Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

identity

Traveling solo

It is a weekday, and I’m sitting on the porch, just after noon. A gentle breeze accompanies this warm summer day, and I am basking in it.

Inside, my house is empty, husband off to work, kids 800 miles away in Illinois with their grandparents. I am supposed to bask in this time alone, aren’t I? I am an introvert, after all. But I am surprised to find that I do not love it, all this quiet, all this “me time.”

An open week stretches ahead of me, and I am a little bit frightened by it all. No appointments. No people who need something from me. No one expecting anything from me.

What is this madness?

—

I drove 470 miles total this weekend, all but a few of the miles by myself. I went to a writing retreat in Virginia, the best of its kind in my opinion, and probably one of only a few things that could compel to make such a drive by myself.

God’s Whisper Farm, Radiant, VA

The morning I was to leave, I sat in the parking lot of my bank, hands shaking, heart rate increasing, as I thought about the roads that lay ahead of me. Most of my travels in the last 12 years have been with at least my husband by my side, usually our kids along, too. This brings with it a different kind of anxiety, but me being responsible for myself and the car and the trip overall was almost too much to bear.

Halfway through the trip, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. Gusty winds swept across Pennsylvania and Maryland forcing me to grip tight the steering wheel and mouth words of prayer that my car, back from the body shop for less than a week, would keep its hold on the road. I am a nervous passenger when anyone else is driving but more nervous when I am the driver, apparently. The driving directions were simple, so I tried not to use the GPS but did not take the bypass around Leesburg and ended up in the middle of town when all I wanted to do was stop at Chipotle for lunch. A small delay but a timely reminder that companions make good navigators. (I am usually the navigator, and I’m not always good at it. I lose focus staring out the window, and I rely too heavily on the computerized GPS to tell me what to do and when.)

I made it to my destination without incident and met one of my two roommates before I unloaded my things and we got back in the car to head to the farm where the retreat was being held. I consulted the GPS and saw a back road that looked interesting. I’d been on the highways long enough for one day, so I suggested we take it. My roommate was agreeable, and I let the  GPS guide us, but I missed a turn and we found ourselves on a gravel road that led straight into someone’s private driveway. I had a moment of panic about rural Virginia, but I was less afraid because there was someone else with me in the car. We righted our course and found the correct back road, which led us across a one-lane wooden bridge that people were sitting on, legs dangling above a creek where others were swimming. The Pennsylvania license plates must have been a sight.

We had taken a more interesting route to the farm, certainly not the most direct or logical, and I joked all evening about our small adventure. We would take the highway the next time.

—

When it comes to writing, I have been journeying solo for more than a year. I have been traveling by myself, minimally relying on technology and sporadic texts to real-life people, to get me to my destination. But I have stayed pretty close to home with my writing. There are writing roads I can navigate almost with thought, like driving around my hometown or my current city. I don’t need GPS here (most of the time). But when I have ventured out, I have taken some wrong turns because I don’t know the way. Even with a technologically advanced guide, I am in unfamiliar territory, wondering if this going to end well.

Weeks ago, a friend planted the seed of an idea for a next step in my writing journey. It has been tucked away in a back corner of my mind, and I walked into the retreat weekend knowing that this would be my time to think about it more. To speak the idea out loud amongst other writers and ask for help.

Those three little words–ask for help–are terrifying for me, and I can’t explain why.

I did not want to put pressure on the weekend to produce some definitive result, but I also know that the space to open up heart, mind and soul cannot help but yield some result. I kept the idea close at first and then blurted it out to a writer friend I trust within the first hour of the retreat. The next day, after an informative and encouraging talk by Jane Friedman, I asked that same friend for recommendations about the idea.

On day three of the retreat, with tears in my eyes after another encouraging and slightly overwhelming group conversation, I mentioned the same idea to another writing friend I trust. By the time our closing conversation of the retreat happened and we were asked to set a goal and a deadline, it was pretty clear to me what my goal was going to be.

Photo by Daniil Silantev on Unsplash

So, here it is: I’m going to partner with a writing coach by the end of the summer. I have about four people to choose from, but first I need to decide what I need from a coach. Let me tell you why this is a big deal for me.

I can’t really remember a time in my life when I wasn’t writing. I have a degree in writing. I have decades of professional experience writing and more publishing credits to my name than I can count (thanks to being a reporter for a daily newspaper). Blog posts, articles, essays, that’s like driving on familiar roads to me. 

Book-length projects–especially fiction projects–that’s a cross-country drive without GPS. I am lost, but not without hope to find my way back to the main road again. But there’s a little voice inside of me telling me that I shouldn’t need help with this. That I should be better at it. (That voice is a liar, by the way. Not one writer I said this to agreed with the voice.) That’s like telling someone who grew up driving on the flat roads of the Midwest that driving on mountain roads in Colorado in winter will be no problem.

—

I don’t know why asking for help is so hard, and I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. 

I am learning to ask for help in a lot of areas of my life. I have a team of healthcare providers to help my body function at its best. I “ask” my massage therapist to help me relax and work the tension out of my muscles. I “ask” my chiropractor to keep my spine in alignment so I can move through my day without pain. I “ask” my primary care provider to assess the aches and pains and bodily functions I’m experiencing for concerns and optimal health.

This is just one multi-layered example of how asking for help is necessary.

It is harder to ask for help in an area in which I feel more competent than say, physical health, but it’s still normal and good. I will say it again for myself to hear:

Asking for help is normal and good.

I don’t know about you but I’m not proficient at everything. I don’t know everything there is to know about everything. I don’t have experience in every field of study or arena of life. I need a coach, a guide, someone who can travel with me and help me get back on the right course.

I expect this has application in many areas of life, the least of which is that I know this about myself and can admit it. I was raised in an era when women were gaining independence in their lives, from their homes, for their futures, and taken to an extreme, I could try to rely on myself for everything. But it is too much pressure to know it all and do it all and be it all.

Asking for help. Acknowledging my weaknesses as well as my strengths. These practices will serve me well, I believe.

So I will use the GPS without shame when traveling alone. I will ask others to use their strengths to serve my well-being. And I will offer my strengths to those whose well-being can be served by me.

This is the kind of mutuality the world needs. The kind of interconnectedness that will lift us all up. Maybe it won’t save the world, but it might save us from going through life on our own.

A list and a loss: one year of my life

Between April 4, 2018 and April 4, 2019, I lost almost 33 pounds.

I’m not supposed to tell you this. At least, that’s the vibe I get when I start talking about it in person. When people start to notice that I’ve lost weight, they all want to know the same thing:

How?

I get the sense that people are trying to figure out why it worked for me or why it hasn’t worked for them, whatever the “it” is they’ve tried. Maybe they are just curious and interested. Maybe I’m overthinking it.

The truth is I wish the changes to my body were more magical and easy than they were. In the last year, I made some hard decisions about my exercise routine and my diet, and when I look back on the journey, it was all of it worth it. But none of it was easy. Not the way I want it to be.

—

I turned 40 last year.

And I was tired of what was happening to my mind, my body and my soul. I was making choices, yes, but I also felt like I was letting circumstances and other people determine how my life was going to be. Mostly, it was just a matter of me needing to take action in my own life.

Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash

That’s when I made a list of what I wanted my life to be about for the years 40 and beyond. It’s not a bucket list, because I don’t want the pressure of feeling like I have to accomplish this stuff before some undetermined end date of my life. It’s simply an after-40 list and on it are the things I don’t want to keep putting off for someday.

It’s been a year since I made the list. It’s a computer file that sits on my desktop, and I see it every time I open my computer. On the one hand, when I open it and look at all the checkmarks, I think maybe I could have accomplished more. But then I remind myself that the point is not to rush through everything on the list. It’s an in-progress document. I add things to it as I think of them. And I don’t delete the things that I’ve accomplished. I keep them there with a big checkmark next to them as a record of the positive changes and experiences I’ve had.

This last year has been mostly about my own health and wellness. For me, that is the foundation of all the other things.

My list is divided into categories: physical health; personal growth; travel; experiences; writing; and identity/heritage/family.

Physical health was a priority in the last year because I (like a lot of women I know) have spent years (maybe even an entire decade) taking care of other people and neglecting myself.  Years of therapy helped me to realize that I was worth taking care of, and that’s part of the reason I started the list. I need to see things in writing or in print to remember them. My brain is filled with too many words and ideas and thoughts to automatically remember what it is I want to do.

So, last year, around February, I started running again. My daughter has been participating in Girls on the Run and because I am her running buddy, I usually start training in the late winter/early spring so that I can complete the 5K with her. I committed to running a couple of times a week.

In years past, I tapered off after the 5K and didn’t keep running through the summer because a) it was hard to find time while the kids were home from school and b) heat and humidity is not my friend. But last year, I kept doing it. I think I took three weeks off in July because of schedules and heat but I stuck with it through the bulk of summer. I ran the 5K with my daughter, and then my husband and I ran one on Thanksgiving morning. A month ago, our family of four ran another 5K. And this year’s Girls on the Run 5K is coming up soon. 

Four 5Ks in the span of a year? I would have never thought it possible for me.

But running was just part of the story.

I was having issues with food and I suspected some problem areas but I wasn’t sure. After reading and planning, I decided to do a Whole30 in October. I won’t get into all the details here. You can read up on it yourself if you want, but I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that it was the single most transformative experience of the last year. It is a month-long food experiment that eliminates temporarily some common food groups that cause things like bloating or intestinal problems. It’s mostly meat, veggies, fruit and good fats.

Yes, it was difficult. But it was so beneficial I’m thinking about doing another one this summer. I learned about what foods my body can’t handle without negative consequences. I ate good food. I felt amazing. Like I had unlimited energy.

And I lost weight.

—

This is where it gets hard to talk about. I’m hyperaware of the body positivity (and negativity) messages out there, and I am working hard to change my way of thinking. I don’t believe my body (or yours) has to look a certain way for me (or you) to feel good or be a worthwhile person.

Photo by Taylor Smith on Unsplash

And I love my body more now than I ever have. I feel more like myself, and I’m amazed at what my body can do. These aren’t bad things, but I have to keep in mind that this is what’s true for me. It is not necessarily a prescription for everyone.

There are dresses in my closet I haven’t worn in years and when I put them on now I feel confident and sexy. I recently wore shorts for the first time in a year and when I held the pair that last year was tight I had a moment of dread. But when I put them on, there was room to spare in the waistline.

So I still have to wonder: do my clothes have too much power over my mood and self-worth?

I like what my body can do. I am consistently running 1-2 miles two or three times a week, and I’m getting faster. I’m not winded when I walk up and down stairs. And when I have a week that is more inactive than others, my body lets me know that’s not okay. (Hence the lower back pain I’ve been battling for a few days. Too much sitting recently.)

All of these are positives in my life, and sometimes I feel bad talking about them. It’s not my job to manage other people’s feelings. I want to be proud of the work I’ve done to get myself in a position to feel good about how I look. And I know there are dangerous lines that I could cross and that others do cross.

There must be a balance.

—

My health wasn’t all about losing weight, though.

I got my eyes checked and ordered new glasses for the first time in six years. And early in my 40th year, I made an appointment for a mammogram so I wouldn’t keep putting it off. I’m scheduling massages for myself on a regular basis. These are the kinds of self-care that I typically neglect.

And what about the other categories on my list? Here’s some of what I spent the last year doing:

In the personal growth category, I started playing guitar again last fall and have played half a dozen times or more in church on Sunday mornings. Our worship leader has helped me stretch my knowledge of music and how to play guitar with a band. (There have been tears, mine not hers, but I’m enjoying myself more now because of my new skills.)

In writing, I’ve given my own projects priority and entered contests to get feedback on my progress. I’m attending a writing retreat this summer. More things that could easily slip through the cracks if I don’t view them intentionally.

In family/identity/heritage, we got professional family photos taken in the fall, something we hadn’t done in almost 10 years. It was long overdue.

Photo by Rachel Lynn Photography

Travel and experiences are the two categories that don’t get as much immediate attention, mostly because they require larger amounts of money and effort and time. But even listing them where I can see them and refer back to them is helpful. It reminds me to make actual plans, not putting things off for someday. It gives me something to hope for.

—

I could easily be discouraged that I didn’t make more progress on my list this year, and I am disappointed by some things. Like I need a better method and plan for learning sign language so I can communicate with our niece. And Phil and I have the desire and plan to get ring tattoos so we can do something different with our wedding rings, but that hasn’t come to fruition yet. (I have another idea for a tattoo but mostly I’m a little bit scared.)

I could easily be discouraged that I didn’t make more progress on my list this year, and I am disappointed by some things. There was the race I didn’t run, for example. And I need a better method and plan for learning sign language so I can communicate with our niece. Phil and I also have the desire and plan to get ring tattoos so we can do something different with our wedding rings, but that hasn’t come to fruition yet. (I have another idea for a tattoo but mostly I’m a little bit scared.)

Overall, though, I lean toward satisfied and encouraged. 

The list items I accomplished this year were not grand in magnitude but they made a difference in my life and how I live it. Forward progress.

If there’s anything I want my after-40 life to be about it’s that it’s not too late. To change. To grow. To try something new. To pursue a dream.

I’m excited to see what the next year brings and what I can accomplish between now and then.

I hope you’ll stick around for the journey as well.