Exercising is hard!

On Monday I start my exercise routine again. Yuck. Some people enjoy exercise. I do not. It is an means to a ends and so I plod through it.

I had a heart murmur which went undiagnosed for quite some time. During this time my ex went down a path of inappropriate behavior. So while I was having test after test run, he was having an affair. I went through this alone. Alone and scared. Basically it boiled down to the fact that my home situation was causing unbelievable stress to my heart. I could change or I could die. That simple.

So I kicked the ex out of the house and have spent the last few months rebuilding myself. Like the Bionic Woman. Better. Stronger. Healthier. Happier.

An hour a day you will find me in the garage on the treadmill. My I-pod blaring out songs. The bottle of water tempting me. And a giant full length mirror to remind me of why I am doing this.

At first I could hardly last twenty minutes. I thought I was going to simply die. I had to keep stopping and monitoring my blood pressure. Then I built it up to thirty minutes. Now it is almost five miles and 1 hour. I still think I am simply going to die, I just now know I'm not.

With the exercise routine comes the eating healthier, which I am bad at. So I eat the same thing every day. No exceptions. It works for me to not have choices. I cook two different meals, one for the kid and one for me. His looks great. Mine does not. But means to an end, so I continue on.

I love the way being thinner makes me feel. After the last six months I look great. I have a ways to go. My cardiologist has one goal for me and I have a different goal. His goal is to have me weigh what I did in TENTH GRADE. Mine is to be something I actually have the ability to achieve and more importantly maintain!

Knowing myself, I don't want to continue this much exercise every day. I hate it. In a previous life I was a sloth. While I don't want to go back to the person or the shape I was, I don't want to have a life ruled by exercise.

For the last two months, I got a reprieve. My blood pressure is lowering itself. The heart murmur has quieted down. 75 lbs have been removed from my frame. My BMI index went from obese to normal. I have gone from a size 22 to a size 12. I won't lie, it feels wonderful. It was hard work. It was no fun. But it has been worth it in every way possible.

Deciding to save my life forced me to wake up and see what was around me. My home life, my marriage, all were working to show me that what I had become, was not what I wanted. I listened. I changed. I am happy but more importantly, I am finally healthy. Both in body and soul. Just how it is suppose to be.

Just pull yourself up by your boot-straps - NOT

I am in therapy.

There, I said it. Something I thought I would never utter in my life. I didn't really have anything against it, I just thought you pushed on through the problems. Sucked it up. Used the power of positive thinking. Pulled yourself up using your boot straps.

I was wrong.

Dead wrong.

My world came crashing down on me six months ago. The life I had built and worked so hard for was no more. My husband had an affair. It's funny how insignificant those five words look when I type them. On my page they seem to have no more power than the sentence that came before them or after them, yet they packed a wallop of a punch. One good hit and I was down for the count, or so I thought.

While all this was happening I was going through some health issues as well. It seemed that the hits just kept on coming and I was drowning. Trying to all of a sudden, run a house on my own, pay bills on my own, fill out college applications on my own, raise my son on my own, make sense of a world all topsy-turvy on my own, was a lot to handle.

Therapy came to the rescue. Oh, it isn't a be all end all, but it is a giant help. I am the one who rescued myself. I found everything I needed to make it inside me. Therapy is the map. With any map, it is only as helpful as the person reading it. If I turn it upside down, or take a wrong turn, that is my fault. The map is still there and I need to try again. and again. and again.

I found that I had more inside me then I knew. More strength then I thought possible. More intelligence then I had been given credit for. More compassion. More humor. More of everything. I lost all of that during my marriage. I didn't have a marriage of equal partnership. I lost myself. Therapy has helped me find, well, me again. A better me. A stronger me. A me I like so much. A me my son is proud of.

The road I travel now is hard, no getting around that. Lots of work ahead for me. I say "Let's Go!" I am prepared and ready. Willing and able. I have the tools inside of me that will enable me to handle what comes next. I have my son who sees that bad decisions made by others can be overcome. That life sometimes just really, really sucks. But it is what we do after we are knocked down that matters.

I don't expect to leap right up and find everything all perfect and rosy. Most days, if I am honest, I am crawling. I'm hoping for a day when I can just sit. I haven't even thought of standing yet, let alone leaping. But it is coming, I feel it and I know it to be true.

Therapy has given me that. Given me hope, courage, and strength to be better than I ever dreamed.

In spite of all that has happened to me, it turns out, that I am lucky indeed.