Success

Day one is in the books.  I ate clean and logged all my food, AND went to a workout.

My fitness level is so far from what it used to be, and like my nutrition, I keep starting and stopping.  I'm tired of being winded at the top of stairs though.  This momma needs to get her strength back.

In other news, I had my follow up OB appointment- she's pushing a biopsy since she really is at a loss as to what the hell is going on with my nether region.  Took more cultures- hoping something pops up.  For now, a treatment for yeast, just in case, and a slightly less potent steroid. 

Logan seemed fine today after his head bang, but then when I went to put him to bed, he had dried blood in his left nostril.  I asked him about it and he said it happened while flying kites.  Mike agreed- but said it was not actually dripping from his nose, just inside.  Possibly he's been picking at it?  But of course, my anxiety, which had literally just dropped to a manageable level, spiked back up.  It always seems like something is happening to keep me on edge. 

Just a quick check in-

Losing

I don't know where to begin.  I decided last night that I needed to start journaling again- if for no other reason than to get the thoughts out of my head.

I have so much swirling through my brain, and I don't let it out anywhere.

Construction, money, adulting, parenting, anxiety, weight gain, jobs, opportunities, choices, success, PCOS, lichen sclerosus, the future in general, being present in the moment, being a good mom, not screwing up my kids, appreciating what I have, yearning for more, wondering who I am, worrying about screen time, plastic, terrorism, and at this exact moment, concussions.  Just to name a few that come to mind.

I catastrophize.  My sister in law pointed it out a few weeks back, and my new therapist agreed.  When anything happens, I automatically rush to the worst possible outcome.  It's scary.  It's lonely. 

I sat down to write about how I need to lose weight, and now here we are.  I'm out of practice when it comes to writing. 

In the past 6 years I have lost a ton of weight, gotten pregnant naturally, competed in 2 bikini competitions, ran Spartan races, and felt better about my body and self than I ever had.  I've also regained all of the weight (plus some) to the tune of 70 extra pounds, and beaten myself up over it for the last 2 years.  I know what to do.  I plan it out, I pump myself up, I buy the right food...and then I fall.  Time and time again.

I've spent some time wondering why.  The question is always why.  Am I afraid to succeed again?  Do I believe I really deserve to succeed?  What am I hiding from?  I get lost in the questions, they scare me- so I seek solace in something tasty, and we're back at square one.

I read an article recently that essentially said "Fuck Why".  You can figure out why as you go.  But for now, just do.  Not doing is a sickness.  It's an excuse.  It's a fear of failure.  I research, and read, and plan, and write lists, but I stop short at execution. 

So as of tomorrow, I begin "Project Execution".  I have a plan.  I will execute it, and I will succeed this time. 

1) I will NOT eat sugar for 12 weeks.
2) I will practice gratitude and intention by being still for at least 5 minutes a day
3) I will install an app and block Facebook except for the hours of 10am-12pm and 8-9pm
4) I will exercise three times a week

That is my plan.  Here goes nothing!