Surviving is not Living

Archive for the ‘Fear’ Category

Conquering Fear

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I know what it is to be afraid.  Fear has been an anchor in my life for as long as I can remember.

The high dive at the local swimming pool. The bumps and creaks in the night. Being outdoors and worrying about stings and bites and poisonous plants. Revealing a crush to a boy. Leaving the country for the first time. Getting on a plane for the first time.

As I got older, life happened and I saw fear reveal itself so much stronger and bigger than it had before.

The loss of my son that made me afraid to ever try being a mother again.

I remember before it happened to me, I thought that was the worst thing that could ever happen to someone, to be a parent and lose a child. I was right.

And a close second to that fear, came the one of losing your partner, a significant other in your life. I heard stories of young couples losing their spouse, or their girl/boy friend. A couple years back, two different couples I know of said goodbye to their partners near Christmas. Both very young and relatively new in their marriages. I had never had a serious relationship to where that fear was as close to my heart as it could be, but I knew that the loss must be a devastating one.

I posted before about Jennie losing her husband suddenly. As I am now in the midst of the most amazing relationship, that fear has hit me hard for the first time. I found her blog and her story around the same time we were waiting on results from my man’s biopsy.  I sat in fear every day, waiting for the results, and pissed that after all this time and finally discovering this amazing man, that he might be taken away from me. I was so afraid.  More afraid of losing him to cancer than I had been to losing him because I wasn’t good enough.

Thankfully there was no cancer.

I look at Jennie’s blog nearly every day. It would be easy to avoid it so that I didn’t have the thoughts in my head about losing my love.  And I know many women who try to avoid stories of miscarriage and stillbirth so as to not have those thoughts in their head while they’re pregnant. I know how I felt after losing my son, like I was the dark shadow in the corner reminding them what could happen. I felt contagious. Shame.

It’s easy to be afraid. Have you watched television lately? Everything seems to be telling us to be afraid.

But I just don’t want to live in fear of “what if” anymore.

I can’t control whether I’m ever going to lose a child again. I can’t control if other loved ones are going to die. I can’t make the world into the perfect world I’d like to live in.

So instead, I choose to live life well. I choose to make the most of the people I have in my life, while I have them. I choose to love instead of hate, and be filled with joy and optimism instead of negativity. I choose to make decisions that will make my life amazing, instead of worrying what might happen if I take a risk.

I will pour myself into my relationships, with my man, my friends, my family. I will go after projects that I don’t think I’m good enough for. I will write and blog consistently, knowing some will be good and some won’t. I will run. I will chase health and life. I will talk to strangers.

I will live. Without Fear. Because any other way just isn’t good enough.



Written by No More Tomorrows

September 26, 2011 at 11:01 am

Posted in Fear, Inspiration, Writing


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September 15th Weigh In



-25 lost to date

Dance Baby, Dance!!

Hello little blog of mine, I didn’t forget you. You aren’t abandoned. I was sick last week, and down, and busy, and don’t have internet at my house and try not to be on my phone when I’m home so that I can show my Man that he’s important to me and give him my attention.

I have a lot of excuses. Some legitimate, but also, I slacked. I just was really in a funk and couldn’t get myself to concentrate long enough to write anything. I hope you’re all still around. I enjoy talking to you, even if it often feels like a one-sided conversation. That’s not a cry for comments (okay maybe a little) but really, I do enjoy blogging and getting my words out there. I have a desire to matter, to leave something behind, to pass on knowledge, to encourage others the way I have been encouraged. I’m a big believer in paying it forward. I think our world would be so much better if everyone felt the same way.

Speaking of leaving something behind, I was listening to Beyonce on Pandora this morning and her song “I Was Here” came on. I thought of me, and the rest of the blog world. Isn’t that at least one reason we do it? To leave something behind? Because we’re worried about being forgotten when our time on this earth ends? So we leave behind something for our great grand children to know us by (Will they have internet then?).

I feel like I’m at a crossroads right now in my life. They happen. It’s the point in which you grow, if you make the right choices. Truly though I don’t know if there are as many “wrong” choices as we tend to think. People hesitate to make a choice a lot of the time because they’re afraid they’ll make the wrong one. The wrong choice is just not making a choice at all. Don’t be stagnant, MOVE FORWARD. If the choice you made wasn’t the best one, then make a different one when things don’t work out. There’s not a magic point in our lives when we choose the “right ” thing and then life begins. Life is happening NOW, so grab it by the balls and go.

Just sayin’

I struggle with consistency, with finishing things. Maybe I’m lazy, maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s doubt. I don’t really know. But I give up easily. It is time to focus my energy on being consistent, on sticking with something no matter how difficult it gets, until I’ve accomplished it. Relationships, running, weight loss, plant based eating, self employment, etc.

A fabulous life is mine for the taking. Yours too. And we have nobody but ourselves to blame if we lose out on something because we didn’t keep swimming.

Keep swimming.

Written by No More Tomorrows

September 20, 2011 at 9:45 am

Fed Up!

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I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I’m tired…

…of being uncomfortable in my clothes, pulling down my shirt, pulling up my pants, grabbing and twisting and turning just to make sure all the fat stays as covered as possible.

…of walking into a clothing store, having limited options, and not fitting into the cute styles I want to wear.

…of feeling like pulling away or shifting and moving so that my boyfriend doesn’t touch the love handles when he hugs and cuddles me.

…of being the fattest person in the room the majority of the time.

…of letting fear run my life.

…of being judged by my fat first before I’ve had a chance to show who I am.

…of not getting the roles I wanted in shows because my looks trumped my talents.

…of not fitting in some booths, chairs, airplane seats, or my boyfriend’s car without being really uncomfortable.

…of worrying about the judgments others are making when I’m grocery shopping or eating in public.

…of being in constant pain because of the pressure that 300 pounds puts on my body.

…of not respecting my body.

…of not living the best possible life that I can.

…of being controlled by my cravings and desires and letting my lower self run my life.

…of talking a really good talk, and not following up with action.

Tired. So very tired.

Written by No More Tomorrows

August 12, 2011 at 10:28 am

Posted in Fear, Weight Loss

An Open Letter to My Body:

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We need to talk.

First, let me be the one to say I’m sorry. Although it’s never easy, I do recognize when I’ve been wrong, and I will always take responsibility for it. I haven’t treated you very kindly. I’ve filled you with lots of chemicals and crap that I called food. I know it hurt you. I never consulted you to ask you what you wanted. I just loaded you up with the garbage I wanted. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t consider you. Most of my decisions were mindless, quick, and convenient. I was only thinking of the high of instant gratification. For the many years of abuse I have subjected you to, I am truly sorry.

Now, about you.

I know that I have not been nice to you, so perhaps the way you act is revenge. I get it. But seriously. Please stop.

The Back Pain.

I know. Breasts, Obesity, and Epidurals. They are a lethal mix for you my dear back. The epidural I can’t do anything about, it already happened. But I promise never again. The obesity, I’m getting it in check. It will be gone. Just give me a year. The breasts, well, those I hope to have go away with the obesity, but if not, I will consider the knife, after many consultations.

The Girly Issues.

Between the low thyroid (which isn’t a girly issue but can contribute to girly issues) and the PCOS, you make me very frustrated. I can’t regulate temperatures very well, the hair, the irregular times of the month, the mood swings, and the constant fear of infertility and cancer in my girly bits combine to put me on the edge. Again, the obesity is partly to blame, and I’m handling it, but if you could do me a favor and heal yourself, I’d really appreciate it.

The Ultimate Letdown.

Now, the biggest issue. I trusted you. You’re female. You’re supposed to have babies, without struggle, without failing. It’s what you were designed to do. And you let me down. Major. I’ve been angry at you for awhile, and maybe that’s why I continue to abuse you, because I’m trying to pay you back. But that isn’t helping either of us. I continue to abuse you, and you continue to break down. I can’t fight you anymore. I’m letting go of being angry with you, and I’m going to do my part to treat you better, if you could just return the favor and start operating like a normal, healthy female body should. I’d like to stop worrying about my health. Get yourself prepared for babies, because someday again I’ll be expecting them.

I’ll do my part. But you have to do yours too.

Written by No More Tomorrows

August 3, 2011 at 1:31 pm

Posted in Fear, Health, Weight Loss

Hurts So Good

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I’m sitting here and my head is pounding, and has been for nearly 24 hours. I’m wondering if I really did get overheated yesterday. I can’t seem to kick it. Watering myself a lot, and hoping it passes.

Also, my entire body hurts, from my head to my toes, and the worst is in my left heel. I’ve gotten a lot of advice for stretching it out and making it feel better, so I’m gonna try all that and hope it works, because tomorrow is my restart day for C25K training.  I got motivated to get back in it after this.

I DID MY FIRST (unofficial) 5K!!!!!!!!!!

After arriving at the park, getting myself unofficially officially signed in for the first official unofficial Do Life Tour in Denver, taking the group picture and hearing Ben talk a little bit, we set off. Here’s a recap:

Half a mile in:  Hey Carrie, I bet you wish you would have kept up that training now, dontcha. (Apparently my inner voice sounds like Sarah Palin. Figures)

One mile: Okay seriously, nobody expects the fat girl to finish. One mile is good. Just stop. STOP NOW. It’s okay, it’s hot. You tried. Just go sit in the shade.

One and a half: You just got lapped. Everybody is going to be waiting on you. Stop at 2 miles. You haven’t done two miles of anything since you were little. That’s an accomplishment. Stick with that. It’s okay.

Two miles: People are waiting. People are waiting. People are waiting.

Two and a half: Give up. Give up. Give up. Give up.

It was at this point I had finished the water I had brought, I was sweating like  a behemoth, my head was pounding and I was so freaking hot. I truly considered being done at this point. It was the one point where I almost let the bitch win (that’s the term of endearment for my inner voice), and I decided I would give in. But then I realized the only way back was through the grass, which meant bugs, because it was humid and the bugs were everywhere (or I believed they were) and I’m a princess and hate bugs, so I was NOT about to walk through the grass, and I also reminded myself that that route wouldn’t have been much shorter than just finishing it. Then a man came by selling bottled water and told me it was on the house and gave me it. So… I decided all in all, I was just going to finish what I started, for once in my life. In fact, I got such a renewed burst of inspiration I almost considered wogging (more than a walk, less than a jog, that’s about all I can do yet) and then I decided I shouldn’t be ridiculous and just kept walking.

Three miles: LET’S DO IT AGAIN!

By this time the bitch had stopped talking. That was actually my own crazy thoughts.

I finished a 5K.

I walked it all.

But I finished a 5K.

In absurd heat.

I know it could have been hotter, but it was hot enough.

I finished.


This girl right here, who is notorious for quitting EVERYTHING that requires actual hard work, who walks away when things aren’t easy, who gives up on herself all the time.

I finished.

A couple hours later as I was standing in the glorious shower, never wanting to leave, it hit me. It really really hit me.

I just did a 5K.

And I cried.









Written by No More Tomorrows

July 18, 2011 at 10:00 am

Battling On

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After such a hard post from yesterday I came in here to do a funny or mindless post.  Fail.

Last night I was watching the latest DVRed episode of Celebrity Rehab 5 (Yes I’m admitting it’s a guilty pleasure) and Sean Young was talking. She mentioned alcohol, and said it felt like an old friend, that it was always there, that she could turn to it, and she was afraid to say goodbye to it and not have it in her life. (I’m paraphrasing).

Did anyone else identify with that?  I do. Only, not with alcohol.

Today I went downstairs, and what I returned with was


And now I feel sick.

What redeeming value is there in any of that?


Some people self-medicate with a needle in their arm, a snort of something up their nose, a crackpipe, pills or too many shots.

Others of us do it with sugar and refined carbs.

Our destruction is legal, but it’s just as destructive. It triggers the same “happy place”. A vice is a vice is a vice.

But with those of us whose struggle is food, well… we need to eat. It’s a necessity in life, so we have to figure out how to stop battling with it.  A heroine addict, to stay clean, can avoid the drug houses, cut off those friendships, etc. I’m not saying it’s easy to give up the drugs, I’m not that insensitive, but it’s different.

What is the answer when we’re invited out to dinner and have so many trigger foods to choose from, or when we walk by 50 different places each day that can provide us our fix, when marketing is all about the things we’re poisoning our bodies with?  What then?

My drug of choice is legal. I can get it anywhere I want and there’s no age limit, no law against it, nothing stopping me.  But me.

I have to stop me.

And if only it was that simple.

Written by No More Tomorrows

July 12, 2011 at 2:51 pm

Posted in Fear, Health

Strength in All Things

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I have doubted myself and what I can accomplish and get through for a long time. I have thought I was weak for a long time. I still do. I think about losing 180 pounds and it seems like such a big task, something I am not strong enough for.

And then I remember what I survived.

“To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling

This is…

How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive”

Natalie Grant – “Held”


I was single, unmarried, working part time and struggling to pay my own bills and put food in my own mouth, let alone two mouths. He was a product of lust, not love, something I never planned to have happen. It wasn’t my dream. It wasn’t ideal. But from the moment I found out that this life lived inside of me, he is all I wanted. I knew I would struggle, that we wouldn’t have an easy life, but all that mattered was this baby. I knew that no matter what happened from then on out, he would always come first, and I would make whatever sacrifice necessary to provide him the best life I could. I also believed that his father would do his best also, and that although we wouldn’t raise him together, that we would both do our best to raise him well. I’ve come to find out I was right about that. Sometimes that makes the pain that much worse, to know there are so many children whose parents spend more time fighting each other than loving their children, and then to know my son would have had all the love in the world from two parents, that although they didn’t love each other, respected each other and would have provided a peaceful and respectful atmosphere for him to grow up in.

I had plans, and dreams, and hopes. I dreamt the biggest dreams for him, and for my life also. All of a sudden I realized I needed to be the best mom he could have. I made goals to be healthy, to finish school, to get a good job that could provide for him and be stable. I planned. I dreamt. I hoped.

And on the afternoon of Wednesday November 5, 2008, around 1:30 in the afternoon, they were murdered. And I felt like I died right along with them.  I heard the words that no woman ever wants to hear.

There’s no heartbeat.

I didn’t need to hear the words, at least not really. Maybe I needed them just so that what I already saw was real, but I saw the ultrasound, I saw my son not moving. I heard the silence. Over the 40 weeks I had gotten used to what his beating heart looked like on screen. I had learned the difference between the swooshing of the ultrasound or heart monitor and his heartbeat. I knew what I was seeing when I looked at the ultrasound screen and didn’t see the movement that looked like the flickering of a light. He was gone.

Have you ever had the wind knocked out of you? Been hit in the gut?  It was like that, only not. It was a million times worse. It’s something I can’t really describe to you in a way you’d understand unless it’s happened to you, and if it hasn’t, I pray it never does.  My world stopped. I remember bringing my hands to my face to try not to scream as tears built up and spilled over. I held my breath and cried quietly, my body shaking, gasping to breathe, but trying not to make noise. I had two doctors in with me, they handed me Kleenex. I held my hands and the Kleenex over my face. (Even in a moment like that I was still worried about being seen doing the ugly cry. I really hate crying in front of people.)

I’m so sorry. Carrie I’m sorry.

They just kept repeating it. I guess even doctors, who I’m sure have seen it happen before, don’t know what to say in a moment like that. I remember watching Dr. Montgomery on Grey’s Anatomy breaking down when she had to tell a couple that their baby was dead. As critical as I can often be of doctors and the medical field in general, they do have hearts, and no matter how many times you deliver bad news, I can’t imagine it’s ever easy.

They asked me who they could call and I couldn’t even focus enough to answer. They said that Stacy was listed as the person to call in my file and I nodded when they asked if that’s who I wanted to call. They both left and I got off the table to get my purse and get my phone. My legs shook and I sat in the chair. As if on autopilot I started making phone calls. I called my boss at the time, who was a friend also. She sent someone to be with me since she couldn’t. Stacy also showed up.

My mind raced. It was like I was in a daze, but the thoughts still came.  What do I do now? What do I do with the baby stuff? How do I deal with this?  I need to breathe.  But how?

November 7 I met my beautiful son, and just as quickly as I finally got to say hello, I had to say goodbye. It is the hardest thing that I have ever lived through. It is a road I travel every day, a little bit further, a little bit easier. I have learned to live in a world where my son never got to. I have survived what would probably be every parent’s greatest fear. I am strong.

So why do I forget that so often?

Written by No More Tomorrows

July 11, 2011 at 3:46 pm

Posted in Baby Loss, Fear, Grief, Stories