Target is now offering free shipping on all orders $25+—yippee!
It’s so easy to spend $25 at Target and I love being able to order items and have them arrive on my door step. I usually buy items like formula or diapers but I’ve even ordered shampoo and deodorant before, too. It saves me a trip to the store!
Just thought I’d share another great offer that I’m loving.
I am a Target affiliate and if you click on a link and make a purchase, I will receive a small commission from the sale.
When I talk about things that seemed overwhelming to me at the time, I realize how incredibly silly I sound and immediately follow it up by, “It doesn’t sound like a big deal now, but it was for me at the time”.
I have the sense to know that these events/things aren’t a big deal when I think about them AFTER they’ve happened, but not so much while they’re happening. They really are a big deal to me emotionally and it often translates to a physical response.
Today I cried for the first time since Sunday. Now this is really big for me—no tears in almost 5 days! I thought maybe I was getting better, but I think having my mom here and the pressure off really helps me to relax (which is a good thing) but when I’m back by myself again I start to feel overwhelmed, anxious and tense again. Bummer.
Today started off well. We had fun playing, baby girl being her silly and lovable self. Really, she makes me laugh so much. She is so funny. I think she is just the prettiest baby ever, but I am biased. I just love her. She’s going to be so full of herself with all of the times I’m constantly telling her how pretty, cute, and funny she is. haha
And then nap time came along. I don’t have a set time for naps but I go by her tired signs and it’s usually right around the same time every day, 9:30 or 10:00. Sometimes she doesn’t want me to rock her, which makes me sad because I love to rock her to sleep when she will actually go to sleep without a fight, but that’s beside the point. When this happens, I put her in her crib with her pacifiers and little security blanket and she eventually settles herself down and goes to sleep.
For whatever reason, putting her in her crib when she is awake makes me incredibly anxious. She might whine a bit sometimes, but often she just sits in there and plays with her security blanket. Many times, she throws all of her pacifiers and her security blanket out of the crib—which means there’s no way she will go to sleep until I give them back to her. If she cries, I go up there right away and try to rock her again and often the entire process starts back over. We often go through this 3X.
So we went through this for quite a while. And maybe it’s not a big deal, but it was to me. It completely drains me. And today, she refused her nap altogether which I know that she needs because she routinely will sleep for over an hour in the morning. Babies need sleep for brain development.
So I ended up feeding her a bottle and then her lunch. She threw her sippy cup on the floor for the 100th time and the top popped off and water went everywhere. She was fussy, probably because she was tired.
I clean everything up and then notice that I think she might have a dirty diaper. So I picked her up to smell her to be sure and in that split second, she grabbed my Valentine’s Day flowers off of the table, vase and flowers falling on the floor, water going everywhere and onto everything. She did have a dirty diaper, by the way.
And that was it. I just started crying. Of course, there are always a million thoughts going through my head. I don’t like to cry in front of the baby—she’s not doing anything wrong, she’s just an innocent little baby. I, however, do not know how to get it together and handle the things that moms should know how to handle with stride.
Hubby called and was able to stop at home for lunch. I asked him if he could pick something up and he didn’t argue at all. When he walked in the door, I started crying again. It was a relief to see him, if even for a short lunch break. My poor husband has to deal with a mess of a wife!
And when I told him about why I was feeling overwhelmed, I found myself following it up with “It doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it was for me at the time”. It really didn’t sound like a big deal. But he told me this is why I’m getting help and it’s all a part of postpartum depression.
I don’t feel like anyone understands how I feel when I talk about these things that feel so overwhelming. I think it’s because for most people these things are not overwhelming because they shouldn’t be overwhelming. I am always a little bit taken aback when I explain something that happens that I feel completely overwhelmed about and the response is “yep, that’s gonna happen”. And I realize they’re right, but I don’t know how to get to the place where I can just brush everything off and roll with it.
I used to be a pretty strong person who wasn’t easily phased by things. I rolled with the punches pretty well. I used to get annoyed with people who dwelled on problems because I didn’t feel like there was any reason to. I was the type of person who believed in finding solutions and taking care of business. Where in the world did that person go? I feel like a different person sometimes—I guess this is what postpartum depression does.
I still have a hard time accepting that I have postpartum depression and that it’s not just something that I am doing wrong or that I just don’t know how to be a mother. I am really struggling with that and I know that I need to come to terms with it. Good grief, a doctor diagnosed me with it—I should probably accept it.
I should probably also admit that after all of this I baked some chocolate chip cookies and I ate three little ones. Purely just because I wanted to feel better. And I know food isn’t the answer.
I seem to have a cycle: stressful event (even if it’s not that big of a deal to most people), feeling overwhelmed/anxious/stressed, emotional eating, self hatred and feeling stressed again. This is a really, really bad cycle.
But anyways, this is how I’m feeling. I feel better for writing about it, talking about it, analyzing how I’m feeling, etc.
I was so hoping to be fixed and I thought maybe I was—I guess I will just continue to be patient as it’s only been a week.
Hello everyone!
(note: Fitbit links are affiliate links and if you click on the link and make a purchase, I will receive a small percentage of the sale)
First of all, I’m pretty excited because I ordered the Fitbit Charge HR and since I ordered via Amazon Prime, I will receive it by Saturday—yippee! I wanted the Plum color, but there is an 8-10 week wait for it, so I went with black, which isn’t quite my style but it will go with anything.
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I did my research and decided the Charge HR was the one that I wanted. I like that it syncs wirelessly with my smart phone, can measure heart rate, and also looks like and functions as a watch. I look forward to trying it out!
I have been trying not to stress about every little thing and so I gave myself a break from the “dieting” mindset. I know, I know, it’s a lifestyle not a diet. I haven’t stepped on the scale in a few days. I haven’t been eating horribly, but I have eaten too many sweets and I’m just feeling blah. So I’m hoping this little Fitbit will be something to get me motivated and moving.
I have been lucky to have my mom around for a couple of days last week and a couple of days this week. It has been relaxing and so nice to have the extra help. It’s also nice to have someone to talk to all day. We did a little bit of shopping, and I am much more at ease when I have her help. It has been good for me in a lot of ways!
When it’s just baby and me, I feel pretty good when I am getting enough sleep, there’s no chaos, baby girl is happy, and we’re at home. But for some reason even in these good times I start to feel anxious sometimes. For example, I start to feel anxious and nervous when I’m cleaning, like I’m on a deadline or something. It’s silly and makes no sense, but yet it’s like it’s my body’s response—a symptom of the postpartum depression, I suppose—and I honestly have no idea how to keep myself from feeling that way. Maybe I can’t?
I blow little things out of proportion. Like last night, I started thinking about how I just have to lose weight. And it became very stressful for me to think about. I started to worry, worry and worry about it like worry is going to get me somewhere. It’s like I just can’t stop worrying about things.
One thing I know is that I cannot succumb to this. It may be the postpartum depression causing me to feel like everything is spiraling out of control and I just can’t get it all together, or maybe it’s just me and a weakness on my part. I keep feeling like it’s my fault and I want to fix it, but the problem is I don’t know how to take control of my mind and to take control of my body’s response. I hope to get the tools to know how to do this.
Maybe I just need to relax and work on recovery instead of just worrying about what’s causing it and how I can fix it. See? Worry, worry, worry!
My sister says that not every problem is my fault, mine to take on, or mine to fix. I’m a fixer, I guess. I want to fix everything for everybody. I want everybody to be happy. But in this case, I want to fix myself and I don’t quite know how. But I am certain that I will figure it out and that my life will be better for it. Maybe I need to stop worrying about it and be patient…!
I am certain that my weight is a result of the way that I think. Maybe if I can figure my mind out, I can finally fix my weight problem. It’s not something that will magically get better, but it’s something that I will have to work on.
Maybe it has been a long time coming and has taken getting to a place where I have felt worse than ever with postpartum depression to make me realize that I need deeper change than simply saying, ‘it’s time to change my eating habits and exercise more’. It’s more than that.
So, I will go about it slowly and I’m not giving up the fight. I want so much more for myself. I want to be so much more for my family. I wish I knew how to do it all and have it all together right NOW.
And now I’m worrying again. You see how this works? It’s funny, but it’s not at the same time.
I want there to be a short cut instead of it having to be a long road. I wish I could magically become the person that I want to be. But this is me and I’ll have to work with what I’ve been given! I am confident I can find the right tools to fix all of this for good.
Well, I hope I can! Worry, worry, worry…!
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When I started thinking about the “family” prompt in the 52 Weeks of Gratitude Challenge, I first thought of the family that I grew up with. For some reason, I had never given much thought about the fact that hubby and I have formed a family of our own.
Isn’t it amazing that with one choice and the two little words of “I do”, you begin a family? I am forever grateful that I met my soul mate and best friend. There is no other person in the world who loves me like he does. I’m still glad that he asked me and I chose to make him my family, all because we fell in love.
Now we have our pretty little baby girl who makes us smile every single day. She’s a little bit of me and a little bit of him—the perfect blend of us both. And with her birth, we became a family of three and I can’t imagine our little family any differently. I’m grateful for this precious gift of love that has been entrusted to our keeping, all because two people fell in love.
This post is in response to the 52 Weeks of Gratitude Challenge on Pinterest,”family” writing prompt.
Whenever I feel a sore throat or cold coming on, I immediately start drinking this natural cold and sore throat remedy drink that a friend told me about (It’s also all over Pinterest). It soothes a sore throat almost immediately.
Ingredients:
Directions: Mix it all together and drink up. I use my Keurig to heat the water easily and quickly, but you could also use a tea kettle.
I actually enjoy the taste, but people I’ve recommended it to have not—but it’s worth the benefits and soothing a sore throat!
Outside the nursery window stands an old, weather-torn maple tree. In the dead of winter, without her leaves of green or gold, she cannot hide her battle scars. Despite her many amputated limbs, she reaches her aged and knotted branches to the bright blue sky as if in faithful worship.
The sun is shining through the window as I sit in my comfortable tan chair rocking my baby girl to sleep. Although my heart feels weary, a melody escapes my lips and she listens intently as she sucks on her pacifier and rubs the silky fabric of her bright pink security blanket, her eyes growing heavy with each note.
I close my eyes as if to capture this moment in my mind forever. These moments are fleeting and rare. There’s peacefulness in the room, but inside my heart feels about to burst. My arms are tingly and shoulders tense. I try to focus on the gentle motion of the rocking chair, the baby’s warmth in my arms, of just breathing. I should feel at peace, but I don’t—this realization makes my heart ache.
I open my eyes and glance out the window to see the branches of the old maple tree. And suddenly, two mourning doves gracefully glide through the air, land on a branch, gently ruffling their feathers and then settling in, side by side, on the knotted old maple tree.
A peacefulness washes over me and tears slide down my cheeks. How could I have forgotten? I am reminded that there is always hope, that there is always strength, and that I am never alone.
Later, when I hear the babbling of a happy baby girl who has woken from her nap, I make my way back to the nursery. I cheerfully scoop her up and cover her in kisses. I glance out of the window to see that the doves are no longer there, but the old maple tree is still standing, reaching her aged and knotted branches to the bright blue sky.
It was difficult admitting something was wrong, it took courage to schedule a doctor’s appointment, but actually following through and going to the appointment was the absolute hardest.
I worried and worried and worried about this appointment. I tried to find reasons to cancel, but at the same time I didn’t want to cancel because I knew I needed help and could not continue to live like this.
Going to this appointment meant that I couldn’t just ignore the problem, wishing it away. It was admitting that method wasn’t working and wasn’t going to work and that I needed help. It meant that I would have to divulge all of the little details of what a worried and anxious mess I had become and how much I was still struggling as a new mother—and how ashamed of that I felt.
My mom was at the house to babysit and I am thankful for that because as the appointment time neared, I felt very anxious. I had a breakdown earlier in the afternoon when I felt so overwhelmed with the simple tasks of being a mother and that added to the pressure. I asked my mom to watch the baby girl while I laid down on the bed to rest and get it together for about 20 minutes. I wanted to cry, but didn’t. When hubby came home, I told him I didn’t want to go because I was scared—but he kept encouraging me. And so we went.
As with every doctor’s appointment, I worried about stepping on that scale—knowing the number was an embarrassing reflection of my self-care and self-control. I was relieved that the number was in kilograms and I didn’t have to face it because I don’t know the conversion off of the top of my head. If I had seen the number in pounds, which I did see later on, I probably would have cried right then and there on the scale.
You know how when you go to the doctor and you tell the nurse everything only to have to repeat it again to the doctor? I didn’t want that to happen. I planned out that I would be very vague with the nurse because I didn’t have the emotional energy to go through it twice.
I worried about how I would describe what was going on with me, but I am thankful for what happened next. The nurse asked me a series of screening questions and the questions described exactly how I had been feeling all along. There were a few tears as the truth of each statement hit home.
The doctor was prompt and I was relieved not to have a long and anxious wait. She simply asked me what was up—and a million thoughts came into my head. Where to begin?
I was glad that the Type-A person in me had decided to come prepared. To help relieve my anxiety, I had typed up a list of symptoms and how I was feeling. I gave her my list as well as the article that I originally found when I began to suspect something was wrong—and had hit the nail on the head for me. I had highlighted the parts that described what was going on with me. She wasn’t a bit surprised because she has had me as a patient for a few years now and has come to know my ways. We had a little laugh about that.
She reviewed everything, asked me more questions—many of which I didn’t want to answer, but I did—maybe not as truthfully as I should—the truth is hard. For example: Are you keeping up with the housework? Have you been socializing? Do you have any friends? I felt like I didn’t have any friends and that’s incredibly embarrassing, but I didn’t want to tell her that. But after the appointment, hubby did point out that I have friends—but maybe I just haven’t been spending any time with them. There were lots of tears.
I was incredibly relieved when she began to validate my feelings and let me know that there was hope. She told me that since she knows me, she knows that it took a lot for me to get to where I was. She assured me that asking for help was the hardest part, but that I had taken the first step to recovery.
She diagnosed me with post-partum depression. I thought for sure I had anxiety, but she told me that depression often manifests itself through anxiety. The depression screening questionnaire diagnoses clinical depression at a 9, I was at an 18 which is moderately severe depression.
We have a recovery plan. While she usually has patients call back in a month, I am to call back in two weeks if I’m not feeling better. I have a follow-up appointment in a month. I had blood work taken to test my thyroid and will get those results next week because the symptoms can often be similar.
I felt euphoric after the appointment. Well, a tired euphoric. Relief. Hope. I even wanted to believe that I was better simply for having admitted I wasn’t well. But to my disappointment, the symptoms returned in full force by the middle of the night when I was trying to sleep.
I just cannot believe that up until a couple of weeks ago I didn’t realize I had a problem. I never, ever would have thought I had post-partum depression. I didn’t realize that everything going on in my head and the overwhelming feelings weren’t normal. Now that I know the symptoms, I can look back and see occurrences all along—the symptoms getting a lot worse in the last couple of months.
With all of the classes hubby and I took before baby arrived, you would have thought we would have been taught what post-partum depression really looks like. I pictured mothers with post-partum depression being sad and “depressed”, crying all of the time, and unable to get out of bed. This can be how some mothers experience it, but there are many others who experience very different symptoms.
I am glad I took the first step and will do whatever it takes to get the “real” me back again, however difficult it is.
I plan on continuing to write about my experiences and my feelings because it has been therapeutic for me and it is a part of my journey.
Next step, recovery.
Every moment is deafening, blinding, suffocating, and crushing. Every sense is awakened and finely attuned to the most miniscule of details. It’s as if your very life and your baby’s life depends upon the alertness of your senses.
It’s a series of moments that affect you in ways that you can’t quite put a finger on. Little things are huge, like dirty dishes in the sink, the faucet dripping, bottles that need to be washed and then filled again, laundry piled up, toys spread across the floor, a thin layer of dust accumulating on the coffee table, the pillows not aligned correctly on the sofa, a lethargic fly buzzing by the window, your husband’s word choice, the sound of a car driving by too fast during the night, the rumble of the neighbor’s Harley in the afternoon, or items placed where they don’t belong. It’s like having the alertness after drinking a cup of coffee except there’s no caffeine fix and instead you’re tired.
Add a screaming baby with avocado smeared in her hair throwing her sippy cup on the floor--lid popping off and water spilling everywhere, the stench of a freshly filled and blown out diaper, the crunch as you step on yet another Cheerio, the smoke alarm going off because your toast has burned in the toaster (again), your coffee growing cold, the shrill beeps of the oven that won’t stop until you press cancel, the wash machine going out of balance in the next room, and it’s not long before you are about to burst. Heart and soul—everything. Like you could crumble onto the kitchen floor, but you can’t because you have to keep going, that’s what mamas do.
And after these moments pass, when the baby is happily playing, smiling, and cooing—you collapse in your husband’s comfortable brown leather chair. Your chest feels heavy, like you are struggling to breathe. You’re clutching to what’s left of your strength, but your grip is slipping.
As much as you try to hold it in, the dam breaks and warm tears rush down your cheeks onto your spit-up stained t-shirt. She glaces up at you with those bright blue eyes, you imagine a look of confusion crossing her face, but she continues on in her play.
This breaks your heart into a million more pieces. You turn the other direction and try to stop the tears. She cannot see you like this. It’s not her fault, and you worry you will cause her some inconsolable guilt that she will live with for the rest of her life.
But the tears don’t stop until they’ve run their course, the body knowing what the mind needs. And you feel relief. You take a full breath of air and you feel yourself start to relax. Your strength, although ever-faltering, returns.
You pull your weary body onto the floor and pull your beautiful baby girl into your arms and cover her in kisses. She giggles, a little smile brightening her eyes. You can see how much she loves you simply when she looks into your eyes, and this brings a sense of relief.
And then she pulls away from your shaky embrace and quickly returns to play, turning around to give you one more excited smile and shriek before she’s distracted yet again.
As much as you think she has noticed the weakness you feel as a mother, how incapable and weary you feel, you can tell that she feels the strength of your love—and this brings you peace.
I have been experimenting with affiliate programs to hopefully gain more opportunities for A Journey to Thin and so I can be in the know about things you might like to hear about.
As a mama, I love to shop online to find spectacular deals on baby clothes but I hate paying the shipping.
I thought I would share this one!
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This post contains affiliate links. If you click on the links and make a purchase, A Journey to Thin will receive a small percentage of the sale.
It was hubby’s turn to plan our date night this month. He got lucky because my mom is spending a couple of days at our place and she was able to watch the baby, which meant we could actually leave the house for a date night as a couple.
I refer to my mom the baby whisperer—she is that good with babies. When we were getting ready to leave, baby girl started to whimper like she could sense what was going on, but other than that I don’t think she even noticed we were gone. My mom actually had her sound asleep by the time we got home. I asked my mom if she wanted to move in with us. lol
My mom snapped a quick family picture before we left.
I was excited to see what hubby had planned. He explained that his original plan of dinner and a movie at a local (and very inexpensive) theater had fallen through when he found out the movie was American Sniper. Violence in movies bothers me, and so we decided that it wasn’t a good time for me to see a movie like that.
So onto plan B—freestyle. We drove off into the sunset. Wait, that is supposed to happen at the end. But our date began at sunset, and it was pretty.
I kept trying to figure out where hubby was taking us to eat. I didn’t have any expectations, but I certainly wasn’t disappointed! We went to our favorite Japanese Steakhouse, which is a place we only go to on special occasions, and apparently date night because we went there back in October on our last date night. We go there every excuse we can find for a special occasion. lol
Hubby read the sushi menu to find something new to try.
I usually have one request—a crunchy roll. He likes to order a way too much sushi, but he eats it all! We shared all of it, but I didn’t eat the one on the left, too spicy for me.
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The place is pricey, but you get a lot of food. The meal includes this amazingly delicious miso soup and a to-die-for salad with a ginger dressing.
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I ordered the Hibachi Chicken and hubby ordered Steak and Scallops. I took one picture of the chef cooking and then put my phone away. However, the picture didn’t turn out well at all!
The chef was really funny and had a lot of jokes that were kind of politically incorrect, but he was making them about himself. It was that kind of humor where you didn’t know if you should laugh or not, but everyone did.
He asked everyone if they wanted vegetables and served them. When he got to me he said, “How about you, my quiet little friend? You’re making me nervous over here—are you from the health department?” LOL. It took me by surprise and I just laughed. I didn’t realize I was being quiet—I think that it’s because I am soft-spoken and maybe he saw me talking to hubby but couldn’t hear what I was saying. Too funny.
After all of the pre-dinner food—I only ate a few bites of my Hibachi Chicken, noodles, and fried rice. That makes hubby happy because then he gets to eat another meal of this delicious food at home. But I didn’t feel stuffed or anything—I feel like I ate just the right amount.
Which is good, because hubby took us for custard at Culver’s next. This is us in the drive through.
Next, hubby said we would go to Target and just look around. He wanted me to look at clothes. He knows how much I love to shop and how hard it is to do with a baby—I don’t really do it much anymore!
I’m not sure what was up with the Target sign since only half of the lights were working. Maybe because of the super cold weather she just wasn’t in the mood to be super. But I did chuckle to myself when I pronounced “Ta-get” and imagined our store was trying to have a Bostonian accent. Life would be so boring if I didn’t find myself so funny. hehe
We browsed the clothes, but I couldn’t find anything for the right price, etc. I guess I’m picky. We were in the store for probably 10 minutes and looked at each other and decided we were too tired and ready to go home. What exciting people we are. lol
I enjoyed the time away—just the two of us. Life is forever changed after a baby but it is good to know that I still have his warm hand to hold and that while marriage can be a challenge at times, our love has only grown and become deeper. He’s still my best friend.
I’ve already started planning our March date night—which I’m sure will be at home!
I wake up before the alarm, as I often do when I am worried. One hour and 32 minutes early. My hands are shaky and I feel so much nervous energy, like I could start twitching. Behind my tired and heavy eyes, my mind immediately starts running 1,000 miles a minute.
My heart seems to be pounding in my chest. It’s not deafening, but I notice it. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. You’re not supposed to notice your own heart beat—it’s like breathing, it’s something you do unconsciously but it becomes laborious when you’re mindful of it.
I try to be still and quiet so as not to wake him. I try to silence my mind and to relax my muscles but I realize it’s futile. I reach for my phone and read my emails, check for new photos on Instagram, and take a peek at the weather for the day—frigid, yet again. But no matter how still I try to be, he always seems to know when I’m not restful and he begins to stir. Three gentle taps of his big, calloused hands on my arm tells me he loves me even when he’s still too sleepy to say it out loud.
He wakes up at his 6 a.m. alarm. He likes to be punctual and he has this habit of waking up hours before the time when he would absolutely have to wake up. He really does it for me, but he doesn’t say so.
I tell him that I’ll come downstairs too—there’s a lot that needs to be done and I won’t be able to sleep anyways. He tells me to stay put and to rest—I need it. So I do. I’m not able to sleep, but I enjoy the silence of the morning, the stillness of the house, the softness of the sheets, and the morning light peeking around the shades.
Even though I feel like curling up in a ball and staying there forever, I roll out of bed. I’m very quiet so as not to wake the baby. The old wooden floor creaks under my socked feet and I anticipate the dependable morning chatters of her morning wake. While the noise does bring joy to my heart, I also feel like cringing because it means I have to start the day. Another day. Yet another day. And I don’t know if I have the strength.
When I come down the stairs I smell the distinct woodsy smell of his soap. The air is warm and moist. He is freshly shaven and dressed in a white cotton shirt and red boxer shorts. I could forever breathe that smell—close my eyes and savor its pleasantness and how uniquely it is him. But there’s too much to be done and so I simply let the moment pass seemingly unnoticed.
I mutter good morning. He asks me what’s wrong. I sharply deny anything and everything. Nothing. It’s always nothing, yet it’s everything and I just can’t understand or express it all.
And then I notice. The clean dishes are put away, even though not exactly like I would put them away—I try not to focus on that because I know it’s not really important, but I still let it irritate me. The dirty dishes are loaded in the dishwasher, precisely the way that he believes is the best way to get them clean. He’s folding warm towels.
I breathe a sense of relief, but feel guilty that he has done all of this. I’m supposed to be the homemaker now, why am I struggling so much? Appreciation overflows from the cup of my very soul and I tell him how thankful I am for how much he does. His actions are precious gifts.
Feeling courageous after hearing his actions speak, I tell him how I feel. I am nervous. I worry that while we are out that baby will be out of control, that I won’t know how to keep her quiet, that everyone will be staring and judging me as a bad mother, that I don’t know what I’m doing, that I can’t keep afloat in this motherhood role. I am so nervous and it’s making me on edge. I desperately don’t want to feel nervous. I want to feel normal.
And he hugs me, assures me that he’ll be there and he will help. It will be ok. I breathe him in and I feel better.
The sun continues to rise while I make breakfast, feed the baby, brew coffee, plan lunch, make bottles, pack the baby bag, clear the dishes off the table, clean up the kitchen, and plan our outfits. It’s never enough though. There’s always more to be done. I’m exhausted and the day has barely begun.
I take a moment to sit down to finish my coffee, which has grown cold. I close my eyes and long for a caffeine rush but, as usual, it never comes. My mind does feel better for resting, but I still have to shower. I am in a nervous frenzy as I rush into the bathroom to get ready. I tell him that I don’t think I’m ever going to have enough time to get myself ready and to dress the baby. I try to hurry. I’m worried, nervous, and anxious.
When I step out of the shower, he is getting his clothes together. I hear the baby whining as she crawls towards the bathroom. I immediately start to panic and feel overwhelmed, even resentful. Though it doesn’t all lie on my shoulders, I feel like it does.
He picks up the baby and starts to sing “The Wheels on the Bus”, her favorite song and instant soother. His manly voice singing this childish song is a sweet melody to my heart. When I look at them both, my heart absolutely melts when I see he has dressed her.
Her gray cardigan sweater is buttoned up and beneath her purple and white polka dotted dress instead of over top of it. She’s wearing pink athletic style socks, but otherwise she is bare legged with no tights on. Her hair is disheveled and unruly. As he holds her like she is his masterpiece, his brown eyes are sparkling and he is beaming with pride.
Although she looks slightly irritated, her pretty pink lips curl and she smiles her toothy, slobbery grin. She bounces in excitement.
And I giggle at the sight of it all. And then I start laughing so hard I feel like I could cry. He laughs too, but doesn’t know why I’m laughing.
I’m pretty sure there is no greater love than his on this earth. And I am so grateful that he shares it with me.
This post was written prior to a postpartum depression diagnosis. This is a snapshot of a moment of an ordinary day with postpartum depression.
This post is also in response to the 52 Weeks of Gratitude Challenge on Pinterest, “Spouse/significant other” writing prompt.
I don’t have much to say about health, fitness and weight loss right now, but I have found that writing about my thoughts and feelings has been really helpful for me, whether I publish what I write or not.
I found this 52 Weeks of Gratitude Challenge on Pinterest (writing prompts) and I decided this would give me a good jumping off point to start writing. I will probably just write about the prompts when I feel like it as opposed to one a week, since we are on week 8 anyways!
Writing. I remember first wanting to become a writer in first grade. I loved the enchantment of stories and being able enter into this other world just by reading. And there were times along the way that I thought I wanted to be a doctor or a veterinarian, but by middle school I wanted to be a journalist and by high school I decided to major in English. And I did.
My very first class at a four year institution, after transferring from a community college, was called Personal Essay. I loved this class. I loved the eccentric people in it. They loved writing just as much as I did. I felt very much at home.
There was an older woman in this class, who hardly had the lung capacity to walk to class, but she was taking the class for fun because she wanted something to inspire her to write. She dressed in clothes with wild prints and exotic colors—and just as her clothing, she was bright and cheerful. She was also had an incredible ability to paint with words. I wish I remembered her name. She was already an author and was working on publishing a book about her childhood. She had a grandmotherly kindness. I remember her telling me to just write about anything and everything.
But I struggled in the class, not with my grade or the quality of my writing, but with finding my voice. I was too scared to show what was really in my head, too protective of my heart to put it on the page, too scared of being vulnerable, just too scared. I remember the professor telling me to be authentically myself and I struggled with it.
I learned a lot in this class. I read about the pain and heartbreak, joys, successes and failures of many other people in this class. I was moved by it. I still remember their memoirs almost eight years later.
This art of writing, of expressing the thoughts and emotions that feel so unique to each of us but are often so universally experienced, is absolutely captivating. I love the freedom of it, and I love the outlet I have for it on this blog—even though I often worry about judgment.
Just like when I was too scared in my college writing course to express myself on paper and have my writing critiqued by strangers, we are often too scared to voice or write about what we feel-- even to our loved ones. Why? Vulnerability is hard. I find this especially true about the experience of motherhood. We have to keep up appearances, I suppose.
And so, I am starting this challenge as a means to dive head first into writing for writing’s sake, to keep chasing after that dream of being a writer. I don’t promise to be the most talented writer, have perfect grammar, or even make revisions and numerous drafts to publish a masterpiece (I never do this, but probably should)—but I do promise to pour my heart onto the page.
This might sound kind of weird, but sometimes I wish I could just close my eyes and be at complete and utter peace. I don’t mean that in a morbid way at all, more like I wish I could just go to sleep and be in complete silence—no thoughts, no worries, no hurt, no responsibility, completely safe, completely healthy, with just the quiet sound of my breath rising and falling.
It’s that feeling.
When I have tried to describe this feeling, I imagine myself completely submerged in warm water. There’s that underwater sound where everything is muffled and you can’t really make out anything. It’s quiet, but very much alive. I’d like to be in that moment and hit pause. I’d feel that blending of stillness and unstoppable movement. I’d hear that quiet noise. Eyes squeezed shut so that I only hear the silence and only feel the warmth. And then, after that brief moment, I’d find this innate strength to push off of the bottom with my feet and break the barrier where the water meets the air and take that big gulp of air, feel the air meet my skin, open my eyes and be momentarily blinded by the brightness of the sun reflecting off of the water on my eye lashes-- and feel very much alive.
It’s that feeling.
Sometimes I think back to a trip to Mexico and I remember the best nap of my entire life. It was warm and sunny and there was a sea-kissed breeze. I could hear the sea splashing on the sand. I sat under the shade of a palm tree. The love of my life was by my side and I felt safe and secure. And I slept. And I woke up refreshed, alive, and happy.
It’s that feeling.
Thank you to those of you who have reached out to me with similar experiences or just expressed care and concern for how I’ve been feeling. I really appreciate that and it helps me realize that I’m not alone in this and that how I feel isn’t “normal”, but I’m not the only one who has ever felt this way before.
Since I have talked about some of the very minor details of how I’m feeling on the blog now, I thought I should update you all and let you know that I finally found the courage to make an appointment with the doctor. I go back in forth in my head all the time about canceling the appointment—but my “issues/struggles” have gotten to the point where I absolutely know I cannot live like this and need help and so that helps me stay strong in what feels like absolute weakness.
I don’t know why I didn’t see it before and I wish so badly that I had gotten help before now. It has only progressively gotten worse. And I hope and pray that there is help for me. Worry, worry, worry.
On Friday, I decided to go to Kohl’s with baby and, while I survived, by the time I got home I was about undone. Baby was perfectly behaved and happy, except for crying the entire way home (which I think would be hard for anyone). But it’s these little things, like going out in public alone, that are just too much for me.
There are so many tears—but it has become a good outlet for my feelings. It’s not that I’m sad. It’s more overwhelming anxiety. But this is not normal.
But over the weekend, I felt like myself for a brief moment. I felt that joy in my heart. I was smiling. I was singing. I felt happy. And that made me realize how much I’ve missed just feeling like myself.
It’s when I have those moments that I think hey, maybe I’m ok. But fast forward to the middle of the night and I can’t turn my mind off. I worry and worry about things past, present and future. I wake up feeling nervous and jittery simply in anticipation about leaving the house again.
I just can’t live like that. There’s so much pressure. It feels like this huge weight on my chest. Everything feels heavy. I keep taking deep breaths. My heart seems to race. My shoulders, neck, and arms feel so tense.
And then the littlest things will be my undoing. My heart breaks easier. I become irritated and angry very quickly. All of these emotions—they’re so heavy. And this is just a part of it, I don’t really feel like divulging every little detail about how I feel yet.
It has been good now that I can acknowledge there’s something wrong. I think it has been good for both me and hubby because it’s been a realization that I haven’t just become this horrible person and wife—something is wrong, something is not right. And then we think about a million things that have happened in the past 9 1/2 months and it all becomes clear and it all starts to make sense. How is it that we didn’t realize this before now? We thought we were educated.
And now, even when I feel it’s trivial, if hubby asks what’s wrong—I tell him. Like Sunday morning, he could tell I was a bit irritated or something was wrong and he asked. At first I sharply said, “nothing” and when he left the room, I took a moment to think about what was really wrong.
And then I realized it, I was feeling really nervous about leaving the house. And so I told him that. And he gave me a hug—a much better alternative than my feeling escalating and my taking it out on him instead.
I feel like I’ve taken 1,000 steps by even admitting that something isn’t right. Now it’s just anticipation of the appointment coming up and hopefully figuring out the “why” and receiving a diagnosis and plan. I hope there’s hope—if that makes sense.
I have been contemplating taking a hiatus from my personal Facebook for about a week now. I’ve been on Facebook since 2007 and not once in those 8 years have I decided to pull the plug—until recently.
I’m not sure what changed—but I think that my current struggles have a lot to do with it. Ultimately, Facebook is stressing me out. Scrolling through my feed makes me anxious and on edge and yet I can’t seem to close out of my app.
A little perspective. I used to like to stay on top of the news and be informed about what’s going on in the world, in my community, in the community where I grew up, etc. I enjoyed reading in depth articles about politics, current events, science and health, advances in technology, social issues, etc. But I just can’t take it anymore—there is so much negativity, violence and sadness in this world and all of this filling up my news feed on Facebook gets overwhelming.
It seems like Facebook knows what trips my trigger and stories show up on my feed that irritate me and cause me anxiety. For just one example, I see a million stories about motherhood and how “breast is best” and how formula feeders are irresponsible. These people do not understand nor do they try to understand why some of us mamas had to make the choice that we did to formula feed. And it’s heartbreaking for me. It causes me more guilt.
It feels like Facebook is a bully that constantly shoves negativity and hurtful comments in my direction for slow consumption over time—building me up until I’m full of guilt, regret and fear…and then what?
I think we all have one or two of those people in our lives who are into drama, drama, drama. I had a temporary lapse of judgment recently and engaged in conversation with one of these queens and I immediately regretted it. I quickly realized that I didn’t have the energy (nor the will) to continue the conversation and I bowed out gracefully—while this person interpreted it as a lack of intelligence on my part and insulted me as such. Really, who has the time and energy for that?
Sometimes I feel like Facebook has given me the mirage of having a big circle of friends. While many of my friends really are true friends and family, there are so many people that aren’t. There are people from my past who bullied me, hurt my feelings, broke my heart, lied to me, didn’t include me and now send me requests to be Facebook friends. And I accept because I don’t want to cause any hard feelings. The irony.
In this odd sort of way, Facebook teaches us to hold onto the past, be obsessed with the present—but to not BE present. All in the name of “staying in touch” and being connected. I fear that we lose those real connections because of it.
I use Facebook a lot for communication, even with those whom I am real friends with. I wanted to give anyone a chance to message me their number, etc. if they wanted to stay in touch during my hiatus. And I’ve been thankful there are those who have—real friends, those who care to stay in touch beyond the news feed.
As of noon today, I will be deactivating my personal Facebook account. I am doing this AT LEAST through the end of the month. At that point, I will reevaluate and decide if I need Facebook in my life and if so, on what terms. Please note that I will continue to update my blog Facebook page as usual—no problems for me on that page!
I think it will be good for me and is a step towards my New Year Resolution to be more unplugged.
Seeing this video helped me make a final decision about taking a Facebook hiatus. I hope this opens your eyes about social media and technology overuse in general, too.
Lately, I have felt frumpy and unattractive. I spend these long winter days cooped up at home wearing my too-tight yoga pants and old t-shirts. My hair is often a crazy mess and I’d be embarrassed if someone showed up at the door. It seems like acne is my BFF and it helps when I can put on some Estee Lauder—but I often don’t take the time to shower until the afternoon because it’s just easier that way.
And I can see how my current routine wouldn’t make me feel very pretty. Maybe all mothers go through this. I don’t want to say that I’ve let myself go, but maybe I have. It seems to happen when you put someone else’s needs before your own 24/7.
I have very few clothes that fit me right now. I have refused to buy much because I keep thinking that I’ll be losing weight very soon and be smaller before I know it. And so even when I go out, I am wearing the same old clothes over and over and over. I don’t wear heals anymore because I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to walk and hold the baby at the same time (anyone who knows this knows how clumsy I am, so this is probably a good decision. HA!). But I don’t feel pretty at all. I’m embarrassed.
I don’t want to accept where I am, how much I weigh, and what I look like right now. I’d rather not admit it. I haven’t even come out on this blog and admitted how much damage I’ve done because I don’t want to face it. It’s too painful.
But it’s where I am and I think I need to acknowledge that. I need to stop wishing that I was in the body I had three years ago (which I thought was horribly fat at the time anyways) and accept that this is where I am right at this very moment. It doesn’t mean that I have to stay here. It doesn’t mean I’m stuck here. But it’s ok to make an effort to feel good about myself right now, flaws and all.
What I should do is go shopping for new clothes that make me feel good about myself. I should get a pedicure now instead of waiting until I lose 10 lbs. I should get my face waxed on a regular basis. I should spend a few extra dollars for the shampoo and conditioner that keep my frizz to a minimum instead of trying to get by with the cheap stuff. Maybe I should even go tanning a time or two to see if that helps fight any winter blues. Being on a budget makes all of this difficult, but with a little planning, I’m sure we could make these things happen—even if not all at once.
I would love to wake up early, get in my workout, shower, put on a little makeup, maybe even put on some nicer clothes. It’d be nice to have some me time before the beginning of the day. However, it seems like whenever I try that the baby decides she will wake up even earlier than her normal wake up time in the 6 a.m. hour. And I’ve talked about how too little sleep causes me to start spiraling out of control. Oofta.
I hate talking about this stuff because I know how trivial it must sound. Believe me, I know my struggles are nothing compared to those of others—but it’s still very real to me. I think I am being “educated” because maybe I didn’t have enough compassion for other people in my situation in the past. I believe that every trial can make me a better person. I’m listening, I’m paying attention, and I’m learning many lessons in life right now.
I wish so badly that I could be one of those mothers with such grace. That I had it all together. That my baby weight was gone and that I hadn’t gained even more. That I could look and feel pretty. That I knew how to count my blessings instead of being blinded by my struggles. That it wasn’t such a struggle for me. That even thought I am struggling that it didn’t show. I wish I could at least appear that I have it all together.
And maybe I can. Maybe if I just take the time for appearances sake, it might start to rub off on other areas of my life. Maybe I will feel more together. This will be my mission from now on. I’ll try to do things that make me feel better about myself. To put a little more effort in.
Thanks for listening (reading).
To say I have been struggling might even be too fair. Starting on Friday, I pretty much gave up the struggle and now my weight is showing it!
I am an emotional eater. Early on, I learned to eat for comfort and it’s a habit that I have not been able to break.
On Friday, I had to take baby to the doctor for her well baby appointment. I got to the office on time, checked in, filled out the 10,000 page survey they give me every single time, and waited.
People came into the office, were called in right away, and left. I assumed they were seeing a different doctor. I waited for 1 hour, to be exact, before going up to the desk and asking if they had forgotten about me. The lady took an awful long time “checking on it” for me, I saw her print out some papers, etc. When she came back, she told me they were busy and just waiting for a room to open up but I was next.
When the nurse finally called us, she apologized profusely and told me that the lady at the front hadn’t given them our paperwork. She saw that we were checked in and everything but she didn’t have the paperwork. How irritating! It was both the lady at the desk and the nurse’s fault, in my opinion. The lady at the desk should have done the paperwork and the nurse should have asked if she thought it was strange we were there but there was no paperwork. UGH!
I am very good at stuffing everything inside. I told them it was no problem and that I understood. Inside I was about ready to burst into tears.
Baby girl was SO good the entire time. She even missed her nap. She had all kinds of people to watch to keep her entertained. I walked around with her in the office when she got fussy, etc. A little boy who didn’t speak English was especially enamored by her and he came over and kissed her feet (haha), as I worried that the boy was going to give her measles or something…
But it’s so incredibly stressful for me to take her out of the house and it just does me in every.single.time. I don’t go to the store unless hubby is with me (although I am going to attempt it later this week). And even when he’s with me I am so tense and stressed out the entire time. Going to our hour long church meetings twice a week leaves me exhausted—literally on Sundays we come home and I just crash when baby takes her nap, totally out of commission. The rest really helps keep me from a downward spiral. We miss a second church meeting in the day because I just can’t handle it right now and that makes me sad.
This past week, I felt especially overwhelmed. I took naps when I would normally exercise. It was the right choice, I know this. But then I never found the energy and the motivation to get my exercise in later. I want to change that this week.
So back on to what I was talking about—these stressful events often trigger emotional eating. It started on Friday with a cookie from Jimmy Johns after the appointment. And then I just didn’t do all that well the rest of the weekend. When you’re tired, you don’t feel like cooking. And that either means restaurant food or a simple and less than healthy meal (think mac and cheese). Mostly it meant overeating and not stopping when I was full when I KNEW I was full. I wanted to feel better but food wasn’t the answer, though I was determined it would be.
I woke up today feeling like my weight was spiraling out of control. And it is. I am so close to my third trimester pregnancy weight that it’s ridiculous. Yes, this is coming just a few days after meeting my new low—let’s face it, I’m not really losing weight so well right now even if I have lost some, it’s not nearly enough.
I’m doing well so far today with making good eating choices. I plan on getting in my workout today. I also plan on taking time for myself (like I am right now). Even just writing this all out helps me sort things out in my head, and maybe I shouldn’t hit publish but maybe some of you will understand and I will get some encouragement.
I haven’t been blogging very personally lately because I don’t really want to talk about things. Don’t worry—the marriage is fine, the baby is fine, we are fine.
It’s me. It’s how I feel, it’s the struggles I’m having that I am realizing don’t have to be my new norm, it’s my apprehension to take the first step. I keep thinking that it will get better and it does for brief moments, but it always returns and it’s getting worse. But I want to think it’s getting better. I want to think that it doesn’t exist and that everything is fine. I am sorry for being vague, when I am on the other side of this I will talk about it.
And so while I want to cut myself some slack, I also realize that my health is spiraling out of control. I have to take action. NOW. But I’m scared, and so I keep waiting.
Their reactions are so funny!
Are you guilty of this kind of behavior? It’s easy to be persuaded that something is healthy even if it’s not.
This made me think of the variety of products marketed towards dieters. 100 calorie packs, diet chocolates, baked chips, and even some granola bars.These foods are often just glorified junk foods that many of us convince ourselves are better for us than the real things and they’re really not! But we believe they are and so we consume them thinking that we’re doing our bodies good and that we are sticking to our diets and getting healthy.
On another note, the mind is a powerful tool. If we believe that a workout is doing our body good, that fresh and natural foods nourish our bodies, that we are WORTH change—we will put our beliefs into action and see results.
Since we’re living on a stricter budget these days, I am not buying what I want shortly after I decide that I want it. With a baby in the picture and the loss of a second income, those days are probably gone for a long time! That’s not really a bad thing—there’s something satisfying about planning and getting your act together when it comes to budgeting.
But I have been dreaming about a few fitness items that I want and/or need. I’m also doing a little more research before purchases now to make sure I am getting a product that I will love and will last a long time. I’d love your input on any of these items!
A few years ago, I had a Fitbit and I lost it at work one day. I was pretty bummed about it. But you guys, the Fitbits that are on the market today are way cooler than what I had back then!
I’m not sure which model I want. At $99.95, the Fitbit Flex is the less expensive option and it would probably meet my current needs.
But I plan to get back to previous fitness levels which included running longer distances and paying attention to my heart rate (I just love data), and so the Fitbit Charge HR would probably meet all of those needs but it costs $149.95.
But I also like my Garmin GPS watch because I know exactly how far I have gone when exercising outside. For that reason, I most want the Fitbit Surge because it has GPS, heart rate monitoring and is the whole kit and caboodle (and remember how much I love numbers and data). But it’s $249.95 and that’s pretty steep for someone who hasn’t gotten her act together yet! On another note, this would eliminate my need for my Garmin GPS and my HR monitor and so I could sell each of those to reduce the cost.
You can get Free shipping with orders over $50 at Fitbit.com! (affiliate link)
So many options! Do you have a Fitbit? Which one? What are your thoughts?
This one is a lot more affordable but also more immediate—I am down to just a few pairs of socks.
I have a few requirements for socks: 1) they must come above my ankle. Socks that slide down are the WORST! 2) they must be made of a fabric that doesn’t rub my skin the wrong way and contribute to soreness and blisters. 3) they must keep my feet dry and cool because nobody likes hot and stinky feet!
And for this one, I’d love your suggestions because I don’t really know where to start.
My yoga pants have become so tight that I do not wear them in public unless I am feeling no sense of shame or am too tired to care anymore (wait that doesn’t happen to me…nope not to me…).
I need some workout clothes designed for the plus sized woman. My curves are extra curvy right now and I need some workout apparel that flatters me.
I have been working out in old cotton t-shirts (literally there are holes in the armpits) and my overly tight yoga pants.
Did you know Athleta has a Plus Size section? They sure do. Anyone tried their product? I especially like this extra long Chi tank.
I usually buy my workout clothes from Old Navy, but I think I will have to order online from the Plus section if I go that route.
All of my “plus size” women out there, where do you buy your workout clothes? Do you have a piece that you especially love?
Confession: my need for this is two fold: 1) hard core workouts (OF COURSE) and 2) mostly so I can hide what a hot mess I look like before I have time to shower. Seriously, I need to hide my hair.
A lot of headbands don’t work for me. I tell myself that my head is so huge because I have such a big brain to hold my smarts. ha. But really, I’m plagued with an oddly shaped bowling ball head and so headbands need to be just right.
I’d love to try a Bondi Band. They look like they would cover my crazy hair and stay on my large head. I’m in love with the white dots on pink one:
Do you have a favorite workout headband? What brand?
My workout playlist is filled with songs from a few years ago. I’d love to add Katy Perry’s “Roar”. I’d like to compile a playlist of upbeat songs like this to get me moving!
What songs are on your workout playlist?
This week I lost .8 lb. which puts me at a total loss so far of 4.2 lbs. It’s progress and I will take it!
It wasn’t that long ago that I was at my lowest weight and struggling to lose more. I was really hard on myself and blamed myself that I wasn’t doing enough to lose the weight. In fact, I was exercising (running) regularly and eating very, very healthily.
I used to take every comment I received to heart. All kinds of people would comment and tell me that I shouldn’t be eating fruit, sugar, flour, eggs, gluten, potatoes, or dairy (to name a few). I should eat more protein, less fat, more fat, more beans, drink only juice, eat only raw food, never eat past 7 p.m., eat more snacks, less snacks, never snack, go on this diet, eat less carbs, eat carbs at certain times of the day, go on that diet, take these pills, drink these shakes, and so much more.
And I listened. And I beat myself up about it. And I tried to stand for what I believed would work for me because it had been working for me, but I failed and fell into the trap of following whatever fad I thought would work. I thought that I had to change my habits because they didn’t work, forgetting the fact that the way I was eating had afforded me an almost 90 lb. weight loss.
One of my biggest stumbles was not believing in myself and not giving myself a break. I couldn’t truly acknowledge the strides I had made following my own intuition because I was too busy thinking that everyone else knew better than me. The truth is, I know what’s best for my body and I don’t have to feel bad because I’m not doing what someone else is doing or losing as fast as, well, pretty much every other person out there.
And so I am starting to get back into my groove. I have had a bit of an epiphany, as of late, of the unrealistic expectations that I set for myself. I am too hard on myself. I worry too much. I am not perfect and I don’t have to beat myself up over that fact—really, I don’t. I am trying to relax and not be such a bundle of nerves all of the time. I’m admitting I have a problem, and I’m trying to take steps in the right direction.
I am often ashamed that my losses have been so small—but I know the strides I have taken. I don’t show or talk about my struggles. But they’re there and I am jumping the hurdles, albeit not always so gracefully. Right now, I am working on being kind to myself. There is hope and I know that if I feel better and more like “myself” on a regular basis, I will see the big strides I saw a few years ago.
So anyways, I’m not sure all of this makes sense—but I laid it all out there! Summary: I’m being kind to myself, trusting myself, and not being overly concerned with the number on the scale because it’s not my only battle to fight and certainly not the most important one.
Head on over to Finding Radiance for the details of the 5th Annual Healthy Heart Weekend. I plan on walking that weekend as my activity.
Lori is one of my favorite bloggers and is an inspiration. She has kept over 100 lbs. off! She makes an active lifestyle look fun, eats delicious foods in moderation, and has an overall healthy approach to weight loss.
To keep myself on track, I thought I would take a moment to reflect on the goals I set for 2015. Have I made any progress?
 Lose Weight | I’ve lost 3.4 lbs. so far. I need to get more serious about the scale though. |
| Exercise Regularly | I’m doing really well with this! I’m exercising 4 days per week |
 Be Present (unplugged) | Fail. Miserably. I am attached to my phone. I still need to work on this. |
| A Single Step (towards being a writer) | I have submitted bids to work on projects but so far nothing has panned out. I’m feeling a little discouraged with this at the moment but not giving up. |
 Make New Friends | Not feeling like myself doesn’t really make it a good time to put myself out there to try to make friends. But I’ll get there. |
| Budget | We’re doing it—it’s not fun or all that easy sometimes, but it will be worth it. |
| Purge | We sold quite a few items and I made one drop off at the consignment store at the beginning of the month. |
| Blog More | I’ve been posting regularly which makes me happy. I enjoy blogging. |
 Read More | The best of intentions. I did some reading but I did not meet my goal of reading an entire book. |
 A Better Me | To be honest, I feel like I have been the worst me yet. That doesn’t make me feel good, but I’m working on it. |
So I have made progress in some areas but there’s still a lot of work to be done. This has been a good reminder of what I want to accomplish for myself.
Have you checked in with your 2015 resolutions? How are you doing?
