I am having more fun trying to push myself farther and farther.
On Sunday I headed out to the drop zone to meet up with Natalie and Kim to do our 2nd dive that weekend. It would be my third dive in total.
After my second jump from the plane I hurt myself. I don’t know what I did to cause me to lose feeling in my right hand, but I dealt with it so I could pull the chute and learn the navigation in. It was more annoying than painful.
In the second jump there was more for me to learn and Jeff wasn’t going to let some stinking pinched nerve get me out of what he had to teach me. “Lets gets the direction of the wind and find the drop zone.” I turned the chute around to the East and felt our bodies stop moving. “got it.” I looked around to find the drop zone and was disappointed that it was that close. I wanted to be way far away so I could spend more time in the air. Being cute and adorable I recited the t-shirt I had been reading all weekend, “Jeff…swooping is not a crime.” He laughed and showed me how to swoop. My body responded to the spinning and diving and I couldn’t control my child like giggling. “Oh man, you are trouble!” I think he might have a sense of relief that he isn’t going to be my AFF instructor!! He did agree that after I am certified he will dive with me. I’m sad that he won’t be strapped to my back anymore after this, but grateful that he was so professional and fun and was insistent about making sure that each dive I learned something and mastered it.
This last month has been one of the best things that ever happened to me. It feels like all the things that mattered before are just slipping away. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said, “I don’t care…whatever…that shit don’t matter anymore.” And I’ve realized how important it is to have boundaries in my life. I’ve spent too much time letting people be a part of my life without boundaries. I’m not angry at people because the life I had before because I didn’t show people how I wanted to be treated. That would have required me knowing what really mattered.
So what matters now? Being honest with everything that I am feeling. Being present in every single minute of this life. Not even thinking about the ‘what ifs’. Laughter caused by being alive. God that laughter is fantastic! Just letting go.
I believe that this July would be rough. It marks the month that I got very sick. It also marks my anniversary and also our first marriage counseling meeting. After the month of June being what it has and all that I have done and seen…July is just another month. Do I expect a phone call or an “i’m sorry”? No. Do I care? Not really. He didn’t. And I have never been more grateful that someone could care less about the outcome of our life together. So grateful!!
From July 2nd 2009 to December 28th 2009: I promise to myself, my kids and my friends to make up for those exact dates from last year. All the stuff that has happened in the last few months was just getting us to this point.
On Wednesday I was driving home from work and thought that another ride on the motorcycle might be fun, but then realized it wasn’t as thrilling as it could be if I actually drove it myself. Knowing I have to wait for the Ninja to be finished, there was going to be no way that Dan would let me actually drive off on his bike, I tried to think of something as fun.
Maybe it was the way the sun was shining through the windshield or a song on the radio, but I said out loud, “I’m jumping out of a plane.”
About 14 years ago I paid for Dan to go ski diving. I knew for a week he was going and I decided to make it a surprise. Each time I thought about him doing it, it made me physically ill. The first thought was the plane so far in the sky and then my stomach would lurch thinking about him jumping out of it. The hours before his jump my head was spinning and I was sure that he would die and leave me a widow. When it was over, he was smiling and swearing he would do it again. He made it out alive and in my opinion, he was NEVER going to put me through that again.
I picked up the phone and started to call Dan to see if he would want to go with me. Wait! What if something happened to both of us? Who would raise the kids? Bad idea. Let’s call…and I went through my phone list. NO ONE would jump with me.
“Are you freaking nuts?” “OH HELL NO!” “Seriously, are you retarded?” Cita was the only one that said she might go.
Okay then. I shall go on my own!
I found out that a friend of Ruka and mine was going to be in town for the weekend.
“Nat, you wanna jump out of a plane with me on Sunday?”
“ABSOLUTELY!” I waited for the “not” to follow and when it didn’t I squeeeeeeled with excitement. I was certain she might puss out on me, but I put down the 25 bucks to do it anyway.
For 4 straight days I had that nervous excitement stirring in my stomach. “Holy shit. What am I thinking?” would cross my mind about 5 times a day. Each time it would be followed up with a big grin and a burst of laughter. “I’m DOING IT!”
This morning when the alarm went off, I grabbed the nearest clothes and asked the girls if they wanted to go.
“Mom it’s 6 in the morning….we will watch the video when you get home!” the little ones said.
I’ve never seen Kara move so fast, “I’m not missing this!”
I was waiting for the normal Kristine to surface and talk this crazy Kristine out of this madness. I guess at six in the morning, crazy Kristine runs the show.
We got to the airport and joined our class for the hour of instructions. I can break down the instructions to 15 seconds:
1. Arch your body when you jump and deploy the chute.
2. Tuck your legs in.
3. Hold on to your harness when you jump.
4. When you get to 6,500 feet, pull the cord.
Out of the five things on that list you will only remember one. Smile.
We got to our gear on. I heard my instructor tell me the five things again and I shook my head as if I was really listening to what he was saying. “Got it. arch, hold on, tuck, smile. LETS GO!”
The plane was going to be the biggest obstacle to this whole ordeal. Here was a plane on the ground. The plane was going to go way up in the air. We were going to leave the plane behind. STUPID.
I got on the plane and waited for the, “tell me there is a bathroom I can go to and hurl in.” moment. It never came.
Then the door opened at 13,000 feet.
“Someone opened the fucking door!” I state the obvious to the people on the plane.
“That’s part of what you pay for.” Natalie’s adorable instructor laughed. “She said that you’re going first.”
Damn right I was.
I eagerly made my way to the huge hole in the side of the plane, put on my goofy goggles, grabbed my harness and jumped out of the plane.
Waiting…waiting…waiting…where was that feeling in my stomach? It wasn’t there. No Fear. I had none. I was just falling and it was the most beautiful feeling I have ever felt in my whole life. The world was spinning around and around and I was trying to do everything in my power to not start laughing. HOLY SHIT, I just jumped out of a plane! Every time I thought about it, I would smile and all the air in the world would rush into my mouth.
My instructor tapped my hand to remind me to check where we were. We were already at 7,000 feet and in less than a few seconds I would have to end the fun and pull the cord that would save my life.
I reached down and when I thought I had no strength left inside of my body, I pulled the cord and all the sound fell away and I was floating.
“Well?” my instructor leaned in. “were you scared?”
“Not even for a second!” I needed an explanation for this madness!
“Oh no…you know what that means? You’re one of us.” He explained to me that there are people that will jump once or twice in their life. They would show the video to anyone that will watch it and then be able to say they went ski diving. Then there was people like me that will spend all their spare time getting certified so they could dive alone.
That thought gave me that butterfly feeling. “YES!”
Ski diving was my biggest fear in the world. It’s stupid, reckless, immature. Why would anyone even think of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane?
Now I truly feel there isn’t a thing in this world I can’t do.
I’m going back in 2 weeks to do it again. ‘Cita is joining me. Nat is flying from Portland again to do it too.
I was re-reading my 2009 goals: “Once upon a time there was this woman who loved her life…let’s go find her again. If we can’t find that woman, let’s fall in love with the new woman that is on her adventure to get back to good.”
Forget that woman...this woman is so much more amazing and I am falling more in love with her every single day!
I had to reset all my passwords and like a total dork, forgot them.
It took a few hours, but I found them and now I can’t remember what it was that I was going to say.
In the great delete of 2009 (deleted 19, 873 pictures) I also deleted all my mail. I now have lost all the requests for the other place I write at. Soooo, if you’re mad at me for not giving you the email…just email me again.
Things are going alright. My weekends are busy as I realized that being at home is what I would guess HELL feels like.
Cita and I found this awesome place to go have breakfast on the weekends and I would give my left arm to not miss it.
I booked a rafting trip in a few weeks. Every time I have gone I have enjoyed myself so much and that is exactly what I want.
Ruka is killing me with her, “I’m going run THIS …and this…and THIS one too!” so I am having to train harder and harder to keep up with her. So far she has two she’s running and that means, I have two I am following her in.
Two miles a night isn’t bad, but according to this person I run with that I met about 2 weeks ago, “You have to push through to the fourth mile! Tonight we shall run HILLS!” This is coming from someone who had knee surgery recently so I can’t exactly complain, “Yeah, well my heart was ripped out of my chest and stomped flat.” without feeling like a wussy, so I keep running. How that person keeps talking during running, I will be glad to know.
It’s strange when you start running you realize how many other people do it too. Honestly, I think it’s the most moronic thing in the world. I run. I run. I run. I don’t get anywhere. Last week I was tempted to not go, but I realized it wasn’t the running I needed, but the structure of doing it every night. Oh, and I run like a girl. A girl with no balance what so ever. I actually SWERVE while running. Last night I tripped over a dog. True words. Not just saying that to make you laugh. Big Doberman got in my way.
Work is going good. The drive is a pain in the ass. I have moved on from the Spanish stations to music on my Ipod (thanks Maria for the charger!). There is music I still don’t listen to, but that might come back in time. It’s still the angry, I hate you, die, die, die variety, but at least I understand what they are saying.
AND OH MY GOD…I rode the motorcycle again! I had my first lesson in actually driving it myself.
Wanna hear my progress? Good. I can start it, put it in gear, stand it up right.
Next up, getting brave enough to put the kickstand up.
Today our two year anniversary. Today is also the day I made our first marriage counseling appointment.
No one puts on their wedding dress and thinks, ‘In two years from today, I am going to be making an appointment for counseling.’
No one expects the “Happy Anniversary” email to be followed up with an email for a therapists.
I know, I’m suppose to be happy today. This day is suppose to mean something, be an accomplishment. It just feels sort of hollow. And this is where I pep talk myself into saying, “this is a journey and it’s a rough one and you have to work for it and life is hard…’ and all the other stereotypical expressions that have stuck to the wall all these years.
Thinking back to my first marriage and the final days of excepting the fact that it wasn’t going to work was the same phrase running over and over, “I’m going to be ‘divorced’. My kids are going to come from a ‘broken home’. My kids were going to say, “our parents are divorced.” and all those words felt so dirty and the thought of them saying them broke my heart into a billion pieces.
When I finally excepted the fact that I was going to ‘re-marry’, another ‘bad word’ in my vocabulary, I guess I figured it was going to be ‘right’. I mean, if I screwed up the first one so badly, maybe it wasn’t meant to be and the grand plan, big picture of things this one was my do-over and because I had walked through the fire and survived it, this one was going to be easy and right.
God, I am so young and naive. I figured people that got married the second time around really had all the answers and that marriage would last forever. Then of course you hear about second marriage ending and you rationalize those; ‘got married to soon.’, ‘got married for the wrong reason.’, ‘too much baggage’… they are damaged and should stay single then.
Yes, again…young, naive and let’s add stupid to the mix.
Are there people out there that don’t live in their head all the time? Do people not sit and get so twisted in the responsibility of being themselves that they want to vomit?
You know those commercials for like, Tide or Bounce when they have the white sheets hanging on the line and the wind is blowing through them and there is that woman standing in the middle? She’s probably wearing white capri’s and a bright yellow shirt. She’s a perfect size 10 and she’s holding up her arms and spinning around in circles with a big smile on her face?
To understand what it’s like to be in my head take that scene, make the woman not so svelte, hair in a pony tail, voices of children yelling at dogs and each other and instead of standing there spinning with a smile on her face, she’s caught in the sheets and thrashing around. She knows in order to be able to get out she’s going to have to slowly unwind from the sheets, but the more she turns and pulls, the more one sheet overlaps with another. At the end of the day, when the sun has gone down and instead of the sheets nicely folded in a wicker basket by the door… The backyard is a cold mess of sheets, dog prints and a very exhausted woman still caught in there somewhere…sobbing.
And why did I stop taking medication?
I’ve now got to call my ex-husband and tell him to quit telling the children about our finances because Shea came in and informed me that Dad should get a break on child support because he has them more than when the court ordered. SHE IS TEN.
“No one said it would be easy, but no one said it would be this hard “- Sheryl Crow
After a phone call from my mortgage company informing me YET AGAIN they have screwed up my loan modification, Shaun insisted that I wasn’t going to crawl under the covers and cry like a baby.
It’s been four months of hell dealing with this company. I started out indignant that I was right and they were wrong. Then the letters saying, “Yo, chick…we own you…bend over and take it and like it.” I decided that I better just buy the bottle of KY and let it begin. After fire and hoops we came to an agreement. For the last month I have finally felt like things were on the right track. I spoke the lady that was the head honcho in charge of the deal. She said, “Whoops, we messed up. No worries, we will fix this.”
I then get a call a few days later from another guy saying, “No way, Jose chicky poo. You gotsta pay us MORE now. You didn’t fill out the paper work and send it to us.”
This is where I stop dead in my tracks and said, “Are you fucking kidding me? You have my testicles in your hands and all I have to do is sign a paper and mail it back and you’ll release the jewels and my house doesn’t get foreclosed on and you THINK FOR A SECOND I DIDN’T MAIL THAT SHIT BACK!?”
The part about my testicles might have thrown him off a bit, but he checked the records and low and behold, I WAS RIGHT. I did mail it in.
Now today I get YET ANOTHER CALL saying, “Yeah, well that didn’t go through because of an installment that wasn’t made.”
I then had to go into great detail of all the fire and all the hoops I had to jump through for the last few months. She tells me, “Yeah, that didn’t go through…we are going to need to do this all over again.”
I couldn’t even cry. I felt like I had been kicked over and over and it didn’t matter how much mental distress this company had caused me in the past few months…because they had me by the balls. I know, I don’t have balls, but damn it, it sure feels like I do.
They say, “Jump” and I say, “How High?” and no matter how high it is, it’s just not good enough.
My stress level right now is through the roof. How I managed to walk out of the house and find a smile for Shaun to take a picture of, is beyond me.
Michelle sent me a necklace for my birthday, it says, “BREATHE” I had to keep reminding myself to do just that today. And tomorrow when they call me back, I will have to remember it again. And for all the phone calls they will keep making to me, BREATHE.
Do they make a necklace that says, “Bend over, the mortgage company is calling” ?? I need one of those too.
I have been working on a website for what seems like a life time. The actual putting it together part was a 18 hour straight endeavor. Kudos to those of you that do this EVERY DAY OF YOUR LIFE. There wouldn’t be enough Captain Morgan to keep me sane. And how do I put a website together with Shaun’s stunning good looks and chiseled body just out of reach? No right-thinking woman should have to work in such conditions.
So after hours and hours of installing programs,deleting programs, installing programs. peeing. screaming at the laptop. screaming at the people at godaddy through my monitor and scaring Shaun with my freaky, quiet, half whisper/half chanting monologue I had with myself. It’s finally finished.
I know, I know…”Kristine with her crazy websites and grand ideas of doing things…” I want to say ‘this one is different!’, but the reality of it is; it might not last more than a month. *shrug* Who knows, it will be fun while it lasts.
Remember those paper filled things with handwritten words on them?
** Updated — It took several hours to get the nerve up to do it, but here it is. No make up. No fancy clothes, no talented photoshopping. Me. Right now. ***
I want a change. I have wanted to change for as many times as I have opened up a magazine and something as innocent as a woman looking normal in a pair of jeans jumped out at me.
I want to be comfortable. I don’t need to be thin, hot, smokin’ MILF. I just want to be comfortable.
So, I am going somewhere I have never gone before. Posting pictures of my transformation, which I have limitted to no more than 120 days. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life trying to get where I need to be.
After talking to my doctor, getting my ‘frame’ size, my health history and a battery of upcoming blood tests. My ideal weight would be 153 pounds. I would love to say, “I want to weight that for my birthday…let’s stop eating!” I’m smart enough to know that rapid weight loss isn’t healthy. If I set my time line at 120, that means I am going to lose 7 lbs a months (that sounds SOOO slow) in a healthy way.
People have suggested wanted to join me on my mission and OF COURSE, you’re welcome to. You don’t have to be as painfully as honest and open about it as I do. No one is asking you to do what I am going to do. I know, in my Flickr stream, you only see pictures of me that don’t make me look like I was raped by the Michelin Tire Man. This is going to change.
I’m sure the “You’re Smokin’ Hot” comments will be replaced with, “HOLY CRAP! HOW DID YOU HIDE ALL THAT??”
PLEASE, PLEASE…talk to a doctor, find your HEALTHY target weight, DO THIS RIGHT…don’t be stupid like I have been in the past with trying to lose weight.
This HERE is where I will keep a daily photo log of the 120 day transformation. I’m starting today (*gulp*)
Today’s photo not uploaded yet.It’s Uploaded now. Follow my transformation over there.
I’m sure I will post SOME of the transformations I am going through, but for the most part it will be centered on my Flickr site under the pictures.
*scary face* I’m nervous. It’s one thing telling you my weight, but SHOWING you? wow.
I know I’m not alone though, and that makes me feel better.
Oh, and I can joke about my weight, you can joke with me..I’m pretty thick skinned (and I have a lot of thick skin! -hee he)
Shaun watched over my shoulder as I changed my layout again.
“Why that picture?” he asked.
“It’s how I feel.”
All I can say, is that is how I am feeling right now.
Saying that I am ‘depressed’ isn’t easy for me. It’s taken me a long time to admit that I had anxiety. I think it’s going to be harder to admit that I have ‘depression’.
Tyler and I have been battling through this cough and cold. Yesterday when he got home from school we were both coughing. It was funny at first because I would cough, and then he would cough. For awhile I thought we were having a ‘coughing war’. Later that night I could hear him coughing in the living room and I was in the bedroom coughing.
Today I asked him if his neck was hurting. He told me no and I explained to him that my neck was in so much pain. He said to me, “Well, maybe it’s because your down..like..forever.”
You know that commercial where it says, “Who does depression hurt? Everyone.”? Yeah…He sees it and doesn’t know how to confront me about it.
Kara leaves me text messages telling me she loves me. Alyx crawls in bed with me and cuddles, trying to find a place in my world that she can connect with me.
And now I am going to say it; I need help. I need support. I can’t do this alone.
The battle with anxiety is at bay. The control I have over it is manageable and knowing I can go into a situation I wouldn’t normally be able to handle is a feeling I can’t explain. It’s not gone, but damn it…I got a grip.
This new thing; the feeling of despair and sadness is indescribable. If you have it, you could probably put it to words better than I can.
My dearest, sweetest, most loving husband…you can’t fix this. I know that is the most horrible thing to say to someone who spends 18 hours of his day making sure that at the end of the day, things are resolved or in the process of being fixed.
I swear, I believe there isn’t anything you can’t make all better because you are the voice of reason, everyone’s rock and the first person people come to when they need advice.
Just start with listening when I need talk. Don’t talk. Just listen.
When I say, “PINEAPPLE” just know it’s time to call the doctor and figure out what they can do STAT.
Until then, everyone just bear with me.
My mother is doing good. She didn’t have a stroke, but they were worried that she had. They ran some tests and sent her home after she checked out fine.
It didn’t stop me from driving up there so I could run my fingers through her hair and cuddle with her.
Today we talked on the phone and she said, “I need to get better so we can do more stuff.” I agreed. WE need to get better so we can get back to doing our ‘Mother, Daughter & Daughter’ things we use to do.
Awhile back I had a conversation with my mom about ‘owning’ what belongs to us. The choices that we make our ours and it doesn’t belong to anyone but us. Be they good choices, we can say, “Hey, that was something I did. I own that.” or be it bad, we have to own up to and say, “Yeah, that was stupid. I own that. I am not going to blame that on anyone, but me.”
It seems like I am always in this circle of ‘chasing my tail’. I get one thing settled and then another one comes up and bites my ass. The chasing of my tail starts again.
Today I sat back and divided out what belongs to me and what belongs to other people. It’s astounding how much of my problems can be fixed with just a change of thought processes. A simple, “That is mine. I own it.”
Shaun and I haven’t really been together THAT long. It’s taken a long time to realize that in order to make our lives what we want it to be, we need to be on the same page about everything. When you’re involved with someone, you have to really sit back and say, “Alrighty, that is HIS…he owns that.” and sometimes where we have to say, “That’s OURS, and we need to fix it.”
Last year we decided that we are not only on the same page about certain things, but we were going to write the book on how things need to be in our lives. I’ve screwed up 400 times in the process. He has screwed up at least 800 times in the process. At times we try to stab each other with the pens we are writing the book with. Ultimately, we decided as husband and wife what we were going to do with the situations we had in front of us. A united front. Some people would love the idea, some people would hate it. It didn’t matter what anyone thought of it; not my family, nor his. If you loved the idea, GREAT. If you didn’t like the idea, that was fine too…but respect that is a choice we made together.
When I talked to my mother about ‘owning’ the choices we had made in the past and make in the future, she was on board. Since that conversation, she hasn’t brought up the bad things that happened to us. I even have taken steps to repair a relationship that was strained with my father.
I don’t agree with some of the things that happened between my mom and dad. It doesn’t mean that I can’t love them both.
They each have their mistakes. They each own those mistakes. They are not mine. I am lucky enough to be the daughter of those two wonderful people. They are smart enough to know that I am an adult and the problems that they have had with each other doesn’t belong to me. The joy of being able to spend time with each of my parents and not have to hear the Bullshit about the other one; it makes me realize…the choice I made is the right one.
My father knows if he at any time asked me to choose him over my mother, he would be minus a daughter.
My mother knows if she asked me to pick her over my father, she too would be minus a daughter.
Because of this, I know I have the love of both of my parents.
Thank you guys for respecting the choices that I have made.
I was looking up ‘detoxing’ the other day on the internet, because of something ‘Cita had said about metals in our body. For some reason it got me into looking into different types of detoxing and many of them include taking things that require you to have stomach cramps and poop all the time.
As mentioned many times before, I have no poop problems, so the thought of pooping MORE, just sucked.
I was reading and reading about the things we need to get out of our system. Caffeine, Nicotine, Drugs….HELLO, all my favorite things.
It also talked about eating more fruit.
I’m guilty, I don’t eat fruit. I would LOVE to be a fruit eater, but I’m not.
So yesterday I run off to the store with high hopes of buying all the right things. I had ran out of coffee and Cigs the night before, so what a fantastic time to start cleaning up my body right?
I walked my ass right past the coffee isle and bought yogurt and fruit juices. THEN…right there…in a big display…shiny and singing…was my Coffee Mate Pumpkin Spice flavoring. I actually SKIPPED over to the display and sniffed the bottle.
AND this is where I think I have a problem. I make excuses…and this one was a doozy. “I’m going to buy this because it’s the only time of the season that you can. I’m going to get the smallest bag of coffee possible. Come on, I need to baby step my way to being a better person. I can’t just stop smoking, drinking coffee and then start pooping for 7 solid days! It’s unheard of!”
This morning I made a very small pot of coffee, ate a yogurt and had a tangerine (working my way up to a full orange) and then I poured half the coffee mate into my cup and drank it like it was sent from heaven above.
Why, why, WHY do people decide that right around Thanksgiving & Christmas it’s the time to diet?
Regardless of my weaknesses, I am going to stop drinking soda and drink water and juice instead. I’m adding the fruit part of the triangle to my diet.
Mango juice isn’t too bad. Sort of squirmy, but not too bad.