Okay, maybe not stupid, just struggling

Maybe I'm not totally stupid, but I swear there's something deeply wrong with me. I'm sure I could benefit from therapy or drugs or maybe both, but I'm from the old school of I can fix this myself. So far though, I'm not being very successful. <br /><br />The thing that makes me kind of nuts is how hard I work out at the gym, almost every day, then I turn right around and throw away all the hard work by overeating. To make matters worse, I eat crazy stuff. Like too many strawberries or blueberries. Or a couple bowls of oatmeal with walnuts (that was last night). It's healthy stuff, but too many calories. <br /><br />Maybe someday I'll figure it out, but for now I'm continuing the struggle, some days are harder than others. <br /><br />Tomorrow is going to be a killer day. I have to get up at 4am, be on the road by 5am and head up to catch the light rail from the airport up to Seattle and be at the Westin Inn by 7am for a fundraiser. I get roped into this thing every year and just can't seem to say no.<br /><br />It's for the King County Sexual Assault Resource Center (KCSARC). It's a center that provides therapy for sexually abused children and their families. It's a great organization it depends a lot on the funds raised at the fund rasiers they have throughout the year. <br /><br />I started going about six years ago when my girlfriend's daughter was five and was sexually molested by the next door neighbor's "uncle". It's a horrible story and caused a lot of trauma for the child and the family. They always go every year to the KCSARC fundraiser. The little girl is now 11 (or maybe 12) and she speaks in front of the group (1,000 people tomorrow) about her experience. It makes me cry every single time. <br /><br />So even though it's for a very good cause, I don't want to go. For lots of reasons, hearing the tear jerker story again, feeling the little girl's pain as she tells what it was like to be forced to do something against her will when she was only five years old. I know I'll cry.<br /><br />Then there's the traveling to downtown Seattle at 6am. Another girlfriend is going with me, so we're going to try to make it an adventure. Neither one of us has ever ridden the new light rail from Seatac airport to downtown. I feel like a country mouse going to the big city. I'm more a suburbia girl than a city girl. <br /><br />Of course, I'll miss my early morning workout which makes me a little uncomfortable, but I'm dealing with it. I can miss working out on a normally scheduled day, and I won't die. Trying to roll with the punches here.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Today's pictures brought to you from my walk at noon with three friends. It's was another glorious day here in Seattle.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">The trailhead - Des Moines Creek Trail, near by office at Seatac, WA</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVHP0TeWJHnLgYFdUoMjX90chIAxuZewV3akGzDT0KrcX2eYRN7ISQ3E6LSOtF4JmRyJxgsaIrV7HpfDQVM54XVj1E6yU_5kIPdwKoLWP2SZ-jBBoRdaX_BJzfZ3ywbYx2YpEupM7sYAaN/s1600-h/Trailhead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVHP0TeWJHnLgYFdUoMjX90chIAxuZewV3akGzDT0KrcX2eYRN7ISQ3E6LSOtF4JmRyJxgsaIrV7HpfDQVM54XVj1E6yU_5kIPdwKoLWP2SZ-jBBoRdaX_BJzfZ3ywbYx2YpEupM7sYAaN/s640/Trailhead.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Des Moines Creek runs next to the trail</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNcibCyZWZrgCbf5Od3-rHesf6l7xK1PoIbSeme7bhQ4jEtc34Uw2QdHE82TMTFdBve_7T5zpEOlTP6Zd4enZQ3gxsfeQp2vSGc9t2IGl269FddCkcKKrEKDgkF9ahYpKZHmY3DP3NNW3/s1600-h/Des+Moines+Creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNcibCyZWZrgCbf5Od3-rHesf6l7xK1PoIbSeme7bhQ4jEtc34Uw2QdHE82TMTFdBve_7T5zpEOlTP6Zd4enZQ3gxsfeQp2vSGc9t2IGl269FddCkcKKrEKDgkF9ahYpKZHmY3DP3NNW3/s640/Des+Moines+Creek.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Ferns on the hill next to the trail</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nr2xkcd4NEWxRx7k_1VU-9ZAjY2aBuFJRlS6UpJEA8G2cgf4i9lcqxB5bj35DV4Xc8YxQdgn_COnH0UpxMBPapiTk0Rr6nuiC2KeDilytGJ1yc079aaQCl45LwRSIQomT7-8Zo9LbQgh/s1600-h/ferns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nr2xkcd4NEWxRx7k_1VU-9ZAjY2aBuFJRlS6UpJEA8G2cgf4i9lcqxB5bj35DV4Xc8YxQdgn_COnH0UpxMBPapiTk0Rr6nuiC2KeDilytGJ1yc079aaQCl45LwRSIQomT7-8Zo9LbQgh/s640/ferns.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My friends decided not to wait for me as I as taking so many pictures. I had to keep running to catch  up with them. Talk about interval training!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh95APc-cI9JmH1-LPw8IZs66SuxYFWnZOlgZN3h_dKgMDeOppkiQR7qBnou_nVMqQPzNd52lrNzVnh4b9GmEonIRauezMqxC6CPA7e2GdlJ5FQxIpILzr4rIVdrf1V9WLfbtbax3tfaOVC/s1600-h/my+friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh95APc-cI9JmH1-LPw8IZs66SuxYFWnZOlgZN3h_dKgMDeOppkiQR7qBnou_nVMqQPzNd52lrNzVnh4b9GmEonIRauezMqxC6CPA7e2GdlJ5FQxIpILzr4rIVdrf1V9WLfbtbax3tfaOVC/s640/my+friends.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The dog guy. Every time I walk this trail at noon I see this guy. He has three of the sweetest, friendliest dogs you've ever met. They know me now and always run up to greet me, with tails wagging.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5aN1nCAe9Z9tBJaiI7AtsXd05IkjcHrkXDVfiIs1joK7Cqzch8vaHyQTzj_OAX65jDcY8roSVafbcvEgZcu5Q2zLE_zWMWRWpshJI1UWtk7sh9osL_BNPo7UrnCdEto8-OZ_aiZZtqimd/s1600-h/the+dog+guy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5aN1nCAe9Z9tBJaiI7AtsXd05IkjcHrkXDVfiIs1joK7Cqzch8vaHyQTzj_OAX65jDcY8roSVafbcvEgZcu5Q2zLE_zWMWRWpshJI1UWtk7sh9osL_BNPo7UrnCdEto8-OZ_aiZZtqimd/s640/the+dog+guy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Dog guy's dogs. The one on the left is 15 and had cancer two years ago until Mrs. Dog Guy starting making dog food for the dog. His cancer disappeared and now he acts like a pup (the dog, not the guy :).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ4d04ws0qGJ9qn0BJwEiPUtKw9wJH-_3e4lNKNA12UP8iNDUrVbsKyTtYdkOM2GXFZiSd81Ul2bf9KF_3-n1oRG_NWt8stKevbGGHqOtKkEFpOCQCdfOqVZhvyNOKJhdhDRDRxqwy-JgG/s1600-h/dogs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ4d04ws0qGJ9qn0BJwEiPUtKw9wJH-_3e4lNKNA12UP8iNDUrVbsKyTtYdkOM2GXFZiSd81Ul2bf9KF_3-n1oRG_NWt8stKevbGGHqOtKkEFpOCQCdfOqVZhvyNOKJhdhDRDRxqwy-JgG/s640/dogs.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">These white flowered trees were all along the beginning of the trail. No idea what type of tree, but really pretty. Looked like snow (but it was 58 degrees today).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRMdAsLUSr5_JZ3GXa7Nr5lNSV6Dt072WtCSZn-sRjI9ju-O451vBeCAC-SE-jq1IiL9Yox47vh0z1Qw1J8wYDjAe1x0vGwm4mrcVRtgQa2NAM5572dNajfUemAL2Qqqmm_VVikEz9_Y20/s1600-h/White+trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRMdAsLUSr5_JZ3GXa7Nr5lNSV6Dt072WtCSZn-sRjI9ju-O451vBeCAC-SE-jq1IiL9Yox47vh0z1Qw1J8wYDjAe1x0vGwm4mrcVRtgQa2NAM5572dNajfUemAL2Qqqmm_VVikEz9_Y20/s400/White+trees.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>

Okay, maybe not stupid, just struggling

Maybe I'm not totally stupid, but I swear there's something deeply wrong with me. I'm sure I could benefit from therapy or drugs...

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