This elusive place called Onederland

If you have read my blogs before, I think I know what you're thinking. She did it! She made it to Onederland! What an accomplishment?

Nope.

It's been three weeks and my weight has just...stalled. My doctor said eat more carbs. My nutritionist said eat more often. My nurse said eat more protein. My body is changing but the scale just...isn't.

I share this for one big reason: this weight loss thing is a battle for my heart and my soul. And I don't want to only share the victories. The real truth is that I am wildly frustrated. And I am wondering when I will get to see a "1" at the beginning of my weight on the scale. I thought I would have crushed that milestone by now. A three week stall when I am training for a half marathon and running 15-18 miles a week?

Come on.

The thing that I hate about social media is we don't really post what's truly going on. We post the best stuff. The stuff we are proud of. The moments that we want to remember. Because why would we post about the struggles? The stuff we are ashamed of? The moments we want to forget?

Amidst this frustration of a perceived "lack of progress" I am reminded daily of how far I have come. And God gives me three words every day when I want to quit.

Stay. The. Course.

Stay the course. Remain and be present in the process. Embrace the discomfort. Do the work. Share all of it. All of it. Because our collective story will never just be the "facebook moments." Our story is the highs and lows and all points in between. 

We will make it to Onederland. When it's time. And until then, we will stay the course. Today I ran 9 miles, because that's what is on my training plan. Tomorrow will reveal itself to me. 

When it's time.

This magical place called "Onederland"

When I first started my bariatric surgery journey, I was 318 pounds. But that was not my heaviest.

Have you ever noticed the maximum weight on almost every doctor's scale? In case you didn't know, it's 350 pounds. And I remember a time, in my 20s, when I tipped that scale. I remember it because it was one of the most humiliating experiences I've ever had. But that didn't wake me up when it should have. Instead, it made me crawl back into the overeating hole I was used to. Food for comfort, making me more uncomfortable than ever.

March 2018 was my first appointment towards bariatric surgery. That was my initial 318 pound weigh-in. I had lost and gained and lost and gained many times before. But admitting I needed help was my biggest struggle. After two back surgeries in the past 5 years, my lowest adult weight of 239 crept right back to 318. What I had worked so hard to lose seemed to come back so easily. Isn't that always the way?

The bariatric surgery community always talked about something called "Onederland." It's when you finally see a "1" as the first number on the scale. I can't explain how intangible and out of reach that felt to me at 318 pounds. When was the last time I saw a 1 as the first number on the scale? I have racked my brain and truly can't remember.

As a kid, one of the most terrifying sentences I heard every year from my mom was this one:

"It's time for your yearly physical."

Back to school meant getting a physical. Getting a physical meant getting weighed. Getting weighed meant humiliation and shame for me as a middle school girl. As a kid, doctors don't really know how to address your weight. Parents don't know either. My mom and dad did the best they could do, but unless I wanted to change, there was no changing. And so it went for me for years. College was no better, and as an adult, I found other ways to compensate socially. I was always outgoing, always funny, always the life of the party.

"Onederland" is not just about a number on a scale. It's a victory that I have never thought was meant for me. It's a dream. It's a myth. It's a magical place with leprechauns riding unicorns and jumping over rainbows. But it was never made for me.

Through my surgery preparation between March and July, I went to a lot of support groups and therapy appointments and listened. A lot. And I realized that sometimes, we believe a lie for so long that we start to live up to it. I never thought I would get to Onederland, because I believed the lie that I didn't deserve it.

So here I am, at 204 pounds. Onederland is coming. And when it does, it will be the biggest victory yet. The victory I thought I couldn't grab, the goal I thought I would never reach, the life I thought I could never live. I don't know when it will happen, but that doesn't really matter, because I know it is coming.

What is your Onederland? Whatever it is, you deserve it. We all do.

Take me out to the ball game

Tiny seats. Tiny sweatshirt. Massive dimples.

For most of my adult life, a simple social question created complex social anxiety in my heart:

"Want to go to the game this weekend?"

That question would bring up a slew of follow up questions in my mind: Where is the game? Is it at PNC Arena? What are the seats like? How big are they? Am I going to fit? Are there arms on the chairs? How will I fit past people on the aisles? Will anyone be sitting next to me? Because if so, they are probably going to be squished sitting next to me.

If you've never been overweight, you might think this sounds neurotic and dramatic. I assure you, it is  the series of questions that always went through my head when anyone asked me to a game. Or a concert. Or a restaurant. Or a trip. Or a movie. When you get to be a certain size, your world also gets to be a certain size. I got bigger and my world got smaller.

Last week I was shopping in Kohl's with a friend and her kids. I mentioned needing a new hoodie and  instead of going to the "big and tall" men's section, we went to the women's Nike hoodies. I found a grey XL sweatshirt and held it up when my friend promptly told me "that is WAY too big for you." She handed me a large purple sweatshirt instead and told me to try it on. I panicked for a second, thinking "there is no way this is going to fit, and I am going to be in the middle of Kohl's wearing an impossibly tight sweatshirt looking like a dummy."

But the women's large sweatshirt fit. When 6 months ago I would wear a men's 2xl. I got in line to buy the sweatshirt and I was just staring at the tag. When was the last time I wore a large? When was the last time I wore a women's Nike large? I was fighting back my tears in the checkout line. It was such a victory for me to finally buy something that wasn't the largest something in the store. Even my friend's kind son leaned up against me, looked at me and said "This a lot to take in, huh?" Smart kid.

So I went to the ball game. In my Nike women's large sweatshirt. And I sat in those tiny seats at PNC Arena. And I sat in that moment with thankfulness for every single one of the 108 pounds I have lost so far. What a victory it is for me to fit in anywhere I want now. Any game. Any concert. Any movie. Any airplane. Any Nike sweatshirt.

And as usual, without my friends there, I would have bought that too big grey sweatshirt. And I wouldn't have gone to PNC Arena for fear of not fitting in. And I would not have realized the weight of the moment. (see what I did there?)

Let your friends be your mirror.

Branded!

As a 5' 10" 300+ pound woman, shopping always terrified me.

Shopping malls made me anxious. If a friend wanted to go shopping in a clothing store, I would hang out by the accessories. And not even the rings or the bracelets. The necklaces. Maybe the scarves. Or the socks. I pretended to care about shopping for...socks.

And as my friends would try on clothes and could choose any color of any item off of any rack, I just tried to avoid the awkward interaction with a sales person on the floor.

"Are you finding everything ok?"

"No, not really. In fact, nothing you have here fits me. Not even close. And I have to wait here while my naturally thin friends have to decide what to buy because they have all the choices in the world."

(actually, the only answer I could ever muster up was "Yup! Thanks!" I always wondered if they were questioning why I was even in their store in the first place, because the up and down looks I got sort of tipped me off...)

Since I started the push towards weight loss surgery in March, I started at 318 pounds. I ripped out a page from the LL Bean catalog and put it on my fridge. It was a page with regular women's clothing. Sizes S-XL. I had never been able to fit into anything smaller than the largest plus size LL Bean had -  a 3XL. That picture was my motivation that everyday choices might one day get me into everyday sizes.

On Black Friday, a few friends and I were among the crazies to go shopping at an outlet mall. I walked into J. Crew to just get some perspective of where I was with everyday sizes. It took courage for me to take an XXL shirt off of the rack and try it on in a dressing room. It took courage for me to pick out another XL shirt just to see how close I could be to fitting into an everyday size. I have shopped at Old Navy online for everything. That had been my only choice. And my mind had been trained to look for the biggest sizes everywhere i go. The bigger my clothes were, the more I could...hide. Baggy clothes made me feel small. But, baggy clothes also made me feel...small. In all the ways I didn't want.

So there I was in the J. Crew changing room and I had a moment. That XXL shirt was too big. That XL shirt fit me perfectly. And their chinos. And their sweaters. And I was no longer the largest size they carried. I fit in. And I proudly replaced that XXL button down knowing I would never need it again.

That LL Bean catalog clipping is gone from my fridge, replaced by new milestones to hit. And I have since had to downsize my pants from the Gap. Every time I wear my LL Bean shirt or my J Crew chinos or my Gap pants I can't believe they fit. When I take them out of the dryer to do laundry I still think "these aren't my pants, these are tiny."

I am waiting for my brain to catch up to my body. But every day is progress. And every day is a day I accept as it is. And who knows? Maybe you'll see me shopping at stores in the mall soon. And maybe I'll roll into one of the "fancy" stores I used to go to and get up and down looks while perusing their sock collection and ask the salesgirl: "You work on commission, right? Big mistake! Big! Huge!"

I think Julia Roberts would be proud.

Side effects

Picture on the left? Thanksgiving last year. Picture on the
right? Me at the car dealership a few weeks ago. With
less "size on me..."

So, I am about 4 1/2 months out from surgery (July 11th). The weather is changing here in North Carolina. And I have lost my outer layer of warmth, about 99 pounds of it actually.

I am freezing. All the time. Side effect.

Today, for instance, was a sunny day, high of about 50 degrees. So naturally I wore wool socks and two jackets. I am forever wearing wool socks and two jackets. I also had to steal a space heater from a co-worker. Thanks, AB!

A few weeks ago, I got a new car. It reminded me of the last time I shopped for a new car three years ago. I remember going to the dealership and the Ford salesman asked what I was looking for. I told him an SUV, anything from an Explorer to an Escape.

The poor guy looked at me and said "hmmm...not sure you would want an Escape. You have some size to you."

I say "poor guy" because I bet the look on my face was enough to make him want to crawl into a hole. I "have some size" to me? Are you allowed to say that? The sad thing is...he was right. I just hated that he was right. So I got an Explorer, and walked away feeling the opposite you feel when you get a new car: embarrassed and ashamed.

But that was then. And this is now. I could get any car I want this time. In fact, my rental car was a tiny Toyota Corolla for a few weeks and you know what? I fit in it just fine. I don't have that "size" to me anymore. Side effect.

But today, today was a great side effect I wasn't anticipating. I probably work out in the mornings 5 times a week. It's the same crowd at the Y at that time, and I know most of the faces but we are there to get a job done and leave so there isn't a whole lot of socializing. This morning, a woman I have seen often but never have talked to took her headphones out to talk to me. I found out her name is Kimberly. Here's how the conversation went:

Kimberly: "You look amazing! What are you doing?"
Me: "Well, I had weight loss surgery in July, but I have to stay active and work the plan to stay healthy."
Kimberly "I am doing the low carb thing, it's so hard."
Me: "You are in here every time I'm here so you are doing something right!"
(insert small talk about squats and sugar and the bench press)
Kimberly: "I have to tell you, you are my inspiration to show up in the mornings. Watching your transformation motivates me to keep trying."
(insert me sweating and also crying a little bit too.)

What?! I didn't go into this thinking it would affect other people like it has. Every day is a chance for me to encourage someone else that tells me how happy and healthy I look. And it's not just about weight loss. It's about taking chances. Asking for help. Knowing your worth. Fighting for yourself. Some of the conversations I have gotten to have have been unexpectedly deep and meaningful and I love it.

Like Kimberly. Who just needs that extra push from a familiar face at the Y. Change is possible, you just need someone in your life to remind you. Side effect.

Get out of your own head.

We were all just happy to have made it!

There are a lot of things that naturally thin people don't think about. And I am sure that several of those things are things that happened to me this past week.

For example, I was being interviewed at a meeting for my town commissioner work, and I showed up before the interview was to start. It was in a large auditorium. When I got there, I saw two high-top chairs for the interview. No big deal, right?

You see, high-top chairs are not a friend to those of us that struggle with weight. They are often flimsy, and relatively small, making us wonder if they will hold us for one, and if our backsides will actually fit on the seat. In the past, I have found these chairs so uncomfortable that I would avoid restaurants that had them as the only seating option. So to have that as my "perch" during a 60-minute interview gave me anxiety.

Another example is this: I went to a local ice cream shop with friends that used to be a very old fast food restaurant. The only seating is fixed booths. The last time I was there (about 10 months ago), I had to pull a stool over from the other side of the restaurant because I couldn't fit in the booth. I laughed it off at the time because I was with a group of people and you know, that's what you do. You laugh at yourself before someone else has the chance to laugh at you (classic elementary school survival technique).

And the third example that happened to me last night: I went to a haunted forest called Panic Point with a group of friends. I had never been there before but I heard that you walk through a lot of dark, tight spaces. How tight are these spaces? Will I be able to get through them? These haunted houses were designed for the average person. But not people like me. What do I do if I get stuck? How tight are we talking here?

I have pondered all three of these events this week and came to one conclusion: my brain has not yet caught up to my body.

Not only that, but I am reminded of perspective and the danger of getting into my own head too much. In my own head, I am still 320 pounds and can't sit on a high-top chair or fit in a restaurant booth or walk through your average haunted house. But when I have recounted those fears to a close friend, the reality is so much different. My friend reminds me I am 80 pounds lighter and running 12 miles a week and can fit on all the chairs, restaurant booths, and haunted houses that I want to.

So, I sat comfortably in that high-top chair. I fit confidently in that booth. And I walked like a scared puppy through those tight haunted houses. (Yes I fit! Yes it was still scary!)

While I am waiting for my brain to catch up to my body, I have learned to get out of my own head. Alone, I hear voices that just don't tell the truth. But with friends, I am reminded of who I really am. And that perspective is what will save us from ourselves.

It doesn't matter what you are battling. I just happen to be battling an obvious weight struggle. Other battles are more private and don't show on the surface like mine does. Each one of us has our thing. But I am telling you: don't battle alone. Lock arms with the ones that love you and fight.

Step one: get out of your own head.

Am I going to fit?

How many times does this ride go
upside down?

When you've been overweight as long as you can remember like I have, you never really forget that the world isn't really made for you.

As of today, I am down 67 pounds. I am fitting into the smallest stuff I own, and have pretty much gotten rid of all my old clothes. I even ordered some pants from The Gap and they fit. When I hold them in my hands, I think they are someone else's pants. When I put them on, I think there is no way they will fit. But they do. And I still can't believe it.

But the big win for the week for me was conquering that roller coaster fear. The last time I did this was in 2012. Pretty soon after that, I injured my back, and that started the surgeries that derailed me and contributed to me gaining about 70 pounds back over the course of a few years.

So here we are, in 2018, and my best friend Julie (who loves roller coasters) invited me to go to Howl-A-Scream with a group to Busch Gardens. I remember saying yes a few months ago thinking "oh it's a few months away, sure I'll go! Last time I rode a roller coaster in 2012 I got nauseous all day, but I'm sure I''ll be fine!"

Saturday arrived, and we approached the first ride called Apollo's Chariot. No upside down or backwards, no problem. Except one problem. Will I fit into the roller coaster seat? If you're naturally thin, you've never thought about this. But when you struggle with weight your whole life like me, you wonder about the airplane seat. And the restaurant booth. And the roller coaster seat. I even remember as a middle schooler, waiting in line for a ride at Hershey Park and getting to the front only to find I couldn't fit into it, and having to slink off to the exit. As a middle school girl. Humiliating.

I guess it's become enough of an issue that, thankfully, theme parks now have a "tester" seat at the front of some of their

rides. These tester seats are for "larger park guests" that don't want to be humiliated after waiting in line and then not fitting.

So Julie and I got up to the ride, saw the tester seat, and I turned to her in a panic and said "What if I get to the front of the line and I can't fit in the seat?" And THIS is why we need good friends. She looked at me almost shocked and said "You will never have to worry about that again."

So I sat in the seat. And I fit. And I realized my brain has yet to catch up to my body. I still see myself as I was at 320 pounds, not fitting in, and being scared of new adventures where I can't control my environment. And the roller coaster? Terrifying.

We moved on to the next ride called Da Vinci's Cradle and it had a seatbelt in the seat. Which fit around my waist, and I was shocked. And then there was a bar that was supposed to latch down over you. I grabbed the bar and it wouldn't latch. I turned to my friend Julie, again, and had a panicked look on my face like "I'm too big for this ride" and right when I thought that, realized that the staff hadn't yet locked it down on the whole ride. It had nothing to do with me. Again, my brain couldn't believe I could fit, and I had that panicked look on my face that I had been used to my whole life: "I am too big to fit."

Shout out to Da Vinci's Cradle. The
motion sickness was too real.

The fun plot twist of the day is that motion sickness doesn't get better as you age, it gets a LOT worse. So I spent half the day on dramamine trying to recover from Da Vinci's Cradle (which goes backwards waaaaaay too much) and another coaster called Verbolten that takes you into complete darkness and scrambled my stomach beyond repair. But, once the dramamine kicked in, I ended the day again on Apollo's Chariot because I needed to end on a high note, not a pukey one.

The moral of my Busch Gardens story? Trust your friends. I see that theme in my life a lot lately. I am the queen of getting into my own head too much. Trust your friends. When you overthink something and are inconsolable, trust your friends. Find that one or two people that you trust, and let them in fully. Don't be afraid to get hurt. You will get hurt. Because people hurt each other. But the best friends are the ones that stay with us through the pain. And talk it out. And ask forgiveness. And accept your forgiveness.

Trust your friends. They know where you fit. And where you belong.

I can't thank this patient group enough (l to r: Melanie,
Julie, Aaron, motion sickness girl, and Amy)

You just have to go through it.

Last night I went through my closet to start getting rid of clothes that no longer fit. I tried on almost everything I had before putting it aside for Goodwill. I thought about events I wore certain clothes to. I thought about how long I had certain outfits, the friends I was with when I wore them, and how I have kept things for so long because they were too small and I now hoped I could fit into them. And here I was, missing that window, and now passing those clothes on to someone else.





I dreaded going through my closet. I'm not exactly sure why. I wanted to keep the door shut and not go through it. But when I woke up this

morning, I realized why I was so afraid to go through it: 

What if I gain all the weight back and need those clothes again?

I have been through this before. About 5 years ago, I lost 80 pounds. Then, due to a long struggle with a back injury, I had two back surgeries within two years and gained almost all the weight back. At my smallest, I gave all my clothes away, and swore I would never gain the weight back. Then I did.

That's part of the reason I sought surgical help to lose the weight and keep it off. I couldn't do it alone. And as the weight is coming off, there is still that fear that one day, it will come back on again. The fear is not logical, but that small voice is always there.

It is easier to go around things than go through them. It is easier for me to keep my closet door shut and not face the past, or fear the future. But easier is not better. I just have to go through it. When faced with pain, we have that fight or flight reaction which can be visceral and subconscious. But, I am practicing the art of being present, to let others into this struggle with me. I am choosing to fight. To go through it and not around it.

So, I am taking these clothes to Goodwill. And I am staring at an empty closet. But as a wise friend told me, this is not a phase. This is a beginning. I am finding so much value in living in this moment, and not worrying about tomorrow. We just have to go through it. Not around it.

Practicing being brave

Practicing being brave because, clearly, this is not Georgie's
favorite situation to be in. But one day, it will be!

So my second dog, Georgie, just got back from "camp" for three weeks. What is camp you might wonder? He lived with a trainer for three weeks and worked on potty training, basic commands, and social anxiety. But as his trainer put it, he spent a lot of time "practicing being brave."

This phrase made me laugh at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought how perfectly it defines not just my dog's emotions, but mine. This practice is necessary for my shy dog because he is putting himself out there and meeting people when he would rather sit at home and play video games.

Wait, that's me.

Social anxiety in humans is mimicked in their dogs. I now have two dogs that struggle with new environments and comfort with new people. Ok God, I get it. So the three members of my household are now practicing being brave together. Today that meant that Shiloh, Georgie, and I went to the little main street in my town and sat on a bench while motorcycles, strollers, and people walked by. We even ran into a group of ladies leaving a Wednesday knitting club and they gave my dogs lots of practice! (told you I live in a small town)

That was great practice for Georgie and Shiloh. But what about me? Well, I practiced being brave today by pulling myself off the couch, turning off Vanderpump Rules, and going for a work out. I know it was brave because I didn't want to do it. I wanted to order a pizza. Or get Panera (and not the healthy kind of Panera). I get tired of the effort, and the journey, and the working out, and the not eating McDonalds. But being healthy is a daily choice. And right now, it is my daily practice of being brave.

It's easy to do what we've always done. But it's lonely. And to get what I've never had, I have to do what I've never done. Georgie and Shiloh say "AMEN!"

Oh and did I mention that Georgie starts training tomorrow to become a therapy dog? Imagine this face in hospitals and hospice facilities bringing joy into worlds of grief. I MEAN.

Hello, my name is...

Had a crazy privilege to speak to some YMCA professionals last week at a youth conference in the mountains. It was crazy because the other speakers were authors, corporate consultants, and Y-USA policy makers.

And me.

So, that was crazy.

I am completely unqualified for most things. My credentials are few and far between. I guess the one thing I can speak on is people. And emotions. And being an emotional person. Turns out, those are topics that are welcomed by most, even though at first glance, we all try to avoid them.

My friends keep asking me what I spoke about. And I always feel like I need to answer with some grand concept that I have come up with. But my answer is "I don't know, I just talked about people and labels and being ok with being who you are."

Simple concept, but a daily struggle.

Have you ever been labeled in your life? By a mistake, by a number on a scale, by a break-up, by a regret? I have. Did you let that label define you? I have. Does it still define you?

For me, being 39 and single is very hard. And I am reminded of it every time I go on social media. It's filled with posts about marriage and kids and pregnancy. My posts are about motorcycles and pinball machines and video games.

39 and single doesn't have a demographic. Especially in Christian circles. In that world, it is kind of...sad. If you are 39 and single as a Christian woman you are...alone. So therefore I am...lonely.

Lonely.

And I have let that label define me. For way too many years. And I always think people can't relate. No one can feel the way I do.

And I have believed that lie. For way too many years.

This past week, speaking to that group of YMCA leaders, was therapeutic. A nice reminder that my crazy thoughts are someone else's crazy thoughts. Getting older is pretty awesome. With each year I am able to be more and more ok with who I am, and recognizing the lies that try to label me.

And if you need some help with a new label, here are some beautiful options for you. Every single one is true.

What my motorcycle has taught me about life

I'm not a big bucket-lister. Not as much as most people, anyway. And if you know me, you know that I am not much of a thrill seeker. Roller coasters make me motion sick (shout out the Cary Y youth department), jumping out of a perfectly good airplane doesn't make sense to me, and ropes courses aren't my thing.

But motorcycles have always been my thing.

I think I have always wanted a motorcycle, and a few months ago I finally bought one. (Side note: don't tell a lot of people you want a motorcycle. Most respond with the stories of broken backs and road side deaths.)

Every weekend I try to get a ride in for at least an hour. This weekend, I got two rides in. I've stopped planning on where I am going. I've started focusing on the ride.

And that, my friends, is counter intuitive to everything I have ever thought about life.

When I was younger, I had aspirations to be a rock star. Or an artist. Or the next great missionary. And then life rolls on and aspirations come down to earth a little more: to be married. To be skinny. To buy a house. To own a black Tahoe.

Aspirations are important. But for me, they blinded me to the journey. I was so busy planning on where I was going, that I didn't enjoy the ride.

When you're on a motorcycle, it's the air. The speed. The smell of spring. The freedom. The color. Today, as I was heading home, I passed my neighborhood and stayed out just a little longer. I wasn't ready to go home yet. I was enjoying the ride so much. (And listening to classic Bruce Springsteen, which also helps.)

We need to enjoy the ride more. A LOT more. We need to stop focusing on "if I just get 'there'  I'll be happy." 'There' is a myth. 'Here' matters more. I kept thinking today of all the people I ignored because I was trying to go some place that I thought was so important.

I have three hundred more things that my motorcycle has taught me about life, but I will save them. Until then, I am trying to form a biker gang, SAMCRO style but without all the murdering and stuff.
Interested? I need some road dogs.

-Liz

A healthy heart.

I've been reading through Henry Cloud books lately. He is a well known speaker, author, psychologist, general bad ass christian guy that keeps things very real. In this world, that's rare. In christian circles, it seems to be even more rare.

Is it ok for christians to admit to struggle? Yes. Do we practice that? No.

I am about halfway through his book "Safe People" and it's fascinating. He has this way of breaking down relationships that will make you nod your head in relief and be reminded that you are not crazy.  I wanted to share this. Read this list slowly, his list of the "Interpersonal Traits of Unsafe People" as follows:

1. Unsafe people avoid closeness instead of connecting.
2. Unsafe people are only concerned about "I" instead of "we."
3. Unsafe people resist freedom instead of encouraging it.
4. Unsafe people flatter us instead of confronting us.
5. Unsafe people condemn us instead of forgiving us.
6. Unsafe people stay in parent/child roles instead of relating as equals.
7. Unsafe people are unstable over time instead of remaining consistent.
8. Unsafe people are a negative influence on us instead of a positive one.
9. Unsafe people gossip instead of keeping secrets.

While this is not an inclusive list, I think he pretty much sums up the traits that can turn any relationship bad quickly. How many times have you been an unsafe person to someone else? I was SHOCKED to take a personal assessment of how many times I have done any of the above things to someone else. Now that doesn't make us unsafe people, it just means we are prone to treating each other in unsafe ways.

Healthy eating ultimately leads me to a healthy heart. And a healthy heart wants to be healthy in every way. This is a big part of that. It's not enough to work on the outside when the inside needs attention. I am taking stock of the food I eat. The work outs I do. But now, how about the thoughts I have? The way I treat others? The things I share? The things I keep private?

Still waiting for My Fitness Pal to develop an app to include my mind intake and my emotional intake. A healthy heart is a lot more than proper calorie intake.

-Liz

Permission to be yourself

I am reading this book with work called "The Gift of Imperfection" by Brene Brown. First of all, this book changed my life when I first read it back in January. So much so, that I am reading it with my co-workers. If you need another reason to believe me, check this out:

"When we can let go of what other people think and own our story, we gain access to our worthiness."

Is this what authenticity is really about? Christians are the worst offenders of all. See when I became a Christian, it was all about responding to Jesus' love for me. But the longer I am a Christian, the more I see my Christian friends trying to be someone that they just...aren't.

Oh but, me too. I am guilty of trying to sound more Christian, talk more Christian, read and write more Christian, look more Christian, just be more...acceptable to Christians.

But isn't that stupid since...Jesus Christ accepts me as I am? It's us Christians that don't accept us as we are.

In other words, how can I gain access to my real worth when I am trying to live someone else's story?

So if you're a Christian and you're reading this, help me to change this epidemic. And if you're a Christian girl reading this, let me give you permission to be yourself. It's ok to be yourself and love Jesus at the same time. In fact, Jesus loves those parts of you that make you different. God made them, after all. Break that "Christian girl mold" that you may have been sold where you have trade in your sass, your fun, your sarcasm, your weirdness for some pale version of yourself.

I don't know, I just have this dream where everyone of us can be ok with who we are and love that about each other. I think accountability is unbelievably important, but that somewhere along the way, we have gotten accountability confused with judgment. Here's the difference: accountability says "I love you and I am with you while we work through this together." Judgment says "I don't like this about you so I am going to label you and walk away."

Can we let go of what other people think about us? If we do, we can finally rest in our own self-worth and stop living as lame versions of ourselves. Trust me. When you aren't being yourself, it is really lame. The world needs you. Just as you are.

When God showed up.

Is it me that shows up, or is it God in me that shows up?

I would be remiss to not document the epic nature of this day. Remember, Thursday (two days ago) was round two of my steroid shots. And on Thursday (two days ago) I could barely stand. And here it is, Saturday. And this is what happened today:

I spent the morning with God. Like every morning in the past two weeks. This, in itself, has been an epic and essential part of my life. It's a joke that I try to maintain a relationship with God when I don't give Him any of my time. Anyone else in my life would have moved on by now. Some have. And who could blame them?

As I was writing in my journal this morning about my physical struggle, God put it in my heart to toss all my junk food out. All of it. So I did. Anything questionable in my house that was impeding my progress was purged. That was amazing.

God showed up.

Mid-morning I went down to NC State to have lunch with the Wizard. Now if you don't know her, you are really missing out. All the while, my leg feels stronger, my back felt loser, and my heart felt fuller. Yeah, fuller.

Do I dare try a workout? I did dare. And I was so...nervous. I have felt defeated, watching myself gain weight back and not be able to control it. Watching my progress turn to regress is heartbreaking. I got on the bike and started pedaling.

And then, God showed up again. In the form of my friend Nancy who works out at the Y frequently, walks with a cane, and never fails to smack my perspective back in line. I said a simple hello to Nancy, but what I really wanted to say is: "you INSPIRE me. Every single day that I see you, and I don't tell you that enough."

So I biked. And I did an upper body workout, and I have never, ever felt so grateful for my hands. And my feet. And the ability to walk. And strength. And progress and struggle and all points in between. Because amidst the peaks and valleys, no matter where I am, God shows up.

I know SO many of you prayed for my healing. I cannot thank you enough. I am overwhelmed with gratitude, and humbled by your love for me. Because of you, God showed up.

It's time for me to start showing up for God a little more.

-Liz

When the sun goes down, so does my willpower.

I got a great FB message from a friend today who struggles with...wait for it...snacking late at night. WHO DOES THAT?

Is everyone raising their hand right now? Cause I am.

Ok, here is her email:

"SO..weird thing is, when you facebooked me back..I didn't respond bc i was falling off the wagon...when i wrote you first i was doing SO well! lost 23 lbs and tHEN....ive gained 10 back. How do you continue to stay motivated?? Thats what im missing! food plays such a big part in my life, when im happy, sad, lonely, entertianment or just plain hungry!....ive noticed just recently i can go all day eating so healthy! and then night comes and i eat EVERYTHING in sight...literally thousands of calories and i cant break that habit! so everything i do during the day gets cancelled out by night time. I love following your blog bc i feel that you understand what im going through. Let me know if you have any tips at all..greatly appreciated! :)"

Can you relate?

So last night, I got home home around 6:30 and ate dinner. Then, the night time is here. Shoot. The tv comes on, and so does my desire for snacking. I had been eating great all day! Was I about to blow it by eating whatever I want while watching RHONJ? (Team Manzo all the way.)

Here's the thing: mindless eating is just that...MINDLESS. We are stuffing things into our mouths without even looking at what's going in there. No portions, no rules, and sometimes, no chewing. Just that general shoveling motion. I have some tips that have worked for me in the past, so take or leave whatever might work for you:

1. Don't eat straight out of the bag. Those calories are adding up, and they will end up on your love handles. Trust me. Portion out whatever you want, and take a small bowl to the couch, NOT the whole bag.
2. Cookie time? Try Luna Fiber bars, or Clif Kidz bars. Both are only about 120 calories and taste like Nutrigrain bars or can be great cookie substitutes. Clif Kidz bars have awesome flavors (Oatmeal and Honey Graham are the bomb). If you love brownies, get the Fiber One peanut butter brownies. Oh. My. Gosh.
3. Skinny Cow Ice Cream. If you just HAVE to have ice cream. These are right around 100 calories and come in a ton of varieties. Basically, you just have to find substitutes that work for you.
4. If you have $250 to spare, I highly recommend getting a Vitamix blender. The Ninja blender is another option (about $100) that people use and like. Both of these will blend leafy greens down to a pulp and you can hide your vegetables in fruit smoothies. For instance, last night I did two bananas, almond milk, ice, spinach, and Hershey's syrup and it's the closest thing I can get to a milkshake without impeding all my progress.
5. Sometimes you're not really hungry, but thirsty. For some weird reason, ice cold water will get me through that initial craving part of the night where I am DYING for something to eat. Your body might just want something to drink and fill you up. Try that one, it might work!
6. Find something else to occupy your hands. Try smoking! Sike. Try video games, or a puzzle, or going for a walk or reading. Watching tv, for me, always means snacking, so I had to change up that routine. I think my hands just got used to automatically feeding my mouth. Sort of like a trained dog. But we are not dogs. Food is not our reward.
7. The kitchen is closed. At around 8pm, I need to declare OUT LOUD that the kitchen is closed. No more snacks, no more nothing. I can have water, and fruits and veggies, but nothing else. Give yourself about 4 hours before bed to declare that you are done eating for the night.
8. Think about how you will feel in 5 minutes. The cravings I get, as soon as I satisfy them, are gone imeediately. And then they are replaced by guilt and regret. How many times have you said "Why did I just eat that?" How many times do you want to say "I'm so proud that I didn't eat that."
9. Do the math. According to this article, One single tortilla chip topped with 7-layer dip would take 9.5 minutes of stair climbing to burn off. There is more scary statistics in the link, but it opens my eyes to why the heck I am eating like I eat.
10. Be a smart grocery store shopper. It sounds crazy, but don't go alone if you can't handle it. Don't push by the ice cream section if it's too much. And don't ever go to the grocery store hungry. This spells disaster for even the strongest person.

Hope this helps. And thank you to my friend for asking a practical food question. This is good for all of us, because we are NOT alone.

Amen!
-Liz

Be your own best friend.

I have been noticing how hard I've been on myself lately. Watching the scale #s, counting calories, watching the time tick away on the treadmill. Very methodical, very scientific, and very...unforgiving.

See, if I had a friend like me, and I saw someone picking on them, putting them down, and being unforgiving towards them, I would immediately stand in the gap and fight for them. Don't treat my friend like that! Why are you being so hard on them? This is my best friend and I won't let you treat her that way!

So why do I do this to...myself?

I'm changing it up. For me, and for the world of us that are too stinking hard on ourselves. I will not, however, give up this fight. I am just choosing to remember that the fight is not against myself.

-Liz

When stupid sayings come true.

"The journey is the destination."

What a stupid saying. At least, that's what I've always thought. I hate admitting when I'm wrong.

A few days ago I fell off the wagon pretty hard. I had some alone time, so I decided to get Cookout. Cheeseburger, onion rings, and a milkshake. I was bracing myself for that terrible feeling of guilt and gluttony afterwards. But it never came. You know what did come? Satisfaction. So that began two days of eating whatever I wanted, not counting calories, and chasing that overfull feeling. At the end of day two, I was actually done with it. It was like I went to visit an old boyfriend, had a fling, and then remembered why I broke it off with him.

Pretty soon, I will hit the one year mark of when I really started doing this weight loss thing. Lately I have found myself in that desert though...where I am not where I was, but I'm not where I want to be. I'm not at my destination. Will I ever get there?

But what if...I'm already there?

And so brings me to my true confession...yes, it's true. The journey is the destination. If I keep living like I am waiting for this to be over, like I am waiting to finally get there, I will always be disappointed and in a rush. I will never live up to my own expectations, and I will be heartbroken.

So I am going to embrace that cheesy saying and admit that it's true. I never believed other people when they said that to me, but they were right. It just took me a while to get there myself. I need to quit being a snob.

Now, let's all get off the internet and journey outside for a run. Keep fighting for yourself!

-Liz

Do you know that this is the fight of your life?

I have watched the scale go down this week. Then up. Conversely, I have watched my emotions go up, then down. More than that, I am slowly seeing the reality of the fight that I am in.

And today I am wondering if maybe some of us don't realize the fight that we're in?

When I started all this, it was about losing weight, but I had a feeling that it was about a lot more than that. So just like peeling back an onion, I didn't realize all the layers, all the depth, and all the tears that would come.

Today I feel like everyone around me is feeling this way. That this is MUCH bigger than we all thought it was. I actually just got done working out with my friend Lauren. Neither of us wanted to work out. Both of us were yawning on the treadmills. 2 pm workouts are not smart, but today it was our only option. We were bored. We powered through. And then we talked about the situations we are both in. We lost weight. We gained some back. We overate. We are trying to get back on track. We struggle, we struggle, we struggle.

For what?

Do you know how I know that this is the fight of my life? Because food has had control of me for WAY too long. My weight has held me back from LIFE. And if weight isn't your issue, maybe something else is. Maybe something else is trying to fill the place in your heart that only God can fill. What is it? The way you can figure it out is to ask yourself one important question: "What do you run to when you need comfort?"

All week, I have had friends say things to me like this:

• I wish this was over.
• I don't feel good about myself, so I don't want to go.
• I had a family crisis, and I immediately ran to food.
• I found myself eating ice cream in bed at 10 pm last night, because of stress.
• I have been eating crap all week, and I feel like crap.

This is the fight of your LIFE. Make no mistake. And don't play it off like it's not a big deal. Don't go out to girls night and eat what they eat because you are "celebrating." Don't buy ice cream at the grocery store and bring it home because it's "not a big deal." Don't skip your workouts this week because you just "need a break."

You know what we need a break from? Living in bodies that we feel uncomfortable in. Beating ourselves up. Letting our weight consume our emotions. Working SO HARD to lose weight, only to let ourselves gain it all back and feel even worse.

THIS, my friends, is what we need a break from. So whatever your next step is, watch where you put your feet. And make sure they aren't in the frozen foods section.

-Liz

Cross your legs.

Trust me when I say, there are a thousand things going on in my head. I need to write a blog about how I am ACTUALLY losing weight, practical ways to do it. I need to write a blog about the self-discipline changes in my life, I need to write a blog about community and change and distance and fear but the topic that will win today is:

Crossing my legs.

It's crazy how I can't see the difference in my body like other people again. It just proves how skewed our view of ourselves is. I have lost 76 pounds since September. But there are days where I still feel that I look the same. The coolest indicator for me lately, however...is being able to cross my legs.

When I was in middle school I was in church choir. I remember that we had a special performance one year and all the girls were to sit at the front of the stage and our choir director instructed us to wear black skirts, and to sit with our knees together, or to cross one leg over the other so we all looked the same. Performance day came and I crossed my legs like the other girls and after the first set of songs, my mom discretely told me "don't cross your legs anymore, because the congregation can see a little too much."

Embarrassing at the time, but a reality now that my legs, since middle school, haven't been crossable since. And it's really only been in the last few months that the comfortable way for me to sit has been to cross my legs. You probably take that for granted. You also might take for granted the fact that you can sit in any chair with arms without wondering if you can fit in that chair. There is an average-sized world of people that has no anxiety over chairs, booths, seats, rides, and everything in between.

I look at my legs now, and I can't believe how awesome they look. I can't believe I can sit in a chair with arms and see extra room in the seat. Honestly. I don't think I'll ever get over how crazy that is. But I feel like such a bad ass when I cross my legs. I try to do it every chance I get.

I have a lot of years to make up for, after all.

-Liz

...the agony of defeat.

Over the 4th of July week, I went to Mexico to an all-inclusive resort. For some people, moderation relates to the unlimited alcohol you can get there. For me, moderation related to the unlimited food that I got there.

I haven't truly recovered since.

Getting back on track is so hard. SO hard. It's hard for me to come to terms with the scale. It hasn't dipped down to where it used to be. I am tired, I don't want to do the 60 minutes of cardio that I need to do. I don't want to eat well. I want to do...whatever I want.

Pride.

Since the rollercoaster ride was over, I tasted victory that made me feel like I was done with all this. I have gotten too comfortable in this new size so I am not going after losing weight like I need to. I have lost the sense of urgency, forgotten that this is the fight of my life, and ignored it.

Mistake.

Yesterday I pulled myself upstairs to work out. I got on the elliptical and decided to listen to sermons instead of music. I thought of Elevation Church in Charlotte because my friend Cameron goes there. I ended up listening to two random sermons by Steven Furtick.

The first one was about facing your fears (you can find it here). In the middle of it, the pastor said, and I quote (from memory, so it's truly paraphrased):

"Maybe you eat because you're happy, or you're sad. You're celebrating, or your mourning, you're lonely, or you're in community. Overeating is never about a lack of discipline, it's about the presence of fear. Fear is preventing you from living out the life that God has intended for you."

Why was this 30-something, thin pastor guy talking about overeating? Needless to say, I was on the elliptical CRYING. Sweating and crying. I figured it was ok since tears look like my sweat drops anyway. Whatever.

Then the 2nd sermon (you can find it here, try to ignore the cool guy soul patch vibe)...was based on only one verse: 1st Samuel 16:1 which says:

The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you mourn for Saul, since I have rejected him as king over Israel? 

So the gist of his sermon is this: How long will you continue to mourn for what God has rejected?

How long will I continue to mourn for what God has rejected? For some of us, it's a bad relationship. For some of us, it's an addiction to anything - a person, a thing, a place, a time of life, a job, you name it.

For me, it's my reliance on food. And Furtick CALLS THAT ONE OUT specifically in his sermon! God spoke to me directly through my stupid iPhone podcast on the stupid elliptical. How long will I continue to mourn for Bojangles, for Ben and Jerry, for Krispy Kreme, for feeling painfully full and using food as my comfort? God has clearly rejected this in my life, I have just chosen to ignore Him.

So I went home and I erased my white board with my "# of pounds to next goal" written on it. I need to reset. I need to start over. I need to live today in victory, and that means letting go of the weight I gained back. I am trying to.

Maybe this is Phase 2. Or maybe it's Phase 32. I don't know. I just know that I have to roll with the punches and not give up. I have to move on, realize the seriousness of the battle, and let go of the past.

How long will YOU continue to mourn over something that God has rejected?

-Liz