you heard it here fi-second.

 I've hit the breaking point. The point where I just can't take it anymore. The point where something has to change or I'm going to lose my mind. This is embarrassing. This is going to be raw and honest and painful. If you get to the point where it's just too awkward, stop reading. In fact, if you don't want to experience some intense awkwardness and bearing of soul, head back to facebook and chill there for awhile. I'm not writing this for the approval of anyone. Anyone. I'm writing this for me. To have it located somewhere a little bit permanent. I can't get a tattoo, so this is like the next best reminder for me. I'll start from the beginning.

My life started to change in the MTC. 2009 was a big year for me. I entered the mission field in August of that year, and the Philippines were, up to that point, the best thing that's ever happened to me. I experienced independence like I've never known, having to rely on my instincts and intuition, and making grown-up decisions. All my time was focused on other people, and I was happier than I'd ever been in my life. I had been steadily gaining weight since the MTC. When I got to the Philippines, that trend continued, and I decided to figure out what my mistakes were. Because with all the walking we were doing, there was no way, no way I couldn't be burning calories. The only thing I could think was that rice made me feel really heavy. Especially since we were eating it for every meal. So I had a "come to Jesus" talk with my companion, the cutest girl ever, who loved cooking, and loved for me to eat her cooking, and told her that I needed to be able to work to the best of my ability, and that meant eating the best that I could. I stopped eating rice from that point on. Friends and companions would call that sacrilege, but it's what I knew I needed to do. I also stopped eating their eggs cooked in oil, hot dogs, and other meats. I really only ate a diet of fruits, veggies, and wheat bread when I could find it.

The pounds melted off me. As well they should! I had never walked so much in my entire life, and this was an all day everyday deal. Miles upon miles a day, especially when our support was low and we didn't have money for trikes or jeeps. My legs could just keep going. And I know that was a blessing in order to do the work, but it was also the fuel that I was putting into my body. Aside from the occasional meal with members or investigators (you never, ever refuse the food they're sacrificing), I was essentially vegan. And it was great. And I just kept losing. The end of my mission neared, and I had lost a total of 45 pounds since leaving the MTC. I felt great, and I looked amazing. I was proud of the work I had done, and the fact that the Lord had blessed me so entirely.

I came home terrified. I know myself. I know my habits and thoughts and I was devastated with the idea that I would probably just gain all that weight back that I had lost. I made my way down to Southern California to be closer to my best friend, and to be close to P. when he got home. I ran 3 miles almost everyday, on top of eating hardly anything, just to be safe. When P. and I started dating, I was scared even more. Dating means going out to eat, and I didn't know if I had the will power to say no to amazing restaurants that he was introducing me to. We were pretty active with our dates, riding bikes, longboarding, playing at the playground, hiking, we went on tons of walks, and I didn't actually start gaining weight until I had to move back home with my parents in the couple months before we got married. It was slow to come back at first, and I was hopeful that I could keep it off. We got through our wedding and 2 receptions, and found our adorable cottage in Springville. I continued to run as much as I could, but all of a sudden, I was leading a hugely sedentary life. My new job as a receptionist became a blessing and a curse.

I was so grateful to have a job, and so glad to be able to contribute to paying our bills, and keeping our debt in check. But all those hours behind a desk started to add up. I was sitting for hours upon hours upon hours, and there was no end in sight (the end is only in sight now because school is offering me a way out). I became lethargic. And with the lethargy came depression. And with the depression came emotional eating. And with the emotional eating came the weight that I had been fearing and dreading since the beginning.

It was slow at first. I didn't really start to pack on the pounds until that first winter. It was painful to experience, and I'm sure it was painful to watch. P. was always supportive as much as he knew how to be. P. had never been overweight a day in his life, and I was susceptible to the way he lived. Eat all the foods!!! Things didn't start to really get out of control until 2012, and then I just kind of gave up for awhile. We went on vacation in the summer to Boise, and had a blast eating our hearts out. The fateful day in August came when I found out I was pregnant, and then I really just didn't care. Which is super messed up, I know. The miscarriage happened, and I just wanted to be numb. Food was my tranquilizer, and I was done caring what anyone else thought. I started running a little bit after it happened, and gave myself some wicked shin splints, the likes of which made it impossible not only for me to run, but to even walk at a normal pace. Can you say more depression?

In the beginning of 2013, I made more effort to heal myself emotionally than I ever have in my entire life. That meant wading through some pretty ugly stuff which has plagued me since...pretty much forever. I started working out hardcore. I was at the gym most nights, and P. and I were determined to be bikini ready (especially P. yay bikinis! haha) by our cruise and my best friend's wedding in July. Well, as all unfair things in life go, the pounds FLEW off of P. He could just think about dieting and start to slim down. I lost a total of 7 pounds. In 7 months. Even writing about it now, I can feel myself being so frustrated and ready to just end it all with an O.D. A chocolate O.D. 

I wasn't bikini ready by the cruise. Or the wedding. I still don't like looking at those pictures because I feel like a failure. How could 7 months of strict dieting and working out still not have given me what I wanted?? I still don't have the answer. I wish I did. But I'm still not willing to give up. I know what healthy feels like. I know what healthy looks like, and I'm determined to get back there. Here's the basis of what I've decided: Between my genes, my health in general, my thyroid, and the life that I want, I can't ever be one of those people who just eats whatever she wants. I can't eat sweets. I can't eat bread (it's one of my biggest weaknesses). I can't eat dairy (it's all horrible for you anyway). I can't drink soda. And this is my life. And the reason I'm okay with "giving up" all these things is that I want to live an amazing life. I want to be able to drop everything and go on an adventure, and be fit enough to not have to think about whether or not I'll actually survive said adventure. I want to be able to go to the Philippines after a natural disaster and not think twice about whether I'll actually be of any use, or if I'll just be dying in a tent somewhere because I can't handle not eating. I want to not only be able to take care of my kids and keep up with them, but I want them to remember their childhoods as being active and full of fun and adventure that their mom was always a part of. I want to eat to live instead of living to eat. I want to experience being hungry, and being okay with it. I want to be able to run again, and I know that when I can get healthier, the shin splints will go away. If I look at all the amazing things I can gain from changing my life this way, it doesn't really seem like I have to give up much. 

I'm not naive. I know I am completely addicted to sugar. I know I don't have a lot of time on my hands for food preparation, and I know this won't be easy, it won't be overnight, and I'm going to get so frustrated that I'll want to quit all the time. But I'm taking my life back. I'm taking me back from the natural man I've become, and making myself available for all the incredible opportunities that come my way that I can't currently take advantage of. I'm excited to be able to be the real me. The one who loves sports and being outdoors, and hiking, and being in a swimsuit. This is me declaring so that everyone will know, and everyone will hold me accountable, and everyone will be supportive, and understanding, and help me change my life: I'm that girl. The one that never eats sweets or fast food. I'm the one reaching every single one of my goals, not just physical, but emotional, spiritual, and mental as well. I feel like Rapunzel leaving her tower. I'm leaving the old me behind. Here I go.