Let Me Tell You About This Gal

11 months ago (or 334 days to be precise) I set out on a journey of discovery. I began trusting heart whispers of "Give It A Try" and now awe and gratitude have become beautiful companions. And today, as I head into the final month before I reach a year with my dietary choices, I want to honor what was, what is and what will be. 

Let me tell you about this gal, the woman that I was and will always be. The gal on the left side of the screen is still me and I am still her. We share the same history. Live in the same home, love the same spouse and have the same cuddly cats. Movies from the 80's make us laugh and quoting each line from Dirty Dancing is easy. Baking is a joy and the desire to make a difference in the world brightens are soul. And sometimes we both wilt into this place where we feel unworthy and unloved. 

But this gal and I don't always see eye to eye. And honestly we haven't been on speaking terms for a while. Maybe (well, mostly) because the Jan of Now wasn't ready to have a conversation of truth with the Jan of Then? Because I know going back there, to the place where she lives, might just be a little painful. And maybe I haven't been ready to go there? But today it occurred to me to try. Here and now, I'll approach the place where the Jan of Then was left behind, knowing that I will go in or down or as deep as I can. 

The Beginning of a Conversation

The woman I see standing in the mirror today or writing this blog sees the difference between who I am now and who I was then. The Jan of Now kept thinking "I'm not that gal anymore. I've grown! I've changed! I'm better!" And yes, there are things I am proud of and I'll tell you about those too, but it seems if I said them here they would only distract me from what I really need to say. And today, on the 11th month of transformation, I realized that I left her (The Jan of Then, the gal on the left hand side of the screen) in the past and said, "I don't need you anymore."

Discarded like yesterday's paper, tossed out as if to lessen the value of her existence. There seemed to be too much pain, too much anger, too much sadness there in that place. And I found it incredibly painful to look into her eyes, knowing that underneath the smile, something deeper was really going on.

The Jan of Then

A million people could have told her they loved her (many tried) and that they were proud of her (again, many did), but it didn't fill the space inside where she felt unlovable, unwanted and undeserving. She doubted why anyone could love her, because she didn't love herself. She couldn't see beyond her issues or see what others saw in her.

She cringed at pictures of herself. Her physical mass scared her and after the scale registered over 300 pounds, she stopped weighing herself. Her size 28 pants and 3x tops fit snugly. She  often thought about how the last few years leading up to her 30th birthday were challenging. How her life had changed the day she made the choice to create a boundary with her mother. Only now, after a year of healing, to realize it wasn't a boundary after all, it was a wall.

Her desire to have children often weighed heavy on her heart. It seemed so easy for others to conceive, why couldn't she? Doubt and fear lead her into a place where she couldn't talk about it and this place was called: depression. That feeling of "too much" often reached in, grabbed her by the arm and threw her overboard to swim in a sea of silence. And there were times, in the deepest of darkest waters, where an answer of how to end the pain would present itself. 

She tried to numb away the pain, not with alcohol or drugs, but with food and shopping. Permission was always granted: had a bad day, grab fast food. Bored: go find a great deal.

And the physical reactions to foods she ate, somehow received permission to exist. The stomach aches and frequent restroom breaks were tolerated. Even the migraines that were a weekly occurrence and would sometimes require 3 prescription pills to eliminate (along with lots of dark and quiet space), were excused. But really, she let them exist because they felt like a just punishment.

Somewhere courage broke the silence of unexpressed pain and trying to "do the right thing" took its toll and her envy of others' lives gnarled at her belly. And a glimmer came in. She saw the willing heart and followed where it lead. Repeatedly, she kept seeing moments where she saw how her life could be.

When the darker days began to lift, she knew where to ask for support and assistance and love. And so began the journey with Dr. Margaret, her supportive chiropractor, nutritionist, healer and counselor. She knew (even if it was buried beneath a lot of STUFF) that she was worthy of being loved and actually loved herself enough to do this. That she was ready to embark on the life transformation of the heart. And what once got buried beneath Food | Blame | Patterns began coming forward. And as she stood before the world (and herself), the layers of unspoken scars began to heal. 

The Jan of Now

Even as I wrote the above, I separated myself. Maybe that was the only way I could venture into the woods? Into the space where more wisdom, more lessons and more truth live. There is more hiding behind the words and details and for now, this is as far as I can go. But I know that my decision to leave her behind, for whatever the reason Fear  |  Doubt  |  Sadness didn't actually stop the pain in my life. It only meant one day, when I was ready, I'd have to go back there, to the place she was abandoned and say, "Let's journey together."

A Reflection on Healing

The last 11 months have been an amazing journey, awakening me to parts of myself that have longed to be loved, accepted and integrated into my life. And the more I do this, the more I glow.

I wanted to feel better and do. Migraines only occur if I have gluten, dairy or corn and overall my health has improved greatly. I have more energy and have transformed 94 pounds. 

I wanted to discover patterns that I use to need for protection, but now only cause hurt. Throwing up a wall between myself and someone often happened if it got "too real". I also wanted to be more compassionate with the part of myself that does this and to feel into the things I tried to stuff down or run away from.  

I've been able to have wonderful connections with so many wonderful people. (Seriously, thank you for all of the love you send my way! Know that I love and appreciate you too!) And what's great about these connections is that it isn't just about the weight transformation (though it usually starts there). Often, we are both able to go to this real space inside of ourselves. A place where we are connected with our hopes and dreams and our fears and doubts. A place where we can be the real us, wall free.

In sharing this story, I see where I could have gone, words I could have written and stories I could have shared, but I'm not ready. My heart whispered for me to "Give It A Try" and I did. And in this space I trusted that I'd be supported, that the words to express what I wanted to share would come and that love would surround all of it. 

Pride

The Commencement Ceremony

As Pomp and Circumstance brought you in, Capella University learners, tears welled in my eyes. You have worked hard to earn your degree, to walk across the stage and proudly proclaim, "I did it." The journey to get here was filled with moments of joy and some struggles, (but doesn't anything that is worth doing have both?) Now that you stand on the other side of it, how do you feel? Have those choices and struggles allowed you to discover a part of yourself that unlocked Perseverance  |  Integrity  |  Strength?

I tried to capture the amazing moments of your graduation ceremony. The sound of women's high heels across the wooden stage, the swoosh of regalia gowns and the uproarious cheers from family and friends that filled the auditorium. And me, a Capella University employee of 5 years, who came back to volunteer. It was important for me to be there, to connect with you.

So I wore my volunteer shirt with pride and as I stood in front of the auditorium, I took it all in and as you looked to me to help you find your seat, we made connections with smiles, high fives, hugs, "congratulations" or tears. I peered into the faces in the audience, watching them as they watched the graduation ceremony. Indescribable. My cheeks hurt from smiling, my feet hurt from standing, but my heart welled with love.
It is worth noting the beautiful power of being a part of someone's joy. These moments are gifts to our own souls too. And as I directed you to return to your seats, I got to glimpse into each of your hearts, after all you were showing them without armor, rather each was shiny, sparkly and filled with pride. And in my own heart, I felt encouraged.
Each of your stories weaved together and it became less about the details and more about how you were able do what needed to be done. How you were able to follow your heart, while still honoring the chatter of the internal critic. Even if the words, were only words, they Derailed  |  Stopped  | Halted you somewhere and you found yourself on the edge of greatness. And in this part of your journey, you began asking "how can you continue to follow your heart?" And here you began taking the road less traveled and without written instructions or black and white boundaries you did it. And the obstacles became even more honest, because they touch into our beautiful vulnerability. But when honored, the light shines even brighter and there is no doubt that what we are doing is great. And this is what I opened to. Ideas of how I can live my life began flooding in and I see myself as a learner who wants to receive my degree in Following My Heart  |  Speaking Truth  |  Being Passionate knowing this journey is one of the greatest I am on. So I circle back, how can you continue to follow my heart?"

Sharing My Pride: Do what matters!

Be passionate! Be proud! Follow your heart!

When August began, the intention was to write and write and write, hoping to unearth a truth that was there, it just didn't have light shone on it.
And when the words didn't come forward, I baked and baked and baked. And when my body was tired, I paused and fell in to myself.
The yoga class I took this week, had me appreciating my body, accepting the points of pain and the flood of tears that came out when my left leg twisted over my body. Something released and something was opened.
Something was loved and something was left unbroken.
Something was seen and something was shown.
It was life and love and beauty and death.
It as willingness and pride and heart and trust.
It was joy and sorrow and pain and ideas of tomorrow.
It was all and it was nothing.
It was a moment of opening and when I fell, I noticed where I wilted, where the journey takes me and how beautiful it was to stay there - with me.
And so, I to found the openness that comes when we recognize that our light shines the brightest when we do, what we do, because we know we are meant to. 
And in my words, in my blogging, my baking, I realized the gift hiding underneath it all, was that I love - all of me. The part that creates and writes. The part that loves baking for fundraisers and charities. The internal critic that says "is what I'm putting out into the universe valuable?" And I realize as long as I'm following my heart, no matter how it is received (although, I do hope it is Loved  |  Appreciated  |  Inspirational) like those newly graduated Capella learners, I need to share my pride in what I do.