mental health Archives -

PCOS, Hair loss, and amazing headbands…

July 9, 2017 by coachshelby 8 Comments

"but my hair is my thing" — “but my hair is my thing”

I debated whether to write about this topic. Not because I am ashamed, embarrassed or trying to hide it. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. I joined this big bad social media world in an effort to find other women just like me, dealing with PCOS, and who are not letting it control their life. And along the way, I have myself become a voice in this. And I am proud of that. I want to show other women with PCOS that they aren’t alone. We are all dealing with and struggling through the adversities we have been handed.

But on the flip side, I don’t want PCOS to be my identity. I am more than PCOS. We are all more than the struggles we are facing.

It’s off topic, but this came to light the other day at the gym. It was the strangest and coolest experience I’ve had. I saw two girls staring at me. THE.WHOLE.TIME. I was working out. I was thinking, “Can a girl get some squat work in without others creepin’ on me? Ya I know my gym clothes don’t match and my hair is greasier than the bacon pan sitting on my counter from breakfast- but c’mon. We are all here to get work done.” And I continued on, and went about the rest of my sets. And I found them in the bathroom, before I left, and one said ” You are that PCOS girl. The one with funny faces and great hair. On instagram!”

Oh fuck. Now I’m the asshole who thought they were judging me. Geeze, Shelby. Chill out.

And we chatted and talked for a good half an hour and I found out they both have PCOS and I made two new friends. And as we said goodbye, one of my new home girls said, “You are so much more than funny faces and great hair. I’m so glad you are real.”

**Am I putting it out there I am fake? Shit. We gotta fix that**

Dose of realness for the day: hair loss

My hair has always been my thing. Even when I was heavy and couldn’t fit in my clothes and had to wear stretch errrrrthing, my hair could always look good. It never betrayed me.

Until it did.

After I had my daughter, my hair was coming out. And I’m not just talking a little bit. I am talking handfuls and clumpfuls at a a time. I would wake up in the morning with a rat sized hair ball on my pillow.

To make it worse, I was heavier than I ever had been, I was in the the deepest, darkest pits of postpartum depression, and I was tired. Not the “didn’t get enough sleep last night tired” the “I’ve been up for 4 days straight crying and trying to take care of a baby who I think hates me because she won’t stop crying and I can’t fix it and my world is ending” tired.

I couldn’t believe that it was happening. As if I wasn’t dealing with enough issues already.

But one day, I just decided I didn’t want to let that be one more thing I was sad about. I may be chubby, and tired and crabby, but I WILL NOT HAVE BAD HAIR.

So I started researching. What can I do to get my hair healthy and growing and not falling out in chunks?

HAIR REPAIR STEPS WITH PCOS

BIOTIN: I started taking biotin. It is a vitamin that helps preserve and promote hair, skin and nail health. I still take it to this day. ( You do NOT need some fancy, 40 dollar MLM magic pill, I promise you. My biotin costs 4 dollars at Walmart, y’all.)

NIOXIN: To promote regrowth, I started using the Nioxin shampoo system. You can buy it from your hairstylist, buy it at a reputable salon or even on Amazon. It helps thinning hair and I saw tremendous regrowth in the months that I used it.

Clean eating: I started cleaning up my diet. When I cut the processed junk out of my diet, my overall health improved. But so did my hair. It’s so important to understand everything you put into your body affects the outside of your body. Skin. Hair. Weight.

FitnessFoxheadbands: I was in the depths of depression when my hair started falling out. I was sad and tired. I wanted so badly to feel confident about my hair when I felt so insecure about everything else going on in my life. I went to the internet in search of a headband that would not only cover my thinning spots in my temples, but be stylish, and wouldn’t pull to prevent even more breakage and loss and wouldn’t give me ‘headband headache’. I found the etsy shop FitnessFoxHeadbands. They were so cute, and so inexpensive- I had to try them. I am so glad I did. I am still wearing them almost daily, even though my hair has improved. I wear them to the gym. To Target. Out at night. I am not one to promote or discuss products, but I am so passionate about them. They truly helped me feel more secure and pretty when I was in a bad place.

*If you want more info on Fitnessfoxheadbands, check them out on instagram (@fitnessfoxheadbands) or at their website www.fitnessfoxheadbands.com and use my code SHELBYE and you can buy 4 get 2 free!

This morning I noticed my hair is thinning again, in my temples area. And I am going to restart Nioxin, and make sure my eating is clean and I am taking my vitamins. And I am going to be okay with even if I am doing everything right and treating my body the best I can, sometimes we can’t fix everything. I will do my best, and rock headbands until then. And I will be real and accepting of the fact that this might just be my hair. My hair will always be my thing. And I will make bald temples cool.

Originally posted 2016-01-30 10:50:59.

Anxious Extrovert

July 9, 2017 by coachshelby 5 Comments

I know that sounds like a contradiction.

I enjoy being around people. I enjoy laughing and hanging out and being around others.

But the problem lies in the actually getting to that point. It takes a lot for me to get over my anxiety to actually get me out the door.

Just recently, a girl I went to high school with happened to relocate down to Georgia from my home state. And she happened to wind up around the block from me. I was extremely stoked.

‘Wow. A real live non internet friend. One that I can get drinks with and go out with and take a break from mommy life with. This is great.’

And we talked and chatted and I was excited for her arrival.

Until she actually moved down here.

My phone rang.

Why is she calling me? Are we on that level? What do I say?

I immediately felt bad as soon as it stopped ringing. What the hell was I afraid of? Why was it so hard to do something that made me feel the least bit uncomfortable? I then hopped right on Facebook messenger, our normal comfy way of communicating, and came up with some excuse as to why I couldn’t answer. She said she was near my house and wanted to see if the kids wanted to play. That’s it. Just a friendly spontaneous playdate. Not the end of civilization as we know it.

Damn you, anxiety. You’re making a liar out of me. The dog wasn’t down the street and you missed the call. You were staring at your screen waiting for it to stop ringing.

I’ve always been like this. I needed ample time to prepare and control my anxious feelings and worries of others judging me. I don’t know why I assume people are judging. I was constantly making lists and excuses and stories up to why I couldn’t get out of my comfort zone. Explanations in my head for why stepping out side of it would lead to my social death.

It was crippling at times.

And no one believes me when I say I have anxiety. That I’ve suffered with it for years.

“You’re so friendly and outgoing and funny and easy to get along with. That’s impossible.”

Oh honey, come hang out with me before I have to go to any social outing where I am outside my comfort zone. You’ll witness it. While you’re at it, bring the Xanax.

And I am a natural born leader. I enjoy parties. I’m loud and friendly.

-but-

I am a flake. I am awkward. I hate surprises.

A walking contradiction, really.

I was lonely. I was in a new state. I was either doing work or with my kids and that was it. I needed to get out of my comfort zone. As easy and familiar as it was to stay in that bubble of caution, it was quite literally hindering my growth. My kids don’t want to talk to me about wine and carbs and the gym. Either does my cat, trust me, I’ve tried. Little bitch.

So the next week, this new friend tried again. She didn’t give up hope on making our friendship work. She asked me to come hang out with her while her kids were out of town. And we were having a great time. And then she sneak attacked me with, “We’re going to go to a social networking event for women. Tonight. Get ready.”

Slow your roll, homie-what? No. I’m not prepared for this. How can I sneak out of her house when shes not looking? I’ll say a squirrel bit me and I had to go home. Shut up Shelby, Get your shit together.

I finally decided to face my fears of last minute plans. Let go of my fear of judgement. I had to just get over my own bullshit.

“Okay, Let’s fucking do this. Where’s the wine? ”

We went. And we had a blast. We talked for hours and laughed. We talked like we had known each other for years. I even peed in front of her after too much wine. If that doesn’t say friendship, I don’t know what does.

After the night was over, I went home back to my comfy bubble. I felt sad. How much had I missed out on in the past because I was uncomfortable? Because I refused to face my anxious fears? How long had I been letting my own ridiculous notions of others perceptions of me hinder my growth?

Looking back, every time I’ve gotten out of my comfort zone-whether forced or on my own doing-I’ve had a positive experience. Not once did I say, ” I really regret doing this.” I have however regretted when I stayed back- held back.

I am not saying the anxious Shelby will ever go away. She needs to be nudged and pushed into new situations all the time.

Take for instance this social media world. I am anxious and nervous and apprehensive with every post. But every time I put my heart out there, I am glad I did. Because the truth is, we all have our things. Our issues. Our quirks. And sometimes it takes seeing that other people are kinda like you to be more okay with that.

So here’s to all my anxious extroverts. I’m here for you if you ever need someone to talk to. (Just make sure it’s an email. Or a text. No phone calls. Don’t work me up like that.)

Originally posted 2016-01-28 14:22:07.

Today I’m Thankful For PCOS

July 9, 2017 by coachshelby 1 Comment

Today I will sit around the table, surrounded by loved ones. We will do as we do every year. We will reflect and say one at a time the thing we are most grateful for in our lives.

I’m sure the regulars will come out.

Family.

Friends.

A home.

A Job.

And then they will get to me.

I know what I want to say. I’ve been reflecting about this for some time. I have been trying to figure out how exactly to express the thing I am most grateful for. So instead I’ll likely joke and say ‘leggings’ and or carbs and life goes on.

But I want to tell you. I think it’s important.

It is for me this year.

(Before I tell you, I want you to promise to hear me out? It is going to sound crazy. But…trust me, okay?)

I am thankful for PCOS.

Yes. You did not misread. I am thankful for the condition that has wrecked havoc on my body, mind and life.

Please Understand I am not trying to lie and say I am glad I have this diagnosis. Chronic illness isn’t something you can just sugarcoat with positivity and smiles and make it seem like it’s anything less than it is.

It sucks.

I am certainly not sitting here trying to convince you to give thanks that something bad has happened to you. I am not thankful for losing my aunt too soon. I am not grateful my dog is sick. I am not thankful for the fatal crash I witnessed last week.

I wouldn’t wish PCOS on another woman. If I was given the choice, I promise you I wouldn’t chose to have PCOS. If they woke up tomorrow and had a cure for it, I’d be in line. It is horrible sometimes. It has made for some bad, scary trying dark days.

I remember one of the dark days. On this August day, I wasn’t grateful for PCOS. Laying curled up on the floor of the bathroom, the chills of the square bathroom tiles were cold on my skin, I lay there. In that dark moment, as I fought between uncontrollable sobbing and fighting back the sound escaping my lips so no one would hear, I traced the tiles edges to make the time disappear. I wanted to disappear. As I did, I remembered something someone once told me.

It’s a bad day, not a bad life.

I sat up from that floor, and thought,

“Shelby get through the next minute. It’s just a minute. “

I got through it.

And thought,

I did it.

Now what?I have grown to realize it’s all in what you do in those ‘Now What?’ moments. It’s then when you have you decide. What’s next? It’s when you have to make a choice.

For me that particular August day, it was deciding to accept and face whatever ‘bad’ day/pain/fear/situation. I would find something good. If I couldn’t find something good, I would find something valuable.

That day was the day I got online and typed in PCOS Support. I was shocked at how little information there was available. Even worse, in the support forums, it was all so sad and negative. Women talking about all the things and dreams and happiness PCOS was going to take from them.

Today, I am grateful for all the things PCOS has given me.

On those that I had to go school and face being called the ‘fat sister’ by the senior boys because I’d rather cry in the bathroom than tell my mom about it, I learned to be resilient.

I’d like to say it played a part in giving me my wit and sense of humor. Being the fat friend wasn’t easy, so I learned to be funny instead.

I learned patience, while I waited for an explanation year after year for why my body was acting different or didn’t feel right. I stayed patient while my body failed me cycle after cycle.

And when I had enough of feeling clueless about my own body, I became my own health advocate.

It’s really hard to love a body you don’t understand or feel comfortable in. It has been one of the hardest thing’s I’ve done, letting go of expectations of what to look like and hatred of my own body for not following suit but I’ve discovered self love. When you start to love yourself, amazing things happen. When you love yourself you forgive yourself. Self forgiveness lead me to bravery in ways I wouldn’t understand. But I chose to have to believe things happen for a reason.

And today, on Thanksgiving, PCOS gives me hope.

That August day I felt hopeless. I can’t tell you why I suffered that early loss that summer. I don’t know how I wound up feeling so alone and wanting to disappear myself, surviving by getting through minutes. I thought for the longest time that PCOS just wanted to take away everything good in my life.

So I don’t know what possessed me to seek out support online. On any other given day I probably would have joined in with the other women feeling victimized and letting our diagnosis take away from our lives. But I didn’t. Maybe I was ready to accept my diagnosis. Maybe I wanted to help.

Maybe I refused to let PCOS take one more thing from me.

Whatever it was, I wasn’t looking back.

And so I am grateful, because that day

PCOS Saved my life.

( It just took a really round about explanation to realize that.)

and when I get stuck in a ‘Now What?’ situation, I remember…

It’s a bad day, not a bad life.

(To the amazing souls I have been blessed with through entering this PCOS community, I am grateful for you. I am entirely blown away every single day by the inspiring, remarkable humans you are. And to the souls who dare to share their stories even when it’s scary, who forgive and love themselves fearlessly, and don’t ever quit-I’m grateful for you. You are an inspiration. Keep being brave. )

Originally posted 2016-11-24 05:01:29.

PCOS and Dieting= a fatal combination

July 9, 2017 by coachshelby Leave a Comment

PCOS sucks. There. I said it. It is the most common endocrine disorder among women, and it doesn’t just affect one area of your body. It takes over the whole damn thing. It can cause infertility, facial hair, male pattern baldness, anxiety and depression, infertility, insulin resistance that can lead to diabetes and the best part- it makes you more prone to being overweight, especially in your stomach.

Fun stuff, right?

Well add this into the mix. Society hates fat people. I said it. The society we live in tends to judge overweight people as being lazy and lacking self-control.

Can I tell you something? I am a woman with PCOS, and I have tried and fought to lose weight my whole life. Spoiler alert, it didn’t work most of the time. I tried every extreme, quick fix, straddling the fine line into disordered eating, only to see the scale budge a few pounds. After a while, your body can’t continue in that extreme state and quite frankly, it makes your body more prone for other issues. So I couldn’t figure out how to lose weight. It wasn’t due to lack of self-control, or being lazy and unmotivated. I just couldn’t understand why I couldn’t lose or keep weight off.

Well, I was dieting. All well and great, right? Wrong. Because with dieting I have found a cycle of stages we often find ourselves stuck in.

I am sure you are reading this and you can relate. Whether it was a 30 day magic shake diet or a year long one. I am sure you have gained weight back, or have felt like you failed your diet.

Here’s a secret: Diets Don’t Work!

In fact, I am case in point that goes to show dieting can lead to disordered eating. Let me explain.

I spent most of my life hating my body. Here I am: overweight, unable to lose it, not understanding why I could work out and eat like other women and not lose, and being judged by a society that’s flooded with weight stigma and pressure to be thin. Yea, I disliked my body. And I wanted to change it. So I wanted to try anything to change it. ANYTHING.

Fun fact I didn’t know before my diagnosis of PCOS and my education and research: Most women with PCOS have insulin resistance. Insulin resistance makes it extremely difficult to lose weight. (See my last post about this.) Also, high levels of insulin in the blood turn off the satiety trigger ( the feeling of being full) which leads to tendencies to binge.

Here’s the lethal combination:

PCOS making weight loss difficult+pressure from society to lose weight and be thin= birth of my eating disorder.

Did you know of all mental illnesses, eating disorders has the highest fatality rate? True story. But we aren’t here to discuss ED. Another day. Let’s get back to why we are here. The dirty word- Dieting.

This constant cycling of dieting to binge is disastrous on our bodies. The yo-yo dieting cycle causes higher insulin levels and higher inflammation levels in the body. With PCOS, you already are at a disadvantage with your predisposition to insulin resistance.

When insulin levels are high, so are carb cravings. Ever find yourself saying, ” I need some freaking bread or I’m going to hurt someone!!” ?You can thank your body insulin for being a raging bitch.

So what do some in the PCOS world suggest? GET RID OF ALL CARBS ! THEY ARE THE DEVIL!

Let’s slow down. We don’t want to break up with carbs before we have to, right? I wouldn’t. For most, removal of all carbs is not necessary and in some cases, unhealthy. For myself, when I abstained from carbs I found 3 things:

I was more likely to binge> raising insulin levels
I felt restricted and limited> lead to disordered eating tendencies
Continued my cat and mouse game with the cycle of dieting. ( see above.)

So what the actual heck do you do with PCOS if diets don’t work?

On my next post: The non dieting guide to PCOS

Originally posted 2016-11-01 21:23:50.

But Am I Enough?

July 9, 2017 by coachshelby Leave a Comment

I am so sorry for my absence.

I say this as if I know people read this. It may just be my mom. But in any case, I have been absent from my blog.

I have been struggling. When I say struggling, that is a true understatement. Between moving, gaining weight, battling anxiety and depression, and feeling insecure in every aspect of my life, I was drowning.

I worry that sometimes I have to hide that side of me, the one who feels lost at times. The one who still has darkness. The one that constantly doubts herself.

Over the last year, I have been on an amazing journey of self realization. This journey I have documented on social media. And in most aspects, it has been an absolute blessing. I have met amazing women, made amazing connections, and learned more about myself and others than I ever dreamed I could.

But I have often times felt out of body in this amazing, incredible, emotional experience.

I have made an effort to share my story. Raw. Open. Vulnerable. Scary.

And it has been amazing. It has led me to strength and courage and bravery.

But I am not always strong. I am not always courageous. And I am not always brave.

The last few months, I have been sad. I lost focus and motivation. I truly felt like every move I made was an act. And for me, that was hard. I am not one to hide my emotions. I have never been in a position before where people are looking to me for support and inspiration. What am I supposed to do when I can’t figure my own shit out, let alone help others?

But, I have spent time working on myself. I have been focusing on how I want to feel, not how I want to look to others. I have spent time eating and working out and treating me right, not on looking a certain way on social media. I have dedicated my time and thoughts to not impressing and inspiring others, but inspiring me. Because I had lost my fire.

I want to say, to all of you, that it’s okay to be lost. It is okay to feel like you are in a dark room with no exits. It’s okay to feel alone and scared and not enough. Everyone has been in that dark room. Everyone has doubts.

It’s what you do with them. I am not a perfect person. I do not have answers for everyone. I barely have answers for myself. But I have a heart that wants to help. I have a soul that wants to share. I have a drive to make changes for myself and others. And I have a will that cannot be shaken.

So I have been down, but I am not out. I may not have an amazing transformation before and after picture, but I have a story to tell. And so do you. So share your story. The good. The bad. The ugly. The everything.

Because you are enough. I am enough. We are all enough. And we need to remember that our stories, good or bad, ugly or pretty, help others know they aren’t alone.

I’m back. I am so back. Here’s to kicking ass and taking names.

Originally posted 2016-10-23 17:45:16.

Yes, I gained weight. No, it’s none of your F*%king business.

July 9, 2017 by coachshelby 1 Comment

Let’s just get this off the table.

I’ve gained weight. Numerically, about 20 lbs.

Some of you are judging. Some of you are letting outs gasps and saying, “Bless her heart.” . Some of you are texting your girlfriend to say, ” I told you that PCOS chick gained weight! Ha!”.

Whatever you’re thinking, well-STOP. First, because I want you to know I am completely accepting and comfortable with this fact. I don’t need your sympathy. I don’t need your comments. I don’t need your judgement. Because I am just fine.

And oh yea, because it’s NONE OF YOUR F*#king business.

My hesitation in writing this came from the fact that I am a health coach, and because of our messed up society that is stuffed full of diet culture, where worth dictated by numbers on tags and scales, I know many of you would find me hypocritical.

How dare she coach women about health when she clearly is not in control of hers?

Well I dare to because I think health is more than what the industry driven by shame and fueled by fear of not being what is currently considered ideal. I find nothing healthy about spending all my energy hating myself and obsessing over food.

Health to me is improving your quality of life. But what happens when your pursuit of physical health is destroying your mental health? What if the journey leads you down a road of obsession over food and using fitness and nutrition as a punishment and reward system?

In a season when every fitspo, home health coach will be filling your social media with their programs to “fix” you, I want you to remember one thing- you shouldn’t be shamed into health. You’re not broken. The health industry is, preying on our insecurities. Motivation driven by hating yourself doesn’t get you very far.

I gained weight. file-dec-10-11-26-50-pm I don’t need to justify it. I just stopped equating my worthiness with my physical appearance. I didn’t “let myself go”. The only thing that I let go of is my fear of judgement about how my body makes others feel.

But regardless, I don’t owe anyone an explanation about my body. I could list the numerous life occurrences that some may accept as worthy of justification for weight gain. I could apologize about how I did XYZ to get here, and quickly follow up with how I am going to resolve it. I could explain to you that at my thinnest I still felt unhealthy and trapped in the diet cycle. I could make sure you understand why I’m still acceptable where I am, even though society might say differently. But I won’t.

Because my weight is not something that needs to be resolved. I’m heavier. And I am happier. To me, this is healthier.

I’ve found acceptance in the fact that health is individual. It is not one size fits all. It is a complex balance between mind and body, and the connection between the two is crucial to understand.

And for those who view me differently for it, I bid you ado. You are the exact unhealthy weight I need to lose.

I have gained. I have gained strength to break up my unhealthy relationship with connecting guilt and reward to food. I have gained the understanding that my confidence can come from something other than my body. I have gained the knowledge to see how closely related your mental health is to your physical health, and both need to be nurtured. I have gained the understanding that loving the hell out of myself doesn’t come with size restrictions.

And I have gained the strength to tell anyone who has something to say about my body that I don’t owe you an explanation. And I certainly don’t need your validation.

Originally posted 2016-12-10 23:44:21.

Pancakes and Panic Attacks:Parenting with Anxiety

July 9, 2017 by coachshelby 2 Comments

We woke up today, just like any other day. It’s just you and me and a pancake date planned. After all, we don’t get many days where it’s just you and me. I thought I was ready. I perfectly planned your purple tutu and favorite polka dot bow last night. It was laid out neatly, right next to my list of quick things we needed to grab at the store. It would be a quick stop. After all I was prepared.

We’re shopping away, laughing and giggling as we work as a team to knock things off my perfectly planned list. Toilet Paper-check. Milk-check. Tampons-check. Bathmat-check. Wait. Wait. What size do I need?

And then I feel it coming. It comes like a freight train and I am chained to the tracks, forced to watch the wreckage.

[Tweet “And then I feel it coming. It comes like a freight train and I am chained to the tracks, forced to watch the wreckage.”]

Why didn’t you measure the bathroom Shelby? How could you forget? When will you have time to come back to look for another mat? There’s no time. There’s too much to do. Because Shelby you must always be doing and if you stop doing then something will fall apart. Something always falls apart. Something will go wrong. My God, what if something goes wrong? And people will expect you to have a damn bathmat. Why can’t you do this? Why are you constantly failing? People expect you to have it together.

Now I’m sweating. I feel like I’m being swallowed alive by the shelves of bathmats in all different unfathomable sizes around me. And feel the train run over my chest. I am gasping for air, but my chest feels like it’s been crushed. And I struggle to breathe. I didn’t realize it, but people are looking, waiting to see if I can relax. Because, for fucks sake Shelby, you should be able to relax. Why can’t you relax? Then I try to relax but my heart won’t slow down and I panic all over again because I can’t get the damn bathmats to stop swallowing me alive. Okay think about other things. Oh shit- all those THINGS. Things you need to do. If I don’t do them I will let people down and if I let people down I am failing and Shelby you CANNOT FAIL. I can’t breathe now. I am gasping for breath, sweating and shaking, in the damn bath aisle of Target.

You saw it all. You witnessed mommy break. I promised you princess outfits and pancakes and you got mommy’s panic attack.

Soon, after I regrouped, after the train had backed off my chest and the air was back into the room, I stood up. I took you from the Target employee who had come to help, and held you in my arms. This is my coping skill. In those moments of fear and feeling of doom, I need to know what is real. I need to touch what’s important.

Anxiety is different for everyone. I have learned mine is stress induced. I function just fine and lead a seemingly full, happy life because I know my triggers. Most days, I know I am so much more than my anxiety. I am smart and brave and kind and good. I am not a failure. I am enough. But some days, the doubt and feelings of inadequacy creep in the cracks of my tired, overworked, overstressed self. It gets under my skin and spreads like a rapid virus that may show its ugly head, or may lay dormant until triggered by an outside force.

My outside force is fear of failure. I just don’t want to mess anything up or let anyone down, especially you, my sweet girl. I want you to know your momma is strong and capable and knows what she is doing.

At the end of the day, I just have to remember to be in the moment. Whatever it takes to get me through. In seconds, in minutes, in hours. Just get through. Just get off the floor. Just breathe. Because there will always be things to do and lists to make.

But right now, I owe you pancakes.

Originally posted 2016-07-15 16:52:08.

Stop the Carousel-I Want Off: My story of depression and self-hate

July 9, 2017 by coachshelby 2 Comments

*trigger/emotional warning*

(disclaimer: this post is not meant to put blame for what I went through. It’s meant to share my piece of my story and I own it all. I have an amazing family and wonderful support system.)

I’m going to tell you all something I’ve never told a soul. Why? Because maybe it will help someone. And honestly, I feel strong enough to tell it finally.

I used to hate myself. I hated myself so much I didn’t want to live. So much so my mom had me hospitalized after I refused to eat for 3 days and found me crying on the floor of my bathroom with a kitchen knife after school one day.

Why talk about it now?

Because it’s part of my story. A really dark part. I used to feel ashamed of it. I used to hide it away and try to forget it.

It hurts me looking back knowing now that it wasn’t my fault. Mental illness runs rampant in my family. Not that that is the only reason I was depressed. I wasn’t given the tools I needed to understand or cope with my feelings before it got to this point. I was a ticking time bomb of instability labeled as a “moody teenager who didn’t like being chubby.” I felt completely crazy because “girls with so much opportunity shouldn’t be so angry at the world” but I wasn’t angry at the world. I wasn’t in control of my world. It was spinning and I couldn’t see straight.

[Tweet “I wasn’t angry at the world. I wasn’t in control of my world. It was spinning and I couldn’t see straight.”]

Even after I was hospitalized and sent home 3 days later, it wasn’t spoken of. I felt shame for how I felt. I felt shame for something I couldn’t control.

It took my aunt taking her own life 5 years later for anyone in my family to take mental health seriously.

I no longer feel depressed, yet I am aware of it when it does come. I see a counselor regularly for not only anxiety but just for my own mental health well being. I treat my mental health just like I treat my physical health.

Why am I telling you this?

Because I am not ashamed of it anymore. I have learned that just like your body heals, so does your mind- if you treat it right. Mental illness isn’t something that needs to be hidden in dark corners. It’s present in people you know in your everyday life. People who you look up to. People you wouldn’t imagine. And it’s hard and scary and lonely if you go through it alone.

With PCOS comes an increased occurrence of anxiety and depression. I urge you, if you are struggling-seek help. If you have overcome or are facing mental health issues, share your story. Because it’s not shameful to be going through it. What’s shameful is making people feel like they are less than because of it.

Originally posted 2016-06-12 11:51:11.

Thank you for your concern: A letter to the elusive "helpful" keyboard warrior.

July 9, 2017 by coachshelby Leave a Comment

To the people on the internet who want to “save” me,

I got your messages. I have read your comments. I have received your emails. Thank you for your concern. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your message telling me that you love my page and think that (insert product/diet/lifestyle here) will benefit me. I am assuming you saw PCOS in my name. Maybe you are unique and spent a minute looking at my page and saw I formally was an unhealthy weight. Or maybe you dug deeper like the little overachiever you are and noticed I have struggled with an eating disorder, depression, self hatred and anxiety. And while those things are a big part of me, it is not WHO I am.

I assume you have good intentions. I like to believe the best in people. I am sure you are not just trying to sell me a product. That would just be cruel using my perceived weaknesses as a sales pitch. I know you aren’t searching hashtags looking for vulnerable women to impose your opinions or products on. You must know better. I am positive your days are spent trying to better people by telling them how wrong they are for how they eat or what they wear or how they look.

I want to tell you that I don’t need saving. You may assume because I put myself out there on the internet, that I should be okay with you pushing your opinions on me. I can’t stop you. I have chosen to share my story and with that comes critique and unsolicited comments. I’m okay with that.

But for one second, I want you to think about yourself. I know, this must be hard since you are so selfless with the giving of your opinions. Imagine something you are insecure about. Something that hurts you. Your weak spot. Imagine working on that struggle every day. Imagine the tears and grief and sadness you have felt along with it. Hard right?

Now imagine overcoming it, or at the very least accepting it. Imagine growing into a point of accepting and sharing and loving your story. You are proud and strong and encouraged.

Then someone comes along and tells you you aren’t doing it right. Someone comes along and tells you it’s not enough. You aren’t worthy of feeling good because you aren’t as good as you could be.

It would hurt right? Maybe piss you off?

It is really hard to overcome your insecurities. It is even harder to share them with others and open yourself up to critique. It takes bravery to find your way in this world. I am so glad you found yours. It must be important to you since you feel the need to force your thoughts on strangers on the internet.

I am strong enough to not fall for what people try to sell me anymore- whether it is in the form of product that will “fix me” or words said to make me believe I am unworthy. But so many others are not. Your “concern” may just break them.

In the day of Dr. Google and online forums being replacements for medical and mental health advice, I understand everyone feels they are an expert. It’s easy to feel powerful and all knowing sitting behind a keyboard tapping away your beliefs and thoughts and imposing them on everyone. You may assume you understand me from looking at my page.

But you don’t know everything. Your opinion is just that. An opinion. Feel free to express it, but don’t impose it on others. Post it on your own wall, your blog, your diary, anything you own. But not on me. I am not an open forum because you can see my pictures on the internet.

I’m sure you are thinking, ” Well if you don’t like it why be so public on the internet?”

Touche, my friend. You are so smart. I could very well pack up my 695 pictures, my plethora of stories and tales and lock them away so I don’t open myself up to your opinions. But who would benefit? No one. I share my story to not only help others, but to help myself. I refuse to be stopped because you feel I am doing it wrong. For every one of you doubters or concerned followers, I have 10 that get who I am. They understand that behind the few characteristics you pulled from your skim of my page as weaknesses, are bad ass qualities that make me much more. I am smart. I am a fighter. I am empathetic. I am a believer in supporting and being kind to others. And I am not buying your bullsh*t.

So from the girl you see on my Instagram as someone to save, sell to, or correct- Thank you for your concern. I am so glad you took the time to let me know how much I need fixing. But the one fact you failed to see is that I don’t need saving. I am not broken.

Sincerely,

A fabulously flawed women who fought hard to get where she is and knows that your opinions should be kept to yourself and will refrain from speaking hers about you.

Originally posted 2016-06-11 18:48:10.

The Weight of 8 pounds: My battle with self sabotage and self acceptance

July 9, 2017 by coachshelby 14 Comments

8 pounds. 12472798_10154160245807125_434016845677688167_n

8 pounds was all that stood between myself and the great meltdown of March 2016 (Yes, it was that bad. Read on.)

As I lay on my bathroom floor, curled up in the fetal position, tears running down my face and unable to catch my breath, I thought to myself ,

Are we here again, Shelby? Is this who we are? You hypocrite. Muster up some self love. What would you tell the girls to do? Stop this right now.

But I didn’t stop. In fact, I lay there, right next to the heap of clothes I shed trying to convince that scale she’s a lying jerk, still clutching the phone displaying the progress pictures I took because I was sure they would prove my theory wrong about what the scale had to say. They didn’t. They reflected a person who had gained 8 pounds. I lay there wondering how I got there.

Let’s rewind…

If you’ve been following me for a while, I’m sure you know I have lost weight. About 55 pounds from my highest. But what shiny, nicely laid out, strategically selected transformation pictures won’t show you, is that I have been battling mental weight.

Your health, mental and physical, is not a destination. It is fluid. It changes. It’s not like one day, you weigh X amount of pounds, and you are magically this happy, self confident person who has no problems. But you see, no one ever told me that. So when I reached my goal, and wasn’t happy, I was pissed.

I worked my ass off for this. I’m here. Where’s this so called happiness?

I had hyper focused on losing weight, and only weight, and only fitting in a pair of pants that, sure I knew how to work out and eat right and lose weight- but what else? Now what?

In comes life, like it always does. Kids to be raised. Friends to have wine with. Vacations with carbs around every corner. Working on personal projects and creating a life you want.

But with all that, comes stress. Pressure. Old self sabotaging tendencies. And weight.

8 pounds of weight, to be exact.

And, man, how heavy these 8 pounds are.

If you’ve lost a lot of weight, you know what I am talking about. The feeling of pressure to keep it off. The voice in your head that doubts you and belittles you.

You’ve put yourself out there as an example of someone who can do it. You messed up. You liar. You CAN’T do it.

You can’t be proud of yourself now, Shelby. That stomach roll and double chin is back to remind you how much of a failure you are.

No one will give a shit what you have to say if you can’t even practice what you preach.

As I sat last week, creating a challenge for other women to help them lose weight, as I accepted my certification from NASM, and as I got email after email about how inspiring I am with my weight loss, something in me broke. Snapped. That self sabotaging voice got too loud. It started winning battles with the self assured, confident, strong voice I fight so hard to have. And for the first time in a long time, I felt defeated.

And I know it’s just a number. I know that deep down, if I refocused on myself vs. pouring my everything into others, I could get it off. And I will get it off. But at what expense?

Sure, I have gained 8 pounds. But you know what? I have been happy. Stressed beyond belief, but genuinely happy and fulfilled. Some nights, that fulfillment has been in the form of Little Caesars Crazy Bread, but hey. Have I slacked on my workouts? Absolutely. Have I had 1 or 3 extra glasses of wine I could have skipped for the gym? 100%. And I am not sitting here saying that eating carbs and drinking wine and being happy trumps taking care of your body.

I am saying there has to be a balance. You can’t neglect yourself and your health and get lost in the service and happiness of others. You can’t spend your every waking minute on the treadmill praying for that number to go down. You can’t miss out on life because you’re too busy waiting around for the perfect situation. Perfect size. Perfect number staring back at you from the scale. And you can’t let the voice telling you you aren’t good enough to succeed or don’t deserve to love and embrace yourself, at all stages, drown out the bad ass warrior voice reminding you just how much you can.

Sometimes you wonder where to find your strength and confidence. Sometimes you forget how far you’ve come. Sometimes that old voice wins, and you end up lying in a puddle of tears and leggings on your bathroom floor.

This morning my old voice won.

But then I remind myself of all the things I am proud of. All the things that make me happy that can’t be measured by my pants or my weight.

Am I proud that I gained 8 pounds? No. Of course not.

Am I ashamed of it? Hell no.

I am human. We all are. There’s no super human woman out there that hasn’t slipped up or lost her way or doubted herself.

So as I picked myself up off the bathroom floor and wiped away my tears, I caught my reflection in the mirror. And I bust out laughing.

Was I really just in the fetal position crying into my Lu Lu Roes? Get your sh*t together, Shelby. There are people who need you. And today, that person is you.

**I share this story not because I am proud of getting of track and gaining weight. I share it because I want everyone to know that if it happens to them, they aren’t a failure. The only failure is quitting on yourself. There is no shame in falling down. There is no shame in breaking down. The same is in making others feel like they are any less for doing so. **

Here’s the progress pictures that broke open the flood gates. I wasn’t going to post them because I could name 2089 things that I don’t like about it. So that proved right there, I needed to do it. For me.

To forgive myself for my past. To accept myself as I am right now. And to focus on the future.

Originally posted 2016-03-28 15:42:24.