Recipe for Success

It happened. I did it. And that could very well be the end of this entry. Kidding!

I don't cook. I'm not saying that in a snobby "above it all," way. I don't cook. In my childhood my father did all of the cooking. My mom made lasagna and questionable choices. That's about it. Okay and salad.

My dad made Mac and Cheese, full Thanksgiving Dinner, ham and potatoes, potato soup, split pea soup, chili, spaghetti, manicotti, stew, sweet and sour chicken, tacos, sloppy joes, pork chops, fried chicken and so on and so forth. 

When I was 16 my first friend at a new high school taught me how to get boys to make you a girlfriend, and how to scramble eggs. My sister taught me when I was 17 or 18 how to make french toast and grilled cheese. When I tried to make grilled cheese for my dad, he said I was using too much butter and doing it wrong. I no longer make grilled cheese but occasionally bust out some french toast.

I make epic sandwiches and delicious salad combos. I make a lot of plans. I burn rice, I rush things and get frustrated, and I successfully make banana bread that I am the only one that likes, although my daughter will have some on occasion.

I've tried crock pot recipes and nine times out of ten they come out "okay." Later they will be found out to have "needed more or less of x,y,z" or not having all the ingredients, being super annoyed and saying "whatever." My husband has made fun of Pinterest recipes since their very evolution. Last night was my first success.

I'm going to blame my weird control whims. I'm going to say that after being engulfed in all avenues of anxiety, that I thought...how can I harness this for good? I've been struggling with feeling negative and resentful as of late. I've been feeling as though I'm reaching out to certain people and getting little to no response which leaves me feeling impotent and unimportant. Something as simple as a Pinterest recipe did more than I thought.

My husband cooks everything. He is a very wonderful chef and I abuse that often. In that way I am beyond spoiled. I also, however, appreciate ANY meal made for me, even if it's not my favorite, because I am well aware that cooking is a time consuming craft.

When I found this recipe, the "hardest" task on it was, "brown the meat." My husband actually taught me to do that once. I could totally pull it off. Now for time frame and ingredients. Shout out to Wal-Mart pick up order. I got all the ingredients we didn't have, perfectly matched to what we needed, and picked them up after I got the kiddo, with no argument.

With even further recipe review, I realized that all I needed to do what cook the meat and open the cans. My daughter could do everything else without me. What would we be making? Taco soup. Why? Earlier this week I had asked my husband to make tacos and he defrosted some ground beef. Life happened and he had a particularly bad day and it didn't happen. To alleviate "extra" requests and expectations, I said just don't worry about it, we have plenty of other meal options. 

My husband's late night go to is either soup, or some form of nacho. I figured this could be the best of both worlds. This was a way I came up with that was intended to say "I appreciate you, I know you're having an off week, so here is something nice for you." I just really hoped I couldn't somehow mess it up.

I multi-tasked like a bad ass. While browning said meat my daughter did her evening reading for me. Instead of some huge homework fight, even when we were at odds, with me concentrating on not burning and fucking up the food, and her spelling out words she was stuck on, we did good. And when she finished reading, I was ready for her to do the ingredient dump. 

We both rocked it, but she did so incredibly well just listening and stirring and understanding what we were doing for her dad. Too bad she'd never eat it, but she sure was excited to make it. It felt so good to "meal plan." It felt good to put something together thinking it would probably come out good. I set my alarm for 1AM to go turn it off in case the hubby would be later than that. No sooner did I snap that crock pot to "off" and crawl back into bed did I hear him come home, ready to enjoy his super late dinner.

He actually said it was good and he added some cheese and dipped his chips in it. My daughter said she'd remembered the secret ingredient, "Love," when she was making it.

It's weird how something so simple as a Pinterest recipe gone right, and a really easy thing to put together, somehow has given me a spring in my step for Friday like what else can I accomplish!?

When you feel ignored by people you're vying for attention from, you can wilt like a flower honestly. Sure, they are busy and working hard, but sometimes you just want some validation or acknowledgement. We're all human after all. Somehow this recipe for success actually gave me the water I needed to bloom and not wilt. This recipe's success gave me the confidence that with a little attention to detail, planning and confidence, I'm more capable than I think. Perhaps it also left me with feeling like I don't necessarily need to seek out that approval but just keep putting out good vibes, good intentions and good words and things will be returned as they need to be.

I don't think one successful crock pot experience makes me a cook. I don't feel like now I can make anything but rather I have the confidence to try other simple things. I won't pretend those anxious feelings are remotely gone but maybe I'm finding amended coping mechanisms for better handling of them. 

I've had to breathe deeply a lot this week. I've had to be patient in ways that take me out of my comfort zone and have been messing with my emotions and mentality. This concentrated effort to make some taco soup was quite the random accomplishment but I intend to keep it close as a reminder for my capabilities, creativity and an affirmation to self care and some self love. What a way to kick off the weekend!

Trigger-y Things, Illnesses And No More Apologies

I found this the other day after church, right before everything went upside down, and it still rings true. Now we can go back to how the story of my unravelling weekend.

You may have noticed I seemingly dropped off the face of the earth. Being sick can do that to you. So I'll tell you about my last 4 days and we'll go from there.

Saturday was poised to be an epic day. We had horseback riding lessons and then a birthday party 5 minutes from our home with some of our most favorite people for a fantastic day. It was lightly overcast and they had a pool. We were in! 

Saturday was kind of a perfect day, honestly. We were in great company. I was comfortable and relaxed. I loved the vibe and the tribe and was truly having fun. My daughter took awhile to kind of get in and get comfy but once she did, she wouldn't budge. We were there all day for a total of 8 hours of fun. I tried to leave earlier, and it didn't work, because we were just having too much of a great time.

We got home and crashed wonderfully and hard, with Sunday plans on the horizon as well. Normally after that kind of Saturday I would have insisted that we stay home and recuperate, but I was already having early coffee with a friend and I felt like I had to make an appearance at church.

Read that last sentence again. The weight of "get yourself to church," was so intense lately. Admittedly it was about 90% self-imposed, but church life had been a struggle. With my husband working 6 days a week, and now Sunday being one of them, church just hadn't factored in. With my personal struggles and refocus on my family life, church just wasn't a priority. But this Sunday, I put my best foot forward and said, "Okay, let's go." 

I walked in and got the guilt immediately and just tried to power through. The sermon, however, was super trigger-y for me from the previous week. I had recently acknowledged my recent weight gain and discomfort and had gone insanely full blast into double work outs, closely watching what I ate, and making sure I was mindful about everything. The sermon was pretty much about what you put into your body affecting your spiritual life. I had a hard time with a lot of it because for me it was far more complicated than that.

I got the gist, I totally understood all of it, but it's all so much easier said than done, and also didn't have time for the consideration of mental health issues, and addiction issues, in my humble opinion. I come from a place of mental health struggles, food struggles, and a family rooted in addiction and these things are more complicated and all a learning experience. When I found out about my thyroid issues I did all of the recommendations for diet changes only to gain weight and feel worse. Part of my depression therapy was keeping myself on a healthy balance of sleep, exercise and food and finding ways to find joy in them all. I married a chef! Food is life! So having it all tie into spiritual wellness was outside of the box enough to just trigger weird things within me.

So, while the message was positive in intent, and a great discussion it was trigger city for this girl. Why? Because I struggle to balance it all. I'm supposed to take care of and support my family, my daughter, my husband, and my dog, all while making time to work out, stay fit, and be a model for my kid, and keep us all on track for everything in moderation and it's exhausting. Look, from time to time, I want the damned Cheetos, but you learn the balance and moderation, and I follow this with spirituality too. 

Maybe it was a trigger because I had brownies at the party, covered in icing and it was the first day all week I didn't obsess over food, only to walk in and feel kind of mentally ambushed. Maybe it was a trigger because food is a serious weakness for me. That day I didn't eat anything until about 2PM. 

We had snuck in an impromptu play date on Sunday at 3PM and I honestly tried to keep the kid eating and happy but wasn't as food-attentive as I usually am. I managed a quick grocery shop in between things too. We'd had almost no down time. By 6PM we were all feeling tired and done when my daughter found her own way to end the play date, by puking on our floor.

I'm not the mom that freaks out about this. I'm the mom that calmly cleans it up, snuggles the kid and makes sure she is comfy. Thus began our long night.

She didn't stop the every-so-often evacuation of her system until about 10PM and by 9PM I had resigned to the fact I'd be calling out Monday and snuggled her in with me, kicking out my husband to the guest room, which he gladly took over. But, at 11PM something came for me by way of stomach cramps and discomfort. Mine was seemingly less than my daughter had suffered. What did we catch? Not a single fever. Both normal temperature-d as ever. We returned to sleep until about 7 the next morning.

Monday morning my kid was ready to eat. Mommy had a slight headache. We had some toast and crackers. Things were mostly okay. When my daughter was bouncing into full recovery that's when her exact progression from the night before hit me, hard and I had to call in my husband for back-up. It was discovered we had intensive heat exhaustion and dehydration. Tuesday was "learn how to eat again" and recover day. Today is my first day back to life.

I kept thinking in the throws of pain and suffering that we shouldn't have gone to church. It was laughable irony, all that ungodly food being forced from our bodies. It was not as though that had cursed us or worked against us or was somehow bad, but just that I should have guarded us better for rest. And then I found the list above. "I don't need to do what everyone wants me to do." Just because church was a good thing awhile ago, doesn't mean I should force it now, especially if it is just too much in every way.

"I don't have to anticipate everyone's needs." It's my job to anticipate the needs of my daughter, my husband, my dog and myself. That's it. Everyone else can chill out, please and thank you. Sometimes I'm a tired mama. "I don't need anyone to approve of me." Okay we ALL struggle with this one. We all want people to like and approve of us, it's completely human. This one is a work in progress. I certainly don't want to be the red-headed heathen.

"I don't have to explain myself." This one I need tattooed on my forehead because I really don't. Sorry, not sorry. No more apologies! "I don't need to feel guilty about my boundaries." No I don't, if I just need some time, I just need some time. "I don't have to say yes if I want to say no." I need to repeat this daily because I get cornered into stuff I don't want to do, TOO OFTEN. Again, sorry not sorry.

"I don't need to feel bad for staying home." Yeah I'm not doing that anymore. My home is my haven and you can find me there, and I will no longer feel bad about choosing my safe space over anything stressful. "I don't have to over-extend myself to be enough." Oh man do I wrestle with that one too! One day at a time right?

"I don't need to feel the way someone else feels." This one was Sunday in a nutshell. I liked the spirit of the message, I just won't pretend I feel exactly the same about things and I won't pretend it didn't trigger me. "I don't have to minimize my emotions." No I do not. I can feel what I want, and so can you! 

"I don't need to pretend I'm different than I am." THIS ONE! I'm a full time working mother of an amazing child, wife to a chef who are both working so hard on their marriage, and I'm the daughter of addiction, divorce and dysfunction trying to find my way. I'm not pretending to be anyone but her. 

"I don't have to put others before myself." My kid, my husband and my dog, in that order, are the only people I might "have to" put before me, but really that is just motherhood and marriage. Regardless, the rest of the world I don't need to keep putting before me and I think I need to read and write that repeatedly.

This weekend and the two sick days put an obscene amount of things into perspective for me and I'm carrying them close beside me. I was reminded that working hard, playing hard and resting harder are way more important than over-booking and should-ing all over myself on a regular basis. I realized how far my husband my husband and I have come, just in the last few months on being there for each other. I realized how much of a mom I am, for better or for worse and I should never let my guard down when it comes to momming right, if you will.

But mostly I realized I'm too old for all the guilt, drama, and putting extra stress on myself for no reason. Life can give you enough trouble as it is, I definitely don't need to make my own. For the rest of this week, I'll blog when I can. I'll do what I can, and I'll feel grateful for where I am on the journey. I have a feeling the posts might even get better as I find my footing again. Thanks for sticking with me!

Ask And Ye Shall Receive...The Most Out Of Shape Person Who Works Out There Ever Was

It's been almost exactly 3 months since boot camp ended; 3 months. I miss it, I do but I don't miss running. At my latest obsession, 9 Rounds Kickboxing Fitness, you don't have to run. It is my single favorite thing about the new gym. No running.

I haven't hidden my recent weight and self esteem struggle at all. I think it popped up in May and at every nagging voice about my weight, I'd shove something down it's metaphorical throat to shut it up. I went through clothes in May and some shorts were a little bit tighter than last summer. I gave them away because "they weren't sparking joy." I justified. I was trying so hard to stay positive but it was killing me.

No diet change, I'm working out 5 to 6 times a week at 9 Rounds, sometimes even a double workout day one of those days, how could I have gained weight? Then I caved and did the thyroid. Maybe it was worse than I thought right? Boy did I pay for being wrong on that one!

It wasn't until my blissful, yet bloated weekend with my husband that I finally realized, okay something is just off. I had a glimmer of hope with some summer spin class time, but then I started obsessing about it mentally. 

I thought, "Okay you've only lost weight since the baby, when you're doing double work outs, so, maybe that is just what your body is demanding of you. You can do that." But then I realized, I have very limited time to do extra anymore. Perhaps I could bribe my child to sit idly at 9 Rounds in the evenings, but she needed her chill time, hell, so did I so that doesn't seem fair.

Then I asked my husband to clean the garage after taking to Pinterest and pinning all those workouts I'll never ever do but are a click away if I need them! I told my husband we needed a mock work out space near the heavy bag so we have less excuses. He actually cleared space yesterday.

But I also realized something and it was like a light-bulb going off in my frenzied mind; the apartment complex adjoining our office suite has a fitness center and I bet we have access to it, because we're all in one big ass space. I'm actually quite good friends with the building manager, I should at least ASK.

Of course that afternoon she took much longer than usual to reply but she said, yes, it is very much available for me to use and directed me to it. I ran right up there, low to no expectations to check it out. It was perfect! Two treadmills, an elliptical and a bike, some weights...and not a soul was in there...this was it!

So I plotted and planned and I decided that since I eat my lunch at my desk anyway, I will be using that room daily and just changing in and out and de-sweating a bit, and 30 minutes of a treadmill run or bike ride will make all the difference. Today was my first day, and MY GOODNESS!

I am officially the most out of shape person who works out 6 days a week that there ever was. How could this be? Let me tell you...BECAUSE I STOPPED JOGGING! It made me so mad. I got on that treadmill and felt like I hadn't run in a year. I said, okay, maybe not at the speed I was 6 months ago. Then everything started to hurt, and I only made it 10 minutes. I caved, I walked the treadmill then hopped over to the elliptical.

It was then that it dawned on me; my body was so used to such large levels of cardio that the kickboxing just wasn't enough. This is discouraging for a million reasons but I'll just list my top five. 1) I feel more intensely like I'm burning more in kickboxing than I had a boot camp. 2) I don't actually "enjoy" running. 3) I practice mindful eating habits, in that I do my best to do everything in moderation. 4) I drink less than half of what I did 2 years ago so this feels very unfair. 5) I'm working out 6 days a week at 30 minutes a pop, I really shouldn't be getting thicker!

Everyone said I was nuts, "Oh you look fine." I got on that My Fitness Pal and did a one day food log and my normal day to day was not only less than 2,000 daily calories, but less than 1,500 unless I splurged, which technically still leaves me 500 left AND I work out! What the hell man! It was becoming so daunting and mentally oppressive.

I had a friend starting Keto and a new workout thing and I have my own personal reservations and issues with Keto, well and all diets really but I just know it's not for me. I've seen people thrive on Keto, so more power to them, you have my full support but it is not for me.

When I got on that treadmill today, it all became clear. I need more hardcore cardio, whether I like it or not. Instead of getting all annoyed, I actually just embraced it. I had a cute little free fitness studio to myself. A secret lunch getaway for me to spend an hour the best way I can, and still have an evening to be a mom. I couldn't ask for more!

The sweaty work return thing, I know sounds less than desirable but here's the thing, there is a seriously creepy guy at work, and the more revolting I am, this can only help keep him on the other side of the office. Also, I don't share an immediate space that would have any B.O. I so possess, being so offensive that I would literally have hygiene complaints although I will report back if I'm stinkier than I think.

I love 9 Rounds and definitely won't give up on that any time soon, but I definitely feel lucky I have this opportunity to actually get me back into shape AND that I got the validation that I needed because I was starting to feel insane. I have no problem working out extra to combat the thyroid drama and my crappy metabolism. I have a huge problem working out a normal amount and gaining for no good reason. If I'm going to gain weight, I better be living the high life with Champagne, steak and all the cheese and bread I can stand! 

I'm always ready for new challenges and I think this will be my best one yet. Of course I'm sure you'll read all about it. Happy Wednesday readers!

Coffee Is My Friend

Last night I was doing what I do best, watching Friends, and I realized that I grew up watching a show completely immersed in coffee culture. My dad always drank coffee, and then I came into adulthood in the Pacific Northwest, where Starbucks was for people who liked coffee flavored like hot chocolate, Dunkin Donuts had gone extinct and the craft coffee places ruled all. It's no wonder I'm a coffee snob, and if anything messes with my caffeinated state, I want to harm people.

Don't get me wrong, I'm Starbucks' target audience for the Pumpkin Spice Latte, the frappaccino on a hot day, and perfect White Chocolate Mocha any old day. I try to try their new stuff but always end up disappointed and $10 doesn't even buy you two coffees anymore. I'm lucky that in our town we have a local Costa-Rican grown coffee shop with their own beans, flavor extracts and amazing people so I spent my fortune there.

Dunkin Donuts is NOT coffee. It's coffee water. It's watered down flavor with crappy coffee. McDonalds coffee is NOT coffee. Shall I continue? Yes, I am a coffee snob. If you are a Starbucks aficionado, good for you. If you go to Dunkin Donuts for something other than Donuts, good for you. If you love a McCafe Frappe, good for you. Not for me, no thanks, with the exception of a quick Starbucks visit for PSL season.

When my horrible thyroid medicine was making me ill, it ruined my coffee to the point where I had to sugar it up and make it easier on my body. I once worked with someone who summed up my coffee order perfectly, a male who once joked, "I like my coffee like I like my men, black and on the run." While completely inappropriate and not true about the men part, I drink BLACK coffee. Just plain. 

My husband likes to think I got too lazy to put stuff into it. The truth of it is this, after pregnancy and with a new baby, when I finally wanted coffee, putting all the creamer and stuff was not only a waste of calories, but would just make it cool down to fast. I could sip it slowly and savor every bit of brewed optimism I could get.  The whole point became that coffee was my morning luxury and the very point of quiet and calm to wake me up and remind me I could do it. Fluffing it up with extra crap does nothing but keep you bloated and get in the way of the caffeine.

If you ever want to convey to me that I'm important, you buy me coffee. To me, this is the ultimate gift. When we go to Oregon to visit and my brother in law makes my first cup, and he makes the best coffee in all the land by the way, that's when I know I'm home.

At our local coffee spot I add their natural flavor but no cream. They make natural extracts like, Lavender Vanilla, Marshmallow, White Chocolate, Violet and seasonal ones as well. I love them. To me that's worth the money and the calories.

Coffee is also one of the few things I do not have to share with my child. She will hog and steal my juice, she will want to have my ice cream, milkshake, and even iced tea. Sometimes she gets a taste of them but giving your child coffee gives the bad mom award right to me, so I always say, "You can't have mommy's coffee," and it sounds even better because I'm right.

When I studied in London, I was made fun of for my "filthy American" coffee habit. Most of the best coffee there was found in little deli-type places and definitely not Starbucks, however, they are definitely all about the tea over there.

This morning I finally enjoyed a completely epic dark roast of fresh coffee and just realized that it's one of my few luxuries. I don't mean to say I go out every day and buy coffee, I just mean that I allow myself that coffee every day. I make sure I have good coffee, every day. Hell my Mother's Day present was a coffee grinder!

I don't get massages often enough, maybe twice I year. I don't get my nails done more than twice a year either. I don't buy fancy clothes, purses, shoes or housewares. I pack my lunch every day. We rarely go out to dinner. I am NEVER without coffee. Never. Coffee has become quite the great friend to me, and I never ever want to be without it. 

So here is my ode to coffee and to our beautiful relationship. This blog does advertise diatribes so here one is, and on Wednesday of all days! Reminder that Saturday and Sunday will be post-less as I will be attempting to enjoy a true weekend away!

Closer To Fine: Five Bad Days, Worst $23 Bucks I've Ever Spent, Being Right Never Gets Old

I've been complaining about my Thyroid issues. Hopefully this is the last rant for awhile. So, when getting all this blood drawn they find out I'm more or less defective. Kidding; but my thyroid levels are off, which can lead to bigger problems down the road. My symptoms were pretty benign and manage-able in my opinion, but what do I know? I've only had this body for 34 years.

For whatever reasons I have a rough time with medicine, hospitals and healthcare. Not on a political level, just in general. Maybe it was growing up visiting retirement homes with my Pastor Father, ill patients here and there and my mother being a grief counselor with Hospice, but I just associated sickness and death with all things medical for a very long time. 

Having spent my most formative years in Oregon where natural and homeopathic options are easier to get than anything else, that was always the first option. I remember for menstrual cramps my sister had me on all these herbs and tinctures. It was a pain in the ass but they worked! For me, western medicine was always a last resort and my body always seemed to have more intense reactions to it than most.

The thyroid thing didn't seem important to me. I had a friend suffering the same thing and she had intense symptoms. Mine were pretty standard and not severe at all. They said they could get me on meds after my May blood draw came back worse. Ironically this was after I'd done the dietary suggestions, cutting out most of my go to and comfort foods (spinach, veggie pasta, brussel sprouts, pizza and kale), and it made no difference, it actually just made me more miserable. 

I noticed some slight weight gain and since I work out a minimum of 5 days a week at 30 minutes a pop, while I don't need to win a beauty pageant, I'd rather maintain than gain. So I said fine, we'll give western medicine a go. My friend said the synthetic thyroid one messed with her sleep so she changed to the natural one and has done much better.

When I called my doctor I said, "Well I want to be on the natural one." The first name they threw out wasn't the one my friend was on. I said, "No I think it's just called like, Nature Thyroid?" They diverted back to, "We'll start you on this one." The prescription sat for two days as I still had seriously mixed feelings.

I very much am coined as a drama queen about medical and prescription stuff because I've always had very rough reactions. Everyone acts like I'm just overstating because I'm not actually allergic to anything, so to speak. My husband was encouragingly saying, "They will take an adjustment but it's a good step and it will make a difference."

Let me just say, he wasn't wrong. The first day I felt so confident and was like, "Yeah this is going to make me feel less tired and be more healthy!" Day one ended with the worst migraine I have had in a decade to the point where I couldn't lift my head off the pillow and slept for 11 hours straight with the help of my old friend, "Excedrin PM." Day two I was a little nauseated and foggy. Day 3 was the first morning it was taking it's toll. I had a low grade fever, serious chills and couldn't get enough water. It was like that scene in Me, Myself and Irene where the medication gave him insane cottonmouth:

 

The nausea was rough as I'm a puker as it is meaning, at the slightest bit of anything being off in my body, I'm vomiting. My appetite was numb almost and I felt this spacey, body high but not the good kind where you're having fun. Days 4 and 5 were killer, just out of this world discomfort with low fever, aches, weird, intense joint pain and my husband said my sleep was just not well at all. I had no feeling of being asleep or awake and was relying on Excedrin PM to help the pain every night.

Yesterday I called my doctor and they have yet to return that call. I tried to talk myself around it. I tried to rationalize and tell my body to suck it up but I was like...this isn't getting better, it's actually getting worse and I just can't live like this. I had to cancel moms night out plans because I was so afraid I'd puke wine on the bar if we went out.

I made the executive decision to stop taking them. In my optimism I had gotten 90 days worth of meds and dropped $23 bucks on that stupid prescription that I'll never see again but today, without the pill, the difference is already huge. There's a disappointed sadness in me that I wasn't heard by the doctor and also, that I let everyone talk me into something I was unsure about it, but at least today I can feel that without being sick on top of it.

This morning I skipped a workout and snuggled my daughter and husband, oh and the dog too. I enjoyed a cup of coffee for the first time in a week, and I don't feel like I'm completely ill. Don't get me wrong, I have some residual but much lighter nausea, I had a brief dizzy spell this morning and I'm still quite thirsty but I can think better, I feel less foggy and my joints don't hurt. For me it's a step in the right direction.

When I was my most sick yesterday, it was after I made myself a glorious cup of green ginger tea and then immediately felt like I was going to puke repeatedly so I stuffed down some bland mac and cheese leftovers from a failed dinner out, to calm my stomach, that I realized...okay I don't care about the weight gain, nothing is worth this discomfort. Next weekend is a big weekend in my life, and we have important plans. This weekend we have important plans too and I just couldn't picture feeling this ill through it all. I decided, no more, I won't live like this.

I Googled over and over again the Levoxothyroxine or something or other side effects. I had like 6 of 9 under the "Call your doctor if" column. I kept trying to rationalize the sickness blaming allergies or anxiety or my daughter having a cough but today is my affirmation it was the pills and not me. My joints don't hurt. I'm aware and awake instead of more tired and frail. Yesterday I even stared in the mirror for a minute and just felt like I looked, pale and uncomfortable. Today I might snap a selfie!

While I'm happy I tried it, I still have this overwhelming grief of how it all went down. I have diagnosed Anxiety and Depression, which are two of the side effects of the thyroid meds. To manage those with therapy and in daily life, I have many tools but my nervousness and anxiousness just were so un-manage-able with that medicine. I wish I was taken more seriously but I also need to stand up for myself. I really do, and this was quite the rough lesson in that. 

I really wish I didn't lose out on that $23 bucks, which I know sounds dumb but come on, that's half a tank of gas or a nice lunch out! The lesson is I have to be my own advocate and stand up tall about what's right for me, no matter how short I am. The truth is, I know my body the absolute best and no one can tell me otherwise. There was a part of me that hoped I'd be wrong and I'd be fine or that it would only have positive effects but I have no control of that. Being right never does get old, does it?

Today I am closer to fine. I feel so happy I'm almost back to myself. By next weekend when I take some much needed time away, I'm sure I'll be back to manage-able me and sorry, not sorry that being out of my comfort zone this time around, was not worth hurting my body. I even feel like my posts were foggy and I was so uncomfortable I couldn't even proof-read much because I was so frenzied! I'm glad to feel almost Alison again.