Reshuffling the Hand We're Dealt

There's someone in my life that I care very much about who has been perpertually miserable for quite some time now. For the sake of anonymity, we'll call her "Daisy." 

Granted, Daisy hasn't had the easiest of lives, she certainly doesn't have the worst life possible- not even close. She may beg to differ as she's been so immersed in her own negative energy for so long that the half-filled portion of her glass may as well be invisible to her. She believes that the only way her life will be better is if the people and situations that surround her change. 

See the problem? 

It's what I always say: Change your perspective, change your experience, change your life. 

There's only so long we should be allowed to indulge ourselves in self-pity. We can keep our faces long and cry about the cards we've been dealt, but after a while that song gets old and tired. After a certain amount of time, it becomes a matter of personal responsibility to take the situation in our own hands and reshuffle the deck, instead of perpetually staring at the crappy hand. 

The Serenity Prayer comes to mind...

"...grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference..."

There are things we have no control over and sometimes that's unfortunate. Daisy can't change the fact that her family members deal with addiction. She can't magically double her income to alleviate her financial woes. She can't take away her parents' pains associated with old age. 

But, she can change her attitude. She can change how she sees things. She can shift her focus on to what she does have to be grateful for, like a home, a steady job that challenges her ample abilities and family that loves her regardless of her grumpiness, instead of honing in on what's not so perfect. She can stop scoffing at me when I suggest she try these things and realize there is no harm in trying something new that would only do her a world of good. 

Today is actually Daisy's birthday. I gave her a hug, wishing her a good day, and she coldly responded to my open arms with what could hardly pass as a hug. She said, "thanks," as if we were passing strangers. 

Later in the day, I got a call from Daisy's family member ooking for gift suggestions, asking if I knew of anything Daisy needed. 

And all I could think of was...

A smile. 

Why Chicken Soup is So Good for You

There's no doubt that certain foods are more emotionally charged than others. The tastes, smells, textures bring back memories and conjure up feelings specific to when you had that dish for the first time. Even though "cozy" is not a spice in the cupboard, certain meals definitely have an extra dash of coziness in them. 

Mama's chicken soup. 

As I finished off a big bowl for lunch, I thought, "What is it that makes this soup so darn amazing??" 

Sure, the nutritionist in me thinks of all the nutrient dense vegetables and healing properties of the bone broth. Mom even throws in whole knobs of ginseng for an added stress-busting boost.

But, there's something more to this magical soup that just makes me feel oh-so-wonderful. 

Putting my nutritionist hat aside, I begin to realize why "Mom's chicken soup" is always the go-to comfort food for so many people. Yes, we can discuss the benefits of the added fluids, sodium, vitamins, protein, blah blah blah, but I think it would be doing the great soups of moms everywhere a great disservice if we overlook the most healing ingredient of them all: LOVE

::Roll eyes, scoff, "yeah, yeah, yeah"::

Ok, maybe this is a bit on the crunchy-holistic side, but hear me out!

When the weather is cold and rainy or if I'm just not quite feeling physically up to par, chicken soup off the supermarket shelf just won't do the trick. Something about the processed, uniform bits floating in a tin can doesn't make me feel like eating it will make me feel any better. 

But, sit me down in front of a steamy serving of the day-long, homemade, rustic stuff and relief is only a spoonful away! 

The difference, here, is knowing Mom had been in the kitchen chopping the vegetables, trimming the chicken, layering the flavors and tending to the pot. The amount of detail that goes in to even the simplest of soups is bolstered by the sentiment that time was put in to peeling every carrot, slicing each celery stalk and tasting every step of the way to ensure it comes out just-so. That is the love I was referring to. That is the love that completes every bowl. 

Yes, it is important to eat whole foods that are nutrient dense, take a multivitamin, etc and so on, but there are more things that feed us other than food, itself. The magical ability for Mom's Chicken Soup to lift my spirits and give me a hug from the inside is proof that food is not the only place we seek nourishment. 

Happy eating!

To be Safe... and Heard

Feeling protected from danger or harm is something important in life- otherwise, we'd live our lives in constant fear of being robbed or injured at any waking moment.

It's a known fact: "Safety" is a necessity for happy living. 

But, knowing we are safe from physical danger, though important, is not enough. What we also need, that is highly overlooked and under-appreciated, is a safe space to just... talk. 

No, I don't mean finding some secret hideaway on a private island where you share deep dark secrets with a friend at (although, that would be pretty cool!). 

I'm talking about having someone in our lives that we feel we can talk to openly, candidly, honestly and freely without being judged. 

It may sound silly. Everyone has friends and family, right? 

It is possible to have several friends, many acquaintances and a huge family... but, not feel safe enough to open up to any of them. Chalk it up to a personal inability to trust another person or being shot down before when we did allow ourselves to be vulnerable, sometimes we can have so many people in our lives.... but, still feel lonely. 

So, what happens when these things we want to talk about... insecurities, personal problems, conflicting thoughts... have no outlet from our minds?

They build up. And they grow. And they fester. And the negative energy recycles through the body. And they seep outwards as negativity and stress. And then, eventually, you crack under the built up pressure and you find yourself depressed, angry, and on a psychiatrist's couch, walking out with a new prescription for a pill that's supposed to fix it all. 

Many times we find ourselves afraid that the response to our words will leave us ridiculed, lectured, punished... anything but heard, which is all we really need in the first place. 

I'm going to cut myself short here, because I could go on for a while on this subject because it's something I'm passionate about, which is why I incorporate in to my health coaching practice in a big way. 

Bottom line, here, is that some people have a close group of friends that they feel safe talking to. Others have just one or two. Some are fortunate enough to even have these people as family members! To those that do have these people in your lives, I hope you understand how valuable they are. 

Disarming Negative Emotions

When I coach clients, I teach them not to fear cravings because they are signals from the body.

Emotions are messages coming either internally from our bodies or externally from our lives. They arise for us to experience, assess and decode them, if we so choose to. Otherwise, they come and go, at times bringing us on a roller coaster of ups and downs. 

Uncomfortable emotions are the scariest to deal with. To fear or try suppress them is to give them power. If we take the time to understand these emotions, we can disarm them of any power they have taken on and actually come out with a valuable bit of insight. 

It's like finding the diamond hidden under the coal- we just need to chip away at the dark exterior. 

For example...

Jealousy, commonly perceived as a negative emotion, is wrought with insecurity, anxiety and fear. Seeing someone happier than yourself, a colleague being promoted to a higher-paying position, a significant other talking highly about someone other than yourself... All these things spur an ugly, uncomfortable feeling of wanting what someone else has. 

But is it a bad thing?

Let's find the diamond underneath. 

Jealousy is an indicator of a deep desire we have for something that will potential make us happy. 

So, you're thinking, "Well, that was kind of obvious. But, I still want something I don't have." 

Here's the beauty in it though- now that you know there is something that you want, you can start taking steps towards having it, yourself. 

Jealous of your coworker's promotion? Ask yourself- what is it that is making you feel this way? Do you feel like you want to move up at work? Do you envy your peer's drive to reach higher levels? Or is it the recognition that comes along with the promotion that you want for yourself?

Regardless of what is really going on underneath the surface, figuring out the answer to the question "what is it that I am really jealous of?" will guide you towards the steps you must take towards being happier and more satisfied with what you have and where you are. 

Then there's the whole issue of being content with exactly what you have. But, that's for another day. 

The message here is that a positive spin can even be placed on perceived negative emotions.

As long as happiness and positivity are always the main focal point, there is always a way to find meaning, purpose and a reason to smile in anything. 

Even when you're green with envy.

Feeling Fat?

How are you feeling? 

"I feel angry."

"I feel sad." 

"I feel happy." 

"I feel scared"

... All valid answers to the question at hand.

"I feel fat."

...Not so much. 

FAT IS NOT A FEELING. 

Feelings describe our state of emotion, not our state of appearance, and even if they did, I'd reason to say that bodily mass surely didn't develop overnight to suddenly create exacerbated sense of "fatness." 

It makes just as much sense to say "I feel fat" as it does to say "I feel purple." 

There's something more being said in this "feeling fat" statement- a lowered sense of self-esteem, a heightened self-consciousnesses, a harsher self-judgment... "feeling fat" definitely has an all around negative connotation. 

My main concern when I hear this statement, however, is not the identifying of oneself with this negative feeling, but more so identifying of oneself by a physical attribute (or perception of one). 

We are more than out appearance. 

Who we are is a compilation of our talents and hobbies, our likes and dislikes, the impact we make on others and the world- the way we look is, by definition, a superficial way to identify ourselves. 

Looks are fleeting; so much so that they can be changed through diet and exercise, plastic surgery and makeup. 

Personality and who we are at our core is everlasting. 

No amount of lipstick or designer clothing can beautify a bad attitude. 

Similarly, no amount of extra body weight or bad hair days can keep a bright, positive disposition from shining through. 

The next time we hear ourselves say we feel fat, let's dig deeper and find out what's really going on... What are we missing? What message are we really trying to get across? 

When I hear "I feel fat," accompanied by sad eyes and a wounded whimper, I know what I'm really hearing is more akin to, "I am feeling down on myself and could really use a hug." 

Of course, there are days when "feeling fat" can be accredited to overdoing sugar and salt intake the day before and the body physically retains more water... but, that's what elastic waist pants and flowy tops were made for. 

Stop Feeling Guilty About Food!

We are our own worst critics. 

We tell ourselves we are bad and hold on to that badness, unwilling to forgive ourselves. 

We feel guilty for not always doing the right things or not treating others as we should. 

OK, I understand feeling bad for wronging someone. 

Or taking a toy from a baby. 

Or tripping a stranger and running away. 

But, for eating a cookie??

Please, we have enough to criticize ourselves for. 

Who's the jerk that vindicated the eating of delicious foods like a big juicy cheeseburger or a hot fudge sundae with all the fixings? I'd like to have a word or two with this person. Clearly, said person gets off on sucking joy out of life. 

Associating "badness" with foods is a wasted, negative-energy filled effort.

There is nothing innately angelic about sitting down to a slice of fruit as opposed to a slice of cake. The only thing that happens when we label certain foods as "good" or "bad" is that we label ourselves as "good" or "bad" for eating them. 

This goes hand in hand with being on a diet (I shudder at the word, itself) that has restrictions that define what is and isn't allowed. The dieter is then subject to many opportunities to cheat if the diet isn't followed, thus feeling the resulting guilt from eating the bad items. 

So much negativity!

I ate a french fry the other day. I do not think myself to be a bad person. 

We are responsible for how we treat our bodies. The hope is that we choose foods that support optimal health while also allowing ourselves to have foods that have little nutritional value, but great enjoyment value. 

We live in a world where these nutritionally-devoid, pure enjoyment-value foods exist. 

Instead of barring ourselves from them and creating feelings of guilt when we succumb to their allure, why not just accept their deliciousness and learn to coexist with them? 

Step one is to remove labels of "goodness" or "badness" from foods.  

Step two is to honor our health by feeding it the wholesome nutrition it needs. 

Step three is to be gentle with ourselves and allow ourselves the wiggle room to enjoy those "other" foods for the pure sake of enjoying them. 

We have enough to combat in this world. Let's leave the negative energy to the wars, crimes and offenses. 

Not food. 

Food is too delicious for all that negativity. 

Happy eating! 

A Reason To Be Happy

He's the happy-go-lucky, white beagle everyone loves that has a nose-in-the-air dance that is joy, personified. He exudes positive energy, no matter what the situation and never gets hung up on a negative thought for more than a single cartoon frame. He gives no explanation for his happiness and needs no reason to always live on the greener side of life's fence. 

He is happiness.

He is Snoopy. 

I find that simple things have great potential for life impact due to their vastly open capacity for interpretation. Enter, Snoopy, the cartoon dog from the Peanuts Gang.  

Funny how a simple black and white cartoon character from the 1950's that speaks no words can be an influential figure to 24 year old me, today. It's hard not to smile when you think of his trademark happy dance complete with piano tune in the background. 

Everyone, today, is busy. Everyone is stressed. Everyone has an endless to-do list and no one has enough time to do it all. 

We have become accustomed to being tired and frazzled. Antidepressants and self-medicating tactics are turned to far more often that they should be. We numb out the pain and demands of life and have no energy left to be happy. 

We don't smile and dance nearly as much as we should.

Perhaps, it may not always be appropriate to break out in a full out dance, but even when life is the crappiest of crap, we have the ability to break a smile across our faces. 

Life only puts things in our path that we are capable of handling. Sometimes these things seem so monumentally impossible to deal with, smiling and laughing about it initially is the only way to take the first stab at it. It takes the edge off. Try it.

But, how could we smile? There are bills to pay, places to be, deadlines to meet... What is there to be happy about? 

Snoopy needs no reason to be happy. Why do we?

Loving Ourselves First

As I browsed through some blogs, I came across this on feelgoodeating.blogspot.com:

"A fool in love makes no sense to me. I only think you are a fool If you do not love."

What a beautiful quote! 

I believe that love is one of the strongest powers in existence. I could go on to argue that love gives purpose to life. 

Love is passion.
   Love is relationships.
      Love is respect for self and others.
         Loving yourself and others and to be loved is happiness. 

To love ourselves is to take care of our own well-beings. 

Without that fundamental base of self-care, how can we expect to provide the best love and care for others? Far too often, there is an imbalance between the energy we spend in the outpouring of care versus the energy used to make sure we are at our well-est. 

Imagine if we held on to a fraction of the energy we expend doing things for others, meeting others' deadlines, and making sure others know we love them. 

To love and care for yourself is not selfish, but necessary.

Making sure we feed ourselves nutritious, yummy foods, keep our bodies strong and limber with proper stretching and exercise, maintain mental stimulation for our brains and honor our needs for rest and relaxation are all vital for us to thrive and reach our fullest potential. 

To believe we do not deserve the same love we share with others is nonsense. To dishonor our bodies, minds and spirits through neglect, poor quality foods, physical and chemical abuse, and negative self-talk only broods more negativity. 

We all deserve happiness; taking self-care measures to bring more light and positive energy into our lives puts us in a much better place to be able to share that same bright energy with others. 

So here's to cooking a good, hearty meal, getting to the gym, allowing room for more laughter and taking long, soothing bubble baths to ease ourselves to restful sleep!

Keeping the Enthusiasm

The little white dog kept her nose in a dirt pile, paying us no mind as we neared her lawn. Biscuit stepped on a branch, snapping it beneath her paw. 

She saw us.  

Her whole body perked up in attention and suddenly, the dirt pile held little importance compared to this stranger and her human. 

Off she bolted, frustratingly confined by the invisible fence her human had installed to keep her from running away. She reached the end of the zone, pivoted and sprinted back to where she had begun, the whole time keeping her eyes fixated on us as we stood still, watching her furiously dart back and forth, back and forth, yapping, yapping, yapping. 

I laughed at the tiny fluffy pup and her silliness, but at the same time, envied her ability to be so explosively excited at the most minute happening. My dog and I offered her nothing but stimulation, yet her tail enthusiastically wagged off in a tizzy, no holds barred. 

In the sheer simplicity of the yappy creature's joy, I realized how much more enjoyable life would be if we all allowed ourselves to feel such extreme happiness at the simple things in life.

I'm not advocating we do back-flips every time a new person passes by- there is a certain level of decorum humans (sometimes sadly) must adhere to. I remember being "spoken to" by a superior after giving a hug, complete with running start and a leap, to my boyfriend at the time, when he came to visit me at work. Apparently, this was not "acceptable" behavior. Hmph. 

Ok, so I understand (but won't always agree) that there is a time and place to express excitement at the highest volumes according to rules, codes of conduct, blah, blah, blah... But, I do think that we could all benefit from adding an extra exclamation point when expressing happiness when it strikes. 

Perhaps this means...

showing more excitement when seeing a loved one at the end of a long day,

or

not suppressing the sheer feel-good-ness that comes from a great workout,

or 

wearing a full-on smile as opposed to a weak grin when someone takes a moment to pay a compliment.

It truly is the little things in life that have the potential to make the biggest impact. Allowing ourselves to be happy and feel joy on the highest possible level is an important part of taking care of ourselves and our well-being. 

Smiling, laughing, expressing happiness offers levity to the entire body, mind and spirit... it's like giving ourselves a big, cuddly hug, from the inside-out. Why would we ever put a limitation on that?  

Running in 91F Can Cause Temporary Insanity…

Two and a half miles into my four mile run in the 91 degree weather, I pulled back my pace to conserve energy and switched to a light jog, planning to amp it back up once I reached shadier grounds; the sun relentlessly beat down on me with no branches or shadows to blunt its power. At my slower rate, a car passed me by as I momentarily locked eyes with the driver. Instinctively, I created a back-story in my mind and concluded that he had been unimpressed at the slowness of my movement. I found I was mentally defending myself against this make-believe judgment, spewing back that I had run the first two miles at a much faster roll and fully intended to add some sprints at the last stretch. How dare he judge my less than optimal pace? How dare he assume I was a slow runner? The car was miles away by then.

Growing up, I was conditioned by constant feedback, both negative and positive, to gauge how well or poorly I was doing. Grades, piano recitals, play performances, art pieces… all meaningless until after I was told how wonderful or atrocious they were.  I developed a need for validation of my efforts, otherwise, they were pointless. Like any other habit picked up as a child, it was hard to unlearn and un-need validation for my hard work, but it had to be done in order to live a happy life and have healthy, non-codependent relationships.  

Running, lifting, sweating, changing my body and improving my fitness are all personal efforts of mine. I put in a lot of time, energy and all around hard work in to myself in order to practice what I preach and be the best possible version of me. These things are my own- not in competition with anyone (but myself) and not to impress anybody (but myself… sometimes!). If I shave a rep off of a set or knock a mile off of a run I know I can complete, I am only cheating myself out of my own personal goals. I’ve come to know my body. I know my personal bests… how much I was able to lift the last time… how far and fast I ran the time before (and I’ll be damned if this time I don’t match or break those records!). I need no one to tell me how hard I’m working and need no recognition as to if my workout was a success or not. I am my most honest, informed, and accurate critic and I need no one’s validation to confirm or tell me otherwise!

Old habits die hard. Sometimes they creep back when least expected and manifest in the most odd of ways. I ended the mental argument I had been having between the random driver-by and myself, swearing it must have been partially fueled by the sweltering heat. How silly I had been, giving any weight to the opinion of a man that was most likely just checking out to see if I had huge knockers (which I most certainly don’t… sorry to disappoint, sir). After regaining sense (and sanity), I picked my pace back up once out of the unshaded stretch of road and ended my run with a few interval sprints. As I took a lap around the driveway, I felt the endorphins flooding through my body and I relished in the wonders of “runner’s high.” Ahh… yes, that’s right… after the miles have been logged and the time has been checked, that immeasurable feeling right there that only I can experience? That’s what it’s all really about.

Pint Sized Buddhas

The love from a toddler is much the same as that of a puppy- unadulterated, uncalculated, in its purest pristine form. Their hugs and smiles have yet to be corrupted and (hopefully) come with no ulterior motives (minus the occasional affection-for-a-cookie barter). When a child says “I love you,” it is honest. It is said with no holds barred, worry-free of your choice to repeat those the three words in return (but, how could you not?!).

Children are pint sized Buddhas housing the keys to happiness; each offers a world of simple lessons that we all at one point knew ourselves, but had slowly let go of as life grew less simple with every passing year. I’ve been lucky enough to meet a close friend’s five year old daughter who has taught me a lesson more important than any I could have ever learned in a classroom.

Her laugh is happiness personified and the broadness of her smile trumps that of the Cheshire cat. I envy that her bouncy up and down jumping that never fails to accompany her excitement is socially acceptable, as I would probably attract some odd glances if I did the same. She is a human exclamation point, having yet to learn to hold back her emotions or scale back her level of energy and her aura glows with radiant positivity. She wants for nothing except the occasional toy to add to a never-ending collection and the pureness of her heart automatically attracts love from every life she touches. If only the essence of this five year old could be bottled and mass distributed, world peace could finally be achieved.

When is it that the amount of laughter and smiles in our day becomes overshadowed by stressful brow-furrowing and concerned frowns? When in our lives do tears stream down our faces only from sadness and no longer from uncontainable joy? How sad it is that we must stifle our emotions in favor or socially acceptable behavior!

I am not suggesting that adults behave exactly like toddlers- unfortunately, that may land one in an asylum of some sort. What I do suggest is that we all reignite that dying flame of pure happiness and love within usthat had shone so brightly when we were children, but had been slowly burning out over the years. It may not be appropriate to physically jump up and down for joy over every last thing, but we can allow ourselves to feel the same happiness and express it in a tamer way. Letting someone that is truly dear to us know we love them should never be a point of hesitation because, honestly, who doesn’t have room for just a little more love?

Even though life does get more complicated by responsibilities and hardship,the simplicities of life still remain. The fountain of youth IS the essence of our own youths we’ve suppressed as time has passed. The child within is the love, happiness, excitement, and exuberance within us all. The most valuable lessons are often not found in textbooks or lectures. Recently, my most cherished lesson has come from a bright-eyed, highly-animated, curly blonde haired five year old that melted my heart to a puddle on the floor as she threw her arms around me and said “I love you.” 

The Day I Went Postal on the Scale

The first installment in a series unraveling “my story…”  This process’ purpose is for reflection on past experiences in order to dig out the positive messages and lessons from the negative rubble…

Most 13 year old girls obsess about 13 year old boys, dreamy tweeny-bopper stars, the latest school bus gossip and what flavor Lip Smackers they bought at the store. As trivial as these fixations were, I would have given anything to have been stuck on the Justin Biebers of my day rather than what plagued me for years to come…

Wake up… get on the scale

Use the bathroom… get on the scale

Eat breakfast… get on the scale

Come home from school… get on the scale

Use the bathroom… get on the scale

Abstain from food and drink for hours… get on the scale…

An estimated 2.7% of girls between 13 and 18 years old suffer from eating disorders. -National Institude of Mental Health (NIMH)

From the age of 13, I became a statistic. How much I weighed and how little I ate were of utmost importance; I subconsciously grasped for a semblance of control somewhere… anywhere in my life.

My body image issues began early on and, although the core issues surpassed the superficiality of looks, I became obsessed with the number on the scale. I allowed a primitive piece of equipment rule my emotions and bar me from happiness, as the number never seemed to satisfy. If the number was too high, I failed; if it stayed the same, my efforts to bring the number down were useless; if it were lower than expected, it fed into the weight loss obsession- there was no winning situation. By day’s end, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to have stepped on and off of that device of personal torture upwards towards twenty times. I was no longer a person- I was an object.

Fast forward to today…

I look back at the days where a literal tenth of a pound reduced me to tears.  Bringing home an A+ on a paper or receiving first chair as a 7th grade flutist in the 8th grade band held no importance;no matter what I had managed to accomplish in my day, nothing could define me more than that plastic measuring device.

I cannot pinpoint the exact moment that it happened, but a switch flipped within me, shedding light on the hopelessness of my attempts to let a needle on a wheel of numbers define my “goodness.” Although I still fought a long path to recovery after this moment, I thank my lucky stars to have relinquished the obsession with the scale when I had.

I don’t remember the last time I stepped on a scale. When I go to to the doctors’ for a checkup, I insist on facing away from the display and request the number not be shared with me. I don’t remember what the last reading said, nor do I remember the exact moment when I decided “never again!” I do, however, remember the ceremonial moment in which I took a hammer to the cheap “Health-o-Meter” scale, channeling every last frustration it has ever given as I bludgeoned it to smithereens. 

Now, as a personal trainer and a holistic health coach, I preach against the use of numbers to show progress. I favor measurements in terms of energy levels, mood stability and the fit of clothing (not the actual size). Due to erratic changes in water weight, the heaviness of muscle trumping that of fat, hormonal levels in the body, etc, I don’t see such a volatile number as a fair way to determine body composition or, on a deeper level, self-worth, at all. Scales are for fish, not for humans.

Constantly a work in progress, I have morphed my sense of self far away from what my weight is. The people I affect, the changes I create, the smiles I cause are all much more indicative of self-worth than any number would ever be able to tell. The day I destroyed my scale was not the day my battle ended, but it was absolutely a landmark moment in my life in which I refused to be defined by such a worthless measurement. Even though the illness falsely made me believe I had everything in perfect order, going ape on the rectangular white scale with the bold black and red numberswas the moment I reclaimed some actual control over my out-of-control, food/image/perfection driven life.

Out of My Own Way

Dizzy and seeing stars, I gasped for air, gulping it down, causing my stomach to churn, ebbing on nausea. I regained the slightest bit of composure, watched the timer count the last second of the interval and hopped back on to the speedily-rolling belt of the treadmill, grasping for any last bit of motivation I could to complete the high intensity interval training run I had set out to accomplish. With ten seconds left of my final uphill sprint, I wondered if I could finish. I contemplated cutting the last stretch short… “It’s only ten seconds less than what you had wanted to do. What’s the difference?”

Fueled by anger towards the fact that a voice of such negativity and dishonor even existed within me, I dashed out the last ten seconds and pushed myself to sprint another ten. I wasn’t punishing myself for toying with the idea of cheating myself out of my workout- a negative cannot and should not be corrected by another negative. Instead, the added sixth of a minute, although barely conquered with teeth ground shut, served to prove that my limits were not as limiting as I had thought.

Harder this time, I sucked in as much air as my lungs would allow, aware that I was “that person” in the gym with the audible working-out soundtrack blasting “Erika’s Inhale-Exhale” on repeat. Hidden in the pained wince of my face was also a subtle smile from the pride i felt for getting through it all.

As I dismounted from the treadmill, I felt a buzzing energy in my legsthat I could easily have mistaken for/settled to call fatigue. My aim was to push my abilities to high levels and my wobbly legs were proof that I had met that. Much like the positive pain I referred to in a previous post, the soreness in the muscles of my legs was welcomed and earned. To the uninvited negativity that nearly made me quit before I was ready to, I vow to raise my personal bar even higher, yet, partially as a mockery of the nay-saying voice… try and stop me now.

Bye Bye Happy Pills

Part of being human means to feel human emotions. Each, whether they be positive,  negative or neutral, is a gift to be appreciated, no matter how difficult some may be to feel. I am thankful to be able to experience a full range of emotions from extreme, violent rage and utterly depressive sadness to joyously delightful excitement and sheer happiness (preferably not all at once nor in immediate succession).

Today marks a big day for me- over the past two months, I have taken it upon myself to finally taper off an antidepressant I had been on since my early teenage years. Despite my mother’s pleads not to, I innately felt it was the right thing to do; ten years is long enough to have this chemical in my body.

I went about this pragmatically and cautiously. I gradually decreased the dosage a week or two at a time and paid very close attention to my body and mind. Initially, I felt waves of anxiety come and go and as a knee jerk reaction, I thought it must be an adverse reaction. I feared that my body had become so dependent on this chemical that my brain would never be able to functionally create its own serotonin balance.

“Breathe!” - I demanded to myself (something everyone could do more of). I realized I had been psyching myself out and creating a self-fulfilling prophecy by expecting the worst to happen. I noticed that I was so afraid of feeling anxious that I was, in turn, creating more anxiety within myself! I was cyclically damning myself and if I ever wanted to successfully be free of taking those daily pills, I would have to trust that my able body and mind would be just fine without them!

Long story short, today was the first day completely off of the antidepressant. Over the past few weeks, my smile never left me and my anxiety never crippled me. It may be the reverse-placebo effect of knowing the medicine is not in my body, but I feel like I am thinking clearer, feeling stronger and laughing harder.

I think back to when I was first adjusting to the highest dose of the “happy-pills” I was put on and hated the numbness it made me feel. I remember hating that I couldn’t cry if I wanted to, couldn’t act on my anger if it was necessary, couldn’t feel the whole range of happiness/sadness/frustration/rage.

Sure, the depression was gone and I am thankful that the medicine did its job, but the anti-emotional side effects were something I was not willing to accept for the rest of my life. I want tears to stream down my face when I watch a sad movie, I want to be so excited about a new opportunity that I leap in the air, I want to feel.

It’s often said that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. For ten years my emotions were suppressed in favor of a clinically stabilized state-today I reclaim my right to my ups, my downs, my smiles, my frowns, and everything in between.

**Disclaimer: I am NOT a physician and would highly recommend anyone who is thinking about discontinuing medications to consult with their physician/psychiatrist as there are adverse side effects that may occur if not done correctly**