Tag: life lessons

It’s Hard, I Don’t Like It

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Casey_bridal shower-6621That’s me in pink.  This was taken a couple of months ago at my daughter’s bridal shower.  I am with my aunt, my daughter, my cousin and her daughter, and my sister.  I’m fat. That is not a criticism of myself.  I’ve been heavy, a big girl, or fat for most of my adult life.  But I’ve always been healthy fat.  I know there are many who believe that’s not possible but it can be done.  I was an athlete in high school and I have always been pretty active, even if it was to prove the fat girl stereotype wrong.  I’m strong.  I eat pretty healthy.  I understand nutrition and continually educate myself.  I really was a healthy fat person.  I had gained and lost weight over the years but pretty much maintained my weight as a large person.  I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t want to lose weight but I was ok being who I was.  But about 5 years ago, things got out of control.

I was going to dance fitness classes and Zumba and on a healthy eating plan.  I went to these classes almost every day.  I had lost about 60 pounds.  Then I messed up my knee and had to have surgery.  Then I had a hysterectomy.  If you are not already aware, a hysterectomy throws you right into menopause.  Thankfully I didn’t have all the hormonal stuff – no hot flashes or mood swings – but, lucky me, I did get to experience the slowed metabolism and weight gain.  I stopped dancing and I ate whatever I wanted.

Then I discovered I had an incisional hernia from the hysterectomy surgery.  This required an additional abdominal surgery to repair the hernia.  The recovery for that was even worse than the hysterectomy.  There were some complications and it really took about 8 months before I felt “normal” again.  But I didn’t really feel normal at all.

I had become lazy and ate whatever I wanted.  I like healthy food and continued to eat healthy but I just didn’t care about how much and I didn’t push away from the bad stuff.  I started gaining pounds.  My body started to FEEL heavy.  I had never FELT the heaviness before in my life.  My knees hurt.  I was tired.  I didn’t want to do anything.  I didn’t feel like it.  So I didn’t.

I had built a new house in a neighborhood with a sidewalk.  I told myself I would walk more.  The lies we tell ourselves!  The stairs in my new house are pretty steep.  I curse them every time I climb them.  I’m working from home now so my movement is even less than before.  I gained more weight.

Then I had a couple of things happen.  First, I had a cancer scare.  I had an abnormal pap that showed pre-cancerous cells.  Shhhhhh – no one but a few family members and friends know about this.  I guess it’s out now.  I have been in treatment for almost a year now and the last exam showed no cancer but we are waiting for some lab results to confirm.  Yay.  A cancer scare, even a minor one, will wake you up and make you think about your mortality real quick.

Secondly, I was told I have Hepatic Steatosis – Fatty Liver Disease.  It’s common in obese people and can only be reversed by losing weight, specifically by reducing fat in the diet and exercising.  If not addressed, it could lead to liver cancer or a need for a liver transplant.  Well, that just sucks.  I tried to pretty much ignore it for a few months.  I love my doctor who gently asked if I had considered surgery.  I explained I was wary of surgery after recent experiences but I also knew that I would still have to diet and exercise so if I have to do that anyway, I would prefer to do it on my own without surgery.  He was very supportive, saying “You are smart and know what to do, you can do it.”  But my labs from last month showed elevated liver enzymes and triglycerides.  Dammit.  Recommendation – Low fat for the liver and low carb for the triglycerides – I guess I will only be able to eat vegetables from here on out.  I love vegetables but I cannot be a vegetarian.  Much respect to my many friends who are, I just can’t.

So it’s time to put my big girl panties on and do something.  So, very pissed off, I started to figure this out.  On Wednesday, I started my research.  I have to research and put a plan together.  It motivates me and gives me something to focus on.  I learned on the Today Show this week about The Blue Zones Solution by Dan Buettner.  It’s an extremely interesting book/project about the world’s longest living people in 5 different areas of the world.  One of the things leading to their longevity is the way they eat – mostly plant based, local, fresh, real food.

I went back to Myfitnesspal.com and re-downloaded the app. It works for me and keeps me accountable. I went to the grocery store and bought fruits, vegetables, chicken, non-fat greek yogurt and whole grains.  I ordered The Blue Zone book.  I researched ways to improve liver enzymes through food and healthy methods.  I ordered some turmeric. I added more beans to my pantry.  I was still mad and still defiant about the whole thing but if I must do it, I was ready.

On Thursday afternoon, I told my daughter I was back on a diet.  I don’t really like that term but it’s easy to use in conversation.  She said to me, “All this year I have tried to get you to join me in my diet and you just kept saying NOPE, thanks Mom!” She called me out.  I got a little petulant and said “I know. It’s hard. I hate it! I hate it and I don’t want to do it! It’s hard! You have to be prepared. You have to cook all the time.  It’s hard.”  She countered with “You just find healthy recipes like on skinnytaste.com or Pinterest and it’s not hard.”  I explained the reasons why I must do this now.  And then I reiterated “It’s hard and I hate it!  But I stayed within my calories yesterday and today and I’m doing it.”

I am better today.  I might have been hungry when I said all that.  I am accepting now, or maybe just resigned.  I’m starting slow with a goal of 1 pound lost per week.  I’m determined to go up and down my steep stairs at least 5 times a day.  I made it 3 times today so far.  If I don’t fall down those steep things, maybe they can be used to make me healthy.  And today I added yoga. I used to hate yoga, then I learned a better way of doing yoga and loved it.  I did 40 minutes of an Amazon Prime video for beginners today and was not loving it at all.  Yoga for big girls is different than yoga for skinny girls.  I decided to find an online resource with videos for yoga for plus sized women.  I did and actually found two – Curvy Yoga and Body Positive Yoga.  I think I’m going to love yoga again.

My journey is just beginning.  I’m sure I will write about it here.  Because it really is hard.    And I don’t like it.  But I’m going to do it.

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story?

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2017-03-31 12.47.55For those not addicted to the Broadway musical Hamilton, the title is the name of the final song.  I’m kind of obsessed with Alexander Hamilton right now.  But that is not what this is all about.  The lyric just happened to fit my thoughts for today.

As many things do, this started with a dinner discussion with my daughter and her fiancé who were sharing the story of getting their marriage license this week.  Questions were asked of them to which they had no answers – for one, his father’s birthplace.  By way of a brief explanation, his father was not in his life for most of his life and there has never been a need to have knowledge of personal things.

Discussion turned to my late husband’s birthplace.  She said he was born in Ducktown, Georgia.  He was not. I explained he was born in Copperhill, Tennessee.  I asked her what she put down for me.  She replied, “Clarksville, Tennessee of course”.  I smiled and said, “Murray, Kentucky”.  We all laughed but it really made me think.  Watch out when I start thinking.

Genealogy is my passion.  Historical Records, such as marriage licenses, court records, birth certificates, death records, etc. are validation for researchers that one has the correct information.

It is also a passion of mine to tell stories about our family history.  I want my children and my grandchildren to know something about the people that came before them, both significant and insignificant.  We have family members that influenced American history, who impacted the lives of entire communities, and those that quietly struggled through their daily lives one day at a time and influenced only those directly related to them.  All of them are interesting and important and beloved.  And as long as I tell their stories, they stay alive in some way.

But who is telling my story?  And their Dad’s story?  And their grandparent’s?

So much of what we know about our family history, or any historical figure studied by writers or researchers, comes from stories and letters that were WRITTEN DOWN and saved by someone.  We don’t do that anymore.  We don’t write letters.  Few people keep written journals.  Everything is online or done through emails or text.

We do have Instagram and other social media that will give us what our ancestors did not have – lots of photos.  But what about the stuff going on in their brains and in their hearts?  I want to know about that stuff.  I know a great deal about relatives I never met because I have letters that were shared between them.  I learned of their hopes and dreams and fears.  I learned about their personalities and how they felt about their families and about themselves.  I feel like I knew them.  They are people I care about, even though they were born over 150 years ago and died over 90 years ago.  These things are really important to me.  But maybe not to my kids.  Or maybe just not as important as they are to me.

So what’s the answer?  I’m not sure yet.  My only solution right now?  To write my own story.  I need to figure out how to put aside some time to do that.  Maybe I will periodically do that here.  What have I left out in sharing stories of my childhood?  I feel like it’s well known but maybe not – do my kids even know WHY I was born in Murray, Kentucky?

It’s because my parents met in college at Murray State, got pregnant, got married, and had me there.  My brother was also born in Murray soon after I was.  Our parents struggled as young married college students with two kids but my mother was determined that they would graduate from college and would not drop out.  My dad joined ROTC because the small stipend he got monthly (I think they said $45 per month) would pay for married student’s housing.  My mother asked her father to go to the bank with her to get a loan, even after he told her she needed to give up on college and go be a wife and a mother.  Mom’s parents kept us during the week on their farm in Hopkinsville and we saw Mom and Dad on weekends.  They both graduated against all odds and my dad was obligated to join the Army.  Our family traveled the world and my dad retired as a General at the end of his long career in the Army.  Not what anyone planned but really, does life ever go the way we plan?

Why do I know those details?  My mom shared stories with me.  She wrote letters.  And when my grandfather passed away, she wrote down more details in a speech to be read by my father at my grandfather’s funeral.  She gave me a copy.  She was sharing stories of the type of man my grandfather was but she also shared a little about what kind of woman she became because of his influence.

I love those stories.  It says so much about the determination my mother had in anything she wanted to do.  And it shows the positive influence she had on Dad.  Mom had a quiet, respectful way about her until you told her she couldn’t do something.  But when she made up her mind, get out of her way.  She was the first person in her family to go to college.  And she eventually obtained her Masters Degree.

My story is intertwined with many others.  We all have both individual and a shared history.  We will see where this goes.  Maybe it is me who will Tell My Story.

 

He’s a Great Pumpkin

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kayson-pumpkinThis boy.  He is just . . . wow.  We have so much fun.  How do you explain your grandchild to someone that really doesn’t know him?  No matter what you say, you always sound like the proud grandma with blinders on.  I will admit, I can be that proud grandma on any given day but I typically don’t wear blinders.  I am pretty honest and realistic about my kids and grandson.  But I have been known not to acknowledge the negative and I admit it.

But I’m not here for that today.  I am here to introduce you to this boy.  So let’s just start with Halloween.

A few weeks ago, his mom started talking to him about what he wanted to be for Halloween.  He is obsessed with being a policeman so I thought he would want to wear something along those lines since he already has some dress up clothes for a police officer and a SWAT team member.  They had a few discussions and at some point, he decided that he wanted to be a pumpkin. And then he brought it up again.  A few days later, he mentioned being a pumpkin again so his mom determined he had pretty much made up his mind.  She started looking for what she thought would be an easy costume, a pumpkin/jack-o-lantern.

The thing is, by the time most boys are 4, they want to be an Avenger or Batman or one of the Paw Patrol, a Star Wars character or a ninja, or anything that is cartoon or testosterone driven.  There are not a lot of pumpkin costumes for preschoolers.  So his mom decided to make one for him.  We went looking for materials.  Her fiancé and I just made her crazy with our opinions and suggestions.  She had a plan but she needed us to butt out.  So she went and got the materials and when it was just her and my grandson at home, she made his costume the night before his Fall Festival at school.

He loved it.  He was so excited.  It was totally not what I envisioned and it was totally perfect.  He could not wait to wear it.  He put it on before the festival and showed all his friends.  At one point, one of the little girls in his class criticized his costume and it hurt his feelings a bit.  He shared it with his mom and dad and then moved right on past it.  He had a great time.  And when given the option a few days later to wear his Chewbacca costume/pajamas for Trick or Treating, he wanted to wear his pumpkin costume.

What I love about this is that he made his own choice and did what he wanted to do.  When a friend criticized his choice, even though it hurt, he stuck with it.  I know that will not be the case one day.  A friend will make fun of him and he will cave to peer pressure.  We all have to go through it.  But he’s not there yet, thankfully.  And maybe he won’t.  That would be cool.

 

On This Day

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June 2011_10

I used to write at my first blog, Living The Life of Tere from 2007 until I didn’t anymore.  I was happy there and learned a lot about writing.  My life changed and I was absent from writing about my life, and life in general, for some time. Eventually, I missed it and I started over here.

Every day on Facebook, my feed brings up On This Day.  For those not familiar, it displays your status, photos, and links that you posted on the same date for each of the past years.  It’s interesting to be reminded of the truly random things we share on Facebook, some significant and some that make you wonder why.  And it’s a little weird how we tend to do the same things on the same day in different years.

A few weeks ago, my feed started bringing up my blog posts that were feeding in as Notes.  I remember setting this up but don’t remember when I did it.  It’s been kind of fun because I am seeing the short and the long versions of what was going on in my life over the years.  Thursday’s feed had my blog post about my Dad’s visit to my brother and his family back in 2008.  At the time it was funny and it still is today.  It was about my dad getting food impacted in his esophagus.  Yes, I am aware that does not sound funny but you probably don’t know my family either.  Just read it.  As I look back at it now, Dad having passed away, that event eventually led me to a better understanding of Parkinson’s Disease, the disease that led to my dad’s death in late 2013.

Today’s “note” made me think about my writing and this new blog.  The post was from 2010.  I was attempting to explain my “guardrails” when I started blogging and when choosing what to write about.  Here is an excerpt:

At the time, I made a decision that I would not write about work.  That would just be stupid.  I would also not give details of my children’s lives that might embarrass them at some point.  I only wrote things they would be ok with reading or that their children might read about them later.  I also decided that I would only share personal feelings and thoughts about others that I was okay with that person reading.  Beyond that, everything else was on the table and open for discussion.  I wanted to tell funny stories.  I wanted to be thoughtful.   I wanted to inspire.

It’s a great reminder to me that nothing has really changed.  Those are my rules here also.  It was also the reason I stopped writing that blog.  I could not share without putting my heart into it and my heart was broken.  People I loved had done hurtful things to my family because they were hurt.  At the time, I needed to write about it but I did not want to be hurtful to others.  I wrote on paper to work through it.  I thought about putting it on the blog but decided against it.

I am glad now that I held back and did not cross that line.  Four years later, things are different and getting better.  I am still a little hurt but I’m not angry anymore.  To have had those words out there would not have helped things get better.  And the words would have been there forever.

I first activated On This Day because I thought it was interesting and fun to reminisce a bit about those minor things that happened one year ago, two years ago, six years ago today.  Who knew I would learn lessons?