Just can’t fight this feeling anymore.

January 1, 2012 § 5 Comments

There are two stories I am clearly avoiding:

  1. The part when my father left.
  2. My obsession with powerlifting.

I’m sure these topics have lots in common, but the most relevant thread is this blog.  I started this whole deal because I was interested in figuring out my story, looking at all the pieces, putting them in order, polishing up my testimony.  I thought the hardest parts were going to be the ones about being a very fat kid, a very crazy teenager, a very fat and very crazy young adult.  Turns out, those pieces came fast and easy.

I just don’t want to talk about my dad.  But that’s what’s supposed to happen next.

I do want to talk about powerlifting.  But that’s weird.

Dilemma.

Here are my options:

  1. Quit writing altogether.
  2. Keep writing stupid filler posts about why I don’t write and what I’m not writing about until I get brave enough to look at the part about my dad and write that.
  3. Write about powerlifting.

Well then.  I guess it’s decided.

Happy New Year from my Jesus loving, formerly obese, bipolar, Paleo, Montessori, Charlotte Mason, homeschooling, POWERLIFTING, mommy blog!

And my guns.

 

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§ 5 Responses to Just can’t fight this feeling anymore.

  • kate says:

    see THIS is what i think of when people say “Rachel has lost so much weight!”

    It’s like ….yeah… i guess she has? did you not notice the important stuff though? like that she could throw you into that tree? or that she’s successfully keeping herself and at least 3 and oftentimes 4 other mammals alive through the darkest part of the year?

    you’re like chuck norris. february doesn’t make rachel depressed because she just punches it into march.

  • Karen says:

    Those guns are awe-inspiring!

  • Sara says:

    Those are some awesome guns, Rachel! I’m glad you have a blog and that I get to read it!

  • […] In the years I have spent unmedicated in adulthood, nutrition has been my chief protector against depression, but exercise has rescued me from mania.  Powerlifting is the equivalent of a seven year old moving dressers and double beds. In my most stable years, I was training 4-5 times a week, without fail.  My schedule was incredibly consistent and there were a number of times when I would double up my workouts, add extra weight, or throw in some hill sprints to burn off a mixed state.  Endorphins and hormones worked their magic on my brain chemistry.  It was a potent and effective medication.  And I loved it. […]

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