Climb the Mountain

Sherpas are flipping awesome! They go up and down Mount Everest so many times in their lives. And its no big thing. I look at that mountain and think 'Oh hell no!' and scurry back to my tent.

Well I can't ignore the mountain anymore. It has erupted.

For three weeks now, I've had unexplained nerve and muscle pain, tingling, numbness and burning joints throughout my body. Did I mention the twitching? Constant, random muscle twitches.

After 32 vials of blood, three poops in a bucket and storing a collection of my pee in the fridge, I thought I would get a diagnosis today.

I did not.

There in the doctor's office I had the mother of all pity parties. I was pushing back on doctor recommendation because of cost and the time involved. And he said this:

"Here's the thing, Katherine. Right now you are at the bottom of the mountain. You can't see the top. But we can. Let us help you up that mountain."

He was right. I've been doing a great job of climbing the mountain on my own, sticking to the plan. But I am now in a terrain I've never been before. And I can't do it alone.

So I got me some sherpas. Let's do this!

War Wounds

I have a confession. Well, not really a confession but more of an admission.

I made a poor underwear choice for my first half marathon.

My husband calls them my war-torn panties. The particular panties in question are long gone, but we all have our favorite underwear. Liz Phair even wrote a song about it (sort of). So of course I thought those panties would be perfect for 13.1 miles. WRONG!

Into mile three they had settled half way up my rump. By mile four I couldn't feel anything below the waste, so no harm no foul. I crossed the finish line and headed to a friends to clean up.

They became attached. They melded with my body, becoming one with the soft tissue of my butt. And I couldn't pull them off. Like waxing your bikini very, VERY slowly. I finally hopped into the shower, underwear and all and finally peeled them off. I was left with two bleeding, racing stripes on my tuckus. I derriere looked liked a regulation major league baseball.

Best part? I had my yearly visit two days later and had to explain to my male doctor why I had huge scabs on my ass.

So why talk about this now? Because your exercise gear is as important as the exercise itself. The wrong choice in clothing can completely derail you. I have worn my fair share of Walmart brand exercise clothes and have the chafing scars to prove it.

Peekaboo! Don't hints that mean nothing to you aggravate you?

But a new addition to my blogging family has turned that around. I am beyond excited to share this partnership, but I have to wait for the mail to arrive. Squeeeeee!!!

This is a partnership that benefits you as well. Stay tuned, people.

up... UP... AND AWAY!

When my brothers and I were little, my mother would safety pin towels around our necks (Yes, a real safety pin close to a five-year-olds neck). We would then swoop through the house, pretending to be Superman.

I miss that cape. I miss that moment in time. There was no pain, no anxiety, no helplessness: just the ability to fly.

Ten days of unexplained pain. Ten days of flames shooting throughout my body. Ten days of Kill Bill quoting (Wiggle your big toe!). Ten days of twitching and burning at the slightest touch.

I swear by my bad-a$$ery all the time. But it is nothing compared to the countless people who live like this for years. Who battle cancer and incurable disease. It’s time to prove myself. Appointment with a pain specialist this afternoon.

I really need a cape now, even if it is a pretend one.

I Can Hear You

Junior year, size 13.
Yes, I thought I was fat. 

I have struggled with my weight for more than half my life. I remember my first Weight Watcher meeting in 7th grade. After I weighed in for the first time, the woman said, "Oh, you're a lot heavier than I thought". What's funny is I wasn't even overweight. Yeah, a woman said that to a 13 year old girl. 

I am always searching out female power houses. The woman who wrote the blog The "After" Myth is one of these women. Thank you, Vanessa, for sharing this with me. This woman battled and won over her weight. But it didn't come will 100% happiness, as most expect. She still is trying to find herself. She is brave as hell for putting it all out there. I am so grateful I have another badass to inspire me. 

"Every day I'm shuffling."

I have spent too much time focused on the wrong things. Years have been wasted on fad diets and radical exercise plans to achieve one thing: a lower number on the scale. We need to take the focus off of the weight coming off and focus on why the weight was put on in the first place. 

The best decision I ever made was to go to therapy to resolve my issues. And to the doctor to get my health in order. I have made such progress and am loving my journey. Diagnosed with PCOS in March and now conquering a whole new bag of WTF health issues, I am still pushing and thankful for my battles and my successes. I'm stronger than I've ever been. Food no longer controls me. It just is. If I'm 'fat' the rest of my life, so be it. My goal is health: mental, physical and emotional. 

Next time you tell someone they look so good, that they must be so much better without the weight. Next time you give them permission to hate who they were, remember they are still the same person. They just have different skin on.

Run, Trena, Run!

We met in the Fall of 1994, freshman year at Butler University. She didn’t come to orientation because of Mono. So, of course, she was labeled the diseased girl. Within two weeks, I was labeled the bitch thanks to my roommate (truth be told, I probably was). I posted a note asking for rides to Ball State, Trena Goble (Roudebush) responded, despite the bitch rumors. We’ve been friends ever since.

We’ve seen each other through dead fish and failed marriages. We’ve enjoyed the bounty of the Absolute drawer and the shutters of poor choices. She knows when to love me (Spartan Hell) and kick my ass (Ice cream incident). Basically, our friendship has ridden Willy Wonka’s glass elevator and we are better because of it. 

Over the years I’ve seen her grow from a young lady searching for her place in the world to a powerful woman that knocks down any barrier she encounters. Trena defines unselfishness. She has donated her time, sweat and tears to countless organizations. Active 20-30 Club, Coburn Place, Girl Scouts, the list goes on and on. She has emotional, physical and mental growth spurts on a quarterly basis.

Her latest ‘growth’ spurt has been marathoning. I remember when she tackled her first 20 miles after a late night sleepover at my mother’s house. Not two years later, she is headed to the Boston Marathon. She has earned this spot. That small piece of asphalt that will be her home an hour before the starting pistol is shot should have her name on it and a deed attached.

I am so proud of her. I am in awe of her. She inspires me on a daily basis. But I am also green to the gills, want to punch someone, jealous of her. I am jealous that she set a fitness goal and, not only achieved it, but is already looking for the next challenge. I am jealous that she isn’t fat and I am. I am jealous that it comes so easy for her.

But here’s the thing: it hasn’t been easy. No, she isn’t carrying around a fat ass (IBTC *smirk*) but physical weight isn’t the only thing that can hold you down. We are our own worst enemies. And when things get hard, it is so easy to listen to that voice inside you and simply quit. Your body feels better, but your mind and heart… not so much.

After several failed attempts at getting in shape and losing weight, I decided I needed a makeover. Physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I started my journey in January and haven’t looked back. I went from a 4 to an 8 on the happiness scale thanks to a kick ass therapist. I have turned so much over to God and am just enjoying the ride. I was diagnosed with PCOS, which has been the source of many problems for decades. I am 90% clean eating and exercise at least four times a week. And I don’t weight myself anymore.

I earned this makeover. I earned this growth spurt. And I continue to search for the next challenge.

Trena, I love you. You’re the sister God gave me later in life. Words cannot define how proud I am of you and all your accomplishments. I like being in your shadow with all of this, because it means I’m keeping up with you. See you at our finish lines! 

Don't need to be alone

I just walked out of the grocery store without getting doughnuts. Too many of you are wondering what the big deal is. You walk out of stores without out buying doughnuts everyday. But I feel like I walked away from a long term relationship. I'm panicked and feel alone.

Growing up my father battled his own addiction. I was not popular. I was riddled with anxiety and depression. I would constantly pursue men to get the attention I wasn't getting from my father. My first husband was also emotionally detached. So I started to fill the void with food.

( I want to clarify that neither my father nor my first husband were horrible people. They were / are amazing individuals. They just didn't meet my emotional needs. )

After my first marriage ended I briefly dated an Italian named Franco. It was long distance. Once we spent a fiery weekend in New York City. We cuddled in Central Park, saw Joshua Bell perform at Lincoln Center, ate phenomenal Italian food and spent the rest of the time in bed. Following that weekend we talked twice and then he was gone. I thought we would get married and have beautiful caramel colored kids. To him I was a fling.

Binges feel just like that. A glorious experience that ends in heartbreak. But every time you go back because of how good it felt before the heartbreak.

My void is now overfilled with the love of my forever husband, my daughter, my God and myself. But it's hard ending my abusive relationship with food. It's a habit now.

That's why I am so grateful for AdvoCare. It has taught me healthy eating habits, given me product support, and most importantly, unconditional support from thousands of people. Although I have slipped back into old habits, as long as I keep engaging with my AdvoCare family, this habit will be squashed and my life will truly begin.

I'm a Fraud

I've been quiet ever since Robin William's suicide. There was so much flying around about his death. It brought light to mental illness. It also released a torrent of opinions about his actions. Me? I cried. A lot. I've had to watch too many tortured souls lose their humanity to evil, bury them.

Addiction is nasty.

I am subject to the same obsessive behavior that lives in my family history. Mine is eating. I've gotten drive thru on my way home from work then eaten dinner. I chose eating over paying bills. I would pay in cash so it wouldn't show up on the credit card bill and my husband(s) didn't know I just ate six doughnuts in the car. I then drove to dumpsters away from my home to throw away the evidence.

For me, eating was an event. I'd plan the meal like planning an elaborate date. My go-to binge was homemade fried chicken or steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, garlic bread and Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby. And not a portion, the entire meal. Three to four chicken thighs, four potatoes, and entire box of Texas Toast and an entire pint of ice cream. Eating is a comfort. When everything else in life is in chaos, I can control the eating. And that is the power of addiction.



Nutrition for this single meal:

Calories: 3902
Fat: 206 g
Cholesterol: 540 mg
Sodium: 4722 mg
Carbohydrates: 367.2 g
Protein: 132 g

One meal had all of that in it. My consumption limits are 2000 calories, 2000 mg of sodium and 100 g of carbohydrates... a day! Not a meal, A DAY!

Addiction makes you think you are in control. But you aren't! It takes away your self control, you rationality, your priorities. You are a puppet on a string and have no control over your actions. For some, the only way out is suicide. Sometimes, the addiction takes them before they can take themselves.

So why am I a fraud? Because there have been times recently this behavior has raised it's ugly head. I brag on Facebook that I resisted this food or that food, then go home and eat Cecilia's potty training candy stash. I'm never truly aware I have done it until it is over. That's how powerful this is.

But I'm also blessed.

I am surrounded by people who support me, who love me unconditionally. Y'all have taught me I'm just fine as I am, and to imagine how much more I could be if I were healthy. I deserve to be healthy. To love myself the way you love me, the way God loves me. I will think about food every day for the rest of my life. But I won't let it rule my life.

Thank you! Thank you for letting me put this out there, after years of hiding it. Thank you for joining me on this journey. And thank you for keeping me honest.