It's good to be alive...

I've been thinking for a few weeks about writing again. But, every time I think about writing, I think about how I don't have anything to share. Not that anyone wants to read anyway.
And then, I remember that there are people out there, like me. There are people who struggle with my struggles and face what I face.

I'm a teacher. Remember?
There's this weird connotation that in Education today, you can't talk about anything that's not positive. You can't talk negatively about your job, you can't talk negatively about your life, your can't talk negatively about things that happen. No Negative. Ignore the negative. Get it out. Only positive.
But, you know what. I'm calling bullshit on that.
Why?
Because there IS negative. And without negative, we wouldn't know what positive was. We wouldn't know that positive felt better. We wouldn't know how to express positive. Negative happens and it happens with reason.
Sometimes, you just CAN'T ignore it.
I truly, 100% believe that you can talk about the negative without "complaining", because sometimes you just need to talk about it. And even if it still sounds like complaining, sometimes, that talk is where you realize what you need to do to make that negative a positive, or make that negative appear to be minimal.
The negative is STILL important.

Holy Shit. I just had a revelation as I was typing that. It just came to me. But, I've been trying to get that out for 4 weeks.

So here's the real talk:

4 weeks ago, I became more upset, more stressed, more frustrated, more belittled than I ever have in my life. My character was badly misjudged and I was used negatively as an example in the workplace. I felt shattered, and torn. I still haven't been able to quite pick myself up. I have a wonderful support system, but until about 5 days ago, I still couldn't talk about it without crying. Sometimes even sobbing.
I have never in my life wanted to do anything besides teach. Ever.
It's not a secret that the past 2 years of my teaching career have been challenging.
But the past 4 weeks have resulted in me seriously doubting myself as a teacher.
I have wondered if there is any other job out there that I can find that I can enjoy.
Because I fear that I will never be able to move on... and away. I fear that my reputation will be tarnished falsely. I fear that maybe it's not meant to be, for me. Or maybe I'm just not good enough. Maybe I can't do it.

Do you know how shitty that is?
To feel this way?

It's tearing me up.

Most people don't know what they want to do with their lives when they go to college.
Most people change their minds at least once, change their majors. Move on.
Hell, some people don't even go to college.
They find jobs, maybe careers, and it just becomes part of who they are.

Not me.
I've always know that teaching was it for me.
Always.
I guess that makes me lucky.

But, I don't feel lucky.
Because questioning that eternal feeling is the worst feeling in the world. Questioning my belief that I was put on this Earth to be a teacher makes me feel useless, worthless, stupid, and just in existence.

I have the best support system in the world. My co-workers are great. My family is the best. But, I can't shake this horrible feeling I have about my career.
That is weighing me down.
It is tearing me apart.

4 weeks ago, I went to Sky Zone to shake off my bad work day.
I bruised my heel bone.
It's still not normal.
I've tried walking. I've tried running. (That was the worst Idea ever).
I made it through walking. But, was horribly sore for 2 days after that.
After sitting for awhile, my foot becomes stiff and I can barely stand, let alone walk.

Not being able to workout in any way is also killing me.

I signed up for a new Diet Bet. When I weighed in for it, I wanted to die.
I really hadn't gained as much weight as I thought.
But, It wasn't where I wanted to be.
I'm not able to participate in my spring activity up north at that weight. That wasn't the weight I wanted when I go to Florida for spring break.

But...
It's still less than it was when I started.
It's still less than it was last year.
It's what it is.
I couldn't change it to something I wanted to see.

Eating healthy is hard.
It's even more hard when you're an emotional eater.
It's even more hard than that when you're an emotional eater who is riding an emotional roller coaster.
It's even more hard than that when you're an emotional eater who is riding a GIANT emotional roller coaster and not sleeping.

Some days are better than others.
Most nights suck.
But, I'm trying.
I'm still alive.
I'm still trying.
My stress level is abnormally high.
My emotions are ridiculous.
I'm trying.
I'm trying hard.
I'm trying.

My spring break clothes still fit me.
I tried them on.

And you know what?
The people I'm going to Florida with for Spring Break love me.
They love me as I am.
They love me for who I am.
They don't care that I'm fat.
They don't care.
So, why do I?

A co-worker told me today that my smile lights up her world when she sees me. She told me that she showed my picture to her husband and he commented on my eyes and my smile.
She also asked if I had lost any weight.
The question I've been waiting to hear since January.

Ugh.

At a time when I feel so shitty about this journey.

She told me she could tell and that I looked happier and she loves me thinks I'm beautiful.

So you know what?
Who the fuck cares that I'm not losing weight as fast as other people who diet?
Who the hell cares that I can't post a transformation picture after 2 months of eating grass?
I can't.
I can't just stop drinking pop and lose 20 pounds.
I can't lose 10 pounds doing a 2 week cleanse.
I can't.
My body doesn't let me.

But who cares? Just me? Right?

It is SO frustrating to hear about other people's success and to see other people get attention and praise for their weight loss achievements?
But you know what? Those people have NO idea how hard it is.
They have NO idea what it's like to do what I'm doing with what I have.
They don't.
So my satisfaction has to come from my own happiness.
It has to.


So...
I'm going to go on Spring Break. I'm going to go to the Beach. I'm going to take pictures. I'm going to enjoy myself.
Because this is the life I live. This is who I am.
There's always room for improvement. But this is a journey.
Someday, I'll get there. But I'm not going to miss the happiness right in front of me waiting for that day.

I'll keep fighting.
I'll keep working hard.
I'll keep trying.
But I'm not dwelling any longer.
I can't.

Now, if anyone has any tips on how to meet my compliance for the CPAP machine, that would be great. I can't get past the claustrophobia no matter how hard I try.
It's crunch time though. I only have until April 22.

I want to sleep.
So bad.
Help me sleep.

Picking up the pieces

My last post was pretty depressing. It wasn't very upbeat. It wasn't very positive. It wasn't very... Me.

But, that pretty much describes my February.
February sucked.

I didn't lose weight.
I was sick.
I got injured.
I fell into some major slumps.
But, the upside... the good news..

It's not February anymore.

If I'm being honest, after things started falling apart in February, I stopped eating good. I stopped exercising regularly. It was just an all around fail.

I have been planning this post for a few weeks.

I wrote last time about how I lost some weight when I was sick. I was frustrated because I gained all of it back.

When I step back to reality though, I realize that I didn't gain anything serious back. I got sick. It's normal to gain weight back when you lose it unhealthily. I'm okay.

I put on a pair of pants a few weeks ago after weighing myself and expected them to be tight.
But, you know what?
They were more lose than when I put them on the time before.

That was a turning point for me.
I realized that even though I had gained that weight back, I hadn't regressed.
I was still working hard, and my body was still changing.

This is a hard concept. Especially because I have so much weight to lose, and it's so frustrating when the littlest of setbacks can feel so defeating.

This might sound weird but I looked at myself the other day after I got out of the tanning bed, and I realized that I'm making changes. I'm not making changes as fast as others, but I'm getting there.



I have really been in the dumps. I have a very stressful job in a very unfortunate place. I do not have support, and I am not surrounded by anything positive. I am looked down upon. I am not appreciated. I feel attacked, and I feel worthless most days. I feel like I picked the wrong career at least once a week.
I've been struggling to pick myself back up after having my spirits torn apart by people who should be building me up and supporting me.



But, I'm ready.
I haven't weighed myself in at least 2 weeks probably. I have no desire to.
Maybe I will on Sunday?
Maybe I will. Maybe I won't.

I just want to get myself back into the swing of things without the pressure.

Speaking of pressure.
I was finally able to get the pressure lowered on my CPAP machine so I am hoping that means sleep is in my future.

I"m not done.
I'm a work in progress.

One years change.
I'm getting there.
Slowly
But, I'll get there.