My deepest shame has always been this sense that I somehow wasn't good enough. But one thing I've always been great at is pretending. So my greatest fear has always been that other people knew that I was a fraud. I spent my whole life being the "best" at whatever I did, and if I couldn't be the best (or at least fake it well enough) then I probably just stopped trying. I had amazingly supportive parents who believed in everything I ever did, they showed up and encouraged me at everything I tried. This isn't somehow their fault. This is a fear that's been engrained in me for as long as I can remember- perhaps because of the pressure of growing up in the fishbowl that is being a pastor's kid? I'm sure family dynamics, birth order, and "public" life had something to do with it.
I distinctly remember reading my report card as a child - Reading 98, Math 96, Science 99, and so on. Comments - "Kaitlyn is not working to her full potential." There it is. Even just writing that sentence, the shame that followed still fills my heart 23 years later. My early elementary school teacher could never have known that I would carry those words over 2 decades later. Neither could the countless other teachers who made the very same comments about my achievements. Maybe they meant it as an encouragement, but I never understood why my best didn't feel good enough. It felt like my teachers could somehow see through me, they knew I was pretending. Pretending to be smart. Pretending to be capable. Just pretending.
This was my inner-dialogue for the majority of my adolescence and early adulthood - "They all know you're a fraud."
As an undergrad I had a professor who took time to mentor me. I had found a topic of study I loved, that I was the only one in my family to study, and that I was genuinely good at. I felt confident as I wrote my thesis. I spent countless hours every week writing only to have Dr. Maness sit with me for a few more hours as he painstakingly edited my work. Never once did he make me feel like a fraud, never once did I feel like he was judging me or wondering whether I had "worked to my full potential." In that year I felt like I was enough - not the best, but not a failure, just enough. It was because of him that I felt confident enough to jump into graduate school. I just knew that this is what I needed to do - I loved this area of study and I was good at it.
The first few years of my masters/PhD program were amazing. I made friends, I was challenged, I questioned a lot of what I knew about the world. I got a masters! Once the PhD work began I dove in, and as I did, the doubt started to creep back into the recesses of my mind. Even though I had a 3.8 GPA, I started to struggle with my confidence. I wondered what my committee thought about my work all the time. I was convinced they all knew I was full of it when I took my exams and gave an oral defense. They asked tough questions, I had answers. But later on, in the dark, I cringed at my responses. There it is. I had gone too far. I probably didn't belong here. And they all knew it.
At the same time, I began to struggle with my dissertation chair. Some might say that the internal issues were triggered by her treatment of me in classes, the way she thought nothing of belittling me or tearing my work apart as I stood in the light of the projector at the front of the class. I knew my chair wasn't quite right in the head, though, and so I always tried to just shake her comments off.
I had a baby shortly after I passed my dissertation prospectus defense. I continued to work on research through the semester of maternity leave and came back ready to write. But things were weird. I would e-mail chapters to my committee and they would send them back stating that my dissertation chair had disallowed them from reading and commenting until she thought I was "ready" - whatever that means. During my time away she had decided that the prospectus I passed was unreasonable, so I rewrote and re-defended. It felt like a punch to the gut but I knew I just needed to jump whatever hoops to earn the letters I wanted after my name. I kept reading, I kept writing.
One day, I sent a chapter out to my whole committee. I received an e-mail back that said "A***, This is what I was talking about. She's in complete denial. T****". My heart was in my throat and my face was burning. I didn't know whether I would cry or puke. An e-mail that I was never intended to see threw me into a tailspin. Suddenly, many other strange events made sense - namely that I was contacted to confirm a conference room reservation at school. The reservation said "Kaitlyn TeBordo Wood" and they assumed I had made it. As it turns out, it was my committee chair who called a meeting to discuss me (and apparently my state of denial).
After 5 years in the program without any issue, no bad grades, no concerns about my writing, my chair believed that I was unready to write a dissertation because my skill was not "up to par." "It's okay," she would later tell me, "maybe you should have just gone to Bible College.*"
That e-mail confirmed everything I ever feared - that I'm not enough. And what's worse? That everybody knows it. Kaitlyn does not work to her full potential.
I left my doctoral program within weeks of that awkward e-mail exchange. My entire life flipped upside down and has never really flipped back up again.
Despite knowing that my chair was a bit off her rocker, I took every word she uttered as truth. And I've carried that stone with me everywhere I go... Except that I didn't realize it until recently. Until someone asked me a direct question about my grad school experience a few weeks ago, I hadn't even noticed that I've spent the last 5 years in a spiral of shame that is overwhelming to admit out loud.
I want to write, but I won't. I'm certain that behind their screens every single person is thinking the same thing my committee chair never meant to say directly to me, "She's in denial. She can't do this. Maybe she should have just gone to Bible College."
I want to speak, but I stick to preaching with my congregation because they're safe to me. Because I'm convinced that walking "into the Stadium" as Brene Brown puts it will put me square in the middle of the harsh light that would reveal all of my failings.
So instead, I don't. I keep a running journal of all the things I want to write about. I keep a running note on my phone of all the videos I should make. I've spent years hiding. Afraid to get up from the floor my committee chair left me on, deciding it's safer if I just stay here.
I'm kind of tired of it. I'm tired of walking around worried about the criticism that others might have from the stands of the stadium. I'm tired of standing outside of the stadium waiting for someone to notice me, decide I'm good enough, and usher me back out into the ring. I'm tired of looking back and wondering "what if...".
I don't know what happens next. There's no happy or triumphant ending here. But I wonder if my elementary school teachers were prophetic or something, because when I look back at the last 5 years of my life I can confidently say that "Kaitlyn is not working to her full potential." Not because I don't *do* enough, Lord knows my schedule (and hands) are quite full, thank you. But because I have spent the last 5 years hiding outside of the arena, speaking to those safe people on the sidewalk, just to avoid the feeling I had when I received that e-mail.
I can't help but wonder what might happen if I dared to go back in.
* Please note that I have no issue with Bible College. LOL! It was just something that my Chair used to try to shame me because we were at a snobby research institution. ;) In fact, I go to "Bible College" now - I'm in seminary at Northeastern. :)
Thursday, April 21, 2016
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
What I'm saying when I say I trust God.
Most of you already know that this week I will be saying "goodbye" to my sister (who also happens to be my best friend). I have cried. A lot.
Tears of sadness... because I will obviously miss her.
Tears of selfishness... because now what will I do on my days off, who will I bounce my ridiculous ideas off of, who can I complain about things to, and who will call me on my crap?
Tears of anxiety... because who knows what the next 11 months have in store for either of us?
In general, I am an anxious person. That is, I am prone to anxiety. In many forms. My social anxiety is pretty impressive. It is rivaled only by my travel anxiety. I don't get nervous when I travel, especially when I travel with my family. But when my family and loved ones travel without me? Forget it. I'm a wreck.
10.5 years ago my parents and younger siblings left me home for the summer while I worked and spent time with friends and packed to head back to college. In the middle of the night toward the end of August, one week before I was scheduled to head to school, I got a phone call from my father.
"Kaitlyn, mommy had a heart attack."
"Is she okay? She's okay now, right?"
"No, I'm sorry honey. She didn't make it."
In that moment my entire world shattered. Nothing in my 18 years made any sense anymore. It would be a long time before I could make heads or tails of my feelings. Mourning is weird. And personal. But one thing I know that I never experience was anger with God. I'm not really sure why. I just knew that I needed him. I knew that I would probably never really know why I was experiencing this, but I prayed it would be used.
Obviously, as my travel anxiety proves, I haven't fully dealt with all of this 10 years later.
Many of us are trained to say, sing and preach that we "trust God." That "all things work together." But what about when they don't? What happens to our faith, to our trust in God, when the foundation of our lives crumble. Often times when we say we trust God, what we really mean is, "I want God to do things my way."
It's easy to trust God when life is easy. It feels good to sing and declare that our God is trustworthy. But that trust goes much deeper than a cliche or a worship chorus.
My dad used to pray before we left on trips that God would send angels to surround us as we traveled, that we would be protected. It makes sense and I get why he did that. But in some ways, doesn't praying for God's protection almost demonstrate a distrust for His plan?
My anxiety tears over my sister's departure flow freely mostly because I know my sister is not my own. I know I cannot protect her, control her, or keep her safe. Especially as she flies around the world to live with a people she fell in love with years ago. As she works in dangerous situations, helping free people from the bondage of modern slavery.
As Abigail leaves, I don't pray "God send your angels to protect her," and not because I don't want her protected. Instead I pray, "God, I trust my precious sister to your perfect will." Because my trust in God is not dependent on getting my way. It can't be. God is not my genie in the sky. Truly trusting in God says, "God, I trust that You have written this story to it's completion. I trust that there is a plan. I trust that working together all things doesn't always mean things work the way I want them to."
I trust God because He is trustworthy. In times of financial, marital, personal, social challenges I trust God because I know in my core who He is. Because I fully understand that I am a vapor. That my story is a blip on the screen in the greater movie. I trust God because I know who He is. That he is I AM. That the same God who called Moses to free the Israelites from bondage has called Abigail to free the oppressed in South East Asia.
Trusting God is not easy. It certainly doesn't stop me from crying. And it won't stop me from believing that Abigail will be back here in 11 months, suffering through insane family events at Christmas with me and enjoying a mani/pedi and Moe's in only the way she can. God knows the desires of my heart, for my sister to be safe and to return here. But God also knows how our stories play out.
So I am trusting my sister to God.
Whatever that means.
No matter how hard.
I trust her to God's care and I look forward to seeing the way that God uses her heart, her call, and her courage to change this world!
 |
| Abigail & I at her MSW Graduation |
Tears of sadness... because I will obviously miss her.
Tears of selfishness... because now what will I do on my days off, who will I bounce my ridiculous ideas off of, who can I complain about things to, and who will call me on my crap?
Tears of anxiety... because who knows what the next 11 months have in store for either of us?
 |
| Us as Olsen twins... obviously |
In general, I am an anxious person. That is, I am prone to anxiety. In many forms. My social anxiety is pretty impressive. It is rivaled only by my travel anxiety. I don't get nervous when I travel, especially when I travel with my family. But when my family and loved ones travel without me? Forget it. I'm a wreck.
10.5 years ago my parents and younger siblings left me home for the summer while I worked and spent time with friends and packed to head back to college. In the middle of the night toward the end of August, one week before I was scheduled to head to school, I got a phone call from my father.
"Kaitlyn, mommy had a heart attack."
"Is she okay? She's okay now, right?"
"No, I'm sorry honey. She didn't make it."
In that moment my entire world shattered. Nothing in my 18 years made any sense anymore. It would be a long time before I could make heads or tails of my feelings. Mourning is weird. And personal. But one thing I know that I never experience was anger with God. I'm not really sure why. I just knew that I needed him. I knew that I would probably never really know why I was experiencing this, but I prayed it would be used.
Obviously, as my travel anxiety proves, I haven't fully dealt with all of this 10 years later.
Many of us are trained to say, sing and preach that we "trust God." That "all things work together." But what about when they don't? What happens to our faith, to our trust in God, when the foundation of our lives crumble. Often times when we say we trust God, what we really mean is, "I want God to do things my way."
It's easy to trust God when life is easy. It feels good to sing and declare that our God is trustworthy. But that trust goes much deeper than a cliche or a worship chorus.
My dad used to pray before we left on trips that God would send angels to surround us as we traveled, that we would be protected. It makes sense and I get why he did that. But in some ways, doesn't praying for God's protection almost demonstrate a distrust for His plan?
My anxiety tears over my sister's departure flow freely mostly because I know my sister is not my own. I know I cannot protect her, control her, or keep her safe. Especially as she flies around the world to live with a people she fell in love with years ago. As she works in dangerous situations, helping free people from the bondage of modern slavery.
As Abigail leaves, I don't pray "God send your angels to protect her," and not because I don't want her protected. Instead I pray, "God, I trust my precious sister to your perfect will." Because my trust in God is not dependent on getting my way. It can't be. God is not my genie in the sky. Truly trusting in God says, "God, I trust that You have written this story to it's completion. I trust that there is a plan. I trust that working together all things doesn't always mean things work the way I want them to."
I trust God because He is trustworthy. In times of financial, marital, personal, social challenges I trust God because I know in my core who He is. Because I fully understand that I am a vapor. That my story is a blip on the screen in the greater movie. I trust God because I know who He is. That he is I AM. That the same God who called Moses to free the Israelites from bondage has called Abigail to free the oppressed in South East Asia.
Trusting God is not easy. It certainly doesn't stop me from crying. And it won't stop me from believing that Abigail will be back here in 11 months, suffering through insane family events at Christmas with me and enjoying a mani/pedi and Moe's in only the way she can. God knows the desires of my heart, for my sister to be safe and to return here. But God also knows how our stories play out.
So I am trusting my sister to God.
Whatever that means.
No matter how hard.
I trust her to God's care and I look forward to seeing the way that God uses her heart, her call, and her courage to change this world!
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Ruthlessly Eliminate Hurry
I was challenged this week to "ruthlessly eliminate hurry" from my life. The story was retold by a speaker at the conference, but was original to John Ortberg, a favorite author of mine. Anyway, John calls one his mentors and says to him, "I'm really feeling very depressed and like I can't live up to everything. I've got so many things I need to do and it leaves no time for me, my family, God..." His mentor said to him, "Ruthlessly. Eliminate. Hurry." Ortberg responded, "Oh, that's great! What's the next step?" ;)
That *is* the only step. Eliminate hurry from your life. Huh, that sounds both simple and infuriating, right? I put that into practice this week. Living "alone" for 4 days makes it sort of easy to eliminate hurry, I think. My typical type-A personality lost out to my desire to slow down and relax. It was fantastic. I never rushed or felt stressed in lines at the airport, I didn't feel pressure to be 15 minutes early to everything, cutting short my morning prep time or coffee stop. I just, I let things happen. I allowed myself to take time to do my hair, relax in my room, and meander through the hotel shops on my way to meetings.
I guess that's pretty easy to do when you're transported from the "bleak mid winter" of upstate New York and dropped in sunny central Florida in a gorgeous resort. I took time. And it reminded me of all those trips I rushed through, so worried about the destination that I never enjoyed the adventure of getting there. What a miserable person I must be to be around sometimes! Life is so humbling. I am so thankful for grace and the ability to change.
Now comes the real challenge. Of course it's easy to meander and slow down in the vacuum of a solo trip to a gorgeous location. But what about a 20 degree morning when the boys are whining and I'm late for work? Or those times when Levi asks me "Mommy will you ________ with me?" and I'm thinking, "I really need to ______."
I will always be a task-oriented person and that is a challenge for me as a wife, mother, and friend. I fully admit I am not always the life of the party (no laughing, friends and family!). I don't think I will ever be a care-free, fly by the seat of your pants, kind of person. But I can slow the heck down. Ruthlessly eliminate hurry from my life.
Because really? That person who rushes, pushes, and speeds around you on the highway? Usually they are sitting right next to you in the toll booth. Hurry only frustrates, it doesn't really get you anywhere much faster. And who knows what adventure you might be missing on the way!
That *is* the only step. Eliminate hurry from your life. Huh, that sounds both simple and infuriating, right? I put that into practice this week. Living "alone" for 4 days makes it sort of easy to eliminate hurry, I think. My typical type-A personality lost out to my desire to slow down and relax. It was fantastic. I never rushed or felt stressed in lines at the airport, I didn't feel pressure to be 15 minutes early to everything, cutting short my morning prep time or coffee stop. I just, I let things happen. I allowed myself to take time to do my hair, relax in my room, and meander through the hotel shops on my way to meetings.
I guess that's pretty easy to do when you're transported from the "bleak mid winter" of upstate New York and dropped in sunny central Florida in a gorgeous resort. I took time. And it reminded me of all those trips I rushed through, so worried about the destination that I never enjoyed the adventure of getting there. What a miserable person I must be to be around sometimes! Life is so humbling. I am so thankful for grace and the ability to change.
Now comes the real challenge. Of course it's easy to meander and slow down in the vacuum of a solo trip to a gorgeous location. But what about a 20 degree morning when the boys are whining and I'm late for work? Or those times when Levi asks me "Mommy will you ________ with me?" and I'm thinking, "I really need to ______."
I will always be a task-oriented person and that is a challenge for me as a wife, mother, and friend. I fully admit I am not always the life of the party (no laughing, friends and family!). I don't think I will ever be a care-free, fly by the seat of your pants, kind of person. But I can slow the heck down. Ruthlessly eliminate hurry from my life.
Because really? That person who rushes, pushes, and speeds around you on the highway? Usually they are sitting right next to you in the toll booth. Hurry only frustrates, it doesn't really get you anywhere much faster. And who knows what adventure you might be missing on the way!
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Losing it. Episode 2.
Today was the end of this thing called a Diet Bet. Basically, you get a group of people together on dietbet.com, pay $35 and then you get 4 weeks to lose 4% of your body weight. You have to submit a picture of yourself standing on the scale and a picture of the weight displayed on the scale with a special keyword written on a notecard next to it. If you lose the weight, you get your money back. If others don't lose the weight, the people who do get to split their money.
Today, I officially WON! Woot! I get my money back and maybe a little extra to boot! :)
With that said, I lost 7ish pounds this month! Yay!
I'm giving myself a little grace while traveling for a few days (this does not translate into binge, just not being super strict). When I get back we're in full prep-mode for the switch to gluten free and Daniel Fast. If anyone has any tried and true Paleo-type recipes please share!!
Today, I officially WON! Woot! I get my money back and maybe a little extra to boot! :)
With that said, I lost 7ish pounds this month! Yay!
I'm giving myself a little grace while traveling for a few days (this does not translate into binge, just not being super strict). When I get back we're in full prep-mode for the switch to gluten free and Daniel Fast. If anyone has any tried and true Paleo-type recipes please share!!
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
2 hours in an airport.
I'm in an airplane right now. It's still insane to me that I can be online in an airplane 10,000 feet in the air. I'm on my way to Orlando for a conference for 3 days. Until this morning I was ridiculously excited to spend 3 glorious nights alone in my own hotel room- eating, sleeping, exercising reading, and learning on my own schedule. Even my type A personality has worn tired of the strict schedule the Wood family is required to keep. Le sigh.
Anyway, this morning I started to get anxious. I'm not a big fan of flying in the first place; I;m not terrified I just don't really enjoy it. I'm sad to be away from my baby who is days away from taking his first steps and no longer nurses. I told Matt that if he stands up and tries to walk I wanted him pushed down immediately. I was joking. Mostly. I will be pretty bummed if I happen to miss his first steps, though.
Even more than all of that is Levi. My sweet, spunky, spirited, beautiful Levi. Sigh. I get so nervous when I have to leave him. I'm not really sure why since I'm not really much better at calming his meltdowns these days, but I'm always sort of waiting for a phone call from home. And when the phone does ring from home, I always fear I will hear the tell-tale screams in the background. I just. I worry.
So I found myself sitting in a practically empty airport 2 hours before my flight was to take off. Apparently Wednesday @ 2pm isn't a hugely popular time to fly in January... who knew? I picked up my Kindle and started reading a book I had downloaded earlier this week in anticipation of my quiet time. The book is a conversation between two mothers, one younger and one older, about mothering in community, about the guilt and frustrations that can come along with mothering. And more importantly, about some hope for the future. And then, BAM. I'm in tears. I did my best to quietly wipe my tears before anyone could see, but each page brought new waves of emotions.
When I hit the chapter about "Out of the Box" children I couldn't contain it any longer. They were talking about me. About my first-born. And it stung. Whatever labels might be placed on Levi someday, I'm realizing that my first job is to love him and parent him with the Grace that I desire. The grace we all receive from God.
One of the author's says, "May times we heard the words, 'You aren't spanking your children enough!' And yet my darling little Nathan, who we later found had ADHD and OCD, always responded to me when I was gentle, loving, and filling his cup. He needed patience, and he needed me to like him, and believe in him." Ouch.
How often am I not showing my child that, through all of his behaviors, I love him and like him? That I am on his team.
Everyone has ideas about how Matt & I should "handle" Levi and his behaviors. Some have even suggested that most of his behavior probably just has to do with "us" since he doesn't meltdown during x, y, or z. I try to respond kindly to those suggestions, to remember that others don't live with him, that Levi feels comfortable melting down with us, that we are generally the ones that are bringing him to challenging situations. Anyway, no matter how well intentioned they are, we don't always feel encouragement or community from friends and family when it comes to that sort of stuff. Having a kid who's "out of the box" can, in fact be really isolating. It can be lonely in this section of motherhood, and reading about someone else's experience with similar emotions was really liberating and validating.
No matter what evaluations, doctors, or tests say, Levi needs to know that Matt & I are happy with him. That we are proud to be his parents. That we are on his team. Because you know what? Sometimes this world is actually really scary and overwhelming, and when you're 3 and things feel out of control all the time? How else might you respond?
For the moment our life with Levi is filled with skinny jeans, lots of squeezing, a good schedule, solid sleep that we can't mess with, lots of preparation for new things, and the occasional meltdown that leaves me curled up in a ball and crying. But it's also filled with laughter at his antics, the joy that comes from hearing him laugh, awe at his natural musical and athletic talent, and a heart that bursts with love for my first born. And you know what, that is all okay. This is where we are right now.
As much as all of this thinking makes me want to go home and squeeze him until he makes me let go, I know the next few days away will be good for me. And hopefully good for Levi, and Matt, and Jonah as they enjoy a few days of "bro" time. Deep breath.
Anyway, this morning I started to get anxious. I'm not a big fan of flying in the first place; I;m not terrified I just don't really enjoy it. I'm sad to be away from my baby who is days away from taking his first steps and no longer nurses. I told Matt that if he stands up and tries to walk I wanted him pushed down immediately. I was joking. Mostly. I will be pretty bummed if I happen to miss his first steps, though.
Even more than all of that is Levi. My sweet, spunky, spirited, beautiful Levi. Sigh. I get so nervous when I have to leave him. I'm not really sure why since I'm not really much better at calming his meltdowns these days, but I'm always sort of waiting for a phone call from home. And when the phone does ring from home, I always fear I will hear the tell-tale screams in the background. I just. I worry.
So I found myself sitting in a practically empty airport 2 hours before my flight was to take off. Apparently Wednesday @ 2pm isn't a hugely popular time to fly in January... who knew? I picked up my Kindle and started reading a book I had downloaded earlier this week in anticipation of my quiet time. The book is a conversation between two mothers, one younger and one older, about mothering in community, about the guilt and frustrations that can come along with mothering. And more importantly, about some hope for the future. And then, BAM. I'm in tears. I did my best to quietly wipe my tears before anyone could see, but each page brought new waves of emotions.
When I hit the chapter about "Out of the Box" children I couldn't contain it any longer. They were talking about me. About my first-born. And it stung. Whatever labels might be placed on Levi someday, I'm realizing that my first job is to love him and parent him with the Grace that I desire. The grace we all receive from God.
One of the author's says, "May times we heard the words, 'You aren't spanking your children enough!' And yet my darling little Nathan, who we later found had ADHD and OCD, always responded to me when I was gentle, loving, and filling his cup. He needed patience, and he needed me to like him, and believe in him." Ouch.
How often am I not showing my child that, through all of his behaviors, I love him and like him? That I am on his team.
Everyone has ideas about how Matt & I should "handle" Levi and his behaviors. Some have even suggested that most of his behavior probably just has to do with "us" since he doesn't meltdown during x, y, or z. I try to respond kindly to those suggestions, to remember that others don't live with him, that Levi feels comfortable melting down with us, that we are generally the ones that are bringing him to challenging situations. Anyway, no matter how well intentioned they are, we don't always feel encouragement or community from friends and family when it comes to that sort of stuff. Having a kid who's "out of the box" can, in fact be really isolating. It can be lonely in this section of motherhood, and reading about someone else's experience with similar emotions was really liberating and validating.
No matter what evaluations, doctors, or tests say, Levi needs to know that Matt & I are happy with him. That we are proud to be his parents. That we are on his team. Because you know what? Sometimes this world is actually really scary and overwhelming, and when you're 3 and things feel out of control all the time? How else might you respond?
For the moment our life with Levi is filled with skinny jeans, lots of squeezing, a good schedule, solid sleep that we can't mess with, lots of preparation for new things, and the occasional meltdown that leaves me curled up in a ball and crying. But it's also filled with laughter at his antics, the joy that comes from hearing him laugh, awe at his natural musical and athletic talent, and a heart that bursts with love for my first born. And you know what, that is all okay. This is where we are right now.
As much as all of this thinking makes me want to go home and squeeze him until he makes me let go, I know the next few days away will be good for me. And hopefully good for Levi, and Matt, and Jonah as they enjoy a few days of "bro" time. Deep breath.
Friday, January 18, 2013
losing it. episode 1.
I've been on Weight Watchers for a little over a month now, though, to be fair/honest, the 2 weeks of holidays were sort of a crap shoot for points tracking and I basically reversed all the progress I had made in the 2 weeks prior. So, for the sake of argument, let's just say I actually started the 1st week of January. ;) No seriously, that's when I restarted my tracking, working out, and keeping track of my progress.
I get some odd looks, especially from my husband, when I talk about weight watchers. While I understand I'm not "obese" or in a risk zone BMI-wise, I am pretty horrendously out of shape, and about 20 pounds over my resting, non-pregnant weight. I reached that weight about 2 months before getting pregnant with Jonah. It took me a while post-Levi and I don't plan to take that long this time. Jonah will be ONE next month (omg) and I will be on my way to my happy weight.
I have some pictures, but I'm not brave enough to post them yet. Maybe I will be able to once I have a progress picture to compare it to. For now, 3 weeks in, I am down just about 5 pounds. It's not a great loss but it's in the right direction and I'm okay with that.
So there it is. Out in public for everyone to see. I am currently 18.7 pounds from my goal weight. I want to be at my goal weight by my birthday (5/1); that gives me 3+ months. I think that's realistic. Here is my plan:
- Mondays are my usual weigh-in days, and I will aim to keep track of my progress on here.
- Working out: I want to run 3xs a week but I'm going to give myself some grace here. I will promise to be active 4 xs a week. I would love to be able to actually run a 5k this spring, we shall see.
- Eating: I will be continuing with WW for the foreseeable future. It helps me keep track and be accountable. As a family, we are going to be experimenting with going gluten free during the time that we Daniel Fast (for lent). This will be a huge adjustment for the whole family (Levi especially). I'll get into more details about the gluten experiment in another post, but stripping down our food choices to whole/naturally occurring foods has been a huge help in the past. Actually, it was how I dropped the last 14 pounds of Levi weight 2 years ago. That whole plan takes place the 2nd week of February!
Any thoughts? Tips? Are you in the same place? What are you doing right now? Share with me! Let's encourage each other, cause God knows this is hard!
I get some odd looks, especially from my husband, when I talk about weight watchers. While I understand I'm not "obese" or in a risk zone BMI-wise, I am pretty horrendously out of shape, and about 20 pounds over my resting, non-pregnant weight. I reached that weight about 2 months before getting pregnant with Jonah. It took me a while post-Levi and I don't plan to take that long this time. Jonah will be ONE next month (omg) and I will be on my way to my happy weight.
I have some pictures, but I'm not brave enough to post them yet. Maybe I will be able to once I have a progress picture to compare it to. For now, 3 weeks in, I am down just about 5 pounds. It's not a great loss but it's in the right direction and I'm okay with that.
So there it is. Out in public for everyone to see. I am currently 18.7 pounds from my goal weight. I want to be at my goal weight by my birthday (5/1); that gives me 3+ months. I think that's realistic. Here is my plan:
- Mondays are my usual weigh-in days, and I will aim to keep track of my progress on here.
- Working out: I want to run 3xs a week but I'm going to give myself some grace here. I will promise to be active 4 xs a week. I would love to be able to actually run a 5k this spring, we shall see.
- Eating: I will be continuing with WW for the foreseeable future. It helps me keep track and be accountable. As a family, we are going to be experimenting with going gluten free during the time that we Daniel Fast (for lent). This will be a huge adjustment for the whole family (Levi especially). I'll get into more details about the gluten experiment in another post, but stripping down our food choices to whole/naturally occurring foods has been a huge help in the past. Actually, it was how I dropped the last 14 pounds of Levi weight 2 years ago. That whole plan takes place the 2nd week of February!
Any thoughts? Tips? Are you in the same place? What are you doing right now? Share with me! Let's encourage each other, cause God knows this is hard!
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Saturday was perfect.
Oh, here's just a ton of pictures. This weekend was lovely. The only thing missing was my husband. We had sunshine, a cool breeze, sidewalk chalk, neighbors, friends, grilled hotdogs, birthday celebrating, and intentional relaxation. Amazing.
Levi took sidewalk chalk drawing very seriously.
He has a thing about dirty hands lately.
Our neighbor came outside, so Levi showed him how to draw on the sidewalk.
All in all, it was a fantastic weekend. I wish Matt was here, but he will be home in approximately 3 hours. :) I had an amazing birthday. Thank you to everyone who made a point to post on my wall, send me a text or e-mail, call, or wish me a happy birthday in person.
Life is good.
-ktw
Levi took sidewalk chalk drawing very seriously.
He has a thing about dirty hands lately.
Our neighbor came outside, so Levi showed him how to draw on the sidewalk.
All in all, it was a fantastic weekend. I wish Matt was here, but he will be home in approximately 3 hours. :) I had an amazing birthday. Thank you to everyone who made a point to post on my wall, send me a text or e-mail, call, or wish me a happy birthday in person.
Life is good.
-ktw
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