Here we go....

Published that post on Thursday evening, so I guess it's time I 'fess up to what I ate yesterday. 

Breakfast: Chobani blueberry yogurt with Triple Berry Kashi cereal.  (REALLY, REALLY, GOOD)

Snack: Banana

Lunch: Blueberry bagel I picked up a Meijer.

The rest of the day:  Mini Teddy Grahams, Gummi Life Savers, Ruffle potato chips, some Xtra Cheddar Goldfish, and a box of Pretzel M&M's at the movies. 

See...really good through breakfast, so-so at lunch and then totally downhill after that!!  I wonder where all of my resistance has gone???  As I sit or stand eating the food, I ask myself what the hell I am doing, yet I continue to eat.  No exercise yesterday either. 

BUT, remaining hopeful, today is a new day.  I am getting on my bike as soon as I am done typing this and hope I can find my skinny thinking to keep me away from the junk. 

Wish me luck!

Diary of a "Yo-Yo" Woman

I bet you are wondering if the title is referring to me as a crotch grabbing woman who walks around saying "Yo-Yo, what's up?"  No, that's not me and it brings a funny picture into my mind of trying to actually pull off that look.  What I am referring to is being a woman who has lived and breathed the "Yo-Yo" diet thing.  I have done the whole weight loss and gain cycle about four times in my adult years with a few "diet for a day or two" things in-between.  The first time was when I was around age twenty-one.  I got down to around 119 pounds, but I never ate a damn thing.  I lived on shredded wheat and tuna with no mayo.  It was awful.  I loved how I looked, but couldn't maintain the low calorie level.  Shoot, who could??

My next go-round was in my 30's with an agency called "LA Weight Loss".  Did pretty good there, not down to to 119, but reached very happy weight.  Problem with this system, I had to buy their nutrition bars, which got expensive with newborn babies.  With that program, I kept the weight off for awhile, but having two babies two years in a row took it's toll on my body and my ability to choose my food wisely.

Next came the South Beach Diet.  I thought this was it.  I ate a ham and cheese omelet for fourteen days straight, had a salad twice a day and ate no carbs, none!!  Dropped 25 pounds on that plan.  Looking good.  Then realized that I could NEVER eat watermelon or pineapple again.  Had a hard time justifying how a fruit could be forbidden.  Chocolate was NEVER allowed also.  Kept the weight off for about six months on that diet, but really, who can NEVER eat chocolate again.  Not me!! 

Finally, I read a book that changed my outlook on food, exercise and dieting.  It's called "Beck's Diet for Life"  I read it from cover to cover, which was a change for me.  I usually just jumped right in, lost weight really fast and gained it back faster.  This book challenged me to do weight loss the right way, slow and healthy.  I don't starve.  I eat six times a day and it is protein based.  I dropped about 30 pounds on this plan and it has been two years.  I have gained back around seven pounds and I am starting to panic a bit.  I can't seem to get a grasp on my eating.  I know what to do, it just seems to be forgotten when I walk in the door at 3pm and invade my cupboards for anything unhealthy. 


Old me with famous author Diana Gabaldon



New me with friends Andrea and Gina





So why am I sharing all this??  Because DAMMIT, I refuse to allow myself to gain all that weight back.  I am going to try something new and post daily about my eating.  Kind of like a food journal.  Going to include what I consumed that day (everything, even the candy or cookies or chips I tend to sneak and not write down), exercise and what I was feeling that day.  I have noticed that stress leads to a larger consumption of the unhealthy, but wonderfully tasteful, junk food.  I am hoping that this will be the way to guide myself back to healthy behavior and take me off of the "Yo-Yo" train I've been riding for years.   



Faith

Faith has been a weird thing to me lately.  It has taken on many different looks and various definitions. 

My faith remains the same.  It has not been tested, but I have been wrestling with what my belief system taught me as a teenager.  I remember sitting in my eleventh grade religion class discussing suicide.  My teacher, also the school's basketball coach, told all of us that the Catholic church stated anyone who committed suicide went to hell.  I questioned it back then, and due to life circumstances, I question it now. 

I am going to try and explain this in a way that makes sense. 

I don't believe that committing suicide automatically admits you to hell.  But I also don't believe that someone who commits suicide is following God's plan.  I don't think that God has a plan for us to take our own lives.  The struggle I am currently having is with others who view my ex's death as "the Lord calling you to become his angel" or "You were taken from us too early, but it was God's plan".  I can't bring myself to believe that either.  Don't get me wrong, I don't want my ex's soul in hell; my kids pray every night that their new "angel daddy" watches over them while they sleep.  I also don't think he should get a free pass into heaven with all of the pain he left behind. 

I have asked my mother and a few of my Catholic friends what they think, because I can't find an answer myself.  Here's their take.  One, he was mentally ill when he did this, so God forgave him and he is in heaven.  Can kinda believe that one because I do think he was quite ill.  Two, he is in purgatory. (for those of you who don't know what that is, it's a place that is neither heaven nor hell)  Sort of okay with that one too.  Maybe he needs to be there and see what he left behind and ask for forgiveness before he is granted entrance into heaven.  Three, his soul will be forever tortured.  Not sure if I like that one either.  I do feel he was pretty tortured here on earth, most of it his own doing, but nevertheless, not sure if he should remain forever tortured in death. 

I am not really sure anyone can provide me with an answer.  The one thought that keeps jumping in my mind is that if I have faith, the answer will show itself somehow, someday, someway.     

The Silver Lining

As you can probably tell from my last couple of blogs, life has been a little iffy lately.  And that is putting it mildly.  My ex's death has taken us on a bit of a rollercoaster ride with our emotions. 

A good thing has happened in response to his death.  My children have reconnected with their half-brother and sister.  It is really an awesome thing to watch.  If I think about it too long, it brings tears to my eyes. 

Patrick is twenty-three, soon to be twenty-four and Elizabeth is seventeen.  One would think they would be so involved in their own lives, and grief, that they wouldn't have time for my two, who are only six and seven.  Wrong...if anything, they have made more time in their busy lives for my kids.  

Over Christmas break, Patrick came and set up my new flat screen television.  He hooked up the television, cables for the video games, and a blue-ray dvd player I don't really think I needed.  Little did he know that he would have to endure Halle, the non-stop talking six year old who asks so many questions and talks so much you can't think straight.  He took it all in stride, answered all of her questions and did fabulous at keeping pace with her. (It made me tired just listening)  He then came back a couple days later for some X-Box time with Braeden.  It was quite a sight.  A twenty-three year old sitting on the floor playing Lego Batman with my seven year old.  Braeden was beaming, of course it helped that Patrick knew the in's and outs of the game so well.  After four hours, they called it a night.  That was soon followed by an overnight at Patrick and Elizabeth's house.  The kids came home exhausted, but said they had so much fun.

In all honesty, I expected this "quality time" to just drop off.  The holidays were over and school had begun again for all of us.  It didn't though.  Patrick just came over this week and played Batman with Braeden and listened to all of Halle's updates from her life.(and there are so many for a six year old)  It was awesome to watch them sitting on the floor, the longer they sat, the closer they scooted to Patrick.  By the end, Halle was almost sitting in his lap. 

Last evening was Elizabeth's birthday celebration.  We all met at the Olive Garden.  I was apprehensive.  I expected to be completely uncomfortable.  It was like that in the past.  We would all attend these dinners when my ex was alive (and before our divorce), but there was always a feeling of tension.  Not so last evening.  It was rather enjoyable.  Actually, it was more than that.  It was fun!!  The kids are so at ease with Patrick and Elizabeth, even their mother Mari.  Their relationship is so natural.  We were a family. 

It saddens me that it has taken the death of my ex-husband to bring us together, but it least it has given us a much needed silver lining. 

Patience

Patience is a virtue, but not one I possess.  I get impatient when people run late, when the clock moves too slow at work, and when old men at the grocery store don't know how to use their credit card and require twenty minutes of instruction. 

My latest run-in with impatience has nothing to do with any of the above.  I am impatiently waiting for my kids to heal.  I want them to wake up tomorrow morning and not experience emptiness and pain.  I want them to make it through one day without crying.  I want them to go back to being the children they were. 

When he would not call or visit, I could deal with that.  I was able to provide them with some hope that they may see him again.  It may not be soon, but it would happen eventually.  I can't do that anymore.  I can't give them a time when they may see him.  I can't give them the phone so they can call.  I can't do shit and that is what pisses me off the most!!! 

I know expecting my kids to have healed by now is unrealistic. It's only been three weeks.  This is going to be a lifetime thing.  But having to see them living with this loss everyday is pushing me to the edge.  I'm afraid I'm just going to explode.  Not in anger, but just explode.  Probably a marathon cry-a-thon.  Crying for six hours straight.  That usually makes me feel better (and yes, I have done a six hour cryfest before).  But, at the risk of repeating myself, it won't change a damn thing.  He will still be dead and my kids will still be in pain.

Dammit!!!   

Never the same...

I don't like the night anymore.  It used to be my favorite part of the day.  The kids were in bed by 8 (ish) and the house was quiet.  I got to read a book, watch some television, or spend time browsing web sites on the computer.  It was my time.  It's gone now...

Night time now involves calming the kids down enough to go to sleep.  I think they are having the same difficulties I am.  Night time means nothing else to do but think.  And we are all thinking about the same thing; their father and my ex-husband. 

My new bedtime routine involves rocking Braeden while humming a song from when he was a baby.  I then tuck him in and he begins to cry.  "I miss daddy so much mommy"  "I can't believe he's gone mommy"  "I don't like it that daddy is dead mommy"  I spend the next ten minutes reassuring him that daddy may be gone from the earth, but he is always in our hearts and can watch us from heaven.  Sometimes he calms down enough to go to sleep, others, he is brought to my bed because he can't stop crying.  The sadness overwhelms him. 

At first, Halle was sleeping in her bed okay; her routine stayed the same.  Up until the service last week.  Now, I rock her also and hum a song I made up for her when she was a baby.  She hangs on extra tight.  She follows me around the house from the time she gets off the bus until she goes to bed.  She wants to wear the same clothes I wear and eat the same foods I eat.  She wants to be where I am at all times, if possible. 

As for me, when I do get them calmed down and sleeping, my own thoughts start floating through my head and keep me awake.  I think of the pain they are experiencing and wonder how long the crying at night will last.  I think of the fact that the holidays are coming and wonder what that may bring.  I think of the fact that on Father's Day, the sorrow will be immense.  I think of the fact that he was in so much pain, he stood in the middle of a river and shot himself.  I wonder, in twenty years, give or take a few, who will walk Halle down the aisle when she gets married? 

Then come the angry thoughts.  There are so many things he took away from my kids by killing himself.  I try and understand/remember that he must have been very sick.  Sometimes, the anger overrules the understanding.  How could he have done this?  What in the hell was he thinking?  Did he not realize what this would do to the kids?  My god, if they end up blaming themselves for this someday, it will break my heart. 

I realize that all of this is part of the grief process, but damn, it's still not fair.  It's not fair that Braeden cries everyday and that Halle is now afraid to be too far from me.  It's not fair that he made this choice that impacted our lives forever.  It's not fair that our lives will never be the same...

Please tell me I'm dreaming...

Sometimes life throws a curveball that is completely unexpected. 

Life threw the biggest curveball my way this weekend.

My ex-husband decided to end his life.

I have children, ages six and seven, that were left behind.

I had to sit down yesterday and tell them that their daddy died.

I keep hoping, praying, that it wasn't/isn't true.  Somebody's going to wake me up from this horrible nightmare and tell me that I was dreaming. 

It hasn't happened yet.