Watch Out It’s Messy In Here

My sister sent me this yesterday morning: i shall fight for what i want in life. i shall not feel defeated until i see no other options or there is no fight left in me. i shall not let obstacles get in my way. i shall keep on unless i no longer want what i currently desire. i shall wish for the best and with all my might hope for the best and pray everything works out for the best! i can be no one other than me.  And a friend of mine shared this song with me earlier in the week:  Brand New Day by Joshua Radin   And every day I am getting email, texts, phone calls, cards, Facebook messages, and tweets from people with words of wisdom, or just general support.  Thank you to everyone.  I truly do appreciate the outpouring of love from you all.  I may not be wealthy financially, but I am definitely rich in friends. And here are some quotes that inspire me, lift me up, make laugh, or make me cry.  But they are all quotes that I believe pertain to my life, past, present, and futu

So, today I am both flying high happy about many things, and screaming mad pissed off about others.  So, I'm going to post a few rants about things that are just rubbing me the wrong way, and then I will rave about what is making me happy.  A balance of sorts! Things that make me grumpy: I have no money.  None.  Doctor co-pays, prescription co-pays, missing many days of work with no sick time over three different weeks, meaning not receiving a full pay check until next week equals me not having enough to pay the bills.  Not to mention "loaning" money to someone, who forgot they were going to pay me back. I hate that I work full time, yet don't have the means to support myself. I'm sleepy.  My oldest got up at 1:30, thinking it was time to get ready for school.  Got in the shower, and couldn't understand why I didn't have his clothes ironed when he got out.  He barely remembers any of this.  I remember it vividly because it interrupted my sleep.  On a

I'm a bad blogger.  Please forgive me!   But, for the record, I have made it to the Y 3 out of the last 4 nights and got some training in.  Despite The Big One having an up all night puke fest Sunday night into Monday morning (which means momma got no sleep). Saturday I survived my first social situation post break down.  It was a birthday party for bff's three year old.  I felt a little uncomfortable, and went and sat alone, away from the crowd.  The Big One came and kept me company, and so did bff's mom.  It was difficult to be surrounded by so many "happy families" and I felt like the only single person there.  Even though I have known most of these people since before I had children, I just didn't feel like I fit in with them anymore.  Honestly, I don't feel like I fit in with most crowds anymore.  Oh well.  The party was fun, and me and the boys spent the night in their new big beautiful house, and got some quality time with my friend and her beauti

I obviously have lots of issues.  Otherwise I wouldn't have ended up in the hospital, and I wouldn't now be in therapy and on medication.  One of my issues is guilt.  I am a people pleaser.  I try to make everyone else happy, often at my own expense.  If I know I have upset someone else, it plagues my mind, and my heart, with guilt.  I also feel guilty about not doing things I know I should have.  This is especially true with my training right now.  Since I've been out of the hospital, I have done virtually nothing in the way of training.  And the days on the calender keep passing by, getting closer and closer to the first race.  So, in an effort to not let this get me all worked up, and upset, I am making a deal with myself.  I will start a new tomorrow.  Today, I am going to see my bff with the boys to attend her adorable little boy's 3rd birthday party.  I will let myself enjoy the day, and not fret about training.  And tomorrow, when I'm making my meal plan fo

I think a lot of people are assuming that I had my little nervous break down/panic attack/suicidal episode because my husband and I split up.  That I am depressed about being single.  That I can't live without him taking care of me.  This is not the case.  One does not get the diagnoses of "severe clinical depression" from a break up.  And that is exactly what the psychiatrist wrote on my discharge papers.   I have been depressed for a very long time.  I was raped at the age of 17, and lost a baby at the age of 31.  Two events no woman should ever have to live through.  Two things I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.  I never dealt with either of them.  I've been running away from my problems for more than half my life.  Pushing them down.  Ignoring the pain.  My husband has been suggesting therapy for years.  My longest friend has been doing the same.  I didn't become depressed because of my husband.  I was depressed in spite of his best efforts to make me

My meds make me sleepy.  Early at night.  Like, I'm ready for bed right now.  This is when I normally blog.  I have many more stories, but I'm just too darn tired tonight to share any of them with all of you. I appreciate all of the support and love you have all shown me over the last two weeks.  I am feeling much better.  Still not 100%, but I'm heading in the right direction finally. Thanks for the love. I promise to be a better blogger. Maybe tomorrow. Nighty Night.

There were many people staying at 5 West with me.  In fact, they were at capacity.  I got the last bed.  Every single one of the people who I interacted with had an impact on me, and they will all remain in my heart for as long as I live.  They each played an important part in my healing process, and for that I wish I could thank them all personally.  But of all of the new "friends" I made, there is one young girl in particular whom I will always wonder how her life turned out.  Beautiful, young Faith (not her real name). My first morning, when I was walking back to my room to lay down after breakfast, I noticed there was an aide posted outside one of the rooms, sitting on a chair.  He was there all day.  And in that room, laying in bed, was a sad young girl.  She never came out.  Not for at least that entire first full day.  I did see she got visitors.  But she didn't come eat with us.  Then one day she came out when the meals were brought, and carried her tray back to

Since my stay in the psych ward, I've had one thing on my mind, that has been bugging me.  They had lots of rules that made sense.  I know they were trying to protect us from ourselves, and each other, and to keep the staff safe.  But one of the things they wouldn't allow just makes no sense what so ever to me. Q-tips!  They wouldn't let me have my q-tips that my husband packed, upon my request.  Why?  What could I do with a q-tip that could possibly cause myself or others harm?  We could have pens and pencils.  I could certainly cause some pain with either of those.  But a q-tip?  I even asked one of the staff, and she had no answer.  It's just on the list of no-nos.  I've been racking my brain for over a week to come up with a reason, and I simply can't.  It even says Safety Swabs on the package!  What could be dangerous about that? So, on this snowy, lazy Saturday, I challenge anyone who reads this to come up with at least one way that a q-tip could be

Note: I've been working on this post for quite some time.  Mostly for myself.  I don't really want to publish it, but I feel like I need to after the events of the last week.  If nobody ever reads it, I'm ok with that.  But I'm hoping by putting it out there, telling my story, I will somehow have some closure, and finally be able to heal.   I had a lot of potential.  Teachers always told me that.  I was in the gifted program and in honors classes.  School came easily to me.  When I grew up I wanted to be a teacher, a lawyer, or a child psychologist.  I probably could have done any of the three.  I slacked sometimes, but always pulled my grades up when it mattered.  I even had an arrangement with my math teacher one year that I didn't have to do homework as long as my test and quiz grade remained above an A.  I'm not bragging.  It's true.  I was not an over achiever, but I wanted to do well.  I used to be smart.  I could have gone far in life.  One day cha

One week ago this very moment I was being admitted to the psych ward.  I was scared, and wanted to go home.  I didn't feel like I belonged there.  But, while going through the paperwork and questions with my nurse, I realized, I belonged there more than I had ever belonged anywhere in my life.  For more than half of my life I have been crying out for help, and for the first time I listened to those cries and let myself be taken to a safe place, where I could start the long journey that I had been avoiding for too long.  The nurse took my vitals, and commented on the fact that when I had first arrived at the ER my pulse was 120.  It was now down to 70.  After all of the questions about my past, my medical history, my families mental and medical history, and what it was that brought me to the point of wanting to take my own life were answered, the nurse brought me out to the "day room" so I could call my boys to say good night, and my parents to let them know where I was.

I've been on a little bit of a vacation since Wednesday afternoon.  A non-voluntary, not very much fun kind of vacation.  I was in a place where you aren't allowed a belt, or shoe laces, or plastic wrap, or even plastic knives.  For some reason, they won't even let you have q-tips.  And they check on you every 15 minutes.  There is no access to cell phones, or email.  I was in the kind of place you get checked in to when you tell someone that you are thinking about taking your own life.   A place were you can't see your kids. Last Wednesday I finally realized that when I told everyone that I was ok, and when I told myself I was ok, it was a lie.  I realized this while in the throws of a panic attack.  I was thinking of hurting myself.  And I was scared.  Scared enough to finally ask for help.  The kind of help that gets you locked in a psych ward for 5 nights. I learned a lot about myself in those 5 nights.  And I made some very good friends.  Friends that I will most

I just got home from visiting one of my best friends in the hospital. She was there because she just 24 hours ago became a mom to her first born child.  A "little" baby boy named Johnathan.  I say "little" because, well, he was almost 10 lbs.  9lbs 14.5ozs to be exact.   She only gained 20 lbs!   And this big beautiful new life was as wanted as any baby could have been.  Several months of trying, followed by a miscarriage, and then more months of trying.  Little Johnny is finally here.  I couldn't be happy for his mom and dad.  I got to hold him tonight when I went to visit.  Watching him try to put his fist in his mouth, rooting for his mother's breast.  He is simply perfect.  I can still smell his new baby smell on my hands.  Nothing brings me greater peace than holding a new, innocent baby.   And seeing how sweet and tender the new daddy was with his son brought a tear to my eye. I remember those moments with both of my boys.  It's something you can

I have three main obstacles preventing me from being the best possible triathlete I could be.  Two of them I have no control over, time and money.  I can't make more hours in the day than there are, and my money situation isn't going to change any time soon.  The third obstacle is my nutrition.  This is the one area that I can fix, and I'm having a very hard time with it.  I want to eat right, and want to fuel my body properly, but need lots of help in this area. Now that the holiday's are past, and we are back into more of a normal routine, I'm trying to force myself into healthy eating habits, and trying to drag the two non-willing members of my family with me.  The trouble is, I'm not really good at the planning healthy meals.  Dinner's I'm pretty good at.  I have been getting better and better at planning a weeks worth of healthy meals, and the boys usually eat them.  But breakfast and lunch I'm not so good at.  Especially since I have to pack

I may have only actually raced in one triathlon in 2010, but I volunteered at a few as well.  I think I got equally excited at the ones I was not participating in as I did for the one I did.  You can't help but to get sucked in to the buzz at the start, regardless of the fact that you aren't in a wet suit.  And it's fun to see things from the other side.  To be a spectator to this amazing lifestyle.  Some of the people you see are simply awesome.  At the Caz Tri I was fortunate enough to be able to see both the start and finish of the race.  My friend Kristin and I enjoyed the sights of the wet, glistening, well sculptured bodies emerging from the water, and I swear, she was only looking at their ages on their calves, not checking out their butts once they passed.  On this particular day, the water was choppy.  Many people came out saying it was the hardest swim ever.  One man, I think he was the last one out of the water, ended up collapsing as soon as he got into transi

I have never been so happy to end a year.  Good riddance 2010, you will go down as the worst year of my life, by far!  Hello 2011!  I intend on owning your a$$ and making this a year that I will be sorry to see end. I will not be doing a reflection on the past year.  I would rather not dwell on the past.  Instead I plan on focusing on the future.  I have a lot of decisions to make in order to make this the best year ever for myself and my children.  I'm sure there will be some difficult times, some tears, some sadness.  Probably a little anger thrown in too.  The challenge is to make sure the laughter outnumbers the tears, and the joy outweighs the sadness.  Non of this would be possible without the great support system I have in all of you.  My triathlon community has made me feel like part of the biggest, best family I could have ever asked for. Yesterday, I got an email from Mary , a few minutes before 9, when the Iron Girl registration opened: "I have clicked REGI