When I was 23, I was diagnosed with what can be simplified as Lung Disease. The treatment involved steroids and regardless of what I ate, didn't eat, how much I worked out, or sat on my couch, I gained weight. My young size 0/2 and firm body blew up. I don't know how much I gained; I asked the nursing staff to stop weighing me at my third follow up appointment and they did not argue. The stretch marks left from what my body went through are deep and many. My hips and upper thighs look scarred.
I have always been hard on myself, no one has a greater expectation of me than me. I didn't grow up being self conscious of my body or weight. The after of a disease that could have taken my life combined with other life occurrences at time resulted in me becoming self conscious. My well taken care of skin, look scarred in some places. I stopped wearing shorts and would avoid events requiring a bathing suit.
Life would eventually lead to pregnancy, and the weight loss and gain many busy moms experience. I would eventually begin to scrutinize every inch of my thighs and stomach. My eyes seems to focus on only flaws. I saw every deep scar stretch mark and the eventual cottage cheese cellulite. I never saw survival or strength. I only saw not good enough.
Trying on clothes or even clothes shopping became a chore, something to be avoided. I didn't want to deal with how I would feel in those lights, with those mirrors, in that size.
We moved to Florida at the end of last year for my job. I will say it - I was terrified of the need to wear a bathing suit and shorts again. I almost didn't apply for the promotion.
When taking our son to his favorite store, I saw a Bar Method studio. I longed for something like this, it was not offered where our last move had taken us. Relo and one salary for an unspecified amount of time in a higher cost of living place, I signed up anyway.
I have consistently attended Bar classes 3-5 times a week since January. The group there is amazing and I would do anything for any one of them. The schedule of classes allows me to attend regularly despite my job, which often has me at work at odd times of morning/night (2am, 10pm, etc).
The consistency has allowed me to survive a hard relo, I've concentrated so hard on diamond thigh, standing seat, planks, push ups, that I was able to de-stress and focus on positive. Inches have disappeared, my body leaned out, muscles and definition appeared. I have noticed all of this, but I have been so focused on form, on pushing myself more, that I didn't really notice.
I didn't notice I have worn shorts in public, I didn't notice I walked around in a bathing suit in a public place twice in May. I didn't notice I look at definition now and not the scars. I didn't notice my body self confidence returned.
Earlier this week, I set up for water seat ski, I fell back with a wide arm grip as required and saw, really saw my arms. At first, I didn't believe they were mine. Right there in that moment, I realized how physically strong I was. I realized how physically and mentally strong I had always been, but Bar Method needed to remind me. Bar Method saved my mental state for relo, and Bar Method gave me myself back.
I smiled briefly, remembering how mentally strong I have always been, even when I didn't give myself credit. I smiled briefly realizing I could totally out push up my once athletic brother.
So while Bar Method has changed my body, more importantly it has changed my mindset and improved my self confidence. Bar Method has given me back to me.
Thursday, June 1, 2017
Friday, May 12, 2017
The Blog is Back: Happy Mother's Day!
"Yes, and now I am going to go tell your mother her baby is ok." Those were the words spoken to me post c-section when I asked my OBGYN if my baby was ok. You see Dr. Hill knew my mother longer than me. She was the only gynecologist I had known since 16. She watched me become a young adult and then delivered my child, making me a mom.
I was 25. I was 25 and had a baby. It took her words for me to realize, my mom had a baby too. I was that baby. Of course, I knew my mom had a baby, she had two actually. Until those words were spoken to me, it never occurred to me, she had gone through this entire process too.
You see back then, there was no reveal party with cake to cut revealing a dyed inside, blue balloons didn't fly, no cute staged picture was taken. My mom and I didn't sit around discussing my feelings and emotions during pregnancy, nor did we discuss hers. I was 25 with no idea what I wanted to do with my life and could barely afford my bills.
It wasn't how I thought I would become a mom. I didn't actually plan on becoming a mom. I figured I would look up from my desk one day at 40 and realize I forgot to have kids. Some days that was because I forgot to find a potential child's father too. I am currently writing this blog at 39, with a husband and a 13 year old son. I work for a Fortune 300 company. The dog just licked my leg, apparently he can read and knows he wasn't mentioned.
To say the last 13 years of my life have been easy would be the biggest lie ever told... or at least it would be up there with Judas' denial. The last 13 years of my life have been relaxing, strenuous, full of both joy and sorrow, mistakes, denial, questions. Full body shaking laughter, and full body shake crying, the kind where you stop breathing and may throw up, filled in the gaps. The real deal teeter totters between a Lifetime movie and the next King novel.
The last 13 years of my life, have reiterated one simple fact. My mom is an angel on Earth. She is the strongest, bravest, most fearless woman I know. My mom has a work ethic matched by no one. My mom has the strength of an elephant and the ferocious protection of a lion. Don't let her holiday themed sweaters, hair bun, and perfect skin fool you. She's pretty tough.
My mom was a divorced single mother of 2 under 4, one in diapers, and a full time nursing career. On 2nd shift. In ICU. She was on her feet all shift, came home to sleeping children she was working hard to raise, but not seeing often, at least not awake. Then an entire other job started at midnight or so when she packed lunches, and did laundry, and often cooked dinner for the babysitter so she only had to warm it up the next day. This was life until I was in 8th grade and she moved to Same Day Surgery, with better hours, hours she wishes she had when we were younger.
Of course there is more to the story, but that isn't my story to tell.
I never realized what those years were probably like for my mom until I became a mom. In an exhausted state of doing laundry in the middle of the night with a few week old baby and two grade school aged step-children, it occurred to me how very tired my mom must have been, every day, for a decade.
As a child, I never saw her break. She was a strong pillar of strength and perfection. I asked her once how she did it, she just shrugged and said you just do, no other choice. She probably doesn't recall this conversation, but every day since then, I have just done it, maybe not always the best way, but the best way I knew at the time.
My mom raised two children always putting us first. Always. To be honest, she may have had the same underwear for a long time while we ran around in KSwiss, Tretorn and Jordans. She put us both through 12 years of Catholic school and then paid for our Bachelor's degrees at expensive Liberal Arts Ohio colleges.
Today she called me to tell me her mother's day gift was too generous. I would have laughed and said "really, mom?", but my toe had just slammed into one of the kid's Jordans on my way to answer call.
If I end up being half the mother my mom has been, my kid will be very lucky. I am a product of my mom's perseverance and strength.
I was 25. I was 25 and had a baby. It took her words for me to realize, my mom had a baby too. I was that baby. Of course, I knew my mom had a baby, she had two actually. Until those words were spoken to me, it never occurred to me, she had gone through this entire process too.
You see back then, there was no reveal party with cake to cut revealing a dyed inside, blue balloons didn't fly, no cute staged picture was taken. My mom and I didn't sit around discussing my feelings and emotions during pregnancy, nor did we discuss hers. I was 25 with no idea what I wanted to do with my life and could barely afford my bills.
It wasn't how I thought I would become a mom. I didn't actually plan on becoming a mom. I figured I would look up from my desk one day at 40 and realize I forgot to have kids. Some days that was because I forgot to find a potential child's father too. I am currently writing this blog at 39, with a husband and a 13 year old son. I work for a Fortune 300 company. The dog just licked my leg, apparently he can read and knows he wasn't mentioned.
To say the last 13 years of my life have been easy would be the biggest lie ever told... or at least it would be up there with Judas' denial. The last 13 years of my life have been relaxing, strenuous, full of both joy and sorrow, mistakes, denial, questions. Full body shaking laughter, and full body shake crying, the kind where you stop breathing and may throw up, filled in the gaps. The real deal teeter totters between a Lifetime movie and the next King novel.
The last 13 years of my life, have reiterated one simple fact. My mom is an angel on Earth. She is the strongest, bravest, most fearless woman I know. My mom has a work ethic matched by no one. My mom has the strength of an elephant and the ferocious protection of a lion. Don't let her holiday themed sweaters, hair bun, and perfect skin fool you. She's pretty tough.
My mom was a divorced single mother of 2 under 4, one in diapers, and a full time nursing career. On 2nd shift. In ICU. She was on her feet all shift, came home to sleeping children she was working hard to raise, but not seeing often, at least not awake. Then an entire other job started at midnight or so when she packed lunches, and did laundry, and often cooked dinner for the babysitter so she only had to warm it up the next day. This was life until I was in 8th grade and she moved to Same Day Surgery, with better hours, hours she wishes she had when we were younger.
Of course there is more to the story, but that isn't my story to tell.
I never realized what those years were probably like for my mom until I became a mom. In an exhausted state of doing laundry in the middle of the night with a few week old baby and two grade school aged step-children, it occurred to me how very tired my mom must have been, every day, for a decade.
As a child, I never saw her break. She was a strong pillar of strength and perfection. I asked her once how she did it, she just shrugged and said you just do, no other choice. She probably doesn't recall this conversation, but every day since then, I have just done it, maybe not always the best way, but the best way I knew at the time.
My mom raised two children always putting us first. Always. To be honest, she may have had the same underwear for a long time while we ran around in KSwiss, Tretorn and Jordans. She put us both through 12 years of Catholic school and then paid for our Bachelor's degrees at expensive Liberal Arts Ohio colleges.
Today she called me to tell me her mother's day gift was too generous. I would have laughed and said "really, mom?", but my toe had just slammed into one of the kid's Jordans on my way to answer call.
If I end up being half the mother my mom has been, my kid will be very lucky. I am a product of my mom's perseverance and strength.
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