Hello everyone! I hope you all had a great weekend. My weekend recap can be found here. Nothing life altering, but good nonetheless. Although there was something from the weekend that I decided to save for today's post.

Yesterday, while doing the blog catchup thing, I was really moved by a post Katie from Health for the Whole Self did. Her blog is absolutely fabulous and I adore it. Probably because we are on the same page with what makes up a person's wellness and health. Anyways, her posts are always a joy to read. They give great information, cool food ideas, and at times provoke some intense thoughts.

Her recent posts about a special black bathing suit were definitely thought provoking for me. It was a two part post (Part 1 and Part 2) from an essay she wrote for Caitlin's Operation Beautiful book.  The essay dialogs an experience where she found the perfect black bathing suit and how her feelings in it she realized ultimately tied to her own self worth, confidence, and how she viewed herself. At the end of her posts, she asked if anyone else could relate? Um, yeah! Is there any female out there who can't? So I'll share my response to this post here instead of flooding her comment section 😉

This post brought me back to a time in my life where clothing's look and fit, the scale, weight loss, etc defined me and my life. A dark time. A very, very dark time. I'll do a not-so-brief history lesson. What can I say? A lot goes into it. My father and I had a great relationship until I was about age 12, when he decided to open his own business and got sucked in. He had no time for the family. Except for his extremely high expectations of our duties and how what we did reflected on him. He was basically a slave driver and that was the extent of his relationship to us during that time. It wasn't so bad yet, but without a doubt I didn't care too much for my father and was delighted when graduation came and I was out of the house.

not so genuine smiles at high school graduation

Then it got really bad. For work and my major, I ended up doing lots of subbing to work towards my education degree and worked mainly in the school system where my parents lived. To save money I moved back home and the tension between my father and I escalated. To the point where every day there was screaming, yelling, emotional slander, and at times taking a physical hitting. The most memorable was probably the  "I've tried to love you because I'm supposed to but I just can't and don't care, so just kill yourself" comment he gave me. Which I immediately set out to do. I was deeply depressed at this time and the way I got any sense of pleasure in my life was to have a sense of control through weight loss.

My entire self worth depended on how the scale dropped. I spent a TON of money on new clothes because I could feel good in them and get attention. I also blew through a lot of savings by buying an endless amount of exercise videos and products. My life revolved around my 1000 calorie/day meals and my hours upon hours of workouts and fitness "research". This is also when my issues with binging developed as an emotional reaction to the toughest times with my father. I was a pendulum going between "perfection" and "I don't give a crap" and it all related to food and my personal "skinny" journey. That was all that mattered and since I had no love from my father, I sought after being "good enough" in other ways.

Restriction

Binge Eating

[Source 1]     [Source 2]

Fortunately, I moved out a couple of years into enduring that. Went down an even more self destructive path of too much partying with friends and then woke up to realize I was missing something. Found other goals, got back some faith, and turned my life around. Over many years and plenty of tearful conversations there was forgiveness. Not only to my dad, but also to myself and my body. I still have moments where seeing myself not at my fittest discourages me. But I am so incredibly thankful that it is minimal.

I realize clothing size, weight, and how I look has NOTHING to do with my self worth. I am worth so much more than that. And I sincerely ache when I see other women get down regularly about themselves. Or when I see them addicted to eating very little or exercising incessantly. It always makes me wonder what they are trying to escape or control. I pray one day we can all open our eyes to our own unique beauty and be proud of it. It is tough. But no black bathing suit or size 0 jeans, those were my depression days "worth booster", can tell you that you matter. You have a voice. Tell yourself. You matter. You are amazing.

We are all Beautiful!

[Source]

I purged myself today. No, not the hide myself in the bathroom over the toilet purging. The good kind of purging. The kind where you just let all frustration, heartache, stress, worry, and sadness rush out of every pore and tearduct.

This morning started off with yet more confirmation of the news I was met with on Saturday, the news that was opposite of what I was expecting. Since I didn't clue you in then, I'll clue you in now.

negative

Now, I want to be clear that I know this is only the 4th month we have been trying to conceive and that it can take time. I also want to be clear that I know 100% that it will happen when the time is right and God has a plan for us. And the past few months I have been bummed when I found out I wasn't pregnant but got over it in about 30 minutes. This time has been harder. So I had to and have to still purge out some of these emotions. Bear with me and my word vomit, k?

This time has been harder for a number of reasons. The biggest one is probably that I was certain that this month was it. I felt pregnant. I had the nausea that felt exactly like it did with Makenzie. I had a strong gut feeling . And the sore tatas. Although maybe that was just from switching to Group Power classes and the insane reps and pulses used in the chest track. 😉 Anyways, there were other things too. My BBT chart had post ovulation temperatures that continued to climb and climb, instead of remaining steady like other recent cycles. BBT stands for basal body temperature. Tracking it is a very accurate way to know more about your cycles, ovulation, upcoming period, fertility, etc - for the record, post on all that coming sometime in the future. And rising temperatures after ovulation can indicate pregnancy. Just like my previous cycle chart when I got pregnant with M. So as you can see, a lot of the frustration comes from the expectations not matching the reality this time around and having to suddenly adjust to the notion that I am likely not, in fact, pregnant this month. I told you I was feeling at least 95% positive.

My Cycle Chart from Fertilityfriend.com

Even more frustration stems from fear. Fear that doing that dagnabit figure competition screwed up my innards more than I realized. There was some concern about it, which is why I put on the weight I have and have cut back a lot on my workout intensity. Why I am living and trying to be positive with having to be 10-15 lbs above my comfortable, happy weight. My body needs the extra padding to hold onto a baby. I had to do the same thing last time and it worked in 2 months. But I get scared that it won't this time. 4 months is not forever. I know that. But what if I did more damage than I realized with the diet restrictions and the super intense workouts? What if 4 months turns into 6 months turns into a year turns into more time? It hurts to think of it. Which leads me also to BEG anyone out there who spends excessive energy in workouts (I would say more than 6 hours a week) and restricting food (less than 1500/day imo) to rethink their practices!! Please please please! But that is a post for another time...

So, the Negative Nancy side of me is coming out. And I don't like it. So today was about purging. Spewing out emotions on the blog. Kicking and punching and sweating out some serious frustration this morning in a kickbox class, which ironically was a super intense workout in a probable passive aggressive way of retaliation to my efforts so far not working. Taking a scalding hot shower and just letting the tears flow. Praying HARD to God with desperate cries to please let it be soon because the fear is sending me to a negative place that I don't know if I am ready to battle again.

Now, I will suck it up. Because I have to go be a housewife and get things in order around here after a hectic not caring morning. And I have to prepare for the marathon tutoring sessions that await me tonight. And I have to be a mom. Insert reality check here. I am already blessed to be a mom, to the most precious child alive.

My Makenzie

Thank God for her. Thank God for his grace. Thank God for the hope he provides. Thank God. No matter what, he is always worthy of my praise and will always love me, even when I purge and spew negativity. 🙂