe, just maybe if we open ourselves up to the possibility, we'll see. Maybe if we break down the walls of doubt, they're there, knocking for us to let them in.

Regaining Focus

The past few days haven't been easy. I've been cranky and frustrated about things that really shouldn't be that important but are.

My husband recently purchased a Harley - he loves it. It's a stress reliever for him and I'm thankful he's got it. He works hard. He's bearing a lot of weight on his shoulders and while they're strong and well defined, it can't be easy. He needs the stress relief. My biggest reliever of stress is music. It's always been important to me. It's always helped me through tough times, sad times, happy times, physically taxing times, most times. I find meaning in the words, motivation, relaxation, inspiration and many other 'ations' in the melody. Music relaxes me like the Harley relaxes my husband. So when my iTouch disappeared last week let's just say devastated doesn't describe my feeling.

If you know me, you know I'm fairly anal retentive. Most of my house is organized and I usually know where something is all of the time. My kids will ask me where their 'whatever' is and I can usually tell them the exact spot. With my iTouch, it has most always been in my hand throughout the day so I was never concerned with its location. The other night however, I couldn't sleep and walked through the house in a daze so I'm worried I put it somewhere and can't figure out where.

I've searched and upturned the house for days looking for the darn thing and it's nowhere. I could get another one, replace most of the music and was thankful to know that iTunes would replace the music I had yet to download to my pc but that wasn't helpful. It's still gone and it's still driving me crazy that I misplaced it when it's been so important to me for so long now.

My husband didn't understand it. Music to him is background noise. It has no meaning. I can see why he feels that way but I grew up listening to music with my father and because it was so important to him, it became important to me, too. It soothes me. It keeps me grounded...keeps me focused. It's my Harley, if you will.

I am currently using my husband's old iPhone, so at least I have my music, if not my iTouch. One day it will show up. I hope.

Knowing all of that now, it's important to understand I was one crank-ass b---- for the past few days. The lost music, the lost iTouch, the PMS, it all called upon the monster within and she showed herself but good! I thank God for my family and their ability to be patient and understanding. I was on the verge of tears for practically 48 hours. It was not pretty.

Through this whole frustration, I had a few friends who needed me. I'm always surprised at that. I often feel unstable and a total mess and it shocks me when others see me as strong and reliable. It's almost laughable to me at times. I feel like I'm crumbling to pieces yet others think I know what the heck I'm talking about. Maybe I do because they seem to keep coming around. That's got to mean something right?

My friends help me keep focused and grounded. I realize that the parents of a troubled child, who are struggling with how to handle things are so much more important then losing my iTouch and I feel silly for getting all worked up about it. I need that perspective at times. Mostly because I have to be reminded it's not all about me, all of the time. Sometimes I'd sure like it to be though. Hey, at least I'm honest, right?

Aging Gracefully...or Not.

Today (actually, yesterday if I'm being specific) at Starbucks a woman approached my husband and told him he looked like Richard Gere. As of late, this is happening a lot. Previously, he's been compared to Tom Cruise but since acquiring a head full of gray hair, that comparison has been few and far between. I'm okay with that. I've never been a fan of Cruise and have no desire to see my husband sliding around the house in his underwear. Some things are just better left to the mysteries of love.

I'm not a huge fan of Richard Gere either. Yes, I find him attractive but the whole gerbil rumor has always kept him low on my "Hawt Man Meter". Currently Alex O'Laughlin (The Backup Plan, Moonlight, some stupid hospital show and currently, Hawaii 5 0-gawd his he freaking hawt!) tops my list. Next up is Rob Lowe who just gets better with age. He's like a nice bottle of Merlot. And I don't even like wine.

As for the bottom of my list, well, I just don't know. There are just too many men and too little room on the list, I guess. Anyway, my point is that Richard Gere just simply isn't on it. It's okay though. I don't find it at all insulting that my husband is being compared to him. He's attractive, has great hair and a nice smile. I can see the resemblance.

My husband has a great mix of salt and pepper in his hair. It's as if some anal retentive colorist painstakingly frosted each and every strand individually to give it a textured, flowing look. Actually, it kind of pisses me off. I've got these nasty little gray hairs poking out all over my head at random and his flows like a freaking opera. If you ask me, it's just another reason to believe God is male. The man simply has great hair, no one can argue it. I spend hours blow drying, straightening, curling, scrunching, feathering, coloring, hi-lighting and analyzing my hair and my husband gets out of the shower, towel dries it, runs a dimes worth of gel through it with his fingers and is on to the next part of his day. (Reason number two in a long, long list of reasons Carolyn thinks God is male).

I'm not saying my husband is perfect because, though he might disagree, he's not. He's a little older now and gravity has started to catch up with his stomach just a bit. Not a lot but it's there, hiding under his shirts, daring to peek out ever so slightly. Thankfully for him, it's not obvious. I mean, when your face and hair shout Richard Gere to women walking by, who cares if you have a little extra in the middle, right? My middle's hit rock bottom. It's joined forces with my upper and lower and they've become one big blob. If God were female, I'm certain I'd be 5'10" and 110 lbs. Certain. He's male. I'm sure of it.

I confess to having a few lines around the eyes now and my cheeks don't seem to be as 'tight' as before. And yes, that can be said for both sets of cheeks but right now I'm talking about the ones falling just below my chin. I'm pretty sure I'm part Shar Pei. Just a tiny bit. My husband has wrinkles, too. He's got a forehead full of lines and when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in that sexy, "Come get me" sort of way. Mine bark for food.

God has taken an attractive young man, wrapped him up in a middle-aged man package and made him even yummier than before. He's aged him with grace and refinement. He's made him an almost 45 year old bottle of fine wine most women want to try, even if it gives them a headache (and trust me, he's good at that!) For me, he's taken an attractive woman, added hair growth in places hair is not meant to grow, taken hair away from places I'd like it to stay, dropped body parts unreasonable distances, added a 22 lb baby worth of extra 'stuff' and wrapped it up in a graying, wrinkling package with a lovely muffin top for good measure. In truth, with pre-menopause knocking on my door and menopause just around the corner, God is clearly turning me into...my father. So long estrogen, hello testosterone.

Thanks.

Most men age gracefully. Mine sure has. Women however, just get old. Proof positive God is male.

Just Another Day in the Life of Me...

Sometimes it seems my life is a never-ending road of traffic lights. First the light is green and I'm moving along, starting something new or simply heading down the road and then I come to a yellow light, telling me to proceed with caution. Next I'm either faced with a green light again, though leading me in a different direction or a red light, stopping me dead in my tracks. It's a constant start, stop, think, consider, re-evaluate and then proceed yet again, road I travel.

I'm not complaining. Life is what it is and I have many blessings in mine. I'm grateful and thankful for the people, places and things I'm lucky enough to enjoy and hold dear. What I'd like is a little consistency or maybe just a road with no traffic lights every once in a while but who wouldn't want that?

I have friends who travel their own roads, full of bumps and potholes and blocks. Roads with more red lights than green. I watch them struggle to navigate their drive, often without a GPS, sometimes falling into the ditch, only to crawl back out and start the it all over again. Some don't always get back to the drive. Instead they hop on a bus and get the hell out of town. I get that. There have been many times when I've wanted to pull off the road, jump out and run. But I don't. I keep on the road and while I may pull over to let someone else drive for a while, I'm still on the road. Still moving along. I simply keep pushing through the lights and remind myself it's all part of the experience. I'm not waiting for something to happen. I'm experiencing the process of it happening. The good and the bad. The yellow lights and the red ones, too.

I don't usually like to stop. I certainly can't stand to stop and then have to start again and with a lot in my life, that seems to be the process. Take working out. I do it. Something gets in the way. I get distracted. I stop. I start up again. Something gets in the way. I get distracted. I stop. I start up again. No, I don't like it but I keep doing it. It's part of the drive...part of the experience. And instead of constantly thinking about the red light or the road ending, instead I'm training myself to enjoy the ride.

Who Knew I had a Blog? Clearly Not Me!

"Wow," she says as she notices she's not written a thing in her blog for months. She says it to no one because she's home alone and is certain no one has even peeked at her blog in practically a lifetime.

"It doesn't matter," she says to the wind. "I'm going to write anyway and maybe someone, somewhere, suffering from lack of sleep at three o'clock in the morning will find my words and read them."


Actually, a friend of mine sent me an email...which I purposefully ignored...kindly suggesting I blog again. I ignored her because I had no excuse for not writing other than not having much to say.

Yes, that even shocked me.

She got the ball, which some consider my brain, rolling though, so here I sit on the couch, laptop on lap, pondering the days of my life.

So I write.

Writing has always been therapeutic for me and if there's ever been a time in my life that I might need therapy, now is probably it so hopefully this will help.

I have been working hard at getting back into the groove of life since my mom passed. I know that life is full of ups and downs, good days, bad days, trials and tribulations, parties and celebrations or whatever other words people choose to describe life. And I know all of those expressions like, "When the going gets tough, the tough get going" but sometimes it can be a bit overwhelming.

It took me about nine months to start to feel something similar to normal again after my mom died. Normal as newly defined by her passing I guess but normal. I started moving more. Sleeping better. Exercising. Eating better. Doing projects around the house. Interacting socially. I hadn't completely given up all of these things but I started to do them more and actually had interest in them. I felt as if I was picking myself up from the sucker punch of her death and moving on.

It felt good.

Then another sucker punch came at me again. See, that's what life does. There are good times and rough times and we're (hopefully) taught to be strong enough to handle it all and enjoy what we can. It's almost a cycle. A good thing happens and then a bad thing happens, etc. I get that. I've certainly experienced that. Unfortunately in my life, I learned that when something good has happened, look out because pretty soon, something bad is going to hit. So instead of blindly walking through my life unprepared for the possibility of the sucker punch, I've always remained cautiously optimistic and on-guard for the possibility of it. Some people call me a pessimist but I prefer the word realist.

I know that it's a cycle and I know things will get better but a pessimist doesn't view things that way. I'm often prepared for the worst but still hope for the best. At least that way, if the worst does happen, I'm ready.

I was ready for my mom to pass. I wasn't ready for what it would cause me to feel and that was brutal. But that second sucker punch was just as tough, probably even more so because I wanted more time before it struck.

My dad passed away unexpectedly, almost 11 months to the day after my mom died. Yes, he was sick and we knew his health was failing but I think we all tried to deny the reality of it all.

I got the call from my 'step mom' (I really hate that word but in legal terms, it's what she is, though I consider her so much more) and I didn't cry. I didn't really 'cry' for days. I sniffled after a few days but I was pretty numb. There's only so much emotion one can handle and I'd had a lot of it after losing my mom.

I promised myself I wouldn't make the same stupid decisions I did after my mom died. I'd still workout. I'd eat well. I'd been losing the weight I'd gained when she was sick and after her death and I didn't want to gain it all back. But of course, doing and thinking are two very different things and I failed to think about what I was doing as I shoved food in my mouth for emotional support. Back on came the weight and with that, the frustration it brings.

It's been almost four months since my dad died. I'm okay. I'm feeling pretty good and doing things again, not letting that particular sucker punch engulf me the way the other did. I can't. It's not healthy for me or anyone around me. I took my time to mourn him and I always will. I still get choked up thinking about him but I have my good days and my not so good days. Mostly I worry about my step mom. I imagine what I'm feeling is nothing compared to what she's feeling.

It's a whole new normal again now that both of my parents are gone. I was blessed to have them in my life for so long but no matter how long it is, it's never enough time.

Life continues to throw those sucker punches and I continue to push through them, get through the pain and pick myself back up. I think for me, it's a challenge, even if it's a frustrating one. I'm just hopeful that saying, "God only gives you what you can handle" is true and that I get a little break here for a bit. I'd like to be fully 'up' from the punch before I'm struck with another one. Hopefully that's not too much to ask. It isn't, is it?

The Voice(s?) Inside My Head

It's 4:25 AM and I have been up for over an hour. I've not done this in a few weeks so I shouldn't complain but I am anyway. Usually when it happens once, it goes on for several days and makes me (and everyone else around me) miserable. I'm no fun miserable.

The last month hasn't been the easiest. I've been doing well since my mother passed away; thinking that there were rough days but generally, the grieving process wasn't that bad. (Except the weight gain. That's been terrible.)But recently I started to feel differently. In the past month I've started to feel more anxious and maybe a little lost. I haven't been able to define it but it's been there. I felt myself diving deeper into my private, personal space and letting fewer and fewer people in. I so rarely talk about what I'm really feeling I'm not sure anyone noticed but I did. I didn't feel right.

I haven't wanted to do much of anything; doing what's necessary to get by and ignoring the rest. This isn't a way to live and the other day that finally hit me. I'm off kilter and need to find that balance again but until that moment, it felt like the road back was very long and I didn't feel like taking the drive.

I had a slightly major anxiety attack and realized it was time to do something about it. Just acknowledging the fact that something didn't feel right made me feel worlds better. I wouldn't say I'm depressed, though in the throws of my anxiety attack I did. I think, what's happening is I'm actually feeling my grief more now than in the beginning. Life has continued but missing a very important part that was always there and learning to live without that very important part is tough.

Today I opened a letter from the funeral home. The letter said that at the sixth month after a loved one has passed, the grieving process becomes harder. It's called "acute grief". One feels lost, feels more depth to their grief and doesn't understand because they thought they were doing better.

Couldn't they have told me this a few months ago? It would have made the last month easier and completely understandable.

Instead, I thought I was losing my mind.

So now my challenge is to work through it and start moving my life forward again instead of living in what I consider to be my limited life. I've postponed my goals long enough. It's time to work towards them and move forward, like my mom would want me to do.

Hopefully I can get some sleep first and start when 'real' morning comes. Not this crazy, earlier than when God wakes up time.

I Am Me but Me is Them, too (and other stuff)

It's official. I've become my parents. I'm really not sure when it happened, either. It's not like one day I woke up with their perspective on life, speaking their parental words like, "This is not a democracy" and "Because I said so." It's more like a stalker-style transition. The changes slowly creeped up on me and watched my every move, just waiting for the right time to strike and set in, shaping me into...into, well...them.

Today I drove around the metro Atlanta area (something I don't do often), listening to the local top 40 radio station. I love music. My kind of music, that is. As I drove around town (lost, part of the time but that's a different blog post entirely), I found myself saying, OUT LOUD, "Who makes this crap? They call this music? This isn't music!" And then I actually felt myself doing the eye roll. You know the one...the one we used to give our parents when they said things we thought were entirely stupid. Things like, "This isn't music. These people can't even sing!"

And then I knew. I knew it had really happened. I've excused myself repeatedly, saying I am not becoming my parents but that I have kids and many of the attributes I now share with them are a factor of birthing babies but the truth is, I have become my parents. How do I know? Because I made the comment about the music TO MYSELF. So yes, not only was I talking to myself, like most parents seem to do but I was making a parental comment to myself.

Please. Help. Me.

I may have mentioned my daughter a time or two and her not-so-well-liked boyfriend. This is again proof that I am my parents. I've lost absolutely all patience for this relationship because God love her (and so do I), my daughter is being swindled into a relationship that isn't at all what she thinks it is. Yes, she'll have to figure this out for herself and hopefully one day she will but in the mean time, I find myself wanting to shake her and say, "What! Are you an idiot! The guy doesn't give a shit about you! Get over it!" Instead, I usually say things like, "In five years this boy will mean nothing to you blah...blah...blah..." Thanks, mom. Thanks, dad.

Enough of that. I could talk about it for hours. Let's move on.

Today I met up with an old friend, someone I hadn't seen in years. Of course she looked the same and by the way, had really great eyeliner. I need green eyes so I can wear that color. Oh, sorry. Tangent. Anyway, she's a working professional and by that I do not mean prostitute but a business professional compared to me, which of course, I am not a professional at anything right now. Anyway, it was great to see her but afterward, I needed a nap. She is involved in EVERYTHING doing EVERYTHING and just listening to all she is doing made me tired. I'm pretty sure she doesn't sleep. Some people don't need it and she must be one of them.

She's that woman that knows what she wants and makes it happen. I'm that woman that still can't figure out what I want. I have that book, "The Success Principles". It's about finding your life purpose and then in 39 chapters of the book and boatloads of hard work, presto! You're a success!

I however, could not get past chapter one. In chapter one you have to define your life's purpose. THAT'S WHAT I BOUGHT THE DAMN BOOK FOR!

If I could figure THAT out, then I could work toward it and likely be successful. Once I commit to something, I'm good. It's the finding something to commit to that I'm struggling with right now.

Either way, she inspired me. Maybe a little of her energy and excitement for life has rubbed off on me and I can figure out my passion.

I have several opportunities for passion, really. I love to write. I've got books in the works and one even out scooping out publishers. I had a literary agent but he was a sham so I opted out of that contract. I've started looking for others and yesterday spent the day with my head in a book of them and for publishers that have published books similar to mine. If you are a publisher, pick me. Pick me.

The problem with writing is that I am a perfectionist. I can't just write and let the words flow like music from a violin. Instead, I re-read and re-read and re-write and re-write and I can't get past page 50 in my worlds greatest novel. My goal this month is to get past it without re-reading it and just moving forward with the story. The time to re-write is in the editing stage. Wish me luck. The concept is good and I think I can make something out of the story but I have to finish it to make that happen.

Hmm...I'm starting to feel like now is a good time to work on it. So, here I go!

Out With the Old...In With the New?

I must admit, I am so glad to see 2009 end. The year went by quickly, for which I am thankful but it was nothing short of rough. My mom was diagnosed in February and gone in June. My husband lost his job a few weeks before she passed. I gained 15 lbs from the stress of it all (15 of which I still have yet to lose, by the way) and things just generally sucked. The stress was overwhelming at times. My husband is wonderful but there's only so much each of us can handle and we spent more time bickering than normal. Thankfully we're solid, even though we do, at times, drive each other crazy.

I have lived by the theory, "That which does not kill us, makes us stronger" so if I consider last year, I'm a freaking powerhouse now.

I have always made resolutions and never really kept any of them. In an effort to feel successful, I've still made resolutions but I've made ones I'm confident I can keep. In light of the new year, I've decided to give up drinking, drugs and smoking.

It's amazing how easy it is to give up something I don't do! Instant success!

Okay, seriously, I have decided not to have any 'resolutions' this year but to effectively work towards making my life and my self, better. I don't look at it as having resolutions because I believe that to be a trigger word for failure. Instead, I'm doing what I should be doing but focusing more on it than I may have had the opportunity to in the past.

Because last year was so stressful, my husband and I, as I mentioned, bickered often. He is very involved in this business he's started and I am working hard to be supportive. I get that he's busy and I get that he's a control freak. We made a decision that he would 'opt out' of the daily decisions around the house to focus his time working. It was a mutual thing however he continued to forget that each time he didn't like a decision I made. Frankly, that really pisses me off. It caused some stupid, senseless arguments that didn't get resolved and I was starting to feel a bit resentful. We talked it through recently and while there's still no answer, I do feel better about it. I'm working on figuring out a way to handle his at-will participation. Maybe he'll get bored and move on to something else. One can hope.

I've decided that this year, I really have to focus on me. I spend so much time family-focused that I tend to neglect myself. Which is why I feel pretty crappy a lot of the time. There are several things I've wanted to do. Half-started projects that never seem to get completed because guilt sets in or something more important comes up. This year, I plan to finish them. My books are something I'm going to really focus on. I'm hoping to have them out to publishers by August. It's a long process but I will eventually get it done. Once I give up the perfectionist issues attached to them, that is.

Many other Carolyn-centered things come to mind but I'm not going to detail them. I've learned that talking is pointless when it comes to this stuff. It's the doing that counts and I'm ready for the doing. It's time to start living life again, not sitting on the sidelines feeling empty without a mom, or frustrated because I do everything for everyone else and rarely get a thank you (though I get a boatload of eye rolls, that's for sure!)

It's my year and I'm looking forward to it.

I Want to Age Like Meryl Streep

Went to see "It's Complicated" again yesterday with my friend. Once you get past the fact that Alec Baldwin is old, it's a great flick. What's sad about it though, is I can easily relate to how the character Meryl Streep plays feels about herself.

She's aging, she's finally comfortable with herself, she's a bit afraid to show herself naked in daylight. She wants to take life a little less seriously and she is ready to do things for herself. Well, she's already started that but that's because the character is divorced. I'm not so that part I can't quite relate to.

Her ex-husband is remarried to a rather young, physically fit (but not all that hot, if you ask me) woman and it's still quite shocking to MS's character. I'm curious when I started siding with the older woman and didn't feel some sort of connection to the younger one?

WHAT'S HAPPENED? When did I age and why didn't anyone tell me?

I haven't really ever been a fan of Meryl. I never disliked her. She was just always that older woman in a whole bunch of movies. Some I saw, some I didn't. But watching her in this and in Julie & Julia recently, I've really comet to enjoy her.

She doesn't seem to have given into the pressure for plastic surgery and while she's not some extremely fit, wrinkle free woman, she's aging beautifully and has the class of a queen. She talks wonderfully, carries herself well and radiates confidence.

That's what I want to be next year, when I'm 'older'.

My Tarot Reading for 2010

I have a friend that is a professional Tarot reading. Not one of those 'for entertainment purposes only' kinds but a true honest to goodness Tarot reader. She's read my cards many times and sadly, none of them mention me getting the hot bod I've always wanted but that's okay. Probably the cards are old; you know, from a time when hot bods looked different than they do today.

She read my cards for this coming year. I found it to be interesting. I know there is some 'give' to the deciphering of the meaning surrounding what each card means but I believe she has a good handle on where they take her and it's not primarily left to her imagination.

Here's her reading: (as she said, generalized for 2010)...

First card down is the Emperor, which means a tremendous expression of will power and control.
I like this card. This card tells me I have will power and control. That makes me happy considering I've felt a total lack of both in the past year.

Crossing that is The Tower, which means the will power and control will constantly be challenged and broken down.
This card I don't like as much. I don't mind the will power and control being challenged but I could go without the whole "broken down" part of it.

The foundation is the 5 of swords, which means trying to "clean up after a battle" and get things back in place. I believe this is the restructuring of your life and yourself after processing the grief from your mother's death.
This card holds very important words for me. Restructuring of my life and myself is something I've been 'planning' to do. I say planning because I'm still trying to figure out how to get to that point. I'm working through my grief and starting to work towards wanting things again instead of simply going through the motions of life but it's a process and it takes time. Knowing that the goal is in sight is helpful.

Passing away and out of focus is the 2 of wands, which is a strong partnership. I think this might be the attachment you have to your mother's physical presence rather than her spiritual one.

When I first read this, I felt frustrated. As a matter of fact, I'm still frustrated by it. Of course I have an attachment to my mothers physical presence. I'd like to have an attachment to her spiritual one but for me, it's lost. Perhaps I will find it this coming year. Perhaps she is here with me and I'm still too far in my grief to feel her yet but the fact is, I don't. I'm hoping what my friend did not write is that this year I feel begin to feel that attachment to her physical presence become less important and that I will find her spiritual one but I'm fairly certain she won't make that type of prediction. Knowing how important this is to me, I'm sure she doesn't want to step into that arena just yet.


What is in the works to come into being is the 9 of pentacles, which is a strong, confident woman who is able to take care of herself on many levels.
I have always been a confident woman, strong through many obstacles and issues in my life and while I feel slightly weakened by the loss of my mother, I am confident I will work through this loss and feel the strength I felt before. She will help me wtih that, I'm sure.

What is in the future is the 3 of cups, which means celebration, parties, joyfulness.
I have not been much for social activities or joyfulness and can use some of that right about now so I'm going to work toward this being right!

Over the self is the High Priestess, which is a re-exploration of the spiritual self.
I don't know if there is a spiritual self for me. For years I've felt like there should be more depth, an awakening if you will, for me but I got nothin. I try and try and I end up feeling fairly superficial and boring (for lack of a better term). I am hoping that the benefit from my mother passing is that I will have a stronger relationship with God and whatever that may entail for me. I'm feeling drawn to certain things but nothing concrete enough yet to blog about. Once I figure them out, I will.

Over the environment is the Knight of wands, which is a new energy level change, feeling physically well and vibrant.
I can certainly use that. It's time. Believe me, it's time.

Over the hopes and fears is a long term, secure family.
I take this to mean that my relationship with my husband and my family is solid and for that I am grateful. I'd like to try harder this year to enjoy it more and not take him for granted. As much. :)

Over the outcome is the Star, which is finding your goal and letting it be the power that guides you along your life path.
This is something I've been working through a lot lately. Since I turned 40, actually. What is my purpose? My life goal? My passion? I've decided that my passion doesn't have to be a job, a goal or anything specific but that my passion is simply, me. I need to be passionate about me. About my life. About living my life. Experiencing it and doing what makes me happy and helps me to grow in the ways I want to grow. This is my passion and this is the goal I will continue to strive to achieve. Will it be easy? Probably not but that's okay. Living life to its fullest is never easy but it's worth the effort.

I've printed out this reading and am keeping it in my journal. Yes, I have a journal again. I used to journal, years ago but haven't felt inspired to for a long time. Part of my plan is to start journaling again and to work through my thoughts on paper - maybe I'll sleep better at night.

I'm looking forward to 2010. I have big plans for me. I hope you have big plans for yourself, too. Truth be told, there were a lot of rough times in 2009 but there were a lot of good times too. I choose to look back at the year and see the good things, not the bad. I choose to remember the time I spent with my mom and feel confident that she knew I loved her with all of my heart. I choose to relish the new friends I made and the strength that came back into some of my old friendships, too. I choose to build from those feelings and continue down a path of positivity instead of dwelling on that which I can't control.

Happy New Year.