With this comes people commenting on my appearance (consistently and without fail no matter the situation) and asking me the question "what's your secret?" (Plenty of people have also asked me if I want a cheeseburger.... which is kind of rude, but also yes, I do in fact want that cheeseburger, they're delicious).
I always say things along the lines of "nothing really, just lifestyle changes" but they are persistent in wanting details. Once I start explaining the "details" I usually get to one or two changes in before someone goes, "nope, can't do that!" It makes me laugh, because a year and a half ago I would've said the exact same thing and wholeheartedly meant it.
You see, I didn't set out to lose weight. That was not my goal. Honestly, I didn't have any goals or plans in my mind. I was just at a place in my life where I felt awful. I was mentally, emotionally, physically, and psychologically exhausted. Depression and anxiety do funny things to you. I just didn't feel like me. I couldn't get my mind to slow down and my body didn't even feel like my body. I felt as if I was simply existing instead of living.
My home life was suffering. There were days I didn't even want to get out of bed. So I didn't. My work life was suffering. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn't get my brain to slow down enough to focus. I felt like I was drowning in a pit of black water. Just getting swallowed further and further down into swirling darkness and never knowing if I would get to come back up for air. The worst part was, my amazing husband was more than willing to stand beside me and hold my hand so I didn't have to do it alone.... which meant, I was effectively drowning him too without even meaning to.
But, then one day it was like I was struck by lightning. That's the only way I know how to describe it. Just sudden and out of nowhere, it hit me. I had a beautiful life. I have a husband that adores me, pups that depend on and love me, and a whole life to live whichever way I choose. While losing Momma was the hardest and most devastating thing I've ever dealt with in my life, I started thinking about it in a different way. Yes, losing her was catastrophic, but then again, I was fortunate enough to have her for almost twenty-nine years of my life. That's not near long enough, in my mind at least, but I'm still forever thankful for it. I get to live the rest of my life, however long that may be, with the fact that I had the most amazing woman be my mother and nothing can take that away. And with that realization, came the rest. She wouldn't want me wallowing in this pit. In fact, she would kick my ass for it.
I wanted to do better. I wanted to feel better. I simply wanted to be better.
So, I tried as hard as I've ever tried at anything in my life. I applied myself like I never have before. All that determination and stubbornness and recklessness within that has managed to get me through life, yeah, I tried to use all that too. And I found once I started accepting that it was ok to make changes and try new (or old) things, no matter how strange someone might think they would be, I felt so much better. After that came the realization that I was in fact a grown ass woman and I didn't have to answer to anyone other than myself. I'm the one that decides what kind of person I'm going to be and how I'm going to live my life. And let me tell you, if you've never had this epiphany and whole-heartedly accepted it, you are missing out. Because, damn, did it feel good to take that pressure off my shoulders and that weight off my chest.
I stopped taking all the medicine the doctor had me on: I had been on hormones and meds for insulin resistance for quite a few years and when I lost Momma, we both felt like I needed to be on something to help try and control my depression/anxiety/sleeping patterns. I was a mess. It was like I couldn't function while taking all of that medicine, but I didn't feel strong enough to live without it either. It wasn't an addiction kind of thing, it was more of a fear situation. I was scared. I was honestly afraid that if I felt that terrible while taking the medicine that was literally designed to help with this, how was I going to feel if I went off of it?
I've dealt with fear in my life and I think it's dumb when people say "I'm not afraid of anything!" But, I've also never ran away from fear. My entire life, if I've been afraid of something, I've always faced it head on and let the consequences lie where they may. Fear was not something I had a problem dealing with until that point in my life. And at that point, it was all I could think about. But once again, I found myself tired. I was simply tired of fearing my own mind. So, I took the medicine and worked on other things in my life until I felt I was mentally strong enough to do it on my own. And while it may sound strange, I was thankful to have had the help when I needed it. I didn't want to ask for help in the first place, but my doctor, being the amazing human being she is, saw I needed it and helped however she could.
Then one day, I felt it. I just felt.... ok with the decision. I still had fear, but I accepted that I could face it. So.... I did. I stopped taking all of my medicine. I wanted my body to feel like my body again. I decided to stop taking all of my medicine and just let my body do what it was going to do on its own. I knew it was risky and against all advice, but I decided to take my own advice and follow my gut. Afterall, my gut is what has always helped with facing my fears in the past. And for the first time in a very long time I made the decision to face it and let the chips fall where they fell.
I stopped drinking: I know, I know. I originally didn't see this one coming either. But in all honesty, quitting drinking was so much easier than I ever thought it would be. I got to the point that I was drinking too much. I knew it, my husband knew it, and every person around me it felt like knew it. I wasn't using alcohol as a way to relax or unwind, I was using alcohol as a way to suppress dealing with everything I needed to deal with. It was easier to have a few drinks than look at myself in the mirror, because when I looked in the mirror, I didn't like the person looking back at me. Hell, I didn't even recognize her. It was easier to have some shots than it was to accept the fact that I had to rearrange my whole life. I was drinking to the point it was becoming a problem and that right there is what stopped me. I didn't want to be a miserable alcoholic that didn't know how to make decisions in their own life. I didn't want to put more struggle on top of all my other struggle. Instead of alcohol being fun it became something I thought I needed to have copious amounts of every single day in order to function.
Except, I wasn't functioning. Not at all. I was merely going about my existence with alcohol as a crutch. And I didn't like that. I didn't like that I felt like I should drink just to deal. So.... no more drinking. Sure, I had a shot of celebratory gummy bears at our Christmas party last year, but it felt good. Not the shot, it was horrendous, but the fact that I could have a celebratory drink and that's all it was. I had one and didn't feel the need to have anymore. Because now when I look at alcohol, I don't have any desire to drink it. I remember all the mornings I would wake up feeling like shit, and all the days I would think to myself "just a few more hours until I can have a drink." It wasn't a good or fun way to live my life and I finally decided enough was enough. One morning D and I literally woke up, looked at each other, and were like "ok, we're done." And that was that.
I had my top row of teeth removed and replaced with a plate: I have had dental problems my entire life. It's never been one of those things where you have a little toothache, go to the dentist for a filling, and then you're good to go. No, my toothaches were always to the point of exposed nerves and broken teeth. It was to the point of melt down frustration. Why? Mostly because I've always had good oral hygiene. Throughout my entire life I have brushed my teeth twice a day, flossed regularly and used mouthwash. But, did my teeth care that I tried so very hard to maintain and be nice to them? Hell no. They were ungrateful brats. I was in constant pain and once again.... tired. After losing one of my front teeth, because it quite literally decided to fall out of my face for no reason whatsoever, enough was enough and I made an appointment with a whole other dentist.
I talked to D about my options, because you know, he's my husband and we talk about everything and he was nothing but supportive. I didn't want to be thirty-two years old with dentures, but I also didn't want to live the rest of my life in agony. I put a little thought into it and made the choice. And let me tell you, while this has not been an easy process whatsoever, the fact that I'm not in constant pain is more than worth it. I had actually forgotten what it was like to not have a toothache and to say that I feel better all around with this being done would be an understatement. Sure, it was emotional and there were many things I had to come to terms with, but once I decided to make this choice for me and not care about other peoples opinions on the matter, it was without a doubt, worth it.
My eating habits changed on their own: I know some of this has to do with having the majority of my teeth removed, but honestly I think it has more to do with aging and mindset. You see, I used to eat just because someone told me I was supposed to or because I was bored. I would eat three meals a day because you're "supposed to" and I would snack all the other times of the day, because snacks are delicious. I wasn't eating healthy or unhealthy foods, I was just eating all the foods. Now, not so much. I only eat when I'm hungry or feel like having a snack. I don't let people tell me my eating habits are wrong or that I'm not going about it correctly. My stomach is extremely sensitive, not with gross stuff/gag reflex, but more sensitive to the foods/drinks I put on it and especially in the early mornings. At night, if I don't feel like eating or having anything heavy throughout the day, I don't. Or, if I feel extremely hungry, then I will eat all day everyday. It really is just dependent upon how I'm feeling. I let my body tell me what it wants or needs and I go from there.
I stopped drinking so much soda. In fact, now it's pretty rare for me to drink legit soda. The carbonation was making my stomach feel like I was being weighed down and I'm assuming all of the sugar wasn't making me feel too great either. Now, it's mostly juice, coffee, Gatorade. I'll still have a soda on occasion like when we eat out or something, but we don't even really buy it much for the house anymore, with the exception of the occasional Pepsi. Speaking of eating out, we don't do that as much either. We were eating almost all of our meals via takeout, because I couldn't convince myself to get up and cook. D cooked, but he was also exhausted, so we just went the easy route. And dude, did our stomachs not like that. So... cut way down on fast food. I also drink a shit ton of milk. When I got my teeth pulled, D introduced me to this breakfast essential shake thing that has protein and a shit ton of vitamins in it and I drink one of those almost every single day. Sometimes, those are my meals. And I don't feel down about that or care if other people think it's not enough. It feels like enough and that's good enough for me.
I lay in bed sometimes for twenty minutes or more when I first wake up: I was at the point in my life where getting out of bed seemed like the most daunting task I had ever encountered. I wanted to lay there and watch the world pass me by, not caring if I was involved in it or not. There were times I couldn't even drag myself out of bed to pee, let alone function as a normal human being. So, I just laid there and let my mind go and go. But once I started changing things in my life and was no longer accepting the fact that everything was passing me by, I realized that my bed was a place for comfort, not hiding. My bed is the place where I lay my head at night, surrounded by my husband and our pups and get to shut everything else off. It's where we get to laugh and hang out. We watch tv, read books, play games. We get to cuddle, love each other, and talk about our days.
No matter how much better I try to do and am doing, I still have days where it feels like it takes everything in me to actually get up. So, I don't force myself. I ease myself. I wake up and I'll lay there and think, or I'll read, maybe work out some stuff that's going on up there and try to sort some of my thoughts out. I never realized what people were talking about when they said you had to take care of your mental health, but I very much get that now. I wake up earlier than I have to on weekdays so I have the time to contemplate or have an extra cup of coffee. I take that morning shower even though I just had one the night before and I do whatever I can to make myself feel good. Maybe that's shaving and lathering myself up in lotions or oils or maybe it's standing in my kitchen in complete silence and just taking some breaths before the rest of the world wakes up to join me.
And that doesn't just apply to mornings. I used to hate getting in my bed, because it felt like I might never get out, but now I enjoy it. I like getting out of the shower and airdrying my hair so I can then snuggle down in our blankets, fan going full blast and watch tv with D and our pups. Instead of finding it dreadful, I find it calming and serene. I decided early on in this process that in order to feel like me again I had to do the things that I enjoy. And I've always enjoyed taking care of myself. So, I use those lotions and get the conditioner I want because it has that amazing smell and I cuddle up in our bed and lay my head on my husband and sleep.
I started stretching and moving around more: Sometimes with depression, your body hurts for no reason at all. I had a continuous ache about me. Still do at times. No matter what I say or do, no matter how much rest I get, sometimes I just feel down. But, I've learned that's ok. Because while I might be a little achy, it's at least better than it was. Maybe I am sore or feel "off" but at the start of everyday I think about all the amazing things I have in my life and at the end of the day I'm grateful for them. My head is always full and going a mile a minute and sometimes my body has a hard time trying to keep up. And that's ok too. Sometimes I just have to give myself a little grace and be ok with it.
I've found that stretching and moving about has helped in more ways than I could imagine. I don't have a full exercise routine, nor do I work out on a regular (or at all) basis. However, I do stretching, because it helps me feel like I'm in a more pleasant place. I move around more, because I don't force myself out of bed and dread the entire day ahead. I now face my soreness or the fact that I feel weak or disoriented. I don't run from it, but instead try to find ways to be more comfortable with it. I know it's coming and obviously I'm not going to stop it, so if I can't stop it, why not find a solution to it being so miserable?
I became ok with being the introverted homebody: So many people have insisted over the years that I need to get out more. I was made to believe that I was weird or lazy for simply enjoying staying at home. Even if I was doing things, it wasn't good enough, because I wasn't "out." Well, guess what? I went out into the real world and it fucking sucked. People won't stop being horrible to each other and quite frankly, you don't know if you're going to make it home by the end of the day if at all. Coming to terms with "this is my life and I'm the one that's going to live it how I see fit" is a truly blessed thing. I enjoy my home and all the comfort it brings me. D and I have worked very hard to turn our house into our home and we've done an amazing job at it. I feel nothing but calmness wash over me whenever I walk inside. It's unorthodox to say the least, but then again, so are we. Our house screams "us" and there's a peacefulness about it that makes me smile.
I stopped caring what other people thought I should be doing and started doing exactly what I wanted. D helped me with that. One day I was in tears, because I was frustrated and just didn't understand. He simply looked me dead ass in the eye and said "sweetheart, fuck em, we're living this life for us and each other, why would we care what other people have to say about it?" And guess what? That silver-tongued motherfucker was right. It didn't matter. At the end of the day, it really didn't. It affects no ones life other than our own if I choose to stay home and binge Stranger Things or rewatch episodes of It's Always Sunny for the umpteenth time.
I don't like being in large crowds and my anxiety spikes everytime I think about having to be in one. Hell, the thought of going to the grocery store is sometimes overwhelming, so why add more to the problem? I quite literally go from home to work and the grocery store and that's it. Sure, there are exceptions like when I take one of our pups to the vet, have a dentist/doc appointment, or something like that. But for the most part, I keep it simple. I like love being home and I don't feel bad about that. I don't feel bad about not going out to events or on dates. My husband and I have our date nights in our house and I love it all the more. I finally accepted the only person that gets to decide if the way I live my life is good... is me.
If someone is nasty in my life, snip snip snippity snip, motherfucker: As you can probably guess at this point, I've evolved into not really caring for others opinions on me or the way I live my life. I've never cared all that much, but once depression and anxiety got ahold of me, it exacerbated the issue. I used to be a bit of a people pleaser. Not to the point of being a pushover (maybe some?), but I would go out of my way thinking that I was a bad person if I didn't live up to other expectations. And you know what? Fuck that. I had no problem cutting people out of my life in the past when they were horrible, so why start now? Or rather, why continue what a horrible event in my life started?
I've come to terms with the person that I am and the person I'm continuing to become. I don't think any of us ever stop changing or growing. My opinions now might differ from what they did ten years ago. Honestly, at the end of the day, I was just tired of not living for me.
I didn't like the way I thought... so I found a new way of looking at the things around me and my life in general. For all the bad that happened, there were so many beautiful things that I had right in front of me.
I didn't like the way I felt... so I changed things about myself and started doing things to improve my self worth. I started acknowledging that my feelings were valid and all consuming and there was nothing wrong with that.
I didn't like the way I looked... so I lost some weight and changed some habits and started to realize that it wasn't selfish of me to take care of myself. It was actually incredibly human of me.
I didn't like the person I had let myself become... so I decided to change it all. I do what I want, when I want, with who I want. I wear what I want, eat what I want, and speak my mind very freely. I hold nothing of myself back and give it my all always.
So, there's my secret.
The secret of how a girl fell into the deepest black void she never could have imagined and came out on the other side. Still damaged and with copious amounts more work to do, but accepting herself and living her life for her. Trying to find happiness in the everyday normal instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Trying to be optimistic, but still realistic with her never-ending parade of sarcasm. Making the decision for herself that her opinion is the one that matters on her life and if other people don't like that, they can kick rocks. Doing what needs to be done for her and her family to live a good life together.
And trying, while sometimes seemingly failing but picking herself back up again and again, to be the strong and confident within her self woman that her Momma raised her to be and her husband knows she is.
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