I'm an author.

Something I've always dreamed of being able to say is that I published a book. Writing has always been a sort of therapy for me. I've written song lyrics for friends (and music, but that's another story), poems, short stories, and have a good start on several fiction pieces that I can't seem to pull together into anything cohesive. There are binders and binders of scribbled words going back to early childhood. So why and how did I finally get my shit together enough to do this?

For those who aren't at all sure what I'm talking about, I published my first book in mid-November of 2017.  It's called His Name Was Hogan: My Life with a Remarkable Doberman Pinscher. If you're even more removed from me than that, Hogan was my red-headed Doberman who was one of my soul mates in life. We lost him on June 10, 2016. 

I used to write a blog called Being Hogan, which was unique in that it was written from the dog's perspective. Hogan had quite the following through this blog and his Facebook page.  We heard from people all around the world who could relate, or just found him to be a bright spot in their day. When Hogan passed, a huge part of my creative outlet went with him.

I started this blog in an attempt to keep writing, and have heard from many people since that I should write a book. I started sifting through things I've written in the Fall of 2017, but couldn't seem to bring anything back to life. I began a new story, that does have some signs of hope to be completed, but still just wasn't feeling it. On my birthday, it hit me. If I write about something I know, feel, and understand thoroughly, it'll be a great experience. That "something" was my boy.

I started writing that night. The next day, my husband was ill and ended up in the hospital. My emotions reached an all new level of frantic those 4 days until he was back home and we had a game plan for recovery. Once I could focus again, I went back to the book. I was consumed! I stayed up late, woke up early, jotted thoughts down mid-day, etc. I simultaneously began researching what the heck I should do with it once I was done. I figured an eBook would be great. No up-front cost. Easy access for people. A lot less "work" on my part to get it ready to put out there. Not that I'm afraid of work... more that I'm afraid of sharing my life, haha! I figured if no one saw the eBook, oh well. 

You see, the writing process was extremely cathartic for me. Remembering back to how I even learned about Hogan, his coming home, our relationship, all the people in my life because of and through him, right down to his last day, was a bit of an escape for me. It also was grueling and horrible. But at the end of it all, I felt relieved somehow. Like all those memories of Hogan weren't just locked up in my head. Like I could breathe again.

I found a lot of helpful info on the web about self-publishing, including who to use and why, how and where to create a book cover for an eBook, how to format your book before uploading, copyright info, and on and on. The more I read, the less likely I felt inclined to publish this after all. But I pushed on.  November 14th, I uploaded my book to Kindle Direct Publishing, went through all their checks, and was told it'd be available for purchase "soon". I almost passed out. I'm extremely critical of myself and had myself convinced, before it even was publicly available, that it completely sucked. No one would like the content, the length, the price, my style, etc. But then I remembered that I wasn't doing this for any of that. It didn't matter one bit what the entire world thought of it. I did it for Hogan. And I was (and still am) proud of him and proud of this book. So before I got completely cold feet, I made a post about it on Facebook.  You know, because that makes stuff more real ;-)

I was immediately asked a million questions, many along the lines of "what if I don't have a way to read an eBook?". Luckily, during my research on self-publishing, I had learned quite a bit about On Demand Printing. Once again, this option has no up-front cost. The formatting is different, the book cover design is more involved, you have to number pages, etc. And who knew how the book would actually turn out. Would it be good quality?

I worked into the night reformatting things and submitted it to KDP, once again, to be reviewed for On Demand Printing. When I woke up November 15th, I had the email from KDP that the book was available! Naturally, I ordered a copy and began checking my mailbox for it that night 😂

When my copy arrived, I was pleasantly surprised and a wee bit weepy. Seeing everything right there in print was just overwhelming. I woke up from a bit of a fog that I now refer to "the week I made a book". Since then, I've had many more teary-eyed moments talking to friends, old and new, who bought the book and can relate to my experience. I've been asked to sign books for people, which still completely blows my mind. I've recounted many, many more stories of Hogan, which always adds a bright spot to any day. 

As of today, I've sold 99 copies, which I'm extremely humbled by and grateful for. I'm proud of my book. I'm amazed I went through with it. I look forward to writing another.

~Kristen

Hand shy dogs who run away... ugh.

On my way to work, I saw a bright white flash up ahead on a fast-paced country road.  As I got closer, I realized it was a dog and then saw something dark on one paw.  I pulled my car partially off the road, put on my hazards, grabbed a leash, and off I went. I stand still near my car and try sweet talking him softly. I try walking slowly towards him, happy and calm voice, but he gets nervous and starts running.  Thankfully, he ran off the road and down a driveway.

As I followed him down the driveway to the sound of people honking at my car in the road as they sped past, I thought "this is going to be a long morning".  But then I heard barking of other dogs and realized aha, this could be good!  Sure enough, loose boy ran towards them, and I had hope that this was his home.  We encountered a gated driveway where the resident dogs were clearly not pleased at our arrival.  A lady from the house came out, verified this is not her dog, but as the wanderer was at the gate trying to check out the resident dogs, I went for him with a lasso fashioned out of the leash.  Missed him, so tried to get his collar and man, he was NOT having any of it.  Eventually, I got him with the lasso and after spinning around like a whirling dervish for a bit, he calmed down a little.  I got him to my car, fed him some snacks I had with me, and eventually got a look at his tag (by feeding him with one hand and cautiously grabbing the tag with another).  As I got near his home about 5 minutes away, his family was out frantically looking for him.

Here's the lesson, though... please do your best to get your dogs used to being handled, especially grabbed by the collar. I know that can be tricky, and I realize in today's situation that I was a stranger, the dog was stressed, and that could have been all his problem with me was.  But the owner freely admitted he hated having his collar touched by anyone, and was at the vet yesterday (thus the bandaged leg) and they had trouble with him, too.  Please know that I understand it's very hard with some dogs to work on this. But try. Please. For their sake.

Recalls are something I always practice with my dogs and, every time they come to me, I grab their collar and have a huge party about it. I do this not just with my puppies, but for their entire lives.  Why do you think my Hogan liked playing dress up so much? Whenever I'm putting a collar on or taking one off of a dog, I talk about how awesome the collar is, how handsome/beautiful the dog is, etc.  People often think I'm nuts, but the end result is that anyone can grab my dogs by the collar.  I've had people tell me during training "I don't want anyone able to grab my dog! They could be taken by a stranger!".  I get their point.  But what I really don't want is to have my dog hit by a car because no one can catch him, or a dog who tries to nail a vet or vet tech during an emergency, or an animal control officer who can't read my dog's tag or scan for his microchip because the dog won't let anyone near him.  There are certainly no guarantees when a dog is loose, and it happens to ALL of us.  But let's arm the dogs with as many tools as we can to help in their getting back home.  

Here are some articles to check out about hand shy dogs and recalls.
How to Help Hand Shy Dogs
How to Train a Happy Recall

I'm happy all turned out well for this guy today.  I'm thankful my bosses are dog people and completely support me coming in late because of this.  <3

~K

Stroke-like migraines, you suck.

I've been a sufferer of migraines since puberty.  What started as classic migraines (the eyeball pain, sensitivity to sound and light, nausea kind) has evolved over the years to my primarily now suffering from hemiplegic (mimics a stroke) migraines.  For me, they are typically triggered by stress and/or my menstrual cycle.  Yeah, yeah, I know that many people get migraines, so why am I writing?

A lot of folks don't realize there even is such a thing as a hemiplegic migraine, let alone what it's like to go through one.  As I suffered through one last night, with my dear husband mentioning all manner of things to try and help me, I figured I should, at some point, try to explain things better.  So here I am.  As with everything I write, this is just my version of events.  I do not need or want sympathy. I'm sharing on the off chance someone else can relate and not feel so alone and so those around me better understand what is happening during these episodes, from my point of view.

My first sign that something is coming (known in the medical world as the migraine "aura") is pins and needles, usually down the entire left side of my body... head to toe.  Shortly thereafter, irritation is added in.  And I'm not talking about the kind of irritability where someone is a pest and you just wish they'd stop.  This is all out, totally consuming irritation at every single thing and person around me.  I bounce my leg at a rapid speed, try to avoid everyone (well, more than usual, haha), and am downright frustrated.  Things seem to stop making sense.  My normally fast-paced way of doing everything is slowed to nearly a quarter of the speed.  My typing becomes garbled, often times resulting in emails that have a lot of numbers in them if I were to let them go uncorrected (3 for e, 4 for h, etc).  My hands type away to what my brain is saying, but it's gibberish.  My eyes (which are never painful in this type of migraine, btw), see the complete rubbish I'm typing so then I have to delete and try again.  3 for e... NO.  3 for e... godammmmit, NO!  E.  Phew!  This, as you might imagination, ramps up the irritability and agitation levels significantly.

I start talking and while I hear it OK in my head, I can tell it is absolutely not coming out in actual English.  Like my typing, it is utter gobbledy goop.  I take some deep breaths and try to focus on what I'm saying, which results in a stutter or nothing coming out at all.  Concerned faces stare back at me.  I'm draped in confusion while trying to process the most basic of tasks.  Meanwhile, the left side of my body is completely numb.  Not like it's fallen asleep, but like I have no control over it whatsoever.  This pairing blossoms my relationship with frustration.

Sometimes I think "maybe I'll just have a snack... surely that'll help.".  I wish I had video of those attempts, honestly, because it is fascinating how wrong it goes.  Hand-eye coordination is out the window and most things end up smeared on my cheek or start going up my nose before I realize my hand is even near my face.  Add to that the fact that half my face and throat are numb, so when I finally get the food in my mouth, swallowing isn't pretty. At this point, I'm completely ashamed of myself.  And believe me, I have the most amazing family, co-workers, and friends who would never, ever make me or want me to feel that way.  It's just how I feel.  And bless their poor hearts, any attempt to help me or ease my angst is quickly halted.  I want to be helped, but don't help me, dammit. Ugh.

Nausea settles in.  A dull throbbing in my head starts.  I want all lights off and all sound to cease.  The best thing to do is to lie down and let my body recoup.  Schmitty is fantastic at identifying when this is happening, often long before I do.  His questioning of it isn't always the smoothest ("is something wrong with your head?"), but he knows just how to get me through.  Even though I'm sure I seem like a grade A bitch at the time, for which I apologize repeatedly, I'm forever grateful for my husband.  He brings me anti-nausea meds, helps me get into jammies and bed, and he tends to everything else going on so I can forget it all.  He checks on me and, if I'm sleeping, lets me be.  If I'm not, he brings a cool rag for my head and asks what he can do.

Lately, a good night's sleep helps me reset.  My speech is first to come back, the tingling fades, food stays down, pain is gone, and I'm no worse for the wear within a day or two.  If you ever encounter me and I'm acting like any of the above, or if we're ever together and I suddenly need to leave, it's likely related to this ball of fun my body hurls itself into periodically.  It's not personal.  I just need to stop and take care of myself for a bit.

Sidebar:  Please, if you're ever feeling any of these types of symptoms, do not assume you're just having something like I've had.  I *know* this is my problem after decades of regular testing and ruling out every other thing possible.  And, every time this happens, I run through the stroke check list to be sure it isn't actually a stroke.   This is NO joking matter.  Please always seek medical help immediately!  Do you know the stroke symptoms checklist?  Please familiarize yourself.

No matter how many of these migraines I get, I am scared shitless every single time.  I know I'll be fine even as it is happening, but it's beyond bizarre to have no control over some basic functions of your body.  I remove myself from those around me so I can try to regroup and not strike out in aggravation. I do my best to see it as a reminder to step back and try to relax.  And I hope to fall asleep until it's over.

~Kristen

I miss Hogan more than words can ever express.

As we approach the year mark since my most amazing Hogan left this world, I find myself reflecting on how different life is now.  He was, without a doubt, my best friend in life.  We went through the best of times and the worst of times together.  He calmed my nerves.  He made me bold.  He taught me to live in the moment.  To be thankful.  To not sweat the small stuff.  To love without limitations.  He was always there for me, even when I didn't deserve his loyalty.

Of course I knew life would go on without his constant companionship.  But I ache for him.  His smell.  His ginormous "smart bump" whacking me in the face.  The feel of his buttsy resting on my foot.  His attempts at smiling, but really just looking like he had to fart.  I miss watching him and Mike play their silly games together.  Seeing him play dress-up with Katie, watching movies with Bobby, and playing fetch with Mikey.  It never mattered what we were doing, he was there and part of it.  He was always happy, simply because he was included.  
 

Hogan made more friends in life than I ever have, and it's evidenced by the letters and emails I still receive addressed to him.  Notes saying how much he's missed.  He knew no enemies.  He did an amazing job representing the Doberman Pinscher breed.  He taught people about Dobes as a PR boy for rescue.  He met people while out and about on the town, and always left them with a positive feeling about the breed.  And he LOVED all the attention.

The question has been posed by many, in all different ways, as to how I'm doing now that we have Zyan... the implication being I should be all better.  I don't really think it's a fair question, though.  Every being in my life carves out their own special place in my heart.  Hogan just happened to carve out an extra-large portion for himself.  Everyone who has gone before him still has their spot, as well... Merlin, Cali, Sarah, and Pookie.  Little Rory, who is neither little nor gone, is a big part of my heart as well, even now that he's back with his parents.  And of course Sophie the Boston :-)

We are, without a doubt, head over heels in love with Zyan.  He is one hell of a boy, and we feel blessed every single day to be his mom and dad.  He, too, has wiggled his handsome self deeply into my heart and I look forward to every single day's adventures, laughs, and snuggles.  But that doesn't change or ease the ache I have for my Boozy Bear.  He was larger than life, and life is just not the same without him.  I have no expectations of Zyan other than to be the best "him" he can be.  And he does that... every single day.  The two boys are not comparable at all, except that they both hold extremely special places in my heart.

Moms misses you more than ever, my sweetest baby boy.  Know that I've found some laughter and joy again, as I know that's what you'd have wanted most.


~Kristen

Suicide. There. I said it.

The topic I'm approached about most often is losing a loved one to suicide.  It's a word I don't like hearing or saying.  I don't like reference to it.  I really don't like those little combos of emojis that imply it.  For those who don't know, I lost my brother in 1997 to suicide.  Anyone who knew him loved him and misses him greatly.  Jeff was my absolute best friend in life.  He taught me most everything I know: unconditional love, how to laugh, how to make others laugh, how to save every single kind of injured animal there was, how to make voices for those animals, how to have someone's back, how to accept everyone for exactly who they are, how to get through the crappiest of times, and the list goes on and on.  Jeff was 4 years older than me, and I vividly remember growing up as "one of the guys", as he took me with him and his friends everywhere.  I was his pride and joy, and he was mine.

Skip forward to the day I found out he was gone.  My world shattered.  The sky fell down. I knew instantly part of me died and I'd never be the same person.  A blinding rage took over.  Not at him, never at him, but at the world.  For not being a place he felt part of.  For not changing everything so he'd stay.  Depression was my friend.  There was a horrible sense of secondary loss of people you thought were your friends, but couldn't deal with the fact that your brother did this, so they just bailed.  And then there were others who you didn't realize loved you regardless, and so your little circle of people grew by one or two.  The emotions involved in this clusterfuck of a situation are varied.  None are wrong.  None are even bad, in my opinion.  We all handle things in life so differently.  A loss of this magnitude is going to be processed in all sorts of ways. Let it all out. Find someone, any one, who will listen to you and not judge (and yes, I know how hard that can be).

When someone dies, I never know what to say.  In the case of a loss to suicide, I'll tell you what you should not say, though... "I know how you feel" or "I can imagine how awful that must be". Unless you've lost a loved one to suicide, you CANNOT imagine what it feels like.  Just as I cannot imagine what child birth feels like.  Or drug addiction.  Or sky diving.  Or losing your child to suicide (yes, that's right... my mom and I can't really relate, and we lost the same person).  So please be very careful when dealing with anyone on this topic.  Unless you've been in their shoes, don't say you understand.   My go to is "I just don't know what to say, but I'm here for you, I love you, I'll help in any way I can".   Honesty is good stuff.

I have gripes about this whole topic, though, that have nothing to do with the actual loss but more with stuff I see out there on the interwebs.  There are many different things on social media about suicide... hoping to prevent it, trying to understand it.  Obviously, I'm all for not losing people to suicide.  But I think it's glossed over too quickly, and statuses are copied and pasted without any real thought behind them, and some things that are said are just horrendous.  Things like "what a selfish thing to do", "how could they do that", "why did they do that", "who could do that", "what about those left behind", "just call this help line", "it can't be that bad". Listen, I get all that on some level.  But by asking people who are truly suffering to think of what it'll do to US left behind is a little hypocritical, isn't it?  We don't want them to focus on themselves, but WE want to focus on us?  And are they really even focusing on themselves in this act?? Folks, we've got it all wrong.  Yes, I think offering help is necessary.  I think we need to take mental health far more seriously in general.  But I don't think for one second that everyone can be or even WANTS to be "saved". And I don't think those who are left behind were meant to figure it out.  What good does that do, anyway?  It does not bring the person back.  And we're not going to know the why.  I don't care if there's a letter, we are not that person, and we do not know.  It's not any of our business anyway, and often times, for those of us left behind, it's just a horrible thing to think about again.  They are gone, and now we have to pick up the pieces and honor them.  Cherish all the things that made them who they were.  Help their memory live on.  Cry. Laugh. Scream.  All of it.

Believe me, I'd rather never talk about my experience again.  Because that's how I deal... I bury shit deep inside and try to pretend it didn't happen.  I realize that's not the greatest attitude and perhaps one day someone can write a thesis about me for psych class, but that's for me to worry about.  However, I am very, very aware of how it feels to lose someone and I also know how good it felt when I finally found people to speak to who understood me and my loss.  So I will ALWAYS have an open ear and door open for anyone who is sad, lonely, thinking of suicide, lost someone to suicide, etc.  Do not ever hesitate to reach out.  Don't feel bad for asking. And please don't feel sad for me now.  I'm a better person for having had Jeff in my life and have so many amazing memories to cherish.

I wish Jeff could've seen and done so many things with me.  I wish he knew my husband.  I am absolutely certain they would've loved each other, genuinely. So we talk about him. How he'd love Yosemite as much as we do.  He'd love our house.  He'd adore the kids and our pups. And we smile.  And we shed tears.  And our hearts ache.  But we are not alone.  I'm not a very faithful or religious person, but I know he's with me.  Every single day.  I talk to him, he visits me in dreams, he moves shit around my house. I know it. And I laugh and thank him for that.

I really don't mean to sound like a bitter person, or someone who knows everything on this topic.  I'm far from it.  I simply ask you to please remember this: do not judge folks for things they do or have done.  Especially after someone's gone and can't even defend themselves.  Don't judge their family members and friends who are left behind.  We don't know the half of what is going on with others, even when we think we do.  Wish the absolute best for them.  Hope they find happiness.  And if they can't, hope with all that you have that they've found peace. That's what I hope for my Jeff <3

~K

Jeffrey Daniel Carey

5.3.70 - 8.1.97

Random thoughts of a step parent

Step-parenting is a topic that I'm approached about regularly, so here comes a blog that scratches the surface. Please note that I've never felt, thought, or indicated that I'm the mother of Mike's kids.  I'm not.  It's that simple.  When I refer to the kids in my life, I rarely include "my" with it unless I'm talking about the dogs.  I won't claim to understand what biological moms (and dads) have been through or are going through when it comes to many issues regarding their children, particularly the whole birthing part, never sleeping, etc.  Or what adoptive parents go through.  Or single/widowed parents.  Just as those folks don't understand the challenges unique to step parents.  But I do understand the challenges of living with children, thanks to my 3 incredible step children.  I have a good idea of how torturous it feels when kids are hurting or sad, how elated you feel when they are happy and celebrating successes, and the frustration you feel when they're being a pain in the ass in general. ;-)

Shortly after meeting Mike and his two sons and daughter, I realized my life was about to forever change.  I was heading into uncharted waters, and I was fairly terrified.  Not only was I trying to comprehend this man in my life who truly just wanted me to be happy, but I was learning about his 10, 7, and 5-year-old children as well.  So I joined some online step parenting groups and holy smokes, they were not for me.  The two groups I was in were filled with people who had a lot of anger and jealousy and resentment going on.  Believe me, I understand to some degree that it can be difficult to be married to a man, his kids, and (essentially) his ex-wife.  That's fodder for a whole 'nuther blog, actually. I also understand needing a place to vent that doesn't involve your husband, too, but I was looking more for some magical place that told you how to do this parenting stuff.  How to be the best stepmom ever!  Ah, how silly I am sometimes.  So I removed myself from those groups and spent my time talking to parents who I think do an amazing job with and for their kids.

Anyone who has exposure to kids realizes the many shifts in attitude, preferences, happiness level, etc. as they grow.  Or even in one afternoon.  I remember asking Mike early on how he always just knew what to do with his kids.  He said, quite bluntly, "I have no clue what I'm doing. You just make it up as you go along as a parent".  Mike is an amazing father, and his ability to know what to do so naturally often frustrates me.  I'm definitely the more reactive of the two of us, though (go ahead and chuckle, those of you who know us well), and I always jump to the worst possible scenario first.  That dear man talks me off the ledge more times than not.

But here's what I've learned about being a step parent since meeting the kidlets 6-1/2 years ago.  These are things I've learned through my own experience as a stepchild, as a stepmom whose stepkids still have both parents very active in their lives, and from fellow step parent friends.  I know some step parents are actually replacing an actual parent (due to death or absence, etc.) and I won't speak to those experiences.  This is just my little view of things.  And I think a lot of these things apply to kids in general, no matter how you're involved in their life.
- Remember that the kids have parents already.  That's not your job.  You are here to support your spouse and be a good role model for the kids.  I know of several people who get very upset/offended if their stepchildren don't call them mom (or dad, but I see it way more with stepmoms).  Um, you're not.  That's not a realistic expectation, so please don't get all upset with the kid(s).  The same goes when the child wants their mom/dad when they are not having a good day. It's a pretty natural reaction, when you think about it.  I'm 42-years-old and when the shit hits the fan, I want my mommy!
- Let them call you whatever they are comfortable with.  For me, it was KC for many years.  Now it's Kristen, or "my stepmom", or "hey"!  This also is something to consider when you're out in public with them and someone refers to you as the parent ("having a good time with your mom today?").  Ask the kids how they want that handled, and do what they say.  I typically just say "oh, I'm not their mom, but so lucky to be part of their lives" or some such thing.  That tends to stop the child's discomfort and move the conversation swiftly along.
- Realize they may not like you, at least in principle, and that's OK.  Their parents have separated.  They are adjusting to a whole new world.  As a person whose parents divorced, I get it. Even if/when divorce was the best solution, kids are pissed about it.  And now here YOU are, you jerk!  ;-)  Give them time.  Be there for them whenever they come around.  Unless you actually are an idiot, remember it's likely not you they are reacting to.
- Never speak poorly of the bio parent.  I learned this lesson very well from my classy mother who, although armed with more than enough fuel to, never spoke ill of my father.  She still doesn't.  She encouraged me to visit him and keep up a relationship.  Which I didn't, but that's through no fault of hers.  Here's the thing: kids are WAY smarter and more intuitive than we give them credit for.  They'll figure out each parent's deal.  Let them.  Help them in positive ways if they want your guidance.  But leave the trash talk out of it!  They'll know later in life who did what and who is always there for them.  Be the one they automatically KNOW has their back.  Don't worry about what the other parent is doing.
- Come across as a united front with your spouse.  Mike is the kids' dad and what he says goes.  I don't always agree with him, but I back him up Every.Single.Time.  He, too, has learned to ask me if I've already answered a question, as kids love that two-ends-to-the-middle game, which we fell prey to more than a few times.  We talk about things privately when things come up that could go a number of ways.  But I've found that kids respond well to solidarity, and to knowing whichever person they talk to, it's going to be the same result.  It brings stability.
- You can't buy them.  Listen, I fully understand the tendency to go overboard giving the kids things.  You see the happiness on their faces, and you think maybe they'll be more excited to see you and spend time with you.  Just ask the two youngest about the time we spent $99.99 for those stupid rubber-band bracelet things.  They need to like you for who you are though.  NO kid will turn down gifts.  That's just not possible.  So spare your wallet the pain, and just be you.

I love being a stepmom, and I can't imagine life without the kids.  They make me happy.  They make me proud.  They make me want to pull my hair out.  They make me feel like I am making a difference somehow.  They make me feel loved, and I couldn't possibly love them more <3

~K

Exercise is not my favorite

I know, I know... kinda dumb to say considering I run a fitness-based business!  I try to keep it real, though, so for the sake of honesty, I just don't enjoy exercise.  So why do I do it, and why do I hope everyone else does, too?

Since my teenage years, I've had one medical thing or another going on.  Migraines (including loss of vision and others that mimic stroke), syncope, ulcers, inflammatory arthritis, osteoarthritis, mitral valve prolapse, degenerative disc disease, spontaneous dissection of my carotid and vertebral arteries (at the same time, in the same location, egads!), fibromyalgia, kidney stones and infections, breast lumps (with biopsies), pre-cancerous cells here and there, and I've been "watched" for more things than I can remember or name.  With all that came a lot of medication, testing, missed time from work, and medical bills.  At one point, I just got tired of living like that.  Each day had me feeling like a zombie, worried about bills, and unhappy in general.  I was fairly certain that exercise was out of the question... it honestly never occurred to me to give that a shot as it hurt to move from point A to point B as it was.

Enter a lovely rheumatologist in the early 2000's who, upon our initial consult, highly suggested working with a nutritionist to try and heal my body from within.  I remember thinking and saying "if it's not covered by insurance, I can't afford it".  Which was the case.  I wish, though, I pushed harder to do something about it for myself all those years ago.

Fast forward to my meeting Michael and trying to keep up with him and the three kiddos.  No small feat!  They are, all 4, vibrant and active people who love life and exploring.  I clearly remember going to Disneyworld and, on day 3, hoping I'd just die because the pain was at an 11.  My oldest stepson is very aware of how others are feeling and persuaded everyone to just take a rest day when he realized how much I was struggling.  Imagine that!  I was overcome with gratitude but also ashamed that my little family would spend a full day of a short vacation just hanging out because I couldn't cope.  Ugh.

A couple of years later, after booking a winter trip to Florida, a friend posted about a new program that combined exercise and nutrition to help you get ready for the beach.  How timely, I thought!  Forget the exercise part, but here was a fairly affordable way to learn how to eat with support and guidance!  So I signed up, and Mike joined me.

I'm not going to lie, there was a lot of "what the hell did I agree to" moments when my kit came and I started trying to figure out meal plans for both of us and how to fit time in for blasted exercise (my nemesis, but an integral part of this whole process).  But every morning I looked at a long row of medicine bottles and every evening I tried to figure out how to pay off medical bills, so I pushed ahead.  Knowing I spent money on this also pushed me to follow it to a T so I got my money's worth.  And it changed our lives.

Yes, I became one of those "before/after" picture girls and yes, I know how annoying that can be.  But damn, now I get why so many people post those things.  I really did feel amazing and I wanted the whole world to know it!  A month after I started eating properly and added in some highly modified exercise, I felt like an entirely different person.  I had energy.  I had stamina.  I slept well.  I cut back many meds.  Skip ahead to 6 months later, and I was off all meds.  I remain of all meds nearly 3 years later.  It still takes a small act of congress to get my head into the exercise game each day, but I know how I'll feel if I don't, and that's pretty great motivation. On the flip side, I've never worked out and regretted it, and I remind myself of that often.  I also find myself missing exercise when I'm on the DL and can't get to it.  Whoulda thunk it??

It's true what they say... move it or lose it.  I have NO intention of losing it.  I've come too far.  I want to have many more vacations with Mike and the kids, and I do not want to be the reason we hang in the hotel all day to rest.

Remember, do just a little more today than you did yesterday.  Even if it's a matter of a few steps more.  Park one spot farther away from the store.  Do one more squat.  Any improvement counts!  Cherish your body, and do all you can to keep it going.  It won't do it for you.

~K