 The other night, Mimi and I watched “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”. The title alone made me a little “oh this is a chick flick isn’t it?” and since I’m more boy than girl I prefer a movie with a least one good car chase, a few blow em up scenes and then of course the obligatory hurrah of the super hero over powering the villain and bringing peace to mankind for another day. Like the good Manwo (a term coined by my most awesome brother-in-law Adam) that I am I know the rules of any relationship must include the occasional chick flick….
Surprisingly, I loved this movie more than I thought I would.
In fact, it might just be one of best movies I’ve seen in a long time.
It’s very rare that a movie will provoke a lot of thought for me. Again, because I’m more of a “shoot em up” “Bang! Bang!” sort of girl/boy but this movie provoked a lot more than I was anticipating. Most of my life I was (am) Charlie. The wallflower. The kid mostly gone unnoticed or at least that was (is) my perception growing up (living life). The secret that Charlie kept was the very same secret I kept (and still keep mostly to myself) because the people that could help with some closure are long gone and what’s the benefit of pointing fingers in accusations when there is no one in front of you to ask the burning question: Why?
Charlie says this line at the very end of the movie:
“You Can’t Control Where You Came From but You Can Control Where You’re Going”
I can’t control from where I came…
I couldn’t control my mother’s mental illness that had already dug it’s claws deep into her soul long before I was conceived. I couldn’t control that she looked for love in the darkest corners of the loneliest places and found my father waiting for her, to give her his definition of love while she grasped at anything close for comfort. Soon after, I came along. Another reminder in her already scarred life that love doesn’t come without pain and pain can be forgotten more easily when you’re drunk.
I couldn’t control the cloud of depression that invaded every aspect of the family I was born into. My mother, my brothers and eventually me. I couldn’t control the undiagnosed conditions that wreaked havoc on my small body. From the days of rocking in a crib, banging my head on the railings to throwing a tennis ball against a brick wall almost every day of my primary school years, to the uncontrollable urge to hit myself in the head, pull my hair out and dig at my skin until I bled at the first sign of a tough emotion because back then, the word Aspergers hadn’t been spoken.
I couldn’t control the intense survival mode I felt towards food as a kid. The over eating as a child because no one was taking control of my upbringing which led to shoving utensils down my throat to find some sort of control over food, emotions, my life, anything. I couldn’t control any of it. It is what it WAS but it is NOT how it has to be.
I can control where I am going.
I write a lot about things most people would prefer to sweep under the carpet and forget about. The only problem is that underneath my carpet was the collective heap of a mess from all the sweeping I tried to do for so long but without success. I couldn’t continue to “sweep” away the emotions of the past and hope to continue forward into the future. I don’t necessarily like to write about mental illness, gender confusion, abuse, food addictions, drug addictions, and my own transgressions but I do because while I couldn’t control where I came from you can sure as hell bet I could control where I was going and if I wanted to go anywhere I needed to start by cleaning up the shit around me so that I could begin to lay a good foundation of understanding who I was, who I am and who I want to be.
I’m open about my life because there’s an off chance that someone else is out there sitting in the same heap of crap I sat in for so long. Wondering how long it’s going to take for things to change or wondering if this is everything called life for them. I wanted for so long to blame my past for where I was standing. To point the finger at my mother, my brothers, my teachers that saw the signs but didn’t say anything and lay blame for who I was (or who I wasn’t). I wanted to point the finger at relationships ended, at social anxieties and depression that seem to never end and at the never ending barrage of food that I shoved down my throat as my heart raced knowing eventually I would bring it all back up and finally feel a short-lived sense of comfort as the blood vessels in my eye burst and my throat bled from the forceful vomiting. I wanted to point at the big dirt pile under the proverbial carpet that I’d spent forty years sweeping and blame everything else on everyone else for what I had become.
But I control where I’m going.
It’s one of the reasons I have no ill feeling towards the first part of my life and I’m able to (at least to the best of my ability) stop looking over my shoulder trying to lay blame where there is no blame to lay. Everything I am today and everything I strive to be is because I am in control of my direction. From the food I eat and the miles I run to the emotions I feel and the gender I choose; I am in control.
People ask me why I love to race. Is it to add to the medal or racing shirt collection? Am I trying to place in an age group or beat a personal time? To be honest, it has nothing to do with any of those things (though I do love a good medal). I love to race because each time I step up to a starting line it reminds me from where I came. The starting line (the life) that I couldn’t control. As I cross over the beginning , the struggle to reclaim control over life is played out with each forward step.
I feel good as I start out. Strong. Weaving in and out of people as I find my place among all of those trying to accomplish the same thing but each of us, while running together are very much alone. Much like everything in my life (in our lives) I start out strong. Confident. This time will be different. I can do it. I am in control. No matter what happens during the race I decide my next move. I cry, I laugh, I wonder what the hell am I doing out here? I decide when to rest, when to stop and take a picture and when to thank those for volunteering. I decide when to refuel or pace behind someone to help get my mind off of all that is around me. Just like in real life every choice I make during a race is because those are my legs moving not someone else’s.
That is my heart beating.
Not yours.
As in life I become tired. Muscles are sore. I feel alone. I want to quit. So many times I looked in the mirror and gave up on myself. Hung my head in shame knowing that I was never going to be good enough. Wanting to be something but slapping that “NOTHING” label on my heart over and over again. I looked around and pointed outwards. “It’s your fault”, “You did this to me”, “You didn’t love me”, “Why????” Darkness would envelope me and I would stop where I stood, giving up…
Sometimes (most times) I feel that darkness during a long race. The “just give up” feeling tapping me on one shoulder while the “you are still nothing” feeling taps on the other. It’s in those moments, where all I can think about is sitting on the ground and giving up that I remember that I’m in control of everything I do. I stop worrying about how fast I’m (not) running and start remembering that it’s the commitment to finish by any means necessary that urges me forward. I allow the emotions to overwhelm me because I know that this is life in front of me and I can either sit down and give up or I can fight for every step forward until I am right where I need to be; at the finish line.
Life is a struggle. It’s a constant swim against the current. An uphill battle. We often feel defeated and then spend so much time comparing what we haven’t been able to do against those that have been able. We feel out of control with almost everything in our lives. Our families. Our jobs. Our addictions. Our mental illness. Our gender confusions. Our weight. We feel inadequate and with that inadequacy comes the pointing of the fingers and the outward lay of blame. What we forget is that WE are in CONTROL of everything we do going forward…
You can’t control where you came from.
But you can control where you’re going.
It’s no secret (well maybe that’s not true since I did keep it a secret for a long time) that I’m trying to write a book. For the past year I’ve been trying to regurgitate my life into some form of written story. The hard part is that it’s so fucking emotional that it takes me a long time just to get a few pages down. The entire time that I’m typing away, I’m also reliving everything as if I’m in the moment of experience.
I write something.
I feel something.
I stop.
This week has been especially hard because I’ve been writing a lot about my mother. Feeling like the words should be taking one path, I am completely thrown off track because my words decide to take a left instead of right and I find myself writing about things I was unprepared for.
My friend Jon says there are two types of writers; Microwave writers and slow cooker writers.
Microwave writers tend to sit down at their laptops or pick up a pencil and verbally vomit as much as possible in as little time as possible. Afterwards they spend the time revising, rewriting, regurgitating until something more tangible is in their hands.
Slow cooker writers like to simmer for long periods of time on what they’re trying to express. I’m a slow cooker kind of writer. Honestly I’m a slow cooker kind of person in almost anything I do. Sometimes it takes me hours just to get a few paragraphs onto a page because I have to mix the ingredients just right. A little taste here. Add a little pinch of something there. For me, writing is a process of reliving. As soon as my fingers begin typing I’m there, wherever there is at the moment.
That’s why it’s been such a process getting this shit out of me and into some chronological story for the rest of the world (or the handful of people that might actually be interested) to read. I think it might be easier if this was a book on how to lose weight or how to start running with some funny antidotes here and there for you to laugh along side with me but this book is downright emotional. It’s “easy” to talk about mental illness, addiction and morbid obesity in the safe confines of a blog. My posts are short and too the point (at least the end result is short and too the point) and while the blog itself is extremely personal I feel like the process of putting this book together is more exposure than I’m ready for.
I’m not just a slow cooker when it come to writing. I’m a slow cooker when it comes to almost everything in my life. The same analogy can be used in weight loss as well. So many people want to lose weight and lose it so fast they don’t take the time to understand that there is going to be a lot of “clean” up if you don’t take the time to simmer. I chose to simmer along the way. I chose to stay in the moments and feel the emotions that came with the weight loss. I didn’t try to get to where I wanted to be as fast as possible because I knew the path there was filled with potholes of regret, confusion and as much sadness in losing the weight as there was happiness in gaining my life.
I’ve been crying a lot this week.
I’ve not been making the best choices in food.
I’ve not been moving as much.
I’m in a simmering point in my life right now. Just letting things be right where they need to be. At times I want to claw at my face to stop from feeling and at those very same moments I want to wrap my arms tightly around myself and whisper “it’s okay Tara”. I know part of the reason for my “SMB” (social media break) is because I’m deep in my own thoughts and emotions as I continue to write enough words to hopefully show someone the possibilities of a story to be told.
I have a lot of patience for myself that I didn’t have before. I have a lot of patience in many things that I didn’t have in the past. I’m easy to let go of anger and frustrations toward people and situations because as a slow cooker I take the time to think through my emotional reaction to things. It has been a hard lesson learned that above all things, I deserve to be the most patient with myself. I’m not spending too much time thinking about how I haven’t eaten the best, or moved the most. Instead I’m focusing on how hard it is emotionally to relive the story that is my life and to trust that the New Self of Tara will know when the time is right to let go of some Old Self of Tara behaviors.
I’m taking a few extra deep breaths this week (and in the coming weeks, months) as I continue to do what I need to do. While I *want* to write this book, I also *NEED* to write this damn thing. It’s the first thing in my life that I truly felt I needed to accomplish no matter how painful it is to see through to the end. I spend a lot of time thinking how no one will understand the emotional toll I’ve gone through just to get 20,000 words down. Sometimes I wonder if other people are as emotional when they write. This week I was writing about blueberries of all things and in the middle of my favorite coffee place I burst into tears because I was there in the middle of my story once again.
(fuck even now I’m totally tearing up because just thinking about what I wrote this week)
It hurts to think about writing. It hurts to think about NOT writing. I was born to do this. I was born to be something fantastic and even though life was kind of shitty along the way I’m still fighting to be that someone fantastic. My words are like the key to my emotional freedom. Without them I think I would just stop caring about my own life, my own journey.
Writing is like food.
I love and hate it all in the same bite.
But I have to do it.
For survival.
 It’s been a few weeks since I decided to get rid of my Facebook & Twitter apps on my phone. I am trying to disconnect from social media as much as possible in order to re-connect with myself and my environment.
It hasn’t been as easy as I was hoping and in all honesty it leaves a bad taste in my mouth that even after removing the apps from my phone I’m still trying to find ways of checking “in” when really what I want is to be doing is checking “out”.
It’s hard to find a balance of what works for me in understanding what my own definition of what “balance” means. I keep wondering if people have RT(ed), DM(ed) or IM(ed) me in anyway. I wonder how many likes I’ve gotten on my LifeChangingJourney Page or picture I’ve posted to Instagram.
What I’m looking for is validation and distraction all in one swoop of a moment (or 10…). Validation that what I say and do are important. The calorie burned, the miles ran, the food cooked all being carefully watched for by someone out there in social media land waiting to validate me. The minutes spent at the laptop mindlessly looking at Facebook while I throw some words down into a blog post / book page are really a way of distracting myself from the constant barrage of thoughts going through my head:
“Why do you keep blogging? You’re not the latest and greatest in weight loss blogs any longer“
“You still don’t have a job and you’re a burden“
“All those dreams of being someone big out there are never going to come true“
“What’s 5 minutes (10…25…60) on Facebook when you spend so much time alone during the day anyways”
“People are going to forget you”
“You are nothing”
I was writing a portion of the book yesterday and I was retelling about my addiction to electronics and especially World of Warcraft. There is a lot of similarities in the years I played WoW and how much time I spend interacting with the “media that is social” today. When I was playing WoW I didn’t have to be an active participant in my surroundings because my “life” was being played out on some MMORPG platform. I had friends (and enemies) that I interacted with on a daily basis. I didn’t have to worry that my physical and verbal “ticks” would surprise someone or that my inability to pick up social cues would make me look awkward. I could sit (and grow) in my chair and as long as my character continued to level up then no one would “judge” the real ME.
 Sometimes I think Facebook / Twitter and Instagram are doing the same thing for me today that WoW did for the old Tara back in the days. It’s providing me a social outlet because maybe I don’t want to be a participant in my own environment or just feel like it’s easier to do it with a phone in my hand and the world shut out around me.
Some of my closest friends are the one’s I talk to on WoW Facebook. Some of the most intense conversations I have are on WoW Twitter. Some of my most awesome accomplishments are captured via WoW Instagram.
See the pattern?
Being disconnected forces me to reconnect with myself. It forces me to sit with thoughts that are uncomfortable and know that 99% of the time the thoughts are without merit. I tell myself that I look at social media because I’m bored but the truth is I look at social media because it’s how I get my “social” fix. I’m still trying to figure out how to be Tara in the real life and not one lived behind a laptop / phone app / status update or filtered picture.
Mimi asked me last night how long this “break” from social media might last. I don’t know how to answer that because at the same time that I feel angst in bringing my “world” in a little closer to me, I feel a sense of calm that my world isn’t “out there” for everyone to see because I’m not “updating” my life every 10 minutes. The angst of “I’m going to miss out on some review/giveaway/ambassador” opportunity or some “important” conversation that I just have to be a part of sits side by side with the comfort of knowing that my life is okay not scrolling past me at 200 tweets per minute, or not being measured by how many “likes” a status update is getting.
I’m still trying to find some balance to this whole equation. I know I won’t give it up completely because it still connects me with people I care about and truth be told I’ve met some of the most amazing people in real life by first stalking meeting them on some social networking platform. But that being said, I think this ‘break’ is here for the long haul. It’s been a real lesson in not so much cutting the umbilical cord to my phone, social media and the outside world…
But rather plugging back into the world that surrounds me in the here and now.
 I often imagine this is what my emotional (not so) well being looked like before I began this Life Changing Journey of mine. An entire emotional “house” so chaotic I never knew where to start and always felt like it was going to be too much to deal with that I just never started.
Oh I mean I “sort of” started countless times.
I might have “cleaned out a corner of a room” and looked at it with pride, with my hands planted firmly on my hips and proclaimed “I will never let this corner get messy again”. I promised myself to stay in the moment and to let go of the past. I made a commitment to not feel guilty about previous attempts at cleaning up those boxes stuffed full of “the past”. I made a commitment to not let stacks of resentment and anger pile up in the corner next to the stacks of shame and self deprecation.
But that little corner of “This time is going to be different” never really lasted too long and many times never came to fruition because I always looked at the entire “house” and was too afraid of the (emotional) time it would take me to clean up almost 40 years of clutter. Not too long after the (umpteenth) declaration I was back to old behaviors and back to filling that once clean corner with the stacks of resentment/anger right along side with the stacks of shame/self deprecation.
I can’t tell you how many times I looked at my emotional (not so) well being and hung my head in defeat before I could even get started. Where do you start when you weigh 270 pounds, are addicted to video games, have chronic depression and all the social anxieties that come with Asperger’s?
If I had known the answer when I first started this journey it would have been a whole hell of a lot easier.
What I did know is how to clean out just a corner. I knew how to look at it and proclaim my commitment. The difference this time around is I refused to let the emotions of “now/then” keep me from moving forward. When I took that proverbial stack of self-deprecation and committed to throwing it out (again), I told myself that no matter how badly I wanted to hate myself I had to remember that I deserved to keep going. That the emotions of Now are because of the emotions of Then. Yes, I hated that I weighed 270 pounds. I hated that I was addicted to video games and food. I hated that I felt like Bulimia was “normal”. When I resorted to the hateful thoughts, I continued to remind myself that I was worthy of love and that love must start from within.
The stacks of shame were piling up because I believed I was destined to be a failure and that no matter how hard I tried I would always fulfill that prophecy of being a failure. Yes I hated that I had tried numerous times to lose weight and each time the weight came back with a vengeance. I hated that I didn’t know how to have a conversation with someone unless I was in the middle of World of Warcraft or at work. I hated that at 40 years old I allowed my life to be so meaningless to me that I was willing to live out the rest of my days shrouded in a cloud of depression. When I restored to feeling shame, I continued to remind myself that the choices of my past no longer dictate what happens in my future.
When I wanted to fill that clean corner with old behaviors I stopped myself. I reminded myself that no matter how much “easier” it might feel to just chuck garbage into the corner and let it rot, it was better to deal with whatever was happening and let it go. As the months went by I stopped focusing on how much emotional work it was going to take for me to “clean the entire house” and focused on another corner…
Eventually 4 corners cleaned a room.
Multiple rooms cleaned one floor of the house.
And multiple floors finally cleaned my house.
There are still many days in which I feel the stacks wanting to pile up in the corners. I think to myself “oh this is just one bad thought” or “one not so good food choice” or “I’ve only been on the computer for a few hours today” and I convince myself that I can put “cleaning” off until things get really messy.
But that doesn’t work anymore.
The way to keep my emotional (so very) well being is to deal with shit as it happens. To feel the emotions and move on. Cry, stomp, yell, laugh, spit, swear, and scream my way through whatever is in front of me. The past doesn’t have a place in my life anymore and if I don’t deal with shit as it happens then it too becomes a part of the clutter that got me to where I didn’t want to be back in 2009. I am constantly cleaning house, putting things where they belong and getting rid of things that take up space and don’t help me grow in any way, shape or form.
People who hold on to emotional garbage can only live in garbage filled houses.
And that’s not any way to live.
Maybe it’s time you started cleaning up your own emotional (not so) well being stacks of (insert whatever you want here). Stop focusing on all the rooms on all the floors of your big old house. Clean that corner and then tape it off so you remember to keep it clean. Every time you want to put something there because you just don’t want to deal with it, remind yourself that you deserve to move forward and chase after everything you ever wanted…
It can only happen if you have a clear path in front of you.
And the path starts with the corner.
 When I left the Tacoma to move to Halifax I didn’t really leave too much behind. Don’t get me wrong, I have a strong love for the 253 and the Big Brother city of Seattle. What I knew I loved about where I was from was easily found in the place I was going. I’m as close to the open waters in Halifax as I was out West. My love for “local” Starbucks easily replaced by my new found local love Java Blend. The hours spent running through Old Town Tacoma, Point Defiance Park and Chambers Bay easily replaced by Point Pleasant Park, Shubie and the Chain of Lakes trails and even though I miss my friends and colleagues terribly, I’ve forged some pretty incredible friends here in Atlantic Canada…
What I miss more than I could even begin to explain is my niece Amy.
All I can say is thank goodness for face time.
Being able to see her face when our schedules allow has helped lessen the angst I feel when I think about being this far away from her. I’ve made a lot of decisions in my life based on whether or not it would affect her in any way and even moving to Halifax to be with Mimi didn’t come without the “what about Amy” thought process…
This past Christmas Amy did something that brought tears to my eyes as I realized this little sumo baby of a girl that’s been the light of my life is in fact a grown woman about to embark on a new journey:
She got engaged.
Now there’s one thing I would not miss for anything and that’s being back in the 253 to watch my little ray of sunshine marry her perfect match come September 21st of this year…
But in order not miss this once in a lifetime event Mimi and I have had to come to the hard to decision that traveling back to the West Coast twice in a short amount of time is not financially possible considering our current work situation (meaning she works and I still can’t and we don’t have a few thousand dollars just laying around to fly back and forth on a whim).
After hours of discussion and lots of emotions we both know that attending Fitbloggin13 this year just isn’t going to happen.
It’s hard not to feel disappointed at the thought of not going when we had such an amazing time last year. The discussion we moderated was awesome and the general consensus was that it was heart felt and much needed. As soon as we were on our way back to Halifax we began to talk about Fitbloggin13 and our plans to return. When the call for sessions was announced we immediately threw in our names and when we found out that we would be returning once again as moderators we started scheming on how we were going to make it work. Donations started coming in to help offset the cost of airline tickets and we set about trying to make two trips back West in a short amount of time doable…
But then reality set in.
It’s not possible (unless one of us hits the lotto and since I’m not sure I can even participate in the Canadian lotto system I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen anytime soon). Taking a big deep breath, a resignation of knowing what is true, we have officially withdrawn from Fitbloggin13.
Yes we’ll miss all our friends (including those that we would have made while in Portland) but now we can focus on what’s really important to both of us and that’s seeing Amers walk down the aisle and beginning a new chapter in her life. This will also give us more time to be on the West Coast visiting the places that I miss without feeling rushed. We’ve begun making a new itinerary to include a road trip down to San Francisco (Mimi’s never been) and making sure to see as many people as possible while we’re back on the West Coast.
It was a hard decision.
It is the right decision.
No doubt about it.
I don’t have money to buy you flowers but if I did they might look something like this:
I don’t have any money to buy you diamonds but if I did they might look like this:
I don’t have any money to buy you house but if I did it might look like this:
I don’t have any money to buy you a cute puppy with a bow but if I did it might look like this:
and because I love cute puppies here’s a couple more…
Even if I could buy you all these things I know the most valuable Valentine’s gift doesn’t come with a price tag.
Happy Valentine’s Day Mimi.
I love you.
 When I coach people I talk a lot about doing damage control and cultivating the seeds of change. It sounds rather hokey but the concept behind both are very important in my own journey of Life Changes. Damage control means I look around in areas of my life that I would like to change, improve or explore more closely and decide what small “fires” need to be put out in order to really focus on the change, the improvement or the exploration.
Just like a car, I wouldn’t wait until the engine fell out to fix what was wrong. I keep my eye on the mileage, have the oil changed regularly, and try to keep Dusty in the best condition for the situation at hand. For me damage control sometimes comes in the form of changing food foundations, deciding to count or not count calories or taking a few extra days off of from working out to give my muscles a chance to repair. I don’t wait until something is terribly “wrong” in my life. I keep my eye on how I feel emotionally and physically and make the necessary changes to prevent complete “engine failure”.
Cultivating the seed means to plant something then a) take care of it or b) let it wither and die. For too long the way I “cultivated” my emotional well being was to verbally abuse myself. I’d look in the mirror and proclaim my hate for all that was me. I didn’t feed my body the way it deserved to be fed. Not that long ago I would have rather put my hand in a paper bag searching for that last cold french fry at the bottom of the bag than spend time in the kitchen creating foods and when I was in the kitchen the food I was making was good but it wasn’t good for me.
I wasn’t moving.
I wasn’t eating well.
I was choosing option B.
Slowly (and with a lot of patience) I began to choose option A and over the last 3 years I’ve turned my life completely around. Not just in weight loss but in my own mental illness and my understanding of who I am in this world. In the process I’ve also learned that my well being must come above any one else’s well being if I am to be successful in my own journey. You’ll hear me say over and over again “Take care of you, and the rest will fall into place”.
Sometimes taking care of you can feel overwhelming.
The decisions being made can feel big.
And they can feel downright silly.
That’s where I am today. I need to do some damage control in my own life. I need to focus on things that are important to me and let go of things that are taking up too much of my time and leave me feeling less than stellar at the end of the day. It seems silly that I would need to let go of a large aspect of social media but that’s just what I need to do. I hate it right now. I hate the feeling of looking at my phone for long periods of time when what I’m reading isn’t helping me move forward. I hate the notion of feeling jealousy because I’m not an ambassador for this company or that company. I hate feeling like I’m not as good as (insert name here) because I don’t have 10,000 likes on my Facebook page or don’t have as many followers on Twitter. I feel like I’m fishing around to be a part of something else because once again I want to feel important, I want to be included and I want people to take notice of me. Instead of focusing on being a part of something “else” I need to focus on being a part of the “Self”
I need to cultivate the seeds that I’ve planted in feeling good about myself and right now Facebook/Twitter/Social media is not leaving me in a good place. I spend too much time wondering what other people are doing instead of getting my own shit together. I am spending too much time comparing them to me instead of me “then” to me now. I’m spending way too much time thinking “why are they so fucking popular and why is (insert company) sponsoring them” instead of remembering that I’ve lost 115 pounds, I am on my way to becoming an Iron(wo)man and I generally kick ass in all aspects of my life.
Spending time on my phone does not an Iron(wo)man make.
Spending time on Facebook does not an Iron(wo)man make.
Spending time on Twitter does not an Iron(wo)man make.
So I’m taking a little break. The apps are gone off my phone and I’m already working through the angst of not automatically looking at my phone in order to procrastinate just a little longer. You know it can’t be good when you’re angsty over the thought of not having social media apps on your phone. Something has to change because of the two options for cultivating the seeds of change, option A is the really the only option.
I’m not shutting down social media 100%. Just on the phone (which probably makes up about 90% of the total time spent each day mindlessly scrolling through cat pictures, random YouTube links and other people’s plank times). I’m also disabling comments on the blog for the time being because in the end I’ve also allowed the number of comments I do/don’t get affect my emotional well being. I’ll still be around but it’s going to be a minority of my time instead of the majority.
So there ya go. Cutting back on social media so I can refocus on what’s important to me: Working out, eating well, running far and most importantly moving forward on my own Life Changing Journey.
 Yep…
400.
For the last 400 posts I’ve shared everything that is my life. No holds bar. The fears, the triumphs, the miles run, the pounds lost. The leaving of what was comfortably known and the finding of love in the most unexpected of places. Three years I’ve diligently sat down at my laptop, taken a deep breath and much like a emotional cry with a good friend, I’ve learned to let go of the old self and ever so patiently learn to love the new self.
I wonder if there is ever going to be a time in which I stop blogging. If my life changes will be much less motivating for the world to read. I’m at a precarious place right now with the whole idea of social media and trying to find “my brand”. I feel like I’m swimming upstream. Wanting people to pay attention to me and what I have to offer in the way of motivation/inspiration/get up off your ass and move determination and yet as the attention is turned my way I find myself wanting to turn away. Wondering if I deserve it. Wondering what makes me special. Wondering if losing the significant amount of weight is really that big of a deal and maybe I should just quietly slip into the corner and let someone else more deserving get some attention.
I know the reasons behind this feeling of “Tara, you’re nothing special”. It started when I began Life Coaching other people on their own weight loss journeys. For so long I’ve wanted to sit down and just talk with people about what keeps them from moving forward. I want people to know that they are not alone in whatever they are feeling at one particular moment or another and that I absolutely understand the emotional side of weight loss. Here I am doing what I’ve wanted to do for so long and yet I question my ability. Who am I? How can I dole out advice/understanding and a perspective maybe they’ve not yet explored?
I’ve returned to writing that much overdue book that I’ve barely even mentioned here. I mean who wouldn’t be excited to be writing a book about overcoming drug addiction, losing 100+ pounds and becoming a marathoner? For Christ’s sake I get excited just thinking about a book out there with this much depth…but written by someone more deserving than me. The only problem is that it’s my story and I am the only one deserving of writing it.
I’ve been a little hard on myself emotionally as of late. Finding it harder to stand tall and proud over all the life changes that have happened during the last 400 posts. Having to fight more to keep negative thoughts about who I see in the mirror / the body I work hard to keep in maintenance / and the love and desire I have to help other people move forward.
So here I am at post 400 sort of feeling like I want to hunker in the corner and watch the world go by:
but knowing that I am as much a part of this world as the next person.
As I sit down everyday and promise to type out my 500 words towards a book that will hopefully sit on a shelf someday, I remind myself that I am important. As I sit down with those that want to move forward on their own journeys, I remind myself that I am important. As I look in the mirror and wonder what is the point to everything I strive to do I remind myself:
That I am important.
(can you use the same reminder?)
 Have you ever been so tangled up inside you’re at a loss to find some cohesion in your emotions?
That’s how I’m feeling this week.
I know the words are inside of me. The emotions, the tears, the immense love for those around me both near and far. The feeling of “why is this world such a fucked up place?” and “how am I supposed to make sense of anything when right now so many things don’t make sense at all?”
I feel awkward in my existence right now. This blog, when it first became the inception of 263andcounting was about weight loss and my daily workouts at the gym with Superman and Godfather. Over time it slowly turned into much more than just the weekly weigh ins, the miles run and the journey from a size 24 to a size 8 pair of jeans.
It has become about living life.
It has become about finding the strength to live in the face of fear, in the confusion of changes and in standing up as tall as possible even when I’ve fallen flat on my face. It has become about standing on the edge of the unknown and with all my heart jumping as fiercely off that edge and waiting to be caught in the arms of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. About understanding that my gender is as fluid as water in a glass and will shape and mold according to what I believe and not what others believe.
It has become about making sure my eyes are open, my emotions are allowed and in all of words that I lay here to rest, in hopes that someone will find comfort, I am finally fully participating in my life instead of watching the days go by and wondering “is this all there is?”
This week has been one that I would rather just tuck away and forget about. The kind where you sit down, take a deep breath and wonder if you can just sleep away the next few weeks in hope of finding some comfort in the sadness that surrounds you. A few days ago I learned that a friend I worked closely with during my days at Sorenson had succumbed to the cancer that had attacked her body for many years. I haven’t seen her since leaving almost 2 years ago but knew through updates of those still close to her that it was just a matter of time. When she was first diagnosed, the prognosis was not about the years left but months. In the face of death she had life. She made peace with how the ending of her story would be told but she continued to add chapters to that story far beyond what the doctors thought. They told her to get her affairs in order and what she did was continued to fight for years after. Seeing her daughter not only marry but becoming a grandmother along the way. I remember she would tell me that she may have not had been the best person in the choices and decisions that she made. I would tell her that the choices and decisions of the past do not dictate who we become in the present and in those words I was able to forge my own present instead of living in the past.
I’m saddened at her loss not just because she was my friend and cubicle mate for many years, but because on the fateful night of December 29, 2009 when I proclaimed my life changing desire to stand up and take control she was there with me along with 2 other people. She watched the transformation day in and day out and always was quick to keep me enveloped in encouragement.
(Thank you for your friendship Deb)
A passing of a friend is never easy.
Add to it a second passing in a matter of days and life feels heavy.
 I’m not even sure how to comprehend the passing of my friend Dave. As of this writing I don’t even know what happened I just know he’s not here anymore. He’s on the right. This picture was taken last summer when Mimi and I headed back to Tacoma to see friends and family, retrieve Dusty and begin the 10-day, 3500+ mile drive across Canada back to Halifax. The men in this picture were more than my friends back in the days of being a body piercer, working in the tattoo shop with Gary (on the left). They were my family. I spent the best white trash holidays with them a girl/boy from the 253 could ask for; “Thanksgiving in a Can” (everything we ate came from can), “Jello Christmas” (everything we made had to contain jello), shootin possums (they shot, I watched), and if ever a man was able to perfect the “Bad Boy with a heart of pure gold”, it was Dave.
Funny thing is that when I left body piercing I didn’t see either of them for many many years. I would drive by the tattoo shop and think about stopping in but never did. I moved back to Tacoma and the memories of days gone by stored themselves away.
Last year, through the divine intervention of social media I tracked them down on Facebook along with a few of the other kids from the tattoo shop. When Mimi and I got married we ventured into my friend Roni’s shop and just like old times I sat in her chair getting a part of my story etched into my skin. Roni didn’t recognize me but that’s expected when the last time you see someone they weigh almost 300 pounds. It didn’t take long for me to be caught up in the lives of the friends I didn’t realize I missed so very much.
When we returned in June I made sure I got to see both Gary and Dave, even if just for a short time. I missed them both more than I realized the second I saw them. They hadn’t seen me either since losing the weight and it took a little time for them to adjust to who they were looking at but it didn’t take long before we were talking about old times and poor Mimi may have just come to really understand how much white trash blood pulses in my veins after meeting these guys.
Right after this picture was taken, Dave put his arms around me and said “You’ve done real good Tara. You look great. Meegan is absolutely beautiful and you are going in the right direction of your life“. We talked about seeing each other again when I was able to come back and parted ways as if it had only been weeks and not years since we last saw each other.
Yesterday I got news that he passed away.
Suddenly and unexpectedly.
Of all the people I could have seen when I went home last summer the universe put him in my path and I am forever grateful for that last hug, that last pat on the back and that last completely contagious smile that made “Crazy” Dave one amazingly bad boy with a heart of gold.
(Thank you for your friendship Dave)
I am saddened this week to the point of being exhausted. I miss everything back home immensely and wish I could just sit down with a few people and have a good cry over the loss of two friends in such a short amount of time. No one here in Halifax even knows who I’m talking about when I mention them. Mimi was fortunate enough to have spent a few hours with Dave and through friends she shared conversations about Deb and the progression of her cancer. But I don’t have that strong embrace and “remember when” connection with anyone here. That silent pause between two people as you think about the passing of someone and the memories shared with those that knew them the same as you.
I miss my neice Amy as she prepares for her wedding and I’m not able to sit down over coffee and tell her how much I love her and how I wished she was still that adorable 5 year old with a cast on her arm flinging herself into my open arms never to let go. I miss my aunt Kathee as she continues to forge ahead in life showing me that there is indeed life beyond the 52 years my mother lived. I miss my brother Kerry as I mourn the alcoholism that will probably take him from this place sooner than later. I miss my brother Kevin who, through all the muck that is this Carlson family, reminds me that while he may not be able to be a part of all that defines me, he is a still part of the definition of Tara.
In the sadness of those separated from me in distance and now in life itself, I find comfort in the love of those close by. The strong embrace and comforting words from my beautiful Mimi, the acceptance in her family as I ever so cautiously strip away my inherit definition of family and rewrite that chapter of my own story and the new friends I forge life long memories with here in this tiny corner of the world known as Halifax and in this insignificant blog once known as 263andcounting but now known for what life really is…
A Life Changing Journey.
There are a few things I’ve had to get accustom to since moving to Halifax 14 months ago.
Things like mail is not delivered on Saturdays, nothing is open on Sundays and it’s more likely than not that 3 or 4 cars will zoom through the yellow/red light while you’re waiting to turn left with absolutely no regard to the fact that you’re waiting to turn left.
I’ve had to become accustom to different currencies, seeing most things in English and French and the ever popular extra “u” added to just about every word you can think of thanks to the British Rule (though why a country under British rule is so entrenched in French still perplexes me).
The other thing I’ve had to get used to is the weather and especially the winters here in Atlantic Canada. I won’t lie: I’m a wuss. But only because my whole life I’ve been in Western WA and if you’re from there then you know what I’ve experienced these last two winters has been nothing but bone chilling cold. This winter is worse than last year’s. It was like Mother Nature tipped her head in my direction a year ago and said “Tara, this first winter is on me...”
Not being one to just sit inside under an electric blanket with a cup of hot chocolate waiting for Spring to…well spring I suppose, I’m learning the ways of the Haligonians. Dress warm. Have a good pair of boots and for the love of all that is pure stay on top of the snow shoveling…
This is probably where you’re asking yourself “Just where is Tara going with this” and to be honest I’m not really sure. When I sit down to blog I don’t normally have a plan of action of how to get thoughts into words and words into a blog post. I see things in pictures, concepts and correlations. But be patient because I’m pretty sure what I see in my head all ties into a pretty major message about weight loss and our journeys of Life Changes.
I was out the other day after another snow storm, with shovel in hand and clearing the parking lot to my apartment building. After the parking lot, I did the sidewalk and stairs in front of my building. After that I hit the sidewalk that runs along the side of our building. But here’s the thing; I’m not responsible for any of it. I’m responsible for my back porch/stairs and my parking spot. That’s it. Even on the worst of days it would take me just a few minutes to clear the way of what is just *my* responsibility.
I could just do the bare minimum and be done.
Not give another thought to those around me.
Let them fend for themselves.
I notice that a lot these days. People just doing the bare minimum and not giving a thought to those around them. Letting everyone fend for themselves and never thinking about the responsibility we have as a community of people. Walk around Halifax, during a snow storm for a few blocks and you’ll see it. Their stairs are clean, their walk way is clean, and maybe just a few squares of the actual side walk will be cleared but usually only if it’s connected to their property some how. Bare minimum without thought to anyone else around them.
I think that weight loss is just the same. We only want to do the absolute bare minimum. We don’t want to change our food too much or exercise too much. We want to take a magic pill that comes in the form of a shake from some company that gives about as much of a crap about us as the industry that says “Would you like to super-size your meal today?” We don’t want to spend time thinking about our environment both in the physical realm as well as the emotional realm. We don’t want to think about why we’re fat or how the changes we need to make to not be fat anymore go far beyond just eating a salad that counts as 3 points on your Weight Watchers meal plan.
I don’t want to be out there in the freezing cold for 60 minutes at a time trying to clear away snow that was never my responsibility in the first place but I am. I don’t believe in the bare minimum anymore. I don’t believe that if I sit under my electric blanket and WISH the snow away it’s just going to magically happen. I have to put the work into what I want done.
But here’s the kicker:
I put in the extra work because I also care about anyone else that might come along. Just maybe as I’m clearing away the sidewalk, and smile at the person walking by, they’ll think about doing the same for someone else. They’ll think about going beyond the bare minimum and really put in the work necessary to take care of the community around them. As I shovel the snow around my building and help my neighbor shovel their property I’m taking pride in what’s around me. I’m taking pride in my ability to go beyond the bare minimum and instead of forcing my world to be confined by walls of “this is mine, this is yours” mentality I’m experiencing life, building friendships and letting go of the “magic pill” concept even in weight loss.
I talk to anyone that doesn’t mind me striking up a conversation about weight loss because bare minimum doesn’t work. I lay it all on the line here on the blog because bare minimum doesn’t work. I spend time in my kitchen cooking real food and sharing recipes because bare minimum doesn’t work.
I share all the ups and downs of this journey.
Bare minimum doesn’t work.
Everything I do, I think about the people I can motivate and inspire to move forward on their own journey. When I feel like quitting I think about whether or not someone can be affected by the bare minimum of my actions and then I keep going because this journey just isn’t about me losing weight, keeping it off and becoming an athlete. It’s about living in my proverbial community and knowing that the potential I found in myself, can help others find it in themselves and they in turn can help someone find their potential.
If you’re sitting around wondering why this journey is hard for you, why the weight won’t come off or why the weight you did lose seems to always find it’s way back and bring a few friends with them ask yourself if you’re just trying to get a way with the bare minimum. Are you going above and beyond, doing what needs to be done to make this the last time you start over or are you under that electric blanket *wishing* the work would just magically happen?
It took a long time for that fire to get lit for me. The feeling of get up and get after it with a vengeance. That feeling of nothing is going to get in the way of finding the potential that I deserve to experience. But the reason it took so long was because I continued to look down at the bare minimum and think that was all I needed to do…
Maybe it’s time you looked up.
See what’s around you.
Grab the shovel.
Get After It!
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