Detour

My sister is a survivor of workplace violence.  This week at her office, a Columbine situation occurred in which 2 of her good friends were shot.  She works at a small company, and everyone knows one another.  She has been there for seven years - through the good times and challenging times.  This company  has been branded a top workplace in the city for several years in a row.  The people who work there go out for drinks after work at least once a week. People voluntarily hang out together in her company.

On Thursday, my sister's colleague/boss had a meeting with her in the morning where they joked, talked about upcoming plans, and had a nice time.  Allegedly, immediately afterwards, he then went shot the CEO in the stomach and head, and then himself in the head.  We haven't heard if there were a suicide note.  The CEO may survive.  He might be a vegetable.  We don't know at this point.

The colleague was a really nice guy who has been with the company 25 years.  He was staunchly publicly against guns, did not own guns, nor have a license for guns.  He was married and had 3 grown up children.  He was the developer and creator of the software the company sells & held Master degrees in psychology and computer science. He was a funny, sweet, nice, thoughtful guy.  In fact, when my sister talked about work, his name often came up in our conversations because he was a lot of fun & a reason she stayed there.

It has been a few days, and the same questions keep racing through my head throughout the day and especially in the wee hours of the morning.

What happened??? What would cause someone to completely derail like this? Where would he get the illegal gun?  Who was he?  How could he go from being Mr Jokey with my sister to a killer a few minutes later? How did this happen?  How did they miss the signs?  Was he in his right mind?  Could it have been the CEOs gun?  They supposedly struggled... how would the police know?

Then my thoughts descend further into bigger questions - Do we ever really know people? Do we know what people are capable of? Can I trust anyone?  Could I do something like this in the right situation?

I know I am not the most logical person in the world, being the INFJ that I am.  Sure, I usually make good decisions (J) but the NF is a dominant personality trait.  I look at Sofie in the midst of temper tantrums, and she is definitely NOT logical in those moments. Sofie will lash out, kick, scream, hit, scratch, bite, twist, spit, and act like a maniac if she doesn't get her way.  Do we ever lose that urge?  Is my perception of society really veiled with violence that I choose to believe doesn't exist?  On tough days at work, when I was going to cross fit, the trainers would bring out the lead pipes and tires so we could beat them until we are tired.  Is that the same urge that affected my sister's boss in his last moment?

Is it that guns make death too easily accessible in our insane moments?  If the guy had the option to bring a lead pipe to work instead, would he have beat him senseless?  Or would he use a knife in the workplace?

I am feeling haunted by these questions.  There is no real answer.

Of course we are at very low risk of having a life altering event occur at work.  Downsizing the organization always leaves an opening for retaliation.  As a manager within my organization, there have been a few times in which I was worried about the possible domino effect of making changes & possible outcomes by changing people around.  Luckily nothing ever happened to me (besides death threat phone calls and people stealing my hub caps).

So as I head into the next work week, I am sending many prayers for all the families affected by the tragic shooting.  For the CEO who might not live, his family, the shooter who will be remembered for this heinous act, his family, and all the staff at my sister's company who have to go back into the office and deal with the fact that the office was filled with blood and someone died an ugly death down the hall.  I hope they will survive, keep their jobs, and that no one will fall into the pit of despair.

Looking up

My ankle has been doing much better lately, and once I remembered the basic pain management protocol (don't let the pain get away from you) (thanks mom), I medicated, got it under control, and things are under control now.

I have been able to walk around with the boot more easily, and I even started being able to ride a stationary bike.  That part is really exciting.

Lately, Sofie has been struggling.  She has had a few changes to her life this summer - me breaking my ankles, changing from preschool to day camp, taking swimming lessons, having her Dad pay a lot of attention to me, her friends not being available like they were.  I think it is a lot to process, and the outcome is that she has a very short fuse & is quick to get angry in a second.  She has been overreacting to tiny things, and the tantrums seem to span days.  She also refuses to get out of bed, go to camp, talk... They are tough time.

Once she gets out of her dark place, she will talk to us about what is going on with her, but we don't seem to be able to temper her reaction with our discussions.  I hope that as I regain mobility & her life stabilizes with kindergarten that things will calm down.

Meanwhile, her tantrums are pretty amazing to experience.

Slow going

I am feeling blue today. My ankle has been hurting like crazy since the doctor released me to walk in the boot. Every step is agony in the joint and when I sit down, the pain doesn't lesson for hours. Painkillers don't make much of a dent in it, and I am beyond wits with what to so.

I called the doctor when it was so bad earlier this week, and they claimed it was normal. My physical therapist was kind of shocked & speechless with the swelling, but then said you should just ice it more.

I am afraid that something is really wrong. I am afraid that I will never walk again or run or dance. I will call again on Monday to discuss with the doctor's nurse - and it is just another 2 weeks away until I see the surgeon again.  I saw the X-rays. My bones looked like the were healed but then why does it hurt so bad?

Meanwhile, the hubby and Sofie are running around town without me and I feel so alone. My family is tired of talking to me on the phone every day (with me having so little changed from day to day) and my friends are busy running around.

I booked some trips for later this year to look forward to, but what if I can't walk?  Disaster.

Personal growth?

A couple months off work is a long time.

I would like to say that I spent my time well doing my non-moving hobbies like painting, playing music, reading, writing, meditating, planning for the future, etc.

However, I gorged on all the TV that I missed over the last 15 years - Firefly (ok rewatched), Freaks and Geeks, House of Cards, Fringe, New Girl, Orphan Black, Hot in Cleveland, Tree House masters ... And rejected a lot of the mainstream TV that people recommended - Breaking Bad (too violent & didn't like the characters), Orange is the new black (didn't like the characters), Once upon a time (wouldn't stream), dexter (too violent), Sherlock (just wasn't interesting to me), lilyhammer (didn't like the characters), and more ...  Oh, and I watched the World Cup with an avid football lover.

I also read a lot of books, both old and new to me, and did a lot of sleeping. I am not sure it was the most productive use of time, but it took me away from my troubles.

Yesterday I was finally released to start walking with a boot, and now that I started, I am in terrible pain again. I migrated back to the wheel chair & crutches this afternoon. Transitions are tricky.

The World Cup is wrapping up and I am set to start working from home again.  I guess this journey is wrapping up to a certain degree in the next few weeks.

I discovered some spirituality in this journey. I reconnected with my husband and daughter by living in the living room for 2 months. I discovered I have great friends who were amazingly supportive. I reconnected with old friends too.

I was forced to be more vulnerable than I have been since I was a child. I had a glimpse of what handicap and elderly people experience. It isn't pretty.

I still don't know what I want to do with my life (except be a wife and mom and friend). I do know I want to be healthy. And that is enough for now.

Healing & reason

Well, it's been about four weeks since I had the tragic fall. I am still not walking, and I am still not working. The days span for endless hours every day, and I am waiting for the enlightenment. Why have I gotten hurt? What was I supposed to learn? Why won't the pain stop? I just do not understand.

I usually think that things happen for the best. Maybe I don't understand the reason why now, but the reason will show itself to me later. The universe is supposed to be unfolding with perfect order and truth. And here I sit unenlightened. Alone. A burden on my family. Needy. It kills me. Everyone I know is working. Everyone I know has a life. And here I sit.

At the beginning, my friends  were very available to me. And one by one that interest has waned. It's not much fun to hang out with a cripple. I won't be able to drive for several months. We just finally got a handicap parking sticker for the car so that when my husband drives me to different appointments, we can park in the handicapped spaces and be able to get me on my wheelchair. We've been trying to park in normal spaces and it has been very challenging when people park next to the car. Anyway I'm getting off subject.

I am healing. My ankles are much stronger than They were a month ago. Resting all day is supposed to be good for me.

It's just hard to be vulnerable. It's hard to put myself out there. It's hard to know I'm not invincible. It's hard to know I can't do it all. That there are limits. Maybe that's what I was supposed to learn. Time will tell.

The misstep

I don't know if you heard what happened to me as I was standing on a street corner going out to dinner with my husband and Sofie. It was a beautiful evening, about 76° and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. We were waiting for the crosswalk to turn green and my heel slept on a little bump on the wheelchair ramp, and my foot folded and cracked. I try to save myself with the other foot but crashed to the ground. I made a noise and felt pain. I knew something was very very wrong and people rushed to my aid - both strangers and the couple who were supposed to meet for the first time.

When I got to the hospital, I learned I fractured one ankle in three places and sprained the other ankle tearing the ligaments from the bone. It was a disaster. I was hospitalized for a week (and has surgery). I came home a few days ago to a changed world.

I am unable to walk on either leg. I will be in a wheelchair for the next 3 to 4 months. I'm living on the first floor of our house with a porta potty, a wheelchair and a hospital bed. I've been told that I won't be able to drive for at least four months so I will be housebound for quite a while. It's unbelievable.

Sofie seems to have taken it in her stride. She accepts that mommy has a broken leg and she gives me extra special hugs and kisses. My husband has resigned himself to the fact that I need assistance for everything from going to the bathroom to changing where I sit. We have a half bath on the ground floor and I will not be showering/bathing for 4 months. He will pick up the shopping, cooks clean and arrange our day-to-day activities, and I feel so guilty that I'm unable to achieve anything.  The days with a sponge bath are the exciting ones. Actually, moving from bed pan to porta potty was my biggest achievement to date. It is a new world.

My friends have been outstanding. I am so incredibly grateful to those who have provided words of encouragement, who have come to visit me, who have sent their love and prayers across the world. I wouldn't be able to make it through without you. I found out that you can pay for nurses to come and visit your house, or physical therapists, or friends, and I think it must be so incredibly sad for people who don't have the incredible infrastructure that I have. I say a little prayer for these people now each evening knowing how hard it to survive.

As I sit here I really am wondering what I should be doing with this extra time. In a way it's a gift. I was wishing that I had more time to spend with my husband and Sofie, and I was wishing I had time to read books and spend more time on me. I never would've imagined that I could hurt myself so badly so easily and that I would be off for such a long period of time.

Should I be meditating? Should I be painting? Should I be playing music?or organizing my life? Should I be working on adopting another child? Writing a book? Scouting for jobs?

I really don't know the answer. I've gotten a lot of suggestions and none of them ring true. I have a vast blank canvas with multimedia and paints and brushes standing at attention. The light is perfect. The view is perfect. And I am blocked.

The answer should be clear and yet I find myself paralyzed on the edge of the abyss.

It is hard to really say what impact this is going to have in my life. I hope I'll keep my job. I hope I have the means to pay for this accident.

It is very hard to understand why did I get so hurt and why I'm having these issues. It's really astounding that such a minor fall could produce such extravagant results.

What am I projecting to the world that would reflect the collapse of my body?

Well meaning "friends"

I am fat.  Obese.  Twice the size that I ever would have imagined myself.

"How did this happen????" is what I ask myself when I see candid pictures of me that people take and post on Facebook.  When I look in the mirror, I don't see that girl. Ever.  I don't know if it is the lighting in the room, or the angle in which I view my face in the mirror every day.  Or denial.  Yes, it could be that.

Why am I talking about this?

I had an epiphany at lunch today, and I realized that people who know me professionally just think of me as the fat lady.  One of the ladies at lunch showed a picture of herself 20 years ago during college.  I had a couple pictures of me from that time, and they couldn't connect the picture of a healthy person to the person I have become.  They saw a thin girl and a fat girl and decided I must be the fat person.

I wasn't always fat.  I remember being 9 years old, and I did 2.5 hours of ballet 4 days a week.  I was a perfectly average little girl.  I was not slim, but I wasn't chunky either.  When I wasn't dancing, I was playing outside.  On holidays, my  uncle would see me each a piece of candy and tell me that I better not touch it because I would get fat like my mom.  I ignored him and ate the candy.

Then, the sickness of 1987-1989 occurred. I had pneumonia, bronchitis, sinusitis, asthma and allergies all rolled into one.  I was in and out of the hospital and on steroids for 3 years.  My face got really round, and I wasn't fat, but I definitely was puffy.  This is when my obsession with not getting fat started.  My family would make well-meaning comments about how I should watch what I ate.  I was definitely conscious as a tween that I was bigger than my fellow classmates.  Heck, I started to develop in 4th grade and was always conscious... but I made sure that I didn't gain too much weight... until high school, when my mom would say, "if only you could weigh...". I had a BMI of 23.  I did weight watchers. I did slim fast.  I ate rice cakes all day.  Eventually I got down to a BMI of 20.  But it was hard.  And I felt disgusted with myself for being so fat.

I went to college and gained the freshman 15.  I also blew out my knee completely and wasn't real mobile.  Not an excuse, but a definite challenge.  By the time I graduated I was back to a reasonable weight.  Since then my weight has oscillated back and forth like a pendulum, gaining more, losing less, gaining more, losing less.  I have also had long bouts of health issues & continue to have joint issues which sideline me for months.  I lived in a few places and tried Lean Bodies, Weight Watchers, Atkins, Southbeach, counting calories...

When I lived in Denver, I had a great trainer & was also blessed with good knee status.  I lost 60 pounds and was able to maintain an amazing life.  What was different? I was able to ride my bike a lot on trails.  I had a good personal trainer.  I didn't get injured.  I was relatively healthy.  I counted calories for that portion of my journey again.

Then I moved cities again, and immediately I blew out my already reconstructed knee with a new trainer.  I also had personal issues around that time and the weight packed back on immediately. Then I went on a Dr sponsored weight loss program. It was awful.  They had us eating 800 calories a day, and my entire system failed.  I couldn't go to the bathroom, I was tired and shaky all the time, I turned grey. I couldn't think. And I only lost 15 pounds over the 6 month period.  I was exercising 90 minutes a day and had severe calorie restriction, and it was so disappointing.

When we got Sofie, I was able to maintain the weight loss because we had an active lifestyle while I was on maternity leave.  Within a month of coming back to work, I had gained back 20 pounds...  And since then, I had another major illness with ~6 months of steroids/inability to breathe.

When I recovered, I started working out & dieting again.  Small portions.  Paleo.  Primal.  Looking at meat made me want to throw up.  Over 6 months I gained 80 lbs of muscle. Yes muscle.  The scale did not move.  At all.  Then I tore the cartilage in my good knee.  Then I injured my shoulder.  Then I injured my bad knee.  Then I got sick again. I am not making any excuses for myself.  But, bad stuff happened.  I gained about 10 pounds over the holidays.

I know I have challenges.  When I feel sad or stressed, I want to eat.  Most days I resist but some days I don't.  And I know I have to change.  I have read all the diet books.  I pour over all the nutrition articles I can find.  I have tried so many things.  All the different sources tend to contradict one another and it is hard to know what to eat (except for white food).

Getting back to my story .... so I was sitting at lunch today, and I have been inspired to try Dr Joel Furhman's "How to live for life" plan.  This morning, I brought this amazing, large salad with navy beans, beets, red pepper, a carrot, greens... It was beautiful, and I mentioned to my friend that I was doing the program for at least the next 4 weeks.

She says to me,
"Yes, you should really lose weight"
"Why eat so much salad? You are setting yourself up for failure"
"You know, you should try to reduce your portions"... "why not eat [friend chicken and tomatoes] that I am eating"
"You know, you shouldn't try to follow this plan..."
"You know, you need to exercise..."
"Why do you limit yourself?"
"If you had a reasonable plan, then I could do it with you"
"It's too hard for women to lose weight"
"If you had more will power you would do better"...

and it goes on and on and on and on.  I sat there in silence eating my vegetables knowing if I said one thing, this lady would no longer be in my life ever again.  Maybe that would be better.  I haven't decided yet.

Hello.  Yes.  I know I am fat.  Yes.  I have read the fricking books.  All of them.  I subscribe to so many blogs about nutrition and fitness and health.  I have worked with nutritionists.  I have tried behavior modification.  I have tried small portions. I have tried group therapy.  I know I need to work out.  I also know that due to my shoulder injury I can't lift anything, and I am struggling to walk because of my knee. I would love love love to work out.  My favorite thing in the world is working out.    I love feel of wind against my cheek when I am riding my bike.  I love to watch the birds dart through the trees and telephone wires while I walk.  I love the sound of my feet hitting the trail.  I love the smell of the gym and the anticipation of starting that first set.  I love doing core day and pushups and attempting pullups and feeling strong.  I love pushing a heavy sled and knowing I can do it.

I also know what I have been doing hasn't been working.  Somehow at the end of the day, I am completely unable to restructure my body.  I have read about what the constant yo-yo-ing does to your body, and I am there.

I need a body-reset & super-detoxfy to strip out the years worth of drugs I have consumed trying to get better.  I need to care for myself and give myself tools to heal.  I need to support myself and love myself and appreciate that I am who I am, no matter how much I weigh.  And I need to believe that I can do it.

I don't need you telling me I am fat.  Ever.