A year ago today...

A year ago today I was staring down the barrel of one of the hardest physical challenges of my life.  A year ago today I went in for my first reconstructive surgery (tummy tuck) with all the bravery and smiles a girl who had halved herself could muster!  I was the fittest and healthiest I’ve EVER been, I’d worked SO hard, I was mentally and physically ready - and I was determined to rock that surgery in every way possible!

A year later, and I’m sitting here with what feels like a fist gripping my heart.  It’s been THE hardest year of my transition, and part of me is just….  hurting/lamenting/questioning/dreaming/consoling… ?  I’m not sure how I feel at the moment.  Very mixed emotions.

Ofcourse, I had to contend with the physical issues post-surgery – there was dizzy spells and fatigue like nothing else.  Ofcourse there was the pain and swelling of cutting off a significant portion of your body. But it was the insane staph infection which totally messed me around for bulk of the months following (and even 12 months later, I still have a few slight issues) – and the biggest brain-messer-uperer was when I “burst at the seams” from the infection.  Scariest thing I’ve been through – there are just no words when you have a mass load of fluids streaming out of a wound in your body and you’re helpless to do anything about it...  It made me seriously question if any of it was worth it.

As the months rolled on, I realised there were other issues coming out of the woodwork that I hadn’t had to deal with before – nor had I been prepped or ‘warned’ about.  My anxiety levels skyrocketed – my heart palpitations were fit to send sonic shockwaves through all of Bathurst on some days.  I’d be close to heart-attack status with the anxiety, just trying to walk into a shopping centre to buy a few groceries, after numerous near-fainting spells over the first couple of months left some jagged memories in there that would shoot me with anxiety every time I’d attempt it.  Even trying to leave my house was becoming problematical – driving my car would scare me (I nearly fainted driving the car when I didn’t know I was infected) - and exercise… pfft.  It started scaring the life out of me – my body would ‘tighten’ when it was swollen with heat or movement, and most days it felt like the safest place for me was to lay on the floor.  Couldn’t fall any further if I was already on the floor. I became very accustomed to laying on the floor.

It hurt SO BAD in that first six months – I was shattered.  My surgery wasn’t the ‘be all, end all’ – it left me significantly scarred (not my surgical scar – that mofo rocks my world, it’s seriously bad arse from hip to hip!!).  No – my mental state was completely shattered.  I was fucked (for want of a better word…!).

My anxiety – untreated and undiagnosed – turned into depression over winter (one of my trouble points on any given year!) – but fuelled with the hurt and resentment of the swelling, issues, anxiety, and my distaste of my wonky, still “unattractive” body….  I forfeited into a spiral of self-hatred and ended up totally lost.

If you’ve read my previous (and very infrequent, very distanced) blogs this year – you’ll have probably caught onto the fact that I wasn’t very ‘ok’.  I thought I had it covered… hell, I’ve been through worse in the past (or so I thought!) – but this was a whole new kettle of fish.  I was in unchartered territory – again – and it left me completely lost.

I went in search of outlets and ‘help’ throughout different avenues this year – including the Brisbane and Sydney Emazon STAND conventions in March and September.  These taught me that there is far more to life than the ‘superficial’ (which I already knew) and pushed me to re-discover and re-connect with my Spirit – and work on finding meaningful relationships with everything in my world.  Including myself – one of my hardest tasks.   

Trying to piece myself together after a massive physical transformation, I was coming unstuck.  Literally.  The surgery – "I thought" – was going to help me feel better about myself.  To help me facilitate some awesome self-love that was still lacking.  Help me be brave and put myself out there – so maybe someone else could see past the exterior and like Amy (god knows my biggest fear is ending up completely alone for the rest of my life…!).   But there it was – in cold hard black and white (or in my case, black and blue!) – the superficial was NOT my answer.  The surgery had failed me in that respect.  My weightloss, therefore, felt like it had failed me too.

I was emptier AFTER surgery than I've ever felt before.   …. And it broke my freaking heart.  

I didn’t look how I wanted – I didn’t like what I saw – I felt rejected, dejected and foul.  It wasn’t “the best thing you’ll ever do Amy!” as I’d heard numerous times prior surgery –  I resented what I saw in the mirror – and even worse, resented the girl staring back at me who had DONE THAT TO ME!  I blamed her for my brokenness.  I hated where I was.

I was full of hate and hurt…. again.  Just like I was when I was twice my size.   THAT is what hurts the most…  How did I end up right back there again?!  

Twelve months later, and I’m still being asked about the surgery.  I went AWOL for a while – trying to deal with everything. I felt I couldn’t comment in a positive light, so I just stopped commenting at all.  People would ask me for specific details, and photos – and it’d take all my energy not to want to shake them and tell them ‘DON’T DO IT!!!’… but I knew that’s not how I felt entirely about it all.  I was just hurting.

There is still a wad of leftover skin on my belly….  That’s something they don’t tell you either – here I was thinking it was going to help rid all that, but NO – there’s only “so much they can take” because its living tissue / blood loss issues mean they can only do so much.   When I was carrying the amount of skin that I was, from having been the size I was, I was left with more skin than I actually realised…  I learnt that the hard way.

I’ve deliberately refrained from showing pictures.  I’m still struggling with body shame – and quite frankly I can see no need to showcase pics of me in my undies for public scrutiny!   I’m far too scared of the damage that may do… even though I’ve suggested in the past that I would offer those up “when I was brave enough”.  Truth is, I’m just not.   I’d love to show the difference between the before and after- it’s quite significant (or at least, moreso at the beginning of the year before my self-sabotage stint) – but I don’t think it’s ‘show worthy’ (my stomach isn’t flat – my body is bumpy and lumpy and I still carry wads of skin in other areas that upset me…).  So it’ll remain private – and as it is, I can barely look at those photos myself without ending up upset.  Looking in the mirror now is hard enough – I haven’t even HAD photos taken in the last few months because of the decline in my mental state in relation to my body.  I feel as though we haven’t even been on speaking terms for bulk of this year.

That’s the thing right there.  The disappointment in the physicality has instigated a serious shift in perspective in my mental state – a very rapid, very dangerous decline.  It had taken me YEARS to like what my body was achieving – losing the weight, getting fitter, reshaping – I was actually starting to LIKE who and what I was!!    There’s one photo taken just a week or so before surgery in a dress at Finale, end of November, that I was totally in love with!  I was just radiant – super happy – and it showed in my face, in my  body, in the way I talked, laughed, looked…

Twelve months later, and I’m a mess.   My body gave out when my heart and head did.  I’m pretty sure I just gave up mid this year. It was just too much. Too hard.  I was over it.  I ached from tip to toe.  Physically and mentally.  I couldn’t breathe from the anxiety, and I didn’t care because my heart hurt so much.  

Add to that, I’d put myself ‘out there’ earlier in the year, hoping I was a bit more desirable (also mistakenly assuming I was more comfortable in my skin) – I’d been met with a string of rejections.  Having my heart ripped out of my chest when I connected with someone, when they chose someone else – well that was the last straw.  I don’t think I recovered after that – to me, that was the biggest confirmation that I was still unwanted – still not good enough.  I stopped looking, I shut down, I gave up on that too.  In my eyes, I was too hideous and foul – and at the rate my esteem was plummeting – too gross of a person, on the inside as much as the outside, to love anyway…  (I’m still fighting this thinking…!)

Lots of tears and lots of FOOD MEDICATING later – and a couple of months ago I’d had enough.  I was tired of crying, tired of hating myself, tired of fighting over and over again the same shit day in, day out.  I was pissed off that I was fighting depression-symptoms again, and I was TERRIFIED that I was heading towards self-harm territory like I’ve dealt with in the past.  Absolutely terrified – and totally fucked off.  I DID NOT WORK MY ARS E OFF TO GO BACK THERE!!!

I wasn’t getting anywhere on my own – I wasn’t winning.  The anxiety had turned festy, and I KNEW I wasn’t winning against that - everything upset me and every day I was contending with 'something'.  I was more inclined to eat my emotions, my body was aching even though I wasn’t training, and I was tired.  Constantly, utterly tired.  I had unexplained pain and fatigue – tendonitis in my arm, severe joint immobility and now a heel spur from seemingly out of nowhere!  My body was breaking down – right along with my head.   So I sought help.   I pulled in my stubborn Taurean head and went to the Dr…

Last couple of months I’ve been on low-dose anti-depressants to help calm the anxiety (and for the most part it’s worked, I don’t rock sonic shockwaves nearly as much now! I was VERY anti-drugs prior to this, so was a major decision for me to go down this path) – and despite my fear of counselling (for valid reasons from prior experience) – I found a local counsellor to go and talk to.  I was punishing myself with massive self-blame, and it was unravelling me.  She was pretty quick to pick up on that in the first couple of sessions – and her questioning me on why I was so adamant on taking the blame for EVERYTHING, and then sabotaging and hating myself for it (when it wasn’t always warranted or even my fault!) - was a key to helping me start turning it around.

I started implementing other techniques aswell - including positive meditation that I’d listen to of a night, and gave myself permission to step back from “the weightloss world” and look after myself for a while.  I hadn’t been able to do that before…  (I felt compelled to help everyone – but then I was hating myself for being a “failure” in the process, a hypocrite – who’d want to listen to the girl who couldn’t even sort her own shit out?!!).  And let’s not even mention the hideous jealousy…  Ohhhh dear god, green eyed monster for sure!    I took myself off dating sites, and I deleted a wad of people from my social networks that I just couldn’t handle ‘for now’ (sorry if that was you, ha!).   I sat on my arse, I ate whatever I wanted, I slept as much as I could and I tried not to let my head go rancid.   I put myself into a bubble for a while – it was time to heal.

So that’s where I find myself today.  Twelve months on from my first reconstructive surgery.  They took about 4kgs of skin off – and in 12 months I’ve put on 15kgs (was nearly 20) – became reclusive – regurgitated some serious self-hatred of times gone by – and learnt some hardcore home truths about being superficial!      My heart hurts for the life lessons I’ve had to endure – but in saying that, had I not gone through this, had everything been “peachy and beautiful” – I’d have missed some of my biggest turning points and experience.  I wouldn’t have found gratitude in other areas or learnt to take the hits the way I have. 

Was it the best thing I've ever done for myself?  Well no - but it has played its part in helping reshape me - physically and mentally.  There are benefits in lesser loose skin - although I spend bulk of my time pulling my undies up now because they keep rolling down over a belly that's out of shape to the rest of me!  I find myself with pockets of fat that weren't there before, with the sabotage-gain and lack of weight training muscle loss - I guess the fat cells have to accumulate somewhere else?!    But I can do pushups now without wanting to hang my head in shame because my gut falls on the floor - which is something that used to send me into fits of tears....  And when I run (if and when I can run these days!) - it doesn't hurt my belly as much as it used to or slap against my thighs  (that's not to say there aren't other issues though - thigh slappage of its own accord is still there!!!).   My body is nowhere near perfect - it's anything but - but it's mobile, and now that I'm back to looking after it PROPERLY - not fueled with hatred or wrong goals - I hope we can start talking again, and make some progress.  I sincerely hope the twelve months ahead can turn this experience into a positive learning curve, and help facilitate some real self-love and acceptance for what I am, who I am, as I am. 

Weightloss can no longer be my main focus.  It’s EGO based, and reflects badly against the person I am within.  It’s superficial and living off the Ego of weightloss success - without having created a tangible, meaningful esteem behind it - leaves you longing and empty.  Let that be my lesson to you all right there!!   My “success” is not found on the scales – it’s in my strength of character, my honesty in myself, my integrity in accountability.   Who I am is not measured on anything other than the heart inside – and as it stands, she’s pretty ok – even with the multiple hits this year that have taken a few chunks out of it.

Would I like a smaller arse?  Sure. 

Do I want to lose this gain and go back to my smallest size pre-surgery?  Yes. 

Will I surrender to quick gimmicks, shortcuts, self-manifesting diabolical obsessive body-smashing or unnecessary starvation to get the results I want?   Hell no.  

Will I have more surgery in the future?  I don’t know.

Will I overcome my twelve months of hurt?  Yes.

Will I be ok?  Yes.

    

Pictures of you...

You know I talk "real" about this whole weightloss caper - been at it for over 6 years, I know it's anything BUT super easy - the ups and downs are exhausting!   This year has been one of my hardest mental battles during transition - much more intense than starting out, the doubt, the pushing for control, the physical hurdles as I was shrinking.  Everything mentally this year has pushed me to fighting and sheer exhaustion - the surgery malfunction, the bitter disappointment, the relapse of my depression over winter, and my gain thereafter (I condense the last 9 months in just a few words... it certainly has never felt that "easy" or brief, some days are bleeping hell.)

I've been told that weight issues are just a manifestation of what's hindering you inside (or words to that effect) - and I'm actually not surprised.  My weightgain this year has been a combination of that sheer exhaustion, the spiral of negativity that comes with still not being comfortable in my own skin, the rejection of putting myself "out there", and the self-sabotage and 'well why do I even  bother!'....  OH and that's not to mention the intense emotional backflipping binging that goes hand-in-hand with all the other torments, and then the body totally shutting down in self-protection mode because the rest of the inmates in the joint are running amok!

What fun and joy!!!   Whilst I've been stuffing M&Ms into my mouth with one hand, and dabbing my droopy mascara-stained eyes with the other, my weight has slowly crept up.  No surprise.  Every time I'd walk past the scales, the pangs of hideous shame would hit (to the point where I put them away just so I wouldn't have an anxiety attack every time) - while at the same time I rebelliously loathed and dismissed the damn things because they were damaging my already fragile inner psyche (scales don't measure your true success, and they sure as hell don't measure your overall worth.... my realist inside would say!).

When I had more muffin hanging over the top of my jeans than I was eating, I knew I'd lost my control entirely.  All those lovely smaller clothes I had in my wardrobe didn't fit anymore.  It went hand in hand with my - now hugely evolving - reclusive state, my shut-down from my networks, hiding away and shunning myself away from successful people because I no longer deserved to be in the same category.   I wasn't training because my body hurt so much to move - my joints hurt despite doing very little, my body and brain were completely messed up.

I even went so far as to be fully blood-tested for chronic fatigue a couple of months ago - I was so sure there was something physically wrong with me because I was exhausted beyond belief... but when my bloods all came back even BETTER than post-infection earlier this year, it just jolted me back to reality.   My entire body and mind were in turmoil - and I had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

It's taken me MONTHS to get back to this point of writing - acknowledging - and being able to start being proactive in producing changes again.  My eating is still verging on 'WHOAAAA don't eat the whole horse!'   My exercise is sporadic, and completely dependent on my joints and mobility.   My brain-spasms are a little less intense, but I'm still heart-hurting on a daily basis.   I've taken a few positive steps in making headway to change these things, and I'll be taking more - but at the moment, I'm just focusing on being able to BREATHE.

I don't know a great deal about anxiety and depression - or their linkages - but I've heard it said before that untreated anxiety can lead into depression.  Given my history, and my predisposition to depressiony-symptoms, it's little wonder that I've spiraled backwards the way I have.   My anxiety post-surgery was INTENSE - huge - scary - freaking frustrating!!!   I thought I had it nipped in the bud when I was able to start exercising again / go shopping without passing out because my chest felt like it'd cave in under the pressure of 'freaking out' about it... but I was SO very wrong.

This entire year has been about trying to deal with the surgical misfire - of having a body that was far less than 'perfect' than the bullshit spiels I'd been lead to believe it would create for me.  My pain just festered and grew every time I was rejected (having put myself out there - I want to be loved too!!) - and my self-doubt went off like New Years Eve fire crackers.   I just wanted to be able to be ME and be accepted, and it just didn't seem to happen.   But the trouble is - and I fully acknowledge this - until I can learn to self-accept, I'm going to fight the same battle every damned time...

My growing self-loathing and the doubt kicked well into overdrive during winter - my SADs were going off.  I knew what was happening, but trying to fight through seemed almost futile - it just knocked me like nothing else this year.  More so than the last few.  I just hurt.  Every damned inch of me just hurt.  I just wanted to crawl into a bawl and stay there, indefinitely.    ... and even now, some days I still do.

...but I'm trying to fight through.  When Spring hit, I was ecstatic - surely that meant the end of the winter blues - and I was pretty certain things would just start snapping back into place and I'd hit the ground running, at some point, again.    ... but I underestimated the damage.  The kilos gained I can live with - I take full responsibility for that.  Hell, I even ENJOYED being able to eat whatever I wanted, and holy shit, did I... !!!!     I KNEW there'd come a time when I was going to pull myself up on that behaviour (again) and even now that things are more under control, I don't doubt I'll fall back into the food-trap just because THAT is not the issue I'm fighting here.   It's just a sidetrack!

What's hurting me is the lack of self acceptance - the hatred of the external - the misfired and misinterpreted worth.  I've let myself disbelieve that I'm worth the effort - and I've let myself fall into the trap of drowning my sorrows with food and hiding away into solitude.

At one point I found myself talking nasty smack staring at myself at the mirror - not a word escaped my lips, but the inner monologue was on fire.  Hateful, vengeful, nasty, bullshit - that for 99% of it I don't even believe!!!    ... So WHY was I doing that?!  I'd NEVER do or say those things to someone else... why why why did I think it was ok to talk to myself like that?!   Why do I STILL do that... ?

I was back to loathing my own reflection - and it really had NOTHING to do with the weight gain!  That was the easiest excuse in the book!!  


I went on a secret mission a couple of months ago, with a couple of my friends - thinking sticking myself back on a program would be the catalyst for changing it up again.  BEEP, WRONG!   I know better... but I was desperate, and WAY too exhausted... !!     Absolutely ZERO weightloss - down a couple - back up a couple (rinse and repeat!!)  - but it started putting a little structure back into play.   Note: a LITTLE.  I'm rebelling against this like a mofo!!!


I've been working with other outlets to help turn things around - including new counseling sessions (and if you know me, you know this is not something I've done easily... ).   It's still very new, and I don't know how I feel about it yet - I still put on my 'happy face' when I go in, but it's making me think, and whilst my notorious over-thinking has caused so much issue in the past, this 'thinking' is strategic and a little different.

Yes, the weather change has made a big impact already - the sunshine plays a HUGE factor in my moods!  HUUUUUGE!  This year has been testament to that.  Sunshiney one day = ok!  Rainy the next = look away, look away, look awayyyyy!!!    .. but I'm seeing patterns now, being self-aware, understanding what THIS BODY needs, how it operates, what it works with.

I think that's a win... !  It hasn't always felt like it - but I've never really been this size - I don't know what this body needs or wants?!!  I'm learning.. !


In an attempt to help me overcome my mirror demons - and perhaps shoot the self-hatred of my current size in the foot - a friend of mine took some photos for me.  Given my penchant this year to avoid the camera (like times of old where I avoided cameras like the plague!) - this one became a sticking zone.  I didn't 'want' photos of me right now - not in "this state" - not out of my control!   Hell, I can take a gazzillion selfies and delete nearly a gazzillion shit ones before I'll broadcast the 'acceptable' Amy version...  but give someone ELSE that control?!   Are you serious?!!

.. but I had to let this go.  I had to stand up and fight back.  Stop the self-destructive hatred that's been tormenting me for months - isolating me - ruining me!  I had to stop believing I was so physically unattractive that noone wants me (cuz that's what rejection seems to teach me?!) - and actually break free of what's happened to my body!

Incidentally, let me just jump on a slight tangent right here.  Despite the gain (which makes my clothes tight and my skin uncomfortable) - my surgery malfunction isn't the end of the world.  I know that!  Some days I'll just stand there looking in the mirror at my lumpy leftover belly and be ok - some days I get really sad - some days I'm really proud of that scar that runs from deep one side of my hips to the other.  Some days I loathe what I did - some days I take a deep breath and just accept it as a decision.  Nothing more, nothing less.    My counsellor is trying to help me break away from the self-destructive "you caused your own issues - you did this - it's all your fault Amy!" thinking - and some days I can accept it for just what it is.  Just a tummy, just my body.  Those are GOOD days, but they're rare.


ANYWAY!!  Back to my story...   My friend wanted to take some photos for her portfolio - and I offered my face up to the challenge.   I was quietly shitting myself - I didn't really feel photos would do me any favours at the moment... !!   But I wanted to help her out - she's been such a light for me this year when things have been so rough, and I just wanted to repay her kindness a little.  Uncomfortable in my own skin or not!   Double bonus was if I had a nice photo or two in the process - something I could hang onto that helped rebuild a little of my self esteem.

... but she did more than that.  We had fun!   I turned "professional" and switched into a mode that even let me get changed in the middle of a carpark (all my wobbly bits hanging out for the world to see!).   I am NOT a public body poser by any means - my skin stays WELL HIDDEN - but I'd switched on and that was that.

We shot at the back of a shopping centre - we shot down at the park - we shot near a road.  I could feel people watching - and I felt like a dick and wanted to hide - but this was my opportunity to stand up and do something about my negativity and hatred - and really, I didn't want to let her down.

As fun as the shoot was - I had a mental implosion thereafter.  I sat on my floor and gorged myself with unspeakable things like an entire tub of ice cream (!!) and panicked that I was just totally fooling myself that I was 'ok' in this skin.  I wasn't the girl I was 12 months ago before the surgery (super fit, healthy, determined, knew her shit and knew what she wanted!).    Just a totally broken girl with a bruised soul who got lost somewhere...   So I ate my emotions away, cried my hundred cries, wiped the wad of smudged mascara off my face, and hid my pain away, just like the professional pain-hiderer I am!!

And then I saw the photos...


Not only is she a talented photographer - that goes without saying - but what I saw in those shots was something more than just a photo.   When I reluctantly posted a couple of the initial ones in one of my support groups as a "I stood up and took action today" thing, the reactions were really positive.  It wasn't all about the 'fluff' of how I looked - but what meant more to me was the commentary about how expressive my eyes are, how they tell a story.

That's what's meaningful for me.  My eyes DO tell a story - bulk of it is hidden inside and yearns to have someone here to tell it to.  I hurt every day, but part of me fights to free myself from that every day too.  Where I believe there's fear, I could actually see strength.  Where I believed my physical appearance was laughing at my lack of control and resilience - I could actually see change and adaptation.   It wasn't my body on show here - it was my heart and soul.  Portraiture that made me seen somewhat 'unreal' - perhaps even a little glorified?!  Egotistical - not at all.  I could still read my pain on my face - I could empathise with her, but it wasn't painful sympathy at play here.  It was a 'you've got this girl - just be brave, just believe'.

I don't know if I can really explain it.  I've sat on these images for a week mulling it over.  The one below is my absolute favourite - it doesn't "look like me" (and yet it is) - but there's something incredibly magic about it.  I don't know if it's because I WANT to be that girl - though I am her - or that's what I aspire to shine every day (when there's days I just feel black and weak).   I just know that I connected with 'her' and she's helping me heal right now.

Completely out of my control and comfort zone again - getting uncomfortable because I know there's no point staying here where I hurt so much.  I deserve better than that - and my babysteps are starting to pay off... 

Mantra:  it's got NOTHING to do with how I look, and EVERYTHING to do with WHO. I. AM.

THIS is who I am...

 

Dear brain: as much as I know you're there to help me reflect and keep me on my toes - please let my body be released from the shackles we're wearing, and let me start believing...  I know we'll all be ok if we just start working together.   <3  Me.

Permission to be proud

I don't really know where the last twelve months has gone - it's mid October, and I'm currently in preparation for my "next chapter" - I feel like I'm holding my breath in anticipation of what this means or what happens next, but it's meant that I've been 'reevaluating' what's happened in the past year that's lead me to this point.

My surgery is only a few weeks away - and yesterday I pushed myself to go and do my mandatory 'bloods' (so they have something to compare against later, and check that I'm healthy etc) and then filled out the hospital form and emailed it in late last night. I've had to do these since late August, just wasn't quite ready….   Booking this in officially was my next major step to making this a reality, and it's taken me a good few weeks to get it together enough to do it.

Prior to talking to the Surgeon I questioned whether I deserved the help, whether I was just opting-in for an "easy way out", and I was petrified that surgery wouldn't give me the answers or results that I need. As it turned out, it'd been nearly twelve months since I'd seen him last, and my weight hadn't changed - but so much else had, and with so many beautiful new things in my life, they were being undermined by the sheer hatred I have for the body I've been left with. Unfortunately.  The skin had contributed to so many negatives, that it was pulling me backwards… the strategy, then, became surgery to help me push forward. 


The last twelve months has proven to be my hardest year yet - and it makes my head spin at the thought of what's happened in such a short space of time. In terms of weightless: nada, zilch, nothing - I've just gone up and down, backwards and forwards in the same 10kilos bracket. Over winter, I stacked the weight on found myself quickly heading back up to the 110kgs mark - but have pulled that all back off since, and turned my physical fitness around 150%.  In terms of 'life' - well it's thrown me around like never before - but I won't say it's without merit. I've had some beautiful experiences, I've had some hurtful moments - there's been tears and tantrums… and yet I'm still here, I'm still moving.

Yet I found myself the last few weeks still unable to find solace in the positives of this - even after pulling my stubborn head in, asking for help, and turning things around - I still couldn't find my pride. Somewhere along the line, I'd stopped being proud - shunned myself for the things I'd achieved - I let people take it away from me with their comments and criticisms - I'd lost the energy to contend with it all. I was embarrassed to talk about my achievements, I stopped taking photos, I stopped writing and sharing, helping and being happy, I started hiding again. I let the negatives win, and I lost my pride….



Mid this year I had a major breakdown - it wasn't pretty and it did its damage - but it taught me a lesson too (as things always tend to!).  When I sought help from my Naturopath recently for my emotional imbalances - driven in there by my sheer fear that I was reverting to the old depression days - she had me fill our three hefty questionnaires to judge what was happening, and figure out what impact it was having on my body. The month prior to this I'd been working with my Kinesiologist, who'd basically already told me my body was buggered because of my emotions - they were working against one another, feeding off each other in a negative way. I was going in circles and there wasn't much I could do about it!  But that was the whole point in seeking their help - I can't physically SEE what's happening to my insides, and I needed their help and guidance.  I knew my emotions were shot, but something wasn't right since the breakdown, and it went further than just what was going on in my head!  My body was breaking down, I could just feel it.

My Naturo put me on some tablets for anxiety - she said she wasn't surprised I was as highly strung as I have been the past year, considering how depleted I am emotionally and physically with all the changes the past five years, and the decade prior to that…  She's worked with me in the past - helped turn around a few of my weird ailments (my superior stress levels when I quit my job; my toxicity a couple years ago from the weightloss. She's helped me before, and I went straight in to have her help again).  The Kinesiologist's "magic potion" had been working on helping my organs with the stress and get me functioning properly, internally, again - the Naturo's tablets and mix were to calm my head.  I felt the difference the next day…. !


The last few weeks have been a MASSIVE turn around. I no longer feel like I'm walking on eggshells, and I feel like I can breathe. I forced myself to seek help (I'm a stubborn Taurean, I don't ask for help unless I have to!) - but I bit the bullet, and asked… and I'm so very proud of myself for doing that.

Enter the transition phase of "finding my pride".  As I move into this next chapter - my surgery phase - I knew straight out that this was going to be one of the hardest things for me to do.  Hell, just booking the appointment was a task in itself - and it all boils down to the emotions and my headspace.  Since I booked, I simply haven't looked back.  Yes, I've stalled a couple of times, I've had a cry, I've questioned and had to take a few deep breaths… but I haven't looked back.

So much has happened - POSITIVELY - in the past month, that I'm walking with my head held high again. My training is spot on - I issued myself a "50 days of fitness" challenge to keep myself honest and on track - and 25 days in, I've been working hard at it ever since and already see the physical difference, hit new monster PBs and I haven't even hit my stride yet!

My food intake has been better - now that I'm not EATING my emotions every day (the curse of being an emotional overeater - happy, sad, scared, bored… you name it - I'll eat my emotions… Emotional imbalance = food festival, and is seriously BAD for results!!). I won't say I get a gold star on the food just yet, but there's far more control here than there's been for MONTHS, and I'm a little proud of myself for that. I'll need that control when I'm in recovery-mode and can't train the way I usually do - so it's very much on my agenda at the moment to get a handle on it all

And as for my head….  ahhhh, all good things come to those who wait - or more importantly, those who diligently work on it!  I'm in a MUCH happier, healthier place than I've been for a while - it's meant that I've poked my head out of isolation and I'm "revisiting" the things that used to make me happy - instilled a sense of pride in what I was doing.  Little things - like writing this blog (!), taking photos (god help you all, I'm back to all the "selfies" again… haha!) - finding and booking in new activities to plan my year ahead, and happily thinking 'futuristically'.


My health and fitness are BEAUTIFUL right now - that is my ultimate goal pre-surgery - to be at my fittest and healthiest….  but that was to include my mental state too - and that has a strategy aswell. I certainly haven't gone into this without a plan, and I'm PROUD of myself for doing it this way - for stepping up and asking for help and following through with it.

I have no doubt that the next few weeks ahead are going to be a little rough, and I have those butterflies in the pit of my stomach starting to jiggle around at the prospect of the last countdowns…. but I'm gearing up now for the next chapter, and what it means. 

I feel like I have a world of expectations on this surgery - subconsciously holding out for everything "beautiful" to just magically happen after this bit of skin is gone… but the realist in me says I need to stop dreaming like that.  I've put so much on hold in the past based on me still feeling "freaky" in this left-over body, and it's done nothing but burn me for the past year.  It hurts, and bulk of that lies on ME and my response to it.  I need to take some responsibility for letting that turn negative…

My body isn't foul - it's wonderful. It's amazing what it overcomes - the torture I put it through (literally, I did a lap of Mount Panorama with 16kgs on my back on Sunday - my glutes are STILL giving me hell about it, haha!)… and yet all the crap I've put into my system, all the neglect, the torment…. it's still fighting with me. 


That's my goal now - to stop putting pressure on my body and love it "just as it is" - because when I part ways with this belly skin in December, I'll be saying goodbye to something that's been with me for 33 years.  I'm nostalgic and melodramatic at the best of times (haha!) - but it's true.  I shouldn't be wishing this away, I should be celebrating what it's meant to me, what it's done for me, who it's made me…  I need to convert the negative stigma into something beautiful, NOW, before it's gone.  I need to be PROUD of my skin, and I need to have pride enough to say goodbye, and say thank you with a smile on my face. 

That's my goal in the next few weeks…. transition back into being PROUD.  Proud of who I am, of what I've overcome, of the things I've achieved, of where I'm going.  I give myself permission to be proud… and I bloody well better start believing it.  The clock's ticking… !

She's back!!! ... or is she.... ?!

Feel like I should be sneaking in here on tip-toes - there's an eerie silence and a long overdue "HELLO!" from me on my poor little blog... and part of me (almost) wants to apologise for being so distant and neglectful!

However, such is the way of life, that despite my last post being back in February - so much AND so little has happened in the last (nearly) six months, that it makes my little head bobble around, and I don't quite know where to start!

I find it somewhat ironic (for lack of a better word) that the last post was all about "Finding Amy".  Well, let me tell you right now that I felt I lost her entirely, gave up looking, got the shits and chucked a wobbly (repeatedly)... but amidst all that, I engaged in this funny thing called "life" that I could never have imagined was going to unfold back in February...   Simply didn't see it coming.


In the last few months I've been on an absolute ROLLERCOASTER ride of emotions. There's been times when I wanted to scream from the top of my beloved Mount Panorama that the world was beautiful, that everything in it was a dream, and I thought it couldn't get any better...  And then there were times when I felt like I was in absolute limbo, so broken inside I couldn't breathe.

I liked the first one better... !!!


The last few months have seen me unearth a whole new wad of "life experiences" - well outside my comfort zone and almost verging on 'normality' (if there is such a thing for me?! haha).  Not to overload you with details, but there's been affairs of the heart, failing bodies, holidays and meltdowns - many tears and much 'thought provoking' self-discoveries and growth.

If anyone were to tell me back in February that I was about to be hit with such massive mental and emotional upheaval as I've been through the last few months, I'd have probably laughed at them and questioned the authenticity of their statement!  I might not have been at my mental "fighting fittest" but I certainly didn't think I was anything below 'solid' either.

It was nothing short of a rude awakening, then, when I went from being up on my absolute highest of highs - living on love and happiness, understanding and finally feeling like I wasn't alone anymore - to trying "something I'd never done before" in the form of a counseling session that pulled me, not gently, back to reality that maybe I wasn't quite as 'ok' as I thought I was about everything.


I should explain...  A few months ago, I went off on holidays to Gwinganna - a special health retreat in QLD.  The holiday I won from the Woman's Day magazine competition.  I was all geared up to enjoy this new experience that I'd have never been game enough to do before, but I was "the new Amy" and it was my 'reward' for all the hard work... right?!   As part of the package, I was given the opportunity to do a special activity - and talking to the staff on arrival about my goals and what I'd already achieved and the frustration I was having in my body and head (being so disjointed) - it was suggested that I do a counseling session with one of the therapists at the retreat.  I baulked at the idea - I've never been overly confident with counseling, but I'd had people telling me I 'may' benefit from the help, and felt it may have been the right time to work on the inner workings of my messy head.  Gulp.

I had no idea what to expect, and went in there with an open mind.  The therapist was lovely, and really easy to talk to - and I just chatted and laughed with her, talking about myself and what I'd done, how different I was, how weird it was in this new body, some of the struggles, some of the icky dark past... Odds and sods - but the general consensus was happy and good!  But she broke me... I was doing my usual "just smile, nod and pretend it's all ok" thing - and I guess that's her job, to break through the barriers and really get to the issue.


Some 'regression therapy' and I was in visualisation mode with my old 6 year old self - back to primary school, the first day I was belittled in class. It's always been in my head - always as clear as day - and the emotions and raw nerves that it produced all those years ago came up right then and there, as easy as clicking your fingers.  It hurt, but she had me revisiting this for a reason - the bullying and shame that I've felt my entire life started right there. The self-hatred of my body and always feeling "different" came from these things. She was pointing out that the context of the situation had grown disproportionately over time - that simple little turn of events had grown so distorted in my head that it was impeding who I am today (or more importantly, who I'm trying to be as this 'new me'...)

She had me visualise my current self walking into the classroom to comfort the young Amy, hug her, show her compassion and tell her it'd be ok, not to let the words and feelings upset her anymore, that she was ok just as she was, there was nothing wrong with her. She had me tell her how her life would unfold - what would happen.  She had me tell her who I am today, the kind of person I am now, despite all the obstacles and upsets, and give her hope for the beautiful future she'd be working so hard to achieve.

All these things were so intensely graphic in my head, that all I could do was cry... and cry... and cry.  I could barely mumble words to express what I was saying to "myself" in my head.  She prompted me with descriptions like "you are caring", "compassionate", "giving", "proactive", "happy", "friendly" and "loved".. and the pain in my heart at each new word hurt me more and more, I could barely breathe.  It wasn't that I was trying to convince my young self that this was who I'd grow up to be - I was trying to convince ME - the present me - that this is WHO I ACTUALLY AM. All the beautiful attributes that someone who'd just met me half an hour previously could see, that I was so blind to.  That hurt more than anything - the realisation that I couldn't even appreciate me for being me.

I left there numb, but 'ok' - so much going through my head, and yet somewhat comforted by the fact that I'd "somehow" helped that little girl, given her a piece of my courage that I knew she'd need.  But it wasn't to end there...

I left Gwinganna with a smile on my face - it was an amazing experience overall. The way of life there had really opened my eyes - pushing for healthy mind and body (not just pushing for weightloss and training like a freak of nature the way I'd brutalised myself with the past year, and seeing no results for it!) - was such an eye opener. It fostered a new sense of "self love" and awakened me to how amazing a more nurturing side of good health can be!

But when I returned to Sydney, I was hit by a world of pain. I lost the plot entirely. Pure and utter emotional exhaustion - in fits of tears and not understanding WHY I was as upset as I was. Not being able to verbalise what was running rampant in my head, my heart was aching and I had absolutely no idea what was happening... I really did think I'd lost the plot, that something had snapped inside my (sometimes fragile) brain. I'd never experienced anything like it before. I could barely breathe, I was just so confused. I wasn't hurt from dragging up the past and I was ok with "working on things" for Amy again... so what the hell was happening to me?!! 

I went home a broken woman - a brilliant meltdown at my disposal, and nearly destroying my relationship in the process - I was supposed to be coming home from holidays with a smile on my face!!  Instead, I came home to what felt like an alien home - like I didn't belong. My "safe zone" was shallow and cold, it felt wrong to be here. I didn't belong here, I didn't belong anywhere.  What the hell was wrong with me??!!!

I spent the following fortnight in and out of emotional limbo - I haven't cried that painfully in years (it was so reminiscent of the bad days, I was petrified I'd gone back to that...). I was at the point of pleading with myself to wake up to myself, get on with it and grow the hell up - but the confusion, the hardcore emotional onslaught, the financial issues I came home to, the stress and the anxiety... everything fell to pieces at once, and I was left in a screaming mess. My head finally gave out as much as my body had... It really had been only a matter of time.


.... Fast forward a few months later, and I'm happy to report that things are in a MUCH better place now, and I'm much 'healthier' overall.  Unfortunately, the meltdown left some damage in its wake - an 8 kilo gain, I stopped training and 'gave up', winter cravings hit hard and I ate myself into food comas repeatedly. My joints packed it in over winter - I've never had so much pain in my knees as I've had this year, and I wasn't even training!  I was a broken woman... I distanced myself from here, my Facebook page, my local network and even my closest friends.  I shut down from everyone, I neglected looking after myself, and I lamented being a "failure" and went into a self-pity spiral.

Necessity demanded I get up out of my funk and I found work (being self employed, I had no choice but to seek a new job) - I couldn't even afford cat food, and that was the end of the line for me!  If I couldn't look after my fluffy boy, then that was NOT ok!  A few weeks ago I started my new role with an existing client, and continued part-time work with another - which not only helped me get my structure back, but it forced me out of the house to socialise and deal with people (the easiest thing in the world for me is to shut down, turn off, go mute...) - and put 'scheduling' back into play. It gave me a project to focus on, be proud of and allowed me the flexibility that having an income affords (albeit a small one, but small is better than none!!).  I could breathe again...


Last week I went back to the gym - four months I'd been out of solid training.  A few hits and misses along the way, but four months...  I'm nothing short of disappointed in how de-conditioned I've become. The self-abuse I put myself through - emotional and food based - and how quickly that weight came back on, and how relentless it was on my head - the mental torture is extreme! The hatred for giving up, the remorse, the "see Amy, you ARE a failure!"... oh my god, it was just unforgiving!

Last week I signed up for the 12wbt again - to force structure and goals back onto my agenda.  I'm no longer the girl at 200kgs (she's well and truly gone) - I'm the girl at 100kgs - and irrespective of what's been and gone, the last 18 months have proven to be the hardest by far.  Complacency and exhaustion - they've been my two biggest wakeup calls, that I'd very much neglected areas of my transformation OFF the scales. My breakdown was testament to that - my mental health and the self-talk that I've been berating myself with for months are NOT healthy - and yet that's exactly what I aspire to be, and why I've put in so much work the past 4 1/2 years!   HEALTHY is my ultimate goal - in both mind and body - and yet I'm not living and loving that in the capacity it deserves - that *I* deserve.


I'm finally starting to reign it all back in, and things are starting to make sense.  I don't know if it's a little strange to say... but back in February when I was so hellbent on "Finding Amy" - I simply wasn't ready. I was naive and frugal with my emotions.  It's only now that I'm starting to feel that strength again - feeling and noticing the differences that have come from the past few months - that I can appreciate the transition more.  I simply didn't understand back in February - the life experiences weren't there - the heart break and triumphs weren't there....  You can't value something you haven't achieved yet - but I'm not ready to pat myself on the back quite yet either!!

I know I still have so much work to do to counteract the damage - and I'm slowly... slowly... stepping up and clicking it back into gear.  There's this crazy inner strength I can't even begin to explain, that is pumping in my veins right now - and it doesn't care about what I've done previously or what I've already had to overcome. It's focused on where I am right now - the PRESENT Amy - and the value she has "just as she is, right now."


Maybe, then, I've been going about it all wrong - maybe I didn't need to "Find Amy" at all...  If the last few months of personal growth are anything to go by, there's elements of losing the old and gaining the new that hold intrinsic value.  A feeble "treasure hunt" for something I 'thought' I should have didn't yield results - but the emotional, dirty, gritty, heartfelt up-and-down reality did.

SO with that, I'm not going to summarise up this next chapter with a happy ending (the way I always seem to do, haha)...  I'm still a work in progress, and I'm quite ok with that, for now!  For the first time in a long time I'm excited about the hard work coming up (I say that after a big deep breath), and quite frankly, what will be will be.  Regardless of what happens next, I choose to be proactively happy...  I just need to remember that!

xx  :)

Finding that "Old Amy Mojo"

Well it's Monday, and it's officially the start of Week Four of the 1 Million Kilo Challenge, and Week Two of the 12WBT. Sitting here quite deflated this morning, and I'm a little bit upset about it - the scales and I are at loggerheads. I'm quite a pro at riding the up and downs of weightloss - 4 years of this torture, and the head games that go with letting one ridiculous number dictate your mood - I KNOW better... but today it just feels a little too hard...

Last week was one of my most amazing weeks in this new transition phase of "Finding Amy" - I literally started the week in tears. Valentine's Day. Yeah, need I say more?!   If you read my post from Valentine's Day last year (and quite frankly, I'm not prepared to read it again...), well, it's pretty much the same - just another year later.  THAT is what hurts the most - the void in my life right there hurts every day, but this one day of the year, it's just overly exaggerated, overly intense. It's just everywhere - knew it was coming (no shortage of crap commercialisation everywhere you'd turn!) - so was gearing myself up the few days before it to make sure I could "handle it, without too much issue".

Big FAIL. Woke up, had a text message to say "hope you're ok" - lost it entirely, had my cry, went back to sleep. Woke up, tried again, failed, had another cry, dragged my sorry arse out of bed and had a shower, had another cry...  UGH! Rinse and repeat?!

Anyhoos, needless to say, my day pretty much flat-lined emotionally. I don't care so much about flowers or chocolates - hell, you can buy nice flowers at Aldi for $5 - that's what I did last year!!  No, it's more about losing another year to 'solitude' - I vowed to myself last year that I wouldn't go through this again, that I wouldn't feel this upset or broken. When I woke up and realised I was right back there again, I was just plain hurt that I'd done it to myself... again! It's SO easy for me to shy away from people - it's a trait I've had from childhood - if you hide, you can get hurt, right?!  Wrong...

I was so highly strung by Tuesday afternoon, I sat here about ready to tear my hair out, berating myself for being worthless and causing my own issues; hating my body because THAT must be the reason why I'm so lonely (!!! - don't say a word...); and cranky at my world - again. I sat here at my desk, and watched the clock roll by, closer and closer to my scheduled RPM gym class - I'd even put my shoes and HRM on ready to go, trying to fight the emotions - but the tears were too strong, and I just sat here and cried again, wanted to scream, then let out a loud (sorry neighbours!) "Fu#k you gym!" and flat out refused to go because "it's not helping me anyway"... right?!

Wrong. I instantly stood up, grabbed my keys and towel and walked out the front door to the gym before I had a chance to even slightly think about it again - I was that upset already, there was NO point in the guilt-trip that was already brewing in my head, and the next set of tears that were like a swollen river about to burst through at any second...

Worst RPM performance EVER - but I went. I couldn't look at anyone, I couldn't really talk. I was churning so bad inside, I wanted to vomit. I couldn't breathe, my chest and eyes were stinging. I hated every minute of it - and not because it was exercise (I LOVE LOVE LOVE my RPM classes usually) but because I hated everything in my world, and the 'hate' was winning...  I hate THAT more than anything else, that's the "old Amy"s headspace, and I was shattered that it was so strong.

I walked home post-RPM mellow, but ok. The 'hurt' part was in decline - the day was nearly over - but the anger was starting to rise up instead. Yep, I'd let this one stupid day ruin what should have been another "new day" in my "here and now". By the time I made it home, I'm sure I was growing frown lines the size of canyons, and it was brewing really bad in the pit of my stomach.

A phone call later that night from a concerned friend - lots of tears and a tantrum later - just being able to verbalise why I was hurting so much (which is VERY hard for me to do - I usually talk through my fingers), and not because of the lonely factor, but because of my self-hatred for my body, the hatred I have for what I've done to my life (etc etc - I can't really pinpoint all the reasons) - with someone who understands WHY I feel this way about myself, without questioning, or berating me for being "silly" - was enough to calm me down, and let me breathe again...

I'm a pretty emotional person anyway - clearly - but when you're fighting past demons, fighting for a life you never even wanted, fighting against things you can't necessarily change... it's exhausting! There's no right or wrong answer to weightloss - but it's NEVER been just about losing kilos for me. It's about finding who I'm supposed to be, and making ME believe that I have a reason to still be here. You get to a point where you're so overloaded with emotions and internal conflict - where, in the past, I'd have just let it consume me - I can't let it do that now, but by god, it puts me through hell trying to fight through it.

... but I do. And I know I'm capable of that.  The last few years of breakdowns and breakthroughs have taught me that. As upset and hurt as I am "at the time", there's always reason behind it - and it always drives me to push further and try harder - so that I'll appreciate these beautiful things I'm missing, when they DO come into my life. I can't take them for granted, because I've had to work my arse off to have them in the first place... so I fight for them.


Woke up on Wednesday with an entirely new chapter at my disposal.... like the day of turmoil beforehand had come and gone like a bad storm - but the rain had washed my "space" clean again. I was back on track, eating well and went off to my scheduled Aqua class that night in a really calm, happy place. Did my class, with additional laps thereafter, and left recommitted and focused.

The rest of the week just grew from there - like something had clicked back into place, and I'd found a little spark of the "old Amy mojo" that used to be there!

Thursday I hit the gym for my RPM class (no tears this time!), then, as a total first (as RPM usually smashes me!) hit the treadmill for intervals thereafter - 25mins of fast walk/jogs and I even hit my highest ever 11kms/hr sprints! I was SO excited by that - I wasn't just jogging, I was RUNNING on that crazy treadmill, like a skinny person!!! I bounced home, and wasn't done yet! Walked through my front door, then right out the back door and jumped on the cross trainer for another 10mins, just because I could - and maxed out my calorie burn for the day over 1000!  I was ECSTATIC!!  It's the first time I've had the energy or inclination to hit a huge session like that in over 10 months - not since I burnt myself out with the Commando Challenge have I been able to do it since...  I felt AMAZING!

Woke up Friday morning on a total high - hit the gym by 9am for two brand new classes (I'd issued myself the challenge the night before - do I dare try new classes?!  HELL YEAH!!) - and tried the new Core Challenge class, and a Lite Pace aerobics class thereafter. Feeling SO good over the course of the day, I ended up running out the door in the afternoon for ANOTHER session - two laps of my river (about 5.5kms) - and nearly hit another 1000cals day for the effort!

In between all the training sessions, I was pumping out awesome food from the kitchen too - with the 1MKC really re-inspiring me to hit the cooking; and hitting all my client jobs in the middle - I was well and truly on a roll!  My week had TOTALLY turned itself around - and I was just riding the wave of sheer liberation, and LOTS of emotional relief!

Saturday was no different - I was on an absolute MISSION!  It takes A LOT for me to hit those 1000cals burn sessions these days - but I had the fire in my belly and had conquered a few pretty big demons over the course of the week.

Decided in my "infinite wisdom" that I should issue myself another personal challenge - and hit a "triple threat" sweat session on Saturday with a little gung-ho feisty passion I haven't seen come out in Amy in a really, really long time!!

I hit my Pump class (with my maximum weights on all areas) - followed by my new Body Balance class (that I'd only tried for the first time the week before!) - followed by a lap of Mount Panorama!!

Hitting the Mount, quarter of the way around, the rain drops start hitting me in the face... By the time I'd climbed to the top, it was pouring - but I had the biggest bloody smile on my face as I hit a jog across the top - the raindrops pelting me (mercilessly) in the eyes!!  On the decline, I took up my usual jog (albeit a little slower, given the slippery factor) and jogged the length of the decline, racing the water running down the edges of the track - rain streaming down my face, my shoes were totally drenched, my music player died, I couldn't see through the rain - it was the most AMAZING FEELING and I was absolutely loving it!!!   Funnily enough, I wasn't the only idiot out there at the time (haha) and the guy on the other side of the track who jogged the length of it parallel to me, I raced him down to the finish!  I STILL managed my course in my lowest ever PB time, despite the heavy waterlogged joggers squishing under my feet!!!  It was just plain AWESOME!

Three hours later, over 1000cals burnt - drenched to the absolute core... I felt ALIVE!  THIS has got to be what living is all about, right?!    I was LOVING it - and by god, I want MORE!!!


Sunday rolled around, and I'm off on - yet another - new challenge!  More "new" to add to my repertoire - Dragon Boating!  After such an intense training week, my poor little stiff and sore body "should" have been in Sunday rest mode - but I'd said yes to going out there with a couple of my local 12wbt ladies - and (as per my self-imposed declaration that I should stop hiding away from the world and opportunities - courtesy of the start of the week's "I've lost another year" reflection and tears) - out to Chifley Dam I went!  An hour later, my shoulders were were telling me I'd done alot more work than what my piddly little "220cals burnt" reading said - and this morning, the bones in my butt are VERY much telling me that I'm not the size I used to be (not enough padding for wooden benches, hahaha!!).   As for Dragon Boating - LOVED IT - and very much looking forward to doing more of it!  That's my third time 'paddling' - and that kayak of mine (that was bought about a year ago now, and STILL hasn't seen water yet!!) - needs to stop resting against the wall - it's now on the "near future" agenda to launch that baby!


... As for my mood this morning. Well, I'm a little disappointed in myself.  After such an amazing week - fighting through the hurt and finding myself rejoicing for so much "new" and rejoicing in finding a taste of that "old Amy mojo" - I'm disappointed that I've let the scales overrule that this morning.

I see it ALL the time with others - myself included - where we let one stupid, absolutely meaningless number on a set of scales override all those beautiful feelings and "wins" - just because the numbers "don't comply".  I know all my work will probably show up - later - and clearly all that work I put in last week was more for the benefit of my SOUL rather than the freaking scales... I know this, I've got this!  I'm better than this bullshit...

SO - I'm giving myself the "SUCK IT UP" and "pull your head in" cards today. Back to focusing on really good food (and not overindulging - nor self-sabotaging... both of which crept in last week because of the emotions)  - and I'm issuing myself more challenges again this week, in light of how AMAZING I felt for it last week!

I have Pump and Body Balance again tonight - and already aligning the rest of my week to look similar to what I pulled last week - and I'm stepping out of my comfort zone again by the weekend, with a social night out with my local 12wbt girls (many of which I haven't met before - that's always really really hard for me... I'm still very shy, still very reserved, still very insecure...).

No more pity-party for one over here - it ends the minute I click 'post' on this blog.  I want more of that amazing feeling I had last week - it's infectious - reconnecting with that "Old Amy Mojo" is my number one priority this week.  The scales can get stuffed!!

* * * * *

I found this pic this morning - when I was sitting here trying to fight the negatives... and I couldn't agree more, so wanted to share!  I CHOOSE TO BE HAPPY - because it DOES make me feel alive!!  That's what this is all about, after all!

Lost...

Wrote this one last week while I was away on holidays.....  It reads somewhat like a diary entry - I guess it literally was?!  Me sitting with a notepad (for lack of blog availability) and writing out my thoughts...

--------------------

You know it's a pretty sad state of affairs when you have that realisation that despite having nowhere to go, noone to see, nowhere to be... you actually realise just how truly lost you are underneath the daily grinds of jobs, schedules, deadlines, expectations... etc etc.

Having set out on yet another sweaty-adventure recently - my City 2 Sea 14kms in Melbourne - with my sister and "Super Twin" Lynda in tow, I was in a little denial about what this 'get out of town' card truly was.

For a few months I've been harbouring the start of "doubt" - filtering through the thought system like a cancer - threatening to undo my focus and unleash havoc - but I've held strong and stayed on track. My City 2 Sea challenge always my beacon ahead keeping me in check.

For weeks I'd been training up for the day - my fitness is at an all time high. I've been a regular gym-junkie; paraded myself multiple times over Mount Panorama, even brutalised the feet with two stints of a 10-12kgs backpack on my shoulders to make it harder / up the intensity and endurance. I even hit a double-lap of the Mountain before I left on my Melbourne trip a few days before, just to push it into my head how ready I really was.

By the time I made it to Melbourne, I WAS running on pure excitement. I left Bathurst in a hurry. Finalised a few jobs, put the others 'on hold' and ran out the door.

As addicted to these fun-runs as I am, it wasn't the only driving force behind fleeing my life...

I needed a break. From everything. A change of scenery, a change of pace, new sights, challenges, faces... the works.

And running off to do a 14kms fun-run was ample excuse enough! The City 2 Sea itself was FABULOUS!!   ... and I was super happy with my "1hr 57mins" time. I walked (albeit shuffled) away with my medal, a very happy girl.

... until a couple days later. After both my sister and Lynda left, I was left to my own devices.

... and it was then that I realised just how lost I truly was. Having finished the goal that had been my driving force for the past couple months, left me a little abandoned, quite winded.

No pressing client deadlines, no full-time internet access (which takes up SO much of my time usually - responding to emails and questions; looking after my FB page; keeping in contact with everyone)...  I had no commitments and my 'reason' for the trip was already complete!

I felt completely lost.

It rattled me. It's a really horrible feeling not knowing where you want to be - what you want to do. Feeling completely obsolete - it hurt to the core!!

I was given the keys to my Auntie's car and told I could basically come and go as I pleased. What a weird feeling to have - there with all the freedom in the world and I had no idea what to do with it!  (Ironic really, I'm self-employed, live on my own, no ties... I already DO have all the freedom in the world, and still feel 'obligated' elsewhere)...

I've never had that confidence or curiosity enough to jump in the car and "just go somewhere" - I'm a planner and things like that I've actually avoided from sheer lack of confidence in myself.

Butterflies in my tummy told me that I was questioning my ability to drive anywhere - yet the possibility of actually doing something new "just for me" was almost overwhelming!!

"Have GPS - will travel?!!"

Jumped in the car today and managed to find my way to my grandpa's house on my own (... a necessity!  After all, I had the dessert for lunch, haha!)

Jumping back in the car later, a trip around the Geelong CBD and beyond, and I was almost "cocky" driving around like I knew where I was going and had some reason to do it!!!

A walk around the local area on my own, and I was pretty chuffed! Not bad for the girl with no sense of direction, no confidence to do these things in 'unknown locations'....

Hitting the beach in swimmers and boardies... wearing a singlet to the supermarket... walking into the plaza and going clothes shopping, "just like a normal person"....  oh my god...  I can't even begin to explain how liberated I felt! It was empowering! My first ever holiday that I actually felt like I existed!!!    (... and how ironic that I was struggling with feeling so irrelevant...!!)



I came on my adventure knowing I'd left behind a wad of nagging questions about my future...  I knew "I wasn't quite right" but really hadn't taken the time to acknowledge it in its entirity.

Wasn't until I felt "completely lost" from my lack of pressing commitmets that I realised the lack of substance that all these commitments actually were hiding...

THIS was my universe telling me it's time to sort myself out. Get some structure and goals into place. Put into practice new adventures and challenges so I DO have "somewhere to go and a reason to get there" - my future.  The one I've been trying to believe in since I started my life transformation...

Without that, you're stagnant. Going nowhere, and having nothing to keep you moving ahead.

Big decisions on the horizon - do I uproot myself from the "comfortable security" of my everyday current life?  - go in search of the things I'm still missing??  Or do I step it up with what I already love in the place I feel most comfortable in and keep building on what I've done so far...

Time to ask the big questions. There's so much more to this huge life transition than just my weightloss...  It just feels so empty now.

I've opened the floodgates... must be time to get out there and make waves?!

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SO as it turned out, a couple days later I did a SECOND fun-run - Run Geelong, for 12kms - on my own... and absolutely loved every kilometre of it!   I completed this run in about 1hr 35mins and smashed out so many running intervals, I was absolutely STOKED!  It wasn't pre-planned, just heard about it while we were in town visiting the relatives, and had to do it - because that's now what I do!

The week off between events - and the break it gave my body - paid off.  I came home feeling reenergised and raring to go.  Taking a 'break' from reality was a strategic move - I needed OUT from my world for a while....Coming home after, I felt like I'd actually achieved that!

I'd "calmed" the soul and soothed the lingering questions - was all set to get myself back into my business, and put the weightloss "job" aside for a while. Give my body and head a break - and really teach myself how to LIKE the body I am in, appreciate it "as it is" and the person I've become...

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A little note to self I typed on my phone on the drive home...  

Learning to be 'normal'...  I just want to be normal.  I don't plan on being a SLAVE to this weightloss thing for the rest of my life... I see it in other people, the things they say and how they talk about themselves and their weight - and it verges on obsession. I don't want to be the person that's always fluffing on about the food I eat, what exercise I do - there's much more to AMY than what the scales say, what I weigh, how many calories I've eaten today, what size clothing label is sewn into my collar....

My little trip away has been great for me - made me realise how much I DON'T want to obsess like that for the rest of my life...  how much more "alive" I feel just being me!  So much wasted time and nonsensical whinging about something that will ALWAYS come and go. My body and I will be working on this for life - so be it - but I don't want to be a slave to it forever...  Driving me insane with the constant anxiety of what a set of scales says!! 

I want balance and flexibility.  I want to be healthy and fit.  I want to be STRONG.  I want to feel beautiful in my skin.  I want to be loved and to love myself.  I want to be ME - not an invalidated statistic... 

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I thought I'd found my sense of reasoning again...  but the Universe had other plans....


Am currently in an "emotional limbo" right about now...  my heart is broken.  Not yet ready to go into specifics on the public platform here - but I'm shattered with what's happened since I came home...

Just when you think you're 'ok' (and you've spent the better part of the entire week trying to learn how to do that...) - it doesn't take much to derail you again.

.. fighting the 'lost' feeling...   I know I'm far too stubborn to let it win, but by god it drains you....