An Egg Made Me Write This

Here's an update for everybody who asked for updates on my treatments and my health. After seeing the doctor about three times in Jacksonville, I officially ate a piece of an egg without having any reaction. My elation and relief flooded me so deeply that I nearly started to cry. 

My relationship with food has been a really rocky one, as many of you know by now. I don't keep it a secret because it's a part of me. Pardon the cliche but it has helped shape who I am today, for better or worse. 

When I was 18 I developed an eating disorder and lost about 20 pounds in just a few weeks, and my relationship with food has struggled ever since (too much, too little, too this, too that...) About a year ago I developed a slue of food allergies. I've gone from not wanting to eat anything to eating so much I couldn't taste the food and had to nearly crawl to my bed. Because of my experiences, I want to educate others about how to treat their sweet, beautiful, powerful bodies. So this current journey to  personal health has not only been a very physical one, but it is having a profound affect on me mentally and emotionally too.

My Health and Wellness B.S. degree has taught me a vast amount of information about how to take care of your body, how to spread healthy living principles, and how to create our own mental well-being and the importance of living in a low stress environment. But turning those hours of lectures and notes and research onto yourself is more difficult than you would think. 

Eventually, I got almost total control of my food relationship for a few years. It was amazing. And I felt so free. I can't wait to be back there.

When my food allergies hit last February, I felt like I had completely lost control. I had no choice over what I could and could not eat. Everything hurt. I gained weight, I had to stop exercising, my asthma got so bad I'm on a steroid, dance was put on the back burner, and my fitness level has plummeted to a point where I get sore from yoga; something that used to bring me inner calmness and peace and prayer and wonderful introspective time.

When I started this NAET treatment, I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit skeptical. Even though I was brought up in an incredibly holistic environment, seeing a chiropractor at 2 weeks old and always seeing a naturalist before a western doctor, this new technique seemed kind of far-fetched even for me. But when I read the incredible amount of positive testimonials, saw multiple doctors practicing the same technique, and did a lot of research about this very eastern-based medicine, I knew that it was my only option of complete recovery. I had to give it a chance. 


The first food that they desensitized me too was egg. I was told by another doctor that after seeing my blood test results I probably wasn't going to be able to eat the extreme-sensitivity food ever again. This included cows milk, mushrooms, eggs, gluten, and yeast, among others.

Of course when I stayed away from all of these foods, I felt immensely better. I would go weeks without having the slightest hint of an allergic reaction and then BOOM. I would accidentally eat something wrong and be sick for hours to days.

And yesterday I ate an egg. I ate a cage free, organic, vegetarian fed egg. 

It wasn't the whole egg actually, it was maybe a tablespoon of egg white and a teaspoon of yoke. 

I stared at the pure white little slimy jiggly thing sitting in the Ramekin on my counter. I knew that I very well could be making myself sick by eating this stupid little hard-boiled egg. 

But after the first 20 minutes I felt fine ... and eventually I realized three hours later I felt fine.

No reaction. 

I ate a freakin' egg. 

To someone without food allergies or sensitivities, this feeling cannot be described. This egg, this little protein ball opens so many doors and gives me so much hope. 

My life has been changed by this whole experience. (The allergies, not the egg...) I hope that I'll be able to look back and see that my life has changed positively by this, as difficult as it may be right now. As I'm typing this, I'm looking at how bony, skinny, and dry my hands are - not enough fat. Not enough protein. Not enough of the right nutrients. They look aged. Tired. My whole body is tired. And it shows in my hands. Go figure.

The past 15 months has been a very rough road for me but I am still looking forward to this next year. I know that whether straight or curvy, bumpy or smooth, gravel or asphalt, my road will present lessons that will lead me to live a more fulfilling, easier, happier life.

Roads are funny like that. If we know where we are going, the ride won't seem as intriguing. If we sit back, feel every bump, every unexpected curve, and enjoy the view, we will find something so innate, so primal in ourselves that we often forget to harness.

Trust. 

Trust in ourselves. God. The road. The Universe. Trust that we will be okay.

Our paths will give us incredible life-changing experiences. Whether fun or painful, we will look back at the crazy, ever changing road knowing that we are ahead of it all and that life continued, no matter how difficult it was to go through. 

I am so painfully, wonderfully, desperately excited to finally feel better. 

And there's no price you can put on feeling well. 

One step at a time. One day at a time. Hell, even one minute at a time. 

I am taking this particularly sharp and bold curve with confidence that I will get through it fearlessly, seamlessly, and with my eyes wide open, ready to take in the view at the other side.

A Lesson on Ripples

After having a little temper tantrum tonight, I needed to take a relaxing bubble bath and have an ugly cry by flickering candlelight and listen to the John Mayer Pandora station (l o v e ). It's my go-to zen time other than yoga or a run. Seriously a scene out of a rom-com.

I was looking at the beautiful perfect little flame coming from one of my candles and sort of just gazing away into nothingness, not sure what to think or feel, just a little numb after my pity-cry. I am also sick with my 7th or 8th cold in about 4 months, so it could have been that too...

My mom is the best at letting me really, truly just explode my emotions all over the place and then helping me piece them all back together and look at life objectively with a fresh sense. Bless her heart, she's done it so many times. Often after I go through the cycle of "confusion - anger - defense - self pity - acceptance - wonder - hope - trust - gratitude", I'm not sure how to feel. An hour beforehand, I was angry and confused and now I'm grateful for what I have and what I trust is coming to me. It's a little roller coaster-y. But without my mom helping me navigate that roller coaster, I would have a much harder time figuring life out. (Thanks, momma)

I saw the flame coming from the purple lavender candle on the edge of my tub. And then something happened that hasn't happened in the many zen-baths before, and if it has, I don't recall it having any effect on me. I saw the wiggly, static of the flame's reflection in the water. The ripples just made the dancing flame much more jumpy and sporadic and unpredictable. It was actually somewhat mesmerizing.

If I moved even the slightest bit, the candle's reflection would turn to wiggles and abstractness. If I stay perfectly still, the water calms and I can see a beautiful reflection of the entire scene - the candles, the walls, the steam, everything. All I had to do was stop moving and stop messing up the beautiful view I had.

My most recent Instagram post was about creating white space for ourselves. In that white space, the universe can intervene and give you a helping hand if need be. I think I accidentally made some white space for myself tonight. My little moment of white space made me realize that I need to stop fighting so much, and just let the scenes of my life unfold in front of me. The water and the candle was a major metaphor for my life as it is right now.

The metaphor being: Reality is pure and good and beautiful (the candlelit bathroom, beautiful music, etc.), but with a touch of unpredictability (the flame). If I avert my attention downward, keep moving and wiggling, and fighting, all I see is mess. It's nearly impossible to see what is physically surrounding me. If I stop squirming and let my surroundings (life) come into view, it's a really beautiful scene that brings me a lot of happiness and peace.

That's all for tonight. Not much. Not terribly profound. Hell, I don't even know if this will make sense to anyone who reads it... but it made sense to me, and that's all that mattered in my little off-white, porcelain bath tub tonight.

Namaste. 

Love Yourselfie

To start this post off, I will say that I am most definitely a medium-sized hypocrite to write what I am about to write... but at least I'm aware of it, so that counts for something, right?

Most people know about my history of body dysmorphia/eating disorders/anxiety, etc. so it's no surprise that that is what is on my mind a lot of the time. (Or everyday, if I'm being honest.)

I went to the gym tonight briefly to feel like I did something. While doing my little curtsy squats, I saw a small young woman set up camp in the area where I was. Well, by "set up camp", I mean she stood there...

She was pretty (seemingly naturally) petite, meaning she didn't have to work hard to have a small waist and thin arms and legs. So, good for her for working out and getting stronger. I didn't think anything of her presence until I saw her turn to the side and clearly start checking herself out. Lifting up her boxy black shirt, she turned to one side, looked at her abdomen, felt the very small bit of fat that her leggings didn't contain, turned to the other side, did the same thing. Stood with her legs in a purposeful thigh-gap-creating position, cocked her head to one side, then the other. This went on for about 2 minutes before she started working out.

Now, hear me out, I'm all for checking my progress in the mirror alone in the bathroom by myself in my home alone... alone. That's just my preference. But go for it. Seriously. You're not offending anyone by checking yourself out in the mirror at a crowded gym - in fact, more power to you because I couldn't do that without feeling weird. Confidence level = 100.

Normally, looking at your swollen muscles in the gym mirror isn't all that uncommon, especially if you're a bro. But it's much more uncommon and more poorly received if you're a woman - but that's just stupid societal gender stereotyping which is an entirely different topic to talk about another day.

Other than her looking at her already-quite-flat stomach, I didn't notice anything odd. What did catch my eye though was the look on her face.

She was judging herself so hard. And it broke my heart.

Now I wonder if I've ever made that face in front of someone else ... or ever. It was awful to see this very becoming young lady look at her anatomically perfect body with such disdain. She didn't seem all too confident in her fitness skills, and she kept glancing over at me and another girl who were playing with some kettle bells in the corner. I just wanted to hug her and tell her she was beautiful and strong and so, so wanted in whatever body she was given. And give her a pointer or two on squatting.

 Again, let me reiterate that I know how hypocritical I sound right now. It kind of made me want to smack myself across the cheek. Why am I pitying her and wanting to help her when I have similar thoughts about my own body? Why do I feel the need to fix my "imperfect" body when it works pretty well?

How dare I ever have a look like that on my face. How dare any woman think she is inadequate. She was there at the gym - that counts as something. She was doing a decent job by herself - that counts as something. And I saw her. I saw her look like a normal woman at the gym. And then I saw her fragility. Her vulnerability. Her frustration with her own skin. Her own fat. Her own "imperfections". To anyone else, they are just the opposite.

I look at heavier men and women at the gym and without knowing an ounce of their character, why they're there, or what is motivating them to get healthier, I feel so happy that they are there. And after seeing this small woman clearly uncomfortable to be in front of other people, I think I'll start reacting the same way when I see anyone of any size in the gym.

Seeing people care for their amazing machine of a body brings me such joy.

I wish more people would be proud of themselves and the fact that they show up to the gym regardless of the way they currently look. In this world, we can and often are judged solely on first impressions. And those judgements fuel mental illnesses, lack of confidence, body shaming, poor health, and hate. Who knows what lies under that 1/2in of belly fat, that extra 30 lbs, or that extra 130 lbs.

To the girl glaring at her 1/2 in. of belly pouch not contained by her leggings, you are so much more than your body. You are too valuable to be treating yourself like that. I've been in your shoes many, many times. And I still have moments just like that in privacy. It's so hard to see what other people see in us. It's often near impossible. But you have to try. Try.

I don't care who you are, if you take care of your body, it will in turn take care of you.

No matter what your size is, no matter if your leggings contain all of you, no matter if you have 2 tummy rolls or 22 tummy rolls when you sit down,  your body is beautiful as is. 

Your soul, even more. 

 Let both of them shine.

A Changed Perspective

You know those times in your life when you look up at the sky, take a deep breath, and feel in your soul of souls that everything is how it should be?

Those small moments, no matter how brief, are what keep me going through life. Those moments are what help me realize that everything really, truly is going to be okay.

Regardless of where my life is trying to take me, you can bet that if it's not where I consciously want it to go, I will be fighting tooth and nail against the current, trying to keep my head above the waves. Even if I have to stop and tread water for awhile, I will fight it. But sometimes the universe just says "NO. THIS IS NOT WHERE YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE HEADED, YOU IDIOT. STOP." And it stop me. Just like that.

My job is not to know where I'm being taken. My job is not to make my own path. My job is to let doors open for me, to let things happen. To take the ups and downs.

 

Just go with the flow...

When I was a kid, growing up in south Florida, we were taught that if you're swimming at the beach and you get caught in an undertow, you have to let it carry you. You CANNOT fight against it because you will tire yourself out and you can easily get yourself farther inside the current. 

It is not my job to know what is coming next, and honestly, if I did, how boring would that be?

All we need is to understand that we don't know right now. We can't know right now. And that's okay. Life is supposed to be shitty and breathtaking and exhilarating and not at all boring.

Life would be such a yawn if we didn't have the twists and turns and ups and downs and trials and heartbreak and everything that makes us human and everything that makes these lives into stories... then we can look back on our lives and say with pride, "I rocked that". 

Why do all of our frustrations and sad times have to be our be-all-end-all, and why do they always rub off on other people? Why can't we all look up at the same sky and realize that we ALL go through these hard times? We all go through trying times. We all have our heart broken once or five times. And we all wish things were different at some point. You wish you were skinny, or had muscle tone, or ate better, or ran faster, or had nicer clothes, or owned a car, etc. We are so often more focused on what we want in the physical world that we are blind to everything we do have. Your car is old? You have one. Your apartment is too small? If it's too small, it means you have so many possessions that you live large. You don't have much money? Well, you have some, now, don't you?

We all look at someone in a magazine or walking down the street, or maybe you personally know the person whose life you would love to live. Envy is a dangerous, all-too-common emotion. But if you think about it, that person who you look up to has a life they would rather live, or at least an aspect of it that they would trade for. But it's usually physical. Material. Disposable. Replaceable. What about the stuff we want on the inside?

Often what we don't see on the outside is what is the most important on the inside. 

Our heart. Our brain. Our nervous system. 

Our emotions. Our childhood. Our permanent bruises. Metal rods. Anxiety. The memory of a scent. Cancer.

We often wish things were different. But there is always someone out there who wishes they had your exact life, or at least large parts of it. 

Because we're human, often what we only see in ourselves is the flaws, the struggles, etc.

So, live like the person you want to be. Be gracious, thankful, forgiving, kind, courageous. Because in the end, what matters is not the new iPhone, the red sports car, the Michael Kors watch, the fancy handbag or shoes or whatever your physical self desires.

Your job is not to worry about getting this or that ... it's to not worry. It's to trust. To trust the universe, your God, your angels, fate, whatever word you want to assign to it. Trust that you are going through experiences for the sake of the experience.

You are exactly where you are meant to be at this moment.

Trust it. 

|| 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 ||

Food, Stress, and Jack Johnson's Dreamy Voice

A brief history...

4 years ago ...  I developed an eating disorder. Because of that short period of losing a crapton of weight (it's a real measurement. look it up.), it has tainted my relationship with food and now is a constant battle.

1 year ago ...  I looked and felt the best in my entire life

5 months ago ...  I broke up with my boyfriend after finding out that he had cheated on me for almost two years of our 4 year-long relationship 

4 months ago ...  I developed an absurd amount of food sensitivities and allergies that made it near impossible to continue exercising and eating well, forcing me to cease almost all physical activity, and continue gaining weight regardless of what I ate

3 months ...  I was probably crying about some now-obsolete assignment that was due sooner than I thought, ridiculously thinking that I was not going to graduate

7 weeks ago ...  I graduated from college with a degree that I never thought I could be so proud of

7 weeks ago ...  I moved away from the city that gave me some of the hardest lessons, best experiences, and greatest friends

3 weeks ago ...  I started my first job

Two days ago ...  I had a hard crash and burn

Conclusion:
 I've been through hell the past six months. And there was a lot I didn't list for various reasons.


The reason I listed all of that  was to just show you a glimpse of the stress I have been under for the past six months or so. Now, please before you aggressively click out of my post and back onto your nightly Facebook scroll, hear me out. Since January, I have been the most stressed in my entire freaking life. But I know stress varies from person to person. What I believe to be stressful is a snore for the next person. But what someone I'm next to in line at the grocery store may have a stress in their life that I don't understand. We all have our demons. And they are all different. And they are all valid.

When I initially fought the whole "not eating" thing when I was 19, I felt completely repulsed at myself. Not eating? Who am I? I love food. Probably a little too much at times, but dear god I love food. I lost 15 pounds in two weeks. If you don't want to brain, that's about a pound a day that I was losing. (Recommendation is 1-2lbs per week for healthy weight loss). I was terrified. I wasn't choosing to not eat. I couldn't eat for multiple reasons. If I did eat, I would get so nauseous that I couldn't move. But by not eating, I had zero energy and didn't feel like doing anything. I remember one of the worst days in particular, I had about 6 Cheez-Its and half a banana to eat the entire day. Watching the scale drop for me was a mixture of relief because I was FINALLY losing weight, but also terror. When was it going to stop? When could I eat again? When I did start eating again, would I put all the weight back on?

Long story short, I got the help I needed and the rest is history. But some people who go through a pattern like such don't fully recover right away... or ever. Like me. And we sometimes have relapses that are in full force, or baby slip ups. Stress for me tends to trigger some of the, at least, unhealthy thought patterns surrounding food and meals.

Mix that with a new job and about 30 gazillion food allergies, and what do you get? A shit storm of self-hate, sleep-deprivation, and a daily breakfast of plain coconut milk and Flax Seed Flakes cereal. Oh and I have a new bedtime of 8:30pm. Cool. I'm a superdork. (Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my job. Really.)


_____________________________

A few weeks ago I decided that enough was enough, and I needed a float on the French Broad River with one of my best girlfriends. The stress of starting a new, very physically demanding job, moving, not living in my own place, dealing with the food crap and all, just got to be a little too much.

On my way up to Asheville, I had my Jack Johnson Pandora station playing because ya know, the sunset on a cloudy, rainy, foggy mountain while driving towards a place I know and love just called for some soothing acoustic guitar and Jack's dreamy voice.

Isn't it funny how some things in life just... happen in perfect timing? Like you-know-you-couldn't-have-recreated-it-if-you-tried kind of thing? Somehow it's like the universe just lines it up for you. For your own little mini miracle. It's moments like when you're sitting alone in a restaurant and a beautiful song comes on that you've never heard before, and all at once you realize how delicious the food is that you're eating, how perfect the lighting is, how happy other people are sitting with their friends or family chatting over their meal, and just the magic of the ambiance of the place you are... right then and there. It's moments like when I'm on my way to Asheville for a 24-hour getaway, and I pass over a big hill, and at the exact moment the crescendo hits in the song, I see my first full view of the gorgeous mountains I'm driving towards. And all is well. Just like that.

It's moments like when I'm worrying about everything that's going on in my life, and one line in a song that I listen to regularly somehow clicks in my head and my soul and right then I realize it's a message that God, the universe, the force, whatever... is trying to send me. Everything is going to be okay.



There is a woman at my job who has had a truly life-threatening battle with eating disorders for her whole life. I met with her the other day and we talked about the struggle of continuing on the path of healthy eating, and healthy relationships with food. I told her everything that has happened lately (probably in more detail than she needed to know!), and she looked at me with the utmost understanding, and said "Erin, how often a day do you do something for you?" and I couldn't answer her. I never do something just for me. That's selfish and a waste of time... at least that's what I was taught.

Stress is glorified in our culture these days. But what people don't know is that stress can kill. It's so easy for us to say we don't have time, or we don't want to, or "I'm not stressed, I do yoga!"  No matter what we do as stress relievers, we are facing awful circumstances every single day. And trust me, I'm the first to understand that it's not as easy as just closing your eyes and taking deep breaths, or sleeping in, or doing yoga during your lunch break. We all have stressful lives... but why do we have to keep perpetuating the cycle? If you do yoga in the middle of the day and then go straight back to your job at a high-power law firm, doesn't that counteract all the meditation you just did? If you go for a run in the morning, that doesn't mean you can go eat a hamburger and ice cream for lunch. We need to LIVE our practices...not just have moments of "ugh I did it, now I can do this."

So, I'm giving myself homework. Once a day, I will sit down in a quiet area where I feel comfortable, open, and alive, and I will take five deep, life-giving breaths that will emanate through my veins and blood and hair and fingers and toes and energy. (Along with finding a therapist and getting my food allergies on track, but one thing at a time, right?) If we try and tackle every single stressful thing we are facing, our stress-free journey will end up being nothing BUT stress. So do one thing at a time. Maybe that's seeing a counselor/life coach/therapist for the first time. Maybe that's doing yoga and continuing the mind/body connection for the rest of the day. Maybe that's going to bed 30 minutes earlier so you get some much-needed rest. Whatever it is needs to work for you and your stress and your schedule.


Our bodies are made for enjoying the life we're given. Why can't we enjoy our bodies while we enjoy life?


Stay positive, my friends.

It always gets better.

Always.