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.

Runaway

Fight or flight.  In my case, I always seem to lean toward flight.  I am having one of those days when I can't get the idea of running away out of my head.  The only problem with this is that wherever I run, I'm still there.  And I'm beginning to think it's me that's the problem.

32.  32 years I've been me.  And while I can't say that I've spent 32 years trying to work out my issues, I can say that I've spent at least six solid years working on mending my insides and at least another three years painfully self-aware.  So when days like today roll around, and all I can think about is how alone I feel or how I can't shake this never-ending funk, all I want to do is runaway and start over.  But, I know that doesn't work.  Because, again....alas, there I am!

This is typically when the spinning begins.  My mind begins spinning into a fury of "bleh" because I know that I can't runaway and that I can't seem to make progress where I am.  So that makes me feel stuck.  And as much fun as it is to feel like I'm sitting around with a broken heart, I'm growing tired of the cycle.

I realize this is pretty dramatic for a Saturday night blog, but the fact that it's Saturday night, and I am sitting alone surrounded by tissues (and not from my runny nose, this time) and pondering jobs far, far away, I couldn't help but be honest about what was running through my mind.

Sunday Silence

After a long hiatus from blogging, I sit here in front of the screen and think about all of the thoughts going through my head that I'd like to pontificate about. And, like most times when my mind is moving faster than the world around me, I feel a little overwhelmed about where to begin. So why not begin right here? In this moment.

This feeling of so much to say, so little time is a big part of what has kept me away from the blog recently. The more days that past without doing a little writing, the more I had to say. And the more I had to say, the more time I knew it would take me to say it. And the more time I needed, the less time I felt like I had. So, this endless circle spiraled me into an imaginary wall that blocked my path to written reflection. And now, as I try to break down that wall, I'm trying to remind myself that sometimes you don't need to "go big or go home." Sometimes, you just need to go.

So here I am. Going. And it has been a busy few weeks...almost two months now. At work, I sometimes feel almost robotic. I have an endless to do list, which doesn't really overwhelm me, but I do feel like I have just enough time to get things done, but not as much time to give anything extra. This has been a theme for me over the last year and a half. In the beginning, I spent a lot of time feeling guilty for what I wasn't doing, rather than considering what I was doing. I have now tried shifting my perspective. And this has been fairly successful. I think I have grown to understand how my role has changed, which helps me understand why I have less time for some things and need to make more time for others.

The more difficult part of this has been trying to help my staff understand this shift without them feeling like I care any less about them. This is the hard part, and the part that most frequently leaves me pondering how I am letting them down. I've had great supervisors, and I've had bleh supervisors. The great ones are the ones who have supported me when I most needed it, challenged me when I needed a swift kick in the butt and cared about me the same throughout it all. They are the ones who helped me determine what I wanted to be like as a supervisor. Recently, I spend a lot of time worrying about how I'm not living up to my own standard.

But the bigger standard that I have trouble meeting is the one that I have set for myself personally. This is a journey that I know will be a lifetime battle for myself. And probably using the word battle isn't entirely fair to process. I believe in life as a journey, continuously exploring the world around you and your role in it. And sometimes that journey isn't about dueling it out (with yourself or others)...sometimes it's just a leisurely stroll. But either way, it is a journey, and one that I am actively pursuing.

These past few months have offered up a timeless tradition in my life: Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. While this is typically only applied to weddings, I think it is also a good fit for many of the things I've been focused on recently.

Something Old: What can I say? I'm like a broken record when it comes to relationships with friends. Sometimes I wonder if I cherish my friendships too much? Hold them to too high of a standard? Because so many times do I find myself feeling hurt or isolated from people I love. To me, relationships seem like a no-brainer. You care about someone? Then call them. Spend time together. Laugh. Talk. Share what's happening in your life. Listen to what's happening in theirs. Fight. Work it out. I realize that not everyone deals with people in the same manner, but I am still shocked when I find myself in a situation where someone I care about seems so distant, and I have no idea how that happened. Once upon a time, I would've fought to close the gap. Call. Write. Name what I'm feeling and perceiving so that we can put it all behind us. The problem is I have been burned too many times by people not willing to reach back. So I've become jaded. Tired. I feel like I shouldn't always have to be the bigger person. I was having part of this conversation with a friend yesterday, and he said, "Extend an olive branch." And my knee-jerk reaction was, "Why am I always the one extending especially when I'm not the one who put up the wall?" The logical side of me knows that is a silly counter argument since I believe in communication and friendship, so maybe that's why I need to be the extender. But the emotional side of me is tired. And maybe a little confused about who is worth fighting for.

Something New: While health has always been a concern in my life, 2010 has brought this to a new level. I have been exploring my own health in new ways for months and months now. I am in and out of doctors appointments, and trying to get myself in a place that will help me live a different kind of life. More energy. Less aches. This has been such a roller coaster of emotion...scary decisions, honest truths, relearning habits. And even as I type this, the unknown of it all seems terrifying. The other new part to this is my own ability to break down my walls and let others in to my fear. Somewhere along the line, I learned to never show others what I'm feeling in fear that I would push them away with my imperfections. Or that they wouldn't care, and then I'd feel more hurt. But I feel tremendously grateful for the few people who I have been able to truly and openly talk to about this whole process, and who have really been there for me in return. It's helped me learn a lot about the level to which others care about me.

Something Borrowed: I've had many a therapist tell me that I can't take on the world's problems, and while I have made major progress (*salutes* Major Progress!) in this arena, I don't think I will ever be able to feel nothing about what my loved ones are experiencing. And truthfully, I wouldn't want to. That is such a huge part of who I am and how I define my life. I care about others, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for the people I love. And truthfully, I don't see this as a bad thing. So, when my mom is feeling sick from the chemo or my dad is feeling left out of family news or Kayla is having problems with friends at school or AJ is worried about what's next or Elyse is freaking out about the quals or Yas is feeling overwhelmed with empathy...well, let's just say it's hard for me to not feel what they're feeling. And I mean truly feel that emotion. Fortunately, I've learned that I don't need to solve these problems because sometimes it's enough to just recognize what they're feeling and be there to listen when they need it. But these are still the borrowed journeys that I am privileged enough to walk.

Something Blue: My judicial assistant at UMass used to leave me notes above my monitor that said, "Beat the funk!" This always made me smile and helped when I was having those days or weeks when I just couldn't shake the blues...or the funk. The last week has been one of those weeks for me. And the majority of the time, I haven't been able to pinpoint the source of this "ugh," but last night, I do think I had a mini-epiphany that gave me some insight into the feeling. Regardless, I still have these periods when that negative feeling just crawls into the pit of my stomach and takes up residency until I can figure out a way to evict it. And feeling this way makes it so much easier for me to hide from the world.

So this sums up where my mind has been the past few weeks, and what has been building up to stand between me and the blog. Maybe now that I've finally broken through and done some typing, it'll be easier for me to remember that I don't need an "all or nothing" entry. Even just a random thought by Briana is good enough. Because if nothing else, sharing a few of the thoughts in my head really helps me enjoy the silence of an early Sunday morning more when there is less noise in my head.

Anti-productive Therapy

I've been waiting for over 15 minutes for my therapist. At 6pm, she came out and said she'd just be a minute. Now I'm frustrated and more stressed than I was when I arrived. Isn't this counterintuitive? I think she should pay me for this session.

A Blogging Dry Spell

After having been so good about blogging fairly regularly since learning about NaBloPoMo, I've been on a bit of a dry spell for almost two weeks. But, this dry spell is not due to lack of things to say. In fact, most nights, as I crawled into my bed, I had lots of thoughts and ideas in my mind to blog about. It was the energy to pick up the computer and create articulate sentences that I was lacking. But today, after therapy, I realized that I had been slipping back into some of my "letting inertia win" habits. So, here I am. Blogging. Fighting inertia one word at a time.

I might also be slightly inspired by the Olympics. I've been watching these athletes night after night fight for the gold in their respective sports. And, much like I ponder when watching the Biggest Loser, I can't help but laugh at the irony of me sitting on my ass watching other people be active. And since physical activity is not something that comes easy to me, I figured the least I could do for myself was to exercise my mind. And I guess exercise my fingers a little too with all of the typing.

Mondays Suck

Today was definitely a Monday.

I set my alarm to go to the gym this morning. The only problem is that I didn't turn the alarm on. So instead of getting up at 6:45 to workout, I got up at 8:15 and couldn't believe I overslept. In a moment of frustration, I slammed my head back down on the pillow and before I knew it, it was 10am! Well, that's no way to start the week.

So, I flew out of bed and ran to the bathroom to begin getting ready for work. The minute I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I was horrified. Who was that staring back at me? She was old and hideous! She made me want to cry. But I had no time for a break down given that I'd already overslept. So, I continued getting ready, and tried to ignore the second need for a break down once I got to my closet and realized that I had nothing to wear because I no longer fit into anything.

Once out the door, I was pondering the horrible start to the day when I realized I had forgotten my sunglasses. Me? Without sunglasses? Unheard of! But, given how crappy a day it was, I couldn't be too surprised.

So, I trudge into my office and immediately try to get in work mode. When my first 1:1 shows up, she asks how my day is going. Not one for being the "fine" kind of generic responder, I let her know that it's been a rough morning. Her response, "are you seeing someone for your low self-esteem issues?" Wow. Now, this is a staff member who I already don't think likes me too much, so for her to be pondering my need to mental health assistance, I had to wonder if it was out of concern or annoyance. I assured her I was deep into years of therapy, and continued about my day. I had a small reprieve from the grind when my afternoon meeting was cancelled, allowing me a chance to sneak over to the Lair for some lunch. When I got there, I was given a pissy shoulder by one of my friends for being a no show at the gym that morning. I tried not to take it too personally, but the truth is, I couldn't help it.

Later, as I was retelling all of this to AJ, he told me he wished I had told him I was in such a bad mood before he agreed to go program shopping with me. I know he was kidding, which is the only reason I didn't kill him. Although, at one point, he was concerned that I might strangle a random person in the mall for now reason.

I made my way back to campus with a few good purchases and feeling a little better about the end of my day. I got home, finished laundry and got my Christmas tree up and almost decorated. I also spent a lot of good QT with Carmen working on her resume and cover letter. Just when I was thinking that the day was ending on a good note, I got a text message from one of my staff asking me why I wasn't at her staff meeting. F*@K!! I totally forgot. Ugh. One more reason for her to dislike me.

So that was that. A definite Monday.