13 weeks

It’s almost OFFICAL training time for my next half marathon. It’s the Naperville Women’s Half, and it was wonderful last year… and I really really want to FEEL good this year, and so I’m training. Now. And I’m committing.

It was snowing when I started, and it was magical. I hope the rest of the winter weeks have more days like today, because it’s a lot harder to run in negative degrees without access to a treadmill.

Now- I foam roll.


Starting keto again after having gone carb crazy the past two days. Working 5am-3pm. Hoping to leave at 1 or 2, and maybe run if I can convince myself to grin and bear the cold. If not, something in the basement. I WILL work out today.

For the most part it’s business as usual, but people around me are concerned for my well being. I’m not ashamed, and have been open with anyone who asked about what happened. It was such a small thing compared to what some other people experience but it was such a big thing for me at the time, and I’m still a little worse for wear.

Notes from the tub.

No tags. Writing this for myself to look back on when I’m better. With the hopes that I get back to what I wanted to do, and become the person I think I’m supposed to be. I started this blog hoping to become the kind of person who blogs about their amazing life and amazing journey getting to exactly where they’re supposed to be and who they are meant to be.

I’m in he bath. I have been for a while today, and it’s honestly the only thing I’ve wanted to do for a week. I started seeing a new doctor a while back, and she ran thyroid test on me, which is part of my normal because I have Hashimoto’s thyroiditis. She ran my T3 in addition to my T4 and it was at the very baseline of “normal” range. Me, wanting a pull to fix me, asked for T3 supplementary options. I read somewhere that someone had success with a drug for T3 when their doctor had been ignoring their symptoms and supplementing T4 alone, which I’ve beenon n for 10+ years. Did I research it? No. But I’m not here to say mean things to myself. I’m working on that in therapy. It worked for someone else, so I wanted to try it.

I believe with my hear of hearts it was a big mistake. I’m so miserable. I’ve never felt like this in my life. I feel so low, and so anxious, I’m genuinely having a very hard time functioning. I’m so irritable all the time, I’m so on edge, and so ready to cry at any little thing that would have previously not upset me. I have been taking the T3 supplement since January 3rd. Today is the 14th. I did not take it today. I also started taking birth control right around the same time, but I’ve been on oral contraceptives before, and I have NEVER felt like this.

My memory of the past few nights is already foggy. I know last night was the worst, or maybe the night before because I tried to hold some of it in, and I’m not sure I realized what was happening.

Last night, I asked my boyfriend to let me doze off a bit before reminding me to put my CPAP on so i could settle down as we put on a movie of my choice to fall asleep to, and he chuckled and said “of course” as he very sweetly snuggled into me and hugged me a little tighter. And I lost it. I cried. I sobbed. I said I felt terrible for asking and said out loud how crazy I felt. I can see how I’m reacting to things, and I can see how I actually feel about them, but the physical response is so disconnected from the mental part of it. It’s hard to explain. My life is pretty great. I have a decent, but challenging and stressful job, I have a boyfriend who will do anything I ask of him who goes above and beyond to make sure our life is nice, and a family who would readily listen or help in anyway if I ever let them. I can afford the things I really want, and I have the luxury of knowing that I’m safe and loved, and have so many opportunities to do anything I really want to do. My life is the definition of privilege. But I’m miserable. I’m physically miserable, but not like… with my body. I feel helpless, and unloved, and alone, and scared, and like I’m a failure, and like there’s no way this can possibly get better. And when I started sobbing uncontrollably to my poor, unsuspecting boyfriend who has his own struggles with mental health, and knows where I’m coming from, and he tells me to breathe.

It’s been a full 48 hours since I started this. I wish I could say I’m all better, but I’m not. I am so much better than I was, and I haven’t cried at all today. All told, I’m pretty sure I had 3, maybe 4 panic attacks in a little over 48 hours. I’m not sure if they were all panic attacks, or just sobbing uncontrollably, but they left me pretty wrecked. I haven’t worked in two days. I’m going back tomorrow, and we’ll see from there.

I’m going to try to start posting daily.


It’s been a while.  A while longer than I planned/expected.  I expected to have a magical post on 10/23 after I ran the Naperville half marathon.  My BIG race of the year.  I thought I’d wax poetic about the merits of training, and positive thinking, and believe you can do all the things.  I felt all those things for a brief shining moment around 10:30am.   I PRed.  I finished my half marathon in 2:30:36 which is about two minutes faster than my 2014 finish time of 2:32:14. I’ve been chasing that PR since 2014, and when I saw how close I was to catching it, I sprinted so hard the last .10 mile I nearly threw up.   I ugly cried.  Just for a moment.  I headed to the “legacy table” to get my 5 times finisher swag.  I called my boyfriend and he told me how proud he was, and how he knew I could do it.   It was all perfect.

But…. my mental health isn’t quite right.  Rather than being proud of all my hard work,  I started beating myself up for all the time I wasted not putting in the work.  Speaking of work, it’s been hard lately.  It’s always a challenge, and my responsibilities are many, but it’s been weighing heavily on me for months- and this was no exception. I started to tell myself that I’m bad at my job.  Since I last spoke to you, I’ve been tight rope walking through my life.  The floor is lava.  My balance is terrible.

Two days ago, I fell.

I’ve been working 6 days a week for the past two weeks, a lot of them 5am-1pm shifts.  I’ve been sleeping in the second bedroom.  I miss my boyfriend.  I miss my bed.   This physical exhaustion is enough even in the best of mental health times to make me extremely sensitive.  I cry easily.  When I’m tired, it’s exponentially worse.  Tuesday, I’m struggling to be two people at work, when I get a call from corporate.  What was said, and what I heard might be significantly different, but the conversation ended with me hyperventilating, crying so hard I couldn’t talk, and deciding I’m terrible at my job.  I got off at 1pm, called my mom, and cried the whole car ride home.  Left to my own devices, I made some really bad choices with food, and did things I’m not proud of.  Hours later, I started crying again, and it got so bad I took a Xanax because I could not stop.   My sweet sweet boyfriend did all the right things, said all the right things, but I couldn’t stop my inner monologue.  So much negative self talk.  So much feeling sorry for myself.

Tuesday would have gone much the same, but I had the presence of mind to take a Xanax as soon as I started crying (got there at 9, crying by 9:15).   My good friend Kaitlin reached out to see how I was doing, and I told her:  Work 2, Katie 0.  She kindly reminded me that I’m due for my period.  Yes.  PMS often sneaks up on me- after years of being so irregular or just not getting a period- I almost never see it coming.  It does make me feel slightly better that my hormones are a factor in my recent emotional instability, but I have to be honest with myself and address the bigger issue.  I’m not in a good place with my mental health.  Something has to change.

The icing on the cake?  I have only worked out twice since the half marathon.  I’ve just been so tired, so down, and so full of excuses.  This is history repeating itself.  This is me back sliding.  I have to get my hands around this, or I will find myself more depressed, and at least fifty pounds heavier.

I’m going to a new doctor today.  She’s a primary care doctor, and not a mental health specialist.  She comes highly recommended, and I’m hopeful she can point me in the right direction of finding the right mental health doctor for me.   If not, I have to give myself permission to try someone new, and keep trying until I find the right fit for me.  Maybe putting this out into the universe (internet) will help me ACTUALLY do it, and not just talk about it.

It’s Sunday..  I wrote everything above this Thursday morning before seeing the doctor.

Re-reading what I wrote, I feel annoyed with myself for being so damn dramatic.  The floor is lava?  Come on.

I talked to the new doctor, and I actually got to talk to the mental health professional in the office right away as well.  I’m depressed.  It is what it is.  I’m taking steps to get better, but right now- I’m not totally ok.  And that’s ok.

I’m so tempted to edit this.  Whittle it down to a funny anecdote if I can, but I’m not going to.   It’s dramatic, and so angsty, but it’s honest.

It’s raining right now, but if it lets up, I’m going to go for a run.  If it doesn’t, I’ll work out in the basement.

Baby steps.  But I’m back.

I’ll be back soon. 

I’ve been avoiding you.  And this.  And myself.  

I’m a work in progress.  All of us are, so why am I so ashamed when I backslide?  

I struggle with some disordered eating habits, and a recent influx of work stress, disappointing fitness/weight loss progress, my upcoming 35th birthday… it’s all gotten the better of me, and I’m struggling to make smart choices on a daily (hourly) basis.  

I was seeing a therapist for several months, and I was feeling pretty good.  She changed practices, and I decided I was doing well enough on my own not to follow her or find another.  And I was.  For a while.  

This week has been extremely hard.  I think I’m PMSing on top of everything, and I keep hoping tomorrow I’ll be better.  So far, not really.  

I’m getting Botox tomorrow.  I bought a very exciting fitness related Groupon which has me TERRIFIED. I just need to get through the next few days, and I should be on the upswing.   I’ll check in soon, and hopefully feel more like myself.  

164 minutes 1 second

Today was rough.

Before the race and before I poured a lot of water over my head.

Welp.  Today was a tough one.  It was much hotter than I had been expecting.  The temperature jumped twenty degrees from my last long run, and the humidity was intense.  I knew it was going to be rough when I took Foxy out at 5:30 this morning.  It was pitch black outside, and the first time I was leaving the house.  I had been wearing a long sleeved moisture wicking hoodie over my race outfit because we keep the house just a few degrees above “I can see my breath.”  Add in the fact that the last several miles the sun tried to roast me alive, and it’s no surprise I didn’t PR.
It’s ok.  I keep telling myself that it’s ok.  I kept saying “it’s a hard, hilly race.  I don’t expect to PR.”  I was lying.  I was hoping to PR.  The first four miles felt GREAT.  Then it got a little harder each mile after.  I walked.  I don’t know exactly how much I walked, but it felt like a lot.  While I can blame the weather (and it did make a huge impact) I’d be lying to myself even more if I didn’t address my midrace mental breakdown.  I know better than to keep looking at my watch- but as it felt harder, and harder, I kept looking.  And then calculating.  “If I stay at this pace for the next five miles- I’ll still miss my real PR. If I can cut a minute off of this mile, I might make it. Nope.  Not happening.  What’s the point.  If I’m not going to PR, what’s the point.”

My PR is 2 hours 32 minutes.  Somehow or another, my watch disagrees.  It was the 2014 Naperville Half.  My watch shows my PR as 2 hours 41 minutes which was the Naperville Women’s Half this spring.    I came in three minutes short of getting a new “watch” PR, and the way I KNOW with absolute certantiy that my mental break is what truly held me back…. I had it in my head that my watch PR was 2:47, and I fought hard for the last three miles to beat it.  If I had known it was 2:41- I would have fought harder SOONER and probably beat it.

So.  Trying very hard not to beat myself up.  Back at it Tuesday with a five miler.  Praying for the weather to cool off. Happy to have finished. 

“Hey, Josh. Come outside and take our picture!”

OH!  So- after I got home, I walked in the house and was greeted with a terrible smell.  Last week, I cleaned out the fridge- and something must have leaked in the garbage.  The garage had started to smell the day before yesterday.  Tuesday is garbage day- and we planned on rinsing out the can at that point.  It could NOT wait until Tuesday.  I rolled the garbage out, lifted the lid to find so. Many. Maggots.   It was the stuff of nightmares.  I I got some rubber gloves, several garbage bags- and I wrapped the trash bag that was the problem (and the only bag in the can) until I ran out of bags.   I looked down- and there was definitely a maggot on the back of my wrist.  I sprayed my entire arm full blast with the hose while shouting “get off get off get off get off get off!”  I then called a local restaurant within walking distance of my house and asked if I could put a very well wrapped, very stinky bag of trash in their dumpster.  I then walked (all the while still in my race gear- salty and sweaty as ever) to said restaurant and waved a friendly thank you at the man inside as I passed the window with my stink bag.  He probably assumed I was dumping a body.   While I normally would have rinsed off and then taken a post race bath– today required a full silkwood shower.

Stink bag!

Should I wear my medals to work tomorrow?  Since the real reason I signed up for this race in particular was the Fox medal?

My new favorite medal!
He likes it, too. (He’s my favorite Fox)