National Suicide Prevention Week 2016

After reading Ansley's post earlier, I've felt prompted to share part of my story. This week is National Suicide Prevention Week. As you all know, I battle depression and anxiety every day. These two disorders are opposites and yet so similar. And both have made me seriously consider suicide before. I'm thankful to say that I've never attempted it, as I've always been too scared to do it. Unfortunately, there are many that aren't that lucky. I'm going to share some stories that I've never shared in their entirety. I've always been scared to. I'm still scared to. Please be gentle with this information.

Growing up, I was overweight. And kids are mean. I was always made fun of. Laughed at. Told that I was worthless. Called a cow. Or a hippo. Or a fattie. Or ugly. Told that I would never get a boyfriend. Told that I would be a single parent because nobody would ever want to be with me. Told that it was a good thing that I wanted to adopt because nobody would ever have sex with me. And I believed it. Every single word. It stuck with me like I'd been branded.

I remember my 12th birthday. I had some friends over, and we listened to music and danced and played games. And at the end of the night, one of the guys (who I had a huge crush on) asked me out. I was on top of the world! Finally, somebody who saw past the fat, ugly, worthless cow. (I may or may not have sang Brandy's "Have You Ever?" to him that night... Oh, how embarrassing!)

Two days later, I found out that he'd only asked me out because a friend asked him to. I was mortified. I went home and grabbed all of the pain meds I could find with the intent of taking them all at bedtime, knowing that my mom wouldn't find me until the next morning. At the end of the night, I got scared. I was scared that someone would find me too soon and I would fail in my quest. I was also scared that I would be a burden on my parents if I died. So I put the pills back and cried myself to sleep.

The next day, I went to school, determined not to let them get to me. I wore a hairtie on my wrist (a habit I still keep to this day), and whenever I felt upset or worthless, I popped myself as hard as I could. The physical pain took my mind off of the emotional pain. I rationalized that this was better than cutting, plus I could still wear sleeves (oh, to be 12 years old again). My homeroom teacher, Mrs. Blankenship, saw me doing this one day and asked me about it. I told her the truth (though not the whole truth - I believe I told her that I had started cursing as a result of being around some new friends, so I popped myself whenever I cursed aloud or in my mind), and she talked with me about how this wasn't a healthy way to deal with things. Being the people-pleaser that I was, I stopped that habit. But the thoughts didn't stop.

Throughout the years, I would have suicidal thoughts sporadically, especially after my ex and I broke up in college. That was the other time in my life where I seriously considered ending it all. I was miserable, and I felt like a huge burden on everyone. I felt like I sucked the fun out of every outing with my friends. My parents were tired of me moping around, but I didn't know how to stop. I decided at that point that I would be less of a burden in death than I was in life. I had a plan: pills and a car. I planned on taking a bunch of pills and driving into a tree off of Highway 316. To this day, I don't know why I didn't go through with it. I would get ready to down bottles of pain meds, and I would just stop and think, "Nah, I'll do it tomorrow." Tomorrow never came. One day, I felt like I'd switched back to the belief that I'd be more of a burden in death, so I quit carrying the pills with me. And somehow I started to feel well enough to come off of my depression meds. Still don't know how that happened either.

Eventually things shifted from thoughts of "I want to die" to more of "what would happen if I wasn't here anymore?" I still have them frequently. They usually go like this:

What would happen if I die?

Who would be the first to notice?

How long would it take Heather to even know that I was dead?

How would she get in touch with my family?

She doesn't have their numbers!

How would my friends find out?

Would my parents post on Facebook?

Would they use my phone to text my best friends?

Would they call them?

Would they send an email?

How would they even get my friends' email addresses?

Who would call work?

Which of my coworkers would come to my funeral?

Would my bosses come?

OMG funeral. Please don't let them play sappy songs.

I need to make a note to tell my parents that I want my favorite songs played at my funeral.

Does anyone even know my favorite song? (it's Love Shack by the B-52s, btw)

Would people cry?

Would Samuel even remember me?

How long would it be before people forgot about me?

Where would my stuff go?

Would my parents keep any of it?

WHERE WOULD BZ AND ROSCOE GO?

OMG what if they ate me before someone noticed?

And so on. I know how irrational this is. I've talked with people about it several times. The first reaction is almost always laughter. Because it sounds RIDICULOUS! But it's a real fear I have. My therapist and I are working on all of this, specifically the "false truths" from my childhood that have shaped my life.

I've been in therapy for almost a year now. It's been tough. I've gone through periods of loving it and hating it. I'm currently hating it (because it's tough to work through things that I don't want to think about), but I wouldn't stop going. I can't. I know that I need help. I can see how much better my life is since I've gotten help. I am significantly happier now than I was at this point last year. I'm less stressed. I am more active. I no longer feel like I'm sleeping through life. Things aren't perfect by any stretch, but I'm freer than I've been in years. Maybe ever. I highly recommend counseling, even if you don't have a mental disorder. Even if you don't think you need it. It's so worth it. We all need help at some point in our lives. We can't do life alone, and we're not meant to.

I've had my semicolon tattoo for just over a year now, and I'm ready to change it. I want it to say "STRONG" with the heart-semicolon as the "O." I also want to get the word "grace" in a script on the inside of my left forearm.

I'll leave you with this, written by my friend Ansley.

Suicide is the 2nd leading cause of death in adults age 25-34 in most states, and almost twice as many people die by suicide in GA annually than by homicide - one every 7 hours.

Suicide and self-harm CAN be prevented. Much of the problem stems from inadequate mental health awareness and education. Depression leading to death can be more than situational - it can be a symptom of another mental disorder that can't be treated by antidepressants alone. If you (or your loved one) feel like you're not being adequately treated for your depression, please please please look for a good psychiatrist and therapist (I'll give you great recommendations). I struggled through 7 years of misdiagnosis of major depression disorder because I was treated by general practitioners instead of someone specialized in mental health. Never believe that your situation is untreatable. Just look for a doctor who is well-versed in your symptoms. I promise there is hope! 💜☀️  Learn more at asfp.org.

If you ever need someone to talk to, know that I'm here.

Did Not See This Coming

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Jeremiah 29:11 

Today's counseling session was one of the hardest I've had to date. We dove into something that I truly thought I'd gotten over. The session started off really well. I've overcome a really difficult situation in the last few weeks, and I was excited to tell April about it. We spent most of the session discussing it, and she gave me homework to move forward.

Then things changed. She asked me about my ex-boyfriend. I was surprised but answered her. I told her about our relationship, when things ended, and my perspective looking back. And I started crying. You see, I would love to think that I was a great girlfriend and that he was an idiot. But 9 years later, I see how dysfunctional our relationship was. He was my first boyfriend, so I was learning how to be in a relationship. I'm also deeply emotional, so our relationship moved (at least for me) at warp speed. It helped that I'd liked him for two years before we started dating, so I was already pretty emotionally invested. But I was insecure, constantly worrying that he was going to leave me for someone else (two particular someones, actually) and that I wasn't good enough. He gets a lot of credit for always taking the time to reassure me and never getting frustrated with me for saying the same things over and over again. We fought like most couples do, but I didn't always fight fair. I'd pick a fight and then stay mad until I got my way. I loved him, and he loved me, but it just wasn't healthy in the long-run.

So he broke up with me. I usually say that "we broke up" because it makes me feel better, but this is about being completely honest. Half-truths don't help me move through this. I do still believe that one of the aforementioned girls that I was worried about was a catalyst (whether intentionally or inadvertently) in our breakup, but I now accept that it was the final straw rather than the sole reason he ended things. And to give him credit, he waited a few months to date her. But then again, he did the exact same thing with me when he broke up with the girlfriend before me. Never realized that before. Interesting. Hindsight, man.

Anyways, I told a pretty brief narrative to April, and at the end, she told me that she heard me say two things, one that she thought I knew and one that she thought I hadn't realized. One: I'm judging myself pretty harshly and blaming myself for everything that went wrong. Two: I'm mad at God. Both are true. And guess which one I didn't realize?

It's really easy to get mad at God, which seems crazy to me. He's omnipotent, but that doesn't make him a genie. He doesn't just snap His fingers and make things perfect for His followers. And even if He did, I'm pretty damn sure my love life would be the low-man on the totem poll, waaaaaaaaay behind cancer patients, orphans, veterans, the homeless, etc. I was listening to a podcast recently, recommended by one of Victoria's best friends, called Breakaway. It's a college ministry at Texas A&M (the irony was NOT lost on me), and they did a series about relationships this past semester. They have something called Parents Weekend every year, and during this time, they had a guest speaker who gave a talk called When Life Is Disappointing. In it, he talks about how people want to think of God as a vending machine. Put in the right code, and out pops a candy bar. But life doesn't work that way. Sometimes I wish it did, but it's better this way (I could explain, but the speaker did a MUCH better job, so go check out the podcast. It's amazing!).

BUT.

That doesn't stop me from feeling the way I do, even though I didn't realize it. I am often told, "I can't believe you don't have a boyfriend. You love sports, you're funny, you have a great smile, etc etc etc," and I think I've let that get to me. It's lead me to believe that I deserve a relationship. I get jealous when I see my friends with their spouses and children. Melissa and I talked about this recently: I'm so jealous of her life sometimes. But sometimes she's jealous of mine. The grass always looks greener on the other side. Anyways. How do I always start to get off track?! That is a whole nother topic of discussion for another day. Back to the topic at hand. I think I would be a great girlfriend. It feels weird to say, but it's how I feel. I love to take care of people. I like to plan surprises for people or give gifts. I have a lot of love in my heart, and I just want to share it with someone who loves me back. (Man, this sounds cheesy. Sorry.)

Okay, I really thought writing this out would help me process, but my mind is racing back and forth. I can't seem to focus. And honestly, some of the stuff I'm thinking is too raw, too personal to share. When I left my counselor's office, I snapchatted Melissa and told her what was up. I wanted to talk through it, but when I tried, I couldn't. I'm not ready. (I can hear April in my head, "You *are* ready. I wouldn't push you if you weren't." MAYBE YOU'RE WRONG. {You're not wrong.} Sigh.) My chest feels like an elephant is sitting on it, so I'm gonna stop here. I'm not even gonna read back through this post. (PLEASE don't let there be a grammar mistake.)

Also, I haven't run in three weeks. Someone needs to crack a whip. I blamed the Olympics for the last two weeks, but this week has just been a lazy week.

Also also, HI JUDY! Thank you for your support through this journey. I'm so glad to have connected with you :)

EDIT:
I'm gonna try again. I'm watching Big Bang Theory, and it's the Valentines Day episode where Penny sees her ex at a restaurant with the girl he cheated on her with. She says, "It's not fair. They're bad people. It's not supposed to end happy for them. It's supposed to end happy for me!" That's exactly how I felt. And believe me, I know how messed up that line of thinking is. It's a huge part of my struggle. It's so hard to see people who "didn't do the right stuff" getting all the things I want. It's selfish. And horrible. But it's how I feel sometimes. I'm just mad at God. So April decided to do a little roleplay. She was me, and I was God. She said my feelings, my anger, and I responded. By the end, I had come back to one word:

Grace.

I don't deserve anything. Nobody does. We are given things because of God's grace. I'm still angry. I'm still frustrated. But I'm feeling better.

I feel like I'm just talking in circles. I think I need to sleep, but my mind keeps racing, so this could be interesting.

Self Worth

I have always struggled with my self-esteem. Always. When I started counseling last fall, my counselor almost immediately diagnosed me as a perfectionist. I've always known that I had perfectionistic tendencies, but I had no idea how much it had negatively impacted my life. I've never felt like I was good enough for anybody or anything. Accomplishments didn't matter, because I could always have done more. I was never the best at anything. Sure, I was smart, but someone was always smarter. I could sing, but someone could always sing better. I read quickly, but someone always read even more quickly. I never dressed the best or had the best toys or was the fastest runner or anything.

Average. I always felt like I was average.

I haven't felt like myself in a few months. I let myself get wrapped up in things that felt good at the time but ended up hurting me deeply. I've been a wreck at my last few counseling sessions. I feel like I'm not moving forward in my life right now, just living day-to-day. Or rather, existing day-to-day, because it doesn't feel like I'm really living.

I've made a conscious effort to stay busy over the last few weekends, because the busier I am, the less time I have to think. And overthink. For more on that, see the last blogpost. For an introvert, staying busy is extremely difficult. I only have so much energy before I need to recharge. Thankfully, spending time with my best friend both keeps me busy and recharges me, because it's effortless. I can literally just walk into their house whenever I want. I don't have to worry about whether or not I'm interrupting their plans, because they aren't going to try to entertain me or change their plans for me. I just drop right in.

I don't feel like that with others. In fact, the last week has been eye-opening. I tend to worry that people are just tolerating me; that they don't really care about me, want to hang out with me, want to be talk to me. Yesterday, I feel like it finally clicked with me: that's just not true. We had a big planner meetup, and a large group of us went to Tin Lizzys for lunch. At one point, a friend says, completely unprompted, "I don't know how everyone who comes into contact with you doesn't just fall in love with you. You are so much fun to be around!" I'd heard that sentiment, almost verbatim, two other times this week. I almost started crying. I don't believe in coincidences. I believe that was God's way of showing me that I matter. I'm important. People notice me. People care about me and love me.

So, this week, I'm taking back my self-esteem. I'm starting to train for my first half-marathon. I had planned on doing the Disney Princess Half, but after discussing with a friend, we decided to do the Snickers half instead (fast and flat, plus we can crash with my grandparents), and we're gonna use the money we would've spent at Disney World for a trip to Universal (HP WORLD) in January (COLD WEATHER + NO CROWDS). I'm very excited about it. My training plan is as follows:

• 30 minute interval training on Mondays and Wednesdays
• Distance run (or occasionally a timed run, as determined in my training plan) on Saturdays
• Strength training (21DF videos, most likely) on Fridays
• Optional cardio (step videos, Cize, Country Heat, etc) on Thursdays and/or Sundays
• 5k in September
• 10k in November
• 15k in January (Hot Chocolate)
• Half marathon in March (Snickers Half)

I know that I need to get my food under control too, but the past has taught me to focus on one change at a time, until it becomes a habit, and then introduce a new change. Feel free to check in on me at any given time. I'm hoping to remember to post on IG (@lynngetsfit) to keep me accountable as well.

Normally I read back through what I've written before I post, but I'm not feeling it tonight. Forgive any typos, run-on sentences (my specialty), incomplete thoughts, random musings, etc etc

Overthinking

It's amazing how often I read things *exactly* when I need them. I think a large reason for that is that I'm driven by my emotions and find it easy to empathize with others, so I really understand what the writer is saying. But today's reading really hit the nail on the head.

An Open Letter to the Introverted Overthinker

I've been overthinking for the last few weeks, and it's been rough. My therapist always says that progress is a rollercoaster, and I've been on the downswing for longer than I'd like. One of the parts that spoke to me the most was this:

I’ve experienced those long, painful nights when I was torn between wanting to be alone and wanting to be held while I share everything running through my mind.

I was reading this, screaming in my head, "YES! Someone finally gets it! OMG yes. This. This right here. YAAAAAAAAAAS." I can't remember if I've talked about this here or if I've journaled about it, so forgive me if this is a repeat. It's so hard to be a single introvert. Don't get me wrong; I know that everyone has struggles in different areas, and they're all valid; struggle is struggle, regardless of how "big" or "small" you think it is. But for me, this is the toughest. I feel like I'm single *because* I'm an introvert. It's hard to meet people. I have friends that can just go out and start talking to anyone they see. That's amazing to me. One guy I know can literally go into a bar alone and leave with ten new friends. But put me at a party with people that I have met before, and unless I have someone committed to staying by my side the whole time, I'm gonna feel awkward and uncomfortable and count down the minutes til I can leave. Obviously this isn't always the case, and it changes based on my surroundings and who I'm with, but the point is that it's a struggle. It's hard to meet new people.

Whoa. That went way off the point I wanted to write about. Let's circle back. The last few weeks have been particularly tough for me. I've had a ton of different emotions and feelings swirling around. I've been over-the-moon happy and want-to-crawl-in-a-hole-and-die upset. I've been lonely. I've been optimistic. I've felt stupid. I've beaten myself up for being so open to new experiences, because in the end, I always get hurt. Always. It's why I've worked so hard to protect myself. I let people in, but don't get too close! I can count on one hand the number of people I can TRULY trust with every thought in my head. Trust me, there have been some shameful ones lately. Things I wouldn't want to admit to anyone. I've done more journaling in the last few weeks than the entire first half of the year, because I can get things out (#2 in the article - write it out!).

Oddly enough, now that I've written this out, I don't know that I want to share it. But I will. I'm tired of overthinking things. It leads to a lot of pain and heartache that I don't need. I'm currently hurting because of it, and it's going to be awhile before I'm completely over this. Time and distance are my two best friends right now, for certain things. I don't often reach out to people and say, "I *really* need to be around people right now," because HELLO - I'm an introvert. We like solitude. But when I'm in pain, I need comfort (#1 in the article), and that comfort will come from others. From keeping busy. From not letting myself overthink. So if you want to do any of the following, reach out! I'm game.

• hiking (Stone Mountain, north Georgia mountains, etc)
• tubing
• Braves game (Atlanta or Gwinnett)
• game night (board games, card games, video games... I don't care)
• bowling
• Six Flags
• movie under the stars
• almost anything that is free

Or if you have other ideas, let me know. Help me keep busy!

Drowning

The past month has been a blur. Lately I feel like I'm drowning. Like I'm invisible. Like I'm constantly dropping the ball. Like I'm not good enough. Like I'm a failure.

Work has been super busy, and I'm always worrying about whether or not I've done everything that I was supposed to do. I have lists everywhere, but I feel so unorganized. I'm currently in charge of things that I've never been officially trained on, so I'm kind of winging it. I'd like to think I'm doing a good job at it, but there's still that little voice in my head: "Why would they put you in charge of this? Don't they know you'll just screw something up? You're going to miss a step. You're going to forget something. You're going to fail. Everyone is going to see. They're going to laugh. They're going to look down on you, think less of you. You're a fraud. You've just fooled people into believing you're better than you are, but they're gonna figure it out. They're gonna see how inadequate you are! They're gonna shun you. And you did it to yourself, because you're not good enough."

I've gotten better at battling this voice. I recognize the lies. But sometimes they're too much. They come at me all at once, and I can't fight them all off. It's like swimming. I can swim. I know how to take the strokes and how to move forward or backward or tread water. But when too much water comes at me, it doesn't matter how much I know. I will drown. It's too much. I'm struggling, struggling, struggling. Fighting to keep my head up. Gasping for breath. Hoping that someone will reach out a hand or throw me a life preserver. But also not wanting people to see me drowning because they might think any of the things listed above.

There is an internal struggle happening 99% of the time in my life. I want people to notice me, but I don't want attention. I want to go out and do fun things, but I want to be a homebody. I want to get married, but I want to be able to do things like go to London or New Orleans without checking in with someone else. I want to be an integral part of the group but not the center of attention. I want to make the decision to do something but not pick what to do or where to eat or who to see. I want to wear my heart on my sleeve and keep my feelings bottled up. I want people to know that I have anxiety and depression, because I'm not ashamed, but I don't want people to treat me differently because of it. I want people to understand me but not try to fix me. I want to be healthy and fit, but I don't want to give up the things I love to eat. I want to be more girly, but I feel so stupid when I dress up. I want to be myself, but I want to be the person that everyone else thinks I should be.

I felt like a zombie at work today. Some people noticed and asked if I was okay, and I never really know what to say. If I tell the whole truth, it makes people uncomfortable. If I tell part of the truth, it tends to invite questions, which leads to the whole truth, which leads to people being uncomfortable. If I brush it off, I'm lying.. and typically they know I'm lying, which makes it even worse. There's no good solution. So friends, if I tell you that I'm fine and you can tell that I'm not, please know that it's not personal. It's hard to decide how much to share at any given time, even if we're best friends. Sometimes it depends on my mood at that moment. Then you throw in the guilt, and I'm just a wreck. There's no telling what I'll end up doing. There's no rhyme or reason to it.

I feel like I'm all over the place, which, I suppose, is appropriate. The reason I wanted to write this blog post is because there is NOTHING happening in my health and fitness journey right now. I've only run once since my 5k in April.. and I've done no other workouts. I haven't eaten as well as I should have. Too much eating out. Too many fried foods. Too much soda. I'm trying not to beat myself up about it, but it's hard not to. I can't focus on anything. I haven't been able to concentrate long enough to plan out my weeks, so I haven't planned my workouts or my food. I'm just trying to take it one day at a time. One decision at a time. One breath at a time. Once I stop drowning, I can try to do more than that, but for now, this will have to do.

Work In Progress

Last week at counseling, April and I started talking about my food issues. I have always struggled with food. I grew up drinking soda and eating sugar and processed foods and avoiding vegetables. I wasn't aware of my bad habits, as ridiculous as that sounds. I mean, I knew I probably shouldn't drink as much soda as I did, but it never really sunk in. When I was teaching, I would go through several cans of Cherry Coke each day. At least two, usually three or four. And that was just during the work day! I spent so much money on soda.. oh, to have that money back. I used to stop at the gas station near my house for 2 for $2.00 20 oz. bottles of either Cherry Coke or Mello Yello. Anyways, back to the point. I never drank water. NEVER. If I went running, I'd take a bottle, but that was usually it. I still struggle to get to 64 ounces most days, and according to the "rule of thumb," I should be drinking 100+ ounces. But it's better than the 0 ounces I used to drink each day.

It's also not unusual for me to go an entire week without a single veggie. For a long time, I thought I was eating vegetables. I've always thought that potatoes were vegetables. Corn, too. And rice. Now I know that they aren't. I'm also starting to like new vegetables. I used to only like green beans, but now I like zucchini, squash, cauliflower, asparagus, brussels sprouts, broccoli, and raw spinach. I'll eat raw carrots or celery too.

I tried 21 Day Fix a few times, but I couldn't seem to stick with it. I realize now that I was setting myself up for failure. As a perfectionist, anything less than perfect is unacceptable, so one mistake would completely derail me. So as I'm learning in all areas of my life, I need to take baby steps. Small, attainable goals. I can't go from eating zero veggies per day to eating five veggies per day for 21 days. That's just not reasonable for me. Other people can make it work, but not me.

So here are some of my small goals:

• at least 64 ounces of water per day
• at least one serving of veggies per day
• don't miss a scheduled run (MWF + S walk)
• water with each meal
• focus on one healthy meal each day --> try to focus on either healthy lunches or healthy dinners for the week
• meal plan, grocery shop, meal prep, and EAT THE PREPPED FOOD

This last one is so much harder than it should be. I never knew why I would always get fast food for dinner. I mean, I'd understand that it was the ease of things if it were just on my way home from work because I didn't have anything at home to cook... but that's not the case, if I'm being honest. There have been times when I had food at home, that only needed to be reheated, and I left the house to go get fast food. On the way home yesterday, I was talking with Victoria about dinner. She's been keeping me accountable with my food. I admitted that I was thinking about McDonalds on the way home. Literally every second, my mind went there. I was planning out what I was going to order. Rationalizing it to myself. Victoria kept reminding me that I had delicious, healthy food at home to eat and that I would feel better after eating my food than after eating McDonalds. And I did it. I had to take some different turns so that I wouldn't pass a McDonalds and give in to temptation, but I did it. I ate delicious meatballs, brown rice, and zucchini and squash for dinner. I also had that for lunch today.

This is going to be a lifelong battle. I will always have to eat food. I will always have to choose what food to eat: the food I want to eat or the food that is good for me to eat. There will always be certain foods that I have to completely avoid because one bite could send me in the wrong direction. There will always be days that I don't want to run. There will always be days when I'd rather have a Cherry Coke than water with dinner. There will always be days when I'd rather just stop at McDonalds. But I'm not going to worry about tomorrow anymore. I'm not even going to worry about an entire day. One meal at a time. Baby steps. GRACE, not perfection. I'm a work in progress. There is no finish line. I'm starting to accept that.

Failure: The Real F-Word

Hi, my name is Lynn, and I'm a perfectionist. I am unbelievably hard on myself, constantly expecting perfection and accepting nothing less. My fitness journey has been incredibly frustrating because, while I'm a perfectionist, I'm also a quitter. When things get tough, I give up. Always have. I've never been able to push through, to maintain the consistency needed for success.

But I have learned a lot over the last few months. I'm learning how to let go of those expectations and allow myself to be HUMAN. To make mistakes. To try new things, even if there's a possibility of failure (my F-word).

Since I started training for yesterday's 5k, I've run 50.9 miles. That's insane to me. I've run fifty miles this year. Really just in the past two months. Crazy.

The 5k I ran yesterday did not go according to plan. I had three goals:

1. Finish.
2. Run the whole thing.
3. Get a sub-40 time.

I only accomplished number one. It was rough. Thankfully, two of my small group friends stayed with me the whole time, because otherwise I would *not* have finished. It was so hot. I hate heat. My feet felt like I was walking on coals. And oh my goodness the hills. I'd been training on hills... but nothing like that. At one point, I felt sick. I thought I was going to pass out. April told me later that when she offered to run ahead and get me some water, she was going to also bring back a paramedic. But I finished. And I ran 2 of 3 miles. And I finished faster than my December 5k with my parents. That's progress. That's all I can hope for. Progress, not perfection. GRACE, not perfection.

I've signed up for the runDisney Virtual Running Shorts Series - three 5Ks, four Mickey Finisher Medals, and 9.3 miles of fun! The first race is the Yellow Shoes 5k, then the Red Pants 5k, and finally the White Glove 5k. I'm going to continue training with the goal of improving my time on each race. Even if it's just by one second. I'm looking to constantly improve. That's all I can try to do at this point. Keep moving forward!

Back on the Wagon

Oh vey. As you can probably guess, I haven't been doing so well. In September, I got some news from my parents that kind of rocked me. I can't share what that news was, but I can say that things are much better now.

Anyways, I stopped exercising and eating right and started seeing a counselor. The two aren't necessarily related, but they happened in conjunction with one another. Let me start off with this: counseling is for everyone. It doesn't make you weak or a failure or any less of a person. In fact, I believe it's the opposite. It makes you strong. It means you're a fighter. It shows that you have the courage to reach out and get help. I thoroughly recommend it for anyone, no matter what you're dealing with. Sometimes it's just helpful to talk to someone who has no prior knowledge of your life.

April and I have made some pretty significant progress. My relationship with my parents, especially my mom, has significantly improved. I'm more confident than I was before. But the biggest thing that we learned (that I think I always knew on some level but never really accepted) is that I'm a perfectionist. Big shocker, right? We discovered the root of my perfectionism and worked on not letting that rule my life. I'm not "cured" (for lack of a better word), but I am better equipped to deal with my issues as they pop up. I've learned techniques for when my anxiety starts to build, for when I feel like I've failed, and for when I can't focus or start something because I'm so overwhelmed.

There's one area that we've hardly made progress in, and that's my health and fitness. For some reason, I always hit a wall with H&F. I *WANT* to be healthy. I *WANT* to be fit. But I never seem to make it beyond a few days/weeks/months. I never knew why. I thought I just wasn't meant to be H&F. That I didn't have what it takes to get there. That my body would never do that. That everyone else can do it but I will always fail.

Fail. The real F-word in my life.

Even as I write this, I can feel my chest squeezing. I'm having trouble breathing. My head is screaming, "STOP TYPING! ERASE THIS AND PRETEND IT DIDN'T HAPPEN!" Putting this "on paper" is incredibly difficult; putting this on the internet is ten million times more so. Failure has ruled my life for so long. We had a discussion in small group a few weeks ago about whether we would rather try and fail or not try at all. Most people would rather try and fail, because then at least they knew that they'd done something.

Not me. The idea of trying and failing terrifies me. The risk of failing isn't worth the effort, even though there's a possibility of reward, ie. succeeding. My life reads like a how-to book for avoiding failure. There are a lot of things that I never did because I was scared.

Circling back, I think that's why I've never succeeded in my H&F journey. I can't remember if I've written this before, but I've always been afraid of losing weight, getting to where I want to be... and then ending up back where I started, or worse. Last year, I decided to change my perspective: even if that does happen, I'll have succeeded before, so I could do it again! Unfortunately, this perspective only lasts so long before doubt and fear creep back in.

April and I have talked a good bit about this. I've tried several different "diets" and workout programs and the lot, but nothing has stuck. Insanity: Max 30, Cize, BodyWorks, step class, running, 21 Day Fix... I start off okay, but the moment I mess up, I throw in the towel. I quit. Why? Because in my mind, I've failed. The goal is perfection, and once I've ruined that, it's not worth pursuing anymore.

So I've decided to try something new. Last month, two of my friends ran half marathons. April (not my counselor) ran her third, the Snickers half in my hometown, and Victoria ran her first. Victoria started training in January. JANUARY. She's never been a distance runner, but she was persistent and consistent and she killed it. That day I decided, I want to do that. I want to run a half. I've always wanted to do the Disney Princess half at WDW, so I made a promise to myself: I will run that next February. I had almost exactly a year to train. I was gonna do this.

My church is having a 5k on April 30th, so I decided to train for that with the goal of running the entire thing. I've only ever done that once, and I was much lighter then. Plus that race was at night and in the cold, aka my ideal running environment, so it was easier. Anyways. I downloaded a running schedule designed to build up my endurance so that I could run the entire 3.1 miles. I run on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I do a long walk on Saturdays. Each week, I increase my distance on Mondays and Fridays. I started with 1.5 miles, and that was hard, but I did it. Yesterday I ran 2 miles straight, and I felt like I could've gone further. This is the third week of training, and I haven't missed a single run. I'm pretty proud of myself. Even when I had a headache or that time of the month or small group, I made it happen. I'm not worrying about my food at this point; I've learned that I can only focus on one thing at a time. Any more than that leaves too much room for failure. Once the running becomes routine, then I can start focusing on food.

After the 5k, I'll start training for a 10k. I'm hoping to get a number for the Peachtree in July. Then I'll do another 10k+ in October/November, a 15k in January, and the half at the end of February. At least, that's the plan. Then who knows? Maybe a marathon is in my (WAAAAAAAAY distant) future.