Consider it Joy

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." James 1:2-4

Not just joy, but pure joy. Why? Because trials make you stronger. 

It's hard to look at it that way when you are in the midst of what seems like a life-changing trial. We don't find the joy, we worry, stress, rehash, dwell, complain, etc, etc...

At least, I do, or used to. I'm trying to be better. 

What good does all that worry and stress do? It doesn't, it just robs us of our joy. It robs us of our happiness and then there we are wasting a minute, an hour, a day, a week of our time. Time that we aren't guaranteed, anyway. Tomorrow isn't promised, so do you want your possible last day to be filled with worry and doubt?

Worrying isn't going to change anything, it won't fix anything. I'm guessing more often than not, it makes things worse and in the end, doesn't matter anyway.

So, here's me, vowing to worry less, and live more. How about you?

to the moon and back,

I wore a bikini to the beach...

Ok, so two questions probably came to your mind when you read the title:

1. Why?
2. Why are you telling me about it?

I'll answer both of those for you (you probably have many more than that, but I'm not a mind reader).

I didn't wear a bikini to the beach because I look like a super model. I didn't wear a bikini to the beach because I have a perfect body. I didn't wear a bikini to the beach because I have super high self esteem and I didn't wear a bikini to the beach because I love every inch of my body. (I have never met a woman who does love every inch of her body, we all have a hang up or two.)

I wore a bikini to the beach because I wanted to prove to myself that I could (plus this pasty white tummy was just screaming for a little color). I'm insecure. I'm a girl, I think we are all born with at least a little insecurity bred into us, the media helps take care of the rest of our insecurities. I have stretch marks and cellulite. I have freckles and uneven skin tone. I have a belly, sagging skin and my thighs touch. I'm not photoshoped or air brushed... (I know, shocker!) Even the medical field adds to it, according to their BMI calculators, I'm currently over weight and have been obese most of my life.

But here's what the bikini doesn't show (or my BMI for that matter)... I can do 90 minutes of hot yoga without stopping. I can bike 14 miles at a 12 mile pace. I can jog a 5k. I can spend the day doing manual labor. I can keep up with my 3 year old (most days). I am fit, even if my body doesn't show it. 

Want to know what I learned from this experience? No one ran from me in sheer terror. No one pointed and giggled. No one stared and whispered. No one even gave me a double take. I'm not sure what I thought would happen, but it was ridiculously uneventful. Well, aside from the fact that I opted for no sunscreen because we had a canopy up and I got fried, on that pasty white tummy that I am sure has not see much of the light of day.

Now, on to why I am telling you about it. Well, because if I can do it you can do it... conquer your fear that is. Your fear may not be a bikini (and by the way, it was very tasteful suit, no tiny bikini's), but it can be conquered. I'm not saying that it has to be a huge fear that you conquer, start with the small ones. Then the big ones don't seem so unattainable.

I know I sound extremely superficial and/or narcissistic, but if you ask my hubby, you'll see what a real fear this was for me. No matter how confident I come across in person, I am a big ball of self doubt at home. I am working on just loving me.

I even remember the first time I felt heavy. It was Easter and I was about 7. My great-grandma gave me a cute, stuffed, yellow Easter bunny with fluffy white cheeks. She said that she got it for me because it reminded her of me, chubby. No, she meant that in the most loving way, but that's what sticks with a 7 year old girl. I'll have to find the picture of me from that year to share.

Let me know what fears you want to conquer... :)

to the moon and back,

Whirlwind...

I woke up and it was Halloween. I went to bed and woke up and it was New Years. Yes, that's what it seems like. I can't for the life of me figure out where the latter part of 2012 went. I remember that we had a great Halloween, Thanksgiving, 13 year wedding anniversary, Christmas, birthday and new years, but they almost seem like they happened the same day.

So, here we are in 2013 and all I have heard about lately is resolutions. What are mine, you ask? Well, I don't have any specifically, but generally speaking I guess I have a few.

Everyone loves a bulleted list, right? So here we go...

• Continue on my healthier living trek (mind, body & spirit). Technically, this started before 2013, but I want to make sure I continue with it.
• With that in mind here are a few things I am doing to keep up with that
• I'm doing a 21 day Yoga Challenge (21 days straight of yoga, no skipping or I'm out) and today was day 12.
• Eating cleaner, I'm back to eating more veggies and less processed foods. I've managed to stay away from fast food (other than subway) for a few months now.
• I'm also eliminating things that take up time, but don't serve the greater good, like God, my family or my friends.
• Spend more time with my son and husband
• Spend more time with God
• To care less about making everyone else happy and care more about making myself happy, my husband happy and my son happy
• Drink a little more coffee and a little more choffy
• Wear more heels and dress up more

I don't think those are too hard. A few of these might be a tad challenging for me. Why? Because I don't know how to say "no". I'm a "yes" girl and I know that's not always a good thing. I tend to spend time stressing over what everyone thinks of me and if they like me and if they are happy instead of doing what makes me happy or what makes me feel good. Constant worrying does not do a body good.

So, if you ask me to do something, and I say "no", please don't take it personally. It just means that maybe, spending time watching TV with my husband and son is a little more important.

To the moon and back...

Run, Forest, Run

I mentioned a few posts ago that I am working towards my goal of running a 5K. While that goal has been a little delayed because of our move, I am happy to report that I am working towards it full force now and have been for about 3 weeks or so. My friend, Lacey and I have decided to tackle the goal together. It always makes it nice to have an accountability partner. We even signed up for our first 5K race at Epcot. It's the Disney Royal Family 5K at the end of February. I plan to run (ok, realistically, jog) the whole way. No walking. I don't expect to win, just finish.

I want to prove I can do it and I want to be a good role model for my son. See the thing is, I have issues with following through with things for myself. I have great ideas and lofty expectations, but after about 2 weeks, I'm done. Now, if I am working for someone else, I have great follow through and will put my whole heart into it (makes no sense, I know). I want to make this goal the exception and the start of finishing things for me!

Now, back to running, I have to say, I am enjoying it much more than I thought I would. I mean, 3 weeks ago I was dying after jogging for 30 seconds and today I ran 5 minutes straight and a total of 16 minutes with short walking breaks between. I know I still have a way to go to reach 5k status, but I'll get there.

I have heard that exercise is a natural anti-depressant, but I have never experienced it for myself. I have exercised on a regular basis and besides weight-loss, I can't say that I noticed anything else. If you have read some of my previous posts, you know that I have struggled on and off with postpartum depression. There are days when I am great, and others when I am not so much. I have also been diagnosed with PMDD (which is terribly embarrassing, but since I'm using this as my therapy, it's ok!) which is a monthly struggle. HOWEVER... since I have been running, I have felt GREAT. Seriously, I wouldn't have believed it if I wasn't experiencing it.

From the day I had Moose, all I have said that I just want to feel normal mentally again (back to my old self) with out forcing everything and I am happy to say that running has brought that back for me. Don't get me wrong, I have an AMAZING God, hubby, son, family and friends who have all helped tremendously, but the running has given me that final boost. I can't really explain it but my mind is clearer, I am more at ease and way less stressed out.

I can't thank my hubby enough for supporting me and helping out more so I have time to run, and Lacey for darn near killing me by pushing me to my limits when we run together.

All in all, I am super excited about the 5K next month and I will definitely write about my experience... that is, if I survive...

Plus, if I am ever going to have a second child, I need to get this goal out of the way and hopefully it will help me be in the best shape ever!

To the moon and back,

Too close for comfort...

Last night at 11:30pm, the phone rang. Generally, by nature, a phone call at that time is not good news and this one was no different. It was my mom. She had taken my dad to the ER because he had lost sight in one of his eyes. She said he felt fine and wasn't in any pain and that the doctors said it was a stroke of the eye. She said they were going to run some more tests before they sent him home. I heard him joking in the background "Tell her to get me an eye-patch for Christmas." I told mom to tell him that he isn't funny.

Long story short, he's doing good (we think, he has more tests on Thursday), but he will most likely never regain his vision in that eye. He said it's like looking through frosted glass with a few clear spots that never seem to be in the same place.

In the past few weeks, I have had a few friends that have lost their fathers, and this brought it very close to home for me. I can't begin to comprehend what they are going through, but last night as I laid in bed after hanging up with my mom, I was terrified that I might find out.

The doctor told my dad that if the piece of plaque from his vein had gone to his brain instead of his eye, he could have had a real stroke. There is still a possibility that he might need surgery, but I pray that he doesn't.

I don't think my dad will ever realize how much I love him and how grateful I am to have him and my mom for parents. I gave him a pretty hard time (attitude-wise) when I was a teenager, but he never held it against me and always loved me, even at my most unlovable moments. I tell him I love him, but the words just don't seem to convey it properly.

I can thank him for my fondness of movies and my eclectic taste in music. I can thank him for my love of all things food, he always made me try something new. I pretty sure my creative side (graphic design) came from him, too. Lord knows it wasn't my mom, if it doesn't involve Mahjong or solitaire, she couldn't care less about it.

I am so thankful that he is ok, I hate that his vision is impaired, but it could have been so much worse. I pray that everything goes well on Thursday. I pray that this was a fluke. I pray that I don't have to deal with losing a parent... ever... Can't they just live forever? I can't imagine life without my parents. I know that day will come, but I hope it's long after I am old and gray.

I love you daddy...

Emotional Eater, Party of One...

I'm an emotional eater, there I said it... what a weight off my shoulders! Now hand me a cream puff... crap, there it goes again.

Basically, it goes like this...

• When I'm happy, I celebrate with eating
• When I'm sad, I self medicate with food
• When I'm stressed, I feel better with chocolate
• When something good happens, we go out to dinner
• When my favorite TV show is on, bring out the pretzels

Notice a pattern here?  I sure do... but I rationalize by saying, "I'll be better tomorrow".

Tomorrow... ahh, tomorrow... there is always tomorrow, yet tomorrow never seems to get here.

Why do I do this? Beats me, I mean, technically I feel better mid bite, but before I can brush the crumbs off my shirt, I am already thinking, "Why, did I eat that? I didn't need it". Then I walk by the pantry and hear the peanut butter calling my name.

How does emotional eating effect dieting?? Umm, hello, negatively!

Sure, I still blame those few extra lbs on baby weight (I know he's almost 2, don't judge me!), but I'm starting to think that those 4 cream puffs I just ate aren't helping anything either. I gained (gulp) 49lbs when I was pregnant. The 2 weeks after he was born I lost 30lbs (postpartum and breastfeeding will do that to you). A few of those lbs creeped back (mainly on my thighs, I think) and I am still about 25lbs or so heavier than I was pre-pregnancy... ugh... Let me be perfectly clear, I am by no means saying I'm fat, I am just not at my goal weight. Sometimes being a girl sucks! *We are always worrying about weight, makeup, fashion, shoes, skin care, being submissive little housewives... (haha!!! Now that I have set the feminist movement back a few years, I'll stop!)

*Disclaimer: Just to clarify, I was making a joke about the things we actually worry about, we are way more complex than that, I mean, I didn't even mention hair care... ;)

And now for a laugh (more cartoons I came across while searching for one to suit the topic):