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Horrific Moments, Tender Mercies

Sleep is not on my side tonight...I am beyond exhausted, but anytime I lay down in the dark with silence around me I am consumed by flashes of the horrible seconds when I thought I had either killed myself or my children. The sound of their voices is the worst...and at the same time the sweetest. I remember as I realized we were going off the road and starting to roll thinking: "Please let me stay alive. Please let me not lose consciousness. Please let me survive this so I can help my kids." I remember finally stopping and landing upside down. I just wanted to hear my kid's voices. I knew if I could hear them then they were alive and alert. I was hanging there with my hands above me so my head wouldn't be pressed against the roof of the car and yelling out to my kids words of encouragement...trying to calm them and reassure them that we were okay because we were alive.

I don't know how long we hung there. It felt like an eternity and yet like the blink of an eye before complete strangers swarmed my car and started pulling out my kids. Noah was hysterical and yelling for someone to rescue Lola because the seat belt was cutting into her throat and she was screaming that she couldn't breathe. He wanted her rescued first. He is every bit our protector--always has been. I kept screaming for people to pull my kids out and leave me there. I was clueless as to how I would get out. I looked up and saw blood all over my hands and thought I had some kind of head injury because my air bag never deployed and I clearly remember the windshield shattering--the glass hitting my face and landing in my mouth,

Once I was helped out I just sat there on the embankment in shock. My hands were covered in blood. My hair was caked with mud and blood. Someone came up to me, told me he was a doctor and proceeded to check my head and wounds. I kept asking to hug my kids. I wanted them to know I was alive and okay. I needed them to know I was close by. I looked to my left and saw them a few feet away being held and soothed by some angel of a woman. I saw Lola praying her little heart out. And then the guilt set in.

I could've killed one or all of them...or myself. I had caused my young, sweet children to experience something so traumatic and painful--the very antithesis of what my job is as their mother. I had no clue if I had hit any other cars on my way off the road--if others were injured. I knew Curran was just a couple of minutes away waiting for us to show up. And I replayed our last phone conversation minutes before as I left the house. I didn't say "I love you" back when we ended our phone call. I refused to take Lincoln because I didn't want to deal with construction and I almost missed the drive out there all together because I was distracted with other stuff at home--Why did I decide to go? Why did I round up the kids quickly and shove them in the car for an inconsequential trip that we could have done any other time or day?

It's funny the things that will go through your mind in moments like this. Though they seem lame and superficial these are just some of my thoughts:

We can't afford another car. I love this car.

I need a new BYU sticker.

My gas tank was full. I don't want to lose all that gas!

All of the book fair teacher wish list donations from other parents and the donated books to Children's Hospital and all my other book fair stuff is lost and I am responsible. Parents/teachers are gonna hate me.

My glasses flew off my head. We all lost our shoes, Lola was hit by all the boxes of books in the back, has bruises and scratches all over her face and body and  nasty seat belt burn on her neck. Noah's face was burned by the airbag and it knocked his loose tooth so he now gets a visit from the tooth fairy tonight. Millie escaped unscathed. The car seat did it's job. She was in tight and had not a scratch on her. I was strapped to a board with a neck brace because of my head pain. At the hospital our trauma was downgraded after a few examinations.

How very blessed we are that within 3 hours we all walked out of the hospital together. How blessed we are that our family rushed to our side and that my husband has the priesthood and we all had blessings. I was cited for careless driving because rather than honking my horn and stepping on the brakes to avoid hitting the car coming into my lane I chose to swerve. But I tell you what, I will happily take that citation cause we are all alive and okay. How we managed to not hit any other cars before we rolled off the embankment is beyond me. This too I count as a huge blessing.

And yet the guilt consumes me when I lay in bed. We are in no position to buy another car or deal with medical expenses. I can't imagine the weight on Curran's shoulders. And yet, he sits there and constantly reassures me that we will be okay, because that's the kind of faith he has and I'm grateful for that. I have no desire to get a car any time soon. I want to stay home and hold my kids. I want them to know how awful I feel that I put them through this...How my heart aches because they are in pain and unable to sleep and constantly shedding tears as they too relive those horrific moments. Noah keeps saying he forgives me. I know he means that he doesn't blame me, but I honestly feel like I need forgiving. I have spent all night thanking my Father in Heaven we are all okay--wondering how we survived this with so little damage. But the silence and darkness are too much for me right now, I've shed a few tears, but I've been trying to be strong and show my kids how we should focus on the mercies of God and be so, so grateful we're here together. I know at some point I need to let myself feel all that I've been trying to suppress, but for tonight I just want to forget it ever happened.

Breaking up is hard to do...

I am currently about 20 pounds away from my goal--hitting major milestones, losing inches like crazy, and although I am loving it there is a side to this story I was not expecting.

I started this journey partly because I cleared out my closet of clothes I believed I would never fit into again. When I realized I was basically giving up on myself I had a moment of clarity (thank goodness) and decided that I couldn't allow myself to be okay with who I had become. So I packed up all those "skinny" clothes and rather than getting rid of them I placed them all in a box in my closet and started this journey.

Now I find myself three months into this process and in desperate need of smaller clothes. I've slowly been digging through the box and pulling out better fitting clothes...but I cannot bring myself to get rid of the clothes that is now entirely too big on me. I have this fear that I will need it again--that just like last time I tried this it will all come to an abrupt end and I will find myself needing bigger clothes. It's my safety. Or is it? I thought I would be happy to say good-bye to it all with an amazing resolution to never see those sizes again, And yet, here I am wearing my size 20 jeans over and over again. I can't explain why I can't let them go. I feel like once again I am setting myself up for failure--like I'm giving myself an out.

The only thing I can liken this to is the repentance process. This whole journey has been a repentance process. It's been as emotionally/spiritually trying as the times I have come to my Heavenly Father in humble prayer seeking for peace and forgiveness for wrongs I have done. And in a lot of ways my weight gain was a result of a lot of wrongs in my life. I acknowledged my wrong-doing. I decided to change and rid my body and soul of the ugliness, the damage, the pain, the wrongs that have weighed my body down. It has been long and hard and many, many days I want to cry or stuff my face with food, I'll think that maybe relapsing wouldn't be so bad. But like any addict, even a little bit of your drug can be such a slippery slope.

The most beautiful part of the repentance process is the fact that once God has forgiven us he remembers our sin no more.

"Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." (Isaiah 1:18)

We're taught in Church how the atonement works, and that it applies to all of us--me included. And if Heavenly Father forgives and forgets, why can't I forgive myself of my wrongdoings? And THAT is what I think is behind my connection with my "fat clothes." I know this is Satan's way of getting me to fail--to instill this doubt and fear in me. And yet I sit here and let his ways get to me. I am doubting myself and my ability to succeed. I want those larger clothes to stay around to justify my actions when I fail and regain the weight--so I can tell myself that I was right and I knew all along I couldn't do this. It doesn't help that I've been down this path before, gave up all my big clothes and then later found myself having to admit defeat and buy bigger pants--proof that I am a failure. Proof that I am weak and cannot finish this.

So my conclusion is this: Someone needs to come over and give me a swift kick in the pants, or punch in the face, or a slightly nicer pep talk and help me remember the words of President Uchtdorf: "Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith." 

Face plant

So, I know it's been a long time. I've been busy. I've been feeling great. I've been loving life. Weight is still going down. I had no complaints. And then today happened...

Let me back up. As of a few days ago I have lost 50 pounds. FIFTY pounds. It feels amazing! I had to break out the smaller pants--luckily I own pants in 6 different sizes. And then came this--the self-rationalization that I DESERVED a reward. I had earned a cheat day. I needed a break. The funny thing is, this exact same thing happened last time I tried this program. Right around this same weight loss I started to convince myself that I had done a good enough job to take a one day break. The problem then was that a one day break turned into a 3 year break where I gained all the weight back and then some. It was a downward spiral. I was so racked with guilt after eating whatever it is I ate that had me falling off the wagon and I just tried to shut up all the negative self talk and guilt with food and more food.

Today...Today I ate a cookie...a delicious cookie that now has me feeling sick to my stomach and feeling like a quitter. I bet there are a lot of you out there saying how ridiculous that I am beating myself up over such a minor infraction...How one cookie does not a weight-loss train derail. But that's not the point. The point is this: When I started this journey on July 8 I promised myself, my spouse, my Heavenly Father that I would do this program the right way. I committed to see this 100% to the end. I told myself I was worth that commitment and I would not eat a single thing that was not approved. I have learned through the many weight loss attempts that I am an all-or-nothing kinda girl. I either do it right or I might as well not do it at all. Maybe I was setting myself up for failure? I don't know. All I know is that I cheated--which in itself is such an ugly word. I gave up--even if just for a minute. So now what do I do? It did cross my mind to say "SCREW IT!" and eat to my heart's content. But that was the old me. I can't do that. Though my will power gave out, I wont give up on myself. I'm too damn close to my goal to walk away now. I'm gonna stand back up, dust myself off and just keep going from where I am. I keep telling myself that I'm okay. I am not doomed. All is not lost. I am fighting those demons that I thought had disappeared.

Day 21

Weigh in #4...Down 4.9 lbs. This surprised me. I was waiting for the ball to drop--for that one awful weigh-in that makes you question why you're putting yourself through this misery in the first place. It hasn't happened yet. So every weigh-in from now until then I will hold my breath when I step on the scale...or maybe I should NOT hold it in. I'll weigh less if I push all the air out of my lungs, right?

This brings my total to 21.1 pounds down. I am officially now at the weight I was when we found out we were expecting the bonus baby. Miraculously, and through the help of a good-lookin' aqua Zumba teacher, I managed to only gain 10 pounds my whole pregnancy. AFTER Millie I managed to not only NOT lose any baby weight, but also to pack on another 12 pounds on top of that. So if the last time you saw me was around the time my mom passed away, I look exactly the same. But 21 pounds? That's like a big drop, right? I don't notice a difference. No wait! Strike that! My wedding rings are looser. AND my acne is clearing up--probably cause my hormones are starting to get back into normal range. But I still have to hold my breath when I tie my shoes. I still have a large spillage of belly fat when I manage to squeeze into a pair of jeans. Millie still pats my belly like a bongo every day. And I still have a huge double chin.

But a loss is a loss. So I'll take it, and enjoy it.

Day 14

Week two weigh-in: Down another 6 pounds...Say what?! I was preparing for the worst, but expecting the best. As a Biggest Loser fan I know all about the dreaded week two weigh in, and was a little leery to step on the scale this morning. And once again there was another big ol' sigh that escaped my lips--but this time it was a sigh of relief. I feel happy. I'm not elated, ecstatic, or overjoyed. I just feel really good. Content. I have a pair a pants--which is by no means my skinny pants--that I keep trying on to see if they button yet--and this morning was no different than the previous ones. Still no luck. But I'll get there and once I get there I'll get into the next size smaller and then the next size...Cause as anyone who has had fluctuating weights knows: I have jeans in every size imaginable. 

So even though I don't fit in those pants yet I have noticed a difference in the way I walk. There is a lot more confidence now--not because I look amazing, but because inside I know I'm doing something wonderful, and feeling so much better. All these years I've been not only carrying around extra weight but also the guilt that comes with knowing I have made awful choices in my life--that I'm knowingly cutting years from my life and heading down a path of sadness and misery that can only end in destruction. It has been self-destruction. I know that. Every time I would sit and eat I would look down at my plate and see destruction. And then the guilt would set in--this awful guilt that has been my constant companion. This guilt that has consumed me to the point of having restless nights, and making me feel worthless, weak and ugly. 

It's dissipating now. It's being replaced by something so much better. Every week I make it to another weigh-in without falling off the wagon I secretly pat myself on my back and I feel an added sense of strength and worth. Today was a good day. 66.5 pounds to go.

Day 7--Weigh-in Day...

Day 7

I finished my first week of Ideal Protein and had my first weigh-in. I lost 10 pounds. And even though I know most of that is water weight it was still a whopping 10 pounds that have been shed and no longer take up residence on my body. Do you think I celebrated? Do you think I even for one second stopped to pat myself on the back and feel a sense of accomplishment? NOPE. 

I got on the scale this morning and saw the drop and just sighed. I sighed!!! Like a big ol’ dramatic sigh. I thought about how 3 years ago when I had first attempted this program I STARTED at the weight I am today. How really I made no progress, but was just back “in the black.” So I proceeded to beat myself up for not only gaining back all the weight I had lost before, but then for adding 10 horrible pounds on top of that. 

THEN I proceeded to think about the big picture. My goal is to lose 80 pounds. Yep, not a typo—80 (eighty) pounds. And in the grand scheme of things, 10 pounds is just a tiny drop in the bucket. My journey is just beginning and I have a LONG way to go…I felt overwhelmed and already defeated at the thought of having 70 more pounds to go.

I know that the future weeks will see a much slower drop. I doubt I’ll ever see such a fabulous loss along this journey. And yet I sit here and feel sorry for myself and feel a sense of dread at having to keep at this for several more months…This defeatist attitude is probably what got me here in the first place. And it’s scary to think that 6 days of positive, go-get ‘em attitude can be completely shattered in the matter of minutes—seconds—as I saw that number appear on the scale. Maybe all that confidence and will power was just an act? Maybe I’m not as strong as I think I am…

My friend, and “coach” along this journey was quick to celebrate what I so quickly wanted to see as a tragedy. He helped me see that just like in the Gospel of Jesus Christ we learn that when our sins are forgiven us the Lord remembers them no more. We are completely clean: “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.” (Isaiah 1:18) We should also remember them no more. But one of Satan’s greatest tools is to constantly drudge those old sins and mistakes up and remind us of how awful and unworthy we are—when in reality, in God’s eyes, we are forgiven.  I need to learn to let all that stuff go. I need to rejoice in where I am now—realize that my journey started anew the day I decided to take back my life. All that stuff that happened before? That’s the old weak me. Today I am a new person—a better, healthier, 10 pounds lighter Carol. 

Maybe I’ll believe it tomorrow…

Day 5 and 6

I didn't post anything yesterday for a couple of reasons:

It was a tough day, food-wise and I just wasn't feeling up to it, but even before that I felt that posting every day may become too overwhelming. So I've decided to only post when I feel I need to get things off my chest or on weigh-in days--which are every Monday.

I struggled eating all the food and taking all the supplements I'm supposed to take yesterday. It just felt like too much food! Past experience with this has also taught me that if I try to force it down it will inevitably just come back up. Last night I decided not to push my luck and just do my best. I fell short of my goal, but I'm okay with that. I did the best I could AND I still stuck to the plan--meaning there was no falling off the wagon as I fell into food temptation.

It's funny that here I am a day from my first weigh-in, and I already notice a difference in the way I feel. Mornings have been tough in the past because I wake up achey and so tired having had not-very-good sleep. I would suffer from acid reflux and it would usually take me about 30 minutes of sitting on the couch to kind of get my bearings and psyche myself up for the day. In just the last few days I have found myself getting better sleep, having no acid reflux and waking up with no aches and a lot more energy. This alone is motivation to keep going!

I've also noticed that I walk differently and hold my head up higher. I'm so used to being one trying to conceal my body, and just physically manifesting the sadness and guilt at what I had let myself become. But just choosing to make better food choices has led me to feel better about myself. Being able to stick to this for a week has given me a lot more self-confidence. I'm grateful for that and cannot wait to weigh in tomorrow morning.

Day 4

I had written this great, uplifting entry and then decided to post this instead:

Today I took the kids to Chick-Fil-A for lunch followed by Krispy Kreme for cheap donuts and I'll be taking them to 7-Eleven this evening for a free Slurpee. Why? Because I'm a freakin' masochist! I must really enjoy the torture. Apparently watching people eat at my favorite fast food place wasn't awful enough as I sat there and ate hard boiled eggs and cucumber with a cup of ice water. I proceeded to then pile my kids back in the car and drive to Krispy Kreme to pick up two dozen donuts. Mind you this also entailed waiting in a line, watching the hot donuts take their shower in the sugary glaze waterfall for 30 minutes.

Curran called while I was waiting in line at Krispy Kreme and I bet he was a little surprised to hear where I was. I was more than a little surprised to find myself standing there too. I told him I think subconsciously I wanted to test my will power. And considering my record with diets this was probably a really, really dumb idea--especially when I'm in the throes of week one. But let's be honest, I can't live my life hiding out at home with my vegetables and lean protein just so I never have to face temptation. My friends and I like to go out to eat. It's what we do. It's how we give our kids (and us) a break. And today was the first time since starting that I ventured out to do what is somewhat "typical" for us. I survived, though. I passed the test...today. I'm sure life will sucker punch me in the face at some point in the near future and I will look to food for solace. So if you call/text to invite us out to eat and I ignore you chances are I'll be cowering in a dark corner in the fetal position, rocking back and forth repeating the words: "This too shall pass."

P.S. Though I haven't eaten a single donut (and don't plan to) you better believe I've sniffed the hell out of them.

Day 3

Today we're on the upswing! No headaches, no shakes, no random, violent outbursts. Only once today did I feel like quitting--How can a bag of Cheetos have that kind of power over you?!

I've been overwhelmed by the show of love and support. Thank you for all of your kind words! I am well aware that I need every last bit of encouragement you guys have given me. If there is anything I have learned from attempting every diet and exercise program under the sun it is that I am weak--physically and mentally. I know I lack some serious self-control, and I have major issues with self-doubt. Which is why I started this program with a Priesthood blessing from my sweet and always supportive husband. I say this with complete honesty, and perhaps if you've been in my shoes (or should I say "muumuu") you will agree: Without divine intervention, without help from a merciful, loving God I don't know if I could do this. Is it weird to involve God in my weight-loss journey? Given the state of the world some would say he has a million more pressing matters to worry about. Thankfully, I've learned that I am a child of a loving Heavenly Father and therefore among His highest priorities.

Dino Nugget Envy

Day 2

The withdrawal shakes have diminished a bit, and the raging headache is all that remains of my body trying to detox from all the crap I have fed it. These carb and caffeine withdrawals are a real thing. I had one episode of rage yesterday as my body desperately screamed for something starchy or sugary. My children, of course, were in the line of fire. It doesn't help that my husband is out of town this week, and that the travelling weeks tend to be slightly more stressful on us back home. I could have waited until next Monday to start my journey. I don't think any mother with a travelling husband would fault me for wanting to wait till my main support was home to ward off my vicious attacks on the innocent children. But I decided I had waited and postponed this long enough. 

Every waking minute today has been spent gauging how I feel in any given moment compared to the same time 24 hours prior. As long as I can clearly say that I feel better then I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. So if you were to ask what thoughts have run through my head today I would say that 90% of them have been any given variation of: "Okay. How do you feel? Are you doing okay?" 

I longingly watched my toddler scarf down dino nuggets and wished I could at the very least lick the toasty bread crumbs left behind on her plate. I had thoughts of Hawaiian shaved ice on this hot summer day. And probably like most Americans used to instant gratification I have been tempted all day long to go stand on the scale and see my hard work paying off. But I won't do any of those--I won't lick Millie's plate, and I'll drive past the Hawaiian shaved ice truck and I'll only pee in the downstairs bathroom because there is no scale there. I owe it to myself. I owe it to the children that have been entrusted to me by a loving Heavenly Father. I will not rob them of a mother because I am too selfish and weak to do this. 

Another Day, Another Journey..

Day 1

Feelings I've had: 

I can do this!                                                                            

Okay…That wasn't so bad.

No I can’t! It’s too hard!                                                          

This too shall pass.

I’m SO hungry!                                                                        

It’s your own dang fault you’re in this mess!

I’m gonna kill my kids!                                                             

Maybe I’ll just start tomorrow…

What I wouldn't give for a Dirty Coke right now.                     

 I gotta pee!

This day has been a long time coming. I have spent countless sleepless nights thinking of every possible worst-case scenario for how my story would end. I have tried to fool myself into thinking I felt good—nothing was wrong—I’m just “big-boned.” But deep down I could see myself walking the path that my mother walked. Her time on earth was cut short and I, through my choices, could slowly see myself evolving into another version of her. And it scared me.

So here I sit—dinner time on my first day back on Ideal Protein wishing with all my might I had a juicy, cheesy burger in my hands. But instead I am chowing down on two cups of cucumbers and bell peppers with 7 delicious ounces of grilled chicken breast. You may not think that sounds like a lot—two cups—but let me tell you, for a girl not used to ingesting this kind of stuff, sometimes staring into my bowl of veggies is like staring into a never-ending bottomless pit.

I sit and throw myself a pity party for a while and then realize that the “torture” I’m going through is nothing more than me dealing with the consequences of possibly a bad gene pool, but most assuredly of my unhealthy actions throughout my adult life. I've got no one to blame but myself. I find myself staring into this bowl of rabbit food because I have abused my body…and sadly, I have very fond memories of this abuse—the sweetness of that bowl of ice cream or cheesecake—the gooeyness of that pizza or fried mozzarella. Sure there were immediate repercussions like heartburn, or bloating, but overall every step of my self-destruction has been pretty delicious.

I've tried this diet before—or should I call it an “eating program” or “new way of life.” And I lost over  60 pounds. I felt great. I looked great. Vegetables and I learned to be good friends. But something went wrong—actually a lot of things went wrong—and I quit. I didn't see this through to the end. I also justified it because I felt that all my hard work deserved a reward. I had earned the right to enjoy that bag of chips. I did it wrong and now I find myself back where I was a few years ago.

So here we go again—this time I’m determined to see this thing through to the (not so) bitter end. I want to know what it feels like to accomplish something like this. I want to feel good and most importantly, I want to change the course of my life and live.