Kaylamity

I had a visit from God this morning.   Not the kind of “visit” where He diverts my attention to a beautiful flower out of place, or when I have a great hair day, or I make it through the light right before it turns red.  I had a REAL, tangible visit from God.  At the post office, of all places.  To be specific, the post office parking lot.  I have been under attack and in a pit lately.  A very dark, depressing, stinky, slimy pit.  Without going into the dirty details, just know it’s not a very spiritual place at all.  I’ve gotten closed off and, frankly, part of me seems to be getting comfortable there in a weird sort of way.  There is another part of me that desperately wants out, but just can’t reach high enough to get a grip to start pulling myself up.  I’ve fought with this often over my lifetime.  A lot.  And sometimes I even fight with God about it.  This time, I’ve just waited.  Waited and prayed that He would deliver me, change me, charge me; do whatever needed to be done

This has GOT to have been the longest winter of my entire life.  I mean, really!  Is it EVER going to get warm?  It's April already and here in the South we should have had several 90 degree days by now.  We've barely had any days in the 80's. I'm a summer girl, through and through.  I do NOT like the cold - not one little bit.  It makes me hurt and aggravates my Fibromyalgia, which makes me a very grumpy girl, indeed.  But the summer... Ah, the summer.  The heat from the summer sun is like a massage of tiny little fingers all over my skin and my muscles just melt with the warmth going through them.  And the beautiful tan the sun gives me makes me feel and look healthier, younger, alive! I can hear you now: "But wait!  A SUN-tan?!?!  Seriously?!  Of course you know that can literally KILL you, right?!"  Yes, yes, I know.  And because of that fact, I am a serial sunscreen junkie.  I mean, out of the shower, head to toe sunscreen ALL OVER MY BODY.  Every. Da

It's no secret that women have a full plate, that we wear many hats, and have many people depending on us whether we have a husband and/or children or not.  I wrote recently about being busy, and there's a reason we call ourselves Wonder Woman.  I look at my own calender and wonder how I'm going to get it all done. Within this life of responsibilities, it's sometimes a wonder we get a shower every day, much less get our hair fixed and, dare I say, put on makeup!  I have to admit that over the past year (or longer) I have become very lax in putting on makeup before leaving the house for work, errands, and sometimes - even church services (Wednesday nights only, thank you). Some days, like today, it's very hard for me to even get out of bed and get going, thanks to my new nemesis - Fibromyalgia.  So in an effort to get to work on time (yeah, right) I skip the makeup and head out.  But then every time I walk past a mirror, I feel, oh I don't know, old, ugly, ti

How does life get so busy?  So busy that you feel like you never have time to do anything?  Nothing seems to get done, but you always have something going on?   Maybe it's because we have so many people in our house.  Maybe it's because I need to work on my time management skills.  Maybe it's because my body just doesn't have the energy it once did.  I don't know.  But what I do know is that my house is a wreck;  I can never find the clothes I want to wear because they are dirty;  I have a to-do list a mile and a half long;  and my calendar is completely full of "stuff".   That "stuff" is stuff I really want to do.  It is stuff that makes me feel good and complete and like I am making a difference in the world and myself.  Volunteer opportunities are something I never really participated in until the last few years.  I always heard that little negative voice in the back of my head that told me I wasn't good enough to volunteer and that no

I have survived three and a half weeks of Bethany's Bikini Boot Camp!  Albeit I feel like I may die during every single class.  I have been attending 3 days a week - Monday, Wednesday and Friday, religiously- and only missed 2 classes, one because I had a sinus infection, pharyngitis, tracheitis, and bronchitis - all at the same time, and the other was rained out.  I have even attended a couple of the extra cardio classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  I have been so sore since I started this adventure, every minute of every day.  But I persist.  I am determined.   Running, I have found, is the bane of my existence.  Well, cardio in general.  I am still the very last, slowest bootcamper, at every class I attend.  I still cannot run consistently for a full lap (1/3 mile).  The stairs still hate me.  "Jumping Jacks" still feel like daggers are being stabbed into my ankles.  And I cannot even bear to talk about "Mountain Climbers", much less "Man Makers".

I have done it.  I have finally stepped out of my cocoon of self-pity, bit the bullet and decided to lose the weight. Well, I decided I wanted to lose the weight as soon as I gained it.  I just never committed to really doing anything about it until now. My 40th is coming up in 8 months.  That scares the living crap out of me.  I also have a (gulp!) grandchild coming into this world no later than a month (to the day) from today.  When did I get old?  My 19 year old classifies me as "middle-aged".  When did that happen?  I don't remember considering people in their late 30's, or even late 40's, middle-aged when I was a teen.  Granted, most people wouldn't guess I was actually my age, I usually get at least 3 years younger, and have been -on good days- thought to be even 7 years younger... going by my face alone. My body, on the other hand, with it's BMI of 29 and extra 60 pounds (to get to an appropriate weight - a 70 pound loss would be my goal to