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The Choice.

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The Choice.

25 years ago today…unbelievable.

Karma Is A Funny Thing

Warning…many will take offense. Some will hate me. Or pretend they do not know me anymore. Some will even pity me…

That is THEIR choice.

It was about ninety degrees on June 1, 1991. It felt like 110 in the shade as I lay on the steaming hot pavement in my own vomit…retching. Sobbing.

I will never forget this day…ever.

It was a few weeks before I was barely about to graduate high school. I had just fooled them all at my senior prom. I could have kept up the facade for a little longer…but I didn’t have a choice, I was told this was the only way out…

As an adult now, I realize I did have a choice.

But when you run away from home, or get kicked out and are reliant on others…you feel like you have no choice.

I woke up on the table…

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The Choice.

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The Choice.

Warning…many will take offense. Some will hate me. Or pretend they do not know me anymore. Some will even pity me…

That is THEIR choice.

It was about ninety degrees on June 1, 1991. It felt like 110 in the shade as I lay on the steaming hot pavement in my own vomit…retching. Sobbing.

I will never forget this day…ever.

It was a few weeks before I was barely about to graduate high school. I had just fooled them all at my senior prom. I could have kept up the facade for a little longer…but I didn’t have a choice, I was told this was the only way out…

As an adult now, I realize I did have a choice.

But when you run away from home, or get kicked out and are reliant on others…you feel like you have no choice.

I woke up on the table after being sedated, in the midst of it all…the loud noise, the lights, the people hovering over me.

I believe that is the moment that haunts me the most…waking, even groggy still from sedation, knowing what was happening. More so than the cowardly way I slumped in my chair in the waiting room before it began…wondering if the others were feeling the same way as me.

I cried myself to sleep in the back of the car, begging for fresh air to cool my face, covered in dried vomit and tears.

Somehow I managed to make it to my bed, and awakened hours later…pain so bad I could tear my own heart out…not physical pain so much, but because it was my heart that was aching…

And the empty feeling in my belly. I clawed at my stomach screaming to make this madness stop. To undo what had happened.

Next thing, I am given a Valium…out cold again.

I was in a dark place mentally back then…before this all happened.

It was literally my first time…and then I was pregnant. A senior in high school. An aspiring fashion designer. A child who just wanted her divorced parents’ love and for them to stop fighting.

Well, this got their attention alright. They found out a while later…they shed no tears for me…just more anger and pain. I was ashamed. I kept my story to myself… I was absolved of my sin by a priest after my family found out. Time to forget it forever…put it behind me.

SHAME.

I live with this every second of every day.

I couldn’t put it behind me. Even as life moved on.

But in no way shape or form, did life fill the void in my belly...in my heart.

Did I want a child at eighteen? No…I had no clue what I would have done. But there is not one day since June 1, 1991 that I do not think of him…I know in my heart it was a boy.

I swore God would never allow me to be happy again…my Catholic guilt growing larger everyday.

God was good enough to let me heal enough to graduate and temporarily mend things with my family…but I knew that he would punish me. The little girl in me said I would never be a mommy because of what I did that day.

Almost five years later, I was granted a gift. After almost losing my baby and  my life during my pregnancy, God gave us a beautiful baby girl…I lost an ovary through it all, but I felt like I had truly been absolved…that there was a God and that I had to suffer a little to finally appreciate what I had.

And I did. Life was challenging then, but I had this beautiful baby and thought I would never have any more after losing an ovary and all that my body went through to deliver her safely. And yet I was given a second chance… 

I had to embrace it.

Three more amazingly beautiful children later and almost nineteen years of a happy marriage with a husband who has heard this all and held me as I cried over and over, and I feel like God forgave me…but why am I still not forgiving myself? Is it that Catholic guilt or shame? Or simply because it truly wasn’t my choice?

I cringe everytime I read an article on this topic. I cry. I mourn. I had a choice. Maybe I made the wrong one, but my life would be very different today if I had fought back and said to them that  I had a choice in the matter.

He didn’t love me…and I didn’t love him.

Yes I was a fool…but I was just looking for love after years of being lost and made a terrible mistake.

I will never tell anyone to rid the world of abortion… There. I said it.

Abortion.

It is an ugly word. Our world has made it ugly.

But what about that girl who is raped or molested?

What about the girl like me?

What would I have done?

I would have been sent packing to live on the streets pregnant and alone…fearful of what my very catholic family would say…or maybe worse…maybe I would have killed myself or attempted to from the deep depression and shame that was setting in.

Or maybe turn to adoption…but that was never an option for some reason and I was too naive to think these things through as an eighteen year old fighting the world and everyone in it.

Do I believe that maybe I could have beaten the odds?

Found the strength to fight back and keep my child?

Found a way to finish school and pursue my dreams as an artist?

Make it work?

Hell yeah…I thought that an hour ago, and last week, or last summer when I almost had a nervous breakdown about the lie I have lived with for so long.

I know girls that did beat the odds and persevered alone with their child…yes, they have struggled to make ends meet and finish school and find love again while raising a child alone…

Some will say I gave up too easily.

Shame on me.

But even more shame for hiding it…it is part of who I am…he was part of me and will forever be my fifth child…my first. I ache for him, as any mother would over a child lost…even more so when I see how cruel life can be and take our loved ones away in an instant.

So why voluntarily do it?

My eighteen year old self said she did it because it was the only way out and because they told her to.

My Forty-something year old self says it was the shame and guilt that the scared girl couldn’t bare to face.

She did though. Faced all of it…

Took countless blows to the chin, and then when the dust settled, tucked her dirty little secret away…until now.

We all have choices in this life…and we have to live with the consquences each and everyday.

I feel that hot pavement from that day on my face twenty-four years ago like I  am living that moment now…it was a choice…one that will follow me like a dark cloud till the day I die.

Judge me, hate me, pray for me.

Do whatever you like. But I will not lie or hide this part of me anymore. My older girls know my story now. As a lesson to make better choices…but no one should make those choices for you…no one.

Today I honor the love that I lost, and all that I have gained…most importantly…

Truth.

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I smile today…I am owning this. My first ever tattoo…proudly wearing a badge forever of all my babies…four born, one lost, and one gained.

Blogs.

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Blogs.

I was just checking in to see what is up on my stats (for the fiftieth time today) and what might be freshly pressed.

Which had me thinking what this blogging business is all about.

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Is it just merely editorials for writers that don’t get that big job at a newspaper or magazine they really wanted to write for,  a new type of career path for writers, or for moms like me who have a lot to say about something and sometimes nothing at all, or even those b.s.’ers that claim you can make thousands a month writing a blog? STILL waiting for that big fat check to arrive…

Are they open journals about feelings and life, or heartache and happiness?

As I scroll through, the titles catch my eye sometimes, as well as the featured image.

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But still cannot understand how this blogging business got so popular…

I remember back in the day of Myspace, they added a new section on profiles to add a blog…say what?

I had to ask my husband  what this “blogging” was all about… but he was also clueless, and so I just wound up ignoring it. I’m sure I had plenty to say back then, and would blog like a mad woman if I had known what to do with a blog.

So as I see blogs about blogging or religion…or life as we moms or humans see it, I am reminded that it is a current modern trend that I must simply embrace as an outlet for venting of my life’s mundane and not-so mundane moments.

I would like to think that I am a blogger now (one of millions)…whatever that may mean in the big scheme of things…I love it.

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Taking The Plunge.

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Taking The Plunge.

I always thought I knew something about this. Diving deep into it, realizing I literally had no clue what I was trying to do.

It is very similar to dating. It needs to be a perfect fit. It needs to be submerged totally into the situation to be able to commit. To make it work. Otherwise, it will suck you dry or overflow with emotion.

That was me and my hot date tonight…

With a plunger.

I swear I knew how to use one.

After living on my own for a few years and my hubby traveling sometimes more than being home, I assumed I used one on occasion.

Not the case after scouring countless websites and DIY videos. After running to Lowe’s with my two little ones to buy a snake just in case my final attempt at plunging failed yet again.

On top of my fears of not being able to fix not one but TWO clogged toilets, I began my usual ranting and raving and discovered that my kids MAY have been throwing kitty litter in the one toilet from the litter boxes…

Well, well, well…

Needless to say when I googled that topic, it was not a good outcome. And the young kind fella  in Lowe’s who led me to the snakes,  looked bug-eyed and pursed his lips…then reiterated what I had already read online…

VERY bad.

Very expensive…and may need to pull the toilet out.

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 Not this mama.

I scanned the internet some more on the how-to’s of using a snake, put my Supermom cape on and used my ten-dollar snake till I conquered both toilets.

Messy. Gross. Disgusting.

Don’t think we should ever compare dating to the act of plunging a toilet…maybe some marriages or relationships and friendships after they run their course…but not dating.  They may seem similar, but I may be a tad on the grumpy side tonight after the events of my day (while the hubby is on yet another trip…not just for Utah anymore-see blog regarding Utah), so don’t take dating advice from me.

But if you are on a date and you are thinking this person may just suck the life out of you,  then run. Or call a plumber…he could just be what you were always waiting for!

FAT.

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FAT.

Oh yeah…that is a bad word.

It is mean.

It ticks people off. It brings out the worst in people.

Well, when you are pointing out someone’s struggle with weight, that is…

It is just plain rude or annoying.

Been there, done that.

I recently had a person go so far as to ask me if I was pregnant again…

Yep they said that.

Which is a moment when you feel more sorry for the person who just made the comment than feeling sorry for your overweight self. That awkward moment…

Silence… and then the realization of what just occurred.  Ouch.

Yes it hurt.

I cried.

I wallowed in countless cookies and treats…why deprive myself of my favorite goodies? Losing two pounds after months of walking and changing my diet ( I was PROUD of those two shed pounds) , and someone STILL thinks I look pregnant?

My response was…”Nope…no baby. Just FAT“…

Heck…why not?  Why can’t I say that to her?

If she was bold enough to say it, I was bold enough, and FAT enough apparently,  to fight back.

I still say hi and smile to my charming aquaintance, but will never forget that moment.

It was a definite motivator.

Funny though that the person has yet to notice the thirty pounds of FAT that have left my body forever.

That is ok…

I did.

I finally caved, and bought some new jeans.

Twice! ( That deserves an exclamation point!) I am down two sizes…and just about ready for another downsizing.

Which was weird for me after years of struggling with only two or five pounds at the most.

But AWESOME all at the same time!

I hesitated for a few months actually to buy anything. I think I was playing mind games with myself…the FAT always returns…do NOT purchase or donate anything just yet.

Maybe it isn’t as noticable in jeans that fit me properly now. I truly thought it was more noticable when it looked like I could fit two of me in my jeans as I constantly needed to hike them up even with a belt.

My momma pouch/jelly roll always held the waistline or belt in place…but not anymore. Not too much fat lives in that area now.

I may still be a little bigger than the average woman, but feeling good inside and out…jumping and running to chase my kids is FUN now…not embarassing.

This is MY small victory against FAT…thirty pounds was something I only saw one other time in my battle against weight loss and getting healthy.

 

THIRTY POUNDS…that is equivalent to ten meatloafs for my family…

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 That’s alot of meatloaf.

I pray that no one takes offense to my story. I write this knowing dozens of women I adore, love, and respect are fighting the good fight with FAT. And I am certain there are thousands more. Maybe it would motivate one…maybe none.

But that is ok.

I am proud of me…and FAT is not my friend anymore.

Tres Amigos

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Tres Amigos

Inseperable. That is what they were-three young boys who grew into men…a long time ago. A bond of brotherly love. Whether it was due to a shared love of the ocean or music or good times, it didn’t matter. The bond was there. They couldn’t have been more diffrrent from each other, one quiet and reserved,  one dark and looming, the other outgoing and optimistic.

Maybe that is what drew them together.  Bringing together balance. They didn’t see each other every day as they got older, but the love was still there.

Then it happened.

                                                                                                                                      The bond was broken.

The darkness for one was too much to bare…luring in even more darkness with drugs to numb the pain…until there was no more pain…or darkness…peace at last…but now what?

How can two people find that balance for each other when it took three to complete the circle? The circle was broken…oozing anger and hurt and despair of how to move on without one of them…

Life moved on…oddly and quietly at first.

One started life…marriage and babies and a home and happiness.

The other tried….tried and tried and tried so hard. That incomplete circle was reminding him of misery he couldn’t bare to face. That hole in his heart ached. It did for both, but one could mask any pain sent his way…the other…slowly began destroying himself from within. He masked his pain with booze, and smokes and bad relationships…

Even found marriage and a baby….and lost it all…because that circle was still oozing pain and fear and hurt.

These two stood briefly together again with hope that the circle was closing and the pain was so far in the past, that they couldn’t feel it anymore…one holding the other up and giving him strength and hope…

Was it enough?

Sadly, I don’t think so. I pray quietly that it is and will be enough to slowly have him rise above it. Not to let pain and suffering own him anymore.

There were three amigos…good times, smiles, and hope. Then there were two…and now, one will crumble without the other. Things in my mind happen for a reason. These two lost each other a long time ago, but not their brotherly love for each other…they came together again because they together will close that circle of pain and hurt…they will rise above this in honor of the one they lost…it has to be this way…it just has to.

Healthy Makes Happy.

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thyroidI am the queen of dieting…or one of millions of queens on the diet carousel. Round and round we go…and keep hopping off before the ride ends. I have done this ever since I became a mother.  Especially after I was diagnosed with Hypothyroidism.  I ballooned up after my second daughter was born…I literally felt and looked like a pufferfish.  I thought I had post partum depression really bad…I was miserable.  I finally went to the doctor after about seven months of misery.  He thought it was depression too, since I had it after my first pregnancy. But thought more of it, and decided to do a full bloodwork up to check everything. Thank GOD he did. I was handed a pamphlet about Hashimoto’s ( Hashi what?!! A side note-I never have heard a doctor say this again in fourteen years…), started my meds immediately, lost about thirty pounds in a couple of months with ease,  and never looked back…until my next two pregnancies…and turning 40.

So this still very young body of mine has felt to be about eighty for the past few years.  It got progressively worse after our son was born. I had him when I was thirty-nine going on forty. The weight wouldn’t budge…even with two years of nursing( all the supermodels and celebrity moms SWEAR the pounds melt off with nursing) and changing my diet…I said to myself- I give up.

I am just going eat pizza and drink regular beer and have as many cupcakes as I want. Why bother? Then I kept getting sick…sinus infection after sinus infection. On my last bout of illness in March(including a breast scare), I went to the doctor for yet another antibiotic…my blood pressure was abnormally high for me (150/100) and my sugar was elevated as well as cholesterol…my knees ached, and couldn’t bend a few of my fingers without pain. The nurse informed me it isn’t my thyroid because my labs are ALWAYS normal…it is age. I am getting old, so therefore losing weight “will be an uphill battle from here”. Is this lady really saying this to me right now??? I was miserable. I was sick. And I was especially sick of being sick.

I got a call a few days later from my doctor to inform me that I need to see a nutritionist now because I was pre diabetic. I needed to get the weight under control. I was informed at the nutritionist that I was “obese”…my heart sank. How was this woman calling me obese?!! I know I am a little chunkier than a few years back…but obese?!! What is going on with me?

After a somewhat informative visit to the nutritionist, I decided she was telling me everything I already knew and was doing.  But I was still “obese”.  I started googling, and scanning the internet and facebook for all things thyroid.  Facebook had it all.  This is why I stick around, Mark Zuckerberg.

Which brings me today (for fear of overloading you with too many details).  My new journey started at the end of May.  I found an integrative nutritionist who gets it. Who listens. Does that actually exist anymore?  Thankfully it does. She does.  I have been losing the weight slowly but I am down twelve and a half pounds since I started eating healthier(or so I thought) on my own in January to lose the weight. But with my new doctor, I have a new clean diet, more energy and a healthier outlook. Except for one roadblock-my thyroid.

 

The piece de resistance…I went to my GP the other day to beg and plead to have complete thyroid panel done ( they have refused constantly and even for the need to get a referral to see an endo) and a A1C test done (recommended by both nutritionists) to see what is going on with my sugar level.  SHE AGREED!!!! Can I just say I have NEVER been happier to go to the lab for blood work?!! I literally danced when I got out to the car…it was a small but oh so important victory.

See, they can say no all they want to do this test or that. But I know my body. I know that even with my new diet and way of thinking, something is still not right.  So as I end this blog today, know that I will be making this a good karma kind of day…victory is MINE (as Famous Footwear tells me regularly via emails)!

Update since original post: I have been officially diagnosed with Rheumatoid arthritis after FINALLY confirming I had Hashimoto’s fourteen years later. I may also have psoriatic arthritis and this seems to flare when I eat something that is a “cheat”, yet another food sensitivity, or not on my AIP. I have successfully lost a little over twenty pounds…slow and steady.  (Note to all Autoimmune sufferers…Gluten is NOT your friend! Eliminating Gluten brought me more relief than anything)…But most importantly,  I FEEL better! Not so many aches and pains and my energy level is amazing…all priceless accomplishments for anyone suffering from an autoimmune disorder.