There's a mirror right in front of my treadmill at my gym. The first day I braved the little torture device, I was very uncomfortable looking up at my reflection as I walked. I didn't want to see myself huffing and puffing and jiggling all over the place.

As time has worn on, I find that far from being uncomfortable with that mirror, I can't stop looking at it. I walk very fast on the treadmill, and brave short, running intervals as I start to feel ready. My cheeks flush a very pretty shade of pink when my blood gets pumping. My skin sort of glows a bit when I sweat. My hair, too short still to form a neat pony tail, sort of flows freely around my face. I lift it up and hold it atop my head as I walk occasionally, singing quietly along to the music on my iPod.

Damn. I look pretty. What a revelation.

Since I have been on a regular exercise program for a week, now, I thought I'd share some thoughts I have had about the concept of body hatred.

I have been doing 20 minutes of cardio a day (I am down to a 20 minute mile. I know that doesn't sound very good, but believe me, for the girl who never could run, even at her most fit, this is a good thing.) and doing some exercise to strengthen my non existent core. My attitude about my body over the last week or so that I have been committed to losing weight has surprised me.

I thought that once I got going I would feel so self conscious about myself around all these fit people at the gym, that I would be motivated to work my big butt off all that much more. I thought that it would spur me deeper into self loathing, so that I would be motivated to change myself.

First of all, the only fit people I see at my gym are the trainers. And that's because my one if particular is in her 20s and hasn't had any babies yet!

Secondly, and this is strange, I am actually finding my body less repulsive than when I first started. I haven't lost an inch around my waist. I haven't lost a pound. But I find myself sort of admiring the curve of my hips when I see them in the mirror, instead of focusing on my stretch marks. I feel less like engaging in that negative self talk that led me down such a dark path over the past year. Instead, I look down at my legs and think "Oh, wow, look at that calf muscle! I am so lucky I can walk!" or "Hey, my bicep is actually performing pretty well with these weights!" When before, I would have thought only about my skinny ankles, or how flabby the underside of my upper arms are.

Now, I have a ways to go before I can look at my belly and think "Hey, what a great asset!",  but, I think I am actually seeing it for what it is now instead of seeing the warped version I am used to in my mind. I am not thin, yet, but I actually have a pretty well defined waist. I couldn't see that two weeks ago.

I am actually feeling more energetic, and very grateful for every part of me. I have a heart that pumps blood and lungs that take oxygen to my cells. My hands soothe my children's owies, my legs carry me where I need to go. All the hard work of moving my body has made me incredibly grateful for it.

You know, perhaps body hatred is a fairly new phenomenon because our ancestors didn't have modern conveniences that eliminate the hard work of day to day living. Who had time to hate your thighs, when you were busy scrubbing clothes at the river, or gathering that night's food, or milking your cows? All you knew, is that your body was carrying you around, helping you do the tasks throughout the day that keep you alive. What is not to love about arms to hold your babies? About the breasts that nurtured them through infancy?

Exercising my body has given me a taste of that hard work.  No, I haven't lost anything yet. But I sure have gained a whole lot.

Well. It's been a (very) long time. Two years actually. Over the past year or so, I kept thinking, boy I really should write something of these experiences I am having. I kept promising myself I'd catch back up, and then something else would happen, and I'd say "Maybe when it all settles down."

It never settles down. Seriously.

It pretty much has been a year or so of hell. I sank into a deep dark place. A lot of aggravating factors came into play. I nearly left the church. Again. I was on the brink of something awful. I ruined Thanksgiving when my parents came up to visit, and I didn't even really notice that my behavior was all that off...Our car died, we were pretty much broke for a year, 1/2 of our family caught strep (some of us more than once), and I am pretty sure I lost my mind. Like, not getting out of bed for days out of my mind.

Sigh.

I got into therapy, quit my calling (that is an interesting story in and of itself, and let's just say I am still healing from being the Cubmaster.), and got a job.

And I feel like a new person. I am still healing. I still have (a lot of) bad days, and quite frankly, I am still deciding what kind of person and who I really am. Some parts of my life just don't seem to fit me anymore, and I am really struggling trying to make them. I don't know how it will all work out, but it is and will continue to be a pretty scary path.

You see, I have always felt like there were two different sides of me constantly at war with each other. The super responsible, rule following, peacemaking, almost painfully good girl. And the rebellious, independent, wanna be rock chick. I don't know how to merge these two people and sometimes it causes me extreme discomfort in my personal relationships. I sort of feel like I have to hide one or the other depending on who I am with.

Not really sure what to make of it, but it sounds like something I need to work out with my therapist.

Anyway, I'd love to spill some of my guts about what is happening in my head, but something tells me this isn't the right venue. I want to talk about how I never thought that having social problems with people at church could dim the light of my testimony. But I know I can't. It's not all clear in my own head, i am not sure I need the extra input from someone else's head right now. But let me just say that I will never mock and roll my eyes at people who say they've left due to being offended again. It was so much more than just "being offended". Wounded is a good word. I have a hard time showing my face around these people, and I simply feel absolutely defeated.

Not sure that's the best environment to feel close to God. I know it's never felt the same since.

I'd also like to talk about how crushing boredom, I have found, is actually a pretty good indicator of depression. Who knew. God, I am bored. But again, not sure I am ready for any judgments and advice on that yet, either.

So, I can mention what has happened in the last year or so. Jake finished 8th grade and is off to high school next year. He's discovered the drums and is in the pit for marching band in the fall. Angelice just finished 5th grade and is off to middle school next year. She's wearing a bra now. I don't know how to accept that. She needs braces, and wants to play the clarinet. Ben finished first grade, and boy aren't we all relieved. He is a slow starter, that boy, and worked his butt off all year to catch up to reading at grade level. Now, he's actually reading ahead of grade level, and we couldn't be prouder. Holly is a helluva spitfire. She's 4 now, and "not a baby anymore, momma." We butt heads a bit, but she is the cutest thing ever, and the light of my life. I would be insane right now if it weren't for these great kids.

I got a job and credit that and therapy with my ongoing recovery. Something about earning my own money, and deciding for myself what to with it has made me feel like I can go on.

I have also developed a pretty hardcore addiction to music. I could go on for days about the new bands I am listening to, and what their music means to me, and how I have felt solace in the lyrics and melodies. How  finding beauty in something has given me the hope to continue getting better.

So. There's a bit of an update. I have quite a lot on my mind lately, so I might be back here more often. Naw. Let's not get carried away. LOL.

While the Children Run Wild

While the children run wild, my husband studies his chemistry. While the children run wild, the two of us get some much needed alone time. During their screamfests upstairs in their rooms, I frantically start more laundry and hunt down shoes before getting ready to head out to Pack Meeting.

While the children play raucous games of tigers or cops and robbers, screaming at the tops of their lungs, arguing about whose turn it is to hold the Nerf dart gun with the laser light, I am desperately trying to throw some dinner into the oven, wash the dishes from lunch and breakfast, clean the bathroom, all at the same time.

Why do I let my kids run wild? Why do I let them destroy the top floor of our apartment? Why, oh why, do I not race up the stairs when one of them begins screaming, when I hear a thump, when someone's crying?

Because I have finally learned my lesson.

I cannot control everything. I cannot solve every argument, nor should I. I am very busy. I run a household where 6 people live, sleep, eat, clean themselves, play, do their homework. It takes time and energy to keep it organized and running. If I didn't leave my kids alone for 20 minutes, I would never have things for them to eat off of. If I didn't ignore that thump or that argument, I would never get dinner made. Or get a shower. Or have clean laundry.

So, I am DONE worrying about what the neighbors think of my screaming kids. It's who they are. We are loud. We express our opinions. My kids enjoy playing rough sometimes. They don't give in when they want something. And I have 6 loads of laundry, 2 loads of dishes, three big bags of trash to take out, and three meals to make. Sorry. They're going to scream.

End of Summer a New Beginning

So, our lives have taken a major turn over the last few months. We have moved, (twice), Ted has started school, we have gone from a career track to college, from settled (somewhat) to transitioning.

In a week, my oldest child will begin middle school. I guess I am going to have to get used to the idea of being a mother to a teenager. My third child will be starting Kindergarten. It's going to be strange having only one at home during the day again.

I look forward to change. I wish it didn't come in the form of a layoff, and move back to a town I never thought I'd be back to, but I feel as though we are no longer just along for a roller coaster ride. I feel like we are actually behind the wheel for once.

It's a nice feeling.

Where Do I Turn During a Crap Storm

I know it sounds ridiculous. But I turn to music. Right now I am reliving some of my heydays as a pop music fan. I may be alone in my age/demographic group but I GET Lady GaGa. Weirdness always has a place in this world; and even though she's not all that original as some say (Hello, ever heard of Madonna?) I LOVE her voice, her music, and dig that she's a chic writer. Not a whole heckuva lot of successful ones in the pop music industry.

And Country. Right now I am listening to a little bit of Taylor Swift, Miranda Lambert (Shelton, congrats to her!), and of course Lady Antebellum. The older I get the more I appreciate the wholesome family, God and country themes of this type of music. Check out Miranda's "The House That Built Me" for some good old sappy reminicense about where YOU grew up.

And of course, I am digging my boy band du jour NKOTB. Their new single (with creepy younger boy band Backstreet Boys; never been a fan, sorry) Don't Turn Out the Lights is racous dance number that has me dancing in my driver's seat every time.

The biggest thing I can say about music is this: If you are only listening to one genre you are missing out on a lot. There is a time and place for everything. There is a time for Neil Diamond and a time for the Raconteurs. There is a time for Led Zeppelin and a time for Martina McBride. A time for Duran Duran and a time for Beethoven's 5th. There is even a time for showtunes.

I would not have said that 10 years ago. As I get older, though, I realize how each different type of music is like a different color of the rainbow. It complements and enhances different moods, seasons of life, and events. I could not live without the different flavors of music in my life that enhance it so much.

What are YOU going to listen to today that you might have written off before?

On Trying Times

The past few weeks have been very trying for me. The children have started school, though, and things have begun to settle back into a comforting routine.

It's not a single thing that has happened that has challenged me so much as it has been a combination of many factors. Some of them are normal every day challenges that all parents face, but for whatever reason, they seem to be very overwhelming for me. I have learned that my quest for perfection can be very very paralyzing and lead to my worst nightmare: failure.

Some of them have been related to this horrible economy, and the housing crash and the fact that we still can't sell the home I loved and have not lived in for more than 6 months. I miss my home to this day, and it breaks my heart that it is sitting empty and dilapadated while we attempt to give it back to the mortgage company....who don't seem to want it.

And still others are so large and so serious that I probably will never list them here: you will know nothing about them because they are too personal. Suffice it to say I have been through more in my marriage, more in my life, more in my family in the past 6 months than I have been through in the prior 14 years.

So, what have I really learned? Well, i am still going through a bunch of muck, but I can tell you what I have learned so far. First, and foremost is that the Lord works on his own time, not yours. As I have been up nights begging God to make my baby sleep...and then feeling let down when she doesn't, I can say that God doesn't always give you what you want.

I am not sure how I feel about that, and I can't say that it has not shaken my faith. It is a trial that I still struggle with, trying to understand what my trials and challenges are supposed to be teaching me, and whether or not they will go away once I have learned what I need to learn.

I have learned that Satan is after my family. I know that sounds dramatic. Some who read this blog may not be familiar with my religious beliefs, so bear with me here. Basically families are at the center of God's plan for us, and each partner in a marriage is essential to the righteous rearing of children. And hopefully we'll all hang together in a glorious wonderful place with God when this is all over. Except you see, Satan is aware of the strength and influence that good parents are to their children. And sometimes he attacks those parents, their partnership, in order to derail God's plan.

I always thought about that in terms of the abstract; you know, things that just happen in day to day life that challenge our feelings of self worth, that kind of thing. Well, these past few weeks have really opened my eyes. I have felt the test, I have been burned by the fire. I testify that Satan is real, and he is powerful, and he is rooting for us to fail. You see if my husband and I fail, then he has our children.

My children. They are powerful spirits, and I have known that from the very beginning. Each one of them has special gifts, and I know that it is my responsibility to teach them how to use those gifts to further God's work here on Earth. What would Satan give to thwart their eternal destinies, to deny the Lord these amazing people. I know how this sounds, believe me. But I can only say that I know these things to be true.

I have never been tested so thoroughly, so relentlessly, so painfully in all my life.

So. Keep in mind when you judge another's life that you don't know everything. You certainly don't know what is happening in their hearts, and in the stillness of their rooms...what their failures and fears are, and what their sorrows and trials are...

I think maybe that is what God wants me to learn. Compassion for others and their joys and sorrows. Heaven knows we could all use a little more of that.