Wow.
Just wow.
Your love, support, kind words, and validation about yesterdayās post have blown me away.
As I took a few moments to scroll through some of your comments after my yoga class this morning, I was overcome with emotions.
Overwhelmed.
Humbled.
Grateful.
Affirmed.
Accepted.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted to feel.
Accepted. Enough. Worthy. Loved. Supported.
I’ve been so touchedĀ that I’ve been brought to tears several times today.
Happy tears.
Healing tears.
Tears that warm my face and my heart.
Tears that give me permission to let go of what has happened and look forward to what is to come.
Tears that remind me how every single step of my journey has been necessary to get me to this place.
As I wrote in my previous post, it was difficult for me to reconcile that the picture of health I saw when I looked in the mirror and the picture that validated my career and identity for several years was not a picture of health at all.
But I now know that I had to go through that journey to get to where I am today, to have this perspective.
Listening to my body and sharing my story is one of the most liberating things Iāve ever done.
When weĀ care enough about ourselves to look beyond who our careers want us to be, who our families need us to be, or who society expects to see when we put ourselves out into the world, that’s when we’re being real and when self-discovery begins.
As Iāve heeded my bodyās wisdom over the past two years to regulate certain systems that werenāt working, Iāve also moved my body less than ever before, as the nature of my job requires me to spend more time traveling and sitting.
Although some of my weight gain has been due to moving less, Iām not going to āpunishā my body for losing its physical strength and tone.
I could choose to feel how I’ve felt in the past:
Shame.
Guilt.
Blame.
Disgust.
But Iām not.
I canāt. Not anymore.
Not after all my body has done for me and what is has been for me.
Does this mean Iām āsettlingā with where I am and how my body is right now?
Have I āgiven upā or stopped ātryingā?
Nope.
Not even close.
Iām just giving up fighting myself and my body.
Iām committingĀ to moving in ways that bring me joy and make me feel good ā NIA, yoga, Zumba, walking, hiking, barre, and group exercise classes with fun instructors who inspire me.
If I want to go for a run, try spinning again, or move in any other way, Iāll be doing it because I WANT to, not because Iām punishing myself or because I HAVE to.
But I havenāt given up.
It hasnāt been a perfect year in this body.
But it didn’t have to be.
Through my imperfections, I’ve learned to be grateful for all my body HAS done for me.
This is the body that has brought me through theĀ most transformational and exciting year of my career. I feel more purposeful and intentional than I’ve ever felt in the work that I do. I know I’m doing exactly what I’m meant to be doing.
I’ve felt radiant, alive, and inspired.
Iāve received nationalĀ recognition for my work and reached more people in the past year than ever before.
Iāve traveled to dozens of companies to speak to leadership teams, human resources professionals, and employee groups about what it means to be well.
I’ve stretched myself by teaching groupĀ cooking classes for the first time ever.
I’ve spokenĀ at a womenās retreat.
I’ve even beenĀ invited to speak at a national conference in April.
And I’ve started writing my first book.
In those moments when I lose sight of how far I’ve come and creep back to my old ways of thinking about my body, I remindĀ myself again of my nutritionistās wisdom:
Your body is doing its best for you. It always has.
YoursĀ is, too.
As we enter 2016, can we promise to be kinder, gentler and more compassionate with ourselvesĀ and each other and with our bodies?
Can we stop fighting with ourselves and shaming our bodies andĀ start listeningĀ to our body’s inherent wisdom and giving it what it needs?
Can we begin toĀ value our overall health, well-being, energy, and vitalityĀ rather than define our success solely by the number on the scale?
Can we pledge toĀ move in ways that make us feel alive, playful and strongĀ and move away fromĀ what feels like punishment?
Can weĀ honor our bodies enough to nourish and heal themĀ with whole, real, from-the-earth foodĀ rather than numbing our feelings with pseudo-food?
Can we make a conscious effort toĀ authentically connect with other peopleĀ in real life, not justĀ through texts, emails and social media?
Can we focus less on what we donāt have and more onĀ how we can give to other people andĀ bring goodness and kindness into the world?
Can weĀ create space for other people to be vulnerableĀ andĀ safe to share theirĀ struggles and their stories?
In her book,Ā Stones of Remembrance, Lois Evans captures the significanceĀ of sharing our stories:
āRemembering our own stories helps us; and when we tell our stories, others know they are not alone [ā¦]Ā Our stories give others permission to be imperfect, permission to struggle, permission to question their ownĀ unknown futures.ā
I donāt know what your story is or what youāre struggling with right now, but I know all of us have fears around telling our story, about letting the TRUTH about ourselves be known.
I’m giving you permission to do it.
To tell your story.
To remind you thatĀ you’re not alone.
To encourage you thatĀ you don’t have to be perfect.
Brene Brown, whose book,Ā The Gift of Imperfection,Ā resonated with my heart earlier this week, inspired me to close out the year with these words:
Owning our story andĀ loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.
Hereās to 2016.
Hereās toĀ being Kind
Compassionate
And Brave.
Hereās toĀ owning our story and loving ourselves.