The end

I have and had made peace with my relationship with my grandfather. So when I got the message from my step-cousin I was concerned but not panicked. My Dad found out from his brother that yes in fact he was dieing. I got the number of the hospice center and after praying about it decided calling would be okay. My grandfather's brain is shrinking and his heart is failing. He can't talk and he doesn't recognize anyone. Kathryn however was cordial. She put the phone up the his ear so I could talk to him. I told him I loved him and that I wasn't afraid of him dieing. I said I knew that where he was going he would be able to find peace, that the Savior could heal his heart of the anguish and misery that he carried around during this mortal life. I told him that I knew that he knew my testimony and that I loved him. I told him that I had five amazing kids, and that they didn't know what he, my father and I knew as children. I told him I broke the chain, that it ended with me. I believe that though he might not have understood my words that he could feel the "spirit" of which I said. I have felt only peace about his being so ill. I did my part and that is all I could do. I know that he can be healed and the hurts he carries. He was not a good father, and not a very good grandfather, but there is a reason. People are not by nature mean, so somewhere in his life something not good happened to foster such negative characteristics in him. I don't know if he has passed and I am not sure if anyone will tell me, but as I said before I am at peace and hopeful for what lies ahead for him in the eternities.

Part II

15 years ago today (may 26) I left Texas and moved to St. George, Utah. I believed my grandfather to be on "my side" and left boxes of my stuff at his home. Here is a bit of irony. Because of the nature by which my grandfather lived I know that no one ever touched my boxes. I am sure he found with in this another opportunity to one up some one, namely my mother. You see those two were and are like gang members; loyal until is was profitable to be unloyal. My mom wanted my stuff. She wanted to dig through it and claim what she felt was rightly hers. I am not sure what she would have done with one of my Caboodles, or my old Cabbage patch puffy stickers, or old notes from high school, but she wanted it I do know. He would eventually mail the boxes to me in Utah.

I remember one phone conversation later that fall in 1995 when I was asking for help in purchasing a vehicle. I was wondering if he would match the money I had saved so I could buy a car. Oh the reasons he had has to why he could not help me, despite me reminding him that he said that he would help me financially if I ever needed it. (I needed about $700 more to buy a beater car) He had once proclaimed that he knew my parents were incapable of being there for me so he would be. Liar. If you are wondering why I ever believed him in the first place. At the time I did not know what I know now. My whole life was lies and manipulation, so I really didn't know how at the time to tell the difference. And I was so desperate for some kind of support that I trusted what he said. He basically told me in that conversation that I was on my own. That there would be no money. Not even $20. That he had learned how to survive with out anyone and so could I. Despite such a resolute remark or statement from him I continued to call. Hoping that at some point he would see my predicament and help me. I think outside of needed financial help I wanted love. My mom hated me, my dad was at his height of insanity, and my grandpa was aloof to any one's needs but his own. They were all I had, so I called hoping that one day they would see me.

That is how it went for so many years. I did move back to Texas for a few months. The abuse or neglect wasn't really any different except that it was face to face instead of over the phone. One evening particularly sticks out in my mind. I had stopped by my mom's to get some of my stuff from my sister. My grandfather was there. Mom was not going to let me leave with the box, even though she knew it was mine. Her argument was that it was in her house so anything in it belonged to her. He stood in the door way preventing me from opening the front door while she spit in my face and screamed at me. She tried to take the box and I fought for it. They threatened to call the cops and tell them I had broken in and was trying to steal stuff. They said some pretty awful stuff about me as a person and how I deserved all that I had gotten in life. I truly feared for my life. I don't know what let them allow me to leave but eventually they did. Not with out threats and a few fun words tossed in.

I eventually moved back to Utah (1997). This time I didn't call anyone for a long time. Eventually though I did call. It was the same ol' same ol'. "Well Andi, your mother....." "and your father....." "and can you believe....".

In 1998 I took over payments on a friends car. She got pregnant which for some reason made her a little crazy. One day when driving to lunch there was this Nissan Pathfinder that was following me. It scared me a bit so I tried to lose it. I pull up to a light thinking it was gone and this girl, lets call her Crazy Lady, comes out of no where and jumps on the hood of the car and starts screaming at me. I know she is prego so I don't drive off. Eventually she calms down and asks to talk. I am so naive at this point in my life and so I unlock the car door. She jumps in and starts kicking me and screaming for me to get out. Again I know she is pregnant and had already had a miscarriage so I don't kick back. I tried to push her off but it is a little hard when her size nines were in my face. A face that I liked and didn't really want smashed in. So I get out and grab my stuff as quick as I can. She opens the trunk and lets me take out the rest. Okay here is where I am the bad guy. I removed the newly updated registration sticker I had just paid for. So there I am standing in the middle turn lane somewhere around 21st south in Salt Lake with all my stuff. Some guys from work stopped and offered a ride. My head was seriously spinning. After that Crazy Lady proceeded to call my grandfather and tell her I had stolen her car and a million other things that weren't true. My grandfather being the honest man he isn't, gave her numbers of other people in East Texas who might be interested in this information. I didn't know she had called him. She called me and said she was going to sue me for the miles I had put on her car. Now I had made the car payments, but she was going to sue for the miles???? I attract crazy people :) I called my grandfather for advice. He told me to "pull up my boot straps", that "the truth will come out". She calls me one night to ask me why I had not registered the car. Well I had, I told her, she said "no you didn't the DMV has no record.' I was thinking sweet revenge, maybe only $100 revenge but revenge non the less. I begin to tell her that I talked to my grandfather and she interrupts and tells me that she has as well. She tells me when, and that he assured her that she would have his full cooperation in getting me to pay her the thousands of dollars she was sure she deserved. I felt like someone had kicked me in the teeth. Seriously? Does the betrayal never end?

The sheriff's department got involved and once they heard my side of story, along with my bank statements showing I had paid, and my boyfriend's story, she was told that if she harassed me again that she would be arrested.

Needless to say it would be many more years before my grandfather would hear my voice on the other line. It wasn't until 2001 after I had Aspen. I wanted him to know he had a great granddaughter. My mom didn't care and I wasn't talking to my dad so I reached out to him. He and Kathryn sent her gifts. We exchanged pleasantries. The correspondence was infrequent. I would go months before calling. They never called. It wasn't until one therapy session that I ever realized that I did all the calling. I called when Alora was born. And then I hit rock bottom.

I was so depressed after her birth that I did good to wake up and shower. I didn't think about him. I was working towards a healing.

The Lord revealed to me that in order for me to be healed I had to forgive my father, my mother and my uncle. Hard thing to do. But I did, to the best of my abilities. That September as I knelt in prayer, my Savior healed me. He came to me and healed me. He removed the ugly scars associated with years of endless abuse.

I don't remember when I finally told my grandfather of my healing. He is not a religious man so the whole story meant nothing to him. Almost the instant I told him of my miracle he dismissed it and began again with the same ol' lies and manipulation. I called him after we had our son. He knew I had begun correspondence with my father. He told me that he could have nothing to do with me if I was having anything to do with him. After that phone call I prayed mightily to know what to say to him.

I wrote my grandfather a letter. I told him again of my healing. I shared with him my testimony of our Savior Jesus Christ. I told him I knew the Book of Mormon was true. I shared with him my testimony of the power of forgiveness, and the opportunity it gives us to see others through the Lord's eyes. I poured out my heart to him with love. I told him however that I would not be told who I could or could not communicate with. I told him I loved him and I knew that he knew that.

I called to make sure he had received the letter. His remarks were as before. So we parted our ways.

My Grandfather Part I

Last Thursday I got probably the most random message on facebook. It read: I'm writing you ONLY because I think you have the right to know. Hospice was called in yesterday for your grandfather. If you want to know anything else you can call my grandmother. I did not recognize the name so I called my dad to inquire (that is a fun word to say) as to whether or not he knew who it was. He said it was my step cousin. My grandparents divorced when I was a baby and then both remarried. My grandfather's new wife was actually the former wife of my grandmother's new husband. You might have to read that again :) It's another one those "stories". Anyway. So his new wife, Kathryn, had one daughter, and that daughter had a daughter...Rachelle, and that is who contacted me on facebook.

I have not spoken to my grandfather in years. Not by my choice. I don't recall verbatim our last conversation, but I do remember the gist of it. I had just recently begun talking with my father after ten years and my grandfather was not happy about it. My grandfather hates my dad. Yes I said "hates". That is a strong word here my house, but truly it is how he feels. When my dad was just about 6 years old my grandfather told him, "I have never really liked you." He basically went on to tell him he probably never would. In fact for the rest of my father's life, his father would literally seek out opportunities to sabotage him. One example: my dad had a motorcycle that he had purchased, on his way out the door one day he asked his dad to either take it in or mail his payment check to the dealer. Instead, my grandfather tore the check up. Tangent: that was the kind of stuff my mom would do. He was also very physically abusive towards my father.

As a child I remember not seeing my grandfather for years and then one day them being at our house. I remember the feeling of having them there, I knew my parents were walking on egg shells. I could sense even at a young age that at any moment something might go wrong and things could get ugly. For awhile we weren't "allowed" to come to their house, like there was some kind of test my parents had to pass to be able too. Maybe that is why I have a bad taste for the "boxes" that society places on us. I don't do clicks, I have never been a "club" person, or ever had anything to do with things that exclude people socially. I won't walk that line.

I remember my parents conversations, arguments really, about my grandfather. My mom didn't like him for so long. My dad wanted to try to have a relationship with him. I can empathise with that. I am sure he longed to have his dad love him, so he went to extraordinary lengths to try to attain something that was not to be.

When my dad was going through his crazy time my grandfather was all of sudden there for us. My dad is bi-polar but he didn't know that twenty years ago. He went to a psychiatrist because he felt depressed so they put him on prozac. Well a bi-polar on prozac is like a 3 year old with no nap living off of pixy sticks times 1000. Toss in emotional imbalances including rage, resulting from a rotten childhood and you get my dad. They started him out at a low dose and for the next few years upped the dosage which only made his life and ours worse. It was during that time that my father sexually abused me. He was very violent and scary. He was abusive to us all. Scary abusive. That was when I would sleep with my Book of Mormon, I knew it would protect me.

I know now that the reason my grandfather made his sudden rescue appearance into our lives was because there was some sick validation he found in having a son out of control. It wasn't about his love for us.

When my mother kicked me out my freshman year to bring my dad home from the psych ward my grandfather took me in. His job was to convince me that the abuse never happened. He and my mom were now the best of friends. They both would corner me and rant about how I made it all up and how I would not be allowed to ruin our family with my lies. I was told if I ever brought it up again I would be shipped away from my family. What was interesting is that they were the ones bringing it up everyday, reminding me not to bring it up. Crazy!!

Over the next four years of my life my grandfather's role was to support my mother. They relished in my father's psychological decline. Instead of helping him, they degraded him, manipulated him, and made up lies about him. Looking back I realize that they found great satisfaction even happiness in my father's weaknesses. He was losing his mind, and they sat back and watched enjoying every moment.

I was reminded over and over by my grandfather of the awfulness of my father. He would even go so far as to betray my mother and reveal her lies and manipulations in regards to my dad and us kids. That was a heavy load to carry as a child. And then he would turn his evil ways on me and in a manipulative way that there really is no definition for, convince me of how awful I was, and how I really was the reason my parents marriage was falling apart.

It is important to me that it is understood that I am not depressed. When I described feeling lonely earlier, it is my longing for a mother, for a family. I have been so blessed with an amazing husband who does love me. I have beautiful children who I get to love and who love me as their mother. I have been blessed with friends a long the way that loved me. I only wish I had been in a better "place" emotionally to allow myself to be loved. I so often wondered if at some moment their friendships and love would be gone, that I never stayed in the moment long enough to feel it. I believe that there is a great law of compensation. I know that though I missed out on years of being loved and feeling loved, and now that I am allowing my heart to be open and to feel love, the Lord can compensate. I don't know how he will do it, but I know that he will "send" wonderful people, maybe even those I already know, to fill that physical void. I love this journey I have been on. I love how the Lord has almost daily worked miracles in my life healing me from all that I went through as a child. I would never wish any of my life to have happened any other way. I know my Savior so intimately because of how I have had to rely on him. I know what I know because of all that I have endured. A trial less life is one with out reward. Through our trials we have an opportunity to grow and to witness the hand of the Lord. What a beautiful thing!!

I had the wonderful opportunity of visiting with a childhood friend yesterday. All day. Like until 3 in the morning all day. I have known her since I was 12. We moved from Pine Tree to Spring Hill. Means nothing to so many, unless you lived in Longview Texas. We moved school districts. We moved from a gicantica school district to one that the whole campus from K-12 fit on one "lot". I graduated with 82 people, that should give you an idea.

I don't remember how I met Tiffany Autumn Barton. I do remember how she made me feel. She was kind to me. Not that fake 'your the new kid so I will be nice to you' kinda nice. She was real. I remember how badly I wanted to be her friend for life. I loved talking to her because I felt like she actually heard what I said.

You see I was a little...okay a lot...awkward in school. I was always nervous. I was afraid of being wrong. I was scared to talk to anyone. I just felt weird inside. I was in athletics with "T" as she was affectionately referred to as. She was better than me though at almost everything, except that I wasn't too bad at track. Volleyball and basketball were so not my thing. In fact last night I was telling her how I spent most of basketball season with my fingers wrapped because they were always jammed.

We both had braces. She got hers off first. I wanted my teeth to be as pretty as hers :) Luckily I think my turned out pretty good.

So much of those years is a blur. We moved houses just after 8th grade. My family ended up moving just a street over from Tiffany's. I could see her house just across the field behind us. I wanted to be a part of her world. Her parents were so kind. They loved her and it showed. They were and still are a very peaceful family.

If my mom let me out of the house with anyone it was Tiffany. So all my high school social memories include her. My mom would always call Tiffany's mom to see what time she had to be home. It was the same time every time. 11:30PM I believe. What I loved about being with Tiffany was that you could feel that she felt safe being a kid. I was there when she had done something, minor, but against her mother's wishes, and was witness to her mother's disciplining. Tiffany was in trouble but her mother had such love and compassion towards her. I wanted that woman to be my mom. Sometimes I envisioned myself running to her arms so that she could hold me. I wanted a mom to hold me and love me.

When I moved away from Texas I made a point of contacting Tiffany. As I write I remember feeling so at home when I talked with her on the phone. It was what I ever imagined it might feel like in a real family. I moved back to Texas for a year and yes I found Tiffany. We actually ended up working together. I remember one day her mom coming in to see her at the store and I had dressed a little nicer that day for work. My nails were painted Ferrari red and I had on a newer outfit. Her mom told me how beautiful I looked. It was so sincere, so loving. I melted in that moment. Again I wanted to hug her. I wanted to beg her to be my mom, because my mom never told me I looked beautiful, she only told me what was wrong with me. I was 19 at the time but I felt like a 5 year old in that moment, longing for a mommy hug. I would stay sometimes with Tiff and her husband in their oh so tiny but homey apartment. She was so kind to me. She took care of me and I was starved for that nurturing. I eventually moved back to Utah and I don't remember how much I kept in contact, but I did. And over these past ten years since being married I have kept in contact with her. Every time we have been able to meet in person we have been able to just pick-up where we left off.

That is how it was yesterday. There was an emotion I experienced though I was not however prepared for. Almost upon entering the door way to her sisters home I felt this release. I suddenly just wanted to break down and cry. I wanted her to stay here, or to bring me back to Texas with her.

We talked. And we talked. And we talked. It was and has always been so easy for me to talk to her. I feel safe with her. I feel okay to be me. I feel at home with her. We didn't solve any world problems but the talking was so therapeutic. I think too it helped how much we laughed. Tiffany is a laugher :) She doesn't take herself or life too seriously.

When I finally departed finally in the wee hours of the morning, I felt so sad. I didn't want to go. I didn't want her to go. I cried as I drove home, and the down pouring of rain helped the tears fall faster. As I cried I asked myself what is about her that had created such an emotion. Almost in that instant I realized it and to myself, "She sees me". And the flood gates opened.

I don't have a mother. I did not get the affection so necessary as an infant, child, adolescent or adult. In that moment I realized how lonely I feel. How I long for someone to love me. Familial love. Really I need love and affection that will make up for lost time. I prayed while I cried. I told heavenly Father how I wanted to feel loved. He can love me, and I can feel that through the spirit, which I so often do. But I want hugs. Lots and lots of hugs. I don't want to wonder if someone likes me, even if it is a supposed understood. I want them to tell me over and over and over again. The Lord knows my needs and he always provides. So one day someone or some oneS will come along and they will be inspired and they will hug me and they will love me just the way that I need it. And it will be through them that Lord is able to answer my prayer and to fill my physical void.

I am grateful to have been blessed with a friend like Tiffany. Someone who helps my heart feel at home. I am even more grateful that I was able to visit with her and her sister yesterday. Though it exposed emotion, it was also a very healing experience. Evidence for me once again of the hand of the Lord.

Okay I think we are officially back in business. Boy was that a tricky one. Definitely not my favorite. I was never miserable, just annoyed! I mean seriously the sight of jell-o makes me shudder. The pain really wasn't too bad except for when it was :) Really there were about two days there that I literally could not swallow. I hate liquid Lortab. Its evil. It tastes awful. It makes me a weird looping tired. I would talk or moan in my sleep Ray said. The first few days I could not open my mouth. One day I used a flash light to "peek" on my incision. Oh gosh I almost dropped the flashlight it looked so scary. I didn't look again for a good week :) I had seen more than enough. I finally brushed my teeth on like Thursday, out of necessity because things had moved into my mouth and were setting up camp for Memorial day weekend. It hurt so bad to pry my mouth open, and I couldn't spit I just had let it fall out of my mouth. I can do pain, so I never was sad or despondent...more annoyed really and frustrated at times because I just wanted to be able to communicate with out writing everything down, and I was so hungry. Every day though I woke up determined to have a positive attitude. One day I wrote in my journal that everything I needed to know about recovering from surgery I learned from having five c-sections. First thing. Shower, fix your hair, and put mascara on everyday now matter how you feel, and use really yummy smelling soap and lotion. Second brush your teeth and use mouth wash that makes your mouth tingle. There is something about that tingling feeling that makes you feel clean all over. Third, get dressed in something you feel cute in but that is comfortable. Never mind that you will sleep all day, who says you can't feel cute while you are sleeping. Fourth keep fun fresh smells all around you. Fifth. Get outside. Even if it is for only ten minutes, the fresh air will do wonders for your mind and body. Sixth. Read your scriptures and pray everyday. Even if you read only a verse, at least open up that book and make an effort to connect to the scriptures. And it is imperative for your exhausted and stressed mind that you have communication with the Lord. He can open your mind and help you to see how to make the best of your recovery. Seven. Under no circumstances do you complain. Yes surgery bites the big one. It is a given. Talking about how awful it is will do you no good. Find the blessings in your momentary trial. There have been studies done on the affects of a PMA (positive mental attitude) in the recovery process. I shall at some point look it up for you, but I think you would agree that anything and everything is just that much better when you look on the bright side. So everyday I listed in my journal the blessings the Lord had extended to me. The recovery was hard, not my favorite, but the Lord gave me so much. I received incredible insights to my life, empowering and motivating ones. I was the recipient of service from wonderful women in my church. I had time to reflect on my life, where I have been and where I am now and where I am going. I had the opportunity to count my blessings through out my life. It wasn't until today that I could talk pain free. It was quite appropriate really because today was my sister-in-laws birthday. So for her present I called her :) And I have a new nephew who was just born today. He is the 20th grand child for Mom and Dad Griffin. They have 7 kids and the last gets married in July. I am expecting lots more babies for this family!! And in case you were wondering yes I want more. I love having babies!! I love being a mother. A friend once commented, " I bet you have like 12 kids". Oh if only! My gut says that I will have only one more. I will just have to see what the Lord has planned for our family after that. So life is good. Really good. I am on my elliptical again :) As I write actually. I look forward to starting up my p90x tomorrow. I am actually ordering another work out program this week as well. It is called Insanity. Go to beachbody.com to check it out. One of my goals is to be athletic. I could work out at gym and get weight lifting strong but I want to be athletic strong. Don't get me wrong. I so love the gym. But there so many other ways to work as well. This Insanity is you against your body. Basically you against your mind. That is my favorite kind of stuff. I love that moment when your body is screaming at you to quit and you have to dig down to that part of you that can push a little further that go can go a little harder. Oh and by the by I only lost five lbs. Bummer. I mean seriously I was only eating 500 kcals a day. Really that is probably why I didn't lose any more. My body doesn't do starvation diets. I never could, any time I lost weight in the past it was because I over worked out, I would spend hours at the gym. Not good. Because you can't really sustain that, and it isn't good for your body. I mean I can drop my calories down to 1200 and lose, but 500 is starvation. You need 1200 a day to live, to function at normal capacity. Anywho that is a post for another day wouldn't you say :) Oh it feels good to be alive. It feels great to be me again.

I believe in Christ. I know he lives. I know he is the redeemer of the world. I know that he truly suffered so that we might be able to repent and return to live with him and our Heavenly Father. I know the gospel is true. I know the scriptures are true and it is by reading them that we grow, receive inspiration and feel the spirit and love our of Father in heaven. I know that our Savior will one day return this earth that he helped create and that he will rule and reign. I love the gospel. I love that is my life line and the one true constant in my life. I love how the church is set up here on this earth and how it is evidence everyday of the hand of the Lord. I love prayer. I love going to the temple. I love the opportunity we have to forget ourselves in service. I love that ulimately it is our choices that determines where we are spiritually. I love that we have to work hard in the gospel. I love what I get to learn when I go through trials. I love that learning is the most important thing to the Lord. We came here to learn and he is there to facilitate that learning. I love that I can have the spirit with me at all times if I live righteously. I love that inspiration is mine to recieve and not reserved for some man in a foreign land. I love that the Lord is personal, that he answers my prayers according to my needs. I love that there is an eternity for me to continue to grow because I have a long way to go :) I love it all and I am grateful for it all. I hope to one day meet my Savior, to hug him and tell him thank you for it all. Thank you for loving me despite all of my incredible weaknesses. Thank you for hurting so that you could better understand my hurt, and so that you could literally take it away. Thank you for being my Savior and my friend.

My tonsils are officially gone. Those and my adenoids. The doc told Ray that infection oozed from them when he removed them. Such a great image. Well guess that answers the question of whether or not the surgery was a good idea. I am drugged so I am can't make any promises to how coherent this post will be. The recovery isn't as bad as I thought. With that said it isn't my favorite either. It is like having really really really bad strep throat. I can't talk. I can't brush my teeth. I can't eat, well I slurp eat because I can't really open my mouth. And I definitely can't sleep. I have made it through day 2 though and I am hopeful that I will continue to make it through other days. The doc said it gets worse right before the scabs (such a yucky word) come off. I have asked the Lord to be merciful and to spare me any vomiting or excruciating pain. I can do discomfort and maybe some pain, but excruciating is where I draw the line. The Lord in my blessing on Monday night said that my recovering would be quick and that it would not be as I have heard so many say it is. I believe him. I am not so naive to think I will feel nothing, but I believe that he can bless me so that the pain or discomfort is doable. He, the Lord, always tells me if I am going to need to pull up my bootstraps, and that isn't what he said, so I am grateful. When I have a bit more of my wits about me I will have to divulge the whole probably really boring story. But every one loves a good ol' boring surgery story, especially about oozing tonsils!!

Tomorrow at 11:15 Am I report for my tonsillectomy. I have been so stressed. I mentioned to a friend today that I think the stress comes from a desire to control the situation. I like to be in control of my life. I am not the best with the unknown. I cried myself to sleep last night, and will probably again tonight. Watch it not be as bad I imagine :) I am grateful to my sisters-in-law for being willing to help out with kids this week. And especially grateful to a neighbor who will get my daughter ready for her dance pics. I think it would be almost comical if I were to try to get Alora ready for her pictures. I am grateful in advance to those in my ward who will be making meals for my family. Oh see here come the tears again. I think there is something wrong with me. Can stress really make one this emotional? The tears are good tears. I am just grateful for the blessing of great friends and extended family. I have good neighbors. I should tell them more often.

So I "cheated". I ate Burger Kind today. I don't know why. It was gross actually, but good in that wonderful comfort food way. My last caloric indulgence for a couple of weeks :) Which brings me to something I am excited about. I will be training one of my neighbors. I am excited to work with her and even more excited at the results I know she will have. I was studying last night and passed two quizzes with 100%. I just love what I am learning. I am looking into going to BYU. First I would do the at home study program and then in a year or so when we move down there I would go on campus for other classes. One of the things I am looking forward to is actually being able to pronounce the names of muscles the right way and being able to ask questions face to face with a teacher (nerd... :) I know) I have really enjoyed my studies of the muscular anatomy of our body. It is incredible, truly Divine, the way in which our body works.

Wish me luck and say a prayer for me that my nerves will calm down. Thank again to my family and my wonderful neighbors. You are a blessing to me and I am grateful for you!!!

In one week I have lost 1% percent body fat. Since Arwyn stopped nursing almost two months ago I have lost 2.3% body fat. That my friends is how it is done. :) I don't know that just sounded fancy to say. Really though, the scale can say that you have lost five pounds, but if you didn't lose 5lbs of body fat then the likely hood of you gaining it back is greater. I put on a pair of jeans today that I haven't worn since baby Ray was born. There was a difference this time though. When I lost my weight after baby Ray it was because I pushed myself too hard, too fast. It wasn't permanent. It was truly only momentary. I know how to lose weight AND keep it off now.

You hear those kinds of things on TV. I never believed it. I don't know that I ever really KNEW that I would find a way to lose weight and still be able to keep from gaining it all back, I just hoped that the Lord did. There is so much I didn't understand about working out, eating right and taking care of yourself mentally and spiritually.

I went to Chili's today. And Cold Stone. The old me would still eat dinner tonight even though I was full. The old me would feel obligated to eat because there was this emotional void that I didn't realize I was trying to fill with food. I don't have to do that anymore. I am okay not eating again because I AM really full from my food. To lose weight it isn't about starvation. It is about moderation. Now I don't eat out a lot anymore because eating out IS NOT healthy, but it sure is fun. Tomorrow and on, well until our next date in a couple of weeks, I will go back to my "normal" way of eating. 6 times a day with lots of proteins and vegges and fruit.

In dysfunctional families there is a "law" taught with out any notice amongst the members. It is referred to as black and white thinking. I suffered from that as well in regards to food. Somewhere in my brain it was recorded that to be thin I had to starve and be miserable. So NOT true! You CAN enjoy food and lose weight. You just can't eat the whole box of macaroni and cheese anymore. You can live and lose weight. Weight loss does not have to be torture. There are moments when it is uncomfortable because you have to change habits, but all things worth having require sacrifice and change.

Everything I have learned during my weight loss journey has come from my Father in Heaven. He has literally taken me by the hand and taught me through others. There were times when I just felt like I was swinging at my goal in the dark, but he knew all along where he was taking me. I remember when Alexa was born and I was faced with a 60lb weight loss. I told the Lord I didn't want to yo-yo anymore. I didn't want to crash diet only to gain it all back. I shared with him my goal of being toned, and in shape. I wanted to eat with out having to obsess over every calorie. I wanted to find balance with my body and my mind so that it would not be a life long struggle. It has been a long almost 3 years this June. But the things I have learned are permanent. He has blessed me to be able to not only lose my weight, but to get in shape and to learn how to have that mind/body balance. He has helped me accomplish my goals and then some.

There are still things I want to accomplish, more body fat I would like to shed. I want to be able to do pull-ups and push-ups. I would love to teach fitness classes at some point. I really would love to start a beginners boot-camp. The great thing is that I can continue and do continue to share with the Lord my goals. I know that he wants me to be successful, and I know that he can help me along my way. There is no better friend than the Lord, and I am grateful for Him.