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

Private struggles in a public world.

Do you ever think how crazy it is that you see a new person you've never seen before almost every single day? I mean, how many people are really out there that can invade my routine life on a daily basis? That's nuts.

What's also nuts is that every one of us is fighting some private battle that most of us aren't willing to share. It used to feel so crazy to me that people are so afraid of sharing. Nowadays, I understand why.

It's not until you go through significant life change that you understand the fear of vulnerability. It's not until you experience deep shame that you question your ability to be open with the people that love you. For me, that change has been tackling my weight issues. That has always been my most private struggle in the most public of ways.

Unlike other addictions, it's pretty impossible to hide food addiction. You literally wear it on your body. And it can become a physical barrier to insulate and isolate yourself from others. Tackling it over the past few years has left me almost naked in a way. Open to heartbreak like I would never allow before.

That kind of edge-standing is terrifying. But it has also given me compassion for a world that isn't willing to go there. Because lately, I haven't been willing to go there. It hurts. It's a wound. It's a risk. And I have never been a risk taker.

I am reminded to be kind to strangers. And to be kinder to the people I love and that love me. Because all of us are fighting some private battle that most of us aren't willing to share. The question is: who are we willing to let in?

Ben does life.

In 2011 I stumbled upon this video about a guy named Ben. In 2009, he weighed over 300 pounds. By the end of 2010, he had lost 120 pounds. Watch this:

Ben got a book deal. Had a big blogger following with "Ben Does Life." Inspired thousands of people. Found love. Pursued his passion for writing.

But that was in 2011.

Ben now weighs over 350 pounds. More than when he started his journey in the beginning. Most of us wonder "how?" How could this inspirational guy that publicly documented his journey and wrote a book about weight loss gain it all back and then some? In fact, most of us would write it off as a failure, if we're being honest.

But guess what? Ben still has a blog. He is still working on it. He is still doing life.

See weight loss blogs come and go. I can't tell you how many blogs I used to follow of people with successful stories that are now...gone. No posts since last year. Or the year before. Or the blog was taken down because I guess it's just too hard to be public if you fail. Sure, the success is worth sharing, but the failure...

But Ben is doing life. He is doing life because he knows that the failure is worth sharing. Failure doesn't mean falling. Failing means not giving up. And this dude hasn't given up. His blog is gut wrenching for me because I can share his emotions on depression and loneliness. Weight loss and weight gain. It is so awesome to watch the scale numbers go down and the clothes get baggy. It is so devastating to watch the opposite happen. But ultimately, the opposite does happen. For so many people. Then, try doing that while the world is watching!

Just because we fail, it doesn't make us a failure. It's an event, not a person. It's temporary, not permanent. It's a thing, not a condition. The past few months have been great for me. I have a great friend holding me accountable and my eating has been on point and I am getting stronger again after surgery. I am down about 18 pounds since February. This is a wave that I will ride as hard as I can. But when the failure wave comes (and it will), I am going to take a page out of Ben's book and just do life. Keep moving. Keep getting back up.

Failure is an event, not a person.

-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

The B word

I was at a work event last night. It was a silent auction for charity. All was going great until I realized the food situation. You guessed it. The B word.

Buffet.

I have never set foot in a Golden Corral. Thankfully. But when I see a buffet, even hear the word buffet, my mind starts to spin. And last night it was definitely filled with questions. What will they have? Is there anything I can eat? How big are the plates? Will people go back more than once? What about dessert, is that a separate line? If there is salad, will they only have ranch as an option?

The B word makes me feel all the feelings.

I had this moment. And it's embarrassing, but I am not too ashamed to admit it. I saw someone's plate who had returned from the buffet and I think I was staring, drooling, and maybe even had a little chin quiver going on. This lady was double fisting a plate of chicken fingers, chicken salad, meatballs, cheesy something or other and another plate of cake on top of pie on top of banana pudding.

And so it was one of those defining moments. Do I throw my goals out the window momentarily to take a plunge into the B word, or do I find a way to let the moment pass and make healthy choices?

I passed the chicken fingers and the meatballs and the cheesy something and luckily found a vegetable tray and shrimp and some chicken salad that wasn't drowned in mayonnaise. And if you don't struggle with food, it's ok that you are shaking your head and judging my overreactions. But if you do struggle with food, you can relate to this situation. An alcoholic at a bar. A drug addict with some old friends. A food addict in a buffet line.

Will it ever get easier to make food decisions in social situations?  My big take away from last night is to just pause. To use my brain and think about my goals. These small decisions make a big difference in my heart and in my waistline. So I have to think if I keep choosing the right way, this too shall pass.

"Know what you're worth."

My friend asked me last week "Are you still doing your blog?" Yes and no, was my response. I told her that I felt like I ran out of things to say. But the truth is, I need to expand the conversation.

A few weeks ago I started driving for Uber. Since the night time is my worst time for eating and staying on track, I thought this would be a good way to make extra money and help me to not eat Sour Patch Kids while watching excessive amounts of Bravo TV.

It's been really crazy. The people are hilarious. I tweet all the funny things they say and do (you should check it out). Occasionally, I have poignant moments with my Uber riders. Like last night.

I was driving two girls in grad school into downtown Raleigh. They were both in "friends with benefits" relationships with two guys that coincidentally, blew them off last night. In typical Uber fashion, they asked me for advice. And I said "The best advice I can give you is to know what you're worth. You have to teach people how to treat you."

Good advice for those two girls, right? Better advice for me.

The past two weeks something shifted in my brain. See, I have always equated relaxation time with food. Hand in hand. At the end of the day, or at the end of the week, food is my reward. If I am going out to dinner with friends, I focus on the dinner not the friends. If I am watching a movie, I focus on the snacks, not the movie. If it's a birthday party, I wonder what kind of cake we are having and not how old the person is turning.

Food is my addiction, so it does enter into every part of my life. For the better part of the year I have been falling in and out of my addiction. Good days and bad days. Tossed about by the wind. Or my day. Or my mood.

So two weeks ago I decided to restart. For the hundredth time. I decided to realize what I'm worth. I am watching food documentaries, and eating clean, and started with a new trainer, and weighing in, and doing all the things that I know brought me success when I started.

When in doubt, start over. I am not going to flirt with disaster anymore. I am focusing on my worth, and knowing that I am worth it. And I will stop and smell the donuts, but not devour them.

-Liz