Tag Archives: transformationthroughloss

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

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“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.


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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.

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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).

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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.}

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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.

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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.

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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

Coping with Stress; Bikini Ready.

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How do you deal with stress? Are you a stress eater? Take it out on the gym? Lash out at loved ones? How do you cope?

My go to has always been food. I could always ‘solve’ any emotion with a full belly. I found in comfort in the satiation feeling after a sugary treat or every greasy thing off of the Taco Bell menu.

These days it is a little different. If you follow me on Facebook or IG, you have probably seen my healthiest and newest outlet: exercise. In my vision of the healthiest person inside and out is a person who doesn’t abuse themselves with substances (i.e. fast food, alcohol, smoking, etc.) and who channels their frustrations into healthier avenues.

Lately my world is just like yours. Not the picture that you see on social media. I try my very best not to air all of my laundry there. In recent weeks some stressors that I’ve been enduring are that I’ve started a new semester of classes to finish out my BSN, working out almost daily, struggles with processes/politics at works and the biggest one, my siblings and I have taken over the healthcare of my father. I won’t weigh this post down with the ins and outs of this process but it has become a day in and out stress. To say that I’m experiencing caregiver fatigue is a gross understatement.

The always there stress of grief is a constant in my life but with everything else that has been going on I’ve been pushing it to the back. I tell myself I’ll think of it later. I’ve purposely been pushing thoughts of Paul and our upcoming would-be 5th wedding anniversary to the back of my mind; refusing to deal with it for lack of time. How crazy is that? Like it is like in my mind that I can compartmentalize this kind thing, stick it on a to-do list and get to it when I have the time. It has worked oh…not too badly until yesterday. Yesterday it hit me. All at once. BOOM! On a day that was already rationed to be a 100% study day, I spent the better part of the day in full effect, ugly tears that demanded vocalization. You know what I’m talking about.  I cried so hard that I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t focus. And all I could think on was him and how cruel life is. I reached out to my friends for support. They were helpful. I ended my night with a pup taking up 3/4 of my bed and a tear stained pillow.

Anyways…I digress…

Exercise has been a good outlet for me these last 8 weeks. It has given me something to focus on that isn’t for anyone but myself. I’m a goal oriented person. I enjoy having a list and checking things off. And so January 4th after I was cleared for activity, I set to complete 6 Week Abs with Jillian Micheals and Couch-2-5K. I’ve been the most consistent and compliant that I have ever been since beginning this journey in May 2014. I’ve taken progress pictures everyday because I’m a firm believer in them; although, I’m sure that some people are really tired of seeing this bellah! I’m trying to transition from being scale focused to focusing on my overall health and the way that I feel. My body just doesn’t want to let go and get under 153 (which is my lightest so far) and she feels most comfortable at 155.  I have always had the goal of getting to 149 so that I wouldn’t be classified as over weight but let’s face it…I love tacos, alcohol and chocolate too much! What is life if I had to give it all up? A life of protein and veggies only is a bland life and I’m nothing of the sort. I calculated my body fat percentage which was somewhere around 27-28%. That’s average not overweight so bam! This is the healthiest that I have ever felt in my life.

I’m now trying my best to focus on some self love. To not be so rigid in my activities and goals but to just let it be. I started doing yoga on most mornings and I love it. It is so relaxing. And tomorrow I will be exchanging my Jillian 6 Week Abs for Jillian’s Bun Burner. I’ll be working on that a few times a week and continuing with my C25K–trying to improve my stamina/endurance.

So are we ready for some pictures? {FYI…there’s not a difference in weight in these pictures!!}

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I’m comfortably fitting in a range of sizes. lol. The vanity sizing in America is rather comical. I’m anywhere from a 6 to a 8 depending. These thick thighs are usually the determining factor though. But I’d be lying if I told you that it didn’t make me giddy to buy a pair of size 6 jeans that didn’t require aerobics to get into and that lack a muffin top :)

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Rue 21 junior size 7/8
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No muffin top; not ‘sucking it in’ (Feb 2017)
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Size 6 with some room (Feb 2017)

Abdominoplasty Post Op 4 Months

I’m healing very well from surgery. I couldn’t be more pleased with my results. I can’t even explain how wonderful it feels to not have that pannus anymore. I hate running but I love that when I run that there isn’t the sound or feel of my stomach slapping my thighs. I love that I am no longer self conscious about the way my body looks. I’m so proud of what I have accomplished and continue to accomplish. I’m looking forward to summer for the first time in my entire life because I can actually wear a suit without fear of my belly plopping out.

Below, the green shorts, are my “surgery goal shorts”. They are a size 4 and I couldn’t begin to button them prior to surgery. Now it is time for before and after over load!

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Above all, love yourself. You deserve to be happy. Without it, what is life? Live this day. Love this day. Thanks for all of your support.

Love,

Jess :)

Week 3: Roll Free…That’s Me!

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.

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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.

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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. Collage 2016-12-05 21_07_25

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!

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

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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!

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

Holy Butthole, Batman! {WARNING: GRAPHIC IMAGES}

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MY FLAPS!!!!! And that canister is the fat that was liposuction-ed. Bye Bye “tramp stamp”
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Pre Op (Gastric Bypass 2014) VS Post Op (Lower Body Lift 2016)

Yesterday was post op day 7 and my follow up appointment with my surgeon. I was really excited! It took me over 30 minutes to undress, give myself a whore bath and get dressed. It was quite the work out and very tiring BUT I did it. I was really excited especially since the last 24+ hours has been a struggle with these drains!**side note**

 

**I’m very familiar with JP drains but when it’s yourself, it is another ball game. I awoke and the sides of my pants were saturated. My first thought was that I was bleeding! Eek. I stripped down and my dressings were saturated with serosanguineous drainage. We had noticed previously that the right drained was not sutured in place and wiggled. I tried to tape it down but it was leaking around it. I couldn’t see any clots in the line. The output in the drain had gone from about 90 ml/6hr to less than 10 (probably since most was leaking? I called the office and was told to continue to strip the drains. So we did. My mom is amazing at stripping these drains. Best I’ve even seen. Long story short, if you have this surgery some tips for your drains. Right at the entry of the tube into your body–pinch that tube. Squeeze and let go–squeeze and let go. Multiple times. Even if you don’t see a clot. Then get a damp wash cloth, with your free hand pinch the tube at the end closest to your body, use the damp cloth to strip the tube. Keep doing this until the line is completely empty. My surgeon told me to do it once every 6 hours but sometimes you have to do it more frequently. So I’ve been doing it every time I go pee.**

Anywho…so I got myself all dressed and ready for the doctor appointment. My surgeon was extremely pleased with my progress. He removed my belly button sutures. You could tell that he was very VERY please with my belly button. I am too. More about this later. The right drain that has been troublesome, he removed. It was WEIRD!. He kept telling me not to look but I couldn’t help it! This tube was inside all the way across my lower abdomen and as he removed it, it felt like a snake was slithering around in there. CREEPY! Oh man but I was so very relieved to have it out!!! He said that I’m healing nicely. We will continue to monitor. I’m on a strict no bending or squatting restriction for at least 2 more weeks! He wants me to stand as straight up as tolerated. This is definitely a struggle as my posture is terrible anyways and my abs are so tight and sore.

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Post Op Day 7. Dressed myself and ready for my follow up appointment.

I’ve been amazed at the size of my hips/thighs. I was actually able to wear a pair of Paul’s XL basketball shorts. My curves/lines are sleek and loving em but I’m just like ‘holy hips batman’. The surgeon told me that, of course, I’m still very swollen and the tool that he inserted into the saddlebags to pull up that outer thigh really causes some trauma. So that will subside over the next weeks/months.

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My hips are so big that they hold up Paul’s XL basketball shorts!!

Here’s the REAL funny. I can’t recall if I’ve blogged about it or just told my friends/family, but my butt…it’s crazy. In the hospital, on my first walk, I told my mom that I felt like someone was pushing my butt cheeks up and apart. She looked and was like…that’s exactly what it looks like! Since losing all of this weight, I have lost my butt. I have had a flat, bony booty. Not fun. So this surgery was suppose to help that a little by adding some bulk with my lift. The swelling has separated my cheeks! And…you can LITERALLY see my butthole! OMG it is so weird. And it reminds me of my grandma. She had gastric bypass in the 80s and lost a lot of weight but never had plastics done. Her booty was much like mine. Omg it’s just so hilarious. Today, I tried to clinch my butt-cheeks…nope. Can’t do it yet

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Pre Op VS Post Op day 4

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Holy….BUTTHOLE Batman!



I’m really having a lot a of time to really think about how far I have come. It’s completely unreal. People ask me all of the time how I feel about it. I’m still working on the correct articulation of that right now. I’m in awe of myself. I’m in awe of my life; of what has happened to me and how I’ve come out.

Lisa said last night “You are truly an inspiration. Everyone I share your story with tears up just a bit. It’s so powerful.” To which I responded: Awww. It’s insane. Unreal. I can’t believe I’ve survived. I can’t believe I’ve achieved.

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A 2 year transformation: Pre Op 11/2014. 6 Months post Op. 1 Year Post Op. Post op 2 Years (pre op 11/2016). And now 11/2016 (Post op Day 7)

 

 

 

 

Post-Op Day 6: It’s All So Tight!!

Surgery day has come and gone. My mom, Lisa and one of my bestest gal pals were all there to send me to surgery. I didn’t sleep much the night before but I was still bright eyed and ready to go!

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The pre-op nurse stuck me twice before a second nurse got me on her first try. My vital signs were withing normal limits but I was sweaty as the nerves took over–especially under my belly and I thought about how this will no longer be an issue. The nurse read a clause of my living will and complemented me on it. My doctor came in and we discussed additional questions the he marked my body.

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Pre Op Lower Body Lift 11/10/16: surgeons marks. On my LLQ he wrote “BYE”

Hugs and kisses right before they took me back and 8 hours later, I woke up in my hospital room with my mom and Lisa by side. The evening went well with moderate pain. They discontinued my foley quickly and getting up the first time was a struggle but I did it with minimal assistance. I was able to walk around the floor. I wasn’t too hungry but did eat a smidgen before bedtime.

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Successfully got myself back into bed!

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The most difficult part came when Lisa had to go. I was so emotional. I just had this rush of feelings that came over me and I couldn’t control them.  I cried and I cried hard. It’s fuzzy but I just kept telling her that I don’t want her to go as Lisa and mom tried to comfort me.  And I ‘knew’ that everything was okay but I just had this collision of feelings processing the surgery day and the surgery day that happened 2 years prior…when I never saw Paul again. I was so afraid that I wouldn’t see Lisa again. Mom eventually just had to tell Lisa to go. And shortly after she left, I was able to calm down and Mom and I chatted all night long.

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First look at my incision

The next morning my surgeon was prompt to come by to check on me. He took down all of my dressings and told me how great everything looked. I looked down and was like “holy hell! I can see my vagina!” The oncoming nurse was there and congratulated me and was excited with me. It was such an emotional moment!

Over the weekend, Lisa took AMAZING care of me. She kept up with all of my meds, emptied my drains, moved the couch so she could sleep next to me, etc. I can’t say enough good things about her.

Everything is soooooo tight! The drains are uncomfortable. I am wearing an abdominal binder and everything itches! My surgeon forewarned me that I wouldn’t be able to walk completely upright for awhile and boy was he right!! I’m really glad that I rented a recliner and that I have lots of pillows because positioning is key!

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I’m lucky to have had my two nurse buddies come by to help Lisa and I with showers. Showering is quite the work out, even with two people helping you. Seeing myself in the mirror this time was not as traumatic as my previous surgery. I had definitely prepared myself for it. It was really odd seeing myself in the mirror. There I stood…no udder. Ive never been able to see my belly button and now…I have a belly button!! Overall, it was exciting and I didn’t cry.

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Sleeping is an issue right now and it isn’t just one thing. It is a combination: I’m in pain, uncomfortable and emotional. At this point, I’m able to do almost everything for myself except for showering and picking stuff up. So I’m hoping to not HAVE to have a overnight sitter by the end of the week. I’m working on building up my endurance, standing more upright and pain management.

Tomorrow is my 1 week post op appointment and I am really hoping to get at least one of my JP drains out.

UDDER Construction! Surgery Day: 360 Abdominoplasty

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My ‘udders’. This a great angle to represent how severely my stomach hangs! 11/2016

Today is the day. I can’t believe that it is actually here. I woke up with bubble gut and is the first time I have felt the anxiety of this surgery in full affect. Today I will have an 360 abdominoplasty or rather body contouring. You can google it if you want the details as to what all that entails. It’s a pretty invasive procedure to remove all of my extra skin from my trunk. It is expected to be a 6 hour surgery with a 1 night overnight stay. I will come home with at least 2 JP drains, be off work for 4 weeks and on restriction for about 8 weeks. I have lots of support set up and I’m so thankful to have such wonderful nursing friends. My mom and Lisa will both be with me today. Mom is staying the night. Lisa is on Mollie duty. I’m so lucky to have Lisa who has without question been my rock. She plans to stay with me for 4 days.

Alot of people have commented to me that I don’t have a belly or that I really don’t have skin to remove. I have addressed this in previous blogs. Ultimately, it is my choice. I have worked extremely hard to accomplish the weight loss and health status that I have today. For those that think that weight loss surgery for a morbidly obese person is the easy way out, you are ignorant. It is a hard thing to do. Anyone who is significantly overweight and who has tried to lose weight already knows the struggle.

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Comparisons of my belly November 2016. They look like UDDERS!
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My belly hangs down about 6 inches at this point. I can’t tell you how uncomfortable this made me to have my sister take this measurement.

This surgery is very emotional for me. As mentioned so many times, I don’t recall a time ever when I didn’t have a belly that hung. I was never that cute pudgy girl that had the pooch. I, instead, got my father’s stomach. A pendulous belly that folds at the top of my pubis and just hangs there. It moves. It’s uncomfortable. It is all too often wet with heat or exercise. And this surgery takes that away for me. On the flip, I am concerned as to what I will see when I look in the mirror. I want to feel like an improved version of myself and ultimately still myself. While I rationally know that I am who I am…the mind, man, it fucks with you.

Paul weighs heavily on my mind today and has for weeks. This is like the exclamation point on my body transformation. And he is missing it. Sure, he doesn’t have to deal with my whining, stubborn self…but he is missing out on the finale. He was such a huge supporter of mine. He truly wanted me to be happy. He saw the gorgeous even when all I could see was adipose tissue. I’m sad that he isn’t here. I’m sad that he hasn’t gotten to participate in the journey. And it makes me anxious that who I see is not who he saw. And that I changed it.

All that aside, I’m living a genuine life. I don’t hesitate to do what I want to do. I set goals and I achieve them. Everything that Paul and I dreamed of, I’m making it happen. I have taken the spirit and essence of who he was and what he stood for and I have made it a part of who I am and how I think. I am proud of that. That gives me comfort. I’ll love him always.


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I shared this picture of me sitting in front of the mirror. Belly tucked, belly out. I love this picture. I feel beautiful. I see in this picture all that I try to hide and that I have really tried to strip away.

This was a huge NSV for me. I can never imagine a time when I would have EVER shown my belly to other people; let alone, social media. I have come a long way. It is just really important to me to be transparent. I have collected quite a few followers (who I am eternally thankful for) and I want them to know my raw struggle. And to know that you aren’t alone.


These progress pictures are INSANE and seem UNREAL! I don’t know which is more unbelievable…that I was that size or that I am now this size. They are both unfathomable to me.  I have certainly come a hell of a way. I’m excited to take this next step.

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Original weigh in shirt!!! Then 295. Now 160.

 

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I want to thank EVERYONE for all of the support. I have truly been overwhelmed by the amount of love and support that has come from my friends, strangers and co workers. It truly is humbling. I can never put to words how this all makes me feel. I’m just so very thankful. And during a time in our world where so much is uncertain; where there is so much hate and hurt; it is refreshing, uplifting and reaffirms my faith in the common goodness of people. I love you all. Stay tuned…

 

 

 

 

 

Let the Sad Pass Through You–Even Slowly

His birthday in 2010

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.

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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.

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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.

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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. :)
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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.

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A list of my milestones to date

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

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

Does Your Belly Hang Low? Does it Wobble To and Fro?

I am coming up on my 2 year surgi-versary. I have managed to lose over 180lbs in over 2.5 years so I have a biiiiiit on extra skin hanging around (pun intended). I’ve pretty much been maintaining since early 2016. I’ve been battling with the ‘last 5-10lbs’ all year pretty much. Instead of being completely, ridiculously hard on myself, I have tried to accept that my body wants to be at this weight. It seems to be where I keep ending up. I can restrict and get down to where I want  to be but as soon as I let up a bit on the diet, right back up I go. When I step back from that scale and really look at myself, my life and how I feel about the two–I’m content. This is a good weight for me. I feel good. I feel healthy. I’m comfortable. I have been working on my mind to just get it right there. We all hate that BMI scale but it still exists and I’m still classified as overweight. But all my numbers are good. I can do all the things in life that I want to do. I’m not hindered in the slightest by my weight. So… I say…fuck that BMI scale. HMPH!

I’m at a good place weight wise. It is now time for my finale. I’m approaching my big surgery date for my 360 abdominoplasty. For those who are not familiar with this surgery, I’ll describe it briefly (sorry in advance if I make your skin crawl a bit). It’s a fancy tummy tuck but allll the way around. Basically they cut you at your pelvis (where a C-section scar would be) and take that incision all the way around (360). They detach that skin from your body, pull the skin down, cut off the extra, make me a new belly button (I know, crazy, right?), cinch up my abdominal muscles, then pull the bottom up (like a pair of pants) and stitch me back together. Voila! I’m getting rid of my pendulous stomach/skin. This is a major surgery. The pain will be intense. I’ll be off of work for weeks. But I’m absolutely thrilled to be doing this. It really is the finale to my weight loss. I’ll, of course, be posting lots of before and after pics.

I know what many of you are thinking. “Jessica, why can’t you just be happy with  your weight loss.” Some of you might even think that it is totally vain to have this surgery. Let’s go ahead and set that straight. I can’t remember a time where I didn’t have this belly. Since childhood, I have always had this stomach. It grew into a fold to where it sat on top of my mons pubis. And there it has sat for all of my adolescence and adulthood. As I have lost weight, it has shrank a little bit and it’s not near as dense. Now, it is literally a fold of skin. It has always and continues to make me self conscious. Like “is it gonna flap” “does it smell” “do I need to re-apply baby powder”? Let me ask you–do you have to worry about these things? Grooming was always difficult, as I had to always sit on the toilet to shave properly. In the shower, I have to be sure to lift my fold and scrub really good. This is a warm, dark area. An ideal place for bacteria and yeast to grow. So no, it isn’t just vanity. Does vanity play a part? Absolutely. I hate how my belly skin hangs when I do a plank. Or how my belly flops and claps when I do a jumping jack. I can’t wear loose pants when I work out because a belly slip would be waaaay more embarrassing than a nip slip. Just saying.

What am I most concerned about though? My emotional reaction. If you remember back to after my arm/breast surgery, I had an unanticipated reaction. Upon first glance at my “new body” I had a panic attack. It took a little bit for this reaction to subside. Although I was very prepared for this surgery and so excited for it, I didn’t foresee having a negative reaction to my body. There was a grieving process and then an acceptance of my new body that I had to deal with. This reaction was compounded by the fact that I was changing and I now had a body that Paul never saw. That was devastating to me. With a push from my Lisa and her daughter, I have called and made an appointment with a psychologist that specializes in bariatrics. I’m going to see him in a couple weeks and gear myself up for this surgery!

Enough of that…let’s talk progress:

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Activity. Lisa and I recently bought mountain bikes. We rode around a local lake that was 8.0 miles. Wow!!! It was a really wonderful experience. Such a nice ride after we figured out how to operate the gears. (We researched this a couple weeks prior to our ride. Gotta love that Google.) It was a big NSV for me. I had never ridden a bike so far. It was invigorating. I wasn’t winded or anything. Now…the next day my crotch and thighs were sore but this was to be expected. I really enjoy the bike. I even rode the other day by myself. I enjoyed the breeze in my face and the beautiful scenery near my home. This is a cardio workout I could really get into!!

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Emily is one of the bravest girls I’ve ever known. I’m happy to support her!!  

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Lisa, myself and her girl child participated in the Out of the Darkness Walk to raise awareness for those who struggle with suicidal ideations and depression.

Recognition. Dietbet reached out to me again about a PR opportunity. I am supposed to have an interview with someone from CatersNews tomorrow. That’s kinda awesome. Then, today, I received a package from Waybetter.com enclosed was a workout jacket, water bottle and a note book with a little note from the CEO.

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Package from Waybetter

Looking Forward. I have lots of stuff going on and coming up. I’ll be getting another round of sclerotherapy done to my legs for my varicose veins. I have about 4 weeks left of nursing school (for my BSN). Lisa and I are checking a few things off of my bucket list/goals: cooking class and to go sailing. Also, Lisa’s 40th birthday is in a little over 2 weeks so I’m gearing up for that.

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Like always…much love and thanks for the support. Love yourself…move your body!!

Give Up Perfection: Some Tips for Success

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I was cleaning out for a garage sale and came across my ‘fat pants’. I can literally fit in one leg of these pants!!! Size 26/28 vs size 8

Perfection. Is there such a thing? Can a person be perfect? The answer is no. So why do we constantly set goals for perfection? As women in American culture, this is ingrained from an early age. We tend to think in absolutes. Being good; being bad. On the wagon; off the wagon. Success; failure. I’m on my own journey to try to reprogram myself and I hope to inspire others to reprogram as well.

I’ve had a few very frank conversations with women who are struggling with their weight, body image issues and/or have had weight loss surgery. I’m always delighted when someone seeks me for advice and inspiration. It’s humbling and fulfilling. The thought process that is echoed in every conversation is perfection. “I was bad” “I need to get it together” “I’ll be happier if I could just get to such&such weight”. But ladies, this is what we have to work towards changing.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am 100% guilty of all of the above. I have made all of these statements. I can’t recall if I’ve shared this with y’all before but one of the most eye opening conversations that I had was recently with a friend. We were talking about weight loss goals. I had mentioned that a co-worker had an ‘ideal figure’ and eluded that I’d be ‘happy’ if I could look that way. We called her over and asked her to share her height and weight. I am literally the SAME height. I weigh within 2 lbs of her and I wear the same size jeans. What the hell? So I had created this image of what I was trying to attain and I couldn’t even really see my own success. That was an eye opener for me.

The above interaction made me really think. I’ve always joked that I’m a perfectionist. I am in some sorts and it fares me well in my work and such things. But it doesn’t fare me well for my health, body image and overall happiness.

A friend recently was venting to me about her dissatisfaction with her weight loss. She had told me her weight loss and it was truly amazing and something to be proud of in my eyes. I inquired as to why she was dissatisfied. Her response was that ‘others were losing more than her’ and that she ‘hadn’t been as good as she could be’. And here lies the pitfall.

I’ve been here; I’m still here as a working progress. We should not compare our success to others. There will always be someone who surpasses you; there will always be someone who trails you. You have to place SUCCESS where it needs to be. You have to define it by your own standards; not by the success/failure of others. If we constantly are reaching for perfection as we see it on someone else or a perfection/success we have created, we will ALWAYS fall short. Every. Time.

How many times have you ‘fallen off the wagon’? I know I have probably a thousand times. This wagon puts us in this constant cycle–up down up down. Yo-Yo. And each time you have a down, you beat yourself up. We all do this in different ways but I guarantee that if you struggle with your weight like I have that you are NOT kind to yourself. You tell yourself all kinds of negative things and this just adds to the cycle.

I can remember so many diets. It seems I’ve been on a diet for forever. My weight has literally been on my mind from wake to sleep since I was probably about 12 years old. I’d get these plans in my mind about how I was going to get back on track TOMORROW. I was going to eat right, exercise hard core, no junk food. Tomorrow would come, maybe I’d eat really good all day and then night fall would come and I would binge. Then I’d feel awful. I’d beat myself up and label myself as a failure. THEN I’d eat even worse because now I was off my diet. And so the crazy cycle continued. Continued right on up to 341 lbs.

How do we fix this? How do we fix ourselves? I say–be kind. Be kind to yourself. Ditch the diet. Forgive yourself. Find happiness outside of food. These are my tips for success.

Be Kind. Only say things to yourself that you would say to others. So many times I have looked at myself with disgust and mentally bashed myself. But I wouldn’t DARE say these things to another person. What I practice now is some self love. Even when I feel fat or bloated, I find something positive. That’s the day I’ll put a lil extra make up on. Something to help me feel ‘prettier’.

Ditch the diet.  Do I mean pig out? Heck no. It’s all about balance. How did you get those extra pounds? You were out of balance. You have heard this time and time again: moderation is the key–you must make a lifestyle change. And it is 100% true. We all want a magic pill that allows us to get the model figure over night and allows us to eat whatever the fuck we want. But that’s not reality. Whatever you decide to do to get healthy or lose weight has to be something that you can do forever. Think of it this way, if you starve yourself for the next couple weeks and drop a few pounds…the weeks following you’re going to eat and gain it back. It’s just the way it works. Calories in/calories out. I could write a whole blog over nutrition but how boring is that? My best advice for nutrition–keep it simple. Eat whole foods. Eat less junk. And if you have the junk, make it small and make it infrequent.

Forgive Yourself. You better believe this is important. Don’t beat yourself up. What good will that do? Not a damn bit. Okay…so you ate a whole box of cookies. It happens. Let it go. If you can, think on why you did it. What were you feeling? But more importantly, think about how eating that box of cookies made you feel and commit that to memory then move on. That next meal, you own it. Don’t harp on the ‘I was so bad’ thing. That isn’t going to get you anywhere. I love my sweets and if/when I overindulge I think about it afterwards now. Like ‘damn. I just ate that whole bag of Milanos over the course of one day. Now my belly hurts. Why did I do that? I was bored. Dang I really don’t like how my body feels right now and those cookies aren’t helping me reach my goals.’ Then you know what I do? I move on. If there are cookies left, I pitch them. Yep. Throw it out. That’s what I do. The next meal/snack I try to eat towards my goal (or rather towards my why).

Find Happiness Outside of Food. This is the big one. Live your life. Find what really gives you joy and do it. Don’t wait until you’re the perfect size. The perfect weight. That day won’t ever come. We are imperfect people and we are constantly changing. Shit happens. Don’t wait to live you life based on what you think the future you should look like or weigh. Most of us women eat emotionally, bored-happy-sad-lonely-mad-etc. We have to find things/activities to fill these voids. Find your void filler. Also, find and surround yourself with people that bring the best of you out. The people that don’t make you question yourself. The people who inspire you. Those people are a crucial key to lasting success. You are who you surround yourself with. I truly believe that.

Yes, I had bariatric surgery to get my excess weight off but I did the work. I’ve changed my life but more importantly, I’ve changed my outlook on life. I don’t wait for later. I try to live in the now. I want to be the best me possible but I accept that the best me will not be perfect. I’m currently still working on all of these things. It’s a daily practice. It doesn’t come naturally. It’s something I have to work at. But I can tell you this…this me is the most fulfilled I’ve ever been and it feels amazing!

Go do something outside your comfort zone today. Get active. Live your life! Love you all,

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Lisa makes me happy. She lifts me up. She helps inspire me to stay healthy.
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Vodka Trot 2016. Big first for me. I’ve never worn short shorts like this out in public because my legs are not ‘perfection’ but I did. And I had a blast and I wasn’t worried about what others thought of me!
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Lisa and her sister, Tasha, encouraged me to get up and dance with this small group of women at this big event. The old me would not have done this. It was so fun and freeing!
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Don’t be afraid to be silly. :)

 

How I Cope with Being Dumped

Betrayal. Hurt. Loss. Relationships. Sisters. These are all terms that come to mind when I think of two significant people in my life. I’ve been silent about it thinking that I didn’t want to put into forever ink what I couldn’t take back and what might hurt the possible future I might have with these two wonderful women. Although, now I think that this is a blog I need to write as it weighs heavily on my mind and my heart. I am certain that there are other widows out there who have experienced these same things, unfortunately.

I wrote recently about a renewed hope that I had in a lost friendship. I was vague about the details as I don’t know who, if anyone, in her circle reads my blogs. I didn’t want to add pressure to a very new beginning and weak foundation. I feel now though that I want to disclose what has transpired, how I’ve been impacted and how I’m coping. I think the loss of a friendship of our calibur is significant. I have had to grieve a long side grieving for my husband. It has been unimaginably difficult and there is not a clear cut way of how to handle it.

Those who are closest to me know that my best friend of more than 20 years broke up with me less than 2 months after my Paul took his last breath. To add insult to injury, she did not give me any reason other than she didn’t want to speak to me. To say I was devastated is a gross understatement. I do not have the vocabulary to accurately describe the amount of pain this brought me. I can not begin to tell you what it does to a person to lose two of the most solid pillars of their life in the matter of 2 months. The only way I can begin to explain is to first tell you how important she was to me and how close she was to my husband. Paullium is what she called him; Ab-zilla is what he called her. He considered her his sister and his mother was thankful that her only child got to experience the love of a sibling as he had found it in her. When her parents turned their back on her and she was leaving her toxic marriage, Paul did not question me for a second when I asked if she could move in with us. Her and her two young girls lived with us for months in our mediocre 1100 square foot home. There were many evenings that we shared as a ‘family’. Those girls were like our children. They loved their Paulie. And when they got their own apartment, we enjoyed times together there as well. We liked to Jingle Jammie shop at Old Navy and have pj evenings. The girls loved to have ice cream just like Paulie. The marshmallow gun fight we had just that one evening is a memory I won’t ever forget. That last year Paul was here, we had a lot going on in our lives as did she. She wasn’t around as much. She worked a lot. Paul constantly invited her over and asked me if I thought he did anything wrong. He missed our times together. So did I. He still loved her dearly.

The night he died. She was my first call. The night was a blur but I remember her arriving promptly at our newly built home (we’d only owned it for 4 months). I remember her face as she looked at me, as  she stayed strong for me and she comforted me. And when the funeral home people arrived, she took me in her car and drove around while they took his lifeless body. She slept with me that night and for I don’t know how many nights after that. She went to the funeral home the next day to make arrangements and sat in that room with me with my mom, his mom and his grandmother as we made arrangements that I wasn’t prepared to make. She was there as I made the decision to cremate him against his family’s wishes. And as I cried copious amounts of tears that night, she stroked my hair. She wrote his obituary. She stood by my side. She was everything I didn’t even know that I needed. Paul and I were supposed to go on this family trip around New Year’s that year. The tickets were already bought. And she took his place and we went to Florida to meet up with his family. I’ll never forget that trip. She was deathly afraid of rollercoasters but she got on them with me. We met up with a friend at Cocoa Beach, we all drank wine and spread some of his ashes. We were planning to get tattoos in his honor on her birthday (NYE) but in a terrible turn of events I wasn’t able to go–my car blew up, Mollie ate a bag of Dove chocolate which landed her in the puppy ICU. I spent that first NYE without my Paul, by myself, in our house and I cried all night. She got that tattoo. I was so upset with her. But I had already started to develop this new life’s motto to live as if it’s your last…and I texted her the next day to tell her I was upset about that night but I wanted to let it go.

My life, again, was never the same. I’ll never forget being at I-240 & S Sante Fe at a red stop light. It was January 3, 2015. I had called her twice. She never answered. I told her I wanted to see her, to bring the girls their Christmas gifts, to bring her birthday gifts and to show her my brand new car. She told me she was busy. I told her I’d come to wherever she was. She told me that she didn’t want to talk to me. I asked her for how long. She told me that she didn’t know. In true dramatic girl fashion, I asked ‘ever?’ and she responded ‘maybe’. That was the longest red light ever. And I could have sworn I felt my heart literally break all over again. I would go months before she gave me any inkling as to why she never spoke to me again.

After 20 years of friendship, we have seen our fair share of fights, ups/downs, good times, better times and everything that lies between so I just KNEW that this would blow over. No way my best friend was no longer my bff. I can’t even tell you how many hours I spent analyzing what went wrong, what I did and trying to figure how to fix it. I was going to counseling twice a week at this time and I’m thankful for that. Had I not already been in grief counseling, I swear that my mom would have had to commit me. My therapist assured me that it would pass and to focus on what I could control–and those were my actions and reactions. I tried really hard not to hound her. I tried not to be my typical self. I’m the person who will work at something, rearrange it over and over until it’s unrecognizable. You know the type. So I just sent her periodic messages. Funny memes. Sweet texts. No response.

It wasn’t until months later when she would text me to ask about a blow up mattress that I would get a response as to what happened. In short, she didn’t feel that she could be the friend I needed, that she couldn’t be a friend to me. She told me that she would never be able to talk about a break up with a boyfriend or such…because any ‘bad’ thing that would happen to her would never compare to my loss. She told me that she was resentful of me…that she thought I lied about my dog being in the hospital and that something I said upset her. I said something to the extent of ‘this is the worst day ever’ and that that wasn’t true because Paul died. I tried to reason with her. To tell her that I loved her. To tell her that I would never compare losses. That I don’t think that way. That I was better now and that she didn’t have to hold me up like she did within that first month that he died. That I was in therapy and I was doing better. She ultimately told me that we grieve in different ways…that basically I bathe in his memory and she wants to push it out and forget it.

I have reached out to her since periodically. I’ve tried many different ways of ‘getting over’ this. I’ve tried letting her go, cold turkey. Tried to just not think of her. That just didn’t work for me. I tried to ‘get it right’ in my mind. To try to accept ‘it is what it is’. I tried to be calm and let it just be. Never to text her. Okay…maybe just a couple texts. Share just a picture.Nothing has really ‘worked’ for me. Well intentioned friends and family have given me their wisdom “you’re better off without her” “just focus on your positive relationships” “she’ll come around” “it’ll blow over”. I try to put her out of my mind but I just feel like there’s this missing piece. Like it’s incomplete. I’ve gotten better though. I’d say for about the first 9+ months, I literally had to tell myself ‘no, Jessica. She doesn’t care’ every time something happened that I wanted to tell her. It was like unlearning a habit. It’s gotten better. I still feel compelled to reach out to her but most often stop myself. Such wasn’t the case of the 4th of July this year when I reached out to her with a memory. That day was amazing. I had hope for the first time within a year and a half. And she told me she wanted to talk. And we did, text, for the next few days and it was so great. We planned to meet but that day came and she cancelled at the last minute. The messages stopped. I felt like a girl that belonged in that movie ‘He’s Just Not that in to You”. I tried to resist but after several days, I texted her. She just told me that she hadn’t intended to ignore me and life was busy.

I was crushed. Again. Lisa and I had a long talk that evening. She told me I had to stop. I had to stop reaching out to her. That I needed to see what she was saying…and all her actions are saying that she just doesn’t care..at least not right now. And she said those words “she just doesn’t want or can’t be your friend”. And I was overwhelmed with emotion…I was heart-broken. I was embarrassed. I was sad. And the next day I downloaded self-help books trying to reach at something to help me find myself some peace.

That was almost 3 weeks ago. And still, I didn’t get it. Not until last week. When I had a terrible accident. I don’t even know why I did it; maybe I was trying to tug at some type of heart string…look for some glimmer of love…but I texted her a photo of my wreck. She texted back and did ask if I was okay. And the next day, I got it. Exactly what Lisa said “she just doesn’t want to be your friend”. She isn’t a bad person. I hope I haven’t painted her in a negative light. She’s just a person. And I can only speculate as to what exactly happened. I don’t know. I probably never will and I’m learning to be okay with that. My dearest friend Kati, my calm sense of reason, gave me the best analogy about wounds and experiences. I wouldn’t do it justice by trying to reiterate her words but the jist of it is that she was a huge part of my life and who I am. We had some AMAZING memories and times together that have forever changed my life. And I’m going to get to that point when I think of her or of a memory and I feel that pull at my heart that I will think ‘yep, it hurts because it was that good’. I’m trying to think of her kinda like when I think of Paul…like when I cry and my heart quite literally aches; I KNOW that it is because our love was something special, something truly great and that it made my heart bigger. It’s amazing to me but I am not bitter. Not even a little bit. My therapist asked me earlier last year to think about how I would feel if she came back a year later and if I’d be bitter. And I’m not. I’m happy I experienced a love like ours; a friendship like ours. I’m a better person for having had her in my life. And I think to myself, I’ll always keep my same cell number. Ya know, just in case she ever wants to reach out to me. I’ll still be here. And I want to get to that point. Like those friends you don’t see or talk to ever but then you do and you catch up a little and it makes you smile. That’s what I’d love to have one day.

headoncollision16
I had a rear tire blow out on the highway going 78mph. I lost complete control and crash HEAD ON into the center cement barrier. Luckily, I was okay and no one else was involved.

Just recently I experienced another unexpected blow. My baby sister unfriended me on Facebook. No blow up; no reasoning. She merely responded to my voicemail “I do not wish to speak to you. I need space from this family.” Enraged. Crushed. Perplexed. All of the above. I still am pretty clueless as to what is and has happened. She has been one of those that haven’t had the best outcome from Paul’s death. Not that there’s a great one but I’d say she hasn’t probably coped in the most healthy and effective manners. She, too, was by my side when Paul passed. She was stern and tight lipped. I knew what he meant to her. Our Papa was her everything. He was her idol and her beacon as to what a good man is. We lost him in 2009 and Jamie was understandably crushed. When Paul entered our lives in 2010, they were instant buddies. Paul had that way about him and he accepted her completely. She was his family. She looked up to him and they had a wonderful, quirky banter between them. It delighted my soul to see my sister happy and to love this man that I loved so dearly. I’d say my sister comes by many of her mannerisms quite honestly from our grandmother. She keeps it in and holds her head tall. She is unbelievably stubborn but has a heart of gold. I didn’t see her shed many tears for Paul; although, I knew that on the inside that she was shattered. In the midst of my grief, I was not able to be a big sister to her and to try to console her and encourage her to seek help and that the stuff you build inside eats at you until it finds its way out. She has said a couple times over the last year or so that I didn’t understand what she lost and while I did offer my ear to her, she never took me up on that. I have felt her pull away and I have given her her space thinking that she would find her way in time. And I was crushed on a recent sister date that I thought was going swimmingly, when she told me I was a shitty sister. Basically that I wasn’t there. I tried to explain to her that I was always there even if I wasn’t up her butt. My words didn’t hold much meaning with her and I sat there and listened as she expressed her discontent with our family. I tried to tell her what family meant to me and that her family loved her dearly but it fell on deaf ears. After I received the response from her that she didn’t want to speak to me, I reached out to her fiance. I pleaded with him to help my sister…to guide her…to help her find happiness. I was not accusatory. I felt like I was really at his mercy but I was not greeted with kindness in return as his reply was as follows:

 

You still don't get it after all this time. When Paul died he left very big shoes to be filled in everyone's lives. He didn't text once a week asking how are you, he texted saying come over or im coming to get you twice a week at least. When he said im here for you, he listened, he didn't put in his opinion or judge or say how it should have been done. When he said his door was open he made sure it was physically open when we got there. He never said maybe we should see a therapist. he never said she's not the same girl, he just learned how to love the new one. He never said she wasnt ok, he just showed up to lend a ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on. And he DEFINITELY never said this is not my sister. Im not saying your a terrible sister, but you have not even come close to what she lost when she lost Paul.Sorry to be so blunt but if you deny any of this just know, that's why you two aren't close anymore

I didn’t say anything; although, my first reaction was ‘SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH’. I held my tongue. I love her. I want the best for her. Even if it’s sitting on the sidelines until she tags me in. Saving my patience for when she comes back. I hope she comes back. I’ll still be here. And when that time comes, we will sit down and have a conversation about Paul. About what he meant to both of us. That his death is not some type of competition. His death is a reason to pull closer and not a reason to cause any type of rift between anyone; especially, not between us. It is never acceptable to use Paul’s death as a reason to shun me. His life is not one to put against mine. His integrity, actions, heart are not ones to place head to head and toe to toe next to my own. He was my partner. He was my husband. He was her brother. He was her friend. They are not to be compared. I have not made that abundantly clear to her in past times because I’ve walked on eggshells trying not to upset her. I have done her a disservice by allowing these actions/thoughts/behaviors to continue. This is a situation where I should have stood strong and voiced my thoughts even if it meant she got angry with me and cut me out of her life. Because now I see that she has done that regardless. Nevertheless, family is family. Our family is amazing. I have seen them pull through some difficult times together. I’ve seen us support each other. Cry with one another. Laugh with one another. I have faith in my family. I’m proud of my family. I’m confident that she will pull through whatever it is that she is going through and find her way back. We will be here when she does because THAT is the kind of family that we are.

What has been amazing to me since the loss of Paul is the reaction of others. You never really realize the impact that one life has on so very many until you lose them. I knew the very night that I lost him that many would be saddened by this, devastated even. What I didn’t realize was that history would be rewritten in the minds of some loved ones left behind, relationships would be destroyed and lives would be changed for the seemingly worse. It was naive of me to think that everyone would walk away with this realization that life is fucking short–that you should seize this day–that you should never let a loved one know anything contrary to how you  truly feel about them–to love more and hate less. Sure I know about grief–as a nurse, as a grandparent-less grandchild, as a widow–that it is personal and that it is different for each of us. I know that rationally. And this is the main reason that I have given slack and understanding to those who have given me less than love and empathy throughout my loss–when others looking in have said “what the fuck is wrong with them? How can they treat you this way?” I’ve tried my best to respond with kindness and understanding. I’ve tried to remain peaceful and of the right mind. To hope that they will move past this and find peace of their own. I have kept hope that time heals all wounds and surely when that occurs they will come back to me, we will embrace and all will be forgiven. That is what has been transpiring in my mind, the rational side. In my heart though, on the inside where all is raw–I’m a bundle of nerves. Constantly on high alert.  I constantly think 3-5 steps ahead. I’m conscientious of what I may say and how that may impact others. Just as with this blog. I started it on the premise that I would be honest and truthful. And I have been. But I’ve also filtered. Not because what I think and feel is wrong but because of how others might feel. Because of how it may impact them. Because maybe 5 years from now my former bff will change her mind and decide she loves me and wants to be in my life so I must guard what I say as to not hurt the chance of the slim possibility. I was describing how it feels to be on guard of a ‘what could be’ relationship to Lisa’s 16 year old. And as the words just fumbled out of my mouth, I realized how ridiculous it sounded. She was not confused by what I was trying to say though. She got it because she, too, unfortunately, battles with extreme anxiety. She very calmly and plainly said ‘that is hard. But sometimes, even though it’s hard, you have to just put yourself first. To do what’s best for you. And you know what? We will be there for you. Because we love you”. Wow, right? Wow. I love that kid. She is 100% right. And that is exactly what I am working on doing. Practicing what I preach

crazytrio emilylovesme

 

3yrRN
On the left: my FIRST day as an RN 2013 On the right: 2016

 

As always, guys: live for today. Love everyday. Hug those you love. And be sure to tell them exactly what they mean to you.