All posts by madgemidgely

Mandie Shattuck is hidden in plain sight. She is self taught painter, writer and performer currently living in Cheyenne, Wy. Her art is a response to our shifting consciousness in our ever evolving world. Her topics revolve around self awareness and empowerment. Sometimes it is goofy- there are links to other media platforms if you seek supplementary mental entertainment.
insight

January Jail Bird

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It’s crazy to think that 10 years ago today… I was in jail.

It wasn’t for very long, but when you haven’t thought too much about your white privilege, even 18 hours seems too long.

I never thought I would be the kid in my family to go to jail.  I was the honor roll student, who; on paper, looked like the All American Over Achieving Teenager. I was involved in student mock trial, I was obedient (overall) to the Law and God.

In fact, I never thought any of my siblings or cousins would go to jail.  Even the trouble makers; over all, we were all really good kids, brought up with respect.  None of the boys were very violent.

Looking back, maybe it was obvious I would be the one to go, if one was to go.

My temper was far worse than any of them.  And my quickness to hit or hit back, was evident.  Maybe it was because I was the only girl around 3 boys; maybe it was my latent anger issues at losing my mother at four years old.  Maybe it was a little bit of both.

January is a very precarious month for me.  My mother’s mother was born on January 31,1927.  My mother died on January 31, 1985. I went to jail January 17, 2005 and I got pregnant on January 31, 2007 (HA! The Chaste Moon or Snow Moon).  My first niece was born January 29, 2014.

Lot’s of birth and death and change seems to occur around me at that time of the year.  I should have expected it.  My life was already in a sort of shambles.

I was living with whom I thought at the time to be “the love of my life”; below poverty level, working two jobs, and fighting all the time.  The honeymoon period ended as soon as we moved 1200 miles from where we met, and from there things were on a rapid down hill slide.

Both of us had lost a parent at an early age, and were quick to anger.  I never hit him.  He smacked me more than once to get me to shut my mouth; but he never “pummeled my ass.”  He would get in my face and yell at me, maybe throw my stuff around, but I never thought he would go “too far,” or at least further than I could handle.

I moved out once, before the night I went to jail.  I didn’t have enough in my paycheck to pay my half of the rent;  and most of our issues revolved around money, which was just an avoidance of deeper emotional issues.  I was accused of not pulling my weight.  I would rather run than fight again.  So I packed my things, took them to a friends house, and left a note.

There he was the next morning at 6:30, waiting for me outside my job.  He looked haggard; exhausted and tear stained; begging me to come home, telling me that we were family and that he loved me, that things would be different.  And because I loved him, and believed him, and knew deep down, that our issues were emotional; because I was for the first time in my life, COMMITED to another human and our relationship, I went home to him.

And things were okay for a couple of months.  He even said “We have to cut this shit out, or one of us is going to end up dead or in prison.”  I definitely agreed.

The night I went to jail, was an average cold wet Oregon night.  I worked my second job at a fine dining Italian restaurant in downtown Bend.  It had been a busy night, so I stuck around after my shift to help with extra clean up and a shift drink.  One hard cider turned into three; and on an empty stomach.  I didn’t feel tipsy or buzzed, I was at work for a couple hours and felt fine to drive home.

I drove the three miles home feeling quite sober and when I got out of my car I felt drunk.  I made it half way to the door and realized I left the dome light on, and turned back to shut it off.  I leaned in turned it off and grabbed a couple of items from the back seat.  As I shut the door a cop car pulled up and an officer got out and approached me.

“What are you doing?” He asks, holding his flash light directed at me.

“I forgot something in my car. Why?”

“There have been some break in’s in this neighborhood,” he gets closer to me. “Have you been drinking tonight?”

I knew he hadn’t caught me driving, and we were standing directly in front of my house; so,  thinking I wouldn’t incriminate myself, I was honest and said “yes.”

I don’t remember how, but this led to a road side sobriety test.  Wherein I got incredibly nervous, and full of adrenaline not only because of the Law, but because my boyfriend came out of the house.  I knew either way the cookie crumbled, I was going to have hell to pay.

My boyfriend was obviously pissed to be woken from his beauty sleep. A look of loathing and disappointment was severe and evident across his face.

About the time I saw him, was about the time I spelled my own last name wrong.  Things were definitely going from bad to worse.  I already knew, my boyfriend would probably be mad that I was home later than usual… and he HATES cops… now one is interrogating me in our front yard, and I am FAILING.

He finally speaks up and tells the officer, “It’s fine, she lives here.  That’s my girlfriend.”

The officer says “Fine, you can go in, and make sure you stay in, for the night.”

I say “okay” and “thanks” as my lover escorts me to the door.  That is when things really start to blur.  I am shaking, and as we cross the threshold he says, “I am disappointed in you, we will discuss this tomorrow, but I need some fucking sleep because I have to be up in 3 hours, so you need to sleep on the couch.”

I didn’t argue, I just went to the couch with my work clothes on.

I must have laid there a while, and decided to go to the bathroom and take my contact lenses out.  He heard me from the bedroom, and got out of bed in a rage; yelling something along the lines of “lay down or I am going to lay you down.”

Now, I just don’t think this is something you say to a person whom you have hit more than once, and is also a rape survivor.  Add in the chemical mix of alcohol and adrenaline; I became a self preservation machine.  I don’t remember much, but the tussle.  He came at me, and instead of swinging, or blocking; I grabbed his hair, and I held on, keeping him arms length away for as long as I could until he pulled away, leaving me with tufts of his hair in my hands.

He was livid.  “You have to get THE FUCK outta this house, but you are not driving that car!  I am going to pull the spark plugs out of it, but you, you need to get the fuck OUT!”

I started freaking out, telling him not to touch my car.  I followed him out the front door grabbing at his t-shirt, ripping it away from his body. I got in front of him, attempting to block him from getting to the car, my hands still on his shirt, which tore some more; I lost my footing on the front stoop and fell backward holding the shirt, he was pulled forward and stepped off the stoop directly onto my face, breaking my nose.

I started bleeding immediately, and he saw it and freaked out.  He ran into the house and locked the door, and called 911.  I got up and went to the window, I saw him on the phone in the kitchen.  I tried the locked door.  It had since started raining, and I was soaked from falling on the ground. I noticed the blood, and I wanted to go inside; so I started banging on the kitchen window.  The longer he ignored me, while on the phone; the more frantically I started beating at the double pane.  That was until I busted through both panes of glass and shards were shot into my chest from the argon gas compressed between the panes.

My boyfriend yelled at me, saying the  cops were on the way, and that he wouldn’t be letting me back into the house.

I was freezing, I had no shoes on, I just wanted to take out my contacts and go to bed.  I didn’t want to fight, or go to jail, or deal with cops, or blood.  I just wanted to rest.  The escapist in me thought about running to the near by park, or hiding in someone bushes; the educated part of my brain reminded me of all the episodes of “COPS” that I had seen; and that no one ever gets away.  So I sat patiently freezing on the front stoop until the Authorities arrived.

I don’t remember what they asked me.  They took a statement from him, and in Oregon, in domestic disputes involving a 911 call…some one has to go to jail; and because one of the responding officers had already logged me in their book that night; I was the lucky winner.

I think the officers felt a little bad for me and the state of my face.  Both of my eyes started to swell shut and shiners were becoming evident.  As I recall, they didn’t cuff me; I had no fight left.

I was taken to the county jail, which at that point, I didn’t even know where it was located.  I sat in processing, and the check in officer asked what the other guy looked like, to which I answered “I think he lost some hair.”  He suggested I check out the domestic violence programs in town.  I asked for an Advil, and was told “no”, then escorted by a female officer into a large bathroom; where I was instructed to completely disrobe so that I could be cavity searched.  This was like some worst nightmare (I didn’t even know I had) coming true.

I was issued some ugly scrub type inmate clothes and taken to a holding cell until I would be moved to the general female population later in the morning.

They put me in a temporary tank with a woman who was probably in her late 50’s, early 60’s.  She was screaming and violently banging on the plexiglass.  “GIMME A NEW GODAMN DIAPER!  I SWEAR TO CHRIST I WILL WIPE SHIT ALL OVER THESE WINDOWS!!! I WANT A CLEAN DIAPER YOU MOTHER FUCKERS!!! FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING PIGS!!!””

How the hell did I get here?  I was freaked out; worried, tired, and scared as shit.  I huddled in the corner with a blanket and cried.  Again some compassionate officer must have had some pity for me, and the elderly lady was removed.

In the quiet cell, I called my dad, 1200 miles away.  This was maybe a bad idea, and I could hear the helplessness in his voice when he said “what I can I possibly do, from here?”

I said “I don’t know.  I just thought you should know.”  And hung up, defeated.

I asked if I could make another phone call at 7:45, to let my boss I know I wouldn’t be at work.  I cried and apologized for the collect call, I told them to take it out of my pay check.  “everything would be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

I hung up the phone, and about that time I was taken to be transferred to the female jail bird population.  I was given a brown lunch sack with a flimsy pen, a toothbrush, tooth past, a crappy comb, and a small pad of paper.  I was taken to a 6 bed bunk, and shown my mattress, pillow and blanket.  The officer advised me on hours of food and left me to assimilate.

I set my brown bag on the mattress and walked out into the commons room where every one else was socializing.  I sat at an empty table and just observed the goings on.  I was now apart of the great equalizer, and I had the outfit to prove it.  At this point, I realized “I am an inmate.”  Yet, I felt no guilt.

Some girl with a bunch of neck tattoos came over to me and sat down.

“What happened to yo face?”  She asked.

I gave her a run down of the hours leading to my arrest.

“Damn girl, Imma give you my numba.  And when I am outta here, you jus call me, and I will kick that muthafucka’s ass.”

“I really don’t think that is necessary, but I appreciate the offer.” I answered.

Another girl came over.  Taller and heavy set, “Girl, you must be tough… you just got here and you are hanging out in commons?  Man, I stayed on my bed and cried for a week before I came out to commons.”

“I really don’t think I will be in here very long, and I believe in making the best out of a bad situation.”

Tattoo girl asks “Whatchoo do?”

“Well, I work at a pizza shop… but I am a writer, painter and performer.”

Both girls nod, “that’s cool.”  The tall one asks what I perform.

“I perform spoken word poetry.  Would you like to hear some?”

The girls get excited and call some of the other women over to listen.

I make it through two of my favorite poems.  They ask for a third, I make it almost through the third, and my mind blanks.  I can’t remember the end; the lack of sleep is catching up to me, and I think I may be in delayed shock.  I get a round of applause anyway, and apologize that my mind is just too overloaded to do any more.

Tattoo girl, looks tough, but she is compassionate.  “That’s cool, girl.  I didn’t talk to no one for days when I got here.  It’s cool you shared that.”

“Enough about me… what did you do to get in here?”  I ask her.

“Ohhh, me and my boo got lost in the Wal-Mart parking lot, for, like, three days.”

“What?!?” I query.

“You, know, we got some real good meth, and we couldn’t find out way outta the parking lot.”

In my head I was full of incredulous laughter.  But all I could say, was “I can’t imagine.”

Lunch came and went, and all I wanted was sleep, but nothing about this situation made me feel comfortable laying down.  I thought about drawing but my hands were shaky, and my eyes were swollen and watery.

At about 3:30 an officer came in to tell me my bail had been paid, and that I would be released.  I asked who paid the bail and they said my boyfriend had.  It was only $250.00.  The kicker was this; in domestic disputes in Oregon, who ever makes the call, immediately has a state mandated restraining order on who ever received the charge.  The police informed my boyfriend that he could not pick me up; and they informed me, that I could not go back home if he was there.  I told them I didn’t have a ride home, they told me “that isn’t our problem.”

I was given back my damp clothes.  No one had grabbed me a pair of shoes, and I had no idea where the hell I was or how I would get home.

Once in the parking lot, I took a look around to try and gauge where the house was in relation to the jail.  I saw Pilot Butte to the South East, and started walking along the highway. I  must have looked quite the scene, walking shoeless in January with no coat;  arms wrapped around myself, wild hair whipped by wind, tear stained face beginning to amplify in it’s bruises.

I had probably traveled about a mile and a half when an old Ford F-150 pulled over just ahead of me.  The passenger side door opened and a young woman and her husband called to me, “you need a ride?”  I looked the truck over, it was old and beat up, a large crack in the back window.  I just stared at them for a second, trying to decide if this was a safe thing to do; exhaustion didn’t care, so I said “sure” and hopped on to the bench seat.

The lady asked me where I lived, and I told her my address.  They were familiar with area, which left time for them to ask questions like “Why are you walking along the highway with no shoes?” and “what happened to your face?”

I gave another run down of things, and finished up just as we pulled in front of my house.  The lady, noticed the broken window, and said “Are you sure it’s safe for you to be here?”

“oh yeah.  He’s not here right now… and the window, I did that.”

She looked concerned, but said “okay, be safe.” And they pulled away.

My life changed dramatically that day in January of 2005.  I became a warden of the state, I now had a new Master to appease.  I was no longer just a person with a couple of traffic violations…I was considered a domestic abuser, a person worthy of charges like harassment and assault; none of which felt true.

I used the hide-a-key to get into the house, took a long bath and l crawled into bed; attempting to forget my current reality.

Mumbling to myself as I drifted to sleep, “Fuck January.”

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If you would like to read more about this life changing event (and see my horrible mug shot), CLICK HERE.

Fit Body Boot Camp

Fit Body Boot Camp: Day Five (help i’m alive)

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 Lyrics for Help I’m Alive By Metric
It’s FRIDAY!!!  I made it a straight five day run!! And, guess what?!?! I am still alive!
My body is sore, and tired… my brain has slowed down a little from the hyper-drive it was whirring at last Friday, when I was anticipation of my first day at Cheyenne Fit Body Boot Camp.
I have discovered that most of my anxiety was about attempting to make it to the 5 am class, and the need to have to set an alarm for that to happen.  To solve that problem, I decided to commit to a time that is actually more conducive to my natural schedule; so now I can tell people I have got to go get, “My Nooner.”  Yes, folks, this IS the MOST action I have seen or had in YEARS! (wink wink)
It has been a pleasant diversion to have something to look forward to on a daily basis that gets me out of the house, and around people with a common goal.  It has been very interesting and insightful interacting with fellow Fitters in our private online accountability group.
This is something that most people who go to a regular gym probably have never experienced.  We literally have access to 24 hour accountability… if you have the connection to the interwebs, you can get a pretty rapid response from some one.  It’s pretty cool.  Go to work and tempted by birthday cake?  Someone will remind you of your goals.  Eat the cake anyway?  Some one will remind you, that you are human, and to get over yourself and get back on task for the rest of the day and week.
It’s not even tough love, it is a support group and a common unity.  I haven’t been in one of those for a while.
Five days isn’t long in the greater scheme of things, but it does bring me five days closer to how I would like to look and feel.
On October 2, 2013 I made this blog post, I want a better body, I want a better mind.
Many of the things I wanted THEN, are attainable by going through the Fit Body Boot Camp.  I didn’t know about the program then; and even IF  I had… I probably wouldn’t have gone anyway.  I wasn’t mentally ready, I hadn’t reached my rock bottom.
I have literally felt super high all week.  I am excited at the fact that this is going to continue to challenge me for as long as I choose to continue… No boredom here folks! I look forward to getting more into the diet end of things, in order to systematically change my bodies current state of affairs.
I’m going to tell you another one of my reasons why this excites me; I am kind of addicted to “before/after” pictures.  When I was in high school I was an average sized girl, I have always had big thighs and hips.  I wanted to get all my gym credits out of the way, so I took a weight lifting class, along with regular phys. ed.
I found myself in the weights class with a bunch of football players and wrestlers.  The coach had us all on one program; weekly maxing out. At my peak I could squat 320lbs. and dead lift 120 lbs.  As proud as I was of my strength, I hated how I looked.  I was building muscles and not burning fat.  I later learned that I should have been doing more reps with less weight. And, that the coach wasn’t worried about the body prerogative his female students.
Eh, you live and learn I guess.
Lucky for all of us our bodies are pretty malleable things, and if we set them up for success, they will usually follow suit.
Back to those Before/After photos; have you ever seen yourself in an old photo and thought, “hey I didn’t look so bad back then, I was being hard on myself,”  or the opposite “what the hell.. I don’t even recognize myself”?   I sure do.  Well I want a new one.  One that I look at and say “DAMN!”
And with that, I can’t even think of an excuse you might have today.
Fit Body Boot Camp

Fit Body Boot Camp : Day Four (mod some more)

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Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines “Humble” as,

: not proud : not thinking of yourself as better than other people

: given or said in a way that shows you do not think you are better than other people

: showing that you do not think of yourself as better than other people

Day Four of Boot Camp put that word into action.

Ashley was coaching again today, and let me tell ya; to watch her, is a humbling experience.  She has worked hard to make these exercises look easy and with precise form.

I will be the first to admit; sometimes I am a klutz (my name ain’t Grace for a reason), and sometimes I really struggle with hand, eye and foot coordination.  Today was one of those days.

IT is a humbling experience to KNOW you look like a fool trying to figure something out.  However, in my honest opinion, it is better to look like a fool while attempting hard a perfection, than it is to show off and potentially hurt yourself.

Today was jam packed (yet again) with physical activities that I do not have the strength to perform with out modification.

To watch Ashley demonstrate modifications is like watching a knife go through a soft stick of butter; effortless.

So in my head, I’m all like, “Yeah, okay, I can do that.”  But in actuality, my body is all like, “What the HELL? This BURNS!”

Modifications are not for pansy asses; in fact modifications are building blocks to getting to the full expression of the desired activity.  It is terribly humbling to KNOW that I am not yet strong enough to do certain things that only a few years ago, I probably would have had less trouble with.

It is humbling to know that what looks easy, isn’t always so; and that like a symphony all parts and pieces must work together  in harmony to reach the desired effect.  It’s humbling to literally have your ass in the air and be called out for improper form.

But, you know what?  It isn’t the least bit embarrassing (for me).  I KNOW, my trainers want me to be safe and to do things correctly to prevent strain and injury.  In that knowing I can let the Ego rest, and just listen and follow directions.

I don’t feel cornered or embarrassed because  it is probably rare for a person, who has never done something before, to be perfect on the first try.  Again reminded, that everyone starts somewhere.  There is no need to be ashamed by the process.

I admit, there are some things in life that I have mastered on first attempt; this is not one of them; and it makes me reflect on those times when it was me in the Master Seat.  Did I gloat?  Did I criticize those who weren’t up to par?  No.  I would offer encouragement and advice.  This is a huge part of the philosophy of Cheyenne Fit Body, and this is why this program resonates with me.

Coaches are not yelling at you to tell you how horrible you are; They are however yelling at you to keep going, and to not give up.  They are yelling encouragingly at you… and when you make it to an end of a session, you really feel like you accomplished something.

Even with modifications, I could feel the burn, and the burn means you are WORKING it!

If your excuse is, ” I am afraid of looking like a fool and being publicly embarrassed in front of people I barely know.”  I say pshhha.  That doesn’t happen here by fault of any trainer.  If you are embarrassed, KNOW , that too is all in your head.

To bring this point home, on the lighter side of things; I asked what some of the Fitters greatest fears were in class.  Not a single one said “fear of embarrassment.”

The most common answer, was “Farting during class.”  To which one of the trainers admitted happens A LOT.

Let’s face it, gas is a totally normal part of living.  Every one does it.

Part of the Fit Body Boot Camp is a dietary change; some are more sensitive to it than others.  Farts happen, I like to think of it as, my butt is giggling.  Farts are funny, people will use their mouths to giggle about it.

You know what would be more embarrassing than farting?   Holding it in so long that  you create a pathological distention of the bowel.  Imagine explaining that to your friends and trainers.

Get comfortable with natural functions of the body, and you will alleviate a lot of unnecessary worry that may be tainting your pretty little brain.

Are you interested in getting back into shape, and want to do it in a safe and encouraging environment??  Live in the Cheyenne , Wyoming area?  Click HERE.   Want to find a boot camp in your area, or start one of your own?  Click this link.

Didn’t catch the beginning of this series, and want to follow along? Click these links> Consult > Day One > Day Two > Day Three.

Want to donate to this blog?  HELL YEAH!!!!

Fit Body Boot Camp

Fit Body Boot Camp: Day Three (oh me,oh my)

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It has been very exciting getting into this regimen; so exciting in fact, that I have been loosing sleep over it.  I am tired as heck, but each time I go to lay down, my brain is spinning over what I did at class.  Add that into a few personal issues at home that are giving me paranoia… and you have a person who hasn’t slept much in four days.

I was amped to get up and try the 6 am class; so I did my best and laid down at 10pm.  And no matter how hard I tried to clear my mind, or listen to “soothing sounds to sleep to”; something would inevitably jostle me awake just as my body was starting to simmer in to slumber.

2 am, I was jostled, yet again, to my dog.  And I got agro… “Why the fuck won’t any one let me sleep, FUCK!”

And with that, my blood pressure was up, and the blood was circulating, and I was again wide awake.

So much for 6 am class.

My natural circadian rhythm, usually lulls me asleep at about 6:30 am.  About the time I was born into this world, and gave up the struggle of escape.  I knew at 4 am, this would be the inevitable outcome.

Instead of further frustrating myself I committed to making the noon class, which would give me ample time to rest and reset before going and getting my ass handed to me.

Like most first week Fitters, I am sore; but I think I might be less sore then some.  I am making sure to take my magnesium, and to start and finish the day with stretches.  I had no idea what I would be in for today, but I did see some ones status update… and they mentioned burpees.

I admire a good burpee, I have watched them on the interwebs.  I myself , had never tried one, until today.  Wait, I am getting ahead of myself.

Today was jam packed with things I haven’t ever done before… like a proper push up.

Yes, today I realized my form in pushups has been wrong, for, forever.

“Elbows go back, Not to the sides!  HEAD UP!”

Well, shit.

Not only have I been doing it all wrong, I realized the muscles needed to do a full push up; in me, have atrophied.

Instead of getting frustrated,  I took it slow and committed to proper form.  I didn’t look like a push up even with the modified form.  I felt like a beached seal, just sort of twitching. Each one harder than the one before.

“Do the best you can, stretch after each one if you need to!”

Yep that was me.  Twitch and stretch, twitch and stretch.

As ridiculous, as I am sure it looked… I didn’t quit.  I didn’t push harder than I knew my body could handle.

“Each one you do is getting you closer to a full pushup!”

Which brings me back to the blessed Burpee.  Here I am, lifting more body mass than I ever have in my life; barely able to even begin to get my chest near the floor in a push up… and here comes Burpees.  A push up is an integral part of a Burpee.  But instead of potential hurting myself, trying to get all rambunctious with it, I walked myself through it methodically.  I brought myself gently to the ground, got my hands under my shoulders; kept my elbows back, looked up, and twitched. I brought my body back up and reached for the sky…over and over and over again.

If your excuse is, ” I can’t even do a push up.”  Eat your words.  I can’t do a push up either, yet.

It takes time,energy, and consistency to build and train muscles for strength and endurance.  It doesn’t happen over night, and neither did getting out of shape.  We can get to either place, just depending on our attitude.

If there is one thing I would encourage any Fitter, or newbie who is getting into fitness to do; is commit to yourself to not get frustrated or give up on yourself.  To embrace the knowing it took you a while to get unhealthy, it is going to take you a while to get healthy.  If you get frustrated; KNOW the only person you are REALLY competing with, is yourself.  If you feel like quitting; KNOW that you began, because you were unhappy with your body, and that ONLY YOU can change that.  There is no magic pill that will make you wake up strong and healthy; full of endurance.

I chose Cheyenne Fit Body Boot Camp  because it is a very encouraging environment with accountability.  It is a place that will make you work hard and will push you; all while working with your current level of fitness.  No one makes you feel bad about yourself, or as if you are being compared to any one else..  If you feel that way, KNOW it is ALL in your head.  Turn it around if you find you are comparing yourself to some of the more advanced Fitters; then admire them as inspiration toward achieving your goals.  Most importantly; KNOW: EVERYONE starts SOMEWHERE.

If you  are interested in the Fit Body Program, and my journey through boot camp you can read about them at these links Consultation, First Day, and Second Day.  If you are interested in seeing if there is a boot camp in your area click here.

Fit Body Boot Camp

Fit Body Boot Camp: Day Two (whoo hoo)

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Well, WHOO HOO, Welcome to Day Two!

In order to prepare myself, I utilized the wonderful resource of the private accountability group set up by the Admins of Cheyenne Fit Body.

As I mentioned in the previous article Fit Body Boot Camp: Day One,  I had a few issues of light headedness and nausea.  I didn’t want to go into Day Two with those feelings.  I received some very helpful tips from Fitters who had struggled from the same issues.

It basically came down to properly fueling this human driven vehicle with food and water.

I don’t know about you, but I have always had some problems choking down breakfast first thing in the morning, and Day One was no different.  A banana and some peanut butter was definitely not enough fuel, and upon retrospect, I went to bed dehydrated and that proceeded into the morning and was further exacerbated by the work out.

By the time I got home on Day One, I was shaking, sick in the stomach and having cold sweats and shakes.  It is like my body was shocked into an unexpected detox, without enough moisture in my body to handle it.

I immediately knew I needed to get my water requirement for the day.  I also needed to follow the food guidelines given to me in my consult, and concentrate on fueling my body with nutrition.

In order to get into Day Two, I followed the advice of another Fitter, and made a heady oatmeal shake.  This make ahead shake is great for planning ahead, and is super easy on the stomach.  You can find the recipe for these shakes on this Pintrest  page.  I added Chia seeds, and Hemp Seeds to mine, as well as strawberry Kiefer and frozen berries.

I got plenty of water in the morning and supplemented with a Super Orange E-MergenC packet that helps to replenish electrolytes.

I made sure to get to bed at a reasonable time; decided I would hit up the 8:30 am class, so that I didn’t feel tired and rushed to consume 3/4 of a 16oz shake and water before working out.

These shifts made all the difference.  I had the fuel to make it though the work out without the maladies of Day One.  And no, the work out was no less intense.

The entire line up of work outs was very different from Day One, which is great for people like me; who maybe get bored with the same ole routine, everyday.

I am taking the advice of “easing into” the first week.

Sara was the days trainer, and she kept everyone motivated with her bubbly personality.  She helped those who need it, and demonstrated augmented form for those who may have injury or just haven’t yet built up the strength to do the full exercise form.

If your excuse is, “It’s going to be too hard for me” think again!

Everyone is encouraged to keep going and to perform all exercises SAFELY!

You work at your own level, and do the best you possibly can.  This is where augmented form is helpful.  Admittedly, my legs started to shake toward the end, and  I felt like a ninety year old trying to pull themselves up from the toilet.  I just kept moving, knowing that by next week, everything will be a bit easier.

I definitely sweat more on Day Two, probably because I was properly hydrated. I can’t overstate how important hydration is!  The skin is largest organ and sweating is a fantastic way for the body to detox.  Working out produces lactic acid in the muscles and when one is dehydrated, it can cause muscle cramping.  It is also a good idea to get enough magnesium which assists muscles and nerves in their function.

To wrap things up I will say that the 8:30 class  is more popular than the 5am class (go figure .)  Many Mothers attend while their little ones stay in close proximity and entertain themselves for the half hour of class.

So if you are a Mother, and your excuse is, “I don’t have anyone to watch my kid for a half hour.”  You just lost your excuse.  If you have  a small child ( or two) that can be entertained by a bunch of adults getting their butts kicked, (or if you let them use a tablet)  Even YOU can get an AWESOME work out, in the same time it takes to watch one episode of Dora the Explorer!

Fit Body Cheyenne, can help anyone transform their body.  And with a healthy body comes peace of mind.

Be a Fitter, not a quitter!

Fit Body Boot Camp

Fit Body Boot Camp: Day One

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I am making a strong guess that everyone who chooses Fit Body Boot Camp for the first time, has some nervousness or anxiety going in on the first day.  Actually, let’s be honest, they are probably nervous from the day they sign up until the end of the first class.

The bulk  of my anxiety happened the night before.   I hate nights before events, and this is certainly an Event (to Transform myself).  I attempted to get to bed at a modest 9 pm.  Which is hard for me on any given day.  Usually I go to bed between 12 and 3 am.

My first goal was to hit the 5 am class.  I wanted to get in there and get it over with because I had already spent four days wondering what exactly it would be like.

I got up at 4:10 after a restless night of “half sleep.”  I had showered the night before, already picked out my clothes… breakfast was the problem.  I often time, have a hard time eating food first thing when I get up, as it makes me nauseated.  I wanted a shake, but felt bad about running the noisy blender so early in the  morning.  I ended up settling on  a banana with peanut butter.  (Which in retrospect was not nearly what I needed for what I was about to experience.)

I got into the gym at about a quarter to five.  Night time Trainer, Ashley was there, bright eyed (except for the contact lens issues) and bushy tailed.  She gave a friendly introduction and a warm welcome.  There were a couple of other women there, getting themselves ready for warm up.

I wasn’t sure what to do, and as I am willing to admit; I have  a hard time initiating my own introductions.  So I sat on the mat doing some light stretches as more participants slipped in the door.

Finally at 4:59ish, Ashley  took to the middle of the circle and began to explain todays circuit of exercises.  There were four stations, each featuring two activities that would be repeated a few times.  I lost count of how many  sets  were happening, because this class is VERY high paced.

We began  with  some warm up sets of stationary exercises, and then quickly moved into the stations.

Now let me tell you, the hardest part  (for me); was facing myself, head on in the warm ups. In just a few short minutes, I could feel the effect of smoking cigarettes for  ten years.  I could tell I had lost most of my strength and endurance that I had only a short three years ago, from working on a sheep farm.

All I could think, is “oh shit, this is bad.”

I can’t tell you how many seasoned Fitters were in the class, or how many newbies; so if your excuse for NOT trying this program, is that you are afraid of people watching you…Let me tell you now; There is NO time to watch any one else.  The exercises require proper form, and it is vital to pay attention to what you are doing with your own body.  Ashley a, attentively walked around, adjusting those who needed assistance in form while encouraging every one to keep going.

At the second station, my body reminded me that I was not properly fueled and I started to feel nauseous and light headed.  Ashley brought me an apple juice and I took a little breather.  I took about a 30 second recoup and did my best at continuing.

Periodically I  feel sick, and sip more juice, breathe a little and get back into motion.

I find myself having some mental frustration that I am not already good at this.  Usually I can just pick up an activity for the first time, and feel confident.  I understand that not everyone feels that way about themselves, and that I am a self perfectionist by nature.  I have never done most of these activities before and admittedly I am out of shape.

I need to be compassionate with myself because, this is hard work.  It took time to get where I am now; unhappy about my body.  And in the process of being unhappy with myself, I haven’t been very compassionate with myself.

I believe that the accountability that Fit Body provides, will assist me and many others to learn to love; not just accept themselves. To feel strong enough to improve themselves in whatever way they are most inspired.

Being happy with your body is just one step in feeling confidant overall.

Imagine all the time you spent mentally hating on your body; imagine all the times you have complained about your body out loud.

Now imagine what it would be like to have all that energy back.  To have the mental freedom to not constantly worry about your bodily insecurities.  Sounds refreshing, right?

I don’t have any doubt, that The Fit Body Boot camp will live up to it’s claims, as long as I stay out of my own way.

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Je Suis Paris

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Here is a compassionate voice sharing the effect of the Paris events on his artistic soul. His message is righteous, and from one artist to another, We were all given senses and sensibilities to embrace our born creative nature. Do not suppress your own gifts. Do not be afraid of your own voice. Do not cower to those who wish to squelch your brilliant participation in this greater creation!

theheartsphere's avatarHeartSphere

photo“Do you think a society is good, or that people are good? We are only as good as the artists and writers can make us appear.” ~ Anonymous

It’s difficult for me to sit back and say nothing about the events of the past few days in Paris, France. But as the bloodshed continues headlining every news channel and permeating my mind, I cannot help but to voice my thoughts of this insidious sphere. I cannot help but be saddened for the loss of all lives, yet I’m reminded of a simple time in my life, one that seems so long ago, but one that solidified my duty in life long before I was ever aware of it.

I’m reminded of my love for creation.

What is it to be creative? What does it mean to spend hours creating, crafting and working only to step back and breathe life into…

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Fit Body Boot Camp

We Are All Fatists

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It’s crazy to think we are all weightless beings dragging around meat suits. Right?

Like here we are just roaming about superficially judging ourselves and others for their bodies.

And sure, we all have our reasons.

The other day, I posted this status to my Facebook, “How many of you are willing to admit you are fatist, even though you are ashamedly aware of it?”

I got five “likes” and one very sincere response.

The sincere response was from a friend of mine who lives in the mountains.  She lives an active lifestyle just out of pure necessity.  Here was her very honest, and candid response through our dialog.

” I suppose the day I lose all my excess fat maybe I’ll have a leg to stand on… Ha.  ”

To which I responded, ” I think it is sort of like racism, we ignore it until it is in our face. There are certain movements that are “body acceptance and appreciation” oriented and yet media is saturated by the idyllic bodies of 18 year olds. Funny that other cultures find obesity to be beautiful and a sign of wealth and virility; where as our society is pretty much disgusted by people who are not height/weight proportionate, despite the reasons, like hypothyroid, diabetes, and metabolic issues. Being “heavy” in this society is seen as a symptom of sickness, which plays in the mental health of the person with the weight. It is a lot of psychological fuckery.”

And here is where she really shares her observations not only of other humans, but of herself.

“Well overweight and obese are different to me. Overweight is pretty normal. I’m overweight, probably always will be. Obese makes me wonder how that happened. I wonder if it’s a psychical or physiological disorder. Or a mental disorder? Or laziness? Or were they raised to believe that their eating habits were normal and just fine, when clearly they are not?
I judge very fat and obese people, but only in one circumstance, really. Even though it’s only one circumstance, it’s not ok for me to judge. But I do, and here it is:
Someone walks in the door of the restaurant I am waiting tables at. A very large person. So large, perhaps, that their bottom hangs off either side of the chair struggling to withstand the weight of this person. This person orders a Coke from me, their friendly waitress. Strike 1. What are you doing? You’re making a terrible choice. “Of course!” I say with as much enthusiasm as a fucking Coke commercial. Maybe they’ve ordered a Diet. Even worse. Ouch.
You’re killing yourself. Can’t you see? I come back a few minutes later with a syrupy, dark, fizzy, delicious sodapop and place it down in front of the menu they are perusing. “Do you know what you’d like for lunch today?” I ask, knowing along which lines the answer will be.
“Yes,” this person says, “I’ll have the Bleu cheese burger and onion rings.”
Now, this Bleu cheese burger is a monstrous burger topped with Bleu cheese, bacon, onions and mushrooms. It’s delicious- and probably a thousand shitty calories with those damn delicious onion rings. See, I find myself in judgement mode for just a second here. “You’re making bad choices!!!!!!” Is what I want to yell! But of course, maybe that’s not it. Maybe this person doesn’t know why this food is no good. Plenty of places in America think that a burger is a good wholesome meal. “EAT MORE BEEF” was an actual billboard I used to drive by in Missouri when I lived there. Like somehow it’s the sweet nectar of life. Or maybe, this person struggles with their weight and decided that for one day, they were going to eat exactly what they pleased without guilt. Who am I to ruin that experience for them?
Who the fuck knows why this person is fat or if they care if they’re fat. But to answer your question, yes. I suppose I am a fatist, if that one moment when a grossly oversized and overcaloried meal is ordered out of the mouth of a fat person and I have a moment of weakness in which I forget to only love and never judge, for I have never walked in their shoes There. I admit it.”

This is a great example of the thought process we all go through in any sort of judgment that we have toward anyone; even ourselves.

We see what we see, how we see it. And we know what we know, because we learned it or heard it.  Ideas and ideals can stick like glue, especially if those impressions were made in our youth.

Impressed with her answer I sent her this ; “thank you for your honesty, it’s really refreshing to hear someone be introspective about it… because it is just that one second, ya know? But just as quick as it happens we try to distract ourselves from that moment. I think you are averaged sized, not overweight. You are height weight porportionate… you have curves but gentle ones. Unless you are trying to look like a weight lifter or a body builder, you look totally appropriate for you.”

The comment was removed, but she later noted how it took her longer to write the description of her feelings and think about it, than it her initial judgments.

Let’s break this down a little…

We all judge, even though we don’t want or mean to.

We are all hypercritical of ourselves. Slightly more lenient on those we don’t despise.

Despite our natural inclination toward or against competitive nature, we are immersed in a subconsciously competitive world.   A world which has no clear definition in its causation toward it’s competition; where we no longer forage for food or kill out of necessity.

We are inundated with images of some one else’s ideals for perfection, and we’ve bought what we’ve been sold.

All of this has been a long time coming.

If we choose to dig deeper into our individual reasons for fatism, we will see our own trauma.

Sure, it would be nice to have the ideal body of a perky and pert 18 year old posing on the cover of Rolling Stone or Fitness; but let us be real.  We All don’t have high fashion photographers and filters; trainers, and eating disorders.

Some of us just have stress and hormonal issues, some of us are dealing with loss; self control and dysmorphia .  Some of us never knew what it was to be thin, other are dealing with guilt.  Some of us have had children, or sympathy weight…  Our insides are tired and worn, our outsides give clues to the story.

Our meat suits define us in some way.  They physically relate our internal states of being.  How we feel inside is reflected back to our external perception in every conceivable way.

When a person looks like they have given up; there is a strong chance they probably have… but this place is no place for us to judge the whys and how.  It is our job to see the weightless spirit that exists within that skin, and to encourage it to keep going.

It is our job to have the curiosity enough to ask and assist, especially in a place where every one is trying to make an effort.  Be it the gym; the track, the trail, or just in general life.

Competition doesn’t mean pushing the other guy down.  True competition only exists with yourself anyway.

I am sure this is just the “tip of the iceberg” in future posts looking at the same issue.

I encourage you to look at your own “fatist” mentalities.  Really examine them and ask yourself their source.  Spend longer than a few seconds on this daunting task.  Ask yourself how it relates to your own body image and how you treat (or mistreat yourself.)

And next time you feel the judgment bug bite your ass, take a moment to ask where it’s roots really lie, and what you can do to confront it with compassion.

We are all hauling around meat suits as malleable as our mind and spirit.

Fit Body Boot Camp

Introduction to Cheyenne Fit Body 6 week Body Transformation Challenge

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Well the day has finally come!  I am gonna get off this fat ass and DO something about it.

After lying in bed a couple nights ago; thinking about my gymphobia.  I imagined my fear being lessened if gyms had short instructional videos on every machine; showing proper form and function.  A cheat for those newbies who feel anxiety or are mentally not ready for a trainer. I fell asleep thinking maybe if I pitched it to the gym I am a member of, I would be inspired to go.

The next morning I woke up, and the first thing on my  Facebook feed was a status from Cheyenne Fit Body Gym; advertising a 6 week Body Transformation challenge, with a satisfaction guarantee.  And for a few quick responders, the rate would be nearly half of their normal pricing.  Three easy payments of $67.00 and a positive attitude, and I could be on the path to the body I have always wanted.

I decided to email about the offer, and set up a consultation with owner Sara Goossen.  My motivation was amplified by the fact my house is only four blocks away.

I decided to check out the Fit Body Bootcamp website.  A short testimonial video gives a glimpse of some of the activities that are part of the Fit Body Boot camp.  Each session is only thirty minutes long, and boasts of maximum fat burn in minimum time.

I’m sold.

Sara was in a consultation when I came in for my appointment.  The woman she was meeting with was showing some nervousness about starting the program.  Sara commiserated with her, and encouraged her that in a month from now, she  will not be the same woman.  I couldn’t see this womans’ face, but I can imagine her brain might have been rolling it’s eyes.  It’s hard to see a positive future when focused on all the things you may not like about yourself.  I can already tell that Sara is not the type of instructor to let people beat up on themselves, instead she turns it around and encourages a positive outlook.

My consultation with Sara was short but inspirational.  She has a great attitude and a positive sense of humor.  We discussed my fitness goals, and the goals of the program.  Next, we got down to the business of my current body stats.  I was weighed; measured, and tested for arm strength.  A pretty simple procedure overall (that is if you can get over reading your weight on a scale.)  To which Sara responded, “This will be the last time you see these numbers.”

I was invited to begin today or tomorrow if I so choose.  I plan to start tomorrow.

Sara has a goal of reaching 5,000 Cheyenne residents through this program.  To support her goal I hope you join me as I chronicle this experience.  For those who have followed my recent blogs, they have been pretty depressing.  I hope to remedy that with this new action, and I hope you find inspiration with me as I chart unknown territories of my journey to a better body.  Stay tuned!

insight

It’s okay to say “Shit Sucks.”

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I hate my life  right now. I hate it.

I know all the “new age philosophies;” I have even shared them. But no matter how much you think you know; can prepare you for unavoidable sadness.

“Oh Crikey, Madge! Just turn that frown upside down! It’s all perspective! Change your view, and You change YOU!”

Fuck you. Fuck you all and your optimism directly directed at a situation you have NO clue about. Fuck you for telling me that I shouldn’t hate it… or maybe I should work on myself before I try to work on others; or maybe even “everything seems worse when you are in it.”

Fuck you.

I am well aware of this temporary situation. And I hate it. I hate that it adds so much pain to my already bucket full of painful life experience.

My life has been an ongoing struggle of appeasing my child self with my adult self. Imagine having that issue of a brain malady that makes you forget on a daily basis; what happened yesterday. And then having to daily settle yourself with an abrupt realization, day in, and day out. Yeah like that Sandler/Barrymore movie.

Only instead, the story is of a broken grandchild, whose best child hood days happened at Gram and Gramps, thirty years ago; and Gramps is gone and Grams is loosing her beans.

I walk away from all kinds of stuff; but I can’t walk away from this.

My Gram WANTS ME, NEEDS ME, RECOGNIZES ME, asks about ME and my welfare.

She has lost so much in the last three years, and her mind is starting to go; but me, despite my lackluster attitude, IS there. And I don’t want to leave someone who is losing their mind and seeks me out (despite all my flaws); I don’t want to erase yet another one of her external hard drives of relation and information.

It feels like she literally survives off the recognition of what she shares with those she has most relation with.

When I was younger, and in my more, “immortal potential” mindset; I wished and hoped my grandma would make it to the point we could de-age her, and then she could be my best friend forever. Now she wonders on a daily basis if I hate her.

I don’t hate her. I love her so much, that I hate everything about her life at the present point in time.

I hate that my uncle and I are the only ones who see her daily. I hate that no one else seems to care, because they have “their own life.” I hate how other family members can pick and choose what to do in their life, because it matters to them; and they say she matters but they never make the time, soa visit here is never on the list of “things to do,” unless things look grim.

I hate that I feel so alone in all this. I hate that I don’t have a partner or a best friends to occassionally laugh with and let sleeping dogs lie when the hour gets late enough.

I hate that I am doing this partly so my uncle can still enjoy his life, because I think he deserves that, and this job is really big, and he spent so much time with my grandpa in a care facility. I just don’t think he should have to do that twice. I also don’t think he should do it alone (because like me, he is unattached and creative.)

I hate that everyone involved has their best memories as a family, together. And that familytogether no longer exists, and is literally in it’s final throws of existence.

I hate that there is nothing I can do, to stop the process; or turn back the clock.
And worst yet. I hate seeing;experiencing and knowing all this, while still feeling completely incapable of remedy.

I hate my life.

I love my grandma.

My stupid “new age subscription” would tell me to leave, because it doesn’t suit me… but that belief would not be asking my grandma what she wants. And fuck all, she wants me here because she has always adored me. And the feeling is mutual.

Maybe I am just doing what my mother would have done have she not died at 26.  Who knows.

I do know I haven’t been able to commit to anyone in my life, but for some reason I have commited to this, and it hurts, and I hate it.

Everyday I am on the brink of crying, and I hold it back. And someday, sometime down the road those flood gates aren’t going to be able to take much more. I fuckin hate that too.

I am not a martyr. In fact, I am the biggest bitch of self I have ever seen… because there is no book to read that can fully equip someone for this. And those that do exist, will break “new age” programs right away.

Remember how we were taught to tell the truth? With people who have dementia, it is encourages to NOT tell the truth about certain things. I suck at this because I lost my censor years ago, and like I said, my grandma has been one of my best friends.

I don’t lie, much less to my best friends. In fact, sometimes I really upset them by telling the truth. This is now a daily occurrence with just pone person.

What the fuck?  My child self just can’t believe it.  Her mantra, is “this can’t even be real right now.”

I feel like I can’t do anything right. And I don’t think it is me, being too hard on myself. I think it is me being REALISTIC about my flaws and attractions. I understand that I do the best I can, but it is never enough; solely based on the fact that this sadness seems irrational because I have learn to justify past experience. And knowing I could do more, but not having the energy is purely self defeating.

All in all, I have not truly learned to “clear it” and move on. But “clearing” is a new age thing too… and maybe there are some things that we CAN NOT clear; we just have to accept as building blocks to our personalities.

I don’t want to “clear this and move on.” I want to face it, reconcile it; and use it for the betterment of my soul. High hopes for a soul that feels so dark.

I don’t talk about this stuff, because IT SUCKS! No one wants to hear this. I want to share some sort of triumph and add inspiration to the world. This feels fruitless; but you! You creative people may find some inspiration for humanity in reading this. You may feel some spark of recognition in the feeling. If you do, follow it. The world can always use positive inspiration even if it comes from the pain of others. We are all artists, and sometimes those who don’t create enough, need to fill space for those who have lost their inspiration to create.

It’s been like that now for 3 years and today is one of those days.