Author: diannahkillian

Let’s face it. We are not ALL morning people. Some might argue that there is no such thing. Is it REALLY possible to just pop out of bed in the morning with a huge grin and instant pep in your step? Do people actually enjoy waking up early? I mean, who doesn’t LOVE sleep?

Okay, so maybe you aren’t afraid to admit that you are NOT a morning person. You loathe your alarm clock, despise that first inkling of light that peaks in through your curtains, and even cringe when you hear, “good morning” or any form of communication before you lift both lids. But what if I told you that your disdain of mornings just might be setting you up to have a miserable day?

Here’s the thing. Like it or not, we’ve all gotta get up. Every day. And if we wake up miserable, we are likely to carry that with us all day. So, we have to figure out a way to ENJOY mornings. My solution to this is to use the very first 5 minutes out of bed to get things rolling. Here is my system.

1. The very first thing I do is freshen up. I brush my teeth and wash my face. Seriously, BEFORE I do anything else. My first stop is ALWAYS my sink. This tells my mind and my body that I AM UP.

2. I open up all the windows in my house. Blinds, curtains, windows. I let the light and cool breeze flow into my home.

3. Next, I light a candle. (Or 7.) Something subtle. A burning candle always puts me at ease.

4. I turn on some tunes. I choose a record that isn’t too crazy but won’t put me back to sleep! Lately, it has been The Eagles.

5. Lastly, I take a DEEP breath and enjoy the atmosphere I just created. By now, all of my senses are awake. Oh, not all! COFFEE!

Okay, so like I said, I do these things in the first 5 minutes after I get out of bed. I have instantly created an atmosphere in my home that is relaxing and refreshing. My spirits are high and I’m ready to get stuff done. Now, here’s the thing. We all live different lives. Maybe you have to go to work really early. Maybe you have kids to attend to first thing. Maybe you need to wake up early to get a workout in. Maybe you don’t have any obligations in the morning! Regardless of your situation, THIS is my biggest tip.

Wake up early enough to RELAX.

Of course you’ll hate waking up in the morning if you are immediately stressed. Force yourself to get up 10 minutes earlier than usual so you can enjoy the morning. I promise, it will be worth it!

One more thing. None of these tips will work if you wake up to a messy house. I’ll share some tips on home organization and a simple cleaning schedule in a later post. But for now, spend 15 minutes before bed picking up your house. Put shoes, laundry, books, toys, make up, away. Load the dishwasher. Take out the trash. Waking up to a dirty house is no fun.

So it seems that we have a theme going on here. Spend a FEW minutes doing some stuff and you can set yourself up for success. 15 minutes at night straightening up. 10 minutes in the morning relaxing. I’ll keep adding ways to fill your spare minutes once you master these 2 things.

Now, I CHALLENGE you to try the morning routine for the rest of the week. Let me know how it goes! ❤

Loss is inevitable. Every one of us will lose someone at some point in our lives. I lost my grandpa, my uncle, and my nanny when I was a little girl. A favorite patient of mine at the old folks home where I volunteered died when I was a teen. My childhood cat, who lived for 18 long years, died in my twenties. I lost my mom before I turned 30 and my dad died the year before I was married. So I guess you could say that I know a thing or two about loss and heartache. But to define grief, to explain how it changes me, to express the way it makes me feel, is nearly impossible. There are tons of quotes on grief. There are books about it. Studies on it. Every one has something to say on the topic. I mean, the 5 steps of grief are common knowledge. But the thing about grief is that it isn’t just one thing.

Grief stuns you. It takes your breath away. It blinds you from everything beautiful and covers up all of the light. It drowns out the sounds of laughter and magic and music. It clouds your brain, messes with your memories, and makes it nearly impossible to focus. It is scary. It is heavy. It is constant.

And yeah, there are 5 stages. But they aren’t linear. It isn’t like you graduate from each stage and move on to the next, eventually mastering the sadness. Some days, I experience denial and anger and depression within the same couple of hours. Sometimes I’m stuck in bargaining for days. I rarely hit acceptance and if I do, it is quickly followed by one of the other four stages. I remember writing this blog post six months ago but I deleted it because when I read it back, it sounded so damn angry. And I should have posted it. Because that’s just real life. I’m angry. A lot. Sometimes I can’t see past it. And of course when I snap out of it, I can’t believe I acted that way. But I did and I will again after some time passes. Maybe weeks, possibly hours later.

I think one of the hardest parts of grief is apathy. Grief does this thing where it takes away every part of you that makes you care about literally anything. Seriously, nothing matters. And you know that you don’t care, but YOU DON’T CARE about that either. I was in a pretty bad place about six months ago and was completely overwhelmed with apathy. I didn’t care about what I did, what I ate, who I spent time with, what others were going through, or what would happen to me. It wasn’t like I was actively trying to not care. I just didn’t. There were days when I would sit on the couch in the morning and hours would pass without me noticing. And I’d just be sitting there. My mind would actually shut off. And the little things, well, they didn’t exist. I didn’t notice how things tasted or sounded or made me feel. Everything was grey and I didn’t care.

I eventually snapped out of this. I don’t really even remember what changed in me. It had happened a few times before and I could pinpoint the moment. But this time, I’m not sure. I can say that it was like waking up from a coma. I looked around to see that life was still going on around me. But in the time that I was checked out, I changed. My body, my mind, my everything. I gained a good amount of weight. I was unhealthy and it showed in my body, my hair, my skin. And my confidence sank. I have always been incredibly self confident. I mean, I’ve always gone up and down with weight and it isn’t that I think I’m perfect. I’ve just been comfortable in my own skin. But for the first time, I wasn’t. I felt weak and ugly and I actually hated looking in the mirror. My emotions were now manifesting in my pride and self-confidence.

So, I looked around me and I took inventory of what I had. Of course I noticed that my sweet husband was still here, in love with me as always. Patient, kind, understanding, loving. He was sad and he needed ME, but he was there. I thought about the friends and family members who checked on me on a regular basis, the people who let me know they were always thinking of me. I thought about the people who counted on me with their health and fitness journeys and I realized that they were still there, waiting for me to help them. And so I just started. Communicating. Opening up. Listening. Loving on others. Helping those who needed it. Working out and eating healthy. Writing. Spending time doing things that mattered. And it was a conscious choice, every single day. I would feel the apathy start to creep up on me and I’d run from it.

The upside to apathy is that you don’t feel much. I think that is probably why it hit me so hard. I actually couldn’t deal with my losses and my mind sort of shut off. So now that the apathy is (mostly) gone, I feel everything again. And it hurts. And I go through the 5 stages, over and over again. But I’m learning that that isn’t ever going to change. Yes, I’ll get stronger over time and I’ll learn to deal with it. But it won’t go away. I find myself worried when I get sad sometimes that THIS moment might be the one that sends me back into that dark place. I keep waiting for the free fall on this roller coaster of life. And I know it is naive to say that it won’t come. I just hope, every day, that I’ll be able to hold on and come right back up!

So that’s it. That’s the thing about grief. It isn’t linear and there isn’t a cure. No amount of time changes what happened. And I can’t always sugarcoat it because it IS sad and it needs to be said. So that when people experience loss, they don’t feel like they are losing their mind because their grief takes them to such dark places. I wan’t people to understand that YES, I AM OKAY. Of course I am! Life is good. But that doesn’t mean that this isn’t a part of me now. And the thing is, people won’t understand. Of course they love you and they are sad for you, but they’ll never really get it. Even if they’ve experienced loss themselves. Because our grief is just that. It is ours. But I think that is where the strength comes from. It has to. Because we HAVE to rise.

And we do.

One of my very favorite things about my dad is that he was a dancer. I’m not talking ballroom here. I’m talking middle of the kitchen after he served himself a GIANT bowl of ice cream, up from the couch after the 9ers scored a touchdown, or over my bed as he pulled open my shades and yelled, “RISE AND SHINE!” at 8am on a Saturday. And he wore hospital pants for his pajamas (because they were incredibly comfortable) so I picture those surgical green scrubs dancing around our house. It’s one of those images that my mind always goes to when I think of my dad. And when I picture him tired and weak and pale from the cancer, I squeeze my eyes shut and force that image to the forefront. And for a moment, I’m taken back to a time when both of my parents were healthy and alive and when the thought of that changing wasn’t ever present. When I think of my dad now, I like to think that he is somewhere, dancing. And now that my mom has left us, I hope that she is up there, too. I don’t really see her dancing. It is more like watching him and laughing and clapping gleefully. That’s my new image.

As a little girl, I was incredibly close to God. Seriously, he was my best friend. He was always with me. I talked to him all day long, just as I would with a tangible friend. As life happened, He was always my one constant. It wasn’t until the last 8 years or so that things changed. My friendship with God. My religious affiliations. My complete understanding in His plan. And I’m sure a lot of that can be attributed to the loss of both my parents. I get that. But it really is so much more. But today, that isn’t the point. Today I simply say thatI miss Him. And that I’m still, and forever, grateful.

Now I’m not looking for others to read this and immediately bear their testimony. I actually hope that doesn’t happen. I’ve started a new post on my relationship with God over the years and I’ll post it when I’m really ready. I wrote it with the hope that it will give some clarity to those who don’t understand my choices. But writing it did so much more for me. It made me start to feel His presence again. I love that. Anyway, more on that another day.

The point of this post is to address today. I woke up with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Seriously, like a heavy blanket over my soul. I have no doubt that it is because of today and what it means for my family. I know, with complete certainty, that families are eternal. We only get such a small time together here on earth and that is incredibly hard to understand. But one day, because of His ultimate sacrifice, we will be reunited.

The week before my dad died, he went to church with me.

I should mention that he was completely against my chosen religion and had never attended a service with me. But he went and the opening hymn was “I Know That My Redeemer Lives.” There is a line in the song that says,

He lives and grants me daily breath.

He lives, and I shall conquer death.

My dad broke down in tears because at that point, he was looking for a miracle and he took that line as hope that God would give him another chance and he’d conquer death and live. I knew that it meant that even if he didn’t make it here on earth, he would conquer death by receiving eternal life, BECAUSE of the resurrection. And in that moment, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. Quite like today.

Now, I’m not one to preach but the thing is, THIS knowledge is what holds everything together for me. It is the idea that one day I get to hear my mom’s laugh and see my dad’s smile. And that lights me up and carries me through. So on really hard days, I picture all of us, together. Dancing it out in surgical green hospital pants. Free of pain. Free of heartache. Full of joy. Forever. That is what today means for me.

I know that my Redeemer lives.

What comfort this sweet sentence gives!

He lives and grants me daily breath.

He lives, and I shall conquer death.

He lives my mansion to prepare.

He lives to bring me safely there.

I hope that we can all feel this peace, today and every day.

It’s been a long time since my last post. I started this blog with the hopes of using my writing as an outlet for everything I was feeling after losing my parents. After bottling up my feelings for 6+ years over the loss of my dad, I was determined to do things differently when I lost my mom in February. My husband and I left our lives in Utah and moved to California to be closer to my family. He left a job he loved and I did the same, not knowing how much my classes and my students had become a part of me. We moved into an adorable and ridiculously small cottage in the Central Valley and essentially started over. The first few weeks were wonderful. I felt like I was myself for the first time in a long time. I was excited to be closer to my family and I felt like I was getting to know my husband all over again. I was working out and spending my time helping others get healthy. I was allowing myself to be open and really FEEL the losses for the first time. I was willing to talk about it and write about it and was working through it.

I think I had this fantasy that if I did those things, I would be stronger and I would be able to work through it. So, I was going through the process of revisiting my past in hopes of some closure. I went back to my hometown. I visited my grandparents at the cemetery, drove past my old school, and even sat in front of my childhood home for awhile. It was…weird. I felt emotionless. As I drove out town, I thought that maybe I didn’t feel much because I was okay. I had moved on. The next week was the 7 year anniversary of my dad’s death. I decided to drive to the city and visit his grave, for the first time since the service.

I really prepared for it. I looked at pictures of us the night before, something I NEVER do. I made a play list of all of his favorite songs to listen to on the way to visit him. These songs were on my “Do not listen to” list since he left. I bought flowers and brought a blanket, thinking I’d spend some time talking to him. I was ready.

And then something happened. On my way to visit him, I crossed the Bay Bridge. I was listening to “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay” and there was this moment where I looked over and saw the ocean. My mom wanted her ashes to be spread over that very ocean so that whenever we saw it, we’d think of her. I’d seen the ocean many times since we did just that, and I’d come to a place of peace with it. But at that moment, something hit me. I wanted to pretend like I was going to spend the day with my dad and that I was okay that it was a cemetery and not actually him. I wanted to feel my mom’s presence as I drove over that bridge and take it as a sign that she was with me. But I didn’t. Something clicked and everything changed inside me.

Both of my parents are dead. Gone forever. They both suffered horrific deaths and I was the one who had to decide to let them both die. That’s just the reality. I wasn’t at peace. I was on my way to sit on a piece of grass where my big, strong dad’s ashes were buried. And I was looking over at this massive body of water where my sweet mom’s ashes had been poured into. And there was no peace in any of it. Just an overwhelming sense of fury.

And after that, things were different. I’m not proud of it, but I fell into this ever-sinking hole of complete sadness. At first, I couldn’t shut my mind off. Images of my incredibly sick and weak parents flooded my mind, especially at night. I couldn’t turn it off. I quickly got to a point where I felt nothing. It was like my body was going through the motions of everyday life but my head and my heart were gone. I shut down. I went from crying all day to doing nothing at all. I would sit on the couch and then all of a sudden it would be 4 hours later. Like my mind would just shut off. I think it had to because I couldn’t handle it anymore. I honestly could no longer deal with the pain. I completely stopped everything. I didn’t care about how I looked or felt so I stopped working out and eating well. I tried writing but everything I wrote was so angry and I didn’t want to believe that that was how I felt. I stopped talking, to Cody and to my friends. I stopped caring. I couldn’t understand the purpose in anything. I allowed myself to just disappear.

Then one day, about 6 weeks ago, my husband came home from work and we had a conversation. I won’t share the details of it, but basically I realized that HE wasn’t happy. My sweet, patient, selfless husband who had given everything up for me wasn’t happy. And that rocked me back into reality. He is my entire world and the thought of him being anything but completely happy made me more sad than anything else I was feeling.

And that was a swift kick in my ass. So, I snapped out of it. I was still feeling all of the things I had been feeling but I made a decision to move forward. To quit being selfish. To get my life back.

I recently read this article that my brother sent to me, “The Day I’ll Stop Grieving” (everyone who has ever lost someone or who knows someone who has should read it) and I realized that grief isn’t a process that I have to work through. There isn’t this other side to get to. And as much as I want to overcome these horrible tragedies, that’s simply not possible.

…I’ve realized that Grief doesn’t just visit you for a horrible, yet temporary holiday. It moves in, puts down roots—and it never leaves. Yes as time passes, eventually the tidal waves subside for longer periods, but they inevitably come crashing in again without notice, when you are least prepared. With no warning they devastate the landscape of your heart all over again, leaving you bruised and breathless and needing to rebuild once more… You are forced to face your inability to do anything but feel it all and fall apart. It’s incredibly difficult in those quiet moments, when you realize so long after the loss that you’re still not the same person you used to be; that this chronic soul injury just won’t heal up. This is tough medicine to take, but more difficult still, is coming to feel quite sure that you’ll never be that person again. It’s humbling to know you’ve been internally altered: Death has interrupted your plans, served your relationships, and rewritten the script for you…I’ve walked enough of this road to realize that it is my road now. This is not just a momentary detour, it’s the permanent state of affairs. I will have many good days and many moments of gratitude and times of welcome respite, but I’m never getting over this loss… The day I’ll stop grieving –is the day I’ll stop breathing.”

I’m not back to myself yet and I don’t know when I will be. Probably never. But the “fake it ‘til ya make it” process seems to be working wonders. So yes, I’m incredibly sad. And no, I don’t know how I’ll get through it. But I know I will. I know it is easy for people to tell me what I’m going through is normal and to see a therapist or turn to God. And I appreciate the concern, I do. But I need to decide what is right for me.

So here is the silver lining. I love my husband and my big brother so much and while I’m horrified at the thought of going through the rest of my life without my parents, I know that I have so many wonderful experiences ahead of me. So, I keep going. I allow myself to feel everything I don’t want to. To be sad but to live through it. Mostly, I’m thinking about the relationships that truly matter to me and that I’ve sort of let go of and I’m trying to rebuild them. I’m forming lasting friendships and I’m getting back to who I am. I’m reading more. I’m working out again. I’m starting to pray a bit. So that’s it. It isn’t much and it isn’t pretty. But it’s okay. It’s life. This thing we call grief isn’t definable. You can’t break it down into 5 stages and you can’t control it. You just have to figure out how to live with it. And to truly love life. That’s the goal. I think I see now that “The day I’ll stop grieving – is the day I’ll stop breathing” and that I have to figure out how to live each day with that grief.

I grew up in a beautiful, quaint, little town in Northern California. After I left home, I found myself missing the trees. There is something about living in a forest that sort of takes your breath away and when you breathe in, you can taste the pine. It smells of home. Although there is an abundance of green in northern California, it isn’t until you are about an hour from my little hometown that you feel surrounded. Last week, I went back for the first time in over seven years. It was on that drive, about an hour from Burney, that I was flooded with memories from my childhood. It was the road my dad taught me how to drive. The lookout point where I’d go to make out with my high school sweetheart. The route my mom and I took some weekends to go shopping in the city. The road I drove away on when I decided to leave home. I could feel my family with me and it excited me. It was familiar.

Driving into town was so much different. The community has changed so much and many of the businesses have closed or have been replaced. I kept waiting to feel something BIG but mostly it was lackluster. I called my brother on the way home and explained how I felt but he wasn’t surprised. Our family was gone. Although Burney holds so many tender memories for me, it is no longer home. Almost everyone I know has moved on and the town is simply a blurb in my life.

Please don’t be mistaken. I LOVED that town. I had an amazing childhood with parents who loved my brother and me. I had great friends and I worked hard in school and sports. I truly loved my life. I feel blessed to have grown up in a small community where I felt safe and loved. I spent my childhood playing outside until dark and then reading books until I fell asleep. I learned the value of a strong work ethic and held my share of responsibility. I watched my parents struggle financially and in their marriage. I fought endlessly with my brother. I made close friends and spent weekends staying up all night talking about life. I spent hours on the school bus traveling to volleyball tournaments and basketball games. Most afternoons I could be found at practice or at a school related function. I served my community. I worked as a lifeguard in our tiny little town. I learned to love myself unconditionally and be confident with who I am. I developed a relationship with God and we truly became best friends. I said goodbye to my dad as he left for months for work and ran to him when he came home. I watched my mom suffer from depression and insecurities but continue to hold it together. I used writing and sports as outlets to deal with the tough stuff. I played cops and robbers and then house with my brother. I helped my dad quit smoking at least a dozen times. I danced in the living room with him and brother as the 49ers scored a touchdown and stood on the couch to yell at the stupid kicker who missed a game changing field goal. I struggled with being overweight and was picked on for it. I listened to my dad sing Otis Redding and Elvis Presley songs and talk about his big brother who died in Vietnam. I walked to my grandma’s house to help her pick out fish for her giant tank and listened to her stories about her husband who died when I was little. I learned how to throw a football through a tire. I caught frogs with the neighborhood kids in the pond across from my house. I read to little kids at the library. I watched my best friend fall apart when her dad died. I felt a pang of guilt when I took a sip of alcohol at a party after my dad told me he trusted me. I had my first kiss. I fell in love. I learned to always be honest and real. I learned that family is absolutely everything.

So naturally, I thought that I would be bombarded with emotions as I spent time in my hometown but I didn’t feel much of anything. Sure, I felt sadness because my parents are gone and I wondered what it would be like if they were still here and still lived in our little house on Cypress. But I was okay. I knew that I had a wonderful husband waiting for me in our home and I have a lifetime to make more memories. I realized that although this place was magical to me as a child, it is no longer home and that’s okay.

The hardest part was driving by my old house. My dad took so much pride in our yard and we spent many hours on the weekend weeding, planting flowers, and watering. I can still hear him whistling as he’d water the trees by hand each night. Sadly, the house is now abandoned and run down. The rose bushes have dried up and weeds run wild. My bedroom window where my high school boyfriend would come tell me goodnight is covered in overgrown plants and weeds. The paint has chipped off and the roof looks like it is about to fall in. The carport that I watched my dad put up is now dented and damaged. How strange to see something that was once strong and full of love look so broken. The house reminded me of my dad, my big, strong, stubborn dad after cancer took away his strength.

That was hard. And I cried as I drove through town and thought about all of the what-ifs. And then I stopped myself and thanked God for the childhood I was given. For two parents who loved their children more than anything else. For a big brother who always protected me and continues to be my idol. For the love I felt, the friendships I made, and the memories that can never be taken away from me. And I drove out of the beautiful, little forest and back to my new home.

Wow. The responses I’ve received from my first post have seriously warmed my heart. It is terrifying to put myself out there for the world to see and I was nervous about how my blog would read. I didn’t want it to come across as sad and depressing but I also didn’t want to sugar coat things. As I stated at the end of my first post, I want to show the world that that it is okay to be sad and happy at the same time, that it is possible to experience the worst pain and still live each day with a sense of pride, a desire for growth, and a fresh and positive outlook on life. I’m thankful for those who read my post, for all of the kind messages I received, and for the opportunity to keep going. But I have to be honest, I’ve been scared to post again because really, how do I move on from the last one? Here goes nothing!

We’ve been in California for almost a full month and we are LOVING it. It is so pretty here. The trees create sort of a tunnel as you stroll through the streets, the sound of the distant train is beautifully comforting, and the sense of possibility is unbelievable freeing. We’ve spent lots of time exploring and just hanging out. I am definitely a small town girl and we lived in a ridiculously small town together for the last 6 years. But I missed good restaurants, live music, new people, and bustling streets. We definitely found that here! We spent a couple hours walking around downtown, checking out different places, and just enjoying our time together.

While we are loving it here, there are a few downsides. It is HOT. We are definitely going to need a pool! Also, there are spiders EVERYWHERE. Our little cottage is adorable and the patio is beautiful but if you look closer, you will see what I’m talking about. I went outside to water and I seriously felt like I was going to be mauled by spiders. Have you ever seen the movie, Arachnophobia? I felt like I was in that film. I immediately called the bug guys and they LAUGHED at me. They said that this area is known for bugs. I WILL DIE.

Another downside is that this place has a delicious bakery on every corner. I sort of forgot that bakeries even existed. Donuts just come from grocery stores, right? Not here! And I am not even a sweets person but oh my goodness. We found this cute little bakery and I’m sad to report that we went there THREE DAYS IN A ROW. You guys. The chocolate brownies are rich and delicious and evil.

But, I’m proud to report that it was just a brief phase and we have been bakery free for the last 10 days. Whoop!

Another adjustment has been dealing with all of the time I now have. I have all of these hopes and goals and dreams and I am just trying to figure out how to facilitate my days so BIG things happen. I have really loved spending my time helping others set and reach goals. It definitely fills the hole I’m feeling from not teaching. Yesterday was the first day of school at my old job and my students were texting me all day. It was such a strange feeling.

I miss them so much! So although I’m excited about this new journey, my heart is definitely still with them!

Those of you who know me or follow me on Facebook or Instagram know that I LOVE home workouts. T25, Cize, The 21 Day Fix, Body Beast. I love them all. Sadly, we don’t have room in our little cottage for a weight bench so we can’t do Body Beast, which is a weight lifting program. So, we decided to join a gym. I have never really been a fan of them because of all the sweat and germs and heavy breathing. But, we found a place that is crazy cheap and decided to try it out. I’m doing cardio at home in the mornings and then we go to the gym together in the afternoons. So far, so good!

I feel like there are one billion things I want to write about, but I’ll save the details of our first day trip, an update on how our fury littles are adjusting to a new place, and my various reunions with old friends for another post.I’m actually going on a road trip to Oregon with a new friend on Thursday and I am SO excited! I’m also nervous. She lives in my hometown and I haven’t been back there for 7 years. I took Cody there when we were dating. The thing is, both of my parents were alive. It’s going to be pretty emotional to go back to the place I grew up knowing that they are both gone now. I have such fond memories of that tiny little town and I hope that I am flooded with joy and love. I’m sure you’ll hear all about it next week!

I’ll leave you with a quote I found from Emily Dickinson that has been on my mind a lot lately. I love that WE choose how our lives play out. I spent too much time letting life pass me by and just being a statue in it. I’m so excited to steer my own course, create new paths, and experience each day with a sense of wonder and possibility!