Tag Archives: loss

A Simple & Good Man: 5th Would-Be Wedding Anniversary

March 18, 2017 Jessica 2 Comments

“A widow doesn’t move on; she moves forward”. I read that on a blog that I follow. I can’t agree with it more.

My brother and I had a long conversation on Monday. He talked about 2010 when he lived with me. It was a tough time in his life as he was having some mental health issues. This happened at the same time that Paul and I’s relationship began. He told me about a couple talks that Paul and him had had together. He told me of a conversation from 2014…the last year Paul was alive and the year that my brother began to finally be on the mend. Paul had told him that he has finally gotten to “know the brother that Jessica told me about” because all those years ago, I told Paul over and over “this isn’t my brother. This is an impostor” when my brother was going through the most challenging times of his life. He told me that Paul told him that he was his brother. Jon told me about how much Paul’s words meant to him because to him he was like our Papa (who passed in 2009)–“he was a simple and good man. A man a few words”. Our Papa was my brother’s role model and he loved him dearly as did I so this was a great compliment and it made me weep.

My brother went on to ask me if I had any animosity towards him for the terrible things that he had done in the past. I quickly replied ‘no’ and he insisted that I be honest. I went on to elaborate on how I feel about the whole situation. I love my brother. We have a very special relationship. And I hold nothing against him for what he did when he wasn’t in his right mind. And how Paul reacted to the situation with my brother made me fall even more in love with him. He was the calm and the rock in my life. Even though he didn’t understand, he was tolerant and didn’t judge. So I don’t feel that my brother took anything away from our relationship–on the contrary, what was going on at the time acted as a catalyst in our relationship. It sped it along even more so–in hindsight, this was a good thing given that we would only have a handful of years together.

A co-worker of mine that has become a friend over the last year or so had tears in her eyes when I told her about what my brother had said about Paul. She went on to tell me how incredibly strong I am; that I’ve been through so much and yet I’m an accomplished and a sweet person.

I’ve thought on this. In the moment, I was taken aback. I’ve heard these words before from various people; especially since Paul has passed. I never know what to say or how to feel. I don’t really think of myself as any sort of extraordinary or a particularly strong person. I don’t think of myself as courageous. What I do think of myself is that I’m a person of perseverance. I’d like to say (and probably have said) that I take my life a day at a time but anyone who knows me knows that that isn’t exactly true. I don’t really like to leave things to chance and spontaneity gives me anxiety. I’m very much a planner. I like to, or rather have a habit of, obsessing about what I want to do, what I need to do and how I will accomplish that goal to my most perfect outcome. Although over the years, I’ve definitely learned that life isn’t quite that simple. Since Paul has passed, I’ve tried my best to incorporate a part of his soul into myself and into my every day life. I jump hurdles as they come and I try to enjoy my life each day.

It doesn’t do much good to be defeated. Actually it does you no good at all to be a defeatist. I have met these types and I’m related to these types. And I refuse to be a victim. Even in the face of tragedy, I refuse to be defeated. There’s something that you can take away from each and every situation that you come into contact with–I truly believe that. A few examples:

My dad disowned me several times: You have to accept people for who and what they are. You can’t hang your hopes on what you think a person should or could be. You should always ‘consider the source’ when you are met with statements that are crushing.

I was sexually abused: I have been able to achieve forgiveness and to let bitterness go.

My high school bf broke my heart: The value of family was reinforced when my brother drove to see me every day after work for a long while. I learned that heated words and passion do not equate love like it does in the movies.

My relationship after that: It is sometimes better to be alone. In fact, it’s absolutely necessary to have solitude; to discover who you are separate from another human being. You should always follow your instincts. And if your family does not like your partner, you should heed that as a huge warning.

My brother had a emotional breakdown in my home; We almost lost him: Each person is definitely fighting a battle that you have no clue about. What it looks like to you and what it truly is are two very different things. Sometimes it takes a lot of time, patience, therapy and relapses before you can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I love my brother more than words could ever express and hold no ill feeling towards him.

I was paralyzed by this obscene amount of weight that I’d accumulated over a lifetime: The lessons learned here are never ending. You are worth so much more than you give yourself credit for. It isn’t selfish to put your needs before the needs/wants of others. You deserve to be healthy. Being fat is hard. I deserve to live a life that I’m proud of. Fucking dance even though you look ridiculous.

The man that changed it all for me died on the night of my gastric bypass surgery: Again, so many things. To experience true love, no matter the length of time, is priceless. Terrible things happen for absolutely no reason. You are capable of anything. The bitter makes the sweet sweeter. Love as though you’ve never experienced pain. Say what you mean; mean what you say. True colors are shown amidst the times of tragedy.

My BFF of over 20 years quit me: The loss of a true friendship is just as painful as the death of your husband. People experience grief in their own manner. You can’t make someone love you. I deserve to have a friendship that does not make me question my worth. Just because a friendship ends doesn’t mean that the friendship didn’t happen; it had a purpose.

Skin removal surgery: They say your body is your temple; well you feel free to jazz that temple up. I’ve worked very hard to lose over 180 lbs and I have no guilt over the vanity that is perceived in me having my skin taken off. I fucking love not feeling the need to HAVE TO HAVE a bra on at all times. Working towards having an equilibrium between the inside and outside.

Well I surely went off on a tangent there…ultimately to come to this: Life is what you make it. I’m always working towards making mine great.

Today was our Would-Be 5th anniversary. This one was a hard one; what the hell am I saying? They all are hard ones. Paul and I dreamed together out loud. It is something that I loved about our relationship. And our 5th wedding anniversary was going to be epic. We were going to go to Ireland–after all, we were married on St. Patrick’s Day.

Last night I couldn’t sleep. I was too much in my own mind. I ended up dragging my wedding gown out. At first I just opened the bag and looked upon it but then I wanted to wear it. I decided I was going to take a picture with Paul. I put the dress on…I didn’t even have to unzip what used to be a fitted bodice. Even though I had to hold it up, I still felt like a beautiful cake topper. I thought about how I happened upon my $1800 valued ‘Craigslist Killer Dress” that I paid $300 for (including the can-can, a bustier and a black dress).

We made a Wedding Ceremony Wine Box. Inside this box was our favorite bottle of wine (Tres Suenos Anniversary Red), 2 wine glasses and letters to one another. My sister decorated the inside of the box with childhood pictures of us, our Save-the Date card and a picture of my grandparents on their wedding day. My friend and our Officiant said beautiful words about the box on our wedding day. In the letters, we told one another why we were marrying them. If ever there came a time that it all became too much and we thought we may separate, we would open the box, drink the wine and read the letters. If that time didn’t come then on our 5th wedding anniversary, we would open the box and enjoy the wine and letters together. {We wrote letters to one another on our first anniversary and I wrote one on our second. But he never did.}

Today I went to the lake where we were married. I opened the box in the very spot where we closed it together 5 years before. The wind was blowing intensely just as it had on our wedding day. The water wasn’t as high as it was 5 years ago but I could still hear the sounds of the lake as I sat reading the letters and sipping the red wine. My letters were all several pages; his several sentences. I cried as I read the line “I love you more than you will ever know!!!!” and “I’ll continue to give you all that I have”. I held the letter to my chest, took a deep breath and felt the tears land on my fingers. In my letter, I talked about all the things that I adored about him and the things that were going on in our lives and about the things I was most proud of at the time. I stood in the same spot that I stood 5 years ago and I listened to Train’s “Marry Me” which was the song that I was supposed to walk down the aisle to but Paul forgot the stereo. Then I closed my eyes as I listened to Blake Shelton’s “God Gave Me You” which was the song that played during our first dance.

After that, I packed it all up and met up with one of my girlfriends for pedis and lunch. She was frustrated as she told me that her husband and her had just gotten into a full on argument. I thought to myself “I wish I could fight with Paul about money”. I listened to her intently as she told me about their spat. Paul and I had had these types of quarrels as well. And I acted much as she did in this situation so I absolutely knew where she was coming from. My unsolicited advice that I gave to her was that there was a compromise in there. There isn’t sense in being so strict with finances that it makes you unhappy even if the end result of financial independence is within arm’s reach because…tomorrow is not promised.

I’ve said many times that I don’t have too many regrets about my life with Paul but the one that I do have is in regards to my rigidness. I wish I had been softer with our finances and allowed for more spontaneity in our everyday lives. I do that now as a result. Life is meant to be lived. Everything in life is about balance. When you find that balance you find harmony and with harmony, you find happiness. That’s what it is all about.

Tonight I had planned to have pizza and drinks with Lisa and our friends but I cancelled. As much as I wanted to be this rock of stability…the poster child of triumph over grief…I wasn’t. What have I done? I’ve put on Paul’s shirt, the necklace that has the 2 pendants that he gave me over the years and his wedding band, my wedding set and bands. I’ve sat on the couch and wandered in and out of thought. I’ve cried a lot. I’ve used my yoga breathing to try to find my center. But mostly, I’ve just thought on how much I miss that goofy guy. I thought about how much I wish he was here. I’ve thought about how much it hurts and how the pain has not seemed to change in these types of moments.

Please hug your loved ones extra tight tonight. Tell them you love them and mean it. Think beyond your own selfish wants and needs. Think more on the needs of your partner. Find balance in meeting their needs and satisfying your own. But, above all, make this day count.

Love,

Jess

Week 3: Roll Free…That’s Me!

December 6, 2016 Jessica Leave a comment

I can’t believe that it has been 3 weeks already! Time really has just flown by.

My activity tolerance is greatly increasing which is great. I can now start bending as tolerated. Whoa. That’s a stretch. I am still so tight and this makes it very difficult to bend. Having this restriction lifted has made putting on my body suit (body shaper) immensely easier; although, it still is not easy!! Now that I am able to get in and out of it on my own I have increased my wound care. I’m now doing wound care daily versus every other day. I think that this has been extremely helpful and my incisions are remarkably improved. Still the area of concern for me is my pelvis. It really is the most painful part (it is still swollen…gravity ya know). I’m drowning this incision with bacitracin and bandaging it (Um ..can we say OW…freaking mini wax everyday). After showering, I am laying out to try to give all of my wounds some air.

Also, my buttcrack incision is not entirely closed so I have begun to dress that as well. In the second week, it was causing a quite deal of pain but not anymore. Now it’s itchy! My butt cheeks have still not dropped. The right is better than the left though. So at this point, I still have what reminds me of that scene in Sex and the City when Samantha sleeps with that wicked old but insanely rich guy but just when she sees his naked ass walk to the bathroom, she bolts. My ass reminds me of his. But…it looks good in pants. So…fortunately for most…Lisa is the only one that has to bear to look at this…well and you that are reading this. HAHA.

I am standing more upright now. I’m working on my posture but it is difficult. The swelling in my hips is pretty close to gone. I’m very satisfied with how smooth my outer thighs are. My tummy is roll free and now I just have this little pooch. I remember all my life enviously seeing girls with pooches like this. It seems rather unreal that this is me. I have found myself worrying if I’m sweating under my roll…then I have to catch myself and say…we don’t have that roll anymore. But still I check when I go to the bathroom…because I’m so NOT neurotic. And there ya go…dry.

Also, today I was cleaning out my drawers. Well attempting to. And so many garments to subdue the rolls. And I’m not exactly sure what size panties I am…so I actually didn’t throw any of them out. My drawer houses panties from S-XL. Hey..if they don’t fall..they fit right? Not really…because some of the bikinis and boyshorts sit at my new waist. Weird. Like isn’t there where briefs sit?

I took notice when I was walking that I didn’t feel my belly or panties touching the top of my thighs. That’s like way embarrassing to admit but it’s true. These are things fat girls deal with every freaking day…damp rolls, panties to hold the rolls and roll flops. But I’m roll free now. Whatever will I do with myself…when I do a jumping jack. Eek. I’m pretty excited. Now I’m can die from the pain of my gasping breath rather than from the embarrassment of a pannus flop out of my yoga pants!

As you can see, almost all of my incisions are approximated. The lines are smooth and thin (with exception of my pelvis).

20161130_194023_HDR — Week 3 Post op Lower Body Lift. Healing nicely. Bikini panties hide all of the incisions!!!

And anyone who has spoken to me in the last couple weeks knows my obsession. BELLY BUTTON! Guys…I just can’t tell you how awesome it is to see it. I can’t wait to get cleared for exercise because I am determined to get this belly transformed into abs!!

I’m entering into week four which means that I go back to work next week!! Oh…and I ventured out to buy a new set of scrubs. And even though the top has a stretchy side panel…I got XXS top and S bottoms!!! Eep! I’ll post pics in my week 4 post!

Let’s talk emotions. I’ve have been doing so much better this go around but I’m not without obstacles. This is a very hard time of year for me (for all of us). I miss Paul immensely. As I’ve mentioned so many times, I feel that the more I change…the more I leave me behind. I struggle with this constantly. I look at my body and I’m so proud of how it has transformed, how healthy I am. When I sit and think about the road I was on previously and the change in navigation, I’m truly astonished. I think about all of the things I have done and all the things that I hope to do and it is amazing. I reflect on statements that I’m making…how I’m excited to work out so that I can have abs! That’s crazy. This Jessica doesn’t do that…OH but she does! And I’m so happy about all of this. But then there’s that other side and, man, do I struggle with this bitch. The more I change…the more I don’t feel the same. Although I love what I see in the mirror, I don’t really recognize her. I was looking at pictures from Thanksgiving and I thought…who is that girl. The similarity between my mom, myself and Jamie was always so undeniable but now…I don’t know. And I see pictures of my beautiful niece, Autumn, and my niece I haven’t meet yet…and their resemblance to Jamie is awesome. And sometimes this makes me question my identity. Who am I? Paul isn’t here. Just me and that mirror. Lisa has told me multiple times that I am the same girl…and mentions my eyes and my smile. So I got pictures from my sisters and niece to put side by side. All beautiful fair complected brown eyed brunettes. Three ladies that I think of to try to reign in my tether…

It’s just a constant struggle.

Hoping that one day…these two images will merge into one for me. I just hope to one day be whole. Love you all. Thank you for your support!

IMG_20161204_204038 — Pictured L-R: Jennifer (my older sister); Jamie (my younger sister) Autumn (my niece) and myself.

Let the Sad Pass Through You–Even Slowly

October 25, 2016 Jessica Leave a comment

Thirty two years ago at 0914 my mother in law brought my husband into this world.

As a child, my father did not believe in celebrating birthdays. As an adult, I fucking LOVE birthdays. Paul and I always celebrated. And what better way to celebrate than to drink yourself back to toddler-hood. You know what I mean?

“Tell me more about him…tell me about your first celebrated birthdays”

This was the question my sweet, well-intentioned girlfriend asked me. It is one of the reasons that she stole my heart. She does not just tolerate Paul’s memory and love, she actively shares in it.

Last night was a bad night. On the eve of his birthday, I was wrapped in emotions. I was lonely. I was mad. I was devastated. And when I read that text, I thought “Oh man. That’s a great question.” And I couldn’t think of anything in particular. Only snipets. The birthdays ran across my mind, not in sequence but a jumble of snapshots of birthdays memories over the years. And the harder I tried to pin it down, the harder I tried to sort it out–the more difficult a time I had remembering. The tears welled up and I started to cry. I brought up my Facebook and realized how much I post. I scolded myself. “Why the hell do you post so much? It is going to take forever.” I was trying to scroll through the years to find each birthday. And I cried. I reached out to my friends. Trying to find some type of outlet because the hurt would not subside.

2013paulbday — His 29th birthday! 2013 We were all the best of friends then.

And just when I thought I’d reached the peak…I saw the last picture of my used-to-be best friend, on the last birthday that she celebrated with him. It was 2013. I was out of nursing school. She was the thinnest I’d ever seen her and I had packed on some serious poundage over the last couple years. Paul was so excited to have us together. He looked sharp in his new purple button up.

We always pre-gamed to save money at the bar. I don’t remember who bought the Tennessee Honey Whiskey but we took it as a personal challenge to drink the whole bottle. She got sick at the bar, I held her hair back, she threw up on my dress and hers.

My heart literally ached as I thought about this night. As I thought about the following year which was his last birthday…his 30th. She didn’t make it to that birthday. She had come to every prior birthday. Even the first one in 2010, when we had a surprise party at Don Quixote where I’d gathered enough ‘donations’ to give him cash to put a CD player in his truck.

I couldn’t help myself as I typed in her number. I don’t have her number saved as if it will be less tempting to message her but I try. I sent her the photo with my word vomit. She did actually respond. And I cried some more. She told me “I’ve always cared about you and always will”. It was like relief and a knife to the heart all at once. I can’t really explain it. She (or rather the memory of what our friendship and life used to be) is a comfort to me. She is a connection to Paul. And sometimes, I like long for that hard core–as some sort of comfort.

I frantically kept trying to piece together the birthdays since I couldn’t remember. I finally did it. The frenzy in my soul calmed and my tears ceased. My eyes hurt. They are swollen. My head aches.

Love. Death. Grief. It is a kick to the gut, man. And you just never know when it will hit you hardest. My buddy gave me the best advice, like usual, last night. She told me to not “fight the sad and to let it pass through” me. I took a deep breath in and out. Actually, I’m doing that right now. It will pass.

Today is my beloved husband’s would have been 32nd birthday. I’ve been up most of the night. I’m off work and plan to keep busy. I have lots to do today.

Remembering Paul is my biggest comfort in the world. And it has just become my necessity. I live and celebrate my life in his honor. I feel compelled to do so. To do any less would be a disservice.

skydive2015 — On his first birthday without him (10/25/2015), I went skydiving. He never actually wanted to go skydiving with me stating “why in the world would I jump out of a perfectly good airplane”…I thought about this as we climbed to 10,000ft and the airplane rocked back and forth and sounded like it would fall apart. I thought I’d say to him…but I think we are better off jumping from this plane.

Last year and this year I threw birthday parties for him. My mom asked me last week why I am still having a birthday party when he isn’t here. That really threw me off but my answer “because I feel that I need to”. And that’s the truth. Maybe I won’t always do this but for right now I want to. I like celebrating him even in his absence. I love getting together with our friends. It makes my heart happy to spend some time with those who were touched by him.

shotsforpaul — Even if I can’t remember every particular, one thing was and is always the same for birthday celebrations: epic loudness and shots! This is Jared. He was a dear friend to my Paul. He is good people. :)

paul32 — Those friends that will always have your back and always be by your side. Rob has said it many time since the day I married Paul “your stuck with us now”. I’m certainly thankful to be stuck with them. Celebrating Paul’s birthday at Don Quixote’s 2016.

Yesterday I had a phone interview with a journalist in the UK for a couple upcoming interviews for two magazine offers I have received. They want to publish a story about my weight loss journey and Paul. The journalist has a British accent which made me giggle and was a bit distracting at first. But once I settled into the conversation, it was great. She asked some of the same questions that the previous journalist did but then she asked some different ones. She asked about how we met and about his health history. They have kinda titled what I call my accomplishments as my bucket list. I find it a little funny. I guess it is a sort of bucket list but I make this list yearly.

I got to reflect on some very good memories that Paul and I shared. And I reflected again on how much my life has changed. How much I have changed. How much I have experienced because of him. I’m fortunate in that way. To have had a love that inspires me. That motivates me. That has had the ability to help me push on when I all I wanted to do was fall.

I hope you all take away a positive from this. My message is usually the same. But I still want to repeat it. Live out loud, guys. Seize your day. Don’t put off for tomorrow.

To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all. -Oscar Wilde

skydiving2015 — It’s okay to feel fearful of the jump. But do it anyways. I promise…it is worth it.

A Precious Life: Live it. Love it.

June 30, 2016 Jessica 1 Comment

june2016(4) — Father’s Day 2016: Dad says to me ‘did they make a mistake and cut your boobs off?’ oh my.

How precious is this life? And how short is it? I’d venture to say that most of us would admit that life is undeniably precious and that the years pass by quickly. Yet how are we living it? Are we living it for the moment? Or are we wishing it away?

I’d say that for most all of my life, I have wished my life away. Not on purpose of course but, rather, by accident. I’ve hated my body, worried about finances, striven for stability and put off my life for the unforeseeable future that would, without a doubt, reflect my work—the perfect me in the perfect life. I’d be thin. I’d have no debt. I’d be in the perfect career. That’s when I’d live. Right? Wrong. Your life is what happens while you’re putting off for tomorrow. Paul changed my life in so many ways. And although I have few regrets, the one I do have is that I could have worried less and lived more. And in his death, I’ve found life and I have realized that this is my life and this is as good as it may ever be and damn it that’s pretty good. I’ve been listening to a lot of pod casts and reading up on self-love. I have done a lot of self-reflection. And what I’ve realized is that I haven’t always been good to myself. I haven’t loved myself. Over the course of the last 18 months, I’ve had quite a few life altering events take place that have led me to this new outlook on myself and my life. I can’t really pinpoint when or what actually did it; I think it’s just the collection of events.

june2016(3) — Moving my body! Mollie loves walks and I got this new leash that is hands free. It makes our walks much more enjoyable!

I want to worry less…less about what I think others think of me, less about what might happen, less about all those things and people I can’t control. I want to love myself and treat myself the right way…the way I’d treat others. What does this look like for me? As with anything in this life, you get what you give. Put good in; get good out. So I try to nourish my body with food that makes me feel good but not in the way it used to–not to feed my emotions but to literally nourish my body. I move—I have a non-negotiable with myself and that is that I move every day. I’m not an avid runner; I’m an avid couch potato. Ha ha. But I have realized that my body needs to move and when I move it, it responds by feeling good, losing/maintaining weight and increases my quality of life. I’m working on nourishing my mind and my soul. I’m doing this by ridding my life of negative people, negative attitudes and habits that perpetuate anxiety. I try to live out loud. I laugh frequently, help others on their journeys and try new things. I want to make sure that when my time comes that my life was lived and not just ‘survived’.

june2016(2) — It’s important to surround yourself with people that build you up and embody the life and spirit you want for your own. Lisa is one of those people to me. She makes this life fun, pushes me to be better and celebrates with me constantly.

june2016 — Loving myself. My legs have been a struggle for me but I’m embracing them by flaunting them and showing gratitude to them. For without these strong legs, I wouldn’t be able to be the active person that I’ve become.

Recently I ran into a former co-worker. A lady that amazes me. She has this amazing soul and an infectious smile. She’s a survivor. When she saw me, I recognized the stunned look. It’s the one I get from those who haven’t seen me in a while. I used to almost feel embarrassed not from shame but rather from the attention that my weight loss would draw. I don’t really feel that way anymore. I smile and I let them ‘ooo and ahh’. I frequently joke ‘I’ve lost a couple pounds huh?’. I take these interactions as a pat on the back and affirmation that I’ve made a positive improvement in my life. She shared with me something that truly made my heart smile. She told me that Paul’s death changed her life. That seeing the pictures that I post made her think about the lack of pictures that she has of herself. She went on to tell me about how she often takes pictures of her children but hides from the camera as she is not satisfied with her physical appearance. And she teared up as she told me that she thought about if she were to leave this Earth that her kids wouldn’t have photos of her. And so now she takes pictures frequently; when she sees me post one of Paul’s pictures that I share that she flips her phone and takes a picture with her kiddos. I was so very glad that she shared this with me. I’m even more thrilled that she seized the day and accepted where she is right now because this life is precious. It’s meant to be celebrated.

As some of you may remember in April, Waybetter.com published an article about me. Well, they reached out to me a few days ago stating “we are working on our weekly email and this week is our inspiration week. We wanted to use your story because it was so inspiring and touching. I was going through your blog and came across your amazing wedding photo’. Wow! I was shocked and in awe. Then the email went out and my friend tagged me on Facebook. The headline reads ‘A story to renew your faith in human resilience’ and below my wedding photo ‘love, loss and strength fuel this powerful story of one woman’s 150-lb weight loss’. It’s amazing to be recognized for my weight loss and I love that my story has gotten to reach who knows how many people.

How amazing is that? When I started this blog, I thought to myself if Paul’s death could just change one life…

And he has impacted so very many. It makes my heart and soul happy.

You can read the article at…

http://www.waybetter.com/WayBetterToday/waybettertoday/inspiration/how-i-overcame-worst-tragedy-imaginable-and-lost-150-pounds

weddinglaugh — The wedding photo that the writer from WayBetter.com stumbled upon. Truly one of my favorite pictures from that amazing day. The really sums up our relationship…he always kept me laughing :)

That’s all for now. Show yourself some love. Give your body gratitude. Hug your loved ones. And live this day to the fullest. You deserve it and so do your loved ones.

Netflix & Chill: I Struggle with Diet & Exercise Too

April 22, 2016 Jessica Leave a comment

I have had a lot on my mind lately. March was a difficult month for me emotionally. There was mine and Lisa’s anniversary, the anniversary of losing my Papa, mine and Paul’s 4th wedding anniversary and my 30th birthday. Phew! All that aside, I thought I’d talk a little about my struggles with diet and exercise.

It’s totally new to me to the healthy inspiration to others. Seriously, never in my life would I have thought that I could be a role model for this. In becoming a role model, I now have people that ‘hide’ their less than desirable food choices from me or they’ll say “ooo don’t watch, Jessica. I’m being bad”. I find it funny most times because I’m far from perfect. We all make bad food choices from time to time.

I’ve said this so many times that it’s ironic how we feel good when we eat well and we exercise but yet we continue to eat bad and sit on the couch. I’m 100% guilty of this. I admit it. “My name is Jessica and I love chocolate and binging on Netflix”. If I have the opportunity to be lazy and spend a whole day on the couch watching my favorite show, I’ll almost always take it!!! Having said this, I also realize that these are also the times that play in to my bad eating and contribute to my blues. It’s amazing how the negative perpetuates the negative, right? Seems simple enough. Like commonsense…duh?! But is it really? Think…when your sad, what do you want to do? Do you want to go run a mile? Nope. Do you want to eat a bag of Dove chocolates and hide under the covers? Absolutely. But now you’re in the covers, haven’t showered in who knows how many days and you feel awful; physically and emotionally. I have done this. More times than I care to admit to. Also, I feel that the lazy perpetuates the lazy and vice versa. If I don’t exercise, I won’t exercise. If I’m hitting it hard, I keep doing it.

So what is the take away? How do I deal with these things? Above all, remember that you haven’t failed as long as you don’t quit. I know that sounds like so cliche but it’s absolute fact. You only fail when you quit. Next, recognize the bad choices you’ve made; own them; accept them; move on. The next meal is your next opportunity to be successful. Don’t fall into the trap of “I ate like a pig all day; I might as well call it a wrap and eat that pizza and top it off with a bowl of ice cream; I’ll get back on track tomorrow”. Don’t do it. Don’t wait til Monday. Accept it right now and make the choice to make a better choice at the next opportunity.

I’m trying to get back on track from vacation last month. I had resolved to get wicked fit and stay the course. Well…life has happened and I’ve gotten in that “Netflix and chill” mode. But yesterday, I was like “hey I don’t like how I’m feeling” so I got my butt up and Mollie and I went for a jog. We jogged a full mile non stop; not slowing then walked it back. That was amazing to me. I’ve been so lazy but I was able to still do it. Well that was a huge win for me. It motivated me. Like man if I can do that after being lazy, think what I could do if I was on track more often. Then today I got up early, got my walk in, made healthy food choices and got all my water in. Then at Walmart, I was way tempted to get chocolate but I compromised with myself and got bananas and these frozen dark chocolate covered strawberries (only 60 calories/serving).

Anywho…hope this post wasn’t too boring. Just wanted to share a little about diet and exercise struggles. We all have them. I think it’s just most important to keep going; keep at it. That’s what I plan to do. In past years, I would have used these last few weeks of inactivity as an excuse to fall of the wagon but now I’m motivated to keep going. I also think about how far I’ve come and what my life and health mean to me know. I recently did an interview with Dietbet.com and they asked me about my motivation. I think my motivation stays the same: I do it for Paul. Yes, I do it for myself too but he is such a big part of it all. He made me WANT a better life. He made me WANT to do more. And his life ended on the day that my new life began so I feel that’s even more reason that I have to keep doing my best and living the best I can because I know he’d want that. And I want to honor him. So I plan to keep going and refuse to revert back to the old me.

And remember: a moment on the lips; forever on the hips! Bam!

Learning to Dance with a Limp

February 20, 2016 Jessica 4 Comments

What is significant about today? Nothing really. I woke up. Finished a research paper. Did some dishes. Binged on some Netflix.

I woke up in a not so great mood. Not a bad mood. Just an off mood. I felt good about finishing my paper (a whole day ahead of deadline-woot to me). I got a new dishwasher and it is fantastic. Netflix is always good because it comes with Mollie cuddles.

I woke up on this day about 3 times; each time sad. I thought about nursing school. I thought about seeing that dishwasher during the walk through on our house. I thought about other shows I’ve binged on.

Today, I woke up with a heaviness on my chest. I miss the time of nursing school (not ACTUAL nursing school, just to be clear). The old dishwasher used to be new. I thought of Scandal.

On this day, like too many before and so many more to come, I miss Paul. It’s days like these that I literally have to tell myself to breathe. And I literally think through the process of breathing: the air breathed in and my lungs full and the action of exhale. I miss nursing school because that’s the time where Paul and I spent two years of our life. We got married during nursing school. Seems that the peak of many of mine/our friendships were during that time. We had a Friday date every week while this house was being built to visit it and check the progress. It held such promise. Promise of a great future. And so soon, that fucking dishwasher crapped out; much like Paul’s heart crapped out far too soon! And sometimes when I sit on this couch that I love but Paul never knew, I can’t help but miss making him watch Scandal with me. And how on every episode, he would say ‘if Liv cries…one more time…I’m done’. And every night, we’d watch the next and you know, she cries like every episode.

I miss him beyond belief. It’s amazing to me how I live each day and most days I’m happy but I’m always sad to some extent. And, man, days like today, when the house is quiet and I have nothing but the thoughts in my head, the memories to recall, his picture staring at me from the mantle–I have to remind myself to breathe. There was a time that at moments like these that I fought my tears and choked down how I feel. But now, I allow myself to cry and I let myself feel my heart ache. I let myself grieve. But only when I’m alone. I feel like it’s really the only appropriate time.

And somehow in the midst of my blubbering, I stumbled across this quote:

“You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”

― Anne Lamott

And I’ve read it about 10 times. I love it. It’s so very true. So many times people say to me “I don’t know how you survived. I couldn’t have. I would have died or I would have to be committed”. I always think to myself “What a waste if everything we shared were to have died…with him; with me”. So I trudge on. I take him with me. I speak of him often. I think of him daily; sometimes hourly; sometimes the moments consume me completely.

I love you, Paul.

Boobies on the Mend: 3 Week Post Op & Reflection

Image February 14, 2016 Jessica Leave a comment

Oh man. Where to start? It’s a long week or so.

Let’s start with my physical stuff. So, my right boob has been concerning. On February 2, my supervisor went to take her jacket off, turned and accidentally ‘punched’ me in my right boob. If you recall, my right boob required more reconstruction than my left and has been more painful and not exactly aesthetically pleasing. When this happened, it knocked the wind out of me. I didn’t really put 2 and 2 together at my 2 week post op appointment when the medical assistant questioned the new bruising on the 4th. At work the following day is when I realized the two were linked so I called my doc. The bruising progressively worsened and they wanted to see me the following week. I had my 3rd week follow up this past Wednesday day. He squeezed and manipulated my breasts. It was awkward since I don’t have feeling superficially to below my nipple. He told me I had 2 hematomas and that he could feel that an internal suture(s) ripped causing the bleeding. He needed to evacuate it! He stuck a 2 in. 18 gauge needle through my incision around my nipple and moved the needle around, pulled back on a 20 ml syringe trying to find the pocket. He got out 5 mls of dark red blood. Nothing else. He felt again and said he need to try again but would have to go through the breast. Eek. He attempted 3 additional sticks. Ouch. Although I have no feeling on the surface, I do have deep sensation. I started to sweat and turned ghost pale. He wasn’t able to get anything else out, sadly. He told me to just watch it and that it’d hopefully resolve. He was concerned regarding the possibility of infection. Since my appointment, my bruising has significantly reduced and the color is now green so I’m happy about that. His assistant called me yesterday to check on me and my doctor is still concerned so he has started me on a round of antibiotics. Better safe than sorry.

3WeeksPostOp (2) — Current boobies! Bruising is SOOO much better today! The itching has begun! 2/14

Otherwise, my incisions are healing well, I’m sleeping better (no more night sweats), I’m rarely requiring tylenol and the tape residue is ALMOST gone. My incisions are so fine and I’m excited to see the end result. The only source of pain is still under my arms. Constant bending of the incisions and chaffing is sometimes unbearable! My doctor told me it was my compression garment so I’ve tried just sleeves. Nope. I’ve tried gauze. Nope. I’ve tried bandaids which have helped the most buuuut then they chaff my actual armpit. Ugh. The struggle. Now, I’m using zinc oxide (baby butt paste which is helping). My 4 weeks is Tuesday and I no longer have to wear my compression sleeves unless I want to! That’s exciting and no compression garments does feel best on my underarms. Although, I still don’t have feeling to my incision sites to about a quarter inch on both side of it so it’s a weird sensation. And it makes me paranoid that it’ll rub on somethings so I’m now wearing long sleeves and I foresee me wearing compressions at work this week but we will see.

3WeeksPostOp (8) — 3 Week Arm Incisions are faint!!

3WeeksPostOp (7) — The arm crease is the most painful. Still numb on the underside of my arm.

3WeeksPostOp (4) — Exciting! I get to wear a bra!

I had my first therapy session post operatively. It was much needed and very over due. I feel like I word vomited all over her the moment my booty hit the couch. I’ve been struggling. My anxiety has been on high. Feeling a bit depressed. Feeling upset that I’m upset. And isn’t that some shit? Not only to have these feelings but to, also, have feelings about the feelings. It’s a bitch! I’ve been missing Paul more intensely. I feel guilty. I feel alone. It’s all a bit over whelming really. In my session, I said multiple times “I’ve wanted this as long as I can remember and these feelings are absurd. ABSURD!” Her first response to me “how about you give yourself permission to feel the way you feel?” I sat back. Sighed. And thought ‘well isn’t that a novel idea?’ Ha ha. It’s literally never occurred to me. And I let that thought soak in and I said ‘okay’. As she summed up what I said, the series of events is very overwhelming and the thought comes to me ‘well holy fuck dude. That’s kinda like a lot’. And Lisa has told me most of these things but I guess there’s just something about the third party, impartial somebody saying it that makes it stick. She reinforced that my mind, my heart, my body has been through a lot in this past year. She told me that I’m now having to grieve the loss of my ‘body’ while in the midst of grieving over my husband. It’s okay to be upset. It’s okay to say I’m not where I want to be. And in the moments of chaos, it’s hard to realize that it won’t always be this way. I won’t ALWAYS feel this way. I won’t ALWAYS feel out of control. Eventually, it will pass. She also brought up the point that I’m not as active as I’m used to being which effects my mind and body. I’m a very independent person that is temporarily at a point where I’m having to ask for help and not in a big way…in the small ways and that has an impact. Man oh man. I needed that reality check.

My mom gave me this little sign over a year ago that says: “You can do ANYTHING. You just can’t do EVERYTHING”. I think I have to realize and accept my limitations. I have to learn to be okay with them as they are a part of me and make me human.

Where’s my satisfaction? Where’s my happiness?

February 6, 2016 Jessica 2 Comments

**Right boob update: so the mystery is solved. I had forgotten that 3 days ago, a co-worker accidentally punched me in the right boob. I was following behind her and she went to take off her jacket and **whack** right in the right boob where all the bruising is! It knocked the wind outta me. I’m thankful that we figured this out. And don’t be hard on my co worker–it was totally an accident, she’s amazing! She even drew on my boob to outline the bruise so I could track it’s progression/regression!

“Wow” “I don’t even recognize you” “You look amazing” “You have done so much”. These are all common compliments I get from a multitude of people. I wanted to take a moment and just thank everyone for all of the support. I truly appreciate it.

IMG_20160204_130442 — Size 7/9 jeans. Low Rise.

Today, I visited my old floor. I transferred about 4 months ago. It always feels like home when I visit even though there are so many new faces. When I visit, I always hope for some juicy trauma drama gossip but my weight loss and surgery usually are the topic. I’m sure that’ll change over time. I enjoy talking about my journey; it’s been a long one. I love talking with these wonderful women who have known me since 2013 and have seen me at my heaviest and they were there when I started my weight loss journey and when Paul died, they were there to pick to me up. They have shown me unconditional love and compassion and support and I’m eternally grateful to these wonderful ladies. So, it should not come at any surprise that they are all just so absolutely supportive and positive towards me and the progress that I’ve made with my health, weight and body transformation.

Today, I was met with all smiling faces and kind words. I have been just a bundle of emotions since the beginning of the year (well, really since November 12, 2014–if I’m totally honest) and it has peaked since having surgery. I’ve touched on it a bit in a previous blog but this plastic surgery has really messed with my head. I was fully prepared for pain and recovery; I wasn’t prepared for exhaustion and mental torture. Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but, at times, that’s exactly what it feels like. I was all ready to knock this plastic surgery out and get to where I want to be but I’ve had a reality check.

I’m struggling with my identity and who I see in the mirror. I will never forget: standing in the shower. Naked. Lisa standing by to help me get my bandages/dressings off. I felt the water run down my body. I look to my left and, in the mirror, there she is; that girl. Frankenstein girl. Incisions. Perky boobs. Thin arms. I can see a her rib cage. And the room spins. I’m dizzy. Disoriented. My hearing is muffled. I’m slightly nauseated. And, for a second, I thought I’d pass out. Lisa helped me to the bed. I can’t remember the steps between the shower and my bed. And I laid on my back, on my bed, eyes shut. And I hear her calm voice, “it’s okay. I’m here”.

I’ve worked so hard and made a lot of sacrifices to get where I am today. I feel like my whole life has built to this point. I loved Paul; I love Paul. I will say it over and over because it is always true and pertinent. Although, as most know, it was never my ‘dream’ to get married or to have a family. Don’t get me wrong, I just want to be clear; I’ve said it many times: he was the dream I never knew I wanted; he was a love I never knew existed and, not for one second, have I ever regretted any moment we had together. That aside, you know what my dreams were? I wanted to be a successful career woman, self-sufficient and THIN. That’s what I wanted. Maybe it seems a bit shallow, but having been the fat girl for as long as I can recall…I wanted that. I wanted to look like the ‘regular girls’. I wanted to feel comfortable in my skin. I wanted to travel and not think about my hips squeezed into an airplane seat. And, now…I have that. Where’s my satisfaction? Where’s my happiness? That’s what was supposed to happen, right? I’ve shed the weight. I’ve met every one of my weight loss goals. I’ve got these perky boobs and slender arms. My god man; it’s, literally, all I’ve ever dreamed it could be.

My former co-worker and I were chatting. She said some things that really shook me. She described her impression of me, of first knowing me. (I’m paraphrasing) ‘To look at you, you were this shy, timid girl and now I see this confident girl that shines’. I was taken aback because I don’t know when that happened. I guess although I have these mounds and mounds of self-doubt that there is something under there. I just gotta dig it out. So, that gives me hope. Maybe I can’t see it quite yet but others do and that gives me hope.

It really is a constant battle; between what you think you want, what you actually want and what actually is. I’m so thankful for all these wonderful people in my life. Without you, I don’t know where I would be.

Who’s That Girl In the Mirror? Graphic Images

Image January 27, 2016 Jessica 2 Comments

Have you ever thought to yourself if I had this or if I accomplished this then I’d be happy? I mean…with whatever…be it weight, money, love. All my life I’ve imagined what my life would be like if I were thin. Surely it’d be better and it’d be different. So many times I’d look at myself in the mirror and say ‘man, if I could just lose {fill in the blank}, I’d be content’.

I’ve always been very unhappy with my boobs and my arms. So extremely self conscious. It impacted everything from what I wore to how I sat to how I had sex. I can remember very vividly when Paul had moved into my house and I was changing clothes and I turned away from him as I took off my bra. He kinda chuckled and said ‘why do you do that’? I instantly felt embarrassed. I told him that he wouldn’t understand and it turned into this huge conversation. In summary, I hated the way my boobs sagged and he loved me just the way I was. He told me so many times throughout our relationship how beautiful and sexy I was and how much he desired me. This is the first time I’ve really said this but I never really believed him.

It was and is so absolutely irrational. My body issues are deep seeded. It wasn’t until probably a year into our relationship that I actually took off my bra during sex. Because I hated how they looked. I hated the sounds that they made.

I’m a bundle of emotions today. I’ve said it a thousand times: grief is a bitch. She’s an evil bitch that I think waits until you’re least expecting it and the she pushes you down and laughs at you. At least that’s how I feel today; how I feel this week.

I can’t tell you how long I’ve imagined having my arms and boobs done. Probably the first time I ever really gave it thought was at 16! That’s a lot of years of fantasizing of what it’d be like to have slender arms and perky boobs. I’ve never had them. And I’ve always had a negative body image about it too. I’ve always thought about how amazing it’d be if they looked a certain way.

As I showered today, I could see myself in the mirror. My boobs are very perky; perfectly rounded. They look they way I’ve imagined they should all of my life. I squeezed the soapy rag against my outreached arms and watched as the suds streamed down my arm, down my body. I washed my stomach and the underneath of my breast. It was foreign to me that I did not have to lift my breast. I bent down to wash my feet and my breast did not hang or sway and neither did my arms. I got out of the shower and dried off. I tried to whip my towel around my back to catch it with my other arm like I always do but I wasn’t able to. My face felt warm and my head was pounding, my nose turned red and my eye began to water.

012616 (1) — Significant bruising to underside of right breast. Minimal pain now.

012616 (2) — I can almost extend my left arm completely now. I only have about half of this range of motion on my right arm. Both arms are tight. I continue to have to ice them.

I stood there and I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked at myself from head to toe. Not intending to critique myself in the least. Just kinda soaking it all in. And I began to cry. Who is this girl?

This face. It’s slender with a defined jaw line, no double chin. Topped with the darkest shade of brown hair, so short that it barely brushes my brow. And my boobs: my nipples are centered and in the correct anatomical position. My bellies are still there but as I put my hand on my hip, I can feel and I can see my bone. I take a deep breath in and I can see my chest rise, my stomach drawn in; I can see the outline of my rib cage. I turn to the side and I look at my arm. Slender. One smooth, semi-even line from my shoulder to wrist. I dry my back and I can see my shoulder blades. My lumbar spine is defined and there is no back roll or rather back ‘shelf’. I stand forward again. My thighs are still thick by not massive and when I look down, I can see my toes.

012616 (1)

I don’t recognize this girl. She’s everything I’ve bargained with myself to be. She’s everything I’ve been working to accomplish but I just don’t recognize her.

I finish drying and I have to put my compression vest on. And the tears come full force as I have my right arm in the sleeve and I can’t quite reach behind my back for the left sleeve. My arms are tight.

And I close my eyes and I see Paul. We are standing in our home on 46th street. He’s holding my shrug as I put my arm in. And he tells me that it’s awfully warm outside and that this jacket isn’t really necessary. And I tell him ‘you know I hate my arms’. He kisses my shoulder and tells me he loves me just as I am.

I struggle but I get the vest on. And I snap it. And I look at myself tears streaming. He loved me just as I was but I didn’t. Now I look the way I want but I don’t recognize myself. And I have this rush…this panic…this feeling I felt for days, weeks, months on end following his death after all my friends and family had to leave my side to get back to their lives…I’m alone.

There’s some days when my house is so quiet and I walk through it and I have flash backs of a moment where he stood in that spot. And I think of the moment we stood there together. And now my memory is not of the girl that I see in the mirror now. And in some morbid way, it’s devastating.

**big sigh**

Being a widow is tough. Being a bariatric surgery patient who lost her husband on the same day is even more tough. In time wounds heal, but big wounds always leave a scar. I’m still healing. I still have days like today where it hurts like it is January 2015. On nights like right now, when my heart is literally aching and it seems that I’ve surely cried every tear a person could possibly produce, I try to tell myself to be thankful. I’m so thankful that I experienced Paul. I’m so thankful that I experienced a love that touched me to my core. I’m thankful that I survived. I’m thankful that I’ve pressed onward. I’m thankful that I’ve experienced new love. I’m thankful that I get to keep his memories with me. I’m thankful for this blog to share them with you. And I know that sooner or later I’ll recognize the girl in the mirror and I’m gonna love her too.

Love in many forms…

January 25, 2016 Jessica 3 Comments

I have written and erased what I want to say here like at least 5 times. What I’m feeling right now, I’m having a difficult time putting into words.

I am absolutely and utterly overwhelmed by this exquisite person that has come into my life. I’m sitting here having a full on cry session and anxiety attack over a spat with a family member. I feel so upset that it’s like my nerves are on fire. And for the first time since I lost Paul; since my the best friend of over 20 years turned her back to me and left—my first instinct wasn’t them to call. I called Lisa. And that means something to me.

Love. What a beautiful word. What a simple word. Just four simple letters that seem and for me are the center of my world. Have you ever tried to define love? Have you ever tried to describe it? I know I certainly have; each and every time I do, I fall short. There have never been the right combination of words that really gives justice to that feeling–that thought–that action–that everything.

And right now in my life with her I’m experiencing another level of it. This week I feel like we reached like a level up status. I didn’t have to tell her to do anything for me. Not anything. She just knew. I’m sure some of it has to do with her natural nurturing aptitude, but it’s more. For over a year, my world has been flipped and spun round and round. But I’ve had several moments with her where there’s just calm. I think about her helping me shower for the first time post op. She was calm and gentle; although, I know she was petrified. ‘I’m right here. It’s going to be ok’ were the words I heard as the room was spinning and I was having a full on panic attack. She rubbed my head and took her time–and bit by bit, minute by minute she continued until all my dressings were off and I was able to shower and then look at my self in the mirror.

Over these days, she’s help lift me into bed. She’s brought me ice packs. She cooked, cleaned, kept me hydrated. She’s lit my candles because she knows they I love them. She’s kept my house in the order that I like. She has made me eat when I don’t want to. Slept on the couch, just to be close to me. Sat and talked to me. Sat in silence.

She’s eternally and nonobligatory supportive. She lifts me up. She tells me it’s ok to cry. She talks to me about Paul. We talk about our life together. She gives me a security that I never thought I’d have again. And security has always been my number one expression of love. She makes me happy even when I’m sad. I’m just so very thankful for her. I’m so thankful for the lack of drama in our relationship. I’m thankful that it’s easy but not the easy that means boring. It’s always interesting.

Transformation Through Loss