a thousand little wars i have to choose between

This weekend was one of the best in the recent weeks and also a bit difficult. It was one of the best because we had fancy date night, spent time with friends, and started shopping for Christmas decorations. But it was the end of a week long struggle with weight loss, injury, and exercise.

Saturday night, we dressed up. My husband wore a tie, and I wore both eyeshadow and eyeliner. I may have even put on some lipstick, and he bought new shoes. It was a big deal, and I loved every minute of it. Before leaving the house, we had my father-in-law snap a few pictures.

Looking at those pictures, I have a hard time recognizing myself. My waist looks small and my face thinner. It's not the girl I see when I look in the mirror or the girl I saw on Sunday at Kohl's while trying on clothes that didn't quite fit.

I had a choice on Sunday. It was a choice of how to respond to the clothes that didn't fit at Kohl's.

I was sad. And mad. And frustrated. And mad at myself again. And disappointted.

But those emotions did not have to define what my response would be. It was my choice to define my response. There was a part of me that wanted to eat. A part of me that thought that it just wasn't worth trying so hard some weeks and not so hard other weeks. A part of me that felt like it was time to give up.

There was another part of me, though, that knew that choice would be the wrong one. So I chose to do the best I could and remind myself that I would not give up. I took to twitter then.

I can't say I was perfect Sunday night, but rather than eat comfort food like I wanted to (pizza, pasta, and bread--oh my!), I had some leftovers and a small velveeta macaroni and cheese. And then I finished dinner off with some Skinny Cow ice cream. Not perfect but a much better than anything smothered in cheese, fried, or greasy.

I'm still dealing with recognizing myself. Pants that once barely fit are now too loose. Shirts I once loved I can no longer wear because they fall of me. And all the while, I have no idea what size fits me or what sort of clothes I should wear with this new body I find myself in.

I did well on Monday. Making healthy choices. Tracking everything. Drinking lots of water. Skipping out on the wonder that is Starbuck's Gingerbread Lattes. Getting a lower calorie sandwich from Panera Bread instead of a delicious, hot, melty panini.

And I worked out on Monday too. I had plans to work out over the weekend, but between barely being able to walk Sunday and working Saturday morning, I rested at home rather than sweating on the elliptical or surviving a spin class.

Breaking a sweat Monday felt good. Great even. I pounded out two miles on the elliptical - a mixture of speed and incline. Then I pushed myself with heavier lifting and finished with some ab work. I know strength training and more intense cardio is the way to go but getting out of my comfort zone - moving away from someone telling me what to do or just using the machines - is daunting.

You know what else is daunting? Never fitting into a smaller size. Always seeing the girl from Kohl's in the mirror. And it's not daunting in a good way. So that's why I am going to remember all the reason why I need to get back on track and just do it.

(title from "strip me" by natasha bedingfield)

i am never broken

9:00pm comes, and for the first time all day, I am ready to write. I've rested on the couch and had dinner. We have laughed over a sitcom streaming on Netflix and also watched an episode of Design Star. The house is cooling down, after my leaving the broiler on for too long. The glass from the broken wine glass is picked up.

Instead of opening my MacBook and typing, I force myself off the couch and then climb into bed with my husband and two dogs. It is a night of almost seven hours of sleep. In the past, seven hours of sleep would be nowhere near enough, but now, with leaving for the gym at 5am most work days, I cherish any sleep over six hours.

So often, in the midst of a busy day at work or while navigating my car through traffic, ideas come to me. Realizations. Questions. Thoughts on life, on love, on faith, on journeying through all the ups and downs that accompany any and every little thing.

And then, when there is time to write, the ideas dissipate. Or the need and desire for sleep wins out.

This time of my life, this journey, is about so much. One of those things is deciding what matters in my life. It's about putting certain things and people first. It's about disentangling myself from the things that hold me back. It's about forgiving myself and others for past mistakes so that I can move on - never again to be captured by those emotions of anger, anxiety, and uncertainty.

And the things that matter include exercise, cooking, laundry, writing, reading. And the people that matter include my husband, our families, our friends, and our two dogs (because they are more people than pets).

Deciding what matters in my life is just one piece of this neverending puzzle. The other piece that I am struggling with currently is finding and making and keeping time for all the important things and people.

It's so easy for me to put myself last. To make everything into an excuse for why I can't do something like eat better or spend at least two hours at the gym every day. For so long, I did everything I could to stay where I was. To continue to hide in whatever fashion I could. To put everything else first and remind myself that eventually there would be time.

But there is never enough time unless you make the time. Life is so full with jobs, marriages, friends, and all that goes into living the life of a 26-year-old professional. It's all to easy to stay in a coccoon of life. To never move past this stage and into the next. To never become that butterfly.

I had to come to grips with the fact that my cocoon was not the safe place. The cocoon was the suffocating place, the place where my vicious cycle continued and I asked, Why is there no light? Why am I stuck here? without actually finding an answer. The cocoon was tight and uncomfortable, not safe and inviting--a trap, not a haven. And the more I wrapped myself in layersand layers of protective coating, the harder it was to emerge from that false sense of security. It was not until later that I realized a cocoon is not a sweet escape from life. It is the absence of life. --Abby Rike, Working It Out

I haven't spent my entire life in a cocoon. There have been moments of beauty and brilliance. Moments when I was so close to understanding who I was. Moments when I felt like I officially beat every demon and had cleaned out every skeleton in my closet.

And then something would happen. I would retreat back into the cocoon. I would pull myself in and wrap myself in something - anything - to hide. Sometimes it was extra weight. Other times an unnatural looking tan. Sometimes losing too much weight.

I had my mother send me pictures from these moments. And I have every intention of going through them all and understanding who I was in that moment and why I was that way. I have every hope of sharing those understandings here and moving on. Because it is time to leave the cocoon permanently. There will be no going back this time.

9:00pm comes, and for the first time all day, I am ready to write. I've rested on the couch and had dinner. We have laughed over a sitcom streaming on Netflix and also watched an episode of Design Star. The house is cooling down, after my leaving the broiler on for too long. The glass from the broken wine glass is picked up.
Exercising is part of leaving the cocoon. Eating healthy is as well. Opening myself up is another part. And I am doing all three of these things all at once. Even on the days when I feel like doing nothing of the sort. Also on days when I feel like I have already blown it and wonder why I should even keep trying.

But that's the thing. Those days will happen. Always. It's my choice to make on how they impact me. And this time, for the first time, I choose to not allow those days to keep me from moving forward. I refuse to let anything stop me.

(title from "hands" by jewel)

in times like these

picture found here.

I planned to stop at McDonald's this morning. An iced, vanilla coffee started to call my name as soon as I left the house. My stomach upset, and the hint of a headache (which has lingered for almost three days now) sneaking up on me.

The plan stuck with me as I navigated I-35, and I pulled off onto the exit and then into the parking lot. The line was wrapped around McDonald's. I grunted and then pulled into a parking spot.

And then I paused. I was already running late. And my eyes were not drooping.

Instead of turning off the car, I shifted into reverse and then left the parking lot. No coffee in hand.

Every now and then, I think God uses His sense of humor to speak to me in situations like this. I see it as His way of reminding to let go of my expectations, to let go of my desire for these worldly things. Coffee is fine, yes, but it's better when made at home (or replaced by a homemade chai tea latter). Picking up an iced coffee from McDonald's is all right in moderation, but when money is tight and I am praying for a way for it to be not so tight, I need to let go of the comforts I think I deserve all the time.

I go back and forth on this. I want the comforts of this life. Even though I know they are just comforts and not necessities. And sometimes my want of the comforts of the life take over, and I lose sight of the important things.

Because I do want to enjoy the simple things in life. And I do want to live a more simplistic lifestyle. I hope that my everyday story will reflect His story. Only I want all of this on my own terms, and that just isn't the way it works.

My husband and I sponsor a child in Haiti through Compassion International. It's a pledge we made early on in our marriage. Letters from our child hang on the refrigerator, and I write him through email or by putting pen to paper. A week ago, I considered discontinuing our sponsorship of him.

It would be an extra $32 in our bank account. And is this something we can really afford? Thinking back now I realize how selfish and ridiculous it would have been to end the sponsorship. Maybe if things were really tight. In the sense of there was no income entering our bank account. But right now when I want extra breathing room to make the purchases I deem important?

Thank goodness it is not an easy point and click process to end a sponsorship. Thank goodness that just days later we received a letter from the child we sponsored. And thank goodness I have a husband who would have told me I was wrong and then re-sponsored the child had I successfully ended the sponsorship.

I have this lie circulating in my head that I shouldn't have to suffer. That things should just come easily. It's a lie I battle every day as I remind myself that suffering will only make us stronger. It's a lie I battle every day as I tell myself that God has a plan and that He will use all of this for my good and His glory. And it is a lie I (try to) combat by reminding myself that God loves me enough to not just give me all the things I want. He wants me to learn how to work for things, and He wants me to understand what struggle is so that I can later on show compassion to others who struggle.

I've also bought into the lie that comfort is important. Of the utmost importance. It's a lie I think we as a country as we as a generation buy into. We want the most up to date technology. We look for the easiest way to cook, to shop, to do everything.

And comfort is not the most important thing. Vacations are important, yes. Rest is necessary. We do all deserve a break at some point, yes. But this idea that comfort will take care of everything is nothing but a lie. It sets us all up for failure and frustration when we are unable to achieve the amount of comfort we feel like we should.

For me, it has to do with vacations. I want a chance to go to the beach, to sip drinks on the beach and sleep in as late as I want. I want to jump on a plane and fly to Michigan or California at the drop of a hat. It also has to do with things. I want a new computer. I want a different couch for my living room. I want things that I already have, but I would prefer to have the better kind of thing.

So God used a long line at McDonald's to remind me that I do not need of any of these things. He used the $2 I didn't spend on an iced vanilla coffee to remind me that I need a shift in my perspective.

The question now is what do I do. First, I continue to get out of my own way. I also continue to stop making excuses. And I remind myself every morning what is important (and what is not). And then I leave the rest up to Him. Because I'm not in control of anything.

Has God ever given you a change of perspective?

(title from "hands" by jewel)