#MLvulnerability

[measuringlife]

Measuring Me: A Brief History of Measuring Life

This past week was my Measuring Life Instagram 1 year anniversary! This past week was also the 9 year anniversary of my Measuring Life Tumblr account. I had started Measuring Life in January 2010 on Blogspot, but then quickly found the “fitblr” community on Tumblr so I decided to most all the posts from my first few months.

When I created my Blogspot I was doing it JUST for me, as a place to track my progress in a “public” way, however, I didn’t tell anyone about the page. Through some friends who were on a more public health and fitness journey in early 2010 I learned about the fitblr community on Tumblr. 2009-2011 were really the heyday of the fitblr community. Through Tumblr I was lead to tons of super useful resources related to fitness and nutrition and also learned about the posting culture like Transformation Tuesday, Weigh in Wednesday, Face to Face Friday and more. I was also introduced to things like Non-Scale Victories (NSV) or terms like Fitspo (fitness inspiration).

It was through Tumblr that I realized the power of community and what important piece of the weight loss/fitness puzzle that community was. Not only did I have a place of accountability, but I had people rooting for me and I was rooting for other people. Almost all of my Tumblr friends were people I didn’t know in real life and I found some “safety” in that. These fitblr strangers quickly became friends and over the years I’ve built real friends with them IRL (in real life). Most notably running a Ragnar with fitblr friends, multiple NYC and DC meal meet-ups, and attending the wedding in Chicago of a friend I met through Tumblr.

However early into my Tumblr journey I still didn’t post pictures of my face and kept my blog fairly anonymous. Looking back I was afraid of people judged and afraid of failing. I think that is largely why I didn’t tell my IRL friends about my Tumblr. People could SEE that I was losing weight, so I don’t know why I was so ashamed (?) about owning the fact that I was trying to get in better shape and healthier. Ashamed sounds harsh, but at the same time, I think it was accurate. I tried to wear my weight confidently although I definitely had low self-esteem and body image issues. Looking back now, I think perhaps had I publicly announced my weight loss journey it would have felt to me like I was declaring that I wasn’t happy with my body - which was true - but it would have made my already fragile self feel too damn vulnerable.  

There were times over the years that I thought about sharing my Tumblr with people, however, as most weight loss and fitness journeys go the past 9 years have been filled with two steps forward and one step back as well as falling off the wagon and getting back on time and time again. I think every time I was feeling good and ready to share my journey I’d lose momentum and then didn’t feel confident enough to share my Tumblr.

Last year at the start of 2018 I got recommitted to my weight loss and fitness journey. I took weight watchers tracking seriously, I made it a point to work out 5x a week, take vitamins and more. 5 months into this chapter, May of last year, I was feeling really good about my progress and in an act of 1AM clarity, I decided to make an Instagram and Facebook page for Measuring Life. Tumblr is sadly a shell of its former self and I knew that I needed a community of support to help me stay motivated. I had followed a number of weight loss/fitness Instagram accounts and already had a personal account since 2013 so I knew that was what I wanted as my main platform. However, I also know that if I ever want to monetize Measuring Life in some way that I should grab all the social media handles and buy a website domain. So last May I did just that.

It took sometime before I started personally inviting some IRL friends to my Measuring Life accounts. The response I got from those friends was so lovely and supportive. I had been working with my friend A on a logo for a couple of months in 2018 and I was ready to debut it once 2019 rolled in. January 2019 was also when I posted on my personal Instagram about my Measuring Life account. My Facebook page still feels too public, whereas people I am actually friends with follow my personal Instagram account. However, I hope to continue to put myself out there and share Measuring Life with more people. One of my bestie C started a fertility journey/new motherhood blog that she has been share more and more widely, I’m definitely inspired by her willingness to put it out there and “let it all hang out!”

Where Measuring Life goes is still to be seen. Nothing about my journey has been an “overnight transformation” which is what the internet loves. I’ve been slow and unsteady for years upon years. Plus for me Measuring Life isn’t just about my weight and fitness, it’s about my mental health, my relationships, my financial journey, and more. So needless to say my “brand is diluted,” which can be problematic. However, I still come back to the quote from Tom Rath, “if you measure it, you can manage it.” I think that’s the real point of Measuring Life. If you don’t know what you are working it and track the trajectory, then there is no way to change anything aside from dumb luck.

So here’s to another year of Measuring Life, looking forward to the next chapter. If you think someone can be inspired or motivated by my journey please feel free to share my account, like I said community is key when it comes to my success patterns and I believe that’s true for most of us. I’m here to follow and cheer you on right back!

[measuringlife]

Measuring Me: Weighty Issues

Weight is such an interesting thing. As someone who weighed upwards of 225 pounds at one point in my life, there was something so magical about reaching a healthy BMI. I remember in like 7th grade stepping on a scale in a store and it read 175, I had no idea what that meant. Well aside from always getting a lecture at the pediatrician about my weight, cholesterol, other blood work. AKA more things that I had no real idea about. It wasn’t until my 2010 weight loss journey at age 26 that I started to learn.

For so long I fantasized about reaching 169 pounds, that was 24.9 on the BMI scale which was the very top of the healthy range. I got as close as 174 back in 2010 and 2012. My body seemed to really like being 190 for years. Which I accepted, somehow finding “comfort” that “at least it was 200 pounds.

Last summer I finally saw the 170s after 6 months of being back on Weight Watchers and a solid fitness routine. Earlier this year I saw the 160s for the first time ever. I hit my goal of 169 prior to my March 31 “deadline.” It’s funny how the numbers really don’t tell the whole story. I thought I’d look like a different person at 169 pounds, but I don’t I’m still me albeit leaner. Seeing 169 didn’t flip a switch it’s been all the habit changes that have changed me. I carry myself differently, I dress a little differently, I’m more toned, I find other things to occupy myself besides food. Although I hit this goal weight, it’s not my goal body yet. I’m not quite sure what that body will look like, but I know how hard I’m working and how strong I am and how much stronger I am capable of getting.

At 5’9.5 inches tall the internet tells me the low 150s is an ideal weight for me. So I’ve sort of settled on a new target weight - which I like better than goal weight, but a target can be changed. My new target weight is 154 pounds. This would mean I would have lost exactly 50 pounds since first joining Weight Watchers in February 2017 and 42.5 pounds since I fully committed to this journey on December 28, 2017. Overall that will have me a 68.8 pounds lost since I started Measuring Life in January 2010. 70 pounds lost feels INSANE, like unimaginable, but as of today I’m 166.6 pounds which means I’m down 56 pounds overall!

I often think about meeting my friend KO back in fall 2010 early into my journey and running career. I was introduced to this tall thin blonde woman who I was told is also a runner - in fact, she was training for a marathon at the time. I remember thinking oh great I have to share running stats with this skinny lean chick who could run circles around me. I later learned KO had lost 100 pounds years before I met her. Looking back I hated myself for judging her, but I smile at thinking well that’s gotta be an NSV right there - someone envying your body and ability at first glance.

I look forward to the people in my life “who couldn’t imagine me at 200+ pounds,” but I also greatly appreciate the support I’ve received along the way on this journey. Once I hit whatever weight, the real test will be maintaining it. Very curious about that leg of things, however I know I’ve learned so much about nutrition and fitness over the years. I have lost this weight (and gained it back sometimes to lost it again) slowly over time, so I feel more confident about keeping it off forever.

[measuringlife]

Measuring Me: Intimidation

For a long time, I was quite proud that people found me “intimidating.” In fact, I embraced and really leaned into it. I used my 5’9.5” height, my New York pace, Long Island accent, and direct nature to my advantage, or so I thought. I liked my walls, they kept me safe and reduced the chances of getting hurt more than I already was.  

This really was the case during the years I lived in Texas and Alabama between the ages of  23-28. To most folks I worked with/socialized with/interacted it I was “unique” - I freaking loathe that word, yet it was one that people always said about me. In those southern passive-aggressive ways, it was clearly made known to me that I was an “other” and that I didn’t “fit in.” So instead of trying to fit or get rejected by people I intentionally rubbed against the grain. One of my favorite acts of defiance was when I dyed my hair black and had purple and blue streaks in it. It was really pretty I must say, but not a hair choice often made in eastern Alabama. I gotta say may local hairdresser did love the opportunity to “play.”

I knew that getting some people to like me would be hard and out of my control, but what was in my control was to intimidate people. If I couldn’t get you to like me I could get you to fear me, it seemed like a safer bet. Some of my go-to trauma response is to control situations, or in this case, control the narrative. I’d rather tell myself my social life or love life wasn’t blossoming in the south because I was intimidating. While at the same time keeping people at arm’s length which was also a favorite pastime - and one I still sometimes struggle with at times.

I did enjoy my time in Alabama, but socially there was a lot to be desired. Thankfully I found some other “misfits” in the form of my improv comedy group “What the Fox?!”. We were quite a motley crew, some of our members were makeup artists, tattoo artists, English professors, newspaper journalists and more. These friends led me to other professor and photographer friends who made my remaining time in Alabama enjoyable and I still love keeping up with them and the fabulous twists and turns of their lives. These were the people that let me be my true self. Improv comedy is based in truth and rawness, bullshitting isn’t going to work. I think a big part of my self-acceptance came from the acceptance I found in this group after feeling like such a lone ranger or odd duck for so many years.

I know regardless of my intention some people will find me intimidating. I’m tall, loud, confident and driven, but I’m not making any apologies for it. What I do try to do is break the ice, be the person who introduces myself with a smile first, sets up a coffee break with someone at work. I do wish I could come off as more approachable, but I think if someone is going to let my Long Island accent and bold earring choices intimidate them then that’s their own issue. I’ve been striving to be authentic my whole life and I feel like I’m finally getting close. I am a strong successful woman who also values relationships - both new and old, - who enjoys expressing myself creatively as much as possible, especially through my earrings or hair color!

[measuringlife]

Measuring Monday: Full House

While in San Francisco over the weekend I FINALLY got to visit the Painted Ladies, Alamo Square Park, and the Full House house. People were surprised to learn I had never been to San Fran before, some friends were like are you sure, I thought I’ve seen pictures of you there?! I have been tagged in SF pictures many times over, but that’s because so many friends have tagged me in pictures of the Painted Ladies over the years because of my reputation for being a Full House superfan.

I was particularly known for my love of Full House in college. When I was a head orientation leader I was able to name my own group. Each year orientation had a theme and the orientation groups had names that related to the theme as opposed to group numbers. My senior year we had a music/bands theme and as a head leader I chose “Jesse and the Rippers” as my group name! That summer my bestie S got me an “I heart Uncle Jesse” t-shirt which has a crudely “photoshopped” picture of John Stamos in the heart. You have to recall this was 2004 and buying things on the internet and photoshop weren’t really common. I cried when I got it. Later that summer a gift I got from the orientation team was a Uncle Jesse doll that they bought off of E-Bay. I still wear the shirt from time to time and the Uncle Jesse doll is currently on display in my living room.

I remember watching Full House from when I was a little kid on TGIF and then when it moved to Tuesdays. The first Tuesday episode was when Stephanie was a pitcher on a little league baseball team and liked a boy named Brett on the other team who wanted her to pitch easy to him so he’s score and impress his Dad. He even drew a heart with her initials in it on his bat. Not even a top 20 favorite episode, but I know them all. My favorite episode is season 4 episode one, Greek Week when Uncle Jesse’s family comes to visit from Greece. So many hilarious moments and lines, but DJ getting married by walking around the kitchen table 3 times and Danny being horrified is everything. I also love DJ’s 13th birthday episode or when Stephanie and DJ punch a hole in Danny’s bedroom as well as the well-known episodes of when Stephanie drives the car through the kitchen or DJ and Kimmy go to junior high and experiment with makeup and clothes. It goes without saying I also love ANY and EVERY episode that features Uncle Jesse singing.

I remember being so sad when it was suddenly cancelled without much warning. Thankfully it’s been in syndication before it even went off the air. I have the entire series on DVD, I got them as each of them were released back in the early 2000s. Now I have them at my fingertips through streaming services and don’t even get me started on Fuller House which I also adore.

I love the wholesome cheesiness of Full House. Full House was my escape as a child. Now it also makes me back to a more innocent time. The character I most identified with was DJ, classic oldest child over-achiever who was trying to navigate puberty. I am clearly had (and still do) a crush on Uncle Jesse.  Full House was generally upbeat, but the premise is about a young family who is rocked by the tragedy of losing the mother in a car accident. Moments throughout the series is tinged with the reality of that los, but generally it was not spoken about. However maybe as a child growing up in a dysfunctional family watching the show I was more aware of the what was unsaid or unspoken since I was all too familiar with the reality of loud silences. I also observe the same thing while watching Fuller House where DJ’s husband died as a firefighter as she leans on Stephanie and Kimmy to raise her 3 boys.

The Full House house set is epic. I loved all the staircases and that swinging kitchen door. The room DJ and Stephanie shared, especially in early seasons that decor was so perfectly 80s. I always loved the Full House kitchen, but in Fuller House it was updated and wow! That kitchen is my dream kitchen from the layout to all the entrances and exits.

Getting to see the Painted Ladies from Alamo Square Park where the Tanner family picnics in the opening credits was surreal. We also went about 1.5 miles away to Broderick Street to see the house used as the Tanner family house in the exterior shots. Sadly it was under renovation and mostly tented, but the house next door was essentially it’s twin so I felt good about it. I’m so glad I was able to mark this off my bucket list!

[measuringlife]

Measuring Monday: Animal Lover

Inspired by all my pet sitting, here is my free-write about being an animal lover

I just passed my 6-month mark of my pet sitting side hustle. I sit through Rover and now also independently due to repeat clients and referrals. My friend AY(I really have a lot of friends with A names) I think first mentioned Rover to me because she asked me to watch her senior pup and said something about “usual Rover sitter” or something. So back in the fall I checked in on her little girl, taking her for walks, making sure she had food and water, and also gave her some attention. From there I decided to look into Rover, then set up an account, had some pet owner friends write some references/recommendations for me and then I was off. I think I had the profile up for like a week or so before I got my first request. I set up a meet and greet with the owner and pets and then I was off to the races! I have to say I have bonded with 90% of clients and genuinely get sad to say goodbye to them. Thankfully most of my clients are repeat clients so I get to build a great relationship with these pets. I sit mostly for dogs or dog owners who also have a cat, however lately I’ve had a few cat only clients and they’ve all been great too.

Pet sitting has proven to be a lucrative side hustle. As a high strung dog mom I get it, Freddie is old, extremely particular, and is now on 4 different pills a day taken at 3 different intervals. The whole pet market has exploded thanks to Millenials who are opting for pets over children like me. People want the best for their family and Freddie is my family and 90% of the pets I sit for rule the roost much like Fred. I get satisfaction both in spending the time with the animals, but also knowing that I am giving comfort and peace of mind to the owner.

I do have to say I’m still surprised that I am such a good dog mom/pet lover because I certainly grew up in a home where pets were things, not family members. I won’t say the animals in my home were neglected, but they were not given a life that I would want any animal I own to have. They were often in crates or tied up, not groomed often, or taken to the vet regularly. I remember as a child feeling very torn about how to treat the animals. I wanted nothing more than to have a dog sleep in my bed, but my mother wouldn’t have it. I wanted to take the dogs out for walks, but my mom didn’t want me outside by myself with them. So when it came down to it, at the time the pets weren’t worth causing drama with my mom.

I’ve had my childhood pets on my mind and in my heart lately, especially when I see how I am so capable of loving all dogs and cats - as much as Freddie is the chosen one, I also sort of thought maybe I only loved him so hard because I got him when I was so young and so soon after my dad died, but I see how I am capable of loving animals period. In my Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA) meeting last week, during my share I had planned to talk about what I just wrote, but in that moment I also made the connection that as a child I could recognize the poor care or lack of care our pets got, especially our two little girl dogs, but it wasn’t until that moment that I realized that our two girl dogs were living a parallel life to my sister and me. As a child I saw the dogs weren’t cared for properly, but I wasn’t able to recognize that my sister and I weren’t cared for properly either. That was a huge A-HA moment and will hopefully help me push through continued denial or minimizing of how I grew up.

My sister and I at least got out of my mom’s house unlike those pets who all lived extremely long lives. Skippy, a miniature poodle, my parents got before I was born and he died when I was in 3rd grade lived to be 17.  Our cat, Amber, who we got a year or so after Skippy died lived to be like 21. When I got a little older we got two Maltese, Molly and a year later we got Beeper. They lived to be ~16 and ~13 respectively. I gotta tell you if nothing else, growing up like we all did in that house did anything for us,  it made us resilient AF. These pets also learned to thrive in adversity. I hope to see these childhood pets across the rainbow bridge one day and we can have a good hug and cry together. Until then I will love and cherish any and all animals in my care.

[measuringlife]

Measuring Monday: Facing Fear

If you have a Hulu subscription and 98 minutes, I can’t recommend watching “Free Solo,” enough. It’s the Oscar-winning documentary about free solo (rocking climbing without ropes) climber Alex Honnold. I was vaguely familiar with this story, but watching his meticulous planning and approach to climbing El Cap was so inspiring. He was systematic, focused, had a support network/tribe, and wasn’t afraid. A key message throughout the doc was “do it until it’s not scary anymore.” I also loved the comparison a fellow climber made about the discipline, training, focus, and skills to free solo El Cap - imagine a gold medal worthy Olympic performance and how Alex’s option was to win the gold or die.

I came across a great Forbes article from earlier this month titled, “The Seven Lessons From “Free Solo” on Working Without a Rope”, the 7 lessons were:

The accomplishment is more preparation than performance

Know the terrain

Control the risks you can: anticipate the risks you can’t

Turn around when it’s not right

Seek mastery, not luck

Practice creates confidence

There are no “hacks”

I learned lesson 1 through marathon training. I ran a near perfect (to me) marathon in 5:04, after a serious training cycle. My second marathon I under-prepared and I willed myself to the finish dragging my sister along in 5: 28, but my third marathon I trained hard. However I knew it was going to be a tough race due to injury and 15 extra pounds of weight I was carrying since my last marathons, I finished in 5:45. As much as you focus on 26.2 miles it’s important to remember and celebrate the hundreds of miles you ran getting you to that start line. This notion holds true is all types of situations.

Know the terrain is an interesting one. Over the last year since I initially began to seriously toy with a career change/life transition, I knew I needed to really explore as much as I could before making any decisions. I started writing more, worked with a life coach, get certified in BODYPUMP, work as a fitness instructor, teach an Urban Hiking class, study my weight watchers leaders/meetings, absorb as much inspirational and aspirational health/wellness/fitness content in all forms as possible. If I am going to leap I want to know where I’m headed as well as I can.

I love lesson 3, I say it all the time - especially at my day job. I am a broken record of saying “control the control-ables” and “do your future self a favor.” I’ve come to realize how my strategic thinking skills are kinda like a superpower. I thought everyone had them, but I can just see the domino effect or the decision trees so clearly with most things. What can I avoid and what can I anticipate. Part of my anticipation skills at work has been to log and collect data that I know will be useful in the future or create documents are well labeled and put in folders where I can find them later so I can retool and send out when they are needed in a moment’s notice. I also write meeting agendas and send them 24 hours before the meeting because who knows what the next day will look like and I’d rather get it done. Any spare time I have each day at work I use 50% of it to chill for a moment and 50% of it to start tackling future projects or items that will likely be useful in the future.

Turn around when it’s not right, this is a lesson that has bitten me in the ass multiple times. Too often my ego or stubborn nature get in the way of my bailing on something or someone. I’m working on this daily. I think part of this life/career shift is to turn around from this life of a 9-5 in the same field for my whole career. My creativity is stifled and the more I head toward the light of change the more freedom I feel.

I can fully relate to practice create confidences to lesson 1 also, but faking it until you make it can only take you so far. Confidence comes from preparedness, learning, being mentored/supported, and building on smaller successes. I relied on bravado for a long time, but it’s nowhere near as powerful as confidence. When you KNOW something with every fiber of your being it’s a force to be reckoned with.

I didn’t skip lesson 5, but I tied in better with lesson 7. I’m not a lucky person, but I’ve always relied on mastery. I am getting something because of the blood, sweat, and tears I put into it. Which ties into the fact that there are no life hacks to excellence. What you put into it you will get out of it and hopefully even more. But even if it’s an exact return on investment I still think that’s worthy. Honnald said in a TED talk when asked about any hacks was “What is the thing that’s worth putting in the work for you? What is the thing that’s most important to you?” He went on to say, “Baked into that is an appreciation for the hard work and the level to which you’ve completely devoted yourself to the pursuit.” First, you need to examine yourself, your wants, your dreams, and aspirations. Then you go after it, no holds barred!

[measuringlife]

Measuring Monday: Daddy

Tumblr has been my quiet safe space for 8 years. This has been a place to grieve and be vulnerable. Much of what I compiled below for this week’s Measuring Monday was already written and shared here over the years. Only now am I beginning to share my writing more publicly and I am thankful for the space and community here when I was less brave.

The world lost a great man 11 years ago yesterday. My world especially got a lot dimmer and for sure a lot less funny.

My Dad was awesome. He was born in Brooklyn and raised on Long Island in the same town I grew up in. He was the first in his family to attend and graduate college (with an Art degree) and after being a hippie in Southern California for a few wanderlust months he went back for a Masters in Education.

My Dad was an art teacher in a low income, minority school district and he LOVED IT. He spent his ENTIRE 33-year career in the district. After teaching for 20ish years he went on to administration. He was a middle school assistant principal for a number of years and then a high school assistant principal for a number of years. They wanted him to be principal, but he didn’t want to deal with politics.

When I was in first grade my Dad started a Saturday enrichment program for K-12 students, he ran the program for 12 years. Some of my favorite childhood memories were from that program. My Dad also piloted a night school program within the school district so people could get their HS diplomas. My Dad was a pretty big deal in the K-12 Education world. Even after he retired he couldn’t stay away. The last year of his life he was teaching in an education certificate program at a Dallas Community College. My Dad was great at what he did.

We shared a love of many, many things, especially musicals. RENT was one of our favorites and after he died “Seasons of Love” took on a new meaning. I’m measuring those years within my “dash” (it’s a great poem if you are not familiar, look it up) in daylights - in sunsets - in midnights - in cups of coffee - in inches - in miles - in laughter - in strife and more.  Back in January 2010, a friend of mine challenged me to measure my year in cups of coffee, which lead to measuring my miles, my body, my health and the rest is history. I get a lot of joy and satisfaction in measuring my life. It makes life seem a little more permanent and a little less fleeting at times.

The last 3-4 years of his life I pretty much talked to my Dad every day, even multiple times a day. Since he was retired he was available to talk whenever. I generally would call him when I was walking to and from class in grad school. Even if it was just a few minutes we’d have a great chat. I can honestly say we were best friends. There are still times when I wish I had my Dad to call.

Our last day was a fabulous Daddy-Daughter day - we were dorks and really called them that. Little did I know that a week later he would be taken from me. I was living in North Texas at the time, 5 months into my first job out of grad school and I was going through a rocky patch. My Dad lived 2.5 hours away in Dallas and wanted to come up for the day to cheer me up. Plus my he was having gastric bypass surgery that Thursday and I really wanted to see him before then.

Part of the reason I moved to Texas was to be closer to my Dad. My parents got divorced after my freshman year of high school and he stayed local, but once I went to college we never lived in the same state. I was in Connecticut and he was in New York or Florida or Texas. I saw my Dad so much in those 5 months we both lived in Texas it was wonderful, some of our best times. I had a lot of ups and downs with my Dad, but our last few months were so much fun.

That last time we hung out I drove up to Oklahoma so we could go to the casino and play some slot machines. Well on the 20-mile drive to Oklahoma I get pulled over on a Sunday afternoon for doing 77 in a 70. I honestly wasn’t aware of my speed because it was an open road and because my Dad and I were singing along to the Aida soundtrack on the top of our lungs. I was so upset about the ticket, but my Dad comforted me and made me feel better, he always did. After the casino, we came back to my apartment, rearranged furniture, and just hung out.

I didn’t want him to leave. I had a sinking feeling about everything. That was the day he told me he was getting gastric bypass over a lap band. I wasn’t a fan of his decision to have either surgery, particularly not gastric bypass. He was 6'2 and 300-325 pounds MAYBE. He has lost 100 pounds through diet and exercise when I was in high school and he kept it off for 8 years before quickly gaining it back after he retired. I was disappointed that he was resorting to surgery. He had been talking about lap band for 6 months and talked to many doctors, went to consults etc. Then within a week of his surgery, his doctor talks him into gastric bypass.

His surgery was Thursday, a week before Thanksgiving. 3 days later that Sunday morning, November 18, 2017, my phone rings at 6:30am. I knew before I answered the phone that he was dead. He was still in the hospital and he essentially bled out internally. A blood transfusion and proper care could have saved his life. I was 2.5 hours away in North Texas not having been fully informed or able to fully comprehend post-op complications and too naive to realize I needed to come down. No twentysomething really thinks their Dad is going to die. I had just spent the prior Sunday with him and was scheduled to come down to Dallas Tuesday for the night before flying to NY for Thanksgiving.

I was devastated, I still am. My whole entire world forever changed. Everything about that day and the weeks and months that followed, including a failed wrongful death lawsuit due to the Texas good old boys club, was a nightmare. I sometimes wish I could “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” much of it.

He was 58, I was 24, and my sister was not quite 22. None of us were ready for him to be gone forever. My sister and I had already lost him once in 1998 when my parents separated and he moved out. To quote a friend who wrote about her Dad on his one year anniversary “I feel both lucky to have had my dad for so many years and angry that he was taken from me when I and he were too young. If I know anything better today than I did last year, it is exactly how complicated and messy life and death and grief are.”

My story is a complicated one on many levels. It’s a lot to bear, especially around the Holidays. Family drama and a Mother that I have a terrible relationship with makes things extra hard. There is no winning with her ever, my Dad was one of the few who really understood. I miss having him on my team. The sad reality is the 11 years that he’s been gone have also led to the 11 worst years in my relationship with my mom. A relationship that was rocky to begin with due to her alcoholism and emotional abuse.

The complications of life and death and grief were something I wasn’t expecting and it really causes tremendous pain. However, out of tragedy, I was finally able to find the motivation to get healthy and fit. I did the work, no shortcuts, no fad diets, and most importantly no surgery.

To quote a message from another friend years ago, about losing her mom, "Sometimes it takes the death of a loved one to wake us up. I consider that a lasting gift from my parent.” I found such comfort and hope in those words. My Daddy didn’t need that surgery and didn’t need to die. Sadly he did, but I refuse to let my weight control my life. I also couldn’t have his death be in vain. So in 2010, I started running, I took charge of my health. I also started fundraising for Accelerate Brain Cancer Cure (ABC2) since most people who have lost loved ones find solace in charity work and there wasn’t a community for my loss out there. So I adopted David Cook’s charity of choice since watching American Idol during those dark months that followed helped me get through each week.

And here I am 11 years later and in the best shape of my life thus far. I thank my Dad for that lasting gift no matter how painful it’s been. I only wish he was here to see me now and the wonderful all-around person I am today.

I’ll leave you with this. One quote I remember my Dad telling to me in a time of struggle in my life was, “Plant your own garden instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.” That quote has meant so much to me over the years. YOU only have one life and YOU need to make the most of out of, right now.

Love you Daddy.

RDJ 4/25/49-11/18/07

[measuringlife]

Measuring Monday: Journaling

If memory serves me correctly I started my first journal in January 1997. I was gifted one for Christmas 1996 and started it on January 1, 1997. 1997 was a big year. It was the year I was graduated from grammar/elementary school where I spent grades 1-8. The year started at an all-girls high school. It was the year we got a home computer and AOL. It was also the last year my family all lived together in one house.

I remember writing nightly for a number of years. I think around senior year of high school (2000-2001) my writing waned and I didn’t start writing again until the beginning of my second year of college (2002). I wrote often and kept up with it for YEARS. Books and books and books of journals filled with my horrendous chicken scratch handwriting. I also notoriously wrote the names of the boys (celebrity and real life) that I had crushes on in the inside covers of my journals. I also have made it a happen to write a closing diary entry on the last page of the journal thanking the book for being there and for listening.

As I mentioned here in 2006 I started blogging, however, from 2006-2010 my blogging was secondary to my journaling. However in 2010 when I started my Measuring Life tumblr my journal became secondary to my tumblr.  

Over the years I found that I was really only writing in my journal for the high highs and low lows. After a string of lows during mid-2017 I was done with journaling. A place I once found sacred only triggered me.  I was only about 2/3s through the journal, but I knew that there was too much negativity in there, too many memories of sobbing as I wrote. I wanted to get back to writing, but I wasn’t sure if I could commit to it. I thought about it again around the start of 2018, but I wasn’t ready. It wasn’t until Lent rolled around that I decided I could commit for the 40 days of Lent to journal. In recent years I’ve used Lent as a season to add positive habits into myself as opposed to sacrifice - I’m pretty sure Jesus is cool with it either way. Anyway, in 2018, Lent started on Valentines Day and I wrote my old journal despite it only being ⅔ used a traditional thank you entry. From there I closed out that journal that was filled with things I’d rather not read anytime soon. I cracked open a new journal and committed to writing a single page every day. One page felt manageable. Each day I wrote and each day I remembered how special this practice is for me. After successfully writing daily for those 40 days I loosened up because I felt like habit was back.

These days I aim to write about 2 times a week, sometimes I write more often, sometimes less often. I’m actually already on journal number two of the reset. I actually made it a point to buy journals with fewer pages so I could close out chapters a bit more quickly. I was so pleased when a year of journaling regularly passed. I feel like I’ve kept a good balance between what I journal, what I post on instagram regularly and what I save for these Measuring Monday posts.

As I’ve also mentioned I’ve been using a Passion Planner for 2019 and there are prompts to reflect each month and each quarter of the year, in addition to all the goal setting pages at the start of the year and another goal setting check in mid-year. Even the WW (formerly Weight Watchers) books now have space for reflective writing, I love it. I’m excited to see how I end up using these 22+ years of writing to help cohesively tell my story. I generally enjoyed the fragmented nature of microblogging, perhaps because it feels safer and I feel less vulnerable. However over these last 9 months or so I’ve really pushed myself to put it all out there and it’s been scary and rewarding as hell! I look forward to continuing to own my story and hopefully inspire others!

[measuringlife]

I remember Sunday, November 18, 2007 like yesterday. You don’t forget the day your world changes forever. I was already broken before that day, but the trauma and ptsd of losing you has had a bigger ripple than I could have imagined as a naive 24 year old.

I hate November 18.

I especially hate when it’s a Sunday.

I hate that you died at 58.

I hate that it shattered me and I’m still picking up the pieces.

I hate that you’re not here.

I hate how so many people in my life never knew you.

I hate how much I miss you still.

I hate that I have to write a post like this for people to remember you or think of you.

I hate how surprised I am that I still get so sad on this day.

[measuringlife]

Measuring Monday: Holidays from Hell

Maybe I’m not a big holiday person because holidays equate with families and I’m not really a family person. Yes, I know (and believe) family can mean many different things, but when it comes to holidays that’s generally the blood-related family time. I saw some of my family at Thanksgiving so we’re staying local for Christmas and we’ll spend tomorrow with my fiance’s family. Most of my holiday memories involve yelling, feeling uncomfortable, and that feeling of sitting on pins and needles. I’ve long established that my mom is a terror, but so is her sister and their mother. The holidays for a long whole meant bringing all 3 of them together and it was just horrific, carnage everywhere.

The mental and emotional trauma of these days will never really be something I think I can totally heal from. From little things like being forced to eat fish on Christmas Eve at my grandmother’s house before we could open presents to explosive fights over stuffing at Thanksgiving that resulted in my mom kicking my Aunt and her family out of the house before dinner and then her throwing most of the food she made away while my sister, Dad and I just sat shell-shocked and yet not totally surprised. My “traditional”  holiday task since I turned 18 has been buying my mom cigarettes - Capri ultralights. Mom never lets me drive her car, except to buy her cigarettes. One year I found a local Turkey Trot a few towns over and wanted to run it with my sister, but my mom refused to let me drive her car. I knew there was no winning because she likes to keep control over the few things she has control over, but still, it was a big fight that year. When I was home for Christmas last year fetching her cigarettes was the last request I fulfilled for her - in my car because I can no longer stand to be there without a clear escape option.

My adult years involve finding alcohol my mom hid around the house and trying to dump enough of it that wouldn’t result in me getting lashed out at. I also often spend the holidays get slurred at from my mom about “when does she get to be Grandma,” meaning when does someone else host Christmas since my Grandmother stopped hosting holidays after my Grandpa died when I was 12. For the record, I would LOVE to host a holiday and have offered, but that would involve my mom coming to my house. Which means leaving Long Island and being in a car for more than 40 minutes which are all things she doesn’t do. She came up to my grad school graduation in eastern Connecticut for the day with my grandma in 2007. That’s the last time she traveled for me and she constantly reminded me of what a taxing request it was for her to drive 2.5 hours each way. Aside from that, she hasn’t seen a place where I lived since I was a freshman in college, but that’s a whole ‘nother post.

Social media makes this time of year especially painful because sometimes I like to imagine all families are as broken and dysfunctional as mine, but then I see pictures of family game nights, family Christmas pajama parties, family hat parades, and more. It breaks my heart every single year and yet like a car accident I can’t look away. I get kicked while I’m down during the holidays thanks to the TimeHop app. Here’s a random sample of what popped up today - Christmas Eve:

2017: Pictures of cute Pomeranians on Instagram is my only drug option to keep me sane while at my mom’s house #hour2

2011: Nothing says Christmas like family members screaming at each other on the top of their lungs #crazyfamily

2010: Running errands with my sister AKA getting away from my mom for a few hours

2010: Traditional Christmas yelling is on full effect

2009: True life my mom made me curse in church because she is a crazy biotch

If this is the stuff I felt comfortable posting - crying for help -  via twitter or other social media you can only imagine what I didn’t post. In reflecting on horrible holidays what does it say that Thanksgiving 2007 doesn’t even crack the top 5 of horrible? Let me remind you my Dad died unexpectedly the Sunday before Thanksgiving that year and his wake and funeral were the 2 days after Thanksgiving. Yet I truthfully have had worst holidays. Bah Humbug feels like an appropriate way to end this post.

[measuringlife]

Measuring Monday free write is up on my official blog

[measuringlife]

My grandma passed away yesterday at age 90 after quite a few years of failing health. This picture is from my grad school graduation in 2007.

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We weren’t particularly close, but she was smart, very educated, belly danced as a hobby (even into her 60s), and taught me to curse in Slovak. But she was a very broken person for reasons she never shared or maybe fully explored, but it manifested itself in many ways. She never said please or thank you, instead she barked orders. She also was one to always remind people that they could lose some weight or had put on a few pounds. She was very critical of how her family did in school and was never satisfied with anything less than an A.

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However she was my last surviving grandparent. My dad’s dad died when I was a baby and his mom died in 2001. My mom’s dad died in 1995. She was my mom’s mom and the long reigning family “matriarch.” She was the oldest of 4 sisters and lived longer than all of them. She has 2 daughters and each of her daughters has 2 daughters. However there’s also a long history of emotionally abusive mother daughter relationships which has lead to a very splintered and dysfunctional sorority of sorts.

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My fiancé and I are heading up to New York for services which is going to be explosive I’m sure. I’m using this long car ride to prepare mentally. I hope I can get through the weekend relatively unscathed, but I don’t think I’m that lucky. I’m thankful for all the work I’ve done on myself the past 18 months particularly around my mom’s alcoholism and I have the supports to help me process things after this weekend. Thoughts are appreciated.

[measuringlife]

Measuring Monday: Finances

I know I spent a lot of time writing about high school and colleges jobs, but they were very important. Money has been a stressor most of my life. I grew up in an upper-middle-class home, where as far as material things go I could not want for anything. However, once my parents separated the financial comfort my family all knew was suddenly gone. Now that same money needed to support two households on Long Island. I was sort of able to grasp that back then and even more so now knowing what it takes to run a household.

I applied to colleges not really understanding the weight of the cost of college, even back in 2001. My parents were able to cover ~$10,000 a year, I had some scholarships, and I took out loans to cover the rest. What I didn’t anticipate was things like the cost of textbooks, food not covered in your mail plan, fun money, etc. I had a work-study job that I worked ~15 hours a week, but just at the story goes, I applied for a credit card (and got a free t-shirt for doing so) my freshman year and that’s how I paid for my textbooks and other spending money. Thankfully I was a Resident Assistant my last 2 years of college and only had to take out small loans those two years. I even chose a graduate school program mainly because it was FREE and I got free housing, a meal plan, and a small stipend. When those first round of school loan repayment bills came in 6 months after I graduate with my Masters in November 2007 I was scared. In fact, the last day I spent with my Dad was heavily based on him trying to ease my concerns about money.

Now don’t get me wrong I made some not so great financial decisions like buying not one, but TWO new cars, one at 17 and one at 23. Actually, I leased the first car at 17, which we were able to turn in early - why my parents allowed this, to begin with, I’ll never understand. I also traded down my second car for a used car and cut my car payment in half after 2.5 years.  I also lived alone from 23-29 because living in a college town and having a roommate didn’t seem like a socially acceptable option at the time. Plus wasn’t living alone and paying your bills “being an adult.” I’ll file this under elder millennial problems, it’s a different world these days, a more fiscally aware world. It wasn’t until I moved to outside DC and got a roommate that I was able to get a better grip on my finances. It’s easier to cut back on bills that aren’t rent!

I’ve made so many decisions around money. And yet I was ALWAYS juuuuust behind on money. It’s a mo’ money, mo’ problems kind of world. These days I have a grip on anticipated spending and bills, but it’s those car repairs or vet bills that can stress me out. Also, all the expenses of home ownership and renovations are no joke!  Even with a good salary and a side hustle, I’m never comfortable. I’m not behind, but I’m not comfortable. I think part of my stress around money is that I have no financial safety net in the form of a parent and haven’t since they split. I never got to make a dumb financial decision and get bailed out. I bailed myself out every time, even if it meant pawning things to pay a vet bill - true story.

I can’t write about money without talking about why we are dragging our feet wedding planning. I also have no one paying for a wedding. The unnecessary pressure I get from people, especially coworkers who don’t even matter yet make off-hand comments about “my fiance of 5 years.” Honestly everytime I think about tapping into our rainy day fund and spending money on something wedding related, it rains.  We don’t want an outlandish wedding, but we want to do the wedding we want to do, eventually. Right now we have no plans to head down to city hall and get married on paper and no set wedding plans either. We have ideas and dreams, but to save and then spend all that money in a swoop in a going to be a hard pill to swallow. I need to win some wedding contest. I applied for one once, maybe I should get back on that.

[measuringlife]

Measuring Monday: Wedding Planning

I was never the person who dreamed about their wedding, in fact I actually began to dread the reality of it - the family drama, the finances, the planning. NIGHTMARE. My then-boyfriend and I moved in together to a house he bought in Summer 2016. Not too long after on social media or tumblr I posted that as much as I want to get engaged, I was starting to understand the weight of the wedding extravaganza and wasn’t looking forward to the circus. Well of course soon after I posted that we got engaged in February 2017.

I remember asking him soon after he proposed why did he do this to me NOW?! I was literally at the beginning of a long Spring as a one-person office at work and we were planning on doing major home renovations.  I didn’t even have time to think about a wedding. So when people asked I said Fall 2018 because I knew Fall was the best time for me to take off of work and I like that time of year. Fall 2018 seemed so far off when we got engaged. The only thing we knew was that we wanted a beach wedding, but September-October is hurricane season on the east coast. So I googled something along the lines of “warmest ocean water beaches in fall without a hurricane threat” and the internet gods said Portugal and we were like sounds good.

March to September 2017 was a blur of a horrific nightmare due to work stress, renovations, mom drama, a shitty boss, and more. I was coping through not sleeping and severe workaholism. By the time I could come up for air I knew a 2018 wedding wasn’t going to happen and those closest to me knew that, but it didn’t stop the incessant questions and puzzled looks from random people when I said we hadn’t set a date or made plans. How do you tell a work acquaintance that you are trying to just keep yourself sane and finish out 2017 in one piece.

I set my intention for 2018 as “Balance” which meant no wedding planning because I knew I needed to work on me first. However this year was more about setting an intention, it was living the intention and that takes work and time. With 2018 winding down I’m happier with myself then I think I have ever been from the inside out. My fiance has also been on his own developmental journey. Together we are better now than we’ve ever been. We weathered a few storms and are stronger for it.

Last week was our 4.5 year anniversary and I joked that we are “Forever Fiances.” I was asked several times if him or I were “okay” with that. I still don’t really understand that question.

Are we okay that neither of us are really close with family and none of our family really care about our wedding because regardless of what we do it will be an inconvenience for them, if they come at all?

Are we okay that the only part of my wedding I ever “knew for sure” was that I wanted to to dance with my Dad to “On the street where you live” from My Fair Lady, but he died when I was 24 and never got to meet most of the important people in my life including my fiancé?

Are we okay with going into debt to self fund a wedding or cutting back on home improvements and aggressive mortgage payments to pay for it?

Are we okay with me doing large scale event planning for my day job and then me not really being motivated to do it in my precious free time? The free time that I’ve used to get a fitness instructor certification and lose ~25 lbs this year?

We don’t want a big flashy wedding, but we do want a wedding and we want to do it right, we just need time, money, and patience. The marriage part is what we’ve already been working on and we don’t need a piece of paper to do so. The party will come and it will be great, but I didn’t expect all the pressure put on engaged couples, particularly brides. Unless you know you will be invited to my wedding or you are willing to pay for it, please don’t ask me about it. When plans are set I’ll be the first one to shout it from the rooftop.

[measuringlife]

The John Mayer song 1983 has always been a favorite, however, if I were to write a song that was an ode to a year (and one day I just might since one of my not-so-secret dreams is to write a Broadway musical) it would be a song titled 1997. For me, 1997 was a big year of changes. It was the year I transitioned from the same private Catholic school I was at for grades 1-8 to an all-girls Catholic high school. It was the year we got a desktop Hewlett-Packard computer and AOL at home. It was a year when I was getting really into music, both the pop music of Hanson (who I still love) and the rock tunes of Eve6 and Bush. Rushing home to watch my beloved Carson Daly on MTV or listening to Z100 on my new cd-player boom box. 1997 was also the last year that my home wasn't "broken." Well, in all honestly my home was always broken, but after 1997 it became broken to the outside world. My parents separated and my Dad moved out in June 1998 right as my freshman year of high school ended leaving my sister and me to be primarily "cared" for our mentally unstable alcoholic mother. For both my sister and I, 1997 is a crystal clear frozen moment in time, it was the end of our innocence. I think that is the main reason why I love all the 1990s nostalgia, particularly the music. Over the last few weeks I've attended some fantastic concerts - Incubus, Hanson, and Darius Rucker especially when he's singing Hootie tunes (fun fact Cracked Rear View was one of the first CDs I ever owned, the first was the Clueless soundtrack). For me, music is so cathartic. It's painful and healing all at the same time. Going to concerts is one of my absolute favorite things to do in the world. I'd like to think I go to more concerts than your average 35-year-old, but for me, concerts are a combination of church and therapy. One of my mantra's on my recovery and healing journal has become you have to feel it to heal it. Music lets me feel and heal in a way that makes me feel safe. #recoveryjourney #healingjourney #selfcare #selflove #nostalgia #abandonment_issues #brokenhome #childofdivorce #adultchildrenofalcoholics

[measuringlife]

Fight Club is one of my top 10 favorite movies. There are so many great quotes and life lessons to ponder. This quote has been resonating with me a lot lately. I’ve been on a quest for freedom which I think is the ultimate form of currency in this society.