I won’t quit but I’ll cuss the whole time

People have asked me what I’m doing for my 40th. Am I having a big party, going out drinking, am I doing some wild and crazy?

The answer to all of those is no, no, and no.

I am having a small party of good friends with yummy food and cake. Large crowds of lots of people overwhelm me and wear me out. I prefer to have lots of smaller get togethers with a few people so I can really talk with them and catch up, as it may be. And besides, it usually means getting together over food- score for me!

I’m also doing something unusual. I gave up coloring my hair. It’s expensive and time consuming, and I am just done with it. I don’t want to have brittle, bleached-out, brassy hair when I’m 70. I will be embracing the gray as it comes in and celebrate that I made it this far in life to have earned gray hair.

I’m also embracing me. Who I am, what I believe, where I am in the journey of life. My life may not be where I had planned when I was 20 and clueless, but I am where I need to be, doing what I need to be doing. And that is ok with me.

I am embracing my mental health. I am saying no when I don’t want to do something and I am not apologizing for it. I am no longer allowing toxic people into my space. I am making myself a priority.

Along with that, I am focusing on being kinder to myself. If I said some of the things to other people that I have said to myself, I most likely would have been punched by now, at the very least. So I am embracing all of me, the stretch marks, the cellulite, the little black chin hairs. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still pluck those little bastards the second I see them, but I won’t hate myself because of them.

So that is what I will be doing my my 40th. Maybe it is kinda wild and crazy after all.

The end of 2019 was rough. I lost a job that I enjoyed, with people that were nice, decent pay, and great benefits. I had to go back into the job market and thusly, on unemployment benefits. It sucked. I had some interesting offers, some outrageous ideas, and some ass-clenching moments when I looked at the bank balance when faced with unexpected bills and car repairs.

I fell into a depression, and one that went on for a while. When the money wasn’t coming in, some things had to give. And one was the gym. And with that, went the the benefits. I gained some weight back- ok, most of what I had lost. Also, the mental health benefits. I went into a dark place. It was rough. I was questioning my self worth, my value to my family, and my place in this world. And I silenced my negative inner voice and self doubt with food, something I had done in the past. And it wasn’t good for me, I knew this, but yet I continued.

Thankfully, we were able to keep the roof over our head and food in our bellies due to the grace of God and some amazing supportive family. We’re still cooking and meal-prepping for the weeks and limiting the eating out.

And I’m inspired to write again. It has been a while. When I’m down, and I mean really, really down, it is hard to do daily life activities, let alone write about it. Seriously, taking a shower became an impossible task for me on some days. Cleaning the house, emptying the dishwasher, and putting away the laundry away were things that just took everything out of me. And then there was the joy of applying for jobs, doing phone interviews, in-person interviews, and trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to do in this world.

For now, I’m employed at a place where I am learning a lot, working with good people, and have a very short commute. And I’m actually hopeful for the future, something which I have not been for a long while. So there’s that.

It is one day at a time. And that is good anough for me now.

I’ve been quiet on social media lately. For those of you who know me pretty well, that’s unusual. Sure, I may share the occasional link and funny photo, but usually I’m writing on my blog pretty regularly (or making a conscious effort to). Well, I’ve been hit by the depression monster.

And it fucking sucks.

Since injuring my knee in mid April, I really haven’t been able to go to the gym. And because of not going to the gym, I haven’t been eating well. I don’t understand that connection either, but it works in my mind. The mind of depression is a messed up thing, lemme tell you.

So, with an evil combination of not working out and not eating right, I got down. And with the recent suicides of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain, I decided to write about it. It is still pretty taboo to tell people you suffer from depression and anxiety. For those of you who do deal with it, you know we have coping mechanisms. At work, I’m consistently upbeat, positive, and seemingly happy. Those people don’t hear the inner demons in my head that are full of self-doubt and negativity. The two celebrities that committed suicide put faith in those voices and let them control them. It can be hard not to.

The decision to not give into those demons is hard. It is so fucking hard. Of course, when I’m working out and eating well it’s easier, at least for me. The demons are not as loud and they’re easier to silence. Apparently, it has something to do with brain chemicals and receptors, but I’m really not all that science-y.

I do get it, especially after these few weeks of inactivity and not the best eating choices. I’ve been in a slump. I’m digging out of it, slowly, and it’s a hard process. Fucking hard process. I have to make the decision to go out of the house, to keep the plans I’ve made, to go to the retirement party and the bridal shower. I have to make the decision to cook the food I bought for meal prep for this week instead of taking a nap because all I want to do is hide.

It’s really hard. Some of my friends who know me and know my habits have reached out to me due to recent events of mental illness being on the forefront of social media. I’m grateful for them. It’s hard to admit that you’re in a depression. I am great at making excuses and denying the fact that I am down.

For those of you who have friends who deal with depression or you may not know that they deal with depression but have been kind of quiet or solitary or canceling plans lately, reach out. What’s the worst that could happen? You may have a conversation with a friend. Or you may save a life.

I’m thankful for my support system, my amazing husband who is by my side always and knows my symptoms and knows my excuses and helps me deal every day with these demons. Not everybody is fortunate enough to have a support system. The support system may be you and you don’t even know it. Reach out. Help a friend.

Yesterday, I was supposed to run the Tough Mudder outside of Austin, Texas. John and I were going to fly in on Saturday, pick up the rental car, head to hotel in Bastrop, and eat a great dinner. Then do the mudder on Sunday, eat another awesome dinner that night, breakfast in Austin with friends on Monday, then fly home. We had the hotel, the tickets, the car, the pet sitter. We were ready to go.

My body had other plans.

I have high blood pressure, due in part to genetics and in part to just being fat. I take meds for this. The one that has been working is a diuretic. Previous meds caused coughing, feet swelling, and hives. This one seemed to work.

On Monday, I had to go into work early to help with an event. I was feeling kind of tired after work, so I came home and took a nap. I woke up, ate some dinner, then went back to bed because I had to go back to work early again. On Tuesday, after being at work for a longer time, I came home and just wasn’t feeling good. I had some pain in my back over my kidneys. I thought, I hoped, it would go away. It didn’t. I was feeling kind of nauseous, so I had John pick up some saltines and Gatorade, the ultimate sick food. I ate some, and then very quickly threw it up. Something was not right.

The pain over my kidneys was not going away. Due to recent events with John’s health, my first thought was kidney stones. As much as I hated to go, I knew I had to go to the hospital. Thankfully we have a great Medical Center 5 minutes from the house. John took me there and all during the wait in the emergency room I wanted to go home. John, being the wonderful husband that he is, wouldn’t let me. Got into a room and of course the first thing they do is stick me with needles.

So many needles. I was so dehydrated it took 2 tries to get the IV line in. Then they ran some blood work. It came back quickly and it turns out my electrolytes were very, very, low. So low I was in the severe range, looking at possibly heart issues and lung problems. Also, electrolytes cannot be given quickly, because if they are, one of the side effects could be death. So, looks like I was in the hospital for the immediate future.

And no tough mudder. And no idea what was going on with knee (still) because I missed that doctor’s appointment due to being in the hospital.

I was there for two days and had great care. I’m not so much a fan of getting woken up at 3 AM for blood work, but I did go back to sleep. The fluids were working, as the results were looking good.

But the Tough mudder in 2 days? Not gonna happen. Not even a chance now.

I got released late Thursday afternoon. I went home, took a shower, ate, and went to bed. Friday was more doctor’s appointments to follow up.

This weekend, I rested, saw some family and friends, and relaxed. But a small part of me was on that course in Texas.

I listened to my body and I knew something was wrong. I may not have known what was wrong, but I listened. And most importantly, I spoke up. I am glad I did.

It would not have been wise to do the race, but it doesn’t mean that I still didn’t want to do it. And I know the Mudder will be there next year. And so will I.

I’m going to share something a little off topic of weight loss, CrossFit, and food. This is about my former career. I used to be a teacher. A junior high English teacher, to be exact.

Yes I will judge you on your grammar. Just saying.

With all of the excitement going on in the country about educators wanting a livable wage, I decided to speak up. They deserve it. I left the classroom four years ago after teaching 13 years. During these 13 years, I probably spent more than $20,000 on classroom supplies. Supplies that include things like Kleenex, crayons, and copy paper. I hardly had time to sleep let alone go to the gym, eat right, or even cook. My depression and anxiety were out of control. I hardly saw my husband. It was a tough time.

I left four years ago. Now granted, there are things I do miss about the classroom but many, many, many things I do not. I now work for a large corporation, but one that is privately owned. In this company, I feel respected and appreciated. I never want for supplies! This is an entirely new experience for me! If we run out of Kleenex, there is no drive from the employees to bring in tissues. A supply order is put in and poof! Three days later, it shows up. If I need a pen, I walk over to the supply cabinet and get one. Same with copy paper, Post-it notes, and notepads. I also get paid more working less hours then I did with teaching. I also have better benefits and pay less for them. Moreover, my quality of life is a million times better than when I was teaching. There are no nights and weekends lost to grading papers or school activities. I have time to go to the gym, cook healthy, and actually eat a healthy lunch while sitting down! This is an incredible experience and I am so very grateful that I was able to find this job outside of teaching.

My heart goes out to all of the teachers who are protesting and leaving the job that they are passionate about because they can’t afford it anymore. And to the legislature, beware of those who have nothing to lose. For they are the ones who have the most to gain.

I have not weighed myself since March. Partly because I’ve been working on my relationship with the scale and partly because I plain ass forgot.

Just the other day, I saw that I have been using MFP for 100 days. Consistently.

That blew me away. I’m down 30 pounds. I feel better. I’m actually enjoying the gym and yoga and walking (when I can do it, that is).

My allergies are better as is my asthma. My blood sugar is more under control, and my blood pressure meds have been reduced. My depression and anxiety are better in control.

So many changes. Good changes. I’m planning on doing MFP for at least another day. That’s as far as I can plan!

I’ve been upping my training lately. We changed gyms to one that’s a mile from the house so we can go in the morning and eliminate our excuses. That way, our evenings are free to go to yoga twice a week. On the off crossfit mornings, we have been doing the Couch to 10K app, involving walking and running.

Apparently, my knees do not like running.

It started about a week ago. Slight pain in my right knee, not being able to squat past parallel, not being able to put my full weight on my leg.

Then it started hurting all the time. I was limping. So I made an appointment with my doctor, thinking I’d get a steroid pack and be ok.

Wrong. So very very wrong.

The doc took one look at my knee and referred me to a sports medicine specialist. As soon as possible. Because I have the Tough Mudder in Texas in two weeks.

For now, I’m grounded. No physical activity that will put strain on my knee because it might injure it further. I’m wearing a brace. And I didn’t even get any steroids!

I’m now awaiting the phone call getting me an appointment as soon as possible. And I’m trying not to eat my feelings.

Had a moment of panic the other day. Felt two protruding hard nodules at the bottom of my neck. After freaking out and consulting Dr. Google, I realized that these bony protrusions were my clavicles.

WTF? I have clavicles?

Huh.

I’ve been noticing other things too.

Like I’m wearing scarves around my neck.

And when I do that, I don’t have as many chins- only double instead of triple (fine, quadruple).

Huh.

My shoulders and arms are more defined.

I had to move my belt over a loop.

My jeans are fitting looser.

Huh.

This is exciting shit.

Continuing with my goal of doing 50 Tough Mudders by the age of 50, I signed up for the next one in Arizona as soon as I could. I chose the Sunday event, the full 10 miles, and thankfully got an early start time. My husband and another couple were joining me, and I was so excited the week prior it was all I could talk about.

Until that Thursday I slipped in my own damn kitchen and hit my head.

No broken bones or concussion, thank goodness! But also, no obstacles that would put my head at risk until I was cleared by my general practitioner according to the Emergency Room Doctor. Yeesh.

It was that Sunday morning on the way to the course I made a decision to walk the full course and cheer my team on as they conquer the obstacles. I wouldn’t do any, as hard as that choice was to make.

I stuck to it. I finished the course without doing any obstacles, as much as I wanted to. I still received my headband and will add this event to my total count towards 50.

But I was overall disappointed in the event, which made me sad. I love the Tough Mudder, how it is supposed to hard, the obstacles scary and challenging. This course was missing a lot of the level of difficulty I saw last year. I’m hoping things will change next year for Arizona and in May when I’m traveling to Texas to meet my goal. I’ll keep you posted!

You can do it! It was after a gym session when a friend of ours, Amy S., suggested we could do something called a Tough Mudder. I had no idea of what that was. When she explained it as a ten-mile obstacle course involving mud, ice water, and electrocution, I noped my way out of that conversation real quick. And yet she persisted. Her argument was that I had done a 10K earlier in the year so of course I could do this. I worked out hard in the gym and was getting stronger, it would be easy! Just check it out was her plea.

I did. Still nope.

But then a small part of me began to wonder if I really could do it. And that small part grew larger and larger until I found myself in the starting corral of my first Tough Mudder on April 9, 2017.

After the event, which I did all 10 miles of…

All. 10. Miles.

…I had waded through chest deep mud, gone down a slide into a pool filled with ice water, and been electrocuted while running through mud and over hay bales. It was ten miles of obstacles, mud, awesome people, mud, ice water, and more mud. At the finish line, I was sitting in mud, laughing and crying. I was sunburned, muddy, sore, and exhausted. I was exhilarated. I was invincible.

And I couldn’t wait to do it again.

Shortly after that momentous day, I made a decision. I loved the culture of the Mudder, the obstacles, the “this is not a race but a challenge” and the teamwork spirit. It was an awesome feeling when I looked at one of the obstacles, talked myself out of trying it, did it anyway, and felt so powerful.

I made an outrageous goal to do something so unexpected and completely out of my comfort zone that there was a small part of me that was doubtful it would happen.

I am going to complete 50 Tough Mudders by the time I turn 50 in 2029.

May God help me!