Weight Watchers. . . again.

When I looked at a picture of me from a recent vacation, I didn't like what I saw. I realized I needed to do something to change. So when my job offered Weight Watchers at Work with a subsidized price,  I jumped at it. I nervously went into the info session (with my checkbook) and listened to what we were being told. I made the decision I was going to make this happen because I need to do something. I need to be healthy. I filled out my paperwork, wrote my check and waited for the official weigh in the following week.

When that weigh-in came, I was borderline devastated. I hadn't realized that I had reached 258.2 pounds. My 5 foot 5 inch frame was carring 258.2 pounds! I sat down in the chair and looked through the booklets Bev handed me and downloaded the Weight Watchers app to start tracking everything. I went out and bought a FitBit in lavender and started the program.

My first week, I had a preplanned 5k, cardio kickboxing and the Kiddie Kardio program I do at work and took the dogs for a mile long walk. I tracked everything that went into my mouth-- from food to the Belgium Rock Sugar in my Teavana tea. I tracked everything and it paid off-- I lost 6.4 pounds in one week.

Week 2 on the program was much of the same. I went on walks with the dogs, did Kiddie Kardio and missed out on the Cardio Kickboxing class (Grandma's birthday). I tracked everything I ate and it paid off again! I lost an additional 6 pounds that week.

Week 3, didn't go as well as the others.  I did Kiddie Kardio, missed Cardio Kickboxing (Ladies Prayer Night) and did not get to go for the walk with the dogs because of 2 TV interviews.(There was also a major sporting event this weekend) Also, my cousin made some amazing bread and bread is evidently, my biggest weakness. I knew going into the weigh-in wasn't going to be pretty. I was pleasantly surprised I didn't undo my progress and only gained .2 pounds (3.2 ounces).

I know that what I'm doing is not a sprint. I can't be an Olympic sprinter aiming for the finish line. This is a marathon. I am not on some fad diet. I am trying to make changes that will last for a lifetime. I am changing my thinking, my habits and my life. Gaining 3.2 ounces in 1 week isn't going to derail my progress. I am going to make this work. I am going to change my life and I am going to get healthy. I WILL FIND ONEDERLAND and once I do, I'm never leaving. I just have to stick to this and make it work.


Starting Weight (SW): 258.2 pounds.
Current Weight (CW): 246.0 pounds
Total Weigh Lost (TWL): 12.2 pounds
Pounds to Go (PTG): 89 pounds.

Trying.

Sometimes, it's hard to separate what I feel inside me. The anxiety that had taken a seat on the back burner for so long is staring me in the eyes. I thought I had a handle on this. I thought once we passed the 1 year mark, life would be a little easier. It's not. Turns out, I think I've been lying to myself for so long that I was okay, that I was healing. I don't think I was doing any of those things. I think I was trying so hard to get back to normal, to get back to the way things were BEFORE. I kept trying to get back to how things were before, but that can't happen. Life will never be the way it was before June 18, 2015.

I think sometimes, we get so caught up with how things used to be that we forget to live our day to day lives in the now. We live so much in our memories of how things were and forget to make new memories.

I need to work on this.

August 19, 2015

Memories flood you when least expected. Never when you want them. Memories that cause rivers of tears to flow when you are not prepared. Memories of moments you desperately wish were not just in your past. Memories you wish you could still create.

I discovered a new song Daddy would have loved called Cinderella by Steven Curtis Chapman; another father-daughter song. It's funny, songs that made me cry hysterically yesterday are making me smile today.

I miss the walks we would take on Tuesday mornings; I keep meaning to get back out there and walk, but knowing Daddy is not able to go with me breaks my heart.


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Healing takes time.

August 18, 2015

I wake up praying I've been dreaming. Then I realize it's been 2 months since I've had one of Daddy's bear hug; it's been 2 months since I've heard him say, "I love you." I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I'm still not ready.
I come home expecting to talk to him, expecting him to be there. Or I expect to see his number show up on the caller ID, asking me to pick something up. Walking into the church building is one of the hardest things  I do.
Being a Daddy's girl without your Daddy is heartbreaking and gut wrenching. There is a pain that no one can prepare you for when you loose your Daddy. People telling you it gets better makes you want to hit them.

People like to tell you how strong you are. They have no idea how that messes with your grieving process. Telling me I'm so strong because I'm not a blubbering mess on the floor doesn't make me feel better. What telling me I'm strong does is make me feel so extremely weak when  I do have a day when all I want to do is cry. A day where all I  can do is cry.
Just because you can't see the heartbreak, doesn't mean it is not there. Sometimes, those who seem so strong are crumbling to pieces. I've become good at hiding the pain from others. It's easy to hide when people only watch the surface. People really only see what they want to see. We don't take time to read between the lines to hear what is left unsaid. Often, we don't want to hear the truth. The biggest lie everyone tell is when we answer, "Fine." when someone asks how we are. Maybe the real lie is pretending we care in the first place. We ask, "How are you" as we walk past someone, often without pausing to hear them reply.


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Grieving is a long and difficult process. Part 1

Over the next few days and weeks,  I am going to start posting my journal entries starting a couple months after my father passed away. My journal (that I need to get back to writing) will contain song lyrics, special thoughts, Bible verses and other things that have helped me along this long path of grief and healing. These post are probably going to be some of the most precious things you will read on my blog. It took 2 months for me to pick up a pen and start writing my thoughts down. It's taken me even longer to share these words with anyone else.

Grief is a process and no two people grieve the same way. This is me allowing others on my journey.
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Everyday for almost 6 months, I have drawn this semicolon on my wrist or my forearm. Some of you have asked me about it, others I'm sure have wondered but didn't want to ask. I have always been an anxious person, sometime I'm able to hide it, sometimes, there is no hiding it for anything. Within these last few months, my anxiety attacks have become more frequent (for obvious reasons) and overwhelming. When I look at my wrist and see the semicolon, it reminds me to pause, to take another breath, that I'm still here, my story is still being written. Drawing the semicolon each day is a way for me to take control of my anxiety, a way to decide every day that I'm not going to let my anxiety win.

"A semicolon is used when an author could’ve chosen to end their sentence, but chose not to. The author is you and the sentence is your life.” Project Semicolon

When I posted the picture and the worlds above to my personal Facebook page yesterday, I didn't realize just how raw letting others know my struggles would be for me. Posting about my semicolon left me feeling raw and a little anxious. I'm not sure what made me finally address my semicolon in such a public forum, but I'm glad I did. I am thinking about getting the semicolon as a tattoo, but I'm not sure. Right now, drawing the semicolon has become part of my daily routine; I'm not ready to give that up. By drawing the semicolon each day, I promise myself that I'm not going to give up.

A Little bit of Growth, a little bit of Healing, a whole lot of Faith.

Back in October (the 16th-18th), I had the opportunity to go away on a spiritual retreat with about 50 other members of my church family. Each October, we have what we call our Spiritual Enrichment Weekend (SEW) at Central Florida Bible Camp-- my favorite place on this planet. However, getting on the bus to go was really difficult. Daddy loved going away for SEW and this was the first year without him. I remember calling my mom from the church parking lot telling her I didn't want to go. I couldn't make myself get on that bus. Mom told me to get on the bus and enjoy myself and I'm really glad I did.
I can't count the times I started crying that weekend. There were moments when I would be okay and then moments where all I could do was cry. We sang some of Daddy's favorite songs and I was holding it together until someone looked at me and  I lost it.
All weekend, people would come up to me and tell me stories about Dad and favorite memories. I loved every moment. Hearing how much others loved Dad comforted me in a way I didn't think was possible. One of the gentlemen during his devotional talk read a passage, then he spoke for a moment, looked at me and re-read the passage substituting Daddy;s name for the one in the passage.

Colossians 4:7-8 "Tychicus will tell you all about my activities. He is a beloved brother and faithful minister and fellow servant in the Lord. 8I have sent him to you for this very purpose, that you may know how we are and that he may encourage your hearts." G.S. re-read the verse with "Gene Puckett is a beloved brother and faithful minister and fellow servant in the Lord. I have sent Gene Puckett to you for this very purpose. . . that Gene Puckett may encourage your hearts." 

He talked about how much Daddy was an encouragement to not only him, but everyone in our congregation. OF course,  I cried like a baby, but the sad tears were mingled in with the happy. On Sunday morning, I walked down to one of Daddy's favorite spots on campus, the dock, and sat down, turned on one of Daddy's lessons and listened to his voice. That moment on the dock looking over the water and listening to Daddy's voice was the closest I had been to one of his bear hugs since June 15th.  While listening to Daddy's lesson, I heard his voice say, 

"I am not living this Christian life so I can worry about dying. I'm living this Christian life looking forward to when I can leave this earth. . . If you are alive when I die, . . . Rejoice, be glad because I've finally done something I really wanted to do."

Years before he died, Daddy told me exactly what he wanted me to do. Rejoice and be glad. Daddy is where he has always wanted to be, His largest goal has been achieved. 
I am so glad I chose to get on that bus to SEW.