#it's been almost TWO years since I felt healthy and I'm 25

[aqlthoughts]

manifestation journal entry #1

fair warning, this is a long post and a very rambly one at that.

i was recently introduced to the sedona method by some members of the loa community on discord. from what i've gathered, the method is supposed to essentially help us learn to let go and just be. this is something that i have been struggling with since i've started to consciously apply the law. i just can't seem to let go with the bigger things that i want to call into my life. i want to be able to though. i don't want to wake up anxious anymore. i've started reading the book by hale dwoskin to see if i can reach a better understanding of my own limiting beliefs and negative emotions surrounding my manifestations.

i feel like i had a mini ah-ha moment since i started reading it last night. i woke up early this morning and couldn't fall back asleep, so i decided to read the next section of the first chapter where it talks about diving deeper into whatever negative emotion we're experiencing. to dive deep until we reach peace. reading the book actually made me feel sleepier xD so i did end up putting it down to sleep for a little bit more, maybe around 30 minutes.

i do believe that dreams can potentially reveal a limiting belief that you're holding onto. that is what happened in this case, in my opinion. to give a little backstory, one of the things i'm manifesting is a stable and healthy relationship with my boyfriend. we're currently no contact after a situation. we're not broken up, but we just haven't been talking at all while we take time to ourselves. this has been a sore spot for me for the past almost two months. by the way, if anyone has any advice for dealing with no contact situations, i'd greatly appreciate it because it does hurt a little to log onto discord to talk to my friends and not see anything from him.

i've been having trouble with detaching from this. it feels as if my thoughts keep coming back to this and i occasionally feel a wave of anxiety over it. i've mostly gotten over the feeling of having to do something for it. yet, i still struggle with detaching entirely. what i dreamt of after reading a little about the sedona method revealed what was holding me back. it was a limiting belief imposed on me by my mother. according to her, 25 is much too old to not be married. on top of that, i've been dating my boyfriend for eight years now (although she thinks it's only been five). to her, it's too late for me to start over with someone else.

that dream made me see that this is something i believed in and the reason for why i was holding on so tightly to this manifestation. instead of detaching from it because i know that i already have it in the 4D and that the 3D ALWAYS follows the 4D, i was holding onto it as if it could give me some semblance of control. at the root of it, i felt like loosening my hold would lead to loss. i would lose him and no one would want me because i'm too old. girl, that's so dumb! i shouldn't be holding onto my boyfriend because i have this silly belief that i'm too old to find love after him. i'm only 25 and this is the united states. most of my peers aren't any closer to marriage than i am. hell, i have friends who haven't even ever had relationships. if i chose, i could always find someone else. it's not impossible. i'm not too old. it's also not necessary for me to be married right now. the thing is that that's not even what i want. i don't want to be married right now.

with this knowledge, i'm slowly relinquishing my hold on the manifestation and allowing myself to just be. i am letting go of the assumption that it's much too late for me to start over and be in a relationship with someone else. now, it doesn't mean that i'm no longer assuming a state that my boyfriend and i are in a better relationship. it just means that i'm not going to work myself into a bundle of nerves and stressing about what i'm doing for that manifestation. it's just being. if i were in that state, i wouldn't be stressing over whether i'm too old to find someone else or that i should be married by now when i don't even want it.

this wasn't quite what the sedona method taught. i haven't quite reached that peace that the book talked about, but it's a start. i also know that there's a chance this doesn't make any sense to anyone else but what matters is that it does to me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

if you read this far, thank you! i've heard about the law of assumption years ago, but never really practiced it. i did a shoddy attempt at conscious manifestation about a year ago by only binging youtube videos and tiktoks. i finally got to reading source material like neville goddard a month ago. i've recently decided it's time to ACTUALLY put it to the test instead of just consuming information every day and not doing anything but wait. if any of you would like to become friends or want to talk to someone about the law, don't be afraid to reach out! i'd love to get to know more people who practice the law of assumption.

[mksc77]

For a couple of weeks, Sharon filled her days with sipping a couple of mugs of coffee on the porch and getting things done around the house in the mornings, enjoying the pool in the afternoons, and reading in the swing in the evenings once dinner was in the oven. It was a much-needed break after retiring, her honeymoon, and visiting her parents, but she tired of it fairly quickly, just as she'd known she would. On a Monday in June, she was enjoying her last day of idleness, as she planned to go to St. Joseph's the next morning to inquire about volunteer opportunities. For today, she was floating around in the pool with her book and Captain Morgan. She felt like she'd read more in the last few weeks than in her entire life, but she wasn't complaining. The weather had been mostly in the seventies and low eighties, so it hadn't been too hot. She had music playing from the porch, and she never knew if it was music that made her want a drink or alcohol that made her want good music, but her rum and pineapple juice with a splash of cranberry and sprite was melding pretty well with John Mellencamp. She hadn't made a habit of drinking during the day, but she'd allowed herself a couple of light drinks two or three afternoons a week.

The winter days, they last forever

And the weekends went by so quick

Went ridin' around this little country town

We were goin' nuts, girl, out in the sticks

One night me with my big mouth

A couple guys had to put me in my place

When I see those guys these days

We just laugh and say do you remember when

That's when a smoke was a smoke

And groovin' was groovin'

And dancin' meant everything

We were young and we were improvin'

Laughin' laughin' with our friends

Holding hands meant somethin' baby

Outside the club "Cherry Bomb"

Our hearts were really pumpin'

Say yeah yeah yeah

Say yeah yeah yeah

Seventeen has turned thirty-five

I'm surprised that we're still livin'

If we've done any wrong

I hope that we're forgiven

Got a few kids of my own

And some days I still don't know what to do

I hope that they're not laughin' too loud

When they hear me talkin'

Like this to you

Emily came out of the house, dressed in her swimsuit, and got on another float in the pool. At almost seven months, she was getting more uncomfortable, but a float in the pool usually did the trick. She and Emmett hadn't wanted to rush to get married before the baby was born, so they'd set the date for December. It didn't really matter, as far as the church was concerned, but Emily wanted them to be married before the baby was baptized. "Blair just called, and she and our other high school friends want to give me a baby shower. She told me to go ahead and start thinking about dates for a wedding shower, too."

Sharon looked over at Emily and noticed that she didn't seem too happy about it. "Your friends want to give you a couple of showers? That sounds just awful!" She said, with mock sympathy.

Emily rolled her eyes. "I just feel like I'm doing this all in the wrong order. I don't feel like I've done anything wrong, but with the wedding and the baby getting more real, I kind of wish we'd just gone ahead and planned a quick wedding before the baby came."

"Em, there was no need for you guys to do that. Unlike me, I'm sure this will be your only wedding." Sharon gave her a wry smile and sipped her drink. "You should enjoy it. You and Emmett are giving this baby a family that loves her and will take care of her, and that's all that matters. The order in which you do this isn't important."

"I know, but with the showers that are being planned and everything, it's just making me more aware of the fact that I'm having a baby before I'm married. Everyone's been great about it, and I haven't really thought much about it until now, but it just seems off or something."

Sharon was a little surprised that Emily was starting to feel the old Catholic Guilt, but she understood. "Once things pick up and you don't have time to overthink everything, I think you'll feel better about it. This in-between stage is unsettling, in general, and I know you've never liked change."

Emily nodded. "I think you're right. Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome." Sharon placed her drink beside the pool and flipped over to lie on her stomach. Despite slathering herself with sunscreen every day, she was still getting a little bit of a tan. Any skin damage she had from the sun had probably mostly happened during the baby oil and iodine days of her teenaged years and young adulthood, anyway, when the sun's rays weren't thought to be anything but healthy. She wasn't in the pool for the purpose of tanning, but she loved to be in the water and feel the sun soaking into her skin. She'd never been much of a swimmer for exercise, but she'd been making herself swim a few laps most afternoons. Once she got herself settled into a more productive routine, she planned to take either morning or evening walks around the neighborhood, but she'd stick with floating around the pool for now.

A couple of hours later, with dinner in the oven, Sharon assumed her evening perch in the swing with her book and a glass of wine. Andy came home soon after that and joined her on the porch. "Am I just going to have to get used to being a swing widow?" He teased. Their evening dynamics had definitely changed since they moved. At the condo, Sharon sometimes sat on the balcony for a while in the evenings after watering the flowers, but she was still usually inside for most of the evenings. Now, she usually went inside just long enough to eat dinner and help clean the kitchen before going straight back to the porch.

"You can always come out here," Sharon pointed out.

"But the game will be on in there," Andy protested.

"True..." Sharon looked around. "We should put a TV out here. It would be nice to watch football out here this Fall."

"Then you'd never go inside." Andy pecked her on the lips. "How was your day?"

"It was nice, but I'm ready to get out of the house. I'm going to start at church tomorrow, but I think I'd like to pick one or two places and stick with them for a while instead of doing things here and there like the people at church do. I know they'll be able to steer me in the right direction, though." Sharon closed her book. "What about you? Is Captain Hernandez any better?"

Andy heaved a dramatic sigh. "She sent my paperwork back three times before it was finally good enough for her! And I thought you were a perfectionist."

Sharon had been a stickler about paperwork at the beginning, but she quickly learned to appreciate the talents her team had in other areas of investigations and gave up on perfect paperwork from them. "She'll learn to pick her battles, just like I did."

"Pick your battles? You sound like you're talking about toddlers!" Andy whined.

"Well, some days I felt like I was dealing with toddlers." Sharon kissed Andy and went inside to check on dinner, and Andy went inside to change clothes. Sharon peeked into the living room first, and Emily was watching TV with a jar of pickles in her lap. Sharon still wasn't used to Emily not being pencil-thin. Her face had filled out a little, and her legs were actually a little bigger than twigs. "Dinner will be ready soon...By the time this baby comes, I'm going to forget what you look like without a jar of pickles in your hand!"

"I know, right? If it's not pickles, it's watermelon. At least I'm not craving something terribly unhealthy."

Sharon nodded. "Yeah, like the strawberry ice cream that's still on my thighs thirty-five years later."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Mom, your legs are, like, perfect."

"They're not perfect, but I'll take it.”

The rest is on ff.net

[tamiddyinyourcity]

9:12pm, life is a mess, as always, so here I am to let yall know about it.

Wednesday, January 29th of 2020.

Sigh.

So....

I just learned my mom is giving away ine of my cats tomorrow. She's my favorite cat, and literally had been there for me to comfort me whenever I sobbed around the house all alone by myself. And that time I considered killing myself when my great ex, Patrick #1, left for college, rendering me alone and friendless..... She was there, and her rubbing her cute furry face on my ankles and swirling her tail around my legs were the only thing to fucking stop me. Nothing else did.... I love Klay, everyone knows that. When she finally returned home after an entire month of being out the house, I literally sat at my doorstep sobbing my fucking eyes out at how scrawny she was, and how my favorute fat little gluttonous cat with the sleepy eyes turned so dirty and skinny and half dead looking.... I really pray that she finds a great new owner. ASPCA kills animals, so I really dont want such a sweet, and now finally healthy, cat to fall victim to this terrible fate. I wish theres more I could do, but I don't even know.....

Just feeling a bit off. I made a post online somewhere to make new friends in the area.... Suddenly getting cold feet at the responses. Probably since most of the people are over 25, and..... Yeah, what am I gonna have in common with an almost 30 year old? And one person I felt I could really click with didn't reply.... A bit bummed at that.

I paid FIFTY DOLLARS FOR ART SUPPLIES at the art store, just for the alarm to still ring when I left out???? I panicked and deadass just walked out. No one had chased me. BUT BITCH! turns out someone left an electronic tag on my markers..... FUCKER. I COULDVE JUST STOLE THE DAMN MARKERS AND KEPT MY FIFTY BUCKS IF I COULD PURCHASE EVERY ITEM AND STILL LOOK GUILTY AS FUCK EITHER WAY?????? BITCH????? karma is gonna reap that store i swear to god

The depressing amount of phone numbers in my contacts list that wouldnt reply to me even if i messaged them...... greaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat.

No comment about my ex, so far. At least there is that.

...

Also, the coronavirus! Apparently a plane from Wuhan landed in SF..... AND NO ONE COVERS THEIR FUCKING MOUTH WHEN THEY COUGH IN SAN FRANCISCO, EVERY SURFACE IS STICKY, NO ONE WASHES THEIR FUCKING HANDS, PEOPLE DEADASS WILL WIPE THEIR NOSE THEN SHAKE HANDS WITH SOMEONE TWO SECONDS LATER......

Cool? I'm gonna quarantine. Yall aint gone hear from me. Fuck yall niggas, im drinking nothing but spring water and Lysol, until the plague finally kills the nasty ones, and then capitalism ends, since more people dying than the ones able to work.

I feel bad for nobody but the homeless, and the poor good hearted hygenic people caught in the crossfires; anyone else can choke on shit. (Is this offensive to say? I'm literally saying that people with bad souls and who refuse to care about if their germs reach other people are shitheads, anyone else is a good person who i genuinely hope will turn out okay.)

WHY IS THERE GONNA BE A PLAGUE? FUCK.

okay, anyway.

Good news:

My boss, (now ex-boss, since it was a temp job,) planned to get pedicures this weekend! I'm always open to new friendships! I've got no other choice but to socialize either way, since staring at walls or a phone screen? Is depressing! Getting dolled up with another cool human being? Hella nice! Can't wait to tell her all the shit that I avoided in order to prevent getting fired before!

I met a few good people online either way! One likes Junji Ito, another is actually my age and wants to grab a bite around the city. Feels good to have options. Plus to be honest, if anyone does end up romantic, then itll be dope having someone to spend V-Day with. (It doesnt have to be a capitalist holiday, i see it as a good holiday to simply soend time with someone.... Then again, i usually think, "FUCK, WHAT IS A GOOD DISPLAY OF MY AFFECTIONS?", and have a tendency to overwhelm people with surprises sometimes.... Its a cute holiday and an excuse to give my favorite people some candy or flowers, a 50 cent Honey Bun, or some 99 cent jewelry that i can pass off as more expensive than it actually was..... what's wrong with that? Its so cute as a concept.)

Actually having money again feels so gooood. I keep blowing money on food and ubers, but alas, apparently thats much better than starving and taking a bus thats riddled with piss. I got to buy some SEXY ASS body washes that make me smell good effortlessly... some SEXY ASS body highlighters and shimmer powders.... hella face masks and some facial wipes that instantly made my skin go from 0/10 to 10000/10. Like???? i wanna make out with myself. i also got some body scrubs, like.... yall..... oh my god yall dont even know--

I really am a great person, and that feels nice, man. :) both emotionally and physically! mainly physically, but i am healing from my past and slowly but definitely getting noticeable progress for my health in terms of emotions and stuff for now.

I feel good so far.

Plus, funny how i quite literally stumble into my friendships, very often. Its never being introduced to someone, its me deciding "hey fucker im dm sliding you at 2am, i love your memes and your hair, are you up?"

Or a "i just showed up to this party, checked out the location tag for the spot on instagram, and followed every motherfucker thats at the same party tonight. I definitely do not know you, but i mean, hey! Look at my memes, stories, and photos. See if theyre chill. Then dm slide me!"

Hell, even how I met Patrick #2 is unusual as fuck, the FULL story, including how i knew one of his mutual friends somehow.... buuuut, life isnt that simple bro.

....

Now that i think about it, how did i even meet this guy? I dont know how i found his account at all. I was even thinking "didnt I meet him through Audrey?", but.... i still dont think so?????? Somehow he knows one of my mutuals, idk????????????

But, i trust that he is not an FBI agent that had planned for years to finally get involved with my life, with a fake persona. (I havent done any crimes yet for him to need to do so, but i mean, a backstory like that would explain why he still wanted to be around me, even through shitty times before.... Extremely tolerant and patient dude. He would make a pretty good lawyer, if he ever learns how to raise his voice up some day.)

.....

Cute guy. A shame shit didnt work out. But i like reminiscing on the moments had between us.

Sadly our bad memories are sticking. Moreso the two separate nights that things got... complicated. He looked good on both of those nights. He's got a real nerdy look to him? Its oddly hot. I dunno how to explain why i find him attractive to people who like aggressive or rowdy dudes.

But he's just ridiculously pretty for a dude? Handsome men are okay, and easy to get over. But a PRETTY BOY? THAT IS SO HARD. Especially when they got the nice skin and the eyes and the nice red lips???? Shiny hair???? Mans is cute.

(This applies to more than one ex, tbh.)

The big difference between a pretty boy and a generically attractive man is that you can find a lot more generic men, but rarely any pretty boys.

Like how you can find a million Machine Gun Kellys or Modern Day Justin Biebers, on the side of traffic or stealing from gas stations, but whens the next time the world will see a young/old Johnny Depp? A Timothee Chalamet? A young Leonardo Dicaprio? A YOUNG Justin Bieber? (I would say "an age appropriate Finn Wolfhard," but idk if thats considered creepy or not.... but im saying in a completely non-predatory way.... dude is adorable, honestly.)

The difference between a generic man and a pretty boy, is that the pretty boy is a lot more unique. Since out of hoards of men with unwashed asses and shitty styles, the Pretty Boy is out here with half decent hygiene, (sometimes,) and looking effortlessly attractive? Like a whole fairytale character. Or like a Disney Prince Charming... or a Disney Princess. (Matty looked like he could've been a prince, nigga was GORGEOUS, i swear to fucking god.... GOD, wow.)

A normal man is eh. A pretty boy can snatch your soul and hand deliver it to hell in a ribbon tied handbasket.

And I've dated ridiculously pretty men. Adrian was a cross between "handsome" and "pretty", but he leaned towards pretty. Literally gorgeous. Z*ck #2 was so stunning, i loved their face dude. Patrick #1.... hes both, but he definitely had gorgeous eyes and skin, and trust me, he was one of the most amazing men to be with.

And Patrick #2 is a pretty boy. And, self-aware, too. He's told me before about how hes definitely had people interested in him, but not knowing how to approach them, or flirt back...

And when we had our first breakup, he got tons of matches, (since hes fine as fuck,) but most conversations died at a "How are you?", or "So, what are your interests?", and got unmatched pretty quickly.

...... Even though I was a little pleased he hadnt moved on, it was like.... "Damn, bro, im so sorry to hear that." (Even I had options.... Not great ones. But, even i got to see almost two people before....)

Patrick even told me on our most recent walk around the cemetery a few weeks back, that he saw himself as having the "face of Adonis"..... okay, hoe.

He was kidding, but its not like it was a lie even if he had been serious. Mans has a seriously nice face. Even on that day, at some point his glasses straight up crumbled, and having direct eye contact with those blue ass eyes was WAY too much. I think I went into a coughing fit? or something.

He's definitely someone I think I'm over, until that direct eye contact hits, then suddenly look at who starts blushing or trying to hide their face? Me, bitch. God. Nigga just HAD to have super light and bright blue eyes? The universe went "make this bitch suffer if she ever cant fuck him again".

And thus, i suffer.

But anyway.

He's a really pretty dude, with nice skin, teeth, eyes, lips, and hair. And a pretty dope nose, since I dig people who have big ass noses. And idk, i guess i dig the mildly grungey, yet still colorful, and lowkey thing he always had goin on.

Felt good meeting someone I had a lot in common with. :)

Sad to know that even on our worst nights, I still kinda had to not look at him. Since.... Yeah, I'd either cry, or instantly want to fuck. And if you're in the middle of explaining to your ex why you had felt betrayed, you gotta avoid saying, "Hey Patrick, do you want to fuck?" (That method doesnt work on EVERYONE, only the select few people with serious issues ive met.)

Whatever.

I just dislike that even on days where I felt absolutely disgusted by him, I could still go, "But, he's still really cute. Damn, look at HIM", and have my pussy throb if i looked at him for too long.

......

He's hot and he knows it. We stan a self aware king. But still, i gottaaaaa move on.

And nooooooot think about the specific smile or eyes he gave me before.

And nooooooot think about that time in the ki-

ALRIGHT BITCH THATS ENOUGH. My whole body feels overheated. I'm blaming it on my period. I'm gonna.... go to sleep soon. Peace out.

10:35pm, making friends and still constantly upgrading in life. Aaaaay. :)

[danithebookaholic-blog]

I'm Not Good Enough

TOPIC OF THE DAY: I’m Not Good Enough

I’m about to get real personal here with you…

I’m not good enough is an excuse/issue I have had battles with a lot before in the past. And I still do to this day, just not to the same degree that I used to. Let me tell you a story…

Just days after my 28th birthday I found myself in a life situation I never thought I would be in: my marriage had fallen to pieces and Jack was asking me for a divorce.

I fell into a very deep depression. I didn’t eat for nearly a week, I cried anytime I was alone and I didn’t smile for weeks. My life, the life I had spent the last 14 years building with this person, was ending and I didn’t know how to cope.

Jack and I were high school sweethearts. We met when I was 14, and he was 16. In the beginning we didn't even connect on an emotional level. Jack actually tried hooking me up with his friend Aaron at the time. But a few weeks later when fate would have our paths cross again we finally connected in a way that only young teenagers in love can. It took me almost a year of dating before I said those three gigantic words, and even then they just kind of slipped out before I realized what I was saying. A few heart stopping seconds later (after we both realized what was said) he responded with, "I think I love you, too", and the rest was history.

Almost nine years into our marriage, and there were were with our marriage on the verge of death. Blame it on the "seven-year-itch" coming late. Blame it on the stresses of his school work and the fact that we were living with another couple at the time (not the best idea). Blame it on the fact that I had become very insecure not only in my husband and our marriage (and vice versa), but I was also very insecure in myself as well - something he told me on a daily basis was "not attractive."  Blame it on the loss of love and trust and that spark that we once had in our marriage and in one another. Or you can even blame it on the fact that I thought Jack was sleeping with our female roommate who was a colleague, a classmate and his "best friend" (his words, not mine). No matter what you blame it on, the deathbed our marriage was on was because we put it there.

The night he asked for a divorce I was a mess (obviously). I didn't know what to do or where to go. In the end, I spent the night barely sleeping on the floor of our walk-in closet, and I left the house by 4:30 am because I couldn't stand to be in the house any longer. I needed to escape the house, him, and the other couple. I wanted nothing to do with anyone in that house and had it not been for Miyagi and Simon (our dog and cat, my babies) still being there, I don't know if I would have ever returned.

Not knowing where to go, I headed to the gym. I had begun working out at the gym at 6:00 am, when it opened,  every weekday morning a few months prior, so I just stuck with my routine. I sat in the parking lot of the deserted gym for a little over an hour before the first employee showed up. Thankfully, because it had snowed the night before, they let me into the building early. This was the first day of my battle with depression, and the first day of my workout obsession to cope with it.

Every morning I would leave the house by 5:00 am (weekday or not), go to the gym where I would run for at least an hour or two. If it was the weekend I would then follow that up with weight lifting for another hour or two.  I would spend my day doing anything and everything that I could to keep my mind off of the situation and Jack. I burried it as deep down inside that I possibly could, and then I'd push it down farther. I went into work 30-40 minutes early, stayed an hour late, and then would head back over to the gym for another run before I would finally head "home" around 9-9:30 pm. Once there I would take care of the boys as quickly as possible, and on days that I felt like I could eat something and keep it down, I'd grab a small bowl of cereal or some cheese and pepperoni on crackers (absolutely nothing healthy or nutritious), and I would eat this locked in my room, away from anyone who might be in the house. After I would promptly go to bed.

I didn't speak to Jack for almost two weeks after that black day. The first person I did speak to about it was a complete shock, and I'm sure it was to him too. It was Dan, my boss at the time.

Three days after Jack  hit me with the dooming fate of our relationship, a lab tech - who stops by the office daily - looked at me and said, "I don't know what's going on, but know that I'm praying that you get through whatever you're going through." I almost burst into tears on the spot. But I take professionalism very seriously, so I held it together, took a deep breath, and thanked him with the best smile I could muster. I'm sure it was very scary to look at. A half hour later, I pulled Dan aside and asked to speak with him in private. I hadn't planned on telling Dan anything at all about my situation. I had only been working for him for about six months at the time, and we didn't have a relationship beyond being the employer and the employee. I had asked to speak with him so I could apologize for my behavior and attitude over the last few days. That I was dealing with some personal stuff that I needed to check at the door and intended in doing so from here on out. But I never made it past saying, "Dan, I'm sorry." The sweet man, only a few years my senior, handed me a box of tissues and told me to take my time, he could wait.

It took me 25 minutes to tell him what was going on between the sobs, and he listened patiently the entire time, never offering advice or pity. He knew the only thing I needed was someone to talk to. While he never said anything, he had noticed the changes in me: arriving early, staying late, not eating at lunch, no perky smile, no small talk, and no emotion. Today, friends tell me I was nothing but a walking shell of a human. I wasn't really there. My body was, but I wasn't, and Dan had noticed this too. 

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At the beginning of February my great-aunt Teddy (from my mother's side) pasted away. Privately, I took it kind of hard, even though the family knew it was coming. She had been ill, and knowing she wasn't going to make it out of the hospital, I visited her a few days before her passing. A week later, I went to the funeral and it was here that I laughed for the first time in almost three weeks. You're probably thinking, who laughs at a funeral? But this is exactly what Teddy would have wanted. She never liked being fussed over or being the center of attention. She was the matriarch of the family and she was the one that was always taking care of us, not the other way around. I know those last few weeks of her life must have been the most difficult for this reason alone. A group of us - my God-parents; God-sister, Brandy; my brother, Oscar; and my Aunt Betty (from my father's side) sat around catching up, telling stories of Teddy and her crazy ways (no joke, she was a 50/50 mix of Lucille Ball and Edith Bunker), and just laughing and carrying on. It was during this time that I remembered what life was like and that no matter what, these people loved me and would do anything for me.

Before leaving the funeral, Betty pulled my mother aside and asked if I was okay. She had noticed how thin I was and that I wasn't myself. My mother told her that I had started running a few months earlier and she was sure this was the change. Later, when my mother brought it to my attention, I too blew it off. I had already lost almost 25 pounds since divorce was mentioned. I was pale and sickly looking. My hair and skin were dull and my eyes didn't shine. I looked terrible.

Jack and I had talked a couple of times at this point, and we had come to the decision to try to make some changes and see if we could make it work. While I had picked up this really healthy habit, deep down I knew I had taken it and turned it against me too. Eventually this realization made me take two steps back and evaluate where I was in life and where I wanted to go. I looked at myself and knew I needed to find help. I started seeing a therapist. 

Seeing my therapist, Erica, was the absolute best thing I ever could have done for me. Yes, she was great for my marriage eventually, too, but first and foremost she was great for me. If you're dealing with depression I strongly suggest that you start seeing a therapist. There is such a stigma about seeing a therapist, I didn't want to do it. It took everything I had to pick up the phone and make that first appointment, and then even more to drive myself to the appointment, but I wouldn't take any of it back. Meeting Erica the first time I thought for sure that she thought I was crazy because I cried the entire first session. But I returned later that week for my second session and I did much better. After a couple of weeks of seeing her she finally suggested to me that she thought that I needed to try medication for my depression. Erica is not a psychiatrist, she's a therapist/yoga instructor. She doesn't take telling a patient to begin medical therapy easily, but in my case she thought it would help. And eventually, once we figured out the right medication, it did. And it helped even more when I was running.

I was still running at the gym every morning through all of this. While Jack and I were on speaking terms and passively working on our marriage, I had also picked up running with my friends Shelby and Ashley. Shelby had mentioned to me that she was going to run the Decker's Creek Half Marathon in early June and asked if I would like to do some training with her. Of course I jumped at the chance. I needed something that would prove my worth and this was something that I had never done before and I (at the time) didn't know many people who could personally say that they had run a half marathon before. Jack couldn't. I needed to prove that I could do something that he couldn't. 

I began running with Shelby at 5:00 am on the trail three times a week, while running my long runs with Ashley on the weekends, and I still kept up my other running and workouts at the gym on the off days. When I wasn't seeing Erica, these girls were my therapists. They helped me through everything and saw me at my weakest and ugliest moments. On top of that, it was the end of March at this point and I had lost almost another 10 pounds. While the anti-depressant was helping me get happy, the anorexia and extreme workouts still played a big role in keeping me happy.

Jack began seeing Erica with me every other week. It was a bit of a fight to get him to go each time, but he went. The day before the race I asked Jack if he would be at the finish line. He said he didn't think our relationship was there yet, and thought it best if I had this one to myself and shared it only with my friends. The only person waiting for me at the finish line was my mom who had driven the 2+ hours to get there that morning. It broke my heart all over again not seeing him there, supporting me. And to be honest, it made our relationship take a huge leap backward.

Ashley and I ran the race together and we did really great for it being our first race. We missed our goal time by only 2 minutes. But here I was, six months after that terrible night, and I still was not gaining weight. Yes, I was running half marathons just about weekly at this point, but I was eating all the time, and not the healthy stuff. My depression still had a death hold on my body. I was 45 pounds lighter than I had been at Christmas. For me to have lost 10 pounds it would have been a very healthy weight for my gender, age and height; 45 was sickening. While you couldn’t quite see the bones in my back and I didn’t have a concave stomach, you could see my ribs, and not in healthy, sexy sort of way. I needed a change, and I knew it.

Decker's Creek Half Marathon was the first and, until this past April, my last 13-miler I have run. For the longest time I was scared of what training again might do it me. Would it be a healthy thing for me to do, or would it push me back over the edge into the skeleton person I was. I know a lot of that person had to do with my depression, too, but it was still a scary thought.

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A year went by, and things were better to a degree with Jack. While divorce had been taken off the table, we still no where close to being perfect, let alone fixed, and I was still on anti-depressants. Then, disaster struck again. With Jack's degree program he had signed up for a rotation in the Middle East. I was okay with this, it wouldn't be his first time in the Middle East, he had spent sometime there while in the military. The disaster was that the female roommate, the one I was positive he was/had had an affair with, was going too. They would be overseas for a month together. Alone. While I think I held it together pretty well (Dan had no idea this time around at least), I was falling apart on the inside and I fell back into my depression. While Jack was away on his rotations leading up to his time overseas, I would hardly get out of bed. I stopped working out all together, and I stopped talking to my friends, the people I knew I could count on to get me through anything.

And then Jack left for the Middle-East and something in me just snapped. I don't know what it was. Call it a mid-life crisis, or a breakdown, or even an act of insanity, but I called up my friend Meghan and asked for a favor. Two days before Easter, Meghan turned me into a blonde. 

While going blonde may not seem like a big act for a lot of people, it was for me. I had never dyed my hair in my life. I was in love with my hair color and was extremely proud of it. On top of that, Jack didn't find blondes attractive in the slightest. Why on Earth did I want to go blonde when I was trying to make my relationship with my husband better?! 

On top of dying my hair a color he didn't find attractive, I didn't tell him about it. Two weeks later I went to Washington Dulles airport to pick him (and the roommate) up. I stood off to the side and waited. Maybe I wanted a disguise so I could spy on the two of them? I don't know. But once I saw him pushing his cart 10 feet in front of her, looking around excitedly for me, I knew that no matter what had happened in the past, it didn't matter any more. He was excited to see me, and that put the butterflies back in my stomach. It made everything we had worth fighting for that much greater.

Every day I fought with not being good enough. I wasn’t pretty enough. I wasn’t thin enough. I didn’t have the perfect job, the perfect car, the perfect house, husband or family. I developed an addiction to running, to be good enough. I stopped eating, to be good enough. I put all my left over energy into my job, to be good enough. I dyed my hair, to be good enough. I looked for ways to make my husband jealous, to be good enough. And I lost myself, to be good enough. But none of those things made me good enough.

It took 2 years of weekly therapy, antidepressants, and a team of beautiful and strong women to get me to see that I was good enough all a long. And it’s taken almost 4 years to really believe it. Now when I look in the mirror, I don’t see not good enough. Now I see a strong, beautiful woman that is more than good enough.

Take a look in the mirror. What do you see? I hope you see someone that is more than good enough, because you are! No matter what your spouse, or your mother, or that person you idolized in high school tells you, YOU ARE MORE THAN GOOD ENOUGH!

💋 - Dani

P.S. Make sure to check out my Facebook Page for more information on today’s TOPIC OF THE DAY!.

[racheltkellogg]

It's official: I'm living with a chronic disease

It’s been three days since I received word from my doctor: I have gastroparesis. It sounds kinda scary, the word even looks a little scary - but my initial thoughts: this shit has gotta be temporary. There’s no way a (somewhat healthy) 27-year-old woman’s stomach would become paralyzed and just stop operating, right? Nope, wrong. In fact, my stomach fails to process food for more than four hours - and sometimes for days on end. For the past six months, I’ve been dealing with non-stop pain every time I wake up and every time I eat…that I’ve just stopped eating altogether. I’ve lost about 25 pounds along with my full mental capacity. I’m constantly in a cloud - only feeling ‘half’ there.

It’s a vicious cycle guys: choosing not to eat to avoid pain (but then ending up with massive headaches and nausea) or choosing to eat, and feeling sick to my stomach minutes later - sometimes even on the verge of throwing up. Again, I’ve been living like this for almost six months now. When my stomach isn’t in pain, I’m sleeping for 12 to 24 hours sometimes. My body’s drained - and I’m stuck in this damaging, cyclic routine where I eat maybe once a day just to stay alive. People have shrugged their shoulders when I talk about it: “oh, it’s just a stomach ache - take some Tums and you should be fine”.

Ha - if only it were that simple.

After a good couple of days without much to eat, my stomach is back to feeling weighed down by a ton of bricks. Unfortunately, with gastroparesis, the food you eat fails to leave the stomach - and ends up piling up for who knows how long. I’ve been instructed by my doctor to only eat white bread, juices, water and lean meats - no raw veggies, fruits, whole grains. I really didn’t eat much of anything the day I received my diagnosis (Saturday, two days ago). My boyfriend has been the sweetest through all of this, vowing to make sure every one of our meals is “gastroparesis-friendly”. He made that first meal for me yesterday (Sunday). Small amounts of baked chicken, diced sweet potatoes with some cooked fennel. I felt great until I woke up this morning…my stomach full as ever, throbbing to the point that I can’t think passed the pain. But that’s been every day for me the last six months, gradually getting worse and worse and worse. Today, I honestly feel like shit. I forced myself to eat after work (boyfriend’s meal was 24 hours ago) - and here I am sick as a dog. When does the cycle end?

It doesn’t.

I’ve read blog post on blog post, medical website upon medical website - and they all have one thing in common: my life and the way I live it…is forever changed. I can no longer eat foods the way I’ve been taught my whole life. I can’t simply go out for a drink with friends without reeling he consequences later. I’m not allowed to sit after a meal, and if this worsens - I could end up on a feeding tube, be in surgery for a bezoar, or worse: forced to take a gnarly drug that’s black-boxed by the FDA. All three of those things could happen too.

This whole thing is still so new. I’m terrified and am just trying to keep it together. Thankfully, I have the full support of my boyfriend and family - otherwise, I’m not sure I’d be able to pull this off on my own.

I’m meeting with the doc in a week - and she should have more updates about next steps. But one thing I know needs to be addressed: my career. My overnight hours. My complex lifestyle.

I must keep pushing. I refuse to let this disease get the best of me.