thankful... part 4

I am thankful for my body.

When I was younger I don't remember thinking about my body much. I don't remember wondering how many calories were in a slice of pizza before I ate it, or checking the side of a box of crackers or cereal to see evaluate the nutritional information and decide whether or not it was "worth it." In high school I became a little bit more aware of my body, started comparing myself to other girls around me, but still felt pretty comfortable in my skin and ate what I wanted. I was active because it was fun not because I wanted to burn calories. That never would have crossed my mind.

My sophomore year at Westmont was a hard one for me... "sophomore slump" was a bit of an understatement. I had a full load of difficult classes, roommate drama, and the sinking feeling that I didn't fit in and that I wasn't really very good at anything. So I started to run. First a couple miles here and there with a friend, then more miles on my own. I would often work out twice a day, and started eating less. The soft serve machine that had previously been my favorite part of meal time in the DC became something that was off limits. I noticed my body changing and it felt good to be in control, to be good at something. A few months of this and my once healthy body was somewhere around 105 pounds. Unlike many girls with eating disorders, I didn't look in the mirror and think I was fat. I knew full well that I was too thin and that my behavior was unhealthy, but I felt stuck and consumed. After a few months, I somehow managed to get back to a healthy weight, but the diet mentality stayed with me.

Just over a year ago, I hit rock bottom. My weight was always going up and down, and with it my emotions. Though I appeared heathy and happy to most, I was still putting my identity in my outward appearance. When I didn't feel that I looked good on the outside, I was miserable. I had pursued personal training as a career so that I could be a help and encouragement to others struggling with poor body image, but instead I felt pressure to look and be a certain way. I felt like a hypocrite... certainly no more motivated to work out, if anything less. Rather than exercise, I would eat. My jeans were all too tight. I felt guilt and shame and loneliness. At my lowest point, I was invited to attend a weekend women's retreat. The topic was "surrender". Surrendering being something you do when you have no other options... and I felt I had no other option but to give up. By give up, I don't mean quit, but let go of my need for control and perfection.

Following my retreat, I sought out counseling. My feelings were validated and I was given tools to combat the lies that I had become captive to. I read a book called "Intuitive Eating" and from it learned to listen to my body... eat when I am hungry, stop when I am satisfied. Nothing is off limits. If I wanted a cookie, I could eat a cookie. If I didn't, it would probably be there tomorrow and I could make the choice again. So simple, yet so brilliant. I got rid of our scale (actually it is in Jeff's closet somewhere), because I didn't need it. I didn't want a number to tell me if I was doing good or bad anymore. I met another girl who was struggling in the same way, and we would (and still do) meet to talk honestly about how we are doing and offer encouragement and support to one another. I began running again for the enjoyment of it, and started working out at CrossFit Costa Mesa, where the emphasis was not on weight loss but on challenging my mind and body to push harder and longer than I thought possible.

I don't know as I will ever experience complete freedom from this whole "body image issue". I will likely never go back to eating pizza or ice cream without wondering whether its going to my thighs or my stomach or my ass. But I know without a doubt that I am moving toward freedom, and I am learning to have a little more grace, and appreciate this body that I have been given.

"You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother's womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous--and how well I know it." -Psalm 139

thankful... part 3

I am thankful for my sis, Piper.

Pi. Poo Face. Pam. Pampoozle. Pamster my hamster. These are just a few of the nicknames that I have come up with over the years for my beloved sister. Piper is two years younger than me and about 5 inches taller, and looks about 5 years older. Some of our childhood highlights included coloring on my grandmother's walls while we were supposed to be napping, sliding down the stairs at our beach house in a refrigerator box for hours, her kicking me in the stomach over a cookie, and me kicking a hole through her door over a t-shirt. We had a bit of a love/hate relationship... but what siblings don't?

Despite our differences and fights, I have always adored my sister and wanted the very best for her. Pi used to be scared to sleep in her own room when she was younger. Being the nice older sister that I was, I would let her sleep in my room... for a small fee of course. So she would sleep on my floor, and we would stay up talking... some of our best, most honest talks were when the lights were out. I never told her that I liked when she slept in my room because it made me feel safer too.

Now we are all grown up. A couple of years ago I talked Pi into moving down to San Diego. I remember her saying, "But I don't know anyone in San Diego." I told her that she knew Jeff and me and that we would introduce her to our friends and help her get connected... so down she came. Last year Jeff and I moved an hour north, and Pi is still doing amazing in SD... living on her own, almost done with her LVN program, kicking ass at CrossFit, and making good friends. Thankfully, she hasn't become too cool for us. Pi makes the trip up to Costa Mesa almost every week and we go for walks or bike rides and catch up, cook dinner, shop, play games... and she usually does a load of her laundry.

I never would have thought when we were younger that Piper would become my best friend, but she definitely is. I love that we can just be who we are with each other... and she definitely sees my silliest side. Love you Pam ;)

thankful... part 2

Need I say more?

thankful... part 1

Startin' up blogging again. I think I will dedicate the next several posts to things I am thankful for in my life. This first one is probably a given, but I have to start somewhere.

I am thankful for...
Jeff.
Apparently Jeff and I met at the end of our freshman year at Redwood High School. He remembers. I don't, but he tells me I was wearing long overalls with a white tank top and adidas sandals... you know the ones... the blue and white stripes across the top. I was pretty cool. Anyway, we ended up having Chemistry class together our Sophomore year, and after much game playing, we finally became boyfriend/girlfriend for all of 3 months, until I broke up with him over the summer because "I wasn't ready for a boyfriend." Fortunately he took me back a few months later when I realized the error of my ways. The remainder of our high school years were filled with lunches in 'the quad', cheesy dances, Dawson's Creek on Wednesday nights, boating trips to the lake, and making out... haha!

Jeff and I tried our luck at the long distance thing for college... he chose UC San Diego and I went to Westmont in Santa Barbara. It was a long, challenging four years for us especially during our junior year. I was a little (maybe a lot) unsure of who I was and distanced myself from Jeff, probably the one person who knew me the most. But it was during that year that I realized that there is no one else I would rather spend my life with. I moved to San Diego after I graduated in '05 to an apartment just down the street from where Jeff lived. A few months later, we got engaged, and about a year after that we got married in little Visalia (video 1 & video 2).

Jeff has always been there for me. He puts up with my crap, laughs at my dumb jokes, and makes me feel like I'm the only girl on the earth. I cannot even put into words my gratitude to him, or to God for giving him to me.