A mother's legacy

My mom would be so mad if she saw how many times I'm going to refer to her as mother in this post.

My mother once told me that a sign of a great leader is that the leader's work continues and people continue to succeed, even when the leader is gone. My dad reiterated that to me years later, as I was leaving college. I think about that bit of advice almost daily, especially in my job.

I'm not a mother. I'm not sure if I will ever get that opportunity. Only time and God will tell. But I've been thinking about motherhood a lot lately. My best friend had her first child this year. She lost her own mom, like I did, years ago. I was invited to the hospital to wait for her little one's arrival. I can't tell you the feelings that took over me as I stood in the hospital room, holding my friend's little girl for the first time. I was in complete awe. I was so proud of my friend and her husband, calm and collected, smiling and laughing as they introduced the baby to all the people that loved her even before she was born. It was such a happy moment.

I started thinking about my nieces and nephew, how much they had grown, how quickly time had passed. And as I drove home, I thought about my brother and my sister. How did they do it? How did they handle careers, kids, relationships....anything, without our mom? 

I wondered how long my friend's family would stay in that room with her. I wondered how long the baby would sleep that first night. I wondered what it felt like to be a mother. And in an instant, I was overcome with grief. My heart ached, knowing that my friend's mom couldn't be there. I wondered how she'd do it.

She just... did. I've watched her become an incredible mom over the past months. I've listened to the stories, seen the pictures, and actually cried real tears when they sent me the video of their baby eating solid food for the first time. Who doesn't cry at that?  I finally got to see them a few weeks ago. My friend wore that baby like a champ as we shopped, talked, and caught up. I thought many times, I'll never be able to be a mom like her.

I wonder if our moms thought about us becoming mothers? We were both young, but I assume it had crossed their minds. I wonder if they were nervous or scared for us? What I do know is they probably both expected to be here for these moments. That may be what hurts the most, still, after all these years.

But my best friend, she's incredibly strong, and despite the sad moments, she really has owned motherhood. And she's simultaneously helped me stay sane as I've battled a difficult year without my own mom. So.much.life.

My friend is lucky. She had a great mom, just like I did. I'm not a mother, but I wonder if being a great mom is similar to what my mom told me about great leaders. Like somehow my friend, my brother, my sister, and even myself have managed to continue to grow after my mother died. We haven't been perfect. We haven't always made the right choices. But somehow, after 13 years being gone, I still feel her love and still hear her voice when I'm making decisions. And that's the part of her that I know I'll share with my kids if I ever become a mom. Not the times that she fed me ice-cream for dinner, yelled at me for no reason, or picked me up from school an hour late. Because let's be honest, she had her moments. But does any of that matter if I'm able to grow, succeed, treat people with decency and just live...even after she's gone?

I believe that you make a lot of choices in life that lead you different directions. Some are good and some are bad. My mother is not the  person responsible for my success or failure. But she did equip me to be able to make decisions on my own (good or bad) and held the promise of unconditional love, even when she couldn't show it. I feel like that is what counts, so I can forgive her in the long run for forcing me to eat meatloaf that caused me to throw up at the dinner table.

I've been wanting to hear from my mom the past six months, even knowing it's not possible. I miss her. Thankfully, I have my family and my friends that are like family to get me through the hard times. I bet she wondered how I would turn out, if she had messed me up royally. I hope she can see where I've been and where I'm going. I hope she can see how totally incredible my brother and sister are. I am just part of my mother's legacy.When I get really sad, or think about the bad times with her, instead of the good, I pull out the letters she sent me at camp in 2002 that remind me what a good mom she was and how much I was unconditionally loved.

An excerpt:

Carmen actually rode the horse today. I didn't stay for the lesson, but I guess everything went okay. She's not dead of anything. LOL. She said the horse was slobbery. 

We got Grandpa a pair of shorts today to mow his lawn and your dad is going to give him enough money to pay for his upper dentures.

Larry and Julia are going to St. Luis this weekend. The Royals play in St. Louis. I hope they beat St. Louis in their own stadium--that would be so awesome. 

Aunt Vickie went crazy when I told her you aren't allowed to call. The more I think about it, the sillier it seems t not let you call home. They could have designated times for doing that. If you decide to go next year, then we'll have to talk to someone about that. 

Time to turn in. Wish I had something interesting to tell you. You take care and don't drown yourself. Hurry up and come home. Okay?

Love,
Mom. 


Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there. You're doing a good job.

365 days

I met Eric when he was 19 years old. That's an alarming thought to me, since my favorite guy will be turning 30 this year. When we met, we were just kids.

Katie (19), Eric (20)

Eric @ 19 years old.

This was before we made a documentary. It was before we ran a half-marathon. It was before we started working together.  It was before we traveled together to chase our dreams.

It was before Eric was a landowner.

It was before Eric became an amazing Uncle.

It was before Eric produced his first game.

It was before the Royals won the World Series.

It was before we became best friends.

It was before we fell in love.

We've shared over a decade of friendship. We've shared over a decade of fun, laughter, challenges and heartache. But of all the years and all the memories, these last 365 days have been the best. We've had a great time taking on life as a team and embarking on several new adventures. I've learned so much about myself and so much about the love of my life. Perhaps most importantly, I've watched Eric become the man I always knew he would be.

God willing, we will share many more incredible years. Since we are adults now, it won't always be the easy days of Well's Hall or sitting in my dad's driveway talking about our hopes and dreams for the future. But that's really where it all started over 10 years ago.  And I'll always be grateful for every little moment that got us here and I look forward to all the little unknown moments that we'll have in the future.

Happy one-year of official coupledom, Eric! Let's celebrate by running a couple miles. 

Finding peace

Eric and I have been best friends for nearly a decade, and over the course of those ten years I've learned a lot about him. He's learned a lot about me as well. We've discovered  many things we have in common and several items that we just agree to disagree on. For instance, we can both listen to Willie Nelson all day, spend a day fishing, and eat chili every other day of the week. But he'll never convince me to drink coffee & beer and I'll never be able to get him to fully commit his heart to Garth Brooks.

I've discovered over the past year that Eric is a lot more laid back than I am. He's organized and diligent, but during crisis he remains mostly calm. I'm a bit more severe in my reactions to things (thanks mom and dad), but I'm also more process-oriented and efficient. Different things drive us crazy. I can't stand being late or understand how people can be so snide or disrespectful to each other in the work place. Eric isn't upset like I am if there is a change-of-plans or bump in the road, but he's easily frazzled by messes and broken things he can't fix immediately. He doesn't want to write all day and I don't want to spend time fixing the lawn mower, but we respect each other's talents and value our differences.

We love a lot of the same things and we love each other. We find peace in the same things, like a good book, good music, wine on the patio, a day at the lake, a hike in the woods, or a perfectly grilled steak after the longest day of work. We love our families, the peace of the outdoors, and time away from work and technology. We both have a desire to constantly learn new things and grow individually and as a couple. We both know the value of not trying to serve as our own Gods.

Last year, Eric and I started talking about what we wanted our lives to look like five or ten years from that day, and I wasn't surprised that our hopes for the future were eerily similar. It has always been a dream of mine to live away from the city with some land and space to create or learn new things. I've always felt a bit displaced in suburbia and at the end of hard days, I find no peace in busy roads, crowded bars, or long (very long in some cases) Netflix binges. Same goes for Eric.

However, I'm the first to admit that I've always readily taken advantage of every convenience offered to me. And I'm not upset about that. Eric has lived in downtown Kansas City for five years. Being his girlfriend, I spent a lot of time there and have no shame in the fact that I took advantage of every single thing that city life had to offer. I could walk to the grocery store, movie theatre, bar, the gym. I could order carry-out from pretty much any restaurant I wanted. I could either walk to get it or have them deliver it. Eric had google fiber which I imagine is how people felt when the microwave was invented. I had Netflix, Hulu, AND Amazon Prime. It.was.awesome. But there is no peace in it for me.

Unfortunately, instant gratification  can be pretty debilitating - at least for me. I would consider my self a very self-sufficient human being. I've been taking care of myself for a long time, but I feel like there are life skills I lack that my grandpa would be ashamed of. People used to have to grow food to survive. This year I killed four of five potted plants that Eric bought for his back patio (the tomatoes survived) No one and nothing has ever depended on me for survival, unless you count Garth - but let's be honest, he pretty much takes care of me. I just learned what the "broil" button controls in the oven, this year. For the first time in over 28 years, I have fully grasped North, South, East and West without looking at MapQuest, Google Maps, or asking my dad. This past year I had to start calling many people every day for work. I was ill-prepared to speak as a grown human being (business woman), because I've spent the past ten years firing off instant messages, texts, and quick, incoherent e-mails. I don't know what I was more mortified by, my ineptitude or the fact that everyone I encountered was just as bad off as I was. I'm considering having Garth take over my business dealings.

About three months ago, Eric found a beautiful house out in the country with 40 acres- some cropland, some pasture, a large barn, and a beautiful stable. We fell in love. I love nothing more than the idea of being connected to all the luxuries of modern living, but also having space to explore and tranquility to enjoy without the constant hustle of every day life. I watched Eric fight for the property on different levels. Last week, after a lot of waiting, turmoil, and moving woes, we got everything moved to the new place. I am a firm believer that you can make any house a home, but it feels like such a blessing to find the exact type of place we pictured our futures.

Lots of people asked Eric, "What are you going to do with that land?" or "Why would you want to live all the way out there?" There are plans for the future (nothing immediate), for a lot of things on this land, but for now I think Eric is just enjoying the serenity of "country living". I know I am. Not everyone can find their dream home before 30 and make it a reality. Eric was able to do that and I am so excited to continue our journey together. I'm excited for all the learning that will have to happen to maintain this beautiful property and all the ways we can utilize it in coming years. I believe that you can make any house a home, but I'm excited that Eric found a place to call home that can bring so much peace for both of us and hopefully any family, friends, critters, or future kids (goats and humans) that want to spend time out here.

Garth was really enthused about going to a new house. Eric said he could come, but Garth has the same feelings on moving as I do.

"I'll go, but I'm not packing anything."

Saying goodbye to Eric's house in the city was more difficult than I thought. It was there that Eric and I watched our dream of making a documentary come to fruition. We had fun painting the whole house and installing hardwood floors in the basement. 

 

It was at his house that he and Garth became best friends.

It was there that Eric and I decided we wanted to commit to each other. It's where we started our next documentary, started our new jobs together, and shared our first kiss. I don't want to say I cried when I said goodbye to it, but I did. It's just a house, just like the new one is. But those memories are important to me and I'll always remember them there - the way it looked, the way it smelled. But there is a new place to make new memories, and it was one of the happiest days of my life when I went with Eric to the house for the first time after he got the keys.

 

You can dream about something your whole life, knowing that it may very well never happen. That's how I felt about falling in love with Eric and that's how I feel about his new house. I dreamed of ending up with someone like Eric, but didn't know it would ever happen and that it could be everything and more than I ever wanted and needed. I hoped that one day we would find this house, but I didn't know it could actually be a reality.

 

 

Cheers to life's next adventure!







Or die tri-ing

Last year my friend Dena competed in a triathlon and she convinced me to sign up for it this year. For the low-low price of $115 , you too can become a triathlete. All joking aside, the event is really worth it. It offers just the type of encouragement that first time participants need and a lot of extra love that you don't see in other races. The Win For KC Triathlon is an all-women, sprint tri that requires a 500 meter swim, 10 mile bike, and 5k run. I can confidently tell you that I can complete each leg of this tri as a stand-alone event. That thought is so incredible to me. Three years ago, I was winded walking around Target or chasing my nephew around. But now,  even out-of-shape, I can muddle through  each of the legs individually. However, I was very surprised to discover how incredibly challenging it was to put them all together. 

I'm still struggling to find my groove in the exercise and diet routine. I have the same typical life excuses that everyone else does, and even though I've tried to keep a fairly consistent exercise routine, I didn't "train" to the extent I needed to. I didn't lose any weight to make strenuous exercise easier on my knees or re-train my lungs  to function for me during an endurance event. A week before the event I successfully completed the 10 mile bike portion of the triathlon and two miles of the run. It was difficult, but very doable. It gave me the little bit of confidence I needed to recommit to completing this triathlon, which is a huge point on my bucket list! Unfortunately, I still had that pesky swim portion to think about. 

Last Tuesday, I participated in my first "open water" swim. So basically I got in the lake, started swimming, and hoped I didn't drown before the teenage lifeguards  could get to me on my kayaks. Someone who is participating in an outdoor triathlon should probably do a lot of these swims before race day, but sickness, flooded lakes, and a busy work schedule left me ill-prepared and scared. The whole open water thing was a lot different than swimming laps at the YMCA. I couldn't see ANYthing. I can't walk a straight line sober, and I quickly learned that this same level of direction and grace applies to my swimming practices. But overall, I felt pretty decent about surviving the swim part of my first triathlon, only a few days away. 

On Wednesday I picked up my race packet. It included the timing chip that velcroed around my ankle. Oh, this is gonna weigh me down. I'll just subtract two minutes off my total time to account for this monstrosity. (Actual size...miniscule). It also included the complimentary t-shirt. Why is this so small? Did I order this size? Yep, I did. Oh, I thought I would lose weight...training. There was also the race bib and bike tab. 868? I can dig it. And let's not forget the swim cap.

The swim cap had been giving me nightmares for a few days. I've never worn a swim cap and I was convinced I couldn't fit one on my giant noggin. And just like I expected, I put it on to discover that my humongous head was just popping it off like it does  headbands. I considered my options. I could back out of the race to avoid embarrassment, or I could use just my legs for the swim portion, while I held down my swim cap. Challenge accepted! Then I realized that my cap came with instructions and my mini-panic was all for naught. I had it on incorrectly. The swim cap fit just fine. I'm an idiot.

Before I knew it, race day was here. It was an early morning with a lot of waiting around before getting in the water. I had a few jitters, but mostly specifically to transitioning from one event to another. I've now participated in enough organized events like this that I don't fear them anymore. I was mostly ready for the challenge. 

I hit the water and I.FELT.AWESOME. I've always confidently owned my slowness. I mean for pete's sake, at least I'm out there giving it all I've got. I'm a slow biker, an even slower runner. I mean, I run slower than some people walk. And I know it's not important, but I wasn't the slowest person in the water. I found it strangely invigorating to be passing people. I felt powerful and it pushed me to swim even harder. I am not fast by any means, but it was nice to feel okay at something for a change.

I'm looking forward to seeing the pictures as we exited the water (and then immediately deleting them), because I know exactly what I looked like as I came out on the boat ramp. 

I felt awesome and accomplished. So, I booked it! I ran past people walking to the transition area.I made it to my bike, dried my feet, put on my helmet and headed up the hill for the bike portion. One pedal, two pedal, three pedal, uh-oh....

I made it only a quarter of a mile before I felt really sick. I got off my bike on the side of the road. My heart was pumping, I could barely breathe, I felt light-headed. I had never felt like this before, but I dropped my head between my legs and drank water for five minutes straight. I was 15 seconds away from walking my bike back to the start and not completing the race. But I suddenly felt much better. I paid over $200 to compete in this. Screw you, body. I was going to complete this race or die tri-ing! (See what I did there?) I still felt winded, but I got on my bike and slowly started pedaling. It was an uphill battle (literally) and I took it as slow as possible so I could monitor my heart rate and avoid over-exerting my lungs again. The bike portion took me 30 minutes longer than it did only one week earlier. 

That was pretty devastating to me. But I should have listened to my sister, "Don't go out like an asshole". Doing well in something felt so good that I applied way too much effort in my first leg of the race. Adrenaline, sprinting between transitions, and not hydrating for the weather is probably what got me. It almost ended my race before it really started and it scared the living bejesus out of me. That 10-mile bike ride was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life physically because I used all my physical strength to build up my body just to get back on my bike. When it ended, the finish line seemed so near. But I still had the run.

Probably not ideal to take your pre-race photo in front of an ambulance. It's like I was asking to need a medic on the course!

I got off my bike and took it slow, drinking plenty of water before I headed over to the run trail. I started jogging and immediately experienced excruciating cramps in my side and legs. I walked the first mile of the 5k slanted to the side, trying to stretch the cramp out. Gatorade saved my life at the first hydration station. I was able to jog a bit for the remaining part of the 5k, but mostly I just walked-taking it easy to avoid any other medical issues. The running trail was lined with inspirational words from spectators. "You can do this! You are beautiful! Sweat now, wine later!" Every woman I passed had something sweet to say or a quick word of encouragement. That was unlike anything else I've ever been a part of.

Eventually, I crossed the finish line. I was last in my age group and only 20 people finished behind me. It didn't end like I thought it would when I started. I was pretty disappointed, but of course happy I survived. For not training like I should have and not taking care of my body, I should have been thrilled. I learned a valuable lesson about protecting my body during this race. I'm not invincible, but I am strong. I told my friend Dena that I loved her and hated her in the same breath. It was the most difficult thing I've ever done.

I took a few moments to reflect on the past few years after the race. Since 2012, I've completed two 5ks, one 10k, a half marathon, and now a triathlon. And I can't help but think that if I can do these things, anyone can. Not only that, but if I can do these things, what CAN'T I do? Pushing myself to do these things and setting goals has helped me form the confidence I need to take on my career and and other life challenges.

Sometimes you have to walk. Sometimes you finish last. And sometimes you put your swim cap on wrong. But being slow and looking stupid has failed to keep me from accomplishing my goals these days. I wonder what's next?

Realized I was going to see the finish line.

Look...a "gold"medal!

Post-race meal from my sweetie.

Tri Tri Tri

A little over a year ago, I ran a half marathon. Now it is close to impossible for me to put two miles in without having to stop to walk. My heart rate shoots up. I get winded before I reach the quarter mile mark. I'm out of shape. It has been depressing.

I've grown to dislike running as a sport. I've always loved what it does for my body, and how I feel when I finish a run.  But the physical act of running took a huge toll on my body the past couple years. It's mostly because I didn't make keeping my body healthy a priority. When you're training for a long run, you have to be constantly running. I had only a couple "off days" a week, and it never seemed like quite enough time to recover.

I started training for a triathlon recently. On July 25th I will swim 500 meters, bike 10 miles, and run a 5k. The biggest victory I've had so far is discovering that swimming is naturally protecting my body. I've incorporated swimming into my workouts at least three days a week. I.Love.it. Quite honestly, nothing feels better than swimming after my harder bike rides and longer runs. Given, my longer runs are closer to two miles now than eight or nine, but I've still seen a major difference in how quickly my body bounces back after a workout.

I've discovered something else. I may always suck at running. I think I'll always run on some level because it provides me the greatest bang for my buck. But it is definitely still the most difficult for me out of the three. I'm pretty much at ground zero, struggling to find motivation on my running days to fit in a mile. I can do this though!

Biking is way harder than I anticipated. Slowly but surely I am making strides in that department. I guess I never learned anything about changing gears on my bike growing up. It took several grueling Smithville Lake bike rides for Eric to teach me the ins and outs of shifting gears. I think I've finally grasped that though. All I have to do is survive the hard rides.

The good news? Swimming hasn't sucked. I've found something that I want to become better at. I think if I continue working on my swimming after this triathlon is over, I might even become good at it. That's a really motivating feeling and it has inspired me when I've felt like throwing in the towel on this whole triathlon thing.

A couple weeks ago, we biked seven miles and then I told Eric I was going to go for a quick run. I lasted .10 miles. Why? Do you remember  moon shoes?

It felt like I was running in those. I almost fell on my face. A week later I did a four mile bike ride and then jogged a half mile. We will call that progress...I guess.

It has felt good to have a goal again. The weight is finally starting to come off again, but this time it's very slowly. I'm focusing on my training and looking forward to more mini-successes on my journey to my first tri!

The things we don't want to talk about

My first triathlon is at the end of July. I have to swim 500 meters, bike 10 miles, and run a 5K. I have to do all of this without dying (to be considered successful). I started my training about three weeks ago. The training has been new and exciting. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions as I've conquered days that I thought would kill me and struggled through other days that I thought should have been easy.

Yesterday, Eric and I rode our bikes around the downtown airport in Kansas City. It's a 4 mile loop with only a couple hard hills. I felt confident as we took off, but was soon discouraged as people raced past me. My stubby legs can only pedal so fast. My weak legs tried to propel me through the wind. I was mortified as I shifted my bike into it's lowest gear and quite literally inched up the one steep hill. Veteran cyclists whizzed past me, going up the hill. I felt embarrassed. I didn't want to do another lap once I reached the starting point, but I did. I had plenty on my mind to think about.

I've been feeling a little defeated lately, reflecting on years past and the constant abuse I put my body through for the majority of my life. Anyone that reads my blog knows that I've been struggling this past year to feel beautiful, working diligently to create and sustain a positive self image. But I was reminded this month how little those feelings can matter compared to overall health.

I've shared multiple times that I was put on blood pressure medication close to when I started my weight loss journey. I don't know if I ever shared that before that happened, it had been over seven years since I had been to the doctor. Sure, I cut part of my thumb off in college and had to go to the emergency room-but I always skipped those pesky yearly physicals. Why? It was unbearably embarrassing. I felt like doctors looked down at me and I didn't want anyone else in my life telling me I needed to lose weight. I'm fat. I get it. You don't weigh over 350 pounds and think, hmm...I wonder if I'm overweight? It's not like I needed a professional to tell me that. I lived it every day, felt it every day.

So, I stayed away. After I went to the doctor that first time in 2012, it was monthly visits to check my blood pressure. They did blood tests to check for other ailments caused by obesity. They didn't find anything too alarming, so they focused on getting my blood pressure under control.  It was only a year later and more than 100 pounds gone that I got to kiss my blood pressure medication goodbye. I felt vindicated. I felt like I stomped all those health concerns associated with obesity. I am not a statistic. Good blood pressure, good blood sugar, great resting heart rate. I had become an athlete and reversed years of damage to my body.

But here's the thing, you can't just fix everything just like that. Like a smoker who finally smokes his last cigarette or the alcoholic that takes his last drink- I felt new. But some health problems that result from over-indulgence in things like nicotine, alcohol, and even food develop over time.

I found out about a month ago that I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). For those of you not familiar with this, it's a hormonal endocrine disorder that puts you at risk for high blood pressure, diabetes, cancer of the uterus, and infertility. Bummer. It can be caused by obesity and also cause obesity. Vicious cycle.I was sort of expecting this diagnosis, but it was still hard to process when the doctor called. The good news is, I have no signs of insulin resistance. Diabetes and high blood pressure are not even close to on the radar right now. This is probably because I now exercise regularly and try to eat healthy (though not always successful). I'm bummed because if I had never been morbidly obese- I probably wouldn't be facing this health issue.

The doctor said that as I lose more weight, I'll see more and more PCOS symptoms subside. She also mentioned that with PCOS, it's best to conceive all children before I'm 35 years old. With children on the future (but not immediate) radar, I find myself frustrated with..well...myself. There's no proof that my obesity caused my PCOS, but it's likely and I hope I can continue on my path to better me and better health so that I don't face fertility issues in the future.

When the doctor called to confirm PCOS I wasn't surprised. I was surprised when she said, "Your liver enzymes are elevated and I think it would be best if we did an ultrasound." My liver? I don't take tylenol.  I'm not a heavy drinker. What could possibly be wrong with my liver?

"It's probably fatty liver," she told me.

Is that the politically correct term? Do we have to call it fatty liver?

"But it could be lesions or something else so we really need to take a look. We want it to be fatty liver. You'll just live with it and probably have no complications. Very few people develop liver disease from it. Almost all morbidly obese people have it."

Two things stood out to me. "Very few people develop liver disease". Very few? Okay, that's more than zero which was my hope when it came to my chances of developing liver disease. Also, "Almost all morbidly obese people have this."

I'm not morbidly obese...

But I was.

I've never had an abdominal ultrasound. The technician scanned over my abdomen. She kept going back to the same spot and taking more pictures. I started to become nervous and then scared. I was crying by the time I left. I had a million things racing through my mind. What if it's a lesion? What if it is fatty liver? Will that be a problem? Perhaps most prevalent, what if it's cancer?

God. I'm not ready to die.

I had to wait nearly seven days for them to call me and let me know that the ultrasound looked good. They are going to do my blood tests again in a few months and see if anything changed. I felt relieved, and now I feel determined. If this is the life I have and the body I have to live it, I'm going to treat it properly. I know I won't always be perfect. I'll indulge. I'll skip workouts and sometimes eat too much. But gone are the days of treating my body like it doesn't matter. I can't just workout and eat right because I want to feel good about myself and look pretty. Those are great motivators, but my mind and soul will have no chance of succeeding if I don't take care of my body.

I've been seeing a lot of positive articles on body image in regards to overweight or curvy women. It's great. I wish there had been more words and imagery like that when I was younger. If I felt beautiful earlier on in life, I may have been more motivated to take care of myself.

But there are some hard truths we need to face. I don't want to talk about my health issues or battles I'm still facing as I try to overcome my demons and live right. It can be embarrassing. I sometimes still feel guilt for living like I did. It comes and goes. I'm starting to also feel victorious and accomplished for deciding that my life was worth enough to try...try to reverse some of the damage my body faced.

It's  great to feel beautiful, but healthy feels even better. I want to tell you something that no one wants to talk about anymore....

You can be beautiful and obese, but it's really difficult to be obese and perfectly healthy.

 I really wanted to ignore that fact and prove science wrong. Look world, I can be obese, successful, beautiful, and healthy. My genes have me programmed to be overweight and to support the extra weight. Larger heart, strong legs. I should be perfectly fine. But things aren't perfect, even though they are fine for now.

 I don't want people to look at the idea of weight loss as giving into some sort of societal expectation. When you're extremely overweight, eating right, working out, and losing weight is not saying to the world, "I don't feel beautiful how I am." It's about saying to yourself, I am worth it. I am doing this because I am beautiful.

The journey continues for me. It will be a lifelong journey of ups and downs. I hope my overall health will continue to improve. I'm going to try my hardest to not get embarrassed by my lack-of-speed or poor technique. At least if I'm out there...I'm trying. I'd love some company. If there is anyone out there ready for a change, big or small- just let me know. My biggest ally in all of this has been this blog and the people who have helped me through the difficult times. We can do this!

The day the world didn't stop

Dear Mom,

I thought about you on my drive home tonight. They are predicting storms all weekend and I drove through one of them tonight. I remember growing up how storms never fazed you. You didn’t care if there was lightning, thunder, or tornado sirens going off.  You would just sit there as I gathered up all the animals and all my favorite belongings (like my NSync cd and disturbing collection of furbies). I never understood why you didn’t seem to care. You’d just keep reading or writing or balancing the checkbook. Before you died, I dreamt of a tornado hitting our house, you refusing to come downstairs and continuing to do the dishes. I’ve had that dream since you died too.

Mom. I remember how sunny it was the day you died. Or was that the day before? Or the day after? It all runs together. But I remember standing in the driveway thinking, this is not how I pictured this. Shouldn’t it be pouring rain? Shouldn’t the world be flooding with tears? Why does this feel like I’m going to go to sleep tonight and actually wake up tomorrow? How is that kid still riding down the street on his bicycle? How are phones still ringing? Wouldn’t it make sense that when this Earth loses someone as important as you, the world just stops?

But I guess I was wrong about that. I learned that lesson the day you died. I learned it without you. I’ve had to learn a lot of things without you. I had to learn how to pluck my eyebrows and curl my hair. I still pretty much suck at both of them, but I can do it.  I had to learn how to talk to guys without sounding like a complete whacko. I had to learn to not be a complete whacko. I had to learn how to interview for a job, write a professional e-mail, and dress for success.  Although, based on the things you dressed me in during your lifetime—that last one might be for the best.

I’ve stumbled through all these lessons because I have great support. Kudos for having Rikki and I 17 years apart. Who knew we’d end up actually liking each other.  I can hear you in her voice and see you in her strength. I catch myself wondering what it would be like to have you both in the same room again. I think that every time I see Aunt Vickie too. It’s the way she tilts her head when she’s listening and that smile.

I’ve been dealing with a lot of things lately. They are life things that people just have to face as they get older, childhood becomes a thing of the past, and we move forward. I think I’m handling things okay, but it sure would be nice if you could be here. I’m afraid I’ll scare Eric off by word-vomiting everything that young women usually say to their mothers. I’m sure he’s tired of hearing about my cat,  the money I saved by buying off the clearance rack, and laundry. But seriously, I put a shirt in the dryer today that needed to be hang dried and it was super upsetting.

Eric has asked me before if you two would have gotten along. Frankly, you would have loved him. I’m fully confident that you would be one of those people that would break through to the best part of him in no time at all. He is so funny, witty, and smart. I wish you could see him smile when he’s really tickled about something. It’s the sort of thing kids write home to mom about. See what I did there? Write to mom about…I also know that you would have irritated the crap out of him by calling him unnecessarily and checking in with him regularly. I think that thought delights me the most, but only because it’s sweet in your own way.

I sometimes wonder if you knew your time on Earth was short. Can God communicate that in some way? Is that why every feeling you had seemed so passionate? Happiness, sadness, anger, and love. All of them seemed so intense for you. Is that why you never seemed fazed by impending doom? Perhaps, to you, the thought of sitting through a tornado seemed no more risky than walking out the front door in the morning. Maybe you knew the storm would pass.

When you told me you were dying, you held my hand, and through tears told me, “I’ll always be in your heart.”

 I wanted you to know that’s true. You must have known it was when you told me. I wanted you to know I’m doing just fine. I’m making it through this crazy life. And thanks to other great moms and a lot of prayer, I’m learning the things I need to. There are days I wish you were here in person. Days I wish you could hug me and tell me everything is going to be alright. There are still days I wonder why the world didn’t just stop the day you left us.

The sun will come out tomorrow (or the next day). The phone will ring (likely before I want to wake up). I’ll ride my bike (I’m training for a triathlon , ya know). Life on this Earth will continue. But I’m happy to say that I know, you’ll always be in my heart.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Love,
Katie