It's hard to admit but I'm in slump: mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically. I've gained 7 lbs in the past three months. I no longer say "No" to items I wouldn't have even considered putting into my body five months ago. I don't like the way I feel but I'm struggling to fix my decisions at home. My experiences at LA Fitness haven't been helping my fitness goals. I build my workout schedule around my training appointments but the last 5 out of 6 times that I've showed up for an appointment, there hasn't been a trainer available or the trainer cancelled an hour or two before my appointment. I'm not getting the accountability and encouragement that I need, the reason I signed up for more training anyway. I know how to work myself out. I don't need someone to just run me through workouts. I need encouragement and a friend in this journey. I don't want to go the opposite direction anymore. I'm tired of making stupid food choices that I only regret later. My pants are too snug, I don't feel good in my clothes anymore. It's just frustrating to go backwards in everything I worked for. I want so bad to be able to move back to Utah for a couple more years in order to finish this journey with a trainer that I know has my best interest in mind, not just money.
I'm frustrated with family members that aren't looking out or my best interest. A particular one that doesn't understand that I don't want to look for jobs just in this area. I'm not happy here. Yeah, things are okay but I don't glow like I did all last year.
I need to find a way to get remotivated. I'm almost two weeks into my 3 - 4 weeks without running, cycling, zumba, lunges, etc. Hopefully, my knee will be healed and I can slowly get back into my old routine. I think that not running makes me cranky.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
opinions needed
I have a question for you all and could use some of your opinions. So, a good five or six years ago, I made a two-page scrapbook layout with pictures and captions about my relationship with Brian (We were still dating and talking about marriage when I made this). I have since ripped off a couple of the text blocks but what about the photos? Is it acceptable to keep them in the scrapbook or should I just toss those pages all together? It was my first (and let's be honest, until recently, only) serious relationship. And I did run into Victor again while I was with Brian at the gas station...okay, actually I had left Brian's apartment after an argument and walked across the street to the gas station but still, you get the point. (Funny how those things work).
Any words of advice would be greatly appreciated.
Any words of advice would be greatly appreciated.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
3-2-1
What I've been fighting and resisting for the past two years finally happened. Those three sacred little words slipped off my tongue tonight. I was caught off guard and just let my feelings slip right on out with my "I love you too". Is this a bad thing, of course not! It just means that it's getting serious. I don't throw those three little words around. In fact, I haven't used them with a guy since...about this time in 2007. That's five years of saving those words to use at the right moment with someone truly special. Although I hoped that my first use would not involve saying them into a phone while looking at him with a piece of glass separating us. It is what it is, and I'm now over that big hurdle of figuring out how to verbalize my emotions.
I never expected this to happen. That visit to the halfway house two years ago was simply to see an old friend. Something touched my heart and I fell; I fell hard.
"We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly." - from somewhere on Facebook
And with that, I say goodnight.
I never expected this to happen. That visit to the halfway house two years ago was simply to see an old friend. Something touched my heart and I fell; I fell hard.
"We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly." - from somewhere on Facebook
And with that, I say goodnight.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Never tell a trainer that the workout was "too easy"
Seriously, I thought I was going to die right there on that gym mat.
Row 500 meters as quickly as possible
20 kettle bell sweeps (35 lbs)
20 clean and press (10 each arm - 20 lbs)
10 burpees (I haaaaate burpees)
20 breakdowns (plank position while continuously switching between resting on forearms and palms)
all as quickly as possible - repeat two times.
Anytime I stopped to wipe the sweat from my face or take a sip of water, I got yelled at to keep moving.
It sounds easy but I was drenched.
The story behind why this happened to me. They had me work with a female trainer early last week (nothing against female trainers...I want to be one). The first exercise was a bicep curl/shoulder press. She handed me a 7.5 dumbbell. I seriously stood there and laughed for a moment before telling her that I would need the 15s. She continued through a workout, which was decent but all stuff that I already do on my own. It wasn't challenging me. I guess the way I talked to the Trainer Director about it, he understood that I thought it was "too easy." That and I referenced to having one of the best trainers before having to move. So, he decided to kill me on Friday to prove a point. Point taken but I liked every moment of it, just sayin'. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.
Row 500 meters as quickly as possible
20 kettle bell sweeps (35 lbs)
20 clean and press (10 each arm - 20 lbs)
10 burpees (I haaaaate burpees)
20 breakdowns (plank position while continuously switching between resting on forearms and palms)
all as quickly as possible - repeat two times.
Anytime I stopped to wipe the sweat from my face or take a sip of water, I got yelled at to keep moving.
It sounds easy but I was drenched.
The story behind why this happened to me. They had me work with a female trainer early last week (nothing against female trainers...I want to be one). The first exercise was a bicep curl/shoulder press. She handed me a 7.5 dumbbell. I seriously stood there and laughed for a moment before telling her that I would need the 15s. She continued through a workout, which was decent but all stuff that I already do on my own. It wasn't challenging me. I guess the way I talked to the Trainer Director about it, he understood that I thought it was "too easy." That and I referenced to having one of the best trainers before having to move. So, he decided to kill me on Friday to prove a point. Point taken but I liked every moment of it, just sayin'. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Victor
Tonight, I went majorly out of my comfort zone and conquered a pretty big fear that has made me procrastinate on seeing someone special. But tonight, I finally got to see this beautiful face for the first time in seventeen long months:
The process was intimidating and the dreary, rainy weather was fitting to the anxious emotions I was feeling. The walk from the parking lot was dark and dismal. I, at one point, thought to myself, "Watch, I'm going to get mugged outside of the prison." My slow and fearful walk turned into quick and anxious steps. I proceeded into the tiny entrance way where I checked my cell phone (yeah, I'll leave everything in the car next time), ran my purse through the security scanner and took a journey through the metal detector.
Upon entering the lobby, my first impression was fear of touching anything. The walls were institutional cream combined with institutional waiting area chairs painted in a chipping and graffiti covered green. I walked into the bathroom to grab some TP to use as a tissue. After one glance into the stall, I was grateful that I did not have a need to use the facilities. Again, still scared to touch anything.
I signed in, passing my ID through the metal whole in the glass and was instructed to leave my purse in one of the lobby lockers. I waited, twiddled my thumbs, thought about how I would feel after seeing Victor for the first time in a year and a half, whether I could handle being separated by glass, etc. Then the moment came; a female staff member yelled out, "Okay ladies." Everyone got up and seemed to know what to do. I was not expecting the pat down and almost decided to walk right back out the door. I even looked at the lady and was like, "I don't know if visiting him is worth this." At the time, I felt like I was losing a bit of my integrity.
Upon entering the visitation area, I took my seat next to one of the phones and chatted with the girl next to me as a I waited. She had just spent a night in the facility to the other week but her boyfriend has just gotten transferred there; he gets out in July. I was definitely not like the other girls around me and it showed. It's funny because in movies and television shows, these visitations always look so dark but the area was actually pretty bright. I could make out every imperfection in the paint surrounding the window. The areas where the paint had chipped off had started to rust. It looked much like this but dingier. The walls and stools were all painted this ugly dark green color.
Then, we waited. I saw these big and burly, tough-guy black dudes walk out and then finally, a very thin and fuzzy-faced Victor. He looked confused before he spotted me. He wasn't expecting me; I've liked surprising people :D One look at his face changed everything I've been thinking for the past few months. One glance reminded me of how special he makes me feel. How he's always loved me for me. How he does nothing but encourage me. How he never did nothing more than give me a hug because of how much he respected me. How much I enjoy being with him. How much I wished that there were not a piece of glass separating us.
I found out that I was his first visitor; my heart broke when he told me that. He's been in there for nearly a year and nobody bothered to visit him. His dad never visits, doesn't write, and has only answered the phone once when he called. I'm so glad I decided to write that letter back in January. I'm making a difference in his life.
I drove home thinking about how crazy I must seem. How does a girl who has never been in trouble for anything beyond a detention for tardies wind up clicking with a guy who's been in trouble his entire life. As I think about the changes I've seen him make, I become grateful for the craziness. I'm grateful that I'm able to care about him in a way that helped to give him that extra little push that he needed to get his life turned around. I'm grateful that he's been introduced to the Book of Mormon and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because he wanted what I had. I'm grateful that he meets with a spiritual advisor on a regular basis...and that he desired to meet with someone so much that he fervently fought and appealed the county prison policies in order to get a spiritual advisor.
Most importantly, I'm grateful that God has given me a big heart to look past initial judgements and to see people in ways that many others cannot. Others look at Victor and see a no-good guy who has been in and out of prison his entire life. I look at him and see him as a really great guy who spent many of his years lost and in wrong company. I hope he's right. I hope that he can win his case, and that we can see each other without a giant barrier between us.
Many people have been judging my emotions for Victor over the past year as unwise or foolish. Tonight, a very respected friend had this to say, "You deserve someone who loves you, treats you well, and makes you happy. If that's him, then that's all that matters."
I believe in the power to change. And quite frankly, someone who has made some stupid decisions in his life is more likely to change than someone who has spent most of his life just being a complete ass. In my opinion, this man behind bars exceeds so many of the male idiots who are out on the streets. You can send someone to jail for making a stupid mistake but, unfortunately, you can't send someone to jail for just being an ass.
Well, those are my words for the day. Just something to think about.
The process was intimidating and the dreary, rainy weather was fitting to the anxious emotions I was feeling. The walk from the parking lot was dark and dismal. I, at one point, thought to myself, "Watch, I'm going to get mugged outside of the prison." My slow and fearful walk turned into quick and anxious steps. I proceeded into the tiny entrance way where I checked my cell phone (yeah, I'll leave everything in the car next time), ran my purse through the security scanner and took a journey through the metal detector.
Upon entering the lobby, my first impression was fear of touching anything. The walls were institutional cream combined with institutional waiting area chairs painted in a chipping and graffiti covered green. I walked into the bathroom to grab some TP to use as a tissue. After one glance into the stall, I was grateful that I did not have a need to use the facilities. Again, still scared to touch anything.
I signed in, passing my ID through the metal whole in the glass and was instructed to leave my purse in one of the lobby lockers. I waited, twiddled my thumbs, thought about how I would feel after seeing Victor for the first time in a year and a half, whether I could handle being separated by glass, etc. Then the moment came; a female staff member yelled out, "Okay ladies." Everyone got up and seemed to know what to do. I was not expecting the pat down and almost decided to walk right back out the door. I even looked at the lady and was like, "I don't know if visiting him is worth this." At the time, I felt like I was losing a bit of my integrity.
Upon entering the visitation area, I took my seat next to one of the phones and chatted with the girl next to me as a I waited. She had just spent a night in the facility to the other week but her boyfriend has just gotten transferred there; he gets out in July. I was definitely not like the other girls around me and it showed. It's funny because in movies and television shows, these visitations always look so dark but the area was actually pretty bright. I could make out every imperfection in the paint surrounding the window. The areas where the paint had chipped off had started to rust. It looked much like this but dingier. The walls and stools were all painted this ugly dark green color.
Then, we waited. I saw these big and burly, tough-guy black dudes walk out and then finally, a very thin and fuzzy-faced Victor. He looked confused before he spotted me. He wasn't expecting me; I've liked surprising people :D One look at his face changed everything I've been thinking for the past few months. One glance reminded me of how special he makes me feel. How he's always loved me for me. How he does nothing but encourage me. How he never did nothing more than give me a hug because of how much he respected me. How much I enjoy being with him. How much I wished that there were not a piece of glass separating us.
I found out that I was his first visitor; my heart broke when he told me that. He's been in there for nearly a year and nobody bothered to visit him. His dad never visits, doesn't write, and has only answered the phone once when he called. I'm so glad I decided to write that letter back in January. I'm making a difference in his life.
I drove home thinking about how crazy I must seem. How does a girl who has never been in trouble for anything beyond a detention for tardies wind up clicking with a guy who's been in trouble his entire life. As I think about the changes I've seen him make, I become grateful for the craziness. I'm grateful that I'm able to care about him in a way that helped to give him that extra little push that he needed to get his life turned around. I'm grateful that he's been introduced to the Book of Mormon and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because he wanted what I had. I'm grateful that he meets with a spiritual advisor on a regular basis...and that he desired to meet with someone so much that he fervently fought and appealed the county prison policies in order to get a spiritual advisor.
Most importantly, I'm grateful that God has given me a big heart to look past initial judgements and to see people in ways that many others cannot. Others look at Victor and see a no-good guy who has been in and out of prison his entire life. I look at him and see him as a really great guy who spent many of his years lost and in wrong company. I hope he's right. I hope that he can win his case, and that we can see each other without a giant barrier between us.
Many people have been judging my emotions for Victor over the past year as unwise or foolish. Tonight, a very respected friend had this to say, "You deserve someone who loves you, treats you well, and makes you happy. If that's him, then that's all that matters."
I believe in the power to change. And quite frankly, someone who has made some stupid decisions in his life is more likely to change than someone who has spent most of his life just being a complete ass. In my opinion, this man behind bars exceeds so many of the male idiots who are out on the streets. You can send someone to jail for making a stupid mistake but, unfortunately, you can't send someone to jail for just being an ass.
Well, those are my words for the day. Just something to think about.
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