Tag: marriage

adventures in quarantine, Uncategorized

I can live and breathe and see the sun.

tec

Alright. As my week wraps up and I review the hellish “through not around” that I waded in with my daughter this week, I want to take the opportunity to note some tangible tools I have learned.

Embrace the steps.

Step one. It’s not about me. It’s unmanageable. It’s not mine. Step two. Someone else has got this. Step three. Take a step back and let it be that someone else’s. Step six. Practice the pause.

I realize I’m skipping four and five here.  It’s not to minimize them. Those ones have deeper digging. They do not pertain quite yet within my immediate, tangible action.

Create the tiniest gap.

My goal–that I haven’t taken much time to write about–is that I want the voices in my head to quiet. That quiet is the peace I am aspiring to. That quiet is a return to my best and highest self.

When the thought loops run rampant, as they are wont to do unchecked, I spiral out. I want so much more than that for myself. I am so much more than that.

I have options. I can tell the voice to fuck off. I can turn my attention to constructive actions. I can write down the thought loops and walk away from them. I can mantra in my head “words and opportunity”. I can ask to have it taken away. I can journal longform about it. I can ask myself “Am I acting from a place of love or s place of fear?”

Whichever I choose, the act of pausing and deciding creates a gap for the universe to come in and support me.

Move.

This is just a good go to on any day. Gets me simultaneously in my head and out of my head. It grounds me to the earth and the universe. It provides the connection back to self.

Reality is kinetic.

Perspective dictates that not only can people have entirely different experiences to the same situation, but those experiences can morph and muddle with time. Reality can shift and transmogrify, and none of it is real and all of it is real. Whatever we remember and however we filter it creates a picture through our lens and it becomes our truth.

This isn’t good nor bad. It’s life. This is something I’ve always been aware of, but I had many attachment thoughts about it. It is now clear to me it is something I need to accept. I don’t have a “how” for that right yet. But all the other tangible things I’ve come to acquire this week tell me that I can ask for the how and then I can wait and it’ll be given to me when I need it.

So….I’m learning to do the work and also just stop. Both and neither. Click click and click.

~~~~~~~

I want to add. My process normally is that I write and then I share and talk about it with Chris. I’ve found in the past that when I talk it over first, I never write about it, and I don’t like losing that part.

I’ve been trying to write this particular post all week and none of it came. It was too wordy and circumvented all the tangibility.

I was finally able to, yesterday, share with Chris the events that unfolded over the week. His week began with a seizure and recovery, and mine was full of navigating Tuesday with R and the week with the boys.

After connecting with Chris last night to share the story of my week, and after he listened so attentively and responded so compassionately, it allowed this post to flow easily. We were us, with all the extra personal growth we’ve worked for. It is goodness.

adventures in quarantine, Adventures in running, Uncategorized

Anything but empty.

tec

I let the universe take care of me today. I let the people who love me turn my day around.

After I posted earlier, I went outside with the boys, but it wasn’t enough. My body needed to move. My mind needed to turn off. I employed R’s help with L and took off. I wasn’t even intending to run. I just needed to move.

I walked the first half, and then, suddenly, down a hill, barely with permission from my mind, my body started running. Experience tells me it was probably a minute thirty. It felt so good. Then I took off again after a short walk and that was probably 45 seconds. Then came the section I ran last night in two minutes. Today I timed it and it was a minute 45 and I didn’t want to forfeit the fifteen seconds, so I ran more. And then more. And again.

Screenshot_20200603-191128_Clock

Fucking two thirty! Amazing.

I needed a little extra walking time, so I added another side street, making the walk almost two miles.

I got home and my Chris was there, celebrating right alongside me. Fistbump explosions for days. Beaming with pride.

And then he let me just vent about my feelings. And then we came in and I needed to give a very dirt-covered L a bath. And I wasn’t expecting the company, but the company felt so fucking good and Chris and I just sat in the bathroom and kept talking while L took his bath.

He showed up for me so hard today. It means everything.

Uncategorized

Dream a little dream of me.

tec

I stayed up all night accidentally and now, suddenly, the sky is light and the birds are chirping away and it’s 4:57. My numbers.

I never got tired. Even now I’m not so tired. What a weird night. And a weird morning.

It feels like it was supposed to happen. This May turned June. This hallowed space and time.

I’ve been hiding for the past month. My vortex May turned into Chris’s vortex May. And I just spun.

I simultaneously floated and dragged my way through the month. Feet never properly touching the ground. I tried. Sometimes. And I succumbed others. Mostly I used those fine-tuned self-preservation skills to compartmentalize the month. Two months. Three.

I was kicking ass and taking names. At the start. And then some weight got heavy and I got tired. And then I chugged along. And then more weight. Until moving was the only thing I had. So I just kept doing that.

Kinetic Jill.

And it wasn’t all self-preservation. Those parts don’t make the mindful parts any less significant or successful. I’ll take it all. It just means a whole bunch of different terrain to navigate.

For now, I’m going to sleep for a few hours. And take the terrain again come (late) morning. It feels light again.

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The fire beneath my feet is burning bright.

tec

A couple nights ago I shared with Chris my ribcage. Years ago (2014) I weighed much less and my ribcage was a great source of pride. I had worked hard for that weight loss.

I had worked hard to overcome a crippling binge eating disorder. I had worked hard to find truth behind the lies of body dysmorphia. My success was evident in my body.

Then I consumed sugar (an orange, to be specific) for the first time in years and my eating disorder reminded me it was alive and well. Then I got pregnant and miscarried (2015). Eventually I got pregnant and had a baby (2016). Then postpartum happened. And sleep deprivation and stress and unhealthy eating patterns.

Life spiraled.

I gained and lost weight. I did Whole30 multiple times (2017). And keto a few. But something that strict felt like overkill. I wanted to learn to navigate healthy while not restricting sugar.

Previously (2010-2014) I had lived a strict Whole30 lifestyle for three+ years. Never touching any grains or fruit. Only consuming meats, healthy fats and the vegetables that didnt bother me. I felt good and never wanted for more.

I had been content never again consuming sugar, processed or otherwise. It felt safe. Sugar was my heroin. I had said it so many times.

But then suddenly (2018) life felt so different and “staying clean” with food was so freaking hard. I wanted sugar all the time. I was a fiend for it and I chased the rabbit hole in search of rock bottom. I’d hoped rock bottom would neutralize sugar for me. I’d hoped drowning in terrible coping mechanisms would give me time opportunity to learn safe ones.

I’d hoped it would do that before I caused irreparable damage and insurmountable weight gain.

It felt like a gamble. But it felt like a gamble that was worth it.

Last November I committed to Rachel Martin one food related change. Six weeks before everyone else was making New Years’ resolutions, she challenged me to dive head first into a headstart. I began with a food window. Much like intermittent fasting, except I wasn’t logging anything except the time. I needed permission to stop eating after dinner. I needed safeguards to not eat the moment I woke up.

Days turned to weeks turned to months. I was doing it. I could eat full on crap all through my window if I wanted. I didn’t want this time around to be about the food. I wanted it to be about the time. I was committed to clawing my way toward a healthy relationship with food by exhausting unhealthy. Only two things were required: food window from noon til 7pm and the first thing I eat is always a healthy, nutrient dense meal.

Enter a long season of a healthy breakfast at noon followed by hours of ice cream and chips and muffins and cookies and whatever the hell else I deemed in the name of “no restrictions”. Months later I called it quits on many of those things. Not out of fear or a need to restrict, but because I felt crappy. I wasn’t getting the physical results I wanted. Most importantly, I felt worse instead of better emotionally. I was looking for comfort and safety in the nonstop eating, and finding overwhelm and instability instead.

Enter Rachel and Dave Hollis and their next90 challenge.  This centers around five principles tended to daily.

  • Pen to paper five things I’m grateful for.
  • 30 minutes of moving my body.
  • Getting up an hour early for “me” time.
  • Drink half my weight in ounces of water.
  • Cut one food item you know you shouldn’t be eating.

I stopped eating cough drops, which had become a huge crutch. I had appreciated that I had found a hard candy made with sugar instead of corn syrup. And I abused the fuck out of them. For months. I ate them instead of eating, even tho I was still eating so much. And it was ridiculous. Next90 was just the excuse I needed to stop eating them. It was a relief in fact. Two and a half weeks later I committed to no more ice cream as well. It felt good to not rely on the familiar, destructive habits. It felt good to give myself the opportunity to find positive, constructive ones.

Here we are now in May and I’m noticing my ribs. For many days I noticed my ribs and I would touch them and play with them and feel the way my skin feels against them. I’d contemplate how in years past feeling thinner would be a huge trigger for me. How losing fat was the awesome success that turned into my downfall.

I showed Chris.

Chris got that adorable smile on his face. That smirky smile that is part turned on and part beaming with pride. And then he asked me how it feels. Because we ask each other stuff like that.

And I said that it feels weird.

And then he asked me this: how are you going to celebrate your accomplishment?

I was stopped in my tracks.

My accomplishment.

Suddenly it was all a different perspective. No need to get wrapped up in triggering thoughts or fear. No need to feel consumed by fear failure or success. No need to borrow trouble.

I can feel my ribs and know my body speaks for my hard work. I can take pride in my accomplishment and celebrate it. I can reap the benefits of fat minimizing and muscle maximizing.

I can allow my brain and my mindset to catch up with all the healthy, just as I allow my body to. It’s another reminder from the universe that I’ve got this. And the universe has me.

Uncategorized

Pick up the flashpoint.

tec

I felt so much clearer after I wrote on Thursday. It was almost alarming how quickly I felt clear again.

I called the tax guy and made an appt for the following day and by 1:30pm yesterday, our taxes were complete and filed and printed. And I have a copy now that I can submit for my student loan deferment at the end of the month.

Breathing.

I also had some calming thoughts regarding L and my stress paths. It doesn’t really matter how these things unfold. I can do my part and everything else is out of my hands. Sure, maybe there was things I was “supposed to” do sooner. Or maybe those things are right on time. Even if they keep me (or L) from something else. How can we know what is supposed to be? Maybe everything that is is supposed to be.

So, I’m breathing.

And I still haven’t talked to Chris about any of it yet. Because life upheaval and his dislocated shoulder. But I feel better about it without the conversation yet and that is the point.

I haven’t even leapt into the dislocated shoulder conversation here!

It is finally (presumably?) back in place. He has an ortho appt in a couple weeks. He hurts a lot. (Understatement of the year). He can’t take the anti-inflammatory til he finishes the steroid or else it causes severe nausea. But here he is with unfathomable inflammation causing an incredible amount of pain. Furthermore, the pain leads to lack of sleep and the lack of sleep leads to seizure activity. He’s his own walking nightmare right now.

I’m in my element with all of this and I know all of it is completely out of my hands and so all I see in this situation is the universe saying to Chris, “I’m not making myself clear here, son” and then shazam! Clear picture comes into focus. Make boundaries (especially to protect you from you). Delegate. Let people help you. Learn new ways to realize your usefulness. Let who you are define you, not what you can and can’t accomplish with one arm.

And, honestly, I just feel blessed to be along for the ride on this one. Chris is kicking ass and taking freaking names in the self-development department. Yeah, it totally sucks and there’s some kicking rocks, but mostly? Mostly he is stepping up and well surpassing all I’ve always known he is capable of.

He was thrust into this seemingly impossible situation, and knew he had to shift mindset or drown. And in the face of it being so. freaking. hard., he is freaking doing it anyway. And I think that is so freakin’ awesome. I couldn’t be prouder of him.

We both have had such fundamental progress during this quarantine. We are thrivers. I’m so in love with us and our relationship and all the goodness we are capable of.

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It took some time to survive you.

tec

I’ve been disconnecting my why and my who from my present the past few days.

I’m sure there’s a reason. I’m sure that reason is important. But I haven’t tread there yet. I haven’t come here to pick it apart.

I know part (most?) of it is stress. I know it’s some of the little behind-the-scenes stuff happening that is out of my control. Or was once in my control (sorta) and I didn’t fight then to turn overwhelm into action. And so now there are multiple overwhelm categories all sneaking to the forefront at once.

I could name them, but that is scary. I’m not there yet. Even tho I know it’s helpful.

So I’m checking them off slowly without naming them.

But even still, I find myself here, now, facing the fact that my why and my who have not been congruent with my relationship with food. And that’s okay. There’s no shame in that. It’s observation. And still, it’s my present truth.

And that’s not to say that has to be my truth the next time I eat or tonight or tomorrow. It’s just the truth of what the last couple days have looked like. And part of my personal development is that I’m self aware enough to notice and acknowledge these things, and then decide where I place my foot during my next step.

I’ve noticed and acknowledged the last few days. Of course I have! I no longer have the luxury of not seeing it. And still I’ve made the decisions that the ideal, future, healthy version of me would. not. make. And to make it worse, when I make the anti-me decisions, I tack on preposterous words like, “future me would give herself a break right now and eat this” and “future me would allow for self care to be this one cookie”.

FUTURE ME WOULD. NOT. SAY. THAT.

Future me would say, “find a different way, sister!” (Because future me will sometimes talk like Rachel Hollis and randomly call people sister.)

Future me would also take the time to write because it’s my therapy. Because it brings me back to me. Because it brings me closer to living and breathing my idealized me.

So I sit here writing. Because it’s important. It’s vital. I need it. And I take breaks for self care.

Today I took L to the doctor and re-set myself on a stress path. I need to solidify some research there and put pen to paper. That will help. Today I will also call the tax guy and re-set myself on that stress path. Actively being on those paths is a lot less stressful than knowing I need to get on them. My higher functioning brain knows this, but the whole rest of my being fights it.

And I should also talk to my husband and speak some stress paths because that may be helpful even tho I keep adamantly dragging my feet about it and it’s the very very last thing I want to actually do.

So. Time to jump.

Uncategorized

Like the ceiling can’t hold us.

tec

Before I even make my coffee this morning, I want to share what my life affords me.

I woke up this morning to this.

20200503_092704

There are clean dishes in the drain board from 24 hours ago. There’s crap on the island. A day’s worth of dirty dishes in the sink. Nothing’s been disinfected.

The living room was scattered with papers and some haphazard books. Gym blocks in disarray. Bath toys littering the carpet. There’s a load of laundry to be folded and another yet to be washed.

You want to know what this represents to me?

A day well spent with my attention elsewhere.

My life–my amazing freaking life–my I practice and practice and practice life–my I get back up again life–affords me this moment. I could focus yesterday without micromanaging all of the home tasks. I could eat a meal without care if the dishes were washed. My routines (even taking a day off from them) afford me only an hour of catchup time today to get everything back to normal. My mindset work afforded me the ability to not even consider that someone else should wash the dishes yesterday. Never did I play the victim and think, “well, if no one can even give me the damn day, I guess I have to stop this important conference to wash a dish.” Never did I even think to entertain “I just want to watch the speakers, but L wants attention too and now I have to give up my dream!”

No! I am so much more than that.

I didn’t give a shit about the dishes. I didn’t think someone else should do them. I was grateful for the times Chris took L to play in the other room, but I was just. as. grateful. for all the moments L spent with me too! I incorporated him into my conference. I welcomed him. And he loved it! He felt loved.

My conference ended around 6:30. I was freaking glowing. Chris was on a call outside and L and I danced around the living room for the hundredth time, as my calves burned from the day.

I could have cleaned the house then. I even considered it. Wanna know what I did instead? I went outside and I played with my kid. Because even tho I spent a great part of the day with him, my attention was split. My life affords me that too. So we went outside and chased monsters and threw Spiderman webs and enjoyed the beautiful weather.

Later we went to the store. Still no clean kitchen. Later L went to bed. Still no clean kitchen. Even later than that Chris and I had amazing freaking sex. Still no clean kitchen.

And it was never a freaking thought in my head.

And so today, when I woke up and saw my home. It was the prize. It wasn’t the burden. It was the freaking prize. Because yesterday I lived in abundance. And I loved in abundance. And today my house, which is easily pickup-able, represents all of my progress. All of my glorious progress. And there is just nothing better than that.

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The voice that’s been calling me back home.

tec

I had a panic attack this afternoon.

I feel compelled to write about it because I learned a lot of things. First, a panic attack is not failure. It is a lesson learned. Second, it’s not weakness. It is an opportunity to see how strong you were for so long until something got too big. Third, for me, it was a chance to see how far I’ve come.

In months and years past, a catalyst would have been icing on a cake that propelled me into yelling and shaming and damaging my relationships with the people I love the most.

Today, because of constant work I’ve poured into self-improvement, I felt all of the overwhelm, but I walked away. Never did I fall into a victim mentality because “no one helps me”. Nor did I walk toward anyone and spew venom. I didn’t do irreparable damage.

First, I asked myself why it hurt so much that it feels like my family isn’t showing up for me. And I listened. The answer was, even tho I’ve been showing up for myself, today I went a little too far showing up for someone else and it was at my expense. I hurt because I was mad at myself for not setting a better boundary.

Next, I asked myself why it hurt so much that I didn’t feel looked after. I listened for an answer. The answer was that, while it would be cool to have my family, or more specifically Chris, just omnisciently show up for me, it’s not reasonable. And just because sometimes I catch the glimmer of a grimace that he’s in pain and should ice his shoulder doesn’t mean he should catch all my cues. Hell, I may not even have clues. (And there are totally times I miss Chris’s clues.) Therefore, the answer to my question is that when I have needs, I need to voice those needs.

Today I had a panic attack and I invited Chris to sit with me. He showed up for me. I did it with him by my side. I didn’t have to feel alone.

Showing up for myself doesn’t just mean I run on run days no matter what. Part of showing up for myself means I tell other people what I need. I utilize my support system and let others help me when I need help.

Of course, it also means I get quiet and ask myself what I need. And then I listen and follow through.

I could view my panic attack today as a failure. Well. No. I can’t even do that. I don’t even have the mindset to view it that way anymore. I’ll say instead that, plain and simple, I had a panic attack today and it was a huge growth development moment for me.

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She said, “I dig you, baby, but I got to keep movin’ on.”

tec

She came. She saw. She conquered.

We volunteered to foster a dog a few days ago. Chris and I adventure roadtrip’d a half hour away to pick up this super sweet stray. Then we detoured to pick up supplies and came home.

Our dog was not fond of the new pup.

<insert super sad panda face>

We navigated and kept the dogs separate. It was a huge pain in the ass, but still totally worth it! She was sweet, but also 50lbs of pure charging muscle. We learned she was just 14 months old and it showed in the adorable way she couldn’t control her running body. I called her a flopsy mopsy cottontail of a dog.

L loved her, but not how fast she would come at him. Nor did he love her kisses. I, on the other hand, loved her excited chin licks.

Yesterday L and I took her to animal services so the vet could do a checkup and check her skin. It was a fun way to get out of the house during a quarantine.

Today Harley enjoyed sleeping “next to” MJ, but we couldn’t quite make it work better than that.

A volunteer picked her up this evening to bring her to a foster to adopt home. I hope it’s her new permanent home and that she feels safe and loved.

As I sit home tonight feeling safe and loved, I am especially grateful for a husband who not only tolerates these random acts of kindness and joy, but fully supports me in all these endeavors as well. And I’m grateful for kids who think it’s mostly sorta pretty all right too.

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The whole world is moving.

tec

It’s so funny to me. I write a post like my last one, which, as soon as I honored that feeling, the feeling was gone. But then I don’t post for a few days and suddenly it appears that I memorialized that one fleeting moment for days. It amuses me.

Welcome to Thursday. Spring Break is slowly coming to its end. We are in week three of isolation. Here is a recap because I haven’t talked much about it.

The first week was because of influenza A. I got sick first and then R. We were diagnosed on Friday, when Chris started with similar symptoms. The second week was an e-learning trial run (which had some super high highs and some super low lows), along with Chris getting hit hard by the flu and L being hit by a super high fever and no other symptoms. S managed to stay sickness free the entire two weeks, then went to Joe’s for the weekend. Week three found everyone feeling better, except L had some dehydration and digestive stuff going on, but he seems better ish with fluids and a probiotic. S stayed the week at his dad’s which gave R some much needed S-free time. She also drove every day this week, which helped her feel seen and loved and trusted. Being out of work has been rough on Chris, but he’s actually handling it really well. He’s been doing self-reflection and showing up for himself, which is what I’m always hoping for for him. We also got to spend some good time together this week, going for a walk, watching Heroes a few nights, and cuddling on the couch.

I’ve been showing up for me as well. Taking a pause when I need to and shifting mindset in the face of challenging times. I’ve connected with my podcasts and my army of positive voices. I’ve committed time to my goals, especially getting my site launched, which I am constantly backburner’ing. I feel stable, which really says a lot.

The kids go back to e-learning next week and it’s going to be challenging. S gets sidetracked and R isolates. It will take a lot of mental effort on my part to stay on top of helping them stay on top of their education. One moment at a time.

None of this is easy. But I certainly don’t have to make it harder. I get to choose my mindset. That means everything. I choose goodness. That means even more.