No thanks, I'll be eating my words for dinner...

Of all the things on my agenda for today, taking the time out to blog is definitely not one of them, but if I don't respond to the need of cathartic release this blog really isn't serving its function at all--and so, I write...

Here it is, no make up, no fluff, accessories off barefoot bearing of my soul. I feel like a bad mom. I read the blogs of several of my other mommy friends, real and virtual and the way they long for bath time and they love the squeals of joy and excitement, the way they die a little inside if they miss bed time, and how they just love spending every minute with their kids, and I can't help but think either they're exceptional liars or I am a terrible mother. I suppose that maybe a lot of the feelings that I have came from the fact that I wasn't always a SAHM and we had to be pretty flexible very early on with Michaela because of my continued medical complications after her birth. After she was born, it was a tense time in Alex and my relationship. We were both struggling with our own demons, whether we realized it at that time or not, and we were disconnected. Fatherhood to an infant wasn't at all what he expected. He resented having a child and the fact that it took time away from us. We both worked all day, and I was running to and from daycare, with a 35 minute commute one way (without traffic), then coming home to do the household chores, cook dinner and then bathe and get a little one to bed and all without any help. Unless I specifically asked him to hold her or feed her or spend any time with her, he didn't. I began to resent those tasks. Bath time just became one more frustration and another 20 minutes that I spent wrestling a screaming baby from dinner slopped mess to powdered bottom and jammies, and all that I longed for was putting her in the crib and shutting that door so that I might feel human, even for just an instant.

At 7 days old, when I was readmitted to the hospital and told that I couldn't have my child with me, I missed a lot of bed times, and bath times, and while it hurt desperately to have her away from me, it was ok. Then we became youth leaders, and our time was pulled in so many different directions. We regularly had events that required finding a babysitter for Michaela. She was at daycare all week, and with a sitter a lot on weekends and something broke. And then there were two! While Alex and my relationship was vastly improved, and his demons had been wrangled and he offered boundless more support and cooperation, my demons still had a stronghold, and again I struggled. We became even more involved in the youth which meant several over night stays with grandparents and sitters. I was alone for what sometimes felt like days at a time, because of Alex's work schedule, trying to care for an infant and not completely neglect my toddler, but I think I did. Here I was it was all the same tasks, but doubled, and all day long. There wasn't the "break" of going to work, there was the brief hour long stint of synchronized napping that was supposed to be enough to make me feel like I could survive this chaos, and somehow, I did. Sure it's still crazy, but I've gotten things under control in the last 21 months, but not without what I'm sure is more than a fair amount of damage.

I write this from a very broken place. Yesterday was by and large probably the worst of my days as a mommy. All the time and energy that I've spent focused on trying to never discipline out of anger completely flew out the window, when I found my 2 girls covered from head to toe in my makeup, as was my dresser, several towels and my carpet. Sure, I know it's cute when little girls want to be just like their mommy and put on her make-up and her shoes, and dresses and act like a "big lady" but the thing is, it really is only cute the first time you're paying a deposit on an apartment because the carpet has lipstick stains, when you're on the 2nd or 3rd it immediately incites anger. Had it just been Emily even there might have been a lesser response, but it was a full blown catastrophe. You see, Michaela has gotten into my makeup before, she got into trouble and had since, not touched it...until yesterday. I walked into that room livid. It wasn't just about the makeup, or the carpet, it wasn't just the fact that I knew she knew she was doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing, or the fact that she encouraged her sister along the process, it was all of those things and all of the other things in my life along with the added nudge from that uninvited house guest Mrs. PMS that completely shoved me over the edge. I hit my wall and I fell apart. I disciplined from sheer unadulterated anger and it just went down hill.

I found myself screaming into those precious little faces, faces contrived with fright and tears running down their cheeks, and I just kept yelling. Without any compassion, I cleaned the makeup off of them and put them in their beds for nap time, slamming the doors as I uttered threats. Michaela was told that when she got up from her nap that she better not leave her room without it being clean or suffer the torrent of spankings I had coming her way. I threatened to throw all of her toys away, break them and destroy her things just like she had mine--really, I was that immature! Then I walked away, hoping that the next 2 hours of silence would be sufficient to alleviate the bubbling rage in the pit of my stomach, but before I knew it, mid-hamstring stretch, Michaela comes waltzing into the living room arguing that there's just too much to do in her room and so she can't clean it. Now side note here--she's 3, when we ask her to clean her room, we absolutely by no means demand perfection, and we've striven to ensure that there is organization and a place for everything. She knows the place for everything and is very capable of completing the task, but she is also very capable of coming up with a myriad of excuses why she is incapable of completing the task. Much to her (and my) dismay, this was one of those days.

It was a matter of principle, and punishment that she was required to clean her room unassisted. I was still harboring this irrational anger over the earlier incident and every time I looked at her I was just furiously angry, every time she tearfully made an excuse as to why she hadn't done it, couldn't do it, or wouldn't do it, the anger swelled until I swear every neighbor was no more than a button push away from calling DFS because of the yelling and blood curdling screams that were coming from my home after I finally made good on my promise and spanked her--palm to bare bottom. This only made things worse. She was hysterical now, how did I expect her to complete the task that she had started 2 1/2 hours earlier and I was even more angry, but this time with myself. How could I have let my anger get so out of control that I took it out on her. Sure she initiated the anger, but it was hardly about her at all. I literally couldn't stand to see my reflection in the mirror, because I hated myself so desperately for hurting her, for making her cry, for making her, no, for making them fear me. So, I took out the anger on everything else. I made Alex feel bad for requesting what I had suggested for dinner. I complained about making my own separate meal that was healthier, I complained because my throat hurt because I had yelled so much. And I put them to bed, with prayers of utility stoic bedtime kisses and abruptly shut doors.

So, I think it was more than a matter of coincidence and repetition of my sarcasm from last week* when Michaela threatened her imaginary child with "beating their butt" and told them that she was "a terrible, mean mommy" I fear what she thinks of me--what she deserves to think of me. I fear what Emily is learning as she watches Michaela have these power struggles with me, and I already see her defiance, and I fear that I'm completely losing control. I'm losing control of my 3 year old, who talks back and has an opinion about everything, I'm losing control of my 1 year old who insists on following everything her sister does, and I'm losing control of myself as I give in to these emotions, spout off the anger that I'm feeling and submit to the emotion. I think back to the beginning. I think back to all of the reasons why I resent the tasks and I can't help but wonder if it's made me resent not just the task but somewhere deep down, I resent them too? I wasn't ready to become a mommy when Michaela was born, but we were irresponsible, the same way that we were when Emily was conceived, and so it all became a matter of utility. Without question I love my children, but I think I did them a huge disservice by having them before I was emotionally ready, and thus I eat the words that I speak, because I don't really hear the biting pain with which they were delivered until it's coming out of my 3 year old's mouth and so I'm broken and convinced that no matter how much I seem to have it all together, I've done it all wrong........

*At some point last week Michaela was being difficult and whining about opening the garage door. I was in a hurry and opened it before I even had a chance to realize what she was requesting and so she went on to ask why I didn't let her open the door to which I sarcastically replied, "Because I'm a terrible, horrible mean mommy, who never lets you do anything you want to do."

Uh...that branch doesn't look too sturdy...

So, it's Monday and I had a weekend. Parts of it were amazing, exciting, challenging, relaxing, rejuvenating. Parts of it were duty filled, agendas, meetings, obligations, and parts were down right begrudging and filled with dread. It was a perfect example of a random sampling of my life. I've chosen to abandon the notion that the weekend is like some super realm of existence when everything is amazing and life is perfect just because the vast majority of the population isn't putting in their 8 hours at the office. I've chosen to accept that each day presents new challenges and rewards and by and large each day is the result of what I make of it. It's just another opportunity.

One of the amazing parts of this weekend was Fall Retreat with the youth group. The weekend was focused on challenging the some 60+ students to acknowledge God's glory and the concept that "God is most glorified in us, when we are most satisfied in Him" While the focus of the weekend was for the teenagers, I feel like God uses every opportunity to speak to us, and He was definitely speaking to me this weekend.

All through scripture there are countless examples that everything God does is "to His glory" or "for His glory" or "to bring glory to the Lord" but He wants us to find our complete satisfaction in Him and when we do, it brings Him glory, because He is more than enough for us. I got to thinking about where I find my satisfaction...is it in the Lord? Sure, some of it, but largely I seek satisfaction in other things, and usually am found wanting which is surely not a matter of happenstance. When we are fully seeking our satisfaction in the Lord, we must respond to the plans that He has in store for us. We can't be so focused on our own plans that we lose sight of God's plans, but sometimes that means taking big risks.

Coming back from retreat, our youth service on Sunday morning was about going out on limb for God. In Psalm 37, David says, that he was young and now he is old, but in all his years, he has never seen the righteous forsaken (emphasis mine). When we respond to God's plan and go out on a limb for Him, we will never be let down, and so I started reflecting...

Going through this life we are presented with a lot of opportunities. Many of them are rewarding and awesome things that we shouldn't pass up, perhaps a new job opportunity, or 1/2 off of that hot pair of pumps you've been wanting, but just as frequently there are opportunities that we are presented with that we should clearly pass up. The chance to run a red light when no one is around, or wear hot pink stirrup pants with a leopard print leotard. The fashion faux pas is obvious, but not all opportunities are that cut and dry, especially when you are actively seeking God's plan in your life. How do you accurately acknowledge which opportunities are God given and which are self-appointed?

I think some of it comes down to satisfaction. God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him. What am I satisfying by taking or passing up this opportunity? Am I truly seeking the Lord and finding my satisfaction in Him, or by taking this am I seeking to satisfy a financial need, or need for recognition? As I believe is the case with most women, especially wives and mothers, I have an overwhelming fear of letting people down. If I make an appointment I always arrive as early as possible, so as not to keep anyone waiting for me. I'm afraid of letting my husband down by not being a good enough wife, not being pretty enough or fit enough that he won't want people to meet me, he won't want to introduce me to his friends or co-workers. I have a fear of letting my children down--not spending enough time nurturing their little brains, not giving them enough love and affection. I worry about them spending their adult lives lying on the shrink's couch toting the phrase, "Mommy didn't love me enough" and in the same respect I worry about letting God down. What if the opportunity is God given and my logical reasoning separates me from that opportunity? Will it come around again? Will I still be able to fulfill the plan that He has for me and my family, or is this a one shot deal, a limited time offer, while supplies last?

The problem is that we can't be logical when we step out in faith. Faith is all about believing without seeing, and logic makes you look at the facts, believing and reasoning based on what you can see. It's not just about going with your gut, because sometimes it really is just the chili you ate last night, it's about a real heart issue, being so attuned to God that you are responding to His call, but how can you be sure that it's God who is calling? The answer is, you can't, and that is why we've gotta go out on a limb sometimes. This life is like a tree, every opportunity is a branch, our inclination is to use logic and grab the strong sturdy low branches that will hold up, but if by some freak chance they don't it's not that far of a fall, but sometimes it's about climbing all the way to the top, making big impacts, taking big chances, and by faith believing that the tiny seemingly weak branch is enough to support you, and knowing that sometimes the rigid oak tree that looks strong, can't sway in the storm like the seemingly weak weeping willow can.

Last time I checked, the 1st amendment still stands...

So, it was brought to my attention that my previous blog post was a shameless ploy to "get all of your little friends to pitty [sic] Michelle"

First, let me go on record as saying that pity was not my intention. Not pity, or sympathy or even empathy. My intent was emotional release, internal reflection, Biblical devotion, and prayer request but not pity. I know that there are several people who have been following my posts on Facebook for updates about my dad, it was simply easier to include all of the goings on in one post rather than 18 because of the length restrictions on Facebook. There was also irritation over some of my oversharing. Last time I checked, that was still my picture at the top of this page, it was my name in the by line and it was my life that I was documenting. If you don't like it, DON'T READ IT!! The point is, it's my blog. I write about what I chose. I'm sorry if you think I over share, or discuss things that are no one else's business. I'm not defaming you, I'm not spreading lies and I'm certainly not wasting my time worrying about posting the details of your life. Kindly take your threats else where, because here they are unfounded, unwarranted, and just plain silly.

Respectfully,

Your Opinionated Over Sharing Blogger, Michelle

Do not be anxious...

Philippians 4:6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

I like to think that typically I'm the one who does a pretty good job keeping it all together. I am a perpetual worrier, but a closeted one and so most of the time, despite the fact that I'm a nervous wreck on the inside I've usually got that calm cool pulled together look on the outside. Or at least I think so... *starts to worry if I look worried all the time*

The above verse has been my mantra for the last 2 years. Since the time when I was close to the end of my pregnancy with Emily, my worry quotient went through the roof. I couldn't help but stress out about any and everything. I chalked it up to my body being totally out of whack from all of the pregnancy hormones and believed that it would get better when I was no longer housing my adorable little spawn...this was not the case. Over the past 2 years my anxiety has multiplied exponentially. Sometimes it almost feels like I look for things to worry about, as if without that tension in my life I'm feeling somehow incomplete. Of course this is not a conscious search for stressors, but it happens.

The last few months have been a culmination of all things stress-worthy in my life, and after last night's 11 o'clock phone call, I might just have hit my limit, but I'll get back to that in a few minutes. Let's start at the beginning...3 months ago, my dad was diagnosed with esophageal cancer with his throat being over 80% blocked by a tumor. This news hit us all with shock, and fear. My dad has always been over weight and had bad habits, but otherwise he's been a fairly healthy guy and now the big C!?! The first few weeks were the hardest as all of the information kept coming out, but he was positive, largely to save face for the rest of us. At any rate we're 3 months since the diagnosis and he's finished his chemo and radiation treatments and is awaiting surgery to remove the tumor (Currently scheduled for Dec 6th). At this point I should be happy, right? I should be optimistic that he's come through all of the treatment so well, but it's hard to sit back and watch your dad wither away. No matter how positive he is, no matter how much his attitude radiates optimism, I've still watched him drop 65 lbs, cringe in pain every time he tries to move across a room, fade to exhaustion from a stroll around a mall, lose his hair, and his teeth, and my heart breaks. I've tried to have meals with him where he winces with every attempt at swallowing. The burning in his throat is so excruciating that he's barely eating and now the surgeon is telling him without regaining some of his strength, surgery might not be possible and circumstances are only bound to get worse immediately following the surgery, before they'll get better. THIS IS MY DAD! I DON'T WANT TO SEE HIM THIS WAY!! I'm still just that little girl who looks at her Daddy and believes that he's so strong, and indestructible, he can fix anything and has a gadget for just about any task. MY Daddy can't be sick, but I try to accept it. I try to trust in God and believe that it's all part of his plan...and then another bomb.

Just one month after my dad's diagnosis, Alex got hurt at work. He was moving an entertainment center to connect the wiring for the satellite when he experienced a blinding pain in his back and was put on light duty. Unfortunately during his time on light duty when he was working in the office, company changes and stress was at an all time high, and he got caught in the cross fire. After 2 months, 4 doctors and countless fights with the worker's comp insurance company the decision was finally that he'd have to deal with the pain and get back to work, as it was strictly a muscular issue. With our income seriously cinched and Alex still in lots of pain, he's back to work, but my anxiety makes me feel like I'm not pulling my weight financially, since I'm "just a stay at home mom," but we pray and we push on.

Earlier this week, my sister called me to tell me about the outing she'd had with our grandma. She discussed the deals they found the laughs they had, and then she got serious. Apparently mentally, my grandma is deteriorating. On what should have been a 5-10 minute drive to a store she goes to almost daily, she got lost 6 times! She called my sister by the wrong name and tried to take her "home" to my uncle's house. What is happening here!?! My grandma has always been mentally sharp and quick witted, she's the healthiest 82 year old I've ever met...or so I thought.

Then there was last night. After a pleasant evening of Biggest Loser, lots of laughs, and a delicious meal, we headed to bed only to be rattled by a call from my dad at 11. When I saw the caller ID, I was gripped with fear. Something had to be wrong. My dad hardly ever calls me, least of all at 11 pm! My mom was being taken to the hospital. Are you serious!?! This morning I found out that the diagnosis is Ileus, which can be a very minor or very serious condition. At this point they are optimistically saying it's minor and will improve with time. It doesn't look like there are any obstructions, and she should be fine in a day or 2, but when I heard that she was ill, all that I could think about is the old Italian superstition that deaths always come in 3s. One as a result of old age, one an illness, and one unexpected. Grandma Check. Dad Check. Mom Check. And so immediately, my worrying nature had me planning 3 funerals. So I went back to my verse. I read it and I try to believe it. I try to have faith. I try to relinquish control of the things that I have no control over and trust that God's plan is so much bigger and more perfect than my nature could ever comprehend, all the while trying to ignore the ever growing knot in my stomach and keep myself pulled together.

Sure, I can do that too!

I have this way of looking at myself as an entity resembling Wonder Woman, and honestly believe that I am capable of anything. The whole idea of "Never underestimate your abilities" has never been an issue for me, quite the contrary actually. This is why I frequently lose many hours of sleep working into the night. There are certain times when this is especially prevalent like in the days before Christmas when I'm feverishly trying to complete the extravagant homemade gifts I've come up with, and on Tuesdays. What is so special about Tuesday you might ask?? It's Biggest Loser Day!!

It's only normal that my obsessive infatuation with nutrition and fitness would make me a die hard Biggest Loser fan! Among my closes friends we have a Tuesday tradition of watching the show together, but me being the ever eager entertainer and not wanting my children's bed time to be compromised, graciously opened up my home for the weekly event. The issue...I'm obsessive and a perfectionist. I feel the compulsion to have a spotless home, and a full (healthy) dinner spread for all of my guests--I mean come on we can't be scarfing down the pizza while Bob and Jillian are laying the smack down! The problem here is that I always seem to forget where Tuesday falls in the week and it's here before I have time to prepare for it, so my Tuesday consists of frantically cleaning and cooking while trying to balance my toddlers' multiple extracurriculars and fit in an unnatural amount of cardio. In case you haven't cued into it by now, I'm crazy. Now not the straight jacket rocking in the corner kinda crazy but the kind that's a little overly obsessive, outside of the normal range.

So, I have this compulsion to burn an extra 1000 calories or so on days that I watch The Biggest Loser. So the workouts are usually 2 or 3 or RIDICULOUS, because if I don't feel like I've burned enough calories in that day I find myself feeling guilty the whole time I'm watching the show. I feel like I'm being lazy for taking 2 hours out of my day to watch a show about fitness and weight loss, despite the fact that I've worked out for at least an hour, usually more like 2.

The problem here is that I can't say no. I know people say that all the time, "I don't know how to say no to anyone and that's why I always put myself last," but that is not what I'm saying. I don't know how to say no to ME. Since I have this exaggerated concept of my ability to add hours to the day so that I might accomplish all of the tasks that I've promised myself I'd complete, I always feel like I can add more to my schedule--and so presents the problem, yet there is nothing that I'm willing to sacrifice. The other problem is that when I get an idea to do something, I give it EVERYTHING. So, I re-embraced my blog, and now I have so many topics that I want to write about that I'd like to be posting several times each day, but I've committed myself to no more than one post per day and finding the time to create something actually worthy of a read is in and of itself a challenge at once a day let alone multiple, but I will try to refrain. I will try to keep it at one, actually doing it, and not overdoing it. And, I hope you'll enjoy, or tell me how much you hate me even, I just hope you'll keep reading. :)

McFatty Monday

So, I've made a few internet "friends" which I know we were all warned about when the internet was new and full of crazies, but I get bored with just the tangible crazies in my life and like to add a few virtual ones to the mix. Anyway, I have this "friend" who has the most amazing blog. She writes like I someday hope to and has a following that is unbelievable, she is blog goddess Blair. Well, Blair and several of her fellow bloggers have this tradition they call McFatty Monday...now, I'm not sure who started it and would love to give creative credit to the originator but I simply don't know for sure...go ask Blair! Anyway, I digress. As I was reading through several of the McFatty Monday posts I thought perhaps maybe I should partake of this tomfoolery.

I gotta say, I'm a little on the fence about the name though, sure it's clever and everyone loves a good alliteration but I like to try and keep my weight loss and body image stuff optimistic and I think "McFatty" might be anything but optimistic...OR maybe I'll just pull the stick out of my butt and roll with it. So, McFatty it is :)

Now, it is with slight apprehension that I write this post, you see, I'm coming off of a VERY good weekend, and I try not to be the type to lure you to my blog only to brag about how awesome I am, (though I'm pretty sure if you're reading my blog you realize that I am awesome without me telling you so). My hope is that by telling you about my successes and failures that I can help you realize that if you're on your own weight loss/fitness/ health journey that fluctuations are natural and the biggest key is to just pull up your boot straps (although none of my boots have straps) and keep going. Maybe I'll inspire you, that's my hope.

Well, here goes. A couple of weeks ago I decided it was time to finally buckle down, get serious and lose these last 25-30 lbs that are hanging around like a stray cat. Since my very ambitious commitment and obsessive determination I have lost 11 lbs! But the last 5 have been like a tease here today, gone tomorrow, back again the next day, but I finally feel like I've gotten rid of them once and for all and am on a good trajectory again. Last week was a challenge. I'm not gonna lie! Following the weekend of candyfest, better known as Halloween and all of the Trick-or-trunk-or-fill-my-kids-up-with-ungodly-amounts-of-sugar-Treating, my house was FULL of the stuff that I usually don't allow past the stoop. I was like a drug addict dropped in the middle of a crack house and I couldn't resist the fix, so much so that I wound up giving myself a tooth ache over obscene chocolate, nugaty, carmelly, calorie consumption, but come Monday it was no holds barred, I knew I'd screwed up, I knew it was time to get it together and that's what I did. Everyday, despite fatigue, or excuses, I did my workout, I counted my calories and I stuck to it. I'm not gonna sit here and tell you that I didn't eat any more candy after the Sunday sabotage, as a matter of fact, I actually ate candy nearly every day, that was before I stashed it on top of the refrigerator where it wasn't staring me in the face every time I walked into the kitchen.

. As the week wore on though, the weekend was looming like the monster beneath the bed. I couldn’t back track again. I wouldn’t back track again.

Well, Friday was Alex and my night to run the “Friday Night Hang Out” at our church, which means that I’m up later than normal, meaning I wind up needing another something to eat after my dinner which is usually my final meal of the day, but not going to bed until midnight and having had my last meal at 6 when I typically eat every 2-3 hours simply is not an option. There is this dynamic that functions like a demon forcing your body to crave every unhealthy thing in the evening time and he was active in full force Friday night. Thankfully I’ve become attuned to my body’s natural responses. I actually know when I’m hungry and when I’m not. I stop eating before I’m full, not shoveling it in until I’m passed the point of being stuffed, and I made it through!! I had an added pressure on Saturday. I was meeting with a former business associate who was starting her own weight loss journey for the umpteenth time. She was so exhausted over the process and so fed up with starting up and giving up that she asked me to meet with her and give her the extra push. How could I tell someone how to start their fitness journey if I was eating the junk I was telling her to avoid, and not working out like I told her she should be doing!?! And so, despite having a busy day, not fully planning my snacks and eating long after the point of being VERY hungry I for what feels like the very first time in my life didn’t sabotage myself!! Sunday morning saw weight loss! Sunday is ALWAYS a hard day for me. My workout schedule is such that Sunday is supposed to be my rest day, meaning no workout! No workout means that I have plenty of time to wander into the kitchen to find something terribly unhealthy to eat, and I usually do. I firmly believe that this stems from Alex spending most of the afternoon sitting on the couch watching shows that I am less than interested in, and so in my boredom I wander to my demise. Since Alex is now back on full duty at work and trying to make up for lost wages while on light duty , he self-sacrificially gave up his Sunday afternoon to do a BIG corporate job. So, Alex was gone, the girls were napping and my afternoon had disaster written all over it, if I let it, but I didn’t!

I made myself busy. I cleaned the house, I did laundry—LOTS of laundry, but you know what I didn’t do… EAT! I stuck to my calories, I stuck to my meal schedule and this morning I was another pound closer to my goal!!! So, it’s a little thinner McFatty Monday and here is my commitment that next McFatty will be even better!

How was your weekend? Were you triumphant or was it back on the wagon again this morning? What can I do to help you stay on track, to help you reach your goals?

The Newest Sander...

As it says in my blog synopsis, this blog originally started as a means to document my pregnancies, so at some point I might be able to go back and read through the posts and remember all of the joys and qualms of maternity. Also, that I might read to my children all of the exciting changes as they were growing inside of me. Seeing as how Alex and I have made the very permanent decision to have no more children I was contemplating re-working the blog. Starting over, perhaps giving a fresh perspective to my blog and most importantly change my URL from the ever kitschy "the newest Sander" to something a little more literately intriguing, something that would more so encompass all of the ramblings that are sure to follow. And then the existential musings set in...What if I am the newest Sander?!

First, let me say, I believe that health in every area of your life starts with the physical. We were designed by a God who believes in connectedness, which is why we are called to be in community with other believers, BUT I think this is also true of our physical bodies!

1 Corinthians 12:24b But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it,25 so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other.26 If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.

While I know that this goes on to explain the importance of every individuals role in the body of Christ, it also is very much literal too. I feel as though through the last 20 months my life has been in flux. I've been in a constant state of personal improvement. When I read things that I wrote, just shortly after Emily's birth, I must acknowledge that I was miserable! Everything was gloom and doom, I was depressed in the worst possible way. I hated myself, my life and the direction in which it seemed to constantly be heading, but now?! I can't remember the last time I've felt negative other than for a short time over situational circumstances. I feel again like my life has purpose, I have focus, determination and a positive attitude. This is not a means to be vain or conceded, I'm not trying to brag, but rather report how EVERYTHING in my life has changed.

21 months ago, I was miserable. I didn't have the joy that a new mom should have. At about 19 months ago was the breaking point that started the transformation! You see, my mother-in-law is a wonderful caring and compassionate individual who is largely responsible for me retaining my sanity in the months immediately following the birth of Emily. My opinions and ability to write and actually believe that last sentence is, in and of itself, evidence of vast transformation, but I digress... MIL had a regular habit of insisting that I take some time to leave the house, ALONE and have a time to consider myself human, to get away from the diapers and bottles and crying and potty training of Michaela and just be Michelle. Well, on this particular self-affirming extravaganza I decided that it was time to find some clothing to fit me besides maternity tops and sweat pants, so I set off clothing shopping. After wandering around 2 malls blindly, I finally found myself in Lane Bryant, reaching for the size I thought I should be, only to be met with pants that wouldn't button and tops clinging to every insecurity plastered across my mid-section. After about 20 minutes in the store and leaving every sales associate in tears and myself a hysterical mess, I left empty handed and self-esteem at rock bottom...I HAD to make a change...and so the journey began...

It started with walking...forcing myself to keep the commitment of walking 3 miles 3 times a week, the only time I left my sweatpants and the social protection of the 4 walls of my home. I soon changed my diet, and my body started to change and I wanted more activity, I wanted better food, I wanted to BE BETTER! I needed more than just walking, I started Turbo Jam and my life changed! I started to feel better, and I began to allow myself to look critically at who I was.

Over time I started to think about my emotional health...even without conscious effort, it was improving. I looked at the health of my marriage... it wasn't in distress but I wanted it to be better, I wanted to be a better wife. I looked at my spiritual health and I wanted to make it better. I was reading to improve my spiritual health I did one of the most transformational studies of my life "Beauty by the Book" and I knew my spiritual health was improving. It was all interconnected! The point is, I am in the best health of my life, in every facet! I'm not the same as I was, I am a "New Sander!" BUT it is still a journey. I refuse to be content with where I am. I refuse to settle for being "good enough" or assuming that I've done enough, grown enough, learned enough or even worked out enough, and so the URL stands...Journey for the Newest Sander for I strive to continue to become a newer and better version of who I am and take my whole family along for the ride. Stay tuned, it's bound to be slightly turmultous, but full of great stories, laughs, memories and BIG achievements!