I lived one.
I ran 5 days a week, did ab workout DVDs, went biking with Michael, and a little more here and there.
Now in comparison to Michael, I was sedentary, but he was my motivation to do that which I was active in to begin with.
Self care was something he was a huge advocate of, and feeling and looking my best made me feel great inside and out. Plus, it made me even prouder to stand next to my husband and be introduced as his wife.
Then it happened.
He was killed.
Suddenly I thought, “Screw it all.” I went out and ate everything I had cut from my diet. Steak, blizzards, Big Macs. I stopped caring about my it all, and hoped if anything, this lifestyle would make me see Michael sooner.
Well, it probably would, but with me looking like a sea world exhibition. Looking like someone he wouldn’t know…and I probably wouldn’t know either.
So I started. Started eating healthier, returning to a daily exercise routine, taking my dogs for that walk that their tales begged for.
It’s taken a while and I’ve just recently started pushing myself back to the level I was at when Michael was alive. I’ve moved from the elliptical to pavement and from hula hooping to weight lifting, but it’s happening.
So blinded by my grief and his death, I forgot me, I forgot the person he loves, I forgot that I am a living example of the man I am so in love with.
I feel him when I run, I feel him when I think I want to give up, I feel him when I look in the mirror, knowing he’d be standing next to me smiling.
Piece by piece his Taryn, my Taryn, is returning…and damn…it feels great.