Shrinking circles.

A wise, dear friend of mine, who happens to be legally blonde and legally blind, told me a few years ago that as you get older, your circles shrink. And that, with those shrinking circles, you lose your self-confidence in relationships with age.

That was lost on me ten years ago, but our conversation never left me and lately I am realizing just how right she was and still is.

Remember when you were in college how you had that core group of friends that hung out EVERY weekend? It was just understood that the 10 or 20 of you had standing plans. And then you get out of college and you hold on to that group as long as you can. Some get married, some move away, but the rest of you keep it alive for as long as careers and marriages and pregnancies allow.

Over the years, the circle shrinks. And I don't think it's just because of relationship quantity. I think it might be more about relationship quality. We always say that we would rather have one or two great friends than ten acquaintances, but we don't really mean it until it slaps us in the face in your thirties. Some of you smart people saw it earlier than me, but I haven't seen it clearly until lately.

Being ok with who you are means shrinking circles. It means you don't allow yourself to be all things to all people. It means you trade popularity for depth, quantity for quality. It means you are often lonely because you crave that depth and won't settle for less.

Shiloh. 100% havanese, 100% adorable.

Believe it or not, this is all in my brain because of Shiloh. I have fought dog ownership my whole life but now that I have him, he is teaching more about life than I thought. Someone asked me last week "Does he know he's yours?" What a question. What a deep, beautiful, life altering question.

And in true God fashion, he put that question to me: "Do you know you're mine?"

In the midst of shrinking circles, yes I do. The disappearance of my social game has allowed room for God. Is it possible that my circles are shrinking just so God can grow in the spots once filled by disappointment?

If shrinking circles means quality over quantity, then I am in. And I will no longer beat myself up for expecting the same out of my friends. May we all live up to the kind of relationships that Jesus had with his boys. Thousands of followers, twelve disciples, but really - Peter, James, and John. The three guys that were privy to the most exclusive circle in history.

If three friends was good enough for Jesus, my shrinking circles shouldn't be an issue. And hey, I will always have my dog!

-Liz

Hello, my name is...

Had a crazy privilege to speak to some YMCA professionals last week at a youth conference in the mountains. It was crazy because the other speakers were authors, corporate consultants, and Y-USA policy makers.

And me.

So, that was crazy.

I am completely unqualified for most things. My credentials are few and far between. I guess the one thing I can speak on is people. And emotions. And being an emotional person. Turns out, those are topics that are welcomed by most, even though at first glance, we all try to avoid them.

My friends keep asking me what I spoke about. And I always feel like I need to answer with some grand concept that I have come up with. But my answer is "I don't know, I just talked about people and labels and being ok with being who you are."

Simple concept, but a daily struggle.

Have you ever been labeled in your life? By a mistake, by a number on a scale, by a break-up, by a regret? I have. Did you let that label define you? I have. Does it still define you?

For me, being 39 and single is very hard. And I am reminded of it every time I go on social media. It's filled with posts about marriage and kids and pregnancy. My posts are about motorcycles and pinball machines and video games.

39 and single doesn't have a demographic. Especially in Christian circles. In that world, it is kind of...sad. If you are 39 and single as a Christian woman you are...alone. So therefore I am...lonely.

Lonely.

And I have let that label define me. For way too many years. And I always think people can't relate. No one can feel the way I do.

And I have believed that lie. For way too many years.

This past week, speaking to that group of YMCA leaders, was therapeutic. A nice reminder that my crazy thoughts are someone else's crazy thoughts. Getting older is pretty awesome. With each year I am able to be more and more ok with who I am, and recognizing the lies that try to label me.

And if you need some help with a new label, here are some beautiful options for you. Every single one is true.

Boring is beautiful!

Difficult in a car. Imagine
on a motorcycle...

 I am back from my motorcycle adventure in the mountains. Let me say this...I was not prepared.

If you want to know why, take a look at this google map screenshots. See, mountain roads are not just widely varied in elevation, they are also the twistiest, turniest roads I have ever been on. Mind you, I am used to traveling country roads in Wake Forest and beyond. We're talking generally flat, the occasional turn, and no traffic.

So drop this noob into a city within the mountains, and it's a recipe for certain disaster.

Hot tip: when you ask google to map a route and choose "avoid highways", google likes to replace said highways with gravel roads. On a motorcycle, it's the absolute worst.

So on day one, I was forcibly traveling a gravel road and came to the end of it. Stopped. And remember how I was in the mountains, the turn to hit next was a hairpin and I dropped the bike. Right into the only mud puddle I saw in Asheville. Day one shook my confidence.

Day one. Why I didn't recognize this as foreshadowing
is beyond me.

Aside from my terrifying moto-adventures, the trip was so good for me. Seeing my friend Sam who is ridiculous and wonderful, experiencing Air BnB in a Dexter Morgan shade of bizarre (for more on that, click here), were all perfect moments in my ridiculous life.

At least I got a glamour shot for Honda Powersports.

I hyped this trip up to be a time where I would discover a deeper sense of who I am. That being away would make me realize something I had never seen before. It worked, but not in the way I was intending. I figured out that I suppress who I am too often. I pretend to be a person that craves adventure and spontaneity.

Day three. Or the "What the hell am I doing up here" face.

You know what I really love? Comfort. And air conditioning. And Bravo TV. And my Vitamix. And my motorcycle. But maybe just my motorcycle on hills not mountains. I wish I had been okay with all these things when I was younger. I wish I didn't pretend to love roller coasters and camping and fiction and sleeping on the floor and staying up all night because I thought I was supposed to.

This trip taught me that learning my limits is a great thing. And that comfort isn't a sin. You hear me Christians? Comfort is not a sin. I am boring! Boring is beautiful! Oh and one more thing for my Christian friends...it's ok to laugh. A lot. More on that some other day...

-Liz

Ben is doing life again!

A few weeks ago, I posted about a guy named Ben. I have been following his story for years. Just a  regular dude who started to run, lost a bunch of weight, inspired thousands, and then gained the weight back. He fell off the grid for a while, but now he's back. And I am so excited.

I used to follow a blog called "365 days with the 330 pound woman." She stopped blogging. Ben stopped blogging. Another friend of mine stopped blogging because she gained the weight back.

We share when things are going great. But why do we isolate when things aren't going so great? And I don't mean blogs because really, blogs are stupid and faceless. I mean with the people that know you and allow you to be known.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I wish I was a drug addict instead of a food addict. At least I could stay away from drugs completely. But I am forced to have a relationship with food. And I always will. Food is a living, breathing, reality of every day life for me. And every day holds some kind of food struggle.

Don't give up when things stop going as great as they used to be. I can't tell you how many times I've said "Screw it, let's go get chips and queso." Too many chips and queso decisions turn into tight pants before you know it.

Next week I am leaving on a solo motorcycle trip up the Blue Ridge Parkway. I am hoping for clarity and adventure. And cheating death, of course! Doing life...one day at a time.

Gauntlet thrown.

Today I had a chance to speak to a group of leaders across North Carolina that work with teenagers. I don't know what qualifies me to have a forum with them, but I was asked to do it and I gladly said yes. The group was warm, welcoming, open, and fun. Perfect.

People ask me what I talk to groups about and I don't really have an answer. And I rarely have a plan. But what always ends up happening is group therapy. I love group therapy. But only with strangers.

A woman today, affirmed that I am not the only one. After we did an exercise in which I asked everyone to share their struggles (in an effort for them to realize they are not alone) I asked the group how it felt. And one woman said:

"Since I don't know anyone here, it felt good. I don't think I would have shared if people here knew me."

WHAT? Shouldn't it be the opposite? Is this why bloggers write their true feelings but can't share the same issues with the people they love? Is this why we hide behind computer screens and anonymous comments? Is this why I don't answer the phone but I immediately answer a text?

The strange fact is that we are more open with people that don't know us. And I think it's because the stakes aren't so high. I can get in front of a room of strangers and admit my struggles with weight and loneliness and criticism pretty openly. I can do this because I won't see most of those people ever again. But with my closest friends, I am still trying to be completely self-reliant. No needs. No issues. No problems.

Does anyone else see how messed up this is? There is an easy answer! Unfortunately, all of us have to commit to change. I am finding my friend circles are getting smaller and smaller as I get older. I wasn't prepared for this. But I think the reason is, as we get older, we know the types of friendships we don't want, and the types that we need. And the types that we need are VERY hard to find.

I want to be more open. Not just on a blog. With people that love me. And I want to be known. So if you know me, don't let me get away with it. Gauntlet thrown.

Your move. Challenge accepted?

Motorcycle Therapy

A few fun facts about riding a motorcycle that maybe no one has ever told you:

1. There's a cool secret hand sign from biker to biker. But don't give it to scooters. You'll just embarrass yourself.
2. Bugs can smack into at any time, in any spot. Even between your sunglasses and your eyeball. I know from experience.
3. Even when it's 97 degrees out, you have nature's air conditioning when you're going 60 miles an hour.
4. Bruce Springsteen and late 80s/early 90s hair bands make for the best road music.
5. You learn to love your true self more and more each time you ride. More on that below.

Thumbs up for jean vests!

We all spend WAY too much time trying to live up to other people's standards. We also spend WAY too much time measuring ourselves as compared to others. We don't do it on purpose, it just happens that way. And it happens a little more each day until one day, maybe when you're in you're late 30s, you realize:

This is stupid. And I won't do it anymore.

On the outside looking in, my dad might be right: owning a motorcycle could be one of the five worst decisions one could make in life. But on the inside looking out, it has allowed me to be me in a cool new way. It's that freedom I always

The night before a ride, I just google map some place
random. Today, Hyco Lake won. And it is beautiful.

talk about and my friends laugh with me about.

Whenever I see a motorcyclist, I point at them and say "Look! Freedom!" And I really, really, mean it. Something happens to you when you allow yourself to be who you are, even in fun ways like owning a motorcycle. This purchase has helped me to stop measuring my worth as compared to others.

I like motorcycles and Bravo TV and hoodies and video games and Cameron Crowe movies and embarrassing myself in public so other people feel more comfortable. I am a weird person. But in the beautiful way that weird is wonderful. I know for a fact that we are all different for a bigger purpose that one day, we will all know. But I hope most of us don't wait until our late 30s to give ourselves permission to be uniquely ourselves. 

Ride on, dudes.

Getting lost on purpose.

Second Empire. Best. Restaurant. Ever.

May has been a busy month. My parents visited for a weekend, my friend Tyler visited for a weekend, I turned a year older, and my motorcycle has become the most unexpected game changer (but if you ask my dad his opinion, owning a motorcycle is "one of the five worst decisions you could make in your life." Not sure of the other four, but I'll keep you posted.)

I turned 39 this year. To be 39 and single is so weird. There aren't a lot of people out there like me. I don't feel like I have a demographic. My Facebook feed is now filled with my friends' posts about kids and marriage and at-home businesses and parenting advice. Meanwhile, I post pictures of secret bookshelf doors and pinball arcades.

Bucket list for Barb.

I wish I had been okay in my own skin when I was 19. Or 29. Or 35. It took me a while to be ok with being different. I lived too many years trying to prove my worth. Trying to fit into a mold that never made sense to me.

I fully realize it's weird to own a motorcycle at this stage in my life. But for the first time ever, I have the confidence to just...not care if I'm weird. Growing older is scary, but there is a freedom in it that I didn't expect.

I saw the importance this weekend of getting lost on purpose. So I did. I got lost in Zebulon, Smithfield, Middlesex, Henderson, and a few other points in between. I got so lost in thought it was this deep realization that it is 100% ok to be who I am and to be different than the friends on my Facebook feed.

Whenever I see a motorcycle I yell out "Freedom!" But that took on a whole new meaning to me this week. It has become an outlet of freedom for me. An excuse to get lost. A reason to forget my phone and my schedule and my insecurities.

Imagine if we lived our lives out by God's unique design for us than by the world's impossible design for us. If that's not freedom, I don't know what is!

Getting lost in Smithfield...

...at "Popeye's Gas and Grill." And yes, that is a jean jacket vest.

And of course...the secret door for your viewing pleasure...

What my motorcycle has taught me about life

I'm not a big bucket-lister. Not as much as most people, anyway. And if you know me, you know that I am not much of a thrill seeker. Roller coasters make me motion sick (shout out the Cary Y youth department), jumping out of a perfectly good airplane doesn't make sense to me, and ropes courses aren't my thing.

But motorcycles have always been my thing.

I think I have always wanted a motorcycle, and a few months ago I finally bought one. (Side note: don't tell a lot of people you want a motorcycle. Most respond with the stories of broken backs and road side deaths.)

Every weekend I try to get a ride in for at least an hour. This weekend, I got two rides in. I've stopped planning on where I am going. I've started focusing on the ride.

And that, my friends, is counter intuitive to everything I have ever thought about life.

When I was younger, I had aspirations to be a rock star. Or an artist. Or the next great missionary. And then life rolls on and aspirations come down to earth a little more: to be married. To be skinny. To buy a house. To own a black Tahoe.

Aspirations are important. But for me, they blinded me to the journey. I was so busy planning on where I was going, that I didn't enjoy the ride.

When you're on a motorcycle, it's the air. The speed. The smell of spring. The freedom. The color. Today, as I was heading home, I passed my neighborhood and stayed out just a little longer. I wasn't ready to go home yet. I was enjoying the ride so much. (And listening to classic Bruce Springsteen, which also helps.)

We need to enjoy the ride more. A LOT more. We need to stop focusing on "if I just get 'there'  I'll be happy." 'There' is a myth. 'Here' matters more. I kept thinking today of all the people I ignored because I was trying to go some place that I thought was so important.

I have three hundred more things that my motorcycle has taught me about life, but I will save them. Until then, I am trying to form a biker gang, SAMCRO style but without all the murdering and stuff.
Interested? I need some road dogs.

-Liz

Private struggles in a public world.

Do you ever think how crazy it is that you see a new person you've never seen before almost every single day? I mean, how many people are really out there that can invade my routine life on a daily basis? That's nuts.

What's also nuts is that every one of us is fighting some private battle that most of us aren't willing to share. It used to feel so crazy to me that people are so afraid of sharing. Nowadays, I understand why.

It's not until you go through significant life change that you understand the fear of vulnerability. It's not until you experience deep shame that you question your ability to be open with the people that love you. For me, that change has been tackling my weight issues. That has always been my most private struggle in the most public of ways.

Unlike other addictions, it's pretty impossible to hide food addiction. You literally wear it on your body. And it can become a physical barrier to insulate and isolate yourself from others. Tackling it over the past few years has left me almost naked in a way. Open to heartbreak like I would never allow before.

That kind of edge-standing is terrifying. But it has also given me compassion for a world that isn't willing to go there. Because lately, I haven't been willing to go there. It hurts. It's a wound. It's a risk. And I have never been a risk taker.

I am reminded to be kind to strangers. And to be kinder to the people I love and that love me. Because all of us are fighting some private battle that most of us aren't willing to share. The question is: who are we willing to let in?

Ben does life.

In 2011 I stumbled upon this video about a guy named Ben. In 2009, he weighed over 300 pounds. By the end of 2010, he had lost 120 pounds. Watch this:

Ben got a book deal. Had a big blogger following with "Ben Does Life." Inspired thousands of people. Found love. Pursued his passion for writing.

But that was in 2011.

Ben now weighs over 350 pounds. More than when he started his journey in the beginning. Most of us wonder "how?" How could this inspirational guy that publicly documented his journey and wrote a book about weight loss gain it all back and then some? In fact, most of us would write it off as a failure, if we're being honest.

But guess what? Ben still has a blog. He is still working on it. He is still doing life.

See weight loss blogs come and go. I can't tell you how many blogs I used to follow of people with successful stories that are now...gone. No posts since last year. Or the year before. Or the blog was taken down because I guess it's just too hard to be public if you fail. Sure, the success is worth sharing, but the failure...

But Ben is doing life. He is doing life because he knows that the failure is worth sharing. Failure doesn't mean falling. Failing means not giving up. And this dude hasn't given up. His blog is gut wrenching for me because I can share his emotions on depression and loneliness. Weight loss and weight gain. It is so awesome to watch the scale numbers go down and the clothes get baggy. It is so devastating to watch the opposite happen. But ultimately, the opposite does happen. For so many people. Then, try doing that while the world is watching!

Just because we fail, it doesn't make us a failure. It's an event, not a person. It's temporary, not permanent. It's a thing, not a condition. The past few months have been great for me. I have a great friend holding me accountable and my eating has been on point and I am getting stronger again after surgery. I am down about 18 pounds since February. This is a wave that I will ride as hard as I can. But when the failure wave comes (and it will), I am going to take a page out of Ben's book and just do life. Keep moving. Keep getting back up.

Failure is an event, not a person.

-Liz

A healthy heart.

I've been reading through Henry Cloud books lately. He is a well known speaker, author, psychologist, general bad ass christian guy that keeps things very real. In this world, that's rare. In christian circles, it seems to be even more rare.

Is it ok for christians to admit to struggle? Yes. Do we practice that? No.

I am about halfway through his book "Safe People" and it's fascinating. He has this way of breaking down relationships that will make you nod your head in relief and be reminded that you are not crazy.  I wanted to share this. Read this list slowly, his list of the "Interpersonal Traits of Unsafe People" as follows:

1. Unsafe people avoid closeness instead of connecting.
2. Unsafe people are only concerned about "I" instead of "we."
3. Unsafe people resist freedom instead of encouraging it.
4. Unsafe people flatter us instead of confronting us.
5. Unsafe people condemn us instead of forgiving us.
6. Unsafe people stay in parent/child roles instead of relating as equals.
7. Unsafe people are unstable over time instead of remaining consistent.
8. Unsafe people are a negative influence on us instead of a positive one.
9. Unsafe people gossip instead of keeping secrets.

While this is not an inclusive list, I think he pretty much sums up the traits that can turn any relationship bad quickly. How many times have you been an unsafe person to someone else? I was SHOCKED to take a personal assessment of how many times I have done any of the above things to someone else. Now that doesn't make us unsafe people, it just means we are prone to treating each other in unsafe ways.

Healthy eating ultimately leads me to a healthy heart. And a healthy heart wants to be healthy in every way. This is a big part of that. It's not enough to work on the outside when the inside needs attention. I am taking stock of the food I eat. The work outs I do. But now, how about the thoughts I have? The way I treat others? The things I share? The things I keep private?

Still waiting for My Fitness Pal to develop an app to include my mind intake and my emotional intake. A healthy heart is a lot more than proper calorie intake.

-Liz

The B word

I was at a work event last night. It was a silent auction for charity. All was going great until I realized the food situation. You guessed it. The B word.

Buffet.

I have never set foot in a Golden Corral. Thankfully. But when I see a buffet, even hear the word buffet, my mind starts to spin. And last night it was definitely filled with questions. What will they have? Is there anything I can eat? How big are the plates? Will people go back more than once? What about dessert, is that a separate line? If there is salad, will they only have ranch as an option?

The B word makes me feel all the feelings.

I had this moment. And it's embarrassing, but I am not too ashamed to admit it. I saw someone's plate who had returned from the buffet and I think I was staring, drooling, and maybe even had a little chin quiver going on. This lady was double fisting a plate of chicken fingers, chicken salad, meatballs, cheesy something or other and another plate of cake on top of pie on top of banana pudding.

And so it was one of those defining moments. Do I throw my goals out the window momentarily to take a plunge into the B word, or do I find a way to let the moment pass and make healthy choices?

I passed the chicken fingers and the meatballs and the cheesy something and luckily found a vegetable tray and shrimp and some chicken salad that wasn't drowned in mayonnaise. And if you don't struggle with food, it's ok that you are shaking your head and judging my overreactions. But if you do struggle with food, you can relate to this situation. An alcoholic at a bar. A drug addict with some old friends. A food addict in a buffet line.

Will it ever get easier to make food decisions in social situations?  My big take away from last night is to just pause. To use my brain and think about my goals. These small decisions make a big difference in my heart and in my waistline. So I have to think if I keep choosing the right way, this too shall pass.

"Know what you're worth."

My friend asked me last week "Are you still doing your blog?" Yes and no, was my response. I told her that I felt like I ran out of things to say. But the truth is, I need to expand the conversation.

A few weeks ago I started driving for Uber. Since the night time is my worst time for eating and staying on track, I thought this would be a good way to make extra money and help me to not eat Sour Patch Kids while watching excessive amounts of Bravo TV.

It's been really crazy. The people are hilarious. I tweet all the funny things they say and do (you should check it out). Occasionally, I have poignant moments with my Uber riders. Like last night.

I was driving two girls in grad school into downtown Raleigh. They were both in "friends with benefits" relationships with two guys that coincidentally, blew them off last night. In typical Uber fashion, they asked me for advice. And I said "The best advice I can give you is to know what you're worth. You have to teach people how to treat you."

Good advice for those two girls, right? Better advice for me.

The past two weeks something shifted in my brain. See, I have always equated relaxation time with food. Hand in hand. At the end of the day, or at the end of the week, food is my reward. If I am going out to dinner with friends, I focus on the dinner not the friends. If I am watching a movie, I focus on the snacks, not the movie. If it's a birthday party, I wonder what kind of cake we are having and not how old the person is turning.

Food is my addiction, so it does enter into every part of my life. For the better part of the year I have been falling in and out of my addiction. Good days and bad days. Tossed about by the wind. Or my day. Or my mood.

So two weeks ago I decided to restart. For the hundredth time. I decided to realize what I'm worth. I am watching food documentaries, and eating clean, and started with a new trainer, and weighing in, and doing all the things that I know brought me success when I started.

When in doubt, start over. I am not going to flirt with disaster anymore. I am focusing on my worth, and knowing that I am worth it. And I will stop and smell the donuts, but not devour them.

-Liz