I'm an explorer!

129

That's me on the left and my sis on the right. I was maybe 8 or 9. Skinny! 

I grew up loving exercise.

Okay wait. That is wrong. Let me rephrase that.

I grew up loving to explore.

I can remember being very young, may be 9 or 10? and I would get up at 6am on Saturday, make myself a bullseye (egg in a window, bird in a nest - you know, a piece of bread with an egg fried in the center), and watch the morning cartoons on the tv:  Electrawoman and Dynagirl, Thundercats, Voltron (my favorite was when the spaceships were cats),  Superfriends (with the Wonder Twins of course)... the list could go on, but after cartoon time, I would put on my tennis shoes or my sandals, or my boots, sometimes I'd kiss my mom (who would be up by then with her cigarette and coke) on the cheek and go on a 'walk'. My mother never asked where I was going and knew I wouldn't be home for four or five or even six hours. I was going off to explore. I don't know how she did it - my mother worried about everything. But I guess we lived in a small town and my family lived in a very close community, and she felt safe that nothing would happen to me. As I walked out the playroom door, I would hear her say, "Be home for dinner!" and off I would go.

My walks took hours. I never knew where I was going. Sometimes I'd go behind the community clubhouse and see where that led me, or I'd take the path behind the Cooper's house and go into the woods. I would walk and look at trees and rocks and streams. Sometimes, I'd go to the abandoned tree house in the woods, or sometimes I'd go to the pond down the road. One time, just for the heck of it, I walked all the way into town! Then I called my dad to bring the truck and come and pick me up. Granville, the way I walked, was about six miles from my house. It doesn't seem like much now, but then it was really far away! Sometimes, I would walk in the other direction. Just to explore. Just to see what I could find. I would call my dad from the craziest places, and he would get in the truck and come and pick me up. No cell phones, so I'd have to find a pay phone or ask a stranger if I could use their phone to call my mom. Sometimes I'd have to call collect. Worst case, I'd have to walk home, although I'd try to find a shorter route! Almost always, my mom would answer the phone, I'd tell her where I was and she'd locate my dad and twenty or thirty minutes later he'd pick me up. We'd talk in the truck all the way home. He was never once angry or upset. Sometimes he'd ask how I ended up where I ended up, but since he was the one that had first taken me on long walks at seven or eight years old, he never scolded me for exploring. Some of my best memories are my long walks with my dad.

For me, growing up, Saturday afternoons and Sunday afternoons were times to explore. It didn't really matter the weather, I was out there finding that abandoned building, sneaking into locked houses that were for sale (I have this weird thing where sometimes doors just open for me. Wasted talent!), watching frogs in the pond, finding rocks or cool leaves. The world was my treasure and I just wanted to find out everything I could about it. I explored my world like that until I was 13 or 14, I think.

I don't remember why I stopped exploring. School got harder. I went from not caring that I didn't have a lot of friends, to really wishing I had a lot of friends. I gained a tremendous amount of weight when I turned 15. I was put on a bunch of hormones and steroids which didn't help the situation any. But somewhere in my mid-teens exploring shifted to exercise. To regimented movement. And it didn't take long for me to realize I hated exercise. Maybe the switch happened when I tried out for the track team, someone made fun of my slow running and I quit. Or in gym class when I was afraid to embarrass myself and the gym teacher told me if I wasn't so fat I wouldn't be embarrassed. I don't know. Maybe it was the neighbor boys' endless teasing. Maybe it was the chaos at home, but the net result was that I quit exploring.

And maybe that is the crux of it. I started to see exercise as harmful, not as fun or adventurous. Gym class was an opportunity for others to tease and for me to demonstrate just how uncoordinated I truly was. No one said, "Hey, exercise doesn't mean you have to be able to hit a ball perfectly! Go love what you love! Go swim! Go explore! That is exercise!" I just gave up on moving. And for 30 years I have seen exercise as torture.

Until recently. Until last summer. Until I started running. I didn't love running. But I loved moving. I started to remember how I enjoyed being outside. How I enjoyed exploring. Don't get me wrong, those first months of running were exercise and they were not an adventure! But as I moved, I think I woke up my muscle memory. I started to think about moving not as torture, but as fun. Part of it was seeing my daughter play lacrosse as well. Seeing the girls on the field move in such grace reminded me of the things that made me feel graceful. Swimming, exploring. I think that is why I kept running even when I knew something was wrong with my knee. I was terrified if I stopped running, this fire I was developing for movement would go out. That once my knee started to heal, I wouldn't have the motivation to go back to moving.

Turns out I was wrong. Maybe it was the walk with my friend Lori when I realized I could go much farther than I thought I could. That no one was going to tease or be mean. For 30 years I had held on in my head to what kids in school had said about me - I was fat, ugly, not good at sports, etc. and used it as an excuse to abstain from exercising. Those old recordings in my head faded. I started to hear new ones - or maybe in my case, older ones. The ones that said movement was adventure!

It helped that I had motivation. I took on being a full-time mom. The relationship I thought would last, ended. Somewhere in that mix, I started to get to know my Self again. I unlocked my heart and found that I missed exploring. Not just exercising, but exploring everything about me! Looking in to see what was there. Turns out, exploring showed me that I hadn't always hated my body. In fact, there was a time when I was comfortable in my own body. There was a time when my body didn't feel like my enemy. And I started to embrace my own joy.

That translated into coming to see exercise not as torture, but release! I don't get to explore much right now, seeing as I'm not really allowed yet to go for long walks or bike rides. But going to the YMCA 4 or 5 times a week, putting on my headphones, escaping into my workout mix, singing along in my head, closing my eyes...  I could care LESS if anyone thinks I am weird on my machine sweating until I can barely open my eyes for the salt, exercise has become fun! When I close my eyes I think about all the things I want to do. I think about the people I love. I think about places I want to explore: Africa, or Greece, or Mexico, or Hawaii, or a thousand places! Or even exploring my own back yard. No longer is exercise torture. It is hard work, but I have tapped into that part of myself that remembers how much I love to explore.

I'm remembering what passion feels like. What being alive feels like. What loving myself and the world feels like. In the process of making friends with my body and loving my body and remembering that I am a woman who likes to explore, things have changed.

Exploring my true self and embracing her has made all the difference.

Peace,

MaryKate

'Scheherazade Revisited' or '1001 tales about my life'...
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I've probably tried to lose weight a thousand times – Like Scheherazade there are easily 1000 tales of my determination to conquer my weight issues. That is not hyperbole. I've tried, and honestly? I set down my pen. I gave up on that story in my life. Instead, I wrote about learning to be content with my body and my life. Even when I started this blog, it wasn't about 'losing weight' it was about getting healthy. I was afraid of failing again, of dusting off that old manuscript and writing yet another chapter on how "This time I am REALLY going to do it!"(no… really, I am) and then having to face not only a private failure but a public one. I just didn't have it in me to even try.  

It was after this summer that things changed for me. I don't remember making a conscious decision to try again to write that tale. I don't remember some big ‘ah-ha!’ event this time where I went back to that well-worn story with no resolute conclusion and got out my quill and ink. There was no fanfare, no big announcement about 'I'm losing weight!"  I just noticed I had a different relationship with food. This summer I had a sense of renewal in my life - a new perspective that also seemed to apply to my relationship with food.

What I didn't realize, was that while I stumbled to try again to write my tale of life, the Universe was already writing the tale with much more flare and delight than even I could conceive.

I expected to write the tale about once again trying to lose weight, alone. I thought it would be a tale of sharing how, on my own, I finally conquered my lifelong goal of losing weight.

I did not expect to find someone to share this experience with.

Funny thing how the Universe works, because for the last 30 years I have tried to do it "on my own". I thought I could "conquer" my weight issues by myself. Even as I deeply desired someone to love me for who I was and someone who wanted to make those changes with me, I felt like my weight issues were something I could ‘control on my own'. I didn't need anyone's help.

Thinking back on it, the most successful attempt before this at losing weight was when I lived with my sister. We were a team and worked hard to lose weight together. The connectedness and the teamwork between her and I made all the difference.

I only stopped when I freaked out in the dressing room.

Soon after that moment, I moved out from my sister’s apartment. I kept up with taking better care of myself for a while, but then slid back into my unhealthy relationship with food. Patterns and habits are so hard to break.

Then this summer. And that moment in the parking lot when I grokked* what it meant in my life to surrender – that moment when I stopped trying to tell the Universe what to do and how to do it, when I stopped trying to control everything and everyone in my life. That moment when I realized I was done trying so hard to force the world to my will. The moment I let go and realized control was an illusion and fighting for it was exhausting.

As my relationship to myself shifted so did the relationship I had to food. I realized that if I couldn’t control the things around me, I could control how I reacted to the things around me. One of which, was how I reacted to food. Once I understood that no one could ‘make’ me feel safe, I knew that I could take care of myself. It felt empowering. It felt satisfying. And I stopped running to food to comfort me and found better ways of comforting myself. I also realized I could better love someone because I didn’t need anyone.

I stopped trying to write my story and realized it was time to allow the Universe to work some magic and write the novel of my life for a while.  

Not long after I stopped expecting anything, when I realized I didn’t ‘need’ anything is when I found something. Or... someone. 

Unexpected, but not unwelcome. 

I'm fortunate to have met someone supportive. Someone with the same goals. Someone who's emotionally healthy and who desires to be physically healthy as well. I'm not going to write a lot here about the relationship. It is what it is and this blog isn't about another person, it's about me. But having someone to share the journey has been a wonderful bonus in my efforts to take better care of my health. While I know I can do it on my own, it is so rewarding to know I don’t have to.

I look at the scale and realize there are 30 pounds less of me since I started paying attention around the end of August. It is partly Weight Watchers, although honestly? I've done WW no less than six times. I think it has to do with a different outlook on my part, and having a partner who wants for himself the same things I want for myself. Sharing meals and the experience - the ability to talk about struggles with success and failures has been a great way to build a strong foundation on many levels.

Last weekend, I went through my closet and found things I had long ago put in bags for Value Village because they didn't fit. As I tried them on, I realized not only did some of them fit, but some of them were too big for me! I started dancing around the room, liking what I was seeing and feeling.

Turns out? Underneath all my weight, I'm hourglass shaped. Go me! *laughter* Granted, at the moment, it is a rather large hourglass but when I tried on the silver silk dress I couldn't even get past my chest two months ago and saw that even though it is tight, it fits – I could see the shape my body is moving towards. And it felt good.

Really, really good.

I have a long way to go, but to paraphrase the Tao, ‘the journey of a thousand stories starts with the first word’.

I am invested in being as healthy as I know how to be. I've done all the mental thinking about it I can do. There comes a time to act. There comes a time to ‘do’. Now? I am acting. I am doing. I count myself fortunate not to have to do it alone. My newfound strength to make better choices isn't dependent on someone else, it is enhanced.

I'm not gonna lie – sharing this experience is way better than trying to do it on my own. So hey, thanks Universe for knowing what I needed, even before I did!

By this time next year, I suspect I'll be pretty close to my goal. I know it won't be easy, and I have a LOT more weight to let go of - but when I tried on those clothes that were too small for me just two months ago? I knew I was on the right path.

Perhaps I finally understand that I'm not just letting go of trying to control the world, but letting go of the physical barrier that kept me apart from the world – and from living an emotionally, spiritually, physically healthy life.

Peace,

MaryKate

* grok·ked, grok·king, groks Slang. To understand profoundly through intuition or empathy.

Oprah 100 x 100 

89/100

I'm watching a show on Oprah. I don't watch Oprah that often. But for some reason I caught the beginning of tonight's show and found it very inspiring. It's a show of 100 people who have lost over 100 pounds.

I started watching the show and the first thing I wanted to do was go into the kitchen and eat. I suppose that probably sounds funny, but really? Not so much. I sat here processing the anxiety watching this show made me feel. It brought up a memory in me from about eight years ago. I was with my sister and one of my dear friends doing some clothes shopping. I had lost about 50 pounds. I tried on a pair of leather pants and came out of the dressing room. They were in a size I hadn't worn since I was in my teens. I have been heavy since I was eight years old. So, for me? Getting back into a size I wore when I was a teenager was amazing.

So, there I was... in HOT, new, black leather pants. I walked out into the store and Lori and my sister had this look in their eyes. It's hard to explain it. But it was joy, happiness. Love. They both went on and on about how amazing I looked. How sexy, how beautiful. They had tears in their eyes. I started to get anxious. I went back into the dressing room and started crying. Full on sobbing. Couldn't stop. Took off the pants and within six months I had gained back all the weight and didn't lose it again.

Tonight, watching Oprah, feeling that anxiety and the desire to eat it bought up, I realized I still have some issues with food. The difference in my life is that tonight? I didn't get up and eat. I didn't get out of my chair. I'm working my way to a triathlon. I'm trying not to obsess about the scale. I've given up my pretty solid diet of wheat, white sugar and dairy. On occasion I have those foods, but I'm not making those staples in my life anymore.

I had someone say to me the other day that he felt fat people were just lazy and undisciplined. In his defense? He did say he was realizing that it was much more complex. I know it is for me. It is so easy to pigeon hole my weight issues as my being 'lazy' and 'undisciplined'. It's so much more than that.

And here is the best part. As the Oprah show finishes up, I feel more excited to keep on my journey. Tonight, I moved past the old desire to eat over feeling anxiety and am now just enjoying her show and finding it motivating.

I know I have a long way to go. I know this isn't my 100th blog post. I still have 11 more of the first 100. I'm excited to focus those last ten on how much I have grown and changed in the eight months I have been writing this journal. And the best part is that I'm not stopping at 100, the next set of 100 will be continuing my journey to be more healthy and sharing whatever twists my life takes next.

It's important to know the original issues I had with food and weight haven't just 'disappeared'. Anxiety/Emotional eating are still a part of my life. But by paying attention to what I am feeling and by recognizing the desire to eat that isn't hunger based but emotionally based,  I can stop myself from mindlessly going into the kitchen and eating something to numb myself.

I have awareness, determination and a belief that I can make a change in my life. It's already happening.

Peace,

MaryKate

Thin may be in, but healthy's where it's at!

3/100

A friend of mine posted a question to me on my facebook page (I'm pretty sure she'll be okay with me reposting it ;) )

Read your blog so far. Yes, accountability is absolutely the key. I would be curious to know more what issues you discovered were foundational to your love of food because I've never been able to figure that out about myself.


This blog? Isn't actually a response to her question - although I am sure eventually I'll share some of those issues. *lol* It's about the initial reaction I had to her question.

This friend of mine, to me, is thin. When I read her question, I thought to myself, why is she asking me about weight issues?... she's beautiful! She has a body I would *love* to have. So, while I was making my dinner tonight, I processed some of my reactions to her question. I started to think about some of the other women I work with and that are in my life. So many of them seem to be constantly worried about what they eat, how they eat, when they eat, if they eat...

I thought about when I first had the idea to start a '100 days of being healthy' blog. It was this summer; my goddaughter's girl scout troop was going to Cedar Point and she asked me to go. I panicked. You know how they have height requirements for rides where in order to ride, you have to be a certain height? Well, at Cedar Point now, they have 'size' restrictions. They have a sample 'seat' at the start of the line for the ride. If you get in the seat and it won't lock? You can't get on the ride. Seven years ago, when I went to Cedar Point, I barely fit into some of those seats. That was thirty pounds ago. I couldn't imagine the humiliation of my goddaughter looking at me and me having to say to her "Sorry babygirl, I can't go on this ride with you." Mind you, she wouldn't have been upset, she would have likely shrugged her shoulders and said, 'Let's find a different one"... or "Can I go with my friends then?" But I couldn't handle having to face the embarrassment of it. I also knew a whole day of walking around Cedar Point in the sun? Would be too much for me. So I didn't go with her.

When I think about being overweight (and according to my BMI I am morbidly obese - ouch it stings just writing that), I think about what that means in my world. Issues with airplanes, issues with rides, issues with some theater seats, issues with chairs, issues with certain beds, issues with how and where I sleep, issues with blood sugar and issues with my general health. What I hadn't thought about is that a woman you might look at and think "wow, she's so thin and beautiful" might very well have issues with her body. Heck, she is likely to have issues with her body. Those issues are probably different than the ones I struggle with, but just as valid and just as difficult for her to navigate.

Getting healthy for me isn't about getting thin. There are some amazingly beautiful women that I work with and others that I am friends with that have just as 'big' of body issues as I have. Being 'thin' has nothing to do with letting go of body issues - it's no magic cure. As my sister once said to me, "There's no such thing as emotional bypass surgery." Getting thin doesn't cure anything. I am not writing this blog and eating better and exercising more to 'get thin'. Because clearly ' being thin' has nothing to do with being happy with your body.

I'm going on this journey so that I like myself better. So that I wake up feeling better and so that I can go into a store, buy clothes and not hate or want to scream at or be incredibly depressed about what I see. What I 'weigh' isn't as important to me as the 'way' I see myself. I'm learning to appreciate who I am and that is what truly matters.

Well... and fitting into the seats at Cedar Point! Because Mads? Next summer? You better be ready!

Peace,
MaryKate