Back in skinny jeans

Killing the fat me

Part 2 of my “Get back to the real me” plan was to loose the 15 pounds I gained while working at my job. All that extra fat felt like dead weight. I knew symbolically it was my protection of armor, but now it had to go. After killing my corporate self, I now had to kill my fat self. Four months prior to quitting, I had joined this gym that catered to people who wanted one-on-one personal training. It was expensive, but a girlfriend of mine had been with this place and she had lost 15 pounds to strengthen and prepare for a marathon. She looked awesome, and I thought of it as an investment. Besides, I was getting older, and I was getting tired of being in crowded gyms where guys would hit on you.

Every time you came in this gym, you got a different trainer. You could request to just have the same trainer, but the good thing about having someone different each time is that your body is worked in all kinds of ways because trainers have different styles. The trainers I worked with: one was a former pro football player, one was a former body builder, one was trained in martial arts, one liked to focus on helping women (this trainer was female), and one was a trained sports physiologist, so the range, I thought, was real good.

I started to make friends with the other members at this place, and soon continued my membership mainly so I could hang out with these people. It’s not that you had to be a member to be friends with these people, on the contrary I liked these people because they were so anti-cliché, it just became real fun to come in and work out together, laugh, and then go out to eat.

Soon, a bunch of my gym buddies decided to train for a marathon, so I joined in for the social aspect. I had been a runner since college, and had pretty good stamina, but I had never raced because I wanted to keep running fun and relaxing. I ran to de-stress and spark creative ideas. I always thought that adding a competitive factor would start to take the fun out of running, and after loosing half my toe nails, loosing a few periods, and blowing out my knee, I was right, so I stopped training. Running wasn’t fun for me while I was competing, but while I did train, I did learn a lot more about my body, and I did have great fun with my running group. I did manage to run the length of a half marathon, 13.1 miles, and I was very proud of myself. After almost 10 months of working with the trainers, and semi-training for a marathon, I only lost 10 pounds, but I went from 30% body fat down to 24%. I had some really nice muscles, and my legs were kick ass. I plateued, so I started to look at other ways to kick-start my metabolism and get to my weight/size goal.

Moronic or brave

Many people thought I was just plain stupid for leaving all that money behind. Perhaps I was. But a big part of me felt, if I could become a millionaire once, then I could do it again. It is nothing but hope. The true Stephanie would never sell out, the current me did. I define selling out as someone who does something strictly for the fact that it is highly profitable monetarily, and puts aside his or her own morals, values, and principles to obtain that money.

There were so many people trying very hard to get in that company, and here I was trying to escape with my dear life. I mean on paper, I had a fantastic life, and to the outside, yeah it seemed like a paradise, but I have learned from this experience to not judge a company by its stock price. Just because the stock is high and people are loaded, does not mean there is not a fucked up situation in that place. It’s like that perfect couple everyone knows. One day, out of nowhere, they get divorced and everyone is shocked. Well, the package may have been beautiful but the inside was FUBAR (military acronym for fucked up beyond all recognition.)

I stayed at this company 3 years too long because I wanted the cash. I did not love what I was doing, but I did love the money. I discovered my own dark side related to greed and gluttony. I put up with so much crap, abuse, and debauchery, that if no stock options were involved, I would have left after the first 6 months. So, I knew by my own definition that I had sold out. In the end, I lost nearly all that money I took away with me. I have heard several times that many lottery winners, and people who become rich overnight will loose all their fortune because spiritually and emotionally they do not believe they deserve that money, or that the money brings nothing but pain. For me, I wanted to be rich, but I lost all of that particular money because I did not like the person I had become to make it. The next time around will be very different.

After the bust, I was left with enough money to pay off all my taxes, thank goodness, and live in my apartment for 2 years. After those 2 years, I had to move in with my parents and put all my stuff in storage. I decided to start my own business, and be my own boss, so living with Mom & Dad was a way to help with expenses. Another 2 more years have gone by, and my stuff is still in storage, my business failed, and I am living on coupons and sales on the verge of broke. I should be miserable, and I do have my moments but this time at least I am free.

In the four years since I killed the fake Stephanie, I have worked very hard to get back to the real me. I no longer have to wear a mask, and I no longer have to compete in the game of life so that I can keep up with the Smiths. I am living with a wonderful man who loves me; I have good health, joy, and am my true self again. Now, don’t get me wrong, everything is not perfect. I have thrown the word perfect away. By all means, some would say that my life is kind of backwards and a mess, but there is an authenticity to my mess, and there is a freedom in that.

Time to kill the current “me”

The first thing I had to do in my journey back to my true self was to kill my present self, not literally, metaphorically. One thing I am working on is patience. Being impatient can be helpful in the business world, but it is a horrible quality to cope with when healing. If you break a leg, you can’t hurry up the process. The leg heals in its own time. Nature has its own time clock.

Typically, I am the type of person who has to have a plan before I begin anything. In business, I always have some kind of solid plan with strategies, numbers, pictures, and plan Bs. I am the queen of plan B, and that has helped me get promoted faster than others. In my personal life, the plans are looser. I will have a basic idea of what I want to accomplish, and then I figure things out along the way.

When I decided to get the real Stephanie back, I had no plan, and I wanted it to happen right away. At the time, I just knew that I had a hunk of money from my stock options, and that I could financially do whatever I wanted to and not worry about food and shelter. So, the first thing I did to kill the present Stephanie was to quit my high profile marketing job, at a flourishing Silicon Valley start-up that was no longer a small company but a $Billion success story. I still had one more year to vest in my pre-IPO options, which equated to a large some of money, but I did not care. There was no way I could spend one more day in that place. I was so clear in getting back to my true self that parts of her were already starting to kick in. The first sign was realizing that I could not heal properly and live this image I created at this company. There would be too much mess and honesty, and you weren’t allowed to be imperfect in this company because everyone was “world-class talent.” I hate PR bullshit.

The slow painful death of my soul was not worth staying one more year to get the money. Many people can do it, but I am not one of those. I have seen people chose money over their lives, and watched it destroy themselves and their families. A lot of people in my company were rich monetarily, but poor spiritually and emotionally. They had cash but their significant others left them, their children didn’t know who they were any more, or their health was deteriorating.  They betrayed those who had helped them in order to climb their way up. They cheated and lied to get what they needed to succeed, and mostly they became arrogant, so smug. Arrogance is so ugly, and I was no different. I got to experience my own arrogance. Not a pretty site at all. Most people, because of the on going stress, aged about 10 years in a 3-year period, gained lots of weight, got deeper worry lines on their face, and overall just looked lifeless.  But hey, you’re loaded, so you can buy your youth back with some nip/tuck.

When I gave my notice, I was calm. There was no hate, fear, love or relief. There was just calm. This was actually the first time in my life I had left a job calm. I also did not take much from my cubicle. Usually, I am very sentimental, and take things just because there is some emotional tie. This time I took 2 small boxes, and filled my backpack, and that was it. In the boxes were primarily clothes and personal items I used for all-niters. I walked out those doors for the last time, and didn’t even look back when I drove away. Part 1 was complete. I killed my corporate self.

Dream uninterrupted

So, if depression is your soul’s way of warning you that you are traveling too far from your true self and need to come back home, then I had traveled from Earth to Pluto. I remember having a dream, and it is one of those dreams that stick with you because it is so heart pounding in its simplicity. What makes it scary is that while in the dream, you are not aware it’s a dream because it takes place in your every day life. In this dream of mine, my alarm clock went off as usual and I woke up with that same dread I did every morning. I don’t want to go to work, that place makes me sick. I dragged myself to the bathroom, and splashed water on my face to wake up. On automatic pilot and eyes still closed, I grabbed the hand towel on the left wall rack as I did every morning to wipe my face off. After wiping the night off my face, I looked up into the mirror and saw only the wall of the bathroom in front of the mirror. My reflection was not in the mirror. I started to panic because I knew I was physically in that bathroom, and yet there was no reflection of me in the mirror. I grab the mirror with both hands to try and find some kind of proof that I existed, but nothing. I know I exist. I’m here. Why can’t I see myself? The panic and anxiety swell like a tidal wave, and I scream in terror. “Why!”

I jump up in bed, and it’s 4:30 in the morning, two more hours before I have to get ready for the day. I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. I’m sweaty. I look to see myself in the bedroom mirror, so I know I am here. When all is accounted for, I curl up like a baby and cry. I have had this same dream a few times, and I do not need a dream dictionary or shrink to tell me what it means. The dream is telling me that I can’t see my true self anymore because I have gotten rid of her. The true Stephanie does not exist in this world any more because I am doing everything in my power to be what other people expect me to be instead of who I want to be, or frankly, to be who I am. I have buried the real Stephanie because I am afraid to be her.

Time and bad experiences have solidified in my heart that being my true self equals brutality. As the years go by, I only foresee that when I shine my bright light, the dazzle, and vibrance that God gave me, I get brutalized by others who are jealous, and live small. I get betrayed, raped, humiliated, beaten, have love taken away from me, and made to feel small because those around me who are small are threatened. They are threatened not because they think this woman is better than them, they are threatened because this woman reminds them that they have chosen to live small. My brightness shines the light on their own darkness. You can no longer hide in a room where sunshine has appeared. Instead, of learning and growing from those brighter, these people choose to beat down those around them. If they can’t build themselves up, then they will darken those around them who illuminate. I do not fight back because I think I am alone. I do not fight back because a part of me is just so afraid they are right, and I loathe myself because I am so chicken shit.

In my dreams, my soul is not gently talking to me any more; it’s elevated to scare tactics. Makes sense because I am not listening any more. I try to stuff the gut feelings and the intuition. I am the one in power of my soul not the other way around. I am so blind and naïve. Actually, I am downright stupid and arrogant. No one can make it alone, and that includes trying to separate you from your own spirit and soul. You cannot do the work all by yourself. It’s supposed to be a team effort. It’s okay to ask for help, and I am learning the hard way.

I know that I cannot live this way anymore. I cannot live in fear of my light. I cannot pretend to be who I am not. I cannot punish myself any more because I have failed at being perfect. I cannot continue to carry my pain alone. I have a decision to make, I either chose to bring the real me back to this world and live, or I continue on my current path, and die. Perhaps not physically, but my soul will definitely die. In October of 2001, I chose to live and go back to my true self. It was the beginning of a death, and the beginning of a journey.

"Perfect" depression: Your soul is warning you

Someone told me once that depression is your soul telling you that you have traveled too far from who you really are. We have our true selves, and our social selves, the image that we portray to the world. When those two selves start to become too far apart, our souls start communicating to us to tell us that we are drifting too far from our true self, and that we need to start going back. So, depression is that signal our soul sends. The way then to truly combat depression is to go back to who you are so that the true self and social self are one in the same. At first, I didn’t understand this concept, so I thought about it for days. I can fixate on something until I can figure it out. I am a natural born problem solver, and come with a huge sense of curiosity and wonderment.

I started by thinking about people I know or who I have met who are happy. I mean sincerely happy, not fake happy. You can always tell because real happiness shines through the eyes, and the energy around that person is uplifting. You just start to feel better around someone like that because the joy radiates. Fake happy people don’t have the same glimmer in their eyes. Examples of life that radiate true joy are babies and dogs. Babies only know love and joy until someone teaches them something else. Dogs will love their masters no matter what they do to them.

People who are truly happy do not suffer from on-going depression, and people who are living the lives they have always wanted, and are being the people they have always wanted to be do not suffer on-going depression. Why because their true self and social self are one in the same. It seems very simple, and logical.

When we start out as babies, we are a clean slate. We come to this world only with the knowledge of love, eating, burping, and pooping. We start to develop our social selves through our families, school, the media, and our general surroundings. We grow up and become someone. That someone can be what you always wanted to be or it can be what someone else wanted you to be or what you thought people wanted you to be.

The classic example is the daughter who’s social self becomes “The perfect woman”. She gets straight A’s in school. She has the picture book career .She dates the right men. She follows the rules. She doesn’t drink, take drugs, or sleep around. She volunteers for after school projects. She stays thin and pretty, and she does everything “right.” Her whole life is built around this image of being perfect. But deep down she knows it’s all a front. and impossible to maintain.

Miss perfect starts suffering from “one wrong move” syndrome. I make one mistake and my cover is blown. Which then eventually breeds into self-hatred because deep down she knows she is really a phony, a fraud. In fact, she may even come to hate the very image she created. The depression grows greater every year the mask is worn. But, she keeps up the charade because she has invested years in building this persona, and she will not take the risk of being her real self because there’s the fear, the trembling, consuming fear that she might find herself in a place where she is without love and acceptance from the very people she is trying so hard to impress.

“Happy” pills

I remember a time when it used to be a huge stigma to say that you were on anti-depressants. It was like saying, “I’m a loser because I cannot control my emotions.” I used to be one of those judgmental people who thought that of others on anxiety medications. That is perhaps one of the reasons why the universe put me in the “other” shoes.

The pill companies have gotten way to powerful in my opinion. If you think about it, there is a pill for everything. Every one, every day, is taking a pill for something. We’re sad. Take a pill. Got fat. Take a pill. Want to make sure you have all your vitamins and nutrients, take these pills. Can’t focus. Take a pill. Want to stop living in the Matrix, take the red pill.

There are pros and cons to the “happy” pills, but personally, I did not like my experience at all on them. They did serve a purpose, but not one I wanted long term. One time, I tried to get myself off of them without telling my doctor, and boy, was that the hugest mistake ever. If you are thinking about doing that or are in the middle of doing that without telling your doctor, stop right now, and talk to your physician. If you hate him/her, then get a new doctor. Life becomes worse when you come down too quickly off the “happy” pills. You turn into the “ black tidal wave” which I called it. After being on the pills. I became far more sympathetic and understanding towards the struggle that people with emotional issues deal with.

The pills served its function in keeping me physically calm during my initial stages of dealing with the rape, but for long term, I did not want to be on these chemicals. As well, the traditional western way of treating patients was not helping me any more. Traditional therapy was okay, but not really making huge impacts in my healing. This is when I started looking at naturopathic and holistic treatments. This path opened up a whole new world to me that felt natural, caring, and unifying. In my doctor’s office, my psychiatrist’s office or my therapist’s office, I always felt like a research subject. I felt like they only treated parts, and not the whole me.

One thing I’ve learned during the move to naturopathic treatments is why traditional weight loss programs never work. They are based on treating parts, and not the whole. People get fat primarily to protect themselves. The fat is a subconscious layer of armor to protect you from pain. If you don’t treat the emotional and spiritual pain, all the exercising and dieting in the world will not work long term. The skinny jeans remain in the closet.

Last time in skinny jeans (Part deux)

It was a Wednesday in July of 2001. I walked into the office and was supposed to go to an off site for a day of fun with my co-workers, Bocce ball, and pizza, but instead of going to my cube, I went to the HR lady, and had a complete nervous breakdown. I became hysterical, and could not stop crying. I was hyper ventilating, and on the verge of throwing up. After 15 minutes of crying about work stuff, it came out. I started talking about my past, and then out came the rape. In five years, the HR lady was the first person I had ever spoken of what Chad did to me. What triggered my nervous break down, which I know call me nervous break through, was a series of events that were piling up and pushing me over the edge. As I mentioned before, the universe never lets you get out of your lessons. For me, my lessons involve standing up to predators, and being loving to myself. So, I tried to run away from the problems with Chad at the old company, and in my new company the players were different but the theme was the same.

During that five years of silence, my life was filled with a great deal of turmoil as well as a great deal of financial success. It was ironic. On one hand, I was drowning in a world of binging & purging, binge drinking, and self-mutilation, and on the other hand, I became a millionaire at the start-up I worked at. When I first saw my stock hit $1 million, I had a good laugh at Chad because I knew that he wanted to be a millionaire also, and I had beat him to it. He may have had more power than me, but I made far more money than he did, so I win. Right. Chad stuck with the old company, which ended up getting bought by a bigger fish, and went nowhere. I was working at a hot company making more money than any of my friends or family. That fact should have helped my pain, but it didn’t. It actually made it worse. Here I could make millions, yet I could not make the pain of what one man did to me go away.

I could not maintain an intimate relationship with any man after Chad, yet I was an ace at helping my company close multi-million dollar deals. All my friends were getting married and starting families. I was being glam queen by flying all over the world. At the end of every trip though, I would come home to a cold, stark apartment filled with plastic plants. Real plants require love and attention, and I couldn’t even spare that for a plant. In hindsight, I believe I booked more travel just so I could avoid being alone in my sad apartment. I was gone 19 days out of 30 each month, stayed at 5 star hotels, and ate at 5 star restaurants. I also had an almost unlimited expense account because I had to entertain customers. It’s very easy to develop an eating and drinking problem when you’re not paying for any of it. My excuse was always that I was entertaining the customers, and all of them were a party bunch. I tried so hard to use glamour as a way to run away from myself, and the pain.

Physically, I spent the last year, sick all the time. I had a cold that never went away. I had terrible eczema on my skin that would always itch and flake. I would literally get boils on my butt and legs. I had stomach issues, and constant body aches. A couple times, I broke out in hives. I started to get nasty hangovers that took 2-3 days to recover from. On one trip to Colorado, I arrived at my hotel room, and got a 101 degree fever. I was supposed to work a sales training event, and my customer ended up having to do the event by himself. I felt so rotten, and so like a total loser. I’m the responsible one, and I couldn’t keep it together. Every little illness was my body’s way of talking to me, and I wouldn’t listen. I wouldn’t stop to take care of myself. I had to keep running because if I stopped I would have to be with my pain.

No one knew how bad the turmoil inside of me was because I am an extraordinary actress. I would make everything look as close to picture perfect as possible. I used a picture frame in the header graphic of this blog as a symbol for that very reason. Things though can’t be too perfect because then you start to look creepy, so I put out just enough anguish to appear like everyone else. Many people who have the same ability to make things look better than what they really are go into marketing and sales careers. Fortunately, at work, I wasn’t the only fucked up person in my group. In fact, at this new company, one of the HR people told me that the most dysfunctional group in the whole company was marketing. I guess we were a group of serious emotional basket cases. Yet, we all did our jobs so well. Again, ironic.

After the break down in the office, the HR lady made me go home, and then told me to go to my doctor and get her to put me on medical leave. I did not know that you could go on medical leave for a nervous break down. I thought you had to have something that required surgery, chemo, or pregnancy. I didn’t have a regular doctor, so I had to go find one. For all my, health issues, I just went to the emergency room. It took me 2 days to find a doctor that would take me. Apparently, every hospital in my area was booked, filled, or over crowded. Finally, I got someone to take me because I broke down on the phone, and she felt sorry for me, so she made an exception. This first visit to the doctor, for a nervous break down, welcomed me to the world of “happy” pills.

The last time I was in skinny jeans

(Pre-warning: This entry deals with rape. If you are not comfortable with this subject, please click away now.)

When I was 29, a boyfriend who was also a co-worker of mine raped me. I was one of the hot marketing girls, and he was the up and coming hot shot sales guys. This guy who I’ll call Chad (not his real name) was the kind of guy that I always dreamed about having but could never get. He was Mr. Dreamy. He went to a prestigious Ivy league college, and got an MBA from a similar top 10 school. He was an officer in the Gulf War, and had soap opera good looks. He owned his own home before the age of 30, and drove a snazzy car. He was Catholic (my parents loved that), and had parents that were still married to each other. Chad had every quality that would impress any parent, and knock any woman he focused his attention on off her feet. Chad was the ungettable get, the kind of guy that would make all your girlfriends and their friends green with envy, and this hot guy wanted me.

Not only did Chad want me, he chased after me. I finally got to be that hot girl who had a hot guy chasing after her. I had to pinch myself. I couldn’t believe all this was happening. During this time, was also the last time I was back in skinny jeans. So, on top of having the hot guy, I was in rapture over having the hot body. It was so perfect, too perfect in fact, and that should have been the glaring red flag that I should have paid attention to.

Red flags were all over the place and I should have paid attention to them, but I was so caught up in the bliss of having this hot guy, that I put on total blinders. There is this notion that beautiful people are supposed to be trust-worthy and honest. We all think it. Think about it, if you had to choose between a slob and a Brad Pitt look-a-like to valet your car, you’d pick old Blue eyes in a heartbeat. In reality, he is the thief, and the bum looking guy is the prince, but you pick the actor looking guy because you assume that good looking people are supposed to be trust worthy. You get mad at yourself because in hindsight something about Brad look-a-like didn’t feel right, but you wrote it off to indigestion. In the case of Chad, he was the good-looking liar, manipulator, and predator. Because he was also a charmer, no one could believe he was capable of having a dark side. 

The rape occurred at his house. That night started out nice but turned into something terrifying. Chad had also been a former body builder, and was 6’ tall so he was a big and strong guy. I could not fight him, so I just waited for him to be done. Afterward, I ran into the bathroom, and cried. After 10 minutes, he knocked on the door, and was so apologetic. He even cried. I forgave him because he cried. Later on, he did everything he could to try and ruin me at work. He even got other people involved. He couldn’t just leave things alone, he had to be a bully to prove that he was the one with power. I was very passive in fighting back. In the end, I just left the company in order to get away from dealing with this lesson. The universe unfortunately does not work that way. The next place you go, the same lesson will show up until you have the guts to deal with it.

I did not call this incident rape until 5 years later. I could not. I buried what happened to me, and told no one. I explained away his actions. I am a good Catholic girl. I have done everything right my whole life. I follow the rules, and I am a good girl. Bad things do not happen to nice people. Someone perfect like Chad cannot be violent and hurtful. Someone you love does not rape you. You name the denial, and I used it.

You can try to bury an emotionally painful event like this, but it will never stay buried. It will fight its way to come to the surface, and if you choose not to deal with it, the pain can only be silenced with vices like drugs, alcohol, promiscuity, porn, gambling, eating disorders, cutting yourself, shopping beyond your debt, working 80 hours a week, or any other vice you can get our hands on to feel anything but the pain. Every day, you become more and more detached from your body. You would never commit suicide, but you also don’t want to be on earth anymore. You ask God to just take you back home to heaven. He says you have to stay, and then you hate him for not being there to save you. You hate God because he abandoned you when you needed him the most. You followed all his rules, and even then, that did not stop the tragedy. It’s not fucking fair.

It all doesn’t stop until you have the courage to finally face your pain, confront it, stop playing the victim, and call it what it really is: rape. This by the way, was not the first time I had to deal with a sexual predator. It was the first time though where I was physically hurt. For five years, I chose to be a victim. I was destroying my body, my soul, and my life in order to keep this pain silent, and to keep from stepping up and fighting for myself. I wanted someone else to do it for me. I did not love myself in order to care for myself. It got so bad, that I did not choose to make the decision to face my pain on my own, my body made that choice for me, and shut down. Off to the doctors I went.

Poem: The exquisite chase

Where is beauty?
Chasing and chasing that dream for lifetimes
Tireless, consistent, focused, and unrelenting
Anxiety gets stronger as age catches up to me
I ache for that magical state of beauty

One day, the dream finally comes true.
But it was not what I had expected or envisioned
I wanted a bottle, a procedure, a magic potion, a validation
Yes, I tried them all before, but there had to be something else yet to be known
I grip onto that belief for dear approval

Beauty was found inside: heart, mind and soul
Disappointing yet liberating
Forever and a day chasing something that was already in my possession
Anywhere but inside, beauty is fleeting.
Outside is loud indeed, but you will never win.
Never.
My head knows this, but my heart still cannot grasp
Inside, you cannot lose what is and always will be yours

New Years confession

Everyone makes New Years resolutions, but I stopped doing that years ago because I would make them and then by January 5th I would inevitably slip, and then keep on slipping. It would then start the whole self loathing part of why I can’t be disciplined, and why can’t I be “perfect.” The drive to be perfect has been the dominant motivator in my life, as it is for many women. The yo-yo to and from the skinny jeans is part of that whole “perfect” picture we need in order to complete the scene.

This year though, I have decided to make just one New Year’s resolution. Why is this year any different than before? Well, I realized that one of the positive things about New Year’s resolutions is that it gives you a goal to strive for. All those years I spent trying to be perfect actually made me very goal oriented, and so because of that I was able to accomplish everything I ever wanted to do in my life. I can honestly say that if I died tonight, I have done almost everything I wanted to do on this planet. However, I realized the other day that I have not done EVERYTHING I wanted to do. What’s left? I don’t want to leave this planet afraid, and right now in all honesty, I live in fear. I look at everything in my life at the moment that I am not happy with or where I feel stuck, and realize that it all revolves around one basic fear. So, my New Year’s resolution for 2006 is: Face my fear of living a bigger life, and finally step into it.

Facing this fear has more to do with my career than anything else. Actually, it’s not about career it’s about living my life purpose. I am one of those believers that everyone is born with special skills and talents that are designed to make the world a better place. Even if you don’t think that you have something special, I’m telling you that you do. Our whole reason for living is learning how to become more loving spirits. Living on earth is nothing but one huge learning lesson, and each of us have particular lessons that we need to learn. One of mine is learning that I am lovable faults and all.

I have spent the last 2 years of my life hiding. I would not admit that before, but taking a hard look at my life, I know that is the truth. Looking at every place where I am stuck in my life I know is because I will not move forward. My life is very safe, but I am nowhere near utilizing the gifts and talents God gave me, and Dr. Phil would tell me that is selfish of me. He’s right.

So, one of the first things I am going to do with facing my fear of living a bigger life is to share with you some of the things that have been keeping me from moving forward. It will be a gut wrenching experience to share some of these things publicly, but I am doing it not only to help face my fear, but to help others. By sharing my personal story of pain and sorrow, perhaps I can help make a difference to someone else’s life. If anything, you’ll know that you’re not alone, and that there can be positive endings to painful stories.