|| If Yeh Had Teh Chance to Chenge Yer Fate, Woodjyer? ||

Sitting in a Starbucks.

Get a million texts at once.

All about tying up loose ends in Atlanta. 

Heartbeat quickens.

Brow furrows.

Frown appears.

Shoulders tighten.

This was my every day. 

This is why I left. 

________________________________________________________

I've been thinking lately about waiting awhile before telling people I moved away. Then I realized if I post a picture, say anything about being in Florida, or if anyone from Atlanta asks me to meet up, everyone will find out very soon that I'm not living there any more. So I figured I would tell everyone the best way I know how - write a ridiculous blog post about it and answer all of the expected questions before they're even asked. Boom.

Honestly, it's no one's business why I had to leave. It shouldn't matter and I should be able to say plainly "it wasn't working out" and move on... and most importantly, have the person understand that that's exactly what happened. It didn't work out. No assumptions necessary. I did not get fired. I loved the area. I really liked the people. I really want to move back.

But it didn't work out.

[[Pause. Even as I type this, there is a VERY loud man on a phone sitting right next to me. I have my noise-canceling headphones in trying to listen to Jack Johnson and I can hear almost word-for-word his conversation. (Yo. It's 2015. Screaming into the phone just means you're screaming into the phone and the ear of the person on the other line. They cannot hear you any better. Just... SSSHH.) And I have no reason to be upset. But my anxiety is still on such a Red Alert that this is making me more upset than it needs to. He has every right to be on the phone and loudly smack his defrosted, precooked-egg-and-some-sort-of-fragrant-veggie flat bread sandwich.]]

See? I'm not bitter or lashy-outy.

This is what stress does to me. This is what it means for me to be stressed and anxious. I become robo-bitch and just meander my way through life, waiting for the next awful thing to happen, and then take my frustration out on my poor momma.

When in reality, my life kind of rocks.

My life rocks for many reasons.

I have a loving, comfortable home to come back to. I have an amazing support group behind me literally every single step and obstacle I have faced recently. (Thanks, guys. You know who you are.)

I don't have much of it, but I have money to buy food and clothes. I have what I need.

Life in Atlanta just didn't work out.

Plainly stated? I'm not cut out for a career in personal training. My life sucked when I tried it for a short 7 weeks. Sucked. Eggs. It was awful. I could go into detail about it, but honestly it doesn't matter anymore.

Here's what I learned: 

The stigma of the perfect body is alive and well. And detrimental to people like me.

It's expensive to move. It's expensive to survive.

Working 45 hours a week and waking up at 4:30am can only get you so far in life before you crash.

A few really good people who you connect with is more important than a bunch of people who you get along with on the surface.



So

I changed my path

just like that. 

The immense signs from the universe that a life and career in the fitness industry were clearly received over and over again. So I have decided to follow my heart and not my head for once. 

My head has always said that I love wellness and fitness. And I do. I really do. But I love it for me. I don't love it for a job or a career. I'm grateful for my experience because without it, I wouldn't have started down my path where I belong. I feel powerful in the gym. I feel confident (sometimes). I feel like I'm benefiting myself (and others when I'm training). But the gym isn't my home. It's not where I belong 30-40 hours a week. It's where I belong for my stress-relief. It's where I belong for recovery. It's where I feel like I can shut out the world and focus on me. 

So then, where do I belong?

I belong in the classroom. 

I belong among children.

I belong behind a book, showing pictures.

I belong in front of class with an Expo marker in my hand.

I belong right next to a student when they finally understand something.

I belong grading sweet handwriting and misspelled words. 

I am a teacher. I have always been.

A classroom.

That's where I'm home. 

Something I denied to myself and others for a very long time is that I am a natural teacher. And it's where I truly belong. I made every excuse in the book that I don't want to be under the school board, I don't want to deal with idiotic parents, I don't want the emotional stress of knowing three of my kids are going home to no food, and I don't want to live on a teacher's paycheck. 

And then one day, I just said "yeah well, it's worth it".

I kept saying over and over that this is not definite. It's not permanent. I'm not even certified yet. If I haven't taught in an actual school yet, how do I know? 

Something in my bones knows. In my cells. 

This feels more right than any personal training job or wellness job or anything I've ever thought of doing.

[[Reality Check]] If I start the process of certification and I realize hard and fast that this is, in fact, not the path I'm supposed to take, then it won't be. I'll figure it out. But that's the adventure, right?

If you know me well at all, you know somehow I always return to kids or teaching or counseling or something. I can't stay away from kids for long before I start to get antsy. And after teaching at a curriculum-based summer camp at a museum for eight years, I'm pretty sure I have an idea of what it's all about. 

So what am I doing with my life? I'm enhancing it. I'm making it a happy life. I'm making it a life of enjoyment and passion. I'm not concerned with large amounts of money. Family and friends and passion. That's what makes happiness. I'm not remaking my story, I'm simply adding a very short chapter and moving on to the next adventure. In this moment of clarity, which will likely go away the moment I close my laptop after writing this, I am content with the way my life has unfolded in the past few months. Things have happened the way they were supposed to. Everything is going to be alright. It will. The universe is just saying "Hey, this way instead. It's better. Trust me." So for once, I'm listening. And I can't wait to report what unfolds next.

_____________________________________________

On my way home to Florida last night, I cried a lot. So much has happened that's just plain not fair the past few months. It's not fair. I have come dangerously close to throwing a tantrum like a three year old far too many times.

I didn't make myself cry. I let the emotions come when they wanted to. Once the tears came, they didn't stop.

After I queued up some great "cry songs" on my phone and let myself release, I was driving through a horrible storm. Like black skies, should-pull-over, awful storm. And through puffy eyes, a dribbly nose, and fatigue quickly setting in, I was thinking about what to do with my life. Then I heard myself say something.

"Just be here. Just be present."

I learned the hard way that no matter the amount of "what ifs" you reel through your head, the universe has vastly different plans. Your what ifs aren't going to do a damn thing but distract you from the journey you're on.  

We all have times that our patience is tried, our trust is shaky, our hearts are broken, or our souls are just plain tired. We are all going through shaky times at some point. Keep this in mind when you're interacting with someone who might be going through a tough time. You don't know their story. Even if you did, you're not the one experiencing it. When you're going through a rough time, it's not an excuse to be mean or rude or lack patience. Your bad mood is contagious. So smile through the pain. Fake it till you make it. 

If smiles were worth points, those points add up eventually. And eventually, you won't have to fake it anymore.

It's never too late to change paths. Some times are harder than others, but that doesn't mean you can't be happy. You deserve to be happy. 

You deserve that. 

We all do.

|| An Insta-Sabbatical ||

“Oh my god, I wish I could bend like that.”

“You look fantastic! How did you do it?!”

“Now you make me want to go for a run too!”

When I first started making fitness and yoga videos on Instagram, it wasn’t to get followers. It wasn’t to get Likes. I started making them because I wanted to motivate my friends to work out, get healthier, etc. And my friends all wanted to know how I had lost weight. When I became a certified personal trainer, I had the credentials to be posting stuff. And to be frank, it was for my own validation too. I would think to myself, “I DID that!”, “Go me!”, or “Wow look how skinny I am!”

That last one rings loud. 

“Look how skinny I am.”

And then I see myself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, squeezing my extra fat until I have red marks. I think to myself all the time, 

“I hate this fat. I hate feeling tired. Why can’t it be easier? Why do I have to fight against my genetics? Wait, I used to see my ribs when I took my shirt off. Why can’t I see my ribs anymore??” 

And when I fall off the wagon of maintaining my fitness level, whether or not it’s my fault, it’s a crash and burn when I see myself in a mirror.

So I just filmed my very last Instagram video (for now).

 

The thing about eating disorders is that you can’t always tell physically if the person is suffering. Disordered eating patterns come from the mind, not the body. The often show themselves through the body but are first and foremost a disordered thinking pattern.

I have always been really up front about my struggles with my eating habits and thoughts surrounding food. And through the fitness videos, in hopes of inspiring people to just get up and get moving, I was able to hide those struggles. If you look at my Instagram account, @erinlynnfitness, you will find video clips of my own workouts, healthy recipes, and plenty of healthy (and some not-so-healthy) indulgences. What you don’t see is the stress of my life.

What you don’t see are the hours (yes, literally hours) of looking, re-looking, editing, and re-editing the pictures and videos of myself, cutting out bad angles, all parts where you can see tummy rolls, arm flab, cellulite, etc. Don’t get me wrong, many of them I was proud to post. I would have one of two reactions… 

“I look like THAT?! Wow! I’ve come a long way! I love this body!” 

or

“I need to work on my arms. Ugh look at that belly hanging over those leggings…how did I not feel that flab? I need to go run another mile tomorrow. No dessert for me. What meal can I skip next? CAN I skip a meal? That’s stupid. I need to wear baggier clothing, then no one will know I don’t have a six pack of abs. I call myself a personal trainer?” 

And that’s in the span of about 30 seconds… 

And the first reaction is rare.

I struggle with hating how my body looks and loving what it does. How miraculous are these cool, awkward things we get to experience this life in?! And then we go and bash them? For what? So we can all look like those people in the tabloids who wear four Spanx at a time, eat plain spinach and half a can of tuna and wash it down with lemon and mint-infused water, and go to yoga for three hours a day...and THEN be Photoshopped like a... well, like a celebrity.

I am posting my last video today. Because of my food allergies that I’ve recently discovered, I haven’t been able to work out as often as I am used to because I’ve been in a constant state of reaction or inflammation, so my body kinda sorta hates me. Making it run for three miles is literally the last thing I want to do. So I’ve gained a ton of weight (at least for me it’s a lot). And I need to focus on not only getting back in physical shape, but getting my head out of these awful thought patterns. This is a sabbatical for my brain and my heart, and subsequently my body.Watching myself on video doesn't help. And I need to get my mind right before I get my body right before I give pointers to others about how to live a healthy life. I'm not a good example right now, other than recognizing what I'm doing to myself by these thought patterns.

Eliminating body shaming is something I feel passionate about. And if I want to try and help be one of the millions of people silencing the fat-talk, I need to start with me. How hypocritical I am to feel passionately about something when I can’t get a handle on it for myself. And I hate that. I don’t want to feel fake or like I’m putting on a show or masking the issues I’m dealing with. They’re real. They’re raw. They’re hard. But they’re mine. They’re mine to battle with, work with, and learn to cope with. I may never be completely “cured” of disordered eating patterns or body shaming. But what I can be completely cured of is the thought that I can’t do it. If I always have the idea in my mind that “I can”, then I can and I will.

Struggles are going to come and go in all of our lives. Just when we think we’re on Cloud 9 and we’re in tip top shape in every corner of our amazing lives, something will bring us down to earth. Something will happen to test our faith in ourselves, humanity, the universe. But if we have the mindset of “I can and I will”, that something will be but a blip in our lives. A mere pebble in the road.

Right now I need to work on getting the boulder out of my own winding road. I need to work on buying a pickax and chipping away at my boulder, eventually making it a sandy, soft spot in the road that I can just walk right over, wiggling my toes in, and moving on toward the scenic overviews and beautiful sights of my own life.Will there be "CAUTION: FALLING ROCKS" signs occasionally? You bet your ass there will be. Will I be prepared to look for falling rocks? Sometimes yes, and sometimes no. But that's the excitement of life. Sometimes we're not prepared. And our ability to get through those moments is when our true strength shows through.

|| You are immensely stronger than you imagine ||

I want to help people to get healthier, whether that’s through coaching, inspiring quotes, healthy recipes, or just listening to their story. But in order to do that, I need to have a better mindset for myself. I can’t help anyone if I can’t see down my own road.

So as I sit here in my new loft in my new house in my new city, sweaty from my 0.6 mile run and my 20 mins of yoga, I feel relieved. No, I'm not as healthy as I once was. Yes I have gained weight. But I'm still the same strong character that I always was. Just having a major setback is something I'll look back on and be proud of overcoming.

I can hear the hum of a lawnmower downstairs, I’m listening to some meditation music, and watching some red robins flit in and out of the woods right behind my house. In this moment, I feel like I can finally face this challenge that I have been dealt.

We all have crap that comes back to haunt us occasionally. It’s life. What makes us warriors is that we aren’t afraid to face it again and again and again. Hopefully every time we have to face it, the struggle becomes easier. And the outcome becomes more rewarding.

And for good measure...

|| You are immensely stronger than you imagine ||