Muscle Shame

There is a room at the gym that I am terrified of.  It is full of mirrors, questionable machines and very fit people.  I make myself go in there because it terrifies me.  I feel awkward and foolish the entire time, and most likely have a face the color of my Plexus drink.  But still I go.

My gawkiness reached its all time high when I attempted to do a pull up.  I consider myself to be strong.  I do push-ups/sit-ups/lunges etc... often.  But this was a new skill.  A new set of muscles.  And something which proved to be a challenge.  A kind soul was showing me how to do it the amateur way....by just jumping up and grabbing the bar.  She underestimated my ability grossly.  There was no world in which I would be able to pull myself up even a little bit.  I finally compensated with a machine that would hold my knees while I did my inverted pull ups.

I was thoroughly ashamed of my muscles.  Or lack thereof.

My sweet friends assured me that it would take me a while to reach my goal and tat one point they weren't able to achieve it either.

Instead of retreating to the mats where I could safely perform my other exercises, I pressed on.  To my surprise, I became determined to overcome.  Not ashamed of my lack of skill.  (Though my muscles were in a time out for their shameful behavior.)

It was as if looking like a fool motivated me to succeed.

This is a completely new and different arena for me.

Who am I and what have I done with Rebekah?

I have now reached a place in my life where challenging myself is more important than the need to look like I have it together.  I am OK with making a seeming fool of myself if the result is more strength.

I have even reached a point where I am not terrified of people looking at my GB aka Ghetto Booty at the gym.  I have searched for clothes to hide this physical trait, but to no avail.  It has always been an uncomfortable part of my body and I was rid of it only when I was grossly underweight.  So, I am even embracing that gawkiness.  We are good friends now.  Me and GB.

I wish sometimes that I could go back to the afraid, insecure Rebekah who avoided feeling foolish.  But my hunch is, my young self would not appreciate just how massive this growth is because being without it means you don't understand what it means to carry it.

So in all my glorious mess, I embrace gym clothes and the horrid pull up bar.  And very soon I will be able to say that I conquered the crap out of that, too.

Goodbye Therapy!

I am officially released from therapy.  I have sat across from this woman for 3.5 years and struggled.  She took me from a scared, traumatized momma who ran from her kids to a proud, strong momma who doesn't want to let her boys go.  After Graham's accident, I was an intense mess of a person.  I made poor decisions.  I didn't want to be alone with my kids.  I self-medicated and sought temporary relief in sketchy things.  I had nightmares.  I had flashbacks.  I jumped at the slightest noise.  I cried just as easily.  It was a hard time, but because I had a woman who specialized in trauma therapy cheering me on, I had hope.

The changes were subtle.  And mostly invisible to others.  I gained knowledge on how to calm my brain down when I was triggered.  I practiced relaxing in the middle of stressful situations.  I picked exercises that permitted me to strengthen my body without stressing my mind.  I journal almost daily, and the woman who wrote entries 3.5 years ago is a shadow of who I am now.

What is cool and supremely scary about life is that changes happen subtly.  They come with small decisions that you make throughout your day.  In five second intervals.  You decide to forgo the second cup of coffee and drink water instead.  You turn the TV off to read a book.  You pick music to work out to that is more intelligent and less chaotic.  You light a candle.  Put bubbles in your bath.  Take deep breaths when you're upset.  Wade through painful emotions without pouring a glass of wine.  Cook brussel sprouts instead of pizza.  You finish the laundry before your kids get home.  You actually pay attention in church and put your mental to-do list on hold.

1,277 days in 3.5 years.
1,277,000 small decisions.

I didn't get it right all the time.  But I got it right enough times to help me overcome my demons.

And yes, I go to bed fighting them and will wake up again tomorrow looking the same ones in the face.

But this time, I'll know what it is I'm staring at.

Awkward

I found myself floundering for words...I wasn't making sense... I was contradicting what I had just said.

This doesn't happen to me often.  By most standards, I'm a decent communicator.

But this conversation was painful.  And with someone I hadn't known for long.

The primary thought running through my mind was... He just doesn't know me.

The worst part of dating is taking your time to get to know someone.  After being hurt so many times, it takes an act of congress to get you to lower your guard enough to let someone in.  All sorts of walls are built in order to maintain sanity so you can parent well, provide well, function without seeming like too much of a mess.  After all, you have parent-teacher conferences to attend, dentist appointments to make, homework to help with, clothes to wash, new pants to buy because your kids insist on growing, activities to make, haircuts to give, birthday parties to attend, discipline to carry out, chunks of time to give up so you can volunteer at their schools.  All this while running a company, managing people, connecting with clients and prospects, planning marketing strategies, paying bills, balancing budgets, hiring and firing, working out so you don't get fat, remembering to take your car in so you don't ruin the engine, grocery shopping, returning items so you don't allow clutter to overtake your small living room, reading to keep your mind sharp, and writing so you can release all the craziness in your brain.

It's amazing I am erect.

Getting to know someone with all these balls in the air is lengthy and uncomfortable.  And very close to impossible when it's difficult enough to be erect.

And it leads to a multitude of fumbling conversations.

At what point do you stop investing in someone when you know you don't have all their cards on the table?  At what point do you reveal your cards?  Fear of wasting your time is looming there somewhere amidst the millions of balls.  Fear of being rejected when they really just don't know you.  Fear of rejecting them when you don't know them either.

Just writing this makes me want to go back to bed.

But I press on.  Having awkward and annoying conversations.  Listening calmly when I want to run away.  Being patient when this is not a trait I maintain easily.

I have two little boys counting on me to make good decisions.  They are worthy of me enduring awkward conversations.

What if I gave up?

I'm not there yet...where I want to be.  It's looming and is possible, but it's not yet here.

But that doesn't make me unsuccessful.

I read this post by a Jewel Ambassador in Plexus and it blew me away...she listed all the reasons she had to quit and why she didn't give up.  She is currently making about $240K a year with Plexus. Granted, I'm making 13% of that but I'm not done either....

And all her reasons were relatable cuz this homegirl has been there.

So WHAT IF ....
--I had listened to a well intentioned man who told me God hates divorce and stayed in a miserable marriage feeling small and afraid for the rest of my life?

--I had given up when my friend told me she couldn't be my friend anymore because I had too much drama?

--I had believed my husband when he told me it was my fault our son almost died?

--I had stopped growing when someone told me I had too many red flags and too much baggage?

--I believed it when I was told that I was crazy and incompetent?

--I shut down my business because an employee told me it was worthless?

--I stopped working out because the man I was dating told me my muscles were gross?

--I gave up because four of my employees quit and started their own cleaning business?

--I threw in the towel after two divorces and again dated a man who did not see my value?

--I was not desperate enough to try Plexus and never took the products in the first place?

--I allowed the lies that I had slept with everyone and was kicked out of two bars to identify me?

--I believed the man I was dating when he told me I was inappropriate and shared too much?

--I had given up on God when my friend told me I was a typical, judgmental Christian?

--I gave up because my sister and brother succeeded in marriage and surpassed me?

--I stopped posting about Plexus because it annoyed some people?

--I believed it when a client/friend told me my company was mis-managed?

If any of these things had happened, I would not be where I am today...Paying my own way...Able to pick my boys up and drop them off from school and sing loudly to Justin Bieber on our way home..Able to stay home with them when they are sick...Able to shed the many reasons I have to give up and still wake early and tackle the day. 

I am still changing, growing, hoping.  I still love.  I still laugh.  I still choose to be happy when there are plenty of reasons to cry.

I press on.  Knowing that regardless of the negativity, and possible truth behind the negativity, my life counts.  I have a job to do.

And I'm not there yet.  I can taste it.  Touch it.  Feel it.  But it's not yet in my hands.

I am a glorious mess, but the trying is pretty dang fun.

Messy Syllabus

I read a story once about a man who was happily married and very successful.  He had people flocking to him with adoration.  His wife wisely saw through the superficial sentiment and reminded him that they would be gone if he lost his wealth and fame.

That day came and he was alone.  His wife died.  His dynasty crumbled and left him with no one.

My said dynasty has crumbled on me a few times.  I had invested my time in people who weren't invested in me, thus leaving me with a handful of genuine friends.  These friends sat with me when my son was fighting for his life.  They helped me move out of the many homes I lived in.  They called when they knew I was having a hard time.  They showed up when I was at my worst and had nothing whatsoever to offer them.  And they loved me.  Ugly or not.  Broke or not.  Sane or not.  Single or not.  Lively or not.  They showed up.

I will never forget looking around the waiting room at the PICU and seeing the faces of the ones who showed up.  They didn't speak.  They didn't hug me constantly.  They just showed up and sat beside me.  And let me cry.  Or yell.  Or whatever it was that I was feeling in that particular moment.  They loved me when I couldn't love myself.

Now that I'm older and have a full life with two kids and two businesses and multiple other jobs, my time is extremely precious.  I have to be thoughtful about how I spend it and with whom.  Do they make me a better person?  Do they encourage me to follow what's right?  Do they assist me in conquering my fears and unreasonable expectations?  Are they themselves moving towards something greater?

Do they love me when I'm unloveable?

This is a tall order for anyone.  And unfortunately as Christians we feel it's our duty to be this to everyone.  I was so glad when my Sunday School class didn't show up to help me move.  It restored my faith just a bit in the genuineness of the people in church.  They didn't know me and if they had showed, it would have been out of legalistic duty and nothing more.  It wouldn't have been a true act of kindness.

I think this is perhaps the core of free will.  God gave us the ability to choose Him or not.  We get to choose whether we love Him and how we love Him.  We get to choose what that looks like for us. In turn, when we force ourselves to follow a script, the free will becomes simply a rote task that reeks of insincerity.  And never quite makes that treacherous trek to our hearts because it is surrounded by sterile checklists and agendas.

But when we do act freely simply because we love, the choir in heaven must break into song.

Sincerity and pain have joined together in a song that no one can develop into a syllabus.

And when your dynasty falls, perhaps you'll find just who is willing to get messy with you.

Not YET!

In a study, students were taught that every time they tried "something new and difficult that pushed them out of their comfort zone the neurons in their brain can form new, stronger connections and over time they can get smarter.

In that study, students who weren't taught this growth mindset continued to show declining grades.  Those who were taught the study showed a sharp rebound in their grades."

Carol Dwecker said this in her Ted Talk The Power of Not Yet.

If we change "I've failed" to "I haven't accomplished it YET" perhaps our brains would get to the NOT YET faster...or perhaps if we didn't and just accepted failure as the outcome, we would never achieve the NOT YET.

I was walking with my boys while they rode their bikes and watched Brady continuously struggle to get going.  He recently learned how to ride his bike, and the take-off in the beginning proves to be the most challenging part.  I had listened to this Ted Talk today, so I just told him that it was difficult right now, but he would get it.  He just hadn't mastered it YET.  In the past, he would give up and cry and we would end up cutting our walk short.  This time, he got on his bike and pushed through the difficulty with the cutest look of determination on his face.

I breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn't FAILED in the past with my parenting, I just hadn't achieved greatness YET.  But in that moment, I felt like I had arrived.  I gave myself a little pat on the back and ran next to my two boys who were beaming with confidence.

Being divorced twice screams FAILURE.  Very loudly.  It perpetuates in my brain like a record that continuously skips.  I have FAILED at having a steady relationship.   I have FAILED at finding my life partner.  I have FAILED my kids.  I have FAILED my parents.  I have FAILED myself.

But if I translate that into NOT YET this is what it looks like:

Being divorced twice means I haven't found the right one YET.
I haven't achieved a steady relationship YET.
I haven't found my life partner YET.
I haven't YET achieved awesome parenting.
I haven''t YET achieved making my parents proud.
I haven't YET arrived.

I may not fully accomplish these things, but the challenge that I can makes me want to put on a headband to catch the sweat that will fall from my determined face.  And if I don't arrive, I'll die trying.

With my brain at full speed.

About Time

My son saw the book I was reading... "How to Avoid Falling in Love with a Jerk"....

Perhaps this is why people have switched to tablets/iPads to read.

He looked curiously at me and again asked if Daddy was a jerk.  This was the second time we have had this conversation.  He saw the book months ago and asked the same thing.  My response was the same...his dad and I were both jerks in our marriage because we just didn't know how to get along.  And it was better for everyone if we weren't together anymore.  But I assured him that just because something is true doesn't mean it's easy.

I have had to learn the hard way most of my lessons.  I am very stubborn and strong willed.  I like to talk things to death, simply out of curiosity.  I always make the decision that I want to make regardless of the feedback I get.

Sometimes these words not heeded led to pain.

But with my intense pain also came my intense joy.

(Not that I shouldn't have listened to wise advice....but you know. whatever.)

It's impossible to have one without the other.  The yin and the yang.  Good and Evil.  Dark and Light.  One cannot exist without the other.  I had the happiest moments of my life when I was married.  The pain didn't remove those.  Nor did they lessen them.

One of my favorite movies "About Time" captures this concept.  The lead character is given the gift of being able to go back in time to any point in his life and redo.  Of course he does it often in the beginning for silly reasons...to avoid looking like an idiot, to kiss the girl he ignored, to stop an argument, to pass a test he failed.  But what ends up happening is he misses out on LIFE.

We were created to taste, touch, hear, see, smell. (I may or may not have had to look up what the five senses were just then).  We wouldn't know what smells pleasant if we didn't smell something gross.

The character then goes back just to slow down and LIVE each day fully.  He listened to someone's pain instead of spewing advice.  He paid attention to the girl who served him coffee and received a smile.  He saw the beauty of a building he had run through in a hurry previously.

Living fully requires acceptance that we will sometimes be late.  We will often look like fools.  I mean, often.  We will stand out when we want to fit in.  We will have to be social when we want to be introverted.

If living fully means I get to fully experience life, then bring on the clown suit.  I'd rather look like a fool than miss out.

happy boys

I met with the boys' teachers and was thrilled to hear that they are doing well at school.  Graham is behind academically and will most likely have to repeat PK4 but he is loved by everyone.  Brady is a super bright kid who is also loved and is respectful to his teachers and peers.  Both teachers said they were very happy kids and I should be proud.

This was music to my ears.  Relief dripped through me and my shoulders relaxed a little.  I was expecting to hear the opposite.

Dragging them through a divorce can be summed up in one word...PAINFUL.  They miss their dad when they are with me.  They miss me when they are with their dad.  They have two rooms.  Two sets of clothes.  Two sets of parents.  They have people in their life that I won't ever meet or know.  They don't deserve the pain.  They are worth more than this.

I worry about their hearts.  I worry about their relationships with other people.  I worry.  Constantly.

As with Graham's accident, I will be prone to blame everything negative in their lives on the divorce.

E.G...

Graham is behind because his brain is damaged from the accident.  

Brady is addicted to his iPad because he is avoiding his harsh reality of a broken home.

Graham has speech issues because of the accident.

Brady sucks his thumb because he feels unsafe since the divorce.

Graham has temper tantrums because his parents aren't together.

And the list goes on.  But the truth is, I don't know.  No one does.  And this is terrifying.

In church yesterday, we were singing a song that escapes me right now but my prevalent thought throughout was that I had to cling to Jesus if I wanted to keep my sanity and raise my boys.  I have to trust Him.  I have to believe that whatever happens, He has them in the palm of His hand.

And He is a far better parent than I will ever be.

red face and sweaty palms

I could feel my face getting hot.  The warmth spread up behind my eyes and tears were threatening to fall.  My therapist had hit a nerve and knew it.  Per usual, she asks me to process what I feeling.  Per usual, the feeling under what she had said was that I felt rejected.

Rejection doesn't sit well with me.  It causes my insides to twist and my color to change.  It makes talking difficult sometimes.  It changes the pace my heart is beating and turns my hands clammy.  It is not at all my friend.  Not even a little bit.

Unfortunately, rejection is something that will never stop occurring.  Especially as a business owner.  Especially as a single person.  It will continue to come.  It will continue to cause a color change.  It will continue to threaten tears.  It is one of the few guarantees in life.

Struggling to speak, I dive into the why behind my tears.  I came into therapy happy and light and left heavy.   I have to face it in order to grow.  It's why I go.  Otherwise, my face would be continually hot.

Rejection has a purpose.  It has given me thicker skin.  It has helped me to weed out the important from the unimportant.  It has forced me to nurture my own soul.  It has catapulted me, sometimes screaming, out of bad situations.  I'm healthier because I have been rejected. 

Despite the benefits, I'm not really a fan of having a red face.

The difficulty is remaining yourself despite rejection's frequent visits.  And as a person who likes others to be happy, I find this an arduous task.  It is tempting to to change my game in order to avoid rejection.  I have done it frequently in my past.  I have abandoned my tasks as a mother in order for a relationship to survive.  I have let my friends dictate decisions that should have been mine alone.  I have made poor decisions in business in order to avoid it.  Rejection looms in the background, ready to pounce.  Taunting me with its red face and broken voice.  I change who I am in order to keep it at bay.  But this has not served me well.  Instead of having the desired effect, it results in even more tears and red faces.  If I would just persist in being true to myself, I would not find my life so challenging.  Or rejection so ominous.