Broken

I'm in love with a man that I've just broken up with. That makes no sense, does it? No, it doesn't. 

He's the perfect man for me. He's kind, aware of my needs and utterly willing to meet them, so full of love and tenderness for me, encouraging, patient, honest. He's wonderful. 

But he lives 4500 miles away and I'm not strong enough to do distance any longer. He was willing to put everything in his life away for me. He planned to move all this way, just for me, and I told him I couldn't wait. 

I caved to the pressure I feel from everyone else to be able to explain our age difference, when the only explanation I have is that I love him. I'm in love with him.

I think I've made the biggest mistake of my life. I've been looking at what it would mean if we eloped, so he could legally stay here, so we wouldn't have to wait... Even then, I have to have a full time job to prove (to the government) I can support us both until his  work status was changed. I don't have a full time job, I can't prove that I can bring him here. 

And it feels like I can't keep waiting. I am such a fool. I hurt everywhere. I deserve it for hurting my best friend, the man I love, like this. I don't deserve him and his love. That much is obvious. I'm an idiot, a fool, and I'm cruel. 

I am so broken.

numero dos

Welcome to post number two about the crazy that I can lovingly call the past few weeks. 

I do not doubt you wait on baited breath to read about how Color Me Rad 2013 went. I won't drag out the suspense any longer, this is the post you anticipated. 

I decided to do a 5k a few months back. Now, I do not like running. In fact, I detest it. This is why deciding to run a 5k was somewhat out of character. Ok, a lot out of character. This is how my day started: 

Yes, I'm super fly. All clean and shiney, I was ready to go. I spent the last several months training for Color Me Rad. My initial reaction to training was somewhat skin to my thoughts on slathering myself with sugar water and hanging out in the Houston bayous without mosquito spray. That said, it got a little better. 

Then I fell off the bandwagon a bit when the semester went crazy on me. Combined with the course being mainly gravel and potholed road, and the fact I had a wedding to attend later that evening, I did not attempt to run the whole thing. I wasn't ready. I did the 5k anyway and had a lot of fun. 

This picture is right before the race started after the preface zumba class.

This photo is just after I crossed the finished line. I ran about 20 minutes of the 5k in total over several different parts. 

I could be disappointed in myself for not running the whole thing, and if running was my gig, I might be. But running hurts and it takes so much effort for me. I am just proud of myself for getting out there by myself. I was my own motivation. 

It was worth it and I'm going to keep working at it. I'm worth the effort. 

first of a few

It's been a busy time in microcosm called graduate school. This semester consumed every bit of energy I held in reserve and a little more just for good measure. Lost somewhere between the good, the bad, and the ugly, I found a little bit of equilibrium.

I have pictures to prove it. This will be the first of a few posts summing up the past few months. 

Let's start with friends. This subject is both awesome and tough. I've made a few close friends at OU this time around. I've also spent a lot of time alone. Sometimes, it's just really hard. I've met some great friends that I've gotten to do really bomb things with. Kate is a perfect example. She's wonderful and we get along so very, very well.

We made these awesome ottomans from shipping palates. Yes, we're legit. 

Then, there have been other moments with people I would call friends that make me realize I'm just not a cool kid and probably won't ever be. I'm ok with being nerdy, passionate, and a know-it-all. I have to accept those parts of myself because I cannot change it no matter how hard I try. They've always been there.  I always considered myself a good friend, though. I am loyal, generous with my time, energy, and anything I can share, and I love to be my friends' biggest cheerleader. These are truths about me as a person. 

But, it hurts when a huge group of people I would have counted close friends from undergrad and some  people I've only come to know this year, but would consider friends, don't think to include me in some fun stuff they're doing. I wish I could say it's just a random oversight, but this is also a group of people I'd call the cool kids of undergrad. I was not a cool kid by any stretch, but I did work closely with many of this group so many times for different events. Some of them I even considered my closest friends from my bachelors'. I am learning that it wasn't necessarily a two way street. 

And that's really hard. I want to accept it and be thankful of the people I do have in my life. The ones that want me around as much as I want to hang around with them are the people who should matter. Still, when I realize that I'm not a cool kid and plenty of people don't think of me as someone to invite when they are the people I would think to invite, it makes my breath catch if it hits me in the right moment. Ouch. 

And all of this made me think. I'm grateful for the people who matter, and will work on reminding myself that not everyone needs to like me as long as I love myself. It's a process. I'm working on it.

thoughts for the day.

So, my dad went to therapy with me. I have a lot of feelings about this that I'm not overly ready to get into, but it has given me a lot to think about. I also want to preface all of this with a few things.

1. I am exceptionally loved. This is not something I doubt and it is not something I have ever questioned. 
2. I have never gone without anything I needed. 
3. My father's care for me and my needs is so amazingly apparent in his willingness to fly 500 miles to go to therapy with me even though he is not a fan of therapy at all. 

One of the things that my therapist made mention of was how it's clear that I run the conversations Dad and I have had in real life, or the way I think they would go if we were talking about X subject, whatever X subject is, in my head over and over. Because I know his responses so well, and sincerely, I do know his responses and how they make me feel so well, it is exhausting.

I expend the emotions and mental worry over these conversations I hold in my head when I rehearse them which makes me not want to repeat the conversation in person for the exact same outcome and the additional burden of the actual experience as opposed to just the expectation of the awfulness of it all. Though my internal perception of what will come is typically spot on, it's worse in some ways because it's not actually my parents saying those words (until they do), but rather me telling myself the same things they would. It's a double whammy after it's come from me a few dozen times followed by the actual conversation with them.

So, I avoid bringing things up entirely and have become very good at just telling my parents the stuff they need to know on a need to know basis. They feel very cut out of the loop by this. I get that. It's my fault and a deserved criticism. I have done it as a way to protect myself from the weight and shame of being utterly disappointing. I also try to present everything as a complete and neat package so that I'm ready to field the upset and angry questions with all of the answers.

I'm too organized and too scared go in without every angle set, but that's what they don't like.

It's hard to know what to do about it. Really hard. But, I'm thinking about it and trying to figure something out.

bahahaha

I laughed so hard I almost cried.

Again, you're welcome.

You'll thank me later.

It's beautiful, isn't it? You're welcome.

I don't even care that it's April. That is brilliant. I love the interwebs.

thumbs up

I hit the 230s. I didn't hit 230, but the first two numbers of my current weight are 2 and 3, in that order. I know that for a lot of people out there, you might be thinking, "Dang, that's something blog worthy?", but, for me, this is absolutely blog worthy. I'm a girl who definitely hit a whopping 302 towards the end of my senior year of college. I'm not busting out the happy dance at the 230s, but I am going to give myself a thumbs up and a nod.

or I'll let Taylor give me a thumbs up and a nodd. whatever. 

Random thought: why do we call it thumbs up even if it's only one thumb. That gif isn't TSwift giving me a thumb (singular) up - even though she totally is. 

Ok, back to why I'm posting, this is cool. I had a really long plateau, think 8 weeks long, of being in the 240s. I started running and still was not losing ANY weight... what the heck? I couldn't tell ya.

Regardless, I don't remember the last time I weighed in the 230s and this is coming off of Vegas and rich food, people. It could have been the end of high school... maybe? When you spend a lot of time feeling ashamed of your weight, and believe me, I totally have spent a TON of time being ashamed, you try to avoid the scale like it will give you leprosy forget the numbers on the scale ASAP. It doesn't feel good to look at a number that society tells you that you should be ashamed of, and I think that's probably putting it lightly when I'm totally honest. 

So, when I stepped on the scale this morning before work, saw 239.4; I did a double take, and smiled when the number stuck. It's not perfect, skinny, or even remotely in the normal/healthy range by any means, but it's a process. I'm taking steps to be where I'd like to be. I'm not there yet, but I'm closer than I was yesterday. And I get to give myself a thumbs up for that. 

High five to all the other ladies who have been here, who have struggled, and made it through. And to all the other chicas who are stuck, want to change, but are overwhelmed at where to begin or how daunting a task it seems to be, I feel you. I know where you are. You aren't invisible. I support your choice to stay exactly as you are or to make changes. You get to decide, and I support you either way. 

exhausted much?

So, I slept for 18 hours yesterday. Um, what? 

Apparently, Vegas, all the excitement of ACPA, coming home to finish my Greenbelt class (not the project - that's just starting), knowing I have an exam to cram for on Monday, and everything else going on since the start of February sent my body into crash mode.

I don't think I've ever slept so long in my entire life. My mother would be ashamed. She used to tell us naps meant we were being lazy. I have worked hard to rewire that notion. Sometimes, they are just necessary and that's ok.

After my greenbelt (LEAN/Six Sigma) class in the morning and lunch/work time with my group to get the project rolling, I went home for what I intended to be a brief nap followed by time at the library to study for my Adult Learner test. That was about 2:30. I woke up at 8:30, looked at the clock and said, "Nope, no studying today." I used the restroom, crawled back into bed and went back to sleep. I woke up again around 1:30 for another bathroom break, then I went back to bed until about 7:30 this morning.

I was tired. 

And for the first time in weeks, I woke up totally rested rather than dragging as if I hadn't slept. 

It was glorious and necessary, that much is obvious. At least to me it was based on the fact that my body allowed me to sleep for that long. Even when I stayed up for 48 hours straight on one of the trips from England (stayed up all night to try and make me sleep on the plane - it didn't work), I didn't sleep more than 10 hours. Now, I'm at the library studying for my test tomorrow. I'm pretty nervous about it because I really do not know what to expect. That said, I'll probably be here for another six or seven hours to get that figured out. I got here at noon (when it opened) and expect to be here until 10 or 11. Maybe later. They close at 2 on regular (non-finals week) Sundays. 

I promise to make a post or two about the awesome that was ACPA. I just figured a bit of a study break  was necessary as well as a longer post since ACPA kind of threw all that off. 

It's good to be back, I think :). 

a not so small life problem

Ever have one of those days where the things that happen are clearly hilarious as long as it's not happening to you? Yeah, me too. 

So, I have, um, a rather large chest. I've been busty since I was 15 or so. They magically appeared. This was something of a surprise to me. My mom is not chesty in the slightest. Far from it. She's actually very petite on her upper body in general. She is your classic pear shape. I understand that your chest size is supposedly tied to your dad's mom's chest. I have not stared down either of my grandmothers' chests and have no intention of changing that any time soon. I just know that I have more than enough love to go around in that department. 

Considering that I'm still significantly over weight, this isn't a surprising fact. I look pretty proportionate in regular clothes. If I wear anything remotely low cut, I look RIDICULOUS. I'm talking boobs for days, people. I wore square necked shirt on my 24th birthday to go out with friends to celebrate. My mom told me I looked that a tramp right before I left the house in front of a few of my friends. It was encouraging, as I'm sure you can imagine. It's also the first time my parents have ever referred to me as anything remotely like that considering I dress pretty modestly in general. This is also funny because my mom was a total sorostitute and my dad a fratdaddy. My sister isn't overly modest, and they certainly have NO issues with that. I just don't often show them off. It can be a lot. 

I have to be careful when taking pictures because otherwise all you see is my massive chest. 

These are two examples of what I'm talking about...

This has been part of my life for ten years, so it's nothing new or surprising. Things hit an all-time level of WTF in the past few weeks though while performing a certain activity - you guessed it, running. Now, good bras are an absolute where I am concerned. There is no avoiding the necessity and sports bras are no exception. I'm ok with that. I also anticipate some movement when working out. Unless I'm holding on to them, I can't help it.   I have consistently had no issues on the elliptical with these sports bras. So, I wasn't concerned when I bumped up to running on the treadmill. Epic Fail.

Apparently, my older sports bras were just worn out because I came ALL THE WAY out of the top of a couple of them. As in, out of the neckline of my sports bra, moving up and down with a higher vertical jump than I have in real life, almost hit me on the chin while I was running at the gym, all the way out of my sports bra. This has happened three times with three different bras of varying ages. 

You may be wondering how it's humanly possible not to notice your boobs coming out the top of your bra... I didn't feel the bra sliding down or anything. I don't know why, but I just didn't.  I did, however, noticed more movement that norman and looked down. That's when I almost was hit in the face. I realized what happened at that point, but I was mid run, so I didn't think I could do anything about it without slowing to a walk. I tucked my arms against my chest, finished out my last 30 seconds, slowed to my walk and then tried to inconspicuously pull my bra back in place (the gym was packed and I felt sooooo awkward). 

I then texted my mom and sister, laughed at myself and my awkward boobs, and then finished my workout with at least one arm trying to keep them somewhat still. Hah. What can I say, such is life. I suppose that I should just keep a smile on my face and be excited about the brand new sports bras I got to go buy :). 

Can anyone else relate? Anyone else have an equally awkward moment? 

the bump up

The past two weeks have been rough on the 5k training. Part of this is because of how beyond busy I've been in the past two weeks. I have had so little time to think straight, much less hit the gym. Every spare moment of my time has been spent working on some project, reading for some class, taking care of another thing on the list. Running had to take a bit of a back burner.

Two weeks ago I bumped up to the 3 minutes on 4 minutes off. The first two workouts were great. I hit the full three minutes, no big deal. The third workout was awful. I struggled to get through it. I decided that I should do 3 x 4 again last week since I had such a rough time at the end of the week. Last week I was only able to get in two workouts because of the crazy schedule. It still wasn't easy. That's for dang sure.

This week was the bump up to 4x3. I definitely considered staying on 3x4, but that seemed weak. I don't want to whimp out on myself. That is really important to me, actually. I don't need another week of 3x4, I need to get my head on straight and my butt in gear.

The bump up made me nervous for a couple of reasons. The first is that this week follows two weeks of mediocre success. I have struggled at three minutes. That reasons that four minutes won't be any better, and quite a bit more of a struggle. The second reason is that this is the first week that the time running outnumbers the time walking.

It was tough. I didn't end up wholly successful. I also had to run significantly slower than I started out, but I can do four minutes. I didn't know if I could. For the real world, that may not be overly concerning, but it scared the tar out of me. I have a TON of room for improvement, I couldn't do four minutes on, three off, but I can do four minutes and I know if I get my head right, I can do this. So, I need to slow it down, get my head on straight, have a little faith, and have a lot of dedication, determination, and desire.

the pen thief

I'm the type of girl that feels very self-sconscious about somewhat strange things. I have all the normal insecurities, too. Don't doubt that (haha), but I always worry when someone wants to look through my iTunes folder, the music on my phone, or my pandora playlists. I have always felt that you can tell A LOT about a person based on the music they listen to. I've always had a fear that people will judge me for not listening to the "right" music.

I was involved with a group on campus my junior year of college that brought a bunch of campus leaders together once a month. We did retreats and other fun stuff, as well as support each others' events. One of the things we did was a mixed CD exchange. We had a month's notice to bring this mix CD. I literally spent an entire month coming up with the playlist of 18 songs. I listened to them in order over and over to make sure they flowed, that the mix was fun, that it wouldn't be something someone could judge me negatively over. I also put a ton of music I LOVED on there. It wasn't just a party mix. It was a little piece of me in that plastic case. I wanted the person who got it to like it, to think it was a fun mix, to be excited about the surprise of it all. I was thrilled to get the mix I got. It was awesome and full of music I didn't have before the exchange. It was legit. I made a point of communicating that to the person who's CD I got.

The night of the CD exchange I was so nervous. The one person in the entire group I hoped would not get my mix ended up with it. She was actually a sorority sister of mine. At the time of all of this, she lived three doors down from my bedroom in the house. I knew from the minute she introduced herself to me during my freshman year by yelling at a new member (me - I'd pledged to join the house all of three days prior to this incident) for ten minutes about something I had no way of knowing about, she wasn't a person I wanted to be close to. For non-greek people, you shouldn't yell at new members, or anyone really, but especially the new girls... It's a good way to make them not want to join. It's also something we are taught from the very first moment after you are initiated. Treat the new members like angels because we love them, want them, and want to show them how much they have to look forward to. Epic face plant fail on her part with that move. She then continued to prove that she was not a very nice person. She had plenty of friends, so I'm sure she is perfectly nice to them otherwise they wouldn't be keen on friendship with her, but it just happens that the nice side of her personality was not what she chose to show me on the regular.

Her loss. 

Oh, where was I? Yes, the strange self-conscious things. So, I worry about how people will judge me based on my handwriting. I am always impressed with people's scrawls. I have handwriting envy. This is true of me since I was a kid. I have found there is a particular point width of pen that I like my handwriting in, so I got a lot of them. I use them more than any other pens I have because of this. Well, not really like the way I write, but with these I am less likely to think that my writing is gross and shame worthy. Hence, the pen importance. 

Then they started diappearing. I could not find them. They were mainly missing from my office. Clearly, someone stole them. Clearly. I had the one I kept in my backpack of this style and the one in my purse. The other five should be in my desk drawer. Dang pen knapper. 

Until I decided to clean out the "pen compartment" of my backpack, that is. I found all of the missing pens. So, I admit it. I stole the pens from my own desk at work and took them with me. I confess. I am grateful that I didn't voice my pen thief theory to anyone but my inner self. That would be embarrassing. I will also say I didn't realize I was stealing my own pens. I think that much is clear from this post, but it is no excuse. 

Except maybe an excuse to buy more school supplies. I love school supplies... they make me so happy. Just ask my mom or sister. You only think I'm kidding about that.

So, what should my self-imposed punishment be, oh wise internet and blog followers totaling two awesome and lovely people? 

today's personal to-do list:

I'm a big fan of to-do lists. I love being able to check something off the list. It gives me a sense of accomplishment, and allows me to make sure I leave nothing behind. I can keep track of myself and my progress this way.

This is today's list:

Tuesday, February 19th:

School:

1. Review practicum website materials 
2. Read and do reading response for Practicum
3. Read, do reading response, and do unit summary 3 for Adult Learner

Life:

1. Memorize Monologue
2. Work on Prezi for ACPA
3. Memorize Monologue
4. Meeting at Blu with Erin about ACPA
5. Memorize Monologue
6. Run

Affirmation:

1. Stop "whimping"out when running (yes, my notebook that I write all of this in really says whimping).
2. You are worth it. 
3. You can do it. 

Now, this should not be confused with my calendars (yes, that is intentionally plural) that has about 150 different other things that I need to remember or do for work, i.e., events, workshops, film screenings. This is my personal life to-do list for the day. 

All this in the name of organization, sanity, and motivation. I like to believe it's working... At least I keep telling myself that it is. 

Things I'm working on in my life.

I sincerely believe in my heart of hearts that every person could benefit from therapy at some point in their lives. Whether you've survived the death of someone close to you, lost a job, watched your dreams stay dreams, recognized you're in a funk and need help getting out of it... going to counseling, talking through the things that are hard, that beat us down, that defeat us, it is GOOD.

There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with asking for help.

There is NOTHING wrong with admitting that sometimes we can't do it alone. 

There is NOTHING wrong with seeking out a therapist. 

There is so much stigma with asking for help to deal with emotions or mental illness. No one will shame you for going to the doctor to put a cast on your broken leg, to get chemo and radiation (literal poison to your body) to fight the leukemia. So, why the heck do we make a point of tearing down people who have the courage to ask for help for anything else???

Seeing a therapist gives you a few specific things that are sometimes hard to find in regular life. 

1. A safe place to discuss things and people that it might not always be easy talk about to the people around you. 
2. A third party perspective that has no ties to your life, and can offer another way to look at things without the problem of muddled connections that sometimes friends and loved ones have to take into consideration. 
3. And, a person to help you work through your own reactions since we can't change anything else. It's impossible to change our environment, it's impossible to control other people, it's actually not even possible to control our initial reactions to things. That said, we can choose what we do with all that information. That's what therapy can help a person do. 

Now, I have to admit to being a little biased because I once dreamed of getting a PhD in Clinical Psychology and going into practice with kids with attachment issues. That probably makes me a little more pro-therapy/counseling that most.  And, I'm in therapy right now. That probably also makes me a little more pro-therapy than the average joe. I'm ok with that. 

Therapy is hard. I think it takes someone brave, someone strong, and someone who is willing to admit weakness to ask for help instead of putting pride ahead of their needs. And work. Therapy is a place to analyze, to talk, to plan, and find the ways to work so things get better. It's active, not passive.

One of the things we're working on right now is that I feel the need to do things for people, to constantly prove my worth or value to them as a person because I don't expect them to want me around based on my personality. I'm not so sure I want me, why would anyone else? It comes down to not believing I'm good enough for them to want me around if I fall short of the mark or am less than perfect. At work, this means that I will say yes to the things I'm asked to do, and do everything I can to work above expectations and well into excellent. This is also how I view my schoolwork. I put a lot of pressure on myself to perform at a pretty high level. Generally, this isn't a bad thing, but with me, it's not because I take satisfaction in a job well done, but because I am not sure they'll want to keep me if I don't do those things.

I've had some very specific instances that have knocked the fact idea that I am unworthy of acceptance and lacking in value way out of the ballpark and into my head so succinctly it becomes really hard to dislodge it from my brain. The easiest of these experiences to talk about that still can make me cry if you catch me on the right day is the story of when I went through rush before the start of my freshman year of college. If you're not from the south or a school with a massive Greek system, you might not fully understand this, but I was not invited back to any houses for preference night. I was cut from recruitment. Now, part of me wishes I could say this was because I didn't have community service hours, or had made mediocre grades, or didn't have recommendations. But, I know none of that is true. I graduated in the top 2% of my high school class, I was a legacy to a house not only on campus, but to the house my mom was actually a member of years before (she went to OU, too), I had volunteer hours out my ears, recommendations in triplicate to EVERY house, I'd held leadership positions in almost every organization I was involved with in high school which equated to about 8 in total, I was rushed by family friends' children at almost every house I went to, and I was savvy when I went through. I wore the right thing, said the right words, was excited, open, willing and so very ready to join.

On paper I was a perfect rushee; an ideal PNM. I was also fat. In reality I became the girl that no one wanted to wear their letters, to invite to date parties, to mar their pictures on facebook. To say I was devastated is an understatement of epic proportions. The message came through loud and clear. I was not worthy as I was, as I am.

Now, I did end up pledging in the spring of my freshman year to a wonderful house full of women I came to love dearly. They also happen to be one of the 11 houses that cut me the fall before, but I found a place to belong.

But, this is just one of the cases where I learned I was not worthy of people to love me because of who I am with devastating clarity. 

In my personal life, it's sometimes really hard...

I found this picture on pintrest earlier this afternoon. For the people I care for, want to spend time with, find myself drawn to, I see that I work really hard to impress them. I feel the need to make sure they recognize what I can do for them, and then that's why I'm allowed to hang around. If I'm indispensable, then I'm not so easy to ditch. I'm worth the effort. 

Therapy Man (my doctor... he doesn't know that I call him that, haha) says that I shouldn't do this. He says my overachiever tendencies are a great thing in general, but when I let them overrun my ability to see that I am worthy - just as I am, I tear myself down far worse than anyone else ever could. 

And it's hard. Very hard. I've had quite a few experiences, more recently than in my past, where someone has told me that I am not good enough as I am. When that's replayed in my head over and over I simply hear, "I am not worth it. I do not have value outside what I can prove I am able to give. So prove it. If you can't - obviously you don't deserve it." Whatever "it" is. I do not doubt my capabilities to perform, but faith in others to want me just as I am without what I can give them is not a sure thing in my head. 

So, I'm working on it.

On my other blogs that I've had (and not kept up with), I would never have written about this. Never. But, this is a place for me to be myself, to be honest. So, I'm being honest. I'm not perfect, I don't have all the answers, I need help and have asked for it.

I'm finding a way to make sure I know I am worth it. 

I'm the busiest I've ever been...

and that is really saying something.

Currently my life is crazy. Really crazy. It borders on spinning out of control almost all of the time, or at least it feels that way. I'm well versed in juggling commitments - school, work, my personal life. It's something I have spent a long time doing, and trying to find a way to do very well. I like to think I've gotten good at it. I also must admit that I enjoy juggling things. It keeps me busy and honest with myself about organizing my time.

I am driven to not only meet the minimum requirements, but to get the gold star. I'm a bit of a gold star kid. I find stickers extremely motivating. Remind me to tell the story of the sticker club one day :). Anyway, I want to do well at all of the things I possibly can.

This leads me to my point of being extremely busy these days. School has put a lot on my plate this semester. I've got busy classes with more work to do in them than what I've ever had before. Some of it is really great, other parts of it feel a little like busy work. Now, I will say that in the particular class that has a mass quantity of busy work, it is intentional. It's designed so that we have a ton of notes left over for use in studying for the comprehensive exam we have to take at the end of the degree. That doesn't make it any more enjoyable in trenches of said busy work....

Work is utterly exhausting. I am a grad assistant with the Center for Social Justice. I love it. It's a lot of event planning, organizing the different programs we run, working with students, and anything else I'm asked to take care of. All that said, we have several events coming up that are beginning to overwhelm me a tad. We're hosting a conference next week that I'm responsible for logistical execution for, a film screening the following week, The Vagina Monologues the week after (I'm also acting in the production which is great fun, but another level of things to juggle), I'll be co-moderating another event the week after that. Like I said, a lot.

And my personal life... Drew and I chat nightly. He wakes up at 4:30 in the morning in England (10:30pm in good ole Oklahoma) to talk me to sleep every night. This is one of the best parts of my day. He makes me really happy. He also understands me and some of my hangups better than I could have ever hoped for from a partner. We email on and off throughout the day, but getting to see his face and talk with him is the closest we get to crawling in bed together and cuddling. He's coming over for spring break :). I can't wait.

I don't feel like I have much time for a lot of socializing these days. It's kind of tough. I'm a very social person, but between school and work taking up SO much time and SO much energy, things feel rather out of balance in my personal life. Yes, I'm working out four times a week and I'm sure that counts as personal time, but I hate it. It's not actually something I enjoy or really want to do. I need to do it, so I do. I am motivated by the Color me Rad 5K, but as far as seeing it as pleasurable... Heck no.

So, I am going to keep breathing, keep working at this pace, and look forward to a break. It's coming. I can see it on the horizon. I just need to keep some faith and keep reminding myself that it will be ok. It always it.

WhenindoubtDDD, right? Right. 

Today has felt productive

It's only 12:57pm, but it's true. It has felt productive so far. I was up early to get ready for a meeting with a group mate for a class project. We headed over to Barnes and Noble, got our project squared away, and now I've got to do another hour or so of work to get it presentation ready.

Not too shabby since I I've been awake for three hours at this point. I've also eaten lunch. See! Productivity people, productivity.

Now, to re-buckle down. I want to knock out this last piece of the project before I try to talk myself into head over to the gym to get in a run.

That's right, I'm doing the Color Me Rad 5K in OKC this May.

I'm training with a Couch to 5K 8 week running guide. Considering that I'm REALLY out of shape (as in I used to weigh 302 pounds and have lost 58 pounds, but by no means does that mean I'm a skinny minnie), I've modified it to go a little slower with more increments for increasing my running so I don't kill myself on the dang treadmill so I can ease into running over 12 or so weeks instead. I'm finishing up my third week tomorrow. I've gotten in my three workouts a week (though I'm aiming for four) this week doing a two minute run followed by five minutes of walking. I'm always good for the first two goes, but the third round is really hard, and by the fourth, I'm gasping. 

I figure that adding in the fourth workout a week will help me bump up to fitness level, burn a few more calories since I ate half of a BBQ baked potato for lunch, and hopefully make the next level up easier. I'm supposed to jump to a 3 minute run, 4 minute walk on Monday (gasp!) three times a work out three times a week for one week. I'm nervous. Like I already said, I'm dying at the end of my two minutes at a run already. 

I suppose this is where I should remind myself that my blog url is whenindoubtDDD.blogspot.com. Remember: dedication, determination, desire. Yes. That. 

Ok, back to the books, and then to the gym (maybe). 

Update: 5:56 pm.

I have done both. I finished my homework AND went to the gym to run. I'm not sure how well I'm going to handle the bump up to three sets of three minutes next week, but I did my 2 minutes this week. Tomorrow is a day of rest and homework and memorization. Have I mentioned I'm in the Vagina Monologues this year? Because I am :). 

I'm starting another blog...

Hi, my name is Mallory (Hi, Mallory).

I am a perpetual starter and not follow through-er. Well, let me amend that statement. It really only applies to blogs, working out consistently, and taking pictures regularly. Otherwise, I'm pretty consistent on my general follow through. And by pretty consistent, I mean I am ferociously attentive to commitments and making sure I tick the boxes. I also have a tendency to quantify statements. For an example, please reread this paragraph.

So, I'm starting another blog. This one, I hope, will be a place that's less about a theme (like the blog I somewhat successfully tried to keep while living abroad to work on a master's degree that turned out to be utterly useless great for helping me get into another master's program that might actually be useful), and more of a place for me to "talk" through the things going on in my life that are great, frustrating, exciting, draining, and just there.

So, to introduce myself with a little bit more clarity than my first paragraph or two, Hi, my name is Mallory. I'm 25; currently living, working and going to school in Oklahoma; I grew up in Houston, Texas with a set of wonderful, once in a lifetime, friends (who I miss so fiercely it sometimes brings tears to my eyes) I did not fully appreciate until I hit 24; and I'm working my butt off to figure the rest of it out.

These are some things that I'm sure will come up as I write about my life, so I'll put this out there for reference. I'm thoughtful like that, you know.

• I'm training for a 5k in May. 
• I hate running, but I decided this would be a good idea. We'll see how that goes. Please reference the afore mentioned inconsistency with working out.
• I'm also not sure why this was the first thing on my list of things you should know... Yes, you'll hear about it, but is it a vitally important life thing for me? Hmmm, oh to ponder. 
• I'm in my first year of my second master's degree. You will hear all about how that came to be.
• I have a brilliant family who I love deeply. They're sometimes a tough bunch to please. I have always been well loved, but I sincerely believe that no one grows up without a few scars. 
• I especially adore my younger sister. She's kind of my idol. I'm pretty sure she doesn't actually know that, though I try to show her regularly. She really is a rock star, I want to be just like her when I grow up. 
• I'm dating someone significantly older than I am. Yes, he's met the family. No, I'm not sure they approve. 
• He also happens to live in England. Yeah, let me just tell you about long distance relationships...

AND

• I'm a girl filled to the brim with feelings. I have always felt everything stronger than I think most people do. When it's joy or passion or happiness or excitement, I will be the first to cheer you on, to congratulate you, or dive right in ready for an adventure. I'm tenderhearted, but fiercely passionate. When it's the tough stuff, this occasionally causes my eyes to leak (who am I kidding with that - I'm a total crier and have hated this part of myself for a long, long time). This is hard for me because I spent a large chunk of my childhood learning that my sensitivity and ability to feel what other people feel makes me weak. I am currently working to actively change my own mind about this. Being empathetic - sincerely feeling what those around me feel - with a particular sensitivity to disappointment toward me from others and myself, does not make me weak. It occasionally makes me cry, but never weak. Never that. 

My fingers are crossed, and with a little bit of luck, I'll stick this blog through. I hope you'll share in the smiles, tears, fun, and laughter. In the mean time, maybe we can just be friends.

In case I didn't introduce myself before... Hi, my name is Mallory. Nice to meet you.