Be Selfish.

Jack Johnson

Zac Brown Band

The Icarus Account

Nicki Minaj 

Matt Nathanson

Skrillex

The Beatles

Enter The Haggis

Diplo

N*Sync

...Honestly, WHAT PERSON LIKES ALL OF THESE ARTISTS?! (Shamelessly guilty. If you like every single one listed, marry me please.)

This is probably the reason no one lets me control the radio in the car... And this is also the reason why I tend to enjoy solo road trips. No one can judge my constant changing from one style to another... whether the song is over or not. Sometimes you just gotta go from Flo Rida to Jack Johnson, yo.

Today, I had to take a break. I had an absolute, complete, 100% meltdown. #SeniorYear

This morning started out like any other day

*cue getting-ready montage complete with dancing in front of the mirror sans pants*

Some of you are aware, I'm sure, that I have been on a, needless to say, frustrating journey with my health as of late. Because my body decided it wanted to be difficult (jk it was probably stress-induced), I cannot process certain sugars. If you have any remote knowledge of nutrition, you know that forms of sugar are in literally everything we eat. If I eat something my body can't process, my belly gets so distended and bloated that I can barely button my jeans, I get upper abdominal cramps that have had me doubled over on multiple occasions and sent to the ER once, and other more minor symptoms occur. These symptoms can last anywhere from hours to days and I sometimes notice it within minutes of eating something I shouldn't have. I saw our registered dietician on campus, and after hearing about three sentences, she gave me a diagnosis and a sheet of paper that told me what I need to stay away from.

Here is my list of things I cannot have (at least until my body calms down):

• Dairy and dairy derivatives
• Soy and soy derivatives
• Gluten
• Eggs (including egg whites)
• Dried fruit
• Sweet potatoes
• Whole grains (because of the husks)
• Mangos
• Raspberries
• Onions and onion powder
• Garlic and garlic powder
• Caffeine
• Various other fruits and veggies

So as you can see that's a pretty extensive list of things. Most of which are included in just about every processed food. Notice that meat and chocolate were not on the list? (THANK. GOD.) I have to follow a specific diet called the low FODMAPS diet, but that's a total shot in the dark, honestly. A few foods it says I can't eat, I actually can, and vice versa. (This diet makes it really fun to go on dates..."Dinner? Sure! I can't eat anything on that menu. You eat. I'll watch.") Also, finishing out college without caffeine is like... gold medal worthy. So if you are coming to my graduation, I expect a trophy that says "Degree without caffeine. First place."          Take note.

I digress. Having this "condition", if you will, would be shitty for anyone to encounter at any phase of their life. I am in my last few weeks of my last semester in college and I was diagnosed. So stress on top of stress because of stress. So what happens today?

Stress.

Betchya didn't see that coming.

The other day, I found these AWESOME protein powder packs made by Vega that are not only delicious, but they have all "safe" ingredients that won't hurt my stomach. I had one yesterday morning and one this morning for breakfast. After I noticed some minor joint swelling and overall puffiness and itchiness, I thought I was having allergies from the weather outside. Everything is blooming and gorgeous and pollinating, so "hello allergies", right? I took some non-drowsy allergy meds and went to dance that night. I didn't give it a second thought. When I had another one this morning, I was sitting in the office eating some nuts while working on a project and I started to feel my hands and face puff up and get itchy. And then I realized this wasn't seasonal allergies. I woke up feeling perfectly fine. I was having an allergic reaction to something. (REALLY hoping it's not nuts...) I started breaking out in hives, and about 30 minutes later I was having upper-respiratory difficulties.
 So here I was, itching from head to toe, so puffy that my rings were hard to get off (I have tiny fingers and my rings are always sliding around), an itchy throat, shortness of breath, and alone. Everyone I knew was at work, in class, or in Florida.

I went home, took another Benedryl, and laid on the couch for about three hours letting the doubled-up meds do their job.

When the sleepiness wore off, I ventured out to the hardware store.  Halfway there, I realized that it was a phenomenally gorgeous day and I should not be doing stuff I NEED to do. I had all my pressing assignments done, clients were contacted, meetings were over, etc. so there wasn't anything I truly had to do. I got what I needed and headed to the Blue Ridge Parkway.

I texted my mom that I was going to turn my phone off because I had to go take a drive and clear my mind. Appropriate mommy reaction was for her to immediately call me.

Do you remember when you were a kid and, as kids do, you would fall down and skin your elbow on the pavement? It stung, sure, but once you saw your mom or dad, you started crying as though you were about to have a limb amputated. I still react that way when I talk to my mom. She knew something was wrong (call it a momma's intuition). The minute she said "Are you okay? Your text had me a little worried", I'm pretty sure I looked exactly like this:

As I was driving onto the ramp that lead to the gate of the parkway, someone in front of me was going slow. And I realized then that I was actually rushing to relax. I was rushing to just... breathe. I'm so used to (as the rest of America is) rushing from one thing to another. I've found myself hurrying in places where I don't really need to hurry... such as to a relaxing drive. And yet, there I was. Blood pressure spiking, anger forming, just because someone was going 3 mph below the speed limit. How dare they!!

I immediately stopped myself from getting angry, and focused on being present, listening to the next random ass song play from my phone. It was "Proud" by The Icarus Account. That was a sign like none other. That song always makes me tear up a little but because I was just crying to my mom on the phone, when that song started playing, I began bawling. Like child-that-thinks-their-arm-is-about-to-be-amputated bawling. After that song, "Forever Young" by Rod Stewart came on and I just kept on crying... that's my mom's song to me and my brother. Not a chance in the world I will ever, ever skip that song when it comes on. My brother and I have the lyrics framed on our walls, he danced with my mom at his wedding to the song, etc.

There I was, driving on a winding, sunny, empty mountain road 2,500 feet in the sky, feeling angry, defeated, helpless, confused, and still slightly itchy. I was thinking "I'm already so limited in my diet, and now I had an allergic reaction to something I thought was safe. I have less than two weeks to turn everything in and complete my Bachelor's Degree. I don't have a job lined up yet. My dad probably won't make the effort to come see me graduate, and if he does, he will spin it so I feel guilty about it... again."

Every emotion hit me at once.

With swollen eyes and a defeated soul, I just kept driving. 

I kept changing the song because nothing felt right. 

Ludacris to The Mulligan Brothers to a heavy jig. 

I pulled onto one of the many overlooks and put my car in park. It was pretty quiet because not many people were out for joyrides during rush hour on a Tuesday.

I got out, sat on the pavement for about 10 minutes, and just listened to the quiet. No music. No traffic. No cell phones. Just the wind. The wind, the birds, the buzzing of bugs, the soft whisper of summer creeping in. I looked out over the mountains, over Asheville, over the two years I've spent here. A few cars slowed down to look but didn't stop, and I thought to myself... "these people are just slowing down to see the sights. How often do we stop, really let go of our constantly-processing mind, and just listen to the wind blow?" So after that, every thought that came into mind, I would just let it float on by without entertaining it one bit. But one thought came to mind and stuck no matter how hard I tried to let it go. 

"If I had not moved here two years ago, what would my life be like?"

 ||Would I be more stressed?||

||Less stressed?||

||Would I still be in Florida?||

||Would I have learned the same lessons?||

||Would I have had to make the same tough decisions?||

||Would I have been offered the same opportunities?||

I stopped myself because that's all irrelevant. I am here. I am now. I exist now because I made those decisions two years ago. And, despite the many, many peaks and valleys, I am so, so happy with my decision in retrospect.

The closer I get to moving away from the mountains, the more I realize how much I have fallen in love with them. I noticed myself aching to stay in the beauty that was surrounding me in that moment for another two years, but at the same time craving the salty spray of the ocean that my phone background shows. 

After taking the picture above, I drove away. Just up the road, I saw a side road that was accessible to the public. I went down and realized quickly that this was a very long, very steep, very windy road with literally NO places to turn around. If you've ever driven on the Dragon's Tail in Tennessee, this was just as bad if not worse. No one else was venturing down it with me ... or back up for that matter. So on one hand, my adventurous side kicked in and I loved seeing how fast I could comfortably take the curves (Only about 20 mph), but on the other hand, I didn't like the energy of where I was going. The trees were getting taller, I had literally a WHOLE MOUNTAIN just above me, and I didn't know where this road would end (the "POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS" tape between two trees didn't help), so I turned around. Just like that. I didn't like where I was going, so I changed my path. And the song. Again.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . 

 

I'm sitting here with the remnants of an Arctic Zero pint of Cookies and Cream, and my second (*cough* fourth *cough*) glass of two-buck-chuck, my eyes are still puffy from crying so hard, and I am beyond exhausted. I keep volleying between feeling guilty about canceling all my clients, missing a meeting, and missing class today, and understanding that being selfish is OKAY. How else does the world expect us to give it what it needs if we can't take care of ourselves? Today, it was a double-dose of Benedryl, watching three episodes of Scrubs, then taking a drive, crying my eyes out, shopping, and cooking dinner. That's what I call taking care of myself. I don't have the luxury of getting a massage or going to the beach or going on vacation or even seeing an allergist. But I do have the luxury to make do with what I have right here, right now. So I did.

I was reading the last few chapters of my Yoga Girl book last night (she is my hero) and the last few lines I read heavily resonated with me, so I'll leave you with them too...

"One of the most important rules that I live by is this: "To love others, you must first love yourself." You have to give yourself all the care you need! It's not just okay to be selfish, it's a necessity. If you run out of steam, how are you ever going to be of service to the world?"

(...and...)

"Where are you right now? Focus on what's happening inside yourself right at this moment. Your life is where you are. Notice your surroundings. Notice the sounds you hear, the sensations, the smells. Focus on the flow of your breath. Feel your feet on the ground, the chair beneath you, the clothes on your skin, the beating of your heart. Right now, in this moment, reading these words, you are okay.

You. Are. Okay. Everything is fine."

And I closed the book and went to bed with her words echoing in my mind.

Bath UFOs, Asheville, Stinkbugs, and Life

There's nothing quite like relaxing in a candle lit bubble bath with Jack Johnson Pandora radio playing quietly and a full glass of Skinny Girl wine in hand...and then seeing it. That small black dot on the wall above you. And it's moving. How 'bout no?

There's a fun thought stream that comes at a time like this...

• "What is that black dot?" *looks closer*
• "Is that black dot... moving??"
• "That better not be a bug ABOVE MY HEAD in my bubble bath meant to relax me..."
• "Oh f*ck that is a bug. Is it a spider? Is it a roach? Crap, either way there's no hope for relaxation tonight. Or ever. What IS that?"
• *slowly gets up hoping it doesn't fall on my head*
• "Stink bug. I freaked out over a stink bug. Cup. I need a cup." (Laugh all you want, I don't kill bugs.)
• *Gets candle holder* "This'll do." 
• "Ok come on you little sh*t, get into my candle holder. .......  Thaaat's it, get in there. It smells good, doesn't it, you little prick." 
• *Proceeds to discard bug in a fashion I would not like to speak of*

The amount of vulnerability one feels when naked. Dear god. I was treating a completely harmless bug like it was a venomous cobra... with the stomach flu... oozing toxic waste.

So that happened.

After dealing with the toxic waste-oozing, stomach flu-ridden, not-so-venomous stink bug, I finally relaxed into my much-needed bubble bath. (Totally not jumping at every black spot in my peripheral vision.) Jack Johnson's "Bubbly Toes" was playing softly from my charging phone next to the sink. "Ugh I really need a new case for that..." I thought.

Every relaxing bubble bath I take, I add lavender essential oil, Epsom salt, and I throw in my "Party In The Tub" light. My 5 year old nephew has one but I can promise you it's honestly the best addition to a bath I've ever come across. (Thanks for the stocking stuffer, mom!) The light from this little disk softly and slowly changes colors and since it's in the water with you, it casts the relaxing light across the entire bathroom. It's adds a little extra mood to an already "ahh"-inducing bath.

From my little iPhone 4s speaker, Dave Matthews Band is playing something awesome, as they do, I have a cold glass of rose wine in hand, small tealight candles are lit all around me, lavender fills the air, and I am finally relaxing (honestly, how am I single...).

I love to watch the light from my bath UFO, as I call it, cast the colors on the walls. The patterns changing colors and swirling with the water ... it's mesmerizing. The water was quite still since I wasn't moving much, just enjoying, and because so, the colors were changing right on the wall. For some reason, when I watched it go from red to turquoise and back to red, those particular color changes made me realize something pretty profound... life is always changing. (Ok, so I'm no philosopher...hear me out, y'all.)

You know when you get "a sign"? I'm super into signs from the universe (or [fill in the blank]). This was one for me.

. . . . .

I have had a rough 6 months. In retrospect, I don't know how I didn't revert into my old disordered eating patterns and I'm very proud of myself for not doing so. But nonetheless, it was tough for me. Between a really messy break up with my long-term boyfriend in December/January, having some pretty frustrating health issues (and eating literally only plain quinoa, white rice, banana, and avocado for two weeks), gladly accepting the 6th and final seat on the ACSM Certification Exam Team, graduating from college (finally), and many things in between, it has, needless to say, been an insane 6 months. So I'm allowed some time to relax and breathe occasionally.  But for me, I need it more than occasionally.

Because of my health issues, I haven't been able to work out or stick to my normal healthy diet. This caused me to gain about 10 pounds and lose a lot of confidence. After having a morning off to recuperate the other day, I actually had a really kickass day and when we were alone in our office, one of my trainers said "We were really worried about you. You didn't seem happy at all and it's not like you to not be smiling." I didn't realize how stressed out I let myself get. Between job applications, not knowing what to do after graduation, and attempting to juggle school with my health and the glimmer of a social life, I chose to really start focusing on myself again.

After getting somewhat back into my normal routine of exercise, yoga, and healthy dieting, I've wiped away the cobwebs of my turbulent life, and I have seen what is on the other side - sanity.

. . . . . 

Through the lavender-scented suds, I looked at my slightly chipped pedicure, wishing I had white nail polish to fix it. Sweat was starting to bead off my forehead, and I had the aftertaste of my cold, crisp wine filling my mouth. I looked up and saw the light from my bath light UFO shifting slowly on the wall and I realized that my life is always changing, much like my bath light. Sometimes it's hard and red and heavy, sometimes it's smooth and soft and blue and beautiful and easy. No matter what, it's always floating and shifting and changing.

We gain weight, we lose weight. We move, we get new jobs. We end bad relationships. We flirt and hope for new relationships. We hurt. We grow from bad experiences. We love. We feel deep gratitude and then turn around and hate. We want. We have meaningless sex. We expect everything from the world and then want nothing to do with the world. We live. We breathe. We survive.
We're human, guys.

We.           Are.          Human. 

We're animals. We are allowed to feel things. We are allowed to yearn, to dream, to be disappointed, to dislike, and to enjoy. Don't ever stifle any of those emotions. If we weren't supposed to feel them, we wouldn't.

Sitting in my big fluffy arm chair with my laptop appropriately on my lap, I can see outside beyond my patio to the mountainside that is literally 3 feet from the curb of our parking lot. I can't quite see west beyond the wall but I know that just behind those 6 inches lies a lucky and breathtaking view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I've really grown to love this place. The more I think about it, the more I will miss Asheville and its people and quirky atmosphere. But who knows what will bring me back to this place. After I walk across the UNC Asheville stage in 35 days, my belongings will reside in a little climate-controlled storage unit up here while I'm in Florida getting my health and fitness back on track...and waiting on a job offer. The next time I'll see my stuff after that garage-like door is closed and pad-locked, I'll be collecting it to move to my next adventure in life. My next city. My future friends, future trials and triumphs.

I'm so excited and so terrified. 

In August 2013, I never dreamed that this is what I would be doing nearly 2 years later. Picking up the pieces from a terribly messy breakup we both were (naively) sure would end in marriage instead of heartbreak, sitting alone in my beautiful, serene, "Oh Erin, this is SO you" apartment, drinking wine, listening to rain starting to softly pad the pavement outside, dreaming about what my life will be like in just two months . . . and knowing, just knowing that everything will fall into place.

Life is always changing and subsequently so are we. Sometimes our life throws us a curve ball and we have to swallow our pride, stand up dripping wet, butt naked, and catch the damn stinkbug looming ominously over our heads in order for us to fully relax. Vulnerability can sometimes show us the strength we have within, especially when caught off-guard. One of my favorite things to remind other of is to smile when you least want to because that is when you discover your true strength. You are infinitely stronger than you imagine.

So as I sit here, finishing off that same glass of wine in my favorite pink wine glass hand-painted with "all things grow in love", I look forward to a day trip tomorrow and my first visit to IKEA with one of my favorite friends, and decorating my graduation cap next weekend some of my favorite girls, I'm reminiscing on a crazy, turbulent, fun, sad, heart-wrenching, adventurous, lovely, opportunistic two years in this little mountain city I've called home.

All because of a children's toy that makes a bubble bath a "party" and paints my walls with magnificent colors.

A message to all the "age-appropriate" users of that bath toy out there...

Kid, L I F E is the party. 

On this day one year ago...

...I was getting lost in the Louvre. Literally.

On this day one year ago, I was laughing hysterically at all of the lying "sortie" (exit) signs.
On this day one year ago, I was imitating a statue along with the sweetest (now 14) year old girl I know.
On this day one year ago, I saw the Mona Lisa.

I went to Paris, France on 11/09/12 with two of the most incredible people I have the pleasure of knowing. We laughed, we cried, we wished, we climbed, we bundled up, we ate, we were cold the entire time.

I don't think I could ever fully recount the trip I took to Paris and do it justice. I think it would take about a week ... one full day of explanation for each day we were there. And then some.

I found peace and inner strength I never knew I had on an overcrowded, smelly, loud metro. I locked up a padlock on the Seine river railing, threw one key into the water and kept one... always to remind myself that it's there and my wish is still being fulfilled. I took so many pictures because I never wanted to forget the moments we all had together.

We got lost multiple times, as you should in a foreign country (to an extent). We ate the freshest bread, the most incredible chocolate, and hot wine. Yes, hot wine.

A local bar sang Happy Birthday in french directly to me, of course on my birthday. My 21st birthday.

We hand-fed birds outside the Notre Dame after climbing to the top of it. We shopped on one of the most famous shopping strips in the world. (And spent about $20 each)

We want to go back. We want to have more unbelievable experiences. We want to make wishes on the Seine River. We want the freedom of no phones, limited computer access, and exploration as a foreigner in a foreign land.

I can never thank my (for lack of a better word) "sponsor" for bringing me along and sharing the experience with her and her daughter. Words cannot describe how grateful I still am for the once-in-a-lifetime experience. Hopefully it won't be once in my lifetime that I get to travel across the pond, though.

To Jamie and Caryss,
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing this experience with me. With you, it made the trip that much better. No one could have given me the same experience that you two did. Love you. XO

Study breaks, EMDR, and Yogurt the Pirate

While I sit here, listening to my Bach Pandora Station, trying to not procrastinate this abnormal psych exam I have tomorrow, I remembered that I need to keep blogging my updates with EMDR! So I'm taking a study break to write this. Hallelujah.

I had my second EMDR session today with my therapist. I went in expecting to have the same reactions as I did before, end up with a 4-hour-long hangover afterwards and not be able to study for my exam. I knew what to expect. I have done this once before. There's a pattern to this type of therapy.

Let's rewind a little. A few weeks back, Paul and I decided to go to see Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs II (Hilarious and so, so, SO clever. A definite recommend.) The movie theater we went to is literally one width of a highway away from a local regional airport. I knew this since I have been there before, and I knew that I needed to expect some planes flying all around and landing super close. After the movie, we decided to walk around, window-shop, and people watch (one of our favorite past-times together!) We were crossing the street at a little roundabout, and I heard it. I can hear it before anyone else I know. I heard a plane getting ready to fly over and land. It flew over us, while we walked down the sidewalk. He looked at me, expecting me to get wide-eyed, have trouble breathing, shake, and the most common effect, squeezing the blood from his hand. Nothing happened. He asked if I was okay after I looked up at the plane (ok, so I'm not THAT cured yet...) and I just said a very flippant "yep!" and kept walking and finishing my probably compelling story. I surprised him, and frankly I surprised myself. Why wasn't I freaking out like normal? Why wasn't I embarrassing myself in front of hundreds of people? My track record with this situation is NOT a pretty one.

Fast forward.

I was sitting there in my therapist's sweet little room in a big comfy chair. After the whole check-in that any normal therapist does, she said "so you're sitting in the chair..." (She had asked me after the last session to sit in "the chair" if I wanted to do EMDR and to sit on the couch if I didn't.) I said "yep! Let's do some EMDR." So we did.

Just thinking about the reaction, the fear, the simulated panic, I was starting to tear up just by her talking about what we were going to do. Just by mentioning the situation that I was going to reminisce upon - Mexico in June. Plane flew lower than I've ever seen before. Ran off the volleyball court in a full blown panic attack. Nice and embarrassing to me and my poor boyfriend. So we did things a little differently this time.

First she asked me to think of a different "happy place" than last time. So I remembered this one scene from the movie Just Like Heaven. Reese Witherspoon sitting on a bench in the middle of the most serene garden one can imagine. Thinking of sitting there, smelling the flowers, hearing the trickling waterfall, and feeling the cobblestones under my feet got me out of a very scary panic attack I had a year ago. (I was quite proud of myself, if I do say so)


This wasn't the scene but it's close enough...

So I pictured my mental rendition of this as she moved her fingers back and forth, back and forth, in front of my eyes - the "rapid eye movement" part of EMDR.

With the amount of relaxation I felt, I could have just gotten back from this garden.

Then we started with the scary stuff. As soon as she said we're switching gears, my heart started to beat faster, my breath became shallower, and my torso started to tense up. I was literally bracing myself for what was coming.

So she turns on the little beepy buzzy thing and we start. She tells me to focus on that feeling of "I'm not safe" and it begins.

We went through all the motions and I barely shed a tear as opposed to last time where I was crying so much, I nearly filled my bra up with tears. (Graphic, but hey... I'm only human and sometimes we have to have ugly cries!)

I was astounded at myself. Was it really this easy? One or two sessions and I'm cured of my stupid ridiculous plane phobia? Couldn't be.

We were both surprised at the lack of emotion I had to the whole session. Yes, I did want to hyperventilate a few times and she had to make me breathe correctly, but still. Even that's an improvement if you read my first post about this therapy.


Maybe I'm being a little too hopeful but what if just one more session cures me? What if I can go to a county fair (because they're ALWAYS next to an airport) and not have to hide under tents the whole time? This will be a HUGE, and I mean MAJOR milestone for me emotionally.

I can't wait to not have to explain to people why I'm flipping out over a stupid plane. The only time that I want to freak out at a plane flying overhead is if:
1. I can see the people's faces... because that's just too low and I shouldn't be that close to a landing plane anyways.
2. A wing is torn off and it's smoking and going to crash, but anyone would freak out at that sight.

 I'm hopeful. I'm excited.

On a totally unrelated note, as anyone seen this going-viral pup? His name is Yogurt the Pirate Dog. He's a Chihuahua from Eastern Asia (I don't remember which country...China maybe?), he has one eye, and he can't stop sticking out his tongue. He has thousands and thousands of followers because he is probably THE CUTEST DOG IN THE WORLD. Which is saying a lot. Because I think really, really highly of my puppy's cuteness.

My Jackson:

 

Yogurt the Pirate Dog (and his instagram):

.

.

.

.

.

 And a bloodhound running on the beach...

You're welcome.

Eat the Damn Cake

"Pick a card, any card..."
5 of Diamonds. Do 5 Sumo Deadlift High Pulls. Pick a new card.
10 of Hearts. Do 10 Thrusters. Pick a new card.
3 of Spades. Do 3 Box Jumps. Pick a new card.
King of Clubs. Do 12 Kettlebell Swings. Pick a new card.


This was one of our WODs, or Workouts of the Day, for those of you who don't cross-fit. *Dramatic hair flip*

This was probably one of our more difficult workouts, and in true cross-fit fashion, it was a race. My partner and I got through our entire deck, pulling one card after we finished the workout of the previous, in 13 minutes and 38 seconds; we were the first team to finish. I felt exhausted. I felt faint. I felt hot. I felt pretty good. We had finished first! I felt so accomplished because I have never been first in a physical contest. I beat the MEN. Is this real life?

In my moments of mixed emotions of elation and physical exhaustion, why was I feeling so unfulfilled? Every cross-fit workout had ended like this. Was I not doing something right? No, coach said I had perfect form. Was I not going hard enough? No, I was freaking exhausted. Then what was it?

_______________________________________________

This was two weeks ago. I had one or two workouts since then and then I ended up quitting mainly for time constraint. I really did enjoy cross-fit, but I think mainly because of the friends that I was making there. You know, only being on campus for 2 months and having instant friends feels pretty damn good. But I decided that being in a constant time-crunch wasn't worth it. And you know what else? (plug your ears, cross-fitting lovers!)

1. Cross-fit wasn't working. 
 I wasn't getting toned. I wasn't losing weight. I wasn't feeling amazing. If anything, I felt worse. I was so tired all the time. I could NOT get over a respiratory virus that I had gotten 6 WEEKS PRIOR. I'm not exaggerating. It took at least 6 weeks to get over the thing. I thought I was in decent shape... I teach Zumba, I add strength training in my own routine, I'm pretty fit. But I was seeing zero results.

2. I was over working myself. 
 I was over exerting my body. I wasn't made for this.
Here was my schedule...
Monday and Wednesday: Class until 11:15am, dance practice from 6:30-8:00pm
Tuesday: Class until 3, Cross-fit from 6:30-7:30, Teach Zumba from 8:00-9:00pm.
Thursday: Class until 10:40, teach group fitness from 12:15-1:00, class until 3:00, Cross-Fit from 6:30-7:30.

Doesn't sound like a lot on Mondays and Wednesdays, does it? It really wasn't. But if I wanted to have a good dance practice, I couldn't work out ahead of time. I would have been too tired.

Going with this schedule while trying to get over a virus? Forget it. It wasn't happening.

So besides the overloaded schedule, trying to uphold a wonderful relationship with my also-full-time-student boyfriend, and working out literally every single day, why wasn't I fulfilled?

I was so excited to be this active and would joke often that "if I don't get a ripped body by the end of the semester, I'm giving up and eating ice cream every night in the spring."

3. I wasn't happy. 
I wasn't feeling fit or toned. I was tired, sluggish, weak, ended up injuring both ankles, AND developing a stomach ulcer, all the while STILL GETTING OVER THE VIRUS FROM HELL.

4. The kicker...
I had a "EUREKA" moment after one session a few weeks ago. I didn't feel safe. Yes, obviously I was confident in some of the exercises, like squats, running, jump rope, etc. But the Olympic lifting stuff was NOT for me. My hands are too small for the technical "hook grip" (where your fingers grip over your thumb while holding a bar...imagine making an "M" in sign language), I do not feel safe lifting this 35 lb bar over my head because what if, as a fault of my incorrect grip, it comes smashing down on my head? They didn't teach us these things. When I told my coach that my hands are literally too small to do a hook grip, he laughed and said "well, you'll get used to it." Get used to what, holding the bar incorrectly because of my anatomy?

^^ Aforementioned hook-grip. ^^ 

But that wasn't the only reason I didn't feel safe...

5. I'm a trainer. Not a trainee.
I never went 100% in our workouts because I knew... I just intuitively knew that if I did I wouldn't come out unharmed. There was just something about the specifics of the routines that I wasn't comfortable with. I still can't put my finger on what it was. But the speed at which we had to do everything, the mentality of "unless you're injured, being in pain isn't bad", go as fast as you can, bleeding and bruising aren't a bad thing, puke happens, blah blah blah... I don't agree with any of that. It's one thing for an Olympic athlete to bleed and bruise and hurt and puke because they typically know what they're doing. Getting blisters and bleeding when I'm dancing is normal because it's just what happens at more advanced levels of a sport. But being a newbie in the cross-fit world and just now learning the lifts and the workouts, bleeding and bruising isn't something one should be proud of. Once you're competing, then talk to me about wrecking your body, but being a beginner the only thing you should be getting is sore muscles and calluses.

My friend Mia sent me an article that explains a secret in the cross-fit world. It's called Rhabdomyolosis, or "Rhabdo" for short. Now the article I read was focused on the dangers of Rhabdo and Cross-fit, but truth be told, this could happen with any extreme fitness routine. But since I'm fresh off the cross-fit bus, this hit home. I also have a bunch of friends who are slightly addicted to the form.

Basically, this "Rhabdo" happens when you workout under extreme conditions... and I don't mean working out in the arctic or in the Sahara. I mean pushing yourself literally to your limit of "I physically cannot do any more reps" and then not being able to move your arms the next day. What happens when you do that is your cells actually start exploding under pressure and they leak a protein into the blood stream called Myoglobin. The myoglobin gets filtered through the kidney, and since myoglobin isn't supposed to be in the bloodstream to begin with, it makes the kidney say "what the fuck is in me!?" and then your kidneys go on strike. It can kill.

 People have had amputations and have died from this condition because they went too hard. It happens in Olympic lifters, marathon runners, professional dancers, and cross-fitters alike. (And any other sport than can be extreme.)

__________________________________________________

"But Erin, how DO you get fit?"

Eat well. Work out. Sleep well. Done. 

People often think that changing their diet means to cut out everything they like. The only thing I will swear by cutting out is soda. Cut out the damn soda. It's gross. It's gross for you. Don't drink it. But everything else is fine in moderation. And by moderation I mean, let yourself have one small sweet thing every other day. Not a whole candy bar... maybe half of one. Not a whole bowl of ice cream, maybe a scoop and a half with some fresh fruit. But couple it with a healthy, wholesome diet. Just cutting back on sweets isn't going to do much. Add more color onto your plate. Peppers, leafy greens, veggies, lean meat, a half a cup of a carb. Done. Healthy.

Then you see it. You see on the menu, in your pantry, at the buffet, whatever, a piece of double chocolate dream cake. Damn. Now you want that mother f*cking cake, don't you? Eat that damn cake. Eat it like you've never eaten a (small) piece of cake before.

Then go run. Not immediately obviously because you WILL see that cake again, just not in the most appealing form. Run that evening, run the next day.

People will say "cut out ALL sugars and ALL carbs and you'll lose weight." Well, duh. That will work, I promise you. But you'll be freaking miserable and end up having a bad night and polishing off an entire box of Oreos while you watch The Notebook and wondering where you went wrong in your life to deserve this.

*DO NOT DEPRIVE YOURSELF*

Our bodies need sugars, carbs, and fats believe it or not. Just not all the time or in huge quantities.

Eat the damn cake, then go for a run soon after. Drink water, not soda. Eat carrots, not french fries. Eat a salad, not a meatball sub. Take the stairs, not the elevator. There are so many little tweaks you can make in your life that will make you healthier AND happier... not healthier and wanting to punch a kitten because you didn't let yourself have a crumb of the cake you made for your husband.

*WORK OUT MORE*

Get a personal trainer, seriously, spend the money and get a good one that you like and agree with. It's worth it. Plus we trainers need the money ... trust me. They will give you tips on how to tweak your current diet into something that you can handle. None of this "4 almonds for breakfast, swordfish for a snack, and grass-fed bison for dinner with a side of air" crap. You're not a body builder or a fitness model.

Sure you can push yourself when working out... that's what makes it work. Hard work. Sweat, sometimes pain, sometimes being sore. But it sure as hell beats your cells exploding.

Go on Pinterest. Stalk your fitness friends "perfect body board" (because they don't already have an insane body...) and pick up some exercises that don't make you quiver in fear. Being comfortable with what you're doing is a huge thing. If you're not comfortable doing 107 Thrusters in a row, then you probably shouldn't do them.



But eat the damn cake.

I'm alive!

(Because I have thousands of viewers and followers who regularly follow my blog posts...)

I'm alive. I looked at my most recent blog post and it was from JUNE. I guess I've been busier than I thought. If you do read my ramblings, I posted one about a year ago mentioning an irrational fear of planes flying over my head. I said that I was going to do whatever it took to get over that fear...

A quick background if you are already lost. I have a very intense phobia of planes flying over my head. It gets so bad that I've hyperventilated at 80mph and almost driven off the road. I shake uncontrollably, I am crying so hard that I can't breathe, and sometimes I've almost thrown up. It's bad. And it's been in my life since I can remember, complete with a home video of 1-2 year old Erin screaming "Ehpane! Ehpane!" with the familiar buzzing in the background of a plane flying over. So since it's starting to affect my safety along with others safety, I decided with the push of my boyfriend, that I needed to end this. I have to get over this fear before I hurt myself or pass it down to my kids. So I started looking for a therapist about a year ago.

You know what helps getting over fears? Therapists that actually listen to you. Even though I never posted a follow-up like I said, it was because I couldn't find a damn therapist who could work with me. I felt really alone and like no one had ever heard of an irrational fear before. Other people have to have phobias or there wouldn't be a word for it. Most of the therapists I had been to before now either didn't know how to approach the phobia and said they couldn't help me or said "it's because you're angry at your dad". Yes, this fear appeared at a year old because I was angry at Dad for not giving me my mac n' cheese in the right bowl.

It's more than that, it's bigger than that, and frankly, I think that's just an easy way out for some psychologists.

Here's my very belated follow-up...

Before I moved up here to the Smoky Mountains (UNCA), my mom found a little blurb on a business card or something that said "Open doors you never knew existed". Boy howdy, was that true. And is continuing to be true.

I went to the Health and Counseling Center to not only find a counselor for normal counselor superpowers, but I wanted to find someone who would be willing to help me tackle this strange phobia. I was recommended this one counselor who was said to do EMDR therapy for phobias. I had never heard of it before, but it sounded legit, so I set up an appointment. No harm in simply trying anything, right?

Here's what EMDR is... *clears throat in a scholarly fashion*

(If you read it with a British accent, you feel SUPER smart.)

"Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing is a comprehensive, integrative psychotherapy approach. It contains elements of many effective psychotherapies in structured protocols that are designed to maximize treatment effects. These include psychodynamic, cognitive behavioral, interpersonal, experiential, and body-centered therapies².

EMDR psychotherapy is an information processing therapy and uses an eight phase approach to address the experiential contributors of a wide range of pathologies. It attends to the past experiences that have set the groundwork for pathology, the current situations that trigger dysfunctional emotions, beliefs and sensations, and the positive experience needed to enhance future adaptive behaviors and mental health."

"... a target is identified and processed using EMDR procedures. These involve the client identifying the most vivid visual image related to the memory (if available), a negative belief about self, related emotions and body sensations. The client also identifies a preferred positive belief. The validity of the positive belief is rated, as is the intensity of the negative emotions. After this, the client is instructed to focus on the image, negative thought, and body sensations while simultaneously moving his/her eyes back and forth following the therapist's fingers as they move across his/her field of vision for 20-30 seconds or more, depending upon the need of the client. Although eye movements are the most commonly used external stimulus, therapists often use auditory tones, tapping, or other types of tactile stimulation."

What you just read..."science, science, blah blah, EMDR, client, blah sciencey science". But this crap actually works. Well, I don't know if it works like it gets rid of my fear, but I know it does something to me during that session. 

My therapist uses what they called tactile stimulation along with auditory stimulation. I have to put on these headphones from 1998 and a little 1"-long bulb in each hand. The headphones have a tone that go back and forth, I can choose the tone to go a range of speeds, whatever is comfortable, and at the same time, at the same speed, the bulbs vibrate. 

During this time, she has me visualize a very specific event at which a plane flew over my head and subsequently had a panic attack. Normally, I can recall any event without it affecting me in the slightest. I could be telling you what I had for dinner last night it's that easy. But holy moly, thinking about the same plane occurrence with the stimuli, I actually have close to a full blown panic attack, as if a plane were in the freaking room. It's crazy. I kept hyperventilating and she had to tell me to take deep breaths. I was freaking out not only because of the panic attack, but I was kind of freaking out that I was no where near a plane and these stupid little vibrating balls were making me cry and having trouble breathing. I was so taken aback. I felt like a test subject. Or a mouse in a testing lab.

After my freaking out off and on for about 20 minutes, she still had the headphones and vibrating bulbs going, and she had me think of a very pleasant time when I was at a party, or when I was chilled out. I had to very specifically focus on the smell of the place, on the feel of the floor under my feet, what I was talking about, who I was talking to, etc. I couldn't believe the amount of relief I felt in just my face. I didn't realize how scrunched my face had been when I was thinking of the planes. I was so much calmer.

So what does this all do? It makes me have panic attacks? Cool. I'm doing this to STOP the panic attacks. I'm doing this so I DON'T drive off the road and kill myself of someone else. I'm doing this so I'm not horribly embarrassed when I fall down in the fetal position in a parking lot. So why am I going to therapy to be scared shitless? It's apparently worth it.

This type of therapy is supposed to rewire the brain, essentially. Instead of seeing a plane and firing along the same neuropathways to tell me to FREAK OUT, it rewires to fire along a different pathway to tell me to relax. The goal of EMDR therapy is to process these distressing memories, reducing their lingering effects and allowing clients to develop more adaptive coping mechanisms.

I've only had one session so far, and I go back for one in about two weeks. I'm pretty nervous just because I know for a fact that I will have a panic attack. After the session, you have what's called an EMDR hangover. I was exhausted just walking back to my hall. And then I sat in bed and watched about 4 episodes of Lost. 

I know some of my friends also have irrational fears and I thought this might help keep y'all encouraged. It's scary as hell. I won't sugarcoat it. Just admitting that you need "help" (I hate that term) is the first scary step, but I'm banking that it will be worth it. I'll keep you posted. 

In the meantime, keep away from any and all airports, airplanes, movies about planes, paper airplanes, and airplane drawings, kthnks. 

E

This is my determined face...

You Are Infinitely Stronger Than You Imagine

As a lot of you know, I have struggled with anxiety for many years. I mean, this stuff dates back to when I was 5, clinging to the front door frame of my mom's house, screaming and crying, and being pried away by my dad for his weekly visitation. My current battle with anxiety started with my separation anxiety from when I was a wee one. I have overcome it, fallen back into it, and overcome it so many times that it's now hard to trust myself when I think I'm finally overcoming it for good. I was really okay when I was in my mid-teens, but after a break up that turned my world upside down, I spiraled back into it, worse than I had ever been. It has taken years and a lot of therapy to get my mind back to a normal amount of regular anxiety (i.e. car payments, food, gas, broken dogs, etc. Normal stuff, ya know?)

I have always noticed that my anxiety gets worse before every big trip I make. Whether it be to Orlando (a two-hour drive) or to Mexico... where I will be flying to in two days for a fab vacation. Hence this post, and hence my current anxiety.

The past few days have been weird. I'm exhausted, slightly nauseous constantly, and I can't decide if I have a sore throat. This is the epitome of my anxiety... worrying that I will get sick before I go, so then I have to travel while sick, or get sick there and not be able to enjoy myself. I'm basically making myself sick with the fear that I will get sick. It's all psychological and the mind is powerful enough that it's affecting me physically.

This is one of my biggest fears. It stems from a horrible experience with my dad yelling at me for throwing up in a restaurant when I was 10. I know where it comes from, but it doesn't help knowing. I know it's anxiety and I'm not actually sick, but this knowledge doesn't help either. It's still there. I still have anxiety.

When I'm out of my comfort zone I have these constant mini panic attacks. They used to be bad enough that I would carry a plastic bag with me just in case I had to throw up. I never used even one. I don't get sick to my stomach easily. Ever. (Thank god.) *knocks on wood* But it eased my mind to know that just in case, I had it there. Instead of a safety blanket, it was my safety plastic bag...?

It all came to a head during a certain time. There was no one occurrence that made me realize I had to change some things. I just knew. I didn't want to look back on my 20's and remember my panic attacks. I wanted to remember the amazing times. It was time to change. So I took control.

I thought of this idea from seeing all the motivational memes and pictures on Pinterest. (Some amazingly inspiring shit is on there, guys. Go explore it.)

Well I saw all these quotes and sayings, and I started pinning the ones that really spoke to me so I could see them again eventually. But I knew this wouldn't be enough. I needed to see these words daily. Multiple times daily. So I wrote them down on little snippets of paper and started taping them all over my house in places I knew I would see them daily. I even put one in my car.

These were some of my favorites:
"You are infinitely stronger than you imagine."
"Keep moving forward." (I put it on my dashboard. It confused every one who got in my car. Definitely funny!)
"You might be Jesus to someone."
(Ok. No, I don't think myself a prophet. I cannot walk on water. I cannot feed 500 people with a loaf of my gluten-free bread. To me, it means I might be an idol or a role model for someone, and I might not know it.)

Seeing these every day and repeating them to myself when I saw them really reassured me and made me realize that I can be as strong as I want to. As cliche and tacky as it sounds, I hold the power to recovery.

I've done it before, and I will do it again. This will be a life-long struggle with anxiety, but like I said, we are so much stronger than we imagine.

No matter the level of anxiety, we are strong enough to overcome it. It's hard, but oh my god is it worth the fight.