Dear Asthma, You Don't Own Me Anymore

I was talking with a friend recently, telling him about some of the things that happened in my childhood that led me to be less and less active.

Say hello to my new friends!

When I was a kid, I loved to run. I loved the sound of my feet slapping against the concrete, and sometimes I would purposely exaggerate that noise as I ran.

I could never run for long, though. It felt like I had a dragon breathing fire in my lungs. I tried describing it to my mom, but I was using kid language, and I don’t think she quite believed me, anyway.

I also loved to play soccer. I played soccer at recess in elementary school, until the bully kicked me out. Then, I would play soccer by myself, kicking my soccer ball against the one brick wall in our back yard that didn’t have windows. I kicked as hard as I could. I was even pretty good at dribbling.

And another sport I loved? Tennis. I was decent at it, too.

But the pain in my lungs was too much. After losing patience over and over again because I couldn’t run the way I wanted to, I gave up trying to play sports. I gave up running. I gave up tennis, and I gave up soccer.

I resorted to riding my bike, and sometimes even then, I had problems.

The main culprit was exercise-induced asthma, which went untreated and undiagnosed for the duration of my childhood and well into adulthood.

In fact, I wasn’t diagnosed with asthma until I was living in Boston. I got sick for about 6 weeks with bronchitis, an upper respiratory infection, sinus infection, and both ears infected. I was so sick that I probably should have been hospitalized. It was a desperate time for me. I was lonely and miserable, with no one there to really take care of me. If I needed medication, food, or anything else, I had to find a way to make myself go out and get it.

For about two weeks I literally could not sleep because I was coughing so much. I was so exhausted that I became weak and delusional.

At that point, my doctor realized that the reason I wasn’t getting better is because the exercise-induced asthma that had always been lurking in me had finally tipped the scales to become chronic.

He put me on a daily ritual of taking medications to try and get the asthma under control. It took months to become stabilized, but I did.

And my asthma has been under good control for years, now.

I occasionally have bad days, when the air quality is particularly bad, or when it’s particularly humid and hot outside. But on most days, thanks to modern medicine, my lungs behave just like a normal person’s lungs.

Last September, when I had hit about the 35 pound mark in my weight loss journey, it occurred to me that I wanted to become an active person. I wasn’t sure what that really looked like yet, but I could see it on the horizon.

Over the next months, I started exploring that. I began incorporating more walking into my day. I also began dancing again, and I started practicing yoga.

Now, I am a regular with yoga practice and dancing, and I’ve started incorporating some light weight training into my workouts, as well.

After a really great hard workout earlier this week, I realized a few things:

I need to remember that working out relaxes me, clears my mind, and empowers me to take action on real and important things in my life. 

This is my holistic approach… work hard to take care of my body with exercise, yoga, and listening to what my body is asking for (usually sleep, rest, and movement, and sometimes food, etc…) and then taking care of my Mind*, with writing, writing, writing… 

And really, what I need to focus on is taking care of my body. My body helps me take care of my mind and spirit… it’s NOT the other way around!!! My body knows more than the Busy Mind does… almost always. 

If I am too busy moving my body around to loud music that I love, assuredly annoying my neighbors, then my Mind has no room. My Mind simply has to go with the flow… 

And then I am clearer, and my Mind has relaxed and let go of the reigns ever so slightly, and I can then think with a clear head, and do whatever needs to be done.

Maybe it was the realization that the more active I keep my body, the more calm my Mind feels… maybe it was the endorphins making me a little loopy. But, on a whim, I saw a friend’s Facebook posting about a 5K run on Sunday, and I decided to sign up, too.

I haven’t run on purpose since the 20-minute mile run back in junior high, when I had to wear ridiculous day-glo orange shorts and a plain white t-shirt, and the gym teacher also didn’t understand that I couldn’t run because of my stupid lungs…

But I have a lot of inspirational friends on my Facebook, and I constantly see them posting about running, biking, and pushing themselves to new limits. I’ve been wanting to run for a long time. I remember loving that feeling when I was a little girl, and I’ve been aching to experience that again.

Finally, I feel like I’m in decent enough shape that it won’t be a lost cause. I might actually be able to do it.

And, as usual, the easy way isn’t how I attack things. If I were going to do the easy way, I would do a program like Couch to 5K. But that’s just not my style.

Instead, I’m just going to dive in.

My goal with this 5K is to finish. Even if I have to walk most of the way, I just want to finish.

Asthma may have stopped me from being active years ago, but it definitely doesn’t stop me anymore. I’m determined to continue exploring and pushing myself to find new and meaningful ways to bring more movement into my life. Movement of my body equals movement of my mind and spirit.

I am thankful for what I have learned so far.

And as for Sunday? Well, we’ll see what I do…

*When I say “Mind”, I don’t mean my actual brain… I mean the parts inside of me that spin… the spinning wheels that keep thoughts constantly whirring, like the sound of an old hard drive spinning (and blowing just about as much hot air, too).

I've Always Been a Dancer

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be in Girl Scouts. I also wanted to take dance lessons and piano lessons.

I had to choose one.

It was such a hard decision. I desperately wanted to fit in with the girls at school—that’s why I wanted to be in Girl Scouts. I also felt a natural inclination to dance: I vaguely remember a show I was part of in kindergarten and I absolutely loved the dancing.

But, we already had a piano at home that I had spent time tinkering on, so I felt the most connected to piano and ultimately, I chose piano lessons.

I didn’t stop dancing. But, over time, dancing became a strictly social activity for me. I only danced if I went to a club or other social gathering where dancing was part of the event. Even then, I was very conscious of how I moved, aware that people watched me, so I made sure to never make a “stupid” move. I always knew I had a sense of rhythm, but I heavily judged my own dancing because I’d never had any training (so how could I possibly "do it right" or "be any good"?). 

I slowly became more sedentary and turned to other things (like making jewelry) as my primary form of expression. The weight piled on, and then it was so much effort to dance that I rarely felt like doing it. I would break a sweat after dancing for only a couple of minutes, and it just didn’t feel very good.

Through the deep and wide journey I’ve been walking over the past year, my eyes have opened. I see and feel who I really am, and the woman I’ve been denying for so many years is happy to be out and about! I’ve done so many things to get out of my comfort zone, including the Movement Montage I spoke about in another blog post.

Since participating in my first Movement Montage, I’ve rediscovered dancing.

Not just rediscovered, though—it’s on a whole other level for me. It’s more primal and it feels more necessary than ever before.

Thanks to yoga and dancing, I have felt my body open up in ways I didn’t realize I was so tightly locked down. My hips are more open, and my joints are looser. And, hold on...

I have hips!
And a waist line! 

And, my muscles are firming up—yet not holding on to nearly as much tension, and, quite simply—I feel better. Part of that is losing weight, of course, but part of it is rediscovering a piece of me, and realizing that I have unearthed one of my many parts that I chose to bury over the years.

Dancing has become a sacred part of my day.

Recently, I went to see a pain specialist to get help for my back pain. We discussed my MRI results, and he said that with the type of degeneration I have in my discs, plus the fact that my dad has struggled with similar issues, I will likely have to stop dancing at some point.

My response to that?

Make me.

You see, I dance just for me.

It’s not an image thing. It’s not even a control thing. It’s about totally letting go of control and just being.

And, yes, it's also about surrender.

(And heaven knows I need all the practice in that that I can get.)

I dance because I want to—not to impress anyone or try to get anyone’s attention—and that is freeing in a way that I’d never thought possible. I’m free to just be my hammy self and move in ways I want to move.

A friend of mine recently marveled at how my hips move as well as my strong sense of rhythm, and how I can sense the flow of music. She knew I was a musician just by the way I danced.

That got me thinking. When I'm dancing... it feels good, and I am utterly connected to the music I'm dancing to.

I feel sensual… even sexy.

I’m realizing something else, too.

I am graceful.

I dance with abandon.

I dance for the love of dancing.

I dance because I can’t not dance…

And no matter what any doctor says, I will keep dancing—from now till the end.

Yoga: A Transformational Revelation

I’m in a constant state of soreness these days.

But, it’s a good kind of sore.

On Saturday, I went to a class that was entirely foreign to me. My therapist had actually urged me to go. She had talked about this class a couple of times before, but I managed to conveniently forget about it every time I walked out her door.

Last Thursday, I was in a very bad head space. I was stressed out about a lot of things and a lot of self-defeating tapes were on replay in my head. On the way to work, my phone rang, and it was my therapist.

Sometimes, when you’re in a bad head space, a phone call can feel like a lifeline. And that’s exactly what it felt like last Thursday—her phone call felt like a beam of light coming straight down from the heavens.

She was calling to give me details on the class, happening on Saturday.

I knew it was unavoidable this time.

I dreaded it… but I knew I had to go.

I’m not sure why I dreaded it so much. I guess it was just the fear of doing it wrong or making a fool of myself, or maybe it was just apprehension that it was going to be some hippy-dippy silliness that wouldn’t make sense to me (and, wow, how many judgments are wrapped up in that? Yeah… LOTS).

On Saturday afternoon, though, my fear subsided. I realized that I was falling back into the fear trap, which is a trap I had been stuck in for years, causing high anxiety over lots of things, like decisions I had to make, things I needed to do, and situations that were inevitably out of my control.

I’ve only recently re-discovered the fearlessness I felt as a little girl. So, once I realized what I was doing, I smiled, knowing that there were bigger issues to worry about than going to the Movement Montage class.

I felt awkward at first, because the instructor, Liz Tucker, started out with some Yoga poses. I’d never done Yoga before. I was clueless!

What if I do it wrong? What if I break something? What if—

Just breathe.

Just do it.

I took a deep breath, looked around and saw what others were doing, and I copied.

The second part was Ecstatic Dance. By the time Liz transitioned us to dancing, I was open, warm, and ready. I moved my body in every way I wanted to, and in every way it called me to move it. She played a couple of songs that have always touched me deeply for various reasons, and I felt a beautiful release. I also got a hell of a workout!

At the end, I felt more relaxed, open, warm, and calm than I’ve felt in years. It was absolutely blissful, and I can't wait to do it again.

Ever since Saturday, I’ve been obsessed with Yoga (not to mention dancing around in my living room like a wild thing). A couple of the poses Liz walked us through really inspired and moved me deeply.

I felt the beginnings of a magical awakening when we did child’s pose and pigeon pose. We did pigeon sitting upright as well as folded over, with some cool stretching movements to transition between the up and down parts.

I recognized the beauty of pigeon right away. I was struggling to keep my balance, with the muscles flexed and rigid in my folded leg. I didn’t even realize what my body was doing, but, for just an instant—my leg muscles relaxed.

And when I just let the leg be there, folded up under me like that… I felt a physical release and stretch and openness in my hips that I had never experienced. I had no idea how much I was holding in my hips, and how tight and heavy they had become. It was more transformative for me than I can possibly articulate here, but this pose is one my body has begged me to do every day since.

I have indulged, of course.

Child’s pose was very relaxing when I did it in the class, but since then, it’s become sacred. I had a breakthrough on Sunday evening, when I found myself in child’s pose on my living room floor. I stayed there for a few moments, trying different modifications of the position with my arms, head, and back, and I landed back in child’s pose with wide-spread knees, and my arms extended forward. I pressed my forehead into the carpet, and it hit me that this pose is much like a prayer pose.

And then I started crying.

I cried into the carpet for several minutes, feeling my connection to the Earth, as well as my own inner light, and feeling God in my heart in that moment.

And I prayed. I prayed about a difficult situation I was handling, and I asked questions, and then I went silent. I continued to lie there in child’s pose until I felt like moving. I have no idea how much time passed. I got up and went about finishing the laundry, and the answer I longed for came to me:

“You keep doing what you’re doing. Keep taking care of yourself, keep working on yourself, keep growing, as you already are. Let me handle them.”

The relief washed over me as I received that beautiful reminder. I don’t have to be in control of anyone or anything but me.

I have fallen in love with Yoga. I don’t know why I put off trying it for so long, but I think it had something to do with the fears I mentioned earlier.

No more fear! 

I can’t afford to go to classes all the time right now, but luckily for me, there is a wealth of knowledge available for free on the internet. And, I’ve figured out a way to get the lighting just right at home to see myself in a window, to check my positioning. For now, that will have to do.

This, I can tell, will be absolutely transformative for me. It’s already changing me, changing my body, my mind, and my attitude, and I’m only five days into it.

I look forward to tonight, so I can learn more poses.

If you practice Yoga… what’s your favorite pose?

My Weight Loss Journey, Continued

I haven’t posted in forever! I know. I’m long, long overdue.

The truth is, I’ve gone through some really difficult stuff over the past several months. It really started to hit me in June, and it’s still going on now. The good thing is… I’m through the worst of it.

But, still… sometimes life throws curve balls for which you are unbelievably unprepared.

I’ll also be honest, and say that I have gone back and forth about a thousand times, trying to decide how much to say here on my blog. You’ll notice that so far, I’ve chosen to stay quiet… but I would like to share a couple of things. At some point, I’ll share more, but I need to wait until a couple of larger issues have resolution first.

 

So, as for what I will share…

I have lost 50 pounds.

Yes. Fifty.

(That's me... the "just barely overweight" me, on the right!)

I’ve done it the right way, with adjustments in diet and portion control. Now I wish I had taken progress photos from the beginning! I started this journey back at the very beginning of May, and I’m still going. I have 32 pounds left to lose, to reach my original goal.

Up until last week, I was absolutely determined to make it, but I’ve run into an unexpected snag.

I just ordered some jeans from Old Navy, and when they came in I immediately put them on and pranced around in front of the mirror for a good 15 minutes, posing and looking at myself in utter disbelief at how small the number was on the inside of those jeans, and the jeans fit me so well, and I let the belief sink in as I looked at all the shrinking parts of me, smiling wide all the while.

In other words… I’ve never been as happy with my body as I am in this moment.

In fact, I’m so happy with the way I look and feel right now that I’m having a hard time staying motivated to continue losing more weight!

Holy cow… I really wasn’t expecting that.

Last week was a wash. Intense work stress provided just the needed excuse to eat poorly. I shoveled candy and chocolate, fattening food, and higher portions than I have been eating.

Friday night, I found myself thinking, “What the hell am I doing?”

I’ve been on such a roll with losing the weight I want to lose… and I’ve done an excellent job. But, this past week… I just gave up.

I listened as my internal voice told me the same thing it’s told me time and time again, for years. 

“Just this one piece won’t hurt. 

Just one more bite won’t hurt. 

It’s no big deal.”

I realized that while I am happy with the way I look right now, it’s going to be hard to maintain (let alone continue to lose) if I go right back to the bad old eating habits I used to have.

I think one thing adding difficulty is that I don’t have a point of reference. I’ve never been the size I’m going for. Never. Not even in high school. Not even in junior high... or elementary school, for that matter. I’ve been overweight for almost my entire life, so I don’t actually know what it feels like to feel slender, or a normal size… I have no clue what it feels like (or looks like!) to fit well within the “healthy weight range” for my height. Not a clue!

So, I can see how it’s easy to stop trying. I don’t know what my goal looks like or feels like, so I’m not entirely sure how to keep it tangible.

These are the things I thought about and wrote about in my private journal on Friday.

I had a pretty significant “light bulb” or epiphany after all that thinking… and Saturday morning, I woke up with a renewed sense of motivation.

I realized that if I quit now, I would be following suit with so many decisions I’ve made in my life.

I’d be settling.

Settling for a size and weight that isn’t where I want to be. Settling for not looking as good as I know I can look… settling for not feeling as good as I can feel.

Settling… is such an ugly pattern in my life! But now that I realize what I was doing, I am absolutely resolute in my decision to plow forward and continue on with losing more weight… At least 32 more pounds to reach my original goal.

I will get there. I’m absolutely determined.

And tonight, I made a very yummy chicken and veggie soup to help support that cause…

I’m back on the wagon, y’all.

Watch out!

My Personal Food Revolution

When I was a little girl, and even into high school and college, I loved having my picture taken. I used to joke that I looked better in pictures than I did in person.

But some time in the past few years, I became camera shy.

I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but it all stemmed from seeing recent-ish pictures of myself and wanting to puke. I don't feel that fat. I don't feel any more fat than I have ever been. And stepping on the scale (as of 6 weeks ago), I was actually the same weight I've been for years.

I'm talking 10 years of a consistent weight... and I'm still 15 pounds less than my fattest (which happened at a particularly bad stretch within that 10 yrs).

Yet, when I look at pictures, everything looks saggy and puffy and ICKY. When did I start to sag this much? When did all my fat bits gather together in one spot or several pronounced spots like they have now? It made me feel very self-conscious, because I don't feel fat (how is a fat person supposed to feel, anyway?).

I feel like I've always felt, except that I'm happy. The pictures I take of myself reflect that happy inner me, because I can manage to take pictures that avoid highlighting the fatty saggy bits.

But seeing pictures that other people have taken of me, I felt so sad. The pretty, vivacious, fun me wasn’t being captured. All I could see was the fat that I could hardly even believe was actually there.

So... I felt motivated to do something about it.

Six weeks ago, I radically changed my eating habits.

And in that amount of time, I’ve lost 15 pounds.

FIFTEEN POUNDS, people.

This isn’t the first time I’ve worked to lose weight. I lost 30 pounds before Brett and I got married back in 2003, but I was still doing it the wrong way, which at the time meant Slim Fast shakes and basically starving myself. Well, sure, it worked, and I had to have my dress altered like whoa, because the thing was falling off of me. But as soon as the wedding was over, I started eating again and porked right back out.

I’ve done the Slim Fast things many times in the past, usually in a nearly futile effort to gain momentum and motivation for more weight loss.

Not surprisingly, it never worked.

This time is all different. Something inside of me clicked, like flipping on a light switch. It’s truly a lifestyle change. I’ve known this on a cognitive level for years, but it’s different when that cognition moves to coursing through your veins. It’s overwhelming and empowering and suddenly, I can’t wait to act on it.

It’s all about choices. And sometimes, each bite is a choice.

Do I really need this bite, or do I just want it? 


Or is it that I just feel obligated to eat it, because it’s there, and somewhere in the very dark recesses of my mind, there’s a tape playing that says, “Clean your plate!”?

Just like choosing to have a good day, instead of waiting for the fates to bestow a good day upon me, I have the power to choose to eat good things instead of eating by default.

It’s not a diet, it’s an entirely different way of thinking about food.

Now, I think about what’s going to be good for my body. I think about what I’ve eaten in a week to determine whether or not I can indulge in one of my many sweet tooth desires, like ice cream, chocolate, and other ridiculously rich and chocolately desserts.

I am allowing myself to have a special treat about twice a week.

And I have less of it.

If it’s a piece of pie, it’s a small piece. If it’s a bowl of ice cream, it’s less than a scoop instead of filled to the brim.

I’m finding that not only do I look forward to my treat… I savor the treat even more. I’m still allowing myself to have it—so it’s not deprivation, but I’m having markedly less in both quantity and frequency.

And it’s working!

As for meals, I’m thinking about food as to how it’s going to treat my body. Will it treat my body well, or will I pay for it later with indigestion and stomach pains, feeling crappy and having no energy, and ultimately weight gain?

Here’s an example.

I hadn’t eaten fried food in weeks, and I decided to have fish and chips as an indulgence meal. I really enjoyed that meal, but later?

I got sick.

My body had so quickly become used to fresh, healthy food that it really hated the fried dinner.

Lesson learned! I won’t do that again.

Much of the time, I’m finding that giving in to an impulsive indulgence really isn’t worth it. Eating a cookie here and there isn’t going to be the end of me… but making the distance between “here” and “there” longer will make me feel happier and healthier and better.

What’s more, I’m learning the power of saying no. Passing up something like generic birthday cake at the office actually feels good, because I’m winning a battle my brain is trying to fight against me. And those kinds of triumphs are really hard to articulate, but it’s akin to getting a parking spot in the front row at the store when it’s raining cats and dogs and you don’t have your umbrella.

It’s a small and simple thing that just feels good.

The moral of the story? It’s an ongoing story, and I’m learning along the way.

The point is, I don’t have a set destination. The word ‘diet’ isn’t even in my vocabulary. I don’t have a certain number of pounds in mind to lose. BMI is a number on someone else’s radar—not mine! All I know is that I want to feel and look better. I want to continue to have more energy. I want to give my body good things to keep it strong and happy and healthy.

And as long as I’m going about this the right way for me, I absolutely can’t go wrong.

And soon, I won’t be so camera shy. I’ll be begging folks to take my picture.