At the BlogHer ’14 Closing Party last Saturday night, I was in the front row when Rev Run from Run-D.M.C. took the stage. Sure, I’m white with size 11 feet which make it impossible to dance without tripping over myself and it’s true that the front row should have probably been reserved for attendees and not employees, but I also know that life is short and opportunities to be sweat upon by one of the pioneers of rap don’t happen very often. If at all.

I also laid down on the floor in the middle of the Expo Hall with a dog from Pets Add Life. You know why? Because pets add life. I don’t have a picture of the dog because two days later I had to FEVERISHLY delete pictures and video from my phone to make room for pictures and video of Justin Timberlake. As my friend Melisa says, “I see where your priorities are.”

Objects are closer than they appear.

So close, yet so far.

What?

In the last week, I sipped sangria under the setting sun and the Santa Cruz mountains, took a road-trip with my daughter, spent time with wonderful friends and inspirational writers, and took a beautiful walk with my son. I also drank a Sonic slush with Nerds in it. Hashtag, livin’ large.

I also had a pretty rough, emotional breakdown.

Yesterday my Zoloft was all, “I don’t THINK so” and I spent a good portion of the day crying and wishing I could crawl into bed and wake up to find all my problems solved. Luckily, I have children who kind of still need me to take them places, a puppy who is relentless about needing to pee, and work deadlines that kept me from lying in a horizontal position all day.

I also have a husband who, despite his own frustrations, called me and told me to meet him at the gym and a trainer who would not take no for an answer. Those two guys, and a whole lot of free-weights, pulled me from the depths. I showed up at the gym a swollen, red, splotch-faced mess, but I haven’t shed a tear since my first set of exercises last night.

There were times yesterday when I felt like I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other, but I did. Lunge-style. I can’t tell you how my mind and body are connected, but they most definitely are.

What I can tell you is that this living life to the fullest thing? It’s exhausting. I don’t know who would imagine that physically exhausting yourself MORE is the answer, but for me it is.

Now I know the next time I feel that down, all I need to do is get up. I’m not saying that it’s easy and I’m not saying this will work for you. But, me? I’ll take anything that lets me keep making memories. Me and my Adidas have things to do.

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Two days ago was my son’s 12th birthday; the day to commemorate how far he’s come after beginning his life being whisked away via ambulance to another hospital. The same hospital where his dad and I have sat, time after time, wringing our hands in the waiting room during his many surgeries. This child of mine, for whom I have given so much time and even more energy is now nearly a teenager. I never thought we’d make it this far.

And, yesterday was Mother’s Day; a day to remember the first time I held my son. A day for me to cherish my boy and his sister and, honestly, after the 12 years we’ve had with my youngest that’s all I wanted to do. I wanted to savor every moment of motherhood.

The combination of these two important dates were churning up a lot of memories. I was feeling pretty emotional, so when I found out my son was writing some nice things about me at his Scout banquet the other night I thought it was perfect timing. I knew it would be just what I needed to make me feel better and focus on the present.

As I stood with other parents, he approached me with this.

Then he handed it to me and said, “Here, Mom. I’m sorry I drew you so fat.”

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Fair warning: I’ve already taken my Ambien so this may not end well. In fact, it will likely end with a string of bbbbbbbbbbb.

I went to the gym today for the sixth time in eight days. When one of the trainers asked if I was training for a race, I pointed to my head and said, “Yes, a mental one.” It’s taken me a long time to realize it, but I finally have the clarity to know my mind is messed up. Wait.

Physical activity – and I mean HARD Crossfit training, or a good run (but my good runs are really just extended bad runs) are the only things that help me manage stress well.

I realized last week that I could feel my mind and body slipping into a familiar state of anxiety. I am so in tune with the connection between my weakened brain and the quivering needs of my muscles….oh, who am I fooling. I had a particularly stressful afternoon and came home and went right for a baked potato. THAT was how I realized it. Once I find myself turning to carbs for emotional needs, I know it’s time to invest some extra time at the gym.

And, every other day – like today – it worked. Not only did I complete most of my work project that’s due tomorrow, I managed to go to the grocery store and make dinner, vacuum, and fold some laundry. I functioned. AFTER the workout.

Maybe it’s the encouragement I get, maybe it’s seeing my own strength improve a lot over the last few months, maybe I need to know that I can accomplish a set of chin-ups before moving onto a career challenge. Either way, this gym and these trainers are all helping me get to a place where my mind feels right and that’s not an easy task. The muscles I’m gaining are a total bonus.

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I hate myself.

Wait, let me clarify that. I hate things about myself. Mostly the large things, like my thighs and my waistline.

I hate that stores don’t stock shoes in size 11, how I can’t find a decent sports bra, or that shopping for eyeglasses involves me telling the sales clerk that she needs to show me the frames for pumpkin-headed people.

I hate not being able to cross my legs under a table, having no room in airplanes, or that the seat in my car doesn’t go back far enough for my liking. Also, long-sleeved shirts that look more like 3/4 length.

And, for crying out loud, my earlobes.

Of course this is just the way I was made and I wouldn’t be me without resembling a giant – I’d certainly have a lot less fodder for this blog, that’s for sure. Just once, though, I’d like to wear heels without towering over everyone.

Sure there are benefits; like being able to reach the tall shelf without a stool and never having to worry about someone blocking your view. That’s about it. Being a big girl ain’t easy.

Palming a basketball, however? Piece of cake.

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