Vacation Bliss and Sick Daze: Whirlwind Unwound

Well, it's been awhile. I'm welcoming myself back into things as I type. Where have I been? Well, with the exception of a great trip, I have been nowhere awesome. In fact, I had been so ill last week I just couldn't pull it together to write, but I'm back and rebuilding in every which way to finish this year strong.

We had driven from left coast Florida to Hilton Head Island South Carolina for a Savannah, Georgia wedding and had a trip that caused my best friend to text me and tell me to do whatever it was we were doing more, so that the joy captured on my face was there way more often.

We had fun at the beach, we did some learning about the area, we went to a petting zoo, played a round of mini golf, we got treats galore! We were living our best lives as the cool kids say. We weren't breaking the bank, which was beyond amazing for us, too. That allowed for more relaxation in fact.

After a great family weekend with one minor speed bump, which now in retrospect is so telling it's almost creepy, I came home to one of the nastiest illnesses I have ever experienced.

Our last night we went to a restaurant my husband wanted to try. Full disclosure, I really don't enjoy going out to dinner. Breakfast out is a dream, lunches I can handle, but dinner with a 6 year old out, is like a race against time before she's done and you just want to relax and get your money's worth.

First I ordered a peach bellini, thinking it would be one way and it came out with more pulp than all of Florida's orange juice. I don't send things back. I also major in passive aggression. I will not complain and I don't want conflict. My husband is Mr. Restaurant Man and encouraged me to send it back, so I did. It was not an easy thing and actually caused a bit of a strain between us because I can get a little high strung in those situations and often over-stress it. 

When we ordered I tried to be adventurous and when I got my food it was lacking. After the humiliation and strain of the drink send back I didn't want to make another fuss and be "that customer" of the evening. The cole slaw on my tacos tasted weird, so I made the hubby try it. I said, is it like "bad" or a flavor that I'm not into? He said it was fine, I grinned and finished up, we headed to ice cream. For ice cream I ordered a blue cookie monster thing and then made everyone laugh at my blue tongue, blue lips and blue teeth to lighten the evening. We walked off the food and returned for the last night in the condo. I hit the hot tub for all of 10 minutes but then started to feel off.

I will admit that I'm that person who has physical trouble on her travels, meaning, my body gets off its normal schedule, if you get what I mean. In new places with unreliable bathroom use, my body gets tense and tends to stay that way until nature has it's way and wins. My husband made me a probiotic tea at the first mention of my tummy being off. It seemed to get some things feeling better. I slept. We got up early to see the sun rise before the long day in the car.

I was not even kind of hungry. I just wanted coffee. The coffee seemed to help the second act of whatever my tummy was going through. I didn't have solid food until 11AM and started with crackers. Then my husband and I shared some chicken salad. It wasn't until we were 2 hours from home I finally caved and got fast food. I got Taco Bell and at the time it was amazing and gave me the push through for the final stretch. However, as soon we were home and comfy I started to feel even more off. And so it began.

I will spare you the gory details, this is not that kind of blog, but let's just say my body was rebelling against either, dinner the night before, or the cheesy gordita crunch or all of the above. I had more tea and more calming food and still, things were leaving my body swiftly and I was having the most intense stomach cramps I have ever experienced. As the night went on it was coupled with fever and chills and long showers and midday naps weren't cutting it. I called into work Monday, with no choice but to rest. I got a weird second wind Monday and changed our sheets, convincing myself I would be fine the next day after all the extra sleep, and a bowl of pasta. 

Monday night was another sleepless night but I was going to work, come hell or high water. I hit the grocery store for reserves after rolling out of bed, taking a long shower, throwing on clothes, resting in bed another 10 minutes and then pulling it together enough to get myself to the store and the office. I got to the office 20 minutes early and napped in my car. I just had to make it to lunch I told myself.

I was on a steady diet of ginger ale, gatorade, water, and all I wanted was applesauce. I had cheese as the secondary option for protein. On my lunch I took a car nap then woke up violently needing to hit the bathroom. I started to have horrible cramping to the point where I felt faint, and then another ugly symptom came up and that's when I called in the hubby. He told me it was time to leave work, and go to urgent care, enough was enough.

My bosses were fine with me leaving early and I made it to urgent care in about 30 minutes. They warned me of a two hour wait. It only took me about 30 minutes before I got to a room, and my husband came to join me later. When the doctor came in, I had left out some important and gross symptoms my husband filled in for him, and apparently I warranted one injection and 2 prescriptions.

I was uncomfortable and in an haze. Ironically the shot was administered through none other than my butt and a very young, attractive woman who was a nurse practitioner had to see my old pale rear end to give me my injection to feel better. I will say my color came back quickly and I was released to go home and rest. The residual migraine stayed with me and off I went to get better. I had to take Wednesday off as well.

On Wednesday while the meds were working their magic I felt very spacey, almost high. I watched all the things on "the big TV," I normally wouldn't be allowed to if the kid were home. I tried to stay up all day so I could sleep well that night. I wasn't allowed to work out while I was on the meds and my husband check in on me that I was just resting and trying to get in some calories.

I had lost about 6 lbs in 2 days. Most women would jump for joy. I'm not even kind of "most women." This was killing me. I wanted my body back. I missed things like coffee, having any kind of appetite, wanting real food or meat and not having to go to the bathroom after every meal. I missed not feeling so thirsty and feeling like I actually knew my body. I felt like my body was just rebelling like "how could you!?" 

It wasn't until exactly a week later, last night, that I could eat at normal capacity. This morning was my first cup of coffee in over a week. After all of this, after everything, I realize how important it is to take care of myself in more ways than one. After I went to urgent care my daughter said "Mom, it was not a good idea for you to go to work this morning!" She wasn't wrong.

On the one hand, showing my make-up-less struggling, slightly smelly self was proof that I was actually not okay. On the other, it did me no favors. I was stupid grateful for my husband and daughter being supportive. I was also grateful the dog gave me endless healing cuddles. My bosses were amazing, with no guilt, and that helped me heal as well. 

This morning was my first workout back and I had to take it slow. I'm usually the last one to go after western medicine as the healing but I couldn't wait it out, and now I'm back to finish this year off and here is where I'm idling:

I can only do what I can with what is before me. This year has been one of healing and growth and we have made some serious moves in our family life and personal lives. It's been really hard. I've had to admit some stuff about my life, my family and myself that I don't want to. I've had to face some old traumas. I've had to grow UP.  Next year will be more of that.

I'm here and lucky to be here with the family that is mine and the good health I have. It is my job to make the most of the time I have on this planet. There will continue to be good days and bad days, vacation bliss and sick days and life's whirlwind may wind me up and keep me spinning but I just need to keep my focal point so as not to lose my balance.

I plan on finishing this year of blogging as intended and I'm not sure what 2020 will look like for writing. I appreciate all of you taking the time to read along and will be working on new topics this week and through the holidays. I'm back in action and hope to not be knocked down any time again soon!

Sore Makes Me Less Sorry For Myself

I had an old friend check in on me yesterday. Whenever life mentally beats me down, I kind of go hermit and hide from people. I start to refrain from checking in and just kind of try and keep afloat. We have become better in the last year of the every few months check in and as someone who I would consider one of my closest friends and someone I admire in life and motherhood, her check in came in right on time.

Having confessed to her last year my personal struggles with all things life and then finding out hers was similar and not all smiles and cute kids, she always asks about my big struggle. Yesterday I told her "I work out, A LOT, to burn off some of the stress."

I added an "LOL," to lighten the heaviness that might come with that commentary and realized this morning how happy I'd felt all week being so sore and sleeping so well, because I had kicked my butt physically. I think being sore made me feel less sorry for myself after my relapse of high anxiety and deep depression last weekend.

I think it's something that can be hard for people to grasp but because my mind is often like a hamster spinning on a wheel to nowhere, a focused workout or even a treadmill run takes all my mental energy and harnesses it for good, leaving me able to rest at ease later. I wish I could call it a vanity thing like I wanted to be "hot" and "slim" but that has almost nothing to do with it. I like to look healthy, which has a wide definition, different for everyone, but skinny is not my goal.

When I had my first realization of how deep my depression and anxiety where I was about 22 or 23. I had lost both of my grandparents within a year and my mom had a cancer scare with a large tumor removed. I had been through a lot with personal relationships and was mid-college trying to figure out this thing called life. In my therapy they emphasized the importance of routine, physical activity and structure. 

I would say I religiously follow that rule about my personal struggle with depression and anxiety that physical activity is tantamount to my mental recovery. I always feel badly when I don't work out and the sore is better than the sorry for myself. I always catch myself being at my worst when and if I'm not moving around enough.

Working out has always been my therapy, especially when we couldn't afford someone for me to talk to. When I work out it's usually just myself and my music. Music is therapy part two. There is nothing I can't do, and no mental anguish if I have the perfect play list, even if that play list is all depressing stuff.

I rest better at night, both physically and mentally, when I know I have physically exhausted myself. This can sound kind of masochistic but I actually just love that sense of accomplishment. I know plenty of people who live on protein shakes and hardcore diets and serious fitness goals and I'm happy that works for them, but I like knowing I can indulge in ice cream guilt free because I kicked my ass throughout the day.

When I feel sore, not only am I far less sorry for myself in general, but I know I did something right to keep feeling that work out as the day goes on. Yesterday I was laughing out loud at how much it hurt from soreness to run and to do other exercises because I had given myself consistently great workouts throughout the week. 

This morning I realized how imperative my workouts are for everything. I recently started taking my daughter to the gym with me. Not only is she old enough to actually take in what I'm doing, but she can sit and chill while I get my workout in, and if it's slow enough, join me a bit. Now my mom gave me a huge complex about my body, which I am fighting tooth and nail to NOT to do my daughter at all. I always tell her she's fantastic. "Fat" is like a swear word in our house. I want her to understand health and happiness, so I try to lead by example.

Some people may view my twice daily workouts five days a week as excessive or obsessive. But one could also say the same for Keto-dieters, taking all kinds of supplements or meal-planning, weight watchers and so on and so forth. To each their own. For me it is 90% mental health practices and 10% fitness related.

Also, I like working out. It is something I actually enjoy. I don't "enjoy" running but I'll do it sometimes. I do my best to make anything that makes me sore, at least less of a chore than other things. We all have workouts we like, and workouts we don't. I try and keep a decent mix.

For me working out is part of health care. It's preventative and part of a healthy lifestyle. Look I eat cookies, and cake, and many "unhealthy" things but all in moderation. So working out is meant to bring me some balance, both physically and mentally. It's what I strive for.

I think it would be easy to see my posts and say I'm a work-out-aholic. It could be easy to exchange one form of obsession or compulsion for another, but I think the work out obsession may be safer than a binge-eating situation. Some of the most functional people I know have a good workout routine and decent eating habits, even if they have a cheat day from time to time.

After my recent mental mis-step I'm just taking pride in the fact that I'm very aware of what to do to get myself back on my feet, so to speak. I know what my mind and body need and I'm not afraid or ashamed to share that. I love that being sore keeps away the "sorrys." I don't need to throw myself a pity party because we all have our mental woes. I need to continue to heal, and continue to grow. My fitness regimes feed that growth and healing and keep those endorphins flowing freely!

Also, Elle Woods is my girl so, I kinda like to follow her life model. Happy Friday!

Don't Let Your Photos Fool Yourself

I haven been slowly getting back into my blogging groove and today was feeling it a bit more, when something funny happened. I don't have the TimeHop thingy but in Facebook the only thing I enjoy anymore is the "on this day" memories thing. Mostly it's cute dog and kid pictures, but sometimes there are good motivational things on there. 

Today something popped up and it is blog-worthy. This photo came up from 2 years ago of my good old boot camp days:

I looked at it nostalgically and then looked at it again and was like, oh I must have been doing Savage Races then or working out a lot, I look really skinny! And then I looked at the date. In August of 2017, mentally, physically, spiritually and in all walks of life I was completely miserable and very unhealthy. I remember having some things to look forward to but my health was horrible.

I even looked back into my google photos and every other picture of me, I look heavier, frumpy even because I was indulging in unhealthy habits like drinking too much, too often, not eating enough or eating junk at every chance, only working out 3 days a week and mentally I was completely falling apart, desperate to hold it together.

Ironically this morning I woke up excited to hit the gym. I was excited it was Wednesday with only a couple more work days to power through. I was having a great week. So to prove how deceiving a good picture can be I did a work bathroom selfie below:

Here's what two things I will bring up that are important. Some people might say, it's the same except I'm not in workout clothes. Let me tell you what I see in picture two, and remember that we are our own worst critics so some of this will be me, not being nice to myself and some of it may come across as way too narcissistic, just go with it for now.

In that first picture I'm forcing a 6AM smile, probably sucking it in. In today's picture I'm being the poster girl for Old Navy and rocking an outfit I LOVE. I have felt very thick lately but have also completely re-vamped my workout routine and schedule and am working hard on what matters to me. I don't hate my body today. I love my body today.

In that first pic, I hated my body. How do I know this? Because I was treating every part of it like garbage two years ago. I remember being so upset two years ago but putting on my happy face daily. Every day was "if I can get to x,y,z I'll be okay. I'd had a ridiculous summer of selfishness and mental anguish and was trying to snap out of it. 

Today, I realize how much my body has done for me. I'm so thankful for not being on thyroid meds even though I've been struggling with some of the health stuff that comes along with keeping it natural over here. I'm thankful that I take the stairs every day and that I'm strong enough to feel sore when I push my limits. I'm thankful for every curve. I'd rather be thick and living my life happy, than be 30 pounds lighter afraid to eat a cupcake.

It's so easy to let any and all pictures fool yourself. I don't care if it's jealousy of others or of past versions of yourself. It's easy to forget what was really happening at those times when we just see the smiling snapshot. 

While I love that Facebook and google keep these memories for us, I'm always met with mixed feelings as to what they mean. I can usually recall what vague posts were about. I can usually remember what was going on around a picture or status update. Some of them are fantastic memories. Some of them are not so much. 

Don't let the photos fool you into thinking that what you have now is necessarily bad. Maybe you are going through a dark patch. Maybe things for you are just shitty but I urge you to try and snap a selfie, even if it's not a smiley pretty one. You'll revisit it later and think "oh yeah, I'm glad I let myself feel and be real in that moment," I think. 

I'm glad I have pictures of me looking great and looking not so awesome, why? Because that's ME. I'm glad I have pictures OF ME BEING ME, whether I was in a good place or not because it's all part of the journey. Today I'm glad I wanted to small and show off my budget fashions. Today I'm glad that this post came pouring out of me and I feel triumphant and free. 

You'll look over thousands of photos but don't be fooled by them, be inspired. There was some silly rom-com I loved, I think it was called "Just Married," and there is a line in there I always liked about how, you never see pictures of the bad times, just the good but the bad times are what gets you the stories and memories you need between the photos. Keep that idea close on this Wednesday and remember that everything is temporary. It's just one day at a time!