wet but not drenched

I've had this blog for years. 
I think I've had it since the beginning of my adulthood - back when everything seemed so easy and trivial. Mannnn, reminiscing about the year 2010 makes me miss the simpleness of it all. My rent was only $350, I was working part-time at a movie store, figuring out my footing in the world, and making the most of what I had. No car? That's fine - I can walk to work. No money for food? Ramen-in-a-cup is my favorite. No goals? I truly knew how to live in the moment back then I think and I didn't have many life experiences to compare anything to so I was content.

Fast-forward 6, almost 7 years later and here I am. Writing another entry in a blog that I have had an on-again/off-again relationship with for all of my young adulthood. Maybe in a couple months, I'll have an emotional bout and log back in to write or reminisce. Or maybe I'll actually stick with it this time. In six years I have had a lot of life experiences. I have created a lot of memories and learned a lot of things. Hell, just in the past year I've learned a lot and had a lot of things change...not that I'd particularly like to rehash that right now. I've done a good job of moving on and moving forward from everything thats happened in the past 10 months. It was a whirlwind but I escaped the storm wet but not drenched. If that makes sense. I probably could have used a rain-coat or headed the thunderstorm watch or something, but I survived and thats all that matters.

Writing calms me down. Or typing it all out as it may be. It allows me a more accessible platform to get everything out and organize my thoughts. At the very least, it is entertaining to read a year or two from now when things have completely 180'd in my life again.

At Peace

My Papa passed away today. Writing those words seems wrong. In a way, I'm lucky. I'm now twenty-two (as of 2 days ago) and I've never had anyone in my family or anyone I cared about die, until now. I got to know my Papa for a whole twenty-two years. I was there to listen to every dirty joke he told and witness him flirting with waitresses and making rude gestures at my grandmother (in a loving way I'm sure). He was a fighter but his body, specifically his lungs, just couldn't hold out on him.

He had been in the hospital for three weeks toughing it out and staying with us, even though for two of those weeks he had a tube shoved down his throat breathing for him. I mustered up the courage to go see him when he first went into the hospital. I was scared at the time because I thought that if something did happen, I didn't want my last memory of him to be him weak and fragile laying there in a hospital bed with all those wires and tubes attached to him. I worried it would spoil the memory of him, but it hasn't. Because - even when I did go up to visit, and see him in such a frail state - he was alert and he was still himself. He winked at us and tried to laugh with us (the best he could with the intubation tube in). He flirted with the nurses and tried to con them into giving him ice-cream. So when I think of him, as I have a lot today, I don't think of him sitting in his bed sickly. I think of him as a fighter and recognize that he passed that down to all of us. I think of him as the man who used to pick me up so I could pick the cherries off of his fruit trees that he was oh-so-proud of. Or the man who would let me come with him to Maclemore's out in Lavinia and got me 12 oz. Mountain Dew and a Kit Kat. The man who used to empty his change jar for me just so I could pick something sweet to eat when Granny ran to the gas station to get cigarettes. He also tried to teach me how to drive when I was 15...the last summer I was able to spend with my grandparents before I started working. I remember I was so excited when I was old enough to start playing cards with the adults when we went up there to visit. We would stay up til one or two o'clock in the morning playing five-card-draw and and texas hold 'em. What I wouldn't give for one last game of poker with my Papa.

The tears having been coming in spurts today. Sometimes I think I'm strong enough to handle this, and other times they slip through. Mostly, when I remember. Knowing that he isn't with us anymore makes me sad, but it isn't the thing that makes me cry. It is remembering his spirit and how much he liked to joke around. I cry for my family too - for all four of his daughters, who he was tough on but loved them. I cry for my grandmother and worry about what she will do now.

It feels wrong to continue on with our normal lives when something like this happens. I had to goto my pre-calculus class tonight and sit through a lecture, trying my damnedest not to think about it. I have to go back to work tomorrow and deal with it. And the day after that and the day after that. And, Momma says the funeral won't be until next weekend, but my manager leaves for conference on Friday so I'm going to have a very hard time trying to switch shifts and make it up there. But, I won't miss it. I won't miss the service honoring what a strong and courageous and spirited man he was.

My cousin (who I've only met once in my entire life) on Facebook posted "Rest in peace papa I didn't get to see you much and I wish I could have changed that." Seeing someone actually acknowledge it is hard and the fact that she did upsets me. I'm not ready to tell people, especially on social media. Kyle told his dad who in turn told his wife who texted me about it, and I got irritated. I don't want people to bother me about this right now. I don't want people to say that they're sorry or tell me if there is anything they can do let them know. I'm not ready to talk about it and there is definitely not anything they can do to help. I'm numb right now and I feel as if I have a permanent lump in my throat and my chest. I don't want the topic brought up by anyone, even Kyle. When it happened, I told him what he needed to know, but I definitely did not want to dwell on the subject.

I wish I could put life on hold and push pause on all my responsibilities, but work, school, and the wedding planning still has to be done. It seems selfish continuing to worry about wedding details, but we are six weeks away from exchanging vows. We will get married 2 days after Papa's birthday and it is going to be hard knowing that he won't have the opportunity to meet Kyle more than he has or see the pictures from my wedding. I was going to be the first grandchild he was close to to get married... I knew he wasn't going to be there because it is hard for him to travel, but it never crossed my mind that he wouldn't get to see me afterwards.

On my way home from class today, the world seemed peaceful for a moment and that is how I want to remember it. It was quiet and the sun rays shown through the clouds as it set. That is the only thing that I want to remember about today. Momma says that at least he was moved to another room before he passed. He had a better view of the trees and wasn't hooked up to as many machines. I'm glad that he is no longer having to fight with his body. I just hope that his soul is at peace wherever he ended up, in whatever afterlife he believed in.

heaven forbid we don't do normal sittups

Right now, I am posting this from my phone while I'm sprawled out. I am one tired pup.

Woof woof.

I just got home from another session with my personal trainer (btw who talked me into that??? Oh yea..I did) and within the first five minutes I couldn't feel my thighs. They were so tight that just standing up felt awkward.

Towards the end of the 30-minute sesh, after he had murdered my legs and my arms, we moved onto my abs. I did planks and such and then he told me to do sittups.

Okay. Fine. Easy peasy.

Then he grabbed a ball. A 5 pound weight ball. O_o And then said, "Catch!"

I did it though! Doing a crunch/sittup every time I threw it back to him. Yay me.

My abs hurt and its not even tomorrow yet.

And I should probably go drink one of those 'dirt' protein shakes so I'm not so sore...but I'm not hungry in the least. Blah.

bribing for support

I had an epiphany today. I realized that in order for me to STAY on track with this whole working out & eating well garbage...I mean, stuff...that I need to surround myself with people that do the same. If I am constantly around people that are eating out at fast food places every day, then I will follow suit. I need to surround myself with people that will stay active and not sleep all day...as tempting as that is.

Now, easier said than done - especially with my loverboy. I spoke with my mom (for the errr 3rd time today ^_^) and she suggested I make a "fitness-tracker-calendar-thingamjig".

 

 Yup, one of those things. I'm apparently supposed to tempt loverboy with treats and prizes. Like a child. Exactly like a child. In elementary school. Because he's a guy. Fingers crossed this thing works huh? I'm up a creek without a paddle if he doesn't help out and support me soon (like ordering pizza this Sunday while he watches football).

OMNOMNOMNOMNOM

First day...didn't really go that great. To put it simply...I'm hungry. Reallyyyyy flappin' hungry.

This morning I was supposed to be at my doctor's office at 8:30. Uhm, that didn't happen. They wanted to test my insulin/glucose levels and make sure I was producing enough to break down what I was eating. But, I slept in. : /

My goal today was to watch what I ate. And I did....kind of.

When I spoke to my doctor the other day, he had mentioned possibly prescribing me appetite suppressants to help curb any binge eating. I've been pretty good about watching how much I eat lately, but eating too much has been something I have struggled with for YEARS. I think a lot of people who struggle with their weight struggle with binge eating.

 But when he mentioned the appetite suppressants, I quickly declined and stated I didn't think I needed them. But, today may have caused me to have a change of heart.

I ate okay...ish. This morning I ate a piece a toast, two eggs, and a yogurt. I was still hungry.
 I went over to my mom's hours later and started munching on

Ruffles potato chips and sour cream and onion dip. It wasn't many, but still.

I came back home around 2pm, and ate one tuna fish sandwich. I was still hungry. While making the sandwich, I was reallyyyyyy tempted to go ahead and make another for myself, but I decided against it.

And for dinner, everyone else had pizza. It looked good and smelt good and so I let myself have two medium sized slices.

I honestly don't think I did that bad considering what I would have eaten had I not been trying to watch myself. Lucky Charms for breakfast, two sandwiches, and probably 3-4 pieces of pizza.

It is kind of shameful when I write what I would have eaten down. Makes me realize that maybe I do have a slight problem with what/how much I eat.

On the bright side though, I did get out and exercise.

I had high hopes of being able to jump back into running again, but instead I walked 1.25 miles. It was easy at first. I kept a steady pace and made it to .50 miles just fine, and then my calves starting aching and my side started cramping. I did have to push myself to finish that last stretch of sidewalk at the park.

I figure I will allow myself to get used to activity for a week or two and then I will attempt to start running or jogging again.

Cheers,
Tiff

the time has come, the walrus said...

I've always been a little chubby. During my early adolescent years, my grandmother always said, "Oh! It's just baby weight...it will fall right off.". It didn't.

My weight has fluctuated over the years. My body has tolerated hormones being pumped into my system, the stress from moving 4 hours away from my parents at seventeen, the stress of learning to become an adult when I wasn't ready, and the stress of leaving everything I knew behind to move back in my parents after a three year relationship went down the drain. At one point, I did take charge a lose about twenty pounds when I was...18 I think. But I didn't eat much, and I was always weak.

I wasn't doing it the right way. This time I will though. This time, I am determined to not just lose weight, but be healthier, eat healthier, and stay that way. I'm not "dieting" in my mind, I'm changing the way I live my life so-to-speak.

So, why am I doing this now?

Long story short, I'm a medical mystery and they want me to lose weight to see if that fixes it.

But, it isn't just that...it is the fact that someone that I don't have a relationship with told me I was too heavy for my age/height....and they challenged me to do something about it.

I've been "trying" (aka half-assing eating right and sneaking cokes in every few days) to lose weight for awhile. I'm actually not miserable the way I am. I know I've got love-handles and my stomach is a little flabby, but I'm okay most days.

And then other days, well I hate the world. I try to find excuses and end up putting a lot of the blame on my parents. They never enrolled me in sports as a kid. They also encouraged me to take a second helping if I was hungry.

I'm not 10 years old anymore. I am six days away from being twenty-one. I am a grown-ass adult that needs to be making her own decisions by now on.

So, here's to new beginnings, new habits, and a new outlook on the way I eat and exercise. Cheers!