Posted By: weavermom3 on

Monday, September 15th, 2008, 9:45 pm

What I hate about the way I look and how I feel at this weight. 

 I hate feeling tired after one trip up the stairs.

 I hate not being able to get down on the floor and play with my children, or run around and play tag, or teach my children to ride without training wheels.

 I hate not being able to sit in a normal booth at a restaraunt because the table digs into my ribs.

 I hate having stains on almost every single shirt because I have to lean over the table abnormally far to account for the chest and fat.

 I hate not being able to cross my arms normally or hang my arms at my side.

 I hate being embarassed and assuming that everyone is looking at me, though it is far more likely that everyone is looking THROUGH me.

 I hate being judged as fat first and a good mom, careful teacher second/third, whatever.  Judged by ME, not to mention what others may or may not think of me, it is far more damning that I condemn myself.

 I hate not wanting to go out because I tire so easily.

 I hate not being able to shop EVEN at the plus size stores in the mall.  I am resigned to internet and catalogs that cater to the extremely obese.

 I hate knowing that I climbed Mt. Rainier on my honeymoon.  That I had a dog sled team, ran in a couple 5 K races, was a top competitor in swimming in highschool, and have fallen so far from that place.

 I hate feeling out of control.  Carried along on a wave of apathy that I have tried and failed and tried and failed.  Knowing is easy, doing is hard.  I know quite a bit, but doing what I know to do is a far different matter altogether.

 I hate the  mixed message that I send to my 3 children.  Take care of your body, respect yourself enough to take pride in your appearance...... of course, do what I say, not what I do.

Tags: hope, despair

Posted By: blueskiz2 on

Sunday, August 24th, 2008, 8:10 am

I recently started talking to a young lady who just experienced the loss of a baby.  She was nearly 9 weeks along and while some people may not think that is very far, I believe it is.  The loss was very real to her and her husband.  They'd been trying to get pregnant for a year and a half.

 My heart goes out to her, I wish there was more I could do or say, but I know all too well how it is.  I experienced a number of losses myself, including one early miscarriage at about 6 weeks.  The one thing that sticks most in my mind is something my husband's aunt once told me.   A loss is a loss is a loss.

 My husband's aunt and uncle lost their eldest son in a car accident when he was nineteen.  Needless to say they had a really hard time getting over that.  And honestly, it is not something you ever really get over, but simply learn to deal with.  At least that is how I see it.  Anyway, at a loss group she was a part of, she was having a hard time with women who were there for their own needed support, women who had had a miscarriage.  And it wasn't until someone said that a loss is a loss is a loss, she finally got it.  Everyone's losses might be different than her own, but they are no less real and painful to those experiencing them.

I would have to agree there.  When I lost my second and third child later, the loss affected me differently and I was mad when people caulously said, "Well, maybe this is God's way of taking care of things...'  or "Maybe it's a blessing it happened now."  Are you kidding me?!  I often felt resentment for those who had lost an infant or child later on in life, people who sometimes viewed my loss as less than their own.  I was sooooo mad!  I wanted to scream at them, saying it wasn't fair, at least they had had time with their child.  They had had the chance to see their beautiful eyes open and looking up at them.  They had felt the unbelievable warmth of those tiny fingers wrapping around one of their own and squeezing.  They had the experiences of their baby's coos and babbles, seen what color hair they had, experienced first tooths and feedings and changings.  Seen their children grow.  They had birthdays and Halloweeens and Christmases and Easters and little league games.  All things I NEVER had the chance to experience with my child.  It was so unfair.

 But then you get back to a loss is a loss is a loss.  And just because someone's experience in losing a child is different than your own, it doesn't make it any less painful or real.  Having children now 4 and 9, I can't imagine what it would be like to lose one of them and yes while I have experienced all those things I missed with my other three angels, I am still in no way ready to give them up or stomach their loss any more easily than I would have before.  It is a different beast, but the pain is still the same.

 I feel very fortunate and blessed to be able to talk about my losses now.  But more than that, I am grateful for the chance to help someone else through their own grief, and if I can only just make one moment of one day a little better.  You have to take it one day at a time while you are in the midst of that darkness and heartbreak.  One step at a time.  One wobbly foot placed before the other.  But take comfort in knowing there can be hope and peace afterwards, but that really depends on you.

Losing my three has made me a better person in the end I think.  I truly appreciate all the love and support of friends and family in my life.  I live each day a little fuller (usually anyway) and I am so thankful for what I do have.  My husband and children are blessings to me, even those I've lost.  Through them I've been able to help and comfort others and for me, that is the greatest way to honor their memories.  If by having had my three, and lost them, I am able to better relate to others and most importantly give them some small measure of hope, it was worth it.  They are worth it.  My children and my experiences aren't something to be swept under a rug, no matter how pretty or expensive.  I wear the experience like a badge of honor, forever emblazoned upon my chest, upon my heart.

And if anyone out there reads this and needs to talk, please don't hesitate to let me know.  It's hard, it's painful, it sucks.  But at the end of the day, you can also find much to be thankful for, if you just allow yourself to look for it.

Tags: hope, mom, support, pregnancy, loss

Posted By: illinimomof2 on

Wednesday, June 11th, 2008, 2:38 pm

You would never believe that I am living this life.  We are both successfull college educated individuals and yet my husband can not kick the cocaine habit, even though he is in jeopardy of loosing his family.  I thought things were getting better and yet he used again and got himself kicked out of rehab and now thinks he can do it on his own. 

 I have a new born, and I am physically and emotionally worn out.  All I ever hear is that this is the last time, I love you and I don't want to loose you.  For me this is it.  Living on my own has got to be better than living like this.  Is there hope??  Does anyone out there have any suggestions on how to move on, to forgive and most importantly learn to trust?  Does trust ever really come back?

Tags: hope, mother, cocaine, wife, marriage

Posted By: i2amasurvivor on

Friday, March 7th, 2008, 8:08 pm

Hi,

I wrote a book called Faith, Love & Laughter, Surviving Cancer.  It's about my year long struggle with cancer, the treatment and all the other stuff that goes along with the diease.  It is scheduled for release around May.  My publisher (I did not pay to have the book published)  will do some press releases, etc., but I have to do some myself. 

I know I am looking for instant gratification - I want to sell at least 25,000 copies immediately - but realistically I know that won't happen.  I have a few options but I know the best is to get the word out. 

HELP ME, Please.  I can use all the ideas I can get!  

Thanks and I look forward to your input. 

Tags: health, hope, faith, author

Posted By: evp_m on

Monday, February 4th, 2008, 10:53 pm

Existing, what seems to me a rediculously long time without sleep, I have been too tired to fix myself up.  That said, my usual skirts and "cute shoes" that give me that extra boost of confidence were traded in for my comfy pants and flats.  I appeared a mish mosh of colors: pink blouse, black pants, brown shoes, light blue sweater, complete with green peticoat and matching green hat and scarf.  Though comfy and warm enough to keep trekking through the day I experienced a very noticable plummet in my confidence.  I think it important to mention that I have never been one to measure my self worth or esteem through material goods, yet the past years have left me a completely different person.  My weight gain, a total of 60 pounds, left me decidedly insecure with my body.  So it is through hiding my body and accentuating those fabulous shoes and accesories (purses, scarves, jewelry, hats, even gloves) that I have managed to elude depression.  In fact, the fear of deep seeded depression has motivated me to get myself to the gym, long enough, to drop 20 of the 60 pounds gained.  However, my recently hectic work has left me with little time and much less energy to even entertain the idea of stepping foot into the gym.  The result?...Fugliness!  I feel myself drawn to that all too familiar dark place, "the rut", with little hope of escape!

Tags: style, hope, women, humor, weight loss