I was more rock and roll at 16 than I am now, we all were
The screeching guitars, crashing symbols and amplified vocals
Sent thrills through me then and we would
Turn it up times ten in my little gold Tercel that lost its’ rims
to bumps in the road on a regular basis,
Leaving me to pull over and scurry into medians after them, hoping
no one would recognize me on the way to
Wednesday night Youth Group – we would pack out
that upstairs room; where our own rock stars would perform on
the stage we built for them; playing to our hearts content
Hundreds of jumping feet, singing along and
I can remember every beat of those songs, each break in the music
building suspense and we were so cool to know the next word
This was our rock and roll; our version of blue streaked hair and cigarettes it
Kept us safe from what happens next
Where we go our own ways and pretend it will always be the same
between us, but knowing deep down – these were fleeting moments that are
Now memories that rush back to me at 20, 25 and now at 29,
Flashes of what we wanted to be and how we desperately wanted to just stay on
those couches, listening to the strumming of the guitar and harmonized voices
singing songs that still play in my head on a rainy day where
The splatter of rain on my window, the tears that may have spilled; remind me
of who we were in those safe moments, where we needed each other most
and what we’ll never be again
aam 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
Confessions of a Middle Schooler and Being So Glad I'm 29 Instead
I’m in a place in my life where I’m reflecting on “how I got here.” Not really like “God” vs. Big Bang or anything – but more of like, thinking about the person I have become at 29.
I usually get this way after a big event (whether it’s in my life or someone close to me) or when I stumble across some of my old writing and it makes me think. So lucky me – both of these things happened to me recently so it’s been a double whammy. I had this big rubber maid bin sitting in the back of my Honda Fit (best car ever!!) for the longest time. My parents keep telling me to come to their house so I can bring all my old stuff that is sitting in their attic to my house. I started this process over the summer – and you see how far I got with it. From their attic to the back of my car. Ironically enough, prepping for my wedding and needing all the space in my car prompted me to finally move that big bin of “stuff” inside the house. Now that the big event is over, and I’m going through the process of cleaning up, organizing and trying to feel truly settled – I knew that it was time to open the bin, for better or worse, right?
So for those of you that don’t know me or haven’t known me for very long – all of my “big bins” of stuff that are saved from growing up contain writing. My writing – I’ve kept a diary, written stories, a journal, a blog every since I was able to write practically. Seriously – in the bin I went through recently, I found a journal from second grade where my teacher asked us to respond to a question every day that I had kept. I found several short stories I wrote in elementary school when I was part of the “writing club” and journals full of despair as my third grade self found out we were moving to a new town and I’d have to leave all my friends.
So when I go through these bins, it’s an all day process. I must read everything. I am always, always amazed by how brutally honest I was in those diaries and journals. Some entries really make me sad for my younger self. I want to find a time machine so I can go back and appear to myself at 10 year old and say “Don’t worry – you’ll get through this, you’ll make the best of friends in the next few years.” And at 16 I want to tell myself that hearts do heal, and that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. The entries from middle school are probably the worse. I am almost embarrassed to read them. One of the middle school entries I found during my most recent “bin” adventure was a contract that I wrote out for myself in my journal. It was about how I promised to not be fat anymore and that I didn’t want to live the rest of my life being overweight. And so I signed a contract agreeing to lose weight and be happier. The next 5-6 pages after the signed contract were food logs of all the meals and snacks I ate and how much I exercised.
Looking back at this attempt to “be happy” at age 12 or 13 and seeing my food log, I am alarmed at how uneducated I was about what eating healthy meant. My breakfast consisted of Toaster Strudles and Chocolate Milk. Lunch was frozen chicken nuggets and baked fries. Wendy’s spicy chicken sandwich and fries for dinner.
I truly had no clue how to help myself. It’s like I knew that I should be watching what I eat – but I didn’t understand anything about healthy choices. Why was that kind of junk even in my house to begin with? I was too embarrassed to ask anyone for help and my entire family struggled with the same weight issues so I didn’t really have someone to show me what to do. As I continued to read my journals, they are filled with disappointment in myself, asking God why he was punishing me by making me be overweight. How it wasn’t fair. There were even some entries where I tried to strike a deal with God – you know, I’ll be really good and you can make me lose 5 pounds this week. Man, it breaks my heart to read those words. That desperation to be different from who I was. I wonder how many other people had those same feelings growing up and perhaps just didn’t document them. How many people still have these feelings?
To be honest, I had forgotten how unhappy I was during those years in my life. Not with my friends or family, but just with myself. And instead of asking for help – I just floundered around for so long by myself. Knowing I needed to change but having no idea how to do it – at least not in a way that was lasting. It took me most of my teenage years and a lot of my 20’s to find the courage to change and actually DO something to help myself. Instead of it requiring an amazing amount of strength and self determination – I found that making a decision to change my lifestyle and become educated about how to be healthy was really more of a surrender to myself and my previous lifestyle.
It was more about learning how to let go of how you’ve always been – and allowing the opportunity to be a “new you” shine through . Letting go of those pictures of you with braces and the unfortunate outfits. Letting go of that hairstyle that you didn’t know looked so ridiculous. Letting go of all those habits to just not talk about it and deal with it in your head. Letting go of those insults and comments people made to you because you were a chubby kid or teenager.
Honestly – it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It is something I still struggle with today. As I read through those entries in my journals, I wanted to go back to that girl who wrote them and give her a hug and wipe her tears away and tell her that she is not alone. I want to go back and tell her how to find the right information about being healthy – to explain that weight loss is not a miracle that happens to some people and not for others. To show her that making a few changes at a time can lead to a long lasting impact. And really – to tell her to stop being so scared of just trying. To stop writing and thinking about what she should do so much and just DO IT.
And it brings me full circle to where I am now in my life. Reading those entries makes me feel even more strongly that we have to help each other with our goals. And not keep quiet about them. Find people that have the same mind set and surround yourself with positivity. Because I didn’t let anyone in on how I felt about myself when I was younger – no one could ever help me. That was a big mistake and one that so many people are still making today – even in their adult lives. I used to think (even in college) that if I talked about weight loss or wanting to lose weight that people would see me as bigger than I already was. That I would be looked down on. I have no idea why I thought that – I guess my weight and my struggle to be healthier was something I buried deep inside me and talking about it made it more real and I wasn’t ready for that.
I have been more successful in my weight loss journey since I have opened up about it. This process has not only helped me physically look and feel better – but emotionally – it has been a positive adventure as well. One that I wouldn’t trade for anything because I have learned so much about myself from it. I wanted to share this today because I think so many people are out there trying to do this alone and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to….finding someone who is excited about fitness, or excited about eating healthy things is a great place to start. Don’t feel like you have to find someone with the same weight loss goals as you – one of my biggest inspirations two and a half years ago was actually a co-worker turned friend who was already in excellent shape. She was just so excited about living a healthy lifestyle that it encouraged me to be that way as well. She didn’t look down at me and tell me I had a long way to go. She just was always up for working out, meeting up to eat meals we made at home, and being a great friend in the process.
So stop looking for someone else that has the same issues as you do, someone who can complain with you about your mutual disappointments – and look for people who have the same dreams that you do. Instead of focusing on how much weight you have to lose – think of it as how you want to be healthier. How you want to run a 5k. How you want to swim 10 laps without stopping. Focus on the cup being half full instead of the other way. This type of positivity is impossible to ignore. It will start making changes in your life, and in other peoples life like this ripple effect you can’t even begin to imagine. And it’s the sort of impact that is long-lasting, life changing, and something you’ll want to write about. You know, so you can go back in 10 years and read it, and realize how right you were.
I usually get this way after a big event (whether it’s in my life or someone close to me) or when I stumble across some of my old writing and it makes me think. So lucky me – both of these things happened to me recently so it’s been a double whammy. I had this big rubber maid bin sitting in the back of my Honda Fit (best car ever!!) for the longest time. My parents keep telling me to come to their house so I can bring all my old stuff that is sitting in their attic to my house. I started this process over the summer – and you see how far I got with it. From their attic to the back of my car. Ironically enough, prepping for my wedding and needing all the space in my car prompted me to finally move that big bin of “stuff” inside the house. Now that the big event is over, and I’m going through the process of cleaning up, organizing and trying to feel truly settled – I knew that it was time to open the bin, for better or worse, right?
So for those of you that don’t know me or haven’t known me for very long – all of my “big bins” of stuff that are saved from growing up contain writing. My writing – I’ve kept a diary, written stories, a journal, a blog every since I was able to write practically. Seriously – in the bin I went through recently, I found a journal from second grade where my teacher asked us to respond to a question every day that I had kept. I found several short stories I wrote in elementary school when I was part of the “writing club” and journals full of despair as my third grade self found out we were moving to a new town and I’d have to leave all my friends.
So when I go through these bins, it’s an all day process. I must read everything. I am always, always amazed by how brutally honest I was in those diaries and journals. Some entries really make me sad for my younger self. I want to find a time machine so I can go back and appear to myself at 10 year old and say “Don’t worry – you’ll get through this, you’ll make the best of friends in the next few years.” And at 16 I want to tell myself that hearts do heal, and that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. The entries from middle school are probably the worse. I am almost embarrassed to read them. One of the middle school entries I found during my most recent “bin” adventure was a contract that I wrote out for myself in my journal. It was about how I promised to not be fat anymore and that I didn’t want to live the rest of my life being overweight. And so I signed a contract agreeing to lose weight and be happier. The next 5-6 pages after the signed contract were food logs of all the meals and snacks I ate and how much I exercised.
Looking back at this attempt to “be happy” at age 12 or 13 and seeing my food log, I am alarmed at how uneducated I was about what eating healthy meant. My breakfast consisted of Toaster Strudles and Chocolate Milk. Lunch was frozen chicken nuggets and baked fries. Wendy’s spicy chicken sandwich and fries for dinner.
I truly had no clue how to help myself. It’s like I knew that I should be watching what I eat – but I didn’t understand anything about healthy choices. Why was that kind of junk even in my house to begin with? I was too embarrassed to ask anyone for help and my entire family struggled with the same weight issues so I didn’t really have someone to show me what to do. As I continued to read my journals, they are filled with disappointment in myself, asking God why he was punishing me by making me be overweight. How it wasn’t fair. There were even some entries where I tried to strike a deal with God – you know, I’ll be really good and you can make me lose 5 pounds this week. Man, it breaks my heart to read those words. That desperation to be different from who I was. I wonder how many other people had those same feelings growing up and perhaps just didn’t document them. How many people still have these feelings?
To be honest, I had forgotten how unhappy I was during those years in my life. Not with my friends or family, but just with myself. And instead of asking for help – I just floundered around for so long by myself. Knowing I needed to change but having no idea how to do it – at least not in a way that was lasting. It took me most of my teenage years and a lot of my 20’s to find the courage to change and actually DO something to help myself. Instead of it requiring an amazing amount of strength and self determination – I found that making a decision to change my lifestyle and become educated about how to be healthy was really more of a surrender to myself and my previous lifestyle.
It was more about learning how to let go of how you’ve always been – and allowing the opportunity to be a “new you” shine through . Letting go of those pictures of you with braces and the unfortunate outfits. Letting go of that hairstyle that you didn’t know looked so ridiculous. Letting go of all those habits to just not talk about it and deal with it in your head. Letting go of those insults and comments people made to you because you were a chubby kid or teenager.
Honestly – it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It is something I still struggle with today. As I read through those entries in my journals, I wanted to go back to that girl who wrote them and give her a hug and wipe her tears away and tell her that she is not alone. I want to go back and tell her how to find the right information about being healthy – to explain that weight loss is not a miracle that happens to some people and not for others. To show her that making a few changes at a time can lead to a long lasting impact. And really – to tell her to stop being so scared of just trying. To stop writing and thinking about what she should do so much and just DO IT.
And it brings me full circle to where I am now in my life. Reading those entries makes me feel even more strongly that we have to help each other with our goals. And not keep quiet about them. Find people that have the same mind set and surround yourself with positivity. Because I didn’t let anyone in on how I felt about myself when I was younger – no one could ever help me. That was a big mistake and one that so many people are still making today – even in their adult lives. I used to think (even in college) that if I talked about weight loss or wanting to lose weight that people would see me as bigger than I already was. That I would be looked down on. I have no idea why I thought that – I guess my weight and my struggle to be healthier was something I buried deep inside me and talking about it made it more real and I wasn’t ready for that.
I have been more successful in my weight loss journey since I have opened up about it. This process has not only helped me physically look and feel better – but emotionally – it has been a positive adventure as well. One that I wouldn’t trade for anything because I have learned so much about myself from it. I wanted to share this today because I think so many people are out there trying to do this alone and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to….finding someone who is excited about fitness, or excited about eating healthy things is a great place to start. Don’t feel like you have to find someone with the same weight loss goals as you – one of my biggest inspirations two and a half years ago was actually a co-worker turned friend who was already in excellent shape. She was just so excited about living a healthy lifestyle that it encouraged me to be that way as well. She didn’t look down at me and tell me I had a long way to go. She just was always up for working out, meeting up to eat meals we made at home, and being a great friend in the process.
So stop looking for someone else that has the same issues as you do, someone who can complain with you about your mutual disappointments – and look for people who have the same dreams that you do. Instead of focusing on how much weight you have to lose – think of it as how you want to be healthier. How you want to run a 5k. How you want to swim 10 laps without stopping. Focus on the cup being half full instead of the other way. This type of positivity is impossible to ignore. It will start making changes in your life, and in other peoples life like this ripple effect you can’t even begin to imagine. And it’s the sort of impact that is long-lasting, life changing, and something you’ll want to write about. You know, so you can go back in 10 years and read it, and realize how right you were.
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