Used To...

In the last year and a half I have lost and gained weight.  I finally stuck to the age-old method of eat less/exercise more and over the last 11-ish months I have lost roughly 70+ pounds. 

About six weeks ago I decided to push myself a little harder than normal and I went on a six mile jog instead of a three mile jog.  I was elated.  The next night I went for a seven mile jog.  I couldn't believe it!  A year ago I weighed 279 (or more, maybe) and now I'm running seven miles!

But, my knee started hurting.  Not a little.  A LOT.  Ten minutes into my runs it felt like someone was stabbing me in the side of my kneecap.  *Sigh*

So, went to the doctor and discovered that I had caused myself IT Band Syndrome.  Solution: Physical Therapy coupled with heavy stretching, rest (no jogging) and strength exercises for my hip flexors.

Fast forward four weeks and I am still in massive amounts of pain (yeah, I know...there's no crying in baseball...blah blah blah) and I've packed on 11 pounds (some of it was water weight and some of it was being a fatass and stuffing my emotions into my pie-hole).

I started feeling pretty sorry for myself.  And I continued the vicious cycle of beat-self-up-so-shove-more-food-in-my-mouth-and-continue-to-go-gain-weight-so-beat-self-up-some-more-and-man-those-nachos-look-delicious-I-should-probably-eat-all-the-nachos-I-can-until-I-feel-like-puking.  Yep, it was that serious.

I'm back on track now and following my PT religiously.  Yes, my leg/knee is still in a considerable amount of pain (please, don't even look at my left leg) but I've gained control of my eating again and here's why I will stop living in the past and starting recognizing the things I have accomplished:

-I used to weigh 279...but now I weigh 188 (as of this morning).

-I used to feel like shit and stuff my face full of junk food because I felt like shit, thereby causing me to feel even more shitty...but now I keep healthy snacks around me because I know I lack self-control.

-I used to get winded and sweaty just from walking around in the grocery store...but now I can exercise (jog/cycle) without even blinking.

-I used to wear (tight) size 26 pants...but now I wear a comfortable size 14.

-I used to not be able to tie my shoes without almost passing out because my stomach was so huge...but now I can do yoga for an hour.

The point is - I will STOP beating myself up because I was human and gained back 11 pounds.  I am not finished and I have not reached the 'Big Goal'...but I am only 40 pounds away from my goal weight (and currently I am not really focused on weight but I'm focused on how I feel and look in my clothes).  Last year I was 139 pounds away from my goal...now I'm only 40 pounds.  That's fucking amazing, dammit.

Never give up.  Even if you gain 11 pounds back.  Start over.  Right now.  Do it.  No excuses (within reason).

-IndiaGuerita

     
Left side was Thanksgiving day in 2010.  Right side was this morning. 
                                         

Elysium Fields

Last night my husband and I sat outside after the kids were in bed and we were watching music videos and chatting.  Randomly I started talking about some of my favorite memories of my friend who passed away almost three months ago.

Most of the memories were sweet and funny.  But some were sad and serious memories, memories that left me with feelings of a regret that I have never felt before. 

As we sat together and my husband listened to my tales of shenanigans, fights and private conversations that I had with my friend that I had never shared with anyone before, my thoughts turned melancholy. 

I looked at my husband and I could feel the tears starting behind my eyelids.  I asked him simply: Why?  Why do you think it had to be him?  He was full of pure, unadulterated goodness.  His smile could change the course of your day. 

My husband stared at me and I prepared for the typical 'That's life' response.  I didn't want to hear that response anymore.  I needed a reason for this pointless tragedy.  (Everything happens for a reason, right?)  His response was much better than 'That's life'.  It was exactly what I needed to hear, although I was not quite prepared for the tranquility and epiphany that followed. 

In Greek mythology there is a place called the Elysium Fields.  It is a place that Catholics would call Pergatory.  It is a place where the dead go to be 'judged'.  Hades...or Heaven.  Or in some cases the dead choose to remain in Elysium Fields. 

"Initially separate from the realm of Hades, admission was initially reserved for mortals related to the gods and other heroes. Later, it expanded to include those chosen by the gods, the righteous, and the heroic, where they would remain after death, to live a blessed and happy life, and indulging in whatever employment they had enjoyed in life."

I think this is where my friend is right now.  I think he stays behind - making his 'visits' via dreams to his friends and family who have been so devastated by his loss.  He is telling us that he is okay, that he is happy.  He is checking on us - making sure that we are okay and that we are happy.  I laughed and told my husband that my friend visited me, in a dream, not long after his death and he was smiling, like always.  He was laughing and he told me:  I'm fine!  Really!  I'm so happy.  I will be okay... 

My husband responded that my friend really was a remarkable man...even in death he is selfless.  I laughed...hysterically.  It is true!  It's exactly the kind of thing my friend would have done.  He would stay behind...prolonging his journey to the true afterlife to make sure that his friends and family are at peace. 

This morning I had a moment of clarity while I was driving to work.  I was thinking about him making his dream visits and I silently begged for one last visit.  The selfishness of this request hit me like a ton of bricks.  My selfishness was delaying the moment that my friend had worked his short 28 years for: Being at the right hand of God.

And so, my dearest, sweet, honorable, selfless, intelligent, radiant and truly one-of-a-kind friend...I am letting go.  Thank you for checking in on me but I want you to go now.  I am at peace.  I will never, ever have a day that you do not cross my mind.  You deserve to go and enjoy your rightful and well earned place in Heaven or in Elysium Fields.  I will miss you.

-IndiaGuerita

"And they live untouched by sorrow in the islands of the blessed along the shore of deep-swirling Ocean, happy heroes for whom the grain-giving earth bears honey-sweet fruit flourishing thrice a year, far from the deathless gods, and Cronos rules over them." -Hesiod, Works and Days

Land of the Free?

Yesterday, while talking to a friend of mine, I found out that he could not put his domestic partner on his insurance.  What, whaaaat? 

I thought to myself...nah...that can't be right.  I'll just do some research and fix this for him.  So, I started reading.  I read through our employee handbook.  I read the confusing and vague 'laws' that I found (Yes...'on the internet'). 

I just sat there staring at my husband.  This just can't be right.  These are human beings we're talking about.  And they can't get health insurance together...because...?  Someone is morally outraged?  Why?

I don't get it, 'Murica.  Logically it does not make sense for domestic partners not be insurable under the same policy.  This is not about morals...this is not about religion.  This about basic rights as a human.  I feel like insurance companies and employers are telling homosexuals to go to the 'back of the bus'...

Are we really the land of the free?  I don't know anymore...

Making Mistakes

My husband and I were discussing our decisions over the past 12 years and how each time we decide to change/do something new...it turns in a clusterfuck of epic proportions.  We even asked ourselves: Are we losers?  Or are we just...*gasp*...stupid?

Everyone makes mistakes in life...and really - making mistakes is part of the learning process for me.  I understand and accept this fact...even if it means learning the hard way.  But, I'm tired.  We're tired.  We go to bed every night and stare at our ceiling, lost in our thoughts.  (Or, at least I do...usually he's snoring within minutes of hitting the pillow.)

I want to go back to college and get a degree...in something...in anything.  I feel like the key to us getting ahead and 'making something of ourselves' is an education.  I see my friends and acquaintances on FaceBook moving up...making money...happy.  And they continued with their education and started their family after their career took off.  Don't get me wrong...I do not regret my choices of getting married at a young age and having children right away.  At the time, it was right for our family.  But, now we're stuck...in a place we don't really like...away from our families and broke.  Not destitute...we have a roof over our heads...and food in the pantry.  But, we only have one car...which barely runs...we have literally been stuck inside the house for all of summer because when one is home, with the kids, the other is at work...with the car. 

I don't need fancy toys or million dollar cars/houses...I just want to be comfortable.  I just want to go to the beach on the weekends without worrying about gas money...or grocery money...and not worrying about having a hamburger at the local beach side hole-in-the-wall. 

This wasn't really supposed to be about money...it was supposed to be about how my mistakes and decisions have driven us into the ground and forced us to make last-second decisions that ultimately make things worse - no matter how much we've analyzed the decision beforehand (usually only a few days before we dive in - headfirst).

For example...last year I was offered a promotion.  In a different state.  A state with a beach.  And palm trees.  And more money.  So...I dove in...headfirst.  And here we are.  Isolated...broke...stuck.  It's not all bad...it's really not.  The beach is okay.  The restaurants are okay.  And there are definitely palm trees here.  It's not any more expensive than where we were before.  But, something is missing here and I can't put my finger on it.  I can't believe I'm going to say this...after all the years of promising myself that I would leave Kansas come hell or high water...but I think I left my heart in Kansas. 

I left it with the people who I left behind.  I miss my family and my friends.  I'm not tied to the land...just the people (although the thought of being in a shark and gator-free state is very enticing).  I miss my mom.  I miss my grandma.  People are dying there and I can't go to their funerals...I can't say goodbye.  And...I miss my little nieces and nephews. 

This is definitely not what I expected...and I neglected to think about these things before I dove in and ran, hysterically screaming and laughing at finally 'escaping'.  (What exactly did I escape?)

Anyways...it's time to do something.  I can't stay here forever...I can't watch people die from 1,200 miles away.  But, this time we have to do it right...for once.  With forethought and meticulous planning.  No more diving in headfirst. 

-IndiaGuerita

 

Angry

I lost a friend on Friday, July 19th.  This is the first time I have lost a friend.  I have run the gambit of emotions but today I am feeling very angry.  I feel like screaming and punching a brick wall.

Just tell me...how the fuck does a 96 year old still have a license to operate a (lethal weapon) 2,000 pound vehicle?  Where are the family members of this guy?  Selfish bastards, all of them, for not being more responsible.  Why did the state reissue a license to him?  He's 96!  His driving days were over...but it took a fatality accident for someone to take heed.  Where is the logic in this?

A young man's life is cut brutally short after only 28 years.  And yet the 96 year old lives to see another day.  (And probably won't even lose his driving privileges...I can just hear the public outcry on the man's 'rights' and civil liberties.  Puh-lease...gimme a fucking break.)

I know that my friend would not want me to feel this way.  He would want me to forgive and let God judge this man for his actions and consequences.  But, I'm not religious.  And I'm not ready to forgive...yet.  The bottom line, for me, is that if there were laws in place to do yearly testing for drivers over a certain age - or if family members gave a damn about their elderly - I would not even be writing this.

I needed to rage today - openly...and not on FaceBook.  I don't need to debate how I feel right now.  I don't need people to disagree with me and say: "Well...but..."  No, STFU and let me vent.  You all have God to get you through your grief.  I don't want to hear or see anymore sweet quips about 'being strong' and 'he's in a better place'.  WTF?  He's dead.  How is THAT better?  'He wouldn't want to see us like this'.......Huh?  How do you know that?  You don't know what our friendship was based on!  (It was based on shenanigans and laughter...giving each other shit on a daily basis just to make the other one laugh.  We only had one or two really serious conversations:  one about love and one about religion.)  I would never be so flippant as to tell a person (to whom my only tenuous connection is that of my friend) how they should be feeling or how they should be handling their grief. 

I understand that some of us deal with grief differently.  We react differently.  Some of us retreat.  Some of us get depressed, become numb or go into denial.  But some of us get angry.  And that's where I'm at right now.     

Part of my anger is my own guilt for not reaching out more to my friend after I left the job where we worked together.  We maintained basic contact through FaceBook...but there was a point in time that he would text me out of the blue and ask me how I was doing.  Why didn't I return that level of friendship?  How could I have been so stupid and lazy?  A simple text or a phone call to ask him how he was or if he was having a good day.  I took him so for granted.  I'm mad at myself for that.  Everyday for more than year he would stop by my desk or go outside with me to stand next to me while I smoked...just to ask me how my day was going.  Random hugs....man, I miss those random, heart-felt hugs.  I don't even LIKE hugs! 

I'm angry that I moved away and that I do not get to grieve with my former co-workers.  I'm angry at myself for not realizing that everyone is grieving, too.  Selfish, I know.  I thought about my friends pulling up to the building where they all worked - having to face the pain of entering the building or even looking for his car/motorcycle.  They are strong.  They are brave.  And I am sorry that they are going through this pain.

His family...my God, his family and lifelong friends.  It's so overwhelming.  To see their strength as they organize services and get his friends in gear to help the family and shield them from the horrible pain that they must be experiencing right now.  It's truly amazing to watch his friends at work.  Gathering pictures, stories and making the arrangements.  I don't know how they do it...I mean...I know they do it to honor him and his memory.  But, still.  They are all amazing people...and that makes sense - he would have surrounded himself with like people - completely amazing.

I imagine myself asking him:  You mad, bro?  And I can just hear him chuckle and say:  Not at all.  Not at all.

-IndiaGuerita

How I lost 50 pounds...I promise this is not a preachy blog post

On January 17th, 2013 I sat staring at the picture my husband had texted me. As I sat there and took in the full-body shot of myself I was stunned, speechless (except for my tears of shame and anger). How could I have let myself get this fat? I had several rolls of fat exploding over my size 24w pants and my shirt was stretched so tightly over my sausage rolls that it looked close to bursting open.
I decided in that instant that it was time for a change and this time I was not going to give up.

With the help of my husband and a few friends who had already traversed this rocky road, I started researching nutrition, calories and exercise. I didn't want to revert back to my fad diets that had failed me so miserably. I wanted to win this time around. I wanted to show my fat who was the boss. (Me.) 
 
I started exercising right away like a maniac. I did Insanity for nearly two weeks before collapsing to the ground in agony and sheer panic. I was wearing the poor-man's version of Spanx underneath my exercise clothes and I was gushing sweat profusely. While struggling to catch my breath and still prone I stared at my husband whose eyebrows were arched in concern and amusement. What was I thinking? I started with Olympic-athlete style exercises and I weigh 257 pounds!




So, I regrouped. I joined a free website for counting calories, MyFitnessPal.com. I downloaded the (free) fitness-tracking app Endomondo. And then I did something that jump started my weight loss forever and propelled me into true fitness: I downloaded the (free) C25K app. And last but not least - I bought a cheap food-measuring scale and a set of measuring cups.


I started measuring every bite I put into my mouth and tracking every morsel of food that I ate. I was astonished to find that although I thought I was only eating my recommended 1,600 daily calories - with all the extra bites and 'tastes' I was actually eating closer to 2,200 calories a day. I started doing the C25K app exactly as the app instructs. Horrifyingly, I found that I could BARELY jog (slowly) 30 seconds. I can jog (slowly, still) three miles and I've added bicycling, walking to the store with my three kids (three miles round trip) to get groceries and some weight training. (Side note: My oldest son was overweight too and he is now down 15 pounds just from some light portion control and adding more physical activity. We got rid of our Wii and cable TV. Those two things helped all of us immensely as far as getting rid of excuses not to go outside and get moving.)
 
I set four goals for myself when I started. The ultimate, big goal was to weigh 140 pounds. I figured this was a reasonable goal, especially after having three children and being age (almost) 30 (and also having been overweight my whole life I didn't want to pick an impossible weight and be frustrated by failure). My second 'mini' goal was to be under 200 pounds. I achieved this goal about a month ago. My third goal was simply to feel good. I wanted to feel good in my clothes, to feel good about standing next to my handsome, athletic husband. I wanted to feel good while playing with my kids and not feel like a sweaty, fat pig in this Florida humidity. (I still feel like a sweaty pig just slightly less fat.) My third goal was to look good. I wanted to feel sexy. (Maybe some women/men can feel sexy at 260 pounds, but I am not one of those women.) And my fourth and not yet achieved goal is to quit smoking cigarettes.
 
My friends, family and husband have been by my side (through Facebook, texts or literally by my side encouraging me to run an extra 30 seconds) throughout this six month process. I can't thank them enough for all the support they have given me. When I see other people's success it drives me forward and helps me turn down the office potluck offers of brownies (mmmmmmm...), chips and cake. Don't get me wrong, I will always be a fatty-at-heart. I love greasy tacos, french fries covered in blue cheese dressing and chocolate (God, how I love chocolate). And, I have made LOTS of mistakes along the way. (Just last week I ate four bowls of cereal in a row. It was delicious and so worth it.)

But, now after I make a mistake I evaluate why I craved certain foods and research which nutrient my body must be needing. And then I start over the next day.
 
My first random thought for the day: Turn off the TV (news) and turn on the music. I am so sick of hearing the media blather on about the Zimmerman/Martin case. For the love of all that is holy...it's OVER. Time to move on!
 
Second random thought of the day: Why didn't anyone warn me how hot and disgusting Florida is in the summer? Sweet bajeezus this place is stinky and humid.
 
As the Filipinos say: Kumuha ng pababa sa iyong masamang sarili! (Get down with your bad self!)
        

This picture is the picture I mentioned in the beginning.  The picture that changed it all.  I was too scared to weigh myself on this day but I was probably between 260-265.  (January 9, 2013)

    

 

This picture is from July 12, 2013.  I am 50 pounds lighter in this one.  55 more pounds to go until my goal!