The "meaning" in change

Following my training session on Friday I had a talk with my trainer, Kathryn. I was asking her about something she had posted on her FaceBook page regarding self-acceptance. I’m paraphrasing here, but it was something to the effect that building a skill, then acknowledging the effort and what you learn from that experience helps increase self-confidence, i.e., self-acceptance.

I remember reading that and thinking, “That’s exactly what I struggle with!” (Well, okay, to be honest, it’s ONE thing I struggle with on a list of many, but I digress…) I struggle with acknowledging effort. For example: I’ve been going to the gym 2-3 times a week for 5 months (give or take a week). For me, that is astounding! And yet, I don’t feel “good” about that because even with all that effort, I’m still not where I want to be. I look in the mirror and I’m still that 300lb hippo that is disgusting, gross and never going to amount to anything.

In my mind I see the “end” goal of what I want – to be that healthy, thin, athletic version of myself – but where I am right now is sooooo far from where I want to be that I feel like I’m never going to make it.

Here’s another example: In the last 5 months I’ve lost about 15 pounds. Which should be great, right? But it’s not. 15 pounds is nothing when you need to lose 100! Additionally, because I have so much to lose, I don’t see any difference when I look in the mirror. I may be down 15 pounds, but I don’t look like it – I don’t see the results and that is so discouraging. Yes, I know that losing any weight is better than even just maintaining, and certainly better than gaining, but knowing that doesn’t help me in the moment because I’m just so frustrated at not being where I want to be.

This sounds a lot like the “I’ll be happy when…” syndrome, doesn’t it? (I don’t even know if it has an official name – If it doesn’t, it should!) But what I’m describing goes much, much deeper than happiness. I'm not saying “I’ll be happy when I’m thin and athletic.” What I’m really saying is, “I’ll be acceptable when I’m thin and athletic!” That is a reflection of my very identity, of my beliefs, of my past traumas, of my thoughts – everything!

I don’t know how to express that this is so much more significant than just happiness! Acceptance is huge! Every single day there are people who “fall in with the wrong crowd,” even when that includes criminal behavior, because they are accepted by them. This is why so many people turn to plastic surgery, because they think they need it to be acceptable. Every day, people who don’t feel like they are acceptable, turn to drugs, alcohol, pornography, gambling and any other kind of addiction, because it takes away the pain of not being acceptable, of not being good enough, of not measuring up. Every day, people commit suicide – because they don’t fit in, because they aren’t acceptable and because they don’t see any other way out of that worthless condition. I know what that feels like.

I see it every time I look in the mirror. I am unacceptable this way. That’s what I see. I don’t want to be thin and healthy because I want to be thin and healthy. I want to be thin and healthy because I won’t be acceptable until I am… It becomes a matter of life or death. I can’t enjoy the journey, because the journey doesn’t matter – only the outcome matters. I can’t acknowledge the effort – or celebrate the wins – because unless the effort results in being thin, healthy and athletic then it doesn’t mean anything or won’t mean anything until that far off day arrives.

So no, I can’t acknowledge my effort in going to the gym more consistently than ever before. No, I can’t feel good about the increased conditioning I have experienced in greater work capacity and shorter rest times. No, I can’t celebrate losing 15 pounds in 5 months; because even with all that – I’m still fat. Still fat, gross and disgusting. Morbidly obese, according to the medical establishment.

And I hate that I know that that’s wrong!! I hate it when what I know and what I feel aren’t congruent!! (Welcome to the life of an INFJ, I guess…) I KNOW I should be celebrating every win – no matter how small. But all of this hinges on acceptance. Or, more accurately, how I define what I think “being acceptable” means.

[I really need to credit Ryan Holiday’s book “The Obstacle Is the Way” for what I’m about to share. Much of what I have been pondering stemmed from principles he outlines in his book – and I’ve only read the first two chapters!]

I look at my life – everything I’ve been through – and I see over and over, time and time again, that everything points to being unacceptable. Every occasion of neglect, every critical word or look, every insult or joke about my weight, the fact that I wasn’t protected from being sexually traumatized, etc, all of it – was purely because I was unacceptable.

Or was it?

In the last couple of weeks I have begun to realize this truth: It was not the events that proved I was unacceptable – it was the meaning I attached to the events that led me to believe I was unacceptable. (Please re-read that sentence a few times until you really “get it.”) In my young, innocent mind the only explanation that I could come up with, that consistently explained why these horrible things had happened to me was that there was something wrong with me – that at my core, I was unacceptable. This also took the form of being unworthy, undeserving, etc. But in each case, I was the one that ascribed that meaning to those events. It was my perception, my interpretation, my definition, whatever word you want to use, that formed my belief system regarding those events. That’s what we do, as people, as human beings, we try to make sense of things, right? We categorize things, we label things, we need names for everything, because we are constantly seeking meaning.

So what happens when you misinterpret something? What happens when you attach the wrong meaning to an event or circumstance? Well, you behave accordingly. You create an internal rule, or a belief filter, and everything that happens in your life gets viewed through that (warped?) filter. You then misinterpret other events and circumstances – especially, the behavior of others.

Think about it. You’re driving down the road and someone cuts you off. That’s the circumstance, but how you react to it, has very little to do with the actual event and significantly more to do with your interpretation of that event. If you decide that the other driver is a jerk, you get mad and yell and feel wronged. If you decide that the other driver is maybe having a personal emergency, say they’re on their way to the hospital where a loved one is seriously injured, you forgive them, you may even feel compassion for them and hope that they make it safely wherever their going. Totally different reactions, right? Why? Not because of the circumstance itself, but because of the meaning you give the circumstance. That’s it.

I look in the mirror and see an unacceptable guy, because that’s the meaning I gave to the circumstances of my life. Yes, I probably could blame others and be somewhat justified. I could blame all the strangers who have avoided me, or looked down on me with contempt, or pointed at me and laughed, or insulted me verbally for no reason. I could blame those neighbors whose perverted behavior damaged me psychologically and emotionally. I could blame all the friends in my life who turned their backs on me because I was too fat and ugly to fit in. I could blame my parents for the times they neglected and/or criticized me. I could blame God for knowing all that I would experience and not doing anything to stop it.

But would that blame do anything productive? It might make me feel justified in my innocence. It might make me feel like I’m the victim and therefore bear no responsibility for how sucky my life turned out. But unfortunately, blame also keeps me stuck. It keeps me revolving around things that I can’t do anything about. It keeps me stuck in the past. Ultimately, blame leaves me powerless because in order to blame others I have to give up the power to act for myself. I am left in a position where I can only react, which means I’m forever focused on what I can’t control.

That’s quite the dysfunctional box to be in! Is there a way out? Yes!! Thank God there is a way out! God has given us moral agency – meaning the ability to make choices, which means: even when I can’t change the circumstances of my life, I CAN CHANGE WHAT THEY MEAN!!

I can choose to decide that the meaning behind my friends’ rejection was more about their insecurity in those moments. I can choose to decide that my parents’ mistreatment of me had to do with carelessness or lack of awareness of their own behavior, or maybe they were just having some bad days, etc. In any case I can choose to believe that their mistreatment was more about what was going on inside of them, than what they thought of me. I can choose to believe that the reason my neighbors hurt me, wasn’t about me at all – it was about how broken and hurt they were and the horrible, dysfunctional way that they were trying to find comfort/safety.

But what about the really tough stuff? What about what I see in the mirror?

I guess I could continue to choose to believe that the guy I see in the mirror is fat, ugly, gross and worthless. Or… maybe I could choose to believe that he just got a little lost for a while. Maybe I could choose to believe that he found it kinder to blame himself than others. That maybe he felt so much charity for others that, when faced with only two (perceived) options, he chose to sacrifice himself instead of finding fault with everyone else. Maybe I can choose to believe that here is a guy who was always worthy of being loved, of being treated with respect; who was always deserving of his father’s time and his mother’s approval – whether he felt he got it or not. I can choose to believe that this guy is worth improving by losing weight and being healthy, not because he HAS to be in order to be acceptable, but maybe because he already IS acceptable and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to improve himself. It's okay to celebrate the wins. It's okay to dig in and enjoy the journey, because when it comes to self-improvement, there is no "end" to that process. It is not a journey of "destinations," it is a journey of milestones. When we reach one milestone, we aren't "done!" We set out for another, then another, and another....

We can’t always change our circumstances and I suppose that can make us feel powerless. But we can always choose to find - or change - the meaning in our circumstances and in that, there is great power.

Morbidly obese and... perfectly healthy?

So there's good news and there's bad news: The good news? My blood work came back perfect. Like, perfect! Everything right in the normal ranges where they should be. The test included testosterone, thyroid, inflammation markers, etc. [The only thing a little high was my blood pressure at 132/89, which is still totally in the acceptable range.] So I'm super happy about that! The bad news? My blood work came back perfect! (yeah, you read that right!) So how can "perfect" blood work be bad? Well, how can someone have perfect blood work and still be 100 pounds overweight? (And DON'T give me that "fat set point" garbage, 'cause I don't accept that!) It may sound crazy, but I was really hoping to find something that would explain why I'm sooooo overweight - and why it's been so hard to lose weight! So, I'm a little disappointed that I have perfect blood work. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to know I'm healthy on the inside, but that still doesn't mean I want an award for being the healthiest morbidly obese person on the planet!! I'm also kind of annoyed because people keep telling me that "once you're healthy on the inside the weight will just come off naturally!" Well that sounds about as wonderful as a butterfly farting roses, but it also doesn't seem to be the case with me and it's starting to feel like a big fat lie (pun intended!!)!! So what's it going to take? Continuing my investigation, I recently submitted a saliva sample to Fitness Genes, base out of the UK. Where they take a saliva sample and test your genetic profile to see what type of exercise/diet would be optimal for you genetically. Sounds cool, no? I won't get the results back for another month, however, so for the time being, I'm left with no option, but to keep doing what I'm doing. But I'm frustrated because I have no idea what I NEED to be doing to lose weight! What do you do when you're doing everything right, but not getting any results?

You're okay, you just don't know it yet...

Well this topic has been a long time coming. Literally. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for over a year. It’s something that I’ve wanted to write down, but just couldn’t and I didn’t really know why. I believe what I’m about to explain was given to me – inspired, I want to say, hopefully without sounding presumptuous.

But look, this is hard for me to say. It has to do with identity. It should be the most freeing thing in the world to say, “I am ______,” whatever; fill in the blank. But for me it’s not that easy.

I come from a very black and white world (i.e., shame-based), where you’re either good or bad; good enough or worthless, etc. In that world, I wasn’t good enough, so I presented a “false” me. The one who was “good enough;” obedient, calm, helpful to others; the one who was happy all the time; got along with everyone – a peacemaker, even; never really had any serious problems; jack of all trades, master of none; etc. Hard to find any downsides to those qualities, right? Maybe not overtly, but subtly, the downside is this: it was just an act. It wasn’t truly who I was. Everything I did, I did out of fear of being evaluated, then judged “unacceptable,” while secretly punishing the real me for NEEDING a façade. The only way I could ever complete the sentence, “I am ______,” was by saying “I am a worthless fraud.” THAT was my identity.

You can’t go through life presenting a false self to the world and expect to be accepted for who you are, let alone happy.

So I’ve spent a significant amount of energy diving into the shades of gray of being me and trying to sort out what I believe about who I am. Which shifted my belief from, “I am a fraud,” to “I am a mess!” (Hey, progress is progress!) Joking aside, though, so much of my identity has been caught up in being the victim. Wow, what a trap to be in! It feels justified in its innocence, as in, “I was innocent, I didn’t cause this trauma, it wasn’t my fault,” etc. But in order to be justified in innocence, you also have to be powerless, because a powerful person wouldn’t have let themselves be victimized (some flawed thinking here, but keep in mind that being hurt as a child doesn’t allow for logical/mature thinking). This is referred to as Locus of Control. Someone who has an External Locus of Control believes that everything that happens in life has a cause that is external to them, such as luck, time, circumstance, etc. This meshes really well with a victim mindset – everything that happens is outside my control; versus an Internal Locus of Control where the person views themselves as being in control of their own life.

I have rarely felt in control of my own life. That includes my identity – how I see myself. I have straddled the line between discovering who I am and creating who I am. And it’s the creation of who I am that I have a hard time with. “What if I fail to maintain that identity?” I ask myself. “What if I say, ‘I am – whatever’ and then find that I’m not?” For example, what if I say, “I’m a writer,” but then fail to be successful as a writer? That word “fail” is hard to get around.

I’m trying create some context for you to understand why what I’m about to share is so hard to say. There is so much fear in just trying to be me, when being me for so long just wasn’t good enough. I also know that I’m stalling. I don’t want to type it. I don’t want to say it out loud. Once I hit “publish” on this post, it’s out there. I don’t want to admit it because it means a monumental shift MUST take place accordingly. It means I must change how I think, how I feel, how I see myself, how I define myself, how I think of myself, how I present myself, how I interact with the world. It means I can never go back to being who I was. It means the death of the false self (who protected me for so long!) and the emergence of the real me…

Enough stalling.

Here it is:


I am okay.


Wow, that was hard! Can you just let that sink in for a minute? For me, the fear and doubt immediately come creeping in. “But what if I say I’m okay only to find that I’m not? What if I say I’m okay and then everyone expects me to be okay, but what if I’m really not? What if I just lied to myself? What if I can’t keep being okay? What if the real me really isn’t good enough?”

You know, one of the major problems with trauma and victimhood is that it creates an internal rule – I am not okay. (Variations are: I can’t be okay, I never will be okay, I don’t deserve to be okay, I’m not worth being okay, etc.) This rule is formed at such a young age that it seems immutable. Set in stone. Just the way things are.

You may not believe this, but I’m kind of lightheaded all of a sudden and feel inexplicably tired. I know this feeling. It’s resistance. It’s the struggle within myself that is taking so much energy that I want to shut down.

But I can’t.

I mustn’t.

I won’t.

“Come on, Micah, fight it!” I can hear a voice within me saying. “Keep going.” And now I’m nauseous. My brain is – foggy; I’m having a hard time concentrating. I just keep typing because I know I can’t stop. It feels like someone has invisible magnets all around me and I can feel the magnetic pull shifting in different directions, but I can’t see anything. [Is this what the moon feels like?! Oh crap, and now the lame jokes have started, that’s not a good sign…]

Okay, I just took a drink and some deep breaths.

Being okay is scary. It’s not at all familiar. It’s a paradox. Being okay actually means you can mess up, once in a while. Because even when you mess up, you’re still okay. Even when you make a mistake, you’re still okay. Even when you look stupid (especially looking stupid trying something new for the first time), you’re still okay. What a foreign concept for me!!

The message I received a year ago was really this: “Micah, you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

It was true. I received it, but I couldn’t admit it to myself. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to “be okay” in light of everything I’ve been through. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve prayed and asked Heavenly Father to tell me how to be okay with the things I’m not okay with! I’m not okay with being fat, yet I’m I supposed to be okay with myself that way? Not a chance!

But here I am. Letting whoever is reading this know – I’m okay.

I trust the Lord’s timing, but I wish I had been told this from the very beginning.

When I almost died at birth: “you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

When I was sexually traumatized: “you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

When I was neglected and criticized: “you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

When I was rejected socially for being too fat: “you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

When I was lonely and scared: “you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

When I was suicidal: “you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.”

I have always been okay, I just didn’t know it. I’m laughing and crying at the same time.

As much as I’ve needed this message – and continue to need it – I also want to share it with you. I don’t know who’s reading this. I don’t know what you’re going through in your life. Maybe things are great, and if so, I’m genuinely glad. Or maybe you’re just having a hard time with something and don’t know how to let anyone know. To you I want to say - you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.

I’m sorry for whatever hardship or trial you might be going through. Maybe you feel weighed down and hopeless, maybe you feel helpless and like a victim! Maybe you feel lonely and afraid. I promise you – you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet. It’s hard to wait for the sun when you’re in the middle of a storm, but I want you to know – you’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.

This is my first post of the year. I felt like this was the message that needed to be out there right now. May it guide all that I accomplish this year, but more than that, I hope this phrase will come to you IN THOSE MOMENTS when you feel afraid; when you feel out of your comfort zone; when you attempt to improve your life and encounter setbacks; when you experience uncertainty, doubt, and fear; when you’re doing all the right things, but challenges overwhelm you; when you’re feeling lonely and forgotten; I pray you’ll remember what I absolutely know in my heart is true:

You’re okay, you just don’t know it yet.

When learning hurts...

So I had a rough learning experience this week.

A little background to set the scene. I have been experiencing some inconsistent knee pain this last week during certain movements in workouts, like when squatting, or even just everyday activities, like going down stairs, getting in and out of my car, etc. I say inconsistent, because sometimes the pain is there and sometimes it's not - weird, I know. In any event, I met with my trainer for our weekly workout and I let him know about what's been going on. So we began the workout and he had me do some new exercises/movements to help investigate what might be causing that pain.

Pretty close to the end of our workout, and after seeing that there wasn't any one particular movement or position that made a difference - again, pretty inconsistent - he had me do some body weight squats. He showed me the form he wanted me to use and could see after just one try that I was having a hard time. So on the second attempt he stands behind me and brings his leg forward to brace my back as I squat and he instructs me to push my hips back even further. I could only go down so far before losing all strength and feeling that twinge in my knee. In order to compensate for that I leaned forward to maintain my balance, not just in the squat position, but in order to stand back up, which I did.

I realized that being overweight and carrying most of that weight in my belly has pushed my center of gravity forward, such that when I went down to a certain height, I needed to lean forward in order to maintain balance. With him telling me to move my hips backward, it completely threw off my center of gravity and I didn't have the strength to hold myself in that position without feeling like I was falling backwards.

On my third attempt, this time with him insisting that I push my hips back, and even though I felt his leg bracing me, I couldn't do it. I fell. It was only about 4-5 inches, and the physical fall didn't hurt, but what hurt was the emotional toll that short action had on me. Craig (my trainer) walked around and held out his hand to help me stand up and said, "come on, one more time." I took his hand and let him help me up. I was feeling very weak, embarrassed and ashamed of myself. He walked around behind me one more time and told me to try again. I didn't want to do it, but I did. He tells me, "Bring your hips back. I'm here, I've got you." I tried again and really focused on bringing my hips backward into the sitting position. Same result. I could only go so far before my legs completely gave out. I fell again.

"It's okay," I hear Craig's voice behind me as we walks around to face me. He holds out his hand again to help me stand up, but this time I hesitate. I didn't want to take his hand at first; I was too angry - mad at myself. I didn't even want to look at him. I was so ashamed of myself. I was mad at being so fat that I couldn't even hold myself up. I was mad at being so weak that I couldn't even complete the simplest exercise. Then I got mad at myself for everything that had happened to me in my past that led me to this humiliating moment - most especially my own bone-headed decisions. You know, the little ones that you don't think will have any consequences? "Just one little bite won't hurt (which then turns into an entire pie/cake/pizza/etc.); I had a rough week, I can have some ice cream; I'm too tired to exercise, I just really need to rest/relax;" etc.

"Come on," he beckons again. I take his hand and stand up, then bend over forward - out of breath and defeated. As he walks away, while I "recover," he says, "we can stop there for today, but lets do some foam rolling." In that moment, I'm just trying to keep my shit together. I'm flooded with emotions and feeling like a massive failure. As I get my breath back I walk to where he is with the foam roller and he goes through what he wants me to do. I've done some foam rolling before and even though I don't tell him that, I'm glad to be doing something I kind of know how to do. But my mind isn't really on it and when I finish he tells me to just relax and breathe.

But he can see on my face that I'm not okay. "Are you still thinking about what happened back there?" he asks me. "Yes," I said with my head hanging down, "I'm pretty upset about it actually." I proceed to tell him how I'm feeling about myself and that prompted a pretty frank discussion about what I can learn from this experience. I wish I had a tape recorder with me to remember all of the details, but some of the major points he made were these:

I didn't fail today.
He pointed out all of things I WAS able to do - like learn a brand new exercise while keeping great form; being better conditioned in that I could actually talk to him between sets of prowler pushes; even one of the other trainers in the gym let him know that he sees me there working out on my own; etc. He pointed out that struggling with one exercise, while showing improvement in others is still a win.

In that moment I was choosing to feel bad about myself.
(That's always a tough one to hear, but he was right.) I was choosing to focus on the one thing I "failed" at, while not acknowledging all the other things I had done well. I was the one bringing up all my past mistakes and failures and causing myself to drown in regret. Additionally, he pointed out a danger in that, when I do that, I am also projecting my fears into the future, ensuring that I won't change when my focus is only on what I've done (and by extension, will continue to do) wrong. He instructed me to do some meditations to project into my future what my vision for myself is, but then to "come back" to the present and look at what choices I can make today to help lead to that future vision. In essence - have a vision of who I want to be, but focus on today (what I can control), not on the future (what I can't control).

Life is not black and white.
Coming from a highly religious background, I tend to paint most things as black and white - either you're good or you're bad and there is no in-between. But the truth is, there is gray. Humans aren't perfect, there is some good and bad in all of us - all of us make mistakes. Sometimes we make "bad" choices; sometimes we exhibit "bad" behavior. If life were only black and white, there would be no hope for us; but life has shades of gray - that is the training ground that allows us to learn how to make better choices. You can fail at something and not BE a failure - which is a totally foreign concept to a shame-based way of thinking. There is no gray for shame-based people, but that is not how life was designed.

If you have beliefs that are hurting you, then they are garbage and need to be thrown away. YOU CAN CHOOSE NEW BELIEFS. It may sound surprising, but this one is very difficult for me to accept. Again, due to shame-based thinking, wherein labels ARE the thing itself. What I mean is, I come from a past and a way of thinking that says: "if you do something bad you ARE bad. If you make a mistake, you ARE a mistake. If you fail at something you ARE a failure. If you ARE fat then you don't fit in and you ARE unacceptable. You can't be yourself because who you ARE, at your core, is unacceptable." When these beliefs are adopted at a young age they feel permanent - as if set in stone and unalterable. In my case, I know that these beliefs were instilled by the time I was six. And when I say instilled, I mean that by this age these beliefs were so ingrained that they were automatic. I had fully accepted their reality - this is who I am. There has never, ever been a time in my life when I didn't know that I was a failure, or a mistake, from the beginning. This is my foundation. Even though it's wrong, it's the only foundation I've known, so the prospect of removing my foundation is terrifying.

But what is the result? I have built a house on my crooked foundation that has resulted in unnecessary pain, an "ugly" house that is fat and un-athletic and lives in misery and sadness. The windows only see and reflect pain, sadness, and loneliness. A house of misery. What I am going through in attempting to improve my fitness is the equivalent of trying to tear down and rebuild my house, but in the process realizing that my house was poorly constructed because the foundation was misshapen and uneven to begin with. Which means, basically, that I need to gut the foundation and start over. I need to throw away the beliefs that are hurting me and choose new ones. Insightful imagery aside, this is much harder to do than it sounds. Hmm... harder to do, but not impossible...

This is why learning hurts. It reaches to the core of who I am. It forces me to examine the beliefs, experiences and circumstances that have been a part of me, seemingly from the beginning - and many of them, as I begin to shine a light on them, are dark, disgusting and terrifying (okay, not ALL of them, there are some good things in there too!). When I see the "bad" things I regret them or feel ashamed of them and the cycle continues. But the cycle CAN be broken. Actually thy cycle MUST be broken in order to progress.

The irony is not lost on me - the only way to progress is to fail. I need failures - I need to experience failing AND STILL BEING OKAY. I need to learn that I can fall on my ass a few times and "fail" at something, i.e., discover a limitation, AND STILL BE OKAY. In order to change my beliefs it will take deciding to believe different and then experiencing believing different and that isn't going to happen overnight, because experience takes time. And that's how it's supposed to be.

So how would you finish the phrase: "When learning hurts..."?

Here's how I think I would finish it: When learning hurts, be grateful. It means that what you're learning is significant and it's helping you become what you were meant to be.

All that I have to be thankful for!

With all of the emotional turmoil I’ve been through the last few weeks, I made sure I took some time today (Happy Thanksgiving!) to do my best to put all of that aside and reflect on all that I have to be thankful for. Here’s my list:

I am thankful to be alive

I was born with inadequate oxygen and almost died at birth. My mom says I was black and blue and they had to rush me to an incubator to get me breathing. My entry into this world was traumatic and, looking back, it seems like the fear that accompanied my birth has remained with me throughout my life. Yes, I’ve been through some difficult experiences, but I made it. I survived that difficult beginning. And I’ve survived many other traumatic experiences since. I’m still here and I’m truly thankful for a loving Heavenly Father who has helped me through all of it.

I am thankful for my body

This is a tough one for me. I have very mixed feelings about my body. “Body Dissociation” is a very common symptom of people who have been sexually victimized. In essence, because my body was violated, my body became an object to be despised; something that was violated, abused and untrustworthy – a place where I was no longer safe. So I disconnected. I saw my body as something that was detestable and worthless. Consequently, I didn’t treat my body well because I didn’t see it as anything worthy of caring for. I didn’t listen to my body. I inflicted self punishments in negative self-talk, addictions of various kinds, and in general treated myself with contempt. I was trying to punish my body for being weak, for being violated. It may not make logical sense, but a six year old doesn’t have sufficient logic skills to process that kind of trauma.

Fast forward to today. I have come to realize that I can’t be healthy in an unhealthy body. I have come to realize that the shame I feel over what happened to me should really be the shame of the people who perpetrated the crime, not me. I am in the process of regaining the innocence of my inner child, who was wounded and never left that state of being. Basically, I’m learning not to be ashamed of what happened to me, because it wasn’t my fault. That also means reconnecting with my body. It means learning to listen to it and learning to treat it with respect through exercise and proper nutrition. Yes, I am in terrible shape, but that is the result of years of (self) neglect and abuse. It will take me time to challenge my old beliefs and thought patterns. It will take time to get into the shape I want to be in, but I am SO thankful that I have this opportunity to change. I am so grateful to have a body that is capable of change and improvement. I am so fortunate to have a body that can move, taste, touch, see, smell, hear and feel.

I’m thankful for my family

I seem to have a really good ability to criticize my family and point out their flaws – clearly a defensive, or “victim” mentality. But that’s not an accurate picture of who they really are. I don’t think I could adequately sum up how incredible each of them are – or what they mean to me in one post. The truth is, they have been far more patient with me and understanding than I deserve. I’ve done my share of hurtful things, for which I sincerely beg their forgiveness. Briefly, I would like to share just a few things that I love about each of them:

Mishka – the Compassionate

Mishka has a very caring heart and protective of the underdog. She cares about how others are feeling and desires to lift the burdens of others (at least until M&M’s get involved!! You know what I’m talking about Mish!! J). Too many times to count she’s offered support and encouragement and helped me feel like I’m not so alone.

Rebecca – the Noble

Rebecca has been a great supporter of mine, even when I haven’t really deserved it. She’s been a great example of perseverance and dedication – of meeting challenges head on and overcoming them with patience. She carries herself with pride and I love her resilience. I wish I were more like her in that respect. She is a great sounding board and I know her advice is always sound, well thought out and has my best interest at heart.

Mom (Tina) – the Generous

Mom is, without a doubt, one of the most generous – if not, THE most generous person I know. She is always willing to sacrifice for the benefit of others, sometimes at great cost to herself. She has a great attitude towards giving – always giving thanks to Heavenly Father for all that he has blessed her with. She is a great example of selfless giving and I know her riches in heaven will be abundant!

Dad (Bob) – the Benevolent

I really don’t know a kinder man than my dad. I can’t stress how grateful I am for his patience with me. I am eternally grateful that he did not anger easily. Even when he was angry (which was RARE!) he never raised his voice and he never acted violently. He was a peacemaker in our home and I love him for that. In my mid-twenties I had some very significant problems, for which I received some intensive treatment. He supported me through what was truly hell for me in ways I can’t begin express and any attempt I made to honor him would be woefully inadequate. He is one of my heroes.

I am thankful for adversity

This may sound ironic, after my last post. But adversity and the lessons I have learned have blessed my life immeasurably. I have developed and strengthened my testimony in ways that I would not have accomplished otherwise. I recall one time I was seeing a counselor and I had expressed dissatisfaction with the presence of a challenge in my life. She shared her opinion on the matter (she was very supportive and had only the intent of comforting me) and suggested, in loving kindness, that I accept it – even though it was contrary to my religious beliefs. In that moment I realized that the challenge had a purpose. I was able to bear my testimony to her about why I felt as I did and I know she was deeply touched by what I said. I know, historically, I have expressed hatred of my trials and how I would rather not have them. But I’ve learned something – these trials are how I will come to know the Savior. I am deeply grateful for that. Which leads me to my last item.

I am thankful for my Heavenly Father and Savior

Heavenly Father has always been the father I needed, not always the father I wanted. With my limited perspective of life, with all my lack of wisdom and lack of experience, and with my severely limited understanding – I don’t always ask for the right things and I don’t always know what’s in my best interest – but he always does. He answers “Yes” when I need to hear “Yes;” “No,” when I need to hear “No;” and He is silent when it’s in my best interest. I often confuse silence with absence and I have since learned that is not the case. Just because He is silent, doesn’t mean He isn’t there, or interested in me. I know now that He wants me to be happy, but how we obtain happiness is still a lesson I am learning. So often I think of obtaining happiness as being given what I need – when I need it – and that is SO NOT the case!! Happiness comes from strength and strength comes from being tested by adversity. There is no strength in a lack of opposition. It’s precisely the opposition that develops strength, which generates happiness.

I’ll be honest - the Savior is not someone I know well. I haven’t been as committed to Him as I could be. I haven’t made Him a priority in my life, as I could have. The reason’s are as varied as my past experiences and rooted in faulty core beliefs, feeling neglected, defensive, prideful, etc. I haven’t truly appreciated the atonement for one main reason – I never believed I was worthy of it. I was angry that he suffered and died for all men’s sins when I felt like I didn’t deserve to benefit from that gift. In essence, I had a testimony that the Savior was able to save all mankind, except me. Or, in other words, I had a testimony that He is THE Savior, just not MY Savior. That is changing, but I have a long way to go. In the meantime, I am thankful that He is so patient with me. I am humbled to know that He loves me, especially in those times when I push Him away because I don’t think I deserve His love.

So that's my (short!) list. I have so much to be thankful for! I am so glad that I took the time to look back over all my gifts and to see that, even the hard things, are helping me to become better and ultimately, helping me to be closer to my Savior and Father in Heaven and I am eternally grateful for that!

Setbacks

I had a big setback last weekend. I'm still trying to analyze what happened.

I went out of town to a convention and I was nervous regarding how I would eat. My trainer gave me permission to not exercise, since I would be doing a lot more walking around the city and convention center. But what really worried me was eating.

I've been eating a ketogenic diet for the last 4-5 weeks. I'm not sure how long it took me to "adapt," but the little ketone testing strips I use indicated that I was in ketosis for roughly 3-4 of those weeks. I didn't want to lose ground as the scale (used infrequently!) was indicating weight loss. My clothes felt about the same and the mirror certainly wasn't reflecting weight loss, but I had faith that I was doing the right things - and I trust my trainer.

But I'm not good with trusting myself. I am definitely a "when in Rome" kind of guy and being on vacation is a chance to let my hair down (figuratively, since I'm bald). Knowing all of this, I decided to plan ahead. I prepped a bunch of food that I could eat and carry some of it around (yes, I was carrying around bacon in my backpack for 3 days!). I knew that I would be going out to eat with friends, so I decided that I needed to look for the best options - salads, meats, etc., and just stick to those. I decided to look at eating out, but choosing healthy options, as my treat - instead of my usual idea of a treat - eat as much of whatever I want while eating out!

And it seemed to work! I was feeling pretty good about everything - feeling good about my preparation, about my execution, about my restraint in restaurants, etc. Looking back, I was probably feeling too good.

I need to interject something here. For most of my life, I haven't felt very good about myself. When I "mess up" or make a mistake, it usually stems from a place of feeling bad about myself, or feeling sorry for myself. The idea is based on shame - I do bad things, because I am a bad thing. But there are times, when I fall victim to a pretty classic "temptational justification," i.e., "just one won't hurt..." And this usually happens when I'm on an upswing. It's usually when things are going great. I'm thinking to myself, "hey, I'm doing pretty great right now. I can handle indulging in just a little bit of (fill in the blank). It's not going to effect me too terribly, I mean, how can it, when I'm doing so well...?"

So when I had a largely successful trip, I was feeling really good about it and I got lulled into a false sense of security. (Those of us who are shame-based/traumatized - ok, maybe just me - aren't great at differentiating pride from confidence. In other words, I won't allow myself to feel good about myself, because that is prideful and pride deserves to be punished...) Well, I decided that since I'd had great success, that I was going to allow myself one treat on my last day. I knew it would kick me out of ketosis for a day or two, but hey, I was doing so well that I was certain I could regain ketosis in a day or two as well, right?

So I sought out the perfect treat and I found it in a little gelato shop. I told myself that I would not be neurotic about it. While I knew it wasn't the right thing to do, I decided that I was just going to enjoy it and then let it go. And boy howdy, did I enjoy it!! I was walking down the street on cloud nine. I ate slowly and savored every bite. It was nearly a transformative experience. I was going to go home the next day feeling like a winner! ...or so I thought.

While I was driving home I kept mentally replaying difficult scenes from my life. I didn't even realize what was happening at first. It was probably two to three hours into my drive when I realized that I didn't "feel right," but couldn't identify why. So I did my best to do some self-talk and tell myself that I was okay and that I was safe and that everything was going to be ok. It should have worked, but it didn't. It seemed that my self-pity and defenses were up pretty high and didn't want to be pulled back down.

One interesting thing that happened was when I stopped in Grand Junction to gas up. I had the last of my prepped food to eat, but I really wanted a hamburger, fries and a shake. I decided to go to Wendy's, but on the way, I realized that I was not making a nutritional decision. I knew that I was making an emotional decision. I knew that my body didn't really want fast food, but my emotions did. In a completely uncharacteristic move, and what I can only attribute to divine intervention, I turned my car around and just continued driving. I ate the last of my healthy food and for a little while, I felt pretty good about making that decision.

But my emotions had not been appeased and it wasn't long before my previous feelings of being unsettled, or not feeling right, intensified and my thoughts turned to self-shaming thoughts. I berated myself for anything and everything. I beat myself up for being me, i.e., weak, pathetic, a loser, fat, ugly, etc.

After eight hours of driving, I made it home just in time for dinner. At this point, I think I had given up. I didn't have the energy to do anything good for myself or the will power to restrain myself. Even though I made it a point to eat healthy food first (e.g., meat, salad, etc.) I then proceeded to go down pretty hard on some pasta salad, baked carrots/potatoes, bread, chips and salsa, pie and ice cream, etc. It felt so good to give up. It felt right to give up on myself. I had blissfully checked out and it seemed that all my bad feelings had finally gone away - as if filling my belly had filled my emotional needs.

You can jam a round peg into a square hole and pretend that "it fits," but it doesn't fit...

I went to bed that night feeling physically satisfied, but emotionally burned out. I'll just summarize the rest of my week: depression, sleeping late, pulling a muscle in my neck that was painful, avoiding people, self-hatred and negative thoughts and round after round of promising to eat healthy and then binging on whatever I could find...

So, it's not been a great week for me. Actually it's been a pretty shitty week. Which is so strange because I was so worried about the time I would be travelling, when it turns out that all of that time actually went pretty great. It was the time immediately following that somehow triggered a shame spiral. I think I have something inside me that won't let me be happy for myself. It's as if I sunk into a shame spiral BECAUSE I had such a good weekend! As if there is some internal sensor that says, "hey, you had a great week, and you were really successful, but you aren't allowed to be successful - or too happy, so we need to re-balance that out with some self-pity..." It's as if I was punishing myself for being happy about having a successful weekend. No, it doesn't make logical sense, but that is because that is shame-logic at work and proof that I have more work to do.

Maybe the worst part is that I know why. I know exactly why I feel this way. I know exactly how this faulty-shame logic started. I have been through some really traumatic experiences in that I was sexually traumatized by two different neighbors in two different neighborhoods about three years apart. But you know what's crazy? As damaging as that was (and it WAS damaging), I suffered a greater trauma by not having my dad's attention. I was neglected by a man who was supposed to love me more than anyone. I was rejected by a man who was always in the next room, but didn't have time for me. Whatever he was involved in was always more important than me.

That is how I learned that I was worthless. That's the only explanation possible for why he didn't spend time with me. I was so bad, so ugly, so fat, so stupid, so broken, so disgusting, that my own father didn't want anything to do with me. I don't deserve to have anything good in my life because I'm not worth it. The adult in me acknowledges how wrong those statements are, but I wasn't an adult when I was neglected. I was a child and I wasn't capable of understanding why my own father wouldn't pay attention to me. The only "logical" explanation was that I wasn't worth it. That child still lives within me. That child is still hurting from not having his dad's attention. And the soul of that child is starving - starving for attention, starving for affection, starving for his father to hold him and tell him that he's important to him and that he's worth his time and attention. Starving to be told that he's okay and that everything is going to be okay.

Is it ironic or completely apparent now why I use those phrases to comfort myself when I'm not feeling right. "You're okay. Everything's going to be okay." The problem is, because it's coming from me, I don't believe it. I feel stuck because these are things I need my dad to say to me, but he's not here to do that. So how do I get that need met when he's not here to meet it?

How am I ever going to move forward with my life, when these missing pieces keep holding me back. It's like my life has been one continuous round of me trying to move forward, but then having a major "setback." But is it really a setback, or me just trying to move beyond my painful past and getting yanked back by a tether that won't seem to break?

Approval

I just got off the phone with a gal who recently graduated in Speech-Language Pathology (SLP) and was looking for some advice on CF and job hunting. I related to her my experience moving to Washington to take a job and how it was a really difficult experience for me. I had been promised a certain level of mentorship and guidance, which, ultimately, didn't happen. That was a very difficult time in my life. It made me doubt everything I was doing and whether or not I wanted to keep working in Speech-Language Pathology at all.

Our conversation caused me to reflect on what I learned from that very difficult experience. It also occurred to me that what I learned is very applicable to what I'm going through right now.

To give you some background I need to explain something - I need approval. Specifically, I need my dad's approval. I have an emptiness in my soul that I believe can only be filled by my father holding me and saying that I'm ok - which is obviously not going to happen now that I my dad has passed away. I know that I go through life looking for anything to fill that emptiness, i.e., addictions. Even my shame and self-pity is really a cry for help to fill that void. I want someone to look through my sadness and see that what I really need is reassurance. But self-pity has the opposite effect. Far from making people want to comfort me, it makes them want to run from me. Self-pity, like pride, is off-putting.

It may be less profound, but this need also translates into the need for approval from others. The need to be recognized, praised, etc. The need to be seen as smart, accomplished, wise, witty, competent, etc. It was precisely this need that made my life hell while starting my new job after graduation.

I found myself in a situation where I was not going to receive feedback - I was on my own. I would have to work without being noticed by my superiors. How was I going to be praised if they weren't around to see my work? I didn't realize that all through graduate school I held on to my supervisors praise/feedback like a lifeline. It was everything to me when they praised me and equally devastating when they didn't. But I depended on their feedback in order for me to feel validated. And now, that was gone. I was going to have to learn to work independently and trust my judgment regarding patient care. I mean, this is another human being we're talking about - being dependent on me to help "heal" them?! That's a lot of pressure!!

I only worked in that job for nine months - long enough to get my SLP national certification and then I left. But something happened in that nine months that I didn't expect. I learned to trust myself. I learned that I could BE a Speech-Language Pathologist. I learned that I could be a GOOD Speech-Language Pathologist. I learned that I was good at my job - even without someone else's approval!

How did that happen?!?

There isn't one moment that I can pin it on. It wasn't like someone flipped a switch and I just woke up one day confident in my abilities. It happened over time, little by little, step by step, line upon line... you see where I'm going with this? It happened by doing the job. It happened by learning from every experience - making good decisions and making bad decisions. It happened from all the moments of uncertainty, of being put on the spot to make a decision, of having to make a snap judgment with no guarantee that I was making the right decision. As I gained experience, the see-saw of uncertainty gradually gave way to certainty. The more I saw and experienced, the more information I had to compare each time I had to make a decision and the better I got at knowing what to do the next time. 

I tried. I failed. I succeeded. I learned.

So, how does that help me now? It helps me see that I can be ok without the approval of others. That, given enough time and experience, I don't "need" the approval of others. That realization doesn't just make that desire for recognition go away, but it helps me see that I don't need to limit myself simply because I don't have someone else telling me how awesome I am! To some extent, I'm always going to want my father's approval. There may always be a bit of a hole there, where that need went unmet. But I don't have to stop living until that hole gets filled  - and if I'm honest with myself, that's kind of what I've been doing.

I guess it's time to move on...

Going it alone

I went to the Lantern Fest by myself. I learned a lot about myself from doing that.



When I first learned about the Lantern Fest, I immediately had a desire to go - it was something I've seen other people do and I wanted to be a part of it. So I was really excited as I went to the website to purchase a ticket. I think my heart was even beating a little bit faster, so I was clearly anticipating the experience. But then something hit me - and it's not the first time I've felt this feeling. It's a mixture of sadness and regret. It hit me about the time I had to specify a ticket quantity - one.



I was super excited to be a part of something special and it hit me that I would be doing it alone. I didn't have anyone to share this with. I hesitated. I thought, "maybe next year, when I have someone to go with." I just about closed down the page, when I reflected on what was really going on. I was letting my feelings of loneliness decide my actions. I was keeping myself from experiencing something I really wanted because it wasn't going to be exactly the way I wanted it to be.



Did I want to go to Lantern Fest? You bet. Did I want to go with someone special? You bet. But did I HAVE to go with someone special...? No, not really. I think I tend to put conditions on lots of things and when all the conditions don't line up exactly as I want them to, I reject the entire experience. I limit myself and keep myself from experiencing anything remotely fun or exciting, simply because it's not how I'm "supposed" to experience it.



I didn't realize that I had been doing this because while I lived in Washington, I traveled by myself all the time. As much as I realized that I wanted to have someone special to share in my travels and experiences, I knew my time there was temporary - so I traveled. I saw some pretty great places and had some wonderful experiences that I will treasure forever. And I would have missed out on all of it if I had said, "maybe someday, when I have someone to share it with."



So I bought a ticket for one. And I decided that, yes, it probably would be more fun with someone to go with, but that didn't mean I couldn't have fun on my own. It's only now, as I type this, that I realize that this experience wasn't about being lonely; it wasn't about being single. It was about being okay with myself the way I am.



This is not something I'm good at! (Not a surprise for anyone who's read my blog!) My decision to go to Lantern Fest was really about me saying, "I'm okay. Whether I'm single, dating, or married, I'm okay. I'm worth having fun experiences and enjoying life." It seems like this is something that should just be instilled in every person, but for me, it's not. It's taken quite a bit of work for me to get to this place, but I'm glad that I'm changing!



And guess what happened? I went to Lantern Fest and I had a great time!! I walked around for a bit and picked a random tiki torch to set my things down around. I ended up sitting next to this fun couple.

They were kind enough to reach out to me and made an effort to include me. It may be ironic, but I think they felt sorry for me because I was there alone! As we chatted and I got to know them, I realized how awesome they are and it occurred to me that if I had been there with someone else, I don't think I would have met them. I would have really missed out on meeting some awesome people.  I don't know if I'll ever see them again, but they helped me forget that I was there "alone." So thank you, "B" and "S" for making a fun night that much better!

It would be fun to run into them again someday, but not professionally (they're both officers at the correctional facility!).

As much as I do want to be married, I don't want to miss out on getting the most out of life, and I certainly don't want to continue to limit myself because conditions aren't exactly the way I want them to be. But mostly, I just want to prove to myself that I'm okay the way I am. Ultimately, isn't that what I want to bring into a marriage? The ability to offer my complete self as an equal partner, not an incomplete man who needs others to define him?

Yeah, I still have my share of challenges and obstacles, but for a single guy, I have a pretty great life - even if I have to "go it alone" sometimes!

*Authors note: Sorry about the weird formatting, I'm writing this on someone else's computer until my new computer arrives!!

Filling needs

My whole life I thought my needs could only be filled by my parents. But what if I have a room in my soul where all of my needs can be met? But I never use it because I think it can’t come from me; I think it has to come from my parents. I never think to look inside because I don’t believe I have it within me to fill those needs because I don’t believe in myself… that’s a vicious cycle.

It makes sense that if you think you’re worthless you’re not going to look inside to find a way to meet your needs – you don’t think you’re capable. What if you just decide to tell yourself that you are? It means disconnection from parents and that disconnection feels like death. What if you just tell yourself that it’s time to die? Maybe it’s time for the “worthless” you to die, so that the worthful you can finally live?

At The End Of The Storm

I want you to imagine something with me.

Pretend that you are in the middle of a terrible storm. You are walking down an unfamiliar road and you’re only thought is to return home. You are cold and shivering, with only a light hooded jacket to protect you. The wind and rain are beating down on you so hard that you draw the hood around your head and you hunch over trying to minimize the force of the wind and rain battering you relentlessly. The only things keeping you warm are walking and your thin, hooded jacket. All you can see ahead of you is a few feet of rain-soaked pavement, and your drenched shoes, as you put one foot in front of the other.

Imagine this continues for days, weeks, months, years. This darkness, this coldness, this discomfort – and even pain – are all you know; they are all you’ve ever known.

Then one day you stop. You just stop walking. You see that there is no water on the pavement. You feel that there is no wind or rain pelting your hunched form. Your shoes are dry, but your feet are weary and throbbing from constant movement with no rest. You try to stand up straight, but your back screams in protest from being hunched over for so long. Nevertheless, you remove the hood and look around you. You don’t really recognize what’s around you because all you’ve seen for so long is dull, gray pavement.

The storm is gone. The sky is blue with puffy, white clouds. The grass is green. The valley you’re in gently sweeps up to rolling hills, which become tall, jagged mountains. You see rivers and waterfalls; wildflowers, trees and forests. You hear birds singing nearby and the unfamiliar warmth of a zenith sun. It’s beautiful and breathtaking and completely foreign. This is not the world you know. You feel more lost now than you did before.

You want the clouds to gather and darken. You long for the wind to pick up and the rain to fall. You don’t want to see vistas and panoramas; you want your vision filled with the few yards of pavement that you’ve grown accustomed to. You just want things to back to the way they were because that is what you know. That dark, cold, wet, furious world is what you know.

This new world is terrifying. It’s so open, so uncertain, so vast. There is no safety out there – there is only safety within the hood of your jacket. But you can’t help but wonder, “when did the storm end? How long have I been walking in this terrifying sunshine and not known it? How many miles have I traveled hunched over, alone and scared?” And even more terrifying, “what do I do now that the storm has ended?”

This is what life is like for me right now.

The storms of my childhood were criticism, bullying, neglect and sexual abuse. The hooded jacket I wore was inferiority, self-pity, self-doubt and fear, because I learned to use these beliefs to protect me from the storms. This is all I’ve known. As I have aged and received much counseling, I’ve come to realize that the storms of my childhood are over. They no longer rage, though I have no idea when they stopped, because I never stopped feeling the storm!

Yet, I look around me and I see that the world has changed. My circumstances have changed. I no longer need to walk through life as if in a storm, because the storm is over. But this is a new world that I don’t know anything about. I don’t know how to navigate a world where I’m allowed to have desires, wishes, hopes and dreams. I don’t know how to live in world where I don’t have to suffer anymore. And a part of me wants that suffering to come back. I want the storms to return, because it’s all I’ve known. I may be in pain and uncomfortable all the time, but it’s familiar, it’s what I know.

I see that I create negativity in my life. The storm around me did not end, it simply moved within. I needed the storm. I needed the suffering. I didn’t know there was any other way to be. What the storm taught me was that I wasn’t worth sunshine (being loved). I didn’t deserve wide open spaces (freedom to be myself). I thought that I was a mistake; that with me, God had messed up. That’s just the way things were! It was just an unchangeable, immutable fact. All mankind can be saved… except me, because I’m not worth saving.

Having your eyes “un-blinded” is terrifying. You would think that seeing a world where good, beautiful, hopeful things exist would be welcome, but it’s not. It’s terrifying in its unfamiliarity. The implications for regret over living a life in fear (i.e., not knowing when the storm ended) are soul-crushing because it forces you to ask: “how long have I lived this way… and DIDN’T NEED too?!?”

This is the crossroads I am at in my life. I am looking at the immense and open world around me, seeing the hope and freedom it offers, but longing for the familiar storms to return. I am asking myself, “what do I do now? How will I survive a world I know nothing about? How do I begin to believe that I have worth, when I have never known worth?”