The World Today

I received a phone call this week from an individual that I have worked with in the autism community. She has several children, one of which has severe autism. She is a single parent. She is muslim. She called to ask for help because she is receiving death threats for supporting terrorists. I didn't know how to respond. I still am at a loss for words. Somehow I managed to tell her that I was sorry for how she was treated, that she was a great person and parent. I then offered myself as a way to help, since I had no resources to help in this area. She said that knowing that I didn't judge her was enough help.

I plead for you to look at your actions. Muslims aren't the enemy. Terrorists are... and they are already here in America. They are the ones committing mass shootings; over 1000 have occurred since January 2013 resulting in over 1250 American deaths. (https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2015/10/12/there-have-been-1001-mass-shootings-in-america-since-2013/)

Some people don't want the refugees here because we have our own issues to deal with in America. There are currently 600,000 homeless people(Source: wikipedia) in the United States. For those who use this excuse, when was the last time you donated to a pantry or sat on the foodline at a shelter handing out food? Guess what, if we really wanted to help our homeless, lets start putting them in one of the 18 million empty homes in America. That's a good place to start. Or.... 

As some people say, where would these refugees go? How about in one of those 18 million empty homes? 

If you are one of those that say, I don't want my tax dollars paying for welfare, please consider that of your tax dollars taken monthly, only $85 dollars goes to welfare programs. That's it. $85. That's not that much, and if that means one family and children can go without being hungry, even if there are a few bums in the bunch, it's worth it. (and in case you didn't know where the rest of your tax dollars go... (http://hubpages.com/politics/How-Much-of-Your-Tax-Dollar-Really-Does-Go-to-Help-the-Free-Loading-Indigent-Ought-to-Get-a-Job-Americans) 

So let's see, we have 18 million open homes, we have $85 dollars a month, per person, to help those that need it, and we think we don't have enough resources to go around for all? Something isn't adding up here. 

Then there are the people that come out and just admit it: They are afraid. But here's the thing:The more fearful we are, the more we give up pieces of ourselves, the more those people win.Bad things happen all the time and can happen anywhere. You can't control it.  I choose to live my life, without fear. If it ends tomorrow, so be it, but i won't restrict who I am and what I love to succumb to fear. I don't want to have my freedom and liberty extinguished because of fear either. Ben Franklin said, "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." I feel this to my core. You are NEVER completely safe, so why give up your liberties and freedoms for additional safety?

Finally, not a point against having them here, I have to address the fact that this is completely against our American ideals. This is America; the land of opportunity. The place where our ancestors came to escape religious persecution and establish a country that valued life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness..... but yet we won't let refugees from Syria here because they are muslim. Does that make sense? And if it does, you should be ashamed. If it doesn't and you still think they shouldn't be here for any number of reasons, please see above. 

I know some will disagree with me. That's ok. All I ask is for you to NOT be ignorant. Don't believe what the media tells you, or fails to convey. USE YOUR BRAINS. Stop perpetuating ignorance and hate by learning something TRUE. 

Finally, don't be afraid. If you are living your life right, there is no reason to be afraid.Love always wins.

Saying Goodbye to My First "Baby"

Eight years ago, my husband and I moved into our first apartment together. It was also the first time I had lived outside my parents home. It was a hard time for me. Most young people are probably all about getting away from their parents and spreading their wings; I wasn't. I never wanted to leave.

Two months after we moved in together, I was still sad all the time. Our apartment was broken into and I was devastated. Not only did I feel separated from my support system but I also felt violated. It was then that we decided we needed a dog. 

We went to the animal shelter looking for a big dog, a lab, one that would "protect" us. While we did see many labs, there were only two dogs that caught our eye. One was a Jack Russell Terrier called "Danny", the other, was a small dog too, but I don't remember much about him. We were able to go into a "greeting area" to interact with the dog we were interested in. As soon as Danny was outside, he urinated 3 times and had 2 bowel movements. I was instantly sad because, in the shelter many of the dogs just went in the corners of their cage, but here he was holding everything in to keep his area clean. I knew then that I needed this dog. 

The next day we paid our fees and picked up Danny. The night before we had discussed changing his name to Lucky. We said he was lucky to have us, so Lucky became his name. The picture below was the day we brought him home.

Lucky was very timid at first and we were able to see signs that he had lived a life of abuse before us. Whenever we raised our voices, he would urinate. Whether we were raising our voices for happiness or out of frustration, the reaction was the same. This was something that we worked on by not raising our voice, not showing excitement when he came near. Eventually his urination stopped because he knew that we were safe to be with. 

If you know anything about Jack Rusells, they are one-owner dogs. That is not to say that they won't listen to other people, but they are very attached to one person. That person was me. Lucky was like my baby. I took him places with me, laid with him on the couch, and even let him sleep with me. He was my best friend and he came at a time when I needed him most. 

Lucky was a typical Jack Russell; full of energy and excitement. He also thought he was a lab. He could roll with the big dogs in my family and put them all in their place. He was definitely an alpha male. One of my favorite things to do was take him to my parents house, where they have land and say, "Run Lucky, Run!" He would run so fast; tuck his legs and run in circles. He loved to run. The picture below is Lucky and his Cousin Dog, Bailey. Bailey was just a pup and still bigger than Lucky.

We called him fatboy... not because he was fat, but because he looked beefy. People would often ask what breed he was because he was solid muscle (he's a shorty-jack russell) .

He was so receptive to the things that people would say. If you said any of his "choice" words, he would turn his head from side to side, ears up, and eyes wide. He would lick you when you came to the thing he wanted most. 

Lucky loved to eat; his absolute favorite thing was peanut butter. One morning I came downstairs to find he had eaten an entire box of peanut butter girl scout cookies! 

He was so smart; it only took one time to tell him something or show him something and he never forgot it. 

He always greeted us when we came home. When he was younger, he used to follow me from the front door, to the bathroom, then sit on my lap as I went to the bathroom and licked my face. 

He loved Chip (who I posted about a year ago when she died); he liked playing with other dogs, but he LOVED chip. I would say her name and he would go wild. 

He was really intuitive; he knew when I was pregnant with my son before I knew I was pregnant. I remember asking my husband, "What is wrong with this dog? Why won't he leave me alone?" He was always my protector. 

When my son was born, he started splitting his sleeping time between my bed and on the rug in my son's room. When my son got a toddler bed, he shared the bed with him at times. He was my son's protector too. 

Last spring when I had a miscarriage, it was Lucky who laid on the bathroom floor with me while I cried for hours. 

Tonight I will come home from work and take him to the vet to be put to sleep. He has cancer, and the tumors are now too much for him. He looks miserable, his breathing is labored and he just isn't happy like he used to be. My heart is broken. I don't know why I thought this dog would last forever, but I did, foolishly. I will have to say goodbye to my first baby today. 

I will come home from the vet and not be greeted by my friend. 

I will go to bed without him for the first time in 8 years. 

I will not be followed around the house, and comforted when I am sad. 

My life will never be the same. All because of a dog named Lucky, who I thought I was saving. In reality, I was the lucky one. 

Rant: Family

This week marks my son's birthday. While this is a fun time for him and the majority of my family, it's also a time that year after year I am reminded of who I as a person. I am also given the opportunity to grow.

While I will take that opportunity to grow, that doesn't mean that I am ok with the current situation.

There are certain people related to my son who think that they are entitled to be involved in his life because they are blood related. It's all about the blood!

So here is my rant.
(Steps on soapbox) Just because your blood runs through my child's veins does not mean that you are entitled to being in his life. If you want to be in his life make the conscious choice to know him as a person and be involved. Don't blame me when you never get to see him and why he doesn't know you. He doesn't know you because you choose to be involved when it's convenient for you... for your own selfish purposes. Oh hey, it's his birthday this week... and now you want to come see him. Shock. You know what? He's a freaking AWESOME kid, and while it's your blood in him... he's every bit of me. He's driven, ambitious, creative, a smart-ass, stubborn, sweet, little boy... who will one day be a great man. Not because of your blood, but because of mine. Because we show love. We live love. WE ARE FAMILY, not just because blood and genetics tell us that; but because we live it everyday. Family is more than blood. It's actions. You don't like me; I don't care and I never will care. But you know what, because you don't like me, I have a hard time understanding how you will ever like my son.... because he's JUST LIKE ME. Go ahead and tell yourself that he's like his father. You don't know any of us..... your own son included.

So there's that. You aren't entitled to him because of his blood. You aren't entitled to him, period. He's mine. He's his father's. He's a product of the group of people that I call my family, and they know it's more than just genetics. It's about being there, loving and supporting each other, and taking care of one another.  You don't understand that. You'll never understand that.

I normally feel sorry for you and the limitations you create in your life. Today, however, I am frustrated.

I feel sorry for you

There is someone who has been involved in my life, through another person, that has said repeatedly that not only I, but my husband and family think that we are better than others.

I always find it interesting when someone says this about another person because it has no bearing on the person the phrase is being spoken of, but it says volumes of the speaker.

It tells me the speaker is envious. Envious of the person to whom the are attempting to degrade by making such a statement. Envious of their life, how they live, and how they react to others.

It tells me that the speaker is aching. Aching to have a life that is full of value.

It tells me that the speaker is small in action and mind. You can't make statements like that and not be a small thinker. Of all the things going on in the world, of all the things in life that matter, worrying or becoming upset about someone else's personality should be the least of your small minded worries.

When I think about why this person would say things about the people I love, it all makes sense. We have love. We have happiness, we have support, and we have togetherness. We have the things that other people are envious and/or aching to have.

So, to the person that continues to think that me, my husband, and my family think we are better than other people.... go ahead and tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. Really, all we care about is each other; loving each other, supporting each other, taking care of each other, and being the best persons we can be for ourselves. If that makes us better than others, so be it.

I am sorry you feel that way. I hope that one day you find the happiness in life that we as a family have.

Has It Been 10 Years Already?

Ten years ago today, I was laying on my bedroom floor texting this guy. We had been friends for over a year. A year of people telling us that we needed to start dating, that we were meant for each other. During that texted conversation, I told him I wanted to be more than friends... and asked if he wanted the same. He said yes. The rest is history. I guess!

The past ten years have been NO WHERE near perfect. In fact, for the majority of those years, we were a hot mess! We weren't just a mess in our relationship, but individually as well. I was getting over someone who had hurt me, deeply. He was getting over someone who broke his trust and he doubted everything I did. I came from an upper-middle class family who was present, supportive, and involved. He came from a lower-class family who was absent, indifferent, and un-involved. We really couldn't have been more opposite of each other.

Something happened though, when I met him in 2003. I was training him on policies at Media Play. He looked at me, and I just felt funny. The more I talked to him, the more I wanted to be around him. Then one day I heard him make an offhand comment, after seeing a guy be disrespectful to his wife or girlfriend. He said, "I would never treat you that way." I looked at him and I knew that he never would. I also knew that I didn't want to be with anyone else but him for the rest of my life, despite our differences. He had me even before we started dating.

He was so quiet and mysterious, and I was drawn in. He started calling me his wife at work, even before we were officially dating. I thought it was cute, so I started calling him my husband. Again, it just felt right.

It's easy to say when you look back you knew you were meant to be. I always say that I knew it, but really, I just knew that I was drawn to him. I was worried that we would never work because we were so different.

Because we are so different is why we work so well. All those bad things about myself that I hate? He makes up for them, and has the opposite inside him. All those bad things about him? I make up for them, opposite of him. We balance.

We've grown so much in the past 10 years. I wouldn't even know that girl back in 2004 or that guy I started dating!

The best thing about our relationship is that it's real. We aren't perfect, but we give 100% to each other. He's my person. He's my best friend. 10 years later, we are stronger than ever. As the years have passed, our relationship has just improved. I can't imagine what we'll be like in another 10, 20, or 50 years from now. Hopefully we'll have kids and grandkids that think our love is something special.

We do have something special, and we protect it. It's ours. Here's to the next 10 years (This time married all 10 of them! ;)

6 months later

As of the end of this week, (July 5) it will have been 6 months since I started this journey to a healthier lifestyle. The past 6 months have been challenging in more ways than I can count, and I've learned a lot about myself.

I've dealt with two FULL months of having a period. This was due to my body becoming healthy and trying to regulate my menstrual cycle. Up until this journey, my periods were irregular (3 per year on average). During this time, my weight loss slowed. This is mostly due to water gain and bloating, and inability to exercise as hard as I was before. It was really difficult in more ways that just the exercise; I wanted to EAT my cravings, but didn't. So, luckily, after the second full month of menstruating, the doctor assumed that my body was regular and I would resume my 31 day cycle.

WRONG.
On a Tuesday afternoon at work, I was experiencing sharp stabbing pains in my upper abdomen, right below my sternum. I went to the bathroom and was urinating orange. I immediately called my doctor and was told to go to the emergency room. So I left, calling my mom and husband to let them know I was worried and that my doctor thought my gallbladder was to blame. I assumed I would be having surgery or something within hours.

I arrived at the emergency room, was asked to provide a urine sample and then ushered to my room. I sat and waited a while, and my mom and husband kept me company. After an hour, a doctor came in and asked if they were free to share information in front of my family. I would be telling them everything anyway, so I said sure. My doctor said that my gallbladder was fine, and all the tests came back normal.

But I was pregnant. My mom immediately shouted with joy; my husband and I were somewhat in shock. While we have been "trying" for two years, I knew that my weight/not being healthy had much to do with us not getting pregnant. The fact that it had happened within 3 months of starting my weight loss journey was surreal.

The next 6 weeks I was SICK as a dog. I had to stop on the side of the freeway a few times to vomit. I was at work talking with consumers and parents one minute, in the bathroom getting sick the next. It was a rollercoaster that I was overjoyed to be on.

I kept walking, but not working out as heavily as I was before. I wanted to keep my body healthy and prepared to carry a baby. Everyday I walked 1-5 miles, depending on how much energy I had. Every day at lunch I walked at work.

I had my six week appointment with the OB, and they did an ultrasound. There on the screen we were able to see our little bean, baby number two, the completion of our family. We were pretty excited.

One week before my ten week appointment, I felt a change in myself. Every Saturday since I found out I was pregnant, I was DEATHLY sick. It was so bad, I had no energy and didn't want to get out of bed. Then, all of the sudden, I was fine. I instantly thought the early pregnancy symptoms were going away.... but deep down, I knew.

At my ten week appointment, they did another ultrasound because I had reported some bleeding. Sure enough, the baby had stopped growing.

In my head, I rationalized: everything happens for a reason. But my heart was broken. I left the doctor's office and had to go to work. I had to face people and wasn't ready, so I shared by sadness with the people I am closest with and asked them for support. I went home that night and cried for hours. It was the only time I cried. I did let myself eat bad. I wasn't allowed to work out, so that stress reliever was gone, so I had to eat. In the two weeks following, I gained four pounds. I gave myself a deadline for feeling sorry for myself, and once that day came, I was done. I started working out heavily.

In the first week after I was cleared to exercise, I lost 11lbs (but since I gained 4, I really lost 7). In the second week I lost 4.... and I just kept going.

I ran my first 5k a week and a half ago, and since I've discovered running is something I enjoy. Last Saturday I officially became a runner, and now I obsessed. As soon as something upsets me or my emotions get the best of me, I instantly want to run. My obsession with food has officially been replaced.

Now here I am, six months after the start of this journey. I've been thrown so many curve balls, but I keep going; that is how I know I won't go back. I've hit my 80lbs by the end of June; down 4 pant sizes; 27 inches lost overall. I am more proud of myself now, than I have ever been. I can't wait to see what I pull off by the end of the year. Though I've been handed blessing, and tragedy, the biggest blessing I've been given is that of my health. I do have confidence that one day soon, we will complete our family. Until then, I will just keep running.

50lbs to go. :)

New Years Resolution, Three Months Later....

As of Sunday, it will be three full months since I made a commitment to myself to be a better person through exercise and healthy eating. As of today I have lost 51 lbs, just 4lbs shy of my goal. I can't really complain though, my body has tossed some curve balls, and I've adjusted to them.

Over the past few months I've leaned the following:
1. To lose weight, your diet affects your success more than the work that you put in.
2. My body really, REALLY, does not like sugar! Anytime I eat some, and not because I am craving it, I get extremely sick! I ate a piece of cake for my birthday and I thought I was going to die! I was attempting to induce vomiting I was in so much pain. It was awful.
3. I have to give in to my cravings once in a while to avoid a "relapse" or a "binge". I've learned that when my body wants nachos and cheese, I better eat some. If I avoid it, the craving grows and grows until I get out of control and eat way more than I need to in order to satisfy my craving.
4. I don't beat myself up when I do eat something outside of my normal diet and/or it's something that is not healthy. I go out with friends once a month and I eat whatever I want.... and I let it go. One meal wont kill me, so why fret over it?
5. My body needs more meat and vegetables than it does anything else. I probably could live off meat and vegetables alone.

I've lost a total of 20 inches overall. I am down two pant sizes.

I have many things to be proud of!
Here is to the next three months! My next goal is to be down 80lbs by the end of June.