Lightbulb.

I had an epiphany last night. I'm not sure why it didn't happen sooner, but I'm certainly glad it happened at all, and it honestly couldn't have come at a better time. Finally, I feel like it's an honest breakthrough for me. I'm sorry, but this is going to be a serious post, people. I just have to get it off of my chest and don't really know who to tell about it. I'm usually not so serious, but I am VERY motivated and feel inclined to share. For those of you who know me personally, well, you're about to know me a whole lot more personally. I think that's necessary to hold myself accountable to accomplish what I want to. For those of you who don't know me, well, you're about to. :)

Last night, I was watching Losing It With Jillian Michaels. I am a faithful viewer of The Biggest Loser and always just wish that was me whose butt was getting whipped into shape. Every time I watch something motivating like that, I always think, "okay, tomorrow morning, I'm getting up early and I'm going walking and I'm joining a gym." I can't tell you how many times I've joined a gym and had the best of intentions - and just decided that it was too hard to keep up with life and going to the gym. I didn't realize until last night that it's just because I haven't felt like I am deserving of happiness or health, if that makes any sense at all. Okay, it really doesn't unless I elaborate.

Since the time that I was around 7, I've been the heaviest person that I know. As far back as I remember, food has always been there for me. It never discriminated. Life has been tough on me so far, but I always thought that I was getting what I deserved; that I just wasn't meant to have a life without tragedy. I grew to expect tragedy, and tragedy I got. My father was an alcoholic and got into recovery when I was about 12 years old. By the time I was 14, my parents announced that they were getting a divorce. Infidelity, lies, and heartbreak became familiar to me at a very young age. I ate. It helped. Slowly but surely I packed on those pounds. That was just the beginning.

For those of you who don't know, I discovered my father's body after he passed away when I was 16 years old. The picture to the left was actually taken about 6 hours before I found him. That's exactly what we were both wearing in his last moments here on Earth. I will spare you all the grueling details because it is NOT a short story and this is going to be a long post anyway. I never saw it coming. At the time, reality didn't really sink in that he was really gone, and gone forever. The thought of seeing him again in heaven some day hasn't ever really brought me much comfort. From the eyes of a 16 year old girl, dad was my first love. I always wanted his approval and after he got sober, we spent a lot of time together. Playing softball, going to Books-A-Million until they closed every night, oh I loved those times and miss them today. My brother and my mom were always close and my dad and I were always close. After he was gone, I didn't know what to do. I rebelled. I snuck out and became an unruly, truent teenager. I don't think my mom's intentions were malicious when she sent me to the crazy house twice for skipping school and smoking pot. I wasn't crazy, just lost.

A few months after my dad's death in January 2001, my mom had a man and a woman come into my house and wake me up at 4:30 am and throw me in a car and on a plane without even letting me say goodbye. She sent me to a wilderness program, then to another crazy house because the waiting list at my new boarding school was long and I had to wait for a month for a spot. I arrived at my boarding school in Hancock, NY on 9/1/01. The towers fell 10 days later. That was crazy. The Family Foundation School was anything but a traditional boarding school. I'm not going to go into all of those details either, but I'll just put it this way... their practices at the time included sanctions like standing in the corner where I had to literally stand with my nose facing a corner all day (with the exception of 10 minutes of every hour). I even had to stand during class. Blackout and family blackout was hell. I didn't speak to my mom for 14 months after my first family group. Blackout was a sanction that prohibited someone from talking to certain people and at one point, I could only talk to one person in the whole school. You get the picture, it was pretty traumatic. I lost 120 lbs at school, but that wasn't because I learned how to eat healthy, it was because my portions were controlled.

After I left there 2 years later, I came home and became pretty heavily involved in the club scene and drugs and alcohol that accompanied it. With my new body and new-found confidence, I felt the need to do some damage. I did. After a series of unfortunate events and a very RUDE (but MUCH needed) awakening, I met my husband and settled down. A few months after we met, I got pregnant. I miscarried 2 weeks after I learned of the pregnancy. I ate again. I ate a lot. I gained 70 lbs in a year.

Again, I thought I was getting what I deserved for all of the things that I had done in my short lifetime. The saying that "God is just" meant that God was going to get even if I sinned. That was what I seriously thought. God was punishing me so I punished myself too. I ate and ate and ate. I never ever outwardly showed how the events of my life had affected me on the inside. I was always smiling and laughing. People said they had no idea how I came through such traumatic events with a smile on my face.

In 2007 when I learned that I was pregnant again, I thought something was going to happen, but I wasn't sure as to what, and was hoping for the best but expecting the worst. My friends kept telling me, "millions of women have done it before you and millions of women will do it after you." My response to that was, "well, millions of women weren't born with my kinda luck." After developing super imposed preeclampsia at 27 weeks, my itty bitty teeny weenie preemie was born. She was 1 lb 5 oz. She is the light of my life. We had some serious scares with her health and if she would make it. It was one of the most anxious times of my life. I felt her pain day after day and just wished to take her place. The needles, the tests, the constant beeping, the lack of rest she was able to get because people were always poking and prodding at her. I'd take it all in a heartbeat if I thought she would never feel it again. 139 days after she was born, and after 3 surgeries, she finally came home. I don't want to and won't talk about what happened for the next 2 years after she came home... it's terribly painful and still really raw.

Now she's almost three. She looks just like me when I was a child. My outlook on my tragic life has completely changed because of this tiny miracle of a little girl. It's no longer because I "deserved" it. I went through all of this so that she doesn't have to. God never punished me for anything, those were just my life experiences and what I do with them is up to me. God has blessed my life with a giant ray of sunshine that I am and have been so truly grateful for. I never take one word, one step, one laugh, or one smile for granted. She is the happiest little thing. She is SOOOOO sweet, so innocent. It's up to me to teach her the things about life that I have learned. I love spending time with her and having our little conversations. I love putting bows in her hair and dressing her up just for nothing. I love to watch her relentlessly chase our kitten around the house yelling, "Kitty Kitty!" until she catches her for a hug. I love laying in the bed with her and squeezing her teeny little neck, and no matter what time it is - she's always willing to wake up and give mommy a big, sloppy wet one!! And those hugs and kisses - absolutely indescribable.

Please don't mistake my explanation of my calamitous life for self-pity. I sit her right now after telling everyone this and I'm really smiling... mostly because I'm still thinking about those kisses. But when I think about where my life is right now I would be truly happy, well if one MAJOR thing changes. My weight. My health has suffered because of the hell that I've put my body through. I deserve to be healthy and happy. I will no longer be an example of how you DON'T wish for your life to be. I want my baby to be as proud of me as I am of her. I don't want to be humiliated when I go anywhere anymore. I'm ready to turn it over to Him and do the work necessary to get myself back. He knows what he's doing, after all. I just won't sabatoge myself anymore. My way doesn't work. It's time to LIVE. My baby deserves to have her mommy as long as possible and I want to spend every moment I can watching her grow up!! Wish me luck! :) I do, however need help. I'm not going to be able to conquer a feat like this on my own. I literally don't KNOW how to eat right. Life has been spent in drive thrus, buffets, and booths and it's going to be TERRIBLY hard. I'm gonna try to stick to the simple stuff. Move more, eat less. I've only been working out for a few days, but let me tell you - this morning when I went, when I got tired and wanted to slow down or stop, I pictured that little smile and I heard her little laugh and that made my pain completely worth it. And surprisingly, the more pain I felt, the better I felt. Not in a sadistic way or anything, but the fact that my calves felt like they were about to melt off when I was doing a step test this morning made me SO happy!! Okay, that's enough. That's my epiphany. I'm sure many of you are saying, "well, I coulda told you that," or "I've told her that a million times." I think I had to realize it on my own. This was the first time I'd really thought about it. I don't want to die. I don't want to set a bad example for my child. I don't want her to be like me (at this point in my life). Any health tips you guys have are MUCH appreciated!!