Holiday blues

My grandpa got really sick last year. His health had been declining for awhile, however, a week before Thanksgiving is when it really hit me that he wasn't going to be around forever. He was laying in bed when I had come over to visit on this particular day. I crawled up on the bed and laid down next to him. I cried as I told him that he wasn't supposed to get sick because I needed him very much. He wasn't talking too much because he really didn't feel well, but he did respond to my tears by saying "It's going to be okay Mellisa."

My grandpa was a huge part of my life. He and my grandma are basically dad and mom to me. While I know that it was grandpa's time to go - and that he is no longer in pain  - I've had a hard time holding it together this past month. Everything about the holidays remind me of my grandpa. I just wish he were here. 

I quit drinking over a year ago - and I am proud of myself for it.

I quit drinking a year ago. And I am proud to say that I haven't had even a drop since I decided to stop. There is only one person, besides Greg, that knows exactly why too. Everyone else has there assumptions though. The most common assumption is that "Greg made me" because he doesn't drink. This is false. I couldn't have stopped doing something that I really did enjoy doing just because someone told me I couldn't do it. That is not me at all. I would've rebelled and become bitter about it by now, IF that were the case. 

There are many reasons I chose to stop. In no particular order, I will explain the top reasons I have below.

1. Max. I want to be the best example I can be for this little boy. I do not want him to drink when he's older. I want him to know how to take care of the body he was given as this is the one he was blessed with. This is the same reason I diet and exercise, even though that seems like a losing battle most days... I want my son to look at his mom and know that I value myself and that I am grateful for a healthy body. I want to live a long life for him because I know how it feels to lose your parents in your 20's. I want to always be here on Earth for him, not just in spirit. 

(Really, isn't that the only reason I need? I think so, but I do have others.)

2. I hate the sluggish gross feeling I had after a big night of drinking. There were many mornings and afternoons - if not DAYS - wasted because of drinking the night before. I know all too well how short life is, so why waste any of those days for alcohol? (But before you think I neglected my child for alcohol, just so we're clear, I didn't drink like that when he was with me. It was always when he was with his dad for the weekend.) 

3. Greg. Yes, I'm putting him on my list but not for the reason my friends assume. This man is amazing. It took me over a YEAR to really put myself in his shoes and think about his feelings. I may not have neglected my son because of alcohol, but I did neglect him. Greg enjoys spending as much time with me as he can (as do I with him). So all those mornings/afternoons/days I wasted hungover sleeping in bed, he wasted them too but without the hangover. Think of all the things we could have done if I wasn't hungover and feeling like crap. Again, life is too short to waste your days, let alone someone else's. 

4. I hate making myself look like an ass - and there were many a time drinking made me look just like that. Yes, I have a billion stories about how much fun I had.. but I also I have a billion embarrassing stories as well. And in the end, at least when you have fun sober, you can minimize the acting like a fool part. 

5. My mom. As beautiful, kind, and amazing she was, there were many dark times we had because of alcohol. I do not want to become that part of her, so why even walk near to that line? She was a full blooded Native American, and we all know that Native American's can become alcoholics very easily.. so why tempt that part of me? 

6. I want to be the best girlfriend/partner/fiance/spouse that I can be. The fiance of one of my best friend's is an alcoholic. Being on the sober side, I've seen how it hurts their relationship. I see the irritation, the annoyance, and the pain, that he causes with his inability to stop or even LIMIT the amount he drinks. She tells me over and over that he's doing better, but then he slips - again and again and again. I see that and I know that I don't ever want to do that to my partner. My friend loves this man and will stick by his side because of her love for him - as would Greg for me - but I could not and would not do that to him. It is not fair for him (or for my friend). I want to make him happy and I definitely don't want to cause him heartache. I want our relationship to be as strong as it is now and I want it to grow even stronger.


Don't get me wrong, I loved the feeling alcohol gives you. I loved how it made me less shy and helped me be more outgoing. I loved how it numbed the pain I feel for my mom. But there are so many reasons I have to not drink versus to continue to drink. Honestly, I don't judge those that do drink and there are times when I really do miss it. But I cannot and will not disregard my strong conviction to no longer drink.

Missing her.

Mom, I miss you. I wish you were with me.

I could feel you at Joci's baby shower today. It made me miss you more. Some days are harder than others to be without you.. today is one of them. The pain in my heart is so strong right now. I feel like my chest is compressing completely down on me. It hurts to breathe even.

I stopped drinking October 7th, 2012. Exactly 11 months ago. But I can't remember why. All I can think of is the relief it brought me from this pain... how it made me numb and silenced the screaming inside me.

I need you mom. I wish you were here.

I love you.

And so passes another year without her

3 years ago we lost one of the most beautiful people in the world, my mom. After 3 years, my eyes still instantly fill with tears at the thought of her. I still have days where I have to force myself out of bed when I would rather just lay there and cry for her instead. I also still wake up in tears after having dreamnt of her arms around me once again. And of course there is always the ache in my heart for her that will never go away.

Max was 19 months old when my mom passed away. I doubt he remembers her, however, he talks about grandma Penni on a daily basis. I really don't know what to think about this or how to feel. He tells me how grandma Penni is his other mom and how she said he can have a cookie - which is something my mom would say. (My mom was a wonderful baker and cook, and we were always making cookies and treats with her!) There are even times Max just turns to me with tears in his eyes and says, "I miss grandma Penni." His constant talk about grandma Penni used to hurt --- like knives stabbing my heart --- because I almost preferred to ignore the fact that she was dead by not thinking about her all the time. However, playing into his talk about grandma Penni makes talking about her easier now.

Max of course also talks about how much he misses grandpa Garrard, who passed away 6 months ago, and grandpa Mark, who passed away 4 months ago. This weekend, while at my cousins wedding, I was brought to tears instantly when her and her dad had their dance together. One day when I marry again, and when my sister marries, my grandpa will not be here to dance with us. This thought alone brings me to tears. Our grandfather has played the role of our father the majority of our lives and his death has left yet another hole in my heart.

It's hard for me not to think about the bad anniversaries of things, like mom's "death-day" today, grandpa's 6 month "death-day" last week, dad's 4 month "death-day" a couple weeks ago, etc. My thoughts are consumed with thoughts of how it's been another year/month/birthday since mom/dad/grandpa died for many days and weeks leading up to that date. And unfortunately, after that date passes, the next countdown begins. I have been doing this for 3 years now. I honestly HATE that I do it too, but I really don't know how to not. My mind is very date oriented and it's almost like I HAVE to remember those dates for them so that they know that I am acknowledging they existed such-and-such amount of time ago, and that I am truly sadden by the lapse in time. I know that it is absurd, but I have recently become aware of this and I am trying to change the way I think. I told my friend that it's probably a good thing that dad passed away the day after mom's birthday in April because that month is already "ruined." In April my mind is already consumed with thoughts of how it's mom's birthday and how she's not here to celebrate it with.

More recently I have needed my mom's advice on things. My grandma has played the role of my mother, like grandpa, however, I have never really been able to talk to her like I did with my mom. I think it's the big generation gap or something. Anyway, times when I need her to talk to make it harder on me that she's gone - so I apologize if this post sounds so down. I really am happy and I fully believe I will see her, dad, and grandpa again one day. I just miss them incredibly so.

An all too familiar nightmare

On August 26, 2010 my mom was found dead in her apartment. I remember every single moment of that dreadful evening.  I remember the look on my grandfather's face when he came to my home and told me I needed to come to their house right away. I remember asking what was wrong and getting only the answer "come down to the house". I had been making my son dinner and so when I grabbed my phone I saw that I had multiple missed calls from my sister. As I loaded my son into my car and drove down to my grandparents house I knew exactly what she was going to tell me. Mom was dead.

April 15, 2013, my nightmare reoccurred. My grandma had been unable to reach my dad throughout the day on the phone. As it got later in the evening she became more and more worried. She called me at 5:14 and asked me to text him to see if he'd respond to my text. I did but didn't think anything more about it. At 8:10 she called again to see if he'd texted me back. I replied that he hadn't and to see if cristyle had heard from him. I sent cristyle a text a few minutes later that she responded to saying she was going to go to his house and check on him. I told her to let me know how things were. My stomach was in knots and I kept repeating to myself that he was fine and that grandma always thinks the worse. Dad probably had his phone off or maybe lost it or something.

9:01 my grandma called asking if cristyle had called me. I said no but that'd I would text her and have her call. After cristyle didn't reply to my text, I called her. Her voice was soft and shaky as she said my name. "No no no! What's wrong?!" I yelled into the phone. "Tell me right now!"

Once again, my beautiful sister delivered the news I was praying wasn't true. Another parent.. gone.. the same way.. alone in their home for days after death had come for them. This time my sister had found him though - not the neighbor like for my mom. She'd peered into the back window of the house because he wasn't answering her knocks on the front door. She saw him through the window, laying, unmoving on the couch. After calling 911, she broke the glass as instructed only to find what she already knew was true. Dad was gone.

Heart broken and alone, she waited for the police officers and detective to arrive. Scared to tell my grandma, she called my uncle Jon and told him to go over to grandma's so she wasn't alone to hear that her eldest son was no longer on this earth. Jon delivered the terrible news to my grandma stating through tears,  "he's with dad, mom." Her husband, my beloved grandpa, had died exactly 8 weeks earlier.

My mind is numb. I am very tired yet unable to sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see the same pain on the faces of my siblings that I saw 2 and a half years ago. I see the pity and wordless faces of friends and family again that I saw in those dreadful days proceeding her death. Although I didn't physically see my father lying on his couch, when I close my eyes that's what I see. Pale, cold, and without life, like grandpa 8 weeks ago.

When I do fall asleep, I wake up gasping for air and in a panic. My own screams and cries wake me from what little sleep I've been able to grasp. The only sleep I've had the last two nights is that restless-awake-but-not kind of sleep that I am way too familiar with.

As I stare into the darkness of my room, I can't help but wonder why this is the route God chose to take both my mom and my dad from us. Even my little brother's mom was taken in her sleep five years ago. For them to be here one day than suddenly, without warning, be gone the next, is incredibly hard.

In a way, my grandpa's death was almost a comfort after months of pain and suffering. He gave us time to say good bye and accept that he was passing away soon. Perhaps because my parents and stepmom suffered so much through negative choices they'd made throughout the years, God's relief was more for them than for us? Unlike my grandpa, they'd made choices that made life harder on them, like smoking and alcoholism. Perhaps my grandpa's death was prolonged and foreseen because he could handle that brief pain FOR us so we could adjust easier. Rather than more pain for my parents, God let them come home to Him in their sleep.

It is what it is.

This week has been especially hard on me. My mom passed away over 2 and a half years ago. I find myself thinking more and more about her the closer it gets to Sunday, her birthday. She would be 49. Not only is April her birth month, but April alone says "mom" to me. When I think of April I see flowers and bright happy colors. I think of the rotation of rain and sun and rain and sun all month long. My mom was incredibly beautiful, just like the flowers we see in spring. She had a colorful-bright-"giggly"-happy personality, all things that bright colors like yellow, pink, and green say to me. And just like the weather in April, she would have days of tears and days of happiness.

(I always have a hard time titling my posts.. But especially this one. My post really doesn't have a meaning or story or beginning or end... it just is what it is.)

Gloomy weather - gloomy run

I couldn't get my run right today. My first mile was done in 12:30 and with a combination of walking and sprinting... The next mile I finished around 27 or 28 minutes. I pushed myself the last .10 and an extra .15 miles at 6 mph just so I could finish strong. So all in all I did 2.21 miles in 30 minutes (including my 1.5 minute cool down). At least the 6 mph didn't make me want to puke! That's an improvement, especially because I went longer at that speed than last time.

I've also been doing the 30 day shred by Jillian Michaels. I've done it for 18 days now. The 30 day shred is made up of 3 levels that are significantly harder than the next! On Friday I moved up to Level 2. Level 2 is awesome. It burns so good. I LOVE it. It makes me work so much harder than Level 1 and I sweat like crazy! I did it twice yesterday to make up for not making time to do it on Saturday. I think that was part of the reason I didn't do so well on my run today. That AND my underwear kept riding up, my music kept pausing on my phone for some reason, and my shorts kept creeping up my legs!

6 mph = about to puke

The last tenth of a mile I ran at 6 mph. A tenth of a mile probably doesn't sound like much of a feat to you but for me it is. I also ran the 1/3 of a mile before that at 5.5 mph. I hit the 2 mile mark at 23:54 and thought I might puke as I started slowing down.

23:54 is 26 seconds faster than last time. My 1 mile mark today was hit at 11:50 - running the whole time at a 5.1. My sister called me around mile 1.2 and threw off my grove a little - so that next .5 miles was off (my breathing was wrong and I was no longer in the zone). I forced myself to keep going and focus again and after 1.6 miles I bumped it up to 5.5 (I had slowed down to a 4 during that phone call/post phone call time period). I wanted to finish strong, and I did.

Although I'm not happy that I wasn't consistent with my running speed today, I am happy that I did the 2 miles under 24 minutes.

Run #2

Today I ran another 2 miles. This time in 24:20. My warm-up was not included in this time (I re-set the time and miles after I warmed up). I passed mile 1 at 11:53 - under 12 minutes, which I'm excited about! I made it 1.5 miles staying at 5 mph or higher (18 minutes), but then walked 2 minutes at 4 mph. I finished the last .3 miles at a 5, ending at 24:20.

My "running plan" is to stay at 5 mph for as long as I can until I can run 2 miles without stopping. When I can do the full 2 miles at a 5, I'll bump it up and stay at a 5.1 for 25 minutes, and keep bumping it up a tenth of a mile for those 25 minutes. That will gradually give me a longer run. Hopefully that'll help me speed up. On the weekend I'll not worry so much about speed and just work on distance since I'm running a 5k in June.

Today I started running again

Like my title says, today I started running again. I really hadn't ran for quite awhile - probably since my last post.. I was nervous about how badly I'd do, but pushed myself to the gym anyway. My goal is to run on my lunch break at the gym on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I am just going to run as far as I can for 20-25 minutes (depending on how long it takes to drive to the gym, change, and then allow time to change back, and then driving back to work).

I made it 2 miles in my 25 minute run/jog. After a 1 minute brisk walk, I sped up. At 12:10 I passed mile 1. I was dying, so I had to slow down and brisk walk again. After 2 minutes of walking, I sped up again and kept up the pace. I made it to mile 2 at 24:30, slowed down, and stopped at 25 minutes. I know I should probably warm up longer and slow down longer, but I am pretty pressed for time.. Hopefully it won't hurt me in the long run! (No pun intended...)

I also signed up for my first 5k. It's on June 22 - so just a few month away! I'm hoping to finish under 40 minutes, but honestly, I will be happy to just finish.

What a way to start a Monday

Today I'm feeling upset about my run. I was supposed to run/walk 3.5 miles today, but I didn't make it. I barely made it to 2.2 miles. My legs just wouldn't listen to me. I couldn't get my breathing right. And overall, my body just felt tired. Even now, walking from my car to my desk at work, my legs are achy and not happy to be moving. The run on Saturday was tough on me, I don't think physically I've recovered enough to run 3.5 miles, even though I rested all day yesterday AND took a 2 hour nap.

In two days, Wednesday, I'm supposed to run 2 miles. Because I only did 2 today, I'm going to walk/run 3.5 instead. Then on Friday walk/run 2 miles like my schedule says and hopefully this tweak will keep me on schedule to run 4 miles on Saturday.

End of week 2

Yesterday was the end of week 2 of my running schedule. I ran the 3 miles at 5.2 mph, finishing with a time of 34:38. The night before I'd run 2 miles at 5.3 mph, finishing time of 22:38 (my fastest!), but it was EXHAUSTING. I told myself if I ran a tiny bit slower I wouldn't wear myself out before reaching 3 miles, which is what I was afraid would happen. At the beginning of my run my goal was to run 2 miles at 5.2 and the last mile at a 5. But as I past 2 miles I told myself, "OK, I made it to my goal. Anytime now I can slow down to 5 mph, but I bet I could make it to 2.25 miles. Afterall, I ran last nights 2 miles faster than I did today." So I focused on the movie playing on the screen in front of me and kept running.

I continued to set small attainable goals, finally finishing the 3 miles going the same speed the entire run. It was hard! Thinking about how next Saturday I'm supposed to run 4 miles is frightening to me! But, as my sister always says, I can do hard things. I am very thankful that I have the ability to push myself past what I believe is my limit. I am also very thankful I do not have asthma!

Tomorrow I am supposed to run/walk 3.5 miles. My goal is to try to run this entire length at 5.2 mph. I already did 3 miles at that speed, realistically I could probably make it another 1/2 mile further at it. 3.5 miles sounds so intimidating to me though! I've only ever ran 3 miles twice before yesterday, so a total of 3 times. I've never ran 3.5 miles and I'm nervous I won't make it. I am going to try my hardest though, and I will make it.

I love the "high" I get from running. I feel so alive as I breathe in and out telling myself I am amazing and can make it to the next .25 mile. I love how my skin tingles with excitement while my chest pounds like a drum. I love how I feel after I run, red faced and dripping with sweat. I love that I improve every time I run; even if it's only an improvement of a few seconds. These feelings are what drives my goal to become a runner.

My Drive

Have you ever felt an overwhelming drive for something you really REALLY want in your life? Maybe not everyone knows the feeling I’m talking about. It’s this incredible feeling that consumes me. I felt it when I wanted more than anything to get out of debt. All I thought about were ways to lower my cost of living and ways to bring in more money. My budget was flawless, every dime accounted for. I worked a second job. I pinched every penny possible. Finally making it to the top of my mountain and becoming queen of my finances.  Maybe the drive I am describing comes from my goal oriented nature and my NEED to work toward something in my life so I can feel productive and accomplished. 

My drive now is to become a runner. I’ve never been a runner, nor have I ever been an athlete. In my 25 years, the most athletic thing I’ve done is marching band – which really isn’t strenuous at all. My grandparents, with whom I grew up with, never put me in a sport or pushed me to learn one. I also never had the confidence you need to even make yourself learn to play a sport. In gym, I didn’t try to learn any of the sports they taught you about because I didn’t think I could do it even if I tried. So I’m starting from scratch.

The whole thing has consumed me. Not a day goes by that I don’t talk about a run I did that morning or a run I’m going to do the next day. Or even an article I read about running. I have awesome running shoes and outfits. I have a schedule I’m sticking to from a fitness magazine that says that even a newbie racer can run half-marathon at the end of the 8 weeks. It’s pinned to my cubicle wall, right next to my computer screen, so I can look at it all day long. 

When this drive consumes like this, like I stated above, it’s all I talk about. I’m sure my coworkers, family, and friends are tired of hearing about my morning run on the treadmill. I’m sure they are tired of hearing how my next goal is to run X amount of miles in X amount of minutes. This is why I’m writing this blog. I need to talk about it so I can stick with it. I need to get it out there so I can focus on my job and other daily activities as well as my goal. 

I finished Week 1 of the 8 Week schedule I’m working on. It went well I think. Below is a copy of the schedule. 

On Monday, July 30, 2012, I ran both miles in 28:30. I don’t remember exactly how I felt doing it or afterwards. But from now on I plan to write about how I felt during and after my run. On Wednesday, August 1, 2012, I know I was hurrying so I could get home to my sick kid, so I ran at a 4.5 the majority of the time I believe. I did those 2 miles in 25:40. Shaved off nearly 3 minutes!

On Friday, August 3, 2012, it took me 25:50 to do 2 miles. The majority of that time I stayed at a 4.5 again. On Saturday, August 4, 2012 I ran the ENTIRE time at a 5. Well during the first mile I went up to a 5.5 for a little bit so I could run the first mile in under 12 minutes. To do both miles this day, it took 23:50. 

I was exhausted (yet energized!) after my run on Saturday. I really didn’t think I’d make it the whole way at 5 mph, but I did. For me, a 5 is hard! Again, I am a beginner runner, plus I’m out of shape. I’ve lost 65 lbs over the past 2 years, but still have 45 more to go. Just know, when I say “run”, it is probably the speed of your jog – or brisk walk even. But I don’t care; I will improve, as long as I keep at it. :) 

I started Week 2 today, August 6, 2012. I wasn’t feeling very excited or enthused to run at all after my earlier than expected awakening this morning. My 3 year old son had an accident while he slept and came into my room at 5 – 30 minutes before I planned to get up – so I was in a bad mood because of that. I wasn’t mad at him, just annoyed that I missed out on 30 minutes of sleep that I wanted.  I forced myself to the gym anyway. Today I walked/ran the scheduled 3 miles. It took me 41 minutes.. not great, but at least I forced myself to finish. I really wanted to just stop after .5 miles and take a nap before work at 8am, but I kept going. I stayed at a 4 for the most part; occasionally bumping it up to a 5. 

I am very tired today, making it hard to focus at work. I’m hoping my body will get used to the running/jogging and the earlier mornings soon so I don’t have to be so tired all day. I’m still happy and excited about my plan though. I don’t entirely believe this schedule is possible, but I’m going to try my hardest anyway! The magazine claims this is the schedule to do if you currently run fewer than 15 miles per week (or not at all), so here goes nothing!

Please come back home.

"Where'd you go? I miss you so, feels like it's been forever since you've been home. Please come back home."
Tonight I took Max to his first pow-wow. The dancers and music were as beautiful as always. However, I left feeling a little depressed. Naturally it reminded me of my mom, and lately she's all I can think about. So going to a pow-wow for the first time since we buried her was really hard. I held it together the whole time but really, every bit of me just wanted to sob and cry for her. It was incredibly hard to sit there thinking about my mom then suddenly get this horrible wave of realization that she really is gone and I can't see or talk to her.
It has been 11 months since they found her dead in her apartment. 11 months. It still hurts as bad as it did the evening we heard the heart breaking news. Over the past 11 months I've found myself thinking about her or thinking of something I want to talk to her about, then getting slammed with that horrible feeling. The feeling of "oh yeah, she's gone." It hurts more than you can imagine. My heart literally feels like it is being stabbed over and over and over.
I wish the pain would go away, or at least lessen, even just a little bit. But no. 11 months later and it still hurts my whole entire body to think about her. I miss laying in her arms while she held me as if I were still a child but yet an adult. I miss that happy uplifting giggle she had that just made you smile or laugh just hearing it. I miss her beautiful kind face. I can still see her expressions in my mind - the way she looked at us kids and the way she looked at Max. There's no doubt in my mind of how much she loved us.
It hurts that I didn't really get that much time with her. She died when I was 23 but out of those 23 years, I saw her maybe half of it. I feel so robbed by god for him taking her away from us so early in our lives and hers. I just want to hug her again. I want to talk to her so badly about so many things. I need her love and support so much right now. But she's gone. And I can't see her. Or talk to her. My heart hurts so much I just don't know what to do anymore so please mom, please come back home.

Mommy's helper

Max is just over 2 years old. I love this little guy more then anything in the world. He has a wonderful personality, always wanting to help me out. The other day we were at Walmart picking up some things we needed. He was in the cart eating his churro as he watched me jump as high as I could to reach the diapers at the back of the top shelf. After a few failed frustrating attempts to reach them, I looked around to see if I could find someone to help me out. I turned to Max as said, "I help you, mommy." My frustration melted as I smiled back at him and said "Ok baby, thank you." I unbuckled the seatbelt and picked him up out of the cart. I held him over my head and onto the top shelf and my little helper reached the extra 4 inches I could not to finally get those diapers.

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