It’s the beginning of a new year and we’re all optimistic about embarking on a new healthier lifestyle. Who doesn’t want to live their best life? However, who really knows where to start. Skinny isn’t necessarily healthy, I should know. Eating healthy is a great way to ensure that your body gets the nutrition it needs to stay strong and healthy. It’s also great fuel for staying active. Many people struggle with eating healthier, I know I do. I’m great until it gets “too hard” and then I give up. I’m not alone, many people feel like the transition is too difficult or require them to make too many changes in their routine. But it doesn’t have to be that way.
Here are five simple tips for starting to eat healthier.
1) Start Your Day Right
A good breakfast is essential for setting you up for success throughout the day. Instead of reaching for something processed and sugary, try having some eggs, a piece of fruit, or some Greek yogurt with berries. And if you’re short on time in the morning, try prepping breakfast ahead of time so that all you have to do is grab and go! I’m putting Overnight Oats, Daily Harvest smoothies and bowls and, my default favorite, avocado toast with a drizzle of honey and sirracha in rotation. All these options can help you start your day on the right foot.
2) Bring Your Lunch
Eating out can be expensive and unhealthy—it’s much better to bring your own lunch from home when possible. Preparing lunches ahead of time makes this easier; you have to grab them from the fridge instead of stopping somewhere on your way back from work or school. Start meal prepping for lunch by packing up leftovers from dinner or bringing tabouli salads and sandwiches made with nutritious ingredients.
3) Drink More Water
Water is life. Literally. Staying hydrated throughout the day helps keep your body functioning well and can even help reduce feelings of hunger that can lead people to overeat. Drinking plenty of water also helps flush out toxins in your system while keeping you energized and focused throughout the day. Carry a reusable water bottle around with you so that you always have access to water when needed—this will come in handy during long days at work or school! I know not everyone is as water obsessed as I am but I’m telling you it is for your best. If you need to change up the taste try adding fruit to your water, a little pineapple, strawberry, orange or lemon can go a long way in the flavor department.
4) Eat More Veggies
Vegetables are incredibly nutritious—they provide essential vitamins and minerals as well as fiber which helps keep you full between meals. Try adding more veggies to every meal by having roasted brussels sprouts or broccoli as a side dish at dinner or adding some spinach into an omelet in the morning. You could even try smoothies by blending some leafy greens like kale with frozen fruit! This is also a great place to add in some collagen peptides and protein via powders. You can tell I’m getting older because I’m trying to make even my healthy foods more healthy with supplements and vitamins.
5) Plan Meals Ahead of Time
It’s much easier to stick to healthy habits if meals are prepared ahead of time, so cooking isn’t an option when hunger strikes late at night after a long day at work or school. Meal planning takes away some of the stress associated with preparing healthy meals each day; simply take an hour on Sunday afternoon (or whenever works best for your schedule) and plan out what meals you want during the week ahead! This will save time during busy weeks when eating healthily might otherwise feel impossible due to lack of time.
Eating healthier doesn’t have to be complicated – start small with simple steps like drinking more water throughout the day, bringing lunches from home, eating more vegetables each meal, planning meals ahead of time, and starting off each morning right with breakfast! With these easy tips, you can easily start eating healthier without any stress or hassle!
If you really want to feel your best, move. It doesn’t matter what you do, just move your body for at least 20 minutes a day. My favorites are walking indoors or outdoors, yoga, rowing and working out with Obe fitness. I’ll share more about that in an upcoming post, as well as, daily on my instagram stories. Good luck. We’ve got this.
In tales from the “what the fuck is going on?” and/ or another episode of “Let’s demonize women for existing,” or “misogyny gone wild” a black mother in Ohio, Brittany Watts, is facing felony charges after suffering a devastating, near fatal miscarriage.
Brittany Watts is facing felony charges for “abuse of a corpse” after suffering a miscarriage at nearly 22 weeks into her pregnancy, on September 22, 2023. Now, her case is headed to trial. The 33-year-old, Watts, is being accused of miscarrying her pregnancy while using the restroom and then flushing the fetal remains down her toilet. * Newsflash, that’s usually what happens.
According to a GoFundMe page set up to help with mounting legal costs for Watts, “Brittany Watts suffered an agonizing miscarriage in the bathroom of her home in Warren, Ohio on September 22, 2023.
Brittany did nothing to cause her miscarriage. Her doctor had told her that her 21-week pregnancy could not survive, and she would miscarry. When the bleeding and the pain from the impending miscarriage got severe, she did the same thing that many women who miscarry at home do. Brittany went into her bathroom, miscarried into her toilet, and flushed. What happened after that is something that should only happen in Margaret Atwood’s Gilead, and certainly not in the United States of America.
Within hours of Brittany’s admission to the hospital for her life-threatening hemorrhaging, police removed the toilet from Brittany’s home and destroyed it searching for fetal remains. Brittany, a woman with no criminal history, was charged with felony gross abuse of a corpse, even though there is no Ohio law dictating the “proper” disposal method of the remains of a miscarriage. On November 2, Brittany sobbed as she sat in a courtroom listening to police officers describe the details of the most intensely personal moments of her life and then vilify her to the world, all while being recorded by local news media.”
Okay, this is a whole lot of what the actual fuck is going on here. As someone who has suffered a miscarriage (and that is exactly what happens to a woman when she miscarries…she suffers mentally and physically), there are no words to describe the kind of hell a mother endures when she loses her child. This is a deeply personal, painful, and private matter and one in which is difficult to navigate. No one knows what to do in this situation. It happens to you unexpectedly and you try to survive it in the best way you can. Believe me, for the mother, it is almost unbearable.
According to the National Library of Medicine, an estimated 23 million miscarriages occur every year worldwide, translating to 44 pregnancy losses each minute. The pooled risk of miscarriage is 15·3% . Miscarriages happen to women not because of them, so why does the government and legal system want to punish us for what is already so devastating?
To add insult to such a grievous injury, the Ohio legal system is not only blaming the victim (because that is exactly what any mother who miscarries is) for a medical emergency, a fetus that failed to thrive through no fault of the mother; they are actually bringing women up on felony charges. This is one of the most demented and misogynistic things a society can do.
Watts has gone through one of the most painful and life changing experiences any woman can go through and now she is being demonized and prosecuted for disposing of the biological matter. What the fuck was she supposed to do? Women are not taught proper disposal of our miscarried babies when we watch the movie about menstruation in fifth grade! No one teaches us proper sex education in schools, we are taught abstinence in hushed tones and discouraged from asking any questions. We are told that we are sluts and all kinds of other insults if we dare to even inquire or try to educate ourselves and now, we are even blamed and held legally responsible when our pregnancies miscarry. It’s not bad enough that they list miscarriages on insurance bills as missed abortions and that the government has taken away our right to choose, now, they are actively charging women for being a victim of nature’s cruelest punishment.
I’m tired of men making laws on women’s bodies. Men have no idea what it feels like to live in a woman’s body and to suffer being a female. Because yes, for as much as I love being a woman, our misogynistic society keeps us in shackles and punishes us at will for no reason other than what lies between our legs. We are punished daily, in every aspect of our lives, simply for being born with a vagina.
Women are treated like second class citizens. We constantly have everything we say and do questioned, and that’s when we’re not being completely ignored. W are not even given domain over our own bodies. We are leered at and sexualized at every turn from birth till death. Sex is weaponized against us. Rape is a consequence for existing. We can’t even choose when, where, how or if we want to have children. Do you know what giving birth is like? It is the most painful thing a woman can ever endure. It is so painful that it makes you want to die to escape it.
The act of giving birth is one done out of complete love and sacrifice, and we do it over and over again because of that complete and unconditional love we have for our children. But make no mistake, it is no easy task. It is the most difficult and intense experience any human being can go through.
Imagine choosing that, knowing the full weight of that sacrifice, and choosing it over and over again. Then, imagine losing your pregnancy. The emptiness, the sorrow, the void a mother feels is mind bending. The loss of what might have been, the promise of holding and loving your child is mind breaking. The physical pain, the failure of your body, the failure of your child to thrive…so much loss and all that love with nowhere to go. There is nothing as painful in this world as a full heart and empty arms.
I did not miscarry at home. In fact, my pregnancy was intact. I’m not sure if that would make me more or less of a villain in my miscarriage story. My child no longer had a heartbeat. You don’t know devastation until you’ve heard these words uttered to you. My child, who looked absolutely perfect on an ultrasound, had no heartbeat and my body would not let go of it, so I had to have my pregnancy surgically removed. My other option was that I could have taken a wait and see approach and possibly gone septic and have risked death. It was like going through labor with nothing to show for it in the end but a broken heart. So many women must labor only to go home with empty arms and broken hearts…broken hearts that never heal. I left my child behind at the hospital. My child became biomedical waste. No one asked me what I wanted to do with the remains. I was not offered cremation or burial. There was no counseling offered to me. I simply arrived with a pregnancy and left a mother without a child.
In Watts’ case, the miscarriage happened at home. The fetus’ remains were uncovered by local law enforcement on Sept. 22, per the Warren Police Department, after they removed the toilet from her home and tested it for fetal matter.
Now, Watts faces this felony charge even AFTER a forensic pathologist testified last month that her fetus was not born alive and died before passing through the birth canal; further, he said the fetus was “nonviable because [Watts] had premature ruptured membranes—her water had broken early—and the fetus was too young to be delivered.” Watts’ defense attorney, Tracy Timko, told media last month that her client “learned days before” her miscarriage that this outcome “was inevitable and that the fetus could not survive outside the womb due to gestational age.”
None of this makes sense. None of this vilification of this mother is logical or reasonable. Brittany Watts should not be on trial, Ohio should be on trial for the cruel and unusual punishment of a living, human woman.
What are your thoughts? I am disgusted and flabbergasted but I am not shocked in the least because this is what the world does to women time and time again, throughout history.
Cry. It’s the only thing my body could do when I heard that cruel word – miscarriage. I wanted to scream, to rage against the injustice, but I couldn’t. The words stuck in my throat as an icy fist gripped my heart. All I could do was cry these deep, guttural sobs that seemed to emanate from the core of my soul. How does miscarriage affect a woman? It changes everything about it.
My unexpected miracle, that little life I never dreamed I deserved, was gone. Snatched away far too soon. Those two bright lines on the pregnancy test had filled me with hope, excitement over the promise of a love like no other. But in an instant, that beautiful promise was shattered, coldly labeled as nothing more than a “miscarriage.”
I shattered right along with it. My heart broke into innumerable pieces as I struggled just to breathe through the anguish. Uncontrollable sobs wracked my body as despair closed in – I had never felt so lost, so utterly and hopelessly broken.
The Devastation No Mother Should Face
We hadn’t shared the joyful news with anyone yet, too petrified of jinxing our fragile happiness. I had seen my sister’s devastation after her miscarriage at 9 weeks. At 10 weeks and 4 days along, I thought I was safe. I wasn’t.
The haunting look on the ultrasound tech’s face said it all before she could speak the words – there was no flickering heartbeat, only a perfect, still little life within me. My world imploded in that moment. Waves of screaming anguish and denial crashed over me, the physical pain indescribable.
How Miscarriage Shatters a Woman
The torment of losing an unborn child is one of the most traumatic, heartbreaking experiences any woman can endure. It leaves you hollowed out and gasping, struggling just to draw your next ragged breath through the searing pain. An icy numbness seizes you as your hands desperately clutch your body, craving the feeling of that life within that’s been so cruelly torn away.
You want the world to stop spinning so you never have to move past this nightmare moment when your deepest hopes and dreams withered before your eyes. The thought of others pitying you, or trying in vain to rationalize your devastation, makes you want to curl deeper inward and shut everyone out.
Just let me be, you want to cry out. Let me feel the full weight of this mountainous loss, this betrayal of everything I’d dared to hope for. Don’t try to placate me – simply allow me to bear the burden of these primal, animalistic screams of grief tearing from the depths of my very soul.
Don’t touch me. Don’t speak empty condolences. Just let me drown in my darkness, my personal hellscape where life makes no sense and all dreams have turned to ashes.
For that tiny life was your promised dream of unconditional love, a blessing you never imagined deserving. And that promise now lies horrifically shattered, leaving you hollowed out, empty, and feeling irreparably betrayed by life itself. Words hold no meaning when every shallow breath reminds you of the indescribable anguish clawing at your lungs.
All you can do is cry.
When the Anguish Never Fully Fades
As you read these words, I was at the hospital having a D&C because I couldn’t fathom carrying my lifeless child within me a moment longer. I should have been joyfully sharing our pregnancy journey, but instead I’m laying bare the most visceral, agonizing loss a mother can endure. Writing it out is the only way I know to keep breathing through this all-consuming pain.
Even now, over a decade later, I can still feel the lump permanently lodged in my throat whenever I think of my Declan – the son I loved with every fiber of my being yet never got to hold, not even for a fleeting moment. His entire existence amounted to morning sickness, wistful daydreams, and countless tears. So much he’ll never experience – sunrises, sunsets, his sisters’ laughter, his dad’s soothing voice at bedtime, my whispers of unconditional love and pride surrounding him.
I’m angry and feel forever cheated, because he’s been gone longer than he was ever here. It will never make sense, this unfathomable cruelty, and I’ll never stop feeling gutted by the gaping wound his absence left behind. Even on my calmest days, the injustice still leaves me wanting to rage at the universe, to throw tantrums and scream at the sheer unfairness of it all. Why them and not us? Why don’t I deserve that happiness too?
This pain ebbs and flows, but it never fully goes away. There’s always that dull yet persistent ache, that sense of missing your own vital organ whenever you see other mothers and sons embracing the futures you’ll never experience. I mask it and pretend I’m okay, but I’m not. Not completely. Miscarriage leaves invisible scars that indelibly change you.
A Call for Compassion and Healing
If you know someone suffering through the unimaginable agony of miscarriage, don’t minimize their pain with platitudes or toxic positivity. Extend a compassionate embrace, a listening ear, and an acknowledgment that their grief is valid and whole. Let them cry, scream, and metabolize their shattering loss however they need to in that moment. Offer your presence, not pity.
Because having a dream, a part of your very soul, ripped away…it leaves a deep wounding that time doesn’t fully heal. We owe it to ourselves and each other to remove the stigma around pregnancy loss and create spaces where women can openly process their breathtaking pain without shame or judgment.
Share stories like mine, or those of your loved ones, to raise awareness. Let other women know they don’t have to suffer in silence and loneliness when their worlds have fallen apart. Validate their anger, their confusion, their soul-deep mourning, and remind them that this sisterhood of survivors has their back.
One compassionate conversation at a time, we can make spaces for healing and grace to coexist with the anguish that consumes us on our darkest days. Because even if we never “move on” from such a shattering loss, surrounding each other with empathy and love can ensure that no woman has to bear miscarriage’s tremendous burden alone.
Do you like surprises? Me, neither. Unless it’s, here’s a bag filled with a million dollars sort of surprise. Still, I got a big one this Mother’s Day. My baby girl became a woman.On.Mothers.Day. If that isn’t putting a fine point on it all, I don’t know what is. I thought we had some time. She’s only 11, well, nearly 12. In a week, she will be 12-years-old. But if I’d been in any sort of denial about my baby growing up, welp, that’s all been slapped right out of my mind.
Mother’s Day wasn’t what I expected this year on any account. Normally, I relax and spend the day focused on myself, alone. It has been heavenly and indulgent and wonderful for my entire tenure as a mother because my husband is awesome. He gets me. He really does.
This year was different because mortality decided it wanted to pay me an unexpected visit just to remind me that I am not actually invincible. I am human. I err. I can die at any moment. We all can.
While I’ve been secretly patting myself on the back because I don’t feel like I’ve had a “midlife crisis” like some others who have told me they are in the throes of one, I got too damn big for my britches, as my southern mama would say. While I was busy not obsessing over my looks, rejecting bread like it was syphilis and trying to fight mother nature my body played a nasty trick on me. While I was being “cool” and “aging gracefully” my body had other plans.
Here I am with a health created, self-induced midlife crisis. Suddenly, the carefree, living in the skin I’m in, tired of being fat but not tired enough to do something about it woman is now, working out and eating like her life depends on it. I’m not fighting the hands of time but I’m trying to keep death at bay. I’m trying to reverse the damage a lifetime of abusing my body has inflicted.
So amidst all of this, on the bleakest of Mother’s Day, laying in bed feeling completely overwhelmed by my own inner monologue…living in this moment of the winter of my most discontent…an effing period snapped me out of it. My baby girl became a woman and put even a finer point on the fact that I’ve got work to do. My girls need me and there is no time for self-pity. Self-care yes. Self-reflection? Hell yeah. I need to be at my best because my girls need me for many more firsts.
She was a little scared. It’s new and it was her first. It was different than her sister, as they’ve always been. It was magical and scary for us both. But it was exciting too because it’s her first and she’s a young woman. This is the beginning of a lifetime of womanhood. We are all three of us women. We’re like a club or a coven or something but this binds us in an even deeper way. Then we went out to celebrate with Starbucks because in our house becoming a woman is cause for celebration.
My babies are growing up. One of them, quite literally, on Mother’s Day. The Big Guy and my girls have been my saviors in this life, more times than once. They give me reason and purpose and that is more than enough. The Big Guy saved me from myself when he came into my life. The girls rescued me from mediocrity. Having them has always made me want to do and be better. Because of them, I am becoming my best self.
How did you celebrate Mother’s Day? What do your children inspire you to do?
Abercrombie & Fitch CEO, Mike Jeffries, very un- Abercrombie & Fitch like himself, has gone on record saying that he does not want to market his product to the fat kids or the unattractive masses. He wants the thin, cool, popular kids. He’s kind of a bully. There should be a sign out front: Send me your thin, cool, waif-like huddled masses. Keep your fat, unpopular and poor. We fat shame. Welcome! (more…)
Tonight’s Throat Punch is brought to you by a judgmental doctor. Don’t get me wrong some of my favorite people in the world are doctors; my brother in law, one of my best friends to name a few. I realize that they are, in fact, human; just like you and I. But I expect a standard of professionalism when they are practicing medicine. What they say at home, that’s between them and their HIPAA conscience. But when a doctor brings assumption and judgment into the exam room, we have a problem .
I’ve been having persistent coughing fits for the past 2 weeks and decided to go to the local RediMed, as I don’t have a GP here yet. The doctor walked in the exam room ( after I had waited 2 hours to see her) with a less than enthusiastic attitude, as if I had done something to deserve to be sick. It was apparent from the moment she walked into the room looking through her nose at me, that she was a judgmental doctor. Worse still a cold bitch, as the room dropped 10 degrees when she walked in.
She began by asking me the standard questions. How long have you had the cough? Are you feeling any sinus pressure? Are you feeling any pressure in your ears? I say yes. She asked, “Pressure? or PAIN?” Her tone was as if I had misunderstood her question. I had not. She had a very thick accent. I’ve grown up immersed in thick accent as my fathers mother tongue is not English. I don’t usually have an issue understanding accents but hers was quite thick.
Judgmental Doctor You are No Lady
“Do you have any allergies?” Yes, I have seasonal allergies.
“When you cough are you bringing anything up? Yes (I’m assuming she was referring to phlegm).
This is when it all fell apart.
At this point she is looking at me, as if I have totally done something wrong, “You really have to watch what you are eating late at night!” I eat at 5:30 every night.
I have no f*cking idea what she is talking about.
“You must cut back on the greasy food! Take some Prilosec and stop eating these kinds of food!!!! ” She’s practically yelling.I feel as if I am on trial.
“Stop drinking all the sugar, sodas and coffee at night. You need to watch what you eat so you don’t destroy your esophagus with your unhealthy eating habits.”
I don’t!I don’t! I don’t!
What the f*ck is she talking about? Since when did a cough warrant a scolding on non-existent eating habits?
Judgmental Doctor Say What
Then it hits me like a ton of rocks hurled by sizists at the fat kid. Somehow, when I was explaining to her that when I lie down at night the coughing fits get worse, she heard “I’m a big fat asshole who has acid reflux because I can’t control my binge eating at night. I drink 2 liters of soda and pots of coffee with reckless abandon because I just don’t give a shit about my health!”
She was being very condescending and rude.
I know I am out of shape. I am heavier than I ever wanted to be.
I DO NOT HAVE ACID REFLUX.
I HAVE NEVER HAD HEARTBURN. I don’t even know what it feels like.
I came in for COUGHING FITS not a judgmental doctor with a side of asshole bedside manner. Who did she think she was?
I seldom drink caffeine, never at night. I’ve never been a binge eater. I’m a restrictor. To add insult to injury, I’m pretty sure that the reason I am as heavy as I am now is partly from all the damage I did to my body when I was in the throes of my 8 year battle with eating disorders. Doesn’t this bitch know I have body dysmorphic disorder?
Of course she doesn’t, she’s just the freaking drive thru of doctors and she doesn’t have my full medical records. That insensitive bitch just used her judgmental doctor powers on someone who has to talk herself into accepting herself on a daily basis. I’ve never felt so ugly in my life.
I was deflated. Enraged. Wanted to throat punch her and cry simultaneously. On top of everything else, it’s shark week and I’m not feeling especially happy with excessive water weight that I’m holding.
Thanks for the pep talk, Dr. Kevorkian.My throat Punch goes to the wicked stupid, judgmental doctor with the sizist attitude and atrocious bedside manor.
Hope you will link up your Throat Punch Thursday posts with me. I wanted to extend a personal invite to all of you to link up any posts in which you air a grievance, call out any asshatery,or just dole out a well deserved throat punch to one of societies shortcomings or political douche canoes. If not this week, I do it EVERY single Thursday and would love for any or all of you to join in! All you have to do is grab the Throat Punch Thursday button ( listed under the “about” tab at the top of the page), put it in your blog post and link up. If you’d like to stay in the Throat Punch know, I’d love it if you would email subscribe ( as GFC will stop working soon). Just say No to a Judgmental doctor.
My feeds are full of the news of the sudden death by suicide of Stephen “tWitch” Boss. Everyone is shocked that he’s dead. It’s a travesty. Simultaneously, the world is knocked off its axis by the idea that a seemingly happy man/father/husband/celebrity who appeared to be living his “best life” with everything to look forward to, in fact, committed suicide.
But, I’m not shocked that anyone commits suicide anymore. Life is hard. Many of us contemplate it, some of us go as far as to meticulously plan it, still others attempt and too many succeed. As someone with Bipolar 1 disorder, I’ve become intimately aware of the statistics that 20-60% of all people diagnosed with bipolar will attempt suicide at least once in their life and 4-19% will succeed.
Depression does not discriminate. It gives no fucks about what you or anyone else thinks your life should feel like. Mental illness doesn’t care how wealthy you are or how charismatic you are. It strikes and it’s a cruel, clingy and unjust bitch. Once she has her greedy hold on you, she doesn’t want to let go. Wave after wave of sadness, grief and melancholy battering every inch or your heart, soul and body. It’s no wonder we start to drown in the seas of sadness. Survival is not guaranteed. Only by the grace of the universe, holding on for literal “dear life” determination and the support system to keep fighting through immeasurable pain, self-doubt, loathing and loneliness until the storm passes do we get to see another day.
To the outside world, Boss seemed like a man who had everything; a beautiful wife and 3 lovely children, a loving marriage and a career that was glowing up in all the best ways. He looked his happiest when he was with his family. He literally seemed to radiate from within. However, the truth is that we have no idea what was really going on in his heart and his head. He was beloved on the internet for his big personality, devotion to his family and all the good he brought to the online world. He was someone we needed; he was light. But even the most optimistic person has worries and weight. Most importantly, who did he see in the mirror? How did he feel in his own skin? Who was the real him to tWitch? The public is left bewildered and maybe even a little scared because if “it” could happen to him, it can happen to anyone, right? I feel this deeply because I’ve been on the precipice of eternal darkness before and it’s a terrifying and out-of-control place to be.
In my weakest moments as an adolescent, I spend many hours lying awake in the night, quietly full of despair silently sobbing into a pillow because I felt trapped in an inescapable hell, completely and utterly alone. Part of me wanted to disappear and another part of me wanted to be noticed and saved but that other part wanted to cease to exist and quietly float off into the ether. I wanted the peace that could only be found alone in the silence and darkness. These were my constant, ever-pervading thoughts throughout my early teens my early 20s.
But if you were to ask 99%of the people who knew me then, they would describe me with words like “nice,” “sweet”, “smart”, and “FUN” (yep, bipolar mania, professional and consummate compartmentalizer skills), and “funny”. I laugh a lot and I like to make others laugh even when inside, I’m falling apart. I’m one of those people who always holds it together; the deeper the pain, the quieter I get about it, and the less I scream and yell about it. I retreat into myself. I hide in plain sight. If you know, you certainly know what I’m talking about. Feeling sad sometimes feels shameful because where the hell do I get off feeling sorry for myself when so many others have it so much worse? That’s what I told myself.
In high school, I was the smart, quiet “girl next door”, the “most likely to succeed” type. I got up, went to school, did my best, and got through my days pretending to be happy and good-natured; friend to everyone. I was the type that teachers and other people’s parents loved. But my thoughts were dark. I was sad, scared, anxious and angry. No one knew what was going on at home. I never told them. I was ashamed. At home, I was the victim of physical and emotional abuse from an alcoholic father. Every moment, of every day was erratic and school was my solace. From 8-3 pm every day, I was safe. I was normal.
By the time I got to college, I had become comfortable with pretending. I was on my own for the first time in my life, I was away from my boyfriend and friends, everything was new and overwhelming. I felt out of control. In the beginning, I was scared and felt swallowed up whole by the experience but then I just let go or rather I broke under all the weight of bending. Let me explain, I pretended to be care-free. I pretended to be cool with a lot of things I wasn’t. I pretended that being completely alone in a new place, wasn’t scaring me to death. I pretended that waking up with a guy (I thought was a “friend”) on top of me, slithering off like a thief in the night while I slept…never happened. I pretended that I was tougher than I was. I pretended to be happy. I pretended to be the life of the party. None of that was true. It was quite the opposite.
What the world saw was not me. It was some version of me. She was the only reason I survived. She was the fake it until you make it Debi. Or maybe I was the push it til you break it Debi. Around this time, my eating disorders kicked into high gear. At one point it was so bad that I was consuming roughly 200-300 calories a day while purging (without the binging) sometimes up to as many as 10 times in any given 24-hour period. I felt trapped inside my own body and mind. Never free to be the real me. No. I couldn’t handle that rejection.
In those days, I survived on 3-5 hours of sleep a night, worked full-time, went to school full-time 1.5 hours away from where I lived and had to drive back and forth every day and still maintained a boyfriend and robust social life. I lived like a frat boy, drinking into the early hours of the morning, satiating my id and sleeping on the sofa at my best guy friend’s house. Pretending to be okay. No one met the real me then.
There was a Debi for school, one for work, another for the boyfriend, one who pretended to fearlessly sleep on the sofa of a house full of guys, and even one more Debi for nightlife. I felt like a little girl playing dress-up. I was not ready for any of this. The time I was the most myself was in the 3 hours I was in the car alone, blaring Alanis Morrisette and Mazzy Star, singing at the top of my lungs. No one knew me. I was a lot of people for a lot of people but I was almost never “me”.
I was tortured but when I was doing what I needed to do, when I was chin-upping it I could avoid reality and the reality was that I wanted to die. Living was too painful. Breathing was a chore. Slipping on and off personalities like comfortable coats was exhausting.
It felt like everyone wanted a piece of me but only the palatable pieces. No one wanted or cared enough to move past the “me” that they needed to really see the “Me” that I actually was. This explains how the body dysmorphia got so bad. My therapist once told me that my perception of myself is so skewed that I can never trust my own eyes to know what I really look like. So, the cost of the chameleon life I led, straddling reality and pretending to be everything to everyone is that I no longer get to see the real me. I’m gone, vanished from my own sight.
As you may surmise from the previous paragraphs, I was chronically and acutely depressed with suicidal ideation and I had a plan. I even had the opportunity and motive. My point is that to the outside world and even to those closest to me, I seemed okay. Some people even called me the life of the party. I was good at hiding the darkness. I was great at pretending to be happy and go lucky when inside I was breaking. I compartmentalized my life in such a definitive way that I built a fortress around my innermost me that cut myself off from everyone and everything I loved. I lost my joy. Even when I was smiling, I was probably actively planning how, when, and where I was going to give myself over to that eternal quiet darkness that I was longing for. I was done but I couldn’t share that part of me with anyone. I didn’t want them to console or stop me. At the time, I felt like there was no way out and I was destined to a fate of pretending to be alternate versions of myself to be loved by others. The burden was too heavy but I wore it like a dress with pockets and no one seemed to notice the gravity of it all.
In the end, we see what we want to see. We choose to believe that some people have it better than others. It’s the lie we tell ourselves to help us make it through the days. To be fair, we only see what people allow us to see of themselves and they only see what we give them access to of ourselves. In a world built on flawless filters where people are so busy that they seldom look up from their screens to see a sunset, how can any of us be expected to check in on our friends who seem to be okay? Or worse the ones who seem to be good? And that, my friends, is the problem.
We live in a world where we don’t have the time or bandwidth to care about others the way that we’d like to believe we do. We’re a society saturated in our own woes and even when we want to, it can seem futile. But we put on our brave and happy faces and we soldier on until we can no longer endure.
I don’t know what happened Monday to trigger and escalate the situation for Boss. I don’t know what his “no longer can endure” breaking point but I know the pain it feels to be there in the thick of it. I know the sorrow and thick melancholy that makes it hard to breathe and even harder to live. My heart goes out to Boss and his family. It breaks my heart to think of how alone and desperate he must have felt in those final moments when no longer existing seemed the only option.
People always want to know how and why someone could do such a thing, especially when they seem to have it all. The thing is “having it all” is worthless when you feel completely alone and unworthy of your blessings; when you hurt so much that you can’t even find joy in the things that used to make you profoundly happy; you can’t function normally under the heaviness of the sadness. You begin to doubt the point of your existence and wonder if removing yourself might actually be better for your family and friends. I’ve been there and now; my daughter is there. Sometimes, I think I survived just for this moment. I’ve been on both sides of the darkness as someone’s child and now, as the parent of someone mired in the darkness and it’s worse than you can imagine.
If you or someone you know is feeling alone in the darkness, having suicidal ideation and/or making a plan, reach out for help. You are not alone. There are so many of us who have survived. There is no switch to turn or pill to take to be all better. It’s painful to survive BUT it’s worth it. Take it day by day, hour by hour or even minute by minute. The pain seems unbearable and the crisis unsurmountable when you look at the big picture, so look for the tiny moments to get you through to the next.
If you’re in the United States, you can call the suicide and crisis lifeline at 988, available in Spanish and English language, 24 hours a day. Someone is always there to listen. You are worth saving. You matter.
This post reflects a compensated editorial partnership with Voices for Healthy Kids, a joint initiative of the American Heart Association and Robert Wood Johnson Foundation.
When I was growing up, kids were encouraged to play outside. It was the most natural thing to see children outside playing; climbing trees, riding bikes, playing tag, kickball, or just running. Neighborhood parks were our favorite place to be.
Of course, when I was growing up there wasn’t the Internet. There were no laptops, iPads, kindles or Google. There were computers but they were big and bulky and not everyone had access to them. If you wanted to know what the name of that guy was who did the voice of that character in your favorite movie, you couldn’t Google it, you had to get up off your butt, go to the library and check the encyclopedias, the papers and the magazines. It was a whole big thing so why not just go swimming with your friends?
These days, kids are becoming tech savvy at a lot younger age. The Internet is commonplace and as we evolve technologically, we seem to be doing a lot more sitting and a lot less moving. Kids are not playing outside like they used to. Physical education is being phased out. Recess is becoming viewed as an obsolete dinosaur because who needs fresh air and playing on jungle gyms when you can play a video game about being outside and playing on jungle gyms?
We’re supposed to be moving forward but in a way, I feel we are moving backwards. Just because we have the Internet to answer every question we can ever dream of that doesn’t mean that we should stop moving, just because we can.
I believe our children’s physical health and well-being is just as important as their intellect, maybe more so because we only have one body and once that body is damaged, it’s hard to repair that. Research shows kids need 60 minutes of physical activity per day and PE programs can help get them there so why not teach our kids at a very young age to cherish their bodies and physical well-being.
It’s our job as parents to ensure that our little ones are healthy, and for me that includes advocating for physical education and more recess. In a world where it is getting easier and easier to do everything from the touch of a button, it’s important that we instill in our children not only the importance of physical activity, but the habit of moving. We need to model that behavior from a very early age. Heaven knows it’s easier to hand our kids the phone to play than to stop what we are doing and engage them physically, but we have to make the time and find the energy to just do it.
Childhood obesity is not only “a thing” in our society but it is commonplace. We live in a world where super-sized everything is the norm, and it is cheaper to buy junk food than it is to buy healthy food. Did you realize only 4% of elementary schools, 8% of middle schools, and 2% of high schools provide daily PE or its equivalent for the entire school year?
Kids don’t get time to just play anymore. Everything is scheduled and those schedules are packed. In my family, 6 days a week, my girls have extracurricular activities. It just so happens that their activities are physical, but there is very little time for free play and not all kids have these kinds of rigorous physical schedules. This is one of the reasons they don’t spend a lot of time on their devices. A healthy body fosters a healthy mind and increases academic performance. That’s a good thing, in my opinion.
I try to fill our summers with activities like hiking, bike riding, swimming and playing outside. The girls like to spend a lot of time on the trampoline, slack line and zip line and luckily for us, they are not that into being on the computer unless it’s for homework. They’ve not discovered Minecraft or video games yet.
I’m always advocating for more recess and additional days of physical education because those days are important, not only for our children’s physical well-being but their mental well-being too. PE addresses the needs of the whole child, positively impacting their physical, mental, and emotional health. Physical education also seems to have a positive impact on children’s self-confidence because when you feel more physically fit, you feel stronger and more confident.
We encourage our girls to embrace physical activity and to strive to be their healthiest. TheVoices for Healthy Kidsinitiative aims to foster a national conversation about the need to ensure quality physical education as a part of every child’s education.
Throughout 2017, they’re aiming to deliberately and consistently insert the need for expanded PE into the national dialogue to push for changes in the states and communities where change is most needed and where clear opportunities exist.
Under ESSA (the federal education law), all states must develop a comprehensive plan to ensure all students receive a fair, equitable, and high-quality education. Unlike previous federal education law, ESSA includes physical education (PE) and health as part of a “well-rounded curriculum” this means that for the first time ever, health and PE have access to significant federal funding!
But here’s the caveat: inclusion of health and PE in ESSA is not a mandate. We need to advocate for daily PE to be included as a core component in ESSA plans so that money can be accessed for PE. If PE is not included in the plan, it won’t have access to funding. 95% of parents with children under the age of 18 think PE should be part of the school curriculum for all students K-12. I agree. Children need PE, as often as possible.
Having your first baby (or any baby) comes with excitement at all the firsts. You can’t wait to take care of your sweet baby and even things like breastfeeding seem magical. Even though sometimes it’s not as easy or as magical as we anticipate. Breastfeeding offers various benefits for you and your baby so if you can do it, I’d recommend giving it a try. It provides the ideal nutrition while preventing the risks of developing diseases. It also helps restore your uterus to its original size and reduces your risk of falling sick or depressed. But in all honesty, it’s not always easy and moms frequently find breastfeeding uncomfortable and sometimes painful. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to give up. However, it’s a great way to bond with your baby, one of my personal favorites and, for me, it was worth the work but it’s different for everyone. If you do want to give breastfeeding a try, here are some tips to help new moms get the best breastfeeding results.
Provide ample support for your body
Breastfeeding can be stressful or unpleasant if you’re not positioned comfortably. Therefore, you’ll find it helpful to support your body for the best experience. You can invest in a chair with substantial support for your arms and back. It’s also helpful to place your legs on a footstool, coffee table, or stack of pillows to create the perfect balance. If sitting down to breastfeed isn’t for you, you can also make yourself comfortable on your bed. As a tip, rest your back on many pillows for the needed support.
Invest in a good nursing bra
You’ll find that your regular bra may not be so comfortable. Due to their structure, you may have to take your bra off when breastfeeding. Moreover, the texture of your regular bras can feel irritating or compound the pain in your sore nipples. Fortunately, nursing bras are specially designed to enhance comfort when breastfeeding. These options enable you to nurse without removing anything and can accommodate your breasts, no matter how engorged they are. Therefore, investing in maternity bras is essential, so keep this in mind.
Determine the proper breastfeeding position
Admittedly, there is no right or wrong way to hold your baby while breastfeeding. However, some positions may be less pleasant than others. Therefore, determining the right options is essential. Fortunately, several breastfeeding options are available, and you can choose what’s best suited for you. For instance, the cross-cradle hold is excellent for feeding newborns and babies with latching difficulties. This position supports your kid’s shoulders and head when sucking. However, avoid holding them around the head to prevent a shallow latch and sore nipples. Another position you can consider is the reclined position, where you place your baby on your tummy or chest. Instinctively, your baby will work its way to one of your breasts. The skin-to-skin contact also stimulates their feeding instincts, so keep this in mind. Fortunately, you can research the various breastfeeding positions online for a more informed decision. It may take a while but you will find one that best works for you and your baby. Believe me, I feel like I tried every position there was, in fact, I may have created a couple but in the end, the girls were full and that’s the most important thing.
Drink water regularly
You’ll discover that you get thirstier when breastfeeding. This is normal, as your body releases oxytocin to remind you to get enough water to produce breast milk. While drinking more water than is necessary won’t increase your milk supply, dehydration can reduce how much you produce. Moreover, you risk having mood swings, low energy, and poor skin health. Therefore, it’s important to drink water regularly for the best results. I kept my ½ gallon Hydro Jug by my side and it reminded me to keep drinking and I’ve never stopped. Experts advise taking a glass of water before or during breastfeeding and consuming cucumbers, watermelons, oranges, and other fruit with high water content. You can also improve your water’s taste by adding small juice amounts. However, avoid excess caffeine and alcohol when breastfeeding.
Eat enough calories
When I was breastfeeding, I was hungry so remember to feed yourself, as well as, your little one. One cool and delicious snack that a lot of new moms like to snack on is EZMILK trail mix for moms. I wish they had it around when I was breastfeeding, it would have made things a lot simpler. It’s a natural, filling trail mix for breastfeeding & nursing moms made with just 5 ingredients, including almonds, raisins, organic pumpkin seeds, organic watermelon seeds and fennel seeds to help support a mom on her breastfeeding journey. Nourishing and delicious, EZMILK is naturally free of gluten, grain, dairy, soy, added sugars and fenugreek. It’s perfect to help curb mom’s hunger cravings while breastfeeding and the pouch can be kept within easy reach for a quick snack!
What’s your best tip to help new moms get the best breastfeeding results?
Two teenage brothers, Justin,15, and Dante, 17, Robinson, have been charged with allegedly murdering of 12-year-old, Autumn Pasquale, who disappeared while riding her BMX bike. After a 48-hour search for Autumn Pasquale, investigators found her body stuffed into a recycling bin behind a vacant house next to the one where the boys lived with their family. These sociopaths beat her, strangled her and stuffed her into the bin like a piece of garbage. This was someone’s little girl. (more…)
