I took a bunch of pictures of the outside and was in awe. But as I walked up the gravel road to the inside of the bridge, my heart dropped. The inside of the bridge is covered with graffiti. There would have been nothing inspiring or romantic about those pictures. The inside of the bridge was just ugly. Ugly, abused, and neglected. So I didn’t take any pictures. I focused on the outside and then I just moved on.

I wish I would have taken a picture. I almost wish that I would have only taken pictures of the inside.

Because that’s what I do here.

The unattractive grimy interior? That’s what I show you all. I expose the things about me that I want to change – the doubt, the self-destruction, the pain. The parts of myself that I don’t want to admit to myself, more or less share. But I point it out. I call attention to it. I acknowledge what doesn’t need to be there and I scrub it off. The graffiti. The ugly words. The ugly pictures. The things that are just obtrusive and distract from the inherent beauty. Sometimes it takes multiple scrubbings (similar to the analogy of having to change the same flat tire over and over again). But I’m still scrubbing. I’m not giving up. I’m not letting my exterior hide my flawed interior. I’m working through it. I’m going to become all that I already am. It’s just gonna take a lot of elbow grease.

I am so thankful for my little blog. I am so thankful that I have a place to air and wash my dirty laundry – a place to help me realize who I am and challenge me to do what I need to do to be the best version of me. Somewhere to record my efforts at scrubbing out all the ugly.

I am still scrubbing. And every little bit will add up. I’ll get there, my friends.

The soundtrack for the weekend: French lessons. Enough said.

Say Enchanté to my partners in crime – Miranda and Lorrie.

Somehow we stumbled upon a New Orleans-Style Funeral Parade downtown. It was awesome.

And then? A biker rally. The girls are naturals.

Saturday morning, we did something that totally made my weekend. We went for a run. I ran on this little path between street-level and the river. I had a race with a barge. But I had to turn around. I ran 3.1, only stopping to climb the steps back up to street-level. My girls worked on C25K. (Week 2, right?)

Us after our runs. One day I’ll have a picture of the three of us that isn’t immediately after a workout.

There is a beautiful statue of Abraham Lincoln outside of the capitol that I was just fascinated with.

We could not have asked for more beautiful weather.

Sushi was consumed. Yummm sushi.

Hats were modeled.

Truffles were consumed.

It was pretty awesome. I just love those girls. Lack of sleep and all.

Today, I brought the long way home. I stopped and took a zillion pictures of an old covered bridge. I am so glad I took the time to stop.

So how was your long weekend?

Today’s irrational belief:

I’m lazy and I don’t do anything. All I do is lay on the couch and watch tv.

I really wanted to paint my nails. Because that will make me feel pretty and better and really doesn’t take that long. But I didn’t want to mess them up. I had a lot of things to do first.

Wait, I though. Lazy people don’t have a lot to do, do they?

So let’s talk about what this lazy chick did in one evening. In other words,

Today’s incompatible behaviors:

• I sat on the couch for an hour, snuggled with my husband, and watched last night’s Psych on DVR.
• I came home and wrote several blog posts.
• I made dinner.
• I put away like 5 loads of laundry. (I wish that was a joke.)
• I packed for a weekend with the girls.
• I made a killer (if depressing) mix cd.
• I showered – shave, hair wash, and all.
• I made a conscious decision not to exercise. Because I have a headache and because I ran out of time, not because I am lazy.

And then I painted my nails. A lovely shade of grey.

I hope looking at my nails will draw my own attention to what I do. For others, for me.

And remind me that the grey area is okay. It’s where I’m supposed to be right now. I can’t expect more of myself.

*written thursday night, posted on Saturday. Because I’ll be livin’ it up with my girls this weekend!*

Marie ran a killer race. And she is embracing the photos. I don’t know which inspires me more – her determination or her self-acceptance. Either way, she is awesome. I really hope that you’re reading her. She’s my buddy. And this post was just what I needed.

Lorrie is working C25K and has made it to Week 2! She wrote a post complete with before and after pictures. (Kinda reminded me of the before and after pics when FB and I got Shredded.) I love her after picture. Because we’ve all been there. The total exhaustion. With the “the only thing I want to do right now is stop moving!” feelings. Which are replaced a few minutes later by the “Did I just do that? Did I just do THAT?” feelings. I heart this girl. And I heart running. So I smile at her. A lot.

As much as I hate that she has them, I love reading about Prior Fat Girl’s self-described “tantrums.” I love that she allows herself to throw the tantrum, recovers, and then goes on with what needs to be done. (In this case, she needed to go for a run.) I’m not good at that. I keep the tantrum at bay. I sit just this side of throwing it and then I get exhausted and feel like I’m keeping something inside and nothing changes. So I’m taking a lesson from her. Deep breaths. Get it out. Go on as planned. Shut up. Lace up. Go run. Right?

Seattle Run Girl has had a few guest posts that I adore lately. (I love her as well, but I’m so thankful that she’s introducing me to people I don’t know.) She featured Chris from A Deliberate Life earlier this week. Chris wrote about her struggle with food on SRG. For the first time in my life, I can see the relationship  between my food issues and my emotions. As Chris says, dig it up. Face it. Fix it. And that’s what I’m doing. One hair straightener and pair of heels at a time. But then I checked out Chris’s for-real blog? Dude. I think we should be friends.

Oh! And I found another new blog that I’m really impressed with. I think grown-up university is the most brilliant idea EVER. So go welcome Leslie to the health-blog world and cheer her on!

I’ve been reading Greta for forever. Her whimsy and gentleness and seeing-the-beauty-in-everything-ness keeps me always in awe. Keeps me trying to see the beauty in every day. She’s keeping a facebook album of thank yous. A picture a day of what she is thankful for. A record of what is beautiful. What is inspiring. What she’s thankful for. And I’m taking a page from her book. Because it is the best idea I’ve heard in a while. You can see my pics so far here. (and hopefully it’s something I’ll keep up with!)

I’ll end this today with Amy Beth. I love this girl. She is like my Pioneer Woman. I want to be like her when I grow up. She just describes her life – the celebrations and the struggles – with a grace that I only hope I can present one day. I just love her. Because she says things like this:

“Here’s the thing about God forgetting you: He doesn’t. Please. We learned that in Sunday School.”

I’ve felt forgotten, my friends. Alone. And she reminds me that I’m not. Ever.

(oh? and go tell Amy Beth happy birthday!)

But rarely do I give myself the same opportunities, the same margin for error. I’m either good or bad. Fat or thin. Weak or strong. One or the other.

Earlier this year, I was in the best shape of my life. I ran a half-marathon. Yoga was starting to come easier. I felt strong and powerful and invincible. Although I was far from satisfied with how my body looked, I was so proud of what my body could do. Blown away, actually.

But then things happened. Some things within my control and some things way (way) out of my control. And here I am. Somewhere in the middle. Still able to run, but much slower and at a severely reduced distance. Yoga is hard. I don’t cross my legs as often or as easily. Although I’m in a much better place than I was 18 months ago, but I’m no where near where I was this spring.

Today’s irrational belief:

I am weak. I am not strong, so I must be weak.

That’s bull sh!t, my friends. BS.

Today’s (okay, last night’s) incompatible behaviors:

I ran. It might not have been long and it might not have been fast, but it felt good. I ran strong.

I yoga-ed. You would have thought I would have learned from Lynn’s #7daysofyoga challenge how much I love yoga. And how good it is for me, physically and emotionally. I did Hatha Yoga #3 and I loved it. As usual. And what she said while I was in gorilla pose really hit home for me. “surrender here. breathe here. notice if you’re waiting for what’s next. be present. be here. let go of waiting.”

I’m not waiting. I’m taking control. And I’m not weak.

If I were weak, could I have ran over a mile? Without stopping? In the heat and humidity that I have avoided all summer?

Nope.

If I were weak, could I have have held the yoga poses? Could I have maintained my balance and strength?

Nope.

Just because I’m not “as strong” does not mean that I am weak. I may have been stronger in the past, but I am still strong.

Shades of grey, right?

And I will be “as strong.” Because I’ll keep running and yoga-ing and lifting and letting Bob Harper whip me into shape. Maybe not every day, but I’m getting back there.

I am not weak. Don’t ever let me tell myself that ever again.

The same goes for you. You can’t say it to yourself either. Not anymore.

I had a really hard evening. I got on the scale on the Wii. I was not happy. It wasn’t pretty. I also caught myself saying a lot of things to myself that I shouldn’t say.  Things I would not say about a friend. Things I would not tolerate a friend saying to me. And I’m challenging them. Daily.

Today’s irrational statement:
I’m hideous. (Sad, but true my friends.)

Did I ever actually believe that I was hideous? Unfortunately. Maybe. Briefly. When I was on the scale last night. When I put on my favorite dress and realized I couldn’t wear it to work yesterday. I knew I could not allow myself to think this way. I knew I had to change it. (Wow. I really didn’t want to admit that.)

Today’s incompatible behavior:
I straightened my hair.

It may not sound like much, but it’s a big step for me. It takes a nice chunk of time. About 40 minutes. (I have a lot of hair.) This is the third time I’ve straightened my hair since the miscarriage. I used to straighten my hair daily. But I’d stopped putting that time and effort into myself. I was content to put my hair in a curly messy ponytail or bun. I was content to do the minimal necessary to be presentable.

I have been content to sleep the extra half hour or lay on the couch in the evening. I was content to not put effort into myself. Effort I deserve. Not because I want to impress anyone else. Not because I want people to see my straight hair. But because I feel different when my hair is straight. I feel like me.

There’s just something about straightening my hair that changes me. I feel pretty when I straighten my hair. I never regret the time I spent making myself feel pretty. In fact, I feel a little bit proud that I took the time to do something for me. I feel like myself. I feel put-together. I feel pretty.

So “I’m hideous” and “I’m pretty” cannot exist together. They are mutually exclusive. And I feel pretty.

I’m choosing to feel pretty.

Because I chose to straighten my hair.

It’s amazing how such a small task can totally change my outlook on a day.

And today it totally did.

So…what did you do for yourself today?

So you have a few days where you’re really focused. You eat according to plan. You run. You kick it. And then you totally sabotage yourself and eat handfuls of peanut m&ms and Indian food for lunch, right?

*hangs her head in shame*

Yup, ladies and gents. I’m right back there in that cycle.

And I don’t know how to stop it.

But the important thing is that I keep trying, right?

Right. *firm head nod*

(pity party officially over.)

So I’ve been thinking a lot about therapy. ThingsI learned about in my therapist training. Things I used to give other people to help them find their way out of funks. And I’m working on a plan. A treatment plan. For myself. Because I’m fed up. I’m tired of this loop.

And I’m tired of coming here and telling you all about it over and over.

But I do. Because I’m honest. And because I love y’all. Because I know I’m not alone.

My self-imposed and self-administered therapy starts today. And my homework starts here.

I’ve been thinking about the link between beliefs and behaviors. How they play off each other. How they influence each other. How, at different times, one may be easier to get a grip on than the other.

I think, in my current place, behaviors have a lot of influence over my beliefs. When I’m “being healthy” (for lack of a better term) my beliefs are more rational. The thoughts I have about myself make more sense and are closer to reality. But when my motivation wanes, the irrational beliefs show right back up. And then the beliefs make me want to curl up on the couch and just shut out the world. And that’s usually what I do.

I don’t know how to stop this.

But I do know what makes me feel better. In the moment. On a small, manageable scale. Behaviors – choices – that may or not be “healthy” behaviors, but aren’t unhealthy. Little things that create that sense of confidence. Importance. Achievement. Beauty. Behaviors that make that little voice inside me yell, “Krissie! You rock!” Behaviors that are incompatible to my irrational beliefs. And my promise to you is that I’m going to make these little choices. These little awesomeness-confirmation behaviors. And I’m going to share them with you.

And I’m going to challenge you to think about what those little behaviors are for you too. And then do them.

The next few days are going to be fun.

(and maybe a little girly)

Yesterday was not one of them. It was a really bittersweet day. I spent the day with my parents, grandmother, brother, sister-in-law and niece. We were shopping for a dress for the niece for my cousin’s wedding in October.

That means me. Spending a lot of time. Holding a baby. Around a lot of baby clothes.

That was fine. Fun, actually.

Mostly.

But in the back of my mind, all I could think about was the newborn clothes. How cute little outfits would look on a little Nathan. On a little red-headed baby.

I kept thinking how I should be shopping for clothes for a newborn to wear at Christmas time.  How I should be more than halfway through a pregnancy. How I should be showing. We’d have a date set for a shower.

By now, we would have a nursery planned out. We would have read a lot of books. We would be making plans. What length of time we’d be able to take off work. We would know if I was due right before or right after Christmas. There would be excitement about another baby at Christmas. A very little baby at Christmas. Or the promise of a baby very shortly thereafter.

We would know the gender.

We would have narrowed down our favorites. We would have a name.

Bruen or Liam or Carrick or Jack.

Lauren or Fiona or Evelyn or Moira.

But we don’t have any of that.

Most days, I’m okay with that. But last night I cried myself to sleep. And I have that cry-hangover-feeling today as a reminder. And that makes it a little hard for me to distract myself today.

So, yeah. Most days are okay.

Here’s hoping tomorrow is more like most days.

I know I’ve mentioned her several times before, but MorganDayCecil? Her series on “The Land Between” rocked my socks off. Really made me think. Helped me accept that I am where I am. It doesn’t matter why I’m in this emotional space. It doesn’t matter when I’ll get out of it. What matters is what I do with it. And it’s okay for me to collapse here sometimes. I loved these posts.

And then I sent the like to MDC to Petites Joies as well. Because she’s in a similar space. And because I want to help her. And I don’t know how. And that made me feel all warm and fuzzy for you guys, because you reached out to me when I was in the saddest places. I’m sure she’s love some support as well.

Stephanie Snowe wrote about family and friends who have lost children. About Childless Moms. About how Gabe matters. And I sat at my desk and cried. I, too, wish I could take the power away from “this day.” For me, “this day” is every Thursday. I have to look at a calendar to see the date that I lost Gnomie, but I will always know that it was a Thursday. And I don’t know if or when I’ll ever have a Thursday where she isn’t my first thought.

I’ve continued to carry around a lot of guilt about my weight, about how I let my health suffer during my miscarriage and (emotional and physical) recovery. But then Roni tweeted this wonderful post by KCLAnderson. I really like the conversation about doing what works and not judging others for doing what works for them. But it’s the end of the post that really impacted me. “One of the hardest lessons to learn is that we can know something but not be able to live it.” This summer, I was unable to continue my weight loss efforts. Mentally and physically. I got it back together when I was able. And then I floundered around a little bit. But realizing that I was really unable for a while has helped me not take able for granted, has given me comfort for that time and accountability for the present. Because I am able now. And I’m moving on.

Jamie at Embracing Balance wrote about her snug jeans. I wanted to yell, “I know how you feel friend!” And reading her plan to change things was adorable and empowering. She’s becoming “Planny Plannerton.” She also inspired me to go back to taking pictures of my food because it helps me focus. When I take the time to put my food on a pretty plate, arrange it nicely, and make sure it’s really what I want. I’m also so much more aware of my portions when I’m putting it out there for the world to see.

I loved Tara’s guest post on SeattleRunGirl about not giving up. It’s easy to get down on myself sometimes, to think that I can’t do it, to think that it’s not worth all the work. But it is. And I can. And I needed this peptalk.

This has turned into something I really love to do. I keep track of blogs I love in my little moleskine journal as I come across them, and then I mention the highlights of those to you all. I love it.

Any posts you are inspired by? I’d love to have some new blogs to read? Wanna toot your own horn? That’s what the comments are for!

Have a great (rest of the) weekend!

Why? Because I spent my evening in the kitchen.

Cabbage rolls and corn spoonbread. (Links to go my food blog!)

And now it’s time to run!