Inspired. A mood that all writer's like
to be in. Not always possible. But when it happens, we take
advantage of it... or should, anyway. I've mostly kept all my
thoughts to myself. Call it selfish. Call it, fear. Call it what you
want. But at some point, we have to realize it's what we're meant to
do. We're destined to share our thoughts, emotions, struggles, with
the world. To pick them up, pump them up, and get them going.
Otherwise, who will? No matter how individualistic American society
tends to be, the truth is we wouldn't survive with each other's help.
Whether it is through writing, music, or just a simple pat in the
back.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
My "private" journey
..well, semi-private.
It's been a while since I've blogged. I have had this topic bouncing around in my mind for a long time. I have refused to share it publicly. I am a bit hesitant right now, actually. Maybe because of the struggle behind it. Maybe it's because I am or was ashamed that I had to go through it. I'm often too hard on myself, and don't realize how much I have truly accomplished.
As most women, I've struggled with body issues. And self-confidence. We have a tendency to compare ourselves to others, which often makes things worse. It's a constant struggle, especially if you don't give yourself credit when you do accomplish something. So, I'm going to share my story... it will help me make it real for myself, and hopefully inspire others and help them realize they are not alone.
I've never been overweight, per-se... but I came pretty close a few years ago. As a child and young adult, I was thin. My dad would encourage us to eat well. I became more active when I was diagnosed with dairy-intolerance, in an effort to help my digestive system. In high school, I joined cross country and track. I fell in love with running, and made it a priority in my life. Soon after, I discovered how important eating healthy was for me to feel great and run well. I added healthy eating as a priority. Needless to say, I was doing pretty well growing up.
The struggle began a few months before college. Out of nowhere, I began eating when I was stressed. I wasn't hungry, but food made me feel better. I would go through cycles of binge eating, then starvation and over-exercising. I also started using laxatives in hope of not allowing my body to absorb the calories. Through all that, I began to put on the pounds. When I checked the scale, I would see that awful number. It made me feel disgusting, and disappointed. I would then eat. I would over-exercise. I would feel bad. Back and forth. The cycle went on for a couple years. At one point, I was close to 135 pounds. For a girl my size, that is near being overweight. I was depressed. My grades fell. I didn't want to hang out with anyone. I was ashamed of what I looked like, so I hid myself from the world. I felt that people wouldn't understand what I was going through.
Eventually, I moved back home. I felt that maybe being with my family would help through my struggle. I wanted to get over my hump. I tried really hard to have a regular healthy diet, and run. I began to lose pounds. I contacted a college coach that had asked me back in high school if I wanted to run for his team. I really hoped he'd still consider me to be part of the team. I had heard good things about the team, and wanted to be a part of it. I yearned for that feeling of belonging. I yearned for new friendships. I yearned for that feeling of accomplishment. After visiting the team, and doing a fitness test, I was asked to be part of the team! I was excited.
However, that summer did not come without struggle.
The summer training started off well. I was running consistent miles. Once I felt I had "mastered" a set of miles, I wanted to add more. So, I did. Even without coach's approval. That led to over training. I ignored various pains. Eventually, I wasn't able to run for a few weeks. That made my depression come back. The horrible fight with food was back. I gained a few pounds back. The cycle continued.
When I was able to run again, the struggle carried through. I would overeat and I would feel the need to get rid of the extra calories. I began using laxatives again. All this weakened my body. I knew I was harming my body, but I did it anyway. My bones undoubtedly were weak, and I developed shin splints, which then turned into a stress fracture. Eventually, I was unable to participate in cross country.
After that semester, I left college because of various reasons. The struggle continued after that for about another year and a half.
I had always focused on eating healthy foods. My problem was that I would eat my stress away.
This past winter, I was at 128. That's not a terrible weight for a person my size. I was doing much better. Though, for a person with my goals, that was unacceptable. I decided it was time for a change. For real. From then on, I focused on becoming leaner and stronger. I also focused on not over training, and really listened to my body.
By February, I was at 124. Not too shabby. That was also when I noticed that a pain on my right toe area was not going away. I rested for 2 weeks or so at a time to see if the pain went away. The moment I started running again, the pain would return. I made an appointment to get an x-ray. My doctor didn't see anything "abnormal" about the x-ray, and she simply gave me meds for the pain. A few months after that, I decided to have an orthopedic doctor take a look. He saw the fracture of my medial sesamoid right away. That injury took me away from running. Again. For the whole summer. I was afraid I'd go back to that dreadful cycle. This time though, it went differently.
I decided that I was not going to fall back into that struggle. This time, I really tried to focus on the positives. I knew that was my chance to really focus on my upper body strength. I had to do something. I didn't want to get too much out of shape. So, I also made cross-training a priority. I made it a habit to do strength training and cross training most days of the week. I also continued my clean eating. Eventually, it was just the normality. I became used to it! I became consistent. I became stronger as a person.
Over the last several months, I have lost a little over 20 lbs of unwanted fat. I am now at 108 lbs, which is an ideal weight for an runner my size. I have gained muscle, and now have a strong upper-body! Most, if not all, of that happened when I wasn't running. This time, I focused on maintaining as much of my endurance and strength as I could. Maybe that helped me think less about the fact that I couldn't run. :)
Now, I'm focusing on continuing to maintain my strength. When the time comes and my surgery area is fully healed, I will focus on becoming an elite runner. I feel great!
As my friends, I ask you to keep me accountable and continue to help me through this journey. I do not expect it to be a walk in the park. I know there will be struggles, but I hope to continue to overcome them and continue to be consistent! Everything is possible with loads of hard work. However, patience plays a key role in any journey as well. Sometimes, less is more.
Thank you for taking the time to read this post. I truly appreciate it.
God bless,
Bertha
It's been a while since I've blogged. I have had this topic bouncing around in my mind for a long time. I have refused to share it publicly. I am a bit hesitant right now, actually. Maybe because of the struggle behind it. Maybe it's because I am or was ashamed that I had to go through it. I'm often too hard on myself, and don't realize how much I have truly accomplished.
As most women, I've struggled with body issues. And self-confidence. We have a tendency to compare ourselves to others, which often makes things worse. It's a constant struggle, especially if you don't give yourself credit when you do accomplish something. So, I'm going to share my story... it will help me make it real for myself, and hopefully inspire others and help them realize they are not alone.
I've never been overweight, per-se... but I came pretty close a few years ago. As a child and young adult, I was thin. My dad would encourage us to eat well. I became more active when I was diagnosed with dairy-intolerance, in an effort to help my digestive system. In high school, I joined cross country and track. I fell in love with running, and made it a priority in my life. Soon after, I discovered how important eating healthy was for me to feel great and run well. I added healthy eating as a priority. Needless to say, I was doing pretty well growing up.
The struggle began a few months before college. Out of nowhere, I began eating when I was stressed. I wasn't hungry, but food made me feel better. I would go through cycles of binge eating, then starvation and over-exercising. I also started using laxatives in hope of not allowing my body to absorb the calories. Through all that, I began to put on the pounds. When I checked the scale, I would see that awful number. It made me feel disgusting, and disappointed. I would then eat. I would over-exercise. I would feel bad. Back and forth. The cycle went on for a couple years. At one point, I was close to 135 pounds. For a girl my size, that is near being overweight. I was depressed. My grades fell. I didn't want to hang out with anyone. I was ashamed of what I looked like, so I hid myself from the world. I felt that people wouldn't understand what I was going through.
Eventually, I moved back home. I felt that maybe being with my family would help through my struggle. I wanted to get over my hump. I tried really hard to have a regular healthy diet, and run. I began to lose pounds. I contacted a college coach that had asked me back in high school if I wanted to run for his team. I really hoped he'd still consider me to be part of the team. I had heard good things about the team, and wanted to be a part of it. I yearned for that feeling of belonging. I yearned for new friendships. I yearned for that feeling of accomplishment. After visiting the team, and doing a fitness test, I was asked to be part of the team! I was excited.
However, that summer did not come without struggle.
The summer training started off well. I was running consistent miles. Once I felt I had "mastered" a set of miles, I wanted to add more. So, I did. Even without coach's approval. That led to over training. I ignored various pains. Eventually, I wasn't able to run for a few weeks. That made my depression come back. The horrible fight with food was back. I gained a few pounds back. The cycle continued.
When I was able to run again, the struggle carried through. I would overeat and I would feel the need to get rid of the extra calories. I began using laxatives again. All this weakened my body. I knew I was harming my body, but I did it anyway. My bones undoubtedly were weak, and I developed shin splints, which then turned into a stress fracture. Eventually, I was unable to participate in cross country.
After that semester, I left college because of various reasons. The struggle continued after that for about another year and a half.
I had always focused on eating healthy foods. My problem was that I would eat my stress away.
This past winter, I was at 128. That's not a terrible weight for a person my size. I was doing much better. Though, for a person with my goals, that was unacceptable. I decided it was time for a change. For real. From then on, I focused on becoming leaner and stronger. I also focused on not over training, and really listened to my body.
By February, I was at 124. Not too shabby. That was also when I noticed that a pain on my right toe area was not going away. I rested for 2 weeks or so at a time to see if the pain went away. The moment I started running again, the pain would return. I made an appointment to get an x-ray. My doctor didn't see anything "abnormal" about the x-ray, and she simply gave me meds for the pain. A few months after that, I decided to have an orthopedic doctor take a look. He saw the fracture of my medial sesamoid right away. That injury took me away from running. Again. For the whole summer. I was afraid I'd go back to that dreadful cycle. This time though, it went differently.
I decided that I was not going to fall back into that struggle. This time, I really tried to focus on the positives. I knew that was my chance to really focus on my upper body strength. I had to do something. I didn't want to get too much out of shape. So, I also made cross-training a priority. I made it a habit to do strength training and cross training most days of the week. I also continued my clean eating. Eventually, it was just the normality. I became used to it! I became consistent. I became stronger as a person.
Over the last several months, I have lost a little over 20 lbs of unwanted fat. I am now at 108 lbs, which is an ideal weight for an runner my size. I have gained muscle, and now have a strong upper-body! Most, if not all, of that happened when I wasn't running. This time, I focused on maintaining as much of my endurance and strength as I could. Maybe that helped me think less about the fact that I couldn't run. :)
Now, I'm focusing on continuing to maintain my strength. When the time comes and my surgery area is fully healed, I will focus on becoming an elite runner. I feel great!
As my friends, I ask you to keep me accountable and continue to help me through this journey. I do not expect it to be a walk in the park. I know there will be struggles, but I hope to continue to overcome them and continue to be consistent! Everything is possible with loads of hard work. However, patience plays a key role in any journey as well. Sometimes, less is more.
Thank you for taking the time to read this post. I truly appreciate it.
God bless,
Bertha
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
The years past
I miss Sioux City.
Weird.
This is unlike the feeling I had a few years ago. What I felt then was not reminisce, but the yearn to move-on. To go places. To become successful. I didn't see Sioux City as the city to fit those needs. But of course, back then I had a whole different "plan". A plan that did not go as I thought.
On a hot, August morning, I was ready to leave. I had packed my things up weeks in advance. I was anxious to move on to my next adventure. I didn't really think much about the good-byes. I am reluctant to say that I, didn't care much about them. After all, I didn't know if my mother really supported my decision of moving 3.5 hours away, and I wasn't sure what my dad thought. My departure from home was more sweet then bitter. The fact that I was leaving was sweet, for me. Maybe the way I left added some bitterness over the years after.
My dad always trusted my decisions. I don't think he saw any reason why I shouldn't go to college. After all, he didn't graduate high school, much less go to college. He had to quit school to help support my grandmother and his siblings. Even though it was tough to know at times, he really does want the best for my siblings and I. I think he has some regrets as well. Decisions he had made in the past, and that he has learned to move on.
He arrived in California at the young age of 17. He worked at several restaurants, and even passed up an opportunity to go to college. I don't know any details. I don't know if it was a specific career that was offered to him. All I know is that he passed it up. Maybe he didn't see it working out. Maybe all he had to do is work. I think that's one of his biggest regrets.
I think back to that a lot. As we all know, if I would've stuck with a program at Iowa State, I would be a college graduate. I am not. In fact, I am currently not enrolled. Why, do you ask? Well, through all those years of searching for my calling while in college, I realized that music was my destiny. I knew at a young age, and I kinda just brushed it off. All the people around me: coaches, counselors, family, friends; they said music was not a stable profession, unless you become an educator. So, I subconsciously gave in to that way of thinking, and worked on improving my math and science skills. I decided to pursue a career in the health field. I wanted to become a doctor. I wanted to make my parents proud, and prove my extended family wrong.
Well, here I sit. Four years later, and no degree (does my coaching authorization count? Haha.) No degree, but I have learned many things throughout these years after high school. The most important being to trust your heart and to go after YOUR dreams.... after you figure them out. It took me sometime to grow up, admit, and realize that no matter what I do, music is always number one in my heart. I figured out that my dad just wanted me to be happy with what I do. Although being a doctor would be great and flashy, it's not what I truly wanted. I could help people in other ways. Turns out that people enjoy it when I sing. I enjoy it too.
Now, I'm stuck at "well, how do I pursue this?". Even though I would like to get a degree in music, it's not really necessary, unless I want to become a teacher. So, now what? Work at a bar, and sing everywhere I can? That's what a lot of artists had to do. But, from a logical perspective: I have student loans to pay off, so I can't be a music bum quite yet. Working low-income jobs isn't going to take care of those quickly. If I went back to school for Music education, I could become a teacher when I finally get my degree, and hopefully pay them off quicker. Though, getting my degree will take 2-3 years. I could probably pay my current student loans off in less than that. But, in the long run, I wouldn't have a degree to fall back on.
Back when my dad was 17, the decision might have been clearer in his situation. Go to school. However, times have changed. College students now are in debt for many years after they graduate. Maybe college isn't in the cards for me. Maybe, I should just work at a humble job, pay off loans and... move on. Problem is, when I was 17, that was the last thing I thought of myself doing. I don't want to regret, like my father.
In the past, I wanted to prove to others that I could become something. Now, all I want to prove is that nothing is impossible, if you truly believe in your heart that it's your calling. After all, the answer is always "no", until you try.
Weird.
This is unlike the feeling I had a few years ago. What I felt then was not reminisce, but the yearn to move-on. To go places. To become successful. I didn't see Sioux City as the city to fit those needs. But of course, back then I had a whole different "plan". A plan that did not go as I thought.
On a hot, August morning, I was ready to leave. I had packed my things up weeks in advance. I was anxious to move on to my next adventure. I didn't really think much about the good-byes. I am reluctant to say that I, didn't care much about them. After all, I didn't know if my mother really supported my decision of moving 3.5 hours away, and I wasn't sure what my dad thought. My departure from home was more sweet then bitter. The fact that I was leaving was sweet, for me. Maybe the way I left added some bitterness over the years after.
My dad always trusted my decisions. I don't think he saw any reason why I shouldn't go to college. After all, he didn't graduate high school, much less go to college. He had to quit school to help support my grandmother and his siblings. Even though it was tough to know at times, he really does want the best for my siblings and I. I think he has some regrets as well. Decisions he had made in the past, and that he has learned to move on.
He arrived in California at the young age of 17. He worked at several restaurants, and even passed up an opportunity to go to college. I don't know any details. I don't know if it was a specific career that was offered to him. All I know is that he passed it up. Maybe he didn't see it working out. Maybe all he had to do is work. I think that's one of his biggest regrets.
I think back to that a lot. As we all know, if I would've stuck with a program at Iowa State, I would be a college graduate. I am not. In fact, I am currently not enrolled. Why, do you ask? Well, through all those years of searching for my calling while in college, I realized that music was my destiny. I knew at a young age, and I kinda just brushed it off. All the people around me: coaches, counselors, family, friends; they said music was not a stable profession, unless you become an educator. So, I subconsciously gave in to that way of thinking, and worked on improving my math and science skills. I decided to pursue a career in the health field. I wanted to become a doctor. I wanted to make my parents proud, and prove my extended family wrong.
Well, here I sit. Four years later, and no degree (does my coaching authorization count? Haha.) No degree, but I have learned many things throughout these years after high school. The most important being to trust your heart and to go after YOUR dreams.... after you figure them out. It took me sometime to grow up, admit, and realize that no matter what I do, music is always number one in my heart. I figured out that my dad just wanted me to be happy with what I do. Although being a doctor would be great and flashy, it's not what I truly wanted. I could help people in other ways. Turns out that people enjoy it when I sing. I enjoy it too.
Now, I'm stuck at "well, how do I pursue this?". Even though I would like to get a degree in music, it's not really necessary, unless I want to become a teacher. So, now what? Work at a bar, and sing everywhere I can? That's what a lot of artists had to do. But, from a logical perspective: I have student loans to pay off, so I can't be a music bum quite yet. Working low-income jobs isn't going to take care of those quickly. If I went back to school for Music education, I could become a teacher when I finally get my degree, and hopefully pay them off quicker. Though, getting my degree will take 2-3 years. I could probably pay my current student loans off in less than that. But, in the long run, I wouldn't have a degree to fall back on.
Back when my dad was 17, the decision might have been clearer in his situation. Go to school. However, times have changed. College students now are in debt for many years after they graduate. Maybe college isn't in the cards for me. Maybe, I should just work at a humble job, pay off loans and... move on. Problem is, when I was 17, that was the last thing I thought of myself doing. I don't want to regret, like my father.
In the past, I wanted to prove to others that I could become something. Now, all I want to prove is that nothing is impossible, if you truly believe in your heart that it's your calling. After all, the answer is always "no", until you try.
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