love is the answer, and it starts with me.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction ... The chain reaction of evil - hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars - must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.

I've been trying to find the way to fit the words together in the proper way to talk about "the situation" that seems to be engulfing America right now (and no, I'm not talking about the election). I've been trying to figure out where I stand on the race war, the racial situation. I've been seeking to understand. This post is the result of these efforts. It's probably going to come out messy, I'm most likely going to say something the wrong way- but I've avoided discussing the issue for far too long, and I'm trusting that God and others will forgive me for anything that goes misunderstood. Grace not perfection.

I'm beginning to realize that the answer to all of this is love. It's about loving our neighbor as if he (or she) was ourself. In Matthew, Jesus was asked what the greatest, what the most important commandment of them all was- his answer was simple and it summed up the ten commandments quite succinctly. First, you should love the Lord your God with all of your heart, all of your soul, all of your mind (basically- all of your everything). Secondly, you should love your neighbor as you love yourself (as if we were in their shoes, as if they were us/we were them, we were on their side of the situation).

This makes me think of something that my Mom used to always tell me: You can only control your own actions. I only have power over myself and what I do in a given situation. I cannot control all of the evil out there in the world- honestly, there is enough evil within myself and it's hard enough for me to control that. I don't have to take on the world- I can't take on the world- I can only be responsible for myself. Change starts here, in the small place inside of ourselves, and when we live it out, it can (eventually) change the world. A giant fire starts with a single spark. A journey to the top of the highest mountain begins with a single step (yes, I'm quoting motivational posters here- you get the idea?).

I think its clear to anyone that reads the news these days that there is evil in the world. There is darkness, hate, violence. The thing about all of these things is that they seem to build on each other. An act of hatred happens (racial shooting), an act of violence occurs in response (riots and looting at a protest), which results in mistrust of a community (police), which can cause darkness (retaliation against the police community as a whole, not just the racist that started the cycle), which results in fear, which results in more acts of hatred and violence and mistrust and darkness and fear as the cycle repeats itself over and over again.

So, how can we stop the cycle? To be totally and completely honest, I haven't figured out a magical perfect answer yet. But, I can make a baby step. I can take a tiny step in the right direction to stopping the cycle by controlling what I do as a part of the cycle. I can choose to not partake in the actions that add to the cycle. I can choose to love my neighbor (even though all my neighbors are Middle Eastern and not African American, I still feel like this is an okay step in moving towards colorblindness). I can choose not to fear a situation just because the color of someone's skin. I can try and be aware of what I am doing and how it may affect others (even if it wasn't my intent to cause harm/hatred/provoke fear). I can try my hardest to raise my daughter to not immediately identify her friends as "black" or "hispanic", but rather as "This is my friend. She likes dinosaurs."

There will always be people out there that are evil and want to do harm to others- that is the world we live in. Way back in the days of Adam and Eve, sin entered the world and things were never the same. Things will not be the same, the world will not be without death and dying and evil and hate until the Day of the Lord. I cannot force others to love their neighbors. But, I can start with evaluating my actions, and maybe, just maybe, it will be enough to spread to the people that I encounter in my life, maybe it will be enough to slow the cycle, maybe it will be enough to see just a small change in somebody's world.

the lie of not enough

I feel like sometimes we like to blame Eve for all of our problems. Sometimes, I think that she's the most hated woman of the Bible. I mean, if it wasn't for her believing that silly little lie from the serpent, we'd still be living in paradise (and we'd have NO pain in childbirth. Seriously Eve, what were you thinking?). We like to blame this women for messing up the world (and causing us to have pain during childbirth...SERIOUSLY EVE. I don't know if I can ever forgive you for that one). We blame her for believing the serpent, we like to pretend that we wouldn't have done the exact same thing in that situation, but the truth is...Satan isn't all that creative. He knows that what worked all those years ago can still mess us up big time today. All this time, since the beginning of time, we've been fed the same lie over and over and over and over again. The serpent whispers softly in our ear just like he did to Eve on that day long ago. He seductively dangles a fruit in front of our hungry eyes and lures us away from the truth. He tells us that who we are is not enough. From the days of childhood, he whispers this thought into our ear over and over again. It begins to seem so natural, a part of our inner being that is so engrained, such a part of who we are that we no recognize this fruit as dangerous or harmful. Just like a Pooh Bear being drawn to his pot of Hunny...we're helplessly, hopelessly lured into the trap and we believe the lies.



As little girls, we believe the lie that everyone in this class is better than us. In ballet class, they're better at the pirouettes. At the playground, they're better at the monkey bars. Some other little girl's dress is prettier and more twirly than ours. At a very young age, we begin to compare our bodies and our clothes and we believe this lie that is whispered to us that we are not pretty enough. The belief that we would somehow be a "better" version of ourselves if only we were smarter, faster, taller, smaller begins flicker in our tiny brains, slowly becoming the very center of our thoughts. As we grow older, these lies continue and morph and spin out of our control. In Middle School, we spend hours obsessing over how to tame our frizzy hair, how to paint on a pretty face, how to put up a facade that everyone will fall for. We spend so much time worrying about being smart enough to make the grade, athletic enough to make the team. We base our entire existence on being accepted by this invisible audience. We play a role, dancing and twirling around the stage. We try and we try, but we just end up exhausted, collapsing in a heap in the middle of the stage with the spotlight shining straight on us. And there we lay. Vulnerable. Weary. Overwhelmed. The serpent whispers in our ear "Darling, you will never be enough. God is hiding something from you, you're just not good enough for him. Trust in me, I won't fail you. I won't hide the magic cure from you. Take this fruit...and eat.". And just like Eve, we fall for his trap.

He's an awfully good manipulator. We believe his lies with all of our heart. We live a life of fad diet after fad diet. We restrict what we eat, and punish ourselves when we eat "bad foods". We run after this false ideal of perfection- if I just reach this weight, if I just can wear this pants size, if I can just get noticed by someone...I will be enough. But, the fact of the matter is...nothing you do will ever be "enough". You might reach that goal weight, but the serpent will whisper in your ear "Just five more pounds". You might suddenly be able to squeeze into your "skinny day jeans", but the serpent will whisper to you "You're still not enough. See that muffin top? So unattractive". He'll plant lies into your head:

• If you eat that, you're going to get fat.
• If you get fat, nobody will like you.
• You seriously just ate that? Go throw that up. You know the drill. You don't deserve "it".
• So what if they say you're skinny? Behind your back, they're probably whispering about how ugly and fat you are.
• If you just lose some weight, you'll have more friends.
• You don't fit into this playgroup with all of these pretty, wonderful women.
• You'd look more attractive if you just had a salad for lunch. Real women don't eat.
• If only you were skinny, your husband would love you more. You don't want him to leave you for some other more beautiful woman, do you?
• If people knew about your past, they'd be gone.

LIES. All of them. This serpent that we allow to linger in our lives is a terrible, horrible friend. He's not looking out for our best interests. He's a toxic and abusive relationship that we choose to remain in- yes, we choose to stay with this terrible one. Why? We find comfort and security in him. Even though he treats us horribly, he still sticks around. And, it's not really that bad, right? I mean, losing a little weight isn't a horrible thing. It's not bad to work hard to achieve success in academic endeavors. We rationalize our "dear friend"and his horrible behavior. The serpent whispers seductively in our ear, "I won't hurt you. I only want what's best for you. Trust in me." But, it is time to fire back. It is time to tell that serpent who's boss. We need to stand up and be assertive and tell him, "Nope. Not gonna listen to you. Not gonna trust you." Will he like this? Probably not. But, that's where we can change our story and stop the lies.

In the story found in Genesis, Eve falls for the serpent's trap. She ate of the fruit and then she felt ashamed. Rather than getting up and confessing her sin, she stays trapped in her shame and guilt. She made clothing out of fig leaves to cover up all she had done. She saw that she had been lied to, but she didn't run away from her serpent friend. She rolled around in her shame and guilt and let it consume her. She decided that she would rather stay trapped in the "comfortable terrible" than face God and say goodbye to the serpent. We can learn a lot from this. True freedom means finding freedom from these chains that have bound us, all of these lies that we have believed. This means that we have to acknowledge that we had a thought (such as, "I am not pretty" or "I am broken" or "I am unlovable"), and then move on from that thought. Thoughts are not fact- lots of them are lies. We need to let go of these false thoughts. They're just holding us back.

Here's the thing: God loves you, no matter what you've done in the past. Our entire faith is based around the principle that we do not have to be enough, in fact we alone CANNOT EVER be enough. There's this not-so-tiny concept called grace. We celebrate the various liturgical seasons (Christmas, Lent, Easter) to remember all of what Christ has done for us. If we were "enough", if we had EVER been "enough", he wouldn't have had to come down to this crappy planet when he could have been partying it up with God in Heaven. But, he chose to die for us. While the serpent whispers in our ear, "You will never be enough", Christ tells us that it is okay for us to not be "good enough". In Romans, it says that ALL have fallen short of the glory of God. But, that is why Christ died for us! It's this wonderful thing that we need to celebrate! We do not have to be enough. We don't have to live up to unrealistically high standards. We are beautiful just the way we are, because we are made in the image of God and he loves us! We don't have to live in the embrace of the serpent any longer. You can choose to walk away from that abusive relationship and start a new journey on the path of freedom. Freedom from the lie of "not enough". Free from the lie of "if I just lose five more pounds." Free from the lie of "if I just make the grade, make the team". John 3:16-17 reveals this wonderful truth:

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

We are free. We are free from these unrealistic, unattainable lies that have taunted us since the day that we came into this world. God didn't send his Son to condemn us. Jesus didn't come to Earth, see us in all of our brokenness and say "Ain't nobody got time for that!" and walk away. No.

He came to heal.

He came to restore.

He came to bridge the gap so that we could be forgiven and have eternal, everlasting life!

You are enough to him. Let that sink in for a moment. You. Are. Enough. For. Him. If you were the only one on this planet, he still would have chosen to come down here to save your soul. You don't have to lose five pounds to gain his acceptance. You don't have to pretend to have it all together for Him to gain his acceptance. You don't have to be the prettiest, smartest, or most outgoing to gain his acceptance. He loves you for you, not for what you have done or what you will become. All he requires is that we love Him with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength...and that will be enough.

Fighting the "Shoulds" and the "Mommy Docs"

This whole "becoming a mom" thing isn't the easiest of jobs. Being a first time mom, I have so many questions, and I'm a perfectionist- thus, I feel like if I don't do every single thing the exact right way- I'm probably going to screw up my child. I'm constantly second guessing myself. 

Are we feeding her too much? Are we feeding her too little? Is she gaining enough weight? Is she gaining too much weight? I should know this kind of stuff. I'm her mom- this is my job. Hey, what is this? Is this a diaper rash? How often am I supposed to change her diaper anyways? Is this diaper breaking her out? Do we need to buy the expensive diapers? Or maybe we should switch to cloth? Do these diapers still stink? Am I burping her enough? Why is she spitting up so much? Is it something I'm doing? Is this because I chose not to breastfeed? I should have breastfed. She's going to have attachment issues because I didn't love her enough to breastfeed her. I should have worked harder. I should have wanted to breastfeed. What kind of mom plans on formula feeding? When should we start cereal and baby food? Do we wait until four months or six months? I don't want to give my kid a peanut allergy. But, she seems like she wants to eat now. She's only two months old. How do I hold off for four more months? Do we use commercial baby food or make our own? Baby led weaning? I'm supposed to let my kid feed herself? Am I doing tummy time enough? Are we being social enough? Are we raising her to be too introverted? What are we doing? What SHOULD I be doing?

It all begins to get a little overwhelming, and I begin to "should" on myself as a former psychologist I saw would say. The shame spiral begins and I spiral away into the land of things that I think that I "should be doing", that I "would be doing if I was a good mom". I begin to convince myself that I'm terrible horrible mother (which does absolutely no good, by the way). So, then I go to the internet to research and try to find out all of the things that I "should do" to be a "good mom". But, due to the obsessive nature I have, I take all of the writings of the "mommy doctors" super-psycho-seriously and convince myself that I'm an even-more-terrible-horrible mom. I mean, what kind of mom would consider feeding their kid anything but pure breastmilk? That formula stuff is just poison. I'm setting my kid up for a life of obesity and allergies. And...the shame spiral spirals again.

This process just repeats itself over and over again until I just want to be sick. To make things more fun, different sites have different information. Different organizations, different countries- they all recommend different things. Feed your kid this. Don't feed your kid that. Wait until four months to feed your kid. Wait until six months. Wait until they can cook their own filet mignon. Feed your kid rice cereal. Avoid all gluten. Give your kid a PB&J. Start with applesauce. Start with vegetables or your kid won't like them because they taste bad, so they won't ever eat them and they'll only eat sugar and then they'll get ADD/ADHD/Austism and DIE. Do you want a dead kid? I didn't think so. Never ever let them taste the wonderful deliciousness of natural sugars. It just gets exhausting. 

I think I've decided to move on past the mommy doctors, though. They don't have an MD after their name- their only qualification is that they had a kid before me and they think that they know everything. In all honesty, I think I'm moving past a lot of the doctor-doctors as well. They might have an MD after their name, but many of them are fear mongering monsters that are being paid of by organizations to say a certain line of thinking. You can get "research" to prove almost anything these days. When one pediatrics group says research says that you must hold off on solids until six months and then two months later decides that four months is the magical threshold and then decides that it's actually twelve months, I have to question things. I have to question ones' motivation for speaking on the matter.

In the end, I'm Sarah's mommy. T is Sarah's daddy. God gave us brains and we were made to use them. Just because something is right for one child doesn't mean that it is right for all of them. I'm not a bad mom just because I gave Sarah a taste of chocolate froyo when she was six weeks old. Or that lick of a pretzel when she was two weeks old. Or letting her nom on pizza crust just after a month old. Nothing bad happened. She didn't die. In fact, she gave me a pretty cute, gummy smile. She will let us know if she's hungry. She'll scream if we aren't feeding her enough. If we want to give her a taste of something (within reason), we will. If she starts grabbing or reaching for food, we'll start giving her food. We don't need a group of "doctors" or doctors to tell us when to do these things- it's a basic human instinct. When I feel it in my "mommy gut"- I'll know that its the right thing to do. I don't have to feel guilty because we formula feed- it was the best choice for Sarah, and all of the involved parties (myself, T, Sarah's pediatrician, my OB) agreed that it was was needed to happen after she was born. I'm not less of a mom because I don't provide her with milk from my breasts- I give her the food she needs with the nutrients she needs, she's thriving- we are all good! 

Obviously, feeding your kid real poison is bad. Doctor's recommendations need to be taken into consideration. But, here's the deal- doctor's recommendations are just that- recommendations. I'm the mama. Within reason, I get to make these decisions. So make them I will. Don't try to make me feel guilty- as of this moment, I'm not giving the "mommy doctors" that kind of power over me, my happiness, or my child. I'm putting those critical thinking skills, those decision making skills to work and deciding what is best for my child. And if that means formula, so be it. If that means rice cereal, so be it. If it means feeding her tastes of food at two months, so be it. If it means not depriving her of the yummy foods of life, so be it. I'm the mommy. I make the decisions.

Sarah Claire's Birth Story

We had a baby!

Sarah Claire decided to make her entrance into the world about four weeks early, so we've spent the last two weeks snuggling with a cute baby that squeaks and hiccups. I decided it was about time to write out her birth story, but that's where things get interesting. You see, I don't really remember my child's birth thanks to a mixture of preeclampsia and a lovely drug called Magnesium Sulfate (it's not really all that lovely). So, with some help from my husband and looking through pictures that I have no memory of being taken...the birth story.

It all started on a Saturday.

I was having contractions (nothing new about that- I'd been having Braxton Hicks since I was about 6 weeks pregnant) that were starting to pick up in intensity and becoming closer together (about 5 an hour) along with a terrible headache. When I called the birthing center on base where I received my prenatal care, they were a bit worried about the headache, so they told us to come on in and get checked out. While I was there, we ruled out preterm labor, but my blood pressure was on the high side, so I was diagnosed with gestational hypertension and told to come back on Monday for a Non-Stress Test (which come to find out can be pretty stressful).

That Monday, T and I went to base for my NST. We planned on it being a pretty short event- it was supposed to take about 20 minutes, then we would be on our way and I'd hang out on base while T went to class. We joked about the baby deciding to come that day, since it was February 29th and she'd probably like to be dramatic with her entrance. The test went fine, but as I started to get up, I got really dizzy and my headache got worse, so they took me over to Labor and Delivery for observation to see if we could figure things out. We decided it was probably a migraine, probably not preeclampsia, possibly allergies...but they kept me overnight, just in case. I went home, still with a terrible headache that wasn't really controlled by medication, but we thought that the worst of it was over. I was having a bit of anxiety and overwhelmed feelings, so my mom decided that she would come up for a few days and see if a short visit helped these feelings. She got into town on Wednesday night, and that's when things got interesting.

Early Thursday morning, I began experiencing more contractions. I waited a few hours, but they weren't going away, so I decided to wake T and we went in to Labor and Delivery again. I woke my mom and told her that she could just stay home, because I was 99.9% sure that this was a false alarm...but my anxieties just needed to make sure that everything was okay.

It wasn't.

Once again, it wasn't my contractions that were alarming- it was my blood pressure. This time, my blood pressure was in the 160s-180s (we think- I don't actually remember too much from this point onward, so I'm depending on my husband for the details) so I immediately was placed on magnesium, a terrible horrible catheter was inserted (seriously- it was a traumatic experience- it took three people ten minutes to figure out what they were doing), and since I was only 35 weeks 5 days (and shy of the 36 week mark that they require to deliver on base), I was sent downtown to a larger hospital with a NICU. I'm told that I accidentally kicked a full bird colonel when he lightly touched my knee to tell me that it would all be okay and that they'd take great care of me down at Miami Valley- my reflexes were pretty active.

An ambulance ride later (in the snow, of course), we settled in at our new hospital and I was told that not only were they trying to get my blood pressure down- they were also going to start inducing labor and we would not leave the hospital without a baby. I don't think I grasped the seriousness of the situation (and I wouldn't until about a week later when I finally got my wits about me again, got off of magnesium, and talked to my mom about everything). Apparently, I was in the L&D ICU, but I was pretty out of it (as I've mentioned many times). Over the course of three days, I think that we tried just about every single induction method. It was terrible. I felt terrible. Everything hurt and no progress was being made. Finally on Saturday, we started to see little bits of progress and they broke my water. Sometime that day, I got an epidural (which kind of worked, but I still felt things that I wasn't supposed to feel...). I began to get increasingly frustrated and begged for a c-section- I just wanted it to be over, because it was a miserable experience. Over and over again, the doctors and nurses urged me to give it "just a little longer", telling me that a vaginal delivery would be less painful and the recovery would be easier.

And then things began to happen very very fast. 

At one check I was a seven.

Then, things got very very painful and urges to push this baby out right now happened.

Forty minutes after hearing that I was a seven, I was a ten and the baby was coming.

Fifteen minutes and two contractions later at 12:27 AM on March 6th, 2016 (Sunday), our Sarah Claire entered the world.

I was very worried.
Many of the doctors that I had seen had told me that most likely Sarah would be going to the NICU after she was born. She didn't cry as she entered the world and as T would tell you, she looked quite gray and alien-like (I'm sparing you guys the pictures mostly because she's nakkie and I don't think she'd appreciate me showing the internet those things, but also because it's kind of creepy seeing your baby look that drugged up). She was a little slower to "wake up" as I'd been on magnesium for several days, but eventually she gained some color and even scored a 7 on her five minute Apgar. Our 5 lb 11 oz, 36 weeker surprised everyone by not going to the NICU- she actually did much better than her Mommy (who we think hemorrhaged during labor based on blood loss and what the doctors were doing...but I guess I was at a pretty awesome hospital for delivery, because I didn't have to have a blood transfusion and the doctors stayed pretty calm through it all).

 I was kept on magnesium for 24 hours after birth, and then monitored for 24 additional hours to see how my blood pressure did. My mom stayed with me for many of these hours as T was in the midst of finals and final projects (we like to say that Sarah picked the absolute worst week of the semester to come). Even off of the magnesium, I still don't remember much of Sunday or Monday. I was very swollen from all of the fluids, so I was stuck in a hospital gown for much of the time as none of my clothes fit. I remember being weighed on the Sunday morning after I delivered and weighing 189 pounds- I weighed about 180 the week before at my Non-Stress Test- and that was after delivering the baby and all of that jazz. There was that much fluid on me.

Finally, on Tuesday morning, we got to go HOME!

 Of course, the "excitement" doesn't end there.

After one night at home, I was back in the hospital (this time on base). On Wednesday afternoon, I had a blood pressure check (which of course I failed...). Apparently doctors don't like when you are about 4 days postpartum and the upper number is in the 160s and the bottom number is in the 90s-100s. Who knew.

After another night on magnesium (I really really hate that stuff, even if I did kind of save my life) two lasix treatments, and peeing out EIGHT LITERS of fluid overnight...my blood pressure went down (though I'm still on meds for it), I was much much less swollen, and I felt much better (as in, I could walk and wear shoes and pants). We went out to Panera on the way home to celebrate finally being free from the hospital life. As an added bonus, at my next blood pressure check that Friday, not only was my blood pressure good- my weight had decreased to about five pounds short of my prepregnancy weight- yes, apparently fluid can weigh that much.

At two weeks postpartum, I'm feeling pretty good. My mom has gone home, my husband is on break, and my baby girl is pretty awesome (though she'd be more awesome if she'd quit messing up her days and nights). All in all, we are blessed. Things could have gone so much differently- we could be making trips downtown over the break to visit Sarah in the NICU, but instead we get to snuggle her in her arms. Even though preeclampsia wrecked my birth plans and things turned out wildly different than I imagined it would go (and probably scared me off from having any more babies), I survived and didn't suffer too much irreparable damage- my doctor even says I might be off the blood pressure meds by 6 weeks postpartum. Even T got something good out of it all- with all of the waiting at hospitals, he's apparently caught all of the Pokemon- gotta catch em all, I guess. ;)

And that is the story of how Sarah Claire P entered the world. 

(I think)

Chocolate Chip Banana Muffins

The other day, my husband and I were talking about bananas.

Yes, bananas.

He brought up banana nut bread that his mom used to make when they were growing up, I talked about chocolate chip banana bread that we made in treatment one time- and he was in awe that he'd never thought to combine banana bread and chocolate chips. So, when my former dietitian from that treatment center just happened to post the recipe on her Facebook page, I knew that we'd have to store up some bananas so that we could try this out and my husband could experience the gloriousness of chocolate chip banana muffins.

It took some time to store up the bananas. You see, we both rather like to eat this particular fruit- and so do our puppies. I like them before they ripen too much, he likes them super ripe, the puppies just like whatever we give them. So, having bananas stick around long enough to ripen enough to make banana bread isn't a common thing. But, we bought some extra bananas last time around, I told T that he wasn't allowed to eat two of them, and it all worked out- we had ripened brown bananas and we could make some muffins.

Since they are so so yummy, I thought that today I'd share the recipe on the blog. 

This recipe makes 12 muffins. 12 yummy delicious muffins.

You will need:

• 2 mashed bananas
• 4 T melted butter
• 2 T sour cream
• 1 egg
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1/2 t vanilla
• 3/4 cup flour
• 1/2 t baking soda
• 3/4 t baking powder
• Pinch of salt
• 1/2 cup chocolate chips

These are literally the easiest thing ever to make- combine all the ingredients in a bowl and mix them up. I just mashed my bananas up in the bowl as I mixed everything up- pregnancy can make a girl pretty lazy, you know. :)

The original recipe called for 1/4 cup of chocolate chips, but that just didn't seem like enough for me (Baby likes chocolate). So, I used 1/2 cup...and then poured some more in until Baby seemed happy (very scientific and precise, I know).

Once everything is mixed, spray or grease your muffin ban and bake at 350 degrees for 15-20 minutes.

And then- EAT! As you can tell, I was a little enthusiastic to dig in, so a muffin is missing from the pan...oh well. Baby likes muffins, what can I say?

I'm currently over here trying to convince myself that I can eat these things for every single meal (hey- they have bananas in them, they have to be healthy, right?). I'm honestly not sure how much longer these will be sticking around between a hungry preggo (there's just something about these last few weeks of pregnancy- I'm hungry hangry all the time), a hungry Baby, and a husband that is a garbage disposal. As easy as these are to make though, I'm not complaining! :)

3 Minutes to Save a Life

Looking back, I can see that there were many times during my eating disorder that I "should have" known that something was wrong.

• I should have known that freaking out about a 100 calorie granola bar wasn't "normal eating".
• I should have known that throwing up after I ate wasn't "normal eating".
• I should have recognized that something was up when I suddenly decided to go gluten free for a month.

There are so many more examples I could provide of instances over the years that I "should have" known that something was up. I mean, maybe I was really great at hiding my monsters from others- but I should have known myself, right? How could I have convinced myself for five years (at least...) that everything was okay...when I am the one that knows myself the very best? Maybe it was because my weight stayed in what is considered a generally "healthy" range, maybe it's because I'd "always" been a picky eater, maybe it's because I didn't want to admit that something was up. Maybe it's because I'd always had anxiety and had struggled with body image and self esteem issues since preschool. Maybe it's because we live in a society that has such a perverted way of thinking about food and weight. Disordered eating is even seen as, might I say...normal? Society jumps from fad diet to fad diet. Juicing. Cleanses. Constant battles with the scale and numbers on the inside of our clothing. It's kind of hard to see the line between dieting and disorder when the line is so blurred. 

I remember one specific instance during college when the thought passed through my head that something wasn't right. It was right after my gluten-free "adventure. I was frustrated because I felt terrible and sick and tired all of the time, no matter what I ate. I had taken to eating every meal in my dorm room alone, because I was throwing up most of the time after eating- and that's just "embarrassing". I mean, someone might catch me elsewhere and think I had an "eating disorder" or something. I vaguely remember grabbing my laptop and consulting Dr. Google with my symptoms- I think it came up with either some deadly kind of colon cancer or an eating disorder. I chose to believe that I was most likely dying of terminal cancer, but that I might should do some research on this eating disorder thing. I took one of those self test things on the internet and it told me that I probably did have a problem with eating and that I should consult a professional. I thought about it for about five minutes and then put my laptop away, not to think of it again for several months. I didn't reach out for help, I didn't mention it to anyone, I didn't do anything...after all, I had a degree to complete, an internship to do that summer, and I didn't really believe that I had a problem. 

This week is National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, and the theme is "3 Minutes to Save a Life". The goal is not only to raise awareness for this issue, but to also encourage people to complete a self screening online if they are thinking that they might have an issue with disordered eating or exercise. Eating disorders are potentially life-threatening illnesses and early detection of the signs and symptoms of disordered eating and eating disorders increases a person’s chance for successful recovery.

In addition to encouraging you to take the step to complete the "simple three minute screening"- I'd also like to encourage you to not let it stop there like I did. In reality, the screening is simple- it's confidential, nobody will ever know, and after it's all said and done- you have the choice to deny reality and not act on it. In reality, these three minutes aren't what saves lives- it's the hours and weeks and months and years that come after. It's the reaching out for help, admitting that you are powerless and that you need help. Sometimes I think back and I wonder if I had gone to our campus nurse during the Spring semester when I did the screening instead of waiting until the Fall semester when my life was completely falling apart- would things have turned out differently? Would I have been able to deal with my issues outpatient? Would we have been able to prevent the downhill spiral that happened? I don't know. Shoulding on myself, woulding on myself, and coulding on myself don't help me...I can only live in the present, living moment by moment, doing what I can right now to pursue a life of recovery. But, I can encourage others to reach out for help. I can use my story to possibly prevent someone else from going down the path that I did, and I might can convince someone to take the three minutes to save a life to start them on a journey to recovery.

Please remember,

You don't have to be underweight to seek help.

You don't have to be on your death bed to seek help.

You might not even be totally convinced that you have a problem, but you still can seek help.

You deserve to live a life of freedom.

Three minutes...Click here to get screened.

2015: Year in Review

Yes, I know- it's February. I know that this post comes about a month late (I'm blaming THAT on pregnancy brain), but in an effort to try and maintain some semblance of the blog that I'm imagining in my head that I want this to be, I'm doing my "annual" year-in-review post where I share pictures of the big events from the past year in an attempt to be able to look back later when I'm old and gray and remember the happy memories.

In February, we celebrated our first Valentine's Day, and I spent a few days in the hospital trying to figure out what my body was doing.

In March, we got MARRIED and went on our Honeymoon in Atlanta (speaking of which....did I ever blog THAT either??!).

In April, Easter happened.

I don't think anything happened in May, but lots happened in June!

We put our house on the market (and it still hasn't sold....)

And we took a trip to Texas to visit T's family!

In July, we visited Ohio for the first time and looked for a place to live.

And we adopted Yoda and I turned 25...

And we found out that we were pregnant!

August continued the theme of busy....we MOVED to Ohio!

In September, we visited the Air Force Museum at Wright-Patt...

and then we saw Taylor Swift in Columbus! 

In October, we found out that we were having a baby GIRL!

In November, we decided that pregnancy and one puppy weren't enough...so we added our somewhat-sweet Lucy to the family!

And in December, we celebrated our first married Christmas!

When I look back at all of these pictures, I realize that we had quite the busy year in 2015! Lots of adventures, fun, and laughter...and lots more to come in the rest of 2016! Marriage, travels, a puppy, a pregnancy, a move, another puppy....it was a busy year. If you made it through all of these pictures and ramblings, congrats- it was a lot, even for me! Here's to 2016!