Why/how I started a Bullet Journal

It's been almost a year since I last published a blog... Note: published is the key word. I write somewhat frequently, and then I delete. Or I write and then it sits in drafts for months and months as I contemplate new ways to articulate the many things going on in my brain.  I guess that was the initial reason i started my bullet journal: a confined, organized place to keep all my not-so-concise and not-so-organized thoughts together.

At about this time last year, my sister introduced me to what would soon become an obsession: Bullet Journaling. Now, before I get into it, let me just remind everyone how very unartistic I am... which made my hesitant to start - as a perfectionist, I can't handle the idea of doing something not-so-perfectly. I started off with a bang! I wanted a page for everything I could think of - and maybe, just maybe - that's what led to me 'forgetting' my bullet journal altogether. (Well that and life gets busy... you know how it is). Truth is, I went strong through the summer while I had time off, and then, when reality hit in September, the pages began to dwindle. 

Lucky for me, I met a new teaching friend at work, who is slightly more organized (read: extremely more organized) than I am - who just so happened to carry her bujo everywhere. I was re-inspired! And I am officially back on the wagon.

The benefits of bullet journal (according to Allie)
- one space for EVERYTHING: not sure where to throw that grocery list? Bullet journal. Weekly calendar? Bullet journal. Questions to ask your DR? Bullet journal. You get the idea...
- self-care: as much (or as little) 'alone time' as you allow yourself. For me, it's an hour a week of me time.
- artistic outlet for the non-artist: its somewhere to draw, to colour, to write, etc. where no one can judge you. 
- productive: i always carry my bujo with me. That way, anytime I have a minute of downtown, or something to update, it's there and ready. 
- paper is always better: come on... phone calendars are so 2010. But in all seriousness, writing stuff down is therapeutic. And it sticks in your brain longer (teacher stuff, am I right?)... plus, you can't smash the screen of a notebook.

The uncertainty of living with an auto-immune disease..

Picture this: it's Thursday night and your left hip is stiff, sore and a little swollen. You think to yourself "hey, this is normal, you've been really active, arthritis gets sore" and you move along with your life. Flash forward a couple hours, its 11pm and you're getting ready for bed. That little pain you felt earlier? It's getting worse by what seems like the minute. You're having troubles with the stairs, walking, hell, even laying on the couch is painful. You take something for the pain, and drift in and out of sleep for the night - waking up sore, readjusting and rolling back over to sleep.

You wake up Friday morning and start packing for camping, but subconsciously know that you really shouldn't go if you're feeling like this. You're sore, lethargic (but you tell yourself its from the lack of sleep) and move on with your day. It's an hour before you're supposed to leave, and you now know that its not a good idea to leave town. You lay on the couch, cancel your plans and contemplate what to do next. You don't want to go to the hospital, especially this early, because every time you do it doesn't really get you anywhere. You usually spend hours in the emergency room just to go home with pain killers and advice to 'follow-up with your doctor this coming week". 

Eventually though, the pain gets unbearable. You go to the hospital and tell them the whole story "My name is Allie Roy, I am 25 years old and I have an auto-immune disease called Behcets. I am on immune suppressant medications and am experiencing what I think is a 'flare-up' of my disease". You try to read the triage nurses expression.. Is she taking me seriously? 

Flash forward about half an hour, and they call you back in to see the doctor. This is terrifying. Half an hour? Must be serious - they never call you back that quick. You literally hobble along, trying to keep up to the nurse, and change into a gown and crawl under a heated hospital blanket (the best part, really). The doctor comes in a while later and explains the plan of action: big dose of advil/tylenol, calling the specialist, joint mobility test and taking blood samples to check that everything is okay on the inside- oh great, you think to yourself - your blood tests always come back normal.. they're going to send you home without any answers.

Time flies when you're having fun and next thing you know the doctor comes back in with some updates. Your inflammatory markers are up, your joint mobility is weak and the specialist suggests steroids and pain killers to get you through. You start crying... why? Who knows. Are you finally happy that someone is taking you seriously? Is the pain so unbearable that it draws tears? Does the word 'steroid' still make you cringe thinking back to the terrible side-effects they left on you years ago?

This was my experience these last couple days. I feel so thankful that this was a positive visit to the emergency room, because they aren't always. In the last ten years, since the onset of my symptoms I have learned that when you are faced with something that isn't black and white, something where answers are not always readily available - you never really know how the visits will go. You hold off getting treatment for fear that no one will believe you, that no one will validate your pain. This is scary. And sad. And nearly impossible to understand. 

 The truth is, I don't know why I'm writing this. It's not for sympathy, it's not for attention. It's to finally put into words the frustration and the uncertainty I feel every time there is an ounce of pain or at the first sign of weakness in my immune system. I have been looking, begging for something to write about these last couple weeks and this, this just came so naturally. It's nothing special, not descriptive or well-written, but its experience and its important. 

How and why I started 5AM workouts..

People often ask me how I workout in the morning, saying things like "I am SO not a morning person" or "I have always hated mornings"... and truth is, neither am I..  and, well, so have I. But I am even more so not a night person. Yes, that's exactly what it sounds like - I regularly refer to myself as a "mid-morning to mid-afternoon" person. Is that even a thing?

The truth in the matter is, I officially started my career as a full-time teacher this year. While I knew teaching wasn't a walk in the park, what I thought would be a day filled with second grade hugs and simple addition and subtraction problems turned into the most stressful (and rewarding!!) experience of my life. By the end of September I was exhausted. And by exhausted, I mean I was regularly in bed by 8 pm (after working until 5:30-6pm), to get up for 6:30 am. I was consistently cranky and quite often on edge which was directly reflected into both my home and work life. I was turning down social engagements and often claiming to be "too tired" to go to the gym after work or complained that I didn't have time. During the first long weekend of the school year - Thanksgiving weekend, I decided to look at ways that I could increase my energy and productivity. The more I looked into what made me happy, the easier it was to make changes. In the past, my sources of happiness were: spending time with my loved ones AND the gym.

So I found a solution: I needed to spend more time with family, friends and my boyfriend... As well as find time to be active and take care of myself physically. I decided that weekend that I would schedule at least one social engagement a week (I know, it doesn't sound like much - but it was HARD) and I would get up before work to go to the gym at least three of the five weekdays.

Much to my dismay, the Tuesday following the long weekend I actually woke up at 5am and went to the gym... and continued to do so (almost) daily. I almost immediately saw the benefits: I was happy when I got to work (conveniently earlier than if I continuously pressed snooze as I had the weeks prior), had far more patience with my students, and paid more attention to what I was eating and how much water I was drinking. After all, what was the point of 5am workouts if you undo them all with bad choices later on?

I also had more time to myself. I get to work with 45-60 minutes of alone time before the students come in. This gives me time to eat breakfast, drink coffee and get a ton of work done, generally before anyone else even enters the building. I could get home from work and not feel guilty about not working out, and actually have time to hangout and watch TV - or call up a friend for coffee.

It has now been over 7 months of (mostly) consistently getting up early to workout - and I can't imagine how I did it any other way before. I still find it nearly impossible to get out of bed for those 5AMs, but when I do - it feels amazing!

An added bonus? You can't beat the 5AM crew at the gym. No one chooses to workout at the crack of dawn unless they're serious - so while people will still shoot you a friendly smile, everyone is focused on their own workouts. It's quiet, less busy and overall more efficient to get in and out of the gym!

The truth is, there is no better way to turn your mood around than a good, hard workout. And what better way to setup your day than to start with something that makes you happy. 

The ugly truth about disordered eating...

What is disordered eating? Well, a quick google search comes up with "Disordered eating describes a variety of abnormal eating behaviors that, by themselves, do not warrant diagnosis of an eating disorder. Disordered eating includes behaviors that are common features of eating disorders, such as: Chronic restrained eating. Compulsive eating. Binge eating, with associated loss of control."

But the truth is, disordered eating is a mentally and physically exhausting way of looking at what goes in (and sorry, out) of your body at any given time. So why am I writing about this? Well, because I have wanted to for months, as this is something I am still struggling with - but just couldn't find the courage, or fight the embarrassment. 

Almost everyone that knows me knows that I have lost significant amount of weight over the last 5 or so years. For the most part, this has been done in a healthy way - eating right, exercising, etc. This is something I am tremendously proud of, and share it with anyone and everyone I meet. I do this, because not only does it motivate me to keep going, but I also hope to inspire others with my story. What most people don't know, actually there are only a handful of people who do know, is that in the past year I have suffered from disordered eating. While I don't have any of the physical signs - my battle has been truly mental. 

This is not easy for me to admit, and I can remember the denial I felt the first time a professional used those words to describe my habits. Hell, I didn't even know why I was there... I booked the appointment after a family member voiced some concerns. You see, I like to think that my lifestyle changes have all been as healthy as can be, and for the better. But, I, like many other people, analyze every single thing that I put into my mouth. I can generally accurately estimate the amount of calories in a single food or drink (I don't even count calories!!) and plan out my day to the closest macros. I know what some of you are thinking: why is that a bad thing - if it helps you stay on track ? ... and that's how I thought too, or still think, most days. 

The truth is, I am slowly learning that it is not normal to feel guilty about what you eat and drink. It is not normal to beat yourself up over one fry or a milkshake every once and a while. It is not normal to be anxious to go out with your friends because you're afraid of what they will think of what you order (my friends never openly judged me, this was a scenario I made up in my head - also, if your friends judge you on your burger, or your full-fat latte, get new friends, that's not okay). Just because these things are not normal, does not mean they're not real feelings and strong ones, at that. 

The truth is, I am still following a nutrition plan. And is that a problem? Not in the slightest. The problem is not allowing myself the self-compassion and forgiveness when I slip-up. This is something I am constantly working at. I am lucky to have the support of some great friends, who know just how much this effects my daily life - my daily thinking pattern. 

So why am I writing this now? Because over the holidays, for the first time in a while, these feelings came back full swing. I was out of my routine, both with work-outs and food, and felt terrible about myself. I had this idea in my head that I had gained copious amounts of weight, and that I was undoing all my progress thus far. I imagined that all my clothes were suddenly too tight and that everyone around me was judging every single thing I ate/drank. Well, let me tell you, this was so far from the truth... Honestly, because I have been maintaining this lifestyle for so long, I actually only gained one pound (not the ten I had imagined) which was quickly lost as soon as my re-found my routine. I will. hopefully, once again, be saying goodbye to the scale this year - however, right now, I am still learning how to be nice to myself. 

This was extremely hard to write, and even harder to post. Of all the things I am proud of that I have done, this is something that still makes me feel embarrassed/ashamed to talk about. And I know it shouldn't, but it does - and that's my reality. Right now, I am truly focusing on the idea that overall balance, an the ability to forgive slip-ups, are my personal priorities.

*Please note: eating disorders/disordered eating are mental health concerns and should be addressed by a professional to avoid further harm to your body/mind. Please seek professional help if any of this sounds too familiar - you won't regret it. 

the final countdown..

I've said it once, and I'll say it again - the week leading up to the Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer presented by Evraz is always an interesting one for me. The truth is, no matter how many times I've done the ride now (going on 4!), plus the countless training rides following the same route, there are always fears, always questions of whether or not I am physically capable of completing it. And of course, there are feelings of loss and sadness for those I am riding in honour of... and lastly, the excitement of joining thousands of other people in this incredibly well-organised weekend. It's pretty safe to say that it's an emotional roller coaster. Every. Single. Year.

The truth is, the ride has given my life so much more meaning that I could have ever thought possible. This might be cliché, and you may not think that the fundraising efforts have that great of an effect on the battle against cancer: but to me, its so much more than that. Four years ago, I remember sitting at the University on one of my long breaks between classes wondering to myself if I would ever be able to complete this ride. I went back and fourth: my inner angel and devil providing their own insight on whether or not to sign up, and, finally (with the help of some encouragement): I did it. I immediately thought to myself "what did I get myself into?" - and that's where it all started. Little did I know that four years later I would be so invested in something that had previously worried me so much. Obviously I still question my ability to complete the ride (yes, even after riding it three times without fail), but I never could have imagined how much this weekend would mean to me every year.

So what does the ride mean to me now?

It's something for me to be excited about. It's a weekend that brings up raw emotions and thoughts of people I have lost, the world has lost. It's a huge group of unbelievably supportive individuals who come together to make a whole, with a common goal for good. It's incredibly inspiring and at the same time devastatingly heart breaking all at the same time. It's something positive for me to pour my energy into: whether its through fundraising, training or trying to convince others to do it - it takes up time and leaves me feeling happy and strong. It's a chance for me to share my story, and to learn about the stories of those around me. It's a chance to feel apart of something, and apart of something big.

So to everyone who has been a part of the journey so far, or who plan to be in the future... I cannot thank you enough. Your support = my motivation.

And to anyone riding this weekend, I wish you the best of luck - and i hope that your experience is half as enriching as mine has been. See you there.

Year 1 - Starting line

Year 2 - Starting line

Year 3 - Somewhere along the route

PS, What's a post about a furnishing without a link to the donation page... ;)

http://www.conquercancer.ca/site/TR/Events/Alberta2017?px=3594558&pg=personal&fr_id=1592

Being honest.

I have goals.

Okay, so we all have goals. But I have goals that I get obsessed with. And not obsessed in a good way, but obsessed in a way that drives me to measure my progress every. single. day. which, if you have ever had fitness goals you'll know is not how it works. I also like numbers. I like concrete proof when i've reached my goals (or when I haven't) - and I take this proof to heart.

Two months ago, with the advice of a fantastic and supportive trainer, I decided to lock my scale away. At first, it was terrifying.. And I am not going to lie, the first week was really hard! But, after that, it just became normal. I didn't wake up in the morning and step on the scale first thing. I didn't weight myself getting in (or out) of the shower and I didn't weigh myself after going to the washroom - just to see the difference (don't pretend you've never done this - its a real thing, I think?). Translated: I had 0 idea if I was gaining or losing those pesky couple of pounds that seem to fluctuate day to day, and in all honesty, it felt great! I know that I need physical activity, and I (generally) know what I need nutritionally, so I carried on with my normal, scale-free life.

This week, however, I decided to reconsider my diet and work with that same trainer to create a new nutrition plan (because if you want something new, you need to do something new!). She asked for photos, measurements and wait for it... my weight. Damn. Almost two months I hadn't weighed myself, and suddenly, all the feelings of hitting the scale came spiralling back to me. I'm not going to lie, it took me about half an hour to convince myself to do it - putting it off as long as I could by doing my measurements and pictures first, and then guess what? I climbed up on a stool and took my scale down from the highest shelf in my bathroom, and stepped on it. I read the numbers and almost cried, it was my worst nightmare... I had gained 3 pounds!!! I know what you're thinking: 3 pounds really isn't that much.. But, to me, it was. And then, something crazy (or maybe rational) happened inside my brain. I decided to pull out my last set of measurements and compare them to the ones I had just taken, and saw the difference: I have lost centimetres in almost every single one of my measurement areas.

This next part is dedicated to every single person who has ever told me (or anyone, really) that the scale doesn't matter and that it isn't always and accurate tool for measuring success - call it your "I told you so" moment. I have decided to put the scale back away, indefinitely. And in the off chance I need to use it for one reason or another (similar situation, doctor's appointment, even curiosity) I'll look back at this experience and remember - weight is just a number.

Why teach.

Ever since I decided to become a teacher, I have been asked the same questions over and over – and other than the infamous “what grade do you want to teach”, the question of “why teach” is by far the most common. The truth is, I didn’t always want to be a teacher. Actually, quite the opposite. Growing up when everyone kept telling me that teaching was for me, I would laugh. You see, I was never a great student. I struggled with mental and physical health problems, not to mention lacked any ounce of self-esteem, so much so that school became a nightmare for me. I couldn’t even imagine the idea of spending the rest of my lives within the walls of a school.

It wasn’t until I was in university that I started to seriously consider my career options. Like a lot of other high school students, I was strongly encouraged (read: forced) to go to post-secondary straight after graduation. And like most, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do – or who I was. One thing that I was sure, and had always known was that I wanted to change to world.

Yea, I know, Cliché. But its really not. I went from wanting to be a child psychologist, to a nurse, to taking a year off and being unbelievable confused. It wasn’t until I was sitting at my desk; in my office job looking through university websites that started to remember all the times people had told me I should be a teacher. From that moment on it clicked, and everything I did was working towards becoming a teacher, working towards who I am now. And there was no turning back.

In your last year of university, it’s easy to get caught up in the assignments and lose sight of what you’re working towards. It’s easy to start stressing about resumes and job interviews and the future: but all it takes is one day, one reminder, to bring it all back. For me, that was today.

Today, I had the opportunity to take part in the Werklund School of Education Youth Forum as a facilitator. The event was an outlet for the kids to talk about the issues, challenges and problems facing today’s youth and then come up with strategies and action plans for them to make changes regarding these issues in their own schools. To say the dialogue blew me away is an understatement. These kids, both junior and senior high school age shared so much insight on what they want to change about the daily struggles that face themselves and their peers. They recognized the problems that face their generation and came up with realistic solutions to bring back to their schools. Topics ranged from LGBTQ issues, to youth poverty, personal and group identity and everything in between. What was so special about today was that the emphasis was on the voice of the youth. While teachers, student teachers and other community members were present and active in conversations, the youth lead the discussions and came up with solutions to some of the world’ biggest problems. It was truly incredible.

I think that we can all learn a lot from these (and all) kids. We need to realize that we may see their issues from our own perspectives, but we will never really understand them until we take the time to listen. These youth spoke up for what they believe in. They were given a voice and were pushed to take that voice and make change. They were taught that their opinions matter and that we, as adults, are on their side and want to help them succeed, not only academically, but also in all aspects of their lives. These youth are capable of anything, and as teachers it is our responsibility to push them to be the best that they can be.

Today reminded me of that my goal is to make sure students have the opportunity, and the self confidence to speak up, stand up and be heard.