How my FitBit turned me into an obsessive basketcase

Behold, the Fitbit in all it's glory.

Fitbits are amazing.  These little gizmos can monitor just about everything that happens in your day.  Miles walked, steps taken, calories burned, heart rate, food intake, hydration, sleep...just about the only thing they don't monitor is your poo (though I'm sure that's coming in a future model).  

So why am I getting rid of mine?

TL;DR version

 I am an anxious weirdo with obsessive tendencies.  I also have a history of some disordered health, eating, and fitness behavior.  

The whole story

I got the Fitbit as a Valentine's Day gift last year.  Technically, I bought it for myself...Jeff got himself some sweet ass noise-cancelling headphones and I said "Happy Valentine's Day, those are from me, and I'm getting a Fitbit."  I ordered myself a Charge HR, because I wanted the most accurate calorie monitor (you can see where this is going already, I'm sure).  Also, I was on an absolutely HUGE dose of beta blockers last year, and I wanted to make sure my HR wasn't getting too low (turns out, my resting HR was in the 40's for most of 2015.  Being able to show evidence of this to my doctor, coupled with my super low BP (100/60) got my beta blocker dose cut in half.  So thanks for that, Fitbit)!

It came in the mail and I was super excited.  I charged it up, slapped it on, and set up the app on my computer.  I used the pre-set goals from Fitbit itself (10,000 steps, 5 miles, 10 floors, and 2,500 calories) for a few months before starting to tweak them.

Guess which one I tweaked.

I'll give you one subtle hint.

I thought, "I could burn 3,000 calories in a day."  So I increased that goal.  On days that I met the goal, I was so happy.  On days that I didn't meet the goal, I felt like a failure.  

A friggin arbitrarily selected goal on a goddamn electronic fitness tracker made me feel like a failure.  Why?  Because I don't not meet goals, dammit.  That's just not how I operate.

On days that I knew I wouldn't be as active, I ate less (like, way less than my nutritionally recommended plan that I pay actual money for science-y people to develop for me) to make sure my calorie burn was still significantly over my intake.  This subsequently led to eating like shit when I'd come home starving at the end of the day (now, when I say "like shit," I mean "like shit for me."  It was still miles better than I ate before I started treating my body respectfully).  

On days that I ate more, I felt obligated to go work out, even if it was supposed to be a rest day.  Even if I was exhausted.  EVEN IF I HAD FUCKING BRONCHITIS.  BRONCHITIS, Y'ALL.  Remember when I coughed so hard I peed myself at the gym last spring?  I blame Fitbit.

When I work out, I like to set goals for myself, even with cardio.  I started by saying "I'll do 300KCal of cardio."  Then it was 400.  Then it was 500.  If I got tired or ran out of time and had to stop before my goal was met, I was upset with myself.  EVEN THOUGH I HAD WORKED OUT AND DONE SOMETHING HEALTHY FOR MY BODY.  

I know for a lot of people, that much calorie burn is nothing.  But you know who (besides me, clearly) tracks their KCal so meticulously and workouts less than their goal "don't count?"  You know who else gets upset with themselves when they mess up their calorie burn by eating more than they want to while still eating less than they should?

Compulsive exercisers and people with eating disorders, that's who.

And another thing.

I didn't want to lift as much or as often.

Why?

I can't flippin believe it, but because my lifting workouts didn't burn as many calories as cardio.  Even though they're friggin EXHAUSTING.  Even though I know increasing your muscle mass is what leads to a higher resting calorie burn rate.  Even though one of my goals is to get stronger.  

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to throw my Fitbit into the nearest river.  But also, I didn't want to litter.  I hear those tickets are expensive (*wink*).  

This tool that I had wanted and that I thought had been so helpful to me, was no longer a tool.  It was a shackle.  It was a weight.  It was leading me down a path toward increasingly disordered behavior.  And I knew it had to go.

Pictured above: my Fitbit Charge HR.  Looks comfy.

It was peeling apart a little near the display, and still under warranty, so I contacted Fitbit for a replacement.  I also asked them if I could raffle it off or donate it, and they said that was fine (ethics, yo)!  The new one is due to arrive this week, and I just need to figure out how to get it the hell outta my house and turn it into a blessing for someone else.

I worked out this morning without the Fitbit.  At first, I felt a little naked.  My first thought was, "why am I doing this if there's no record of it?"  Then I realized, my shrinking food baby and growing bro biceps are the record.  My pants that are now too big.  My blood pressure meds that have been decreased.  My c-pap that will hopefully be going away next year.  When I thought about that, I didn't give a flying turd how many calories I burned.  Or how long I worked out.  Or how many steps I had taken.  The only thing I counted was reps.  It was magical.

Again: I think Fitbits are fantastic.  They can be an amazing tool for monitoring and improving habits.  The Charge HR and Surge can monitor heart rate, which is a huge improvement for those with some health problems that want to be active.  They are just not positive tools for me.

Also, if calorie counting works for you, DO IT!  It plays too much into my anxious and obsessive side and leads to ugliness.

The great stimulant experiment

DISCLAIMER: I'm not a moron.  I know pre-workout is for strength training.  With that said, read on...

Oh my holy God, y'all.  Pre-workout.  It should probably be illegal, because it was awesome.  And terrible.

So, I had some samples of pre-workout and other assorted things (delicious protein for days that I forget to pack my breakfast for work, mostly) from the Vitamin Shoppe (thanks, Strongman/ma'am competition!) and I thought, I wonder if this is all it's cracked up to be.  So I thought I'd give it a whirl.

It was orange-flavored.  And it tasted like glorious Tang.  Just like Grandma Irma used to make.

The stuff winners are made of, apparently.

I drank it on the way to the gym, and on my first few minutes on the elliptical.  Yes, it was cardio day.  I tried it anyway.

At first, I was like, "meh."  I felt pretty much the same.  On cardio day, I tend to get bored, and typically spend 5-10 minutes on one machine before switching to another, and another, and another.  

The patron saint of cardio day.

After about 20 minutes, I realized I was still on the elliptical, and wasn't bored yet.  Score one for pre-workout.

I checked my fitbit, and my heart rate was slightly higher than it normally is.  Now, it was still on the low-ish end for a cardio session (my beta blockers lower my heart rate, because SCIENCE!), and I'm not sure if it was higher because of the caffiene in the pre-workout or because my beta blockers were just decreased.  I'm going to say it was both.

The husband finished his training session, I hopped off the elliptical.  Checked the fitbit, and I'd burned about 90 more calories than normal in 35 minutes.  Score one for pre-workout.

Then, we went to the grocery store.

I could NOT shut up.  Words kept spilling out of my mouth and it felt like I had to say them or my brain would explode from being too full of thoughts and information.  I talk a lot to begin with, and according to Jeff, this "side effect" was EXTREMELY noticeable.

Conclusion:  pre-workout may or may not be straight up methamphetamines.  Having never used methamphetamines, I can't say for sure, but based on my knowledge of them (a few pharmacology classes and the movie "Requiem for a Dream"), I can only assume this is the case.  I do not suggest trying methamphetamines to test this hypothesis, by the way.

Pictured above: pre-workout supplement

Jeff has also asked me not to use the pre-workout any more, because of the incessant talking and, quote, "you were just weird."  I agree with this request...partially to honor Jeff's wishes, and partially because I WAS frickin weird on it.

Experiment over! 

Street Harassment. The uncoolest.

Ughhhhhhh, you guys.

Frickin street harassment.  Is it still street harassment if it happens in a park, on a trail?  Trail harassment?  Well, no matter, I'm going to call it street harassment anyway.

Let me tell you two little stories:

Early April 2014.  I'm feeling pretty good about myself because I've started walking to and from work.  The weather is glorious, I've got my favorite blue sweater on, and I'm on my way home to see my husband.  The day couldn't have been nicer.

Until I turn onto State Street.

"Go back to Burger King, fatty!" comes the shout from over a block away.

I try not to look at the person shouting, but I did before I could help myself.

"Yeah, you, you fat bitch!"

Oh, my tender little heart.  I am devastated.  My soul is shattered by these few, cruel words.  I continue walking home as hot, angry tears stream down my face under my polka-dotted sunglasses and immediately collapse into my husband's arms, sobbing uncontrollably.  I'm fat, I know it.  But do people REALLY need to take precious time from their day to spew hateful words at me?  Seems like a waste of energy, and yet it happened all. the. TIME.

Fast forward to yesterday.

It's a gorgeous, hot, sunny day, and I decided to take Taco for a walk in Telulah Park along the Newberry Trail.  Once we got to the park, it took us awhile to find the actual trail, but once we did it was peaceful and gorgeous.  We walked along the Fox River, barked at geese and ducks (just Taco), enjoyed the solitude, sat and dipped our feet in the river (just me), and then continued up the hill back to the park.  After meandering along the trail through the park, we came upon a park bench with three "gentlemen" (and that term is pretty generous, as you'll see).  

After letting the toddler that was with them pet Taco and introducing him to them as well, came the inevitable

"What's your name, baby?"

Response one: Please don't call me baby.  Response 2: Angela.  Because you will use my formal name, fools.

We kept walking about another mile and eventually turned around (I don't think the trail is a loop...but who knows because seriously, it's not marked well at all).

When we came upon their park bench, my new "friend" said "Did you come back for me?"

My sarcastic response was "Of course, I missed you so much these last fifteen minutes, total stranger."  I laughed and kept walking.

"Shake that ass, baby!" 

Oh.  HELL.  No.  I turned around while walking away (backward) and responded "No!" in my best scolding voice.  I turned back around and kept walking.

The three amigos and their baby then got up and started following me down the trail...or at least walking in the same direction.  They were mercifully slow because of the stroller and small child that was with them.

"You looking fine, girl!"

No response from me.

"Hey, you wanna be my girl?"

No response from me.

"I'd like to tap that ass."

No response from me.  At this point, my blood is boiling and I'm about ready to go ape on them, but I just want to get to my car and get home so I can complain about them to Jeff.

"Hey, Angela, are you into three-ways?"

At this point, I promptly lost my shit.  They were shouting in my direction as there was about 100 feet in between us on the trail.  I turned around and shouted back, "Yes, if you're into guys.  I'll invite my husband!"

"Aww hell no."  "Fuck that shit."  "You cocktease."  

Seriously?  Seriously?  SERIOUSLY?  Apparently being female and going for a walk with your fucking dog makes you a cocktease.  The more you know.

Here's the moral of the story.
Once upon a time, I thought that losing weight would make the street harassment stop.  I thought people shouted evil things at me because I was fat (well, still am kinda fat, but you know what I mean.  Fatter than current status), so when I lost weight, nobody would have cause to say mean things anymore.  Hooray!

SURPRISE!  People shout things and say rude things.  And it seems like it's because I have the audacity to take my vagina and breasts outdoors in public.  Unsupervised by a male and everything.  HOW DARE I!  I should be shamed into submission for merely being female and existing, let alone running amok on public hiking trails!  I should also figure out a way to leave my vagina and breasts at home...but that sounds scientific and is clearly a job for a man.

We all know that having a vagina makes you weak, fragile, and submissive.  Therefore, it's not only acceptable to street harass vagina-havers, but it's your DUTY AS AN AMERICAN to make sure they feel as weak, fragile, and submissive as you feel they should be.

For the record, here is a list of things it's acceptable to say to a stranger as she walks her dog:
1) Your dog is cute (this will make us instant BFFs, just FYI)
2) Gorgeous day, isn't it?
3) Your shoe is untied (if it actually is)
4) Do you have the time?
5) Your dog is cute (I know I already said it, but it's important)
6) Help! (if you are in distress, obvi)
END OF LIST.

**P.S. This also applies to males and those whose genders you are not sure of.  It's pretty cis-female centric because I'm writing from personal experience.  But how about let's just not harass each other, k?

Goals

I like setting goals and crushing them.  In that past, setting goals was a frustrating, depressing process for me.  I was really good at the planning stages...and not so great at the actual execution.  I had known for a loooooong time that I wanted to/needed to lose weight and get healthier, but no idea how to do it.  Eat less calories than you take in (duh), but to be honest, there's a lot more to it than that, at least for me.

Counting calories is super triggering for me.  I can't do it without feeling restricted, anxious, and stressed.  It always always always leads to a binge and feeling badly (and sick).  So I don't do it.

Weight Watchers was fantastic in terms of measuring intake without calorie counting, but, for me, it didn't teach me how to eat healthy.  I could eat nothing but Snickers bars all day as long as I didn't go over my daily points.  I was losing a little weight, which was great, but still feeding myself with a lot of processed crap.

Everybody is different, and different things work for different people.  I know people who have lost tons of weight counting calories, on WW, on Atkins, or on another program, and it makes sense for them.  Fantastic!  Keep it up, yo!

What does this have to do with goals, you ask?

Until I had a plan that I could sustainably execute, my goals were just wishes.  I wanted them, but wasn't taking appropriate steps to meet them.

Over the past year, my goals have evolved as my health and fitness have.  My first goal was to get through my first workout without crying, dying, or vomiting.  It may seem like a ridiculous or easy goal, but it was my Everest.  I was so intimidated by the gym and my trainer at that time, and that first workout was terrifying.  But I did it.  Goal met.  After I got into the swing of things, my first weight loss goal was 20lbs.  After that, it was to be below 300lbs.  Then to lose 75.  Then 100.  I've also had NSV related goals...for example, comfortably sitting in an airplane seat without a seatbelt extender was a goal I crushed on my trip to AZ in March.  Even things like sitting in a restaurant booth comfortably or in a chair with arms without being in pain were goals that I had.

Now that I've met my 100lb goal (plus some, yay!), it's time to re-evaluate and make new goals.  I have to admit, I'm at a bit of a loss.  I want to gain some water weight, which probably sounds ridiculous to most of you.  But even though I drink water all day (and pee about a billion times a day as a result), I am chronically dehydrated (as are lots of people).  My body composition is improving slowly but surely, and my percentage of body water is slowly creeping up.  The more fat I lose, the more it goes up (thank GOD).  But it's only at 39%, and it should be at least 50%.  The problem with this goal is that I need it to be tangible and concrete, and I'm not sure how to quantify water weight gain in a way that is attainable on a monthly basis.  *le sigh*

I would also love to put on some muscle.  Again, my percentage of muscle keeps increasing as my fat percentage goes down, but pounds wise, I've actually lost some muscle this year.  The small amount I've lost, considering that I've lost 113lbs, is pretty fantastic.  But eventually, I'd like some sweet gains.  I want a big, amazing ass, what can I say (well, it's already pretty big and amazing, but I want it to be like Kim Kardashian-ey).

Also, I'm most certainly not done losing weight (at least, I hope not).  I'd still like to lose a solid 50 more pounds, possibly more.  But it's tricky, because I'm now at the point where people are starting to ask about my "goal weight."  And I have no idea what it is.  I hope I'll know it when I get there, but as of now, I have no idea what it is.  Because it depends more on how I feel and look than the number on the scale (never thought I'd say that).  I could surprise myself and stop before my 50lb loss.  Maybe I'll get to 210 and decide that's perfect.  Maybe I'll lose the 50 and decide I need to lose more.

I guess I'm just trying to throw this out there...make goals for yourself!  Make them achievable, measurable, and REALISTIC, so you can pleasantly surprise yourself when you crush them.

Go gain a pound of muscle.

Go sit in a restaurant booth.

Go get that Kim Kardashian ass.

Choices

I actually hate this stock photo.  But I'll get to that in a second...

Choice is a beautiful, terrifying thing.  I'm able to say that it's terrifying because it's something I, as a white, straight, cisgender, American, educated woman, am able to take for granted.  A LOT.  Not to get political on you, but holy shit, I have some serious privilege and associated guilt.  Given the state of the world, I guess I'd rather have the guilt than not have the privilege, and it's crap to have to think that way.

Moving on...

Some of the choices we have to make are easy.  Do I go to work today or stay in my sweatpants watching Netflix?  Well, unless you are ill or have agoraphobia, you will probably make the decision to go to work.  Unless you don't like gainful employment, of course (no judgement).

Some are more difficult.  Where will I go to college?  What do I want to be when I "grow up?"  Do I want children?  If so, how many?  Who will I vote for (this may be easy or difficult depending on who's running)?

Some choices should be easy, but can challenge us (me) sometimes (a lot).

Will I eat this candy or won't I?
Will I work out today, or will I stay in my sweatpants watching Netflix (I like Netflix, ok?)?
Will I have all of the garlic naan ever made when I go out to dinner with my BFF?
Will I have a glass of water, or will I have a third latte?

The struggle is real, y'all.

There is a reason I get annoyed (somewhat secretly, but I'm not THAT good at hiding it) when people say they "slipped up" on their healthy eating and exercise is because it's not a slip up.  It's not an accident.  Nobody hog-tied you and forced you to eat Doritos all day (I hope).  You didn't lose your footing and fall mouth first into a pan of brownies.  The gym didn't secretly pack up and move to a different part of town without telling you.

It's not a slip up.  It's not a mistake.  It's a choice.  You may not even realize it.

I recently read an article (and no, I won't cite it, because I can't even remember where/when exactly I saw it) that said "discipline is prioritizing what you want most of all over what you want right now."  Truer words have never been spoken.  It doesn't just apply to health and fitness, it applies to everything we do.

I couldn't find the original quote, but this is close enough.  You get the idea.  Also, don't tell me what to do, Silhouette Person.  You don't know my life!

I've written about priorities before.  I'll probably write about priorities again, because it's something I constantly have to remind myself of.  I have several priorities in my life that are constantly competing for the top position.  Work, school, my marriage, my friends, my family, Taco, home maintenance, my health.

For the first time in a long time, my health usually wins the top spot.  Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes, for example, I wake up at 5am absolutely frickin exhausted.  The night before, school was my priority and I stayed up studying until midnight.  Today, as much as I would like for my personal health to be the priority and go back to bed to rest, work needs to win because I'm scheduled to be in at 6 and SURPRISE, adulthood is no fun sometimes!

Today, I probably should have worked out, but I prioritized my friends and social relationships and went out to lunch instead.

Do I feel badly about it?  Meh, tomorrow's a new day, the gym will still be there.  And it's a choice I made.  Consciously.  Deliberately.  They did not kidnap me and take me to Basil Cafe (although truthfully, I would LOVE that).  There's no excuse, there's just what happened.  The choice I made.  And it was worth it.

I also don't like to think of it as "good choices" and "bad choices."  Maybe "better choices" and "not as great" choices?  I don't know how to phrase it.  But I feel like calling it a bad choice shames us for what we do.  And I am not hopping on that train.  Are our less than spectacular choices what define us?  NO.  So why do we shame ourselves for them?

You can choose to spend your time excusing your "slip ups" or "cheating" or "mistakes" on your fitness journey.  But I can almost guarantee, you will begin to feel badly about them.

What I've chosen to do is to own my choices, without apologies or excuses.  For me, this is the best (only) way to forward movement, progress, and growth.  It gives me the freedom to do what I want with the pride I feel whenever I make a choice that improves my life.

The times they are a-changin'

It's time for a transition.  A new start.  New adventures.  A change.  *BARF*

Pictured above: ME

So.  My trainer is done training.  He's moved on to explore different opportunities.  I knew it was coming (thank god he weaned me off of his services by cutting his schedule down first).  I've been waiting for this day for a few weeks, and I've anticipated being a sad panda about it.

Pictured above: EVERYONE WHO HAS ANY INFLUENCE ON MY PLANS.  DAMN YOU.

Surprisingly, I'm not a wreck.  I'm actually feeling really good, and way more optimistic than I thought I would be.  Especially considering how anxious I am.  I thrive on routine and "change" is a big fat scary boogeyman (unless I instigate the change, of course).

My being okay with this transition is no reflection on my trainer.  Pretty sure he was frickin AWESOME and changed my life in ways I never could have or would have on my own.  Buuuuuut...

Sometimes change is a good thing.  Changing up my routine.  Changing up my guidance.  Exploring new mentors and new methods and new places.  But a lot of change can lead to stress.  Especially for an anxious little bee like myself.

In addition to my trainer leaving...

My trusty, rusty Toyota finally went to the big scrap heap in the sky.  It's been sitting in a parking lot at Van's service for a week, waiting to be pitifully hauled away.  Because of this...

My husband had to get a new job.  Which is stressful for both him AND me.  Also...

It's the beginning of a new semester.  Which means ten tons of work and no time for funsies.  And...

We have so much mandatory overtime at work right now it's not even cool.


What's the point?  Am I looking for sympathy?  Empathy?  A getaway car?

Nope, just wanted to say, as much as I hate change, and sometimes transitions can suck it, I'm handling this pretty well.

And, cornball as it seems, I feel like, in large part, it has to do with my new habits.

I eliminate stress by moving my body (exercise) or sitting completely still (meditating) and if all else fails, I take a nap.  In the past, I stifled my emotions and bottled up my stress by eating or getting drunk (or smoking stuff).  Not the awesome-ist plan ever, and really stupid when you remember that I'm an educated person.

So thanks again to my lovely health gurus.  Without your guidance, I'd be navigating all this change and transition with gin and Funyuns instead of deadlifts and cardio and naps and guided meditation.

Everyone knows deadlifts are more fun than gin, anyways.  And I can't wait until my new trainer makes me do them until I swear at her. :)

Cyberbullying

Lots of people have asked over the past year, why I don't make a public facebook page like Sunshine's Journey, LoseitconKatie, PrissyMelissa, etc.  This post should explain everything...

I want to talk for a minute about bullying.

Specifically, cyberbullying.  Among adults.  Ugh.

About two years ago, I posted a comment on a blog.  The topic of the blog was basically "fat people are disgusting, are responsible for the downfall of society, and should all be killed."  It was titled something else, but those comments/sentiments were all present in the blog entry.  I'd link it, but about two months after that, the woman thankfully took down all her hateful social media accounts and dismantled her blog.  Hooray!

However, before that, she took it upon herself to try to "ruin" me.  She read my comment, used my Facebook and Instagram accounts (both set as privately as possible, btw) to find out my full name, city, and employer, and set apart attempting to destroy my life.  She sent an email to the customer service department at my workplace claiming that I'd sent her death threats (not true) and that I was using company time to harass and defame her (also not true).  She posted links to my etsy site, facebook, instragram, and a twitter account that I started and then used twice in like 2007 on her twitter and blog.  She threatened to post my address and send her "fans" after me.  She threatened to sue me and call the frickin Inspector General's office to have my nursing license revoked.  Thank god for timestamps and my company having common sense, or one simple, innocuous comment on a blog post could have had serious consequences for my career and life.

I changed all my internet personas to my fake stripper name.

Fast forward two years.

I've been following a lot of weight loss related Facebook and Instagram "celebrities" (I don't know what other word to use).  They are a kind of support system for me, which is why I follow them.  They bravely share their journeys with the world at large, and may suffer because of it.  People can be downright hateful.

One, in particular, was the victim of such hatred this very week.

Her name is Stasia2point0, and she lives in AZ.  Over the past several months, she has lost almost 100lb from her starting weight of 500lb.  She has had some financial troubles, which she posts about from time to time.  Some of her followers have taken it upon themselves to help her financially.  COMPLETELY THEIR CHOICE.  Recently, someone started a gofundme campaign to get her a new computer so she can start a youtube channel.  I have to be honest, this elicited the biggest eyeroll of my life (seriously...a $2600 Macbook to make youtube videos?  Come on...) but it was not her doing.  It was one of her followers.  If they want to get her a fancy ass computer, more power to them!

Another website of forums about bloggers got wind of this and went apeshit crazy.  It started innocently enough...people expressed annoyance that she talks about her financial problems so much and felt she was grifting for gifts and money.  While i have to admit, on a fitness page, the constant talk of financial needs gets annoying, money problems are part of general wellness, and it's her page, she can post what she damn well pleases.  When it gets overwhelming, I just don't visit her page for a few days. That's the beauty of the internet, and life in general...ignore shit you don't like and move the hell on.

Anyway, the forum then dissolved into people questioning her honesty.  Fair enough, I can imagine being skeptical of someone you don't know...but why waste your time speculating about it?

And then it further spiraled into people pulling her accounts from dating websites and commenting on her body, calling her names, critiquing her progress and whether it was good enough or fast enough, and basically tearing her down to make themselves feel good.

How, I ask you, HOW IS THAT PRODUCTIVE?  Don't people have anything better to do with their time than call someone fat and make them feel sad?  Dudes...Stasia knows she's got weight to lose, that's why she's on this health/fitness journey.

Do I agree with everything the woman has ever done or said?  No.  Does that matter?  Not really.  Does it justify calling her names and being hateful?  HELL TO THE NO.  I wouldn't wish what happened to her this week upon my worst enemy.  Whether or not she is right in her actions, nobody deserves to be the subject of ridicule.

With the backlash from a blog post that I wrote about 6 weeks ago about nutritional supplements, I can't imagine how much worse it would have been if I'd had a public page or advertised/professional blog.  The few assholes I got negativity and namecalling from could have (would have) been hundreds.  I get down on myself enough without outside help, thankyouverymuch.

The moral of the story:

-My journey is for me and me alone.  Yes, it makes me feel good when people say I motivate or inspire them, but that's not what this is about.
-I hope Stasia doesn't let this event tear her down.  She is currently taking a social media hiatus and I hope, as it was for me, the hiatus is what she needs to remember why she is doing this and what really matters.  And that she doesn't let this setback define her journey.

Have a MAGNIFICENT day! :)