the whole truth

i'm ready to be honest with myself, my blog readers, & the whole world wide web (aka universe). so today, on the life of my ferrets, i swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. so help me god(s). amen.

i've let a lot of stuff slide as of late, one of the main ones has been my blog. not that i don't love my writing, my blog, or my readers (if any are still left as of this date). i've been absent because i've been healing. i'm finally at a good place, a great place, a place of peace. some place that intellectually i knew existed, but some place that i was never quite sure i would see in this life time.

today i find myself firmly in recovery. & yet, i'm not quite sure yet if recovery is a forever road, or if i will one day find myself totally recovered from the evil demon that is my eating disorder. i eat now. i get my three meals & my three snacks. it's not what the peeps at HCMC would prefer since i'm a post gastric bypass patient, they'd prefer the three meals, but my body just doesn't work that way. & for my physical, mental, & emotional health i need to make sure i'm eating every couple of hours.

for the most part i'm not restricting (starving myself) & for the most part i'm not binging. once in a while i will have a day where for whatever reason i think it's a good idea to push my body & i wait much too late to have breakfast. or i'll skip lunch or under eat at dinner. on the flip side of that coin when i'm stressed i some times find myself reaching to munch on something. the old habit of using food as an emotional band-aid. the difference now is that i recognize myself doing these things & i stop myself. i stop myself because i know that i'm worth fighting for. that it's just food. it's fuel. & if i want to accomplish all the AMAZING things i have planned for myself i need to treat my body as a machine. ya know, rotate the tires, get the oil changed, fill the gas tank, get the engine detailed....oh wait, that's the list of maintenance for my saturn.

what has happened thus far in 2011? so many things! the year is almost 25% done and already i'm on cloud nineteen (yes, i'm still a drama queen with a flair for melodrama after all this time). just on friday i had my defense for my MFA thesis. &{drum roll please}: i passed with no revisions required! which means i need to just get the final copies of my thesis to the office and then i graduate. it's been 9 years that i've been in the MFA program & i'm finally graduating. when i think on it i'm so happy that i literally want to cry.

cry? why for you ask. thanks for asking. {hint: here's where the truth, the whole truth & nothing but the truth part comes in} i cry because i realize how terribly close i came to not making it to this day. back in 2009 when my uncle joe died i missed his funeral because of how sick i was with my eating disorder. & while i was honest about this on my blog i wasn't brutally honest. the brutal honesty is something that i've come face to face with in the past month as i finished my thesis & really done some hard core introspection on my time in the MFA program. there was something about facing the end of the student era of my life & preparing to move onto the next, as of yet unnamed, phase that has made me rewind time and re-watch my life.

my plan is to use my poetry to change the world. i want to take my message about living with & recovering from an eating disorder to help keep other girls from going through the same hell. & as i prepare to do that i've realized that even though i'm in recovery i have not been completely honest with the people i care most about. my eating disorder nearly killed me. i'm not being melodramatic. i'm not asking for sympathy, for pity, or for tears. i just need to be transparent about what really happened.

2009 was a total craptastic year in so very many ways. but it was a year that i needed. that year tested me. when i was at the sickest & allowing my eating disorder demon to control me i was so weak that each day i was in pain. this is not a metaphor. yes i was in emotional & mental pain. but i was in physical pain. my back hurt, my tail bone hurt, my chest hurt. every day it hurt to breathe. i'm not even talking deep breaths, i'm talking regular breathing made my chest hurt. but i was scared to say anything because i did not want to be hospitalized.

when my therapist told me that she thought i needed to be hospitalized i balked. i know if i would have told her about the chest pains i probably would have been committed against my will {which was the only way, i told her, i would be hospitalized} at one point she said that i was so malnourished & dehydrated that if i did not start eating i would probably be placed on a feeding tube. i was in such a dark place that secretly i wanted that to happen. because if i had a feeding tube then i wouldn't have to deal with food. as i type this & remember sitting in her office with that reality it does make me sad. she was trying to use it as a threat & the me at that time saw it as a golden ticket.

the thing that i have not confessed to anyone until recently is how close i really came to death. i'm convinced now as i look back at that time that i was much closer to dying than i realized. every week i thought about dying at least three or four times. sometimes it was multiple times a day. it was not that i wanted to kill myself. to me that was selfish to slice my wrists open or over dose on pills. but i was slowly killing myself. every day it hurt to open my eyes, i drank a gallon of coffee a day just to get myself enough energy to drive the 3.3 miles to work & hunch over my desk. i put a smile on my face when people were looking, a grimace when no one was looking.

at least twice a week i would tally the people in my life. my mom, my dad, my sister, my brother, my grandma, each of my friends. & as i thought of each one i would tell myself they would be okay if i didn't wake up the next day. if my heart just stopped beating from the strain, the stress, not enough food, not enough water. & as i thought of each of them i did feel a bit of guilt, what would happen if i did die. but i also told myself they would be okay. i told myself that then my parents wouldn't need to worry anymore. that my dad wouldn't tell my sister that because we work at the same place it's her responsibility to go to my desk each day & make sure i'm eating.

even my ferrets. i thought of them & what would happen to them. i knew my family would make sure they were taken care of until they crossed the rainbow bridge. cassie & sunny d, my first two boys. they'd be sad, but they would get over it. podo & doodle are strong & would carry on. marley, linus & lucy were young & resilient. they'd all be okay. except for my nyddah. my little rescue from the humane society. i knew that if i died nyddah would not be okay. she would not be okay just living with my parents.

she crawled into a deep crevice in my heart when she reached up & licked my chin at the shelter on august 16, 2008. i've heard people say soul mates are not always human. in a way i feel nyddah is my soul mate. i love that little furkid more than i ever thought i could love another soul. just as she crawled into my heart i know i crawled into hers. it was miss nyddah & the thought that my death would kill her that kept me getting up day after day. it kept me fighting. i know that it will probably hurt those that i love when they realize that what kept me going was nyddah instead of one of the humans in my life.

but as i type this i don't hang my head in shame. {statistics are slippery things & i try not to use them, especially in my blog, however....} about 20% of people with eating disorders will die without treatment. even receiving treatment 2-3% of people with an eating disorder will die as a result of their disease. sure, that's a low statistic. however. i tend to defy the odds. there was a minuscule chance, less than 1%, of the type of complications i had post gastric bypass, & yet i had surgery again four months & three days after my bypass because of complications. my tonsils were removed twice because they grew back. i was born with only three wisdom teeth. i tend to be an odd conglomeration of weird medical issues.

& the point of all of this? honesty. i want to change the world with my poetry. i want to stand in front of millions of people & read my poems & change their lives. i will open people's hearts & minds & change the way people with eating disorders are viewed. i will open the dialogue so that there is no more shame. it's a disease just like breast cancer or seizure disorders or alzheimers. no one blames someone for getting cancer or having seizures or alzheimers, why attach shame to an eating disorder. & to be the role model i know i can be, to revolutionize the way people see this disease, i need to make sure i'm honest with myself, with those around me.

to thank nyddah for saving my life i've dedicated my poetry book to her. i realize she's a ferret and {probably} can't read. but, for me, i needed to acknowledge how close i came to dying & who saved my life. so, miss nyddah: i love you, always. thank you for saving me.

holy long absence, batman!

so after poking a facebook friend to read my blog and then i'll read hers i decided to see how long it's been since i blogged and was gobsmacked to find out it's been two plus months! then again, the past two months have been very full. just two days after my last blog, on august 8th, my sweetheart fry was in a very bad car accident and nearly killed. thank the gods he was able to walk away. here's what happened:

he was headed north on round lake boulevard in anoka. it's a two lane highway, the speed limit is 55 mph. a car was stopped to make a left. so the car in front of fry stopped. and fry stopped. and there's where it got ugly. the 20-something girl behind him "looked down for a second" when she looked up everyone was stopped. she jerked the wheel to the right and slammed on her brakes but hit the back right of fry's yaris hard enough to bend the axle and plow his car into the car in front of him and into oncoming traffic where his car was then hit again by a full size dodge ram pickup. his car was completely totaled out. and everyone who talked to us in the weeks after said usually the driver doesn't live in accidents like this:


even now with him sitting next to me eating bbq pringles and watching a very bad "meteor destroys earth movie" knowing he's safe. knowing he's ok. i get panicky and tears threaten to run because i came so very close to losing him. my heart races and my throat closes and i want to drop to my knees and thank the gods for sparing him.

he did actually WALK away from this accident. he got himself out of the car. called me when i was on my way to my part time job and said "i was just rear ended, do you think you can give me a ride?" i asked if he was ok and he said yeah, fine, he just needed a ride. thankfully i didn't see the car until the next day when i went to empty it for him. he didn't even want to go to the hospital, i made him because he had the seat belt mark embedded in his chest and kept saying he wanted to sleep and i was worried about a head injury. thankfully the full extent of his injuries were deep bruises, some slight ligament tears, and partially detached muscle. minuscule in relation to what could have been.

august was filled with helping fry recover. find a new car. both of us learn to be ok riding in cars without fearing the person behind us was out to kill us. i still sometimes feel anxiety when driving. and even more so when i'm passenger. his sister came up to visit from hawaii. we saw weird al at the state fair. life was getting back to normal.

and then bad news from the west. my uncle john, my uncle joe's younger brother, was getting weaker. my aunt sharon emailed us asking for prayers. not prayers for a cure or a miracle. but prayers for comfort and peace and no pain. then in the evening on wednesday september 8th, a month to the day after fry's accident, my cousin rico called to tell us the doctors said my uncle would be lucky to make it 24 hours and they would be simply shocked if he made it through the weekend. my dad packed a bag. tossed and turned all night. and headed west early on the 9th. he made it to the hospital in north dakota just before 2pm on the 9th. he spent a few final hours with his best friend/brother before my uncle john died on september 10th just before 5am.

so with a lot of fear of driving, cars, and dying behind the wheel: i got in my saturn and drove west to say good bye. i returned to the town i was born in. a town i hadn't seen in 30 years and 2 months and 29days. all in all i spent less than 24 hours in that north dakota town before returning east again. to home.

now, not like any of this is ALL about me, but i had just started to gain my balance again and completely had the pins knocked out from under me. my uncle john was my godfather. one of the steadies in my life. i still have both my parents, but i always thought that when the time came that i lost one of them my uncle john would be the one to hold me up and give me strength and he would still be there to take care of me. i wanted to see his face when i received my mfa from hamline. i thought he'd dance with me at my wedding. that he'd hold my babies and they'd call him grandpa john. i've had to learn to live again in a world without him. and, honestly, i hate that. but i'm trying not to resent it too much. trying not to have too much animosity towards the heavens for taking him.

it's exhausting to be thanking the gods for sparing fry while at the same time cursing them for taking my uncle john. oh, and then, the day my uncle died it was announced that i got a promotion at work. seriously. talk about an emotional mixed bag. but. blessing too? because i needed something new at work. a new challenge to better use my talents and skills. i'd been in my previous position for nearly 3 years and it was time for a change.

sum up? so, the past 2 1/2 months = nearly losing my lover, my uncle dying, and a promotion.

did i mention that i also have stopped seeing my therapist & nutritionist and decided i'm well enough to tackle this whole eating disorder thing on my own? but, you know what? maybe i am. because all of this could have sent me into a serious spiral and caused me to starve myself again. and it hasn't. i have my moments of poor choices, but everyone does. it's called being human.

ferret naptime

and here is my little boy, sundance (aka sunny d) napping. oy. now THAT is what i'd love to do right now. maybe i can grab a nap tonight before fry and i have a fire? ah, i love our summer evening bonfires in the backyard.

finally: an explaination on the weight loss ticky-ticker

granted, yes, for some people with an eating disorder they need to stay far far away from scales because it's detrimental to them. for me my problems with eating are more closely tied to my emotions rather than a number on the scale. although a number on the scale can upset me, as it can to many people, it's not enough to send me running for the kitchen in search of something to gnaw on.

i know it can seem somewhat contradictory. but i need to be able to keep track of my weight and i do want to keep losing weight. for me i want to get to a healthy weight. right now i'm still technically "obese" according to the medical charts. my first goal is to become overweight. yes. my goal is to become overweight. but when you're starting at obese it's a goal that makes sense. once i get to 174 pounds then i'll merely be overweight. yippee! my last weigh in and i was just shy of that goal. i know, weight loss is a slippery little bugger. and especially for women things can sway dramatically based on water retention and the like. but i'm keeping tabs on what i'm doing.

at work i have started taking the stairs. up to the fifth floor each day. and when i have to go to the bathroom i walk down to the first floor, use the bathroom there, and then back up again. yeah, it's a little thing, but i feel like the more little things i do the more they will add up for me. i really want to get in the routine of getting 10,000 steps a day. some days are better than others. i think the last time i got to that many steps was a few days ago. right now i'm at 4,357. getting the steps in during a normal work day can be a challenge to say the least. but i'm happy with the challenges i'm facing lately. and i feel as though i'm meeting them with dignity and grace.

insomnia: again? really?!

so. sitting on the couch in the living room. eleven ferrets wrecking havoc on the house. three in the kitchen. eight in the living room. and i can't sleep. one attacking my slipper. it's not doodle. it's cass. holy fucking hell. i know, it's obvious why i can't sleep: there's eleven ferrets tearing ass around the house making noise and trashing the place. that's not it. i'm not sure why i'm not sleepy. i thought i would be. work has been a steady pace lately. and sometimes emotionally challenging. it's tough being big brother and telling people they messed up. it's even more difficult having to tell someone that no, you won't change your mind, and try to nicely get them out of your cube so you can leave work on time.

but i'm actually very content, work life aside. fry and i have a nice home with our furkids. now and again when the temps are decent at night and the bugs're scarce we'll have a bonfire out back and make s'mores. we are very much into cuddling on the couch and watching netflix streaming through my wii. lately we've been on an xfiles kick. (i'm an xfiles junkie from way back so i like to skip around and watch my favorite episodes...currently the rain king...fry is an xfiles newbie so when we watch together we have started from the beginning).

there is a lot on my mind lately. i've finally come to terms with the fact that i very much do have trouble with collecting things. i think i've known it for a long time. and it's something that i've been working on with my therapist for the past few months. part of it is i have a very good memory. i can look at a knick knack and i remember who gave it to me and why they gave it to me. and then i feel immense guilt if i think about giving it away/throwing it away/donating it. as if that person may be hurt that i didn't hang onto whatever it was they gave me. it's not that i'm a spoiled princess and ungrateful for the thought. i very much am grateful to be the recipient of the gift. and most times i've gotten quite a bit of use out of the item it's just that it is now something that i have outgrown the use for. or else, i see something and think "well, i should get rid of X because i don't need it." but then i start thinking about how useful X item would be in Y situation. and then i keep it because otherwise if i have to buy whatever X is later down the line to do Y job then i'll be upset that i didn't keep the previous X item that i had. i grew up very very poor and so i can't stand to see something go to waste or waste my money.

in addition to having extreme issues parting with belongings i also have an extremely hard time passing up a deal. if i see something for 90% clearance at target i'll stock up, even if it's something like burnt orange pillar candles which i have no need for in the near, or even foreseeable, future. i keep a box of "gifts" in case i need to randomly give something to someone. all items that i got on massive clearance and i've stock piled. ugh. stock pile. that's a phrase that gives me the heebees, the geebees, shivers, and dry heaves all at the same time.

my dad used to get mad at my mom for "stock piling" food on the shelf we had in the basement. he'd get mad that she would squirrel away extra food. and in a way i did too. but i also remembered that day from my childhood. all the cabinets open. the fridge too. my mom crying because we had no food at all in the house and my siblings and i were hungry. something like that makes an impression on you. for me it instilled a deep fear of being hungry. or, of not having food. so when i see chef boy ardee on sale 10 for $10 i want to fill my cart with mini lasagna, spaghetti and meatballs, and beef raviolis because then maybe i'll feel safe.

when i go grocery shopping i'm so tempted to use my coupons and the sale ad to fill my cart. even though the cupboards at home are literally stuffed and nearly over flowing with food. fry tells me we have enough. that we have more than enough. that i don't need to buy so much. we're only two people. he reminds me we should work through what we have at home before we get new stuff because otherwise we will wind up throwing stuff away. i nearly threw a fit when he suggested i give some of my scooby gummies and fruit by the fruits to his friend's three year old kid (yeah, me throwing a fit over gummies is a WHOLE other issue in the realm of beckah & her dysfunctional relationship with food). in the end i did give 1/3 of my gummies away to fry's friend's kid, and another 1/3 to my friend april's little girl. but that took SO much of my will power and strength in order to do that. i know. it's ridiculous. and at the same time it filled me a bit with a sense of panic.

i decided today to sell some of my stuff on ebay. the stuff that maybe i can make a buck or two off of instead of donating. i was all set to donate it. but fry suggested we try selling it instead. some backpacks that are in excellent shape, it's just that i don't need them. seriously, how many backpacks does one adult REALLY need? in a way it was easier on me to decide to give them away than sell them. isn't that odd? and i know i have some furbies in the garage. those should sell on ebay too. maybe this will be another small forward step in recovery? cleaning and getting rid of stuff is empowering. but it's also SO scary for me. so very very scary. then again. didn't i just say i was ready for scary? that i am welcoming it with open arms and want to face the scary all on my own? well. i'm thinking maybe i shouldn't be completely on my own. maybe i do need some help. just a wee bit of emotional support from friends and family. i'm still resolved to quit therapy. or rather, bring my need for it to an end. but, that doesn't mean i can't lean a little on those who love me. showing weakness. asking for help. those are positive steps for me.

recap on my kayaking trip (july 8-11th)

the trip was challenging. i am NOT in anyway an outdoor kind of girl. even though i went to burning man, and would go again, SO not an outdoorsy girl. i like my running water. i like my pillow top mattress with the feather bed on top of it. my flush toilet. my snoogle. my ferrets. all those things that create my nice cushy life.

with that being said. i did have a blast on the trip in terms of the social aspect. it was really nice being around other people who have their own challenges with food. i was tempted to say "who have an eating disorder" and erased that to then write "who struggle with an eating disorder" however i don't want anyone to see just my illness when they see me. i want them to see ME first, and then later maybe my struggles. or, preferably, how i overcome my struggles.

before the trip i was freaking out. pretty hard core freaking the EFF out on the inside, and doing a fair amount of verbal freaking out. fry and i were discussing it one night after i found out after i was accepted for the trip and he said "you can always say no, hun." and i did think about it briefly, but going on the trip was kind of a weird dream come true for me. it was free for me, i just had to bring my clothes and personal stuff, but tent, food, transportation was all covered, which is HUGE for me in these difficult economic times. but, also, ever since my BFF from childhood went kayaking with her cousin way back in the day i've been curious about it.

so i pushed aside all my fears, packed up my bags, and went on the trip. what was the biggest struggle for me? honestly, and this may sound lame: battling the urge to over pack. i've discovered recently that i am a first rate pack rat. you know that tv show on a&e called hoarders? well, let's just say that i grew up learning from the best of them (my dad and brother SO could be on that show). and in therapy i've been working on getting over my need to hoard and save stuff. so when packing for the trip i wanted to put all kinds of stuff in my bag that wasn't on the list (an extra pair of shoes, a deck of cards, an extra t-shirt, extra socks....) and all that stuff adds up and pretty soon you're showing up in california with two ginormous suitcases and another two boxes of stuff mailed. oh, wait, that was when i went to burning man! my first proud moment was realizing that i stuck exactly to the list.

now that i've been back at home for two and a half weeks it all feels kind of fuzzy. i'm so glad i went. i feel very empowered and much stronger and better able to handle life and all it's surprises. i'm also feeling like i want to be done with therapy. i'm sick of being the sick girl. i hate having to take FMLA every week to leave for my therapy appointments. i actually talked with fry about it last night and he said he will help me with the nutrition part of it. for his bachelor's degree he majored in kinesiology with a minor in biology, his emphasis was corporate fitness. so, needless to say i'm living with a man who spent four years studying to help people with health, wellness, and fitness. well, i think his exact words were "i can give you a kick in the ass if you need it." the funny part about that is he is a first class hippie and the most non violent person on earth.

plan for nutrition and food support? check. as for the therapy visits? i see my therapist tomorrow night and i'm going to talk to her. i know that for therapists it has to be tough. if they do their job right then people get better and move on. which is great for the patient, not so great for the therapist. i'm kind of guessing my therapist is going to encourage me to not stop therapy just yet.

i spent so much of my early life waiting. and being afraid. and hanging back. i could run but instead i crawled, with fear, not daring to run. and now i just want to run. i want to test out my new self and see if i can handle all the challenges and obstacles and the every day bull shit that comes with living. see if i can do it without dousing my emotions with food. or starving myself so the pain of hunger is more cutting than any emotions i may be feeling. what would life be like to actually allow myself to experience emotions? scary. very very scary. but i think i'm ready for that.

poem- dance party

the following is a poem that i wrote while on my trip to the apostle islands to go kayaking on lake superior.

dance party

i wanted to pause that

moment, wrap it up tightly

for each of us to carry

back with us from our

campsite. snug it in between

our hairbrushes, sunscreen,

bug spray and water bottles.

a strong techno beat rolled

from the van’s speakers as

the twelve of us inside

bounced the vehicle moving

to the beat, energized by

struggles, victories, the water

and air and orange-pink-

red sunset. And then, as if

it had somehow been planned,

others appeared next to our

van arms in the air

feet moving bodies to the

beat. we were conscious

of energy and each other but

not self conscious of our-

selves, our bodies, our demons.

it was just a moment in the

woods of pure abandon and

joy as our group of strangers

found a common love in

the music and the feel of

our bodies moving in the night air

the last time you blogged was when?!

checking my blog i feel rather chagrined and fairly ashamed of the fact that it's been nearly six months since i've blogged. that's a whole half a year. sheesh. yes, there's a whole pile of shame and guilt that goes with that. then again. i tend to have massive piles of guilt and shame associated with a lot of things in my life. so, honestly, that is nothing new.

the past six months have been filled with lots of changes for me. most notably i met a WONDERFUL man that i am totally head over heels in love with. i did make him work hard for it too. it would be an understatement to say that i kept him at arm's length. it was more like arms length plus a dozen or so feet. but he persisted, and gave me my space at the same time, and now we're happily cohabiting with our eleven ferrets.

yes, eleven ferrets. see. i had eight. he had two when he met me. then after meeting me he picked up a third one, so 8+2+1=11. eleven ferrets also equals a fair amount of insanity at our house. there's also a fair amount of poop that goes along with eleven ferrets. but also lots of love, cuddles, dooking, and joy.

so what is this young man's name? well, if you befriend me on facebook you'll know cause we're listed as "in a relationship," or if you talk to me, text me, or stalk me (yes YOU, i saw you in the bushes last night! btw, pick up your PBR cans, we don't want that shit in our yard. please & thank you). but, for now, in blog world, i'll call him fry. i do sometimes call him that in person, and he is cool with that. so we'll see.

let's see. what else. um. i'm vitamin d insufficient. go me. supposed to be at 20 or above and mine is a single digit. and that digit is NOT a 9. but working on that. working on beating my eating disorder into submission. working on staying hydrated. just got back from a weekend trip to the apostle islands with a group from the emily program (where i go for my therapy). the trip was awesome. i'll post more about that along with the poem that i wrote as a result of the trip. um, also working on thesis. working on just in general getting my shit together. so. for now. i'm back to blogging. i've missed it terribly and hope that not ALL my blog readers have forgotten me.

lots of love,
beckah

nearly two years later

nearly two years after my surgery and it's time to take stock of what has happened since feburary 11th, 2008 when i went into HCMC and had gastric bypass.

on the one hand things have gone well. i've lost about 100 pounds, and pretty much kept it off. so that's a big win there. i haven't gotten pregnant, which is a big no-no in the first two years post surgery. i'm now able to eat just about anything in moderation (which is fricken AWESOME considering some people can never eat certain foods).

i'm still struggling with my eating disorder. it's pretty much put me off the map in so many ways. yeah. it sucks. and yeah. i'm dealing with it. on the upside, if there is one, of having an eating disorder, i'm on the mend. and i'm much better now than i was a year ago. i still have bad days where i binge. days where i eat little to nothing. but those are few and far in between. and i'm going forward and hoping to switch to a different type of therapy. i'm investigating EMDR. basically it's supposed to be a lot less painful than standard talk therapy.

this year i'm taking two days off work, the day of my surgery anniversary and the day after, to celebrate, reflect, and take some time for me. right now i'm not super psyched about it. i was dating someone who recently broke up with me saying "you need someone better than me. i'm not good enough for you and will never be." wtf is that supposed to mean? so i've had a bit of rage about this and i'm trying to work through it.

family and friends tell me i'll come out stronger on the other side. they tell me i'll be better in the end. that i'm always stronger. that the universe has some other plan for me. well, right now, i would like to give the universe the finger because i'm sick of it fucking with me. yup. i said it.

welcome 2010

i'm refusing to do resolutions this year. i'm starting to feel it's a good way to set yourself up for failure. instead of trying to do "big ticket" goals this year i'm going to strive each day to make the most of that day. to be true to myself. to be happier and more content with who i am at each given moment. maybe those are goals, maybe not. but watching jenn drive off today made me realize how blessed i am. to have the people in my life that love me and cherish me for who i am. and i need to have faith that they see in me something that i may not always fully see myself.