Getting in Shape - From Body to Mind

I'm not anyone special, just your average girl from Arizona. This story isn't meant to be anything extravagant. It's just my story about my journey with losing weight and learning to love myself—all of me. I hope it inspires someone. 

 From a young age, I struggled with my body. I was always chubby but never considered myself to be extremely overweight. Regardless, I was bullied in school for a long time. A lot of comments were made about my being "fat” and telling me to lay off the potato chips. A group of boys would even tell me that I looked like a dog and would bark at me when I walked by them. This lasted for the majority of my school career. The problem was, I believed them. I hated myself. I went home regularly and just cried and wrote cryptic entries in my journal. Finally, when I was close to graduating high school, I decided that was not the way I wanted to live my life, and I focused on changing the way I saw myself. It took work. It took looking at myself in the mirror every day and learning to love what I saw. Eventually, it worked.  My confidence level increased. However, I still hated my body. But not enough to change it—I figured my face was enough. And things started changing for me in great ways, boys came and went, friends came and went, and I was slowly learning how to feel positive about my life and myself. When you learn how to do that, it changes everything.

Fast forward to college: I accepted an internship with Walt Disney World in Florida. I saw this as my chance to get out of my hometown and experience somewhere new. This internship was only supposed to last six months, and then I would return home and move onto something else, but then I met a boy, and life changed. I moved to Florida to spend my life with the person I thought was the love of my life. Sadly about four and a half years later, we broke up. Everyone experiences heartbreak; I am not any big exception to anyone else's heartbreak. But this was a big moment in my life, my self-esteem plummeted, and I thought there was no light at the end of the tunnel and I would never get over this person. However, I made a choice to stay single and focus on myself again. I needed to pick myself back up and I needed to love myself again, and this time my body needed to be part of this. I was victim to relationship weight gain. I was now at my heaviest.

So began my journey to get my body in shape and rebuild my self worth. Shortly after I began changing my eating habits and getting into exercising, I changed roles at my job that required a lot of standing on concrete. I have a condition called Platar Fasciitis in my feet; it just means my arches are high and the muscle is so tight that standing for long periods of time causes this muscle to tear. The pain is excruciating. I could barely stand at work. I saw a doctor and began treatment for this, but it was a setback because I was only allowed to do minimal exercise. I could only ride the stationary bike and wasn't allowed to do anything major that might make my condition worse. This was a long, hard battle. It triggered anxiety that I had never had before, and I was terrified I would be in a wheelchair. I was disappointed because I had set these goals to get in shape. But I didn't let it stop me. I did what I had to do and within six months of treatment, my feet recovered. They will require maintenance for the rest of my life, but I can now be as active on them as I would like to be.

In the end, there's no big secret or trick to how I did it and lost the weight. I just ate the right things and started out small with exercise and continued to increase my activity as my body started changing. So far, I have lost 36 pounds and I feel amazing. Of course, I still have a lot of improving to do. But losing weight was more than just loving the way I look. It's something I am in total control of. Despite the obstacles I faced on this journey, I did not give up, and as my body changed, so did my self worth. I started gaining this power within myself that I never knew I possessed. Once I started seeing changes in the mirror, I felt unstoppable, but this stemmed farther than the fitness sphere—I felt more confident in every aspect of my life.  I've come to realize that I am in the best mental state I have ever been in! Now I look in the mirror and I love everything I see. This feeling radiates throughout my life. I am happier, less tired, super energetic, and it gives me the drive to accomplish anything I want out of life! It's been about two years since I started this journey, and it is not easy—I will not say it is—but it's worth it. I made a complete lifestyle change, and there's no turning back now. No one should live with the burden of hating something about herself, whatever it is. The first step is to figure out what you have to do to fix it, because life is too short not to love yourself entirely and live it to the fullest. And not to sound like a broken record you've heard before, but the health benefits that come with eating right and exercising are no lie. Never give up. 

Sad music

and sad cries

haunting thoughts

and teary eyes

dark room

and hidden truths

pretty face

and a lonely heart

under the covers

and far from home

losing sight

and going unknown

too far lost

and too far gone

too many substances 

under dead skin

way too young 

and too late to begin

By: Jamie Hartung

Breaking Point

Behind closed doors there are silent screams 

Violence turns nightmares into dreams

Twisting and turning reality into fairy tales 

One with goblins, cries, ghouls and wails

Swinging arms won't help you fly

Turn and run - or don't and die

Keeping yourself unhappy is suicide 

The kind that works slowly, keeping you alive 

Love yourself or no one else will

What your living isn't love, it's out to kill

Yelling at the top of your closed mouth 

Keeps the darkness in and promises doubt

Tears splash out of eyes like glass that hit the wall and crashed 

That's your heart on the floor - smashed. 

By: Shauna Zepeda

Your Sobriety Affects Me

Your sobriety affects me,

And I don't know how to tell you.

Your sobriety affects me,

But I am still very proud.

Your sobriety affects me,

I just want to have fun

Your sobriety affects me,

I'm scared you won't remain strong.

Your sobriety affects me,

I just want to let my guard down.

Your sobriety affects me,

Because every time I fall back in love I get hurt.

Your sobriety affects me,

Because I want to feel the way I used too.

Your sobriety affects me,

Because you say you changed but you didn't.

Your sobriety affects me,

Because I want you to be here but you can't.

Your sobriety affects me,

Because I want her to trust you but she shouldn't.

Your sobriety affects me,

Because your anger just never stops.

Your sobriety affects me,

Because we live in fear.

Your sobriety affects me,

Because she deserves better.

Your sobriety affects me,

Because he can't have another let down.

Your sobriety affects me,

Because I can't always be strong.

Your sobriety affects me,

It breaks my heart

Your sobriety affects me,

Because I suffer from it too.

Your sobriety affects me,

Because you don't just hurt you, you hurt us too.

Your sobriety affects me,

And it doesn't belong to me, it belongs to you.

By: Danielle Brown

Pretty Girl

Play On Mind

Let me play in your mind..
to find all that defines...
The definition of you..
Or is there a few??
I don't want your body..
Its your soul I'm trying to get too
See all that you are made of
Before even a backrub.. 
Seeing if I can make you uncomfortable when I get close up..
An intelligent conversation to seal the deal
Grabbing you slow, reading your thoughts.. 
Making you shake and shiver until that arch drops..
Let me...
play on your mind.. In there I will find.. All that you are made of and gently say good night....

Author: Natali B

Conspiring Grief

Yeah – I feel it. I feel it coming… 

It still gets me, in the middle of the night, dammit it still gets me. I can still wake up from a dream that you’re alive. I have to lay there and convince my subconscious that you’re dead. That you’re not just pissed and not speaking to me. That you never would have gone this long without talking to me, even if it was a fight – silent treatment was not your style. Yeah, the hope that you’re alive still gets me. 

What do I remember? The truth really is…

I remember Christmas. I remember being happy. I remember laughter and presents. I remember working hard to make Christmas special for the boy’s, even it if meant very little sleep on Christmas Eve. I remember thinking that we could work through things and that we could be happy again together. I remember dropping you off and not thinking I’d never see you again. 

I remember New Years – I was stressed and I made some off handed comment that I just wanted to skip the whole thing, and we fought. I remember you going out, and me calling (and calling) to find out where you were so we could meet. I remember you meeting someone else. 

I remember January 10th – and our last conversations with each other. You and I both know it was not the thing of love stories. Those that knew us in those moments can remember our individual heartbreak because it was all falling apart. Things were said on both ends that hurt, deeply hurt. There are so many details about that day. I remember loud voices, and tears, from both of us. There are things I do not want to remember but I hold on to, so very tightly, because it is truth - it was us. 

I remember Thursday. I remember going to class, I had three back to back in those days, undergrad. I know it was the first week of my first internship. I remember being in class from 9 – 1:15, and at about1:30 I get a call from your mom because she has not seen you since the morning. I really thought that call was from you, and that we’d be okay after some time to cool off. I remember going home and hanging out with the boys. I remember falling asleep on the couch and walking up to my mom’s voice, “Ari, get up – get up – he’s dead” And though I remember the next few moments, they’re in slow motion, they don’t seem real. I called Mona – she’s crying, “Honey…the police are here…he’s dead (unimaginable pain and sobs).” Me – “I’m on my way.” I drive, shaking, - I missed my exit on the freeway. Your mom’s house is hours of words, first formal “time of death was around noon” then mumbled. I remember being there for each other and the first start of an obsession for answers. 

I remember trying to tell Detroit, since he would not remember I figured it would be best to try these words across my tongue with him. They wouldn’t come. All I could say was, “Your daddy loves you, SO much.” I cried, and he hugged me. I remember I waited a day to tell Victor so I could be with him over the weekend. Oh how I wish I didn’t remember that conversation. I can see him sit down on that couch an innocent boy and leave wounded more deeply than any 5 year old should be. I would punch you in the face for that moment, if only I could. My first real act of aggression on someone else, and you would say you earned it. 

There is my truth. It is not pretty, and it’s not even the story I tell myself, or others. I use the word fiancé when I speak of Austin because it is the only word that gives weight and depth to our relationship. We know it wasn’t true – that we had called off the engagement month’s prior – that we fought on the phone during our set wedding date and time. That everything came to a point of “I love you, but I cannot have you here unless your straight – so get straight.” I have also, in time, stopped lying to myself in thinking this was an isolated incident. I admit, here now openly, that I was frustrated with him. I was everything opposite of love towards Austin. Love really is the only cure for isolation; it’s the only space bigger. For a long time I was disappointed in myself for not showing him that love more. I wailed over it alone for hours countless times because I have always loved him – and I always will. I was sure everyone blamed me as much as I blamed myself. 

What I realize now is that while it is nice to receive love from others, we are never full until we receive it from ourselves. You’ve heard this before; Lord knows I’ve wrestled with the simplicity of this statement. Our lives are not saved by the love and kindness we have received from others, our lives are saved because we were kind and loving to ourselves. In the depths of all the darkness we face we are typically alone, at least in the times that matter. No one should have to burden the guilt of “I was not enough to save them” – ever. That is a dangerous place to be. It is equally as dangerous to believe that we are powerful enough to save each other. I willingly choose kind-sight over hindsight. I am forever in debt to those that showed me how to be kind and loving towards myself, even when it hurt, even when I did not believe I deserved it – thank you for fighting for me, even if it meant fighting with me. Thank you. 

Austin was a warrior - that took a long time for me to be okay with saying. He struggled with himself right up to the end. If he had some other sickness, like cancer, it would be accepted that he died – that his pain was over. Suicide does not promote these feelings. The feelings that come with suicide, from my perspective alone because it is the one I know and feel comfortable speaking on, are feelings of anger, disappointment, regret, shame, guilt, disbelief – and well…nothing positive. I fought myself, still do it seems, with the “why” of it all. Now those that know death, in any form, realize that these feelings are not exclusive to suicide. Since I have not experienced every type of death personally I cannot speak to the “which is worse” – can’t they all just hurt? Is it really about the “how” of someone’s death that defines his or her life, or gives credit to the pain of the loss? 

I spent the first anniversary of his death in class, specifically a trauma and death class. How fitting - said with the biggest smile and warmest thoughts. I remember not taking time off of school – and though it may have seemed like I didn’t care, that his death did not effect me, I hope you know differently. I simply was not in a position to make a decision about school, so I stayed the course so to speak. I give a lot of credit to school, being around social workers, for my ability to heal. School created a safe place where I could tell my story, again and again. I was constantly asked, “How do you do it?” like I had some magic answer for them. I didn’t get it but these people are rock stars, asking me questions that made me find my own clarity instead of giving me platitudes and looking away in horror. One such moment my truth hit me, I didn’t think about the words but I heard them after I said them…”I allowed so much of Austin's life, and his addictions, to dictate my own that I refuse to let his death do the same.” That was the moment things shifted, that I saw my own strength like it was standing next to me. Sure, I wanted to quit. I wanted to rent out jet skis to tourists in some tropical island far away from others pain, and hopefully my own. I knew that was not a reality for me, and that is simply not how life works. If you want to run away from the pain the best way to feel better is to turn towards it and fight yourself to not look away – fight like someone is trying to beat up your mama! Seems crazy, seems like it’s the harder thing to do but those are lies we tell ourselves. So, I fought – thought I was going to die, and at times I wanted to, but I didn’t. 

Grief is a big scary darkness, regardless of how it comes into your life. Every time it comes it brings new ways of making you hit your knees. There is no magic way out of the muck; I have no answers for others. All I could ever hear for myself was, “Do whatever it takes to make it through, but make it through.” 

Yeah – I feel it. I feel the anniversary of your death coming. Will I think about you more that day? No. I will think about me more that day. I remember so many things about what I was doing, where I was, who I was with. I will remember those things at various times on the clock. I now know what time you left the house, and what time you died. The day seems colder, but that is my doing – January 12th is always cold anyway. I do not need an anniversary date to remember you because I remember you every day, every day. I need an anniversary date to remember me, the who that I was before you died. A day to mourn the loss of myself, and a day to welcome in the me that I have become since.