Oh Baby....

So if I'm trying to be honest with myself, trying to work things out that are scrambling around in my brain in hopes that I'm able to let go and move forward, there is something I need to address.
And... oh baby... it's a doozy!
It also happens to start with a baby.  Not my baby.  No, the baby my ex is about to have in a month or so.  Yeah.  Even just writing that makes my emotions confused.  I don't know whether to feel sad or angry or nauseous or disgusted or defeated. 


The truth of the matter is, I've never  been a baby person.  Yes, I can be polite and find something nice to say about your offspring, but it was never much of a priority for me.  Not something that I was very interested in experiencing for myself, at least. 


Until Thanksgiving 2012.  As per norm, after the holiday meal had been eaten, the kitchen clean, the sale papers looked over, conversation went to the talk of kids.  More specifically-- when were we going to be reproducing since we had been together for almost nine years at that point.  On our way home just the two of us, our conversation returned to the subject.  In that short car ride, he let me know that he was ready to have kids and I agreed (or succumbed to what I felt was my duty... the compromise I made when we married... to reproduce).  While mostly terrified-- a very small part of me was shockingly excited. 
I never really imagined myself as a mother.  Even with my best friend having the most adorable little boy ever, I loved the role of "Auntie" and savored the idea of being the part of a support cast-- someone to love and spoil and adore the little monkeys.  
So here I was... about to actually do this.  I started reading books, I went and got a physical, I bought expensive vitamins.  In 5 short months all systems were go... except... this happened to be the exact time I started to feel him slip away from me. 
It wasn't new, really.  We had been together for so long, peaks and valleys were a part of our relationship-- a part of any long term relationship really.  I knew just to be patient and he would come back to me.  Except he didn't.  By June I was back on the pill and by August... well, you know how that story goes. 


So here it is.  13 months from when our marriage ended, he is having a child with someone else.  A child will be born and I am still trying to piece my life together.  How did this happen?! 
My thoughts bounce through my head like lottery numbers and shoot out in strange order, not making any sense... but also making total sense.
It was one thing to be rejected as a person, but to be completely replaced so easily... that's a hard pill to swallow.  And this child... is going to be born to a father who is still married to someone else. WHO DOES THAT?!?!  I'm sure it's more common that I want to accept... I mean, it happens enough for Lifetime to have created it's own movie network right?  Hell-- it's why the Huffington Post even has it's own divorce Twitter account (@HuffPostDivorce).  My story isn't original.  It's not uniquely painful.  It's a pain that countless people have felt.  This happens.  And you deal with it and you move on.


Except I've been a bad friend lately while trying to ignore (but secretly obsessing) over this. I'm avoiding places I'll see kids.  I'm avoiding baby showers.  I cringe when I see baby announcements (except for my cousin Nancy-- I was really excited about that one!).   The really ridiculous part is I don't know if I'm more upset that he is having a baby or that now I probably never will.  Regardless--- I've been a bad friend and I need to take the time to apologize individually to people for that. 


And here-- where the journey is the joy and sometimes also the sorrow-- I am telling myself the following:
WHAT HE DOES IS NOT ABOUT YOU.  It's not about you.  It's not a reflection of you and the kind of mother you would have been.  What he does or says doesn't make you a failure and in fact-- things he has said (just because they were said) DOES NOT MEAN THEY ARE TRUE.  It is time to release yourself from the shackles you created years ago-- Your Self Worth Is Not Measured by Him.  Your Self Worth Is Not Measured by His Success or Failure.  Your Self Worth is YOURS ALONE.  Now you can choose to continue feeling sorry for yourself or you can move forward.  Life is a cumbia of sorts and you're bound to shuffle back and forth in this little dance, but maybe let yourself be the leader in this dance.  In fact-- embrace doing the cumbia completely by yourself for a while!  Turn when you want to turn, don't worry about holding someone else's frame or keeping the necessary tension for the give and take of a partner dance.  Enjoy twirling on the floor by yourself for a while-- shake that booty!  When the right partner comes along at the right time, your rhythms will sync and you'll find the steps together. 


But for now?  Dance with wild abandon to your favorite play list and Just. Let. Go.

Opperation Stress Reducing September

In my post-competition glow, I expected this week to be easy, fun, carefree and restful.  But in actuality it's been stressful and I've been uncharacteristically grumpy. 


Thinking about my finances this morning seemed to tighten my chest and really make me feel that grumpiness wash over me in a gigantic tidal wave.  Hmmm.. perhaps this month's spending has created a moody fog and it's time I do something about it (from heating pads, to extra chiropractor visits, a massage or two and supplements, etc.... boy trying to get competition ready and healthier has been expensive!). 


Hear ye, hear ye-- I declare that the month of September shall be the month of Self-Imposed Grounding.  Because I'm already on a roll, why not tackle another item on my 35 by 35 list?  For the month of September I will take on number 26.


26.  Go one full month without eating out at all.  Just homemade meals (by me or by friends).  Keep a journal of the experience.


Granted, I might be cheating a little bit because I'm going to blog about the experience, but still.  I'm ready to move this item into my "completed items" area.  So that... you know... there are two down there.  Progress and whatnot.   


So the great things about this are-- duh, I'll save money, the LuRong Living Paleo Challenge starts in September so I need to get used to cooking on the regular again anyway, I'll save money, it's healthier, I'll save money, I'll spend more time at home because I'll be doing meal prep and eating there, also-- I should end up saving some money.


The sad truths about this are-- I'll miss my salads at Dad's Kitchen that I really only get about once every other week, but are  such a fantastic treat, I'll miss quick and easy fixes from the Nugget deli section and my occasional Chipotle dinner, not eating out means not going out for coffee in the morning too.  Yikes. 


And it's not to say that I eat out every day or buy coffee every day (because I don't), but I love the convenience and the treat of it.  I mean really, what is better than a warm and yummy Americano made with love just for you?  Or going to brunch on Sunday with friends and sitting on a patio somewhere as the summer day's warmth creeps up on you.  Ok, now I'm romanticizing brunch.  Yep.  Definitely time to step back and gain some perspective. 


In further commitment to my grounding, I will not be going out in the month of September (with exception made for a birthday party I have already committed myself to... with super fun people).  No meeting up for beers, no shopping dates, no parties, no movies, no clubs, nada.  It'll be a month for me to hang out at home, spend time with the dogs and just breathe.  My social life will consist of working out with my good friends at CrossFit (and maybe even yoga if I can get myself back into the studio). 


This will be time for me to reflect, not just save.  It'll be time for me to sit quietly and enjoy the transition from Summer to Fall.  Time for me to read books that have stacked up in my office but haven't been started yet.  It'll be time for me to reflect and regroup. 


Should be fun, right??  I mean... what could possibly go wrong??? 
(Famous last words)

From Broken Promises

From broken promises, wounds that cannot be seen go deep.
From broken promises, pain can blind all senses-- all that there is, all that is left is just ache.
From broken promises, life can be reborn. Re-imagined.  Reclaimed.

Today would have been my 6th Wedding Anniversary.  Six years ago I was a happy bride, putting on a dress I wasn't crazy about, hanging out with my favorite people and about to make promises I had every intention of keeping.  Forever.

Unfortunately, the person I made those promises to did not have it within him to do the same.  Exactly one year ago he began to reveal to me how he was breaking all of those promises he had made.  He had promised to always be my greatest supporter, to love me and honor me, to be faithful and to grow old with me.  Instead.  A year ago horrible, unimaginable sentences were thrown at me like "You are not what a wife should be" and "I never should have proposed to you."

I wont go blow for blow through all of the promises he broke or relive all of the damage he did, but I will say this: the pain I felt, one year ago today, is by far the most excruciating, inexplicable, heart-wrenching pain I have ever felt in my life.  I wish that level of pain onto no one. 

While in the throws of agony, without my consent, time marched forward.  Life went on.  Things continued to happen.  Then the point came where I realized that I had two choices: 1) wallow in my self-pity forever or 2) move forward.

(That's not to say that I didn't spend some time having a pity party.  Oh no.  I had a great big pity party.  One that included tequila, cousins, friends, crafting, dogs licking my tears away, etc.  But as my pity party started to wind down I realized that I was ready for option 2.  I was ready to move forward.)

When texting my Beef last night he reframed this "Anniversary of Broken Promises" that I had in my head to the "Anniversary of When I Started Rebuilding My Life".  And that is exactly what it should be.

If I hadn't gone through hell a year ago, I wouldn't be where I am today.  Here is the thing-- my husband and I were very different people.  Different priorities in life, different needs and different wants.  We were holding each other back from what we both wanted.



Occasionally I find myself slipping back into sadness, mourning the life that I thought was supposed to be. I think that has been the hardest thing to deal with.  A year and a life time ago, I knew what my dreams were and I thought I knew what I wanted my future to look like. Things weren't perfect, and I wasn't necessarily happy-- but I had committed to the life I was living and I was confident in the fact that things would get better.  The dreams I once had are dead, but from those broken promises will be a future so amazing I haven't even begun to imagine it.  I suppose the strangest part (at least today) is that I haven't created new dreams.  I don't have a mental picture or a goal of what my life should look like or what I want it to look like.  In some ways that scares the crap out of me, but I think that's ok.

It's time for me to be scared.  It's time for me to challenge myself.  It's time for me to get comfortable with the uncomfortable.  This is, after all, how I grow from broken promises. 




I would thank everyone that has supported me through the last year.  Not that anyone really reads this blog... but still.  To my amazing friends and family that have carried me, cried with me, comforted me, laughed with me and have inspired me-- thank you so very much.

 

Dreams Be Dreams

I subscribe to the belief that dreams are really messages from the subconscious telling you what's up.  The crazy thing is that your subconscious is so smart, when we can be so oblivious to what's happening. 


For example, for the last year, at least once a month I have dreams (all night long) about tornados.  Talking with my brother (my dream directory guru), dreaming about tornados has to do emotional upheaval or the need for grounding (not the punishment kind, but the grounding of oneself through religion or belief in some greater purpose).  Looking up tornado dreams online, I find more information about how tornado dreams are about feeling out of control or overwhelmed, that there is potentially a destructive relationship in your life.  Hmmmm... feeling overwhelmed or out of control.  Um.. let's see here.  Do any of those directly relate to my life in the last year??  Yeah.  Hell yes.  Understatement.  I am definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto.   The real question I ask myself is why am I only dreaming about this once a month and not every night??  Maybe because only about once a month do I really feel the suffocating nature of all of this and rather than slash tires or scream, I dream about tornados?  Maybe.  Or not.


For another example-- (because my subconscious really likes to make sure to drill a point home and it also likes to be a bit theatrical)  enter the poltergeist dreams.  There are few things that really scare me (aside from swimming)-- paranormal activity is one of those things.  But, again about once a month or so I have dreams about poltergeists.  Any guesses what these dream mean?  Yep.  Basically it's that there is a lack of control over your life.  That you are getting in your own way.  In the dream, it isn't really the poltergeist that's freaking you out-- it's you.  You are the one creating the chaos and the scary crap.  It's all you.  You are the only one with the ability to stop the haunting. 


Thanks subconscious.  I get it.  My shit isn't together.  That's what happens though I suppose when you change careers 3 times within 3 years, your marriage falls apart and your dog dies.  Shit. Falls. Apart.  The good news is that shit is slowly coming back together.  Not enough to prevent the dreams, but enough that I'm slowly starting to feel like I'm facing my crap and (begrudgingly) will call myself on it. 


So what brings me to this topic today?  Well, last night I had very vivid dreams.  Violent, vivid dreams.  And rather than blaming it on the garlic I ate, I decided when I woke up to Google the violence to see what my subconscious was telling me. According to www.astrology.com my violent dreams have to do with repressed anger, wanting to become physically aggressive towards others and the dream is releasing anger for you.  You know.  So I don't go bananas in person.  From www.dreammoods.com it goes further to explain that you might be feeling helpless or vulnerable in some areas of your life. 


In two days it'll be 1 year since my marriage officially ended and also what would have been my 6th wedding anniversary.  So I guess there very well could be a little aggression and repressed anger build up.  Also a bit of helplessness and vulnerability.


The next question is, does knowing this help me in any way?  Maybe.  Probably.  I mean, if I can decode what my brain is trying to tell me, maybe I can deal with it.  Instead of repressing my anger, maybe I'll lift a little heavier today, push a little harder knowing that this is inside of me.  Instead of repressing my vulnerability, maybe I'll let myself give into tears if they appear instead of pushing them aside.  Regardless of any behavior changes that I make, I at least feel like I understand what's happening inside of me.  That even though I'm trying to keep a stiff upper lip and stay strong through this "anniversary", I get that maybe I'm not as evolved as I had hoped I was.  And that is ok.  It is.  I'm a work in progress, not perfection.  And I'm okay with that reminder.


But just for the record-- I'd really like to go back to my donut dreams tonight and not the tornado, poltergeist or violent ones....

Just Keep Swimming!

I've had time for the idea of swimming in competition to saturate my brain.




I still don't like it, it still makes me want to throw up in the trash can next to my desk. 




But I'm determined to do it. 




That's something amazing that I've learned as I've gotten older.  When I was younger I would kind of suppress emotion or my gut instincts and either hide, romanticize, lie or drink.  If I don't admit it, I don't have to deal with it.  Funny how that  got me into so many absolutely terrible situations.  Now that I'm older I've learned that if I allow myself to ride the waves of emotion and let myself feel what I'm feeling, I'll eventually get to a place where I can accept what is in front of me. 


So after 24 hours of freaking out and tears and anxiety, I have resigned myself to the fact that worry isn't going to change the WOD.  If I throw up, it's not like anyone is going to say "Oh no!  Look at that, she is so worried she is sick!  Let's get rid of the pool event!"  Nope.  All I am doing is avoiding a growth opportunity. 




Getting into the pool (by myself) at the local Globo Gym last night was terrifying.  But I didn't die.  25 yards is a really long length for a terrible swimmer to go.  But I didn't die.  I'd make my way across the pool, rest, calm myself down and them move along back to the other side of the pool.  I repeated that cycle for about 40 minutes.  The whole time just focusing on one point while actually in motion, and while resting telling myself I was ok.  It's highly unlikely I am going to drown in 4 feet of water.  It's highly unlikely I am going to drown in 5 feet of water.  Let's just hope the competition pool isn't much deeper than that.....


So here is the thing.  I stand behind my freak out.  I support my freak out.  I'm allowed to freak out.  But only because it helps get me to a place where I can move forward. 


And I have no choice but to just keep swimming!

A Blank Page

Where do I even start? 
Do I start with "Wow... I forgot about this blog I started back in 2011!"   
Do I start with "Damn... a lot has changed since 2011..."
Or do I just jump right in with an emotional dump?


I think I'll go with number 3.
This year has been a year of a lot of change.  A lot.  Both hard change and good change, it's funny how most times they go hand in hand, right?  So, here I have been for the last year kind of refiguring out my life and the direction it is "supposed to take." 


One such fabulous change initiated was creating a bucket list of sorts.  The idea was to make an actual list of things I've either been too afraid to do or things that I have been putting off for no good reason and make a deadline.  My list of "35 By 35" is a mixture of fun, adventure and *gulp* fear.  A snapshot of this list?
2. Sing karaoke in a random place, while on a road trip.
10. Learn Spanish
16. Do Yoga outside of California
19.  Attempt a free-throw on an NBA court
22. Go one full week with only using your iPhone as a phone.  No texts, tweets, facebook, email, etc.  It's just a phone.
25.  Go to Alcatraz.  By boat.  On the ocean.  In the water.  And live to tell the tale.
29. Conquer your fear of BOX JUMPS.
33.  Take a creative writing class


These are just some of the highlights.  But today?  Today #7 on this list has brought me here. 


7.  Compete in a CrossFit competition.




What??  Really?  Why would I put this on my list??  I'm not an athlete, I'm not coordinated, I'm not competitive.  WHY on EARTH would I put this on my list?  Because I am crazy.  Because I have a death wish.  Or maybe because I know that sometimes I need a little challenge and a little fear to move a little bit further than I thought I was capable of.


So I made this list back in January.  The number of items I have been able to cross off since then?  In 8 months-- zero.  At then end of the month though, I'll be able to check off #7.  A friend from the box* I work out at invited me to join her for Moxie Madness-- a team competition in San Jose.  The team would be comprised of 2 men and 2 women and she was registering for the Novice division.  Even though I have done CrossFit for a while, I have never competed and I am still basically at the Novice level, based on my proficiency (or lack there of) in some of the basic movements.  Like pull ups.  Oh well!  I joined the team.  We would have 2 months to train and become a cohesive unit. 


With a strict training schedule and few rest days, areas I never thought I'd see improvements were magically improving.  It's amazing what a little effort and a deadline can produce, right???  I've made huge improvements in strength (PRs in all of my lifts) and coordination (double unders will be made my bitch).  Then there was a teaser picture released about two weeks ago.  One that put a major hitch in my get-a-long.   It was a picture of a lap pool. 


Although I love being by the ocean, I love lounging pool side and I'll even hang out along the bank of a river... I? Do.  Not. Swim.  I mean, I can keep afloat and can kind of move around in a safe, controlled, environment.  But the idea of swimming?  In an event??  At a competition?? IN A BATHING SUIT???  No.  Nope.  Count me out.


I went out and purchased a new bathing suit and a swim cap just in case, the entire time hoping this was just a big joke, not a for real option.  Yesterday?  Shit got real.  WOD** 3 was released.  A 400 yard swim, team relay.  All members of the team required to swim a  minimum of 25 yards or face a severe penalty. 


Enter panic attack. 


Not a cute, "Oh no!  I better prepare for this" kind of worry.  We are talking tears, snot bubbles and a few dry heaves.  I couldn't even look my coach in the eye at the box when I went to work out because I knew I would burst into tears about the ridiculous fears swimming (ha!) in my head. My coach is an amazing person.  He is.  Truly and amazing person and a great source of inspiration.  Additionally, he has been a friend for over 12 years and someone I admire, respect and want to make proud.  I'm going to be going out to compete in a field of God knows how many athletes and was already feeling weight on my shoulders to make him proud-- make the box proud-- as we are going out there, representing their name.  Now I'm going to be the fat girl, in tears, afraid to get in the pool on game day.


Here is the thing--- I am constantly reading Fitspo*** articles about people making their fitness successes and journeys NOT definable by what the scale says or by what society may say is "pretty" or "fit".  These are people making things happen, achieving goals and making waves in fitness.  Most notably, recently, there was Andrea, creator of "I'mperfect Life" and her amazing I Love My Ugly Body post (available to read at imperfectlife.net ).  There is the story of Amanda from Reebok CrossFit Bare Cove in Massachusetts ( available to read and watch at http://brandnewstart13.blogspot.com/2014/08/this-is-crossfit.html ).    And of course I can't forget the story of Greg L. titled "I Took Last Place in the CrossFit Games Opens" (a July 3rd blog post from www.crossfitindustrious.com ). 


I know my success wont be defined by what size my Lulu Wunder Under Crops*^ are.  I know my success wont be defined by how much slower I swim than everyone else out there at Moxie-- this is after all a TEAM competition.  But with this swimming WOD I was reduced to a pile of tears because I am being (voluntarily) forced to face two of my BIGGEST fears--
1) Swimming
2) My body


Also?  I have amazingly supportive friends.  I've received numerous offers from people to help me with my swimming; I've received funny and supportive pictures via text to make me remember that there aren't sharks in swimming pools and I have fat, I am not fat; I've received phone calls, messages and even a supportive team member hug-- everyone assuring me that this will be ok.  It'll be ok. 


So why can't I get that through my thick skull?  What is it about fear that you can hear and understand and receive so many powerful messages from the community around you but they just don't seem to saturate.  It's like my brain is a sponge.  And it's so completely saturated with fear and self-loathing that it can't absorb any of the good stuff being splashed it's way.  No one can help me wring out the sponge and get rid of the stinky-smelling, energy fouling fear moisture.  Only I can do that.  So how do I get there?  Honestly, writing this out helps me see how absolutely ridiculous this all is.  I voluntarily signed up for this.  Suck it up, buttercup and just do the work.  That's what it comes down to. 


So why do I still feel like I'm going to vomit?


*box-- CrossFit speak for gym or affiliate
** WOD-- Workout Of the Day
***Fitspo-- fitness inspiration blogs/stories/pictures
*^-- www.lululemon.com