A New Year, A New Chapter

As the new year approaches I find myself doing the cliché thing of considering what my personal goals and expectations are in the next year. I used to do the typical "New Year's Resolution" and pretty much always failed at least 3 or 4 months into the new year. So for the past several years my only resolution has been to "love myself".  

I knew in my heart that a goal of that magnitude was a lofty one and would potentially take years to achieve. But as I set this goal for myself I also resolved to be patient about it. I know that to destroy is quick and simple, but to rebuild something...that takes time, hard work, and dedication. 

It's been a roller coaster, but I suppose that's just the way life is. Except that, for some of us, the slope down can be as deep as the depths of hell. The past couple years in particular were quite difficult for me. A huge life change sent me, unexpectedly, into a deep dark place and I was afraid I wouldn't find my way out this time. I learned some things about myself that were both troubling and hard to accept, but at the same time have provided me with answers to questions I've had about myself for a very long time. And in this epiphany, if you will, I found hope.

And because of yoga, running, a deeply devoted husband, amazing friends, and my family, I survived the deep dark. There aren't words to describe my relief; that I can look back now and rejoice in the fact that I am not where I was before. That I am breathing, seeing, touching, and actually feeling something other than despair. I have found my way back to joy. It will be a battle I will likely fight my whole life as I have been to the deep dark many times already. My most recent visit though might have been one of the scariest and had it not been for my desperate attempt to hold on for the sake of my son...well I might not be writing this. That was a scary place to be and I really don't want to visit it ever again. 

So as I face this next year I consider what else I want to improve of myself, and honestly, I think that at this point I'm old enough to "just keep swimming". What I mean is that I kind of just have the same goals every year, but just want more of the same, to improve on the things I'm already focusing on. I know I want to continue my practice in yoga and running. Those two things have become my life force. They are like drugs. I find myself euphoric after a run and yoga centers me and calms the fire within. I need them as much as a diabetic needs insulin. 

Here are my other "resolutions":

I want to continue to work on being more empathetic and having unconditional positive regard for others. Sometimes I find myself getting lost in the rush of daily life and forget to consider that the guy who parked inches away from my car door, probably (hopefully) didn't do it to just intentionally be an ass. Or the lady checking me out at Walmart who seems extraordinarily slow and apathetic. I could be annoyed and angry with her for her sloth-like movement, but maybe she's upset about something, or maybe she doesn't feel the best and doesn't want to be at work. Or the waitress who seems to keep forgetting my drink and hasn't really checked in much. Maybe she's preoccupied with grief or is lost in a flurry of worried thoughts and isn't doing her job as well as she typically does. It's important to try to see things from a different view and to try to avoid the negative fundamental attribution error. Just be kind and remember how you'd want to be treated if you were in a state of distress or just made a mistake. 

I want to keep trying to remember to see people. It makes me sad to observe so often that many people treats others as though they are not really there, not a person with a story, not a human with feelings. I find it extraordinarily powerful when I look someone in the eye and give them a genuine smile or use their name. They light up in front of me and I am reminded that it's much more important for me to do what I can to make them feel seen and appreciated than it is for me to gain a few minutes in my day. In the rush of life I sometimes forget that other people are as human as I am and most are not jerks. Of course there are some people out there who really are jerks, but I will continue to work on not taking their actions personally. Most people who treat others poorly do so because they aren't happy themselves or have some internal struggle that makes them bitter and sour. I won't let them bring me down. 

I want to continue to challenge myself to be open-minded and listen. For the most part I feel like I am a pretty good listener. Not always, I'll admit. Sometimes I get lost inside my own mind and don't hear or listen to those who need me to. I can be dismissive at times. I suppose it's okay for me to be that way sometimes as any individual sometimes needs to just worry about themselves for a span in order to deal with whatever it is they are dealing with. And sometimes my emotional response to certain things will cloud my ability to be a good listener or to be open-minded. 

I want to continue to work on improving my patience and dulling my fierce temper. This is probably the hardest one (aside from trying to swear less). Yoga has actually helped me quite a bit in area. Ally Hamilton's classes in particular always come with some inspirational, therapeutic, fortune cookie type message and somehow I always pick the perfect one for exactly what I need that day (I know I talk about her a lot, and that might annoy some readers, but she has helped me unknowingly in ways I never dreamed possible for my life...so #sorrynotsorry!). Learning to breathe has been one of the hardest and most powerful things for me. And her books, Yoga's Healing Power: Looking Inward for Change, Growth, and Peace and Open Randomly: Fortune Cookies for the Soul) have also been incredibly helpful as well as inspirational for me. (I might be kind of in love with her. haha)

As I continue to age and mature I find that I care less and less about what people think of me. At least in the sense of aesthetics (what people think about how I look, dress, or how many tattoos I have...etc.), my personal life choices, how I choose to raise my child, and the things I value, believe in, or don't believe in. In that regard I really don't care what people think. However, I do still care on other, more broad levels what people think of me. I don't want people to think of me as mean, spiteful, or disingenuous. I don't want people to think I am unkind or untrustworthy. So, I guess on some level I do care what people think of me. But I could be Ghandi-like and some people would still think me lesser and spit at my feet. So, I won't fret over other people's opinions of me, particularly if they hardly know me at all. 

In general, I want the same thing for the coming year that I wanted last year, the year before that, and for all my years from this day forward; to be a person I won't regret being when I face the end, to be someone that people will miss and have fond memories of, to be someone who wove goodness into the world and the lives of others, and to have lived a life that I can be proud of. 

Letting Go

Someone said to me the other day that they thought "letting go" meant to stop loving someone. I kindly informed them that this is not the case. But it sent me into some deep thoughts, and I thought I might share them with you. The Christmas season tends to spark my dwelling on things like this anyway.

I guess I am old enough now to be "wise", but I think I have always been considered "wise beyond my years". That kind of comes as a side dish with a dysfunctional childhood and trauma, I suppose. But yes...I guess I am wise, because I know this sort of heartache. The kind that never really ever goes away. It's like a cramp in your soul. A kink in your spirit. A scar on your heart. It never heals completely really. It never goes away. 

"Letting go" may quite possibly be one of the hardest things to do. Letting go of someone because of death...letting go of someone because the relationship you have with them is poisonous... That shit is hard. And, in a sense, you never really let go. Not truly. You let go enough to be able to survive. You let go enough to move forward. You let go enough...but never completely. 

My first real "letting go" was when I lost my grandfather. He was so much to me. He was everything. He wasn't supposed to die so soon. And I still think of him pretty much every day. I can still hear his voice in my mind. I still know his smell. Sometimes in my dreams he visits me and I get to hear him call out my name again. He's always there to encourage me, to push me to be my best, to scold me when I have completely fucked up. But I thank him for that. He was special. 

I "let go" of my fathers at different times. I let go of my bio dad when I was around 13. He was never the father I wanted. Never there. Never showing me how he cared or that he even really knew I existed. I was forced to let go of my step-father. That one was hard. He has struggled for years and years with substance abuse and it finally got to a point where I just couldn't handle picking him up off the floor anymore. My heart couldn't take it. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't watch him kill himself. 

But letting go of those people doesn't mean I ever stopped loving them. Not in the least. I still love my step dad with great ferocity. He was my real dad. He was the one who showed up...at least for a while. He was the one who picked me up and mended my skinned knees. He was the one who was "there". He means a lot to me. And now that I am older I understand what it means to let go, but still love. Because I always have that door open for him to come back. I will never stop hoping for him to walk through it. I understand that he is a slave to his own faults and I understand how hard it is to overcome them. But he is and will always be my "Daddy".

Letting go doesn't mean you stop loving them, not always. Sometimes it does. But often that is not the case. And when you face this kind of challenge it isn't easy, and it never really becomes easy. You just sort of go on with life and in time it just becomes a part of you. A dull longing. Something that doesn't hurt quite as much as the initial cut, but still hurts in a way. And you hold it, like a firefly in your hands, with great care and delicacy. You hold it, because in the end...you sort of never really let go. Not completely. 

What Do You Want To Dream About Tonight?

It just occurred to me that whenever my son has trouble settling down at night, whether because of typical childhood fears, or not getting enough attention that day, or a major routine change, the magic words that always seem to bring him to serenity are "What do you want to dream about tonight?".

His focus begins to shift to some of his favorite things in life...Grams, candy canes, Santa, the marble game, Christmas (these are the things on his list right now). And suddenly he relaxes. He focuses on the positives instead of the creepy shadow that his curtains are making. He goes to bed thinking of the things he is most thankful for.

It's simple really. Just remembering the things you are thankful for every night. But somehow we, as adults, we forget. We forget to be thankful for the little things. We forget to think positively and remember that no matter how stormy life gets, there are rainbows.

It's something I forget to do more often than I'd like to admit. I suppose our kids teach us almost as much as we teach them.

The Pursuit of Happiness: A Journey Toward Self Love

Every Journey Starts With A Single Step

For the record, I believe, that a journey like this never really ends. Well, when I die it will end I suppose, but in the spirit of focusing more on the positive aspects of this concept we will just ignore that truth for right now.

Learning to love ones self might be one of our greatest life challenges. At least, I know it has been for me, and I can think of a number of women and men who can relate for certain. It is a long and arduous journey, but worth it. Sometimes it helps to hear a little anecdote about someone else's journey. It might be the one thing that sparks hope inside your heart and pushes toward active pursuit of happiness.

My story begins around age 1. As in most stories of personal growth, it typically starts with pain. At this young age I was already beginning a path of pain and heartache. I don't remember the details (I was only 1 after all...), but around this age was when my mother decided it was time to leave an abusive relationship with my biological father only to fall into the arms of another man who became emotionally and sometimes physically abusive as well. So, you could say my journey starts with abandonment. The people I needed most in my life to be there, to love me unconditionally, well they weren't there. My mom did her best, and she did enough to counteract some of the harms caused, but it wasn't enough. My biological father disappeared from my life and later only became a part of it because he wouldn't have to pay child support while I was visiting. He was mean and mostly made me feel like my existence was as annoying as a fly buzzing in your face. He was an alcoholic and very abusive both emotionally and physically towards his romantic partners/wives. He was never directly mean to me or abusive, but his overall tone of "God I wish I didn't have to deal with you" kind of set the tone for how I felt he felt about me. He forgot my birthdays. He did not call. And like a foolish child, I longed for his love. I yearned for him to care about me...to validate that my existence meaningful and important. I yearned for his love until I was about 13. Then at that point I gave up.

Meanwhile, my step-father started out as a pretty decent guy. He cared about me when I was little and treated me like I was his own child. He and my mother got married and went on to have two more children. Over the years, he progressively became a giant asshole. He too was an alcoholic and extremely emotionally abusive. I longed for his approval. He told me I was fat all the time and teased me about the way I looked. When I actually did have something I felt confident about (like singing) he always found some fault in it. I became a perfectionist who was terrified of failure. Because the message I had been given for the majority of my life was "If you aren't perfect you are worth nothing and no one can love you". I spent most of my childhood depressed and angry. I wasn't a nice girl. I was mean, a bully, and hateful. I cried a lot and screamed often. I don't remember many happy things at all. I want to. I don't know if I just don't remember them or they just weren't there.

I spent a lot of time hating myself and being critical. I would stand in front of the mirror on a daily basis just hating myself. I would say things to myself that I would never ever say to another human being. I would cry. Like really cry.

This self-hate and absence of confidence impacted all aspects of my life. I made terrible choices in relationships. I believe no one would ever really love me so I would sabotage things sometimes to fulfill my own prophecy of being unworthy and force people to abandon me. I avoided trying new things for fear of failure. I was easily manipulated and taken advantage of. And I spent a lot of time in my head worrying about what other people thought of me.

My mom always tried to tell me that I was perfect just the way I was. That I was good inside and kind. That I was worthy of love. But I never believed her. And it even got to the point where I would get angry and lash out at her if she even tried to convince me of these things. I could not believe them. There was too much evidence to the contrary. But I must say now that I am so glad she kept trying to convince me...because it was this small voice deep down inside, screaming as loud as possible, that helped me find my footing eventually and guided me (albeit very slowly) toward loving myself.

It's really kind of sad to put in perspective exactly how much of my life I have spent hating myself. 25 years of loathing. 25 years. If I live to be 100, that's a quarter of my life.

The pivot point for me began in graduate college. Grad school can make or break you, not just academically, but emotionally as well. It most certainly put me to the test in just about every way possible. It was the biggest challenge to my self-doubt that I had ever really faced.

I chose a helping profession so in that I began attending classes to learn how to provide counseling support for future students. Little did I know that it would change me in ways I never dreamed. My first real challenge came in an unlikely place...group counseling class. I don't remember exactly how it came about, but there was an activity where the group wrote a note to someone else in the group saying positive things about them. None of these people knew me, I mean not really. We were acquaintances sharing a class together. We barely knew each other at all. But the words written on that little blue post-it note hit my heart like a freight train. This person didn't know me from Adam, but somehow she was able to see positive things in me and about me that I refused to recognize for myself. This was the first crack in my self-made, hateful armor. I kept that post-it note on my vanity mirror for several years after that. I vowed to keep it up there until I believed with my own heart that those words about me were true. It stayed on my mirror for 7 years.

Evolving from the person I was to the person I am now was not easy, and clearly it was not fast. But I was committed to finding true happiness, and I knew the only way to find that was to fall in love with the most important person in my life...me.

Finding Solace in Fitness

My journey of fitness started with the desire to lose weight. This, in my humble opinion, is the wrong way to approach it. If this is the reason you lose weight and you only do it when you feel fat, then you are going to be riding that awful roller coaster for a long time my friend. And I assure you, it is not thrilling in the least. I found that it actually made me feel worse about myself. I was always starting over and in doing so always seeming to myself like I am a failure. Mix in with that roller coaster some very unhealthy eating (or not eating) habits and you're really in for a rough ride. It isn't fun, fulfilling, or rewarding. I don't recommend this approach.

I was a size 5 once. "Skinny fat" is what I've heard it called. I took ephedrine and pretty much lived on Starbucks and booze. I counted calories, not nutrition. i was skinny, and rather gorgeous (if I might say so myself), but I only looked good on the outside. On the inside I was a wreck with self-hate and suffocating self-hate. Then my grandfather died. My heart shattered and I fell into a downward spiral of bingeing and depression. I gained a lot of weight very quickly (it is much easier to gain it than it is to lose).

I really don't know for certain the exact day I began to look at my body and not hate it. Sure I was overweight, but at some point I stopped caring about that. Not in the sense that I just "let myself go" but in the sense that I could look at my chubs and not crumble with despair. I looked at them and thought to myself, "I am in control of this. It is not in control of me. And I will not be defined by my body."

When I got pregnant I got HUGE! I was already overweight then I packed on a baby and shit ton of amniotic fluid. I approached 200 pounds. I was terrified. I could not let myself go past that number. I just couldn't.

During my pregnancy I was also blessed with gestational diabetes (GD). This was sort of a wake-up call for me. I learned that women who have GD are 50% (50%!!) more likely to develop full on diabetes in the future if they do not care for themselves. During my pregnancy, with GD, I was forced to eat healthy and have a restricted diet. I did it for my child. I did it for me. And I discovered...it really isn't all that bad. Eating healthier made me feel better both emotionally and physically. It also altered my palette, so the less healthy foods became less appealing to me.

After the birth of my son I did the ever so painful Insanity program by Shaun T (who is freaking awesome btw). I also started doing yoga.

Now, yoga is special to me. The first time I did a class with Ally Hamilton (who is one of the most amazing humans on Earth...in my opinion) and it was like she knew my heart. She spoke to me in savasana and I wept. She hit me right in the feels. I have been in love with her and the practice ever since. Yoga does more for me than nurture my physical self, but it also nurtures my soul. Each minute I spend with my mat is a minute of exhalation. All the tightness in my heart is let loose. I breathe. I feel. I challenge myself. I stretch. It is sort of a spiritual experience for me as well as a natural drug. It has become part of my life. It's not just something I've picked up that I'll do until I hit that size 5 again (which is probably not very likely to happen since I now actually have muscle mass instead of just squishies). It is important to me. I make time for it. I need it.

Then there's running. Oh god I love running. I started running about 5 years ago because stress was causing me to have panic attacks again and I needed an outlet. I'm a bottler. I tend to stuff my stress down until there's no more room and I just explode with rage. So, instead of stuffing, I began running. Running got me out in nature (which is also cathartic for me), it wasn't stationary and dull, and, like yoga, became a drug. After a good run I feel like a great weight has been lifted. I feel alive. I feel young. I feel focused and inspired (in fact, this post was inspired by my morning run today!). Running makes me feel good. I can continually challenge myself and I get to feel accomplished. And WOW what a feeling that is. After doing my first fun run this fall I felt like I was on top of the world. I can do anything!

Fitness has become my therapy. Well, one of them anyway. I struggle with a lot of issues in addition to self-loathing and doubt so I have a lot of coping practices in my little bag of tricks, which is actually really important for anyone. This way, if you are for some reason unable to use one of your favorite coping activities, you can do a different one and still get the relief you need.

Sometimes I Slip

The other day I was getting ready to take my son somewhere and my hair was not cooperating so I threw it up in a bun, which also was not cooperating. I didn't feel super thrilled with the result and started having negative thoughts, criticizing how I looked and how others might look at me and judge me negatively. I caught myself and said out loud, "No, you stop that! You don't care what those people think about your damn hair. You are more than just your hair so knock it off. You know better than that." I talk to myself out loud a lot when I need a good pep talk or scolding. It works for me. I'm not ashamed. 

But the bottom line here is that I am human. And as a human I am inherently riddled with flaws. But those flaws are what makes me me. Sometimes I slip, fall, stumble...but as long as I get back up again and hold my head up high I am going to be ok. I remind myself all the time that what I say to myself should be the same as what I would say to a stranger, to my son, and to people I love. Loving myself is just as important as loving anyone else. In fact, it might be even more important. Because I truly believe that when you do not love yourself, you approach life and its situations in a completely different way. The language becomes "I can" instead of "I can't"; "I'll try." instead of "I'm too afraid to fail to try."; "I am worthy of love and being treated with respect and dignity." instead of "I deserve this punishment and no one can love me."

To Be Continued

This journey of self-discovery and self-love doesn't end. At least it won't for me. I'll never stop trying to better myself. I'll never give up on myself ever again. And while I walk this path it is my hope that I will greet others along the way, and they will join me on their own journey to fall in love with the most important person in their life; themselves.

I Am More

     Motherhood is most definitely one of the best "jobs" I have ever had. At the same time, being a mommy (especially a SAHM) can make one feel as though they have lost themselves or become invisible in a way. We are always so busy taking care of our littles that we don't often get the opportunity to be seen by others as something other than just a mom. As a working mom, I hated having to leave my son, but I also really loved being able to have adult conversations and be appreciated for the work I did. It made me feel good to feel as though I was doing something important (not that being a mom isn't important, but typically no one makes an effort to show us we are appreciated).
     This year I have finally been able to sneak in some time for me to do things I want to do like volunteer. It's really the only sort of thing that I can do because right now my schedule doesn't have much flexibility. I'd have to find a sitter that will watch him for free so that can be a challenge. The first day I volunteered at our local children's museum I broke down in tears on my way home. Why? Well, besides the fact that I am a very emotional person, I finally felt like someone saw me. Like really saw me. I finally had conversations that weren't solely about my son with other adults that seemed to appreciate my presence. It made my heart swell with joy.
     I'm probably in my final year of being a SAHM. My son will begin preschool so I will have to go back to work at least part time. I'm trying to do as much volunteering as I can. It's kind of become a bit of an addiction. I feel useful. People are nice to me. I get to work with kiddos a little bit. Well, actually, the most interaction with kiddos I've had so far is when I volunteered to be the check-in lady at the holiday event. Otherwise, I've mostly just done crafting projects, but I love being helpful so it's totally cool with me.
     In any case, I know the ladies at the museum have no idea how much it means to me that they allow me to come do their bidding for a few hours here and there. But it means a great deal. It makes me feel like a person again. Like I'm still useful. Not just a housewife or a mom, but something a little bit more.