What Bad News Triggers In Me

Do you ever get bad news repeated to you on the regular? I mean like the same bad news is told to you over and over again? 

I still want to break up with you…

You have symptoms of infertility...

You’re fired…

The test reports found…

Recently I heard a type of bad news 3 times. For two weeks I was told the same bad news. After 3 tests I was told I was pre-diabetic. What does this mean exactly? Well I am still learning. However since diabetes, both type 1 and 2 run in my family, I knew quite a bit about what this means.

Bad news triggers different things in all of us but for me, it usually triggers the same things. 

Dear bad news triggers…you are not very creative!!!

It usually triggers a sense of needing to control everything in me, an anxiety, a swirly feeling and a frantic face. 

For about four years I struggled with anorexia. I’ve been scared to talk about it but I’m more tired than I am afraid of shame and all it’s toxic lies. 

It is part of my tender and brave story. My struggle made me think that being overweight was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. Restricting food made me feel powerful and in control. 

As much as I feel recovered, the temptation came back with the bad news. Suddenly the urge to restrict was strong again. It felt scary. I feel like I’ve recovered so much. How can I even feel so drawn to this deadly obsession? Why does this seem so appealing right now?

This morning laying in bed I read a quote by Bob Goff’. He said,  “Don’t let who you were talk you out of who you’re becoming” 

Isn’t that just like Spring? Spring is about becoming, sprouting and growing. No matter how icy cold and relentless winter is, Spring is more stubborn. Something warm and beautiful and bloomy is, in fact, more stubborn. Against all odds, Spring bursts out of the ground, waving and throwing greens like confetti. 

Spring is a dauntless badass.

We have all had winters in our lives. We’ve encountered barren trees and dead leaves. We have experienced pain and loss. We did the best we could. I have the most respect for my story. I work to forgive myself for hurting my body the way I did when my eating disorder was in it’s most frigid winter. 

Just because I had an eating disorder doesn’t mean I have to go back to one. I don’t have to manage my life like that anymore. I don’t have to numb myself by not eating. I can feel swirly AND breathe deeply AND feed myself. 

Today I have more choices then I did then. I know more. I know who I am becoming.  

As Glennon Doyle reminded me today, “Your best- is ahead, not behind. “

Who am I becoming? 

Kind

Calm

Brave

Authentic

Vulnerable

Empathetic

Compassionate

Tender

Fierce

Free

Grateful

Curious

Creative

Open 

What exactly is ahead? Well it’s Spring of course!

Always and forever Spring wins. 

Happy Easter friends!

A Party For The Needy

Speaking my needs is hauntingly terrifying.

Let me explain.

Somewhere along the road of my life I concluded that needs were these nasty little irritants that got in the way of me being an independent, strong and self-sufficient woman.

I abhor the word "needy". I once had a (ex) boyfriend who said "girls are just needy, that's just how they are" I bristled softly beneath this extreme stereotypical statement. I calmly challenged his line of thinking with as much grace I could tolerate. But what I really wanted to do was punch him in the face. 

I thought if I shared my needs I would be punished.

I’m not exactly talking about my need for coffee or my need to wash my car. I’m talking about deep emotional needs. (although let’s be honest, my need for coffee is about there but I have no issue asking for it)

I’m talking about ‘hey it’s 2am and I am terrified and I need to be held’ Or ‘I need to eat’ because I’m getting all shaky and spinny. Or ‘I honestly can’t afford this and I really think I need it’ Or ‘I can’t do this alone today, can you come?’  SOoooooooo SCarrrrrrryyyyyyyy

I hold my breath as I ask for my needs to be met. I expect shame to be an answer. I expect to be punished for having needs. My toxic thoughts have erupted into You’re a grown ass woman, keep it together, figure this out by yourself…

Thankfully I  am reminded of a parable Jesus told about a man who had great NEED. He spent all his money recklessly, lived a wild life, and suddenly found himself in such a rut he couldn’t pull himself out. There was no “pull yerself up by the boot straps” going on. There was only one last ray of hope and that was to get some help. Speak needs. The prodigal son stumbled his way home to his Father’s house.

How surprising it must have been for him to not even be able to get his needs off his chest when his father rushes toward him in an embrace! 

You have needs! Awesome! So glad you came! We will throw a party in honor of your needs and roast a fattened calf.

No punishment at all. The opposite. A party. A celebration.

How curious.

And yet in my own life every time I speak my needs, it’s like a freaking party rolls in. It’s like the red carpet rolls out. Expecting thorns of judgment, I get roses of acceptance. And the other crazy party is that when I share my needs others do it too! They start sharing their story about when they were in deep need and how those needs were met.

All this need stuff has given me courage to listen to what my body and heart need. I've learned to listen instead of telling myself to suck it up. I have started using a tender voice with me, "Yes, you need to breathe, okay let's do that. You feel too tired to push through? Okay, let's take a break"

What would it look like for us to reward our minds and bodies and hearts for having needs? What if the next time you have a need, you are gentle with you? Maybe we can take the stance of Jesus a little more often. Maybe we can run towards each other when we are in desperate need. Maybe we can throw parties instead of shame fests for those who speak their needs. I'll bring the balloons, you bring the confetti alright?

My Many Shields*

*Originally written for 30DNM campaign and website. 

I might be an extrovert according to the tests but truth be told, I process the deeper and harder things on an internal level. Sometimes it takes me awhile to come to conclusions. Sometimes I just need to let things marinate within me. 

If nothing else, nature reminds me that beautiful things take time. The way flowers grow, how seasons change, the birthing process. Forming “pretty” isn’t easy and is often much more counter cultural than we'd assume. 

I was really excited for #30daysnomakeup to be over. I was a little sad too. I had come to really look forward to seeing posts and encouragement on their Instagram and blog. I found other people with similar views and passions for empowering women. However I was ready for the holiday, for wearing make-up, for dressing up and embracing all the glitz and glitter. 

As December 15th approached, I made a plan for my day. I would take a long hot shower; I would use oils; take time on my eyebrows and hair. I would PUT ON make-up. And I wouldn't skimp on anything. There would be eyeliner and red lips. After it was all said and done I worked to take a picture of my "new and improved" face. Truth be told, I was strikingly underwhelmed. 

I was so underwhelmed it was actually depressing and embarrassing. Why couldn't I just snap a picture of my face!? I had worked so hard to make it look good! I kept staring at my face and feeling weird about it. I had assumed that I would feel 10x more beautiful finally being able to wear make-up but I didn't. 

I believed my experience was dissimilar to other people's experiences. Maybe that wasn’t true, but I envied those who I assumed felt beautiful without make-up and beautiful with make-up on. They looked so happy in their skin. I realized I was still trying to feel safe in my skin. Make-up wasn't nearly the shield I had hoped it would be for me. All this time it made me feel safe. It was my barrier from the harsh and critical world. But on December 15th, that barrier didn't seem to stick the way I wanted it to. My face was still there, buried under all that make-up. All that time, all that thought, all that precision. Me. 

My vulnerability was still looking right back at me. 

It's hard to face the world unarmed. It's especially hard to face myself unarmed. There are always shields available to us wherever we go. As a child, make-up wasn't my shield but being good and perfect was. As I became older, staying thin and running became my shield. Smiling when I was angry was my shield. Saying yes instead of no was my shield. People-pleasing was my shield. I let go of these shields when I found something that was actually more powerful than my shields, things like courage, kindness, vulnerability and breathing. 

The thing about shields, though, is that they are heavy and exhausting. After awhile they just don't serve me the way I need them to. The more I access my courage muscle and practice shame resilience the less I need them. 

I'm not saying I never wear make-up now. I'm not even saying that going make-up free is the better, cooler, less toxic, more hip (or however you fill that blank) thing to do. What I am saying is that participating in #30daysnomakeup freed me a little bit more. It empowered me. It made me less afraid of me.  It allowed me to drop one of my shields for a little awhile. I need my make-up less now and I wear it less.  And that feels really, really good. 

Naked Face

I have made it to day eleven doing #30daysnomakeup. I have been so inspired by the founders beautiful and authentic blog encouraging me along the way. They put this quote on their 30 Days No Make-Up Blog that really sat with me.

“The most fundamental aggression to ourselves, the most fundamental harm we can do to ourselves, is to remain ignorant by not having the courage and the respect to look at ourselves honestly and gently.”

– Pema Chodron, When Things Fall Apart

This whole campaign has caused me to leave my ignorance behind and face myself with courage and respect. Some days my courage is small and more in the mustard seed genre, however think those are the days were I really grow. 

For Thanksgiving week I have been spending time with my husband's family in northern California. We are amidst the tall trees and cooler temperatures. As I write this I am surrounding by family and a cozy cracking fire in the fireplace.  I am really grateful to have kind and accepting in-laws. My mother-in-law totally supports me in my campaign and reminds me how beautiful I am even without the make-up. She skips the cosmetic ads on the TV because she knows how much I miss my make-up. It hasn't been as hard here. I don't have to go to work and feel the pressure to be on make-up. There isn't a lot of need to check the mirror here. We do other things like read books, make homemade food, go on walks and go shopping together for a 20 pound turkey at the farmer's market. We have quiet mornings of sleeping in and coffee. Here I feel like I can be a bit more gentle with myself and my face. (even though I have somehow created a monster zit right under my eyebrow: driving me nuts) 

Early this weekend though Scott and I were invited to a fancy exclusive club by his sweet and extravagant grandparents for dinner. There was a dress code: guys in suits and gals in dresses. We were not allowed to look at our phones. There was multiple courses and the wine flowed. The powder room was filled with women re-applying their make-up, hair spray and gloss. I was literally afraid I would be kicked out for not wearing make-up. I ran into a woman who "snuck" into the bathroom to check her phone so she could see if her kids were okay at home. She said it was her first time at the club. I said it was mine too and I shared about my campaign and how nervous I was. She was so inspired by this campaign and talked about how she chose not to wear make-up one day and that the world sees her real face now. I can't say I will give up make-up for all eternity but it certainly made me think. 

There is something intrinsically courageous as well as respectful and gentle to one's self to bare your real face to the world. Initially I thought, Is this disrespectful?! People don't want to see my real face! It's like I'm imposing my face on the public! But the more I think about it the more I realize how much it's an act of self-love. It takes a lot of guts as well as a TON of self-compassion to do this. I have to be on my side to do this and it's so much easier said than done. I can be very hostile to myself. I feel like this process is helping me be more gentle with me and in turn, more gentle with those around me. This Thanksgiving I am grateful for having people around me who encourage me and are kind to my face even when I snarl at it in the mirror. Besides no one needs lipgloss to fully engage one's senses in eating turkey! (or tons of mashed potatoes, green bean casserole and STUFFING) 

Big Bear Moments

 A few days* of goodness really does something for the soul. Even a few moments of quiet beauty does wonders. I know it’s said that for every negative comment, you need 5 positive comments to cancel it out. However I feel that for every stunning moment, I am given the courage to face the next week with eyes wide open.

For labor day weekend I traveled to Big Bear for the first time for a girls trip while Scott was away for a Bachelor party. I’ve been dreaming of this trip for some time now. My heart has longed for nature living in an urban neighborhood in San Diego. My soul has missed water living in the drought here and chlorine pools and salt water don’t just do the trick sometimes. I was raised on fresh water. Growing up, I learned how to canoe, water ski, tube and fish on fresh water lakes.

          

We stayed in a community called Sugar Loaf on top of the mountains. I could feel the altitude changing as my breathing became more thin. Trees on trees on trees as we slowly climbed. Our little log cabin we rented was from Air B&B. It was as quaint and cozy as they come. It was even smaller than Scott and I’s one bedroom apartment I think and that is saying something. The girls and I took shifts making dinner in the kitchen because it was so small only one person could comfortably stand inside it. There was a fireplace and a loft. These are my favorite things. First things first, I climbed up the log ladder onto the loft and overlooked our cozy cabin with dancing eyes and breathed in my surroundings.

 There is something about mountain air. It just smells so fresh. The trees smells of oak and leaves and must. The whole world smells like earth and somehow I feel like my soul belongs here. In nature I feel closer to God. I know that it’s not like God suddenly shows up as if he doesn’t hang out in the urban areas, I just feel it more. I can sense something divine and heavenly up high in the mountains where I am swallowed up in blue.

 Up here I felt released from my financial concerns as if making dinner every day and making my own coffee was how things were supposed to be. Cabin life made me feel like I lacked nothing. I didn’t wear make-up and I didn’t feel a need to shop for clothes. I felt safe in my own skin. I was with my safest friends and in an environment I have always felt serene and safe in. Growing up in the country, I seemed to find what most people deem as dangerous as friendly: specifically wildlife. I feel that bears and coyotes just want to be my friend. Thunderstorms are just there to remind me that everything is being made new. Jumping off and driving boats and climbing on rocks and jumping off of them are just part of nature life. I am not very realistic when it comes to fears as I’m sure most of you understand. For example, I am still deathly afraid of kidnappers. I am also afraid I will leave my journal in a public place…mainly like church. I don’t think they would appreciate my profanity.

The girls and I settled into an easy rhythm of sleeping, eating, laking and rom coming (chick flicking) In the mornings I had my coffee outside watching the trees sway to the breeze and hearing the pinecones fall with a thud every few minutes. We rented a boat and had a picnic on some rocks overlooking the lake.

 The moments where there is no need or desire to numb with shopping, drinking or restricting food. There is no need to numb by hiding how I really was. I don’t have to pretend with these mountains and with these friends. 

These moments change me. 

I can’t believe there is a place where I don’t need my vices to fix my anxiety.

I don’t need to mute my joy. 

It can just be.

 I think this place might be inside all of us. It’s the image of God that tells us you.are.okay. I know life is hard but you don’t have to shield yourself from it, you can experience life. You don’t have to numb yourself from feeling it. 

It’s like I was naked and raw all weekend and it was beautiful. My sensitive brain and body accepted all of me. When I jumped off the boat and felt the shockingly mind numbing cold, I felt it. When I realized it was a 4 feet jump and I didn’t have the strength to do one more push up to get back on the boat, I felt small panic seeping in. When I drove the boat like a boss I felt sheer joy. When I inhaled the fresh air I felt relief. When I looked at my friends in our pajamas and fuzzy heads after a day of sun and lake I felt understand. I could laugh and cry, no pretenses necessary.  

          These are the moments that give us courage to face whatever is next. For me, it’s financial struggle. It’s the excruciating wait of that next pay check. This weekend took the edge off. My problems are not necessarily fixed. I was just given permission to let them be and to be scared. When I gave myself this permission I realized I could handle it.  I can face myself and be okay with it. God in me is brave. And me abiding in Him is strong.

          

* Written September 1, 2014