I’ve made it snowshoeing four times this season.

FOUR!

My goal and motivation throughout what has felt like never ending physical therapy to rehabilitate my ankle has always been to be healed enough to 1. snowshoe, 2. ski, and 3. drop it like it’s hot.

Lately my slacker skills combined with a certain gentleman distraction and of course, American Idol,  have taken over my productive writing skills, but I would be very remiss if I didn’t take the time to at least share some pictures from my adventures. They are, after all, huge accomplishments for me.

Snowshoe # 1 – Scott’s Pass

AKA – Snowshoe heaven, ankle hell.

For my first venture out I traveled up Big Cottonwood Canyon. It was sunny and beautiful for most of the hike. My foot hurt like hell – especially on steep inclines and declines, but I couldn’t have been more thrilled to be up in the mountains. I had been bugging my physical therapist for weeks to clear me to go. When he finally did, I almost hugged him I was so happy!

Snowshoe #2 – Donut Falls (in the snow)

AKA – The Blue snow phenomena.

My second hike was also up Big Cottonwood Canyon. It was snowy and magical. Picturesque? Sure. But snowy and magical also increases the difficulty factor exponentially. It was of course totally worth it, but I came home afterward and crashed hard. As in dead to the world to tired to move yet alone shower. During the hike my friends and I kept marveling at pockets in the snow that reflected the most amazing shades of blue. I guess it was some sort of light phenomena caused by the weather, but it was something we had never seen quite so defined.

Snowshoe #3 – Pioneer Trail (above Little Dell Reservoir).

AKA – Too hot to handle

Hike number three took us up Parley’s Canyon. You’ll notice in the second picture that one of the members in my hiking group is only in her bra. That member was not me. It was a very sunny day (although the pictures do not seem to show it) and, well, I guess some people run hotter than others.

Snowshoe #4 – Donut Falls in the sun.

AKA – Life doesn’t get better than this.

It’s amazing just how different a trail can be depending on the wheather. Hiking this well worn trail with blue skies and the sun overhead was simply breathtaking. It was the first time my friend Tammy joined me and my snowshoeing friends. We all had a blast and when we finished we rewarded ourselves with a much deserved apres-snowshoeing beer (or three).    

I think it’s safe to say I’ve accomplished my goal of snowshoeing. I’ve even made is skiing a few times this season. I can wear (low) heels and my pain is now very minimal.

I guess all that’s left to master is dropping it like it’s hot.

Adventurously yours,

Summer

Summer Anklegate, Hiking

Today I slept in.

I feel like I have been running a marathon lately. Only it’s a marathon I have no chance of winning. I feel like everybody needs something from me and I am letting everybody down because I only have so much to give.

I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling like a failure. I’m tired of being behind. I’m tired of not being on top of things.

A few weeks ago my my body decided it had been feeling well for too long and it was time to remind me not to take it for granted. I felt the pain gradually building. The first week it was was mild, an annoyance that could easily be overcome with Ibuprofen. The second week it started hitting more intense until finally I couldn’t fake like everything was fine. I was doubled over in pain. Having lived with chronic pain for most of my adult life, feeling the pain come back so strong sent me into a panic attack which, of course, only made things worse.  How long is the pain going to last? Is it back for good? Will I need surgery…for the third time? Why is my body so broken? I can’t go through this again.

The pain was worse than normal. I knew something above and beyond my normal endometriosis had to be wrong. When I went to the doctor he told me that I had an orange inside me. I looked at him quizzically. I mean, who says that? Apparently the orange he was referring to was a huge cyst on my ovary called an endometrioma.

Good news: no surgery.

Bad news: the treatment is pain management until the pain goes away in 2-4 weeks.

I hate pain pills. I hate being dependent on them. Nothing will depress me more than watching the clock, counting down the time until I can take another pill because the pain is just that intense.

That was two weeks ago.

Today I am finally doing better in the pain department. The being behind in every other way department is another story. The worst part is, I am so mentally exhausted that I can’t seem to find the drive to make myself do things. I’m behind in two of my three college classes but instead of having a productive day getting caught up, I slept in.

I slept in and I felt good about it.

Sleep. It’s a beautiful thing.  It’s the cure for mental exhaustion. When your healthy in the head, the rest of life’s challenges seem so much more achievable.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer Bag full of complaints, Emotions get the best of me, Healthy shmelthy

Let’s face it, the consistency of my posts has flat out sucked balls lately. It’s been what? Over a month now? Sure I’ve been busy, holidays and what not, but that’s not why I’ve been absent. I guess I just needed a break. I don’t know why, it’s strange really. I love to write, I love to share my stories and I love, love, love, that people find them entertaining. In fact, I’m always slightly dumbfounded and incredibly flattered when people tell me they read my silly blog – more so when they say they enjoy it too!

So, I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. I’m ready to get back to writing. What do you say we kiss and make up? Grab some breath mints, maybe a cup of coffee, and lets catch up.

Where to start…

The holidays were actually pretty damn awesome, from what I can remember – I may or may not have been entirely sober for most of them. In November I was pretty much dreading them. You know, single for the holidays and all that jazz. But I found my happy place early on and any holiday spirits partaken were done to bring in good cheer, not to drown away sorrows. Which, come to find out, is exactly how it’s supposed to be.

Who knew?

I guess I should mention that while I was, in fact, single for the holidays, I have been hanging out with a certain gentleman caller who shall remain nameless. That is, until I figure out what to call him. Karina thinks I should call him “Prozac.” Not because he is mentally unstable, but because he seems to make me really happy.

Seriously, I smile any time I talk about him.

BUT…

I don’t want to jinx things or get overly excited (because I in no way have a track record of doing THAT), so I’ll  just leave it by saying I’m having a shit-ton of fun hanging out with a guy who continues to make me laugh harder than I have in years. It is a very grown up relationship where neither of us are rushing to define it or push it into something it is not ready to be. But at the same time, I don’t have any desire to see anyone else.

Enough about that.

I’ve been in physical therapy for a few months now and have made mad progress on my ankle*. I’ve gone snowshoeing three times and skiing once. Sure it hurt like hell, especially the first time out, but the point is I am out doing what I love! I’ve got pictures and stories to tell (look forward to or dread those to come in the next little while).  However, being the somewhat difficult person that I am, I am still not satisfied. My PT told me that I am not cleared to do high impact things, more specifically, I am not cleared to run.

Now, I am admittedly not a runner. But tell me I can’t/shouldn’t run and all of the sudden running is my life and you are denying me my vary reason for getting out of bed! I’m working on getting over it, mostly by becoming increasingly fatter. It’s my way of sticking it to the man for telling me I can’t do something, but the only thing being punished is my pants which are starting to cut off my circulation.

Lastly, I started back to school. Yep, the pursuit of higher education continues! So long social life, it was fun while it lasted! Now it’s back to working full time, going to school at night and paying for tuition instead of buying groceries and expensive face cream.

Sigh.

The sacrifices we make to have a stupid piece of paper to hang on the wall.

But enough about me, how have YOU been?

Blogfully yours,

Summer

*just in case you are new to Blogfully Yours, the Anklegate stories can all be found here.

Summer Just me

I ran away last weekend.

I threw together an impromptu trip to escape my constant search for distractions and force myself to be alone.

Alone.

Alone with my heartache, my anger, and my grief.

Having limited funds I chose to travel to southern Utah to stay at a friends parent’s vacant house.

Driving alone can be therapeutic. I set off with a full tank of gas, music cranked to full volume, and a caffeine source beside me. It didn’t take long though before the music wasn’t deafening enough. Three hours in and all of the feelings I purposely set out to feel ferociously flooded to the surface. How could he leave me? How could he walk out the door? I hate him for this. Why was I not enough? He broke me. How could he do this to me? How could we just end? I’m furious. He hurt me. I hate this. My heart hurts.

Driving 85mph with blurred vision is not safe nor something I recommend.

After a restless nights sleep I woke and took myself to breakfast. I sat alone at the bar of a diner. If you have never eaten alone, this is something I recommend. It takes some getting used to, but in an odd way it’s empowering.

Once my belly was full I headed up Snow Canyon to do some light hiking. My physical therapist had taped my ankle and told me to take it easy and be extremely cautious. I could have used any number of the paved “easy” paths, but the ranger told me the best view was from a “moderate” trail, which of course I decided to take. I’ve never been a girl to be intimidated by a trail, but one look at the loose sand, uneven lava rock and slick sandstone along the trail and you better believe I was nervous.

I hiked slow. I butt-scooted down steep areas. I had to stop every so often to look up from my shoes to admire the view. By the time I finally reached the top I sat down and before I knew it I was crying again. I couldn’t help it. I spent nine weeks on crutches. NINE! This was my first venture onto a mountain since before my accident, since before breaking my heart. Two short months ago I wasn’t able to walk and now here I was on top of a mountain. I don’t know how to describe just how meaningful the experience was except to say that it was precisely the type of healing I needed.

After gingerly making my way back down the mountain, with only one small misstep OMG I am going to die if I re-injure my foot moment, I celebrated  by treating myself to a massage and a pedicure.

The next day, for the drive home, I decided to take the long way (through Zions National Park). My attitude and my outlook was entirely opposite from the drive up. I made some resolute decisions:

I am not broken.

I am not a victim.

I will not be a bitter person.

I am not giving up on love (I am however going to use caution and not ignore red flags).

I will take my time and not feel the pressure of getting “older”.

I have a lot to offer in a relationship.

I am a good person.

(And damn it, people like me!)

In the end I realized that it just takes perseverance. Just like it took time for my foot to heal enough to hike again, it’s going to take time for my heart to heal too – but eventually it will heal. The key is not to give up. Not on my passions and not on love. So what if my happily ever after is not how I originally envisioned it. What did the teenage me know anyway? My happily ever after will be whatever I  decide it should be.

I know what I am saying is not novel or ground breaking. Some people find their resolve by reading self help books, I found mine by driving 300 miles to be alone with myself. Point being that I did in fact find it.

I feel happier and more at peace now than I have in the past six months. Life is so much better when you can see it through the lenses of an optimist.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer TMI Friday

Hello class. You will have to forgive me in advance, today’s lesson comes from a place of deep seeded anger and there is something I just need to get off my chest.

What? You don’t think teachers get angry and vent to their class? Think again.

Today’s lesson is on a little thing I like to call “environmental dating.”

Environmental Dating: the act of dating a person whom you have previously had a relationship with in an effort to avoid going out of your comfort zone to meet someone new, yet expecting a new (happier) outcome.

Synonyms include: re-dating, second chances, recycling, re-use, starting over, insanity, rerun

I will admit to being the worst offender of environmental dating. For those of you who are not long time Blogfully Your’s readers, I’ve mentioned environmental dating at least a half dozen times. Hell, that’s how my ex got his blog name of ED in the first place! We dated, broke up. Dated, broke up. Took a year break. Dated, broke up. Etc. Etc.

Learn from my mistakes people, do not date your exes!

But, but, you love him/her and they swear they have changed…

(insert rolling of eyes)

Fine.

You get one chance.

ONE.

Follow my simple environmental dating golden rule:

If at first you don’t succeed, go ahead, try again.

But, if at second you don’t succeed,

STOP! FUCKING! TRYING!

Blogfully yours,

Miss Summer

Summer Dating debating, Summer School

High-society I am not…

But that doesn’t mean I don’t like to pretend to be.

And for the most part, I pull it off too.

I mean, sure, Staci and I were the only two women in attendance of the 2010 Champagne Gala that had tattoos, but we wore those tattoos with pride.

Gotta represent the cross-culture misfit generation, yo!

I must say, high-society charity events are ex-pen-sive! To attend you must know someone who knows someone in order to even score an invite (thanks Brookie!), then you have to pay $30 plus bring a “nice” bottle of champagne which helps stock the bar (so you really don’t even get to drink the bottle you brought). That in and of itself is not so bad, but I brought my sister as my birthday gift to her so I was really paying for two. I also had to buy myself a formal gown, jewelry, and shoes. Cha-Ching!

While at the event, however, I did my best to keep up the appearance of elegance and grace.

It wasn’t until after we left the function (don’t worry mom, we took a taxi) that I kicked off my shoes and danced with the girls at our own private not-so-formal house party.

I may not be high-society, but I do know how to have a good time – formal gowns and all.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

* to see more of the pictures from the Champagne Gala and the not-so-formal after party, go HERE.

Summer Out and About

My Christmas tree is up. So are the five boxes of Christmas decorations that have been hibernating in my basement. My house is filled with about as much goddamn Christmas cheer as I can muster.

But still, even with all of the facade, it’s still a little lonely here.

I spent the morning before Thanksgiving tossing turkeys. Literally. Every year my work, along with other volunteers, help to unload three semi-trucks filled with frozen turkeys and other Thanksgiving foods. We form a human conveyor belt tossing the turkeys from the truck, up the stairs, to the sorting area, into the hands of needing families.

This picture does not even come close to doing the event justice.

But, here is a link to a write up in the local paper about the event that does it a little more justice. I know I am going to sound like a wimp, but my arms are still a little sore from all the tossing.

I spent Thanksgiving eve through Thanksgiving day with my family.  Normally my food assignment is one that does not require any cooking – like rolls or drinks – this year however, I made (with the help of my sister Staci) two caramel pecan pies.

Yummy sugary goodness! Recipe cutesy of my ex-mother in-law.

I didn’t necessarily plan to spend the night before Thanksgiving sleeping at my parents house. Outside of my mother reminding me to brush my teeth and not to snack too much before dinner because it would spoil my appetite (I’m THIRTY mother, THIRTY! I can remember to brush my teeth all on my own!), it was nice not to be alone.

Thanksgiving day was filled with glutenous amounts of food and family followed by a cross-kick to the head in the form of what I assume to be a sinus infection because of the ungodly amount of snot flowing from my nose.  This rendered me immobile for the remainder of the weekend. No Black Friday shopping for me. In fact, if it wasn’t for Karina the Russian and her two kids, I would never have gotten my tree up.

Kids make Christmas so much more fun.

We listened to kids Christmas songs which was slightly torturous for Karina and I, but hearing the kids giggling relentlessly while singing along to “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth” made it worth it. We were naughty and ate candy before dinner then watched a movie while cuddling up on the couch together and truly enjoyed just being silly together.

They are the closest things I have to children/a family of my own.

But now here I sit, my sparkly Christmas tree to my left, my Christmas village to the right and snow falling out the window directly in front of me. Part of me feels morose. Part of me is enjoying the freedom of having no responsibilities or obligations outside of the ones I chose to dictate upon myself.

Being single for the holidays is a double edge sword. It is the life I chose, but not necessarily the life I want.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer Holidays

What can I say? John and I broke up. It was the right thing to do. I really did like the idea of he and I together–he is smart, successful, organized, knows what he wants and has expensive taste–but in the end the spark was not there for me. He did nothing wrong. In fact, he did everything as right as he possibly could have.

I knew things were on the wrong track when he went out of town and I found myself miserably missing not him. Right or wrong I always compared him to my ex who I am admittedly still completely hung up on. I mean, I was going to marry the man for god sake (not that we were engaged or anything, but, you know, that was the direction we would have been on) so obviously I was crazy about him! It wasn’t fair to John. It never was from the beginning. How could he ever have a chance at getting into my heart when I never got my heart back to begin with?

Dating is a crazy messed up game, and you know it totally is a game. It’s the worst type of game too. There are all sorts of unspoken rules, manipulations, and mind games. The scores are never transparent and in the end there are rarely any winners; simply broken hearts and the longing to play the game with someone new. Or in my case, the longing to play the game with a past opponent.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer Dating debating

I haven’t stepped foot inside a church in…about forever. I was raised in the Mormon faith and for the first 18 years of my life I was very devout. I was baptized at the age of eight, I can sing along to all of the traditional primary songs, and I went to seminary throughout most of high school. However, as is the case with so many of the Latter Day Saints, once I was out on my own I started questioning things and eventually fell away from the church.

So what, pray tel, could inspire me to walk back inside the house of the lord after all these years?

One thing. This beautiful little girl.

Adorable, right?

This little cutie pie is my older sister’s daughter, Kaia. In the Mormon religion, babies are given a blessing by worthy members of the Melchizedek Priesthood within the first month of their life. While my sister is also not an active member of the LDS church, the tradition of blessing a baby goes deeper than just religion. It is a ritual that is very important to my family.

So, on that note, I put on a knee length skirt, covered up my tattoos and chewed a piece of gum to mask the coffee on my breath. Two deep breaths, a pep talk to myself in the car and I walked into the ward house with my head held high and a smile on my face.

The blessing was given by my father. It was beautiful, he is a most eloquent speaker. After concluding the blessing he raised baby Kaia up for the congregation to see which got a reverent chuckle from the crowd.

Sacrament meetings in the LDS church last an hour and twenty minutes. Words can not describe just how long that amount of time feels. But, I survived. I figure I’m now on solid terms with Jesus for another five to ten years. Or at least until the next baby blessing.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Summer Loved One(s)

Today’s lesson will be taught by your substitute teacher. Professor Dean, the self-proclaimed “dating expert,” is a colleague and drinking buddy friend of mine. Pay close attention class. No really, pay close attention or his mind blowing thought process might just go over your head.

Why Summer can’t stay single: Dean’s Law of (e)Motion

As you all know by now, Summer has pretty much jumped back into a relationship. I give her props for being able to wait a whole three months before taking this step. But why, you may ask yourself, does it require such restraint for Summer to stay out of a relationship while so many other seemingly desirable people have such trouble getting into one?

One word: physics.

I believe it was good ‘ol Isaac Newton that said an object in motion tends to stay in motion. But how does that apply to Summer? Let me explain. When someone is successfully single, they tend to stay in that groove. Sure, they’ll date someone for a little bit, but sooner or later they’ll discover this person is oh-so-wrong for them and that the relationship will never work out because of something very legitimate and super disappointing.

The long-term relationship lane is a very different one. This is because “lovers lane” is full of people that have been in relationships for so long, that making the adjustments necessary to make a relationship work has become part of who they are. When you put two of those people together–providing there’s adequate interest on each side–it’s nearly impossible for nature to not run its course. That’s not to say that the serial monogamists aren’t picky–they every bit as picky as their serially single friends. But, they’re so accustomed to being in the world of couples–with their couply friends, and their practical vehicles and their formerly-shared furniture–that they find it’s just easier to stay in it…even if they’re in it by themselves for a little while.

So, how does a single person get into this clingy club? The easiest way is to find a recently-single serial monogamist and hold on for the ride.

Just like John is trying to do.

~ Prof. Dean

Summer Summer School