NonTraditional Narcissism

NonTraditional Narcissism

In 2009 I lost 30 pounds and it totally transformed my life. I know: old news; you’ve heard it before. And probably many times from me. You might even be aware of the fact that since my total transformation, I’ve led a pretty nontraditional life. The thing is, I have some severe narcissism regarding nontraditionalism, to the point that those who do not favor my nontraditional views – do not exist to me. Ok, maybe that’s a little harsh. But since leading a transformed life, my patience for antiquated ideas and long-established traditions that do anything but promote equality among all people – has vanished. Sure, let me elaborate.

First off, you’ve heard me say before that losing weight was not just about losing weight. The choice to take control of my wellness was the first choice I had made for myself, maybe ever. It was the one thing I had struggled with my whole life, and finally admitting that I had a problem – and further choosing to do something about it – was quite possibly one of the most defining moments in my life. The journey that followed proved just that. When I started losing the weight, I started realizing that it really wasn’t that hard. And it made me question what other seemingly “hard” things I’d avoided as well. Much like the Prego commercials where someone asks themselves what other questionable choices they’d made prior to choosing the right pasta sauce, I was wondering the same. But just like the choice to eat Prego only from now on, I decided to start making the hard choices always. By the very definition, it wasn’t easy, but it was damn rewarding. Momastery has been saying it for years now, but We CAN Do Hard Things, and it is an amazing feeling when we do.

One of the hard choices I had avoided for much of my life was consistently standing up for what I believed was good and true and right in this world – especially when it came to how other people should be treated. Yes, I had moments during my nontraditional upbringing where I would point out to people that their words and views were hurting other people’s feelings (e.g., phrases like “that movie is retarded” and “your backpack is gay” didn’t fly with me). But in my desperate need to not ruffle any feathers, I rarely said or did much else, even if I thought otherwise. I know that’s probably true of most of us; we aren’t all activists, even if our beliefs and values are in the right places.

In my lifetime, and given where I was raised, there wasn’t a lot of adversity that I was a part of, or would have even needed to stand up to. I grew up in a town that was predominantly Jewish, but I was not. But I wasn’t Christian either. I had (and still have) no religious identity, so I never suffered persecution of any sort – but I never saw my friends suffer, either. I also grew up in a town that was predominantly white and wealthy, which I was (somewhat). Our town was part of the METCO program, where kids living in inner-city Boston would take a 45 minute bus ride in the morning just to come out to our tiny town to get a supposed better education. I could say too much about my personal views on the psychological implications the METCO program has on those inner-city kids, but instead right now I just want to say that the METCO program provided me with the only example of racial diversity I had in my childhood. In our ugly, pubescent, blemish-ridden, middle-school years, we were all equally awkward and uncomfortable, so in essence we were all the same – regardless of skin color. Growing  up with my mother’s best friend being gay (my “gay uncle”), and many of my parents’ friends in theater also being gay, it was just another trait, like eye color and hair color. By middle school I already had friends who were out, and again, they were no different than me. When I moved to Boston in 2003, I was obviously surrounded with the most diversity I had faced in my life to date – race, class, age – it was a whole new world. And although everything and everyone was different than what I knew in so many ways, it was the biggest reminder that we are all different – which means we’re also equal.

I took very strongly to the civil rights movement when it was taught to me in middle school. You might even say I became a bit obsessed with it for a while. Same was true of the Holocaust teachings. Later of the Matthew Shepard story. That might sound a bit morbid or unhealthy – but it was the utter shock and disbelief that people did hold such strong negative views about people they didn’t even know – and that they would take such horrific action based on those beliefs. I’ve never understood it, and I never will, so I stopped trying to. Instead, I just vowed to never be like them. And whether I stand up on a soap box and preach it or not, I know that I have never been like them.

I’m still not an activist, but now I am an active example of a nontraditional choice – many in fact. I believe in being 100% authentically you and never letting anyone shame you for your choices (yes, that also applies to those who judge wholeheartedly and unfairly – but I still won’t put an asterisk after that statement and amend it to say *but only if your views are right and fair and just). I believe, no matter what, that everyone gets the benefit of the doubt. Give them that, always give them that. And I know ignorance, actual lack of knowledge, does account for so many of the types of beliefs that I just don’t tolerate. Even our closest friends and family members don’t know everything about our lives or loves. It feels just as wrong for me to judge a broken marriage portrayed in Hollywood as it does to judge that of a best friend or family member. There is always just so much we don’t know about other people. But it is not my job to teach it all. I lead by example only, but my life is full and busy and complicated as it is – I don’t know how to also provide the lessons that tell someone not to judge people by their appearances. An uncut lawn doesn’t mean someone doesn’t have pride in their home; maybe it means they would rather spend what little free time they have with their family rather than mowing their grass. A pair of Nike sneakers on a middle school kid who is bussed in from Boston doesn’t mean his parents are irresponsible or frivolously spending their money; maybe it means they want their son to fit in and feel psychologically secure with friends and not have to be the outsider in every single way. An age gap between two people in a relationship doesn’t mean that it won’t last; maybe love just has its own timetable and it doesn’t matter how old you are but rather how open you are. The lessons are there, it’s teaching people to open their eyes that is the difficult part.

I admittedly don’t know everything, but I also know that no one else does either. And as our social world continues to evolve, all I know is that keeping a tight grasp on tradition, simply because it is what we know, can really make a mess of things. Treating others with decency, kindness, and respect is the only acceptable option. And as someone who spent years before straying from tradition to make one choice that changed every day that followed, I know how invaluable the nontraditional approach is.

Narcissism is defined as the pursuit of gratification from vanity of egotistic admiration of one’s own attributes. And so not only will I take a nontraditional meaning of this word by proudly applying it to myself, but I will further say that I greatly admire my nontraditional approach to life and choose only to associate with others who do the same. If you refuse to open your mind enough to believe in change, then I only have two words for you: Bye Felicia.

Nelle Loves You

You know those things that the rational side of your brain totally realizes are not a big deal, but your inner righteous babe cannot let lie? It turns out, my inner righteous babe is hard to quiet.
 
I know that I am loved, by my partner and our kids. I know that I am valued by both as well. I know that I help make our family run and that my purpose in our family operations is grand and important and needed. I know all of those things. I know that I help make lunches, get the kids ready for bed, cut nails, assist with teeth brushing (except after getting ice cream…), do laundry, pick up and drop off from school and camp, help with homework, teach life lessons, make memories, and create special bonds with each of our kids. I know that these things outside of my love are what make me a mother. I know that in the ways our kids say they have three moms, ask if they can call me Mom, ask for “the other Mommy” when I’m not the one responding to their pleas, and even when they tell their friends, “I can’t do that, my mom says no,” when they’ve just asked to do something they know they shouldn’t.
 
But when your mom-name is Nelle, nobody else knows that.
 
And while I can sit with my equitable heart and know that what I know I have is more important than what others see and think, my righteous babe keeps yelling anyway.
 
My righteous babe shakes her fists when other’s hear “Nelle, can we play for 5 more minutes?” and they think I am a babysitter or the nanny (ok maybe being forced to say I was the nanny in the beginning makes that one particularly stinging).
 
My righteous babe gets a little red in the face when I sign a permission slip or call the school and my name does not match our children’s or my partner’s, and they have to check if I’m authorized.
 
My righteous babe rolls her eyes when it is questioned why I would want to be present at parent-teacher conferences, or doctor and dentist appointments. And my righteous babe even gets full on self-righteous when someone gives one of our kids an item of clothing that says “Mommy Loves You.”
 
Guess what? Nelle loves you too. But no one is making shirts that say that.
 
And my rational brain says that it is completely absurd to ever get in argument with the woman you love because you find a “Mommy’s Little Devil” shirt picked out for school the next day. And it’s not because you do not want your partner, the biological mother of your collective children, to be robbed of the opportunity to put said collective children in ridiculous clothing with foolish slogans.
 
It is because you can never have that opportunity.
 
And sure, my rational brain knows there are a million opportunities that I do have as Nelle that I am insanely grateful for. Insanely. So I assure you that these righteous babe moments are few and far between, and – fortunately – fleeting. But I would be lying if I said they didn’t happen.
 
So – Tinies, Little – if you want to puffy-paint on your graduation gown “Nelle Loves You”, I won’t object. My righteous babe will cheer and hoot and holler louder than you’ve seen her yet. And it’ll embarrass you just as you’d expect to be embarrassed by your mom. Just saying…

 

Nelle w/ Kids @ Honey Pot

 

You Deserve Your Thing

 
Me & Coffee

 
Recently I shared my choice to live for love – even when it’s hard and messy and doesn’t make sense to anyone else. The response was – honestly – overwhelming. I am continually amazed at how my words and my experiences resonate with other people. People that are my people. The best kind of people.

I wanted to write somewhat of a follow-up, or an extension to my last post on choosing to live for love. Because I think there is more to say about my choice.

I was incredibly fortunate to grow up in a family where we were strongly encouraged to chase our dreams and follow our own path, the paths that made us happy. I learned this first from my grandfather, a politician and highly successful entrepreneur himself, who would have loved to see his grandchildren follow in his footsteps, but who was always proud of us when we chose our own directions. As long as I was striving to learn and grow, he was supportive and proud. So when I went from theater, to psychology, to wellness – he was always on board. But more than that, he believed that being happy with your life choices was equally important – or at least that is how he always made me feel. At 90 years old, he accepted my choice of love with open arms and an open heart – even if he couldn’t quite understand that choice himself. He shifted and changed with the times, and he was truly the first to show me the importance of being unapologetically me. That there is never a reason to be sorry for who you are, as long as you were continually trying to be better.

When I made the decision in 2009 to put myself first, I was giving myself a chance to truly chase my dreams and find my thing –  my big, bold, beautiful love. In 2009 I started to take charge of a problem that had plagued me my entire life – my weight. And while losing weight did help me gain confidence with my external self, it was the changes that happened internally that, I believe, really led me to find my great big love. How so? It can honestly be summed up with one question – if I could do the thing that had challenged me my entire life (losing weight), didn’t I deserve the thing I always wanted (a great big love)?

And when she came into my life, I realized the universe had answered me. Yes, I did. Because finally, I was being better, doing better, and living MUCH bigger. I was living out loud, unafraid, and open. I was putting my best self forward, every day. And as I recently thought more and more about my choice to live for love, I realized that my dreams have come true, I am exactly what I want to be, and I am living a life bigger and better than I ever could have imagined. My big dream was to find a big love. And now that I have it, my job is to do everything in my power to keep it…work at it, grow with it, shift and change as it moves…and pay it forward.

IMG_7432

 
I know that it may not seem like a direct correlation – that maybe you don’t even think that your overall wellness has anything to do with the thing you want most in this world, but I can promise that for some of you, it does. That for some of you, your health (physical and mental) has been last on your priority list. And if you aren’t putting your best self out there, why do you deserve your thing? Now that might sound a little harsh, but I 100% believe EVERYONE does deserve their thing! So all I’m saying is that it starts with you.

I was able to find the one thing that I always wanted, the thing that makes my life so incredibly full. And while I tend to my own garden of love – all I want is for everyone to find their thing too. For some people that thing is building a life around a talent – artists, musicians, athletes, etc. For some people it’s about finding the right medium or avenue to help people be happier and have a better life experience. For others still it might be about creating a business around something they are incredibly passionate about, believe in, and trust others will benefit from. Whatever the thing, everyone should have a chance to have it.

It starts with recognizing the one thing that holds you back, and believing that you can achieve it. Even if your thing seems impossible right now, trust that your question – If I can do the thing that has challenged me my entire life, don’t I deserve the thing I’ve always wanted? – will be answered too.

So how do I pay it forward? I know that I would not be the person I am today, living the life I have today, if I had not chosen to make myself a priority. I regularly put time and effort into making my mind and body strong and healthy, and as a result I have clarity and focus like never before. I am positive, joyful, and resilient. And so are you, you might just need a little push. A push to realize that it’s ok to put yourself first. A push to realize that you can make it over your biggest hurdles. A push to realize that health and happiness are 100% intertwined. A push to realize that a healthy being is freeing.

So let me be the push that you need to be your best self so that you can find your thing. Because you absolutely deserve your thing.

Let’s talk, schedule a call with me here.

*you are no good for anyone else until you are the best version of yourself* 

 

It’s A Choice, Not A Given

“Me? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I saw, I’m scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.” – Baby, Dirty Dancing

 

Dirty-dancing

 
When I was younger, I had a lot of anxieties. Like a lot. I was a pretty big rule follower, but mostly because I just had a lot of fear around what would happen if I were to stray off course. I saw what it did to other people, and I didn’t like it. I was also 10 years old when I made this assessment, but the decision to stay on the straight-and-narrow was one that impacted me for a long time.

I didn’t take risks. I judged those who did. I needed everything to be just so. And if it wasn’t, I freaked out. Like complete meltdown, internalization of stress that manifested physically (in really unfortunate bathroom-related ways…). Until my mid-twenties, I was, hands-down, a Nervous Nellie.

My older sister has always been the complete opposite of me in this respect (and in most, really). She was big, bold, and beautiful (and maybe even a little bit bad at times), from the second she came out of the womb. And growing up, I was totally jealous. I couldn’t shake my fears and worries and she was just out there being unapologetically her. We accepted and somewhat embraced our opposing roles in life. So much so, that when my mother gave me a bracelet for Christmas one year that said “fearless” my sister and I both burst out laughing as soon as I opened the box. I looked at my sister, quoted Dirty Dancing, and put that bracelet right back in the box, where it stayed forever. Over time, my role only became enhanced.

I was, for all intents and purposes, the goodie-two-shoes with all the “right” friends, getting good grades, and ultimately following all the rules. I was…boring.

But instead of actually being boring, I decided to find ways to make my predisposition appreciated, rather than hated. I was a good student, but more importantly, I liked doing school. I liked the routine and consistency and getting that nice pat-on-the-back when you did it right.

Got to class on time. Check!

Handed in my assignment on time. Check!

Studied for my test. Check!

The formula was easy enough to follow that even though I wasn’t the smartest, I could be one of the best. And that was a good feeling. It was a good feeling I rode for a really long time – like 20 years of school long time. And I’m sure I’ve got some actual intelligence going on too, but it was always more about the discipline than the baseline knowledge.

It was graduate school that really threw me off my seemingly solid foundation of fortitude. I didn’t even plan on going to graduate school. I was just doing school so much and so well, that I kept doing it (thanks to a suggestion from my advisor). But that’s where things took a rather unexpected turn for me. You don’t accidentally do graduate school, or what I mean is – you shouldn’t.

The 5 years I “did” school to receive my doctorate, were more formative than any other 5 years of my life. And not because of my studies. I realized that just doing school, wasn’t enough anymore. I was overwhelmed for the first time in my life. Things were not just so. And I couldn’t get a handle on the constant feeling of not being good enough. There were just so many other kick-ass graduate students that were doing it better than me. Usually that would motivate me to want to be just like them, but it didn’t – I didn’t want to sell my soul to science and I didn’t want to lose the work-life balance I had come to need so much. But for that first year of school, I really hated that I wasn’t one of the best. It was a blow to my academic ego, and I knew that in order to survive, I had to go about it another way.

This is where I made a choice to do it differently. After nearly deciding to leave my graduate program in that first year, I knew that leaving because it was hard and different wasn’t going to help be me successful. So I decided to tackle life in an entirely different way. Maybe I wasn’t good at being a high intellect in a fancy graduate department, but you know what? I was really, really good at working with people, being consistent, planning ahead, and getting. shit. done. So I networked my ass off and put my best foot forward, and got my shit done…and then got the hell out.

People often tell me that they see me as this incredibly organized and efficient person. I smile at that because I actually do pride myself on those exact skills. But they were a choice. Those were skills I honed for years with deliberate effort, they were not part of my born character. I became a researcher and a problem solver, not a sit-back-in-the-corner scaredy-pants. I realized all I want is to help people, and if there is a problem – as small as an error message on your phone or as large as an impending divorce – I want to figure it out and make it better. Period.

I love solutions, love them! So if there is something I’m not doing well right now, and I want to do it well, you better believe I’m going to start, step-by-step, improving my skill-set in that exact area. I’m going to schedule myself to listen to podcasts, read blogs, books, join communities, and talk about – whatever it is. Because that is how you get better, and that is how you do better. It’s not an accident. It’s not just who you are. It’s a choice.

I survived grad school and walked out with my degree, head held incredibly high. And not because I was the best at it. Because I made the choice to make myself better in the ways that I knew I wanted to be better. I learned so much about myself in those 5 years. But most importantly, I unwound. I let go of the idea that everything had to be just so. I learned that even when it’s not, it’s exactly how it’s supposed to be. That in those moments where it’s scary and terrifying, we grow more than ever. And that person I was before 25, isn’t around anymore. The unknown doesn’t scare me, I am hungry and eager to taste it and see what it can do for me. How it can help me make my next bold move. And it’s the reason why I don’t have to fear that I will walk out of this room and never feel the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.

CSI: My Trash Does Not Define Me

Me Misc

 
I used to watch a lot of crime shows. My second year of grad school I became completely addicted to CSI and I would come home after 12+ hour days and watch three episodes back to back on my couch (with a box of Cheez-Its, which led to lots of bad things, but that’s for another post). I would wonder what my “left-behind” belongings (if I was murdered, obviously), would say about me. I always loved hearing how much someone could learn about a person by what they found simply from the trash in their house.
 
Jennelle sometimes used fake nails from CVS, she clearly cared about her appearance – but not too much as these only cost $6. It also looks like she really loved cheese, there are about 100 cheese wrappers here – but all light varieties so she is likely health conscious too. There are a number of magazines here that don’t even look like they’ve been flipped through – she’s likely too busy to waste time with junk mail…
 
And the list would go on and on.
 
This wonderful pastime of mine was truly the result of being completely preoccupied with what people might be thinking about me at any given time. Now, before that sounds entirely self-centered and narcissistic, this was actually fear-based. This mostly started around my body – comparing my body to every other female and wondering if ‘they’ thought I was fat. Was I fatter than them? What did they think I was eating, drinking, etc… At some point it seemed this way of thinking expanded into all areas of my life – to a debilitating degree.
 
I would be on the train alone and wondered what people thought of what I was doing, wearing, etc. I’d feel a yearning to shout WHO I was at any moment. I wanted THEM to know that I was more than the moment they caught me in – good or bad. I wanted to be honest and not a piece of a person.
 
And I still catch myself with this mentality from time to time…
 
At the grocery store when I am alone, I want to stop other moms who are with their kids, looking completely exasperated, staring at me jealous of my solo trip – and tell them I get it.
 
At the beach alone with a trunk full of kid’s toys but no kids, I want to share the toys with the kids parked next to me so the parents know, I am them.
 
When I’m alone in public, on the phone, in a store, I want to tell everyone – I am not alone, I have the best love you could ever dream of. And she’s always with me.
 
I want to tell everyone every aspect of my life when it’s really completely unnecessary.
 
So I’ve learned to refrain. And trust that whatever piece you see of me you know is just a slice in that moment. And the thing is, I have to trust that that is the way everyone else thinks. Why? Because that is the way I think.
 
I never question the people I see. I enjoy the moments I witness or share. I never spend my time wondering who else those people are – so why would anyone waste their time worrying about who else I am. And I don’t mean “waste” as in no one should care, but that of course there are just so many unknowns about a person, so many unseen factors. You can’t learn them all, no matter how much time you have.
 
When I finally realized that I enjoy the beauty in the moments I see in others, and that I never analyze it beyond that – I decided that no one was analyzing me either. I realize that may not be entirely true, but I don’t care. I don’t want to worry another minute about what someone else might think about my character from one chance encounter. I know I cannot be defined by one moment in time. And neither can anybody else.
 
So now I would tell CSI that when I die they should go read my blogs, look at the pictures with my family, check the songs on my jPod… That my trash does not define me, and you don’t know me from what I have left behind in any dumpster.
 

I Am No Different Than You

By May of 2009, I had lost over 30 lbs and was the lowest weight I had ever been as an adult. I maintained that weight loss (within a 5 lb range) for roughly two years. The summer of 2011, I taught my first college level course while working on my doctorate. For the first time since my newly acquired healthy lifestyle, I was finding it nearly impossible to make time to workout and I was turning to food and alcohol to deal with the stress. In essence, I got a serious case of the “fuckits”. At the end of that summer I was up 10 lbs from my lowest and knew it was time to get my act together. So I did. I lost the weight the same way I had the first time and stayed within that 5 lb range. Then 2012 hit and I was working HARD to finish my degree. Once again I found myself overworked and unbalanced. My weight went back up 5 lbs give or take, and I was barely exercising at all. By the time I defended my doctorate in June of 2012, I was back down to my lowest weight ever…and I had lost 8 lbs in the 8 days preceding my defense. That week probably goes down as one of the unhealthiest of my entire journey. Yikes.

Then came the weight gain that seems to always accompany new love. By the end of summer 2012, I was up almost 15 lbs from my lowest, and it seemed like my healthy habits were nowhere in site. I barely recognized myself. My life had changed a LOT in six months, but I vowed not to lose the part of myself that had made me feel the most confident and capable. So I popped the DVDs back in and got back to it. From about September 2012-March 2014, I maintained my weight, about 5-7 lbs up from my lowest, as I was navigating an entirely new lifestyle with new challenges (working from home with three kids under the age of six and completely in love). As my 30th birthday approached in July of 2014, I decided I wanted to see if I was capable of getting back down to my lowest weight. I set a goal and busted. my. ass. By July 12th, 2014 (the day before my actual birthday), I was back down to my lowest weight since 2009. I felt accomplished and proud to have reached my goal and felt like a rockstar as I celebrated my milestone birthday.

About a month or so later…my weight was back up about 10 lbs. Between celebrations with friends, traveling and staying with family, and moving to a new house and town, I lost my balance again and was just trying to stay afloat. I wasn’t eating well (it’s hard to cook when you’ve packed-up your entire kitchen) and my only physical activity was wedding dancing and chucking junk into the dumpster. I felt like if I could just get settled, I could get a handle on everything again.

We moved at the end of August to our forever home and really started to plant our roots. I didn’t gain any weight, but I maintained my ~10 lbs up from my lowest weight (give or take) for most of the year. However, I was exercising regularly, eating well, and truly enjoying my life – my friends, my family, and my love. Until May came around. I created an accountability group to help me stay motivated and focused (and hopefully a little bit in the other direction too), and planned out my workouts and committed to a healthy summer. And completely, 100%, did not follow my plan. At all.

As July ended, I began to realize that even though I was exercising regularly (mostly) and even eating pretty well (during the week at least), I once again had a pretty severe case of the “fuckits” and couldn’t seem to care. Jokingly I had called 2015 two-thousand-FAT-teen since the new year hit, as I couldn’t get myself to find the balance. I said I was just fat and happy, and being FAPPY wasn’t so bad, especially when you knew that overall you were still pretty healthy, even if your weight wasn’t where you wanted it to be. But when I realized I was, for the first time, over 15 lbs heavier than my lowest. I not only felt like a fraud, but I was a little freaked out.

Here I was this health professional, sharing about the amazing benefits of choosing to live a healthier lifestyle (and there are just SO many benefits), and my 30+ lb weight loss was suddenly only a 15+ lb weight loss…

I decided I needed a change in mindset. Again. I had to STOP being “on” and “off” and I had to stop pushing too hard to reach goals that I could never maintain. The person I am today cannot maintain a 30+ lb weight loss and enjoy life. Yes, I can get to that weight, I did it last summer and it felt good to accomplish that goal. Now I know, once again, that I am capable.

But now I want to simply be a person who maintains a healthy lifestyle – consistent healthy habits mixed with periods of indulgence and relaxation. I know that summers are much more challenging for me than the holiday season, so I have no reason to become frustrated with my lack of effort over the last few months. What is important is that when I reach a point where I am no longer comfortable with my progress, I take action. A week ago today I reached that point, and I told myself it was time to stop the full-on indulgence, even if just for a little while, and continue on with the healthy process. A week later and I am down 5 lbs.

Here’s what I know about those 5 lbs and this past week. They may very well be the most important 5 lbs of my entire weight loss journey. In this past week, I did nothing extreme. I didn’t “buckle down” and only eat planned food, no treats, without alcohol. I didn’t plan extra workouts or turn down social engagements. I told myself last Wednesday that I wanted to see how small changes to my recent indulgent behaviors affected not only my weight, but my outlook. The results were better than I could have hoped for.

In seven days I took two 60-minute Zumba classes at my local YMCA, I danced to the new Beachbody Shaun T workout, Cize, four mornings before the work day started, I added one >30-minute Cize workout over the weekend, and had an impromptu Cize It Up family dance party after dinner last night. I had alcohol multiple times over the weekend, went out to dinner, and had my first real ice cream experience of the summer at a favorite local spot. And I ate every bite. I planned my weekday food loosely and kept awareness of my portions throughout the weekend. I did nothing drastic and I never felt deprived.

And I know that there are thousands of other people that may have eaten healthier and worked out more or harder. But I am not one of those people.

Looking back at my own weight loss journey, I see so clearly how this is a process and the only end state is happiness and acceptance. The person I am today strives for harmony over balance. Jimmy Hays Nelson has said that people always seem to be striving for balance, but that balance is a static state you achieve and then try to hold on to until you lose it again. Even when you finally achieve balance in all areas of your life, it’s only a matter of time before the wind blows and you’re thrown off-kilter again. No wonder balance seems so elusive; even the best can’t balance the world on their shoulders forever. It seems we should be striving for harmony instead, the ebb and flow of all areas working together, beautifully. It is not a trade off, it is coexistence of all elements at the same time. It is not that every aspect has equal weight at just the right moment. Harmony is reached when priorities are adjusted based on choice and necessity. That is, quite possibly, the biggest lesson I have learned throughout this process. And I no longer state the importance of a balance between all things. Instead I strive for harmony, knowing that I have all the knowledge and ability to achieve the things I want, and the power and right to choose what I want, when. 

So today I sit here writing this very open and honest post to remind myself and everyone else, that I Am No Different Than You. I face challenges, I learn, and I grow. I am not working to end up somewhere I’d rather be. I am exactly where I want to be and enjoying this place a little more every day. We are all perfectly flawed and that is what keeps it interesting. Never Stop Growing. Be the person you are, and be the best version of yourself. 

Dr. J (8.12.15)

 

FAPPY in Two-Thousand-FAT-teen

 

Fappy

My life has changed a lot in the past 6+ years. If you had bumped into me prior in 2008, 30+ lbs overweight, you might not have recognized me physically. If you had met me in 2011, newly engaged to my high school sweetheart and sans kiddos, you might have thought I was an entirely different person. But meeting me now in 2015, you’re getting the most authentic version yet, fatter than in 2009 (post-health revolution) and happier than in 2012 (post-love awakening).
 
Life is always changing (and you know I always say it’s ok to change your mind), but it seems that my life has been in a constant state of transition for over a decade now.
 
After graduating high school in 2002 (first palindrome of the millennium woot woot…and yes, I know I’m a youngin’), I set out for college only to find myself transferring twice (first I changed my focus from acting to backstage work, then I changed my major from theater to psychology), until I found my true alma mater…third time’s a charm right? Well it must have been because I stayed at that university for over 9 years. Although that may sound like a pretty stable period of time, in those 9 years I switched from pursuing counseling to experimental psychology, I worked in over five research labs, had over five mentors in three different disciplines, and contemplated leaving graduate school for an entirely different career multiple times. I held out and finished my degree, but switched fields none the less.
 
And while all of that professional chaos was going on, I had a very consistent personal life. Good friends and a good boyfriend (and let’s just put the family turmoil to the side for this one). So once my career seemingly settled when I chose a path of health and wellness, I guess it was time to ruffle the feathers of my relationships. I grew and adapted with my ever-changing life, and I changed myself. Not all my relationships changed with me. Friends or boyfriend. And I decided I needed more; I needed different, I needed bigger. And I found that in the four most important people in the world; the tinies, the little, and my love.
 
But then came all the ups and downs and ins and outs of blending and splitting and joining and leaving. And hot damn it was complicated. Like really, really complicated. Identities and housing and finances and personal belongings and values and morals and bottom-line-human operating system…differences. So we battled, with ourselves and with each other, and we kept evolving.
 
And I swear, that whole cliché about ‘if the love is there you make it work’ – is the absolute, honest truth. I mean, there’s no way in hell I could have done or do any of this without that great, big, bold, crying in the rainstorm, love. I didn’t recognize myself on some days, on others I saw the person I had tried very hard to change, and still in other moments I saw the very person I was aiming to be coming to light. It was confusing for my mind, body, and spirit. But, you know as I know, it’s always worth it.
 
And even though life is always changing, this year has been different, this year has changed me. This year has been full of exhales and slow downs. As you-me-us-we came to be in our own little corner of the world, with our own identities and values and morals and joint operating systems, we settled in. And it felt good, like really good. There is more laughter, more peace, more certainty, more knowing. More understanding that truly, Together. We. Are. Better. So we embrace more joy and celebration, and more often than we should.
 
When I look back at this year, just a little over halfway through now, it might look like my plate is a little fuller, my glass a little higher, my clothes a little tighter, and my face a little rounder. But what I see is that my table is a little louder, my home a little warmer, my head a little lighter, and my heart a whole lot stronger. We’ll see how the rest of the year unfolds – fatter, happier, who knows – but for now I am accepting all that comes with this current state of grace.
 
In the meantime, just call me FAPPY in Two-Thousand-FAT-Teen.
 

IMG_4896

 

What Are You Really Upset About?

What Are You Really Upset About?

This is such a loaded question. It’s also one that tends to infuriate me and send me into an inappropriate rage. Some of you may read that question and think it is entirely acceptable. And as a trained psychologist, I know all too well that displaced anger can erupt at inappropriate times and onto the wrong people. But for those of us who are an open book, real and honest with every breath, this question just comes across as insulting.

I have never been very good at hiding anything. I was never great at keeping secrets as a kid and I hate surprises for exactly this reason. As everyone who knows me can attest, if I have a thought about something, you’re going to hear about it – good or bad. I distinctly remember in middle school having “crushes” and having a conversation with myself about not telling anyone…and then telling my best friend the very next time we spoke, and usually my crush too. I often say to myself “there’s no reason to voice that you’re annoyed about xyz, so just let it go”…and then find myself bringing it up moments later. I know that my stream of consciousness does not need to be put on everyone, especially my closest friends and family, and that is why I have always kept a journal and now I share it with all of you.

But why I hate hearing  “what is this really about” stems from the feeling that I am not believed. That somehow, even though I always speak my mind, often too much and too honestly, there is room to think that I am really upset about something other than what I have vocalized. This very concept blows my mind. I do not understand why I would change my strategy this time and hide what I am really feeling. I am upset about exactly what I said I was upset about. Sure, you might think that the level at which I am upset is disproportionate to the issue I am upset about, but I assure you that I have told you my truth.

Now, one thing I have realized over time, is that although I do not tend to displace my emotions, I do watch them grow exponentially. I am a problem solver, a solution-focused do-er who is always trying to better myself, my situation, and my surroundings. When something upsets me, I vocalize it with the intention of improving it. Period. When a larger concept is identified as being the bigger issue, I outline the small ways in which that big issue has been manifesting and how it bothers me and how I think it could change. That is just how I operate.

My suggested solutions are not right, but they are mine. And they can only be improved when met with alternative solutions. When I finally feel heard and understood about whatever I have been upset about, and I feel that a solution has been identified and is being put into practice (actual practice, meaning it has not been solved, but the solution is being tested), I move forward assuming that things will improve on the issue. When the small ways in which the big issue manifests continually occur – I am upset about them. All the small ways I am upset about just as they are. And yes, the exponential growth happens because the small ways remind me that the big issue has not been solved, that the identified solution has either not been in practice long enough or it is not the appropriate solution.

When it comes to problem solving, especially with interpersonal issues, I am incredibly impatient. In fact, it may be one of the only ways in which I truly am impatient. I can accept 90% of things that come my way on the the timeline they appear. It is that 10% that I believe someone (myself or other) has the power to make better, that the solution is in someone’s control – if only they would take it. So I am most often at fault for the solution being in practice…and wanting it to immediately work. My logical side knows that that does not make sense and is virtually impossible, but in my mind it follows “now we know what to do, so let’s just do it”. I am not good at letting problems work themselves out over time. I do not like to feel uncomfortable or discontented. I want the bad feelings gone and the good feelings to linger. And I want problems solved, not swept away.

I am not a calm person. I am not quiet. I am not a wallflower. I have passion, intensity, and fury all the same. These are some of my best and worst qualities. When I am truly happy, overjoyed, ecstatic, the entire world knows it – I share myself with you wholeheartedly. When I am upset, angry, disappointed, and hurt, the one who I feel depreciated by is the sole receiver of my pain. This is an awful burden to bare. My emotions run deep and the current is incredibly strong. Sharing my positivity with the masses is joyful, contagious, infectious. Erupting all of my outrage onto one individual is debilitating, crippling, and cruel. I do not know how to stop it, I just know this to be true.

Perhaps this is why I love so strongly, so that those who I love know that when my emotions are heavy and hard, there is more love to pour over than the pain that is pouring out. Whatever I am really upset about does not outweigh that which I value and treasure. If you should ever be the receiver of my fury, and for those of you that have been, please know that. I value you, I treasure you. And I am trying to be patient and kind and better.

Finally, a Label I Can Accept

As my birthday week comes to an end, I wanted to take a minute to share my thoughts as I turn another year older…

*July 13th, 2015*

Today I sit here on the beach, solo, on my birthday – feeling less alone than I ever have in my whole life. It’s amazing how that can happen. I wanted connection, love, and community for as long as I can remember. I can still picture sitting on a jetty on Cape Cod staring out at the ocean as an adolescent wishing, singing, writing – yearning. For a place to belong and a person to belong with. And through my writing, it feels like I finally have all of that and more.

I have been writing my whole life. Journals, stories, essays, scientific articles, etc. I am a writer. For the first time, I find myself actually identifying with that label (perhaps more than any other labels that could be put on me). But I am not just a writer. I’m a connector. I write what I feel but also what I want to feel with others, to make them feel. I can only use what I have and who I am, but that has always seemed to be enough to find my people. My words have always been my entry and the only people that matter to me are those that understand the weight of our words.

I find writing incredibly therapeutic, sometimes as much as speaking with an actual therapist. I think in part I have always written for myself, but always as if I had an audience. Most of my honest writing never saw anyone’s eyes. Until recently. I want to be known, understood, and connected. And the only way to do that is to share my true self completely. So I do.

I’ve never been big on, or understood shame. There isn’t much in this life that at least someone can’t forgive you for. And I believe YOUR people will always forgive you. Mine have. I know that I personally am very forgiving as well, as I know life is all about trying everything even if it leads to mistakes and failures. It’s the risks that give the biggest return. So calculate them, and enjoy what follows. That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the last 10 years anyway. Don’t ask me about how much of a “risk” taker I was before that…

I think my favorite part of writing today is that I’m realizing how lucky I am to discover that my people are everywhere. People who are open and honest and raw with their emotions and experiences. Even more so it is the amazement that people are willing to share and open up – and listen. We learn so much about ourselves from listening to other people.

I love knowing that my voice matters to someone and that I get to be the recipient of someone’s share. That’s honestly why we all do it, right? We talk about ourselves to find the parts that relate to someone else. Because feeling known, belonging to people that get you, it makes every year that passes that much sweeter. And as I sit here on the beach alone, I can’t help but think that nothing in my past is going to be able to top what 31 is about to bring on. And sharing it with you, my people, will make it all the more memorable.

Thank you for knowing and growing with me.

Writing w/ Herc

Dental Judgements

You know how every time you go to the dentist you brush your teeth really, really well, floss for the first time in months, gargle that Listerine an extra time, and make sure not to ingest anything but water post-brushing and pre-dental visit? Right, totally, no, me either…
 
But now let’s say you’re getting three kids ready to go to the dentist for their 6 month check-up. Your 7-year-old daughter regularly brushes twice a day, flosses once a day, and uses ACT at night. BAM, you win parents of the year for getting that habit going! Your twin 4-year-old sons think that brushing is still a hilarious game where the goal is to either smear toothpaste all over the counter or swallow an entire tube – ready set go! But at least they’ve seen a toothbrush and technically have one in the bathroom drawer. Parent points awarded there too (yes!). So when you realize that the VERY first day of summer vacation after an ABSURDLY long school year (thanks for the 7 snow days Mama N) is also the exact same day as the 6 month check-ups, you realize there’s only one thing to do…
 
Take them to Friendly’s for lunch and ice cream directly before the dentist. And just like that, negative parent points.
 

Dr. J Dental

 
After shoving as much ice cream in their mouths as possible, taking family potty-break #2 (pre-meal and now post-meal), and piling in to Rosie (the family Highlander), Camp Nelle is en-route to the dentist. Naturally, we arrive 5 minutes late (I could blame it on the kids but I am pretty sure I am more on time with them than without them), but the wonder and glory that is our child dentistry accounted for that (as they do for EVERY appointment, because they learned a long time ago that it’s better to be pleasant than angry at every late family that walks through the doors). The kids bolt in three different directions to the playroom (yes, there is an amazing playroom in our dentistry, and it is a lifesaver). I take a deep breath and walk up to the counter to check us in, and start filling out the paperwork. As I’m about to practice my dont-judge-me spiel of “I’m a really good mom I swear, but it was their first day of summer vacation and I really wanted to do something special for them, so we went to the park and out to lunch and they JUST had ice cream and we didn’t go home first so they haven’t brushed since this morning, it was my poor choice not theirs…” I get slammed with some serious dental judgements. And not about teeth.
 
I am filling out the standard paperwork  – has your insurance changed (yes), any new allergies (no), are you a legal guardian (what? No, but…) – if not, please have the legal guardian call before we proceed with any care…
 
I should expect this, anticipate it, and even have another spiel in my back pocket for this, but I don’t. I can tell you what their favorite colors are, their favorite foods, what every scar on their body is from, their first words, favorite stuffed animals, what time they wake up in the morning, how they liked to be kissed goodnight… I am so totally their mom. But not legally. Legally, I am just Nelle. And even though I was HERE the first time with their biological mother and we TOLD YOU our situation, I feel the judgment from that piece of paper. So I have to say to the absurdly pleasant woman behind the counter… “So, I am not their legal guardian, but I am their mom, there are three of us and a dad and I tend to bring them to all their appointments because of our schedules, but legally – well legally, I am not their mother…”
 
I 100% believe that my maternal love is no different than every mother’s. Whether biological, adoptive, step, foster or other. I think most people who know me or have ever spent any time with me and our kids know this to be true. I am sure that there are people out in the world who do not feel the way that I feel. Who feel very differently towards their biological children versus their step-children. Or their adopted or foster children. I have never met these people, but it’s possible they exist. What I have experienced since I was a kid is that if you are lucky enough to receive parental love from any adult, you take it. Remember, it doesn’t matter how the love shows up, it just matters that it’s there. And I am the product of a lot of love that had no legal ties but that was always, always there. So I give just like I get, never any less.
 
But, today at this moment, I am not legally a parent. The laws would keep me out if it came down to it. No matter how much one of my children requested or cried for me, there are moments where the law would keep them from me. There’s nothing scarier than not being able to be there for a child that needs you.
 
So when I stood there alone, the kids off playing happily in the dentist playroom, knowing their mom was signing them in and they had only a few minutes to play before they had to sit in those chairs and get poked and prodded in the mouth… I felt a range of emotions. Most notably was the feeling that I really didn’t want THIS to affect THEM in any way that made them think WE weren’t NORMAL. Ugh, we are so much cooler than normal kids, so much cooler.
 
And before I could even finish my “I’m not a legal-guardian” speech, that same absurdly pleasant woman behind the counter looked at me and said – “It’s fine, don’t worry about it, just don’t bring it to the hygienist’s attention and I won’t either and really, we know that you are one of their parents and that’s what matters.” I mean… COME ON!? How AWESOME is that?! In less than 20 seconds I went from a quick stomach drop with the “ugh, please don’t let this be a thing” feeling, to a “sweet, thank you, you rock” feeling. I know that I should always be concerned when private information about our children is so easily acquired by a “non-legal-guardian” but in all honesty, the amount of times we have to encounter that exact situation makes me care WAY more about how our kids experience those moments than how easily the healthcare system can be persuaded to bypass the privacy laws. Sorry, the chance that someone will steal all our private information is slim to none, where the chance that our kids will feel upset or embarrassed because they can’t be seen by a doctor or dentist because “legally” I’m not their mom – is 100%. So yea, no brainer.
 
I know that this situation actually resulted in a sigh of relief and acceptance, but ooo that piece of paper judged my role in our kids lives in a way that many parents never have to feel. Let’s just say, it’s not my favorite. Fortunately, I can let the feeling of knowing that I received from the absurdly pleasant woman, hygienists, and dentist be my take-away and mentally crumple up those three stupid pieces of paper and slam-dunk them right into the trash. And you know what else? Everyone thought it was just awesome that the kids got to go out for lunch and ice cream to celebrate their first day of summer vacation. After-all, the staff made it clear that they’d be brushing the kids’ teeth “extra good” anyway, so why would I even worry about it? BOOM. Parent points back in the positive baby.
 

Dr. J Ice Cream Cones