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.

Boring is beautiful!

Difficult in a car. Imagine
on a motorcycle...

 I am back from my motorcycle adventure in the mountains. Let me say this...I was not prepared.

If you want to know why, take a look at this google map screenshots. See, mountain roads are not just widely varied in elevation, they are also the twistiest, turniest roads I have ever been on. Mind you, I am used to traveling country roads in Wake Forest and beyond. We're talking generally flat, the occasional turn, and no traffic.

So drop this noob into a city within the mountains, and it's a recipe for certain disaster.

Hot tip: when you ask google to map a route and choose "avoid highways", google likes to replace said highways with gravel roads. On a motorcycle, it's the absolute worst.

So on day one, I was forcibly traveling a gravel road and came to the end of it. Stopped. And remember how I was in the mountains, the turn to hit next was a hairpin and I dropped the bike. Right into the only mud puddle I saw in Asheville. Day one shook my confidence.

Day one. Why I didn't recognize this as foreshadowing
is beyond me.

Aside from my terrifying moto-adventures, the trip was so good for me. Seeing my friend Sam who is ridiculous and wonderful, experiencing Air BnB in a Dexter Morgan shade of bizarre (for more on that, click here), were all perfect moments in my ridiculous life.

At least I got a glamour shot for Honda Powersports.

I hyped this trip up to be a time where I would discover a deeper sense of who I am. That being away would make me realize something I had never seen before. It worked, but not in the way I was intending. I figured out that I suppress who I am too often. I pretend to be a person that craves adventure and spontaneity.

Day three. Or the "What the hell am I doing up here" face.

You know what I really love? Comfort. And air conditioning. And Bravo TV. And my Vitamix. And my motorcycle. But maybe just my motorcycle on hills not mountains. I wish I had been okay with all these things when I was younger. I wish I didn't pretend to love roller coasters and camping and fiction and sleeping on the floor and staying up all night because I thought I was supposed to.

This trip taught me that learning my limits is a great thing. And that comfort isn't a sin. You hear me Christians? Comfort is not a sin. I am boring! Boring is beautiful! Oh and one more thing for my Christian friends...it's ok to laugh. A lot. More on that some other day...

-Liz

Ben is doing life again!

A few weeks ago, I posted about a guy named Ben. I have been following his story for years. Just a  regular dude who started to run, lost a bunch of weight, inspired thousands, and then gained the weight back. He fell off the grid for a while, but now he's back. And I am so excited.

I used to follow a blog called "365 days with the 330 pound woman." She stopped blogging. Ben stopped blogging. Another friend of mine stopped blogging because she gained the weight back.

We share when things are going great. But why do we isolate when things aren't going so great? And I don't mean blogs because really, blogs are stupid and faceless. I mean with the people that know you and allow you to be known.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I wish I was a drug addict instead of a food addict. At least I could stay away from drugs completely. But I am forced to have a relationship with food. And I always will. Food is a living, breathing, reality of every day life for me. And every day holds some kind of food struggle.

Don't give up when things stop going as great as they used to be. I can't tell you how many times I've said "Screw it, let's go get chips and queso." Too many chips and queso decisions turn into tight pants before you know it.

Next week I am leaving on a solo motorcycle trip up the Blue Ridge Parkway. I am hoping for clarity and adventure. And cheating death, of course! Doing life...one day at a time.

Gauntlet thrown.

Today I had a chance to speak to a group of leaders across North Carolina that work with teenagers. I don't know what qualifies me to have a forum with them, but I was asked to do it and I gladly said yes. The group was warm, welcoming, open, and fun. Perfect.

People ask me what I talk to groups about and I don't really have an answer. And I rarely have a plan. But what always ends up happening is group therapy. I love group therapy. But only with strangers.

A woman today, affirmed that I am not the only one. After we did an exercise in which I asked everyone to share their struggles (in an effort for them to realize they are not alone) I asked the group how it felt. And one woman said:

"Since I don't know anyone here, it felt good. I don't think I would have shared if people here knew me."

WHAT? Shouldn't it be the opposite? Is this why bloggers write their true feelings but can't share the same issues with the people they love? Is this why we hide behind computer screens and anonymous comments? Is this why I don't answer the phone but I immediately answer a text?

The strange fact is that we are more open with people that don't know us. And I think it's because the stakes aren't so high. I can get in front of a room of strangers and admit my struggles with weight and loneliness and criticism pretty openly. I can do this because I won't see most of those people ever again. But with my closest friends, I am still trying to be completely self-reliant. No needs. No issues. No problems.

Does anyone else see how messed up this is? There is an easy answer! Unfortunately, all of us have to commit to change. I am finding my friend circles are getting smaller and smaller as I get older. I wasn't prepared for this. But I think the reason is, as we get older, we know the types of friendships we don't want, and the types that we need. And the types that we need are VERY hard to find.

I want to be more open. Not just on a blog. With people that love me. And I want to be known. So if you know me, don't let me get away with it. Gauntlet thrown.

Your move. Challenge accepted?

Motorcycle Therapy

A few fun facts about riding a motorcycle that maybe no one has ever told you:

1. There's a cool secret hand sign from biker to biker. But don't give it to scooters. You'll just embarrass yourself.
2. Bugs can smack into at any time, in any spot. Even between your sunglasses and your eyeball. I know from experience.
3. Even when it's 97 degrees out, you have nature's air conditioning when you're going 60 miles an hour.
4. Bruce Springsteen and late 80s/early 90s hair bands make for the best road music.
5. You learn to love your true self more and more each time you ride. More on that below.

Thumbs up for jean vests!

We all spend WAY too much time trying to live up to other people's standards. We also spend WAY too much time measuring ourselves as compared to others. We don't do it on purpose, it just happens that way. And it happens a little more each day until one day, maybe when you're in you're late 30s, you realize:

This is stupid. And I won't do it anymore.

On the outside looking in, my dad might be right: owning a motorcycle could be one of the five worst decisions one could make in life. But on the inside looking out, it has allowed me to be me in a cool new way. It's that freedom I always

The night before a ride, I just google map some place
random. Today, Hyco Lake won. And it is beautiful.

talk about and my friends laugh with me about.

Whenever I see a motorcyclist, I point at them and say "Look! Freedom!" And I really, really, mean it. Something happens to you when you allow yourself to be who you are, even in fun ways like owning a motorcycle. This purchase has helped me to stop measuring my worth as compared to others.

I like motorcycles and Bravo TV and hoodies and video games and Cameron Crowe movies and embarrassing myself in public so other people feel more comfortable. I am a weird person. But in the beautiful way that weird is wonderful. I know for a fact that we are all different for a bigger purpose that one day, we will all know. But I hope most of us don't wait until our late 30s to give ourselves permission to be uniquely ourselves. 

Ride on, dudes.

Getting lost on purpose.

Second Empire. Best. Restaurant. Ever.

May has been a busy month. My parents visited for a weekend, my friend Tyler visited for a weekend, I turned a year older, and my motorcycle has become the most unexpected game changer (but if you ask my dad his opinion, owning a motorcycle is "one of the five worst decisions you could make in your life." Not sure of the other four, but I'll keep you posted.)

I turned 39 this year. To be 39 and single is so weird. There aren't a lot of people out there like me. I don't feel like I have a demographic. My Facebook feed is now filled with my friends' posts about kids and marriage and at-home businesses and parenting advice. Meanwhile, I post pictures of secret bookshelf doors and pinball arcades.

Bucket list for Barb.

I wish I had been okay in my own skin when I was 19. Or 29. Or 35. It took me a while to be ok with being different. I lived too many years trying to prove my worth. Trying to fit into a mold that never made sense to me.

I fully realize it's weird to own a motorcycle at this stage in my life. But for the first time ever, I have the confidence to just...not care if I'm weird. Growing older is scary, but there is a freedom in it that I didn't expect.

I saw the importance this weekend of getting lost on purpose. So I did. I got lost in Zebulon, Smithfield, Middlesex, Henderson, and a few other points in between. I got so lost in thought it was this deep realization that it is 100% ok to be who I am and to be different than the friends on my Facebook feed.

Whenever I see a motorcycle I yell out "Freedom!" But that took on a whole new meaning to me this week. It has become an outlet of freedom for me. An excuse to get lost. A reason to forget my phone and my schedule and my insecurities.

Imagine if we lived our lives out by God's unique design for us than by the world's impossible design for us. If that's not freedom, I don't know what is!

Getting lost in Smithfield...

...at "Popeye's Gas and Grill." And yes, that is a jean jacket vest.

And of course...the secret door for your viewing pleasure...

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