Confessions from a Thirty Something Momma

Have you ever had a Frenemy? I have. My frenemy is Fear. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. And for someone who is supposed to be a friend, no one has disarmed and crippled me quite like him.  I don’t know why I’m friends with him really. He whispers the promises of protection while in reality he leaves me shackled in chains. He pretends to have my best interest in mind, but the consequences of trusting him can be fatal to my heart. He’ll call himself my friend, all the while he’ll lie to get his way. He tells me the worst will always happen. No matter what I say or do. He’ll even go as far as taunting me with memories of past hurts, having me believe that if I follow his direction, I can avoid future pain. Some days I call him out. I expose him for the bully that he is. On good days, when I can see the truth clearly, I don’t believe the stories he tells me. On those days, his influence in my life is minimized and his attempts to intimidate me fail. Then ...

The long awaited day was finally here.   The Bride & Groom stood gazing at each other, hands clasped, in front of their family and friends. As they declared their love and promises to each other, excitement and confidence shone in their eyes. I took in the precious sight, leaned over to my husband, and whispered in his ear, “I’m so glad that’s not us starting from day one.” It was a very unromantic sentiment from a very grateful heart. My husband & I have just recently celebrated the eighth anniversary of our wedding day. The day that we stood before all of our family and friends and pledged to be committed to each other: through thick and think and through heaven and hell. We publicly promised to continue to make a decision to walk this life and marriage journey together. As we have walked this journey together, I have begun to think of marriage as a beautiful struggle. When I was single, I looked at married couples with longing and envy. I couldn’...

I woke up a little over 9 weeks ago and I knew something had to change. I’d struggled with my weight and emotionally eating issues for far too long and I was tired of it. I had hit rock bottom and was desperate to change my heart, my actions, and my eating. So for the past 9 weeks I have been working my fitness program of sorts. I’ve been eating healthy. I’ve been exercising 3 – 4 days a week. I’ve been checking in with my accountability partner and community. I’ve refrained from emotional eating. I’ve minimized “treats” and alcohol and “empty calories.”  In fact, when I started all these changes, my husband told me to take “before” pictures. I balked at the idea. I didn’t like seeing the evidence of my out of control eating in the mirror. The last thing I wanted was formal proof of it. But I did it nonetheless, albeit begrudgingly. So I took my photos, and I started doing the next right thing for me, day in and day out. In the beginning, pure will and drive were pushi...

It’d be fair to say I was off my game this week. Eating healthy felt like a drag. Exercising felt like hard work. I seemed to hit an unexplainable wall of resistance in my usual routine. I was bored. I felt apathetic. I did the things I needed to do. I just didn’t have any gusto when I did them. If I had to sum up my week in one word it’d be this: sloppy. And some weeks are just like that. Some weeks we don’t do or say or stick with the things we want to stick with. Other weeks we do but it feels like discipline instead of pleasure. Some weeks our hearts hum with joy and peace, and other weeks they are full of dread and anxiety. You know what? It’s OK.  It’s OK not to be OK.   I don’t think we hear that enough, e specially from ourselves. There are so many things we want to do. So many things we want to be. And there is so much pressure to do it all. Pressure to have it all. Pressure to do it “right.” Pressure not to fail. Sometimes all the pressure becomes th...