The Time Is Now


Molly's yoga mat with can of nuts inside from 2016
This is Molly’s yoga mat. She put the can of mixed nuts inside of it in April of 2016

Physical movement is a common symptom, by-product and/or coping mechanism for a variety of conditions. Anxiety can produce nail biting, fear causes an increase in heartrate and handwringing, people who experience joy often jump up and down with glee. Trauma is no different. Movement and the compulsive need to move is a common by-product of how we deal with trauma. Often misidentified as ADHD, children (and adults) who have experienced trauma often have a hard time sitting still.

It is no wonder then, that I do not care for yoga. 

Pictured above is Molly’s yoga mat. She put the can of mixed nuts inside of it in April of 2016. Her doctor told her she was anorexic and Molly took that to heart. In the one week between her two appointments with this particular doctor she gained 5 pounds.  She put the nuts here so Kenny wouldn’t eat them. I wasn’t home.

But that is another story for another time.

The picture is here because I left my yoga mat, a purple one that once belonged to my Aunt Connie, in my friend Hugh’s car. I was looking for Gracie’s. In my rummaging through the barn, I came upon this in what used to be Kenny’s office. Needless to say, I did not use the mat. The mat, the blocks and those pink and blue weights were used by Molly and Gracie at dance. They were so sweetly dedicated to their mobility and fitness.  When Molly died these items were in the little room off the living room. They were next to a computer table. That room was untouched for over two years.

The table they are on now, in the barn, was Coach Luti’s.

I have a hard time letting go. I also have a hard time sitting still. Come to think of it I have a hard time with pretty much everything. Everything that is, except frenetic movement. I can fill a day with meaningful enough tasks that I don’t feel slovenly or like I am wasting my time while at the same time preventing myself from doing all of the things that I say I want to do.

MollyB Foundation? No more established than a year ago.

My online presence? No broader than a year ago.

My weight? No less than a year ago.

My fitness level? No better than a year ago.

My office? Still a dumping ground for things I cannot seem to let go of.

My schedule? Still controlled by all of those things I cannot control.

I am, however, editing the final version of the memoir that will be published this summer and quite frankly it has me a bit angry. I want to be authentic and honest. I want to talk about all that I went through with Molly. And I can tell almost all of the story just fine. But there is the big piece that I can not share.

The legal piece.

I feel like I need a shower when I think of the lawsuit because in order to receive a settlement, I had to duct tape my mouth shut. Not only can I not share anything. I can not even express how I feel about the whole thing. There is no justice here. I sat through hell during that process and the only outcome that is meaningful to me is the reality that my financial punishment for publicly saying how I feel or remotely disparaging those involved in Molly’s care is seven times more than the doctors were fined for the care they gave Molly.

Let that sink in for a minute.

In the eyes of the legal team(s), the biggest problem here is not Molly’s treatment or care but my publicly sharing that treatment or how I feel about it.  I want to give the money back. I would rather live in a box than maintain this paid for silence.

Being told to be quiet is a trigger for me.

In my recent CrossFit Level 2 training I had to teach a movement to a group of people without talking. This was kind of funny because it was not due to me saying things I shouldn’t rather it was all about my chatty nature! But it is a metaphor none the less. I talk too much! My mouth has gotten me into trouble for as long as I can remember. If I openly share my experiences from my lawsuit after Molly died I will no doubt see trouble.

My plan is to make enough money somehow to give them their hush money right back. Somehow, I will share what happened to Molly, but again, this is another story for another time.  Today is about my frenetic nature and doing everything I possibly can to prevent myself from enjoying success.

I hate myself sometimes.

In my first months working with Karen Kenney my main task was to stop the negative self-talk. I am much better now at refraining from uttering these words to myself. What I am coming to see, however, is that I have not changed how I feel about myself sometimes. I have just stopped sharing it with myself. If I am to be completely honest, I still hate myself a good amount of the time. It is hard not to when I am my biggest critic. And when so many of my past decisions cause me to cringe on the daily.

This would be the place for me to insert proclamations of self-love.

This is where I should declare my new diet and abstinence from alcohol.

This is the place I should declare my schedule set with unwavering intent.

I am not going to though. I do that all the time. Start things I do not finish. Fail at my goals. Fail to follow through. All so I can prove myself right, that I do suck. That I am hateful. That I am to blame for all of it. Finally, if I were a better mother Molly would be alive.

I don’t really like this narrative either.

Somewhere between proclamations of steps to success and a list of flaws is a sweet spot, I just know it. Perhaps it exists in my accomplishments. While I have a hard time listing those, I do know that I have done a lot of things that are positive.

 I have shared in the writing of a book that will be published in July.

 I have passed my L1 and L2 CrossFit coaching classes.

 I have been hired at two gyms.

I have recorded almost 90 podcast episodes.

I filmed a tv commercial.

I write a blog and an email every week.

I do Facebook lives almost daily. 

I applied for and received 501(c)3 status for The MollyB Foundation.

I work with a mindset coach who is like a therapist.

I pray everyday.

I take supplements and eat well.

I no longer drink alcohol every day or in excess.


Ok that last one is my shoutout to women everywhere that our bodies are magical in their ability to create and maintain the life of another human!

One of the first things my coach told me to do is to “create more visibility” for myself. All of the self-deprecation and self-sabotage help to keep the “that sucky girl who is not worthy” of good things in an invisible state.

As hard as it is, I have to let go of the barriers I create and hide behind. I am not yet willing to state a specific action other than this missive. I can no longer be mad at everyone else for all I am not accomplishing, nor can I continue to be mad at myself. I just have to do it.

One tiny step at a time.

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