Stories from Kristina + Breanne

Shared by Breanne Smedley I remember making those paper countdown chains as a kid. Counting down the number of days left until summer break. The number of days until Christmas. Or, my birthday. During those last weeks of school, I would get a spark of happiness as I (or one of my classmates) got to rip another colored piece of construction paper off the chain. Signaling that we were getting that much closer to summer. To no homework. No more reading. No more tests. Freedom. Now, as an adult, I feel like these paper chains are subconsciously still at work. Countdown to the end of a four, six, or ten-week eating/exercising challenge. Countdown to the next “stage” that our kids will get to. Countdown to the next step in the career. Countdown to retirement. The idea that whatever counts in life will occur in the future. That, at some point, the chain will come to an end and we have arrived. Most of us know, this is a hoax. At the end of six weeks of eating healthy and exercising, most peop...

  Shared by Breanne Smedley It’s the reason we, as a nation, are overweight. It’s the reason we can’t achieve the goals we set out to do. It’s the reason we can’t stop eating. It’s the reason we quit on ourselves. Lack of willpower… Right? Isn’t that the solution we’ve been told? Just have more willpower. More motivation. Well, I’ve learned that my willpower is terrible. Left to rely on my own motivation, I’m toast. Because, everyday, there is a battle inside myself from the moment I wake up. The alarm, sounding off at 4:45am. I don’t feel like waking up. I want to press snooze, sleep in the comfort of my bed a little longer. But, I knew that my motivation and willpower would be weak. So, the night before I put my phone in the bathroom. Forcing me to get out of bed. Once I do, the choice now becomes to get ready as efficiently as possible. But, I want to delay a little bit. Check my phone. Email. Social media. Did that parent respond? Did the launch get any engagement? Things that ...

Shared by Breanne Smedley There are some people that you meet in life, just at the right time in your journey. Whether it’s the universe, God, or just being in the right place at the right time, it’s pretty amazing to look back and see how it happened. I first met  Karis Cooper  out of desperation. I was 6 months pregnant and suffering from awful sciatic pain. I had called around to a couple of different chiropractors in the area, but none could get me in as soon as I wanted to. Next up on the google search list: Cooper Chiropractic. To my surprise, they had an opening the next day. YES!! I couldn’t wait. I met Karis and automatically could tell that she was one of those women that I desired to be like. Strong but gentle. Assertive yet empathetic. Passionate. Generous. She adjusted me and gave me loads of great information about pregnancy, childbirth, and postpartum care. While chatting, the conversation went to her daughters. And then to volleyball. Turns out, Karis had conne...

Shared by Breanne Smedley Charlee isn’t even two yet. But, somehow, almost every room in the house has a baby, toddler, and kid toys in it. The living room is a prime example. We have four big cubbies in our living room that used to sit, unoccupied. Now, I can barely close them. Overstuffed with toys, hundreds of parts of toys, and stuffed animals. It’s the same thing in our bonus room. It’s been overtaken by books, kid chairs, and cubbies full of toys that look similar to the ones downstairs. Like “where did all these toys come from?!” I found myself asking the other day. And she has a birthday coming up, where are we going to put all the new toys?! Which other room is she going to slowly take over? When she does play with the toys, it looks like a friggin bomb went off within seconds. Everything comes out. I can barely see the floor. 99% of the time, she usually only plays with one or two of the toys anyways. Or, just leaves the mess. The fun was pulling out the toys, not playing wit...

  Shared by Breanne Smedley The other day, I wrote about how making and maintaining friendships as an adult is hard. Turns out, there are others who feel the same way. Struggling to find the time and energy it takes to form new friendships. Watching other friendships in their lives change as time and distance increase. Later that day, I was challenged within StoryAthlete GRIT to write to the prompt, “My associations matter.” Specifically, the principle that “You’re the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” I tried to take it literally and list these people out. Brett. Charlee. Kristina. My mom. Who’s the fifth? I felt like any number of my family members, friends, or colleagues could fill that role. Do I rank it by the amount of time spent, or depth of relationship? I see my colleagues every day. But, I have some friendships that are deeper, even though I don’t see these people on the daily. Also, does it have to be someone I see in person? I went into a spiral ...

  Shared by Breanne Smedley It’s a weird thing, really. Most of my life, I have probably looked confident from the outside. Excelled in school and sports. Went to college and played volleyball. Started a great career where I’ve had success. Married, had a baby, worked full time, and co-built a business. Stayed physically fit and active. I have close friends and family members. I am able-bodied and pretty by society's standards. What’s there not to be confident about? In fact, how dare I consider myself to not be confident, given that I have so much? “I’d die to have legs like yours.” “Must be nice…” So, of course, I exuded confidence. Or what I thought it was, at least. Looking good on the outside. Never cracking. Always appearing strong. Vulnerability=weakness. Don’t let them see you struggle. When the thoughts in my head were similar to most women I know. Thoughts like: “I’m not ready yet.” “What will they think?” “What if I fail!” “My body isn’t beautiful.” “I’m not living up to...

  Shared by Breanne Smedley It never fails, when I’m doing some deep cleaning and decluttering, I come across boxes of memories. Photos of Brett and I when we were kids, newspaper clippings of games that our names were mentioned in, special toys from our childhood, baseball cards, and bobbleheads (Brett). Sometimes these things stop me in my tracks, and I spend hours reliving memories (rather than actually cleaning). The other day, I also came across a journal from when Brett and I were dating. We did the long-distance thing for the first three years of our relationship. At some point during that time, we decided to start a journal to each other. One person would write it in, drop it in the mail, then the other person would read, write back, and send it off. I remember always looking forward to getting the mail when I thought Brett had sent the journal. Sometimes I wouldn’t even wait to get back to my apartment to read it. Standing there by the mailbox, trying to decipher his cursi...