Category Archives: Sick and Tired

Mental Health Check-In

So I’m back and writing for my own mental health. How is that mental health going? It’s…better?

I’m definitely still struggling with anxiety, but it’s not crippling at this point and I’m finding ways to take the edge off without meds. I still think I might need meds long term, but it takes forever to get in to a psychologist…which is so weird. In any case, though, I am doing and feeling better overall which is such a relief. I’m not sure the counselor helped at all, but I only went once so I plan to go back for my other appointments (I get two more free) and then make a decision from there.

My anxiety IS better, and my eating habits are SO MUCH WORSE. I have a long history of bad relationships with food – everything from extreme diets to significant over-eating. I also have an autoimmune disorder that makes my colon hate food and causes me physical pain when digesting certain foods. Lately, I’ve been subconsciously choosing to eat very poorly because “bad” food is comfort for me – I grew up surrounded by highly processed, quick comfort foods – and I think that’s part of what’s keeping my anxiety in check right now.

I eat high sugar, high fat (bad fat, not avocados or nuts) foods. I eat fast food. I eat foods, like lots of cheese, that I know will irritate my disorder. I eat them when I feel the need for comfort, so at high stress times or when I’m overtired. And lately, when I feel the need to curb my anxiety and other coping mechanisms aren’t working. Although all of that makes it seem deliberate and thought out, and it definitely isn’t.

My triggers are all stress related – being over-tired, feeling overwhelmed at work, having financial struggles…anything that makes me feel not in control.

I don’t consciously recognize having any specific thoughts before I eat like this. Maybe something like “I need a break” or “screw it, I deserve this” could be happening. I’ll have to pay more attention there. I definitely think that in the past I’ve used the “I deserve this” rhetoric to convince myself that my choices were a reward as well as a way to establish control, but I’ve also worried in the past that they’re actually a subconscious punishment to myself for being overwhelmed in the first place.


Return of the Blog

I haven’t blogged since August of 2016. I’m still not sure where to start, what I’m trying to say here, or if I’ll get back to blogging regularly anytime soon.

But here I am. I’m here to…collect my thoughts. Lay out my intentions. Try to tease out the thread that leads me back to what matters most for me. The best way for me to start, I think, is with the highlights of where I’ve been.

Since August, I had a full hysterectomy. I spent some time recovering, as I needed to, but in there somewhere I lost my mojo. My hormones are still not 100% settled, so I consistently struggle with being too tired and too emotional in one way or another. I’m working on it.

In January, prompted I’m sure by the New Year’s Resolution idea, I started thinking hard about getting back to the things that make me feel balanced. I set some non-specific goals:

Camp Gladiator for my body.
Yoga for my soul.
Healthy food for my energy levels.
Daily writing for my spirit.
Reading for my mind.
Weekly walks for my heart.
Snuggles for my joy.
Activism for my piece of mind.

Around the same time, thanks to the husband’s awesome gift of annual Disney passes, I wanted to write a blog about what I felt like Disney was giving me.

How Disney Gave Me Back Myself
Out of shape, out of touch, feeling sad. Not enough time with family.

Lots of Joy, tons of walking, lots of smiles and laughter. Remembered movement can be fun, what my body is capable of. Love being outside. It’s cool to be joyous, be a kid.

I never did get around to writing that blog. Every time I sat down to try to write it, I felt like I was faking. I wasn’t making progress. I wasn’t making healthier choices. I loved being at Disney, I love it every time we go. But despite all the joy it brings me, it isn’t carrying over to the rest of my life. So I never wrote the blog, because what could I say? Hey, I found a place that fills me with joy and it still didn’t give me a reason to get healthy?

So a few weeks went by. I did nothing. I barely went to my previously beloved bootcamp. And then…

I’m at my heaviest weight ever. Probably about 250, but I don’t know for sure and I don’t want to know. I do a really good job of pretending it doesn’t bother me, but it does. But that’s another story for another time. I’m actually writing about something more practical. Last night I was stretching and felt a sting on my lower belly, where my belly fat roll meets my torso underneath, right at the fold. Now it’s stinging and seems to be seeping a little blood. I think it’s just a skin tear, and doesn’t hurt a ton or smell bad or itch or anything…but this has never happened to me before. I’m crying in the work bathroom. This is making me feel like shit. In one day I’ve gone from feeling hopeful to feeling disgusting. Intellectually I know it’s the wrong way to feel, but here I am.

I felt so…embarrassed? Ashamed? I hate this feeling.

It’s brutal. My husband, who I only get to see on the weekends, is like “hey baby” and I’m all, “excuse me, my fat roll is bleeding.” I just…ugh.

In some ways, the worst part of this whole fucking thing is feeling like I can’t talk about it. I’ve made such a big damned deal out of accepting my body and being fine with whatever size, and now I feel trapped…like if I say something negative about my fat body, I’m somehow going back on those things (that I truly believe to be true). If I’m miserable with my fat roll, I can’t say that without sounding like I think fat is bad. I feel stuck and so dark right now, and I’m extra upset about it because I had this great, hopeful, motivated blog post planned. I was outlining it in my head yesterday, and then this happened last night and I’m so derailed. And of course, I’ve eaten SO much better today, but it’s out of shame.

That was the end of January, and I decided February would be different. Because it needed to be. And…it wasn’t. I barely exercised except for our awesome Disney weekends. I ate terribly, brutally, with intention to harm. I made myself sick from food for the first time in a very long time.

Now it’s March. I want to say that everything will be different, that this is the month I’ll turn things around. That I’ll find the time to do Couch to 5K with my kid and get back to 3x/wk bootcamps and start eating foods that make me happy and balanced and healthy. That I’ll get back to daily (or atleast weekly) yoga and meditation. But the truth? I just don’t know, and I’m scared to even try to commit to something.

So that’s where I’m at right now. There it is. I don’t know what to do with it, but I needed to get it out.


Have To/Get To: A Perspective Shift

(As inspired by my favorite parenting role model, Carla.)
I have to….
I get to…
It’s a pretty different sentiment, and one I think I might be missing when it comes to a lot of what I do in the day. So it’s time for a massive reframe that focuses on everything I have to be grateful for.
I have to go to work.
I GET to go to a job I love, with people I enjoy working with and learning from, and I get to do it all in an environment where I’m comfortable, supported, and challenged.
I have to get so much done every day.
I GET to live a life full of people who trust me to get things done, and done well. And I get to benefit from not only their trust, but their appreciation and praise. Even better, I get to do it all with the help of a tiny but powerful team of people – both at work and at home – who make sure it’s always awesome.
I have to get up early.
I GET to wake up in a safe, warm home, cuddle a kid I adore, and get into my fully functional car to get us both where we need to go. And half the time I get to stop for coffee, which is a considerable luxury no matter how you look at it.
I have to go to meetings at the kid’s school, and chase people down to get her the education I need.
I GET to be involved in my kid’s education, to advocate for what’s best for her, and take advantage of staff and faculty who want what’s best for her as long as I’m engaged in helping to make it happen. I get to stay on top of what’s happening in her school days, and understand better every day what she needs most, and how I can help be the one to get it for her.
I have to work out.
I GET to spend a portion of my hard-earned money on a fun, supportive bootcamp where people genuinely care about how I’m doing and want me to succeed. I get to sweat out my frustrations a few times a week, because I have an incredible support system that helps make it happen, from friends to workout with me to an incomparably awesome mom who watches the kid.
I have to eat better.
I GET to focus on my health and happiness, to consume foods that make me feel my best and fuel my best intentions for my long-term health. I get to shop for things I like, spend time making them with care, and share them with people who share my goals. I get to make choices about what I eat, where it comes from, and how I prepare it, instead of being forced into less healthful decisions just because my financial, social, or resource situation dictates those things for me.
I have to spend money on my old car.
I GET to benefit from a car I didn’t have to pay a dime for, that continues to fairly reliably get me where I’m going, whenever I need it to.
I have to spend time and effort on cleaning the house, putting away the dishes, doing laundry etc…at the end of a busy day, when I’m tired and worn out.
I GET to live in a house with all of these comparative luxuries, and I get to provide them for my family. I get to wear clothes that are nice enough, eat off of dishes I bought for myself, and surround myself with a living space where I’m both safe and comfortable.
I have to handle everything, all the time, because my husband travels during the week.
This one needs more than just a reframe because it’s not entirely true, although it is something I find myself thinking a lot. I don’t have to handle everything alone. See aforementioned support system. But still, the reframe is…I GET to spend more time with my daughter than I’d be able to otherwise, and we both get to spend more time with my local family. I get to work a job that allows me some measure of flexibility to put my family first when I need to. And I get to shape the way I spend my free time on work days based only on what I want and need. I get to be the one she has deep conversations with, the one she cuddles with at night, the one she regales with school-day stories. I get to be the one to help her with her homework, to read her bedtime stories, and to watch Cupcake Wars with her while we eat dinner.
So the truth? I have so very, very much to be happy about. I’ve gotten into a rut of thinking about all that I “must” do lately, and it’s long past time I reframe it all to consider everything I get to do.


The Cake is A Lie

the_cake_is_a_lie_515The cake is a lie. It isn’t even cake. It’s a vehicle to further solidify the truth I have created for myself right now, which is that I’m beyond saving. I’m too far gone. I’ve lost all of my motivation, slipped far from my health and fitness goals, and so now this is what I deserve. I deserve to eat a huge piece of cake, not because I’ll enjoy it but because the sugar will make me sluggish, and I’m not even that hungry, and it’s there so I might as well eat some, since that’s what I do.

And so I go to bed. Another day with too much sugar and not enough movement. Another night I’ve pushed myself to exhaustion before collapsing into bed to lie awake.

It’s become clear that my own well-being isn’t enough to motivate me out of this place. Not right now. And so instead, I’ll do it for her. Because I want to keep letting her spend one night a week in my bed, letting her believe it’s an indulgence for her when it’s just as much a treat for me. Because I want to feel alive and exhilarated and strong through every moment I get to spend with this fantastic kid. Because I want to have the energy to give her the attention she deserves in the precious few hours I get with her during the week. Because I want to keep up with her, challenge her, and teach her to own her own power.

20160523_174544For her, I’ll sleep more. I’ll hydrate more, move more, stretch more. I’ll do more yoga and meditation. I’ll stop mindlessly eating for punishment, for guilt, for boredom and sadness and stress and frustration and social ease. I’ll be mindful, purposeful, and honoring of this one body I have, that I get to share with the most amazing soul to ever walk this earth.

For her, I’ll recommit to my yoga practice, which does my heart and soul so much good.

For her, I’ll go back to Camp Gladiator in June, as planned. I’m scared to go back, terrified of the heat and the difficulty and returning after two months off. I’m worried I won’t be able to do it, that I’m so unfit that I won’t be able to finish the first workout, that the frustration will keep me from going back more than once, that I won’t go back at all. But I will. I promised her I’d go back, and so I’ll go. Because it makes me happier, healthier, better prepared to face the world with m very best.

It won’t be easy. I’m in such a rough spot that it’s going to take near-constant recommitting to my goals. I need to be prepared for gentleness, for patience, and for extra focus on being aware and in the moment as much as possible. But I have to remember I haven’t completely run out of sparks. I did do a half-marathon on an exercise bike to earn my first Hogwarts Running Club medal. (It’s awesome.)

It’s time. Summer is coming. My incredible kid is GRADUATING FROM FIRST GRADE. We’ve got a busy, fun summer ahead of us before starting a whole new school year. We’re looking at maybe moving, in the same area, but to somewhere a little closer to her school or a little closer to my office while still in the school district. My career is really shaping up beautifully, with a job I enjoy and work I am proud of. It’s time.

So help me out. Tell me how you climb out of a funk, what you do to get back on track, and how you handle setbacks in that process.


The Secret of Change

The secret of change…

The truth is that I’ve been thinking about change a lot lately. Specifically, that I think it’s time for one. I injured my tendon, which led to a month off from bootcamp to let it heal. In that month, it was my job to wait for the pain to fade, and then focus on daily yoga to help stretch out my tight, overworked body and let things begin to heal more fully.

And maybe that’s what my mind needed too. So the pain began to lessen, and…I got bronchitis. For the 4th time in the last 3 years. I am a bronchitis machine, it would seem. And so I didn’t do yoga, and I shouldn’t have. I listened to my body. I took time off. I slept. I hydrated. I rested as much and as often as possible.

Two weeks later, when the exhausting hacking cough finally abated, I was finally ready to return to yoga…only to discover the pain was back, but different this time. Sharper, lower, less severe but more insistent. So I went back to the doctor and…my tendon is healing nicely, but it turns out that some of the pain was thanks to a build up of uric acid that has formed a sizeable crystal on my heel.

I’m taking a medicine to dissolve the crystal, but as it’s dissolving the pain is much worse and any impact or weight bearing is rough.

So it looks like I’m out another month until the crystal is dissolved. I’m super bummed about it, but sticking with daily yoga and doing the workout Mike sent me a few times a week.


In Which I Explain Catcalling to my Kid

Last week the kid had a dentist appointment, which meant we were done with work and school a little earlier than usual. Left with a couple of extra hours in the day, we headed to the library to return some books and pick out a few more. At which point I found myself in the decidedly irritating position of having to explain catcalling to my six year old.

A group of 20-something guys, 2 or 3 of them, were hanging out in the library parking lot smoking. Whether it was that or something else that set me a little on edge, I don’t know. But the moment I got out of the car it started.

Hey, beautiful.

Smile for me, pretty.

Hey, miss thing.

Hello? Come on mama.

I ignored it, wrapped her in my arms, and carried her into the library. Which isn’t something I’d normally do, but I already didn’t feel safe I guess. We got all the way through the doors before she said anything. She’s a perceptive kid.

Why were they saying that stuff, Mommy? Why didn’t they stop when you didn’t answer them? Why do they think you need to smile?

And there it was. Me, standing in a public library children’s section, explaining catcalling to my daughter. Explaining that it’s not about attraction or kindness, but about power. Explaining that men who can’t or won’t pick up on the cues that you’re uncomfortable are, for better or worse, something we have to be afraid of. Explaining that it’s happened to me for most of my life.

Will boys say things to me too like that?

Yes, honey. Probably.

Should I ignore them?

Mommy? What if they get angry because I won’t answer them?

What if they do? I had to admit it was a possibility. I told her I’ve generally had decent luck with ignoring catcalls, that it’s more than once brought on an onslaught of insults but I’ve been lucky enough to never come to harm.

Find a safe place, I told her. Go into a business. Stay where people are. Get on the phone and call the cops. Call me. Make noise. Be seen.

Protect yourself. You aren’t a prize to be won, an object to be controlled. You don’t owe anyone anything. You don’t owe strangers a smile, and you don’t have to be “polite” or make other people happy, particularly when they’re busy making you uncomfortable.

It was a necessary conversation, I guess, but one I never thought I’d be having with my elementary schooler. I guess it’s good that I did. She hasn’t talked about it again since. She needs to sit with things for a while. I’ll be interested to see, in a few days or weeks, what bubbles up.


November 15, 2015

Sometimes when you say I just can’t help it, other people here I give up, or I don’t care. And sometimes those people are right, but sometimes you really can’t help it. Sometimes there’s more going on than you could possibly know. And that doesn’t mean that you should let your life spiral out of control, that you should sit back and watch as it falls away from you. What it does mean is that it’s time to ask for help, to reach out, to ask questions and understand everything that’s happening. What it means is that there might be factors outside of your control, but that doesn’t mean you have no control.

For a long time, I let myself believe that I didn’t care, that I had given up. I had no control around food I said and I thought that I meant it. I thought it was my fault. I thought that I had just given up, and that I was ready to let everything go. I thought I wasn’t supposed to care about my health anymore or that maybe I had just stopped. And maybe, for a while, I did just stop. I felt hopeless, helpless and I didn’t know where to turn or what to do. But in the end, I finally did reach out. I started paying more attention, I started asking questions of myself and of the people who I trusted. I ask for help, and in the end I got testing done.

As it happened, I had a pretty severe hormonal imbalance. In the end I still didn’t know affixing it was going to solve any problems or make everything worse. But I knew it was worth a try or at least I hoped it was. Now I’m several weeks into hormone therapy, and all of a sudden things feel clear again. Finally.

All of a sudden, my ridiculous cravings for everything bad for me, everything sweet and heavy, everything that would make my stomach hurt or make my head hurt or deplete my energy seem to be gone. I’m not so hungry, I’m not so tired, I’m not so sad. Finally.

I’m not saying everything is perfect, or that everything is fixed right now. I’m not saying I’ll never struggle with food again where that I don’t already do it every day. But now it feels like there might be some hope. I finally have some energy again, & I finally feel like maybe it’s okay to not eat that afternoon snack just because I’m bored, or sad. I finally feel like I want to get off the couch, at least sometimes.

Now I find myself thinking about going to bootcamp. I’ve gone 3 times in a week, which is completely weird for me, and even weirder? I think I’m liking it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I hate the workouts while they’re happening. But the way I feel afterwards, and the way I feel about going and getting them done, is amazing. The way I feel when I know I’ve completed a workout, pride and happiness and fatigue and soreness, it all feels worth it when I think about everything I can gain. I can gain strength, confidence, belief in my ability to do…whatever I want to do.

I feel like so much of that had fallen away in a cloud of so much sadness, and that I was really losing a big part of who I was and my motivation to do much of anything. I wasn’t writing, doing yoga, in fact I was barely moving more often than not. I was managing my walk training, but barely and with zero motivation or heart in it. Now that I’m looking at boot camp more often, I’m actually seriously considering backing out of my half marathon. It’s a weekend we might not even be here, and I just feel like I can only focus on one thing at a time right now. Boot camp gives me the opportunity to get stronger, – a quarter, to eat push by someone who knows what they’re doing. It gives me the chance to be surrounded by other people who are supportive, as you want some of the same things for themselves.

It’s not a perfect place. Sometimes it’s a little bit triggering, with everyone focus on calories in or out, weight lost or gained, or how big or small they think they look in their pants. But still, it’s a good place to be for the most part. People’s hearts are in the right place, people are supportive and happy, and people want everyone to succeed. The trainers are cool, and the workouts are really really awful but at least I feel challenged. The more I think about boot camp, the more I feel like I can see a different future. I feel like I can see myself doing this regularly, maybe even liking it sometimes. I can see myself stronger, happier, more confident, more able to do the things that I want to do. I can see myself feeling better physically, having more energy, continuing down this path of less snacking and more mindful eating. Most of it is the hormones, which I couldn’t be happier about. I’m just so glad it worked. I feel so much relief, so much, knowing that I have half a chance now.

But it’s not all on the hormones. It’s still up to me to make a difference, to make the right choices all the time. It still up to me to get up, get dressed, and go to bootcamp. It’s still up to me to make the right choices with food. It’s still up to me to be mindful of how easy it is for me to fall back into serious sugar addiction, and constant snacking just for the sake of snacking. I have to keep thinking, all the time. It’s something that used to drive me crazy, to think that I would always have to be fighting. But maybe that’s just the way it is for me. And maybe that’s okay.


8 Days

In a somewhat random move, I decided 9 days ago that it was time to take on a challenge of my own. To do something bigger, harder…something to get me back to ME.

So I looked into 21 Day Fix. I looked into Cize. I checked out a ton of options…except school is about to start again, and tuition went WAY up this year, so the truth is that the money is just not there. In my searching, however, I stumbled onto this DIY Fix post. And I jumped in. I made plans, I listed out foods, I searched for meal plans, and I made my workout schedule.

The Sweaty

Today is day 8, and I’ve exercised every day. Hard, sweaty, uncomfortable workouts that have left me feeling a little pukey once or twice. I’ve been sore. I’ve pulled a muscle a little (it’s better!). And I’ve stuck with it. I’m feeling more energy already, and the workouts are starting to get a little easier, but just barely. I’m still modifying nearly everything. Some things, like jumping jacks, I’ll always modify since impact-based exercise aggravates my compartment syndrome. Other things, like a lot of weight-based exercises I’m modifying because I don’t own weights…but the truth is that even if I did I’d likely be setting them down for a lot of these moves.

I’m trying not to be frustrated by that, and instead to just be proud that I’m showing up and doing the work every day. It’s a HUGE deal for me right now.

The Snacky

My food has been less successful, but still doing pretty well. WAY fewer snacks, LOTS more produce and healthy proteins. Less snacks, sugary carbs. So again, I’m working on recognizing my awesome instead of worrying about perfection.


The Journey So Far…

On July 28th, I bought a journal at Target, sort of on a whim. It was right after I wrote my last blog post, which was all about feeling stuck and needing to find a way to push.

Things didn’t go so well at first.

7/29: I’m feeling tired and frustrated with Day 1. I’m trying to make plans–to eat and move with care, to make good food choices, to get back to daily yoga–but I feel so lazy and already so discouraged. Lost before I began…which isn’t going to get me anywhere, and I know it.

7/30: I think I’m scared…scared to succeed, to discover my own limitations. I don’t want to know how out of shape I am, how dependent on junk food I’ve let myself become, how hard even simple workouts might be for me now. I’m afraid to find myself having to start over from 0…and what if I can’t? What if I make it two minutes? What if I hurt my knee? What if it’s my fault?

8/1: Today was a mess. I felt fat and awkward and ridiculous. I couldn’t stop making uncharitable comparisons and I felt awful about myself all day.

8/2: My body image is suffering big time right now. I’m feeling incredibly self-conscious, about my stomach in particular. I don’t like feeling disconnected from my body this way, and I’m trying to think through other paths to recapture my connection to myself. I’m trying to consider new plans for movement, nutrition, thought…anything that might help me respark the connection that I seem to have had only the barest grasp on.

And it just kept getting darker.

8/3: I am in one giant black hole of self-criticism right now, pulling me in half and half and half again until my self-love and my confidence are reduced to so much confetti. I feel scared and lost and frustrated, and I don’t even know why. I want to reach out and ask for help…but how? Help with what? I don’t even know what I need right now, so how do I ask for help? How do I break out of this current pattern–this all-too-familiar, old-school pattern–of doubt and discomfort, of food as punishment and movement as something to be rebelled against?

8/4: Man, today was pretty dark in terms of my mood, and my food was totally hopeless…I wake up every morning and commit myself to making beter choices. So far, I haven’t made it past lunch before abandoning that commitment and tossing myself fairly headlong into half-intentional destructive eating and thoughts that chip away at all of my confidence and joy.

But then? Maybe a little upswing?

8/8: Overall a great day, with food and movement I enjoyed. I spent time with my favorite people and didn’t stop to think about my pants size, my stomach shape, or anything else that could have put a damper on my day.

And that tiny upswing had me spending HOURS plotting out a DIY version of the Fix to try. I’m way too broke for the real deal, but found some resources online so that I can do something sort of similar.

8/9: I’ve plotted, planned, and prepared, and atleast on paper I’m all ready for my DIY plan. I’m pretty scared of it, particularly in terms of how hard the workouts are going to feel.

Today was day 1…

8/10: I started the day with vigor and determination. The workout was SUPER tough (I felt pukey twice), but it was also great. I was hungry almost immediately though, and thought about nothing but food all day. I was so cranky, and by dinner I was sluggish and feeling weak & foggy. I could probably have chosen a better meal plan, maybe more veggies up front…so I’m going to try again tomorrow with a little more flexibility to my eating. I do need to focis on more produce, more real food…but maybe not in such a restrictive or controlled way. Today’s complete, constant focus on food was incredibly unealthy for me, and reminiscent of alot of dark head spaces.

So that’s where I’m at. By the end of the day, I deviated from my food plan with beer and cheesecake. Still, a MUCH better day (with a real, tough, sweaty workout) than most of the ones that have gone before…so that’s where I’m at right now. And now Gail has put out this FitBloggin Call to Action, and I want to say I’m in…



We must be willing to LET GO of the life we’ve PLANNED, so as to have the life that is WAITING FOR US. — Joseph Campbell

Maybe I need to push myself out of complacency and into embracing belief in myself and commitment to my own joy. Otherwise, I settle for what’s familiar, what keeps me stagnant.

I’ve been having these thoughts for days–weeks?–now and I can’t let them go. I am in a strange space, where my body doesn’t feel good, and my head is foggy more often than not. I’m not fueling myself well, and I’m letting stress and escape trump even the movement I love so much.

I’ve been on this crazy journey, this mission to find myself and settle into my center, to find peace with my body and my head. And I’ve come SO FAR with that. I’m SO proud of the work I’ve done to begin the lifelong process of unraveling so many years of self-hatred. Except that somehow, in the last few months, something has been shifting. I didn’t see it at first, but I’m seeing it now. Little ways that I’m sliding back into old OLD habits…eating ONLY for emotional release, intentionally choosing negatively impactful foods, seeking out all the wrong things. In a time I thought I’d escaped, it was punishment. I found subtle ways to punish myself, in the guise of reward or treat or indulgence, for what I saw as my own lacking. Now…I don’t know what it is now. I don’t know if it’s that, or something new.

In the process of finding a safe space, I needed to be gentle, to sit back, to relax into myself. But now it’s time to push, to not remain in this place, to revisit the edges of my comfort zone and see what comes of stepping outside the boundaries of what I once believed limited me. I don’t know what that means, or what the next step is for me, but it’s time to find something. I’m hoping I can lean on some of you to help me find my way, because I’m feeling a little lost right now.