Hectic Schedule v. Healthy Eating – An Eternal Battle

For some strange reason, I wore the jeans that are now that tightest on me to my office job prior to my class last week. I don’t know what happened; I had splurged and bought three pairs of jeans back in November, just after starting classes. Shortly after, the office I work at implemented a “dress for your day” policy, meaning no more business casual Tuesday-Thursday with “Jean Day” on Monday. That’s right, we can wear jeans alllll week long if we want to – as long as it makes us more comfortable and thus, better employees. That was perfect for me, since I hadn’t worked anywhere that required business casual for years. This way, I didn’t have to spend a ton of money on business casual clothing if I didn’t want to.

 

Anyway, I rarely plan my outfits at the start of the week. I used to, even in college and especially during my two tours at WEYI with my internship. Lately, I haven’t really cared enough – or had a job that I cared enough about anyway – to do that. All I really knew for last week was that I was going to a college hockey game after work on Friday, so I either had to wear the same thing to both the game and the office or bring a change of clothes for after 5:00. Seriously, that’s as far as my planning went last week. So the morning of the 3rd, I threw on a pink top (obviously, it was Wednesday) and a pair of jeans. As soon as I got in my car, I regretted my choice. It was 48 degrees when I set off for work, so the fact that I didn’t have my wool winter coat to hide my stomach was a slap to the face. I felt gross, like I should be slinging tires.

Me, walking in to work.

As much as I wanted to cry and pout and skip lunch, dinner and breakfast for the rest of the week after sitting down in my car, I instead took it as a challenge. First of all, the jeans I wore were not what I wanted when I made the purchase. They were one size smaller than I wanted, but in the past, this particular brand had loosened up a bit over time. I wanted to buy them for the same reason a lot of women buy certain sizes: eventually, I’ll fit into this size. I just have to work for it. These are my motivation clothes.

 

One of my biggest motivations is that I have a few trips planned for 2016: nearly a week-long solo trip to the west side of the state, a week in the Upper Peninsula with my mom and hopefully a trip to California in late fall/early winter followed by a trip to Myrtle Beach to visit my Carolina friends. Most of these trips will call for a good amount of beach time, especially the California one. Most people get in to a workout/diet plan when Spring Break starts to sneak up on them. I’m thinking long-term, not a 21-day or even 60-day plan. The reason I got in to kickboxing and not juices or wraps or pills is because I wanted to work for my results. I desired to walk out of the room or the gym with sweat dripping, because I had never experienced it before.

 

We’ve all seen the girls with their mirror selfies at the gym posted on Instagram. Some are annoying and repetitive while others can be motivating and inspiring.

 

There’s been a lot of talk lately about how social media is hurting the self-esteem of young women. There’s so much comparison and judging and anymore, we don’t even realize we’re doing it – it’s almost second nature. I am a social media junkie – as mentioned in the title of this blog – but I know that you cannot focus on it so much that it consumes your life. Again, I chose to take something that could normally be a negative and turn it into a positive by looking at it as a way to motivate myself. No, I don’t print out the pictures from Instagram or Twitter, tape them to my wall and push myself to exhaustion on the treadmill. Instead, I keep a mental note of what I want my legs to look like versus how delicious that McDonald’s breakfast really sounds.

 

All of this went through my mind walking up to my bag on Wednesday. Pictures of myself happy and healthy flashed through my mind and motivated me. For those 60 minutes, I’m totally fine. I have focus and motivation. But the 60 minutes I spend driving home, I’m hungry and tired. It’s late and not many places are still open along the 40-mile stretch between the gym and my home. I know I have a healthy(ish) meal waiting in my kitchen for me, but my growling stomach controls the drive back home.

Trying to balance a hectic schedule, picky palate and healthy eating habits – Wizardry, I’m sure of it.

This is when I need to be proactive and plan ahead, as my kickboxing trainer highly suggested. Bringing a post-work out meal, or even just a snack, for the drive home after class is key to me staying on track. It takes planning, commitment and maybe even a little creativity. Between the drive home after classes, fighting the temptation of a drive-thru and the struggle to find something to eat while working hockey games on the weekend, especially after working 8-5 at the office on Fridays, finding the right balance of nutrition is difficult. Add to it that I’m a picky eater and have the palate of a 5-year old and it’s a recipe for disaster.

 

Flashback to the summer of 2015: I was unemployed – but don’t get me wrong, I actually feel as though I escaped a horrible situation as the job I held over the winter and peeking in to summer was both mentally and emotionally damaging. I spent a lot of my time looking for jobs online, sending in applications via the Internet or U.S. Mail or even in-person. It got daunting and eventually, I needed a break. I took to cooking, mostly because I was hungry. I found a lot of new recipes to try and leaned toward the healthier of the choices. I’ll get in to that more with a later post.

 

My point is that I was becoming really good in the kitchen. I love being creative when it comes to new recipes and ingredients I normally wouldn’t try. I truly feel that this will benefit me in the long run. Not only will I add some healthier options to my diet, but I’ll up my trophy wife points a bit.

After my last kickboxing class, I spent the drive home thinking about ways I could carry over my workout to my house. The days I can’t make it to the gym or a class, I can make up for it with at-home workouts. Before going home, I stopped to buy a food processor and some free weights. Obviously, I don’t have a Hydrocore bag at home, but I can do the ab workout circuit that our kickboxing trainer puts us through on the days I’m not at the gym. While I generally use the ab-work the trainer has us to as motivation to hit the bag even harder when we get up off the floor, I know how important it is to my overall core workout.

Additionally, I know that running will help shape my legs – the area I’m working on in addition to my core. I’ve never been a good runner. I’m part of Team “Don’t Put Me Down For Cardio” actually. I know that one cannot simply start running 3-5 miles a day, so I’m planning to start out slow. Hopefully by summer, I’ll be able to run a few miles without any hesitation.

I don’t plan on running any marathons anytime soon – probably not even a half marathon. But I do plan on improving my overall health to the point where I’m happier and living a better life. Maybe it will even help me mentally. I’ve been struggling to find something consistent in my life and maybe this could be it.

 

Anyway, keep it locked in to see how this week goes!

 

This is kickboxing, not Zumba.

Last week was my first class with new gloves. I was antsy all day before my 7:00 p.m. class in anticipation of breaking them in. I practiced wrapping my hands by watching the video posted on the gym’s website and thought I had it down.

 

Once again, I got there early in order to change and grab my bag of choice. Once again, a hefty number of newbies were attending this class as well. Thankfully, the girls that spent the majority of our warm-up time last week blinding the rest of us with flashes from their selfies were nowhere to be found.

I felt my confidence jump a bit after this class. I definitely miss the way my MMA style gloves gave me the ability to grab my water quickly or fix my headband. However, I felt that I hit harder and followed through with my hits more with the boxing style gloves. Normally, I get a cramp right around my left latissimus dorsi. Because of this, I try to drink water as much as I can during the class and this night was difficult due to my new gloves. Luckily, my best friend (and roommate in Pennsylvania) is a massage therapist and all I have to do is text her with where I hurt and she’ll tell me what to do.

 

My new gloves gave me something else to focus on during class. Like I said in my last post, I usually have to consciously find something to focus on during classes. However, I was a bit distracted with a handful of new attendees in the back of the class. Once again, there were a number of people new to the class that needed their hands wrapped, which in turn pushed our start time back. No one was really upset about it because we usually get our full 60 minutes in no matter what. This night, the biggest problem I faced was definitely being distracted with their inability to pay attention and participate. There were three attendees straight up dancing in the class – bopping around and not even attempting to do the moves our trainer so graciously went over before really expecting anything. Don’t get me wrong, our playlist is great and it keeps you moving, but we rarely dance when the music is playing. In fact, I don’t remember anyone dancing at all before this night. The boxing shuffle does not equal dancing. Sorry, it just doesn’t. I actually turned on an angle to my bag so that I didn’t have the dancing ladies in my peripheral vision.

 

One of the great things about the gym I go to for my classes is that the first class is absolutely free, no strings attached. That’s probably why a lot of people that are intimidated by their first class don’t feel as bad about not coming back. The class was definitely different than what I had anticipated walking in back in November, but I stuck with it. Sure, it’s not for everyone, but at the very least, let’s try to be respectful of the trainer and the other participants and not goof off and dance instead of the actual workout itself.

Boxing gloves

I keep thinking back to my first day of class and how I was intimidated and lost at first, so I try not to get too out of control with my “WTF?!” thoughts when newer people show up in class. Looking back, I think it’s because I’m finally feeling confident in myself and this decision I’ve made to stick with it.

 

Confidence is key

Last week’s kickboxing class was an odd one. For starters, we had a LOT of new people. I know that I mentioned previously that the facility saw an influx of “resolutioners” as many call them. Those have indeed dropped off as the manager suggested they would. While I was expecting them to drop off around March, she said by February and it actually happened in mid-January. Or maybe they found a different time slot that works better for them. Either way, I know I have room to hit my bag and get down on the ground for abdominal work so I’m happy and hope they are too – doing… whatever.

 

The worst part about this last class was how many people were late. I’m notoriously late for almost everything. I know that I’ll be late for my own wedding – more than the 45 minutes my girl Lacee was for her wedding this past August but it was fine because she was a total bombshell walking down the aisle. My friends usually tell me to meet them at 4:00, even if we’re not going anywhere until 6:00 because I’ll probably show up around 5:30. I’m working on it, okay?

However, when it comes to the classes I pay for, I make sure I’m there on time. One of the reasons I chose the timeslot I did is because it gives me ample time to leave work, drive to the gym, change, stretch, etc. Nearly half of the attendees for this class were late, getting to their bags well after the warm-up song had started. With the gloves I use, I don’t use hand wraps, so I can put them on pretty quickly. So many of the attendees shuffled in to the class with no wraps on, wasting nearly three sequences just putting their wraps and gloves on. I was in the back – so I can stretch out for planks and abs without kicking anyone else in the face – but I could tell the trainer and some regulars were just as irritated as I was.
Not only were a lot of “new” girls late, but some were downright disrespectful once in the room. The room is black-lit in order to make it more cool and concentrated. Normally, the brightest lights you see are the neon tops and shoes the other girls are wearing. Not this time. Flashbulbs everywhere. At least eight selfies were taken before a couple of girls started taking “Rocky” style pictures/snaps of each other. Seriously? Why are you even here? This is not time for a photoshoot. (Insert epic eye roll) Don’t get me wrong, I’ll “check in” to the gym on social media every now and then if I have something additional to say. Sometimes I’ll even send a Snapchat from my car as I’m about to drive home (obviously not while driving), to friends letting them know I survived. But never have I – nor will I ever – take a selfie in the class with everyone else around me. And this coming from someone that normally loves selfies (yes, I have a selfie stick. Yes, it is pink.)

Because we had so many new people in this class, the trainer went over the three moves we do the most – something I actually had to learn on my own, by watching others around me. I know it took me about three rotations to really get the moves down, but some of the girls were just standing there, doing nothing at all. I don’t know if they were expecting one-on-one training or what, but it was annoying. I do walk-in classes – paying each time I attend and booking the class online, but these girls were buying $100 memberships, so I’m assuming they took it somewhat seriously. Or maybe they throw out Benjamins like nobody’s business. It is Birmingham….

 

It took me a minute to sit back and remember how I was a few months ago when I had my first class. Was I like this? Did I stand there, aloof and looking around? I remember being nervous yet confident. I was so proud of myself for taking the plunge and going to a brand new gym, knowing absolutely no one. It’s such a vulnerable position to be in. On top of that, nearly everyone in the class was already in amazing shape. Again, why are you here? You’re done.

 

This class is the first “fitness class” that gave me confidence in myself. The “championship” or “freestyle” round near the end of the 60 minutes is where I feel the most confident in myself. Two weeks in a row, the trainer has come up to my bag during those three minutes and said that I’m hitting the bag like I’m super pissed. That’s actually encouraging to me, so I appreciate it. I’m the first to admit it: I suck at the ab work the trainer has us do each and every class. I’m so horrible at it. I look like a turtle stuck on its back when we’re doing bicycle kicks – one of the reasons I stick to the back. My legs are so long, toe-touches have my hands tapping my shins rather than my toes. After all that, I’ve yet to quit a class since the very first class I took. I’ve also yet to throw up.

 

At the end of last week’s class, I took another plunge by buying new gloves. I’ve been using MMA-style “cardio kickboxing” gloves so far and they’ve worked out pretty well. Now that I’m confident in the punches, I’m ready for the added weight that actual boxing gloves provide. I know it’s not a quick process but since I’m actually happy doing it – unlike so many other workout regimens I’ve attempted – I’m confident that I can succeed at this. Overall, I ended the last class with a higher sense of confidence than I imagined having. I could tell I was comfortable with the moves we were doing, even if I’m not a pro at them just yet. I’m hoping once my raise kicks in, I’ll be able to take on an additional class each week.

 

I’m also super nervous to start the nutrition course our trainer is starting next month. I’ll post about that later, once it actually starts, if I take that plunge.

 

For the next post, I should have a pretty good update about how the new equipment is working out for me. So stay tuned.

 

A Tale of Two Struggles

Last night, I had a kickboxing class and for those 60 minutes, I have time to clear my head and concentrate on nothing but that bag. But last night, a lot of things were running through my mind. In fact, my mind had been racing all day yesterday. Some of the things on my flooded mind were positive and others were negative. As I drove home (through a whiteout no less), I narrowed it down to two primary things: results and motivation. It was almost three, as I wanted to add focus to the mix. But then I looked back on the class I had just left and felt that I had been very focused. That’s actually what brought me to motivation. My focus was my motivation and my motivation as my focus. They were one in the same. If I wanted to see the results I was motivated toward, I had to focus. It was that simple.

 

Prior to yesterday’s class, I felt that I had been seeing no results and maybe even moving backwards. Several clothing items I bought right around the time I started classes were now fitting tighter rather than looser. Looking at myself in the mirror was still unsatisfying. While in the locker room changing, I was so mad at myself for the lack of results. I had promised myself that I would do this the natural way: no pills, no wraps, no gimmicks – just diet and exercise.

 

After our class, the trainer mentioned he was starting a new nutrition guidance course online. Eating is something I’d always struggled with. I’m a stress-eater and while I can be completely organized with damn near everything else, I can’t meal plan/prep to save my life. When talking with the trainer, I mentioned that I eat like a 5-year old. I am far too much of a picky eater for my age, but I am trying – good lord am I trying. But I cannot bring myself to eat sweet potatoes and avocados (kudos to those of you that can). I’m trying to be diligent in what I eat, cutting out a lot of the “easy” things I can get my hands on and actually stomach.

 

I’m also fighting a hectic schedule. So far this week, it has taken me two hours each night to get home from work. That’s a drive that is normally an hour, maybe an hour and a half with heavy Pistons traffic. That means I’m getting home at nearly 8:00 pm and have just a couple of hours to wind down, eat dinner, shower, etc. Last night, I didn’t get home until after 10:00 pm. I grabbed dinner off the stove, sat with my mom to watch the premier of one of our favorite shows and jumped in the shower so that I could attempt to be asleep by midnight. I’m getting about 6 hours of sleep each night and would smack the hat off the Pope for two more.

 

On the weekends when I’m at my part-time job, I’m either eating from the concession stand or eating at the bar after the game or from a fast food place on the way home. None of those being healthy choices by far. My trainer suggested bringing in pre-prepped meals to eat during the game (like I could ever get away with that). However, I think the whole idea of meal prepping scares me. That being said, I already have the food processor and food storage set on my shopping list.

 

He mentioned what I already thought was true and that what I do outside of the gym is oftentimes more important than what I do inside the gym. I sit at a desk nearly 8 hours a day (actually, I currently am. Look at that…) and then anywhere from 2-3 in my car on the drive to and from the office. Add the driving to and from the second job and I’m basically sitting more than anything else each and every day. That’s why I need to find a way to get up and move around a decent amount each day – and no, walking to and from my car does not count.

 

If I work hard on all the things previously mentioned, I should will start seeing results.

 

 

Next city: Motivation.

 

I had a lot of motivation when I signed up for this class. You know how people have “vision boards” with Jeeps and diamonds and mansions and private jets to Europe? Well, mine is in my head. It changes so often, I don’t have enough tape and glue to make a real board. It is hard for me to put in to words exactly what my motivation is.

The good thing is that I’m doing this for myself. I don’t have a boyfriend or fiancé to look good for. I’m not doing it to make any ex-boyfriends jealous. I’m not doing it to see any particular number on the scale. I simply want to be happy when I look in the mirror and try on clothes. I’m tired of buying clothes in XL or double digits. I’m trying to avoid the heart problems that tend to run in my family. I want to make sure that I’m healthy and fit for the next 30 years. I want to feel confident wearing running shorts and a sports bra in the summer or hell, even just a bikini! It’s been a while since I felt truly confident for a lengthy amount of time, rather than just here and there.

 

Do I find inspiration on Instagram and Twitter? Of course. That’s the world we live in. I can’t say for certain how looking for inspiration on social media impacts everyone else, but for me it’s all about “if she can do it, so can I” mentality. I’m not afraid to ask the women that inspire me what they do for workouts. How will you know if you don’t ask? I’ve never been told that they can’t tell me their workout regimen (weights, spin class, stair-stepper, barre?) or that it will cost me $99.95 to find out – not yet anyway. So why not just ask?

Other girls have to work harder to answer world history trivia or understand what’s going on in a hockey game. To each their own, you know?

Obviously some things are harder for me to accomplish than they are for other women, but that doesn’t deter me. So I have to work harder – so what? Other girls have to work harder to answer world history trivia or understand what’s going on in a hockey game. To each their own, you know?

I had some time to kill between work and class yesterday, so I went to Rite Aid to grab some new hair ties to keep in my bag. I was tired of being “that girl” in class that kept trying to fix her hair instead of doing planks. While sitting in traffic at Maple and Coolidge, I saw a guy running. On a snow-covered sidewalk. That probably had ice all over it. In 20-degree weather. What? I wanna be that committed, but I barely want to get out of bed in the winter let alone put on running attire and go run 3-5 miles in subfreezing temperatures.

 

Now, I love walking with my dog, especially at night. It’s our time to be together without his sister and socialize with people and other dogs on the trails and sidewalks in our town. But as a Dorgi (that’s a Dachshund/Corgi mix), he has little legs and can’t keep up a brisk pace. He takes little strides while at damn near 5′ 10″, I take quite long strides. Bless his heart, he is always trying to keep up with his Mama though. In the winter, he hates outdoor life. Unless I’m out there playing with him in the snow, he despises being outside. While I’ve thought about taking him out for a walk when I get home, it’s usually so late and dark, that I tend to think the hassle isn’t exactly worth it in the end. Come spring, I’m hoping that we can get back out there and I’ll have better cardio health to get us going for a few miles each day. I’m working on building endurance for both of us and it is going to be a long process.

In addition to my kickboxing class that I love, I’m also looking for an affordable spin class in the area and into becoming a semi-decent runner. I figure if I start now, in January, by spring and summer I’ll be doing alright.

What I learned the most from my class yesterday and the conversation had with the trainer after was that planning/prepping is everything. If I have a 6-9 month plan to reach physical goals rather than a 6-9 week plan, I’ll see better results and be more motivated.

 

It was during our “championship/freestyle round” – three minutes where the trainer blasts OutKast and we can do any combination(s) we want as long as we don’t stop for those three minutes – last night that I got the idea for this blog. I knew I had to re-evaluate my goals and motivation in order to understand that results are not instantaneous. It’s called a WORKout for a reason: you have to work for it.

 

RIP 2015!

While I’m on my lunch break, I scroll through my iPhone and soak in as much as I can for 30 minutes before I’m back to the lifeless glow of two monitors. Today, I was quickly greeted with a lot of posts reminiscing about 2015. While I know some people get annoyed by the flood of them, I  actually love to see them. I think it’s a great way to see how people have grown and changed.

 

Naturally, I started to think about my own. It was clear to me early this morning as I scrolled through TimeHop and saw a picture I had posted of my last NYE. It was spent in Sarnia, ON with my friend Alicia. What we thought was going to be an inexpensive, hockey-filled weekend turned sour when we realized they don’t quite celebrate the same way we do over here in the mitten.

 

I remember sitting in our hotel room, talking with Lici, holding back tears while talking about how much of a rollercoaster 2014 had been. I knew I didn’t want to spend a minute of 2015 feeling any of that pain and disappointment. I had been at my job for about two months and was finally not completely struggling financially. It was nowhere near my dream job, but it was paying my bills while I continued to search and luckily, I had nothing keeping me there. Within weeks, I knew that I had to get out. It was the final straw. I was so unappreciated and disrespected by my employers and some co-workers, all for far less than $10.00/hour. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy (okay, maybe on a few people…).

 

I look at my wall calendar and I see a lot of dark moments. Most of spring and damn near all of summer, I was depressed. I had been knocked down before and always got right back up. But this time, for some reason, was different. Maybe it’s because I had to celebrate my birthday during all of this and to me, there wasn’t much to celebrate. My grandmother put it perfectly, saying that because my birthday in 2014 was spent alone (I was living in Pennsylvania at the time with no roommate), my birthday in 2015 was essentially a do-over. It didn’t mean I had to be happy though.

 

Luckily, my friends are absolutely amazing and did whatever I wanted for my birthday – until we found out the place I wanted to go had a $20.00 cover. I was perfectly content eating a cannoli at Astoria Bakery while dressed to impress. At least I know my night wasn’t nearly as bad as that poor bachelorette barfing in the trash can on the corner of Monroe Ave and St. Antoine St. while her friends took pictures and others laughed. The night was so much fun that six months later, we’re still wondering if Marshawn is okay.

 

So while I’m in the break room of the office I currently work at, I started thinking. Once again, I’m not at my dream job, but I’m not broke or on government assistance, so I can’t complain. Do I hope that 2016 is more prosperous and healthy? Of course. I’m pretty proud of myself for already having a jumpstart on the later. Before now, I never realized what people were talking about when they said they were annoyed by all the “resolutioners” flooding their gym. Now, I’m dreading it. Luckily, I book my classes online well in advance and get to the facility in plenty of time to get my spot at a bag.

 

Last night, I went out to dinner with some friends from high school. The timing could not have been more perfect. Brittany was up from Florida for her little brother’s wedding (I still cannot believe he’s old enough to get married, but whatever..) and wanted to meet up with everyone she hadn’t seen in years. Her and I hadn’t been together since we were 19, but now she’s married with two little babes. SO much to catch up on.
We all met at my favorite Mexican restaurant and ended up closing the place down because we just kept talking and talking. It was great, until I realized all four girls around me had diamond rings and we were suddenly talking about husbands and potty training and PTA meetings. What just happened? Don’t get me wrong, all four ladies are amazing mothers and it was great to see girls I knew in high school as loving mothers. While they laughed about bathroom mishaps over cherry cola, I ordered a third margarita.

 

The funny thing is, I was happy with that. Not one of those four girls thought less of me for being husband-less or child-less. They were happy, I’m happy. It’s all good.

 

I see more changes for myself than ever before on the horizon for 2016. They’re both frightening and encouraging. But isn’t that the best feeling? I’m an extremely organized person and my Lilly Pulitzer planner is already getting filled with all the milestones and things I want to accomplish from now until December 2016.

 

I would not be in this position if not for my amazing mother, grandmother and friends. So many of my friends have become my family over the last 24 months. I’ve made a lot of friends this year and lost a few that apparently, weren’t really friends. That’s okay. Things happen and usually it’s for the better. You learn and you grow, all while moving forward.

 

I want to travel . I want to be my healthiest . I want to be my happiest.

 

So RIP 2015. You were disappointing at times and fun at times. I won’t miss you, but I will remember you.

 

A new journey

I’ve struggled with this topic for a few weeks now. On one hand, I feel that the blogosphere is over saturated with inspirational workout blogs. On the other hand, this journey that I’m on has taken a new turn that I’m very excited about and I hope that by sharing my story, it not only keeps me on track but provides updates to others, should anyone care.

 

As previously mentioned, two major life events (one a bit more major than the other, I suppose) occurred in late 2014 and early 2015. The first put me in a severe depression. It didn’t help that I was incredibly alone in a different state from all of my family and friends. The move back to Michigan came with a lot of baggage, both emotional and physical. It took a few months, but I was able to find a job that would at least get me through the holidays and provide me with (somewhat of) an income while I continued to look for a position in my desired field.

I had no idea that this new position would belittle me emotionally and cause a plethora of unhealthy choices to occur, all in order to cope. I was working open to close, often times without a lunch break – which is not only highly unprofessional, but illegal in the state of Michigan. I rarely got the chance to eat healthy, usually eating on the go. I would have to depend on fast food for breakfast or dinner, with a pizza delivery thrown in for lunch – if I was lucky enough to have a lunch. Add in the emotional eating I was doing in order to deal with the atmosphere I was working in. When I was finally able to escape from that hellhole (I mean, that’s as nice as I can put it, really), I felt free yet trapped at the same time. I was so upset about where I was, yet so happy to not be there. I spent hours on my laptop, looking for right position for me. However, when I’m upset, I eat. The unemployment phase helped me to hone my culinary skills, but at the same time, I was gaining weight at a quick pace.

 

You see, before leaving Michigan, I had a pretty decent gym membership. The facility was nice and convenient, but had some characters that would act almost like werewolves after hours: letting in randos to shower in the locker room with no staff members on site to manage the safety of members. I kept my membership when I moved simply because the new town I’d be in had a location. When things went downhill in that town, I cancelled my membership at the new location. While I thought everything was taken care of, I came home to a collection notice for three months of unpaid gym dues. Miscommunication within a company was costing me over $300? No thanks. Be a professional and don’t punish customers – now thankfully ex-customers – because employees within your company are incompetent.

 

This issue with my former gym led me to tread lightly when finding a new place recently. My new job has me sitting for at least 6 out of the 8 hours I’m in the office. I strive to find any reason to get up and move from my desk, not because of my mild ADD, but because I simply don’t feel active enough staring at my two computer monitors. This office is BIG on instant communication via email, an internal instant messaging system and phone. I’m always looking for ways to get up and walk to a co-worker to ask a question in-person, or grab another cup of coffee or refill my water bottle – even sending documents to the furthest printer available instead of the one two desks away.

It became obvious that I needed to find a way for me to get a solid workout in with my crazy work schedule. During my daily drive, I pass by a number of gyms or billboards for gyms. None of these that I checked in to really fit what I was trying to do. I ended up researching different workouts for what results I was looking to get within my hectic schedule.

I found a gym that was close to work, affordable and catered to both newbies and those looking to become legit boxers.

Luckily, I found a workout that I knew I could do yet would still challenge me: kickboxing. After asking some friends for suggestions, I found a gym that was close to work, affordable and catered to both newbies and those looking to become legit boxers. I did a lot of research on the facility, classes and trainers, ultimately attending my first two classes this past week. Why did I wait so long after taking a job down here? Well, I can tell you that it came down to one night… Stick with me.

I have a friend that asked me to go to some Pistons games this season. Being a massive fan of both sports and Detroit, I said hell yeah. While driving home from work one night, I passed The Palace and realized I had no Pistons attire other than two jerseys of players no longer with the team. On a whim, I stopped at a store specializing in Detroit sports attire. I found the perfect top to have on hand (I mean, I needed it anyway…) and went to try it on. For years, I can tell you I’ve been buying tops in XL 80% of the time. I always lied to myself and said I needed an XL because of my chest (psh, yeah right!). Yes, “XL” is just two letters, but it’s two letters than can determine where you shop. How often do you find anything at VS Pink in XL? So, I grabbed this tank top and went in to the fitting room. I turned around to the mirror and instantly wanted to cry. It was so tight and just didn’t look right on me. What on earth had happened? Since when doesn’t this size fit me at all?!
I bought it anyway, because I was determined to get smaller and make this top look amazing on me. I will rock this top confidently. It was that night that I told my mom I was signing up for my first couple of classes. The next day at work, I hoped online and signed up for classes on Monday and Wednesday of the following week. No going back now, unless I didn’t want my money back.

So, I would like to share my experience from the first two classes…

 

Woman kicking punching bag (not me). | Getty Images

Class #1: Monday, November 9^th

I had psyched myself up so much for this class. I had a feeling that the trainer would be intense. I felt so out of place though… It’s human nature to look around you and take in your surroundings. I knew that I had the right attire, I knew that I had the motivation. Luckily, the first class is free for new clients. Like, everything is free. EVERYTHING. The class, the hand wraps, the glove rental – all at no cost.

When handed my gloves, I was met with another trainer – not the instructor for my class – and he offered to wrap my hands. It was painfully obvious that I was new there. I told him that I was really nervous about the class, but he said that just being there was a huge step.

I walked in to the black-lit room that was dense with boxing bags and students stretching. I timidly took one of the very first bags I saw, near the back corner by the door. I figured it would make for an easy escape should I not be able to hang…

As class started, the upbeat tempo had us moving right from the gate. I suddenly realized why boxers are constantly moving. The trainer was great. He kept the pace moving fast and following his direction was easy. The girl next to me was super helpful. She told me to turn my hips, but when I couldn’t’ hear her over the music, grabbed my waist and turned me so that I was facing away from the bag. She asked if this was my first class, I asked her if it was that obvious… She said that so far, I was doing great for a rookie.

I saw a handful of girls struggling and wondered if they too were new or if they were just taking it easy. The worst part of the session was away from the bag, getting down on the floor for mountain climbers and more ab work. The class was so packed, I quickly realized that if I were to get into push-up position, I would be kicked in the face by the girl in front of me.

Throughout this class, I had three to five moments where I wanted to give up. I knew that I could hit the bag and kick my leg up, so it wasn’t a physical block, but rather a mental one. I kept pushing through because I didn’t want to quit. This class was only supposed to last an hour! I knew I could last 60 minutes – I would normally be at my old gym for up to two hours!

Once I saw the level of ab work that we would be doing, I had to give in. I grabbed my water bottle and walked out, barely able to see through my bangs that were stuck to my face, dripping in sweat. The girl working the check-in counter asked me how I did and I immediately responded by asking her what time it was. She told me I had lasted almost 50 minutes and that most girls give up after 25 or 30 in their first class. That made me feel amazing! I lasted almost all of my very first class – in a workout that was much more intense than any training I’ve ever done. I confirmed my next class, grabbed my bag and walked out to the crisp 46 degree weather to my car for my hour-long drive home.

I felt exhausted, which was expected. I texted a few of my friends to tell them that I survived, but if I didn’t text them a little over an hour later, I was in trouble. Obviously, I made it home, but my friends were proud of me which made me feel amazing. When I got home, I saw that the Amazon Fairy had delivered the kickboxing gloves I ordered with a birthday gift card (thanks, Joscelyn!). The gloves we used in class were actual boxing gloves (mine were 12 lbs. each), but the ones I ordered were fingerless mesh gloves. I packed them in my bag to bring to the next class.

 

Class #2: Wednesday, November 11^th

I chose a later class for this day. I had experienced a class with the first trainer and knew his style. Now I wanted to see what the other trainer that held classes after work had to offer. I knew that I wanted to see which trainer fit me best before booking additional classes. When I walked in, the girl at the check-in counter introduced herself as the manager that had been emailing me for the past few weeks. I asked if my gloves would work for that class and she confirmed that they would. I chose to go with those – since I had already paid for them, there was no reason to rent their gloves for $2 and buy a hand wrap for $5. I changed out of my work clothes and into kickboxing attire, placing my purse and bag in the holding area. While I put my gloves on, a girl came up to me and said that she was the one next to me in Monday’s class. She said that I did an amazing job for my first class and it was impressive that I came back for more. Both she and the girl at the counter mentioned that tonight’s class was going to be a bit slower paced, which can be both good and bad. I noticed that not many people were waiting for class to start, which to me was a great sign. That meant that I could get a prime spot in the room and make sure that I would have plenty of room on the floor.

When the previous class ended, the instructor from Monday’s class walked out. He noted that I was back, so he must not have scared me too much. He also noted that not many students returned after their first class so quickly. All of this made me feel extremely good about the choices I had made.

The warm up for this was a lot more in line with my pace. I felt comfortable with the punches he had us doing and the rhythm of the class. With it being a smaller class, the instructor was able to go around to each participant and hold our bags for a moment for some extra resistance.

Of course, we had to get down on the floor for some core work (hands-down, my least favorite). While I’m not nearly as flexible as I used to be, and I’m pretty sure it was noticeable, I tried. There were core workouts that I had never done before, which made me try harder. The moves he had us doing were ones that I felt comfortable with. I loved the combinations we were doing.

However, my favorite part of this class was the 3-minute “freestyle” where we got to do any combination of hits and kicks that we wanted to, we just couldn’t stop for the full three minutes. “Picture the face of someone you’re angry with on those bags!” was shouted out as Outkast blasted through the speakers. I absolutely loved this part. It gave me a chance to feel extra comfortable with the combinations I had learned in the two classes so far.

When class was over, the girl in front of me asked how I did. I replied that I was still there and that meant I survived. I walked out and the girl at the counter asked how I felt after my first full class. I told her how I loved it and inquired about certain classes and trainers.
As of this post, I haven’t yet decided on the combination of classes I’m going to take. Part of me wants to go with just one day a week to build up my endurance, then add the second class once I feel absolutely comfortable. Another part of me is wondering how much impact just one class per week will have and if it will be enough. The day that I can get down to a single digit in my jeans size or not have to buy an XL in anything, you will hear trumpets celebrating the occasion.

For all of those that say “Well, it’s not just working out, you know – you need a healthy diet, too” I see you. As I mentioned, I eat when I’m upset. I’m also the pickiest eater I know. Trying to balance these two without eating pizza for each course (which I can totally do, don’t make me prove it), has been a struggle. However, I consciously make decisions in my eating habits so that they do not get out of control. Meal prep just does not work for me – at least it hasn’t yet. I’ve cut down on my coffee intake, both in the number of cups I drink and the sugar & creamer I use. I drink pop only on game days when I’m at the mercy of the concession stands but often times opt for a Gatorade instead of a Mt. Dew. While at work, I drink water. I’m working on it, okay? So can we not with the diet comments?

The fact that I’m bettering myself is enough to keep me motivated. I don’t plan on this blog being something to influence and inspire others. If it does, that’s great. I’m not trying to dish out health advice, I’m just documenting my journey. If you want to tag along, that’s great. The comments and motivation would be incredibly helpful.

 

If you’re looking for more motivation – since I am not the one to claim you should follow me for that reason – I highly suggest you follow Erin Glaros. Her website is incredibly motivating! She posts recipes, workouts and more. She also offers meal prep, fitness coaching and nutrition planning.

 

Also, all the pictures in this post are from Getty Images, they’re totally not me. I hope to be in that good of shape a year from now though!

 

Reasons to be happy about change and moving forward

I swear, I feel like a broken record – but that’s kind of just how life has been lately. I have (technically) three jobs, which is crazy. Often times, the jobs become repetitive. In some cases, that’s totally fine. Other times, I just want to scream at the top of my lungs for change.

Like I stated in a previous post, the past year was a struggle. I was struggling to adjust in my return to Michigan. It was difficult and I still carry some small baggage from my job at the salon and the spring/summer following my sentence there. It doesn’t go away overnight, or even within a few months. To me, that’s actually a positive sign. If it went away quickly, it would mean that it wasn’t worth the time I put in to it. Looking back, the fact that It took so much out of me and so much time to recover means that it wasn’t all in my head.

In my new(ish) 8-5 job, I am surrounded by people that are supportive and often shocked that I have taken on so much. They call me ambitious, energetic and adventurous. Those are all very commendable in terms of adjectives used to describe me but sometimes it can also be a lot to live up to. It certainly helps that the pay is great at the new job, but I always feel like I can move forward and upward.

While I have two additional jobs (one paying, one not) that keep me active in the industry that I love, but is still highly competitive, I am so thankful that I can balance it all with a social life, mainly that my friends are so understanding. They recognize that I’m doing anything and everything to be happy. Eventually, some things will give and others will take their place. That’s life. Get used to it.

Overall, I’m much happier now than I was on November 12, 2014. In terms of appearance, I’m taking much better care of myself than I was back in April, May and even June of this year – I have a great brow stylist, hairstylist and colorist and an amazing massage therapist. My fitness is on a much higher level thanks to a new kickboxing trainer out of Birmingham (more on that in a later post) and I’m hunting for the perfect apartment/condo/house in Oakland County. Call it superficial if you want, but it’s making me happier and that’s all that matters.

I’m so excited to be on this journey. Six months ago, I was incredibly depressed and struggling to find answers and guidance. Now, I’m looking forward to time with friends and road trips to Toronto, Chicago and more. I’m excited for the things to come in 2016 and those that will be wrapping up 2015.

By now, I’m sure you’ve noticed that this blog is no longer strictly about hockey or other sports, but more of a diary of how things have been going while trying to reach my goals. Hopefully this helps people, hopefully it opens a door for readers to provide feedback. Hopefully I’m not typing to a world of emptiness. Hopefully that was a subtle hint at requesting comments….

Settling (in).

So it has officially been two whole months since I started my new job and I’m happy to say I have not gone completely insane.

While it (still) is not my dream position in my dream field, I have to say that I’m doing pretty okay on a day-to-day basis. The pay is much, much better than my previous three jobs but I am probably most happy that I don’t sit in the parking lot each day for 30 minutes holding back tears and vomit because I can’t bring myself to walk through the doors, or drive home crying every night like I did at the job I held just under a year ago. For those wondering, yes – the salon really made me do that. Damn near each and every day.

I don’t want to (nor really can I) get in to too much detail in terms of my office and what we do on a daily basis. I just know that I’m surrounded by amazing, smart, winning attorneys practicing in both the United States and Canada and they have a great support staff made up of legal secretaries, paralegals and a super rad investigator that I am now a part of, helping them with each and every case. And that’s really cool. I’m learning a lot about the legal field that I would have never known anything about. The staff is all incredibly helpful since they know I am a complete rookie to all of this, and most don’t mind when I have SportsCenter on in the lunch room. Now if it could just stop being so unbearably quiet throughout the day to the point I’m begging for the phone to ring to break the horrifying silence….

But it is all still very odd to me. I am constantly wondering what if and I do not want to be that girl.

Recently, the one-year anniversary (tragicversary?) of my escape from Connellsville passed. I wouldn’t have noticed if not for my friends mentioning it just before the actual date. I didn’t get sad though, like most people do. I’ve talked before on here about what I went through down there and why I felt the way I did about it. This time, I had a chance to sit back and look at the past 365 days.

Sometimes, looking back, it’s almost as though those three months never even happened. Maybe because it was just three months, a summer (seriously, from Memorial Day weekend to Labor Day weekend) that could easily be forgotten.
I’ve stayed in contact with one person from my time there and even with them, the correspondence is unfortunately scarce. I don’t speak with anyone that I worked with and I am more than incredibly okay with that.

The most heartbreaking part of the past year for me was the reality that I wouldn’t be working in hockey for the 2014-2015 season. Anyone working in the industry knows that taking a season “off” is essentially a death sentence. Seriously, good luck getting back in the game.

I have too much respect for myself, my talent and my skills to associate myself with an organization I can’t morally support.

Surprisingly, I had two options this fall. One, I fought heavily for – I mean HEAVY. Looking back, I shouldn’t have had to sell myself so much to an organization that (should) know what they’re doing and in the end, it just wasn’t a good fit. A solid month in to the season and I’m pretty happy about not joining, even if the league would have looked great on my resume. I have too much respect for myself, my talent and my skills to associate myself with an organization I can’t morally support. Hearing negative comments about an organization is never something you want to hear from fans and the surrounding community, but if that’s the way they feel, it should definitely be known – just preferably to someone with more power and say than me.

Thankfully, a second option came about shortly thereafter. I was able to meet with executives from the new Federal Hockey League team that will be calling Port Huron home for the 2015-2016 season and not only did they want me to come on board, but are enthusiastic and supportive of all the ideas I had for the past four years. I’m very excited to get back to the Blue Water area and have a small part in bringing a great game night experience to great fans.

A wise man (or man-child, depending on who you ask) told me in the midst of all of this to “not settle” for a hockey job simply because it’s a hockey job. That my skills, passion and talent were too great to waste on a team that didn’t want me or that didn’t want to pay me.

It’s going to be a tough, busy winter as I’ll essentially be holding down three jobs: my Monday-Friday, 8-5 one in Bloomfield Hills, still serving as co-editor of Team NHL at StatsStyleScore.com and joining the hockey team in Port Huron.

Right now, I’m happy that I will be able to once again do what I love on the weekends while I make bank during the week. Eventually, the two will become one, but for now, I’m happy with what I got. It’s going to get me my own place in Oakland County – something I have wanted for a very, very long time – and an outlet for my passion. For now, that’s all I can ask for.

 I’m not hanging up.

There are still a lot of things I want to do and a lot of things I miss doing. I have no other option than to keep telling myself that a few things are just on hold for now. No one stays on hold forever: they either get tired of listening to muzak and hang up or stay on the line. I’m not hanging up.

Why I’ll forever defend journalists.

It’s not a secret, especially to my devoted readers, that I have a deep passion for journalism. I always viewed myself as a storyteller. Maybe it came from being an only child, reading to my stuffed animals and cat. Maybe it came from watching Good Morning America in the morning with my mom while we got ready for the day. It was always something I loved and once in high school, I realized I could make it a career.

While my path has been and continues to be filled with bumps in the road, obstacle after obstacle seemingly hell-bent on deterring my journey, my passion has never lessened.

I generally keep my mouth shut when people blast the media for their coverage. Those close to me – friends, family and even co-workers – know that if I start talking about it, you’ll have a hard time shutting me up. It’s almost as if they already know my opinion, so I don’t even need to say anything.

However, after the recent tragedy at WBDJ 7 in Roanoke brought a fresh batch of posts from some quite uneducated sources. It hurt my heart for so many reasons. I tried to remind myself that the vast majority of those posting have no insight into the industry. It would be the same if I looked at the banking industry or the Wall Street issues lately and tried to talk about it. Mostly, my heart hurt because people were not seeing this issue and asking questions.

My first thought was “Thank God she wasn’t a ‘MMJ’ and had someone with her, even if they’re both gone now.” For those of you wondering, “MMJ” is a multimedia journalist, or in layman’s terms, a reporter that goes out on their own to shoot and report on the story. No camera operator, no producer, often no reporters from other stations. I heard the term a lot during my internship, as it was what a lot of fresh graduates were offered at small market stations. I had heard horror stories from reporters of being sent to “rough areas” at night, for a story on a gang-related shooting. Mind you, reporters – especially female reporters – often dress “as reporters” throughout the day, from when they walk in to the station, to sitting in meetings, researching leads, interviewing the public and even while sitting off-set (although if shoes weren’t seen on camera, you can bet more than a few are wearing sneakers instead of heels and most female reporters have Uggs, flats or even slippers to wear around as often as possible). So when a young female reporter pulls up to a scene with a station vehicle, carrying a tripod, camera and other equipment, she looks out of place fast. 

You may be asking why the reporter does it, or thinking that she can refuse the assignment. I wish that were true. Instead, we were all groomed to believe that this is the way the industry worked and that was that. It can turn dangerous in an instant and to be completely honest, I am shocked that we don’t hear about it more often. Mostly because stations try to take that into consideration when handing out assignments, maybe even in hopes of not being sued. But it’s never off the table completely, with breaking news and all.

One of the best responses I saw to the WBDJ tragedy was from Ashlea Bullington, host and reporter for American Sports Network. Here’s a link to her piece, please take a moment to read it.

Journalists are the ones that put their lives in danger, right alongside law enforcement and first responders. They stand alongside the caution tape, feet away from bullet casings and blood splattered sidewalks, with witnesses that in all likelihood saw everything, but say nothing.  They work ungodly hours and eat their dinner from vending machines, unless the story they’re covering happened to have free food in which case, best story assignment of the week! They spend more time on hair and makeup than they do driving to work, all in hopes that an angry viewer may refrain from sending an angry email, attacking their look – even though they graduated summa cum laude from a top ten university. Yet it seems like too many, especially in my generation, do not respect journalists or journalism.

It’s probably my friends on Facebook that get under my skin far more than the three groups previously mentioned. I, like so many others, use that term quite loosely. Also, I, like so many others, get a lot of news from Facebook. However, anything deemed “hard news” as in, not a feature, feel-good story about puppies and reunited loves, I will validate before sharing. That means actually looking at what news source posted it and, perhaps most importantly, when they posted it. How many times today did you see something shared on Facebook from 2013? It’s easy to do and even easier to look past.

When people post about a topic, then say “I wish the news would talk about this” or otherwise bash the media, I question how they even heard about that topic in the first place. Was it because someone shared it on Facebook just a few moments ago and it popped up on your news feed? Where did they see the story? Did they share it after….seeing it….on….the news? Usually, those talking about that topic, without showing any type of media for their “friends” to follow up on, are the very ones that never actually watch the news or read a newspaper – physical copy or online edition. But please, share with us how you heard about that topic… because chances are extremely high that it came from a type of media.

The media is no longer pigeonholed into just TV, radio and newspapers. It’s has moved to online sources – websites for those three outlets – even Twitter, Facebook, etc. all stem from media. You may not realize it, but it is true. The very platform you are using to bash the media is media itself.

Lately, even simple posts seem to irritate me. Maybe I’m just in an irritable mood, or maybe I just do not want to tolerate ignorance any longer. Most of these people I see posting are too old to be promoting themselves on social media as being this ignorant. They’re in their late 20s, entering their 30s. Some are even parents. It breaks my heart to know that they will be active in society while coming off as so…. dumb. I see young mothers, my age or close to it, that have such horrible communication skills and I wonder if they’ll ever be able to help their children with the homework they’ll be bringing home in a few years. Those teachers are bound to question the education of the student’s parents when the homework even comes back wrong. I see people I graduated high school with lacking basic skills – even skills we learned in elementary and middle school – and it saddens me. Those same people feel the need to bash a field I devoted my educational career to. One that I respect and love. But they don’t even have the respect to spell something correctly or use the proper grammar and it honestly makes my brain ache. They only follow it up with speaking so harshly about the outlets bringing them the news that they’re trying to communicate about.

I’m not bashing those that were – for whatever reason – unable to attend college by any means, however I do question the need for certain people to bash those that did and those who respect certain fields. It’s common sense. Although that, along with common decency, seems lost today. It has crossed in to so many fields of daily life, that it is nearly impossible to escape. I can blame social media for the quick access to click “send” or “post” and leading to people posting before thinking, but ultimately, it is all at the user’s discretion. Some should be very thankful for the delete button.

When you realize the struggle was worth not settling.

Hey everyone! It’s been a while (93 days to be exact). A lot has changed over the summer of 2015. I did a lot of soul-searching, a lot of thinking and a lot of crying.

After nearly six months of struggle – mainly financially – I finally have a bright light that is within reach. While I can not make it 100% public just yet, it is a fantastic opportunity in a new field, a field I never thought I would be in. I’m hoping that this will give me a new set of skills, new networking opportunities and most importantly, financial freedom.

I even had friends, acquaintances and former customers offer me job leads and contact info.

While I may seem happy with all of this, it did not come easy by any means. This all came after months of searching only to be met with disappointment. I even had friends, acquaintances and former customers offer me job leads and contact info, but nothing ever worked out, even with references. The majority of the time, I wasn’t even worthy enough of a rejection email. So the few interviews I got, I took.

During a previous job interview (presented that same day) I was offered a position on the spot. Sounds great, right? Unfortunately for my checking account, it was a serving job that paid $3.23/hour. While that is the 2016 standard minimum wage for servers in Michigan, it was a hard pill for me to swallow. This was at a new venue that is sure to have success, but I would still be a waitress in a town that is notorious for poor tippers.
I was a waitress and then shot girl and bartender throughout my college career. It was a great way to earn money when my school schedule changed every few months. I liked it, because I’m a social person – a “talker” as my elementary and secondary teachers would say. I thrived in sports bars because I could relate to our clientele. I met some of my very best friends while serving and I remain close to them to this day.
Truthfully, I think everyone should have to be a server for one week of their lives: from the busy weekends to Monday Night Football to the slow Wednesday lunch hour. It would give you a sense of humility and you will forever respect the industry and have a better understanding of those in it.

This is where we clear our minds and relax and reflect on this crazy ride we call life.

Like I said: I was presented with the opportunity just prior to a second interview I had that day in a vastly different market in a completely different field. It was a roller coaster of a day and I did the only thing I knew how to: I ran. I ran home and cried and worried and over-analyzed and just everything. Shortly after, I ran to the beach. Being a Michigan girl, this is where we go. This is where we clear our minds and relax and reflect on this crazy ride we call life.

After a weekend of reflection and talking things over with family and close friends, I came to accept that this will be the best for me, right now.

Caseville, MI – looking out to Lake Huron. One of my favorite places in all of Michigan.

Unless I wanted to settle for a job in assisted living, turnip farms or on a manufacturing line, I had no options in this town.

Since mid-March, I had a lot of decisions to make: do I give up my ultimate goal in sports media and settle for a dismal job in the hometown I was trying so desperately to escape? I searched the local employment agencies and found that unless I wanted to settle for a job in assisted living, turnip farms or on a manufacturing line, I had no options in this town. I understand that a lot of people in this town, in this county even, have jobs at these places during the summer or do what I did and work as a waitress through college and that’s perfectly fine. But I worked tirelessly for years while in college to make sure I had my degree and I wouldn’t have to be a waitress anymore. Why wasn’t I being consider for better paying jobs, even at an entry level.

Seriously….

I know a hefty handful of people that work in the financial industry – as tellers, loan officers, etc. I’m lucky enough that the staff at the local branch of my bank are friendly and helpful, so I considered work as a teller; it’s a social environment and a steady industry (unless the Great Depression, Round II  is around the corner). However, after looking in to working at multiple branch locations of my own bank and others, nothing panned out. I was overqualified for jobs that had inconceivable qualifications to begin with.

It was tough: I wasn’t good enough for a bank, had too much pride to do the jobs that high schoolers in this town tend to dominate, and couldn’t bring myself back to the waitress level – especially in this cheap, non-tipping town. It would be entirely different if I was waitressing a little further south, in Oakland, Macomb or Livingston County, where the residents have more disposable income to dine out.

No paycheck was worth the verbal, mental and emotional abuse I was being subjected to each day.

The struggle was difficult. I tend to rate these setbacks against a curve, citing the passing of a loved one as precedent. In no way was this as difficult as that point in my life, but it was definitely in the top five. Additionally, this recent struggle was pale in comparison to what I went through last summer in Pennsylvania. At least this time, after leaving a horrible job in March, I had friends and family that knew I could do better and deserved better. I had friends visit me at the job I held over the winter and they instantly told me to leave; that no paycheck was worth the verbal, mental and emotional abuse I was being subjected to each day while working there.

I had worked too hard for this.

It was a difficult pill to swallow: that I had to demean myself everyday, Monday-Saturday for a job that was downright insulting. I had worked too hard for this.

So once I was no longer at that job, my mom began to bring home job ads daily. Every day, she would come home either on lunch or at the end of the day with anywhere from 3-15 job postings, for positions from data entry/clerical/office to retail. By the end of April, I had applied for far too many with no response. So I began to keep the printouts my mom brought home. I wanted to be able to visualize the about of jobs I was applying for, as a college graduate, and see just how the job market really looked. If a college graduate couldn’t get a job with a nationwide retailer, bank or even the very employment agency that was (supposed) to help her, there was something greatly wrong with this area and the society within it. From mid-March until early August, I had collected well over 200 job postings that I had applied for with very little interviews as a result.

I am the only member of my family – on either side – to receive my bachelors degree and second only to my mother to graduate college. After all, I thought that was what we were supposed to do with our lives. It had been drilled into our minds since junior high that we were supposed to excel at school, graduate from high school, move on to college and graduate with a degree. And that was the only way we would ever get a decent job.

So why now, as I’m using that degree to try to better my future and get a job that will lead me to financial stability and eventually moving up within a company with time, is my bachelors degree offensive? My bachelors degree was scaring away potential employers. But why, when I, like countless others, had been groomed to think that this is the path I should take?

• It could have been because they thought I was worth more than they were offering and I would leave for better opportunities. Well, if that was true, wouldn’t you leave for a better opportunity, too? Anyone would. That’s the point: it’s better. No one wants to be stuck at a job when they’re presented with a better offer. No one. Stop lying to yourself.
• It could have been because they anticipated I would ask for more pay than they were willing to offer. Well, that’s a very close-minded view on things. Just because I have my degree doesn’t mean I’m going to ask for an outrageous salary. I fully expect to prove my worth and move up with raises and promotions, over time.
• It could have been because they were intimidated. This was actually the explanation brought up several times, so it seems like the most accurate. I understand that my town is ran by older, less formally educated people that moved their way up the ladder in their profession. That is actually commendable in my eyes. But why on earth would you try to make it harder for those trying to work for you?

You’re probably thinking: “Good Lord, Krystle! If you’re trying to find a job that hard and are that proud of being a graduate, just ask your alma mater/alumni association for help!” Oh don’t you worry, I did that – multiple times. I even went as far as applying within the university itself. However, with more than 500,000 living alumni, I was definitely at the bottom of the barrel as far as applicants and it was difficult to get staff to help me.
The problem is that the job market is flooded with worthy applicants, but no one is willing to give them a shot, out of fear of their own downfall. Here’s the problem with that: if you’re afraid that college grad you hired will take your job in 5 years, it’s your fault for not rising to the occasion to keep your position or excel to a greater level, leaving an opportunity for that grad to move up themselves.

Luckily, that is all behind me now. After months of rejection and struggle, I can say that next week, I’ll be starting a job with a company that was more than happy to bring me on board. I don’t expect for everything to switch to pure harmony right away; I know there will be a transition period where I’m tired, busy throughout the week and poor from gas money. I also know that once everything has fallen into place, I will be immensely happier. It’s intimidating and exciting all at the same time. However, I’m more grateful than anything.

I’m grateful that I went through these hard times, as they taught me to stay hopeful. After all of this, the struggle since March, the depression, the nights full of crying and worrying, I fully believe the old saying about the arrow…

And that is exactly what I plan to do.

XOXO,
KH