Looking in the Mirror...

I posted this before and after picture of me a while ago on Facebook/Instagram. The feedback was awesome, and I loved all the great comments and support I got for the massive change that my body has undergone over the past year. 

To be honest, I can't imagine how I was ever that girl on the left anymore. I can't believe I let myself do that, but the reality is, I did. When I showed Neil the picture on the left he said, "Well, yeah, but you were pregnant in that picture." Uh....nope. I definitely was NOT pregnant and when I brought this to his attention we both laughed for a really long time.

I'm still not at the goal weight (a little less than 10 pounds to go). But I never imagined being able to look back a year from then and say, "WOW! I did it! I really did it!" But I can, and it's amazing. It's hard and I hate it at times, but I only hate the moments, I don't hate the process as a whole. I love that I can now run longer than a minute without getting short of breath (not even exaggerating!) 

I have hated myself for a long time. Ever since I can remember, I was never smart enough, kind enough, funny enough, and yes, skinny enough. I had terrible self-esteem, I never spoke up because I thought my opinion didn't matter (those who know me know are laughing out loud, that's okay, it's true, I'm loud). I guess I finally gave up trying to be "skinny" enough. And then my self-esteem took an even bigger plunge. I wouldn't even look at myself, I would avoid pictures at all cost, I hated having myself somewhere for everyone to remember. I still remember the day that picture on the left was taken. I remember my anxiety level as Neil was taking pictures of Claire on the horse and I was right beside her, and I remember thinking, "Please don't get me in the picture, please." But he did, and there it is for all to see. 

But, now that I've not just changed how I look, I'm trying to change how I think about myself. I've seen myself become a totally different person. I'm very loud and my opinion will be heard these days. I like to laugh and have a good time, and I think I'm pretty damn funny and smart. 

But one thing is hard, every time I look at myself in the mirror, I still see that "fat" Ali. It's the strangest feeling. I see no progress and no change, yes I see my clothes are smaller, but I don't see the change on my body. The only thing I can compare it to is when you learn about eating disorders and they show you the picture of the clearly skinny, or even too skinny girl, looking in the mirror and she sees an overweight girl looking back at her. I see that girl too. I never understood how that worked until now. I have to be really good at telling myself that I'm fine, I don't actually look like that. But I do see the change when looking at two pictures side-by-side, I guess that's why I keep them around. 

I just want those who are trying and feel like a failure to never give up. It's not easy all the time, some days you rock it and others you don't. That's okay, it's not just about weight, it's about you! 

As I sit.

I hear Neil picking notes on the piano, I hear the clicking of the keys as I type, I hear the whir of the fan overhead, and I hear the hum of our home; our home in Texas.

This is our home now, I never thought I would call any place other than Utah home, I always dreamed of one day calling somewhere else home but I never thought I would have (the nerve? the courage? the confidence?) the something to be able to find a home elsewhere. But I have. It's only been a few short weeks, not even enough to say we've been her for 2 months, but it feels like we've been here for years and years. Not in a bad way, nothing of the sort, in the way newlyweds explain to others that it feels like they've been married forever, or the way a new mother will tell others that is feels like her newborn baby has always been a part of their family, I mean it in the most magical way.

I'm still scared, when I think of what's next, I've always known our plan of attack, I always imagined Neil and I in 5, 10, some-odd years building our final home and being content. But that's no longer the case, I don't know where we will build our final home. I want to go back to Utah, but I don't know if Utah will be able to offer what our family needs (mom, skip that part). .But Utah has family, familiarity, comfort, and, yes, home.

Everything has fallen into place more perfectly than I could have ever imagined, it has been as if Heavenly Father has been telling me every step of the way, "See, simply do as I ask and I will take care of the rest. I will never let you go not cared for." It's been a humbling experience, from the small things such as being able to enroll Emma in dual immersion in Texas, to the thoughts that plagued me the most...me.

That deserves more explanation. I'm an introvert, I will openly and proudly admit to that. I think it's fairly safe to say that in Utah, more specifically in our ward in Utah, I had very few to no friends. I don't say this for pity, I state it as a fact, I didn't mind. I had/have acquaintances and I had family...that was enough. Our ward in Utah was, dare I say, very unwelcoming. We had lived there for almost 5 years and upon leaving Neil and I could both say we left feeling as though we were still visitors to the ward. I had a couple friends from our ward and neighborhood, but one had moved almost 2 years ago and the other had moved just a couple of months prior, both out of state. That was all I had pretty much, only 2 people that I felt comfortable enough to stop off at their house and visit. When Neil and I moved I can tell you that only 2 people offered to help, one was out of obligation (he was just called to the bishopric and I could tell that he would have helped but he seemed relieved when we said we think we had it handled), the other was from a new girl in our neighborhood and I could tell she was genuine, but I didn't want to burden her. No one offered to help with children. Moving with 3 children was hard, hard doesn't even start to describe what we went through. I shed many tears of frustration those last few days. We weren't essential to our ward and we felt it, but again, I don't say this for pity, just as a fact and for a background for what's to come next.

The move to Texas scared me, what if I didn't make friends? Sure, in Utah I didn't have friends, but I had family. I'm an introvert and don't make friends easily...I need some sort of social interaction other than my children. I was scared, but Neil comforted me by simply saying that if we (I) absolutely hated Texas we could live there a year and come back to Utah. The first few days were rough...like extremely. I cried every. single. night. I regretted moving, I kept asking myself what I had done. I was the driving force behind Neil's decision to move. But then the first day of church came, never before in my life have I felt so loved and taken care of. After church I told Neil that people who move to Utah probably think Utahns are jerks, because seriously nothing compares to the love I felt that first terrifying Sunday in Texas. And it's never stopped. I have more friends here than I could have ever imagined possible in Utah, me and the kids are constantly going and doing with someone most days of the week. It's absolutely amazing. I have yet to hear something bad said about someone else and I LOVE it. It's a complete 180 from what I have experienced elsewhere.

Texas has been good to our family, Texans have been even better. I'm home, listening to the hum of our home, our Texan home.

The girlies ready for the new adventure!

Probably Neil's 2 favorite things about Texas.

I need to get a picture of Clark walking. It melts my heart and make me want to push him over every day! He's not allowed to grow up and not need me.

A post of the rambling kind

I always seem to write what is on my mind. I presume it's because when I talk, I feel like all my thoughts get jumbled together and I can't straighten them out to form a coherent sentence, but if I take the time to think and mull them over, I write my thoughts down and, viola, they're hopefully now somewhat coherent. But, it seems that lately I've had too many thoughts going on in my small brain. There are so many things I want to write out, so I can truly think about them and ponder on what they mean to me and how I really feel about it, that I just avoid writing altogether because all the different lines of thoughts become one big, messy thought.

If you can't guess, I think a lot...like a lot a lot. I love to think, really think deeply about things. You can't ask me a serious question and have it briefly thought about then dismissed. I may never bring the subject up to you again, but the chances are that I have scoured every part of my brain to find out how I truly feel about a subject, it's pretty intense up in here...okay, probably not.

An example of this exact situation is as follows: Neil and I have been going to the Gospel Principles class lately because we have some great neighbors and friends that are starting to come back to church, so we like to go with them. It's really great for Neil and I too, because it gets back to the basics and really helps us understand how simple the gospel really is. Anyway, a few weeks ago, so probably like 3 months ago (seriously, I've been thinking about this question for 3 flipping months!) the class was asked why we believe there was ever only one Savior. The teacher proposed that there could have been a Savior for ever decade, century, etc. why just one for all time and eternity? This is something that I've never really sat down and thought about, I just assumed the answer explained itself. I didn't have an answer on that day, I thought what everyone else was saying summed up my thoughts exactly. And they were wonderful reasons, because if there was more than one it wouldn't be significant, and the likes. Which, don't get me wrong, I still believe those answers to be true 100%, and I do believe they play into why there was only one Savior, but I wanted more...I'm never satisfied, I have to find an answer that speaks to me.

So, why do I believe there was only one Savior? Well, I'm glad you asked. And don't quote me on this, this is purely my own opinion and not church doctrine in any way. I'm probably so wrong on this that it's not even funny. But I honestly believe that ONE of the reasons there was, and is, only one Savior is because he was the only one who volunteered. I guess technically there were 2, but we all know what happened with the other plan...But think about it, we were all there and we all knew what our Father in Heaven needed and wanted, and yet, Christ was the only one who stood and said that he would do exactly as his father asked. We were all given the same chance he was to volunteer, and yet we didn't. I know we would all say now that we would have done what Christ did, but the truth is, if we were placed in that situation we obviously wouldn't, because we were placed in that same situation and we didn't. Get it? Did I lose anyone is that mess? Okay, good.

I actually talked to Neil about this and he believes it is simply because Christ is the only BEGOTTEN son of God, which of course makes perfect sense as well. I believe that to also be accurate, but Neil's a smarty pants. Who knows the exact reasoning behind there only being one Savior, except Christ and God themselves? But think about it for yourself, why do you believe there was only one Savior? You may be surprised at your own thoughts.

Other things I've been thinking about in my noggin (which I will hopefully find time to jot down in a while) are as follows: My sister, I know I've done quite a few posts giving praise to different members of my family, but she's my only sister and I've been thinking about her a whole heck of a lot. My daddy (yes, I still call him daddy at times), the same explanation of my sister goes here as well. Infertility and how it still greatly affects me, this will probably come the week of April 22, because, you know, April 22-28 is National Infertility Awareness Week (NIAW) and it's time to be aware, yo. Being a stay-at-home-mom, and how I came to that choice, this stems from recent political debacles which I normally don't like to talk about but this one subject pushes a button for me. Being LDS and how I gained my testimony, and why it still rings true to me every day. My weight...I think about this a lot (like I'm sure most women unfortunately do, no matter their weight or physical fitness). I don't like where I am weight-wise, I've actually never been happy with my weight, I've always thought of myself as overweight, but now I look back at pictures from when I was younger and even though I know I will never get that body back, I realize how screwed up my thinking was...but I know I'm now overweight and after baby bean comes i'm going to rectify that.

See, I think a lot. I don't talk too much, because I'm always thinking...