Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

whole30

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.

Broken and Whole

I came home crying from work one day last week. This is not something I make a habit of but it’s been a stressful few weeks with more stressful weeks to come, and I was fed some misinformation by someone whose intentions were good but whose word I should not have trusted. This was the kind of ugly cry sobbing that scared even me because I couldn’t control it. Thankfully it was a day my husband was home when I got there and I could get it all out of my system in a safe place and way.

For weeks now, I have felt strong and capable, convinced that whatever life has to throw at me will not break me. I have said these words in my head, “This will not break me.” And it is stunning to hear my inner voice say something so definitive. I have convinced even myself that whatever “this” is, it will not break me. I used to be the girl who thought any small criticism was the end of the world, any deviation from the plan a disaster. (Confession: I’m still sometimes that girl.)

So. Many. Things. are wearing me down right now, but I no longer feel like my house–in this case my mind,  my will, my spirit–is made of straw or sticks. It is a fortified house of bricks, a shelter from the blustery wind outside.

This will not break me, I say to myself, and I live as though it is true.

—

Part of this newfound strength and resolve has to do with my diet, i.e, the food I’m putting into my body.

For the last 30 days I’ve embarked on an experiment with food called Whole30. (If you aren’t familiar with the program it’s a 30-day elimination process for foods to help you reset your body and discover the effects certain foods have on you.) For 30 days, I have cut out sugar, dairy, legumes, and grains, and focused on eating high-quality meats, veggies and fruits along with good fats like avocados and olive and coconut oils. It was nerve-wracking at first and a little overwhelming to attempt but I made a plan and bought ingredients to have on hand in my house and a few days before my official start, I started thinking like I was doing a Whole30. I began the slow elimination of the temporarily forbidden foods.

Before this, my health was already improving. I had lost 12 pounds since the beginning of the year, partly due to having a job outside the home for the first time in almost 10 years and partly due to a commitment to running two to three times a week. But I needed to take this next step to reset my relationship with food and try to discover what exactly was causing me such distress.

I won’t chronicle everything about the month for you. Maybe at some point I’ll write more of it down, but at the end of these 30 days, I feel more amazing than I imagined I could. I happen to look good, too, in my own opinion, but it’s the feeling good part that has me convinced that some of the foods I’ve been eating are not doing me any favors.

I still don’t understand the mental shift that takes place when you change your eating habits and I’m about to enter the phase of the process where you reintroduce your body to the foods you eliminated, but no matter what the scale says or how my pants fit, I cannot deny the way I feel. Even in the midst of stress, I have not been paralyzed by anxiety. Even though I’m still sometimes impatient, I haven’t felt like exploding as much as I used to. I still get tired, but I don’t feel exhausted by the middle of the day. I feel too good to go back to how things were.

It’s called the Whole30, I think because of the nature of the foods you eat while doing it, but in my mind, this process has made me feel more whole, like I’m giving my whole self to my life now. And while I don’t consider myself to have arrived or finished the work of healing, the Whole30 has been like finding another piece to the puzzle of me. When I stripped away some of the comfort foods and crutches I’d relied on to see me through tough times, somehow I discovered that I was stronger than I knew, that I didn’t need those things to get me through.

It’s confidence building, and I’ve never had confidence in abundance, no matter what it seems like on the outside.

—

Photo by chuttersnap on Unsplash

“The world breaks everyone, and afterward many are strong at the broken places.”

This is a line Ernest Hemingway wrote in A Farewell to Arms. I’ve not read it, or if I have I don’t really remember it, but this quote is tossed around often and that last part sticks in my brain like a piece of food between teeth. The more I try to free it, the more stuck it becomes.

Strong at the broken places. I think I know what it means. I think maybe I’ve even experienced it. Or I am experiencing it now. If the quote ended there it would be inspiring and encouraging, but anyone who has read Hemingway or knows about his life knows that inspiring and encouraging are not really his jam. Which is why the next line makes a lot of sense, too.

“But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially.”

Now A Farewell to Arms is a war novel, and I might have to pick up a copy just so I can find this line in the story and see if its meaning becomes any clearer, but I get it. Sort of. Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe Hemingway himself didn’t understand it. I know all too well how it is to be a vessel for words. I can’t pinpoint the origin of many of the sentences I string together. I sit down to write one thing and something else entirely emerges. Maybe Hemingway knew this. He is the same man who said, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

It is like that, sometimes, when I’m ready to let it, like bleeding my thoughts and feelings and observations onto the screen. It’s hardly ever about gratuitous attention. I release my thoughts so I know what I’m feeling, so I can make sense of the world. If you also take something from that, that is a bonus side effect.

I don’t know if Hemingway meant “broken places” as an actual physical location, like the site of a battle, or if he was meaning metaphorically, like the places inside of us that are broken, but I believe that experiencing brokenness can make us stronger.

—

There is a broken place in my heart. Not the literal one that pumps blood through my body but the one we talk about when we talk about spirit and emotions. A crack runs right through it. Probably more than one. The broken places are many. And they are mended.

There were days–and weeks, months, and years–when I was sure I would be broken beyond repair. When I thought the breaking would kill me.

In a way, it did. A part of me died, but even the broken places allowed some light to penetrate. Growth springs from cracked and broken all the time. Look at the trees whose stumps sprout with new branches. Look at the cracks in the sidewalk where flowers and grass and weeds push up, straining and striving for the light.

Photo by Abhishek Pawar on Unsplash

Sometimes all it takes is a little bit of light to convince you you’re not finished yet. Sometimes you’re broken and think you’ll always stay that way. But all the while you’re healing and you don’t even know it until one day instead of feeling like life is beating you down with every chance you get, you stare it right in the face and say, “Bring it.”

You are strong because of the broken places. Somehow the cracks have contributed to your strength. Maybe you could have been strong without them, but maybe you couldn’t. Maybe you needed the broken places to prove you couldn’t be broken forever. Or that you could be broken but you would survive it.

It is a weird thing to feel strength in your spirit when you know how weak you have been. It is almost like you are a different person. Or you had a dream about someone else’s life.

I think Hemingway is right that the world breaks everyone. We all have a breaking point, and maybe that changes based on the day. Maybe we are not always strong at the broken places or anywhere. But maybe we could be. Maybe we hope to be.

I wish I had a formula to tell you how, but all I have are years of life experience, much of which I wouldn’t wish on anyone. All I can say is if you think you can’t survive it–whatever “it” is–give it another day.

—

I don’t fully understand the relationship between broken and whole, how they can work together and how you can sometimes be both at the same time. I have known seasons of broken that I thought would never end and I’ve had glimpses of whole that I wished would endure, but what’s happening now is like an ebb and flow, like the tide coming in and out with regularity. I no longer believe I will only have one or the other but they will both be present, maybe in equal measure, maybe not. But I have hope that the broken won’t last forever and the whole will come, and I have confidence that the whole will be more than a fleeting glimpse.

This week I have felt them both. They both make up a part of me. They both contribute to my life.

I am broken but not destroyed. I am whole but not yet finished.