...And sometimes the rain is just what the garden needed.
After taking a risk and sharing my reflection yesterday, I have received an overwhelming amount of messages with some of the most kind and humbling words I could ever imagine.
Some of the comments I received:
"I am so proud of you. Proud of you for setting a goal and reaching it and proud of you for being vulnerable enough to share with all of us."
"Every word of that was amazing!!!"
"Even though I was only fortunate enough to know you for a short period of time, I sincerely hope you know that you really inspired me. A lot."
"What an incredibly brave woman you are. Thank you for being so generous with yourself. I have certainly been enriched by reading your story."
"You are a great example of the pursuit of true health, something we should all be striving for."
"But please know that by sharing, you probably not only got a (figurative) weight off of your chest, but are showing other people that it's okay to not be perfect, and that there is nothing wrong with struggling."
And while I am so moved by these words of support from all of the wonderful people in my life, I am more amazed by what they have chosen to share back:
"'How does Briana know so much about me??!' I can't tell you how much your story aligns with my own. Afraid? Hell yes, I'm afraid."
"And just so you are aware and know us 'skinny kids' have all the same emotions and fears from being skinny!!"
"I know how hard it is because my constant companion, fear, is always by my side."
"I think lots of people, myself included, can relate whether it's weight or a different hang up."
"I myself finally accepted going to therapy about a year ago instead of fighting it which I did for years."
"I don't think there was really a particular day when I decided that I was 'too fat,' but sooner rather than later having a few extra pounds turned into not really being worth anything as a person."
As I spent a great deal of yesterday reading these amazing messages, I couldn't help but think about how much we are all experiencing similar things as we sit in silence juggling the world around us. And I began to wonder how something as seemingly small as 1900 words of honesty could make a difference in the world around me. So, again, I felt it was time to share some of the love and returned honesty I was feeling, because now was not the time to be selfish. Now is the time to continue the momentum. So today I leave you all with the following encouragement:
Take a moment. Reach out to someone. You don't have to open yourself up to the world, but open yourself up to someone. Be honest with what you are feeling. Be vulnerable. See what you get in return. You might be amazed that it is just the push you needed to make it over the next hurdle. And maybe the next time it rains, you'll ditch the umbrella and dance in the puddles instead.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
100 Pounds Later
I've been staring at this screen...staring at this keyboard...for days...even for weeks, trying to find the words to express what I'm feeling right now. There is so much happening in my life currently, so much that I want to talk about and process, but I know that I can't let this moment go by without giving it the reflection and the credit that it deserves. Two and a half years ago, I started on a journey to find a better and healthier version of myself, and today, I can sit here and state that I am officially 100 pounds lighter than the day that I started. Actually, in fairness, I am a 102 pounds lighter...but who's counting! It's such a big achievement, but as I said, I'm having a hard time finding the words to express what this means to me. Usually, I'm able to find a creative and articulate way of stringing together words to tell the story of my emotions, but instead, today, I am going to let myself babble my way through this.
Weight. For as long as I can remember, weight has been a major issue in my life. As a child, I spent a lot of time thinking about the concept of "baby fat" and wondering when mine would melt away. As a teenager, I shrunk behind each extra pound, and felt more and more "broken" because somehow I couldn't overcome being heavy. Food provided comfort for every mean thing another kid said to me or every time I felt sad. Both of those things happened frequently, so food became my only comfort. It was safe. It never made me feel badly about who I was. And it helped fill the void of being lonely and having no self-esteem. As a young adult, in college and in my early twenties, these trends continued. But they were compounded with life stresses, like choosing graduate school, writing papers, the loss of friends, paying bills. And through all of this, I was drowning in a sea of no self confidence or self worth. Not to mention, for a person who was fairly successful academically, I was completely uneducated about my own body and wellness, and how so many factors are connected. So all of this, combined with a few health issues that exasperated the issue resulted in me being a fat kid...both physically and mentally.
What does it mean to be fat physically and mentally? Well, physically, it's quite obvious. I was overweight. I've been 5'4" since the sixth grade (that's 1990 for all of you out there who weren't even born then! Yikes!) But as my height stayed the same, my weight continued to grow. I was carrying around way too much weight for my frame. So, physically, I was fat. But being fat mentally is a whole different thing. It's a part of your identity. I've been fat for so long, that it's difficult for me to think of myself any other way. Even today, 102 pounds lighter & 34 years wiser, my trainer called me skinny and I cringed. Skinny? Me? Not possible. I'm a fat kid. I'm a kid who sat in the Ralph's parking lot crying last night because of other life things, who ended up walking into the store to buy cookies. And yes, while I bought Newman-O's instead of Oreo's (organic, whole foods), and I only ate three of them instead of a whole sleeve, I still turned to food when my emotions were saddest. 102 pounds later, I am still mentally a fat kid. I've come a far way, but many of the things that led me to being fat still linger in my mind. They are still a part of my identity; a part that will take a lifetime to change.
And change isn't an easy thing to come by. I've had many people ask me over the past two and a half years, as I've slowly but surely made this change in my life, "how have you done it?" And the simplest answer I have for them is, "It's been a lot of hard work." Because it has. And the work hasn't been just about eating and exercise (though that is a big part of it), but it's also been the work on the inside of me as well. As I tell my students and staff all of the time, I am one of the most openly private people around. That means while I am not likely to tell you every detail of my life, I am pretty open about sharing the overview of my struggles and triumphs. Part of that is therapy. Therapy is a part of my life. A permanent part. It took me 26 years to get myself to swallow my pride and overcome the taboo from society to get myself to a counselor. And while my journey into therapy could be a whole other reflection, I would be remiss if I didn't mention it here because it has been a big part of the work that I've done in losing the weight and getting healthy. It has been the exercise and adjustment to my diet for the mental fat kid, not the physical the fat kid. It has been key in helping me get to a point where I can come face-to-face with my fears, and be strong enough to sit down and share these thoughts with all of you.
Let's be clear, fear is a big part of this. I can feel the fear all the way to the tips of my fingers as I type these words. I keep asking myself, "Am I really going to share this? Can I really put myself out there like this?" And, thanks to years of therapy, I am able to ask myself, "What am I so afraid of?" I'm terrified to admit out loud that I am a fat kid. I've made plenty of jokes at my own expense over the years, but in typical fashion, those jokes were meant to deflect attention. To send a message to the world, "Yea, I know I'm fat. You don't have to make the joke; I'll do it for you." So to actually put it out there to the universe in a serious way feels very vulnerable. It's like taking my guard down and letting folks see the real me. And I'm afraid of failure. It took me two and a half years to lose this weight, but I've previously lost weight before (never this much, but at least part of the weight). And each time, I put it back on. So, admitting to my world that I've lost the weight makes me terrified of swallowing these words in the future if I should put the weight back on. I'm not planning on doing that, and I do believe that this time is different for many reasons, but the fear is still there. What if I fail? What if I really am a permanently fat kid? What does that say about me?
But fear be damned! As terrified as I am, I have promised myself to make this reflection public because if I've learned anything over the years it's that if we share our stories openly and authentically then we help each other out in ways we can never imagine. I work my butt of on a daily basis in my job, and the best feedback that I get from my staff and my students is that I have helped them just by being genuinely me. I remember the first time a student told me that; I think I laughed. How could I have helped them just by being me? Me? I'm a mess! But the truth is, it's owning my mess and owning my journey through life, and this realness apparently has more impact on the people with whom I work than any program or learning outcome I could ever develop. Because of this, I look fear in the face, and I know sharing my path is important. Maybe it's the reason I'm here.
I also think it's important to share my story because there are a lot of people who have helped me along the way. And I truly believe in giving thanks to those in your life. Over the past few weeks, as each pound has melted away, I knew this day was coming. And as I started to think about all of the people who have helped me, I became overwhelmed and humbled. There are some people, like my family, who I could detail how each day they were by my side helping me along. And there are some people who would be shocked if I reached out to them to thank them because they might not even recognize that they helped me along the way. Maybe it was a smile of encouragement or a compliment on a bad day. But whatever it was, however small that gesture might have seemed to them, to me it has made a world of difference. And while I could probably not capture every person and every gesture, the ones that come to mind are important to me to recognize. So, to each of you, big or small, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I am so thankful to each of you.
But I can't wrap up without directly thanking two people who every day go above and beyond to be a support in my life. The first is my best friend. He is more than a friend; he is my family - like a brother. He has been there for me at my worst and at my best. He holds my hand when I am crying and comforts me when I am sad. He challenges me when I am pouting. He has cared for me when I am sick and fought with me when I am mad. Besides my actual brother, there is no one else in the world that I can have fun with and fight with with such unconditional love. Every day, I am reminded how lucky I am that life brought him to me. I am a handful and yet he still is by my side. He truly has taught me what friendship is about. The second person is my mom. There's no one in my life who doesn't know what my mom means to me. This is a woman who is literally my heart. There was never one day of our life together that she didn't demonstrate to me what it means to love whole-heartedly and live life to its fullest. And regardless of how amazing she was, as her daughter, I know there were times when I was a pain in the ass. There was no one I fought more with or took my bad days out on more than my mom. And there was no one I called more to share my triumphs and happiness with than my mom. Even this morning, when I got off the scale, I reached for the phone. There is nothing else I wanted more in the world than to hear her voice and tell her about this milestone. To her, I will forever be thankful for so many things, and especially helping me through becoming healthy.
So, what have I learned through these 100 pounds? If I had to sum it up, I'd say that I've learned that I'm worth it. And that I am so thankful to have people in my life who think I'm worth it, too.
Weight. For as long as I can remember, weight has been a major issue in my life. As a child, I spent a lot of time thinking about the concept of "baby fat" and wondering when mine would melt away. As a teenager, I shrunk behind each extra pound, and felt more and more "broken" because somehow I couldn't overcome being heavy. Food provided comfort for every mean thing another kid said to me or every time I felt sad. Both of those things happened frequently, so food became my only comfort. It was safe. It never made me feel badly about who I was. And it helped fill the void of being lonely and having no self-esteem. As a young adult, in college and in my early twenties, these trends continued. But they were compounded with life stresses, like choosing graduate school, writing papers, the loss of friends, paying bills. And through all of this, I was drowning in a sea of no self confidence or self worth. Not to mention, for a person who was fairly successful academically, I was completely uneducated about my own body and wellness, and how so many factors are connected. So all of this, combined with a few health issues that exasperated the issue resulted in me being a fat kid...both physically and mentally.
What does it mean to be fat physically and mentally? Well, physically, it's quite obvious. I was overweight. I've been 5'4" since the sixth grade (that's 1990 for all of you out there who weren't even born then! Yikes!) But as my height stayed the same, my weight continued to grow. I was carrying around way too much weight for my frame. So, physically, I was fat. But being fat mentally is a whole different thing. It's a part of your identity. I've been fat for so long, that it's difficult for me to think of myself any other way. Even today, 102 pounds lighter & 34 years wiser, my trainer called me skinny and I cringed. Skinny? Me? Not possible. I'm a fat kid. I'm a kid who sat in the Ralph's parking lot crying last night because of other life things, who ended up walking into the store to buy cookies. And yes, while I bought Newman-O's instead of Oreo's (organic, whole foods), and I only ate three of them instead of a whole sleeve, I still turned to food when my emotions were saddest. 102 pounds later, I am still mentally a fat kid. I've come a far way, but many of the things that led me to being fat still linger in my mind. They are still a part of my identity; a part that will take a lifetime to change.
And change isn't an easy thing to come by. I've had many people ask me over the past two and a half years, as I've slowly but surely made this change in my life, "how have you done it?" And the simplest answer I have for them is, "It's been a lot of hard work." Because it has. And the work hasn't been just about eating and exercise (though that is a big part of it), but it's also been the work on the inside of me as well. As I tell my students and staff all of the time, I am one of the most openly private people around. That means while I am not likely to tell you every detail of my life, I am pretty open about sharing the overview of my struggles and triumphs. Part of that is therapy. Therapy is a part of my life. A permanent part. It took me 26 years to get myself to swallow my pride and overcome the taboo from society to get myself to a counselor. And while my journey into therapy could be a whole other reflection, I would be remiss if I didn't mention it here because it has been a big part of the work that I've done in losing the weight and getting healthy. It has been the exercise and adjustment to my diet for the mental fat kid, not the physical the fat kid. It has been key in helping me get to a point where I can come face-to-face with my fears, and be strong enough to sit down and share these thoughts with all of you.
Let's be clear, fear is a big part of this. I can feel the fear all the way to the tips of my fingers as I type these words. I keep asking myself, "Am I really going to share this? Can I really put myself out there like this?" And, thanks to years of therapy, I am able to ask myself, "What am I so afraid of?" I'm terrified to admit out loud that I am a fat kid. I've made plenty of jokes at my own expense over the years, but in typical fashion, those jokes were meant to deflect attention. To send a message to the world, "Yea, I know I'm fat. You don't have to make the joke; I'll do it for you." So to actually put it out there to the universe in a serious way feels very vulnerable. It's like taking my guard down and letting folks see the real me. And I'm afraid of failure. It took me two and a half years to lose this weight, but I've previously lost weight before (never this much, but at least part of the weight). And each time, I put it back on. So, admitting to my world that I've lost the weight makes me terrified of swallowing these words in the future if I should put the weight back on. I'm not planning on doing that, and I do believe that this time is different for many reasons, but the fear is still there. What if I fail? What if I really am a permanently fat kid? What does that say about me?
But fear be damned! As terrified as I am, I have promised myself to make this reflection public because if I've learned anything over the years it's that if we share our stories openly and authentically then we help each other out in ways we can never imagine. I work my butt of on a daily basis in my job, and the best feedback that I get from my staff and my students is that I have helped them just by being genuinely me. I remember the first time a student told me that; I think I laughed. How could I have helped them just by being me? Me? I'm a mess! But the truth is, it's owning my mess and owning my journey through life, and this realness apparently has more impact on the people with whom I work than any program or learning outcome I could ever develop. Because of this, I look fear in the face, and I know sharing my path is important. Maybe it's the reason I'm here.
I also think it's important to share my story because there are a lot of people who have helped me along the way. And I truly believe in giving thanks to those in your life. Over the past few weeks, as each pound has melted away, I knew this day was coming. And as I started to think about all of the people who have helped me, I became overwhelmed and humbled. There are some people, like my family, who I could detail how each day they were by my side helping me along. And there are some people who would be shocked if I reached out to them to thank them because they might not even recognize that they helped me along the way. Maybe it was a smile of encouragement or a compliment on a bad day. But whatever it was, however small that gesture might have seemed to them, to me it has made a world of difference. And while I could probably not capture every person and every gesture, the ones that come to mind are important to me to recognize. So, to each of you, big or small, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I am so thankful to each of you.
But I can't wrap up without directly thanking two people who every day go above and beyond to be a support in my life. The first is my best friend. He is more than a friend; he is my family - like a brother. He has been there for me at my worst and at my best. He holds my hand when I am crying and comforts me when I am sad. He challenges me when I am pouting. He has cared for me when I am sick and fought with me when I am mad. Besides my actual brother, there is no one else in the world that I can have fun with and fight with with such unconditional love. Every day, I am reminded how lucky I am that life brought him to me. I am a handful and yet he still is by my side. He truly has taught me what friendship is about. The second person is my mom. There's no one in my life who doesn't know what my mom means to me. This is a woman who is literally my heart. There was never one day of our life together that she didn't demonstrate to me what it means to love whole-heartedly and live life to its fullest. And regardless of how amazing she was, as her daughter, I know there were times when I was a pain in the ass. There was no one I fought more with or took my bad days out on more than my mom. And there was no one I called more to share my triumphs and happiness with than my mom. Even this morning, when I got off the scale, I reached for the phone. There is nothing else I wanted more in the world than to hear her voice and tell her about this milestone. To her, I will forever be thankful for so many things, and especially helping me through becoming healthy.
So, what have I learned through these 100 pounds? If I had to sum it up, I'd say that I've learned that I'm worth it. And that I am so thankful to have people in my life who think I'm worth it, too.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Night Swimming
As always, my mind has been spinning with thoughts these days. I wake up in the morning with a ton of things on my mind, and this continues until I am laying in bed at night trying to wind down. With every breath, I'm considering things that need to be done at work, the path in which my life is headed, steps I can take to be a better version of me, ways in which I can help my friends, items that need to be checked off my to do list, places that I want to visit, people that I want to see. The thoughts are endless. Many times a day, I begin to "write" some sort of reflection or observation to share, but before I get time to sit down and put those thoughts into a coherent sentence, I'm already bogged down by my next thought and too tired to muster up the energy to sort back through my mind to recreate the ideas that I was so excited to process. So instead, I lay in bed wondering how another day went by without allowing myself some space to write, to talk, to get out of my head. Which might be why I have spent so much of life externally quiet and internally loud. I haven't quite found a time, place or person to let me take the time and just release some of what is floating around in this brain of mine. And sometimes, I am swimming in it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)