YOLO- aka the most overused and joked about phrase of 2013. I now use it ironically; turning left at an intersection? "YOLO!" Eating ice cream right after working out? "YOLO!" You get the idea.
You only live once.
Now, as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I know that I don't just live once (unless you count all of eternity as "once", in which case sure, I guess it applies). We know there is life after this mortal existence. Our Savior has made it so. However, that doesn't mean that we shouldn't live our mortal life to its fullest.
A few weeks ago, I was talking to a woman at work and she was lamenting about her broken body, about how she has this list of all of these things that she wished she could do but will never accomplish. Her age and the deconditioned state of her body makes it impossible for her to enjoy even a simple bike ride. To paraphrase her words, "I have always wanted to skydive, to white water raft, to hike the highest mountains I could find. I should have done all of those things while I still could, when I was young and healthy and had the energy. Now, it is physically impossible for me to do any of those things."
This really made me stop and think. How many of us go through life constantly saying "one day"? One day I'll take that trip to Paris. One day I'll raft the Colorado River. One day I'll be in good enough shape to run a half marathon. One day I'll learn the piano. One day I'll volunteer on a regular basis. One day...one day... Well you know what I say to that? YOLO.
Seriously though, think about it. Many of these goals that I mentioned are completely doable, even while raising a family or working a full time job. They just take more planning. I say let's stop dreaming and start doing. What stops us from fulfilling our dreams? Fear? Lack of money or time? Too many commitments? It's something to think about.
The fact that I have always wanted to live in Montana and that I therefore stepped and made it happen makes me even more excited about this topic. I could have easily taken the easy route of staying in Arizona and simply worked and kept doing the same things I had been doing forever. But when the opportunity came for me to pack everything up and move to Montana, I almost didn't even have to think about it before I knew it was going to happen. It was like the dream that I had always wanted to fulfill just kind of clicked into place, and I knew if I didn't do it now, when would I?
I realize I have made it easier on myself to chase my dreams- I am about as single as they come, with no other responsibilities except work and paying bills. I don't have to take care of any children, cook and clean for a household, or fit into anyone else's schedule. I know its a luxury, which is why I am living it up while I can.
The majority of my friends are married, and I am in NO WAY talking down to those who are married or saying my life is better than theirs. Our lives are completely different, but on the same plane, neither one being better or worse. I am just trying to say that please, please don't let your lives get so busy that you let the years pass by without doing the things that you have always dreamed of doing. That is one of my biggest fears in life, is not taking opportunities when they come my way. Start saving up, start planning, whatever it takes. Make it happen. Don't be like the woman at my work who looks back on her life full of regret and wishing. Even though she will have a perfect body and will be able to experience those things in the next life, why wait? This mortal existence is an experience that I like to think is made up of a million little experiences.
Don't just go through life simply existing. Make it about the experience.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Healthy.
Today in Relief Society, we had a lesson on goals. You know, "new year, new you" type of deal.
When the teacher asked what is usually the top resolution for people, about half of the women all responded at once, "lose weight!"
I frowned to myself. Why is this always a goal for women every year? Even women who are well into their 60's and 70's have this goal of losing 20 pounds or fitting into a smaller pair of jeans and all I can think is, why is this always number one on our list?
I believe that instead of having a goal to lose weight, we should have a goal of being healthy. Let me explain the difference.
I didn't think I would share this because of it's kind of personal, but I think it will help people understand why the goal of "losing weight" is so bothersome to me.
I used to have a very low self esteem when it comes to my body, and only until very recently was I still obsessing over it. I had always thought of myself as the fat friend, fat daughter, fat sister, fat everything. I would look at what the bloggers and instagrammers call "fitspo" and even worse, "thinspo", basically pictures of impossibly fit and skinny girls with the caption "perfect" and "can I be her?" and "that thigh gap!" These pictures fed into my obsession over my hatred of my body. I fed into Satan's lies that I would never be good enough for anyone until my body was perfect.
It's such a disgusting and degrading train of thought, and no doubt these thoughts were perpetuated by Satan and his lies. He knows exactly where to hurt us the most, and he knew that I had suffered from low self esteem my entire life.
This past May, I had my first of two foot surgeries. I was sidelined from running for the foreseeable future, and I ate more food out of frustration that I couldn't run anymore. I gained some weight, not more than 10 pounds but on my frame it was enough to make me hate myself more than I ever had. I began to try fasting for a day or two at a time, no doubt egged on by the bloggers on tumblr who bragged about fasting for 50 hours or 4 days or an entire week! After each fast, I would inevitably binge on whatever there was in the fridge, and as I didn't have the willpower or skill to throw it all up, I would feel even worse about myself. Which would make me fast again. This cycle went on for weeks.
I dreaded family vacation in California because I knew I would be so self-conscious the entire time. I just knew that I would wish I didn't have to wear a swimsuit or expose my fat legs or have to suck in my fat stomach all day. I almost didn't want any pictures taken of me because I knew I would look so fat and they would get posted anyway. I spent every night in California looking at thinspo on my phone and wishing, oh wishing that I could have a smaller butt, a flat stomach, and thigh gap. Whenever I saw another woman, the first thing I noticed was whether she had a better body than me, and it would always inevitably lead to self-loathing whenever I was around women skinnier than me. It made life fairly miserable, and socializing was even worse. I became convinced that the reason I couldn't keep a boyfriend or go on many dates is because I was fat.
Throughout the entire summer, I alternated between fasting and drinking only green tea and eating whatever I could get my hands on, all while spiraling downward into self hate and pity. I texted a friend one day, who I knew suffered from the same awful condition that I did, about what she does when the self-hate is so consuming and feels overwhelming. Thank goodness for her example, and I am grateful for her every day. She ended up writing me a beautiful letter, complete with her favorite scriptures for comfort and healing, and some healthy snacks. It helped, for a couple days at least. I was grateful for her understanding and compassion, but I was too self-absorbed to really take her advice to heart.
The day when I knew I had to stop this dangerous cycle, the day I basically hit rock bottom, was one Sunday in late July. I had fasted since Friday night, all through Saturday, and was still going strong until church. That day, I was performing a violin part with a vocal solo, and it was my favorite song and one I had practiced for a long time. I was feeling slightly light-headed and clammy as I led the music for the opening and sacrament hymns, but I wasn't alarmed. It wasn't until I stood up and walked to front of the stand with my violin, ready to play the musical number, that I felt really ill. My vision was black at the edges, I was very dizzy, I could barely hear the piano and vocalist, and I could barely play the music. I made it through the musical number, but not without messing up in places I had memorized before and I couldn't make it through at all without leaning against the barrier/wall on the front of the stand. I feared I would pass out before the song was over.
I ended up leaving church early that day, claiming that I was sick. Yes, I was sick. Sick in the head, mostly. I went home, fell asleep, and still managed to not eat anything that day, continuing to claim that I was sick. I still ended up having a game night that night. So many people at my house! My hearing was going fuzzy, I couldn't concentrate on anything anyone was saying, and I had to sit down nearly the whole time. At the end, when nearly everyone had gone home, I finally ate some food. A piece of string cheese. I knew that I had made a very poor choice that weekend, and I knew that I definitely did not like the feeling of starving myself. I just couldn't do it anymore.
I think that's why I was able to turn it around so quickly. I wasn't so far gone that I had grown to fear food, had grown to love the feeling of being starved, as some people with eating disorders and similar disorders do. It wasn't like that. The common theme of people with eating disorders is that they lack control in every aspect of their life, except food. They can control food to their hearts content. They enjoy the feeling of triumph they get when they feel light-headed from lack of food, when they see the weight loss on the scale, when they can count the number of calories they consumed during the day on one hand.
That was the last time I ever fasted on a day other than Fast Sunday. I thankfully could recognize that I couldn't continue in this way because it was becoming harmful to my mental well-being. I did some research on eating disorders and found that I had some of the symptoms, but not enough to fit into the category of anorexia or bulimia.. This is what they call EDNOS- Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified. The research I did was enough for me to realize that I am better than this. I do not need to starve myself to get skinny! Being healthy is SO much more than being skinny. With the help of Christ's Atonement, a close friend's help, scripture study, prayer for strength and healing, I have been able to get past it. I am not completely over it, to be sure. There are bad days, but the good days VASTLY outnumber the bad days, and that's how I know I'm better.
And this takes us back to the beginning of my post. It bothers me that every woman has the goal of losing weight. Can we change that goal to "becoming more healthy" instead? Instead of saying "I want to lose 20 pounds" how about we say "I was to be able to walk a mile or two every day" or "I want to be able to go up the stairs without getting winded" or "I want to drop my cholesterol level". These are measures of health. You could be 175 pounds and be able to run a half marathon, whereas a 115 pound girl could barely run a mile. And that can go either way, obviously. Weight does not equal health.
I am not, however, talking about obesity. Obesity is obviously dangerous and that definitely warrants an exercise program and a healthy diet change. What I am talking about is the average woman, size 8 or 12 or whatever (basically me, size 10 through and through!) who wishes to lose 20 pounds because the media has instilled in her mind that in order to be beautiful, she needs to be a size 2. I call bullshit.
I am working towards being the healthiest I have ever been in my life, and I have some lofty goals for 2014. However, those goals to not include the number "130" or anything related to pounds. If I make the goal to simply eat healthy (working on it), love my body (I'm getting there! It's a daily struggle), and run as many races as I can (already signed up for a half marathon this year!) then the weight becomes something I don't need to worry about. The main thing for me is to be at a healthy weight for my body, to love my body shape, and to figure out ways to always challenge myself to become better.
The end of story is, being healthy, strong, and fit is SO much more important than being the skinniest you have ever been. They can go hand in hand, of course. If you start exercising more and eating more healthy, sure the weight will come off. But don't make that your priority. It can be so damaging and you can begin to be completely obsessed by that stupid little number on the scale.
Being fit can mean different things to everyone. It could mean being able to keep up with your grandchildren. It could mean running your first marathon. It could mean going on short hikes with your loved ones without being left behind. It could mean going for a bike ride with your spouse. It could mean simply moving around more throughout the day.
I just hope that was we make our New Year's Resolutions this year, we focus less on the numbers and more on our quality of life and our health.
When the teacher asked what is usually the top resolution for people, about half of the women all responded at once, "lose weight!"
I frowned to myself. Why is this always a goal for women every year? Even women who are well into their 60's and 70's have this goal of losing 20 pounds or fitting into a smaller pair of jeans and all I can think is, why is this always number one on our list?
I believe that instead of having a goal to lose weight, we should have a goal of being healthy. Let me explain the difference.
I didn't think I would share this because of it's kind of personal, but I think it will help people understand why the goal of "losing weight" is so bothersome to me.
I used to have a very low self esteem when it comes to my body, and only until very recently was I still obsessing over it. I had always thought of myself as the fat friend, fat daughter, fat sister, fat everything. I would look at what the bloggers and instagrammers call "fitspo" and even worse, "thinspo", basically pictures of impossibly fit and skinny girls with the caption "perfect" and "can I be her?" and "that thigh gap!" These pictures fed into my obsession over my hatred of my body. I fed into Satan's lies that I would never be good enough for anyone until my body was perfect.
It's such a disgusting and degrading train of thought, and no doubt these thoughts were perpetuated by Satan and his lies. He knows exactly where to hurt us the most, and he knew that I had suffered from low self esteem my entire life.
This past May, I had my first of two foot surgeries. I was sidelined from running for the foreseeable future, and I ate more food out of frustration that I couldn't run anymore. I gained some weight, not more than 10 pounds but on my frame it was enough to make me hate myself more than I ever had. I began to try fasting for a day or two at a time, no doubt egged on by the bloggers on tumblr who bragged about fasting for 50 hours or 4 days or an entire week! After each fast, I would inevitably binge on whatever there was in the fridge, and as I didn't have the willpower or skill to throw it all up, I would feel even worse about myself. Which would make me fast again. This cycle went on for weeks.
I dreaded family vacation in California because I knew I would be so self-conscious the entire time. I just knew that I would wish I didn't have to wear a swimsuit or expose my fat legs or have to suck in my fat stomach all day. I almost didn't want any pictures taken of me because I knew I would look so fat and they would get posted anyway. I spent every night in California looking at thinspo on my phone and wishing, oh wishing that I could have a smaller butt, a flat stomach, and thigh gap. Whenever I saw another woman, the first thing I noticed was whether she had a better body than me, and it would always inevitably lead to self-loathing whenever I was around women skinnier than me. It made life fairly miserable, and socializing was even worse. I became convinced that the reason I couldn't keep a boyfriend or go on many dates is because I was fat.
Throughout the entire summer, I alternated between fasting and drinking only green tea and eating whatever I could get my hands on, all while spiraling downward into self hate and pity. I texted a friend one day, who I knew suffered from the same awful condition that I did, about what she does when the self-hate is so consuming and feels overwhelming. Thank goodness for her example, and I am grateful for her every day. She ended up writing me a beautiful letter, complete with her favorite scriptures for comfort and healing, and some healthy snacks. It helped, for a couple days at least. I was grateful for her understanding and compassion, but I was too self-absorbed to really take her advice to heart.
The day when I knew I had to stop this dangerous cycle, the day I basically hit rock bottom, was one Sunday in late July. I had fasted since Friday night, all through Saturday, and was still going strong until church. That day, I was performing a violin part with a vocal solo, and it was my favorite song and one I had practiced for a long time. I was feeling slightly light-headed and clammy as I led the music for the opening and sacrament hymns, but I wasn't alarmed. It wasn't until I stood up and walked to front of the stand with my violin, ready to play the musical number, that I felt really ill. My vision was black at the edges, I was very dizzy, I could barely hear the piano and vocalist, and I could barely play the music. I made it through the musical number, but not without messing up in places I had memorized before and I couldn't make it through at all without leaning against the barrier/wall on the front of the stand. I feared I would pass out before the song was over.
I ended up leaving church early that day, claiming that I was sick. Yes, I was sick. Sick in the head, mostly. I went home, fell asleep, and still managed to not eat anything that day, continuing to claim that I was sick. I still ended up having a game night that night. So many people at my house! My hearing was going fuzzy, I couldn't concentrate on anything anyone was saying, and I had to sit down nearly the whole time. At the end, when nearly everyone had gone home, I finally ate some food. A piece of string cheese. I knew that I had made a very poor choice that weekend, and I knew that I definitely did not like the feeling of starving myself. I just couldn't do it anymore.
I think that's why I was able to turn it around so quickly. I wasn't so far gone that I had grown to fear food, had grown to love the feeling of being starved, as some people with eating disorders and similar disorders do. It wasn't like that. The common theme of people with eating disorders is that they lack control in every aspect of their life, except food. They can control food to their hearts content. They enjoy the feeling of triumph they get when they feel light-headed from lack of food, when they see the weight loss on the scale, when they can count the number of calories they consumed during the day on one hand.
That was the last time I ever fasted on a day other than Fast Sunday. I thankfully could recognize that I couldn't continue in this way because it was becoming harmful to my mental well-being. I did some research on eating disorders and found that I had some of the symptoms, but not enough to fit into the category of anorexia or bulimia.. This is what they call EDNOS- Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified. The research I did was enough for me to realize that I am better than this. I do not need to starve myself to get skinny! Being healthy is SO much more than being skinny. With the help of Christ's Atonement, a close friend's help, scripture study, prayer for strength and healing, I have been able to get past it. I am not completely over it, to be sure. There are bad days, but the good days VASTLY outnumber the bad days, and that's how I know I'm better.
And this takes us back to the beginning of my post. It bothers me that every woman has the goal of losing weight. Can we change that goal to "becoming more healthy" instead? Instead of saying "I want to lose 20 pounds" how about we say "I was to be able to walk a mile or two every day" or "I want to be able to go up the stairs without getting winded" or "I want to drop my cholesterol level". These are measures of health. You could be 175 pounds and be able to run a half marathon, whereas a 115 pound girl could barely run a mile. And that can go either way, obviously. Weight does not equal health.
I am not, however, talking about obesity. Obesity is obviously dangerous and that definitely warrants an exercise program and a healthy diet change. What I am talking about is the average woman, size 8 or 12 or whatever (basically me, size 10 through and through!) who wishes to lose 20 pounds because the media has instilled in her mind that in order to be beautiful, she needs to be a size 2. I call bullshit.
I am working towards being the healthiest I have ever been in my life, and I have some lofty goals for 2014. However, those goals to not include the number "130" or anything related to pounds. If I make the goal to simply eat healthy (working on it), love my body (I'm getting there! It's a daily struggle), and run as many races as I can (already signed up for a half marathon this year!) then the weight becomes something I don't need to worry about. The main thing for me is to be at a healthy weight for my body, to love my body shape, and to figure out ways to always challenge myself to become better.
The end of story is, being healthy, strong, and fit is SO much more important than being the skinniest you have ever been. They can go hand in hand, of course. If you start exercising more and eating more healthy, sure the weight will come off. But don't make that your priority. It can be so damaging and you can begin to be completely obsessed by that stupid little number on the scale.
Being fit can mean different things to everyone. It could mean being able to keep up with your grandchildren. It could mean running your first marathon. It could mean going on short hikes with your loved ones without being left behind. It could mean going for a bike ride with your spouse. It could mean simply moving around more throughout the day.
I just hope that was we make our New Year's Resolutions this year, we focus less on the numbers and more on our quality of life and our health.
Friday, January 3, 2014
How much is that avocado in the window?
Scene: Super 1 Foods in Stevensville, Montana.
There's me, grocery shopping after a long day at work because I have zero food in my cupboard after being away for 10 days for Christmas (which was awesome, btw).
I'm looking at avocados, trying to decide whether it is worth the 98 cents each. A short, black-haired lady is talking loudly next to the apples as she explains to someone nearby the best way to pick out apples. I'm not entirely sure if she works there or is just extremely nosy. She then points at the avocados (and at me, I guess) and says loudly "I am the expert on avocados, you know, because I am Hispanic."
Huh.
She then walks over, nearly shoving me out of the way as I am pondering which avocados I want to adopt, and starts picking up each one in turn and explaining to this other person (another stranger? a friend? I have no idea!) what is wrong with it.
"Too hard, not ripe."
"Too soft, too ripe."
"Too green, not good."
"See how it has a dent in it? Rotten."
Now, I am not afraid to speak up when I have something to say to a stranger. All I wanted to do was give the poor shopper some friendly advice that has worked for me many, many times in the past.
"You know," I say politely, "I always buy the avocados that are hard, place them in a paper bag overnight, and the next day they are perfectly ripe! It's like magic!"
The "Hispanic" woman turns at me so swiftly, and gives me a look so bitchy, that I am completely taken aback.
"That's a myth," she says shortly.
"Um, actually it's not," I say, borderline speechless, "I've been doing it for years. Works every time."
"No, it's a myth. I'm Hispanic, I would know."
I am not a confrontational person. I would rather let someone have their way than argue with them because first of all, I would hate to make a scene, and second of all, there are very few things worth arguing about. I simply say,
"Okay, then."
and walk away. On the outside, I am cool and collected.
On the inside, not so much.
"LISTEN, BITCH. JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE HISPANIC DOES NOT GIVE YOU A MONOPOLY ON AVOCADO KNOWLEDGE. I DON'T APPRECIATE BEING CALLED A LIAR, AND I AM FAIRLY CERTAIN I DID NOT MAKE UP THE PAPER BAG TRICK BECAUSE I KNOW FOR A FACT I SAW IT ON PINTEREST. IF I WASN'T IN A GROCERY STORE RIGHT NOW I WOULD HAVE CHEWED OUT YOUR HISPANIC ASS FASTER THAN YOU COULD SAY "YO QUIERO AVOCADO".
But like I said, I am not a confrontational person.
Also, I'm totally serious about the paper bag thing.
There's me, grocery shopping after a long day at work because I have zero food in my cupboard after being away for 10 days for Christmas (which was awesome, btw).
I'm looking at avocados, trying to decide whether it is worth the 98 cents each. A short, black-haired lady is talking loudly next to the apples as she explains to someone nearby the best way to pick out apples. I'm not entirely sure if she works there or is just extremely nosy. She then points at the avocados (and at me, I guess) and says loudly "I am the expert on avocados, you know, because I am Hispanic."
Huh.
She then walks over, nearly shoving me out of the way as I am pondering which avocados I want to adopt, and starts picking up each one in turn and explaining to this other person (another stranger? a friend? I have no idea!) what is wrong with it.
"Too hard, not ripe."
"Too soft, too ripe."
"Too green, not good."
"See how it has a dent in it? Rotten."
Now, I am not afraid to speak up when I have something to say to a stranger. All I wanted to do was give the poor shopper some friendly advice that has worked for me many, many times in the past.
"You know," I say politely, "I always buy the avocados that are hard, place them in a paper bag overnight, and the next day they are perfectly ripe! It's like magic!"
The "Hispanic" woman turns at me so swiftly, and gives me a look so bitchy, that I am completely taken aback.
"That's a myth," she says shortly.
"Um, actually it's not," I say, borderline speechless, "I've been doing it for years. Works every time."
"No, it's a myth. I'm Hispanic, I would know."
I am not a confrontational person. I would rather let someone have their way than argue with them because first of all, I would hate to make a scene, and second of all, there are very few things worth arguing about. I simply say,
"Okay, then."
and walk away. On the outside, I am cool and collected.
On the inside, not so much.
"LISTEN, BITCH. JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE HISPANIC DOES NOT GIVE YOU A MONOPOLY ON AVOCADO KNOWLEDGE. I DON'T APPRECIATE BEING CALLED A LIAR, AND I AM FAIRLY CERTAIN I DID NOT MAKE UP THE PAPER BAG TRICK BECAUSE I KNOW FOR A FACT I SAW IT ON PINTEREST. IF I WASN'T IN A GROCERY STORE RIGHT NOW I WOULD HAVE CHEWED OUT YOUR HISPANIC ASS FASTER THAN YOU COULD SAY "YO QUIERO AVOCADO".
But like I said, I am not a confrontational person.
Also, I'm totally serious about the paper bag thing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)