April Worst

April 2018:

I'll be honest with you, April was just the worst. Since September 2017 I have been training to become a Barrister within the legal system of England and Wales. Over the course of nine months I slaved (along with thousands of other Bar students) through thousands of pages of Criminal and Civil Litigation, Professional Ethics, Advocacy, Written skills, Conference skills and Judicial Review. This time last year I was due to be finishing my Bar exams. When I started things in my life were kind of just ticking along. Yes I had chronic migraines but they seemed under control and I was thrilled to be taking the next steps in my professional life. By February-March however, chronic migraines had taken over my life. I was permanently tired, in pain, stressed and anxious.

Chronic Migraines are defined as three or more migraines a week. I was routinely having five+ migraines a week. At the time of my bar exams I had had 21 migrainous days IN A ROW. None of the multiplicity of medications I had been prescribed by my various specialists had done anything. Actually, that's a lie. They HAD done something - a host of different side effects that meant that by the end of each course of medication not only were my migraines no better (in many occasions they were significantly worse) but I had gained an enormous amount of weight, had blood pressure so low that I frequently fainted just from standing up, was losing my hair and had crippling eczema (something I have never experienced) from head to toe. The weight gain brought on a serious depressive dip meaning that I spent most of my time in bed (whether from migraines or depression) which just helped to drop my mood lower and lower.

I want to just take a moment to express that it was not the weight itself that made my mood low, it was the loss of control over my life. Exercise and eating well had become my new normal, my comfort zones. Long gone were the days where I tucked in to a three pack of Krispy Kremes when I had had a bad day. I went for a walk/ run/ yoga/ ballet/ whatever, returned an hour or so later with a clear head and a fresh perspective. Gaining the weight back made exercise that much harder, the beta blockers I was on for my head made my exercise less effective and the associated low blood pressure problems meant that I was literally a ticking time bomb. I would leave each session with my PT Heather and would be sick, or have to sit in my car for half an hour at least to bring my blood pressure up enough to feel safe driving the seven minutes home. My migraines also meant that if I did ANY form of even remotely cardiovascular exercise my head would pound, I would have a migraine fog for 24-36 hours AFTER the proper migraine passed and during that time I was just useless. All of that meant that slowly, so slowly it was barely perceptible, I went from exercising in some form or another every day a week to being all but completely sedentary. The loss of control over my own life was terrifying.

Which brings us back to April and my Bar exams. Exam number 1, Drafting: I woke up in the morning, felt the now far too common pre-migraine, lay in my bed fearful of moving and wept. There was no way on the gods green earth that I was going to be able to do my exam. I tried getting up maybe an hour later, just to see if 'maybe if I eat something it'll go away?' Of course I knew it would not go away. Once it starts there is no stopping it and once I start thinking about how to get it to go away the more I worry and the more I fulfil the migrainous prophecy. I texted my mum (who was downstairs) saying that there was no way it was happening and I would have to apply for mitigating circumstances and defer until August. Neither of us were especially happy about this as we both knew that the sooner I got these high stress exams out of my way the sooner I could recover but we also knew that it was what had to happen. What followed over the next three weeks was a repetition of this morning, over and over. Some kind of unholy Groundhog's day. Let me tell you all, a migraine is no fun. A THREE WEEK migraine is enough to drive even the most well reasoned person to the verge of insanity.

I duly completed my forms, got the necessary medical support and waited for the confirmation. The wait was agonising - 'what if they don't grant my application?', 'what if it didn't arrive in time?!', 'what if I've fucked my chances of my chosen career?!?!' etcetera etcetera etcetera. When the confirmation emails arrived I cried with relief. I told myself I would be ready next time and I started planning my revision timetable anew, seeing a therapist, exploring different avenues and engaging in various homeopathic complementary therapies. Anything that might help. Hell I even got a specific part of my ear pierced in the hopes that it would help (more on this later).

As April ended I cried and railed against the world and hurt all over. I seriously questioned whether my life was worth living daily. This scared me. As a suicidal teenager I had told myself that the world would be better off without me. That I was a burden. That how I felt would never get better. As an adult who had come out on the other side I knew all of that not to be true. But being faced with chronic pain I had the same question go through my head time and again 'What if I am never free of pain again?' I wanted the world to stop. I wanted to be sedated so that maybe I'd have a moment's peace. I thought about ending my life not because I wanted to die but rather because I felt like I was no longer living. Even writing that feels pathetic. I know that there are countless individuals who do suffer and have suffered far far worse than I do but I have come to realise in the last year that suffering should not be a competition. I have found so much support from people who have suffered and have been able to be a support to others myself. In a perverse way, suffering is one of the things that brings people together. It is in the heart of suffering that we find our compassion.

As I close off this post I just want to send a message to anyone experiencing any kind of chronic or hidden illness. I see you. We see you. Your pain, your suffering, is acknowledged. I know how frustrating it is having people say 'oh but you look fine to me'. I know what it is to feel like you're an imposter for saying 'I'm not well' or to feel like you're taking up your doctor's time with a 'fake' illness because perhaps there's physiologically nothing wrong with you or the medical community is still unsure as to whether certain illnesses are 'real'. You know your body better than anyone else. Never let someone convince you otherwise. If something feels wrong you have to advocate for what your body needs whether by doing your research or asking for second or third opinions or simply exploring an alternative. The process of being heard is rarely fun; it can take a lot of time and energy, but when you find someone who DOES believe you and tries to find a workable solution, all that stress will have been worth it if for no other reason than someone else trusts what your body is telling you. Finally, it is vital that you do all you can to care for your mental health as well. There's no point pushing yourself to the breaking point trying to treat your physical health when that is detrimental to your mental health. I can't say that looking after my mental health sooner would have meant that I would have felt physically better sooner or at all, but caring for your mental health is a goal in and of itself and carries its own rewards.

525,600 minutes

Hi guys,

So, as you may have noticed, it has been over a year since I have last posted. I started and stopped writing at least a dozen times. Upon logging in today I saw five different notifications from Uncle Google telling me about EU regulations that have become established in the year since I last posted as well as a reminder of the many draft posts that I began only to abandon, just because.

I think before I actually start writing about anything in particular again I need to just lay out what has been happening in my life. For some of you (even my nearest and dearest) some of this will come as a surprise. If the information in the following posts does come to you as brand new information please understand, I didn't neglect to tell you because I don't love or trust you, I did it because some of this has felt like failure after failure and the embarrassment of even admitting it has been too much to bear.

I started writing these posts on the day I finished my Bar exams, a whole year to the day after I SHOULD have completed them. The reasons why it took an extra year and the associated feelings, stressors and anxieties will be made clear as I examine the last year in chronological order. Leaving my final exam I knew I should be feeling nothing but absolute relief, after all these exams have been plaguing me for over a year! However, what I really felt was confusion. I have lived with the stress and the pain and the anxiety for so long that I genuinely had no clue how to feel, what to be stressed about and just what to do with myself. It's a sorry state of my existence that even when the stressor was gone I couldn't just relax.

The good thing about leaving that exam is that in the weeks leading up to it I had started to see more of my life. Everything had become tunnel vision. My future was exactly this: exam, pupillage, career. The peripheral elements of life (where I'm going next weekend, the wedding I'm attending, holidays, hobbies etc.) had just stopped coming to mind. I could see only that very narrow, very stressful, tunnel. I take comfort in the fact that I decided I wanted to get back to writing and take back control in my life BEFORE the exams were over. As you will see, this is an enormous step for me. I want to use this space now as I regain my enjoyment of the things that used to make me me and try new things on the road to better overall wellness. But first, I have to catch everyone up.

So, if you will allow me, what follows over the next few posts is the last year in my life.

A is for Anxiety

To quote Maria Von Trapp 'let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start'.

I said in my last blog post that I wanted to examine the things I want to improve in my life or simply, things I want to be more aware of to protect myself when things don't go quite to plan. I wanted to do this alphabetically, with each letter having a theme and my examining that theme and its impact on my life. Whilst in the car today I realised that the themes I'd already pinpointed were likely to get VERY negative VERY quickly. As I have always believed that positive change can ONLY come from a positive mental attitude, posting particularly negative blog posts doesn't seem like a great idea. Which is why I have decided to do each letter in couples; the first post being about the thing I struggle with or want to change and the second post being about something I LOVE so that, at the end of each couple, I'm left with the positive rather than the negative.

So, without much further ado...

A is for Anxiety

Brought to you by the letter...A

For several years I have described myself (at least in my head) as someone who has high functioning anxiety. I have worn this as a badge of honour. My type A perfectionist personality (I literally thought this was the epitome of personality types when we did the test in an early Psychology A-Level lesson). My drive for organisation, structure and routine. My high functioning anxiety has driven many of the positive aspects of my life. It has got me through exams, assessments, party planning, acting as part of committees and has had a knock on effect in just about every aspect of my life.

All well and good, until the anxiety part of the equation does what it is good at and brings you to your knees. For me, it signals a complete lack of control in the areas of my life where I most need control. My ordinarily tidy space is rendered a confused mass of stuff: boxes, laundry (both clean and dirty), shoes I didn't know I owned, the world's lost socks all appear en masse and turn my control into chaos. I always think of my mess as a metaphor for the inside of my head. When my head is a mess, so too is everything else. I don't sleep well. I don't eat well. I hide IN my mess (which only makes the feeling AND the mess worse). I get migraine after migraine and turn into my most pathetic snivelling self.

You would think, considering I KNOW which factors in my day to day life are attached to anxiety, that I'd see it coming. But often I am not aware of my crippling anxiety until I reach my breaking point. I have had two such anxiety attacks in the last three months and one had me quite literally rocking back and forth huddled against the Paperchase store in London Euston station balling my eyes out. {Thinking about this now, the irony of attaching myself to a stationers (my literal happy place) is not lost on me}. I had very nearly missed the last train home and in that moment I heard every criticism I throw at myself, every worry my parents would have if I had to call them and explain, the separation anxiety I'd be causing my cat, the fact that I didn't have my migraine medication and therefore was DESTINED for a migraine by morning, the commotion I would cause if I had to throw myself on the mercy of either my best friend or my brother and sister-in-law (not that either party would have made me feel unwanted; but that's the insidious nature of anxiety. It's your OWN worst fears, not necessarily the realisation of it). My train was called, I brushed myself up enough to get to a seat, turned my face into the window and cried my eyes out the entire time it took to get home.

I am not much of a crier, crying in general (and ESPECIALLY in front of other people) makes me feel uncomfortable - physically. I was abused so terribly by an ex-boyfriend for my depression and crying in particular, that I now get a head splitting headache every time I cry somewhere where I might be seen or heard by other people. Crying, to me, is the epitome of lost control and I have built myself up in such a way that control is what I do to keep my guard up. I NEED it to maintain my sanity. Unfortunately, my obsessive need for control is also the one thing that most often pushes me to the verge of insanity. I just started working with a new therapist and within five minutes of our first consultation she had picked out that need for control- I told her, after arriving two minutes late (thirty seconds late is enough to cause palpitations) that I had begun to rehearse my apology when I realised I was going to be late, some 15 minutes earlier. So it is very much a work in progress. For now it's just a daily effort not to abuse myself for all of the things I do which I think will let people down and realise that for most of the people in my life, the added trappings of my perfectionism is unimportant. Being well and appreciating the things that DO go right is what matters.

Strictly alphabetical

So. You may have noticed that I haven't been here in...a year? The truth is, I haven't really 'been' for a year. My life had become a constant stream of stress, depression, migraines, injuries, medication and anxiety. So, I want to take this blog in a slightly different direction. This is STILL about my weight, sort of. I realised that I'd been looking at my weight in a vacuum. My weight was a solitary being that had things happen to it rather than it being actively related to my life in general. I feel like, every time I've talked about the psychology of losing weight, of overeating or of under-eating I have been lying to you. All of that stuff is true. But the gods' honest truth about the matter is that I don't think I have ever yet applied them to my life. It's one of those things where you KNOW all the answers - so if someone asks you for your advice you're there with ALL the knowledge, ALL the goods. But when you have to implement that in your OWN life...nope.

So here's the truth. I am unwell. I am at odds with my brain, with my hormones, with everything. I always referred to myself as someone who had 'recovered' from depression. I have become SO GOOD at hiding my anxiety, my stress that the only way I KNOW I'm stressed is when I start exhibiting certain behaviours. I buy too much, specifically - cosmetics. I eat too much, specifically - pick n mix. I sleep too much. I do too little. But I am never AWARE that I'm stressed until finally I reach absolute breaking point. And there I am, having a panic attack on a crowded train home or hiding in my bathroom with the shower running because no one can hear me cry. I hide my stress until my body is at absolute breaking point and my health (both physical and mental) hit a dangerous low.

And I've had this idea in the last few weeks, of reigniting this blog. Not just about weight. In fact, the weight is inferior to the countless other lifestyle changes I need to bring about. When I think about the weight I have put on in the last two years, it is never because I wore X or I looked Y. It is 'I could do ANYTHING', 'I was so fit and well', 'I'd never HAD a migraine', 'I was unstoppable' and most upsetting of all 'I wasn't desperately unhappy'. The weight is secondary to all of that and many other things. So, this is now about more than weight. It's about my health (mental and physical), it's about my happiness, it's about my ability to take on any challenge and succeed.

What I propose to do, is think about things alphabetically. Each letter to have a theme and to REALLY think and be REALLY HONEST about how those themes relate to me. I have hidden and ignored things for so long and I've gotten so low in my spirits and in my overall health as a result. Truthfully, I just cannot afford to do that any more.
So, let's just see how that goes shall we?

Florence
(19/3/2018)

What if?

This is a few days late...I've been struggling with migraines and computer screens are not my friend right now.

Anyhoo. I had the idea for this blog post about two weeks ago whilst I was washing my face. It suddenly occurred to me 'I wonder what would happen if I actually kept up this routine all year rather than forgetting a month in?' And that simple thought expanded into 'I wonder what would happen if I built a healthy lifestyle and stuck to it?' Suddenly my lifestyle change became so much more than simply 'drop pounds, lift heavy things, run faster' and became an experiment of what my life would actually be like. This got me thinking about how I'd thought about these things before and I realised that, overwhelmingly, my thought process has been retrospective rather than forward thinking. And honestly, I've DONE the past. I don't want to waste today thinking about yesterday when I can be working towards tomorrow.

I know this might seem painfully obvious but I can honestly say this is the first time that this kind of thought process has occurred in terms of lifestyle change. I've never been particularly positive when it comes to my what ifs. Usually it's 'what if I hadn't done X? I might be so much further along', 'what if I'd kept up with ballet as a child? I could be a prima ballerina by now' or just 'what if I hadn't been too embarrassed by my weight, body or just had believed in myself more? I might have gone to that party or told that guy how I felt or...' And when I realised this, I was struck by how disappointing this was and ultimately how negative my world view has been well...forever.

Motivational things! (http://hub.n2growth.com/the-power-of-what-if/)

In rediscovering the idea of the 'positive what if' I felt like I'd (re)discovered that quasi-childlike wonderment. What happens when I get to the top of that tree, I wonder if I can do a cartwheel or what happens if I mix the yellow and the purple play-doh (don't, it turns shit brown). And actually that really excited me. Because humans, whether we like to admit it or not, are curious animals. It's the reason that our ancestors spread out from Africa and came to live in just about every part of the globe (whether it's strictly habitable or not). It's the reason that one of our ancestors went 'I wonder what happens if I squeeze that cow's udders to collect milk?' (That literally makes my mind boggle, someone decided to milk a cow). Every scientific discovery has come from a simple question of 'what if?'

Now, I'm not suggesting that my 'what ifs' are particularly profound but in a world where we are bombarded with negative media, negative marketing and attitudes and approaches that are purely here to exploit our lack of confidence and human weaknesses; we have to cling on to anything that presents itself in a positive way. For me, this is especially important when I'm losing weight, upping my fitness or simply just trying to create a more balanced lifestyle. I do not do well with negativity. Being made to feel inferior, whether by my own mind or by others, is a sure fire route to failure. Of course, there might be SOME successes along the way- I know that I have had some exceptional weight losses when I feel awful about myself because I am at my most restrictive and most punishing in terms of calorie counting and activity- but it is certainly not sustainable and you end up far worse off than you may have started. For me, it presents as a significant drop in weight followed by a plateau which frustrates me into a) overeating b) purging or c) excessive exercise to the point of injury and illness. As if those three things weren't bad enough, you're left with the negativity meaning that absolutely nothing good has come from it. No. Thank. You.

I really just wanted to share this particular thought process because I know that there are people who will have thought about change the same way I was. I.e. thinking about it in terms of what has already happened (something we no longer have control over) instead of what could happen. Too often we live in the past at the risk of missing the present. I, for one, intend to make a change in my thinking by simply asking 'what if' more often.

Erin Hanson. Courtesy of pinterest...woohoo motivational quotes!

.

Please...don't lie to me.

Okay chaps, so we've made it through our first week of 2017. Now, if you're like me (and unless you've just got married or had a child or anything like that) the first 8 days of January have not been life changing. We have not woken up on January first; fresh faced, bright eyed and bushy tailed. If you're like me, you probably didn't wake up TODAY at all like the above either. Change takes time, and honestly, change takes serious struggle. It takes continuous effort to reinforce new habits, to limit the power that old habits had over you and your decision making abilities. This applies to ANY change. Even if you are told 'YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THIS THING OR YOU WILL DIE' that doesn't mean that you won't still have to actively say to yourself, no I can't do that or yes I must take that medication. No matter your reason for change, it doesn't stop it from being a challenge.

Okay, I think you've got the point. Change = hard.

So, imagine me- if you will- last night scrolling through Instagram  and seeing a sponsored post by Weight Watchers UK. FULL DISCLOSURE: I am still an adherent of Weight Watchers, it has worked for me thus far and I like the flexibility of not having to count things like fruit and veg. I understand it does not work for everyone and even I don't like some aspects and have modified the plan to suit myself...back to post. This Instagram post was an advert. I know, surprising considering it's January and most of us still have a box of mince pies left over from Christmas. This year's Weight Watchers celebrity is Oprah Winfrey. I am not by ANY stretch of the imagination criticising Oprah or her efforts to lose weight and feel better for it. ALL I will criticise is the simple line 'I can honestly tell you I struggle no more'. Literally the first thing that came to mind, totally involuntarily, was 'Oprah! Don't lie to me!' Because that is what it was. A LIE. 

Pretty self explanatory...

Let me lay out my evidence for this. I'll go off my own experience firstly. I have 26 years of unhealthy habits with food to break. I know that even when I am 'done' with the weight loss element of this journey I may well still have a daily battle fighting for moderation and stopping my emotional relationship with food from sneaking back in. Weight loss is one battle. Maintenance is a whole other battle. Having sat in countless Weight Watchers, Lighter Life and Cambridge Diet Plan meetings over the last few years never once has a leader or a member on maintenance said that they don't still struggle. Certainly it gets easier as new habits become a part of your day to day life but that doesn't mean that if you've been an emotional binge eater for decades that you won't have that moment after a shitty day where you go 'f*** it, just give me the sodding crisps'. Regardless of the 'real life' community of people changing their lifestyle that I have had the fortune of meeting and getting to know over the last 4 years, a quick glance at before and afters on Instagram itself will show just how much effort, CONTINUED effort, anyone who has lost/ is losing weight must commit to.

To suggest otherwise is to discount the extraordinary effort of anyone who has ever undergone serious change. To suggest otherwise is like saying 'but weight loss is easy. Just eat less and move more and there you go'. I don't think that there really are THAT many people who hand on heart truly believe that weight loss is easy, but Weight Watchers' own marketing strategy is telling people the wrong thing. That if you DO continue to struggle after losing weight or whilst losing weight or during whatever change you are undergoing in your life right now that you are somehow a failure or not doing it as WELL as Oprah (who, let's be honest, can afford to have someone cook her meals and make her work out every day if she wanted to). It's not realistic, it's not supportive and actually I think it's damaging. A quick read of the comments under this post and I saw people talking about how they DO still struggle but they're trying really hard. Like they were trying to explain away naughty behaviour to a disappointed parent. And this is the thing. I get what Weight Watchers are trying to do here. They're saying this is an easy program, it's flexible, it's doable, you can eat what you want (in moderation) and still lose weight. But what they've done is set the bar for weight loss attainment far to high for the average person trying to lose weight. And for a system that is trying to be increasingly supportive and aware of how emotional health feeds into relationships with eating, to my mind, it's undone a LOT of its good work. 

So to anyone who was in anyway downcast by last night's Instagram post, or simply feels like they're finding this too hard, it IS a struggle. You are NOT achieving less simply because you do find it challenging. And never NEVER let anyone, not even the company that is meant to be supporting you, make you feel inferior or incapable. You've got this. 

2017...believe it or not. (Part two)

Okay, so I'm organised. I've sorted through my possessions, have the beginnings of a weekly fitness plan and my laundry is well underway. Yay! So now it's time to think about actually making it happen. It's all well and good saying 'on Monday, Wednesday and Friday I go to spinning, Tuesday and Thursday Weights and ballet both evenings and yoga at the weekends' and quite another thing to get those things into practice. I'm also aware of the fact that I'm contending with about ten days of overindulgences and less than beneficial habits so I'm actually very grateful that the way the New Year has fallen means that there are bank holidays and I get another day to sort myself out before regular scheduling activity returns.

So without much further ado.

Stage three: Think about positive habits.

Kind of related to getting organised but more focused on the end goal. So for me, I want to get back to running fit this year- I'm not suggesting I take on any marathons any time soon (perhaps never- I may simply not be built for long distance) but I want it to become a habit that I stick to again. I'm at a weird period where I remember the endorphins and fun that came with my runs; being outside, taking in the fresh air and just reaping the benefits of the greater cardiovascular health; but I know the pain and lack of capacity that will come from starting again. But no matter- every expert was once a beginner. With the knowledge of your goals, you then have to think about how to make it happen. So, running- crack out the Couch to 5K app and do it. I want to make sure I have a greater variety of fruit and vegetables so produce a list of seasonal fruit and vegetables and try and increase my intake so that where I had one type of vegetable at lunch I now have two, where I had two at dinner I now have three OR take the time to find an interesting use of a vegetable so that's it's not just the same boiling, steaming, roasting that happens day in, day out. My family have decided to split meal production a bit more evenly so now my family get to experience my weird and wonderful dreams for vegetables too! (Mwahahahahaha). Drink more water, download a water tracking app or tick your glasses off on your calendar every day. (Most importantly for me) Sort out my atrocious sleep schedule. I'm writing this at 01:44...I should be in bed and I should not then be waking up at 10am (if I'm lucky) and repeating tomorrow evening. Nope. Must stop. I think it's much easier to try and do something new rather than STOP doing something you used to do and the logic is that you're actually adding something to your life rather than restricting yourself or denying the way you feel. But with the knowledge that the healthier I eat, the less I crave the things that make me feel unwell. All I need is some consistency (which is what is so great about a New Year) to let these new habits sink in and chances are I won't think about pick n mix or if I do I'll be able to approach it with the clarity and perspective I need to say 'no, you're not 15 any more. You cannot eat that without impunity and wake up feeling fine the next morning'.

Which brings me on to:

Stage four: Create a rewards scheme.

For most of us, we prefer the carrot over the stick. If you're like me (or the whole world...let's be honest now) our single most reliable reward is food. That stick of chocolate after a job well done, a piece of cake on a birthday, the unacceptable number of sweet treats that oozed from every corner of my house over Christmas given as a reward for...something. I've said it before and I'll say it again, from cradle to grave food is there. Now, if you've had an unhealthy relationship with food, like I have, food can no longer be your reward system. It just can't. Now (this can take some imagination) it is vital you find something you love that you can reward yourself with for hitting a goal or a target on the way. Not only that, you need a variety of different rewards at different levels of rewardiness to delineate between 'I went to the gym today' *well done me, I'm going to crack open the Laura Mercier bubble bath* and 'I annihilated my second tough mudder' *well done me, I'm off to the spa to have someone soothe those aching muscles*. Having these mini rewards keeps the steps along the way attainable, and when you have a longer journey ahead of you, you NEED something that can keep you going when it honest to god feels like you're just trudging along. Hard work will (maybe) eventually be its own reward but even then it can be extremely hard to see your own progress. When I was at university, progress was easy because I was surrounded by loads of people who could tell me I was looking better/ behaving differently. When I looked in the mirror and saw no change, people I hadn't seen in months would walk past me at the train station because I was that much slimmer. That's a heady feeling. It keeps you motivated even when motivation is hard to come by. Obviously when you don't have a cohort of students to inform you of your progress you need to become your own monitor and do it in an objective way. Keep a diary detailing your weight loss or your inch loss, or better even how fast you ran that kilometre or how much of a heavy thing you lifted. Write down personal bests and take stock of things that are easier now than they have ever been before. Celebrate every victory no matter how insignificant it may feel now. 

And finally.
Stage five: Be kind to yourself
I have not been very nice to myself in the last trip round the sun. Honestly, if I saw a person saying some of the things I've said to myself to any other person I'd give them a strong piece of my mind. So why can I say it to myself/ about myself? Be kind to yourself. Accept that there will be days when you're not feeling up to much or your motivation cracks and you feel bad habits slipping back in. We're only human. So, I'm going to be kind today and bring my old progress jars out of retirement. I've spent far too much time feeling like there was no point dealing with them simply because I didn't feel like pounds I'd already lost was progress. I'm going to release my jars from their prison, give them a clean because they're a bit dusty, and take all the beads back out and put my current total back in. It may not be as high as it was, sure, but it's still a hell of a lot of hard work and determination and I'm done seeing the negative instead of the positive. 

2017...believe it or not. (Part One)

So everybody, somehow it's 2017 today. I'm not going to agonise over all of the awful stuff that happened last year. I will just say this. 2016 was simultaneously the shortest and longest year of my life.

But. We move on.

Now, obviously the year has only just begun. So I can't tell you exactly how it's going to be different, I'm just telling you that I'm going into this year with all the optimism I can muster. So today, just to ease back into this whole 'being on top of my life thing' I want to lay out some of the things I plan on doing with my optimism.

Organisation is great because it means new stationery...

Stage one: Get organised.

This is somewhere where I often fall down and being organised applies to the small things just as much as the big things. If I haven't done my laundry my motivation to go to the gym disappears because I know I have to move into the 'uncomfortable' segment of my workout gear. Should I just get rid of that stuff? You know what...yes. In fact, LET IT BE SO. Today, Sunday, January 1 2017 I shall finally go through my gym kit and pack up the things that are uncomfortable, that are too short, too long, etc. If I take them to a charity shop, especially since some of the half length capri pants (mistaaaaake) have only been worn once, maybe someone else can get use out of them and I'll have to remember to do my laundry regularly.

Taking the last few days of my Christmas study break to really think about the time I want to dedicate to fitness, followed by the amount of time I'm ACTUALLY ABLE to commit to fitness will help no end. Actually making a date with yourself that 'on Tuesday morning between 10-11 I do circuits at the gym' and then slotting the other stuff around it is not going to prevent you from giving the sufficient amount of time to the 'more important things'. No, you'll know when you go to the gym, when you study, when you practice a language or pick up an ageing instrument and chances are you will be giving yourself MORE time to do it and LESS time worrying about ‘whether I should go to the gym today'. Trust me. If you work best with a full schedule like me, this is the way to go.

Stage two: Just, stop and think.

Hello, my name's Florence and I'm addicted to pick n mix. There. I said it. I would love to say that I don't think about what I'm doing when I'm digging into the self serve Candy King and missing the days of Woolworths Pick n Mix stand but that would be a lie. Not only do I think about it. I fantasise about it when I DON’T have it to the point that I can almost taste those pink and blue fizzy bottles and then the inevitable 2am raid of Tesco's happens and...yeah, it's not pretty. Do you know what I SHOULD think?! 'This shit physically hurts you'. I am NOT joking. Sugary sweets of any type, no matter how small a portion causes my body physical pain. And yet, whilst it's happening I'm not thinking about that. I'm thinking about how good it is, how tangy it tastes and how tingly it feels. I'm not talking about guilt. Sure, I've had moments when I have eaten SO MUCH pick n mix, pizza, Chinese food etc. that I feel guilty about my behaviour and that is no good in itself.

But loving yourself means taking care of your body and I HAVE to realise that when I eat certain foods my body simply is not happy. So step two is mainly about thinking about the things that are harming your interests- really having an actual concerted think about it rather than just a cursory 'that makes my tummy hurt' or 'following this person on Instagram makes me feel bad' and really stop and think. Make a list of the bad stuff and then, I don't know, burn it or physically destroy it and just get that shit out of your life. Or, alternatively think about the positive things you can bring IN to your life. My immune system has been barely functional this year and scientists are increasingly telling us that our gut health is crucial to maintaining a healthy immune system. So I'm going to stop and think and research the kinds of foods and habits that will positively impact my health so that going forwards I don't have any 'I ate too much sugar, I think my stomach is about to explode...send help' moments in 2017.

The main reason I’m banging on about this now is that year in, year out I have seen people (myself included) start the New Year with all these great schemes but with no forward planning. Failure to plan is planning to fail. What is the point of saying ‘New Year, New Me’ if the new you only lasts a month and a half? I have known for the last few weeks that I was really going to pull the finger out after the New Year. I’ve been back on track more or less since Thanksgiving (26th November in my house) but I knew that it was going to be primarily damage limitations before the Christmas period. But NOW is the time that I get back to building the habits and behaviours that will hopefully stick with me for good. That doesn’t mean it will come easily, I’ve been so haphazard with my attitude towards nutrition and activity over the last year, but I know that it will be worth it. So today’s post is about how I’m organising myself. Tomorrow will look at how I’m going to make the things I’m organising happen and how I’m going to keep them happening. And then, well, I just have to get on with it!

Wishing everyone a happy, healthy, New Year!

An (Honest) Eulogy to 2016

Oh, 2016. You had so much promise. As I stood under the moonlight watching multicoloured pinwheels fly through the sky howling my lungs out in celebration of what was going to be the 'BEST YEAR EVER' I had no idea what you were going to bring. But I knew it was going to be good.

I. Was. WRONG.

Good God 2016, could you have been worse? Yes. We could be living in 1916 and witness our loved ones leave to fight in WWI only to never come back. We could be one of the thousands of displaced Syrian refugees or otherwise simply be in a less privileged position than I actually am. I am aware of this. I look around myself at the overwhelming prosperity and I am thankful that I have the things that I have and that the people I love are still here. But honestly...2016, I'm sorry but you were pretty shit.

In 2016, I have put on and lost and put on and lost somewhere in the region of three stone. I start the new year about half a stone heavier than I did on January 1st (and I am so thankful that it is ONLY half a stone heavier) but 2016 has been the hardest weight loss/fitness/general motivation year of my life.

In 2016 I have fallen in love and had my heart broken and put it back together only for it to be broken AGAIN. In 2016, I witnessed some of the finest artists of our time pass unreasonably early.  Social divisions were pushed to the absolute limit; first with Brexit, then with Donald J(esusChristyoucan'tbeserious) Trump, and the wave of intolerance continues at home and abroad.

Katie Hopkins did NOT leave the country either of the times she promised to. Nor has Nigel Farage pissed off (what would have been one of the few good aspects of the surge of hatred in the weeks immediately following the referendum). Jo Cox was murdered. Native Americans once again had their rights revoked because of big business. Lorries ran over celebrating civilians. Natural disaster after natural disaster. Police brutality. Civil war rages in the Middle East and no one really seems to know what to do about it, or knows what to do about it but is just too chicken shit to actually make a stand. There have been terrorist attacks and mass shootings what seems like every day of the year.

It's Christmas time, my absolute favourite time of the year. The time of year I love because, in general, people just seem nicer to one another. You take a minute to think of the people you care about and all of the wonderful things in your life. But when I look around right now, there is a veritable shit storm of fear and hatred and bigotry and just awfulness and I hate turning on the news because there's a picture of yet another child that the world forgot or a once thriving city razed to the ground or yet more hate attacks on people who are a bit different. I feel drained and demotivated and sometimes just, completely lost. And I know I am not alone.

And yet. There have been pockets of goodness throughout. I read something after the Florida mass shooting that struck me. In moments of peril, look for the helpers because they will always be there. And it's true. Where there is injustice, people will stand for what is right and good. Bloodbanks (after the Orlando shooting) were overwhelmed with support, veterans stood with protesters, the UK voted to ratify the Istanbul Convention, the White Helmets, donations were made to Planned Parenthood in Mike Pence's name, three parent babies, we're closer to a cure for HIV than ever before, the Icelandic football team received a heroes welcome, tiger populations are increasing, Bill Clinton reacted to balloons, Leonardo DiCaprio FINALLY won an Oscar, Leicester City, Larry the Cat, the Chicago Cubs, Pope Francis continues to be Pope Francis, The Olympic and Paralympic games. I watched one of my best friends achieve a life long dream. I had fun. I held the people I love close. I didn't fail.

There is the potential for goodness and determination in the face of adversity everywhere you look. So, my wish for 2017 is to make it count. Every new year has the potential to be a bizarre game of deja vu. We repeat the same resolutions, give up at the same times and then just carry on with the day to day monotony. I don't plan on doing that. I plan on putting the work in. Grabbing on to possibilities and giving them my best shot. And in many ways, I have you to thank for that 2016. If you hadn't been so crap I wouldn't have the drive to make 2017 the best year yet.

Nearly everything that happened in 2016.
Beutler Ink. (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/best-and-worst-of-2016-illustration_us_58580249e4b08debb789f02f)

Changing priorities

This afternoon I went with my friend Elspeth to see the latest in the Bridget Jones' Diary franchise and I had a bit of an epiphany. Yes friends, Bridget Jones brought around a real psychological evaluation that I'd like to share with you all.

Let's begin by briefly discussing my state of mind for the last...year. It has not been pretty. If I am honest with myself I started beating myself up on the 14th September last year when I attempted the New Forest Marathon. Having come in to this with an incredibly positive mental attitude (despite having lost weeks of training to illness) I was certain that there was no way I wouldn't be able to achieve this and so, when I couldn't, I don't think I ever really forgave myself. Gone was the celebratory marathon and Tough Mudder themed tattoos (unfair on the latter as I did actually complete that and still consider that to have been the greatest fitness success of my life), I stopped running and slowly but surely I stopped caring. My nutrition went down south, my love for activity decreased and I just became overall complacent. Flash forward a year and two days and this has changed very little.

Bridget Jones is remembered for a number of things: big pants, sliding down a fireman's pole and singing 'Like a Virgin' in a Thai prison (to name but a few) but my single most pervading memory from the books is her obsession with weight and caloric intake. Bridget can proudly tell you the number of calories in a small banana and complain about being 9 stone 10 (b***h). First thing I thought of here is, God I hope I never get so obsessed with the number on the scale that I am at that level. Followed by 'F**k, I already am'. You see, I started September with every intention of rejigging my life. I've been doing the yoga 30 day challenge at Sweat Studios and I was meant to be eating well, hydrating well and therefore feeling ALL of the benefits. What has actually happened is I have done the yoga but I have forgotten to hydrate adequately, meaning that I've spent much of the last week either missing classes or feeling like death warmed up because I have such a headache; I have apparently thrown the nutrition handbook out of the window meaning I feel sluggish and overfull ALL THE TIME, and have gained weight. Last time I did the challenge I was dropping pounds on a daily basis. Anyway, that bit is really unimportant. The important bit is the obsession. See, the thing is I really shouldn't KNOW that I've gained weight. I should NOT be weighing on a near hourly basis seeing if I've shifted the pound I gained at breakfast or hoping that a good bowel movement will get me closer to my weight this time last year. I have lost the plot.

I am missing the opportunity to see my body work at its peak because I am completely overtaken by a number on a scale. I go to the gym to lose weight. I go to yoga and operate in blistering heat to lose weight. All I have thought about for months is weight. And as, obviously, that has not been moving in as expedient or consistent a manner as I would like, the way I have been thinking about my weight has become increasingly negative.

And then today, Mark Darcy stepped in. As many of you know, I am studying to become a lawyer and human rights is absolutely where my interest lies. And I'd kind of forgotten that. I'd become swept up with all of my obsession with weight and with the negativity that has been following me around like a bad smell and, quite frankly, I've been fucking things up. Not badly. Not enough to hold me back, but enough for me to notice. And then I remembered the way I was when I was younger and all I wanted in the whole world was to stand on a stage in the West End and play the role of Fanny Brice in Funny Girl or Eponine in Les Miserables. Every thing I did then was in service of my ultimate aim. Which is why, on the drive home, I gave some thoughts to my goals now. Career aspirations obviously include completing my legal degree with as high a degree classification as I can achieve, get a place studying for the BPTC, get pupillage, change world. But health wise, I just don't think that my 'weight' can be the priority. Right now my 'weight' is not serving me. It is holding me back. My aim is to be healthy. To go to bed feeling well and waking up feeling well and able to start the next day. Not feeling like I've put poison in my body that wracks my stomach with cramps at night and waking up feeling like I've been hit by a bus. To be fit. To give my body challenges that it has not achieved (or even tried) before and feel like I can do it. To not feel so lethargic. To not go up the three flights of stairs to my bedroom and feel exhausted at the end. To condition my body so that it is in excellent condition for as long as possible. Not my weight. My weight does not determine any of those things.

So kids, for now at least, I am banishing the scales. I will still record what I eat as a method of accountability but my focus has to be on getting the most from my activity, eating healthily and regaining my balance. But most important of all, finding the positivity that drove me on all that time ago when I first started this. And until then (and perhaps even then) my 'weight' can only hold me down.

I overcome all fears *part two*

As the title of this post will somewhat indicate, this is the follow up to my previous blog post. A summary, for those of you who missed it. I was about to take part in my first marathon and was bricking it. After much goading myself on I convinced myself that I was ready, had a thorough pre-marathon breakfast, the much needed *pre-race poop*, tied my laces and headed off. 

And here's the awful, painful truth that I almost didn't want to confess. I couldn't finish it. I hit the wall at mile 18 and the next three miles were achingly slow. My legs felt like lead, my insoles had apparently shrunk during Tough Mudder- something I might have realised if I hadn't had to take weeks out of training for illness related reasons- and I could feel a line of bleeding blisters along both sides of my feet. I hit mile 21- 5 miles to go and well over an hour and a half in which to do it in. Easy. 

No. I was broken. I was a shell of my usual jubilant self. The relatively small size of the marathon (under 500 people) and the ridiculously slow pace between mile 18-21 meant that my worst nightmare was realised. I was in last place. The recovery van that went around the course to pick up runners who had damaged themselves was literally on my tail. Every time I looked around they were there. I have described this in a number of ways- the Top Gear failure car for example, or *my personal favourite* the komodo dragon stalking his prey for days after that initial venomous bite. I sobbed and sobbed and hated every moment of them following me. I gave the driver an earful about how awful it was having him there. He looked down at my left ankle (my stupid inherently damaged ankle) and said 'I'm sorry miss, you're doing incredibly but that ankle is just making us all a little nervous especially with the next hill.' Oh god. A hill. JOY OF JOYS. Stubborn as ever I stomped up that hill just to show him. I got to the top, looked at my running watch thinking that I MUST be near that 22 mile mark. 21.2 miles. I called my mum and cried. I told her I was a failure and that this was HANDS DOWN the worst thing I had ever attempted. What was I even thinking?! The pain was overwhelming when I finally let the failure wash over me. I turned to the recovery van, nodded at him and hopped in. I didn't speak again for the 20 minutes it took for me to get back to the race village. I couldn't; it would've destroyed me. I kept getting told how well I'd done, the other runners in the car (they'd all picked up injuries and were en route back with me) commended me for getting past them. One chap was on marathon number 8. He vindicated my feeling that the New Forest Marathon is a lonely marathon. Beautiful scenery but there are so few people that you literally fall into your own little bubble and that's it.

It was not what I'd imagined a marathon to be. I've watched the London Marathon and the Great North Run (I know it's a half- calm down) and said to myself, it'll be that atmosphere that keeps you going when it gets tough. It's the other 40,000 people all achieving something very great who will keep you motivated. It was otherwise a perfect day. Not too hot, not due to rain and the perfect level of cloud cover. I ran through little villages where small children handed out sweaty handfuls of jelly babies (little boy from Brockenhurst- you were my rock!) and I started ludicrously well. The first 10 miles came smoothly and easily and I was at the half way point in just over 2 and a half hours. I could come up with countless reasons WHY I couldn't do it but quite honestly there is no point. And this is actually very important for me. 

My greatest fear has always been failure. I sat in the back of that van and was a failure. And then I started to think. Being a failure would have been never having the bravery to try in the first place. Being a failure would have been continuing on clearly over taxed limbs to the point of real and significant damage. Being a failure would have been not learning something from the experience. And as painful an experience this was, my god did I learn. 

I have learnt that sometimes I need to be nicer to myself. If you had told my younger self that I would be fit enough to run a marathon -ever- she would have laughed and thought something along the lines of 'even the 100m on school sports days hurt'. That sometimes I need to do things for the process rather than some arbitrary final point that I've set myself. I'm actually quite looking forward to just training- for nothing in particular. I learnt that (no pun intended) I can't run before I learn to walk. A marathon WILL happen. I WILL eventually be able to tick that off of my 'to do' list and I will finish a hell of a lot stronger than I could have this time. 

The reason I know this is because I truly can overcome all fears. All it takes is the bravery to try. 

I overcome all fears

Three weeks ago today, I woke up in a cottage in Cirencester having just taken on one of the hardest physical challenges of my life. The day before, I became a Tough Mudder. I had spent about 4 and a half hours running over hills and through dense woodland, climbing over walls and scrabbling through mud whilst being repeatedly thrown into water and a final bit of electric shock therapy at the end all for good measure. I crossed the finish line hand in hand with my brother, was handed my orange head band, finisher T-shirt and a cider. This was, hands down, the proudest moment of my life.   Four and a half hours earlier I had stood with my group of mudders and enthusiastically shouted at the top of my lungs my pledge to 'over come all fears'.

This morning, I woke up in a hotel room in Bournemouth to the sound of sea gulls and early enough that it was still dark outside- a sight I'm still not quite used to after a summer of early sunny mornings. I absentmindedly put on my trusty ronhill running tights and the T-shirt I acquired yesterday to face what is, undoubtedly, sure to be another of the hardest physical challenges of my life. Today, I run my first marathon. And here's a secret that I'm not altogether proud of- I'm scared. The week and a half after tough mudder left me struck down with a chest and ear infection that wiped out what remaining training time I had for the run and has tormented me all week. I've worked and reworked out how fast I need to do it to atlas complete it within the six and a half hour time limit (14.9 minute mile just in case you were wondering) and I've been plagued by memories of coming in last at races for school. I have been reassured by my friends and family, my personal trainer Heather is I'm sure sick to death about hearing me blabber on about it and is probably waiting on tenterhooks today for me to tell her it's done so we can resume work as usual.

This morning, I have done everything I can to ensure success. I had an early night last night and I'm waiting for the butterflies in my tummy to bugger off which probably won't happen until I step foot over the starting line and am actually doing this. Honestly, some days I look at myself and think 'what the hell have you done this for?!' and then I remember, today I will do what others won't so that tomorrow I can do what others can't. I do this for the challenge because, deep down inside- even when my confidence is wavering- I believe that I am capable of achieving anything I put my mind to. I do this because I know countless individuals who wish they could strap on a pair of running shoes and take in what will prove to be some of the most breathtaking scenery in the country but can't because of illness or injury. I do this because people tell me I am an inspiration and I believe that people who have the possibility of effecting change, no matter how small, should lead by example and be unyielding in their own determination.

I do this, because I overcome all fears.

Finding my joy.

Sorry sorry sorry for the absence. I've been busy doing exciting things---->  They say that life starts at the end of your comfort zone. After the last few weeks I have come to know that this is one hundred percent true. It used to be that the things that made me happy were lazy Sundays or Lord of the Rings movie marathons (I reckon that last one would still make me pretty f***ing happy). Now the idea of sitting still for more than an hour when I could be up, out doing something, anything makes me itch. It's why I make sure that my rest days are ones where I'm working or I know I would go cray cray with wanting to do something.

A few weeks ago I released a Facebook status.

I don't know why I didn't write a blog post the minute my feet once again touched solid ground but it's taken me almost a month to figure out exactly what that first half hour back on a horse meant to me. My first thought as I approached this beast of a horse was that he was absolutely massive. Of course he is, he (his name's Max btw and he is my new BFF-don't tell my cat) has to lift a (then) 16 stone unsure human as she tries to remember how to rise in trot without damaging her crotch. I took to the mounting block and then freaked out. I haven't told any one this so you're all the first to know. He's so tall, what if I fall off? What if I can't do this? What if I can't even swing my leg over his saddle? He kept moving about, wasn't close enough, was too close. All the excuses. I was once again the girl I was when I first went running back in July 2013. And then it happened. I threw my leg over, was sat on and we moved together. The tears happened almost instantly. Pure, unadulterated joy. When the half hour was up and I'd figured out how to get off of this enormous creature- I cannot stress enough just how large Max is- I stroked his face and thanked him for the most amazing gift. In that half hour, and every subsequent half hour, he has given me a part of life that I'd only ever really dreamed of getting. For months I'd thought that getting back on a horse was just so far off, and yet here I am with my booked in weekly 8am Sunday lessons (I am NOT a morning person, so you can work out for yourself how much this means to me) and loving every moment of the connection and every moment that I can feel my body getting stronger, more capable and increasingly up to the challenge that is horse riding.

I was thinking to myself on my way back from ballet this evening that a couple of weeks ago I would have said ballet and horse riding were my main joys. And they are. I clearly love that damn horse and I love rediscovering the awesome- actually kind of ridiculous- things I can do with my body that made me good at ballet in the first place. I was telling myself that the slog in the gym and running was remedied by the treat of ballet and my time with Max. Until today. I'd had a hell of a yoga class (this hot yoga is like on steroids or something, I have never sweated so much) and left with such a sense of achievement. With every run, I grow stronger and fitter, my endurance and stamina continue to grow and I get to think freely and just be with myself. In the gym I love competing with my own personal best, I love how competent I feel. Everything I do, activity wise, feeds into something else and my enjoyment and achievement of each activity enables a greater commitment to the others. When people say that I must be so proud of all I've achieved over the last 2 and a bit years I comment that it's not just a pride of the achievement. I have such an overwhelming sense of competency, of capability and that is not something I think I can truthfully say I've felt before.

This competency was tested with my latest challenge, rock climbing. To say that I've never been able to climb a rock is an understatement. I was always too afraid to lift my feet even a foot off the ground. But at my induction not only did I get to the top of the wall first time but, according to the instructor, I attacked the challenge with a gusto and a conviction that he had never seen in a first time climber. That is what this journey has given me. I haven't just grown to love activity- really love it this time- I am no longer afraid of the limitations of my body. Instead of automatically thinking I can't, I know that if I try anything with enough conviction it can be done.

There are 99 days left until I do Tough Mudder. One of my managers at work made a comment upon discovering that I was doing it that I must really hate myself to go through such an ordeal. I know that there are countless people out there that see obstacle runs and marathons and triathlons as some kind of punishment that only we masochistic individuals sign up for. Maybe that's true. But what I can tell you for certain is that, for me, completing Tough Mudder will be the culmination of 2 and a half year's hard work. Hard work that has shown me that I can do amazing things, if I only step out of my comfort zone.

An anniversary and an apology

The last few weeks in my life have been pretty awesome. This has not been caused by any one thing in particular but I can say with absolute certainty that I'm the happiest I've been in a good long while. So much so that I completely bypassed my second anniversary with Weight Watchers. It completely slipped past without so much as a howdoyoudo and I think that this is because this has become a part of my life rather than necessarily a conscious presence that walks along side my life. That's not to say that I don't still track and make decisions on a day to day basis that I think will benefit my life, it's just become a part of the furniture.

Whilst this makes me feel confident that I will be able to keep on keeping on- it has also made me a little complacent in recent weeks. I've just been pretty happily maintaining my weight, something that needs to change right now. I'm weighing in at 15 stone 12 currently and that's pretty cool and all but that means I'm one pound away from 8 stone lost and a step in the direction of goal. The focus on getting to goal has sort of just faded to the background. That's not to say that I haven't been engaging in activities that are leading to my betterment, mind, body and soul.  Whilst I am the fittest I have EVER been, I've forgotten to prioritise the ultimate weight loss goal- I need to remember that the two need to go hand in hand. I've become too comfortable so I need to kick it up a notch.

At work we talk about something called the 'stretch zone'. This is your optimum working position. You're not complacent, you're not comfortable but you're not panicking or stressing out. I seem, when it comes to weight loss at least, to very rarely sit in the stretch zone. Either I am comfortably eating mozzarella sticks at 2 in the morning or I'm stressing out over once eating a carb. Either I'm never in the gym and getting out of breath going up stairs or I live in the gym with a perpetual case of fatigue. Clearly, neither of these scenarios are ideal and, as a result of not being able to find this stretch zone I will not be doing the Milton Keynes Marathon next Monday.

This brings me on to the apology part. I feel, and have been feeling for weeks, that I owe you all some kind of an apology. That my failure to run the marathon is letting you down. I worked out weeks ago that the marathon was simply not going to happen. I'd been hit with a case of gastroenteritis when I realised 'crap. The marathon is in just over a month'. Before then I'd damaged my ankle again from overexertion after a bout of under exertion. In short, I failed to manage my marathon training correctly and, as a result, I've fucked up. I beat myself up about it over and over and considered 'just doing it' and sodding the potential damage to my body because I couldn't stand the idea of telling people that I wasn't doing it. That I was letting my charity, myself and anyone who has ever called me inspirational down. But all I can do, all anyone ever CAN do is remember how much I have achieved in the past two years and work to move forward; 'there are only two days that you can do nothing about. Yesterday and some day'. I know I WILL do the marathon, this Monday is simply not my time.

So, in the meantime, I accept my apology- I just hope you do too.

The rule of seven.

So, it's been a month since Jemma left (I can't believe it's been so long) and it's well time for a new blog post. Not just because enough time has gone by but because I actually have some really, very exciting news to share with y'all.

As of last night, ladies and gentlemen, I have lost 7 stone. If the daily mail is anything to go by (...) apparently I have lost Snooki. That's a full, grown up adult woman that has had a child. We'll ignore the fact that, if that's true, she is PAINFULLY underweight. I'm going to revel in that for a little bit. Yesterday was a good day. I woke up with an amazing feeling of optimism that, to be honest, I've been missing for a little while. Maybe it was the restorative day off from work, or it might have been the glorious spring sunshine baring down at me from my window. I did loads of spring cleaning, had an enormous amount of drive to get some course work done and was generally just feeling a heightened sense of wellbeing. I was also aware of the fact that I only needed one pound to tip me over the 7 stone mark. One pound. I was the equivalent of a can of baked beans to my 7 stone goal and with that only 2 lbs, or your average pineapple, away from having lost 100lbs. Triple digits. Crikey.

It was also significant because this was the first weight watchers meeting I've been able to go to since before Christmas. I've been going at it alone because my rota has had me on late nights for the last 9 Wednesdays. So I got dressed in my usual weight watchers uniform (clothing that I'm sure could well have me done for gross indecency), got my card and climbed into the car for the 10 minute drive. And then it hit me. I was actually nervous about going in. I felt like I did when I started. I was an anxious newbie. 'What if they've recycled my membership card because I haven't been in SO LONG?' (They hadn't). 'What if my scales at home are wrong and I've actually gained 10 lbs?' (My scales are fine). 'What if I stay the same and I nearly die of frustration?' This was a very real worry because I had not, by any stretch of the imagination, had a good week. I over ate on Thursday, ate ALL the food on Valentine's day (why is that day not outlawed?) and (sorry boys) it's my time of the month. Combine that with my utter laziness in the last week and none of this is all that conducive towards the best weight loss success. And yet I walked into that room and people did not recognise me. People who have been with me the entire length of my journey. People physically did double takes. My leader even said 'Welcome' to me before realising who I was and gawping at me stunned. {Inner monologue} "Calm down people, I've only lost like 10 lbs since you last saw me". My leader gleefully (finally) handed over my 75 lb certificate before exclaiming to the entire room that she'd better get on the computer and order the 100 toot sweet.

Wait...are you, you know, using a selfie stick?

And so, the moment of reckoning. Step on the scale, the number ticks down and settles on 16 stone 11. I did it. 7 stone. 14 silver sevens. In that moment I flashed back to the first moment I stepped on the scales back in April 2013. I remember looking at the dust settling before me and seeing the enormous challenge I had ahead of me. This time, all I can see ahead of me is potential and the amazing things that this body of mine has accomplished.  In that moment I think I realised that one of the great things holding me back the last few weeks has been fear. I don't think I was even aware of it at the time. I've held back from marathon training (stupidly) because I've been afraid of finishing last,  I've been afraid of not being able to hit my targets and have beaten myself up about it when that then materialised in slow, though consistent, weight loss. I was scared of the life I was going to live without Jemma, but apparently not too scared to sign up for Tough Mudder in August (I don't think the fear for that has had time to develop yet though). I've been afraid of letting life slip by and so haven't stopped to think about all the things I can do now, should do now. That, is what 7 stone means to me.

So, today I woke up on a rainy morning with all of yesterday's enthusiasm still buzzing. I got up, bought some new running socks, ate some sushi and headed to the gym to train with Heather (the new PT- you'll all be glad to know we get along, so I have no intention of dumping her). I had more than one opportunity to over eat today but I didn't. With so much waiting in the coming weeks, I suddenly found myself having no interest. That, I think will be my mantra this week. There are only 2 lbs till 100. Just keep going. And so, to sum up, I've lost 7 stone but have found myself and with every pound gone I get a little bit of the life I can have to keep me motivated, to keep me going. And when that's not enough, I get given stickers...

14 little shiny stickers for me.

Goodbye, I'll miss you.

I've been putting this post off for weeks but the time has come to do it. Before Christmas I'm at my personal training session, complaining about boys (as per usual) when Jemma stops me. 'I have something to tell you'. My head suddenly fills with all the worst case scenarios it can come up with. She's getting married to a Saudi Prince and has to leave immediately. She's developed a rare allergy to sweat and can no longer be a personal trainer. Oh shut up brain.

'I'm moving to Australia'- is what she actually said. Cue emotional and mental breakdown. *You will not cry in the gym...you WILL NOT cry in the gym*.

But Australia's so far away!

So yeah, my absolutely beloved personal trainer- someone who has been such an enormous part of my journey so far- is leaving next week to start the next part of her own journey. I'm torn by feeling proud that she's breaking out and having new experiences and screaming 'but what about me?! I can't believe that you're not going to be here till the end. We were going to start a weight loss empire and become millionaires!' {That is still totally going to happen...}

However hard the idea of being separated from Jemma is to contemplate, I want to focus on the amazing contribution this woman- my pint sized ninja sidekick- has made so far.

Jemma was by no means my first personal trainer. I have a history of unceremoniously dumping my personal trainers. I just kind of disappear, don't reply to texts or calls until they get the picture. Either I've not felt challenged, don't get on with the person or I just haven't been in the right place to take full advantage of the skills they were offering me.

Jemma though, was different. Not only did she appear in my life at exactly the point that we would both be able to benefit from our relationship with each other, she was the first personal trainer I have ever connected with. It started at the very beginning, she complimented my Ted Baker handbag. It was love. She realised early on that I was more capable than I, or anyone, might think and as such I was constantly challenged to do better, be better or just try something new. Through her, I finally learnt what it meant to love activity. I know now what it feels like to be able to say, 'woah, my body can do amazing things. Let's see if it can do X?' She's the reason that I have no doubt that I can do Tough Mudder in August or the Milton Keynes Marathon in May.

Ted Baker. Bringing people together since 2012

Shortly into our time together I went back to Bristol and was sure that I'd be able to continue that trend with other personal trainers. I was wrong and Vanessa and Dave became the next victims of, the now infamous, Hunter dumping. I neither connected with them nor felt challenged by the programs that they set me. They just couldn't put me at ease or felt confident themselves to see what would happen if they gave the 20+ stone girl some heavy weights and see what happened or tease gently when I pull my pouty face that I simply cannot do another rep.

As we worked together more, Jemma ceased to be just my personal trainer. She became my friend. I trust her totally, something summed up last week when I let her give me a piggy back. Think about that for a moment... As someone who hasn't been picked up by another human being in well over a decade, this was a huge moment for me and her. I had to try not to cry as we high fived and she said she was happy to have been the first person to pick me up. We talk about just about anything including failed tinder experiments and an unfortunate crush that may or may not have been had in the first few weeks of my new job. Awks.

Every time we have a session, even if I am hating life or just want my bed, I can honestly say I smile as I tie my laces and head out of the front door. For the first time in my life I am excited to see what can be achieved and working with her has me seriously considering qualifying as a personal trainer myself. I am not exaggerating when I say that she has changed my life for good.

So learning that today is our last session has left me flat out devastated. I nearly cried when we were boxing as I felt the loss rising up inside but I know that this is not the end. We WILL have our empire of fitness videos where y'all can experience the fun and laughter that our sessions bring. I can only say that training with her has been inspirational and an absolute pleasure.

So, there you have it. I had always hoped that she would be there till the end of my journey and she will be- just not as we'd originally planned. So Jemma, and I know you're reading this, I will miss you more than words can say and am so pleased to have had the privilege of having you in my life for the last year and a half. It's been an absolute blast and I hope you have an amazing time in Australia...even if the evil part of my brain is hoping you come home soon.