I am sure I’ve mentioned it before, but I live in the city I grew up in. Not the next city over, not the next county, but the city. Having only left for college (only to return when I got tired of bouncing around schools) and travel, I sometimes get strange reactions from people. Somehow this is viewed as a drawback, and I can see why. I have had friends that grew up in very small towns and very large cities and couldn’t wait to leave. It wasn’t for them. But the thing about my city? It is so for me. While it is definitely not the only place on Earth I could be happy, I am so happy I’m here.

A lot of people dread being in their hometown. They don’t like seeing the same people, or people from the past. I may be the only person in the world who doesn’t mind that, but I don’t. And I went to school with people who went on to become professional athletes and rocket scientists, so I don’t have the most impressive story by far. I am merely happy where I am. I like my people.

Having recently passed two years since I started working on my own and spending very little time in offices and with in-person coworkers, I think I value my community even more. I’ve had to push further to be social, really. I’ve had to look for friends and acquaintances in new places, simply to have people to talk with. It sounds kind of silly, but the social, chatty part of me was never at a loss for an available ear in an office and so I never thought of how tough it would be on me for that to change. So I’ve made my office in other places in my community, and it continues to surprise me.

A lot of times I think people view staying in one place as limiting yourself, and in some ways it can. (I fully endorse travel.) But I think that limit is only in one way. Horizontally, I’ll say. There is this pressure to always keep reaching and reaching out while never getting deeper. Having to adjust to a life wherein I did not have standard issue friends like I did in an office (I was very lucky, I realize not all coworkers make good friends), I appreciate a lot more that I can become even more ingrained right where I am. I didn’t exactly try for that before; it was a default of working with other good humans. I had good friends, good interests, things I loved, and so pushing for more wasn’t really a necessity before. I didn’t have a huge need to be open to making my life even more full.

Looking back now, that was so silly, because allowing your life to become even more full is such a gift. And this city continues to surprise me.

After my last post, I thought more about having a blog. I thought about how much I like it, and I thought about how I really love to write, even if it is about the inconsequential and boring a lot of the time. And then I went a while where I didn’t think about it at all, which is kind of nice too. And then I really decided, YES, it is something I must have in my life again.

Then I actually made a decision! I decided on a new site. Because it is fun and I like fun. And it is different and I like different. And because we evolve and although right now saying you evolve through a blog or whichever kind of new (ish) form of communication you use sounds weird to a lot of people, I really believe that decades from now we’ll look back and say, ah, yes, this is how I evolved. Because I was alive and not 80 years old in the year 2011.

And then the URL I wanted wasn’t available. Even though it was available a couple months ago, when I first began thinking about it. And this URL is my name, and so then I’m forced to accept that there are other people on the planet. For real.

So now here I sit again, wondering what to do. Don’t you just hate it when you can’t change and evolve exactly how you plan? The nerve.

I have other ideas, though, and right now I’m actually traveling and somehow that allows my mind to open up a little more. Well, once I got OUT of the car and into a bed, my mind opens up more. Those fifteen hours, mostly across Nebraska and Iowa were not where my mind opened up. In fact, there were a couple times when I could have shut down altogether in that journey had it not been for a couple crucial factors, like coffee and comedy radio on Pandora. And one day I will write the story of how comedy and the technology of 3G saved my life.

But for now, I’m still a little indecisive. I want to choose something that will allow me to evolve within it, and so I don’t have to drive myself a little mad with making these unimportant and yet heavy decisions of URL choices. And decades from now, that may very well be more important than we think. Especially when I have to explain to my grandchildren (or some children that are young enough to be my grandchildren) what a URL was and why Granny Lesley was so concerned with the inconsequential, and how that’s how you get people to roll their eyes. Which, really, is kind of what life is all about.

Make a few enemies, let them roll their eyes, at least you stood up for something. And, by golly, buy your URL when it crosses your mind and don’t wait 8 weeks. Amen.

I have outgrown this site. Or grown past it. Or something like that.

I think about writing a lot, and I come up with ideas I want to talk about, but this doesn’t feel like the right space. Which isn’t to say I am onto something new and incredible. It’s more like a shoe that doesn’t quite fit any more.

So I’ve been thinking. Most of the time, I want a new site. Somewhere that’s more general and more me and more something. And then sometimes I am not sure that is necessary. It’s only the friends I’ve made and the constant idea (and potential) for community that keep me coming back. And can’t that happen no matter what? The relationships are for good.

I don’t know if I’m meant to have a blog anymore. So many people do, and I’m impressed by how they use their sites now. Which doesn’t seem to be me, even if it was once. But for now, I’m just letting it sit. If it’s not action that helps me find my way, then maybe it will be stillness.

Thank you very much to everyone who sent comments and messages of support last week. It was a tough week made a little lighter knowing love was being sent from all over. The Internet is cool.

In fact, if it weren’t for the Internet, I am not sure I’d be aware of anything, ever. I mean news, of course, and also every other good thing going on in the country, the world.

April is poetry month, and luckily enough of my Internet friends knew this, which means I now know it. I don’t write poetry regularly, but I am one to like a challenge, and to stretch a little, so I thought I’d try it today. Out of thin air. No planning. Sounds smart, right?

The phone rings out of nowhere

with that much I’ve become familiar.

Now I somehow know not to predict

as what happens does without my explaining it.

I answer without trying to imagine why or how;

I sit and talk, living in the now.

I hear things I like, and some I do not

but I know now not to give it a thought.

It seems I’ve grown in this time, and you too;

now we know it’s not what you say, but what you DO.

I think of the me before, not as real or open;

I don’t know how I made it through, mostly unbroken.

Always wondering how you didn’t get sick of me;

meanwhile giving us all plenty of reasons to be.

But now I know, that is what it’s all about;

the lists of reasons in my head aren’t as important as I thought.

So now I answer that call, knowing how long the road has been,

and never more grateful that we are friends.

Wheee! Poetry is fun.

I think it’s normal to dream. I do it all the time. When I was a kid, I would dream of impossible (for me) things like inventing boots that would allow you to jump onto the tops of buildings. I still think that would be really cool. If anyone knows of boots like that, please direct me to the link. I hope they have them at DSW!

Now, though, I dream of things I consider a little more necessary for my life. Which is sort of a strange thing to say, considering I sit here in a warm home, safe, while three wars are going on and millions of people are displaced from their homes. But as one of us, the fortunate ones, I also know now that dreams can be what puts us into action, the thing that makes us work harder to discover our place and purpose— or to allow it to be revealed to us.

One of my purposes, I know, is to have people around me. That may not sound like a true purpose, but I know I work and live best when not just my life but my actual presence is full of others. I do spend time alone and I enjoy it, but when I compare it to a house full of people and life, alone never wins.

This is hard for an unmarried person with no kids and one dog. The opportunity to be alone is presented a lot more often than not. So I find myself working hard to make my life and home a place that welcomes others. I have spent the last year doing minor renovations in my small house, and every time I made a decision I found myself asking “how many people can I fit in this space?” Because that’s what I dream of— a space packed with people I care about, family, friends new and old.

My current house, though small, does this okay. The kitchen and dining area are open to one another, which allows for more gathering space in the area where, cliche as it is, people always end up.  What I dream of, though, is a kitchen that feels like more than a kitchen. A kitchen with cooking space and eating space and sitting-around-eating-and-talking-until-we-cannot-move-and-are-too-tired-to-care space.

I know it’s very Western American to want a big space. I know people that live in large cities only dream of a kitchen with more than a square foot of counter space, but I can’t help it. I want everyone I know to be able to fit into my kitchen, and that includes half of the Internet.

And here are some of the “rules” I’ve created for this imaginary space in which my life can be lived:

1. It cannot be too fancy.

I’ll start by saying that, no, I’m not turning my site into a blog about religion, or solely my religion. Trust me, I have less than zero interest in debating theology with anyone at this point in my life. It’s still me writing here, though, and I still have my last posts on my mind, mostly due to a couple of emails I received. I am not sure why, but as I’ve told the story of the woman who yelled to me while I was running, telling me “God would catch me,” there are people who don’t agree with my reaction. (I didn’t say anything to the woman at the time, and later felt myself even having compassion for the whole thing.)

I am not sure I had a lot of other choices, though. I mean, did I? Could I have yelled back, “God does not have to chase me!”? Could I have somehow put her in her place? Could I still have said nothing but then went home and steamed over the whole thing? I could have done all of that. But all of that, well, none of it would have made any difference in how I felt. The sooner you treat something with a little compassion, the sooner you give people (yourself) a break, the sooner it’s out of your head. And I am all for not allowing unimportant things to take up space in my brain.

I am also all for love. To me it’s either where you’re coming from, or not. Yes, it’s a choice, and no it doesn’t mean you love things that are awful or evil, it simply means that love is what defines you. Not them, you. And so that’s how you orchestrate your behavior.

It takes practice, but when you do it, there are a couple of really great benefits. Okay, there are a lot of benefits, but two are immediately noticeable. First, as I mentioned, it frees up space in your brain. You don’t have to think about it. You don’t have to stew over things, give yourself a hard time, second guess yourself. You can let go. Simple, no-cost, liberation.

Second, you become a great detector of others with the same approach. A love detective. It’s a sort of sixth sense you have with people. Not everyone can see it, but to you, it’s glaringly obvious (or lacking). Sometimes, it’s those really crafty, talky people—the ones we feel uneasy with and don’t know why—and, just like that, you can see it. They’re not hiding anything from you. Other times, the most fun times, you can see it in people who can’t even see it in themselves. Maybe they don’t want to admit it, even. But you’ll be able to tell, because of their words or their work ethic or how they treat strangers, and a hundred other less obvious things. You’ll see it, because really, all you’re looking for is one thing: love.

And a third thing, which I’m really glad I thought of but not enough to go back and rearrange the content of this post, is that everything after you’ve seen or not seen love, after you’ve shown or not shown love, is easier. Decisions about people, opportunities, actions, all leaps and bounds easier. Of course I don’t have scientific proof, this is all my opinion, but I like when things are easier, and love does that.

It is just like me, the part of me that likes to write on her blog, to come in all excited with resolutions and first-of-the-year posts and then go away for two weeks.  It has been a big two weeks, though. Big by my standards, anyway. For instance, there is now a Starbucks drink size that is bigger than even my own bladder, which is not difficult to achieve as anyone who’s been on a road trip with me will attest to.  And though I’m hardly one to blog immediately (if ever) about current events, it seems weird to have lived through the last couple weeks both as me and as an American and say that it hasn’t all been just a little overwhelming.

Being me isn’t relatively hard, of course, but over the last couple weeks of this still very new year, I’ve had to really think hard about what I want for my life. Which is not that different than other people, I understand. Many people of all ages have to tackle this, but there is still always that part of me nagging at me saying, “Really” At thirty-one this is your plan? This is your reality?” And I just have to step back, take a deep breath and say yes, yes it is.

Whether it is because of or in spite of the events that go on around you, at some point you have to either choose to ignore your instincts or get to know them closely and personally so much so that everything else fades to the background. While I cannot necessarily spell everything out here, I will say that making decisions that make others wonder, but meanwhile could very well be the thing that determines a trajectory for the rest of my life has been a very self-defining moment. I have this feeling in my gut that could be mistaken for nerves but that I know is much more than that.

It isn’t easy, it isn’t perfect, and it’s perhaps more frightening the further I get down the road, but it is also reassuring. I know right now, more than ever, that I am me. I am not everyone else. I have my own path, there is a plan just for me, and that I do not have these feelings and thoughts and dreams for no reason. While I’ve never really tried to convince anyone else I’m not crazy, what surprises me most is how much I’ve had to tell myself that about… well, myself.

So while I apologize at the vagueness here as it applies to my day-to-day life and plans, I also hope there’s a more prominent point. I hope that the idea that when YOU know what YOU are meant to be doing, when that feeling hits you and you research it and you practice it and you strive toward it, the moment comes when you realize it all happened because you trusted your instincts, your gut.

It must be independent from time lines, and ideals, and estimates of effort. It must be based on faith, opinions of a very select few (if even that), and a whole lot of willingness to do a lot of thinking, planning, and trying in the face of what may seem unreachable to anyone else.

I would never be so pompous to share something like this as advice, but a handful of times I have had someone tell me that something I did in my own life and then put on the Internet helped a person feel okay about their own instincts, and in turn that is something that always helps me. Whether we learn something for the first time, or are reminded of something we’ve always known, that stream should always be flowing.

…to say hello, actually. Not goodbye. (Any Mickey Mouse Clubbers out there?) Because we’re getting ready around these parts. For company, family, friends. For cooking and more baking and gift wrapping like it’s my job, grateful procrastinator that I am.

But I’m not ready to sign off just yet. Not without first saying THANK YOU!  Thank you to everyone who read, commented, and/or sent emails in support of my recent posts on weight and body image. You have reminded me that if you feel the need to share something, to say it, that no matter the scale or who you may or not reach, you should always share. I’m reminded that I do know what’s good, and that I should always trust that feeling that says “share this.”

Which brings me to this: there are things we should always do, right?  As there are things we should never do.  A great blogging friend of mine, Barb, mentioned this recently, and I responded on her post with my Always and Nevers:

Always: Listen more than you talk; Go outside if it’s a sunny day; Play with the dog even if you’re tired.

Never: Apologize for eating dessert; Believe people have enough time to think about your faults; Get completely comfortable.

And now I’d add, always be grateful for the progress of the world of technology that has allowed for social interaction with people I likely never would’ve met otherwise; Internet friends.

Do you have any Always and Nevers? I’d love to read them!

And from my house to yours, I hope you have the happiest, most blessed of Christmases, or Saturdays as your case may be.

The following are the last parts in a series of posts about weight, losing weight, and body image.  It is mostly my experience, in the frame of my own life and body, and in the frame of the people around me, many of them sharing similar feelings and experiences. It is not meant as professional advice, nor is it meant to be preachy. The words and information I share here have changed my life and made me a happier, healthier person, and all it took was for me to try to be ready; to practice.

Thank you for letting me share.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

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Part 6- Moving Forward

Moving beyond is another animal, though. For so long I was convinced that this thing, this body, this losing weight insanity was a task. Something to do. How then, could I not think about it? How could I not analyze my choices and actions and judge myself? To say you’re changing a thought process is one thing, but to flip to simply not thinking those thoughts at all, well that was completely foreign. I might as well go learn a new language. How about Latin?

But it was strange. Like quitting my job in the months before, I realized just the simple act of saying you’re leaving something behind opens up the world ahead. It breaks it open, in fact. Suddenly you’re allowed to imagine possibilities that you would not have believed even remotely prior to now. This is how it was for me. It occurred to me that my fifteen pounds might never go away, that I might break out in acne like a teenager, that all my hair could disappear, that I could get cellulite (or, rather, more cellulite), that my teeth could fall out, and I would still be me. And, moreover, that I would still be able to have faith in the life that is waiting for me, the gift that it is, simply because I am here.

All these things I’d always believed—our bigger purposes, the goodness of people, faith, hope, love—I was now seeing in the frame of applying those thoughts to myself first. The way I treat my body, in all ways, is not only a reflection on my belief in its value, but also a direct conduit to the boundaries and limitations in my mind.

Though the feelings were immediate, the actions were less than. It was hard. How did I not go wild with freedom, and yet not restrict myself out of emotion? This was all I was familiar with in recent memory. I couldn’t remember many times, ever, wherein food wasn’t either an indulgence of “who cares!” or an orchestrated meeting to somehow reach a goal. I joke now that I either dined at one of two restaurants:  What the Hell! or Bikini Season. Enjoy cheese? Please.  Yes, cheese is magical but for so long it was either off limits or all. the. way. on. I knew nothing of the balance of cheese in my life.

Which is why I started calling it practice.

Part 7- Practicing

In my early working life, I was employed by doctors, and with the last one I worked for he’d sometimes tell me, “I’m not certain. That’s why they call it practice.” It was profound to me then, in the medical world, because yes! Of course! We don’t know everything, and if the healers of our society are even calling it practice, because of the unknown, well we ought to believe them. The same principle applies to how I approach things now.

It’s practice. It’s cheese, not power. It’s bread, not self-worth. It’s weight, not a life sentence of doing without. Every day, that’s how I approach it. I have dropped weight, yes, and it’s been gradual and a little up and down. I have stepped on a scale about four times in the last eight months. I fit into some clothes, some are too big.  I practice living in the moment of knowing how I really feel, before I consider trying on pants.

I work to maintain balance in my refrigerator, and I try to listen to my body. I don’t limit what’s allowed in my house, but I do work to maintain some harmony. I think of what I ate yesterday, not in respect to how I feel, but simply to shape how I’ll eat today.  I have cooked, gone out to eat, traveled, and had Thanksgiving dinner, all in peace knowing the power of a day or a vacation or a meal lives only in those moments.

And I’m active. I still do the things I have always loved, and I look for new things I might love. I had more fun running outside this fall than I’ve had running in years. I did six months of Bikram yoga 3-4 times a week, just for something new. I’ve hiked with friends, gone swimming with the kids in my family, and biked. I’ve done all this without tracking miles or heart rate or calories burned. I did it for the reasons most of us should do recreational activity: because it’s good for me and I like it. Not so I can eat cake later, because as the Lesley of the thirty years prior to now will prove, I was going to eat the cake either way. Now the difference is I have no strong feelings about it either way. I’m neither guilty nor proud, I just love cake.

Because I’ve practiced this in the most laid-back mentality I’ve probably ever been in, I wasn’t sure it was actually “working” for a while. I mean, who’s to say it was right, even if it was new? Was the freed portion of my brain here to stay? Were those little anchor holes really losing their power?  And then it happened, about a month ago I was standing in my mother’s living room and she turned to look at me and said “You are looking great, you know?” I sort of shrugged my shoulders and said something about maybe losing weight but I wasn’t sure, and she asked if I had lost any, or if I wanted to. “I think so but I don’t know how much,” I’d said, “but either way I can’t ever see myself on any kind of diet ever again.”

And that was it.

I knew in that moment that moving forward, though not easy or at all predictable, I had somehow found a new way of life. It is not altogether perfect, it will never be, but it’s done something no amount of counting and counter-balancing and obsession could ever do, it’s freed me. I’m moving forward from that old way of feeling, that limited way of thinking, that way of treating myself.

I am meant for so much more.

The following is a part in a series of posts about weight, losing weight, and body image.  It is mostly my experience, in the frame of my own life and body, and in the frame of the people around me, many of them sharing similar feelings and experiences. It is not meant as professional advice, nor is it meant to be preachy. The words and information I share here have changed my life and made me a happier, healthier person, and all it took was for me to try to be ready; to practice.

Thank you for letting me share.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

__________

Part 5- On Being Meant For More

Throughout my entire life, for whatever reason, I had not made the connection between a box of cereal and my spiritual beliefs. It even sounds weird, right? But I had never considered that a decision between a few french fries and ALL THE FRENCH FRIES was relevant to what I believed about the value of my being and my soul. I had gone through the better part of my existence on the planet allowing the logic in my brain to be conducted by a seemingly crazed need for carbs, without ever realizing that yes, there had always been enough carbs regardless of how much or little I decided to consume.

When I first considered this, it was shocking. Because isn’t that a blessing in itself? Too many carbs? It occurred to me that even in my hardest times, my weakest moments, I was already being taken care of.

Why couldn’t I take care of myself, too?

Throughout my entire life, I’ve tried to be the kind person. I was taught and learned that this is right, yes, but in my mind kindness makes up for everything. I was not the most popular person, the most talented person, the prettiest person, but I could be genuinely nice to everyone, and that counted for a lot. I wondered, as I came to these conclusions earlier this year, what occurred so that I’d some how skipped myself? I love people, LOVE people, and yet somehow I wasn’t good enough for that same devotion.

It hit me pretty deep, and at the same time, I felt like it was ridiculous. It was huge, surfable waves of sadness and compassion for the me of the past, and then it was a low tide shaking it’s head at the literal silliness of not giving myself the same care and admiration I’d spread so liberally over others.

This is when it occurred to me: I am meant for so much more.

Because there is so much more, right? There is more than numbers and shopping for jeans and thinking about your waist line;  allowing one thing to take over how you feel about everything. When I finally thought about it, I knew. Almost nothing else in life would be allowed to occupy so much space, so why this?

It was a feeling that came over me automatically. While I always knew (and still know) that I’m meant for something, I had never before made the connection that how I was treating myself was the actual, literal road that would lead to that something. This belief went from the thing I think about, and consider to the thing I know. The way we know the wrinkle in someone’s eyes as they squint, the way we know the time of year it is by the way the sun shines through our bedroom window, I began to know this. And I could begin to move beyond the thing that had ruled so much of my life with it’s annoying little anchor holes.

_____

Thanks to everyone who’s read and commented and even sent an email or two with your support.  I had a hard time deciding whether to post this, and where to post it, so the support and feedback means so much to me. Even if it’s just in my own little Internet bubble here, I know I did the right thing. Thank you.

Part 6 still to come… if you can imagine.