The wheels are up... *Project: Veganism* has officially taken flight!

Today marks my 4th consecutive 100% vegan day.  I have been more or less at it for the better part of 2 weeks, but I had some chicken I was working my way through as I didn't want to waste it and throw it away.  

I wanted to get some initial thoughts on paper now as I am curious to monitor how my body responds to this experiment, but also because (based on previous experience) it is easy to forget very quickly what life was like during a period of change.  I want to "time capsule" these next couple weeks to document what the transition to veganism is like.  So, without further adieu....

Issues I'm Looking Forward to Monitoring

I have some health items I am curious to track to see if a plant-based diet can address.  First is the tumor in my breast.  It is benign (a hamartoma), but I'm curious to see if it might shrink.  The second is a minor dry skin condition that kinda nags at me.  I am suspicious that this might be connected to my third issue, which is that I have bouts of systemic candida.  This is most evidenced when I drink alcohol, but I know its there regardless.  And I've heard the dermatitis I have is often times associated with candida problems.  Also related to candida -- and something I am most interested to track -- is my Hashimoto's Syndrome, a thyroid auto-immune disease.  It is rumored that diet can reverse this syndrome, especially when caught early.  And I am in the early indicators phase.  So, I will be tracking those things along my journey.

Observations

Thus far, even after just a couple weeks of 95-100% veganism, I can say that my energy levels are off the charts.  I literally am bouncing around like I'm over-caffeinated all day long; except I'm not.  It's actually quite ridiculous, I feel sorry for anyone who has to be around me because I can't calm down ;)

I seem to be recovering from workouts better, too.  I have stepped my training up a significant notch, but my muscles bounce back from failure after only about 36 hours now (sometimes it could take upwards of 3-4 days for me to recover).  I am supplementing with a little left over glutamine I have here at the house, but otherwise, I rely solely on a diversity of plants to obtain my aminos.

I am also now 3 months completely off of birth control, and I do not intend to ever put my poor body on synthetic hormones ever again.  They served their purpose when I was younger and had AWFUL cycles with PMS I could not handle (fatigue, pain, headaches, etc).  But now I'm old enough to just deal with it.  I'm allowing my body to do 100% naturally what it wants to do; I'm just supplying it with as many nutrients as possible.

Current Supplements

Daily, I take an odorless garlic supplement, a Whole Foods general "Immune Support" herbal blend, a B-12 supplement, probiotics, a glutamine tab (because I have a bottle in my house still that I need to work through), and an enzyme support blend to help in digesting and absorbing the plants I'm eating (particularly the raw ones).  I've been reading up and have learned that over time, after switching to a plant-based diet, your body will slowly evolve to be able to handle a greater influx of cellulose-containing food stuffs.  As of right now, I do need the assistance of an extra cellulase enzyme boost to assist in the dirty work ;)

Other changes include using plant-based soaps and shampoos (just for the fun of it), I drink about 80-100 fl oz of water a day, and I take my coffee black -- I am about 75% of the way there to actually enjoying it! And I shop exclusively at Whole Foods because the labels are easy for me to determine that the foods I am buying are organic, fair trade and non-GMO.  If I am going to go all out with this diet/lifestyle experiment, I want to do it right,  And I'm willing to pay for it, so long as the means last.

Training

In terms of training, I have switched to HIIT cardio and a lot of circuit training with my PT dudes. This varies from the steady state cardio I have been doing (albeit at an intense level!), and a lifting schedule that included designating specific days for specific muscle groups.

Current Diet
The following is my current diet (for purposes of record keeping, of course :))

Breakfast
2 servings of [fortified] oatmeal
1 tbsp hemp hearts
1 tbsp chia seeds
1/2 cup organic plain soymilk
1 cup black coffee

Lunch
Green Protein Smoothie! Currently this contains about 2 cups of spinach, 1 cup of kale, 1 cup of green grapes, 1/4 avocado, 1 kiwi, the juice from 1/2 a lemon, 1/2 green apple, 4-6 frozen broccoli florets, 1/2 cup peas, and a scoop of Plant Fusion protein powder.

Snacks
1/2 cup of black beans, 1/4 cup of mixed nuts, and a NuGo vegan non-GMO protein bar (currently in Mint Chocolate flavor).

Dinner
As of right now I am eating homemade baked falafel and toum sauce with a romaine lettuce and tomato side salad dressed with a mixture of fresh lemon juice, olive oil, salt, pepper, and minced garlic.

One of these days I'll get around to calculating the totals of what I'm eating, but these certainly do keep me full! :)

An Update on "Clementine", the Mass in my Breast

I've been monitoring the stats of my blog, and I've noticed that 2 of my most highly viewed entries have been those in which I discussed the time I went in for a routine women's wellness exam 6 months ago and found out I had a lump in my breast.

On the chance that those entries have been viewed so many times because women are seeking insights into their own personal circumstances, I've decided to give an update on this mass (which I have ever so affectionately named "Clementine", because it seems to be about the same size as a Clementine Cutie tangerine!)

As a recap, when the lump was first felt by my OB/GYN, she seemed stoic and said it felt like a cyst.  Nonetheless, she sent me in immediately for a diagnostic ultrasound at a local center that specializes in breast abnormalities. Given that I was only 28 and felt perfectly healthy, it came as an absolute shock to know that a foreign body growing within me.  This could NOT be happening, not to me!  But there I was, sitting in the waiting room a couple days later, seeing middle-aged women coming and going, some crying, some cheerful, some light-hearted and happy and well-versed with the process, others clearly scared completely out of their minds.  Even still, I thought I was emotionally under control for the procedure having had 3 or 4 days to research and poke and prod and come to my own mental conclusions, all up until they spread the lubricant on my breast and began pressing down with the wand.  That's when it became overwhelmingly real, and I lost it.  Tears streamed down my cheeks as the radiologist seemed to take all eternity to measure and analyze the mass.  I'll never forget the chilling realization I made as I laid on that table; that the answer was not leaping out at the doctor, that he was having to use his brain and his experience to see just what the hell this mass was.  It didn't scream, "CANCER!" to him, but it didn't scream cyst, either.  The doctor tried to explain to me what he *thought* it was. He mumbo-jumbo'd some jargon or something to me, but he might as well have been speaking in Sanskrit because I couldn't hear anything he was saying.  My mind was so preoccupied with hearing the word Cancer or Benign that I literally could not process anything else coming out of his mouth.  When he looked into my eyes and saw them filled with tears, I think he understood.  He stopped what he was saying and said, "I think you're fine.  This type of tumor would be benign."  It took me a couple days to get my wits about me and call back for my official preliminary diagnosis: a Hamartoma of the Breast.

I nonetheless scheduled a 6-month follow-up diagnostic ultrasound, and the ensuing 6 months were composed of 3 months of denial and 3 solid months of religiously examining my breasts after each period for signs of change, as instructed.  I noticed the mass would get incredibly large just before my period - so large, in fact, that I could visibly see one breast fuller than the other.  Otherwise, it returned to it's "normal size".

So when I went in to have my follow up 3 days ago, I went in with cautious confidence.  I was comfortable with thinking this was, in fact, just a benign hamartoma.  After all, the substance of the mass did truly feel like all the tissue around it, which may be why it was never detected before, but I can't say for certain.  So there I was on that damned table again, hot lube all over me, but this time I had a calm, judicious thinking cap on.  Unlike the last exam where I stared at a wall and sobbed for the duration of the exam, this time I watched with genuine curiosity.  My doctor showed me everything on the monitor, showed me colorful density maps and compared them to surrounding normal tissue to show that the mass was indeed composed of normal tissue, but that it was encapsulated.  

The above is not a picture of my ultrasound, but it looks similar.  The top of the photo, with sort of wavy lumps, looks kind of like my mass, except that on the image to the right, where you see the dashed line at the top between two letters (A and A), mine is so long that it goes beyond the boarders of the screen.  It is also about twice as thick as the image seen on the left of the screen between the two letters B and B.  But it looks exactly the same as the tissue surrounding it, with a thin, clearly defined encapsulation around it.  The straight line at the base of the image is a rib, with pectoral muscle just above it.

The problem was, it has grown in size since I was last checked.  By 4/10ths of a centimenter or something or other.  My doctor didn't seem overwhelmingly alarmed.  He advised me just to wait another 6 months for another scan.  He told me he sees these things all the time, and with ultrasound technology the way it has evolved, he can guarantee the reading with 98% accuracy.  

But what about those remaining 2% odds?

Doc said he had no problem ordering a biopsy, it's quick and super simple and it would certainly tell us for certain what is going on.  But there was a downside to that, which I'm not sure what it was -- perhaps it was that even the minor invasivity of a biopsy could create scar tissue or some such thing.  I will seek counsel from my OB/GYN and primary physician on their opinions, but I believe I will go forward with a biopsy, if anything other than to chronicle it as an experience that I can describe for fellow readers out there who happen upon my blog searching for advice or stories.

So, that's it for the update this time.  I will check in on this topic once I have a chance to speak to my physicians.

In other news, I am SO PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE that I am back on track with my progress and have achieved the same stats I had prior to leaving the country for a month! And I am fully on track to achieve more progress by year's end, and am thinking of running another half marathon on New Year's Day, and then push to lean out as much as possible and then book a professional progress photo shoot to celebrate my ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY on January 30th of next year!!  

Many exciting things to be grateful for in my life, yes siree :) <3

And then the doctor confirms you have a tumor in your breast.

"Anything is possible.  You can be told you have a 90% chance or a 50% chance or a 1% chance, but you have to believe, and you have to fight." -- Lance Armstrong

Yesterday I woke up at 4:45am.  I put on some flip flops and a bikini, drove to the beach, and walked to the sand barefoot into the crisp chill of a foggy summer morning.  It was dawn, but I couldn't see the sun; it was enveloped in a thick marine layer.  The air smelled particularly salty, with the faint smell of decomposing seaweed that had washed up from the California kelp beds not too far off shore.  I stood on top of a man-made dune just before it dropped down to the shoreline and paused for a moment.  Then I set the timer on my watch, and began running due south.

I set out on a 10k in the deep sands of Santa Monica that I normally reserve for my Friday evening cardio workout.  I love this run, but I only do it once a week to prevent getting bored of it as it is an incredible cross-training workout. I finished in 1:19:36 (a solid finish), having burned about 835 kcal in the process.

When I was done, I stood for a moment at Lifeguard Tower #26 and looked out to the great Pacific ocean, hoping for some profound thought or deafening clarity to overcome me.  Instead, all I found was  my lower lip trembling and my eyes wanting to cry, but my body being too exhausted to even put the effort into expressing emotion.  I wasn't exhausted physically, persay; I rather was exhausted from constantly being emotional about the medical exam I had coming up later that day.  It was the day of my ultrasound to figure out what that lump in my breast was, and while most of me was convinced I was fine, there was a strong presence within my very soul that felt like yesterday was the day I was going to wake up and then kill time before learning whether or not I had cancer.

How did this happen?  Not six days ago, I was a normal 20-something year old who was focused on increasing the amount of weight in my next face-off with the Seated Row machine.  Breast cancer was nowhere on my radar - I mean, possibly in the future, anything can happen.  But now?  No way.  But last Thursday,  during my pap smear, there my doctor was hanging over me with a skillfully-blank face, telling me she felt something.  Five days later and there I was, on the beach before the sun had risen, hoping for enlightenment as I licked my lips and wondered if the saltiness was from the sea, or from my sweat, or from the tears I wished would flow in hopes of reconciling some sort of catharsis with the numbness I found myself in.

I had a couple breakdowns at work as I waited till noon for my mom to pick me up for my appointment.  It wasn't necessarily out of fear, but out of pure exhaustion.  What I didn't expect to happen was have my OBGYN call me with my pap results:  as I feared, they came back showing signs of cervical dysplaysia.  So already, at 10am -- a full 3 hours before I learned the fate of my breasts -- I was scheduling a colposcopy with my OBGYN to figure out if surgery was needed on the other end of my body.  Is there no end in sight for this?  I tried to remind myself, though, that I've been living with this for 6 years and was still alive and well; I know the drill for my cervix, so best not to stress about it.  Cry because of heartbreak over it?  Yes. But fear?  Not now.

I sat in the waiting room of the Breast Imaging center for 50 minutes before they finally called me in.  By then I was starving, even MORE exhausted, and stressed to the point of angered tears.  Still, I maintained my composure until the doctor squeezed that lube onto my chest and began scanning it with the ultrasound wand.  I looked over briefly at the screen and then immediately turned my head away.  I couldn't bare the sight of it all.  In that one moment, it became real.  Because the doctor was seeing exactly what my OBGYN felt, and he took careful time - what felt like an eternity! - scanning it over and over.  Announcing to the physican's assistant the coordinates of how large the mass was.  "It extends from here [brief pause] all the way to here."

So much time passed.  I think that's why it became real.  I suppose I expected it to last just moments and they would easily identify that it was either one thing or another.  But the doctor took his time.  He paused for several minutes on one location, and then another.  I had plenty of time to visualize what this moment was going to be like, but I couldn't anticipate the wave of surreality come over and that tightness in my chest similar to a panic, or perhaps an adrenaline overdose like the kind where you were speeding a bit and then saw a cop in your rear-view mirror and thought he was going to pull you over until you saw him change lanes at the last minute.  Tears streamed down my face when I realized he was using his education to try to determine what this mass was - the answer didn't jump out at him.  It wasn't easy.  It required analysis, and proper doctoring.  There was something wrong.

When it was over, he told me he *thought* he knew what it was.  The words came out so quick and all I was waiting to hear was either "cancer", "biopsy" or "benign".  I couldn't' listen to anything else.  He explained in laments terms that what I had was similar to the concept of a mole - an abnormal growth of normal tissue.  He mentioned that these are common in other areas of the body, such as the liver.  Then he said it:  It was a tumor, but this variety is usually completely safe.

I froze for a moment.  Words were trying to come out but they got stuck in my throat, and so I let out an exasperated sob while looking straight into his eyes.  The thought crossed my mind of how many times he has seen this face I was giving him - one of relief, or one of pure terror; they were one and the same.  How many times has he had to deliver this news?  How did it affect him?  And why was I thinking of him so much???

His instructions to me where to carefully monitor it over the next 6 months and schedule a follow-up diagnostic ultrasound in December.  So I made my appointment, and walked out in a complete daze.  I can't say I felt relieved, because it wasn't the super harmless cyst I had expected.  It was, after all, a tumor.  I have a tumor in my breast. That's enough to make any woman anxious.

This morning, I woke up feeling normal until I remembered the events of yesterday, and it dragged me down into some gloom again.  Perhaps if my pap results had come back clean, I would feel different.  But I took the initiative of calling the Breast Screening center again, and asking more detailed questions that I couldn't ask yesterday due to an extreme case of discombobulation ;)  I asked for my clinical diagnosis, and for my charts and ultrasound images to be sent to me.  The latter will be mailed ot my house next week, and I promise to post an ultrasound image of Clementine (the name I have affectionately given my lump) :D

The clinical diagnosis given to me is a Breast Hamartoma.  Hamartomas are described as the following:

"A hamartoma (from Greek hamartion “bodily defect”) is a benign (noncancerous) tumorlike malformation made up of an abnormal mixture of cells and tissues found in areas of the body where growth occurs. It is considered a developmental error and can occur at a number of sites. A nonneoplastic mass can also arise in this way; therefore, misdiagnosis is possible, as is subsequent overtreatment with its added morbidity and mortality. Developmental remnants may be considered hamartomatous if they form discrete tumor-like masses" (source HERE)

This is NOT an image of my ultrasound - just one of a breast hamartoma I got off the internet.  But this is exactly what I imagine mine looks like - oval, smooth and soft.  Mine seems to be about the size of a quarter of my palm, although I bet it's much smaller than that in real life.

Of course, however, I did extensive research on them, and while they are considered benign and safe, many can evolve into carcinomas.  I've read that breast hamartomas are particularly rare, and I had to ask myself - why didn't my doctor order a biopsy, just to be sure?  He said his suspicion was that I had had this for years, and it went unnoticed.  Hamartomas occur usually during early development (or, in my case, puberty) since the abnormal growth usually grows in relation to the growth of normal surrounding tissues.  Last time I checked, I've been a fully developed woman for nearly 10 years.  Unless my ladies are planning a late-life growth spurt (wouldn't that be nice!), there is no growth of the normal tissues happenin' around there.  And this thing ain't no small little peanut.  So even if it is a harmless Hamartoma, why is it growing?  Am I the only one who sees a problem in the fact that I have a growing tumor in my boob??

Anyway.  I called my OBGYN today and asked her to get a hold of my reports and offer me a second opinion.  She is more of a less invasive doctor who prefers to avoid over-treatment when necessary, but according to my research, Hamartomas are somewhat difficult to diagnosis, even during biopsy.  So I think she may see the benefit, if anything but to ease my mind given that I have a cervical issue I am trying to address - by ordering a fine needle aspiration cytology (FNAC), which is a small needle they shove just to the edge of the mass, to collect superficial cells for analysis.  I am confident knowing I have an appointment on the books with her already in 2 weeks, which is plenty of time for her to get my charts (which take a week for the Breast Center to finalize) and review prior to my consultation.

But at this point, I at least know one thing - that an obvious cancer is NOT in my breast.  That is very hopeful :)  And my cervix?  Well, the dysplaysia came back as Low Grade Squamous Intraepitheleal Lesions, which is the mildest form of cervical cell abnormality there is, so I have some comfort in that, too.  Doc said she hopes the biopsy is perceived as nothing other than an annoyance to me, since she's doing it mostly just to get a look at the area to re-establish a new baseline, and to determine if the areas of question are something to worry about, or just let go for another 6 months to see if they resolve themselves.

So for now, I will breathe easy.  I will continue living my life and enjoying each day as the blessing it is; I will continue hating abdominal exercises, I will continue seeking new music for my cardio playlists, and I will continue planning my meals and having an embarrassing amount of fun with my new Tupperware with  separated compartments.  Onward and Upward!

Here's a little music video I made to a beautiful cover of Sia's song, "Titanium".  It was designed to be encouragement for people facing obstacles while they pursued their dreams.  But now?  I find it to be encouraging for ordinary people just trying to survive the onslaught of maladies we all try to dodge in this crazy, crazy world.

That time when you go in for a routine pap smear and the doctor tells you she found a lump in your breast.

“The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.” – Isak Dinesen

There comes a point in all of our lives where we are tested.  It is inevitable.  And most all of us know, whether from practical reasoning or first-hand experience, that it is only through trials that we can truly grow as individuals.

Some trials are inherently more damaging than others, though.  Some of us are put through the fire and lose everything; not a single thing in our lives is untouched, and we come out appearing completely different than when we first went in.  Those who never let their wounds heal, become jaded and marred; they are full of darkness, and sorrowful anger and bitterness overcome them.  Those who embrace the storm, however, and accept it, tend to reveal a gold within them that shines forth as an example onto others.  We call those people 'survivors'.

There are a great many things I've shared on this blog already that I had no intention of.  But when it came to explaining why I was doing what I was doing - eating clean, finally getting into shape, battling certain emotions or facing certain challenges and the feelings associated with them - I found it necessary to explain who I was, in order to make sense of who I wanted to be.  And then, to take it a step further, I began to wonder who else was like me, or going thru a similar predicament, or who had a similar past, and was trying to find enlightenment through the shared experiences of others.  Lord knows, I have been (and continue to be) that person! How many times have I gone onto google with such a specific question, and pulled up countless blogs authored by people I did not know, and whom I would likely never meet, but yet their courage to share a personal story contributed to my own knowledge, outlook, and general approach to handling whatever given situation I was in?

It is because of this that I write today about something new that I am facing, and how I will NOT let it affect my fitness journey.

I have written in the past about how I suffered cardiac arrest when I was 19 due to extreme electrolyte imbalances caused by several years of severe eating disorders.  I have written about how I have since experienced pretty strong (and scary!) episodes of PVCs and PACs occasionally.  I have written about my IBS (and in fact, it was through my facebook page and blog that I have grown comfortable with being open and talking to people about my disorder; it was always a topic of shame to me in the past).  And last week, I revealed on my facebook page that on Christmas Eve of 2006, I was diagnosed with a form of cervical pre-cancer (High Grade Squamous Intraepitheleal Lesions ~ HSIL).

I'd like to give a little back drop to that before I get into the topic d'jour.  I got my original HSIL diagnosis as just part of a routine annual pap smear when I was 20 years old on winter break from school.  I needed the pap to get my pill prescription renewed, which I took to combat extreme hormonal fatigue I get for like 2.5 weeks out of the month without it.  Otherwise, I was sexually inactive and focused on sports and classes, not on boys and relationships.  I tested negative for HPV, and had already received the Gardasil vaccine against HPV, anyway.  No family history of cervical disorders.  Didn't smoke, didn't drink, and exercised regularly.  In terms of risk factors, I was completely off the map.

Since my original diagnosis, I have had one surgery and several small out-patient procedures.  When you get an abnormal pap reading, the first thing you do is go in for a colposcopy.  It sounds scary, but your cervix actually has no nerve endings so you don't ever feel what they do - the only thing you feel is a cramping in your abdominal muscles in response to the procedure which feels like minor period cramps, so they tell you to take a dose of advil prior to the procedure to relax your muscles (I prefer 600 mg of Ibuprofen, taken with food).  They first go in and swab your cervix with a vinegar solution which, under a black light, reveals areas of deformed cervical tissue.  Then a small biopsy sample is taken from that area and examined under a microscope to reveal the extent of disease.  Sometimes it is nothing, or so minimal that your body can heal itself without you ever having to do anything further than the colposcopy.  If not, there are several procedures that can be done to address the situation.

My first surgery was the LEEP procedure, which I elected to be anesthetized for (which is not necessary).  I was just out of my mind with fear though, and knew it was in the best interest of my mental health.  They located the diseased spots on my cervix, and used an electricity-heated coil to literally scoop out the whole diseased sections of my cervix.  The heat of the coil simultaneously cauterized any blood flow.  A gauze-like material was placed over my cervix to help with healing and preventing infection, which naturally broke away from my cervix a few days later and worked it's way out of my body much like a period flow would.

After that procedure, I went in for pap smears every 4 months for a year.  If they all came back fine, I would go every 6 months the following year, and then once annually like everyone else.  But my last pap of the first year came back again with HSIL, and so I had another colposcopy, and this time I had cryotherapy done.  Have you ever had a wart on your finger which you had a doctor freeze off using liquid nitrogen?  It's essentially the same thing.  They just froze the diseased cells on my cervix which killed them, and they naturally disposed of themselves thereafter.  Easy peasy.  I stayed awake for the procedure, and it felt and lasted just as long as a normal pap.  NOTHING TO FEAR :)

I had cryotherapy done 3 times.  Since then, I have gotten many abnormal pap smears but my new OB/GYN has me wait 6 months and get retested before doing any treatment, to see if my body is capable of fighting off the diseased tissue on it's own. 3 times this has happened successfully. 

The last time I got an abnormal pap was exactly one year ago.  I waited 6 months and ironically, on Christmas Eve of 2011, I was told my pap came back negative for any abnormalities.  Which meant that if I could get thru my next pap in 6 months without any abnormalities, I could go back to just once a year having a pap.  I got the test done last thursday, and am in a knot of anxiety as each day goes by.  My doctor said that she will have the results back within a week, and if they are clear, she will not call me.  So in other words, no news is good news.

But all of that said, a former soccer friend of mine had recently posted on facebook that his sister - only 31 years old, and a mother of 3 - was diagnosed with Stage 2 breast cancer. I couldn't remember the last time I had a breast exam (a year ago?) so when I went in for my pap, I asked my OB/GYN to perform one.  I'll admit I don't examine myself as frequently as I should, but when I do, I've focused on just feeling for pea-sized rocks, or else to feel that my breasts felt uniform and similar to one another.  All good on that end!

As my doctor was examining me though, she paused and said, "Oh.  You have something here." 

No thoughts or feelings or emotions went thru my head.  I felt no fear, no shock, no worry.  She said, "Feel this.  Do you feel that?  It's about the size of a half-dollar."  I felt where she placed my finger tips - on the inner part of my breast, near my heart and sternum, away from my arm pits where I usually focused my own self-exams on.  "No, I don't feel anything.." I said. She pressed my fingers firmly onto the spot and that's when I felt it.  It was broad, flat and large - not that round pebble I had always felt for.  She was very matter-of-fact about it, which was calming to me, but as I thought about it later, she is probably trained to deliver this news stoically and nonchalantly so as not to spurn mass panic in patients.  She said that it felt like a cyst because it was softer than typically tumorous masses, but that she couldn't tell for certain, so it was important to schedule an appointment for an ultrasound.

Within minutes I had a diagnostic form in my hand that had already been faxed to a nearby Breast Health Imagining facility, and was told to call them right away as they were awaiting my call.  I called, and by then I was in a state of deep sorrow and utter disbelief.  It was shock - not the good kind that makes you go numb, but rather the bad kind that has you breathing heavily and thinking to yourself, "I'm too young for this; this can't be happening."  I couldn't believe the words I was uttering; I even choked on my own silent tears when giving my date of birth to the woman, and confirming that yes, given my age, I had not had a mammogram yet.  It was like something out of a sad movie.  Or a country song. Or a nightmare.

So here it is, Monday evening.  My ultrasound is less than 24 hours away, and I'm trying to focus on my work but I can't.  I have spoken to MANY many people who have told me they have had a friend or family member go through the same thing, or that they themselves have experienced it, and it's no big deal.  It turned out to be nothing - a benign cyst, a calcification, etc.  I'm young, I'm healthy, I should have nothing to fear.  I love my coffee and I've read caffeine can cause cysts; my hormones have been a bit off-kilter since changing my diet and exercise routines and losing weight, and I've read hormones can cause cysts; I play a lot of sports and can think of various times I've had a guy spike a volleyball straight into my chest, so maybe that could have caused some sort of trauma.  But all of these explanations do nothing to calm my fears, or help me with wanting to eat comfort food or skip the gym.

A couple months ago I wrote a blog entry about those days when you feel like you're at the bottom of the barrel and can't seem to find any hope or motivation to keep pushing onward.  The entry was called "Dieting is an Exhausting Mental Feat (Motivation for the Hard Days Ahead)"

At the very end, I wrote a paragraph that is resonating with me now.  My own words, written while I was still riding high and motivation was a breeze for me, are now helping to lift me up in this difficult time.  I have a full workout planned for today, but I am exhausted, especially mentally and spiritually.  In that paragraph, I wrote the following:

"What is life though, really? Were we ever told that none of the aforementioned tragedies would ever happen to us? Or that they would happen to us, but not to others? I'll tell you now, EVERYbody is in pain. Everybody has a worry. The day I was told I had cervical dysplasia and had to get a biopsy to tell me how invasive it was, I had every reason to not go to the gym. I had every reason to spend that day immersed in as many happy relaxing thoughts and environments as possible, indulge in as many treats as I wanted. But I didn't, I went to the gym and my tears were masked by the sweat pouring down my forehead. This is life, and these things happen, but as long as you're alive, there is still hope. And even when there isn't hope, there is the satisfaction of never giving up. Life's real dreams are the ones that can be realized only by waking up, not by drifting back into catatonic nonexistence."

So I am here to say that today is one of those days where there is not a single fiber of my being that wants to go to the gym.  I haven't slept well in days, I've already cried twice at work (the deep, heaving cries that leave you in a state of cathartic fogginess for hours), I overate a little to compensate for my exhaustion, and all I want to do is go home and watch something on Netflix in cozy pajamas and eat a bowl of ice cream and take a dose of Nyquil and knock out.

But I am not going to.  Because this is life, and these things happen, but as long as I am alive, there is still hope.  And even if I find out tomorrow the worst case scenario, there is still hope in the fight, and the satisfaction that I never gave up.  I've been through too much in my life to be a quitter now; I consider myself a survivor, and I have big shoes to fill if I'm going to keep that title.  Not to mention, if I give up on myself now, what sort of message will that send to me?  That I'm not capable of fighting, or rallying through challenging times?  What sort of precedent would that set?  An hour and 45 minutes of the toughest workout I can crank out, where I put all of my fear and anger and confusion and saddness and anxiety on the pyre and sacrifice it to the Gym Gods will do me so much more good than 6 hours of sogging on the couch to Sex & The City re-reuns while sharing my bowl of some overly-sugared processed frozen dairy product with the ever-present flow of my own tears.  Oh, and then the guilt I'll feel tomorrow!

It may take a lot more energy and strength to make this workout happen, but it is happening.  Because even when there isn't hope, there is still the satisfaction in never giving up.  That is where the growth happens.  That is where the human spirit shines.

Grief and it's Impact on Motivation

So, today is Friday the 13th, it's raining, and I just broke up with someone I cared deeply for.

Now, I'll be the first to admit I have suffered break-ups that were TERRIFICALLY worse than this one.  With this one, it was just a case of us both caring about each other but wanting/needing different things.  He is only 8 months out of a 5-year relationship with a girl he truly loved, and while their relationship failed miserably and was full of drama, it nonetheless weighs on him heavily.  Not to mention she has learned of me and apparently has flipped out on him, calling him sobbing, saying she feels like her whole life with him has been replaced by me (which, I suppose, it has.  But she was the one who broke up with him!  What does she expect?  Plus she's been in a new relationship for several months now!  She's just got her panties in a twist because she's seeing he's finally moving on.)  Anyway, it understandbly kills him to see her hurt.

And you know what?  I'm going to go on a tangent here, but a lot of people have told me that him saying this as a reason for him being distant from me lately is complete bullshit, that he might as well be cheating on me.  To those people, I ask you to each slap yourselves in the face and snap out of it.  Have a heart.  We have all experienced deep, all-encompasing love that doesn't work out in the end; the kind that consumes everything about us, but is too troubled and turbulent and never would have lasted.  They will NEVER get back together.  But it is completely illogical to expect that he won't live with a piece of her in his heart for the rest of his life.  I know I certainly hold pieces of relationships with me!  When you love someone that much and it doesn't work out, that pain never fully goes away.  It's a lie if people tell you it does, just as it's unreasonable to expect people to never harbor pain and sorrow from past relationships.  There is something about that bond that stays with you, remains a part of you, and haunts you for a very long time.  It's a pain that never goes away; it's something you rather just learn to live with and move on carrying.  Yes, time heals; yes, you can move on.  But the memories will always be there, and it can take years to fully rebound.

It hurts him to see her hurt.  It kills me inside to see himself sabotaging such a good thing with me for guilt of something that is in the past and dredging up useless demons to plague him in teh present.  But as a human, I find it endearing.  If I were in her shoes, I would like to know my former love was feeling this way; there is comfort in knowing you aren't alone in going thru the grief and healing process of divorcing yourself from someone who once held your whole heart in their hands.

I can be compassionate; in fact, I have to be.  Otherwise, anger and sadness and bitterness will take over.  But I have a lot of stress now because I don't feel like he understands that I need him to let me go entirely.  His argument is that neither one of us is necessarily looking for anything - and it's true.  Neither of us is in the market for marriage or children, so it's no real rush.  So, he asks, why does it have to be all or nothing.  Can't we keep it the way it is and just enjoy each other's company?  And I had to tell him no; it's not enough.  Because even though he says he cares for me, I care for him in a way that wants more.  I want to feel loved and special and wanted and desired.  I could do the casual thing so long as those feelings of endearment were shared.  But they aren't - in his own self-confessed words, he loves spending his time with me, but can't deal with obligation, he wants to be able to do whatever he wants, when he wants - not in being with other women, but doing whatever activities he wants without feeling obligated to take someone else into consideration.  And yea that really hurts, but it's honest and truthful and I've felt it before.  So I can understand.

But all of this to say, I am not feeling happy right now.  In fact, I am downright sad.  I feel my life is in flux, I'm not sure what I'm going to lose in all of this, and I fear the change that I'll have to push myself thru.  It is exhausting, and it is raining, and all I want to do is hunker down on my coach and drown myself in comfort foods and slip into a coma.

But, I will not. 

I am going to channel this sorrow into something better.  I am going to use it to motivate me to push harder.  I will dwell on the idea of finding someone more better suited for me.  I will dwell on possibly winning my ex back and looking more beautiful than ever when he has time to realize what he lost and how bad he messed up.  He never did me wrong, so I would take him back.  But if all else fails, I will do it because at least I know this one thing is true:  hard, tireless work put toward a goal I want so badly, will never disappoint.  I will never regret it.  The tears shed in the heat of a battle are always the most cathartic, regardless of whether I am victorious or not.  I will fight to prove that I don't need anyone's support but my own to achieve my goals.

I am looking at my diet journal right now for the day and it is so boring and unsatisfying-looking.  Even still, as I choke down this protein shake for lunch, I remind myself that the sacrifices I am making in terms of food consumption are worth it for the other benefits I get to experience all day long.  Once my liver converts this all into nothing more than glycogen and by-products, and that stuff feeds my cells and I no longer feel hunger, WHAT I ate really won't matter anymore.  It might taste like shit, but the temporary satisfaction of tasting with my tongue vanishes rapidly once I have the rest of the day to regret the weakness of an unnecessary cheat meal.

Plus, here's the thing to think about food.  We tend to use it as a reward because its pleasures are immediate and our brains are addicted to the feel-goodies produced by it.  But it is possible to re-train your brain.  It is possible to remind yourself that there is more than one way to treat yourself - shopping or doing a certain activity, or perhaps indulging in some quality quiet time (nap, anyone???) are great ways to treat yourself and derive the same kind of feel-goody feelings.

I'm going to kick my own ass in my workout later today, enjoy the catharsis of exhaustion, and think about what I want to do tonight.

And all to the tunes of two of my favorite songs right now:

Brittney Spears:  Stronger 

Kelly Clarkson:  Stronger