Whenever my friends have a new venture, I know about it. I want to know about it. I mean, if I don’t know what my friends’ dreams are, then what kind of friendship do we have?

I’m the kind of person who asks those questions. You know the ones. The ones where you kind of have to think about it. You don’t answer right away, you twist in your chair, and you give me that look like “What the hell, Katie. WHY DO YOU ASK THESE THINGS?” And I say in a very serious tone, and probably with a full mouth of pancakes, “Because I want to know.”

And I do.

Then, if one of my friends’ dreams has to do with freelancing, writing, social media, marketing, or general advice-ery, then I’m invited to hop on board. And I always say yes. Usually. The number of biz ventures I’ve embarked on is incredible. Okay, it’s like 5, but how many people can say they helped 5 ideas be born? Unless you’re a mom or dad of 5, in which case I suppose this applies.

Anyhow.

As much as I love making other’s dreams come true, my dreams have taken a bit of a backseat. This can be partly attributed to the fact that I have no idea what I want to do with life on a professional level at this point. Do I school? Do I not school? Do I push my business further? Do I terminate it? I just don’t know. So my answer to avoiding the topic is to helping eveyone else with their dreams.

So far, I haven’t been major-enough of a role in their dream to be necessary. I don’t mean that as a negative thing- I just mean that getting involved with their biz plan hasn’t rendered me unable to work elsewhere. It doesn’t take up all of my time, I’m not a permanent fixture in their business. I’m free to explore my passions. I just haven’t been.

I know the steps I need to take in order to figure out what I want to do. I have to figure out what I’m passionate about, what I love to do, what I “waste” time on. I’m afraid of committing to anything like that. I did it with freelancing, and then the desire faded. I did it with writing, and the desire is fading. I’m still passionate about psychology, but I’m afraid if I commit to it, I’ll start to get tired of it and hate it. Or, maybe it IS my true calling and I won’t get tired of it.

Do I want to take the risk? Study the subject and then hate it? Or do I keep on taking Free Yale Online Psychology courses that amount to nothing, but give me tons of pleasure? And if I do end up hating the thing I’ve always loved, where the heck do I go from there?

So, right now, I know what I’m passionate about, but I don’t know if losing the passion is something I want to risk.

Clearly commitment issues should be brought up in my next therapy session.

Dude. I was being all sorts of self-centered and checking out my posts as of late and WTF. Granted, I love sharing my insanity with you guys, but I forget that there’s some awesome shit going on too. Sorry, yo! I be pessimistic sometimes.

Regardless of the fact that it’s Monday and I wanted to lay in bed and continue dreaming about Anthony Hopkins and my delicate lover-ship, I didn’t. I got up, got showered and applied makeup.

…..

I know, right? I actually went out of the house as to I was sure I wouldn’t be mistaken for Britney Spears the Psycho years.

In other news, it’s the end of the month and the beginning of a very hectic week over here in Katie-land. I have a huge project that I have to wrap up this week that will require me to pull a few all-nighters. Anyone who wants to bring me coffee and crack-cocaine, I’d totally be your BFFL! So long as you promise that you’re not a psycho killer of any sort, I’ll totally give you my address and tell you where I keep my spare key.

I prefer Raspberry White Mocha Coffee but will take anything with tons of sugar and caffeine in it.

This weekend, I’m doing the MS Walk that I’m making a run because I’m proactive like that but doubt I’ll actually run the whole thing because my Boston Wife is so far away and cannot sling mean comments at me for not running. Whew. My cousin, Deana passed away from complications caused by MS a few years ago, so we keep her spirit alive by forming a big ole team and doing the walk each year.

Feel free to throw your dolla dolla billz at me y’all. AKA Make a donation.

I’m still audio-booking Sookie Stackhouse. I’m completely addicted to the narrator, Johanna Parker and it’s my new goal to listen to every single book she’s ever read. So, I’m on book 4, and I’ve gotten here in about a month. It’s amazing the shit I can accomplish when I want to. Since I adore this woman so much, I’m curious as to whether listening to Sookie and her Vampire Adventures will be a good running assistant.

People have been talking about running without music. I just…no. I can’t. I know I can’t. Or, at least I don’t want to. When I’m hitting the pavement, my mind is telling me all of the other things I want to be doing. Like sleeping, watching Showtime, eating cheese, etc. I don’t know if I can shut my mind off long enough to keep going. I mean, I probably could, but I seriously don’t want to. Running is so much better with Michael Bolton singing to me.

I’m going to test it out this week, and possibly go for using Sookie to make my MS Walk/Run more tolerable.

So, that’s that. I didn’t want to keep visiting my blog obsessively and seeing something uber emotional as the most recent post. Sure it’s a part of what I’m going through right now — feeling all the feelings that I’ve repressed for a million years. But I’m loving a shit ton of things like greek yogurt, turkey burgers, pancakes, green tea, Sookie, and nailpolish. I mean, duh.

I spent about 60 minutes today looking at mugshots.

I felt sick to my stomach as a viewed 10 mugshots of some guy I dated back when I was 18 and into my 20′s. I felt that burning feeling in my throat that is an indication that I’m about to get a smidge emotional. I have no feelings left for this man. I don’t miss him. I don’t want him back.

And yet, I almost blew chunks all over my computer when I saw them.

For a long time, I let others’ opinions of me dictate how I felt about myself.  Back in the days of my early 20′s, this jailbird walked all over me. He cheated on me. He stole my car. He stole money from my dad and me. I wasn’t deserving of his love all the time, so I felt I was undeserving of anyone’s love, especially my own. I wasn’t good enough to be his one and only, so I just put another tally in the “People I’m not good enough for” column. He joined ranks with family members, friends, and myself.

My relationship with him was a large part of my War Story. Also known as my excuse of why I’m not where I want to be in life. After tons of time and money in therapy, I separated myself from that little girl and young woman. The little girl who felt ignored by her friends. The young woman who was taken advantage of and put on so many people’s back burners that she got used to putting others before herself. Those girls went through some really hard times all alone.

I now realize that I’m not where I want to be because I lack motivation, which I’m trying to build. Not because I had a rough bout with my teenage years. I don’t blame other people anymore. At least not for where I am. I’m where I am because of myself. I’m actually pretty okay with where I am, so to give anyone else credit other than myself is doing ill justice to me.

That whole “Thank the people who did you wrong because they helped you get where you are.” Bullshit. Thank myself for being a fighter and determined to overcome things. Thanks are reserved for people who deserve them.

When I looked at those photos today, that sickness and impending tears was anger. I felt angry for those parts of me that I put to rest nearly a year ago. I looked hard into his face, into his eyes, and wanted to kick him in the kidney. It was as if he did what he did to my own (non-existent)mdaughter. Had he done that, he’d have no penis.

I could have made excuses – tried to contact him. It would take one phone call to get in touch with him, or a relative. I could arrange for a meeting where I’d tell him he’s a jerk for hurting those girls the way he did. Had I done that, he’d have gotten more energy than I care to spend on him at this time in my life.

Instead, I told him, out loud, to his (mugshot) face, that he no longer has that control over me. I’ve known this for a while, but I never told him that. This is about as close as I’ll come to ever seeing him again if I can help it.

I walked away from this little experience feeling great. It’s these moments when I realize I love myself in spite of my weaknesses that I really am impressed with how far I’ve come. I love that little girl and young woman that I’ve put to rest, and it’s not okay that they were treated how they were.

I used this as an opportunity to stick up for those girls, in a way that I wish I would have been stood up for, but wasn’t. It feels good to give them love from this side of life.

I’m choosing to love myself, the past, present, and future versions and it’s amazing.

Clearly, sanity is included in the things that this quote covers.

This past week was a big fat mess of…mess. I got a call on Wednesday (I think.) letting me know that my grandmother was rushed to the hospital because she was in so much pain. She’s rockin’ her 80′s, so of course she has some constant pain, but the pain went off the charts last week, landing her a front row seat in one of Jersey’s “greatest” hospitals.

On Thursday, I made the trip up to see Grandmom along with my mom. After spending 8 hours in the hospital room ( I spent the majority of the time sitting by the window and listening to Living Dead in Dallas), we headed home. I decided to stay at my moms overnight since she was on vacation, and I’d head to work from her house the next day.

The next morning, bright and early, we had to call 9-1-1 for my mom, who had gotten violently ill overnight. Same hospital, another 8 hours spent amogst the sick people.

At one point, I found myself walking 1/4 mile from the Emergency Room beds to the 4th floor to visit my Grandmother. It sure was convenient, if nothing else. 4 days, and 100+ miles of driving, walking, combined, I was spent.

Sunday morning rolled around and I had a massive allergy attack.

DOES IT EVER EFFING END?

During these stressed filled times that sometimes come around, I would just reach into my little brown bottle and pull out a pretty peach pill (or 3). I’d wait 45 minutes and I’d feel instantly better. The problems were still there, but I didn’t care. I also had the steady stream of Welbutrin running through my body, so that helped too.

This weekend warranted Xanax. I had an entire bottle with me.

I took zero of them.

I won’t say that since the big announcement that I made a few weeks back that I was going off of my medications that I didn’t grab a pretty peach pill once or twice. I was withdrawaling, yo! But those instances have been fewer and farther between.

Coming off of the medications has been hard. It’s been a little over a month since I’ve taken Welbutrin in any amount and I still get the rage-like feelings, sometimes. They usually come when I don’t know what to do, or feel like I should be doing something other than what I’m doing. I’ll get very angry when I’m watching the Voice because I feel like I should be doing something else. And sometimes I should. But there are times where I have to give myself permission to lay around in my PJs and enjoy some TV, or most recently the Sookie Stackhouse Books.

I’ve learned that I require structure. I need to have a to-do-list, and a have-done-list. Otherwise, I’ll forget things. I need to take Sundays and plan my week out, down to the day I’ll do laundry.

I’ve learned that in the morning, I need to set little goals for myself. Sometimes it’s as simple as “Go to the bathroom and get a shower”, because there are days when I need to start of small.

I’ve learned that there’s a small chance I might need to be on a chemical supplement because of my chemical imbalance. Depression isn’t a condition for crazy people, world. It’s for normal people who have an abnormal level of brain-juice. Like diabetics and insulin.

I’ve learned there are natural supplements to help me sleep, so I don’t need a Xanax. Melatonin is my hero.

I’ve learned that there will be cravings for taking an anti-anxiety pill to make things better. I’ve also learned that if I give myself a 2 hour window, the urge will pass.

I’ve learned that I’m not much happier without my medication, in fact, I’m a bit more on edge, and gloomy at times but this is something I want to do for me.

I’ve promised myself that if I feel like I absolutely have to go back onto a medication, I will.  I know the signs, I know when things get absolutely uncontrollable, I should seek medical attention, I will.

If I do go back onto a anti-anxiety medication, I won’t be hard on myself.

…and that’s how it’s gonna be.

Spring has no sooner spring, and I already have my plate filled with addictions. Any more addictions and I may have to quit my job in the name of some of these things. Some people look at addictions as bad, which I agree with when it’s smoking, running around naked in public locations, and cooking crack cocaine. I think it’s better to do crack cocaine raw. It’s more organic.

I joke.

Seriously, though, my addictions might not be the healthiest, but they’re things that I love. For quite some time, I’ve had a hard time figuring out what it is in life that makes me authentically happy. Now that I have things that I can look forward to, my life has been completely changed. Even if it’s on a small scale. Going from noting to making you happy to having a list long of things is kinda kick-ass.

Without further ado:

1. Essie Nail Polish

The colors of this polish are what drew me in initially, but now that I’ve been using it for a while and have a pretty impressive collection, if I do say so myself,  I really love the staying power of the polish. You can a great shine from not even using a top coat, but I do use a quick clear coat to seal the deal. Right now, I’m loving one of the new Spring Collection colors: Ole Caliente. It has a summery-feel. And is very true to the bottle color.

2. My Nook – + Reading

I was one of those people who said they would never buy a Nook because she loved reading physical books too much. The ironic thing is that I wasn’t reading any books at all. So far this year, I’ve killed 4 books with a goal of 50. Since I’ve joined Good Reads, it really has been great since it allows me to track my progress and connect with other fellow readers. I also joined the @Twook__Club, which got me excited to read and chat about books, too. Ah! I feel like such a little nerd. Love it.

3.  Gotye, Rufus Wainwright, Blue October, and that one song by One Republic

It’s no secret that I love music and Live Concerts make me happy all over. I’l already got one concert under my belt (Gotye and Kimbra), and this weekend, I’m about the head to my second, which will no doubt by my favorite since it’s Blue October.  I also am still comepletely in love with “Good Life” by One Republic. It instantly makes my mood improve. I was introduced to Rufus Wainwright by going to the Philadelphia Ballet with my housemate (he keeps me classy). I was so in love with the music, and have been totally into it ever since.

4. Boyfriend Tees from Target

So comfortable. So stylish. So incredible. So Money sucking. So worth every penny.

5. 6. 7. 8. – The Biggest Loser, Dance Moms, The Voice, and #IDADDICT

TV has surprisingly entered my life in a big way this year. I’m loving the Biggest Loser because it’s super inspirational this season as they’re attacking all of the excuses. From “Working out isn’t fun” to “I can’t lose weight on my own” or “I can’t lose weight on vacation”, they’ve hit a lot of excuses. It’s down to the final 6. Plus, Bob is hot.

Dance Moms is a hot damn mess. But coming from a dance background,  I really love watching the little ones preform. I’m even considering going back to dance school. (RIGHT)? My mom has also gotten into Dance Moms – had to share my addiction.

The Voice. Adam Levine. Blake Shelton. Cee Lo petting his fluffy white cat. COME ON, how can you not love watching these eye canday/crazy pants people? X-Stina is okay too.

Oh, Investigation Discovery, I love you. SOmething about watching all of the crrimes unfold and serial killers being captured. I’m sure I’ve mentioned that I’ve been a true-blue crime fan since I was 9, and I watched Unsolved Mysteries and Rescue 9-1-1 while everyone else has been watching Dawson’s Creek. I’m truly an #IDAddict and not ashamed to admit it.

9.Starbucks Iced Venti Chai

Need I say more?

10. Audio Books.

They’re not just for the blind anymore, yo. I purchased my first audio book (Dead Until Dark; the first book in the True Blood/Sookie Stackhouse series and I’m already in love. I think listening enables me to comprehend more. Plus, I look like I’m deep in thought so no one bothers me, when in fact, I’m indulging in vampires.

As I’m finishing this post, I can think of about a thousand more things, but this’ll do for now.

What’s your big addiction, guys? I’d love to hear alllll about it. Come, gather ’round.

Pretty Pretty Eggs

Are those eggs pretty? Yeah, I think so to! Hey y’all! My name is Heather and blog over at Musings of Heather. We are doing another Vodka Girls Blog Swap, and I would like to thank Katie for hosting me today! Isn’t she awesome? I know she is!

Easter is this Sunday. Can you believe it? It feel like time has flown by and here we are, Easter, BAM! Today, we are talking about Easter traditions.

Growing up, we had a few Easter traditions. My favorite was always the night before Easter. We would dye eggs. Fresh from a bath, wet hair and all, I remember my mom pouring the vinegar in the colored cups then adding the appropriate color table to the corresponding cup. I LOVED watching them fizzle. Then the dipping would be begin. Leaning over the kitchen table, face inches from the cups, just watching and waiting. That was always the hard part, but we always ended up with pretty eggs! Easter morning, my sister and I would get up early and see what the Easter bunny left us. It was always clothes (why the Easter bunny thought I needed more clothes, I have no idea) and candy. I didn’t like digging for all the candy because I HATED the grass in the basket. We were usually the ones to clean it up After the candy and clothes, it was dress time! I am sorry that I don’t have a picture to show the dresses that my mom would put us in. They were hot and itchy, and I didn’t not like them. I remember one in particular. It was white with purple flowers all over it. I’ve got to find that picture! Then off to a friends house, or staying at ours, for Easter eggs hunting. The worst was waiting until you could go outside. Then it was on!

So, those are a few traditions I had growing up. I hope to keep the Easter bunny alive for my kids.

Did, or do you still, have an Easter traditions? If you do, do you plan on keeping with them as you get older?

Those of you who have been avid readers of my el-blog-o for a while now, know my struggles with mental health and have seen me through some yucky times. The other day, I mentioned that I was taking a natural approach to improving my mood. I’m suddenly interested in all of the things mother nature has to offer me. Don’t worry, I haven’t ditched my deodorant for garlic cloves or anything drastic. Yet.

Not sure if you know this or not (but with my craziness, I’m sure you do), but for the last 8 years, I’ve been on an impressive variety of anti-depressants. I’ve tried Paxil, Zoloft, Lexapro and some other medication that I can’t remember. No effect, or at least not the desired one.

About a year ago I went to a psychiatrist and was diagnosed with BiPolar Disorder. She wrote me a prescription for some drug that was going to “make me sleepy”, and scheduled me for a followup appointment. I slept for 3 days straight and never went back for the follow up. The next day, I undiagnosed myself with BiPolar disorder and pretended it never happened. I resumed my regularly scheduling medication taking.

For about 2 years now, my monthly trips to the Pharmacy have included picking up a prescription for Welbutrin as well as one for Xanax. Every month I march into Walmart and grab my prescriptions. Every day, twice a day I take my pretty pills.

Medicines can get quite pricey, especially the Welbutrin at $120 for a month’s supply, but it’s the price we pay for good mental health I suppose. I  have become quite comfortable with being on the medications.  I’m not even embarassed to tell people about my anti-anxiety medication cocktail especially after finding out that a nice percentage of the people I’ve encountered are on their own medicinal program.

About 4 weeks ago, I realized I was about to take the last Welbutrin pill in my bottle. My heart started racing, knowing that I had each and every one of my regular bills due, and $120 wasn’t just lying around waiting for me to spend it on 60 little white pills to sanity. I paced my house, wondering how bad this withdrawal was going to be. Would it be like that really bad one where I wanted to run off a bridge? Would I disappear in my room for a month and forget to shower? Would I run around naked in Rittenhouse Square again?

I did this whole ‘going off the medication’ once before when I was on Lexapro and went completely crazy. I got hyper-sensitive, cried half of the day, and was angry with the world or plotting my death the other half of the day. Was this on the menu again? I wasn’t sure, but I knew that it was going to be at least a week until I could get my hands on the medication that, in my mind, was essential for me to function.

That was a month ago.

I haven’t taken Welbutrin in close to a month. Definitely not going to lie and say that it’s been easy. Ugh. Withdrawal is a bitch.  I’m still feeling some of the side-effects, even though some professionals (read: Google’d results) say that they should be done by now. I feel a lot of internal rage, some sudden sadness, and days of total desire to do nothing but sleep.

I’m depressed, guys. It’s just who I am. It runs in my family, and there’s a chance I’ll always be a little lower on the happy-juice in my brain. Some days are okay. I feel good. Others I hurt from head to toe. It’s hard to communicate this to people who notice I’m a little off. People who have a disease can easily say “Oh, my <<insert disease here>> is acting up”, and they’re martyred. But when asked “what’s wrong” and my reply is “my depression, it’s really bad today.”, I’m instantly put on suicide watch and I feel that the quality of my work, and who I am as a person in general is instantly questioned.

No matter how I slice it though, some days hurt.

Instead of reaching for my $6 bottle of Xanax to numb the pain, which honestly is the easiest thing in the world to do, I’m trying something different. I’m exploring the natural side to this whole mental health thing. I was given some suggestions for my therapist on ways to supplement the chemicals that I am clearly missing in my noggin.

Thanks to my good ole Momma who is a sought after manager at Walgreens, I’m now the proud owner of Melatonin, St. John’s Wort, and Evening Primrose Oil. After nearly a decade of pumping chemicals into my body every day, I’m going natural. This is partly due to the financial thing, but also out of curiosity. Could my 10 year search for clarity and wellness be in Aisle 11 of Walgreens?

I took my first dose of Melatonin about an hour ago and I’m still awake. Still not ruling it out. Tomorrow, I’ll give the Worty-stuff a try and see if it really does boost my mood.

I hope St. John knows what he’s in for.

I know I said last time that I’m running again, but I’m not anymore.

Here’s the thing. I love everything about running except for the part where I have to actually run. Something about moving my body for 30 minutes straight without stopping, only to gag and heave throughout is just not glamorous. And yet, running the Ben Franklin Bridge and completing a 5K are high on my Life List and the thought excites me to no end.

A walking contradiction, I tell you.

I want to get back into the habit of working out. I figure that finding something that I want to do is going to be key here.

Little known fact: I was a dancer for about 10 years. I toyed with the idea of going back to my old dancing school and taking a few classes – maybe even being in a recital. I miss those days. There is the financial aspect of that, though. Back in the day when I put my adorable tap-shoes on and got obnoxious costumes, my mom picked up the tab. Now, I’d have to do that.

Then, there’s Zumba. I know I could get the routines down, but it’s the whole “being a beginner” thing. I’m okay in new social situations, but I am not good in situations in which most girls are moving their hot bodies, and I’m doing some kind of body movement that resembles a seizure.

There are spinning classes, and rowing classes, and pole dancing classes, and stripper classes, but I’m just on epic overwhelm of all the things available. I’m going to find something good, something fun, something with a little bit of dance groove in it.

Stay tuned.

In other news:

I’m off my anxiety medication. I learned the hard way that going off that shit cold turkey is about as good of an idea as making toast while in the bathtub. And yet, I did it again. Cold turkey. No cutting down my dose, just flat out stopped. I had a few tough days, but I think I’m slowly getting better. I still feel a lot of anxiety right now – the chest pains, the hostility, the anger and saddness. I’m sure I have some sort of chemically charged imbalance, but instead of filling my Rx , I’m examining some natural alternatives.

I figure that if I take some Omega 3 and St. John’s Wort and get the same sort of stress busting mood boost as I do on the Welbutrin, then I’d rather do that. Also, instead of taking Tylenol PM, I’m told Melatonin is a good aid in sleeping.

This is a huge step for me as I was perfectly okay with taking Welbutrin and Xanax for breakthrough stress. But now, I want to try out more natural substitutes. Heck, if I end up needing medication, then so be it. But I want to give it a whirl without.

Did you know that amazing things come out of Australia?

Me either.

Sorry, Australia, I was ignorant to your awesomeness.

One of those things is TimTam. Another of those things is my housemate. A third thing is Savage Garden.

On Friday night, I was introduced to a forth.

My wonderful housemate and I went to see Gotye in concert. This was his idea since he originates from the land down un-dah, but guys, you know me, I was all over the opportunity. When I go to concerts, I prefer to go to see people that I know so that I can sing along, but I made a special exception in the name of broadening my musical reach.

Or something like that.

Housemate filled me in on Gotye, and how he’s huge in Australia and won the Triple J Top 100 countdown. To my surprise, Gotye had a single that had reached over here to the U.S. I watched the music video for “Somebody That I Used To Know” and was half freaked out by and half obsessed with this guy. I mean, the fact that Gotye is naked in his Somebody That I Used To Know video didn’t hurt his case, either.

But you know, there are tons of one-hit-wonders who sing one amazing song and then all of the other stuff blows. I assumed this Australian dude would be the same. I became obsessed with listening to his songs and googling photos of him.

The obsession grew over the next few weeks as I listened to Gotye’s new album and fell hopelessly in love with just about every single song on it. The lyrics are just incredible. They make me happy all over. Some are even peppy and happy. Most of you know how much of a Blue October fan I am, and their songs are mostly depressing and I tend to like more emotionally charged songs.

But then Gotye whips out songs that make me want to dance all over the place.

The concert was obviously incredible. Everyone was dancing around, singing along, including the housemate and I. Of course. I mean, have you SEEN me at a concert?

I happily added Gotye to the top of my list of concerts that I attended this year. He’ll sit there alone for about a week and a half. I’ll then be adding Blue October and Michael Jackson’s Cirque.

I LOVE CONCERT SEASON.

If you want to rock out to some Gotye, I’d suggest listening to these songs:

Feel Good-songs: “I Feel Better”  | “In Your Light”

Lyrical Genius: “Save Me”

Dance, Dance: “Eyes Wide Open”

…actually, the entire Smoke and Mirrors album is a win.

So, I’ve been running again.

Yeah, I know, I can’t believe it either.

I’ve tried doing the running thing several times but each time, within about 2 weeks, I decide I’m not in the mood to do it, I hate it, and I’m going to stop. And each time, I put on another 10 lbs.

It’s seriously like clockwork. Big. Fat. Clockwork.

I remember the first time I saw runners. I was in NYC for a Blogger Meetup, and the NYC Marathon was going on. I got caught in the middle of it while heading back to my hotel, and I heard the cheers, saw the tears and sweat, and was overwhelmed with inspiration. You’d think by now that I would have gone back to that inspirational place again, and taken part in a race.

Nope. ZERO races under my belt.

My biggest difficulty in exercising and all around healthiness is accountability. 

About a year and a half ago, my cousin and I decided we were going to try running together. It went really well since one would convince the other that we had to run, even when we didn’t want to. Since no one else that I know is at the same pace as I am right now, I’m left with myself.

It’s really not as lonely as it sounds. I swear.

People have said that a great way to hold yourself accountable with running is to register for a race. The idea is that since you spent money to run that race, you’ll find more value in it. I’m not very attached to money – if I don’t run the race, I just lose some money. I still avoid the hard part – or the potential of failing.

With my most recent running attempt, I’m taking it more seriously by planning to run. I tell myself before I go to bed, “I’m going to go to bed at 11, then wake up, then go running.” Declaring this to myself has been a great help, and enables me to set a plan. I also have tried the whole “lay out your clothes the night before” thing. That hasn’t been an effective way to keep me motivated so much as setting my intention for the next day has been, but it’s been somewhat helpful in that I wake up and see my running shoes hanging on my door.

I need structure. Period. I tried running on my own terms, but I give up too early and start walking when I know I can run more. So, I’ve started the Couch 2 5k program again. This time, I started with Week 3.

This time, for this running goal (which is running a 5k race as well as 4 miles at the Multiple Sclerosis Walk/Run in May), I don’t have an accountability partner. Only myself. At the end of the day, I’m the one who is responsible for what I do and how hard I work and train.

So, here I go again. Attacking this “get healthy” goal. Only this time, I don’t want to let myself down. Instead of worrying about disappointing someone else, I’m investing that focus into myself. Because I do adore myself.

Or I’m learning to.

I’ll see you at a finish line this year. Swearsies.

**Photo Credit: Danielle Wahlquist Lynch