Category Archives: Depression

A Vague “I’m Better”

IMG_0222(Photo: Leaving notes to myself everywhere. Like the normal me leaving messages to myself when feeling down)

I told myself I wouldn’t blog until I felt better…

Then I started to feel better, but I just didnt want to share anything. But now I can honestly say that I have had one solid week of happiness. So now I can talk… 20 days since my last post, geez.

IMG_0188(Above photo taken 20 days ago, I think my face kinda just plays on how I felt)

Think near the absolute worst, take 2 steps back, and thats where I was. Now I knew I was having bad days, but they were adding up (fast), and then I realized something was VERY wrong. Heavens, I was falling apart all over the place. Had Mark stressed out, randomly calling friends and losing my shit, or just not talking to anyone at all. Could barely help the kids with school, because I could barely help myself.

Untitled(Photo: Tinkering with vintage bicycles. Mr.Holmes in MS has everyone ramped up for a vintage bike show in May. Have really been enjoying researching and ripping my fingers apart as I learn a little bit more on the anatomy of a bicycle)

I remember starting an email to Mark (DID NOT send it), begging for help. I just needed a little help. I could sit there thinking “Help, help me.” <— This is when I knew it had gone too far, because the sane me inside of me put her drink down and said “WHOA WHOA WHOA! What the shit is happening?! Call the doctor now”.

I called mid freakout, and ripped someone a new a-hole because they wanted me to wait to be seen in 2 weeks. I feel bad about it, but I knew something had to be done. Next thing I know I am talking to the nurse and I have an appointment the next day to see the doctor.

Untitled(photo: Hats piling up. The best feeling is getting down to packaging up caps to be shipped out. I write a note to everyone (usually after I stalk you on Facebook to see how you have been). EVERY cap is personal. I get to think about you for 5-6 hours as I knit you a cap, in my mind we are the best of buds)

Between the doctor, my Mom, Mark’s Mom, the consensus was new meds and to put DOWN my knitting and workout. Other actions were taken, which don’t really feel like talking about, but things completely changed around here.

Biggest thing was making my workouts a priority. Yeah, I don’t know want more to say other than I just started putting my training in front of all the other random crap that I get into. Made sure to take my meds, and yeah. Thats what I did.

Untitled(photo: Enjoying moments with the fam bam and friends. Thank you Tori for coming and re-setting me)

I didnt want to blog about it. I didnt want to talk. I had nothing to talk about. I actually would think “egh, maybe I could blog” then would ask myself “Are your workouts done?” <– Usually not, so spent my writing/hiding time getting in workouts.

So the past 20 days have been focused on getting better and feeling better. Feeling somewhat normal. This post sounds extremely vague, because it was bad and I really don’t know what more to say. I almost don’t want to dwell on it because I feel accomplished at the moment.

Untitled(photo: I don’t know why, but have expanding my skills into color work. I’m Mc’Lovin it.)

If you haven’t heard from me, I am sorry. I only write now just to give a heads up. Also to let you know I am better.

Huge thanks to Nena (Marks Mom), My Mom, Tori, Bonnie, Lisa, Eddie and Joe. You all in big or little way have helped me feel better. Thank you 🙂

P.S Oh, and I have been sleeping A LOT, like going to bed at 8 pm <— AMAZING what sleep can do.


A Bed of Honesty & Anxiety Attack SR

UntitledYou know, there are times that I like rolling around on this bed of honesty (this blog) <– Bed of honesty, I totally just made that up . Seriously though, this (bed of honesty/blog) right here is my journal.

“Hello Journal”

Thursday I had a bad day. More like a DARK day.  It was over for me. Not in a suicidal way, but I really thought I had maxed out. I suck at everything. I don’t do enough for my kids. Why is there so much shit that needs to be done? I am failing at life, my family, and whoever it is who I want to be when I grow up (yeah, Im flipping Peter Pan, and have NOT grown up yet. Remember, Christina doesn’t get old).

Ahhh…. Ahhh…. Now as I calmly look back, there really wasn’t much to freak out about. Its the accumulation of things that all of a sudden smack you in the face on a bad day that can send you down a deep deep deep hole.

There was the semi-sane person in my head that tried to keep me calm, “Calm down Chris, your going to give yourself a heart attack. Lets avoid a panic/anxiety attack” <– Thing is, I was already having one. Not an intense fall on the floor, while grabbing your throat and crying to your mom on the phone panic attack… But a nice prolonged one. Anxiety Attack SR (slow release).

Scary part is that you don’t outwardly see all this. It stays bottled up inside. I still go through the routine of life, taking care of kids, running errands, but inside I am clenching my teeth and holding on for dear life. I did have tears that fell down while driving.

Tears of hope lost and disappointment in myself for not being able to pull through. “You’re stronger, this will be over…. No, you’re done. Just fall over and admit to the world you cant do these things… All you need to do is workout, get back into a routine… Why are still even trying to do triathlons? Do you have something to prove? No one cares. You don’t care…” <—– Do you see this scary/crazy?

Once tears come, well that normally triggers a full on anxiety attack. Recently Lisa did a post on having an anxiety attack. To me, the key thing in the post is having the fear of dying. Now of course we don’t die and don’t want to die, but your body takes you to a place where hope is gone and you think its the end. Along with the mental bat shit crazy thoughts that go through your head, I want to take you to what it feels like…

Imagine yourself laying down. Now I am going to place about 200 lbs of cement on your chest, you feel that pressure? That right there is the first part, you all of a sudden let your stresses gain weight and they start taking your breath away. As you lay there having a hard time breathing, imagine someone coming up to you and choking you. Yep, maybe think of an evil twin looking you straight into the eyes and choking you, with eyes that don’t give a shit and want you to give up. There is no calling out for help (you cant breathe), oh and don’t think of using your arms to help lift the pressure off your chest (you’re way to depressed to even move). Add more pressure, and the strangling gets tighter, you’re running out of air, the world hates you, oh and you are going to die. Ever have those dreams of dying? Or you are about to die? Like you car flys off a cliff, or a zombie is going to eat your brain out, and in that dream you have that one split second of thinking “shit I am going to die”. That is how you feel, but you aren’t in a damn dream, its REAL LIFE.

Gosh it makes me sick to admit all that. *Shrug* Its life though. We/I bounce back. Some people unfortunately don’t.

Yesterday there was a post floating around my Facebook feed ’11 Habits of People with Concealed Depression’. Its a good post. To me though, only people with depression will…
1.Read it
2. Share It <— We share it for OTHERS who don’t experience these problems to be AWARE of the problems. But those people will probably scan right over it. But then there are the people who are dealing with depression that read it and think “Phew, at least EVERYONE else like me feels this way. I am not alone.” <— That right there is why I talk about my batshit crazy mind (I hate the word ‘depression’, may I use batshit crazy? Egh, that sounds too crazy. Ill just stick to MY crazy”).

Along with the post, there was a comment about feeling narcissistic when talking about your own personal depression (don’t take it serious or personal, it just made me think of things). The comment left me questioning myself “Am I narcissistic?” <— Hell no. The only thing that applies to me that is part of the definition of narcissistic is being SELF ABSORBED. Yep, I am. Self absorbed with my mental health, because in the end it will project into my family. I share because… well… writing is my form of therapy. Also my very first post EVER on depression gave a lot of feedback, and not feedback of “Im here for you” (there was that) but MOSTLY emails/texts/messages that whispered “me too”.

Since my first post I have been open in sharing. Someone has to be. SOMEONE has to be. In the end I really don’t care what the MAJORITY thinks, my own mind hurts me enough, so I can take a couple of hits off my own personal armor from the people who want to be mean or nasty.

I get so lost on purpose of posts… I just wanted to talk…

Shit happens. You’re not alone. You WILL bounce back. You WILL accomplish great things.

Oh, and note: Ill be the first to admit, I STRONGLY DISLIKE blogs about depression. I won’t read them. NOPE. I’ve tried, and have come out feeling MORE depressed. So totally understand those that done like to read about it… But sometimes once you read through someones bad day, and you see that THEY came through, well that gives you a bit of hope 🙂

My 16 Year Old Self and A-Holes

Untitled**Yeah, I don’t know why I took it, but glad I did because there are NO other photos for this post. I have no photos of my 16 year self and assholes**

I cried while running today…

Well there were tears randomly throughout, and then around mile 4, 15 seconds of sobbing.

I’m crazy. <— Thats just how I feel. The past couple of days Ive had my earplugs in again (muffling the world me). All I am worrying about is not having got in my workouts to the fullest, or keeping up with the kids, or… or…

Total zombie mode. I knew it was bad this morning. While taking the kids to school, I knew I would need to make a phone call to someone to get me calm. I need to TALK to someone other than kids. But once I started talking I knew I would break down. Surprisingly one of the people on my go-to call list needed to Skype with me (Thanks Coach Jeff, and nice seeing you, Rick!). We went over a new training platform, and talked about the upcoming months, and slightly about my sanity.

Once the Skype call was over I felt, OK. Not great, just ok. Received an email from Mark, which was nice, it had attached to it a little “honey-do list”. First thing was dropping off paper work to our housing office because we got a home on base (yay! Kinda a big deal!). This means breaking a lease, but Florida state law dictates that if you are eligible or opt in to move into government housing, the lease can be broken.

So after being sent to the managers office, sat down and explained that I would be be putting in a 30 days notice, and handed over appropriate paperwork, the manager jumped up, hurried to his file cabinet and said “According to OUR leasing agreement, you CANT do that”.

Lets stop here, remember I am just kinda in the dumps, I really don’t know what is wrong with me, I am sad, I have a list (like 2 people) of people waiting to be called because I am about to have a full blown panic attack…. Then this guy says that I CANT do something. Well I flipped the switch to my humanity (total Vampire Diaries line, get with the program), and nearly lost my shit.

Don’t worry I kept calm, but I was boiling inside. I had kindly brought in my paperwork, and even a copy of the STATE law, I thought it could have been a smooth process. Then this guy wants to tell me I signed a contract saying that I could not do something. Why do you want to fight?

Apparently they might have updated their leasing agreement stating these terms, but MY agreement says other wise. He even dug up a copy of my lease and said these things (like I would NOT be getting out of my agreement):
1.” He HAS to be active duty” <—- “He IS active duty”.
2. ” Well then he has to be deployed with a military unit for 90 days or more” <—- “He IS leaving me for 9 MONTHS.”
3. “You have to be eligible or opt in to an military agreement if housing was issued” <—-“THIS is what THIS paper states

He still made it seem like it wasn’t going to happen and that my paperwork was insufficient. I said I would call the military housing , and bring in “proper” paperwork. Thank you.

By the time I got home, I walked in, I starting tearing up. I felt as though I was pushed into a corner, that someone was going to snag our happy dream of getting a home on base away because this guy didn’t want to abide by the law. Confused I made the proper phone calls, was told the paper work I was given WAS the paperwork needed, and that those people were probably pushing me around. <—- I was being pushed around.

After the phone calls, I was so overwhelmed. Not sure what to do, and I just cant call Mark up and ask him what we should do next. So I thought, I’ll call Lisa, but I was scared I would start sobbing, not make any sense, and then the phone call would be useless (normally I would Facebook message, but I needed to TALK), so then with tears in my eyes, I pulled up my moms phone number and called her.

You know, I kinda try and sound tough “Hey whats up!” “Ah nothing here I–” <– cut short by me saying “You won’t believe this asshole over here telling me I CANT DO SOMETHING” (all tough). Then crying “MOM! I am losing my shit here, I am going crazy I am so sad, that guy was the last string, I am having a panic attack (at this point my throat started to tighten up, so I was REALLY having an attack), AHH MY THROAT! AHHH **insert choking/crying sounds** AH! MOM! AH!” <—As I sit here, I am laughing my ass off because I have to picture my self here, in my running clothes, visor on, big cry baby face, 29 years old, crying to my mom, then grabbing my throat as if someone is choking me, all the while I still have the phone against my ear, LOL, ah, its funny NOW… Thought I was gonna die 2 hours ago.

In the end my mom calmed me down, agreed the guy was an asshole (sometimes you need someone just to agree that “yes, that person is an asshole”), and that in the end you cant break STATE law and everything would be fine.

Then she said, “Do you need to run?” <— I had actually been getting ready to run, I already knew that I NEEDED to. Not because its on my schedule (because it isn’t) but because its while running that I find myself. Its running that brings Christina back to center, tells her toughen up, and things will be fine.

Its not the first time that with tears in my eyes, or to battle tears coming on that I turned to running to help me…

You know everyone shares their “Why I started running” stories or “What made me decide to do a triathlon”, and … They all sound the same to me. They all sound happy. They did it for someone else. They battled cancer. They lost weight. I ran because I needed to hide from things at home…

Normally I tell people I started running when I met Mark, so we both had something to do together, but truthfully I started running when I was 16. I lived in a state of anxiety and fear when I was younger. I was confused, I was scared. “Normal” wasn’t a word used to describe how I grew up. The biggest drive for my mom, was for me to play softball, but I hated it. I used it as an excuse though to NOT be home. To be doing something, to get the endorphins going so I was in SOME state of happy, though I hated it all the same. So I would say I was going “running” to be let out of the house, and I did go run, but not for the workout to keep me in shape for softball, but so I could be out of the house, then run HARD and feel the burn and hope it take the sad away. I didn’t look at running as RUNNING, it was an escape, this is what my mind and body wanted to do, I wanted to run away.

I always ran the same route, and I would always cry. I actually had designated cry zones, I knew the tears would come, but I cant be flying down Foothill Blvd (big street) with tears in my eyes. I would have hot tears while running by my middle school. It’s here in the cry zone that I would imagine my future self running with me, she would come because I needed reassurance that things WOULD be better, that I would be happy one day, I imagined my future self because she is the only person I trusted. Deep down I knew I would grow up one day and be out of this mess, so I needed to imagine I would be happy one day. Hell I imagined her telling me jokes, she was so strong and laugh things off, most important she promised me things would be o.k. . By the time I got up to Foothill I’d wipe the tears away then run as hard as I could to my first street where I would run up to Hillcrest.

I chose my route based on memories that made me happy, and by peoples houses that were “normal” and had let me in and let me experience what a normal family was like. It was up in the foothills that I ran away from my problems, and was just happy running up a damn hill. I also chose these streets because I felt safe knowing that the next block held someone I knew so if something was wrong, I had a house to run to.

First street was the street of the boy who was my first kiss, I would always run by his house so embarrassed, and just think how funny the whole situation was. Once I got to the top of the hill I would make a right, this street was always cooler, I don’t know if it was because I wasn’t running up hill anymore, or that it had a breeze, but it was the favorite part of my run. Beautiful “homey” houses, and I would name everyone I knew that lived either down or up the intersecting streets.

My half way point was was a big white house that lived a family that forever will be in my heart for so many reasons. It was always a warm and inviting place, so it was a happy mid-way point, “my half-way happy”. I continue on to Ivy (name of street), its here I would stop and stand in the middle of the street and look down into the  valley. It was so beautiful right there. No matter how unhappy I had been, by this time, I had no clue why I started running, and would just stare at the lights below. I walked down the most part of Ivy, it was a little steep and just killed my knees, plus I was always scared I would trip and break my ankle, then my mom would kill me. Also I loved the houses. I loved looking into the homes of “normal” people with “nice” things, people that seemed “happy”. Every other run I would choose a different house I would live in….

Coming back down into where I lived I slowly brought myself to reality. Back to the real world where the endorphins were rushing through me leaving me feel strong, and mentally ready to tackle whatever was to come. I always sprinted the last block home. It was thrilling, even now I remember the feeling, the smell, the sweat on my forehead, my ponytail …

Thats how it started, my happy place. Coach Jeff would always say, “You hate running”, no not true. Running is so much more to me than a sport, its my life, its my peace.

So yes, mom. I did need a run, and I happily ran my heart out on my treadmill. WAAAY harder than I should have but I needed it, who gives a shit about heart rate, I ran to where I needed to feel a little burn, its that burn that makes things better. It “burns” out the crazy.

Ya know, people always comment or ask : “how can you run on a treadmill?“.  I normally say something like its good mental training and allergies get to me (which they do), but in reality I dont run on a treadmill, I run the streets I grew up on with a 16 year girl who didn’t know who she was. I tell her jokes, give her strenghth, and reassure her that things will be better. ” Chris, you will be stronger, you will be loved, I promise God has so much in store for you, but let’s run faster because I love this hill…”


IMG_0579Drugs. Boom. Yep. I take em.

I dont abuse drugs, but am prescribed some. With being open about my crazy, I recently shared that I was off my meds for a bit. A friend used the word “vulnerable” to describe me sharing that. At the time reading that comment I popped a piece of popcorn in my mouth shrugged my shoulders, looked side-to-side and thought “vulnerable” to who? <— ‘I’ll do what I want, you don’t know me”

I knew what she meant though. There are 2 sides (and a fuzzy middle) on how people look at drugs for depression. There are the extreme people that think you should naturally ride it out, DONT poison your body, or think you are crazy for taken meds, or they look at your different for HAVING to take meds. Then there is the other extreme of people that say “Yeah, I am effin’ nuts, drug me up“. Oh, and let me throw in the people that have been told/recommended drugs, but don’t, but desperately do them, but they are so crazy that they won’t take them because they think they’re fine (those people are fun, eek).

Um, lets say I am somewhere in between. I go through cycles on knowing that I should, but I think “Hell! I feel great, I am eating clean, in incredible shape, I love my life, I CONTROL my life, not some stupid little pill!” <— Yeah, stupid cocky me is pushing it out that the glue which holds the amazing together IS that little pill. So I fall off the wagon, refuse to call in a refill, which then leads me into insane withdrawals that leaving me feeling like I am going to die. Eventually you break through, feel fine for a day, and then with a smack in the face realize why you WERE on that pill. Anxiety attacks, and a roller coaster of ups and downs. Not having Mark home, and feeling like that? It sucks. WTF was I thinking. Then it takes forever and a day to get back to normal.

You shouldn’t have to HIDE that you need a small pill. But we do. Its embarrassing. Its a form of weakness. You get judged. My favorite is getting judged by the people that don’t understand what exactly they are judging you for. *Sigh*

Now be who you want to be. Back to the first paragraph you may be far right, far left, fuzzy in-between, and or plain crazy. It’s ok. Free choice people. I am happy for you. WHATEVER WORKS FOR YOU.

Remember though, its doesn’t mean that you ARENT strong enough. A lot of us are tough, and want to break through on our on. I get that, if so let someone help, or talk about it. Don’t let it bring you down. <— I say all that, but I, myself wouldn’t say anything to anybody until I am completely falling apart. 

So yeah. If you have a problem with me having to take a small pill to keep me level…
Well I don’t give two craps what you think, and please don’t let the poison of nastiness running through you drive YOU crazy.

**Multivitamins, crazy pill and allergies pills in above photo**

Seeing the world through earplugs…

UntitledI’m just not in a happy place.

What can I do for you? Honestly, nothing. You could offer me the world, and it just doesn’t interest me. *twirl hair*

The kids fight back with everything I say. A simple “Please go to your room”, is followed up with SOMETHING. Please? Why not the first time? But right now I don’t care. Stomp all over me. I just don’t give a shit. Just want peace.

My face is numb, and I feel as though I have earplugs in, and I am SEEING the world through earplugs. Does that make sense?*twirl hair*

I am desperate for an email (from Mark). This isn’t a real deployment and it makes me sick. How am I gonna do 9 months? (Right now the strong Christina is screaming up at myself “YOU love being by yourself! Shut up! You say this now, but once you let me out you will be fine!”). I’d still like an email. I’d be happy with one word.


I wanted to cry watching the cartoon Pound Puppies this morning, I should have known THEN that something was going on.*twirl hair*

Do you need to eat? Nah, food has no taste right now. I get up to go to the bathroom and nearly faint washing my hands. Maybe I should eat.

This food sucks. Kids demand more food though they have ate, and I haven’t yet. May I eat first? When will your gratitude and or understand that you are being a little shit kick in? (Seriously people at what age, and don’t tell me it gets worse as they grow older).

Damnit I need the treadmill. I’ll never get these runs in. They (the kids) just don’t want me to run. I’m a failure at this. Can I jenga it in? No. Just do it tomorrow. *twirl hair* *twirl hair*

Untitled“Mama, are you ok? I love you”… I know baby, mama just needs to sit down, here cuddle with me. Cuddles for a moment then leaves to body slam brother, crying is involved, they aren’t running to me, they will be fine, someones laughing, they’re fine.

I should be doing something right now, I cant remember. *twirl hair*

Damn she needs help. No I just need a damn moment.

Sometimes life catches up. When you are physically & mentally exhausted from the constant grind. I feel as though my mind is going a million miles a minute. At all times my priority is the kids. Especially with Mark gone. This is a one man show. A one man show running all this. Keeping kids happy, morale up for a husband on a ship, and to keep myself level.

Can you help? No. Wait, yes. Realize that this isn’t always me, but sometimes it is. At moments like this, I need to ride it out. I’ll be back.

To those that understand ALL THAT that just happened up there, thank you.

Her reply? “Christina’s back”.


Hi. My name is Christina.

 Why I feel as though I need to start with that, well I have no clue.

But hi!

For the past week I have actually been on the edge of writing (typing, blogging, sharing, releasing, informing, sighing). I’ve been hesitant. Scared? Nervous? Not sure what to say?

There is plenty to say though, but have been keeping things tapped down. So I feel as though I am making popcorn, and the popcorn is flowing over. I can’t control the crazy inside. I have to share. I’ve always shared.


ALWAYS shared. Though it may take awhile, I always come around from wherever I have been. You actually can read through 7 YEARS of my life here on my blog. Though I have had a couple different blog names, its always been the same person, I have just evolved, grown older, gone crazy, loved differently, experienced the world, changed writing styles…. If you want you can dig back, WAY back, I’ve always been here.

I’ve had someone recently say to me, “With everything going on, I didn’t think to stop and ask how YOU were doing.”

Not until I processed the question, did I really stop and think “Christina, how ARE you doing? Truthfully… Don’t lie to yourself, cause you kinda can’t”.


I don’t know how I am doing half the time. I am getting through day by day. Focusing on the positive, getting in a groove for training for Ironman Arizona, enjoying my family, worrying about Mark, making sure we all don’t get skin cancer, soaking up the amazing of JAX beach, taking in my sister (she leaves back home on Monday), laughing, loving, and being happy.

Unpacking like a crazy person for over a week. Kids have somewhat patiently dealt with a packing paper obsessed mom. I think we might have erased the boring time with some fun at Lego Land. Kids are having a blast! Happy kids make an estatic mama :) @runn

Being happy should  be easy. But then I get this creep of everything else inside me, my feelings, and then it starts slowing eating away at my happy till I smack it away. That being said I really don’t know what has been happening on Facebook, or the blog world. I’ve been happy, and when confronted with the “social” world I decide that the moment that I am in with my family is more important. I don’t need to spiral downward with confusion & hurt.

To the beach!!! @vickic321

There is only so much we can do with life. Though I am fixer and conformist, I am over it. Things mentally changed for me while in Boulder this summer. I broke down. Heart broke in so many ways. I shut down completely. People didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to have to explain. At the same time that I am shutting down, I am so mentally fudged up that I stopped eating going into Ironman Coeur d’Alene. For those of you who know, me not eat? Yeah, it doesn’t happen. But I don’t know what happened, I was in such a dark place. To everyone who followed along, things looked fun and great. They were fun & great, but I was crying inside, and so mentally tired of making those around me happy & conforming to the worlds needs… well I lost my shit. All inside.

I'm here:) smiling :) #jaxbeach #beachlife

I came out of Ironman Coeur d’Alene different. Hell I have yet to enjoy the grandness of my accomplishment because it just was numbed to the whirlwind inside my head. I remember about a week off the race, I acknowledged to myself that  “I am different, NOW”.

The only thing unpacked from the car are Vicki, the kids, my phone and myself. Just ate 4 slices of pizza, starting to feel somewhat normal.... I'll try and be alive by this afternoon #roadtriphangover #triouradventure

Going into IMCDA I was hungry, but couldn’t eat. We all know I need to eat. So I thought I would fail. That my body would break down. My biggest foe in my physical world (my stomach and the havoc it causes) was playing a mental mind f*ck with me. People were losing their shit around me, I was sobbing inside, body was in the negative. But once my feet hit the waters of Lake CdA, ALL THE OTHER SHIT THAT NORMALLY OWNS ME, well it DIDNT MEAN A DAMN thing. It had no control over my day. I wouldn’t let it. In the end I was mentally stronger. I had waited so long to be there.

It's been 3 weeks!!! My loves!!!

Last year my strength Coach messaged me before Rev3 Cedar Point, and said “You’ve earn the right to toe that line”. But not until a year later, sealing on my goggles for my first IRONMAN, and watching people in front of me dive in like penguins did I say “yes, right now, TODAY, right here, I DESERVE to be here. F**k them all cause this is about to be AWESOME”.

I enjoyed every damn minute of that race. Even when I was nearly passing out in the end. I loved it all …

Wait, thats a lie, WALKING SUCKS ASS. But I was HAPPY the entire race. Nothing that had happened the weeks leading in bothered me. Heck! I didn’t even remember that I even had a  life other than what was happening THAT day. So once I was home, and I realized that I can do an IRONMAN with my little world collapsing in on me, well hell…. I am STRONG. I can do ANYTHING. YOU do not define me. I will NOT conform.

So yeah, shit has been different since IMCDA. Hate me, love me, don’t give a shit, I really don’t care. All I know is I am living my life. A positive life. A life with my family. The normal crazy training for an Ironman life and I am loving every minute of it.

Again, HI. This is me. This is what happened. “Its not YOU, its ME”

P.S I just read Vicki my blog post, and asked what she thought. Her reply? “Christina’s back”. 

Your right Vic, I think I am.