The Battle of the Bulge

There aren't many pictures of me as a baby. The few that are around show a beautiful baby, bubbling over with baby fat rolls and chubby cheeks. I was a well-fed chunky baby. 

I guess you can say I've been a member of Team Chubb Chubb since birth. 

I grew out of some of my baby fat by the time I became of school age. I still wasn't thin, but I did look a little more normal. It didn't help that around the same time, I moved upstate New York to live with my grandmother. With her, my diet largely consisted of McDonald's and other fast foods. And with soul food being the heart of southern cooking, home-cooked meals were often not very healthy. Dinner plates were met with generous helpings and offers for more food. More food = more love. 

When I moved back to Brooklyn in the second grade, I indulged in my mom's post pregnancy food cravings and binges. I began to pack on more weight. Being tall, heavy, and outside of the social loop made me a prime target for years of incessant teasing (bullying honestly). And kids, well they can be quite cruel.

As I hit adolescence, I began to lose weight again, largely due to poor eating habits (not eating), stress, and having gym four days a week in high school. Also, running up and down seven to eight flights of steps over and over each day helped. I still wasn't thin, but I was a lot better than in previous years. It was hard for me to see the difference- clothes shopping was still difficult. Juniors sizes were still too small, or just hard to come by. So I hid behind baggy t-shirts and jeans. 

In college, the scale began to creep up. 180... 190... 200... 210... 220... By the time I finished grad school in 2008, I was about 230lbs. With the stress of entering teaching and a break-up, I got down to 206lbs without blinking. Once again it was due to, bad eating habits (again, not eating), and stress. But it didn't take long for the scale to creep up again. Food became my reward for long days, happy moments, sad periods, and boredom. I slowly made my way to around 240lbs. 

Then in late October 2011, I was rear-ended on my way to work. Months of back, knee, shoulder, and ankle pain brought me up to at least 260lbs (I stayed away from scales for a while). I see pictures of myself at that time and wonder what happened to me? Its not that during these last few years I wasn't conscious about my weight. I had numerous gym attempts and moments of dietary health- they just never stuck. 

By the middle of 2012, I told myself that I can no longer continue to neglect myself like this- I have to take control. It started a with a few attempts to walk and jog with Black Girls Run in Prospect Park after a co-worker introduced me to the group, and some outings to the gym with another co-worker. One move to NJ later, it became planning my meals and snacks, and making attempts to go to the gym, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, drinking more water... things like that. Once I moved back to NYC in 2013, it became taking to the track to walk and jog, and joining my church's running group to exercise, and for my 29th birthday, promising myself to make this the year of putting an end to inconsistent attempts and just going for it. It's time to make my health and weight my priority. 

This week will make a month of consistently going to the gym, and so far I have an 8lb loss to show for it. In a little over a year, I'm down 25lbs. Less weight has meant less pressure on my knees, which means they rarely hurt now. Clothes that used to be too tight are starting to fit, and some things have become a little too loose. A year ago, I couldn't jog on the treadmill for more than 2 minutes without being exhausted. During the fall, I jogged for almost an hour without having to stop to walk or rest, and jog on the treadmill at least three days a week. Ten minutes on the elliptical was like murder. Now I do it for thirty minutes after my first thirty minutes of gym cardio. Even in inconsistency, there has still been a lot of progress. 

My goal this year- to be comfortably in "onderland"- to meet 30 healthier than I've been in years, and challenge myself to be disciplined in a way that I've never truly been. 

I share this publicly because quite simply, accountability doesn't happen in secret. There will be days that I don't want to exercise, times where the temptation of cravings will cloud my judgement, and discouragement will try to consume me. I'm looking to my community to help keep me in check. And so far, you have. 

So in this battle of the bulge, I plan on coming out victorious.

On Being Unemployed

My last day of work was June 26, 2013.
I packed up my classroom for the last time and said goodbye to my beloved students and colleagues. Just two days prior, I told my students that I would not be returning the next year. I myself was told just a week prior that I was being terminated. Not coming back to my school was something that wasn't a surprise to me based on the rapport between administration and myself. I had already been looking for jobs at other schools for the last two months. But not being able to teach- that was a crushing blow. My students and close colleagues didn't take the news well. Much of it was met with sadness, anger, and disbelief. For my students, they simply couldn't understand why one of their favorite teachers was no longer going to be with them. And for my close colleagues, why someone who worked so well with the students was being stripped of their license. There were hugs and tears. And in the final quiet moments of cleaning out my classroom of the last two years, the rush of feelings that come when one suffers great loss. It just didn't seem real.

Three weeks later, I received notice that my superintendent was upholding the decision of my principal (which wasn't a surprise). My next step was to prepare for my appeal which surprisingly was set for early September. Some of my students and former colleagues wrote letters on my behalf, telling the committee of the type of teacher I was, and the impact I had on them and the school. It was a long shot, but I wouldn't go down without a fight. Early October, I received the final decision in the mail- appeal denied.
Five years of teaching, four years of satisfactory service, two schools, clean personnel file, the career that I wanted from childhood- gone.

At first, the process didn't seem real. The first time I had to truly come face to face with my new reality was the beginning of August. I happened to stop at a Staples to pick up hand sanitizer, and found myself quickly fighting back tears. The excitement of a new school year and new students, obsessing over the right supplies, new classroom decorations, and spending the last days of my summer prepping for the year was no longer part of my reality. Who knew that the sight of office supplies could reduce a grown woman to tears...

I've currently been unemployed for a little over six months. The reality of being unemployed didn't really set in until the end of August, and the finality of the situation until the beginning of October. During this time, there has been tears, anger, anxiety, frustration, and depression. I've had many moments where I've questioned God numerous times- why this? Why now? Why can't things be different?... questions that top a long list of other questions. I spend my days following the same routine- combing job search engines looking for potential opportunities, constantly tweaking my resume and cover letter in the hopes that I can make it more appealing and effective, and researching organizations and companies so I can be the most prepared to send out my resume and possibly interview. It's a processes I jokingly refer to as my world domination strategy.
Job searching is a full-time, and often times draining process!

While I've had to take time to mourn the loss of what once was, this period has allowed me the time to prepare for what can be. In many respects, this time has been a blessing in disguise. I've had the courage to pursue a career move that I've dreamed of for a while. I've had the time to become involved in activities that previously would've been impossible to juggle with work. I've had the chance to reacquaint myself with some of the things that I love, like writing and music, or simply the pleasure of doing nothing. I've had the opportunity to see other sides of myself, stretch the limits of my abilities, discover new interests, meet new people, and create new dreams. I've had the space to explore who I am, what I've been through, and where I want to go. And quite honestly, I've had the time to simply rest- mind, body, and soul. Some of my students still contact me to tell me how much they miss me. It always makes me smile. 
Each day has been a journey in accepting what is, fighting for what can be, and loving self beyond the realm of job titles and worldly possessions. Each day has truly been an exercise in learning to worry less and trust Him more.

As of January 7, 2014, I'm still unemployed. But unlike a year ago, six months ago, three months ago, my outlook is different. I still have tough moments, but those are fewer and further in between. I know that my circumstances are only temporary, and I trust that God will fulfill what he has placed in my heart.

The Achiever's Apology

This New Year, I'm beginning the day with an apology.

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Recently, I've been talking with a friend about the idea of writing love notes to self. Admittedly, love notes are one of those things I love about being in love. Whether its added inside of a thoughtful card, endearingly written as a letter, or scribbled on a post-it note, I really love them. There's something that's just so beautiful about being able to read and carry the words of someone pouring out their love for you. Then again, I'm also pretty sentimental when it comes to such things.

A few days ago, I came across two cards from an old love while cleaning. I didn't read the cards specifically, but it did get me thinking about the power of love letters. When you truly love someone (and this doesn't necessarily have to be romantic love), the words have a tendency to flow quite easily. You already have a list of reasons why you appreciate and care for that person. In fact, your difficulty might not be finding words, but rather finding the right words, or not writing in abundance. Then maybe again, that's just me.

Finding these old cards got me thinking and reflecting about love letters, being in love, and self. It's been a while since I've received such a note or letter. In a recent discussions about love and self, I was challenged to write a love letter to myself. Why? Because there are times where we need to be reminded how awesome and amazing we are through one's own eyes. In a culture where we're constantly bombarded with messages of I'd be better person if my hair was longer, waist was slimmer, pockets were fuller, skin was lighter, darker or what have you, there are times where we need to stop and appreciate ourselves simply for who we are and not who we wish we could be. Yet, often times, those loving words to self are more difficult to write than those for someone else.

So Monday, I started writing, and quickly realized that before I could write a love letter, I had to apologize to myself. Why, you may be asking again? Because I've been neglectful of self. I've ignored and pushed away certain inner aspects of myself in order to chase outer goals. I'll start writing again when... I'll take better care of my health when... I'll have more time to be creative when... I'll love myself more when...

The problem with living in maybe's and when's is that you never truly live in the present, because you're too preoccupied chasing a future that is not guaranteed.

I let the achiever take precedence over the dreamer.

One is not more important than the other. They have a symbiotic relationship that I have not taken the time to truly nurture. The goal driven achiever needs the dreamer to help them see the world that exists along and beyond the periphery of their forward trajectory. The dreamer needs the achiever to center them after their flights of fancy so that they can progress onward. They need one another, and I'm quite guilty of neglecting that fact.

My next goal is to work on this love letter project, not just as a creative exercise, but as a way of life.

What do you love most about yourself? In what areas do you owe self an apology?

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My Apology (excerpt)
You remind me to rest as much as I work
to slow down and pray when my heart hurts
to savor the last bite of my favorite taste
that it's okay for life to go at my own pace
that the antidote to sad days is found in simply going outside to play
that it's okay to go and play
that sometimes you need to put off to tomorrow what you can do today
that music is my refuge so don't be afraid to sing in and out of tune
that my words are my soul song
so write as much as and often as my heart desires to
that I need silence and solitude to reflect and reconnect
to accept the fact that I am made perfectly imperfect
to know that the struggles of the past do not have to define my present or future
that I cannot live a day without humor
that the achiever cannot survive without the dreamer.
You remind me that the end is never more important than the journey.

The Road Home

12/15/13
Moments of silent solitude can be
more deafening than the sounds of
the restless city during rush hour.
To be silent is to feast in the company of
your guardian angels and inner demons.
Seated at a banquet of prized moments
and inner woes, one must face the reality
of who they claim to be is only a
distorted projection of who they really are.
No wonder we spend our days
filling the silence with selfish exploits and
mindless chatter.

--------------------

The night of my pre-birthday dinner, after having such a wonderful time in the presence of people that I love dearly, I found myself in my car not wanting to go home. It's not an unusual occurrence. I have days where I take the long way home, stop for a while at the pier or park, or sit in the car after I park and take in the silence. Sometimes it's because my occasional restless nature gets the best of me. Other times, it's because the route home is the reminder that I have to pick up my cross and continue on my uphill journey. That night, I stopped at the pier and penned three short poems. Admittedly they weren't hopeful or joyous- not reflective of the food, laughter, singing and wonderful company I was just in a short hour or two before. They were about lacking faith, false realities, and inner darkness- my darkness.

Twenty-eight was full of challenges, many unexpected life challenges, down to the very end. Honestly, I don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for those individuals sitting around me in that little Cuban restaurant that evening. They each in their own way where and are Christ in the flesh- their encouragement, support, faith, prayers, hugs, love, free meals, long conversations, fun excursions- everything. And for that, I thanked them.

Yet, my heart was still heavy.

So I stopped. I wrote. I prayed. I faced my brokenness. I reflected on my gratitude. I told Him that sometimes I doubt Him. I sat in silence. I feasted at a banquet in the company of my guardian angels and my inner demons. Then, I drove home.

The heaviness I felt the previous night was but a distant memory by the next morning.

I could've gone home, feeling heavy, and distracted myself with video streaming, social media, or insert distraction here, until I dozed off. Honestly, I can't tell you what I did when I got home. But I know I felt more at peace than if I would've stifled my feelings or brushed them off.  

So, to conclude this story: embrace silence and solitude. Face your darkness. Bare the grittiness of your pain to Him. Reflect. Show gratitude. Go to your place of self-expression and renewal. Pray. Be honest with yourself and Him. Be human.

Then, continue on the road home.

"Courage Isn't a Brilliant Dash"

I believe I was in elementary school when I came across the poem Courage, by Edgar A. Guest. Since then, when I think of the word courage, my mind goes back to the first few lines of this poem. At this season of life, I am faced with some hard issues and some hard decisions that are going to take courage to overcome. Fact is, if I don't have courage, along with faith, trust, and vision, I will not be able to make it through this time. Courage doesn't not mean the absence of fear. Instead, courage allows you to act anyway, despite your fear. There's a lot of things I'm afraid of right now. But, with courage, I can conquer them all.

Courage isn't a brilliant dash,
A daring deed in a moment's flash;
It isn't an instantaneous thing
Born of despair with a sudden spring
It isn't a creature of flickered hope
Or the final tug at a slipping rope;
But it's something deep in the soul of man
That is working always to serve some plan.

Courage isn't the last resort
In the work of life or the game of sport;
It isn't a thing that a man can call
At some future time when he's apt to fall;
If he hasn't it now, he will have it not
When the strain is great and the pace is hot.
For who would strive for a distant goal
Must always have courage within his soul.

Courage isn't a dazzling light
That flashes and passes away from sight;
It's a slow, unwavering, ingrained trait
With the patience to work and the strength to wait.
It's part of a man when his skies are blue,
It's part of him when he has work to do.
The brave man never is freed of it.
He has it when there is no need of it.

Courage was never designed for show;
It isn't a thing that can come and go;
It's written in victory and defeat
And every trial a man may meet.
It's part of his hours, his days and his years,
Back of his smiles and behind his tears.
Courage is more than a daring deed:
It's the breath of life and a strong man's creed.

It's okay to be sad.

Really, it's okay to be sad.

It's taken me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I'm sensitive, emotional- a feeler. It's something that I've hated because I considered emotions, particularly negative emotions, to be a sign of weakness. Growing up, I desperately tried to bottle up my emotions- tuck away feelings of sadness and loneliness, loss and depression, in the hopes that they'd magically dissipate into the abyss, leaving me only with joy and happiness. I didn't know how to face the internal conflict of unmet expectations and life's disappointments. Of course, emotions don't go away until you deal with them. They grow and fester until they bubble over, creating a destructive situation for all involved. That right there sums up my adolescent years.

As I've gotten older, I've learned to recognize my emotions and try to handle them accordingly. Yet, I still struggle with actually being okay with and accepting of them. Now if you're wondering the difference between recognition/admittance and acceptance, there's the best way I can explain it:

Recognition- I see and admit that I'm feeling [insert negative emotion here]. Let me do something to quickly change it because I don't like this feeling.
 vs.
Acceptance- I'm feeling [insert negative emotion here]. Though I don't like it, I have to take the time to deal with it and go through the process.

Though recognition was much better than my ignoring of emotions past, it's still not 100% healthy because I still wasn't fully allowing myself to process through the emotion because I still wanted to avoid the internal conflict of the feelings themselves. So instead, I'd recognize the feelings and spend more of my time distracting myself from it and trying to replace them with happy thoughts than actually processing through everything.

Old habits die hard...

Fast forward to today as someone who is trying to process through the loss of my career and everything that surrounds it. It's hard, very hard. I spend my time shifting between good and bad days and momentary feelings of hope and despair. Life as I knew it has changed, and I have to accept and mourn the loss of that, as well as embrace the new unknown adventure that lies ahead. Where there is faith, there is fear. And where there is so much uncertainty, there is anxiety and sadness.

Monday will make the first time in about 24 years that I'm not preparing to go back to school. It's an extremely difficult reality to confront. I miss the comfort and stability of my life, and the possibilities that were available to me because of it. And now, I have to close that chapter and write a new story.

It's okay to be sad.

The last few days have been hard days, with more difficult days to come. As I prepare for the last battle in this fight for my license this week and what the next steps in my life will be, I can't help but feel a myriad of emotions as I try to process through some very tough life questions and present realities. I know that God's will will be done, and that everything will work in accordance to how its supposed to. In that respect, my worry is lessened because I know that God is with me. But it doesn't mean that the sadness I feel is any less.

In trying to handle emotions differently, I have to keep reminding myself that it's okay to be sad, angry, frustrated, worried... I have to go through the process. I just can't wallow there forever. So for now, I'm learning to embrace the sadness, and pray for better days in the future.

Millennial's and the Church- a brief response.

Maybe about 2 weeks ago, the article "How to keep Millennial's in the Church?" started popping up on my newsfeed. It was a good read especially in light of the many conversations I've been having over the last few years about my views of the Church. If you're wondering what this means, millennial's and the Church, let me give you a brief overview. It's basically how the church is dealing with the youth of the church who have been born between the 1980s and 2000, which raises the question of how does the Church appeal to or handle the pre-teens to young adults?  On our church discussion board, my pastor asked us to open up a dialog on this article. I will write more at a later time some of my views on different aspects of the Church, but I think this will give you a bit of an idea.
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Whatever happened to the Church just being Church- a place where people can come to meet Jesus. A place that transforms lives, and cultivates rich, deep community. A place that feeds the poor, welcomes the stranger, protects the widow. And among many other things, a place that is actually cross eyed. Instead, so many churches have become (or strive to be) houses that boast of the thousands of "members" that warm pews on Sunday mornings. Pastors, reverends, evangelists, psalmists, prophets, (insert title here), have taken the Word of God to create self-serving businesses, I mean ministries, that generate millions though cool pop culture gimmicks, preaching prosperity over purpose, and playing on the glitz and glamor, feel-good needs of a generation. So many have turned the richness of the Bible to watered-down feel good messages that attract the masses, but lack the transformative substance of the Gospel itself. Sure, bread is filling, but what is its longstanding nutritional value?
Lest we forget that Jesus only started with 12...

As someone who falls in this millennial category, what keeps me in Church is the desire to connect to something real- substantive Word that transforms and gives me the tools to navigate this life, rich loving community that in essence serves as a second family, areas that I can connect, serve, grow, and explore my gifts and talents, and a community that works to live the message of the gospel to the world around them. I think to ignore the needs and desires of the millennial generation would be to isolate them and ignore the fact that society has changed over time. The church needs to be sensitive to that. But, the same goes for every generation in the church. With that said, the church cannot be a ship tossed at sea, left to the winds of whatever fad blows through, but rather an anchor that can withstand the fickleness of human nature and keep its people Christ-centered.