Growl...

Today is day three of my Diet Fit plan and I am still trying to figure out how to eat at LEAST 35 grams of fiber a day. The IT manager asked what I was referring to when I said, "I'm doing the fiber thing" and he asked if I was writing about "thick poop" and how could I respond but in my own smartass manner of, "Yes, I'm writing about big turds."

Okay, I know that is enough potty talk for the day. My biggest worry about the fiber portion is that I am not going to have accurate findings and I am also famished, which tends to mess up any hope of lasting weight loss because my body will go into starvation mode. My metabolism and thyroid (what remains) is already totally messed up so I need not further destroy this basic bodily function. I've had a waffle with jam, two cups of coffee and an apple. I guess I better aim for a fiber rich lunch today so I don't come home and scarf down food like a Kurdish refugee.

So just how am I going to solve this issue? Eat paper? Buy expensive Fiber One bars? Depend on cereal that despite the claims of it being filling, it leaves me with my stomach grumbling what I am certain are the words, "Feed me, I'm starving"? I asked Diane at the gym last night and she said steel cut oats were the way to go. My manager suggested adding chia seeds to a smoothie. I am starting to feel as though I should have a feed bag.

So on I trudge with determination and a growling stomach.....

Diet Fit

As part of my job, I have the good fortune of getting to review books. Often the books I read are unedited and I get a sneak peek into what may be on the next New York Times bestseller list.

I just recently received a weight loss book, "The Case of the Unwanted Pounds," by Dr. Stutman, M.D. It is a food and exercise regimen with the hope of losing up to 15 pounds and 3 inches in the first 21 days. The plan alters a little after the first three weeks, but that is a pretty hefty weight loss for a short time frame. It is also a relatively simple concept. Daily food intake should include no more than 35 grams of fat and at least 35 grams of fiber. The fitness portion includes walking 35 minutes a day, six days a week and including one-two pound weights on three of the six days.

I decided to begin on a Monday following a weekend of debauchery. I weighed in at 159.8 lbs (that is a lot for me) and thought about how I was going to manage eating enough fiber in order to satiate my Sumo wrestler type appetite. I had an egg cooked in olive oil with two veggie sausages, a cup of coffee with creamer. Once I got to work, it didn't take long for the rumbling to begin. I filled my water bottle and dug out my apple.

The hustle and bustle of work helped with getting my mind on other matters but it wasn't long before I was dreaming of deep fried deliciousness that is McDonalds French fries, but fear not! I went to Subway and though my choice could have been even better, it still was not a heart attack in a bag.

Dinner is probably my greatest challenge because I am always extremely hungry and seem to never make either of the boys happy with my selections and while impatiently waiting for water to boil, meat to brown I scarf down salty potato chips. Last night, I sauteed chicken breast tenders with mesquite seasoning, chicken flavored rice and salad.

Walking just 35 minutes was hard for me to accept as my entire workout, but I did it. I envied the runners to the right ad left, but I proudly walked to the tunes rockin out in my MP3.

So with this, we shall see how I progress because I hope to ultimately lose 20 pounds and a total of 10 inches. Wish me well!

Holding Pattern

I'm a little sad and frankly a little selfish. I miss writing for myself and about my ridiculous self.

I have started therapy so I can figure just why it is I am the Queen of Failed Relationships. I often joke that I have a closet full of rattling skeletons, scraping their way out of the dark recesses of my past life. My therapist told me at my last appointment that my life is in a holding pattern, that I am in the middle of a bridge and trying to decide whether to return to the beginning or venture in the other direction.

What put me in the middle of this metaphorical bridge? Well, that is what I am trying to find out. It seems my sometimes desperate loneliness is a result of abandonment issues. Now I have the fun task of dredging up long ago memories of times when I felt alone and abandoned by those who should have comforted me and made me feel safe. While I am revisiting those times in my life, I don't feel like it is a blame game, simply a means for me to determine why I still can feel all alone in a crowded room full of people who love me.

All of this has translated to me living in an apartment with my boys and trying to figure out what to do next. I miss my dog and I'm scared to spend my 40th birthday and the holidays alone. I would never suggest that Robert is a bad person, jerk or someone I dislike. In fact, I am struggling with quite the opposite. When I am upset or not feeling well, he is immediate in checking in on me. If I have trouble with my car or the apartment, he never pauses to decide whether to help. Yet when I spend more than a few minutes around him, I am reminded of why I am in an apartment without my beloved Charlie.

For a person to be scared to be alone, it seems to be my destiny. It's ironic that I am the person at the paper who writes engagement, wedding and anniversary announcements. I frequently get a little misty when I write about a couple who has weathered the rougher storms of life together. I already know there is no way I will be one who celebrates a golden anniversary.

So here I stand in the middle of my bridge and still looking back over one shoulder and getting glances of the road ahead as well. I know I will soon have to decide which direction to take, I just hope it is the right direction.

Gotta just keep moving

I am ever so grateful that I have a job that allows me to meet fascinating people who invite me into their private world and bless me with the honor of telling one of the many stories that make up a life. With that being said, I have truly missed writing for myself, plunking out the words that whirl around in my brain on a constant basis.

For the last few months I have been trying to adjust to new surroundings, a new schedule and a different way to go about living life. In that time, I have learned that I am better at managing money than I thought I was, I have learned that my kids are highly entertaining and at times emotionally and physically exhausting. I have learned that I have some amazing friends and family and that I have some friends who aren't as good as I thought.

I have also learned that I have a history of repeating mistakes. Rather than the tried and true method of learning through mistakes, I seem to just make them over and over. I have also discovered that I have some deep seeded need to be comforted and feel safe. On this path of discovery I have accepted that I cannot decipher all of this mystery on my own and then figure out how to move forward and perhaps stop the cycle that has plagued me for years.

The good part of this self examination is that I recognize that I need work but I can also see the good in me. I know that I am doing the best I can at raising my children. I know that I have developed a better relationship with my mom and I better understand why she did some of the things she did when I was a child. I know that I am kind and have been blessed with the ability to make people feel at ease.

In the meantime, I will return to having the wonderful opportunity to meet people who add interest to my daily life. I will continue to find ways to grow closer to my boys and take life one step and day at a time.

Friends Through it all

I wrote in my journal this morning and I mean literally wrote-two hard covers with blank pages between and a pen. I refrain from doing so regularly because I type considerably faster than I write and I can keep pace with my thoughts better. Using a laptop borrowed from work and no wifi deems it necessary to go about things the old fashioned way.

I have been struck by multiple things in the last couple of weeks and just wasn't coping very well. First, I have a 12-year-old son teetering on the edge of teenagedom and all the trappings of a changing voice and pimples. He is also having trouble accepting the fact that school starts soon. He is not suffering from the normal end of summer blues, but full blown depression about the coming school year. Math is a very difficult subject for him and I know how difficult it is for him to sit still and focus through an entire hour of class.

Coping with life changes is part of life for a parent, but just when I needed a good friend most, I didn't have one to turn to. I've long befriended boys/men because I'm not a girly girl and I enjoy being rather uncouth at times. So knowing I could not talk to my closest friend was completely heartbreaking. The thing about wanting to contact him was not just about crying about the heartache I'm suffering because of my boy hurting, but I desperately wanted a few hours to forget about the pain. I just wanted to watch a movie or grab a beer but I have been sidelined. It's not just backing away for a while, it is essentially being dumped.

I hold my friends in high esteem and feel they are just part of my larger family. I am a generous friend with my time and gifts. I never go into a friendship wondering what I might get in return for the things I so love to give, but I am also aware that all relationships are two way streets and you stick through it in good times and in bad. I am no fair weather friend and need to learn and accept that some people just are. I hope that I awaken tomorrow morning with a clear vision of who should remain in my life and who might be better a memory.

Good Health: A Precious Commodity

Earlier this evening, I headed out for a run. It's common for me to do so in the late afternoon because it works with my schedule and I seem to be well suited for a run at that time of day. I am often contemplative and the necessity to regulate the rhythm of my breathing, keeps me calm and serene. I don't know whether it is my increased mileage or the speed work I did the day before, but I pushed myself harder and faster than normal. I tried to be aware of my pace because I didn't want to run out of umph too soon.

Technically, I am not fast nor will I ever be but tonight I felt swift and strong. I realize despite my belief that there most certainly had to be flames bursting from the heels of my shoes, I was simply moving along at a faster than normal pace. I still enjoyed the cheering section in my brain as I made my way along the trail. When I had reached mile 2, I felt it. "It" was a burning in my left quad and it was sending pain down to the top of my knee and it hurt like hell. Always looking out for me, Rick cautioned that I not push too hard and risk injury but I wanted to push dammit. I had to stop to allow traffic to speed along M-91 so I rubbed my leg with the hope of alleviating the burn.

I safely crossed the intersection and started along, again at a good clip. Truthfully, the faster my stride, the better my leg felt. It was then I got into my zone. It is at this moment when my lungs and legs work in unison and I can feel the sheer joy of strength flow through my veins. I also can start to do what I love most about running and that was to pray. Before heading out, I read a friend's Facebook status that her friend's child had been diagnosed with leukemia just today. Prayers had been requested and it was all I could do.

My burning leg seemed so petty as did my fretting over finances or fussing about the size of my waist. All of my grumblings over the mundane were deemed immediately moot. Not only did I pray fervently for this sweet child of God to be healed, but that her parents be comforted. I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving for my healthy children and for my own good health that was pushing me along. I thought of the saying, "Well, at least you have your health," often offered to someone who has lost nearly everything. It really takes on a new meaning. How good does food taste if one is unhealthy? How lovely are new clothes when too sick to get dressed?

I have never had the honor of meeting the lovely blue-eyed, blonde child whose cherubic face is now my friend's Facebook cover. I have met her mother once in person, after interviewing her over the phone about exciting painting projects she had undertaken to personalize her daughters' rooms. I thought of how I can guarantee that her mother would switch places with her child in an instant. There is no doubt in my mind that she would be willing to take the burden of undergoing treatment to save her daughter from having to do so.

Before I headed out the front door to hit the trail, I hugged each of my boys tightly, kissed them and told them how very much I love them and that they mean the world to me. It's likely there will be some frustration tomorrow and perhaps a little bickering, but it will not change the fact that I love my children unconditionally and whole heartedly. Please pray for the Town Family of Greenville. Keep little Bree in your prayers for healing and that her parents be comforted and supported while they love their precious girl through this scary time in their lives.

Pondering Spring Break For the Broke and Alone

There is something about spring that makes me antsy, creates an itch I can't quite scratch. Maybe it's all the Facebook posts from friends about their jaunts around the country to celebrate the passage of gloomier days to those brimming with hope and possibility. Perhaps it is all the amazing memories I have amassed from the trips taken in the Smith Family van to Florida, Tennessee, Georgia and Kentucky.

I was blessed as a child to have the opportunity to travel. My parents always managed to find a way to take a vacation or two every year. Nearly every spring, we packed and loaded the van for the southerly trip that often included excursions to amusement parks to appease my dad's affinity for thrilling roller coasters. Hard to believe he will be 81 tomorrow and no longer has the zest to buckle in and laugh with pure joy from the screaming descent on rails. I have taken my boys just one time to Michigan's Adventure and Sammy was only two at the time.

Every year this time, I have to fight with the overwhelming urge to pack up and take off-destination unknown. I have a history of fleeing and I have yet to outgrow it. It is with this urgency that I face a weekend all by myself for the first time in years next week. I have been planning itineraries in my head, wishing I had the means to make a small dream into a reality. It is not lofty dreams. I am not contemplating a flight to Tuscany to drink in the wine and views. I have considered staying somewhere along the lake shore. I have lamented no longer being able to visit Grandpa Casler in his little house and watch thunderstorms roll in over the lake. Maybe a drive over "The Bridge" and visit my old stomping grounds. I know I need to do it alone, get comfortable with me.

I just know that like every breathing person on this planet, my future is uncertain but right now it is terrifying and I feel on the precipice of failure. I have been calculating expenses in my head and trying to figure out how to provide everything for my children and still have room for much needed fun. I long to feel joy in my heart and know that we are going to be just fine. I desire the contentment of restful sleep, hitting the pillow knowing I have done a good job. It's frustrating that everything comes down to a bank account. I don't mean a padded account either. I simply want the assurance of knowing the lights will remain on, there will be a roof overhead, food on the table and shoes on our feet.

Gratification for me does not come from self enjoyment but in knowing that I am able to make a positive difference. It is the smile on a person's face that gives me joy. I still want to know what it is I want to be when I grow up. At the very least I know I want to be involved with something life changing, something that would make God proud.

Living with Adult ADHD

I don't why I have become so introspective as of late. I have run the full gamut of emotions in less than 24 hours and frankly, I am exhausted.

I began reading, "The ADHD Effect on Marriage. Understanding and Rebuild Your Relationship in Six Steps." by Melissa Orlov. It has been an heartbreaking, eye opening experience. I purchased this book because I am fairly certain that I am ADHD and I am determined to have a successful relationship that lasts forever.

I am living through the break up of another marriage and it has taken a huge toll on me both physically and certainly mentally. Xander's biological father is ADHD and I was always convinced that Xander suffered the same fate because of that genetic link, but imagine my dismay when Sammy was diagnosed as well. Speaking with my boys' teachers and watching the boys' reactions and behaviors is like taking a step into the recesses of my brain.

Both boys have been frustrated and sulked that they didn't have any friends. I remember the same lament being spoken from my boisterous mouth. They have both blurted hurtful words to only cry within seconds because of regret. I still suffer the consequences of my quick tongue. I also recognize the intelligence they possess and creativity, sometimes an inexplicable understanding of complex issues.

People who are ADHD are often very intelligent but struggle with success. They are saddled with insecurity and self-doubt. They live in cluttered spaces, but are overwhelmed with the mess. The boys and I can easily forget something we heard or spoke 5 minutes previous, but can recall the sights, sounds and smells of a trip made at age 3.

Reading this particular book has made me reflective of decisions I have made that felt so right in the moment, but eventually had long and far reaching consequences. My choices have hurt several people, ended friendships and strained the most basic familial relationships. Despite being above average in intelligence, I struggled to complete my bachelor's degree and have drifted aimlessly toward a career. Even as I entered college, I was an "undetermined major" due to my inability to focus on a career choice. I changed majors, dropped courses and even dropped out of school for a semester.

My college graduation date of December 9, 1995 was only partially accurate because I failed to complete the required math credits. I waited to enroll in a community college during the summer so I could finally have my diploma mailed. I gave up on the dream of entering law school, being a teacher and studying abroad because it wasn't fulfilling right at the moment-I didn't have the patience to await the reward.

Along with being insecure, I constantly compare myself to others. I never think I am thin enough, smart enough, successful enough, good enough, funny enough, attractive enough and on and on and on. This unfounded comparison to others is not only self-defeating but dangerous.

When I met Robert, I was broken, lonely and vulnerable; a recipe for disaster. Having finally left Oregon, I was determined to live with my parents, return to school and make the best possible life for Xander and I. The furthest thought from my mind was getting involved with a man. A childhood friend called and asked that meet a friend of she and her husband, I was resistant but not enough. I was charmed by his looks, shyness and mutual vulnerability. He was a single dad whose wife had kicked him out of their house because of the affair she was having with his brother-in-law. I soon learned he was NOT divorced and that he was still in love with her.

Why oh why didn't I see the huge red banner? This was not a flag, but a banner large enough to cover a house. Instead of turning tail and running like hell, I was determined to be a better woman. I was going to show him that not all women are content with staying home and spending their husband's money while he worked two jobs. I was smart, shoot I had the degree and everything to prove it. I could be a bread winner and sexy at the same time.

His family seemed to shocked when they met me. Well, duh, they knew he still loved his wife and hoped they would reconcile. They didn't know about the affair their son and daughter-in-law were having. How could someone so smart be so stupid? Good question.

Nine years later and Robert still submits to his ex-wife. As long as I stay with him, I will continue to be bitter and resentful. My boys and I will continue to come in second place to the first family. Xander and I will still be treated somewhat courteously, but always outsiders.

Armed with this understanding, I am researching experts in my area on diagnosing and treating adults with ADHD. I am determined to stop this cycle of self-harm and deprecation. I am determined to be successful and be able to recognize this success in all aspects of my life; career, mother and partner.

I have met someone who seems to better understand the quirks that make me uniquely me and now I need to better understand it about myself and turn that into a positive. Looking back at my remark about stating that those with ADHD seem to be able to inexplicably understand complex issues I think of a conversation with my soon-to-be 12 year old son, Xander. I said, "I'm sorry if I have been sad, but I think Mama has ADHD," and Xander simply but emphatically replied, "You DO!"

What A Walk Can Do

It's amazing what crisp air, relative quiet and taking a walk will do for the creative regions of the brain.

I decided to take my dog, Charlie, for a brisk walk and hopefully tire him so he didn't whine incessantly to go outside for a mere five minutes then whine to bet let back inside. This goes on and on throughout the day, much like toddlers enjoy the game of "dropsie".

The purpose of my walk was not completely selfless. It was a means for me to forget about the horrible week I have had. My flawless work record suffered a black eye Tuesday when I was reprimanded for going above and beyond for the sake of a customer. I know, I'm a jerk. The entire meeting was a total convergence of whipping post, humiliation and undeserved anger. It was so pleasant, I temporarily regressed to the weak and defenseless abused woman I was so many years ago.

The second fun event of this week was learning that I will not have a nickle to spend of a federal tax refund. My soon to be ex-husband's ex-wife is getting more than half and the other portion will pay the mortgage that fell behind several months. There goes my dreams of a laptop and attending my nephew's wedding.

On the cusp of the weekend I am trying to stay sure footed and look ahead. I take walks so I can make mental lists and calm down. I also needed to get some form of exercise since the evening's tax preparation cut into my weekly yoga class.

Back to the walk. I was approximately half a mile east of the house and started to walk north when very suddenly a deep and guttural growl emerged from the depths of Charlie's chest. His hackles were up and he was defensive and scared. He looked like he was readying himself to tear into his mortal enemy. I have never seen my dog react so strongly and look so threatening. I trust my dog. I often think animals are better judges of character than people. Animals aren't deceived by lovely clothes, titles or desired addresses. Dogs rely on their basic instincts. They sense fear or anger or a threat. I crossed the street and Charlie continued to glare at the house until were far enough past.

What did he see? What was he hearing? What was it that I could not sense? I was trusting my dog's basic instinct to remove us from whatever unseen threat he was feeling. Could it be the heavy and sometimes oppressive darkness that seems omnipresent as of late? Whatever it was, it sent chills throughout my body.

I am back in the warmth of the house. The dog is lying quietly in his bed and yet I can't shake the feeling that we avoided something potentially dangerous and harmful. I am also reflective on my need to be positive, move forward and be thankful.

Taking Inventory

I have decided that I am having a midlife crisis. I turn 40 this year and it seems like I have been spending a great deal of time taking inventory of my life and feeling unfulfilled. I regret not applying myself more in college and finding out what I really wanted as my vocation. I watch "House Hunters International" and bemoan the fact that I never studied abroad when I was in college and fully immersed myself in another culture and its language.

With this in mind, I have decided to try and do and accomplish some of the things I put on the back burner. I am going to look into renewing my understanding of Spanish. I am also not going to sit around and wait for the right moment to go see a baseball game or attend a concert. I will take the boys on a trip this summer and allow them to be silly and carefree; to be kids. Taking dance lessons with my love is on the list as well. My biggest ambition is to save the funds to travel to Europe.

I was a camp counselor for an exclusive all girls camp in the summer of 1993 and formed a great friendship with Alison, a Brit I have affectionately deemed "limey". She returned to The States the summer of 1994 and I took her around my stomping grounds. That was the last time we saw one another. She has made it perfectly clear that I am welcome to stay with her if and when I get the means to simply board the plane and travel across the pond.

The problem with the goals I have set is that they involve money. I only dreamed of being wealthy when I was a child and thought there was great importance in accumulating wealth. I no longer have that desire, but I also acknowledge that my part-time, meager paying job is not up to snuff to fund any of my desired adventures. This is where the backward glance and forward hope has me completely frustrated with my present situation.

Every summer I have told the boys that I want to take them fun places and experience adventures with them and every summer I fall short. Rather than dwelling in the frustration, I need it to transform into motivation and determination to make dreams become reality. For the most part, my dreams are simple and attainable but my mind often tries desperately to grasp the entire picture and it leaves me overwhelmed.  I'm slowly learning that I need to break the big picture into smaller pictures. I have started this learning process when it comes to running longer distances, now I need to apply it to every aspect of my life.

So I start this day with the intention of moving forward and only gleaning from the backward glances for the purposes of wisdom.

BFF....

This past weekend I spent some time with my best friend who is pictured with me in my profile photo (I have short hair). I have been spending more time with her in the last few months because we are both going through some life situations that are best shelved when we can laugh about some of the more ridiculous decisions we have made. We often relax on the couch and enjoy watching, "House Hunters International" or as I have come to call it, "Let's Get Depressed And Regret The Choices We Have Made" show.

This past Saturday was a bit different than most of our visits. We usually have all of our boys so we do things around the house like drinking a beer while watching football or hockey games. However, we were childless on Saturday night and Christine made plans for us to see a local band. She told me that it was a ladies' night out and she had invited a friend she had met through a school event. I was fine with the plans but then once her friend arrived she mentioned that we would be picking up another woman and that woman had invited one of her friends.

Stop. Hit the brakes. Halt. Did you read the previous lines that Christine and I often watched sporting events while drinking a beer? Yes, I wrote that. I am a tomboy-always have been and always will be and it was a blessing that I had boys. I am not a prissy girl. I do NOT enjoy shopping and I have never had a manicure. I'm pretty certain I was panicked that I did not have an epi pen in my purse for fear of the anaphylaxis I was certain to suffer from all the estrogen. Another thing about me that is certainly not dainty is my appetite. I am an eater. I am not a, "Oh, I'll just have a salad," kind of girl. Bring me a platter full of food and keep your hands close at your sides. Why do I mention this? Because we arrived at the bar and I said, "Hey, I'm hungry. Is anyone going to eat? I am ." Of course they weren't hungry.

Drinks and my dinner is served and the friend of the friend of the friend removes her jacket to reveal artificially tanned breasts bursting out of her shirt. I was certain I was going to find colostrum in my drink. I do not have issues with women looking sexy and enjoying themselves but this evening quickly turned into a bad regurgitated version of "Sex In The City" and I didn't have a boyfriend named Mr. Big or a separate closet for expensive shoes. A group of divorced women just seemed far too cliche and I was wallowing in misery.

Where was my friend, Christine? Christine the girl who can make me laugh about the most mundane and everyday things. She was complimenting the shirt bursting girl and dancing to the band I was supposed to be enjoying. What was I doing? I was watching the Detroit Red Wings instead. I had no interest in displaying any of my physical attributes, no matter how big or small. I had grown tired of hearing these women complain about their ex-husbands and then discuss how large some guy's junk was.

If I am girly in any part of my life, it is my love of romance. I am in love with an amazing man, who like me, enjoys discussing books, sports, travel and simply being ridiculous. Saturday night was a scary glimpse into what life could be for me if I don't cherish the love I have been blessed to share. Despite having survived an abusive marriage, I do not nor will I ever, hate men. It was the behavior I witnessed that made me dislike my own gender. It also saddened me. It saddened me that I did not enjoy my time with Christine because she had the best of intentions, but I was too far out of my element. But again, it provided me with an eye-opening experience. These women lamented their past relationships but they also rejoiced being away from their children while I was deeply missing mine.

Christine will continue to be my bestfriend (unless she reads this) but maybe next time, I will make the plans.