I feel like this is the only way to describe how my week has been. It has seriously sucked. I’m trying to keep it together but in light of my brother’s situation it’s not happening. My brother has left the hospital and as of today is refusing to seek any sort of in-patient treatment. How you go from having alcohol related seizures, almost dying, being hooked up to ventilator, hallucinating and losing all motor skills to walking out of the hospital without a plan of action is way beyond my comprehension.
I’m finding it hard not to take this emotional crap that he carries and wear it myself. I know I said “if he refused to go to treatment, I wouldn’t continue a relationship with him” but I didn’t actually think he’d refuse.
Seriously who would refuse after all that?
So here I am. Full of even more anger. Full of even more sadness. He no longer stands at the crossroad between getting sober and dying drunk. He picked his road. Now I stand at my own crossroad. Let him go or continue to be emotionally tied to his alcoholism. Free myself or continue to live under the shadow of my family’s inability to live up to our potential.You’d think it would be an easy road to pick.
People often say “Tara, you’re so strong” or “Tara, you just have a great attitude towards life” but it wasn’t that way until I started this journey a short four months ago. I was a high functioning depressed person. I knew how to hide what I was feeling. I knew how to eat my way into some form of doableness (yes, I just made that word up). I knew how to get lost in a fantasy world and forget that I existed as a human being. I knew how to live as my family lived…a walking dead person.
I’ve tried for so long to explain to people that this weight loss journey isn’t just about watching the scale go down in numbers. It’s about getting my life back. It’s about looking at this picture:
And deciding that this sad woman deserves more than just weighing 263 pounds and living a life full of depression. Living no life at all really. I use words like “Fight”, “Battle”, “War” “Casualty” because that’s what this is for me. If I didn’t do something I would end up just like my mother (dead at 52), just like my oldest brother (dead at 50) and soon to be just like the youngest brother (alive at 46 but for how much longer?). I didn’t think anyone understood.
Until I read this post
Sentences pop out at me like a punch in the gut.
“change becomes life or death.“
“A sense of urgency kicks in.“
“It’s that moment where you know it’s game over unless you do something to save yourself.“
For the first time someone just described what the last four months of my life has been about. Not just the last four months behind me but the years ahead of me too. Every drop of sweat, every mile run, every tractor tire pushed and every lap swam is taking me farther and farther away from the picture up there.
and closer to my potential
So I’m sending out a special thanks to Rachel today. She’s fought my war and survived. It gives me hope that I too will survive. One drop of sweat at a time.
GAH, now that the emotional dump truck is out of the way I can move on to the official pre OWiS Week in Review. I’ve had some great ups and some not so great downs. It was just a week to put my head down and push through to the weekend, which I will enjoy immensely by kicking some ass on the elliptical and swimming some serious laps in the pool. If I’m not too sore on Sunday I’m shooting for a non-stop 3.1 mile run. With that, lets move on to the review:
Sunday: I signed up for my first Weekend Warrior Challenge put on by Brandon. I drank my gallons of water, did my 70 bosu ball sit-ups and swam 90 laps in the pool. I would have also practiced for my upcoming half marathon walk, but my brother decided to have seizures and get airlifted to the hospital…way to go brother.
Monday: I saw Superman and earned me some battle scars. I also spent the day at the hospital.
Tuesday: I ran a personal best mile of 12:10 seconds. I wanted to swim a mile but eeked out 50 laps. Then I went to the hospital.
Wednesday: After three long days of being at the hospital I decided I needed to get back to some sense of normalcy. I ellipticalled, I stair climbed, I sit uped, I ran a mile…oh and I pushed the tire tractor on my own.
Thursday: I saw Superman, I pushed an even bigger tractor tire and my short lived 12:10 mile was beat out by a 12:02 mile. Oh and I won my very first blog award!
Friday: My short lived 12:02 mile was beat out by a 12:01 mile. I am flying!
I worked hard this week despite the fubarrifficness that occurred. The scale has been all over the place this week. Loss or gain, I don’t much care. Monday I open up a can of WWOPD and kicking this crap goodbye!
See you tomorrow!