Hills Are Hard

There are all sorts of cliches about climbing hills. I'm sure you've heard most of them. 

"If we all climb together, we could climb the highest hill."
"Life's a climb, but the view is great."
"You can't climb uphill by thinking downhill thoughts."
"There is an uphill for every downhill, and a downhill for every uphill."

And seemingly the most popular hill quote ever, from Nelson Mandela...

"After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb."

Frankly, I'm not really one for motivational sayings. I can do motivational things for others, but like I said above, a lot of this stuff is just cliche. The truth is - CLIMBING UP HILLS IS HARD. Like, a real ball-buster. Bicycling up hills is hard. Just ask this guy. 

I was at the grocery store this weekend and saw a friend who is a fitness guru; someone who trains other people to be healthy. This TINY BAD ASS rode the Barry-Roubaix, the largest gravel road race in the world, on a FAT TIRE bike; a bike that outweighs her by several pounds. Naturally I asked her about biking the hills in Barry County, and how much trouble I was having just getting UP. She told me a story that I'm taking to heart, and sharing with you.

Once upon a time, Tiny Bad Ass was training with another woman to ride the Barry-Roubaix. They were tackling the "Three Sisters," who Barry Countyens know is a killer section of the race that has three huge hills. It's possibly the hardest section of the race, and terrifying to behold. The trainee was finding it impossible to get up these hills, and actually fell several times. (Apparently when you are "clipped in" and lose momentum, you can just topple right over.) Tiny Bad Ass felt completely responsible for this woman's scrapes and bruises, and decided to take a break from training. 

The next time out, the trainee rode alone. When she came to those dreaded hills, she said, "Not this time, bitch." After much struggle, she made it up and over those sisters.

"Not this time, bitch."

In my humble opinion, all those motivational sayings are only empty words coming from posters and calendars, or out of the mouths of people we don't even know. It seems that the most motivation we can offer is that which we give to OURSELVES. I will never have a personal cheering squad, and I know I'm most vulnerable, and more apt to quit, when I'm alone. I'm thinking next time, when I'm failing to get up those hills, I think of the words of that wise and all-knowing sage, and just say, "Not this time, bitch."

My last post, almost exactly two years ago, was about how I was struggling to recover from a slight. I made light of the hurt, brushed off the pain, and poo-poohed my wounded pride. I was flippant by thinking that people who are damaged should "just get over it." Man, I'm such an asshole. 

You see, that's the thing about depression. No matter what successes I may have achieved those years ago, no matter how great I felt after an exercise session, and no matter what good I had done for others, my depression just frickin' pulled me under. And under. I became social. I tried spending more time with my Broads and with other good friends, I started drinking (a lot), but then I just...quit. I was happier laying across my bed, alone in my room, binge watching Netflix, and EATING. 

Nowadays, I still spend time in my room, but a lot less. I get outside, I spend time with dear friends on my own terms, I smell the fresh air, and I laugh. There is so much laughing happening, you guys. If only laughing would burn calories - I'd be like 110 lbs by now.

So here's the reason for my writing you all today. I know you've all heard this before, and I have absolutely no reason to assume that you care, but I am once again walking the line to better health. I'm not doing it for a man (although getting a man would be nice), I'm not doing it for my son (although he would love to have a "skinny" mom), and I'm not doing this for my friends (although they love me, and want me to be healthy). 

I'm doing this for me. Only me this time.

So, I bought a kickass little bike, and I'm training for the Barry Roubaix. I re-joined the gym. I'm counting my calorie intake and making better food choices. More importantly, I'm spending time outside by a fire, in the woods, and flying kites. 

I'm here to kick ass, folks. Watch out.

S@&t Happens

It’s always something, isn't it? There is always some sort of obstacle to throw us off our chosen paths, and detour us on our journey. I figure it’s time to tell ya’ll about my obstacle, and attempt to explain my long absence from Skinny Screamer.

So, my “something” was a man. I am ashamed and embarrassed to admit that my relationship this past spring/summer was more detrimental to my mental health than I originally let on. I started dating this guy casually. I’d known him for years, and always thought he was funny and nice. He contacted me via FB, and we started seeing each other socially. Texting. FB messaging. Talking every day. This is the first time that I had dated anyone for over 7 years, and to me, was a very big deal.

I liked him. Things got physical. He met my kid. That was before he shut me out completely.

I have said to friends that I’ve never been treated with such disdain or disrespect in my life. One day we were talking normally, the next day he stopped texting, calling, and messaging. He BLOCKED me from Facebook on my BIRTHDAY. Through no apparent fault of my own, I had been completely dumped. And it really hurt.

I had already started on my weight loss journey before meeting this guy, but meeting him, visualizing a possible future of happiness and health, became a real motivation for me. I was feeling so great. I was smiling, getting up on weekends to work out, keeping the house clean, cooking, baking, and blogging. Unfortunately, when this man shut me out, it really shut me down. For the last several months I’ve been eating, drinking, and avoiding the gym. I've gained back all the weight I worked so hard to lose.

I am ashamed and embarrassed.

Recently I received two kind messages from friends, just checking in. Catie, Ginger – you are a blessing to me. You both caused me to remember WHY I was working so hard in the first place; not for a man, but for myself. I will never, ever, be able to thank either one of you enough for nudging me.

I’m digging out of my hole, folks. Not for you, but for myself…but I hope you’ll stick with me once again. Guess what? Shit happens. Shit happens, but life goes on.

Fat Jeans

I’m a little fired up this week. I’m a pretty passionate person, but it usually does take quite a lot to push me over the edge. I’m there now, teetering on the precipice.

Here’s the lowdown.

I went to Meijer on Sunday to go grocery shopping. While there I decided to go look for some new jeans. (Don’t judge – girls on a budget have to shop for clothes where they can afford it.) Last year I bought three pair of great fitting, comfortable, and stylish jeans at the Thrifty Acres, and I was hoping to get the exact same jeans this year. I was shocked to discover that not only does Meijer NO LONGER carry the jeans I like, but they also only had ONE BRAND of denim in their plus size section. Wait, WHAT??!! One brand. Three different “styles”.

In disbelief I wandered into the “regular” size section. There were literally HUNDREDS of jeans on display.

Blatant FAT DISCRIMINATION.

Not only that, but there were HUNDREDS of jeans in the MEN’s section as well – even plus size men had several options to choose from. Why can’t Meijer help a sister out?

It really got me thinking about the war against fat people in this fine nation of ours. Unless I shop at “plus size” stores, I have extremely limited options in finding clothes at a store. Sure, I can buy online all I want, but it’s next to impossible to get the right fit without first trying something on. What is really crazy about this whole situation is that I saw SEVERAL other women my size in Meijer that day. Where the heck do all those beautiful, bountiful, luscious women shop?

I understand. According to my doctors I’m “morbidly obese”. I’m working on it, but I do need some stuff to wear in the meantime. (That doesn’t include sweatpants and big t-shirts, the fat person staples.) When the majority of our country is overweight by a few pounds, why is it so hard to find clothing that is of good quality, well-made, and at a reasonable cost? I REFUSE to stuff myself into clothing, too. No muffin topping for this chick.

Argh. I'm pretty sure those jeans AREN'T her size.

My wish is to go into a store, any store, and be able to walk out with something to wear. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. That’s my goal for this coming year. To get to a size that does not require hours of research and reconnaissance before shopping. Will I be happier at that point? Not sure. I’m pretty confident that I’ll find something else to get fired up about…

Back in the Saddle

How many times have I said, “this is the last time I’m going to go to McDonald’s!”, or “I am absolutely committed to healthy living!”, or “I’m going to lose (x number of lbs) by (this date). I really should learn to stop making these blanket statements, as I believe I’m becoming the boy who cried wolf (or rather the girl who cried skinny). I shouldn't ever live in absolutes, because I’m human. I make mistakes, I fall off the horse, and I’m not perfect. The only statement I can make, which is absolutely true, is that I’m absolutely flawed in a lot of ways. Again, I've fallen off the horse.

 I have a lot of other friends who have committed to a lifestyle that I admire. They are living, breathing proof that commitment and perseverance are possible, and that even the most seemingly unobtainable goals are possible. There’s one friend who is a successful Beachbody Coach, selling Shakeology and coaching others in lifestyle changes. Another friend is a vegan. Seriously, a vegan, and she’s GREAT at it. Still another friend who has gone from no exercise to biking in world-renowned races, and is in the best shape of his life (in his 50’s).

And yet, there’s me. Whatever are we gonna do with me? I’m fat again. I've not been going to the gym at all. And I’m so, so very tired of the way I look.

Today I really feel like I've been hit by a bus. I’m so tired, I’m bloated, my eyes hurt, and I've had just about enough of this week. I just wanted to let you know that I’m still here, and still plugging along. School has started again, and Jameson is doing well. I just finished coaching soccer, and am in rehearsals for the Thornapple Players musical revue, set to debut this weekend. I am fostering kittens, loving on my dogs, and kissing up my cats. I am still living life… maybe not the best way that I can, but the best way that I know how, at this moment. I hope ya’ll are still with me, and still interested in this bumpy journey of mine. I’m still with all of you, and encourage your stories and comments.

I've decided to get back in the saddle. Wish me luck, that this next go around will be successful. I’m not promising anything… but I can promise that I’ll start writing again, and trying to help others where I can. 

Not Alone

I’m pretty sure there are many among us who are completely rocked by the death of Robin Williams, the comedic genius who brought such joy into our lives. It is such a tragic loss, not only for those who enjoyed his work, but also for the family that he left behind. His death, while incredibly sad, brings up a lot of questions and thoughts… and sheds a light on depression and the effects of that horrible disease. The legacy of Mr. Williams is his work on stage and screen, and his battle with a largely misunderstood and terrible illness.

Naturally, it got me thinking about myself and others who might be suffering in silence.

I take a drug called Zoloft. I've taken it for years, and just recently have considered weaning off of it (with a doctor’s supervision, of course). I began taking this drug when I started have major anxiety issues, which manifested in shortness of breath and tightening in my chest. I could not breathe, got faint and dizzy, and this was happening almost every day. I was scared and frustrated. I sought help, talked to my doctor and my therapist, and was prescribed a pill. While medicating my issues has never been entirely OK with me, the Zoloft does help, but I’m beginning to realize that it’s just masking some bigger problems.

I’m often sad. I’m emotional. I take things personally, and never fully trust anyone. I’m afraid people don’t like me, and are talking behind my back. The thought of staying in bed all day is not only appealing to me, but I actually yearn for the chance. I do incredibly stupid things that are detrimental to my life. Sometimes I don’t take care of myself, and my feelings definitely manifest in how I care for my home. In short, while I no longer have anxiety attacks thanks to the Zoloft, I have a whole basket full of other “crazy” to deal with.

Sound familiar?

I guarantee I’m not the only one. Am I the only person who is saying it out loud? Maybe. But I’m not the only one who struggles with depressed feelings and anxiety. I’m not the only person who eats her feelings, even when she’s trying to lose weight. I’m not the only woman out there who daily sabotages her life with erratic and damaging behavior. I've definitely fallen off the wagon this summer, fully aware that I am eating bad stuff and not getting to the gym… and not caring at all. A symptom of a bigger issue, for sure. I KNOW I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE.

You aren’t the only one either.

My point? We don’t have to go it alone. Ever. If there isn’t someone currently in your life to talk with about some of your own issues, then call me. If you feel sad, tired, and out of control, but don’t know what to do about it, email me (merrittwithmerit@gmail.com). Life is way too short to suffer in silence, or to be ashamed of something that so many others deal with daily.

As Mr. Williams says in Dead Poets Society, carpe diem. Let’s seize this day as one to be happy with. Let’s do it together. 

TIME, TIME, TIME, see what’s become of me…

I am having one helluva TIME making TIME for myself. This is has become incredibly apparent in the recent month, when I’ve been unable to make TIME to get to the gym. People have begun to notice. There is whispering, taunting, disdain. My pass card for the gym is covered with dust. It’s becoming a real problem.

So here’s the thing. I’m a single mother. I have a nine-year-old boy, two dogs, and four cats. And fish (can’t forget the fish). I have a lot of responsibilities which fall squarely on only my shoulders, which are not limited to, but include spending quality TIME with my kiddo, taking the dogs to the park, grocery shopping, making dinner, doing laundry, cleaning, or just flopping down exhaustedly on the bed after a busy, tough day. Often I’m so tired by the end of my full-TIME work week that Saturdays and Sundays are a bust, and only used for recuperation.

I used to make TIME during my lunch hour to go to the gym, which was very convenient. My father (who I live with) was home to hang with the dogs, my kiddo was at the babysitter’s house, and I was able to eat my lunch at my desk. However, for six weeks every summer, I am required to go home during my lunch hour to care for the animals. Gym TIME – gone. Hopefully now with Daddio’s return, I’ll be able to get back on that schedule.

I know what you’re thinking: that it’s just a ½ hour to an hour every day, and that it shouldn’t be hard to carve out that much TIME for myself. Let me tell you though – IT IS. I do not have a husband to take care of the kid, my home, or my pets for me. I do not have an older kid who doesn’t care when I’m home, or not. He still wants to spend TIME with me, and that’s fleeting and priceless. I do not WANT to take TIME away from my child, simply because he’s my job, and my responsibility. (And I love him.)

So what is the solution? Freeze my gym membership and work out with Jameson? That could work, but accountability goes out the window, and I also wouldn’t have access to the quality equipment that the gym offers (of my lovely friends who work there).  Realize that life is short and I NEED TO MAKE TIME FOR MYSELF? Easier said than done. Just frickin’ suck this up and get ‘er done? Hmmm…

It’s a conundrum, folks. Any creative suggestions are appreciated. 

As an afterthought, I figured you’d all want to know that I’m still down 20 lbs, with 80 more to go in the next year. I hope to be a svelte MILF (too much?) by my 40^th birthday, and am still working toward that goal!