Goddie: Ep 1:Christian People

Goddie: Ep 1:Christian People

What are the fucking odds. I thought to myself as I stepped off the treadmill and saw before me someone from my past.

There he was, my roommates ex boyfriend just staring at me.

A little rewind: I had gone to Denver for college and bunked with 3 other girls in this mid sized apartment. One of the girls, Liz had a longtime boyfriend of 3 years. They had such a messy relationship and I was sure they both hated me at the time.

Fast forward to now: I had moved back to my hometown and now live in a loft downtown. There is this new start-up gym just a block from where I live that I have been going to for the past year and I really love it. It’s quiet and all of the equipment is new. So quiet, I would doubt the gym would get more than 10 people coming through the doors all day.

So, imagine my surprise when at 5:30 AM (The time I normally go to the gym) I see him and his new wife at my gym. What a small world.

Anyways, from our conversation it seems like he doesn’t dislike me as I had previously thought. In fact, I think he enjoys my company. Well, that was really just a fleeting thought until I realized that I might be a sort of project to him.

Explanation:He had invited me to his community group that has a bunch of people from his church in it. They meet just 3 blocks from where I live. I declined the offer because of my past experience with a 2 year community group that was full of gossip, hate, and every kind of bad Christian stereotype you can imagine. I saved him the details and just told him I had a bad experience with the last CG I was in, but that I was willing to try out his church.

So, I went to is church. Wonderful! I really enjoyed it and it came at such a perfect time since I have been searching for a new church. However, the roommate’s ex-boyfriend, David, comes up to us and asks my husband and I to lunch with his wife sometime. I said “sure, maybe next week.”

First, what the fuck was I thinking. I hate social gatherings and lunch with a bunch of hipster strangers sounds awful. Second, I realized in that moment that he might be trying to save me. He might think that I don’t believe in God and going to lunch is the first step of “planting the seed.” How funny that I have found myself the subject of a crusade I used to play out on other non-believers in my past.

Well, I will see him tomorrow morning at the gym. Talk to you next time.

Stalking: Episode 1. High School Reunion.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my high school reunion. Is it close? Sure, it’s only like 6 years away. Hah. I’m a little more than obsessed with comparing myself to others. In my opinion, a high school reunion is the epitome of just that. It’s a battle between master degrees and certifications. Who moved where? Who got married? Who had kids? Who got fat? Who lost a bunch of weight? The list is exhausting.

Am I the only one dreading their high school reunion even though it is years away?

Anyways, this thought gave birth to an extensive research exhibition of everyone I went to high school with. Just kidding, only the people I didn’t like.Which is everyone. Just kidding.

Kind of.

There’s really no story here, just a story of worry.

 

That Fitness Girl: Episode 1. My Own Truman Show

That Fitness Girl: Episode 1. My Own Truman Show

My other posts were depressing. Currently, I’m fine. The wave of hopelessness has passed and as far as I know, it won’t be back for a few months which is great. I’m not even trying to sweep things under the rug, I promise. I really figured out my issues but the idea of writing that whole thought process exhausts me.
On another note, I used to be this fitness girl on the internet. The kind that snapchats every meal she eats, writes a paragraph of motivational talk on each Instagram picture posted,solicits clients for coaching that she was not qualified for, films workouts, and has a sleuth of gym selfies under her belt that would make any gym bro proud. I had gained a following fairly quickly and with that a whole bunch of anxiety came with it. Suddenly, my every move was watched and I unknowingly became the hit star of my very own Truman Show.

Suddenly, my every move was watched and I unknowingly became the hit star of my very own Truman Show.

^ Lol. The idea of making this blog read like a magazine made me laugh so I decided to say, fuck it and start doing this from now on. Also, I apologize for the cuss word and for apologizing after the cuss word.

Anyways, I loved the attention. Honestly, I thrive on attention and I wish I was just being funny in saying that. I also liked that so many people were interested in what I was doing with my day. Seriously, I am so boring. Like, my idea of fun is Costco and I never have Saturday plans.

I went from being this shy weird girl to this popular hot fitness girl within a matter of months. I had never had so much attention from men and it became my motivation to stay in the social media spotlight even though it was everything my former self stood against. My former self being my 30 pounds heavier and hipster self. My 30 pounds heavier do-gooder self.

Eventually, I had hit a plateau in my fitness journey a.k.a got exhausted by my addiction to ex-lax( for another episode) so I started to gain weight. Suddenly, I felt like everyone on snapchat could see the half a pound I gained from the extra 50 calories the night before. I began theorizing of all of the possible gossip that my “followers” were spreading.I worried if people thought that the sudden weight gain was a result of an eating disorder, even though it was. I remember getting so mad at hypothetical people in this hypothetical situation that I had made up for in my head for them accusing me of having an eating disorder and losing weight the unhealthy way.
“How dare they say I didn’t work for it?”

“They are just jealous”

“They just have an eating disorder and can’t accept that I lose the weight the healthy way.”

Surprise! The real recipe for a quick 30 pound shed is a whole lot of starving yourself mixed in with some chocolate flavored ex-lax and a sprinke of weight lifting. Ta-da! Except I translated that recipe a little different onto my social media platforms: “Work hard, lift heavy, and count your macros.” Yeah right.

I was feeding my followers bullshit and they believed every word.

Every night I would re-watch my snapchat and imagine how others perceived my life. I only let them see the glamorous parts, and not my stash of ex-lax or the 40 minutes of cardio a day. I only let them see weight lifting and the piano songs that I made up that were actually pretty. Oh, I play piano by the way.

If I didn’t snapchat more than 5 times in one day, I worried if people thought that I was losing the battle with fitness and gaining weight. Except, when I really started gaining weight, it became increasingly difficult to hide it. I would declare a “bulk” in seasons when I had gained about 5 pounds. When all reality, my bulk was nothing but. There was no lifting heavy and eating a lot. Try eating 1000 calories tops in one day while working out twice a day for two hours each. I was getting out of control….
I realize I could write a novel so I have decided to compartmentalize my life into different series and episodes.

Thanks for reading. Can anyone else relate with this?

No one hears me.

My parents have always described me as moody. My husband and friends have always said that I’m either Up or down and that there is no middle ground. It’s been a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because I am unmatchable in the workforce. A curse, because mentally, I feel like I’m dying.
The past year has been hard. I feel like my eyes have been replaced with new ones that see the world differently than I’ve ever seen it. There’s no purpose and I can’t find a reason to get out of bed every morning or go to bed every evening.

I’ve been telling friends and family my new views on life. Dropping hints about death. I have even said probably around 10 times, “I would love to die.” Because I would. Dying sounds like peace.

Still, no one has tried to get me help. People don’t want to deal with it, and I guess I haven’t dealt with it since I’m not getting help either.

For the first time ever, I now understand why people commit suicide. No one understands your pain and no one tries to help. I really doubt I would ever commit suicide, but I can;t believe I can’t say with 100% certainty that I wouldn’t. I’m sad. I’m tired of my parents getting mad with me for expressing my feelings and just saying I need to get closer to God and changing the subject.
Tonight, I’m emotionally and physically tired. Tomorrow, I’m sure I’ll get a good run in, be on a happy high for five hours, then feel this way again around 3 pm.

Andrea and Johnny, I get it.

Why get up every morning?

Why get up every morning?

It has been difficult to find the purpose in living lately. Recently, my cousin killed himself and I feel stupid if I admit this out loud to others, but to me, it makes total sense. It feels wrong to admit that I could relate with him when my life is a sundae compared to his. It’s glamorous almost–for my age.

I don’t think I would ever end my life. I feel obligated to apologize to some random person reading this for not omitting the “think.”

The thing that irks me about expressing my feelings is the fact that I get these pre-approved blanket responses from people like “just change your mindset” or “you have to find purpose in what you do” or “there is purpose in life.” I don’t think anyone has ever really answered my question of “Do you think life is pointless?” Instead, they feel the need to speak to the reason why they think I’ve posed this question. Can I blame them? Not really. I would probably do the same if I was on a streak of happiness.

I feel desperate for help and meaning. I feel desperate for love like homeless persons are desperate for a nice place to sleep. The thing is, I have plenty of love. I can name dozens of people who shower me with love.

In writing that, I thought of God and how He is the answer to the love part of my problems. I haven’t been close to him. I’ve been thinking of him often, but not talking to him.

I feel the need to write more so hopefully this will offer me a little more purpose.

Scrivere says my tattoo so let’s try this out.