Over a month ago two burly young dudes walked into my YMCA and introduced themselves, repping the Complete Nutrition brand. I liked them and I was interested in their product description… we started discussing bodybuilding, and they told me I should come into the store to meet their owners, Morgan and Tyler, to learn more about who they were and possibly discuss an affiliation of some kind.

Being the curious cat that I am, I did. I popped over right after my workout: a sweaty, nasty, makeup-less mess eager to learn more.

I LOVED them. Here were my first impressions, off the bat:

1. Clean, organized, uncluttered store
2. Friendly, KNOWLEDGEABLE (they hire PERSONAL TRAINERS), outgoing, open, honest (with GENUINE CARE for the customer) staff
3. Fitness-savvy/well-rounded: aware of various industries and goals with expertise to address a variety of “niches”
4. Integrity: the brand has a clean, open, in-house tested approach to supps, with no push to upsell and a deep passion for customer loyalty
5. Ambitious…they’re going places. I love watching heart win over financial gain. The fact that they care about the organic integrity of their products and their effectiveness, provide free fitness consultations and input/training plans/nutrition advice to customers, and take the time to reach out and build a relationship with you speaks volumes for their future.

I was pretty thrilled to get a chance at a supplement goody bag!

Today I tried the Mixed Berry Blitzz pre-workout: amazeballs. Here’s why:
1. no weird asparthame aftertaste
2. the first pre that didn’t make me nauseous or jittery
3. the first pre that didnt make me act like a rabid squirrel
4. the first pre to give me a nice boost without the aftermath crash
5. best tasting mix i’ve ever added to my water.

#BOOM.

After legday I tried the Vanilla Whey Iso: Gluten free!

Again, blow my mind (and I’ve gotten free products before, which I didn’t feel like raving about)

SO good! Very angel-food-cake, and knowing that they’ve tested it made it that much more reassuring when it comes to effective muscle repair and building. An hour later, no stomach pain, which means it really is a pure Whey Isolate.

I’m really excited to continue trying these products, and no matter what happens in future, this girl is going to be a Blitzz addict from now on!

http://www.completenutrition.com/

Someone asked me recently why I blog about what I’m going through. I stopped to consider this.

Here are the main reasons I’m sharing this journey:

1. Writing helps me both face, understand, and accept things in my life.

2. Sharing as a person who has been through an abuse situation allows me to reach out and touch others, and hopefully to keep people from this, or worse. The pain it takes to own it publicly is less painful than my heavy and constant concern for the safety and wellbeing of others in similar situations.

3. Communicating raw emotion and processing things out loud humanizes my pain, and does not let me run from it.

These are the main reasons that I am publicizing this journey.

 

raw.

Today, I woke up late. I scrambled to pull on my slacks, a dress shirt, my rarely-used blazer.

No makeup.

Coffee, black.

Cold.

Ice on my car.

Dad’s help.

Driving… empty.

8:32-11:23 is a haze…

I remember that I walked into the courthouse, I saw him.

Shaking, in a corner, in two seconds.

Fast as I could.

In a ball, everyone watching.

Humiliating.

I stayed there.

The security guard motions me to a chair, kindly.

Shake my head.

People walking by, looking.

Him, upstairs, looking.

Humiliating.

9:03.

The girl with a similar case from the last court hearing walks through security.

I breathe again.

We link arms, and we go upstairs.

I find my attorney.

He gently reminds me:

You won’t win this.

(No evidence.

I left too soon.

Did I leave too soon?

I wasn’t waiting anymore.

Maybe I left too soon.)

Courtroom.

See him. Relaxed. Like nothing is happening.

I’m shaking, violently.

Furthest corner, furthest bench. Edge of the seat.

She comes back and holds me, and I hold her when her him walks in.

Her case is open,

closed.

Evidence.

She’s safe, she breathes.

I’m a deer in the headlights.

Everyone sees me, I feel so small.

I try to be smaller.

Less visible.

Maybe they will all go away.

Case is moved to another court.

The attorney asks:

do you still want to do this?

I consider running.

I remember how many times I ran.

No more running.

I barely walk.

Heels…

stupid.

Maybe I can crawl.

Humiliating.

The judge is my first judge. From last week.

I breathe.

It begins.

My memory stops..

I remember tears.

Shaking.

Looking for a trashcan to be sick.

I remember the judge, his pity.

I remember many, many words exchanged.

Attorney’s.

Mine.

Judge.

Not his.

So few words.

Protecting himself.

I know it’s over.

I knew it would be.

I thought I would be more afraid, when it was denied.

No evidence.

But no,

I feel courage.

I didn’t run.

I was small.

I was shaking.

I could hardly breathe.

But no running.

I stood.

I stood up.

I faced it.

For the first time in a long time,

i begin to feel

I will be okay.

I walk out.

Alone.

Shaking still.

Tears.

The guard catches my arm.

He says

“You will be okay”.

I nod. I smile.

I say “yes”.

And for the first time in many months,

I believe it.

 

“The Lord GOD is my strength, And He has made my feet like hinds’ feet, And makes me walk on my high places”

http://markmanson.net/6-toxic-habits

Check it!

James Michael Sama

Why do people who love you always lie to you and think it’s okay?

Why do people who love you try to change you?

Why do people who love you prevent you from doing what you love?

These are just a few of the questions I see pop up on my newsfeed every once in awhile, all with the same answer:

They don’t.

People who truly love you, do not do these, or other negative things to you. People who really love you will not betray your trust. They will not lie to you, especially repeatedly. Love is a product of honesty, trust, and mutual respect – without those things you cannot have real love.

This may be infatuation masquerading as love. This may be someone who is trying to control you by making you think that they love you. This may be someone you are attached to who you…

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Herein lies the beauty of my faith: my hopeless moments, the moments of “lament”, do not leave me there. Whatever your belief system may be, I hope, like mine, that it brings you powerfully upward and onward from your despair. Everyone has moments of discouragement and depression, but faith takes us higher. I see a broader perspective, a more beautiful inheritance. I see the firm foundation that takes me to a Rock that is higher than I. I am never left hopeless. In light of this, here is a glimpse into my soul this evening:

———–
I stare, empty, thwarted by a day of broken hopes and the shattered promises of my past. Physically at odds with the tenacity of my soul; the simple autopilot procedures of motherhood wear me thin: I am butter spread over too much bread, the fragile first ice of winter on a pond, a butterfly’s wing in a monsoon.

The book title eats at my subconscious as I consume my fourth meal of the day in a robot-like manner… I taste nothing. My mind wanders, and I briefly wonder if my bodybuilding goals have kept me alive with their nutritional demands.

These days I feel like a car crash victim, only my mind has whiplash and my heart is in a million pieces, like broken glass on a dashboard of memories.

These days I cling to the awareness that my spirit is not broken, and my soul is my respite. In the depths of my soul I find tenacity and reassurance; hopes unthwarted by life’s tempests.

The book still lies, binding uncracked. I breathe out audibly and begin…

for the next few chapters I stare at the dashboard, at each of those shattered pieces of my heart. I examine their edges, I see where they fit together, where pieces are missing, and I wonder if they can be recovered.

Each fragment cuts into me as I seek to hold it, feel it, understand it. Some pieces are still too sharp, my mind is not calloused enough yet to hold them; I leave them rather than risk the deep wounds I could incur. They will be there tomorrow.

The melodrama is not lost on me, I laugh at it, wryly. I step back, out of body.

I see a pretty girl, curled up in a childlike position in an empty booth in an empty store. I see her innocence; a confused puppy-like commitment to believe the best that has led to far too many taps on the nose and a cowering fear of rolled newspapers and raised palms. So much pain in those dark eyes.

I see her fears, the inconsistencies of her outward strength with her terror of the future: how to be alone? How to provide for a little one when she slips in and out of conscious thought during her days. How to move forward when she cannot yet remember how to breathe.

I see her brokenness. I recognize the depth of her daily struggle to make sense of the past with her childlike-mind, to accept what has been done to her. I see her fighting to the last moment of every day to believe that there is beauty, love, hope, and a future free of terror and pain.

I see how wrecked she feels, how she wants to flee. To recover; to sleep for a long, long time.

She can’t, she has to move forward. Her child needs her… and yet she cannot even find herself, cannot put together those pieces which still cut her so deeply. Cannot take hold of the wheel when she is still finding her feet.

How to drive when up is down, when left is right, when over and under and backwards leave you spinning in the dry cycle of life’s most painful moments.

These are the days I thank God for autopilot; for a child to live for. For the wild restlessness of my spirit that has at times been a curse but these days is my salvation.

These are the days I cling by my fingertips to truth, to faith. Courage is a lion, snarling at my back in my mouse-like trepidation, my unbelief in myself. It intimidates me into acceptance, into running, scared. Amidst the fear I notice that my legs are strong, that I am still moving. I notice that my breathing steadies, that my vision clears.

In these moments I realize that all that matters is that I keep moving forward, albeit in pieces.

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed”.

A quick answer to a dear friend who asked about HIIT routines and clean eating.

HIIT routines: I mix things up between INSANITY movements like heisman, high knees, drop kicks, high jump w knee to elbow, typical burpees, etc. with plyo movement like jump lunges, jump squats, box jumps, etc.

Typically I’ll write out or think out a set of exercises, 3-4, and repeat them 3-6 times through as a circuit. For instance:

Jump lunge, High knees, Mountain climbers, Burpees: 30 seconds to a minute of each, break 20-30 seconds between each set of four exercises, 3-6 times through.

——

Clean eating:

The very essential definition of clean eating, TO ME, is not eating foods with additives and preservatives. FOR ME, however, this doesn’t mean frozen food is bad, for instance frozen tilapia or asparagus, even though it affects nutrient absorption.

I choose to eat mostly fruits and lean proteins that are not genetically sourced, and I avoid foods with many ingredients, chemicals, additives, preservatives, food coloring, etc.

Most of my meals look like this:

Baked or boiled chicken OR baked tilapia OR lean ground turkey OR lean ground beef OR other fish

+ veggies such as asparagus, broccoli, spaghetti squash, etc.

+ healthy fat like 1/4 avocado, almonds, tsp pb, etc.

+ sometimes a carbohydrate such as brown rice, rice cakes, quinoa, oats, etc.

 

I do a slightly modified “IIFYM” routine in the off season, but in general I stick to protein, carb, fat ratios and have a limited amount of fruit, no alcohol, and rarely sugar or any treats. I feel amazing when I don’t, so I keep that to once a week or less.

 

Hope that helps! ❤

 

Well do I know pain;

Sorrow, my close companion;

Fear, my constant.

Surely am I familiar with grief;

Comrade to despair;

Friend of suffering.

Vulnerability my mainstay;

Confusion my counselor;

Weakness my default.

And yet He says “rest”.

How does one rest in anguish;

Dwelling in uncertainty,

Wallowing in discontent?

How can surrender be sweet

Which leads no straight and certain path to freedom?

How can growth rise

From barren lands

And ashy ground?

In a land of all questions

And no answers,

What hope supplies for want;

Consolation for emptiness;

Comprehension for ignorance?

What shall supply strength;

Impart joy;

Minister courage,

In a place of no water

And ceaseless thirst?

If I can, I’m going to scrounge up some of my old poetry. Most of it is “religious”… if you know what I mean. Theologically-inspired… this weather just makes me want to write again. Perhaps I shall…

 

God created me

to feel pain

to know sorrow

to hurt deeply

to give fully

to love wholly.

 

It is not in me

to put aside

the burdens of others

to ignore the tears

which slowly,

surely fall.

 

God made me

a woman,

of Adam’s race

to feel

and think

and know.

 

He did not make me

as a beast, tree,

stone

to accept unquestioning

the grief of a world

torn,

by death and sorrow.

 

I feel, grieve,

thirst

because he made me-

 

Different.

 

A creature meant to know

and be known

to hurt

and be hurt

to love

and be loved

 

To be set apart.

 

 

My soul,

eternal

burns the flame

of passion, grief,

and care

but also nurtures

deep within

my hope, and love,

and prayer.

 

Peace, that passes

understanding

as tread I now the sod

of earth,

my temporary home

in truth –

a child of God.

 

I was first made

to serve my Lord

with joy, and faith,

secure

to rest assured,

and live my life

established in

his Word.

 

And still,

this dying world

I call, ‘my home’

and here I am:

 

ransomed by God

a child of Wonder

 

bound: to shadowlands.

 

 

As trouble makes

my heart-beat

falter

when evil triumphs –

near,

 

I look upon

all that surrounds me

and know:

 

 

I was not made

for here.

from Spurgeon, of course…

 

Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.” – Is. 49:16 

No doubt a part of the wonder which is concentrated in the word “Behold,” is excited by the unbelieving lamentation of the preceding sentence. 

Zion said, “The Lord hath forsaken me, and my God hath forgotten me.” 

How amazed the divine mind seems to be at this wicked unbelief! What can be more astounding than the unfounded doubts and fears of God’s favoured people? 

The Lord’s loving word of rebuke should make us blush; he cries, “How can I have forgotten thee, when I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands? How darest thou doubt my constant remembrance, when the memorial is set upon my very flesh?” 

O unbelief, how strange a marvel thou art! We know not which most to wonder at, the faithfulness of God or the unbelief of his people. 

He keeps his promise a thousand times, and yet the next trial makes us doubt him. 

He never faileth; he is never a dry well; he is never as a setting sun, a passing meteor, or a melting vapour; and yet we are as continually vexed with anxieties, molested with suspicions, and disturbed with fears, as if our God were the mirage of the desert. 

“Behold,” is a word intended to excite admiration. Here, indeed, we have a theme for marvelling. 

Heaven and earth may well be astonished that rebels should obtain so great a nearness to the heart of infinite love as to be written upon the palms of his hands. 

“I have graven thee.”It does not say, “Thy name.” The name is there, but that is not all: “I have graven thee.” See the fulness of this! 

I have graven thy person, thine image, thy case, thy circumstances, thy sins, thy temptations, thy weaknesses, thy wants, thy works; I have graven thee, everything about thee, all that concerns thee; I have put thee altogether there. 

Wilt thou ever say again that thy God hath forsaken thee when he has graven thee upon his own palms?

I think I forgot about the quote-posts promise! My bad! 🙂

Here’s one to chew on in the meantime. I’ll throw a whole bunch of them out there as soon as I can. [no promises as to when that may be!]

 

A chasm is opening between the men who believe their Bibles and the men who are prepared for an advance upon Scripture. Inspiration and speculation cannot long abide in peace. Compromise there can be none. We cannot hold the inspiration of the Word, and yet reject it; we cannot believe in the atonement and deny it; we cannot hold the doctrine of the fall and yet talk of the evolution of spiritual life from human nature; we cannot recognize the punishment of the impenitent and yet indulge the “larger hope.” One way or the other we must go. Decision is the virtue of the hour. 

Charles Haddon Spurgeon