Breaking up is hard to do

I've rehearsed the speech over and over in my mind.   I've looked in the mirror.   I've researched.  I've read.  I've cried.  I've sworn.   I've walked away, but came back for more time and again.  

No more.

The time has finally come for me to speak up for myself and take a stand once and for all.   The time has come for a real, live break-up.  

Here goes nothing.

It's not you; it's me.   Okay, no.  It's you.  It's totally you.   It's always been you.  You are a liar.  You build me up one day just to let me down the next.  I swear you're the most bipolar, unpredictable, unreliable measure of my self-worth that I've ever let have such a hold on me.   This time I'm walking away.   I will not let you tear me down any longer.  I will not let you dictate my mood.  I will not let you cloud my judgement about who I am anymore.

Do you want to know why?   Because I AM beautiful.   Inside and out, I'm a beautiful, strong, capable, loving, AMAZING woman!  I will climb to the tallest mountain and scream it again and again.  I'm worth it!  I'm good.   I'm great.   I'm pretty.   I'll even stand in front of a mirror and repeat those same words over and over again until I finally believe it MYSELF.  

Yes, I'm more than you tell me that I am.   I'm more.  

That's right, scale.   I'm more than what you tell me my relationship with gravity is.   I'm more than how much water I'm retaining, my body fat percentage, how many grams of protein I need, and DEFINITELY more than just a number.   I'm done with you.  

At least for now.  

Folks, I've always known that the scale does not give a complete picture of my health, however, I've remained enslaved to those numbers for years!!   I weigh in to start a "diet."  I weigh in to see how that "diet" is doing.  I weigh in to start a workout regime.   I weigh in to monitory my progress in my workouts.   I weigh in when I wake up.  I weigh in before I lie down.   Heck, I'd weigh nearly every time I walked into or out of the bathroom!

Somehow, even though I've preached and preached the gospel that "diets" don't work, but that lifestyle changes are where it's at, I've never quite reach any of my goals.   Something's not quite adding up.

Not too long ago, I got the genius idea to put my scale next to my fridge in order to deter poor food choices.   It kind of worked, but not really.   You see, I really didn't lose much, and I definitely never felt better about myself or my health and well-being.   My smallest child loved having it there, but never could figure out quite how to stand in order to get it to read.  He tried jumping on it.  He tried standing on his head on it.   He even tried bouncing it off of the floor!   The only thing he succeeded in was breaking the thing!   It started giving us crazy readings, and that's when I realized what a hold it had on me.   I would see ridiculously high or unbelievably low numbers that I KNEW were not realistic, but I would feel an instantaneous moment of dispair or exuberance regardless.   It was in those moments I realized that I was going to have to walk away, but this time it would have to be for good.  

I will stay away from this long-standing relationship for as long as I need to.   The breaking of the scale made it easier, and digging deep inside is going to make it stick.   I'm vowing to myself, my health, and my readers that I will not be weighing myself until I've dropped at least two pants sizes, and I will NEVER again let it have the control over my self-worth, health, and well being that I've let it hold over me in the past.

And that, friends, is my break-up story.   Feel free to join me.  It's very liberating.

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Drinking the Kool-aid

I hate MLMs.   I do, I really do.   I hate seeing my social media feeds filled with pictures that say nothing of true value other than "BUY THIS MAGIC THAT YOU CAN ONLY GET FROM ME!"  However, if you have known me for very long, you might question that statement.   You see, I cannnot think of a MLM product that I haven't tried or contemplated trying.   Mary Kay?  Avon?  Metabolife?  It Works? Advocare?  Pampered Chef?  Need I go on?   Not only have I tried all of those, but I've probably signed up to be a distributor for most of them!   I must be the textbook definition of insane, because I keep trying the same thing over and over again.

And, once again, I'm drinking someone else's Kool-Aid.   I am not expecting a miracle.  I'm not expecting to wake up thin, happy, and running marathons while looking like a super model.   Really, I just want to FEEL better.  I want to buy that pie-in-the-sky sales pitch that I'll have more energy, sleep better, and just feel better as a human being.   I know that supplements can help in that wellness feeling, so I'm hoping, yet again, that this supplement is the best combo out there.

And I almost hate myself for buying into yet another pyramid.  I won't be posting pictures and links and stories.  I won't be holding sales and contests for free samples.  In fact, I'm surprised I'm blogging about it.   I am going to document my trial with it, though, if  for nothing else, to remind me why not to spend my hard-earned money the next time the snake oils salesman dressed as a friend or family member comes knocking on my door.

Day 1.   Within 30 minutes, I felt a slight ZING! of mild energy.  I didn't feel restless, but I didn't feel ready to sprint down the road either.   I just felt something like a mild jolt.  I hadn't slept well the night before, so I was still dragging just a little, but I definitely felt something.  Day 2 felt about the same.   Day 3?  A little better.   I kept going for a couple of weeks, and truly, I felt GREAT!   No jitters, no jolt, just even, clean energy.  

But like all things that seem too good to be true, this great feeling faded in just about a week's time.   I still use some of the products, but I am not married to the ritual anymore.   I DEFINITELY won't be spending the $200 or so a month that it would cost to maintain the regimen.   I think the energy that others glean from it is from the direct deposits they get from signing their friends on more than it is from the product or combination of products themselves.

I don't hate this company or any other MLM, but I do hate the MLM structure.  If it works for you and you can legitimately build up a client base and take care of your customers in an honest way, then awesome!  This direct sales business is for you.   However, don't try to sign me on, please.   It is just not for me.   I'll buy some things from you now and then, but I will also buy your competitor's products.   I will also buy similar, lower-priced, products from, *GASP* the store!!!

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Stay Tuned.....

Okay, I've missed blogging. I'm not sure why I got away from it, because writing is something that I've always enjoyed.  I keep journals, update on facebook, and I even tweet now and then.  I take way too many pictures and I'm full of opinions.  Plenty to write about, I'm sure.

I think I stepped back from this blog because it became a place that I only wrote about weight.  Weight lost.  Weight gained.   Weight prison.  Self-esteem.  All of the posts had a related theme for quite some time, and to be honest, it even bored me!

So I will blog about my mundane, everyday, somewhat boring life.  I'll write about my adventures with children, adventures with friends, marriage, party planning ideas, travels, wants, needs, and probably a little diet stuff, too.

I will write again.  I will.  And maybe I'll even update this layout.  Stay tuned!

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Evolution of beliefs

I'm going to share a bit more with you, dear readers, about where I came from and where I'm going.

We currently live in a little rural town with a population of about 2500. I'm quite certain that there are many, many more cows than people, and the nearest Walmart or other "big box" store is over 85 miles away. I work full time from home, so I do get to feeling isolated at times. We've tried connecting with community churches, and it just hasn't clicked... It's difficult to explain, but I'm sure some of y'all get it.

My parents divorced when I was 12, and our family went through quite a tumultuous time while all the dust settled, and in a single year I had gone to seven different schools, and finally landed with my dad and stepmom, who were both functioning alcoholics at the time -- though I'm not quite certain how they functioned on as much as they consumed daily. I left my biological brother and sister behind with my mom in western Kansas. At the time, my stepmom was fighting for custody of her kids, and her attorney advised becoming members of a local church -- it'd look good to the judge. On their third visit, they were radically saved, came home and dumped out all of their alcohol, and haven't touched a drop since.

Those first years of their new salvation was a period of definite black or white, and a severe adjustment for me as a 13, almost 14-year-old girl getting ready to start high school. I had just moved from a home that I basically was in charge of, functioning as a very immature, but responsible "adult" member in that household. My only social outlet then became church, and even then it was heavily policed. I wasn't allowed to drive, date, wear skirts or shorts above my knee, ride with teenaged drivers, listen to secular music, play high school sports, etc etc etc. This all was mostly fine with me, considering the life I left behind when I moved from my mom's was one I was not proud of.  

And although I can't tell you my exact "spiritual birthday," I do know that I fell completely in love with the God of the universe during this time as well.

I went to an AG bible college for a year after high school to placate my dad. Even though they were not financially contributing at all, it was their "requirement" that I attend a Christian school my first year away from home, and TCU (my first choice) was too secular. I tried out for and subsequently joined the campus traveling drama ministry team, but struggled with a lot of things that I just couldn't wrap my logical brain around while there. I attended one year, and that was it for me.

That summer, I moved in with a family member near the school, and began to officially stretch my wings. My parents were pretty sure I had backslidden all the way into the pits of hell, so when I moved back in with them around Christmas time, it was a very tense and stressful situation.

Things got yucky shortly thereafter, and I ended up moving in with a friend from church and her mom. Then to the friend's boyfriend's house. I soon realized that the boyfriend and his crowd weren't the best circle to run with, and after I ended up in the emergency room with a concussion, my mom in the western KS/eastern CO area and I mended fences and she helped me get up to CO so that I could officially get on my feet.

I never used my return plane ticket home to Louisiana.

Cut to today. My mom and I are good, but the relationship never became a conventional mother/daughter relationship. We're definitely close, but she's not overly maternal, and most of the time I've accepted that that's okay.  She's a wonderful person with a kind heart, and I've enjoyed getting to know her again, as adults.

My dad and stepmom have grown so much in their faith, as a family, and as human beings. They have left the brick and mortar institution of church, and now host and attend small group type meetings in their homes and home of their friends. Their love for the Lord is pure and beautiful, and I would never in a million years question their faith. I've been hopeful and interested in forming some kind of similar connection where we've been planted in eastern CO, but it just hasn't happened yet, and I suppose it could be for a myriad of reasons. I'm currently struggling with feeling as though I/we don't quite fit in, in our rural agricultural community or any local churches. I'm feeling a pull that maybe God wants to plant us somewhere else, but I'm unsure how that logistically will work out. I do know that if it's in the cards for us, it'll happen as long as we're here to enjoy the ride.

My faith has continuted to evolve over the years, but I would say that my journey started with a simple yet profound revelation - I serve a god who *IS* love, whose greatest commandment is to love, and if he is actual L-O-V-E, then he loves his creation enough to reveal himself in anyway we'll listen. That's definitely too big of a concept to fit neatly into my little Christian shaped box.

Of course, that doesn't mean that he CAN'T fit into that christian-shaped box that I'm comfortable with, but it definitely excludes man-made limits from that grace and love. Who am I to say that if someone else has met the God who *IS* love through another avenue, that we both aren't being loved by the same God? My God is big enough to be anything to anyone at any time, and just because Jesus is my way, truth, and life, doesn't mean that someone else's spiritual path is wrong.

Needless to say, that's not exactly an accept belief system in the parameters of the modern day christian church... I have one friend from my very active A/G days who seems to promote a similar belief system. ONE. I've shared my thought process with a few along the way, but it hasn't been embraced. I'm sure I'm on a few prayer lists for my back-slidden, new-age, wordly ways. Haha.

I've also struggled some with churches in our area because although I want to raise my children with similar biblical foundations, I don't want to teach them complete judgement and rejection of any other human, regardless of life path and belief system.

There were several things I was taught to reject and judge as a young christian, that as I grew older and experienced more life, was put into a position of making choices that I would have most definitely judged in my more formative years. Choices that caused close family members to reject me for a period of my life. Choices that did not change me or who I am as a person and certainly never discounted my value or worthiness of LOVE. I don't want to raise my children with that kind of blindness. I have had close friends make choices to be who they feel they are, and I was judged for NOT judging them and loving them anyway. That's just not okay with me either.

So, there's a little glimpse into my current spiritual journey.

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Remembering the bullies

Today I was laughing with Zela at some of the silly things that kids will pick on one another about.  Last week she wore a pair of blingy blue jeans that apparently are missing a couple of studs or rhinestones off of the back pockets.  Some girls were pointing it out to other kids on the playground during recess and laughing about it, and one of the kids came back to tell Zela about the drama.

Now, I wish that Zela would have just laughed it off in a silly way and not really said anything at all, but that's not what she did.  Instead she confronted the girls and told them something sassy about fashion sense. 

*sigh* 

While I'm thankful that she didn't insult them that day, I wish she would have just done a little booty shake dance and asked them to count the rest of the rhinestones so that she could be sure to know if any more come up missing.  Either that or just ignored this ridiculousness all together. 

I wasn't teased much as a kid, and I really believe it was probably related to things just not appearing to bother me much.  I was silly and laughed almost anything off, so either it didn't stick in my memory, or it didn't happen much.  Either that or I was just too naïve and oblivious to notice, which is also a very distinct possibility.  They didn't call me spacey Stacey for nothing! 

I do have one vivid memory of a bullying situation in junior high, though.  The reason I remember it wasn't for what the silly bullies said or did, but for what someone did for me in that moment of weakness.  That memory is forever etched on my heart, and I only hope that I am raising children who will react to ugliness in the world in a similar manner.

My dad had just started his firm in the Shreveport/Bossier area, and those first couple of years were slim pickin's financially.  We had just moved, and that meant a new school for seventh grade.  Luckily I had built -- okay my parents had built for me a pretty acceptable wardrobe in the years prior, but unfortunately my feet didn't get the memo that they should maybe not grow any while my dad was investing in and building his business.  The time soon came that I needed some gym shoes, and there was no way to get around it.  I was pretty aware of how lean times were for us, and my mom was desperately trying to find a shoe that wouldn't break the non-existent budget and also wouldn't embarrass me. 

I saw a pair of high-tops in a store flyer that I thought would be okay.  They weren't name brand, but they weren't as hideous as many of the other cheap tennis shoes I had seen, so I asked her to please get them whenever she could.

I wore them to school, and I actually felt mostly okay about them.  They didn't look quite as cool as they did in the ad, but no terrible either.  As the day went on, I thought I may have heard some kids snickering and talking, but I wasn't completely certain they were laughing at me and my shoes.  But oh, what a difference a day makes.  The next day?  That day I was certain that my shoes and I were the butt of all of their jokes.  One of the kids brought in the store flyer that I had first seen the high tops in -- the Family Dollar flyer.  I felt like the entire school did nothing that day but pass around that flyer while pointing and laughing at my feet.  I went from feeling like the shoes were acceptable to feeling like *I* was unacceptable because of a stupid pair of tennis shoes for P.E. that my mom got for me on sale at Family Dollar.

I tried to brush it off, but boy was it was tough to keep wearing those shoes.  I held my head high and smiled and laughed about them, but inside every joke was chipping away at my already weakened self-confidence.  Then an amazing thing happened.  I had a friend who saw what was happening, and decided to actually do something about it.  She had always been kind, funny, bubbly, and outgoing.  She was one of the first friends I made at Doyline Jr High, and although we may not be close now, she left an indelible mark on me.  All of these years later, her single act of kindness in seventh grade is what I think of any time I see pictures of her or her daughter on facebook -- or when I see a kid with hole-y tennis shoes or even shoes that are not name brand. 

Haley saw what the "bullies" were saying about my shoes.  She saw how it made each day that I had to wear those shoes even more humiliating than the last.  It must have moved her in some way, because I remember her telling me to ignore them.  I remember laughing at that notion, as though it were impossible to do.  She tried to convince me that the shoes were not that bad, and definitely nothing to be embarrassed of.  Do you know what she did to prove her point? 

SHE TRADED SHOES WITH ME. 

That's right, folks.  She took my Family Dollar "fitness" brand high tops with pink piping and a picture of a pine tree on the side and traded me for her name brand shoes.  Not only did she let me wear her shoes stamped with the socially acceptable label, but she actually wore my shoes and laughed at those who had laughed at me.  She acted like she liked them -- heck, maybe she really did, but I don't think that was the point.  She practically dared anyone to laugh at her with her confident friendliness and demeanor.  She may have never told the bullies to stand down and she may have never verbally stood up for me, but that girl had my back in a way that no one ever had before.  In that one small gesture, she changed my life.  I still love telling this story, and I hope she doesn't mind that I shared with my small slice of cyber-world. 
I'm not sure why I haven't shared this story with Zela yet, but that's on my agenda for tomorrow.  There's a lot of darkness in this world; Haley's light was one that never got put out.  For that I am thankful, and now I have something with which to encourage my own daughter.  Thank you, Haley, and all of you others out there who continue to let your light shine.  The world needs more people like you. 

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No one's fault but my own

Guess what this post ISN'T about?  Go ahead.  Guess.  I dare you. 

It's NOT about body love, body hate, food, exercise, or finding my motivation.  It's not about my journey to become fit, thin, in shape, or healthy.  Really.  I promise.  It's not. 

Well, not directly, anyway. 

I've just realized something tonight.  It literally hit me like a freight train barreling right smack into my skull, and I'm not sure how I've overlooked it for so long.  Somehow, I've become so caught up in trying to be a part of my community that I've actually lost sight of who *I* am.  I've tried to fit in.  I've tried to blend in.  I've tried to shove this square peg into what I perceived as a round hole for almost ten years now.  And with every step along the way, I've lost little pieces of Stacey Marie. 

The first step?  I chose to work diligently to not sound like an import.  My southern accent embarrassed me at times, although I have to admit that I do occasionally miss it now.  It was such a part of me for so long, but is long gone now.   In my experience, I found that some people thought it was cute, some people thought it was weird, and some people didn't think anything about it at all.  However, *I* didn't feel taken seriously in the business world when I was a young female with a hybrid Louisiana/Texas accent, so I got rid of it.  I worked very hard, and nowadays most people are shocked to find out that I actually grew up in the deep south.  This isn't really that big of a deal, but it was a step. 

Another distinct change that I can pinpoint is my laugh.  I have an amazing best friend (http://crazyjamie.com/ -- check her out!) who knew me before I made the conscious effort to change my laugh.  She still hears it on occasion, and always, always, ALWAYS tells me how much she loves it, but it wasn't her positive opinion that affected change in me.  Nope.  I do know that it was a very loud and noticeable guffaw.  I can remember going on a group date when I was 19 or 20 to a comedy movie.  It must have been funny, because let me tell you, I can't remember many times that I laughed harder.  I laughed until I cried.  I laughed until my belly ached.  I laughed until my cheeks hurt.  I laughed until...  well, until I heard my date whispering about how embarrassing my laugh was to his buddy seated on the other side of him.  Jamie's constant encouragement of my great laugh were mere whispers when compared to the whispered uncomfortableness of a date.  How does that work? 

For much of the past ten years or so, I've been chipping away at personality "quirks" that have seemed to make others uncomfortable.  I don't announce my presence when I walk in a room.  I don't say what I think when I think it.  I don't laugh loud and infectiously.  I don't tell jokes often.  I try not to be the "center of attention."  I don't sing (loudly and sometimes off key) often anymore.  I don't dance.  I don't hug my friends.  I don't invite people to dinner in my small and not-so-fancy house.  I basically don't do many things that I've felt have caused people around me to be uncomfortable, without regard to my own level of comfort.  I told myself it was maturity.  I think I may have told myself a lie.

You know what else I've done?  I've remained loyal to people who treat me poorly.  People who have unknowingly crushed my spirit on multiple occasions.  People who have told me that I'm dumb and ignorant (but not those exact words, and always said with a smile).  People who have completely different moral outlooks on life, family, and friendship.  I'm loyal to a fault, and I need to rediscover loyalty to one's own self.  Loyalty doesn't do me any good if I allow those relationships to continue to squelch who I really am.

I have nothing bad to say about anyone.  This is on me.  These are choices I alone am responsible for.  I have allowed this slow degradation of my personality and person.  I've tried too hard to please people and allowed me to lose myself in the process of trying to fit in.

I deserve a better life than that.  My kids deserve a better example than that. 

I'm done trying to fit.  I'm unique.  I'm fun.  I'm loud.  I'm weird.  I have an odd sense of humor.  I'm strong.  I laugh a lot, and when I do, it's loud and sometimes contagious.  I'm smart.  I'm a good judge of character.  I'm loyal.  I'm a good friend.  I'm fearfully and wonderfully made, and it's about time that I embrace that.  Again.

And even though this post isn't about health and weight loss, it really kind of is.  You see, it's hard to find yourself in a healthy place when you are literally burying your person alive.  In this archeological digging, I'm unearthing a healthier, more whole, more secure Stacey.  It's all related.  This is just part of the journey, and I'm glad you're here with me because it's quite the ride!    

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Parenting 101 - Allowance

Did you grow up getting an allowance?  Did you have to earn it, or was it just a right of passage in your household?  Did you learn money management skills through the process?  What exacly *is* the purpose of allowance, anyway?

We've been thinking and discussing this a lot over the years, but have never really settled on anything firm.  You see, we're a blended family, with kids spending some time here, some time there, and a lot in between.  My three are here throughout the school year and during the summer.  Brian's three are here every other weekend and six weeks in the summer.



With that constantly changing dynamic, it has been difficult to balance exactly what would be fair.  They don't have the same opportunities to do the same amount of chores, but that is through no fault of their own.  I never felt it was fair for the allowance opportunity to be so lop-sided, so we've just avoided it all together.  However, I think we have a new solution.

In our home, daily chores are an expected contribution of able-bodied human beings living in this household. I feel that paying the children to do daily chores makes it an option, and for us, things like taking out the trash, making beds, or emptying the dishwasher are just not options to be left undone.  There are not enough hours in the day for Brian and I to do everything involved in keeping this household managed AND have any fun in the process.  Therefore the kids have a few small regular responsibilities that have not been compensated for in the past, and will continue to be done that way.  You may call it slave labor; we call it family.

That doesn't mean, however, that we don't think that the children should not learn about all things financial as part of their upbringing as well.  Here is where that magical term, "allowance" comes in.  As I thought about it, read about it, asked other parents about it, and prayed about it, I realized that it should be just what the word implies:

 "Allowance: N. An amount or share allotted or granted."

That's right!  It's something given -- not earned, not stipulated to, not tied to any responsibilities, really.  I have hesitated in instituting free money for children earned from simply being so danged cute.  I mean, who wants to raise entitled little heathens anyway??  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I am doing the kids a disservice by NOT giving them allowance.  I'm not teaching them the value of THINGS or MONEY.  We provide everything they need, and sometimes fuss at them for being wasteful or non-appreciative.  But really, if they never have to use actual money to buy things for themselves, how could they really ever know and understand the value of the things we provide?  And if they don't learn to track their spending now, will they ever learn it as an adult?  I know I still struggle to this day with tracking and budgeting.

So here's the plan, Stan!

Brian and I are going to commit to each other and the kids to track our income and expenses alongside the kids.  We are going to use the super-fantabulous budgeting software, You Need A Budget, or YNAB for short.  I have been working on setting up our budget off and on today, and will have it ready for our Family Meeting when we get all the kids here for the summer.  We will show them a very brief overview of how it works, and how it implements the teachings of my favorite financial guru, Dave Ramsey.  We will talk about household contributions expected from all members, even asking the kids for feedback.  And we'll end the whole shindig with cold, hard cash and an individualized register for each child.  The only catch is this: present your balanced register at the next family meeting in order to get your next allowance allotment.  We will have to tweak whether this is truly done on a monthly or bi-weekly basis, so stay tuned.

For now, we have decided to start giving allowance out once per month, allotting one George Washington per year of age, per child.  I'm willing to bet that the 7-year-old might feel slightly short-changed, but I will eagerly remind him of the extras he can do to earn some more cash!

That's where these super-nifty chore jars will come in handy!  Each person will get their own personal daily responsibility jar, but there will also be a community chore jar with optional PAYING chores listed on those sticks.  After that chore is done, they exchange that stick for some more $$.  Brian or I will just verify that said chore is truly completed before paying out the cash from the CASH jar.





I'm really happy with how all of this is seeming to come together.  Receiving pay for expected duties of family members is gone, and even the likelihood of brotherly or sisterly theft is lessened  with the institution of the register.  (We have had a problem with dollars disappearing on pool days last summer).  I also think the temptation of theft is lessened when each kid knows when they're next payday will be.  I'm excited to see how this goes.









Links to my inspiration of the day:

http://www.ducksinarowblog.com/2011/09/allowance-macdougall-family-style.html

http://athomewiththehinsons.blogspot.com/2010/06/chore-jars.html

http://moneysavingmom.com/downloads/household-management-forms

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