I should probably turn this entry into my journal more than on this. My wheels are spinning and at a stand still all at the same time.

I adopted the Mama Bear monocle when it became popular and mainstream but also for some other circumstances. I have a family of 4. We’ve called my son Baby Bear since he was an infant. My daughter has gorgeous flowing blonde hair. We were officially Goldilocks and the 3 Bears. The movie Brave came out and the mother actually became a bear as she was dealing with her stubborn teenage daughter. I saw flashes of our future. Then the flood of Mama Bear merch hit. What locked it in as something I identified with was a meme I guess you call it was “Mama Bear is a gentle way of saying, if you mess with my children I will rip your insides out.” Yup. That’s it.

I would attack/rip out the insides of anyone coming after the people I love. I’ve gotten to the point in the last 8 years that my job and workplace have become my family too. The problem with that is I don’t have that same tenacity to take care of and protect myself. To be the strong Mama Bear my human people need. The Mama Bear, I want to be.

We’re doing a “challenge” at church that’s putting things in a new perspective. It’s made me question, everything in my life. Why I do things. Where thoughts and behaviors come from. How do I move forward in a way that is what I want out of this. How do I find happy or at least contentment and celebration of the blessings I know I have.

From the beginning, as early as I can remember, I’ve been obsessed with recording and talking and playing radio. I’ve also been obsessed with fairy tales and romance and the idea that you aren’t complete without someone. I’m not complete without my Lord and my family. My daydreams go other places though and I need to steer the ship back around because the joy I have in my faith and my family is better than any daydream or fairy tale. It’s time for Mama Bear to get healthy so I can protect myself and family. My joy. I can only do it, with my God, steering that ship. I only want what He wants for me.

My life is currently a version of upside down, sideways and inside out. I think I, like most bears in the fact that change makes me growl and more apt to attack.

Move and job change, YIKES! Did I mention a milestone birthday in less than two months. I’ve been obsessed with bucket list/resolutions for years. Some years I don’t get any boxes checked. Others, I take fury asses and take names.

A picture yesterday reminded me of my 40 bucket list. Fly and see the ocean. Check. Run a 5k. Done. See a certain number on the scale, no where close. Have a college degree. Nope. Be more active in church, you got it dude. I’m sure originally there were musical goals somewhere, but these are the ones I truly remember. I’m at 4 out of 7 and that where the list will stay when the clock strikes twelve and wipes away my 30s and it will be time to start my 50 bucket list.

I’ve accomplished over half (bearly) of my 40 list. I should be proud of that. Focused on the proud and not the lacking. The Bear Necessities, so to speak. Just the thoughts in my brain. Today, as you paws hit ground. Crawl before running and attacking.

I have quite a few fires on my desk at the moment but my brain is super itchy from the last 48-72 hours.

1-I researched more on the now infamous Rachel Hollis Rant. I feel so stupid. Some of the various obvious things that were red flags I choose to see as Red Kool-Aid pouches. I wanted to buy into the everything could be sunshine and butterflies if I follow these steps that she swore were the steps to suck-sess. I do admit there were some of those practices that I don’t regret and maybe there was a little something besides cult Kool-Aid in those pouches but I felt better following some of those practices. The mind can do miraculous things. To sum it up, I feel stupid, I’m not completely sure I regret following her, I’m glad that when I did start to see flags I wasn’t completely cracked and I pray I never end up in her shoes. I think in some of her books she was completely honest but it was just veiled and twisted for her greater good. She said she was a hustler. Myself included, how many people bought her brand? She said not to let people see her “run”. Her life looked flawless. We didn’t see the real mess. At all. For someone who wants a different life or to make their life better and here’s the secret to success from someone who seemed (in my mind) genuine, why wouldn’t you buy in? I will make this next statement very clear. I do not have everything figured out. I let a whole lotta people see I’m a hot mess. I’ve loved and I’ve treated people like crap. I’ve been treated like crap and didn’t do anything about it. I am human. 2-Yesterday, I got to fill in on a podcast and it felt awesome! It was a few things combine on my 10-10-1 list. It felt freaking amazing. It reminded me of those goals.

Do I buy in to the Hollis Co I don’t even know what to call it. Yes and no. I am privileged. I don’t know how a whole lotta people can’t admit that after everything that has unfolded this year. Do I believe there are things to focus on in life, absolutely. My faith, my family and my friends will always be my focus. Are there things I want to focus on beyond that? Abso-f*ingltely. My career and my faith collided yesterday. My support system has grown stronger in faith in the last year (that I really haven’t followed the Hollis’ ironically).

This post isn’t to flat out bash anyone. Do I want to just faceplam what I’ve seen, oh yeah. Like I said, I feel completely stupid for drinking a whole lot of expensive Kool-Aid. It did teach me a thing or two though. I’m just going to go about a different way of living. These are the random things that my bear brain needed to metaphorically find a tree to scratch. Baloo the Bear style.

I talked in my last post about the word I chose for the year was “restore”. I have done nothing, for the most part, but gone in the opposite direction or surface level anyway. The more I analyze my behavior I’m not sure if it falls into being “restorative” or not.

I asked for a demotion at work. Let me write to you at first it felt like the biggest relief and then when then steps involved came to fruition, I was crippled with self doubt, depression and feeling like to be honest, and bad language comin’ up, a piece of shit.

Yesterday, I shut down. I was excited to go on a date with my husband, and we got to a point where we were in the middle of chaos and I broke down. A swirl took off in my brain and I ended up in the fetal position in the back of my mind. I spent most of the rest day in bed. I still feel lethargic today. But I’m trying to “restore” my health, by drinking water and I brought clothes so I can walk after work. I’ve read my devotional. I’ve done the things or at least started the things that helped me feel better.

I made the mistake of going online last night. I saw a rant and responses of at one point, my favorite people that I thought was helping my success a year ago. She showed a very clear view of a side of her that I was quite certain was there. The side that lead my spidey senses to break up. I did learn things from her though, and I’m trying to incorporate those lessons to see if they will help me restore the joy, I’ve wanted for almost 3 years.

Here is a break down of the things going down. A new house. Moving June 1st. How this is “restorative”? We are moving to a neighborhood that has been home for most of my life. I have space for every single member of my family. The street name maybe spelled different but it reminds me everytime I say the address or look at the street sign I’ll be reminded of God’s Armor. I am in the neighborhood of two women that I love so much that I can’t wait to grow that support system. We are 2 minutes away from my parents. We are 5 minutes away from Jeremy’s Dad. One of the “visions” that my ex-life coach encouraged was me running on gravel. I didn’t think that was going to be a possibility, but my home is less that a minute away from dirt. Where are my shoes? Exercise working out helps. It heals. It processes. It completes the stress cycle. It RESTORES. Changes in my job. Again, as they start to go down I feel like a trash person. A failure. I’m supposed to push, hustle be my best. Show my kids they can do anything. I can’t do everything. Jeremy told me, that as long as our kids know, how much, we love them and we put them first then I’m not a failure. Restore-My kids and how the people I know and love know how much I love them, is all that truly matters. God has blessed me beyond words and the creations he’s placed in my earthly care is what matters. My ego needs take a long walk off a short cliff. Time to untwist the fur.

Yesterday I realized my grand plans (that have evolved over the years) to celebrate my 40th are a bust. Surprisingly I realized its for a reason. Not my plans/my will but yours. I’ll be at church the night I’m supposed to be drinking and being stupid, but he is leading me to his house instead. Not gonna fight him. Its gotta be for a reason. How selfish to want to throw myself a party anyways. Instead of being bummed I was, oh, ok. Well guess that won’t happen.

It might be in the opposite way I’m thinking, but I think/pray this bear is restoring her fur and returning to her home. Just gonna take time. I got about 8 months to figure more of this out.

My depression continued well into December. Many “help” books I had read and influencers/podcasts I follow, have talked about setting a word, to help determine your year. Going in to 2021, I didn’t have goals other than to not feel like the trash human I did. I remember feeling great and motivated and I can’t believe it was all mania induced. I chose the word restore.

Then my world went all kinda upside down. We decided to start looking for a new house. Things changed at work. I got busier or more involved at church. None of these things are “restorative”. At the same time, they kinda have been.

Most days, I feel better. I feel the drive to do more than just get out of bed and get back in immediately. I started analyzing what’s helped. What hasn’t. What I know is most likely going to be a problem. I also set up some things to try to help to getting me feel better.

I thought posting for the first time since April would help, but its not. I want to go to sleep. But, oddly, its still an improvement from the end of last year. So if its words, prayers, growls or whatever, I guess I gotta March forth!

I went from knowing I was in anxiety hell to now thinking its depression, I start researching what is a mixed episode. Not sure I remembered that was a thing. Until I could’t function yesterday afternoon/night. My body stopped. I was nauseous, headache, achy, exhausted and a whole host of icky feelers. I couldn’t do the things I wanted to do and that is continuing into today. I know that this is mental but I pray that if I’m wrong, everyone stays safe.

My body aches. I feel like my muscles and skin are going to rip apart and the bones pop through my flesh. I want to crawl into a deep dark hole with a soft blankey and feel angels wings wrapped around me so I can bust out full of energy, joy and everything that is absent right now. As I just sang with my church service with my eyes filled with tears and them streaming down my face, “Let me be different”. God Bless you Micah Tyler.

If history is any guide, I need to keep moving to get through this. This ache. Stretch out the illness in my body so that it can go away, but not push my body to a point that I internally and emotionally drown. Lord. help me, please.

Ok. Weird title. This has been a tough few weeks and I was going to post on Facebook about everything. Then as I was mentally composing it this morning, I realized it was way too long and in depth to unpack in a little blip. So here we are.

I was going to post a picture of a nut. Like nut and bolt kinda thing. A piece of hardware. Its sitting on my keyboard right now. A reminder I can do hard things and that I have survived. This week has been technical hell. I’m not an engineer or IT kinda bear and I don’t play one on tv. Usually anything that requires the basic knowledge of either profession fills me with more anxiety than the contents of a hot air balloon in flight. As of the end of May most of the tools I have in my arsenal to put out the technical failures of my work environment, went away. The whole sink or swim thing. So how does a bear learn the backstroke, down a river, with rapids, etc.? You get the idea. I’ve had 5 equipment failure/fires in 4 days. I love my job. I dreamed of this career on and off since I was 17. The building is a second home. My people are truly my second family. My devotion to all of it is has me like a circus act on a unicycle on a high wire. I don’t know Hugh Jackman and doubt I ever will (Greatest Showman reference. Love that musical).

Anyone with a mental health illness knows that there are times that multiple illnesses hold hands, skip, hop and jump all over the inside of your brain. My bipolar 2’s bestie is anxiety. With the last business week occurring I’ve reached for some of my not so great coping mechanisms. I talked to my dr the week before and didn’t like her solution and didn’t really explore much of any other positive/productive options. Food and last night I broke four months of sobriety. I’m not an alcoholic but I know its not a great idea with the med cocktail I take everyday to keep me on planet earth. I am totally an over-eater and now have multiple health conditions because of it. With bipolar and anxiety’s relationship thriving they’ve brought along another oldie but a goodie, depression to the party.

One of my favorite things that I look forward to and find peace in is being outside. Duh, bear, wilderness. Makes sense right? I took a few days off of work that is a HUGE trigger and rave location for my psychological issues, lately. My fam went camping. I was so focused on it being perfect, frustrated when it wasn’t and feeling better I completely sabotaged it. My dr appt was a zoom while we were still at the lake and I bawled. I couldn’t conceal the crowd that was out of control in my furry noggin. She recommended adding more meds. Cutting an anxiety med in half. The first two days I followed the new procedure I felt like a zoned out zombie that embodied a numb, sobbing sloth. There was no roar to be found. I know the drill long enough to know meds take time. And there is a very strong possibility that if I had keep going this week wouldn’t have been as bad, but I didn’t. I stopped. We’re going to revisit that option though. Gonna start with a 1/4 a pill and see if I still have the effects, until I can get a little closer to the earth an not just barely existing in the atmosphere.

I know, I need to get my butt back in counseling. Financially its difficult. Physically its disabling. Emotional its debilitating. I know that I need to go through it though, so that I don’t want to crawl under my desk and assume the fetal position every other second. Eating my way through my pantry or killing a bottle of wine like I did last night. I know so much. I want so much. I’m so exhausted. Drained. I don’t know how to ditch the anchor around my fur so I can be the best Mama Bear I can be. Lord, please help me.

In full transparency I’m not expecting anyone to read this. I have so many thoughts running through my head that the easiest way to get them out and hopefully unpack some of them is to type them out. I’m creating a life I didn’t truly believe was possible for myself. I was pulling weeds in the front yard this morning. Frustrated that I let it get so overgrown and ugly looking. Knowing my parents have everything at their home perfect. Knowing, I want a property like that takes work, fearful that 1-I won’t get it and 2-that I won’t give it the love it deserves. As I pulled a week here and then there I started thinking of myself as a weed. How 10-15-20 years ago I would feel like I was a weed. Ugly, taking over, annoying, an accident and life would be better if someone would pull me out. Let me be very clear, I don’t think that now. I do think that some of the crazy that rolls around in my kaupf is the enemy, spreading lies like those weeds. Trying to stretch everywhere and choke out real life and love and fill the rest with a mess.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to be overly successful and find fame and adoration. Sing, write a book, anything. People to praise me and tell me how wonderful I am, because I sure as hell can’t see it. I expected the people in my life to love me so that the pieces that feel are broken and worthless would come together. They would complete me as a person. My happiness was their responsibility. I didn’t realize I was expecting it. It wasn’t intentional. My daydreams, always dream of that one person that I thought could fix all of it. Give me all the joy in the world, etc. If I was unhappy in my real life, my imagination would send in a knight in shining armor to love me into a lifetime of constant joy. Bless.

I’m becoming a person I didn’t know I needed or wanted to for that matter to become and a life that beats those daydreams. Now I need to figure out what to daydream about, because I know the only people that can make me truly happy are myself and God. Knowing how much I’ve already changed and the growth I pray continues, part of me wants to renew my vows with my husband. To take the expectations I put on him when we got married. Another part of me though, can’t. My faith has grown beyond anything I realize I always wanted and he is still agnostic. He does things and attends events for me and for our children, but I can’t make that promise again, without faith in both of our hearts and our marriage re-built around it. Life is not a movie. Its not a love song or story. I need to continue to find love in myself. Self worth and more grace. Grace upon grace and full of faith.

I was duped. Short and sweet and yet not the full story. I started this journey based on my beliefs and stoked by reassurance from people I would probably label heroes. Wanting to be happy, healthy and thriving isn’t a new concept. Chasing dreams and a future, isn’t either. Yet, here I am, feeling betrayed.

The first of May, I got the opportunity of what I thought was a lifetime. I watched some self care authors and speakers that I adored and was introduced to others. New concepts, for me anyways and helped my fire grow. Until the final speaker, my hero broke my heart. In her previous books, this author talked about “mommy shame” is bs. Which I totally agree with! Then in her final speech, she shamed the HELL out of parents that show emotion in front of your kids. “Don’t let them see you run”. Don’t let them see your struggling, your emotion, your fear. I apologize in advance for the language about to be dropped, but FUCK THAT! I grew up in a house with no emotion. I’m messed up because of it. My kids would be too if I showed them nothing but sunshine and blue skies. I show my kids emotion. I show my kids its good and normal to have emotions. I’m showing my kids what to do with those feelings how to positively process those emotions. Shame me all you want “sister”. I’ll raise my kids, you raise yours. This started our break up journey.

After that speech, I paused that wife and husband duo for 30 days or whatever facebook lets you do. “We were on a break”. Just as I started seeing posts again, the world exploded. We are in the middle of facing racial injustice and fighting to level the playing field of mankind. Having a bi-racial daughter, I was surprised I didn’t see posts. Then a post about our happy, wonderful marriage and anniversary. Congrats! Then a post announcing their divorce, with a happy, joyful picture with the post. WHAT! “After a 3 year struggle” … There were podcasts and thoughts on how to have a happy marriage on how to have an exceptional marriage, etc. At first I was upset. Another talk with no walk. Then, this morning I realized something. She did walk her own talk. They never let us see them run. If this was truly a 3 year struggle, we never saw a bit of it. They had a perfect facade. I pray for the sake of their babies they saw it coming and weren’t blindsided. If divorce is the path they are going down, I pray for them, regardless of my feelings.

They did help start my journey. They did give me tools that have helped tremendously. They did expose me to other authors and motivational speakers I love! I’m just choosing not to be apart of their “tribe” anymore. Of not, financially adding to your facade. If I can’t believe your talk, I’m not going to waste my walk. You walk your walk. I’ll walk mine. Sorry, Not Sorry.

Mama Bear ain’t doing great ya’ll. I decided a few weeks ago my health really needed to be addressed. I had used the excuse of the plague to not address anything going on. The people that have Covid, need medical care more than I do… In the process of figuring out how to get healthy I had to address how NOT healthy I am currently. I was devastated when the thing I thought was wrong was fine (hello crazy, nice of you to chime in again). It was worse when tests revealed I am prediabetic and my triglicer-something or another is wacky high and my other good something or another is low. How does my dramatic brain take that information? I’m a ticking time bomb! I’m going to die and leave my kids without a mom and they will turn into monsters and part of the problem of society instead of the solution and…Bless. As this information came to light, my Uncle was rushed to the hospital that turned out to be kidney failure from, drum roll please, complications of diabetes. That didn’t exactly help my crazy spiral.

I went home that night mad as all h-e-double hockey sticks. I was screaming and sobbing. I workout like crazy trying to lose weight and I literally tear my body apart. I’ve had an ankle reconstruction and torn MCL. The weight stays. I adjust my diet and drink enough water to drown a fish and nothing. My husband had been so supportive. He suggested surgery. I’m not sure I’m ready to make that leap. The next morning I did a v-log. Felt weird. I ended up deleting it. I’ve always been more of a words person.

I went to see my Mama and Papa Bear this weekend and in conversations with Mama she revealed that my Grandmother, Father and now 3 uncles (on my father’s side) all had/have type 2 diabetes. My grandfather on my Mom’s side also had it. I didn’t think type 2 was genetic but as I researched more, surprise surprise surprise, it is. I’m a nut on my families’ crazy tree. Genetically inhibited and attached to another object by an incline plane wrapped helically around an axis (thank you Big Bang Theory for my favorite way to say screwed).

So, now what. Yesterday, I took my first dose of Metformin to try and regulate my blood sugar. Later, I crawled into the bed into the fetal position. Exhausted. Defeated. Sad. Then I started having a panic attack. I laid there and weighed the options of taking an anxiety/sleep med combo nappy and getting out of bed and doing something about my life. I chose getting out of bed. I went downstairs and started painting the room that we’re turning into a gym. My brain is still reeling of everything I feel I should be doing for this situation but not really getting anywhere. I need to understand that even IF my body does start letting go of this weight, I might turn out to be type 2. I need to understand that I’m almost 40 years old and my body doesn’t like letting go of weight.

At this point. I’ve started the medication. I’m working on making my nutrition better. There’s always and definitely room for improvement. I have another doctor appointment in two weeks and hopefully getting a glucose monitor and all of its accessories to track my sugars. I’m going to keep working on my gym and then working out once its put together. Its time to fight, just adjust strategy. Philippians 4:13, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I have cubs to lead, love and care for as long as God blesses me with this life. Please strengthen this Mama Bear, Lord.