The Flashback

It happened just a year after the car accident. I had started my wonderful new job in Clearwater and it was a super normal day. We worked in a commercial business office building downtown and that particular warm summer day there was a fire drill. Down some 8 flights of stairs myself and the one other female in the office that day, grabbed purses in case and vacated.

All the smokers huddled in one area, and everyone that worked in the building was down outside the office. That's when it happened. I saw him. I saw the guy that hit us with his red Ford F-150, totaled our car and put my kid in a wheelchair for a summer. I saw him for the first time since that day.

It actually happened like they portray in the movies. I saw him and was like "Where do I recognize him from," and saw a flash of passing him in the hall at a church we tried for a few months, but then saw him from that day and had a violent flashback. I could hear my heartbeat just like in a movie, but the rest of my hearing became faint as I went back to that day, me sitting bloody on an embankment, a security guard that stopped holding my daughter as she wined and her legs started to get purple, my husband's head bleeding and completely disoriented sitting beside me and then I saw him crouched down near me apologizing and swearing and freaking out.

Now when I replay it I feel like I was missing that music from Kill Bill when she remembers everyone standing over her and you hear the sirens and old music indicating the enemy she revisits. That was me.

It honestly took my breath away and I could feel my face change in the horror of realization. I gathered myself a bit and had an impulse to go talk to him but something stopped me. I text and messaged some friends about the incident and everyone responded the same, "OMG ARE YOU OKAY?" It hadn't dawned on me how traumatic it was until later.

Later I realized I hadn't gone up to him because I was afraid he wouldn't remember us, which would piss me off, no infuriate me more likely. Part of me wanted to go up and tell him that although he knocked us down a few pegs, that he should know we're okay and that especially my daughter had recovered. But if he somehow didn't remember, it would bring out the kind of mama bear that might actually harm him, or try. I wanted to scream at him how he better have learned to be a better driver, and that I hope he had nightmares about that day, but it would have served no purpose.

It was a surreal moment. Sometimes it still haunts me. Just the way I flashed back was so intense and real. When you watch movies like that, you think it's an over-dramatization but for me it was anything but. I felt such a weird rush too, like I was back in that moment on that day I had to breathe deeply and reboot. 

It's rare that I have those kind of flashbacks but my PTSD is still incredibly real. It's not something that just goes away. Sometimes it sucks having to be the memory of that accident for everyone. Although the people who visited the hospital have their own memories of seeing us too, but for my husband and daughter I remember it all.

I remember there were no screeching brakes or warning signals. I remember the broken glass, the shatter sound and the airbags. I remember that faint humming from right after the impact and my immediately coming to, hulk-mama style ready to check on my baby. She was unconscious from the impact a minute and so was my husband. 

I remember not being able to open my car door being the scariest. I remember screaming for help and wanting my baby out of that car and yelling at Eben to get it together. My most recent flashback to the day was last year. My husband and I were in a rental car driving in California and ended up behind a Volkswagen, the very same model of the one we were behind when we got hit and for whatever reason he said the exact same thing he said to me a mere two minutes before impact. He said "What kind of Volvo is that even? That thing looks ridiculous."

When we were driving in California and he said that, with me in the passenger seat and him driving, even though my daughter wasn't there I looked at him annoyed like he was playing a joke and referencing the day. Then the flashback wave came over me and full panic attack began. I said, "Oh my God get away from that car!" I bent myself over in the car trying to catch a breath. I yelled at him, "You don't remember? How do you not remember? That was the fucking car! THAT WAS THE SAME KIND OF CAR AND WE SAID THE SAME THING!" 

My husband helped calm me and reminded me he had no idea. I told him that right before we got hit we had some disagreement, some stupid disagreement and he broke the tension with a joke about the Volvo in front of us, the same one we just passed two years later, in California of all places. Also, I swear when I'm stressed, sorry not sorry.

It's rare I talk about this stuff because people act as though I'm making it worse than it was. Few people have a gauge for what trauma like that does to a person so I keep a lot of the residual effects to myself and try to use everything in my coping tool box to keep me going.

I try my best not to impose excess anxiety upon these days but be aware and grateful. Whenever my daughter wants to talk about it, we talk about it as long as she wants because I want her to feel safe with telling me things about anything always. When asked about it I don't shy away, but in general you won't find me open up the discussion.

This is the first year I don't feel the full weight of it. I don't feel like we're still submersed in the wreckage, which makes me happier about it. For that, among everything else I'm grateful. I hope I never run into that bad driver again, but I leave most things up to the universe in retrospect. With that, I'm ready to see what this Tuesday has to offer! 

Week Of Anniversaries - Some Better Than Others

So, Thursday marks a decade since I graduated college. Friday marks a decade of marriage. Saturday marks a decade since we left Oregon to start our journey to Florida, and 3 years since the car accident. The car accident anniversary is murky; everything else is good, happy milestones.

Graduating college was a trip. It was something else and it was definitely overshadowed by the wedding, but I kind of liked it that way. My college stuff was rough. I still have some resentment because I literally found out my last semester that I was in the completely wrong program for what I actually wanted to do with my life. But, we continue.

If you look at our wedding now, it was unimpressive. To us, it was this huge send off into life together and literally everyone pitched in. The dads split the venue, my sister helped with the cake, my other sister bought a bunch of wine, my dad did the ceremony and helped with my dress, too. We did a lot on our own. My husband catered it with a friend and his mom bought the supplies. Our friend brought a PA system and I made a playlist on my iPod he played. The boy I nanny-ed for all those year played songs on guitar too. Everyone had a blast.

It was after that we moved away and started a life that was just ours. We've struggled a lot. Our past handful of anniversaries have been less fantastic. For our first anniversary we went to St. Augustine and had a blast. After that, with the exception of a quick overnight when in Pennsylvania we have been with the little one and just tried to grab a dinner.

This weekend is a night away about 90 minutes away from home and I'm ridiculously excited honestly. It's been a long time since we wanted to make the effort to spend time together. Last year we stole 3 days together, not anniversary related but we barely even have a date night anymore so this is kind of a big deal.

We will be driving on the car accident anniversary, which makes me a bit nervous, but I love being further and further away from that day. My daughter talks about it a lot. She isn't afraid to discuss it at all, and I always answer her questions and tell her how it was because she only remembers bits and pieces. Even my husband has a rough time remembering.

It's so weird thinking about all of this. A decade being married, a decade of no longer being a student and fully a part of the working world, and 3 years far from that horrible day. All in the span of 3 days.

This is the first year in a long time none of it has plagued me, I'm not just feeling completely weighed down. I want a one night break. I want to just enjoy each other. I don't want to be afraid to drive.

My best friend told me that marriage is made up of a lot of bad years and her husband always says he wants to get those over with so they can just make it to the good. I wholeheartedly agree. And this is the first time in a long time that I've felt like maybe year 10 could be a wholehearted good one. 

The Cry-O-Meter of Mom-ness

Mothering is exhausting, grueling, rewarding and difficult. Being a mom is an intense experience, period. Sometimes I feel like my mom-ness is off from others and one of those ways is the crying factor.

I'm an angry frustrated crier. Anger comes out of my eyeballs in water form and when I'm infuriated it's almost like a full tantrum. But I don't cry much for other things like first days of school, last days of school, awards and new horizons.

Don't get me wrong, my daughter is my everything and I know I was put on this earth to be her mother, but it's not always a cupcakes and rainbows job. Let's face it, she's probably my only child at this rate, and I work hard to just enjoy every phase with her, but my cry-o-meter seems to be off from other moms.

I don't know if it's because we've had a rough 6 years but I don't cry when I drop her at school on the first day. I may well up a bit, or just feel "Wow, what an incredible milestone," but I'm not weeping with joy and love. Ew, that's not me. I'm not gushy in that way.

I cried when she was being tortured in the hospital for failure to thrive with stomach tubes and blood draws and not being allowed to take her home to heal. I cried after the car accident that she was bruised and cut, bloodied and whining while I looked at the wreckage. I cried when they found out her legs were broken and she kept yelling at the nurses, "leave me alone! Ow! I want my mommy!" I cried when I had to sleep train her and she destroyed my doll house and I had to clean up everything alone but had to stand my ground. That's my mom crying.

I've been up nights crying hoping I could care for her on my own if I needed. I've cried when she has come to comfort me telling me I would be okay or we would be okay. I cried during Irma when we were sleeping in a huge pile of uncertainty ready to face the storm. But no, I didn't cry on her last day of school.

School stuff is cute and cuddly, for sure, but she's still so little. She's not on some path to Harvard. She's just being a kid. I want to let her be as much of a kid as she can. I also work full time and have all kinds of mental health things to work out, a husband to support in more ways than one, and a household to run so volunteering to pass out juice in class isn't a priority.

I don't buy her "first day" outfits. I don't perfectly manicure pictures of her much. I let her be herself as much as possible because she is growing up fast and sometimes I just want to sit back and watch. I don't want to fight over homework or projects, I just want to sit back in awe of her becoming a grown person and know that I helped make that happen.

Any moms that make time to be very hands on are my heroes, but it just ain't me. I'm not the mom that will make fantastic snacks and set up elaborately constructed play dates. I'm not the mom that keeps her in style and up with the cool trends. 

I'm the mom that feels the overwhelming emotion when I see her have a thoughtful reaction to a friend or loved one in need. I'm the mom that wells up when she decides to unload the dishwasher without being asked, because she wants to let mommy rest. I'm the mom that snuggles and does face masks and makes popcorn and lets her do what she wants (within reason).

I'm not sure where that all fits on the Cry-O-Meter for motherhood but it definitely triggers some interesting feelings. When I have other moms ask if I've cried or not I just try to play it off kindly because at this stage in my life, I'm just so happy with how far we've come and so consumed with keeping positive momentum, that I don't have time to cry over how fast time is going, rather I just want to enjoy the fact that I get to be in her life.

This isn't to say that moms that cry out of missing their babies be babies are some how inferior or "wussy" or "soft" in any way! I'm always there to hug you and hand you the tissues! I just don't get hit that way and props to you for letting it all come out!

I think we all have weird Cry-O-Meter dials and some days are better than others. I think all moms feel like they fail regularly, sometimes even daily, but what's important is that we are moms! We just have to mother the crap out of them no matter how many tears! And with those thoughts, I usher in the summer before I have a first grader. Here we go!

The Reasons Why I Think Netflix's Series "Maniac" Is A Gorgeous Mental Health Awareness Journey

Netflix released a show called "Maniac" which has been on my "I have to sit down and watch that" list for almost a year or whenever it first came out. I love Emma Stone and Jonah Hill, especially together.

I was probably the only person on the planet who didn't understand all the fuss about La La Land. Don't get me wrong, Emma Stone performed wonderfully, sang and danced like a champ, but the plot went from weird to worse and then was so utterly depressing I would have rather just subjected myself to the Notebook twice in a row. On top of that I found the only cute scene to be the one where they are literally dancing around their own attraction, but who doesn't want to stare at Ryan Gosling? So, I lost 2 hours of my life, whatever.

I consider Maniac as Emma Stone's personal apology to me for La La Land, as ridiculous as that may seem, it makes me feel better to think of it that way. I found the series to be a strange triumph.

I'll keep spoilers to a minimum as I encourage you to watch on your own, but it's futuristic, trippy, sometimes a little out there, gripping, dramatic and emotional.

Long story short, in a somewhat futuristic version of NYC we meet Jonah Hill's character, who is immediately shown as confused and quickly outed as mentally unstable. This is followed by meeting Emma Stone, who is definitely fragile, possibly addicted and reliving some trauma, by her own choice.

The stories wind you all over, but Emma Stone and Jonah Hill end up testing a pharmaceutical drug to "fix" your mental and emotional trauma from some new futuristic company run primarily by forms of Artificial Intelligence. It takes us inside the minds of Stone and Hill for these weird dream-like reflections of what actually happened to them in real life, or some semblance of it. Somehow, against every programming issue and all odds, Hill and Stone keep meeting in each other's dream sequence as if the universe is pushing them together.

Throughout the series they drop these beautiful little hints to say, "big pharma can't cure," that's what therapy is for. Little nuances of "therapy is good but invokes complicated emotions," and "addiction is another hurdle of these advertised cures, by the way" are peppered throughout the story, along with other weird life truths that are often glossed over in most series with comedy, instead of confronted.

I will spoil a little, this is not a love story or even romantic. It's more, bonding through shared trauma and understanding how messed up things can be. It touched my heart by the end of it, to know that you could embrace your struggles if you have the right tribe:

I think we often find ourselves in a place where we feel like we need to find a cure for our ills and for most of society, we self medicate with what we can get our hands on: alcohol, recreational drugs, coffee, soda, food, cigarettes, the gym, how we eat, the list can go on and on. 

Then we see great advertisements offering a "cure" for your anxiety, depression and so on and so forth when really we just need to face the demons. This whole facing your inner demons thing is handled quite intensely and beautifully throughout the series for almost every character with which it is associated. It's figuratively, metaphorically and plainly executed throughout the stories, now that I think about it, and it's entertaining as hell.

This was one of those shows I just couldn't stop watching in terms of, you're locked on the screen because you need to try and make sense of it all. There are so many facets within that you're like, "Is that real, or imagined?"

It was darkly funny and ironic at moments, but ultimately very dramatic and heartfelt. Starting the series came to me at a time when I needed it most. It was a wonderful distraction but also kind of a reminder that even in dark, uncertain, weird mental times, you can find commonality and friendships.

If you can't get into the dreamy, whimsical fantasy mixed with bits of reality, you may not be able to get into it, but I for one found it refreshing and comforting. I commend Jonah Hill and Emma Stone for their artistic adventure. Currently this only has one season, and they ended it in such a way that a second season isn't necessary, but I'm kind of open to it.

Happy Wednesday readers! If you need a weekend binge-watch, you're welcome!

The Two Tattoos

We are a few months away from the 3 year anniversary of the car accident and I love leaving it further and further behind. We all have physical scars, but I took some of mine to the very next level and today I'm going to tell the story and truths behind those scars.

Our wonderful lawyer kept us out of the courtroom for our whole car accident litigation. It was a rough learning experience for me and really overwhelming on top of my kid in a wheelchair and busted up husband in pain. I had head staples and bruises, but no other physical injuries that were extensive enough to claim much of anything, and when we had the mediation, I'll never forget the other lawyer, condescendingly coming to tell me the worst of the news.

My husband and daughter were well taken care of. Besides the head staples and bruises, I walked away with an epic case of PTSD that to this day still comes at me sometimes, but that's not much cause for any part in litigation. When they started talking about the division of funds and hospital bills coverage the other lawyer said, "Well, you didn't really have extensive enough injuries, nor did you have a real hospital stay for you to be awarded much for the case."

I had to hold my tongue until he left the room and then whispered to my husband, "I'm sorry, you're not damaged enough? Is that what he just said?" My husband just did his calm down quelling and sighed at me. My anger and anxieties flared into a momentary frenzy of, "Yeah she was left with a kid in a wheelchair and a husband in constant pain needing shoulder surgery and all the stress of everything else, having to re-potty train her kid, cleaning, getting her daughter in and out of the wheelchair, getting up to give her more tylenol for her broken legs because her husband's broken ribs wouldn't allow him to physically help, and I almost got out in the middle of highway 19 a week after the car accident in a traumatic panic attack being near the scene, I have nightmares, but sure it's all fine right!?? YOU'RE NOT DAMAGED ENOUGH!???"

I sighed feeling defeated but signed away all the things just wanting to be done with everything. We later had a one on one with a judge after my daughter's second surgery, the drama having spanned almost 8 months, and I just wanted it to be over and done.

It was in the midst of all of this and all the mayhem that I reconnected with my music. As ridiculous as this may sound, it was Hanson that completely saved me when I revisited their album, "Underneath." I've found that, especially since the car accident, too many of my favorite bands and artists songs, have completely new, and relevant meaning in current time frames and I've intensely embraced them. We'll come back to this part later.

Still being angry that I was somehow made to be inferior in comparison and unscathed from the accident, I decided, "Oh, I'll show you some pain from the accident alright. I can take the pain."

I'm not sure what about me sends the message of "Wuss," but I can physically handle more than most people think I can. In fact the only time I think I deserve "wuss" status is anywhere near a snake, not joking, I am insanely, panic-attack-worthy, terrified of snakes. Anything non-snakey, I am a boss.

I actually have a higher tolerance for pain, it's a redhead thing I guess. I pushed out my child with no drugs, yes, a completely natural birth. I've hurt myself often and power through, although have never had a broken bone, just sprains. My back tattoo hurt a lot when I was 18, but I didn't cry or complain. With this in mind, that's where I went, back to the tattoo parlor to get a dose of pain.

The first tattoo I got was kind of a 3-fer. In the wake of the accident I'd really begun to embrace and discuss my depression and anxiety. Mental health stuff was becoming more "normalized" and I was on board with all of that. I think most people were waiting for me to have a meltdown anyway. During this time also, the semicolon movement was gaining traction:

When I found this, it touched me and I felt really connected to it from every walk of my life. I'd struggled with depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts in my youth and now PTSD so many reasons why I would relate. I started looking at tattoo designs. For Project Semicolon or the semicolon movement the hook was "My story isn't over yet." So yeah, I could claim I was a writer, but if you know me, you know I could never survive this life without my music.

Ironically, I failed at all of my lessons besides voice lessons, so I never played music successfully, only sang. But I am the most music-obsessed, avid concert-goer, you will ever meet. The closest to a pure spiritual experience I have every had, would be in the presence of live music.

So a friend of a friend had a friend of a friend who's dad owned a tattoo studio super close by with great prices and she helped me come up with this:

Behind my ear, this was my treble clef semi-colon design to say, "My song wasn't over yet." As a 3-fer it was, music related, trauma related, and supported mental health awareness. It was cute, simple and affordable. All of my tattoos embody one rule: make sure it very much cover-up-able. When I was still working at the dealership, this was a very important rule. Getting this tattoo was the first of three that I would get in the next year, but the first in my important music-themed healing process.

Once I had this little one, I wanted more and bigger! I'd done that thing that 18 year old people do and gotten my first tattoo on my lower hip-tummy area at age 18, maybe even the day of. It was a super nerdy Lord of the Rings related tattoo; yeah I know. I can feel the laughs and eye rolls. Anywho, it was pretty silly so I decided I wanted to get it covered by my next one.

Back to my Hanson re-kindling of a love affair; I've outed myself as a legit Hanson fan before. I have NO shame about this. Listen to their entire catalog because they are amazing musicians and songwriters, and you can't argue that, I'll win, trust me. When I am in my darkest places, I always go back to Hanson, and they always clear the clouds above me and remind me of what I need to push through. 

I'd been repeating the same few songs with them post-accident including many off of their 2004 release, "Underneath." Somehow I kept revisiting mostly just tracks from this one and I remembered the awesome album pamphlet containing this:

The first song on the album is called "Strong Enough to Break," and the lyrics are: 

It soon became my theme song. Over and over, "I start feeling strong enough to break! Things keep coming and I keep stumbling..." Over and over. Then I would turn on the title track, "Underneath," over and over:

It was like they were singing to just me, about just me, but not in the romanticized way from my childhood. It was as if they were saying, "Hey, you've been through a lot and you're still going. You got this!" Lastly from Hanson's 2007 album, The Walk, came the final inspiration from, "Been There Before."

This song is about their experiences with other songs and their familiarity. The chorus sings: 

Tell me does it move you

Does it soothe you

Does it fill your heart and soul with the

Roots of rock and roll

Does it move you

Does it soothe you

Does it fill your heart and soul with the

Roots of rock and roll

Na na na na na na, I've been there before

Na na na na na na, I've been there before

Na na na na na na, I've been there before

Na na na na na na, I've been there before

When you can't get through it

You can listen to it

With a na na na na

Well I've been there before

So finally I had all the pieces of the puzzle for my next tattoo and I had the artist working on all my ideas. When she finally got it together it came out like this:

This tattoo is now over my old one and right on my tummy-hip area and it hurt, badly. Somehow after the accident I just thought that I need to prove that I really was hurt too, even if it wasn't on medical records. I'm sure that's some text book psychology shit right there, but one Thursday evening, with a new YouTube-uploaded Hanson song repeating over and over, I got inked.

 

I kept singing internally and playing this song on my phone, repeatedly when it hurt. Even my tattoo artist was like, "You are a brave lady, this spot really really hurts." The next morning working out and at work was ouchie, to say the least but I love this tattoo so much. 

It's not in a spot people really get to see, which is kind of another reason why I like it. It's just for me, and something to keep my healing process real. From time to time when people see it they are like..."Do I know that song?" And I'm always like, "Uh, maybe?" 

For my best friend when I got this she was so in love with it and proud of me because I put myself through some pain to inevitably heal the pain from the whole experience. But also, we love Hanson together so, she was pretty impressed I think, haha. When I can't get through it I DO listen to it. When I'm at my worst, I am making playlists and over-playing songs that help me make sense of things.

Music has always been my rock. Every era of my life has a distinct soundtrack and these two tattoos are the reminders I literally carry with me as a whole part of me that I chose. I know some people are like, "Hanson, seriously?" But I could share my whole Hanson fan-ship story and blow you all away because, if you know me, the Hanson tattoo wouldn't be surprising or weird, in fact it was overdue.

I love these two tattoos because I think they are almost kinds of war wounds from everything but they are also so awesomely Alison, which is something I struggle with. I very much struggle with embracing everything about myself, and these "inkings" are visible reminders of all that is me. Do yourself a favor and get at least one tattoo in your life, if you can stop there, that is, and listen to Hanson immediately. For some of you, one may be more painful than the other!

Bye Bye Boot Camp; The End Of An Era

On February 1st, 2014 I started my journey with Boot Camp at Bayside. We were living in Westchase and I was, for lack of a better word, overweight. My daughter had just celebrated her 1st birthday and I was ready to get my fitness back.

I used to LOVE the YMCA, and I tried to go back, but unfortunately I had a bad experience with their daycare, and I needed to find something to do when my husband was home. At this time, I was working from home, overnights between 12AM and 6AM. I was usually only scheduled from about 12 to 3 or 4, so I had time before my husband left for work at 10AM or 12PM to make sure I could sneak in a workout before he left or even better, before the baby got up. 

I was super active on Facebook in groups like Westchase Swap and Shop and Westchase Garage Sale, so I started looking for an alternative to some expensive gym with not great class times and someone suggested Boot Camp at Bayside, hosted just over the Oldsmar bridge in wonderful, Safety Harbor. I messaged the person in charge and he said they were having a Saturday workout to come and try it, see if it fits.

So, the day of my daughter's 1st birthday party, I went at 7AM to try it out. I could barely keep up and had multiple wardrobe malfunctions; I was not used to fitness including "mom boobs." I made it through and was invited to come right back on Monday morning at 6:15AM. We took this picture at her party that same afternoon when the soreness was kicking in.

I made it back Monday for a workout called "Island Party" and there was no party about it. I pushed myself, but my trainer eventually cut me off from all the running laps. It was grueling and hard, but the great thing about Boot Camp was it was a workout for every fitness level. You had moms like me, guys that were super athletic and didn't want to deal with the gym, runners, cross-fit fans, and everything in between.

I was a good 50 pounds heavier than when I got pregnant and I'd never been so big. It was time to get to work. It was not an easy 3 month start, but what was great was you started to get to know the people you worked out with too. It was a whole different thing than the gym. I spent the first year of Boot Camp in the 6:15 class and my trainer introduced me to something called, "Savage Race," which I did my first one of just 6 months later. That was so difficult. I barely jogged in between the obstacles and I certainly couldn't do all the obstacles but I got muddy and had fun.

It was also during this time period that an older boot camper heard me talking about working overnight and then coming to boot camp. He said, "You are home all day with the baby, you work from 12AM to 4AM and then come to boot camp at 6:15AM, 3 days a week?" He asked me if my husband could stay home with the baby if I worked during the day shift and said, "We might be able to find you something that works with your schedule," and handed me a business card to a car dealership.

I went in for an interview and was hired; and it was all because of Boot Camp. By the end of 2014, I had a new job, was down at least 30 pounds, had finished one Savage race, was training for another in 2015. I was ready to keep working hard. 

When I got the job at the dealership and decided I wanted to get much stronger, I started going to the 5:15AM Boot Camp class, which was much faster and more dedicated than those in the 6:15AM class. Then I started doing 2 hours of Boot Camp to train for Savage Race, and jog on my days off. I ran 2 Savage Races in 2015, March and October, and the March one was my best because I didn't get super sick after all that exertion, which was good. I sure had cold, muddy fun though!

I was super fit and having a great time, working normal hours and becoming myself again. I started to get to know everyone in my boot camp better. I met a lot of local moms and got to know my trainer to the point where I watched his kiddos from time to time and think he just might consider me a friend. When 2015 ended I was doing great and we had just moved into Safety Harbor, also with the help of Boot Camp, who recruited the Bayside Men's Group to help haul, load and unload. We provided bagels and coffee.

Boot Camp became a staple in my life. It was just always there. And I knew enough people in the group that we would always check in on each other and keep each other motivated. If you missed too many boot camps and weren't on vacation, you'd hear about it. You could be at the store and run into someone asking if you were okay, you could be on Facebook posting funny gym memes, or my favorite, in traffic and a Boot Camper pulls up next to you shouting about where you were that morning. It's a family.

I met most of my closest mom friends in Boot Camp, and in 2016, Boot Camp literally was our saving grace when we got into the car accident. In June 2016, a Wednesday morning after boot camp, and on my way to my job at the dealership, we got into a nasty car accident that put us all into the hospital, 2 out of 3 of us had severe injuries.

My boot camp mom squad and I used to have a morning Facebook group chat with, knew I was always quick to respond to anything. That morning they'd heard nothing from me and they knew something was wrong. One of my boot camp mom friends, and someone who I consider a mentor, beat us to the hospital when I called her to come help. And when my trainer checked in on us, I made a snarky comment about all we need is lots of money, and he took up a boot camp collection the next morning. He also showed up with a bunch of hand me down toys for my kiddo and helped us arrange anything we needed.

My boot camp family got me clothes for the hospital. Boot Campers bought us a new bed for our recovery because our old one wouldn't work. They CLEANED MY FILTHY HOUSE while we were in the hospital. They set up food delivery of casseroles and bought my kiddo toys and projects for her recovery. They donated gift cards, pizza money, spending cash and one mom even stocked my fridge with beer. They checked in often and I can now reveal, you boot campers made my big husband cry because I was so lucky to know you all. We even had a friend mow our lawn every two weeks for 2 months because my husband's shoulder was messed up.

Boot Camp at Bayside has helped me become healthy in more ways than one. And, sadly, Friday is the last day. This is not just for me; two weeks ago my trainer announced that the church no longer wished to host our morning routines and he would be looking into alternatives. While he has other plans in motion, the 5:15AM class days are officially over. 

This hit me really hard because no matter what over the past few years, Boot Camp was just there. It was a kind of "home base" for fitness and friendships. It was insanely affordable, comfortable and you worked out with your friends who were like family. No matter what our personal lives threw at us, we had boot camp. It didn't matter if you gained weight, ate too much, or had a bad week, people would encourage you and push you a little bit more to do better. 

In 2018 I joined another gym in addition to boot camp to get back into cycling and boot camp was still my most consistent routine. When you've been waking up at 4:45 for 4 years, you kind of get used to it. And even with weight fluctuations, I've kept a good 40 pounds off and stayed strong.

 

Closing Boot Camp at Bayside was a depressing announcement and he got a lot of people talking to him about, well what next? For me, it just broke me that the family I had known so well wouldn't congregate anymore. Sure you can always change up a routine, and you won't lose the relationships but Boot Camp is a GREAT workout! And even the workouts of the day I "hate" are still good for me! It's the end of an era!

Friday is my last day of 5:15AM Boot Camp at Bayside with all of my favorite people and I may actually cry. How do you say goodbye to something so simple, that completely changed your life for the better? Boot Camp kicked my butt into losing weight, and got me back into church to meet amazing people and helped me find job opportunities and direct me to where I belong. Boot Camp was my stability and a rock of fitness; always dependable. It will be missed. That may even be an understatement

While I'm super glad my trainer is moving onto new things, there is a part of me that will always be sad that it couldn't last forever but what is that saying, "Nothing good can stay?"

The memories and workouts will always be there, and the friendships will definitely outlast the Boot Camp at Bayside legacy. 

So for my year of 34, it might not have Boot Camp but it certainly has new challenges and positive changes. So Friday morning we will say goodbye to our Boot Campers and close the book on a pretty big fitness chapter. I will definitely be in mourning though, because losing this routine is a huge hit, but if Boot Camp left me with anything, it's the ability to work through it all, especially physically!