A few days away from home and I felt like a new woman. I was surrounded by extravagant examples of God's artistry. Mountain peak after mountain peak. Mist. Blue skies. Light breezes. Silence filled only with the rustling of leaves, the sound of my feet meeting and leaving the earth with each step, the sounds of my heartbeat and labored breath filling my ears as I ascended, paused, and descended mountains. I was full of possibilities. I felt like I was home - with myself. I felt comfortable. Able. Secure. I was filled over and over with gratitude for the experiences I was able to have while I was there. I kept exclaiming like a broken record "Look at how beautiful that is!" Going into resturants, I was filled with social anxiety - fearful of judgment and scorn and being dismissed. But time after time I found strangers welcoming me with a warm smile, and although it was their job to smile, make me feel welcomed, and initiate some small talk, they were genuine with it. I wasn't uptight - I was relaxed, loose, fine with the flow of whatever came and wherever we went. It was amazing. I wanted to uproot my whole life and move. I was high on the aura of the high country. I didn't want to leave.
The closer and closer I got to home, the more fragmented I felt. Not because I hate my life - because that is far from the truth. But the air here is thick - you drink it, you don't breathe it. The landscape here is flat - you walk it, you don't climb it. The people here are impatient, dismissive, and self-absorbed. There is a sense of self-importance and self-righteousness here because you don't have something huge and mighty like a mountain to humble and ground you, to remind you how small you are and how great He is.
The closer I got to home, the more my social anxiety increased. I could feel myself winding up like a spring -- my guard came back up. I feared judgement and criticisms for taking vacation when work is short staffed. I feared judgment and criticisms for my weight, appearance, etc.
I felt sensitive, weak, vulnerable, unsure, fearful, and cornered.
I felt those things about things I created in my own mind. About perceptions, assumptions, things playing off my insecurities.
I don't know how to be less sensitive.
I don't know how to care less about what other people think.
I don't know how to be strong and fearless.
I don't know how to be confident.
I don't know how to be me because I'm so busy being who other people think and expect me to be.
Vacation in the mountains is so good for my soul. During that time my heart finds its wings and FLIES. But returning home is soul crushing.
Thursday, October 19, 2017
Saturday, October 14, 2017
The deep drive to wander is strong right now. I need to explore. I need to travel. I need to escape.
Not because my life is bad. Far from it. My life is good. My life is balanced. My life has routine. I enjoy my job. I enjoy my hobbies. I enjoy my church. But I have never been satisfied with being stationary. I've flown wild and free, blowing like a leaf to and fro. In the height of instability in my life, I craved consistency. I craved to have roots. To be established. To have what I have now -- routine, comfort, security. But now that I have that, I find that my nomadic tendencies pulling at my heart strings. It's a deep beat that sounds from my marrow, an ancient rhythm that tells me I'm born to wander. I'm beginning to understand that my need for wandering/unpredictability/
We have a mini trip coming up to the mountains, and I hope to get some quality trail and outdoor time. I hope that will satisfy the craving for a bit.
And I have another trip to the mountains planned this winter with friends. I hope that will further satisfy the craving and fulfill my need for connecting with strong women and being fed with positive relationships with girlfriends.
It's fun coming into ones own... Finding ones lines are not finite but blurry. Finding height and strength from confidence and comfort in ones identity. Wearing my own crown not out of superiority over others but rather acknowledging just how wonderfully unique and fabulous I am -- and loving other women so that they can find and wear their own crown. Because there are plenty of crowns for everyone. Realizing that life is too short to get caught up in negativity and judgment and cliques -- that being kind to others is so much easier and more fulfilling. Kindness to another when they need it the most (not necessarily when they deserve it the most) is transformative and connective. One can be strong and tough while also being sweet and kind.
But mostly I can't wait to unplug and walk with nature. Walk with God.
Monday, October 2, 2017
The Mandalay Bay Shooting
Since my huge career change almost 2 years ago, I have become extremely dedicated and proud of what I do for a living. I don't get any kudos or credit - from the public, from my co-workers, or from the public. I am the first point of contact for someone who needs help, but I'm forgotten. I am the lifeline for my agency -- I gather information, get leads before officers arrive, check for warrants/officer safety issues before officers arrive, maintain order/calm, organize responses, maintain timeline records for report use later, and am expected to know EVERYTHING about EVERY situation for immediate recall (during or after an incident).
Last night, a terrible event occurred. A mass shooting at a country concert in one of my favorite cities in America. I woke up to the news this morning. And all I could do initially was cry. Cry because that's an event that I would absolutely attend. Cry for the fear that thousands experienced. Cry for the officers who only wanted to rush in and stop the incident but had a HUGE area of containment and a HUGE number of people to sift through to get to the bad guy. Cry for my fellow dispatchers who were inundated with calls, radio traffic, confusion, and stress. Cry for my country as it continues to struggle with division, hate, and violence.
But I wanted to share a few things here.
This is a radio recording on just one of the Las Vegas channels just after the shooting. As I listened to this, my heart couldn't have swollen with more pride for those dispatchers. They had complete control. They gave information. They remained calm. They facilitated the communication between officers when one officer didn't hear another. To put it simply -- they nailed it. And I am so so so proud of them. Not to mention they inspire me. To continue to push myself to excel in my field. To be the best dispatcher I can be. To foster continued trust and relationship with my officers so they know they can trust me and that I can do the job. My officers put their lives in my hands on a daily basis, and that is not a responsibility that I take lightly.
Another thing I wanted to share were some short videos that showed the attack as it began from a concert goers viewpoint. I was so stunned at the reaction. While there were screams, from what I saw, the chaos was relataively calm. There were people yelling to protect others ("Get down!"), people laying on top of others to protect them, yelling of when it was all clear (between magazines/clips depending on the weapon used) for people to make a mad dash. There were people stripping off their clothes to bandage wounds. Carrying wounded strangers to safety and medical care. For such a chaotic situation, people responded with common sense and relative order. I am so proud of them too. That's my America.
https://bluelivesmatter.blue/mandalay-bay-terrorist-attack-video/
https://www.buzzfeed.com/laurageiser/las-vegas-shooting-photos?bffbmain&ref=bffbmain&utm_term=.yirDWo9Jq#.aeWzR2M1k
But lastly -- I just want to share my prayer that this nation will stop pointing fingers at each other and instead embrace eachother with love and acceptance. This judgment and hate has to go. This division has to go. This turmoil has to go. Turmoil is how evil wins! ("Our best weapon is turmoil." - Adolf Hitler)
Last night, a terrible event occurred. A mass shooting at a country concert in one of my favorite cities in America. I woke up to the news this morning. And all I could do initially was cry. Cry because that's an event that I would absolutely attend. Cry for the fear that thousands experienced. Cry for the officers who only wanted to rush in and stop the incident but had a HUGE area of containment and a HUGE number of people to sift through to get to the bad guy. Cry for my fellow dispatchers who were inundated with calls, radio traffic, confusion, and stress. Cry for my country as it continues to struggle with division, hate, and violence.
But I wanted to share a few things here.
This is a radio recording on just one of the Las Vegas channels just after the shooting. As I listened to this, my heart couldn't have swollen with more pride for those dispatchers. They had complete control. They gave information. They remained calm. They facilitated the communication between officers when one officer didn't hear another. To put it simply -- they nailed it. And I am so so so proud of them. Not to mention they inspire me. To continue to push myself to excel in my field. To be the best dispatcher I can be. To foster continued trust and relationship with my officers so they know they can trust me and that I can do the job. My officers put their lives in my hands on a daily basis, and that is not a responsibility that I take lightly.
Another thing I wanted to share were some short videos that showed the attack as it began from a concert goers viewpoint. I was so stunned at the reaction. While there were screams, from what I saw, the chaos was relataively calm. There were people yelling to protect others ("Get down!"), people laying on top of others to protect them, yelling of when it was all clear (between magazines/clips depending on the weapon used) for people to make a mad dash. There were people stripping off their clothes to bandage wounds. Carrying wounded strangers to safety and medical care. For such a chaotic situation, people responded with common sense and relative order. I am so proud of them too. That's my America.
https://bluelivesmatter.blue/mandalay-bay-terrorist-attack-video/
https://www.buzzfeed.com/laurageiser/las-vegas-shooting-photos?bffbmain&ref=bffbmain&utm_term=.yirDWo9Jq#.aeWzR2M1k
But lastly -- I just want to share my prayer that this nation will stop pointing fingers at each other and instead embrace eachother with love and acceptance. This judgment and hate has to go. This division has to go. This turmoil has to go. Turmoil is how evil wins! ("Our best weapon is turmoil." - Adolf Hitler)
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
"When are you going to start having kids?"
As a young couple who is relatively new in their relationship as husband and wife, there is one question that is repeatedly peppered at you: "When are you going to start having kids?"
It doesn't matter how new you are in marriage. You could be hours into this rubix cube thing called marriage and at your reception, people are asking you this. You could be a year into your marriage, with your marriage in complete shreds around your feet and people are asking you this -- as if a child would be the miracle cure to all your marital troubles. You could be three years into your marriage, having just escaped the snare of Satan's grip on your marriage, with your marriage puzzle pieces together for the first time in three years, and people are asking you this. You could be five years into your marriage and struggling with infertility that no one else knows about, yet people ask you if you're ever going to have kids. You could be ten years into your marriage, choosing not to pursue parenthood for a million reasons, and people are asking you this.
I firmly believe that the majority of the time, this subject/question is brought up not maliciously, but rather for two reasons: 1. These people don't know what else to talk to you about. 2. These people are nosy as hell.
In this age of technology, we have forgotten how to converse with each other. So we rely on "safe" topics based on the other person's "stage" of life. High schooler? Ask about college. College student? Ask about career paths. Career woman? Ask about marriage. Married? Ask about kids. Married with kids? Ask how many more kids there will be. Married with more than three kids? Ask if they know about birth control. Married without kids? Continue asking about kids even if they have conveyed no desire to have children.
There are so many things about this line of questioning that make me want to scream.
Making the choice to have a family is not one that should be taken lightly. And putting pressure on a couple who is being responsible about not rushing into children is minimizing the weight of that decision! Children are a forever choice. And for some couples, that's not something that fits them. AND THAT'S OKAY. We need to stop expecting other people to follow a path that is exactly like ours. We have no idea what is going on between that couple behind closed doors.
Maybe they've been trying for years. Maybe they've had miscarriage after miscarriage. Maybe they can't afford IVF. Maybe adoption is too expensive. Maybe they've been putting on a brave face for the world, but maybe in private their mental health makes it difficult to shower let alone care for another human being. Maybe they just realized their partner has been unfaithful. Maybe they're in marital counseling because their relationship with their spouse is unhealthy. Maybe they just don't want the responsibility of children - maybe they like their independence and freedom. Maybe they think they're not with the right partner. Maybe there is domestic abuse behind closed doors and that woman has had abortions to prevent the child from entering a world of abuse. Or maybe they wanted that child but their partner forced them to get an abortion.
For us, my mental health was unstable due to toxic work environments and demands. Then our marriage was unhealthy. Then it was shattered, and we wondered if we could put the pieces back together. Then we were in therapy. We have only just recently emerged from battle. We were battered, bruised, shaken. We need time to heal. We need time to be healthy in our relationship for the first time ever. And we need time to enjoy that health before our foundation is threatened/shook again by a child.
Children are a gift. They are a joy. But they are a big big choice. A choice that not everyone will choose. A choice that not everyone will rush towards. And children need to stop being an expectation from a relationship as well as in conversation.
The choice to have children is none of your business if you are not one of the two in the relationship. Your unsolicited advice, pressure, and judgment is inappropriate.
Furthermore, it should NEVER be used against a woman that she doesn't have children. Phrases such as "You'll understand if you ever have children," "You don't understand until you have children," "I'm a mother so I know," etc should not be used. While a mothers love is not understood until one has a child, phrases such as these minimize women who don't have children. These phrases suggest that unless you have children, you have less to contribute to society. That you are less of a woman. These phrases shut down and shut out others.
We should not be finding ways to slight others, to clamor for superiority over another woman. I'm so sick of that. We are capable of respecting each other without having this subtle, back handed fight for superiority.
I know for me personally, that these comments and questions are a sure fire fast way to get me to put a wall up between me and the person making these comments/questions. Ask me these things, make comments like that, and I'm not interested in much of what you have to say. My respect stock goes down in those who are this nosy/unoriginal/rude. And yes, this also goes for family members.
I have point blank told family members to stop asking me these questions because it's none of their business - that when we're pregnant, they'll know about it. That our timeline has no impact on their daily lives. That comments such as that are un-necessary and are a slap to my face because I'm not a mother yet. They don't like my honesty. They don't like me calling them out. But they come to respect it and my viewpoint. I remind them that I don't tell them when it's time to make major life decisions and they need to give me the same respect. I remind them that unless I bring it up, I don't really want to talk about it. Because constantly being reminded that I'm not a mother is hard for me.
At this point, the fact that I'm childless is not because of infertility, domestic abuse, etc. It's because we aren't ready. Despite the fact that I long to have a family, I recognize that we'd be rushing things and would put my marriage at risk. So constantly asking me about children or putting me down because I don't have children is another hot poker to my emotional heart. I don't need that reminder. I don't need that pain. I don't need to feel any worse about myself than I already do (hello insecurities). I don't need judgment or to be minimized.
Infertility may become an issue once we're emotionally ready for children. And if that does happen, I really don't want to hear these questions/comments/criticisms. No woman would.
So let's stop asking these questions. Let's stop making these comments. Let's stop pressuring other women into a decision. Let's stop passing judgment on women because they aren't mothers.
Let's instead invest in each other. Get to know the other person for who they are. As they are. Whether they have children or not.
It doesn't matter how new you are in marriage. You could be hours into this rubix cube thing called marriage and at your reception, people are asking you this. You could be a year into your marriage, with your marriage in complete shreds around your feet and people are asking you this -- as if a child would be the miracle cure to all your marital troubles. You could be three years into your marriage, having just escaped the snare of Satan's grip on your marriage, with your marriage puzzle pieces together for the first time in three years, and people are asking you this. You could be five years into your marriage and struggling with infertility that no one else knows about, yet people ask you if you're ever going to have kids. You could be ten years into your marriage, choosing not to pursue parenthood for a million reasons, and people are asking you this.
I firmly believe that the majority of the time, this subject/question is brought up not maliciously, but rather for two reasons: 1. These people don't know what else to talk to you about. 2. These people are nosy as hell.
In this age of technology, we have forgotten how to converse with each other. So we rely on "safe" topics based on the other person's "stage" of life. High schooler? Ask about college. College student? Ask about career paths. Career woman? Ask about marriage. Married? Ask about kids. Married with kids? Ask how many more kids there will be. Married with more than three kids? Ask if they know about birth control. Married without kids? Continue asking about kids even if they have conveyed no desire to have children.
There are so many things about this line of questioning that make me want to scream.
Making the choice to have a family is not one that should be taken lightly. And putting pressure on a couple who is being responsible about not rushing into children is minimizing the weight of that decision! Children are a forever choice. And for some couples, that's not something that fits them. AND THAT'S OKAY. We need to stop expecting other people to follow a path that is exactly like ours. We have no idea what is going on between that couple behind closed doors.
Maybe they've been trying for years. Maybe they've had miscarriage after miscarriage. Maybe they can't afford IVF. Maybe adoption is too expensive. Maybe they've been putting on a brave face for the world, but maybe in private their mental health makes it difficult to shower let alone care for another human being. Maybe they just realized their partner has been unfaithful. Maybe they're in marital counseling because their relationship with their spouse is unhealthy. Maybe they just don't want the responsibility of children - maybe they like their independence and freedom. Maybe they think they're not with the right partner. Maybe there is domestic abuse behind closed doors and that woman has had abortions to prevent the child from entering a world of abuse. Or maybe they wanted that child but their partner forced them to get an abortion.
For us, my mental health was unstable due to toxic work environments and demands. Then our marriage was unhealthy. Then it was shattered, and we wondered if we could put the pieces back together. Then we were in therapy. We have only just recently emerged from battle. We were battered, bruised, shaken. We need time to heal. We need time to be healthy in our relationship for the first time ever. And we need time to enjoy that health before our foundation is threatened/shook again by a child.
Children are a gift. They are a joy. But they are a big big choice. A choice that not everyone will choose. A choice that not everyone will rush towards. And children need to stop being an expectation from a relationship as well as in conversation.
The choice to have children is none of your business if you are not one of the two in the relationship. Your unsolicited advice, pressure, and judgment is inappropriate.
Furthermore, it should NEVER be used against a woman that she doesn't have children. Phrases such as "You'll understand if you ever have children," "You don't understand until you have children," "I'm a mother so I know," etc should not be used. While a mothers love is not understood until one has a child, phrases such as these minimize women who don't have children. These phrases suggest that unless you have children, you have less to contribute to society. That you are less of a woman. These phrases shut down and shut out others.
We should not be finding ways to slight others, to clamor for superiority over another woman. I'm so sick of that. We are capable of respecting each other without having this subtle, back handed fight for superiority.
I know for me personally, that these comments and questions are a sure fire fast way to get me to put a wall up between me and the person making these comments/questions. Ask me these things, make comments like that, and I'm not interested in much of what you have to say. My respect stock goes down in those who are this nosy/unoriginal/rude. And yes, this also goes for family members.
I have point blank told family members to stop asking me these questions because it's none of their business - that when we're pregnant, they'll know about it. That our timeline has no impact on their daily lives. That comments such as that are un-necessary and are a slap to my face because I'm not a mother yet. They don't like my honesty. They don't like me calling them out. But they come to respect it and my viewpoint. I remind them that I don't tell them when it's time to make major life decisions and they need to give me the same respect. I remind them that unless I bring it up, I don't really want to talk about it. Because constantly being reminded that I'm not a mother is hard for me.
At this point, the fact that I'm childless is not because of infertility, domestic abuse, etc. It's because we aren't ready. Despite the fact that I long to have a family, I recognize that we'd be rushing things and would put my marriage at risk. So constantly asking me about children or putting me down because I don't have children is another hot poker to my emotional heart. I don't need that reminder. I don't need that pain. I don't need to feel any worse about myself than I already do (hello insecurities). I don't need judgment or to be minimized.
Infertility may become an issue once we're emotionally ready for children. And if that does happen, I really don't want to hear these questions/comments/criticisms. No woman would.
So let's stop asking these questions. Let's stop making these comments. Let's stop pressuring other women into a decision. Let's stop passing judgment on women because they aren't mothers.
Let's instead invest in each other. Get to know the other person for who they are. As they are. Whether they have children or not.
2am
This is my favorite time of year. When it's warm outside, but there's a cool breeze. When the sun sets, the air feels crisper, fresher. You start to contemplate pants, boots, sweaters, and jackets. You begin to crave coffee, hot chocolate, hot apple cider, and crock pot meals. It only gets better from here as far as I'm concerned. The next 9 months are my favorite months of the year...
This is my favorite time of night. The whole world is still. The dogs are sleeping. The crickets are chirping. The windows are open and fresh air floats into the house, pushing the old, recycled air out. It's quiet. I'll put on a classical station on pandora on a low volume -- just enough to be barely heard noise. And I'll dive into the pool of feelings. This is when I am most reflective. When my craving to write is more than just a craving -- it's a need.
I wonder. Marvel. I am in awe.
Of the life God has given me. Of how he has worked in my life; to open doors. To shut others. To help me through struggle, fear, doubt. Of this world I get the pleasure to live in -- how marvelous is his creation!
I reflect.
On how I am choosing to spend my time. Do I need to adjust my priorities? Is there an area in which I need to be more aware? Is there an area in which I am too attentive/obsessive?
I dream.
Of where I might be going next. Of how I might be used by God in the future.
Will he finally stir me to write a book? What will it be about? Will it be fictional or will it be a testimonial?
Will he challenge me to begin speaking - sharing my testimony, sharing my struggle, sharing my triumph?
Will I stay where I am? Will I return to where I was? Will I be pulled into a totally different career?
Will I become a mother?
This is my favorite time of night. The whole world is still. The dogs are sleeping. The crickets are chirping. The windows are open and fresh air floats into the house, pushing the old, recycled air out. It's quiet. I'll put on a classical station on pandora on a low volume -- just enough to be barely heard noise. And I'll dive into the pool of feelings. This is when I am most reflective. When my craving to write is more than just a craving -- it's a need.
I wonder. Marvel. I am in awe.
Of the life God has given me. Of how he has worked in my life; to open doors. To shut others. To help me through struggle, fear, doubt. Of this world I get the pleasure to live in -- how marvelous is his creation!
I reflect.
On how I am choosing to spend my time. Do I need to adjust my priorities? Is there an area in which I need to be more aware? Is there an area in which I am too attentive/obsessive?
I dream.
Of where I might be going next. Of how I might be used by God in the future.
Will he finally stir me to write a book? What will it be about? Will it be fictional or will it be a testimonial?
Will he challenge me to begin speaking - sharing my testimony, sharing my struggle, sharing my triumph?
Will I stay where I am? Will I return to where I was? Will I be pulled into a totally different career?
Will I become a mother?
Sunday, September 10, 2017
I'm weird.
I'm such a weird person.
I like quilting, crocheting, and all sorts of craft mediums.
I like foot ball. A lot. And baseball. And curling. Curling is awesome. Probably the only Olympic Sport I could ever even consider.
I like Christian music. I also like club dance music, 90s rap, rock, and oldies.
I do not really care about TV. But I love to relax on the couch and watch it.
I love working out. I like improving my strength and proving people wrong - especially when they make conclusions about me based on my size. I like feeling like I did something good for myself. I like feeling like I accomplished something.
I also really really really like to eat. Which is why I can't lose weight. Diets are of the devil.
I love shopping. But I also really like knowing that I'm already aggressively investing for retirement, unlike most people my age. So sometimes retirement planning gets in the way of my shopping.
But I am not materialistic -- I prefer to keep my house very neat and tidy and void of knick-knacks and excessive stuff (a result of growing up in a house that had stuff EVERYWHERE).
I am at heart a hippie -- I love nature, art, and artsy fartsy things. I like hiking. I like finding quiet places where I can just sit and be in awe of this Earth.
But I hate bugs. Especially spiders. I understand their ecological role but would prefer them all be dead.
I am not afraid of hard work -- I often surprise my husband when I jump in and just get things done around the house (trimming the hedges, mowing the lawn, replacing toilet parts, lugging tree limbs to the truck with the rest of the guys). I end up doing a lot of 'manly' chores around the house only because it needs to be done and to help my husband -- and honestly, I enjoy those things.
But I will not get near spider webs that need to be cleaned. Or install blinds. Or take the time to install a long curtain rod. I am perfectly capable of lifting the very heavy objects that need lifting, but why worry about it when my husband is available?
I hate cleaning a bathroom.
But I also hate having a messy/dirty/unkept house. So I clean the bathrooms too; even though I hate it.
I am a child of God.
With a mind stuck in the gutter. It's a difficult place to be - trust me.
I want to be cute and dress cute and look cute.
But I'd rather be wearing a pair of exercise pants and oversized tshirt with a sports bra with my hair pulled back. Working at a gym was awesome - I got to wear my favorite clothes every day. And it was okay.
I want kids. Badly.
But I'm not sure I'm ready to be so self-less with my life and give up all my time and money.
Generally, I am a culmination of a crap ton of characteristics that just don't make any sense.
I like quilting, crocheting, and all sorts of craft mediums.
I like foot ball. A lot. And baseball. And curling. Curling is awesome. Probably the only Olympic Sport I could ever even consider.
I like Christian music. I also like club dance music, 90s rap, rock, and oldies.
I do not really care about TV. But I love to relax on the couch and watch it.
I love working out. I like improving my strength and proving people wrong - especially when they make conclusions about me based on my size. I like feeling like I did something good for myself. I like feeling like I accomplished something.
I also really really really like to eat. Which is why I can't lose weight. Diets are of the devil.
I love shopping. But I also really like knowing that I'm already aggressively investing for retirement, unlike most people my age. So sometimes retirement planning gets in the way of my shopping.
But I am not materialistic -- I prefer to keep my house very neat and tidy and void of knick-knacks and excessive stuff (a result of growing up in a house that had stuff EVERYWHERE).
I am at heart a hippie -- I love nature, art, and artsy fartsy things. I like hiking. I like finding quiet places where I can just sit and be in awe of this Earth.
But I hate bugs. Especially spiders. I understand their ecological role but would prefer them all be dead.
I am not afraid of hard work -- I often surprise my husband when I jump in and just get things done around the house (trimming the hedges, mowing the lawn, replacing toilet parts, lugging tree limbs to the truck with the rest of the guys). I end up doing a lot of 'manly' chores around the house only because it needs to be done and to help my husband -- and honestly, I enjoy those things.
But I will not get near spider webs that need to be cleaned. Or install blinds. Or take the time to install a long curtain rod. I am perfectly capable of lifting the very heavy objects that need lifting, but why worry about it when my husband is available?
I hate cleaning a bathroom.
But I also hate having a messy/dirty/unkept house. So I clean the bathrooms too; even though I hate it.
I am a child of God.
With a mind stuck in the gutter. It's a difficult place to be - trust me.
I want to be cute and dress cute and look cute.
But I'd rather be wearing a pair of exercise pants and oversized tshirt with a sports bra with my hair pulled back. Working at a gym was awesome - I got to wear my favorite clothes every day. And it was okay.
I want kids. Badly.
But I'm not sure I'm ready to be so self-less with my life and give up all my time and money.
Generally, I am a culmination of a crap ton of characteristics that just don't make any sense.
Friday, August 25, 2017
Fat to Fit: A Trainers Effect
So about two years ago, shortly after we bought our house, we joined a nearby gym. It was a satellite location that they put in a strip mall, but I liked that it was smaller -- I felt less intimidated. I'd gone through a really rough year - getting married was not what I'd expected it to be and I'd fallen into a deep depression - and as a result had gained a bunch of weight. I suddenly found myself a "fat girl," which was really hard to realize considering I used to be the "fit girl" who ran 3 miles 3-5 times a week, taught boot camp classes, enjoyed yoga, and ate very healthy.
But going from fit to fat shook me to my very core. It changed everything about me - my self confidence, my endurance, my strength, my faith, and even confidence in my education about health and wellness. As a "fat girl" for the second time around (I'd "beat it" once in college thanks to a nasty break up and anxiety driven anorexic behavior patterns), I didn't know where to start.
So my husband said: "Just go. Just start. Just do what you can."
So I did. I went and got on the elliptical. I stuck to that for a while. Then I played around with body weight exercises. I had no real direction. No real plan. I tried the Body Building .com app that made the plans for me, but I didn't like how slow those workouts went. I tried pinterest workouts, but didn't feel like I was balancing the muscle groups properly. Then a co-worker encouraged me to try the only group fitness class they offered at the satellite location -- a 30min high intensity boot camp class.
I showed up having no idea what to expect. But as a former trainer, I knew that there were plenty of modifications that could be given for ANY exercise and that as someone who was severely out of shape, my game plan was to simply do what I could and rest when I needed to.
I didn't know that the class would be outside. It was well into the 90's that day with heavy humidity. I didn't know that we'd run laps around the entire shopping strip - which was humiliating as I could barely run 300 feet at a time. I didn't know that we would be doing bear crawls up/down hills. I didn't know that we'd be doing a workout that required everyone to complete each task before being able to move on to the next task -- and that I was always the one holding the class up, that everyone would be standing around staring at me waiting for me to finish, because I wasn't allowed to "cut short" any reps.
I was surrounded by people who had been doing these workouts for months/years. They were used to it. The trainer offered no modifications and when I created a modification for myself I was singled out and humiliated again - I was told to return to the "full" exercise (to stop modifying), when I stopped for a moment to take a breath I was told that I could rest at the end of the workout (self initiated rest breaks were not allowed). That was the first time in my life that I legitimately thought I was going to pass out. The participants taking the class (that had been doing it for a while) laughed and joked "Oh yeah; I remember my first class." The trainer made continuous comments about why it's so important to make healthy eating choices (directing them at me, the fat girl). At one point I sat on a curb, dizzy with heat and exhaustion and dehydration (I literally couldn't see - portions of my vision had gone black), nearly about to puke, sweat pouring down my face, and I just started to silently cry. And there comes the trainer, squatting down in front of me: "Feeling like that sucks. But this is why you should never let yourself go."
I wanted to quit. Walk out. Crawl under a rock and die. But the humiliation was so extreme I felt like that wasn't an option.
I had stepped out on a limb, desperate for help and direction in my journey towards losing the weight and regaining back everything I had lost. And instead of being treated with kindness and respect -- because lets face it, it takes IMMENSE bravery as a fat girl to sign up for a boot camp class -- I was treated like dirt. I was talked down to. I was made fun of. I was given no mercy or encouragement at all. I was bullied. I was made to feel worthless, unimportant, and like a failure.
As a former trainer, I knew that everything this girl was doing and saying was wrong. But as a fat girl who had lost all of her confidence, what was done and said to me cut me deeply. I left that workout broken. I left that workout believing that there was no point in me even trying to be better or get better.
It's been two years. Yet even now there are times when that workout comes back to me vividly. I return to feeling broken, worthless, like a failure, pointless. It renders me to tears every time that workout comes back to me.
Every time I walk into that gym, I still feel like I'm inadequate. That I shouldn't be taking up space and air there. And to this day I'm too scared to try a boot camp class. I'll sign up for a HIIT class. But I won't sign up for a boot camp class.
Since then, I accidentally took a Zumba class by that same trainer at another location. She remembered me. And in the mic, in front of the whole class, she recalled that boot camp class: "Oh, you're the one that cried, aren't you?" I wanted to yell at her -- "Yes. And you're the trainer that doesn't care - who is not good at their job, who doesn't recognize when limits are reached, and who believes that bullying someone is good for them." But I didn't. I was mortified in front of another class for being identified as the crier. So I just nodded and was nothing but miserable during that class too.
I recall this story because I think trainers forget just how influential they are. That it only takes one bad trainer to forever scar a client against trainers/classes/fitness. That one class with experiences like that does NOT inspire a fat girl to be better. In fact, it sets her back. WAY back. I'm still fat two years later. I struggle even more with feelings of inadequacy and failure and worth. The emotional damage that can be done is real.
Trainers should not treat their unfit clients like dirt. It takes more courage as an unfit person to not just go to the gym but to SIGN UP FOR A CLASS than it does a fit person. The unfit person is where you as a trainer have the PERFECT OPPORTUNITY to HELP someone in NEED. The fit people are easy to train -- they can take anything. But it's the unfit people who need you the most, who need your guidance, your encouragement, your appropriate tough love. It's the unfit people who are the toughest because they're there, willing to accept your direction and advice. But that does not give you the right to demean or diminish them. There is a difference between challenging someone/showing someone that they can do more than they think they can and bullying/demeaning them.
I have taken other classes from other trainers and had wonderful experiences. But that one horrible (and first) experience as a fat girl continues to haunt me. It continues to make me second guess and often just not sign up for classes that I know I need. It continues to plague me with feelings of failure and inferiority and unworthiness. It only takes one trainer, one nightmare workout, to do serious damage. I plead to the trainers out there: don't be that one.
But going from fit to fat shook me to my very core. It changed everything about me - my self confidence, my endurance, my strength, my faith, and even confidence in my education about health and wellness. As a "fat girl" for the second time around (I'd "beat it" once in college thanks to a nasty break up and anxiety driven anorexic behavior patterns), I didn't know where to start.
So my husband said: "Just go. Just start. Just do what you can."
So I did. I went and got on the elliptical. I stuck to that for a while. Then I played around with body weight exercises. I had no real direction. No real plan. I tried the Body Building .com app that made the plans for me, but I didn't like how slow those workouts went. I tried pinterest workouts, but didn't feel like I was balancing the muscle groups properly. Then a co-worker encouraged me to try the only group fitness class they offered at the satellite location -- a 30min high intensity boot camp class.
I showed up having no idea what to expect. But as a former trainer, I knew that there were plenty of modifications that could be given for ANY exercise and that as someone who was severely out of shape, my game plan was to simply do what I could and rest when I needed to.
I didn't know that the class would be outside. It was well into the 90's that day with heavy humidity. I didn't know that we'd run laps around the entire shopping strip - which was humiliating as I could barely run 300 feet at a time. I didn't know that we would be doing bear crawls up/down hills. I didn't know that we'd be doing a workout that required everyone to complete each task before being able to move on to the next task -- and that I was always the one holding the class up, that everyone would be standing around staring at me waiting for me to finish, because I wasn't allowed to "cut short" any reps.
I was surrounded by people who had been doing these workouts for months/years. They were used to it. The trainer offered no modifications and when I created a modification for myself I was singled out and humiliated again - I was told to return to the "full" exercise (to stop modifying), when I stopped for a moment to take a breath I was told that I could rest at the end of the workout (self initiated rest breaks were not allowed). That was the first time in my life that I legitimately thought I was going to pass out. The participants taking the class (that had been doing it for a while) laughed and joked "Oh yeah; I remember my first class." The trainer made continuous comments about why it's so important to make healthy eating choices (directing them at me, the fat girl). At one point I sat on a curb, dizzy with heat and exhaustion and dehydration (I literally couldn't see - portions of my vision had gone black), nearly about to puke, sweat pouring down my face, and I just started to silently cry. And there comes the trainer, squatting down in front of me: "Feeling like that sucks. But this is why you should never let yourself go."
I wanted to quit. Walk out. Crawl under a rock and die. But the humiliation was so extreme I felt like that wasn't an option.
I had stepped out on a limb, desperate for help and direction in my journey towards losing the weight and regaining back everything I had lost. And instead of being treated with kindness and respect -- because lets face it, it takes IMMENSE bravery as a fat girl to sign up for a boot camp class -- I was treated like dirt. I was talked down to. I was made fun of. I was given no mercy or encouragement at all. I was bullied. I was made to feel worthless, unimportant, and like a failure.
As a former trainer, I knew that everything this girl was doing and saying was wrong. But as a fat girl who had lost all of her confidence, what was done and said to me cut me deeply. I left that workout broken. I left that workout believing that there was no point in me even trying to be better or get better.
It's been two years. Yet even now there are times when that workout comes back to me vividly. I return to feeling broken, worthless, like a failure, pointless. It renders me to tears every time that workout comes back to me.
Every time I walk into that gym, I still feel like I'm inadequate. That I shouldn't be taking up space and air there. And to this day I'm too scared to try a boot camp class. I'll sign up for a HIIT class. But I won't sign up for a boot camp class.
Since then, I accidentally took a Zumba class by that same trainer at another location. She remembered me. And in the mic, in front of the whole class, she recalled that boot camp class: "Oh, you're the one that cried, aren't you?" I wanted to yell at her -- "Yes. And you're the trainer that doesn't care - who is not good at their job, who doesn't recognize when limits are reached, and who believes that bullying someone is good for them." But I didn't. I was mortified in front of another class for being identified as the crier. So I just nodded and was nothing but miserable during that class too.
I recall this story because I think trainers forget just how influential they are. That it only takes one bad trainer to forever scar a client against trainers/classes/fitness. That one class with experiences like that does NOT inspire a fat girl to be better. In fact, it sets her back. WAY back. I'm still fat two years later. I struggle even more with feelings of inadequacy and failure and worth. The emotional damage that can be done is real.
Trainers should not treat their unfit clients like dirt. It takes more courage as an unfit person to not just go to the gym but to SIGN UP FOR A CLASS than it does a fit person. The unfit person is where you as a trainer have the PERFECT OPPORTUNITY to HELP someone in NEED. The fit people are easy to train -- they can take anything. But it's the unfit people who need you the most, who need your guidance, your encouragement, your appropriate tough love. It's the unfit people who are the toughest because they're there, willing to accept your direction and advice. But that does not give you the right to demean or diminish them. There is a difference between challenging someone/showing someone that they can do more than they think they can and bullying/demeaning them.
I have taken other classes from other trainers and had wonderful experiences. But that one horrible (and first) experience as a fat girl continues to haunt me. It continues to make me second guess and often just not sign up for classes that I know I need. It continues to plague me with feelings of failure and inferiority and unworthiness. It only takes one trainer, one nightmare workout, to do serious damage. I plead to the trainers out there: don't be that one.
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