Author: kidtrish

I am a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an Enigma. Good Luck ;)

TEN

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On a scale of one to ten please rate your pain today. The little smiley/sad faces on the chart at the doctor’s office are there to help you express how you are feeling. You have the oil changed at your local car dealership or lube shop and they want you to fill out a survey. On a scale of one to ten  with one being the lowest score how would you rate your visit today? Were you satisfied, somewhat satisfied, depressed, ecstatic or just plain giddy? Questions, questions, questions. How am I ? I feel wonderful, alive and at peace. I am in a good place right now. I plan on enjoying this journey back to me. I am learning to live my life again. I am making better choices. I feel like I have new avenues to explore and adventures to take part in. I am watching my confidence bloom into an amazing bundle of hope. With hope anything is possible.

I had a great week. I guess I had my first real “feel good” non scale victory. I logged all of my food and all of my sins. I chose more than once not to take the easy way out by grabbing a fast snack. I am planning out more of my meals. I have returned to the all important making of shopping lists. I am reading my labels with better understanding. I am scanning labels I am unsure of and making educated purchases. Damn, it feels good. All it took was a glimmer of self belief. You really can start a fire with a spark.

I love getting up early on Saturday mornings to go to my meeting. I have promised myself to go and to stay for my meeting each week. So far so good  =  ) I have challenged myself to join water aerobics and buy a waterproof fitness band. I am trying to move more.

On a scale of one to ten? Yes, I am a TEN and not just two fives in the wrong place.

Never give up on the person you are meant to be.

Where Does It Come From?

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Inspiration for a blog post comes from many things around me. Little things that everyday people miss everyday. The smile on a little girl’s face when she looks up at the man she calls Daddy, the homeless man on the street holding his sign pleading for 2, the school kids heading home from class on a beautiful day, a small child crying seemingly unhappy at not being understood. I see. I have trouble not thinking about all of the things I see. The world is not a safe or friendly place. My mother often struggled with everyday things.  She struggled keeping the house clean, food in the fridge, clean clothes in our dressers. She suffered the whole of her life from mental illness. I often felt growing up that we were teetering on the edge and the slightest upset in its delicate balance would spell ruin for our family.  My darkest fear is to be homeless.

The other day on my way home from a doctor appointment I saw her. A young woman with a cardboard sign on the side of the road. She could have been my niece. She was young, pretty, her clothes clean.  She looked out of place, she looked cold. She made me sad. I admit to you that I didn’t roll down my window. I am not sure handing someone a dollar through the crack of my window could change the course her life is on. It did however put a bump into my world. I can’t shake what I see. What I keep seeing. Where has the kindness in the world gone? the trust? the hope? the love?

I do not know this girl’s story. I am not sure if I asked her that it would be a truth filled tale. She may have fallen on hard times, lost her job, or her way, or tripped out on drugs and still hasn’t made it back to the “real” world. All I know is that every time I see someone on the street holding an overused cardboard sign my soul cracks just a little more. My heart gets a little heavier, tears manages its way down my cheek. Life is a precious gift that people throw away. When will we learn? Will we ever learn?

Kathy’s Song

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She was there. My Pops had just been transferred from the hospital to enter the uncertain life as a nursing home resident. In the short span of his first week he was busted from the fifth floor to the fourth because he needed additional looking after. Which I learned really meant that my dad in his confusion would sometimes enter other patients rooms and well, wreak havoc. He didn’t mean any harm but nonetheless disturbances of any kind can have a very negative effect on the frail and/ or elderly who are just trying to have a little peace in their lives. I wasn’t happy the staff wanted to move my Pops but I understood so with minimal crabbing from me I helped the CNA move my dad to his new digs.  She was there.

Our first meeting is difficult for me to recall, not because I have memory issues but more from the level of stress I hadn’t yet sorted out. Everything that was happening to Dad and I still hadn’t sunken into my thought process. I was feeling so overwhelmed and beaten. I felt numb. She was there. Her name is Kathy. Her hubby was one of the residents at my Dad’s new “home”. She was friendly and talkative. I felt comfortable in her presence from that first moment. She showed me around the fourth floor and gave me a few pointers about the staff, the meal times, how to control the heat in Dad’s room, where to find extra linens. By reaching out to me she changed that moment of fear for me. I relaxed a little and I felt a wave of relief I was sure was never going to come.

I am sure she has no idea how much that day changed me. It changed the way I view my Dad’s living situation. It changed the way I am towards other people who have loved ones suffering from illnesses and dementia. Even though each of our battles are unique to us we are all in the same war; fighting to give our loved one the best “rest of their lives”.  My Pops was only at his first nursing home for two weeks when a bed became available closer to my home in a better environment. I jumped at the opportunity. I am not sorry that I moved Pops. We are both happier and healthier now. Kathy’s hubby has moved as well into a better living arrangement. I couldn’t be happier for them both.

Kathy and I keep in touch as much as possible, gotta love the interwebs, and today we went to lunch. I had a wonderful time. Thank you Kathy for being the light of hope I needed so badly that day. Never forget that one person can change the world. Never underestimate what you mean to someone else.

Love,

Trish  =  )

Down and UP?

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It started out with a touch of discomfort. My throat was dry and scratchy, my ears itchy, my eyes weepy; I thought to myself, “wonderful ! my Spring allergies have decided to rear their ugly head, ERGH !”  I was determined though. I had just left my morning WWs meeting feeling UP.  Today I had plans and no amount of impending allergies was going to keep me DOWN. I felt it was time to take the plunge and say good bye to my double digit underpants. I was treating myself to some well deserved new SMALLER undies.

No one likes to talk about under garments. The conversation gets smaller the larger you are. Pun intended. No girl I know wants to talk about their size or that they may have to specialty shop for foundation things. Well, I am here to change that. I was brave enough to face myself at the scale now I need to learn to have faith in the power of me and try on new clothes. I am not going to lie to you. I was nervous. I hate any kind of clothes shopping but I’ve made a promise to be better to myself. I am happy to report that after nearly an hour of self-doubt, with an ever rising anxiety level; I made my selection of not one but two packs of brand new smaller DIVA approved undies. I am worth it.  =  )   I have lost enough weight that I have moved DOWN the size scale.

Yes, they fit; and better than I thought they would, too!  Yeah ME ! Atta Girl !

My allergies turned into a full blown Spring cold. I had fever, chills,and a general feeling of despair paired with the worst case of self-pity I have ever had, but I got over my bad self. I want this. I tracked all week. I planned the best I could. I tried very hard to keep my head in the game. I did it.

Never give up on the person you are meant to be.

 

ATE

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As I sit to write this I realize that this is my eighth week on program. The time seems to have flown by. I am amazed by how much more alert, happy and full of energy I am. Don’t get me wrong I have struggled. Some days I struggle to hold it together all day long. I am not good at dealing with anger in a positive way. I have spent most of my life avoiding the emotional repercussions of anger.  The more I try NOT to own a disappointment the larger that dress(anger is just disappointment in an ugly dress) becomes both emotionally and physically. The more effort I put into avoiding how I feel the more likely I am to calm those raw feelings with food.

I have been trying to choose better ways to deal with the things that cause me to get aggravated, frustrated, put out and worn down. I blog. I go for a walk. I call my bestie. I plan out summer field trips and adventures. I window shop for smaller clothing. Odd how a little honesty goes a long way. Some times I manage to talk myself out from under a bad mood or a bad day, sometimes not. What I’m learning is it is okay to get angry as long as I don’t allow that anger  to control how I treat myself or other people.

I am beginning to notice my size is changing for the smaller. It is a wonderful, joyous feeling to put on a piece of clothing and realize it fits better. I actually have a little more moving around room. My shirts are getting longer in length as there is less of me to cover. I missed that feeling of accomplishment. It is a nice change to shout “Atta girl” out loud in my mind instead of the dark mutterings I used to actually listen too. Never give up on the person you are meant to be. You got this! Atta Girl!

Success?

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A WW leader once said to me that without try….there would be no triumph. I am trying to put a little more umph into my try.  Last week I maintained at the scale. Still a victory, though at the time it felt hollow. Like when you are voted club president and there are only three of you; hollow. I went home a little down but I have not given up. I have been thinking.

What is success? I know what it reads in the dictionary. I define success as working towards a desired goal. I am the goal, not my weight. I want to be the best example of myself. When I smile I want it to be real not painted on to make someone else happy. I want to feel like I have done the best for me. I measure my successes with the small things. My bath towel goes a  little further around my middle, no more of my kibbles and bits sneaking out. My clothes are beginning to feel less snug all around. I have more energy. My level of self belief has grown. I am excited about what is next on this journey.

I had lost faith in the power of me. It has been a long road back to finding that little girl that lives in my soul. She is the light in the tunnel of my mind, my guide through the rough patches. She carries the truths of who I am. She holds onto my hopes, my joy and the wonderment of being alive that sometimes gets lost amongst the chaos of being a grown up. She keeps the best things about me safe for when I remember I deserve to be happy; that I am worthy of success.

What is success? Never giving up on the person you are meant to be.

 

The Grand Life

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It is in the small things. The truly important things in life are in the small things. Just think about it for a minute. A smile from a passing stranger. Laughter amongst friends.  Sunshine on an overcast day. A butterfly in flight. Life is grand. I forget that sometimes. I forget that it takes work to be content. I forget to be in the moment.

I am trying to be better about the small things. I recently went back to WWs after a long (devil may care attitude that nearly cost me all I had worked so hard to accomplish) hiatus. It has been a struggle to get back into the swing of things but I can honestly say I am feeling much like my old happy self again. My heartburn is gone. My energy level is up and…my underpants are loose. Score one for me!!!

I like to think of my weight loss journey as a wall I am tearing down one stone at a time.  I built my wall (ME) on bad choices, broken promises, resentments and tears.  Life has a way of beating my best intentions out of me. True success begins with a little hope, forgiveness, some elbow grease and a belief in the power of self. It takes courage to change course and step away from the things that are not healthy but I am worth it. Aren’t you?

Today Was NOT That Day

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That day when you are the most uncertain about an important outcome, that day you wish would never come to fruition, that day, that one day you dread the most…  but today we were smiled upon, we were spared. As anyone who reads my blog knows I have a parent with dementia. He is my Dad; my hero, the man I love more than words can ever put a spin on. Our journey with his illness has not been easy. He and I have done this largely on our own. We have tried to always face it with laughter, love, and the occasional spat. I always have his back just like he has always had mine. Dad thinks he lives in his home town. He doesn’t know what day of the week it is. He doesn’t know current events, or what he last ate; and that is all ok with me. He knows who I AM, so to me he knows everything he needs to know and I see to the rest of it.

I have been there to see my Dad lose a child, lose his wife, lose his way to this terrible disease but never once did I fear that I would lose him, until today. For the first time in a long time I looked at my Dad as an elderly gentleman who had lived better days. I am Dad’s link to the outside world. I make it my duty to take him to all of his appointments outside of his nursing home. I am the keeper of his history. I am his advocate, his voice. I try to do my best to do what’s best for him.

Today Pops had to go to the local hospital for a procedure for some swallowing issues he has been having. Numerous questions regarding his health were directed towards me. I provided the answers they were seeking as best as I could. IVs were started. Charts were checked. I helped Pops put on his hospital gown and hairnet (he looked like an ugly lunch lady).  As the medical team rolled him away to his procedure I found myself fighting a wave of panic; the light of realization going on in my head that Pops is not immortal. Fearful thoughts raced through my head and I found myself fighting back tears.

I would like to tell you that I rallied quickly, banished those thoughts and moved on; but, that would be a lie. Instead I nervously picked my way along the hallway to a cafeteria, bought a banana, sang a chorus of Chances Are to a cashier, caught my breath and my composure. I found a bench to sit at to wait for the nurses to call me when Dad hit the Recovery Room. I managed to make it through the banana and a yogurt parfait( I went back for that) and was just purchasing a coffee when my phone rang. Seeing the number on my cell gave me a start but it was a call I had to answer. I was relieved to hear from the surgeon that things had gone well. My dad tolerated the procedure ok and he would be going to recovery soon    =  )

Live for the people in your life. Love with all of your being. No regrets. Be in the moment, make a memory. People often say to me that Dad is lucky to have me but I think I am the lucky one.

 

March On

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As February is preparing to make its exit into March, I am taking a few moments to think about the good things I managed to do for myself. Instead of wallowing in the sorrow I allow to consume me every year on Brenda’s birthday, I went back to WWs. I wanted to do something positive for myself on her day. Put a different twist on the day. I made a commitment to myself. Live for the day you awake to. Do the best you can with the moment you are in. Be kinder to yourself. Everyone makes bad choices but one bad rock does not spoil a stone wall. Listen to how you feel. If you are angry verbalize why. Even if no one else is listening, you hear you. It’s OK to let go.

Let go of the emotions that keep you tied to the version of yourself that you don’t like. Stop calling yourself bad names. When left alone with my thoughts sometimes they (I am)are mean to me. I alone allow myself to be negative over small slights of weakness or anger or sorrow. Why? Have you ever just asked yourself why?  No? Me either. Odd but true the people in your life love you just as you are. So why do I suck at liking myself? I set my self expectations way too high above my limitations that’s why.

My back is finally on the mend, most of my mobility has returned which is just wonderful.  Every February during school vacation a group of gaming geeks gather for a weekend of gaming. It is about the  exchanging of ideas, bad food and the great company of people you love that you haven’t seen in a year. Not my cup of tea but it makes the hubster happy so I tag along. I spend my weekend being the trophy wife and running around fake shopping and exploring with my best gal pal, Jadira. This year my bestie was ill with a bad bout of bronchitis and I was a stiff painful back muscle cramp. We both tried to have a great weekend but in truth I would say on a scale from disastrous to cool we mellowed out somewhere around ehh, it was ok.

I tried to stay on program as much as possible. I even went to a WWs meeting on Saturday just like I was at home. Yippee for me. I am trying to stick to my guns, to become a better version of myself. For the first time in more than a few years I feel like I can do this.

Trying Week

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What a week. I threw my back out on Valentine’s Day. Not doing anything kinky = (  which would have been way more preferable to the actual , “I was reaching for the bar of soap.” I was trying to get ready for an afternoon with some friends; new, old and yet undiscovered. I was invited to a Galentine’s Day brunch. A day to celebrate the women in  our lives that don’t have that special significant other. A friend and fellow co-worker invited me. I am married but she thought I might enjoy the fellowship of some other ladies outside my social circle. Truth be told I thought the idea was sweet and I was flattered to be invited.

Even though I was uncomfortable, the pain in my back was not of the emergency room visit type, so I decided to keep my plans and go. I am not sorry that I went.  My friend, Linda is an excellent hostess and her home is lovely. The food was amazing. I had a enjoyable time chatting and laughing with the other ladies present.

I paid for my merriment the next morning. I should have hit the heating pad as soon as I came home. I should have taken some anti-inflammatories. I should have known better. I awoke Monday morning unable to sit up on my own. I couldn’t get into the shower. I couldn’t dress myself. My back muscles were in true full on spasm mode. I have never wanted to scream so much in my life. It hurt to draw breath. I called out sick from work. I sat for the entire day on my couch watching countless hours of crap TV. I am thankful I don’t live alone. My hubby was truly worried about me and did his best to assist me in anyway he could.

I stuck to my WWS program the best I could. Food prep was not a high priority on my to do list. Too painful to stand for any real length of time. I feel that I managed quite well.  I will satisfied with whatever outcome shows on the scale this week.