I spoke to my father today. He is an alcoholic. He quit drinking only months ago. I found out this week he was in the hospital for heart problems, a partially collapsed lung, and his skin cancer on his lip has returned. I’m sure these health issues are in direct relation to his alcoholism and smoking history.

I am sad about his health circumstances on many levels. He is my father. I have wonderful memories of him and I up to about the age of five or six, when he disappeared out of my life (POOF!) until I was seventeen.

I’ve heard about his wild party years, his bar brawls, his cross country trips on his motorcycle. I would always laugh, smile and wink at him when he told me about the good old days. Those were some fun and fantastic days for him, for sure! No cares in the world, a 24 hour party and always a woman willing to keep him company.

For me, those years weren’t so cheery. I struggled in school, I struggled with my sense of self and I struggled to understand why I was left behind without a father. My self worth – well there wasn’t much. My addictions to food began in those early childhood years – primarily because of his actions.

As I talked to my father today, I asked him if he had thought about joining an alcohol support group to ensure that he was with like minded individuals. I’ve often read that you have a higher success rate at beating your addictions if you have support. He told me he didn’t need that. He could “quit drinking anytime he wanted”.

We all know that is bullshit. He is a life long alcoholic and has quit and restarted too many times to count.

I told him I would always be here for him if he needed to talk if he felt the need to drink. And I meant it. Even though he has never been there for me, I still want to help. Some people call this stupidity. I call it the generosity of the human spirit. Don’t get me wrong, I am no doormat – but I am a loving person and I will help those I know if they need it.

Sometimes when I think of our relationship I feel like an empty shell. When I allow myself to remember the wonderful memories I shared with him as a child, I get very upset. It’s almost like that person does not exist or is merely a figment of my imagination. I’m not really sure if it was really me and him. Did those moments happen? I was happy once upon a time, right?

I’ve often refused to let myself feel many emotions because of these circumstances. I’ve often thought about how different my life would be today if he hadn’t been an alcoholic and my mother hadn’t divorced him and if he would have stayed in my life.

What if I was raised with a two parent household and had the support of a father figure in my life?

Would I have had more self confidence as a child?
Would I not have turned to food and actually allowed myself to feel emotions?
Would I have not been the chubby child in school and not been picked on?
Would I have been more of an extrovert and tried harder to make friends?
Would I have had friends to even say they were my friends?
You know, REAL friends that are always there with no strings attached?
Would I have stuck with basketball and volleyball after elementary school
and played throughout my school years and been successful?
Would I have had a parent that showed up at teacher's conferences to hear
how good I was doing?
Would I have had a parent that would have been there for me to set boundaries?
Would I have actually had a parent that gave a shit what I was doing and
wasn't busy working two and three jobs at a time?
Would anyone have even cared?
Would I have had high aspirations for myself and attended a good four year college?
What about getting a scholarship?
Would I have joined a sorority?
Would I have had the big wedding and reception I always wanted?
Who would I be without all of the hurt and all of the pain that I feel in
the pit of my gut?
Would I be the same person I am today?
Would I be struggling with my weight?
Would I be happy today?
......

There’s obviously no easy answers to any of this, but I can tell you that alcoholism is not a fucking joke. It destroys lives. It destroys families. It destroys little girls – like I once was.

I can’t live with the what if’s in my life any longer. I have to put that to rest. I have to live with who I am. I am a work in progress. I am a deserving person. I am worth it.

I struggle only a handful of days out of the year, and most days I come out on top. Often, I think of that happy little girl who loved her father and who enjoyed riding high on top of his shoulders and trips to pick strawberries from the patch. Then I think of the sad little girl who arrived after that. I just cannot reconcile the two.

So I keep on fighting the fight.

I’m not ashamed to be the person that I am today.

from Wikipedia: Physical fitness comprises two related concepts: general fitness (a state of health and well-being) and specific fitness (a task-oriented definition based on the ability to perform specific aspects of sports or occupations). Physical fitness is generally achieved through exercise, correct nutrition and enough rest. It is an important part of life.

from Wikipedia: A spiritual warrior is a person who bravely battles with the universal enemy, self-ignorance (avidya), the ultimate source of suffering according to dharmic philosophies. [2] The term is applied in religious and metaphysical writing. There are self-described spiritual warriors. [3] The spiritual warrior can be described as an archetype character on a journey for self discovery to benefit others.

More than anything, this journey of mine is a spiritual one.

I am a WARRIOR at heart. I’ve battled many storms and lots of adversity in my life.

By far, the biggest and toughest struggle I’ve faced is this thing they call OBESITY. IT is a problem. A problem for me, a problem for vast numbers of Americans.

I struggle with it just about every day.

I’m talking about everything that envelopes what OBESITY is, has manifested it, and what caused it for me. The unhealthy foods; the wanting to sit on my ass and give up; the frustration of clothing not fitting right; the horror of seeing myself in a photo that is true to life.

The one constant in my battle against OBESITY has been exercise, or FITNESS. It has become my go to. My one true friend. It’s always there for me when I need a pick me up. It has replaced Little Debbie Cosmic Brownies as my crack of choice.

I’m on a never ending quest for MY perfect fitness. It may take me a long time to get there, but I will get there. I will persevere. I will see this through. Fitness is my friend for life. Read this related post on Building a Goal from the Outside In from Roy Cohen’s Contemplative Fitness.

Many months ago I was looking for a good slogan to put on some t-shirts. Lord knows I’ve struggled to find the right fitting t-shirts for this girl. Too short, too tight around the neck, etc. I wanted to have something I could look at in the gym mirror to keep me motivated and remind me of who I am and who I strive to be and a t-shirt that had the right fit where I didn’t have to worry about how it looked while I was focusing on my exercises.

By throwing out a t-shirt slogan challenge to my fellow bloggers and followers many months ago, I got some wonderful suggestions. But there could only be one true slogan for me and for all of you fighting the good fight.

FITNESS WARRIOR

BEFORE my gym time… You know this girl sweats her ass off so you can only imagine how I looked after!

I LOVE how long the sleeves are. Long sleeves are my favorite to run in.

Tara from 263 and Counting and Meegan from Redstar 5 helped coin the term. True to my word, they are both getting a free FITNESS WARRIOR t-shirt for their creative minds.

Today I went to the gym and wore my new FITNESS WARRIOR zip up hoodie. It may be corny, but it made me realize I am my own FITNESS WARRIOR. I hit it very hard today – and wiped yesterday off the books today in the gym.

I’ve got more t-shirts on order and even gym towels that I will put up on the blog for giveaways and for sale if you are interested in promoting your spiritual self – a FITNESS WARRIOR.

Are you a FITNESS WARRIOR or do you have another term that describes you better?

It’s hard to believe it’s been 11 years since we first met at the video store. Who would have guessed way back then that we’d be where we are now?

Me, an opinionated girl with something to prove.

You, a sweet guy with nothing to prove.

Us, well magic.

You’ve never made me feel bad about my weight or my circumstances. Through all of the pregnancies (three!) and at my largest weight of 300 lbs, I could always count on you to make me smile – even when I wasn’t feeling good about myself or my body.

Through all of the failed diet attempts – Atikins, Kimkins, Weight Watchers, diet pills, a stab at getting approved for gastric bypass – you supported me unquestionably.

When I started working out at the gym last Fall, you tagged along and supported me, asking ME for tips on how to lift the weights. Wow!

When I got on an outdoor running kick last Spring, but didn’t want to do it alone, guess who ran with me even though he hated it? YOU. You never once told me you hated doing it, even though you did. I figured that out on my own. You did it for ME.

When I told you I wanted to find a way to make a living by helping others and myself in the fitness realm, you told me YES, I could do it and it would be perfect for me. Never once did you laugh at me or tell me it was a crazy idea.

All of the hours spent blogging, video editing, commenting on other blogs – you never complained. Because you knew it was helping me.

I’ve always been able to count on you for support for everything that I do. EVERYTHING SINGLE THING.

When we found out Gavin was on the way – and it was surprise indeed! – you never faltered.

You’ve been the father that this girl never had. An amazing one to boot.

You played Mr. Mom to our youngest for two years while I worked full time on my career – and you enjoyed every single bit of it. She was only six weeks old when I took the job, but that made your bond with her all the more deep.

Eleven years ago, we spent some magical nights near Lake Michigan. Times I will never forget. Memories that will forever be etched in the sand dunes, near the life guard chair.

This picture, my favorite one I have of you, reminds me of how far we’ve come – and how far we’ll go.

I love you. Thank you for supporting me… And for well, being you.

Thoughts?

[ link to original source ]

I dislike labels and titles. They never seem to do anyone any good.

For instance, I had a job once and my job title was “Operations Administrative Assistant” even though I did far more technological, IT and computer programming work than I did administrative work. On some level, I thought it to be a bit demeaning having the “administrative” part in my title. Other IT professionals in the online community I participated in looked down on me because of this. It really pissed me off.

At a job previous to the one above, all of the girls in our office were referred to as “Administrative Assistants” – mainly because we were women that were all glorified typists and coffee fetchers for the men that worked for the company. We all felt so IMPORTANT. But the fact of the matter was, we were just glorified typists and coffee fetchers making minimum wage.

Sheesh.

I don’t let titles dictate how I feel about myself or my life anymore – but it wasn’t always like that though.

One title that used to royally piss me off was when I was referred to as the “fat friend”. The thing was, I’d act like it didn’t bother me. I’d act like I didn’t hear people refer to me as such. It was like it never happened in my world.

Denial is a strong emotion.

On some level I think SOME thinner girls like having a “fat friend” because it makes them look that much thinner and better. How fucking shallow is that? Pretty shallow.

As a youth, I had the same best friend from 2nd grade all the way up through about 11th grade. We did everything together. As we both grew up, I was chubbier (a.k.a. fatter) than my friend. Labels abound in the world of children and teens and she happened to be labeled the “thin one” and I was the “fat friend”.

I still feel a tinge of pain – a shot right to the heart – thinking about it. The reason why I feel this pain reminiscing may not be the “why” that you think it is.

Yes, I was chubbier than her. Maybe I was a little “fat”. The reason why it bothers me is that I gave it the power to bother me. I lost a little bit of my innocence as a child because of that label. Ironically, the label really doesn’t mean shit now.

How many times in our lives have we let other people’s labels and titles define us or determine our moods?

• She’s just a fat ass.
• He’s a faggot.
• You’re a jack ass.
• You’ll never be smart enough.
• You’re a ditsy blond.
• You’ll never be able to lose the weight
• You are lazy and will always be fat.
• She hates obese people.
• He hates thin people.
• She’s a scandalous blogger. (ha ha)
• etc, etc.

Let the negative titles and labels imposed on us by others go. Let them evaporate into nothing-ness because the truth of the matter is, none of them matter. They do not determine who you are as a person. The only things that determines who you are as a person is your thoughts and actions, not those of a hater.

How about giving yourself a POSITIVE title?

Have you ever been referred to as the “fat friend” before? How did that make you feel?

If you gave yourself a title, what would it be?