Just Call Me Fat: My Story

I’ve been battling depression and strong negative feelings and energy.

My four weeks of treatment, which involved daily trips to the hospital 40 miles from home every morning, 5 days a week, turned into seven weeks.

My last day was supposed to be Christmas Eve, which gave me a week between Christmas and New Years to start to reassemble my life. It also coincided nicely with a week off of work.

Unfortunately, I was told that I had to continue for the foreseeable future and instead of working to pick up the pieces of my life that week, I slid further into depression.

Two weeks ago, I got the news that daily treatment could be moved to my home. We’d talked very little about what this entailed, so imagine my surprise when I learned that it was 2-3 hours a day. And, it would be that way for the rest of my life.

It was a lot to absorb. Everyday? Forever? Did I have it in me to do this?

Struggling to adapt this to my already disrupted life has been a chore. It seems to amplify my faults and shortcomings and hurdle me deeper into depression.

I tried so hard to pick up where I left off in November. When I got the medical release, I went to the gym the very next morning. Immediately, I saw the strength and stamina that had been zapped from me. I saw all of these unfamiliar faces who had joined the gym to work on their New Years Resolutions. Panic crept up and just breathing became my main focus that morning.

I tried 3 or 4 more times to go back to the gym. I missed going!! I missed the empowerment that it gave me!!

Now, I've only felt disappointment that my cardio which had been 60 minutes a day lasts a mere 20 minutes and is riddled with pain. Panic continues to plague me the moment I pull into the parking lot making the whole process more difficult.

Last week, it all bubbled to the surface during a morning strength training attempt. Shawn and I got into a heated argument. My attitude was too negative for him and he told me such, even telling me that he didn’t want it around him, so I left.

I didn’t reach out after we were done with our barbs at one another this week. I was hurt and just plain done.

I know that being around people who are struggling is not fun. Trust me when I say that contemplating the value of my life isn’t where I want my mindset, but I have a lot to work through. I’m overwhelmed. I’m scared.

I know I cannot lean on family and friends. They have made it abundantly clear that I need to process this all on my own just as they were clear that my daily trips and treatments were meant to be born on my shoulders alone.

Yesterday, I ran into Shawn and we talked for just a few minutes. His advice was to “Act Happy” so people will want me around them.

Technically, I guess that makes sense. If I don’t want to feel completely alone then just 'act' so others won’t mind my presence…

But, here’s the problem.

I spent 31 years acting ‘happy’ because that is what people wanted, but inside, I was hurting because no one accepted me unless I was 'happy' and filled with false positivity. I could never be scared or hurt or sad or overwhelmed.

I ate to numb those negative feelings because I didn’t know how else to deal with them. Eventually, I weighed 484 lbs.

If I ‘act’ because it’s easier for others, then I’m only hurting myself. I won’t go back to just shy of 500 lbs, a very lonely existence to make others comfortable with my presence.

If I’m going to be on my own and feel my way through the darkness alone, then I’m going to be true to me, wherever that journey takes me.

I won’t ‘act’.

Somewhere along the line, I got the words 'independent' and 'isolated' confused.

I've always been an independent soul. If I could do it on my own, I wanted to. If I couldn't do it on my own, I still tried to!

Asking for help was one of my least favorite things in the world. To ask for help was admitting weakness. (I still struggle mightily with this today, but I am learning.)

Recently, I've had to stop going to the gym completely for almost the entire month of December. I was dreading this halt because I was terrified that I'd get so far out of the habit of going, I'd quit.

Oh how easy it would be to quit... or so I thought when November 30th came and I had to take a step back from my workouts.

Each night, instead of getting off the highway an exit early to go to the gym to get a good workout, I head home. It's eerily reminiscent of life before this journey started and that's what I thought would draw me back, my old lifestyle.

Instead, I'm getting lessons in just how unhappy I was. Not necessarily with my weight or lack of activity back then but with my LIFE!

As I walk into my empty house, silence greets me. Even my dog is visiting 'Grandpa' for the month. I have my ever-constant companion from my old life: the tv... but I'm so unhappy!

I look at the phone and know that no one is likely going to call or text because I pushed most of my friends away years ago, and I'm not one who easily picks a phone up and dials. (I'm always worried that the last person someone wants to hear from is me, so I just don't... well that and to admit that I need help, even in the form of friendship, really is difficult.)

Silence.

It has occurred to me that my old life wasn't about independence as much as it was about isolation. I successfully pushed people away claiming I wanted to be independent but what I guess I wanted was to just be left alone under the noble guise of 'independence'.

Without the energy of the people at the gym each night, it's now apparent how empty my life really was, and it's sad to realize that I did this to myself!

I miss the energy and the friendly faces that greeted me before I headed to my home each night, as well as the feeling of self-satisfaction when I climbed off a piece of equipment that helped clear the stress of my day away.

I know now that going back will have hiccups as I try to re-establish my routine, but it won't be nearly as hard as I once feared it would be.

Going to the gym hasn't just been about changing my body, it's been about changing my life. And, the people there, the amazing friendships that I've formed there, and the energy there, has truly changed me.

Independence no longer means isolation.

What do you do…

When God trusts you more than you trust yourself?

When the weight on your shoulders seems unbearably heavy and you know more is on its way?

When you feel guilty because you know there are others out there who carry far more than you could imagine?

When the people around you only want to hear the positives and all you want to do is lean on someone and just cry for a minute?

For years, I knew something was wrong with my legs, but doctor after doctor told me I was wrong.

A few weeks ago, I got validation when this new doctor asked me why I waited so long to seek help. I was stunned. For 20 years, I searched and questioned and was always shut down. I hated myself because if it wasn’t medical then I was imagining it, and when I imagined this pain then I was self-inducing laziness because I just didn’t want to move. I had to be a horrible person if this is what I was doing to myself.

The second shock came when the doctor gave me the proposed plan. Weeks of treatment that consists of 2 hours a day, 5 days a week at a hospital clinic.

Fear trickled through my veins. How could I miss all these hours at work? Would I lose my job? How can I pay the copays? Do I have to stop at the gym and then struggle to start again? How do I care for my dog knowing I’d have to leave him 14 hours a day with this proposed schedule? How do I do this??

The few that I entrusted with this newfound information came back with answers of ‘Have Faith.’ ‘Look at the positive that you are finally getting answers.’ And, ‘it will all work out.’

They are all right! But how?!

Is the money fairy going to be visiting? I’m struggling to survive as it is and that’s before the daily copays and the parking fees that will reach about $1000 and can only be paid in cash because the office doesn’t take credit cards. Where is the money going to come from for the equipment fees for things that I’ll have to purchase to self-maintain when the hospital visits are over?

And, yes, I’m finally getting answers but some of those answers scare me! They have lifelong implications and create new questions, too.

Faith. Yes, I have faith. It’s gotten me through so many things in life, and I believe it will get me through this as well, but I really think God trusts me more than I trust myself.

I’m not looking for pity or focusing on the negative when I say that sometimes I just want to lean on someone for a minute and let the tears fall. Sometimes, I just want someone, anyone, to realize that I’m scared. Being scared doesn’t mean that I’m not going to find the positives or that I quit, it means nothing more than I’m human and I’m overwhelmed.

I’ve always been one to internalize and never seek support. Maybe it’s my fault that I stand here feeling alone.

I believe with all my heart that things will work out, but some of the challenges ahead have me uncertain with how to handle them. I will figure it out and move forward.

I always do.

Where were the cheers and whistles? The confetti and balloons?

I did the unthinkable for me. On October 20, 2008, I took my 484 lb body and I stepped inside a gym.

I was beyond terrified. I didn’t know what possessed me to ever think that joining a gym was a good idea, but there I was, standing in the women’s area watching Shawn demonstrate a machine.

At the end of that first hour, Shawn gave me a hug and told me that he could help me change, but only if I wanted to change.

But did I? Every attempt I’d ever made at weight loss ended in failure with even more pounds packed onto my body and a steeper spiral into depression.

As bad as it was living in a body so large, enduing stares, rude comments, and taunts, and contemplating death all the time, it was familiar to me. Did I want to change? Could I change?

I went back to the gym two days later and two days after that and then the next week and the next month.

It took us a long time to get me to try new things. Venturing outside the women’s area provided new weight machines, new cardio equipment, free weights, a basketball court, a boxing studio, and group classes.

I still have my moments of pure anxiety sometimes and things like group classes are still on the horizon for me, but the things that I have tried and can do, far exceed those that trip me up and cause hesitation.

In this year, I went from never moving off the couch to someone who goes to the gym 8-10 times a week accruing 4 or more hours of strength training and 4 or more hours of cardio every seven days.

I have faced challenges such as the unexpected death of my dog in week two to having doctors restrict me from strength training for almost two months while they searched for the source of my illness.

Habits were changing and walls were tumbling. I had to focus on nutrition, exercise, and sleep with a completely different outlook while dealing with anxiety as I watched my mental barriers that had been erected to protect me from the world disintegrate into piles of rubble in front of me.

Eventually family, friends, and coworkers began to notice a difference in me. In the beginning, I dodged the questions asking what changed and then one day, about 9 months in, I decided to spill my secret.

Before long, everyone knew that I went to a gym. I got a lot of surprised responses and a few negative comments, but it was mostly supportive. It was necessary to keep it quiet while I got myself secured in my new lifestyle, but it was a relief to have it out in the open as well.

When I went yesterday morning and again in the evening, there were no cheers or whistles, no confetti or balloons. I smiled and started my workout, happy to be where I was.

Mentally, I went back to Shawn’s comment one year earlier when he said he could help me change.

I thought he meant my weight.

I didn’t know he meant my life.

As I was about to leave, I walked over to him and simply said “Thank you” to which I received a hug.

I am not the same person I was a year ago. I am happy and lighter in life.

I switched schools in the ninth grade. I was quite lost as I traversed the hallways, I didn’t know the school and I didn’t know one person there.

I have never been one who made friends easily and further complicating the matter was the fact that I always befriended guys. I was in unfamiliar territory in my new all girls school!

Slowly, I made a core group of friends, clicking with one girl in particular, Jenn.

For four years, we were inseparable. Our friendship was good but there were bumps. Jenn had a habit of telling lies for attention. I didn’t like it, but I put up with it because I knew her home life was a mess, and those lies rarely affected me, so I just ignored them for the most part.

We ended up at the same college and shortly after we started, she turned on me to impress a group of new people. I was floored. Even though she quit before sophomore year, those lies haunted me my entire time there.

Jenn and I didn’t speak for eight years.

In 2004, she surfaced. I thought she had changed as I listened to her and then met her new husband. We talked, caught up, laughed. I put aside my hurt and wanted to believe.

Six months later, she stole from me. I didn’t hear from her for another four years.

At the end of 2008, she once again reappeared. An email in my inbox. Another new husband. A new story.

This happened at a time when I was just beginning my journey to find myself. I could turn my back and focus on myself, or I could take things head-on and begin to close chapters that had caused me to put barriers up around me.

We talked via email, and I could see that some things had not changed. Lies were still present, but I continued to chat online because there was a peace internally knowing that I felt in control.

After listening to her talk about wanting to lose weight for months, I finally invited her to join me at my gym. She’d say yes and then cancel every time, only to inquire a few days later about going again.

On Sunday, she finally followed through and we saw each other for the first time in five years.

We laughed and talked just like we used to. There is a bond of friendship there, but it’s scarred with lies.

My family questioned why I let her back into my life, especially into this part. It was a valid question. And, it was a question that I had an answer for.

I have found an inner strength in myself.

If she starts her lies up, I have faith that my friends at the gym who have encouraged me, listened to me, and cared about me for a year will not automatically accept her word. My friends are strong in their body and mind; they are not the impressionable kids we once were.

And finally… for purely selfish reasons: I was always the one lagging behind in our group in high school due to my weight. On Sunday, I discovered that she couldn’t keep up with me! It felt damn good!!

If she chooses to join the gym, that is her right. Honestly, I wish nothing but success to those who seek better fitness.

I understand that others view my decision as risky, but I think it will only concrete my determination to continue my journey and develop the inner strength that I have desired for so many years… and if she gets to me, I’ll run away and leave her in my dust! :-)

Life has taken some crazy turns recently, and it has been challenging to pick the pieces up. 

Over the summer, I was having medical test after medical test trying to determine why I was in so much pain and dizzy.  Good news!  It's nothing that is life threatening or even life altering.  I have a narrowing in my spine that causes my spinal chord to get irritated.  It can result in extreme pain if it gets bad enough and apparently, it got bad. 

My doctor had stopped me from doing strength training which was my real love at the gym.  I continued to try to do cardio as much as possible in the evenings, but that was difficult. 

Shawn questioned why I was coming when I could barely move some days, but I knew that the day I stopped was the day I quit.  I had come too far to quit now!  That's not to say that I didn't struggle because I certainly did!

I returned to my old ways of eating for comfort because it eased my frustrations.  I failed to notice, or maybe care, that I was only creating new frustrations down the road but that is neither here nor there at this point. 

When I finally was released to strength train again, I was scared.  I knew that I had lost strength.  Also, I  was no longer used to getting up early to go to the gym.  It took me about 3 weeks to really care to try, and I would go once a week and not the other two mornings.

Last week, I decided that I was back!  I got up and went Monday and Wednesday and Friday.  I could feel the pieces clicking back together in my life.

Over the weekend, I made a game plan to get back into ALL of my workouts, morning ST and evening cardio.  I had a list of things to discuss with my boss, and some scary paperwork that my dad asked me to sign.  I wasn't handling the dad paperwork too great, but I put it on my To-Do list.  (That paperwork is a whole other blog!)

Monday, I got up at 5:30am and went to the gym for a good leg workout.  When I got to work, I scoured through the 120 emails and picked the ones that I knew I could delete quickly.

I saw "Announcement" and thought 'somebody is getting promoted! I'll scan and delete this one!'    My heart fell when I read "I'm saddened to tell you about the sudden loss of Lee XX over the weekend to an apparent heart attack..."

My manager had died.

It still seems surreal.  He was too young at 58.  He took care of himself, went to the gym, ate healthy, sailed, loved his wife and girls.  He was gone.

The email wasn't sent out company-wide yet, just to the 5 of us who worked for him and a few others in corporate management.  I had to tell my employees who thought as much of Lee as I did.  Then word started spreading and people were stopping in.  How?  When?  Anything they could do to help me?

I didn't know much.  I just knew a great man had died.  One that I admired and respected, professionally and personally.  He was one of the first that I told about my adventures at the gym and he was so supportive.  When I got sick, he was there asking how I was, inquiring if I needed to take more time off.  And, then he was gone.

Someone actually told me on Monday that I should quit caring about the gym and eating healthier because Lee cared and he died when he was supposed to die.  This boggles my mind.  How do we know that he didn't give himself an extra 10 years of life?

Her words played with my mind and Monday night, I couldn't sleep.  Lee plagued my thoughts and those words "Enjoy your life, Kim.  The gym won't make a difference." played over and over and over in my mind as I stared at the ceiling.

She's right!  I thought to myself.  I should enjoy life! 

I got out of bed and went to the gym.  I never go on Tuesday mornings, but this week, I did.  I went for Lee's belief in me, for my enjoyment.

Maybe exercising won't change my life and I'll go at a predetermined time like she suggested.  But, maybe it will!!  (I believe it will make a difference in my life!). 

Either way, I do love the gym and the freedom and independence that Shawn opened my eyes to and I opened my mind to.  It took a tragedy to help cement my determination.

Tell your friends and your family and even your coworkers what they mean to you because you never know when something might happen.  They may not know the mark that they are leaving on you. 

Verbal Dyslexia. I have absolutely no idea if it exists, but this is how I have described myself for most of my life.

I love words when it comes to writing. I enjoy putting thoughts down on paper, typing in a computer, finding the exact word to describe whatever emotion I'm trying to convey.

However, I loathe words when I need to speak. I don't stutter, but I jumble words or I choose the wrong word completely.  

Half the time what comes out of my mouth is no where near what I intended, and that is assuming they were actual words and not just a jumble of letters put together in the midst of a sentence.

It's embarrassing, and yet I can't remember a time where this hasn't plagued me.  

I'm careful in my speech and know not to speak too quickly as it only exacerbates the problem, but even at the slowest of speeds, I still have this problem.

I equate it to being in a library and each word is a book on a shelf. You know the word you want is on the top shelf to the left but the word that comes out is across the room on the bottom shelf. I may be thinking "Red" but "Green" comes out or even more frustrating "Bike" which has nothing to do with the topic at hand.

I feel tongue-tied most of the time and sometimes feel like a good whack to the head might "loosen" up the words when I'm really struggling, but I live with it because I don't have a choice.

What I struggle with is the reactions I get from people. No, the laughs and the perplexed looks from people who don't know me really don't bother me too much. I'm sure they think I just picked the 'wrong' word or that I'm a blithering idiot at worst. I can walk away from these people, sometimes with a laugh because even I can laugh at what I might have just said, or didn't say if I just stopped halfway through a sentence knowing that there was no way I would be able to finish my thought.

It's the people who know me. Family and friends and their reactions. I'm fairly open with this problem, let's face it, there really isn't a way to hide it! But, sometimes the things that are said just catch me off guard and sometimes they really hurt.

Everyone has their flaws and it's my understanding that family and friends usually accept you for who you are because they know the real you. They see past the flaws and celebrate who we are as people. Maybe that is idealistic and I need to join the real world because this "flaw" that I've had most of my life has lead to amazing arguments, tears, embarrassment, and yes, a few laughs, but mostly hurt when it's thrown in my face.

One of my biggest critics has been my father. He could not fathom why I would use the wrong word or why this jumbled mess would just ooze out of my mouth in place of well thought out arguments. Education was of the utmost importance to him and this inability with words made me appear uneducated. It's hard enough trying to get my thoughts out on their own that having someone criticize me makes it ten times worse.

A criticism that I get so often is the need to stop using words altogether in favor of a different word. For example instead of saying "again" try saying "over and over". When I struggle to pull words off the shelf on a good day, having someone ban words that I can easily find is disheartening.

When it's familiar to me, it's easier, not great but easier, to hold a flowing, cognizant conversation. When I have to stop and think about words that are banned or that are negative or might have a different pronunciation, I struggle so hard. The more I struggle, the more it seems to invite people to keep adding to the list of banned words, or the criticisms of the jumbled mess that I speak.

It's a slippery slope of wanting to communicate with those I love, realizing that they cannot just allow me to do my best without commenting on it, and wanting to become completely mute because I don't really understand how these people who know the real me cannot accept this flaw and just have patience with me for it.

This afternoon I was speaking with my father when this jumbled mess fell out of my mouth following a very frustrating task that was not going as planned. I waited for the criticism and it didn't come. I was a little surprised and he said "I've gotten better at understanding of your words now. Have you noticed?"

"A little bit, but I'm so gun-shy because everyone in this family is so critical."

"I know, but I'm learning," he said and then paused, "I've noticed as I get older that sometimes a completely unexpected word will slip out in the middle of a conversation. It's very frustrating."

I nodded my head and looked at my father who is going to be 63 next month and is starting to show some age.

He continued, "I think I'm beginning to understand how hard it must be on you. I couldn't wrap my mind around that feeling of sheer frustration no matter how you described it over the years. I can't imagine having this tongue-tied feeling all of my life."

"It's horrible," I admitted. "What makes it worse is the fact that it's a flaw that my family and friends don't accept."

He nodded, finally understanding and maybe accepting that he was hard on me.

I wish there was a way to describe this frustrating feeling when speaking. I wish there was a way that I could overcome it. I wish it wasn't such a source of criticism from those who care about me. I wish it didn't hurt so bad when those I love feel the need to criticize.

I can wish all I want, but the fact is: I am me and this is a part of me.... and I wouldn't wish this frustration on anyone.

This morning on Good Morning America, they featured a personal trainer who intentionally gained as much weight as he could in 6 months. When asked why, he stated that he wanted to understand the journey his clients went through. At the end of 6 months, he had packed on 88 lbs.

I'm conflicted on this.

I think it's admirable that he wants to feel what it's like to be overweight and empathize with people on the struggles to lose excess fat, but will it really give him insight?

 The gym is a place that he's comfortable in. It's an atmosphere that was a crucial part of his life for years. Will he understand the anxiety someone like me had just opening that gym door for the first time? I sat in the car for over 10 minutes before Shawn came out and got me the first time. I struggled with that door for months because the atmosphere inside was so foreign to me!

He gained weight by eating food with no limits and the clear intention of adding fat to his physique. Will he understand my battles with food, which wasn't for the purpose of gaining fat but for creating a physical barrier from the rest of the world?

Will he understand losing weight just means going back to his old habits of eating healthy and exercising, where as I needed to completely change my thought process on healthy food and physical activity?

Will he understand a mental plateau? That's what I call it when I hit the point where my mind is frustrated, my body isn't reacting, and everything comes to a stand still. For me, the root cause is usually mental, and when I overcome it, things start falling in place again. Sometimes as the weight comes off, it reveals something that I had previously covered and hidden from, like a fear of destroying a friendship because I said the wrong thing. When I ate to cover the fear, it was easier because it was familiar. But, now, I have to face that fear head on and tackle it without food. For me, that would mean, I'm mentally stuck and that has caused a plateau. Without those concerns, will he understand what I'm struggling to go through?

I'll even admit that out of my own frustration with my body and with Shawn pushing me to move faster, I once told him to go add 200 lbs of plate weights to his body and do what he was asking me to do! I won't tell you how he responded, but I will tell you that I ended up pushing myself harder and that effort was all he wanted.

However, if he came to me and said, "Kim, I want to understand, so I'm going to gain 100 lbs. What do you think?" My response would be, "Please don't."

 Our bodies aren't meant to carry an extra 100, 200, or even 350 lbs in my case. The damage can be life altering if a knee is blown, if diabetes develops, or God forbid, a heart attack happens because his body was used to healthy eating and a low fat percentage and a sudden change was too much for it to handle. I'm not sure I would forgive myself if something like that happened in his quest to better understand my journey.

 I'd rather watch someone who is committed to their lifestyle lead by example than endanger their life and impact their families and friends, as well as themselves.

 Life has given each person their own burdens and frustrations. We don't need to intentionally look for more.

 I truly believe you don't need to live in someone else's shoes to empathize with their plight. Just being human and able to look within ourselves and our own journey's gives us the ability to empathize, to guide and support, without first hand experience.

Live in Your Strength is a quote that I have tacked up on my office wall at work. It's one of many quotes that I surround myself with at all times.

I love quotes because they are usually simple reminders of things that we often forget.

There are times when I go for weeks or even months without reading a particular quote and I'll see it as if it's the first time that I've ever noticed it before. Today was one of those days when I saw Live in Your Strength.

I have made no secret of my struggles this summer from the emotional side to the medical side. I've been slipping with my eating and my exercising. In the beginning, I thought it was just laziness on my part, and then I started to feel bad, real bad.

I have had days where the pain is so horrific that I can barely move. I have had days where nothing feels wrong at all. But, it's been more painful days than not.

I had one day where I never even got on a piece of equipment. I was sitting at a table talking to Shawn about the game plan of the morning when the pain hit me full force. I burst into tears it was so bad. That was one of the first really painful days, and it was everything I could do to get into a car and drive home. That was the day I knew I had to see a doctor, there would be no canceling of the upcoming appointment that I had made the week before because I felt off.

It has been almost a month since that doctor's appointment, and I've gone through multiple tests, and I'm awaiting the full results next week. There is a part of me that is still scared.

I'm scared what might come back on the medical tests, but I'm mostly scared because everything that I worked for has been slipping through my fingers. I haven't been able to strength train in 3 weeks. I've had limited cardio because there are days where I only last 10 minutes and days where I never even went to the gym. There have been a few days where I went and got an okay workout in, but my stamina is lower, my speed is diminished, and I'm frustrated by it all. As far as I had come with my diet since October, I have returned to my old stress eating habits.

It's time to stop being scared.

It's time to focus on what hasn't slipped through my fingers rather than what has. I have an incredible friendship in Shawn that I know isn't going anywhere, and I know he will only let me walk away so far before he drags me back. I have friendships with people online that have supported me throughout this process and listened when they didn't have to and cared even though they don't personally know me (yet). I have gone to the gym even on rough days and 10 minutes is far better than not going at all. Yes, my eating is not anything to be proud of, but, at least, I know that! I can fix what I'm aware of.

It's time to stop being scared and start living in my strength.

Focusing on what I am strong enough to do today is much better than worrying about what I might not be able to do tomorrow.

I challenge everyone who reads this to Live in Your Strength.

This has been a really crazy week. I intended to post a few blogs and updates, but I just couldn't seem to find the words to explain what I was thinking and feeling.

I made it through the medical tests earlier this week. It wasn't the easiest time, but the medical groups I was working with were all in one building and were absolutely wonderful. They share a common lobby, so I was pretty much a familiar face by the end of the day as I bounced from the cardiac desk to the imaging desk back to cardiac to vein back to cardiac all day long.

I intentionally scheduled about 90 minutes free in the middle of the day so I could regroup. I failed at this miserably. In the morning, I had arranged to call a friend during this time to laugh and lighten my mood. Things don't always go as planned. We ended up in a nasty argument.

I sat in my car with tears streaming down my face. A combination of fear from one of the tests that didn't go as planned and it's initial diagnosis and the hurt that I felt from our argument. My face burned with hot tears, and I wondered how my friend could throw a verbal jab so hard that it felt I had been belted in the face. They knew the crap that I was going through, why would they add to it?

The modern technology of cell phones led to a complete misunderstanding between the two of us, but it took until that evening to sort it out, so I had to go back to the medical building with a tear stained face.

The next test was the CT of the heart, and I was terrified that I wouldn't fit. I sat in the waiting room for just minutes, but it felt like forever until I was called. I looked at the machine and asked if we should make sure I fit before putting the IV in. The tech smiled and told me not to worry. She was right.

It occurred to me as I went through everything that I was just squeaking in under the weight limits of the machines. Had I not been on my journey since October with such success, I wouldn't be able to go through these tests to help find out what is going on with me. That is a sobering thought.

All week, I stared at the prescriptions to go for more testing. These were the ones that I feared making the appointments. On Friday, I did call to schedule the Brain and Spine MRI for next week. However, I'm still dragging my feet on a new test that came as a result of Tuesday. Maybe tomorrow, I can make that call.

This really has been a rough week, but it's been full of lessons, too.

I need to keep going on my journey. I need to continue losing weight and discovering myself. I need to believe in myself and understand that I do have limitations, and when I'm in pain, I can't push myself to go through a complete workout like I was doing before this started. I need to learn to trust other people and know that I don't have to handle everything on my own. I need to learn alot.